#so ye. the question very much does still stand. if your entire fucking body gets obliterated and rebuilt. are. you. still. you?
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"If your entire body is replaced by speedforce are you really the same person you started out as? "
i mean seeing as how skin cells work in the real world I gotta go with "obviously"
I gotta tell ya, if your brain completely dies and then rebuilds itself from scratch then you might wanna go see a doctor. Same for any nerve cell, really.
Cause yeah, skin cells do replace themselves at a very quick rate but your brain? You're stuck with what you got. And, uh, it's arguably the most important part. It's what makes you 'you'.
#you get a set stock of neural precursor cells and your brain builds itself throughout adolescence#once you are out of precursor cells thats it. you get one brain. no take backs#so yeah the Ship of Theseus doesn't really apply to the traditional human body cause your brain definitely doesn't replace itself#youve got major fucking issues if it does. like it'll rework some pathways here and there but hooooo boy that stuff is pretty important#you do not want the brain going offline for renovations#also technically bones don't either. though thats weirder cause they can make new bone growth but you aren't ever losing the old bone cells#cept teeth#and the bones that fuse together#so yeah nerves and bones. you're kinda stuck with them#also high-key pretty sure the heart as well but im too tired to double check that#and gametes in AFAB peeps#so ye. the question very much does still stand. if your entire fucking body gets obliterated and rebuilt. are. you. still. you?
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hello!! ^^ a big fan of your work, and I just had a question!! so ik that heethan is all rlly rough and dominant and that reader actually lowkey digs that, but has there ever been a time where reader genuinely cant take the pain and if so how does heethan react to that? (assuming that eden doesn’t yknow just take over or smth) I was just rlly curious to know!! <33
Thank you!! ❤️ 🥰
Ooooh yes I was asked this a long time ago and I feel the answer still stands, because heethan….hes just…he just loves you entirely too much. lol. Like the other heeleads, hes so obsessed with you that seeing you happy, in pain, or angry, he enjoys seeing every bit of you, so long as he is the one responsible for those reactions. He’ll never truly hurt you, but he will enjoy giving you some pain in the manner of installing pleasure. The other stuff like locking you up, punishing you, or playing mind games that end up mentally hurting you are some things he doesn’t actually enjoy, he just does it because he’s a yandere…a very hard and dangerous one. And it progresses.
He loves seeing you happy more than anything else. That’s top tier for him. BUT….if he had a session where his aggression and dominance truly hurt you….lets say it even makes you bleed and you become scared shitless, I’m telling you right now that the man is going to make you take it. He’ll make you take alllllllll of it and he’s not going to stop even if you scream, beg, bleed, or cower in pain and fear. He’s a very sick and twisted menace of a man who was driven mad all because of your existence, and that’s on both sides. Hell start off finding you adorable and may even coo you with his voice and say comforting words as he’s brutally thrusting…but the more you whine and beg him to stop, you’ll bring out his other side…Ethan. And that’s where it gets very….very harsh noncon. It’s very abrasive and uncomfortable and if I were to go into detail yall might really actually hate him or be scared of him. We all know how Ethan is….
But after all is said and done, when you’re laying there in great pain and feeling so abused and tormented by his actions, the man will be so tender and compassionate, a total 180 from how he was just a moment ago, no matter if he’s Heeseung or Ethan. once hes got his fill and enjoyed you, he’ll be so gentle.
He’ll heal you and give you anything you ask for. That’s the kind of fucked up and tormenting part about him that causes you to be so confused and ignorant of his rough behavior and two toned personality traits. Because you’ll soon forget how bad it hurt when Heeseung’s laying beside you, spooning you from behind and petting your hair while he sweetly kisses your ear, telling you how much he loves you. Or when Ethan walks over to the bathroom and grabs a soft washcloth, warms it up under the water and gently wipes your body down from head to toe, kissing your fingers and your legs as he does so, and telling you how good you were.
So yeah…you’re not going to like it because he’ll hurt you but then will heal you. Lol. It pretty much goes for all heeleads, just each of them have their own way of going about it. Heethan loves pain and pleasure and when you’re in pressing pain in the throes of pleasure, that excites him.
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Do you think five is afraid of dying? Considering his comment about him thinking he'd cheat death too since he had cheated time so often. Or is he just afraid of dying alone?
Hmm... Complicated question. I think Five has an insane drive to survive, he's going to go until he physically can't anymore no matter what, but I don't think he's afraid of dying. I think he's afraid of failing his family by dying.
He's not looking for death, he's definitely wary of it, but he's faced death so often for the entirety of his life (literally every day in the apocalypse could have killed him), I think he's more in a stand-off with it than afraid of it. His line in S2 sums it up well: "the best luck is dying at the right time". And Five has been lucky so far. All his luck in life has been used up on this, the fact that despite everything he's still alive. He knows death is a "when", not an "if", his "when" hasn't come yet, and he's done his best to make sure his "when" is later.
Five has absolutely cheated death - you can look at it as a just a "wow, he survived the apocalypse", but he also very blatantly cheated it when he rewound time at the end of S2. He was dying in the barn. He knew this. His siblings were dead and he was a dead man, too, just doing it slower than they did. That's unacceptable, so he cheated and undid that (pin in this). There's a certain confidence, I think, that comes from surviving so much, a security in being able to look back at everything and say "this didn't kill me, so I'll be able to figure out the next thing that tries, too".
Where this gets more interesting is the second part of your question - is Five just afraid of dying alone? Yes and no. I think Five cares very little how he goes as long as his family is alright. Which is why that above pin is relevant - his family was dead and in the wrong timeline, so Five still had work to do. He could not die yet. I think he would absolutely prefer his death to be far in the future, when he's had time to be with his family and they're all set and happy and old. He does deserve that, too. But if he goes in a messy, painful way far away from them that ultimately gets his siblings safe and where they need to be? That will work for him. Not ideal, not what he'd choose for himself, but what matters is his family is alright. He's been driven by survivor's guilt that his family all died because he time traveled for the past 45 years; that lets him shove a lot of things that should matter a lot more behind his need to finally save them and for them to be Not Dead.
I think that's part of what rattles Five so badly about seeing his Founder self die. I don't think Five has really ever thought about getting old (he basically admits as much in S1, that he's never thought about what comes after he saves his family). He's already 58, and, considering his newly-13-year-old body (and assuming the Commission didn't age him up again), Founder Five is like 150 years old (58 + 87, to account for him aging back up to ~100). For someone who has expected to die almost every day of his life since he was 13, that's a really wild concept to confront. Plus, he's sitting here in a bunker in an organization Five hates and he's alone. His family is nowhere and there's never time to ask Founder Five about his family because they're chasing the Kugelblitz. Five watches himself die there and he doesn't even know if he succeeded on the only thing that's mattered to him for his entire life - if he saved his family. Not only that, but Founder Five tells him to fail and not save his family (the world, but).
I think it's the combo of that that fucks Five up real bad. He has to face his mortality in a way that he hasn't before, in that everything he's done to survive to this point might have been meaningless.
On a much more general level, I also think that watching yourself die would fuck anyone up and make you really consider death in a way you never have before.
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♥ --Work-- [] Bakugou x GN! Reader ♥
♥ 𝘽𝙖𝙠𝙪𝙜𝙤𝙪 𝙓 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ♥
♥ 𝘾𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙜𝙤𝙧𝙮: angst & 𝙁𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛 ♥
♥ 𝙂𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧: 𝙂𝙣! 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙓 𝙈𝙖𝙡𝙚! 𝘽𝙖𝙠𝙪𝙜𝙤𝙪 ♥
•❣•୨୧ "If You don't take care of yourself, I wont let you take care of me." ୨୧•❣•
-- @bakucuddles --
--------------------
Key
"--" Means Y/N is speaking
"--" means Bakugou is speaking
Y/N - Name the character usually calls you (Your Name)
F/N - First name
L/N - Last name
N/N -nickname
Work, Study, Sleep, Classes, Repeat.
This was your everyday life, except the fact that there was much less sleeping involved. It was merely there for the say of it.
"Oh. My. God- DOES X EQUAL 3 OR 3.5?!?!"
You were starting to snap, but unfortunately, it was getting to be a very long process, the act of you breaking down. It felt as if not just your mind, but your entire body was trying to rip itself apart as well while you snapped.
"ARGH-"
the fact that you had a bunch of other homework and midterms coming up didn't help. For some reason, none of the teachers could understand the fact that homework was supposed to be spread out, not crammed together.
Without notice, however, you started seeing everything go blurred. and you hadn't even realized the fact that your lips were trembling either. And suddenly, it hit you.
You were crying.
You tried standing up, but you couldn't even walk over to the corner in your dorm that you usually sat in when you needed comfort, you just fell. No, wrong word,
Collapsed.
Your body was numb, it had gotten used to sitting so much that it was practically only getting the minimum amount of blood required for your body to keep living, nothing more.
...
"Y/N?!"
A gruff, but familiar voice embraced your name, and you felt a warmth lean down, by your shoulder as you were hunched over on the floor.
You squinted up, holding your head, the tears still not going away.
"What's wrong?!?! Why the hell are you- What the fuck??"
You let out a mumble at the question, trying to answer, he didn't hear it, just as you expected.
"What?!"
You kept trying to get it out, but were utterly failing, however, he finally caught the key words.
"Katsu-... Wan'.. go...H-home..."
His eye widened, and he instantly dropped whatever he was holding.
Picking you up, he carried you over to the bed.
---
"Y/N, What the hell was that?!?!"
You flinched, it had been an hour since you collapsed, and you felt better, at least, better enough to respond properly with emotion and be attentive.
"Goddamn it, ANSWER ME!"
You snapped back into reality, yet again. Seeing the expression Katsuki had put on, you realized that he was concerned for you. It wasn't anger, it was just pure concern.
"Y/N. I swear, answer. Me. I am not going to be patient about this. Explain to me why the hell my significant other was laying on the ground crying when I got here??!!!"
You couldn't respond. But for some reason, you did.
"It's so frustrating... It feels like I have no time for anything. Even if I wanted to stay organized, I would have no time to. I-"
You choked, your body didn't want you to continue, it felt like. So, you paused, and let him take over yet again.
"... Okay."
You felt your head be pulled down, slanting your torso frame a slight bit. He had put your head on his chest.
You listened to the sound of his heart beat, rythmic.
Everything was silent until you felt vibrations on his torso, understanding that he was about to talk.
"Cry."
"What-?"
"I said, Cry, Y/N."
Your body started to tremble, quaking at the words themselves. As if someone who didn't know how to do anything but follow orders, you cried. Sobbing, sniffling, choking, quaking. But this time...
... He was here to listen to it all.
--------
@bakucuddles >> ASDFGHJKL- I'm so sorry It took so long! Buttt, tysm for the request-!! (Yes, I am fully aware I asked first- -///-) Aaand, here's the final product!
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kiss it better
pairing: sub!joshua x dom!gn!reader
contains: reader being an actor, reader having a vagina, cunnilingus, service top joshua, kitchen sex, vaginal sex, hair pulling, a creampie bc i said so
a/n: what are you willing to do? ooooh tell me what you’re willing to do? kiss it, kiss it better baby
you come home after harsh training for your upcoming blockbuster movie that, for some reason, involved an ungodly amount of action sequences that you had to prepare for. your entire body hurt but upon seeing your boyfriend cooking something up in the kitchen, it feels like all that pain somehow fades away.
“hi, baby,” you announce your presence seeing as he hadn’t noticed you yet.
his face lights up when he does.
“oh, hi!”
you approach him and lean in for a kiss.
“what are you cooking?” you mutter between kisses as you keep leaning in for more, discovering that it’s particularly hard to stop kissing him right now and he doesn’t seem to mind, letting the utensil he was holding fall to the ground and not bothering to answer your question.
he traps you between the counter and his body as your kisses grow hungrier but when he grabs your waist, you break the kiss by hissing. he immediately removes his hands from your body like your very skin was burning him.
“i’m sorry,” he apologises, though he’s not very sure what he did.
“no, it’s okay. i just busted my ass at training today.”
“oh,” he murmurs, slowly distancing himself from you but you grab his forearms and pull his body flush to yours so your lips are against his ear.
“i never asked you to stop,” you whisper, letting your lips brush against his skin and he inhales sharply, “it hurts so bad.”
“where does it hurt?” he whispers back, like no other person in the world was allowed to listen in on your inappropriate conversation.
“here,” you reply with a faux pout while guiding his hand to your clothed core.
he looks down to verify, playing along with your little game.
“here?” he asks with a concerned look on his face while palming you through your clothes, making your hips twitch.
“yes,” you breathe and wonder when you got so bothered.
“let me take care of it.” he places a last kiss on your lips before sinking down to his knees.
after getting rid of the clothes standing in his way, he leans in to softly kiss your clit then proceeds to give an agonisingly long lick to your folds.
you roughly grab his hair and make him look up at you.
“don’t tease.”
“i was just being gentle.” he gives you a silly smile as the sting of you pulling his hair makes blood rush to his dick.
you push his face back between legs and this time, he seems to have understood the task at hand. he laps up at your folds like a starving man while making sure to give your sensitive bud some attention too. you let your head loll back as you get lost in the feeling of his mouth greedily licking and sucking your throbbing core.
“joshua,” you moan out.
“hm?” he hums back, knowing this would send vibrations in the right places and making you tighten your grip on his hair.
“ah, fuck.”
you can’t help but start to mercilessly grind along his lips and tongue as he tries to keep his head still for you. you gradually speed up your movements as you feel your orgasm start to creep up on you but are abruptly stopped by the thought of being fucked by your boyfriend and how much easier it’d be than doing all the work yourself.
he notices that you’ve stopped and looks up at you with a questioning look.
“babe, are you hard right now?”
he removes his mouth from your cunt entirely to speak and seeing how the bottom half of his face is drenched in his spit and your arousal almost makes you push his head back in. almost.
“so hard,” he exhales but judging the idiotic look on his face, you can tell that you’d have to be more precise for him to understand.
“think you can fuck me right now?”
he instantly stands up and you can now see that he indeed is hard.
“yes.” he catches you staring at his hard on and quickly starts undressing. he lifts you up so you’re sitting on the counter and you grab onto his shoulder for support. he positions his cock in front of your entrance and slowly pushes it in. when he bottoms out, he looks up at you.
“can i move?” he whispers and you take a moment to let yourself adjust then nod.
he starts off slowly, making sure to not grab your sides too hard or go too fast at first to avoid hurting you but gently picks up the pace.
“that’s right, joshua,” you mutter and he moans in response.
all you could hear were both of your frantic noises mixed in with the sound of skin slapping against skin. he was pounding you with everything he had and with his thumb circling your clit, you doubt you were going to last much longer. your hands was fisting the fabric of his shirt as he was biting your shoulder to try to muffle his pathetic moaning, not that you noticed considering how close you were to reaching your high. and out of nowhere, your boyfriend decides to slow down.
“shit, joshua!” you exclaim as you feel your orgasm slip.
“m’sorry,” he slurs and you can tell he was close too, “i was about to cum.” he liked edging himself to make sure you’d finish at the same time but you really weren’t in the mood for that right now.
“then do it- fuck!” he barely gives you the time to finish your sentence before speeding his pace back up. it all happens so fast and before you know it, your orgasm is ripping through your body. you throw your head back as your hips involuntarily twitch and joshua doesn't take long either as you feel him fill you up, his hardness pulsating inside of your walls.
he rides out his high and gradually slows down until he comes to a full stop. you let your body fall back onto the counter and he lets his fall on top of yours, burying his face in the crook of your neck.
“i think your cookies are burning, sweetheart.”
“oh shut up.”
#sub!joshua#sub!seventeen#sub!svt#sub!idol#dom!reader#joshua smut#joshua x reader#seventeen smut#seventeen scenarios
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Whenever You Want
Part Fourteen of the Rough Day Series
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 11.2K
Warnings: Listen there is some dirty smut in this one yall okay like I was blushing when I wrote it, it has a very stark beginning and theres a pagebreak afterwards if you would prefer to skip over it. Smut includes oral sex (female receiving) rough sex, sensory deprivation, butt stuff (ass to mouth, anal fingering/penetration) so PLEASE LOOK OUT FOR IT PLEASE. Also there is jealous/possessive mando in this, season 1 Karga makes another appearance, and some angst/fluff towards the end
A/N: Nothing much today yoditos just love you all
***
Din said he’d meet you here.
You’re currently sitting across from Greef Karga in a cantina on Nevarro, a closed shield next to you and a blaster tucked into the back of your waistband, hidden underneath your shirt. You’re barely even looking at him, though—your eyes are attached to the door by an invisible string, forcing your gaze back to it no matter how much it bounces around the room.
You don’t know where Din is, you haven’t seen him in hours. But you do know that when he left, he was moving slower than you’re used to. You don’t think anyone else would notice, but you sure did. Not that he was obvious about it—you only picked up on very subtle hints. Leaning up against things just a bit more than he usually does. Taking slightly longer exiting the ramp of the Crest than his normal strides would carry him.
He didn’t say what he was going to do—just that he needed to find someone before meeting with Karga, and you accepted it. But truthfully, you didn’t want to. You were worried about him—still are, actually. But for all intents and purposes, he was speaking and acting like himself, showing no real signs of exhaustion other than the smallest instances you described before, so you didn’t really have a leg to stand on. He’s been through way worse, and you know it. You just… find yourself worrying about him so much more than you used to, and you need to learn how to gain some control over that part of you.
The kid was still passed out from healing him and you remember Din carefully setting four pucks down in the sleeping baby’s sphere and giving his ears a gentle rub between leather fingers. He turned back to you and told you to meet him at the cantina in three hours, but if it ended up taking him too long for any reason, to try your best to see if Karga will let you exchange on his behalf.
Admittedly, he didn’t sound too confident about it—the instructions were delivered with a tone that implied a doubtful, just-in-case scenario he wasn’t foreseeing happening. Or maybe he just doubted the likelihood of Karga agreeing to do business with you, you’re not entirely sure. All you know is that when he left, you were almost certain he wouldn’t be late, but you also took the time to grab the smallest blaster from his armory before heading out just in case.
Yet—here you are, three and a half hours later, eyes flicking between the door and Karga as you attempt to keep up polite conversation. After turning down his offer of alcohol for the fifth time and still not seeing any glimpse of beskar coming to your rescue, you figure this may be as good a time as any to start the exchange.
During an extended break in the small talk, you slowly reach over to the corner of your booth and press a button on the face of the kid’s shield. It hisses open and you completely miss the way Karga’s hand raises while three of his guards automatically reach for their hips. The little green monster is still snoozing comfortably while you pull out the four glowing pucks Din left you and set them on the table one by one.
They scrape along the top of it as you slowly push them over to him, before sitting back in the booth and clearing your throat, flicking your eyes between Karga and his guards. To you, nobody appears to have moved, so you muster a polite smile at him.
Karga smiles back, but makes no move to gather or inspect the offerings in front of him.
“Um…” you say after a moment, suddenly feeling your heart start to beat a little faster. “Mando… Mando gave me permission to exchange on his behalf.”
“I believe you,” he drawls out in response, but the pucks still sit untouched in front of him as he leans back in the booth and studies you. “Mando has always had a… let’s say, a frustrating penchant for disregarding the pillars of our code. My apologies, young lady, but I’m afraid that I cannot accept these from you.”
Your voice comes out quieter than you’d like it to sound. “Why not?”
“It is… unlawful,” he answers after a moment. “Our organization operates under strict rules.”
Does it? You blink. No, it doesn’t. You’re nothing to the Guild and you’ve sat next to Din quite a few times while Karga talked, listening to him drunkenly boast about return rates and out members by name. You’re not sure why he’s barring you like this, but you’re also not self-assured enough to put practically any spine into it whatsoever. “I’m… afraid I don’t understand.”
“I cannot legally do guild business with individuals not recognized as members in an official capacity,” he sighs, sounding grave and almost apologetic about it, but you don’t know him well enough to know if he’s a good actor or not. “There’s nothing I can do for you besides provide you with my company, not until Mando decides to show.”
Well now that doesn’t make any sense, and you’re starting to worry that for some reason or another, he isn’t going to show. Though it was incredibly well concealed, you’re well aware that Din was still lingering in the final recovery stages when he left the Crest earlier and all you have to go on is his word that he’d be here. Something could’ve happened. Something could be happening right now, you need to push.
“People pick up bounties for extra credits all the time,” you mumble, still way too fucking quiet about it. Maker, you’re not even sure if he could hear that over the sound of the cantina. Speak up, speak up.
“Yes, but those quarry are listed on the New Republic’s most wanted database,” Karga acknowledges diplomatically, educating more than he is arguing, before uncorking the bottle of glowing blue alcohol in front of him and beginning to pour himself another shot. “They’re fodder. Up for grabs—names, last known locations, and biometrics published for the entire galaxy to read.” He tilts his head down at the four metal pucks on the table without removing his gaze from the gradually filling glass. “Those pucks are different, they’re commissions. Tied specifically to Guild contracts.” Karga clunks the bottle back down again and corks it, pinning you with a stare. “For all I know, you could’ve murdered a member of our ranks and come to collect payment for his bounties. Can’t have that.”
Your blood suddenly turns to ice at the implication, eyes wide and your heartbeat rocketing as you look from Karga to the three guards casually stationed behind him. “You—You think I murdered Mando?”
“No,” he says, easily and in the very same breath, before throwing the shot back and wiping his mouth with a grimace. “Not sure I’d care too much if you did. It’s not my rule, but I am required to follow it or risk losing my position in the Guild.”
Shit. Shit. What do you do?
You’re blank, left quiet and feeling increasingly unsure of how to proceed. Karga, however, seems completely unbothered and even appears to be enjoying himself and your company. He gives you another smile, this one a lot friendlier and more genuine than the one earlier, before setting his elbows on the table and leaning forward.
“Look, I want to help you,” he admits, keeping his tone light, “but my hands are tied. Just relax and share a drink with me until he gets here, it’s not a problem.”
Fuck, you don’t like this, and a quick look around brings another reminder of Din’s continued absence. Your chest feels tight, the anxiety starting to compound and make you jumpy. It’s been too long—it’s been at least forty minutes or so of waiting by now and something just feels wrong about this. Not having him next to you feels wrong enough on its own, but when he specifically told you he’d be here?
You clench your jaw and try to work up your nerve. Karga is a nice guy, right? He knows you by name, he knows who you are to Mando. And while you never really thought about the bounty hunter’s omnipresent protection as being anything other than metaphorical, you suddenly realize that… it might be literal, too. How much sway do you actually have here, you wonder? You’re not stupid, you’re not going to try anything stupid, but maybe just another question won’t hurt?
“Well, um… how do you become a member, then?” You ask him, and you watch as he leans back in the booth, raising both eyebrows at you.
“Excuse me?” He asks, though there’s a genuine amusement in his voice. Stunned that you’d even say the words aloud.
“I have four bodies,” you tell him shortly. You’re still quiet about it, but his thoroughly entertained astonishment is beginning to rub you the wrong way. You don’t want to be part of the Guild, you don’t want to be here, you’re doing this out of growing necessity. “One of which I dragged through a blizzard on Hoth by its ankles and put into carbonite myself, so please just tell me what I have to do to get you to take them.”
“I can’t,” he repeats, shaking his head like you’re just not getting it. “New members are only accepted if they bring in an S-level criminal from the database or if they complete a commission that was granted to them by someone of my station—neither of which apply to you. If you cannot present me with any sort of reasonable argument for which they could, then I’m afraid this is not a favor I can swing.”
“I was sitting right here,” you return, suddenly finding your voice. If Karga wants an argument from you to get this to happen, then you’ll do it. You just need to finish this exchange, go back to the Crest, and scan around for Din’s signal. “When you first gave the pucks to Mando, I sat right here and you pushed them over to this side of the table—I was present for the commission and now I’m here to complete it.”
He shakes his head. “But I didn’t give them to you, I gave them to Mando—”
“Yes, but you only wanted to give him three,” you immediately point out. “The last one, the one I told you I put into carbonite—you said you threw it in because you liked me, it could’ve been for me.”
Karga suddenly stops and blinks at you for a few seconds, and you bite your lip, wondering if the logic will hold. It’s flimsy as fuck and you know he could very easily rip it apart if he wanted to. It could’ve been for you but it wasn’t, he gave it to Mando. You also purposefully leave out the fact that you’re also the reason Mando only gave him three bodies in the first place; your only goal here is to complete this transaction as quickly as possible and leave. You don’t like the fact that it’s taking Din so long, and you also don’t like the fact that Karga seems so keen on keeping you here with him, no matter how many reassurances he provides. He said he wants to help you? This can be his chance to prove it.
After a few extended moments of consideration, Karga finally shrugs like he really couldn’t care less before reaching across the table for the pucks and beginning to stack them in his palm.
“What is your last name?” He asks, turning behind him to gesture for one of his men with a jerk of his head. The bodyguard exits the cantina without another word and your eyes flick back to Karga’s.
“Why does it matter?” You ask uncertainly, watching another guard approach with a holopad as he shrugs once more.
“It doesn’t, but we need something for our records,” Karga explains, grabbing the device as it’s tapped against his shoulder without removing his gaze from yours. “I can just use Doe if you don’t feel like sharing—most of our members tend to prefer anonymity, including your companion.”
Your eyebrows furrow even as your heart continues to pound, wondering how they can afford to be so lax about some things but take others so seriously. “You have him down as John Doe?”
“First name Man,” Karga grunts in response, finally breaking eye contact to begin navigating through pages on the holopad.
“Ah,” you say shortly, knowing you’d probably find the joke funny in other circumstances. You’re not out of the trenches yet, you still feel the worry tugging hard at your chest.
“Very well,” Karga announces with a sigh, pocketing the pucks in his leather overcoat and then handing the holopad back to one of the men flanking him after a moment. “Someone is collecting the carbonite plaques from your vessel as we speak.”
You give him a nod, taking a deep breath that you hope is slow and subtle enough to not give your anxiety away. He helped you out, you’re halfway through this. Now comes the exchange. Now it’s his turn to give you the credits and four more pucks, that’s how this should go.
Only, Karga leans back in his seat and cocks his head at you. “Unfortunately, I believe we have found ourselves in the midst of yet another predicament.”
Your heart continues to slam, praying you haven’t somehow majorly fucked things up by getting this far. Din still isn’t here, why is he so fucking late? He nearly froze to death and you handled a dead body just to make this meeting on time, where the fuck is he?
You raise an eyebrow at him, willing the building panic not to show on your face. “Have we?”
“You’re lucky credits are attached to commissions instead of rank within the Guild,” he prefaces, pulling out a large handful of them to begin counting, and your eyes flick around the cantina while you know he isn’t looking, “or else you’d be getting about half of what I’d normally give him.”
Heart galloping when you still don’t see any sign of him, you just decide to keep extra quiet as you watch Karga divvy out a sizable stack of credits, hoping your prolonged silence will protect you somehow.
“The question now becomes…” he lifts an eyebrow at you while sliding them across the table to you, “how many pucks do I give you in return, hm?”
Fuck, you don’t like this, you’re trying to make it crystal fucking clear that your intentions do not extend beyond the perimeter of this table. There’s no you to be found in this deal, you’re just an emergency proxy in Din’s absence and you only inserted yourself in the situation to accomplish that task. “I told you I’m only here to exchange on Mando’s behalf, that’s it.”
“Be that as it may…” Karga glances around the cantina like he’s thinking extra hard about it. This is a made-up problem, you both know there’s no predicament here. He knows you didn’t kill Mando, he knows there’s no real reason to be giving you such a hard time about this, and you clench your jaw as he still seems to take his time considering it. “Tell you what, young lady,” he finally turns back to you. “Do me the honor of sharing one sip of this fine spotchka with me and I’ll give you four pucks to pass along to Mando.”
Okay. Okay, you can do that, if he really cares that much. Karga gestures for the closest droid to come by with a glass for you, but you just grab the bottle in front of him and uncork it without thinking too much, balancing the glowing blue liquid with two hands and diligently taking a small sip of it before setting it down again. Appearing satisfied with your demonstration of upholding your end of the bargain, Karga grins and reaches into another pocket.
“Four for Mando,” he pushes four pucks across the table, “same rate and return as last time, as promised.” You nearly deflate in relief as you quickly gather them up and begin dropping them into the snoozing baby’s shield along with the credits, but then Karga reaches back and pulls out another puck, pushing it over to you. “And one for you.”
You blink at him, frozen in place.
“Lowest level, lowest pay. Not even a criminal by New Republic standards, just a missing person,” he goes on to say, but then quite suddenly…
Quite suddenly you’re absolutely fucking horrified.
You don’t want it. Everything inside you surges up to scream that you do not want that puck. It’s a waste of time, even if it’s an extra job—it’s too much trouble, too much fuel for such a small reward. You already know good and well that Din won’t want to bother, getting this extra puck would be considered a detriment to him.
“What if I don’t want it?” You ask, sounding nervous and vaguely out of breath as you look down at it.
Karga scoffs. “Of course you don’t. Nobody wants these, why do you think I’m trying so hard to pawn one off on you?”
Shit. This is not at all how you expected any of this would go. You know he’s not really asking, even if his tone and continued courtesy implies it’s only a request. There’s an expectation attached to this, and it appears you take too long pondering an offer that isn’t actually voluntary. Karga stares at you and your clear apprehension for just a few seconds more, before finally giving you an ultimatum. “You said you’re here on his behalf. You either take all five pucks now or Mando only gets three next time, your choice.”
Oh. Oh, no. This is a lose-lose; three pucks means more fuel and less credits, five pucks means more fuel and less credits. It’s not like you have any real bargaining power here—almost everything he’s done for you today has been a favor of some sort and you’re well aware that things can always get worse.
Still, you take a deep breath and try your best to throw around whatever weight you have left in one final agreement.
“Give me your word you’ll go back to giving him four from now on, no more hassling or hard time constraints and we’ll take it just this once,” you tell him, trying to conjure and put power behind your words even though you’re unsure if they’ll stick.
“Deal,” Karga readily agrees with a smile, reaching his hand across the table. You have no choice but to meet him in the middle and clasp it, unable to feel anywhere close to good about your performance here. It was clunky and insecure and even though you just barely succeeded in making the exchange overall, you’re massively disappointed in the specifics.
But then Karga’s eyes quickly flick over your shoulder.
“Ah, Mando!” He suddenly calls out, and your hand nearly snatches away from his while your body goes rigid.
Oh, this isn’t good, this is not good. Well, it’s good that he’s here but it also really fucking isn’t. You don’t even turn your head; you sit completely straight and still while the cantina falls to a hush and heavy footsteps begin to approach behind you. You fucked up—you fucked up, you didn’t wait long enough and you feel the sharp regret instantly twist in your stomach. He said he’d be here, why didn’t you trust him? Your anxiety and stress compounded and spurned you to act too quickly, you made the deal a few fucking seconds before he showed up.
And, as Din eventually comes into your peripheral, taking his time leaning his rifle up against the table, you immediately realize that you should not have worried. Recovery isn’t even a word in his vocabulary right now—he’s more intimidating than he’s ever been, more powerful and certain and dangerous while he lowers himself into the seat next to you than he’s ever felt to you before. Everything is so quiet now that he’s here; you feel like even just swallowing against the sudden dryness in your throat turns into an audible gulp. The man sitting across from you may own this cantina and every material good under its roof, but the one sitting by your side feels like he steals the literal air from the room just by walking inside it.
Yet, in spite of the daunting presence of the Mandalorian, Karga beams and tips his glass at him. “I believe you’ve arrived just in time for your favorite part of the conversation, friend. The farewells.”
You stare wide-eyed down at the table as Din leans back into the booth and very slowly extends his arm behind your shoulders, saying nothing at all to him.
The testosterone is radiating from him to the point of near suffocation, you can taste the alpha in the air. Your heart slams in your chest at the unspoken claim he just made with a subtle movement, and though you’ve never been one for masculine displays, this one weirdly feels… good right now. You know it’s primitive and crude and you’re not a piece of meat to be fought over, but it doesn’t feel like that at all. It’s the immediate feeling of security that serves to heat your cheeks, the fact that you’ve been a nervous mess trying to be extra brave this whole interaction and then suddenly you have the backup of an entire army contained within one single suit of armor next to you.
If you weren’t internally panicking at how badly you screwed this shit up, you’d probably be going fucking feral for him right now.
Karga says your name and your gaze snaps to his, feeling like you can’t breathe. “My associate has collected the plaques, nothing keeps you here any longer. It was a pleasure doing business with you.”
Still, nobody at the table moves.
After a moment, you carefully glance up and to the side at the sharp, metallic profile of his helmet. Maker, you can’t explain it—it’s like you feel terrified but not really for yourself, if that makes sense. You’re upset with yourself for not having enough trust in his word, absolutely, but something in Din’s demeanor tells you that he’s going to be considerably less understanding of how Karga handled this situation than the way you did.
The helmet slowly turns down to look at you, and you bite your lip while carefully placing your hand on his thigh brace under the table, letting him feel your fingers brush against the bend of his knee.
He turns back to Karga after a few seconds, still not saying a single word, until eventually Din’s arm is lifted from behind your shoulders and you feel his leather fingers gently clasp your hand, before he starts to rise from the booth and pull you along next to him. You both stand, and he silently presses a button on his vambrace without dropping your grip, urging the kid’s shield to follow along behind him.
“Um, goodbye,” you just barely remember to tell Karga as Din begins leading you away, apparently not waiting for the polite farewells he arrived in time for.
“Wait!” A voice calls out just before you can make your exit, and Din pauses just in time for Karga to extend that damned fifth puck out for you to grab. Right in fucking front of him. “Can’t forget this!”
Fuck. Great. Thanks.
Blood rushes to your face while you go to reach for it, taking the puck and then placing it in the open shield along with four others in a way that you hope is casual but you know isn’t. You close the lid on it and then squeeze Din’s hand slightly, but he stays rooted to the spot for a few more seconds, having watched the entire exchange play out. Though you obviously wouldn’t be able to read his facial expressions even if you could lift your head to look up at him, you can’t will yourself to do so right now. You’re too disappointed in yourself and nervous—you just stand there silently as he looks back at Karga, staring at your feet and praying he doesn’t do anything brash.
After too many moments of uncertainty, you squeeze his hand again and slowly begin to pull on it. Without needing much pressure at all, he goes where you go, and you end up being the one to lead Din out of the cantina by the hand still tangled with yours.
***
The walk back to the Crest lasts an eternity.
Neither one of you say anything at all to each other the entire way there, and you know he’s not mad at you yet, but you’re worried. You feel incredibly self-critical right now and it’s really not helping that he seems even quieter and more wound up than usual. You don’t know if it’s because he already figured out that you just handed him extra work or if it’s because whatever made him late to the cantina also altered his mood, hit a reset button and reminded him of the way he used to be, the armor he’s wearing. Was there a confrontation, you wonder? Is he okay? He seems like he’s… extra Mandalorian right now, there’s not really a better way to describe it.
He doesn’t drop your hand, though. As you pass through the markets and shanty huts lining the streets, Din holds onto you. Shoulders tense and strides heavy, but his fingers stay tangled in yours.
Regardless, you keep your mouth shut and eventually the Crest comes into view. The ramp drops to the ground and the three of you make your way up, and you have enough foresight to carefully drop Din’s hand and lead the baby’s shield over to the unused cot built into the hull walls, closing him in a safe quiet place to sleep and continue building up his strength again.
You turn around to see Din press another button on his vambrace. He stays with his back to you as the ramp slowly closes, but as soon as it latches up against the hull and locks into place, he nearly whips around and suddenly he’s right in front of you, gloves cupping your face.
“What happened?” He asks sharply, the helmet looking you up and down. “Are you alright? Why did you look so scared?”
You reach up to rest your hands on his, blinking up at him and not knowing what to say. How are you going to tell him? He’s gotta waste extra fuel and time on a bullshit quarry because of you, what are you going to say? You don’t even know if it’s last known location is nearby; he might have to fly to some remote, desolate corner of the galaxy just for a handful of credits because you couldn’t wait a fucking hour for him.
“I, uh… I-I’m sorry, I just…” But it’s nearly impossible to form a coherent thought when he’s this close to you and sounding fucking sincere, genuinely concerned about you while you’re stuck worrying about how to break the bad news to him. “Oh, stars, um…”
“Did Karga fuck with you?” He asks in that same sharp tone when you don’t finish your thought, but you’re so absorbed in your own conflict that you barely even hear him. “Because I can go back right now, the cantina is just—”
“Okay wait, please—” You suddenly speak up, “before I tell you, just… please keep in mind that I did save your life two days ago, so…”
“Sweet girl,” Din rumbles slowly, a subtle warning for you to hurry up and spit it out. His fingers tighten just slightly on your cheeks, still so gentle but needing you to communicate with him right now.
Tell him, you just need to tell him. If he gets mad, then he gets mad, but at least he’ll know at that point and you won’t just be springing it on him out of nowhere.
“I fucked up,” you breathe out, eyebrows pulling up in the middle as you tighten your own grip on his hands. “I’m so sorry, I fucked up and you were late and I got nervous and I didn’t wait long enough and I tried to make the exchange like you asked me to but then I had to take a fifth puck and I didn’t want to but Karga threatened to short change you next time around unless I agreed to take an extra one for the lowest pay just this once and I didn’t have any bargaining power and you showed up right after I agreed to the deal and I’m so so sorry—”
You cut yourself off with your own ragged gasp, not having paused once to breathe throughout the entire thing while your expression twisted up with regret more and more the longer he allowed you to speak.
Din stands there in front of you and doesn’t move, hands still attached to your face.
“Okay,” he eventually tells you. Stunted words, like he’s trying extra hard to find them when yours just fell out of your mouth in a complete mess. “It’s okay. You did… good.”
The silence is tense and you’re becoming more and more anxious the longer he takes to speak. He’s lying for your benefit, he must be. When he drops his hands from your face and takes a full step back, you take the gesture as symbolic and nearly launch into panic.
“Maker, I’m so sorry I didn’t wait for—” You start to say, but Din cuts you off.
“Did he make you…” His back suddenly goes a little straighter, voice finding a quiet edge through the modulator as his fingers subtly twitch at his sides, “…Uncomfortable?”
You pull back at the sudden change in subject and furrow your eyebrows.
“Who, Karga?” You have to think about it. Did he make you uncomfortable, or were you just uncomfortable already? You might’ve just been scared because you were making it scarier than it really was, you can admit that’s a valid possibility. “Um… no? I don’t know, not… not really, I don’t think.”
“No?” He asks, taking a small step forward. “You don’t know? Or not really… you don’t think?”
You know you can only see the blade of his visor, but something makes you feel like you’re looking right in his eyes. You even go back and forth between where you’re pretty confident each one is, trying to read his intentions right now. It’s like he’s purposefully trying to keep space between you even though he looks like he wants to move closer, fisting his hands at his sides when he looks like he wants to touch you.
“No, he just… lowballed me towards the end of it and I got intimidated, but I’m also not…” Your expression narrows in concentration while you try to find the words to explain yourself, wanting to be as honest as possible with him. “I don’t know, I’m not like you. I’m not that strong, but I’m trying to get better. I think he was probably just being normal. He did offer me alcohol a bunch, but I’m pretty sure he also did that last time, so—”
“And I didn’t like it the last time he did it,” Din says quietly, taking another small step forward.
You blink up at him, completely dumb. This is what’s bothering him? Is he really not upset with you at all for giving him more work? It’s like the major fuckup on your behalf just went in one side of the helmet and out the other, he barely even acknowledged it other than the role Karga played. He said it’s okay and you did good, which are like… five of the most common words in Galactic Basic, a Wookiee could probably find a way to say them. How are you supposed to take that? Were you just overthinking this whole thing from the very beginning? You know anxiety tends to be irrational by definition, but has none of your panic from the past hour been justified whatsoever?
“Why were you so late?” You ask him, but it’s not accusatory in the slightest. It’s… concerned, worried about his well-being without having a real reason. He’s clearly more than fine right now, he’s like a hurricane enclosed in metal and holding still in front of you. Too much potential energy just waiting for a reason to be released, too much tension held tight and ready to snap.
“I’m sorry.” He quickly reaches out to grab your hand and squeeze it, before dropping it just as quickly. Fucking lightning quick, you’ll never understand how he can be so damn quick with all that extra weight strapped to him. “It took longer than I thought it would and she’s not really someone you can rush.” His response, ironically, feels very rushed, like he’s trying to address the tangent but also keep things on track, but something in the answer he gives catches your direct attention. “Did he flirt with you?”
“Who is she and what can’t be rushed?” You blurt at the same time, not even taking a split second to think about it.
Din stops short at the blunt question, staring at you in a silence that feels like it’s vaguely taken aback.
After a few moments of that… strangeness, of the two of you realizing that you’re both feeling slightly possessive over each other for absolutely no reason whatsoever, you start to feel… warm. In another weirdly stupid, primitive way. You know that letting those kinds of thoughts have their day in a relationship isn’t a good thing, but you can’t explain it. Some deep-seated, prehistoric instinct inside you just goes fucking nuts whenever he gets in either provider or protector mode. Now you understand exactly why he wanted to get you alone after you admitted to being jealous once before. You totally fucking get it, you’re right there with him right now. He hasn’t said anything, but you think he feels it, too.
“She makes things,” Din finally answers you, careful with his words and somehow managing to address your question while also sidestepping it, leaving you with only the smallest bit of information to go off of. “Did he flirt with you?”
“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly. “Maybe. He could’ve just been trying to be friendly. What did she make for you?”
“She made it for you,” he responds, again not really answering the question but continuing to juggle two separate conversations for your benefit. “Did he scare you?”
“For me?” You ask, eyebrows shooting upwards. Provider, that stupid cavewoman DNA whispers to your lower body, making your voice go a little breathless. “You asked her to make something for me?”
“Did he scare you?” Din repeats sternly, grabbing your hand and giving it a firm squeeze. “Because I can go back, I swear—”
Protector, it whispers this time, and your knees nearly buckle.
“Everything is scary when I don’t know where you are,” you admit to him, knowing it’s the truth regardless of how self-deprecating it sounds. The only times you’ve ever truly been brave was because of him or the kid. Stabbing a Corellian and then immediately flying the Crest out to him afterwards, walking through a pitch black forest believing a dangerous criminal was hiding in it, dragging a dead body through snow and shoving it into carbonite, standing up for yourself and pushing a deal through when odds were stacked against you. Though it’s nothing to him, it’s nothing, it’s leaps for you. You’re slowly learning to find a backbone, and he’s the one inspiring it.
Din holds there for a moment, unmoving with his hand still clutching yours. You can’t get a read on him but you know how you feel right now. Achy. Hot. Needy. Wanting him to come closer.
“Will you do something for me?” He asks you after a prolonged silence. His voice is quiet, but… incredibly restrained. Controlled chaos—his body is rigid and he’s flexing muscles that aren’t necessary for just standing, feeling like a sprinter holding still on the starting blocks.
“Of course,” you breathe out.
Din lets go of your hand and tilts his helmet over at the corner of the hull behind you. “Go turn around and face that wall.”
You freeze, immediately recognizing the undertone in his voice. Heat ladles deep into the pit of your tummy, sends warmth pooling downwards. He wants to do this here? Right now?
“We’re—” you look around the enclosed hull, “Mando, we’re not in hyperspace, we haven’t even left the surface yet…”
He looks around too, taking a second to blankly take in his stagnant surroundings like he had absolutely fucking no idea, before turning back to you and not saying a word. Maker, everything below your waist is already stirring, twisting hot and deep inside, but you’re trying to be the voice of reason for a second.
“What if somebody hears us?” You whisper, and Din cocks his head to the other side.
“I can help you stay quiet,” he murmurs, and… fuck. You don’t know what it means, but you immediately imagine his hand held tight over your mouth while he takes some of this stress out on you and you already feel yourself wilting at the thought. Okay.
“Okay,” you breathe without needing anything else at all, before spinning around and standing exactly where he told you to. It’s just a corner near the back of the hull, nothing else here to look at besides two metal panels meeting at a right angle, but that’s admittedly what makes your heart start beating quicker. You can’t see him come up behind you but you can feel it. Slow, measured, but so restrained.
But then he stops almost immediately, before the back of your shirt is suddenly being yanked upwards and you remember at the very last second.
Din carefully grips his blaster and then eases it out of your waistband, the metal sliding warm along your skin from pressing against it for so long. You never told him you took it with you, and he’s so fucking quiet behind you. You have no idea how he’s reacting to that piece of information you originally didn’t think twice about.
“Do you like carrying my gun around?” Din’s voice murmurs soft through the modulator to you, but then the blaster is tossed uselessly to the side, skittering loudly across the floor of the hull.
“Yes,” you reply, beginning to shyly turn your head back to look at him, hoping to gauge his response.
“Don’t turn around,” he quickly interrupts you, pushing your shoulder back into position and keeping you facing the corner. You blink at the metal walls in a bit of a daze but follow instructions regardless, feeling your heart pound at the sudden display of dominance from him. He has a very valid reason for it and you don’t realize what it is until a few seconds later, but even if he didn’t and he was just telling you what to do for the fun of it… you’d still like it.
But then his helmet is carefully being lowered over your head and you shudder as your vision is replaced with a familiar black abyss. Fuck, his helmet, why does he like it so much when you wear this? Admittedly, you don’t have much time to contemplate—as soon as it’s fitted and secure, he spins you around and you have to just do your best to maintain your balance, not having any visual to help.
“Can you hear me?” Din asks, and your clothes start to be ripped off of you. Your shoulders tip sideways with how quick he is about it, feeling him pull the fabric off and hearing the soft sound it makes landing on the floor.
“Yes,” you tell him, but he doesn’t respond, continuing to strip you completely naked in the hull. Once your upper body is bare and he’s yanking your pants and underwear down your legs, you try saying it again as you step out of them, louder for him this time.
“I can’t hear you,” his voice grunts after a moment. You know he’s in front of you but you can’t really tell where, now that he’s not touching you. “Scream.”
You take a second, not having hard evidence anymore but still very well aware that you’re parked close to a marketplace on Nevarro and multiple people are nearby while you’re wearing his helmet. This is dangerous for him, and not sure if you should, but then an arm is wrapping around your back and a large leather palm rests directly over your chest. Din repeats his last word very slowly and clearly for you, waiting to feel it under his hands.
Your sternum lifts while it rises with your deep breath and then collapses as you diligently yell as loud as you can into the helmet, feeling like you might deafen yourself with the trapped sound.
“Good,” he growls, suddenly spinning you around and pushing you back into the metal paneling. “I can’t hear you, be as loud as you need. Hit me or something, put up a fight if you want me to stop, alright?”
Arousal rockets through you and you let out a moan already, taking advantage of the noise suppression and beyond turned on at this point. You feel like you’re buzzing with it, lit up with excitement and wondering with bated breath what he’s planning to do to you.
“Alright?” Comes his voice from behind you once more, and you quickly jerk the heavy helmet in a nod for him. You can put up a fight and you know he’ll stop, you don’t have any problem with that and the fact that he specifically made sure to wait until he knew you understood him makes you start to pant inside the hollow beskar.
But then you feel him flick a small switch at the base of the helmet and then everything abruptly cuts out and goes dead silent.
Nothing. Nothing. You’re standing in a pitch black room where no other sound exists besides your own labored breathing. Just like the waterfall on Naboo, but you can’t speak this time. Temporarily making you blind, deaf, and putting a proverbial gag over your mouth all with one powerful piece of armor.
You shudder and he kicks your legs apart before you can do much else, yanking your hips back while you just try your best to cling to the wall for stability. You don’t know what he’s going to do, you’re completely isolated in here and the only way you can even tell he dropped to his knees is the hot glide of his tongue through your pussy from behind.
Oh fuck—you arch into position as best you can while hands wrap around your ankles to pull them apart, trying to make the angle better. His tongue licks softly over your clit and each time is like an electric shock jolting through your body, making you twitch back and up for him, stretching and begging him to do it again. You can’t see anything right now so your mind readily imagines the visuals instead, providing you with a third party view. Din, fully clothed and face shielded by your thighs, eating you out from behind while you brace yourself against the wall, completely naked and at his mercy, head tilted down from the weight of his helmet and living for the moments he decides to drag his tongue across your clit.
Without warning, a sudden burst of sensation ripples along your backside and causes you to lift the beskar in surprise, but without being able to hear anything, it takes you a second to figure out that he just smacked your ass. The realization comes more or less at the exact time he decides to flatten his tongue and follow the curve of you back and up.
You gasp into the pitch black and there’s a moment where you just hold utterly still for him, experiencing and processing the sensation for the very first time. His mouth is soft and warm as he tastes you here, his fingers digging into the swell of your cheeks to spread you open. You’re glad your face is hidden so he can’t see the shock in your expression, the way your mouth drops and your eyes close as you let him explore you this way.
His gloved hands leave you for just a moment while he continues gliding his tongue against you, along every single bit of skin he can reach, and then you feel a bare hand reach up between your legs and begin to rub slow circles around your clit. His other arm pushes against your lower back and you’re forced into the corner even more, your naked breasts pressing hard against cool metal and feeling his hot mouth and strong fingers work you closer to the edge from behind.
You’re panting into the helmet, your hips arching back to feel that stimulation on your clit better, and as his fingers move over it slow and strong, you feel a soft vibration against your skin and you realize he’s moaning into you. The knowledge sparks a different kind of heat through you and makes you suddenly go still and tense right here. If he stays just like this for even just a few more seconds, you’re going to cum.
“Din, I’m gonna cum,” your voice warbles inside the enclosed steel—just as his touch decides to abandon your body. You groan loudly in distress, completely alone without his hands or mouth on you anymore, but all he likely hears is the silence of the hull and the way your palm smacks against the wall with it. You were so close, everything feels like it’s pulled up so tight and painful and it hurts—
A hand clutches your hip and then a thick cock is suddenly pushing up against your soaking wet entrance, going to alleviate that twisting discomfort. Your eyes roll back and your whole body goes limp as he slowly eases forward and breaks you open, fitting himself deep inside where you love to feel him most. Your hands claw down the walls with a swell of bliss as he pulls out and then starts thrusting—and fuck, you love this. You love the way he’s trapping you up against the corner and making you see stars at the same time, the way he’s supporting your weight but crushing down into you, too. It makes you go boneless and want to riot simultaneously, groaning loud into the quiet abyss as he gives you what you both desperately needed.
One of his hands sinks down between your legs to play with your clit again, while a slick finger presses up against your ass and you gasp as he slowly penetrates you there, too. Din’s hips work steady and powerful behind you, pushing you into the wall with every desperate thrust, using the arm shoved between your legs to support you as well as stimulate, and you just feel yourself move into a different place. You don’t have a name for it but it feels like hyperspace. Silence so loud it feels suppressing, faster than anything light can touch, nowhere and everywhere, hurtling towards something you can’t see but know lies in the distance. You can tell he’s still fucking the tension out of his body, you can feel him working another wet finger inside you and stretching the virgin muscles back there, but every sensation begins to slowly blur together in a wicked uprising of ecstasy.
You don’t know where you are anymore, just that his fingers keep rubbing your clit and you think he's trying to ease a third into you when your destination abruptly arrives.
You nearly collapse when you cum, contracting so hard around his cock and fingers that you cry out unexpectedly—and because of the helmet, you think it’s just as unexpected for him. He stops moving—everything stops moving besides you. Your hips stutter backwards into his stationary body, dragging your clit back and forth against the tips of his unmoving fingers and fucking him as best you can. It shatters white hot and goes straight through to your soul, wringing pleasure and wetness between your legs in waves.
Your knees are knocking against each other when Din pulls out, his cock still deliciously hard and now soaking wet with your cum, and then they just suddenly decide to give up without warning. You don’t fall necessarily, but you do slowly slide down the wall like a slug and Din follows you to the floor instead of holding you up any longer. His sternum moves quick and heavy against your back as he breathes and then suddenly the same switch at the base of his helmet is flicked, and sound bursts into existence all at once.
He’s panting. Harsh breaths behind you that match the rapid pace of his chest, and the ambient noise of the rest of the hull.
“Can you hear me?” He gasps, sounding fucking wrecked, and you nod the helmet against the wall while gravity and exhaustion and his beskar chestplate squishes you into it. “P-Put up a fight if you want me t-to stop, p-please—” he rasps out, almost the entire thing air and so close to cumming, and then his knees lift just slightly and the blunt head of his cock presses against your other entrance.
And, if you wanted, you absolutely could. He’s got you boxed into the corner but he’s not constricting your movements, he’s given you every ability to struggle. You could easily throw an elbow back against his side, push against the wall to shove him away, smack at his arms or even just flail against his body in panic—you could do one or all of those things to signal him to stop and you know he’d do it immediately, he’s asking you to. You could struggle. If you wanted.
Instead, you just grab hold of the beskar strapped to his thigh and drop the helmet to your chest, nearly vibrating with the thrill and preparing yourself for it. You know he’s gotta be inches away from orgasm, you know from the tone of his voice that he’s right there on the edge and it’s not like it’s going to last a long time. Thanks to him, you also feel like you’re just as slick and wet back there as you are between your legs, stretched open by his fingers while you came all over him. You want nothing more than to give this to him, to let him be the only person in the universe that knows how you feel this way.
When you pointedly do not put up a fight and even go so far as to arch your lower back for him in presentation, Din curses and his fingers begin jerking back and forth over your sensitive clit once more. It might normally be too much for you, but your body is sparking with lust and quickly acclimates to the stimulation, learning to burn and ache for it, too. Fuck, it feels so good, you tense and melt into it at the same time, letting him ease you back up to that peak once more.
He pushes up against the tight ring of skin and you can’t fucking explain it—his fingers keep rubbing your clit and he’s slowly pushing into your ass and—
“I—I think I’m—” you suddenly lift the helmet to gasp out in surprise, forgetting he can’t hear you, “ngh—D-Din, I think I’m gonna c—”
He’s just barely able to breach the tight entrance and fit the head inside before he freezes—and even though everything happens consecutively, it’s all so rapid that it feels simultaneous.
Your hips could go forward, but they don’t. Your body decides to send you backwards into him, pushing him inside nearly halfway all at once as your muscles lock down and just fucking strangle his cock. Your piercing scream gets trapped in the silence of his helmet as you cum once more—painfully, madly and with every fucking part of you for him. There’s maybe one or two mind shattering pulses of ecstasy before the rest of your body catches up and starts convulsing, and by then Din is already gasping and fumbling behind you, suddenly realizing what’s happening without hearing the sound of your ragged warnings and then ripping himself away just in time.
He punches out your name when he cums like you just fucking snapped him in half—his body hunches and the beskar digs hard into your back as warmth starts splattering along your skin. You crumple while he shoves his hips up against your spine, riding and working the orgasm out of himself while yours just fucking obliterates you. You think you whine his name—or a curse word or something, but it gets strained and your lungs lose air every time his powerful armored body humps you into the wall of his ship.
Finally he eases up and you just lay there and listen to the ringing in your ears. Blissfully empty, still pulsing from cumming so hard and feeling like your bones just decided to stop existing and the rest of you was okay with it since you were already on the floor anyways. You feel him shudder and twitch behind you, letting go of that last bit of tension until he too allows gravity to slouch his heavy torso over onto you.
You both stay like that for a while, until your eyes close and your everything below your waist goes numb. Eventually you feel him shift and your head bobbles as the helmet is slowly removed, but a large palm cradles your chin to stop your face from slamming into the wall in exhaustion once it’s off. You just continue to melt into the paneling like you’re nothing more than goo of a human being while he trades it back to its rightful place on his shoulders and tucks his cock back into his pants, before wrapping his arms around you and lifting you both up. The floor and metal walls, once feeling like you and them were one, suddenly decide to disappear entirely as you’re hauled up into Din’s powerful arms.
He slowly carries your naked, fucked senseless body over to the fresher, and you squint your eyes open over his shoulder to see… he’s still got his rifle slung around his back while his cum is dripping down yours. Not a single thing on him is out of place and you’re, well… a mess is a word that works. Limp and doll-like, carried like your weight is practically nothing to him after years of having the densest armor known to the galaxy strapped to his body.
Setting you down is a mess, too. At some point you think he just gives up and decides to return you to your humble floor abode with a patience and care unexpected from someone who just defiled you so thoroughly. You hear the fresher door open and the faucet squeak, before he turns back around and crouches to your level.
“Stay here,” Din tells you lowly, his modulated voice coming gentle and warm through the sounds of water raining down against metal. You don’t feel his touch directly, but your hair moves away from your face. ���I’ll be right back, okay—just stay here.”
Can do. Easy. He waits until you murmur a soft mhm to him before he leaves the tiny compartment, and then you soon hear his heavy footsteps ascending the ladder to the cockpit.
***
You don’t think you fall asleep, but the powering up of the Crest’s thrusters make you realize your eyes were closed. Opening them barely qualifies as a squint though; you look around to see steam slowly filling the fresher, the water already running hot and welcoming in the small room.
You know you need to shower but you’re so fucking exhausted, you feel like you can’t even move your body. You also know you can just do the same exact thing in there as you’re doing in here, you just need to muster up the energy necessary to get inside it and then fall back asleep. He set you down in the small little space outside the shower door and then got everything set up for you, you can at least stand up and take a few steps.
Unfortunately, you might pick just about the worst time possible to plant your hands on the ground and work to struggle upright on all fours like a newborn animal. The steady rise through Nevarro’s atmosphere pushes gravity down harder than you’re expecting—is he trying to fly quickly or are you just that dead-limbed?—and then of course, by the time you do manage to fight it and successfully get on two wobbly legs to hold yourself up, the subtle shift of the hyperdrive kicking in nearly knocks you back down again. You stumble and grab the walls, bracing yourself against them and looking down at your knees in exasperation. Come on, work. Move forward. Come on.
You’re glad he’s not here to witness this monstrosity, honestly. Just opening the door and taking a few steps into the fresher is a feat—while you’re not in any pain and he didn’t leave any marks on you, you just feel… steamrolled. Ran over by a truck. Only having the strength to keep your feet beneath you as you finally move under the water and close the door behind you.
Oh, but this is wonderful. This was such a good idea, he’s so fucking smart. The shower falls warm and lovely against your body, wetting your hair and immediately heating you down to your bones. You don’t move really at all—you kinda just stand there and slouch, closing your eyes against the spray and slowly breathing the mist into your lungs. It feels so nice—not really restorative even though you like that word, it would imply the water provides you with any energy whatsoever. It just feels like a comfort, a relief and sedative for your already wildly fatigued body.
You haven’t been in here for more than a minute or two when knuckles tap gently against the metal walls of the fresher, before the natural bass of Din’s unmodulated voice murmurs from somewhere beyond it. “Hey. Keep your eyes closed.”
How did he know? You figured you’d be way ahead of him. You’re standing but slumped over, wanting nothing more than to just say fuck gravity and pass out right here. The walls are too cold to lean against now that you’re all toasty from the heat and steam, so you’re just unconsciously swaying on your feet, trying to balance the precedence of sleeping versus not falling over. You don’t even comprehend the sudden flip of the light switch overhead beyond the fact that it makes it easier to snooze without being so bright behind your eyelids.
The door eventually opens at the very same time you realize you never answered him, but you just commit to the silence at this point. It’s easy, you like it. Soon you feel warm hands touch your shoulders, slowly spinning you around while you follow and hang your head, your neck not wanting to support it any longer, and then suddenly a bare chest is pressing up against you and powerful arms are wrapping around your body, and you can just lean all of your weight into him while your head rests right here on his shoulder.
He holds you without moving for a long time, keeping you just like this—your ear pressed against his skin while water rains hot and comfortable down your back. Knowing you’re facing one of the walls, you crack your heavy lids just the slightest bit and finally notice the tiny compartment is dim and shrouded—the only light source is a single one coming from somewhere in the hull beyond the partially closed doorway. It’s dark and quiet and you can barely see anything besides the metallic fresher walls and unfocused droplets chasing each other down Din’s naked skin. Just you and him, flowing water with a sheet metal backdrop.
You think you spend an eternity like that and yet you still find yourself wanting another when he finally shifts, reaching over you to grab a bar of his generic soap but making sure to use the arm whose shoulder you’re not currently resting against.
It glides slow and hypnotic down your back, dragging up over your sides and then back down the curve of your spine. He’s so sturdy and he doesn’t say a word while he does it, lathering it along your body and rubbing it into your skin. His bar of soap, not yours. They started out almost the same since you picked them up at the same vendor, but there’s just a slightly bolder and sharper scent to his that you recognize. How the bar is far larger than yours because of how often he’s gone away.
Your eyes droop and you feel the water trail over your lips, dripping down your chin and pooling the dip of his collarbone. The only other time you two shared this fresher was terrifying and he’s rewriting the memories right now, whether consciously or not. Hot water, not freezing cold. Standing upright and supporting you. Heart beating strong under your ear, taking care of you this time until you can care for yourself.
You… you just worry so much more now, it’s becoming an issue. You didn’t realize how much until you nearly lost him, and you know in your heart that he’s just going to go away again. Throw himself into more danger, tempt death as always, risk his life for mere credits while all you can provide in return is this. Skin to skin contact. Someone to hold. Someone who knows him, who knows the way he struggles between reaching out for a softness that life has always denied him and clinging to what is rough and familiar. Someone to remind him that there’s still gentle and forgiving things in this galaxy that won’t disappear when he’s gone, and that he can always come home to them, as long as he can manage to find his way back.
Something sad tugs hard at your chest. You want to tell him not to leave. Again, again—you want nothing more than to beg him to stay. You don’t have anything better to offer instead; if he asked you how it would work, how you imagine your lives would go if he wasn’t hunting quarry on a constant timetable, you’d be hard-pressed. You don’t know. But you know what you want to say, because it’s two words you shouldn’t say but always find yourself needing to say regardless.
Don’t go.
But, instead of two words, you give him three.
Instead of asking him not to leave you again… in the haze and comfort of his arms, you think you just tell him that you love him.
And… you also don’t think the water falling down on the two of you is loud enough to cover it up this time.
It’s not ideal, you know. You know. From his point of view, he just got finished releasing all sorts of pent up tension on you, overwhelming your body with the strength and power of his in a way that normal people wouldn’t take as an expression of affection. But you know him. You know that he finds it much easier to express the things he feels in a physical way, which is why there’s a bar of soap against your back right now instead of his voice in your ear, telling you all the things you’ve always wanted to hear from him in return. You know that sex is how this all began and it’s likely just the closest link between roughness and sweetness that he can really put his hands on, something that can fit him equally as well as it fits you. Love is different, it’s thrilling and scary. Even to someone like him, who lives everyday of his life surrounded by thrilling and scary things, who’s seen more bloodshed and suffering and pain than you can ever even imagine, you know that it’s scary.
Din doesn’t say anything back to your confession, and truthfully, not a single part of you was expecting him to. It wasn’t said so he could say it back. It just is. Some things don’t need explanations, they just are. You’re okay with that.
But, you eventually come to realize that he always waits until you’re just on the very edges of sleep, holding out until your blurry vision and fading consciousness can trick you into thinking you only imagined it. You won’t ever figure out if it’s purposeful or if he just needs that long to find what he wants to say.
Another soft, lilting sentence in a language you wouldn’t be able to translate, even if you could pick out a single word. It sounds so beautiful though, regardless of how mysterious and far away its meaning feels. There’s something hidden underneath. You ache to know what it is.
But you’re so tired. You just whine softly against his shoulder, not being able to transform the thoughts into sentences anymore but hoping he understands regardless. He can’t just resort to bearing his soul in Mando’a all the time now, especially when you’re always on the verge of sleep when he chooses to do so.
But at some point, his arms subtly tighten around you and the pressure is one of the only things that’s keeping you awake anymore.
“I won’t ever ask you to,” he says to you, the quietness of his baritone getting lost in the gentle spray and your looming slumber. “I’m… not allowed to ask. I can’t.”
Your expression twitches just the slightest bit against his shoulder in confusion, wondering distantly what word or sentence you must’ve missed from before that would make him make sense. Was that a translation? Or a continuation?
But then your wet hair is slowly moved away from your nape and his head tilts down, face pressing into your neck and voice lowering until it’s nothing more than a breath against your skin, nothing more than a confession that he couldn’t ever say out loud with his full chest. It’s a secret he only ever wants you to know, a truth he’s choosing to admit to even though you could ruin him with it. You have no idea how much, you won’t know for a long time just how much power he’s giving you by telling you this one very simple thing.
“But whenever you want to look,” Din finally whispers, the only version of I love you too that a Mandalorian knows. “You can.”
#the mandalorian#the mandalorian x you#the mandalorian x reader#din djarin x reader#din djarin x you#din djarin#fanfic#reader-insert#rough day#no-droids#smut
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Love is Outside the Screen - Part III - Elizabeth Olsen x Reader
Summary: The one where Reader plays Vision in the MCU and she falls in love with her co-worker Elizabeth Olsen.
Warnings: (+18), smut, sexual themes, strap on use, teasing, fingering, sexual suggestions, explicit language, explicit, obscenity, a bit of praise kink, dom/sub dynamics, bottom reader mostly, switch dynamics, power dynamic changes, slight possessive sex, brief angst, alcohol mentions, arguing, jealously, fluffy.
Words: 7.935 K
A/N> Instead of writing my series, I'm continuing works that were finished already. This is basically porn honestly haha No, but jokes aside, we have fluffy moments with a lot of smut. Good reading everyone!
Part One | Part Two | All Works Masterlist || AO3
//-//-/////-///-//
Love is Outside the Screen - Part III
Northern Ireland, two years ago.
You slipped under the long wooden table as the script indicated.
Your character was supposed to give a slight nod, and then gasp because of the torso injury, and you followed the script perfectly.
When the director yells cut, you stand up, trying not to bump into the makeover they did on your clothes.
"That was great, guys!" Shouted Alex Graves in the direction of the cast scattered around the medieval set. "Let's call it a day."
You were exhausted.
The Game of Thrones footage was absolutely grueling, and time-consuming, although it allowed you to learn something new with almost every scene.
Walking back toward the dressing room to clean up your makeup, you smiled shyly at the girls in the salon who congratulated you on the day's performance while helping you to remove your costume.
While they were going through your hair, you decided to check your cell phone.
There were two missed calls from Lizzie, and you felt your heart swell with guilt immediately.
She had also sent you messages asking if everything was okay, or if you were busy, and saying that she missed you, and you wish you had answered them all, but your routine had been completely absurd.
You felt your chest ache with longing every time you thought of your girlfriend.
When you signed the contract, you knew the conditions, and so did Lizzie. But nothing prepared you for the real thing.
Almost three months without a decent conversation, not even video calls, and the lack of her in your life was making you frustrated and irritated all the time. You were sinking into the screenplay and the recordings, because you simply hated not having Lizzie in your day-to-day life.
"Thank you girls." You said as soon as you noticed the makeup completely removed from your abdomen.
The change in the script killed your character sooner than expected, and you should go home early, even though it was going to take two or three months, it was much less than originally planned.
Grumbling softly, you went back to the dressing room, deciding to call Lizzie now that you would have a little time alone.
She doesn't answer until the second-to-last ring.
"Yes?" Her husky voice signals that she was asleep, but all you can feel is your body shaking at the sound.
"It's me, baby." You reply tenderly as you sit back in the armchair, pressing the cell phone to your ear as if you wish you could reach into the device and touch your girl.
"Oh, hey." She comments sleepily, and you wonder if she has closed her eyes again, or even opened them. "It's late."
"I know, I'm sorry." You say leaning back in the armchair. "I wanted to check that everything was okay because I couldn't answer you earlier."
"Don't worry, darling." She says softly, almost sleepily. "I just missed you."
"Me too, my love." You assure her, feeling your chest tighten slightly. My god, you just want to see her, hold her, touch her. "Lizzie, darling, are you asleep?"
"Yes." She whispers, making you smile.
"I love you baby." You say. "Call me when you wake up, I will interrupt as many scenes as it takes to talk to you."
"Behave yourself in the studio, love." She mumbles sleepily, and you laugh lightly. It was the same warning she gave on your last day in California, on the way out of the airport. "I love you. And I miss you."
You cursed the entire movie company at once when you could perceive the upset in Lizzie's tone, even in her sleepy state. You repeated that you loved her one more time before hanging up the phone.
As you put your cell phone away to grab your keys and head back to the hotel, you wondered if a breach of contract was really so bad.
//-//
Present, California.
You felt Lizzie's arms wrap around you as soon as you made mention of getting out of bed. You smiled, turning your body to look at her.
Her sleeping figure with her eyes closed, her hair slightly tousled made your heart warm with affection.
You loved her so much.
Raising your hand to her face, you stroked her cheek gently with your thumb, and watched the woman sigh softly, and even in her sleepy state, lean into your touch.
"Lizzie." You called softly, trying to wake her up. And did so again until she mumbled softly, leaning her face against the pillow. You let your hand wander to her hair, enjoying the softness as you stroked her scalp with your fingers. "We need to wake up baby."
Lizzie just mumbled again against the pillow cotton, making you smile at the cuteness of that scene.
You moved closer only to deposit short kisses across her face, and only stopped when she let out a husky giggle.
"Good morning, love." You whispered against her ear, and were about to pull away, but she tightened her arms around your waist, keeping you almost on top of her, making you smile.
"Good morning." She sighed back against the skin of your neck, and you blushed slightly when you felt her inhale your perfume and then tighten her fingers around your waist. "Fuck, I love you."
You laughed softly at her sudden, hoarse confession, but let your arms slip around her shoulders, burying your body against Lizzie's. The tenderness was wonderful, and she moved one hand up to caress your back while the other remained on your hip, her thumb moving across the skin beneath your blouse.
You tilt your face away just to look at her, and already you find her with her eyes wide open, a shy smile on her lips.
"I love you too, babe, but we need to get up." You tell her, and you almost get the impression that she's not even listening, because all she does is look at your face with adoration.
You bite back a smile as you feel her legs move beneath you, her bare foot caressing your ankle before she spins you around quickly and stands over you, the sudden movement making you sigh and tighten your arms intertwined around her neck.
"Lizzie!" You exclaim humorously, but all you get is a low murmur as she sinks her body against yours and buries her face in your neck.
"How much time do we have?" She asks against your skin, her lips dangling on that sensitive part of your collarbone and sending a shiver up the length of your spine.
"Enough." You reply already affected by her touch, closing your eyes to enjoy the sensation.
Lizzie smiles against your neck, beginning to deposit chaste kisses against your skin, making you sigh softly.
It didn't matter how many times you had been together or for how long, your body reacted to her in the same way. You only hoped that you wouldn't be late for your appointment with the Marvel directors, but when Lizzie slipped her hand up into your pajamas, you didn't care about that anymore.
//-//-//
London, 1 year and 9 months ago.
It's your third time on "The Graham Norton Show."
You finished taping Game of Thrones the day before, and this was your last appointment before returning to California. To Lizzie.
Part of the cast is sitting next to you, and you are glad for that because you are distracted this evening and can use the time they answer questions to think about your girlfriend. And you miss her for sure.
Graham, the host, asked questions about the final season, and about day to day life on set, and after Kit Harington and Emilia Clarke commented on everything being amazing, and not telling anything about the plot since they weren't allowed to, you were slightly surprised that the subject shift went directly to the romance rumors between the cast.
"I hear that some of you have been becoming close friends outside the set." Graham begins with a chuckle, and you and the cast share a chorus of dissatisfaction that makes the audience laugh. "Which is normal in a long series of course. But we wanted to bring that in because we love gossip."
"Since I'm married, can I have a drink in the dressing room?" Kit jokes, drawing laughter from everyone.
"You're supposed to help us with the arguments". Graham replies humorously. He leans back in his chair slightly to point to the monitor behind him. "We have some behind-the-scenes photos here. And Miss Clarke looks very comfortable."
The audience laughed at the comment, and you tried to cover it up with an awkward laugh. It was a picture of Emilia Clarke, your colleague who plays Daenerys Targaryen, on your lap. But the moment was badly misinterpreted. The photo was taken right after one of the prom rehearsal scenes, and Emilia had gotten one of the coordinations wrong, and you laughed when she fell on you.
Of course, this kind of insinuation was happening because to the media, you two were two single women. And you were used to this kind of questioning, but still, it was always uncomfortable.
"We were dancing, Graham." Emilia argues humorously. "It's not what it looks like."
The audience lets out a chorus of disappointment, and you and Emilia giggle awkwardly.
"Was that the mating dance, ladies?" Graham teases and you want to dig a hole in the ground, but all you do is keep up with everyone's laughter. "Despite all the jokes, I think Marvel's couple is going to be threatened."
The comment makes your heart race, but the audience is very approving, applauding heartily.
At least with this you can talk about Elizabeth.
"Is tonight the night you are going to take over America's dream relationship or can we just keep saying that you and Emilia are together, since there is not the slightest chance that someone that attractive is single." Graham tells you with humor making the audience and cast laugh. You try to keep up, not wanting to seem rude. You wish you could tell him that there is nothing wrong with being single, but you don't think you want to create an awkwardness so you just settle back in your seat as you joke:
"Unfortunately I will deny it again, Graham" You reply. "And I'm not dating Emilia either, I assure you."
You spend the rest of the evening dodging the comments, and are exhausted by the time the interview is over.
"Hey, are you going back to the hotel already?" Kit asks you just as you walk back to the dressing rooms, and you deny it with your head.
"No chance, I'm leaving." You reply. "I'm going straight to the airport, I have a flight in two hours. What about you, Harington? Aren't you going home to see your wife?"
"I didn't know we were talking about wives." He jokes making you blush and look away. Kit didn't know about Lizzie, but he knew you had someone. "Of course I want to come home, but I still have some appointments here. And Rose is in Spain."
"That sucks, man." You comment and he murmurs in agreement, shrugging.
"Yeah, but longing sure makes the sex better." He retorts with amusement and you grimace before laughing.
"You're unbelievable." You joke before waving yourself off in farewell, turning in the direction of your dressing room.
As soon as you enter, you take your cell phone out of your pocket and try to call Lizzie, but it goes to voicemail. You leave a message saying that you can't wait to see her and get your things ready to leave.
After saying goodbye to the cast again, and taking a taxi to the airport, you receive a message, but it is not from Lizzie.
*Sara evil agent* sent you an attachment.
You frown at the matter. "Off-screen romance? Would GOT star Emilia Clarke be dating queer Marvel protégé?"
You call Sara the same minute.
"I literally said I wasn't dating her!" You complain as soon as she answers and hear Sara laugh on the other end.
"Oh, honey, I told you, the media loves a little gossip." She says. "And you need to stop setting up fake girlfriends so quickly, I can barely keep up."
You grumble in irritation and your agent lets out a giggle.
"Don't be so grumpy, it's just a rumor and the last time I checked you were a single woman so I don't see a problem." She says and you bite the inside of your cheek. Since your lack of excitement about GOT, Sara suspects something. Neither of you says anything, but you know she's not an idiot and figures you have a girlfriend. "Are you going back to LA already?"
"Yes, I'm catching my flight in an hour."
"I hope you're ready to record, Lady Vision." She jokes. "Your scene schedule is getting closer."
"I plan to rest this week." You warn, slightly distracted. "Game of Thrones really was something different."
"I just hope people like the ending."
You giggle and Sara wants to know why, but you don't give her any spoilers. After asking if everything was okay, and assuring her that you had eaten something before the interview, you hang up.
Lizzie didn't text you back and you fell asleep on the plane.
//-//-//-//-//
California, three years and eleven months ago.
Your heart was beating so fast that you could hear it in your ears.
But Lizzie's hand in yours was doing a good job of calming you down.
Maybe it was just because you had waited, or maybe it was because you were so much in love, but you don't remember feeling so nervous about the idea of having sex with someone. Not since your first time.
And well, now with Lizzie, it was actually only the first time you two were going to sleep together. You didn't have to be nervous, but you were.
Liz opened the bedroom door as soon as you two reached the room, and dragged you inside with her. You closed the wood as you entered.
The tension was palpable in the air, and you wondered if you stayed still long enough, she might hear your heartbeat.
You looked at her, your eyes locked on each other, and a shy smile on your lips as you approached, stopping inches from her body.
Lizzie holds her breath.
"Are you nervous?" You ask in a husky voice, raising your free hand to go around the length of her arm with your finger, admiring the way her skin shivers at your touch.
She just shakes her head and you smile, resting your hand on her cheek.
"It's just me." You comment as you lean your forehead against hers, and you both close your eyes in anticipation. "We can stop if you're not sure..."
"I'm sure." She interrupts half breathlessly, her hand tightening its grip before letting go of yours, so that she brings both hands to the sides of your neck. "Are you sure?"
"Yes." You assure before breaking the distance, bringing your mouths together in a firm kiss that draws a sigh from both of you as your hands move up to Lizzie's waist.
It doesn't take long for the kiss to deepen, your tongues fighting together and the sensation making your head spin and your body heat up.
Lizzie gasped against your mouth before parting for breath, and you used the opportunity to let your fingers run down to the hem of her shirt as you pulled it up. In motion the piece was off, and she copied the same to remove your blouse.
You bit your lip as you looked at the sight of Lizzie's exposed torso in front of you, her nipples hardening in the air making you feel the tightness beneath your stomach increase.
You lunged forward, grabbing her left breast with your mouth, and Lizzie let out a loud noise in her throat, throwing her head back as your tongue skirted her left nipple.
She was so hot and smelled so good, and the sounds she was making were driving you insane.
You moved your hands up to her breasts as soon as you brought your mouths together again, your tongue circling hers as you played with her hardened nipples, and it wasn't long before Lizzie began to whimper, closing her legs and thrusting her hips towards yours for more friction.
You smiled against her lips, you would give her exactly what she needed.
//-//
California, one year and nine months ago.
Leaving your keys on the counter, you were surprised by the silence as you entered.
It wasn't that you wanted Lizzie to stay late to wait for you, except that it was exactly what you wanted.
You left your bag on the living room floor and called her name twice before assuming she was asleep.
Sighing slightly, you went up the stairs to your room, but it was empty. All the other rooms were empty, which made you frown.
Okay, you didn't expect Elizabeth not to be home just the day you were returning, after months of not seeing each other.
But you didn't have much time to think about what might have happened, because a clearly drunk Lizzie stumbled into the house, fighting against the lock and her own balance just as you were coming down the stairs.
"You're drunk?" You ask in a voice in a mixed tone of disbelief and concern upon seeing her, and Lizzie is startled for a moment before giggling.
"Look who's here, California!" She announced to the room with irony and with open arms, stumbling inside. "Hollywood's most eligible bachelorette, watch out ladies and gentlemen."
You frowned at the little scene, Lizzie walked with difficulty to the kitchen as you finished going down the steps, she murmured quietly and you with your arms crossed, trying to understand exactly what was going on.
"What happened to you?" you ask as you follow her across the room, Lizzie takes off her shoes with difficulty, almost falling to the floor at least twice. When you make mention of helping her, she holds up her hand for you not to, and you are starting to get worried.
"I went to have fun." She replies with a humorless laugh. "I can have fun."
"Of course you can." You retorted with a raised eyebrow, watching Lizzie take a deep breath and close her eyes as she leaned her back on the countertop, probably getting a headache from the way she buried her face in both hands for a moment. "Who did you go with?"
"I don't know, Mom." She sneered wryly, and you clenched your jaw. Lizzie laughed at your expression, and pouted. "Oh, did I upset you? Sorry, darling, I'll try to be a good girl for you."
You shook your head slightly.
"Babe, what is happ..."
"Don't call me that." She cuts off quickly and you look at her in surprise. Lizzie closes her eyes and takes a deep breath and when she looks at you again, she has thick tears in her eyes and you feel your heart soar. "I saw the pictures on television, Y/N. I saw the pictures, I saw your interview, I saw the videos on instagram. And I guess I understand, because she's beautiful and we haven't seen each other in months but I thought you loved me..."
"wow, what are you talking about?" You interrupt, confused and frightened, and Lizzie looks like a complete mess. She is crying and you reach up to touch her face, and try to calm her down. "Babe, breathe, I don't understand."
She whimpers softly, and you wonder how much booze she really has consumed.
"You are going out with that woman and I love you and everything is horrible." She declares in a whiny voice and you look at her with a frown.
"Lizzie, what..."
But she pushes you and walks off toward the bedroom, and you try to keep her from falling over drinking at least three times until she can get up the stairs properly.
"Lizzie, wait, talk to me." You beg but she keeps walking and you enter the bedroom a moment after her, watching her walk to the closet and start throwing all her clothes out while mumbling about cheating.
You take a deep breath with your hands on your waist, letting out a humorless laugh. It was an absurd scene to say the least.
"Elizabeth Olsen, stop this immediately!" You command as soon as she steps out of the closet, and she widens her eyes slightly as she shifts the weight of her feet before veering to the floor. You sigh as you walk toward her. "Babe, look at me."
"No."
"Lizzie."
Reluctantly, she does so. You soften your expression, feeling your heart soar at the image of her face, longing invading your whole heart.
"God, I missed you." You confess half breathlessly and Lizzie looks on the verge of tears. "Darling, where did all this come from? I'm not seeing any other girl."
"I saw the pictures..."
"Lizzie." You interrupt seriously, shaking your head slightly as your hands land on her shoulders. "I have no one but you. I would never cheat on you, I don't know where that came from. I wish you hadn't drunk so much so we could have a serious talk."
Lizzie gives a mischievous little smile, her gaze half lost because of the alcohol.
"I'm not drunk." She mumbles clearly intoxicated, making you chuckle slightly.
"Of course not." You said as you pushed the loose strands of her hair behind her ears. "You made a mess in the bedroom, babe. Why don't you try to sleep while I clean up?"
Lizzie sighed, clearly tired but shaking her head in denial
"I don't want to sleep." She said as she brought her body closer to you, her hands squeezing your shirt. "I want you to fuck me."
You bit back a smile, looking at Lizzie with a raised eyebrow.
"Oh, yeah?"
She murmured in agreement, her fingers trying to open the buttons of your shirt, but she was clearly in no condition to do so.
"I'd like that too, but you're drunk." You say as you move your hands to hold hers, smiling at the grumble of frustration she lets out. "Go lie down, I'll get some water."
"But..."
"Bed, Lizzie." You ordered again as you intertwined your hands to lead her to lie down.
She was reluctant a few times but eventually agreed and lay her down on the mattress, placing the comforter on top.
When you made mention of getting up, she held your hand.
"Don't go." She asked softly with her eyes almost closed. You smiled.
"Aren't you thirsty?"
Lizzie denied and pulled your hand, you moved closer to lie beside her and she wasted no time in entwining her body in yours.
You let your fingers run through her hair and she sighed lightly, not taking long to fall asleep. You waited a few more minutes before moving, getting out of bed as gently as possible so as not to wake her.
After collecting the clothes Lizzie had thrown across the room and putting them away in the closet, as well as putting the party clothes she was wearing in the wash, you went back downstairs, looking for your bag to take to your room.
Your cell phone vibrated as you walked up the stairs.
It was a message from Scarlet, and you laughed lightly as you read its content.
“I heard you're coming home today, right? Lizzie was really upset about the rumors that you were dating, and asked me to take her out for a drink. I dropped her off at home, but she was pretty shaky. I didn't know you two had a thing, can we talk about it over coffee tomorrow?”
You were relieved that Scarlett was the person accompanying Lizzie, but now she knew you two had something. You were tired of it honestly. The secret. All you wanted was for everyone to know how much you loved Lizzie. And judging from recent events, that was a problem for her too. Or at least it was enough for her to drink more than she should.
But you would have to wait until Lizzie woke up to have this conversation, so you went back to your room, and after putting away the clothes from your bag, you took a shower and put on your pajamas, wasting no time in joining Lizzie in bed again.
//-//-//
Caribbean, one year and six months ago.
Following the music, you continued to dance slowly, your hand around Lizzie's waist while the other was entwined in the air with hers.
The luxury hotel where you were staying that week was hosting a Hawaiian themed evening, and well, after spending the day in the pool area, you decided to dance a little.
In that moment, with Lizzie in your arms, you were at peace completely. Moments like these, like waking up with her in your bed, or cooking together, or rehearsing your lines while curled up on the couch under the blanket were more than enough to make you sure that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with Lizzie.
You smiled before pulling your body away slightly, just to look at her. And she looked back at you with the same adoration, her cheeks flushing slightly.
You spun her into your arms then, making her laugh as you pulled her back, your hands resting on her neck as your hips swayed to the rhythm of the ukulele of the band playing on the stage.
There were a few other couples around, but you could hardly notice anyone but Lizzie.
You continued dancing, and you rested your forehead on hers, closing your eyes and breathing in her perfume. Lizzie smiled, stealing a quick kiss before resting her chin on your shoulder, following the rhythm of the dance.
When the show ends, you follow the crowd in the clapping for a moment before Lizzie entwines your hands and pulls you toward the bar.
"That was fun." She comments with cheeks flushed from the dance, her smile soft as you stand near each other, your hands intertwined as you reach for the menu.
"Dancing with you always is." You retorted charmingly, releasing her hand only to fit it against your waist, drawing a chuckle from Lizzie.
You ended up sharing some drinks and snacks, and you were starting to feel higher with each sip.
Lizzie was in the middle of a joke when you interrupted her.
"Marry me?"
She blinked in surprise, a confused chuckle escaping her lips.
"What?"
Maybe it was the drinking. Probably not, because with the emerald eyes looking so intently, you suddenly felt very sober. Your heart raced too, but you were never more sure of anything than you were now.
"Marry me." You repeat with a confident smile. Lizzie blushes with wide eyes.
"You... Are you serious?" She asks in surprise, and you let out a sigh, moving closer to take her hands and put them down on your racing heart.
"I love you." You tell her with nothing but sincerity. "I want to spend my life with you. I was planning something bigger, perhaps, at your parents' summer house. I would get down on one knee in front of your family and hand over the ring I've been carrying for three months." You confess and watch her look at you in shock. "I've been waiting for the right moment, Lizzie. But I've just realized that every second with you is the right moment. I want you to be my wife. Do you want me to be yours?"
It took a second for her to react, her expression changing from shock to pure happiness, the tears appearing in her eyes and the smile so big it made her eyes small.
"Yes, yes, of course." She replied between one shy laugh and another, moving forward to kiss you over and over again.
You couldn't stop smiling as you kissed her, and you giggled against each other's mouths, pulling apart to embrace each other.
It didn't take long for the people around the bar to notice and start clapping, but you didn't care.
All you were seeing was your future wife.
//-//-//-//
California, 1 year and 9 months ago.
You finished putting the coffee jug on the tray, the last missing item, before carrying it to your room, taking careful steps not to trip over anything on the way.
Lizzie was already awake, but still in bed. The glass of water in her hands and the missing pill on her bedside table indicated that she was already treating her hangover.
"Good morning, darling." You greeted as you entered, walking over to the bed to leave the platter on top of the sheet next to Lizzie.
"You're home." She commented in a mixture of surprise and embarrassment, you just made a noise with your mouth as she sighed, running her hand over her face, probably because of her headache. "When did you get home?"
"Last night." You respond by watching her. "Just before you."
"Sorry." She says moving closer. You gently pull away from her attempt to kiss her lips, and Lizzie frowns. "What?"
"I was worried." You state seriously. Lizzie lets out a sigh, leaning her back against the bed completely. "I thought you were going to pick me up at the airport, but you didn't call. And then I find the house empty. Until you arrived, completely drunk at dawn."
Lizzie crossed her arms, looking away. It was your turn to sigh.
"What's happening, Elizabeth?"
"It 's nothing."
"Elizabeth."
"Stop it." She asks impatiently, turning her face to you again. "Don't call me that."
You just frown in confusion. "It's your name."
"No." She exclaims annoyedly, closing her eyes for a moment. "You only call me Elizabeth when you're angry. And you can't be angry at me because I have the right to go out!"
You watch her stand up, as if running away from the conversation, and you sigh impatiently, massaging your temple with your finger. Lizzie begins to remove her dress, clearly intent on going to take a shower.
"I never said you had no right to go out, Elizabeth." You retort ignoring the annoyed grunt she lets out at you continuing to call her by her full name. "I just think I have the right to ask why after we agreed on something, you changed plans at the last minute and decided to disappear."
"It's funny that you want to demand something from me when you've spent the last few months without giving me any satisfaction of where or who you were with!" She accuses angrily and you grimace in indignation.
"Oh, so it's about my work?" You retort angrily. "The last time I checked we had decided that I was going to record and come home. You said you were fine with that!"
Lizzie gave a humorless laugh, her dress falling to her feet as she worked to remove her bra.
"Well, you know what, I wasn't!" She shouts angrily, throwing the bra angrily into the closet. You need to remember that you are angry with her as you have the vision of her breasts exposed in front of you while she is yelling at you. "I didn't agree to the endless get-togethers with all those sluts around you! And I sure didn't agree with your flushed face on television flirting with Emilia Clarke in front of the whole country!"
You stared at Lizzie in shock, but she just grunted in irritation before turning to go to the bathroom.
"No, I think it's so funny you bring that up, you know, Elizabeth." You spoke aloud as you stood up to follow her. "Because when I said Aubrey Plaza was flirting with you, you told me it was just business. But suddenly, Emilia is something that bothers you!"
"God, this is so different from Aubrey!" she retorts in irritation, finally naked, before stepping into the shower. You were beginning to find it hard to remember why you were fighting now that you had the view of her wet silhouette in the shower stall, as she raised her voice to be heard beyond the sound of the water. "We were supposed to be flirting in the interviews, it was all for the movie. You were just falling all over Emilia for no reason. All those smiles and giggles." She declares angrily, making you bite back a smile. Lizzie naked, angry and jealous was hot as hell.
"I really can't believe we are having this conversation." You complain as you unbutton your pajama shirt. "The most absurd part of it all is you thinking I would have anything with anyone else."
"You say these things but don't live up to them with your actions." She retorts, annoyed. "I wouldn't think anything of it if you didn't flirt with other people!"
"I didn't flirt with anyone!" You return defensively, your blouse finally coming off. Lizzie's annoyed expression almost falters, but she keeps her gaze above your breasts as you take off your pants. "And honestly, none of this would be happening if everyone knew we were dating!"
Lizzie frowns, her anger finally dissipating with your sentence. You step into the shower stall with her, and she looks at you dubiously.
"You...you want to go public?" She asks, studying you as the water falls on her back. You swallow dryly, keeping yourself in front of her.
"Only if you want to."
Lizzie holds out her hand for you to take, and when you do, she pulls you gently until your breasts are almost touching.
"Do you think we're ready for that?" She whispers as your foreheads lean against each other. You sigh as you rest your hands on her waist.
"With you, I'm ready for anything, Lizzie."
She sighs against your lips, her hands moving up to your neck.
"I can't think about that with you naked in front of me." She mumbles before moving forward against his lips.
Kissing shouldn't feel this good.
You slide your tongue over hers a moment later, and you both sigh in need, feeling the effects of so much time apart. Your hands move down to her ass, squeezing the flesh and forcing her against you, and the direct contact of exposed skin makes Lizzie whimper.
You press her against the glass of the shower stall, feeling the shower water against your back as you hold your mouths together in a passionate, hungry kiss.
When air was needed, you ran your kisses down your girlfriend's exposed collarbone, enjoying the way she sighed in anticipation, her hand moving up to the back of your neck to encourage you.
"God, I missed you." You sighed before sucking on the sensitive spot on her collarbone, making Lizzie whimper as she dug her nails into your shoulder.
She pulled your face back to hers, kissing you urgently, and you pressed your body against hers, your hands moving down to her thighs and up so that she entwined her legs around your waist.
The contact of your exposed intimates together made you both gasp in the kiss, but you slid your tongue against hers again, savoring her taste as your hands moved up to her breasts, squeezing and cupping them with a full palm, your fingers playing with her hardened nipples and making Lizzie sigh wetly.
"What is it baby?" you teased when she was unable to keep up the pace of the kiss, throwing her head back as she felt your hands pressing her breasts hard, and Lizzie grunted as she bit her lips to keep from moaning, looking up at you with dark eyes, clearly struggling to keep her expression impassive. You smiled, pressing your hips forward and watching her close her eyes tightly, unable to contain a low moan that escaped her throat. "I want to hear you, baby."
"I'm still mad at you." She declares in an affected voice, and you murmur in understanding, lowering your face to her collarbone, and licking and kissing the skin, making her shiver.
"Is this angry sex, then?" You sneer as you move your hips forward again, the sensation bringing a rising wave of pleasure to both of you. "It doesn't seem like it."
Lizzie sighs impatiently, and puts her legs on the floor, pushing you away by your shoulder.
You are so stunned by the sudden break in contact that you barely have time to absorb her turning off the shower before she pulls you by the hand out of the stall.
You were about to ask what she was going to do, but she pushed you onto the bed, and disappeared into the closet.
"Lizzie?" You called out uncertainty, preparing your apology speech for what exactly you couldn't say. But she walked out next, and the sight made your mouth go dry. "Damn."
Elizabeth was wearing a strap-on, the rubber penis already fitted in the front and ready for use. And from the determined expression on her face, she was more than willing to prove to you that she was pissed.
"Fuck me." You breathed aroused by the view, and Lizzie gave a wry chuckle as she approached the bed.
"Oh, I will." It was her only warning before she broke the distance, kissing you fervently, her tongue exploring your mouth and pulling the air from your lungs, making you see stars.
You let out a low moan, moving your hands up to her waist to pull her to you, but Lizzie pushed your hands away, breaking the kiss and moving one hand up to your neck, squeezing lightly as she made you look at her.
"Knees, ass up." She commanded in a husky voice, her gaze glittering with lust, you bit your lips to keep from moaning again, feeling your pussy pulsate with desire as you obeyed, turning on the bed quickly as Lizzie positioned herself behind you. "I'll teach you not to flirt with other girls."
"I was n-fuck." Your speech turned into an horsy whimper as she suddenly penetrated you with the dildo, you were so wet that she had no problem at all, the toy slipping into your folds with ease, filling you completely. Lizzie chuckled breathlessly, her hands steadying your hips.
"God, you're so hot." She murmured, moving slowly inside you, the action making you clench your fists in the sheets and arch your back, your pussy clenching against the dildo.
"Fuck, Lizzie."
She thrust again, this time hard, her hands squeezing your hips as she went deep inside, making you moan loudly.
Before establishing a rhythm, she leaned against you, her hand coming up to your hair and pulling you back as she brought her mouth to your ear.
"You are mine." She whispered before she thrust hard inside you, making you moan. "Do you understand?"
"Not quite yet, try harder." You teased breathlessly, the pleasure at having the dildo all the way inside you making you half dizzy. Lizzie grunted angrily, this time stroking even harder, making you see stars as you whimpered, your body beginning to tremble.
"Quit being a brat or I'm going to fucking stop." She warned against your ear, thrusting more slowly this time, and you moaned breathlessly, barely able to keep your eyes open.
Lizzie set a slow pace, but thrusting hard as you moaned and whimpered, every time the dildo entered you making you even wetter and aroused, to the point that you were unable to hold back the loud moans, and she giggled.
"Look at you, a horny, begging mess." She sneered against your ear. "You are mine, and only mine."
She whispered, her strokes deep inside you. "I want you to remember that when you flirt with other girls. How good I make you feel."
You whimpered, your pussy clenching against the dildo for more, Lizzie keeping the strokes torturously slow. Seeing your state, she laughed softly, pulling out of you completely.
Before you had time to complain, she turned you over on the bed, spreading your legs as she bent down, thrusting deep inside you. Your moan died against her lips as she kissed you hard, laying against you as she buried the dildo inside you.
You could feel Lizzie everywhere. Her breasts against you, her lips on yours, and it was too much. She thrust hard again, deep and fast as you had your legs around her waist, and her tongue on yours, and you began to tremble in spasms, pleasure spreading throughout your body.
Lizzie smiled against your lips as you lost the ability to respond to the kiss, moaning and whimpering at the closeness of your climax. Her mouth moved down to your neck as she kept up the pace of the thrusts inside you, and your hands tightened around her waist, pulling on her hips for more friction.
It wasn't long before you fell over the edge, the tightness under your belly exploding, the pleasure spreading to the tips of your feet as you moaned against Lizzie's ear, crumbling under her.
As you tried to normalize your breathing after such an intense orgasm, she straightened to look at you, her eyes had adoration in them.
"You did so good." She praised against your lips. "Did you learn your lesson?"
"I did." You replied in a husky voice, taking a deep breath to control the effects of climax.
In one swift motion, you spun you two around on the bed, sighing as you felt the toy move inside you.
"Now you will learn to honor your appointments, Miss Olsen." You warned as your hands moved down to the latches of the strap, removing it as Lizzie bit her lips, looking at you with a mischievous gaze.
You shifted to remove the strap and toss the toy on the floor, returning to sit on Lizzie's lap, your mouth returning to hers immediately.
When she began to move beneath you, you smiled against her lips, pulling away as you rested your forehead against hers and let your fingers play with her wet entrance.
"Use your mouth." She asked breathlessly, her nails digging into your arm.
"My baby wants my mouth?" You teased, moving forward to lick her lips and pulling away with a short laugh when she moaned as she chased your mouth unsuccessfully. You circled her clitoris with your fingers, and Lizzie gasped. "The next time you want to get drunk, at least text me, my love." You warned as you penetrated her with two fingers at once, feeling her hot and slippery, while Lizzie moaned loudly against your mouth. "Do you understand?"
You removed your fingers, playing with her entrance until she nodded frantically, pushing her hips toward your hand. But you laughed lightly, pulling your hand away completely, and leaving her with a confused expression.
"I thought you wanted my mouth." You scoff, already ducking, as Lizzie looks at you expectantly.
"God, you always fuck me so good." Lizzie comments as you kiss her thighs, moving down. You smile against her skin, finally reaching her pussy.
You stare at her before moving forward, your tongue against her clitoris as she sighs with need.
"Don't torture me." She begs breathlessly, her wrists locked on the bed, you smile, lingeringly licking her, and she closes her eyes tightly.
"I won't, my love." You assure her before returning your mouth to her pussy, kissing her entrance before you begin to suck and lick, devouring her with desire.
She moans loudly, letting out affected sighs with each movement of your tongue inside her, and you hold her thighs to keep her open for you as you eat her out.
It doesn't take long for Lizzie to reach her edge, already near the limit from fucking you, but it's still delicious to have her crumbling against your mouth like a weeping mess, her orgasm on your tongue as she screams your name.
You climb your body back up onto her, and kiss her tenderly, unlike anything so far.
Lizzie is trying to control her breathing from the climax, but sighs in satisfaction as she tastes herself on your tongue.
As silence falls over you, you sigh lightly, your hands caressing her face.
"Are we okay, Lizzie?" You ask as you settle down to lie across from each other. She leans into the touch of your hands, as her hands come up to your waist.
"I don't know." She confesses. "But I want us to be."
You smile, using your finger to take a strand of hair from her face and tuck it behind her ear.
"Do you think going public will make us better?"
"I don't want to love you in secret anymore." She says and you feel your heart soar. "Do you understand?"
You smile. "Yes, babe. I feel the same way."
She gives a relieved smile, her gaze passionate. You break the distance, and kiss her gently.
When you break the kiss a moment later, you look quickly at your bodies. "I think we should have this conversation with clothes on." You comment and Lizzie giggles.
"Later. Now I show how much I missed you in my bed." She says before bringing your lips together again.
You certainly wouldn't object to that.
//-//-//
Atlanta, three years ago.
You hesitated at the entrance to the restaurant.
Through the window you could see Lizzie, and all your cast mates, as it was the closing celebration of the WandaVision filming.
You swallowed hard, the object in your pocket suddenly becoming too heavy.
You startled slightly when you felt a hand on your shoulder.
"I guess we're both late, huh?" Kathryn Hahn, your cast mate, remarked gently, putting her car keys away in her pocket clearly having arrived right with you.
You gave her a lopsided smile and she noticed your hesitation, assuming a worried expression.
"Everything okay?" She asked.
You shifted your gaze to the window again, watching Lizzie giggle shyly, her gaze shining slightly. She looked around too, searching, and you knew it was for you.
"Yeah, I just...I was just having a moment of doubt." You say still looking at Lizzie. Kathryn followed your gaze, and smiled, but didn't comment on it.
You sighed, reaching into your pocket and pulling out the object.
"Wow, are you going to...?" Kathryn asked in surprise but you gave a humorless laugh.
"No, I couldn't." You say swallowing dryly, and looking away from the velvet box. "I don't know if I'm ready."
"And when either of us are?" Kat returned, making you smile.
"How did you know you were going to say yes to your husband?" You asked next. Kathryn sighed thoughtfully.
"I didn't." She replied. "There's no way to know until you get asked. But what I did know was that I loved him. And that's what really matters."
You absorbed her words in silence, and then put the box back in your pocket.
"I think she loves me." You say. "That will be enough until I find the right moment."
Kat murmurs in understanding, and then pushes her shoulder against yours lightly.
"Just don't wait too long." She warns with a smile, nodding her head signaling for the two of you to enter the restaurant and join the rest of the team.
When you enter, any thoughts of Lizzie denying your marriage proposal are driven out by the image of her contented smile when she sees you arrive.
//-//-//-//
A/F/N> I'm not even gonna try to say this is the last time i'm continuing this work because at this point, I just know I don't believe my own words anymore haha. Tell me what you think people.
Tag> @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia || @mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch / @idek-5 // @myperfectlovepoem // @helloalycia // @ENSORCELLME // @AIMEZVOUSBRAHMS // @drpepperobsessed // @sighsam // @olsensnpm // @sxfwap // @table57 // @madamevirgo // @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo // @emptysince18x // @xastrydx || @yuhloversxx || @ymzki-haruki || @wouldirunofftheworldsomeday || @lostandsearching || @lezzzbehonesthere || @musicinourlips || @chaekhan || @diaryoflife || @nervoustrack || @aquamarinescarlet || @cristin-rjd || @idamaemann || @fortunatelynerdylight
#elizabeth olsen#elizabeth olsen x reader#elizabeth olsen x yn#Elizabeth Olsen x Reader#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff x yn#elizabeth olsen x !bottom reader#dom lizze#dom!elizabeth olsen#avengers imagines#brat reader#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff imagines#elizabeth olsen smut
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So happy your requests are open and I don't mind the wait at all!
I just really want to see a sweet quirkless omega going into heat and sending her alpha Overhaul (Kai Chisaki) into a hard rut and he just pins her to a wall and fucks the life out of her before taking her to the bedroom to knot her.
but you do know that it would 100% be like "hate sex" on Chisaki's part (even though he kinda do like it lol)
(Kinda overhaul x reader x chrono btw but only for a little bit)
Just. Overhaul being able to tolerate you being kept at his compound because one, you're his mate, whether he likes it or not.
Two, you're quirkless.
And three? You don't bother him, you stay out of the way and you have passable hygiene when compared to Chisaki's standards.
But that has to be thrown out the window the second Chrono hauls you into Chisaki's office, the man in charge of watching you when Chisaki isn't around flustered and pink around his ears.
"B-boss, your omega, she's-"
"What the fuck is that smell." Chisaki growls, eyes immediately snapping to your trembling form. Taking in the way you're gasping, sweaty, barely able to stand even with Chrono's hand tight around your bicep and holding you up.
For some reason, the sight of Chrono touching you makes Chisaki itch. Odd, that usually wouldn't bother him.
The smell is cloying; too intense and too sweet, it makes his throat burn and his skin crawl.
"I think she's in-"
"Please, it hurts." You choke out, cutting off Chrono. "Need... I need-"
Chisaki recoiled as the scent got stronger, clouding his senses, making him feel... Chisaki didn't even know. Excited? Tingly?
Uncomfortable - he decided.
"Get her out. Give her a bath too, she smells disgusting." He commanded, but Chrono stepped forward instead of back out the door.
"Boss, she's in heat."
Heat?
Oh.
Overhaul cringed.
Logically, he knew it was going to happen eventually. But on the other hand, he had hoped his omega would be different. you was already quirkless, already pure... surely it wouldn't be too far of a stretch to assume that you wouldn't be affected by the mindless heat-addling that Omega's all seemed to undergo?
His irritation was rising.
"So?"
Chrono looked at his boss with questioning eyes, unsure what to do with the omega becoming increasingly more distressed at his side.
"You'll get her over it." Chisaki decides, ignoring the bitter taste that floods his mouth as he utters those words. His eyes slide over you again, lip curling into a disgusted sneer.
"Messy thing."
Chrono is frozen in disbelief. But this isn't a test of his loyalty, Chisaki truly doesn't want to deal with the germs and the mess and the cleanup associated with omega's during their heats. Slick everywhere, pheromones staining the room, needy hands touching everywhere-
"Sit her down on the couch." He instructs his second-in-command, rising from his office chair and stepping around his desk so he can close the door. "I want to make sure you don't damage her."
That's the only reason. Only reason he wants to be present and watching while Chrono fucks you through your heat.
"You're serious then?" The white-haired man asks, removing the plague mask he wears while inside the compound, thus beginning the process of disrobing.
Chisaki waved his hand idly, resuming his position in his office chair with a tired sigh. "It'd be such a chore for me to do it myself. Aren't you an alpha yourself Chrono? You should be jumping at the chance to bed a nice quirkless omega."
Chrono shrugs off his white coat, looking up from where you're panting on the couch while he stands in front of you, eyes finding his boss. "I wouldn't want to overstep my boundaries with your property."
The brunette smiles, not that anyone can see, but it's clear he's pleased by the crinkle near his eyes, the relaxed way he slumps in his chair. "And that's why you're my favorite Chrono."
You're wearing what you usually wear - long pants, a cozy sweater. Overhaul hasn't heard you complain about the chill in the compound, but it's clear to see it affects you by the way you dress and the way your nose darkens from the cold.
You don't fight the half-naked Chrono as he helps you out of your sweater, unbothered by the temperature of the room and looking entirely too hot and sweaty.
Chisaki supposes it's good that you aren't fighting. You had at first, when he first brought you here, crying and pleading for him to let you go and leave you alone. That pathetic show was quickly shut down with a simple demonstration of Overhaul's quirk, and what he'd do to you if you didn't comply.
Now you're seemingly accepting of the situation, casting nervous glances towards Chisaki, your attention constantly getting stolen by the pale man stripping in front of you.
It takes an embarrassingly short amount of time before Chrono has his cock in you.
And you look completely blissed out, mouth open and letting out choked little gasps on each thrust, one hand desperately trying to hold onto Chrono's shoulder, his arm, his chest - anything you can reach.
The other hand is on your stomach, and Chisaki doesn't understand why until he focuses on it, sees the distention whenever Chrono swings his hips into you.
Chisaki feels himself throb.
The sounds you're making sound like music. Awful music, all discordant and rushed and pornographic, stuttered breaths and pitiful cries, high-pitched and girlish moans in between Chrono's quiet huffs.
The sweet pheromones in the air become sweeter, thicker, and Chisaki can see the direct correlation between the smell and how much slick is dripping out of you, drenching Chrono's pretty cock, his stomach, even splattering his thighs on each thrust as his cock squelches deeper.
It's disgusting.
Digusting but curiously enamoring. Chrono's got you sitting on the couch, pushed up against the back while he fucks you. It's a tall piece of furniture, and Chrono merely hikes his leg up onto the cushions to gain a better angle to fuck you with. Your slick is everywhere; Chisaki knows that couch won't be salvageable after this. Somehow, he doesn't mind.
What he does mind, however, is the way Chrono is speeding up, rhythm stuttering and practically falling apart. He's going to knot you. Chisaki had given him full permission to - that's what taking care of an omega during their heat means, after all. But jealousy is boiling inside him, blood painfully engorging his cock, he feels tingly all over, very unlike himself.
He wants to touch you.
But you're a disgusting mess, smelling sweet and fertile and sweating and dripping everywhere. Chisaki can't believe he's feeling... attracted to you right now.
"O-ohh feels good, r-right there! Yes, thank you,t-than-" You mumble out, drunk on cock as you shudder through an orgasm, cream gushing out of your cunt and further dirtying Chisaki's office.
Chisaki sees red.
He's furious - not only at you, but at Chrono for touching you, and for himself for explicitly allowing it to happen. Chrono's about to knot you, claim you, and Chisaki is out of his chair before he knows what's happening.
"That's enough." And his gloved hands are ripping Chrono away from you, sending the other man reeling as his subordinate struggles to control his alpha instincts and stop himself from fighting his boss, tearing Chisaki to shreds for interrupting his mating.
Chisaki doesn't care, he's too focused on you.
"You're so pathetic." The man hisses at you, crowding into your space. When had he taken off his mask? He wanted to smell more of you.
His gloves are gone too, ripped away in a moment so he can feel your wet skin against his hands, feel the sweat beading your brow before those same fingers snap to undo his pants.
"I hate you, I hate you." He seethes, golden eyes staring at you so intently that you start to cry, overwhelmed with the situation, still craving a knot, craving intimacy and tenderness.
You've reduced him down to barely better than an animal, tearing at his clothes so he can sink into you, closing his eyes at the way you're wet and warm inside, perfect and velvety.
Chisaki doesn't know what's come over him. Normally he'd be disgusted, absolutely incensed at having such filth be in direct contact with his skin. But right now... all he feels is pleasure ripping through his veins, clouding his head, his mind, flushing rational thought down the toilet.
"Stupid, hate you-" his words rattle out on each rapid thrust, breath uneven and labored as his muscles stretch and work to fuck you harder and faster. He's building up to his peak.
One of his hands is fisted in your hair, close to your scalp and keeping you still, the other hand clamped firmly against your hip and making sure you don't wiggle away. Alpha instincts taking over as his brain convinces him to mate, breed, cum.
"You're so fucking dirty." He gasps, voice heated and gravelly as he struggles to fight through the heat taking over his body.
He's going into a rut.
Chisaki isn't supposed to do that. He takes supplements and suppressants to ensure he doesn't have too. Ruts are messy, nasty things to endure, and Chisaki would rather lick the floor of a dirty subway than experience one.
Yet here he is.
"You disgusting, wretched thing-" And you're crying, fat tears mixing with sweat and rolling down your chin. Chisaki feels disgusting himself, wanting to lick the liquid away.
He hasn't felt this good in his entire life, this burning fever pitch rising and rising and cresting, blazing along his nerves.
He can barely thrust his hips anymore, and only then does Chisaki realizes that he's popped his knot, jammed it in deep while you cried and moaned and struggled to hold onto him.
Theres a sick sense of satisfaction filling him up, his mind clears for half a second and Chisaki thinks to look over his shoulder, seeing Chrono still standing there with a soured look on his face, cock still swollen and drippy and bobbing purple against the man's stomach.
"Get out." Chisaki orders, and Chrono knows enough to merely pick up his coat and wrap it around himself before exiting the room. He's never seen his boss like this - so feral and unhinged and debauched like some regular dirty plebeian.
But Chisaki doesn't care. Odd.
He cares about grinding against you, feeling you milk every last drop of cum from his balls, shimmying his hips to hear you gasp and moan and clutch at his body, trembling like a little lamb.
Chisaki doesn't want to stop.
"As soon as my knot goes down-" He growls, lowering his face until it's mere inches from your own, breathing into your space. "I'm going to take you to my room and knot you until you break."
#Chisaki kai#kai#chisaki#overhaul#yandere chisaki#yandere#Yandere Chisaki kai#Yandere overhaul#kai chisaki#tw.nsfw#tw.a/b/o#tw.dubcon#tw.noncon#tw.drugs#alpha overhaul#alpha Chisaki kai#one of you hoes#donated a lot of money to my kofi recently#even tho I barely be writing#like NOTHING#these past two months#and I would just like to sa#whoever it was#I am going to ask#and then if u say yes#cause consent#I’m gonna kiss u on the mouth#then suck ur dick#REAL GOODT#I love u
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The Match - Part 6
Pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary: You deal with the aftermath of your decision.
Word Count: 2.9k
Warnings: There’s a little bit of smut in here, not too filthy though I guess???
A/N: VOILA NO ANGST IN THIS CHAPTER, only tension teehee anyway I hope this doesn’t disappoint and I am looking forward to seeing everyone’s rage about this part lmfaoooo
The Match Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST
The last time you lost sleep was back in your days at the university, when you were working on your thesis. And that was years ago so now that you were wide awake at two in the fucking morning, it was frustrating you.
What was even more frustrating was the fact that you were up because of a guy, and not just any guy— Bucky Barnes.
You didn't know whether you made the right decision of rejecting him like that, without even giving the relationship a damn chance. But you were right, weren't you? That making it official with courtship was going to make your corporate life a living hell.
Perhaps you were overthinking?
You groaned out loud and sat up on your bed, grabbing your phone from the night stand and opening up your messaging app.
I'm sorry. I didn't mean those things that I said.
Delete, delete, delete.
Can we talk again?
Delete, delete, delete.
I already miss you.
"Really, now?" you chuckled to yourself, albeit sarcastically.
When did you ever chase a guy? Never in you entire life did you put your walls down for a fucking guy. What would make Bucky an exception? Sure, he was rich as fuck and handsome as hell but those wouldn't give him an immunity from your pride.
Throwing your phone under your pillow, you decided to stand by your verdict about keeping things professional between you and Bucky.
-
The universe seemed to hate you because aside from losing sleep, you also forgot to set your alarms and now you were running late for the mancom meeting. You really had to confront Bucky like that a day before the meeting, huh?
By the time you reached the conference room, the meeting was already in progress. Heads turned to you upon your arrival, the entire room silent as you whispered your apologies. When you looked around, you realized that the only seat available was the one next to Bucky.
Great, just great!
You could feel his eyes on you as you carefully made your way towards him, mumbling another apology for your tardiness before sitting down. You knew how much Bucky hated it when people were late, whether for a meeting or for a rendezvous. The last time you were late, he denied you of your orgasm when he fingered you in his car.
Was he thinking of the same thing now? If not for last night's discussion, you would probably be bent down on his desk by lunch time. You cleared your throat and squeezed your legs uncomfortably, a gesture that Bucky noticed right off the bat.
You crossed your legs and focused your attention on the presentation until you noticed what Bucky was doing beside you. You tried to be discreet when you checked him out through your peripheral vision; he was leaning back against his seat with his legs wide apart. He seemed to be paying attention to the presentation but then he started stroking his chin in a certain way that made you remember all the times he did that whenever he had his eyes on you.
"Mister Barnes? What do you think about this suggestion?" the head of operations asked.
Bucky hummed lowly as he stroked his lower lip, nodding his head in approval before saying in a rough voice, "I like it."
"I like it."
"Like what?" you asked innocently, lifting a curious brow at Bucky when you entered his office one night in a tight fitting skirt with a slit that showed off the garter of your stockings.
You knew that it was going to drive Bucky insane if you walked around the office wearing something so teasing like that. To hell with the HR, you actually received a memo for wearing such at a workplace but whatever. The reward from Bucky would surely be more than enough to make this decision worth it.
"Playing coy now, are we?" Bucky asked, standing up from his seat and then walking over to you.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Bucky." you teased.
Bucky smirked and kept his eyes on you when he knelt down in front of you, his rough palms sliding against the skin of your thighs before tugging at the edge of your stockings.
"I'll show you what I'm talking about." he said before he bunched up your skirt, licking a stripe against your lace-clad pussy.
You exhaled heavily at the memory and shook your head. Fuck no, you weren't going to give in! You weren't even sure whether Bucky was intentionally teasing you. Nope, definitely not giving in so easily.
-
You survived the entire day, despite being on the receiving end of Bucky's subtle teasing. That motherfucker was testing you alright, you were damn sure of it. He really went to the pantry during lunch, when you were washing your mug at the sink. And he had the audacity to stand behind you, pretending to be reaching for something from the cupboards.
Janet the snitch was there too! Thank fuck she was preoccupied with her salad and didn't notice when Bucky pressed his crotch against your ass, his breath fanning against your neck when he whispered "Excuse me." in that delicious, rough voice of his.
Thinking that you were finally free to head home, you started gathering your things until you received an e-mail from none other than Bucky. It was a little past seven in the evening already and you've submitted all your reports earlier. What does he want now?
Come see me in my office. Now.
Regards,
Bucky Barnes
A surge of electricity coursed through your veins, your entire body going cold and you weren't sure whether you should be nervous or excited. Or aroused, even. You weren't going to lie but you sort of hoped that his e-mail contained another dick pic again, something to let you know that everything was fine between the two of you.
Who were you kidding though, you were the one who asked for this set-up.
You adjusted your skirt and went straight to the elevator, counting the seconds until it reached Bucky's floor. Every step you took towards his office felt heavier and heavier as you neared his door. What does he want?! You couldn't think of anything that he needed to talk to you about.
"Shit. Okay, bitch you got this." you mumbled to yourself before knocking.
Bucky didn't even tell you to come in, he just opened the door and left it ajar as he went back to his seat behind his desk. He seemed agitated but god did he look good. You really needed to get a grip of yourself.
"You need anything, Mister Barnes?" it felt strange to address him like that.
He heaved out a sigh and shrugged, "I'm very disappointed in this report." he said, slamming the folder on top of his desk before looking up at you.
"I don't understand. I followed every instruction and even included charts to make it easier to understand." you explained, slightly offended that he was questioning your hard work.
You worked hard on that report, and he knew how much. Was he power tripping you now?
"That's the thing, you followed every instruction. Sometimes you have to make certain changes, that doesn't mean it's automatically wrong as long as the outcome is the same." Bucky explained.
You narrowed your eyes at him. He was insinuating something and you knew exactly what it was. You preferred not to focus on it and straightened up, trying to play it cool.
"I don't get it." you shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest.
Bucky heaved out sigh, "Come take a look. I'll show you where you went wrong." he said, raising his eyebrow at you, his tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip.
Oh no. Oh fucking no. He was giving you the look. You tried not to falter and maintained your professional behavior. Slowly, you walked around his desk until you stood beside him.
"See this part? Too detailed, I don't need to know about this. I just want to see the results." Bucky explained casually.
"Another thing is the graph you made. It's good, but again, too many details. You see this?" Bucky asked, glancing up at you.
You squinted your eyes, not wanting to stand too close to Bucky. Even from where you were, his perfume was invading your senses. It reminded you of all the times that scent was all that you could smell, especially whenever Bucky was on top of you, fucking your brains out. Or whenever he took you from behind, his face buried into your neck and—
"Are you listening?" Bucky asked.
You cleared your throat, "Yes." you immediately responded.
"Here, take a look at what I'm talking about." Bucky said, casually placing a hand on the small of your back as you bent down to look at your report closely.
It's as if everything happened so fast. You were trying to see what Bucky was talking about when you heard his chair screech against the floor, followed by his strong hands gripping your waist, pulling you down to sit on his lap.
You gasped out loud when you felt his hard cock against your ass. A slight whimper slipped past your lips when Bucky slightly moved, thrusting his hips upward while his hands on your waist kept you still.
"Bucky, fuck I..." you panted.
And then suddenly, the contact was gone and Bucky was pulling you away from him as he stood up. A shit-eating grin plastered on his face as he feigned innocence.
"I'm sorry, I totally forgot. We're supposed to be professional now. That's what you wanted, right?" he asked mockingly, shaking his head and then fixing his suit.
You stood there, gawking at him incredulously at the stunt that he just pulled on you. Did he really just...?
What the fuck?
"Anyway, I want the revised report by my table end of the day tomorrow." he said oh so casually, as if he didn't just pull you down to sit on his fucking lap while he had a damn erection.
He sat back down and continued with his shit as you stood there, disappointed (at yourself actually) and just feeling like a fucking fool.
"I can't believe you just did that." you softly said, turning around to leave.
"Just say you want me and this will all be over." Bucky said.
You looked back at him with a scowl and saw how smug he was staring at you. His lips curled up into a grin, eyes glinting with mischief. You wanted to kiss that fucking smirk off his face, maybe sit on it and ride it until he's out breath, until the skin on your inner thighs burned from how his scruff was scratching against it.
But again, you were too proud to do that.
"Thank you, Mister Barnes. I'll see you tomorrow."
-
What do you call it when a girl is left high and dry? Is there a female version for having blue balls? You needed to know because that was something you've been going through for two weeks now.
Two fucking weeks.
Since that night in Bucky's office, things have gotten worse for you. Bucky wanted you to give in first and damn, he was giving it his fucking all when it comes to making you cave. The man even texted you a shirtless photo of him at the gym. By accident, he said.
And here you thought that the both of you were going to be professional moving forward.
Bucky always teased you whenever he could, made sure that you'd be reminded of the times you spent together. Whether it was with how he spoke or looked at you, he was subtle but he went all out. One time during a meeting, Bucky started to play with his fucking mouse. His middle finger doing things to his scroll wheel, moving back and forth all the while he was staring at you with a sleazy grin.
As if you needed any more reminder how much his fingers felt so much better against your cunt as compared to your own.
-
Friday came quickly and you couldn't be more grateful for it. It had been very busy at the office and Bucky was edging you even without having the need to touch you. You needed a break from him, needed some time to yourself and rethink about the certain decisions you made.
You stood by the elevator, waiting for it to reach your floor when Mark approached you.
"Been a hectic week huh?" he asked, adjusting the strap of his laptop bag on his shoulder.
You sighed, "Very hectic, thank goodness the week is over." you said with a chuckle.
"Any plans for the night?" Mark asked, turning to you.
You shook your head, "Not really. You?"
Mark smiled widely at you, "No plans either. But I do remember you owe me a night at the bar." he reminded you.
You mentally facepalmed because fuck, you totally forgot about that. Mark wasn't so bad actually, he was kind and seemed like a lot of fun to hang out with. You just...you just weren't attractive to him.
Maybe you should give it a try? Just to keep your mind off of Bucky even for a while. That man was driving you insane, honestly.
"Of course, yeah. I remember." you said with an awkward laugh.
"Do you want to go tonight?" he asked at the same time the elevator doors opened.
Lo and behold, Bucky Barnes was inside as well. Fucking hell.
"Mister Barnes." Mark greeted him before gesturing for you to step inside first.
You saw the look that Bucky gave both you and Mark. Suddenly, hanging out with Mark didn't seem like a good idea anymore. You prayed that Mark wouldn't bring it up anymore, at least, while Bucky was inside the elevator.
It felt like you were being ushered into the pits of hell when you stepped inside. Even with Mark's presence, you felt nervous being around Bucky. God knows what this man could do when provoked.
"Anyway, how about tonight?" Mark repeated his question, much to your dismay.
Bucky was standing behind the both of you and yet you could feel his eyes digging holes against the back of your head. He was waiting for your response.
"Come on, you promised me a date." Mark just had to imply.
Bucky coughed and Mark turned to him all of a sudden, "You ever been to the bar down the block, Mister Barnes?" he asked.
"Yes." Bucky curtly responded.
"They serve the best drinks, right? So come on, let me take you there. You won't regret it. What do you think, Mister Barnes?"
Mister Barnes will fucking whoop your ass, Mark, you thought to yourself. You suddenly started sweating bullets, feeling your armpits dampen beneath your blouse because jesus christ, was this really happening? You just wanted for the ground to swallow you up. Should you pretend to faint instead? Just to get out of this awkward situation?
"Yeah, a promise is a promise. Why don't you let Mike take you out tonight?" Bucky said, stepping in between you and Mark.
Mark made a face, "It's actually Mark, Mister Barnes."
Bucky though, kept his attention on you. His expression unreadable but his jaw was tensed. You were so fucked. And not in a good way. He was trying so hard to stay calm but when you glanced down, his hands were balled into fists.
"What do you say to that date with Martin?" Bucky asked again.
Mark lifted a finger, "Mark." he chimed in again.
"Yeah, whatever Michael." Bucky waved him off with his hand before turning back to you. "So, what do you say?"
You swallowed the lump in your throat and looked past Bucky's shoulder to check on Mark, he didn't seem suspicious though. He looked hopeful, actually. But you pitied him because he just made it to Bucky's list of employees to keep an eye on. Aside from Janet, of course.
"I...um..." Fuck it.
"Yeah, okay. A date it is then." you awkwardly said, forcing out the driest laugh you ever produced in your entire life.
Mark excitedly pumped his fist in the air, "Great! Thank you, Mister Barnes. Guess she just needed a little push." he said.
Bucky feigned a smile and nodded, taking a step back from you. "A little push. Yeah, I guess so."
Finally, the elevators reached the ground floor and you were ready to sprint out of it when Bucky said his parting words.
"You enjoy your date with Marty now. Totally nothing unprofessional about dating a co-worker." Bucky told you and before the elevator doors closed, you saw the scowl that appeared on his face.
Shit.
"Mister Barnes is acting weird, don't you think?" Mark asked as the both of you walked out of the building.
You forced a smile and walked ahead of Mark, "Definitely not weird. You know what? I badly need a drink or two, an entire bottle of tequila maybe so let's just go now."
As if on cue, your phone buzzed and the message that showed up made you want to stop in the middle of the street, lay down on your back and await your demise.
You're playing a dangerous game. Well, two can play at that.
-
The Match Special Tags:
@marvelslag @weird-mumbling @propertyofpoeandbucky @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @mostly-marvel-musings @squishybabies @megzdoodle @suchababie @annathesillyfriend @xhollycowx @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @5-seconds-of-mendes @gogolucky13 @countonthesun @iloveshawnieboi @learisa @borikenlove @scarlet-natasha89
Everything Bucky Tag List:
@ddowii @jessou893 @stealapizzamyheart @bagelofthelord @mxnt @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @jeeperky @ohladymacbeth @wildflowergubler @supraveng @twinerd14 @buckysmar @bakugouswh0r3 @sweetcoldharmony @wintersfilm @charminivy @amelia-song-pond @iamvalentinaconstanza @mcubqrnes @im-squished @tcc-gizmachine @sipsteacasually @prettyintopeerpressure @weloveyasmin @est19xxshit @bloodhon3yx @dressed-in-prada @lizette50 @thatfangirl42 @sunflowerbunny2 @unmagically @okiegirl24 @sugarpunch-princess @enlyume @vvipgotbb @slimeyderp @lyoongx @just-deka @nobody-will @jaziona92 @elisebuitron @dpaccione @suvikamahes98blr @buckybarneshairpullingkink @earthtonav @x-judyjude-x @nani-kenobi @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @belladonnabarnes @iloveangstposts @weenersoldierr @asemistablehundredyearoldman @reidbuck @lizzarooni @girlfriday007 @bonkywobble @lost-in-the-stars03 @its-yasbxtch @whoth3hellisbucky
#bbb writes#the match#bucky barnes#bucky#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky x you#bucky barnes smut#bucky smut#sebastian stan
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HELL YEAH I LOVE THIS SUIKAWARI MY HEART THING SHOUTA'S SO T H I R S T Y ok real talk deku absolutely knows who eraserhead is right??? hes an eraserhead fan right???????
"These seem kind of ...short," Izuku can't help but point out, hands coming down to tug futilely at the swim shorts that had somehow replaced his standard blue and yellow Mighty Swim Shorts(TM) he's had for years now. "And tight."
"As god Herself intended," Hitoshi mutters from where he's laid out on the concrete of the changing room floor. "Praise be to Yaomomo."
"Praise be," Izuku automatically echoes out of longstanding habit.
A beat of silence passes between them
"You know that floor is beyond filthy, right?" Izuku can't help but ask.
Hitoshi just peels one bleary eye open and stares up at Izuku silently.
"Fair enough," Izuku agrees as he goes back to fussing with his shorts.
"You nervous?" Hitoshi asks a few seconds later.
"Yeah," Izuku admits sheepishly. "Seems kind of dumb huh? Being so nervous over a charity event like this? But ... what if I look stupid?"
"Not possible," Hitoshi immediately denies.
Izuku loves his friend so much. Getting arrested together with Hitoshi at a rally really was the best thing to happen to him in a long time.
"Very possible," Izuku counters. "Highly probably in fact. Everyone else participating is super cool with super cool moves, with or without their quirk being involved. I'm just ... me."
"Look," Hitoshi says as he eels his way across the floor until he's laying right beside where Izuku's standing. "Just go out there and do exactly what you did at practice. Trust me, it'll go perfectly. Especially since Todoroki's not here to catch the vapors or the drapes on fire."
"Still don't know why the entire group had to come to that practice," Izuku grumbles just a bit. "Or why Momo had to host it. Or why Uraraka recorded it."
"Kirby's making mint by now," Hitoshi mumbles under his breath.
"What?" Izuku asks.
"Nothing," Hitoshi waves his question off lazily as he finally rolls over and pushes himself up onto his feet.
He throws an arm over Izuku's shoulder and rests his sharp chin on the crown of Izuku's head.
"Like I said before," Hitoshi reaches his hand up to poke at Izuku's cheek, "just go out there and be your regular sunshine broccoli self and do what you did at practice night. You've got this."
And by this point all Izuku can do is believe him.
~~~
Crate of watermelons firmly in hand, Izuku bounces just a bit on his toes and focuses on taking deep breaths of fresh ocean air.
Dagobah Beach is still as beautiful now as it was all those years ago when he cleaned it for Toshi-sensei at the start of his apprenticeship.
On the other side of the small, curtained off backstage area the crowd that's gathered is going wild.
Honestly, Izuku would rather be out there watching the Miruko crush watermelons than here waiting for his own turn to go on stage.
But, eventually, is turn does actually come.
"...the showstopper himself, the one, the only, the #1 Can Do Hero Dekiru."
Present Mic's announcement ringing in his ears, Izuku takes one last deep breath, does his best to smile, and moves out into view.
The crowd is deafening and Izuku has to admit that it always makes him feel more than a bit awestruck to have so many people cheering for him. Especially over something that's more than a bit silly even if it's for a collection of good causes.
He shoots the crowd a small wave as he sets his crate down.
"Show us what you've got!" Present Mic demands from somewhere to Izuku's right. "And let's give him some encouragement listeners!"
The crowd begins to chant "De~ki~ru!" and Izuku picks up his first watermelon, determined to follow Hitoshi's advice.
The first and second melons break easily enough, just as they had at practice, but the crowd seems happy.
So Izuku moves onto his third pose, the one that the others had made him repeat a handful of times a few nights ago.
A flex of his thighs and a twist of his hips and his lap's covered in sweet pink flesh and sticky juice.
"Oh god," a voice, low and husky, cuts across the crowd, "I wish that was me right now."
Even as the crowd goes abruptly silent Izuku's attention immediately zeroes in on the source.
He immediately feels his entire soul leave his body.
Because standing there beside Present Mic, arms crossed over his chest and face blank, is Eraserhead.
The Eraserhead.
The same Underground Hero Izuku's been a huge fan of since the moment he found out he existed. The notorious hell teacher of UA whose very name sends shivers of fear down the majority of his friend group's spine.
The same Eraserhead who was Hitoshi's mentor.
And who Izuku may or may not have a strange, second-hand sort of not-crush on.
In his defense, Hitoshi's stories about his mentor are always highly entertaining to Izuku. And what he's learned about Eraserhead through his friend just makes Izuku think the man is someone he'd really like to get to know.
Which is what makes being here, topless, covered in watermelon juice, and with an actual audience to witness the semi-sexual remark Eraserhead had just made about him, a special kind of torture.
Because Izuku's never admitted it to anyone, and especially not Hitoshi, but Eraserhead lines up pretty closely with what Izuku would consider his type.
The man understands heroics, and according to his capture and expulsion rate and Hitoshi himself, has a lot of personal dedication and drive. The stories Hitoshi tells about him show he's got a soft streak he keeps well hidden and he's intimidatingly smart.
Plus he's tall, has hair that Izuku admits he wouldn't mind getting his hands tangled in, and looks like he'd be mean in all the right circumstances.
All of that is probably why Izuku finds himself speaking without really giving himself permission to open his mouth.
"Ah," Izuku hears himself say, "maybe we could go on a date first though? If you'd like?"
For a long moment it's so quiet Izuku's pretty sure he can hear himself dying cell by mortified cell.
Eraserhead's face somehow manages to go even blanker.
And then, he smiles.
'Oh wow,' Izuku can't help but marvel as he takes in the expression he's seen palely echoed on Hitoshi's face a million times, 'that's ... unexpectedly attractive.'
He can feel even more heat rush to his face in response as he chews nervously on his lower lip.
"Hope you like coffee," Eraserhead finally says, "and cats."
And Izuku can't help but grin because yes, yes he does.
But he's pretty sure he's going to end up liking Eraserhead even more than all of those put together.
~~~
"Hell is empty," Hitoshi intones when Izuku finally manages to get free of the semi-rioting crowd so he can rush back into the changing room to clean himself up. "All the devils are right fucking here."
Izuku stalls out for a moment, unsure of what, exactly, he's supposed to say to that.
"You've got a date with Eraserhead," Hitoshi plows on.
The expression on his face is caught somewhere between gleeful and absolutely unhinged.
"Yeah," Izuku can't help the grin that steals across his face as he wipes himself down. "Or at least I hope he was serious."
"Oh he was serious," Hitoshi reassures him. "As serious as the heart-attacks basically everyone we know have probably collectively had."
"Do you think he's gonna like me?" Izuku can't help but fret just a bit.
"He's gonna marry you," Hitoshi snips back. "And we're all gonna suffer. Thank the gods you won't be breeding at least. Whatever the both of you are ends with you."
"That's kind of a quick jump to make but quirk science has come a long way," Izuku says absently as he pulls his shirt over his head. "Most couplings are genetically possible these days you know?"
"That was not a challenge," Hitoshi hisses, horror overtaking his expression. "I swear to god Izuku do not spawn with Eraserhead."
Izuku just waves him off as he trots back towards the door to the changing room.
He has an Eraserhead to track down and, hopefully, date plans to iron out.
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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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if it isn't real, why does the sun still burn?
CHAPTER ONE: Rise and Shine
CHAPTER TWO: i guess its all up to me now
CHAPTER THREE: Predictably, everything gets worse
CHAPTER FOUR: good morning
CHAPTER FIVE: Something to eat
CHAPTER SIX: a start
the links for chapter seven an onward are busted on tumblr. please read on AO3
Komaeda Nagito x Talentless!Reader
Summary : Like most people visiting this tag. You have always dreamed of meeting Nagito Komaeda for real, what you would do, what you would say? Things don't go as planned.
AKA: Reader from our universe ends up in danganronpa and is just trying her best to keep everyone alive. and maybe to make komaeda kiss her.
Contains: she/her pronouns, panic attacks, too much self indulgence
read on AO3
For someone who has imagined this very scenario in your head more times than you could possibly count. You really managed to mess it up surprisingly well. Impressively well, almost.
Your face pulls into a grimace that you are sure is endlessly unattractive and you reach up a hand to shield your eyes from the sun, you can feel your skin already starting to burn, but the stares from the 15 strangers standing above you burn much hotter. You swallow.
Danganronpa is a pretty good game. It's a pretty fun game. You've played the second one so many times that you know it like the back of your one sunburnt hand. You should be an expert, you should be kicking this current situation in the ass, but no.
Upon waking up in the hot sand, on a hot island, surrounded by a collection of mostly hot people.
When a man you now recognise as the Ultimate Imposter leaned down and asked you what your talent was. You laughed, and you told him that you didn't have one.
In your defense, his head was turned at a 67 degree angle that you have never seen his head turned at before, and the added third dimension does wonders making some of your favourite characters look like entirely different people. Had you not been delirious, had you not just woken up from what you remembered being a nice afternoon nap in your bed before this weird teleportation scenario happened, you might have said something clever. Might have come up with a cool ultimate talent that no one could dispute, or maybe pretended to have lost your memory like poor Hinata who you can see is still passed out in the sand to your left. Might have not basically handed over your obituary signed and dated.
The Ultimate Imposter clears his throat and crosses his arms, still waiting for the answer to his second question.
You swallow, “how did I get here?”
“Yes.” He says, irritated with you already, “you don't have an Ultimate talent, and you aren't from Hope's Peak Academy. How did you get here?”
You wrack your brain. Already stressed, already confused. You can feel your stomach turning with what you know is the beginning of a panic attack, you clench your hands into fists and try to regulate your breathing. Now is not the time. You can have a panic attack when everyone leaves.
But how did you get here?
Your 20 something year old brain is stuck in what you quickly realise is your 17 year old body. Wearing clothes you remember growing out of years ago, hair still styled in a messy side cut that you realised didn't suit you two years too late. Staring up at fictional characters in a very similar, albeit somehow less confusing boat. You have work tomorrow.
FUCK. You have work tomorrow.
Your breath is coming hard and fast, the sun is so damn hot.
You jerk backwards at the feeling of a hand on your arm. Tsumiki has knelt down next to you in the sand, her face pulled tight with what seems like genuine concern. She smells like lavender.
She shouldn't smell like ANYTHING. She isn't REAL
“I...I understand that we are...are all very confused b--but-” Tsumiki clears her throat and manages to steel herself just a little, shielding your quivering body with her own, “I'm a nurse! And this girl is clearly in distress! We--we can ask questions later...when she's calmer…”
Togami’s face softens in a way the real Togami’s face never would (not that either Togami is real. None of this is real!) and he relents, “You’re right. It will be difficult to question her like this.” He crosses his arms in a huff, “ I think we should return to the original plan of exploring the island, will you be happy to stay here with both of them?” Togami inclines his head in Hinata’s direction. Poor guy is still face down ass up in the sand.
“S--sure” tsumiki squeaks, “I--I'll do my best!”
“Ah, I would like to stay behind too. If that's okay, Togami-san.”
That…
That voice…
Reasonably, you knew he would be here. Why wouldn't he be? Everyone else is, and yet...maybe you were hoping he wouldn't be, just to save yourself the embarrassment. Tsumiki keeps a gentle grip on your shaking shoulders, softly whispering for you to calm down, but all you can see is him
The rest of the class has filed off, heading out to explore the island. But he is still there, standing in front of the blue ocean, sunlight catching in his white hair. Nagito Komaeda gives you an appraising look, before turning on his heel to go check on the unconscious Hinata.
You feel like you're going to puke.
“H--hey.” Tsumiki says, drawing your attention from Komaeda and back to her. she presses a slightly clammy hand against your forehead, humming thoughtfully, “you don't seem to have a fever...h--how are you feeling?”
“Um...everything is...fuzzy.” You reply, telling as much of the truth as you can, “I feel like I can't get my thoughts straight.”
“Mm. That sounds like stress, maybe paranoia.” She begins digging through a little satchel that you do not remember her having in the game and pulls out a blood pressure band, “D--do you might if I check your blood pressure? It's--it's probably fine, but better safe than sorry…”
“Oh...sure…” you say, holding out your arm. Tsumiki’s hands are a little cold, but you are too busy watching what is happening on the other side of the beach.
Did you do this? Is this some bizarre, twisted, monkey's paw of a wish? You finally get to see him, real and in the flesh, but now you're trapped here. Making a fool of yourself. Or was this something else entirely, maybe you're in a coma back home, maybe you've finally figured out that shifting thing teens talk about on tiktok. Komaeda is leaning over Hinata now, and you feel almost guilty for the jealous pang in your stomach. Though it's barely noticeable over the churning feeling of anxiety.
If this was a real wish. If this was a real dream come true. You would be passed out on the sand there (though maybe a little more elegantly than Hinata) and Komaeda would wake you up, gently, softly. Your eyes would meet his, and he would fall instantly in love with you.
You hiss out in pain when Tsumiki tightens the blood pressure band a little too much.
“Oh no! I'm so sorry…” she sobs, “I'm terrible at this...I'm so sorry…”
“No, you don’t need to be sorry. It's fine…” you pull your eyes from Komaeda and give Tsumiki a semi encouraging pat on the forearm (your hand is still shaking and sweaty, but you do what you can), “Thanks for looking after me.”
Tsumiki sniffles, and manages a watery smile, “Sorry for crying...I--I'm doing my best!” She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand and takes a moment to read your blood pressure, she makes an upset noise, “Oh. This is quite high. How does your heartbeat feel?”
Your eyes slip back over to Komaeda. He's reaching a hand out to Hinata to pull him up from the sand, “It feels fast.”
“O--Okay. It’s like I thought, you’re in the midst of a panic attack aren't you?” Tsumiki returns to her satchel, rifling around a little bit more before producing a bottle of pills, “Have you taken diazepam before?”
“Oh, yeah. I have, but I think I'll be okay. I just...I need to think a few things over.”
Tsumiki nods forlornly, but still places the bottle of pills in your hand, “Alright, but please, keep them handy in case things get worse. P--Please…”
Before you can reply, the sound of footsteps on the sand causes you to freeze. Two sets, to be exact. Keeping your eyes down, you can see Hinata’s white sneakers stop in front of you, Komaeda standing a little further behind. Maybe you should have just taken a pill.
“Sorry to interrupt, Tsumiki-san” Komaeda says, voice light, airy and perfect , “I’m taking the time to introduce Hinata-kun to the other members of our class.”
“O--oh...M-My name is Tsumiki Mikan…” she inclines her head in a bow, “Y--You, don't have to remember it, if you don't want to.”
“Tsumiki-san is the Ultimate Nurse!” Komaeda offers, prompting you to finally gain enough courage to lift your head. He’s smiling, you feel like throwing up again, “If you ever get injured you’ll need her help, so it’s best you get along with her now.”
“Uh, Hey Tsumiki-san.” Hinata says, nervously rubbing the back of his neck, “I’ll try my best to remember your name, but I'm...having trouble remembering much at all.”
Komaeda sighs and looks to the ground, almost despondent, “Hinata-kun here can't remember his talent. A real shame, as wonderful as I'm sure it is.”
You can feel Hinata’s eyes on you now. Tsumiki still has a gentle grip on your shoulder, but the weight of Hinata’s stare is almost heavy. Oppressive.
“Hello...Hinata-san…” you manage, voice wavering, “It’s nice to meet you…”
Hinata smiles, a little nervous but genuinely warm. You feel a little better, “It’s nice to meet you too, but are you...doing alright?”
“Sh-She’s just a little panicked, given our situation.” Tsumiki butts in. You’re almost taken aback at her assertiveness.
It's like, this Tsumiki is...different. More realised, there is more to her than tears and apologies. She’s nervous, that is clear as day, but as a medical practitioner, she is firm, she is professional. You can't help but wonder if everyone else is different as well.
“Don’t worry.” Hinata says, “Like Komaeda-san said, I’m sort of...having trouble remembering my talent, so surely you can't be doing worse than me.”
“Ah…” Komaeda starts, his pale eyes turning to you, a coy smile playing at his beautiful lips, “I beg to differ Hinata-kun. This poor girl doesn't have any talent at all.”
Your heart shatters near spontaneously.
And the day can only get worse from here.
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Some positivity about this Tales Of The SMP because I feel like it. MAJOR SPOILERS
Technoblade being in character and hilarious at the same time
Karl says he’s a minecraft streamer fully in character and it’s treated as being the equivalent of a billionaire for the rest of the tales
Everyone having awful rich people accents
Fundy is an old person
Technoblade is just hilarious I don’t make the rules
NIKI NIHACHUUUUU FUCK YEAH!!!!!
Ranboo is the butler and can only communicate in enthusiastic or panicked nods for 90% of it
They try to throw Quackity out of the party the moment he walks in the door. His name is Drew P. Pe- [gets shot]
Karl and Quackity keep falling off the railings and it’s sometimes plot relevant and sometimes not
Techno: “Poor people don’t get healthcare”
Karl trying really hard not to laugh throughout the entire thing, mostly cause of Technoblade and I can’t blame him
Techno, whispering about Quackity: “Butler, feed the poor man poison!” Quackity: “You can say that to my face you son of a bitch.”
Techno: “Sir can you spell ‘economy’?” Quackity: “Of course. A-” Karl: *laughing into his elbow*
Technoblade and Quackity are the funniest people on the planet I don’t make the rules
Technoblade keeps flexing on poor people and I can’t even be mad at him
Quackity: “I’m gonna cough on you!” Everyone: *FERAL PANIC, SCATTER IN ALL DIRECTIONS, HIDE UNDER THE TABLE, SCREAM*
Techno: “Butler, did you feed this man poison yet?” Ranboo: *Tosses Quackity a poison potion.* Techno: “Ah, there it is. Now drink that.” Quackity: “Now why would I do that?” Techno: “It’s high in vitamin B.” Quackity: “What does the ‘B’ in vitamin B stand for?” Techno: “Broke.”
They play duck-duck-goose fully serious and in character sitting in the middle of the ballroom in a circle, complete with screaming and yelling
They stop playing duck-duck-goose for the lights to go down by 3%, everyone to run around as if it’s pitch black, and Niki start to murder people. It’s great. Absolute highlight
I’ve gotten used to Karl being 70% out of character at all times and it’s actually really funny contrasted with everyone else being extremely in character and rolling with whatever he says
“Oh Niki went to the bathroom so we can’t question her.”
Karl: “Oh! ~Canonically~ I see some of his blood! On this wall!!” Everyone: :O!
*Quackity is the one who died* Karl: “I don’t think he died from being dumb and poor... I think he died... from one of YOU!” Everyone: *shocked gasp* Techno: “Who did it? I will pay them for their troubles!”
Ranboo, whispering: “Can I talk?” Techno: “Keep it short, five words.” Karl: “I think we should let him talk to investigate this murder.” Techno: “Alright, six words. That was one of them.”
Fundy: “Everyone knows poor people are very sneaky.” Techno: “Yes, us rich people only commit ~financial crimes~.” Karl: “And it doesn’t count because we don’t MAKE it count!” *Everyone agrees*
They play terrible rich people and simultaniously flex on rich people. We love to see it
Whenever they have to look around Techno just goes and gets a bath and he’s not even sneaky about it
Karl: “I can’t believe they did that to that poor person, whoever this murderer is... I know they’re poor but sometimes they can still live for something else. Like helping rich people get richer!”
Fundy almost drowns in the aquarium?? Was that even scripted??? Nobody even threw him in there he was just there??
NIKI DIES NOOOOOOOOOO WHAT!
*Everyone thinks it’s Karl* Techno: “He did medbay scan!”
Karl: “So it couldn’t have been me. Unless I’m lying. Which killers don’t do!” *Everyone agrees*
Techno: “Everyone empty out your pockets!” Techno: *tossing stacks and stacks of gold bars* Karl: *picks up Sapnap’s gold and mouses over ‘disconnect’* Ranboo and Bad: *buckets and buckets of milk??* Sapnap: *keeps picking up all the gold everyone keeps throwing*
Karl, walking forward and picking up 3847 buckets of milk: “Oh I’ve got so much milk now.” Techno: “Here, wash it down with some poison.” Karl: *actually drinks it and starts screaming “If only we had milk!” while running away*
Karl, to Bad: “Are you still drinking?” Bad: “dn,, btnt... no.”
Karl and Bad chilling in the closet
*Karl and Techno stumble onto Fundy on top of a dead body* Techno: “Caught! In! Four! K!”
Fundy “But if I was the killer... and I was from London... WHY didn’t you hear a GUNSHOT?” Techno: “He’s got a point there.”
Karl: “Why couldn’t it have been the butler?!” Ranboo, whispering: “How many words?” Techno: “Three.” Ranboo: “Nope. Not... me.” Techno: “...he does raise a good point.”
Ranboo: “Is there a murderer-” Techno: “SILENCE! ...He really singed up thinkin he’d get to voice act. Not on my watch.”
Karl, to Techno: “We really need the butler to talk. If we allow him 30 minutes-” Techno, quietly with horror: “30 minutes?”
Techno: “Butler, you have 30 minutes of free speech.” Ranboo: “Oh, oh! 30 minutes! I have a question, then. I read something in a book once. What is a... ‘union’?” Karl: “Nevermind, cut him off.” Techno: “No rights for poor people.”
Fundy: “If it was me, how come I can play such a JOLLY tune?” *starts playing crime theme on a piano* *Ranboo vibing to the music in the background*
Karl: “Okay so Fundy will stay with the butler. He was only like a 100 millionaire, right? Fits that he stays with the poor people.” Techno: “Oh yeah, he’s broke. I heard he streams fortnite.”
Techno laughs himself lightheaded at that
Techno: “I’m gonna file so many complaints to the lights company after this.”
Techno: “Oh no, it’s the butler, we’re out of here! Throw gold, he’s poor so he has to stop for it!”
EGG?!?!?!
THE EGG?!?!?!?!?!
?!?!?!?!
I mean I knew they were all gonna die at the end but STILL
Ranboo is rly scary when he wants to be
LMAO the book dissapeared and Karl had to do a take two
Karl just makes the stream read the book themselves lmfao
on that note HOLY FUCK THE BUILD
HOLY FUCK THE BUILD
they probably downloaded that from somewhere but still
I would fucking die for that castle
TLDR: Ranboo has never done anything wrong in his life, ever
#tftsmp#tales of the smp#liveblogging#mcyt#mcytblr#dream smp#dreamsmp#tales spoilers#I love the way technoblade emotes#like just in minecraft#ranboo too#dreamteamspace speaks#long post#like LONG ass post
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the nickname
Summary: reader convinced spencer to let her take the reins in the bedroom... or does she?
TW: oral (male recieving), fingering, mention of overstimulation, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, riding, scratching, use of nicknames (princess, love, etc.), hints at sugar daddy!spencer, age gap (not specified but i’m thinking around 10-15 years). *let me know if i missed anything*
WC: 2,912
A/N: this hinted at sugar daddy!spencer (not really hinted so much as saying it outright). I also wrote this for @anxiousblanketqueen ‘s fic contest for her birthday! i believe it’s prompt number 21. i hope you enjoy :)
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you had been together for a while, now. maybe 13 months? you bet spencer could recall - more like knew he could.
you had met when you were one of his students. you're going to georgetown on an academic scholarship because no way in hell could you pay for the full tuition when you still couldn't afford it with the scholarships.
he took a liking to you - how could he not? you were a hard worker and proved yourself to be extremely determined. on top of the obvious intelligence, you had a beauty that radiated around you. and that beauty had a touch of... innocence. and maybe that innocent beauty is what initially attracted him to you, but he'd like to think it was just your personality as a whole.
you were never one of the students who would come to his office after hours for help you clearly didn't need. you would use your colored pens and highlighters to help organize your notes, so it took a while to pack everything up to leave.
one day, when there weren't any students lined up out his door, he went to your seat as you were cleaning up. you looked up, rather surprised that your inappropriate crush was standing right by you.
"uhm... hi," you smiled at him as you put your pencil pouch in your bag, breaking eye contact for the briefest of seconds before returning your attention back to him.
"hi. i was uhm..." he cleared his throat, "i was wondering if you had any questions? you never come to the office hours for questions and i was just... just making sure," he stuttered out.
"oh," you chuckled a light, airy laugh that spencer wished he had recorded so he could replay it over and over and over. "i don't have any questions. i guess that just means that you're a really good professor - very thorough," you stood up and flung the bag over your shoulder, still incredibly shorter than him.
"than-thank you," he smiled. "i'm happy to hear that you're actually getting something out of the lessons," you began walking out of the classroom, looking back to ensure that he was following you.
"yes, i truly do," you agreed. "i'm also pretty sure i'm one of the other people who isn't auditing the class," you added.
"correct, you are," he enthusiastically gestured, another laugh leaving your beautiful lips.
"i mean, you can't necessarily blame them for just taking the class," you chuckled as he held the door open for you, you gave him a subtle 'thank you.'
"what do you mean?" he asked in a soft tone.
"i mean you- you're..." you trailed off, gesturing to his entire body in hopes to convey what you meant. he just looked at you with a confused taste, letting you know you needed to elaborate. "you're very... attractive, professor reid."
"oh-that's very... thank you," he blushed as you halted by the bus stop.
"of course," you turned around, looking up to meet his eyes. "so... wait, what time is it?" you asked rather frantically.
"it's," he looked at his silver watch adorning his wrist, "6:27."
"shit," you swore for the first time in front of him, underneath your breath.
"wha-what is it?" he asked, perplexed as to why you would be so frustrated.
"the last bus leaves at 6:15 and i've missed it," you huffed out, trying to compose yourself before checking your bag and realizing, "i forgot my key and my roommate is at her girlfriend's house."
"is there anything i could do?" he asked concerned.
"no i can... i can just stay at the library. i should probably study up anyway," you tried to laugh it off although you knew it was pointless... he was a profiler for christ's sake.
"the library? y/n, this might seem a bit inappropriate but i have a spare room you could stay in until your roommate gets back," he offered kindly.
so, you took him up on his offer.
you slept in his spare room after he got you both takeout. you laughed and talked for what seemed like meer minutes but turned out to be until 1 a.m. you talked about string theory and the leonard euler's paradox. he gave you interesting facts about tortoises and achilles.
that little hangout session turned into countless hangouts over the span of three months. and then he asked you out on a real date once you finished at the top of his class - and not just because you were his favorite.
the first time with spencer was... beyond delightful. he was captivating with the way he worked against and for your body. it was almost as if he felt like his sole purpose on earth was to please you. he was eager, yet patient with the way his tongue flicked and sucked at your skin.
he was such a dominant personality in the bedroom, which was extremely appreciated since you didn't have much experience in that arena. but now that you were more versed in that world, you wanted to experiment a bit more.
casually, he began to pay for your things. it wasn't so head-on at first. it would be paying for your groceries, or buying all of your college books for you. but then it got a bit bigger. when your roommate couldn't give you the necessary half of the rent that was due and was beginning to be a nuisance, spencer quite literally let you move into his place. he would pay for your car's repairs and bought you jewelry consistently.
one time, as a joke, you called him your sugar daddy - mostly because that's how he acted. he just didn't like the term. he felt as though it made your relationship together seem one-sided when you were, in fact, very in love with the man. you came to realize it also made you seem like a gold digger, which you weren't - even though the money is a nice plus. so, you relented and didn't say that again.
spencer never really had much time off now that he was working back at the bau and traveling but now, you had him to yourself for a whole week. you had been planning this since he told you when he'd be off.
step 1: look sexy - you always looked sexy to him, but feeling sexy would also be a plus.
step 2: surprise him while looking sexy - absolutely devious.
step 3: seduce him - when doesn't he want you? exactly.
it was foolproof.
you had gotten the text 15 minutes ago that spencer was on his way back to his place, wanting you to meet him there once he had settled in. little did he know that you were in a sexy little white number - the white reminded him of your innocence which really got him going - lying in wait for him in a pair of heels. you sat in one of his reading chairs, deciding to pick up a book until he got home.
when you heard the jingling of keys coming from the other side of the door, you assumed your position. the chair was turned toward the door, you sitting pretty with one leg crossed over the other.
spencer walked through the door, hanging his coat and briefcase up before finally noticing you. his eyebrows shot up, looking your body up and down hungrily.
"wow," he smiled a wicked grin as he slowly made his way to where you were sitting. you stood up, heels clicking as they hit the floor and walked closer to him.
"i wanna try something," you placed your hands on his chest, pushing him back slightly until he was forced to sit down on the couch.
"and what would that be, princess?" he asked, hands stroking your hair that was cascading down your back.
"i..." you bent down to whisper in his ear, "i want to be in charge tonight," you placed a soft kiss below his earlobe, feeling his body shudder subtly at the proposition.
"are you sure you can handle that?" he chuckled, hands roaming to your waist and grinding your hips down on his.
you almost gave up. almost. you grasped his hands, placing them on the arm of the couch before getting close to his face. your lips were almost touching before you whispered, "no touching today, pretty boy."
you felt his hips rut up against your core, you chuckled at his eagerness. you decided to throw him a bone and ground down, hard, against his hips. the groan he let out was low and enticing, nearly enough to allow you to give him whatever he wanted.
"bedroom," you whispered against his neck before getting off of his lap, allowing him to scurry to the room. "take off your clothes while you're at it!" you giggled under your breath as you heard his clothes shuffling, telling you that he was obeying your request.
you waited a couple of minutes until you went into the room, wanting to have him go a bit insane like he normally did to you. when you walked in, he was laying on his back on the bed, just like you wanted. his cock was already red and leaky, prominent as it bounced on his tummy.
"good boy, spence," you giggled, walking over to him and straddling his legs.
once you were settled, you pressed a chaste kiss to his lips before trailing them down his torso, leaving the occasional hickey scattered on his chest. traveling kisses down his happy trail, you traced the vein on his dick and watched it twitch up and hit his stomach once again you giggled at the reaction.
"now i understand why you like so much responsiveness," you chuckled as you pressed a soft, barely-there kiss to the tip of his cock, he hissed once again from the contact.
you slowly took his cock in your mouth, agonizingly slow, and flattened your tongue at the base. one you got him as far down you could manage, you began bobbing your head just as slow. his hands flew to your hair, trying to force you to go faster until you swatted them away.
"should i tie those up?" you threatened, your hand working at his member as you spoke.
"are you fucking kidding me?" he swore, clearly agitated by your antics.
"no," you squeezed his dick for punctuation, the way he grunted made the wetness pool in your underwear. "i'm not kidding you."
you took him in your mouth once more, bobbing your head far more vigorously than before this time, just to spite him. hollowing your cheeks, you swallowed around him and began gagging around his dick before coming back up for air.
"fuck," he whispered underneath his breath, not wanting to let you know just how much of an effect you had on him.
you smiled to yourself and continued your antics until he was spilling all down your throat. you didn't stop there, you came back up and let your hand continue pumping his member slowly.
"shit," he hissed from the stimulation.
"shhh," you put your free finger up to his lips.
you gave his dick a few more strokes, curses leaving his lips delightfully before you drew your hands up his body once more before straddling his lap. after moving your panties to the side and slicking his cock with your arousal, you ground against him leisurely, trying to tease him a bit more. you unclasped your bra, throwing it somewhere in the room. finally, you reached between the two of you and lined him up with your entrance.
"are you sure you can do this?" spencer asked, not to entice you, but to make sure you were alright.
"there's a first for everything," you chuckled, knowing you had never been on top before.
you had never been on top before - you'd like to blame your lack of experience. you knew it might be hard to keep up the pace, but you were determined to make not only yourself but also make spencer feel good. that's all you've ever wanted. that's what you're meant to do - make him feel good. so no matter what it took, you'd make it happen.
you slowly lowered yourself onto his dick, being wary of how much bigger he felt from the new angle.
"shit," you whispered, your hands resting on his chest in attempt to ground yourself. "oh god..." you trailed off, feeling your dominant personality fade away as the pleasure overtook you.
"keep going, princess," he spurred you on, his hands finding your waist and rubbing gentle circles on your skin. "you've got it."
so you rose on your knees until only his tip was inside of you for you to lower yourself once more. you whimpered from the feeling of him re-entering your body, your pussy clenching around him as if he were an intruder.
"doing so good for me," he grasped your waist a bit tighter so he could help you rise and fall on his cock. "fuck, it's so good."
"d-doctor, i-" you stuttered, the persona nearly entirely gone and nowhere to be seen as he continued to move you up and down.
when you learn forward, your face hovering over spencer's chest, he took the opportunity to wrap his arms entirely around your waist. before you knew it, he was slamming his length into your pussy over and over and over and over again.
"oh! oh my god," you moaned, your voice reaching a higher octave as he drilled into your body in the most pleasurable way imaginable. "don't stop! don't stop! ple-please!" you screamed out, your hands wrapping around his torso and squeezing his body to ensure that he was there - present.
"i won't, princess. just let go. let go for me," he pressed a kiss to the top of your head so sweetly in contrast to how he was fucking you.
"i'm cumming! oh god, i'm cumming, spencer!" you cried out as you released the tension from inside of you.
only spencer wasn't done yet, so he took himself out of you, and he placed you on your back before reentering you. he moved in and out of you at a godly pace, trying to get himself to his climax before you would become too overwhelmed from the overstimulation.
"spen- spencer," you scratched at his back, surely leaving red marks for him to ogle once you were through. "i-i'm close," you sucked lightly at his earlobe before he moved his hand between the two of you, circling the little bundle of nerves at your crest.
"my little insatiable bunny, huh?" he smiled as you whimpered into his ear, nearing your second release. "loves my cock a bit too much, huh?"
"please! fuck!" you shouted out as you came on his dick, pulling at his hair. the clenching and fluttering of your pussy finally sending him over the edge, his hot release flooding your insides.
"fuck," he groaned into your ear as he carried the two of you through your releases. "good job, princess," he pressed a kiss to your neck as you stroked his hair, playing with it as you were still coming down.
"i'm sorry," you frowned once he pulled out, finally making eye contact as he lay down beside you.
"what for?" he asked incredulously.
"i just... i wanted to make you proud and i couldn't even finish without your help," you explained in a whiney manner, not allowing yourself to meet his beautiful eyes.
"hey," he grasped your chin to force you to make eye contact. "i love it when i have to help you reach that high. that's not something to be embarrassed or upset about."
"i know but i wanted to ride you and i couldn't even do that," you rolled your eyes.
"it takes time to get used to doing that," he chuckled. "and besides, riding someone on the bed is never a good way to begin. the couch is always better - that way you have the back of it to hold onto."
"really? so it's not that i'm just terrible at being a top?" your eyes widened with hope, he smiled at your eagerness.
"i think you could be a switch but it needs a bit of work, my love," he brushed your hair behind your ear before seeing your disappointed gaze and adding, "but i'll bet that with enough practice i could start calling you my little bunny, yea?"
"really?" you perked up at the proposition. "i want you to call me that."
"well then, i guess we better start practicing," he grinned before leaning in and giving you a sloppy kiss, his hands flying to your waist as he stood the both of you up to go to the couch.
needless to say, with spencer's guidance you were able to master the art of riding him. and you got that special little nickname, too.
taglist:
@averyhotchner
@greenprisca
@muffin-cup
@emilyprentisslittlewhore
@spenxerslut
if you’d like to be added to the taglist, please don’t hesitate to message me or leave a comment saying so!
#jtr23#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid#sugar daddy!spencer#spencer smut#spencer reid fluff#professor reid
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That’s When (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part three of Bye Bye, Baby
Part three has arrived! Guys, this was so much fun to write and this part made me so weepy. Thank y’all so much for reading <3
Loosely based on “That’s When” by Taylor Swift ft. Keith Urban xx
Summary: Juliet wants to meet Aaron, so you set it up. Things go better than you were expecting.
Warnings: angst, happy ending!
Word count: 3.7k this time EYE
Bye Bye, Baby (part one) || Don’t You (part two) || Hotch Masterlist
You said, “I know,” when I said I need some time, need some space/to think about all of this
You pour the coffee Aaron got you down the drain. You took maybe two sips on your way home.
Juliet is still with Dannie, but she’s on her way now to drop her off. And once Jules is asleep, you’ll be filling Dannie in on everything.
Easier said than done, because Juliet all but refuses to fall asleep.
“Munchkin,” you sigh. “You have school tomorrow.”
“M’not tired.”
You give her a look.
“What’s wrong, Mommy?” She asks out of nowhere. “You look sad.”
“I’m okay, baby,” you whisper, even though you nearly start crying. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”
“French toast for breakfast?”
You chuckle, tapping her nose gently. “French toast. You got it.”
“Love you bunches,” she murmurs, already falling asleep.
You lean over and kiss her forehead. “Love you, munchkin.”
Juliet keeps her eyes closed as you stand and turn off the light, and you don’t doubt that she’s fast asleep by the time you pull her door closed.
Dannie is waiting on the couch, two glasses of wine already poured.
“You know me too well,” you laugh, taking your glass from her. “Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me, it’s your wine,” Dannie grins.
“Right.”
Dannie watches you stare at your wine. Something you never do.
“How’d it go?” She asks. “It looks like it went bad.”
You snort. “Well, it wasn’t great.”
You watched me go/And I knew my words were hard to hear
“Oh boy.” Dannie shifts her body and faces you on the couch, her legs bent underneath her. “Go on.”
“His first question was if she’s his.”
Dannie scrunches her nose in disgust, an expression Jules has picked up from her. “What did you say?”
“That she’s mine, but he is her dad,” you exhale shakily. “I forgot she has his dimples, too.”
Dannie smiles sadly. “Honey…”
“Yeah, it was bad,” you admit. “It was so easy to forget all of that when I was angry and when I was too busy being pregnant,” you joke. “Seeing him just opened that door again.”
You swirl your wine for a second. “He said he wants to meet her. I told him I’d have to ask her first.”
“That’s good,” Dannie nods.
“How do I even bring that up?” You ask, defeated. “And what if she says no?”
“Then she says no,” Dannie shrugs her shoulders. “Then life goes back the way it was.”
You take in a deep breath. “Is it wrong that I kind of want her to say no?”
“I think that’s very motherly of you,” Dannie smiles. “You’ve protected her so well, I hope you know that.”
“I’ve tried.” You take a big sip of wine before your next sentence. “He asked me for a second chance.”
Dannie blinks. “Seriously?”
You nod.
“Did you tell him about the phone calls? He’s ignored you this whole time and now just because he realized he’s a father, he wants a second chance?” Dannie scoffs loudly. “Maybe I want her to say no, too. I hate men.”
You nearly inhale your wine in laughter. “You and me both.”
+++
As it turns out, bringing up Aaron to Juliet is easy. She asks you the next night why you still look sad, and you use it to bring him up.
“I’m not sad, munchkin, I’m just thinking really hard about something.”
Juliet furrows her eyebrows. “What?”
You slide off the couch to sit on the floor next to her where she’s coloring a picture of Elsa. “Remember how I told you that your dad and I don’t talk anymore?”
It was the easiest way to explain Aaron’s absence when Juliet started to ask about it. It was hard to think about because you and Aaron were never married, he didn’t die, and to make matters worse, he had no idea Juliet existed.
She nods, picking up a blue marker. “Yeah, you said adults have to stop talking to each other sometimes.”
“That’s right,” you nod. “Sometimes it’s better for us if we don’t speak. But sometimes, after a while, we can start talking again.”
“Okay.”’
“Well, your dad and I have started talking again,” you pause. “And he said he’d like to meet you. But only if you want to.”
Juliet thinks for a moment, then shrugs, switching to an orange marker. “Okay.”
“Yeah?” You ask, just to be sure. “Where do you want to go?”
“I can pick?”
“Sure can. Wherever you want.”
“Hmm,” she taps her chin for emphasis, and you try hard not to laugh. “What about McDonalds in the park?”
It’s a somewhat tradition of yours to get McDonalds, then go to her favorite park and have a picnic. It’s one of her favorite things to do, so you should’ve known.
“I love that,” you smile. “What about this Saturday?”
“Mhm!” She nods. “Can Dannie come, too?”
“I’ll ask her, but I don’t see why not.”
Juliet is completely satisfied with this answer and goes right back to coloring Elsa.
You chuckle quietly. Kids.
+++
It’s almost noon by the time you get Juliet in the car. And surprisingly, you were the one running behind today. Juliet was ready and sitting on your bed, watching you get dressed before you had even done your hair.
Now, though, you’ve picked up Dannie, and the three of you are headed to McDonalds.
Juliet hasn’t mentioned meeting Aaron once this morning, but she has talked about McDonalds at least four times now.
“How are you holding up?” Dannie asks while Juliet is occupied singing along to ‘Let It Go.’
“Nervous,” you admit quietly. “Thank you for coming.”
“I wouldn’t turn down McDonalds any day,” Dannie scoffs, then turns around to Juliet. “Are you excited?”
Listening to the two of them ramble makes you smile wide, and the drive to the park feels infinitely shorter.
You told Aaron you’d text him when you get there, so he can come over. He said he’d already be there, but for what reason you have no clue.
All you care about is setting out the blanket and getting Juliet to eat her food before she plays with her new Frozen toy.
Truthfully, you’re expecting him to text you and say he called on a case. Not that you blame him because you’ve been there, the BAU is unpredictable like that. But you wouldn’t be surprised.
However, you are surprised when Aaron jogs over.
Yes, jogs.
In shorts, a t-shirt, and sneakers, with sweat clinging to his hair, he jogs over. And you lose all semblance of reality. There’s cotton in your mouth. Good fucking god, he looks good.
“When the hell did you start running?” It's the first thing that comes out of your mouth, and it’s complete word vomit.
Juliet gasps dramatically. “Bad word, Mommy.”
Dannie tries and fails to hold in her laugh.
“You’re right,” you chuckle. “Bad word.”
Aaron, with a smile, answers your question. “The BAU is having a triathlon. I’m training for it.”
“When is it?” You ask without entirely meaning to. You hate how easily you fall right back into conversation with him, how easily he makes you dumbfounded just by his looks.
“In a few weeks, so I’ve got some time,” he breathes. “Mind if I sit?”
You shake your head, scooting over. “Here, I got some nuggets.” You ordered enough for the two of you to share, mostly to save money, but now you’re realizing the implications of it.
You don’t have time to think about that, though, because Juliet has been staring at Aaron for a few moments.
“Munchkin?” You ask. Dannie nudges Juliet’s arm.
“Didn’t you hit us in the grocery store?”
Dannie bursts into laughter then, unable to control it this time, and thankfully, Aaron laughs, too.
“I did,” he nods. “I’m really sorry about that.”
“It’s okay, Aaron,” Juliet says, going right back to her nuggets, sandwiching fries in between two pieces of chicken.
His eyebrows raise and he looks at you.
All you can do is shrug. “She forgets nothing.”
From there, lunch is...uneventful.
Juliet is more focused on playing than she is talking to Aaron, but thankfully, she doesn’t seem upset by him being here.
Dannie asks him a couple questions, mostly standard ones. “What’s the BAU like? I bet the hours suck. You’re unit chief, too, right?”
Aaron answers everything politely, and seems mostly at ease.
After a while, you begin to relax, too.
You have no choice, really, when Juliet feels comfortable to ask questions like, “Are you really my dad? Why weren’t you talking to my mommy?”
Aaron handles the questions like a pro. “I am. Your mom and I needed some time to ourselves, so that’s why we weren’t talking.”
“Adults are weird,” she says, but she seems satisfied with his answers and even hands him her Olaf toy. “I’m gonna go swing.”
Aaron chuckles and sets Olaf in the shade of his leg. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t melt.”
Juliet tilts her head. “He’s a toy, he won’t melt.”
This time you’re the one incapable of holding in your laughter.
“Dannie, come on!” Juliet yells out, giggling when Dannie nearly trips over her feet to stand up.
As they run off, you start picking up Juliet’s trash and stuffing it back in the bag.
“Here, I’ll run it over to the trash can.”
You turn your head to Aaron with a smirk. “You’ll run it over there? Promise?”
He gives you a look.
He doesn’t actually take it over to the trash can because he goes completely still, then says, “She has my eyes.”
You take a deep breath. “Yeah. She does. Your dimples, too.”
He smiles. “Thank god she got your nose, though.”
“What?” You whip your head around. “She has your nose.”
“She does not,” he argues. “And as I said, thank god.”
“Oh, shut up, I love your nose.”
His smile is never-ending. “Really?”
You move on from it quickly. “Thanks for meeting us today.”
“Thank you for letting me.”
You nod slowly, deciding to blurt out what’s been eating at you. “You know, if— If you’re doing this just to get a second chance with me, please don’t.”
“I’m not.”
“Because I don’t need that kind of stress, and Juliet doesn’t either—”
I said, “I know,” when you said I did you wrong/made mistakes, and put you through all of this
“Y/N,” Aaron’s hand rests gently on your arm, getting your attention. He lifts it when you stop talking. “I’m not. I’m doing this because I want to be a part of her life, as her dad. I wasn’t there for her, or you, and I’m sorry. I just want to make it right. Let me make it up to you — to her.”
You stare at him closely, watching. “You mean that?”
He nods. “I do. And I’m so sorry my actions in the past made you think differently of me.”
“I just don’t want her to get hurt,” you murmur. “She’s my baby.”
“I know,” Aaron says. “I know.”
+++
Co-parenting with Aaron is surprisingly easy. Or maybe he makes it easy.
Every Saturday, you and Juliet meet him in the park for a picnic lunch after he’s done training for the triathlon. Sometimes you get there early — which happens nearly every week as Juliet becomes more eager to see him — and you get to cheer Aaron on as he finishes his run.
Dannie comes sometimes, but the few times that she hasn’t have been just as pleasant.
Aaron keeps his word. He does this to spend time with Juliet as her dad, and he doesn’t make any advances on you. The two of you don’t even hug at the end of the afternoon, but Juliet has taken to running and jumping in his arms.
She’s growing more and more attached to him every week, and you hate the dread that you feel. So far, you’ve been lucky. Aaron’s cases have been during the week, so he hasn’t missed a single Saturday — yet.
It’s one of the reasons you are grateful for your transfer at the time four years ago. If you had been in as unpredictable of a job as the BAU when you were pregnant, or when Juliet was born, you have no idea how you would’ve done it. Your job now is a perfect 8 to 5, sometimes 6, but that’s only been a handful of times in the past four years.
Juliet is used to you being there every day. And now, she’s getting used to seeing Aaron every week. You’re just bracing yourself for the time when he has a case and won’t be able to make it.
You try not to think that far ahead, but you can’t help yourself. You were once an agent under him. You know just how crazy the BAU can get. You know exactly what to expect when it gets busy.
Which is why you don’t understand the feelings that are growing inside of you.
You told him he wasn’t getting a second chance — at least not right now. Because you don’t have it in you, and you don’t want to do that to Juliet if it doesn’t work out.
But that was before things started working out.
And you said, “When can I come back?”
Before he never missed a single Saturday. Before he insisted on a birthday dinner when he realized her birthday was a few months ago. Before she started running into his arms. Before he started lifting her up and spinning her around, listening to her giggles as she squealed, “Mommy! I’m flying!” Before she fell asleep on the blanket in the park, and he moved over to shield her from the sun, all while still talking to you.
Now, you don’t know what to do. It sounds awful, but you didn’t expect him to prove himself this well.
You’ve always loved him. That is easy enough to recognize and admit. But you never imagined feeling this way again.
“Mommy?” Juliet pushes your bedroom door open a little.
You sit up, patting your bed. “Good morning, munchkin. C’mere.”
She climbs into bed and right to your side, and you spread the blanket over her, letting her snuggle into your side.
After a moment, you think she’s asleep, but then she whispers, “Are you and dad going to stop talking again?”
You freeze. Up until now, Juliet has called him “Aaron.” Obviously, she knows Aaron is her dad, but she’s never called him that.
“Why do you ask that, baby?” You murmur, kissing the top of her head.
“I don’t want you guys to stop talking again. I like hanging out with him.” She buries her head further into your chest. “He makes me laugh.”
Tears fill your eyes. “He makes me laugh, too.”
“I know,” she smiles into your shirt. “He looks at you a lot.”
“What?”
“When you’re not looking,” she whispers, half-asleep again. “He smiles a lot. He has dimples like me.”
“He does,” you smile softly, wiping your tears away.
+++
The day of the triathlon, Juliet is more than eager to get to the park to cheer Aaron on.
You, on the other hand, feel like you could throw up from the thought of it.
Aaron told you the rest of the team will be there, and you’re grateful for the heads up, but you’re also nervous as shit. You haven’t seen them since your send off party. You haven’t texted with Penelope and Derek in...probably two years now.
He said he didn’t tell the team you’re coming because he didn’t want you to feel pressured, but he also warned you that the team has been questioning him nonstop if he’s seeing someone. He said he’s told them that he isn’t, but of course, they think he’s lying.
Dannie comes with to the triathlon, mainly because Juliet asked her to. It’s been a few days since Juliet has seen Dannie because she was out of town for work, but now she’s back, so Juliet wants her around all the time again.
You’re grateful for Dannie’s presence once again to calm your nerves and offer distractions at every second.
Surprisingly, you don’t see the team anywhere when you arrive, so you, Juliet, and Dannie set up your chairs and blanket peacefully. It’s a while before Aaron will be over here for the run, the last part of the triathlon, so Juliet breaks out her coloring book at your and Dannie’s feet.
You and Dannie spend the wait while idly talking, and after about an hour, the first cheers begin echoing out.
Juliet perks up with the noise. “Is that dad?”
Dannie’s eyes snap to yours and she mouths, “Did she?”
You nod, smiling stupidly. It brings you way more joy to hear Juliet freely call Aaron her dad. Way more joy than you thought.
“Maybe,” you stand up and reach for Juliet’s hand. “Let’s go see.”
Juliet grabs your hand and starts tugging you toward the front, and Dannie follows with a laugh, watching you get drug away by a four-year-old.
A few runners are passing by, but none of them are Aaron. Juliet is watching impatiently, and squeals when Dannie lifts her up onto her shoulders.
“Can you see now, munchkin?” You ask, your hand resting gently on her back, even though Dannie is holding onto her ankles.
Juliet nods. “I see him!”
You look down the way, and you see him, too.
Your lips split into a grin almost immediately. His black shorts, black t-shirt, with his number pinned to the front. His hair is slick with sweat, and yet, you still have a burning desire to run your fingers through it.
Aaron moves to the side, running right next to you, giving Juliet a high five on his way by, and you, too, only when his fingers graze yours, he squeezes.
As soon as he crosses the finish line, Juliet is scrambling out of Dannie’s arms, and when she hits the ground, she runs.
You’re running after her, Dannie too, calling her name, because she really shouldn’t run off like that.
But your nerves calm down the second you see Juliet jumping into her dad’s arms.
Slowing to a walk, you shake your head with a smile as Aaron spins her around, squeezing her tightly.
“Hey,” he says when he sees you. “I’m glad you guys could make it.”
“Me too,” you smile. “She wouldn’t let me miss it,” you nod toward Juliet.
“You’re smelly,” Juliet says out of nowhere, pinching her nose.
Dannie laughs loudly at her comment as Aaron sets her down. But despite her comment, she doesn’t move from next to him.
“Is that who I think it is?” Derek Morgan’s voice floats through your ears.
You turn around to face him, putting your hands on your hips. “Depends, who do you think it is?”
Derek grins wide. “Come here, you.”
You hug him tightly, and over his shoulder you see everyone else, all with shocked looks on their faces. JJ, Emily, Penelope, Spencer, and Rossi, too.
After giving out hugs all around, you look back to see Juliet still clinging to Aaron’s leg.
“Who is this?” Morgan asks quietly, kneeling down to Juliet’s level. “Hey there.”
She eyes him skeptically. “Hi.”
“Munchkin, this is Derek. He’s a friend, too.”
Derek waves.
“Do you like Frozen?” Juliet asks.
Derek nods seriously. “I love it.”
“Hmph,” she wraps her arm tighter around Aaron’s leg. The sight makes you want to crumble. She looks up at Aaron, and says, “Dad?” To get his attention.
Everyone stills. Even Derek.
“Yes, honey?” Aaron replies, kneeling down, too.
“Are they your friends, too?”
He nods. “We’re all really good friends.”
She shrugs. “Okay.” She looks around at everyone, and gasps when she sees Penelope. “I like your bracelet!”
Penelope looks down at it with a smile. “You wanna try it on?”
Juliet practically sprints toward Penelope with a dramatic nod.
While the two of them are playing with Pen’s jewelry, everyone else is looking at you and Hotch with blatantly shocked expressions.
“We’ll explain later,” you offer. “But the answer is yes.”
Rossi, bless him, breaks the awkward, silent tension. “Is anyone else starving?”
You laugh some nerves away. “Yeah, I am. We just need to go pack up our stuff.”
“I can help,” Aaron says.
“Okay, yeah,” you nod, glancing over at Juliet, but her, Penelope, JJ, and Emily are now sitting in the grass, talking animatedly about Frozen.
“I’ll stay over here,” Dannie says, nudging your arm.
“Thank you,” you murmur, trying to hide your dumb smile at the thought of being alone with Aaron, even if for only a few seconds.
Regardless, you try to keep your cool when you turn back to him. “We’re just over here.”
“Lead the way,” he gestures ahead.
You ignore all efforts to hide your smile now as you start walking. He falls into step beside you, his sweaty shoulder brushing yours, but you don’t mind.
And against all of your better judgement, you slide your hand into his.
His surprised look is priceless, and you can’t help the snort of laughter that escapes you. “What? Am I not allowed to make the first move?”
You don’t know if the red on his cheeks is from running or blushing. “No, no, you’re allowed.”
“Good,” you murmur, walking a little closer. Your things are far too close for your liking. You want to walk with him like this for longer.
When you stop next to your chairs, you don’t let go of his hand. He doesn’t let go, either.
“Can I ask something?” He says, squeezing your hand.
“Sure.”
He steps closer, his toes nearly touching yours. “If you make the first move, am I allowed to make the second?”
You can’t help the violent swarm of butterflies in your stomach. “I think that’s how that works.” You pause, tilting your head, gesturing to how close your feet are. “Was that your move?”
He shakes his head. “No. This is.”
That’s when, when I saw your face/You let me in, and baby, that’s when
Aaron’s free hand holds your jaw as he kisses you in the same tender, gentle way that he used to, only this one has four years’ worth of apologies in every touch. You let go of his hand to smooth your hands on his chest, his neck, any place you can touch because it’s been too long. Way too long.
That’s when I want you/That’s when I love you/That’s when
#bye bye baby#don't you#that's when#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x fem!reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#hotch#hotch x fem!reader#hotch x you#hotch x y/n#hotch x reader#criminal minds fanfiction#aaron hotchner angst#angst#aaron hotchner songfic#taylor swift
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Love Sick
Masterlist
Summary: A story about how Spencer’s worst decision ever somehow ends up being his best.
A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day, my loves! This fic is loosely based on a request I got about Spencer faking an illness to keep the reader from going on a date.
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Content Warning: swearing
Word Count: 4k
Spencer has done a terrible, awful thing.
He wants to argue that he doesn’t know what came over him, but that would be untrue and he’s already met today’s quota on little white lies. Spencer knows exactly what possessed him to call you up at seven thirty on a Saturday night, and it wasn’t so that the two of you could discuss the weather or the recent upward trend in the stock market. Spencer’s spontaneous (panicked) phone call to you was a brazen attempt to abate the green-eyed monster that had been whispering dreadful things in his ear for the better part of a week.
To put it simply; Spencer is jealous, and he’s dealing with it rather poorly.
So poorly that he’s resorted to sabotage.
As he sits on his couch and worries at a hole in the bottom of his designated lounging sweatshirt, Spencer attempts to justify his actions. His tiny fib won’t hurt anyone . . . except, perhaps, one annoyingly perfect and stupidly handsome veterinarian. But Spencer can live with that. Potentially scorning an animal care specialist isn’t the thing that has his stomach in knots. That, he can live with. Spencer doesn’t even have pets, so there’s no longterm consequences as far as the vet is concerned. The notion of lying to you, on the other hand?
Spencer is positively sick with nerves.
He’s not sure why. Spencer’s gotten rather good at lying to you. Several months of pining for you from across the hallway of your shared apartment complex has turned him into quite the master of deceit, after all. He was a sucker from the moment he opened his door and lay his eyes on you, arms outstretched and wielding a plate of homemade sweets. The cookies were lovely, but the breathtaking smile on your face is what really did him in.
Since that first day, Spencer’s gone out of his way to ensure that he’s on the receiving end of that smile as often as possible. His efforts are never in vain; for reasons unbeknownst to him, you seem to enjoy spending time with him just as much as he did you. This mutual fondness results in most of Spencer’s off days being spent in your company. Spencer was certain that, with time, he would work up the nerve to ask you out on a date. He’s halfway to convincing himself that you might even say yes when your cat makes the unfortunate decision to steal a brownie from your plate and gulp the whole thing down.
Enter, aforementioned veterinarian.
The sound of your door opening from across the hall has Spencer breaking out into a cold sweat. His hand is halfway to his forehead, ready to wipe away the perspiration when he pauses. His body’s anxious reaction might just help him sell his story. Yes, Spencer thinks, this is a good thing. Authenticity, and all that.
Several soft footsteps are muffled by the door that separates him from you, and then his doorknob jiggles as you struggle to fit your key into the lock. A jolt of adrenaline surges through Spencer and in the blink of an eye he’s on his feet and sprinting to his bathroom in the name of authenticity. If he wants to keep up this ridiculous façade, and he really, really does, Spencer is prepared to fake it until he makes it. The alternative is far too mortifying. Failure is not an option.
Spencer cringes when he lifts his eyes to meet his reflection. He’s been told more than once that he’s an absolutely terrible liar, and the wide, guilty eyes that stare back at him confirm this. All it will take is one look at him and you’ll know something’s amiss. Perhaps it isn’t too late for Spencer to come clean. It would be embarrassing, yeah, but no less embarrassing than it would be an hour from now when you call him on his shit. But then again, there is always the possibility that you will get angry with him and leave, and Spencer isn’t willing to risk you walking away from him. Not tonight.
Spencer barely has the time to splash some cold water on his face and dive to the bathroom floor before you’re pushing open the door to his apartment and calling out his name. His brain, the part that isn’t rendered useless in his panicked state, reminds him of just how many germs can be found on the average bathroom floor. It’s enough to make him pause, but only for a moment. He takes a deep breath before slumping over against the toilet.
Showtime.
“M’ in here,” Spencer calls out in his croakiest voice. It comes out exactly as he intended, all rough and pitiful. Maybe he can pull this off, after all.
The soft pitter patter of your bare feet makes his heart rate increase exponentially. Spencer steels himself, recites a reassuring mantra in his head. I can do this; I can do this.
Spencer’s poor, overworked heart gets a much-needed rest when you step into the doorway. In fact, he’s almost certain it stops completely at the sight of you in a tiny red dress. A tiny red dress that leaves very little to the imagination. Spencer can’t even see past his mounting panic to enjoy the way you look. That damn red dress serves as a brutal reminder of why he’s sitting in his bathroom floor, clutching his toilet bowl and damn near drowning in a nervous sweat.
The thing is, Spencer hadn’t intended on sabotaging your date with the vet. He had every intention of staying in, wallowing in his sorrows and waiting up for you. Spencer even said this to Derek, who was kind enough to call him and remind him of how big of a jackass he was. Spencer didn’t need the reminder. He was well aware.
But then Derek said something that made Spencer’s blood run cold.
“And what exactly do you plan to do if she doesn’t come home?”
So, really, it’s Derek’s fault that Spencer promptly ended the call and dialed your number. It’s also Derek’s fault that Spencer is about to give the most convincing performance of his entire fucking life.
“I’m sorry I called you, but I didn’t know what else to do. I just feel so awful.” And he does feel awful, just not in the way you think.
You’re quick to close the distance between the two of you, dropping to your knees and brushing stray pieces of hair away from Spencer’s clammy forehead. His skin sings where your hand grazes it. If he didn’t have a fever before, he will if you don’t stop touching him.
“Don’t ever apologize, Spence. I wish you’d have called me sooner,” you murmur. Warm, concerned eyes drag across Spencer’s bedraggled appearance. “How long have you been feeling sick?”
Spencer gulps. “A few hours, I guess. I ate my leftovers from last night for lunch. Maybe that’s what’s wrong.”Lies, lies, lies!
Your brow furrows. “That’s strange. I ate mine, too, and I feel fine.”
Spencer doesn’t really have an argument for that, so he fakes a pained groan and rests his head against his arm. He closes his eyes and prays the intro to theater class he took in high school will pay off.
You must deem his act convincing enough because you press a soft kiss to the top of his hair and stand. Spencer hears the sound of a cabinet opening, followed by the sound of running water.
The tender touch of your hand on his shoulder has him raising his head and looking up at you, inquisitive. You place a cold washrag to his forehead, and Spencer melts into the touch. It feels heavenly against his hot skin.
“Do you think you could manage to take a shower?” you prompt, earning a feeble nod from Spencer. He doesn’t even have to fake the way he trembles as you run the damp cloth down his neck. “I think I have some broccoli and cheddar soup at my apartment. I’ll go change and grab it while you shower.”
Elation spreads through Spencer, pouring from his heart until it reaches the very tips of his extremities. He can’t believe his scheme hasn’t blown up in his face already.
With the help of your outstretched hand, Spencer rises to his feet and braces himself against the shower door. You make no move to remove your hand from his, and that gives him the courage to ask his next question.
“What about your date?”
You shrug and an easy smile spreads across your face. Spencer feels faint. He blames it on his imaginary illness.
“Don’t worry about that. The only thing I’m concerned with right now is taking care of you.”
Spencer bites down hard on the flesh of his cheek to keep a smug grin at bay. This is a victory he’ll have to celebrate at a later date.
--
Spencer enters his living room, freshly showered and donned in clean pajamas, to the sound of your voice speaking quietly into your cellphone. He halts just before he enters his kitchen, straining to catch a snippet of your conversation. As he leans closer to the sound of your voice, Spencer halfheartedly chastises himself. First, he deceives you, now he’s resorting to eavesdropping. Rock, meet bottom.
He’s just about to wrench himself away and retreat to the couch, when:
“I really am sorry about cancelling, especially on such short notice.” A short stretch of silence follows. “Next Saturday? Oh. Um, yeah, I’ll let you know, okay?”
Spencer is very much like a popped balloon; the earlier feelings of elation leave him in a harsh gust. Next Saturday? He barely managed to derail this Saturday’s date! No way he could get away with it a second time.
In the midst of his inner turmoil, Spencer misses you exchanging goodbyes with the vet before collecting Spencer’s bowl of soup. He’s still standing there, absolutely crestfallen, when you round the corner. You nearly collide with his chest, narrowly avoiding it by skidding to a halt in front of him. Your eyes run up his frame, assessing him, until they rest on his face.
“You scared me, Spence,” you chuckle. You cock your head to the side. Spencer imagines his expression is none dissimilar to that of a disgruntled frog. “You feeling okay? You’re not going to puke again, are you?”
Honestly, he might. The idea of you rescheduling your date with the vet is about as vomit inducing as it gets.
“I’m fine,” Spencer says on an exhale. Funnily, it’s probably the biggest lie he’s told all day. “The shower helped.”
His delivery is flat, but you don’t seem to mind. You smile up at him, relieved, and Spencer’s chest aches.
“I was thinking you and I could watch a movie?” you offer, and Spencer nods his assent. He can’t fathom turning you down. Not when you’re wearing an old sweatshirt you stole from his closet and a pair of fuzzy socks with little hearts on them. The ache intensifies.
“What are we watching?”
You plop down on the couch and look at him expectantly. He follows in suit, settling in beside you.
“I was thinking that you could choose,” you murmur as you place the bowl in his hands. Spencer shoots a teasing smile your way as he raises the spoon to his mouth.
“You mean, you’re actually going to let me pick the movie? I should get sick more often.”
His cheek earns him an exaggerated roll of your eyes.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mutter. “You always pick the movie.”
He can count on one hand the amount of times he’s gotten to pick the movie.
Spencer is about to launch into an impassioned rebuttal when the feeling of your fingers scratching against his scalp renders him speechless. His eyes dart to your face as you concentrate on scrolling through the TV guide, seemingly unaware of the effect the simple act has on him. Meanwhile, Spencer’s brain is short-circuiting.
You begin to read off a list of potential movies to him, but Spencer barely hears you. He’s practically purring as you twirl his curls around lithe fingers, his eyes threatening to flutter closed as an intense feeling of euphoria washes over him. Maybe it’s because he’s touch starved, or maybe it’s because it’s been so long since someone just looked after him. Whatever it is, Spencer embraces it wholeheartedly.
“-heard it’s pretty good. So, what do you say, Spence?”
Spencer pulls himself back to the present, blinking lazily at you. You’re looking at him, expectant, and Spencer’s eyes flit to the TV. His eyes skim its contents, reading briefly about a movie in which some family moves into a haunted house.
His face breaks out into a grin and he nods, because Spencer’s known you long enough to recognize that watching a horror movie usually results in you pressed tightly to his side and clinging to his hand. He also knows that nine times out of ten, you choose to watch a horror movie over anything else. No wonder he always lets you choose.
And sure enough, not even ten minutes in, Spencer is ditching his bowl of soup and pulling you into his arms. Once you’ve draped a blanket around the two of you settled in, you glance up at him.
“How are you feeling, Spence?”
Spencer responds by saying that he’s suddenly feeling much better.
Spencer Reid - 1, Veterinarian – 0
--
Spencer’s not sure at which point he fell asleep. All he knows is that he certainly does not remember sprawling out across your body, nor does he remember tucking his head into the crook of your neck. But this is how he finds himself when the sun begins to pour in through his windows the next morning, and Spencer can’t bring himself to care about how he came to be there.
Spencer guesstimates that it’s no later than seven in the morning. You’re still fast asleep underneath him, your chest rising and falling rhythmically with every breath. It’s early, and it’s Sunday, and Spencer can’t think of a single reason to wake you. Instead, he snuggles in closer, because he’d be a fool not to enjoy this while it lasts.
Unfortunately, the shrill sound of Spencer’s ringing phone shatters the serenity. He prays that it won’t disturb you, that you’ll remain oblivious and continue to sleep, but that hope is shattered when you begin to shift underneath him. Spencer makes quick work of peeling himself off of you before dashing to his kitchen and snatching his phone off the table.
He’s prepared to verbally assault whoever has the audacity to defile the sanctity of lazy Sunday mornings when a quick peek into the living room finds you still fast asleep on his sofa. He smiles, soft and fond, before pressing the accept button and bringing the phone to his ear.
“Hello?”
“I was beginning to wonder if you were still alive.” Spencer’s smile transforms into a grimace. Apparently, Derek Morgan doesn’t believe in lie-ins. “I was preparing myself for a rescue mission.”
“It’s seven in the morning. I was asleep.”
Derek lets out a low whistle. “Who pissed in your Cheerios, Pretty Boy?”
“You, when you decided that it was acceptable to ring me before eight,” Spencer whisper shouts. He knows that he’s being touchy, to say the least, but who can blame him? Five minutes ago, he was cuddling with the most beautiful girl he’s ever had the privilege to lay eyes on. Now, he’s shooting the breeze with a colleague. Obviously, Spencer would prefer the former to the latter.
“Jesus, kid. I’m going to take a wild guess and say that girl of yours didn’t make it home, after all. You okay?”
The guilty feeling returns and Spencer cringes. “Uh, define ‘okay.’”
Derek curses on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry, kid. Try not to beat yourself up about it, okay? There’s plenty of fish in the sea, you’ve just gotta put yourself out there. How’s this; you and me will go out next weekend and bar hop. I’ll teach you some Derek Morgan tricks of the trade. Soon enough, you’ll have forgotten all about her.”
“I don’t know, that might be hard.” Spencer scratches the back of his neck. “She’s asleep on my couch right now.”
A long stretch of silence comes from the other end of the line, and Spencer thinks for a moment that the call dropped. Unfortunately, he isn’t that lucky. A booming laugh erupts from the speaker and makes him jump out of his skin.
“My man!” Derek laughs, incredulous. “I didn’t think you had it in you, I’ll be honest.”
“It’s not what you think-”
“How did you manage that? Did the Good Doctor make a grand romantic gesture? Damn, I really hate that I missed that.”
“No, there were no gestures. And it’s not-”
Derek cuts him off. Again. “How’d she take the news? I’m assuming she took it well, if she stayed the night.”
“I didn’t tell her anything!” Spencer spits out, frustrated. “I… I told her I was sick. She came over to take care of me, and we fell asleep on the couch.”
Spencer’s proclamation is met with another long silence.
“So, you sabotaged the date?”
Spencer winces. “I did not sabotage it. I just… manipulated the situation a little.”
“Oh, you certainly did,” Derek chuckles. “How did you pull that off? I’ve seen you try to lie. That shit is laughable.”
Spencer opens his mouth to defend himself, but the pitter patter of socked feet approaching him from behind has his mouth running dry.
“Yeah, Spencer. How did you pull that off?”
Spencer had been correct in his earlier assumptions. The inevitable moment in which you called him out on his shit has arrived, and it’s every bit as mortifying as he expected. So mortifying that he can practically feel the blood drain from his face. And the thing is that he knows he deserves whatever you’re about to throw his way… it’s just that the thought of you being angry with him kind of makes him want to cry. And that would only add to the mortification.
He turns around slowly, his body rigid, until he’s met with the adorably rumpled vision of you with your arms crossed and your hair sticking up in all directions.
Spencer’s never seen anything quite so mesmerizing, and it hurts because he knows he’s ruined everything. He’ll never get to watch another scary movie with you tucked neatly against his side, or wake up in your arms again. He’ll never get to kiss you.
And the worst of all; Spencer will never get to tell you how he really feels. It’s a crying shame, because he thinks he could have been really good at loving you.
“Hey, Derek, I gotta go.”
Spencer presses the end call button and immerses himself in what has to be the most awkward stand-off of all time. You stand there, arms crossed, head cocked to the side with one hip jutted out. Spencer isn’t sure how you manage to look intimidating and endearing at the same time. He supposes the fuzzy socks are to blame.
Minutes pass, but they feel like hours. Spencer is approximately three seconds away from dropping to his knees and groveling when you finally speak.
“You sabotaged my date.”
Spencer lets out a strangled laugh. Perhaps humor is the way to go? It couldn’t hurt to try. In his opinion, the situation couldn’t possibly get any worse. “I think sabotage is a strong word. I prefer the term obstruct.”
You let loose a laugh of your own, but this one holds no humor. “And I prefer keeping the company of people who don’t lie to me.” Okay, maybe it can get worse.
Spencer visibly deflates. It was a stupid idea. He’s never been a funny guy.
“I am so, so, so incredibly sorry.” Sorry for lying to you, that is. Spencer isn’t in the least bit apologetic for ruining your date. Given the chance, he’d do it again - in a more tactful way, of course. Preferably, in such a way that didn’t involve him laying in his bathroom floor.
Spencer attempts to take a step forward, only to be rooted to the spot when you fix him with a look. He’s not funny but he is smart – smart enough to know better than to push it.
“Why did you do it?”
Spencer was really hoping you wouldn’t ask that.
“I-I…”
Apparently, an eidetic memory doesn’t stand a chance when it comes to confrontations involving pretty girls. One quirk of an immaculately plucked eyebrow and Spencer loses the ability to recall a single word of the English language. It’s tragic, really.
“Spit it out, Spencer.”
“I didn’t want you to go on the date.” It’s like ripping off a band aid, the way the words tumble from his lips. It’s painless at first, but then the sting sets in when he realizes what he’s done.
Your lack of reaction doesn’t help. Your face remains passive, as if he didn’t just offer himself to you on a silver platter. Spencer squirms uncomfortably.
“Why didn’t you want me to go on the date?”
God, this is excruciating. You’re clearly out for blood, and the twinkle in your eye shows just how much you’re enjoying this. Spencer would have never taken you for a sadist.
“Because…” Spencer trails off and allows his eyes to drift closed. If he’s going to do this, he’s going to do it his way. With his eyes closed, because he can’t bear the thought of looking you in the eye when you reject him. “B-Because I like you. A lot.”
Spencer hasn’t had a lot of practice at being wrong. In fact, he’s spent the majority of his life being right. It seems the universe is making up for that now, because he can’t seem to get a single goddamn thing right today.
You laugh at him. You actually laugh in his face. Mortified doesn’t even begin to cover it.
“You like me.” It isn’t a question.
Spencer keeps his eyes shut tight.
“Y-Yeah.”
You know how they say if you take away one of a person’s senses, all of the others are heightened? Spencer couldn’t disagree more. In the midst of his despair, he’s completely unaware that you’ve crossed the room and are now standing directly in front of him until you speak again.
“Well, that’s rather unfortunate,” you sigh. Spencer inhales a sharp breath when he realizes you’re close enough to touch. Still, he keeps his eyes closed.
“Uh, why is that?”
Spencer nearly jumps out of his skin when your hand reaches up and caresses the side of his jaw.
“Because, Spencer,” you murmur, silky and sweet. “I was hoping you just might love me.”
Spencer’s eyes fly open and he’s greeted by a lazy, contented smile. It’s similar to the one that greeted him when he opened his front door on that very first day, but it’s better somehow. Later reflection will determine that it’s better because it’s the kind of smile reserved just for him. And that’s all he’s ever wanted, really.
“W-What?”
“You heard me.” You tilt your head up and rest your palm on Spencer’s chest. His heartbeat is erratic, thundering hard against his ribcage. He’d surely be embarrassed if he wasn’t about to faint from shock. “Do you love me, Spencer Reid?”
Spencer doesn’t even have to think twice.
“More than anything.”
“Good.” Your thumb brushes across the apple of his cheek, eliciting a full body shudder. “I was beginning to think you would never catch up.”
Spencer must be hallucinating. That, or this is all a dream and any second now his alarm is going to go off. He subtly pinches himself on the thigh to test the theory. You can imagine his surprise when nothing changes. He doesn’t wake up in a pile of his own drool, and now the skin on his thigh stings.
“You . . . You like me, too?”
You shake your head. “No, Spencer. I love you, too. Why do you think I bake you cookies and spend all of my free time in your apartment?”
“Because my couch is better than yours?” Spencer deadpans.
“I mean, that certainly doesn’t hurt. But it’s not the only reason.”
“What about the vet?” It must be his guilty conscious talking, because Spencer cannot conjure up any other reason he has for asking such a moronic question. He, personally, could not care less about the vet. Full offense intended.
“Cameron is a nice guy, sure,” you trail off. Spencer doesn’t miss the way your eyes drift down to his lips before returning to his eyes. “But he’s not really my type.”
“And what is your type, exactly?” A giddy grin finds its way to Spencer’s face. He’s notorious for being chronically clueless, but even the master of imperception himself can see where this is going.
You snort, and it’s adorable. “Liars, apparently.”
It’s impossible to determine who moves first, but that doesn’t really matter. What does matter is the end result of Spencer’s lips colliding with yours. It’s earth-shatteringly lovely; slow and sweet and tentative. There’s no rushing, no frantic fumbling of hands. Just the reverent drag of your lips against his, warm and intoxicating.
Spencer eventually regains the use of his limbs and when he does, he’s snaking one arm around your waist as the other entangles itself in your wonderfully unruly hair.
You sigh a happy sigh against his lips and Spencer’s heart soars. In a completely unforeseen turn of events, the possibility of more lazy Sunday mornings is now back on the table. Thank God he’s better at lying than he gave himself credit for.
God, and Derek Morgan’s meddling ass.
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