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badwritinghabit · 9 months

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Chef's Kiss | Carmy x fem!OC x Luca | Chapter 8

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Warnings: language, yelling, cheesiness.

Word Count: 4,614

Summary: Luca surprises Sophie with a phone call. Sophie and Carmy fight. Luca comforts Sophie after a rough night-- twice.

Sophie was already itching to text Luca as she returned home from their afternoon out. She had googled ‘things to see in Copenhagen’ a few minutes into her train ride, excited at the prospect of visiting him. It was rare she had such an instant connection with someone. She didn’t want to lose it.

But she knew she shouldn’t get her hopes up about being able to keep in contact. He lived so far away. And she was in Chicago for a reason. She hoped she’d get to visit him in the not too distant future. But there was no point lingering too long in her daydreams.

She distracted herself by doing some of the things she loved. First she made some of her homemade poppy seed rolls in preparation to treat herself to an egg and cheese sandwich the next morning-- a favorite from her time in NYC. For dinner, she made herself one of her favorite comfort foods-- bruschetta.

After she ate, she did some intensive some self care. She took a bubble bath, covered herself in lotion, put on a sheet mask, and then laid on her couch. She started watching Love Island on her laptop, propping it up on her legs as she laid against the armrest of the couch. She was behind an episode and knew her sister would want to talk about it when she got back.

A few minutes after she laid down, she heard her phone vibrating against the wood of the table. She reached over, grabbing the phone with a tired groan. She sat straight up when she saw Luca’s name on the screen. She moved the laptop to the table and hit the green answer button on her phone.

“Hello?” she answered, voice coming out rushed. She reached over to pause the video on her laptop.

“Hi Sophie. How’s your night?” Luca asked.

“Good. Quiet. Just watching a show. Yours?” she asked, sinking back into her couch. Her nervous excitement immediately tempered by the already comfortingly familiar sound of his voice.

“It’s quiet here too,” he said, voice soft. “I got back to my hotel room and realized there was somewhere I’d rather be.”

“Yeah?” Sophie smiled, knowing she sounded embarrassingly eager. She couldn’t find it in herself to care.

“Would you like some company? I have to be up early for my flight but I could bring my luggage over and leave from there.”

“Yes!” she agreed immediately. “And I’m always up early anyways.”

“OK. Great. I’ll be there in a bit,” he sounded as excited as she did and she felt fluttery. They had one more night.

As soon as she hung up she went to the bathroom and peeled the face mask off. She fanned her face, trying to dry her skin quicker while she ran over to her bedroom. She quickly changed from her ratty t-shirt to a much cuter silky pajama set. She tidied, putting a few dishes into the dishwasher.

She looked around for other things to do. On a whim, she lit the candles she had on the table. After she returned from double checking her bedroom, she felt embarrassed at the lit candles and decided it was too much. She blew them out.

Realizing she was doing way too much, she sat, forcing herself to stop overthinking and just put Love Island back on to distract her until he arrived.

When she ran down to let him in, she realized she had forgotten how chilly it was outside. She opened the door and immediately wrapped an arm around herself, severely underdressed for the weather.

Luca stood in front of her with his small rolling suitcase and a leather messenger bag. “Hey,” she greeted with a soft smile, despite the shiver that shot down her spine.

He stepped forward and leaned down to kiss her gently. “You’re cold. Let’s get inside.” His hands rubbed up and down her arms quickly to warm her.

“Are you watching Love Island?” Luca asked, as he walked in and looked at her laptop propped up on her coffee table. He set his luggage aside, walked over, and plopped down on her couch. She shot him a questioning look, surprised he knew about the reality tv show. At his grin, she followed and sat next to him.

Sophie curled into him as he threw his arm around the back of the couch. She melted into the comfort of his warmth, feeling like it was where she belonged.

“Catch me up on what’s going on. My mom and sister love this show so I hear about it on our weekly calls,” Luca said as he started stroking her arm, up and down, gentle and familiar.

Sophie launched into an update after asking what he already knew. Something about the comfortable domesticity of being curled up on the sofa watching reality TV hit her and she snuggled into him more, so cozy she found herself fighting off sleep.

As the episode ended, Sophie snuggled into Luca with a yawn, blinking tired eyes as she tried to wake herself from the drowsy, comfy reverie she found herself in– wrapped safe in Luca’s arms.

“Bed time?” he asked, looking tired himself. She nodded.

Sophie got in bed to wait for him, trying to stay awake. He returned from the bathroom in an old t-shirt and climbed into bed with her, pulling her gently into his arms. He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

“I should set an alarm for 6:30. I have to be to the airport by 8,” Luca said.

“I set your phone on the charger by your side,” she said, pointing to the side table. He leaned over to grab his phone, keeping one arm wrapped around her. She snuggled into his chest.

“This is a nice shirt,” Sophie mumbled as Luca fiddled with his phone. Her fingers played with the hem. It had the soft worn feeling of a well loved piece of clothing.

“It’s an old football shirt. Used to play with some friends years back,” he said as he put the phone down. Sophie had snuck her hand underneath the shirt and around his side to wrap him in a hug. “You can have it if you want,” his voice was slowed, tired as he sunk down into her bed, comfortable in her arms.

“Wait really?” she perked up, cheeks glowing pink.

“Yeah. Not as soft as these pajamas but might keep you a bit warmer,” he teased, his hand running up her thigh and to her side, the silky fabric bunching against her, the heat of his palm finding the soft skin of her waist.

She blushed and hugged him tighter. “I’d like that,” she admitted, quietly. His hands caressed her side in calming movements that slowed as he sighed and shifted, getting comfortable.

She realized, slowly, that he didn’t want to have sex. He just wanted to sleep. With her. Wrapped in each other’s arms. She leaned up, cupping his face gently and pressing a kiss to his cheek before settling back down to wrap herself around him. “Goodnight, Luca.”

“Goodnight.”

---

Sophie was glad she had prepared the rolls, pleased she ended up having the chance to cook one of her comfort dishes for Luca. The two enjoyed a breakfast of egg sandwiches and coffee over the soundtrack provided by her neighbor’s music loud enough to be heard through the wall. Luca remarked on the songs between their quiet conversation, his easy going commentary making her smile.

They kissed goodbye on the stairs outside of her apartment building. “Text me when you get there safely,” she said, before really thinking about what that kind of request meant. He agreed.

And then he left.

She climbed the stairs to her apartment and shuffled back to her bed to lay down. She found he had left the t-shirt he had worn the night before. Folded neatly and placed on top of her blanket.

---

Sophie and Luca texted non stop through his time in New York. She loved seeing the pictures he sent. She shared some of her own, though she rarely had anything terribly interesting to send. Luca always seemed happy to hear about her days anyways.

Their conversations dropped off a few days later, after he returned home to Copenhagen. She was disappointed. She had found herself hoping for more, against her better instincts. She knew it was unlikely they’d be able to stay in contact with such a massive distance between them.

She decided to try to be happy with the experience and leave it at that. She couldn’t leave her sister anytime soon. And she had gotten so very attached to him in their three days together. Maybe it was healthy to step back a bit.

She forced the thoughts from her head as she walked into The Bear. She had told Carmy she'd return to help with decor decisions. And after their night of tapas and talking, she thought things between them were finally cleared. But as she stepped through the door, she found herself face to face with a clearly irritated Carmy.

“We don’t need you here,” he said, turning away from her, twisting a rag in his hands as he looked back down at a place setting and some dishware.

“What? I thought we were just going to talk about plates– and decor and stuff,” she said, confused and hurt. She thought things had been smoothed over between them.

“Yeah. But we don’t need you,” he said, again, arms crossed.

“What is this about?” she asked, getting frustrated. “Just tell me, okay?”

“You don’t need to be here. It isn’t your restaurant.” He was getting louder and instead of feeling cowed or wanting to run, Sophie found herself getting angry.

“What the fuck, Carmen? Just tell me what you’re actually mad about.”

“You didn’t tell Luca about your sister,” he said, voice suddenly quieter again. She heard a familiar voice from her side and she glanced over to see Fak mutter something to Nat, Carmy’s sister. They were both standing behind them, watching. Nat grabbed Fak’s arm and walked him away, giving her and Carmy privacy.

“What does that have to do with anything?” her voice shook, hurt that he had brought this up in front of an audience.

“He called me a few days ago, wanting to talk about you. And I had to tell him why you’re in Chicago.” He was getting louder. “It’s not my fucking job to be your babysitter.” He threw the cloth he was holding on the table and walked away.

Sophie followed after him. “You’re not running away from this Carmen,” she followed him back into the kitchen. “Talk to me!” she shouted as she got through the door. He turned, looking furious. And that made her even angrier. “Why the fuck would you tell him? Why is this your business?” “He’s my friend! And you just didn’t mention that your sister has cancer? That maybe he shouldn’t start planning trips for you to come see him?”

Some part of Sophie’s brain stuck on that idea. That Luca had wanted her to come see him. But the rest of her was pounding heart, pumping blood, furious at Carmy.

“It wasn’t your place to tell him. This is my life!” she nearly growled at him. She was furious he had meddled. Furious he was judging her for this. Like he hadn’t kissed her after he started talking to Claire again.

He was supposed to be her friend.

“Listen to yourself. This is his life too. You can’t fuck around with my friends.”

“Fuck around with your friends? He asked me out! We’re adults, Carmy!” She wanted to scream at him. What was his problem? “He lives in Copenhagen. He was here for three days. He didn’t need to know!”

“It isn’t my job to clean up after you anymore,” he said, voice cold and deliberate. It was a low blow. Cruel. She felt it in her ribcage.

She thought for a second she saw remorse in his eyes, as if he could see how much it had hurt to hear him disparage the help he had given her. But he didn’t say anything else.

“Okay Carmen,” she said bitterly, turning to leave.

But she felt the tide of anger rise up and she clenched her fists. How could he act like she was in the wrong? After everything that had happened?

“No– you know what? Who do you think you are? I wanted one nice day! One fucking day where I wasn’t the sad girl. And don’t act like you don’t know Carmen. You can’t be mad at me for not telling my whole life story to someone I had known for three days.” She was breathing heavily, still staring him dead in the eye.

He just shook his head. Watching him judge her was infuriating. She couldn’t help herself. “I didn’t lie! He didn’t ask. I told him I moved here for my sister. He didn’t ask why.”

“I don’t want to listen to your excuses,” he said, voice deadly calm. But she was still shaking with righteous fury. “Fine. I’m done, Carmen. I’m so fucking done.” She stormed past and left out the back door. She was shaking, her breaths coming fast. She tried to hold back tears but stormed out of the alley behind The Bear, tears streaming down her face.

She thought she heard someone calling for her but she kept up her pace and left, not wanting to talk to anyone.

---

Sophie sat on her couch, ignoring the television show playing in front of her. Her phone started buzzing on her coffee table so she reached out, freezing when Carmy’s name flashed on the screen.

She groaned and left it, ignoring the call. She was not ready to talk to him. Sick of the yelling and the fighting. She wanted to help him but he made it so fucking hard. She was done with the hot and cold. She just wanted a quiet night.

A little while later she saw the indicator pop up meaning he left a message. She didn’t listen to it.

She felt like the little magic bubble around her time with Luca popped and she was back in the real world. She pushed the heels of her hands against her eyelids, frustrated with herself. She decided to just text Luca. Clear the air. She didn’t want to sit with this feeling.

“Hey! Want to set up a call soon? It has been a while,” she sent, figuring she would keep it light. She didn’t want to send him an ominous ‘we need to talk’ text.

An hour or so later he replied.

“Are you still awake? I could call while I’m walking to work.”

“That would be great! I’ll be up for a while yet.”

After 20 minutes, her phone finally started to ring. “Hello?” she answered quickly.

“Hey,” he responded. His voice calmed her a little, the same warm Luca.

Still, there was an awkward silence. She knew she needed to talk about it. But she put it off a little longer.

“It’s early. 4:30 there?”

“Yeah it’s about a 20 minute walk from my place. It’s nice here in the early mornings though. Peaceful.”

“That sounds nice,” Sophie agreed.

Another pause. She breathed. Knew she needed to get it out in the open. “I suppose I should tell you, Carmy told me about the conversation you two had.”

Luca was quiet on the other side of the world.

“He was mad on your behalf. Didn’t let me off easy. He’s a good friend to have.” She sighed after a pause.

“He was mad?” He sounded surprised.

“Yeah. I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to hide things. It’s just– we were having a nice time and I didn’t want to ruin it,” she said, quietly.

“Sophie, he shouldn’t have been mad. I’m not mad,” Luca said, sounding concerned. “You moved across the country to take care of your family. Why would I be mad that you didn’t tell me all of that after only a few days?”

Sophie was relieved but confused. Carmy had exploded at her. She assumed Luca must have been mad too. She felt tears in her eyes, wanting to be released. She took a shaky breath, not sure how to reply.

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” she answered but her trembling voice betrayed her.

“Oh love,” he said. “You thought I was mad? I’m not. I was trying to figure out what to say. I was going to call on my day off tomorrow.”

“It was such a magical couple days. I thought I had ruined it,” she admitted, feeling stupid. “I’m sorry. It’s been a weird day. I’m fine.”

“Sophie. You don’t need to apologize. Really.” She heard some noise on his end, like someone was greeting him. And he was quiet for a bit. “Are you still there?”

“Yeah,” she said, voice a little less wobbly. “Sorry, I’m trying to figure out what happened.”

“Yeah- I don’t really understand myself. I’ll talk to Carmy,” he sounded a little frustrated.

“Maybe he is just caught up with the restaurant stuff,” she said, tiredly, defending him without really thinking about it.

Luca hummed. “Are you okay?” he asked, sounding concerned.

“Yeah. I think I was preparing myself for a different conversation so I’m catching up.”

“I’m sorry I made you think you did something wrong. I shouldn’t have talked to Carmy. I didn’t think about it.”

“No it’s okay.” She paused and sighed. She didn't know what to say, still reeling. But then she realized there was one good thing she learned. “It was nice to hear you still wanted me to visit. I was already looking up things to do in Copenhagen.”

“Yeah? Find anything good” he said, smile clear in his voice.

“The botanical gardens look beautiful.” She tried to remember specifics but came up blank. “Um–there was a castle.”

“Thorough research,” he teased her.

“Well you see, there’s this guy there–”

“Is there?”

“He makes really fantastic french toast.”

“Does he?” She could hear his smile and it made her blush.

“And I thought he could show me around. Be my tour guide.”

Luca chuckled and the sound soothed her. “I’d love to.”

“We should make real plans soon,” she said, her exhaustion catching up to her as she fought off a yawn.

“I’d like that. You sound tired. And it must be late there, you should go to sleep. But– you’re wonderful, Sophie. And we should talk more soon, yeah?” His voice was warm and calming. In only a few minutes he had convinced her everything would be okay.

She blushed. “Yeah. Thanks, Luca,” she said. She felt calmed. “Good night. Or good morning.”

“Good night, Sophie.”

She went to bed– decided she’d listen to Carmy’s voicemail in the morning. She wanted to end her night on a happy note.

---

“I’m sorry, Soph.

I didn’t tell him on purpose. I thought he knew so when he started asking about Copenhagen, I brought it up. But it wasn’t my place.

And I know– I should have been looking out for you. I want to look out for you. I’m just– things are difficult with the restaurant right now.

I feel like I’m wasting too much time with Claire. And I don’t know what I’m doing any more.

But I shouldn’t have yelled. And I’m really sorry.

Just-please come to the friends and family night.”

She couldn’t miss the opening of his restaurant. No matter how annoyed she was at him. She texted him that she’d be there.

---

The Bear was full of familiar faces when she arrived. She waved at Pete who was clearly waiting for Nat to return. Sophie assumed she must’ve gotten pulled into more restaurant madness. It was their first attempt at service, Sophie knew things must be intense in the kitchen.

Richie showed her, Tim, and Mallory to a table in the corner. “Nice suit,” she said to him as he pulled out her chair. He grinned at her, standing taller. He introduced himself to her sister and she could tell the two of them got on immediately.

Wine was poured, the menu was shared. Sophie decided to order the pasta dish Syd had talked about the week prior. As she looked around the restaurant, she knew they were building something incredible.

Carmen came and served their first dish, pouring their broth with steady hands. She smiled at him as he looked up. “Everything looks amazing, Carm.” She said to him, noticing his nerves. He smiled and thanked her. She could still feel the awkwardness between them, they hadn’t really talked since their fight. But she wanted him to know she supported him.

He quickly greeted Tim and Mallary, thanking them for coming. Mallary smiled at him and thanked him for the invite.

After a few minutes, Sophie noticed Richie go into the kitchen and not come back. It looked like there was an issue with some other tables getting their food out. Only barely noticeable, the tiniest bit longer than she’d expected, but she knew the signs of stress too well. She was worried for Carmy.

"This is fantastic." Mallary gushed, eating her steak. "He really is talented," she said, looking to Sophie. “Even if he is an asshole.”

"He is under a lot of pressure,” she countered, taking the first bite of Syd’s dish. It was perfect. The noodles were the perfect texture. The sauce was perfectly balanced. She closed her eyes, savoring the taste. She knew she needed to congratulate Syd the next time she saw her.

The night went on and Carmy never came out. Mallary kept shooting Sophie concerned glances and she didn't know how to explain what she was feeling.

Sophie watched as Claire got up and pushed her way into the kitchen. They had finished dessert, Marcus's honey bun was amazing, and Sophie had been trying to draw out their time a little before they left to make sure things were okay.

"I feel like something is wrong," she admitted, toying with the napkin on the table. “I’m a little worried for Carmy.” She waited and sighed. “But Claire just went in, she’s probably got it covered. We should just go.”

Her sister looked at her concerned but nodded. The three stood up, getting ready to leave. Tim held out Mallary’s coat to help her slide it on. There was a crashing noise and all three watched as the kitchen doors swung open and Claire stormed out of the kitchen and met up with her friends, tears in her eyes.

"Go back there," Mallary encouraged, looking at her sister.

Sophie bit her lip but nodded. “I’ll be right back.”

She walked in to see Richie yelling at the freezer. She couldn’t fully process what he was saying, the banging on the freezer making her stop in shock trying to figure out what was happening.

Carmy was yelling, the sound muffled from the other side of the freezer. His pounding echoing around the nearly empty kitchen. Richie was yelling back. Sophie looked to Syd, eyes wide. “What is going on?”

“Carmy’s locked in the freezer.”

“Fuck-” she exhaled. She walked over to Richie, the closer she got, the more clearly she could hear Carmy’s frantic shouts through the freezer. Her heart started racing, unsure how to help– how to handle it.

Richie turned to see her walking up. He called towards the freezer, “You got another visitor, asshole. Let’s see you fuck it up with her too.”

She heard Carmy’s muffled “What the fuck did you say?” directed at Richie.

"Richie,” she said incredulously, eyes wide at his snipe at Carmen.

“Did you see Claire? He’s fucking everything up tonight. I’d stay the fuck away.”

She was still angry at Carmen. Still hurt that he threw her struggles in New York in her face the last time they spoke. But she couldn’t help but defend her friend. “Richie this is a huge night and he's in the freezer! And you're yelling at him? Just go walk it off."

"Yeah, take his side,” he was clearly still heated, rolling his shoulders back and looking up at the ceiling.

She stepped closer and crossed her arms. "Walk it off, Richie.” Her voice was calm– deadly quiet.

"Fine. Fuck. You deal with him." He stalked off.

"Fuck," she whispered to his retreating back. "Is someone coming to get him out?" She turned to Syd and Marcus who had been watching the whole exchange.

"Yeah" Syd said, walking over. "Another 30 minutes at least though."

"Okay," she acknowledged. She walked over to the freezer and placed an ear on it. Carmy had stopped yelling.

"Carm." she said. "It’s Sophie. I’m out here. I’m gonna go send my sister home and then I’ll be right back ok?” She waited a second but didn’t hear a response.

She walked quickly to the front of house and hugged Tim and Mallary goodbye, before rushing back to the kitchen. She slid to the floor and sat against the freezer, back to the door. “I’m back.” She called into the freezer. Syd had disappeared somewhere, service was over and it was quiet.

"You shouldn't be here." She finally heard Carmy say to her, and she sighed in relief, glad he was at least speaking to her. She hesitated, unsure how to respond. But found herself blurting the thing on her mind.

“You followed me into a freezer four years ago. On one of the hardest nights of my life,” she said, turning and putting her cheek against the door, palm on the floor. “I thought my whole world was falling apart.”

She remembered that night with dread in her chest. Their head chef threw her plate of food at her, the sauce splattered across her chest, plate bruising her shoulder and crashing to the floor, her heart racing. She had rushed into the first place she could hide, the freezer. And Carmy had followed. Had held her as she fell apart in his arms.

“But it was okay. You made sure I was okay. And I needed you to know that out there, the night was perfect. Your team pulled it off. And it fucking sucks that you missed it in here. But you still did this, Carm. It was still your day.”

He was silent for a while, and Sophie waited nervously for a response. Worried she had messed up.

“Thanks, Sophie.”

She sighed, relieved, turning so her back was against the door again. “Of course, Carm. I’m here.”

Eventually, someone came out and cut open the freezer door. She felt her heart breaking for Carmy as he walked out, looking exhausted and downtrodden. She stepped forward before she could stop herself and pulled him into a hug, squeezing him tightly to her chest. She pulled away after a second, as she watched Nat step forward to talk to him. Sophie smiled quickly at Nat and then at Carmy, gesturing with her thumb that she was going to head out.

She grabbed her clutch and pulled out her phone. Quickly texting her sister saying she was headed home, that everything was fine. Then she ordered a Lyft home.

---

Luca texted as she arrived home, asking about the opening. She smiled, thankful she had someone to talk about her night with. She hit the call button as she walked into her apartment, slipping off her shoes, tension melting away as soon as she heard Luca’s voice.

“Hello love, how was your night?”

#chef luca x reader #carmy berzatto x original character #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear fanfic #richie jerimovich x reader #the bear fanfiction

67 notes · View notes

sleepysnk · 2 years

Note

edging + pain

a/n: hey toniiii 😏, thank you for requesting for my event. pain deserves more content, so thank you again. i hope you enjoy!

pairings: pain x fem!reader

warnings: canonverse, nsfw, smut, edging, degradation, pain is kind of mean, squirting, some brief praising, fingering, jealousy.

7K EVENT: EDGING + PAIN

“P-Pain..! I’m close..”

Looking up at you with deep amethyst eyes, Pain paused in his movements inside of you. You couldn’t cum just yet. You needed to take your punishment.

A whine came from your lips from the realization that Pain had halted his fingering. This was about the third time Pain had edged you. You weren’t sure what was going on with your lover. He had seemed to have been in a decent mood throughout the day, so his sudden change in behavior had rubbed you the wrong way. He seemed upset with you, but you brushed it off as the two of you got into bed with each other.

After several minutes of quiet, Pain had made a move on you.

It started off with slow kisses down your jaw and neck. It was subtle, but then his hands began to dive elsewhere. His left hand went underneath the hem of your sleeping shorts, his fingers teasing and stroking at your sensitive bud. His soft touches turned into more aggressive ones, and, within a few moments, Pain had your pussy soaked. He often felt entertained seeing how quickly your cunt grew wet. You were always so easy to crumble for him.

However, Pain had become somewhat rough. He slipped two of his fingers inside of you and had a relentless pace with his pumps. His fingers were slender and quite long. They touched every area inside of you that made you feel sensitive. It made your orgasm appear almost within minutes, but, every time you were about to hit that high, Pain would stop. There’d also be this evil look in his eye that’d send shivers down your spine. It was almost as if he was getting off on you being so desperate.

Pain did have some other motives for his behavior. You pissed him off, and, to add onto that, you made him jealous as well.

It wasn’t intentional in any aspect. You had just happened to be speaking with Itachi when Pain had stepped into the room. He had been curious about your whereabouts all day, and to see you speaking with Itachi so confidently had annoyed him. You were his lover, he worried about you almost every moment of the day. You hadn’t checked in all day, so he had thought the worst had happened to you.

Although he was relieved that you were alive and well, he was still pissed. He decided to make sure you felt what he had been feeling.

He watched as your head tossed from side to side as he paused in his movements. He could sense how needy your body was for him. Your thighs were trembling and shaking with desire, and your body was boiling hot. He didn’t like being mean to you, but you pushed him to the edge. Pain needed to prove to you that he was the only person who could make you feel such ecstasy.

He decided to fuck with you again.

Pain started to pump both of his fingers inside of you at a quick pace. This sudden motion caused you to cry out in pleasure. You had no clue that this was some sort of punishment. Pain hadn’t said a thing while he kept fingering you. He just kept his eyes straight on you. His face was serious, and it honestly made you feel intimidated. You couldn’t decipher what he could be thinking about.

Your fingernails dug into the bed sheets underneath you. The edging feeling you kept receiving was driving you insane. “P-Pain! Please.. I wanna c-cum..” your eyes rolled backward as his middle finger brushed up against that delicious spot inside you.

Pain’s cock twitched inside of his boxers at the sound of your angelic voice. He loved to hear you beg like that. It honestly stroked his ego knowing he was the only person you’d ever beg for. Only he deserved that kind of treatment from you. He was the only man in the entire world that you moaned and whined for every night. He wanted you to know that.

Without warning, the orange-haired man pressed his thumb against your clit. Your vision blurred with white stars covering your eyes. That familiar knot inside of your belly was beginning to show itself again. It felt tight too, almost something you’ve never felt before.

Pain felt your walls fluttering and quivering around his fingers. Your body language was also telling him that you were about to cum. He wanted to let you cum, but he just couldn’t. He was still pissed at you. There was also still jealousy swarming through his body.

“You’re so eager..” Pain finally spoke, “However.. I’d expect nothing less from a dirty girl like you..”

Your eyes grew wide from his sudden words. They didn’t offend you, no, if anything you were turned on by his deep voice. Pain always had such a way with dirty talking to you to the point where you’d almost cum from how seductive he sounded. Those were the first words he had spoken to you that evening.

The pace he had suddenly slowed down, earning a whimper from your throat. Your body felt so sensitive from his touch. It was practically screaming at you to find that release you’ve been desperately wanting to achieve.

You reached over to place your hand on Pain’s arm. His eyes immediately averted towards where you were lying down. He could practically feel the need and desire coming from your body. He could tell you were at your breaking point. Your body language and your facial expressions were telling it all. If Pain had a talent, it would be reading people like they were books.

You were his favorite read.

Grabbing your face with his free hand, Pain pulled you towards him. He saw that your pupils were blown with lust, and your breathing was heavy. It made a smirk appear on his features from your actions.

“You know.. you drive me insane sometimes..” he looked deep into your eyes, “Watching you laugh at Itachi makes me so angry.. but he will never make you feel as good as I do..”

Your face burned from his words. You finally put the dots together at his sudden behavior. Pain was jealous over Itachi. You honestly felt kind of stupid for realizing that later than you should of, but your boyfriend was always so unpredictable. His random switches in demeanor were never out of the ordinary. However, you never expected Pain to be the type to be so jealous over somebody like Itachi. He had been in the akatsuki for such a long time, so it was a bit of a surprise to you.

You nodded your head instantly. You wanted to reassure your boyfriend that there was no chance of Itachi taking you from him. “Only you.. Pain,” your moan left you breathless. You found it to be quite difficult to speak since you were still receiving some pleasure.

This cocky grin wrote itself onto his face. Those were the words he had been hoping to hear the entire night.

Suddenly, he began to finger you again. His pace was quick like before. Your head fell backward as the pleasure rushed over your belly. Pain grew aroused from the sweet noises your cunt was making in response to his pumps against your pussy. If he wasn’t careful, his fingers would probably slip out of you. You were dripping wet, and he thought that was the most erotic thing he’s ever heard. It made it even better than you were soaking for him.

Curling his finger upward, Pain watched your mouth fall open from his touch. He could feel the way your walls were twitching around him. You were close again, that familiar knot from before began to appear in your stomach again.

Pain leaned towards your ear, his breath fanning against your skin. “Are you going to cum, baby..? You’re such a good slut for me..” he nibbled on the shell of your ear, “I better hear you scream my fucking name, got it..?”

Your head immediately shook in response. Pain loved how desperate your eyes were. He got off on you acting that way. It had to be his guilty pleasure when it came to you.

The weight in your belly felt unbearable. You could tell by the way your body was acting that this orgasm was going to be intense for you. It threatened to break at any moment. If Pain kept up with his pace, you’d surely crumble beneath him. However, you had been waiting on your high for so long. You wanted to cum all over his fingers.

A wave of euphoria suddenly hit you, causing several loud moans to come from your mouth. “Pain! Oh, shit, Pain!” you cried out in ecstasy as your high took over you.

Pain’s eyes widened when he felt something wet leaking all over his hand. He turned his head instantly to see a clear liquid coming from your cunt. You were squirting, and Pain was very shocked to see such a reaction from you. He didn’t think such a thing was possible, but he wasn’t complaining. He thought it was hot.

Your liquids covered the sheets below you, and embarrassment flooded onto your features when you realized what just happened to you. “O-Oh..” you sat up by using your elbows as support.

Pain still had his fingers buried in you. Your body felt exhausted and you were a trembling mess in his hands. “Don’t be embarrassed..” he turned his head to meet your eyes, “I think that was pretty lovely of you..”

Your head leaned backward on the pillow behind you. You were still in shock that your body did such a thing, but it felt good. It was a delicious feeling you had never experienced before.

“Don’t think we’re going to bed just yet..” Pain’s voice broke the silence that surrounded the room, “I still need some relief.. and I want to see you do that again..”

#summer responds #SleepySnk’s7kEvent #toni <3 #naruto x reader #naruto x you #naruto x y/n #pain naruto #pein naruto #pein x reader #akatsuki smut #naruto smut #akatsuki x reader #akatsuki x you #anime fanfic #naruto fanfiction #naruto #anime

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hermionewrites · 4 months

Text

1. through fire, nature is reborn whole.

wc:2400

One of the most daunting moments for an eleven year old wizard is having your fate decided by an raggedy old hat. It was a dirty brown with a gash for a mouth that let out a gravely voice. One by one people got called up and sorted into one of four houses. Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor and Slytherin. Hundereds of eyes follow the poor student as they sit on the rickety old stool and wait for the leathery thing to cry out. Tiny feet shuffle foreward and cram close together, thinning in numbers as the night goes on.

The ceiling above them morphs and changes to match the exact state of the weather outside. Showing the light drizzle turn to a violent heavy rain. It was a grand room, with high ceilings coverd in ornate, delicate carvings. Square windows let the last light of the day into the hall, lighting it up softly.

A boy was called up to the stool and the hat doesn't call out a house straight away. It hums and huffs for a long time and the hall settles in a expectant silence. Sabrina's face contorts in confusion as people around them start some idle conversation an the boy on the stool looks embarassed as he waits for the decision.

"It's called a hat stall." The boy next to her whispered, leaning over to her slightly. She looks around at him, more confused than before. He had rounded glasses and messy dark brown hair that stuck up at the back.

"A hat stall?" She clarified, no idea what he was on about.

"It's when the hat takes longer than five minutes to sort someone." He explained quietly. "I'm James, James Potter." He introduced himself and holds his hand out to shake.

"Sabrina Rivera." She replied and shook his hand. It was slightly clammy, she wiped it in her robe once he lets go. More people had started to whisper the longer the hat took to decide where to put the boy.

"What house do you want to be in?" He can't stand still as he asks, impatient for his turn while his eys dart to the hat every couple of seconds.

"I'm not sure, I don't know a lot about them." She shrugged, not much care for what house she got placed in.

"I want to be in Gryffindor, like my parents." He began hopefully. "But I'd be happy with Ravencaw or Hufflepuff. Not Slytherin though." He exclaimed grimly.

"What's wrong with Slytherin?" Sabrina asked, taken aback slightly by the bite in his tone and glancing over at the table with the green banner embelished with a snake above it.

"Evil and rotten, the lot of them." His face turned grim and he rolled his eyes at the table. Sabrina opened her mouth to ask more questions when the hat finally shouted out.

"Gryffindor!" It projected and the round blond boy on the stool looked greatly relived and the long table let out a huge roar. Other tables clapped politely, as he walks quickly over to the table.

Mcgonagall's sharp voice cut through the noise of the crowd. "James Potter." She called out to the small crowd, all huddled at the front.

"Good luck." Sabrina whispered as he confidently strides up to the front of the hall. Placing the hat on his head, it contemplates for a couple seconds before crying out. Gryffindor again. His face lights up and he bounds over to the table of his dreams. The cheers were massively loud this time. They were happy to have him. James' face was plastered with a huge smile as he shakes the hands of the people sat around him.

After the cheering had died out, Professor Mcgonagall called out again. "Sabrina Rivera."

Her feet shuffle up to the stool and it rocks slightly as she sits on it, one of the legs worn away slightly more than the others. Then Professor Mcgonagall lifts up the hat to her head. She was a tall, severe-looking woman who had her long dark hair pulled into a tight bun. She lowered the hat onto her head and the dusty smell hit her nose, sending a small shiver down her spine. It barely touched the fly-away hairs that were sticking out of her ponytail before it made it's decision.

"Slytherin!" It erupted out and Sabrina's stomach dropped as she slowly dragged herself over to the table. However, unlike before, there was no roar of applause and the silence was haunting. She could hear her own footsteps on the cool stone floors and she plants herself on the end on the end of the table.

"Are your parents magical?" The girl opposite her asked, not even bothering to introduce herself. She had long black hair, bright blue eyes and a nose that pointed downwards. The girl next to her and a blonde bob and blue eyes too. "I don't recognise your name, thats all."

"No, they're not." Sabrina answers naively. She watches the girls faces contort from a neutral to full on disgust. Others around that were listening in also narrowed their eyes.

"I'm a Bulstrode, pureblooded." She boasted, a huge pridful smirk crawls onto her face. The blonde next to her sneers, practically retracting back into her own face.

"Why is there a mudblood in our house." She spit, turning her nose up at Sabrina, like she had smelt a foul stench.

Mudblood. Sabrina had never heard that word before, she thought the word for people like her was muggle or muggleborn. The disgusted tone that coated the words gave the impression that mudblood was not a term of endearment. Whispers travel up the table and they all turn to glare and leer at her. Heat travelled up the front of her chest and rolled up her neck. She hunched over, tucking her hands into her lap.

The rest of the sorting dragged on forever, every time the hall lit up with cheer. Then another was sorted into Slytherin. He was skinny and had short mousey brown hair, reflecting auburn in some lights. His name was Thaddeus Travers. When he was sorted, the table ruptured out in applause, cheers and noises of exterme happiness. He was immediately welcomed to the table, an older kid who looked like him pulled him in for a huge hug. What was wrong with having non-magical parents?

A light clinking fills the room and everyone swivles their heads towards Headmaster Dumbledore. He was an old man; a face full of wrinkles; silvery almost white hair that flowed past his shoulders and a beard to match. Purple velvet robes cover him, with small embroidered gold stars all over. He carried a slight mischievous whimsy in his eye and he walks up to the small podium. A gold owl is carved into it, it's wings spread wide as if it was going to take flight.

"Now, a warm welcome to our new students and another for our old ones." He projected across the room. "Another year of magical education awaits you! Now a few rules." He says. "Mr Filch wants to remind you that the forbidden forest, is indeed forbidden. And no magic in the coridoors! Now!" He claps his hands together, "Tuck in."

Just as Sabrina's face was going to scrunch up in confusion, hoards of food appear on the table. Platters of roast beef, chicken, pork and lamb chops, sausages, bacon, steak, joints, pies of all varieties, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, mashed potatoes, peas, carrots, gravy, and bread rolls. It was very... English. She plates up a small bit of everything, her eyes widen in wonder at the sheer amount of choice.

After inhaling the dinner, the plates disapeared. Only to be replaced with more filled with desserts. Peppermint humbugs, stacks of cupcakes, and regular cakes. However, no one even bothered to soclaise in her direction.

The feast came to a close and Dumbledore rose once again. "The houses respected prefects will escort the first years to the dorms.” Then, an older girl in green robes stands up, telling the first years to follow her.

The corridors were long and winding, all looking identical. The labrynth of stone walls lead to a large hub of staircases. Suddenly, one comes out of place, rumbling as it moves to another balcony. The other houses heading up the flights apon flights of stairs, Sabrina looked up expectantly, excited to see where the Slytherin common room was.

"We're down in the dungeons." She said, pointing down a large staircase. The group followed and the lower and deeper they got into the castle, the more dark it became. There was a slight damp and dingy smell as they came to a stop in front of a stone wall.

It was an ordinary stone wall. Stuck together with cement. Rough, grey stone. None of her new classmates looked confused as they all stood staring at a plain stone wall. Boring, plain, solid stone would have been there for centuries.

"The password is pureblood." At that the bricks started to grind and pull away from eachother. They fold on top of another brick, creating a makeshift arch and revealing, a set of deep oak double doors. They gilded open and the prefect led the group down the black marble stairs, shiny enough to see your reflection in it.

The common room is cool and dimly lit. There is a fountain filling the enterance with the sound of trickling water. The ceilings are ornately carved, they give off a sweet scent of damp stone. The dark wood bookcases that line the walls are home to rare books and antiques such as skulls, skeletons, crystals, and pottery. In the corner there is an emerald grand piano that is playing itself, the melody it exudes is soft but haunting. There are velvet armchairs placed around where many students are curlded up reading or competitively playing chess. Long tables are set up for study groups, illuminated by a large crystal chandiler above it.

However, what caught Sabrina's attention the most was the windows. They are round and stone lined but what layed beyond them was much more perplexing. They were underwater. Blue light from the moon cuts through the murky water. It made the entire room have a green hue.

"The girl's dorms are on the left and the boy's are on the right." The prefect said, pointing in opposite directions for each. There was a small winding staircase at each end, made of the same reflective marble as the enterence stairs. Portraits of people line the walls near the dormatories and Sabrina jumped back when one of them moved out of it's frame.

"I hope I don't have to room with the mudblood." A girl infront of her whispers and the one next to her agrees. Fiddling with her fingers, Sabrina looks for her name on her dedicated door. Her dorm was on the right side, second door down. There was a peice of yellow paper, or parchment as wizards called it, with four names written on it. Violetta Bulstrode, Melody Fawley, Sabrina Rivera, Regina Rowle.

Pushing open the door, Sabrina shuffles in awkwardly and all three girls inside abruptly stop giggling and glares fill their faces. Disappointment following quickly after. Her eyes flit aroud the room and take it all in. It was spacious and finely decorated. Next to each bed there were desks that matched the rest of the dark wood in the room. Imported rugs cover the floor and are incredibly soft on her feet as she makes her way to the bed in the corner.

The bed was four poster, adorned with green bedsheets that felt impossibly soft. Curtains are gathered at each post and tied off with bows. Sabrina grabbed her trunk and slid it under the bed, pulling out her pyjamas for the night. Climbing in, she shoves the curtains across, creating a barrier between the other girls and her. They had resumed their giggling and the occasional snide comment.

She laid there on her back, staring up at the ceiling. Millions of thoughts swirled around in her mind, eating away at her stomach. She thought back to the conversations during the sorting. If all Slytherins were evil because they didn't like muggleborns, how evil was she?

____

Meanwhile in Gryffindor tower, James was sat in his own dorm. It was warm and comfy with wooden floors that creak when it rains. Thick drapes line the windows to keep the heat in and keep out the harsh morning light. The cluttered writing desks organise themselves every time you enter the room.

"So you're glad you got Gryffindor then?" He asked the boy on the bed next to him. They had met on the train, both sharing their hopes to be placed in Gryffindor, for it being the best house.

"Yeah, I'm glad l'm not a snake." He said, a small smile on his face. "My parents are going to be so mad."

Then two more boys push open the door to their room. James' face lights up in recognition.

"Hey! We met you guys on the train too!"

"I'm Peter." One of them introduced himself. He was blond and short. His cheeks were rosy and round. Awkwardly, he stood next to the other boy he walked in with.

"You were the hatstall, right?" James asked. Peter nods sheepishly, turning his head down to the floor. "James." He added quickly afterwards, realising he has forgotten to introduce himself.

"I'm Remus." The other boy said. He was taller, with long limbs. His hair was mousey brown and floppy. And a face with small thin scars littered over it, some white and pink. He was carefully placing many, many pairs of eclectic socks into his bedside table.

"Do you have enough pairs of socks, mate?" Sirius asked sarcastically.

"Have you got enough hair on your head?" Quipped Remus. Suddenly, all four boys bursted out in loud, contagious laughter. The kind that made you roll around grabbing at your stomach, gasping for breath between laughs.

"Where are you guys from?" Peter asked, pulling out his uniform for the morning.

"Cotswolds."

"London but my family comes from France."

"Wales."

"Middlesbrough."

Their conversation lasted long into the night, the room filled with laughter. The group barely getting any sleep before their first day of classes.

#james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #marauders #james potter fanfiction #james potter x oc #sabrina rivera #lily evans #harry potter #fanfic #wattpad #posted on ao3

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luci-z-wont-shut-up · 1 year

Text

I will not expand upon this idea but I need to get it out of my brain and write it down somewhere so here you go

Plagg and Tikki start sensing Weird Eldritch Shit (for handwavey plot reasons) and are like “this isn’t Miraculous magic, we can’t deal with this directly” but they are aware that other types of magic exist within the universe and so they tell this to their holders. So Ladybug either calls an in-person hero meeting or contacts each person individually, idk which yet, and asks if perhaps they’ve experienced anything... weird or unnatural other than akumas. So basically this goes into like testing for ablilities and investigation into people claiming to weird visions of giant tentacled beasts and for a little bit they’re worried that Hawkmoth pushed his power too far and did Something, but it’s affecting both sides during their battles, and they learn there are reports in several locations all over the world, not just France, so it turns into this looming concern.

Finally Ladybug hears from Markov (via Max) of an unnamed contact he and Aeon have been communicating with who claims to have a relative who specializes in this kind of stuff and who has offered their help. Jessica/Eagle confirms she and Uncanny have met this relative, who happens to live in New York state, in person, and that she’s been able to help clear this issue in the affected U.S. areas. Ladybug agrees to have her sent over and tells them to pass along a message: “Be ready to meet at Francois-Dupont.”

Unfortunately, Marinette is incredibly sick that day with a stomach bug, and because of one reason or another doesn’t tell Chat Noir that their exorcist contact will be meeting them nearer the school that day. (It’s not intentional, and she has kept him in the loop about the general might-have-someone-who-can-help-us situation.)

Anyway cue Adrien running into class just in time for role call (he was made late by Plagg last-minute filling him in on Ladybug’s situation). After Mme Bustier calls his attendance, Adrien notices the seating is slightly different. He half turns to look at the back row on the other side of the classroom and sees a new girl with short pale hair and piercing eyes in... the strangest shade of purple? He doesn’t sense any danger, but now that he’s checking there’s a weird veiled aura of power around her. Mme Bustier calls Rose for attendance and the new girl answers as well. Bustier asks, “Rose L?” The girl gives a small wry smile and says, “no disrespect meant, dear teacher, but that doesn’t bring to light what must be revealed.” Bustier just kind of looks at her weirdly and then squints at her attendance sheet. Adrien is wondering if this is some weird sort of lower-key akuma and is trying to subtley plan escape routes and possible battle contigencies. Bustier just gives up and calls, “Rose Lavillant?” a quiet “Here.” She turns to the new girl and says, “and how did you end up in my class, young miss?"

The new girl says, “Pleasure to make the acquaintance of your class, Mme Caline.” (Bustier startles. Did she not give the girl her name, Adrien wonders?) “My name is Rose Lalonde, and I’m cousins with a friend of Markov’s, but I have a few other... friends, visiting in France.” And she turns her gaze straight to Adrien’s in a look that sends icy shivers down his spine as she says with a sweet, knowing smile, “I’ve heard so much about all of you.”

#crossover #fic ideas #miraculous ladybug #homestuck #basically my brain one day went 'both fandoms have a Rose L haha funee' and then wouldn't shut up for the next 2 weeks #rose lavillant #rose lalonde #and yes the 'unnamed contact' is in fact hal strider #I couldn't just NOT include him somehow #lucifanbabbles #zizistuff

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momobani · 2 years

Text

[19:54]

sub!mingyu x softdom!gn!reader - 2.5k

warnings: smut (MINORS DNI!); sub!mingyu, anal play, use of toys, spanking, hand job, mild(?) degradation, mirror play (is that what it’s called?), edging, corruption kink (if you squint)

sum: straight up filth, in which you make Mingyu watch as you make him fall apart.

A/N: it’s been a minute since i uploaded, going through it right now but i don’t want to call a semi-hiatus lol, enjoy <3

You were usually last to come home out of the two of you, barely ever beating Mingyu to it. And today was no exception as you walk through your front door and call out to see if he’s home already. He signals he’s in the kitchen so you put away your stuff and go to find him.

You find him in a most interesting condition.

Mingyu is standing at the sink, doing the dishes, in nothing but a tiny pink apron. It doesn’t even properly reach the middle of his thighs. You couldn’t help the way your eyes wander over his beautiful figure, his broad shoulders, his wide back and his pretty little ass.

You know what he is doing, the slutty attention whore in him clearly awakened. He knew how to make you want to colour his ass several shades of red, flaunting off his hotness any chance he got so you’d get the hint and play with him.

“My, my, my sweet little dishwashing fairy, what is this?” You saunter up behind him and give him a back hug.

“Nothing, just doing some dishes.” He replies shyly. You love the way he starts to do something provocative, something a little bold but becomes timid in the middle of doing it and you’re left to encourage whatever filthy thing he was attempting. Just like any other day, today was no exception.

“Really?” You ask, moving to his side to see his face. You watch him as he catches your eye for a split second and looks away sheepishly, an obvious blush spreading across his cheeks. “Because it doesn’t look like nothing, is there anything you want to tell me, honey?” You stroke the back of his head softly, observing him. He’s biting his lip, only barely but it makes you want to ravage him.

“I was- I mean I wanted to…to give you a surprise.” He stutters. You smile at him, enamoured by his cuteness.

“You did, baby?” You don’t pause for long enough for him to answer. “Is that surprise that you’re my needy little slut, because I could have told you that already.” You let your hand travel down his spine, fingertips barely brushing his skin and he shivers, half rinsed plate forgotten. You’re getting impatient and you can tell Mingyu is already starting to bend to your touch. “Turn off the water.” You instruct. He does as you said and leaves the plate to the side.

You turn him around and notice his hardening cock is already visible through the apron, protruding under the pink fabric. You smirk at how easy he is; all it takes is a few light touches and a few filthy words and he’s already gone. He stares at you, expectantly, waiting for your next move.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” You ask him. He swallows down his timidness for a second.

“I want- want you to touch me, please.” His eyes are practically begging you already and you smile, happy at hearing the words fall from his lips.

“That I can do, let’s go, darling.” You take his hand and lead him off.

In your bedroom, you make Mingyu stand in front of the full-length mirror you got recently, and you admire how mesmerised he becomes in front of it. The idea you’d had in a split second seemed perfect indeed.

“Why don’t we get rid of this first, my little housewife?” You whisper and Mingyu nods as you start to undo the knot of the apron behind his neck. You let the fabric fall forward and expose the soft skin of his chest and his abs. You let your fingers wander teasingly down his back to reach for the second knot of the apron and you undo the little bow. It was like opening a present, the fabric sliding off his skin and hitting the floor.

You stare at Mingyu’s glorious reflection in the mirror, the soft lines of his muscles, the curve of his biceps, and the way his hard cock stands to attention to his abdomen. You place a chaste kiss on his shoulder as you admire him. He’s blushing impossibly harder as you watch him squirm under your intense gaze.

“Look how pretty you are,” you coo, keeping a warm hand on the back of his neck. “Aren’t you my pretty boy?” You hum. He can only blink at your reflection. “I can’t hear you, baby boy.” You press.

“I-I’m your pretty boy.” He breathes out, chest rising and falling with his words. You use the hand resting on the back of his neck to guide him so you can kiss him, the mirror forgotten for a moment. The kiss is tender but brimming with the promise of what’s to come. You deepen it, dragging Mingyu to your level and he melts, so malleable in your hands. You feel his cock between your bodies and you reach down to smear at the precum that’s collected at his tip. You don’t predict the loud moan that Mingyu lets out at the touch, and he breaks the kiss, gasping at the way you handle him.

“Please, p-please let me come.” He whimpers as you jerk him off momentarily.

“Of course I will, darling.” You kiss him again then give his cock a squeeze and let go. He whines at the loss of contact, eyes wide and searching. “I didn’t say when, baby.” You smile at the tiny pout that graces his lips. Instead you lead him over to the bed immediately behind you, sitting down on the edge. He gets on his knees in front of you without being told and you pat his head.

“Stay,” you say quietly. You move swiftly, walking over to a drawer and rummage through for some things you wanted. You take the items and return to your spot on the bed with Mingyu looks up curiously at you. “Why don’t you hop on over my lap, sweetheart?”

It takes a split second until Mingyu is trying to lay across your lap and you shift to accommodate his size, sitting a little further back. You feel the hardness of his cock pressing between your bodies and you think he might just come from all this.

“When you wore that little apron, I think you were trying to tell me something, is that right?” You ask, fingers stroking his hair gently. Mingyu nods, too shy to speak but you land a slap on his ass and he groans. Bingo. “Is this what you wanted? Walking around like a little whore, showing off your pretty ass for me, waiting for me to spank you silly?” You murmur, voice low and gravelly.

“Y-yes, fuck, please, more!” He begs, hips rutting against your thighs. So you oblige him, landing another slap, and another and he’s whining and grinding his cock against your lap.

“Baby, you aren’t going to come just from getting your ass slapped a few times, are you?” You ask him, voice taunting but gentle. You massage the sore spots. “Do you want me to play with your tight little hole too, pretty boy?” You land another slap when you think he least expects it. And he’s nodding, pathetic whimper escaping his lips and you think he’s ready to start sobbing with need.

“I want that, I want you to play with my hole, please, touch me…” he trails off, the words coming out strained and breathy. You loved making a mess of him, he was just so cute when he begged.

“Of course, baby, hold on for me.” You reach over to the items beside you; a bottle of lube, a dildo and a butt plug, one of those pretty ones with the little gem on the base. You lube up the butt plug, letting some of the cold liquid drip on Mingyu’s skin and he inhales sharply at the sudden sensation but relaxes when he realises what you’re doing.

You let your sticky fingers wander down to his waiting hole, circling it teasingly and he whines again, the vibration from his chest bouncing off your thigh.

“Look at you, so desperate for me, darling.” You circle back again over his hole. “I’m going to finger you open now, baby, you ready?” You ask him.

“Yes, p-please, just touch me…” he mumbles, burying his face in his arms. You dip your lubed up fingers experimentally, shallowly and leisurely pumping slowly and then going deeper and deeper. Mingyu’s quiet moans get louder and then he’s bucking his hips, trying to keep up with your rhythm.

“My pathetic baby boy.” You whisper, bringing your mouth closer to his ear. “Do you like it when I fuck you open like that?” And you swear nothing remotely coherently comes out of his mouth as he groans loudly into his arms. You chuckle to yourself, continuing to finger him but slowly easing out. You pull your fingers away and replace them with the butt plug at his entrance. “Were you close darling?” You muse as you let the slick metal rest again him.

Mingyu hums in approval and you let him off this one time.

“I’m going to let you wear a pretty little butt plug, can you do that without coming for me, baby?” And this time he nods, but you’re not sure he understood so you press him. “Words, ‘Gyu.”

A breathy ‘yeah’ is all your get from him, which seems more than he’s capable of right now, so you slide in the toy and watch as he squirms and wriggles on top of you, as if he’s trying to fuck himself on it.

“Good boy, now get up.” You praise and slap his ass for good measure. The unexpected contact jolts him and you hear a loud whine, no longer muffled in his arms as he starts to stand up.

You stand up with him and guide him to stand in front of the mirror again. Mingyu’s breathing shallowly, trying not to moan as he takes the three steps towards it and he looks up without being told. The image is divine in your eyes; there’s a dark blush colouring his cheeks, almost matching the needy red of his leaking cock, and his eyes are glassy, filled with tears you think as you stand next to him and watch his chest rising and falling with each breath.

“My god, what a precious darling you are, can’t even see straight now your hole’s filled.” You taunt him softly. You think Mingyu could come just from your words alone but you decide to give him some relief.

You position yourself to his side, bringing his arm around you for support, in case his legs turn to jelly, and reach towards his cock. As soon as your sticky hand makes contact with his skin, his eyes roll to the back of his head. You give him ten seconds tops before he’s spilling. You start to pump his cock carefully, not fast enough to work him up but not slowly enough to tease him.

You bask in his beautiful sounds, a symphony of moans, whines and whimpers as you steadily jerk him off again while his half-closed eyes follow your movements in the mirror and you feel him twitching in your hand and he’s positively mewling and the sound shoots a lightning bolt of pleasure through you, the sound and image overwhelming you.

“I-I’m so close, I’m g-going to com-” and you don’t let him, as you move your hand off his cock immediately and Mingyu almost wails in devastation screwing his eyes shut. “Please!”

“Shh, it’s okay, you did so well for me, sweetheart, just a little more.” You coo at him, brushing the stray hairs over his forehead, where a thin sheen of sweat has accumulated. He’s panting, cock left hanging and you think he’s going to cry. Just as you’d predicted, he didn’t seem to be able to stand upright anymore so you let him step back towards the bed. Clearly the sensation of the butt plug rubbing against him is too much and he lets himself plop down on his back, legs hanging off the bed.

You smile at how desperate he is and you decide to take pity on him. He doesn’t say anything while you shuffle around, lubing up the dildo you’d taken out of the drawer earlier. Mingyu’s ears perk up at the sound of the bottle opening and closing and he slowly raises himself up on his elbows, curiosity overriding his stolen orgasm. He sees you fiddling with the toy and he groans, melting into the sheets again.

“That’s right baby, you’ve been so good, I’m going to reward you.” You kneel between his legs, spreading them open, placing a kiss to his inner thigh and find yourself admiring the shiny pink gem of the butt plug. You’d known it was the right one to get, the colour totally right for Mingyu. “I’m going to fuck your little hole and let you come this time, would like that, darling?” You say as your fingers start to pull away the toy gently.

“Y-yes, oh my god, please just let me come…” he half mumbles, half moans as you extract the toy.

You bring the dildo to his waiting hole, easing the toy in and Mingyu’s loud moan pierces the silence of your bedroom. Clearly, he’d been trying to hold back until now and you huff, annoyed he was keeping his pretty sounds to himself. You start to move the toy, pumping in and out steadily. Mingyu’s cock bounces slightly as his body starts to move with your movements, trying to fuck himself on the toy.

“You have such a big cock,” you remark, watching as it twitches against his abs. “Shame you don’t know how to use it properly, puppy, so I have to fuck you instead.” You watch as Mingyu’s face scrunches in pleasure, and you wish he wasn’t so fucked out that he couldn’t watch himself. “Are you almost there, angel?” You ask him, creeping your free hand up his thighs and up to his cock.

“Hmm, y-yeah, so close, please, please, please.” He moans openly again, the sound getting strangled in his throat. You finally bring your hand over his cock and start pumping him quickly as you fuck his hole faster and faster. Mingyu’s almost screaming as his cock twitches once, twice and finally erupts, strings of white cum colouring his abs, thighs and your hand. His body is shuddering as you continue fucking him through his orgasm, slowing down your pace and helping him ride it out.

You pull the toy out gently and reach over to grab a tissue from the table behind you. You sit next to Mingyu on the bed and pull him to you slightly to clean up some of the mess.

“Shh, you were so good for me, honey, so good. You did so well, my angel.” You coo at him, running your clean hand over his face, caressing his cheek lovingly. Mingyu can barely open his eyes but his hands come to grab onto your forearms, pulling you closer to him and you let him, coming to lie down next to him and hold him, his head on your chest, clinging onto you and trying to make himself impossibly smaller.

***

#seventeen #kim mingyu #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #kim mingyu scenarios #seventeen smut #kim mingyu smut #kim mingyu imagines #seventeen x reader #kim mingyu x reader #sub!seventeen #sub!mingyu #sub!idol #momobani.writes

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writefasttalkevenfaster · 3 years

Text

Dancing With Our Hands Tied (Part Two)

Series: Undercover Hotch fic/series™

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Word Count: 4,408 | Rated: T | Warnings: swearing, discussion of domestic abuse, possibly compromising positions(?), an almost kiss

Tropes: bedsharing, fake married, mutual pining

Chapter Summary: after holding hotch's hand for a few minutes, it wouldn't be a problem to hold it for most of the morning? because now the retreat gimmicks begin as the two of you search for information while dealing with the events.

A/N: sorry for the delay on part two -- had some family things going on this month <3. look out for part three :) Thank you to @bucky-of-the-opera for always letting me bounce ideas off of her and generally being amazing.

“Where do we start?”

The retreat lodge was larger than you imagined — with sprawling grounds that weren't just limited to the main lodging area where the couples stayed — but extended beyond to woods, hiking trails, and beyond. Hell, you glanced out the window at a nearby mountain, you wouldn’t be surprised if they owned a mountain as well.

“I have no idea,” you murmur, your arm intertwined with Hotch’s, as the two of you stepped into the lobby for the patented mix-and-mingle with the other couples before breakfast. Not only mind-numbing, soul-churning mingling — but with other couples with marital issues -- exactly what every vacation needs, “this place doesn’t seem big on technology — I haven’t seen a single computer or cellphone,”

“The front desk only has paper logs,” he shakes his head, “I asked about the lack of technology in the rooms. A noted policy of no tech — including the employees. I don’t think we are even allowed our cellphones after this breakfast.”

You scan the couples beginning to shuffle down now, “If there’s no tech here, where do you think they keep their guest and employee files?”

“I don’t think breakfast is ready yet, sweetheart,” he replies, as your gaze snaps to his cheeks burning, as you realize a couple approaching your six, “but I’m sure you won’t have to wait too much longer,”

“I’m right there with you,” the husband winks at you, his stomach shaking as he laughs even before he jokes, “if I don’t eat soon, I’m going to lose one of my only reasons for coming to this place,”

And something tells you it isn’t much of a joke either.

“But not the reason for coming here, isn’t that right, dear?” his wife assumedly smiles at you, icily, “Molly Chapman. It’s a pleasure to meet you, and you are?”

You introduce yourself, forcing a straight face on as you manage to say your alias, offering your hand, “This is my husband, Thomas,” as Hotch introduces himself to Molly’s husband, Harry, who claps your boss on the shoulder.

“So,” Harry leans in, almost clandestinely, “what are you two in for?”

“Harry!” Molly chastises him, but her eyes hook onto your expressions, her lips pursed in disapproval if only to hide her smile.

“Well, if it helps, me and the missus here need some help communicating,” he crosses his arms, shaking his head, “never learned much about that growing up,” and he elbows Hotch, “but I’m sure you can relate — we’re practically in the same generation,” And you nearly snort, trying and failing to hide your smile — which Hotch notes, as you see him shoot a small glare your way.

Harry and Molly don’t notice, too busy reprimanding her husband again, before she sighs, pinching at the bridge of her nose, “It’s just as well, we are all going to find out about each other’s problems anyway,”

And you furrow your brow, “I saw group therapy on the itinerary — is it mandatory?”

“It is,” Molly nods, “Dr. Rosen, the therapist who helped design the program, insisted on it — otherwise it would just be a vacation, not a couples retreat,” and she raises an eyebrow, “didn’t you read that in the paperwork when you signed up?”

“I did most of the paperwork,” Hotch intercedes, his fingers intertwining with yours, “my love here was busy wrapping up some loose ends for work so I ended up taking the lead on it,”

“Oh well now I know what’s wrong with you two,” Harry chuckles, as Molly elbows him again, half-heartedly, as he gestures to you, coffee in hand, “you wear the pants in the relationship, got that one wrapped around your finger, now don’t you? Not surprising, with the age gap and all--” as he looks you up and down, winking at Hotch, as you gape at him, “nicely done, sir.”

Your blood begins to boil, several insults picked out and fine-tuned on your tongue as you open your mouth, “Well—”

“We’re working on it,” Hotch clears his throat, jerking his head toward the now ready breakfast buffet, “Harry, it looks like—”

“Food’s on!” and he’s scurrying away to the table, as his wife follows suit, giving both of you a nod, as you glare at his retreating back.

“Food fucking saved his life,” and your eyes slide back to Hotch, as he gestures for you to head over to the breakfast table, “and so did you,”

“Well, I figured you murdering someone on our first day here would attract some unwelcome attention,” he steers you away from the direction of the Chapmans, his hand now slipping around your waist, and you do your best to ignore the flip of your heart, focusing on the fancy finger foods the retreat put out for breakfast, until you feel Hotch’s fingers drum on the small of your back, “do you see that?”

You glance at him, following his gaze until your eyes fall on a door that says ‘Employees’ Only’ around the corner, the manager slipping through the door, locking it behind him. You glance away nonchalantly, helping yourself to some mini-breakfast sandwiches and some fruit, “Do you think they keep the employee files?”

“Maybe,” he breathes in your ear, as he reaches over your shoulder to grab some food, making you shiver at the closeness, “but how do we—”

“Welcome!” a voice booms from the foyer, sweeping arms as he steps forward cutting through the dining room, “Please everyone take a seat. Help yourself to some breakfast.”

You both make your way to a table, and Hotch pulls out your chair for you, giving a small smile, as he takes his seat beside you.

“I hope you all are beginning to get to know each other, but that is not all you will be getting to know today,” he clasps his hands, he bared his teeth with his fake white smile, “I am Richard Rosen, and I will be guiding you through your time during this six-week retreat, where you are not only going to learn about our facilities, about mindfulness, and about yourselves,” his eyes scan the crowd smiling, “you’re going to learn about each other.'

Oh, how wonderful.

You had read up about this guy last night — went to Harvard — Harvard College in Indiana, and got his certification in Psychology after four weeks of surely intense training. After that, he opened his own practice in New York City, which folded after several complaints ranging from sexual harassment to fraud. Unfortunately for his clients (and fortunately for him), there wasn’t enough evidence to get his lack-luster certification yanked. He then moved from city to city, learning from his mistakes, and never stuck to the same city for long enough for someone to catch onto his treatment packaged charade. Until eventually, he settled upon White Mountains Retreat, where he was allowed to stay in one place, but with a revolving door of patients.

He was one of your suspects — no record, but had easy access to the couples, and intimate knowledge of their relationships.

"But our time will begin together tomorrow,” he beams at all of you, “Right now, I'm going to pass it over to the man who you will be coordinating your incredibly list of daily activities during your stay here — the man responsible for all the wonderful memories you will make — Mr. Brock Hillen," Rosen steps aside, welcoming Hillen to take over, and he doesn’t wait a beat, checking his watch before disappearing down a hall.

“Where’d he go?” you murmur, and Hotch shakes his head.

“I don’t know,” Hotch murmurs, lips barely moving, “but do you see that?”

And you spot cuts on Brock’s arms before he tugs the sleeve of his shirt down to cover it, “Could be consistent with causing those injuries our victims,”

And Brock Hillen was no less suspicious than Rosen — with a criminal record to match. With two charges of domestic assault, Hillen already had a history of violence with his ex-wife, but since she divorced him, he has had no other charges. Yet, because of his record, he went job to job, until he found himself as the Activities Coordinator of White Mountain. Could it be that his rage over his wife leaving him led to the murders? Maybe something in the last few weeks that triggered it.

“Hello all!” he greets, holding his arms out, his fake blonde hair nearly blinding under the bright light of the chandelier that hangs above him, “thank you Richard, for that all too kind introduction,” he begins his spheal on the healing nature of the resort, the efforts of his team in coordinating the next six weeks for them, and you begin to lose interest around his third sentence with the word “enchant” in it.

And your eyes can’t help but slide to Hotch a moment, whose arm rests on your lower back still, the metal of his watch gently pressed against your shirt, and you swear his thumb brushes against your spine. You almost want to brush it away, his touch is so gentle, so sweet, so intentional, but it wasn’t — it wasn’t.

“For our first event,” and now you’re blinking back to Brock — to the reason you were here — to catch a killer, “I’m going to have you do one of the very things that Richard mentioned — an activity that will allow you to you learn more about yourselves and each other,” and he gestures around you, “as well as the grounds themselves,” Other employees start handing the couples a clipboard, “your task will be to get each of your stamps from around the retreat — this obviously includes our grounds and other facilities, including our spa, chapel, gardens, and so on.”

“Seems like a perfect opportunity to look around,” you murmur — as Hotch takes the clipboard, flipping through the scavenger hunt -- at least there wasn’t some cheesy shtick to this activity.

“To symbolize the journey you all will be embarking on together as couples, you must complete the task hand-in-hand,” Brock brings his two hands together, “please, there will be staff all over the facilities, if you need a hint, feel free to ask, and I will be here as well to provide any assistance,” he gestures to employees behind the couples, “now, at the sound of the gong—”

At the sound of the what—

And then a loud crash fills the air, rattling your eardrums, making you jump, “Take each other’s hand, and begin!”

Couples begin scattering about, pulling each other along — you spot Molly dragging Harry away from the breakfast table.

And Hotch rises beside you, offering you his hand, clipboard in his other hand, “Ready?”

You glance from him to his hand.

Probably not, but— your fingers intertwine with his, his calloused fingers warm, and the cool metal of his band brushing against your skin—

“Ready.”

What other choice did you have?

~~~

“How many more do we have?” So far, the first few stamps have taken you all around the other facilities — the spa, the garden, the sauna — but none inside the retreat center itself. Not a single one had given you a change to find where the files were kept in this place.

“Two more left,” he murmurs, “I assume the last one will take us back into the main building, so the other must be—”

“At the chapel,” you glance at the map of the place you were handed by an employee who took pity on you two after you had wandered around the grounds — completely lost, “at least we don’t have to bother figuring out the riddles now,”

“You mean you don’t need to bother,” you shake your head, “i’m sorry, I’m just—”

“Are you okay?” he asks, as the two of you stroll towards the chapel, everyone else out of earshot, “the first day can be—”

“No, it’s not that,” you look around the grounds, and you resist the urge to flex your fingers, but he notices you tense — and you know he would drop your hand but he can’t, so he steps away a little, “It’s not you—”

“But it’s you?” he chuckles, as you bite your lip, “I know it’s a lot,” he sighs, as you two reach the chapel, a relatively small building built on top of a hill. It’s a white marble building, its one spire splitting the sky above it asunder, practically gleaming in the sunlight. The double mahogany doors are drawn open for the couples, another just leaving as you two arrive. You watch him stare up at the chapel, “it is for me too.”

You frown, as the employees at the entrance greet you, and direct you to sit near the front together for a few minutes — to take solace in the quiet before you receive your stamp. Hotch hands them the clipboard as you both wander down the aisle together.

The aisles are lined with white pews, light streaming through beautiful stained glass windows. Your footsteps echoed against the stone floor. You step and sit into the pew beside Hotch, sitting back a moment. The chapel itself had no denomination — it was clear it was made for the sake of religious and non-religious functions — likely an intentional choice not to exclude any religion or atheists for that matter.

After all, money was money in their eyes.

You two are quiet a moment, your hands still interlaced for the sake of the employees still watching the two of you, “I think for me,” your voice low, “it’s just weird to be this close with anyone,”

“You mean physically or?” you shrug.

“It’s part of it — it has been a while since I’ve shared a bed with someone,” you purse your lips, “but like you said, it’s hard for me to let someone see me, like all of me,” and you glance at him, “and it’s hard when you’re literally the leader of a team of, you know.”

“I know,” he leans against the back of the pew, “it’s impossible to hide things from the team even when when we don’t spend every minute with them, and now that we’re spending the all of the next six weeks together--”

“There won’t be much we can do to hide,” you nod, looking down at the floor.

And that was what scared you the most.

The employees hand you back the clipboard at that moment, excusing you both back, and the two of you step out of the chapel, “I just want you to know,” you say, as the two of you reach the bottom of the hill, “you don’t have to hide anything from me,” and he raises an eyebrow, as you add, “if you don’t want to.”

“Do most people hide anything because they really want to?”

“No I meant,” you chew your lip, “This is probably hard for you, and I don’t want to act like I know what you’re going through — I don’t,” you would never deign to think you knew what it was like to lose your the love of your life, your best friend, and mother of your child in one fell swoop, “but you don’t have to pretend,” not with me, you want to add, but you don’t — you can’t.

He blinks a moment, eyebrows raising only for a millisecond, before he sighs, “It’s easier to pretend,” he presses his lips together, as another couple approaches, “and that’s what we’re here to do,” and he begins to walk forward, gently pulling you along, as your cheeks burn, your head fixed on the ground, until he adds, “but I appreciate it,” and you meet his gaze, several emotions in his eyes, before he tears it away, “thank you.”

You don’t get to respond, as the two of you step inside to find only most of the couples still hadn’t returned yet — still collecting the last of the stamps, and most of the staff floating around the grounds to corral and nudge stragglers along. And their absence left an opportunity.

So you glance around, before tugging a distracted Hotch along, wandering around a corner, “What—”

And you grab him by the shoulder, pinning him to the wall, cheeks burning all the while, not daring to meet his gaze, but its just the same because you hear the small gasp of your name that leaves his lips in a whisper, and his body tenses against your palm.

You lean up closer, before slowly craning your neck around the corner, “We’re a couple at a retreat looking to sneak away,” you murmur, lips barely moving, as you lean closer, nose brushing his neck — god he smells good — but you refuse to let your lips brush against his skin, “or that’s what it will look like to anyone.”

His tenseness melts away, and he’s pliable to your touch, as your fingers graze his neck now, your thumb resting against his cheek, as he stares down at you — so adoringly as you tug him by the shirt away from the wall, following you with such ease.

You’re next to the employees only door — your fingers reach for the knob, turning — “It’s locked,” you murmur, and his brow furrows, as you cup his cheek, guiding his gaze to the lock.

And he’s spinning you around gently so that you’re pressed to the wall, your breath catching in your throat, as he looms over you, his fingers cupping your chin. His arm around your back, pulling your lower half close to him, but he’s holding the door knob in place while he tries to pick it with his other hand.

Your cheeks burn as he looks down on you, his gaze freezing you in place, far too close — his breath warming your lips, taking the breath from your lungs and replacing your blood with lava. And you can see so clearly — the cut of his jaw, the soft lines of his face, and the curve of his lips—

And then the lock clicks open.

He’s turning the knob, as you spare one glance over your shoulder to see if anyone sees either of you, but then the door is shutting behind you. You feel the wall for a light switch, and you flick it on, while you hear the click of the door locking again.

And you blink, a glorified break room — a few tables and a basic refrigerator stuck in the corner, a worn couch stuck against a wall, and a sink stuck in the corner with a subpar dish rack — far from the accolades that were in each guest’s room — but then again, the employees weren’t paying through the nose for the rooms.

You two stay close, as your eyes scan for anything that could be a camera — even one that isn’t obvious — placed in a smoke detector or lamp shade, “No cameras,” he pulls away, and you try to swallow the lump in your throat, tucking away the embarrassment to dwell on another time (likely right before when you’re trying to sleep).

But then again, the guests weren’t the ones working 18 hour shifts on their feet.

Hotch calls for you, pointing towards a few file drawers stuck in the corner, and the two of you head over, running your finger down the label on the drawers, “These are all client records — administrative, financial — nothing on the employees.”

“They must keep the employee records somewhere else that employees don’t have access to,” and you’re rifling through the folders, for something — anything.

“I haven’t seen any other employee areas,” you shut the drawers, and then you glance around, your eyes falling on another door in the corner of the room — “unless—”

“It must be Rosen and Hillen’s offices,” you walk over, reading the placard — Administration Offices, “locked?”

“This isn’t something that can be picked easily,” Hotch shakes his head, “it has a bump guard — it prevents—”

“--lock bumping,” and Hotch looks over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow, “I’ll tell you my reason if you you tell me yours,

He snorts, “I learned it sometime between 6th grade and military school,” and it’s your turn to raise your eyebrows, “my father — he—”

“You don’t have to—” you shake your head, “unless you want to—”

“I’ll just say, it wasn’t a good childhood,” he raises to his feet.

And you can’t help but give a small smile, “But look at how well you turned out,” and he’s shaking his head, shrugging his shoulders, “Hotch,” you make him meet your gaze, “you’re a good man — don’t doubt that.”

His eyes meet yours again, warm, as he looks away to the floor for a moment, the corners of his lips twitching, “Thank you,” he breathes, and he’s stepping forward, “I—”

And then the doorknob is jiggling. Your heads snap to the door, before looking back to each other.

Shit.

Before you know it, his wrist is around yours, and he’s tugging you to the couch, as you fall backwards onto the soft cushions. He’s halfway kneeling between your legs, his body draped over you, and he’s leaning closer, murmuring an apology as he lips draw close to yours, “Hotch—”

And then the door is opening, as his lips nearly brush yours, “Hey!”

An employee stares at the both of you, as you both stumble to your feet, adjusting your clothes, “This is employees only — what are you—”

“Sorry!” you yelp, jumping to your feet, “so sorry,” and you brush past them, Hotch following at your heels.

And the two of you find your way back to the lobby, your heart still in your throat, as you tug on your clothes, “Thanks for the —” your cheeks burn, “I mean, good thinking—” you shake your head, "you know what I mean."

He snorts, his fingers finding yours again, giving them a slight squeeze, "Anytime," and your heart oh-so-helpfully skips a beat, tongue-tied, but luckily you don't have to response as Hotch glances at you, "you never did tell me how you learned about lock picking."

You shrug, “I have a checkered past,”

“That’s not much of an answer,” and you shoot him a half-smile.

“I have to keep you interested somehow don’t I?” you reply right as Brock begins to speak again.

The event wraps up with another talk from Brock — who has an employee approach him towards the end of his talk, whispering in his ear, and he nods, waving him off, “and one last thing — I know you all came to rejuvenate your marriages and partnerships through this retreat and we fully encourage you to do so but—” you swallow thickly, realizing just which employee must have whispered in his ear right then, “please refrain from doing so in restricted areas that are not for our guests.”

You cannot even bear to look at Hotch, keeping your gaze straight ahead, grabbing a drink on the tray, and sipping at it — and you wondered if you were masking your mortification well.

Probably fucking not.

~~~

Brock then adjourns them for the rest of the day — not wanting to “overwhelm them” on day one (or rather padding their time here with nothingness) — welcoming them to have their meal in the dining facilities or up in the rooms.

Most people head off to their rooms, while others linger in the lobby — chatting amongst themselves — he spots Harry rushing off to the dining facilities, his wife in tow.

The rest of the day goes off without much to-do. Hotch glances around — not a single thing of note learned about the guests or the staff. The other couples are all sociable to some extent — some more reserved than others, but none of them fit the unsub’s types so far — placing you two directly in the paths of the unsub.

By the time it’s time for bed, his body is aching for nothing but sleep — and it looked like you had the same idea. Already slipped under the covers, you’re curled up, half-asleep as your eyes flutter heavy with sleep.

Neither of you felt the need to stand guard in the room — the doors were securely locked for each of the couples, and the team was monitoring the situation at the local precinct. But you both kept your weapons close by — concealed in case someone happened to find their way in.

“Are you asleep?” Hotch whispers, and you mumble, shaking your head, turning to glance at him — your shoulders tense and brow furrowed.

“Is something going on?”

And he shakes his head, “No, sorry,” and you relax back in bed, but your lips still pursed, “I just hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable earlier,” and you tilt your head — and he almost smiles at your sleep-induced confusion.

“Earlier?” and then it floods back to you — as you blink, glancing away from him, “oh—”

He shakes his head, “I just don’t want you to think I was—”

“Hotch, I know you weren’t,” you slowly sit up, “if you hadn’t done that, I think we would have been on our way home on our first day,” you chuckle, “and I know you wouldn’t take advantage — especially when we have a job to do.”

Right, a job, he chides himself, It was a job.

“If you want to sleep—”

“I’m not having this conversation again,” you yawn, turning around and getting comfortable again, “good night, Hotch.”

And he looks at you, a small sigh parting his lips — until he finally settles in bed beside you.

His arm resting across his forehead, he glances at you again. He had spent so much of today holding your hand, his fingers nearly flexing at the memory. It had been so long since he had held someone’s hand, so long since he had worn a ring on his finger, so long since he called someone his partner.

It felt so nice.

Nice — not only because he hadn’t realized how much he had missed having someone, someone beside him, someone there — but because —

Because it was you.

And he knew that because — he didn’t want to let go of your hand.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagines #criminal minds #criminal minds imagines #hotch imagines #hotch #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch fanfiction #fic: undercover

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uncpanda · 3 years

Text

Flirting

AN: An AU where Foyett doesn’t go after Hotch’s family, and Hotch and Haley both get to move on into new relationships.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner X GN!Reader

“Has anyone else noticed that since the divorce, everywhere we go, women are flirting with Hotch?” You choke on your water at Derek’s question, and Spencer has to bang on your back to help clear your airway.

Everyone’s eyes are on you, and with a final cough you say, “Out of everything I could have anticipated coming out of your mouth, that was nowhere on the list.”

Derek shrugs, “It’s true. Cece in the Matloff case, Kate in New York.”

“They liaised.” Emily pipes in and Derek grins while Spencer’s brow furrows.

Derek grins and lists several more recent examples.

“Enough.” Rossi’s face says to grow up but his eyes speak to mischief, “Please tell me you all don’t analyze my love life like this.”

You grin, “We don’t have that much time Dave. We have jobs and friends and families.”

He swats you lightly on the head with a casefile, “Watch it smartass.”

“Anyways, Dave is right.”

“I may be right, but that wasn’t my point. I just wanted to be involved.”

You roll your eyes and listen as the team shifts from talking about women flirting with Hotch to setting him up on a dating website. It’s been over a year since the divorce, and you know for a fact that Haley is dating someone. So did the rest of the team. He seemed fine to you. He had said very nice things about the guy.

You keep your opinions to yourself, and turn back to your paperwork. Your nose is buried in a file when you feel him approach, right as Emily says something about him needing to get laid. You smirk when Hotch clears his throat and the team scatters to the wind.

When he turns to look at you, you don’t look back. Instead you hunch over farther. A second later you feel a hand apply a light pressure in between your shoulder blades, forcing you to straighten.

You look up and find the hand connected to Hotch, “You’re going to hurt your back.”

You sit up, “I was trying to distance myself from the gossip.”

“I appreciate that.”

His fingers trail lightly down your back, and you can barely repress the shiver that goes down your spine. You shoot him a look and see the small grin hidden there. You roll your eyes as he heads back up to his office.

You bug out on time for once, and get home fairly easy. You start dinner, and play some light music in the background. You’re tossing the salad when you hear the door open. Footsteps trek across the apartment, his bag lands on his desk, his keys next to it. From there you know he’ll shirk his jacket, take off his tie, and roll up the sleeves of his shirt.

Butterflies roll through your stomach, because you know what happens next. Sure enough a minute later strong arms wrap around your middle, and lips are pressed to the crook of your neck. He nibbles a little bit before saying, “I can’t believe you managed to keep a straight face.”

“I’ve been doing it for six months now.”

He straightens, and his hands move to your hips while his chin rests on the top of your head, “Was Dave any help.”

“No! He just edges them on.”

“We could just come out and tell them. Haley knows.”

You roll your eyes, “Haley is the mother of your son. She needs to know who he’s spending time with. You were the same way when she started dating Bryan.”

He snorts, “But I don’t go out on a monthly boy’s night with him, now do I?”

You bat your lashes at him, “Maybe if you asked nicely?”

His fingers glide across your ribs and you squeal as the tickling starts, and he hauls you away from the stove. You call mercy a minute later, and he kisses you. “Me and Haley being friends doesn’t bother you, does it?”

You’d come into the BAU about six months after Aaron’s divorce and hadn’t met Haley until you and Aaron started dating. The two of you shared a lot of interests and a friendship had developed as a result.

“Not at all. It’s nice that there’s no strife there, that we all just get along.”

You stretch up and kiss him, and he grins into it, “We are going to have to tell the team, you know. Strauss and Dave have known since we filed the paperwork but. . .”

You cut him off with another kiss, and when you pull back you say, “They’re profilers. If they don’t figure it out in the next six months, you may need to fire them.” Aaron just laughs, thoroughly content and happy.

#aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner reader insert #aaron hotchner imagine #hotch #criminal minds #criminal minds reader insert #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #cm fanfic #cm reader insert

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wreckmetoji · 3 years

Text

idfc

An ongoing fic in which you don't realize you have both Fushiguros at your feet.

↳ Toji Fushiguro/Reader Part 2/?

Part 1 , Part 3 , Part 4

content warning. shameless smut, profanity, size kink, age gap, afab reader, fingering, squirting This is part two of a several part story revolving around smut. **Minors DNI**

Length 1.7k words

The predatory grin that split his face made you surge with fear and delight, watching his scar pull taught in the most deliciously tantalizing way. "Why don't I show you?"

His eyes were sharp, and you could tell he was aware of every subtle shift, every tense of your muscles. Knowing that, the way you parted your thighs for him ever so slightly seemed to be enough of a response. You squeaked, effortlessly being lifted from your seat and placed on the cool countertop, the legs of the chair scraping against hardwood flooring. Even with the sudden change of position, Toji was nearly half a head taller than you at his full height. You briefly wondered if that reflected anywhere else on his body... Strong hips pushed between your thighs, leaving little room for imagination as his muscle hardened body pressed up against your front, lush green eyes grazing your lips, down to your breasts, then back up to catch your own gaze. Your mind was spinning a mile a minute, he was so close you could smell the mint on his breath poorly covering up the cigarette he had on his drive over. "Do you mind, princess?" Toji took your chin in a firm grip between his thumb and forefinger, tauntingly wagging your shock-slackened face. His thumb that was previously purchased only an inch lower stroked your bottom lip. Your head was so foggy you almost missed the question, shamelessly shaking your head quickly when you realized he was speaking to you. He wasn't as rough as you expected him to be when he kissed you. You had expected brute force, and although there was force, there was a kind of gentleness to it, like he was trying to coax something out of you. It didn't take much for you to give in to his subtle request, tongues brushing gently, eliciting an excited shiver down your spine. You hadn't noticed your white-knuckle grip on the countertop under you until Toji brought the fingers gripping your chin to your wrist, guiding your hand dangerously low on his black clad torso. He parted from you, close enough to feel your stuttered breaths, but far enough to take in your flustered appearance. "You're actin' like you're expecting me to rip a chunk out of you," Toji gibed, letting go of your wrist and setting both hands low on your hips. "I wouldn't unless you asked me to, you can loosen up sweetheart." "Well I can't exactly say I've prepared to be in this situation." "Mm, but you've thought about it, haven't you? Dirty girl." It was more of a statement than a question, he saw straight through your well behaved facade. You swallowed the words caught in your throat, unable to deny it. Toji didn't seem to want a response, like he knew the answer already, and dove back in for another kiss. This was was more what you were expecting, it made your head spin. Your hand moved slowly, feeling every ridge underneath the stretched out fabric as it traveled up, making home on his broad shoulder. Your other hand quickly found his upper bicep, feeling the muscles flex when he gave your hips a squeeze. What you hadn't expected was his sudden display of strength, one arm lifting you from the counter while the other all but ripped your shorts from your legs. Quickly parting from Toji, you look at him in awe.

"I'd like to be gentle, but seeing you so messed up this morning... got me thinking how fuckin' wrecked you’ll look when I'm done with you." He spoke low, eyes peeking through black strands dangerously.

"Is that a promise, or a threat?" "All depends on you, sweetheart." With no more words exchanged, Toji took quick strides and carried you over to the couch, dropping you down with a little less grace than you had desired. You let out a quick exhale, barely being able to recover the breath you lost when he immediately climbed on top of you and dove back in for a bruising kiss. Using one hand to hold himself up, Toji used the other to run up your thigh, trace the hem of your underwear, deliberately avoiding the ache between your thighs that was desperately needing attention. It continued upwards, bringing your shirt up with it, stopping only once it was pulled over your now exposed bust. Amidst the languid strokes of his tongue against your own, you felt a low hum of approval that reverberated through you and shot straight to the growing heat between your legs. "Nothing underneath? It's like you were waiting for me," He whispered against your lips. "Why would I wear a bra in my own home? Don't flatter yourself, Mister Fushiguro." You quipped back, almost immediately regretting your words. The hand hiking your shirt up shot to your throat, holding it firmly enough to be uncomfortable, but not nearly tight enough to choke you. Your hands moved quickly to grab his arm, but his empty hand intercepted the intrusion and pinned them above your head. "Watch your mouth if you know whats good for you, doll." You felt ashamed his threat made your pussy throb. It subsided slightly when he removed his hand from your neck. To get his point across, Toji leaned down and bit down on your pulse point just below your jawline, dragging something between a gasp and whine from your throat. Tracing his slick tongue over the reddened skin, he moved down agonizingly slow, grazing over your bunched up shirt, and settling over one of your already hardened nipples. You could see the look on his face, smug, like he was saying already this excited? It didn't take him long to make quick work of his mouth, circling your nipple with his tongue before grazing his teeth over the perked bud, coaxing a whine from you. He didn't stay long, quickly moving to the other nipple and giving it a more thorough treatment. He used his skillful hands to pinch and roll the other, his fingers moving expertly to pull as much sound out of you as possible. His smirk against your skin didn't go unnoticed as he sucked your nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue and tugging gently with his teeth, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing how badly you needed him. Toji seemed to take your sudden silence as defiance, something even you knew he had zero tolerance for. Fingers abandoned toying with your pert nipple, tracing a line on your skin as he moved down to your underwear, pressing the pad of his middle finger against your surprisingly wet panties. Detaching himself from you and using the hand trapping your wrists, he pushed himself up to take a look at you. Toji whistled, now using both index and middle finger to give your clothed pussy languid strokes. "Already this wet, you dirty little thing? You've been waiting for this," He mused. You avoided eye contact, turning your head to look at the back of the couch, the pressure on your wrists releasing. You would ask him what he was doing if he hadn't gripped your cheeks in his hand, forcing you to look at him. "I want you to watch me fuck you with my fingers." His hands worked in time with his voice, yanking your underwear down one leg, leaving it dangle on your other ankle. There was no time to come up with a witty remark, your back arching as he plunged a thick finger in to the last knuckle, pumping at a steady pace. "I want you to look at me as you cum." Toji quickly added a second finger, your moans and whines growing quickly in pitch as he forced you to face him. His expression was unchanging, dark eyes blown with lust and mouth pulled into a firm line. You couldn't look away even if you wanted to. He scissored his fingers, stretching you out to make room for a third, and it was just as quickly added as the others. His skilled thumb came to your clit, rubbing in a quick, circular motion that had you seeing stars. It was too much stimulation all at once, and your expression was quick to change, mouth dropping open and eyes rolling back. "I wish I could take a picture of your pretty fuckin' face." Toji grinned. You felt your walls start to pulse, your legs tensing and shaking from the intensity of your upcoming orgasm. "T-Toji, it'sh too mush... I'm-!" You slurred your words, cheeks being squeezed tighter between his strong hand as he forced your face closer to his. "You can take it." He left no room for convincing. He didn't have to. "Cum for me." As your orgasm violently ripped through your entire body, you could have sworn your vision whited out for just a fraction of a second. You didn't realize you had screamed, your pussy seizing and pulsing around his fingers that were fucking you through your orgasm. He didn't seem to care that your eyes were rolled too far back in your head to be able to look at him while you came down from your high. "Goddamn princess, you're a squirter huh?" Toji removed his fingers from inside you, squishing your cheeks to garner your attention. "Look at the mess you made." "I've... never..." You whispered, chest heaving from the intensity. The way he licked between his fingers had your throbbing cunt silently begging for more. Once you caught your breath, you felt the slight ache already washing over your body. Toji didn't give you time to relax, immediately stripping himself of his shirt and untying the strings on his sweats. His body was something you'd only seen in your dreams, every muscle well defined, although littered with scars. When you made eye contact, he couldn't hold back his chortle at your bewildered expression. "Oh, sweetheart, did you think we were done?" He jeered, using one hand to shove his pants and boxers down to his knees, letting his incredibly heavy cock bounce free. It drooped under its sheer girth and size. You came to a quick conclusion that had he not prepared you how he did, there was no fucking way his dick would fit. "Doll, we're just getting started."

#toji fushiguro #toji smut #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x y/n #toji fushiguro smut #reader insert #jjk toji #jjk smut #minors do not interact #toji thirst #daddy toji #anime smut #anime x reader #bark bark woof grrr yknow what im sayin

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touyasdoll · 3 years

Note

Aizawa x Reader, a gift. — ℊ

You sobbed out as you came again, one orgasm right after the other due to your Master giving your tail a harsh yank right near the base as soon as he felt you reach a crescendo the first time cuming. This was the first time you were having sex with him and you knew you were done for. Sometimes, you were certain your Master had a cat quirk, too. Just a more passive one, at least until today when he had come up behind you, pinned you to the couch and bit the back of your neck until you slumped in submission.

Not that he had had to wait very long for you to submits only fighting back from the surprise of the action. You had learned early on that you weren’t one to take the reigns in the bedroom. You were so far from being a dominant person that you had begun to question yourself. It took two relationships fizzling out at your “lack of passion”, as one called it, and an accidental crashing of a fellow heroine’s “dungeon party” to figure it out.

But you did get it figured it out, all with your fellow heroines help. She had helpfully guided you as your first dom, taken you on herself that very night and the next few weeks as well, teaching you as much as having you experiment. She had laughed when you had told her about the passion comment in the aftermath of a session — mainly because she had just gotten through with having you on your hands and knees, begging to taste her, then begging to be used and taken before sucking off her strap on and being bent over a desk where she did indeed take. You had pouted in embarrassment at her reaction, so once more she took you over the desk that night, going farther than before with a wicked smirk as she made you yowl, dissolving into begging to cum again between absolutely filthy promises to all she asked, all just to prove that “a lack of passion” was most certainly the not in any way true. Your former partners just hadn’t known how to be what you needed. And that was fine. You just had to find what you needed in someone you clicked with — after you fulfilled your promises to her. You were going to be sore for months, you had thought, but found yourself enjoying every moment of sinfully wonderful pleasure as you soaked up all she diligently taught you.

Which is when she introduced you to Aizawa Shouta, aka the underground hero Eraserhead, a friend of hers from their school days. You both had moved slowly, learning about one another before today had come.

He had asked you to sit down and then silently brought out an elegant tray with a collar, a beautiful amethyst one that matched your eyes, with a matching lead (that was unattached for now, not even out of its delicately showcased packaging) and set of accessories. There were silk blindfolds, cuffs and ties, three stud and three hooped piercings, a beautiful clit clip that was evidentially expensive by appearance alone, several matching clamps, a y-shaped chain to connect them, an anal plug trainer set, a vibrator, a gag and several other items all complimentary in colour and design to the collar and lead. Your eyes roamed over everything carefully, recognizing pieces from your training that made you gulp, mouth going dry as you couldn’t help but image him putting them on you, using them on you. You squirmed in your seat, rubbing your thighs together before a sharp word has you stilling, your attention back on your boyfriend.

Shouta then carefully and completely set up terms and rules to follow, going as far as to set up three different safe words of your choice. He looked at you as if you were a gift waiting to be opened as you went through the discussion with your well being as the topic. When the collar went on, so too did he become Master. What he said was to be followed. You gave a small whine, already feeling yourself slip a bit. You wanted to be his, you needed to be his and this was taking too slow!

He obviously could tell as he let out an irritated sigh and quickly pinned you to the couch on your stomach. Your hands were held tightly behind your back and a knee was settled between your legs, making it so you couldn’t escape back or forward so long as he held you tight. His mouth was right behind your ear as he firmly commanded you to be still. Your heart dove into your stomach and bounced right back out as he repeated himself before making sure you understood by repeating him.

As soon as you replied with your knowledge of what he said and consent he bit the back of your neck. Just which one of you had the cat quirk again?

Your answer came in the form of a nip to your ear that causes both to flatten to your head in reflex. You had zoned out and your Master looked amused.

“Still with me, Kitten?”, he asked, a hand moving through your hair, causing you to purr loudly.

You gave a soft mewl at the affection in his tone and nodded, leaning further into his hand at your hair, noting the other was massaging your breast, giving gentle squeezes and then tugging lightly at your nipples sending a shiver down your spine. If he kept that up….. “Yessir,” you responded, blinking slowly up at him, not quite looking at his eyes.

“Good,”he nodded, letting out an amused huff as your head presses him for more petting. Shouta pressed back, gripping your hair as he leaned down, capturing your mouth in a firm but loving kiss.

As the kiss broke you mewled questioningly, head tilting as much as you could, “Good Kitten?” You hoped you were. He seemed pleased, but you had to ask to be sure. You didn’t want to disappoint your new Master, not now, not ever. You had already started off distracted, but he seemed to let that pass.

Shouta chuckled, a wicked hint to it, and you felt his clever fingers tweak your nipples eliciting a moan before both hands traveled down your body.

“Excellent Kitten,” he replied, one hand slipping to press against and squeeze your ass, bringing your body even closer to him. The other slipped around to between the both of you and honed in on your clit, rubbing it in even measure. “My Kitten.”

“Oh!” You let out a sound of surprise as you began to squirm as he began to play your body, the first round and break done with the second beginning. “All yours! All for Master! Master’s Kitten, Master’s pet, Master’s, Master’s!”

The words played out like a chant as the hand on your rear moved to cup your hip and readjust your body to fit his. You’re core was matched with his cock and took just one smooth thrust before it slipped into your pussy, bottoming out. You gasped in surprise again before moaning loudly. “Master….!”

“Yessss,” he grunted in pleasure, thrusting his hips forward with a sharp snap to bury himself almost far more impossibly deeper. “Fits perfectly, Kitten. Your used little pussy, opening up and swallowing me right up, Pet! My Kitten’s tight little pussy, taking me so perfectly! Knows who it belongs to! Going to make it so it’ll fit me and only me, Kitten. So you’ll only get wet for me, can only be filled up right by me, can only cum for me. Only for your Master, who you only belong to, isn’t that right?”

“Only for Master, only Master’s.” You nodded quickly, beginning to babble as you repeated his words to show you understood. You wore his collar. You were his Kitten, his pet and only his. You followed his words and your body would only be filled up right by him. By your Master. “Master’s pussy, Master’s pussycat! So good for Master! Only Master, only Master’s pussy, only fit, only wet for him, only Masters Please! Please please please! Master! Oh!”

With each deep, slow thrust Shouta gave you, you promised, you begged. And he smirked smugly with a touch of sadistic. He’d keep you begging for a few more minutes. See if he could bring out some more promises, maybe get you to agree to those piercings — he had the tools for it. You would look so good laying on the table, trying to stay still like he would order, only to fail and have to be tied up. He’d then pierce you, listening to your restrained whimpers as he took care to fasten and clean you up, admiring the gorgeous sight of you with them, then reminding you with a sadistic smirk that you couldn’t have your tight, sweet little pussy used up any until it healed. Same with your sweet nipples, just to be safe, of course. You wouldn’t be allowed to touch yourself, either.

You would whine and whimper, wanting to be filled with your Master’s cock and that’s when he’d bring out the set of training plugs. You’d be so eager, needing to be filled now that you found out you couldn’t. He’d prepare you maddeningly slow, letting you squirm some more on his fingers, but giving your ass a firm warning smack when you wouldn’t settle. Shouta could picture it perfectly, accurately too as you would indeed react true to his predictions, even going further to his surprise. Just because you couldn’t use your pussy didn’t mean you couldn’t use your mouth, too.

And he’d soon learn how addicting your mouth would be. How much he’d come to love watching you be spit roasted between him and your toys, maybe even just between your toys, practically choking on a dildo, drooling around the thick and textured replica like a slutty little kitty as a large vibrator made your tail stand straight up as it pushed into you from behind, slowly and then with a last harsh thrust to bury itself inside that would have you yowling? What of two sex machines, perhaps? Or maybe three, with you tied in his scarf, wrists bound up as you bent forward on your knees, a spreader bar locking your legs wide open as one machine thrust into your delicious pussy, another your ass and the final one into your mouth, slick and drool making for lewd squelching sounds with every movement as he sat back and jerked off to the amazing scene before him again and again? Maybe he’d even tape it. He’s sure Nemuri would appreciate it, as a gift.

Maybe he’s even allow another person to help spir roast you, if there was anyone else worthy of being able to use what belongs to him, that is. Worthy of his perfect pet’s beautiful holes, excellent body. Just perfect, just right, just his.

Shouta’s pet, his obedient little Kitten.

—

Deepest apologies that this is so messy, but I was in a hurry to share while I have so many things to do. I’m thrilled you want to continue up the last bits I have left you and I cannot wait to read it. Have a lovely week!

ℊ

Thank you for the wonderful meal, g 😩😩

Aizawa simps, come & eatttt 💕

#g anon #xjsjsnsjxjs #holy hell #this is so GOOD #bless you for this #Aizawa smut #aizawa thirst #shouta smut #shota smut #shouta aizawa smut #shota aizawa smut #Aizawa x reader

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mandoalorian · 3 years

Text

Believer [Dark!Din Djarin x F!Reader] *SMUT*

Summary: After two months since your last encounter, The Mandalorian returns to confession. (Part two of Sinner)

Rating: 18+ only

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, religion kink, confession box blowjob, sex in a place of worship, unprotected p in v, female receiving oral, fingering, dark!Din, rough sex, hints of degradation, teasing, orgasm denial, arranged marriage mention.

Word Count: 3000>

Masterlist

REBLOGS APPRECIATED!<3

It had been two months since your encounter with The Mandalorian, and you hadn’t seen him since. Even after your father returned from Naboo, Din remained absent from attending mass. You were beginning to believe you might never see him again, and yet, you clung onto hope. It was all you had. When your father went to bed, you’d stay in the chapel late, hoping he’d come in again. It was exhausting. Surely The Mandalorian still had sins to confess. Your biggest fear was that he was deliberately trying to avoid you. He had this dark aura to him, and so if his only intention that night was to wreck your innocence, you wouldn’t be surprised. The truth is, you’d let him do it a million times over.

You missed him. You missed his gruff nature and his bluntness, and you missed the sound of his voice, with or without the modulator of his helmet. And ah-- his helmet-- the shiny silver beskar. You missed that too, although your encounter with Din had left you yearning to know more. You wonder what he looked like underneath the helmet. You remember the dark trail of hair that started at his navel and led down to the waistband of his underwear. From that alone, you’d made the judgement that he’s probably brunette. You wondered how well groomed he was, whether or not he opted to be clean shaven or don facial hair. But most importantly, you wondered about his eyes. You believed that the eyes were the most telling feature about a person, and that they could hold a thousand secrets. Could they be blue, or green, or perhaps even the most beautiful shade of honey brown?

It was a Sunday night, just shy off two a.m., and you let out a tired yawn. You were beginning to think he’d never show again, and that you were foolish for waiting up so late. You had visions of the Mandalorian waltzing back into the chapel and rescuing from this lifestyle. You had dreams of him whisking you away and showing you the galaxy. So, on this particular night, when Din returned, you weren’t even sure if he was really him.

You weren’t sure how long he had been standing there for, leaning against the confession box, watching you drift in and out of sleep as you curled up on the front pew. His beskar clad arms were folded across his chest and his head was tilted slightly. He was eerily quiet, and when your eyes finally met his (through his visor, at least), his presence was ghost-like.

“Tired?” The Mandalorian asked, his deep, modulated voice breaking the silence. Although it was less of a question and more of an acknowledgement. He was the first to speak, and of course it was a typical cocky remark. You didn’t even realise how much you’d missed that side to him; the rude and degrading side. That was how you knew it was really him. You’d been a good girl your entire life; your mind was simply not equipped to make this stuff up. “Did you miss me?”

You rubbed your eyes and stood up from your seat on the pew, taking a second to process his presence. Did you miss him? You’d been touching yourself to the memory of his cock every single night since your encounter, and he had the audacity to ask if you missed him? Of course, you’d never willingly admit to that. Especially not to him.

When you didn’t reply, he stalked over to the front pew, his broad shoulders looming over you.

“Went back to visiting brothels,” Din revealed, bringing his gloved hand to your neck and giving it a small squeeze. “But they just don’t do it like you.”

“We aren’t in the confession box, Mando.” you snapped back, and his grip around you tightened as he chuckled. You nervously diverted your gaze from his and he raised his hand so he could grab your chin. He tilted it upwards, forcing you to look at him.

“Well, I’m here to confess.”

As you walked Din back over to the box, you noticed your panties were already slick with arousal. You’d anticipated this moment for months, but of course, you weren’t inclined to give into him that easy. You were excited though, hoping and praying that this would turn into more than just a typical confession session.

“State your name for the records.” you sigh, following procedure as you shuffled down onto your chair.

“Din Djarin.”

The way he spoke his own name was just as beautiful as you had remembered.

“And why are you here today?” you asked.

There was a brief silence before you were met with the Mandalorian’s low, gravelly voice. He’d taken off his helmet.

“I want you to suck my cock.”

His request winded you. Blunt and straight to the point. Honestly? You should’ve seen it coming. The thought of him fucking your mouth sent you in a frenzy, and you found yourself fighting the urge to touch yourself right then and there.

“That’s your confession?” you gulped, your fingers fiddling with the royal blue velveteen curtain that separated you both from seeing one another. You sighed and shook your head. “We can’t…” you trailed off, and you hated the way the words tasted on your tongue. This was everything you had waited for and now you were denying him? “It was wrong of us to do in the first place and I— it’s going to take a lot for me to move past it.”

“Do you still think about it?” Din asked, and his question bore a lot of weight as he reminisced on the night you and him spent together.. Inside the confession box was cold, so much so that a shiver that ran down your spine.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said softly. “I’m… getting married in the Summer.” you revealed, almost shyly. Din felt his freeze over and heart sink into his chest. Married? So fast? When he made no comment, you explained further. You tried to sound enthusiastic and positive, but the words just died as they left your lips. “My father found a minister who preaches on Takodana. He’s a little older than I, and even trained as a monk for several years. I hear Takodana is beautiful. Have you been before?”

Din scoffed incredulously, but you weren’t sure if the noise that came from the back of his throat was answering your question, or if it just signified his response to everything you had just said. He couldn’t believe it. “Just like I told you the last time we met,” he hummed knowingly. “If you marry him, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

This wasn’t the first time he had given you attitude. And it wouldn’t be the last.

“And what do you suggest I do?” you spat back. You weren’t just going to let him stick around if he was only going to make you feel bad for your decisions and what he considered to be poor life choices.

Din laughed, and if there wasn’t a closed curtain between you both, you would have smacked him right then and there. “I suggest you do what I ask without all the backchat,” he growled. “I suggest you get on your knees, open your pretty mouth, and suck my cock.”

You wanted to argue. You so desperately wanted to argue with him until he was begging for you, but you had waited too long for this too. You were desperate to taste him.

“Stand up, take off your pants, you instructed, biting your lip as you heard his zipper go down.

Once he was ready, Din stood with his hands flat against the wooden wall of the confession box, and you peeled back the curtain. You fell to your knees and wrapped your hands around his thick length, already revelling in how hot and heavy it felt. Din’s eyes snapped shut as you pumped his manhood. He’d missed the feeling of your soft hands. You gathered his precum which was leaking from the pink tip and rubbed it along his shaft.

Teasingly, you pressed a delicate kiss to his weeping slit. The Mandalorian couldn’t help but buck his hips at the tender contact. “More.” he huffed, his once flat hands bunching into a fist when you press in another kiss. But this time, your kiss turns into a small kitten lick as you taste him on your tongue. And Maker, he tastes good.

“Stay still sweetheart.” you grumbled, and your voice sent a vibration straight through his core. Sweetheart? He huffed again.

He was fully and achingly hard now. You opened your mouth and wrapped your lips around his head, sucking longingly. You removed your hands from his shaft and closed your eyes as you pushed down on him, trying to take his full, thick length in your virgin throat. It took about a minute for you to get fully adjusted, but the second you began to bob your head and suck him off, Din swore he was seeing stars. With every thrust of your mouth, you managed to push deeper and deeper until the curve of his nose was pressed against the soft tufts of brown hair just above his cock.

When you felt him twitch in your mouth, you knew he was close. You reached your hand through the dip in the curtain and began to cradle his balls, massaging them as his moans became louder and more guttural. As much as you wanted him to shoot his salty load down your throat, you knew that this might be the only chance you got to dominate your control over him. So, at the very last second before he could cum, you pulled off his cock with a ‘pop’.

He cursed out loud at the sudden loss of contact, and you wiped the trail of saliva mixed with precum from your lips. You could hear Din fussing from the otherside of the curtain and just as you were about to ask him what was he doing, his hand shot between the material as he passed you a piece of black cloth. Truly, it looked like he’d ripped a piece of his undershirt to craft it. When you took it from him, albeit hesitantly, his voice gave you instruction.

“Put it on,” he ordered. “Blindfold yourself.”

His voice had dropped an octave since you denied him of his orgasm.

Nevertheless, you obliged, wrapping the material around your eyes so you couldn’t see a thing. “Done.”

Din came out from the confession box and opened the door to your side, carefully guiding you out and walking you over to the candlelit altar.

“Lie down.” he told you gruffly.

It was hard to make a judgement in regards to where exactly in the chapel you were, but for some reason, you felt as though you could trust him. He pushed you back down to your knees and you felt the soft carpet beneath you.

Your pussy was dripping wet at this point, desperate for some kind of relief. In one swift motion, Din ripped your robe from you and you felt the material tear. He threw the garments to the floor and immediately latched his mouth to your breast. His tongue swirled around the hardening bud of your nipple and with his free hand, he began to caress and squeeze the breast that wasn’t receiving the attention of his lips. He palmed at the soft flesh and revelled in the way your moans escaped from your lips. He trailed his late hand down your stomach and stopped when he hit the hem of your panties. Din pulled off you and swapped over, this time sucking your other breast, even nibbling this time with his teeth. He lowered his hand and began to rub you through the thin white material of your underwear.

You felt him chuckle darkly against your chest as he felt just how wet you were. It was all for him, and he’d barely even touched you yet. He swirled his index finger over your clit and even through the cotton, the sensation was indescribable. You wanted nothing more than for him to rip off your panties the same way he’d ripped off your robes.

Din drew back from you and held you by your shoulders, slowly pushing you down so you were laying on your back with your legs spread open for him. He began to tug at your waistband and you lifted your ass up so he could pull down your panties.

He tossed them by your robes and parted your legs once more. He admired the way your cunt looked under the glowing amber candlelight, the way your juices sparkled like they were asking to be ravished by him.

“So pretty.” Din praised.

Din couldn’t contain himself any longer. He latched his tongue against your clit and began sucking profusely. That’s when you realised one of the questions you’d been dwelling on for the past two months had been answered. He definitely had facial hair. The roughness of his stubble grazing the softness of your cunt felt phenomenal. Every now and again, he’d pull back and separate your folds with his fingers, focusing his erratic tongue on your exposed sweet spot. He’d lap you up like a starved man, moaning at the taste of your arousal on his tongue.

Just when you thought you wouldn’t be able to take it anymore, Din plunged two fingers deep inside of you without warning. You let out a yelp and arched your back as he tongue fucked you even faster. You grew impossibly wetter and he began to stretch you out, prepping you for his thick cock.

He pushed one orgasm out of you first though, and left you shaking and twitching and struggling to regain your breath as you squirmed around on the floor, completely at his demand. Before you could even come down from your thigh, he positioned himself at your entrance and thrust his cock inside of you.

“Oh— oh fuck, I’ve missed this.” he groaned, tossing his head back as pleasure ran through his veins. Tears pricked your eyes, not that Din would’ve known, since you were blindfolded and all. He set a rough and ruthless pace, his hips snapping into yours as he got drunk on the feeling of your perfect walls clamping around him. “‘Missed this.. mi— missed you.”

You chanted his name over and over again like it was the sweetest prayer to ever leave your lips.

“Oh f—fuck Din,” you gasped, your fingernails digging into the muscles of his back. “Feels so good.”

He couldn’t believe how wet and tight you were. You locked your legs around his ass, signalling for him to keep going. Din looked down at you, revelling in the way you were gasping beneath him. In that moment, he wished he could remove the blindfold from you and look into your beautiful eyes as he fucked you senseless. His gaze dropped down to your pretty, soft lips, and he had to fight the urge to kiss you.

Din groaned when he increased his speed and their bodies made the most unadulterated wet sounds as skin slapped skin. Your toes curled as you felt another orgasm bubble up inside the pit of your tummy. Din was close too, in fact-- he’d been holding back this entire time. His breathing became laboured and with one final thrust, The Mandalorian let out a strangled cry, his body seizing up as he came. You felt his manhood throb inside of you, the pulsations pushing you over the edge as you clenched around him, tight like a vice.

Din stayed hovering over you as you both came down from your high, and he waited until his cock softened before pulling out of you and rolling over and laying next to you.

You shuffled into his warm chest and he wrapped his strong arms around you. The silence between you both was comfortable, as it always had been. The dynamic between you both felt so natural, despite both of you heeding very different personalities.

Once again, Din was the first to speak.

“Leave, right now, with me.” He whispered, cradling your naked body as it warmed by the candlelight.

“I can’t.” you replied sadly, blinking away the unshed tears that glazed your sparkling eyes. You wished you could. You wished there was a way around all of this, where you didn’t have to stay and marry the Takodanian preacher, but everything had already been planned. And your father, the grand bishop, would never approve.

“I’ve been on the run my whole life,” Din revealed, shifting his weight slightly. His strong arms tightened around you and his fingers traced comforting circles on your tummy. You nuzzled your head into his chest and relished his scent, knowing that this might well be the last time you see The Mandalorian. “I’ve seen the entire galaxy. Takodana is beautiful. I do think you’ll like it…” Din paused. “But I think you’ll like spending time with me even more.”

At one point, you might have laughed at his arrogance, but in the softness of the moment, you realised, he was right. You didn’t want to leave Din and get married to a complete stranger. You just didn’t want to leave Din.

“What can you offer me?” you asked the Mandalorian after a pause. You wouldn’t ask for much. You had grown up in a very minimalistic household after the grand bishop renounced all his material possessions. The question was more so rhetoric.

Din leaned into you, his warm breath fanning over the shell of your ear.

“Freedom.”

----------------------------------------------------------

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dccomicsimagines · 3 years

Text

Stalker - Terry McGinnis x Reader

Trigger Warning - Stalker Behavior, Darker Themes

Requested by Anon - Can I request one where Terry finds out his s/o has a stalker?

***

You shivered, standing outside of school. It was a cool spring day. You wished you had worn your jacket, but the sun shining through your bedroom window this morning made you too optimistic about the weather.

“Come on, Ter. Where are you?” you whispered, jumping up and down to warm up a little. The school bell rang. You sighed. “Late again.” You turned around to enter when a warm jacket suddenly wrapped around your shoulders.

“I’m not late. Just almost late.” Terry chuckled in your ear. He kissed your cheek before moving ahead to open the door for you.

“For once.” You winked at him, sliding your arms into his jacket. “Come on, we’re going to be late for Literature.”

Terry groaned, running a hand through his hair. “What’s the reading we had to do for today?”

“The Yellow Wallpaper.” You sneaked a sniff of his jacket, enjoying his scent. Terry rubbed his eyes and missed it. “I’ll catch you up. We’re just supposed to be in discussion groups.” The two of you strolled down the hall, tempting fate as the final bell was about to ring.

“Lucky I have you, babe. I think I’d have to drop out by now if I didn’t.” Terry wrapped his arm around your shoulders. You leaned into him, still snug in his jacket.

“I doubt that. You’d just actually have to do your homework.” You caught his lips in a quick kiss before you both entered the classroom just as the bell rang.

***

You walked alone to the elementary school to pick up your younger siblings and Terry’s little brother, Matt. Terry’s mom and your parents paid you the big creds to babysit them every day after school. It was actually how you met Terry in the first place.

Terry would usually try to walk with you until you met up with the kids, but today Mr. Wayne needed him earlier than normal. You pulled his jacket closer, only realizing now that you still had it. Oops. You shrugged, smiling to yourself when you got a whiff of Terry from the jacket.

As you neared the elementary school, a shiver ran up your spine when you heard footsteps behind you. “Excuse me,” someone said from behind you. You turned, holding your bag tighter.

It was an older man, maybe mid-forties. He ran up to you. His hair was oily and his face was breaking out in hives. “Can I help you?” you asked. Something felt off about him. You took an involuntary step back when he stopped before you.

“You dropped this.” He held out keychain with a batman symbol on it.

“Oh thank you.” You gasped, holding out your hand. He dropped it into your palm after a pause. “I can’t believe I lost it. It must have broke.”

He nodded, smiling as he stared at you. “You’re welcome.”

You waited for him to leave, but he didn’t move. Just staring. Your stomach twisted, nerves on end. “Well, I better get going. Thanks again.” You turned and hurried away with your hand clenched around the keychain. Terry had given it to you. You usually had it on your bag. Once you turned the corner and were in front of the elementary school with a crowd of people, you opened your hand to check the keychain.

Your blood ran cold when you saw it wasn’t broken. How would it have fallen off if it didn’t break? You checked your bag, heart pounding when you saw your keychain was still attached. Your thumb ran across the one in your hand, noting it didn’t have the scratches yours had.

“Creepy.” You glanced over your shoulder, relieved that the man wasn’t in sight. Maybe it was a mistake? Maybe it wasn’t as creepy as you were thinking? You swallowed hard and tossed the keychain into the nearby garbage can.

Matt and your siblings ran up to you, chattering away. You gathered them up and led them toward home. However, the entire way, you felt you were being watched.

***

“What’s wrong?” Terry frowned at you, noting how you clung to his arm as the two of you slowly stepped onto the tram.

“Nothing’s wrong.” You let go of his arm, crossing your arms tightly. Terry led you over to a seat.

Terry sighed. He rolled his eyes. “You been like this all week. (Y/N), what’s wrong?” He sat down beside you. You scooted closer to him.

You glanced around nervously. “I’m fine, Ter. I just want to get home.”

“Okay.” Terry frowned and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “I just thought you wanted to spend time with me.”

“I do.” You smiled at him. It wasn’t a real smile. Terry kissed your temple. “I’m not feeling all that great today. We can hang out at my house. My siblings are at my grandparents this weekend anyway.”

“That would be great.” Terry felt you relax, closing your eyes as you laid your head against his shoulder. He pushed his worries aside. You probably weren’t feeling well like you said. It was probably nothing. He relaxed himself, keeping you close just in case.

***

You stared at the keychain lying on your doorstep. Your blood ran cold with terror. It was the same batman keychain, brand new, matching the one on your bag. Your siblings were a few feet behind you as you had rushed ahead to quickly get into your house where you were safe. Clearly, it wasn’t safe anymore.

“Wow, a batman keychain,” Matt said, moving around you to pick it up.

“Hey (Y/N), it matches yours,” your sibling said, giggling.

“Terry must have left it.” Matt made a face. “Gross.”

“Yeah, he must have.” You painted a fake smile on your face and took the keychain from Matt. “Come on, let’s get inside. I’ll let you have whatever you want for a snack.”

The kids cheered and rushed inside once you unlocked the door. You hurried after and slammed the door shut, clicking the lock. The feeling of uneasiness didn’t leave you.

***

“Terrance!” Bruce’s voice echoed through Terry’s ears. He jerked the batmobile into a climb to avoid crashing straight into a building.

“Okay, okay. We’re fine.” Terry chuckled nervously, shaking his head.

“If you crash it, you buy it.” Bruce growled. “Pay attention!”

Terry cleared his throat, turning to fly the batmobile for another lap of the city. He flew over your house and scanned the place. Everything was fine. However, the light in your room was still on. Terry glanced at the clock. It was two in the morning. “Bruce, I’m going to make a quick stop.”

“This is no time for social calls.” Bruce’s voice sharpened.

“How about you keep an ear on the police scanner like you always do and let me know if I need to go anywhere?” Terry smirked when Bruce huffed and clicked off. “Got ya.” He flew out of the batmobile and glided toward your house. Terry balanced himself on the sill of your window.

You were in bed with the covers pulled over your head. Terry opened your window silently and stepped inside. “(Y/N).” You sat up suddenly and screamed at the sight of him. Terry’s eyes widened. He pulled off his mask. “Honey, it’s me. Hush.”

You slapped a hand over your mouth, gasping for breath. The blood drained out of your face. Terry swore, shutting the window behind him and ducking into the closet as your family tore into the room.

It took several long minutes for your family to leave. Terry waited, hoping Bruce didn’t catch how badly he scared you. He leaned against the wall of your closet. His mask twisted in his fist.

The closet door opened a few minutes after the room went quiet. “I’m sorry.” You hugged him, burying your face into his chest. “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry I scared you.” Terry kissed the top of your head. “I saw your light was on, so I’d thought I would stop by.”

You jerked away from him, blood draining out of your face. “No, no, no,” you whispered, running to the window and quickly shutting the curtains.

Terry rushed to your side. “Babe, what’s wrong?” He laid a hand on your shoulder. “Why are you so scared?”

You looked at him, tears filling your eyes. Terry felt like he got punched in the gut. “I don’t want to talk about it. Please just hold me.” You hugged him so tight, he thought he might bruise.

“Okay, okay.” Terry hugged you back. He gently rocked you, still confused and concerned. Part of him wanted to demand you to explain, but seeing how upset you were, he couldn’t do it. So he let it go and held you until you fell asleep.

Terry gently tucked you into bed and turned off your light. He pressed a kiss to your forehead before slipping out the window, making sure to shut it securely behind him. “Bruce, you there?”

“Are you ready to get back to work?” Bruce’s tone edged toward scolding. Terry rolled his eyes.

“I am.” He wanted to talk about your strange behavior, but he stopped himself. Bruce doesn’t know anything about relationships anyway. He’d be no help. Terry rocketed into the sky to catch the batmobile as it went by on autopilot.

***

“Terry!” Max ran through the hall, bumping people out of the way to reach him. Terry turned to look at her, alarmed. “Come quick!”

“Where?” Terry grunted when Max grabbed his sore arm and tugged him down the hall. Max was leading him toward the school’s office. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s (Y/N). We were outside for gym class and they collapsed.” Max panted. It was only at that moment that Terry realized Max was in her gym clothes. Bruce was right, his detective skills really did need work.

His blood ran cold. “Collapsed? Are they okay?!” Max led him into the nurse’s office. Terry ran ahead and opened a curtain to find you shaking, gasping for breath as you curled up into a ball on the bed. The school nurse seemed lost. “(Y/N), sweetheart, I’m here.” Terry sank down beside the bed, wrapping his arms around you.

You looked at him, pupils dilated, eyes wide. “I...I...can...can’t breathe.” Tears ran down your cheeks.

“(Y/N), you need to calm down. Breathe with me.” He took a slow deep breath, looking you in the eye as he rubbed your back. You struggled at first, but eventually you slowed your breathing down with his. Terry could feel your heart calming down.

The school nurse said something about getting you some water and a snack, leaving you, Terry, and Max alone. “I’m sorry,” you said, leaning over to bury your face into Terry’s shoulder.

Terry shared a look with Max. “Okay, (Y/N). Something is clearly wrong. You got to tell us and don’t say it’s nothing,” Max began, sitting on foot of the bed. You pulled away from Terry, sniffling and grabbing a tissue from the box nearby. Terry took your hand, squeezing it gently.

“Okay, alright.” You closed your eyes and took a shaky breath. “I think I have a stalker.”

Terry’s stomach dropped as ice cold horror washed over him. “What?!” You flinched at his tone. Max glared at him, poking him.

“Calm down, Ter. Let (Y/N) explain.” Max turned back to you. “Why do you think you have a stalker?”

The nurse came back with water and a packet of crackers. She smiled when she saw you were calm. “Eat and drink, we’ll see how you feel. Terry and Max, you can stay with (Y/N). I’ll let your teachers know.” You took a sip of water once the nurse left again.

“Slag it. (Y/N), tell us what happened.” Terry’s hands shook. You looked at him, taking a deep breath.

“Okay. It started a month ago...”

“A month? This has been going on for a month?!” Terry got to his feet. The terror going straight to his head.

“Terry, sit down and shut up.” Max punched his arm. Terry flinched before forcing himself to sit on the edge of the bed.

You blinked back tears. “I...It started when I was walking to the elementary school to pick up the kids. You weren’t with me, Ter. Mr. Wayne needed you that day. I felt like someone was watching me and then someone ran up behind me. It was an older man. He handed me a batman keychain like the one you gave me, Ter, and I thought it was mine. I thanked him, but he just stared at me.” You shivered. Terry wrapped his arm around you, his heart threatening to burst out of his chest. “It creeped me out, so I left. It was then I realized that the keychain wasn’t mine. It was brand new and my keychain was still on my bag.”

Max and Terry tensed. “That is creepy,” Max whispered, reaching out to pat your hand.

“I threw it away, but I felt like I’ve been watched ever since.” You swallowed hard. Rogue tears slipped down your cheeks. Terry wiped them away with his thumb. “More keychains keep popping up wherever I go. There was even one on my front doorstep. I’m so scared all the time. That’s why I screamed when you visited me last night, Ter. I thought someone was breaking in to get me.” Your entire body trembled. “Even during gym class, there was one in my spot on the bench. That’s why I freaked out.”

“Why did you not tell me?” Terry soothed, pushing down his anger and terror. It wouldn’t help you.

“I didn’t want you to worry. Besides, I was hoping it was nothing, but it’s not. It can’t be.” You burst into tears again. Terry pulled you into his chest, sharing another look with Max.

“I’ll go see if I can find the keychain outside,” Max whispered to Terry. She slipped out of the room.

Terry sighed. “You’ll be fine, (Y/N). I’ll protect you. Whoever this is, they won’t get you.”

You grabbed at his jacket tightly. “Okay.” You sniffled. “Do you think they’ll let me go home? I just want to be home now, Ter.”

“I’ll go ask if I can take you home.” He pulled away from you. “Just relax.” You settled down on the bed, drinking the water the nurse brought you.

Terry clenched his hands into fists. His heart burned at the thought you were in danger and he didn’t even notice. Something bad could have happened because he didn’t get the answer to your strange behavior before. He swallowed hard, going to the school nurse to talk about being able to take you home. Hopefully, Max will find that keychain for him before he left. It was time for him to use his detective skills. You needed him to.

***

“What are you doing?” Bruce asked, walking over to Terry as Terry stared at the batcomputer. Terry was running scans on the keychain Max had recovered from the school. He hated to leave you, but Max was with you, helping you watch your siblings and Matt while also keeping you safe.

“(Y/N) has a stalker.” Terry slammed his fist against the computer when the keychain came up with nothing. “Slag it!”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. Ace barked at him in warning. Terry forced himself to relax, rubbing his chin to think. “What do we know?” Bruce’s tone became more serious. Terry looked up to find Bruce studying the results.

“This is a dead end. The guy didn’t leave anything on the keychain and (Y/N) didn’t keep the others.” Terry sighed. He ran a hand over his face. “There’s got to be a way to catch this dreg before he does something to (Y/N). (Y/N)’s already scared out of their mind.”

Bruce huffed. “You need to think less directly, McGinnis.” He gestured for Terry to get out of the chair. Terry stood up, sighing as Bruce took the seat and started working on the batcomputer. “Do you know where these keychains are sold?”

“I bought (Y/N)’s at the mall. There was a kiosk selling all these retro keychains.” Terry blinked. “Do you think we could hack into the mall’s security footage and see who was buying them?”

Bruce’s mouth twitched into almost a smirk. “Yes.”

“(Y/N) gave me this.” Terry pressed a button to bring up your description of the man you first encountered. “This is the man who gave them the keychain the first time.”

“Interesting.” Bruce hacked into the security and brought up footage of the kiosk. “What day did (Y/N) have the first encounter?”

Terry rubbed his chin. “About a month ago.” He shook his head. “I’m such a dreg for not noticing sooner. They are so scared.”

“Focus, Terrence.” Bruce frowned as the security footage fast forwarded until it stopped when it caught a person buying several batman keychains all at once. “It looks like we found our person.”

“Wait.” Terry leaned forward to study the person. “Oh my god, I know them. They go to our school, but (Y/N) was approached by an old man with the first keychain?”

Bruce hummed. “They probably paid the man to deliver it.” The computer popped up with the person’s school record. “Their name is Tay Diabolos. Seems like they have a shaky school attendance record and their grades are worse than yours.”

“Geez, thanks.” Terry frowned. “But (Y/N) hasn’t had any interaction with them as far as I know. They would have told me if they were being weird.”

“Sometimes that doesn’t matter.” Bruce brought up Tay’s address. “Go to their home, see what you can find. Don’t engage them. We’ll need to do this carefully.” Bruce glared at Terry. Terry just blushed. “I will run more tests on this keychain. My gut is telling me there is something we’re missing.”

“Mine too.” Terry patted Ace’s head before running off to get on his suit. Bruce watched him go. Ace barked, butting his head against Bruce’s leg.

“I know. He’s probably going to make a mess of it.” Bruce scratched Ace’s ear and turned to examine the keychain in ways Terry didn’t even think of.

***

Terry turned on his optical camouflage as he neared the run-down part of Neo-Gotham. He swallowed hard, pushing aside his fear for you. Max already called him to reassure him you were fine, but his stomach was twisted in knots.

He landed on the roof of an old house that must have been built around the time Bruce was young. A smirk pulled at Terry’s lips as he thought that it was probably over a hundred years old.

“Are you at the address yet?” Bruce’s voice suddenly filled his ear. Terry jumped, thankful Bruce wasn’t able to read minds.

“Just arrived.” Terry climbed down and opened the second story window. “I got nothing on my heat scans, so no one is home.”

Bruce grunted. “I told you not to rely on that too much. There are ways to cheat the scan.”

“It’s fine.” Terry looked around the empty room he entered. He went over the door and opened it. The hallway was dirty, covered in beer cans and stains. “Looks like a party house of some sort.”

“I found a micro tracer on the keychain. It’s cheap, only a range of two miles if even.” Bruce hummed. “He was attempting to track (Y/N). Are you sure (Y/N) never kept the keychains?”

“Yeah, they threw them away because it freaked them out. The only one still around is the one we have.” Terry’s eyes widened. “Wait, did you deactivate the tracer?”

Bruce snorted. “Of course.” Terry moved deeper into the house, following the light that peeked under one of the doors. “Remember do not engage, McGinnis. This is recon only.”

Terry didn’t respond as he peeked into the room. His heart spasmed in terror when his eyes fell onto a wall covered in pictures of you. A few were your school photos, but most were taken without your knowledge. Terry touched one that was you walking home with your siblings. “Are you seeing this?”

“This has been going on longer than we thought.” Bruce sighed deeply.

“Oh no, no, no.” Terry’s blood ran cold when he saw strands of your hair pinned to the wall. “The dreg has (Y/N)’s hair.” His hand clenched into a fist, rage pounded into his chest.

“Terrance, calm down. Remember this is recon.” Bruce’s voice was so calm. Terry wanted to snap back at him, but snapping at Bruce never did any good. “Is there any sign of plans?”

Terry shook his head, clearing the red rage from his vision. He let out a slow breath. “No, this looks more like a shrine to (Y/N).” Terry knelt down to access the computer on the floor next to the shrine. One tap, and he gave Bruce remote access.

“It looks like they ordered flowers for (Y/N) tomorrow.” Bruce’s rapid typing filled Terry’s ears. Terry felt sick to his stomach.

“That’s it. I got to go be with (Y/N). This freak is going to do something.” Terry got to his feet. He froze when he heard a door open downstairs. “Slag it. Someone’s home now.”

“Get out of there. I’ll search the computer some more.” Bruce clicked off. Terry shivered, eyeing the shrine of you one more time before slipping out of the window and rocketing into the sky.

***

“Terry, are you sure? Doesn’t Mr. Wayne need you today?” You asked, wrapping a blanket around yourself as you curled up on your couch in your living room. The window curtains were all tightly closed.

“No, he doesn’t, and my mom called the school to get me off today too.” Terry sat down next to you, pulling you into his arms. “I’m here to stay.”

You had stayed home from school once you explained to your parents what was happening. They called the police, but of course, they couldn’t do anything since Tay hadn’t actually done anything. Terry could see the trembling of your hands, how the color drained from your face. This was making you sick.

“Thanks Ter.” You relaxed into him. “I hate this. Why did this person have to do this to me?”

“They’re sick.” Terry bit his lips. “(Y/N), do you know someone named Tay Diabolos?”

You blinked. “Yeah, they go to our school. I had science with them before they got kicked out for mixing cleaners and almost killing the class with the fumes.” You looked up at Terry curiously. “Don’t you remember? I had to go to the hospital with Blade and Zip. We got the worst of it.”

Terry’s eyes widened. “Wait, isn’t that when I got you the keychain? I picked you up from the hospital and took you to the mall where we got it from...that’s it!” Terry got to his feet suddenly. Your eyes widened at the sight.

“What’s it?” You bit your lip.

“The connection. I was trying to think why. I couldn’t remember why Tay would start doing this.” Terry sank down to kneel on the floor beside you. “That must have been the event to start their obsession.”

“Obsession?” Terry could see the terror wash over you. Right, he didn’t tell you about the shrine he found.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.” Terry took your hand. “I’ll handle it, okay?”

“Okay.” You gave Terry a weak smile as you squeezed his hand. “Just be careful.”

“Always.” Terry leaned forward to kiss your lips sweetly. For the first time in a long time, you seem relieved.

***

“I think I should fly down there and scare them away from (Y/N),” Terry said as he paced the cave. Bruce and Ace sat by the batcomputer, watching him.

“Ter, you know that will cause more problems. How does Batman know Tay is stalking a classmate? Why is Batman involving himself in a stalker case?,” Max said, eyeing the huge cave around her. It took a long time, but Bruce finally let her into the cave. She wandered over to look at the old costumes display. Bruce eyed her with slight disapproval.

“True.” Bruce stuck his cane out and tapped Terry’s leg.

Terry stopped pacing, crossing his arms. “I was thinking I would confront him as myself.”

“No. That will just make things worse.” Max snapped and turned to look at Terry with wide eyes. “Clearly, Tay was triggered by seeing you with (Y/N). That’s the reason for the keychains. They must have seen you buy one for (Y/N).”

“Then what am I supposed to do?! This is killing (Y/N)! I’m sick and tired of seeing them scared out of their mind!” Terry threw his hands up in the air. Ace barked at him, nervous from his outburst.

“Calm down, McGinnis,” Bruce said sternly, turning around in his chair to study the computer. “We need to go through normal channels. I’ve spoke to Barbara Gordon, she says she can help (Y/N) get a restraining order, but we need evidence first.”

“Aren’t the keychains enough?” Max asked, coming to Bruce’s side to watch the security footage of your house. They had installed it just in case.

Bruce shook his head. “No, (Y/N) threw most of them away. Besides, there is no evidence that Tay gave them the keychains. They covered their tracks well.”

A groan came from Terry as he pulled at his hair. His phone beeped. He picked up the phone once he saw it was you. The sound of your tears met his ear, his blood turned to ice water.

“Terry, there’s a message on our machine,” you whispered. Your voice breaking with a sob. “It’s from Tay. He said he left a present for me outside...”

“It’s okay. Just have everyone stay inside.” Terry ran over to the batcomputer, having to focus to keep his voice calm and even. Max and Bruce watched in concern when Terry had the batcomputer zoom in on the footage of your front step to show another batman keychain lying there.

“Oh my god.” Max gasped. “But we were watching the whole time.”

Bruce hummed, a scowl on his face. He reached over to pet Ace, who was getting jumpy from the energy of the room. “Terry, I can’t live like this anymore,” you said.

“Hush. I’ll take care of it. I swear.” Terry’s heart was ready to pound out of his chest. He wanted to fly over to Tay’s house and beat the life out of him. “Just stay inside. Leave the keychain where it’s at. I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay.” You hung up the phone, but not before Terry heard a full out sob burst out of you.

“I think I have an idea.” Bruce got to his feet and walked over to the workbench to get his pill bottle. Terry stared at his phone, lost in his own tortured imagination. “We need to get Tay off the streets, and the best way to do that is to catch them for another crime.”

“Another crime?” Max put her hands on her hips. “But isn’t harassing (Y/N) enough?”

Bruce grunted. “No. Harassment is messy. It rarely sticks unless you have hard evidence which we don’t have.” Bruce leaned on his cane as he picked up his pills and swallowed them dry.

Terry stuck his phone back in his pocket. “You have a plan I assume?” He ran over to the changing area to switch into his suit.

“I do. From what I seen in the vid from your search of Tay’s home, I saw evidence of slappers.” Bruce walked back to the batcomputer and sat down.

“Oh, so we get Tay for drug possession, which should get them away from (Y/N).” Max grinned. “Sway idea, Mr. Wayne.”

“Yeah, sway.” Terry ran out of the changing area in full Batman mode. He hopped into the batmobile. “Keep me updated on what I need to do, but I have to check on (Y/N) first.” The batmobile zoomed off.

***

After Terry made sure your house was secure and you were calmed down, he followed Bruce’s lead to Tay’s house once again. “What’s your plan?”

“Find evidence of slappers in Tay’s house, make probable cause for the police to enter,” Bruce said firmly. “If we can get Tay on drug possession charges, they can get off the streets and get the help they need.”

“And (Y/N) will finally feel safe again.” Terry rocketed out of the batmobile and landed on the roof of the house next door. “There’s a party going on.” Tay’s house was raging, filling with people drinking, laughing, dancing. Loud music boomed out of the opened windows.

“This might be to our advantage. The noise alone will be probable cause.” Bruce hummed. “But we need to make sure the police find the slapper evidence and connect it to Tay.”

Terry grunted, turning on his optical camouflage and glided toward the house. He slipped through the open window, avoid the people in the room as he slipped through the open door to the hallway. It took him a full minute to get into the room where the shrine was since a couple was making out against it. They finally moved and Terry slipped inside.

Tay was in the room, luckily facing away from the door and didn’t see it seemly open on it’s own. It took every ounce of will for Terry not to rip into them when he saw them adding another photo to the shrine. He paled when it was a photo of your bedroom window, showing you hugging Terry with Terry still clearly in his batsuit.

“Damn,” Terry whispered under his breath. Suddenly, a smirk pulled at his lips. He turned off his camouflage.

“Terry, what are you doing?” Bruce asked sharply.

“Tay Diabolos.” A wave of satisfaction washed over Terry when Tay jerked, turning around in surprise. “I need to have a word with you.”

Tay laughed. “You think I’m scared, Terry McGinnis.” Tay pulled out a gun, aiming it at Terry’s chest. “You aren’t good enough for (Y/N).”

“You think I’m Terry McGinnis?” Terry laughed darkly. “You aren’t very smart, but then again, you wouldn’t be if you can’t notice what you’re doing to (Y/N) is criminal.”

“Don’t mock me!” Tay fired the gun. Terry easily dodged by stepping aside.

“Careful of the civilians around you, Terry. I’ll make an anonymous call to the police,” Bruce said. The slight approval in Bruce’s voice made Terry’s heart soar.

Terry shot out a batarang and knocked the gun from Tay’s hand. “Leave (Y/N) alone.” He marched forward, picking Tay up by the front of their shirt. “If I ever see you even look at them again, I’ll pound you into the pavement. The police would have to take a DNA test to identify your body.”

“You won’t stop me.” Tay spit in Terry’s face. Terry held back a flinch. “I’ll be with (Y/N). I love them more than you ever could, McGinnis.”

Terry grunted and dropped Tay only to throw a quick jab at their jaw. Tay dropped like a pile of bricks.

“Well, you certainly made a mess now.” Bruce’s voice filled Terry’s ears.

“We’ll figure it out. The suit can still be on autopilot mode, right?” Terry took the photo of himself and you and slipped it into his pocket.

Bruce hummed. “Yes, but you’ll need to move fast. The police are incoming.”

Terry grunted, climbing out the window of the room and flying through the air toward your house.

***

“I’m telling you the truth! Terry McGinnis is Batman!” Tay shouted, fighting against the restraints as the cops tried to put him into the car. Barbara put her hands in her pockets and glanced back at Batman who stood a few feet away.

“Right.” Another car pulled up and Terry exited. Barbara smiled. “And how is it he can be in two places at once?”

The blood drained out of Tay’s face as they looked between Terry and Batman. “It’s a trick! He planned this! I’ll get (Y/N) away from you! I swear it!”

“Enough.” The cops pushed Tay into the car and slammed the door to lock him inside.

Barbara patted Terry’s shoulder as Batman suddenly rocketed off into the sky into the waiting batmobile. “Tay won’t be bothering (Y/N) anytime soon. We have enough evidence to keep him in juvie for quite some time.”

“And the evidence for the restraining order?” Terry asked, biting his lip to keep from smirking in delight. The cops drove Tay away. Their shouts could still be heard through the vehicle.

“Being processed. We’ll hand it over to (Y/N)’s lawyer in the morning.” Barbara sighed. “I’ll let you deliver the news to (Y/N).”

“Thanks.” Terry hopped back into the car and drove back to your place.

“So it worked?” Bruce asked through the comlink in Terry’s ear. “And slow down, that’s my car you’re driving.”

Terry laughed. “It worked. Tay looked crazy.” He bit his lip, slowing down a bit. “Did the suit get back to the cave alright?”

“Yes, it just arrived with the batmobile. I’ll shut down autopilot mode.” Bruce hummed. “I assume you’re going to (Y/N)’s.”

“Of course.” Terry’s foot hit the gas again. “I’ll check in tomorrow.”

Bruce grunted. “Right.” He hung up bluntly as he always did. Terry shook his head, unable to keep the grin off his face.

***

You shivered, pulling your jacket tighter around you. Taking a step outside your front door, you sighed in relief when you weren’t frozen from anxiety.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Terry said, running up the steps to you. You laughed and jumped into his arms.

“Hey yourself.” Terry spun you around. You screamed when he almost toppled down the stairs. “Are you ready for the club?”

“I am.” Your face hurt from how much you were smiling. “I want to dance the night away.”

Terry ran down the stairs with you still in his arms. “Sway, because I’m ready to dance with you all night too.”

“Put me down.” You patted his shoulders. Terry set you down, keeping his arm around your waist. You kissed his cheek as you both started down the street. “And thank you.”

“For what?” Terry smirked at you. His hand squeezed your hip.

You looked into his eyes. “Oh, you know.” The words didn’t dare leave your lips, keeping the fear at bay.

Terry smiled before kissing you passionately on the lips. You melted into him, content and safe in his arms.

#terry mcginnis #terry mcginnis x reader #terry mcginnis imagine #batman #batman imagine #batman x reader #batman beyond #batman beyond imagines #batman beyond x reader #dc comics imagines #dc reader insert

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honeypirate · 3 years

Text

How do you feel about kissing?

Featuring the haikyuu boys! Just some of them though lmao

Asking your best friend (Noya, Asahi, Ushijima, Tendou, Kuroo, Bokuto) how they feel about kissing

Reader is fem

Noya

His head was on your stomach as you played with his hair laying in the sunshine during lunch. A thing you normally did in the summertime for the last how many years you’ve known him. “Noya” you say softly, watching the clouds go by. He has his eyes closed but he responds “whats up?” he says sleepily and you twist his blonde patch around your finger “how do you feel about kissing?” you ask and his eyes pop open, staring up at the sky before he sits up and turns around to look at you “do you wanna kiss me?” he asks seriously and your cheeks flush, you cover your cheeks with your hands as you turn away slightly “maybe” you whisper and he laughs “OH BOY Tanaka is NOT going to believe this!” he says with a clap and you scowl at him making him chuckle “no no no, because he thought i’d have to confess to you first! He didnt think you felt the same! Now come, come here pretty girl. come here my girl let me kiss you finally! my pretty girl!” he starts to crawl over to you and you giggle trying to stand to run but he lunges and pushes you gently to your back on the sun warmed grass getouas he smiles down at you “I feel like kissing you, to answer your question” he says and then his lips are pressed to yours, kissing you like it’s the last time he’ll ever be able to.

Asahi

You clear your throat, the sound drowned out by screaming from within the gym, Hinata and Kageyama going at it again. You took Asahi outside for some air after practice ended and were now sitting on the steps to the club house looking at the stars for a moment. “So, uhm” you lean back on your elbows on a higher step “Asahi?” you ask and he hums in response “what do you think about… kissing?” you ask and he tenses. Holding his breath as he debates if he heard you right, when he turns to make eye contact he realizes he did in fact hear you right. “In general? Or.. or” he clears his throat “or with you?” his palms begin to sweat and he rubs them against his shorts. You laugh awkwardly “can i choose.. Both?” you ask quietly as you sit up straight again,

“W-well.” he takes a shaky breath “in general, i find kissing to be gross if i have to say watch someone else make out at school. B-b-but with you,” his voice gets softer “i think i’d really enjoy that” he turns to look at you and you brush your fingers across his cheek that was warm from practice and from blushing. “I think i would really enjoy kissing you too” he laughs softly, shaky from his nerves as he reaches out to cup your cheek, leaning in and closing the distance, softly pressing his lips to yours. He goes to pull away a little too soon for you liking so you whine and and lean with him, smashing your lips to his again as you try to memorize the feeling of his soft lips against yours.

Wakatoshi

“Can i ask you something Ushi?” you ask as you walk him to practice in the early morning. He’s been your best friend and neighbor for years so when you went to the same high school and had practice in the morning, it made sense that you traveled together, plus he said he wanted to make sure you were safe on the train. “You know you can ask me anything.” he states and you laugh awkwardly “yes i guess you're right” you stop when you reach his gym and he looks down at you, straight faced as always. You take a deep breath and steel your nerves “how do you feel about.. Kissing?” you ask and he stares at you for a few moments, blinking and not saying anything. You figured he was thinking so you just waited, “I think that kissing is fine in a relationship but i wouldnt know much since i havent kissed anyone before. Ask Tendou he’ll know more about it” he turns to go get Tendou but before he can bring him back to talk to you, you were gone. Ran off to your own volleyball practice feeling like a complete failure.

“Oh you poor innocent boy. She was asking you that..” Tendou grabs Ushijma by his cheeks and leans in close “BECAUSE SHE WANTS TO KISS YOU” he drops his face and laughs “she was asking, how do you feel about kissing HER?” Ushijima is silent for several minutes until at last he mutters out an “oh.”

You wait by the gate like always, your practice always getting out earlier than his. You’re messing around on your phone, setting a new ringtone, when he appears beside you. “Do you want to kiss me?” he asks and you gasp, chucking your phone into the air. “Ushijima!” you shout and he catches your phone from the air “do you?” you feel your face flush as he hands you back your phone “why do you ask?” your voice a few octaves higher from being nervous. “Tendou said you asked me about kissing earlier because you want to kiss me” he says and you laugh awkwardly, rocking on your toes as you scratch behind your neck “if i say he’s right will that ruin our friendship?” you ask as you look at his feet and he responds by cupping your cheeks and leaning down close “I’m gonna kiss you now” he says and waits for you to accept or reject him and you gasp and nod in his hands, eyes fluttering closed as his soft warm lips press against yours, sending fireworks down your spine.

Tendou

2am runs to the 24 hr gas station were a regular occurrence. You held a cherry laffy taffy in one hand and a blue slush in the other, the colors turning your tongue purple. Tendou had an apple sucker in his mouth and a cherry slushy in his hand. You finish your candy by the time you reach the park and you throw the wrapper in the trash by the entrance. You pick up your skateboard and hold it under your arm as you two walk to the top of the hill.

You sit on the bench at the top and he sits beside you, your board on the ground under your feet as you roll it softly side to side. Tendou kicks your feet and scoots closer, his thigh pressing into yours as he puts his feet beside yours, rocking side to side with you as you sit. You lean into him and sigh, your tongue was numb from your slush and your fingers were frozen, he wrapped one of his arms around you and you shivered into his warmth.

This all was normal, it happened all the time. But it still made your heart feel special, god how you wanted to kiss him.

“Satori?” you ask softly and he hums “whats up doll?” he responds over the straw he’s chewing “how do you feel about kissing?” you ask as you use the end of the straw to spoon some slush in your mouth. His head turns swiftly to look at yours and you act cool, eating your slush and being totally normal. He leans in slowly, getting closer to your face with a serious expression trying to make you break but you were used to this, you knew him. You gasped when his frozen tongue licks a stripe up your cheek “ugh you child! I should kick you off my bench!” he laughs and wraps both of his arms around you and rocks side to side “no wait don’t kick me off! Im sorry! I’ll answer your question if you answer mine!” you groan “fine! What’s your question? Just stop shaking me!” he laughs and relaxes his hold, looking down at you with a goofy grin “are you asking me this because you want me to kiss you?” he asks seriously but the little grin he had made you worry he was going to make fun of you.

your eyes grow wide and you clear your throat, suddenly self conscious and feeling stupid “I!- uh maybe yeah I was but sheesh” you try and scoot away from him, laughing awkwardly “that was stupid huh yeah. Stupid” you mumble but he wont let you scoot away “hey” he says softly and you pause to look up at him, his goofiness gone and replaced by softness you rarely got to see “you’re not stupid, pretty girl. You’re very smart.” he says and cups your cheek “i like kissing. I havent kissed anyone in a very long time” he coughs “Second grade” coughs again and you laugh, remembering that day in second grade when your best friend at the time dared him to kiss her so he kissed you instead. “I’ve been waiting, hoping, you'd want to kiss me again” he whispers as his face comes closer to yours, you hold your breath as he leans down, almost 100%, leaving just a sliver of space between you.

“You like me. How embarrassing for you” you tease and make him laugh “i love you. How embarrassing is that?” he mumbles, his lips barely brushing yours and you sigh “as embarrassing as me loving you” you say and his lips crash against yours, his tongue tasted like cherries and it mixed with your berry perfectly.

Kuroo

“KuRRooOoo” you yell sing as you walk into the empty gym, “Y/N” He shouts back as he exits the supply closet, having just finished cleaning up, the rest of the boys already in the showers.”walk me home?” you ask with a smile and he nods “of course, meet me by the gates in ten minutes” you nod and wink at him before leaving the gym, heading back to the class room you were studying in to gather your things.

“There you are beautiful” he says when he walks up and you kick your feet on the side of the wall “can you help me down hot stuff?” you ask and he nods, coming over with his hands out.

You were just friends, that's what you said when anyone asked. She’s just a friend! Is what Kuroo tried to convince Kenma. You just call each other nice things! It’s normal. But when he places his hands on your thighs, slowly running them up until they land on your hips, you think it’s a hint about his deeper feelings.

“Hop down” he says and you blush with a grin not moving. you instead move your knees farther apart, wrapping them around his waist. He raises his eyebrows and you grab his hands, moving them back down to your thighs so you can softly runs your fingers against his “how do you feel,,, about kissing?” you ask and cock your head, your hair falling over your shoulder as you looked up at him with innocent eyes.

“How do I? Feel?” he asks and you chuckles “how do i feel about kissing?” he asks again, you laugh out loud before cupping his cheeks and looking him in the eye, bringing his face close “Tetsuro” you whisper demandingly “answer” he blushes and swallows, his popular guy persona draining from his bones “i like kissing. I like you” he whispers out quickly with a nervous chuckle and you beam at him, your smile spreading as you wrap your arms around his neck “i like you too” you whisper and give him a small peck causing him to gasp before he chuckles and wraps his arms around your waist, the wall the perfect height to lean in and press his lips to yours, feeling his smile against your lips as you kiss him back.

Bokuto

“Hey Bo! How do you feel about kissing?” you asked as you leaned over to his desk “kissing is great why?” you booped his nose “just curious” you went back to your desk beside him and he looked at you for a long moment, why did you ask him that?

The rest of the day passed by slower than ever for Bokuto, he sat inside his head, overthinking why you asked him about kissing and at the end of the day, the end of a terrible practice, he had convinced himself that you wanted to kiss someone else and he’d never get to kiss you himself.

“baby Bo what happened?” you ask as you walk up to him in the hallway, he was holding the straps of his backpack as he looked to the ground “nothing. I’m fine” he said quietly, avoiding your eyes. You walk up to him and take his hands, wrapping them around your waist as you pulled him into a hug “tell me Kou” you whispered and he sighed into your hold “long day, shitty practice, just too in my head today” he whispers and you run your fingers through his still damp from his shower hair. “What happened to put you in your head? You were so shiny this morning” you ask and rub circles on his back, the people in the hallway have all but disappeared now, heading home like you will be soon.

“You’ll think im dumb” he whispers and you shake your head “never Kou, I promise.” he sighs and stands up from your hug and sighs again, rubbing his face with his hands “i thought your question about kissing means you want to kiss a lot of people” you take a beat to think of why that could make him sad and you smile softly, taking his hands in yours “and why did that make you sad?” you ask in a hushed tone and his cheeks flush “i dont want you to want to kiss everyone but me” he mumbles out with furrowed brows and a pout. You laugh and cup his cheeks “oh Kou, i ONLY want to kiss you” you say and watch as his eyes go from confusion to recognition to bright and bubbly bokuto again “HEY HEY HEY” he shouts and you laugh “i knew i had it in me” he says slightly cockily and you keep laughing as you hug him, burying your face in his chest. “I don't want to make you sad Bo, talk to me if you ever get sad because of me okay?” you cup his cheeks seriously and he nods “from now on, i promise” he says before he leans down and presses his lips to yours

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wkemeup · 4 years

Text

Crawl Home to Her

summary: Stranded without coms, alone, and bleeding out in the middle of a Russian snow storm, Bucky is content to let nature take its course. Only you won’t seem to let him go. pairing: bucky x reader word count: 8k warnings: passive suicidal thoughts, hallucinations, ghosts???, its all very confusing but humor me ok, a/n: based on Work Song by Hozier ✨

No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her

Laid amongst old wooden floors rotted in decades of weathering and the whistling brush of wind sweeping in steady drift of snow from the open doorway, Bucky wondered whether he might have preferred the coffin of ice Hydra once shoved him in for storage.

The chill nestled deep into his bones and he tried not to focus on the small puff of breath as it touched over chapped, cracked lips. It was the only warmth he had left and that, too, was leaving him.

It was getting hard to breath under the sting of freezing temperatures barreling into the cabin; sharp, like crystals had formed in his lungs and punctured into his chest from the inside. The fireplace long extinguished, his rifle laid in a heap amongst his tactical vest and gear too far out of reach. He was unprepared when the mercenaries barreled in through the windows, leaving shattered glass along the floor, safe house exposed to the elements of a Russian winter.

He’d stopped shaking an hour ago, which he knew was a bad sign. His body had given up on fabricating false heat through the tremors in his arm and legs, the twitches of his breaths, the chattering of his teeth. The serum only did so much before he was left with the frayed remnants of his humanity to cover the slack.

Bucky’s fingers dipped down and glazed over a thick, warm pool at his stomach. He pulled his hand back to find an unsettling, deep red coating his skin. It was warm to the touch and it dripped down along his fingertips into his palms, soaking into the dried patches.

A violent cough suddenly broke through his chest and Bucky’s head fell back to the floorboards, a dull ache in his stomach from the effort. He could taste copper on his tongue as a fuzziness began to take over, like he was floating on the edge of a cloud, somewhere high up in the sky. It was a pleasant feeling, he decided, a break from the world that had not shown him kindness in nearly a century.

He stared up at the ceiling, at the blades of a fan lined in decades of dust, as it spun around and around and around and around and —

“What the hell are you doing?”

Bucky jolted awake, a sharp flinch through this nervous system like the current of electricity. Eyes wide open, he turned to find a figure sitting on the loveseat to his left. The fabric was torn in the trajectory of dozens of bullets, cotton lining oozing out the cushions and littered amongst the snow. It was too dark to see but the dim flicker of the swaying light in the kitchen illuminated the corner for only a second. It was enough to still his heart.

“Y/n?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, a scowl on your face as lips pursed together.

“Hey Buck.”

No.

No. That—that can’t be right...

You were wearing a SHEILD crewneck with a rip on the hem of the sleeve, faded in color from the wash, and a pair of sleep shorts he’d seen you in dozens of times. The slight imprint of a pillow case fold on your cheek, your hair a little out of place in sleep, and cast in the glow of sunshine through his bedroom window despite the stars littering the night sky outside the cabin’s door.

It was what you were wearing when he left on assignment two weeks prior. He knew because he memorized every moment he left you behind.

There was always that uncertainty, that knowledge that every mission could be his last, so he took the time to bring you with him; a memory, an image, of you laying under rustled sheets, curled up against his pillow with that pout on your lips as you told him ‘five more minutes, baby’ when he was already ten late.

He held that memory close because he could feel himself slipping. The blood pooling at his stomach was seeping into the floor beneath him and he felt dizzy, the spin of the fan above him throwing him off balance even as he laid completely still. It was the last good thing he had left -- this image of you -- because he knew it was time to let go, time to let the universe make things right again, to take him from the time he never belonged in.

There was a relief in that... almost.

"You’re not giving up, are you?”

Bucky gritted his teeth as your voice pulled him back sharply from the edge of dreamless sleep. He glanced over to you and found there wasn’t a trace of goosebumps on your skin amongst the snow sliding along the floorboards by your feet. You were unbothered by the rush of wind barreling in through the open door though it picked up in the small wisps of your hair, carrying them away from your face before it settled again.

“This isn’t happening. You’re not real,” Bucky chanted under his breath, but the way you were looking at him—Jesus—he'd seen that look too many times before. The pinch of your brows, the slight tug of your cheek between your teeth, your eyes narrowing down on him from a distance, never in anger, but determination.

Bucky closed his eyes, clenched his jaw real tight, but he could still hear as you push yourself up off the couch, the slight squeak of floorboards under your feet as you paced. Bucky dared to steal a glimpse and you were kneeling down over one of the mercenaries he was able to get a shot in before hell broke loose. You pursed your lips, tilted your head just so, and pulled off his helmet to get a better look. It rolled a good few feet before it hit a sudden stop against the edge of the couch.

It was the wind, he told himself. His mind was playing tricks on him again.

“Jesus, they make ‘em big around here,” you murmured to yourself before you pressed two fingers to the side of the man's neck. You started ruffling through his pockets for weapons and Bucky could hear the jingle of coins in his pockets, the swish of the fabric. He was certain he’d gone mad.

“You need to get warm, Buck,” you told him and a coat dropped down on his left. “You’ll die if you don’t.”

“You’re not real,” he argued, keeping his eyes closed, hoping that you’d just disappear and let him die in peace. “You’re... you’re in my head.”

It was hard enough knowing he was going to die in Russia of all places before you ever knew he was in trouble, hard enough to imagine you crying over his body as his skin paled to blue and grey, hard enough that he’d already said his last goodbye, already had the last kiss from your lips…

“It doesn’t matter if I’m in your head or not, Bucky,” you warned, though he was almost certain he could feel the warmth of your breath touch his skin as you leaned down next to him. “You’ll die if you stay here. Do you understand? You’ll die."

Your hand slid into his hair and he could feel the trace of your fingertips, your nails, on his scalp; combing through locks matted in blood and dirt and drawing shivers in his spine untouched by the cold.

He whimpered, tears burning at the corner of his eyes, because you were right there and somehow not at all. He didn’t want to say goodbye but his energy was draining. It slipped from him in every breath, the pain becoming a tired memory and he knew his body was giving in.

He’d spent so much time fighting in his life. He just wanted to rest. That’s all. Just some time to rest...

“Bucky!”

He snapped awake, heart beating frantically for a few minutes before it lulled again; his breaths too short, too far apart.

You were hovering over him, hair falling down into your face and there was real fear in your eyes. Your hands settled on his chest, trying to draw his attention back to you and he was certain he could feel the pressure of it, the grip of your fingers to the fabric of his shirt. The touch of a ghost.

“You need to get up. We’ve got to get you out of here,” you ordered, hands fumbling for the coat you dropped by his side and trying to drape it over him, but he pushed your hands away. You sat back on your heels, wide eyed, desperate.

“I’m already dying, sweetheart,” Bucky choked out, voice raspy and raw. “There's nothing left to do. Coms are out... nearest town is a dozen miles away... I’m-- fuck—I've got at least four bullets in me. This is it, honey. I’m-- I’m sorry...”

It hurt as he said it and he dared himself to meet your eye. Draped in sunlight and all that was ever good in his life, you were an ethereal wonder; a stunning image of the women he left behind, even if his mind was fading on the edge of insanity. It was nice, he thought, to see this memory of you one last time, to hold onto it tighter as the darkness gently carried him away from this world.

His hand lifted slowly, wanting to touch you one last time, and he was surprised when it didn’t slip straight through you like a ghost, but instead, landed tenderly against your cheek. So tangible, warm to icy chill of his hand, he could feel the clench in your jaw, the strain of the muscle, the divot of a scar by your ear.

A final blessing he didn’t deserve.

“Bullshit.”

He winced as you grabbed a firm hold of his wrist and pulled it from your face. Everything started to hurt again, in his chest, his stomach. He was falling apart.

“I’m so sorry, honey, I’m—I’m not making it out of—”

“Bull. Shit.”

You slammed your hands to the floor beside him and suddenly, you were up and rummaging through the kitchen, tossing old utensils around and making a mess of the withering cabinets. You tore them to shreds, emptied the drawers onto the floor, the shattering of glass and the crash of metal to tile in an unsettling scream.

“You don’t get to do this. Do you hear me? Not after all you went through! Just to die in fucking Russia!”

Bucky swallowed though it tasted like bile. You tossed out the mugs from a cabinet with the swipe of your hand and the sound they made as they crashed to the floor skipped several beats in Bucky’s dimly beating heart.

“Sweetheart,” Bucky tried again, voice falling on empty, a whisper, “no one’s comin’...”

“Then you fucking get up and get to a goddamn phone!”

You froze then, your hand curling around whatever you were looking for with a sigh of relief. As you stomped back over to him, Bucky looked down at your grasp to find two sets of hand towels and an ace bandage clutched in your grip.

You were grumbling under your breath as you sank down to your knees. Hands shaking, you pushed up at the thin fabric of Bucky’s shirt. He didn’t even hiss as the cold air touched his skin. That wasn’t good.

You pressed a towel to his open wounds, hard enough for Bucky to groan at the impact and he bit down hard on his tongue. There was no apology as you wiped away the pools of blood, tossing aside the soaked towel to the corner and pressing down a new one in its place. You were angry, furious even, and Bucky had only seen you like this once before.

The Hydra base in Siberia. He was surrounded, ordering you to get back to the jet without him though he had no clear path to an exit. It was a diversion, one you saw through instantly, because he had no intention of leaving that warehouse, not as long as you made it out alive. You almost killed him yourself by the time the last Hydra agent fell to the floor. Panting, covered in blood, you had slapped him hard across the face before you gripped at his shoulders and kissed him.

The first kiss between you.

The beginning of it all.

Fitting it should end like this, too.

“Sit up,” you demanded, pulling Bucky back from his memories.

He sighed as he stared up at you, your teeth gritted as you pressed down harder to his wounds. Everything hurt. He couldn’t move, could barely breathe.

“Sit. Up.”

“I can’t,” he whimpered, voice breaking in the effort. “I-- I can't, honey. I’m sorry. Just—Just let me go. It’s time, Y/n. It’s okay…”

There was a silence, one that carried over the scream of the wind outside and the scratch of tree branches against the shattered windowpanes. Bucky’s own breaths were shallow, raw and wheezing through his lungs, and they sat in pained contrast to your silent, elongated inhales, the seconds you held them before you released it. He could have heard a pin drop even over the whistling wind and the mess in his chest.

“No.”

Bucky swallowed back the dryness in his throat. “No?”

“No,” you gritted out, sinking back onto your heels. “No! You don’t get to just give up, Bucky. You don’t get to leave me behind!”

“You’re not even here...”

You clenched your teeth, biting on the inside of your cheek. “Maybe not. But you know exactly where I am back home, don’t you?”

Bucky’s jaw wired shut in an instant. It was what he’d been avoiding, why he clung so hard to the image of you as he left, the glow of the sunlight on your skin and the sleepy mess in your hair. The perfect memory to take when him as he died, but it was being ripped from him, torn away in an instant because as you knelt beside him, your ghost began to change.

Dark circles colored under your eyes, a sunken look hollowing in at your cheeks and temples. Your hair fell down from the bun at your crown and braided down the side, a nervous habit you’d taken up to keep your hands busy when you were anxious. Lines formed on your lips, cracking along the center; broken skin now exposed on your knuckles from a restless night in the gym.

Tear tracks burned down your cheeks; some old, some fresh, and your eyes were bloodshot red.

“Please, stop,” he begged, trying to will his mind to give him the memory he had before.

“You know what this is doing to me,” you told him. “You missed your checkpoint eight hours ago, Bucky. We both know what that means. We both know I’m scared out of my mind for you. I’m panicking. I’m desperate to find you and you’re going to give up before I can.”

Bucky closed his eyes, choking back tears as he pictured you frantically pacing back and forth in the intel room next to Steve, waiting by the satellite phone, waiting on a call that would never come. His coms had been destroyed in the shootout, torn and shattered under the boot of a Russian enforcer. There was no way to get word to you, no way for you to track his location. He was entirely on his own.

You would have figured that out by now, too.

He could practically hear your voice as you shouted for an update every few minutes, biting the head off of an Agent who dared to give you any answer outside of Bucky being found safe and on his way home to you. He could see you clenching at your fists, digging your nails into flesh, and shrugging off Steve as he tried to ease your distress. You’d be terrified, with a deep kind of unsettling dread burning like a hole in your stomach. He knew, because it was how he felt when you were on assignment. It was agonizing.

“Don’t do this, Bucky,” you said quietly, softer now, begging. “Don’t give up. Don’t—Don’t leave me.”

He could hardly keep his eyes open, every breath drawing him further away.

“You’ll be okay,” he said slowly, achingly, though a flash of shock widened your eyes. “You’ll be okay without me.”

Bucky’s fingers crawled along the floor to you, nails digging through a mess of blood and splinters before the curled sweetly around the palm of your hand. He squeezed it gently, the most he could manage, and he watched with a fading smile as you stared down to where he held you.

“How could you say that?” you whispered, gaze glued to blood stained hands. You swallowed, a tear slipping past your eye as you turned to find ocean blue. “How could you possibly think that would be true? You’re my life, Bucky. I need you. You can’t—Please, baby. You have to come home to me. You have to.”

“You’ll move on,” he exhaled, closing his eyes as the exhaustion started to pull him under. “It might take some time, but you’ll be fine, honey. You don’t need me. You never did.”

“That’s not true—”

“You were always too good for me,” he chuckled sadly to himself. “At least now you can find someone who really deserves you…”

“Dammit, Bucky!” you cried, hands gripping into the fabric of his shirt and shaking him until he opened his eyes again. “You don’t get to just throw your life away because you have some backwards, fucked up notion that you’re not good enough to love me because newsflash, you idiot, I don’t care! I love you! I love every goddamn part of you and there is not a person on this planet, or any other, that I want to love me the way that you do!”

There was a silence that followed. The whistling wind and the scratch of branches on exposed windows the only solace between you. Your features softened, your hands releasing from his shirt and you gently patted his shoulder, running your fingers along his neck to touch the side of his face. He leaned into the palm of your head, jaw quivering as he bit back tears.

“Why are you here?” he whimpered, voice cracking as a sob crawled its way through his spine. “Why-- Why won’t you just let me go?”

Tears spilled out the corners of Bucky’s sides, sliding down along his temples and soaking into his hair. He was exhausted and aching and – god—he just wanted to sleep.

You smiled sweetly at him, brushed the hair from his eyes. “It’s you, Bucky, don’t you get that? I’m in your head, remember? I’m apart of you. Stop fighting yourself and come with me. Let me help you survive this. It’s why you brought me here in the first place.”

“No... that’s…” Bucky shook his head, heart racing a little faster, “that’s crazy.”

“Crazier than talking to yourself?” you chuckled light-heartedly. “It’s been you this whole time, Buck. Look.”

You gestured to the floor leading into the kitchen, and sure enough, there was a trail of bloody footprints in the size of his combat boots leading into the mess of shattered mugs and scattered utensils. His palms had tiny pieces of broken glass in them, colored in the paint of the kitchenware on the floor.

Then, you showed him the wrapped bandage at his stomach, the one with his own bloody fingerprints at the clasp. He’d done it all himself.

“Your imagination can’t do all that for you, baby,” you said, a soft smile on your face, though it faded to something solemn as he stared at you in shock. “You’re dying, Buck, really dying and I know you’re scared. I know you want to come home. Stop fighting me. Stop fighting yourself.”

“I don’t--” he swallowed, though his throat was dry and it burned amongst the cold air, “I don’t understand…”

“The mind is a funny thing,” you shrugged. “It does what it has to, to keep you alive. This is what you needed, to be reminded of the love you have waiting for you back home when you survive this.”

You nodded to the edge of the cabin, and sure enough, there was Steve standing at the door. Hands tucked into his pockets, wearing the thin white shirt and suspenders from their youth, though it looked a little funny now on the man he was today. He was smiling, that hopeful kind of look in his eye that Bucky never quite learned how to replicate.

Sam stood next to him, hand on Steve’s shoulder, smirk plastered across his face as he nodded at Bucky; the strange and varying brotherhood between the two of them full of bickering fights and unbridled loyalty.

Natasha was on Sam’s left, arms folded, scowl present as her eyes flickered down to the mess of bodies littering the floor. She raised an eyebrow at the burly looking soldier you’d rummaged through the pocket of— or, or maybe it was Bucky, he was still trying to wrap his head around it – and nodded as if she were impressed.

Then, there was Shuri and T’Challa. Lang and Barton. Wanda and Vision. Peter Parker sneaking his way in behind Steve, looking just damn excited to be standing in the presence of Captain America. Even Tony Stark stood in the corner of the cabin; arms crossed, sunglasses on, observing from a careful distance, but still present.

“You’re not alone, Bucky,” you said quietly, drawing his attention back to you. “Not here. Not at home. Please don’t give up on your family. Don’t give up on all you’ve built. We’re waiting for you, honey. Come home.”

A blur in his vision, Bucky couldn’t quite focus on your silhouette, not until you tenderly brushed the tears from his eyes, droplets on the edges of long lashes. He clenched his jaw, searching for a stronger breath as you held his face. Your lips pressed down to his forehead and he found his strength again.

“Okay.”

Bucky grabbed onto the edge of the couch and pulled until his muscles were at their limit. A scream tore threw him, his body raw and broken and falling apart at the seams. It burned in his throat, in his chest, and it echoed deep into the empty cabin. It was no louder than the wind outside.

“Okay,” he repeated as he sat up with his back pressed against the couch. He clutched at his stomach, heavy breaths in his lungs. The bandages were holding up, with little leakage onto his palm in all the effort.

When he looked back over to you, he found you smiling, proud, though your appearance had changed again.

Your hair was pulled down to a bun at the nape of your neck, a few strands falling out the sides. Dressed in a large winter coat with a thick fur around the hood and mittens on your hands; the navy-blue jacket you’d worn in your mission in the Swiss Alps last year where you’d convinced Bucky to stick around a few extra days in the blizzarding cold. You’d told him then how much you loved the snow, the mountains, but mostly the hot chocolate, the fireplaces, the snuggling in close to him at night. It was a pleasant memory.

Bucky smiled back at you, though it took most of his strength. He turned to look at Steve and the rest of his family, but they were gone, disappeared to thin air and his stomach lurched as he quickly shot his eyes back to you.

“You ready, baby?” you asked him sweetly, nodding towards the door.

“Stay with me. Please.” He felt childish as the words left him, talking to what amounted to nothing more than particles of snowfall and thin air, but it carried his whole world.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you replied, as if it was never a choice at all, and you offered your hand.

Bucky nodded, stringing together all the strength he had left in his body and slipped his hand into yours. He tried not to think of the logistics of it all, how he was really getting up on his own because you weren’t here to tug him to his feet. It created a dull ache in the back of his head and he figured he better not mess with the remaining functioning pieces of himself. Let his mind get him through this, even if he felt absolutely insane.

“Put the jacket on, honey,” you told him, bending down to grab the coat of the mercenary you’d swiped earlier. “It’ll be a long walk in the cold.”

“Y-yeah, okay.”

The wind barreled in from the open door and it pushed at the little balance Bucky had left, leaving him to sway unsteadily, grunting at the pain that resulted in his stomach. He clutched at the wrapped bandages, relieved when fresh blood did not add to the stains on his fingers and palm.

“Time to go,” you urged him, nodding to the door. “Let’s get you home, yeah?”

Bucky stared out into the blanket of darkness beyond the door, the snow falling and dancing amongst the violent sweeps of wind, illuminated by starlight untouched by the pollution of a city. He didn’t know where to go, but you promised you’d guide him; a piece of his subconscious that must have picked up on a sign along the road at some point, he figured.

As he made his way to the brutal cold, shivers tremoring in his spine and his feet limping dragging along the floor, facing a journey across miles of exposed land, he was thankful he wasn’t alone.

***

Bucky had never been so cold in his goddamn life; not even when Hydra would put him on ice.

It had been a relief then, a dreamless sleep and safety away from his captures, but this – this was torture in itself. His boots dragged through two feet of snow, the winds picking up the further he trudged out into the darkness. He wrapped the scarf tighter around his face, trying to shield himself from the cold, though ice crystals had formed on his lashes.

Everything hurt and each step was more painful than the last, but he kept moving.

“You’re almost there!” you shouted over the scream of the wind in his ears. You were smiling, jogging out a few paces ahead. It was easier for his feet to carry him when it was you he was walking towards. “Come on, sweetheart. One more mile. That’s it.”

Bucky panted, his breaths far too labored, his head feeling quite fuzzy, but as he looked over your shoulder, he spotted a light in the distance. Blurred by the snowfall, but still clear as day. A gas station with half the letters missing in its name. His saving grace.

“I’m coming, baby,” he whispered and for the first time, he wasn’t talking to the mirage beside him, but the woman waiting thousands of miles away.

Picking up in pace, Bucky pushed himself harder than he’d ever tested the limits of his body before. He knew that without the serum, he would have been dead before he even left the cabin. There were few moments Bucky was ever thankful for the hell he’d been through. This – giving him a second chance to get home to the love of his life – was one of them.

“Careful,” you warned him, gesturing to the trail of red droplets in his wake; blood that had seeped out from the soaked bandages at his stomach and trailed down under his coat to the snow below, marking his path.

Bucky nodded, determined as he finally broke through to solid ground, to dirt roads plowed just enough from the snow, and sprinted the rest of the way. You were on his heels, cheering him on like you did when he first got back on a treadmill after he broke his leg in New Mexico last year. He was smiling so wide it hurt his cheeks, laughing as artificial light illuminated his path.

He shoved his shoulder to the door, winced at the sound of the bell above, and charged straight up to the counter.

A man in a thick overcoat and a fur hat stood behind the counter, reading a newspaper quietly to himself, and paid no mind to the man frantically rushing up to him. He glanced up in Bucky’s direction, eyes flickering to the blood trailing in his wake, before turning back to his paper.

“Phone,” Bucky panted. “I need a phone.”

The man didn’t respond.

“Russian, Buck,” you reminded him quietly to his right.

“фона,” Bucky tried again, slamming his hand down on the table.

The man rolled his eyes and set the paper down. Stone cold expression, he took his time as he muddled around behind the counter, leaving Bucky on edge. You nodded at him, running a hand along his arm to keep him calm.

Then, the man set a flip phone down on the counter. He didn’t say another word as he sat back onto his stool and picked up the paper again.

Bucky grabbed the phone and quickly stumbled his way back to the far end of the convenience stores. Brushing up against rows of chips and shouldered a few to the ground, he was starting to lose his balance again. The dizziness was kicking in and it became evident as he tried to dial the SHEILD emergency call number and kept hitting the wrong numbers.

“Breathe,” you said softly as Bucky started to panic. “Try again.”

Deep inhale in, Bucky typed the ten digits and held the phone to his ear. It rang three times.

“Good morning,” a voice replied, deep and clinical, “this is Sandbox Bakery. What can I get for you?”

Bucky leaned his forehead to the glass of the freezers, cold compress on his skin touching a blaze of heat.

When did he start sweating? When did it start to soak through his clothes?

There was a stickiness under his feet and Bucky glanced down to find blood dripping down from the edge of his coat and staining the dull-white of the plaster floors. Dark red seeping into the cracks between tiles, filtering through years of dirt and dust and muddied tracks. The outline of his boots in perfect pattern.

“Good morning,” the voice said again, “this is Sandbox Bakery. What can I get for you?”

Bucky swallowed, trying to find his voice, but he was sure he’d left it behind in the cabin. He could hardly hold himself up, his hand slipping on the handle of the freezer doors, nearly taking him down to the ground amongst the blood and dirt.

Under hooded, heavy eyes, Bucky glanced over at you as you nodded encouragingly at him, but there was two of you; swaying over one another, blurred, out of focus.

“Good morning, this is—”

“Baklava,” Bucky muttered the code word between labored breaths, the meaning of it sitting somewhere along the line of I shouldn’t be alive but I am – Fucking come get me. The dizziness was starting to take hold on his body and he leaned his shoulder against the freezer doors in search of the cold glass to offset the burning heat on his skin.

A darkness started to tunnel at his vision, thick black rings closing in around him and he tried to grip at the handles on the doors, but he missed each time; his fingers too weak to grip onto the edge, his vision swaying and doubling over.

The agent on the other end of the phone was asking him questions, but they barely registered, like white noise no louder than the burrowing winds past the door. Bucky clutched at the handle, phone slipping from his grasp as it fell to the ground. He stumbled backwards, hitting a tower of plastic cups as they collapsed around him.

“Bucky, lie down,” you warned gently as he struggled to hold himself up.

“I’m—I’m okay,” he gasped, voice barely a whisper, unintelligible, before the darkness caved in completely and he met the floor.

***

When Bucky came to again, it was to hands gripping harshly at his arms, at his legs, dragging his body onto a rock-hard surface that smelled of plastic and the sting of sterilizing alcohol. Pain ripped through his stomach at the sudden movement and he whimpered quietly, painful breaths in, lips quivering as he tried to bite down hard on the dried, cracked surface; the movement jarring enough to make him wish he was back in the cabin amongst the snow and broken glass.

But there was a hand encasing his. One that was soft, impossibly gentle, a slight squeeze, and Bucky realized there were voices around him. Muffled, barking orders, but they were distant, like an echo at the edge of a ravine. They were too far away for him to hear.

All except one.

“Stop it! Jesus, you’re hurting him,” one of the voices warned; soft and melodic, even within the tension, within the slight tremor of panic. It was a voice that called to him, as the grip on his forearm tightened, and Bucky forced his eyes open.

He was seeing double, couldn’t quite focus on what was right in front of him, but he could see the three agents dressed in black combat vests huddled over him, strapping him on the stretcher while a petite Englishwoman with mousey brown hair and slender fingers worked to stabilize the mess at his stomach.

Then, he focused on the voice to his left, the kind voice, the familiar voice – yours.

“We’ve got to get him out of here, Simmons,” you urged, glancing back at the doors to the shop and the chaos of broken aisles in between. “God knows how long he’s been here like this...”

“I just need to stabilize him before we make a break for the jet,” the woman with the quiet English accent replied. She pressed down hard on Bucky’s stomach and he was surprised to find he didn’t feel a thing.

Bucky swallowed back the dryness in his throat, trying to find his own voice, catch your attention in some way, but you didn’t seem to notice him watching you.

“It’s been ten hours since he missed the checkpoint. Ten hours,” you stressed, your free hand reaching up to brush back hairs from your face, tucking them behind your ear. It was then Bucky noticed the braid sitting over your shoulder, the dark tactical suit, and the discoloration under your eyes. There were marks in the shape of crescent moons on your hand from where you’d dug your nails to your skin. You looked tired, scared; it was different than how you appeared when Bucky collapsed.

You gritted your teeth, brushing away tears Bucky so desperately wanted to reach to wipe away if he could only move.

“We don’t know how much blood he’s lost or— or if he has internal bleeding or--”

You froze suddenly, words pulled right out of your mouth as Bucky’s hand twitched under your grip. Slowly, you turned to meet his eye with a kind of panicked shock and relief and an array of complex emotion.

“Bucky?”

He nodded, a weak smile on his face.

You nearly cried. “Oh, thank God you’re--”

“You stayed,” Bucky muttered, voice groggy and slurred. A tired smile etching up against broken lips.

You blinked, biting back your tongue as your eyes shot over at Simmons. She shrugged, working quietly to reseal the bandages at Bucky’s stomach. There was a smile on Bucky’s lips, broken and cracked in dried blood, almost hazy, like he was floating high above in the clouds.

“Honey, I’m here now,” you told him, voice a little cautious, but Bucky shook his head, though his vision was starting to leave him again, the comforting pull of darkness wrapping its arm around him.

“You... you really stayed with me...” His voice was barley a whisper.

Your eyes widened, a fear taking over and your quickly snapped your attention back to the agents surrounding him.

"We need to get him out of here, now,” you ordered as Bucky’s eyes started to flutter closed again and he did not return the grip to your hand when you squeezed. Sudden movements and he was lifted into the air, though your grip on his hand did not leave him.

He fell back to the darkness before the cold air of Russian winter could touch his skin.

***

The first thought Bucky registered was that he was warm. Not warm enough for sweat to form on his brow, but enough so that a chill didn’t press its way into his bones, enough that the thin layer of a freshly washed blanket draped over his legs chased away the goosebumps on his arms.

He blinked his eyes open gently to take in the stream of light from the window to his left and the reflection held against bare, white walls. The room was not one he knew and quiet murmuring of strangers passing by outside in a language he couldn’t place didn’t help the rush of panic etching up through his veins.

Bucky turned to his left to see a monitor carrying his heartrate and the increasingly frantic rhythm of his pulse. There was a bruised mark on his right forearm around an IV that stemmed to a bag hanging over his head.

Could be filled with anything, he reminded himself. Always on the defense. It was how he stayed alive.

A hand settled against his stomach to find it wrapped in bandages, no longer searing in pain, but still sore; a dull ache left behind to remind him it was real, that he’d been shot and left for dead in the frozen wastelands of Russia, that he’d walked miles alone in a blizzard and found comfort in the ghost of –

Bucky jolted upright, a hiss pulling swiftly from clenched teeth as a sharp pain reemerged at his stomach. He groaned, breaths coming in a little heavier now as he glanced around the empty room. Up at the open door ahead of him, he watched as stray physicians and nurses passed by in white lab coats talking quietly amongst themselves in... German, maybe? His brain was too foggy to register much of anything.

“Y/n?” he called in search of your ghost, but his voice was too weak, he could barely hear it himself.

Kicking the blankets away from his legs, Bucky felt a chill sweep up his spine. The pain was excruciating, but he’d been through worse. He ripped the IV from his arm. He kept his hands gripped tight to the mattress, setting his bare feet to the cold floor and wincing as the pain in his stomach worsened with every movement.

But he needed to get out of here. He needed to get home to you. He’d promised.

He set his stance to the ground, careful to hold himself up on the edge of the bedframe, but his legs were shaky under him, muscles unused and tired and so incredibly useless, his left hand started to warp the plastic of the railing in his frustration.

“Bucky?”

Wide eyes shot to the door to find you standing in its frame, a Styrofoam cup of coffee in your hand, lips parted in shock. Your hair was swept to the side in a long braid, dark circles hanging under your eyes, your clothes wrinkled with days of use.

He tried to speak, but suddenly, his hold on the bed frame gave out. The smell of dark roasted coffee beans filled the air before he even met the ground and his skin touched the ice of tile flooring. Sharp pain in his hip and a heat of embarrassment in his cheeks, Bucky tried to find an ounce of his dignity on the ground.

You slid up on your knees beside him; coffee cup noticeably missing from your hands as it laid in a puddle by the door to his room.

“Jesus, Buck, what were you thinking?” you gasped, hands roaming down over his arms, fingers warm to the touch from the coffee you’d held between your palms. A worry line creased in your forehead, lip tugged between your teeth as you grazed your touch over his face, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones and jawline in concentration as you inspected for damage.

Bucky closed his eyes, a little lost in the feeling of it as he leaned into your touch, missing you and wondering how he could possibly feel that heat from your skin.

“You’re lucky you didn’t reopen your stitches,” you murmured, hands touching gently at his wrapped bandaged around his waist. It was still white, at least, so that was something. The scowl on your face was a comfort, something familiar, and he was thankful to have it.

But there were small differences he noticed as you tried to help him back up into the bed. Like how when the light from the window touched your skin, it reflected a little differently, got caught in your eyes and you’d have to squint away from it. Or how there was a new scratch on your jawline he hadn’t seen before. You huffed a hair away from your face as you struggled to life him back to his feet and it fell back into your line of sight almost instantly.

“Give me a sec, I’ll be right back,” you told him before you pressed a quick kiss to his forehead, hands sinking into his hair. It felt so real, he almost convinced himself you were really there.

When you came back into the room, a nurse was at your side, hands planted firmly on her lips.

“I thought you were joking,” the nurse huffed in a thick German accent, exchanging a glance with you. You shrugged, scowl present but lips curved up in a smirk. The nurse groaned, sinking down to the floor to grab Bucky’s arm. “Why would I expect a man who’s been under for nearly a week to just up and walk out the room? Huh? I wouldn’t! No one is that foolish, Sergeant Barnes.”

You were laughing quietly beside her as you helped to guide Bucky back up into the bed. As he settled back into place, he found himself watching you intently as you conversed with the nurse. She told you keep your eyes on him, that he was a flight risk, and that she’d be back to check on him again soon. You nodded, thanking her for her time and quickly pulled up a chair beside his bed.

“You've got terrible timing. You know that, right?” you chuckled, shaking your head. “I haven’t left this room for days, Buck, and the second I go to get coffee, you decide to wake up.”

“How long?” he asked quietly and the smile faded from your cheeks.

“Five days,” you told him. “Almost six.”

“Longer since I missed the checkpoint, then,” he reasoned, pinching at his brows. “We should get moving again. I’ve got to get home.”

“What? No,” you said quickly, leaning forward in your chair in an attempt to set your hand on him, but he pushed it away. It seemed to surprise you because you paused for a moment before you said, “Bucky, you’re still healing. You need time before we can—”

“I didn’t almost bleed out in a goddamn cabin in middle of Russia just to end up trapped in some hospital in Germany and still not make it home!”

Bucky threw the blanket off of him again, pushing himself to the edge.

You rushed forward, grabbed a hold of his shins before he could swing his legs off the side of the bed. Your grip was forceful, but not enough to hurt. You planted your hip down on the bed to block his path.

“We’re staying here, Buck,” you pressed, a slight tremor in your voice. “You almost died.”

“Why are you arguing with me about this now?” Bucky groaned and the flash of confusion on your face went unnoticed. “You’re the one that convinced me I had get home, aren’t you? You’re the one who wouldn’t just let me die and made me walk into a fuckin’ blizzard while I was bleeding out! I have to get home to you, right? That’s what you said! I’m not giving up on her – or, or us – or... fuck it— on myself, ok? Whether you’re with me or not. I have to get home to her. Even if I have to fucking crawl.”

Through the frantic swelling in his chest, the heavy pants of his breath, and the dizziness forming back in his head, Bucky didn’t register how quiet you’d become until his eyes flickered over to you. Your body was rigid, lips parted just slightly, a semblance of shock in your eyes and Bucky’s stomach sank.

“Is that... Is that what you meant when you said ‘I stayed with you’? Back in the gas station in Russia? Do you... Do you think you’re just imagining me here?” you asked slowly and a burning heat ached into his cheeks. Something like shame or embarrassment or guilt, but none of it stronger than the relief that coursed through his veins as your hand reached out for him, fingers encasing his. Smaller than his own, warmer, and so real he could feel the divots of your lifeline and old scars and the soothing trace of your nails. Tangible. Real.

“I...” Bucky started, stealing a glance up at your eyes before they darted back down to your hands wrapped so tenderly around him. He exhaled a heavy breath. “I don’t know.”

“Oh, honey,” you sighed, bringing his hands up to your lips and kissing sweetly at his knuckles. You pressed the chill of his fist to your cheek and he could feel the warmth burning there. The way you watched him, with eyes so filled with the kind of love and adoration he’d longed for his entire life, it was enough to mend his heart whole.

“I’m here, Bucky,” you whispered, another kiss to the tips of his fingers and it took the breath straight from his lungs. “I’m really here, honey. Your mind isn’t playing tricks on you anymore. You’re not alone.”

Bucky nodded, watching as you peppered kissed along his hands, over flesh and metal like they were one in the same.

“It felt so real...” he murmured, sinking into the way your hand stretched up along his arm, rising over his neck like the crest of ocean waves, and rested to his cheek. He leaned further into the touch.

“I know,” you soothed, your thumb tracing over his cheekbone. “But I’m here now, love. You found your way home.”

Bucky nodded, shifting in the bed just enough for you to crawl in beside him. The dull ache in his stomach lingered, but he didn’t mind, not when you curled up into the crook of his neck, your hand gliding down over the marred scarring on his shoulder, your breath warm against his collar.

“Home,” he echoed, the word slipping from behind broken lips, a curve of a smile etching into his cheeks. He leaned his cheek to the crown of your head, eyes closing in a relief that spread through his chest and through the very ends of his body in a gentle kind of warmth he could only ever hope to find with you resting in his arms.

He found his way home.

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