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wildwestdean · 9 months ago

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impetus

summary: dean gets targeted by a witch while working a case, and she curses him to yearn for what he secretly loves the most. it seems to have no effect, until it's pointed out that he can't seem to stay away from you - but what happens when he tries to fight it?

pairing: dean winchester x female reader

word count: 9.4k+

warnings: violence, hunting/working a case, mentions of murders, gore, evil witches, reader and dean get attacked, swearing, alcohol consumption, angst, fluff, yearning, mutual pining, idiots oblivious to their own feelings, magical curses, hallucinations, nightmares, depictions of death, depictions of drowning, fighting/arguments, heart-to-heart, confessions, use of [y/n], nicknames, mature themes

“Right, well, this isn’t creepy at all,” Dean declared, rolling Baby to a stop before switching into park.

You both sat quietly as you surveyed the desolate building, a feeling of unease washing over you.

“Maybe we should wait for Sam,” you suggested half heartedly. He was only down at the Sheriff’s station, and it wouldn’t even take ten minutes for him to meet you here, but you knew Dean wouldn’t wait.

“No,” he said, confirming what you already knew. “Someone else is missing and this is our best lead so far. If you don’t want to go in, that's fine, but I am.”

“I’m not letting you go in there alone,” you snapped, sitting up as tall as you could despite the pit forming in your stomach.

“Awe, you worried about me, sweetheart?” Dean teased, turning to look at you with a grin; one that was effectively wiped from his face when he saw the look in your eyes. “Hey, what is it?”

“I don’t know,” you said honestly, shrugging lightly. “I just have a bad feeling about this.”

“Bad feeling like what?” he questioned, his brows knitting together.

You thought about it, trying to pinpoint what it was you felt, but you couldn’t. “Just…. don’t go wandering off,” you ended up saying- begging, more like.

“Alright,” he agreed easily. “We stick together, and we’ll be in and out before you know it.”

“Right,” you confirmed with a nod. “Let’s gear up.”

You exited the car as quietly as you could, making your way around to the back as Dean unlocked the trunk and propped up the panel to the arsenal.

“You and Sam better be right about this,” he muttered, digging out the box of witch-killing bullets.

Your mind raced through the details of the case: An exsanguinated priest, a dead nun with her tongue ripped out, the president of the high schools abstinence club found without a heart, and various livestock missing various body parts - if this wasn’t a witch, you were a little scared to find out what else it could be.

“We have to be,” you breathed out, loading your ammo.

“Can you do me a favour and sound at least a little confident?” he asked playfully, lightly nudging your arm with his own before tucking his gun into his jeans.

“Sorry,” you said sheepishly, holstering your own gun.

“It’s alright,” he said earnestly, handing you your favourite knife (one that used to be his before you claimed it as your own). “I’m just not used to seeing you so spooked.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle quietly as you took the knife from him. “I’m not used to feeling spooked.”

“We’ll make it through,” he consoled, closing up the trunk. “Just like we always do.”

“Just like we always do,” you echoed with a nod, following him towards the building.

The overgrowth brushed your calves as you made your way up the walk, and after a quick survey of the facade, Dean swung the door open after picking the lock.

“Wait!” you hissed, stopping him before he entered. “Sam does know we’re here, right?”

You watched as his shoulders shrugged before stepping inside. “Probably.”

“That’s… comforting,” you sighed, following him across the threshold.

The two of you did a quick preliminary sweep of the main level before making your way to the top floor, finding nothing of significance in any of the rooms. Making your way back down, you both stopped dead in your tracks as you heard a clatter come from beneath you.

“Of course there’s a basement,” Dean whispered. “Why wouldn’t the creepy ass witch be in the creepy ass basement of this creepy ass house?”

“How do you know she’s a creepy ass witch?” you teased, raising an eyebrow at him. “Maybe she’s hot. Or a guy. Or both.”

He faltered over his response, considering your words for a moment. “I’ll bet whatever tab you drink up at the bar once we end up ganking this bitch. She’s creepy.”

“Deal,” you grinned, wiggling your eyebrows at him.

You both chuckled, before another noise from the basement drew your attention back to the case at hand. Dean awkwardly cleared his throat before leading the way in search of the basement entrance, using the occasional noise as guidance.

“God, I hate witches,” he muttered to himself, slapping away cobwebs as he descended the stairs.

“I don’t think the witch put those webs there,” you said with a snicker.

“No, they’re just the one turning this rotting corpse of a house into a lair of evil and despair,” he hissed.

You rolled your eyes in response, unable to stop the fond smile from creeping onto your face as you made it to the bottom of the stairs.

A muffled cry caught your attention, and Dean spared you a quick look before running in the direction it came from, you hot on his heels. Coming up on a corner, he slowed to a halt and peered around the wall.

“It looks clear,” he decided after a moment. “Just be careful,” he added, continuing on his way.

Upon turning the corner, you were enveloped in the warm glow of candles, which would have been nice, had it not been for the rest of the scene. An altar lay at the far wall, burning candelabras stood in each corner of the room, and the very person you were searching for was bound and gagged in a chair in the middle of the room, surrounded by a circle of candles.

Dean cursed and muttered under his breath, surveying the room. “I’ll get him, you get the altar.“

“Okay,” you agreed, running across the room. Once you reached the altar, you couldn’t help but stare in shock and disgust for a moment as you took in the sight; all the missing body parts seemingly staring back at you from where they lay soaked in blood. It took Dean shouting your name from across the room to bring you back to your senses, and you quickly upturned the altar as Dean instructed the now freed man to get out as fast as possible and wait by the car. As soon as the contents of the altar were scattered, an ear piercing shriek came from behind you.

Quickly whirling on your heels, you were greeted by a cloaked figure, who seemingly came out of nowhere.

“What have you done?” she screamed, dropping her hood as she stared daggers into you.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you feigned innocence. “Did I ruin your big plan?”

“You ruined everything!” she shrieked, slowly approaching you. “You’ll pay for this!”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Dean called out from behind her.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this?! How many centuries passed by until the circumstances were right? I had it! I had it all! I was one spell away from seeing my love again!” she continued to scream, advancing further towards you as she ignored Dean.

“Back off, Grunhilda!” Dean roared from behind her, drawing his gun.

“No!” she shrieked, barely lifting her hand in order to easily swing his gun away - and stop you from drawing your own. “You stupid little gnat. You think you can just come in here and mess with things you don’t understand? You think you can take this from me?!”

Her shouting was drowned out by the sound of your own heart pounding in your ears, your entire body feeling like it was on fire as your throat constricted, the air leaving your lungs and not returning. You felt your bones cracking beneath your skin as your feet left the floor, and you shared a look of terror with Dean before black began to cloud the edges of your vision.

Without an effective weapon handy, Dean rushed the witch and tackled her to the floor, sending you crashing down. You met the concrete with a thud, and it knocked the rest of your senses out of you. You laid there for who knows how long, fighting off the waves of pain and nausea, willing yourself to move as you listened to the struggle happening a few feet away from you.

By the time you managed to prop yourself up, Dean was pinned down as she advanced on him, and you desperately looked around for either of your guns.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like?” you heard her ask, menace laced deep in her words. “To want something so desperately, to feel that desire within your very soul?!”

Dean struggled against her hold as you struggled to pick yourself up, to at least crawl to a weapon if you had to.

“Well you will,” she sneered, cackling to herself. “You’ll know how it feels. To have what you want the very most to be so close to you, to have it at the edge of your fingertips, only to never be able to grasp it! For it to be the only thing you can think about!”

“Shut the hell up,” Dean seethed through clenched teeth, glaring at her.

She only stepped closer towards him, cackling to herself. “Your strongest yearning, hidden deep in your heart, will nevermore be yours to part. Be it with sun or with rain, that which brings joy won’t be without pain.”

“You finished yet?” Dean interrupted, before he had the wind knocked out of him, rendering him silent.

Moving as quickly as you could without being noticed, you closed in on Dean’s pistol while the witch carried on.

“Whatever you crave you cannot say, yet you’ll seek it out be it night or day,” she continued, hovering over him. “Consider yourself lucky, you useless toad. I’ve had countless lifetimes yearning to see my love again, and I’ll spend lifetimes more. At least you only have this one measly little life to yearn for what you want.”

Grasping the gun in your hands, you carefully rose to your feet and steadied yourself to take aim. “Man, you really do talk too much,” you huffed out.

The shot rang out just as she turned towards you, though it was silenced by a roaring wind that accompanied a bright blue light. Within seconds, everything was calm and quiet again.

Fighting every urge you had to collapse back onto the floor, you trudged your way over to Dean in an attempt to help him up.

“God, I told you she’d be creepy,” he gasped out, groaning as he stood.

“You want a prize?” you asked incredulously, staring up at him.

“I wanna get the hell out of here,” he said, ushering you to take leave. “Then I want those drinks you owe me.”

After what felt like another entire day, you and Dean had dropped the victim off at the hospital, patched each other up, cleaned out the basement, showered, and filled Sam in on everything that went down.

“So… she cursed you?” Sam asked curiously, trying to understand.

“I dunno. She tried to, I guess,” Dean replied nonchalantly. “But [Y/N/N] put a bullet in her. No witch, no curse, right?”

Sam shared a brief look with you, before turning back to Dean. “Yeah, but… there was no body.”

“What?” Dean asked gruffly.

“The witch,” you said. “I shot, but she vanished. What if she isn’t dead?”

“Well, I feel normal, so I’m gonna say she’s dead,” Dean declared with a shrug. “Now, can we head to the bar? I’m in desperate need of a drink… or twelve.”

Without waiting for an answer, he quickly stood and donned his jacket before looking back at you and Sam. “You guys coming or what?”

“Oh, do I have a choice to not go?” you asked playfully.

“You can stay if you want, but your wallet comes with me,” he replied, smiling innocently.

“Alright, let’s go,” you said with a dramatic sigh, grabbing your own jacket.

Not long after, the three of you were sliding into a booth in the nearest dive, enjoying the lack of people; you guys seriously needed to decompress.

“Alright, I’ll be back,” you declared, hopping out of the booth to get the first round of drinks.

“Make sure you get a tab started!” Dean jokingly called after you.

You flipped him off in response, taking a seat at the bar after placing your order. While you waited, Sam watched as Dean grew more restless in his seat.

“Dude, what the hell is your problem?” he finally asked, eyeing Dean as he fidgeted anxiously.

“What?” Dean asked cluelessly, glancing around the bar. “I’m thirsty. She’s been gone for what, like, half an hour?”

“It’s… barely been two minutes, Dean,” Sam informed him with an amused grin.

“Yeah, well. I want my beer,” Dean mumbled, tapping his fingers on the table as he glanced around once more. “I’m gonna go see if she needs help.”

Before Sam could even reply, Dean was already halfway across the bar, meeting you just as you got your final drink.

“Need a hand?” Dean asked cheerfully, his sudden appearance making you jump. “Sorry,” he added with a snicker.

“Dick,” you muttered with a laugh, hopping down from the stool. “Here you go,” you added, handing him his beer.

“Awesome,” he beamed, taking the bottle from your outstretched hand.

He followed closely as you made your way back to the table, handing Sam his drink before sliding into the booth; Dean followed suit, leaving you nestled in between him and the wall.

The three of you had a few more rounds before Dean slipped away, determined to teach a lesson to the arrogant ass harassing players around the pool tables - just because you didn’t need to hustle people anymore didn’t mean it wasn’t still fun every now and then. You watched him fondly, laughing quietly to yourself as you watched him fumble around with his cue before making a terrible break. Harder than it looks, you could just hear him say.

Your attention was turned back to Sam when he cleared his throat, and you were met with his questioning gaze. “Does he seem weird to you?”

“Weird how?” you asked, face scrunched in confusion.

“I don’t know, strange,” he replied with a small shrug. “Like- like antsy or something.”

Your eyes flit back across the room to Dean, who was very much in his element as he upped his ante, before focusing on Sam again. “I haven’t noticed anything, Sammy.”

He sighed in resignation, seeming to already know that would be your response. “It’s probably nothing, just forget I said anything,” he replied, shaking his head dismissively before finishing his drink.

“If you say so,” you muttered quietly, sipping your drink as you cast a worried gaze across the bar, getting lost in thought.

By the time you each finished another round of drinks, Dean made his way back over to the table; much to the surprise of you and Sam.

“Done so soon?” Sam questioned, raising an eyebrow at his brother.

“Yeah,” Dean shrugged, sliding back into the seat beside you.

“But you only played one round,” you said quizzically.

“So?” Dean wondered, gulping down the rest of his beer.

“So, you usually play a lot more than that,” Sam pitched in, shifting his gaze between you and Dean.

Dean sighed, his bottle clanging on the table as he set it back down. “Why am I getting the third degree here? I played a game, he learned his lesson, I got over it. End of story.”

“Okay, grouchy,” you snickered, ruffling his hair a little just because you knew he hated it. Except he really did love it when it was you doing it.

“Whatever, anyone want another round?” he asked with a huff, lightly swatting your hand away.

“No, I’m gonna call it a night,” you admitted, shifting to slip your jacket back on.

“Yeah, me too,” Sam declared, starting to stand from the table.

Dean stood as well, assumingly just to let you out. “Alright, let’s go.”

You and Sam both stilled in your movements at his response, sharing a shocked look with each other. “You’re… coming with us?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked with a scoff, shrugging his jacket on as he looked questioningly between you and Sam. “Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you guys?”

“We just didn’t expect you to call it a night so early,” Sam explained helplessly. “Gettin’ old, huh?” he added, trying to lighten the mood a little.

“Yeah, I mean, you barely even wracked up a tab!” you declared with a laugh, before grinning mischievously. “Drinks just don’t agree with you anymore, do they, old man?”

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes, fixing his collar just to busy his hands. “Okay, alright, one more wisecrack and I’m leaving you both here.”

Despite the finality in his tone, the amusement dancing in his eyes gave him away - as did the hand he extended to you to help you slide from the booth.

“Whatever you say, grandpa,” Sam teased, patting Dean on the shoulder before walking away with laughter in his wake. “I’ll be outside!”

You chuckled in response, and the stern look Dean gave you only made you laugh even more. “Yeah, yeah. Hurry it up, chuckles,” he chided, wiggling his fingers at you. He surveyed the bar as you finally took hold of his hand, sliding out from your seat with ease and standing before him. “Ready?” he asked, gaze turning back to look down at you.

“Yeah, I just gotta go pay,” you replied, nodding your head in the direction of the bar counter.

“Alright,” he said with a nod. He gave your hand a squeeze, though instead of letting go like he normally would, he held it firmly as he led the way across the bar.

You followed along quietly, trying your hardest to not read too much into it. Though when you stood before the bar and he had yet to release your hand, you gave him a puzzled look. “Did you wanna go get the car?” you asked hesitantly.

He looked confused for a moment, as if he wasn’t entirely sure what was going on either, before he cleared his throat with a curt nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll meet you out there. Don’t take too long,” he rushed, giving your hand another fleeting squeeze before shuffling away.

Strange, you thought briefly, before shifting your attention to the bartender before you.

As you paid the tab, Dean settled into the driver's seat of Baby, and Sam watched him impatiently drum his fingers against the wheel as he hummed along to whatever song was in his head; and he couldn’t help but snort a laugh as Dean checked his watch one, two, three times since getting into the car.

“You’re ridiculous,” Sam chided with a laugh, shaking his head.

“What?” Dean inquired, annoyance clear in his voice.

“Dude, please tell me you see what’s going on,” Sam pleaded.

Dean widened his eyes in confusion, glancing around the near empty parking lot before looking back at his brother. “What’s going on?”

Before Sam could reply, their attention was caught by the opening of the bar’s door when you emerged from the building, a grin forming on your face as you caught sight of them waiting in the car.

Dean matched your grin, quickly reaching for the door handle and scrambling outside. “There she is!” he greeted happily, opening the back door for you.

“Fucking idiot,” Sam muttered to himself, staring out the window with an amused grin as you and Dean settled into your seats.

The three of you made it back in no time, and, having to settle for a single bed when first getting to town over driving for another who-knows-how-long just to find another motel, shuffled out of the car and into your shared room with heavy feet.

“Finally,” Dean muttered with relief, shutting the door behind him as Sam took a seat. “Whoa, whoa,” Dean barked, holding up a hand. “What’re you doing?”

Sam froze just as he sat on the bed, staring up at his brother. “What?”

“That’s my bed,” Dean declared with a huff.

“No, it’s not,” Sam answered with a scoff. “It’s your turn for the couch.”

“Dude, I’m not sleeping on the pull-out!” Dean declared with finality.

“What, are you kidding me?” Sam asked incredulously. “You got the bed last time!”

“Yeah, and I just got ragdolled by a crazy ass witch, I deserve a mattress!” Dean argued, stepping towards the bed. “Get up.”

“No,” Sam argued stubbornly, relaxing further atop the sheets.

“You guys are ridiculous,” you said with an exasperated sigh, walking across the room. “I’ll take the couch.”

“Not a chance,” Dean denied, not even sparing you a glance.

“What, why?” you asked in confusion.

“First of all, I’m not sharing with Sam,” Dean replied, turning to look at you. “Second, you got it worse than I did. I’m not shoving you on a pull-out.”

“Oh, please-” you started to argue, before he cut you off.

“I patched you up myself, [Y/N]. Don’t bother trying to lie to me,” he cautioned.

You opened your mouth to argue once more, but the look on his face stopped you short. “Whatever,” you mumbled, turning towards the bathroom. “I’m getting ready for bed. Figure this out before I get back so I can actually go to bed, please.”

The bickering resumed as you quickly retreated, shutting the bathroom door on Dean’s disgruntled declaration of “best two out of three.”

By the time you re-entered the room, you were met with silence. Surveying the surroundings, you found Sam digging through his toiletries bag while sitting in his original spot on the bed. Your gaze snapped over to the couch, where Dean sat looking like a kicked puppy.

“You went with scissors again, didn’t you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

He met your gaze as Sam snickered behind you, causing his face to sour even more. “Shut up,” he mumbled before standing, bristling past you with slumped shoulders.

You chuckled quietly to yourself and grabbed the spare sheets, quickly making up the pull-out for Dean while he got ready; hopefully he’d be a little less cranky about it all if this was at least already done.

Once finished, you made your way over to the bed and curled up under the covers. After saying a quick goodnight to Sam, you were asleep before Dean even left the bathroom.

Fear gnawed at Dean, his body frozen in place as a cold spread through him, panic clinging to him like ice. He tried to call out to you, but all that left him was a strangled breath as his lungs seized up. He watched as the waves carried you away, further and further from where he stood. By the time his legs finally moved to carry him closer to shore, his feet were so heavy it was as though he was wading through quicksand.

“No, no, no,” he pleaded quietly, watching as the waters edge never grew near no matter how far he ran.

Your voice cried out to him, surging him forward even faster as you drifted ever outwards, terror seeping deeper into his bones with every futile step he took.

He couldn’t reach you.

He couldn’t save you.

The realisation that you were gone caused his world to come crashing down around him as he fell to his knees. A roaring filled his ears, and he didn’t know whether it was the irascible water that held you captive or the blood racing from his pounding heart.

As he stayed there - watching the crashing waves for any sign of you, listening for a call of his name, unwilling to move for fear he’d miss you - the water suddenly crept up around him, as if to mock him.

The sky darkened as he let out an anguished cry, his voice blending in with the storm beginning to brew around him. Yet despite the deafening howls, he heard it clear as day: your voice, calling out to him.

“Dean.”

The world stilled around him once more, your voice ringing out in a whisper as gentle as the wind.

“Dean.”

He stood, frantically searching the horizon for you. He tried to call out, yet his voice still never came.

“Dean!” you called out, voice booming like thunder from above.

A small hand gripped his own, pulling him so forcefully he was yanked off his feet. He let out a startled cry, a spark of lightning igniting so brightly before him that he screwed his eyes shut.

“God dammit, Dean!”

Another force shook him, and when we reopened his eyes, he was met with the suspiciously stained ceiling of the motel room. He bolted upright, heart hammering against his chest as he looked around. He caught your worried gaze as he wiped the sweat from his brow, trying to steady his breathing as you leaned in closer.

“[Y/N?]” he gasped out, pushing himself further upright.

His hand reached out automatically, fingers tentatively brushing against your cheek as if to evaluate your solidity. When he was satisfied that you wouldn’t evaporate, he surged forward to wrap you in a desperate embrace; the icy grip of terror finally starting to melt.

“It was just a nightmare, De,” you soothed quietly, tracing a hand along his back. “Everything’s alright.”

“Yeah,” he said tightly, swallowing the lump forming in his throat as he let you go. “Yeah, it’s fine. I’m alright, get back to bed.”

“You’re okay?” you questioned, concern laced in both your face and tone of voice.

“I’m okay,” he affirmed with a nod, casting his gaze aside so you wouldn’t see the panic still swirling within him.

“Okay,” you said softly, placing a gentle kiss upon the crown of his head before standing from the edge of the pull-out.

Dean got up after you to grab a glass of water, his heart jumping in his chest as he remembered the sight of you being ripped away by the current.

“Just a nightmare,” he reminded himself under his breath. “Just a nightmare.”

Not having slept another wink after his nightmare, Dean was unsurprisingly the first one up the next morning. Taking it upon himself to get breakfast for the three of you, he found himself at the nearest diner waiting for his order.

Drumming his fingers impatiently on the sticky linoleum counter, a burning desire to call you began to build within him. Knowing you were likely still sleeping, he decided to busy himself with a stupid game you downloaded on his phone.

Yet the urge to reach out to you grew tenfold as he sat there, a sinking feeling that it might mean you were in danger starting to take hold of him. Just as his mind began to swirl with questions of what the hell was going on with him, he heard your voice calling his name.

His head snapped up, expecting to see you sliding onto the stool beside him, ready to give you hell for walking here in search of him all by yourself in a random town. He figured you must’ve known he was here, and it wouldn’t have been a far walk from the motel, but it was still stupid.

Though the words died on his tongue as he realized you weren’t there, and that familiar feeling of dread trickled through him after scanning the diner and not finding you anywhere.

Another voice called out, this time the waitress, announcing that his order was ready. He met her smiling face with nothing but confusion, her smile faltering for a moment.

“Everything alright?” she asked hesitantly.

“Huh?” he asked, before snapping out of his daze. “Oh, yeah. Just a little too early for me. Thanks-” he paused, squinting to read her name tag. “Thanks, Edna,” he charmed, flashing his signature grin as he gathered the order.

“Anytime, sugar,” she charmed, her smile perking back up as she sent him a wink.

With one last - albeit awkward - grin sent her way, Dean quickly left the diner; already feeling lighter for knowing he’d be back at the motel soon. His grin only grew when he glanced across the street and caught a glimpse of you staring back at him, proving that he wasn’t crazy and you really did come to meet him.

He took a step forward, intending to call out to you, when a truck drove by and blocked you from sight. The grin was wiped from his face and the coffee tray nearly slipped out of his hand when he noticed you had completely disappeared in its wake.

Fearing the worst once more, he scrambled into the car and quickly called you, firing Baby to life as the line rang.

“Hey,” you answered with a stifled yawn. “Please tell me you’re getting breakfast. And coffee.”

“Yeah, I-” he faltered in his response, having to let out a breath of relief as he realized you were safe and sound. “I’ll be back in a few, you and Sammy still there?”

“Where else would we be?” you asked with a giggle.

While the sound would normally bring a smile to his face, your words only caused a frown to appear. “You only waking up now?”

“Don’t judge me,” you teased. “It’s only… ten after seven, I barely slept in.”

“Just not used to being up before you,” he lied, knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel.

“Miracles really do happen,” you joked with a laugh. “You sound weird, is everything okay?” you added, worry tinting your voice.

“Hm?” he wondered, not processing your question right away. “Oh, no- yeah, I-... just didn’t get much sleep.”

“Right,” you said, teetering on the edge of believing him or not.

“Really, I’m good,” he assured, sensing your apprehension. “I just gotta catch some z’s and I’ll be good as new.”

“Okay. I’ll see you in a few then,” you relented. “Drive safe,” you added as an afterthought before hanging up.

The line went dead as he stopped at a red light, his stomach churning as he stared at his reflection in the rearview.

“Just need some sleep,” he assured himself.

“Dude, would you quit it with the pacing?” Sam snapped, setting his book down on the table for sheer lack of concentration.

Dean stopped just long enough to stare daggers at his brother before marching down the library once more. “She’s been gone too long.”

“She’s been gone an hour,” Sam informed, hands running over his face in exasperation.

“Exactly,” Dean replied, pointing a finger at Sam in acknowledgment. “Something must’ve happened.”

“Dude, she’s at the grocery store. With Jack. What the hell could possibly happen?”

“I don’t know!” Dean exclaimed, arms flailing as he whirled to face Sam. “Something must’ve! She hasn’t answered my last text and it’s been-” he paused, pulling out his phone to brandish the screen. “Seven minutes!”

“Oh, my god,” Sam groaned, tossing his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I can’t deal with this anymore.”

“What are you talking about? Aren’t you worried?” Dean asked gruffly.

“No, Dean, I’m not worried! There’s no reason to be worried!” Sam proclaimed.

“No reason? She could be dead!” Dean barked, his face taking on an expression of disbelief.

Sam sighed as he leaned over the table, raising his eyebrows. “Okay, let me ask you this: why, exactly, do you think she’s dead?”

“Oh, come on, Sam!” Dean grumbled. “We don’t exactly live cookie cutter lives here, you know. One minute she’s returning the shopping cart, and the next she’s got a damn knife in her back!”

“Dean,” Sam soothed. “You know as well as I do that’s a load of crap.”

“No,” Dean argued, shaking his head. “We don’t know that. We don’t know anything, you know why?”

Before Sam could even respond, Dean waved his phone around before dropping it on the table. “Because she won’t answer her damn phone!”

“Okay, this is actually ridiculous,” Sam declared. “How can you seriously not see what’s been happening to you?”

“Knock it off, Sam,” Dean muttered, waving a hand dismissively as he began pacing again. “I’m fucking fine.”

“You’re fine,” Sam repeated incredulously. “You’re friggin’ cursed, Dean!”

“I’m not cursed!” shouted Dean. “Would you quit it with that crap?”

“Right, because nothing’s been going on with you lately, right?”

“Right!” Dean agreed with a huff.

“You haven’t been, say, I don’t know…. not sleeping? Feeling stir crazy? Getting paranoid?”

“Sam-”

“No, I’m serious, Dean! How can you not see this?”

“Because I’m fine!” Dean argued, stalling his movements to gather his phone from the table.

After a few moments of silence, Dean rolled his eyes and found himself once more walking the length of the library. “Okay, maybe I’ve been feeling a little weird lately, but I’ve just been tired - and you know what? I survived worse. So yeah, I’m fine!”

“Right,” Sam said sceptically. “And have you… noticed when it is that you feel… weird?”

“I don’t know!” Dean announced frustratedly.

“Dean,” Sam chastised.

“What?”

“You’ve been feeling like this all week, and it’s only getting worse. You’ve been like this since that witch cursed you - and don’t say she didn’t. Use your fucking head, Dean! You’re cursed!”

Dean’s jaw clenched as he tried to remain calm, taking a moment to formulate his response. “You’re insane,” he finally declared.

“I think you’re the insane one,” Sam contested. “You were cursed to yearn for something, Dean. Only in this case… it’s someone.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“C’mon, Dean!” Sam pleaded with a laugh. “The only time you get like this is when you’re more than ten feet away from [Y/N].”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean muttered dismissively.

“You’ve checked your phone another five times since you picked it up.”

“So?” Dean questioned, failing to resist the urge to check it once more. “I’m worried, not cursed.”

“You’re worried because you’re cursed!” Sam argued.

“I’m worried because I lo-” Dean quickly fell silent as the words died on his tongue, his brain firing into total overdrive as he laughed nervously. “I care, that’s why I’m worried.”

Sam stared at his brother in total disbelief, trying to find a way to make him realize what was going on- or, most likely, acknowledge what was going on.

Yet before the conversation could go any further, the bunker door screeched open and the sound of your laughter fleeted down to greet Dean, effectively turning his scowl into an affectionate grin.

“Hope you remembered my pie!” he called out, marching to meet you at the foot of the stairs without so much as a glance back in Sam’s direction.

“When have I ever forgotten?” you asked, feigning offence as you held out the bag which contained his pie.

“Well,” he started, taking the bag from you. “There was that time in Redford-”

“Hey!” you interrupted with a laugh. “I didn’t forget, they were out!”

“See, I still don’t believe you,” he teased, heading for the kitchen.

“Believe whatever you want, Dean,” you replied playfully.

“I’m still waiting for it, you know. You should get me two next time,” he joked, though he was partly serious.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice tentatively called out.

“Yeah?” Dean replied hotly, keeping his back to Sam as he went to grab a beer from the fridge.

“Who, uh… who the hell are you talking to?” he asked carefully, surveying the empty kitchen.

“Hilarious, Sam,” he said dryly, shutting the fridge. “I’m talking to-”

His mouth ran dry as he turned around, being met with just his brother, who was staring with concern from the doorway.

“[Y/N],” Dean finished weakly.

“Her and Jack aren’t back yet, Dean,” Sam said carefully, as though talking to a lost child.

“Yes, they are. They got back, she gave me my pie, we came in here,” Dean said fiercely, his confidence shattering when he went to gesture at the pie he set down moments earlier and found it to be gone.

“Maybe you should sit down,” Sam suggested, not knowing what to do.

“I’m fine!” Dean shouted, hovering over the counter. “I’m fine,” he repeated, moreso to himself than anything.

“Okay, look, how about I try calling [Y/N], okay?” Sam offered, hesitantly walking further into the kitchen. “See when they’ll be back.”

“They are back!” Dean barked, glaring at Sam. “She was just in here!”

Sam didn’t know what to say, the fear and concern for his brother crashing down on him.

“She was just in here,” Dean repeated shakily, meeting Sam’s gaze with confusion.

“Dean,” Sam started to say, before the familiar tone of your ringtone came from Dean’s phone, cutting through the air like a knife.

Dean pulled the phone from his pocket, clearing his throat before answering. “Yeah?”

“Dean, thank god,” you cheered, sighing in relief. “Listen, we came out to a flat tire and I don’t have a spare because I forgot to fucking replace it and there are too many people around for Jack to, you know, try fixing it,” you rambled anxiously. “Can you please come help?”

“You’re still at the store?” Dean clarified, looking up at Sam with frightened eyes.

“Yeah, we’re stuck in the parking lot,” you told him breezily.

“Okay,” he said, swallowing thickly. “Alright, I’ll be right there.”

“Thanks, De!” you said happily, ending the call.

Dean stood there for a few moments staring down at his unopened bottle of beer on the counter, trying to gather his thoughts, before finally lifting his gaze to Sam.

“I’ll, uh…. I’ll be back,” he told him, not waiting for a response before trudging out of the kitchen.

You found yourself yet again rushing down the hall to Dean’s room, his muffled yells waking you in the dead of night once more.

He uttered your name as you shut the door behind you, and though it took you by surprise the very first time it happened - nearly two weeks ago, now - it was something you’ve almost come to expect. It was killing you, watching him go through this every night and not being able to fix it. You would sit with him, find ways to gently rouse him from his terror filled slumber and comfort him when he woke, but it never seemed like enough; he deserved more.

At first you didn’t think there was too much going on, figuring his shift in behaviour was just due to his lack of sleep. You didn’t believe Sam when he talked to you about it; Dean may have been acting a little more strange than usual, but it didn’t raise any red flags.

It wasn’t until the morning following your conversation that you noticed it, cluing in and realising how different Dean had been; how long he’d been different. The excess text messages, the increase in phone calls, the insistence on you not going anywhere without him and his exuberant reactions to you getting back safe when you did go somewhere without him, his constant questioning on where you were or where you’ve just been. Something else was going on, and you could only think it really did come down to the witch you two encountered. So you and Sam called up Rowena, getting her take on the situation and figuring out what to do.

Her words now echoed through your head as you perched yourself on the edge of his bed: “Magic isn’t simple. Some curses are anchored by the witch, ending whenever they were to die. But others are more complex, rooted not in the witch but the object of the curse itself, not breaking until their purpose is carried out one way or another. Perhaps if you can figure out what it is Dean needs, you can break the curse yourselves. If this carries on for any longer… I’m worried it will kill him.”

While you ran your fingers through his hair, you decided right then and there that once he woke up, you wouldn’t leave without confronting him about it. You knew it would likely start a fight, and you felt a little guilty knowing you would all but interrogate him right after having another nightmare, but all that guilt flew right out the window the second Dean startled himself awake, the sight of his panic stricken face as he gasped for air nearly bringing you to tears; you’ve seen him like this too often as of late.

“It’s alright, Dean,” you soothed, reaching out to him. “I’m right here, everything’s fine.”

His gaze snapped to you, unable to hide the confusion and terror still coursing through him despite the relief he felt. “[Y/N]?”

“Yeah, De,” you cooed, running a hand across his shoulder blades. “We’re in your room, everyone’s okay.”

He let out a shuddering breath, hanging his head in his hands. “You’re okay,” he whispered softly. “You’re okay.”

You sat quietly with him for a few more minutes, patiently comforting him as best as you could while you thought of how to approach this conversation.

Clearing his throat, Dean was the first to speak again as he rose from the bed. “Sorry I woke you again.”

The dejection and shame laced in his voice tore your heart to bits, and you had to put up a good fight to keep your emotions in check. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“Yeah, I do,” he disagreed, trudging to his sink in the corner.

“Dean, please talk to me,” you pleaded, watching as he turned on the water.

You fell silent, waiting for him to deny you and brush you off again. You waited for him to say something, to do something, but all he did was stare at the running water.

“Dean?” you asked cautiously, slowly getting up from the bed yourself.

“I can’t save you,” he muttered quietly, his gaze on the faucet unyielding.

“What?” you asked curiously, not knowing what he meant.

“I can never save you,” he carried on. “You always just… slip away from me. Every time. It’s always the same.”

“What’s always the same?” you questioned, moving closer towards him.

“I try,” he muttered, seemingly oblivious to your presence. “I run, and I fight, and I try, but I can never reach you. I can never get to you.”

He seemed to snap out of his daze a little, moving to splash water over his face before turning off the tap. “You keep dying. I keep watching you die. I can’t watch you die again, [Y/N]. I can’t.”

“This is what your nightmares have been?” you wondered.

He fell silent again for a minute before meeting your gaze in the mirror. “Yeah.”

“It’s not real, Dean,” you told him softly.

“It’s real enough for me,” he muttered, turning to face you.

“And is this why you’ve been… acting differently towards me?” you asked hesitantly.

He averted his gaze, hanging his head as he considered your question. “I guess,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe, yeah. I don’t know.”

“Dean,” you scolded with a sigh, plopping back down on the bed. “Why won’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

“Because everything’s fine!” he argued once again.

“I’m not stupid, Dean!” you challenged. “I know you. I can see something's eating you alive and it’s fucking killing me to witness it. So please, tell me what the hell is going on.”

“It’s just nightmares,” he lied, crossing his arms against his chest.

“It’s more than nightmares!” you cried. “You’re withering away into nothing, Dean! I mean let’s face it! You’re practically a zombie nowadays with how little sleep you get, you’ve been acting like a puppy with separation anxiety, and let’s not forget how completely erratic you’ve been.”

He glared at you, jaw clenching as he decided whether or not to entertain this conversation. “Okay, so maybe I haven’t slept lately,” he admitted starkly. “But like I keep saying, I’m fine.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of lying?” you sneered, glaring up at him.

He rolled his eyes, averting his gaze to anywhere else as he shook his head. “No, but I’m getting tired of having this conversation all the time.”

“Well too bad!” you yelled, abruptly standing from the bed. “Cause I’m tired of never having this conversation go anywhere! I’m tired of you brushing off the idea of you being cursed. I didn’t believe it at first either, but what the hell else could it be, Dean?”

“Oh, come on!” he barked, running a hand over his face. “I see Sam got his hooks into you.”

“Yeah, he did. And you need to listen to us.”

“No, I really don’t,” he scoffed, starting to head to the door.

“Even if it kills you?” you blurted out.

“It’s not gonna kill me!”

“God, look at you, Dean! It already is!” you argued, marching closer to him. “How would you feel if the situation were reversed?”

He let out a sigh, pausing with his hand on the doorknob before turning back to you. “What?”

“What if it were me going through all this instead of you? Would you let me get away with not even listening to you and Sam?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, staring at you in silence for so long you expected him to turn away again. Instead, he let out a deep breath as he took a seat, gesturing for you to carry on. “Five minutes.”

You almost went to argue before you thought better of it, knowing full well that if Dean never came around to the theory he would actually cut you off at the five minute mark. So, you did your best to recount the entire situation for him, reiterating what you, Sam, and Rowena had to say about it all in the hopes of getting through to him. By the time you finished, you knew it was well over five minutes, so you took Dean not interrupting you to be a good sign.

“Okay,” he finally said with a small nod. “Well, I listened. Can I go now?”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, anger and fear bubbling inside of you as you exploded. “God, you are unbelievable!”

“Well what do you want me to say?” he grumbled. “I just don’t believe that’s what’s going on.”

“How can you not believe it?” you asked incredulously. “It’s obvious!”

“Look, I said I don’t believe it, alright?” Dean snapped. “Why are you so hellbent on making this into some big fight? Just accept it.”

“No!” you seethed. “I can’t just accept the fact that this could kill you. Especially not when there’s a way we could end this.”

“No,” he disagreed, shaking his head. “You can’t fix this, [Y/N/N]. You just can’t.”

“I can!” you cried. “Just tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“You know what,” you scolded.

“This is so fucking ridiculous.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“Why the hell do you care so much?” he questioned exasperatedly.

“Because I’m fucking terrified, Dean!” you exclaimed. “I’ve watched you grow more restless and anxious every day since the night we finished that case. I’ve seen the life drain from you more and more as sleep became nearly impossible for you. And I know it’s nearly impossible for you, because I have spent the last eleven nights sitting on that bed as you got terrorised by your own mind. I don’t care if you believe in this curse or not, Dean, because I do.”

Dean stood quietly, absorbing what you said as the severity of the situation began to dawn on him.

“I mean don’t you get it?” you asked sadly, cutting through the silence. “If something happens to you, if I lose you… that’s not something I can come back from.”

Dean fell silent once more, running a hand through his hair as he took a deep breath, pacing around the room a little as he turned everything over in his head.

“I’m scared, Dean,” you reiterated softly. “Please, just let us try to fix this.”

“There’s some things I should tell you, then,” he admitted quietly after a moment of silence, taking a seat on the bed.

“About what’s been happening?” you asked hopefully.

He nodded, staring down at his hands folded in his lap. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” you said, moving his desk chair to take a seat. “I’m listening.”

He took a bracing breath, taking a few minutes to build the courage to speak. “Well, you know I’ve been having nightmares.”

“I do,” you agreed quietly.

“It’s always the same one,” he admitted, keeping his gaze cast downwards. “I could never figure out why. It didn't make sense to me why it was always the same thing. So I finally talked to Sam about it, and he had a pretty good theory. But, you know me. I didn’t want to believe it because it came back down to that witch and this stupid fucking curse.”

He let out a bitter laugh, pausing long enough for you to speak up. “What did he have to say about it?”

“I tried telling myself I was fine,” he continued, ignoring your question. “I was fine, at first. At first it was just not sleeping well… but then other things started happening.”

“Other things like what?” you wondered quietly.

“Like my blood feeling like it’s on fucking fire,” he muttered, wiping at his face. “And my skin feeling like it-… like it’s being peeled off my goddamn bones, and my face feeling like it’s melting… and how I get this- this bubble inside my chest that feels like it’s either gonna burst or suffocate me and how it all only happens-” he stopped in his rambling, taking a deep breath before chuckling in disbelief. “God, it only happens when you’re not around, [Y/N].”

“I-... what do you mean?” you asked breathlessly.

“Oh, come on, [Y/N],” he said bitterly. “I know you’ve noticed. I text you more, I’m almost always calling you. I just- I get this… this unwavering panic inside me when you’re not around. I keep-... I swear to god I see you everywhere when you’re gone. I catch sight of you across the street, I smell your stupid shampoo when I’m alone, I hear your voice when no one’s there. I had an entire conversation with you and you weren’t even there,” he carried on, shaking his head as he briskly wiped away an angry tear. “God, I’m going fucking crazy,” he added with a manic chuckle.

“You’re not crazy, Dean,” you said gently.

“That night,” he started, staring at the wall across from him. “She was trying to get back someone she lost… someone she loved.”

“Right,” you agreed.

“They used to drown them, people they accused of being witches,” he continued slowly.

“Yeah, it was pretty common. Sink, and you were innocent. Float, and you were guilty,” you pitched in. “But… what does that have to do with this?”

“I think they were innocent,” he said simply. “Whoever she lost… I think that’s how she lost them.”

“Why do you think that?” you asked curiously.

Dean cleared his throat, staring pensively at his hands once more. “The nightmares. It’s always… you always drown. I keep-... I can never save you.”

“I don’t get-” you started to say, before he cut you off.

“It’s how she lost who she loves, [Y/N],” he said curtly. “It makes sense for me to see the one I love go the same way.”

“I-... what?” you asked, too stunned to think of anything else to say.

“The dreams, the hallucinations, the- the way I’ve been feeling… I didn’t want to admit it, I still don’t, but I can’t… I mean I can only ignore it for so long, right?” he said, scoffing quietly. “Especially with you and Sam breathing down my neck about it.”

“Ignore what, Dean?” you asked breathlessly, your heart hammering in your chest.

“You,” he muttered. “They way I feel about you. The way I’ve always felt about you.”

You didn’t dare respond, his words ringing in your ears as he fell silent, each of you lost in your own thoughts for a while.

“I’ve always known that I love you, [Y/N/N],” he carried on, slowly meeting your gaze with glistening eyes. “But this… this curse, this whatever it is. God, it’s just made it all so much worse, and I knew. I knew it was you that my entire being was screaming out for but I couldn’t… I couldn’t admit it.”

“Why not?” you asked shakily, feeling your tears starting to build.

“How could I put that on you?” he asked, a few rogue tears slipping down his face. “You said it yourself, this thing is killing me. It’s gonna kill me, unless I get what I want, and given that that’s you, I’m calling it game over.”

“No, Dean, it’s not,” you denied with a sniffle, cutting through your own stray tears. “You should’ve told me.”

“Yeah, well,” he grumbled, shrugging lightly as he looked back at his hands. “I told you now.”

“Dean,” you sighed, wiping your face as you stood from your seat. “Do you trust me?” you asked, walking towards him.

“Of course I do,” he said quickly, almost offended by the question.

“Okay, well, I’ll need you to trust me on this,” you replied, stopping just in front of where he sat.

“Okay,” he said with a huff.

“You gotta look at me, though,” you said, laughing softly.

Sighing dejectedly, he slowly lifted his head to meet your gaze, a ghost of a smile dancing on his lips as he looked at you.

You smiled softly at him, gently taking his face in your hands before wordlessly bringing your lips down to meet his. At first, neither of you really knew what was happening, and just when you thought to pull away you felt his lips moving against your own. His hands gripped your waist to hold you in place a moment longer before you each pulled away, staring silently at each other as you processed what just happened.

“What, uh… what was that for?” Dean finally asked.

“Well, it was either that or slapping some sense into you,” you said playfully. “Which I almost think you still deserve, because I can’t believe you honestly think I don’t love you back.”

“What?” he asked, his grip on your waist loosening in shock before tightening once more.

“You’ve had me since the day we met, Dean,” you told him softly, carding your fingers through his hair.

“You actually…” he trailed off quietly, trying to focus his thoughts. “You actually love me, of all people?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “I do.”

“So I- well, I guess I could’ve saved a lot of trouble if I really did just tell you, huh?” he asked jokingly, laughing tightly.

“I’ll give you hell for it tomorrow,” you teased, half serious. “For now, how about we try getting you back to sleep?”

“Actually,” he said, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I have a better idea involving this bed.”

You couldn’t help but snort a laugh, grinning fondly at him. “Oh, really?”

He grinned back, laughing with you before taking on a more sombre tone. “Do you trust me?”

“Always,” you said honestly.

“Good,” he replied with a grin, laughing heartily at the shriek you let out when he tossed you on the bed.

He stared down at you, a look you’ve never seen before painted on his face. “What?” you asked, giggling nervously.

“I love you,” he said earnestly, brushing a lock of hair away from your face.

“I love you, too,” you replied shyly, grinning softly.

He matched your grin, drinking you in a moment longer before crashing his lips upon yours once more.

When Dean woke the next morning, it didn’t take long for a grin to spread across his face as he quickly realized two things.

The first thing being that you, the love of his life, still remained tangled up in both his arms and the sheets, sleeping peacefully atop his chest.

The second being that, for the first time in a total of thirteen days, he was able to sleep without being haunted by his nightmares.

He felt you stir, and his grin widened as you nestled in closer, tightening your grip on him as you slept. He planted a kiss against your temple, pulling you in close as he blissfully settled in for another peaceful rest.

Maybe witches aren’t so bad.

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alinathinkstoomuch · 1 month ago

Text

Filthy Flat-Pack Thoughts

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader summary: you had taken the day off to get yourself settled into your new apartment, not expecting hotch to show up at your door and offer a hand. warnings: suggestive, reader basically shoves her tits in hotch's face (you go girl!), hotch also catches reader in a towel, hotch being a gentleman (though not too gentlemanly because there's a filthy part two coming), like one cuss word, alcohol consumption. word count: 3.5k part 2 can be found here ✧ masterlist

You were pretty sure you’d maxed out every cuss word under the sun. If you spoke another language, you’d have burned through those swear words too. Guns? No problem. Paperwork? Manageable. Serial killers? Routine. But flat–pack furniture? That was where you met your match.

You had taken Friday off, thanks to your wonderful boss, who’d graciously allowed you the day. It had been a slow week, so you weren’t missing much – except your sanity. Because this damn bookshelf was out to get you.

The screw had slipped off the drill, skidded across the floor, and promptly disappeared into the abyss under your couch. Instead of hunting for it, you sighed, took another sip of your generously poured wine, and made a mental note to buy your new neighbours a bottle as an apology for all the yelling.

Just as you contemplated abandoning the bookshelf entirely and living amongst the scattered wooden panels like some modern art installation, there was a sharp knock at the door. You frowned, glancing at the time. You weren’t expecting anyone. In fact, barely anyone even had your new address.

Pulling open the door, you blinked up at Aaron Hotchner. Dressed in his usual suit, case file in hand, looking every bit the no–nonsense boss he was. Except instead of standing in the BAU bullpen, he was at your doorstep.

“Hotch? How did you –”

“Garcia,” he answered before you could finish.

Of course.

Your gaze dropped to the file in his hand, and you raised a brow. “This your version of a housewarming gift?”

“Consider it a reminder that work doesn’t stop just because you took the day off.” His voice was dry, but there was something in his expression – something amused – as his eyes trailed behind you.

He took in the mess of furniture, the scattered tools, the half–built bookshelf that somehow looked less assembled than when it arrived.

His lips twitched. “Do you need a hand?”

You needed his two hands somewhere where they weren’t supposed to be.

You cleared your throat, leaning against the doorframe like you weren’t having wildly inappropriate thoughts about your boss in the middle of your living room. It had to be the wine. Definitely the wine.

“I don’t know, Hotch. You any good with a drill?”

“I’m good with my hands.”

Your brain promptly short–circuited.

The squeak that slipped out of your mouth was completely involuntary and you just about covered it with a cough. Nope. No more wine. Never again.

He let the words hang there for half a second longer than necessary before stepping inside like he hadn’t just knocked the air from your lungs.

You shut the door behind him, barely registering the click as his gaze swept over the apartment, but you were too busy noticing something else entirely.

Like the fact that you were in nothing but leggings and a camisole. No bra. And the sudden draft from the door being open had done absolutely nothing to help your situation. Which was completely at odds with the heat now swimming under your skin as you watched Hotch – your boss – shrug off his jacket and roll up his sleeves with ease.

You stared. Really stared.

At his arms. At the way his fingers flexed as he pushed his sleeves up, forearms tensing, veins standing out in a way that was doing something entirely inappropriate to your already scattered thoughts.

You swallowed.

This was fine.

Totally fine.

Expect that was a lie. Because watching Aaron Hotchner, sleeves rolled up, tie slightly loosened, looking every bit the effortlessly competent man he was, was decidedly not fine.

“I assume this is supposed to resemble a bookshelf,” he mused, flipping through the instruction manual like it was a case file.

“That was the goal, yeah,” you muttered, trying not to hyper–fixate on the way he picked up a screwdriver.

“You were using the wrong screws,” he said matter–of–factly, turning the page and pointing to a very clear, very obvious diagram.

You crossed your arms. “No, I wasn’t.”

His expression didn’t change as he simply rotated the manual toward you.

You squinted.

Oh.

“Alright, maybe I was.”

He hummed in response, neither confirming nor denying your admission of defeat and got to work.

You sank onto the floor beside him, grabbing a stray screw in a desperate attempt to act normal. “So,” you began, determined to break whatever spell was settling between you, “is this why you really came by? To drop off paperwork and get roped into manual labour?”

He didn’t look up, but you caught the way his mouth quirked. “Would you believe me if I said yes?”

“No.”

His fingers paused before he resumed turning the screwdriver. “Garcia worries,” he admitted.

You scoffed. “Garcia meddles.”

“She was concerned about you being here alone.”

“I am an FBI agent, you know. I can handle a bookshelf.”

His line of sight flicked up to you then, slow and considering. “Can you?”

You narrowed your eyes. “I don’t like what you’re implying.”

“I’m not implying anything,” he said smoothly. “I’m stating that you were using the wrong screws, the wrong drill bit, and judging by the manual placement, attempting to put one of these pieces in backwards.”

Your mouth fell open. “Okay, first of all—”

“You also swore at it,” he added, like that was solid proof of your failure.

You exhaled sharply. “You heard that?”

“I heard a lot of things.”

The way he said it sent heat creeping up the back of your neck. “Well, if you’re such an expert, feel free to take over whilst I fix myself something to drink.”

Before he could respond, you pushed yourself up and made your way to the kitchen, grabbing the already open bottle of wine and topping off your glass. Then on impulse, you poured another, just enough to finish the bottle.

You weren’t sure what possessed you to do it, but when you returned back, two glasses in hand, it felt like some sort of silent invitation you weren’t ready to acknowledge. But it was completely harmless, right?

Just a casual gesture. A simple offering to someone who had gone out of his way when he didn’t have to. You were just being a good hostess, thanking Hotch for the extra mile, when realistically, this was probably the last place he wanted to be on a Friday night.

Re–entering the living room, you set your own glass down near your spot before extending the other to him. Hotch lifted his eyes, gaze moving from the glass to your face as he raised a brow.

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Its either we share, or I’d have to admit to finishing an entire bottle of wine by myself.”

“That’s very responsible.” He took the glass, his fingers brushing yours, the contact sending something sharp skittering down your spine.

“Guess Garcia was right to send you over.”

He didn’t reply. Instead, he lifted the glass to his lips, taking a slow sip, his eyes still locked onto yours over the rim.

Your stomach flipped. No – literally flipped. It felt like an entire theme park had set up shop inside you, rollercoasters and all. You swallowed, quickly lowering yourself back onto the floor, hoping that if you focused on something else – anything else – you could push past the fuzziness you felt.

“How can I help?” you asked, forcing a casual tone as Hotch set his glass aside.

He grabbed two of the wooden panels, fingers moving with that same precise efficiency that had definitely been an unfair distraction this evening. “Hold these in place while I put the screws in.”

You nodded, shifting on your knees to get a better angle.

“Here,” he murmured, adjusting one of the panels. “You need to hold this one higher.”

You complied, stretching a little too far in the process.

And that’s when it happened.

The movement tilted your chest forward – right into his space.

You froze.

And so did he.

The shift left you practically pressing against him, your camisole offering absolutely no barrier between the fact that his face was now far too close to your very braless predicament.

You caught the exact moment he realised it.

His grip on the screwdriver faltered for half a second. His breath hitched, just barely. And then – pointedly – he moved his eyes away, jaw tightening as if sheer willpower alone could erase what had just happened.

You should have moved. Should have said something. But you didn’t. Instead, some wild, definitely tipsy, possibly reckless, part of you decided to test just how composed the great Aaron Hotchner really was.

You shifted – just slightly. “Like this?”

His knuckles were going white. “Exactly like that.”

Your stomach flipped again, your mind taking that encouragement and running it into filthy places. Your pulse pounded in your ears as you watched him. His focus was locked on the bookshelf, or at least, that’s where it was supposed to be. But the stiff set of his shoulders, the sharp exhale through his nose, the way his grip tightened just a little too much around the screwdriver – none of it was subtle.

You really should move.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he made the deliberate choice not to look at you. Your lips parted, the tease on the tip of your tongue ready to push him just a little further, but before you could say a word, he spoke first.

“Hold still,” he muttered, adjusting the panel again.

But it wasn’t just his hands that moved this time. His knuckles brushed your ribs. The touch was light – so light it could’ve been nothing. But it didn’t feel like nothing. A sharp inhale slipped past your lips, barely audible, but enough.

His reaction was instant, his head tilted up, instinctive and automatic. Expect his gaze didn’t land where it should.

It landed lower.

Again.

Right where the thin fabric of your camisole left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

“Sorry,” you whispered as he quickly looked back down at his hands.

“You’re fine. Almost done.”

You should have been relieved, but you weren’t. Because now, it wasn’t just the wine that was intoxicating – it was him. The scent of his cologne, the warmth of his skin, the sheer presence of him so close. It wrapped around you, all too much and not enough at the same time, making it impossible to think about anything else.

And suddenly, the thought of him being done with this – stepping back, putting distance between you – wasn’t something you wanted at all.

So you loosened your grip.

It was cruel, really. A calculated move disguised as clumsiness, using the precariously placed bookshelf as an excuse to move closer.

The panel slipped and everything happened fast – too fast.

You gasped as it wobbled out of place, throwing off your balance. Hotch’s hands shot out at the same time yours did, but the angle, the movement, all of it caused you to lose your balance. Your knees slipped beneath you as you stumbled forward, half into his lap.

His hands caught you instinctively, one gripping your waist, the other splayed against your back. The air left your lungs in a rush—not just from the fall, but from the feel of him beneath you.

Your palms pressed against his chest, feeling the rise and fall underneath your fingers. His grip tightened just a fraction, just enough. Not pulling you closer but not pushing you away either.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The world had gone utterly still. Your hands stayed planted on his chest, his warmth seeping through the fabric, while his fingers hovered at your waist – undecided, restrained and yet so very present.

“I know what you’re doing.”

Oh no.

Heat curled in your veins, your pulse hammering so loudly it drowned out everything else. “What exactly am I doing, Hotch?”

His breath was steady. Yours was not.

And then – so slow it was torturous – his thumb brushed against your side. This time, it wasn’t accidental. It was deliberate. He traced a barely-there path against your hip at the same moment your fingers curled against his chest, the fabric of his shirt bunching up.

He knew this was wrong. Knew he should move away, put space between you, remind himself that this was a line that could not – should not – be crossed.

But he didn’t move because you weren’t moving. Because your fingers curled tighter on his shirt and he could feel your breath ghosting against his skin, because your body – so impossibly close – wasn’t retreating.

And he wasn’t sure he wanted it to.

This had started out as nothing more than a simple visit. He’d barely hesitated when you asked for the day off. It had been a quiet week and you’d had enough on your plate between cases and moving. You’d earned the time.

But when Garcia had mentioned, a little too innocently, that you’d been tackling everything alone, something shifted in him. Maybe it was the excuse he needed. Or maybe it was the way he imagined you here on your own, frustrated, stressed and something in his chest tightened too much at the thought of you struggling.

He’d told himself he was just stopping by. Just bringing the files. Just checking in.

He hadn’t expected to find you you like this.

Cheeks flushed from the wine, eyes dark and full of something unreadable, dressed in a way that left his mouth dry.

And now you were in his lap.

Your skin was warm beneath his hands, your breaths shallow, lips parted ever so slightly.

“What is it that I’m doing, Hotch?” Your voice was barely a whisper now, lashes fluttering, the barest tilt of your head closing even more of the distance between you.

He wasn’t sure if you could feel the tension humming beneath his skin. And his restraint – the control he prided himself on, the discipline he’d spent years perfecting – became a fragile, splintering thing.

If you leaned in a fraction more, there would be nothing left to stop this. He wasn’t sure if that terrified him or if it was the most tempting thought he’d ever had.

It took everything in him to fight against the impulse, to loosen his grip, to exhale sharply and force distance where there was none.

“You’ve had a long day.” His voice was rougher than he wanted it to be.

You blinked, momentarily thrown. “What?”

His hands released you.

“And you’ve had too much to drink.”

Your eyes searched his, the teasing, playful edge now gone. Replaced with something else. Frustration? Disappointment? Hurt?

That nearly destroyed him.

But he had to do this because he knew you.

He knew you’d had a long week. Knew stress pushed you toward reckless choices. Knew the wine had stripped away just enough inhibition to let you push – to let you test him, to see what he would allow.

And God help him, he wanted to give in. But not like this. Not when he wasn’t sure if you’d wake up tomorrow and regret it.

“I will finish up here. You can go and get some rest.”

He heard you exhale, saw the tension in your shoulders shift like you wanted to argue. But then you reluctantly pulled back, dragging a hand down your face as if what you had just tried to do finally settled.

“I am so sorry I don’t know what I was thi–”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s alright.”

“No it’s not alright, I–”

He said your name, stopping you before you could spiral any further. Because the last thing he wanted was for you to feel embarrassed about something you both wanted, but just couldn’t have.

“I should shower,” you muttered, not even sure if you were speaking to him or yourself.

He nodded, already shifting his attention back to the damn bookshelf, pretending to focus on something else.

Something that wasn’t you.

You hesitated in the doorway, watching as he picked up the two panels. “You really don’t have to stay. It’s late and I can finish up tomorrow.”

“I don’t mind.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, dragging your feet toward the bathroom, your body still burning not just from the heat of the moment but from the sheer embarrassment curling in your stomach like a slow, humiliating ache.

What the hell had you been thinking?

You turned the shower on, letting the sound of running water drown out the chaos of your thoughts in your head.

You knew Hotch wasn’t the kind of man to cross that line, not like that. Not with you. And yet, you had still pushed him, only to end up rejected. The memory of it made you cringe, heat rising to your cheeks again.

You stepped under the hot spray, steam curling around you, and wished you could disappear into it – dissolve into nothing and escape the hole you had just dug yourself into. You contemplated what other career paths you could take because there was no way you were walking back into the BAU on Monday morning.

It wasn’t just the rejection that stung, it was the fact that he had been right. You had been drinking. You had been stressed, exhausted and overwhelmed.

But none of those things had made you do what you did. You couldn't blame them for the way you had leaned in, for the way you had tested him, for the way you wanted him.

Because the truth was, those feelings had been festering for months.

For him.

Your boss.

And now, you had just made everything so much worse.

By the time you finally shut the shower off – and racked up a hefty water bill in the process – your body felt clean, but your thoughts were still a mess. You wrapped yourself in a towel, sighing as you reached for the door handle.

And then—

A soft click.

The sound of the front door shutting.

Your stomach twisted. Of course he had left. You swallowed hard, pushing away the sudden tightness in your chest. You gripped the edge of your towel a little tighter as you cracked the bathroom door open, stepping out into the hallway.

The apartment was quiet as you padded toward the living room, heart sinking at the sight before you. The bookshelf was finished, not a single screw out of place. And the coffee table, that was finished too, every piece perfectly assembled.

But the room was empty.

Dragging a hand through your damp hair, you turned in a slow circle, scanning for any other sign of him. But there was nothing.

It wasn’t like you expected him to stay. You had all but thrown yourself at him tonight and he had done the right thing – the gentlemanly thing – by stopping it. And yet, standing there, wrapped in nothing but your towel, your home felt emptier than it had before.

You exhaled sharply, turning back toward the bathroom, ready to put on some clothes and pretend this night never happened. But the sound of the front door swinging open caused you to spin on your heel just in time to see Hotch stepping back inside.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

First, it was him catching you without a bra, and now he had walked in on you fresh out of the shower, wrapped in nothing but a towel that barely covered anything.

The moment his gaze landed on you, his entire body went rigid. His eyes flickered downward – just for a second – before he sucked a breath in, his nostrils flaring.

He immediately looked away, clearing his throat as he shut the door behind him like this wasn't the second time tonight you'd managed to put him in an impossible situation.

"I–" He hesitated, voice tight. Too tight. "I was just taking out the rubbish."

Of course he had. Because this man was nothing if not thoughtful.

“Thank you,” you managed, fingers gripping the towel tighter, holding onto it for dear life as you shifted awkwardly. “For everything, you really didn’t have to go through all the trouble.”

He didn’t respond right away but his eyes were back on you again. You caught the way they traced the delicate slope of your collarbone, down to where a single droplet of water clung to your skin before disappearing beneath the edge of your towel.

“I – I really am sorry about earlier.”

“Don’t be. There’s nothing you need to be sorry for.”

You nodded, your line of sight drifting to where his jacket hung over the back of a chair.

It was an excuse to move. To do something other than stand there, half–naked and vulnerable under his intense stare. You grabbed it with your free hand, clutching your towel tighter with the other, and made your way over to him.

Even as you stepped closer, you felt the weight of his eyes on you–watching, tracking.

“Don’t want to forget your jacket.” You held it out to him, but when his hand reached for it, his fingers skimming yours, his attention wasn’t on the jacket.

It was on you.

“Thanks. Get some rest.”

You nodded again, lips pressing together, forcing yourself to ignore the way your pulse wouldn’t settle.

And just like that, he turned to leave, the moment passing.

Or at least, that’s what you both told yourselves.

divider creds. cafekitsune

#aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds #ssa aaron hotchner #hotch #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner one shot

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planetaryupscaled · 6 days ago

Text

The Best of Three

Male Reader x Gaeul x Sakura

Tags: 9k, smut, creampie, oral, threesome, tw

The story is not ours, we alternate the original story to match our desired settings.

I hated returning home to an empty apartment on a Friday night, particularly when it was dark by the time I walked through the front door.

Shutting the door behind me, I switched on the lights, throwing my keys and everything on the coffee table, laying my bag down on one of the chairs before grabbing a beer from the fridge, sitting back on the three-seater lounge.

Flicking on the television, it was the usual inane news items, sighing to myself as I sipped at my beer. Picking up my phone, there were a few messages from friends, those I’d kept close after everything that happened. Even a couple of friends I’d kept since school now distanced themselves from me. I didn’t really blame them.

Shaking my head of the memories, I flicked to one of the channels. Flicking through my phone apps, I found the number for the local pizza joint. I was a regular there, chatting away with the sweet girl on the phone. And half an hour later, my pizza arrived.

Ten minutes later, the intercom buzzed. Groaning to myself, as I wasn’t expecting any company, and all I wanted to do was spend the weekend drunk, I got up and walked to the small panel.

“Yeah?”

“Heyy!” the voices outside exclaimed in unison.

I took a moment to blink and take a couple of breaths. If there were two people on the planet who loved me unconditionally, no matter what I did, it was those two. I was going to ask ‘What are you doing here?’ but that would have been rude, and I knew they were there for me anyway. I buzzed them up, hearing both of them thank me. Opening the door, I waited for them to appear.

As they approached me, I couldn’t help smile. It was almost unfair they were so damned beautiful, kind and caring, and not the hot mess like I was.

Did I say they were beautiful, gorgeous and could have been on the cover of magazines?

“Hey!” they both exclaimed, and before I knew it, I was being cuddled by two excitable girls.

Leading them inside, I offered them a glass of wine, as I always kept a couple of bottles around considering they were frequent visitors, sitting in between them on the three-seater lounge. I offered them a slice of pizza before I sat back, muting the television, glancing to either side of me. I received a sweet smile in return from the both.

“What are you doing here?”

“Let me guess,” Sakura replied, “You’re watching, eating a pizza and drinking beer, then you’ll pass out in bed later before spending the weekend feeling sorry for yourself.”

Shrugging helplessly, as they knew me well, both of them smiled at me but there was no missing the sadness in their eyes. “It’s been one year since you moved out of our apartment, two years since you broke up, three since you date her, and four since that afternoon,” Gaeul stated, “Isn’t it time to move on?”

“I have moved on. I have a good job. Have my own apartment. A few close friends.”

“But no girl in your life,” Sakura retorted.

“I find it very difficult to trust people nowadays, particularly a girl. Pretty much you two are the only I trust in the world.”

“You date a slut,” Gaeul suggested, “That’s on her, not on you.”

“Doesn’t change what she did to me, the fact I walked in on them, the fact it went on for so long, the fact the others involved were supposed to be my friends.”

“You’re coming out with us tonight. No more moping around your apartment every weekend,” Sakura pretty much demanded.

“I do go out! And I go out with you most of the time.”

“Well, the local cafe for a few drinks is not going out when not with us. You’re coming out with your gorgeous best friends to have fun. You remember what fun is, right?”

I grunted a non-committal response, which made them giggle before they cuddled into me. Glancing either way, they looked up at me with those big doe eyes they’d perfected over the years. From the moment I met them, they had me wrapped around their fingers. I'd have done anything for them.

Finally, I sighed as I knew I wouldn’t win. “Okay, let me have a shower and get changed.”

“Want some company?” Sakura asked.

“We could help scrub your back,” Gaeul added.

They were always teasing me like that. If it wasn’t for them, I dread to think what my life would be like nowadays. Probably far lonelier, if I’m being honest.

“Wear something nice!” Sakura called out as I was about to step into the bathroom.

“But your stubble is perfect. Makes you look handsome.” Gaeul added.

Stepping under the hot water, I couldn’t help smile for a moment.

—

As I cleaned up in the shower, I reflected on the previous few months of my life. Instead of our friendship becoming strained, as I honestly thought they were left feeling abandoned after I found the one, or so I thought. we seemed to be closer than ever. I spoke to both of them nearly every night. We sent messages and exchanged pictures throughout the day. We spent nearly every weekend together. I still wasn’t ready for dating so having some female companionship felt good.

I also picked up that, on the rare nights out I did have with them, neither they had a problem flirting with me. And I wasn’t your typical oblivious person. I knew when a girl was giving me the eyes but I guess I simply hadn’t looked at them like that.

They clearly loved me, as I do to them, and that left me questioning certain things. I barely heard about any boyfriends. They’d claimed they were not virgins but I also knew they were not the type of girls to go out on a night, pick up a guy, fuck them and then not speak to them again.

—

They’d organized to meet a few of their good friends. The bar we met them was trendy enough. Not really the place I’d head to by myself considering the price of a beer was eye-watering. I did the gentlemanly thing and offered to buy the first round. They told me my money was worthless, I was their guest and all they wanted was my company.

Conversation flowed and I was center of attention. After an hour, I found myself relaxing and enjoying the evening. I realized that the one topic not to be touched was that of my ex-girlfriend, but anything else was fair game. But we generally avoided anything that would bring down the mood. Sakura sat to my left, Gaeul to my right, and they didn’t move, ordering their rounds via their phones so they could be delivered to our table.

After a few drinks, the girls wanted to dance. They knew I never went to nightclubs. But what they wanted, they got. A pout, doe eyes and pleading with me, feeling their fingers running up and down my arms and chest, and I was putty in their paws. Their friends giggled but I also saw looks that suggested they knew too. I thought they’d be weirded out the obvious affection the two had for me.

Once inside, we avoided the over-priced drinks, sticking to water or soft drink, and headed to the dancefloor. Despite my aversion to the music, I could still move to the beat. No other girl got a look in the entire time was there, they both draped over me the entire time. It wasn’t the first time, but I was now paying more attention. Even their friends barely got my attention. If we’d been in the sort of place that had slow music, I had little doubt two bodies would be molded into mine.

No idea what time we rolled out of the club. I was a gentleman again, making sure all our friends were off safely first. That earned me a kiss on the cheek from each of them but a certain look I tried hard to read, almost as if they understood. The three of us shared a taxi again, this time I was in the middle of the back seat, Sakura and Gaeul to either side. The taxi driver met my eyes in the rearview mirror and grinned at me.

Arriving at my place, Sakura let me out, Gaeul got out on her side. Before I could say a word, Gaeul paid the driver while Sakura took my hand, leading me to the door leading into the building. Taking the elevator up to the floor of my apartment, I opened the door and stood aside, letting them in first. When they headed straight for my bedroom, I followed them slowly, walking in to find them stripping down to their lingerie. Against their pale skin, Sakura in black, Gaeul in red, they turned and smiled at me. They were absolute visions.

Walking towards me, I’m fairly sure I stood there slack-jawed. They ran a hand up an arm each before meeting at the buttons of my shirt, helping undo that and take it off. Their fingers continued to move across my chest down to the belt of my jeans. They undid that but then moved down to my feet, helping take off my shoes and socks, both of them on their knees as they undid the button then lowered the zip of my jeans.

That left me in my bedroom in only my underwear with my two goddess best friend in their lingerie. And there was no missing the tent in my underwear. Both rose slowly, raking their nails over my skin, both making sure they trailed lightly over my erection.

“What are we doing here?” I had to ask softly.

“Going to bed,” Sakura replied.

“We’re going to keep you company,” Gaeul added.

“How do we look?” Sakura wondered.

“Are we pretty?” Gaeul asked.

I took half a step back and looked them up and down. I felt my cock throb from the excitement. They were my best friends and I probably shouldn’t see them in such a situation. Huh, that word again. Situation. Both stepped forward and pressed their warm bodies into mine, a hand each moving up my back to the top of my head. Sakura was the first to kiss me, a soft meeting of our lips. It wasn’t a chaste kiss but wasn’t quite that of lovers. Gaeul then kissed me in a similar manner. My fingers were caressing each back on offer at the same time. When I moved further down, they both smiled at me.

“You can touch us anywhere you want,” Sakura breathed.

“We’re here for you, to make you happy. Tonight, we’re going to share your bed to sleep.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure how easy sleep will be,” I muttered.

“Hey?” I met Sakura’s eyes. “You realize now how we feel?” I searched her eyes before doing the same with Gaeul. “We love you.”

“Like, totally,” Gaeul added, both of them giggling at the phrase.

“You mean ‘love’ love, like the love I shared with...”

“No!” Sakura shouted, Gaeul shouting the same word in unison. “We love you so much more than that slut!”

“Sorry, I didn’t...”

Before I could finish, Sakura kissed me. Within a few seconds, it was the sort of kiss lovers would share. Without thinking, I slid my tongue into her mouth and she whimpered within a few seconds. Breaking the kiss, her eyes were already glistening before I turned and kissed Gaeul exactly the same way. When she whimpered, I pulled back and noticed the same look.

“Kissing is one thing, but... Anything else... we shouldn’t even be doing this.”

“So we take it as slow as you want,” Gaeul replied, “But do you love us?”

“Of course, I do.”

“But can you love us like you now know how we want you to?” Sakura asked, and I heard a hint of desperation. I’m not sure why they were doing it tonight, but I think they’d been waiting and they were laying their hearts out on the line.

It was time to make the confession. “I already do love you like that, it’s why I had to move out.” For a brief moment, the smiles faltered as I knew they were still hurt, but I think they now understood. “But there's a line in the friendship that should not be crossed. Once we have crossed that line...”

“We’ll cross it when you’re ready,” Gaeul stated.

Turning them both around, we hopped into bed, me in the middle Sakura to my left, Gaeul to my right. One of their legs was lifted onto my body, one of their hands relaxing on my chest, running up and down through the faint covering of hair. My arms were wrapped around them. When their hands moved further down my body, I gave each of them a glance, noticing the smirk on their faces.

Feeling them reach the band of my underwear, I sucked in a breath when they didn’t delay in sliding under and I felt two smaller hands caress my cock. “Fuck,” I muttered.

“We want to look after our best friend,” Sakura whispered into my ear.

“In every single way,” Gaeul whispered into my other one.

“We’re yours forever.”

“Do you need to cum?”

I managed to nod my head, considering I’d been turned on since my earlier shower when I’d been thinking of our recent times together. The fact they were always dressed to impress whenever we went out. The constant flirting and flagrantly trying to turn me on. The constant innuendo. Those looks they’d give that suggested they wanted nothing more than their best friend to bend them over the table and do many naughty things to them both.

“Do you need us to take care of this hard thing in your underwear?”

There it was from Sakura. The moment of truth. The line in the sand. Pandora’s Box about to be opened. Once it happened, it couldn’t be undone. Can’t unring a bell. “Are you sure?” I had to ask.

“We always love you,” Gaeul whispered, and I heard the shudder of breath.

“We always have been,” Sakura added, hearing the emotion in hers too. “And now you’re ours.”

I gave it all of three seconds thought before I nodded. Gaeul giggled and rolled away, returning with the lube I used for my private moments. Both sat up and eagerly helped lower my underwear. They both grinned when my cock came into view. Minji had never complained about it, but she’d also cheated on me. That sort of things does impact your ego and leaves you questioning plenty of things about yourself.

“Bigger than your ex.”

“And yours.” Sakura giggled. “God, that sounds even worse when we’re in here. We only saw it by accident!”

I blushed and chuckled. “Um, one other thing,” Gaeul stated, “We’ve never been with a guy before.”

“What?” I asked, my voice deadpan. I didn’t expect that.

They both smiled at me. “Technically, we’re not virgins but we had to learn about a few things, obviously, but we’ve only ever wanted you. Why do you think we were so upset when you told us you were going to that that slut?” Sakura retorted.

Sitting up, I immediately pulled them into my body and hugged them. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, “I had no idea you felt like that at the time.”

“It’s okay,” they both assured me, kissing me on each cheek.

“We’re here now,” Sakura stated in the sort of tone that suggested no argument.

“Now lie back as we want to play with your cock!” Gaeul stated excitedly.

Lying back, I couldn’t help smile as their eyes were still full of their love for me, but added to that was a healthy dose of lust. When I suggested that they might as get naked as well, they glanced each other, changed a smile, and suggested I help them. Sitting back on my knees, I kissed Sakura as I helped take off her bra, before I lowered her panties, pulling her into my body and making her whimper again as my cock pressed into her. Doing the same to Gaeul, I squeezed her cheeks at the same time. When I broke the kiss, her eyes were hooded in that manner where I could have probably thrown her back and just had my way with her.

On my back, Gaeul applied lube and I soon had the joy of four hands caressing my cock. How I didn’t cum in two minutes, I don’t know. As I looked down to see my two best friends playing with me, giggling away.

“I love you both,” I whispered.

They both smiled as they quickly figured out what felt really good. “This is just to get you to sleep tonight,” Sakura explained, “But we know taking it slow is best.”

“But we’re hoping we’ll make love sooner rather than later. We’ve been waiting a while.”

“I agree, Gaeul. Agree on the sooner thing,” I grunted as they were now working my shaft with a hand each.

I watched enraptured as they stroked me off. I was almost wanting to ask if they’d blow me. I swear they were mind readers as they assured me that, next time, they’d both be sucking me off to an orgasm, and they both giggled by promising they’d swallow. And they’d want to try a facial. And cum on their tits too. Basically, I could cum anywhere I wanted on them. But was that after fucking their pussy or ass? When they mentioned anal, I damn near exploded.

“That’s one cherry neither of us has given up,” Sakura added, “That’s yours and yours alone, whenever you want it. Well, not before we’ve made love a few times anyway.”

When I told them I was close, they smiled and turned around so they were facing away from me, but I got a perfect look at two pert little butts, and they purposely spread their legs so I got a fantastic view of their bald little pussies. My mouth watered as they were both clearly turned, almost dripping wet with excitement. Reaching out with just a finger from each hand, I delicately ran a finger up each slit on offer. They made a sound between a gasp and a choked sob, then a plea for me to just touch them ever so lightly.

That helped me orgasm as I blasted within a couple of minutes. No idea where half my cum went, Gaeul quickly disappearing into the bathroom to retrieve a wet washcloth, wiping down my cock, and around my lower abdomen. Feeling a little light-headed, as that was one hell of an orgasm, they both turned around and cuddled into me.

“What about you?”

“Want to see us play with ourselves?” Sakura asked, “It’s late, we’re horny, but we want a whole night of your pleasuring us when it’s the first time. How turned on are you, Gaeul?”

“Just looking at you has me flowing.” Gaeul said.

I looked down and she wasn’t lying. I met her eyes and, though she blushed, the rapid breathing and chewing of her bottom lip told me enough. Sakura was equally as turned on. Without me saying a word, they were soon fondling their pussies. They were absolutely perfect, If I concentrated hard enough, I could almost taste their scent.

“Hey,” Sakura whimpered and I already knew it was the tone of a girl who needed to orgasm. I sat up on my knees between them, alternating kissing each of them as they were soon frigging themselves something silly.

“Oh god,” Gaeul moaned, “Oh god, this is going to be...”

“Are you going to cum for me?” I asked them both. They both nodded eagerly, leaning down to kiss each of them again. They whimpered as I slid my tongue into Gaeul’s mouth first, caressing her cheek, before doing the same to Sakura. Noticing their nipples were almost achingly hard, I took one in each hand and started to play with them.

“Oh fuck yes!” Gaeul cried out as her entire body started to quiver. She was almost sobbing though there was no thought of stopping. Sakura followed in orgasm within seconds, whimpering and crying as both leaned into my body, both of them refusing to stop for a second.

“Keep going,” I whispered into Sakura’s ear, before leaning over to Gaeul, “I want you to pass out.”

Gaeul could only whimper and moan, Sakura was barely capable of saying anything. I turned around and wrapped an arm around each of them, watching as they spread their legs further. My cock was already rock hard again, both of them concentrating on themselves but fondling me at the same time. They climaxed in unison again within a few minutes. A third one quickly followed after that. Then I asked them to give me their fingers.

I tasted them for the first time, Sakura the first to offer her fingers before I tasted Gaeul. Now that they’d stopped, they were clearly exhausted after a long night out and now having sorted themselves out. We needed a quick shower together, just to wash away the sweat from a night of dancing and our other activities.

Returning to bed afterwards, they performed ‘scissors, paper, rock’ in regards to who’d spoon against me. Gaeul won, happily cuddled back against me, Sakura cuddling back into her friend. My arms were long enough wrap around them both.

“Will you be hard in the morning?” Gaeul asked just before I was about to drift off.

“Well, I always am but I think it’ll be extra hard in the morning.” They both giggled at the insinuation. “I love you both.”

“We love you more,” they replied in unison.

—

I woke to an empty bed the next morning. I wandered out to the living room, finding Sakura and Gaeul in the kitchen preparing breakfast naked. In the morning light, they were even more stunning, and they’d both made sure they’re hair was up in a ponytail. Any chance of my cock deflating disappeared in an instant.

Moving to stand behind them, they giggled as I kissed them each on the cheek, moving down to kiss and nibble on their necks, ensuring I pressed my cock into each of them when doing it. I enjoyed the moans they both made as they could clearly feel how turned on, I was by both of them. It made me chuckle. I would have never considered anything like this. I’d moved out of their apartment to avoid the temptation.

Now here we were, three naked friends having crossed a line the previous night, and there was no doubt we would be making love sooner rather than later.

After enjoying a naked breakfast, Sakura mentioned a lunch at their shared apartment, something we did at least once a month on a Sunday. It was amusing that they had to get dressed in what they wore before while I slipped on some clean clothes. “Maybe you can just undress us again at our place?” Sakura asked with a smirked.

Once we were in their apartment, they again performed the game I’d see them play throughout the years. Gaeul won so took my hand, standing in front of me and told me to strip her. I did it incredibly slowly, ensuring I turned her on, my fingers lightly trailing all over her smooth, pale skin, kissing her in various places. By the time I had her down to the lingerie she’d worn the night before, she was completely turned on. Glancing at her panties, the darker colour told me everything I needed to know.

“I want you,” she breathed.

Once she was naked, I pulled her into my body, easily lifting her up, making her squeal. She looked at the doorway and smiled, motioning Sakura to join us. I did the same for Sakura. “I love your body,” I whispered, looking up to see her blinking rapidly, “I can’t wait to learn about both of you completely.”

As soon as she was naked, I kissed and cuddled her too, earning a squeal and giggle equal to her friend. I could almost smell their arousal. Making sure they were standing side by side; I met each pair of eyes and I knew they wanted to do a whole lot more with me then and there. “I’m thinking the same thing,” I stated, “But we do have an appointment to keep. If I put both of you on that bed, we won’t be leaving until tomorrow morning.”

I think they shuddered at the insinuation and were now aware that I wanted them both intimately. I knew what I saw in my eyes in that moment. I wanted to make love to them. I wanted them as much as they wanted me. And they knew that, once we did sleep together, that was us committed, the three of us, forever.

Somehow, I managed to tear myself away and head towards the living room, ending up in the kitchen to throw some cold water on my face. I could hear them giggling away as they got ready, turning up half an hour later dressed more conservatively than the night before.

We stayed long enough to watch movies before I had to go home. Calling a taxi, it suddenly hit me how lonely I was going to feel walking into that empty apartment again. Now that I’d finally confronted my own feelings, while they had well and truly confessed how they felt, the idea of being apart made me sad.

“Then we’ll have to start looking for a place to share. At least three bedrooms. A master one big enough for the three of us, then a couple for when we start having kids,” Sakura added.

“What?”

“We’re having children,” Gaeul replied.

I looked between them both. “You’re serious?” Receiving two firm nods, their faces broke out into grins when I smiled at them.

“Well, I Always wanted to be a father.” I said, grinning.

“And you’re going to make us mothers,” Sakura stated, “But that’s for later. First, we’re going to enjoy some steamy sex.” She glanced around and leaned forward, both of them caressing my groin. I shuddered as they giggled, kissing me on the cheek.

—

Concentrating at work that week was difficult. The guys seemed to realize straight away as they all started asking if I’d met someone. I had no reason to complain and it was time to start looking at everything positively.

Friday afternoon after work, I did some grocery shopping, ensuring I had their favorite food and drink in the apartment. From the moment I stepped in the door, I was inundated with selfies of them getting ready. I’d already received more than one naked picture from them. In fact, a couple of videos as well where they were fooling around with each other. That was pure masturbation material.

The intercom finally buzzed as I was placing a dish in the oven. Buzzing them up, I waited by the front door for them to appear. They appeared wearing a little black dress each, what looked like black thigh highs or stocking, and black heels. The cut of the dress showed off their cleavage and clung tight to their curves. I kissed each of them for a good minute or so before I escorted them inside. They only carried a small bag each. When asking why they’d packed lightly, they suggested that all they would need would be some lingerie to pose for me, and clothes to wear home on Sunday night.

Otherwise, they would be naked for my enjoyment.

Placing their things in my bedroom, I led them to the dining area, where I had already set the table, candles lit, a bottle of white wine chilling, music playing lightly in the background, the sort that would set the mood. Earned another kiss from them both, lasting a couple of minutes, feeling them press their delectable little bodies into me. I practically growled in return as I got a good handful of a pert ass on each of them.

Sitting each of them down, as the table was only a small square, they would sit to either side of me. I was only serving one of their favorite dishes, followed by dessert. Pouring them a glass of wine, we made small talk as I waited for the food to cook. I wasn’t an expert in the kitchen but I could follow a recipe and was confident enough to make my own subtle changes. They’d tasted my version more than once and loved it.

And they certainly loved it this time, making the sort of noises I hoped to hear later. My thoughts were reflected on my eyes and face as Sakura giggled.

“Oh, we’ll be making even better noises than that when you make love to us later. Gaeul and I have already agreed that we’d better go home Sunday night feeling very tender between our legs.”

“We took the pill for a while but stopped bothering since we’ve never been with a man before, Sakura and I ovulate at the same time, so when it’s time, you’d better get ready,” Gaeul added.

Serving dessert afterwards, they moved their chairs around next to mine so I could feed them both. After each spoonful, they made sure to kiss me, their hands caressing my body and crotch. I was now nursing a significant tent in my trousers and was rather eager to see them naked again. Thankfully, the apartment came with a dishwasher. Loading that up first, I left it to run for later as I was led out to the living room. I enjoyed the fact they were taking the lead as they wasted no time starting to undress me. Didn’t stop at my underwear, that came off quickly like everything else.

Pushing me back to sit on the lounge, they ensured my legs were spread wide enough so they could sit between them together. Feeling two tongues running up and down my shaft was an experience I never thought I’d have. But it was the look in their eyes that had me smile. They knew I’d make them happy later, but in this moment, it was simply about my pleasure.

“We’ve practiced on a toy or two,” Sakura explained, “Had to get over our gag reflex.”

“You’ve got a big cock too and we wanted to ensure we could swallow you whole,” Gaeul added.

I managed to a nod as I watched Sakura wrap her lips around my shaft. The groan I released made Gaeul giggle as she sat up enough to kiss me, Sakura rather quickly proving that the training worked as she swallowed more and more of my shaft. I groaned into Gaeul’s mouth, making her break the kiss as she needed to giggle, before Sakura removed her mouth and Gaeul took over.

“Fuck,” I murmured.

“Just imagine this every day for the rest of your life,” Sakura whispered, leaning up to kiss me next.

For the next minutes, Sakura and Gaeul alternated either blowing or kissing me. Their hands caressed my body, thighs or balls. They were both ever so eager to make me cum. Their dirty talk was on point and did nothing but reinforce how much they wanted this, and that they definitely wanted it inside them later.

Watching their heads bobbing up and down, eyes gazing up into mine with that mixture of love, lust and devotion, I had to run my fingers through their hair. The one not blowing me returned such a sweet smile, it would have made most other men cry.

“Who wants it?” I had to ask.

They both smiled and played their usual game, best of three. Sakura won, but whoever won never rubbed it in. It was something they’d done to keep things fair. Sure, they tried to out-think each other, but in the law of averages, it was likely the winning split was 50/50. Gaeul kissed Sakura on the cheek and told her how pretty she was, but how it was to see my cock in her mouth and down her throat.

“Maybe we can put on a show for him later too?” Sakura moaned as she moved faster on my cock, reading my body language and reactions. “Though I’m hoping he wants to lick our tight little pussies first?”

Sakura moaned. I groaned. And then I erupted. Sakura was ready for it, her eyes lighting up as she felt the first spurt of cum flood her mouth. Best orgasm of my life to that point, hands down, no contest. I knew the first time I would cum in either of them later would be better, but still, I know I sat there with a stupid smile on my face as I emptied myself.

Gaeul then handed me her phone, told me to record, as Sakura turned to kiss her. I knew exactly what they were doing. No chance of my cock softening for a second. They clutched each other tightly as they made out before they turned to me and showed the result.

“Holy shit,” I muttered, “You two little minxes.”

“Only ever for you. We’ll be your innocent best friends outside the bedroom, but we’ll do anything for you inside the bedroom. We’ve never done this and we’ll only ever do this for you,” Sakura stated.

“Then can you swallow?”

They complied immediately, smiling at me before showing me their empty mouths. “Good girls.”

Giggling, they helped me to my feet and led me towards my bedroom. I’d already set things up there. A nice bedspread and clean sheets. Scented candles. The same music softly in the background. That same game, Gaeul won, so I undressed her first, making out with her the entire time, Sakura pressing behind her so she wasn’t left out.

After undressing Sakura, we moved together onto the bed, the pair lying side by side as I sat on my knees, gazing down upon them. I disappeared for a few seconds, returning with my phone to snap a couple of photos. It quickly turned into quite the erotic photoshoot before they were both begging me to pleasure them.

I would have loved to please them both at once but I only had one mouth. Two hands, but only one mouth. Sensing my thoughts, they sat up for a moment and kissed my cheek. They knew I didn’t have a favourite. Despite they had their own unique personalities, despite how alike they could be at the same time.

“Okay, how about this...” Sakura stated, “Whoever gets first go here, the other makes love to him first. That okay with you, Gaeul?”

“Kura, I wouldn’t care if I was second both times.”

“I’m already thinking the same thing.” Sakura replied.

They smiled at each other before they played that same game. Gaeul won. While she was happy to win, there was a momentary look. The kiss they shared was soft but I could see the love. And it was obvious they were more than used to kissing each other and being intimate.

Lying back side by side again, Sakura lay on her side as Gaeul spread her legs for me. I lavished her body with attention, enjoying her moans and pleas that I give her ignored pussy my attention. But I was learning as I went along and she was loving every second. Her breasts and nipples were very sensitive. Kissing up and down her inner things made her squeal. She loved being tickled, the giggles warming my heart. Sakura was occasionally kissing her and I made sure she wasn’t feeling left out, trailing my fingers up and down her legs at the same time.

Gaeul almost sobbed when my tongue touched her pussy for the first time. I glanced at Sakura to see her blinking back tears. I knew she would react like that later. Gaeul tasted divine as I gently lapped at her juicy lips, watching as her juices dribbled down onto the blanket, such was her arousal. Her scent had my cock as hard as I could remember, making Sakura giggle when I moved and spread her legs, savouring her scent. Slightly different to Gaeul, but I gave her a quick kiss on her pussy before returning to Gaeul.

I’d always enjoyed going down on a girl, and the best part was those first few times when learning what worked best with a new lover. Thankfully, Gaeul was also a vocal lover, letting me know how she liked to licked, how she liked my fingers to move, when I finally slid them inside her, even suggested she’d like a finger or two up the bum at a later time, both stating against that their ass were completely untouched.

“Like that,” she moaned, “Like that. My clit. Just circle it like that.”

Doing as she asked, I noticed how her body reacted. An all over body shudder and the sort of guttural moan I’d heard from previous lovers. She’d just utterly loved what I’d done.

“Make her cum,” Sakura whispered, “I can’t wait for my turn.”

I glanced her way and smiled as I renewed my attack on Gaeul’s clit. With two fingers inside her, curled to find that sweet spot, once I’d found it, she was almost bucking, her back arching in a manner that told me she wasn’t going to be able to hold back.

When Gaeul did orgasm, it was the most beautiful thing I’d seen in my life. One hand with the bedsheet scrunched up. The other holding Sakura hand. I had to hold one of her thighs to stop her from squashing my head. If the neighbors were listening, I could only hope they thought we were being kinky.

I didn’t relent, my fingers starting to get quite wet, juices trickling into the palm of my hand. No chance of my jaw or tongue getting sore yet. Her entire body was on fire, incredibly sensitive, and I asked Sakura to give her nipples attention as they were crying out for it. As soon as Sakura latched onto one of them, Gaeul shuddered and enjoyed another orgasm.

“Please don’t stop,” Gaeul whimpered.

“Kura needs a turn,” I murmured, though my tongue was quickly back at work.

“Just one more, then you can make Kura cum!” she giggled.

As soon as I gave Gaeul one more toe-curling orgasm, I removed my fingers and rolled Sakura onto her back, smiling as she eagerly spread her legs though sat up to kiss me, almost licking my lips so she could taste her friend. “Tastes good, doesn’t she?”

“You taste wonderful too, Sakura,” Gaeul murmured, not surprised she was lying back with a broad grin on her face.

Learning Sakura’s body was just as much fun, kissing and touching where I thought she’d be sensitive. I didn’t want to do the same thing, so actually turned her over and focused on her back. Leaving soft kisses down her spine almost had her whimpering before I kissed and nibbled two very firm cheeks, Gaeul watching and giggling, stating she wanted that too.

Licking her pussy from the rear was also different, particularly as her rosebud was just there for the taking. Glancing at Gaeul, she smirked and nodded, so I moved my tongue and gave that some attention. The moan Sakura released suggested she loved it before she fell onto her side, giggling away. I couldn’t help chuckle at her reaction as I pulled her back towards me and dove for her pussy again.

I found that special spot inside her, clit was a little different to Gaeul, but she still made those cute little noises that Gaeul made when getting excited. I watched her face as she approached orgasm, the moans but also looking rather cute when nibbling on her bottom lip, trying to look innocent.

Thankfully, Sakura orgasmed and whatever she was going to say disappeared. Then I gave her a couple of others, doing my best to make each subsequent one even bigger, before she was asking or mercy, just like Gaeul.

Sitting back on my knees, I gazed down at the pair of them, lazing back with smiles on their lips and love in their eyes. Their eyes trailed down my body towards my cock, which was now eager for more action.

“I’ll get us a drink,” I stated, quickly getting up and grabbing the second bottle of wine from the fridge and three glasses. I rarely drank wine. To be honest, I couldn’t stand the stuff, but I’d sip at it occasionally if given a glass.

I was amused when they sculled their glasses and, after taking mine, Sakura laid back as Gaeul lay next to her. “I’m assuming you’ve used a sex toy or two?” I asked.

“Nothing as big as your cock though,” Sakura replied.

“So, you want this big cock inside you?”

“Please can you just fuck me already?” she plead, an almost innocent voice that didn’t fit the sight of her spread eagled on my bed, ready to have cock inside her.

She watched me wide-eyed as I positioned my body over hers. Fingers ran up one of my arms to my back, my other hand guiding my cock as I gently rubbed the head against her slit. She moaned against, still feeling a little sensitive from her earlier treatment. Gaeul was cuddling in as close as she could.

I groaned as I felt my cock slide inside her. Fuck, she was so tight. Sakura whimpered almost immediately, feeling her fingers dig inside me. Leaning down to kiss her, I think she appreciated that as I felt her breath catch, keeping her emotions under control.

Taking my time giving her my entire length, I gently pulled back and pushed forward. I groaned again, hearing Gaeul giggle next to me. “Fuck, Sakura,” I grunted, “You’re so fucking tight.”

“Just for you,” Sakura replied, hearing her breath catch again.

It took a couple of minutes to bury my length inside her. When we both looked down, our eyes met and we exchanged a smile before we made love. Sakura didn’t want to just lie there, she wanted to be an active participant. She’d obviously done a lot of reading but didn’t mind instruction on what would feel good for both of us. What I wanted was to see if she would cum while on her back. I knew it was a struggle for some, it would depend on depth, angle, and sometimes, it just didn’t happen.

Her fingers continued to caress my upper arms and back, kissing occasionally. Lifting her legs, she wrapped those around me, changing the angle, and she exclaimed excitedly I felt even deeper. I knew that could hurt, but she assured me it didn’t, for me to go a little faster. I knew, in the future, we’d probably do all sorts of stuff but, this first time, it was going to be tender and my pleasure was theirs.

“I love you,” she whispered, “God, I love you so much.”

“I love you both as much.”

“You’re going to feel emotional, Gaeul,” Sakura murmured

“Knowing he is inside me, and that he’s going to cum in me soon...” Gaeul moan.

“Soon enough,” I chuckled.

“Worth the wait?” Gaeul wondered.

Sakura scoffed. “Fuck! I wish we’d leapt on him the first time we met him!”

“Once he’s cum, we’ll suck him back to hardness together so I can have my turn.” Gaeul said.

I kept quiet as I focused on not climaxing just yet. I could have switched positions and done plenty of other things, but for a first time, I was keeping it simple. Thrusting faster, Sakura was really getting into it, meeting my thrusts and her face lit up. Begging me to fuck her, and she got what she wanted. Unfortunately, it also meant I wasn’t going to last long at all.

“Close,” I muttered.

“Cum in me,” Sakura moaned.

“Cum in her. Then you’re doing the same for me.” said Gaeul.

Hand on heart, it was probably the best orgasm of my life until that moment. A torrent of cum filled Sakura’s pussy, thrusting and pumping more and more cum. Surprised it didn’t end up coming out of her nose. I left my cock inside her until I simply had to pull out and relax on my back, smiling as I was immediately cuddled two goddesses on each side.

“Holy shit,” Sakura whispered into my ear, “Will it be like that every time?”

“Wait until we try positions that might just help you orgasm even harder.”

“Can I ride you?” Gaeul asked.

“We can do whatever is on your mind.” I paused before quickly adding, “Within reason.”

Gaeul kept her word though, moving down my body to take my cock in her mouth. She giggled, stating she could taste Sakura on my cock. Sakura slid a pair of fingers into her pussy, showing me her fingers glistened with my cum and her own juices, Gaeul not hesitating for a moment to suck on them. Fairly sure my cock twitched at the sight.

She had me rock hard again quickly, watching as she straddled me and I felt her hot pussy rub along my shaft. Moaning a couple of times, my eyes on her face as she did that sexy thing of biting her bottom lip, as she was obviously turned on, before she lifted herself up and impaled herself on my cock.

“Oh my god!” she cried out once she’d bottomed out a couple of minutes later, resting on my chest so I could cuddle her, feeling her gyrating her bottom ever so slightly to get used to me.

Eventually sitting back, I let her take complete control. I was nothing but a live toy to ride, as she took her time figuring out what felt really good. Watching her moan, giggle and climax while riding me was something that would live long in the memory back. Sakura was enjoying the show at the same time.

With her hands on my chest, Gaeul soon had a look in her eye that I recognised as I’d already seen it. Feeling her start to squeeze my cock as she rode me, she cried out as the orgasm tore through her body. Even Sakura was impressed as Gaeul moaned and whimpered, not wanting to stop riding and grinding on my cock for a second.

“You’ve got to do this too,” Gaeul almost sobbed, “Ride him too, but I get his cum.”

Gaeul enjoyed two more before she slid off, collapsing onto the bed, all aquiver, as Sakura mounted me slowly and figured things out herself. Watching her face light up as my fingers ran up her thighs to her hips to help keep her balance had me smiling, then I sat up and played with her nipples as she was soon working herself into a frenzy.

“Oh fuck!” she cried out, “Gaeul, we have to have this dick in us every night!”

“Think he’s going to say no?” asked Gaeul.

I laughed around the nipple in my mouth as Sakura enjoyed her first orgasm with my cock inside her. Lying back, she enjoyed three more before I warned her I was getting close. They swapped, though Gaeul wanted to be on her back for when I did cum. Back inside her again, she begged me to fuck her like I’d done Sakura.

Five minutes later, having done exactly that, I filled Gaeul like I’d filled Sakura. And that was me done for the night. I would get hard again, of that there wasn’t a doubt, but I’d only cum dust. We spent a few minutes catching our breath before agreeing to shower together. My hands were busy again as I loved feeling them up, and despite their own tiredness, they were both eager to have me make them orgasm again.

After another of their games, the girls decided that Sakura would spoon back against me, while Gaeul would sleep behind me, so I was in their sandwich. I think we probably fell asleep at the same time.

Waking up the next morning, I lifted Sakura’s leg and felt her up. It woke her up, whispering that’s how she’d always wanted me to wake her up, my fingers eventually sliding inside her. Gaeul woke up and spooned back against Sakura, Sakura giving her the same treatment. Both asked about me, and I said my only concern was making them as happy as I was.

Soon as they’d both had one orgasm, I had them both on their back and my mouth between one pair of legs, Gaeul enjoyed an orgasm quite quickly, before I moved to Sakura, who was so excited, she barely lasted a few minutes. I spent an hour doing that, pleasuring one until orgasm, then moving to pleasure the other one. They were absolutely loving it.

My reward? They had me stand up, both of them on their knees, practically worshipping my cock. And when it was time to cum, they performed the same erotic show, Gaeul taking the entire load in her mouth and sharing it with Sakura before they swallowed.

We relaxed after breakfast to recharge our batteries. I fucked both of them out on the balcony, which was amusing though I was confident we didn’t put on too much of a show. After lunch, I was treated to another dual blowjob, though this time it ended with my cum ending up on their faces, only at their demand. And if they want something, rest assured I will do it for them.

They cooked dinner for us that evening, adjourning to the living room afterwards, music playing as I danced with both of them. Sometimes with Gaeul, sometimes with Sakura, something all three of us together. Then they danced together and it was rather erotic particularly when they made out and started to strip each other. As soon as they were naked, I was dragged to the bedroom, stripped, with the pair of them hopping onto the bed, wiggling their fantastic butts in my direction.

Glancing back in my direction, they were grinning, ensuring they were smacking together. “Will you fuck us now?” Gaeul asked, that innocent voice again.

“We don’t like the boys at school,” Sakura added, “We want our best friend to fuck us.”

“They all have little dicks compared to you.”

“And we want to have your babies too.”

To say I fucked them into the mattress that night wouldn’t be an understatement. By the time I was done with them, I’d dumped a pair of loads into them each, and any thought of a shower before sleeping ended as they practically passed out, snuggling up together, laughing away as they admitted they were going to pay the price for it the next morning.

I woke early and ran a bath for them, lifting Sakura up first and lying her down in the tub, before doing the same for Gaeul, ensuring she was facing Sakura, thankful the tap and faucet was in the middle of the bath. As they relaxed, I told them I’d prepare breakfast for them. They walked out a good half an hour later as I was putting the finishing touches to our breakfast.

When they hugged me, I simply held them in my arms for a few minutes. They’d used some scented shampoo, strawberry, and their bodywash was of a fruit that mixed well with it. When they both gazed up at me, I knew in that moment, we were completely committed to each other.

Spending the day not having sex proved that we could revert to our normal friend relationship, hours of idle conversation, bad jokes, and plenty of laughs. But when it came for them to go back to their apartment, I had no idea it was going to feel as bad as it was. As for them, they were in bits by the time I walked them downstairs. Hugging them tightly again, we promised to see each other every weekend, as many times as we could during the week, and that we’d start discussing living together.

“Buy a house,” I suggested, “Particularly if we do have children together.”

Both of them grinned as although it had been mentioned in the throes of passion, having children was going to be a big deal for us.

For the next three weeks, we were together all weekend while we spent nearly every weeknight together as well. The pair of them usually came to my place. I was surprised when they said that my apartment was nicer, plus there was on selecting which bedroom we would use, something we’d have to do at their place.

—

After a month of us ‘dating’, we had a weekend where we had our first genuine threesomes. For the first four weekends, I would only have sex with one of them, the other lying next to us, watching and usually masturbating. I was told during the week that the next weekend was going to be special. Arriving home from work and a gym session to find Sakura and Gaeul already naked and waiting for me.

“Dinner later,” Sakura told me, “Sex first.”

That involved me being undressed by two, naked, horny goddess. As soon as I was naked, they were on their knees, play-fighting over who’d suck my cock. They eventually arrived at a system that worked for all three of us, though that feelings of two tongues working my shaft would never be replaced. Gaeul was the one who took the load and I was surprised Sakura told her to swallow it, stating she’d get her own load sometime during the weekend.

Anyway, threesomes. It was a weekend of experimentation. To me, there was nothing better than lying back with Sakura on my cock, Gaeul on my face. Whether she was sitting forward or reverse didn’t bother me, but if they sat reverse, that sweet little rosebud was on offer, and both had already gained a liking for having their asshole licked. And they were adamant that anal was still on the table.

What they enjoyed was me fucking one of them behind while the one being fucked could eat the other one out. Occasionally, they’d enjoy a sixty-nine so I’d fuck one of them while occasionally feel a tongue licking my shaft and balls. The hottest thing was filling one of them with cum, pulling out so the other could lick my cock clean, before watching her bury her face in her friends’ pussy to lick out some of my cum.

Sakura and Gaeul kept to their word about doing absolutely anything for me and I was treated to a sexy striptease show. And there was no faking from either of them. I knew how much they loved me, but there was no missing they loved each other just as much. I’d never felt any different sort of love for either of them, and they loved me just the same. Everything was equal.

During all this dating, we spent every weekend house hunting, while during the week, in between everything else, we were online searching for the right property. After only four months, we found what we wanted. Nothing fancy, just three-bedroom house, modern kitchen and dining room, huge bathroom plus an en-suite off the master bedroom. It cost a pretty penny, but pooling our three wages together meant we could afford it. We put in an offer which the soon to be previous owners accepted immediately.

Excitement was off the charts the day we were handed the keys. I did most of the moving though we did pull in a couple of friends to help out with the larger, bulkier items. However, we made sure no-one except the three of us had anything to do with organizing the bedrooms. The master bedroom would be the room shared by the three of us. However, one of the other bedrooms would be made up to look like someone slept in it.

We christened each and every room. Even the laundry room. Fucking Sakura and Gaeul while the washing machine was rumbling along was certainly a lot of fun. Nailing them from behind as they sat on their knees in the hallway was hilarious as they ended up with carpet burns.

We’d been living together for three months when I arrived home from work on a Friday. I didn’t expect to walk into the house to be greeted by candles burning everywhere. Dropping my bag in its usual position near the front door, I called out for the two of them. They walked out of our bathroom wearing grins on their faces and the smallest pieces of lingerie possible. Barely covered their nipples and pussy. Walking towards me, they both kissed me softly before taking a hand of mine each and leading me towards the dinner table, finding it already covered in dishes.

Taking a seat, I had to glance at one of them, then the other. “Okay, something’s going on,” I finally stated, “What is it?”

They exchanged a smile. “Um... There are two things actually. The first is that, tonight, we’re giving you our last virginity,” Sakura explained.

When I smiled, they both giggled. “And the second thing?”

“We’re both pregnant,” Gaeul replied.

#gaeul smut #sakura smut #lesserafim smut #le sserafim smut #ive smut #kpop smut #girl group smut #female idol smut #male reader

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wileys-russo · 9 months ago

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the royal box II l.williamson

i think this is genuinely up there with one of my favourite fics i've ever written the royal box II l.williamson

"i'd love to do lunch! i should probably find my seat soon but maybe next week? i'll get my agent to text me my calendar." you smiled, kissing the girls cheek and clinking your drink against hers in goodbye as you turned back to the bar.

not having seen her since you'd walked your first runway years ago it never ceased to amaze you how small the world could seem at these type of events, truly never knowing who you'd run into next, most of them a pleasant surprise.

"shame they let anybody in here now, for a royal box it’s really going downhill." but that voice, that raspy tone and infuriatingly attractive accent, that voice was not a pleasant surprise, in fact it was anything but.

"leah." you didn't even need to turn to look at her as she appeared beside you, nursing a drink of her own as the pair of you watched the pre set warm ups commence on the court below, stood together at a large crystal clear double paneled window right by the bar.

"well it can't be that royal of a box if you're here. unless they invited you because you're a royal pain in the ass?" you met her gaze with a fake smile, sipping at your drink as she puffed air from her nose.

"well you never seemed to complain when i was touching your ass darling." she quipped back smugly as you finished your drink with a fake chuckle, reaching over to place the empty glass on the bar top.

you hadn't seen her in months and yet it felt like only yesterday those same bright eyes had been locked with yours, often at any and all hours of the night and rarely ever stone cold sober as you'd roll around in bed together.

but swallowing the past you plastered a polite smile on your face and turned back to her. “lovely of your dad to let you borrow his suit, though it could have been tailored a little better-” you gently knocked your foot against hers, heel dragging up the edge of her pants that indeed were a centimeter or two too long to reveal her ankles.

"-then again, might be best to hide those shoes. did you loan those from your grandad?" you grimaced, leah kicking your foot away with a scowl, necking the last of her own drink.

“well speaking of hiding what a lovely change for you to put on a dress that isn't two sizes too small and soaked in cheap tequila and regret." the blonde smiled charmingly reaching over your shoulder to put her empty glass down next to yours, gesturing to the bartender that she'd like another.

"then again i know thats all about easy access for you, isn't it?" leah smirked as your eyes narrowed but still the fake smile remained on your lips.

“i seem to remember you never minded. less material to rip off and toss on your floor first, then throw at my face once we were done and you wanted me to leave, right?” you retorted back, not missing the way her eyes dipped up and down to check you out.

“do I have a glow about me? i’ve just been getting so much more beauty sleep without the needy calls at three in the morning.” leah questioned, patting her cheeks gently with a smug glint in her eyes as you laughed politely.

“no i was actually going to suggest you try a new eye cream, anti aging maybe? and these frown lines…yikes. then there’s those angry little eyebrows-” your finger wiggled around in front of her face pointing things out, lips curling upward at the way the smug humor was promptly wiped from her features.

“at least my eyebrows are real.” leah was quick to bite, jaw muscles visibly clenching as you chuckled, not at all ashamed of the fact you got yours tattooed, something leah used to find endlessly fascinating.

“well in my defense i have had a lot of practice faking things, haven't i?” you grinned watching her jaw tense even more, knowing exactly which kinks in her armor to poke at to get a reaction even after all this time had passed.

"please. i know you miss me!" leah's eyes rolled cockily as you laughed sarcastically. “aw is that what you have to tell yourself to feel better? baby I haven’t missed you at all.” you promised as her eyes now rolled.

“yeah you wish, i’ve missed you even less.”

“did dad do your tie for you as well or have we learned how to do it ourselves by now?” you pouted mockingly, reaching over and tightening the knot of her tie as she pushed your hands away and quickly tugged it back looser again.

“booked any genuine campaigns yet or is mummy still flashing the nepotism card to get you on the runway?” leah pouted right back as you scoffed and she grinned, also knowing exactly where to poke at you to get what she wanted.

“please like you don’t stalk my socials, i see you watching my stories.” you snickered, eyes drifting away from her and back down to the court where things seemed to be about to start.

“you think about me so much you feel the need to check? do you post things hoping i'll see them? aw baby girl that’s so sweet of you.” leah cooed pinching your cheek as you smacked her hand off you with a glare.

“don’t call me that.” you warned, hating the glee which filled her face at your obvious discontent, cursing yourself internally for allowing her to see as much.

“oh i'm sorry, struck a nerve did i? good girl, is that better?” leah leaned in closer to whisper, lips grazing your ear as she grabbed a fresh drink from the bar and retracted, the hair on the back of your neck standing to attention.

you kept quiet at that, turning away from her and ordering a new drink of your own with a polite smile, still feeling her eyes on your back as she made no move to leave.

"surely there's some doe eyed idiot with a complex for athletes that you can go swoon with the stories of you kicking things to boost your microsized ego?" you rolled your eyes hearing her chuckle and move to lean against the bar right beside you again.

"footballs. kicking footballs, never could learn the rules or the lingo could you? or maybe you just pretend not to know so i'll explain to you over and over and over, always giving you the attention you want so badly." leahs finger swiped at your nose as you gave her a hard look and shoved at her shoulder.

"speaking of idiots, will that wet mop with teeth and a combover you call a boyfriend be joining us?” leah questioned, spinning around so her back leant against the bar top and her eyes scanned the room, everyone slowly filing out to find their seats.

"you really have been keeping tabs." you glanced up at her with a small smirk as she chose not to acknowledge your statement.

“but no he’s probably off partying in magaluf or ibiza spreading some sort of sexually transmitted disease, waving his little dick around and shoving it into everything that moves.” you rolled your eyes with disdain at the mention of your anything but loyal ex, the boy having slept with more women just while he was with you than you think you had your entire lifetime.

"ahh i see, ex boyfriend then. did he catch the sti from you? or was it one pregnancy scare too many that pushed the unwilling father to be away.” leah smirked though she felt you stiffen beside her and suddenly alarm bells went off in her head that maybe she'd taken things just a step too far.

"fuck you leah." you didn't even hang around to wait for your drink, giving the taller girl one final venomous look which made her stomach drop before you were storming off away from her to find your seat.

it had happened when you least expected it.

you'd not seen leah for a couple of weeks as she was on camp for england, but nothing about your hook ups regular or scheduled and certainly not monogamous you'd busied yourself seeing other people.

this night in particular it had been a rather handsome male model you'd been on a shoot with, accepting his offer of dinner and drinks once you'd wrapped for the day, raised never to say no to a free meal or a hot date.

one thing lead to another and later that night you found yourself in a club packed with blurred faceless bodies, surrounded by strangers and drowning yourself in shots to the point you didn't even remember leaving and going home with him.

there was however one thing that was burned into your mind, the biggest regret of your life as the condom had broke while the two of you were going at it.

normally you were always careful and you'd never be this stupid but the boy dismissing it himself you'd been far too drunk to disagree as he made no move to pull out.

not even getting to have a release yourself it had been a gloriously underwhelming seven minutes before he was satisfied and then suddenly too tired to return the favor.

again with potentially more cheap vodka in your system than blood you'd passed out beside him, spending the night in his bed and waking up hours later with a pounding headache and a deep rooted shame as you sat up and slivers of last night flickered through your mind.

grabbing your clothes you quickly dressed and fled his house, no idea where you were as you sat on his front steps and bounced your knee, the shame spreading through your body quickly morphing into anxiety as your fight or flight kicked in.

knowing there was one person who would answer this time of morning you clicked call, phone held to your ear and skin crawling with disgust as you prayed she would come through.

sure enough after only a few rings the dial tone clicked and you heard a yawn. "this is unusually early for a hook up even for you, what you need and miss me this badly?" the teasing tone and snicker died in her mouth hearing how you spoke her name.

"leah." you could barely get it out without crying, covering your mouth as reality set in and the blonde on the other end sat up in her bed, rubbing her eyes and trying to wake herself up properly.

"whats happened? whats wrong?" the concern in her voice was lost on you as you took a shaky breath. "can you come pick me up please? i don't know where i am but i can send you my location." you asked quietly, leah already out of bed and rummaging around for her car keys.

"yeah send it now, i'll be there soon."

you'd moved away from his house lingering on the curb out front when you heard her pull up, standing to your feet and hurrying to her car just wanting to get as far away from here as possible.

leah had intended to get out of the car to check on you but you were already up and opening the passenger door, sliding into her car and avoiding her gaze as you buckled yourself in.

"you alright?" leah asked cautiously voice thick with sleep, taking in your disheveled appearance and oddly quiet manner with a frown. "i'm fine." you muttered quietly, fiddling with your hands in your lap as you stared down at the floor.

"did something happen?" leah asked carefully though you knew what she meant, a gentle nudge to your side having her offering you a bottle of water she'd quickly grabbed from her fridge as she flew out the door.

"can you take me to a pharmacy please? there's one open about ten minutes from here." you asked after accepting the water with a quiet thank you, leah hesitating for a moment which you felt.

"leah, please." you finally looked up and met her gaze, silence filling the car as the blondes eyes raked over you. "actually don't worry i should have just called an uber or something i'm sorry." you shook your head, moving to unclip your seatbelt as leahs hand shot to grab yours.

"no, please i really don't want you in an uber by yourself right now. put the address in and i'll take you." leah promised softly, squeezing your hand and waiting until you nodded to let go, starting the car back up as you typed the address into her gps system.

there wasn't another word exchanged between the pair of you, leah focused on the road and your own gaze trained out the window, occasionally taking small sips of the cold bottle of water clenched in your hand.

"you don't need to come in, i can find my way home from here." you unclipped yourself as leah pulled up outside the small block of shops where the twenty four seven pharmacy was.

"thank you leah." you spoke sincerely and softly, leaning across the console to kiss her cheek, slipping out of the car before the blonde could even get a word out.

she sat there stumped for a second watching your figure disappear into the pharmacy, shaking her head and hurrying to unclip her own belt, turning off the car and hurrying in after you.

"leah what-" you looked up in surprise as she appeared beside you, crinkle of confusion in your eyebrows as the blonde opened and closed her mouth a few times.

"sunglasses! i need sunglasses and...pads?" she floundered around for an excuse, grabbing a pair of shades off the rack in front of you and slipping them on with an awkward smile.

you couldn't help but chuckle, seeing what she was doing but appreciating it none the less. "thank you." you smiled, leah nodding and darting off to grab the pads she had no intention of using as you waited for the pharmacist.

"what can i get for you love?" the older woman eventually appeared in front of you as you shifted uncomfortably. "can i get the morning after pill please?" you asked quietly, not missing the judgement that flashed across her face though it was gone as soon as it appeared.

you jumped at a loud clatter behind you glancing over your shoulder to see a flustered looking leah scrambling to clean up the pile of baby formula tins she'd just knocked over, sunglasses still covering her eyes.

"sorry! sorry! i just...i got this." leah motioned to the tins, cheeks flushed bright red in embarrassment as you bit the inside of your own cheek to hide a smile, hearing the pharmacist sigh.

"is this pill for yourself or someone else?" the woman asked in a monotone, kindness drained from her voice as the same cocktail of shame, anxiety and disgust leapt into your mouth like bile.

"myself."

"have you considered all of your options?" the woman asked again as you frowned with confusion. "my options?" you questioned as again the woman sighed as if you were doing her a grave disservice.

"your options. have you taken a test? seen a doctor? do you know if you are actually pregnant?" the woman raised an eyebrow as your mouth opened and closed a few times, caught off guard by the questions.

"excuse me? it is literally called the morning after pill. how would she have had time to go see a doctor and take a test? not that any of that is your business." leah was suddenly beside you, sunglasses pushed onto her forehead and signature scowl on her face.

"well i-"

"exactly. so can you please get her the fucking pill? legally i don't think she's required to do anything than prove she's of age to purchase it." leah warned seriously as the womans eyes widened and she nodded, quickly rummaging around behind her.

"here." she placed it down in front of you and rang you up, your phone tapping to pay as leah stared the woman down firmly. "thank you." the blonde smiled though it didn't reach her eyes, the two of you quickly making your way out of the store and back to leahs car.

"seems all i'm doing today is saying thank you." you smiled hovering by her car, leah dismissing it with a small wave. "you might need to wait and take that in a little bit though." leah gestured for you to get into the car as she rounded to her own side.

"why?" you asked, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as she started up the engine, arm draped across the back of your seat looking over her shoulder with a grin.

"well because i just realised i didn't pay for these sunglasses."

"we're at your place?" you questioned later as the blonde pulled into her driveway and cut the engine off. you'd already taken the pill during the drive, missing the way leahs eyes flickered to you every few minutes to check you were okay.

"yeah i figured you probably shouldn't be by yourself, just in case theres any side effects or anything." leah brushed it off as you nodded slowly, genuinely too tired and hungover to find an argument.

you followed her out of the car and into her home, finding it strange to be stood here in broad daylight and uncertain of what was to come, awkwardly wrapping your arms around yourself.

"do you want a shower?" leah offered as you glanced down and realised you really could use one, the thought of being able to wash off the remnants of last night too tempting to turn down.

"yeah that would be great, thank you."

you exhaled heavily as you exited leahs shower already feeling better, finding a bundle of clean clothes waiting at the door for you to change into.

you couldn't help but inhale as you wiggled yourself into her clothes, drowned in the scent of leahs expensive perfume and green apple body wash, unable to deny the comfort it strangely provided you.

"all good?" leah asked as you appeared, the girl also unable to deny the weird way her stomach twisted seeing you clad in her clothes. "yeah your water pressure is insane." you chuckled making her grin, licking a dollop of jam off her thumb.

"thought you might want something to eat but i haven't exactly done my groceries yet." leah offered you a plate of toast, slight pink blush in her cheeks, something you'd not seen from the footballer the entire time you'd known her.

"its perfect." you assured, ignoring the urge to tease her for blushing knowing the girl had practically saved you today and you owed her a great debt of gratitude.

"do you want to watch something?" leah offered, thumb pointing to the lounge as you nodded, following her over here as you sat down, leah right beside you with her own plate and grabbing the remote.

"is that...just plain bread?" you asked, amusement present in your features at the blondes choice of breakfast. "yeah, so?" she scoffed defensively as you raised your hands up in surrender.

"nothing...the stomach wants what it wants." you laughed, leah kicking you playfully and grabbing her plate, settling back into the lounge and propping her sock covered feet onto the coffee table.

"you watch this?" you asked with surprise as she flicked on last nights episode of big brother. "you don't?" she questioned with a mouthful of bread as you grimaced and knocked your knee into hers.

"of course i do, just didn't picture englands captain wasted her time on trashy reality tv!" you teased taking a bite of your toast as she shrugged, reaching behind her to grab a blanket off the back of the lounge, putting down her plate and gesturing for you to put your arms up as she draped it across the two of you.

"might be a god in the bedroom but i am still human." she winked as you jokingly gagged and she pulled a face, settling back down and munching on her plain bread as a comfortable silence fell between the pair of you.

you weren't sure when you fell asleep but you awoke several hours later dazed and confused. you tensed realising you weren't alone, an arm draped across your midsection as you groggily rubbed your eyes, blinking a few times and coming to.

you quickly realised it was leah draped across you, a mess of blonde hair covering her face as it was tucked into your shoulder, her arm slung tightly across your midsection, other hand intertwined with yours as you realised your fingers were interlocked.

you felt weird, no-you felt good. it felt strangely right to be in this foreign position with her and that was terrifying, the subtle and warm and welcoming domesticity of the situation filled you with dread and with fear.

you couldn't develop feelings for her, not for leah.

leah who wouldn't even look at you after she'd spend hours worshipping your body and having you chanting her name among all sorts of obscenities.

leah who would just toss you your clothes and wander off for a shower or roll back over in bed facing away from you, which you knew all too well was the unspoken cue for you to leave.

yet here she was curled up into you, legs stretched out across the coffee table and tucked under a blanket, holding your hand and your body in a way so tender you had almost forgotten what sincere non sexual intimacy felt like.

so you did what countless nights spent with her had trained you to, you left.

carefully unwinding yourself out of her grip the blonde had stirred but remained asleep, allowing you the time to shrug off her clothes and slip back into your dress from the night before with a disgusted grimace at the memories they held.

folding up her clothes and leaving them on the arm of the lounge you gave her one last look, a weird longing to just wrap yourself back up in her arms all you needed to push you out her front door.

leah had woken up not long after, frown on her face as she realized you weren't beside her anymore and the clothes you'd had on were neatly folded a few metres away, and since that morning leah hadn't heard a word from you.

you sighed deeply as you watched the blonde make her way down the row of seats, smiling and shaking hands as she went but heading right for you.

"you have to be joking." you mumbled to yourself as she dropped herself in the spare seat right beside you, not missing the way you physically recoiled and pulled your body as far to the other side of your seat as you could to get away from her.

"you forgot your drink." leah offered it out to you, giving an awkward smile as you glanced at her but accepted it none the less, taking a sip and sitting it down in the holder on your right.

"i'm not thanking you." you warned her, hoping that was all she wanted and would head off to another seat but you had no such luck as she wriggled around and made herself comfortable.

"look i'm really sorry i took that way too far and-" you almost thought you might not hear from her again as the set started, leah leaning in to whisper to you as your eyes closed and you sighed again.

"its fine, just shut up leah." you sharply cut her off, the blonde nodding and leaning back, both of you pulled into conversations with other people as the box buzzed with quiet chatter.

eventually though you once again found yourself with not much else to occupy you as the chatter died out and the match began to heat up, leah muttering commentary under her breath as you chanced a look at her and chuckled at the concentrated scowl on her face.

"what?" she didn't miss it as your head snapped forwards again and you shrugged. "no go on, whats so amusing?" she questioned crossing her arms and turning her body just slightly toward you.

"frown lines." you pointed to your own forehead and back to hers with a small smile as her cheeks flushed red. "oh." she was quick to relax her face, though as you chanced another look toward her a few minutes later you smiled seeing the scowl right back there again.

"shut up i can't help it, this stresses me out." leah knocked her knee into yours and crossed her arms over her chest. "why? have you given up football for a budding tennis career?" you chuckled as she mocked you and pulled a face.

"no. but i know what the pressure is like to play a sport at this high a level, and how hard you are on yourself for every little thing. even without the eyes on you here they'll be thinking about the media, fans, family, everyone is just watching and waiting, hoping you mess up or do something dumb they can rip you apart for." leah retorted as your face softened a little at her words.

"yeah i sort of understand that." you agreed, feeling not too dissimilarly when you walked a runway. "maybe i'll come to your next show and kick a football at you." leah commented casually as your head snapped toward her, the cheeky grin all you needed to know she was messing about as your eyes rolled and a small smile tugged at your lips which you quickly corrected.

"i saw that." "you're getting heatstroke. only you would wear a three piece charcoal suit in the middle of summer." "summer? have you seen those clouds? i'll put a tenner on that we don't even get through the next set before a rain break."

and annoyingly enough of course leah was correct, the day wrapping up as the skies had opened and an icy wind was whipping around the air, nipping and pinching at every scrap of flesh it came into contact with.

you nodded along with a polite smile, chatting with a few people as you were longing to leave, the cold chill setting into your skin as goosebumps appeared and your arms were wrapped tightly around you.

finally their own car arrived and they bid you goodbye, a sigh of relief leaving your lips as you checked the eta for your uber and saw it wasn't too far away.

"see i told you it would rain." you jolted as soft material settled over your shoulders, turning around to meet a familiar smile.

"don't. you're going to get yourself sick if you stand here shivering like an idiot." leah cut you off before you could even say what she knew you were about to, hands knocking away your own which tried to shrug off her suit jacket she'd draped over you.

"thank you." you admitted with a smile, leah nodding and checking her phone as you tried to ignore just how good she looked. "try not to get it wet, its not actually dad its dior!" the blonde smirked as you playfully rolled your eyes.

"got any plans for tonight?" you made conversation as the pair of you stood side by side, leah shaking her head and shoving her hands into her pockets, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet.

before you were able to stop yourself or think it through the words were tumbling out of your mouth with a mind of their own.

"do you feel like a dance?"

a dance had been putting it mildly as you moved and swayed your body to the beat, bass so thunderous it pumped and shook the floor beneath you.

taking leah as your plus one you'd arrived to the party you'd been invited to, the blonde shocked to say the least as you'd dragged her into the large warehouse where it was taking place.

it had all started off tame enough, finding a table of your friends you sat down with leah by your side, the blondes charming demeanor taking over as she found no issues holding her own in conversation with them.

then someone had appeared with a round of shots, and well it all seemed to go downhill from there.

which hours later is what had head to the liquid confidence flowing through both yours and leahs veins, her body pressed against yours as lights pulsed around you only showing flickers of her face every now and then.

a familiar urge starting to grow in the coil of your stomach you grabbed the defenders hands, placing them on your stomach and pushing your ass back into her, leaning your head back on her shoulder and feeling her nose tuck into your neck.

“i think you’ve forgotten i know all of your tricks pretty girl.” leah laughed, lips grazing your ear as you strained to hear her over the thumping music engulfing the pair of you.

reaching up and tangling a hand in her hair you pulled her closer, lips kissing at her jaw and feeling her own hands begin to wander as your teeth tugged at her earlobe.

“and I think you’ve forgotten i know all your weaknesses, captain."

that was the final nail in the coffin, a small frown creased into your features as you felt her pull away and worried if you'd misread the signals you thought she'd been giving all night.

but all of that was blown to hell and back as her hand found its home against the back of your neck and she pressed into you again, leading you out of the mass of sweaty bodies on the dance floor.

a grin was plastered on your face as she snagged her suit jacket off the back of her chair and grabbed your hand with her other, pulling you with her toward the exit.

"hi." you smiled as the fresh air hit you, the pair of you wandering away from the drunken fallen soldiers littering the exit, leah pulling your body into hers as you hid yourselves around a corner out of sight.

"hello." she grinned back, hands falling either side of your face as your hand grabbed the back of her neck, finally pulling her mouth to meet yours as the pair of you melted into one another.

"this is a bad idea right?" you mumbled against her lips feeling her nod. "terrible idea." she pulled away momentarily, chest heaving and face flushed pink as you tangled your hands in her blonde locks and she grinned.

"so, your place or mine?"

"jesus christ leah." you exhaled shakily, rolling off of her and running a hand through your hair, struggling to catch your breath as you closed your eyes for a moment and felt her body vibrate with quiet laughter beside you.

"you still with me?" you opened them to see her hovering over you, cheeky smile on her lips as you nodded. "that certainly didn't sound fake." her smile morphed into a smirk as you pushed her and she collapsed back into the pillows beside you.

"that was what that was about? proving a point?" you struggled to get out, coming down from your fourth orgasm in a row. "no! well not the first three anyway, but that one? yeah that one was personal." leah confirmed cockily as you reached a hand over to gently slap her cheek, feeling her lips kiss at your palm with a chuckle.

the pair of you had barely made it through her front door, hands burning and twitching as you'd done your best to keep them off one another in the excruciatingly long uber ride back.

"fuck me." leah had exhaled as you wasted no time dropping to your knees in front of her the moment you'd crossed the threshold of the bedroom, tugging at her pants as she clumsily fumbled with her belt.

"i'm trying to." you'd grinned up at her making her eyes roll as she tangled a hand in your hair, having started off pleasuring her first and reaping in the moans you drew from the older girl while your face was buried between her legs.

then things had moved to the bed and leah wasted no time reminding you that just because you struck first she was the one in control, and what felt like hours later here you were struggling to return to earth.

"i should go." your body shifted back into autopilot as you'd finally caught your breath, sitting up and pushing your hair to one side of your head as you covered yourself with the blanket and leaned down to rummage through the pile of clothes on the floor for your own.

"or you could stay." you froze at that, time seeming to stand still as leah tried to push down the nerves which consumed her following her statement, fidgeting with her fingers which were hidden beneath the blanket.

“you never ask me to stay.” you still hadn't moved, arm slung over the edge of the bed and your dress in hand, this uncharted territory quite terrifying as you had no idea what would come next.

“you never seemed like you wanted to.” you sat up at that, looking down at her with a slight frown. "you never seemed like you wanted me to." you quipped back as leah sighed, running her hands down her face and flopping them onto the mattress.

"i didn't think i did." she admitted quietly, glancing up at you as you looked on curiously and nodded for her to continue. "i thought this was just casual hook ups. then you called me that morning from that guys house and hearing how upset you were made me worried, more worried than i would be for someone i didn't care about." she sighed, avoiding looking at you now.

"then we came back here and you showered and wore my clothes and we hung out and it felt good. i thought maybe we might be able to explore something more than just hooking up but..." she trailed off as now you looked away and bit the inside of your cheek.

"but then i left." you finished for her as she nodded. "why didn't you ever answer when i reached out afterwards?" leah asked as you shuffled back to lay down again beside her.

"well when i called you that morning i thought it was just auto pilot. but then you were so helpful and sweet and we did hang out which was different but not in a bad way." you paused to think over your next words.

"then i woke up and you were holding me which felt...good, and that scared me. we've never been intimate in a non sexual way and i guess i just assumed it was a reflex for you since you were asleep, because every time we'd sleep together-" you were stopped as leah cut you off.

"-i'd throw your clothes at you and expect you to leave." the blonde admitted, the two of you sharing a look and a small smile, cheeks flushed with color.

"yes. then i panicked because it felt good and different and weird, and i assumed you'd not share those feelings and just break things off anyway, so i broke it off first to save myself and here we are." your hand moved closer to brush against hers, a silence falling between you.

"so.." leah trailed off, her leg moving next to graze yours. "so..." you echoed, finger stretching to trace a line down the back of her hand.

"would you want to stay over then?" leah broke first, head turning to face you as you noticed the obvious worry in her eyes at what you would say.

"okay." you agreed, corners of your mouth tugging upward as her eyebrows raised in clear surprise. "but you’re making me breakfast in the morning.” you declared, leahs laugh echoing around the room.

"deal. jam on toast it is!" she teased, a warmth spreading through your body as her hand moved again to sit on top of yours, her fingers linking and sliding around your own, the blonde raising it up and placing a soft kiss to your palm again.

"well for me. just plain bread for you right?" you quipped back, catching her off guard as you leaned in and pecked her lips, darting back away before she could return the gesture with a twinkle in your eyes.

“a fun fact you’ll grow to love is i am a terrible chef.” leah admitted as now your laugh filled the room, shuffling closer and turning on your side to face her as she did the same, feet nudging yours apart to slot her leg in between yours.

“and what else should I know?” you smiled, pointer finger of your free hand tracing absentminded lines across her face. "mm well i eat a plain ham sandwich before and after every game, i am a huge star wars nerd, i love country music...and i would really like to take you on a proper date." leah finished with a smile that had you reeling, cheeks heating up even more.

"do the tips of your ears always go red when you're embarrassed? how have i noticed that before thats adorable?" leah cooed and tugged at them as you whined and leaned forward pressing your face into her shoulder.

"leave me alone." you grumbled, pulling your head back onto the pillow and resuming tracing the curve of her jaw. “i think you’re working backwards, I don’t normally sleep with women on the first date.” you teased, green eyes rolling playfully.

"well I don’t normally sleep with women i date.” she smiled charmingly for a moment before the realization dawned on her she'd not quite said that right and she frowned.

“no that came out wrong i meant i-" you didn't let her finish, pressing your lips against hers with a laugh, your mouths moving together in perfect harmony.

"shut up. i'd love to go on a date with you.” you promised, pecking her lips a few more times and melting at the way her face lit up. "yeah?" you nodded. "yeah."

"now something you'll learn to love about me, i've never seen a single star wars movie." you confessed, leahs jaw dropping in disbelief as she sat up so quickly it made you jolt in shock.

"what are you doing?" you questioned confused as she pulled her body away from you, rolling out of bed still completely naked and rushing around her room.

"you, are getting a movie education." she pointed to you threateningly, disappearing into her closet for a moment.

"right now? leah we just had sex i'm naked!" you laughed, wincing as a bundle of material hit you in the face, pulling it away and holding it up.

"oh this is the darth vader guy right? luke skywalkers dad?" you realised who was on the shirt as leah stopped her rushing about, stood at the end of the bed staring at you in disbelief.

"that is like the biggest plot twist of the franchise how on earth did you know that?" "leah...vater in german literally means father!"

"have you always been such a know it all?" leah scoffed as you rolled your eyes, sitting up and tugging her shirt over your head, reaching down to find your underwear.

"i'm making popcorn, get comfy!" leah called out as she darted out of her bedroom. "leah at least put some pants on!" you laughed at her naked form flitting around the kitchen.

"well another fun fact for you to know pretty girl, wearing pants is actually banned in this house."

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson #woso #woso community #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs

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casscainmainly · 7 months ago

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Why Duke Thomas Should Be A Dick Grayson Hater

Dick and Duke is such an underrated and underexplored relationship. Here is my pitch for why Duke should be a Dick Grayson hater.

1. The Rooftop Thing

Reason number one and the start of Duke's grudge should be the rooftop incident in Robin War. Dick, as part of his plan or whatever, leads Duke to a roof and abandons him to the cops.

LOOK AT DICK'S SMUG FACE. Tell me you wouldn't hold a grudge too if this was the FIRST major interaction you had with him?? Duke should use this against him at any possible opportunity.

2. ACAB

From We Are Robin #2. Once Duke finds out Dick used to be a cop, it's OVER for him.

3. Jason and Damian

Duke is quite close with Jason and Damian (in my head, particularly Damian - that's his LITTLE BROTHER). Anyway, these two are obsessed with Dick. You have Jason, with his miles-long brother issues that puts Dick on a pedestal, and you have Damian, who thinks Dick is the best person on Earth who can do no wrong. They would talk Duke's ears off about him. Duke would HATE IT.

4. Robin

This panel from Night of the Monster Men sums up quite nicely the difference in the way Dick and Duke approach vigilantism. Duke is the 'idealised' Robin, whose Robin-ing isn't contingent on Batman; Dick is more or less too tied up in Bruce. I think, because the Robin identity means a lot to Duke, having the original Robin be like this would irk Duke a LOT.

5. Tom Taylor

SPOILERS FOR CURRENT NIGHTWING RUN: in Nightwing #116, Dick gets framed for murder and Babs tells him to reveal he's Nightwing to clear him of suspicion. She says Bruce suggested it, and recounts everyone who agreed:

Hm. Is someone missing here? Oh yeah: DUKE. TT probably just forgot Duke, but where's the fun in that? Instead, if Duke is a Dick Grayson hater, you have the funniest scene imaginable. Everyone gathered in the Batcave, laying down their identities for Dick, and Duke is like 'I don't give a damn. He can rot in jail.' and peaces out.

BONUS points if he does this to get back at Dick for reason number 1.

6. Parallels

Duke's origin deliberately mirrors Bruce's, but that means it mirrors Dick's as well. Duke and Dick parallels go insane: they both had loving families, lost both parents at once, were in the foster system (varyingly for Dick but for the purposes of this post I'm gonna include it), were wards/not adopted by Bruce initially, have a huge reverence for family, have a thing about heights, view Robin as separate from Batman, forged their own identities, etc.

Tell me this page doesn't slap:

Anyway Duke would HATE this too. He'd be so annoyed that the person he has the most in common with is Dick, and that would fuel his Dick Grayson haterism.

Dick, on the other hand, has no hard feelings towards Duke. Duke would be glowering at him from the corner of the room and Dick would meet his gaze and be like 'ah Duke is so cute' and smile back. This would make Duke 10000x angrier.

Anyway that's my ideal Dick and Duke dynamic, feel free to add or modify or disagree with anything!!

#dick grayson #duke thomas #batman #let duke thomas be a hater 2024 #dick 100% knows that duke low-key hates him and he finds it funny #damian and tim worshipping him and jason having complicated feelings about dick that borders on obsession and cass being jealous #and duke is just. i hate this man #don't get me wrong duke and dick brotherisms >>>>>#it's just more fun where there's a little conflict #i may have made this because i got so upset about those batfamily relationship polls #PUT SOME RESPECT ON DUKE RELATIONSHIPS

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societyfolklore · 5 days ago

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Trapped Together

Title: Trapped Together

Pairing: Sheild!Bucky Barnes x Sheild!Female Reader

Summary: A mission doesn’t go as planed. The result? Bucky and you find yourselves handcuffed together without the key and no easy way out.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: / Explicit Content /18+, Minors DNI, Accidental Handcuffs, Forced Proximity, Smut, Fingering, Unprotected sex, Soft Dom Bucky, Mild Dubcon Elements (squint), Mentions of thigh riding, Porn with min plot.. but yeah.. No Beta

A/N: my entry for @avengers-assemble-bingo for Bucky 108th Bday event – Final square! Square: A2 – ‘I didn’t do a thing’ Card Number: 4B003 The mission was supposed to be simple- just a routine investigation of an old HYDRA base. No hostiles, no active threats, just a sweep for any lingering tech or classified intel. But, of course, things didn’t go to plan.

The air was thick with dust and the scent of rusted metal as you navigated the dimly lit corridors, your boots scuffing softly against the cracked concrete floor. The remains of outdated HYDRA technology sat abandoned, wires frayed, panels dark, the remnants of a long-dead organization still clutching at relevance. It should have been nothing more than a cleanup job- catalogue the junk, confirm there were no active threats, and get the hell out.

You were scanning a particularly decrepit-looking console, fingers grazing over a series of faded HYDRA insignias, when something clicked.

A sharp snap echoed through the room as a metal cuff clamped down around your wrist.

“Oh, shit,” you muttered, instinctively tugging at it.

“What happened?”

Bucky’s voice was immediate, sharp with concern. He was at your side in an instant, his vibranium hand gently gripped your forearm as he inspected the cuff. His brows furrowed as he studied the mechanism, and before you could warn him to be careful, his metal fingers drifted too close.

With a soft hiss, another cuff snapped into place- this time, locking around his vibranium wrist.

You both froze.

“Seriously?” you exhaled, staring at the unforgiving metal that now physically attached you to Bucky Barnes.

He let out a slow, deliberate breath through his nose. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Your heart hammered as you gave the restraint a sharp tug, testing it. The metal didn’t so much as shift. You turned, twisting your wrist, but Bucky moved with you- because there was no getting away.

Panic crept into your voice. “Okay, okay, we can just take these off, right?”

Bucky pulled at his side, first experimentally, then harder. The muscles in his jaw twitched as he yanked at it, but the cuff refused to budge. His frown deepened as he examined the lock.

“No keyhole.”

You blinked. “What do you mean ‘no keyhole’?”

“I mean,” he muttered, voice edged with irritation, “there’s no keyhole. No latch, no release.”

Your stomach did an uncomfortable flip. “So… what? We cut them off?”

Bucky flexed his vibranium fingers. “They’re HYDRA-made. If I try to break them, I could crush your wrist in the process.”

The realization settled between you, heavy and unshakable.

You inhaled sharply. “Fantastic.” Then, with far less patience: “We’re stuck.”

Bucky exhaled, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “Yup.”

And then the inevitable happened.

“This is your fault!” you snapped, yanking at the cuff in frustration, your wrist burning from the chafing metal.

Bucky had the audacity to smirk. “Doll, I didn’t do a thing.”

“You- ugh!” You yanked again, but it was pointless. You weren’t getting out of this without cutting off his damn arm, and even you weren’t cruel enough to suggest that he try to dismantle parts of it.

Being this close to him was already annoying on the best of days. His constant 'follow my lead' attitude, the way he always seemed so sure of himself- it drove you insane. And now? Now you were literally stuck to him. Your pulse kicked up for reasons you refused to acknowledge, and you scowled, masking the unease with irritation.

You huffed, turning your attention back to the restraint. “We need to find a way to break these.”

Bucky tilted his head, looking far too entertained. “Oh, I dunno. Could be fun like this.”

Your glare could have cut through steel. “We are not staying cuffed together, Barnes.”

Bucky shrugged, tugging lightly at the cuffs again. “I’m sure Stark will get us out of these once we get home.”

You grumbled under your breath. “Great. Our extraction isn’t scheduled until tomorrow.”

Bucky let out a dry chuckle. "Guess that means we're getting real cozy till then, huh?" He glanced down at where your wrists were bound together and smirked. "Hope you don’t snore, Doll."

Despite your efforts there was no solution. The cuffs were far beyond ordinary restraints. No brute force, no backdoor override, no simple trick was going to free you. And with Bucky’s metal arm restrained, even he wasn’t willing to risk hurting you to break them.

Which meant you had no choice but to wait for Tony to take a look.

And that? That was going to be a problem.

By the time night fell, exhaustion was settling in. You both managed to find a somewhat decent place to rest- an old, creaking bed in a safehouse nearby. The mattress was thin, the sheets smelled vaguely of dust and damp, but it was better than nothing. But sleeping while attached to Bucky Barnes was proving to be a nightmare.

“Stop moving,” you grumbled, trying to get comfortable without your arm getting yanked.

Bucky exhaled through his nose. “Kinda hard when you’re sprawled all over me, Doll.”

Your cheeks burned. “I’m not- ”

But you were.

There was no way around it- his arm was wrapped around you, keeping you pressed against his side. Every shift, every twitch of his muscles, sent a jolt of awareness through you. The heat of his body, the solid weight of him, the sheer size of him against you…

You tried to shift away, but the cuffs made it impossible. Every tiny movement just pressed you closer, your body molding against his like a puzzle piece that fit all too well. You could feel the way his chest rose and fell, steady, unbothered- while your own breath was coming far too fast for comfort.

“This is ridiculous,” you muttered, twisting slightly, only to freeze as Bucky's grip instinctively tightened around you.

“Doll,” his voice was low, rough with sleep, “if you keep wiggling like that, neither of us are getting any rest.”

Heat flared in your cheeks. “I’m not- ” But you were, again, shifting just enough to feel the tension coiled in his muscles, the slow flex of his vibranium fingers resting against your waist.

You swallowed hard, willing your body to ignore the way he felt against you. But it was impossible- the warmth, the solid weight, the steady, controlled power that had you feeling far too aware of every single breath he took. You could smell him, the faint traces of sweat and gunpowder mixed with something unmistakably Bucky.

You squeezed your eyes shut. “Just go to sleep.”

Silence stretched between you before Bucky let out a slow chuckle, the vibrations rolling through his chest, through you.

“Whatever you say, Doll.”

And somehow, despite everything, you did.

You blinked awake, mind still foggy. The sky outside the safehouse window had shifted to muted shades of gray, the first signs of dawn creeping in through the thin curtains. The air was thick with early morning stillness, broken only by the soft creaks of the old bed beneath you. As you stirred, trying to shift into a more comfortable position, something stopped you.

Something warm. Solid. Heavy. The unmistakable weight of an arm draped over you, pinning you in place. Not just any arm- his arm. The hard, unyielding pressure of metal wrapped around your waist, anchoring you to him even as he slept. The sensation was grounding and suffocating all at once, leaving you hyper-aware of every shift, every breath, every slow, unconscious squeeze of his vibranium fingers against your bare skin.

But it wasn’t just his arm. Sometime during the night, you had gotten tangled together, his leg slipped between yours, pressing up against your crotch in a way that made your breath stop. The pressure, subtle yet insistent, had you far too aware of how sensitive you felt, of the heat pooling low in your belly. The way your body responded, the way the tension in the air had shifted from mere discomfort to something else entirely.

You tried to move his hold was unyielding so you shifted back.

Only this time your butt was pressed firmly against something unmistakable.

Bucky was hard.

Heat rushed up your spine, your senses suddenly painfully aware of everything- the solid warmth of his chest flush against your back, the slow, deep rhythm of his breathing, and the way his hips had begun rocking against you, even in sleep.

You swallowed hard, torn between panic and something far more dangerous as another slow, instinctive roll of his hips sent a spark of heat straight to your core. You should move- you should wake him up- but then a quiet, needy sound slipped from his lips, muffled where his face had buried against the back of your neck.

His vibranium hand flexed, the cooler metal splaying over your stomach. Skin to metal. Your shirt had ridden up during the night, leaving you bare beneath his touch, and when his thumb brushed the soft skin just beneath your ribs, your entire body tensed. A shiver rolled through you, unbidden, and that’s when you felt it-

Your own arousal.

The ache that pulsed in time with the steady press of his body against yours. The sharp awareness of how easily, how seamlessly, your bodies fit together, the tension stretched so tight between you it felt like a live wire.

You needed to wake him up.

But trapped as you were, there was no room to press your thighs together- only to shift, just barely, along the firm muscle of his leg between yours. The motion sent a ripple of sensation through you, what had you done in the night that had gotten you as wet you were becoming. Shifting your hips again trying to do something to make it better- Bucky growled.

His nose brushed against the back of your neck, breath hot, lips so close to your skin. His hips pressed against you again, slower, deliberate, sending a shockwave through your already tense body. His grip on your stomach tightened, just enough for you to feel it, to need more.

Then came the sharp, teasing graze of teeth against your nape.

His voice was hoarse, rough with sleep and something else entirely when he muttered, “Stop moving, Doll. You’re making it worse.”

His breath fanned against your skin, sending another shudder through you, and suddenly you weren’t sure who was torturing who.

You stiffened, before trying to move away.

"I just- "

"Said stop moving." His grip tightened, pulling you back against him, his leg pushing up harder, and you swallowed the moan that nearly slipped past your lips.

"Been teasing me all damn night in your sleep."

"I didn’t do a thing.”

"Really?" His breath was hot against your ear, voice rough and edged with something dangerous. "'Cause I can smell it, you know..."

Your stomach flipped. "What?"

Bucky's fingers flexed against your bare skin, his tone dark with amusement. "You. Been leaving little wet patches on my leg with all your grinding…"

His words sent another wave of heat through you, your breath hitching as your body betrayed you yet again. Bucky hummed, his lips grazing your neck as his grip on your waist tightened. "Drove me crazy, y'know. All those little sleepy moans while you were riding my leg. Thought I was imagining it at first, but nah- " his teeth nipped at the delicate skin just below your ear, making you jolt, "- you were using me, weren’t you?"

"I wasn’t- "

"You're always such a brat in the field, you a brat in the bed, too, Doll?" His voice was smug, teasing, completely in control now. Your fingers clenched around the cuffed hand as he slowly dragged it down your stomach, his movements deliberate, testing. You tensed, instinctively trying to pull his hand back up, but the metal was unyielding. His fingers merely flexed beneath yours, a silent warning that he could take control if he wanted to.

"Don't get all shy on me now, sweetheart…" Bucky murmured, his lips tracing a slow, heated path down the side of your throat. "Not after all the trouble you've already caused."

Bucky's hand cupped you through your pants, his palm pressing against the damp fabric, making you gasp. A dark chuckle rumbled against your neck as he felt the heat radiating through the thin material.

"Undo your pants," he murmured, the command cutting through the thick haze of tension.

You found yourself shifting, your own shaking fingers undoing the button and pulling down the zipper, Bucky’s hand sliding in without hesitation. The sensation made you arch, your body betraying you as his fingers made contact. A little whimper slipped from your lips before you could stop it.

"All that grinding made you all ache and sensitive, Babydoll…" His metal finger barely pressed your underwear against your swollen clit, the faintest amount of pressure making your breath stutter.

Bucky hummed in satisfaction, his fingers starting a slow, teasing circle over the fabric still covering you. "Bet you've been dripping for me all night," he murmured, his lips tracing the shell of your ear. "So wet and needy, and you don’t even wanna admit it."

His hand slid further, fingers pushing past the final barrier of fabric to find you bare beneath, slick and ready. He groaned at the feel of you, his grip tightening as his fingers slipped through your wetness, coating themselves in evidence of your arousal. "Fuck, sweetheart… you're soaking."

A strangled sound caught in your throat as his fingers circled your clit, the cool contrast of metal making you shudder. You tried to resist the pleasure flooding through you, but Bucky was relentless, keeping you spread open with his thigh between yours.

"Bucky- "

"Shh, sweetheart. Just let me feel you," he whispered, voice thick with desire. His hand moved with intent now, slow and devastating strokes that had you trembling against him. "That’s it, good girl… just like that."

His fingers slid lower, teasing along your folds, gathering the slickness that betrayed just how much you wanted this. A wicked smirk ghosted across his lips as he pressed against your entrance, just barely dipping in before pulling back, his touch agonizingly light.

"So sensitive," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. "So fuckin’ wet for me."

You let out a strangled moan as his metal finger circled your clit again, more pressure this time, more purpose. Heat coiled low in your stomach, each slow stroke sending sparks of pleasure racing through your veins. Your hips moved before you could stop them, chasing the friction he so cruelly teased you with.

"That’s it, sweetheart," Bucky coaxed, voice laced with dark amusement. "Knew you wanted this. Knew you couldn’t resist."

You barely had time to bite back another moan before he flipped you onto your stomach, his grip firm as he pressed your cuffed hand down against the mattress. His free hand slid to your hip, tugging your pants lower, the cool air ghosting over your bare skin making you shiver.

The bed creaked as he moved behind you, the unmistakable sound of his belt being undone making your breath hitch. The rasp of his zipper sent anticipation curling through your spine, the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress keeping you exactly where he wanted you. His own pants coming down, the clank of his metal belt

"Been waiting for this all night," Bucky murmured, his hand smoothing over the curve of your ass before squeezing. You felt your hips raise back to meet his hand, instinctively seeking friction, rubbing against the heavy, hard length pressed against you.

He groaned at the contact, his breath coming out harsher as he gripped your waist, his flesh hand against your skin. "That’s it, sweetheart," he muttered, grinding his cock against you slow and deliberate. "You want it, don’t you?"

You barely had time to answer before his free hand slid between your thighs, fingers teasing along your already slick folds. "So fuckin' wet for me," he groaned, his touch purposeful as he spread your arousal with slow, torturous strokes. "Bet you were dreamin' about this, weren't you? Ridin' my leg, gettin' yourself all worked up..."

Your breath stuttered, a whimper slipping from your lips as he pushed a finger inside you properly, curling it just right, making your body jolt. The pleasure was overwhelming, too much and not enough all at once.

"Bucky- " you gasped, barely able to form the words as he worked you open, his touch both devastating and precise.

"Yeah?" His voice was low, teasing, his breath warm against your skin as he pressed another finger in, stretching you further, our cunt clenching and holding onto his fingers. "That feel good, sweetheart? You gonna admit how bad you wanted this?"

Your fingers curled into the sheets, a desperate moan slipping from your lips as he thrust his fingers deeper, stroking the spot that had you trembling.

"Fuck- Bucky, I- " you tried, but your words cut off into a whimper when his thumb circled your clit, sending another wave of pleasure through you.

"That’s it," he murmured, voice thick with satisfaction. "Let me hear you."

Bucky chuckled, dark and pleased, withdrawing his hand only to replace it with the heavy press of his cock against your entrance. "Gonna take my time with you, Doll," he murmured, voice thick with hunger. "Gonna stretch you open nice and slow... make sure you feel every inch."

And then, with a deep, steady push, he sank into you, stretching you inch by inch, until there was nothing left between you but heat, pressure, and the raw, unrelenting pleasure of being completely, utterly filled.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he groaned, the weight of him making it impossible to properly move. Your walls fluttering around him as you let out a soft whine.

Bucky’s fingers tightened against your hips, his breath ragged against the back of your neck. “That’s it, not so sassy now, are ya baby?” he murmured, voice thick with amusement. His thrusts deepened, each roll of his hips sending pleasure spiking through you. “Just needed my fat cock to make you behave.”

A choked moan escaped your lips, your body arching instinctively, pushing back against him. The stretch, the pressure- it was too much and not enough, and you couldn’t stop the desperate sounds spilling from your throat.

Bucky chuckled darkly. “Fuck, listen to you,” he groaned, his pace picking up, the slap of skin against skin echoing in the room. “Moanin’ like a needy little thing. Thought you hated being stuck with me?”

You couldn’t even answer, couldn’t form words between gasps and whimpers.

“C’mon, sweetheart, use your words,” he taunted, his flesh hand slipping beneath you, fingers finding your clit. “Tell me how good I feel stretching you out.”

Your breath hitched, your back arching as pleasure ripped through you. “Bucky- I- fuck- ”

He groaned, thrusting harder, deeper, hitting that spot that made you see stars. “That’s it, take it, baby,” he rasped. “You’re so fuckin’ tight- so fuckin’ perfect wrapped around me.”

Your body clenched, heat coiling in your belly, the pleasure unbearable as his fingers worked you mercilessly, pushing you closer to the edge.

““Gonna come for me?” Bucky growled, his grip on your waist tightening. “Gonna soak my cock like a good girl?”

Your breath hitched, your body tightening around him, the pressure building unbearably fast. His fingers on your clit never relented, pushing you closer and closer, his thrusts turning sharper, rougher, until it was too much-

The pleasure crashed over you in a blinding wave, your cry muffled into the pillow as your body convulsed beneath him. You clenched around him, squeezing him so tight he let out a strangled moan, his grip on your waist turning bruising.

“Fuck- just like that,” he groaned, his rhythm faltering, his body seizing as he drove into you one last time before he buried himself deep, spilling into you with a deep, shuddering groan. The heat of it sent aftershocks rippling through you, your body still pulsing with the remnants of your orgasm as he slumped over you, both of you panting, sweat-slicked, and utterly spent.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of your ragged breathing, the weight of him pressing you into the mattress. His breath fanned over the back of your neck, warm and uneven, his heart hammering against your spine. Neither of you spoke, your bodies still tangled, still connected, the cuffs a firm reminder that there was no pulling away just yet.

Bucky chuckled breathlessly, his lips ghosting over your shoulder as he murmured, “Guess being stuck together ain’t so bad after all, huh?”

His words sent a lazy shiver through you, but you were too boneless, too utterly wrecked to argue. Instead, you let your eyes drift shut, exhaling slowly, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back.

Yeah, you were definitely in trouble.

By the time backup arrived, you were fully dressed again, but nothing about the tension had faded. If anything, it had settled deeper. The flight home was quiet, and you were quiet too.

Bucky hadn’t let go of you the entire time. His fingers brushed your thigh every so often, casual, like it was nothing. Normally, you would have said something- told him to quit it, nudged him away- but right now, your brain was too hazy, too fluffy to form a real thought. The ache between your legs made every small movement an unspoken reminder of where he'd been, of what he'd done.

You kept your eyes on the window, forcing yourself to breathe, to act normal. But in the reflection, you saw it-

Bucky watching you.

That same small, satisfied smile on his face.

As the jet touched down, Bucky finally pulled at the cuffed connection, his vibranium arm giving a gentle but insistent tug. Your gaze snapped up, attention pulled from the window as your fingers instinctively curled into your lap.

"On your feet, Doll. Don't wanna keep Stark waiting."

"Yes, Sir." The words left your lips before you could even think about them, your breath hitching the moment you realized what you’d said.

Sir? When had that slipped into your vocabulary?

Bucky’s smirk deepened, though he didn’t comment, just gave a slow hum of amusement as he stood, the cuffed hand ensuring you followed right after. Blinking, heat creeping into your cheeks, you cleared your throat and got to your feet, falling into step slightly behind him as you made your way toward Stark’s lab.

Tony raised an eyebrow at the sight of you and Bucky, still cuffed together. "What the hell happened here?"

"Long story," Bucky muttered, avoiding your gaze, though his grip on the cuffed hand lingered a second too long before finally letting go.

Once the cuffs were finally removed, you should have felt relief. Should have been grateful to be free. But instead… you hesitated.

Bucky hesitated, too.

You both lingered, standing too close, the air between you charged with something unspoken. His fingers flexed at his side like he was fighting the urge to touch you again, his jaw tightening as his gaze flickered over you, lingering on the places he'd marked just hours ago. And for one, sharp moment, you thought he might- might say something, might pull you back in, might remind you exactly how good you felt under him.

But then, he just smirked. Slow, knowing, dangerous.

"Don’t think this means you’re off the hook, Doll."

Your breath caught. "I’m not?"

Bucky leaned in, his voice dipping into something husky. "Not even close."

His eyes held yours, heavy with meaning, and your stomach flipped, heat flooding your face and running down your chest. You swallowed hard, your pulse hammering as he finally stepped back-

But instead of leaving, he gave your cuffed hand a light tug, guiding you toward the hallway. "C'mon, sweetheart," he murmured, his smirk deepening. "Think it's time I take you somewhere a little more comfortable."

Your breath hitched, your body still too warm, too sensitive from everything that had happened. "Bucky- "

He shot you a look over his shoulder, teasing but firm. "Unless you wanna sleep alone tonight?"

A nervous giggle bubbled up before you could stop it, and you cleared your throat, shaking your head as he led you toward his bedroom.

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mariasont · 14 days ago

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Lipstick Smudges - A.H

sweetheart!reader isn't sure what's worse, being caught applying lipstick in his office, or the way he watches you as he wipes the smudge from your cheek. either way, you've lost this round

pairings: aaron hotchner x sweetheart!reader warnings: pre-relationship pining, power imbalance, suggestive ish content, accidental touches, dbf!hotch, implied age gap wc: 2.1k

He’s everywhere in this room, even when he’s not. Leather, paper, power, and that impossibly clean, expensive, sophisticated cologne that somehow feels too refined to be squandered on rash inhales. You take too much anyway, far too greedy, let it fill your lungs until there’s no room for anything else.

You shouldn’t loiter. Shouldn’t stand here like this is your space, like you have any claim beyond the slip of a paper waiting for his signature.

But your gaze snags on the framed diplomas, and it’s hard to look away.

Harvard law.

Georgetown.

It’s not that you forgot how much older he is. You didn’t. You couldn’t. It’s a number that has always been tucked into the recesses of your mind, harmless in theory. Just a fact, static and absolute. You could recite the exact statistic if asked.

But knowing isn’t the same as feeling it. Feeling it is standing in front of signed, sealed degrees, reading the dates and doing the math, realizing that while you were mastering basic addition, learning to carry the one, he was outmaneuvering seasoned prosecutors.

Maybe that should’ve been obvious. You’d heard the stories growing up, heard it in passing at dinner tables, in the offhanded way your father spoke about him, the one who always had his head buried in a casebook, the one who could dismantle an argument with nothing more than a well-placed pause.

He is untouchable incarnate, and you are standing here, staring at his old life like you have any right at all.

You need to stop.

This is just stress. Just a long week, a long day, a long minute spent in the wrong place at the wrong time, thinking the wrong things. That’s all this is. That’s what stress does, right? It makes your hands fidget and your heart race and your brain pick apart things that don’t need dissecting. It makes something out of nothing. And that’s what this is. Nothing.

You steal one last breath before your better judgment can catch up – one last inhale, ripping off a scab just to let it bleed.

But this time, you don’t let it slip away so easily. You hold it captive in your lungs, let it smolder, let it sear through you like punishment. And when you finally exhale, you force it out like an exorcism, as if you can purge him from your bloodstream.

He’s your boss. You’re a professional. Not some starry-eyed girl mistaking admiration for something hazardous.

You shift, weight rolling from foot to foot, as if your body is trying to find a version of stillness that fits. It doesn't. Something is agitated beneath your skin, an itch you can’t scratch.

The glass panel on the cabinet across from you catches your attention. Light bends strangely around your reflection. You don’t recognize yourself, at first. You look distant. Lips parted like you were about to speak and forgot what words were, brows pinched like you’re thinking something, except your mind is empty, a hollow shell where a thought should be.

Your mother's voice pushes through like a bad habit, a woman should never look unfinished.

A small sigh escapes, barely audible, as your fingers close around the tube in your pocket, rolling it absently between them. It’s not a perfect mirror – certainly not meant for this – but you angle your head anyway.

The cap clicks off, and with it, the scent rises, vanilla, waxy, something faintly synthetic. The first pass is light, feathering across your bottom lip, then another, building the color, deepening the shade. The way fruit darkens on the vine. The way bruises bloom. Your upper lip demands more care, a steady hand tracing the curves of your cupid’s bow, shaping pigment into symmetry.

You blur the edges with your pinky, press your lips together, then part them again.

Your mother would call this finishing.

You aren't sure what you would call it.

“Do you need something?”

Oh, hell.

Your heart misfires, a violent percussion that boomerangs up into your throat. Your fingers spasm, useless, the lipstick slipping past them, a graceless fumble, smacking the desk before rolling to the floor.

You scramble for it on instinct, but stop yourself halfway, suddenly hyper-aware of Hotch standing behind you.

You whip around so fast it’s a wonder you don’t send yourself sprawling.

“Oh – um, hi, sir.” It comes out shaky, bolstered only by a laugh so weak it could be hospice care. Your hands hover, indecisive, as if touching anything – papers, lipstick, oxygen – might somehow make this moment less humiliating. You opt for nothing. “Sorry, no – I mean – yes?” A grimace tightens your features before you can stop it, and then, because commitment is important, you force the word again. “Yes.”

You lift the papers between you like a white flag, the edges crumpled from where you crushed them in your palm. The ink smudges in places, a casualty of your grip, but it’s all you have to offer. A flimsy excuse.

“I just – I needed your signature.” Your voice does not inspire confidence.

His gaze dips, tracking your mouth, but the glance is pointed, like it wasn’t entirely unconscious. It’s there just long enough to leave an afterimage in your mind, stamped there for proof.

You don’t have the luxury of descending into your usual spiral of overanalysis because he’s stepped forward and swallowing the air between you, dissolving everything into white noise.

You stand impossibly still, like even the flutter of an eyelash might tip the balance of something unsure. And he, blissfully oblivious – or worse, fully aware and delighting into your sudden paralysis, simply drops down, reaching for the lipstick where it sits beside the leg of his desk.

You should step back, gods, should you ever. You ought to wiggle, shuffle awkwardly, or maybe just pretend you’ve spotted something fascinating on the ceiling tiles, anything other than standing here frozen, suspended in a glitchy buffering video type way as he crouches before you.

He’s so close you can count every near-invisible stitchwork on his cuff, see the way his suit catches the light in muted glints of charcoal and shadow. Close enough that one false move – just a tremble of your restless fingers or a breath taken too deeply – could collapse the gap between you, your knee brushing his shoulder, your calf dragging along his slacked thigh.

The moment he looks up is infinitely worse than you anticipate.

Your thoughts trip, tumble, faceplant into explicitly, never-before-seen territory, like it’s decided to speed-run the transition from oh, he’s your boss to oh, I wonder how his mouth would feel branding you with invisible kisses hot enough to blister.

You shouldn’t even entertain the fantasy of how minimal the effort would be. Shouldn’t consider how it would feel. How his breath could ripple across your skin, drifting upward – first thigh, then hip, then everywhere else.

You’re fairly sure you’ve stumbled into the single most dangerous thing you’ve ever experienced because your brain is recklessly inventing scenarios, running wild with possibilities you’d never dared allow past mental customs before this. Thoughts you’ve dutifully kept locked behind layers of decorum, rules, and years of well-behaved caution are suddenly crashing through the gates, loud and messy and painfully exciting.

None of these possibilities were remotely realistic – weren’t even conceivable, not until he waltzed into your carefully ordered life and promptly shattered your sense of self-preservation.

He doesn’t rise all at once, doesn’t offer the mercy of a quick retreat. Instead, he rises in increments, slowly, forces your eyes to shamelessly follow the gradual climb of his frame. The distance between you dwindles, so little space, but so vast because he still isn’t touching you. Who knew your own boss could weaponize space itself.

He dangles your lipstick between you. It’s extended just far enough to force your compliance – forcing your hand, quite literally. “I’m assuming this is yours?”

“Yeah, that’s mine. Definitely mine.” You nod too many times, like doubling down will make you sound less ridiculous and not, in fact, like a guilty party caught red-handed.

Your fingertips graze his, something that shouldn’t feel as noticeable as it does.

You fidget awkwardly, wishing you could physically move away from the glaringly obvious streak of lipstick you spot on his desk. The exact shade currently clutched between your fingers. The exact shade still warm on your lips.

“Oh,” you say quickly, voice thinner than you’d like. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to, you know… vandalize your office.”

Hotch follows your eyes, registers the mess, and barely gives it half a second of consideration before dismissing it entirely. “It’s fine.”

Then he looks at you again, sharper now.

“You, however, are not.” A slight pause. “It’s on your face, too.”

You blink at him, your brain still a half-step behind. “I mean… yeah? That’s kind of the whole point.”

In the most absurdly on-brand move imaginable, he pulls a neatly folded handkerchief from his pocket, because why wouldn’t he have one? You don’t even get the chance to react before he’s pressing the material to your cheek, thumb gliding lightly over the smudge.

“Oh. You mean like… on my face face?”

He doesn’t say anything, but his almost-smile – so understated and arrogantly smug – answers you perfectly. It’s worse than a laugh, a laugh might let you feel indignant, even justified, but his silent smirk leaves you with nothing but a raw, simmering embarrassment.

His touch stays light, impersonal – at least in theory. You should be grateful for his efficiency, for the fact that this is clearly nothing more than a practiced, thoughtless gesture. Your body rebels, refusing to interpret his touch as merely an exercise in routine.

Up close, you’re able to catch details you’ve never had the privilege of seeing before – the beauty mark under his left eye, the fine crease at the bridge of his nose, the way his lashes are dark at the base and fan out in soft, feathered arcs.

It would be so easy to kiss him. Exactly why your mind warns against the temptation. But thoughts like these have a stubborn way of sticking – once they arrive, they refuse to vanish without a trace. A single step forward, a subtle lift of your chin, just —

The cloth drags too close to your mouth.

You feel it first, him first, his thumb pressing through the fabric, catching at the corner of your bottom lip. You really shouldn’t be able to feel it, the rough pad of his finger, not with the barrier between you, but you do.

Your lips part instinctively and everything slows.

You were so careful putting this lipstick on. But now you wouldn’t mind if he wiped it away. You’d let him ruin it. Let him press too hard, let his thumb drag the color down your chin, let his tongue take what was left until there was nothing but him. Until the only thing staining your lips was the taste of him.

The moment stretches so tight it must snap, so he steps back.

“Your technique could use some work.”

And yet, he won’t look at it. Won’t meet your eyes either.

You huff out a small, awkward laugh, pressing your lips together in a vain attempt to not think about them. His lips. Your lips. “Well, I wasn’t exactly planning for an audience.”

“Generally speaking, applying lipstick in someone else’s office does tend to come with an audience.”

“Right. Good point. I’ll be sure to coordinate my poor decisions more efficiently next time.” You clear your throat, taking a step back. “I should – um – get back to work.”

Hotch glances at you, then to your hands. “Don’t you have something for me to sign?”

You glance at the documents still crumpled in your hands, then back at him, then back down. You could give them to him. The kind of thing a well-adjusted, serious, responsible adult would do.

That, however, would require standing here while he reads them. That would mean watching him purse his lips in concentration, maybe even bite his bottom lip, which for reasons that absolutely should not be examined, has become your Achilles’ heel.

And then you’d panic. And say something dumb. And ruin your life.

And then again, you could pay Reid twenty bucks to do it himself and never speak of it again. Twenty-five if he asks questions. Thirty if he tells you to unpack your weird workplace behavior. Fifty if he looks at you with those big, perceptive, judgmental eyes and mutters something about Freudian repression.

With a nonchalant hum that hopefully doesn’t sound too forced, you slip the papers behind your back. “Nope.”

Hotch lifts a brow. “No?”

“Nope.”

You’re out the door before he can say anything else. You don’t look back. You can’t. Not when you know he’s probably still standing there, still watching, still processing your terrible, terrible decision in real time.

And somewhere across the bullpen, Reid is about to make the easiest twenty bucks of his life.

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x fem reader #aaron hotchner fluff #hotch #aaron hotchner x sweetheart reader #aaron hotchner x sweetheart!reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 days ago

Text

Can't Have One Without the Other 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, marital troubles, body insecurity, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Summary: your marriage is on the rocks.

Note: I asked about husbands and all your hoes said Bucky (with a few Sy's in the middle). I wasn't intending on a whole series but I thnk it would be fun to have husband!Bucky turn a bit desperate.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Living alone is tough. You've always found that it's best to keep a routine. Not too strict, you have to make room for spontaneity. You can't let the days turn grey. Take them one at a time but don't count them.

You haven't been to the cafe in a while. It's been longer since you came alone. Still, the house was too constricting, your home office like a cell, You can get some work done over a cappuccino, maybe even get a bit of pep.

Lately, you've been exhausted and you shouldn't be. You're in bed so early that you're usually knocked out around eight or nine. You fall asleep in the glow of the television, watching some ridiculous syndicated drama. It's just enough to keep your frustration from fermenting.

Routine. Wake up, ready, eat, work, forget to stop for lunch, only walk away from the screen when your eyes are dry and you can't stop yawning, give up on the healthy home meal and order in. Sleep alone with your rings on the nightstand.

You taste the cappuccino and sigh. It's sweet but the delight it brings is bitter. That's the happiest you've been in weeks and it's because of a damn espresso.

You pick up your pen and go back to shading. There's nothing there. It used to be that your work made you smile. Art used to be your haven. Now it's the only thing keeping you from thinking too much.

"Oh, what are we working on?" The stranger asks as he nears your table. You retract your pen and reluctantly look up. "An artist in the wild."

Ugh. You should be flattered. It's obvious the man in his cycling gear is flirting. Or trying to.

"Just work. Need it done by three," you explain curtly, hoping he takes the hint.

"Oh, wow, you get paid for that?"

You hesitate, "um, sure."

"I don't mean--" He cringes, "anything by it. It's good. I just... most people would love to be paid for their passion."

Passion? What even is that? You look down at the panel and shrug. The series needs to be killed. It was well past sense long ago. Now the writer is only writing for the paycheck and you're not doing much different.

"I know you already have a drink but maybe I could treat you to something from the bakery. I love their scones," he suggests.

You have to swallow a scoff. The guy's nice. He's not doing anything wrong. It would be flattering if it was another time, another context. If he wasn't offering to add another layer to padding around your middle. The rolls you can't even call love handles because they only make you hate yourself.

"That's sweet but--"

"But she's married," a deeper voice undercuts.

You flinch. You glance up as Bucky approaches. He could probably hear the awkward interaction before he even entered. You're not concerned about that, but you are unnerved to see him there. To see your husband for the first time in a month without warning.

"Oh, uh," the guy rubs his neck and backs up, eyeing Bucky's metal arm. "Sorry, I--" The man chokes on his tongue and quickly flees, forgetting the bakery treats as he flits through the door. He fumbles outside to unlock his bike and you watch him with a frown.

"He was being friendly--"

Bucky drops into the seat across from you, "to my wife."

"I was about to tell him," you set the pen against the tablet so the magnet snags.

"Oh, about to show off your rings?" He nods to your hand. Naked. You left the bands by the bed.

"I forgot. Late night," you shrug. "You didn't tell me you were on your way back."

"I wanted to surprise you," he leans forward and puts his elbows on the table, clasping his hands together. "Looks like I got the surprise. You're not home. You're here, flirting with bike jockeys."

"I wasn't doing that," you shake your head.

The accusation is scalding. Does he not remember the girl who didn't realise he was flirting for a whole year? Not like he was ever very good at communicating.

"How was the mission?" You ask evenly. You hold back the resent, tamp down on the promises he made that he wouldn't be away that long again. It's not use hiding, he can hear your pulse, but you still do.

He sighs and reaches for your cappuccino. He takes a sip. His thoughts weave between his brows as he tastes it and gulps tightly. Another thorn in your side. He could eat the whole damn display's worth of scones and muffins and not gain an ounce. That small coffee will cling to you.

"Long. Bullshit," he answers. "Good to be back."

You nod. You can't speak. If you open your mouth, it will all tumble out. He won't apologise so why are you going to make it an issue?

"Well, I'm almost done here," you fold over the cover of your tablet. "If you wanna finish that," you point to the cup.

His cheek ticks. He squints. He leans in further and slides the cup back to you.

"'Welcome back, honey. So happy to see you,'" he snarls derisively, "'I love you, husband.'"

The last consonant is sharp. You wince. You shrink in your chair as you keep your hands on the tablet.

"You surprised me, Bucky. Really." You sniff, "I missed you."

He stares at you. That same look that convinced a young girl he was annoyed by her. That assured you he didn't care about those stupid lines you made on paper, the drawings of Victorian figures and fantastical maidens. The one that melted away drop by drop. The ice is back in his eyes. Or maybe this time, it's in yours.

"Miss you too, babe," he pushes himself back in the chair.

You grab your bag and slide the tablet inside. You rest it in your lap and grab the cup. You drain it as the flavour turns sour in your mouth. Bucky huffs and stands before you can.

"Come on," he says, "let's go find those rings."

You stand and hook the strap of the bag over your head. You send him a look, "really, I forgot."

"Seems like," he grabs your hand. "Forgot a lot."

He drags you to the door. You put your head down as you let him. The insinuation in his words strangles you. Is he really that obtuse or is this projection? You're not the one who forgot this marriage.

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #series #drabble #mcu #marvel #captain america #avengers #winter soldiers #can't have one without the other

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dinogoofymutated · 7 months ago

Note

You asked for some smut suggestions for Logan, and I got one:

So like…I mean…Logan might be on the short side, but he’s still big! I mean, like,,,those hands 🫣 It would be nice to see a fic to do with Logan and a little manhandling. but not like in a BDSM way, more like a “I am very strong, and here’s a little reminder” type way. Might seem kinda silly but I’d enjoy a fic like that lol.

NSFW!Wolverine/AFAB!Reader Ask and you shall receive!! I've spent like the last four days working on this and atp I can't looks at it anymore lol. I'm not super happy with how the beginning is written, but I still think it's alright enough to post lol. It's a lot more tell than show compared to most of my other fics, and I was halfway tempted to reformat it into headcannons, but I didn't feel like it. Anyway, hope you like the way I included the manhandling lol! Hope it turned out okay :) Also, might or might not be tall logan. I'll leave it up to yall to assume, I'm just short af so there's not a single person in marvel who wouldn't have to look down at me lmao.

Edit:FUCK I FORGOT THE READ MORE! TWs: MDNI!!!!!! Seriously, you will be blocked. Masterbation, lil bit of a scent kink. Sexual frustration. Manhandling. Jealous Logan. Creampie. Logan calls you "sunshine" and pretty and shit. I'll add more if I can think of any.

You had a problem. You’ve had a problem. And it really didn’t seem like it was getting any better. It didn’t help the fact that it was incredibly embarrassing, either.

You couldn’t get off. It’s not like you ever struggled with it before, but lately, it felt like you were fighting a losing battle. At first, you didn’t realize why. Maybe it was because you moved into the X-Mansion. Nerves because you’re living somewhere new, right? So you change it up a little. You got comfortable, had a glass of wine or two, and picked up a raunchy book. Yet every time you slipped your hand between your thighs… Running circles around your own clit, trying your best to finger yourself to your finish, you just could never quite hit that peak. It was safe to say you were beyond frustrated.

Lucky for you, most people didn’t notice. You try your best not to be too uptight or mean, but there are just some things that you can’t quite hide from certain people.

Logan’s noticed that something is up with you. You can tell he has, seeing the looks on his face, nose scrunched up in a way he’s catching into something that he just can't quite place. You’re assuming it’s your own pheromones, but hey, as long as he doesn’t realize what it is you’ll be fine, right?

Maybe not.

Eventually, you finally realized why you were having so much trouble getting off. All it took was one training session with Wolverine, and you knew immediately. You weren’t sparring or anything like that, hell, you knew before you even hit the danger room floor. Logan was in a bit of a mood today, although not as grumpy as he can be- and he’s trying to be patient with you. You can tell. But you’re having trouble focusing today- and you have been for a while. He can tell you’re not at 100% just by the way you hold yourself, and spends about 5 minutes watching as you struggle to reset the Danger room panel before he’s finally fed up with it.

“Jesus fuck. Here, let me do it.” Logan grabs you by the waist, pulling you to his chest with one arm as the other reaches around you to reset the panel. It’s not like you didn’t find him attractive before, but the close contact? The smell of his aftershave and the sound of his voice growling in your ear?

oh.

Oh.

You were having trouble getting off because you had a thing for Logan.

You’re practically stunned when he pulls away, standing there with a flushed face and something rather embarrassing pooling in your underwear for the first time in a while. You had to quickly excuse yourself before you ran the risk of him catching onto anything coming from you. He’s a little confused for a second, but you can hear the sound of his low chuckle as you scramble away.

First thing you do? Go to the store.

It's not a random errand. At least, not entirely. You had meant to go out with Storm to grocery shop later this afternoon, but you told her you could really use some time out of the house by yourself, which she completely understood. You had the list and everything, it was only a coincidence that you passed by the cologne section on your way to pick up some toothpaste. The sight made you stop for a minute, the gears grinding in your skull. You spent just a few minutes curiously sampling the bottles until you found one that smelled a bit familiar… Should you? No, that's a bit strange. But really, what was the harm, right? I mean, who would know?

So you bought it. You felt a bit embarrassed afterward, knowing what you bought it for, and ended up letting it sit in the drawer of your side table for a good while. Until another desperate attempt at fucking your own brains out, that is.

You were sweaty and uncomfortable in your bed, sleep shirt sticking to your skin as you struggled to pump your fingers in and out of your tight cunt. It’s been a while, and it shows. You couldn’t even get your favorite dildo to fit inside of you, only adding to your frustration. Touching your clit hardly helped much, leaving you as unsatisfied as ever. Eventually, you give up, lying there as you sigh to yourself. You turn over in your bed in a huff, halfway temped scream your lungs out into the pillow you bury your face in. Instead, you let out something that sounds more like a whisper than a yell, letting the air in your lungs deflate as you let your feelings out. You roll over onto your side when you’re done, halfway tempted to be done with it entirely and go back to bed when you catch sight of the nightstand drawer, slightly ajar. The amber bottle of liquid stares right at you.

You open the drawer some more, picking up the bottle and looking at it as you wonder if you’re actually going to do this. But you’re ridiculously horny, and tired, and you know you’re gonna have trouble falling asleep in the state you’re in- so you end up spraying the smallest amount on your pillow.

It’s…nice. The pillow is warm from where you had been laying on it, and despite how strong men’s cologne could be, this one isn’t quite so striking. At least, not in the amount that you used. You relax back into your bed, pressing your face into the pillow and laying there for a moment. You start thinking about Logan… His calloused hands running across your skin. How his lips and tongue would feel against your own, trailing down your body to your breast. Your hand trails down to your clit as you imagine it as his own. You imagine him behind you, pressing you to the bed as he growls into your ear. You think about what his happy trail would feel like against you. What his cock would look like, feel like, pressing into you. Your legs twitch and shake as you see stars underneath your eyelids, the scent of Logan hitting all the right parts in your head and going straight to your cunt.

Holy shit.

Your orgasm lasts what feels like forever. Your legs are still shaking as you whimper from oversensitivity and pull your hand away, panting as you try to catch your breath. You haven’t cum that hard since… ever. Maybe the cologne was worth it, after all.

You felt really good the morning after. You found yourself humming in the shower, more energized at breakfast and morning drills. No one had said anything, but you knew there were a few who were relieved to see you back to your usual self. If anything, the only person you noticed acting very differently around you was Logan. He was more tense than normal. He scowled a lot, spending less time in your presence. You’d strike up a conversation that would only last a few minutes before he would make an excuse and leave. It made you a little disappointed. But you knew him and knew he had good and bad days, so you brushed it off at first. But a week, two weeks- almost a month went by, and still no change. You felt scorned almost, silently rejected by the guy you had finally realized you were practically in love with, and to be honest, the only man who could get you off just by thinking about him- and boy, did you get off while thinking about him.

You’ve almost resigned yourself to the fact that Logan wasn’t interested when he corners you one morning. He’s leaning up against the wall of the hallway, waiting for you when you step out of your room. It makes you jump a little, closing your door quickly behind you, knowing damn well you hadn’t washed your sheets after fucking yourself to the moon and back last night and fully not wanting the smell to hit his nose. All Logan does is narrow his eyes. Shit.

“Who is he.” He asks you. The question completely derails your train of thought. And you furrow your brow, confused. What was that about?

“Who is he? Your guy?” He asks again, but it does little to clear up your confusion. You’re halfway wondering if he’s being serious at this point, stepping away from your door as you cross your arms.

“What?” You ask. Logan huffs when you respond to him, cocking his head at you in a way that's more sarcastic than curious. The way he’s looking at you is doing some things that you don’t think you’d like to admit, eyes narrow and scrutinizing as you struggle to keep eye contact with him.

“What do you mean? What guy?” You repeat back to him, starting to get a little frustrated. He snorts, rolling his eyes as his scowl lingers. He steps closer, looking down at you from less than a foot away with that angry stare.

“Don’t play stupid with me, sunshine. I can smell him on you.” You ignore the way the nickname makes you shiver a little bit, too busy shrinking into yourself when you process the extent of his words. Smell. He could smell someone on you. Something. Oh god, this was embarrassing.

“Oh! That- It’s not what you're thinking!” You say, face flushed red. You’re flustered beyond belief, doing your best to convince him to leave it be, and it’s not going so well for you.

“Sure it’s not.” Logan huffs. He starts to take steps forward, closing in on your personal space.

“It’s not. I can promise you that.” You’re anxiously fiddling with your fingers now, taking a step back for every step he takes. He looked predatory, unlike any time you’ve seen him before. You haven’t even seen him like this in the danger room, even less so on the battlefield.

“Just tell me who he is.” Logan is adamant about it, his scowl beginning to turn into a frown. Your back hits your door, kickstarting your heart in surprise. You hadn’t realized he had backed you up so far.

“I can’t!” You say, in the beginning stages of becoming absolutely exasperated, and already incredibly embarrassed.

“Why not!?” Logan Snaps, stopping just inches away from you. You cover your heated face, pressing your palms into your eyes until you see shapes, wanting nothing more than to curl up and die right then and there.

“Would you just leave it!” You shout, but Logan’s having none of it.

“No, I won't!” Logan grabs your wrists and moves them away from your face, holding them in front of your chest with a grip lighter than you might have thought. You groan in utter frustration and mortification, looking him dead in the eyes as your angry mouth starts speaking before your reasonable brain can fully catch up.

“Jesus Christ Logan! Do you expect me to just whip out the silicone and show you?!” Your eyes widen as soon as you say it, slamming your mouth shut as you finally catch up with yourself. Logan is staring at you in absolute shock, jaw almost slack at the confession.

“...What?” He asks, slowly. You wince, looking off to the side before deciding it's a bit too late to get the cat back into the bag.

“Its… Cologne. What you’re smelling. I use it to uh, help me…” You make a sort of gesture with your head, praying that you won’t actually have to spell it out for him. He’s still in shock as he looks at you, hands frozen with his fingers wrapped around your wrists. He clears his throat when he comes to, an unreadable expression on his face as he slowly steps forward again, close enough to press his forehead against your own as he presses you against your door.

“You’re that pent up, you need cologne to help you get off?” He asks, and you don’t know what to say, cat catching your tongue as he leans forward. The side of his face brushes against your cheek as he leans down a little, the action making your skin prickle. One of his hands releases a wrist to slide up and across the back of your neck, tilting your head to the side as he takes a big sniff of your skin. He’s practically nuzzling you, angling his head so that he can smell the scent on the back of your head where you rest against your pillow at night.

He’d noticed it before, at night when most of his anger had worn off, sometime after he started to pick up the scent on you. The undertones, the top notes. But now with you this close, he can tell that it wasn’t another man he was smelling. No. It was just you. Your scent being drowned out by the smell of something that he could finally tell smelled rather suspiciously like his very own aftershave.

“...Don’t tell me that you wanted it to smell like me.” He asks after a moment. You almost flinch at the sound of his deep rumble, turning your red face away from him. You swallow, feeling like you are absolutely burning up as you nod- right as Logan catches the unmistakable scent of arousal.

“Fuck”

You’re sure the sound was more animal than man as he cups your cheek rather aggressively, pressing his lips against your own in a rather desperate kiss. It takes you a second to return it, eyes wide as you process just what was happening. It didn't take long for you to melt into his desperate kisses though, every nip and brush of his teeth just like you imagined it would be. He presses his knee in between your thighs, finally releasing your other wrist to grab ahold of your hip instead. You accidentally let out a whine when he grinds your hips against him, your heart beating so fast you were sure it was going to explode. He curses again at the sound, both hands sliding around you to lift you against the door.

You practically squeak in surprise, the noise caught by Logan’s mouth on your own one more time before he trails down to your neck, nipping and sucking at your skin. You gasp as he presses against you, his hips beginning to grind against your own. You’re having a hard time thinking, biting your lip as you do your best to stifle your sounds.

“Logan-ah, can we… head inside, please?” He only grunts in response, shifting your weight as you both begin to fumble for the doorknob. He gets it before you do, hardly stumbling as the door behind you swings open. He’s kissing you again before the door is even closed, kicking it behind him. As preoccupied as you are, you at least have the common sense to reach over and try to lock the door before he carries you over to the bed.

He plops you down onto the mattress before he crawls over you, eyes half-lidded and just as lustful as your own. He pushes you down as you try to sit up. His breathing a little hard, pupils dilated to a size you had never seen.

“Now I know why you closed the door so fast,” Logan smirks, having picked up the lingering scent of your sex on the sheets right away. You open your mouth to reply, but he cuts you off. His tongue snakes into your mouth, and you find that you can’t really remember what you were going to say anyway. He kisses you again and again, distracting you as he reaches above your head. He pulls away when he has the pillow in hand, and you know just by the look on his face that he knows exactly what he is holding.

“Hate to break it to you, but this doesn’t exactly compare to the real thing.” He snarks. It makes you laugh, and for the first time in a while, you see a genuine smile spread across his face.

“Yeah.” You respond, taking the pillow from his hands and tossing it to a far-off corner. “I know.” You could revel in his smile for as long as he’d let you. Logan’s kisses start off sweeter this time, at least for a moment they did. They begin to become more and more rough as hands start to wander and clothes start to come off. His shirt is first to go, your hands running up and down the hair that spans his torso. Logan is quick to remove your shirt and bra in one go, one very small step away from cutting off your clothes entirely. He gives himself a minute to appreciate your breasts, pinching and teasing you by sliding a hand up the middle of your sternum, the back of his hand brushing the side of a tit as he watches you squirm underneath him, arching your back to push your chest out, practically begging him to finally touch you.

“Patience is a virtue, Sunshine.” Logan says, causing you to scoff. You glare at him a little and all it does is make him chuckle a bit.

“Don’t be mean.” You whine. He laughs a bit harder as he finally lowers himself to your chest. He keeps his eyes locked on your own as he brushes the blunt ends of his teeth across the soft skin, but he’s never been the most patient man. It doesn't take him long to give in to you, sucking on each breast individually, massaging the soft skin of the opposite as he does so.

“Careful.” He growls when your own hands begin to wander, touching him over the fabric of his jeans. He releases your nipple with a pop, bearing his teeth as he presses his face back into your neck. You don't pay much mind to that, rather enjoying the grunts and sounds he makes as you slowly stroke his covered hardness from base to tip. You can't imagine how restrained he must be feeling. You can’t help but smirk a little as your hands drift up and down, before oh So slowly unbuckling his belt. Logan is agitated, practically bucking his hips into your hands to get you to just get over with it.

“Patience is a virtue.” You quote, only earning a restraining hold on your hands once again.

“Fuck that.” Logan growls. He holds you by your wrists, pushing them above your head as he uses his free hand to remove his belt and frantically unbuckle his pants. You'd be complaining if it weren't for the view of his straining cock, slapping against his abdomen as he pulls his pants down.

You don't get to stare for too long before he flips you on your stomach like you weigh nothing. He lets your wrists go to pull down your shorts and underwear, a sticky string of your slick thinning as he pulls the items down.

“Fuck. You're this wet from just that?” Logan asks you, taking two fingers and sliding them through your lips from behind, spreading his fingers to let himself see the mess you've made of yourself already.

“...shut up.” You mumble, more focused on the feeling of those very same fingers sliding back and forth across your cunt, the tips just barely brushing against your clit every time. Logan chuckles, sliding one hand under your lower stomach to lift your hips with ease. Your hips buck as he slides a thick finger inside of you without warning, slowly sinking down to his knuckle with ease.

“Might not even need foreplay at this rate.” Logan rumbles behind you, eyes set squarely on the sight of your pretty pussy spread wide open for him. You can only moan in response as he pulls it back out again, plunging a second finger into you this time. Your hands clutch the sheets as Logan begins to finger fuck you to his content, curling those thick digits to hit that one spot juuust right. You try not to buck or squirm too bad, halfway wondering if this is all just some wet dream.

“Logan-” You call out for him through your moans. He only hums in reply, preoccupied at the moment.

“I- god- I need your cock, please.” You're not sure if it was the phrase or the begging, but it makes Logan groan. You feel embarrassingly empty as he pulls his fingers out. You hear the sound of him stroking his hard cock with your slick, groaning and humming to himself before he picks you up. He leans over you, adjusting to you your hands and knees as you finally feel that thick, thick cock grinding against you. You gasp at the way it feels, feeling Logan smirk against your back.

“Having second thoughts?” The tone of his voice is teasing, but you know there's more than that behind the words. You vehemently shake your head, grinding back against him a little as you protest. Logan swears under his breath, holding onto your hips to keep them still as he sits up.

Both of you groan each time the head of his cock catches on your clit, Logan thrusting through your lips again and again as he lubes himself with the wetness you provide for him. You gasp when his head catches on your slot, notching just right.

Logan pushes into you so slowly, and you feel like he's thicker than you ever imagined he would be. You're impatient, desperate. You push back onto him in an attempt to take him in more, but his hands on your hips stop you.

“Believe me sweetheart, you don't want that yet.” Logan tells you, straining himself with how tight you feel around him. He soothingly rubs his thumbs against your skin, pressing into you until you have him completely, balls deep inside you.

“Please, please. Logan, Please, I need you to move.” Your begging starts to sound like nonsense to your own ears, but it makes Logan gasp all the same, his cock twitching from where it's buried inside of you. You practically cry in relief when he finally begins to thrust Inside of you.

His hip smack against your ass with every thrust, the sound of the slap mixed with the sounds of your love and the headboard hitting the wall a lewd and filthy symphony. Even better than your own moans were Logan's himself. Each and every groan and growl above you gave you a whole new array of things to imagine while fucking yourself- if you ever had to do so again.

You whine and whimper with every strong thrust, Logan slow and forceful with every movement. It felt like he wanted your insides to memorize exactly how his cock feels inside of you, and you doubt you'd ever mind it. He filled you perfectly, hitting every sweet spot inside of you.

Your arms are shaking. Struggling to hold yourself up with each and every rock of the bed. You barely start to buckle when He catches hold of you, an arm snacking under your chest and pulling you towards him. His hand spans your collarbone as he holds your back against his chest, holding you up as he continues to fuck you like no one before. You're closing in on that sweet release when his hips stutter a moment. His teeth dig into your shoulder with a sharp bite, holding you there close to him without breaking the skin.

“Are… are you -ah- close?” You ask. Logan only responds with a short and simple - “Fuck!” - before he pulls out of you.

You don't have time to whine about the emptiness before he's flipping you around, kissing you again as he pushes your back to the bed rather aggressively. He's quick to sling your legs over his arms, folding you in half as he sides fully into you in a single thrust. He's hitting you so much deeper in this position, chest pressed against your own as his thrusts continue to stutter.

Logan kisses you again, a bit differently than the last ones have been. These kisses are tender, sweet. A stark difference between his needy, frantic thrusts. There's a line of spit between you two as he pulls away, half-lidded eyes meeting your own. You’re closing in on your peak, and you can tell he is too. The pleasure is too much for you to handle at once, and you can't help but squeeze your eyes shut.

“Look at me.” Logan grabs a hold of your chin, your eyes flying open as he thumbs at your lip and holds your head still. “Don't look away.” His hips stutter some more, the both of you groaning as you clench around him, desperately trying to keep your eyes open as you finally cum around his cock. The fluttering of your walls are more than enough to send Logan over the edge, his cum warming your insides in thick spurts. Logan buries his face into your neck, groaning as you ride out both of your orgasms.

The two of you lay there for a moment, trying to catch your breath. Logan lets go of your sore legs, massaging your thighs as he presses sweet, comforting kisses to your cheek and temple. His hands wander up and down your sides, doing his best to soothe your aches without you even having to ask. -not that he would ever admit to having a soft side. Who would believe you if you told them that The Wolverine was a cuddler after sex anyway?

“Why didn't you just tell me?” You ask after a long moment. Logan hums, his Face tucked into the crook of your neck.

“Tell you what?”

“That you were jealous.” Logan only snorts at that, playfully pinching your side.

“Jealous of what? Your cologne?” He returns. You slap him on the shoulder as he chuckles at you, unable to stop the playful smile on your face.

“You mean the cologne that you thought was a whole-ass guy?” Logan stops at that, instead choosing to cover your mouth with his palm as he tucks his head closer.

“You're a lot prettier when you're quiet. You know that?”

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periwinkla · 6 months ago

Text

nrmt comic: Across Time & Space

narumitsu / wrightworth | a few years post SOJ rated T // some suggestive wording

a (high-res pdf + textless pdf) bundle is up on my ko-fi! <- if you enjoyed and want to support me to make more <3 (the cover also has the textless version!)

note: dialogue in (brackets) is their thoughts!

Hope you enjoy!

Thank you for reading until the end!! <3

If you have any questions, well- I love to ramble. So please ask away. As a matter of fact, behind the scenes rambles -> here!

I have a google doc full of comic scripts for these two goofs. If this one here does well, I'd like to do the one post-AA3-5... where they make a few... confessions, to themselves and each other.

I started this comic around July... took me a long time between other things and I really had no clue how to make this in the first place. Drew and redrew panels, and wrote and rewrote the dialogue... This is my first real attempt at a comic like this, so I would appreciate any feedback you may have - let me know your thoughts!

PS. this is what is on ko-fi (textless + high-res):

#ace attorney #narumitsu #miles edgeworth #phoenix wright #wrightworth #gyakuten saiban #mitsurugi reiji #naruhodou ryuuichi #aa comic #narumitsu comic #periwinkla #comic

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emmetofthestars · 5 months ago

Text

and that wraps it up! thanks for voting! (wow i did not think id be making so many panels)

i actually feel unsure about doing another poll, as i dont have any more ideas (and drawing these took me more effort than i expected) but if you feel like throwing a suggestion for what the next poll should be about, please do :)

#pizza tower #pepperman #the noise #pizzahead #fake peppino #emmet arty #reiterating: really did not expect to spend that much time making this

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wellcollapse · 8 months ago

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buddie is canonically romantic. to Me.

eddie was introduced to buck slow-motion style. buck tried to battle his inner bisexual rage for an entire episode but couldn’t stay angry at eddie’s pretty face for longer than twenty minutes — my guy folded the minute eddie extended that first olive branch. buck wistfully watched eddie and the little boy he would come to love as a son through a glass-paneled window not knowing that he’d eventually belong on the other side of that glass door. buck provided the solution to eddie’s very first on-screen struggle and wormed his way into eddie’s heart and home all in the span of one episode. without eddie asking him for any of it. buck called eddie attractive at least three times in season two alone. and then an elf called them gay and buck skipped away after hearing it. eddie gave buck the most precious thing in his life to cheer him up. and buck lost him. but eddie came back to him anyway and then gave him the second most precious thing — something he couldn’t even give his own wife — his trust. they had a lover’s spat in a grocery store. buck was treated like a grieving widow when eddie was buried underground. eddie’s memories of buck and chris were enough to pull him back from death’s cold embrace. eddie nearly bit buck's head off at the train derailment because he couldn’t stand the idea of buck risking his own life for abby. when eddie was shot, he spent the moment he thought would be his very last reaching out for his best friend. buck saved him. of course he did. eddie was planning to stick it out with a woman he knew he could never love and would never love until buck reminded him that he deserved better. buck got pistol-whipped after nearly going off on someone who threatened their eddie's child. eddie left the 118 and buck made out with his replacement. buck was in the room. buck's girlfriend talked to the woman he cheated on her with and buck never once bothered to intervene because he was too busy spending time with eddie. buck helped eddie patch up the holes in his wall. buck spent an entire season looking for the right couch to rest on and then passed out within seconds on eddie's couch. the right couch. buck was struck by lightning and eddie's hands brought him back to life. eddie couldn't look at buck while he was in a coma because it reminded him a little too much of losing his wife. but he brought christopher in anyway. of course he did. they went on a date where eddie stared at buck like he wanted to consume him. a little part of eddie died in that cemetery. eddie asked buck to perform Official Coparenting Duties with his son. buck uttered eddie's name eleven times in the episode where he discovered his bisexuality. buck was left at the curb on his first date with a man and his first priority was still the fact that he lied to his best friend. both of them actively looked like they wanted to die at the idea of nothing changing between them. eddie suggested matching couple's costumes. they sang what i like about you. buck ripped off eddie's shirt. eddie poured beer in his mouth. buck was the one to pull eddie out of the world that he tried to imagine with kim. their final scene of the season was the two of them. alone. together.

...who the hell is that? you can have my back any day. there's nobody in this world i trust with my son more than you. are you hurt? three minutes and seventeen seconds. comes in handy when you have a bunch of holes in your walls. you don’t have to tell me how great eddie is, i’ve known that since the first day i worked with him. what you always do. talk to him. you know how much christopher misses you? how could you. you're not around. i forgive you. you didn't end up like you. you act like you're expendable, but you're wrong. you were missed. thank you. for not giving up. he got the help he needed and that started with you. two cut lines. you don't have to be anything for anybody. can't you both be good cops? no. isn't that what we all want in a partner? knowing that they have your back? he’ll love you like we all do. i love you, i love you, i love you.

buck and eddie’s story is already a romance. regardless of their current relationship status in canon, their story is already a love story. and i wouldn't have it any other way.

#hima's post made me think about one of the first things i noticed when watching — how despite the fact that they're not canon yet #so much of it is just. love. it's all love #buddie #rae.txt

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dandylovesturtles · 10 months ago

Note

Using a random number generator for the angst prompts: 20 Starved + 30 Dangerous Temperatures

... and Leo, of course.

OH GOD OK

uh so. I had an idea. and I decided to write it for this ask I got forever ago. And then, uh.

it really

really got out of hand.

This is a pretty dark fic (even for me) and at the current moment in time it is hurt/no comfort. I do intend to write a part 2, probably tomorrow, but as of the time I'm typing this author's note I've been writing for around 5+ hours straight and I need to take a break! So please, if you don't want to read all this without the comfort included, feel free to wait for the next part before reading! I'll link it and the end once it's posted.

Content warnings: Kidnapping, confinement, psychological torture, nonconsensual voyeurism (I guess this is the best way to put this; Leo isn't doing anything sexual but it's still violating), mild violence, HEAVY ANGST, Leo just having the shittiest time possible.

I HOPE?? YOU ENJOY??? hahahaha....

btw this is set between S2 and the movie (though tbh its canon compliance is... /waves hand)

-----

When Leo imagined himself getting captured by some kind of shady, quasi-governmental agency intent on imprisoning mutants, it was never anything like this.

When he let his mind go there, he always pictured that he would be strapped to a table. Maybe muzzled. That scientists would stand over him, scalpels and drills in hand, and start to take him apart. That they'd examine him piece by piece, and wouldn't give him any anesthesia while they did it.

But there is no table, no muzzle, no restraints at all. He's just in a room.

Well, a cell, technically - the steel door is locked, and there are no windows, no furniture but a bare cot in one corner and a lone toilet in another. But it doesn't really look like a cell. It looks like a room.

A very, very white room. White walls. White ceiling. White tiles (with white grout, even). The toilet is white, a roll of white toilet paper on the floor next to it. The only things that aren't white are the cot and the door and Leo himself.

They took his gear and his weapons, because of course they did. Since the door is steel, he already knows he's not breaking it down; he gives it a half-hearted slam anyway, just to say he tried. He should be able to just portal out, except he hasn't learned how to use his portals without his swords to channel his ninpo through, and there's nothing in here with him that he can use to make new ones.

So he's stuck. He's going to have to wait until someone opens that door for some reason. Or, of course, until his family swings by to pick him up. Though, if possible, he'd like to escape before that happens. The image in his mind, of sitting outside his cell and grinning at them as they arrive to rescue him, is too cool to pass up.

He's not sure how long it's been already. He knows that they knocked him out after ambushing him, and he doesn't know how long he was unconscious. The heavy molasses feel of his head and arms when he woke up suggests that he was drugged. It's wearing off now, though, which means he has a clear head to take in the all of nothing that's in the room with him.

He sits on the cot he woke up on and waits for something to happen.

There's no way for him to tell time, but he thinks it's an hour or so later when there's a sudden beep, and then the sound of a metal panel sliding up. It's a slot near the door that has just opened - inside the revealed alcove is a bottle of water.

He comes to it curiously, taking a long look around the bottle. The slot doesn't open straight through, and even if it did, it's not big enough for anything more than his arm or a foot to fit through. He thinks it must function like an airlock, or maybe they slid the bottle down from somewhere above - he feels around just in case, and finds that the slot is enclosed on all sides but his. Probably his airlock theory, then.

As soon as he removes the bottle, the panel slams shut again.

"You're really determined to keep me in here, huh?" he says to whatever hidden cameras are watching him. He carries the water bottle back to his cot, but doesn't open it, instead setting it down on the floor by the wall. The paranoid part of his brain, the one that doesn't miss a trick, is reminding him that drinking the water is probably a bad idea. Who knows what they might have put in it?

He sits on the cot for awhile longer. Still, nothing happens.

"I'm getting pretty bored in here," he says for the audience that must be somewhere. "Come on, you have a one of a kind turtle in here, and you don't even want to talk to me?"

Time passes, slow and quiet. Leo goes through periods where his anxiety spikes and he starts to wonder if he's been abandoned by whoever brought him here, before the boredom eventually numbs the anxiety back out. Another bottle of water is eventually delivered, and this one he keeps in his hands after retrieving it. It's completely unlabeled, not even a "Use by" date printed on the bottle itself, so it doesn't provide much mental stimulation. He spins the bottle to make little whirlpools inside, because it's something to do.

He's trying to make the fastest whirlpool he can when he hears a sudden click, different from the beep of the water bottle hole, and he looks up just in time to see a large section of the wall in front of him turn black, and then light up to show the room beyond his cell.

He jolts, setting the bottle aside. He knew they must be watching him, but somehow he didn't catch that part of the wall was a whole window.

His audience isn't very large - five people, unless there are others he can't see. Two wear lab coats, two wear fatigues... but the one who comes to stand directly in front of the window is wearing a black suit, with steel rimmed glasses. He leans forward, and speaks into a small microphone.

"Inmate 24365," says the suited man. "I am Agent Bishop, of the Earth Protection Force. My subordinates tell me that you can speak and understand the English language. Is this correct?"

"Qué?" Leo asks.

Bishop does not look amused. "Inmate 24365," he says, "you have two options. You can cooperate with me, answer my questions, and we will make your stay here more comfortable. Do not cooperate, and we will make your stay uncomfortable. Do you understand?"

Leo pretends to hem and haw over this. "How comfortable are we talkin'?"

"I'm sure you would like some dinner."

"You know, I'm not really hungry." He says it to be difficult, but it's actually true - the uncertainty of the situation has put his stomach in too many knots to want to eat anything. "Maybe if you offer me some comic books? Or a TV?

To Bishop's credit, his face doesn't so much as twitch. He keeps his steely eyes locked on Leo. "Answer our questions, and you will receive food. Do you understand?"

Leo stays noncommittal. "What are the questions?"

He's expecting Bishop to ask about his family. He's not expecting what comes next.

"How many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave?" he asks. "How are these gateways accessed? What kind of defensive capabilities do the yokai have?"

Leo keeps the surprise off his face. Bishop thinks he's a yokai.

This is, overall, a good development. Bishop might not know about Leo's family, then, or at least not know that they live on the surface. This means the Earth Protection Force likely isn't pursuing his brothers, which means they will be safe until they can help Leo get out of here.

He doesn't let the relief show through, either. Bishop doesn't know anything, and now Leo just has to ride out the next few hours until the calvary arrives.

"You know," he says, "I think I'm good with my current levels of comfort."

If Bishop is mad or frustrated or dismayed by this choice, he doesn't show it. His expression stays stony as he stares in at Leo, sizing him up.

"Very well," he says after a few more seconds. "I will see you tomorrow, then."

The window goes dark, and then turns stark white to match the walls. Leo wants to go over and tap at it, see if it feels different when he touches it, but knowing that Bishop is surely still there, watching him, keeps him rooted to the cot.

He goes back to making whirlpools with the bottle. If they aren't going to entertain him, he isn't going to entertain them, either.

-----

Another water bottle comes some time after his talk with Bishop. He finally opens this one and takes a cautious sip. Nothing tastes off or strange, so he drinks more. They don't want to feed him, but they're fine keeping him hydrated. No reason to stay thirsty, then.

He wishes the water calmed the anxiety still roiling in his stomach, but if anything it just makes him feel even more energized. He bounces his foot and surveys his room again, looking for any weak spots or access points. He can't see anything, though, other than the areas where he knows the water bottle hole and window are; even the vents that relentlessly blow cold air into the room are well hidden.

Knowing that there are people standing just outside his cell watching him, like some kind of zoo animal, puts him on edge. The window is so big that he's pretty sure the only blind spots are either directly underneath it or right by the door on the same wall. After debating it, he leaves his cot and sits on the floor underneath the window, surveying the room from a different angle now and still coming up empty. At least they're going to have a harder time staring at him.

His eyes catch on the toilet in the corner, directly across from the window. It's not in the blind spot, and realizing this makes his insides lurch uncomfortably - hopefully he has a chance to bust out before using it becomes necessary.

Though, he's not sure when that chance is going to come. If they have a slot to pass him water, they could use that to pass him food, too, so it's unlikely that anyone is going to open the door unless they need to take him out.

So maybe his fantasy of being outside when his brothers arrive isn't going to happen. Well, that's okay; he'll just be sure to make some other part of their escape totally rad. That will make up for the embarrassment of getting kidnapped a block from Run of the Mill.

(Seriously, some kind of ninja he is, to let a bunch of human soldiers sneak up on him.)

He drains the water bottle, then starts to roll it back and forth across the floor, like a cat batting at a toy. Leo's not sure what's worse right now: the worry or the boredom. There's nothing to look at and no one to talk to, just an empty room with him and his water bottles.

He's too keyed up to sleep, and the fluorescent lights are still on, anyway. He has no way of telling what time it is, so maybe it just isn't that late yet. And even sitting here, in the blind spot, the idea of closing his eyes while people are watching makes unease crawl up his spine. Staying awake is the easy choice. He'll sleep after he's out of here.

So he sits under the window and rolls his bottle back and forth, back and forth, with only the sound of plastic on tile to keep his thoughts company.

-----

The first three water bottles came pretty regularly, but now there is a very long stretch where nothing is delivered. Leo is starting to think maybe it really is night now. They don't turn off the lights in his cell, though, and he has no controls to do it himself. At least it helps with the whole "staying awake" thing.

Just in case they've decided to suspend his water privileges along with the food, he holds off drinking any more for now.

Speaking of food, his appetite has finally decided to return. His stomach starts to growl at him after several hours (he thinks) of sitting in the floor, an annoying emptiness in his stomach. Knowing there's no food accessible just makes the hunger sharper, but he puts it out of his mind the best he can with nothing else to focus on. He can eat once he's free.

Which should be soon. Seriously, his brothers have to be on their way by now, right?

He's pretty sure it's been the better part of a day, if not a whole day, since he was kidnapped. And, okay, he's willing to give them some leeway; it's understandable if they got a late start. He did storm out of the lair after his latest fight with Raph, and no one ever came to check on him when he did that. Understandably, he thinks, because who wants to be around Bad Mood Leo? Not even Leo wants to be around Bad Mood Leo!

But he'd already turned back into Good Mood Leo by the time he left Hueso's, so surely they knew it had been more than enough time. They would have noticed when he didn't come home. They would have realized something happened. They would be looking for him.

And if they're looking for him, they'll find him! Obviously.

His stomach growls again, and Leo leans his head back against the wall behind him. Maybe he shouldn't think of being at Hueso's. Now he just wants pizza. Pepperoni and mushroom, maybe, or Hawaiian. Mix it up a little with the barbeque chicken.

Another growl. He groans out loud.

He stays awake, twisting and crinkling the empty bottle in his hands, until another full one finally arrives.

-----

No chance to escape comes before using the toilet is necessary.

He tried to hold out, he really did, but he ended up drinking more water to stave off the growing hunger, and it's lowkey cold in here, which doesn't help. Still, the issue of the window sends an uneasy shiver up his spine, doubting that any people outside will feel the need to turn away and give him some privacy. Maybe he should have gone while he suspected it was nighttime.

(Maybe he shouldn't assume they ever aren't watching him.)

He stands up and walks over to the cot, giving it a light nudge with his foot. In a stroke of luck, it isn't bolted to the floor, and it's light enough that he can lift it. The black mesh it's made of is tightly woven, enough that not much is visible through it. It will have to do.

He picks it up and drags it over in front of the toilet, propping it up on its legs so it makes a small wall between himself and the window. It's hardly ideal, but the semblance of privacy makes him relax somewhat.

(He can't think about how there are surely cameras in the room watching him from all angles, making his attempt at a barrier moot. He knows better than anyone that sometimes pleasant lies are necessary.)

After he does his business, he leaves the cot propped where it is; it's not like he's sleeping on it. There's no sink for him to wash his hands, but he's never been the strictest about it, anyway (much to Donnie's disgust). He returns to his spot under the window, squeezing the water bottle to the rhythm of the first song that comes to mind.

Only two verses and a bridge later, the window above his head turns black, then goes clear. Thinking that Bishop might have been watching him just now makes a cold, slimy feeling roll down his spine. Creepy!

"Inmate 24365," comes Bishop's voice through the unseen speaker. "Stand."

Leo doesn't. He stays right where he is, under the window.

Bishop waits only a few seconds. Then Leo hears him say, "Temperature down two degrees."

He gets up at that, turning and leaning his arm against the window. It strangely doesn't feel like glass, even though it must be. "It's already cold enough in here," he says. He wonders how they can hear him, when he doesn't see a microphone on his side.

"You were told your conditions would only be made comfortable after you answer our questions," Bishop informs him. "The same as before: how many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave? How are these gateways-"

"How about you answer my questions first," Leo interjects. "You keep calling me "inmate," but I haven't been charged with anything. Pretty sure you can't detain me without cause."

"The EPF is authorized to detain non-human inmates for as long as deemed necessary for the security of the United States," says Bishop smoothly. "Probable cause doctrine does not apply in this case."

"That's gotta be unconstitutional."

"The constitution does not recognize the rights of yokai. You have no right to counsel, no right to a speedy trial, and no right to protections from cruel and unusual punishments." Bishop's stare is colder than the temperature in the room. "But I am not an unfair man. Answer my questions, and I will provide you with food and clothing."

Leo tosses a glance over his shoulder. "How about a private bathroom?"

Bishop's expression stays ever in place, unimpressed and stoic. "Food and clothing," he repeats.

Leo gives his head a shake. "Then nope," he says, popping the "p". "I plead the fifth."

"As I have already explained, the Bill of Rights does not apply to you."

"That's such crap." Leo bangs his fist on the window. "You can't just keep me here forever for no reason!"

"I do have reasons." Bishop leans closer to the window, his eyes narrowing. "Let's try a different question. What is your relation to Baron Draxum?"

The surprise is fast and sharp, but Leo just manages to keep it from showing on his face. "Who?" he asks innocently, even as the panic sets into his chest. If they know about Draxum, what else do they know?

"We know you are acquainted with him," says Bishop. "What is the nature of your relationship?"

Leo knows they aren't bluffing - why would they bring up that very specific name otherwise? There's no lie he can tell that won't reveal something.

So he doesn't say anything. Instead, he turns his back to the window and sits down, staring resolutely at the opposite wall.

Bishop clicks his tongue. "Very well," he says. "I am a patient man. I can wait." Then, more muffled, like he's facing away from the microphone, Leo hears him say, "Temperature down two degrees."

The window goes dark, then turns back to white. Leo doesn't move for a long time.

-----

The third water bottle arrives, so he guesses that's the end of day two.

He's shaking as he gets up to retrieve it, adding it to his growing water bottle hoard. He's gone through three and a half by now, but he's trying not to drink them too fast.

As promised, no food is delivered, and his stomach growls and rumbles in protest. The water helps, but only slightly. He needs to eat.

He also needs to sleep.

The panicked adrenaline spikes that have kept him awake this long are starting to die down, with more and more long stretches of exhaustion between them. The shaking is near constant, bringing with it the weird jittery feeling he gets when his insomnia gets particularly bad.

The window is still unnerving him. The idea of sleeping while they're watching him feels staggeringly unsafe.

But he doesn't think he can hold out now until his family gets here. Sure, they're probably getting close (they have to be getting close), but they're sure taking their sweet time. And he's just so tired.

After a long internal debate, he lays down on the cold tile floor. It's not at all comfortable, but somehow he doubts the cot would be any better. Besides, even if he moves the cot under the window, he thinks it would be easier to see him if he uses it. So on the floor it is.

He presses as close to the wall as he can, curling up into a ball for warmth. He wishes he had a blanket.

He wishes he was home.

He squeezes his eyes shut tight and forces back the sudden wave of overwhelming homesickness. There's no reason to feel this way. It's only been two days! What is he, a baby?

It's fine. It's all fine. They're definitely on his trail now. Raph is leading the team. Donnie is using some kind of invention to blah blah blah nerd stuff. Mikey is razzing his tazz. April is using her investigative journalism skills to find clues.

They're on their way. He just has to hold out a little longer. He can do this.

He sleeps, and in his dreams, something grabs him tight and drags him down and down and down where he can't escape.

-----

The same routine plays out over the next two days.

Leo gets two water bottles delivered, spaced, if he had to guess, about five hours apart. Bishop comes to visit him some time after the second bottle. Leo refuses to answer his questions. Bishop turns the temperature down and then leaves. A few hours later his last water bottle comes. Then nothing for the whole night.

They still don't turn off his lights, but exhaustion is starting to win over the brightness.

More than a few times, Leo tries to summon a portal on his own, without his swords. If his family is going to take their sweet time in coming, he might as well try to help them out. He tries to summon his ninpo (without glowing), tries to feel the tug inside of him that he always does when he teleports, tries to envision the place he wants to go and tunnel through space to get there.

Nothing. Always nothing.

(Donnie can make his constructs independent of his bo staff. Raph can send his projections away from his sai. Mikey's learning to use mystic powers without his nunchucks. So why does Leo need his katana? Why is he the only one this useless?)

It probably doesn't help that he's so damn hungry. It's a constant companion now, a low and hollow ache that chooses inconvenient times to turn into white hot stabs of urgency, into seizing cramps that steal his breath. The water only helps so much - it keeps him alive but doesn't satisfy, doesn't soothe. In some ways it just makes the feeling worse.

And he's always shaking, too, but he doesn't know if that's the hunger or the cold.

Maybe the cold wouldn't bother him so much if it were at least still. But the vents blow fresh air inside relentlessly, and no matter where he goes he can't seem to get out of the direct stream. The cold wind batters his tired body, and there's places his skin is starting to turn dry and flaky. His nose won't stop running, and he's allowed himself a small section of his one roll of toilet paper to blow it, already stiff and congealed and disgusting.

It's miserable.

And there's still nothing to do.

He stacks a pyramid out of his empty water bottles, knocks it down, then stacks it up again. He tries to come up with some new and exciting ways to demolish it, but it's only new and exciting for so long.

He spends a few hours of day three singing karaoke as obnoxiously as possible. He hopes everyone outside enjoys the performance.

He recounts every issue of Jupiter Jim he knows to himself, then the plot of every movie. Then he goes through Lou Jitsu films, then anything else he can think of. That eats up a good chunk of day four.

By the time he gets his first water bottle of day five, he's out of ideas to entertain himself. He's never been good at this. He doesn't know how introverts like Donnie can go multiple days without talking to someone.

But when Bishop comes back with his daily offer of conversation, Leo once again impolitely declines.

-----

Something new happens on night five.

It's been a long time since the last water bottle. Leo has been trying to sleep, but it's not coming easy; he's exhausted, but the floor is so cold and he's so sore from staying on it night after night. Not to mention, his nightmares have been getting worse, and he isn't eager to return to them.

Add on the hunger, and sleep is elusive.

Suddenly, there's the telltale shadow of the window above him turning dark - this time, though, it doesn't light up as much as normal. Confused and curious, Leo sits up and takes a peek.

The room beyond is dim, only the glow of a green EXIT sign and a small desk lamp lighting the space. But it's enough for Leo to see a man standing there, looking inside. It's not Bishop - in fact, he doesn't recognize this person at all. They're wearing fatigues, but it's not anyone he's seen in the room during Bishop's normal interrogations.

The man catches sight of Leo, and the grinning leer on his face makes Leo regret looking.

He beckons for Leo to stand up. Warily, Leo does, unable to help but keep his arms folded tight over his chest. Not for the first time, he wishes he had some clothes - his gear, at the very least. Anything to not feel quite so exposed.

The man reaches down and picks something up, holding it aloft for Leo's inspection. "Want a sandwich?" he asks into the microphone.

The sandwich looks like white bread and bologna. No cheese, no other toppings that Leo can spot. Maybe some mustard, if anything. Overall, the most boring possible sandwich he could have been offered.

Leo's mouth is watering.

He has to swallow hard before answering. He doesn't trust this. Even if his stomach is slamming up and down at the promise of food, food, food.

"I'm not hungry," he lies.

The man laughs. It's not a kind sound. "Sure you ain't," he says. "You spend every night curled up on the floor like the dumb animal you are. Can you even eat this?" He waves the sandwich for emphasis.

Leo doesn't answer. He takes a step back from the window, like that will put any kind of distance between them. Like that will save him.

The man watches him with a sleezy grin. He waves the sandwich again.

"You want this," he says.

Leo shakes his head.

"You really sure?"

Leo shudders. Stands tall. Nods.

The man watches him for a long, long moment. Leo fights the urge to hide.

Finally, with a shrug, the man says, "Suit yourself."

Then he starts eating the sandwich. Right where Leo can watch.

Leo's stomach growls, loud and angry in his ears, and he has to physically hold himself back from crumpling.

After several bites, the man suddenly reaches out and taps the window, indicating the cot stood up in front of the toilet.

"That," he says, giving another tap for emphasis, "doesn't do shit."

Leo wants to crawl out of his own skin.

The need to hide is suddenly too great. He rushes to the cot, grabbing it and dragging it back to the blind spot under the window. He sets it down on all four legs, so it's as close to the floor as possible.

Then he lies down on his belly and wriggles underneath. It's a tight squeeze, and the cot ends up pushed up by his shell, suspended in the air, but he doesn't care.

He curls up in his pleasant lie of privacy and bites his hand to keep from screaming himself hoarse.

After an eternity, the window above him turns white again. It doesn't matter. Leo knows he's still there. Still watching.

-----

"You look tired," Bishop greets him. Leo answers with a dead-eyed stare.

"I keep telling you, if you want your conditions to improve, all you have to do is answer my questions."

Leo says nothing. He just stares, arms wrapped tight around himself to try and keep his body heat in.

"How many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave? How are these gateways accessed?"

For a moment, Leo considers just... telling him.

His family doesn't live in the Hidden City. The yokai have never exactly greeted them with open arms. What does he care if these military guys go after them? At least then, maybe he can finally eat something.

That's not what a hero does, Leo! echoes Mind Raph disapprovingly. Innocent people will get hurt!

Right. He's a hero. And heroes don't give into the demands of shitty guys like Bishop.

Leo swallows hard. "No comment."

Bishop's face changes ever so slightly: his brow creases. Leo wonders if that's good or bad for him.

"You understand that Baron Draxum is a known threat, don't you?" he asks. "We are aware of his plans to commit mass murder on the human population. We also know that he has been dormant for some time, and we need information on what he is planning."

Leo thinks of Barry's ambitions to be recognized as the best lunchperson in all of America and can't help but laugh. It comes out cracked and wheezing.

Bishop's furrow gets deeper. "Do you think this is funny?"

"Little bit," says Leo.

Bishop has a chasm to rival Raph's now. Leo knows he shouldn't, but he grins. It's his one moment of triumph - only he can be this aggravating.

And then Bishop says, "Temperature down seven degrees," and that wipes the smile right off Leo's face.

-----

The plastic of the water bottles is soft and pliable and feels weirdly good under Leo's teeth.

He chews the top of the bottle, gnawing at it until it's completely flattened out, pockmarked with little tiny indents from his incisors. It's not eating - it won't fill his belly or ease the persistent hunger pains. But something about the motion is soothing. The place-bo effect.

Pla-ce-bo, corrects Donnie's voice in his mind, sounding testy.

Where are you? Leo thinks back.

There's no answer.

He's gnawed his way through four water bottles. There's eighteen in total now, two and a half still full of water. He thought about using one to wash up a bit, but decided against it in the end. He knows he stinks, but the last thing he wants right now is to be wet. Not when he's starting to see his breath.

Oh well. It's not like he has anywhere to be.

He turns his attentions to the lids next. These are harder and thus tougher to chew. Still, if Leo uses his molars, he can eventually crack the lip, and then bend the plastic in and in, chewing until he ends up with a flat disc.

It's just small enough that Leo could swallow it, if he wanted to.

He thinks he remembers watching some kind of wildlife documentary. Or maybe he didn't watch it himself, but Mikey told him about it. Or maybe April? He doesn't know. His thoughts swim in and out and get lost on the way.

Point is. Sea turtles in the wild die all the time because of plastic in the water. They cut open their stomachs and find trash inside.

Well, Leo is a turtle in captivity. Maybe that means he's immune. Maybe he could swallow this plastic lid, and then he'd finally feel full and the pain pain pain of his empty stomach would go away.

He does not swallow the plastic lid. But it's more tempting than he'd like to admit.

It's going to be okay. When his family gets him out of here, they'll have a big pizza to celebrate. Maybe he can even talk them into letting him have the last slice.

It has to be any moment now, right? It's been a week. They have to be closing in. Any moment now, the door will open, and there they'll be to take him home.

The air conditioning blows relentlessly against his skin. He sneezes, then rubs the snot on his arm. He's given up on the tissue paper.

It'll be over soon. It has to be. Just hang in there, Leon, just a little longer.

He picks up another bottle and starts chewing.

-----

He's playing a mindless little game with his flattened bottle lids the next time Bishop comes.

"I'm surprised you still have any energy at all," says Bishop, and Leo wants to punch him.

(Really, he wants to do more than that. But those kinds of thoughts always make him feel weird and bad, so he pushes them away.)

"You should have learned by now," he says, pushing to his feet and trying not to show how badly he's trembling, "you can't keep me down."

"This is all unnecessary," says Bishop. "I'll feed you as soon as you answer my questions."

Leo barks out a laugh. "Sure you will."

"I will," says Bishop. He turns and says over his shoulder, "Bring it here."

One of the men in fatigues steps forward and hands a tray with a covered plate over to Bishop. Bishop uncovers the tray and holds it where Leo can see.

Baked chicken, broccoli with cheese, mashed potatoes.

Leo's stomach twists and cramps so painfully he has to bend at the hips and clutch his midriff.

"This is yours, as soon as you answer my questions."

Leo pointedly keeps from looking at the food. He shakes his head. He can't. He can't.

"Such persistence." Bishop's voice is scolding now. "You understand that you are a known accomplice to a terrorist, don't you? But if you become a cooperating witness, you will be granted some leniency."

Leo barks a laugh, lifting his eyes to look at Bishop's face, and pointedly not the food. "What's the point?" he asks. "If I'm not... protected by the constitution, or whatever. Are you going to let me go?"

"No," says Bishop. "But as I have told you, your conditions will become more comfortable." He waves the tray of food.

Leo stares at him, before a manic smile splits his face.

"You... stupid bastard. I can't even answer your questions." He slams a shaking hand against his plastron. "I'm not even a yokai! Do you get that? I'm not a yokai!"

Bishop looks skeptical. "Obviously you are."

"I'm not!" Leo rages. "I'm a mutant! I'm from New York! I don't even live in the Hidden City!"

Bishop's eyes flash. "I see," he says, "so you do know of it."

Leo falters, his body going slack.

What an obvious, stupid mistake.

(Some face-man he is.)

It takes Leo a long moment to answer. Bishop stays right where he is, holding the food so tantalizingly close and yet still out of reach.

"...I don't know about the gateways," he says finally. "I don't know about their defensive capabilities. I don't know what Baron Draxum is planning."

"Your lies are obvious," says Bishop. "You really don't want this? It's your last chance today."

Leo stares at the food. His mouth is watering so hard it might start to drip. Would it really be so bad to answer? They don't live in the Hidden City. And Draxum dropped him off a roof.

Draxum is trying to change, says Mind Raph. You see what these guys are like. You can't turn the yokai over to them. They'll hurt them!

What about me? he asks. Is it okay if I get hurt?

You're a hero, Leo, says Mind Raph. You can deal with it for a little longer. It's just a room. Just a little cold. Just some hunger.

He's a hero. He can deal with it. He can. He can.

He'll make them proud. Show them they can trust him.

It takes everything he has, but he shakes his head.

Bishop tuts. Then he throws the entire plate in the trash.

"Tomorrow, then," he says. Then the window is gone.

Leo collapses on his cot and tries not to cry.

-----

After his third water bottle on day eight, one of the fluorescent lights over his head flickers and then dies out.

It's not surprising, since they keep them running twenty-four seven. The blessedly dimmed lighting is actually nice, for once. Leo thinks maybe he could get some sleep, if the gnawing hunger and the constant shivers don't keep him awake.

He's just closed his eyes and snuggled up under his cot when it occurs to him: they may come in to fix it. If keeping the lights on day and night is part of their plan to torture him, to keep him exhausted and anxious and on edge, then they have to.

Which means his chance is finally here.

He has to be careful about this. He has to be ready to move, but he can't let them know he's ready to move. He has to let them think he's too weak, too exhausted, to make an escape attempt.

(He can't let himself think that, though. He can't give up before he tries.)

So he stays under his cot, but subtly shifts it so it won't restrict his movement. He has to be ready to burst out as soon as he gets a chance. Get past whoever comes in, then get out the door. It's after the last water bottle, so it's nighttime. There will be fewer people. He can do this. He can do this.

Find his swords. Make a portal. Get out.

Just as he was thinking, after a long time has passed, there is a loud warning beep, different from the water bottle beep. An automated voice says from somewhere unseen, "Inmates clear the door. Security personnel entering. Stay still and you will not be harmed."

Then the door slides open, and someone comes in.

It's a man wearing fatigues. Leo thinks this is the one who "offered" him a sandwich the other day. He's holding some kind of gun with a long barrel. He does a sweep of the room with his eyes, coming to rest on Leo under his cot. He gives Leo the same leering grin, and waves the barrel of the gun in his direction.

"Now you behave, and we'll get along just fine," he says.

He steps to the side, and another man enters, this one wearing the kind of jumpsuit Leo sees janitors in on TV. He's carrying a stepladder in one hand and a long tube in the other. Is that what fluorescent lights look like? Leo didn't know.

The man walks to the middle of the room and sets up his stepladder. Then he walks up and pulls off the light casing. When he unhooks the old bulb, it causes the other bulb to flicker, just for a few moments.

Leo explodes out from under the cot, grabbing the man in fatigues by the legs and yanking as hard as he can. The man yelps in surprise, and Leo hears the sound of the gun going off in a random direction. The janitor shouts and drops the light bulb - the sound of shattering glass joins the cacophony.

Leo jumps to his feet and runs out the door they had been too stupid to close, sprinting toward the EXIT sign. He's exhausted and shaky but he's coursing with adrenaline, and he leans on it hard to keep him moving. Don't stop, don't stop, get out of here. He'll figure out what to do next once he's free.

Past the exit sign there's a large open room with desks and computer monitors. Most of them are off, but one lingering woman in a lab coat, seated at her desk, screams when she sees Leo dash through the middle of the office space.

"Security!" she screams into a device on her chest. "Inmate is escaping! Inmate is escaping!"

Leo doesn't have time to shut her up, he just keeps moving. He pushes through the next door and arrives in a hallway; he only has time to glance one way and then the other before scrambling to the left, hoping it was a good choice.

He rounds a corner and sees another green EXIT sign up ahead. It's not where he meant to go - he meant to find where they're keeping his swords first. But he hears shouting behind him and doesn't stop. Fine, so no portals - he'll figure out something else once he's away from here.

He throws himself forward into the exit door, which leads him into yet another hallway. Another long sprint, with shouting and slamming doors at his heels, and then finally, finally, a third EXIT sign, and he crashes outside.

Where there's snow on the ground, snow on the trees.

It steals his breath away. There shouldn't be snow. It's May.

Where is he?

He takes a breath of air so cold it seizes his lungs, then takes a step forward. He'll worry about that-

BANG!

A piercing pain in his shoulder nearly sends him toppling over. Leo shouts, grasping for the wound and feeling something sticking out of his skin. He grabs it and yanks, pulling it free.

It's a dart.

Damn it, he thinks, before his vision goes woozy, and he collapses into the snow.

-----

"Are you proud of your little escape attempt?" comes Bishop's voice.

Leo looks up from his cot. Bishop has to get so close to the window to see him that his nose is pressed flat against it. It should be hilarious, but Leo doesn't really have the energy to laugh. Or to do much of anything.

He's hungry. He's tired. He's cold. He's still sluggish from the drugs.

And they threw away all his water bottles. Fuckers.

Leo rolls over on the cot and covers his ears.

"What a childish response," says Bishop, and that's funny, too, because Leo literally is a child. Or a teenager, anyway. He doesn't feel like it will help him much to point that out, though.

"All you have to do is answer my questions, and all this will be fixed."

That's the funniest thing of all. The idea that he spills his guts and Bishop treats him to a five course meal to make up for all the pain up till now. Hilarious.

He says nothing.

Bishop sighs.

"You are likely still affected by the tranquilizing agent. I'll return tomorrow."

Before he leaves, he says, "Temperature down five degrees."

-----

The same man is back that night. He opens the window and looks down at Leo with the same leering smile. Leo can't even take satisfaction in the bandage on the side of his head.

"Neat little trick you had yesterday," he says. "Almost got me fired."

Leo wishes it had gotten him fired. But he clearly has no luck in this situation.

"You know, I respect the attempt. And you probably would have gotten farther with a little food in your belly." The man reaches down, then retrieves a sandwich, as mouth-wateringly unappetizing as the last time. "You sure you don't want this?"

And Leo knows he shouldn't trust this guy. Leo knows he should say no.

But he's just...

so...

hungry.

So he gets up. And he turns to the window. On shaking limbs that can barely hold him upright anymore. With a body that is laced with pain and aches and cramps.

And he nods.

The man's smile gets wider. "What do you say?" he asks, in the sing-song tone of a parent scolding a child.

It makes a sick nausea rise in Leo's throat. But he wants the sandwich.

"Please," he gasps out.

"Mmm... not good enough." The man waves the sandwich. "You want this? You beg for it."

Leo stares, eyes wide. But the sandwich... the sandwich...

He gets down on his knees. Feels a searing flush of humiliation. His stomach is rolling and gurgling and cramping with pain, a hollow, empty chasm inside him desperate to be filled.

He lowers his head.

"Please," he says. "I... I want the sandwich. I'm... begging you, please."

The man laughs, loud and long. When Leo finally finds it in him to raise his eyes, the sandwich is already half eaten.

"Hey, good job," says the man, licking a bit of mustard off his thumb. "That was real convincin'."

And then he takes another bite.

Just like that, Leo forgets about the pain, the aches, the cold, the hunger. All that's left is pure, white hot, screaming rage.

Leo lunges at the window and slams his fist into it so hard it cracks. Not enough to break the glass. Not enough to free him. But enough that the man startles and steps back.

And Leo starts to laugh. High and manic and unhinged even to his own ears.

"I'll kill you," he says, and his voice sounds almost joking, and yet- "I'll kill you. You're dead. You're dead, as soon as I get out of here, you're dead, I'll kill you, I'LL KILL YOU!"

The man has dropped the rest of his sandwich. He fumbles for his gun, left somewhere on a table to the side. For one satisfying moment, Leo sees a flash of genuine fear on the man's face.

"Shit," he says, his voice far away the further he gets from the microphone. "Pretty scary, frogboy."

Then he slams a button, and the window goes black, and Leo gets a glimpse of his own reflection.

His face is gaunt and drawn. His eyes are ringed by deep circles, so dark they look like bruises. His body is shaking like a leaf.

And his stripes...

His stripes are lit up like when he uses his ninpo, but they aren't their usual Neon Leon bright.

They're almost black.

Leo gasps and stumbles back just as the window goes white. The full body quakes he feels now aren't from the cold or the hunger or the exhaustion.

He turns and sinks onto the cot. Puts his face in his hands and tries to breathe. Tries to will his ninpo to stop rolling and snapping and to go back to normal.

This isn't what he wants. This isn't him.

This place is breaking him. He's letting it break him.

He pulls his legs up onto the cot and buries his face in his knees. Wraps his arms around them and rocks gently, the way Donnie used to do when things got overwhelming. Maybe he understands that better, now.

This isn't him. He's Leonardo, Neon Leon, the face-man, the jokester! The one who's always ready with a quip and a laugh. The one who can do anything!

Except portal out of his room. Except escape from this building. Except resist begging for a sandwich like he's a dog.

Leo's breath hitches, and for once he doesn't stop himself. He knows the guy outside is probably watching. He knows there are cameras recording this. He hates giving them the satisfaction.

But he's tired, and hungry, and he...

He wants to go home.

He cries, silently, until he's completely rung out.

-----

Maybe they aren't coming.

That's the thought that pops into his head, just a bit after the first water bottle of the day.

He knew they would have gotten a late start, because he stormed out. And he knew it would take them awhile to figure out who took him - he hadn't heard of the EPF before, so why would they? And he knew it would take them time to figure out where he had been taken, which must have been pretty far out if it's snowing outside. But the EPF got him here within a night, he's pretty sure, so unless they have a super fast jet, he must still be on the continent somewhere.

So... so surely they must have figured it out by now, right? Raph is leading the team. Donnie is doing science things. Mikey is razzing his tazz. April is using her investigative skills.

Unless they aren't coming.

Maybe... maybe it's true. Why would they want him back, after all? Leo took Raph's leader position, and since then all he'd managed to do was piss Raph off. Mikey and Donnie hadn't been happy about it, either, and he'd noticed that they'd been avoiding him more and more. April claimed she wasn't taking sides, but she always seemed to be on Raph's anyway. And Dad... well, he was probably disappointed that he made Leo leader only for him to do nothing and then get himself kidnapped.

He doesn't bring anything to the team. He doesn't bring anything to the family. And no one likes his jokes.

So. Maybe they just... aren't looking. Maybe they aren't going to come.

Maybe he's held out this long for no reason. Maybe he's been cold and starving for no reason at all.

Maybe it's time to give up.

---

Don't give up, says a new voice in his head.

You are not alone.

-----

He has no energy left to stand when Bishop comes. The man looks down at him, lips pressed into a thin line.

"You don't look well," he observes.

No shit, Leo wants to say.

"This has gone on long enough. Answer my questions, and we will provide you with food, clothing, and medical care."

The list is getting longer. Leo's fuzzy eyes stare up at Bishop. Medical care. Does he need that?

"You already know what I want to know." Bishop has a furrow between his eyebrows now. "Will you talk to me?"

He could. He could do it. He could finally have some relief from all the pain. All the hunger. All the cold.

But they might hurt the yokai in the Hidden City.

They might hurt Draxum.

They might hurt his family.

And maybe, if nothing else... if Leo could just keep his mouth shut, just this once...

Maybe that would finally make Raph, Dad, and everyone proud of him.

Maybe they'd finally trust him.

Maybe, at least, he can have that much.

Leo shakes his head.

Bishop scowls.

"Temperature down ten degrees."

-----

Leo isn't shivering anymore. That's probably a bad sign.

He can still see his breath, each time he exhales. It rises like smoke, before disappearing into the air.

He doesn't have any energy left, not even to chew on his new water bottles. He hasn't even collected the last two, and they sit crowded together in the slot, untouched.

He kind of wishes they had just dissected him from the beginning. It would have been faster. Freezing to death, he's decided, is a real zero out of ten. Starving to death isn't any better. No stars.

Even though the damn lights are still on, he feels extremely sleepy. It's probably the cold. He wonders what will happen if he brumates. He's never done it before, not like his little cousins, and he has no idea if it's even safe.

Probably not, given he has no calorie reserves left. All it means is he won't be drinking water, either.

But he's so sleepy.

It's going to be time soon for Bishop to come back. Leo doesn't know what the point is anymore. Maybe he'll just sleep through it. Yeah, that would really make him mad. And making Bishop mad is all he has at this point.

And he'll get to sleep. It's a win-win.

So thinking, Leo rolls himself over onto his belly. Then, one by one, he pulls his limbs into his shell.

He doesn't do this much anymore, not since he started growing. His body just doesn't seem to fit his shell like it should - a side effect of the mutation, probably. It's not really comfortable to be inside for long.

But Leo is sleepy. And his shell feels like the best place to be.

So he pulls in his legs, then his arms, and then, finally, his head.

It's not any warmer in here. But at least it's dark.

At least he's not shivering.

Leo sighs, content, and closes his eyes, and drifts to sleep.

-----

(Outside his cell, there's a bang, and shouting, and a gunshot.

The sound is muffled, and Leo sleeps on.)

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Part 1 (here) | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 Part A |

#rottmnt #rise leo #agent bishop #cw: psychological torture #dandy fanfiction #I want it to be clear that any time Leo is hearing “Mind Raph”#that's just his own inner voice manifesting #please don't be mad at Raph himself lol

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