#Anger Release Machine

[zegalba]

Katja Kublitz: Anger Release Machine (2008)

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Hi, there! I've seen you're asking for some Thunderbolts requests, so: what about the reader and Bob having to share a bed during a mission, having both big crushes for each other? No pressure at all, only if you like the idea ☺️ thank you!!

a/n: Ah yes the one bed trope, one i love reading but never got around to writing. Okay so i didn't know if you wanted it to be a smut but i ended making it one 😬 hope that's okay. Also thanks for the request and enjoy!

Bob Reynolds X Reader: No room for secrets.

Warnings: smut, one bed trope, mutual pinning, forced proximity, wet dream, injuries (not graphic), kissing, Bob being a sweetheart, penetration (p in v ), cowgirl, handjob, kind of subby Bob, fluff, cute ending, no use of y/n.

Word count: 4.3K (i am so fucking sorry)

You were going to kill Valentina.

You’d stumbled into the room, half-walking, half-dragging yourself inside. The mission you'd just finished had been successful, but you didn’t get out completely unscathed. You felt like shit, and all you wanted to do was lie down and pass out.

And you were planning to—until you saw your room.

You and Bob always shared a room. It was just how things ended up being organized. Ava and Yelena got a room, Bucky and John shared another, and Alexei slept alone—because the Russian's snores made it impossible for anyone else to fall asleep in the same room. That left you paired up with Bob. It didn’t bother you. Bob was sweet and quiet. He kept to himself and didn’t talk in his sleep. He was practically the perfect roommate.

The only thing was that you each slept in your own twin bed. Space and privacy—well, as much privacy as you could get while sharing a room.

You stared at the queen bed in front of you, doing your best not to let your face show how pissed you were. You were failing miserably, of course. Anyone who walked into the room could tell you were angry.

You turned to face the door just as Bob walked in. He had a bag of chips in his hand, which told you he’d stopped to raid the snack machine on the way. He walked in, a small smile gracing his features.

And then he noticed your expression, and his smile shifted into a look of confusion.

You didn’t even bother saying anything, opting instead to just point at the bed. Bob moved closer to you, the bed finally coming into his line of sight. It took him a moment to realize the problem, his eyebrows rising as he finally understood the issue.

You sighed. You needed to calm down before doing anything else. Poor Bob wasn’t the subject of your anger, so you weren’t going to make him a victim of it.

“I need a shower,” you muttered, moving to grab your bag from the floor. “We can figure this out after we clean up, okay?”

You turned to Bob, who was still staring at the bed. He looked at you and gave a small nod.

“O-okay.”

You took your sweet time in the shower. Washing off the grime from the mission was easy; the problem was the thousands of little cuts and bruises littered all over your body. Every movement hurt a bit, and the soap stung wherever it found your skin. Still, you managed to get cleaned up.

You walked out of the bathroom, releasing a wave of steam as you stepped back into the room. Bob was sitting in the armchair, eyes glued to the TV as he finished his chips.

“Bathroom’s free. If you wanna clean up.”

Bob shifted his focus to you as soon as he heard your voice. He stared for a moment. You kept patting your hair dry with the towel as he observed you.

Bob couldn’t help but notice how pretty you looked. You were in what he guessed were your pajamas, your hair still damp from the shower, beads of water sliding down your skin. It felt awfully… homey, seeing you like this. So casual. So close. He was having a hard time stopping his mind from spinning a thousand scenarios of what it would be like to be with you—really be with you.

“Bob?”

You tilted your head slightly, your voice laced with a light note of concern. He’d been staring too long, and the questioning tone made it clear you’d noticed.

He shook his head, forcing himself back to the present.

“Sorry. My mind was somewhere else.”

“It’s okay. I left enough warm water for you. And there’s an extra towel by the sink.”

Bob’s heart fluttered at the thought that you’d cared enough to make sure he could have a warm shower—and had even laid out a towel for him. He stood, brushing crumbs off his lap before heading to the bathroom. You watched him disappear behind the door, and only then did you let out a breath. That look he’d given you… It wasn’t nothing. It couldn’t be.

You picked up the remote leaning on the edge of the bed as you flipped through the channels. Your head snapped over to the bathroom as you heard the shower come to life. Your eyes continued glued to the door for a moment, the documentary about baby otters suddenly forgotten. your mind kept drifting to Bob, standing just a few feet away, behind a thin door. Wet. Shirtless.

You sighed, shaking your head, forcing yourself to focus on the tv before you. You remembered you needed to pass some medicine in the worse cuts you’d gotten so you bussied yourself with that. 

The water shut off after a while. You tried very hard not to glance up every time a sound came from the bathroom, tried not to count how long it was taking him to come out.

Then the door creaked open.

And there he was.

Bob stepped out, steam curling around his tall frame, hair damp and tousled, cheeks still flushed from the heat of the shower. He wore nothing but a towel slung low around his waist, clinging to his hips in a way that felt... unfair.

Bob lifted his eyes from the floor, expecting to find you dressed and relaxing on the bed.

He was not expecting what he saw instead.

You were shirtless, hands resting on your ribs, mouth slightly parted as you looked up at him. He froze mid-step, caught off guard, eyes dragging across your bare skin before he could stop himself.

You stared too—eyes tracing the lines of his body, still damp, still only wrapped in a towel.

And then, almost simultaneously, you both seemed to snap out of it.

You scrambled to cover yourself, suddenly realizing how exposed you were. Bob’s eyes widened as color flooded his cheeks. He turned sharply, head ducking as he tried to look anywhere but at you.

“Oh—sorry,” he blurted out, gripping the towel tighter with one hand. “I, uh, forgot my clothes in my bag. Wasn’t expecting you to be…”

His voice trailed off again as his gaze accidentally flicked back to you. He immediately dropped his eyes to the floor.

“You’re fine,” you said quickly, though your throat felt bone-dry. Your heart was pounding way too loud in your ears.

In your hand, the medicine tube you'd been holding slipped slightly as you clenched your fingers too tightly around it. A glob of the ointment squirted out and plopped onto the floor. Bob made his way to his bag as you let out a soft curse moving to scoop it up with your finger. Behind you, you heard the faint rustle of fabric as he changed, and you bit the inside of your cheek to keep your expression neutral.

“Do you need any?”

“Sorry—what?”

Bob turned to look at you, realizing you were carefully keeping your back to him as he changed.

“I’m dressed,” he said gently. “You can turn around.”

You glanced over your shoulder, your eyes immediately catching on Bob’s still very bare abs. He wasn’t wearing a shirt—but then, he never did when he slept. He ran hot, so he opted for fewer layers. You knew that from all the nights you'd shared a room with him. It had never been an issue before.

But now, the idea of lying next to him, just inches away from that warm skin, was going to be a problem.

“Are there any cuts that need ointment?” you asked, mostly to distract yourself.

“Oh, no, I…” He trailed off mid-sentence, looking a little sheepish. “I don’t get cut.”

You shook your head at yourself. Right. Of course he didn’t. He was incredibly powerful, despite having the most innocent face you’d ever seen. You were so used to looking out for him, you sometimes forgot he could bend metal with his bare hands.

“Sorry, I forgot.”

“You don’t need to apologize. It’s… nice. That you, you know—” he shrugged slightly “—that you care enough to ask.”

“Of course I do, Bob. You’re my teammate. I want to make sure you’re taken care of.”

Bob desperately needed you to stop talking to him like that. The warmth in your voice, the way you said his name—it was doing things to his head. Dangerous things. He gave you a small smile, his eyes drifting over your skin almost unconsciously.

You felt his gaze like a physical thing—soft, warm, reverent. You weren’t even sure he realized how he was looking at you, but it was doing things to you. Things it probably shouldn’t.

“You have one on your back.”

You blinked, needing a second to catch up.

“I do?”

You tried to twist around and look, searching for the injury.

“You probably can’t see it,” Bob said. “It’s like… right in the middle of your back.”

He opened his mouth, hesitated, then pushed himself to keep talking.

“I can get it for you. If you want.”

You couldn’t help the soft smile that tugged at your lips. Oh, this man is going to be the death of me.

“That’d be great, Bob. Thank you.”

You handed him the medicine and turned around. Bob squeezed a little onto his fingers—the cut wasn’t big, so he didn’t need much. Your skin tingled in anticipation as you waited for him to touch you. And when he finally did, you shivered. Partly because his hand was cool against your back and partly because it was him.

Bob’s fingers were gentle, almost too gentle, as he smoothed the ointment over the cut. The pressure was light, careful . His hand lingered a second longer than it needed to.

You felt it.

The pause. The heat.

Your breath caught for just a moment.

Then his fingertips brushed down slightly, like he was checking to make sure the ointment had spread properly. It wasn’t necessary—but he didn’t stop. And neither did you.

Your voice was quiet when you spoke. “You okay back there?”

Bob's hand stilled.

“Yeah,” he said after a beat, his voice softer than usual. “It’s just… hard to focus when you’re this close.”

That pulled your attention.

You turned your head, just slightly—enough to catch the faint flush spreading across his cheeks. His eyes were still on your back, but they kept flicking down, then away, like he couldn’t decide if he was allowed to look.

“We’ve shared rooms before,” you said gently, teasing. “We’ve slept five feet from each other for months.”

“Yeah,” he said, almost laughing. “But never like this.”

“I can take the floor.”

You’d been thinking about it for a while. You didn’t want to sleep on the floor—you wanted to sleep in the soft bed, preferably next to him. But you also wanted to be considerate.

You knew Bob had some issues with physical touch. He wasn’t opposed to it, but sometimes, when you caught him off guard, you’d see the way he flinched slightly—instinctively—before realizing you weren’t going to hurt him. Years of abuse would do that to a person.

Of course, you didn’t say any of this. You didn’t have to. Bob knew exactly why you’d offered. And still, he couldn’t help the warm, fuzzy feeling that filled his chest.

You were always doing stuff like this. Opting to help him out even when you had other things to do. You’d help with the dishes. You’d hang around with him in the living room, even though he was sure you could be using your time much better with training. Every time you could be near him, you chose to be. Bob tried to play it off as just your personality, but a small part of him knew better. 

You weren’t like that with everyone.

You were like that with him.

“I know you like your personal space,” you added softly.

Your words pulled him out of his thoughts. He realized how long he’d been silent, his hand still resting gently against your back. The ointment had been absorbed long ago, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. Couldn’t bring himself to let go.

“I don’t mind,” he said, barely above a whisper. “If we share.”

You closed your eyes, your body relaxing instantly at his words.

You were glad he felt safe with you. You were really glad you wouldn’t be spending the night on the cold floor. You were glad that you’d sleep beside him tonight. It would probably be the last time you’d ever get a chance like this. So yes, maybe a bit selfishly, you were happy  you’d be sharing the bed.

You turned around to face Bob. He shifted his hand down, resting it against his stomach. You took in the look on his face, your eyes trailing from his eyes to his lips, to the flushed skin of his neck. And then you turned to look at the bed, choosing to focus on the task at hand.

“Okay. So how are we doing this?”

It had taken you a total of five minutes to figure everything out. Bob liked sleeping on the left, you liked sleeping on the right—so that was easy. You’d offered to make a pillow wall for Bob’s comfort. He’d told you it wasn’t necessary.

The two of you entered the bed, each settling on your respective side. You lay on your back, staring at the ceiling for a moment. Bob did the same.

A small yawn escaped your mouth before you could stop it. Bob turned his head to look at you, smiling at your sleepy face.

“I’ll get the light.”

You gave him a small smile before turning onto your side.

“Good night, Bob.”

“Good night.”

Darkness took over the room.

Falling asleep was easy for Bob. Keeping his mind clear, on the other hand, was not.

The dream had started simply. He could see your face, a small smile on it as you looked at him. And then it shifted. Your brows furrowed as you let out a soft groan. He was beneath you, hands resting on your hips as you moved. The sight was beautiful. He could live inside this dream.

Unfortunately, his body was beginning to betray him.

You felt him shift before you heard him. You turned your head to glance over your shoulder, eyes catching on Bob’s shaking frame. Your first thought was that he was having a nightmare. You knew it was a common occurrence, so you didn’t startle. You turned around, your hand reaching to touch his shoulder—when he let out a soft whimper of your name.

Your hand froze midair, breath catching.

He said it again. Clearer now.

Bob was dreaming. Dreaming of you. And by the sound of it, the dream was far from innocent.

You wanted desperately to keep listening—but you felt like a creep. So, instead, you gently tugged at him, trying to wake him up.

Bob was pulled out of his dream rather quickly.

He gasped, eyes flying open as he jerked upright. Disoriented, breath shallow, chest rising and falling. His eyes darted around the room until they landed on you—watching him with concern, still half-leaning over him.

“Hey,” you said softly, your hand brushing his arm. “You okay?”

Bob blinked a few times, swallowing hard. His face flushed deep red as memory rushed back in. The dream. Your voice. Your name on his lips.

Oh god.

“I—I’m sorry,” he muttered, sinking back onto the pillow and turning his face toward the wall. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Bob.”

You said his name firmly, gently, and his eyes hesitantly flicked back to you. You didn’t look disgusted. You didn’t look uncomfortable. If anything, you looked…curious. A little breathless.

“It’s okay,” you said. “You were dreaming.”

He nodded, ashamed.

“Was it… about me?”

Bob hesitated, then gave the smallest nod.

You paused. Your heart pounded. And then, barely above a whisper: “Was I… any good?”

That made him look at you. Really look at you. His lips parted, unsure what to say. You were smiling—soft and teasing, but your eyes were serious.

Bob swallowed hard. “Too good,” he said.

And suddenly, you were very aware of how close the two of you were. Of the warmth between you in the bed. Of everything unsaid that had built up over weeks, months. Your hand slid gently onto his chest. You hesitated for a second, eyes boring into Bobs. You could feel his chest rise and fall against your palm. You bit the inside of your cheek, realising that you were really about to do this. 

“Do you want to find out for real?”

Bob's breath caught.

You saw it in the way his lips parted, the way his fingers flexed slightly against the sheets, like he wasn’t sure whether to reach for you or ground himself.

He swallowed thickly. “Are you sure?”

His voice was low, hoarse, barely above a whisper—but it still managed to send a shiver down your spine. You leaned in just a little closer, your lips brushing the shell of his ear as you whispered:

“I wouldn’t be asking if I wasn’t.”

That was all it took.

Bob surged forward, one hand cupping your cheek as his mouth met yours—tentative at first, like he was still afraid you might vanish. But when you kissed him back, firm and hungry, something in him snapped. His hand slid into your hair, the other arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you fully against him. You took the hint, climbing onto his waist as you settled on top of him. Bob whined into the kiss as you grazed his hard on. 

“You’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you?” you whispered against the corner of his mouth.

He gave a soft, embarrassed laugh and nodded, eyes fluttering closed as your hands moved across his stomach. “I—yeah. I didn’t think you’d ever…”

You cut him off with a firmer kiss this time, one hand slipping up to cradle the side of his neck, the other resting just above the waistband of his shorts. 

“You think too much Bob. Just focus on the feeling.”

Your palm slipped inside his shorts and he groaned, head raising up as he did. The action caused his neck to be on full display for you. You took it as an opportunity to kiss him there. Your hand found his dick, fingers moving over the head as you littered his neck with wet kisses. Then slowly you shifted your grip, allowing you to begin stroking him.  

Bob’s breath hitched—sharp and shaky—as your hand moved along his length. He whimpered, his hips bucking ever so slightly against your touch, chasing the friction. You could feel how desperate he already was, how quickly he was unraveling under your attention. It felt better than any drug. The sight of him panting slightly as his brows furrowed made you grind your hips down on him. 

“God—” he gasped, clutching at your waist, trying and failing to keep still beneath you.

The sound caused you to smile.

“Am i as good as you dreamed?”

Bob gaspsed, mind trying to form a coherent thought to answer you.

“So much better.”

“Oh yeah?”

He nodded before letting out a small moan. You shifted around, tugging his dick free from his shorts so you could stroke him better. The cold air on his dick made him shudder but your warm hand dulled the shift slightly. His hands were still on the bed beside him. Almost as if he was afraid to touch you without asking.

“You can touch me too, you know? If you want to.”

That was all he needed. Whatever resistance he had left crumbled at those words. His hands found your thighs, holding you tightly as if he still couldn’t quite believe this was real. You leaned down to kiss him again, slower this time, your hand never faltering in its rhythm. He moaned into your mouth, every sound he made going straight to your core. You rocked against him gently, your own arousal growing with every twitch of his hips beneath you.

“You feel so good,” he murmured against your lips, his voice shaky with awe.

You smiled, brushing your nose gently against his. “You do too,” you whispered. “You’re perfect, Bob.”

His eyes searched yours like he couldn’t quite believe this was real—like any second he expected to wake up. You cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing just under his eye, grounding him.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” you admitted softly, heart fluttering as the words left your mouth. “Not just this—us.”

Bob swallowed hard, hands still resting on your thighs like he was afraid to grab too tight, afraid he’d break the moment. “Me too. God, me too.”

Your breath caught, and you leaned in to kiss him again, slower this time, lingering—like you had all the time in the world. Your hand still stroked him gently, feeling every twitch, every little reaction as you poured everything into that kiss. Bob let out the softest whine, hips jerking involuntarily into your grip. 

“I wanna feel you. Please, I need—”

You shifted your hips, clothed cunt rubbing against your hand and stimulating his dick. 

“You want me to ride you?”

He nodded frantically, his voice nearly gone. 

“Yes. Yes, please.”

You leaned down again, kissing him slow and deep. Then you shifted your hips back, just enough to push your underwear to the side and line yourself up.You both gasped at the feeling, completely overwhelmed. He filled you perfectly, and you stayed still for a moment, letting the warmth of him settle deep inside you.

“You’re so beautiful,” Bob whispered, his thumbs brushing over your skin like he was memorizing you.

You clenched around him, hips begging to quicken their pace. Bob's hands slid up to your waist, holding on like he might float away otherwise. His hips bucked up to meet yours every time you moved. The desperation was growing inside both of you. You wanted to take it slow, wanted to show Bob just how much you felt for him. But the need for him was stronger than you could control. Bob didn’t seem to mind, blabbering beneath you as you sped up. Your hands found their way to his chest, using him as leverage to lift yourself up before dropping down again. Bob groaned, his hands tightening just slightly on your waist. 

“You’re all I ever think about,” he confessed, eyes squeezed shut like the truth hurt in the best way. “Not just like this. Always.”

The words hit you hard in the chest, and your movements stuttered for just a moment. You pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, then his cheek, then his jaw. You were overwhelmed, full to the brim with him—his scent, his voice, his body.

“You’re perfect,” you whispered against his skin. “You’re everything.”

His arms wrapped around you, holding you to him as your bodies moved in tandem. You buried your face in his neck, moaning quietly as each thrust made your core tighten and your breath grow shorter.

You could feel it building—slow and sweet. Not just the orgasm, but everything. The connection, the weight of unspoken feelings, the years of dancing around this. You were both trembling under the intensity.

“I’m close,” you breathed, a little desperate now, your hips moving with more urgency.

“Me too,” Bob gasped, clutching you tighter. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

And you didn’t. You clung to each other like lifelines, chasing the high with trembling hands and whispered names, until it hit—hard and soft at the same time. A release that was more than physical. You came with a cry muffled against his neck, and Bob followed soon after, gasping your name like it was the only thing he knew.

When it was over, you stayed there, pressed together in the quiet, his hands still stroking your back gently, like he couldn’t bear to let go.

You stayed like that for a long time—foreheads pressed together, breaths mingling in the dark. Neither of you said anything at first, too wrapped up in the moment to break it with words. His hands never stopped moving, slow sweeps down your spine like he was trying to soothe you, ground you, or maybe himself.

Eventually, you stirred, gently lifting yourself off him with a soft hiss. Bob held your hips to steady you, eyes filled with concern.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

You nodded, brushing his damp hair back from his forehead. 

“Yeah. Just tender.

He gave you a tired, tender smile that melted something deep inside you. You shifted off to the side, reaching for the blanket to pull over both of you. Bob curled closer instinctively, one arm wrapping around your waist, the other tucking beneath his cheek like a sleepy child. You ran your fingers through his hair, watching his eyes flutter shut, a soft hum of contentment leaving his lips.

“I meant what I said,” he murmured against your shoulder

“Me too.”

He smiled against your skin. 

“Good. 'Cause I think I’m in love with you.”

Your heart skipped, breath catching. You pulled back just enough to look at him. 

“You are?”

He nodded, shy but sure. 

“Yeah. I think I’ve been in love with you since the first time I saw you.”

You smiled, your chest aching in the most beautiful way. “Then we’re in the same boat.”

Relief washed over his face like sunlight breaking through clouds. He leaned in to kiss you again—slow and deep, with nothing rushed or frenzied. Just warmth. Just certainty.

When you finally pulled apart, you tucked yourself into his side, your fingers laced with his beneath the sheets.

And in the quiet stillness of the room, wrapped in the warmth of each other, the weight of everything finally lifted. You both drifted to sleep.

Maybe you wouldn’t kill Valentina after all. Maybe you’d just tell her to book a room with one bed for you and Bob. For future reference. 

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

Restraint | Bucky Barnes x Reader | Oneshot 1.6k

You rush to Bucky's side when he's hit with a a super serum booster out in the field so that you can...take care...of him.

Warnings: 18+ smut, if you're looking for an medical ethics this isn't it, p in v, oral (m recieving), unprotected sex, orgasm denial, dirty talk. Topping from the bottom a bit? Bucky is restrained/slightly subby Bucky if you squint, but also dominant Bucky. Bucky is horny, reader can't help herself and they're both crazy possessive.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and @saradika-graphics

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

“Where is he?”

“Who?” Sam asked, his warning look at Joaquin came too late. 

“Tell me!” You turned on the younger man, “where the fuck have you put him?” 

“He's -”

“No, it's for her own safety,” Sam pulled Joaquin away, trying to dodge around you. 

“Where's Bucky? Tell me - please.” You were desperate, running through the hanger as soon as you heard he'd been hit, you needed to see him- now, needed to know he was okay. 

“I really don't think-”

“Sam I'm going to find him, I don't care if I have to search every inch of this airfield I'll find him. So you might as well just tell me and get it over with.” 

“Fine, but you've gotta leave him to it, he needs to recover and we don't know -”

“Sam!” 

“Upstairs, room 205.” 

You could hear him before you could see him, the sound of metal on metal unmistakable, and then the door to room 205 slammed shut behind a fleeing doctor and his cry of anger was released into the corridor. 

“Bucky?” You pushed the door open again, peering inside. 

“Don't, baby, just go and I'll come to you when -” he cut himself off, thrashing side to side. 

205 was somewhere between an officer's quarters and a hospital room, it was furnished like a bedroom, but away from the mess hall and regular sleeping areas downstairs. You'd expected to see Bucky hooked up to machines, maybe an IV drip, at least a monitor. 

But Bucky was handcuffed to the bed. The vibranium cuffs attached at each corner, spreading his body across the sheets. He’d shed his shirt and leather jacket, but his tactical pants still stretched over his thick thighs, his boots kicking out despite the restraints around his ankles. 

“Bucky, what happened?” 

“Doll, please -” he grit his teeth, jaw ticking, and set his head back on the pillows, “I don't want you to see me like this, go home, I'll come back.”

‘Like this’ was sweating and writhing, veins bulging in his already flexed muscles, sweat forming on his brow. 

“I can't leave you, what happened?” 

“Hit,” he tugged at his bonds again and you noticed red welts forming on his right wrist, "serum booster something, they were trying to - ugh -” he arched up, a vein in his neck pulsing, “enhance, but I - hit. We don't know - ugh - what it will do to me.”

Despite his otherwise out of control appearance, Bucky's blue eyes were clear and pleading. This was painful, you were sure, made worse by his movement in the cuffs. 

“You need to calm down, baby, stop moving.”

“Can't,” he tugged again, rattling the cuffs. 

“Let me help,” you stepped forwarding, shedding the big coat you'd pulled on when you left the house in a hurry. Your nipples pebbled under the flimsy nightdress you'd been wearing when you got the call. Bucky took a deep inhale at the sight. 

“No, no, no - I'm here because I could - fuck, baby, I could hurt someone. I don't wanna hurt you, go - fucking hell you look so damn delicious - go home!” 

But you ignored him. Instead you knelt on the end of the bed and unlaced his tactical boots, sliding them slowly off and setting them to the floor. Bucky kept his eyes squeezed shut. 

It did feel better to have them off though, and he rolled his ankles in relief, despite the cuffs. 

“Better, baby?” Your hand was on his leg and he managed to get out a quick nod before your hand moved higher, higher. He thrashed. 

“Seriously, you have to stop, what if I -” 

“You won't hurt me, you're a good man, Bucky. And look at you.” 

Your hand left his leg, the bed moved and he cracked his eyes open in time to see you settle in his lap. He bucked up, involuntarily he was sure, and revealed in your giggle as you grabbed his tac belt for stability. 

“Hmm, later, Bucky baby. Let me take care of you first.”

Your hands were back, sliding up his chest. He'd put on weight, since moving in with you, coming home to a hot dinner every night, desserts on the weekend, treats on dates. You liked seeing him well and happy. Beneath your hands the feel of his abs was still there, an undeniable strength, but he was so soft too and you loved that about him. The softness that he only shared with you, that he had gained through your love and care.

“Doll-” his warnings were beginning to sound whiny, pleading, and you could feel his familiar hardness growing beneath you now. 

“Just let me look after you,” you repeated, though you weren't sure if this was for him or you.

Your hands grazed higher, over his pecs, brushing your thumbs against his nipples, and up to his tense shoulders. It would hurt, you knew, to have his arms pulled like that. Especially his left, where the vibranium met skin and muscle. You'd massaged that spot enough times to know exactly where to dig your thumbs to make him say - 

“Fuck - I can't -" the cuffs rattled again, his hips driving upwards and knocking you off balance, leaving you in one of your favourite places, sprawled over his chest. He was thick beneath you, spreading your thighs wide, his cock straining against his zipper and pressing up between your legs.

“Bucky - let me take some of that pressure off, I love you so much - I” 

He tipped his head, catching your lips in a bruising kiss. Your hands clutched at his hair, turning his head to the perfect angle, lips parted you kissed him back fiercly in a whirlwind of his desperation and your need.

“We shouldn't - the doctor said -” 

Your hands were gone again, leaving his hair mussed on the pillow. 

“You're mine, Bucky, I won't have anyone else telling us how I take care of you.” 

The zip on his pants was close to splitting and so was Bucky's sanity, back arched from the bed, teeth bared. Slowly you popped the button and lowered the zip, allowing the hard length of his cock to spring free.

Like the rest of him, Bucky's cock was beautiful, thick and ready, the vein running up the side pulsed beneath your palm, precum beading at his red tip. He looked delicious.

“Do something,” Bucky's hips pumped again and again, thrusting up into your grip. You let go and he growled, low and throaty, body straining against his bonds. “Get your hands back on my dick right now.” 

You shivered, lust coursing through your body like fire. "I thought you told me to leave? Besides, wouldn’t you rather have something else?” You teased, leaning forward and licking a long stripe from his base to his weeping tip, gathering his pre-cum on your tongue and groaning lewdly in satisfaction. 

“Fuck!” He tugged again and the bed groaned. “Do that again.” Instinctively, you lent forwards and wrapped your lips around his head, sucking slowly and dipping your tongue into his slit. It was Bucky’s turn to groan now, head tipped back. 

He was thrusting up, trying to get himself as deep into your mouth as possible and - fuck - you loved him like this. Raw and wild and passionate. You had to have him, the need was so strong you could feel your heartbeat between your legs, arousal making your thighs slide together when you moved to sit up. 

“No, no, no, doll, please, what are you doing?” He pleaded, eyes wide in understanding when you climbed up to sit in his lap. 

Bucky’s cock lay hard against his soft stomach, your lips perfectly molded around it to push the tip against your clit when you rocked back and forth. It was delicious, this temptation, the tease. But Bucky was beyond teasing. He needed to be inside of you now.

With one last pull he broke free of the restraints. His hands, vibranium cuffs still hanging from his wrists, went straight to your waist, lifting you enough to impale you on his cock. 

He was so ready, throbbing inside of you, and the sensation of being empty and then so wonderfully full had you clenching around him immediately, teetering on the edge of an orgasm you weren't prepared for.

“No, no, Doll, this was your idea so you can fucking wait for me.” 

You wailed but clenched down, willing yourself to hold on for now.

Bucky set a bruising rhythm, holding you still as he thrust up into you, using your body to chase his own pleasure.

“Bucky I'm gonna -”

“No you're fucking not, you're gonna hold it like a good girl and cum when I say.” His voice was low, gravelly from shouting.

God. You needed it. It was like an electric shock, the power looking for an escape and ricocheting around your body until every muscle felt sore from holding back. 

“I can't, Bucky, I've got to-” you sobbed, tears welling in your eyes from the effort. 

“Cum,” he grunted, holding you down and grinding you onto his cock while your body went tight, light exploding behind your eyes, “look at me.” 

You opened your eyes and met his, dark with lust, and you twitched again, milking him as he filled you in three harsh pumps.

“Fuck,” he dropped his hands to the bed and you rolled off him. 

“Well, at least you didn't get sick from the serum, right?” You flopped back onto the bed. 

Bucky rolled into his side, looking down at you with a grin on his face, hand pumping his already hard dick again. 

“No ill effects, anyway.” He laughed, before sliding back between your legs. 

[seventeenpins]

sniff

pairing: worst!Logan x neighbor!reader word count: 3k summary: You catch Logan with your stolen panties. content/warnings: pervy old man Logan, panty sniffing, masturbation with panties, mutual masturbation, a whole lot of fantasizing, kinda sub!Logan a/n: Still deep in the trenches here, folks. The Logan brainrot has gotten out of hand. Thank you to @ozarkthedog for making me worse ilu 😘

Logan was a bad man. He knew that. Had spent years knowing that.

Sure, he’d saved this universe, but he still had his demons.

The first time he’d crossed paths with you, you’d knocked him out. You’re a pretty little thing, all sweet and soft. There’s no way you’d ever want a man like him, all anger and failure, grey in his hair, face lined with time and exhaustion.

But you were kind, and charming. Made him smile every time you saw him in the halls or in the laundry room.

He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t. But when he sees you in your leggings and a tight little top, every curve on display, he just can’t help it. He can't tear his eyes away.

Your ass jiggles as you’re bent over the washer, tossing your dirty laundry in the machine haphazardly, and you don’t notice when you drop a lacy pair of panties.

He should tell you. He should really tell you. 

Instead, though, he moves closer to you. Makes up some lie about this machine having been on the fritz. Gives the washer a little smack, the metal of the machine twanging against the metal of his bones.

And, as you thank him and turn back, he snatches up your lacy panties and slips them into his pocket. 

“You have a good day, now, sweetheart,” he tells you, and you turn to face him, a bright smile on your face.

”You too, Logan! I’ll see you round.”

He makes a quick exit, cock already hardening, panties burning a hole in his pocket.

When he gets back to the apartment, he slams the door behind him hard enough to shake the doorframe. He slips into the bathroom, away (hopefully) from the prying ears of Wade and Al, double checking to make sure he has the lock latched securely. He thinks they’re out. He hopes they’re out. If they’re not out, they’d better not say shit if they hear him.

With a quick tug, he unbuckles his belt and unzips his jeans, letting his cock spring free from its confines. He slips the panties from his pocket and sighs. They’re barely more than a glorified shred of lace. He holds them up, examines them. Do you wear this style every day, a little thong like this, or is it only for special occasions? Maybe you were wearing them for someone else, some little boyfriend?

The thought enrages him. He knows it’s unfair, that your life is none of his business. Maybe you are dating someone. That’s fine. You’re young and pretty and deserve someone good. Someone better than a man like him.

But fuck he would take care of you right. Wouldn’t stop till you were shaking and crying, utterly fucked out and satisfied, covered in sweat, the slick of your release all over both of you.

With that thought, he brings the panties to his face.

He takes a deep sniff and groans.

He could smell them already, smell you, but it was different from a distance. With your panties in his face, he breathes deep, tries to take you in, all you, only you.

It’s dizzying, the scent of you. The smell of your pussy is intoxicating and he wants so much more. He darts his tongue out, licking at the crusty gusset. He groans as he tastes you. The panties had been worn days ago, but as he sucks at them, he makes them wet again, slippery.

He fists himself with one hand, painfully hard to the point he’s dripping, and with the other, holds your underwear up to his mouth, soaking the fabric.

Then, he wraps the wet panties around his cock and starts jerking himself off.

God, he hopes no one’s home. He tries to quiet the sounds coming out of him, but he simply can’t. The feeling of your panties choking his dick is incredible, even better than he’d hoped when he nabbed them. His breaths are coming out in pants and growls, and he feels more like an animal than he has in a long, long time.

“Fuck-” he grits, imagining all the things he’d like to do to you. He wants to taste you, straight from the source. Spread your pretty little pussy and spit, mixing saliva with your arousal. He wants to fold you over, shove your face into the pillow and ass in the air, all for him to smack and grope at. Spread your cheeks and thumb your asshole. Maybe you’ve never taken a cock in the ass before, maybe he can be your first.

His mind swims with every filthy thought he’s ever had about you. He wants, he wants, he wants—

He wants to bite down on your inner thighs, leave bruises on that soft, soft skin. Plunge three fingers into your glistening pussy and take.

Logan can still taste you on his lips. 

It’s with that thought, and one more slick tug, and he’s spilling into your panties.

There’s a lot. More than he would’ve expected. He keeps coming, the jerk of his hips punctuated with heavy breaths and growls, sweat dripping down his temples and brain blissfully blank from his exertions.

Fuck.

The post nut clarity starts to hit, slowly at first and then all at once.

FUCK.

He should not have done that. 

Stealing your panties? Really? God, he really was just a perverted old man. You could never know, he’d have to find a way to slip them back in your hamper the next time you met doing laundry.

And despite that, despite the shame and guilt and absolute self loathing, he brings the wadded ball of panties to his mouth and licks one last tentative time, tasting both of you together on the flimsy lace.

It tastes like heaven.

Gingerly, he tucks his dick back into his jeans. Glances at himself in the mirror, and fusses a little, straightening out his disheveled appearance.

After one more look over himself, ruined panties balled up in his hand, he unlocks the bathroom door and steps out. 

He exclaims when he sees you, smile on your face, reclined on the sofa next to Wade. Fuck these fucking walls had better be soundproof. FUCK.

”Peanut,” Wade sing-songs, “We have company! This little morsel from down the hall was just telling me how she’d run into you earlier today. She brought us some muffins.”

He puts undue emphasis on muffin in a way that makes Logan blush, just a little.

”Just had some bananas that were past their prime and I made too many. After I saw you earlier I thought I should drop some off as a thank you!”

“A thank you?” Logan asks, suddenly confused.

”Yeah, for helping with the washer!” You frown, surprised that he’d already forgotten.

Logan hesitates to make eye contact, instead only grunting vaguely in your direction with a curt nod.

He shuffles over to the kitchen and grabs himself a beer. Much to his chagrin, the muffins do smell good. 

He’s not sure if you notice that he’s trying to ignore you, but you still seem cheerful.

”Well,” Wade sighs, “I’d better get going. I have a hot date tonight and I will not be late. Again. By more than fifteen minutes.”

”Say hi to Vanessa from me,” you tell him, and right as he’s standing you turn to him. “Mind if I use your bathroom?” You ask, and Wade points you towards the door Logan had just exited.

”Have at it,” he says, and then in a stage whisper tells you, “But if you die, I’m not to be held responsible. Peanut was in there for a while and I can tell you from experience, a wolverine-dump is frightening to behold, even if it’s just the aftermath.”

You snort a laugh and move towards the bathroom as Wade tugs a particularly hideous hat on top of his heinous toupee. “Play nice,” he mock-glares at Logan, “We want more friends in this building who bring us delicious, delicious baked goods.”

With that, he slips out of the apartment.

It’s then that Logan realizes–the panties are no longer in his hand. He’d dropped them. He’d fucking dropped them!

It’s so fucking stupid. So unbelievably fucking stupid. He’d dropped the panties when he saw you, startled out of his train of thought.

And left them on the floor of the bathroom.

”NO!” Logan calls, and tries to get to the door before you make it there, but he’s already moments too late.

As he dashes around the kitchen island and towards the bathroom door, you’ve already shut the door behind you. At the sound of his footsteps, the door swings back open, and you’re standing there, panties in hand.

He physically recoils and then stares, deer in headlights.

You look at the bunched up ball of underwear and back up at him.

“Logan?” you venture.

He glares at the floor, refusing to make eye contact. You can see the tick of his jaw, the dart of his eyes.

“Are these mine?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

Logan gives one sharp nod.

“You seem to have made a mess of them,” you muse, suddenly feeling very, very warm. You should be angry. Hell, you should be scared.

But he stands before you, still looking at the floor, looking to all the world like a bashful child who’s just been caught misbehaving.

He doesn’t respond with words, only grunts.

You take a step closer to him.

“Logan, look at me.”

He finally does. He’s not sure what he sees in your eyes, but it doesn’t look like fear or anger. Instead, it’s almost a hunger.

“First," you tell him, "You’re gonna clean up your mess,” You're suddenly more bold than you know yourself to be, aching with it. “And then you’re gonna show me, and you’re gonna do it all over again.”

“I’m sorry, what–”

You take another step towards him, close enough to touch him. As he’s about to say something else, you take the opportunity to shove the cum-drenched panties right in his open mouth, shutting him up instantly.

He stands there, unmoving, panties half-dangling out his mouth.

“Good boy.” You say, and his eyes widen, mouth agape and panties nearly slipping.

Of all the scenarios he’s played out, for months now, this was never one of them.

He’d never realized how much he can enjoy surprises. The hunger in your eyes—it’s delicious.

He regains a semblance of composure and you guide him backwards. He stumbles blindly till the backs of his knees hit the sofa. He collapses with a huff.

“Go on,” you encourage, “You like playing with my panties so much, you get to do it for me.”

He groans, puts a hand to his mouth, and sucks at the fabric. 

It’s still wet, and full – full – of his cum. 

He slurps at it, pulls them out of his mouth and stretches the panties wide. Licks all over it, tongue running along the gusset where he can still taste the two of you together.

It doesn’t matter that Wade could come back home, that Althea may already be home. It doesn’t matter that he’s mortified; at the very least, his dick doesn’t seem to have gotten the message. He’s getting hard again, refractory period already practically nonexistent. He’s at a loss for words, but that doesn’t matter, either. 

All that matters is the panties in his mouth, and your eyes on him, slight smile tugging at your lips as you watch.

”Do you make a habit of this?” You ask, and it’s more curious than condemning.

Logan shakes his head. “Uh-uh,” it comes out muffled through the mouthful.

“Don’t make a habit of stealing my panties, or don’t make a habit of stealing anyone’s panties? For all I know, you’ve got some secret collection. Got a pair of Wade’s briefs in the back of your drawer?”

The blush that blooms is pretty, flushing all down his bared throat. You desperately want to touch him, but more than that, you want to tease him. Humiliate him. Call him a dirty old man and make him sweat, and then show him that you want him anyway. That you have been wanting him.

You just didn’t think he’d fall so easily for the bait of dropped panties.

“Suck em clean,” you tell him, and he makes a half-strangled moan, slurping loudly against them.

He works at them with his mouth. It could’ve been comical but instead he simply looks feral. He makes a lewd, wet sound, and pulls the panties out of his mouth, dragging them across his teeth, saving every last bit of the mix of cum and reconstituted pussy juice that had been soaking them.

You take them from his outstretched hand and sniff them yourself. You see the way his eyes widen again, but he’s restrained. He holds himself back, stays still.

“I’ve gotta say, you do put on a good show. You can keep these,” you smile, and toss them back at him, smacking him square in the face.

“But these-” you slip your thumbs up your skirt, the one you deliberately chose to wear just for this purpose. You hook the waistband of today’s panties and slip them down, stepping out of them and handing them to Logan.

“You’re gonna show me exactly how you touched yourself with those panties you stole.”

“Hey,” he huffs, “Look, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have–”

“I’m not,” you cut in, “If you hadn’t stolen my panties, you wouldn’t be showing me just how dirty an old man you are.” You wink, “And I like it.”

“Watch who you’re callin’ old, sweetheart.”

“Logan, baby,” you croon, “You ain’t the one calling the shots here.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but you take another step towards him and grab him by the belt buckle. He buffers, opening and closing his mouth several times, never taking his eyes from your face.

He watches, awed, as you undo the buckle, pop the button, pull down his zipper.

You grin when you see he isn’t wearing any underwear himself and, with a swift, deft movement, you reach into his jeans and slide out his cock.

If he wasn’t hard before, he is now. He moans as your hand wraps around him, pumping gently. It’s far too little pressure. He wants more. He needs more.

As if reading his mind, you snatch your panties from his hand and wrap them around his cock.

He whines, immediately overwhelmed. He’d barely dared to notice them when you’d placed them in his hand. Now, he realizes just how absolutely soaked you are. The crotch of your panties, (another lacy pair), is slick with your arousal.

“Show me,” you tell him. “Show me-”

Reluctantly, he tightens the grip on his cock and starts jerking himself. 

Against his own will, a ragged moan slips out. It makes your body hot and your pussy even wetter. You sit back on the sofa and spread your legs, letting your hand rest on your needy pussy.

Logan notices and, encouraged, wraps his fist tighter around his cock and strokes himself faster, his hips moving rhythmically.

You start to touch yourself in earnest, dipping two fingertips into your slick heat and swirling the arousal around your clit.

Little moans start to escape you, egged on but his ragged breathing. He starts muttering, worn and desperate; “Fuck, fuck, wanna taste that pussy. Eat you right. Smells so good, tastes so good, wanna make you cum on my tongue, hold you down, fuck you through it–”

The touch of your fingertips is exquisite. You’ve masturbated to the thought of him a lot. More than you’d prefer to admit. But seeing him like this, undone and aching, it hits you all the more. 

You sink into the fantasy. “Want you, Logan. I’ve wanted you for so long.”

“Gettin’ close now,” he warns. He should be embarrassed at the speed he's reaching his peak, but he's so drunk on sensation he simply cannot find it in himself to care.

You nod, and adjust the pressure on your clit.

“Wait for me,” you tell him. He groans, but nods. “Nearly there,” you assure.

You press tight circles around your clit working yourself up, closer and closer and closer to that high–

“Fuck,” you shout, suddenly overwhelmed by it, “Fuck, I’m— I’m coming. Show me, Lo, show me–”

You tip over the edge, cunt pulsing hungrily. You wish you’d had something inside you. Wish you’d had him inside you.

He lets out a ragged groan, followed by curses, and the most explosive ejaculation you’ve ever seen. The head of his cock is buried in your panties and he fills them, but his cum shoots out of the holes of the lace, spraying his spend across the floor and towards you. A single drop hits your cheek, and you nearly laugh, but the sound he makes–something primal and animalistic–sends another pulse through you and suddenly you’re coming again, untouched.

It takes a while to come down.

He’s panting, sweat dripping down his temples. Reality absolutely living up to the fantasy.

When you both catch your breath, you smile, sated and tired. You reach out a hand and, hesitantly, he hands you the ruined panties.

Mouth agape, he watches as you run a finger through the cum and dip it in your mouth, humming a pleased affirmation. Then, you step into the cum-drenched underwear and put them on.

He stares at you dumbfounded, burning with so many thoughts that he can’t pinpoint a single one.

“Next time,” you smile, standing up and pressing an unexpected kiss to his cheek. “You can just ask.”

You wink, half dazed yourself, barely able to believe everything had turned out exactly as you’d orchestrated it.

“I’m in Apartment 8,” you tell him, and then you’ve turned on your heel and stepped out the door.

Logan stands there, bewildered. He fingers the damp panties he still has in his pocket, and listens as your footsteps echo through the hallway.

[romanofftherealest]

Dark Red

Summary: You didn't expect anything from Wanda, not after everything you had put her through as part of a HYDRA operative. You knew that you had hurt her, and that there was no way to repair the damage. But at the same time, you wanted her to be free from HYDRA and everything that had happened to her. So you offered her your home, hoping that it would give her some measure of safety, independence and authority.

Pairings: Super Soldier Wanda Maximoff x Hydra Scientist Female Reader

Word count: 5.5k

Tags | Warnings: +18 dark, smut, angst, death, AMAB!Wanda, top!Wanda, bottom!reader, HYDRA experimentation, implied r4p3 (r), degradation, masturbation, breeding, fingering (r receiving)

Author's Note: Scheduled repost

ᱬ

"Stop it!"

You roared, your voice echoing through the sterile, cold lab as you watched her strapped up body in the chair. Her muscles strained against the unyielding leather restraints, her hooked up body in the machines shaking with rage. Wanda's face was contorted in pain, veins bulging beneath her skin as the incomplete experiment wreaked havoc on her body.

She has been screaming for four minutes now. And all you were able to do is watch.

You are the lead scientist in this Super Soldier Project of HYDRA. The brilliant scientist who doesn't see you as a person, only as a specimen to be poked and prodded since you are the only woman in this man's world. Well, you've had enough.

"Prekrati eto seychas!" (Stop now!)

As you stood there, chest heaving with barely contained anger, the men in the lab finally took notice. They turned to face you, a collective realization dawning on their faces. This was the first time they had ever seen you truly angry. The whirring of machinery slowed to a stop, the hum of equipment faded away. The lab, once a symphony of scientific exploration, fell silent.

It took your full-blown rage for them to finally listen, to heed your words.

"Get out," you said, your voice low and steady, belying the fury raging inside you. "All of you. I'll continue this done alone. You've had your chance to work with me as an equal, and you've squandered it with your arrogance and disregard."

"Do not touch her." Was the last thing you said before all the doctors flew out of the lab.

You for sure will receive a handful and punishment from Strucker after all this.

When you saw that they're entirely gone you slowly and nervously approached Wanda, your heart heavy with the sight before you. Her chest heaved with labored breaths, her eyes clenched shut as she struggled to cope with the lingering pain from the experiment. You reached out, placing a gentle hand on her chest, feeling the rapid rhythm of her heartbeat. As your hand made contact with her chest, Her eyes flew open, she thrashed against her restraints, struggling to break free.

"Get. Away. From. Me." She spat, each word punctuated by the violent jerking of her limbs against the unyielding restraints. You recoiled immediately, your heart clenching at the sight of her so enraged and helpless.

You're not scared of her.

As your fingers grazed her bare skin to begin unstrapping her, Wanda's power surged. In an instant, you found yourself pinned against the cold laboratory wall, her hand clasped around your throat. Her eyes blazed with an otherworldly crimson light, her breath coming in ragged pants.

You tapped weakly at the iron grip around your neck, gasping for breath. Your feet dangled helplessly above the ground as Wanda's unbridled power held you captive. Her face was inches from yours, her expression wild and unrecognizable.

"Wanda..." you choked out. Your words seemed to pierce through the fog of her rage. Her eyes flickered back to their normal hue, the crimson receding as if a switch had been flipped. She immediately released her grip, horror flashing across her face as she stepped back and turned around.

You rubbed at your sore throat, coughing slightly as you quickly and limply shuffled to the nearby tray. Seizing the injection, you dashed back to Wanda who had no idea what was happening and plunged the needle into her neck—in the blink of an eye she slumped unconscious in the ground in front of you.

ᱬ

Wanda's eyes flutter open to an unfamiliar room, the dim light casting long shadows that dance on the walls. She's not strapped to a chair, but instead, lies in a soft warm bed. The space is tiny, cozy even, unlike the cold, sterile lab that's been her waking nightmare. Her senses remain dulled compared to the hyperawareness drilled into her by HYDRA's conditioning. The strange room, so unlike the lab's familiarity, failed to provoke alarm on her; instead, she finds a peculiar sense of security in its unfamiliarity.

As Wanda slowly sits up, her muscles protest with stiffness and soreness. She winces at the pain but manages to push through it, her eyes darting around the small room.

You enter the room, pausing momentarily as you register Wanda's awake and upright position. As you slowly walk towards her, your eyes flicker to Wanda's hands. Her fingertips bear the faintest glow of red magic, swirling gently. It's a sign—a sign that she's alert, that her powers are active.

She could kill you.

You're painfully aware that with a single snap of her fingers, she could incinerate you where you stand. No compound, no machines, no backup—just you and your words against an enraged witch.

"Hey, easy there," you say softly, moving closer to the bed with measured steps, as if approaching a startled animal.

Wanda's voice carries an edge, a threatening undertone, "Where am I?"

You glance at Wanda's hands, wishing the red magic would fade away. But you keep your focus on her, offering her reassurance although your shaky voice was so evident. "You're…in my place, Wanda. You're safe here. No one will hurt you."

"No one will hurt me?" she smirked, "But you're here," she suddenly growled, anger flashing in her eyes.

"Wanda…I am not going to hurt you," you stammer, backing away slowly. Your heart pounds in your chest but you force your voice to remain steady.

"Then why am I here, doctor?" Wanda demands, her voice dropping dangerously low with her thick accent. Her red eyes narrow and she tilts her head ever so slightly, as if daring you to give an answer she won't like. "In your room?" she smirks slightly.

Your breath catches as Wanda looms mere inches away, her imposing figure blocking any escape route. To avoid her penetrating gaze, your eyes flicker sideways and land down on her hands. The crimson magic swirls hypnotically, a vivid reminder of the power she wields from the serum you made together with the mind stone.

"You're...you're free to go," you say in a small voice.

Wanda scoffs, a humorless sound that's more menacing than any shout. "Free?" she echoes, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm free?" she leans in closer, her face inches from yours. "After everything they've done? After everything you've done?"

You squeeze your eyes shut tightly, trembling as Wanda's face hovers mere inches from your cheek. Her breath, hot and agitated, ghosts across your skin. The scent of ozone and something darker, more primal, fills your nostrils. You brace yourself, knowing that the slightest wrong move could spell your doom.

"You could've done it sooner," Wanda hisses, her voice barely containing fury. She pushes away from you, turning her back as she takes a step away. The tension in your shoulders eases slightly, the knot in your throat growing tighter. "But instead," she says, her voice cold and hard, "you stood there and watched. You did nothing."

Like what you are right now. Doing nothing, standing once again in fear but not in the hands of HYDRA—but its experiment.

"Because that's the only thing you do, doctor," Wanda says, her tone dripping with venom. She stretches her neck sideways, the sound of cracking bones echoing through the room as she massages her muscles. "You watch, you observe, you record. You never intervene, never question, never help. Tell me, Doctor, how many lives could you have saved by acting instead of…watching?" she counts on her fingers mockingly. "One. Two. A dozen? More?"

"If you wanna stay here you can stay." Before she could even reply, you turn and rush out of the room, not daring to look back. The tears you've been holding back finally break free, streaming down your cheeks as you flee the room.

The echoes of Wanda's words still ringing in your ears. She was right, every cruel word. You did nothing. You could have saved lives or helped her escape sooner...but you didn't.

You've made wrong decisions before, joining HYDRA included. But this, this is different. This time, you're choosing to walk away to assert your own will. For once, you're not a puppet—you're not following orders from Strucker or HYDRA even if you know the cost will be your own life.

ᱬ

You didn't expect anything from Wanda, not after everything you had put her through as part of a HYDRA operative. You knew that you had hurt her, and that there was no way to repair the damage. But at the same time, you wanted her to be free from HYDRA and everything that had happened to her. So you offered her your home, hoping that it would give her some measure of safety, independence, and authority.

The tension between you and Wanda was gone as the day went by, you don't see each other after your last encounter with her. You almost thought she had left your home, but when the food you leave on the counter as well as your food stocks are gone every morning, you know she's still staying, so you try to avoid her as much as possible. But you knew that this couldn't go on forever. Something needed to change and you weren't sure how to broach the subject like there was a wall between you that neither of you could break through.

One morning, you woke up and noticed that the food you had left for Wanda was still untouched. Something felt off, but you knew she was gone.

As far as you were concerned, she was free now. She could do whatever she wanted and you wouldn't stop her. In fact, you hoped that she would make a life for herself, one that was free from the shadows of HYDRA and all its secrets.

You entered her room, that was your room hesitantly, half hoping that she would still be there. But as soon as you looked around, the room was left exactly the same, she might have left in the middle of the night, leaving no trace behind.

All that remained in the room was her scent—an intoxicating fragrance that reminded you of her.

You covered the windows, making sure that no one could see in or out, securing it as best as you could. You knew that HYDRA was looking for you, and you didn't know how much time you had before they find you.

The night had finally arrived, you shut every door and locked it, trying to feel comfortable despite the anxiety building inside of you. You also had made sure to disconnect all signals from your apartment, knowing that HYDRA had ways of tracking you even with them.

You took the syringe that you had hidden and made, with a serum that could make someone meet whoever entity they were praying upon—it is the only defense you had against anyone. You placed it on your bedside table before getting into bed and settling in. You knew how dangerous it would be if they found you, but you had to be prepared for the worst-case scenario. As you closed your eyes, you tried to push away the fear and doubt that was creeping in.

You lay in bed, tossing and turning as the anxiety and adrenaline raced through your body. You were getting sweaty and restless, unable to sleep no matter how hard you tried to relax. The thought of HYDRA finding you loomed in your mind, keeping you up and alert and where Wanda might be. But you decided to shake away the thoughts of her, with that serum coursing through her veins? She can protect herself more than you. You tried to take deep breaths and tell yourself that everything would be okay, but the feeling of fear and helplessness was too much.

The familiar, unwanted urge rises again. Your hands shake slightly as they move down your legs, the sensation both comforting and torturous. You take a deep, shaky breath, trying to push away the guilt and shame that always follows. This is your secret, your dirty little habit—a coping mechanism born from years of trauma and manipulation. You bite your lip hard, your touch is feather-light, gentle but insistent as you try to distract yourself from the swirling thoughts. You move in slowly gathering your wetness, deliberate circles, breathing deeply to keep from making any noise.

As your fingers begin to move more purposefully on your clit, a small whimper escapes your throat. You clamp your hand over your mouth, biting down hard on your knuckles to muffle any further sounds.

"Oh fuck…"

Still lost in trying to reach your high, you continue touching yourself, unaware of the threat lurking in the shadows. Your breathing becomes heavier as your fingers move faster. The intruder moves closer, their steps silent but deliberate.

Their smirk grows wider as they watch you struggle, your face scrunched up in concentration at the same time trying a hard time not to fall asleep as you try to reach that elusive peak and they can sense your desperation. Before you could even reach your high, you already fell in slumber.

"Bednaya devochka," (Poor girl) they whispered, "Touching yourself just to fall asleep, you're such a slut."

Your hands are still resting on the damp fabric of your pajamas, the evidence of your frustration still visible. The unknown figure approaches slowly, carefully removing a strand of hair from your face. Their touch is light, almost ghostly against your skin.

They gently lift your hands from your pajamas, examining your pointy finger that you had used…noting the slight trembling and the wetness from your own pussy.

"You don't even know how to touch yourself, you really always need someone else to do it for you? Hm?" they sucked your finger into their mouth, licking and sucking all the juices off it. Their eyes remain fixed on your sleeping form, a look of tender cruelty on their face. They moan softly at the taste, "Such a sweet little thing…"

When they finally pull your finger free, they reach out and pull the blankets up to your chin, tucking you in tightly.

ᱬ

You woke up with the sight of red wisps of magic trailing from your bedside to the window. You quickly but silently got out of bed and followed the trail of magic, looking out the window to see what was on the other side but there's no one and there is only one person you know that can cast that red magic.

Wanda.

Your thoughts were interrupted as you were suddenly grabbed from behind. A strong hand clamped over your mouth, smothering any sound you might make.

"Stay still, don't make any noise. Strucker has been in your home."

You squeaked in surprise as Wanda suddenly grabbed you and threw you over her shoulders in a fireman's carry. Your mind was still reeling from the shock, and the sudden change in position left you feeling even more disoriented. You clenched your jaw, fighting the urge to cry out and attract attention.

"Stay quiet, we have to move quickly."

Wanda jumped out the window, landing cleanly on her feet before breaking into a sprint towards the nearby forest. You held on tight to her as she carried you, the wind whipping through your hair as she ran, you watched your apartment disappear from your sight. The terrain was rough and uneven, but Wanda navigated it effortlessly, weaving through trees and bushes without missing a beat.

In spite of the fact that she was carrying you, Wanda's pace was relentless and fast, her legs pumping harder with each stride. It was clear that the super soldier serum coursing through her veins was giving her superhuman strength and stamina, allowing her to run for miles without tiring.

After Wanda felt like it was safe for you to finally walk alone, she came to a stop in a secluded clearing deep within the forest. She gently sets you down on the ground, taking a moment to catch her breath. You looked around, noting the thick foliage and the fact that you were well hidden from view.

Wanda stood above you for a moment, her eyes scanning the surroundings to ensure that you were safe. When she was satisfied, she finally said, "We're safe for now. This way leads to the borders, we can find a place to stay at night."

She started kneeling down to her foot, removing her boots. You were stunned when she took your foot and wore it on you—you didn't fight back—you cannot fight back.

"How'd you know Strucker was in my place?" you asked, staring at her as she finally stood. Your eyes ran down to her now bare feet.

"Did you make him stay?" Wanda asked back—suspiciously.

"No." You defended, your voice rising in volume before you could even catch it. You will never have Strucker into your home, not when you're literally trying to escape him.

"Seems like he's making himself comfortable at your home." You just shook your head side to side, hiding the tears threatening to fall down your face.

You and Wanda continued through the forest for what seemed like hours, your legs starting to ache from the long and tiring walk. The sun is setting but finally, in the distance, you saw a small, run-down motel nestled discreetly among the trees.

You both entered the motel cautiously, glancing around the small lobby. The lobby was small and cramped. You couldn't help but notice the layer of dust that seemed to cling to every surface, giving the place a neglected and somewhat eerie feeling. There was only one person manning the front desk, a bored-looking clerk who barely glanced up as you approached.

Now, the clerk eyed you with apathy, as if silently judging your presence here.

"S voynov, idushchey seychas, vam nuzhno zaplatit' v tri raza bol'she," (With the war going on now, you have to pay three times more) the clerk said, gesturing to the rates listed on a worn-out placard on the wall.

You could sense the tension in the air as the clerk spoke, and you knew that Wanda was just one snap away from controlling the situation. But you also knew the risks that would come with exercising her abilities, and you warned her with a subtle shake of your head.

Wanda noticed your gesture and reluctantly held back, her eyes flickering towards the clerk in barely concealed anger—it's like the owner trying to tame its puppy.

The clerk watched as you pulled out some cash from your bra. You have put it there in case of emergency, as well as the extra deadly serum you have left.

However, Wanda looked equally red-faced and awkward. Her eyes grew wide seeing your bare chest skin and the lacy bra that peeked on your sleeping shirt. She quickly averted her gaze, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Instead, her eyes landed on the clerk who was staring at you with a smirk on her face. This time, Wanda couldn't help but cast red wisps on her fingers but fortunately you immediately saw it, you didn't hesitate and held her hand to stop her from doing anything.

The clerk finally broke her staring contest on your cleavage and placed a rusty key on the desk, next to which was a small slip of paper with room number 7 written on it. She slid the key and paper towards you, her expression still neutral as if she has not been trying to eye fuck you.

"Shit," you muttered under your breath as you stepped into the room and saw that it only had one bed. The room was small and dingy, the furniture worn and outdated. The wallpaper was peeling and the carpet had seen better days, the stench of old cigarette smoke still lingering in the air.

Wanda stepped in behind you, shutting the door shut behind her.

"I'll have the bed, you can have the sheets so you can sleep on the floor." You said in a neutral tone, gesturing towards the linens that lay beside it. Well, you paid for the room, so you have more rights for the comfort.

You bent down to take off Wanda's boots, setting them aside before standing up and watched as she set her bag down on the bed and went to the windows, checking to see if someone was outside.

Wanda was obviously exhausted but just as obviously didn't want to show it and that made you feel guilty. She finished checking the windows and turned to you, with an unreadable expression.

"We can't stay longer here. We need to move first thing tomorrow morning. I'll take a shower, don't open the doors to anyone."

The redhead's eyes were on you as you sat on the bed and you couldn't help but feel a flutter of unease mixed with something else, something inexplicable. You gulped, your throat suddenly dry as you met her gaze, only to find her studying you intently before walking towards the bathroom.

You were sitting on the bed, trying to distract yourself from the sound of Wanda showering when there was a sudden knock on the door. You jumped slightly, startled by the unexpected noise. The knock came again, more insistent this time.

"Open the door," a gruff voice said from the other side. Your heart began to race as the knock came again, more urgently this time.

You looked around the room, realizing there was no peephole on the door, leaving you blind as to who was outside. You took a deep breath before opening the door slightly, revealing the clerk with a cigarette in her hand and a couple of towels folded over her other arm.

She looked you up and down, taking a drag of her cigarette before speaking. "Here. Fresh towels," she said, handing the towels to you.

Before you could even reach out to get it, the door suddenly slammed shut by red wisps of magic. You spun around to find Wanda standing behind you, her hair dripping wet and a towel wrapped tightly around her body.

She was clearly furious, her eyes narrow and nostrils flared. "Who was that?" she asked through clenched teeth.

Despite her anger, you couldn't help but fixate on her arms, which were still wet with water and revealed a muscular toned physique. You gulped at the sight and shamed yourself for looking.

"It was just the—"

"I told you not to open the door to anyone." She hissed. "Fucking puppet, you just do whatever you're told to."

"So are you." You spat before you could even think.

"I'm not a slut like you." She smirked as you walked backwards to the bed, gulping at the sight of Wanda securing the towel over her body.

"As far as I can remember it's not me who willingly signed up to be experimented on by HYDRA." You retaliate, in a low tone but enough for Wanda to hear.

"Did you like it when Strucker fucked you after you're done experimenting me?" Wanda's harsh words pierce the air, making you freeze in shock and terror. Tears well up in your eyes as you stare at Wanda, your bottom lip trembling.

"I-I...what are you talking about? I..." you stammer, but Wanda cuts you off with a bitter laugh.

"Oh, don't play innocent," Wanda spits out, her voice laced with resentment. "Tell me, did you enjoy your little experiments? Did you enjoy being Strucker's whore while he tortured me? Did you get wet while I was getting tortured?"

"Did you think of him while you touched yourself last night?"

"No…" your own word hit too close to home, bringing back painful memories you've tried to suppress, it is the only thing you can say while Strucker used you, forced himself on you—ruining you for anyone else.

"Don't. Just...don't. Please…I never chose to be…used."

As you cover your face, your mind is flooded with horrific flashbacks. Strucker's cold hands violating you, his cruel laughter ringing in your ears as he took piece after piece of your sanity. Each touch branded in your flesh, each degrading act carved into your soul. You can feel his hands...his hands everywhere, tearing you, breaking you down piece by piece until there was nothing left but emptiness and despair.

Strucker didn't just exploit your mind for his nefarious super soldier project; he used you on a deeply personal level, using your helpless form as an outlet for his own pleasure and sadistic urges.

And you did, you let them, you let him. You became his puppet…

So he can spare Wanda.

You did everything he asked you to, in exchange for Wanda's life. She will be experimented upon but she will not be killed after it's done or after the experiment failed on her. Because you don't want to happen to her what happened to her twin brother.

"Answer me, Y/N, did you think of him?"

Your body spasms at Wanda's agonizing question, a choked sob escaping your lips. The accusation burns like acid through your veins.

"N-no, no, no..." you choked desperately, shaking your head in denial.

"Tell me, did you? Did you think of him while you fucked yourself last night? Huh?!"

"No..."

"Who did you think of?" she asks again, her tone now sickly calming…

"You." The word tumbled from your trembling lips.

A tear fell down your cheek as Wanda surges forward, her hands gripping your face roughly as she crashes her lips against yours. It's a bruising, almost violent kiss, fueled by pent-up emotions and desperation and frustration she had on you. Her breath is hot against your mouth as she demands access to your tongue.

"I can make you forget him," she breathes against your ear, her voice a dangerous whisper. "Every twisted moment, every sick memory he forced into your mind. I can take it all away." She pulls back slightly, her crimson eyes burning into yours with an intensity that's both terrifying and alluring, "Let me erase him from your mind, so all you remember is," she pauses, her lips brushing against your ear, "me…"

The towel lies discarded on the cold floor, revealing Wanda's pale, unmarked body. Her unclothed breasts brushing against yours. You're both bare now, skin against skin, her on top of you.

"Starting now," Wanda's fingers rake down your breasts, leaving a trail of tingling heat in their wake, "I'll overwrite every trace of him, engrave myself so deep inside you that you'll forget what reality feels like."

Her hands roam possessively over your body, mapping out every curve as if she's claiming uncharted territory.

She whispers against your collarbone, "His touch, his voice, I'll replace it all with mine..." then she bites gently, marking you. Her fingers find your center, stroking confidently, "You'll scream my name until it's the only thing you remember, until he's nothing but a forgotten nightmare." She kisses you roughly, catching your lower lip between her teeth, "And then…"

"I'll break you open again and fill you up with me."

She swallows your moans with hungry kisses, her two fingers plummeting inside you while her thumb rubbed your clit. She feels every quiver, every clench, adjusting to her touch accordingly.

"Mine, only mine." Wanda withdrew her fingers coated in your dripping wetness, you shuddered as she brought her fingers to her mouth. She savors the taste intensely, her tongue swirling around her digits.

Her face contorts with pleasure as she starts to rub her length with her slick pre-cum, her hips bucking into her own hand. You watch—mesmerized, she looks up at you through heavy lidded eyes, her breath hitching as she sees you staring. She spreads her thighs wider, giving you an unobstructed view as she continues to slick herself up.

Wanda suddenly pulls her hand away, leaving her aching cock throbbing and glistening. "Do you see what you do to me? How desperate I am to be inside you?" she reaches out, grabbing your wrist and pulling you closer. "Come here. " Her breath is hot against your ear as she whispers, "Spread your legs wider, give me that dripping pussy." she guides your hand to her cock, pressing your small fingers against it. Her voice is husky with desire. "Mount me." She releases your wrist, her hands moving to grip your hips as she looks up at you with a fierce, intense gaze. "Ride me. Take what you need." She guides you to straddle her hips, her throbbing length pressing against your slick entrance.

"W-Wanda!" you cried.

"Shhh...don't make those sounds, they're driving me crazy." Her fingers dig into your hips, "You're so tight, so perfect ugh-fuck, take all of me, Y/N." She begins to slowly guide you down onto her cock.

You let out a moan on each bounce.

"Did he fuck you like this?"

"No!" you cried again, while shaking your head as she bounced you on her cock, tits bouncing and pressing against her own.

"Did he even make you come? Detka?" she thrusts upward sharply as she speaks, making you gasp.

"No, Wanda! No!"

"Bednaya devochka." (Poor girl) She trailed kisses along your already bruised neck up to your cheek. "You know how much it hurt me? When I had to watch him..." she trails off with the painful memory, "How much I wanted kill him?"

It was when Strucker punished you, having to fail a task he had given months prior. Another serum that would work on Wanda, to avoid the failure that is her brother—as the bald man calls it and you hated him for it. When Strucker found out that nothing almost happened to Wanda, no reactions, no pains, only relief that she doesn't need to go through all that suffering—he had lashed out to you, accusing you of sabotaging the plans. He almost killed you with a syringe with serum, a serum you know your body won't take well. But instead, he took you right there, in a room inside the lab where Wanda was strapped in metals because nothing can hold her body anymore.

The door was slightly opened and there she saw you, bent over the desk, your body was almost lifeless. There was no more fight in you, you were just letting Strucker use you. Both your gazes locked and Wanda didn't miss how you uttered her name.

"Wanda...I'm sorry."

And that tear, that single tear that slid down your cheek after made her lost it. She started growling and screaming and so are the metals that is holding her body, it saved you from what Strucker was about to do more on your body. But once again, Wanda had to take it all—her body had to take it all when Strucker once again injected a God knows what serum just to make her stop.

You hide yourself on her neck, those memories aren't playing in your mind anymore, you were just so focused on the pleasure as she relentlessly pounded on you. She really did make you forget anything from your past.

Wanda leans in close to your ear, her breath ragged from exertion and arousal. "Say my name, Y/N. Who's claiming this pussy right now?" her hand went to your hair forcing you to look at her.

"You, Wanda!"

Her eyes flash with triumph as she feels your body shudder and clench around her, squeezing her cock tightly. "That's it, come for me." She slams into you hard and deep, pushing you over the edge as your orgasm crashes through you. She captures your mouth in a fierce, dominating kiss, swallowing your screams of ecstasy as she continues to pound into you her thumb rubbing your clit, extending your high and making you come again and again.

A whimper escapes your lips as Wanda's cock slides out of your sensitive pussy, leaving you feeling empty and craving more. But then Wanda slammed you back onto the bed and climbed on top of you, pinning your wrists above your head.

"Wanda..."

She slammed her cock back inside you with brutal force. She starts drilling into you again, her hips pounding against yours with relentless intensity. The old bed creaks and groans beneath you, the wooden frame beginning to splinter as Wanda's super soldier strength becomes too much for it to handle. You can feel her powerful muscles rippling beneath her skin as she continues to pound into you.

You wrapped her tightly in your embrace, and she can feel your nails raking down her back, leaving trails of burning pleasure. Your legs squeeze around her waist, pulling her impossibly deeper as she grinds her hips into yours, refusing to spare you even a moment of reprieve.

"Oh, Wanda!" you cried against her ear. "Yes, yes!"

"I'll fill you up, detka." She whimpers, her movements become erratic, her thrusts growing wild and desperate as she chases her own climax. She buries her face in your neck, muffling her screams of ecstasy as she hits her peak. As Wanda's orgasm subsides, you can feel her loads pumping deep inside you, filling your pussy to the brim with her thick, hot cum.

She slid out of you that made you whimper at the feeling of being empty. She then reached your face, her fingers caressing your cheeks. Her lips parted as she removed the strands of your hair out of your face. Her gaze drops back to yours, her eyes searching yours for something she can't quite name.

"Wanda…stop looking at me like that." You whispered, your breath hot against her skin.

"Like what?" she asked softly.

"Like I'm real…"

Wanda's heart shatters at your words, the illusion of connection and warmth shattering like glass. She pulls away from you, her expression crumbling into a mask of cold.

It all happened. You escape Wanda and bring her to the safety of your home, the two of you escaping again, her making you wear her boots, the walk in the forest. The kiss, the touch, and everything that just happened couple of seconds passed.

It all happened, before you died after being found by HYDRA.

Now, you are nothing more than a figment of HYDRA's creation, they used your last remaining memories to manipulate and control Wanda.

And she is back in the cold, sterile reality of the lab, the illusion of your presence and the gentle touches fading away like a dream. She is sitting, encased in a glass with thick metal bands wrapped tightly around her body, pinning her arms to her sides.

Suddenly, a voice crackled to life that made Wanda's powers surge through her body like electricity. The metal bands creak and groan under immense pressure as Wanda's fury mounts.

"Sem" (Seven)

"Solus" (Solus)

"Pulya" (Bullet)

"Neudacha" (Failure)

"Khaos" (Chaos)

"Gore" (Grief)

"Y/N"

Wanda stands amidst the ruins of the machine, her chest heaving. The broken circuitry sparks weakly, casting eerie shadows on her battered form.

"Soldat." (Soldier) Strucker called onto Wanda, who is now standing in front of him with dead, empty eyes.

"Ya gotov otvechat." (Ready to comply)

[sitepathos]

From Gold to Mold

Chapter 10: The Meeting

As the Megamycete watches as you stomp around your room and vent your frustrations about the last few days, it begins to wonder how the Bats came to remember their little black sheep and why they are so insistent you return to Gotham.

It searches through your memories and experiences all the sadness, fear, anger, hatred, and loneliness you experienced for years, all those emotions still so potent even after your departure from the manor four years ago, having been dredged up by their unwelcome visits. It was clear that, besides the butler, none of them considered you a part of their merry band of misfits, not even bothering to spare you a passing glance.

The exception to this is the youngest one, Damian, who constantly went out of his way to make your life harder by mocking you, hurting you, and releasing his menagerie of pets on you, forcing you to run through the endless halls of the mansion barricade yourself in the closest room you could find.

Now, after four years after your escape and maintaining little contact with the family butler, they show up on your door, one after the other, trying to force you to leave your perfect life for one that brought you nothing but pain and misery.

Why?

Why do they want you so much?

Why do they insist on you returning to a place you clearly hate?

Why do they now wish to give you the love they denied you for so long?

Why—

Wait, they are meeting in their little cave, gathering around the massive computer in the center of the massive cavern.

Its roots have long since surrounded the cave and it is still connected to the main colony back in Gotham, but when it took you as its host, it has had no need to tap into its roots to see the world above when it can see the world through your eyes and experience it through your senses.

Using its roots to see the outside world no longer has the same appeal when your senses are far more vibrant and provide far more detail.

When it proposed you become its host, it must admit, it never thought it would be so mutually beneficial. Of course, it would be able to leave the cavern and finally experience a world firsthand that had been forever just out of reach for over four-hundred years, but you would recover from your injuries and be akin to a god among men with your newfound abilities. You were the one who had more to gain from your joining, but it was willing to trade one prison for another if it meant finally seeing the world above and having someone to talk to.

But you proved it wrong.

When it became a part of you, you treated it like a person, not a thing. You value its input and alter your plans if it desires to see or experience something. You frequently talk to it, telling it things that you haven’t told anyone else and speaking to it like it was a lifelong friend.

It has no further use for that toxic city and its citizens when it has the warm haven of Goodsprings and you to keep it company.

It has come to admire you, even going as far as to see you as a friend and confidant, and wants nothing but the best for you as you so rightfully deserve and to see you suffer teaches it a new definition of rage.

“Running blood tests,” your failure of a father says as he types on the keyboard, causing a machine next to the massive device to make noises.

“If Master Y/N does test positive for the Meta Gene, what do you intend to do, Master Bruce,” the butler, the only one in this crowd it respects, asks.

“If Y/N is a meta, I’ll have to find out what his powers are and how to counter it.”

So that’s what this meeting is about, they managed to put the pieces together that you are no mere human. But how did they manage to get a sample of your blood? Since your joining, you have had no need for doctors as its influence makes you immune against common illnesses and diseases.

“Getting his blood was a simple task,” Damian taunts. “Honestly, this would have been solved already if you sent me, Father.”

Of course. It should have known the little menace gave up too easily.

While you hate Bruce Wayne in every sense of the word, Damian Wayne is right behind him. From the moment you met him, he went up of his way to make your life a living nightmare and was allowed to get away with impunity due to obvious favoritism from Dick Grayson.

The memory of Dick defending Damian after he gave you a scar made the Megamycete furious. No matter his upbringing, he had no right to harm you, and yet, he was allowed to draw his sword on you. It was only pure luck that you managed to move to avoid being critically wounded, only resulting in a scar.

The Megamycete has seen your many fantasies of hurting Damian and making him feel inferior and wants to help you make them a reality.

“Results are in,” Bruce announces, making them all crowd around the computer.

“No Meta Gene,” Tim remarks, staring at the monitor with alarming intensity.

“Yeah, but look,” Jason exclaims, pointing at one of the results. “He’s got something in him that doesn’t belong.”

“For once, Todd is right. The tests show foreign substances in his blood.”

“Wait,” Tim mutters as he leans over and begins typing on the computer, bringing up an extensive menu and going through various files. “That looks so familiar.” An image is pulled up on the monitor. “Here it is! The stuff in his blood matches the stuff found in what remained of Joker.”

Well, this is rather unfortunate. It had hoped that there would be very little of the clown left to examine after his execution by your hand, but as usual, these people cannot resist poking into areas they do not belong.

“If this is substance is in Master Y/N’s blood, does that mean he is responsible for Joker’s death?”

“Bruce, you can’t lock up Y/N after bringing him home,” Dick whines. “You have to admit, your thing with Joker was only going to end one way!”

“We don’t even know if Y/N killed Joker,” Tim interjects. “It’s possible this strain of mold was in both of them and Joker’s was somehow activated, killing him.”

“That’s not exactly comforting, Drake,” Damian responds, glaring at Tim. “That means that Y/N could be in danger. If I had my pick, I would he be responsible for Joker’s death. Knowing he can take down as formidable as the Joker is proof he is a Wayne and my brother.”

If it had eyes, the Megamycete would roll them. This insecure little terror spent years making it clear he saw you as an interloper into his “perfect world” and not as a brother and that you are a disgrace to the Wayne bloodline (although that bloodline was tainted far before you came to be). He has some nerve to call you his brother now.

It still made it angry that he had the nerve to critique your mother (your memories of her painted the woman as a saint) when his mother, the daughter of a millennium-old maniac with delusions of grandeur (yes, you are very aware of his familiar secrets) who drugged Bruce in order to bring him into the world.

“We need to bring him back here, Bruce,” Dick says, defusing a fight between the two. “If he’s in danger, he needs to be back home.”

“I agree,” Bruce responds. “Cass, you and I will go. I’ll distract him and while he’s busy yelling at me, you’ll sneak up behind him and inject him with a tranquilizer.”

The mute nods and the Megamycete wishes it has a mouth so it can scream. Not only is it offensive that they believe you are stupid enough to fall for such an obvious trick, but that they believe they have the right to decide something like this on your behalf.

If they have failed to realize that you want nothing to do with them after you have yelled it at them, perhaps they will understand if it tells so itself.

And it knows the perfect form to take.

He stands up from the chair and makes his way to the armory where they keep the tranquilizers meant for the larger criminals, like Bane and Killer Croc.

He hates the thought of using such methods against you, but you’ve made it clear you aren’t going to come back to Gotham willingly and the discovery of this mysterious mold inside you has forced their hand.

Nevertheless, improvisation is one of their many skills, a requirement in their line of work. Once they have you back home, they’ll be able to conduct more in-depth tests and be able to find out what’s wrong with you and go from there.

As much as he hates the idea of you possibly being in pain and may even be in danger, he can’t deny there’s a small inside him that’s glad this has happened. This discovery accelerates their plans and will have you brought home far sooner.

And, there’s the chance that this mold may explain most of your hatred towards them. Sure, he knows you have every right to despise them, but when he saw the look in your eye when you pushed him down that night of the award ceremony. He could tell you enjoyed inflicting pain on him.

This stuff in you must’ve made your temper more volatile and made you lash out at them.

It’s the only explanation.

“Excuse us,” a familiar voice calls throughout the cave, stoping his dead in his tracks.

That voice… No, it can’t be. There’s no way…

He turns around to see you, standing in the cave, all of them looking right at you. The small smile on your face making the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

“We believe there are some things we should talk about,” you say as you walk closer to them, making his children back up with each step you take.

“No fucking way,” Jason remarks, his eyes wide as saucers.

“Wait,” Tim says as he rushes over to the computer and rapidly types on the keyboard. “You can’t be Y/N. His phone says he’s still in Goodsprings and we’ve been monitoring his GPS signal, so there’s no way you could’ve come all the way to Gotham from Nevada without us knowing!”

That’s right, they’ve been monitoring your phone ever since Alfred helped them remember you, tracking you every move and committing your searches, social media usage, and all your texts and phone calls. They would’ve done the same to your computers that are linked to your phone, but your cybersecurity is tougher than they anticipated (clearly custom) and they haven’t been able to crack the encryption.

He knew you were skilled at making videos games, but he didn’t know your skills with technology expanded into cybersecurity. Ever since they made that discovery, Tim’s spent nearly all day trying to pierce your firewalls, but hasn’t made any progress. He’s also made it clear he wants to have lengthy conversations on computers and programming with you once you’re back home.

So, you’re still in Goodsprings, so who the hell is this, why the hell would they take your form, and how the hell did they get into the Cave without setting off any of the dozens of alarms or sensors?

“Who are you” Damian hisses, taking a defensive posture. “And what gives you the right to assume the form of my brother?”

“You have some nerve calling him your brother,” the Not-You hisses back, the smile morphing into an all-too familiar snarl. “He is too good for you, for any of you.”

Even though he knows this isn’t you, hearing those words in your voice still hurts him.

“Do you know Master Y/N,” Alfred interjects, trying to bring tensions down, most likely so he can learn more from this person.

“Yes, we do,” Not-You responds, looking at the butler, the snarl morphing into a look of… admiration? “And we know you, Alfred Pennyworth. We know of you and how you helped him during his stay in this wretched mansion. You have our gratitude.”

“Look, whoever you are, stop taking Y/N’s form,” Steph exclaims. “You’re obviously a shapeshifter, so turn back to normal! Or the very least, take a different form!”

“Oh, do you all wish for us to take another form,” the Not-You asks, a ghost of a smirk gracing “your” face.

“Yes,” Bruce says without hesitation.

It’s bad enough to see you look at them with such hatred, he won’t tolerate some imposter doing the same thing.

“Very well.”

Before them all, the Not-You turns into a shifting mass of some type of black organic mass before taking on a humanoid shape once again and Bruce’s heart stops when he takes in the new form.

“Hello, Bruce,” the shapeshifter says in a voice he hasn’t heard in years.

Not since that fateful night in Crime Alley.

“Good God,” Alfred says, his eyes wide and his jaw practically on the floor.

In front of them is his mother, every detail exactly how she was that night, still adorned in her favorite pearl necklace and wearing her green dress.

As he stares at her looking at him with those eyes that use to look at him with nothing less than unconditional love, he feels his breathing start to become erratic and eyes begin to mist up.

“What’s wrong, Bruce,” the shapeshifter says in her voice (god, even her voice was exactly how he remembered) as they begin to walk towards him, making him step back. “I thought you would be happy to see me. It has been so long since I was killed.”

“No,” he says, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “You’re not her. You can’t be.”

“But I am. Do you not see? I know everything you have done.” His mother’s face then morphs into a disgusted snarl, making him sick to his stomach. “And I am absolutely disgusted in you! Why did we have to die that night? Why not the disgrace we once called our son!”

He knows this isn’t his mother and she never would’ve called him a disgrace, but hearing those words in a voice he’s longed to hear for so long makes him want to cry.

He’s had dreams of seeing his mother’s in the flesh again and now he has to endure this berating? Is he truly that horrible of a man to deserve this?

“Stop it, you bitch,” Jason exclaims as he steps between Bruce and the shapeshifter. “Take another form or get the fuck outta here!”

“Oh, you want us to another form?” His… the shapeshifter shifts once again and in his mother’s place is…

“Hiya, Dead Hood,” Joker exclaims before exclaiming in that all-too familiar cackle and waving around a crow bar in his hand. “Did you miss me?”

It doesn’t take a detective to notice Jason tense up and his breathing stop; Joker left a mark on Jason that unfortunately will never be erased (another shortcoming that eats away at Bruce everyday) and whenever news of Joker escaping Arkham would bring up all the anger, fear, and sadness that was planted in Jason that night he died.

After Joker was killed, he noticed a weight seemed to be lifted off of Jason’s shoulders. Sure, he made jokes about the clown burning in hell, but Bruce could see he was genuinely happy and was ready to move on form that horrible chapter in his life.

And now, all that trauma is about to be dug back up after four years.

“You have five fucking seconds to take another form before I beat the shit outta you,” Jason says in a tone that says he means business, his eyes flickering into that shade of Lazarus green.

“How about this form,” the shapeshifter says in Joker’s voice before changing into John Grayson, making Dick tense up. “Or this form?” John Grayson then shifts into Janet Drake, making Tim tense up.

“Alright, you made your point,” Barbara shouts. “Just turn back into Y/N.”

And with that, the shapeshifter takes your form again.

“Who are you,” Bruce growls, pissed that his sons have had their trauma jabbed at. “We know you’re not Y/N, but you know him and us.”

You may call us the Megamycete.”

“Megamycete,” Tim asks. “So, you’re not human?”

“No, we are a super colony of mold given sentience via a Lazarus Pit.”

“Of course a fucking pit’s involved,” Jason mutters.

“What’s your tie to Y/N,” Dick interjects.

“Y/N is our host. Before, we were confined to a cavern beneath this city, but when we joined with him, we were freed from our prison.”

“So, you’re using him.”

The Megamycete glares at Bruce for his accusation.

“No, he and us operate on mutual trust and respect. Y/N is a respectable young man.” A smirk appears on “your” face. “A trait he clearly did not inherent from you.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. Even though this thing is probably the reason why you feel so much hate towards them, it still pains him to know this is his reality.

“Were you responsible for the Joker’s death,” Steph chimes in. “We found weird strains of mold in his remains and you’re a walking, talking pile of mold.”

“While we are not directly responsible for the Joker’s death, we do not deny we were involved. That night, Y/N took us out to Amusement Mile to celebrate when we learned the Joker was sighted in an arcade. Upon seeing the many deaths left in his wake, our host took matters into his own hands and eliminated the biggest threat this city had ever seen.” It gives Bruce a wide smirk. “In a single night, our host did more to help Gotham than you and your brood have done in years.”

Knowing you were responsible for killing Joker didn’t sit well with him. Sure, he’d accepted that Joker’s games were only going to end with one or both of them being dead a long time ago, but knowing that you, his son, had killed him…

“What about Harley,” Dick asks, breaking Bruce out of his thoughts. “He killed her too?”

“She forced his hand. He had no choice.”

“What do you mean he had no choice,” Dick shouts. “Did you force him?”

“Do not be stupid,” it says, glaring at his first son. “Our host was in complete control of his actions that night. We no more control his actions than you. The woman was a lost cause, without Joker to keep her in line, she would have punished all of Gotham as retribution for the loss of her love. Also, she would have informed you of him, causing you to devote all your resources to finding him. In order to both save Gotham from her wrath and himself from your scrutiny, Harley had to die.”

No, this thing has to be lying. There’s no way you, one of his sons, could ever rationalize killing someone. It had to have forced you to kill them. It had to…

“How did you even find Y/N,” Damian interjects.

Upon being asked that question, it smiles. And not a normal smile, but a smile that says it knows something they don’t know and something tells Bruce he’s not going to like it.

“He was thrown into our cavern after being left for dead.”

Bruce hears the words, but they just don’t process.

You were… left for dead? When? How?

“It was four years ago, while the butler was on his vacation. That day, his boss was forced to retire due to Gotham’s high crime, so he was forced to find another bus stop within Crime Alley as he had no other way of returning here, where he was unfortunately captured by three thugs and takes to a cabin in the nearby forest. They intended to ransome him off for a high price due to his school uniform.”

You were held hostage? Why didn’t you call for them? For him?

He knows you have no reason to think he’d help you with homework, but surely you’d call him if you were ever—

Just then, memories from that time frame kick in.

Random…

Phone call…

Oh… Oh no…

“Since the butler was out of the country, he actually reached out and gave the thugs the phone number for this manor.”

He so desperately wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

“You said all your children were with you and you all laughed and mocked the leader of the thugs.”

He sees all his children tense up at the realization and Alfred looks at him to see if it was true. Based on the butler’s look of shock and disbelief, he knows it’s the truth.

“The one time he reaches out to you for help, you laugh and mock. He needed you and you failed him in the worst way possible.”

He remembers that night. He thought it was so stupid that someone would think he wouldn’t know when one of his kids were missing. He said all his children were with him and meant it.

God, he really is the worst, isn’t he?

“After that phone call, the leader took all his frustrations out on our host, beating him until he could cry out for mercy no longer before shooting him in the head.”

He wants to cry when the image of you being beat up enters his head, and based on the way he flinches, so does Jason, who looks like he wants to cry.

Alfred looks like he’s ready to go nuclear and Bruce doesn’t blame him. Hearing all this years later and he had no idea what happened just proves he was never worthy of being your father.

“He was on the brink of death and had he not accepted our offer to become our host, he would be dead and the world would have been deprived of a brilliant mind.”

The thought of you dying brings a brunch of thoughts to the surface.

How long would it had taken him to notice you were missing?

How would he reacted upon learning you were dead?

Chances are your body would’ve never been found and all there would be to remember you by would be a tombstone with your name in the Wayne Cemetery. Hell, you’ve made it clear you want nothing to do with the Wayne name, so you probably would’ve never agreed to be buried with the rest of the Waynes.

“Our joining restored him to full health and gave him access to many powers, including our records.”

“Records,” Tim asks, clearly interested in this.

“We have existed for four-hundred years, our roots expanding towards every corner of this city. As our roots touched those buried beneath the ground, not only have we watched the goings-on of Gotham, but we absorbed the memories, knowledge, and structure of the deceased. As horrible as the city is, it has attracted many brilliant minds, like artists, scientists, engineers, and many more. He has access to the knowledge of these people, making him one of the smartest humans alive.” It chuckles. “In fact, many of your employees are in our records and he used this knowledge to get revenge on you, selling the secrets of your company to Lex Luthor for a tidy sum.”

You were the one who did that? He’s been racking his brain and reviewing network logs to find any sort of security breach and it was you using the remains of his dead employees.

“Alright, so that solves a lot of mysteries,” Dick interjects. “But that still leaves one: why are you here?”

“We have been by our host’s since that fateful night, peering through his memories and seeing the world through his eyes. Ever since he was forced to move to Gotham, none of you ever made him feel welcome here. For years, he wanted nothing more than to return to his rightful home, where he knew nothing but love. Now, after four years since his departure from this wretched manor, you appear, one after another, trying to bring him back to a place he despises more than anywhere else. We wish to know why.”

“He’s my son,” Bruce answers, not liking what this thing has to say.

“He’s family,” Dick adds. “Of course we’d want him back.”

“But none of you have ever made him feel that way. And if you are honest with yourselves, you never saw him as one of your own. You only want him because you feel guilty about how you treated him, and that guilt is making you believe you are owed a second chance. And you seek to obtain that second chance, no matter how much harm it does to him.”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re taking about,” Jason exclaims, clearly getting more and more pissed. “Yeah, we fucked up! But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s a part of this fucked up family!”

“He was never a part of this family. We know for a fact that he wishes he could take out the Wayne DNA and return it.”

“That’s because you’re manipulating him,” Damian interjects. “Nothing will change the fact that he’s my blood brother.”

“It is funny you say that when the last interaction you had with him was a fight.” It lifts hits arm and manifests a gold pen in its hand. “Do you remember this? This is the pen you tried to steal from him and then threw out into the rain when he gave you a much deserved slap upside your head. Do you know the significance of this item to our host?”

Bruce gets the feeling that he’s not going to like why that pen is so important to you and based off Alfred’s expression, that feeling gets even worse.

“This pen once belonged to his mother, made by her father when she set out to become an author. When she was taken from him, this pen was the only thing he had to remember her by. And you, the arrogant beast that you are, felt you had the right to take this, his most treasured possession, from him.” It turns its gaze from Damian to the rest of them. “And the rest of you supported this irreverent mongrel and condemned our host without listening to him before passing judgment.”

It seems like a day can’t go by that Bruce feels like the scum of the earth; ever since he learned of how he neglected you for years and forgot you even existed, his sense of worth has taken hit after hit. He was thinking about that argument you had with Damian and how furious he was when you refused to obey him not too long ago, thinking how stupid it was for you to cause so much trouble over a simple pen. Now to find out that “simple pen” was the only thing you had to remember your mother by…

It just never ends, does it?

He could spend the rest of his life atoning for everything he’s ever done to you, spend his last dollar to make your wildest dreams come true and he’d never come close to earning your forgiveness.

He knows he’s not the best father for his children, but he was never worthy of being your father and he’s certainly not that now.

“Y/N,” he whispers, knowing this isn’t you, but it has your face, your vice, and your memories, so it’s the next best thing. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He knows tears are falling from his eyes, surprising both Alfred and his children. He doesn’t want them to see him like this, but he can’t help it; the last few days have been one emotional turmoil after another and he’s reached his limits.

He failed his baby in every way possible.

“Now you understand,” it responds as it walks closer to him. “You fulfilled your purpose, Mr. Wayne. You brought Y/N into this world and had him brought to Gotham, where he was delivered into our custody. Now please, do not worry for him, we assure you we will provide him with true happiness. Go on, all you have to do is stay in Gotham and out of our host’s business.”

“Father,” Damian exclaims. “You can’t possibly be considering this!”

“Bruce,” Dick adds. “You aren’t going to actually do it, right?”

“Don’t fuck this up, Bruce,” Jason adds.

“We can’t just give up on him,” Tim adds.

“Yeah, he’s your son,” Barbara adds.

“He’s our brother,” Steph adds.

‘Family doesn’t give up on one another,’ Cass signs.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred warns, clearly not pleased at the thought of giving up on you.

He should, though. He knows that he’ll never be worthy of calling himself your father and you’ve made it clear you hate him and your siblings in every sense of the word. You wanted to go back to your childhood home in Goodsprings, a place that made you feel loved, something his home never made you feel. And the last four years were good to you based off your appearance and success. Plus, you had the Megamycete, that apparently has been more of a family to you than them.

If he was a good person, he’d put your needs and wants ahead of yours and agree to leave you alone and tell his children to do the same. Repeatedly harassing you would only make you hate them more and widen the gap between you and them. You don’t need them and clearly learned how to live without them. Over the past few days, he’s gathered every piece of information about you he can find and from what he sees, you love it in Goodsprings and fully intend on living in the house you and your mother lived.

But he’s not a good person, not by a long shot.

The night his parents were gunned down like animals in that disgusting alley, his sadness had turned into a bright inferno of rage; he wanted to inflict on every criminal that he met every ounce of his never ending vengeance and make them so afraid of him that they refuse to step outside whatever hole they call home, so that no one ever has to lose a child, a parent, a friend, or a loved one to some scumbag with a gun. That was his reason for donning the cowl.

After his parents were taken from him, he made it his mission to never lose anything of his ever again and two things that he holds dear more than anything in this world are Gotham and his family. And as long as he’s breathing, he’ll hold onto those two things until the bitter end.

Is it possible that in his mission to protect his city from Arkham’s inmates have made him forget the little details? Of course, Gotham needs Bruce Wayne as much as it needs Batman.

Is it possible that his need to hold onto his children with an iron grip has made him lose them on multiple occasions? Absolutely, he’s constantly remembering that his children are their own people and that even though they may leave him, they’ll always come home.

And that’s what his situation is with you. He knows he fucked up with you and he can never undo the damage he’s done to you, it doesn’t change the fact that you are his blood, his son, his firstborn.

You belonged to him the moment you were born and there’s nothing that can change that. He wishes he could go back in time and accept the gift of your affection that his past self spurred, but he can’t (his time as a Justice League member has taught him that going back in time is more trouble than it’s worth) and his only option is to move forward and make you see that the only place in this world for you is with him and your siblings here in Gotham, a city that has and always will belong to the Waynes.

And right now, this Megamycete is an obstacle standing in his way of completing his family. And if there’s one thing Bruce is very good at over the years, it’s overcoming obstacles.

“No.”

“Pardon,” it says, confusion etched onto its face.

“No,” he says loudly, making it clear he has no intention on letting you go. “Y/N is my son and their brother. He belongs here, with me and his family, not in some backwater town with some sentient mushroom. We’ll find a way to bring him back here and separate the two of you. And when we do, he’ll have all the time in the world to realize this is where he needs to be. Once he realizes that, all of Gotham will celebrate his return.”

He looks around and sees not only does his family seem happy with that statement, but they think the same as him.

The Megamycete looks at him, silent, seemingly shocked at his statement.

Then, it begins to laugh. First, just soft chuckles, then a laugh so loud, it echoes off the walls of the cave.

“Our host was right, you have clearly lost what sanity you had left. You reject him for years and now that you realize your folly, you seek to make amends? Please, spare us your delusions. This has nothing to do with our host and everything to do with your guilt. The moment you feel absolved, you will return to the status quo and forget he exists.” It motions to his children. “You have plenty of children here to drown in your need for forgiveness, surely you can make do with one of them.”

Then, it leans closer towards him, a smug look adorning its face.

“Also, Y/N belongs to us. He has the moment he fell into our cavern and will continue to until the end of time. Attempt to take him from us and you will suffer the same fate as those three thugs who left him for dead.”

It’s then another mystery gets solved: the slaughter at My Alibi. The three men in the back of the dining room who looked like they had gone through a meat grinder. That was your doing and they had been the ones to kidnap you and leave you for dead.

While he never advocates for killing people, he’s more than happy to make an exception for them. If they tried to kill you, they deserved to be slaughtered.

He only wishes they were still alive so he could pay them a visit before being turned over to Red Hood.

“We’ve fought plenty of Metas in the past. Do you really think you’ll be any different?”

“We have the knowledge and wisdom of countless people over the course of four-hundred years, all of them at the disposal of our host. You still think of him as that timid little thing from all those years ago, but he has become so much more since our joining. You believe yourselves superior than the rest of the general population, but you will find our host far surpasses you in every respect. He also possesses one thing your past adversaries never will.”

“And what’s that?”

“Unbridled hatred towards you.”

He wants to laugh at that. This thing must not have watched too carefully if it thinks people like Joker, Penguin, Poison Ivy, and so many in Arkham don’t hate his guts. He’s spent years being cursed at by all of Gotham’s rogues and beating all of the Riddler’s countless murder attempts to know Batman is at the top of many people’s Most Hated lists.

“If you don’t think half of Arkham doesn’t have dart boards with our pictures on them, you’re not as smart as you think you are,” Steph mocks.

“We do not doubt the genuine animosity the inmates hold towards you, but they are too far gone to imagine a life without any of you; you have foiled many of their crimes so many times, it has become one of the few constants in their lives. Every time they are put back in Arkham, they devote their time to coming up with their next attempt to best you until it is the only thing they care about. If any one of them were to ever defeat you, they would eventually realize how empty their lives are without you and their victory would soon sour.

“Joker would be a perfect example of this as he was as obsessed with you as you were of him.”

As much as he hates to admit it, the talking pile of mold is right. The clown made it clear that as much as he hated Batman, he was just as obsessed with him, going as far as to go after any criminal that took up too much of his time, Harley included in that.

And Bruce was just as obsessed with Joker, coming up with countless contingencies to counter any plot his sick and twisted mind could come up with, as well as devising security protocols and measures for Arkham to keep him contained and treatment plans to find a way possible bring his sanity back (assuming he had any to begin with).

“But our host is not like them. He has longed for a life free of you lot and now that he has that, he has no intention of surrendering it. Attempt to force him to return to this wretched manor and he will be more than happy to bring his fantasies of killing you a reality.”

He knows you hate them, but hearing that you hate them enough to fantasize about killing them cuts him deep.

“Please, I tried to kill Tim and Bruce back when I returned to Gotham,” Jason mocks, but Bruce can see Jason’s obviously concerned about hearing you thinking about killing them. “And Damian took a few tries at Tim. Everyone in this fucked up family’s got anger issues, it’s nothing weird.”

“You are kidding yourself if you believe you and that monster can a hold a candle to his fury. Your so-called anger is nothing more than a candle compared to the inferno that is his rage. You will feel the full might of his righteous fury, which will swallow you whole and leave nothing behind. And when you all are dead, you will be denied entry into our records.”

“So you don’t plan to absorb us,” Dick asks.

“Our host is the one who made that decision. To be added to our records is to be a part of us, and to be a part of us is to be a part of our host. He refuses to have you in his life in any way.” A small smile etches across its face. “We agree with his way of thinking. When you are gone, there will be nothing left and the world will forget any of you ever existed. And that is when our host’s revenge will finally be complete.”

It takes everything Bruce has to not flinch.

With this… thing inside you, what are you capable of? Would you really attack them with intent to kill? Would you really murder your own family?

“Make all the threats you want, creature,” Damian boldly states. “Nothing will stop us from bringing Y/N home.”

“Then this concludes our meeting, we suppose. We had hoped that we could convince you the best thing for you and our host would be to leave him alone and let the past rest, but we see now you all are too deep into your delusions to see reason. We look forward to seeing our host tear you apart, bit by bit.”

In the blink of an eye, the Megamycete turns bone white and crumbles like chalk, scattering all over the floor, leaving them all to stare at the remains in silence.

“So,” Alfred says, breaking the silence. “Was anyone ever going to tell me about a call regarding a random?”

The tension becomes so think, Bruce thinks he’ll start to choke on it. He racks his brain to come up with any answer, but doesn’t find any. At lease not one that won’t make Alfred pissed.

Clearly his children came to the same conclusion, because they remained silent as well, looking away or at the floor when he met their gaze.

“I have to say out of all the disgraceful things all of you have done throughout the years, this definitely takes the cake. I know Master Y/N wasn’t a priority for any of you, but I never would’ve dreamed you would allow him to be put in danger like being held hostage by common thugs.” Every word he says is dripping in venom. “I am absolutely disgusted with all of you.”

The words cut him deep and he deserves it. It was thanks to his incompetence that led to you being kidnapped, beaten to a pulp, shot in the head, and tossed into a cavern like trash and left for dead in a place no one would ever find you.

There’s nothing he can do that will ever make up for all that he’s done to you. He can apologize until he loses his voice permanently, spend all his money to buy you apology gifts, and subject himself to whipping by your hand until he’s lost every bit of his skin and he’d never scratch the surface of everything he’s done to you.

You came to him, a scared little child who just lost his mother and was forced to move to a massive city to live with a man he’s never met and all you wanted was for him to tell you that he loved you and that everything was going to be alright, but no, he was too caught up in his work as Batman instead of finding a healthy way of dealing with losing Jason.

But that’s not all he did, was it?

As much as he wants to, he can’t deny that he replaced you with Tim after the boy lost his parents. He suffered the same loss as you, but he gave Tim the help he needed while denying it to you. But that’s his fault, not Tim’s. His inadequacies are his alone to deal with, not any of his children’s (a lesson he keeps forgetting).

And he did the same thing several more times, bringing in more children and giving them all the love and affection you were denied as a child. He can’t help but wonder what went through your mind as you saw him spending time with them, both in groups and individually. And when you watched them hanging out in the dining room when they came home from patrol, enjoying themselves and each other while you were left alone in some room barely the size of a closet.

God, how many times did you wonder when you’d be asked to join before giving up?

When exactly did you give up on them?

And of course, he can’t forget about how he handled you and Damian meeting, another sign he was never fit to be a father. He knew Damian’s LoA upbringing left him unable to interact with others the proper way, but he still allowed him to see you (because he never considered your safety a priority) and allowed the boy to draw a sword on you, give you a scar on your face, and make several threats on you and insult your mother.

And what did he do after that?

Did he do the responsible thing by taking away the sword, scold the boy for his unacceptable behavior, and make it clear you were his brother and that he’s not allowed to hurt you?

No, of course not.

He did nothing but carry Damian off while allowing him to shout even more threats and insults, thinking nothing about the harm you just experienced and thinking Damian would just outgrow of his behavior on his own.

If he had to guess, it was probably that day you realized you didn’t matter to him and that Damian was the only one he considered a biological son.

Y/N, his baby boy.

He’s so sorry.

“This doesn’t change anything,” Bruce finally says, making his family turn their eyes to him. “We still need to bring Y/N home. Meeting this Megamycete just makes it more important we get him back to the manor.”

“And if Master Y/N fights you? Based off what you were able to gather from both crime scenes, this Megamycete appears to make him a formidable opponent.”

“We can find a way to neutralize it,” Tim chimes in, motioning to the crumbled remains. “I’ll analyze the remains to find a weakness.”

“And if that’s not enough, it said it has roots all over Gotham,” Barbara adds. “I can use the Clocktower to locate the closest sample.”

“Say you manage to subdue Master Y/N and rid him of the Megamycete. What then?”

“Then we make it clear he’s a part of our family now. And we’ll keep telling him that until he believes it. And when he does, we’ll give him the love we should have given him.”

Alfred looks at him before glancing at his children, all of them nodding in agreement.

“I shall hold all of you to that promise. We have a second chance to right our wrongs. I highly doubt we’ll be given another. But don’t think for a second this conversation is over.”

And with that, the butler turns on his heel and promptly makes his way out of the cave, clearly still furious at them.

“Alright, everyone,” he says, getting their attention. “We have work to do. Barbara, get to the Clocktower and start searching for the Megamycete’s roots. Tim, start analyzing the remains and see what you can find. And be ready to receive new samples. The rest of you, be ready to go out and retrieve the roots.”

They nod and set out to work, leaving him with his thoughts.

Fuck, after hearing all that, his mother probably sees him as a failure now. He had so many opportunities to make this right, but he being the complete and total fuck up that he is, missed them, leaving you all alone to fall into the hands of low-life thugs and a sentient mushroom.

He balls his fists so tight so tight he draws blood, but not caring at the pain or the drops of crimson falling onto the cave floor.

All he had to do was be there for you, love you, tell you he’d always be there for you, but he couldn’t do that. When he first learned of you, he was shocked to hear that he had actually been stupid enough to not take precautions to prevent getting a woman pregnant and actually thought you were an inconvenience, blaming you for something that wasn’t your fault. You hadn’t asked to be born, you didn’t ask to lose your mother in such a tragic way, and you sure as hell didn’t ask to be given to a man who had no right to be called a father.

He—

No, this line of thinking isn’t doing him any favors.

He takes a deep breath and releases it, throwing all his thoughts and emotions into a dark corner of his mind and locking them behind a massive door (like he always does instead of dealing with them in a healthy way). He’s done the same thing to so many other thoughts and feelings, what’s the harm in doing it now?

What he needs to do now is find a way to deal with a Megamycete and figuring out a method of getting close to you to administer it so they can bring you back home. While that’s already an uphill battle, the true war will be convincing you that they’ve changed and that you need to come back to the manor and live with them.

You’re his son and the brother to his children. And as much as you want to deny it, you have Wayne blood coursing through your veins, tying you to him and Gotham. You belong here, by his side.

And when this is over, he’ll throw the largest gala Gotham’s ever seen to show his love for you.

He’ll do whatever it takes if it means having you back home so h and your siblings can bathe you in their love and affection.

Even if it means taking away your powers and dragging you back here.

Like he said, he’s not a good person.

Tag List: @space1crow @lunaluz432 @type-ink @bat1212 @eyeless-kun @deathbynarcisstick @minkyungseokie @orbitingtraveler @1s3v3n1 @nosyrobin @roseytheteacup @bunbunboysworld @kitty-from-daaaa-voidddd @feral-childs-word @phoenixgurl030 @soriansick @hellcatsworld @bellethesleepypotato @prettyboys247 @marsmabe @exactlynumberonekryptonite @paolexsstuff @fantasyhopperhea @c0l1fl0r @ellaprime7 @starryperson @kore-of-the-underworld @kiarst @vanessa-boo @moxiemy @ratchetprime211 @greatwhisperspaper @tatsuri-zomushiki @bunbunbread @starsdotalk @luna57765 @solelifauna @jsprien213 @diejager @lizz-lrm @v0idl1nq @chericia

[minhosimthings]

Lucifer|| Prolouge

Synopsis: After you found your husband cheating on you, you found a different kind of comfort in his devilishly handsome colleagues.

Pairings: detective 02z × fem!reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, suggestive, minors please do not interact, catcalling, mention of alcohol, reader is cheated on by Heeseung, cheating (which I do not condone in real life)

A/N: Prologue for my 02z short series everyone! I abandoned everything else after Enha dropped Memorabilia just to write this BECAUSE I CAN. I will try to put out the oneshots as early as possible and I hope all of you will enjoy it! Au revoir!

Taglist: Open

Series Masterlist

Crystalline tears filled your eyes as you walked under the dark azure sky. Your feet ached, your heart thumped hard against its prison and your mind spun and yet you kept walking. Walking somewhere, you didn't even bother to understand.

Adjusting your skirt, and moving your scarf down to reveal your bloodied lips from having bitten them too much, you tried to recall what had happened today that made you so miserable. Was it the broken coffee machine, or was it the recent murders in the newspaper? Or was it a person? Perhaps it was the latter.

Heeseung.

You loved Lee Heeseung. With all of your soul and all of your heart you loved him all the way through the bright Mays and the chilly Decembers. You loved him in a way only the setting sun could love the ocean, the way its rays danced with the water so gracefully.

And yet you caught him in your own bedroom, strong sinews of muscles handling another girl's lusty bones, as she merged her body with someone you thought belonged to you.

His apologies went deaf to your ears, you spent an hour or so packing up all your things and driving out the house without a second thought. You didn't even realise how much time you spent screaming your head off at him, trying hard to stop your tears from escaping their barrier as you shoved each and every gift he ever gave you into his arms and asked him to burn them to the ground. And yet you didn't know how to cope without them either.

Your mother never taught you how to handle grief without alcohol and your father's blood always seeped through your mouth in words of fire and fury everytime something went wrong. It was no wonder you had found comfort in Heeseung, a man who could handle all of your pain and all of your anger.

You had trusted him with your life, marrying him happily to escape your childhood home and entrusting in him your most beloved secrets, your love and dedication and your virginity as well. You thought that had been enough, staying home whilst Heeseung worked his ass off at the police station to provide you with everything you could ask for and more.

And when he came home, you were his toy, a plaything for him to release his stress on and yet you didn't budge. Why should you? When you were recieving all the pleasure you could ever want and giving all the pleasure back to your husband. Nevertheless, you stared at your empty ring finger now, hands shivering in the cold as you scolded yourself on not wearing mittens. Heeseung used to scold you too.

Lee Heeseung. What would you have done to absolutely irradicate Lee Heeseung?

You had parked your car at the nearby park where you knew it'd be safe, and had gone for a walk. Thoughts rushed to your mind. You had known about Heeseung's affair for some time now, but you wanted to catch him in the act, to prove to the world, to yourself, that your melancholic delusion could be justified. Here you were now, dragging your feet across the cemented pavement, knowing there's only one other place you could go to. The darkness was a bad place for a woman to be, at 10 pm but you didn't give a single fuck about anything as your prosaic body tried to get itself up. You swore you could have heard voices behind you.

"Hey, hey you!" You heard a voice shout behind you, "What's a pretty lady doin' in a place like this?"

You gulped in fear as your feet sped up. Stupid stupid girl, you thought to yourself, should have stayed in the goddamned car!

"Hey you ignorin' me?" The voice shouted again, and you could hear the gruff footsteps which followed you, getting closer by the moment, "Stop fucking runnin' away from me!"

Your heart pumped blood faster as you picked up your skirt and ran, at the fastest speed you could. This wouldn't have happened if Heeseung was here!, you thought, and though a part of your brain tried to scold you about still thinking about him, at the moment all you were focused on was getting somewhere safe.

The man's drunken voice could still be hear by your ears, and his harsh footsteps told you he was running behind you, chasing you as if you were a wild mongrel to be caught and leashed.

Only one place. Only one place you could go now.

Turning swift on your feet, you ran down the wide lane filled with shops on one side and the empty road on the other, being careful not to crash into the glowing streetlights, as your destination came into your visage.

The police station. Where you knew, your last hope would be standing.

|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|

"Got the Samson case solved yet?" Sunghoon yawned and stretched his limbs above his head, like a prosaic cat, "Man I could do with a drink right now."

"It's 10 pm." Jake checked his pocketwatch, running his hand through his hair as he always did, "What bar is going to be open at this time?"

"Hey, should we steal Jay's stash?" Sunghoon glanced, with mischievous eyes at Jake, who mirrored an equally mischief filled smile back.

"Don't even think about touching my bourbon." A dark haired man, with eyes as black as kohl, walked in, equally black gloves decorating his hands, "Unless you want to be stuck on traffic duty all week."

"Who pissed in your cereal today?" Sunghoon snickered, leaning back in his chair, a crack of his bone could be heard as he lazily stretched, "Let me guess, Heeseung?"

"Is it about his wife again?" Jake groaned, hair tangled in his hand again, "Jay, just leave it man, they'll sort it out."

"Sort it out?" Jay looked at the long haired man with a quizzical look, "What kind of a man cheats on a beautiful woman and brags about it?"

"Most of them." Sunghoon broke out into his drawer, hands reaching for a eloquent wooden pipe, which he lit and transferred to his mouth, sighing out the smoke as he relaxed into his chair, "You're too righteous to understand that, Jongsoeng."

Jay wrinkled his nose, as Sunghoon blew a puff of cigarette smoke into the air. Settling into his own chair, Jay's eyes flickered towards Heeseung's desk, where files lay messily scattered. A solitary photo frame brightened up the lonely atmosphere of the desk. Lee Y/N, Jay thought, his wife, not yours.

"Jay, come on, stop sulking over your little crush," Jake scoffed, his hands busy with a sleek, brownish-yellow bottle in his hand, "Just have a drink and get your mind off it."

"First of all, how did you get into my bourbon cabinet." Jay snatched the glass from Jake's hand, and toyed with it protectively, "Second of all, I can't just get my mind of it. I mean, come on," He extended his glass out to Jake who poured the elysian liquid into Jay's glass, "Who the fuck would have the gall to cheat on such a pretty woman who loves him to bits?"

"Look, you like her right? And don't say no, we all know it Jongsoeng." Sunghoon leaned forward in his chair, "So when she finds out about everything, just offer to take her home and, you know, let her sob into your arms and then take her into your bedroom and-"

"Since when did you start reading romance?" Jake chuckled, pressing a glass of bourbon to his lips.

"Since lover boy here started crushing on..what's her name? Y/N wasn't it?" Sunghoon laughed, taking another piquant drag of his pipe, "I get it, she is really pretty."

'Really pretty' was one way to describe you, Jay thought, smiling into his glass of bourbon. Every inch of you called out to him, beckoned him closer and closer to your poisonous radius. It wasn't that he didn't try to fight it, lusting after another's wife, but it was that he found that hidden sadness in your eyes heartbreaking everytime he looked into them.

"Want to head home, fellas?" Jake briskly sat up straight in his chair, "Or are either of you going to stop at a brothel?"

"Don't have time for that." Sunghoon chuckled darkly, putting out his pipe, "Plus I've got a-"

Bang!

The door of the quite airy police station burst open with a loud bang, and it seemed as if a hurricane in the guise of a panicked woman had swept in, alarming the three detectives. The sudden action caused them to act on their reflexes, pulling out their revolvers faster than their eyes could comprehend the sight in fron them. Jake's eyes seemed to work the quickest.

"Ma'am? Are you alright?" Jake called out, signalling the other two to lower their weapons. He stepped forward and turned a switch on, which caused the entire room to light up in bright light, contrasting to the soft yellow light that earlier shone from the desk lamps.

Jay's senses had seemed to ding up after the initial shock of the entire thing, as he walked forward with careful steps towards you, as Jake and Sunghoon whispered to each other, making out why you were here. Your eyes took a moment to register the man in front of you.

Jay Park, you thought, a man who was perfection incarnated.

"Y/N," Jay spoke softly, careful not to frighten you, "What are you doing here? Are you alright?" He looked you up and down to check for any disfigurements.

"I-" you spoke, your throat tightening by the moment, "Heeseung—he" you couldn't speak any more as his name uttered out your mouth. Bursting into tears, you buried your face in your hands as you felt your cheeks burn up with embarrassment. You really weren't crying in front of your (ex) husband's colleagues, men who you barely knew, apart from the usual condolences.

You felt warm, strong muscles pull you into their hold. It felt like a cozy cocoon, scented with the fragrance of pine and paper.

"Calm down, doll," Jay whispered into your ear, his hot breath fanning your neck, "take a breath for me."

Jay coached you through breathing in and out, which restored some of your consciousness. You had nearly been on the verge of fainting, with how much you had ran.

"Can I—May I sit down for a moment?" You asked, weary of the other two men's eyes watching you, "Please."

"Of course." Jay said, supporting your figure with his sinews as he led you over to his cubicle. You could see the other two hastily clearing out messy piles of papers. The shorter one, you assumed was Jake, from his drooped posture and lion-like hair. The taller one then, had to be Sunghoon, with porcelain skin and an ice cold gaze.

"Did-did you walk all the way from your house?" Jake questioned, offering you a seat, which you gratefully collapsed into.

"No, just the park nearby." You shot him a small smile through your croaky voice, which he returned, "My car's still parked there though. I drove from" you stopped in your words uncertain to say his name, "-from Heeseung's house."

You felt the tension in the room as you said those words. Heeseung's house, you thought, it had been home once. You felt Jay shift his position in the chair next to you, and Sunghoon transfer his weight to one foot, whilst leaning on the desk.

"If you want us to go beat him up, we'll gladly do it." Sunghoon offered, making you chuckle and shake your head.

"No it's fine, I mean she wasn't that pretty anyway, he's bound to lose interest in her some day or the other." You smiled, to no one but yourself. Humour had never been your strong suit.

"Aww man I really wanted to beat him up." Sunghoon feigned defeat, "Asshole deserves it for how much paperwork he gave me."

"That's the only reason you want to beat him up?" You raised a brow at the light skinned man, who raised one back.

"And for betraying a pretty lady of course." He winked at you, making you internally roll your eyes.

"Would-would you like some bourbon?" Jake awkwardly offered you a glass. You could see the embarrassment in his eyes the moment he asked the question, "Or water if you want-"

"I'll take the bourbon." You grabbed the glass from Jake, who, with his shocked eyes poured you a glass, which you downed immediately without flinching in front of the three startled detectives, "Can I have another?"

"Can we have some too?" Sunghoon smirked at you, grabbing his own glass and beckoning Jake to pour him a shot. Jay, admitting defeat, had grabbed a glass too, filled with the bubbly alcohol.

"Well," Sunghoon raised his glass in a toast, "to Heeseung hopefully getting bored of the other woman."

"Peculiar toast, Detective Park." You laughed, "I like it."

The moments that followed still felt like a fever dream to you. You had sat in a building, alone with three handsome men, talking down right shit about your husband, whilst drinking more bourbon than you ever had and although you had already defeated Jake in drinking (almost) half a pint, you still wanted more. This definetly was not on your itinerary for the evening, but did you care at this point? Absolutely not.

"Ugh fuck." You swore under your breath. You probably shouldn't have drank that much, but in all honestly, it would have helped to relieve some of the painful memories of the night.

"Woah steady there." Jay looked at you cautiously as you stirred in your chair. Jake was on the verge of passing out, having even taking his glasses off, while Sunghoon and Jay, who hadn't drank as much, looked as calm as the winds.

"You know what?" You started, not knowing the words coming out of your drunken mouth anymore, "Fuck Lee Heeseung, fuck that man." A sudden maniacal giggle from your mouth seemed to have amused Sunghoon.

"Fuck in what terms, Mrs Lee?" He asked, trying to hide his cunning smirk, whilst ignoring Jay's warning glares.

"Mrs Lee?" You questioned, feeling your senses come back, though you were still tipsy, "Who's Mrs Lee? Not me, no sir-ee." You laughed, "If I had the chance to chop off that asshole's dick right now, I would."

"But you wouldn't allow us to beat him up? Strange." Sunghoon whistled out in his usual cocky tone.

"It's getting late." Jay checked the grand clock in the corner of the room, his eyes wavered over the dried tears on your face, it was alarming to him how much a mere glass of bourbon had managed to get you giggling like a cuckoo, "Y/N I can drop you-"

"I'd rather fuck all of you in one night rather than see that idiot's face again." You chuckled again, this time, saying the sentence with full seriousness. Did you really mean it?, perhaps not, as you would have thought later on. But were you up for having sex with three extremely attractive men who happened to be the best friends of your ex-husband? That, was a definite yes.

"Oh really?" Sunghoon placed his forearms on the desk in front of him, leaning in closer to your face. Jay's hand clutched harder against the edge of the desk. "And what if I say yes to that proposal?"

"What are you implying, Detective Park?" You looked into his dark, devilish eyes, "That you'd have sex with someone pathetic enough to get cheated on?"

"Don't say that, you're not pathetic." Jay's eyes softened as he looked at you, but you merely scoffed, turning your face instead to look at Sunghoon, who was evidently smirking. You caught Jake's widened eyes from the corner of your eye, listening intently.

"How about this-" Sunghoon started, folding his arms, "You get a night of good sex, I get a night of good sex, you and I both get to rub that in Heeseung's face, and then we have breakfast in France."

"Are you married Detective Park?" You quizzed him with an amused face, his offer seemed at the very least, interesting to you.

"Not yet, no. I'm still young aren't I?", Sunghoon's mouth stretched like a cat's into a lazy smile, "Why do you ask? Are you....perhaps intrigued by my offer?"

There was something ironic about that sentence "I'm still young" that struck a chord within you, you were the same age as him and yet you were sitting there talking about your husband.

"Intrigued is one way to put it." You smiled back, hoping you looked anything like a vixen, matching the bastardous fox like energy of Sunghoon's, "But don't you think it's greedy of you, Detective Park? To want me all to yourself?"

"And what do you mean by that, Miss Y/N?" Jake smiled in his boyish manner, "Is Sunghoon here not enough for you?"

"I'm just saying." You held up your hands in mock defence, "wouldn't you both like to get a taste too?"

You glanced at Jay in the corner, who you had expected to be shaking his head in disapproval. But to your utter surprise, he had one of his gloves hands stroking his chin as if in deep thought. His eyes were dark even in the fluorescent light of the room, deep pools of cataclysmic waters floating around in his pupils. He looked vaguely interested.

"So just to recap," Jake started, clearing his throat, such that his Adam's apple was clearly visible, "You want us to bed you, so as to make your ex husband, our colleague and friend, someone's whose wife we definetly should not be sleeping with, jealous?"

"That's the blueprint." You said in a sweet honeyed voice, "How exactly you make him know that I'm not his anymore, you figure that out. If I even so as look at that man's face again, I will jump off a cliff."

"But the question is-" you put on a proud smile, eyes darting from one man to the next, "Who's going first?"

"Shouldn't you decide that sweetheart?" Jay's deep voice came like a rumble through the ground during an earthquake, slightly startling you. He hadn't said anything in the past few minutes, his sudden break of silence alarmed you.

"Alright then." You chuckled, not daring to meet Jay's eyes, you knew you'd melt as soon as you saw them, "How about the person who suggested this?" You turned your face towards a smirking Sunghoon, with his head held high like a peacock's, "Detective Park?"

"Shall I go with the lady's word boys?" Sunghoon asked Jake, who nodded his head, taking his glasses off the desk and outting them on again. The effect it had in him was quite handsome, according to you.

"Should we make a pact then?" Jake asked cheekily, glancing around for a piece of paper, finally picking one up from underneath the mountain of files lying on the wisened wood. Putting it down on the paper, he scribbled something down quickly, showing it off proudly to the others. You let out a laugh when you saw what he wrote.

"'The make Heeseung jealous organisation'?" You laughed, "I can't tell if you're serious or not."

"I'm dead serious." Jake looked at you with glossy eyes, he always was a funny one, you recalled, "Come on everyone, I need signatures."

He's serious about this, you thought, amused at Jake's comedic demeanor. You swiftly pressed the black ink to the paper, leaving off a flashy signature to decorate it. Jay signed off last, with an impeccable font.

Words couldn't have described that very evening. No sentence that could come out of your mouth could have ever even begun to explain to a complete stranger about how you had ended up in Sunghoon's car, driving to his house in silence. Shrugging off the moral doubts in the corner of your brain, you stared out the window into a dewy night.

Relax, you thought to yourself, there wasn't anything wrong with what you were doing.

Was there?

Taglist: Open! Send an ask or comment to be added.

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Fergie Frederiksen - Ulysses 31 1981

Ulysses 31 (Ulysse 31 in France and Uchu Densetsu Yurishizu Satiwan or Space Legend Ulysses 31 in Japan) is a French-Japanese science-fiction/action/adventure/drama anime series. As the name implies, it is based on Homer's The Odyssey (Odysseus is Ulysses in Latin) and heavily borrows plot elements from it as well as various plot elements and characters from other famous Greek myths. It was conceptualized and written by French writer and animation producer Jean Chalopin (who went on to create The Mysterious Cities of Gold (poll #545) and Inspector Gadget (poll # ? :) ) in the following years) and French writer Nina Wolmark (who later created Spartakus and the Sun Beneath the Sea), and co-produced by Tokyo Movie Shinsha studios and DiC Entertainment under the artistic supervision of illustrator Bernard Deyriès.

In the 31st century, spaceship commander Ulysses flies home from a galactic conflict he helped end peacefully on the planet Troy. On the way back to Earth where his beloved Penelope awaits, he rescues his son Telemachus and two young blue-skinned aliens, Yumi and Numinor, from a sacrifice by destroying a cyborg creature called the Cyclops. But this action by Ulysses angers the gods who rule the universe of Olympus, from which it came. Zeus curses Ulysses by dragging his ship, the Odysseus, into the Olympus galaxy, putting his crew in suspended animation, and erasing the ship's memory files that contain Earth's location, until he finds the Kingdom of Hades, at which point his crew will be revived and he will be able to return to Earth.

The series, the first known French-Japanese collaboration in animation, is an unusual product of international collaboration that is still to this day rather unique in its quality. A second season was planned but ultimately cancelled. It was originally planned to be animated by computer, but the single wireframe model generated (a torus) was still too complex to render for the machines used by the production companies at the time. So, the only computer animation left is the opening credits.

Most of the original soundtrack was composed by Denny Crockett and Ike Egan, with six additional themes composed by Shuki Levy. The Japanese version has a different soundtrack. The music was composed by Wakakusa Kei, who made the soundtrack in both the series and pilot that was produced in 1980. An official soundtrack was released in 1986 on vinyl and on CD in 1988. The English version of the intro was sung by Dennis "Fergie" Frederiksen, an American rock singer best known as the former lead singer of Trillion, Angel, LeRoux, and Toto, as well as providing backing vocals for Survivor.

"Ulysses 31" received a total of 69% yes votes!

[claramelooo]

WOVEN FATES (15/20)

I'm late, but I'm sure! Sorry guys! My routine is crazy, really. I'm still trying to adapt. But I think I needed this as much as you did!

Cliffhanger, huh?? You didn't see anything yet muhahahaha 😈

Enjoy <3

MINORS MUST NOT INTERACT

Pairing: AgathaRio x Fem Reader

Summary: After Billy's speech, you end up finding out what was wrong and you have to fix it or not.

Hey! Now I've a masterlist

The Truth

You were frozen. Your eyes, slightly widened, and your exasperated breathing locked onto theirs as they searched yours like you were a case to be studied.

Source?

What the hell was this, anyway?

You ran your tongue over your lips nervously, debating whether you should ask the question burning on the tip of your tongue. After releasing the breath trapped in your chest, you spoke:

"The what…" You started, your lungs tight. "What is a source?"

The word echoed in your mind, an irritating hum clouding your thoughts.

"Someone from whom everything originates?" Yelena said, trying to sound obvious, only to receive a reprimanding look from Alice.

The young woman stepped closer to you, feeling your growing desperation drowning you. "So, do you remember the legend?" she began, her tone cautious as if you were fragile glass about to shatter. "A mystical being, vast, powerful, that drains energy—life itself."

She finished with careful precision, and you let out a disbelieving laugh.

"Oh, come on, Alice?! What kind of stupid joke is this?" You laughed, but the lump in your throat still scraped at you. "That was our dumb school project, Alice! It has nothing to do with—" you narrowed your eyes, fighting back the tears threatening to spill.

"I lied!" Alice’s voice broke, sharp and desperate, making everyone in the circle flinch. "I lied, okay? It's real. And Rio Vidal is that ." Her voice cracked at the end.

The ground disappeared beneath you.

Rio.

Your Mama.

No. No, that couldn’t be.

"This is bullshit." The words were thick in your throat. You wouldn’t believe this. "Oh, let me guess—Agatha is the woman who saved Rio from herself and was turned into some horrid monster?!" Your sarcastic tone made Alice clench her jaw.

"A witch. Agatha Harkness is a witch," Billy interjected.

"And how the hell do you know that?!" Anger flared in you—pure, burning rage. They were talking about your mothers.

You wanted to kill them.

Sew their mouths shut so they could never speak these atrocities again.

So they could never hurt you like this again.

"It's what they say." He shrugged, completely unfazed. He didn’t care. And that only made you angrier.

"And who the fuck are ‘they’?" You took a dangerous step forward, breathing hard through your nose.

Billy kept twirling a card between his fingers, annoyingly calm. His eyes were sharp, like a cat toying with its prey. "Have you never felt it? The constant exhaustion. The need to always be near them. The way your body feels… drained whenever you're away?"

Your stomach churned.

You had felt it. You always had.

Because there had always been something. Something you could never name, but that slithered under your skin every time you were apart from them.

A weariness that wasn’t just physical. A hunger that wasn’t for food. An emptiness that only faded when Rio touched your face or Agatha whispered soft words into your ear.

The lump in your throat tightened.

"This doesn’t make sense," your voice came out weaker now, less certain. "Are you trying to say that—"

"That they’re more than you think," Billy finished, tossing the card onto the table.

You looked down at the deck, the symbols shimmering as if laughing at you.

"So what?" Your own voice surprised you. The rage had faded, replaced by something more fragile, more dangerous. "If Rio is this… If Agatha is this… then what does that make me?"

Fuck this!

They were yours, and you would defend them with everything you had.

Alice hesitated.

She finally moved, placing a trembling, cold hand over yours. "We’re not telling you this to scare you."

"Then what the fuck is the point?" Your voice was sharp, but your heart pounded wildly.

Jennifer let out a low, nervous chuckle. "We want to help you."

"Help me?" You laughed.

You didn’t want their help. You wanted them.

"With the truth."

The words hung heavy in the air.

Billy flipped the card toward you. The image depicted a pure, shining spring of water, but around it, dark shadows drank from it, draining its glow until the source became shallow, dull.

"Sources don’t last forever, you know..." he said, his voice disturbingly gentle. "Eventually, they dry up."

It felt like the air was stolen from your lungs.

Your chest clenched. Your mind refused to accept it, but your body betrayed you—your skin prickled, your stomach burned.

"You’re saying that I…"

"That you’re being used," Jennifer finished bluntly.

The world stopped.

No.

No, that couldn’t be true.

But the gears in your mind began turning.

The exhaustion. The heat. The overwhelming need to be near them. Agatha holding you in her lap as if cradling you after a nightmare. Rio always knowing when you were about to break.

Dread clenched your chest like a fist.

"No." You shook your head. "This is insane. You don’t even know what you’re talking about!"

Billy leaned back, crossing his arms. "We can prove it."

Alice bit her lip, hesitating.

Tears stung your eyes as you stood up abruptly. Alice followed, grabbing your hands in a futile attempt to calm you. "Breathe," she said, her fox-like eyes watching you closely.

"I know it sounds crazy. But this… This force exists, and now it’s in you."

You tried to yank your hands away, but Alice held on. Not forcefully, but with a gentle insistence, as if she feared you’d disappear if she let go.

"This doesn’t make sense." Your voice cracked. You swallowed against the bile rising in your throat. "I’m nothing. I’m not special. I don’t even know what you’re talking about!"

"But they do."

Billy spoke quietly, his dark eyes locked onto yours. "All four of them. Agatha, Rio, Calderu… Wanda."

Her name hit you like a slap.

"I—" You stepped back, only to feel the edge of the table press against your back.

Alice loosened her grip slightly. "Breathe."

But you couldn’t.

They knew.

They had always known.

The things that once made sense—the overwhelming affection, the intense looks, the way it felt like you were being absorbed by them—now felt wrong. Stained.

You shook your head, struggling to inhale. "This… This can’t be real."

"Then why are you reacting like this?" Yelena asked, raising a brow.

Alice stepped closer, eyes locked onto yours as if watching a wild animal about to bolt.

"Because, on some level," she whispered, "you already knew."

The silence in the room thickened, heavy and suffocating. You could feel the weight of their gazes pressing into you, burning your skin, as if they were waiting—no, hoping—you would understand.

But you didn’t want to.

The air felt too thin. Your lungs refused to work, as if something dense and invisible wrapped around your throat. Your heartbeat was erratic, too fast, too wild.

"This doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t. It doesn’t." Your voice was a whisper, broken and pained, a desperate mantra that still echoed through the stifling room. You looked around, waiting for someone to laugh, to say this was some cruel joke.

But no one laughed.

Billy just watched you, arms crossed over his chest. Jennifer averted her gaze to the table, her fingers tapping anxiously against the carved wood. Yelena sighed, like she had seen this moment unfold before.

But it was Alice who stepped closer again, her fox-like eyes locked onto yours, filled with something you couldn’t name.

“Breathe,” she whispered again.

But you couldn’t.

You swallowed hard, your knees threatening to buckle, and everything seemed to snap inside you. Like your mind was trying to connect the dots. Like something was whispering in your ear, but you couldn’t understand it.

Agatha. Rio. Calderu. Wanda.

The four of them.

Always close. Always present. Always touching, watching, calling your name like a prayer.

Always taking care of you.

Protecting?

Or feeding?

After all, that’s all you were, right?

Your stomach twisted, and you had to grip the edge of the table. Your vision blurred for a moment.

They knew.

They always knew.

The wave of emotions was too much, too raw, and the words slipped out before you could stop them:

“How is this possible?” Your voice shook, and you hated it. “Why me?”

Alice sighed, as if she had been expecting that question. The others remained silent, but you could feel the electricity in the air, the dense tension between them.

Billy was the first to break it.

“The pure, untainted energy of a good heart is one of the most valuable resources in existence,” he said, spinning a card between his fingers. “It’s more than enough to make hidden beings desire it.”

You frowned, not understanding.

“Why?”

Alice squeezed your hands. Her gaze was intense, sharp, like she was measuring how deep she could go before you broke.

“Because it invigorates them,” she explained. “It strengthens, sustains, rejuvenates. You’ve heard stories of how ancient gods were nourished by the worship of their followers? How their temples were centers of energy, rituals, sacrifices?”

You nodded slowly, your own breath coming unevenly.

“It’s possible through sex too,” Jennifer said, her voice light but cutting.

Your insides turned to ice.

“You—” You stopped, your throat dry.

Billy leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “There are many kinds of hunger, and this is the most primal. The oldest. The most powerful.”

You shook your head. No. This was madness.

“But…” Alice hesitated, touching your face, forcing you to meet her eyes. “What worries me isn’t what they do with your energy. It’s how long you can last before it consumes you.”

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening. Every word they spoke made your mind spin, like it was trying to piece together a puzzle you never realized you were assembling.

“And…” You tried to speak, the words stuck in your throat, cutting like glass. “How do I get rid of it?” Your own voice came out unsteady, almost a painful whisper.

You couldn’t believe you were even asking, feeling the weight of the words on your tongue.

You felt like you were betraying them.

Billy and Yelena exchanged glances. Jennifer looked away, suddenly focused on spinning a ring on her finger. Alice, however, didn’t.

“That depends,” Billy finally said.

“On what?” Your impatience coiled tight in your throat.

“On how deep the connection is,” Alice murmured, still holding the small glass vial between her fingers. “If it’s just a superficial bond… it’s simple. Getting rid of it wouldn’t be difficult.”

You swallowed hard. Something in the way she said that made your skin prickle.

“But if it’s deeper…” Jennifer finally spoke, her voice low and measured. “If they’ve already rooted themselves in you… then there’s no easy way.”

“Rooted?” you whispered, the word foreign in your mouth.

Billy leaned in, pushing the vial toward you.

“If you want the truth, drink this before you sleep.” He held your gaze. “And pay attention to the sounds around you.”

The object felt ten times heavier in your palm. You stared at the dark liquid, a shiver running down your spine.

“What will happen if I drink it?”

Alice hesitated.

“You’ll notice things you normally wouldn’t,” she finally said. “And hear… what has always been there.”

Your heart pounded against your ribs. You wanted answers. You needed answers.

But were you ready to hear them?

The way home was a blur of lights and shadows. The cold wind bit at your skin, but it was nothing compared to the ice spreading in your chest, suffocating, cruel.

Your mommies. Your women. The only ones who ever loved you, the only ones who ever protected you.

And what if it was never real?

You felt each heartbeat like a sharp blade. Every memory—Agatha holding your face with firm, warm hands, Rio pulling you into a lazy hug on the couch—felt like poison now. You wanted to push them away. You wanted to rip them out of you, but they were buried too deep.

You almost laughed, a dry, humorless sound.

Rooted. Just like Jennifer said.

They were inside you. Feeding on you.

The glass vial burned against your skin in your pocket. Your hands trembled.

When you arrived home, everything felt even stranger. There was no usual comforting silence. No familiar scent of Agatha’s woodsy perfume or the expensive candles burning around the house.

There was something else.

A voice.

Familiar.

Rio.

Your stomach dropped. She wasn’t supposed to be here. Not this soon.

She was still supposed to be in Paris, preparing for the exhibition. You checked the time on your phone. Not even close to 9 PM. What was happening?

Well, did you miss me?

Walk on water just to kiss me

Oh, come and get me

Drag me out, destroy me

I've been expecting you, I'm ready

Deliver me that bad news baby

Your feet hesitated as you approached the living room, trying to make as little noise as possible. But it was pointless.

“My baby!” Her voice, warm and naturally mischievous, hit you. And it hurt so much. It hurt to imagine she was deceiving you.

Using you.

You forced a surprised smile, but you felt the burn behind your eyes, the frustration-laced tears that weren’t allowed to fall.

“Mama,” the word came out strangled from you. “What are you doing here?”

Rio gave you a lazy smile, the kind that always made you feel safe.

Your heart clenched with confusion. She stood up in one fluid movement, walking toward you as if there wasn’t an ocean of doubt and betrayal between you. Her strong arms wrapped around you in a warm, perfumed embrace.

The familiarity of her touch nearly made you crumble.

“Well, Mommy had an unexpected issue here, so of course, I had to come. I left Vision in charge. I didn’t really want to go anyway.”

You pulled back slightly to look at Agatha, who was sitting on the couch, a glass of wine in hand. She sighed, watching you with forced patience.

“An issue?” Your eyes narrowed slightly.

“Nothing you need to worry about, darling.”

The words should have been comforting. But you felt the weight of them, the unspoken truth behind them.

Am I your dream girl?

You think of me in bed

But you could never hold me

You like me better in your head

Make me evil, then I'm an angel instead

At least you'll sanctify me when I'm dead

You sat down beside Rio, feeling her warmth against you. She seemed relaxed, her fingers tracing idle patterns on the hem of your sweatshirt. Before, you would’ve adored this gesture. Now, it felt like a magician’s trick—something beautiful and deceiving, meant to distract you from what really mattered.

The wine on the table reflected the soft glow of the fireplace, the clink of ice against Agatha’s glass the only thing filling the momentary silence.

You had to act normal.

You had to deceive the deceivers.

They couldn’t know what you knew.

The knot in your throat doubled in size, but you swallowed it down along with your suspicion. You forced a small smile and stood up.

“I’m going to take a shower,” you said, making yourself sound casual.

Rio runs her fingers lightly along your arm, her lazy blue eyes meeting yours as she nods. Agatha merely tilts her head, watching you like a puzzle she’s trying to solve.

You step away, feeling your back burn under their gazes.

With every step toward the bathroom, your heart pounds harder.

You needed to get out. Needed to think. Needed to understand what was happening before they realized something inside you had already shifted.

Hot water cascaded down your skin, washing away the weight of the day—but not the weight of your thoughts.

You braced your hands against the damp tiles, inhaling deeply, trying to ignore the small bottle sitting on the sink. The dark glass seemed to pulse toward you, demanding a decision.

Should you drink it? Unravel the truth once and for all?

Dream girl evil, dream girl evil

Dream girl evil, dream girl evil

Your heartbeat thundered in your chest. If Alice and the others were right, drinking it would shatter the illusion. It would be like opening your eyes for the first time—but were you ready for that? Could you bear the truth that came with it?

You swallowed hard, fingers closing around the bottle. The dark liquid inside swirled like ink, thick and opaque. Slowly, you twisted the cap… but your hands trembled. The temptation to take a sip was there—but so was the fear.

What if this was a mistake? What if it was just another trick to pull you away from the only people who had ever truly mattered?

You exhaled sharply, snapping the lid shut and shoving the bottle into the bathroom cabinet.

Not now.

Stepping out of the shower, you wrapped yourself in a towel and glanced at your reflection in the foggy mirror. Your eyes looked different. You couldn’t tell if it was just exhaustion or something deeper—something already changing inside you.

Drying your hair quickly, you left the bathroom and stopped in the hallway. In the silence of the house, you found yourself standing between two doors.

Your room or theirs?

Your grip tightened on the towel, chest rising and falling with hesitant breaths. Your room meant safety, distance. But theirs…

You could almost smell Agatha’s familiar perfume, feel the warmth of Rio’s arms—the place where you had always felt safest. The weight of that longing made you waver for a moment.

Should you keep your distance?

Did I disappoint you?

Did mommy make you sad?

Do I just remind you

Of every girl that made you mad?

Make me perfect, make me your fantasy

You know I deserve it

Well, take it out on me

Or should you go to them, curl into the space that had always been yours, and pretend nothing had changed?

You pushed open their door and found everything... normal.

Too normal.

Am I your dream girl?

You think of me in bed

But you could never hold me

You like me better in your head

Make me evil, then I'm an angel instead

At least you'll sanctify me when I'm dead

Rio sat in the corner chair, the cold glow of the iPad illuminating her face as she scrolled through the screen, seemingly absorbed.

Agatha stood at the vanity, massaging floral-scented lotion into her arms with slow, meticulous movements. The sweet, woody aroma filled the room—a scent that once brought you comfort but now felt suffocating.

They looked up at the same time when you entered.

“Finally,” Rio murmured, eyes still on the screen. “You were taking your time, baby.”

“I think I relaxed a little too much,” you replied, aiming for casual as you walked toward the bed and sat down.

Agatha smiled at your reflection in the mirror, rubbing lotion along her neck. “Did you relax… or did you need some time alone, sweetheart?”

Your stomach twisted.

“How was Alice?” Rio asked, closing her iPad and crossing her legs.

You shrugged. “Fine.”

Silence.

Agatha turned to face you directly, one brow arched. “Fine?”

Rio smirked, the corner of her lips curling like she was enjoying this.

“You know,” Agatha continued, stepping slowly toward the bed. “Calderu mentioned she’s quite the troublemaker.”

You forced a neutral expression. “Is that so?”

“It is,” Rio answered before Agatha could. She leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees. “Great ideas, but sometimes too much creativity… affects her in ways it shouldn’t.”

Agatha sat at the edge of the bed beside you, her perfume weaving around you like a web.

“She might start seeing ghosts, for example.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

You forced a laugh. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Rio stood, walking toward you at an unhurried pace. “It means some people are easily influenced. They pick up bad ideas. Start believing things they shouldn’t.”

Agatha’s eyes gleamed with something unreadable. “Oh. And I bet she’s filled that silly little head of yours with the most filthy nonsense.”

Dream girl evil, dream girl evil

Dream girl evil, dream girl evil

It happened too fast.

The grip.

Her fingers found your throat—firm, demanding.

You gasped, not from the force of it, but from the shock.

“And I think we deserve to know the truth, don’t we, sweetheart?” Agatha murmured, leaning in close until your faces were nearly touching.

Watch me shimmer (shimmer)

A projection of your mother (mother)

But don't come crying (crying)

I am nobody's moral center

Rio moved behind you, her hands sliding over your shoulders—cold, chilling.

“Let’s have a real conversation, baby…” Rio whispered against your ear, her warm breath drawing a shaky sigh from you. “Just the three of us.”

Agatha’s fingers tightened around your neck, the floral-scented lotion making the grip feel almost intimate, at odds with its brutality.

It cannot hold, it cannot hold

It cannot hold, it cannot hold

The room—your safier sanctuary—was now a cage.

And you… you were trapped inside it.

~*~

Another cliffhanger chapter cuz I know my babies love that.

Tell me about your theories!!

Mommies always know.

Tag List <3

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh @indentity0018 @beggingonmykneesforher @reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good @imjustvibingsworld @mbxoxo @jazzyxqzl @eternallyconfuzed @ctrlaltedits @sheriffhaughtearp @lesbiansweet @i-luv-w1men @htinha157 @syssmin @wandasslut3000 @fuzzygiantlamphorse @imaginaryblogger01 @aboutcustardcreams @upsidedowndanvers @starbucks-06 @absolute-memegarbage @trinity2k @greyella @angel-kitten-babygirl-u-choose @whitelotus00 @dandelions4us @creaturesaphique @warpdrive-witch @sweetmidnights

[evilwetbread]

so i've got a LOT of thoughts about ENA: Dream BBQ, and I mean a lot. Most of them right now pertain to ENA and her two sides, cause I've noticed a lot of interesting things about them. :) wordwall incoming

SPOILERS FOR DREAM BBQ OF COURSE!!!

Starting with Salesperson, I thought it was an intriguing detail how a lot of the characters she interacts with comment on her weird way of saying things. A lot of these comments suggest that ENA is just spouting word salad with no real meaning, some even going as far as to suggest that ENA can’t actually comprehend her own objectives. Salesperson (imo) DOES seem to have a lack of true direction, and an inability to fully comprehend reality- she has a vague way of describing her objectives, frequently uses idioms that make zero sense, and has a general lack of visible emotion beyond advertising and polite/transactional small talk. She takes jobs and missions without questioning their merit. It’s like she has never experienced the world any other way. Meanie, on the other hand, seems to be the opposite. While she really does live up to her name, a lot of her anger seems to root from genuine stress. She’s far more aware.

There were several points in the game where she looked to me like she was at the very end of her rope- and a lot of the moments where things got weird or unnerving seemed to involve her (the weird cuts/flashbacks?? to the Bullet Rain from the trailer during her interaction with that shop machine, the whole post-death segment where we play as a hungover human version of ena who seems to be meanie-dominant, and i mean I can't go w/o mentioning the whole Purge Event). She says things so bluntly not because she's a "meanie" archetype, but because she is genuinely frustrated with both her own job, and how this world seems to mock her constantly. She acts, and reacts, far more lucidly than her counterpart. (Not entirely lucid of course, but she hates all the bullshitting that the entities around her tend to do and tolerates it far less) My assumption about this version of ENA and her two parts before the game released was always that they would function a lot like the original ENA did, with two over exaggerated emotions constantly butting heads. But this dynamic really took me by surprise!! It's like Meanie is ENA's raw thoughts and feelings, and Salesperson is this filtering agent that jumbles things up and mellows her out. Salesperson reminds me a lot of how our own brains process things in dreams most of the time, where we accept utterly ridiculous things as par-for-the-course(we did see a lot of this with Happy ENA in s1 too) and I think there's a LOT more to ENA than meets the eye in that regard. There's a lot more emphasis on Meanie’s feelings and emotional instability than there ever is on Salesperson's. She knows more than she lets on.

It's also really interesting to me that no one ever takes mercy or pity on her- even allegedly all-powerful entities like Theodora(the Lonely Door's Genie) treat her like she's the bottom of the barrel. Is being ENA just a curse? An entity made to labor perpetually, and bear the burden of other people’s mistakes, unable to permanently die and unable to actually succeed without sacrificing herself over and over in the process? Are the two emotional states a buffer to prevent her from truly understanding the reality of her situation???

I have a lot of questions, and something tells me that once the full story is concluded, very few of them will be answered lol. Wouldn’t have it any other way though. This game was worth the wait

[iluvloganhowlett]

I HATE YOU .𖥔 ݁ ˖

in which logan leaves for a mission unexpectedly for almost a year and still expects to be welcomed home upon return

warnings: angst, no happy ending (oops!), a little violence, mutant!reader, that’s it fr

reader has same powers as logan bc they were both experiments at the same time

i also switched up the timeline slightly so pretend logan isn’t a grumpy old man and is more so how he was in x-men (2000)

i also saw some other story that was kinda like this one but i couldn’t remember who’s it was so if anyb knows drop it so i can credit

part 2

“why are we here again?” wade questioned, stuffing a handful of cheetos he stole from a vending machine a while back.

logan only glared at him, “because. i left her for 9 months, the least i can do is come home and show her that im alive.”

wade shrugs, “who even is this ‘she?’ is she hot?”

in seconds, wade finds himself pinned against the wall of the hallway, logan’s claws only centimeters from his neck. “she’s my girl, you don’t get to talk about her being hot,” logan growls, retracting his claws and releasing wade.

“well damn wolvie! don’t get your panties in a bunch, im not stealing your girl! unless the charm is just too much for her then-“

“do you ever stop fucking talking outta your ass?”

wade only sighed, halting to a stop as logan did the same. “137,” logan muttered, looking up at the 137 sitting next to your door.

as logan rose his hand to knock, the door was swung open. logan’s eyes widened. he thought he’d gotten himself back into the right headspace to see you again, clearly he’d been mistaken.

the way your low-set brows rose up at the corners in anger, your long lashes drawing his eyes straight to your deep brown ones. your plush lips curled in slightly and your hair flowed down your back smoother than water.

wade whistled, “hey hot stuff-“ before he was cut of with a punch to the nose, dragging him down to the floor.

logan still had yet to say anything, admiring all the parts of you he’d missed.

however he was cut off with a groan, looking down at your claws that had made their way through his abdomen and back out, retracing back into your forearms.

“what the hell are you doing back here? and who’s the red sex-toy lookin’ thing that i j punched?”

as much as logan wanted to laugh at your dig at wade, he knew how to read the room. and frankly, he was still to stunned. “y/n? baby?”

“don’t call me that,” logan’s eyes widened, “you don’t get to call me that after disappearing for 9 months without notice, lo!”

logan couldn’t help but admire your use of his nickname you created even though you’re pissed at him.

“listen. i know, okay? i know and im sorry but if you let me in,” logan stepped closer, “i can expl- ah fuck!”

you’d stabbed him again in the same spot, pushing his body against the hall with your claws. “no you listen to me, logan. and you listen to me good. i’m not letting you come into my- our house after going awol for fucking forever and coming back with some random gay in a red suit,” you pulled your claws out of him but didn’t put them away this time.

your face softens, eyes moving rapidly between logan’s. he knew you better than anyone, he could see the way your eyes shifted from angry to vulnerable and the way your eyebrows lifted; you were a mini him, despite you being the same age.

“i thought you died, lo. i spent the past months thinking the only person i had and loved was fucking dead,” your eyes welled up as you backed away from logan, putting your claws away alas.

“i’m sorry, doll. im so sorry you have no idea,” logan’s calloused hands grazed your forearms, thumbs tracing the spot where your claws rested.

you sighed, holding back the urge to give in and hold onto him as long as you could.

“but you dont understand-“ you looked away, only for logan to lift a hand and cup your face in it, forcing your glossy eyes to meet his.

“you’re right, james! i don’t understand! so jesus fucking christ enlighten me.”

logan was taken back at your use of his real name, lip parting slightly. his heart ached more and more every time he watched your bottom lip quiver. he knew you were trying to keep up your strong facade, but were beginning to fail.

“i had a mission to go on. i had to save the world, baby!” your brows curled back into anger, and logan knew you thought he was bullshitting. “cmon, angel, stay with me. the asshat over there in the red, he dragged me into this. so if you’re gonna kill anyone for this, have it be him. i just- i need you to let me in.��

you shook your head. “lo- just-“ you stuttered, scavenging for words. “but why didn’t you say anything? you couldn’t have called? sent a letter? hell, baby i would’ve been happy with a fucking pigeon!”

“i didn’t have access to that shit.”

“for 9 months?”

he took a deep sigh, “yes, for nine months.” his tone grew louder. “because if i hadn’t left you for those 9 months there would be no more you for me to come back home to!”

“get out of my damn building, logan.”

“what?”

“leave! i want you and that goddamn red thing to get as far away from me as you fucking can and stay there.”

“y/n-“

“bye logan!”

you slammed the door in his face, leaving him standing there in utter disbelief.

logan’s claws retracted, “FUCK!” he screamed through the hall, leaving a giant claw park across your door.

he looked down at wade, who was watching from a safe distance on the floor. he put his claws away, grabbing wade by the fabric of his suit and dragging him onto his feet.

“get up, you heard the girl; let’s get the fuck away from her.”

logan was breathing heavy, more than ever before. it was like his heart couldn’t catch up to everything he was feeling in the moment. the last thing he wanted to be doing right now was walking out of your apartment building and leaving you, but he was weighed down by so much anger and hurt that he wasn’t exactly in control of himself at the moment.

“well,” wade started, “you handled that well.”

and before he knew it, wade was stabbed into a wall. “ow?”

logan growled, “i’m coming back for her.”

wade only let out a long laugh, stopping logan in his tracks.

“what the fuck are you laughing at? you should’ve heard the joke she made about you! she said you look like a sex toy-“

“i’m not laughing at that, you ape. i’m laughing at the fact that you’re coming back to her! look how it turned out the last time you ‘came back.’ “

“you don’t know what you’re talking about, kid. i’m coming back, whether she likes it or not. i’m not losing the love of my life after all i did to make sure i wouldn’t lose her.”

“i-“ “and next time im here, you won’t be.”

so! should i make a part 2 WITH a happy ending when he does come back??? 🫣🫣

♯ taglist! ∿

@spazwayy @oatmilkriver @sseleniaa @mei-simp @wittyjasontodd @wolverinesangel @realsimpbitchshit @pickuptruck01 @keigohawks @thereallchristine @velvrei

[elia-liendy]

Late night talk at the 24h self service

X x GN!Coworker reader

Genre: Fluff(?), Comfort, One-shot (2nd person pov)

Summary: X was walking to a 24h self service, but you're fighting with a vending machine of the self service zone, as X was about to leave you alone, you end up to notice his presence and since he could no longer leave, X engages on a talk to cheer you up.

Man, idk you can take it romantic or platonic, it's up to you. I personally take it as romantic since it's a self indulgent yume fic.🥀🥀🥀

Cw: swearing

Count: 3.7k

One hand on his pocket and the other playing with a coin in his fingers, X is walking mindlessly to the nearest self service to enjoy his favourite can of soda, sweet and sugary, that's how he loves it and that what he always drank. Just by thinking to drink it, it makes him hum eager to feel the carbonate taste on his tongue, transforming the simple desire into a need. A need to treat himself nicely after after working his 9/5 and hit big on today stream, even if he had to end it forcefully, thanks to the bothersome law enforcement that he had to deal after fighting and arresting a gang on live.

He for sure deserves a small break while sipping his favourite drink plus, it won't hurt anyone, especially not when it sound like paradise to X himself.

Hums to himself happily, thinking whenever he should continue the stream after his drink or end it here for today.

He takes the last turn to reach the awaited self service zone, but his flow of troughs stops all together whit also his walk and coin play thanks to some sudden metal noise coming from the self service zone.

He opens his eyes and he sees you, still wearing your office clothes, but untidy and your hair are frizzy. You look entirely agitated, exhausted and tired, whit a look he understood that probably it was given to you more work to do, making you walk out of office this late in the night.

You aggressively shake the vending machine, it does practically nothing but making a loud noise. Since nothing is working you decide to release your frustration to the machine,you begin to slap and kick the machine.

"Give my money back!!"

You groan frustrated, you're aware that complaining will do nothing, but you still do it to let out all your pent up energy you have gained all day from being still in the office chair even after the hours of your contract, thanks to your supervisor giving you more work than you can handle... Once again.

X stand there watching you bullying the vending machine whit such unexpected behaviour from his dear junior co-worker, and he can't help but find it rather "entertaining" seeing this new side of you.

He already finds you interesting and pleasant to be whit you on the daily 9/5 by both your little admiration for him and finding ways to always engage on a casual talk, he your chair neighbour, despite you using the same two cards: asking to eat together during lunch break or asking help to any kind of doubt you have; he find that time enjoyable, making his 9/5 all more lively.

You wear your heart on your sleeve and he find you very easy to get along and his ego always gets a boost whenever you look up at him for help and advice. You're also never prone to be anger and always try to be diplomatic... and finding you whit the how you are now: ruined formal clothes, wild hair and the exasperated behaviour; it's so opposite to your demure self, he can't help it but find it intriguing, despite feeling bad at finding curiosity in your not so happy situation.

"My money, hahahaha...."

You laugh bitterly while hitting repeatedly your head on the vending machine and when you stop, you go drag your hand slowly down to the glass, making a screeching sound that penetrates the ears of both of you.

You mumble to yourself, slowly falling into the ground whit hands your hair and a hopeless expression.

X despite finding this intriguing, seeing you like this, he knew better to leave you alone in this fragile and private moment, hoping to keep this moment for yourself only. But before he could anything, even snap his finger and teleport away, you turned around looking at him, your expression is molded to a glaring frown.

The both of you freezed for different reasons: You're completely frozen by the sight of the number one hero, X himself, looking at you. A you that is pathetically sitting in front of a vending machine whit messy clothes and hair, you feel the shame reaching to your face painting it red.

"...."

You continue to stand there quietly still looking shocked before bitterly laughing by the absurdity of such situation.

As for X, he found himself surprised by your sense, and he was frozen not knowing what to do, but hearing you laugh als made him laugh too, joining whit you... Even if you're laughing for different reason.

You use the vending machine to stand up, yet you still move wobbly, you're not considering fixing your presence in front of the number one hero, you're too tired to even find an ounce of self composure.

"the vending machine is broken. I suggest you go to another."

Your voice screeches thanks to the dry and strained vocal cords, you turn to give one last glare the vending machine while stepping away whit a pissed expression that got stamped on your face since you got out of work.

"Really? Are you sure of that?"

X begins to re-play whit the coin as he walks towards the vending machine confident of himself and that pissed you more than you're already are. Of course you're sure of that, you're fought whit this vending machine for 20 minutes.

"Oh~my, of course monsieur X, I am quite delighted to inform you that thay machine, that sells thay eatables goods is malfunctioning in upsetting ways."

You bow at him whit heavy sarcasm and false teatrism while gifting him a deadly glare. He chuckles enjoying your sarcasm that came whit this new side of yours, maybe bit too much, a side that he hardly believes that he would meet as your co-worker.

"Well you will never know till you try yourself."

X glance at you with, on your opinion, an annoying smile that's always stamped on his stupid face. His hands continue to play with coin while slowly inserting it in the coin slot and then pressing the first number.

"...."

You cross your arms, biting your lips and hold yourself back to curse at him, but containing yourself isn't helping, it's only irritating you even more. To release your frustration you decided to began tap your feet repeatedly, but the noise increased your irritation and the fact someone is near you seeing like this, is upsetting you even more.

"Whatever. I bet you're loooaaaded with of money Mister Number One. To you, one little coin means nothing."

He looks at you, aware of your unawareness about the fact you couldn't be more wrong and that makes him smile even more.

He works the same 9/5 as you, well it's true he have a bigger salary than you, by just the simple fact you just got hired three months ago. Plus he gets extra money from X streams, but he ever hardly uses them, it would be highly suspicious if he used them mindlessly as the single minded office worker he is supposed to be. So he gives most of those money in donations to little and trustworthy organisations.

You look at him and he looks at you, silence is expanding, he's smiling at you but he isn't responding.

He just stand there and you glare at him, disliking his non-reaction reaction, the silence is cutting and you dislike silence, you always feel on edge when there is silence piercing your ear; that is also why you always work whit music whit one earpod.

Tension begins to grow in your mind, slowly becoming unbearable for your already overwhelmed self, the irritation also continues to grow and it's consuming your lucidity and you hate it, your feet tapping gets faster and you begin to scratch your arms aggressively while still keeping them crossed.

You dislike being angry on itself and you defenely hate seen by others like thins whit the possibility to lash out, even passively, to the next person; even if said next person is smiling like he is enjoying your irritation whit that smug smile and keen stare...

And... He is, in fact, enjoying it. He is enjoying everything in this conversation, he is making sure to register every little reaction of yours and can you blame him? This new side is all even more interesting to him.

Whit X, you don't hold admiration and the interaction feels all more true and raw, which considering it's quite paradoxical: he is now appearing as X the number one hero, loved and trusted by the people, someone considered invincible and powerful by his followers and yet you treat such special individual like a normal person, while the admiration is reserved for your co-worker, the real him.

Is it because X first meeting happened whit you already being upset? Or is it because you don't care about X opinion of you? Either way he can hardly keep himself to smile even more in front of you, even if he doesn't want to upset you even more, truthfully said he want to calm you down, you look terrible both physically and mentally and you're also hurting yourself by scratching too hard on your arm, it's that he find this side of you unknown and he want to explore it.

You cannot take it anymore, how long this uncomfortable and long silence will continue? your fear thinks it won't stop stretching till you won't do something, because he, for sure, is doing nothing but smiling like a statue.

You look at him uncomfortable while you take a step back, hoping that such reaction will bring him to speak, look away or anything to break this unbearable silence, but it doesn't... he stand there still smiling.

You look at him bewildered and unsettled, what is happening? Did he froze? You think as you decide to try walk closer to him, even if you're high key intimidated of him right now, but you need to do something for your anxious heart.

Walking away is too rude; you consider speaking to him, but your voice was already screeching before and you can only imagine the shame you would feel when your voice breaks the silence whit a screech followed by a cough... You're cringing by just imagining it.

So the only reasonable and appropriate thing to do is tap his shoulders and see if he moves or something.... Seriously is this how the most trusted hero act? You hardly believe yourself on what you're seeing.

You take the first step and you look at him, hoping some reaction from him, but nothing he still stand there frozen, so you take another step and see if he reacts but he still does nothing, so every time he doesn't react you take a step closer.

Look and step,

Look and step,

Look and step till you were right in front of him, looking at him whit a frown

You trough he was spacing out, like you usually do, but no... that bastard, was looking at you and he even had the audacity to move down his head to still look at your face correctly as he continues to smile, how annoying and extremely humiliating. You want to say something, to get mad at him or to make fun of him, but your sense of shame is stopping you in doing so, you feel your blood rushing trough your face and your muscles remaining still yet tense.

X didn't do nothing because he was considering his actions and the possible outcome of them, like the chess nerd he is. But then seeing you slowly walk to him like a scared puppy, he decided to see what you were trying to do, yet seeing you freeze in your shame after you just came in front of his face, or better his chest, he decided it was the moment for him to ease your one sided tension.

He takes a moment to think before looking at the vending machine and to change into a different topic: he decided to see if it was truly broken, he pressed the last digit to select the soda he wanted to buy so much before meeting you... And to the surprise of both of you, the vending machine began to move as the sound of it's engine broke the silence.

X laughed satisfied by this outcome and goes to check your reaction: you're looking at the vending machine whit wide eyes and mouth with frowning eyebrow, hardly believing on what you're seeing, you stood in front of this stuck vending machine for 20 minutes. You were fighting whit it for 20 minutes. but it did nothing.

Your expression shift to one of anger and X began to laugh, upsetting you even more as you give him a middle finger, you don't like how also fate joined in to make fun of you whit X.

"Fuck you."

you avoid looking the vending machine and especially X whit his irritating smile, but also what irritated you even more, is the fact he got the same thing you failed to buy.

You don't know if it's a casual coincidence or if he knew and did it out of spite.

"I didn't do nothing."

After to reaching the can of soda he goes to rest his eyes on you once again and he easily saw that you wanted the soda since you were intensely staring at it, so he decided to give it to you.

He moved his hand and resting the can in front of your face seeing if you would take it. You look at him confused and irritated as you frown even more, not getting his hint, he could easily read that you look his actions as a mockery.

"You can take it."

He sigh, but despite his shown reaction he does appreciate the fact you're easy to read, it's rather endearing.

He pushes the end of the can into your forehead just to tease you a little, the cold aluminium of the can makes you shiver as you look at him surprised before stepping back flustered, you touch your forehead as you look the can of soda that he hold and lightly shakes in frot of your eyes, you take a moment to look at him before using the same hand that was in your forehead to get the can.

"Thank you..."

You said quietly, not expecting such little act of kindness from him, you hold the can whit both of your hands while looking at him, for once you don't find his smile irritating, but rather comforting and nice to gaze at.

But despite that you feel a sense of uneasiness and discomfort, you feel like you owe him something for the drink, unaware that your face is showing what you're feeling right now, it made X sigh, being this easy to read isn't good for you, even if it's a traits that he likes about you. He worries about the possibility of his dear co-worker being easily exploited by those whit ulterior intension.

"You don't owe me nothing, and especially you don't owe me an explanation."

You jump surprised and confused, yet still comforted by him once again, you feel a certain weight lifting you off from your shoulder.

You unconsciously smile as you eyes fall to the can, your appreciation is shown once again in your face and the way you gently hold the soda... that feel like a reward for him, seeing his dear co-worker mood finally lifting up, your smiles are warm like ray of sun he now rarely enjoys since he became a hero.

"Do you like this can of soda?"

You ask at X while you open the can, the sound of a opening can it's always something your ears appreciate, the aluminium opening and the frizziness of the soda gets louder as it interacts whit the oxygen.

"I never tried personally..."

You continue to act like you didn't ask the question, even if you did notice that X didn't answered, yet you didn't mind, you're aware that every little detail could be crucial for a hero secret identity. But that what's your mind think, in reality X was just thinking that he wish he had enough coins whit him to buy another can of soda, but he sadly ran out of coin, still he doesn't regret giving it to you, your genuine expression of appreciation are always priceless to him, that another added reason why he likes when you ask for his help.

"...I always seen my co worker drink it... So I got curious on how it tasted... But I always felt ashamed to ask him."

You explain flustered realising only after you finished speaking that you still end up over explaining yourself, you sigh and laugh to ease your nerves.

X stands there silent, aware on how much shy and hesitant you're whit him as your co-worker, he wonders if it's the admiration? Or your social anxiety? Maybe it's both? But for sure he wants to use this opportunity to know more what you think about him or to know you better.

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you asked him."

And since you're talking about him in front of him, he feels like that he at least owes you some moral support, the little guilt slowly dissapear as this conversation is getting too interesting for him as he doesn't want to let go of such rare and ironic opportunity.

"I think so too... It's, just... I don't know, probably my fears are covering my ears and eyes."

You're self aware of your anxiety, but you don't know how to act upon it.

You look the soda unsure if you truly want to drink it, you slowly put the can under your nose to examine the smell of the soda, unsure if you will even like it after all you're not a fan of carbonate drinks.

X knows the smell from memory, strawberry but added frizz that makes the nose itches, such smell makes him smile, yet your face frowns in disgust making you even more reluctant to drink it now.

"You know how it taste like?"

You ask X, scared even to try it. You already feel nauseous from the smell, you don't want to puke in front of him, especially out of cordiality and respect, since he is the one that gifted the can to you.

"It's a carbonate sweet soda that give an aftertaste of strawberry."

Hearing that, you decided to give back to him, holding back the gag reflex still out of respect for the nice gesture.

"It's all yours...thank you for the gesture, I really appreciate it, but I think I will for sure not like this drink."

X takes the soda watching you step back feeling nauseous by just imagining the taste.

It surprises him, he trough by the way you look and act, you would be another fan of sweets and strawberry like him,but it seem he misjudged you... Well better for him, he still uplifted your mood and still got the privilege to finally sip his awaited sugary and carbonate taste.

As he begin to chug down the soda, he can hear you taking deep breaths to forget about the smell you obviously disliked and he thinks, but his mind there is a question that is tormenting him to let it out....

"Are you scared of him?"

He says aware that his curiosity is getting the better end of him, but it's not like he is even fighting against it.

You turn around a bit surprised by his question, not expecting to be curious about such unimportant thing for the number one hero.

"..."

You take a moment as you look at X and then look to the ground as your back goes to rest on a close wall, before deciding to awnser, it's not like X gains anything from talk, you think, but only if you knew the truth you would be fuming.

"I'm not scared of him, I'm scared of shame."

You look at the sky hopeless, X looks at you, the both of you deep in the trough, making the silent full of meaning between the two of you.

"Do you think he is the type to judge?"

He ask, unsure of your awnser despite the talk it's about himself, yet when you look at him and simply move your head to signal a no whit a little smile, his heart slowed down in reassurance, happy whit your awnser.

"You shouldn't cage yourself in fear. Those fears will become reality if you let them be."

X walks up to you and flick your forehead whit a smile of reassurance, finishing his soda and perfectly throwing it in trash behind him whitout even looking.

You leans away while you touch your forehead, feeling the little sting in your forehead as you look at him between a glare of anger and a confused stare.

"Well whatever, it's not like it's the end of the world if it becomes the truth. I always been alone, and be rejected another time means nothing to me."

You slap his hands away as you couldn't stand being there anymore, you already knew that much, you didn't need anyone to tell you that especially you didn't need the hero X to tell you that.

You're tired both from this talk and the previous overload of work you had today. You just want ot take a long shower and sleep, now, because if you don't go to bed soon, tomorrow your mood will be even worse than it is now form the lack of sleep.

X watches you leave the self service zone, he is aware that you're just trying to just convince yourself that you're fine whit the fear of rejection, but he wants to change that.

He smiles, he has taken it as a challenge to prove you wrong, that you're scared of rejection and to no longer be scared him as your co worker.

You disappear he turns around to walk on his apparent, he began to flip and play with a coin he secretly stole from you while you weren't looking, his mind was already thinking how to break your walls of fear and insecurity around him and to be closer to you and your heart.

_____________________________

After notes: man I posted the draft while I thought it got deleted. That's embarrassing 🧑‍🦯🧑‍🦯🧑‍🦯

[dumbgoondog]

On Display(Part 3)

MDNI +18 NSFW

Fem Reader, them getting to see your cunt for the first time. These are short quick reads.

Ft. Todo, Mechamaru(+Kokichi Muta), Megumi, and Yuji

Cw/Tw - horny men, nothin this time

AOI TODO

His warm hands are calloused but the way they run along your thighs and gently squeeze makes them feel so soft like the rest of your lovely man. Todo has kissed almost every inch of you, with a religious fervor that could be likened to the gods giving him a miracle, and Aoi Todo is no religious man but you make him one. The way he’s kneeling before you, holding your thighs and hips lovelingly kissing your thigh, your heart was going to leap from your chest.

“You make me wanna pray,” he murmurs his looking up past his brows to you, and you flush looking away. His kisses start trailing closer to your exposed sex, and he stops right before to shiver with little laugh, “Heh, I’m a bit nervous too, don’t worry, let’s do this together.” And he takes your hand to put on his head to have you guide him to kiss your folds.

MECHAMARU

You thought the poppet was turned off, this was when he normally napped but the stutter and crackle of the Mic said different. Your boyfriend often left his poppet in your room to not be disturbed and for quiet, so you didn’t think much when you started undressing. Now you’re both frozen you wide eyed like a deer in headlights having bent over to take off your pants.

“I’m so sorry- I thought you were-“ you stutter finally breaking from your spell, and scramble to try and cover yourself. The poppet sits there slack jawed for a moment before he begins to stammer as well, “No no no- you look wonderful! I love how you- I’m sorry! Ack-“ you hear a choke of pain from the mic and you both laugh at the awkwardness.

KOKICHI MUTA

His chest is rising and falling rapidly, you’re so worried he’s going to faint or his skin will split, or something! But every time you start to shift to move to hide he’s trying to move to get to you, causing himself pain. You flush looking away, “Kokichi- if it’s too much we don’t have too. Please don’t strain yourself.”

“No, no no. I’m just… I’m in awe. How could I be so lucky?” Kokichi gasps worried he’s made you feel undesirable. You shift nervously in the chair, it’s a bit cold, but you watch him lean as far forward as he can, “please, my love, would you… would you spread her for me? I want to see all of you.”

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

The breath that leaves is like steam escaping machine releasing stress, almost a whistle even, and Megumi seems so prideful. You’re pinned under him, hands above your head, a dry humping session getting even more heated as he’s pulling your underwear off. Those sharp teeth accent a smug smile, as he’s eating up your sight like a wolf with a bone, savoring every bit.

“Damn, she’s a mess, knew she was eager but damn baby, if I didn’t know any better she wants a baby~” he’s teasing you know it but your face burns and you want to look away but clicks his tongue at you like he’s obedience training you. A hand moves from your wrists to palm at your wet cunt and he chuckles deep and low, leaning down and nipping at your chest, “aww, she tryna pull my hand in. You want that baby? You want my fingers in your pretty cunt?”

YUJI ITADORI

“No, please, I don’t need cuffffsss,” Yuji wines and pulls against the leather cuffs with a klink of their chains, but there’s a much more forceful pull and his eyes dilate like when he’s hunting curses. Why? You’re pulling off your clothes and underwear, and you can hear his heavy breathing already starting to pick up and the strain on the cuffs becoming more active, “Hey, sweetheart… I’ll be good, let’s just get these off yeah? I’ll be gentle! Promise.”

Your heart is pounding, you know how much of an animal he can become, he’s almost feral, it’s like all of the anger he’s been pushing down comes out in this primal way. All of it wanting you, the way he’s mounted you and humped you over your clothes growling, and he even broke the bed board from gripping it too hard. You know those cuffs won’t last, but you need to prep yourself, so lube in hand and fingers starting to finger yourself in a beautiful show, Yuji snarls, “haaahh- teasing me? Please lemme- fuck this.” CRK-!

[revelboo]

just popping in that AAAAAAAA

Aaaaah! Mine’s still overseas, but look at him!

Clumsy Heart Pt 5

Soundwave x Reader, Shockwave x Reader

• Venting tiredly as he lifts you out of Shockwave’s trembling hand, then pins that hand down with his free hand when Shockwave tries to reach for you again. Your pain and fear are almost a physical assault on him, twining with the chaos he’s picking up from Shockwave and his own grief, it’s nearly crippling. Strips him down to his spark, laying him bare. Terrified eyes. Shockwave’s confusion. His own loss. Gently cradling you to his chassis, he feels when Shockwave leans slightly, bumping his shoulder. “Stop. Silent. Calm,” Soundwave growls to you, Shockwave, and himself. “Safe.” Because he’s drowning.

• Eyes watering as you gingerly touch your shoulder and nearly cry out, fingers tingling, that low voice sinks into you. You’re almost certain the creepy one dislocated your shoulder when he’d grabbed you. Except. He’d been trying to save you from the fall, hadn’t he? Glancing at him, you find him barely moving, rocking, antenna back. Hadn’t been trying to hurt you. Though, he is the one that kidnapped you and dragged you to nightmare, giant robot world in the first place and you want to hate him. But watching him, there’s something almost broken in the way the servos of his one hand flex, his optic dimming. Something that almost makes you pity him.

• Angry at you, at himself. Everything. That’s all he has left. Logical, carefully plotted courses of action and crippling anger. Watching you touch your shoulder and cringe away, his head tips. Realizing he’d broken you trying to save you. And Soundwave is pinning his hand flat as the communications officer shudders slightly, venting roughly. It’s Soundwave’s hand on his wrist, keeping it flat on the desk. Knows Soundwave. But the face that floats up in his memories isn’t Soundwave, it’s a smiling stranger and something that can’t possibly be fear shivers through him.

• Times like these, it hurts to remember who Shockwave had been. To remember and see what’s left after the Senate’s machinations. Every bit as intelligent and innovative as he’d been before, but without compassion or mercy to curb his drive or his obsessions. “Let me see,” Soundwave murmurs, carefully releasing Shockwave and waiting to make sure he’s not going to grab for you. Turning his attention to you when Shockwave’s only reaction is to flick his antenna slightly. “I know,” he croons at you, watching your eyelids droop slightly. Responding to the low hum like a cassette. Relaxing as that tone strips away the fear to leave you complacent.

• “Don’t,” Shockwave growls, rocking back some. Saying what you want to say but can’t and that lulling sound falters. Because as lovely as the way it feels when it spills into you and seems to whisper that all is well feels, it’s a lie. A trap. Looking up at that one red optic, you shiver and touch your shoulder again. “I’ll retrieve the scanner.” Turning away, Shockwave moves with more certainty than you’ve seen so far. With purpose. And he’d stopped the other one from doing whatever he was doing. Hypnotizing you? Wanting to ask to go home, but as Soundwave runs a servo over your jaw, the words fail you to leave only exhaustion.

Previous

Next

[feroluce]

HOW DID RAPPA AND BOOTHILL END UP BEING SO SWEET???

Before 2.6 even dropped, they were being cute! In Rappa's Keeping Up With Star Rail, Boothill describes Rappa's creations as "high-tech ninjutsu" rather than equipment, or machines, or anything else that someone would have normally defaulted to. This is something Rappa is very proud of and insistent about in her work, and he respects that!

Even with those party join lines, he refers to her not as a Galaxy Ranger, but by her chosen title!

Rappa seems to get a lot of shit for how she talks, too, with people throughout the patch accusing her of playing around or not taking anything seriously. Boothill though is swift to correct that, that even if it sounds like nonsense, Rappa is someone to be respected and a force to be reckoned with. He seems to really admire her resolve, and especially her intellect! He has nothing but praise for her, it's so so sweet.

And the way she talks about him, too! Like there are. A lot of things you can say about a man like Boothill fjkdlsajk but she always speaks so admirably of him?

There's also the difference in nicknames- Rappa refers to every other person as "Ninja." And most of them are descriptions that you can pick up at a glance, or without knowing a person too deeply. Singer for Robin is obvious, everyone knows who she is. Gama for Reca means "toad," which is a reference to the assistant director he always has with him. Baseball Bat for the trailblazer is also obvious. Ruri for March 7th means "lapis lazuli" which is probably a reference to her Six Phase Ice, or even her appearance since she looks like if a Stellar Jade became human. Hiryu for Dan Heng is actually "flying dragon" but it's also a famous video game reference so I'm only willing to put so much stock into that one fjkdsjakd and besides, she could have easily heard about March 7th and Dan Heng from Boothill, since he talks about the dango trio to Rappa, too.

But Boothill! Rappa refers to Boothill as "Silvergun Shura," with Shura being a reference to Asura, a demigod of war. It's a name used to describe someone fighting a relentless, inhumane war and desperately seeking victory. It also refers to a level of hell, governed by anger and pain. Both interpretations suit him strongly. It's not really a title you could give just looking at someone. It's something you'd have to know them at least a little more deeply for.

Boothill also very distinctly lacks the common ninja title- instead, in the EN translation, Rappa calls him Lord. It's a highly respectable title even in the original Chinese, apparently akin to addressing reigning royalty.

She just. Seems to respect and admire him so much? It's so so sweet?

And despite how often it's stated that Galaxy Rangers tend to work and travel alone, it seems these two are at least fairly familiar with each other, which makes me really happy! In an instance of beautiful timing, just today Hoyo released a new text convo, and! When she wants someone to hang out with, Boothill was one of the first people Rappa thought of!

Rappa knew Dan Heng because Boothill talked about him. She knew about Clockwork. Boothill has spoken with her often enough and long enough to know how deeply her hatred ran, and to be upset for her when Primon got away.

They both speak so positively of each other, even when one is out of of earshot. They openly show a ton of respect and admiration for one another, and the way they talk about each other is more than just two people who happen to be part of the same faction. They know each other more closely than that. Boothill is only in Penacony at all because of Rappa, and Rappa trusted Boothill enough to seek him out for this.

My favorite, though? The part I considered the cutest?

Rappa literally went all the way to the Luofu just to watch Boothill fight in the Luminary Wardance.

[orbvan]

Anger Release Machine - Katja Kublitz (2008)