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concealed-carrie · 2 years ago

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First of her Name

Liliam Abraxis Nightcore starts her morning with wall-to-wall speakers blasting Gustov Holst’s Mars Bringer of War, yawns and stretches like a kitten before clawing her way out of a pile of stuffies. In the bathroom she pops two nano-laced designer estradiol tablets (formulated for D-cups, bubblegum-flavored sweat and maximum iridescence) and stares herself down in the mirror as her pupils dilate and shimmer. An attendant is kneeling outside with her dress, tiara, and a velvet lined box containing her crook and flail. He says she looks positively celestial today, your grace. She tells him thank you, calls him a hugboxer under her breath, and leaves him to do whatever it is he does with the rest of his day.

Her footsteps echo endlessly down coral-gilded palace halls. Mommy and Daddy were topiarists on top of everything else, and this place has been growing unconstrained in their absence. A while back she made a habit of sending expedition teams into the newest sub-basements and outer wings. They always came back wild-eyed and ranting, which made her laugh and helped take her mind off things. She liked listening to the really broken ones the most. When she sent them deep enough they all started to sound the same, coming back with these hysterical sobbing rants about the shadows that make up the world and the blinding light from nowhere that washes them all away. She likes to imagine that they’re right. If nothing else is real then that takes some of the pressure off of her. God, she misses that – should try it again, see if anything’s changed. With the way her servants talk about the job market when they think she’s not listening, it shouldn’t be too hard to get another team together on short notice. This is what she thinks about while perched atop another oversized courtyard statue, vaping and dangling her feet off of the epaulet of the glowering dead man and watching the cotton candy sky until someone shows up to apologetically drag her to court.

There really is something wrong with me, she thinks as the Lord Commander drones on about the state of the war, its supply lines and projected casualties and lack of popular support. She’s watching his sunken face move, wondering at what point in her life she tripped and fell and broke whatever mechanism allows people to enjoy beautiful things. Nothing can simply be good without bringing her own deficiency into sharp contrast. The palace, this towering crystal throne, they make her want to vomit. Seeing gorgeous people just existing feels like twisting a knife in her guts. She has no idea what she looks like. Staring into space, drumming her fingers on a bismuth armrest, each impact activating her nail polish’s procedural palette algorithm. Violet. Platinum. Jungle. Midnight. Ivory. Sunset. She makes brief eye contact with one of her red-cloaked security detail, imagining that behind their jade locust mask and relentlessly disciplined body language is someone just as bored out of their skull as she is. The old fuck’s trying to get her attention again, gesticulating in that overly-grandiose way that makes her shiver with revulsion. She imagines how much better he would look flayed and hanging by his ankles from the palace gates -- she could do it if she really wanted to, but then she’d just have to replace him with someone equally insufferable. Mercy it is, then.

She nods along and approves this initiative the Lord Commander is proposing, something about appropriating the biomass of enemy combatants. Sure man yeah sure okay sure whatever. He looks satisfied, gathers up his notes and bows deeply. Your grace. All she can think about is how much this man disgusts her, and now her brain is spinning up this whole narrative. What if he seizes power in a military coup? Pays off all her guards one night and waltzes into her chambers? She’d wake up with moments to live, fluid running down her face from where he’s buried a knife deep in what used to be her eye socket. A death deliciously unbefitting of royalty. He’s leaving now, and the next pathetic sycophant is taking his place. This one’s inviting Liliam to an exclusive cocktail party at her fortress-colosseum, but her grace is too checked out to even get excited at the hinted possibility of gladiatorial pits. It’s not worth enduring an airship full of plastic people kissing her ass and calling her gorgeous. The lady leaves, dejected, probably already planning some other angle from which to wriggle her way into the princess regent’s good graces. And so on, and so on, and so on. Everyone wants something and everyone thinks the thing they want is the most important thing in the world. All of them are scared and most of them aren’t even scared of her. Pearl. Mango. Teal. Gunmetal. Gore.

By the time the sun dips low enough to paint the throne room in hallucinatory pink-yellow-purple through its westward stained glass atrocity, Liliam has made up her mind to go clubbing tonight. She’s craving the release, and besides, what kind of ruler would she be if she didn’t mingle with the common folk now and again? So once the doors have been triple-locked and every would-be social climber has shuffled off back to their respective limos and carriages and luxury airships, she wastes no time slipping out of her glamourweave and into plain fabric and studded leather. Analog cosmetics are considered laughably anachronistic at her social stratum, but by the grace of heaven her improvised wings and eyeshadow turn out okay. Dagger at her hip, like always. 18 milligrams of experimental combat stimulants under the tongue and she’s ready to go.

Liliam has a standing order on one of her intelligence agencies to surveil every drinking den in the city and compile a list ranked by frequency of violent incidents. Her M.O. is to bounce back and forth between a few of the top contenders over the course of a night, thus maximizing her chances of getting some action. Tonight, though, her blood is already boiling. There’s tension in her chest and reverb in her skull. She needs this too bad to leave it up to chance.

She leans back and lets the chemicals inside her hold her aloft, sweeping her along on a tide of alcohol and anticipation and false starts to 2:00 AM, depositing her on this smoke-filled mezzanine where nothing matters but the present tense and she’s weaving through an avalanche of bodies towards the most beautiful woman she’s ever seen. If the music were about twenty decibels lower you could have heard her gasp at the sight of this girl: a study in leather and mesh and steel, face smeared into something resembling divinity under the kind of multifractal strobe lighting you can only get by running a live current through a caged plasma-nymph who had plans for how the rest of her life was supposed to go. Close now, almost close enough to touch, Liliam sees gunmetal glint between layers of dark fabric accentuating the stranger’s thighs. Reticle-pupils tighten with focus as she turns to look at her. Implants like that in this part of town, she’s probably a combat veteran. A gleaming razor blade just waiting for something to slice apart.

In a few hours she won’t remember which one of them dropped the opener, which one made the other laugh first, who offered to buy the next round. Sense-memories dominate. As they talk, the noise of the club forces them close enough to feel each other’s breath. Liliam’s heartbeat outpaces the relentless double-bass of the pre-war industrial metal pouring over the speakers. Need burns white-hot through the core of her being, but the particulars of that need keep changing with the strobe light. She needs to strip for this mystery woman or needs to gouge her eyes out or run home and change into a hoodie or get taken back to her apartment like a hunting trophy and tied to her bedframe. She needs her ribs cracked open or her dick sucked, she needs to fall asleep tonight in this stranger’s arms, or with her arterial blood drying on her face.

And she’s watching those vantablack lips, struggling to make out every third word, but the contents of the conversation are just pretense, right? This is two strangers establishing first humanity, then cordiality, then desire, until one of them asks the other if they’d like to step out back for a breath of fresh air.

Now there is cold stillness crisp on her tongue and in her sinuses, bags of trash in haphazard piles, decaying brickwork crusted over with graffiti: Redcloaks killed husband, love you too Tessa, fuck the crown fuck the war fuck Liliam. Another couple is out here too, going at it like there’s a way out down each other’s throats. Liliam fills her lungs and howls at the sky, hoping it carries past all the holographic pastel infojunk to the stars beyond. Her razorgirl glances back at her, eyes dancing.

“So, sweetie, what are you waiting for?” Perfect pitch, perfect resonance, perfect delivery from a perfect face. It wasn’t just the lighting. Secrets of the universe written in the sacred geometry of her cheekbones.

A split second non-decision later and Liliam’s dagger is in her hand. She plunges forward, letting stimulant-buzz and artificial muscle memory take over. There is motion, then impact, and then tearing fabric accompanied by the spine-twisting screech of sharp metal glancing off military-grade porcelain.

Then, after an interminable microsecond, the telltale ping of a spring-loaded blade being reflexively deployed from somewhere inside the other woman’s body.

Liliam thinks, okay, so I guess I’m the one who doesn’t get to go home tonight. Better this girl does me in than anyone else. An honor, really. Her only regret is that she won’t be around to laugh at the ensuing succession crisis. She braces for a retaliatory strike, but instead of slitting her open like she ought to Razorgirl just takes a few steps backward, one hand over her mouth. Her other arm is at her side, thirteen inches of wickedly curved sigil-etched hellsteel hanging limply from the elbow.

“Okay okay okay okay okay-” Razorgirl is muttering to herself like a sample on loop, face carved into a mask of shock. Liliam risks an embarrassed glance down the alley. The only other sound is the low thrum of a royal warship passing far overhead. The other couple hasn’t even come up for air.

“Go on,” Liliam offers, gesturing to the blade,“Show me what that thing can do.” No response but more of that vocal white noise. “What’s the matter? I just tried to kill you, don’t you want some payback?”

The other woman shakes her head no.

“Are you serious?” she says, impatience creeping into her tone, “I know you have enough hardware in there to splatter me across that wall. Just fucking do it.”

“I don’t want to hurt anyone. I don’t want to hurt you.” Razorgirl’s eventual reply is small, unsteady. Infuriating.

“Fine. Whatever, you fucking tease. Maybe don’t flag like that if you’re just gonna pussy out.” Liliam slides down into an intersection of brick wall and dumpster, suddenly acutely aware of how much the world is spinning and how much her head feels like it’s being crushed in a drill vise. Through the haze, she sees the other woman’s posture change as she carefully folds her blade back into her arm. She looks down at her with, oh god, is that pity? Lilium feels bile rising in the back of her throat.

“Sweetie, are you… okay? Can I-”

“Go. Just go. Get the fuck out of my sight.”

Neon paints double-images in puddles of filth as she sits alone, a heavy fog of rejection settling over her shoulders like a weighted blanket soaked in piss. It hasn’t fully hit her yet, but she knows that once she gets into that four poster bed and pulls the curtains closed she’ll crumble. Trills of laughter drift over to her. Joyful. Mocking. Right, of course, those star-crossed lovers from earlier. She fumbles in the half-light for a moment before her fingers find sweat-slick ivory. She takes her dagger, holding the slender blade tight against her chest. Then she staggers to her feet, face breaking into something that could be mistaken for a grin. Maybe she will end up having some fun tonight.

Halfway back to the palace and there she is, cresting the skyline: Liliam Abraxis Nightcore, first of her name, rendered four hundred feet tall in solid light. The skyscraper princess smiles like an angel, like your mother or your daughter, flashing a photoshop-perfect set of teeth. On one arm she bears a golden aspis, ready and willing to protect the innocent citizens of the realm. In the other she holds a blazing torch, lighting the way to a better future. In lieu of a halo, her head is crowned by a smattering of ten thousand point sans serif text which reads: SHE WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR YOU. WHAT WOULD YOU DO FOR HER? followed by a toll-free number that redirects to the nearest recruiting station. Back at street level, flesh-and-blood Liliam doubles over. She tries steadying herself with her hands on her knees, smearing blood all over her pants and soaking them through. Her stomach contracts, but only alcohol comes up.

#story #old writing #not really empty spaces #but kinda?#ES-adjacent

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erineverly · 1 year ago

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“well, this song has been a long time coming. it took awhile— since i’ve been a kid in high school actually. but i never decided to dig it back up and perfect it until something, someone came to help complete it.” he rambles vaguely to the crowd, about to pour all of his feelings out so openly like this has him feeling nervousness turning and twisting in his gut. “happy birthday, erin.” the singer speaks through the microphone to the stadium where hundreds of people watch with intrigue, long fingers beginning their slow trail along the keys of his piano that begin to fill the stadium with a sad, stormy chime…one key at a time until the tune picks up. but one that also signals there can be a light at the end of a rainy day. if she would just be willing to work on it with him. after all, it’s based off her and her month of november. / the first birthday ask! set after 1990? verse: (??) but imagine she is backstage somehow getting to listen or something like that. maybe they’re getting along enough for her to come over this day or 👀 idk up to you how it works dkskks.

standing in the wings, her pale blue eyes alight with curiosity, her smile subtle albeit warm, dark ringlets cascading down her back, 𝑒.𝑟𝑖𝑛 feels a combination of anxiety and anticipation stir deep within her soul when 𝒂.𝒙𝒍 begins to speak. she absently laces her fingers together, pressing her bare shoulder against a stack of drum cases twice her size and shifting her weight so that she can lean against it. to say that his monologue has managed to catch her by surprise would be an understatement. they reconciled only a few months ago and have been friends ever since, trying to extinguish those old feelings that sometimes threaten to take over their hearts. the ticket, that of course came with a backstage pass, to the los angeles show was more than enough for a birthday gift. never in her wildest dreams did she imagine that he’d give this very sentimental speech and dedicate the most beautiful of his songs to her. his words, deep voice amplified by the microphone, resonates through her entire body before ever reentering through her ears, sending ripples of electricity skittering down her spine. as his fingers begin to skim over the piano keys, she finds it impossible to move or take her eyes off of him, even as they begin to fill with tears. the sky above is now darkening into bleakness, clouds gathering. the air is heavy and warm, but the night is fragrant with the promise of rain. even the sky is getting emotional, she thinks to herself but can’t really blame mother nature for feeling this way, discreetly wiping at her cheeks. she wonders if he can see her with all the lights focused directly on him, probably not, but blows him a kiss regardless. maybe they still can find a way…

#rcsechild #answered.#birthday.#OMGOSH!! THE WAY I SQUEAKED WHEN I SAW THIS NOTIFICATION :'))) you're the sweetest!! thank you so so so much! erno feels so loved :)#just two friends who hang out and occasionally dedicate sad love songs to one another :) lol typical red and curl #idk what verse or year but sjkfdsj ITS THE MOST ADORABLE THING EVER :)))) HAPPY BIRTHDAY ER #SOMEONE came to help me complete it :)#you're so creative bye :') loved this sm

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plush-rabbit · 4 years ago

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Aphrodisiac Induced Reader + The Brothers

A/N: The brothers!! I hope yall enjoy!! Aphrodisiac induced is always a fun thing to play with. The brothers,, my beloved

You really should have known better than to take food that was offered by Beel. You know that he has the right intentions in mind- that him sharing food is a miracle of itself and rejecting him would have his brows furrowed and lips pursed into a pout- but he’s also gluttony. He can eat whatever he wants and as much as he wants without so much of a stomach ache. You, on the other hand, cannot. You should have seen this coming when the cupcake you bite into filled your mouth with such an indescribable sweetness that it made your teeth ache, the flavor otherworldly and leaving you hungry for me, taking greedy bites out of the cutely decorated pastry. There was a sharp pang in your stomach, your body on fire and sex dripping with every nudge that your body made.

You couldn’t be alone right now- or maybe you should have been left alone, maybe that would have saved you from humiliation of your dripping arousal that was leaking past your slit. You’re quick to rise, standing on shaky legs, curled over as your cheeks burn, sweat beading against your skin, only worsening the sensitive state that you are in. It’s fast-acting, making your breaths come out in heated gasps, and everything just feels a bit too much, just too good for it to be normal. An aphrodisiac- a strong one that is making you impossibly aroused. You suck in a sharp breath and go to the person who you know will treat you right.

Lucifer:

Lucifer is a gentleman- most of the time at least. But during your time of need he is perfect to go to. He’ll allow you- or more like insist- that you stay in his office until the aphrodisiac’s effects have passed. You’ll lay on the couch, face buried into a throw pillow while the other one is between your legs. Shame has long been gone since you’ve entered his domain, his eyes never really leaving your shaky frame. When you moan his name, he stiffens, the pen in his hand is held tighter but he still rises, walking towards you in concern. He’ll sit beside you, let his hand curve over your forehead, feeling the heat go through his glove.

He clears his throat, pulling his hand away, and there’s this heavy look on your face, the pillow squeezed tight between your legs, the pillow under your head has faint imprints of your teeth. He’ll avoid touching you, pulling his hand away from you and walking briskly to his desk chair. He can hear your steps across the floor, the way you gasp his name and seem to rub your thighs together for any sort of friction. He won’t spare you a glance, eyes focused on the paperwork in front of him. Underneath the desk, his leg jolts as you snake your arms around his shoulders, your lips wet as they touch his neck.

There isn’t enough time in the day and night for him to focus on his work and on your growing needs that are starting to mark everything in his office. Black ink scratches along the pape, the letters growing shaky as you snake your way onto him. He’s actually startled when you situate yourself on his lap, your sex pressed against his erection. He’s surprised by your sudden confidence but writes it off due to the effects of the aphrodisiac. You’re above him, arms snaked once more on his shoulders and you play with the hair that rests on the nape of his neck.

The feeling of shame is not foreign to the Avatar of Pride but even then, letting you know that he is indeed aroused given the situation does bring a bit of heat to his body. His hands find their way to hold onto your hips, trying to ignore the way that you have begun to grind against his. But there is work to do and despite the growing need to pleasure both you and himself, he displaces you, ignoring the way that you call his name and can’t seem to stop touching him.

The only way to gain his attention that you desperately long for is to push him away, the wheels locking against an edge of the floor and you bend yourself over the desk. Lucifer wants to throw you out so you can be another’s problem but you pull your bottom layer off, your fingers searching inside your leaking hole and pride starts to fuel him. You touch yourself in front of him, beg for him to touch you- of course you would. Slender hands come to touch your body, and you’re already leaking onto the floor, thick, sweet arousal staining the very room that he allowed you to enter. His cock is against you, rimming around your entrance, hearing your cries and please for him to simply fuck you but you did cause him to become distracted from very important work and he is going to punish you for that.

Mammon:

Of course you’d go to him. He is your first after all, why wouldn’t you go to The Great Mammon? But wow, he was over his head when you came knocking at his door. Always eager to see and spend time with you, he allows you to enter without seeing the state you’re in. You stagger into his room, holding his hand and stumbling into him and it’s only then that he can smell the sweet, lingering aroma in the air. He wants to believe you’re just trying a new perfume and now it's made you sick, but it’s worse than that when the hand you’re holding moves to your chest. He can feel your rapid heartbeat, the way your body is in flames that can rival hellfire itself, the pained cry of his name as you try to pinch your legs together in the awkward embrace.

Frozen for a moment, Mammon completely blanks on what to do. He can feel your pain, the aching need in your entire body that makes you feel as if you’re going to combust into flames. He doesn’t know whether to touch you or not. But then you cry his name- sobbing it out in broken syllabus and you cry that it hurts and you think you might die and you're in his arms. Your hold on him tightens and he thinks he can leave you to be- let you wait out the excruciating pain in his room until the feeling fades and just thank him with attention or material objects later. He fails to consider that he is weak to you and when you look at him with teary eyes, he falters.

He stutters in his explanation, talking about how he can maybe go out and get you a toy or something- and he promises to be quick, he is the fastest after all. But then the thought lingers and he imagines your sex stretched with some toy that he chose, and his body jerks. Your vision is growing blurrier by the second and the hold on his hand tightens until your knuckles pale. You pull on him, thanking whatever God is watching down on you, that the door to the prized car he keeps in is open. Even he’s unable to know what is going on until you push him inside, crawling onto the back seat, calling his name and begging for him to join you.

In such a closed space, the Avatar of Greed is trying desperately to avoid touching you. He stays seated in the front seat, fingers drumming along the steering wheel. He cares for the car deeply- one of the few things that gives him freedom that is indescribable and yet, here you are. Your sex is leaking, your cries echoing across the closed space and what is music to his ears in his dreams is now a horrible reminder that you are seated behind him, victim to an aphrodisiac. He needs an excuse to touch you, needs to just feel you for a moment and when you threaten to stain the flawless leather seats with your slick, it’s enough for him to crawl to the back seat.

He never realized how crowded it was, how his elbows and knees tend to knock into things. He doesn’t notice how you’ve kicked your shorts off, how your underwear has become dark in color to your dripping sex. You kiss him, and Mammon is weak to you. His hands are on you, the scent overpowering and he promises to keep the touching to a minimum to only touch what you’ll let him touch and kiss where you want him to. But you’re huffing, grabbing onto him and trying to meet his crotch. The windows grow foggy, the car begins to creak but neither of you pay it any mind. It’s cramped and you’re too close but not close enough, you ache to be closer to him, to have him pressed against you until all you can remember is the way that his chest feels against your skin, the warmth of him, and the way his kisses are so tender and feverish all at once.

Leviathan:

Leviathan refuses to make eye contact with you. He won’t even address you. He sits on his desk chair, playing a game that doesn’t need half of the attention he usually gives. You rest inside his bathtub, curled over he presumes, whining and mumbling something that sounds like his name but he can't be so sure nor does he expect you to mumble his name in your current state. But as much as he wants to drown you out, he can’t. You’re too whiny, crying and begging for a solution, peeling your shirt off because it’s too hot. He reasons that’s because of the aphrodisiac because his room is always kept to a cool temperature. So now, he has you topless in his bathtub and the only proof is your shirt that was tossed where he sits and the reflection above, portraying a teasing, blurry image of your torso.

It’s possibly the worst situation for the poor, introverted demon. He finally has you all to himself and you’re in such a needy state and the plot is so close to a top tier hentai of his- Help! My Friend Took a Drug and Now They Won’t Stop Grinding on Me But I Also Don’t Want Them To Stop. But You came to him, you trusted that he would watch over you and whether it was because he kept his room so guarded or because you trust him, he really doesn’t know which. It’s just too muddled for him to believe that you would actively choose him. So, he does what he does best- he immerses himself in a game. The cutest game that he could think of- one that even if he grew and remained hard would make him feel more like a degenerate than he already does. He puts his headphones on and as if everything is trying to punish him, the loading screen takes forever.

The soundtrack plays loud, booming in his headset and effectively drowning you out. But he knows you’re still crying for him- that you're still in the same room with him. The perverted otuka glances up where he can see your reflection and he catches a glimpse of your hands cupping the swell of your chest and his face burns. Had you caught him peeking before? Was this a way for you to play with yourself without actively touching yourself? He can feel his growing arousal, translucent pre-ejaculate spilling past his slit and staining his boxers. It’s humiliating and he hates that the idea of you touching yourself in his room is more than enough for him to get in the mood.

He’s ignoring you- the only way that he can hopefully soften without actually creaming his pants. He avoids your reflection, ignores how your hands grip the curve of the tub until your knuckles pale, how you swing a leg over and it meets the hard layer of the bath, and for a moment, you still. He’s ignoring your decision to remove yourself from the place he rests and staggering to him. When he feels your hands on his thighs, he startles and the game minimizes into a small box. Unaware of what to do in this situation, he freezes, letting his body tense as you crawl onto his lap, your eyes heavy with lust and body feeling so warm above him that he’s unable to breathe.

His breathing is ragged, his hands stopping on the curve of your bum, as he’s unable to look anywhere else but your face. You’re flushed, gripping onto him, your tongue out as you pant and you’re so desperate for his attention that you lean close. His hands raise in an attempt to push you off but as if it were a cliché moment, his hands curve over your chest and you whimper his name at the simple touch. The third born should have been careful, he shouldn’t have let you grind against him and he surely shouldn’t have let himself becomes distracted by a kiss and yet, here he is, undressing himself as you greedily slide yourself onto his cock, your face scrunching up as every scale is pushed further into your aching hole. Leviathan is holding you close, the computer screen dimming as your can fill him spill inside of you.

Satan:

Eager to learn, he knows the effects of what an aphrodisiac can do to a being. So when you come knocking at Satan’s door, begging for refuge, leaning against him and gripping at his shirt, he pats your hand, and welcomes you inside. He allows you to rest on his bed, letting you bury yourself under his blankets. Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea for either of you- you’re inhaling his scent during a time of desperate need, and soon when the effects wear off, he’ll be left in a bed that is drenched in your scent. That, however, is a problem for another day.

In order to keep his mind and hands busy, he’ll finally organize his room. He’s able to ignore your whining, the way that you shiver under the covers and bury yourself into his pillow, how you spread your legs so they are uncovered by the blanket; he ignores the sweet scent of your arousal that fills the room and his lungs. He holds his breath, taking few, deep breaths every now and then to avoid inhaling too much of you. You’re whining, talking through the pillow about how it hurts and you just need something- and doesn’t he have a spell he can use to just rid you of at least a tiny bit of it.

It’s the growing arousal of himself and your constant whining that edges him closer to annoyance. He holds books tight in his hand, orders them by author and published years, height and volumes, but it isn’t enough to drown you out. He regrets letting you enter his room but in the same second, he regrets having the thought. He’s happy that you came to him, trusted him enough to see you in a disheveled state. He doesn’t want to scare you off or make you feel unwanted, so he edges closer to you, tugging on the bottom of his shirt as if he were a nervous boy instead of a grown demon. The bed creaks under his weight and your hand latches onto his thigh. He jerks his leg, your hand only squeezing tighter and when he makes eye contact, your eyes are filled with tears, glistening and catching on your lashes like fresh dew.

You’re aroused, deeply and sweetly. It's a nervous thing to be attracted to someone like you, a demon that has been round and born with blood and wrath etched deep into soul and yet here he is, nervous to even touch your trembling hand. He knows the effects of something as strong as an aphrodisiac and for a demon made one, there is no real spell for it. He lets you lay on his lap, your mouth close to his sex, eyes lidded and holding tight to his hand. His control is fading, his growing need pushing past logical thought. He offers himself, and you rise quickly, already straddling his lap, your chest pressed against his, asking if it is okay. A cold shiver runs through his spine and he nods, offering that he’ll take care of you.

The trembling, nervous demon fades just as quick as it came when your lips are on his. You kiss him, need so transparent that he’s teasing, pulling away, letting your back meet the bed. His smile is sharp, leaning to kiss your pursed lips, grabbing your leg and pulling it upwards, mumbling praise under his breath when you hook your leg around his waist. Satan is heavy when above you, and maybe it’s the aphrodisiac that still lingers on your tongue, but he is unwilling to move away from you, kissing you and hooking his fingers in your mouth when you moan. You’re needy and he wants to hear you beg for him, calling his name. He cups your face with spit coated fingers, asking you to be good for him and mew for him.

Asmodeus:

As the Avatar of Lust, Asmodeus immediately knew something was off in the house when he felt lust in the air. It’s sweet. Intoxicating and bitter all at once. It’s like the sweetest honey known to mankind and he knows the feeling well enough to open his door before you have the thought to knock. He welcomes you into his room, letting you rest on the bed, a small part of him on the inside crinkling when you ruffle the sheets. But, of course, he knows this isn’t you- you would never be so careless. It’s all because of the aphrodisiac making your movements more frantic.

He knows the cure to end it- sex, plain and simple. Masturbation might help but he fears your hand will become sore. Always eager to have somebody in bed with him- out of his own sin and own need for company- he offers you two choices. You can borrow a toy- new, still in the box and all- or he could take care of you. Perhaps he shouldn’t have offered the second option, he knew how excited you were to simply enter a room with another living being but he couldn’t help himself. You look absolutely adorable with your flustered face.

A kiss from the living Avatar of Lust is better than any pleasure that you’ve ever received. And he knows it. You moan under him, your body shaking and eyes rolling to the back of your head, clawing at the shirt on his back. He smiles into the kiss. So eager to be taken care of that a simple kiss was enough to make you climax, your arousal dripping onto your underwear, so heavy in the air, that he pulls away as he feels your breaths start to shorten due to lack of air. But even as he pulls away, you still reach to pepper him with kisses, your breathing reggae against his face, gasping for breath with every parting kiss.

Your hands are on him, eager to pull him into another kiss. You want him and it’s evident from the way that you don’t push away when he removes his clothing. But, he stops for a moment, watching your gaze on him, wide and dazed and you stare at him as if he was something more than just a demon, you give him your worship and you pull him into another kiss. He stiffens, pulling away and asking if this is what you want, touching your bare skin only to flinch away as if it burned him. And when your lips are on him, your smile returns for a moment, telling him that you came to him because you knew he would tend to you in any way, and he melts.

His lips return to yours, kissing you eagerly, wanting nothing more than to just keep his lips on you. And as last time, you shudder beneath him, another orgasm washing through your body, your release spilling pass your slit. Limps entangle with each other and you cry the name Asmodeus, moaning it as if it were the only thing on your mind, sobbing under him and telling him how good it feels. You pet his head and let him bury his face into our chest, peppering kisses until he reaches your neck. His eyes close, an unexpected climax teases at him, as you pull him closer to your aching body. Every sigh from you in a gentle gust of wind, every cry a song that not even choir from the Celestial Realm can rival. He pushes deep inside of you, letting you feel every curve and texture from his cock as it molds your leaking hole into his shape.

Beelzebub:

Beelzebub feels incredibly guilty when you come to him, his shirt knotted in your hands as you explain what you ate. He blames himself, going to hold you only to flinch when you hiss and pull yourself closer to him. It’s an aphrodisiac, he should have known that you’ll be more sensitive to touch during this time. He apologizes as he leads you to his bed, shaking his head and holding your hand. He’s gluttony- he should have been able to smell the scent of an aphrodisiac.

Of course, he’ll let you hide in his room until the effects wear off. He won’t make a single peep but it’s difficult for him. His clothes are sticking to him, his body is in an odd sticky situation where sex clings to him clothes and skin. He knows the effects of the aphrodisiac but he feels guilty for giving it to you so when you cling to him, begging for him to not let go of you, he sighs and stays beside you. He’s stiff, unwilling to move and can only let out a shaky breath, when you press yourself closer to him, hooking a leg over his and curling it over. He can feel your sex- hot and pulsing and he leaves ripped bedsheets as his hand curls into the comforter.

He’s rubbing your back, letting his fingers drum against your spine as he hears your panted breaths. He knows he should stop, that he should at least go and take a shower so he can at least smell good but you hold a tight grip on him. You’re feverish, burning against him and he can tell you want more, your lips open up and kiss along the side of his ribcage but he can’t move.

It’s getting too much- even for him. He doesn’t want to take advantage of this needy state that you’re in but as he rises with a feeble explanation that he’s going to take a shower, you pull him down. He’s above you, your eyes watery and cheating rising and falling with heavy breaths. He can’t kiss you but you’re leaning closer, your lips brushing against his and he can smell the aphrodisiac that still rests like heaven on your tongue. You don’t blame him for the accident slip, you’re just begging for him to take care of you, letting your hand rest over the swell of his breast and he’s growing weaker by the second.

When your lips are on his, your tongue slipping past your lips, Beelzebub can taste the aphrodisiac and he’s melting. His tongue has made its home on your mouth, curving over your pink muscle and feeling the way you shudder beneath him. His name is muted by the kiss, your hands clawing at his clothing and he’s sweaty and aroused, watching you as you strip yourself of your clothes. The lovely pastry that still lingers isn’t enough for him to go into a full rut, but it’s enough for him to bend your legs to your chest, your hole pulsing as his cock aligns to it. The way that you call his name is enough for him to push himself fully into you.

Belphegor:

Belphegor is asleep under the covers, pillow tucked under his head and he does not awaken to your scent growing closer and closer, heavier and sweeter than usual. He doesn’t awaken when the doorknob wiggles, a frantic turning but he does awaken when you slam the door. He is startled awake, his eyes wide for a second before narrowing, teeth flashing as he lets out a low growl. He stops when he notices it's you, yawning and telling you to get into bed with him. It’s only until you’re beside him, greedily taking the invitation, that he realizes the state you’re in.

He has to prod you until you tell him what’s happened, watching as you bury your face into a pillow, whining out pathetically as you tell him what happened. He laughs, it’s sharp and teasing. Of course, you took an aphrodisiac by accident. It could only happen to you. He tries to be sympathetic with you. He knows you must be in a great deal of pain, but then again you came to him and that makes him stay awake for a bit longer, turning over on his side and watching you struggle to not touch yourself despite the aroma of your arousal that is thick in the room.

Sloth offers to put you under a deep sleep- he can’t promise that you’ll be still- but he can promise that you’ll wake up without the effects of the aphrodisiac. When you refuse, he merely shrugs, turning over with a pout. He’s disappointed but he can’t do much. He does tell you that he is tired, so he’ll be sleeping but you’re allowed to spend the rest of your heightened arousal in the attic with him. The power of an aphrodisiac- one made a devil no less- is strong, and giving it you in even worse. He can sense the neediness in you, the way you watch him with lustful eyes, your mouth parted the eagerness to get into bed with him.

As promised, he slips off into a sleep, leaving you alone. But your body is on his, legs parted with his single leg. He isn’t asleep long enough for him to be in an actual slumber before he feels the bed move ever so slightly. It’s constant and your whining, mumbling apologies and he opens his eyes to find you humping his leg. It’s pathetic and hot all at once, watching you get off on his leg alone, so desperate for release that you’ve succumbed to humping him. His smile is tight, turning over and letting his tail curl around you, the static in the air only causing you to arch your back when his demon form pops out. It pricks against your wrists, the fur unkempt as he rises above you.

You wanted his attention and now you’ve gotten it. You’ve woken him up from nap, it’s normal and expected for him to be grouchy but thank goodness that the smell from your leaking sex is more arousing that anything else he’s encountered. You’re on your knees on the mattress, his hips meeting yours and letting out a loud grunt when he finishes. He’s tired and over it but his cock still stands upright and you’re still needy and awake, your sex leaking with his arousal. Belphegor will lay on his back, offer himself in his sleep to you until you’re content. The last coherent thought he has is sighing at how warm and squishy you feel against him.

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infitsovermisfits · 2 years ago

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idk if you’re taking requests rn but if they are could you write an eddie imagine where the reader plays bass in another band is outwardly really intimidating but once he somehow gets to know them they’re really soft and enjoy nerdy things, idk but hopefully you can figure something out lol

Hi! So sorry this took me so long to do anon ;-;

info: this was my first request ever?? fun! I had fun writing this sorry it took me about a week :p working on other things and I'm a little unmotivated but i like this... kinda. It went through a few idorations at one point i deleted all 2000 words because it was just really shit. switched perspectives and made it better ;P. it's.... it's okay :) thank u for the request tho anon!

WARNINGS: gender neutral reader, jason being an asshole and bullying reader,, Eddie being sweet- maybe ooc i really don't know, nerdy stuff. enjoy ? ;P

MASTERLIST

With a sigh, Eddie walked through the all too familiar, empty halls of Hawkins High, eyes flicking over the bright murals on the wall. There was a box in his hands, containing things he had to bring home so he could finish his most elaborate DnD campaign yet. He'd even committed to cancelling a few pick-ups after school so he could do as much work as possible, though he never got around to finishing. He needed this done in time for tomorrow evening. He hummed to himself quietly as he walked towards the exit, that hook from the Welfare song looping again in his head again as he turned the corner. He walked forward, then stopped with a slight frown. This wasn't the right way... How had he missed his usual turn? He'd stayed in this school an extra two years and still somehow got confused with the layout. If there was anyone to see him, he'd likely be embarrassed- but something else caught his attention.

There was music, not in his head, but playing gently through the hall. Through the music notes on the walls around him, he deciphered this was the music corridor, and that the school band was playing... But there was no brass- just the faint sounds of drums, a bass and a guitar. That piqued his interest. Slowly, he walked towards the sounds, mentally raking through the catalogue of songs and cords he had stored to try and figure out what was playing. He found himself outside one of the new practice rooms. He stood on his tip-toes to see through the window at the group inside.

He'd seen you around a few times- he'd said hello and gotten nods or small 'hi's' back from you occasionally, considering you were an outcast too, but he didn't know you could play bass. As if transfixed, he tilted his head, focusing on you. Your nose was scrunched in concentration, but you were beaming to yourself as you played along, shaking your head to the beat of the song. When a particularly challenging solo came up for you, you set all your focus on your slender, practised fingers plucking at the strings expertly and grinning. He had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

His hand lingered over the door handle to the room but didn't touch the cool metal beneath his fingertips. He allowed himself to stay there for a few more moments, before deciding he was being entirely too creepy watching you like this. With a resigned sigh, he moved to stand next to the door, appreciating the music from outside and leaning against a wall. He'd tell you after practice how well you did, and hope his natural charm would help him along to asking you out on a date.

As the song came to a finish he turned to look at the door expectantly, only to hear chattering and laughter inside. He smiled to himself; he couldn't make out what anyone was saying, and he tried his best to try to match which muffled voice was yours. As the door opened he straightened, the voices coming in clearly,

"-and I'm telling you if you play like that tomorrow, we're bound to win," The drummer said excitedly, turning to you as you were pulling a jacket over your shoulders,

"Yeah- if we're even allowed to compete- George's an asshole for not coming to practice today," The sound of your voice made him smile, and he could faintly see you from where he stood. The three band members hadn't noticed him yet, "Shit- what the fuck?" You muttered, shaking your arm. You appeared stuck in the jacket and the wires to some headphones around your neck. The bass you had been playing was sitting, propped up on a stand within the room- you weren't taking it home? "How did I even-"

"Look, we're gonna run," The other guitarist piped up, moving past you and the drummer, "See you tomorrow!" They said as they rushed out of the room, their voices fading away as they left. Eddie glanced at them, blinking to himself. They hadn't seen him- he'd never felt so sneaky in his life. He moved forward, watching you as you groaned, a string of curses leaving your lips as you removed the headphones, setting them on a chair and attempting to untangle them, then proceeding to try to wiggle out of the jacket's arms,

"I can help you if you need!" He spoke up. You winced at the suddenness of his voice and he grimaced, not intending to scare you, "Sorry, I was walking by and-"

"I got it," You said sharply, sighing as you unplugged the walkman hooked to your hip and quickly untangled yourself. You did give him a slight reassuring smile, before quickly putting on your jacket. You disappeared into the room, snatching up the headphones and putting them around your head to rest on your neck,

"Oh. Right..." He said awkwardly, moving to stand in the doorway so he could see you better. You grabbed keys from a nearby surface, hair and loose clothing swinging with your quick movements, "So I was walking by the rooms and I heard you guys practising and I thought-"

"Cool! That's nice," You said, giving him a tight smile as you quickly moved towards him. He moved out of the way, watching you lock the door quickly,

"You haven't even heard what I had to say," He said with a small laugh. He quickly followed after you as you started walking quickly,

"I'm really sorry," You said, turning your head to look at him following you, "I've got a ride to catch- I really need to get home," You gave him an apologetic look, and he nodded,

"That's alright! We can walk and talk," He assured you, managing to keep up with you almost jogging through the halls by taking large strides, "I heard you playing; you're really good," He said,

"Thanks. But we just practice-"

"No, no. I meant you," He said and grinned at the breathless 'thanks' that left our lips, "I mean, your band was great but you really-" You were at the exit already. You almost stumbled into the door, your bag falling from your shoulder and hitting the glass,

"Shit did they lock it?" You hissed, struggling with the door for a moment,

"It's-" He watched you struggle for a moment, seemingly not hearing him, "Hey- it's-"

"What?" You asked sharply, in a meaner tone than intended, turning to cast him a slight glare,

"It's a pull door, not a push," He said, pointing a finger at the sticker. You quickly pushed it and grimaced,

"Fucking... Of course, it is," You huffed, "Sorry for yelling," You said sharply, adjusting your bag and quickly running through the door and down the stairs, "I'll see you around!" You yelled, and he watched you curiously as you yelled apologies to a black van that had begun driving off. As you approached, it violently stopped, and you pulled the side door open and disappeared inside.

"Damn..." He hissed to himself, frowning softly. He hadn't asked you your name before you left. He'd have to ask you next time... Or whenever he saw you next. One thing he did know was that you'd affected him somehow. Maybe you cast some magic spell because he hadn't felt his heart race like that for another person in a while. And so his quest to earn your affections began...

He realised he was being awfully quiet this lunch period, watching you across the room. The band members from the other day weren't there with you, and his mind fumbled for reasons why you were sitting alone at the corner of a table, picking at the lunch in your tray with a plastic fork. You were bopping your head to some music- your hair covered the headphones well. Subconsciously, he kept a wary lookout for any teachers coming to take them from you,

"Helloooo," He snapped back to his table, "Earth to Eddie?" Dustin said, looking at the older student quizzically, "What the hell are you looking at?" His newest recruit asked, and his friend Mike looked over in the direction he had just been. With an annoyed grumble, Eddie picked at the food in front of him,

"You've been quiet all lunch," Gareth asked, "What's happening, dude?" His friend asked. Eddie grimaced, before smiling at them and putting his hands together,

"Gentlemen," He addressed, "I may have just spotted us a new recruit," He said, raising his brows, "See they-"

"You speak like that to your mother, Carver!?" The yelling made him forget the words on the tip of his tongue as he looked back at you, now standing and furious. In the absence of his watchful gaze, you had been surrounded by the basketball team and were glaring furiously at Jason,

"Don't bring my mother into this," He shot back, standing from where he had taken a seat next to you. The whole cafeteria was now watching you intently, whispering amongst themselves,

"Aww, or what?" You taunted, "You gonna go cry to your mommy?" You pouted, smirking devilishly and cackling as his face grew red. Before you knew it, the tray you had was grabbed and thrown at you, and you yelped, the cafeteria erupting with noise and yelling.

The last time Eddie had moved that fast was last Saturday when he thought the cops were gonna bust him for selling to whatever buyer had heard of his business. He thought he'd die, tripping over multiple tree roots as he raced back towards his trailer and hopped through his window. He was a coward- and even though pissing off Jason was just part of the job now, he'd always bail whenever he'd get challenged to a fight. So why now, when he knew he'd gain nothing, was he weaving through the crowd to come to your aid.

How foolish he was to think you needed anything. He saw it before he heard it- your hand quickly moving through the air and connecting with his cheek in a powerful snap that sent Jason reeling to the side. As the crowd now surrounding the spectacle burst into cheers and chants, urging you to fight, he managed to slip past them and grab your arm, pulling you away to safety and losing you in the mass of students, faintly hearing Jason yelling threats at the two of you.

Your hand was warm in his. It was soft. It fit in his perfectly. If he wasn't so focused on taking you to safety, he'd kiss your knuckles and introduce himself like the gentleman he was. Once you were safely out of the crowd and in the far less busy hallways, he felt your hand getting yanked from his. He turned sharply, seeing you frowning as you pulled at the scraps of food lingering in your hair and sticking to your clothes,

"Ugh, Jesus," You muttered, "Gross..." You hissed,

"Hey," He said, "I can take you to the bathroom and give you my jacket," He offered, already preparing to slide it off his shoulders,

"No," He was frankly stunned by the short reply. Your voice had dropped slightly, and you were clearly distressed, shoulders shaking, "I... Just leave me alone, okay?" Your tone was soft with him again, and as you looked up at him from under the hair that had fallen over your eyes, he looked sympathetic,

"Alright," He held up his hands apologetically, "But just so you know uh... That slap was really badass," He said, smiling at you, "I mean wow I'm sure everyone in Hawkins High heard that," He added, smiling wider at the weak laugh you gave,

"I'm pretty sure there'll be a witch hunt if they find me. They won't stop till they have my head on a stick and all," You sniffled, eyes shimmering with tears,

"Right... Well, I know a cosy little spot out in the forest that I could take you to?" He offered, watching you, "Hey," He coaxed gently as he saw you looking off. And when your eyes met his, he felt his heart melt in his chest, "C'mon. I don't bite," He added, and you laughed again, fixing the strap of your bag and walking closer to him.

You were quite the whole walk across the soccer field and kept looking around fearfully. Eddie couldn't help but feel sorry for you- he'd like to know why you were sitting alone today. Why Jason had chosen you as a target. If this usually happened... Why you were this quiet...

"Right here," He said, motioning with his hands to a stray picnic table in the centre of a clearing. Looking back down at you, he saw you pushing your hair out of your eyes to see better. There were tear tracks going down your face, and your eyes were wide as they looked around the area,

"Cozy..." You confirmed, nodding your head. As you turned to look at him, he smiled, motioning for you to walk forward. As your eyes left his, he allowed himself to frown worriedly, watching as you warily approached one side of the bench. You set your bag on the bench and pulled your legs over the wood, sitting down and putting your head on your arms. He walked closer, shrugging his jacket off his shoulders and looking at the thick leather one in his arms. He moved closer to you and gently tapped your arm. Your head shot up to look at him, and he motioned with the jacket,

"For you," He said, placing it carefully over your shoulders, making sure his rings wouldn't get caught in your hair. He patted the shoulders gently, before circling around the bench, "Where's the rest of your band?" He asked curiously, turning his back to you as he walked slowly, not sitting down at first. He walked further into the clearing, glancing at the orange leaves that fall brought along, "I noticed you sitting by yourself and uh... I was gonna come over and invite you to sit with us," He smiled, turning to look at you. Your eyes were still wet and you were looking off into the distance with a misty, far away gaze, "Uhm... Your music! I was supposed to ask you yesterday but you were in a rush," He said, smiling as he began to slowly pace, "I thought you were really great- you played phenomenally up there," He beamed. Your face didn't change at the compliment, "Where'd you learn how to play like that? Did you get lessons or teach yourself?" He walked back over to the bench, "I tried to teach myself how to play at first but I needed more practical lessons-"

"I'm sorry, did you say something?" Your voice was raspy slightly as you spoke up. He blinked, freezing where he stood, one leg over the seat on the bench and his lips parted. His eyes fell to the headphones in your hands, which you pulled off of your head. Right... He gave you a smile and sat down across from you, tapping his hands on the wood,

"Yeah, just uh... Hi, my name is Eddie Munson," He said, reaching a hand out across the table. You set your headphones around your neck, moving a hand to pause the track playing through the device. He could hear it- the same solo he heard you play yesterday. Your hand slid into his and squeezed as he shook your hand,

"Hi Eddie," You greeted, letting his hand go and dropping it to your lap. Your gaze fell to the numerous scratches and crude drawings that marked the wood as you told him your name. He nodded, saying hello back,

"Thought you should know the name of your saviour," He joked, but it didn't seem to land with you as you nodded your head and avoided his gaze. He shifted so both his hands were on the table, one outstretched and the other bent so he could rest his chin in his hand and gaze at you. He felt a warm sensation fill his blood at the sight of you transfixed by the rings on his fingers. Wiggling them, he spoke up, earning your attention again, "You can come here whenever you want," He assured, "Almost no one knows this is here so your safe from the hunting party," He smiled at you reassuringly, watching you nod along.

He still watched you curiously, head tilted to the side as you sat in silence. From the ground shaking by his foot and the way your left arm was moving, he guessed you were tapping your leg anxiously. With a small sigh, he glanced around, looking at your bag and looking over the pins on it,

"So," He spoke up, "You were playing bass yesterday, right?" He asked, and you nodded, "I wanted to tell you you did amazing," Your eyes lit up at that, and a small smile ghosted your lips. There it is, he thought,

"You did?" You asked in a small voice, and he found his heart beat a little faster. He nodded his head with a small hum

"Yeah- I mean, you're basically like Geezer dude,"

"You listen to Black Sabbath?" You asked eagerly, your eyes shining with excitement,

"Are you kidding?" He grinned, "Of course, I listen to Black Sabbath, they're the greatest band ever. I was asking you before if you're self-taught or did you get lessons?" He asked, leaning forward curiously, "Or are you uh... Naturally gifted?" He asked, and you laughed softly,

"I see, I see," You nodded, moving your hands to pull his jacket over your shoulders more "You trying to steal my secrets, Munson?" You asked playfully. His brain stops functioning momentarily and all he can do is let out a small chuckle until the words can form in his mouth. He has to shake his head and collect himself, and when he does, he finds the smile on his face won't leave,

"Ahah- yeah, I... I'm always looking for tips on how to play better myself," He said, smiling, and you nod along,

"Right, right," You said. You begin with a small sigh, "Well, I've always enjoyed music. Listening, playing, singing. It's cause my family's super musical. My mom was in choir and band and my dad had his own band years ago. He's who gave me my sick taste in music," You said playfully, "Mom doesn't mind it but it's 'not her favourite'," You made air quotes, "She's still super supportive and encouraging of me though. We always had this huge piano at home and she'd play it occasionally. Apparently, when I was a baby, hearing music was the only way to get me to sleep," You smiled at him, "When I grew up, she'd let me sit with her and eventually taught me how to play that. Then my dad gave me his old bass and he's been teaching me," You explained

"Woah- so you're still fairly new?" He asked, curiously,

"Well, I wouldn't say fairly new. I never entirely got the hang of guitars because my hands are too small and dainty," You said playfully, moving your hands out in front of you to show him, before wiggling your fingers. Your nails had bits of black nail polish chipping off of them, and there were exactly three rings on your hands- two on your right, one on your left. One was on your thumb, the other on your middle finger; one was on your other middle finger. He wouldn't let his mind wander to how skilled they must be if they can play the piano and bass. He sucked in a small breath and glanced back at your face when you snatched them back, "So my dad thought I'd play better on bass. Once I got the basics down, I'd just practise whenever I had the time. Sometimes I'd... I'd put on the radio and try to play along to any song- even if they didn't have a bassline," You said, before glancing away, "It sounds lame but it's fun-"

"I don't think it's lame at all. It's cool" He said quickly, "It's your way of learning, and helping you get better," He said,

"Yeah?" You smiled, reaching a hand into your bag. He watched your movements for a moment, before speaking up again,

"Yeah, defiantly," He spoke, "You know, I play the guitar too," You looked up at him again, and he held your gaze. In his peripheral vision, he could see your hand moving in the bag, blindly searching,

"Hah- I play bass, not guitar, there's a difference," You said with a sly grin, and he laughed,

"Of course, yes, I'm sorry for offending you- oops," your bag falls over the end of the table, contents spilling on the brown leaves. He instantly bends to help pick up your fallen things,

"Hey, it's fine I've got it," You assured, setting the bag on the table and moving away from the seat to pick things up,

"I'll help," He assured, glancing at you and nodding. You let out a small sigh, but he could see your smile return,

"Thank you so much," You said gently, your hand brushing against his rings as you picked up your books,

"Yeah, no problem..." He straightened, looking over the book you had taken out from the library and plucking a leaf that had come between the pages, "I didn't realise you liked Tolkien," He commented, giving you a look as he held up the copy of 'Lord of the Rings',

"This? Oh yeah- my little brother got it from school and told me to read it to him as a bedtime story but he got bored of it so he returned it before I could read the rest. Think I made it about thirty pages and he was out," You laughed, grabbing the book from him, "I kinda got hooked. Now I just wanna finish it by myself,"

"Haha- right. I get that. It is long, but the details-" He gushed,

"Right?" You grinned, fixing the placements of your school books inside the bag, "All the details he puts in- it's so vivid. It's like he went to Middle Earth himself!" You smiled. He nodded. It was already great enough that you shared a similar music taste, and were in a band, but now that he knew you had an interest in fantasy? He must've done something to appease the big man above because God, you were perfect. The conversation shifted between your shared interests, band, music and fantasy, and that's when he found out you were interested in DnD,

"Hold on, hold on- Dungeons and Dragons?" He asked,

"Yes! Played it at summer camp once and I loved it and- oh my God you just jogged my memory!! Can't believe I forgot about that game," You sighed, "I wonder if anyone still plays it," He stared at you with wide eyes momentarily, "What?" You asked with a grin, "What??" You repeated as he said nothing. He had only brought it up because he felt a strange object beneath his shoe, and when he'd picked it up, it'd been a red and black D20. You had it between your fingers, picking at the mud with your fingernails. He then spread his arms, leaning back and gesturing to his shirt. For a moment you stared confused, eyes flicking down to his chest, "Oh my God!!" You exclaimed as it clicked,

"Yeah," He laughed,

"What the hell- how have we never met before??" You grinned excitedly shifting forward, closer to him,

"I mean I tried yesterday-"

"Shit, I'm so sorry," You gasped, "I-"

"It's alright, you needed a ride, I get it," He smiled, watching you,

"Hold on- what's the time?" You asked worriedly, glancing at the watch on his wrist,

"Mmm, four twenty-eight," He said with a surprised infliction in his voice. He was late to the Hellfire meet up,"

"Fuck!!" You exclaimed, "I have- my band- ugh," You stumbled as you quickly got up, "Shit, shit," You hissed, and he quickly stood too,

"Hey, it's fine," He said quickly, "I c-"

"No! It's not-" You sighed, "Sorry for yelling again, it's just that I have- we have 'Battle of the Bands' tonight and we were all supposed to go and now they're probably gone without me-" You rambled, dropping your bag on the ground and groaning as you picked it back up,

"I'll drive you," He said quickly. Eddie had two priorities in life: listen to good music and don't get caught by the cops. Well, maybe he had more but at this moment, seeing you so nervous made him determined to get you there,

"Wha...?" You questioned, stopping to push hair out of your eyes, "You don't even-"

"Where're you playing?" He asked, taking out his keys and twirling them slightly, the many keychains rattling in his fingers, "Come on- tell me on the way," He said, leading you quickly out of the clearing and to the almost empty parking lot.

Your band members, although angry at your lateness, had calmed when you arrived with Eddie no less. He stayed in the crowd while you played, and you kept making eye contact with each other throughout the show and grinning like idiots. Somewhere in his heart, he knew he'd be bound to you forever. He was willing to drive you to any show you wanted if it meant seeing you so happy and free, playing like you did tonight. And it was a good thing he kept the dice you'd dropped in his pocket so he had the chance to give it to you when you next saw each other. Then again with one of your rings, then again with a necklace, then with various guitar picks. And so forth until you playfully relented and agreed to date him.

Then he didn't need a reason to steal from you anymore. He only did it to piss you off.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things season four #stranger things 4 spoilers #st4 #stranger things spoilers #stranger things season 4

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blipblooopp · 3 years ago

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Let It Be Me

Summary: Choi San is many things. The most talented man you have ever seen. Be it on the dance floor or in front of a mic during a gig. He was the kindest person, always holding the door for the people behind him, helping the elderly carry things, even paying for strangers randomly. He got along famously with your parents and even better with your grandparents. He was charming like that, capturing the attention of anyone and everyone who even looked his way. He’s the love of your life, you’re sure of it but he’s also your best friend. Pairing: Boy Band AU!Choi San x F!Reader Words: 5.6k Genre: Angst/Smut

You’ve heard of a thing called platonic soulmates but it’s taken you years and years of watching Choi San grow to realize you weren’t. Well, you hoped you weren’t. Everything about him made your body erupt into a fire.

San looked at everything with adoration, finding all the good in life, including you. It was a double-edged sword, really. It made you feel special… important. But you could barely concentrate when his eyes were on you.

It didn’t help that he was gifted in pretty much everything; it made you nervous beyond belief. He’s pretty much perfect and as much as you wanted to be with him, you knew the odds of him liking you back were slim to none.

You’ve come to terms with it for the most part. It hurt to see him flirt with girls in front of you, hurt even worse when he started dating this awful girl named Areum. She didn’t give a fuck about him, actually. She barely responded to his calls and texts, going as far as blocking him one time. They fought nonstop. Every time you two hung out, San had a new dilemma to talk about. For some reason, San wouldn’t break up with her.

You had asked him after a night of you two getting drunk together, after another night of listening to his relationship problems. He laughed dryly, taking another sip of his beer, “I love her so much.”

Apparently, it was his “slow-motion” moment. He and his band had been wrapping up the night with their last song, soaking up every second they could have. Halfway through the song, San had noticed Areum in the front row. You were there too so you noticed the look on his face. A look you had never seen him make before. It basically tore your heart out when he told you that he couldn’t get “that beautiful girl” out of his head. She ended up becoming a dedicated face in the crowd so San asked her out.

You would’ve thought they were soulmates from the way they looked in the beginning. Lord only knows how they got to this point. How you got to this point, with San crying in your lap.

It was 10:00 pm when someone started banging on your door. You were enjoying a cup of coffee but you almost had a heart attack at that moment. You opened the door with shaking hands, hoping that whatever killer was on the side wasn’t actually a killer. Instead, you saw your best friend, with swollen red eyes, sniffling.

“Oh my god, San! You scared— what’s wrong?” You immediately dragged him in, locking the door behind you. He sniffled again as he slumped into your couch. You took a seat next to him and took his hand in yours. “Was it another fight?” You knew it wasn’t. In all the fights you had heard, San never cried.

“She was cheating on me… this whole time.” He hiccuped as he talked.

“That bitch.” You said under your breath. You held onto his hand a little tighter, trying to contain your anger.

“I went to her house tonight because she wasn’t responding to me again. I wanted to talk it out with her but she opened her front door in her underwear with some motherfucker sitting on her couch!” Although you had many words to say with Areum, you were speechless in front of San. What were you supposed to say? All you could do was scoot back on the couch and guide San's head onto a pillow in your lap.

“It’s gonna be okay.” You ran your fingers through his hair, “You can cry for as long as you want.”

And cry he did.

____

The next morning was hard. You woke up on your couch sitting up-right with a terrible case of stiff-neck. That’s not the only reason it was hard. No, it was worse seeing San still laying on your lap. He was wide-awake, dark eye bags contrasting against his face. His eyes stared deep into the ceiling.

“What’re you thinking about, Sannie?” You started to run your fingers through his hair again and watched as his eyes fluttered shut, his body instantly relaxing.

His eyes opened again, “Why didn’t she love me?” You couldn’t respond, not that he let you. “I knew we weren’t perfect, knew she wasn’t perfect… but we always made it through the end of the day. I can’t believe she would do this to me.”

“It’s her loss.” You finally said. “You don’t need her anyway. It was her decision to cheat and you had nothing to do with it.”

San didn’t say anything after that, just continued to stare at your ceiling.

___

The first few weeks were the hardest for sure. San had spent most of them at your place, barely leaving even for band practice. When he did practice with the guys he would leave early, only strumming a few chords on his guitar before deciding that it reminded him too much of Areum.

“He’s been really out of it.” Yunho, the bassist commented one time. San hadn’t even played that day. He just sat in the corner for an hour. You stayed behind for a few minutes and told San to wait in the car. You wanted to catch up with the other band members.

“Can you blame him? That bitch was… well, a bitch.” Wooyoung shot back, setting his drum sticks down.

“How has he been holding up?” Hongjoong asked.

You scoffed, “Have you seen the man? I don’t even think San’s there anymore! God, if I see her, it’s on sight!”

You did your best to help him through those weeks. You had been through a few hard breakups in the past so you understood that the early stages were the worst. You even used up all of your sick time to stay home with him. You had never seen him this gloomy. At one point, he went through five pints of ice cream in three days.

____

It took three months for San to be even remotely okay. He started going to practice more and this time, he actually played. You couldn't say you were surprised. San loved playing with the band and you knew it was probably the only thing that would bring him out of his funk.

"You look good, man!" Hongjoong slapped his hand on San's back playfully and for the first time in months, San had his usual dimpled smile.

"I feel good." He replied, setting down his guitar and taking a seat next to you on the beat-up couch. "It's thanks to you, y/n"

Your eyes widened. "Me?"

He nodded. "You stayed up with me, didn't go to work, even made me breakfast when you knew I didn't have the energy to get off your couch."

You couldn't lie; your heart was racing. All you could do was stare back into his eyes with a goofy smile painted on your face. San put his hand on your thigh, skinship being normal between you two, especially within these past months.

Your friendship remained just that, a friendship, for the next month. You were okay with this, though. At least you had a small sliver of hope now that he was single. That tiny bit of hope that he'd love you back was able to tide you over.

Until one night.

San had come over for your weekly movie nights, an event you had been doing since high school but stopped doing because his ex got jealous easily. You tried calming your nerves as you sat next to each other, his arm wrapped around you.

You were so close you could smell his cologne. It was intoxicating. Maybe it was the fact that he was newly single now, filling up your thoughts even more recently, but his entire presence was overwhelming tonight.

“You alright, beautiful?” Since San was single now, his usual playful flirty side was coming out again. Just like everything else about him, you had a love-hate relationship with it. It doesn't mean anything. You had to remind yourself. He talked like this with everyone, especially when he wanted to get a rise out of his bandmates.

You gulped when you looked up at him. How could a man have this effect on you? You would think that after years of unrequited love, you'd be able to at least contain yourself. “Yeah.”

San gave you a dimpled smile, shifting his gaze to a piece of your hair, moving it behind your ear. Your mouth parts, probably to say something but you can't be too sure right now. If someone walked in, they would think you guys are about to kiss. Maybe you are... you want to kiss him.

With your heart pounding in your ears, you slowly lean forward, keeping your eyes on his lips. They look too good not to look at but you're also scared of seeing the look in his eyes, the potential disgust that might be taking over at the thought of your lips touching his.

Everything is moving in slow motion. From your hand caressing his cheek to the moment your lips make contact. He's stiff against you and you can only imagine that it's because he's uncomfortable. You start to pull away, dreading the awkward conversation you're about to have but San is quick. His hand grips your thigh and he's kissing you back with fervor.

Your head is spinning, Is this really happening? These sparks you're feeling all over your body, does he feel the same way? You push away any thoughts you're having, trying to focus on keeping up with San. You needed to enjoy this moment. Without realizing it, you swing your leg and straddle San's lap. He groans underneath you but before you can question it, he's giving you a reassuring squeeze on your waist.

You don't want to take the initiative of going further, but man, your hands are burning to touch his bare skin. Your hands, instead, rest on his shoulders, gripping and releasing every few seconds. As if he was reading your mind, San's hands move to the hem of your shirt and for the first time, you break the kiss.

The second your shirt passes your head, San's moving to kiss your neck, occasionally sucking to leave hickies that are sure to last a whole week. You're breathless, taking this as a sign to take off San's shirt. Your hands are all over each other, San's going from your cheek to unbuttoning your jeans, your fingers feeling his abs contract under your touch.

It feels like a flash. San suddenly laying you down on your bed, both of your clothes littered behind you on the floor, his lips still on your neck. It's only when he's about to insert himself does he stop and look at you with dark eyes. He doesn't give you enough time to question it, pushing himself inside you. You both gasp at the feeling.

"Fuck, you're so tight!" He grips your hip with one hand, the other holding the headboard like his life depends on it. He feels like he'll burst any second.

You're right there with him though, the mere feelings of this moment making you sensitive. "You're just big. Holy shit!"

It takes him a second, taking a moment to give both of you a moment to adjust before he moves inside you. You can't contain the sounds coming out of you as he hits all the right spots with ease. You couldn't have pegged San to have this big of a dick, yet here he was.

Before you can realize it, your hands are finding purchase on his back and your nails are sinking into his skin. He hisses above you but his thrusts get harsher and the moaning in your ear doesn't get any quieter.

"You feel so good... so warm and tight for me." He's practically whimpering into your neck. You try to keep your cool, trying not to cum so fast but he's hitting that spot inside you with ease.

Your nails dig into him deeper, "S-san," You stutter out. "Close... so close."

"I know... but you gotta wait for me. Can you do that?" His thrusts get faster and deeper, you don't even comprehend his words properly.

"Can you do that for me, pretty girl? Be a good girl for me?" He's using both hands to clench onto the headboard now, the force making it harder to not cum. You just nod and wrap your legs around his waist. San is drilling into you with so much force and he's hoping that the bed isn't going to break. After a few more thrusts, he starts to get sloppy, and your vision's crossing.

"Alright, beautiful. Cum for me." He grunts out, trying not to cum at the feeling of you clenching around him. You finally let the waves of pleasure course through you, seeing stars. If you were lucid, you most definitely would have been embarrassed by the noises coming out of your mouth and your pussy.

With a loud sigh, San pulls out of you and releases onto your stomach. Almost immediately, he’s up and cleaning you, you’re body’s too tired to do anything but lay there. You’re surprised, because instead of leaving, San lays next to you, even going as far as pulling you close to him.

You have so much on your mind but you're too tired now.

____

This goes on for weeks. Sometimes you would hang out. Sometimes do other things. Everything happened so fast. The friendship that you held so dear had become a muddled mess of lust and confusion. You obviously still had feelings for San but you had no idea where he stood.

You'd never even talked about the first time you guys had sex. When you woke up he was gone and when you saw each other again, he acted like nothing had happened. You didn't want to be that clingy girl who expected a relationship so you never brought it up. Now you're in this endless cycle of sleeping with each other and never addressing the elephant in the room.

What didn't help was how San was acting differently. He was much more touchy with you, always having to touch you in some way whenever you were together. His hand on your thigh, holding your hand, arm around your shoulder, he did it all. Before the incident, you would have considered him touchy but that's nothing compared to him now.

Your hangouts started to become more elaborate as well. You guys were actually going out to movies instead of watching Netflix at your house. Small coffee shop hangouts started becoming intimate dinners. It was like you guys were dating. These dates gave you hope that he would eventually open up and ask you out properly but you didn't want to force it out of him. So, you just decided to go with whatever he wanted.

"Let's go ice-skating." The handsome man suggested his left-hand steering and his right hand on your thigh.

"You know I can't ice-skate." You deadpan, getting distracted by your fingers playing with his.

He glances at you with a honey-sweet smile before bringing his eyes back to the road. "I can teach you, ya know."

"Please, you just want to see me fall so you can laugh at me."

"That too."

San taught you how to ice-skate for maybe ten minutes. After that, he decided that it would be best to let you learn through trial and error.

"San, I'm literally gonna fall on my face!" You cried, your legs shaking as you attempted to walk on the ice.

"You're doing great. Just try skating to me." He held out his hand for you. Every time you got even remotely close to him, however, he would slowly start backing up. You were struggling around the rink but he made sure to sprinkle in encouragements so you wouldn't be too mad at him.

Just when you thought you were doing good, you got too cocky and propelled yourself towards San, wanting so desperately to close that gap. Your feet weren't pointed straight enough causing your left skate to hit your right, tripping you onto the ice.

"Holy shit, y/n! Are you alright?" San appears in front of you with seconds. Helping you up with ease. Your knees ache and you could feel the bruise forming on your hip.

“Did you not see me eat shit?” You bark out, now gripping his arm for dead life.

“I did but it’s always polite to ask.” You slap his arm playfully as he guides you off the ice and onto the benches. “Are you actually okay?”

You shook your head and pouted like a child. San chuckled to himself, seeing right through you. Instead of saying anything, he pecked your lips innocently and took a seat next to you. It was the first time he’s kissed you in public which only confused you further. Is he doing this on purpose? You really had to ask him.

You’re too lost in your thoughts to see San staring at you. It’s not until he’s moving a piece of hair out of your face that you’re snapped out of your thoughts. You jolt slightly and hum at him in response. He just shakes his head and returns his gaze to the people skating.

It was your turn to stare at him, to memorize his features for the nth time. He’s just as beautiful as he was two seconds ago and the butterflies are still strong. You open your mouth to question him about your relationship, finally building up the courage just when…—

“San? Is that you?” You freeze. Her, you think. That manipulative bitch.

“Areum?” San stands as if he’s been caught doing something bad like a child. She offers him a warm smile, completely disregarding you as always. You feel like you did during the concert. His eyes are no longer on you… but trained on her. You feel that distance he created on the ice growing bigger and bigger.

“What’re you doing here?” The man asks, still shocked to see her.

“Ah, I was just walking around.” The nerve of this girl to act like she didn’t do anything wrong. “What’re you doing here?” Her eyes land on you but she quickly looks back at him.

You stand this time. “We’re…” Don’t say it. Don’t be petty. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. “On a date.” You entwine your arm with San’s.

Areum’s lip twitches in annoyance. “Oh?” She quirks a brow and glances at San. “Is this true?”

San freaks out without thinking and shakes his arm from yours. “No!— I mean like a friendly date, sure. We’re just hanging out like old times.”

There’s your answer.

His ex smiles with victory at your defeated state. “Well, we should catch up, San. I know we ended things on a bad note but I think we should talk.”

The car ride home was awfully silent. Usually, they were filled with laughter and off-key singing but tonight, you gave San short answers in his poor attempt to talk. When you entered your apartment, you told him you were going to bed early and that he should lock up when he leaves.

Instead, you feel his warm body climb into your bed and hold you at 12 am. As always, you didn’t tell him to leave. Because, as always, you couldn’t say no to Choi San.

____

You wake up and San's not next to you but there is a text.

San : Sorry I didn't want to wake you but I left to go to practice. It'll probably end late today so if you feel up to it, come hang out. :)

Should you? Maybe it's just better if you pretend like nothing happened. Obviously, that's what he's doing. Besides, it’s not like his bandmates gave you false hope just to reject you in front of their ex. You end up going to the practice, a huge lump in your throat. If you brought up the situation, you're sure that whatever you guys had would be over the second you said anything.

Jongho, the lead singer, greets you with a smile and a nod in your direction as he warms up.

"y/n!" Wooyoung calls out, getting off of his drum stool and engulfing you in a hug.

You giggle on command, loving his enthusiasm. “Wooyoung, why do you always act like we haven’t seen each other for years!”

He smiles and whispers, “Don’t tell the guys I told you, but you’re like… our muse!”

You roll your eyes and pull away from his chest just to look at him, “I think you’re the only one crazy enough to even consider that.”

Wooyoung lets you go completely and returns to his drum set, you follow suit. “Maybe but you’ve been our number one supporter since day one! Plus you’re beautiful and beauty inspires art, does it not?”

Laughter erupts from you again at his cheesiness and your feel an arm wrap around your shoulder. You didn’t have to look to know who it was, the signature cologne giving him away.

“What’s so funny?” San’s smiling but you can tell there’s something different in his tone.

“Just exposing how important y/n is to the band.” Wooyoung sends you a playful wink, your cheeks burning slightly. San forces a laugh, something you don’t notice, before sitting you down on the couch.

After practice was over, you waited outside of the room for San so you could go back to your place. That wasn't the original plan but San insisted. The chilly air made you wrap your arms around yourself, internally scolding yourself over not bringing a jacket.

Wooyoung was the first to come out, fishing his lighter out of his pocket. He wasn't the only cigarette smoker in the group but he was definitely the one that smoked the most. He grinned at the sight of you, resting his hand in his pocket instead.

"Why're you waiting out here? It's cold as hell."

"Yeah... But I didn't want to get in your guys' way." You rubbed your hands up and down your arms trying to create heat. Wooyoung took off his jacket and wrapped it around you without hesitation. "A true gentleman." You remarked.

He put his hand on his chest, his face contorting to look hurt. "I've always been a gentleman. Even when I'm freezing my ass off."

Your eyes widened, ready to give the jacket back. "Woah there, missy. I gave it to you for a reason. We don't want our muse to die of hypothermia." The joke makes you laugh lightly. "You waiting on San?"

You nod, staring at the ground and rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet. “It’s been a lot of waiting recently.” You accidentally confess.

“Uh oh.” He leans against the wall. "I noticed something was different."

"What do you mean?" You hear your heartbeat through your ears and you find it hard to breathe all of a sudden.

"You guys are a lot closer... You guys are best friends, sure, but the air's been different between you two. He still doesn't notice how you look at him."

You scoff, "That obvious, huh?"

"To everyone but him, it seems. Can I be honest?" Wooyoung rolls to face you. You nod, now looking at him. "Unless you tell him how you feel, you'll be doing nothing but waiting on him."

"But our friendship-"

"If you're about to tell me that it's enough for you, so help me God, y/n, I will kick your ass." You laugh for the first time since the conversation started. You understand what you have to do. You guys have already crossed so many boundaries and clearly, he feels something for you, right?

The door to the practice room swings open and this time it's Yeosang and San. San's bright smile seems to falter as his eyes instantly land on the jacket that's wrapped around you. His eyes shift between you and the drummer then he strides to you, grabbing your wrist.

"Let's go?" You don't have time to answer. San's practically ripping the jacket off of you and throwing it at Wooyoung who barely catches it. This time, you don't miss the change in his tone. He replaces Wooyoung's jacket with his hoodie, not saying a word as he puts it on you.

Just like the night before, the tension in the car is thick but unlike last night, it's you who's trying to spark a conversation. San's knuckles are turning white as he drives and it's starting to worry you. You've never seen San this upset before and you're still trying to place the reasoning. Was it jealousy?

You pull up to the house, expecting him to follow you like he always does but he doesn't. Instead, he leaves the engine running and his eyes on the street. For some reason, this sets you off. This man had the audacity to pull away from you, act like you were just a friend in front of the ex that cheated on him, but gets jealous over you casually talking to another guy?

You scoff and unbuckle your seatbelt, stepped out of the car, and slammed the door shut. San was feeling extra temperamental tonight. He couldn't understand why he felt like this either. Maybe he was looking for a fight. He turned off the engine and followed you inside. Before you could close and lock the door, he stepped into your house.

"What is your problem?" You asked venomously.

"What is your problem?"

"I didn't have any problem until you decided to get all confusing!" You dropped your tote bag on the floor, turning to face him fully.

"I'm confusing? Are kidding me?" He huffs out, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Actually, I'm not. You've been driving me nuts since we started hooking up. I'm over it!" His lip twitches into a sarcastic smile. "What the fuck was that with your ex? You completely pushed me aside. She treated you like shit, remember? She cheated, she lied, and she manipulated you. Do you want to get back to-"

"You're not my girlfriend, y/n!" He cut you off. "God, it's like you don't know your place." Tears pricked your eyes but you felt more angry than sad. Angry, you've never felt this way with San before. You're experiencing a lot of firsts tonight. San immediately realizes what he said, how hurt you were. He took a step closer to you but you put up your hands, putting up your boundaries for the first time.

"No, you're right. It's not like you hold my hand wherever we go or put your hands on my waist in public. You don't smile at me sweetly during dates. We're not completely vulnerable with each other, telling each other things we'd never breathe to others. It's not like we fuck almost every day! Do friends do what we do? Please, enlighten me. What's my place?"

"I'm sorry, y/n. I shouldn't have-" You're full-on bawling now, sucking in breaths where you can.

"I can't believe I've loved you for so long. I've torn my heart out for you and you just... you just throw it back at me like it's nothing!" His mouth opens but nothing comes out, instead he wraps his arms around you. You react once you feel him, trying to fight him off but he's stronger, trying to calm you down by hugging you.

You're screaming, all the feelings you've held inside bursting out of you, "Why can't you let me in?" You start to pound on your chest even though you know you shouldn't. You don't even notice that he's crying too. "Why can't it be me for once? Let it be me!"

"I'm sorry," He coos. You couldn't hold yourself up anymore, your feelings making it hard to focus. San catches you though, guiding you to sit on the floor.

San does his best to understand what you're saying through your sobs. He wants to understand what he's feeling. He thought he was doing this to get over Areum but why was he doing all the other things? He could've just stuck to the bare minimum but he didn't. Better question, how had he not noticed your feelings?

San was so caught in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed you had cried yourself to sleep. He was holding your head to his chest and he sighed, finally relaxing a bit. He couldn't really relax though, his mind still processing what you had said. He carried you bridal style to your room and thanking God that you had exhausted yourself.

San tucked you in and, after some hard debating, decided to lay in bed with you. He made sure that he wasn't touching you even though he knew he was going to leave before you woke up. He sighed to himself.

Even as you slept you were beautiful and he beat himself up for only now noticing how exhausted you looked. The man never understood why he was so willing and ready to sleep with you. He could acknowledge that there was steaming sexual tension but he never thought it would get this far. Nevertheless, you guys were in this situation; the very foggy area between friends and more.

Is this how you felt, absolutely terrified? You guys certainly couldn't go back to being friends after everything that's happened between you two. San's body started to shake as he silently cried. He couldn't even comprehend how much pain he's put you through these last few months.

____

You're not surprised to find your bed empty the next day; you wouldn't be surprised if San had sent you a message ending your friendship and promptly blocking you. You stare at your ceiling with tears already prickling your eyes. You weren't going to check your phone for texts. You just went to work.

The day went by fast, your boss giving you plenty of work to distract yourself. You were doing just fine until you pulled up to your apartment to find Wooyoung waiting to knock on your door.

"Wooyoung?" The man turned around, almost like a deer in headlights.

"Oh- Hey!" He quickly put his hands in his jean pockets. You walked to your door silently, unlocking the front door and inviting him in.

“What can I help you with?” You try to be casual even though all you’re thinking about is San and how you know Wooyoung’s here to soothe whatever problem you guys are having.

“I’m gonna cut to the chase. Talk to San. It’s only been a day of you two fighting and all of us are tired of him sulking.”

“What are you even talking about?”

“He came into practice looking all down and he didn’t talk to any of us. He just went through practice barely saying ten words throughout the whole thing.”

"How do you know this has something to do with me?"

“… Do I look blind to you? Everyone knows something’s going on between you two.” Wooyoung sighs and runs his hands through his hair. “Look, I don’t know what happened but I’m sure it was probably his fault. I’m not saying you should forgive him right away but just talk to him. Please?”

——

So now, here you are, outside his door. You took in a deep breath before knocking hard on his door. You couldn’t muster the courage to ask if he was home but there was no practice so you hoped for the best.

The door unlocked within a few minutes. “y/n?”

“H-Hi,” You stuttered out, feeling the weight on your shoulders get heavier. “Can I come in?”

San gestures you inside and you take a seat on his couch. There’s an awkward silence when he joins you and you can’t recall any other time it’s been like this. It was so easy to talk to San before but now you can’t even form a sentence.

“So—“

“What’d—“

You said at the same time.

“You first.” San breathed.

“I just figured we had a lot to talk about.”

"Right..." He brushed off his legs with a sigh.

"I like you, San- actually, I'm in love with you. I've been in love with you for so long and we slept together and it got messy. We've never talked about what we were after that night. You just made me a rebound and I turned the other way..."

His eyes burnt into your face and you were too scared to meet them. "I'm sorry. I never meant to put you in that kind of situation. I shouldn't have been so selfish. I didn't think about the way you were feeling."

San's warm hand grabs yours. "I'm so sorry that it's taken me so long to see how you feel about me. I'm so sorry I said that you didn't know where your place was. Your place..." He takes a big deep breath, making you look at him, "Your place is right next to me. I lost you for one day and in that one day, I've realized what you really mean to me. I'm in love with you, y/n."

He places his hand on your cheek, wiping away a tear you didn't even notice. You're falling apart at his touch but you were so happy that he felt the same way and- Oh my god! Choi San was in love with you!

"You just said you were in love with me." You breathed, a smile breaking out on your lips.

"I did, didn't I?" He chuckles, closing the distance between your faces. Your breath hitches. "Are you going to give me a chance to love you for real this time?"

Your heart is going to burst and you don't really give it much thought.

"Yes."

#ateez smut #ateez angst #choi san #san #san x reader #kim hoongjoong #jung wooyoung #park seonghwa #kang yeosang #jeong yunho #choi jongho #song mingi #mingi #jongho #wooyoung #yunho #yeosang #hoongjoong #seonghwa

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mrsalwayswrite · 3 years ago

Text

A Girl Has Needs (Ragnarssons x reader)

So I’ve been sick the past two weeks and when my muse decided to return, this is what she wanted me to write. Honestly, this is probably the silliest thing I’ve ever written, but it made me laugh, so....

This is kind of a sequel to Singing In The Shower but can also be read as a solo one-shot.

Also, the Ragnarssons are just the sons of Aslaug. No Bjorn.

Warnings: swearing, implied something at the end (i’ll let you decide), the brothers being ridiculous, Ivar and Sigurd constantly insulting one another, the brothers are flirts, reader is oblivious, a jerk somewhere in the middle

Words:4700

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius @evelynshelby @pomegranates-and-blood @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @geekandbooknerd @adrille88 @quantumlocked310 @breezykpop @ritual-unions-gotme @solinarimoon

"It's too hot out."

Hvitserk ran a hand over his braids. "Ivar, I swear if you complain one more time about the heat or the sun, we're leaving your ass home next time we come out."

"He could be a damn vampire for how often he never goes outside. Always playing video games or watching porn." Sigurd said, spinning the plastic spoon between his fingers like a drum stick.

"That's a fucking lie, you half-brained fuckwad." Ivar glared across the wooden picnic table.

You speak up before the two youngest Lothbroks could start clawing at each other's throats. "Ivar and I play board games sometimes or read together or watch movies….so not just video games." You choose not to reference the other activity Sigurd mentioned.

"See! At least someone likes me." Ivar laid his head on your shoulder, the tops of his braids tickling your neck.

Sigurd snorted and looked further down the boardwalk, watching the many people out in the summer sun.

"Alright, enough you two. We're supposed to be out having fun and enjoying summer." Ubbe said, always the peace-maker.

You finished off the last from your ice cream cup, licking the spoon clean. By this point you were used to the dynamics of the Lothbrok brothers, even if sometimes it gave you whiplash.

You had been roommates with Ubbe and Hvitserk for almost a year and a half now, something you had initially been hesitant for but now could not imagine life without these boys. Ivar was over more often than not, either crashing on the couch or in one of the various bedrooms. More than once, you had come home from work to find Ivar sleeping in your bed, hoarding all your pillows like some kind of territorial cat. Sigurd lived with some friends but had recently begun to drop by more often than just the usual Sunday brother time. Which you definitely appreciated because he was the only one who did not make fun of you for your arachnophobia. So whenever he would come over and there was an issue you needed to be saved from, he would just smile and grab a paper towel, becoming your white knight.

Ubbe was your late-night talking buddy, both of you venting about your days or whatever drama your families were trying to drag you into. Somehow over time, you both had created a routine that on Saturday mornings you would get up early together and clean your apartment, listening to music and getting things set up for the rest of the weekend so you could both relax. Hvitserk loved dragging you around town to do various fun things or try new restaurants. If you both were exhausted, he was also your junk food connoisseur and Food Network binging-buddy. If you both liked to quote Gordon Ramsay in terrible British accents to one another, no one needed to know. Besides your neighbors who called the cops one night when they heard Hvitserk yell at you that your squid was so raw he could hear it telling SpongeBob to go fuck itself. But that is beside the point.

When you moved in, you had just hoped to get along with the brothers. Now, the four brothers had become your best friends and you loved them all. Each one of them seemed to fill up a space in your heart that you had not known was empty until they entered your life. Over time, you had to strongly execute any kind of crush you had for them. They were your roommates and friends, it could never be more than that. Even if they were all so handsome but….you did mentally question their sanity sometimes.

"Hey, two o'clock." Hvitserk whispered from his spot on your right.

The four guys looked in the direction, past the boardwalk and along the narrow strip of beach. You peeked through the people walking by, then rolled your eyes at the woman Hvitserk was most likely referring to. A hum of appreciation left Ubbe and Sigurd let out a low whistle. The five of you were supposed to be out getting ice cream from a local favorite shop as a special treat for surviving the Lothbrok summer party that the boys dragged you too. To say the least exciting thing to happen was a screaming match between Aslaug and Ragnar, meanwhile Floki "accidently" set a religious painting on fire that Athelstan had given Ragnar….so yeah, the five of you deserved ice cream and plenty of beer when you got back to the apartment. Of course, this did not stop the boys from ogling.

"Right? Look at those legs." Hvitserk murmured.

"Eh. Y/n here could pull that bathing suit off way better." Ubbe said, turning back around and giving you a wink.

You flushed under his praise, but still wrinkled your rose at him, hoping to hide your reaction.

Hvitserk smirked, those green eyes twinkling mischievously from his spot on your right. "Yeah. I still liked that bathing suit from last month. The white one. Damn, your ass looked great."

"Oh my gods, stop." You shook your head at their teasing, your face heating up with embarrassment.

Ivar looked around you to his brother on your other side, gaze narrowed and blue eyes hard. "The fuck you talking about? Did you see her in that silky black dress at mother's party? Holy fuck, I thought--"

"And I'm out." You interrupted as you climbed out of your seat between Ivar and Hvitserk, gathering up their paper cups and spoons. "I'm going to throw away the trash."

"Y/n….did we embarrass you?" Hvitserk chuckled, reaching out to grab your wrist and most likely pull you back onto the bench seat.

You smacked his grabby hands away. "Nope. Just want to clean up our area. Common courtesy and all because we know you heathens won't."

Bless him, Ubbe was trying to hide his amusement by covering his mouth with his hand, but his grin was still evident and his blue eyes twinkled. "We'll stop….I promise, y/n."

"I won't." Ivar stated with a casual shrug. "I can't decide if I liked that black dress more or less than that sexy Black Widow costume you wore for Halloween."

"Oh damn, she did look sexy as hell in that costume! How did I forget that one?" Sigurd exclaimed.

"Okay, bye." You rushed away, feeling as if you were about to spontaneously combust into flames. From behind you came the sounds of the brothers' laughter and a few calls of your name but thankfully no one actually followed you.

At this point, you should be used to the brothers complimenting and teasing you. They had never felt the need to dilute their compliments before, a few times using far more candor than you ever wanted to know. It was sweet but at the same time made you feel self-conscious. All four of the brothers were gorgeous in their own ways and you had a front row seat to the many women that flocked around them, either due to their last name or their looks. Meanwhile you were just….you. Not ugly but not beautiful. Just you.

Over the past few months, you noticed how those compliments came your way more frequently- a quick comment on your hair or clothing, a dazzling statement about your smile or eyes. It was very sweet. You could not help but wonder if they made some kind of pact behind your back about boosting your self-esteem. Something that was not their job to do but gods, did you appreciate their efforts.

Something else you noticed over the past few months was how all the brothers had become more….tactile towards you.

Ever since the incident where you found them standing around the bathroom as you sang in the shower, and holy hell was that ever awkward and please don't ever let that happen again, and you confessed about how those in your life prior only tore you down. Something between the five of you had shifted. There was not a single moment you could look back on and point it out that it clicked but over time you just happened to notice. The brothers, especially Sigurd, made a point to turn up the music as often as possible and have you sing along. Sometimes on days you could tell Ivar's pain was bad, he would quietly ask you to play with his hair and sing to him. So, you would.

More than that, it was the more frequent and lingering hugs, the quick touches on your arms, hips or shoulders as they passed you, how one of them would drag you against them to cuddle whenever something was on the TV. None of it ever made you feel uncomfortable. On the contrary, you had to decapitate a few butterflies that dared to fly around in your belly. You just figured that you had reached a new level of friendship with the brothers, because honestly who else did they have to be as touchy-feely towards? None of them had girlfriends at the moment….or for the past couple of months....but that was none of your business. You were just happy to have them in your life. Even if they embarrassed you often.

Moving around a couple pushing an expensive-looking stroller, you tossed the trash away in the garbage bin. Absent-mindedly, you wiped your hands on your shorts, then stopped and glanced down to make sure you had not just stained them. Breathing out a sigh of relief, because chocolate stain crisis averted, you started back towards the table where the brothers seemed to be arguing over something already, when a voice from nearby stopped you.

"Hey, pretty lady."

You stumble, barely catching yourself as you turn around. Surprise flooded you when you see the attractive, shirtless man actually staring at you with a smile on his face. Wow, someone spent way too long shaping that jawline when they were creating him. This seemed like something from a fantasy more than real life. You were almost tempted to pinch yourself to make sure you were awake. "Um, I'm sorry, were you talking to me?"

"Yeah. You here alone?"

"Um, no…." You gestured vaguely in the direction of the Lothbrok brothers, watching as his gaze shifted to the brothers and assessed them before returning back to you.

Crossing his arms over his chest and making his muscles bulge….which is only slightly distracting….he smirked. "I see. But you clearly ain't with any of them."

"What's that mean?" You tilted your head to the side, confused. You arrived with them, did he not think you were friends with the guys?

"I've seen you sitting with them, but you don't act like any of them are your boyfriend. 'Sides, look at you." He eyed you up and down. "I mean you don't seem…."

Huh?

Ohhhhh….

You straightened, placing your hands on your hips. "What are you trying to say?"

"No offense but they seem outta your league, y'know?"

And if that did not feel like a bucket of ice water thrown on you. Whatever prior thoughts you had about the still attractive guy flew out the window. "Oh, really?"

"Yeah, girl. I mean, you're pretty but you don't seem their type. It looks like you're clearly friends though."

Was the guy really this dumb? At first you thought he was hitting on you but it seemed to be coming out more as an insult....and he was just standing there smiling at you like you should be thanking him or something for his attention!

"Wow." You shook your head, done with this conversation and done with him but you wanted to wipe that smirk off his face before you left. Petty, maybe?

"Well, you are right in a sense. I don't act like boyfriend and girlfriend with any of them because technically they aren't."

He grinned smugly like he was about to win some kind of prize.

"They are my harem."

His eyes widened to comical proportions and his mouth dropped open as he gaped at you unbelieving.

You wiped your hands off on your shorts again as you continued talking. "So yeah, it would be weird to act like only boyfriend and girlfriend with one of them when they are all my boyfriends. Would be really rude, don't you think?"

"Ummm, well…." His gaze darted towards the brothers then back to you.

"Let me tell you, it's not always easy trying to juggle that many boyfriends. But this girl has needs and let me tell you, those men know how to keep this girl very satisfied. Uh huh. All. Night. Long. And then also in the morning if we're feeling like having some extra fun. I do feel bad when I wear them out though."

Suddenly, you felt someone come up beside you.

"You alright, y/n?" Ubbe asked, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

"Yeah, baby. Just having a little chat. Let's head back." You smiled up at Ubbe before looking back to the befuddled man in front of you. "And let me tell you one last thing….I might not be in their league like you said, but I know how to keep my men coming back for more." You slipped your arm around Ubbe's waist and started walking back to the picnic table.

The closer you got, the more your face felt like it was on fire. You could feel Ubbe stealing glances at you but you ignored it, too mortified by what had just come out of your mouth. How could you have said all of that? What had come over you? Yeah, that guy was a Class-A jerk but it did not warrant you claiming to have a freaking harem with your guy friends/roommates! Why had the universe not promptly shut you up? And to think Ubbe heard the end of your passionate monologue. Gods, you doubted you would be able to look him in the eye for at least a week!

You dropped onto your spot between Hvitserk and Ivar, covering your face with your hands. The weight of four pairs of eyes on you made you want to crawl under the table and hide from them. Not that it would work. One of them would just drag you out from underneath or Ivar would keep lovingly tapping you with his crutch until you appeared.

"She okay?" Sigurd asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

"Y/n?" Ubbe tried to encourage you.

You just shook your head, delayed mortification making you tongue-tied. How could you have called them your harem - YOUR HAREM - like you were some wealthy princess or something. Was that even a thing? Either way, you were ready for the universe to strike you with lighting now. Or swallow you whole.

"What the fuck happened?" Ivar snarled from your left, but you instinctively knew his anger was not directed at you.

Ubbe sighed, probably rubbing a hand down his face. "I don't know. I'm not sure if that guy was insulting her or hitting on her; but after I walked up, she said something about not being in their league but knowing how to keep her men coming back for more. Oh, and she also called me 'baby'."

Yep. The ground could swallow you whole at any moment now. Any moment….just waiting...

"Hold on." Hvitserk said, shifting to fully look at you, tugging gently on one of your hands covering your face. "Why do you get to call Ubbe 'baby'? If he gets a pet name, I want one too!"

Sigurd helpfully pointed out. "She already calls you 'Serk'."

"That's not a pet name." Hvitserk pouted, pressed his forehead to your shoulder like a toddler denied a candy.

"Well if those idiots get a name, I'm definitely getting one." Ivar stated, laying a hand on your lower back, his thumb rubbing soothing circles.

"You have one. It's 'asshole'." Sigurd sneered.

You could feel Ivar shrug. "Yeah, but at least I'm an asshole with class. You're about as interesting as paint drying."

"Hey! You god‐-" Sigurd started up.

Ubbe interrupted. "All of you, shut up." He sighed loudly, probably glaring at Sigurd and Ivar with one of his perfected I-don't-have-time-for-this-shit looks, before reaching across the table and tugging on one of your hands still covering your face. "Hey, wanna explain what was going on with that guy?"

"Do we need to rough him up?" Hvitserk asked.

"Rough him up? What are we, twelve?" Ivar rolled his eyes, shifting his hand to lay on your thigh. "Let's just stab him."

"Mom said no stabbings, asshat." Sigurd stated, blandly.

"She also said no playing music at 2am but we know how well you listened to that, dumb bitch." Ivar sneered back.

"Both of you! Shut. Up. Dammit." Ubbe squeezed your hand that he had managed to coax away from your face. "Y/n, please?"

You slightly shook your head, a small smile on your lips from listening to the brothers bicker. Ubbe squeezed your hand again, almost in a silent pleading. Finally, you murmured, "It's not a big deal. It's really stupid."

"Doesn't matter, you're our girl." Ubbe said with a finality that reverberated in your bones.

You lowered your other hand, smiling at the four faces looking at you. They were truly your best friends, even if that line did seem to blur lately with how tactile they had become. Not that you truly minded but still. Even now, Ubbe was holding your hand from across the table, Ivar had his hand on your thigh and Hvitserk still had his head on your shoulder. Next to Ubbe, Sigurd was watching you with such fondness and concern it made your stomach clench. What made you so lucky for these sweet, handsome brothers to be concerned about your well-being?

You squeezed Ubbe's hand back as you looked around the table at them. "You have to promise you won't get mad at me." You nudged Hvitserk off of you so you could look at his face too.

"Of course, sweet cheeks. Whatever you need." Sigurd smiled at you.

Once all the brothers gave their agreement, you hesitantly began speaking. "Okay, so I was heading back here when that guy stopped me. I think he was trying to hit on me."

"Why do you think?" Hvitserk questioned. "It's usually pretty obvious when a guy is hitting on a girl."

"No, that's just you." Ubbe teased. "You have no shame."

"What? I see what I want and go after it."

"Focus, idiots." Ivar flatly stated, this thumb rubbing a line on the outside of your thigh.

"Um," you tried to start up again but the butterflies in your stomach had turned into pterodactyls and you worried they would somehow escape and gods then you would be on some freaky TV show and no one would ever talk to you. "So….it….it's stupid and doesn't matter. I'm over it. Can we just forget it?"

"Y/n, love, what happened?" Ubbe encouraged, his patient blue eyes like a warm balm to your frazzled nerves.

You bit your lip, wondering if you could shove the topic away. Looking at the gazes of the brothers, you know they were not going to let this go, no matter how much you wanted them too. You took a deep breath then spilled out the story, your words almost stumbling into the next in your haste to hurry the hell up. "He said….he asked if I was here alone and I said I was with you guys. But then I think he was asking if I was single because he said clearly I wasn't with any of you guys because it was obvious you're all out of my league…."

"He said that?" Ivar started to push himself up, grabbing his crutch that had been leaning against the table. "Where the fuck is he? I'm going to ram my fist so far down his throat he won't be able to…."

You reached your other hand over and grabbed Ivar's hand, stilling his rage-fueled movements. "No, it's fine. Really. I sorta….um, got him back."

"What did you say?" Ivar raised an eyebrow as he settled back next to you.

"Um….well…." Cue the delayed embarrassment and wishing this never happened.

Hvitserk chuckled with a wicked smirk on his face. "Oh, this is going to be good if you are already stuttering and can't look us in the eye."

"Shut up." You groaned, but unable to pull away, effectively trapped by the brothers. Ivar was holding your left hand between his; Ubbe held your right hand, your fingers intertwined now; Hvitserk leaned against the table to be able to see your face, with his hand loosely on your right hip; Sigurd's foot nudged yours encouragingly. You knew without them verbally saying so, that you had their full support, no matter what you said or ever needed, they had your back. "Ugh. Fine, okay. I, um, I told him that you guys were my harem and I was dating all of you." You rushed out, your gaze immediately dropping to the wood table, unable to convince yourself to see their expressions after.

For a second there was silence before the guys erupted in cheers and laughter.

"Hell yeah, that's our girl!"

"Harem. Ha! You're more woman than that bastard could handle."

Ubbe slyly looked at you, tugging on your hand until you met his gaze. "And you keep your men coming back for more?"

"Um, right. I may have….mentioned….that I have needs and you guys, um, make sure I am very satisfied….and I know how to keep you guys coming back for more….yep. That's it. Oh gods, I'm going to go die now."

Hvitserk's arm wrapped around your waist, keeping you pinned before you could even try and slip away like you wanted to, thank you very much. "Oh, I like this feisty side of you. Why haven't we seen her before?"

"She gets me into trouble." You mumbled, as they laughed at your response.

"She sounds like fun. I'd date her in a heartbeat." Sigurd wiggled his eyebrows.

"What's wrong with you?" Ivar demanded. "I'd date y/n, feisty side or not. She's perfect." He loudly smacked a kiss to your temple.

"Guys…." You groaned, becoming slightly overwhelmed with the attention. The pterodactyls in your stomach were now dancing to a new tune and not just of embarrassment.

"I have to agree with my brothers, this is a new side of you but we like her." Ubbe winked at you, making your breath hitch for a moment. "Tell her she's allowed to visit whenever but we still like y/n either way."

Hvitserk nuzzled your neck, making you squirm and your heart to race. "I bet that guy is jealous now."

Throwing his head back, Ivar shouted. "Fuck him!"

Sigurd took up the chant. "Yeah, fuck him! She's our woman!"

"WOULD YOU SHUT UP! THERE ARE CHILDREN AROUND FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!" An elderly man nearby yelled at your group.

It was only now that you noticed all the blatant stares the five of you were receiving from those sitting at tables nearby or walking past on the boardwalk.

"Oh, I am terribly sorry, sir. You are correct. We were just getting ready to leave." Ubbe placated, a grin still on his face. "Let's head back home."

The five of you scrambled off the picnic table, laughter still surrounding you like a bubble of warmth that could rival the sun. Heading back to the shared apartment, you found yourself walking between Ubbe and Ivar. Sigurd and Hvitserk walked in front or turned around and walked backwards to make eye contact with you, a few winks thrown your way, making your face heat up again.

"You know," Ivar began, "as the youngest, I feel I should have special privileges. Like, I get to have her on the first day or I get to sleep in her bed whenever I want."

"No, that certainly sounds like privileges due to the eldest. Which would be me." Ubbe corrected, slipping his hand into yours.

You startled at the contact but did not pull away. When Ivar's hand snagged yours, you almost jumped. Your gaze darted from Ivar to Ubbe but both continued walking like nothing had occurred, forcing you to keep moving. It was just an inkling but you wondered if something had changed. Before you could ask, the brothers kept talking, continuing a conversation that left you baffled.

Hvitserk turned around to walk backwards, giving you a flirty wink. "You two can share her bed but we all know she would want to sleep with me more since I'm the most handsome."

"I make her laugh more!" Sigurd argued, trying to punch Hvitserk in the shoulder but the other brother darted away laughing.

"A puppy makes her laugh more than you, dipshit." Ivar retorted, sticking his crutch out as Hvitserk moved, causing him to almost trip and fall on his face.

"What the hell?" Hvitserk demanded, a goofy grin still on his face.

Ivar rolled his eyes, giving your hand a squeeze. "Even sober, Hvitserk can't walk in a straight fucking line."

You could not help but giggle at the affronted look on Hvitserk's face.

"Hmmm….we'll have to figure out some kind of rotating schedule so her time is spent equally with all of us." Ubbe said in all seriousness, continuing the conversation.

"Wait….what? WHAT?" You stopped in your tracks. Your mind whirled as you tried to make sense of what Ubbe was implying. The conversation you had been listening to but not understanding, the pieces seemed to suddenly click into place. Your gaze flittered like a hummingbird from one brother to another. "I thought….I mean, it was…."

Hvitserk slipped between you and Ivar, snaking his arm through yours and guiding you to move again. "Nope, we're your harem now and you're our woman."

"How about boss bitch? She's our boss bitch?" Ivar asked from just behind you.

Ubbe resumed his spot on your other side, shoving Sigurd away when he stopped in front of him. "That could be rude."

"How about our angel?" Sigurd offered.

"Why do you even keep fucking talking? All your ideas are shit." Ivar grumbled loudly. When a woman walking by gasped loudly, Ivar turned to glare at her. "Fucking what? I wasn't fucking talking to you!"

"Oh no." You murmured, sharing an exasperated look with Ubbe. You peeked over your shoulder at Ivar. "Come on, honey. It's not worth it."

He huffed but started walking again. "Fuck yeah, I got a pet name, bitches."

"I still need one…" Hvitserk whined from beside you.

Sigurd turned around. "Me too! It better not be 'sweetie' or something."

You threw your hands up. "I'll think of something! Dammit! I wasn't prepared for this!"

Sigurd nodded, still walking backwards. "We still need a name for y/n."

"How about our darling? Y/n is our darling?" Ubbe shrugged.

"I still like boss bitch." Ivar grumbled.

"Oh my gods, what is my life right now?" You laughed, shaking your head.

"Just wait until we get home….I promise your life won't ever be the same." Hvitserk kissed your cheek, making your face heat up.

A smack on your ass had you whipping around to stare at Ivar in shock.

"Yeah, that's my ass right there. Can't wait to finally touch it." Ivar muttered. His roguish smile grew wider when he saw you gulp.

"Ah….what?" You turned to look up at Ubbe as he stole your hand once again, pressing a quick kiss to your knuckles before entwining your fingers.

"We have a promise to live up to and we have to make sure our girl is very satisfied." He purred out the last two words, sending a shiver down your spine.

"What's that mean?" You glanced around at the brothers but they just chuckled, dragging you in the direction of your shared apartment as quickly as they could without leaving Ivar behind. "Guys….guys?"

"You're ours now." Hvitserk whispered into your ear. "And we're yours."

Your stomach flipped at his sultry tone and his words. But it was the hungry looks from the brothers that made your womb clench and your hands tighten in Ubbe and Hvitserk's grasps.

There was one thing you were positive on….that after today, nothing would ever be the same.

And your heart raced in anticipation.

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2-cute-4-school · 4 years ago

Text

𝘕𝘊𝘛 𝘋𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘭𝘢𝘱 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺'𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘰 𝘨𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴

Mark Lee

so we all know mark is a quite expressive person with his emotions

and come on when playing video games we all rage and throw fits so emotions are running especially high ‎(ﾉಥ益ಥ）ﾉ ┻━┻

what i’m trying to say is that mark is yelling, banging fists against his desk, laughing his ass off and pissing you off

i mean mark’s laugh is very cute and ENTIRE BLESSING TO HEAR but ♡ sleep ♡ is also precious

but mark can’t hear your exaggerated sighs nor see your ever-lasting pout

so you lift your tired self from the bed and plop down on his lap

mark : “hUH??¿¿ B-BABE?!¿¿” （＊〇□〇）……！

haechan, audible through the headphones: mark, not in front of the boys, you wild beast (๑⁍᷄౪⁍᷅๑)

mark opens his mouth to shout in protest but you bury your head in his shoulder and let out a soft whine and mark.just.COMBUSTS!!!

he grumbles something about how haechan is due for a good beating and nuzzles the side of his face against the top of your head ♡(.◜ω◝.)♡

whenever he has a break and doesn’t need both hands to play, he brings one arm around you, cuddling you closer to himself and running his hand along the length of your spine

or just LAYS HIS HAND ON YOUR THIGH askfafwsr- ya know (˵ ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°˵)

doesn’t have the heart to break the atmsophere even after he shuts down his computer and just cocoons you in his warm arms and hums a song softly as you doze off intertwined together UwU

Huang Renjun

you’re just trying to be cute and create a romantic enviroment as you cuddle up to your boyfriend who is immersed in his game

“y/n?” his voice is soft, almost a hush and it could almost lull you to sleep

“yeah?” ෆ╹ .̮ ╹ෆ

“i can’t see because of your head”

FIRST HIT HOME but you didn’t give up of course, just flattened your cheek against his shoulder to accomodate his complaint

just as you settle downs drowsily, glued to his frint, he covers his mic to grumble to you again ಠ╭╮ಠ

“it’s getting hot”

SECOND HIT HOME and you’re starting to get discouraged as you scoot a little further away from his body and loosen the grip of your hands around his neck (๑′°︿°๑)

but of course ever grumpy renjun still had complaints karen who

“my legs are falling asleep”

*SIGH* “eye roll* *definetely not pouting* you start pulling yourself away from him and trudge defeatedly and bury yourself under a ton of blankets

but he just chickles, has the AUDACITY to chuckle, and brings you back on his lap, squeezing the life out of you (≧д≦ヾ)

“i was just kidding babe don’t leave me!!” says renjun as he sways you kinda violently may i add from side to side and rubs his cheek against yours cuz he’s a kitty and adorable confirmed ε=(｡♡ˇд ˇ♡｡）

rough love you have other there as you can see

Lee Jeno

jeno is GENTLE GIANT （ﾉ｡≧◇≦）ﾉ

gentle loving giant in this case actually so even better

so we all know how the dreamies exposed this boy TWICE for playing video games 25/8 and he got scolded by his mum lol so i’m thinking

you’re trying to get him to go to sleep or at least rest his eyes he’s already blind enough i WONDER WHY damn

all this started when you settled in front of his computer to block his view

and as he argued with you he decided enough is enough and pulled you into his lap, traping you against his chest (╬ Ò ‸ Ó)

“jeno it’s 3 am!!” :<

“ just one more round baby” of video games ya nasties...no? only me?ok

he tries to give you a *smooch* but you move your face away and refuse to turn around and let him kiss you

and that’s where jeno draws the line (; ･`д･´)

kithes are something that can’t berefused between you two, an unspoken rule you apparenly weren’t aware of

so with a ‘eep!!!’ from you, he simly stands up from his seat with you latched onto him like a koala like (＾ω＾ ≡ °д°)

“jeno put me down!!!11!!1! NOW!!”

“kiss first” (.◜ ᵕ ◝.)

“are you nuts??!!!?” *exaggerated smooch* “now put me down!!”

needless to say he’s not letting go anytime soon, he just plops into bed and you cuddle until you fall asleep you’ve been scammed

Lee Donghyuck

haechan is a very VERY petty brat person ಠ_ಠ

so guess what... fights with him are a national competition of petty acts

and you know what his ultimate move in your most recent fight is? *drum rolls* turning off the central heating really original hyuck i applaud you

and this kid knows exactly what he’s doing when he sits down in his gaming chair with a shit-eating grin (ง ͠ ͠° ل͜ °)

he hears you stumble around the house in your dora the explorer exploration in the search of a blanket

but guess what? they’re all under his flat cake ( ✧≖ ͜ʖ≖)

so when you bardge in the room and find him hogging all the warmth you hope to intimidate him with your ✨ highly horrific glare ✨

but he pretends to be too busy to notice you so you just defeatedly settle on his lap and under the blankets

“well well well look who’s crawling back with their tail between their legs”

“i might just cut off your front microscopic tail” (눈_눈)

but i just know he’s gonna cuddle you until you sweat your ass off under that mountain of blankets

and even when he can’t hold you, he’ll press his lips against your forehead, lingering there as his warm breath fanned across your skin

he also made a deal with you to which you didn’t necessarily agree with but that’s a minor detail am i rite

if he wins the round he gets a kiss as a reward (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧

if he loses, he gets 2 kisses as a consolation (ฅ⁍̴̀◊⁍̴́)و ̑̑

you’re getting suspicious of his 4 consecutive losses

Na Jaemin

he’s a fluff ball we all know it, we all love it

he’d DIG THAT KIND OF SHIT ٩̋(ˊ•͈ ꇴ •͈ˋ)و

and he babies you to the end of earth

99.8% chance that he’s gonna stop playing just to cradle you against his chest properly because YOU’RE. HIS. BABY!!! periodt.

cue yelling from his teammates for abadoning them in the middle of the game but that’s inevitable

“na jaemin you SIMP!!!!”

but jaemin is too busy making puppy eyes at you (●♡∀♡))ヾ☆*。

he’d kiss you everywhere he could reach and then scoop your hands in his and bring them to his lips for another shower of kithes (*'､^*)chu

and if you kiss him back??

this man will literally COMUST with uwus istg

like just imagine you brush your lips against his neck and then you gently nuzzle against him??

jaemin would melt in your embrace ♡(｡- ω -)

even if he did eventually go back to playing, he’d press kises anywhere in reach periodically cuz he’s soft like that

would also LOVE feeling your breath fan his neck he gets a unique feeling of comfort knowing that he has you so close to him (๑˃ᴗ˂)

“even if you were the impostor i’d still vote myself out for you”

the romanticism of this decade

Zhong Chenle

this boi is ruthless when playing video games

god frobid you’re in his way cuz you’re getting SQUASHED (｢⊙Д⊙)｢

he obvioulsy LOVES winning

but ya know what he loves more than winning???

𝓨𝓞𝓤 ♡(㋭ ਊ ㋲)♡

so chenle is all (｡+･`ω･´)

“you waste of space move along!!!!” “shoot that gun straight dammit or i’ll shove it up yo- oh hey baby°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°“

the moment you plop down on his lap and curl yourself up with your head tucked under his chin, his blazing eyes soften so cutely

and so raging kid chenle turns into best babyboi chenle (*•̀ᴗ•́*)و ̑̑

he M E L T S like he just leans into your touch and continues gaming A LOT more silently and just smiles absent-mindedly the entire time

“yo chenle you dead????” most likely jisung on the other side of the headphones

“no?” ｢(ﾟ<ﾟ)ﾞ??

“... guys he’s plotting something, reatreat!! i repeat, RETREAT!!!”

“what?? no, what do you mean by that !??!!!”

you stir as his voice rises in volume and chenle immediately settles down again and shushes you while patting your heah and threading his fingers through your hair carefully (*-ω-)

goes straight for jisung after that teammate or not rip jisung you’ll be missed but also bad choice to annoy a soft-for-only-my-baby chenle

Park Jisung

a bit flustered but just couldn’t refuse you when you cutely asked him with wide puppy eyes if you could sit in his lap to watch him play

probably short circuited for a good 2 minutes before he could produce and intelligible answer (ง ´͈౪`͈)ว

and that’s how you found yourself perched on his lap, facing the screen with curious eyes as jisung struggled as if his LIFE depended on it

“how do you jump?” (,Ծ_Ծ,)

“you can’t jump”

“what do you mean you can’t jump?? gravity doesn’t work like that” Σ(･ิ¬･ิ)

you’re like 2 newborn babies running wild and unsupervised

“jisung, that character looks like you when you’re constipated” (๑꒪▿꒪)*

cue cackling from the devil spawns on the other side

he’s gonna keep in mind this betrayal UNTIL THE END OF TIME beware

if you catch sight of one of his hands not working away i bet my allowance you’ll have this uncontrollable urge to hold it in yours DO IT I NEED MY ALLOWANCE DON’T BE SHY

of course he’ll automatically intertwine your fingers together and bring them up for a chaste kiss ～(^з^)-♡

and i know for sure that he won’t have the heart to let go of it even when he needs it to play sigh jisung you SIMP

he’s gonna get scolded and teased by the other later but ya know

at least he ain’t no touch starved coward ¯\(°_o)/¯

he gets grounded for that by jaemin

3K notes · View notes

outercrasis · 4 years ago

Text

Maybe It’s A Sign

Pairing: Modern!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 9.3k+

Warnings: alcohol, implied age difference, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, p-in-v sex, unprotected sex, cockwarming

Summary: You and Mando have been driving across America together for months. You're happy to be with him but part of you longs for something more.

A/N: I don’t really know the time period for this, probably like anything pre-2010s. There’s no use of y/n and let me know if I missed a warning :)

Read it on AO3

The breeze from the open truck window is cool against your heated skin. It's your only relief as the sun beats down on you through the windshield, the busted A/C offering no help. You're headed down some freeway in the middle of nowhere America, riding shotgun in an old beat-up truck that's seen better days.

You've been keeping your eyes on the flat landscape surrounding you, watching as field after field passes you by. They really weren't joking when they'd named them the Great Plains. Music filters through the air, some classic rock song you've heard a thousand times before. You still hum along mindlessly, enjoying the small amount of entertainment.

Bored of the vast sameness outside your window, your eyes drift over to your companion, driver, and owner of the truck. Mando. You study him, finding him far more interesting than the fields outside.

His worn baseball cap has been pushed up, presumably from scratching his scalp underneath and not bothering to fix it. Soft brown curls peek out around the edges of the hat. He has his sunglasses on and his eyes are firmly fixed on the road ahead, as they should be. The patchy scruff along his jawline has grown out a bit from your recent days on the road and you can see a few gray hairs mixed in with his darker natural color.

He shrugged off his jacket earlier in the day, leaving him in a worn gray t-shirt that hugged his lean muscles all just right. His faded blue jeans are on and you wonder how he can stand to wear them in the oppressive summer heat. You gave into shorts days ago.

All in all, he was a far better sight than anything outside the truck. As you look him over, you muse how everything he owns seems to be worn in. His rusty truck, his old hat, his distressed clothes. They all carry a sense of being lived in, nothing new and shiny on him. Well, except for his jewelry. His silver necklace and rings always shine brightly, a dramatic contrast to the rest of him.

"Stop staring," Mando suddenly says, breaking you from your observation of him. You're a little embarrassed to have been caught, but you aren't going to let him know that.

"Why? Nothin' else to look at around here."

That rewards you with a chuckle. At least he isn't irritated by your staring then.

"Don't you have a book or something?"

You look over at the book you had thrown on the dashboard. A used copy of Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger that you picked up a couple states back. You aren't sure you like Holden, but it's a good read at least. "Yeah, but I can't read it for long before I start feeling sick. So I guess I'll just have to look at you instead."

"Sure that I won't make you sick?" Mando teases.

You smile. He's in a good mood today. There are days where conversation with him is like pulling teeth, but it makes days like today all the more worth it.

"Nah, you aren't so hard on the eyes." You say it cool and casual, genuine but not needy. As though you don't often think of his looks when you have the time and privacy to satisfy your needs.

Mando shakes his head slightly but you can see the ghost of a smile on his lips. "Sure, sweetheart."

He never seems to believe you when you compliment his appearance. It breaks your heart a little. Sure, he has some years on you, but you aren't blind. You know a good-looking man when you see one and Mando? He was it. If the man wasn't oblivious, he'd notice the looks plenty of women and some men throw him when he strolls into town.

Not sure of what to say next, but not wanting the conversation to end, you take to a habit that's been slowly forming over your months with him. It had begun out of boredom one day, but continued due to a desperate urge to learn anything and everything your mysterious companion will tell you about himself.

"When's your birthday?"

Mando isn't surprised anymore by your random questions. "May eighteenth."

Your eyes go wide at his answer. It was July now, meaning he'd let the day come and go without telling you. You had just assumed his birthday hadn't come around with you yet. "Mando! Why didn't you tell me? I would have at least said something if I had known."

He shrugs. "Birthdays aren't a big deal where I grew up."

"Were you raised Jehovah's Witness or something?" you ask.

"No, nothing like that." His fingers drum slightly on the steering wheel. You noticed a while ago that he did that when you got close to something he didn't want to talk about. His childhood always seems to be a touchy subject.

You want to know more, want to learn all of his secrets, but you don't want to jeopardize his good mood. Mando had shared bits and pieces of those more intimate details with you over your shared months with him, but always on his own time. His own terms. You won't push it now. Instead, you pivot to something more innocuous.

"If you could only eat one meal for the rest of your life, what would it be?"

You're surprised when he barely takes any time to consider the question before answering. "Tacos."

You raise an eyebrow. "Tacos? I took you for more of a burger and fries kind of guy."

"Nothing compares to a good authentic taco from down by the border." He says it with such confidence that you can do nothing other than believe him.

"I wouldn't know," you say.

Mando cocks an eyebrow at you now. "We'll have to fix that then."

A warm flush runs through your body at his words. You know he isn't looking to get rid of you, but hearing him make plans for the future with you, no matter how tentative, makes you happier than you care to admit. Small promises that you know he'll make good on eventually given the time and opportunity.

"What about you?" he asks.

"Easy. A full breakfast. Eggs, bacon, potatoes, and toast. Doesn't matter how they're cooked or the specific options, you can't go wrong."

You stretch yourself out in the cab as you answer, throwing your feet up on the dash. Your eyes close for a moment and you miss the way Mando's eyes rake over your extended frame.

"You're never awake for breakfast," Mando comments. He's right. You enjoy your sleep and when left to your own devices you easily dream through breakfast hours.

"That doesn't matter," you retort. "Breakfast food isn't only good in the morning."

You continue that way for a while, gathering small bits of information about him and sharing your own in return. You learn that he prefers hot weather over the cold, soft pillows over firm ones, showers over baths, and most surprisingly that he has a soft spot for musicals. That fact had made you giggle, imagining Mando singing along to The Music of the Night. With all of his mystery, he wouldn't make for a bad Phantom you think.

As the afternoon wears on, you can feel yourself growing tired. Between the warmth of the sun, the lulling rumble of the truck, and the comfortable environment of the cab, you're fighting to keep your eyes open. Mando notices your struggle and reaches a hand out towards you.

You aren't really sure when this began, but you aren't complaining about it. Mando would hold your hand whenever you fell asleep in the truck, thumb gently rubbing against your skin. His hands were rough, callused from years of work, but they felt nice. They felt strong, comforting. In those moments nothing else in the world mattered. And if you thought about his hands later, touching places other than your hands, then that was your business and no one else’s.

You wake up a couple hours later, Mando calling your name to pull you from your sleep. The sun has moved down in the sky and you guess it’s somewhere close to five o’clock. You’d check the time on the radio, but Mando never seemed to bother keeping it right due to regularly changing time zones with all the cross country traveling.

You’re sitting outside of some 24 hour diner on a random roadside. Mando seems to be fond of these little dives, preferring them to any of the big chain restaurants you always pass. Fast food is the only exception to that rule and even that’s rare, these food stops often being one of few chances to stretch your legs when you’re on the road.

“What do you think? Do they have the best pie in America?” you joke, pointing at the sun-worn sign hanging below the restaurant’s name. You can’t count how many ‘best blank in America’ signs you’ve seen at this point. While you can’t credit their authenticity, it usually did mean there was something good waiting for you on the menu.

“I suppose we’ll have to be the judges of that,” Mando replies.

You tug on your socks and shoes that you pulled off earlier in the day and hop out of the truck. The easy conversation and warm nap have you in a great mood, one that makes you a little bolder than you might otherwise be. Walking into the diner, you grab onto Mando’s arm, smiling at him when he looks down at you in surprise. He doesn’t pull away from you though and your heart beats a little bit faster.

The diner has plenty of open seats and you seat yourselves, grabbing one of the booths. The stiff vinyl isn’t the most comfortable, but you can’t say you’re surprised. The place looks like it hasn’t been renovated in a decade. If the smell from the kitchen is anything to go off of though, the food will be just fine.

A waitress comes over to take your orders. She’s exactly what you would imagine a waitress to look like in a diner like this one. Slightly heavyset, a kind face, and a big smile to offer you. “Hi there, what can I get the two of you?” she asks.

“I’ll take a coke, ma’am,” Mando says. He seems oblivious to the flush on the waitress’s cheeks at his baritone.

“I’ll take a coke too.”

“I’ll be right back, folks.”

You reach over to grab a sticky menu from the end of the table. The stickiness grosses you out a little, but it really does add to the ambiance of the place. Your conversation from earlier drifting back into mind, you immediately look for the breakfast section. Perfect. Their ‘two eggs and more’ option is exactly what you were looking for.

The waitress returns with your drinks and takes your orders, Mando getting himself a burger and fries. You smirk at him, taking the wrapper off of your straw. “I thought you said you weren’t a burger and fries kind of guy?”

Mando watches as you carefully make a wrapper worm, dropping the smallest amount of soda on the paper to make it move. “I just said tacos were my favorite, never said I’m a guy who doesn’t enjoy a good burger and fries, sweetheart.”

“Fair enough,” you say with a shrug.

You fall into a comfortable silence together at the table. Silence isn’t an uncommon occurrence between the two of you. When you first joined Mando you talked all the time. Trying to fill up the empty space, feeling like if someone wasn’t talking then the situation was awkward. Slowly you learned though. The silence was never awkward until you made it that way and unless Mando had something to say, he’d stay quiet. He’s not incapable of conversation, he just doesn’t like to force it.

You softly hum a tune that’s been stuck in your head, looking out the diner window and enjoying the sunset. It’s a gorgeous one today, the sky looking like an oil painting with its gradient of colors. The flat plains allow for a good view of it too, only a small building in the distance blocking any part of the horizon. You kick yourself for not picking up that disposable camera at the gas station this morning. The photo would never do it justice, but at least that way you could have a small piece of the gorgeous sky to hold onto.

Plates being set down on the table brings you back down to earth. You happily dig into your meal, pleased to have been right about the quality of food here. Nothing could beat a good meal at a greasy diner. Mando seems to enjoy his burger as well, scarfing it down well before you finish your plate.

He always ate like that and you aren’t sure why. It’s as though he thinks if he doesn’t eat it fast enough then someone is going to come and steal it from him. Early on you’d tried to speed up your eating, feeling awkward every time he finished and was forced to wait on you. Now though, you don’t care. Mando rarely ever stops moving and a meal with you is a time you can be certain that he isn’t doing anything for once. You hope that eventually it might encourage him to actually enjoy his food as well, but that still seems a long way off.

Mando picks at his fries and sips at his coke while you finish up. The waitress comes by to refill the drinks, another flush on her cheeks when Mando thanks her. There must not be many attractive men who roll through here if a simple thanks has her blushing, you think. Poor lady, she seems quite nice.

“So, what’s the plan?” you ask Mando between bites of egg and toast.

“Plan?”

“Yes, plan. We’ve been driving west for two days now and you seem to have some destination in mind. So, what’s the plan?” What plan, of course Mando has a plan. He always does. Was it always well thought out or complete? No, but there is never a time where he doesn’t have some sort of plan, some idea of where he’s off to next. You’re the one without plans, content with travelling alongside him.

Before Mando can reply, the waitress returns to the table and clears his now empty plate. “Can we get a slice of your pie?” Mando asks.

“Of course, what flavor would you like?” she replies.

“Whatever flavor you think is best, ma’am.” That garners yet another blush on the waitress’s cheeks. Wow. Things must be really bad around here then. One good-looking customer shouldn’t have that big of an impact on anyone, much less a woman who’s clearly made this job her life’s work.

She leaves and you prompt Mando again. “So? Plan?”

“I’m going to meet someone tonight, pick up a new job. Then we’ll go from there,” he finally tells you.

You aren’t pleased by his half-cryptic half-telling answer. He’s always doing this to you, giving you answers but never quite the whole thing. You bet he already knows what the next job is, he’s just being coy about it for some ridiculous reason.

You decide not to push it and slide your plate over to Mando. There are some hash browns left and he won’t just ask for them despite the fact that you’re clearly done. He doesn’t say thanks, just picks up the fork and shovels them in. This by now is routine too so it doesn’t bother you, but it’s still odd. Mando is just weird about food.

He finishes the last of your meal and the waitress returns with the pie. “Blueberry, winner of the county festival five years running,” she tells you.

You grab a fork and dig in, suddenly finding the room in your stomach for dessert. Best pie in America might be a stretch, but you believe their claim to the best pie in the county. It’s delicious, eliciting a small but satisfied groan from you on the first bite. You go to take a second bite when you realize Mando hasn’t moved yet, he’s just watching you with an expression on his face that you can’t quite make out.

“Earth to Mando?” you say, waving your hand. “Try the pie, it’s delicious.”

He breaks from his stare and takes a piece of the pie. “‘S good,” he says around the mouthful.

You laugh at his terrible manners. “Gross, finish chewing before you talk.”

He doesn’t have a witty retort, but he gives you a grin that makes you feel like you’ve won a million dollars. It’s one of the ones that reaches his eyes, making them just shy of sparkling. Now you really wish you had bought that disposable camera.

Finishing the award-winning dessert, you and Mando go up to the counter to pay. He’s left a tip on the table, a sizable one in your opinion, but you aren’t going to say anything about it. Mando is always leaving big tips at places like these.

You take in the diner for one last moment, not paying attention to Mando’s conversation with the waitress until she says something that catches your ear.

“-shift ends in a half hour.” Did you hear that right? Was she really propositioning Mando right now? Christ, things must be downright desolate around here.

Your heart stops as you wait to hear Mando’s reply. He could easily accept. She’s an attractive woman with that classic middle America charm about her. Any other man would probably take her up on the offer. Would it shatter your heart into a million pieces if Mando did? Most likely. But do you have any right to feel that way? Most likely not.

Mando isn’t tied to you, at least not in that way, and he’s certainly still a man. You haven’t known him to chase after any women the whole time you’ve been with him, but surely he has needs and the waitress is beautiful and willing. You wouldn’t be able to fault him for it.

“I’m flattered, but the lady here and I need to be getting back on the road,” Mando says, slinging an arm around your shoulders. You do your best to keep your face neutral, not wanting to come off as rude while also trying not to make it obvious the way your heart swoops at Mando’s reply. You know he doesn’t mean anything serious by it, but the implication is still very much there.

Embarrassment washes over the poor woman’s face. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I just assumed…” she trails off, not finishing her thought. You want to feel bad for her, but you can’t help but feel sorry for yourself.

You have a good idea of what she assumed. You’ve heard a multitude of mistaken relationships by now between you and Mando. Everything from some kind of family relation, to something more perverted that’s assumed by greasy motel attendants who cast odd glances when you ask for a double instead of a single. It’s never any less uncomfortable.

Mando brushes it off. “It’s fine ma’am, no harm, no foul.” The waitress doesn’t blush at his words anymore.

Bill paid, you and Mando leave the diner. His arm leaves you and you climb back into the truck. The radio flickers back to life and neither of you speak. You wish you could know what’s going on inside of his head. Probably just thinking about the next job. That seems like him, always focused on what’s coming next.

You can’t help but be consumed with thoughts of him. Situations like the one with the waitress always left you distracted. There’s no real way to describe your relationship with Mando. You had helped him with a deal and he had helped you with a way out of your one-horse town. Originally neither of you planned on staying together for this long, but at some point Mando stopped asking you where you wanted to go and you stopped asking if he was going to leave.

You’re comfortable around each other, content to drive across America while Mando picks up job after job. At some point your feelings deepened for him, you aren’t exactly sure when, but now you can’t imagine leaving Mando. It’s no longer just about the adventure of it for you. It’s something more, a deeper tie than you’ve ever had to anyone. However, you have no idea if he feels the same way and you don’t intend to find out. Better to love your mystery man from afar then reveal yourself and get left in the dust.

Fifteen minutes into the drive, Mando reaches over and turns down the radio. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable back there.”

You’re a bit surprised to hear an apology. After all, he had nothing to really apologize for. The waitress had come onto him, not the other way around. You know Mando isn’t the type to flat out refuse and insult someone like that. What he had done was… fine. You had hardly even considered it.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable, Mando,” you tell him. “If anything she did, propositioning you like that.”

A small, relieved smile works its way across his face. “It was quite bold.”

That makes you laugh. “I’m not surprised, she was sizing you up since we walked in.”

“She was not,” Mando argues.

You shift in your seat to face him. “Are you kidding? You really didn’t notice her blushing every time you spoke to her?” If Mando was this oblivious maybe you didn’t need to worry about him catching onto you.

“Now you’re just lying, sweetheart.”

“Am not. You just don’t pay attention.”

Mando rolls his eyes and turns the radio back up. He mumbles something but you can’t make it out. You let it slide and allow yourself to relax. Your hand falls to the center of the bench seat as you look out the window. The stars are coming out now, another gorgeous sight in the vast expanse of the sky. So far away from the city, it feels like you can see every pinprick of light the universe has to offer. It’s a bit disorienting honestly. Nothing makes you feel smaller by comparison and yet, you don’t really mind.

You startle as something wraps around your hand. Looking down, you realize that it’s just Mando, holding your hand as he does when you’re close to falling asleep in the truck. You look up at him, confused. You aren’t anywhere close to nodding off. He should know that, so why…?

Mando doesn’t look at you, keeping his eyes fixed on the road. His thumb softly rubs against the back of your hand. You relax into his touch, turning your eyes back to the stars. Confusion about Mando’s actions doesn’t compare to the way your stomach flips at his gentle touch. It feels nice, domestic almost, if one can consider a life lived out of the front seat of a rusted out pickup domestic. His hand doesn’t leave yours until he pulls into the pothole filled parking lot of some dive bar.

Mando parks and turns the truck off. You move to get out of the truck with him when he squeezes your hand to stop you.

“Stay in the truck,” Mando says. His hand leaves you and he opens his own door, jumping out onto the cracked asphalt.

You look over at him, incredulous. “Excuse me? You know I am old enough to go in there, right?”

“I know. Stay in the truck.” Mando closes the truck door, giving you no more room to argue with him. It pisses you off.

What is this? Soften you up by holding your hand only to leave you behind? You hate when he does this, treating you like a child that’s just tagging along with him. You suppose you are tagging along, which stings a bit more, but you could be helpful, useful even if he would just let you in. Instead he keeps you at arm’s length at times, treating you like you can’t take care of yourself. He has no right to boss you around like that, telling you where you can and can’t go.

You watch his figure enter the bar, temper rising. If this place was good enough for him, it was certainly good enough for you. A bar like this had been where you met Mando months ago, working as a bartender and server. It didn’t bring back the best of memories, but you can handle yourself. At worst a fight might break out or patrons might get a little handsy. You can avoid the first and as for the second, it’s not as though Mando would need to put someone in the hospital for getting a little too flirty with you.

After fuming in the truck for a couple minutes, you make up your mind. You look yourself over in the mirror, trying to fix your appearance to look like you hadn't just spent the last two days in a truck. Pleased with yourself, you pull your shirt down slightly to reveal a bit more cleavage. The discovery of the power a pair of tits held in dive bars was one you made a long time ago. You flip the mirror back up and get out of the truck.

You practice your walk as you approach the bar door, trying to keep it calm and confident. Mando is going to be pissed at you for this, you already know, but you refuse to be treated like a child. If coming in here without his permission is what it takes for him to view you differently, then so be it. Younger you might be, but incapable you are not.

The moment you walk in the door, you spot Mando. He’s in the corner, talking to someone with his back to the door. He doesn’t even notice as you walk in and stroll up to the bar.

The man behind the counter is old, his white shirt spotted with stains and a towel thrown over his shoulder. It’s almost too stereotypical a look and you want to laugh. The stiff look he gives you though stifles your amusement.

“What can I get you?” he asks gruffly as you take a seat at the bartop.

“I’ll take a whiskey on the rocks.”

Whiskey is not your favorite drink. Not by a long shot. Really, you would have loved to order something fruity that you can’t taste the alcohol in, but whiskey is something you’ve learned to tolerate. You know that appearances matter in a place like this and a fruity drink would mark you as someone lost, not as someone who belongs here. You aren’t looking to get trashed anyway, just something to calm your nerves.

It doesn’t take long before someone is sidling up next to you at the bar. You don’t acknowledge him right away, instead staring up at the small CRT TV that’s playing the local news above the bar. Some murder case from a couple towns over is currently being highlighted. Lovely.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing here?” he asks you.

You glance over at him, enough to get a look, but you don’t let your eyes linger. Lingering eyes would mean an invitation that you certainly don’t want to give. You have to admit, as far as seedy dive bar men went, he isn’t hard to look at. Not much older than you, clean shaven, bright blue eyes. Another time you might have gone for someone like him. Not now. These days your thoughts are only occupied by scruff, dark hair, and warm brown eyes.

“Came in for a drink,” you reply simply.

He leans in a bit closer. “Can I buy you another?”

You take a sip of your drink. “I think I’m alright, thanks.”

He pushes in even further, placing a hand on your thigh. This guy didn’t take no for an answer apparently. “Aw, come on now, don’t be that way sweetheart.”

Hearing him call you sweetheart makes you want to punch him more than him touching you does. It sounds wrong coming out of his mouth, harsh and manipulative, not the smooth and warm way Mando says it. For a moment, you do seriously consider punching this guy square in the jaw before deciding against it. You came in here to prove a point and not being able to handle a pushy guy would just prove the exact opposite of that.

You turn in your chair to move your thigh away from him. He has the decency to let his hand fall at least. “Don’t call me that,” you tell him.

“Alright then, what do I call you?”

You turn your attention back to the TV. Now they were highlighting a feel good story about an animal adoption from the nearby shelter. Odd shift in tone. You don’t reply to Blue-eyes and hope he gets the message.

“Playing hard to get, that’s fine,” he says. You take another sip of your whiskey. The news shifts to the weather. There’s more warm weather on the way for the next week, no storms in sight. That’ll be nice to drive in you think.

Blue-eyes’ hand returns to your thigh, creeping up higher than it was before. “I don’t mind hard to get, sweetheart.”

That one garners a slap. You do it before you even give it a real thought. It’s a good one at least, making a very solid sound as his head spins. It’s a testament to the bar that no one even spares it a second glance. Blue-eyes turns back to you, furious.

“You’re going to regret that, bitch,” he hisses at you, roughly grabbing your arm.

“You’re going to regret it if you don’t take your hand off of her.”

You’ve never been so happy to hear Mando’s voice in your life. Could you handle this guy? Probably. Do you want to? Absolutely not. You know on your own there's a near certain chance you'll end up with bruises before this guy gives up.

Somewhere in your mind you register the very real possibility that Mando is pissed at you right now. You shove it down, choosing to focus on the fact that he did just come to your defense.

Blue-eyes is more stupid then he looks and doesn’t read the very obvious threat Mando poses. Instead he doubles down and tightens his grip on you. “Oh yeah? And what are you going to do about it, old man?”

You can't say you're surprised when Mando punches him in the face instead of answering the question. You also can’t say that you feel bad about it either. The surprise and hurt of the sudden punch makes Blue-eyes release his grip on you, giving you enough time to move out of the way as Mando moves in. Mando grabs a fistful of Blue-eyes' shirt and pulls the guy in towards his face.

“Do you regret it?” Mando grits out. Blue-eyes sputters something that sounds like an apology and pushes himself away.

Satisfied, Mando now turns on you. You were right, he's pissed. His typically soft, warm eyes are hard on you now as he pulls you away.

You flounder to tell him you haven't paid for your drink but he just ignores you, dragging you out of the bar. If you were smarter, you would think to be a little scared about making a man like Mando mad at you. Instead, your thoughts are occupied with how he's barely even trying to overpower you and yet you couldn't break free of his grip if you tried. You wonder if there's something wrong with you for how much it's turning you on.

Arriving back at the truck, Mando releases his grip. "Get in," he demands.

You do as you're told and climb into the passenger seat as Mando goes around. Nerves finally settle in. Mando would never hurt you, you know that, but he could decide to ditch you somewhere. Whatever this situation is with him, it's far from formal. He has no obligation to you and could easily choose to end it. With the trouble you’ve just caused, you wouldn’t be surprised if this all comes to a swift and sudden end.

As Mando climbs into the cab, you stare down at the floorboards, terrified that he's going to tell you he's dropping you off somewhere and leaving you behind for good. You can't imagine your life without him now. There's nowhere for you to go, nothing for you to do without him. Right back to square one.

He doesn't speak right away, which only makes you more nervous. He peels the truck out of the parking lot, headed back in the direction you came from. You still don't look at him. It's obvious you fucked up and there's nothing you can really say to fix that. Your only hope is that he forgives you.

You're headed back through the small nearby town when he finally speaks. “I told you to stay in the truck.”

You don’t say anything in response. Anything you can come up with sounds childish in your head. The exact opposite of what you'd been trying to prove. Thankfully, Mando takes your silence as an answer.

“Why would you even do something like that? Do you know how stupid that was?” His hands are tight on the wheel, glancing between you and the road as he yells.

You mumble back to him.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

“He called me sweetheart,” you say a little louder.

“What?” He isn't going to let you off the hook with this and it gets under your skin. Some part of you thought he might be proud of you for smacking that creep and here he is berating you for it.

“He called me sweetheart, alright?” you half-shout.

Mando gives you a confused look, clearly not the answer he was expecting. “Do you- do you have a problem with that?” The heat is still present in his voice, but you can hear a little worry in it now. Shit. This is not what you wanted out of this whole ordeal.

You've never wanted the ground to come up and swallow you more. Why didn’t you just say that you smacked him for touching you? That would have been simple. How do you answer this without making everything weird? No, Mando, I don’t have a problem with that. I smacked him because I only like it when you call me that. Sure. That won’t be weird or awkward at all.

After cursing yourself for a few seconds, you manage a response. “No, I- I just didn’t like it when he said it.”

"Oh." That's Mando's only reply.

You know he's still angry about you coming into the bar, but apparently your answer has sidelined him. If it wasn't so embarrassing, you might even be rejoicing at his reaction. Instead you just feel like a fool.

The silence remains as you pull into a little local motel with the vacancy sign lit up. Mando hands you forty dollars, way more than you need, and tells you to get a room.

Okay. So he isn't getting rid of you… yet.

You barely even listen to the attendant as they tell you they only have one single available for the night. Now is not the time to be arguing about sleeping arrangements. You take the key, room 104, and make your way back to the truck.

You grab your bag from the flatbed and let Mando know the room number. He nods and goes to pull the truck around. You kick yourself as you walk over to the room. Why didn’t you just stay in the truck? Why didn’t you just lie to Mando about your reasons? He’s smart and it won’t take long now for him to put two and two together. Especially if he asks anymore questions.

You have no idea how Mando might react. If learning about your feelings towards him combined with what happened in the bar might be enough to leave you. He’s certainly not cold with you, but you’re not sure you’d call any of his actions romantic either. Holding your hand after the diner today is the closest he’s ever come. You wish you knew what that meant to him. You know what it meant to you.

Mando parks the truck outside of the room as you unlock the door. It’s not a fancy room, just one big square with a bathroom attached. There’s a full bed, a dresser with a TV on it, and a small table with a couple chairs. You toss your bag on the table and sit down on the edge of the bed. There’s no point in pretending you aren’t upset, Mando can always see through your lies. Might as well just get this over with.

Nervous, you hide your face in your hands, leaning forward with your elbows on your knees. You’re ready to deal with it, but not while actually looking at him. You can’t handle seeing his face as he figures things out; the way he might look at you while he rejects you. Suddenly you feel a wave of sympathy for the waitress earlier today. You hope Mando will let you down easy like he did for her.

You don’t look up when Mando comes into the room. His boots enter your line of vision and you close your eyes. You can’t look at any part of him right now. It’s too painful.

Mando says your name softly and you can sense as he kneels down in front of you. You don’t reply. Gently, he moves your hands away from your face. You still refuse to look at him and he cups your chin, lifting your head up to his.

“Look at me, sweetheart.” You wish you could resist, but you can’t. Not when he speaks to you in that soft tone. Not when he calls you that.

You meet his eye and see all the concern and worry he holds there. “I’m sorry, Mando. I should have listened to you.”

His hand slides up to hold your cheek. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have treated you that way. I could have at least told you why I didn’t want you coming in with me.”

You’re surprised at his apology. Two apologies he didn’t need to make in one day. This isn’t something you ever expected. You assumed he would still be full of heat and anger, not this careful kindness.

“Why didn’t you want me to come in?” you ask. You need to know the reason, need to know why it is he told you to stay behind. No matter how much the reason might hurt.

Mando sighs. “I didn’t want you to come in because I didn’t want anyone else looking at you.”

You pull back out of shock. “What?” Did you hear that correctly? Could that mean what you thought it might?

He takes off his baseball cap and runs a hand through his hair. “What can I say, sweetheart? I’m a jealous man.”

A thousand thoughts run through your mind. There are so many things you want to say, so many questions you want to ask, and yet none of them can find their way out. As a result, you do the only thing you can.

You lean in towards him, slowly, giving him enough time to stop you if he so chooses. He doesn’t though, instead following your lead and moving in closer. You carefully search his eyes for any answers they may hold. Your noses bump and you both pause. “Mando, I-”

He cuts you off. “Din. My name is Din.”

You close the gap and kiss him. The kiss is careful at first, as though you’re both still looking to confirm that yes, this is what you both want. Mand- Din’s lips are soft and sweet against yours and you melt as it’s everything you could have imagined and more. A small moan escapes you, one that you’re embarrassed about until it causes Din to deepen the kiss. Caution evaporates, quickly turning into passion as your tongues meet.

Din moves, getting up from the floor and pushing you back against the bed. His lips never leave yours, devouring you as though you might slip away at any moment. He gives your bottom lip a small nip, quickly soothing it with his tongue. You pull away, needing a moment to catch your breath.

“Is this okay?” Din asks, his voice low with desire. You respond by pulling him back down into another bruising kiss. Your positions shift as the kiss continues, Din’s knee finding its way between your legs as his arms wrap around you. Both of your hands have worked their way into his hair, something you’ve been fantasizing about for months now.

Din begins to kiss his way down your neck, leaving little love bites along the way. You gently tug on his hair, pulling a heavenly sound from him that only intensifies your pool of desire. Desperate for more, you move a hand down, seeking the hem of his shirt and slipping your hand underneath. His skin feels remarkable under your fingertips.

Din pulls away from your neck and quickly divests himself of his shirt. He allows you a moment to take him in, his lean physique flexing as he holds himself above you. Scars litter his body in various shapes and sizes, but you think they look beautiful against the glow of his honeyed skin.

Taking the opportunity, you remove your top as well, leaving you in your basic everyday bra. You wish you had worn your other bra, the sexier one, but with the way Din is looking at you, you’re not sure it matters. His lips return to your body, working his way across any and all of your newly exposed skin. One hand splays on your waist, holding you, grounding Din against you.

“You’re so soft, sweetheart,” Din murmurs against you. His lips find their way up to your chest, placing careful kisses against the globes of your breasts. He pauses and looks up at you, seeking your permission. You arch your back, allowing Din access to slip a hand beneath you and undo the clasp.

He pulls the bra away from you and you flush under the intensity of his gaze. “Perfect, you’re perfect,” Din says before reoccupying his mouth with your breasts. It seems that he has a real oral fixation, not that you mind in the slightest. His warm mouth feels heavenly against you, licking and sucking wherever he can.

Din takes one of your nipples into his mouth, his fingers playing with the other. It’s the best thing you’ve felt in months, better than any of your late night fantasies when you would try to satisfy your growing want for the man currently giving you so much pleasure. As though your attempts could ever come close to the real thing.

Din releases your nipple with a pop and returns to your mouth, licking his way inside. His kiss alone is enough to make you see stars. It makes you forget any other kiss you’ve ever shared, enveloping you in him and him alone.

You pull back slightly from the kiss, unable to take more without further relief. “Din, please, I want you,” you pant into his mouth. Din growls, actually growls, at your words. It's a far hotter response than it should be.

“Yeah, sweetheart? What do you want me to do to you? Tell me.” His knee comes up and presses his thigh against you where you want him most, causing you to moan out his name. “Use your words, sweet girl.”

He’s trying to kill you, you think. Calling you a name like that. Sweet girl. It loops in your mind until Din’s fingers ghost over your nipples again. “I want you to touch me,” you tell him.

“I’m already touching you,” Din says. He’s a tease, you think, growing slightly frustrated with him. His thigh moves against you again though and he’s immediately forgiven.

“Please, Din,” you whine, hoping he’ll take pity on you. Thankfully he does, moving his leg away and quickly removing your pants. You already know you’re soaking, your panties feeling cold against you with the loss of the other cloth barrier.

Din pauses for another moment to take you in before moving. You’re nearly bare before him, almost entirely on display.

“You’re so beautiful,” he compliments, his hands parting your thighs. “So perfect, so beautiful, and all mine.” You can feel yourself clench at his words. No one has ever made you feel this way before. His stare only relaxes you more, his words feeling like a warm blanket wrapping around your fears and quieting them.

Din’s fingers brush against you through the thin cotton. “Is this all for me, sweetheart? I can already feel how wet you are.”

He continues to tease you, only leaving you capable of nodding your head back at him. His eyes catch yours, watching your reaction as he pushes the near useless fabric off to the side and pushes one finger between your folds. Just the small touch sets you aflame, pushing yourself down onto his hand, wanting more.

His finger leaves you and you frown until you watch as he brings it to his mouth and licks your slick off of it. Din moans at the taste. “You taste better than you do in my dreams.”

He leans down to kiss you, sharing the taste of yourself while he pulls your panties off completely. They’re thrown haphazardly into the room, lost to be found for later.

Din then moves himself between your legs, slowly working kisses down your body as he slides back onto his knees on the floor. He grabs your waist and pulls you to the edge of the bed with ease and starts nipping and kissing your inner thighs. Your hands wind back into his hair, while you lie in disbelief that this is really happening right now.

Gentle kisses are placed along your folds, Din moving back as you try to grind your hips down onto him. His eyes catch yours again, mouth hovering over your clit as he speaks. “I’m going to taste you until you cum on my face and then I’m going to fuck you, okay?”

This time you manage a response, frantic to let him know that’s exactly what you want. “Yes, please, I want you so badly, Din.”

It’s all he needs to hear. His mouth comes down on your clit, carefully playing with the bundle of nerves, making you cry out and clench around nothing. He pulls away slightly and then licks a long stripe from bottom to top, pausing again at your clit to give it a teasing suck. Your hands pull at his hair from the attention.

He moves back down, teasing your entrance with his mouth. He moans, lapping up your pussy, acting every part a man dying of thirst who’s found oasis at your core. You buck into him and his hands quickly wrap around your legs, holding your hips in place. Din wants to pleasure you, but on his own terms, at his own speed.

You can’t make a coherent thought as he continues to eat you out. Small snippets of words make their way out of you, none of them making any real sense in conjunction with one another. It’s not until his thumb finds your clit as he continues to lick, suck, and nip at you that you find complete words to shout. “Din, oh god, yes, right there, I’m so close...”

Moments later you feel the tension within you snap, crying out as your body shakes from the overwhelming pleasure. Din continues to work you through your orgasm, only stopping when you physically push his head away from you. He trails hot kisses along your inner thighs again, telling you how beautiful you are, how good you taste, how perfect your pussy is.

As you come down from your high, Din removes the last of his clothes, finally freeing his stiff erection. Your breath catches as you take him in, your Adonis in the flesh. He’s gorgeous, you think, wondering what you did to get so lucky.

Then he’s back over top of you, kissing and sucking at your skin. Some of those are bound to leave marks for tomorrow but you don’t mind. You want everyone to see, for everyone to know that you’re his. No more mistaken assumptions about your relationship, you want it on display for the world.

You look down to catch a better glimpse of his cock, satiating the curiosity that’s plagued you for so long. He’s big. More than enough to fill you, possibly even more than you can handle. As wet as you are, you know you’ll need him to go slow, to slowly stretch you out before he can truly fuck you.

You tilt your hips, bumping against him, letting him know that you want him. “Do you want my fingers first?” Din asks. You know you should say yes, but you can’t imagine another moment without knowing what he feels like inside of you.

“No,” you tell him. “Just go slow.”

Din places a quick searing kiss against your lips and positions himself. The head of his cock presses against your slick entrance and you feel like you’re already seeing stars. Din is muttering in your ear, holding you tightly against him as he pushes into you.

“Fuck, you feel so good sweetheart. So tight and wet for me. I can’t wait to fill you up, to feel every inch of your sweet pussy.”

You nearly forget to breath as he slowly pushes in further. You can feel every inch of him and you only want more. Din’s stream of compliments are interrupted when he finally bottoms out in you, holding himself still as your walls clench and stretch around him. “Fuck, sweetheart.”

You turn your head and pull him into a blazing kiss, loving the way he feels filling you up. You wonder how you were ever satisfied with your fingers before when this had been next to you for so long. Din is apparently thinking along the same lines, whispering to you, “I’d have done this long ago if I knew you felt this good.”

You don’t even have time to consider the words as he slowly begins to move in you. The pleasure borders on agonizing as you begin to move your hips, encouraging him to move faster. Din responds quickly to your urging, setting a furious pace as he begins to lose all control. You know you’ll still be feeling him tomorrow and the thought makes you smile. You never want to go another day without a reminder of how he feels.

His thumb returns to your clit and you don’t have time to warn him before you’re thrown into another orgasm. Your walls clench around him and you lose yourself in the feeling of cumming on his cock. Din quickly follows, pulling out of you just in time to paint your stomach with ropes of his spend. You mourn the loss of him, but once Din finishes he buries himself back inside of you, causing another shock of pleasure to zing through your body.

Din rolls the both of you over, keeping himself sheathed in you, and allowing you to collapse on top of him. You’re both sweaty and panting, trying to come up with words. Din’s fingers lightly trace along your back, causing goosebumps to erupt across your flesh. You lift your head up from his chest in order to look at his face.

He’s completely debauched, sweat causing hair to cling to his forehead, the rest completely wild from your hands. His eyes are still blown wide, happily looking back at you. His lips are pink and swollen from all the kisses and licks he’s pressed into your skin. You know you can’t look much better than him.

You give a small clench around him and smile at the expression that runs across Din’s face. “I love the way you fill me,” you tell him. Din presses a loving kiss against your sweaty forehead.

“I never want to leave this perfect pussy of yours.” You can tell he means it too. If he could, he would stay buried in you forever. You love the way that sounds. His eyes flutter closed, reveling in the feeling of having you surround him.

“Din,” you say.

His eyes pop back open and refocus on you. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

A smile blooms across your face. “Nothing, I just wanted to say it. Din. It suits you.”

His name suits him in a different way than Mando does. Mando is the rough exterior, the front he puts up to the world. The one who punches men in bars for touching you and calling you pet names. The one that strikes fear into others, knowing that if he’s hot on their trail that they’re screwed. Din is the soft inside, the place where all of his ‘sweethearts’ originate, the cause for the hand holding and sparkling smiles. The man behind the armor that he presents to the world, the one who kisses and fills you up just right.

Din’s arms wrap around you tightly, clearly intent on never letting you go. You’re fine with that, letting it sink in that you’re finally laying in bed with the man who’s consumed your thoughts for months. A small, joyous giggle escapes you.

“What’s so funny?” Din asks.

“I thought you were going to leave me earlier. Now here I am, laying on top of you with your cock still inside of me.”

Din chuckles and you can feel it rumble in his chest. “I’m never letting you go sweetheart, no matter how much you piss me off.”

You fold your arms across his chest, letting your chin rest on your hands. “I am sorry. I just wanted you to notice me. I felt like you were treating me like a child,” you confess.

Din’s eyes widen a bit at your admission. “I always notice you, mesh’la. I never meant to treat you that way. I only want to keep you safe.”

“I know that now. Honestly, I feel so silly about it all.” He reaches up and pushes a strand of hair back from your face.

“Next time, I’ll take you in with me. I’ll show everyone that you’re mine.” He grinds his hips up into you to prove his point. It makes you squeal, causing a smirk to settle on Din’s lips. You give his cheek a small flick in retaliation but make no attempt to move.

You lay there for a little while longer, laying your head back down against Din’s chest, listening to his steady heartbeat beneath you. His hands trace anywhere he can touch on you, intoxicated by having you so close against him. Eventually though, you feel the call to use the bathroom and can no longer ignore it.

Din is almost painful sliding out of you, but you’re more upset about the loss of having him buried in you. Your legs are shaky as you stand, managing to make it to the bathroom on wobbly knees. You take a moment to clean yourself up, running a damp cloth across your body. Exhaustion hits as you return to bed, crawling under the covers and into Din’s arms.

You begin to drift off when Din asks, “Why’d you get a single? Not that I’m complaining.”

“All they had left. Maybe it was a sign,” you mumble back.

Din chuckles and presses a kiss against your head. “Yeah, maybe, sweetheart.”

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #modern!au #modern!din #din djarin fic #pedro pascal x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #mandocrasis fic

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