#makes a little more sense...but at the same time

[ellemj]

Does It Hurt? BONUS CHAPTER: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Sex Pollen Fic

Summary: When you're finally out of HYDRA's clutches, the recovery process drives you and Bucky farther and farther apart. You can't decide if what you felt between you was real or chemically-induced. What will it take to sway you?

Read the first part here.

Warnings: angst, unprotected sex (non-descriptive), profanity, no use of y/n, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Word Count: 12.4k

A/N: The fic is up and only five hours late 🫶🏼

There was a time when Bucky Barnes felt like everything just might turn out okay for him. It was brief, fleeting, but it was a time he remembers well. It was the night he had you on the back of his bike, with his helmet protecting your head and your arms wrapped tightly around him. He may have just pistol-whipped the son of a bitch who was so damn insistent on feeling you up, but he didn’t feel an ounce of guilt over it. He only felt an unfamiliar warmth everywhere that your body made contact with his as he pushed past the speed limit on the highway. Something about it all felt so…good. The two of you were halfway back to the tower when he came to the conclusion that he actually felt normal with you on the back of his bike. He didn’t feel like he was over a hundred years old and stuck in the wrong century. He didn’t feel like he had committed an atrocious number of human rights violations, and all for the wrong side of history. He didn’t even feel like he was an unforgivable, unfixable product of experimentation. He felt like his old self, before the serum was ever introduced into his system, before he lost his arm. He felt like Bucky Barnes with a pretty girl pressed against him, and truth be told, he hated it. He hated the way that this odd feeling that he might be okay, that life could maybe turn out fine for him, seemed to be inexplicably linked to you.

The soft cushion of Dr. Raynor’s office couch molds to Bucky’s shape as he sinks down into the center of it, parting his knees and turning his head to the left to take in the rolling gray clouds outside of the wall of windows. He doesn’t want to be here today. He knows it’ll start raining by the time his session ends, yet he still chose to take his motorcycle out for the half-hour away from the tower. He’ll get stormed right off of the highway, and he doesn’t really give a shit about it.

When Dr. Raynor walks in just a moment later, she can sense Bucky’s foul mood immediately. It makes the air in her office feel stale and stagnant. If she was a more spiritual person, she would probably aggressively sage the space after the session. Dr. Raynor moves to her seat across from the couch and takes in the sight of her client. He sits on the couch, looking almost defeated, with a dark outfit to match his dark aura. Dark boots, dark jeans, and a dark shirt beneath a dark leather jacket.

“The funeral isn’t until Saturday.” Dr. Raynor begins the session, flipping open the notebook on her knee and balancing a pen atop it. Bucky turns his head, looking across the room at her with a raised brow and pursed lips. “Aren’t you dressed for it a little too soon?” He scoffs at the dig, turning his head once more to watch as the first drops of rain begin to fall from the gray sky.

“This is how I always dress.” Bucky argues, but there’s little effort in his tone. He doesn’t really care what she thinks about his wardrobe.

“You’re wearing the leather jacket today. Are you riding your motorcycle in this weather?” Dr. Raynor presses on, still choosing to focus on his clothes. Bucky rolls his eyes before dropping his gaze down to where his hands rest on his thighs. He starts tugging his gloves off one at a time before dropping them on the couch beside him.

“A little rain won’t ruin a ride.” He responds dryly. Dr. Raynor cocks her head to the side at his dismissal.

“I’m starting to think you have a death wish. Do you really think your team wants to attend two funerals in the same month?” Bucky only shrugs at her question, so up the pen goes and she begins scrawling away on the blank page. Bucky scowls, dropping his shoulders and scrunching up his face.

“Really, doc? I thought you stopped doing the passive aggressive thing months ago.”

“And I thought you stopped acting like a pre-pubescent boy who doesn’t know how to talk about his feelings.” Dr. Raynor retorts, letting the pen still in her hand and hover over the page. She wasn’t really writing anything of essence, but the trick always seems to work on Bucky.

“I took the bike because it’s loud.” Bucky explains. He reaches up and runs his flesh hand through his hair, messing it up a bit as a sigh leaves his chest. “It makes it harder to hear my own thoughts.”

“What thoughts are you trying to drown out?” She sets the pen down on the notebook and Bucky’s eyes follow it closely. She watches as he wars within himself, as he tries to decide what things to share and what things to bury. Bucky shakes his head like he’s refusing to answer, but then his eyes land on the pen once more and he decides to speak.

“All of them.” Bucky knows that Dr. Raynor hates when he’s vague, even more than she hates when he doesn’t want to talk at all.

“Give me a few examples of the thoughts you’ve been having today.” As soon as she requests it of him, Bucky’s mind is falling into the dark abyss he’s been trying so hard to crawl out of for the past week. He can see everything when he closes his eyes, hear everything that happened replaying all over again.

“Where is she? Where the hell is she?” Bucky yelled out, pushing against Sam’s chest with both hands hard enough to send him crashing into the stark white wall behind.

“Bucky, you have to calm down.” Sam responded, holding his hands up, refusing to physically engage with the raging super soldier. “I’m not telling you anything when you’re in this state, man. You need to sit down and get your shit together.”

“Let me see her.” Sam had never heard Bucky sound so desperate, so fucking devastated.

“Bucky…”

Dr. Raynor can see straight through him. She knows he’s having a flashback just from the pained look in his eyes and the way his hands keep curling into fists and then uncurling just as fast, repeating the movement over and over. She gives him a few seconds, noting the tension he holds in his jaw.

“James?” Dr. Raynor calls his name softly, leaning forward in her chair a little and waving her hand. He blinks a couple of times before focusing in on her face and letting his muscles relax into the couch.

“I’ve been thinking about the first day in the hospital.” Bucky relents. He starts tracing the golden crevices of his vibranium arm with his flesh index finger, avoiding Dr. Raynor’s gaze.

“What about it?”

“They wouldn’t let me see her.” He shrugs, as if the events of that day are common knowledge. Bucky hasn’t talked to anyone about what happened after HYDRA’s bunker was blown to shit. He awoke in a hospital room almost twelve hours after being pulled from the rubble semi-conscious and heavily sedated. He ripped his IV out, broke the metal IV pole off of the hospital bed, and threatened to take down anyone and everyone who stood in the way of him getting to you. Luckily, Sam never relayed that story to Dr. Raynor.

“That’s what’s on your mind today?” Dr. Raynor is suspicious, as always. With a patient like Bucky, there’s always more to the story that he’s building in his head. He leaves out details like the details are what will crucify him in the end. She watches as he shifts in his seat. Bucky leans forward slowly, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together in front of him as he drops his head down.

“She has some memory loss, it’s hard to know how much when she doesn’t want to talk to anyone.” The doctor said quietly, folding his hands together in front of his white coat as he addressed the group.

“What do you know for sure?” Fury asked, needing something concrete. He came here for a solid update and he was damn sure going to get one. You’d been in this hospital for three days since the HYDRA bunker was destroyed and every update that he got over the phone seemed to have less and less information, so Fury drove himself down here this time.

“She remembers the morning of the day she was taken, she mentioned going to the gym that morning and having a shower after. She said her hair was tangled.” Bucky felt his heart thumping hard against his ribcage, threatening to break free at the doctor’s words. You remembered that morning, the morning you touched his scars. “She’s been able to retain her memory of everything that’s happened since she arrived here, but she doesn’t seem to have any recollection of what happened while she was held captive.”

“That might be a good thing.” Sharon pointed out, earning her a various array of looks from the group. “What? We all know what HYDRA is capable of, it might be for the best that she doesn’t remember it all right now.”

“She’s right. While the amnesia could be the result of a minor brain injury or whatever drugs they were pumping into her system down there, it could also be the result of a sort of psychological protection mechanism.” The doctor explained carefully.

“You’re saying she could be blocking out whatever happened to her because she doesn’t want to remember it?” Sam asked, with worry etched into his features. The doctor nodded slowly, before stealing a look at the only silent one in the group, the super soldier who stood with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes narrowed.

“I hope that’s not the case, but yes, she may not want to remember.”

Dr. Raynor is snapping her fingers this time, dragging Bucky back out of his head and into the present reality. Thunder rumbles in the distance and the wind shifts so the rain starts coming down sideways, pattering against the wall of windows to Bucky’s left.

“You keep zoning out.”

“They wouldn’t let me see her because they were scared that her seeing me might trigger some traumatic memories.” Bucky says suddenly, turning his head to glance out at the brewing storm. “They wanted me to stay away.”

“And that made you feel—”

“Like shit.” Bucky finishes Dr. Raynor’s sentence quickly.

“Understandably so. Have you seen her since the explosion?” She questions, turning her head to gaze out at the gloomy weather as well. Bucky shakes his head, watching as a bolt of lightning flashes across the sky but doesn’t quite reach the ground.

“No.”

“But isn’t she back in the tower now?” Bucky nods, catching Dr. Raynor’s eye for a brief moment. “So, you’re avoiding her?”

“I’m giving her space.”

“Did she ask for that?”

“It seems like the right thing to do.” Bucky shrugs, picking at the seam of his dark jeans.

“The right thing for who? For her? Or for you?” Dr. Raynor narrows her eyes, slowly beginning to understand what’s going on here as she continues on with her line of questioning.

“I don’t know.” Bucky admits gruffly. He knows Dr. Raynor is figuring his shit out and he can’t stand it. He starts pushing up from the couch, coming to stand in front of it as he scoops up his gloves and begins tugging them on.

“We have another forty-five minutes, James.”

“I have to cut this one short, don’t want to get stuck in a flood on the bike.” He says smoothly, his eyes flitting toward the door as he speaks.

“You won’t be able to avoid her on Saturday.”

“I doubt she’ll be going to a funeral for the man who had a hand in drugging her.”

“He was an undercover agent and he played a pretty big role in keeping her safe in that bunker.”

“I know.” Bucky mutters, acknowledging those facts but refusing to let them paint the man in a better light. He may have been a double-agent for SHIELD, but he still let things go too far with HYDRA. He could’ve contacted Fury to send in the rescue team so much sooner than he did, he could’ve spared you the entire final night in that damn concrete bunker, but he chose not to. He chose to give each of you the injections and leave you together to do exactly what HYDRA wanted. He’s as guilty as everyone else that died in that bunker.

            You’ve always loved bad weather. You love the way the sun disappears behind rows of thick, dark clouds, the way you can taste the rain in the air long before it ever begins to fall, and especially the way you can feel the vibration of thunder deep in your bones when a storm is really close. Even now, as a storm is rolling in, your inner turmoil can’t compete with the peace that’s washing over you in waves. You relish in it for a moment, that recently unobtainable peace.

            “You know, being out here under all of these big trees in weather like this isn’t really a good look. Someone might think you wanted to be struck by lightning.” Sam’s voice is light and playful as he approaches from behind. You wonder just how long he’s been standing around in the woods watching you, because if he had been walking, you would’ve heard the sounds of rustling leaves and snapping twigs. He raps his fist against the trunk of the tree you’ve chosen to lean against for the time being. The bark is digging into the thin fabric of your shirt and probably adding to the bruises you already have underneath, but you remain still.

            “I was going to head back in soon.” You assure him, crossing your arms over your chest and letting your eyes roam over the expansive landing strip out ahead of you. Short of breaking onto the roof of the tower and pissing off a very unwelcoming security team, standing out here at the edge of the woods overlooking the landing strip is the best way to observe an incoming storm. Sam moves to stand beside you, crossing his arms over his chest to mirror your position as he gazes out at the gray clouds rolling in. It’s quiet for a moment as he soaks in the view, coming to understand why you like hiding out here from time to time.

            “You don’t have to go to the funeral on Saturday, no one expects you to.” Sam says softly, so softly that you wonder if he actually meant to say it out loud. A tired sigh pushes past your lips and you let your eyes flutter closed, resting your head back against the trunk of the tree.

            “I know.”

            “You could talk to me, you know? I know you haven’t really talked to anyone, and you probably don’t want to, but if you decide that you do, I can be a vault. You could just dump all of your shit on me and I can lock it away.” It’s silent again after he makes his offer, until a loud crack of thunder sounds not too far off in the distance. You turn your head to face him, noting the concern in his eyes at the imminent storm. You know his offer is genuine. He wouldn’t repeat your words to a single living soul, you’re sure of that. And he’s right, you haven’t talked to anyone. What the hell is there to talk about when you barely remember anything? The bits and pieces that you do remember don’t even make much sense. “We should head back to the tower, I don’t trust that thunder.”

            You walk side by side in a comfortable silence for the first thirty seconds, until a light drizzle of rain begins to fall on your shoulders. Sam picks up the pace as soon as he feels it, but you noticeably slow down. He’s just a few steps ahead when you start to remember something, the feeling of dust and debris raining down on you from above. You stop entirely now, squeezing your eyes shut as the rain begins to fall a little harder and your shirt starts to soak through. You hear Sam call your name but it sounds so distant as you fall into a lost memory you want so badly to retrieve.

            You didn’t feel the blast, you barely even felt the impact of your body slamming against the concrete wall. All you felt was the loss of Bucky behind you. He was there one minute, and the next he wasn’t. Even as the walls and ceiling came crashing down all around you, on top of you, he was the only thought on your mind. You were trapped with one hand outstretched and the other cradling his dog tags in an open palm. Dragging your thumb over the inscription on the tags was the only thing you could do. Over and over again you traced his name, telling yourself that if you were still alive in the rubble, then so was he. So was he.

            You’re suddenly aware of the rain pouring down, soaking into your clothes and shoes more and more with each second that you stand still in the woods. Your right hand is pressed against the front of your shirt, feeling the outline of the dog tags hidden underneath. You don’t know when you started wearing them, but ever since you woke up in the hospital, you didn’t feel right taking them off. Sam stands in front of you with widened eyes and his hands on both of your forearms.             “You remembered something.” He says incredulously, staring into your eyes with a mix of hope and concern. His eyes dart down to where your hand is pressed against your chest. He can just barely see the glint of a silver chain peeking out around the neck of your shirt, but he focuses his gaze back on your face, not wanting you to know that he knows exactly what hangs around your neck. He was the one that found you in the ruins of that decimated concrete bunker, the first one who saw the light of the early morning sun glinting off of the metal tags.

            “I remembered something.” You affirm, nodding your head slowly. Your hair is dripping at this point, and a chill spreads throughout your body as the rain begins coming down in sheets. As you and Sam make your way back to the tower, all you can think about is the feeling that came with the memory. Hope. You wanted Bucky to survive, you needed him to survive. Even as you laid there, unsure if you were going to live or die yourself, he was the one you were thinking about.

            Bucky isn’t a very big fan of elevators. He stands in front of one now, watching as the floor number ticks down slowly above the doors. Why the hell did Stark design this tower to be so damn tall? Who really needs this many floors? Bucky’s contemplating taking the stairs when he hears a loud clap of thunder followed by one of the glass doors across the foyer sliding open. He sees you before you see him. Your jeans are thoroughly soaked through, looking a couple of shades darker than they probably were before. Your shirt is wet and clinging to your torso, while your hair looks like you just stepped out of a long shower. Bucky takes in the sight like a punch to the gut. It’s the first time he’s seen you since that night, since he saw you ripped away from him and tossed into a concrete wall.

            “I’m not going to make it all the way upstairs like this, I’m cold as shit.” Sam’s voice rings out, just as he’s stepping into the glass door and coming to stand beside you. “I have clothes in the gym, I’m going to go change. Do you want to borrow a shirt?” Bucky’s jaw clenches at the thought of you wearing someone else’s shirt. He wants to look up and see how far the elevator is, to see how much longer he has to stand here feeling like his heart is about to give out, but he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from you. You shake your head and mutter something that Bucky can’t quite make out, but as Sam turns away and heads in the direction of the gym alone, he assumes you told him no.

            Bucky.  You see him as soon as you turn to head for the elevator, and your hand instinctively moves up to brush over the dog tags beneath your shirt. His eyes track the movement even from across the foyer.

            When he realizes you’re still wearing them, he can’t breathe. Bucky can’t fucking breathe because you’re standing there, alive and well, looking at him as you run a thumb over his name, his name that sits right over your fucking heart. Shit. He tears his eyes away from you reluctantly, stealing a glance at the floor counter above the elevator. It’s almost here. He needs to get the fuck out of here now.

            It probably wasn’t your smartest move to rush across the foyer the second the elevator doors opened and Bucky started disappearing from your line of sight. You make it just as the doors are mere inches from closing fully, and you thrust your right arm forward, interrupting the sensors and causing the doors to slide open again. Bucky stands straight ahead with his back against the far wall and his hands gripping the railing on either side of his hips. He doesn’t say a word as you step into the elevator, but he holds your gaze with a steely one of his own. You can tell he wishes you hadn’t hijacked his solo elevator ride, but something in you just wouldn’t let it go.

            It isn’t until the doors close and you’re turning your back to Bucky to press the button for the main living floor that you realize just how stupid your move was. You don’t have to look down to know that you’ve just ripped a few stitches from a deep cut right above your left hipbone. You can feel the warmth of the blood contrasting with the cold rainwater that’s already soaked into the fabric of your clothes. You’re quick to place your left palm over the wound, applying pressure while concealing the fresh blood from Bucky’s sight. You take in a few shaky breaths, wondering what the hell Bucky’s thinking right now. Does he remember everything that happened down there? Would he relay it all to you if you asked?

            Bucky’s biting down on his bottom lip so hard that he questions for a moment if it’s his own blood he smells. It only takes a second, and one swipe of his tongue across his lips, for him to be sure that it’s not. It’s yours, you’re bleeding. You stand a foot in front of him, with your right hand hanging down at your side but your left hand clutching your hip tightly.

            “You’re bleeding.” Bucky says matter-of-factly, like he doesn’t much care if you are or aren’t but he wants to make it known that he’s aware. The fact that he’s speaking at all surprises you, considering he seems to have been going out of his way to avoid you ever since you came home from the hospital a few days ago. You stay still, letting your eyes flit up to the floor counter as you continue applying pressure to your hip with one hand.

            “I’m fine.” You respond through gritted teeth, suddenly finding yourself a little peeved that Bucky wants to speak up now. Another glance up at the floor counter tells you that you’re nearly halfway to the main living floor. A low chuckle sounds from behind you, sending a shiver down your spine, as if you weren’t cold enough already. Bucky watches with veiled amusement as your shoulders tense up in front of him. Leave her alone. Fuck. How can he just leave you alone? Bucky’s pushing away from the wall within a second, taking one big step forward and closing most of the gap between you. He leaves maybe an inch between his chest and your back, but you sense him behind you and instinctively roll tilt your head to the side as your eyes flutter closed. As soon as you’ve made that little movement, you’re wondering why he has that effect on you. You don’t remember ever doing that before, but as far back as you can remember, he wasn’t ever really very close to you before either. Bucky wants to reach up and push your hair away from your neck, to expose the skin there just so he can lay eyes on it one more time, but he won’t.

            “Does it hurt?” The question is tumbling past his lips in a low whisper before he can stop it. That one question is all it takes for your mind to go careening into another forgotten memory. Bucky notices the hand on your bloody hip faltering, so he covers it with his own and applies pressure just like you were doing before. You both stay still like that for a few seconds, with your breaths coming in quicker and quicker as flashes of the past rush through your head. With your eyes closed, you can just barely see the image of your fingertips tracing over the angry scars of his shoulder in a dark room. You squeeze your eyes shut a little tighter and you see your fingertips moving gently down his spine, pressing softly into his warm skin. When you open your eyes again, it’s gone. You’re staring at the closed metal doors of the elevator, almost oblivious to Bucky’s hand over your own on your hip. The elevator slows to a stop and Bucky lets his hand fall away from yours the second the doors start sliding open. He’s gone before you even have a chance to blink. He’s gone and suddenly you’re remembering everything.

            With every up and down motion of the bench presses that Bucky’s doing, he’s slipping further and further into a dark place in his mind. You don’t remember. Just a few hours ago in the elevator, he was sure you were remembering something, but when you didn’t speak up, he knew it was just wishful thinking. Does what hurt? Those were the only three words he wanted to hear from you, and god, he might’ve pressed you against the elevator wall and kissed you right there if you’d said them. But you don’t remember.

            When Bucky switches over to abusing a punching bag, his eyes roam around the empty gym. He switched to an evening workout schedule the day you were discharged from the hospital, not wanting to risk running into you in the gym or the showers every morning like he used to. Still, even when he’s alone, he only sees you everywhere he looks. He sees flashes of everything you’ve forgotten. When he closes his eyes and lies in bed at night, he can almost feel you next to him. He only laid with you for one fucking night and yet, the feeling of you next to him is somehow engrained in his skin.

            “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to work through something with how hard you’re hitting that bag.” Fury’s voice is unexpected, but not surprising when it reaches Bucky’s ears from across the gym. Bucky stills for a moment, steadying the bag with his hands before glancing over his shoulder. He spots Fury instantly, leaning against the wall by the door, typing away on a phone held firmly in both hands.

            “Is watching me workout becoming a hobby of yours?” Bucky asks, turning around fully to face Fury. Fury raises a brow, briefly looking up from his phone screen to make eye contact.

            “Don’t tell me you have performance anxiety. I won’t believe it at all after seeing the video footage from the HYDRA bunker that came across my desk this morning.” Bucky’s frozen in place. Sweat begins to bead across his forehead as his mind races. Fury catches sight of his widened eyes and clenched fists and quickly shoves his phone into the pocket of his jacket, pushing away from the wall to approach Bucky. “Relax.”

            “She doesn’t remember any of it.” Bucky’s voice is tense and edged with frustration as he watches Fury move slowly across the gym.

            “How would you know? You’ve been avoiding her like she has the plague.” Fury points out, crossing his arms over his chest as he comes to a stop in front of Bucky.

            “I know. If she remembered, I would know.”

            “Don’t be so sure.”

            “You think she remembers?” Bucky asks, narrowing his eyes at Fury. They stand only a foot apart now, studying each other carefully.

            “I think you should stop sulking around like she’s forgotten who you are entirely.”

            “I haven’t been sulking.” Bucky scoffs, turning around to leave. He doesn’t have to stand here and listen to Fury’s cryptic advice.

            “You’re singlehandedly the reason it’s been storming almost non-stop since we brought you both home.”

            “That’s dramatic.” Bucky calls out as he rounds the corner, exiting the gym and entering the shower room. Fury mumbles something in response, but Bucky doesn’t strain his ears hard enough to pick it up. Bucky spends far too much time in a steamy shower, gnawing on the inside of his cheek and contemplating ripping the tiles from the shower wall as he thinks about the fact that Fury saw the video footage of everything that happened in the bunker. The fact that Fury saw you at your most vulnerable, you with your legs wrapped around Bucky’s waist, only covered by a thin sheet, actually has Bucky wanting to pluck out the one good eye that the man has left. He doesn’t even want to think about what he saw if he watched the footage from the second time you fucked, when the sheet was long forgotten and neither of you gave a shit. Bucky’s possessiveness is flaring as he pulls his flesh hand back, takes a deep breath, and then thrusts is hard against the tiled shower wall. The crack that’s left matches the one he feels deep in his own chest.

            You’re pissed. You’re tired of everyone tiptoeing around you. You’re tired of Bucky doing everything he possibly can to stay the hell away from you. You’re also really fucking tired of your trainer taking it easy on you. You circle around the man on the mat, stealing a glance at the digital clock on the wall across the gym. You’ve been sparring for an hour now and the man hasn’t landed one hit on you. It has nothing to do with your skill, which is what has you so angry right now. He hasn’t landed a hit on you because he’s barely tried to, and the poor attempts he’s made wouldn’t have even tickled if they’d made contact.

            “Stop going easy on me.” You snap, shooting daggers at the man. He shakes his head.

            “I’m not.”

            “I feel like I’m fighting a five-year-old.” You retort, rolling your eyes at his denial. Does he even realize he’s pulling all of his punches and practically only defending himself? Normally, your trainer is always on the offensive, dishing out attacks for you to combat. You used to never leave a session with him without at least a few new bruises and a plethora of sore muscles.

            “Listen, we’ve been going at this for an hour. You have to be tired, you’ve barely even recovered from everything. Let’s call it a day.” There it is. He’s taking it easy on you because he fears you haven’t recovered. Anger bubbles up inside you as you tug your hair out of its ponytail and stalk away from the ring.

            “Yeah, let’s call it. I don’t think I need your services anymore.” You agree, nearing the door to the shower room.

            “You’re really going to take yourself off of my schedule because I care about you too much to compromise your recovery?” He asks incredulously, holding his arms out at his sides in a sort of what-the-fuck gesture. You shrug your shoulders as you round the corner, already tugging your shirt over your head.

            “Let me know when you actually want to try kicking my ass, until then, I’m off your schedule.” You respond flatly. One of the good things about Bucky avoiding you is that he’s stopped using the gym in the mornings, which means you can strip in the open and spend as much time as you fucking please in the shower, without worrying about anyone judging you for wasting water. As the hot water splashes across your skin, steaming up the air around you and soothing your aching muscles, you find yourself diving right back into the newfound memory you’ve been dissecting for the last two days. Your fingers trace the chain around your neck lightly, following it over your collarbone and down to the metal plates that hang between your breasts. You remember telling Bucky to give them to you. You remember the way he kissed you before placing them around your neck. God, you remember the way it felt when he pushed his tongue past your lips and licked into your mouth like you were a fucking dessert. You don’t really understand how you forgot a kiss like that in the first place, how you forgot a moment like that. And everything that came after? That’s why you’ve been so damn moody for the last two days. The memory of Bucky fucking you not once, but twice, came back in full force that day in the elevator. You couldn’t even respond to his little ‘does it hurt?’ How could you respond when you went from thinking about your fingertips tracing his spine to thinking about how good it felt to sit on his cock? And to think that that’s what happened before he started avoiding you. How. Fucking. Dare. He.

            You’ve barely even had time to deal with the trauma of being kidnapped and held hostage because you’ve been dealing with the fact that you had sex with Bucky Barnes and now you can barely even get him to look at you. In this moment, as you run your fingers through your hair and watch the suds wash down the drain at your feet, you think you might actually hate him.

            There are a lot of reasons that you decided against going to the funeral for the tall, thin man with brown eyes. The first reason being that he’s associated with some very unpleasant memories. Anytime his face pops up in your mind, you can almost feel the pain caused by that injection he gave you not once, but twice. He gave it to you without hesitation, and with little warning as to what you’d experience once it entered your bloodstream. For that, you resent him. Knowing that the double agent would likely have family and friends there, even SHIELD coworkers who adored him, really solidified your decision not to go. You’d stick out like a sore thumb being the only one who wasn’t torn up over his passing.

            So, you stand in the ring with your new sparring coach. He’s a bulky, broad-shouldered man with dark hair and unexpectedly kind eyes. He’s simultaneously the kind of man women would flock to in a busy bar on a Friday night and the kind of man women would be terrified of if they saw him in a parking garage any time after dark. Hopefully, he’s also the kind of man who won’t think twice about throwing you around the ring.

            You move in tandem for a while, with him taking one step forward and you taking one step back. When you throw a right hook, he ducks under it with ease. He’s so quick on his feet that you barely manage to land more than three hits on him in the first twenty minutes. But annoyance is blooming in your chest with each passing second, and it has nothing to do with the fact that he’s faster than you. It has everything to do with the fact that he hasn’t even tried to throw a punch.

            Bucky can hear the commotion in the gym as soon as he steps off the elevator and he pauses right outside the gym door, straining his ears in an attempt to figure out who’s taking up his new evening slot. Everyone went to the funeral as far as he knows, including you. He hears the sound of feet dancing around the sparring mat, two sets of heavy breathing, and then a single sound that he recognizes above any other. A frustrated moan reaches his ears, and in an instant, he knows who it belongs to. He’s shoving the gym door open and stepping in without thinking, his eyes aiming straight for the sparring ring.

            “You let me do that.” You complain, letting go of the man’s arms but continuing to hover over him as you straddle his lower half. The man cocks a brow at you, letting a playful smirk take over his sharp features.

            “I wanted to get a feel for your strength.” He responds coolly, patting your left thigh with the palm of his hand. You roll off of him and tighten your ponytail as he rises to his feet once more. Bucky’s watching the moment unfold as he heads for the punching bags in the opposite corner of the room. He doesn’t normally start a workout with a punching bag, but with how tight he’s clenching his fists right now, he might as well. You haven’t caught sight of him yet, as you stand with your back to the rest of the gym.

            “Let me get a feel for yours, stop holding back.” You bite back. When you turn around to face the man in the sparring ring once more, you catch sight of the lights glinting off of black and gold in the corner of the gym. Bucky. He stands quietly in front of a punching bag, wrapping his flesh hand in a nude-colored wrap as he prepares for his own workout. He meets your gaze just for a second, for one single fleeting second, before he throws a hard punch into the bag, setting it shaking on its hook.

            “I don’t like to dive in full force at the first session with a new client. We can build up to more intense sessions.” The trainer says, drawing your attention away from the brooding super soldier in the corner. You watch as the man runs his fingers through his dark hair and then squares up, expecting you to do the same. You stand still, biting down on your bottom lip as you contemplate his words.

            “So, what are we doing here then? You’re just going to keep letting me take you down and I’m supposed to feel like I had a good workout?” You can’t hide the frustration in your tone, it’s beyond evident. Even Bucky can detect it from across the gym as he throws punch after punch at the bag in front of him. He alternates between watching the bag shimmy on its hook and stealing glances in your direction. The man you’re with looks nothing like the trainer he’s used to seeing you with in the mornings. He heard that you fired the guy, but he didn’t really know that it was true until now.

            “Yeah, and then in our next session I’ll make things a little harder for you.” The trainer answers, circling you in the ring. You stand still, half hoping he’ll swipe your legs right out from under you if you refuse to engage. But of course, he doesn’t. He moves to stand in front of you and grabs both of your wrists, his eyes temporarily zeroing in on the fading bruises you have there, before he places them out in front of you in a defensive position and let’s go. “You’re in your head too much.” It takes you less than two seconds to have the man laid out flat on his back again, with the wind knocked out of his chest and his cheeks flushing pink.

            “Maybe we should give it a rest, and you can come back to kick my ass tomorrow.” You say as you lean over the man and offer him your hand. He grins up at you and pushes your hand away, rolling onto his side before moving to his feet with ease.

            “Why do I get the feeling you aren’t actually going to have me come back tomorrow?” The trainer asks lightheartedly, as he reaches for his water bottle near the edge of the mat. You shrug as you lift the hem of your shirt to dab a bit of sweat from your forehead. Bucky catches sight of the bruises decorating your ribcage and the bandage carefully placed over your left hip, just barely peeking out of the waistband of your leggings. His jaw ticks as he lands an overpowered punch against the bag and hears the sound of the chain snapping above. The bag flies across the room, crashing against the wall before crumpling to the floor. For a split second, Bucky’s right back in that bunker, watching your body fly across the room and come to a screeching halt against a concrete wall. You can tell by the way his muscles tense and his gaze never strays from the bag that he’s having a flashback of some sort. Your trainer is already packing up his bag and stepping out of the ring when Bucky snaps his head back in your direction.

            “If you promise you won’t take it easy on me, I might call.” You assure him, but your eyes stay fixed on Bucky, who looks like he’d happily send you careening into the wall right beside the punching bag if you keep staring at him. The trainer follows your line of sight, noting Bucky’s presence before turning back to you one last time.

            “I can’t promise that.”

            Just like that, the man is gone and you’re sorely disappointed to lose yet another trainer who thinks you’re too fragile to handle even one little hit. You’re tugging your hair out of its ponytail and running your hands through your messy hair as Bucky’s walking across the gym to retrieve the busted punching bag that he sent airborne just a moment ago. You can feel his eyes on your back as you bend over and start scooping up your water bottle and phone from the edge of the ring.

            “It wouldn’t kill you to take it easy, you’re still covered in bruises.” Bucky’s voice is almost unfamiliar to your ears after the way he’s been avoiding you lately. You pause, your hand hovering just over your phone as his words register in your mind. You straighten up and look over to see Bucky dragging that damn busted bag back to the far corner of the gym, not even sparing you a passing glance.

            “I didn’t ask for your advice, and I sure as hell don’t need it.”

            “You don’t know what you need. You’re out here begging a guy nearly twice your size to lay hands on you just to convince yourself that you’re fine.” Bucky spits back, dropping the bag at his feet and finally turning around to face you. His eyes are alight with fire, and the intensity of his stare burns against your face. You narrow your eyes at him and cross your arms over your chest.

            “I am fine.” You huff, sounding every bit as confident as you’d hoped you would. Bucky hates that you think you can lie to his face and he’ll believe every word. That’s the second time you’ve tried telling him you’re fine, the second time you’ve lied to him. He steps over the punching bag at his feet and takes a few steps closer to the sparring ring.

            “Are you? Because the last time I saw you, you tore your stitches just trying to catch the elevator.” He says coldly, letting his eyes dart down toward your left hip. You roll your eyes, and step forward until you’re leaning over the edge of the sparring ring.

            “And just like I said then, I’m fine.” You smile at him, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. It isn’t genuine at all. He can see something else written all over your face.

            “People who are fine don’t beg to be tossed around the sparring ring.” He points out, taking another step closer to the ring. You tilt your head to the side and bite down lightly on your bottom lip. Bucky’s eyes follow every move you make closely. Biting your lip like that almost feels like a personal attack to him.

            “I’m sick of everyone tiptoeing around me like I’ll shatter if I take so much as a deep breath. I can take a few punches, Bucky.” You slip between the ropes around the edge of the ring and carefully lower yourself to the gym floor.

            “I’m sure you can, but that doesn’t mean you need to.” His response is reasonable and it frustrates you further. You’re trying to egg him on and he can see it clearly. It’s why he gives you one last up and down look before shaking his head and turning on his heel. He’s tugging the wrap off of his flesh hand and nearing the door when you decide to come back with a response.

            “So you can encourage me to take your cock but not a few punches from a trainer?”

            He should keep walking. He should be halfway to the elevator right now, leaving you alone in the gym. He should be ignoring your obvious attempt to get him to engage with you, but his entire musculoskeletal system decided to disconnect from his nervous system the moment you said what you just said. You remember. You remember him encouraging you to take his cock. You remember him saying just keep taking my cock as he reached dangerous depths inside you and then praised you immediately after. Heat starts to pool low in your stomach as you realize what you’ve done, as you realize that he knows now. He knows that you remember. Bucky’s demeanor is entirely different when he turns to face you now, the fire behind his eyes burning so bright that you worry the gym might go up in smoke. His next words send a shiver down your spine and a chill coasting over the surface of your skin.

            “Get on the mat.”

            “Tell me what you remember.” Bucky orders, watching you from across the ring as your chest heaves and sweat drips down your temples. You’re hunched over with your hands resting on your knees as you try to catch your breath. He narrows his eyes at you as you shoot him a menacing glare. “Why are you looking at me like that? Did you want me to go easy on you?”

            “You’re fighting dirty.” You accuse, glancing down at your forearms and noting the reddening skin there. He handled you with such a harsh grip that you’re sure you’ll have bruises tomorrow morning. Bucky smirks before crossing the ring in two long strides and tangling a hand in the hair at the back of your head. He tugs upward, forcing you to stand up straight, before tightening his grip and using it to tilt your head to the side.

            “Tell me what you remember.” He repeats, letting his eyes settle on the expanse of your neck. Do you remember him kissing, licking, and sucking the skin there? Do you remember the feel of his stubble scratching at it as he worked his mouth over your pulse? The quickening of your breaths as he holds you this way tell him that you do, you fucking remember.

            “Why does it matter what I remember?” You ask stubbornly, not yet attempting to break free from his grasp. Bucky lets his hand fall from your hair before shoving your back a little too hard, sending you stumbling into the center of the ring. He circles you like you’re some kind of prey and that only serves to stoke the fire in the pit of your stomach. How is he going to go from avoiding and practically ignoring you for days, to demanding shit from you now?

            “Because I want to talk about it.” He sweeps a leg out suddenly, aiming for the backs of your knees but you sidestep and he narrowly misses. You mimic his movements, moving in a slow circle around the ring as you face off.

            “You’ve been hiding ever since I was discharged from the hospital, but now you want to talk?” You throw a poorly executed punch that doesn’t even come close to making contact with Bucky’s solid body. He chuckles to himself and starts to formulate a plan in his head. He charges forward and grabs your right wrist before turning you around and hiking it up your back, pulling you against his chest with little to no effort. His scent envelopes you as he holds you there, with his breath tickling your neck and his knee snaking between your thighs.

            “Do you remember the first night they gave you that injection? The first night they let me see you?” He asks in a near-whisper, letting his lips graze against the shell of your ear. Your eyes flutter closed as you try to ignore his questions and focus on getting out of his hold. He tugs your twisted arm higher up your back and you feel the threat of injury building in the muscles of your shoulder. “Do you remember what I did for you?” As if he can sense how close your shoulder is to snapping, Bucky drops your arm in an instant, but he isn’t done with you. He sweeps your legs out from under you before you have a chance to recover. You go tumbling backward, but his fingers snag on the fabric of the front of your shirt and he catches you by it, before lowering you the last couple of inches to the mat. You lie on your back, eyeing his vibranium arm as he circles you on the floor. You remember what he did for you. You remember it in flashes, but still, you remember it.

            “I remember.” You admit, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth and biting down on it. Bucky scowls down at you before averting his gaze. You don’t miss the way he adjusts the front of his sweats, or the way he clenches and unclenches his fists a couple of times before looking down at you again. When he’s composed himself, he steps closer and offers you a hand. You look at him warily, but place your hand in his. He should’ve seen it coming, but you’re yanking him down on top of you the moment your palms collide and he doesn’t have time to stop you. He lands with one leg between your parted knees and his vibranium hand on the mat beside your head, holding up some of his weight. With your faces only inches apart, neither of you moves at first. Bucky’s studying you closely, trying hard as hell to read the look in your eyes, but he can’t. You skate your right hand over his shoulder, moving down to his vibranium bicep until feel the edge of his shirt sleeve. Hooking your thumb in it, you meet Bucky’s intense stare with a playful one of your own, looking up at him through your lashes. You slide that sleeve up further and further until your fingertips are brushing over his scars. “Does it hurt?” You whisper, tilting your chin up as the question leaves your lips. He’s so close that you could barely move and still, you’d be kissing him. You feel him shudder against your touch before quickly shrugging your hand away.

            “Does what hurt?” He asks, moving his hands down to grip your waist before rolling you over. You end up straddling his lower half, but only for a second before he’s shoving you off and scrambling to his feet. As he tangles a hand in your hair again, you’re starting to wonder if he has some kind of kink for it. You’re getting tired of him playing dirty. You’re getting tired of playing this little game at all, honestly. Why is it so important to him that you remember every detail of what happened in that damn bunker?

            Bucky brings you up to your feet by the hold he has on your hair, just like he did earlier, but this time, he lets that hand loosen its grip and then glide down the side of your neck before coming to rest right around your throat.

            “You look so fucking pretty like this.” He says lowly. The mix of his suggestive tone and burning gaze has that heat in your stomach moving lower and lower until it’s pooling between your legs. “With my hand and my name around your neck.” He whispers the last part, leaning in close to your ear as he adds a little pressure to your throat. You can’t let him win this way, you can’t let him have the last word. So, you raise your right hand to his shoulder and with a few calculated movements of your wrist, his vibranium arm clicks and falls to the floor with a solid thud.

            Bucky’s stunned as he lets go of your throat and watches you slip through the ropes around the perimeter of the sparring ring. His eyes dart down to the black and gold arm at his feet and then back over to you as you head for the door, looking so damn content with yourself. He leans down and retrieves the arm, quickly positioning it for reattachment.

            “Can’t finish the job without the vibranium arm, can you?” You ask smugly, daring to steal one last look at him over your shoulder as you near the exit. You watch as he reattaches the arm and then rotates it fully in a circle around its socket. Something about the entire process is undeniably hot.

            “I finished the job without it the first night that HYDRA gave you the injection, twice.”

            You’re frozen in place as the memory floods in again. It’s not in bits and pieces this time, it’s not in flashes. You have a full body experience as you envision your head falling back against Bucky’s shoulder and his flesh fingers dipping between your legs. Two orgasms. He gave you two orgasms without ever lifting a vibranium finger.

            Bucky sees the shift in your demeanor. He can tell you’re lost in the memory when you don’t even track him as he tugs off his shirt and drops it on the mat before climbing through the ropes and making his way over to you, closing the distance quickly. By the time you’re coming back to reality, his flesh hand is sliding against the curve of your jaw while his vibranium arm is wrapping around your waist, tugging you into him. He kisses you desperately, and you feel the same fireworks you felt the first time he did it in that damn bunker.

            When you kiss him back, he can’t fucking control himself. He’s backing you into the closed door of the gym and tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth before slipping his tongue into your mouth and tasting you. Your lungs are burning for air by the time you realize what the hell you’re doing, and you push your palms flat against his bare chest. He sucks in a deep breath when you part, but it’s not enough, oxygen isn’t enough. You’re the only thing that makes him feel like he’s alive and he fucking needs you. If he could just breathe you in, he’d already be doing it.  

            “I’ve wanted to knock on your door every single night since you’ve been back here, just to ask if I can lay next to you for even a minute.” Bucky whispers against your lips, gently tracing the outline of your mouth with his thumb as he peers into your eyes. You look up at him through your lashes as you take in the confession.             “Why?” You ask, matching the quietness of his tone.           

            “Because I got a taste of what it feels like and I haven’t been able to sleep since.”

            “That’s all you want?” You pry, narrowing your eyes at him and letting your hands wander up to the sides of his ribcage. Something about being so close to him feels right, and yet, you hear alarm bells ringing in your head. You shouldn’t be doing this. You shouldn’t be confusing yourself like this. What happened in the bunker, under the influence of whatever was being pumped into your system, is clouding your judgement. You start to pull away from Bucky, but he refuses to drop the arm he has hooked around your back or the hand on the side of your face.

            “I want so much more than that.” He answers thoughtfully as his eyes dart down to your lips. “But that…I could live off of the feeling I get when I lay next to you for the rest of my life.”

            “Bucky, don’t say shit like that.” You tense up, grabbing both of his arms in your hands and pushing him away from you cautiously. He lets it happen, but he sure as hell isn’t planning on letting you walk out that door. Taking one step back, he notes that you haven’t actually made a move to leave yet, you’re just making sure he stays at arm’s length.

            “You’ll moan my name when I talk dirty to you but you can’t stand when I say something real?”

            “Fuck you. That’s not even real that’s just…you just think it’s real because we were under the influence of such a powerful drug. It’s clouding your memory, making you think we had some kind of real connection when we didn’t.”

            “I haven’t been able to sleep since the last night I laid in bed with you. That’s real.”

            “Okay, but you’ve had issues with insomnia for forever. It makes sense that those issues would flare up after what we went through down there.” You point out, trying to be rational.

            “I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind since the moment I woke up in that damn hospital. That’s real.” He’s going to keep listing things out to counter your argument until one of you runs out of responses. He isn’t going to let you diminish the connection that you had long before HYDRA stepped into the picture. It was real, it’s still real, and he’s clinging to it like it’s a lifeline.

            “You also put all of your energy into avoiding me for the past week. That’s real too, Bucky.” You cross your arms over your chest and lean back against the door, tempted to just throw it open and make a run for your room to get out of this conversation.

            “Because I felt guilty.” He finally admits. He breaks eye contact for a moment, turning to the side and reaching up with his flesh hand to massage his temples with his thumb and middle finger. You take the opportunity to run your eyes down his form, taking in his toned torso and flesh arm as he collects himself.

            ���We talked about that already.” You say softly, resisting the urge to reach out and touch him. “And then…” Bucky looks over at you, waiting for the end of your sentence to come. “And then you let me take advantage of you.” You remind him, not that he needs reminding. His breath hitches in his throat just at the mere fact that you’re the one bringing the memory up. You feel powerful for a fleeting second, so fucking powerful for having a visible effect on a man like Bucky.

            “I don’t feel guilty about that part of it anymore, you remedied that.” He assures you, avoiding your gaze. He goes back to massaging his temples like he has a headache and you let your arms fall away from your chest.

            “What do you feel guilty about then?” Bucky shakes his head before the question has fully left your mouth, and you’re starting to sense that you might not get an answer. “Bucky, please.” Fuck. He actually groans at the small taste of your begging, and that only gives him another reason to feel guilty. He takes a few abrupt steps away from you and glances at the clock, noting how much time has passed since everyone left for the funeral. People should be getting back to the tower soon.

            “HYDRA chose you because of your connection to me.” He’s expecting you to be upset, to blame him forever maybe. How dare he put you in harm’s way? How dare he be the reason that HYDRA snatched you off of the street that night? It’s why your soft chuckle has him whipping his head around to see if it’s really coming from you. That soft chuckle turns into an all-out laugh when you make eye contact with him, and confusion begins spreading across his features.             “What the hell did you think I thought? That they chose me because I’m so special and fertile?” You ask, your laugh breaking through every other word. “Bucky, no shit they chose me because I’m connected to you. They knew you wouldn’t have cooperated with just any woman they locked you in a room with.” He’s dumbfounded as he stares at you, truly not understanding how you’re so calm about this.

            “You should be pissed at me.” He says lowly, turning back toward the sparring ring and heading back for his shirt.

            “I’m pissed at you for avoiding me for days, and pissed that you were one of the ones acting like I was a fragile piece of fine China after I got back here. I’m not pissed at you for HYDRA’s bullshit.”

            Bucky continues moving across the gym, and you watch with bated breath as he scoops up his shirt and pulls it over his head. He reaches for your water bottle and phone at the edge of the mats and takes one item in each hand before heading back in your direction, keeping his eyes down.

            “Nothing was your fault, Bucky.” You say softly, as he hands you your things. The genuine feeling in your words, in your tone, has Bucky’s heart clenching in his chest. He knows you mean it, that you believe it, but he can’t seem to find it within himself to agree with the statement. When he finally looks into your eyes, you can tell he’s waiting for you to move away from the door so he can leave. “You were the only reason I survived down there. That’s real.”

            You can tell your words have struck some kind of nerve inside of him, but you step aside anyway, letting him leave through the gym door without so much as letting out a sigh in response to you. How are you the one who feels like shit after that conversation? After he handed you your ass on the mats and then kissed you out of the fucking blue? Oh, right. You feel like shit because he stood in front of you begging you to see how real your connection is, while you attributed it all to the toxin that HYDRA pumped into you. The man hasn’t been able to sleep since he got a taste of sleeping next to you. When he ruined you for any other man beneath a thin white sheet and the weight of his body, you were inadvertently ruining him for everything. You never once stopped to think about the power you hold over Bucky Barnes, until right now. And now, you feel like shit.

            He needs your scent gone. As Bucky stands in the shower in his private bathroom, scrubbing shampoo so deeply into his scalp that even his brain will emanate a scent of cleanliness, all he can think about is the way his skin smells like you. He got way too fucking close to you in the gym. Not only did he get too close, but he went as far as kissing you. What a fucking ass. He’s beating himself up over it as he rinses the last of the shampoo out of his hair and moves on to washing his body.

            You just think it’s real because we were under the influence of such a powerful drug. Your words swirl around in his head, making his temples ache and his stomach churn. It’s not real to you at all. It’s clouding your memory, making you think we had some kind of real connection when we didn’t. Fuck. Bucky slams his flesh hand against the shower wall just like he did in the gym showers not long ago, but this time, it doesn’t crack. What the hell was he thinking talking to you like that? What did he expect to accomplish? Did he really think you’d fall into his arms and tell him everything was real and that you wanted him long before HYDRA ever walked into your life and stole you away? Fucking idiot. He cuts the water off abruptly, snatching his towel from where it hangs over the glass shower door. Maybe next time, he’ll punch that. It’d be satisfying to see the thousands of pieces of glass rain down onto the floor.

            You’re perched on the foot of the bed, replaying the same words in your own head. You were harsh and you regret it. Though you might’ve convinced yourself that your words ring true, that the HYDRA experiment is clouding both yours and Bucky’s judgement and making you feel a connection where there isn’t one, you didn’t have to rain on his parade in such a villainous way. You glance around the dimly lit room, noting the way it doesn’t look all that much different from yours, aside from the distinct lack of décor and personal items. Bucky’s room is quite monotone and depressing, honestly. Maybe he’d sleep better if he had a soft throw blanket or a white noise machine. When the bathroom door handle starts to turn just a few feet to your right, you stiffen but remain seated on the foot of Bucky’s bed, refusing to chicken out now.

            Bucky’s eyes land on your immediately, and that burning feeling takes up residence in his lungs once more. It’s that undeniable feeling that oxygen doesn’t do him a damn bit of good when you’re around. He stops short in the bathroom doorway, holding onto the white towel that’s wrapped loosely around his waist. It dips low enough to show off his v-line and you find it embarrassingly difficult to keep your gaze focused on his narrowed eyes and furrowed brow.

            “Your room is across the hall.” Bucky says flatly, cocking his head in the direction of the door to the hall. You nod slowly, taking his soft rejection and choosing to ignore it for now.

            “You kept telling me what was real.” You start nervously. Bucky narrows his eyes further and you have to look away from him. His hard gaze is enough to make anyone shake in their damn boots, and you’re not even wearing any. You sit on the foot of his bed in a pair of gray sweats and an oversized t-shirt, avoiding making eye contact, and feeling a bit like a fish out of water. But you’re not going to wimp out, not after busting in here like crazy person and making yourself at home while he was showering. “You kept telling me what was real, and I wasn’t listening.”

            “Not listening is kind of one of your things.” Bucky’s tone is still flat and emotionless, though a hint of humor seems to peek through as he taunts you. You nod again, swallowing hard as he crosses his arms over his chest, letting go of the towel. The poor towel is barely hanging onto his hips, and you wonder if Bucky’s even aware that it might slip off at any given moment.

            “You’re right.” You admit, stealing another look at his face. His expression is unreadable. “Which is why I thought I’d ask you to show me something real, instead of telling me something real.” Bucky stops breathing altogether as the words fall from your lips.

            “What?” He asks, seeking clarification or repetition, he isn’t even sure which. He feels the towel threatening to slip down past his hips, so he grabs the corner of it in his flesh quickly, keeping it in place as he stares you down. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips and you shift on the bed, turning to face him head-on.

            “Show me something real. Show me that the connection we felt down there wasn’t just adrenaline and chemicals and HYDRA bullshit.” You can feel your cheeks heating up as you lay out the request in front of him. When he stays still in the doorframe, staring at you like you have two heads, you try one last thing to get him to understand you. You grasp the hem of your shirt in both hands and tug it over your head slowly, tossing the piece of fabric onto his bedroom floor. His eyes follow it like he’s afraid it might start a fucking wildfire the second it hits the carpet. But when he looks back at you? When he sees you sitting on the foot of his bed, in a little black bralette that perfectly cups your breasts with his dog tags hanging down the middle of your chest, the wildfire starts inside of him.  “Show me something real, Bucky.” You plead, taking one last deep breath before deciding to shut up. The ball is in his court now, and whatever he decides to say or do is completely out of your control.

            Your breath hitches in your throat as Bucky’s gaze softens and his eyes flit up to meet yours in what feels like a warm embrace. He takes slow steps toward the bed, never breaking eye contact. When he reaches the foot of the bed, he reaches out with his flesh hand and you lean your cheek against his palm almost instinctively. Even then, you feel it. Connection. It’s like electricity sparking between his skin and yours as he glides his hand down to feel the curve of your jaw. Your eyes are closing at the gentle touch, at the light caress of his thumb over your cheekbone.

            “Do you feel that?” His voice is husky as the question swirls around the space between you. He leans down until his lips are brushing against yours, but he doesn’t kiss you. “Just touching you like this is enough to help me sleep at night.”

            “Bucky.” You breathe his name out as you relax into his touch, and then he’s kissing you. He’s pressing his lips against yours softly at first, pulling back after two seconds to see how you’ll react, but you’re reaching up and grasping his face in both of your hands. You pull him back in immediately, kissing him like you really believe it’s real. It’s real. He moves over you on the bed, laying you down and pushing his tongue into your mouth while keeping his vibranium hand firmly on his towel. You feel the same fireworks from that first kiss in the bunker, igniting in the pit of your stomach and exploding outward, making your skin tingle and your cheeks flush pink.

            “Kissing you like this is enough to make me forget who I used to be.” He whispers against your lips, pressing his forehead against yours before lowering his body down more. You feel his weight settling over you and all you can hear in your head is a repetitive chorus of your own voice saying it’s real. “What more do you need to see that it’s real?”

            Bucky drags his thumb along your bottom lip, tugging it down as he looks into your eyes and awaits an answer. Your hands rest lightly on the bare skin of his sides, but as you contemplate his question, your right hand starts shifting. You slide it further down his side until you feel the fabric of his towel near his hip, then you follow the seam around his front until you get to where his vibranium hand is fisting the corner of it.

            “I need you.”

            Sex with Bucky Barnes is nothing like it was at the hands of HYDRA. With your clothes and his towel long forgotten on his bedroom floor, there’s nothing between the two of you as he shows you just how real your connection is. As he pushes his length into you, pressing his forehead against yours and staring into your widened eyes, you can’t deny it. When he drags his cock right back out at a torturously slow pace, you’ve never quite felt anything like this. It isn’t just the physical aspect of what he’s doing to you, it’s the intimate emotional part as well. He fucks you like…like he loves you. He fucks you like this was all inevitable, whether HYDRA chose you or not, it was always going to end up being you and him.

            Bucky’s committing every second of this time with you to memory. He’s storing it away, holding onto it so he’ll never forget. Bucky never wants to forget the moment that he watched you fall in love with him, right in front of his damn eyes.

TAG LIST:

@sunnyhummingbee @gyokujyn @jenniferpendragon @siciliano13 @ordelixx @crist1216 @twlkdead @claireelizabeth85 @charmedbysarge @blackhawkfanatic @kentokaze @eecummingsandgoings @nyashonality @h2oaffirmations @sadeyes61 @aka-tua-braindump @immortalfangirl @valenftcrush @andrometda @sillysillygoose444 @gracescor3 @hellsenthero @mistressmkay @shortnloud @stellarburritos @hazbin-h0etel @mostlymarvelgirl @lesleurs @lillianacristina @frombkjar @witch-lemon @edelweissbarnes @glowstickfluid01 @its-daydreamer23 @sadiechar @hallecarey1 @hhiggs @steeph-aniie @lilipiggytails @ladyvenera @theallknown213 @loki-laufeyson68 @bellatrixskr @observantplum-blog @sydnielauryn @dunningz

#bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #the winter soldier #winter soldier

[gglitch1dd]

A Former Hero

Blind DILF Midoriya Izuku x Fem Reader

Context: Izuku is just trying to get his groceries when he runs into you.

WARNING: Blind Izuku, blind jokes

Note: This WILL NOT be having a part 2. I wrote this 2 years ago and only remembered about it now. So my writing style is pretty old here.

The soft tap of the white and red striped cane was something that he had gotten used to, as the man tried to make his way from the entrance of the store he knew well, to the customer help desk, mostly based off of memory. He always disliked how far away it was from the entrance, but he never had trouble with the distance before he went blind, so he wasn’t sure whether he was allowed to complain or not.

All he had to do was get there, grab the bag and get out. Like clockwork.

The man perked up but didn’t stop. The sound of heavy footsteps were closing in on him. There was someone running in front of him. Years of training and experience in being a hero making his senses extra sensitive.

A group of older kids, maybe 11 to 13, laughing and giggling amongst themselves moved in a line together in the same isle of the man in front of them. Not noticing him, or more specifically his lack of sight, one of them bumped into him, nearly knocking him over. Before he could use his reflexes two hands held him up right unexpectedly.

“Hey!” You stood holding onto the rather large man as you glared over at the kids behind him. “You bumped into him. The least you could do is apologize if you bump into someone!” You shouted at them.

One of them rolled their eyes at you, while another sighed. The one that actually bumped him, rubbed the back of her neck. “Sorry about that.” She apologized with a shallow bow before turning back to her friends. “Come on, lets just go.” She told them. You ignored their little snide remarks about you and returned your attention to the man you were stopping from getting to his destination.

You shook your head with a tsk. “One day, I’m going to punch someone else’s child.” You said more to yourself than to anyone else.

You heard a chuckle resonate from your right catching you off guard. It was such a deep chuckle it took you by surprise. “I promise not to tell a soul if you do.” He said straightening up to his full height. “If you get caught though, I promise to be your alibi. I didn’t see a thing.” The man in front of you was tall, really tall, much taller than you and had a broad build that showed he worked out. He had a black cap over his head, concealing any sort of hair with dark sunglasses covering his eyes. His face was speckled in freckles, with four main ones that were extremely prominent on both cheeks. He gave you a small smile.

After a moment, you let out a snort at his satire. You let out a laugh making his smile broaden. You waved a finger at him. “Ah. I see what you did there.”

“I didn’t.”

“Well-” You stopped yourself mid-sentence. He did it again, this time his smile turned into a grin exposing sharp canines. You glared at him. “You’re not funny.” You said, even though you were smiling.

“I’d like to think I am.” He told himself. “And either way, I can hear your smile, so totally worth it.” You chuckled at the strange man in front of you, even though dressed in rather dark clothing, he seemed like a bright person in reality. “Thank you, by the way.” His smile slowly dropping from his face. He motioned behind him. “For that.”

“Oh, that was nothing.” You promised him. “It was the right thing to do. Someone’s gotta say something.” You told him truthfully. “Actually, can I help you with anything?” You asked him, trying your best to sound as respectful as possible as to not offend him. You had your fair share of people swatting you at the back of the head for ‘assuming’ them helpless. “I don’t have anything to do right now actually, and I’m done stacking the cans of beans anyways.” You said motioning to where you were seated on a crate. You quickly dropped your hands once you, again, realized who you were talking to. Heat rushing to your face as you internally cursed at yourself.

So, you were a worker? Probably new since you didn’t know he was a regular here. He hummed in thought. It would surely make this whole processes easier and faster for him to get back home. He nodded his head. “Sure, that would be great actually.”

“Alright. I…” You stood next to him facing forward. “I’m going to take your arm, is that alright?” You asked hesitantly.

He smiled at the fact you were warning him and asking for his consent first. “Yes.” He let out with an underlying laugh. “That’s alright.”

You carefully wrapped your arm around his, hooking yours with his. His arm was thick and muscled underneath his black hoodie. You wondered what he did for a living. Once you had adjusted to the size of his body next to yours, you led him forward. “Forward please. I’ll make sure you won’t hit anything, promise.” You told him.

“Well, I can only trust you.” He expressed.

Surprisingly you led him really well. Down the aisle together, you sparking bits of simple conversation like about the weather, and then you realizing he couldn’t see the weather and then you profusely apologizing that you couldn’t watch what you were saying and him laughing. He shook his head, telling you that it was fine and he enjoyed the warm weather outside. Finding it refreshing.

Then you were at the customer help desk, one of your follow employees standing at the waiting. An older woman with greying hair who had been working there for years. For the short time that you had been employed, she never hesitated to guide you and help you at your new job. The older lady perked up in surprise, upon seeing you walk with someone she knew as a regular. “Mr Midoriya.” She greeted with a bow. Your eyebrows raised. So, that was his name. “How are you today?” She asked him as she bent down to get something from under the counter.

He smiled. “I’m fine, thank you. Are you alright, Mrs Fujita? How are the triplets?” He asked.

She gave a pulled-out sigh. “You know children, Mr Midoriya. Always wanting to do and have everything.”

Midoriya hummed in agreement, knowingly. “Yes, I always have to ask you for extra sweets because Honoka keeps eating all of mine.” He states amusingly, making Mrs Fujita laugh. Mrs Fujita placed one of their weekly food bags on the table. It was supposed to be in a box but was placed in a pretty picnic bag instead. “Although I think her mom is starting to notice the sugar highs she has when she leaves my place.”

You looked between him and Mrs Fujita listening on their conversation. He was a father? You looked at his hands still holding his white cane. His left hand was bare of any sort of ring. Single father?

Mrs Fujita laughed. She then noticed your inquisitive look. “I see you’ve met our newest worker, Y/N.”

“Y/N?” He asked. You hummed squeezing his arm once to indicate to him that you were still there. He turned his head slightly towards your direction. “Hm.” He turned back to face forward. “Well, at least now I have a name to a voice.”  

“Come to think of it, Mr Midoriya…” Mrs Fujita started as she placed her hands on her hips. It was a stern motherly look that she often gave you or the others whenever you were misbehaving. Midoriya could hear the tone of her voice and he instantly knew he was in trouble. “Where is that beautiful guide dog of yours?”

He raised a hand to rub the back of his neck, almost like a scolded child. You giggled quietly at the image of a man more than double your size look embarrassed. “She’s… at home.”

“Mr Midoriya.”

“I just wanted to go out by myself. She was napping and I didn’t want to disturb her. I was doing so well too.” He pointed it out like it was a victory.

Mrs Fujita looked at him with a blunt look. She motioned to you. “Then why is Y/N leading you by the arm?” She asked him.

Midoriya hesitated. “Okay but that wasn’t me, some kid just bumped into me.”

Mrs Fujita looked to you as confirmation. You nodded your head. She dropped her shoulders. “As long as I’m not picking up your ass in aisle three again because you tripped over a can of beans, then that’s fine with me.” She shrugged. She pushed the bag with effort across the counter towards him, handles already up for him to grab. “You know, we can always have these delivered to you Mr Midoriya. It would be easier on you.” She said.

“Yah…” He picked up the bag effortlessly with one hand. “But then I don’t get to hear your voice every week and that would be a shame. Who else would I talk to?” He asked. He motioned with his head that the two of you could start heading towards the exit of the store.

“You have friends, Mr Midoriya.”

Midoriya let out a hum almost affirming but not really listening to what she was saying. You turned him around walking away from the counter. “I won’t be seeing you next week, Mrs Fujita.” He spoke loudly.

“How come?” She asked

“Because I doubt my lack of sight would have changed by then!” He shouted back to her. You stifled a giggle at his satire. He felt the little giggle you were trying to hide and smiled. “She’ll lecture me about my jokes, next week.” He stated.

You let out an audible laugh. “I don’t doubt that.” You safely led him out of the store and out into the afternoon sun. “Did you walk?” You asked him.

He shook his head. “Not today.” He turned to look in the right direction. He temporarily let go of you and pulled out car keys from his hoodie pocket. He pressed a button and a car roared to life close by. “There.” He pointed in the direction of the car.

Your eyes widened as the two of you approached the car. It was rather luxurious to say the least. Not very eye catching but you could tell by the hum of the car and the modal that it wasn’t something you would walk upon everyday, but in great disguise from other flashy cars. “You drove your car here?” You asked speechless.

He laughed. “My car drove me here.” He corrected you. You left him by the passenger seat door.

“Here let me help you.” You tell him placing your hands by the basket handles.

“Alright, but it might be a bit heavy for you.” He warned you.

“I’m sure I’ll be- HOLY SHIT.” The bag nearly hit the ground before you using all your might to hold it.

Midoriya laughed at your shock. “I warned you.” He bent down and tried taking the bag from your hands only to discover you had already started your waddle to the trunk of his car.

You grunted as you tried your best not to fall over. “I’ve… I’ve got it.” You managed to let out strained as you put the bag in his car. “Jeez, this things heavy. What do you have in here? Dumbbells?” You asked.

“Dog food, protein powder, potatoes and wine.” He stated. He perked up. “Oh, and tea.”

You glared at him but managed to put the bag in the back. You closed the trunk and the car made a sound. Midoriya smiled and entered the passenger seat of his car, rolling down the windows. “Start Engine.” He spoke as he put on his seatbelt.

The engine roared to life at his command. You walked over to stand by the window of his car. You watched in fascination as the dashboard which was more like one long screen sprung to life. A small smiley face appeared in the centre. “Afternoon, where would you like to go?” The female AI voice spoke.

“Home please, Glitch.” He stated. Midoriya turned to the side where you stood. He raised a dark eyebrow. “Y/N?”

“Yes.”

“Thanks for the help. I appreciate it.” He bowed his head.

You smiled broadly. “It’s no problem, Mr Midoriya.” You bowed at the waist. “Have a nice day.” You said as you walked away.

He smiled at your kindness. “You too.” Midoriya pressed a button to close his tinted window.

Just then the smiley face turned into a green tick. “Destination set for home.” The AI spoke out. “Will arrive at destination in around five minutes.” A green route displayed on the screen for a moment, as the car started to reverse. Midoriya took off his cap and sunglasses. His eyes closed as he relaxed against the cushioned leather seat. He rolled his shoulders. Instantly the effort of having to go about his day weighed on him like a suffocating hanging cloud of smoke. He was one of the strongest men in the world and yet he felt as though he couldn’t bare the weight of anything anymore.

-Glitch1d

#izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #mha x y/n #deku x reader #midoriya x reader #dilf midoriya #dilf izuku midoriya x reader #dilf izuku midoriya #dilf izuku x reader #dilf deku #midoriya izuku x reader smut #izuku x y/n #izuku x you

[savanir]

DP x DC prompt [3]

during one of the final psych evals at Arkham right before he gets to be released, the whole thing wrapped up so tidy, just a little relapse which involved a robbery. Getting sent back to Arkham, but he got to stay at the asylum so long that he no longer has to serve a prison sentence, score!

But during that eval his overseeing psychiatrist recommended him to have a change of scenery, some fresh non polluted air.

Riddler was rather convinced the guy was making this recommendation to everyone in Arkham in their own weird way to convince them to just leave Gotham and become someone else's problem. should he notify Batman about it somehow? nah, it’ll be more interesting to see how this is gonna turn out in the long run.

But can he leave the state? Can he even leave the city? he never really bothered to look into it, at least not legally, up until now if he felt he needed to leave for one of his plans he just did it.

Turns out he can, it’s a whole hassle and a half though, first a judge and then a probation officer and he’s pretty sure both were like “what the hell is this psychiatrist guy thinking!?” but at the same time, shrink probably knows what he’s doing (WRONG) so he’s allowed to go visit out of state family or whatever.

he had to wear this nice ankle monitor though, Wayne Enterprises™ tech, not overly bulky but still very present. real fancy, and a fun extra challenge heh.

now as for a good reason to leave New Jersey he’s going to need distant relatives, and he finds some, great grandpa walker also has a son, who had a son who had a daughter Madeline, who married some guy Jack Fenton, and she lives somewhere out in the boonies Illinois. great he’ll visit her.

far enough away in all sense of the word that there is no way she knows anything about him. it would be best to call her first though, be polite about it.

“hello, you have reached Fenton works, this is Maddie speaking” 

“Riddle me this-” ah whoops, habit, oh whatever, “we don’t share parents, but certainly a part of your life, from laughter to strife. Who am I?”

there is a pause …  he’s going to be a bit disappointed if she hangs up if he’s honest.

“cousins~” comes the cheery reply.

“correct! the name is Edward Nygma, we are distantly related you and I and well-”

“oh you simply must come visit!” 

well this was rather easy, perhaps a little too easy, but she lives in the midwest so maybe just going with whatever some guy says over the phone is normal there? stranger danger not really a thing in a small town where everyone knows everyone?

things start to make a little more sense once he gets there and he’s starting to think some things might run in the family. like a preference for the colour green and weird hyperfixations and genius bordering on insanity. Though that remains to be seen, Jack does not seem like a very bright light after his very enthusiastic welcome.

their kids however are observant and sharp. young Jasmine is wasting no time trying to psychoanalyze him. and the boy, Danny, he had not really meant to and he swears he’s sticking with calling the kid Danny so he wouldn’t seem overly familiar, but he might have called him little bird a couple times now.

but that’s all whatever, he’s playing nice here. and he doesn’t even have to worry about his eccentricities tripping him up because this place is insane.

There actually is a local teen vigilante active but he seems about as loved as he’s disliked. and the ghost boy’s enemies are basically all his own kind, which another crazy thing to now know about. ghost. they are real actually, how is Gotham not completely overrun? and how do they even work? and where do they keep coming from?

Edward might be getting a little sidetracked here. He had fully intended to sneakily get his next big game plan underway all the way out here, ankle monitor be damned. but he hasn’t made any progress at all.

Instead he’s been listening to Madeline and Jack to maybe figure out what the deal is with these ectoplasmic entities, he has to know, at this point he might go crazier if he doesn’t. 

He’s making Jasmine promise him not to get her doctorate in Gotham, he’s going back and forth with space riddles with Danny.

so yeah the whole thing kinda just became a vacation, maybe the psychiatrist had the right idea after all? hmm nah, probably not. but this is fun. He’s thinking about recommending this place to some of the others.

It's different enough to get the vacation feel, but enough crazy shit happens to make it all feel like home.

it is not until Maddie wants to talk with him about potentially switching the position of godfather of Danny to him rather than some weird rich friend of theirs that Edward realizes he might have lost the plot somewhere

Apparently the little bird basically begged them with a powerpoint presentation on how he likes Edward so much more than that Vladimir guy. 

And honestly, the fellow sounds like a Dracula Lutho so even if it’s kinda sad Edward can understand why he’d be considered a better option. Even if the guy has more money and a huge company that makes him said money. And it’s not like the Fentons know about his Riddler activities.

Thinking it over, Edward does think that Danny would like Gotham and Wayne has that space program thing right? The kid is definitely smart enough for that (Nygma certified), and yeah Edward does quite like their space themed back and forth. So, fuck it, why not, what is the worst that could happen?

He doubts Maddie and Jack are gonna kick it any time soon anyway out here in the boonies, it’s just a title thing, a stamp of approval or something.

he should have known he was going to eat those words later… he had this whole beautifully elaborate trap set up for the whole Batclan, and he was just getting to the good part when his phone went off.

Had to put the whole thing on pause cause that particular contact wasn’t gonna get ignored. He did promise to be available.

If the whole thing he had planned now went tits up he could at the very least laugh later at the reactions of the bats as he told them to “hold up one second, I have to take this.” while they were all in various perilous positions. 

Sadly he did have to go, he had a very distressed godson to pick up.

#dc x dp #danny phantom #dcxdp #dpxdc #danny fenton #The Riddler #jasmine fenton #madeline fenton #jack fenton #edward nygma #Story idea #it took me annoyingly long to figure out how to add a read more line btw #I was going to add some other things as well but I didn't want it to get super long #I imagine Vlad was absolutely furious about losing his godfather status #but our boy Eddie just runs circles around him and humiliates him every step of the way #there is only one vampire themed guy that can put the Riddler in his place and you ain't it chief #also I was planning on adding a thing where Edward ends up in the ghost zone somehow #which makes his ankle monitor go off #notifying the bats #because he either somehow managed to destroy the thing in an instant without making any of the build in warnings go off #or he's no longer on the planet

[mariasont]

Be So Stupid - S.R

a/n: this has been sitting in my WIPs for so long and i finally finished it! now going to reward myself with online shopping xoxo

kind of inspired by when jj and reid split up in season 2 i think? when morgan was kinda being rude to her but i picture like season 12-13 spence

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: you make a mistake while on a case nearly getting spencer killed, morgan has some choice words and spencer is ready to beat his ass over it

warnings: morgan being a little shit simply for the plot, mention of spencer almost dying, spencer being a protective king pussy boss

wc: 1.4k

How could you be so stupid?

Those were the words that had been on replay, a constant loop, for the past two days. It's because, somewhere inside, you knew Morgan was justified in what he said. How could you have been so stupid to split up with Spencer at the unsubs house?

He was taken by the unsub, a trigger pull away from death. But the team got there, and he was okay. He was alive and breathing and healthy, and you tried to focus on these facts when your chest tightened with that familiar agonizing twinge.

It was a relief not to face anyone afterward. As soon as you got home from the case, you holed yourself up in your apartment, obsessively dissecting the events until the recollections twisted your insides with a nauseating sense of dread. You had run through every potential scenario in your head, agonizing over the grim outcomes if you hadn't arrived when you did.

You would've never forgiven yourself.

So here you were, hiding out in Penelope's lair, doing your paperwork. You convinced yourself it wasn't hiding; rationalizing it as a need for more peace and quiet than the bullpen could offer. You knew it was bullshit, and so did Garcia.

"Just so you know, I'm fully prepared to kick his ass on your behalf," she announced, swiveling to face her monitors, the ribbons in her hair trailing her movement like colorful comets. "It was totally uncalled for. Everyone agrees."

"Everyone?"

"Well, okay, not Spencer, but that's only because he doesn't know," Garcia continued, her pen tapping a silent code against her cheek, followed by the clack of keys. "If he did, he'd definitely kick his ass."

"I don't know about that," you said, repeatedly stretching and releasing the hair tie around your wrist, each snap a self-inflicted reprimand.

"He called you stupid." She was shaking her head so vigorously her blonde locks tumbled into her eyes as she paused her typing to look at you. "And you, my gorgeous friend, are anything but."

"Generally speaking, sure, but this time, Pen, I really screwed up."

"Who called you stupid?"

Spencer's voice was incredibly hard to ignore, distinct—you would recognize it anywhere.

Garcia and you stopped dead, your eyes growing impossibly large as she gave you a look as if to say, Morgan is screwed.

"No one."

"Morgan."

You and Garcia blurt your words out at the same time, your voices clashing in the air. You whipped your head to Garcia, the betrayal written on your face as she only shrugged her shoulders.

"Why would he say that to you?"

Spencer's steps towards you were measured, but each one amplified your unease, you hands wringing together as you looked away. He could read you like a book, and most times that was a good thing, but today it was definitely not.

"It's really not a big deal, Spencer," you insisted, pursing you lips as you dragged your gaze up and over him. "But how about you? How are you holding up?"

You were on your feet in an instant, a little too quickly, wobbling on your heel just a tab before Spencer grabbed your elbow. You ignore his touch, or at least you try, and press the back of your hand to his forehead.

He wasn't warm, but you sure were.

"You know, I don't think you should be back at work so soon."

You weren't lying when you said that. It seemed to soon. Was he looking a little pale? You couldn't tell. He should be home.

His hand was suddenly around your wrist, soft but firm, easing you away from his forehead, his eyes narrowing at you.

"Hey, I'm alright." He was trying to be assuring, offering a faint smile that only served to make your stomach do backflips. "Really, I am."

His fingers frapped around your wrist, not quite letting go, as he directed his attention to Garcia. "Why did he say that to her?"

"I'm right here," you grumbled under your breath, but Spencer was paying you no mind.

"I'm aware," Spencer answered without looking at you as his hands found their way to your shoulders, thumbs tracing absent patterns on your skin. "But you are not providing any answers."

Garcia cut in, folding her arms over her chest as her eyes pinned you with an unspoken accusation. "He said it because you two split up on the case."

Her words seemed to thicken the air itself, snatching away the previous ease as Spencer's expression darkened. It was a new and unsettling sight--the tightness in his jaw, the faint crease in his brows, and the steely sharpness in his eyes.

Without uttering a single syllable, he spun on his heel and strode out the door. You didn't hesitate to chase after him, an inkling of his destination propelling you forward. The look on his face had planted a seed of fear about what he was going to do.

Sure enough, there he was, just as you anticipated, in the middle of the bull pit. His gaze locked on Morgan with a laser-like precision, like a hawk eyeing its prey.

"How could you say that to her?" His voice was jagged, hands thumping against Morgan's shoulders in a way that you frantically looked around for Hotch. "What? Were you trying to make her feel bad? What's the matter with you?"

"How could you say that to her?" His voice was rough, hands tapping against Morgan's shoulders in a way that made you panickily look for Hotch. "What, were you trying to make her feel bad? What's the matter with you?"

"Easy, Spencer, what are you getting at?" Morgan's hands went up defensively. But when Spencer's eyes flickered to you, the puzzle pieces clicked into place. "Oh..."

Morgan's eyes found yours. "Come here, sugar."

Morgan was your friend, a good one at that, and you really didn't blame him for what he said. He had good intentions. But here in the bullpen being open and exposed you found yourself stalling, glancing towards Spencer.

Only after he gave you a nod did you take that tentative step forward, clammy palms running down your pants as you stood in front of Morgan.

"Look, I was out of line. Calling you stupid was stupid of me," he started, hand grabbing on your upper arm as he spoke. "We've all been in tough spots and I was an asshole for adding to the pressure instead of helping you through it."

And you knew he meant it, even if it took Spencer nearly coming to blows to bring it about. 

"It's okay, I know you didn't mean it, Morgan. And it was my fault really, for not staying with Spencer."

"First off, we made that call together, so if anyone's at fault, it's both of us," Spencer reminded, his hand settling on your lower back as he moved closer to you. His gaze then drilled into Morgan. "And second, Morgan, she's too nice. I say you owe her a month's work of paperwork at least."

You opened your mouth to object, but Morgan cut you off, his hand on your shoulder stopping me mid-breath. "After what I said? I'll do you one better--I'll handle your paperwork for two months."

He was gone before you could even thank him, making his way towards the break room, leaving you and Spencer.

"Hey, look at me." You did, raising your eyes to meet his. "What happened on that last case—it's not on you. We made a call, and we did it with the best intentions. It's not your fault."

He regarded you so... softly. It stirred a flutter of goosebumps across your skin, your hands rubbing up and down your arms as if to smooth away the sensation.

"Seeing you in that situation, so close to..." You paused, drawing in a ragged breath as the sickening memories came flooding back. "I can't help but feel responsible. It's a tough guilt to shake."

He rearranged a lock of hair behind your ear. 

"It's a cognitive distortion to assume sole responsibility, but that's just your brain tricking you." Taking your hand he pressed it over his heart. "A human heart beats over two billion times in a lifetime. And every beat right now is telling you, I'm all good."

You could feel his heartbeat—thump, thump—against your palm. You caught yourself wanting to know what it would be like to fall asleep to the sound.

You were so close to each other now, the distance, or lack thereof, slightly overwhelming. "You're all good?"

He gave your hand a squeeze. "I'm all good."

You remained motionless, hand pressed to his chest, wondering if your heart could ever beat in sync with his.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf @sarcasm-and-stiles @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath

#spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x fem reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid #dr reid #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic

[loudstan]

(67) Days of Whatever the Fuck that Was (PART 1.)

Summary: Chenle wasn't interested in committed relationships until he met the one. The problem is that now she is the one who doesn't want to commit to him.

Pairing: Werewolf! Chenle x Siren! Female reader

Warnings: OOff where do I start. Things get dubious, and even a bit non-conish sometimes so do not read if that's not something you're into. A lot of mind games, manipulation, gaslighting, and all the red flags you can think of. Y/N is MEAN. Also, this is super long so i had to make two separate posts. Read both if you want to know how it ends! SMUT.

Chenle didn’t understand why everyone said they had such a hard time trying to get their mates to accept them. All his pack brothers told horrendous stories about how hard it was to approach, confess, and get together with their destined person (except for Haechan, who found the whole ‘bugging her every day until she says yes´ approach normal). So far, all their mates had not been wolves like them, so it made sense that they didn’t immediately believe them, nor did they want to compromise to be with them for life. 

But Chenle? Chenle had his mate in his arms right now, not even five minutes after first laying eyes on her, kissing him and giggling playfully at his dumbfounded but eager state. 

He can barely remember how he got there. He remembers going to this bar that Jisung was ridiculously excited to check out. It was literally inside a ship that was (supposedly) safely anchored and that was accessible through a wooden bridge connected to the port. Rumor had it they served the most exquisite liquors from all around the world and they never stayed in the same town for more than a couple of months. Chenle found the concept of a wandering floating bar clever, especially because paying for a spot to park a ship wasn’t as expensive as renting a place on land and getting it ready for the business. He had some concerns regarding the legal permits to sell alcohol in different cities and countries, though.

 He was thinking about all the technical details that opening a business like this required while trying to decide what to order when he locked eyes with the bartender– the most beautiful creature he had ever seen– and he forgot how to speak, so he just looked at you dumbly as your lips moved delicately, asking him who knows what. 

You thought maybe he was new to drinking, so you leaned forward over the bar and pointed at some options on the menu, avoiding the ones that contained hard liquor. 

“Are you a beer-only type of person? This one is a little bitter but a lot of our regulars like it,” you tried to speak over the loud music. When he didn’t reply you tried again. “If you prefer something sweet there are a few cocktails that I could recommend but they are kinda strong–,” You looked up and saw that you had been talking to a wall the entire time; he wasn’t even looking at the menu. Instead, his eyes moved hesitantly from your lips to your neck and finally, your breasts, which were barely covered by your low-cut top, and had him salivating. 

He finally looked up when you scoffed. 

“That’s not really on the menu,” you teased him. You weren’t mad. You often got hit on during your shift, and you quite enjoyed the attention when it came from attractive young men. And this one was incredibly attractive. 

He cleared his throat. “S-sorry, I didn’t mean to stare–”

“Do they look good?” you asked, tilting your head and crossing your arms under your chest, making your tits look even prettier. 

He swallowed a groan and forced his eyes to look back into yours after taking a quick look. So you were a tease, huh? He could deal with that. “Yes,” he said, suddenly sounding very confident. “But they would look prettier with my mouth on them.”

You were taken aback by the change of demeanor, but you couldn’t deny it sounded tempting. You had had your fair share of one-night stands, most of them fun, some of them not so much, but you had never wanted to kiss someone you had just met this badly. 

“Sangie,” you turned and called for your coworker who was cleaning some glasses. “Can I take a short toilet break?”

Yeosang smirked knowingly and nodded. There weren’t many customers right now, so he could handle them just fine. Plus, it was the first time he saw you taking the initiative to go with someone, which had to mean you really liked that lucky guy. 

“Thanks! Love ya!” you said, leaving your workstation and grabbing the stranger’s hand, who let you guide him without even thinking about his friend waiting for him at the table. 

And now he was pressed against the wall of a restroom as you assaulted his lips until he felt light-headed. The way the ocean waves rocked the ship didn’t help. He felt drunk already and he hadn’t tried a single drop of alcohol. 

“What’s your name?” he asked in between kisses.

“Y/N,” you replied, pecking his lips. “And you are…?”

“Chenle,” he said, chasing your mouth. “Zhong,” he added. He thought you had to know his family name as well since it would be yours one day. 

You giggled against his lips and his heart skipped a beat. 

And then he almost had a heart attack when you placed his hand on your breast. 

“I thought you were gonna make them look prettier, Chenle Zhong” you taunted. 

He let out a sound that was between a laugh and a scoff. He would fix your attitude later, right now he was feeling too good to be mad about it.

He squeezed your breasts while he trailed your neck with wet kisses.

You sighed and closed your eyes in delight, waiting for him to fulfill his promise, but he was taking his sweet time with your neck. 

“Hey,” you tried to get his attention to no avail. “I can’t be here all night, you know?” you informed him, laughing. 

Either he didn’t hear you or he decided to completely ignore you because he seemed fixated on nibbling the soft skin on the crook of your neck.  

You normally wouldn’t mind some of that for foreplay, but you had to get back to work at some point. Not only that, but the constant licking and sucking on the same spot was starting to get painful.

“Chenle,” you hissed, tapping at his shoulder insistently, but instead of stopping he opened his mouth wider and you felt sharp teeth scratching the surface his tongue had abused before. “Chenle, stop!” you demanded, grabbing a handful of his hair and finally pulling his head back. “What are you doing?!” you asked him, holding him in place and using your other hand to soothe the sensitive patch of skin. 

He groaned and stared at you defiantly. “Let me go.”

“ You’ve  been sucking on my neck for five minutes.”

“I found the right spot,” he argued, trying to dive in again, and grunting when you pulled his hair harder. 

“Right spot for what?” you asked, baffled. 

“To bite you,” he replied, rolling his eyes like you had asked the dumbest question ever.

“...Nice, but that won’t get me off,” you explained. “So can we move on?”

His reddened eyes (had they always been red?) squinted at you. “My mate has a sassy mouth, huh? Let me make it official and then I’ll get you off all you want,” he offered, aiming for your neck and letting out a frustrated sigh when you stopped him again.

“I’m no one’s mate. What the fuck are you on about?” you asked in disbelief.

“You asked for my ID before I could order a drink, right? What species did it say I was?” he tried to explain as kindly as he could, but he sounded like an exhausted elementary school teacher. He was losing his patience and it was getting really hard to be coherent. 

“A werewolf, but–,” you stopped mid-sentence and your eyes widened in realization. “Oh…”

“Yes, ‘Oh’,” he echoed. “So why do you think I need to bite your neck?”

“…You imprinted on me?” you whispered, gulping.

“Smart girl,” he cooed, pecking your lips and making you blush at the unexpected praise.

Once again he started kissing your neck, teeth grazing against the skin threateningly. When you tried to pull his hair again he growled, opting for pinning both your hands on the wall.

“This is what’s going to happen,” he whispered next to your ear. “After I mark you, we’re going somewhere more…hygienic and comfortable, where we can mate properly. Once my rut is over, if you can walk, we’re going on a date to discuss the details of our future together. Marriage is a must, but pretty much everything else is negotiable. Do you like diamonds?” he recited like he had been preparing this script for a long time.

“Absolutely no—”

“No diamonds?” He asked skeptically, thinking you were rejecting his gemstone choice instead of his whole plan. The way you squirmed didn’t seem to give him a clue of your thoughts either, because all he did was pin both your hands together on top of your head with one of his hands while the other grabbed your jaw firmly to keep you in place. “I guess there are other options, but diamonds are the most durable…” he mumbled.

“I have no intention of—”

“What type of house would you like? If you don’t like any of the properties on sale we can get one designed and built to suit your taste. Anything for you. You’ll get anything you want as long as you’re mine,” he continued like he couldn’t hear you. He wasn’t one to lose his mind easily, but you smelled of sea salt, coconut, and vanilla and he couldn’t think of anything else besides having you by his side and spoiling you.

Your heart sprinted. This stranger was about to make you his for the rest of your life. He was certainly handsome, but you had no intention of settling down. There was a reason you worked in a wandering bar! You couldn’t stay in just one place and belong to one person. 

You tried to reason with him, but your pleas fell on deaf ears. All he did was whisper reassuring words as he prepared to sink his fangs on you.

“C-can you at least look at me first?” you begged.

You don’t know if it was your desperate tone or the way your body was trembling but he miraculously decided to grant you something, lifting his head to look into your eyes.

And his eyes were so full of adoration.

It almost made you feel guilty for what you were about to do.

…Almost.

You had promised your captain not to lure anyone into doing something you wanted again, but this was an emergency. 

“Chenle Zhong,” you called his name sweetly, the sweetest he’s heard from you so far. “You don’t want to mark me,” you assured him.

His brows furrowed.

“I… I want–,” he tried to look at your neck again.

“Look at me,” you commanded, still using your luring voice. “You don’t want to be with me.”

He shook his head, opening his mouth dumbly without being able to formulate a word.  He seemed confused, like he couldn’t remember what he wanted to say but refused to let you go still. You were impressed. No one had been able to resist your hypnosis and you were sure he would give in soon, but he was putting up a fight. How sweet.

“Let me go,” you instructed softly.

He didn’t reply, but he reluctantly let go of your arms.

“I will get back to work and you will go home,” you informed him.

He nodded slowly, lost in your eyes. 

“What will you do?” you asked.

“I will go home,” he replied monotonously.

“Good boy,” you replied, caressing his cheek. He was so pretty… totally your type but you two didn’t want the same thing, so it was better to end things right now. Ideally, you would have been able to reason with him without bewitching him… but you doubted he would agree with you when his rut was clearly about to hit. “I’m leaving first,” you finally said before unlocking the restroom door and stepping out.

As soon as you walked out you bumped into the guy Chenle had arrived with. His panicked expression made him look like a mom who lost her child at a supermarket and you wondered if he was the reason Chenle’s phone kept vibrating in his pocket while you two made out. 

His widened eyes looked at your neck and his mouth fell open comically. 

“I think your friend had too many drinks,” you said casually, walking past him and pointing at the restroom. “You should take him home.”

The man looked at you suspiciously before rushing into the restroom.

“Had fun?” Yeosang asked casually once you got back to work.

“Not really,” you sighed.

“He wasn’t that good, huh?” he offered you a sympathetic smile after handing a customer a freshly prepared cocktail. 

“No–I mean…I don’t know,” you shrugged. “We just weren’t compatible.”

“Hm…it was certainly quick,” he replied as he saw the man he was talking about being dragged out of the restroom by another guy. “There he goes. Not a heavy drinker I guess–oh,” he stopped mid-sentence to let out a soft gasp and locked eyes with you. “You did not,” he said in disbelief. 

“I did not what?” you asked, feigning innocence and keeping yourself occupied cleaning the already clean bar top.

“Did you do the thing?” he whispered, looking around like he was afraid someone would hear. 

“No,” you lied.

“I don’t remember preparing a single drink for him. And he walked into that restroom with you just fine. Why does he look so lost and dazed?”

You sighed. Of course, Yeosang would be able to tell. He had been raised by merpeople before he was recruited by Hongjoong. Many would believe Yeosang was a siren himself because of his bewitching aura and appearance, but he was human alright. A human who grew up mirroring and understanding siren behavior. It was thanks to him that the captain accepted you as part of the crew when he caught you stealing from him some years ago. Hongjoong would have never been reckless enough to take a half-siren in, but Yeosang seemed so excited to meet you and spend time with someone who wasn’t a complete brute. He gave the crew the most devastating puppy eyes as he asked if they could ‘keep’ you … How could Hongjoong say no to him? 

You had tried to escape a couple of times but Yeosang’s sad face when you got caught always made you feel terrible. You ended up growing fond of him and it didn’t bother you when he asked you if you wanted to help him make a seashell necklace or if you would let him brush your hair. Soon you started feeling comfortable around the others too as you understood that you weren’t a prisoner and that no one had any ill intention toward you. They saw you as part of the team. All you had to do was work at the bar, help keep the ship clean, and follow the captain’s rules.

 Speaking of rules…

“Y/N! Captain said not to!” Yeosang reprimanded you, looking from you to the exit as Chenle and his friend left. 

“It was an emergency!” you hissed.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked, scanning you with alarmed eyes but besides the purple marks on your neck, you seemed fine. 

“No,” you rolled your eyes. “I just shouldn’t have tried anything with a werewolf in the first place.”

“...Oh, well…uh-,” he blinked twice, trying to understand the problem. “I didn’t take you for a human supremacist…”

“Wha– I’m not a human supremacist, Yeosang!” you exclaimed, frustrated. “I’m not even fully human myself!”

“Then what was the problem?”

“He imprinted on me,” you disclosed before heading towards a new customer to take their order.

Yeosang’s widened eyes followed your movements. He was still silent even after you prepared the requested drink.

“What?” you asked when you noticed a tiny smile forming on his lips.

“Do you feel the same for him?” he asked you, failing to hide his excitement with the way his eyes glimmered. “Is that why you wanted to be alone with him?”

“What? No! I just wanted to have some fun tonight,” you replied. “Humans don’t have mates.”

“But sirens do,” he said.

Your neck almost snapped as you turned to look at him. “They do?!” you asked in shock. You grew up on land and didn’t know as much as Yeosang about sirens so this was new information for you.

He nodded.  “And you are half siren,” he reminded you.

“I’m mostly human, though,” you shrugged, pretending to inspect the bottles on the shelf. “But just out of curiosity, what does imprinting feel like for sirens?”

Yeosang hummed. “Well, besides the expected attraction and hornyness, you may feel kinda weak if you’re not with your partner. Some sirens get sick.”

You nodded. It should be fine, since you felt perfectly fine, besides the obvious sexual frustration. If you were lucky enough, the effect of the hypnosis would last enough for Chenle to leave you alone until the boat sailed to its next destination.

Meanwhile, Jisung finally managed to get Chenle home. Chenle was cooperating, but his body was acting kind of clumsy and he was running a fever that kept getting worse. 

Thanks to his friend’s zombie-like curt answers, Jisung figured out that Chenle had imprinted on the woman who worked at the bar and that she ‘smelt really good’, but he ‘did not want to mark her at all’ which was very odd for any werewolf who just had his rut triggered due to a fated meeting with their real mate. When Jisung tried to get some clarification, Chenle would simply reply that he needed to get home.

 What scared Jisung the most was that Chenle’s eyes looked empty, like he was dead inside. They had turned red like they usually did when they experienced strong emotions, but they didn’t express anything. 

So as soon as the front door opened and the two youngest were met with the familiar faces of their pack, Jisung asked for help.

“I think we need an exorcist,” he blurted out, fighting tears of terror and holding onto his probably demon-possessed friend’s arm.

“Finally,” Haechan murmured as he sprinted to his room to get his exorcism kit. “My time has come!” he yelled from a distance.

“What would you need an exorcist for?” Jeno asked skeptically. 

“Chenle is not Chenle,” Jisung answered, pointing at Chenle who was standing like a statue next to him. 

“He looks like Chenle to me,” Jeno said. 

“No, no,” Jisung insisted. “There is something wrong with him!”

“Hey, man,” Mark greeted, walking up to Chenle. “You good?”

“Yes,” Chenle said in a monotonous voice.

“Uh…” Mark halted at the unfamiliar tone and exchanged a look with Jisung before continuing. “How was your night?”

“Good,” Chenle murmured, his eyes were on Mark but he wasn’t really looking at him. 

“Really? Uh, t-tell me more,” Mark insisted, trying to get some information. 

Chenle’s eyes squinted momentarily in confusion, not knowing how to answer.

“He doesn’t reply to open questions, ever since I found him in the restroom and dragged him out of the bar,” Jisung clarified. “You have to be specific. Watch this; Chenle, who is Y/N?”

“My mate,” Chenle replied without hesitation, his eyes lighting up for a second. 

“Woah! You found your mate?!” Mark almost screamed. “Congratulations!”

Haechan came back in that moment with a box full of enchanted objects ready to expel the devil from his friend’s body. “What?! Then he’s not possessed, Jisung! He’s probably just daydreaming!”

Jeno laughed and gave Chenle a friendly punch on the arm. “Congratulations!” he said before turning to Jisung and patting his head. “You got us worried for no reason, pup.”

“No, guys, you don’t understand,” Jisung insisted. “Listen to this: Chenle, did you mark Y/N?”

“I don’t want to mark her,” Chenle replied.”I don’t want to be with her.”

Jeno’s eyes widened, Mark’s eyebrows furrowed and Haechan, who was about to walk away with his exorcism kit, turned back, thinking that he may need to intervene after all.

“You don’t want to be with the person you imprinted on?” Haechan repeated.

“ I don’t want to be with her,” Chenle echoed.

“Those are the only full sentences he says,” Jisung whispered with urgency. “That, and that he wants to go home.”

“Well, you are home now,” Jeno informed, placing a gentle hand on Chenle’s shoulder.

Chenle let out a relieved exhale and collapsed on the floor with a loud thud like he had been waiting for that piece of information to shut down.

All four men looked at their passed-out friend in shock until Haechan broke the silence with urgent commands: “Jeno, Mark, hold him still!”

“What for?” Jeno asked, confused.

“I d-don’t think he’s going anywhere…” Mark said.

“Oh, you’re right, why don’t we just let Mr. Demon take their sweet time to consume Chenle’s soul? ” Haechan replied sarcastically. “JUST GRAB HIM!”

Mark and Jeno pinned Chenle’s arms and legs down hesitantly.

“Jisung, help me draw a pentagram around him,” Haechan instructed, handing Jisung a piece of chalk that he took with a trembling hand.

  Jaemin entered through the front door and stared blankly at the scene in front of him. “Is this another episode of ‘just boys being boys’?” he asked, still standing under the doorframe. 

Jeno, Mark, and Haechan exclaimed a bunch of incoherent answers, while Jisung continued sobbing and drawing a circle around Chenle, but somehow Jaemin got the idea and rushed toward Chenle.

“He fainted because he has a fever,” Jaemin sighed after taking his temperature and checking his pulse. “Very intense ruts can cause that. Didn’t you say he just imprinted on someone?”

“But he didn’t sound normal!” Jeno insisted. “He was speaking like he had no soul!”

“BECAUSE A DEMON TOOK IT!” Haechan yelled, making Jisung cry louder.

Jaemin rolled his eyes. “His brain was probably not working properly because of the fever. How many of you can have a normal conversation while in rut?”

The boys sat on the floor in silence, looking at Chenle and then at each other, embarrassed of the collective hysteria that took over them. Jisung was still hiccupping but he calmed down a little.

“He’s not possessed,” Jaemin declared, holding back a laugh. “Now put those candles away and go get him some suppressants and water.”

After that, Chenle’s rut was quite uneventful. Too uneventful.

Taeyong was the first to notice something was off, deciding to enter Chenle’s room after an entire day of not hearing any noise coming from the inside. 

Instead of being met with an incredibly horny and incoherent Chenle humping whatever he could find, he found him lying on the bed as he stared at the roof absentmindedly. 

He called the younger’s name twice. Then he grabbed his shoulders and shook him softly, but Chenle only let out a pathetic whine.

Typically, the best way to reduce the fever that comes with a rut is to get off, as a way to trick their wolf into thinking they were breeding. But Chenle wasn’t interested in getting relief, despite his visible erection. 

He was unresponsive, burning up, and not even trying to do something about it. 

“Chenle, this isn’t your first rut. You know what you gotta do to feel better,” Taeyong reminded him. 

Chenle turned around to lay on his side, looking away from his leader.

“I heard you met your mate. Y/N, wasn’t it?” Taeyong tried a different approach, smiling when Chenle tilted his head towards him slightly with interest. “What is she like?”

“S-she–,” Chenle’s voice was hoarse, so he cleared his throat before speaking again. “She’s perfect…”

Taeyong nodded. “Then what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Chenle replied curtly. 

“You don’t look like someone who just met the love of his life.”

“Why? Because I’m not behaving like a horndog?” Chenle spat angrily. “I have more class than that.”

“I see,” the leader replied, unimpressed. “Is that the reason you don’t want to mark her or even be with her? Not classy enough for you?”

Chenle groaned. “I just don’t want to! Why do I have to commit to someone I just met?!” he asked defensively. 

The truth was he did not understand why he kept repeating that. He could hear his wolf whimpering painfully in disagreement and his heart throbbing whenever he said he didn’t want to mark you, but for some reason, his brain kept telling him that’s what he wanted. The constant fight between his mind and his body made his head hurt, and his rut was making everything worse. Taeyong’s voice was fading away and his head hurt so much he felt like he would throw up. He couldn’t understand a word that was said to him and honestly, he didn’t want to understand right now. He just wanted to rest, but the room was so hot and it was getting hard to breathe.

He doesn’t know when he fell asleep, but when he woke up he felt less hot than before. As he opened his eyes slowly, he saw Doyoung hovering over him, gently rubbing his face and neck with a wet cloth.

“Hey,” the older one greeted. “How are you feeling?”

Chenle gulped and blinked a couple of times. He was still in pain but he could think a bit more clearly. He noticed he was wearing different clothes, so he assumed his previous clothes were probably drenched with sweat and his pack members had changed him into clean, dry ones.  “G-good.”

“We were going to take you to the hospital if your condition didn’t improve,” Doyoung said. “The entire pack is worried.”

“Sorry,” Chenle said. “I’m fine, it’s just my rut.”

Doyoung, always so perceptive, could tell that something was bothering Chenle, but when he opened his mouth to ask, an enthusiastic knock on the door interrupted him.

“It’s my turn to babysit the pup,” Yuta said energetically, entering the room.

“I don’t need–” Chenle sighed but was quickly cut off by Doyoung.

“Thanks, Yuta! I can’t miss this meeting so I really have to go. He needs to take some medicine at 4. Did you check the group chat? I texted–”

“Yeah, yeah,” Yuta replied, pushing Doyoung out the door. “Just go!” he exclaimed, closing the door and turning towards Chenle. 

Then Chenle heard him lock the door.

“What are you doing?” Chenle asked.

“Why aren’t you jerking off?” Yuta asked straight to the point, asking the question no one had dared to.

“I beg your pardon?” Chenle deadpanned, sitting up and glaring at the older. 

“Why aren’t you making it snow?” Yuta rephrased.

Chenle gave him a disgusted look. 

“You had no problem doing it during past ruts. So what was that about suddenly having too much class for that?” Yuta continued the interrogation.

Great. Taeyong had told everyone.

“I just don’t want to!” he insisted stubbornly. “I’m capable of making my own choices whether my wolf wants it or not.”

“If you won’t listen to your wolf, then at least listen to your body,” Yuta sighed. “The fever will keep coming back unless you take care of yourself.”

“A fever won’t kill me–”

“Doyoung didn’t sleep all night because of how worried he was.”

That shut Chenle up. He didn’t mean to cause trouble. He also wanted his rut to be over but for some reason, it felt wrong to touch himself to the thought of you. After all, you weren’t his. He didn’t want you to be his, right?

“You need to cum, Chenle,” Yuta said firmly.

“...I’m fine,” Chenle murmured, staring at his lap.

“I’ll get you off myself if you don’t.”

Chenle looked up, surprised and enraged. “Wha—,” he yelped, jumping off the bed when he saw Yuta walking towards him. “Hyung, what’s your fucking problem?!”

“You need to cum,” Yuta repeated.

Chenle gulped. “Y-you wouldn’t. You’re mated,” he reminded him.

Yuta nodded. “I already called my mate and asked her for permission. I explained that it was an emergency and I would only do it if you didn’t cooperate. She found it weird,  but in the end, she agreed as long as I only used my hand and never mentioned it again.”

Chenle’s eyes were wide with bewilderment. Yuta was not fucking around. He really was that guy who would help a bro out. “You’re crazy.”

“So I’ve heard,” Yuta conceded. “Now, get over here. The faster we do this, the faster your rut will be over,” he said while he rolled up his sleeves like he was about to perform some surgical procedure.

“NO!” Chenle exclaimed. “I’ll do it myself!”

Yuta raised his eyebrows expectantly. “Go on, then.”

They stared at each other in silence for a whole minute.

“Do you mind…,” Chenle asked vaguely, pointing at the door.

“Nah, I ain’t leaving until you do it.”

“Hyung,” Chenle spoke through gritted teeth. “I promise you I’ll do what I have to do, but please give me some privacy.”

Yuta seemed to think about it for a second and then he made his way to the door, unlocking it and opening it. As he was leaving he spoke again.“Just know that if I don’t hear any fapping sounds I’m coming back–”

“GET OUT!” Chenle yelled, throwing a pillow at the door which closed right in time.“He’s so weird,” he murmured to himself. 

“I heard that!” Yuta yelled from the other side of the door. “That’s not the sound I’m waiting for!”

Chenle groaned. He was incredibly embarrassed to have to touch himself while someone listened, but he knew Yuta wasn’t bluffing and that he wouldn’t leave until he did what he promised he would. 

He stood in the corner of the room that was the furthest from the door and hesitantly palmed himself over his pajama pants. Immediately his back arched and his eyes rolled back.

“F-fuck…” he whispered, pressing his palm against his erection harder. It felt so good to get some friction after holding out for so long.

Why was he avoiding this again?

No, what he was avoiding was not the pleasure itself, but thinking of you to feel said pleasure. He felt like he had no right.

‘No right?!’ huffed an incredulous voice in his head. ‘Who else would have that right if not me? She’s my mate–’

He shook his head and his hand stopped moving. You weren’t his. He didn’t want you to be his, right?

That’s what he had been telling everyone since he met you.

But why did he keep saying that? Why didn’t he want you?

He remembered the taste of your soft lips and his hand resumed its movement as he let out a shaky breath.

How could he not want those lips?

And the way you whimpered when his teeth grazed your neck? 

Oh, hell no. He definitely wanted you.

He pulled his pants down and thrust into his fist.

“Mm…Y/N–ah!” he moaned.

He remembered it now. You had told him that he didn’t want you…and he just went with it?

He let out a sound between a scoff and a laugh as he remembered the conversation. You had dared to tell him what he wanted?

Next time he saw you he would fuck that pretty mouth. That way you wouldn’t repeat such insolent words. 

He gasped, imagining you on your knees with those beautiful eyes glaring at him, full of defiance. 

 You were attracted to him. It was obvious. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have dragged him into the restroom and kissed him stupid. You only showed resistance when he straight-up told you he wanted to mark you.

Okay, maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say to someone he had just met, but Chenle never had been one to beat around the bush. He probably would have told you all that even if he hadn’t entered his rut. 

He wouldn’t let you go that easily next time.

You would be his.

“I want you…” he murmured like he was talking to you. “I want you,” he repeated, this time louder and more secure. “I want you, I want you, I want you—Oooh!” He gasped and his legs trembled as he reached his long-overdue orgasm and white liquid covered his hand. 

He continued stroking his cock lazily as he slid down the wall. 

That was the best orgasm he had ever had. And it had just been a quickie with his hand.

Oh God…he hoped Yuta had left already. He must have, because he couldn’t smell him anymore.

“Y/N,” he whispered. “I want you,” he declared, practicing what he would say next time he saw you. 

His head was clear now and he knew that he had to have you. Whatever possessed him to say he didn’t was gone. 

His hand sped up again, this time without a single ounce of guilt or hesitation, aiming to enjoy every sensation the thought of you was giving him and finishing his rut fast to go back to that damn bar.

And he did just that.

A couple of days later you were taking orders and preparing drinks as usual when a familiar ID card was slid toward you on the counter.

Chenle. 

You tried not to show your nervousness. After all, you had hypnotized him, so he surely wasn’t back for you. He probably just wanted a drink.

You cleared your throat and tried your best to avoid eye contact. “What can I get you?” you asked curtly.

“I want your number,” the familiar voice said.

You looked up, surprised. 

There he was, glaring at you with such intensity you just knew he had managed to escape your spell. In just two days.

“No,” you replied, trying to hide your agitation. 

“No?” he echoed.

“I’m not interested,” you half-lied. Were you interested in him? Yes. Were you interested in a commitment to life with him? No.

“You were interested when I offered to suck on your tits,” he reminded you, making a few people turn their heads in shock.

You were mortified.

“Y/N, Can you get some whiskey from the storage room?” Yeosang’s voice called as he stood in front of you. “I’ll be taking your order, sir.”

You nodded, mentally thanking Yeosang and making your way to the storage room, just to see Chenle trying to follow you by walking around the counter. 

“Sir,” Yeosang spoke harshly this time, as he positioned himself in front of Chenle again. “I said I would be taking your order.”

“I’m not done talking to her,” Chenle said.

“I think you are,” Yeosang replied with a polite smile, crossing his arms and displaying perfectly sculpted muscles.

Chenle didn’t work out as hard as some of his pack members and he had no experience fighting so he knew this guy would probably knock him out with a single hit. But his wolf kept telling him to fight this bartender guy who dared to hide his mate from him. 

“I just want to talk to her,” Chenle spoke through gritted teeth, trying his best to calm himself down.

“Do you want to talk to him?” Yeosang asked you.

You looked at Chenle and then at Yeosang, before sighing and giving Yeosang a short nod. 

“Fine. But over there, where I can see you,” Yeosang warned him, pointing at an empty table in a corner.

“Thank you,” Chenle mumbled before walking to where he was told to go and taking a seat to wait for you. He was a nervous wreck, but he would never admit to it.

“Here,” you said, placing a glass of water in front of him before sitting on the chair next to him. 

“Thanks,” he replied curtly and took a sip of water, trying to remember what he had come to say. It was hard to concentrate when you were looking at him with those captivating eyes.

You also drank some water to calm your nerves as anxious thoughts invaded you. Had he figured out what you had done? If so, you should probably apologize now that he seems to be open to dialogue.

“Sorry,” you both said at the same time.

Both of you seemed surprised at what they heard from the other.

“Uh…,” you stuttered trying to figure out how to continue from there.

“Sorry, did you want to–...” Chenle vaguely gestured for you to speak first.

“No! You first,” you urged.

“Okay, uh…,” he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry if I scared you the other day.”

“...Scare me?” you echoed.

He nodded.

“That whole biting thing and the things I said…I won’t lie and say I didn’t mean them. I meant every single word. But I understand that’s not how normal conversations go when you just meet someone. I got carried away.”

You nodded too.

“I would like to start over if you’re okay with that,” he offered hopefully. “We don’t have to do anything like that night. We can just…talk and get to know each other.”

You took another sip of your drink while Chenle waited for your answer.

“I don’t think so,” you finally said, looking away when you saw Chenle’s eyes widen in distress. “I don’t date.”

“You d-don’t…,” Chenle repeated dumbly. “What?! Like at all?!”

You shrugged. “It’s not my thing.”

“Then what did you want from me that night?! A quick fuck?!”

“Yes. Exactly,” you admitted. “You thought you could find a wholesome relationship at a bar? How cute,” you teased him.

“It wouldn’t have mattered where I met you. I would have wanted you regardless,” he replied assertively.

“Mm, thanks,” you replied casually like your heart didn’t beat faster at his words. “But my answer’s still no.”

Chenle froze. What did you mean no? That was ridiculous! How would a wolf survive after being rejected by their mate?!

“We don’t have to call it dating,” he quickly said when he saw you standing up to leave.

You hesitated and looked at Chenle.

“What would you call it, then?” you asked him just out of curiosity, sitting down again. You wouldn’t change your mind regardless.

“Whatever you want,” he bargained, trying to look uninterested when he was actually desperate.

“Whatever I want,” you hummed. “So you’re okay with being fuckbuddies?” 

He was conflicted. He didn’t want that exactly, but if that was his only hope to win you over, he would take it. He would take anything as long as you didn’t cut him off completely. 

“Yes,” he spoke through gritted teeth.

“Hmm.. I don’t know,” you teased him a little more. He was just so cute when he was annoyed. “You’re not really my type.”

He poked his tongue on his cheek. “Why not?”

“You’re not very tall–”

“I’m not short either.”

“You're too impulsive.”

“Says the one who dragged me to the restroom.”

“And you’re younger than me.”

Chenle opened his mouth to speak and then he closed it again. He never told you his age–Oh, right, his ID! 

“So what?” he asked.

“You won’t even ask how old I am?” you taunted him.

“Doesn’t matter. I bet you’re barely a couple of years older. And I would want you even if you were 10 years older. I don’t care.”

“But I care,” you lied.

He leaned closer to you. “Bullshit,” he laughed. Sounding confident for the first time in the conversation. “You knew my age that night when you had me pressed against the restroom wall.”

Your smirk dropped. 

“You were moaning and humping my leg like you couldn’t get enough of me, but now I’m not your type?” he mocked. “I like that you’re playing hard to get. It’s cute,” he admitted. “Now can you drop the act and let me ruin you?”

You gulped.

“What makes you so sure that’s what I want?”

“Oh, please. Your pupils dilated when I said that,” he scoffed. “But what really gave you away was how wet you got as soon as you heard my voice. I can smell it, you know?”

You bit your lip and glared at him. “How do you know it wasn’t because of someone else?”

“Because the scent gets stronger whenever I speak,” he said hoarsely, making you shiver. “I have never met someone so…sensitive to sounds,” he purred, dangerously close to your ear.

 You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes back in bliss. Sirens were indeed sensitive to sound and just like they used their voice to tempt their prey, they felt attracted to melodic voices too.

“It’s not bad, I guess,” you admitted.

“I like your voice too,” Chenle said. “Would love to hear you screaming, though.”

You inhaled sharply.

Chenle smirked triumphantly. Admittedly, he had come to see you to ask you out romantically, not sexually. But this approach seemed to work better with you and he was getting turned on too. “Let’s get out of here,” his sultry voice suggested and by your scent, he knew he had won.

“You’ll have to wait until closing hours,” you said, trying to act coyly even though your legs visibly shook when you stood up. “If you wanna wait here then you have to order something.”

“I’ll get a glass of whichever your favorite liquor is.”

Smooth. He was quite confident now that he was sure you liked him back.

“I only drink luxurious brands,” you lied, trying to intimidate him. “Can you afford it?”

Chenle handed you a black card and chuckled when you gasped. 

“I think I’ll survive,” he said. “By the way, what did you want to apologize for?” He asked, remembering how the whole conversation had started.

“O-oh, just for…leaving you alone in the restroom that night,” you lied. “I’ll go get your drink,” you added and left before he had the chance to reply

“You okay?” Yeosang asked when you went back to the bar counter. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You guys looked close,” he commented teasingly. “Are you sure he’s not your mate?”

“I told you it’s not like that.”

Yeosang shrugged. “You looked tired and kind of pale these last two days but now you suddenly look like you slept 12 hours and had a four-course meal.”

“You’re seeing things, Sangie,” you laughed nervously. 

“Hm… and you haven’t been feeling a tingle on your fingertips right?” Yeosang asked casually.

You almost dropped the glass you were holding. Your fingertips had started tingling the day before for no apparent reason so you had assumed you had an allergic reaction to something.

“Why do you ask?” You inquired.

“It’s one of the signs of siren imprinting,” he replied distractedly as he handed a drink to a customer.

“Why didn’t you mention it when I asked you the other night?!” You asked him urgently.

“I forgot,” he said simply.

“Any other symptoms I should be aware of?” You asked in an irritated tone.

“You said you were sure you weren’t mates, so I don’t think so.”

“Okay, but what if we were mates? What else would I need to know?” You insisted. “Hypothetically,” you added when he gave you an inquisitive look.

“Well, I guess hypothetically, you should be aware that for sirens pleasure is very important and that orgasms strengthen the bond,” he commented. “Once your mate makes you orgasm then you’ll be tied to him forever,” he said.

You scoffed. “So I would belong to any man who makes me cum? That’s ridiculous! I’ve never felt that way after sex.”

“Because none of them was your mate. None of them made your fingers tingle in a funny way, or  feel energized as soon as you saw them, or made you feel like you would explode if you didn’t kiss them—“

“Chenle doesn’t make me feel like that either!” You lied, feeling called out.

“Then you have nothing to worry about, right?” he agreed. “This is all hypothetical.”

“But, hypothetically, if Chenle and I were mates and I wanted to…hang out with him…”

“Hang out as in…having sex?” Yeosang clarified.

“Uh,y-yes,” you replied. “Let’s say I want to have sex with him but I don’t want to consummate the bond. How should I do it?”

“Pleasure, especially orgasms, are what seal the bond between mates. If Chenle is your mate and you want to fool around with him but you don’t want to be tied to him, then all you gotta do is make sure he doesn’t make you cum,” he explained like he had a PhD in this stuff. 

You looked at him, dumbfounded. “I don’t get to feel good?”

“You can if you’re willing to accept him as your forever mate,” he shrugged. “Hypothetically,” he added mockingly. 

He always knew when you were lying, so he was sure you were crazy about Chenle even if you denied it. 

You sighed. “Fuck…”

“Y/N, would it really be that bad?” Yeosang sighed too, trying to understand why you were so against the idea of being in a romantic relationship. “You imprinted on him, and he imprinted on you too. Why not accept and enjoy it?”

“And being stuck in a boring town with a stupid mutt as a companion for the rest of my life?” you hissed. “Sangie, you know me! I can’t stay in one place or be with one person! I’m a free spirit!”

“Then don’t get involved with someone who clearly is serious about you?” Yeosang offered, confused at your dilemma. 

“But I want him so bad!” you whined.

“Then go get him?”

“But I don’t want him forever.”

Yeosang clicked his tongue, expressing disapproval. “You’re so selfish sometimes…”

“I’m literally just a girl,” you countered. “I’m allowed to have fun–Oh, that’s right! I can just stop before I cum, right?” you gasped, excited at the discovery of a loophole.

Yeosang didn’t reply. He shook his head in disbelief and went back to preparing drinks. 

You were too excited to worry about his criticism. Taking orders and stealing glances at Chenle who wouldn’t look away from you during your entire shift. He waited patiently for you to finish working but the anticipation was killing him, and when you finally approached him after cleaning your workstation, he grabbed your hand and took you out of the bar in a hurry, observed by a very conflicted Yeosang. 

Considering he had a black card, you weren’t surprised when you found yourself sitting in a luxurious car that screamed rich. You knew nothing about cars, yet you knew this one was expensive. This guy was a big deal.

“Are you even allowed to drive, pup?” you teased him when he sat in the driver’s seat. It was a dumb question, just aiming to make him feel smaller as a way to gain back your power.

“Put on your seat belt,” he commanded, ignoring your question.

“Ah, I guess you’re still a learner driver,” you said, chuckling. “It’s okay, don’t be embarrassed.”

Before you could blink he was hovering over you, looking into your eyes sternly. 

“Do you have any idea of how hard it is to focus on driving when you’re soaked sitting next to me?” he asked slowly, threateningly. “I’m suffocating on your scent, so sorry if I want to keep you safe while I speed to get us somewhere private.”

Blank.

You couldn’t think of anything to say.

No smart comebacks. No teasing. 

You were sure all that would leave your mouth right now was a pathetic moan, so you opted to keep quiet. 

That seemed to please Chenle. 

“Good girl,” you heard him whisper before a clicking sound told you he had successfully fastened your seat belt. 

He accommodated himself and put on his seat belt before starting the car and driving in complete silence. He was gripping the steering wheel with so much strength that his knuckles were turning white. His jaw was tense and he kept his eyes strictly on the road because he knew if he looked at you he would stop the car and take you right there.

You didn’t say anything either. Aroused yet annoyed at the power he effortlessly held over you. You would find a way to gain control again soon.

When the car stopped, Chenle quickly got off and walked around the vehicle to open the door for you. 

“What a gentleman,” you cooed, back in the game, allowing him to help you out of the car.

“Not for long,” he spoke under his breath, once again taking your hand to drag you into the fanciest hotel you had ever seen. 

You tried not to let it show that you were impressed.

 “I guess your place wasn’t good enough to take me there…,” you taunted once you reached the elevator and he pressed the button with the highest number on it.

“My place is too crowded. But we can go there if you don’t mind the entire pack listening,” he commented, still holding your hand firmly. 

“Like you could make me moan,” you scoffed. 

Chenle huffed. He was so ready to fuck that attitude out of you. “We’re about to find out,” he said, guiding you out of the elevator and into the room he had booked.

You couldn’t help your gasp.

“Is this the presidential suite–?” you turned to ask but were interrupted by Chenle kissing you hotly, pressing your back against the door you had just entered through.

The kiss was wet, unpractised,  desperate. He tasted like liquor and his skill wasn’t perfect, yet it was somehow the best kiss you’d ever had. The lack of air in your lungs and the way his hands held your waist with his hips pressed against yours firmly, made you feel deliciously dizzy and craving for more.

You let out a broken moan and Chenle chuckled. 

“You said I’m not your type and that I can’t make you moan, huh? ” he whispered, pressing his hips harder against yours and making you whine. “I haven’t even done anything, yet you’re enjoying yourself so much,” he cooed, licking your earlobe.

You shivered. “S-shut up–”

“Look at you, so precious,” he continued, moving his hips in a circular motion that had you closing your eyes and moaning louder. “Are you gonna cum just from this?”

Your eyes snapped open in realization and you pushed him away abruptly, almost making him fall on the floor. 

He looked at you with wide eyes, confused and worried. “What? Was I too rough?” he asked. 

You exhaled shakily and tried to regain some composure. If what Yeosang said was true, then you absolutely couldn’t cum. Not by Chenle’s doing. You were going to have some fun with him, make out, and maybe torment him a little bit, but you wouldn’t let him get you off. 

“Did you bring me here to hump me and cum in your pants? What was I expecting from a dumb pup,” you sighed, feigning disappointment. 

He squinted his eyes and clenched his fist.

“I’m feeling charitable today, so I’ll offer you a deal,” you said, smiling sweetly and walking towards the master bedroom, with Chenle tailing you. “I’ll get you off and then you’ll drive me home,” you declared, sitting on the huge bed.

“Get me off?” he repeated dumbly, standing in front of you. “What about you?”

“You think you can get me off?” you sneered. 

“I was about to before you pushed me away,” he growled.

“Please, that was not me about to cum,” you lied. “It’s just a little act us women put on to make guys feel good.”

“I’m sure you were about to–” he insisted.

“Yeah? Do you think you know my body better than me? Why would I have stopped you if I was feeling that good?”

Chenle blinked a couple of times, processing that maybe he had read your body language wrong and disappointed you. He wasn’t crazy experienced, but the few lovers he had had hadn’t complained. Surely he couldn’t be that bad…

Or could he?

Oh no…You had agreed to meet with him only for sex and he couldn’t even do that, right? Fuck, he couldn’t lose you now. He would do anything.

“Let me try again,” he proposed, climbing on the bed and trying to kiss you, but you turned away.

“If you’re not going to follow my rules, I’m leaving,” you threatened.

His eye twitched. He wanted to spank you until your ass turned red and pound you on the bed until you behaved. He wasn’t one to take orders. But he wanted to do things right with you. Now that he was thinking somewhat clearly, he wanted you to be with him willingly, instead of biting you and forcing you into a relationship. He wanted you to want him. And if that meant he had to lower his head for now and re-learn all he knew about sex, then so be it.

“What do you want me to do?” he finally asked. 

“Just be a good pup and take your pants off for me, will you?” you asked and giggled. That little giggle that drove Chenle crazy.

He cringed at the pet name but he did as he was told, standing up and unbuckling his belt. You loved your men obedient, but even if his actions were compliant, his eyes failed to hide his obstinate nature. Anyone could tell he wasn’t used to submitting to anyone.

You smirked, willing yourself to pester him with some other brazen comment when the sound of his belt and pants hitting the floor brought your attention toward his barely covered center. 

Shocking. Scandalous. Massive.

The pair of gray boxers could barely contain what was in there. 

You had seen big before, but not this big. 

“What now?” Chenle deadpanned. He wasn’t loving this situation.

“What now?” you laughed, swallowing back the saliva that pooled in your mouth when you were daydreaming about his cock. “There’s already a stain of precum on your underwear. I think you could cum without me doing anything at all.”

Chenle sighed, frustrated. “Look, if you don’t want to do this–”

“Come closer,” you commanded.

Chenle bit his lower lip. He wanted to say so many things, but he controlled himself and walked until he was mere centimeters away from you. 

Ignoring his blazing glare, you hooked your index fingers on the elastic of his boxers and lowered them lazily, hearing his breath stutter. 

There it was. Hard, thick, and huge right in front of your face. 

You hoped Chenle hadn’t noticed your thighs rubbing, or that he magically couldn’t smell your wetness, but when you looked up at him his eyes were glimmering with mischief. He had noticed alright.

Before he could say anything smart, you blew the reddened tip of his cock, making him groan. You gave him a sickeningly sweet smile. “You okay, pup?”

He glared at you, gulping audibly, and gave you a short nod.

“If it’s too much for you,” you purred, tracing the length softly with your fingernails and making him shiver. “We can stop, you know?”

He shook his head. “N-no.”

 You laughed, finally circling him with your fist and giving him a firm tug that made him groan. When you built up a steady rhythm, his knees buckled and his hands quickly landed on your shoulders to avoid completely collapsing. 

Noticing how difficult it was for him to stand while being so overwhelmed with pleasure you stopped your caress to make him an offering. “Climb here,” you instructed, patting at your lap. 

Chenle, who had gasped dramatically at the sudden lack of stimulation, looked at you like you were crazy. 

“You don’t wanna sit on mommy’s lap, pup?” you faked a pout, sitting further back on the bed to make more space for him.

“I’m not a fucking pup!” he snapped. He had tried to be good, but you were stepping over the line. “I’m not a fucking virgin either so stop treating me like one and I don’t care if you’re older than me I’m not calling you mommy.”

You glared at him, unamused. You could just threaten to leave, but seeing how annoyed he was, he would probably let you. And that wasn’t the plan. You still wanted to have some more fun. 

“What a shame,” you sighed, parting your legs just enough for him to catch a whiff of your arousal. “I was getting excited…”

Chenle forgot immediately about his anger, keeping his eyes on your hands that were slowly pulling your skirt up your thighs. 

“Thought that maybe you could make me feel good,” you pouted. “ But I guess I was wrong.”

Chenle shook his head and climbed on the bed. “No, no, I can,” he whispered, pecking your lips. “I’ll make you feel good, ” he promised.

You bit back a smirk, which soon turned into a yelp when Chenle pushed you so you lay flat on your back with him on top of you and slid his hand under your skirt and right into your panties. “C-chenle!”

“Yes,” he whispered against your lips, drunk on your scent. “Yes, I’m here. I’m here for you.” 

“O-oh!” you moaned when his index went straight for your clit and stroked it skillfully. “Oh my g-god–Chenle wait a min–Mmm!”

He hummed in delight. The sounds you made were so beautiful. 

“I’ll make it good this time, okay?” he panted, stroking you faster and making your back arch. “I’ll make you cum for sure,” he guaranteed.

“P-pup, slow down, m´kay? Aah… s-slow…I–fuck…I said I w-wanted to get y-you off, remember?”

“That’s because you think I can’t do the same for you,” he protested. “But I’ll show you I can.” 

Fuck, he was determined. If he was just a random hookup you would appreciate it, but right now that was the last thing you wanted.

“H-hey, Chenle–aah…” you called for him, grabbing the wrist of his hand that was working hard to make you see heaven. “I can’t come j-just like th-aah…” you spoke shakily, trying to discourage him. “Y-you can try a–haa– again n-next time–”

Chenle kissed your lips and hushed you. “You’re close,” he assured you, and he wasn’t wrong. You could feel your toes curling and your abdomen tensing.

It was about to snap.

Oh no. No, no.

You didn’t want to do this to him again, but…

“C-chenle, listen to me,” you caught his attention by grabbing his face with both your hands. “You don’t really want to g-get me off,” you told him, using that alluring voice that always got you what you wanted. 

His movements slowed down. “What are you talking about?” he whispered incredulously. 

“You just want me to m-make you cum and then you’ll be satisfied,” you said like you were reminding him of something he had forgotten, silly him. 

His fingers stilled on your pulsating clit and he seemed lost, like he had no idea what to do with himself now.

“You only want to sleep with me, no strings attached, remember?” you breathed out, relieved that the pleasure was fading away.

“Yes, I…I remember,” he muttered. 

“And we agreed that we would do things my way,” you informed him.

“We did,” he agreed.

“Good pup,” you sighed, pulling his hand out of your panties. “I’ll take care of you, okay?”

He looked at you with furrowed brows. He felt so weird. What you said made sense, but why did it feel wrong?

You bit your lip when you saw a dash of hesitation in his eyes. How come he was so resistant to your hypnosis?  You had to make him stop thinking.

“Relax,” you told him, caressing his still-clothed shoulders, arms, and stomach.

“Somethings’s wrong,” he admitted.

“Nothing’s wrong.” you purred, reaching his member and resuming your touch.

He moaned and almost collapsed on top of you. “Y-Y/N…”

“Relax,” you repeated.

“I…Ooh– I f-feel… like s-something’s missin–ah… ah, ah–Mmm…,” he spoke incoherently, thrusting into your fist.

“Mm? What could be missing?”

“Y/N–”

“Doesn’t it feel good?”

“ ‘S good– so fucking g–Ooooh…” he whined.

“Are you gonna cum for me?” you asked.

“Haa… gonna– y-yeah, ah…,” 

“Then cum,” you encouraged.

He hid his face in the crook of your neck and came with a choked moan, convulsing on top of you and spilling all over your hand. 

You had to use a massive amount of self-control to avoid cumming at the sight. He sounded and looked beautiful, and even the tiny aftershocks that made his body convulse were kind of cute.

You don’t know what took over you when one of your hands started playing with his hair like you would with a lover. He hummed contently nuzzling your neck.

“My mate,” he murmured sweetly, placing a gentle kiss on your collarbone. 

You froze. That wasn’t very ‘no strings attached’ of him.

“Alright, get dressed,” you instructed, pushing him off you and getting off the bed. “Time to drive me home.”

He looked so vulnerable, naked from the waist down, displaying his spent cock covered in clear liquid, and his face flushed red while he looked at you like a kicked puppy. He opened his mouth to say something, but he closed it again. The feeling that something was off came back but he had no idea what it was.

In the end, he sighed and did as he was told. For some reason, he didn’t feel satisfied at all and he kept overthinking even when he got home.

He didn’t know what to tell everyone when they cornered in the kitchen the next morning.

“You said you would keep me updated so I had my phone with me at all times,” whined Jisung, following Chenle to the table. “But you didn’t text me once! 

“Jisungie was about to go find you,” Renjun sighed. “I told him that if you didn’t text him it was because you were probably busy.”

“I text you guys even if I’m busy!” Jisung complained.

“Really? Do you text us even when you’re balls deep in your girlfriend?” Haechan asked nonchalantly, making Jisung gasp, Mark choke on his cereal and earning a glare from Renjun.

“Language!” Kun warned from the sofa, without looking up from his book. He had arrived from one of his trips a few days ago and he was not impressed by how much the pack’s manners had worsened. 

“Sorry,” Haechan said even though everyone knew he wasn’t sorry.

“Is t-that what you were…” Jisung tried to ask Chenle, blushing and stuttering.

“What?” Asked Chenle, munching on his sandwich.

“Were you… balls deep in Y/N?” Jisung asked shyly, waiting for Kun to reprimand him. But no nagging came. Kun was as silent as the rest of the guys, waiting for Chenle’s answer.

Chenle groaned. “Do you have to say it like that?”

“So you were!” Haechan accused, getting ready to celebrate another successful love story in the pack.

“No!” Chenle groaned. “I was with her, but we didn’t get that far.”

“How far did you get?” Haechan asked.

“You don’t have to answer that,” Renjun said.

But Chenle knew they would pester him until he spilled the tea.

“We talked and we made a deal,” He said, omitting that you had completely dominated him.

“What type of deal?” Mark asked.

He was hoping Renjun told him he didn’t have to answer this one either, but Renjun seemed curious too.

“We agreed to get to know each other physically, for now,” he grumbled.

Everyone’s smiles dropped.

“You mean like sex stuff?” Mark asked awkwardly.

“Yes.”

“But not dating?” Renjun asked, exchanging worried looks with the others.

“…No, we uh—we don’t call it dating.”

“What do you call it, then?” Haechan asked. Even he had stopped eating.

“We’re fuckbuddies…”

Renjun, Mark, Haechand, and Jisung didn’t know if that was good or bad news. 

On the negative side, it could mean that Chenle’s mate didn’t take him seriously and didn’t want a relationship with him.

In a more positive light, she hadn’t completely rejected him.

“That’s great!” Haechan decided it was good news. “It means she’s attracted to you.”

“Yeah,” Mark agreed. “And it can grow into something more as time goes by.”

Renjun remained silent. He wasn’t that optimistic.

“So..” Jisung finally spoke. “You’re sleeping together but you’re not… together?”

Chenle shrugged. “Yeah, we don’t need labels. It’s whatever.”

“Are you sure that’s okay?” Jisung asked.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Chenle asked, feigning indifference. “I’ve never been a relationship person.”

“But she’s your mate,” Jisung insisted, while the others observed quietly.

“So?”

“Doesn’t she make you want to be a relationship person?!” Jisung asked exasperatedly. 

“We’re fine,” Chenle sighed. “She doesn’t want to date anyone anyways,” he murmured.

Kun’s laugh startled everyone and annoyed the fuck out of Chenle. 

“What’s so funny, gege? He asked.

“You really know nothing about women,” Kun said, grabbing a chair and joining them on the table.

Chenle glared at him. He wanted to tell him that he knew what he needed to know… but he remembered the humiliation of not knowing how to make you feel good and you looking down on him as a sexual partner and he decided that maybe it wouldn’t hurt to hear Kun’s words. “What is it that I don’t know?”

“Have you never watched (500) Days of Summer?” Kun asked.

“OH! I know that one! There’s this girl with really big eyes, right?” Mark replied and Haechan and Jisung started guessing and mispronouncing the name of the actress.

“Does the girl end up  with the main guy?” Kun’s voice interrupted their animated conversation.

“No,” Renjun sighed. This was exactly what he was worried about and he was glad Kun thought the same.

“What’s that stupid movie have to do with me?” Chenle asked.

“Every woman wants a relationship eventually, but they don’t give themselves to just anyone,” Kun explained, not shying away from Chenle’s furious eyes. “If she doesn’t want a relationship it’s because she hasn’t met anyone worth being in a relationship with.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Chenle growled.

“She doesn’t see you as a potential partner, so she’ll have fun with you until the man of her dreams steals her away.”

Chenle stood up abruptly, not caring about his elder talking, his half-eaten sandwich, and his friends’ worried eyes. He walked out of the house and slammed the door behind him.

“I didn’t really understand the movie,” Jisung admitted. 

But even he knew that his best friend was in some deep shit.

 Hoping to calm down, Chenle went to the beach for a walk. He needed some fresh air and time to think. And the smell of the ocean reminded him of you, so it helped him lower his anxiety.

He wasn’t just annoyed at what Kun said, but at what he himself kept saying. 

Why did he say what you two had was whatever?

Why did he keep saying he didn’t want a relationship with you? Why didn’t he want it?!

What type of werewolf doesn’t want to commit to his mate?

Younger him would have loved the idea of a hot older woman getting him off without wanting anything in return. It was every teenager’s fantasy.

But he wasn’t a teenager anymore and you weren’t a fantasy. You were the real deal; the woman he was destined to spend the rest of his life with.

He sat on the sand, feeling defeated and tried to collect his thoughts to figure out where this whole ‘I don’t wanna date Y/N’ thing came from.

First,, he met you at the bar and he made it very clear he wanted to mark you and even marry you.

Then you told him that’s not what he actually wanted and he agreed.

During his rut, he came to his senses and decided to ask you out properly.

He did ask you out. You said no, but you were open to casual sex with him.

He didn’t want just sex with you, but he thought that was the only way to spend time with you so he agreed.

You made out and then you pushed him away and told him he couldn’t please you.

You told him he only wanted to get off and nothing else.

He agreed.

Why did he agree?! Why didn’t he make you cum too?!

“What the fuck’s wrong with me?” he groaned.

“What the fuck’s wrong with you?” You asked Yeosang.

“Nothing,” he replied calmly.

“You sound like you’re mad at me.”

“I’m not mad. I’m disappointed,” he clarified.

You groaned. “I told him I didn’t want a relationship and he agreed.”

“Did he?” He challenged. “Or did you use your siren voice to convince him?”

You looked away.

“That’s not fair Y/N,” he murmured.

“He agreed before I bewitched him,” you defended yourself.

“Then why did you even have to bewitch him?” He asked, knitting his brows.

“I uh… didn’twannacum,” you barely whispered.

“Huh?”

You licked your lips in annoyance. “To make sure he didn’t make me cum,” you repeated, louder.

Yeosang’s jaw hung open. “Unbelievable.”

“He’s fine,” you rolled your eyes and finished whipping the counter. “I made sure he finished—“

“I’m done,” Yeosang interrupted you. “I don’t wanna talk to you until you understand what the problem is,” he spoke firmly and walked away from you to take a customer’s order.

Your heart broke. In the four years you had known each other Yeosang had never been mad at you. 

You knew he was right. You shouldn’t have done that to Chenle…but you had never liked someone this much. He drove you insane with a desire that was somewhere between sexual and domestic. And that terrified you.

You loved working and traveling on the ship and you didn’t want anything to change. But would it really be that bad to enjoy your time in this town? Once the bar moved to its next destination you wouldn’t see Chenle again and you and Yeosang would go back to normal.

Everything was fine.

After a few nights, you texted Chenle to ask him to meet up after your shift, which he immediately agreed to, picking you up and taking you to the same luxurious room he had booked last time. In a matter of seconds, you had him sitting on the bed half-naked, with you on your knees in front of him, taking as much of his cock as you could in your mouth.

Chenle was taken aback, but once again, he let you do what you wanted. He was hoping that this time he would make you feel good too, and if he was lucky you would stay the night and he would wake up to your sleepy face–

“Fuck,” he hissed when you circled the tip with your tongue, spreading his legs wider. 

You looked up at him and regretted it immediately because the view almost made you cum untouched. He was biting his lip to repress the moans and his eyes were half-lidded, and you thought no one could possibly look this hot.

You closed your eyes to avoid the arousing visual stimulation and focused on his taste only, which was weirdly addicting and made you salivate so much that the blowjob became even sloppier.

“Y/N…” he sighed. “I’m not g-gona last…”

You ignored him and bobbed your head faster. The plan was for him to not last. Not that you wanted this to end fast because you didn’t enjoy it, but because you wanted to get off soon, and for that, you had to go home while memories of Chenle were still fresh to pleasure yourself. 

“Ooh fu–,” Chenle moaned. “Okay, f-fine, I got it– We’ll do it your w-way but,” he gulped and paused to take a deep breath and regain some self-control. “I get to make you feel good too–aaah!” 

You chose that exact moment to deep-throat him.

“Haa…Y/N, fuck, fuck fuuuck,” he whined, daring to place his hands on your head and caress your hair. “Imma….Imma eat y-you out real good after this-Oh!” he lost his train of thought when you choked around him and he came in your mouth as you sucked him dry.

He let out one last broken moan when you released his member. He was panting and looking at you like you were a miracle.

“My turn,” he said darkly, pulling your arm until he had you sitting on his lap, kissing your face and neck all over while he unbuttoned your blouse. 

“I–,” you stuttered. “I’m actually k-kinda tired.”

“Tired?” Chenle stopped his kisses and touches and looked at you in surprise before quickly collecting himself. “That’s okay, you don’t have to do anything. I’ll take care of you,” he promised as he finished opening your blouse.

You pulled away, with your blouse completely open, and looked down at a very confused Chenle.

“I’m not really in the mood anymore,” you shrugged and his mouth fell open in shock.

“A-are you sure? Because your scent–”

“Pretty sure. I’ll call a taxi,” you said, grabbing your phone.

“N-no, I’ll…I’ll drive you,” a very defeated Chenle said, slowly getting up and getting dressed. 

Admittedly, you had made him feel very good. Hell, that was better than good, it was mind blowing. But he just couldn’t be satisfied if he was the only one who got to feel good. 

He could smell how aroused you were, and sometimes he felt like he could taste how close you were to cumming. Yet he never had the chance to make it happen. He was afraid that if he didn’t fulfill his duty as a fuckbuddy you would end things real fast.

So he kept showing up whenever you called and doing whatever you wanted for about a month, only to be dismissed whenever he felt like he had you. 

One night he had been particularly lucky; you had him completely naked, on his back, with you wearing only your bra, straddling him and letting him slide just the tip into the most delectable warmth known to him. 

“You’re s-so good,” he muttered, fixated on the way the tip of his cock disappeared inside of you. “So good…” he repeated.

“Yeah? You like it?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady. You were more affected than you wanted to admit and you were playing a dangerous game because you had never been this close to cumming during your previous encounters with him. You should stop now and use your hand or mouth like you usually did, but he was stretching you so good.

“I love it,” he groaned, arching his back and licking his lips. “I love you,” he breathed out.

You moaned. For the first time in weeks you moaned.

He had just said he loved you. Three words you didn’t need in this type of relationship but that somehow brought a wave of pleasure to your body and made you lose strength and accidentally go lower, him sinking deeper in you.

Chenle watched in awe how you took more of him and he grasped your hips desperately. 

You looked at each other with wide eyes as you tried to catch your breath.

But this time Chenle reacted faster than you did, snapping his hips up and making your vision go blurry.

Before you had time to recover he did it again. And then again, and again until he had you bouncing on his lap.

“C–Chenle, let m-me…,” you moaned, placing your hands on his lower abdomen to stop him from thrusting up. “Let m-me do it, pup,” you offered, knowing that if he kept it up you would cum soon.

He stared back at you, disobediently, and since you weren’t letting him push his hips up freely, he brought you down, hitting a spot that had you gasping for air.

“Shh…I–I got it,” he spoke through gritted teeth, speeding up and trying to hold back his own orgasm to pleasure you.

Your body tensed in his firm grasp and the volume of your angelic moans escalated.

 A sense of pride filled his chest.

He was making his mate feel good.

He was finally going to make you cum.

“Yes, yes, come on, c-come on, come on,” he muttered urgently.

“NO!” you yelled. “STOP!”

He hesitated momentarily and it was enough for you to break free and run to the bathroom, leaving poor, flustered Chenle on the bed alone.

You entered the bathroom and locked the door behind you, leaning against the door and taking deep breaths to calm down, but the tingling feeling in your center was urgent. You normally waited until you got home to touch yourself after meeting up with Chenle, but your orgasm was right there. You just couldn’t wait.

So you didn’t.

You held your breath and inserted a finger inside of you, trying to get yourself off before Chenle came looking for you–

“Y/N?” 

Fuck.

“Y/N, are you okay?” he asked from the other side of the door.

“Mmhm, a-all good,” you said quickly, working yourself faster.

“Can you open the door?” he asked worriedly.

“J-just give me a minute,” you spoke a little out of breath and bit your lip to catch any lewd sound that could give you away.

You didn’t hear him say anything else for  a few seconds, but then the door handle shook hastily. He was trying to enter.

“Just a m-minute!” you repeated, closing your eyes at the incoming climax.

“What are you doing?” He growled from the other side, struggling with the handle.

A few whimpers escaped you when your thumb grazed your clit and he banged on the door loudly.

“Open the door!” he commanded. “Y/N I swear to god if you’re doing what I think you’re doing—”

You came with a shaky moan. It wasn’t scandalously loud, but he heard it for sure.

The door you were leaning on opened abruptly and you fell in the same arms that had you shaking earlier. When you looked up you were met with his livid eyes.

He turned you around hastily and brought the hand you had used to pleasure yourself to his face, easily seeing the sticky liquid spread on your fingers. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” he yelled

You were petrified, trying to come up with an excuse for your behavior. Nothing you could possibly say would make sense.

“I was so close to making you come but you ran away just so you could finish yourself in the bathroom?!”

You sighed. “I’ll help you finish now–”

“You think that’s what’s bothering me?!”

“Then what’s bothering you?” you asked dismissively. “Can’t a woman make herself feel good?”

“Of course you can! When you have no one to take care of you–” he let out a frustrated groan. “What I mean is that I’m right here, and I’m dying to make you feel good, but whenever I think I’m doing a good job you run away and take it away from me!”

“Maybe you’re not doing as much of a good job as you think,” you lied.

“Then teach me!” he basically implored. “Tell me what you like for once instead of making me cum as fast as you can and leaving.”

“Chenle,” you spoke more gently, making him look at you, and once again using that voice. “Trust me, you’re getting so much better. Just a few more nights and you’ll have enough experience to be allowed to touch me,” you offered.

His expression became softer, but he still looked hesitant, as he always did whenever you used your powers on him. 

“I can’t let just anyone touch me,” you continued. “You have to earn it, don’t you think?”

“...Earn it?” he echoed, dismally.

“And you’re almost there, pup. But you have to keep doing as I say, okay?”

He nodded slowly and automatically. “Okay…”

“Good pup,” you praised him, caressing his hip. “Now, we can continue–”

“Actually,” he interrupted, gently pushing your hands away. “I’m kinda tired. Can we call it a night?”

You opened your mouth dumbly. “I…uh–Sure…”

“Thanks,” he murmured. “I’ll drive you home after I take a shower, okay?”

“Okay…,” you agreed, watching him go into the bathroom and close the door.

You tried not to think too much about it, but for the next couple of days, it killed you to think that maybe he was getting bored of you. But how could it be? Didn’t he say he imprinted on you?

You didn’t want to commit to him, but you also didn’t want him to move on from you. 

So when you received a message from Chenle asking if you had some time to hang out you typed your answer so fast anyone who saw you would know you were desperate.

Oh, how the tables had turned.

He picked you up and took you to the hotel as usual. Things seemed to be going the usual way, but when you opened the door you saw that the entire place was gracefully illuminated with candles and there was food on the table.

“What’s all this?” You asked.

“Dinner,” he replied, walking you to the table.

“What’s with the candles?”

“I like candles.”

“Don’t you think it’s too… intimate?” You asked, pointing at the decoration vaguely.

Chenle pulled a chair out and made you sit down by pushing your shoulders firmly. 

“I’ve been inside you. It doesn’t get more intimate than that,” he deadpanned before walking around the table and sitting in front of you.

“Chenle, this looks like a date,” you pointed out.

“I guess it kinda does,” he admitted.

“That’s not part of the deal.”

“Oh? The deal won’t allow us to eat?”

“Not like this,” you said for a lack of better words to explain yourself. “It’s like you’re tricking me into dating you.”

“It’s just food and some wine. Don’t be dramatic,” he said before he started eating.

Hesitantly, you followed. He was right, it didn’t have to be romantic. You could do what you normally do after dinner. And the food was delicious! You enjoyed it so much that you lowered your guard and didn’t mind Chenle’s trivial questions about your life and the things you liked.

He looked more relaxed too after having a normal conversation with you and it made the atmosphere more enjoyable and sensual by the time you reached the bedroom, giggling as you undressed each other.

Chenle was in a great mood; teasing and joking as he climbed on top of you and kissed your face. He was also more obedient than usual letting you do as you pleased and waiting for your permission to touch you.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he laughed breathlessly, one hand by each side of your head to keep himself from crushing you while you pressed a bullet vibrator on the base of his cock.

“Good?” You teased, moving it up slowly until it reached the tip and then back to the base, making him moan shamelessly.

“Y-yeah,” he whispered, pecking your lips. “Everything m-‘my princess does f-feels amazing.”

Maybe the wine had taken its toll on you because you low-key liked that petname.

“Your princess?” You giggled, moving the small toy up and down deliberately. 

Chenle’s eyes rolled back in pleasure. “Mhmm, you like that? Y-you wanna be my pretty princess?”

You nodded dumbly, drunk in desire, wine, and—even though you didn’t want to see it—adoration.

“You c—aah…You c-can be my princess anytime, you k-know that, yeah?” He half-moaned, blindly thrusting against the tiny toy you used on him.

“Y-yeah?” You croaked, licking your lips.

“Myeah, and I’ve…mmm fuck right there,” he hissed when you pressed the vibrator right under the head. “I’ve b-been a good p-pup for you, right?”

You nodded. “The best,” you said before giving him a kiss that was a little bit more affectionate than intended.

“Don’t I des— haa… deserve a reward?” He pouted.

You giggled, turning up the intensity of the vibrations and making him whine desperately. 

“Oohh—oh g-god, princess —,” he knitted his brows in concentration, making the biggest effort to say something coherent. “I—aah… I actually wanted—ah!”

“What is it?” You asked, putting the toy away momentarily to not overstimulate the poor wolf and give him the chance to speak.

He took a few deep breaths and looked into your eyes with determination. “Go out with me.”

 You suddenly sobered up and your dreamy smile faltered.  “Chenle, no—“

“Why not?” He croaked. “We have such great chemistry when we spend time together like two normal people. Or did you hate having dinner with me that much?”

“Dinner with you was great,” you assured him. “But that wasn’t our deal.”

“Let’s change the deal,” he pleaded. 

“You said no strings attached,” you reminded him.

“No. You said that,” he accused.

“And you agreed.”

“I don’t know why I agreed!” He admitted. “Y/N, I—I don’t know why I keep saying those things; it makes no sense! I imprinted on you. I crave to be with you in every possible way, not just sexually. Can’t we at least try?” 

“Chenle,” you sighed, feeling terrible. You didn’t mean for things to go this far. You thought any man would be happy with a shallow sexual agreement, but apparently it wasn’t Chenle’s case. You would have to use your voice again. “You don’t really want—Hhmp!“

Chenle’s hand covered your mouth before you could finish speaking. “Don’t,” he begged. “You always say weird stuff and I end up agreeing like an idiot.”

You let out muffled sounds and hit his arms but he didn’t budge. He was terrified of what you would convince him of if he let you speak.

So you quickly grabbed the vibrator that lay forgotten on the bed, turned it on on the highest setting, and pressed it harshly against the leaking tip of his cock.

He gasped and lost his balance and you managed to uncover your mouth and quickly finish your sentence:  “You don’t want me!”

Chenle shook his head, distressed and trying to cover your mouth again, but you kept slapping his hand away while overstimulating his member. That, combined with the wine made his movements clumsy and inefficient. “P-please, d-don’t say tha—aaaah…”

“You don’t want to be with me. You only want me for sex,” you insisted and your voice almost broke when you saw Chenle’s saddening expression.

His imploring eyes finally turned into void ones, as expected when under a siren’s spell.  At the same time, his body tensed and he came with a silent scream, staring into your soul.

You finally turned the toy off and the room was silent.

Then a hot, wet drop landed on your face. You looked up and saw abundant tears coming out of Chenle’s expressionless eyes.

“Chenle?” 

“Yes?” He replied monotonously.

“Why are you crying?” 

He blinked slowly. “I don’t know.”

Your stomach dropped. He looked so calm in his own daze, unaware of how you kept dismissing his feelings. Ignorant of how you kept convincing him of things he didn’t want whenever he tried to connect with you.

Yet he was crying.

Oh no. You had broken him.

You couldn’t stop yourself from crying too.

“What’s wrong?” He asked you quietly.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” you sobbed. “I’m trash—no, I’m worse than trash.”

He hesitantly placed a hand on your back. “No. You’re perfect…,” he assured you, just like he had told his leader a long time ago. Even in his confused state, he couldn’t think of you being anything but perfect. 

You sobbed harder. He deserved better.

You cleaned him up and caressed his hair until he fell asleep. Then you sneaked out, feeling like you didn’t deserve to be around him.

Yeosang was right. You were selfish. 

So you knocked on his door to apologize.

When Yeosang opened the door, he looked very surprised to see you, but he was more concerned about why you were awake and crying at 4AM.

“Y/N?” He asked, grabbing your hand gently. “What’s wrong?”

“Selfish is putting it lightly,” you said.

“Huh?”

“You said I’m selfish. But the truth is worse than that. I’m a bad person, Sangie. You’re right to be disappointed.”

He brought you into his room and closed the door, sitting you on his bed as he kneeled in front of you. “What happened?”

You told him everything. From the first encounter at the bar to what had just happened at the hotel. 

Yeosang listened patiently, calming you down when your voice broke and encouraging you to go on when you sounded ashamed.

“Do you understand the problem now?” he asked.

You nodded, sobbing.

“People are not toys, Y/N.”

“I’m so s-sorry,” you whispered.

“I know. Recognizing your mistake is the first step,” he said, whipping your tears away with his thumb. “Now you need to fix things.”

“H-how?”

“By making a choice,” he confirmed what you were fearing. “Either you accept him–all of him, or you let him go.”

You nodded again. “That sucks.”

He chuckled. “It does,” he agreed, pulling you into a hug. 

“I missed you,” you admitted, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I missed you too,” he said, hugging you tighter. He licked his lips before speaking again. “Sorry for asking this, but… did he make you–”

“Sangie!” you groaned, knowing what he was referring to.

“I’m not being nosy,” he explained quickly. “I know it’s personal, but if I’m asking it’s because it’s important.”

“He d-didn’t make me cum…” you confessed, feeling your face heat up.

“Ever?” he pressed.

“It almost happened many times,” you explained shyly. “But I always managed to stop it.”

“That’s impressive. It’s been about two months,” he calculated.

“Yeah,” you groaned. “Impressive.”

“Remember what I told you about orgasms?” he asked you

“Yeah,” you sighed. “That’s why I kept stopping him before it happened.

“That’s good news. It means you’re not completely tied to him,” he hummed. “Look, I contacted an old friend of mine—a siren. She imprinted once but she and her mate…they just had very different lifestyles. Different goals. So they didn’t consummate the bond.”

“Consummate meaning…?”

“She didn’t reach climax with her potential partner,” he explained. “Both of them went separate ways and never saw each other again. And you know what? She found love again.”

You pulled away from the hug to give him a surprised look. “She imprinted again?”

“No, not exactly,” Yeosang shook his head softly. “Sirens only imprint once in a lifetime. But she met someone else who could make her happy. What I’m trying to say is that you will live a good life no matter what you decide. Even if the goddess Amphitrite chose this guy for you, you can choose to live without him. And you will be fine.”

You bit your lip, deep in thought. 

“Or if you want to stay with him–” Yeosang continued listing your options.

“No,” you whispered. “Not after the way I treated him. The most honorable thing to do is let him go so he can find a good partner.”

“Are you sure?” he asked hesitantly. “You could think it over–”

“No, Sangie…I’ve prolonged this long enough,” you gave him a sad smile. “The sooner I end this the better.”

Poor Chenle had no idea what transpired when he woke up alone in the same hotel room where he always met you, with a terrible hangover and missing you more than ever. He still hadn’t gotten used to the inexplicable emptiness in his chest that he felt every time he separated from you, but today it felt more haunting than usual. Not seeing you in the room made him question if you were ever there, or if you were just a product of Chenle’s imagination. Were you even real? Was he going crazy? 

Thankfully your message took him out of what could have become an anxiety attack. You wanted to meet.

You had never contacted him two days in a row before. But what he found even weirder was that you were asking him to meet during the day. You also told him he didn’t need to book the room, which he found funny, because he owned the hotel, but he omitted that detail.

He went to pick you up at around 5PM, like you had requested, and he was taken aback when you asked him to go on a walk with him instead. If he was in his shifted form, he would be wagging his tail contently at the mere suggestion of sharing such a wholesome moment with you, but human Chenle was good at pretending he didn’t care.

He was so over the moon that he didn’t find it weird when you engaged in small talk and asked trivial questions like how he had slept if he had eaten or what his plans for the weekend were. You never cared much for any interaction with him which wasn’t quick sex, so this was a pleasant surprise for him.

You stopped at the beach. The same deserted beach where Chenle often went when he needed some time alone.

“I love this view,” you commented absentmindedly. “The ocean is the only place that makes me feel at home.”

Chenle took mental note of that. He would make sure to buy a house with the most beautiful ocean view. 

He looked at you and stared in awe at how gorgeous you looked. He was sure it wasn’t the golden hour effect, because you always looked stunning to him.

You turned to look at him and caught him staring, so he cleared his throat and quickly looked away.

“Here,” he said, offering you a small shopping bag that he had been carrying.

“What’s this?” you asked curiously,  opening the bag and taking out a delicate velvet box.

“It’s…for you,” he said, barely audible.

You opened the box and gasped when you saw what was probably the most beautiful and elegant necklace in the whole world. “Why?” you breathed out.

“I just saw it and thought of you.” he shrugged, still speaking very softly, like he was exhausted. 

That was half true. He did choose it because he thought you would look ravishing.

The other reason was that he called Jaemin to ask him what that feeling of emptiness could mean, and he had theorized that it could be because he still hadn’t marked you. Since biting you was out of the question, Jaemin suggested he gave you a little token. It wouldn’t be as permanent as a mark, but his wolf surely would feel more at ease if he saw you carrying something of his. 

Only Chenle would see costly diamond jewelry  as tokens. 

He looked at you attentively, panicking at your sudden loss of words.

“If it doesn’t suit your taste–”

“Let’s end things,” you said.

Now it was Chenle’s turn to be speechless. 

“...W-what?” he asked weakly.

“I’ve been thinking about it and I think it’s for the best,” you explained, closing the box in your hand and putting it back in the bag, offering it back to him.

He glared at the bag offendedly. “No, it’s not!” he countered.

“Yes, it is,” you insisted, shaking the bag in your hand closer to him but he took a step back. “This isn’t working.”

“I’ll make it work,” he hissed. “You’re not fucking leaving me.”

“That’s not your choice–”

“Nothing has been my choice!” he yelled. “You’re always bossing me around and doing whatever you want but now it’s suddenly not working?! I didn’t put up with your shit for you to leave me like this–”

“See? You hate the way I treat you, so why do you want to keep this up?!” you asked, once again trying to make him grab the bag, but he grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him instead.

“Because I love you!” he growled. “And you know it, even if you play dumb. I know you see it in the way I look at you, I know you feel it in the way I touch you and I know you’ve heard me moan it when you have your way with me. Sometimes a weird voice in my head tells me that’s not true,and that what we have is just sex, but– that’s not my voice and—” he trailed off, trying to make sense of the opposing ideas he had in his head.  “Yeah, I hate how much of a bitch you are sometimes, but I won’t give up on us, you hear me?!”

You almost gave in. 

But you reminded yourself he deserved better. 

There was one way he may let you go without you having to use 

“I’m not happy with you, Chenle,” you said firmly.

His entire world came crashing down around him. He only reacted when he felt you trying to break free from his grasp. He tightened his hold on you. He was not going to let you go.

“Why not?” he breathed out.

“I’m just not,” you said, trying to keep the tears at bay. “I get nothing out of being with you.”

“I’ll change that. I’ll do anything you say–” he said, swallowing his pride.

“And then what?” you asked coldly. 

“Then we–,” Chenle looked around nervously, and licked his lips, looking for the right thing to say, anything that would make you stay. “We become w-whatever you want us to–”

“So you’re okay with me leaving with my crew when the time comes?” you rolled your eyes. “I’m not staying here, and you’re not coming with me–”

“I’ll go,” he said quickly, squeezing your arm so hard it hurt. “I’ll go wherever you want–”

“I don’t want you to come with me, Chenle, fuck!” you screamed. “I want you to leave me the fuck alone, okay?!”

He froze, finally relaxing his deadly grasp on your forearm. You pulled away carelessly, dropping the precious gift on the sand, and walked away.

Chenle stayed right there for who knows how long.

He doesn’t even remember dragging his feet to get back home while hugging the wrinkled paper bag close to his chest. All he knows is that at some point he was fully clothed under the bed covers, feeling that dreaded emptiness expand inside of him.

#nct drabbles #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct smut #chenle #chenle x reader #chenle smut #chenle nct #chenle scenarios

[welcometogrouchland]

I miss them so bad (Dick and Damian)

#ramblings of a lunatic #dc comics #damian wayne #dick grayson #ITS JUST NOT THE SAME MAN #idk i was reading nightwing must die (again...) bc i was in a funk and saw another post saying how fans exaggerate the closeness btwn them #and on the one hand i get it. there is a very rosy portrayal of their relationship you'll come across in fanon #and they weren't very close at the beginning of their relationship #but man. reading Nightwing must die again was like #YES they fight. damian instigates it and while dick tries to exercise patience he does fight back/lash out on occasion #but despite all that it's still emphasized how important the two are to each other #when dick is forced to picture a future where he's lost his way he pictures damian being the one to bring him back #not necessarily bc damian is his favorite person on the planet but bc he gave damian robin. for a lot of practical reasons- #-but also bc how far damians come is (i think at least based on this arc) a testament to dick that hes doing Something right #both as a hero/person #damian is more than just a burden saddled on him (although there's an element of that in their batman and robin run) #he's also a last remaining connection to bruce when he's gone (remembering where he comes from) AND he's training damian+ #-his own way! with a dash of tough love and workaholic spirit inherited but also a lot of patience and focus on being More than the darkness #idc what ppl say nightwing must die makes sense for these two. its a retcon but one that works imo #that dick buried his head in the sand about how much damian meant/the responsibility he had to him bc it was a commitment he was afraid of #and how damian ultimately was a point of maturation for dick even if he went back to being Nightwing #they were SO goddamn close and now they're still close but only in ways that are implied #and their bond is deemphasized in comparison to each others bond w/ say bruce. which i think is a shame #it was a wrinkle! a fun wrinkle that the batfamily had that in some ways dick understood damian better than Bruce- #-even if he didn't feel like he could handle the responsibility of raising him full time #it kills me that bc of the n52 we never got the handover of the batman mantle (and damian) from dick to bruce #next nightwing writer...include a flashback to that moment AND have damian appear in the book in present....AND MY LIFE IS YOURS!!! #anyway. dick is damians brother but also damian a little bit imprinted on him like a baby duck and its rubbed off on dick #they're partners they're mentor mentee but most importantly they were batman and robin. and they were the greatest #NOT bc it was all peaches and roses but bc they cared for each other exponentially despite all that

[cozage]

hello! Im kinda new to tumblr so i dont really know if im supposed to send requests here so sorry if im supposed to send it somewhere else, but for my request can it be fem! Reader x sanji? Hurt to comfort where he says something mean but then apologizes? And can you pull out the angsty bit a little, but make the ending fluffy? And for the format can it be like a mini fic? If you want you can add other characters but i mainly want sanji! Thats all! Sorry if my request didnt make sense as im new to tumblr😔. Thank youu!

A/N: Hi! You did everything perfectly!! Thank you for the request <3 it was so hard to make Sanji mean even accidentally 😭 I hope this is good! It’s also not edited so please forgive any grammatical errors!  Characters: fem reader x Sanji Cw: Sanji is an idiot and says mean things (and is a little sexist) Total word count: 900

Rude Comments

“I can do it, Sanji.” Your words came out quick and short. Your temper was rising, both at your task at hand and the blonde who was hovering behind you. He didn’t normally come with you on jobs for Franky, but he had been free today.

“It’ll be faster if I do it,” Sanji offered. He reached out for the wrench. 

“I can do it!” you snapped again. You pulled away from the task and glared at him. “Franky asked me to do this, so let me do it!”

“Well, it’s just…” Sanji eyed your clenched fist around the wrench and took a step back. “It’s not really a woman’s job to do this sort of thing, and-”

“What the hell do you mean by that?” you bellowed. “You think I’m not capable of doing this?”

Sanji threw his hands up in a plea. “No my love! It’s not that at all! It’s just…you’re not very good at this.”

It felt as though you had swallowed a stone. “Franky always asks me to do this.”

“And you’re being very helpful!” Sanji said quickly. “But he gives it to you because it’s not exactly a top priority task and…well, it’s really hard to mess up.” 

Sanji gave a weary look back to your workplace as if your handiwork spoke for itself. His pitied gaze and words made you suddenly want to be alone. 

“Fine,” you mumbled, dropping the wrench to the ground. “Fix it for me, then.”

“Of course, darling!” Sanji jumped at the wrench. You were fairly sure he was already starting to explain how he turned the bolt, but you walked out the door without listening further. 

You didn’t see Sanji for a while. That was fine with you, though. You retreated to the back of the ship and perched atop a barrel, staring out at the sea to think. Did Franky always give you useless tasks just to keep you busy? You frequently had to return to the same tasks again and again. What if Franky broke things just to have you fix them? 

The thought brought tears to your eyes. You had been so sure Franky enjoyed your company and valued your help. He had called you “super indispensable” more times than you could count. Was it all just a lie?

“Darling?” 

Sanji’s voice broke through your mental spiral and you quickly wiped the tears from your cheeks. 

“Yeah?” Your voice came out wobbly, but there was no point in hiding from Sanji. 

You turned to face him. You had been ready for him to fuss over you, but you found that he was covered in sweat and grease and plenty of other weird stains and smears. He didn’t even seem to acknowledge your puffy eyes at first. He looked too exhausted. 

“So, this is the part where I apologize,” he said softly. 

He strode over to you in three steps and swept your hair out of your face. His hands were covered in grime, and you could feel the oily substance stick to your face. The feeling made you jerk away from him, but he was already pulling out a clean cloth and wiping it away. 

“I’m sorry I said those things, my love. I know you are very capable of doing anything you put your mind to. Your persistence is one of my favorite things about you. I shouldn’t have tried to take that away from you. You didn’t deserve that, and I’m so sorry I thought I could do something better than you just because of our genders.”

His words made your eyes swell. You had planned on still being mad at him after this. But seeing those crystal blue eyes and hearing his sweet words made you crumble all over again. 

“I forgive you.” You sniffed and wiped the tears from your eyes again. “Just don’t do it again.”

Sanji let out a laugh. “Oh, I will never be taking on a task Franky gives you again. You know how I said it was ‘hard to screw up’? It turns out that was wrong. I broke the whole pipe. Franky was pissed. He said he doesn’t let anyone touch that problem except you and him. Something about the pressure system needing a delicate hand, and only the two of you have the knack for it.”

It took a moment for his words to process, but you could feel your heart swelling. “Franky only lets me do that?”

Sanji nodded, guiding you towards the kitchen. “And a few other tasks. Says you’re the only one he trusts to do it right.” 

“I didn’t know that.” You had a vague feeling that you needed to cry for an entirely different reason now. 

He gave another laugh and sat you at the counter. “Well, you always excel at everything you do. It turns out I have a lot to make up for. What should we start with, chocolate cake or ice cream?”

#one piece #one piece scenario #one piece imagine #one piece x reader #one piece x you #black leg sanji #sanji x reader #sanji x y/n #sanji x you #cozage #i hope this is decent i haven't written in SO long but I'm (trying to) be back!!!! #✧˚sanji✧˚

[toniiswrld]

lee haechan x fem reader

cw. smut +18 mdni. roomates, fwb!enemies ?, birthday sex, unprotected sex (be smart)

“does this count as my birthday gift?” haechan grins as you sink down onto him, the both of you letting out content sighs at the feeling. your eyes struggle to stay open over his cock stretching you out so deliciously. he holds your hips tight as you clamp around him. he has to stop himself from pushing you all the way down, you’re torturing him with how slow you adjust to his size, but even through his lack of patience he doesn’t want to hurt you.

“thought maybe you’d be less irritating this week if you got laid” you try to keep your composure but its hard, you can never keep up your little mean act once haechan was inside of you. its like all the power you have outside melts away the moment you’re in his bed, and its completely evaporated once you get a feel of him.

“could say the same thing about you and your little attitude problem, princess” he chuckles, his demeanor turning more dominant the moment he can have you to himself. you say you hate him but you keep coming to him whenever you need a good fuck. and he was always going to be there to give it to you even if you didn’t deserve it. you got on his nerves, and he got on yours even more. petty fights in the apartment you two shared started to be filled with more and more tension until the both of you snapped. so now whenever either of you were being more annoying than usual, it always ended with you riding him with no help until you cry, him fucking you absolutely stupid or you overstimulating him and slapping him around for being a dick.

“how unfortunate that you made it through another year”

“it would be unfortunate for you… since you cant seem to get enough of my cock” he has that stupid little smirk on his face as your body starts to go limp, you can barely hold yourself up and you were trying to keep up with the pace you created, the boy under you taking all you gave him. since it’s his birthday it would only make sense for you to do the work and make him feel good, but it’s easy to get lost in pleasure when you’re on top of him. you rut your hips up while you press haechan closer into your chest, letting his lips leave wet hot kisses on the sticky skin of your chest and neck. he talks in your ear and it encourages you to move faster, his moans getting louder while you try to push him to the edge.

when your pace falters slightly, haechan helps you move faster and the way you clit grazes along the skin of his abdomen has the feeling of your orgasm building up faster than you’d like. you clench around haechan uncontrollably and he bites down on your sweaty shoulder, feeling his own orgasm getting closer. he could tell you were close, your breathing was slower like you were holding it in. he always had to remind you to breathe during times like this, but sometimes he liked watching you gasp for air as you cum.

“gonna cum before the birthday boy? how selfish…” you shake your head at his teasing and you try to slow down but haechans grip on you doesn’t loosen. he takes one of his hands to bring it down to your clit and you shudder, so close you could feel it all over your body.

“hae- fuck- haechan, gonna cum” the words barely come out of you coherently, whines and mumbles leaving your mouth as the pressure on your clit deepens.

“me too baby, cum for me” his words tickle your neck and you finally feel the rush of your orgasm, you stop moving as haechan holds you on him, rocking you slowly as you spasm around him, triggering his own orgasm. you both have your heads thrown back in pleasure, you’re milking his cock for every drop of cum and you don’t stop until your body stops shaking and he’s gently lifting you off of him from the overstimulation.

you both watch as a mix of his and your cum leak out of you, it drips down his thighs and you make a note to put these sheets in the wash before you go to bed. you turn over to lay on your back, legs burning from being bent for who knows how long. after a few minutes of recollecting, you can feel haechan shift next to you. he turns you slightly so he can spoon you, fingers grazing the exposed skin of your stomach and thighs as he presses his still hard cock against your bare ass.

“i think since im 24 today, we should fuck 24 times” you can hear the smile in his voice behind you, the way he talks like he came up with the best idea ever. all you can do is roll your eyes before reaching behind you to align his cock with your cunt.

“i really need to find a new roommate”

a/n: a little late but happy birthday haechan <33

#haechan smut #lee haechan smut #nct haechan smut #lee donghyuck smut #haechan x reader #haechan x reader smut #haechan imagines #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #haechan hard hours #haechan hard thoughts #nct hard hours #nct hard thoughts #nct dream hard hours #nct 127 hard hours

[joonieskinks]

au where you were married to Cpt John MacTavish, but wake up to find yourself married to Sergeant Johnny MacTavish (original vs remake Soap)

“No,” you state coldly. The shock was still sinking in.

“No, Price. That’s not my husband.”

Price’s gaze puzzles. “You asked for Johnny MacTavish, this is Johnny. Our Johnny.” He gestures to your supposed husband, who is taking this all in himself, but he sits just staring at you.

Johnny, who couldn’t stop admiring your face, your body, your ring on your fourth finger. He gave you that. Well, sort of.

Johnny, who was your husband. You, his wife. He had a wife in another life. Gods, what a catch you are, how did he manage to bag you? he thinks.

Wait. Gods, does that mean he gets you too?

“I asked for my John, my John MacTavish, my husband. He-“ You state and finally look, really look at the man before you, this Johnny.

“He’s too young, it’s not the same. It’s- it’s off.” You look back down to the floor, you’re utterly confused. One moment you’re in bed at home, the next you’re on base in a room that’s designated for “MacTavish”. At first you thought it was a dream, so of course you went asking for your husband just to see his face again.

You didn’t expect to actually see him, well- a younger version of your husband. Certainly not an alive one. You had to pinch yourself, you really were here, this was real.

Maybe it was a second chance, maybe it was a cruel trick from the devil. You couldn’t tell just yet. You were hesitant, scared.

But Johnny on the other hand, he was having a hard time keeping still and his hands to himself.

“Cap’, can ye give us a moment?” Johnny asked his superior, who happily obliged. He eyed you as if to warn you not to do anything stupid, but still be backed out of the room.

You could still barely look at Johnny. He’s your husband, but so much younger, he’s still just as handsome, he’s technically yours but- it was all too weird. Would he even want you? What if he had someone else already?

“Bonnie? Will ya look at me?” Johnny comes straight up to you, holding your hands in his. His fingers playing with your wedding ring, he already loves the idea of it, of you as his. Never did he think he’d have anything remotely close to this, so he considers you a blessing.

You reluctantly keep your head down so Johnny brings one hand to cup your chin, forcing your gaze up to his face.

The sight of his concerned face nearly breaks your heart. It hurts to see him yet it’s everything you’ve ever dreamed of since his passing. To have him before you again. It’s all so overwhelming you can’t help but tear up.

“No need for that, lass.” He smiles as he cups your cheeks. It feels so good to have his skin on yours again, you close your eyes at the feeling.

“If you’ll have me, I’ll certainly have you. Even if ye are a cougar now.” He jokes and your eyes shoot open at his words. You hit him lightly out of annoyance, but he just smiles. You can’t help but begrudgingly smile back, rolling your eyes.

Same sense of humour. Maybe he is your husband after all.

“I missed you so much, Johnny.” You admit, bringing your fingers to graze across his face. To actually feel him again, it really feels like you’re getting your second chance at love.

“‘Ts nice to finally meet my missus.” He says softly as he brings his forehead to rest against yours, but it’s you who brings your lips to meet his.

Then it hits you that this younger version of your husband might have even more stamina and strength- so naturally you waste no time getting him back into his quarters and testing that theory.

At first you feel a little nervous that Johnny might not like what he sees. After all, you are a couple years older than he is now, but he’s utterly entranced as you stand bare before him. His hands all over your body, exploring every crevice, kissing you up and down. He can’t get enough.

“My wife’s so beautiful”, “my wife’s all mine”, “gonna make you feel so good, show you what a good husband I’ll make for ye.”

#little puppy soap omg #joonieskinks #johnny soap mctavish x you #soap x y/n #johnny soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #johnny mactavish x reader #soap x you #cod mw2 #mw2 x reader #cod imagine #mw2 imagine #cod x reader #soap x reader #johnny mactavish x you #john price #ghost simon riley #Simon ghost riley

[zephyrchama]

A New Game

It must get boring playing the same mundane games, like rock-paper-scissors, for millennia. The Obey Me cast would probably jump at the opportunity to try something new. Something introduced from the human world. (This fic is not explicit in nature but repeatedly uses a word some people consider naughty.)

---

You received a message from Lucifer.

"My brothers are studying in the library. I have to step out for a while, will you supervise them until my return?"

The RAD library was busier than usual with students rushing to cram before the next big exam. The usually serene room had demons occupying every nook. Some sat on the floor with their back to a bookcase, some perched on the ladders leading up the shelves, and few were lucky to have a table seat.

Six of the seven brothers sat around one such coveted table. Lesser demons shied away from approaching them and even the more powerful students felt uneasy walking by. You were the only one with both guts and permission to approach.

The atmosphere was strange. They looked focused and were completely silent, so you greeted them with a wave and slid into the last open chair. Must have been Lucifer's. You leaned forward against the table edge and took a peak at Satan's advanced curse notes.

Things were too still. It felt wrong. At a glance they appeared to be studying, surrounded by book stacks and messy note sheets, but the brothers stared blankly at the material in front of them them without actually interacting with it. Something was up.

Leviathan made a barely perceptible sound. You looked at him, but brushed it off as your imagination when you realized he hadn't moved. It could have been someone nearby turning the page of a book.

At least they were all behaving. You couldn't force them to study, you were just there to supervise. You took a moment to enjoy the rare sight of the grand library being full. It was weirdly inspiring. A minute later you saw Mammon's lips twitch. He definitely said something under his breath.

"What?" you whispered, leaning his way.

Mammon dismissed you with a wave of his hand, shaking his head. You gave him a confused look.

Another mumble came from the opposite direction. You swung your head towards Asmodeus but he was fixated on a blank potion worksheet. He didn't so much as flinch when you narrowed your eyes suspiciously and waved a hand in front of his face.

"Ok. What's going on?" you asked. If this was a new way to study, it sucked.

Beelzebub coughed. It was so obviously fake. The way he covered his mouth made it hard to discern what he said.

"Lucifer's not here, you know. You guys can tell me." Would you rat them out if they were doing something malicious? That remained to be seen.

Feeling that someone was going to try again, you abandoned any hope of studying and focused all your senses towards the brothers. Who would be next to move?

It was both Satan and Belphegor. Being across from each other, you couldn't pay attention to them both and missed what they each said. They broke the stillness to make eye contact with each other and clenched their jaws in frustration.

Asmodeus took advantage of the moment to act next. The boys were getting a little louder each time, and this time you could almost make out what was said.

"...nis." Leviathan briefly shrunk behind a stack of books to say his piece.

Realization began dawning on you.

Beelzebub pretended to clear his throat. You were ready this time, and caught the word clear as day. "Penis."

By goodness, they were playing the human game you told them about. The Penis Game.

"What are the stakes? What are you playing for?" You had to know. They were doing this in the school's library, of all places? The brothers eyed each other with distrust.

"Winner gets to have you sit in their lap when Lucifer gets back," Leviathan explained, throwing a quick "penis" onto the end of his sentence.

You wondered if Lucifer would even allow that while Mammon said "penis," plain as day. A passing gaggle of students looked over.

Up on the second floor, a random demon stumbled and almost fell off a ladder, sending the books they carried crashing to the ground. Satan took advantage of the noise to say "penis" in a louder-than-average tone. The stakes were rising.

You were supposed to be supervising these guys, to make sure they studied properly to pass their exams. You should have put a stop this game. But it was funny and you were too curious how it'd unfold.

Belphegor shut his eyes. After a few deep breaths, he snorted a noise that resembled the word.

"That doesn't count," Asmodeus pouted. "It wasn't clear enough. Penis."

Belphegor furrowed his brow and cracked an eye open. "What? Yes it does. I said penis, didn't I?"

Satan clicked his tongue. "That's debateable. Penis."

The table was now speaking rather loudly and attracting stares from every direction. Nobody would dare shush the rulers of the Devildom without a death wish, but they could observe them in silence.

"I-I don't know how much longer I can do this... P-penis." Leviathan was at his limit. He didn't like the stares. Maybe if you had told them this was the "anime game" he would have stood a chance.

"What? We're just saying penis." Asmodeus had no reservations at all.

"Penis." While Mammon called out, students noticeably began trickling out of the library.

"Maybe we should wrap this up, you guys are disturbing everyone," you gingerly suggested.

"That's not fair, penis. Are you saying you want to sit in Mammon's lap?" Belphegor scowled.

Beelzebub, newly determined to beat his older brother and spurred on by his twin, bellowed "penis."

The yelling caused more students to pack up their belongings and scurry out. You cringed a bit. All remaining eyes in the library were on your table. "No! I'm not favoring anyone, but this is getting out of hand."

"Penis! They're just jealous! Come over here, I'll take good care of you." Mammon patted his thigh.

"Absolutely not! Mammon, get away from them! Penis!" Asmodeus shouted and grabbed your shoulder. Uh oh.

The physical altercation began. Satan growled, "don't touch them," and shoved Asmodeus into Leviathan's textbook stack. "Penis."

"H-hey! Watch it! Ugh, penis!" Leviathan scrambled to avoid Asmodeus' fist.

"Wow, Satan! Rude! What if I got scratched? Penis!" Asmodeus lurched at Satan, who ducked and sent the former crashing into Beelzebub.

Beelzebub didn't really care, but he still wanted to win. "Penis."

"Yeah, penis. You said it Beel." You didn't really get what he meant, but Belphegor was upset in his twin's place.

"I'm winnin' this thing! Penis!" Mammon nearly toppled the table over.

Everyone was straining to shout as loud as they could, a rowdy chorus of "penis" chants. You watched the insanity of the scene unfold in front of you, hoping demon forms would not get involved.

Something made you shudder. An ice cold, low rumble of a voice from the library entrance that cut through all the arguing and screams.

Lucifer had returned. "You're not studying."

He was followed by Lord Diavolo and Barbatos who both remained quiet, letting Lucifer deal with his family.

"You disrupt our meeting for this?" Lucifer's eyes could have had flames in them. A black mist emanated from his shoulders. He was furious. "Do you know how many complaints we received? Half the student body showed up, knocking at our door."

Diavolo was beside himself trying to maintain composure befitting a royal. He wanted nothing more than to laugh. Lucifer was not going to hear the end of this incident.

Barbatos had a cold smile plastered to his face and a hand on his chest, implying that one wrong move would result in unfathomable punishment.

The brothers shifted uncomfortably back into their chairs, dragging textbooks towards them and guiltily sticking their noses back into piles of notes. They didn't dare utter a single word.

"Don't think any of you are getting off scott free." Lucifer loomed over them. They could already feel the impending rope burn on their skin.

"If you wanted extra duties so badly, there are many sites on school grounds that can use improvement. You could have just asked." Barbatos was happy to take advantage of their suffering if it was beneficial for Diavolo.

Lucifer looked at you. He wasn't mad, just disappointed, which felt worse. "Don't think you're innocent, either. You were supposed to be supervising them."

You nervously averted your eyes, slumping your shoulders while picking at the corner of some notebook paper as he continued, "come with us back to the council room. You're giving us a detailed report on exactly what happened here, and what this 'penis game' malarkey is all about."

#diavolo's gonna talk about this for centuries. diavolo's gonna be like “barbatos lets play the p game.” “no my lord.” “barbatos please.” #pls dont ban me for this. #no proof reading. i sit down and hash this out and send it into the world to get it out of my head and then spend hours in regret. #obey me #obey me swd #obey me scenarios #obey me! #omswd #obey me shall we date #obey me x mc #obey me fanfic #obey me brothers #obey me fic #obey me crack #obey me writing #obey me drabble #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me mc #obey me x reader #obey me x you

[theautisticdoctor]

Entry #007

Sensory System

In autism the sensory system is a funny part of the body, it can be hypersensitive or hyposensitive. It can be a kind of a superpower and a disability at the same time. When people think about the senses, they often think about the five senses that do the seeing (visual), hearing (auditory), smelling (olfactory), tasting (gustatory), and feeling (tactile), but there are three more systems in the body that take in information for the brain to process and acts on it. It are the balancing and coordination (vestibular), the positioning (proprioception), and the information from inside the body (interoception).

I won't be explaining the visual, auditory, olfactory, gustatory and tactile senses separately. I think they are pretty self-explanatory, in contrary to the vestibular, proprioception and interoception senses. Generally there are three categories in how people can perceive the information through their senses, they can be normosensitive, hypersensitive and / or hyposensitive. It is not one fits all, you can be hyposensitive and be stimulating it yourself, but then suddenly get overstimulated after all. It is a journey to find out how you react and how to balance your systems. But know that all the systems work together, for example your visual system works together with your auditory and vestibular system. I have drawn out the links I have found up until now how my systems work together, so that if one system gets overstimulated it could have some effect on another system for me.

Vestibular

The vestibular sense is the sense of stability, balance, movements and position of the head on the body. It works together with the visual system to make sure your eyes look in the right direction while moving your head and to correlate movements registered with what's being seen.

Proprioception

Proprioception is the possibility to perceive the position of your extremities. It gets registered by the mechanoreceptors in the tendons of your muscles and together with the visual and vestibular system it makes sure someone can coordinate movements with correct force. It is partly conscious and partly unconscious regulated, and is responsible for body position, reflexes, movement coordination, correct tone of muscles and stability. People with autism can often have trouble with correctly positioning their body, stability and coordination of movements. This is partly because of the two other senses as well, but also because of a hyposensitivity to the mechanoreceptors in the tendons.

Interoception

Interoception includes the thermoception (possibility to perceive temperature and regulates body temperature) and the nociception (possibility to perceive pain), as well as all the other bodily sensations like hunger, thirst, pain, toilet urge, flatulence, intra-abdominal gas, nausea, etc. Notice that pain is listed twice, as 'nociception' and as 'other bodily sensation'. This is because nociception is a complex thing. Nociception is pain through a stimulus within a tissue by either thermal, chemical or mechanical. But pain can also derive from other sources, for example pain from nerves is called neuropathic pain. It's a separate study on its own, but the distinction could be relevant, because for example, I'm hyposensitive to nociception and hypersensitive to neuropathic pain stimuli. Meaning, I won't feel I'm overstretching my muscles and creating an inflammation around or even doing a little damage to a nerve. Ending up with a neurogenic inflammation pain and sensory loss across an entire nerve branch for weeks, which is excruciating for me. But hey, I was able to bend my arm backwards and get that paper from behind the cupboard without moving it.

Integration

It's useful to make an inventory in what categories one is hypo- or hypersensitive for certain stimuli and what practical problems it creates for you. Beneath this sensory system inventory worksheet I have included mine too, so you have an example as well.

Mine looks something like this:

It's probably not finished yet, but I thought I might already share it. How I think my sensory system works together or influences each other for me, that I found out up until now (the faint and bolder green lines are both interactions):

#actually autistic #aspergers #aspergers syndrome #autism #autism spectrum disorder #autistic #autistic adult #autistic community #autistic spectrum #being autistic #unmasking autism #high masking autism #high functioning autism #sensory processing disorder #sensory processing issues #sensory processing sensitivity #sensory problems #sensory #sensory overload #sensory issues

[thesilmarillionblog]

𓏲 𓂃 L o s i n g Y o u

Part: 8

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: Everything was good as a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's secret girlfriend until the team and your relationship with him began to fall apart due to a new member and her developing relationship with Ben right in front of your eyes.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: heavy angst, hurt , language, PTSD, mention of drugs, mention of torture

Word Count: 4538

A/N: English is not my first language.

* This story is inspired by the song "Losing You" by Dream Evil.

You asked Ben again, “What did you do to those people?” while he continued to look at your furious and angered look.

He avoided watching the news and simply replied in a dry voice, “I didn't mean to hurt them. Everything happened so quickly.”

Despite your hopes that, after all this time, he would change a little, you came to the conclusion that his appearance was the only thing that had changed. He was the same guy who hurt everyone around him like they were just insects, never thinking twice about it. He remained the same merciless man who just cared about himself.

You were too ignorant to believe that it was Crimson Countess had drastically changed him, but this was simply another lie you told yourself in defense of Ben's behavior. It was just who he really was.

You talked softly while Butcher continued to watch TV, “How can you even stay the same after all the things that happened to you?”

“I killed the doctor who hurt and tortured you. You already knew; whatever I did for him, he deserved it,” he angrily said, gesturing to you as though he were doing you a favor and somehow trying to convince you.

“Should I feel like a graduate and thank you?” You questioned him bitterly, glaring at him. “You are the reason I spent decades being imprisoned and subjected to torture in vain. You are the reason I am currently homeless and the state's number two foe. How come you're still so blind and self-centered?”

Ben grumbled, “Calm down, baby,” ignoring your inquiries as he roughly grabbed the remote control out of Butcher's hand and flicked through the channels. “We can talk about things at a later time. For now, take a moment to rest.”

Ben continued to stare at the TV and shifted on the couch in an attempt to make himself more comfortable, so you replied, “Don't call me 'baby.'”

“It looks like Tony Montana is going to bed alone tonight.” With a cunning grin, Butcher attempted to reclaim the remote control from Ben's grasp. “Also, don’t be dramatic and so upset, you have a place to stay, you’re not homeless.”

“Tony Montana—who the fuck is he?” Ben muttered, pushing Butcher's hands a little too hard while refusing to give up the remote control. “I’m in charge in here. What I watch, you'll watch too.”

“Hey, you remember our deal, don't you? I'm hoping you won't back down.”

You turned to Butcher and questioned, “What deal?” with a confused gaze on your face when he suddenly started speaking in a serious and mysterious tone.

Ben stepped in immediately and shot Butcher a quick glance, saying, “It's not so important.”

“All right, there's nothing to worry about. Your teammate just promised me that he would help me kill a cunt named Homelander.”

Ben kept shooting Butcher with a deadly look as he immediately spilled the beans.

“I'm not worried about anything,” you cut Butcher off abruptly, averting Ben's tough stare. “Whatever he's up to, he's alone in this. But tell me, what’s deal about.”

“Sweetheart, I don't need your help anyway. You simply stay at home and take care of things while you chill,” Ben said in an amused way, attempting to hide his tiny sense of hurt that came from your coldness.

He didn't intend to include anything that would distress you further, but he couldn't stop remembering the times you supported and fought alongside him. He would never ask you to get involved in the Homelander situation, though, since he knows you've already been through a lot of terrible things. He was also too proud to accept your assistance.

Turning to face you, Butcher added, “You don’t have to be so ruthless. He made the deal to get help from me to save you.”

Butcher believed that, given Homelander's strength, helping him would be beneficial and that it would be great if you would just soften and offer a helping hand. Butcher knew Soldier Boy would be happy to let you fight alongside him, as he was aware that he took your suit from Legend. You were once the strongest superwoman, after all, and he would have a better chance of finally killing Homelander.

Hughie, thankfully, returned to join you with a meal in his hands before you could ask Butcher any more questions. You were so hungry that you didn't even realize it until you smelled pizza. It was all about pleasure, yet even if you starved for decades, you wouldn't die.

Hughie smiled hesitantly and said, “Sorry, I didn't ask you before ordering, but I hope you're okay with pizza.” It's likely that he was the only decent person in the room. You wondered why this person was willing to work with a man like Butcher. He gave off an air of deception.

“Of course it's okay,” you said as soon as you smelled it. You then gave him a graditude look and said, “Thanks a lot.”

Ben quickly got up, tossed the remote control in Butcher's face, and grabbed the pizza from Hughie's hands as he sat next to you before you could move. Ben stepped closer, spreading his legs a little and making contact with your thighs, but you put some distance between you two right away. You didn’t understand why he was acting like that out of the blue, but you didn’t ask anything.

None of you spoke, even though you felt Ben's gaze briefly lingering on you. Although you were unsure of what Ben truly wanted from you, you were determined to learn from your past mistakes. Therefore, it was best to clarify it for him as well.

Upon seeing Noir's visual on TV, you exclaimed in shock, “Is Noir still working for Vought?”

That was the moment you understood. Earving never came to save you. If he just wanted to, you knew he could and would find you. You could understand why he might not have wanted to take the risk of going through the same things with you if he had a legitimate reason for not saving you. You had no right to be selfish. However, you were certain that you would behave differently if he were in your place. You therefore couldn't help but feel a little let down.

Ben angrily remarked, “Of course he does,” as he watched you devour the pizza. “He wouldn't even take his shit without the permission of Vought. Fucking traitor. He didn't even give a fuck about the things you went through all those years. I had no doubts that he was going to abuse your friendship. There was always something sneaky about him.”

You couldn’t left out a small hiss as Ben started to talk about loyalty.

“All right,” you replied, casting him a piercing glance. “I got used to being betrayed.”

He aggressively exclaimed, “Don't compare me with that son of a bitch,” and launched into a self-defense tirade. “I came to save you too as soon as I was free, and I looked for you everywhere.”

“How could I ever compare you with him while I know you are worse. And yes, Ben, you're quite considerate to have searched me in the Countess' home. Many thanks for it.”

“I payed a visit to her because I knew she was most probably the one tricked you. It was nothing else.”

“Whatever,” you said back harshly. “I don’t care anyways.”

Butcher interrupted you after making a brief phone call in the kitchen, saying, “Listen here, Bonnie and Clyde. Hughie and I need to get out and meet some buddies, but if you're not going to make trouble and if you don't want to fuck in peace all night, it's best if you don't stay at home. In every other case of emergency, you need to join us.”

You hurriedly swallowed the large slice of pizza and gasped, “We won't... I mean, we wouldn't,” to Butcher. Your cheeks flushed. “It's not like we're together or anything, so don't misinterpret and talk like this, please.”

Ben leaned back to the coach and said, “Well, I'm all in, baby,” pleased to see you flushed and in a panic. “Keep in mind that. Since I'm free, I didn't even fucking jerk off once. You can use me however you like,” he stated, stretching his legs and making an attempt to brush against you briefly while grinning genuinely and invitingly.

You grumbled, “I'm trying to enjoy my meal here,” ignoring the absolute filth that was flowing from his mouth.

“All right, that's OK.” Butcher urged you to complete your dinner, saying, “You can continue eating where we go. We must leave in five minutes.”

Ben growled, “Don't fucking order her around.”

“It's fine,” you stopped eating right away. “Where we're going to go?”

“We have to get some Temp-V from Hughie's friend. It appears that we will need to use it soon,” Butcher replied, glancing at Ben. “Unfortunately, you can't beat Homeland with just one guy.”

Ben did not even respond to Butcher's crap; he only rolled his eyes. He was aware that Homelander would be the easiest to take down. He was Soldier Boy, and someone of Butcher's age wouldn't fully get who he was.

You and Ben were seated in the back of Butcher's car, and Ben was covering the whole place almost as if he wanted you to lean into his body. He was always on the move, both his hands and his legs, and occasionally you would think he looked a bit bashful if you didn't know just how arrogant he really was. Somehow, you sensed the uncertainty, but you didn't look him up or ask him questions.

You couldn't help but feel confused and depressed as you gazed out of the car window at the enormous, gleaming structures. You no longer felt like you belonged in the world because so many years had passed in a tiny little cage. It seemed as though no one knew you, cared about you, or you had no place to stay. It's not your world, but rather other people's, that you see when you peek out the window.

You said, “Everything looks so different,” as a sense of melancholy took over you.

“Not at all,” Ben remarked in an arrogant tone, as if he had figured out everything in a single day. “I've learned many things; I will teach you all; don't worry.”

You challenged him, casting him a skeptical glance. “What do you know?”

“Well, I might teach you a thing or two because you're too eager to learn. For instance, GPS and the Internet were quite helpful in helping us learn about you and the place you were kept,” he added with pride as he smiled at you and waited for your reaction.

You whispered, “You're just making those words up,” unsure if he was trying to trick you.

“Those words are real words. I had said the same to that fuckface; believe me, sweetheart,” he continued, giving Hughie a harsh shoulder pat. “Hand over your damn android phone to me.”

Hughie murmured in distress, “Oh, God,” as Butcher nodded awkwardly and gave him an odd look. “Just don’t break it or something, please.”

Hughie handed his phone reluctantly to Ben, who took it with a swift move, and Ben used it like a pro, tapping the screen quickly. When he wrote down his name and yours on the screen called 'Google', your eyes widened open as you saw a ton of images and details about the two of you, Payback, and everything else.

Captivated by what Ben showed you, you muttered, “Everything about us is written down there.”

“See,” he declared with pride, chuckling at your bewildered response. “I told you I was very well-informed. The name of this one is Internet.”

You challenged him again, interested in learning more about this small device, which seemed to know a lot of things. The modern world is unquestionably something else, with easy access to knowledge at any time and about any subject matter.

“I am familiar with social media. If you don't want to be identified by your real identity, you can put up a fake profile and follow anybody you want. I made one for the two of us as well.” Ben responded, seeming proud of everything he had achieved with a cunning smile on his face.

You pretended to understand everything he said as you asked, “And what's your fake name?”

“It’s ‘soldierboyy/n69.' Pretty creative, isn't it?”

“Oh my gosh, Ben,” you said, pushing the phone and his hands in an annoyed tone as your face turned red. “Everyone will know that it is you. I shall be accused of having once again supported your actions if they find out the identity of your account. Why do you act so carelessly?”

“Everyone has those fake names,” Ben said, grimacing at how much you disapproved of what he had done. Nobody will find out because I'm not using it anyway."

He intended to show you that he never thought of himself apart from you and that he thought of you even while he was setting up the account, but all he managed was to distress and upset you once more. Observing your defensively crossed arms on your chest, he sighed and moved his strong arms to your seat in an attempt to get close to you.

“How are you so sure?” you asked as he handed over the phone to Hughie in a rude manner.

“Because that's the way the modern world works, sweetheart. Nothing and anyone are real when it comes to Internet.”

“Indeed,” Butcher said, glancing at the two of you through the mirror. “He is right; no one will find out. It's not really a big deal; trust me, if it were, I would have problems as well because of him.”

You cut it short, closing your eyes and lowering your head to the seat. “Okay,” you mumbled.

It was as though some odd numbness overcame your body, leaving you exhausted and unbalanced even after decades of sleep. It was most likely due to the quantity of sleep that your body became accustomed to, and it's also possible that you were experiencing a side effect from what you experienced in the lab. Nonetheless, it didn't concern you because you knew you still had your strength. You only needed to get a bit more rest. As you closed your eyes to give your body a break until you got there, you inhaled deeply.

You slowly opened your eyes, feeling Ben's gentle touch on your cheek, and heard him say, “You really turned into sleeping beauty, didn't you?” in a lighthearted manner.

“Have we arrived?” you muttered as you opened your eyes and noticed his intense gaze on you. The moment Butcher and Hughie slammed the car door, you immediately fully came to your senses.

Ben nodded, confused, not knowing how to react to your coldness as you gently moved his hands away from your face.

Ben and you had just followed Butcher and Hughie to the small, slightly desolate house. You looked around the room, and the other two women, who were glancing at you warily, exchanged glances. You could tell they were supes, just like you, from the whiff of Comp-V in their scents. You were a little nervous because you had no idea what their intentions were toward you. You had no friends or someone to rely on anymore, and you were a stranger to everything after all.

“Ladies, how are you doing here?” Butcher grabbed a glass of whiskey from the kitchen and inquired as he sat down right away on the closest couch.

“I can't believe you and you especially you Hughie,” the blonde remarked angrily. “You two really set them both free, and you forced me to take so much Temp-V; we're going to be caught. It's only a matter of time.”

“So you're the supe woman that bottom-faced guy pounding?” Ben aggressively exclaimed, pushing the short-haired man to the right while he snatched a cola from the refrigerator. “And the one who works for Vought when you're not getting off and doing other things.”

“Stop it, Ben,” you said in a warned tone as his abrupt aggression caused the air to thicken.

“Why don't we just sit down and have a nice chat?” Hughie looked at you anxiously, as if you wanted to soothe Ben before anything happened.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he said, flashing you a cunning grin when he spotted you approaching him, and you gave him a cold look while he sipped his coke in joy.

“Well, Annie, that it wasn't in vain. Soldier Boy and I struck very useful bargain, didn't we?” Butcher inquired, glancing back to Ben with a sly smile. “We're going to kill Homelander together.”

You felt uneasy, and your thoughts turned to the Homelander once again. Even if you didn't care about Ben at all, you couldn't help but feel concerned because you were both strangers to Vought and the outside world now that Ben had gotten into so much trouble. Not only did you not want to return to the lab, but you also didn't want Ben to go through the same painful experiences. Even though he had been vile to you, you didn't want him to suffer forever in Russia.

Annie replied, “You should have told me, Hughie,” casting a disappointed glare at her boyfriend. “You’re so acting strangely these days.”

Hughie insecurely responded, “I know, I know,” rubbing her cheeks. “And I’m really sorry for it. It won’t happen again.”

The man with short hair said, “You all know that they both are being searched by the government, right?”

Butcher shot back, “Of course we all fucking know that, Frenchie.”

Annie looked at you and said, “Well, I guess Y/N's situation is worse,” while you stood by Ben, watching him carefully to make sure he didn't suddenly lose his temper and start some serious drama. “Well, she's a known traitor after all.”

You immediately defended yourself by saying, “I'm not a traitor,” and you were enraged at her haughty demeanor. Despite her lack of knowledge, she was constantly talking about things she had no idea about. “Vought only spread lies and caused us pain in order to build up the next generation, which is your generation. They tortured me for years just because I wanted to quit.”

Annie's expression softened as she realized that Vought would do something like that and that she was having trouble as well in Seven. She then apologized to you by looking at you and sincerely saying, “I'm sorry to hear that.”

She went on, making an effort to get you to see how complicated the situation was, saying, “But you need to understand that no one will believe you. For all this time, you have been regarded as a spy for the entire world. The same remains for Soldier Boy.”

“What is your point?” Ben cut her off with a harsh voice.

Ben was becoming mad at those morons; they were just some stupid kids who liked to order other kids around, but he was a man, a true leader, the strongest supe to live, and they had no idea what him and you had been through or who had been in charge decades earlier. He was already becoming a little tense about that blonde's cunning ideas, so he realized he had to proceed with caution going forward. He had to watch out for you too, in order to keep you safe.

With defensive hands on her hips, Annie retorted, “The thing is, it's best if you don't see each other for a while. I can help you spend a week in various secure locations, separated.”

Ben abruptly tensed up, enraged that the blonde had already made plans in her cunning mind to keep him away from you. “No fucking way,” he said. He was certain that those fucked-brains would propose something so incredibly moronic.

Even if it made sense, you realized those new guys weren't to be trusted as they were strangers. It was true that you needed some alone time apart from Ben, but for the time being, it was preferable to ignore what you’re told.

“Everyone is talking about what happened in New York and Ohio,” Annie said furiously. “I’m just asking you two be hidden for a week. Everything’s already complicated in Vought and I have my own problems.”

“Look, sneaky woman,” Ben hissed, “I don’t give fuck about your problems or anything at all. If you ever suggest such thing, you won’t have a head to think such idiotic things anymore. I’m warning you.”

“Ben, you need to calm down,” you said. You scowled at the feeling that his chest was unusually heated compared to normal. 

Frenchie agreed, saying, “Y/N is right; there is no need to fight each other.” The supe woman next to him smiled and patted his shoulders.

Butcher responded, “Annie is right too, though,” as he examined the Temp-V carefully on his lap. “Too much attention has been paid to Soldier Boy during the past three days. We are also doomed if he is seen soon enough.”

“They could be right,” you acknowledged, nodding to Butcher, understanding that his points were reasonable. Since you and Ben were currently the state's number one and two foes, you also didn't want to get into any sort of trouble.

Ben cursed, “Fuck that,” and he gave Butcher a menacing stare. He got offended at the fact that you instantly agreed with them but not with him. “I didn't realize I had done business with so many jerks. If you're that afraid of what's ahead, I might accept your suggestion, but Y/N is staying with me.”

“Calm down, buddy. Why are you so obsessed?” Butcher questioned, putting the bag down from his lap.

When you realized Ben was about to start an argument without reason, you asked him, “Why are you being like this?” in an irritated tone.

“Are you saying that you're prepared to follow those fuckfaces' instructions?” While you could tell he was angry, he inquired quietly, “What's wrong with you?”

Ben set down the coke and paid no attention to Butcher's irritating remarks. Instead, his attention was drawn to you. The fact that you didn't trust him but did trust the new people you had met most disturbed him. It was not them who saved you, but it was him who considered your safety and future. Still, you were ready to follow what they had to say. You'd been away from each other for a long time, so there was no reason to spend another minute separately.

“I'm not saying anything, Ben. I just want you to quit being irrationally dissatisfied and to be reasonable.”

Butcher sighed as he watched you start to debate, but Annie grasped Hughie's arm and guided him to another room to have a conversation.

Ben stated, “I'm not getting angry for no reason,” while attempting to stay controlled.

Despite Ben was desperate to touch you, he restrained himself since he knew that you two needed to have discussed the situation before acting on it. How in the world was he supposed to talk to you properly after a week apart? “I'm just saying, we don't have to spend a week alone and separated,” Ben said with a low voice.

Your eyes wandered around everywhere except for him.

“I'm not sure, Ben,” you teased him, feeling hesitant about his response. “Maybe we should.”

“How can you be sure that those people won't imprison you to a metal box once more? Do you really want to go back to that lab? You're saying you have faith in them, but not in me?”

You angrily gasped, “Don't you ever talk to me about trust. I would never make the same mistake by trusting you again.”

He tried to calm himself down, saying, “I'm the only one who saved you,” but the heat inside his chest kept growing.

“Will you stop arguing?” Butcher got up and asked, watching Ben trap you against the kitchen table while grinning at Ben and sipping his whiskey. “She obviously wants to be by herself for a while. Would you please just accept her decision and let her to enjoy herself?”

Ben angrily remarked, “Mind your fucking own business; we are fucking having a conversation here.”

You stopped disputing with him and cast a puzzled glance at his chest as soon as you felt the warmth in his chest increasing once more.

Butcher said, “It's like you're forcing her for something she doesn't want to though. Don't be such a drama queen,” ignoring Frenchie's warnings. “She might just want to spend time alone in a nice place and fuck with some hot dudes, savor the time she missed all those years.”

Ben snarled, turning to face Butcher and ignoring you this time. “Watch your fucking language," he growled. “If you say one more word, I fucking swear I'll rip your heads off.”

Ben's chest began to glow suddenly before he could finish his sentence, and your eyes widened, sensing the anxiety and the heat coming from his body.

“Ben,” you whispered quietly, uneasy with his rage and the anguish on his face, as if he tried to maintain self-control.

With an expression of fright on his face, Frenchie and the supe woman next to him also retreated a step. “Calm down, buddy,” Butcher muttered. “Let's not cause another accident. You've already done enough damage, huh. ”

But Ben's chest continued to glow, alerting you. “Hey, what's wrong with you?” you asked as you walked up to him, stroking his arms and then his face and making him to look at you.

He snarled, “I can't hold it,” and shoved your hands away right away. “Stay away from me.”

Instead of following commands, you remained in the same spot and continued to massage his upper arms in an effort to soothe him though you got extremely anxious. Then, in the hopes of calming him down a little, you put your hands on his burning, hot chest. Even if there was smoke slightly arising from his body, your hands felt chilly.

You whispered, “It's okay,” feeling his temperature drop beneath your fingertips gradually.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

A/N: Comments and reblogs are very appreciated! -`♡´-

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[lordprettyflackotara]

dollhouse || jeff the killer || part two

SMUT DNI 18+

“You’re fucking insufferable!

“I’m insufferable? Which one of us fucked up the mission?”

“Obviously you!”

You audibly scoffed. The mission had gone perfectly, minus one tiny little flaw. Neither of you anticipated your getaway car being broken into and stolen. It resulted in a very awkward game of hide and seek, where you both were forced to hide behind a dumpster until someone came to get you. (Ben found the situation hilarious).

Unfortunately for both of you, EJ was the one who was ordered to pick you up. The proxies were used to your and Jeff’s bickering, the three often intervening and picking sides. EJ on the other hand was more reserved, always silently observing and thinking. The final piece to the tragic puzzle, were the three days spent tracking down said car to cover your tracks. In recent years Slender had become more insistent on being careful, making sure no traces of creeps were left behind. With EJ’s sense of smell it wasn’t hard to find the thief, just time consuming.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy torching the car and watching it be engulfed into flames. What you didn’t enjoy, was quite literally everything else. Including the long car ride back to the mansion, which included both you and Jeff sharing the backseat. Originally you both had fought over the passenger seat, EJ quick to manhandle the both of you into the backseat by force. Now you were forced in a confided space with your arch nemesis, one who had came in you days prior.

“I’m not the one who decided to finger paint blood on the wall. Maybe if we had saved the arts and crafts bullshit we’d still have a fucking car,” You argued. You were both still covered in dry blood, exhausted, and filthy. Every ounce of energy you had left was dedicated to spiting at each other. “EJ are you hearing this shit? The whole go to sleep thing is kinda my thing. Not my fault you weren’t clever enough to come up with a signature,” Jeff debated. EJ sighed, ignoring the both of you as he continued driving down the dimly lit road.

“Yeah I can tell your signature was made when you were fourteen. It screams edgy preteen,” You spat, crossing your arms. You looked out of the window, sick of seeing Jeff’s face. You hated how he made you feel. So angry. So vulnerable. It was like he could see right through you, both of you apart of the same parting glass. “I’m not the one who got horny mid mission,” Jeff grumbled. You shot daggers at him with your firey gaze as you turned your head. “What the fuck did you just say?” You asked. Jeff matched your energy, both of you meeting halfway. “I think you heard me loud and clear doll face,” He snickered.

“I will throw you out of this moving car Jeffrey,” You growled. Jeff came closer, your faces an inch apart. “Yeah? I’d like to see you try-” He began, both of you flying forward against the seats in front of you. EJ had slammed on the brakes, the car coming to a sudden stop in the middle of the road. “Will you two shut the fuck up? You are driving me nuts! Either fuck, get married, or kill each other. Pick one. Or you know what? Fuck it. Maybe do all three. In that order. Just shut the fuck up!” EJ yelled. Jack was never the violent or expressive type, not in your experience. You’d never heard him mumble more than four sentences before.

You picked yourself up off of the floorboard, trying to look proper as you resumed your position in your seat. Jeff did the same, watching as EJ slowly turned back around. He shook his head, slowly pressing his foot on the gas. “We did fuck, just to be clear,” Jeff clarified. You screeched in horror. “Jeff?! What the fuck?” You said, slapping his arm. Jeff rolled his eyes. “Cmon dude it’s fucking EJ. If anyone understands the primal fucking thing it’s him,” He said, pointing at the demon in question. Jack slammed on the brakes once again, your head hitting the seat in front of you this time.

“I’m getting out of the car. Get your energy out by fucking or killing each other, I don’t care which. Just let me know when you’re done,” EJ grumbled, undoing his seatbelt. You reached over the seat and grabbed his arm. You wanted nothing more than to go home and shower. And if you had to shut Jeff up to do it, you would. “We’ll figure it out and leave you out of it. Okay? Please take us home,” You say softly. Out of all of the mansions residents, Jack probably bothered you the least. Most of the time he kept himself wrapped up in his medical lab. You only really saw him when one of the proxies needing stitching up, EJ taking pride in the one thing he considered himself to be good at.

Jack sighed, not saying anything but beginning to drive the car again. “Look at you getting all soft on EJ. You gonna beg him to fuck you too?” Jeff huffed, jealousy radiating off of his skin. You turned to him, climbing over him and straddling his lap. Your hand flew to his throat, squeezing the sides like your life depended on it. “If you keep yapping we are never going to get home. Shut up,” You snarled. You could feel Jeff’s cock grow hard underneath you, your eyebrows raising. “Say please and i’ll shut up,” Jeff said, his voice husky. You couldn’t decide if it was because of his lust or lack of an airway.

You most certainly did not want to say please to Jeff of all people, but you did want to get home. More than anything. You slowly lowered your hips, grinding against Jeff’s aching boner. “Please,” You say softly, meeting his obsidian eyes. The pale killer quickly flipped you over, planting his lips on yours. You could hardly process your back hitting the backseat, the air being knocked out of your lungs. You struggled to keep up with his frantic kisses, as if he just couldn’t get enough of you. His pale hands slipped under your shirt, squeezing your mounds of needy flesh.

You let out a small groan, Jeff’s obsidian eyes temporarily torn away from you. “EJ if I catch you looking back here i’ll scoop out your eyes,” Jeff threatened. There was a brief silence in the car, before Jack turned on his blinker to turn. “I don’t have eyes Jeff,” He replied blandly. Jeff squeezed at your breast harder, the pain making you squirm. “Yeah yeah you get the point,” Jeff barked. He smashed his lips back onto yours, your fingers desperately fiddling with his jeans. “That desperate huh doll?” He snickered. You rolled your eyes, Jeff forcing a groan from your lips as his finger toyed with your nipple.

“Thats it, such pretty noises. Let it all out,” He mocked. He helped you shove off his jeans, his hand grasping his hard cock. Jeff buried his head in your neck, sucking and lapping at your sensitive skin. The two of you were whimpering messes, completely forgetting Jack was even there. “Don’t leave marks you asshole,” You whined, your hips rolling upwards. Jeff grinned devilishly as he released your neck with a pop. “Little too late. Good luck explaining that,” He argued. You ran your thumb over his slit, the pale killer above letting out a groan. You grabbed him by his hoodie, changing the position.

Jeff sat upwards in the backseat, watching as you scrubbed your blood soaked scrubs off. You straddled Jeff, melting into the kiss as his large hands grabbed your ass. You hated how good he made you feel. His wet you got from his touch and degrading words. How divine it felt that your slick was rubbing up and down his hard cock, and all you could want was more. He slapped your ass harshly, your whine quickly swallowed by his eager lips. You hovered over his cock, before slowly sinking down onto it. You let out a string of curses, a cocky smirk dancing across Jeff’s lips.

“Go on, let EJ know how good I made you feel,” Jeff purred. Your right hand flew to his neck, choking the sides as you sank down lower onto his cock. “Shut the fuck up Jeffrey,” You argued weakly. Your walls spasmed as you struggled to accommodate his size, your drenched cunt pulling him in. Jeff’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as you choked him, the pale killer in more pleasure than he’d let on. “Look at Jeff EJ, look at how much of a pathetic fucktoy he is for me,” You huffed. You sank fully into his cock, the two of you breathing heavily as you finally made eye contact. Jeff’s hand brought itself to your throat, the two of you choking the other.

“Get on with it or i’ll bend you over and give Jacky a real show,” Jeff threatened weakly. You rose your hips, before rolling them back down on his cock. You both let out a unison of groans, your body beginning to ride his shaft faster. You released his throat, grabbing handfuls of his hoodie to maintain balance. “F-fuck Jeff,” You whined. His cock was abusing your g spot perfectly, your body on cloud nine. Jeff released your throat, bringing his large hand to your cheek. “Thats it doll, keep making that stupid fucked out face of yours,” He huffed. His other hand strayed from your ass, slithering to your clit. He began to draw slow circles, your brain turning to mush.

“Fucking hell- please go faster,” You pleaded. Jeff brought his forehead to yours, the two of you moaning in unison as you shamelessly rode his cock. Your knuckles were turning white from gripping his hoodie so hard. It was then the killer began fucking up into you, your moans becoming louder and unhinged. “Jeff! Shit!” You moaned. Jeff stroked your cheek with his thumb, the loving action almost making you furrow your eyebrows in questioning. But he seemed content and you couldn’t deny your enjoyment. “I hate you Jeffrey Woods,” You hissed, hating the way your body was reacting to his.

“I hate you more dollface,” He seethed, both of his hands grabbing your waist. Jeff gripped your waist so tightly you knew you’d have bruises in the morning. “I hate the air you breathe,” You argued. Jeff’s thrust into you, knocking your next insult out of your lungs. “Yeah? I hate how good you feel wrapped around my cock,” Jeff panted. You could feel the cord in your stomach tightening, your thighs beginning to shake. You brought your fingers down to your clit, circling the sensitive bud as Jeff rammed into you. “I hate you,” You moaned, throwing your head back in pleasure.

Jeff grabbed your throat, forcing you to look at him as you both reached your highs. “I hate you too, slut,” He spat. His words sent you over the edge, your walls spasming around his cock as you came. “Jesus fuck, it’s like you’re milking me,” He groaned, cumming deep inside of your cunt. You both panted in unison, trying to come down from your highs. Exhausted, you rested your head against Jeff’s shoulder.

Jacks voice was the next thing you heard as you came down, “You two need fucking therapy.”

#jeff the killer x y/n #jeff the killer x you #jeff the killer x reader #jeff the killer x eyeless jack #eyeless jack x jeff the killer #jeff the killer smut #jeff the killer #creepypasta x y/n #creepypasta x female reader #creepypasta x you #creepypasta lemon #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta smut #creepypasta

[sixosix]

no one's ever had me, not like you

timeskip!hinata shoyo x reader

“Are you really sure that you’re swearing off of dating?”

You wonder how many times you’ll be asked that before you finally get pressured into mingling just to get them off your back. But Akane, bless her heart, looks genuinely concerned, like choosing to stay single was a cruel fate she wouldn’t wish for anyone to bear.

“It’s not a big deal,” you tell her. “Dating’s just not for me.”

You think back to all your previous relationships, and find that you have never been more sure of your decision.

“It just means you haven’t found the right one!” To your left, Yuki, who is alarmingly a lot of shots in, exclaims. She becomes violent when drunk. You would know, your arm is starting to turn red from her smacking when laughing.

You shrug uncomfortably. “I’m not looking for any right one.”

Akane and Yuki share a glance.

“Well, if you say so,” Akane cedes.

Then Yuki slams her hands on the table as she bolts upright, expression grave and voice low as she says, “We’re doing it, though, right?”

You laugh under your breath. Yuki looks a little ridiculous, drunk, and swaying on her feet even when standing still. Her grip on her glass wavers, and you quickly pluck it from her grasp, ignoring her protesting wail.

Akane brightens. “Yes! Of course we’re doing it!”

You instead hand Yuki a glass of water. “Doing what? Are you two up to no good again?”

“Yes!” Yuki exclaims at the same time Akane calmly clarifies, “Noya’s inviting close friends out for dinner tomorrow.” Which makes sense, because they were pretty much the same thing.

“Oh! Nishinoya’s back?”

“Just arrived today! He said he’s visiting for a while.” Akane fishes out her phone from her hand, then pulls out the class’s group chat that you could never bring yourself to check ever since it hit 999+ notifications. It displays a picture of Nishinoya holding up a peace sign, face serious, and next to a large airport sign.

You hum thoughtfully. “I guess if you guys are coming…”

“Let’s go!” Yuki pumps her fists in the air. Akane smiles and tells her to settle down. Akane drank twice as many shots than her.

“Who else is coming?” You ask. “I might pass if it’s the entire school.”

“Noya’s not that wild. I heard it’s just his volleyball team, Ryuunosuke, and us,” Akane says. “I heard they’re also celebrating because Noya’s treating his kouhai’s return from Brazil.”

“Brazil?” The other side of the world! “Yuu and his friends sure are adventurous,” you remark in amusement, sipping idly on your own drink. It’s milder than either of theirs since you were assigned as the designated driver.

“You’ve heard of the guy. Hinata Shoyo, I think it was.”

You inhale your drink and start heaving. Akane’s hands flutter all over you in panic while Yuki descends in deep thought.

Yuki snapped her fingers. “Oh, right! Wasn’t that the first year who had a big crush on you when we were in second year? Noya’s favorite kouhai, Shoyo.”

Hinata Shoyo.

The first time you met Hinata Shoyo was when Nishinoya decided to invite close friends to watch them play. It was an ordinary day, and they had just come back from the Interhigh preliminaries. Their coach agreed to let them take it slow and relax, so Noya used it as an opportunity to invite his friends (it was just you who was free) to watch (read: to show off).

Having nothing better to do during club hours, you agreed.

You were late, stuck with cleaning duty, and forced to catch up to Noya, who had first wheeled into the volleyball gymnasium. The door was shut. You took deep, deep breaths before sliding it open and nearly having your face flattened by a volleyball speeding towards you.

Well, of course, it was a volleyball gymnasium.

Luckily, you managed to swerve out of the way and prevent long-lasting damage to your face. But the shock was more brutal than the would-be impact. You gaped at the ball that rolled onto the grass miles away. Just how fast was that thing?

“Y/N!” Nishinoya’s voice rang throughout the stunned silence of the gym.

Your head whipped around just in time to see a little guy with a mop of orange hair bound over to you.

“Sorry! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry—-” He then looked up at you, now only inches away, and seemed to have run out of apologies. His face exploded in a bright shade of red, but his eyes looked like they were bluescreening.

“Oh, don’t worry. It’s fine!” You wave your hand to dismiss his guilt. “I didn’t actually get hit. Well—almost. But I didn’t! That was amazingly fast!” You hoped the praise would snap him out of it, but he was still gaping at you like you’d grown two heads. Or maybe you had something on your face?

Nishinoya comes barreling over soon enough, brows furrowed. “Y/N! Are you okay? You could’ve died!”

You frowned. “Idiot. I’m not going to die from that.”

Your statement seemed to shatter the tension that froze everyone in place. The captain murmured for them to continue practicing as Noya fluttered all over you like a mother hen, insisting on an ice pack.

Tanaka materialized out of nowhere. “Y/N! It’s you!”

“Ryuu!” You exclaim in delight, returning his hug. “Ryuu, it’s nice to see you again!”

Nishinoya turned to the tiny redhead with a raised eyebrow. “You good, Shoyo?”

Shoyo finally flinched out of his daze, narrowly avoiding your curious eyes. “Y-Yes! I’m just—I’ll go get the ball!” he squeaked out, nearly tripping over his own feet on a flat surface.

Nishinoya snorted, sharp eyes following Shoyo. “I think he has a crush on you.”

Tanaka cackled. “No way! Is that why Hinata looks so constipated?”

Hinata Shoyo. You glanced back just in time to catch him fumbling with the volleyball, trembling like a frightened mouse. It’s cute.

Now, you can confidently state that Hinata Shoyo is no longer just cute. Five years later, July, in an unsuspecting get-together party hosted by Nishinoya, and Hinata Shoyo definitely isn’t the same as before.

“Everyone!” Nishinoya’s voice bellows out throughout the venue. For such a small guy, he has the voice of a booming speaker. “Everyone, quiet! Shoyo’s here!”

Choruses of Hinata! echo through everyone as the crowd dispersed and bounded over to where Nishinoya was. You hear a faint laugh and a “Thank you!” From here, you could tell that his voice had gotten deeper. Still light and high, but it was different from the squeakiness you remembered.

Ever since finding out that Hinata had been back from Brazil, it turns out that his grand debut in the Nationals was aired all over. He’s famous now, not just some kid in Karasuno’s Volleyball Club.

“Ooh,” Yuki giggles maniacally. She hasn’t drunk anything yet. “He’s here. Do you think he still has a crush on you?”

“I doubt it. It was probably because I was his senpai back then. Remember how you reacted to Daichi-san visiting our hall? Everyone in our class was swooning, especially the boys!”

“Something about volleyball players, I tell you,” Yuki says, her gaze drifting over to where Akane was giggling as she talked with them. “Hmm. Speaking of them, I think one of them is on his way here.”

“What?”

Yuki takes one last sip of her tequila shot and leaves without another word. You didn’t have to turn—didn’t even have to move. You can feel his presence the moment he is right behind you, like a burst of warmth hovering, but it’s gold and bright, so you’re not terrified

Hinata Shoyo sits beside you, asking for a drink. You can’t help but stare.

He turned to you, then seemed to do a double take. Hinata Shoyo—now built twice as big as he once was; no longer the cute, lanky, and short kouhai from your past; with neatly trimmed hair and a much deeper voice—stares at you in astonishment. Hinata Shoyo emits a wordless exclamation.

“Senpai!” he exclaims in disbelief.

“Hinata,” you laugh softly, fondly. “We’re not in high school anymore. I’m pretty sure we’re the same age. You can just call me Y/N.”

“Y-You—” He splutters, face tinged pink despite the untouched shot in front of him. “Thanks!”

“You’re welcome.” You smile, tilting your head and grinning wider at the way his eye catches on the curve of your neck. “So, how have you been?”

He forgets about the drink he just ordered, seemingly getting redder in the face as you inch closer. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve assumed he was drunk. Hinata Shoyo grins sheepishly, blushing and looking beautiful under the dim lighting of the venue.

Swearing off of dating, hmm… 

You consider him—his bright eyes, his wide and ever-genuine smile, and his undivided attention on you. Does he still have a crush on you? Or was it just the surprise that had him so flustered? You throw your head back and gulp down a shot, ignoring the burn that slid down your throat. You suppose there was no harm in finding out.

#haikyuu x reader #hinata shoyo x reader #hinata shoyo x you #hinata shouyou x reader #shoyo hinata x reader #haikyuu imagines

[silverwhittlingknife]

So you're a go to source for all things Dick&Tim bros and you tend to write primarily from Dick's POV. So, odd question, but if you were to summarize their relationship from his POV in FIVE panels which panels would you pick? Keeping in mind that one specific aspect of their relationship that you love needs to be clearly represented by each panel (loyalty, trust etc). I hope this is a fun challenge and not an annoying question so if you don't want to answer that's cool! Have a wonderful day!

No more talk. The same thoughts run through two minds... (SotB 29) / You're my equal. My closest ally. (RR 1) / I can't stop thinking how much I rely on him. (GoG 3)

25 Feelings Dick Has About Tim

This was such a kind ask & a cool challenge which I totally failed; here are TWENTY-five panels of Dick's POV on Tim sdfdsfds Look, I got carried away! Marcia and Cindy! The boys!!

OKAY SO BEFORE I GET TO THE PANELS A FEW NOTES:

WARNING THAT THERE ARE SOME NEGATIVE EMOTIONS IN HERE because I love conflict but but but you gotta remember those are not the final word!! They are complicated people and sometimes they get mad at each other BUT ultimately their relationship is so hugely important in both their lives & they love each other and rely on each other so much -!!! <3

Also I have CONCLUDING THOUGHTS at the end about what Dick's POV leaves out (mostly: a lot of Dick defending & protecting & supporting Tim, which Dick does instinctively but isn't very self-aware about most of the time)

I have loosely organized my list into 5^5 format (5 categories with 5 examples each!), so if you want to skip to a relevant one, here are the categories!!

Below the cut:

I hate him and find him infuriating (#1-5)

On second thought, he's endearing & fun (#6-10)

Grief is complicated & he's all tangled up in mine (#11-15)

I love him & think highly of him (#16-20)

I rely on him & though it's hard for me, I trust him (#21-25)

Final thoughts, a.k.a. if you ask Dick to tell you about Tim, you will be there all day and he will never once mention any of the times he saved Tim's life because they will genuinely not occur to him

I hate him and find him infuriating (#1 - 5)

1) He thinks he’s so smart and can psychoanalyze me and Bruce, but he doesn’t know me at all, he should get lost (New Titans 61)

2) He thinks he’s so smart and can psychoanalyze Bruce but he doesn’t know Bruce at all, he should get lost (Gotham Knights 26)

3) He is so nosy about stuff that is MY business (Robin 0)

4) He sounds like an insincere suck-up half the time... but okay, fine, if you push him he's got a sense of humor about it (New Titans 65)

5) I'm sure he's a better vigilante than me. It's my fault for being a failure, but I resent him anyway. (Nightwing 9 - Dick's having a nightmare)

On second thought, he's kinda endearing (#6-10)

6) He worries too much and gets anxious so easily, but it makes him fun to tease (Robin 67)

7) I'm not that competitive - okay, so maybe I'm a little competitive, I gotta make sure he doesn't get a swelled head (Prodigal)

8) I'm supposed to be his favorite! It is not cool for him to be fanboying over my not-girlfriend's not-boyfriend!! (Birds of Prey 19)

9) We have fun together. I can kick back and relax when it's just the two of us. Plus I get to boss him around a bit. (Prodigal)

10) He’s always trying to reassure me, and I guess it's a little comforting, but also he doesn’t really get it. Or me. He makes excuses that he shouldn't, because he doesn't understand that I suck. (Nightwing 64)

Grief is complicated and he's all tangled up in mine (#11 - 15)

11) He reminds me of everything I try not to think about. Sometimes the memories are so strong it hurts to look at him. (Batman 441)

12) WHY IS HE BEING IMPOSSIBLE ALL OF A SUDDEN??? THIS IS SO FRUSTRATING (Nightwing 139)

13) We're the same. He says all the things I don't let myself think about. It's like arguing with myself. (Nightwing 139)

14) He thinks he gets to tell me what to do but he doesn’t, fuck him (Battle for the Cowl)

15) Life sucks, so what. I sucked it up so he should too (RR 1)

I love him and think highly of him (#16 - 20)

16) He’s the closest thing to a brother I’ll ever have.  If someone hurts him I will hurt them harder. (Nightwing 6)

17) I can't handle the idea of losing him. (Nightwing 97)

17) He’s so good and I’m not. I'm afraid I’m bad for him. (Nightwing 110)

18) He’s better than me, and it’s kind of a relief because I know no matter what he’ll be okay. (Gates of Gotham 3)

19) In my head he’s the responsible one.  (Gotham Knights 10)

I rely on him, and though it's hard for me, I trust him (#20-25)

20) I know I have to trust him but I'm afraid he'll make the wrong choices and get hurt (Nightwing 139)

21) I'm sure I know what he should do because I see myself in him - not that I can take my own advice, but he should (Blackest Night 3)

22) I trust him.  When I’m losing my grip on things, he pulls me back. (Gotham Knights 10)

23) I want him to trust me (Red Robin 12)

24) He can tell when I'm lying. Sometimes he sees my weaknesses better than I wish he did. (Detective Comics 874)

25) He’s always there when I need him. (Teen Titans / Outsiders Secret Files)

Final rambling thoughts:

TIM: Uhh, okay, so I'm just skimming this list - do you really trust me? you're not just saying that? - but anyway, I'm confused because you left some stuff out? Like some stuff that's kinda important? DICK: No? I think I got everything? TIM (starts counting on his fingers): The time I was having a bad day but then I called you. The time I got captured by Two-Face but then you saved me. The time I fell off a train but then you saved me. The time I fell off a building but then you saved me. The time I fell off a different building - DICK: I feel like you're trying to make some kind of point but I'm not sure what it could be.

SO THE THING IS, I put 25 panels in here and not a single one has Dick catching Tim when he’s falling!!! But I think that's a central motif of their relationship from Tim’s POV, not Dick’s. I love Dick, but in some ways I think he is spectacularly un-self-aware.

And I think he especially has a lot of blind spots about Tim. He kinda intermittently gets that Tim admires him, and he enjoys it in a playful I-get-to-boss-you-around way. But Dick tends to consistently underestimate all of his own good qualities & skills, and he meets Tim at a point in his life when he's especially down on himself & his abilities. And so he's unable to see his own influence on Tim, & therefore unable to fully understand a lot of Tim's priorities and loyalties and motivations, because you can't actually understand Tim without understanding Dick's impact on him. There's a fascinating moment in Bruce Wayne: Murderer when Dick's completely blindsided & upset to discover that Tim doesn't entirely trust Bruce, even though this has been a definitive fact of Tim's whole thing ever since he showed up with his Batman needs Robin theory, and Barbara has to actively remind Dick of the obvious-to-everyone-except-Dick fact that a lot of Tim's loyalty is to Dick, and Tim loves Bruce but feels free to be more wary of him. (And to give Bruce credit: this is not something he ever begrudges.) But anyway Babs points this out, and Dick manages to sorta process it for about five seconds, but he cannot actually accept it into his worldview so instead he discards it at the speed of light and goes off and has an argument with Tim instead sdfsfdsf

All of Dick's virtues - Dick's kindness at the circus and Dick's determination to fight through grief and Dick's rigid sense of morals and Dick's vigilante skills and every time Dick has ever backed Tim up or listened to him or protected him or saved him from something or just been casually kind to a stranger in Tim's presence etc etc etc - all these things loom really large in Tim's mental story of Who Dick Is, and What Dick And Tim's Relationship Is. Tim meets Dick before he meets Bruce, trusts Dick more than Bruce, aspires to be Robin instead of Batman. And so in Tim's default version of the story, Dick is the super-special and admirable hero and Tim is... nobody in particular, a tagalong outsider who's barely managing to be a hero, not part of Dick and Bruce's family and not part of their story, who, if he's VERY LUCKY and tries REALLY HARD, might be able to fight his way to proving himself and offering something to Dick that Dick will value, if Dick doesn't get fed up with him first.

But that's not Dick's version of the story!!!

Dick's version of the story is almost the exact opposite, a story where Dick's an outcast failure black sheep who's screwing up everything he tries, and meanwhile Tim is The Sudden New Perfect Robin Who's Better Than Me And Probably Bruce Loves Him More And Probably They Gossip About What A Loser I Am, mixed with a complicated edge of Tim Thinks He's So Smart But He Doesn't Know Me/Us At All. Dick gets much more attached to Tim over time, and Tim gets unnervingly better at the know-it-all psychoanalysis so then Dick gets to have complicated feelings about him being right instead of just annoyance at him for being wrong, plus Dick's relationship with Bruce improves a lot, so Tim stops feeling so threatening. But Dick never fundamentally changes his basic theory of their relationship in which Tim is highly impressive and capable, and Dick is not so much.

And so asking Dick about Tim is kinda like if you asked George Bailey to tell you about Harry Bailey in It's A Wonderful Life; like, you'll be there for five hours while he tells you how great Harry is, and how accomplished Harry is, and how he doesn't really get how or why Harry does the things he does, and maybe George does feel a little resentful or jealous sometimes, but that pales in comparison to all his admiration and trust for Harry who he loves so much, who's better than him in so many ways, and he's not gonna openly gripe but secretly he can't help but feel sometimes like he's such a failure in comparison to Harry, a perfect person who emerged fully formed from Zeus's head with all the virtues and also all the accomplishments, etc. etc. etc. --

-- and he will not actually remember the part where he changed and saved Harry's whole entire life unless you literally send him to an alternate timeline in order to force him to remember it. <3

#i enjoyed thinking about this so much i wrote a novel with All My Thoughts sorry sdfsdfs #tim drake #dick grayson #somewhat tangential but as i was writing this i was thinking about zahri's post #about how different types of stories offer different kinds of emotional payoffs #and i think for me for dick and tim the main two payoffs are: #1) someone who sees & understands your grief for deaths that will never get fixed or get better #and who will face your ghosts with you EVEN WHEN you're also mad at each other #2) someone who you look at and you see all the ways that you suck & he's better & you're a loser who's failed him etc etc #but it turns out that you're wrong. that you're good enough. not that none of the failures were real or that they were all in your head #but it turns out that it's okay that you didn't always immediately do or feel the right thing #and it's okay that you weren't perfect. you can fuck up six thousand ways & everything you did right will still matter #not because of making excuses or allowances or somebody pityingly trying to make you feel better #but because in the end the things you did right are just Genuinely More Valuable than anything you did wrong #all the times you tried & everything that you tried to give - everything you think wasn't good enough - it was. #IN OTHER WORDS they are both convinced they're not good enough & they are both wrong <3 #anyway dick and tim are both INCREDIBLY SIMILAR and also CONSTANTLY misreading each other and i love that for them #and like. they will sometimes totally misread each other & then never figure out the part that they misunderstood #but then they manage to keep going anyway. we love each other on purpose <333 #ask tag #dick&tim

[aphel1on]

the longer i look at this panel the more deranged i feel about it. this is environmental storytelling at its finest.

the eodio stand-in doll in particular makes me crazy. where did it come from? did thistle just pop into the village like "hey ungrateful wretches, one of you needs to make me a life-sized mannequin, For Reasons". did he make it himself? seems unlikely, yet the possibility haunts me. i mean, i guess there could've been one just lying around the dungeon somewhere. (but where'd he get the replica eodio hat?)

both the wives are there too. we know very little about them, which makes me tend to assume thistle wasn't all that close to them, but they're still included. when did they end up here? did he kick their souls out of their bodies at some point, or were they among those who left their bodies voluntarily to try and escape? when did yaad become an effective orphan, delgal an effective widower? women in the margins of the narrative, tell me your stories!

and the fact that they're surrounded with the living paintings, which thistle habitually wanders through to relive the past. this truly is his inner sanctum, his place of utmost comfort... and it may as well be a tomb.

that panel is so creepy when you first see it. just a sense of "ohh jeez, there's a lot to unpack there".

and actually, yeah, it remains creepy from pretty much any angle, but the more you think about it the more it's also tragic.

this is where many of thistle's happiest moments took place. everything he had in that picture is now gone. first he lost their warm regard, then one-by-one their bodies became hollow shells. before the end, none of the people here needed or enjoyed food anymore. the dinner table, as a center of both family life and nutrition, became obsolete.

a line from someone else's excellent post about thistle has stuck in my head ever since i read it: "to eat is to live, but to eat together is to be loved". to me, this is the sentiment and symbolism at the core of everything that happens in dungeon meshi.

it makes this bit all the sadder and more disturbing.

there's several things to note here:

thistle has gone from seated and eating with them as part of the family, to a lonely and ominous figure hovering over delgal's shoulder

eodio is conspicuously absent from view, and his body would have been a husk by now, but yaad says parents, which forces me to assume that they are sitting at the table with eodio's soulless body, hidden under yaad's speech bubble

they're not actually eating anything.

those plates are empty. you could assume that they've already finished eating, maybe, but yaad refers to it as sitting around the dinner table. in fact, he compares it to what he's currently doing; sitting at the dinner table watching the touden party eat, not eating anything himself.

it paints a pretty grim picture. for some time even after the fantasy had fallen apart, even after there was no need or desire to eat, they kept gathering around the dinner table. at that point, i'd guess only so as not to provoke thistle's wrath.

but even that last happened a long, long time ago.

this is a callback to what senshi said in the golden kingdom: the reason the people keep maintaining their fields and silverware and so forth is that they need to do so in order to stay sane.

paradoxically, the dinner table is the most striking evidence of thistle's insanity, and at the same time, it's the only anchor to sanity he has left.

he kept enforcing the ritual of dinner together long after it lost significance. when even that was impossible- because almost everyone's souls were gone- he kept their bodies at the table anyway. it's fine. it's fine! he's protected them, physically, just like he set out to. they're all still breathing. at a glance it looks like they could wake up and resume dinner at any moment. like this, it's easy to pretend.

isn't that what being a dungeon lord is, at the core of it? rejecting reality, staying in the prison of one's impossible desires. it's just one long game of pretend.

thistle did all this to protect his loved ones. no matter how obsessive and twisted he became in pursuit of that over the years, his core motivation never changed. this is all he has left of that dream: his loved ones' bodies gathered around the locus of their happiest memories together. like this, he can tell himself he's succeeded.

when eodio's body vanished with delgal's soul in it- when he couldn't even have that anymore... well.

i want to reach through the screen and shake him. no, they're not, thistle. THISTLE, NO, THEY'RE NOT! the doll of eodio is the closest thing to him in this panel, underlining the point. when that final illusion was shattered, he became completely unable to cope with reality.

therefore replacing eodio with a creepy doll and casually forgetting it isn't real.

thistle isn't stupid. eodio's body vanished at the same time as delgal's soul. shortly after, more adventurers came pouring in than ever before. deep down, he knows what happened. if he didn't, being confronted with the truth by mithrun wouldn't have made him panic so hard he summoned chimera falin to the first floor.

yet still...

he absolutely can't admit that to himself. he is clinging to the last scraps of the illusion with everything he has.

this is a dungeon lord at the end of desire. this is a lotus-eater machine left running long after its conclusion. this is mithrun lying listlessly in his bed, his replica lover having given up any pretense of being human. the illusion is all that's left. (an illusion is all it ever was.) thistle and the citizens of the golden kingdom- they're ghosts just as much as the ones who wander the dungeon floors. and if it weren't for thistle sealing the lion away, he would've been eaten by it long ago.

all of this encapsulated by that single panel of the dinner table.

#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi spoilers #thistle #delgal #yaad #eodio #winged lion #meta #long post #aphelion.txt #dunmeshi #sorry. ​i am so incredibly not normal about any of it