#lmao ignore that it needs a lint rolling
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Another Man's Treasure
Oscar Diaz x f!reader
Word count: 6.8k (I am so sorry lmao)
Warnings: 18+, shitty husband, smut, p in v, unprotected (but pls don't be this stupid), creampie, dirty talk, cheating (but is it really if your husband is an ass), flirting, fluff, love at first sight type shit, Spanish/English pet names (pretty lady, hermosa, cariño), limited use of y/n(I literally used it once) idk lmk if I missed any.
(I only mention the first song but the other two are more for the… spicy scene😏)
——
The only escape from reality you had was the small moments of disassociation you had between the screaming of your children and the-
"Are you fucking kidding me?!"
The shouting of your overgrown child of a husband playing his stupid games on his stupid PS5 that you wanted to set on fucking fire. This is not the life you pictured as a stay-at-home mom, yes the piles of dirty laundry were expected, and the mountainous dishes in the sink but you never predicted you'd be doing this alone. Your own mother stayed at home with you and your two brothers but your dad would still help her around the house so that she got the time to kick her feet up and relax.
You never got that.
You were living with this dark cloud over your head and deep regrets in your mind, why did you marry this man? You did think he was the love of your life, three years together before you got married proved your theory but never did you think it was going to end up like this. The amount of work you did was overwhelming, just one look at the number of toys on the floor made tears sting your eyes. You were tired, exhausted, drained and absolutely depleted.
If this was a job, you'd quit, you would take your children and quit. You wanted to so badly but the small hope of him changing clung to you like a piece of lint. You sighed holding your eleven-month-old on your hip while you made him a bottle, anything to keep him from wailing in your ears-- Jesus, half the time you couldn't hear.
"Babe!"
Your eyes rolled, you loathed his voice at this point. "What?"
"Can you pass me a water bottle?"
"Get up and get it, I'm making Malakai a bottle."
He groaned. "For fuck sake, you're in the kitchen already."
Your nostrils flared, and your eye twitched. You wanted to cuss at him, shout at him until your voice box shattered but you kept whatever calm you had left and ignored him. A small hand landed on your nose and you smiled kissing the tiny palm. "I love you too bubba."
He flashed a little smile and your heart sobbed at the fact that your last baby was growing so fast, teeth already emerging from his gums when just months ago he didn't have any. You could never regret your three little creatures, you loved them dearly, so much so you were willing to put up with the man that helped you create them just so they could have a two-parent household but you didn't know how much longer you could take this.
Heavy footsteps trailed inside the kitchen, you could tell he was angry at the fact that he had to pause his little game just to grab some water. He looked over the sink, utterly disgusted by the site in front of him and instead of just keeping his mouth shut or for once volunteering to do them he decided to spit out a sentence that made you want to knock his head off with the glass bottle you were holding; "You need to wash the dishes."
Your blood was boiling, if life was a cartoon you'd have steam coming out of your ears. "Why don't you get off of the game and do them?" You bit.
He cracked open the bottle cap. "Hey, I'm the one that works all week, you just stay home and do nothing."
Nothing? NOTHING!?
That was it.
That was the tip of the iceberg.
Your shoulders dropped and he left the kitchen, there was that ringing in your ears again that came and went every time you zoned out. Ever since you got married you'd felt nothing but unappreciated by him, you quit your job to stay home with your children and not even a thank you, you made sure he had a good meal when he went to work and all you got in return was an "it was okay." And the disgustingly dirty dish tossed right in the sink you'd just emptied. You were at the end of your rope.
You held back your tears and lightly kissed your son on his head handing him his bottle and putting him on a beam bag so he could lay down and drink. You trotted upstairs to check in on your oldest twins who were in their room colouring and getting along for once. Then you headed to the bathroom locking the door behind you, your body sliding down to the floor, you curled up in a ball burying your head between your knees you let out a long and heavy sigh before your river of tears took over.
A cry session your body and mind were so used to. You wailed into the void, muffling your weeps so that your children wouldn't hear you and come asking what was wrong, a question you couldn't answer without them turning on their father and you didn't want to ruin that relationship they had with him.
You were just so tired.
--
As night fell you remained mute when it came to your husband, whatever he had to say you didn't respond to, you were just happy that it was Sunday and soon he'd be out of your face for a few hours.
With the kids all asleep you were in the kitchen on FaceTime with your older brother. "The kids are great, they're sleeping." You conversed.
"And how have you been?"
There was no hiding how you felt when it came to your siblings, you were the baby and the only girl so when you were hurt they knew and they'd do whatever they could to fix it. "I'm okay... I'll be okay." You reassured. He was the only one who knew some small details about what you were going through and you begged him not to say anything not even to your mother until you figured out how to deal with everything yourself.
"Hey, listen, Jordyn is going on vacation next week, she's hitting Fiji, and I think you should go with her."
You squinched up your face, you didn't have a problem with your brother's wife, always so thankful for the sister you never got but what about your kids? Could you even trust that man to take over your duties even for a day?
As if he read your mind he continued. "I mean it'll be summer break next week, and they can stay by me if you want. I just, I really think you need time away from life. I want to see my little sister happy."
You pouted, it really touched your heart how concerned he was. A vacation would be wonderful, it was all you could dream of after the kids were born, you loved them but you just wanted to be by yourself.
"I'll think about it."
"Well, don't think too hard." He joked. "Whatever. I gotta get their lunches together, I'll call you when I make my decision."
"Sounds good, night."
"Night."
The call ended and you finished packing the twins' lunch placing the bags on the only empty spot on the counter. You huffed at the dishes and your husband's words replayed in your head. Nothing. You do absolutely nothing.
The longer you stared a vengeful plan began to brew. You were about to show him what doing nothing meant.
--
You decided you were going on that trip, Jordyn was excited and your brother was happy with your choice. The week flew by quickly, you kept up your normal appearance of keeping the house clean and to your husband's liking and by each day you grew more distant from him not like he cared in the first place.
On the last day of school you explained to the twins that you were taking a trip with Aunty Jordyn and they, unfortunately, couldn't come but they'd be staying with their uncle and they'd loved that man to death so they were excited either way. Your house was a mess and for once you smiled at it, you'd been letting everything pile up for the last two days, packing the clean clothes they did have in advance. The only explanation you gave your husband was that they were all staying by your brother for the week but you didn't mention that you weren't coming back.
You were leaving tonight and there would be no stopping you. You loaded the van with their stuff and yours and hollered for them to get their little butts in the car. "Last one in the car has stinky feet!" You laughed at the building volume of stomping feet coming across the hall and down the stairs, your twins were out and your youngest sat on your hip giggling at their antics. You happily wrote a short note.
Bye.
That's it.
You showered your baby in kisses and grabbed your keys before heading out the door, you locked it and made your way to the car, buckling in your baby and making sure the other two were in securely. You closed the door and first time in a long time you felt a weight off your shoulders, you smiled in satisfaction at how you left the house knowing you were not going to answer a single phone call from that man.
--
Jordyn squealed. "Ugh! I am so excited I don't even know what to do with myself!" You laughed at her enthusiasm as you put your hair up in a ponytail. It was day 2 of your trip and you were living life, you couldn't remember the last time you felt this relaxed. Now, of course, you missed your children it'd been the longest you'd ever been apart from them so you were a bit clingy with the calls but it was all understandable.
You two were hitting the beach today and you were a bit nervous, nobody had seen your body in almost a year not even your husband but Jordyn had persuaded you to find your behind in a two-piece bikini and you argued that you'd wear it as long as you could wear a cover-up so it was a deal. You looked yourself over in the mirror, you felt oddly confident. You looked fucking good. Three kids did your body right.
"You sure you want that cover-up?" She teased watching you admire yourself. "Hmm," You angled your lower half so you could check out your bum, how plump it had become over the years. "Maybe not."
She winked. "That's my girl."
You two grabbed what you needed and headed down to the beach which was right in front of the hotel you were staying at. The slight wind brushed against the water sending a cool and comforting breeze your way, your ears wiggled at the sound of the waves, and the giggles of other vacationers enjoying their time like you were.
The cushiony sand had greeted your toes after overflowing onto your sandals. You two travelled until you found a decent spot, it was close to the bar and the body of water. You set up your area as best as you could but you were in a battle with the beach umbrella Jordyn insisted on bringing. She watched with her hand covering her mouth to camouflage her laughter. "Okay, you know what, I'll handle this and you go handle us some drinks."
You childishly stuck out your tongue and strutted your way over to the bar, you hopped on an available stool. The bartender noticed you asking for you to just give him a minute. "No worries." You responded. You went on your phone and checked the many pictures your brother sent of your children, you smiled and a bit of sadness tugged at your heart. You missed your babies dearly.
The number of messages went up and it could only be one person. You promised you wouldn't look but you just had to, you swiped and tapped on your husband's name.
Where the fuck are you!?
The house is a fucking mess!
I'm not cleaning up, I hope you know that.
Baby, come on, we can work this out. Please.
You scoffed at the last message and put your phone down casually being greeted by the bartender who watched your various emotions while you went through your phone. "Everything's okay?"
Oh. Wow.
He presented a sweet smile, your eyes slightly widening at the sight in front of you. He was handsome, scratch that, he was fine as fuck. The shaved head didn't usually work on a lot of men but it did him justice, the scattered tattoos on his pretty and tanned skin, his broad shoulders that looked like they were made for legs to be hooked on and not to mention his big arms that looked like they could hold you snug and tight all through the night.
"Uh, yeah, everything's... everything is good." You stammered, a queasy feeling crept through you as it settled in your lower stomach. Butterflies? But you couldn't even remember what that felt like in order to come to that conclusion.
"Good to know. What can I get you, ma?"
You shuddered at his voice. He could talk to you all day.
"One Long Island, and one Piña Colada please."
He nodded. "Starting off slow I see." He chuckled. "Eh, we're on vacation, gotta soak it all up before we go back."
"I see," He multitasked making your drinks and conversing. "And when does the pretty lady go back?"
You blushed, should you even tell this literal stranger when you're actually leaving? But he felt... comfortable, easy to talk to and it's not like you'd ever see him again. "End of the week."
"Oh, you have plenty of time to get shit-faced." He encouraged. He'd finished your order and placed the liquored-down drinks in front of you. "Don't worry about paying yeah? It's on the house. Enjoy your vacation pretty lady."
"Y/n... you could just call me Y/n."
Not like you wanted him to, pretty lady was working just fine
"Nice to meet you. Oscar... Diaz." He winked. "Thanks, for the drinks."
"Anytime, pretty lady."
Your legs felt wonky as you walked away, and your breathing quickened. You did your best to walk back to Jordyn without looking back, if you did you were pretty sure you'd fall, just clumsy as fuck. "Girl, that man was watching you walk away." She whispered. "Stop." You poked, shoving her drink toward her. "Oh please, his eyes were on you." Jordyn gazed over to the bar, "He's still staring."
You casually whipped your head around and sucked your teeth when you noticed he wasn't. You glared at her. She snickered taking a sip from her Long Island. "Makes good drinks too."
You sighed, "Shut up."
The topic was silenced, you downed a few more drinks but sent Jordyn to get them instead while you swam around in the cooling water, floating around enjoying the peace the water brought you. But you couldn't help but occasionally look over to the bar. Oscar Diaz... nice name. Nice face. Cute little moustache that sat above his lips and a goatee that sat below. Pretty rosy pink lips...
Your eyes darted away. You're married.
Are you though?
You swam back up to the beach, it was beginning to get dark and the patrons on the beach became scarce. You wrapped yourself in a towel and collected anything Jordyn hadn't packed up yet. "You want one more drink before they close up? Maybe your new friend will allow it." She teased. You took off your flip-flop and threw it at her but your reaction only made her laugh.
A familiar voice was heard behind you. "So she's beautiful and she's got good aim, better watch out."
You quietly gasped. "Hi... Oscar."
"Hey, uhm, listen I own a club not too far from here and you know it's a decent hangout for the locals... and the visitors." He winked. "Wanted to know if you two would like to come check it out?"
You fought back a smile. "We could try." You answer without even thinking. "I'll take that," He reached into his pocket handing you a folded piece of paper, you assumed had the address of the place he owned. Your fingers brushed against his, prickles felt like they were forming on your skin and those weird feelings returned in your lower stomach.
He sent you another wink and headed back off to the bar to close up.
--
Of course, Jordyn was down to go. You groaned internally as you two pulled up to a crowded place, looking up at the illuminated sign reading Cloud 9. Hmm, cute. You pulled down your dress as it rose up with each step, your heels clicking against the cold ground, the music booming so loud you could feel your body vibrating the closer you got to the entrance, flashing lights of different colours beamed through the door every time it opened blinding whoever entered. "Where's your friend?" Jordyn asked. "Have patience, I just told him we got here."
"Mhm." She sassed. Your heart thumped in your ears, it pounded against your chest. What were you doing? It was a question you asked yourself from the moment you got back to your room and began to get ready for tonight. You shook off your thoughts and shifted your eyes over to a black door that slowly began to open. "Hey, over here." Oscar waved you two over and you followed. "What's going on, pretty lady?... And pretty lady's friend."
Jordyn nodded at him as a silent greeting, she was just here to observe your anxious behaviour for her entertainment. "Come on," You followed him through a dimly lit hallway and up a flight of stairs, your nerves building and sudden regret forming in your bones until you entered a brighter atmosphere, the loud music returning to your eardrums. He had led you two to a section that only had a few people, you could assume it was the VIP section.
"Anything you two want to drink just let me know and I got you."
Jordyn raised her eyebrows at the tempting bottle of unopened champagne sitting in a bucket of ice. Oscar chuckled granting her permission to open it, she shimmied her shoulders in excitement and got to work. You shook your head at her, you travelled over to the balcony and looks down at all the patrons having the time of their lives, a few familiar faces from the resort and others that weren't recognizable which you could only assume were locals.
Oscar found his place beside you and nudged your shoulder with his. "You want anything to drink?"
"No, not yet, I'm good."
He slowly nodded. "So, what are you doing in Fiji? Besides vacationing."
You huffed, "I just needed time to myself... to get away from shit."
"I hear that." You could just feel those sweet and curious brown eyes boring into the side of your head, you poked the inside of your cheek with your tongue and looked down at your shoes, just anything to not make eye contact with him. You were shy, you were never shy not even with your husband when you first met him. It's like this was a new feeling, you were queasy and nervous and it honestly felt good in a weird way-- it felt good to not be comfortable, to get all flustered over someone like a schoolgirl crush.
"You really own this place?"
He scrunched up his face. "Half own, I guess. My brother and I came here for an escape just like you and we ended up staying. Now, we own Cloud Nine and I work down at the resort once in a while."
"Oh, you're a busy man."
"I try to be." Oscar chuckled. He was so easy to talk to, why was he so easy to talk to?
You found yourself moving a bit closer. "What were you trying to escape from?"
"Life. I wasn't happy where I was living and I wanted better but... given the circumstances, we just couldn't get it. So I threw a dart on a map, so to speak, it landed on Fiji and we've been here ever since."
"Where are you from then?"
"Originally born in Mexico, we moved to LA, and then out here."
"Would you ever go back to the States?" You asked finally looking up at him knowing he hadn't taken his eyes off you all night. He leaned forward, officially entering your bubble. "If I had a good enough reason... yeah."
You looked up at him through your lashes and softly smiled, meanwhile, Jordyn sat on the couch sipping and shaking her head at the sight in front of her. She would playfully scold you in the morning but tonight she'd let you have your harmless fun.
As the party went on you were getting a bit bored being upstairs so you grabbed your girl and headed downstairs to where the crowd was and of course Oscar was right behind you, he felt a sense of protection over you two tonight given this was your first time out here and inside his establishment. You had found enough confidence to start dancing around, a little two-step from left to right to get you going, but soon the constant flow of drinks Jordyn handed you helped you loosen out of that as well.
The DJ was beginning to play all the oldies, and that was your specialty. Oscar watched in adornment as you killed every lyric, every adlib and every beat to whichever song came on. It had transitioned from a bit of Hip-hop to something a lot slower.
"Right now, we're gonna slow it down a bit, so grab your lovers and take your time."
The lights changed to blue and a recognizable first note had you close your eyes.
Mmm ooooh, my my my my my my my babyyy ouuuuuu
Jordyn had already found herself dancing with a random woman. She looked widened her eyes at you and quickly flicked them over to Oscar, trying her best to encourage you to make your move. But he was faster. You felt yourself being pulled into his warm embrace, his strong chest against your exposed back, his hands carefully snaking around your waist as if he was worried about you rejecting his touch but you gladly welcomed it.
Melting into his hold you two swayed side to side, he leaned down comfortably nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. You were lost in the vibes of Keith Sweat's Right and a Wrong Way. You reached back hooking your arm around his neck lightly scratching his scalp with your nails. "You smell so good, mamita." He whispered, it was a miracle that you heard him. Your lips parted slightly as you felt his warm breath tickle your skin. His swift hands ran up your sides resting right under your breasts and gliding back down to your hips.
A thumping began between your thighs, now that was something you hadn't felt in a long time. You put that feeling to the side no matter how hard it was to do so. The rest of the night it felt like all the songs were targeted for just you two, you hadn't eased up on him once-- always in close proximity to him. He touched you in simple ways, ways you hadn't been touched in almost a year.
It was getting super late, almost three in the morning and you couldn't recall the last time you were out like this, it'd give you hell when you woke up but it was worth it. You and Jordyn rode back to the resort with Oscar, she exited the car first thanking him for the night out and wobbling her way inside. You giggled watching her walk away, "I should get in there before she tries the key on the wrong room."
But you didn't want to leave him.
And he didn't want to leave you.
"Thanks for tonight, I had a lot of fun."
"No problem, anything to help a pretty lady escape." He bit his lip. "What are your plans for tomorrow?"
"Recovering," You laughed, "But other than that nothing."
"Can I see you again?"
You gulped and nodded. "Mhm."
He laid out his palm your eyebrows furrowed as you rested yours on top of his, he brought the back of your hand to his lips and placed such a gentle kiss on your skin. "Goodnight, mamita."
You wanted to scream. You left the car putting a little swing in your hips as you walked away, you looked over your shoulder and sent him a cute little wave before disappearing behind the doors.
— —
And that's how you spent the rest of your trip, shamelessly flirting with Oscar. You got to know each other a lot more, when you weren't spending time with Jordyn you were with him. Giggling like an airhead and blushing red like Rudolph's nose.
Jordyn constantly teases you about the crush you'd seem to quickly develop.
"Is this stupid?" You ask shoving your face in the pillow. This all felt too good to be fucking true, a guy that you met only four days ago was treating you so much better than the man you married four years ago. Oscar had flowers for you at the front desk of the resort every morning and sent you the sweetest messages throughout the day about how he was thinking of you, how he caught a glimpse of you today and you looked stunning, calling you the prettiest woman he'd ever seen step on this island.
You convinced yourself they were all lies, sugarcoating you like he probably did every woman but who were you fooling? Certainly not yourself and certainly not Jordyn.
"It's not."
"I'm married." You argued tiredly to which she fake yawned. "I don't see a ring on that finger and I don't see that man treating you any better than Oscar has. Just saying."
The fingers on your right hand brushed your vacant ring finger, you'd taken it off the minute you got on the plane, you didn't want to be reminded of him on this trip at all and yet there was that piece in the back of your mind that reached out to him. Checking his messages once in a while but never responding, he was giving you the attention you wanted but it didn't feel right.
The fact that you had to spontaneously leave to get even a fraction of what you were asking for was bullshit. Downright bullshit.
You groaned sitting up the pads of your fingers now rubbing your temples, tired and stressed. The trip was almost over and you dreaded going back to that house that was no longer a home. He'd sent you pictures that he'd finally cleaned up but you had a feeling once you returned home things would go back to the way they were and you did not want that.
"I think your brother would agree with me, you've smiled more in these past few days than I've seen back home, I mean you two are always so distant when you come over. And don't think I don't hear your rants when you and your brother are on the phone. Now I don't condone cheating but, hey, I didn't see shit."
You sighed checking your phone for any recent texts from your husband but Jordyn caught wind of what you were doing and snatched your device. "Enough with him. Flirt and have fun before you have to go back to normalcy."
You heard your phone buzz in her hand, she looked at the message for you. "Speaking of, someone is downstairs."
You felt nauseous. "Where are you two going anyway?"
"Down to the beach, said he has to restock the bar... and I wanted to spend time with him so I offered to help."
"Mhm." She winked. You grabbed your phone back from her grasp and told her you'd be back soon. You left your room, entered the elevator and headed downstairs where Oscar was happily waiting for you. "Hola querida." He become more comfortable speaking Spanish around you, especially when he noticed how the little nicknames got a reaction out of you.
"Hi," Oscar noticed the shaky tone in your response and made note of it You had comfortably slipped your hand inside his, he immediately hooked his fingers in the spaces of yours. Like he was your puzzle piece.
You two headed down to the decent-sized Hut, your eyes widened at the number of boxes sitting on the sand. "Don't worry, I got the heavy bottles, you just get the small ones." He reassured pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You loved those, so innocent and sweet, although you wish sometimes he'd kiss you on your lips or you had to courage to kiss his. "Think I can't handle the big boxes?" You scoffed walking inside after him.
"I think you can, I just don't think my pretty lady needs to."
My pretty lady.
ugh!
With music playing in the background you two got to work, "Do you still think about running your own restaurant?" You asked sparking a conversation, you squatted down to the lower shelves and propped the glass bottles in an organized fashion, eyes tearing through the material of your sundress and you could feel them. "I do, yeah. Why?"
You bit your lip. "Would it still be down here?"
There was a beat of silence. "Most likely."
Another pause in the moment aside from your soft humming to the music. "You excited to see your kids?" He asked. You smiled at the mere thought of them. "I am. My three little headaches." Oscar found himself next to you, leaning against the counter, you stopped your movements and looked up-- he had one arm folded over the other and a bit of a scowl on his face.
"What?" You innocently question standing up to match his eye line, well more-like chest line. "Nothing, just trying to take my time to remember this face." He reached for your cheek, his fingers ghosting your flesh. "You flirt like this with all the girls here?"
A question that was supposed to come out jokingly but you were a bit serious. "Nah," You squinted at him watching his lips press together, his chest stuttering as he held back a laugh. "You asshole, I knew it." A dramatic hand to your heart as you playfully pouted at him and fake cried. Oscar's arms enveloped you in their warmth, you attempted to push him off but it was no use, your feet suddenly off the ground, you squealed and giggled as he switched positions with you plopping you on top of the counter.
He placed his palms flat on the side of your thighs while he was positioned comfortably between them. "To be fair, hermosa, it is kind of my job. But believe me when I say I've never spent any time with them. And I've definitely never brought them back here after hours." His thumb and pointer finger pinching your chin. "Just you, princesa."
You melted, your whole body could be seen physically slumping in his hold. His eyes sparkled while he looked at you, the crinkles in his eyes appearing as he smirked. Before you could comprehend anything his lips brushed yours, your head suddenly becoming foggy with the inappropriate images of him that you'd conjured up these past few days.
His nimble fingers danced along the hem of your dress, a rush of heat passing over you as he hiked it up further exposing more of your flesh.
This was no longer a want... it was a need.
Your hands landed right under his jaw as you pulled him in crashing your lips onto his and he happily reciprocated your energy, his hands wandered up to your hips tugging you closer to him as if it were possible. Your lips moved as one, tongues passing by in the heat of the moment, the only thing on your mind was him and you wanted it to remain so for as long as possible.
Tingles scattered around your body, both of you flushed with lust and arousal. Your hands travelled to the bottom of his shirt quietly begging for him to take it off, you needed to feel his skin, thankfully he got the message-- pulling away for a brief moment to remove his top. Your eyes glazed over his lightly tanned skin, little scars here and there you can only presume he earned before he got here.
You smiled at the strewed ink on his torso, chest and ribs. "What are you thinking about?" He inquired. You looked back up into his brown iris'. "I wish I had met you first." You mumbled drawing him back down, this kiss was a lot more passionate and slow unlike the first.
Oscar's hands gently tugged at the neckline of your dress, your breasts spilling over and his calloused hands finding them. You softly moaned against his lips, your nipples hardening from the cool breeze and his fondling. He pinched and rolled them between his fingers, your head tipped back and his teeth nipped at the column of your neck.
You were forming a small pool in your panties at his teasing. His tongue grazed your neck continuously licking and sucking a specific spot that was getting a squirming reaction out of you. You felt his devilish smile, he knew what he was doing to you and he liked it.
His hands moved from torturing your swollen breasts back down to your thighs shoving your dress up until your little black panties were on display. You sat on the edge of the counter making it a bit easier for him to remove them, the cool air hitting your soaking slit.
"Touch me, please, touch me." You whined not caring about how desperate and needy you sounded. Oscar listened to your pleas and dipped one hand between your legs, his fingers quickly finding your slick folds. You shuddered as he glided two fingers up and down, dipping them inside you once in a while.
You were soaking, you were throbbing, and you just wanted him inside you where he fucking belonged. He slowly plunged his fingers inside, you clench around them happy to have something pleasuring you. Your eyes are closed and your legs spread further for him, nails digging into his shoulder blade hopefully leaving little indents.
He pumped them in and out of you with the squidgy noise of your wetness to follow. "Yes... oh yes, like that."
Oscar felt himself twitch under his boxers using his other hand to undo his belt and pulled down his materials. His dick is hard and his tip a rosy pink turning cherry red oozing with a bit of cream, his hips buckled once his hand brushed over it-- equally as desperate as you were. Your erotic moans were like music to his ears, so much sexier than he could've pictured. You whined once he removed them your hole flexing around nothing as you caught your breath.
Oscar hooked your legs over his arms spreading you to his desire, you reached between your bodies firmly (but not too tight) grasping his length and guiding it to your entrance, his swollen head prodding inside you as the rest of him followed.
Your jaw slacked at the feeling of him deliciously stretching you out, he was so thick and it felt so nice. Oscar croaked out a moan while burying himself deep inside your warmth-- coating his dick with your sticky walls, so slick and welcoming that he didn't want to move.
You caressed the back of his neck as he pressed another kiss on yours, trailing it up the side and finally landing on your mouth. You giggled into the kiss, Oscar pulled back with a questioning look. "I can't tell the last time I felt like this." You mumbled under your breath but he heard you. He didn't want you to leave, hell if you didn't have kids he'd probably try to convince you to move out here with him.
He didn't say anything in response just pulled out and pushed back in. "Fuck." You both moaned.
His head dipped back down, nibbling on your sweet skin.
You whimpered through every tantalizing stroke he gave you, his tip poking right at your hot spot and you knew you wouldn't last. "You feel so good!" A sentence broken by little gasps. Oscar grunted, violently gripping your thighs as he pounded you, pulling the filthiest sounds from your pretty little throat. So loud and erotic he was sure they could hear you back at the resort.
Your eyes squeeze in absolute bliss, your head hazy from the constant pleasure you received, quickly feeling a sensation in your lower belly a wave of heat threatening to take over. Your palm lay flat on his back while the other gripped the edge of the counter.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck! Oscar!"
He lifted you off the counter a bit, relentlessly slamming into you now. Your high getting closer and closer. "I can, shit, I can feel you mamita. So fucking tight."
Your toes curled and your eyes rolled. "Baby, ohhh, I need to..."
Oscar smiled. "You wanna cum for me, baby? Come, mi amor, all of it."
His words tipped you off the edge, your back arched and your body trembled from the shockwaves of your orgasm, he held you closely revelling in your pulsating pussy dripping down his shaft.
He quickly brought you off the countertop, your wobbly legs barely holding your support. He turned you around, you barely recovered from the first position.
You were sensitive and extra wet just how he wanted you. You flinched when he pressed himself against your entrance once again, pushing in ever so carefully. "Fuck... you."
He laughed menacingly, his hands squeezing your hips. "That's what I'm doin' pretty lady."
You wanted to give him a smart-ass answer but it was cut short when he began to move. Your nipples were hard against the surface, you rested your head down and whined. "So fucking good."
"Yeah?" He chuckled spanking you. He was enjoying the pornographic sounds that you provided, all going straight to his dick.
He wrapped his arm around your waist pulling you up against him, back pressed on his chest, his warm breath in your ear. "Can't get enough of you I swear." He admitted.
He poked and prodded against that familiar spot, tears of overwhelming pleasure threatening to spill when he pinched your nipple. "Fuck! I'm gonna miss you, so fucking much."
"You gonna think about me?"
"Yes! Oh!"
You felt him twitch inside you, you smiled egging him on. "I won't stop thinking about you, when I touch myself I'll picture it's you-"
"Fuck, cariño,"
"Ou, you're the only one I want inside me."
You convulsed around him feeling another orgasm quickly building and getting ready to fall apart. A few more thrusts and Oscar held himself still inside you, your body shivering at the warm cream he just spilled inside you. His high triggering yours. You reached behind hooking your arm around his now sweaty neck.
The sound of the wind against the water and the waves crashing describe exactly how you felt right now.
"Oh... my god." You said breathlessly.
"You're okay?" He asked with a laugh. You giggled tipping your head back on to his shoulder. "Better than okay."
He sighed kissing your back. "I meant it..." You said.
"What?"
"I'm gonna miss you."
He smiled sheepishly. "I'll miss you too."
--
Those moments replayed in your head constantly, it was the only thing getting you by once you came back home. You two still talked every day, called and FaceTimed but it wasn't enough. You would stare at the prices of tickets and sigh, you couldn't afford to go back right now.
Your life was the same, unloved and unappreciated, despite the embarrassingly desperate messages your husband had sent when you were on your trip. You stared at another pile of dishes, your shoulder sinking with exhaustion. With your two older ones at school and your son almost an hour into his nap you decided to just relax. You clicked on Netflix and attempted to finish Bridgerton's, Queen Charlotte.
Your eyelids felt heavy, sleep threatened to take over but the doorbell had them shoot open. It wasn't just one ring it was multiple and it was annoying so you assumed it was your brother. You groaned trudging to the door. You swung it open aggressively, ready to give him a piece of your mind. "You're going to wake-"
There he was. Standing in front of you, on your doorstep... at your house. "O-Oscar..." You poked his chest to see if he was really there. "Said I'd come back when I have a good reason." Your eyes softened, your arms reaching for him. His lips immediately find yours. "I," kiss, "fucking," kiss "missed you."
Your legs wrapped around his waist as he stepped inside closing the door. He carried you over to the couch and plopped you on the cushions. You laughed, your mood immediately changing with him around. "Jordyn told you where I lived didn't she?"
He nodded. You rolled your eyes. "Of course."
"Not happy to see me?"
You pulled him down for another kiss.
"Beyond happy."
I was going to wait until the weekend to post this but I am a little too excited to get this out.
Shoutout to my girl @darqchilddaydreamz for her input on a few things and her encouragement. Holdin it down ✊🏾
if you liked this fic feel free to like this fic, comments and reblogs are appreciated.
Alsooooo thank you for 800 followers, yall cool as fuck thanks for fucking with me and my antics.
Peace and love see you in the next one✌🏾
🏷: @darqchilddaydreamz @skyesthebomb @realhotgurlshit
#Spotify#oscar diaz#spooky#spooky x reader#oscar diaz x fem!reader#spooky fanfic#spooky fanfiction#on my block fanfic#on my block#on my block fanfiction#smut#oscar diaz smut#marleywrites#marleysfanfictions
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would you like to stay forever?
SUMMARY⎮ Sparring with Pro Hero Kirishima Eijiro in his private gym at his home doesn't seem like a bad idea if you don't count the fact that you really, really like him.
STATS⎮ minors do not interact, 18+ ⎮ Rating: M (for mature) ⎮ WC: 5525 ⎮ Pairing: Pro Hero Kirishima Eijiro x Fem!Reader ⎮ Tags: Aged Up Character(s), Friends to Lovers, Sparring, Smut, Fluff, Age/Experience Gap (if you really squint) ⎮ AO3
NOTES⎮ Thanks to @spacelabrathor for listening to me scream about this and to @some-kindofgnome for fueling my Kiri fever dreams. Yes, that title is based on a Mulan quote. This whole fic was based on THIS POST and Kirishima seemed like the perfect character for this pwp. Hope y'all enjoy! (Also please for the love of God, click on the banner to see in HD if you’re on mobile, it looks so much better lol)
It was Saturday and even though you’re on your way to becoming a Pro Hero, you can think of several things you’d rather be doing with your one day off than going to Kirishima Eijiro’s house to spar. But here you are pulling into his driveway, going over combat moves in your head as if your life depended on it. They weren’t really serving their purpose which was to distract yourself. Kiri had offered up his personal gym, encouraged you to stop by with one hand in his pocket and the other rubbing the back of his neck as if he was nervous.
A couple of his friends had already taken him up on the offer. You were the only one he’d offered who hadn’t come over yet. He had texted you a couple of weeks later saying he was starting to take it personally… and then immediately texted with a laughing emoji just to clarify he was only giving you a hard time. It brings a smile to your face now as you remember it. Yesterday he had also clarified it would just be the two of you if you were self-conscious sparring in front of other people. You’d have the whole place to yourselves. Like that should mean something. Which it did. It does , you realize with butterflies growing in your stomach. Kiri doesn’t need to know that though.
The two of you had been toeing around something since you had been hired at Fatgum’s Agency a year ago. Neither of you had made a move. Kirishima, the Red Riot, was a big Pro Hero and while you took pride in your quirk, it didn’t hold a coin to some of the others you’d come in contact with. It had surprised you when Toyomitsu had brought you on. But he had mumbled something about “liking your spunk” and that he thought a teleportation quirk would be a useful one to add to his agency. The first day you had shown up, Kiri had immediately caught your eye. Not for the obvious reasons. Obvious reasons being the fact that he was climbing the Pro Hero charts or the fact that he had a dynamically interesting quirk or that at twenty-five he was already built like a brickhouse.
Those were all valid reasons, yes, but what had pulled you in was his smile and his genuine interest in you outside of your quirk. But he was just like that you had quickly discovered. He knew everyone’s coffee order and what they liked for lunch. He knew when to push and when to back off. He knew when to talk and when to listen , knew when he still had a lesson to learn. The kids flocked to him. Even now you’re still entirely convinced that’s actually his quirk, getting people to like him. It’s not a difficult thing to do though.
Your brain stutters back to the present when a text notification pings from your cell phone as you sit in Kiri’s driveway, picking at non-existent lint on your gym shorts. The cute ones you’re still convincing yourself were your only clean pair and that’s the only reason you wore them.
KIRI : i saw u pull up, u gonna come in or what 😂
Had he been waiting for you to get there? You tapped out a quick response, one that hid the little flip in your stomach at the thought: creeper, you were watching for me lmao
Response bubbles immediately flash on your phone screen but you’re angling out of your car and shutting the door before he can reply.
Somehow, this house fits Kiri perfectly. It isn’t big. You had seen pictures of other top-ranking Pros’ houses. Enji Todoroki’s house, for example, was fucking ridiculous. But even without a massive floor plan, Kiri’s house is nicer than any you’d been in for some time. Clean, straight lines and lots of windows. In fact, you can see straight through the floor-to-ceiling windows out to his backyard when you reach the front door. Is that a pool ? Kiri had tons of fun showing pictures at the agency; it was a well-deserved investment for his already multiple years of service as a Pro. The pictures hadn’t done the place justice though.
Kiri comes to the door, throwing it wide open with a huge grin that shows off his sharp teeth. You ignore the way your mouth goes dry as he drags you in, babbling on like an excited little kid at you actually coming.
“I really thought you were gonna back out! I mean, that would have been fine, of course. I just can’t see the point of having the whole place to myself all the time.” He’s irresistibly cute, walking around showing you the living room and the kitchen and pointing out to the backyard where, yes, there is indeed a pool. “You can come over any time and use that too if you want!” You thank him, warmth pooling in your stomach at how incredibly nice he is.
“Uh, we should probably get in the gym. I have… stuff to do later,” you finish lamely. You don’t have anything to do later but very quickly you’re realizing how far out of your depth you are here. The familiar beginnings of the head over heels fall is washing over you in steady waves. But you’re coworkers and the thought of coming to work every day and having to see his adorable face and not doing anything about it is almost making you nauseous.
“Oh, yeah, it’s just down the hallway,” he rumbles, leading the way and you follow trying and failing miserably to calm the nerves flashing through your veins. You’re here alone with Kiri , the man you’ve been crushing on since you’d started working with him a year ago. And now your stupid brain isn’t just thinking about what it would feel like to run your tongue along his teeth or how his hands would feel between your legs. No, your stupid brain is thinking about what Kiri looks like when he first opens his eyes in the morning.
Your one-track mind is not getting any help, especially when Kiri walks through the doorway of the gym addition and immediately proceeds to pull his shirt up and over his shoulders and tosses it to the side. Shit. His back muscles ripple with the movement and when he turns to face you, it’s heart-wrenchingly obvious that he has no idea the effect he’s having on you. He has to know . Doesn’t he? From your end, it seems wildly obvious that someone as good-looking as him should know .
You glance around, eternally grateful for the fact that the gym is also attractive. Floor to ceiling windows span two of the walls here as well and there’s a large set of French doors leading out to the yard. You find yourself actually in awe when you get a better look at the landscaping. It’s so green . There’s a small patch of lawn but the rest is just artfully arranged native flora and fauna. Violets, tulips. Huge hosta plants. And cherry trees heavy with their signature sakura blossoms.
“Kiri, it’s beautiful!” He comes to stand beside you, looking out the French doors as well.
“You like it? I guess it is pretty nice, huh?” You glance up at him, your chest expanding on a lurch looking at his smile. You’d never noticed before but he has a light dusting of freckles across his nose.
“Yeah, really nice.” You look out again, letting the silence grow until it feels like the most comfortable thing in the world. After what seems like an eternity Kiri clears his throat, rocking back on the balls of his feet. “What are you thinking for today?” The question leaves your lips and you’re immediately regretting it; your stomach flips again when Kiri looks at you like you’re prey.
“Close combat, hand-to-hand combat. You did mention a while ago you wanted to strengthen that, right?” You throw your head back, rolling your eyes, and groan. The two of you make your way to the center of the mat.
“Yeah, I mean, I’d be scared to take me on too,” Kiri says, large hands on even larger hips. He isn’t as tall as some of the other heroes at six foot three inches but he’s wide , thick. You know for a fact you couldn’t wrap your arms around his waist and have your hands meet. He’s wearing the biggest shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen. The sharpened points of his canines are out and on prominent display. Famous last words you think as a snarl erupts on your face.
“I’m not scared , Kiri. I just don’t want to wear you out . You’re a Pro Hero. You’re on the job a lot more than I am. Plus, you’re getting kind of old. Is that a little gray I see coming in?” Kiri bares his teeth even more but it’s not lost on you that he quickly reaches up to rake his fingers through his hair. There isn’t any gray, obviously , but the thought has Red Riot distracted. Distracted enough that when you plant your feet and your fist connects with his face, your knuckles hit skin and not the reinforced rock of his quirk.
“ Shit.” Kiri takes a step back, reaching up to cradle his jaw. His tongue swipes out to lick at the blood on his bottom lip. His vermillion eyes find yours and if you didn’t work with him on a regular basis, you would have felt fear at this moment. You know he wouldn’t hurt you but even now, a thrill races through your veins like electricity. He looks as if he’s going to devour you. You take your own step back, readying your quirk, reaching out to it as your fists hold their position in front of your body. A dark chuckle spills from his chest as Kiri calls on his own quirk.
Now it was your turn to be distracted; you had always been fascinated by Kiri’s quirk, the way his body looked when it hardened up. The ripples of muscle still visible under the toughened skin. The divots and ridges and how they mapped their way across his shoulders and chest and abdomen. You knew how it felt to the touch in fake combat. The Fatgum heroes all took pride in maintaining a healthy routine; sparring was a common workout that was previously done at a local public gym. You wonder absently what it would feel like to touch him slow and at the moment. When you could give extra attention with extra time.
Kiri closes the space between the two of you at the moment your mind strays and you barely are able to teleport out of the way to avoid him crashing into you. You try to take a swipe at him as you materialize from in front of him to behind but this time he’s ready for you and he’s using his quirk. Instead of moving out of the way, he plants his feet and allows your punch to hit. Pain radiates up through your fingers and wrist. It always irritated you that you had to prepare yourself to strike Kiri when he was using his quirk. Otherwise, you’d be in for a whole lot of hurt every time you landed a punch.
Teleportation is a pretty handy quirk. It gives you a pretty good advantage the more you work on your close combat skills. The trick with Kiri was to keep going at him until he ran out of energy. You hadn’t gotten to that point yet; your quirk had its limits as well. You were only two years out of UA, Kiri was out by seven. His strength was already fairly unmatched; sparring with him was always good practice. You relish the thought of the day you can win a sparring session without tapping out. It surges through you like pure energy.
You teleport to stand in front of him again, shifting your weight into your hips and up through your right hook. This time your fist connects with Kiri’s side and he lets out a small grunt. Your fingers don’t hurt so bad this time and by the time Kiri is retaliating, you jump back a few feet. He hmms, a sound that reverberates from his chest.
“That’s all well and good but how do you expect to do anything if you jump that far away?” He lunges forward at a running start, leaping at the last second, sending his gloved fist into your stomach. You were fast, but still not always fast enough. You double over, the air rushing from your lungs and your pre-workout protein smoothie threatening to exit back the way it went in. Sweat is already beading on your brow and sliding under your tank top. You take a few breaths through your nose when an idea pops into your head; you stay bent over. “Hey, I didn’t hit you that hard. You good?”
Kiri comes to stand in front of you, leaving him vulnerable. He can’t see your smirk until it’s too late. You wail on him, using some of the basic combos he’s taught you before today. Satisfaction rolls through you when he actually takes a step back. But then he puts his arms up in front of him, clenching his abdomen and bending inward to protect his core. He drops just a fraction and before you realize what’s happening, he’s swiping his leg out to push through yours. You watch in slow motion as you see his laughing face then the ceiling of the gym as you flip and land on your back.
If you thought you were out of breath before… “Fuuu-.” It’s a wheeze that feels like it’s ripping your chest open. You’re seeing stars. Kiri stands over you, hands on his hips again. You stare at his face; the hero has his hair pulled back into a bun. You snort, rolling your eyes. Why does he still look so fucking good? The sweat has caused some of the pieces falling out of his hair tie to curl. His hair has curl to it? You’ve never noticed before, considering he always gels it into spikes. You like the curl. “Are you--are you gonna help me up, or what?” It was still painful to talk.
Kiri tilts his head to the side, just slightly, and crosses his arms. “I’m thinking not. Last time I let down my guard you got those good combos in.” You stare in stunned silence, sitting up so you’re supported by your elbows. Kiri shifts slightly and if you didn’t know better, you’d say he’s backing up to… get a better view.
“Is that any way to treat your student, Red Riot?” You know you get under his skin when he clicks his tongue against his teeth and holds out a hand with a begrudging eye roll. He pulls you up with ease, quickly enough that you almost lose your balance, swaying into his space. You look up, eyes moving back and forth between his.
He draws in a breath and drags his bottom lip between his teeth. “First of all,” he says as he places his hands on your upper arms, “I’m not your teacher. I’m not that much older than you. Secondly,” he mutters as he tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear, “our relationship isn’t that formal is it?” He’s so fucking close. This is getting dangerous. Dangerous because Kiri is within kissing distance. Dangerous because this gentle side of him is making you lose more breath than falling on your ass. Dangerous because the thought of Kiri taking you on the floor right now is almost too much to bear.
So you fall back on what you’re here to do. Fight. You flash him a wicked smile before rallying your quirk and teleporting a few feet away. His hand is still raised in mid-air and when his head whips to look in your direction, his crimson eyes are narrowed and his nostrils are flared. He laughs and rolls his neck, dancing on his toes.
“Okay. I see. I’m not gonna go easy on you, you know?” You snort and put your fists up in front of you again.
“As if you were going easy on me before, Kiri. Bring it on.” He smiles, the sharp points of his teeth enough to make your thoughts swerve again before you bring them under control. “Bring it on,” you whisper more to yourself as you brace for the fight.
Two hours later, you feel the strain in your muscles. Your quirk is running low on reserves and you know you won’t be able to use it much more. Kiri looks like he hasn’t wasted a breath but you can see he’s getting tired in the way his feet don’t move as sharply. And if the length of time he’s using his quirk is any indication to his state of mind, you know the two of you will be calling it a day soon. But you’re also both stubborn. And you’re dying to get one more good move in on him.
The cockiness the two of you had at the beginning of the sparring session hasn’t gone away but has burned hot into determination. No more smiles, only clear-headed concentration. The two of you are an arm's length from each other, throwing various punches and switching quickly between using your quirks and not. You’re breathing hard, sweat gathering at your brow as you throw another right hook that Kiri easily blocks.
“Get out of your head. You can be too predictable sometimes.” He doesn’t mean for it to come across as rude but the words strike a match to a guttering fire. You bare your own teeth at Kiri even though they aren’t sharp and probably don’t look nearly as threatening but it helps you feel powerful nonetheless. You drop without a second thought, lowering to your palms and sweeping your leg out in front of you in a wide arc. A grin spreads across your face when your calf meets Kiri’s ankle. He’s too physically dense for this move to work if he had seen it coming. But he doesn’t. And his solid 220 pounds of muscle falls hard.
You allow yourself the satisfaction of the moment for only a split second; Kiri’s recovery time is much shorter than yours so it isn’t long before he’s scrambling forward. He goes straight for your wrists to subdue you but with a smirk, you realize in his haste he’s put himself in the perfect position for you to possibly gain the upper hand. You scoot up away from him just enough to drag his arm forward and swing your legs around his neck. Then you elevate your hips and lock your core.
It’s over from there as you squeeze with every last ounce of strength left in your body. It doesn’t take long for him to tap out. You release as soon as you feel his loose hand tap your arm; he collapses over you and you’re too tired to move away or push him off. Now his breathing is rough and you feel a surge of pride. You reach up and place your hand on his head where his bun has come undone; he’s so heavy but it doesn’t feel bad. In fact, the feel of Kirishima resting his head and upper chest on your stomach is feeling nothing short of good . He’s still between your legs and suddenly the air is crackling with a new kind of energy when you gently comb your fingers through his hair.
He rises up, his hands on either side of you. His hips rest between your legs; the mingled heat radiating from both of you is almost more than you can take but there is no way you’re going to move anywhere. He leans forward, so close you can see the flecks of burnt orange in his eyes. If you moved forward just a little, you could close that space between you. He leans down more, his mouth right next to the shell of your ear.
“Maybe not always predictable. You did good today. Probably some of the best fighting I’ve seen from you so far. Keep it up.” He grunts, a shift of his hips allowing the curve of his cock to brush against your clothed sex through his gym shorts. He stiffens in what you think might be embarrassment. “Shit, sorry, let me just, uh--” The stuttering mess he becomes right before your eyes makes something lurch in your chest; you reach for his face without thinking.
“Kiri,” you whisper, rolling your own hips against his. His cheeks are burning a shade of red almost as vibrant as his hair. You bring up your other hand, holding his face between them and bringing him down to settle over you once more. Your lips meet his; he seems to war with himself for just a moment. A suspended second in time. But then he gives in, slipping his tongue against yours in a delicious sliding vision of what’s coming.
He reaches between you to slip his hand under your tank top; his hand is big and nearly encompasses your side. But it’s warm and gentle. Gentle. Who would have guessed that Red Riot could be so fucking gentle? But he is and when his hand moves lower to slide below the hem of your shorts, you give yourself to him with no reservations. His middle finger passes through the mess of your sex; a hissed breath rattles through his chest as your back arches on a ragged groan.
“ Shit. You’re so wet .” He slides his finger back and forth, gathering your slick on the thick digit. He takes his hand away and you mewl. “Can I?” He asks breathlessly as he hooks his hands on the hem of your shorts. You nod, eyes half-lidded. He pulls them down along with your underwear and the way he looks at you, at what’s between your legs, you don’t even have the wherewithal to feel self-conscious. Adoration. It’s the only word you can think of and it makes you wonder if you’d made a mistake waiting so long.
He’s on his knees when he takes your legs and drapes them on either side of his hips; this time he doesn’t hesitate in slipping his finger into your cunt. You nearly see stars just from that and if one finger is any indication, you’re in for it. Slowly, he adds another, his hand pumping into you in a steady rhythm. You’re grabbing for the ground, grabbing for him as a strangled noise pushes from your throat. He reaches out with his other hand to splay it across your sternum and it’s the only thing anchoring you as he adds the third finger before scooting down to put his mouth on your clit.
“ Kiri,” you keen, shoving your hips into his touch, frantically scrabbling for his wrist that’s on your chest just to have something to hold on to. He’s done this before, he’s had to. He’s too good. Too fucking good. Already there’s coiling in your gut as incomprehensible words tumble from your mouth. “Shit. Shit. Kiri I’m--I’m gonna--” He rumbles approvingly against your clit; the vibrations send you closer and closer to the edge and when it crests, your back arches near pain as you cry out, your voice echoing in the gym. It’s deep, roaring through all of your limbs but Kiri keeps going, fingers still pumping, tongue still swirling around your sensitive nub.
Another orgasm breaks over you sharp and quick and the overstimulation has your legs quaking as your arousal gushes over Kiri’s hand and tongue. But then he’s moving again, and you’re blearily aware that he’s shoving his own shorts and boxers past his hips to free his cock. You stare as it bounces back to sit near the planes of his stomach; it’s already leaking steadily with precum. Kiri looks back at you and when your eyes meet, you dart your tongue out between your lips to wet them. Another time, maybe.
Kiri leans forward to lift you up and the closer you get you can barely see any red in his eyes; his pupils are blown, his nostrils flared as he lifts you like you weigh nothing . He could snap you like a twig. But he won’t. You know without a doubt this is the safest you’ve ever felt, even as he lowers you slowly over his cock and it does feel like you’re being split .
“ Fuuuck…” You wrap your legs around him, your mouth dropped open, your hands gripping his shoulders. You try not to dig your nails in but it’s almost impossible with how you’re being filled. You knew Kiri was big but this was almost too much. His forehead drops to yours as he pants. But he’s not moving, won’t move until you tell him to. It makes your heart ache and your cunt floods, drunk on the affection thrumming through your veins. You roll your hips experimentally and the friction is bliss. “Oh fuck, ohfuck.” You move again, pushing yourself up and back down, listening to the hitch in his breathing. “ Kiri, please, ” you whisper. Those words… they’re enough.
Kirishima grips you by the hips, his fingers splayed and digging into the flesh; it’ll leave bruises and the knowledge cracks through you like electricity. Let him leave marks. Let him leave them everywhere. He’s moving you up and down his cock, grunting, mumbling. “Tell me, Kiri, tell me.” His eyes meet yours again and his own mouth drops open.
“Fuck, you’re so good. S’ tight. Jesus, I-- ” Kiri moves his hands from your hips to support you as he lays you down on the floor of the gym. The idea should be questionable but it’s not, it’s fucking not and you can’t concentrate on any other thoughts when Kiri grabs your wrists and pins them gently above your head with one hand while the other comes back to your hip. He thrusts into you at a brutal pace but… it feels like home and you think in that moment as your cunt begins to seize around his cock that you would give up forever to continue touching him.
“Yes, Kiri, yes. Right there, right--shit yesyes yes. ” He pistons up, the veins of his cock rubbing just right and when he releases the grip on your hands, they’re moving to wrap around him on instinct. He’s planting kisses along your jaw, mouthing up to your lips and back down to graze his teeth over your pulse point. “Do it, fuckin’ do it, let them know ‘m yours, ” you slur and when he bites down you crash over the edge on a groan that’s really more of a scream. Everything goes black but you're cradling him to you as his movements become more erratic. The snapping of his hips is getting sloppier by the second and a steady growl punches from his lungs with each breath. “Cum, Kirishima, cum inside me.”
He’s never heard those words before and it lights a fire in his veins. His head is buzzing and then he can’t hear anything as his cock releases and he’s spurting searing hot ropes of cum into your cunt. He goes until you’ve milked every last drop from him and he’d be lying if he said his world didn't suddenly feel whole. Finally, his body settles and his chest drops to yours. Everything slowly bleeds back into focus and somehow, everything seems more colorful than it did moments before. You’re still clinging to him.
“Kiri. Kiri, babe, I can’t breathe,” you say and he slowly rises, taking in your blissed-out expression. Your eyes can barely stay open, your cheeks are flushed. He backs up to see his handiwork on display, hyper-focused on the trail of the mingling cum dripping from the mess of your sex. But you’re smiling. Lazy and tired, completely at ease. “Wanna take a shower?” When you nod he doesn’t hesitate in standing to kick his underwear and shorts the rest of the way off his legs and then he’s grabbing you, scooping you into his arms and against his chest. He pads out of the gym and across the hall to his bathroom where he deposits you on your feet, only after he’s sure you can stand and only long enough to turn the shower head-on.
He puts his hand under the water, waiting for it to get warm. Steam billows from behind the glass door when he’s turning back to you to remove your tank top and your sports bra. Thank god you chose the front-closure one today; you didn’t think either one of you wanted to struggle to get one up over your head right now. When your breasts spill out of the high-impact fabric, you notice with tender amusement that his cock is half-hard again. His eyes go dark again and he leans in for a kiss. But it's slow and sweet.
"You're so fuckin' beautiful," he whispers. He ignores his arousal, ushering you into the stream of water. Your care is the only thing that matters to him right now. The heat slides across your body, and when Kirishima steps up behind you and begins soaping up your shoulders, it feels like heaven .
You take turns washing each other until you’re both blissed out in a different kind of way and the only thing either one of you can think about is sleep. But the afterglow is fading and doubt is creeping in. When you step out of the water, you stand awkwardly as Kiri hands you a towel. “You okay?” He’s actually concerned and you can’t put your finger on why you’re so fucking grateful for it.
“Yea, just tired. I should, uh, probably get going.” Kiri freezes and you think you’ve said something wrong, already crossed a line. Your brain is like a broken record as the stomach-curdling image of having to see him at the agency flashes across your eyes in vivid detail. But then he’s stepping into your space and pulling you in for a hug. A hug.
“Don’t go,” he whispers into the crown of your head and it has you smiling like an idiot against his chest. His skin smells clean and warm with a hint of spice. You bury your face further in as you nod against him. Then he’s leading you to his room, to the king-sized bed. He peels back the comforter and the white sheets and pulls you in beside him. Your back is against him and he hooks his foot around your ankles, bringing you even closer.
He doesn’t say anything more, just lets out a huge sigh as he wraps his arm around you. The last thing you notice before your eyes flutter shut is how your heartbeats are thumping at the same steady rhythm.
Late afternoon sunlight slants in Kirishima’s bedroom window, creating interesting patterns across his blanket. It’s pushed towards the end of the bed, your legs intertwined and tangled in the sheets. He’s still dozing, his breathing not quite that of someone sleeping but not of a person fully awake. You reach out to cup his cheek, stroke above his eyebrows, caress his lips with your thumb. A contented sigh leaves his chest as he grabs your hand and kisses your wrist. His eyes are open now and he watches you. You smile at him, snuggling closer, not wanting the moment to end.
“Hey,” he says quietly, suddenly serious. “I just want you to know, I don’t do this all the time. I mean, I’ve been with other people before but I don’t… I don’t really hook up .” Things start clicking into place as you realize what he’s trying to get across. He just fucked you stupid in his personal gym and somehow he looks bashful. And because you love it, you’re not going to help him along. You just watch, biting your lip to keep from giggling. “I just. I guess what I’m trying to say is I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time. And normally I would have wined and dined you first but... Well. Here we are. Would you like to stay for dinner?”
That’s the last straw; your laughter comes bubbling out of you and Kiri is leaning back to look at you with a quizzical expression on his face. “Is something funny?” That just makes you laugh a little harder but the confused look he’s wearing has you leaning in to press your lips against his.
“I’ve liked you from the first day I met you, Kiri. I’ll one-up your offer and tell you that I might like to stay forever.” A grin rips across his face and your heart blooms with warmth and affection. The world seems full of possibilities but none of them matter except for the possibility laying right in front of you.
#kirishima x reader#kirishima eijiro x reader#kirishima eijirou x reader#kirishima eijiro#kirishima eijirou#pro hero kirishima#red riot#kirishima smut#bnha#mha#boku no hero academia#my hero academia#kaitsuki writes#oh my god i had such brain block#writing this one#because i get too in my head writing smut#BUT i hope everyone still enjoys#we stan kiri in this house
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looking for love.
[ read devil in a new suit ]
pairing. jjk x f!reader. rating. general. tags. none. kook’s just real cute, as per usual. wc. 1.5k. author note. @lcksndkys requested this and also, i just reaaaally wanted to make an edit showing kook’s tinder. lmao.
“Isn’t Tinder for, y’know, hookups?”
The question comes casual, innocent, with that round stare that always catches you off guard. If it were anyone else, you’d probably tear into him - berate him for his dated ideas of love.
Instead, you quirk a brow and roll your eyes, tossing a wayward crumb at him. Your companion huffs, indignant and yet still soft, mouth curling into the pout he always does when he’s embarrassed or put-off. Tattooed hands sweep across the front of his shirt, plucking the lint away to return the fabric to immaculate neatness.
“Is there something wrong with hookups, Jungkookie?” You’re daring him to voice his opinion, surprise you with whatever antiquated reasoning he has.
But of course, because he’s Jungkook, he’s too tender, too nice. His brow furrows, fingers knotting together as he finds his words. “I just— I just don’t want to give anyone the wrong idea.” Broad shoulders roll, dislodge the lime cotton of his plaid from the mountainous frame of his body. When he speaks, he won’t quite meet your stare - of course - opting instead to focus on the lacquered wood grain of his coffee table. “Don’t want anyone getting hurt.”
It’s not what you’d expected - the farthest thing from the usual slut-shaming you tend to hear - but you’re not surprised. Can’t be, honestly.
“Baby.”
Jungkook’s head snaps up, big doe eyes bouncing to yours with a mixture of aghast and confusion. You’ve never used a pet name with him. You’ve barely been friends for a month. He’s about to rebuff you - or ask or dp something - when you cut him off.
“As in, you’re being a baby.”
You do take a little pride in how his expression breaks apart, crashes into a barricade of your words. He’s just so easy to tease, makes you laugh full-belly and unabashed when his ears tip red and the same colour ascends up the column of his throat.
(It’s always very cute, reminiscent of schoolyard teasing between friends. You’re careful never to dig too deeply, though. You don’t want any scars left behind, no gravel when he slips and falls.)
“I’m just being—”
“A baby.”
He huffs, scoffs, makes a bunch of noise that doesn’t amount to very much. Then he slips his phone out of his pocket and sets it between you, laid on the glass top of his coffee table. An offering - or a reluctant acceptance, if his expression is anything to go by.
“Fine. Go ahead.” Even as he speaks, it takes a moment for his hand to retract, fist itself back between his crossed legs.
“Passcode,” you prompt, tapping the screen with a neatly manicured nail.
He enters it. 0127. (A date?) As if he can read your mind: “It’s my mom’s birthday.” Of course it is.
You only shake your head, laughing sweetly. “Very on brand.” You don’t mean it harshly. Family’s important to you, and if his standing Sunday meals with his own are any indication, they are to him too.
“We’ll start with Tinder and see how that goes. I think you might have better luck on Bumble but…” It’s a sideways glance, peeked out from beneath the cascading curtain of hair that falls over your shoulder. You’re so shy is what you don’t say. You don’t want to discourage him when it’s taken you an entire month to get him to accept your help in the first place.
“But I’m a baby?” Luckily, Jungkook’s a good sport. (You’ve learnt that over the weeks. Sandwiched in between his bashfulness and his bunny smile, there’s a warmth he never seems to tamper down. That he has no interest in changing. You envy him that, at least a little bit.)
Rather than answer, you shrug, apologetic smile forming tiny and private across your lips.
He, for all his differences from you, gets what you mean. He doesn’t hold it against you.
“Okay, so—” You scoot closer - the edge of your baby toe brushes the soft soft soft material of his trousers - and you extend the phone between you. “You need to choose some photos you like. I’m not going to do it for you but I’ll help you narrow them down.”
You have a feeling he’ll need the help but you don’t necessarily want to force your own preferences on him. Compromise seems important when navigating the whole signing-your-friend-up-for-a-dating-app thing.
“Just any photos?” The iPhone looks so much smaller in his hands, thumb swiping through his photo library. (You can already tell you’re going to disagree on which pictures go up. Can feel it in your bones, tingling the tips of your fingers.)
“Yep. Just any.” You do your best not to backseat pick, leaning away from him as he continues with his selections. He’s already picked six of them. (Six? Six?! Who does he think he is— Brad Pitt?)
“Here.”
All at once, the device is back in your hands or rather, tossed in your lap. Less ceremonious than usual, decidedly more nervous. You want to tease him for this, too, but don’t. Bite back the mockery and swallow it down, focusing instead on the profile that glares back up at you.
Okay, so, not awful choices. There are at least two you insist upon: one with his tattoos on display and another in a pool. Both thirst traps in their own regard.
“I really like this—” You’re moving the photo to the first spot. “You look really good and it’s a clear photo, so no one’s going to think you’re catfishing.”
Jungkook blinks - channels Bambi the baby deer - and cocks his head. “Do people actually do that?”
You don’t mean to sound so exasperated. Really, you don’t. He’s just so… him. “All the time. Or they use really edited photos. Ones you can’t really see their faces in.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, exactly.” You almost pat him on the head. “Let’s use this one too.”
His response is immediate, as is the colour that presents itself across his neck, up over the apples of his cheeks. “I’d rather not.”
“Why’d you pick it then?”
“W-well—” You don't know how honest he’s being, whether he really doesn’t want to use it or if he’s afraid of being that guy. You’d bet good money it’s the latter. “Just—” You’re staring at him and he can’t look away. You can see how badly he wants to by how hard he’s biting his cheek, hollow formed by the motion. “Can we please pick something else?”
You relent with a huff, removing the pool photo from the running. “Fine.”
He’s trying to fix you with that awkward smile of his but you steadfastly ignore him. (He does it often, any time you have any sort of disagreement. It’s utterly unfair how well it works on you when you’d much rather just continue to give him a hard time.)
“Okay, what’s with all the group photos?” You count at least three and while he, admittedly, looks really good, it seems like overkill. “We’re trying to find you a girlfriend, not your friends.”
The poor boy’s perplexed, brow furrowing. “But they’re my friends.”
“And?”
“They’re a part of my life?”
“Okay and?”
“Can you stop doing that?”
“No.”
You’re both glaring at each other. It’s like siblings bickering (or an old married couple).
“You can keep one.” You’re being lenient, you think. “You don’t want to detract from you just so you can include your friends.” (And also, like, who cares. As a former Tinder user, one of your biggest pet peeves had been people who messaged you about your friends.)
“Fine.” Of course, he’s pouting. You don’t care.
“Let’s go with these three.” The screen is tilted toward him - not offered enough that he can snatch it away - but so he can see. You’re running this show, after all.
“Deal.”
“Wait, are these from the same day? That’s kind of—”
Jungkook wails a noise you’ve never heard before, equal parts faux frustration and amused desperation. It screws up his nose and makes little crow’s feet appear at the corners of his eyes. “Stoooop, please.”
Now it’s your turn to huff.
“What else do I need?”
“A bio.”
The last thing you expect is for him to pull his phone from your grasp, as if he’s been waiting for this moment all afternoon. (Maybe he really had wanted to join Tinder? Had you been hoodwinked? Bamboozled? Had Jeon Jungkook played you like a fiddle?)
Something like disbelief colours your expression when he presents his cool new bio to you, the absolute dumbest smile on his face. Reading it flips your features and rearranges them into a mask of shock. (That and disdain. It’s not a bad bio, per se, but it’s—
Well, it does fit Jungkook. You can’t deny that.)
“Nice guy with nice dreams it is.”
tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi @codeinebelle
#goldenclosetnet#magicshopnet#ficswithluv#thebtswritersclub#networkbangtan#heartsforbts#bts#bts au#bts imagine#bts drabble#bts fluff#bts scenarios#bts jungkook#jungkook#jeon jeongguk#jeon jungkook#jungkook au#jungkook imagine#jungkook drabble#jungkook fluff#jungkook scenarios#jungkook x oc#jungkook x you#jungkook x reader#work.zip#drabble.zip#devil.doc#jungkook.doc
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prompt: (muggle au or harry never went to hogwarts au) ginny introduces her boyfriend harry to her family
Thanks for sending this!! I legit dont know how this became this long i thought it’d be much shorter lmao but here ya go! I went with Muggle AU
She leaned over and planted a kiss on his clean-shaven cheek. “Ready?” she asked, but did not wait for an answer as she pushed her door open, hopped out onto the street, pushing the car door shut behind her with her hip. She walked around the front of the car and waited for him to get out of the driver’s seat. But he hadn’t moved; his hands were still on the bottom of the wheel.
She knocked on his window. “Uh, Harry? You’re still buckled in, love.”
He nodded, taking his seatbelt off, and leaned over to grab the flowers behind the passenger’s side. He finally opened the car door and stepped out slowly.
Ginny giggled as she shut the door for him, before turning to straighten his collar and run a hand through his hair. “They’re all going to love you,” she soothed him.
“Everything you’ve ever told me contradicts that.”
“Mum and Dad will, at least,” she assured him. “Fred, George, and Ron…well, they’re another story.”
“That’s who I’m worried about!”
“I can handle them if they act up, so don’t. And besides, as I told you before, at least you won’t have to worry about Bill. Just his wife, Phlegm.”
Harry smiled just the slightest. “Can you remind me her real name again, please? So I don’t accidentally call her that to her face?”
Ginny laughed. “I wish you would. But it’s Fleur. And just remember-“
“-don’t mention Percy,” he finished. “But bring up how I wish I could meet Charlie, who’s in Romania, who was offered a position for Chelsea but turned it down.”
“See? You’re gonna knock ‘em dead.” She took his free hand and dragged him towards the door.
“Pretty sure that’s what they’re going to do to me,” he muttered, but she ignored him. They reached their destination and Ginny pushed the door open.
As they walked in, they could hear Mrs. Weasley scrambling over to them excitedly. She hugged Harry immediately, telling him how happy she was to finally meet him and thanked him for the flowers. She took them from him and let him know how soon dinner would be ready, and that they just needed to wait for Mr. Weasley to return from work, and led him toward the sitting room. There, he saw an assembly line of tall, redheaded men, and one very pretty woman attached to one of them. Bill and his wife introduced themselves kindly before going to help Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen. Then he turned to face the rest of them.
From everything Ginny had said about the way her brothers would badger her about her dating life in high school, he assumed they’d be standing there with fists and jaws clenched. To Harry’s pleasant surprise, they all seemed eager to shake his hand and greet him; well, at least Fred and George were, whereas Ron seemed a bit nervous.
Harry, who felt prepared, mentioned how he wished he could meet Charlie. But then the conversation quickly turned to football and Liverpool and everything they ever wanted to know about him, Harry Potter, the youngest player to ever be recruited to the Premier League.
After a few minutes of answering their questions on the couch, Harry turned to Ginny with a suspicious look. “Did you put them up to this?”
“Of course not,” she scoffed. “They’re fans. Can you blame them?”
“Right, but I didn’t realize just how much. Why-”
“Because,” Fred interjected, a note of amusement in his voice, “she didn’t wanna blow her cover. Did you, sis?”
“No clue what you’re talking about,” said Ginny, her eyes throwing daggers at Fred.
“We’re a big football family,” George informed Harry. “We all played in school. Ginny, too.”
“She was captain of the girls’ team,” Fred added.
Ginny rolled her eyes. “He knows that already.”
“Yeah,” Harry echoed, still feeling a bit perplexed. “It was a big bonding point for us.”
“Ah, yes,” George sighed. “But she must have neglected to tell you that she was practically the president of the Harry Potter fan club for a year before you lot met; rallied us all in.”
There was a long pause. Harry turned to his girlfriend, who avoided his eyes, picking lint from her pants. “Not literally,” she murmured.
Then Ron finally spoke. “No, just the top poster on the Harry Potter subreddit.”
Harry’s jaw dropped as her brothers roared with laughter. He looked at Ginny, and he had never seen her look so mortified. He wanted to ask more questions, but he didn’t want to embarrass her in front of her brothers.
However, he didn’t have to. Ginny took matters into her own hands, grabbing Harry and dragging him away from the scene while saying, “Excuse us,” to her brothers as passive-aggressively as she could. She led him up one flight of steps wordlessly, and then let go of his arm, gestured for him to walk into her room, and once he did she followed, kicking the door closed behind her.
“Look,” she turned to him, and her face was so brightly flushed that it almost matched her hair. “Yes, I was a huge fan. Yes, I spent an inordinate amount of time on the Harry Potter subreddit watching interviews and highlights and occasionally swooning over your eyes, sue me. But I don’t want you to think I was a stalker or anything. I would never have tried to invade your privacy like that.”
“You sure that when we met at the pub you hadn’t tailed me there?” he asked playfully.
“Cross my heart,” she swore. “It was just some god up there looking out for me and by happenstance having me be at The Cauldron the same moment in time as my celebrity crush. And besides, you came up to me!”
“For president of my fan club, you played it pretty cool,” he smiled, putting his arms around her waist.
Ginny laughed, sounding almost nervous. “I was dying inside. Absolutely dying. I couldn’t believe my fate.”
“Had you really not even noticed I was there until I came up to you asking if you were saving the seat next to you?” When she shook her head he asked, “What if you had? Would you have come up to me?”
“I definitely would have. And I wouldn’t have played it as cool, either. You probably wouldn’t have fallen in love with me had things played out that way.”
“Of course I would,” he assured her, kissing her forehead. “But why did you never tell me?”
“I mean, I did tell you my brothers and I were fans. I just…downplayed the extent of it.”
“Are you still my biggest fan?” he asked, smiling brightly.
She smiled back, pushing herself up to kiss him on the mouth. “Even more so, now.”
“Did I live up to your expectations?”
“Surpassed them.” He leaned in to kiss her again, and she wrapped her arms behind his neck. “You’re not totally freaked out?” she asked cautiously.
Harry laughed. “No. Makes me feel even more special to you. Makes you more special to me.” And he meant it.
Ginny sighed happily, melting into him. He stroked her hair as he held her, feeling utterly content with her in his arms, his heart swelling as she whispered, “I love you. And not just because you’re a super fit and successful football player. I’m just lucky that you’re those things and as wonderful as you are on your own.”
Harry chuckled. “I love you too,” he declared. After a few long, lovely moments of holding each other, Ginny nudged her head against Harry’s, adjusting them so she could kiss him. Harry kissed her back, his hands roaming up and down her body until Ginny began to giggle against him, pushing him away. “Harry, we’re at my parents’ house.”
He cleared his throat, trying to come back to his senses. “Sorry. Forgot myself a bit there.”
“It was lovely,” she told him, taking his hands and pulling him back to her. “Normally I’d never request for you to keep your hands to yourself. But my dad’s going to be home any second for dinner…save it for dessert at yours, okay?”
“Yes ma’am,” he agreed, wiggling his eyebrows, and at that moment they heard Mr. Weasley walking in through the front door.
“Suppose I’m psychic,” Ginny intertwined her fingers with his and used her free hand to reach for the door. “Well, c’mon, I know Dad is excited to meet you and Mom is excited to feed you. And the boys didn’t interrogate you about whether you’re going to break my heart, or try to pretend like I’m still a child and have never so much as snogged anyone, or-“
“And what exactly were you two doing up there, hmm?” Fred interrupted as they met him and George, sharing twin smirks, at the foot of the stairs.
Ginny groaned. “Spoke too soon.”
anyone else reading, send more Hinny or Jily drabble prompts if you’d like!
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Gerry and Gerty’s funeral home caper lmao
There is something perilously easy about Gertrude’s professional usage of her tools, Gerard included. Let him just say that it’s lucky he never got into the habit of calling Mary ‘Mum,’ or he would have accidentally done the same to Gertrude. As much as he likes Gertrude he is aware of how dangerous it would be to let her know how he feels about her—that he feels, even. Every other person she has ever worked with has been disposable, and Gerard isn’t about to add himself to that list for the crime of being inconveniently emotional.
They’re in Los Angeles at the moment, for once relaxing while they wait for one of their Hunters to break cover. Gerard is generally wary of any place with too many approaches, but it’s pretty funny to see Gertrude trying to blend in with normal people out for a holiday. She’s sitting on a beach towel with her sleeves rolled up as a small concession to the heat. Reading, of course, a war history with the battlers’ miniscule eyes carefully excised from the cover; she rolls a scalpel absently between her fingers, ready for the moment when she turns the page to find another illustration. The towel, pink and orange and bought by Gerard expressly to look ridiculous, is already littered with tiny diamonds of paper. All carefully turned blank-side-up.
For his part Gerard is taking the opportunity to meet the ocean. Just at its edge it holds little of the Vast about it, so he stands watching little waves wash over the eyes that watch over his ankles, slightly hypnotized. It’s a bit kiddish of him, but he has no interest in staying inside Gertrude’s personal space bubble, which today is roughly two meters in diameter. He could be looking for shells, but he wants to not be looking for anything for a little while.
Still, every so often (carefully timed to minimize strain) he looks through the lens of himself at the taquería where their Hunter is lingering over lunch. This is his part, as Gertrude actively avoids using or even receiving gifts from the Eye—Gerard has long learned that beggars can’t be choosers—but his gut burns with the desire to avoid disappointing her. Yes, even though he recognizes that he shouldn’t care, that it’s dangerous for him to care. He tells himself not to and then does anyway, damn her. Damn her for being just slightly more like a proper mother or even a proper friend. Actively cutting out his feelings like paper eyes is exhausting, but at least it’s a convenient reminder to distrust her.
Ah. There. He sloshes out of the shallows and back toward the towel, where he starts rubbing the sand off his feet so he can put his boots back on.
Gertrude looks up over the top of her book. “She’s moving, then?”
“Yeah. Looked like she was just heading up that big street there.”
Gertrude rises like a wading bird, brushing a few stray eyes off her blouse, and snaps her book shut. Gerard hastily does up the laces on his boot and follows. “Leave the towel,” she says as if she knows he was about to pick it up and start folding it. “Heaven knows we have no use for it.”
“That was ten dollars,” he says mildly. Mostly he’s just peeved he won’t get to see her sitting on it again.
“Time is worth far more than money,” she says. Right, he thinks as she starts toward the road with strides as long as her short legs can manage. That’s why we’ve been hanging out at the seaside for two hours. Gertrude is probably never going to admit that she very occasionally enjoys ‘relaxing.’
He catches up to her in a few steps. “Does that mean you’ll pay me back for the towel, then?”
“I paid for your tickets to this country.”
“Fair enough. Oh, hang on, she’s turned. This way.”
They follow the Hunter a little over a mile, by which time both of them are sweating through their shirts. Gerard may slightly regret his pride in refusing to wear anything but black jeans, but he’d no more admit it than Gertrude would admit she regrets wearing long sleeves. There’s something unfortunately kind of charming in the fact that she won’t stop dressing like an Archivist even while on the hunt. It’s integrated into her personality—oh, hang on, that’s not charming, that’s worrying.
Gerard does not like the Archivist anywhere near as much as he likes Gertrude Robinson.
“She’s gone into… a funeral home. Bit odd for a Hunter. But I know what I Saw,” he assures Gertrude.
“Hm,” she says. “We’re going to wash our faces and have some lunch.”
Gerard doesn’t ask any questions. He’ll understand why in a bit, and he is very hungry. They stop in at some kind of health food place a couple buildings down. Gertrude has an unfortunate liking for salads—at least, unfortunate for Gerard, who never quite made it to whatever social class you’ve got to be to actually enjoy eating quinoa. He gets a salad with both chicken and bacon, which is the best he can do, and slowly freezes in the air conditioning in his damp clothing.
“I’m sure you can guess the plan, as this isn’t the first funeral home we’ve infiltrated,” Gertrude tells him. He nods. “Is the Hunter still inside?”
He pauses his chewing and focuses inward. “Difficult to tell. She’s inside a building, at least. In what looks like an office, talking to a man in business formal. He’s not afraid of her.” He hisses through his teeth and lets it go. “That’s it. My head is done with Seeing for today. Would it kill you to learn this too?”
“Possibly,” she says coldly. They don’t speak for the rest of lunch, leaving Gerard to wonder whether she expects it to kill him, or worse. Still disposable, but sturdy at least, he thinks sourly. Gertrude doesn’t speak, in fact, until they enter the funeral home and the director or secretary or something comes and greets them. Then she says, with just enough of an edge of bitter tiredness,
“Comparison shopping. I’m sure you of all people know a funeral has to be perfect.”
The woman’s eyes flick from Gertrude to Gerard. “Your husband?”
“Yes. Heart attack.”
She smiles sympathetically at both of them but especially at Gerard, who’s hanging back looking uncomfortable and glancing around at everything. A pity his head is splitting open, or he’d be able to tell from this distance exactly where the Hunter is. Gertrude asks for a tour so she can wave him around like a lint roller picking up signs of the Hunter’s passing through. And the Hunter has been here, recently. Gerard leans against the walls in a corner between two tall potted plants while Gertrude spins some bullshit about immigrating for a professorship at UCLA. He lets his eyes close and leans his head back tiredly, trying to feel through the walls and through his headache. The Hunter is almost certainly still here.
“Thomas,” snaps Gertrude, and he jolts back to attention. “Don’t lurk in corners.”
He pushes off and slouches toward her. “Would you relax, Mum? He’s not gonna get any deader from me not paying attention. It’s peaceful here. I think he’d like it.” She shoots him a tired, irritated look, and he shoves his hands back in his pockets. “I can just see him being here, is all.” Her eyebrows do the little message-received twitch, and she turns back to the director to start making arrangements. She’ll stall as long as she can; he wanders off to inspect a couple of promising doors.
This turns out to be a mistake, though he doesn’t realize it until halfway through picking a lock he hears a thump in the front room. He pauses just long enough to hear another one before he sprints back out to find Gertrude losing a wrestling match over a baseball bat with the funeral director.
“Hey! What are you doing!” he yells. The director kicks Gertrude in the chest, sending her flying into the wall, and turns toward him. “She’s frail, Mum is!” The director is just confused enough (and small enough) that he can bowl her over and take the bat. He goes for a blow on the back of the neck, harder to misjudge than the temple, and she slumps to the floor.
He pauses a moment, breathing hard before he drags her into the office by the front desk. Then he comes out and crouches by Gertrude, balancing himself with the bat. “You alive?”
Gertrude groans in response and tries to sit up. “I may have a concussion.”
“Anything else?” She shakes her head carefully and accepts his hand up. “But you’re still in no condition to be hunting Hunters, and I’d rather not either. I’m not exactly a martial arts specialist. Or a baseball player.”
“Hmh,” says Gertrude. “This may be our only opportunity.”
“You make opportunities, Gertrude. That’s precisely what you do. So don’t give me that bullshit.”
“We are running out of time. Let me tell you something, Gerard. The way I create opportunities is by not ignoring them when they are dropped in front of me on a silver platter. This is such an opportunity. And with some ingenuity none of this will prevent us from seizing it. We simply need to disguise our presence.”
He lets her boss him into camouflage while she goes to the nearest convenience store for ice. And then he spends the next five hours tailing the Hunter all over the city, gritting his teeth through his steadily worsening headache every time he loses her. He can’t even be that angry at Gertrude, because she’s right: this is invaluable information they couldn’t have gotten at any other time. They have a comprehensive list of allies, and they’ve confirmed that three powers are allied for this ritual.
No, screw that, he can be mad at her when he stumbles into the motel room two hours past dark and she’s freshly showered and reading her history book. “Tell me what you found,” she says.
He kicks off his boots with so little coordination that he falls onto the bed and just lies there.
“Gerard.”
“Yeah, hi,” he says into the bedspread. “I feel like I got repeatedly hit by a truck. You’re very welcome for doing one hundred per cent of the work.” She waits in frosty, expectant silence until he digs his phone out of his pocket and chucks it at her. “It’s all in my notes. I’ll talk t’you about it in the morning, if I’m alive then.”
Despite how much his head hurts he starts to fall asleep almost instantly. So he’s never quite sure whether he dreams her very quiet “Thank you, Gerard.”
NOTES: You know, I thought for a long time that Gerry didn’t actually have any powers from Beholding, until yesterday when I listened to First Aid again and realized he was somehow using the same knowledge-seeking power Elias has to find out passcodes. I just assume he’s not as good at it. And we do know Gertrude never even learned any other languages… unless of course she was just pretending to keep Michael out of her hair. The point is Gertrude has never demonstrated any Archivist powers so I assume she found it distasteful.
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