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mydemimonde · 6 months ago

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'Honey, Are You Coming?' (Baby Said, Part 2) — Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Reader

divider is from @plutism

a/n: hello! i'm soooo so sorry for taking too long in doing the second part of baby said, college and work are driving me insane and i barely have time to write. i really hope you like this

Summary: After that mindblowing night after the bar, you find yourself waiting for Aemond's call, growing slightly disappointed.

Words: 4691

Warnings: +18 (minors dni), female reader, no use y/n nor specific physical description, swearing, dirty talk, hand kink, praising, tiddy sucking, oral sex (m receiving), fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, slightly dominant aemond, riding, no proof reading! english is not my first language, i apologise in advance if there are any mistakes.

It’s been five days and you haven’t heard anything from Aemond. Not a call, not even a text message. Nothing. You started to feel a little bit anxious and somewhat offended. Perhaps he didn’t like you that much, or worse, he had a girlfriend and still had sex with you. You shake your head, trying to get rid of those thoughts, focusing on the task at hand.

A year before your graduation, you got a job in a small publishing house, working as an editor. You didn’t earn a fortune, but it was more than enough to make ends meet and pay rent. Still, you were trying to find a job in a bigger place, freelancing didn’t appeal to you and you were actually looking for a new flat, closer to the capital, which meant higher prices.

“For fuck’s sake,” you hear Arianne curse next to you, making you startle. With a frown, you lift your head to look at her. “You have been eyeing your phone for the last fifteen minutes, it’s quite annoying,” she says, half serious, half joking. The brunette tilts her head and places a hand on her hip. “He hasn’t called you yet, has he?”

You shake your head, pursing your lips. “I don’t know why it affects me so much… it was just a one night stand” you explain, running a hand through your hair and sighing.

“Perhaps he’s busy…” your friend tries to reason with you, seeing how defeated you looked. She gets on her knees and grabs your hands. “Hey, I don’t want you to feel like rubbish, you shouldn’t feel like this, even if he was a mindblowing fuck.” She says, quoting the words you said when you told her about that night, giving her all the nasty details over a cup of wine during dinner. “Have you checked his socials?” She asks, to which you nod.

“Yep. Private account on Instagram, no Twitter. Didn’t even bother to check Facebook, no one uses it nowadays” you move your hand in the air. “And before you ask, no, I didn’t ask a following request.”

“What’s stopping you?” She asks with a frown and clicks her tongue in annoyance when you shrug. “I swear to God…” she mutters under her breath before plopping down on her chair, opening an incognito tab in her browser, as if what she was doing was illegal.

You frown and move your chair next to hers. “What are you doing?” You watch as she types his name on the search bar. You read the first few results with narrowed eyes. They scan the many search results populating the screen, but they focus on one particular title. Meet the Targaryens: The Powerhouse Family Behind ‘Valyrian Press’

Oh God. “Click that one…” you point at the title and Arianne immediately clicks. The webpage loads quickly and a big picture pops up on the screen. Your eyes fall to Aemond’s figure in the family picture. He was looking into the camera, a serious expression on his face, his hands into the pockets of his black suit. He wore all black.

Arianne turns to look at you. “You didn’t tell me this snack was the son of Viserys Targaryen…”

“I didn’t know!” You whisper-shout, shrugging. “I had no idea he was the son of Viserys Targaryen, though the surname did ring a bell.” Just when she opens her mouth to speak, you interrupt her, lifting your index finger in the air. “Hey, it wasn’t a date, it was a fuck, okay? We didn’t just sit down to talk about our families” you explain, defending yourself. She lifts her hands in surrender.

“Didn’t say anything at all.” Your friend turns again and skims the article. “Well, my dear friend, you had sex with a single billionaire, son of the owner of one of the most important publishing houses in the country. If you don’t send that Instagram request, I will do it.” Just when she finishes saying that, your phone vibrates. Your head jerks and you extend your hand to grab it, your eyes widening when you see the notification. Arianne frowns. “Is it him?”

You nod, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. Arianne gasps and chuckles as you open the text message.

Hi. I apologise for not writing sooner. May I call you?

You fight the urge of jumping up and down and screaming of happiness, and instead you take a deep breath to calm down the butterflies in your stomach and type an answer, your hands shaking in excitement.

Hi there :) Sure, you can call me.

Just a minute after you sent that message, your phone vibrates once more, and you take the call, eager to listen to his voice. “Hi?”

“Hello, gorgeous.” Gorgeous. You hear him hiss. “I’m so, so sorry for not calling you back. I have been quite busy these days, travelling and accompanying my father to so many meetings…” you can picture him moving his hands around, explaining things to you. “I meant to call you right after that night, but work got in the way. I hope you accept my apologies…”

You smile against the phone. “Don’t worry, Aemond. It’s okay, I suspected you were busy,” you reply, biting your lower lip to try to stop a laugh, seeing Arianne making faces at your words and mouthing ‘I told you’.

“Anyways, I’m in the city right now… are you at work?” He asks after a soft sigh and you find yourself twirling a strand of your hair like a high school girl. How pathetic, you think.

“Yes, but I finish my shift at 5pm. We can grab a coffee or a sandwich, if you want…” you suggest.

“Of course, darling. Give me your address, I can pick you up and we can go to Honeyholt Bakery, they sell delicious lemon cakes.” You beam, lemon cakes were your favourites, but you never told him that. You give him your job’s address before saying goodbye and hanging up.

You plop down on your chair, a dreamy look in your face as you look at the ceiling. You feel Arianne’s gaze on you, and you look down at her. She slowly shakes her head, a smirk making its way on her face. “I sooo envy you, lucky bitch” she jokes, making you giggle.

Knowing that you were hours away from meeting Aemond was all the motivation you needed to get down to work quickly, going over the document you had to edit before sending it to the executive editor. You finish a bit earlier than expected and grab your jacket and purse, kiss Arianne’s head and head towards the exit to wait for Aemond. You leave him a message letting him know you were ready, and not even a minute later you receive his reply. On my way ;)

Less than ten minutes later, you see a black BMW with tinted windows steering around the corner, slowing down and parking right in front of the doors of the building. The driver’s windows roll down and you see Aemond, with his hair combed back and wearing sunglasses. Fuck me.

He smiles at you and you smile back. “Hello, darling.” His voice is smooth and it makes you swallow hard. He steps out of the car, not before shifting the gear level into park mode and pulling the lever so that the car stays right in place.

“Hi, Aemond” you reply, your eyes sweeping over his lean figure clad in some brown polished shoes, black trousers, black shirt and black leather jacket. A lot of black. He looks delicious. He leans in to kiss your cheek, his expensive cologne filling your nostrils.

He places a hand on your lower back and indicates you to get into his car, opening the door for you, which you thank. He closes the door and walks around his vehicle to get inside, and you take a moment to look around, noticing how clean it smells. There’s music playing, the electric guitars and drums echoing in the small space. When Aemond gets inside and closes the door, he turns the volume of the radio down, but the music is still audible. You can recognize the song very clearly.

Meet me there where it never closes

Meet me there, I'll give you your roses

All is fair in love, oh-oh-oh

Honey, are you coming?

He takes his glasses off and begins driving the car at a normal speed as he talks. “How have you been, gorgeous?”

“I’ve been great… I have a lot more work now, but it’s so fulfilling,” you reply, your gaze falling to his hand on the steering wheel. He looks so confident as he drives, and you suddenly feel your cheeks getting hot, so you move your gaze to the window, watching the shops as you pass by.

Aemond smirks and glances at you. “I’m happy for you. The most important thing is enjoying and loving what you do” you hum at his answer, showing your agreement. “You work at a publishing house, right?”

“Yeah, I work as an editor, have been doing it for a year now” he raises his brows and nods.

“So I take it that you’re comfortable in that place…” his eyes are fixed on the road, concentrated on driving.

You purse your lips to the side, humming. “I’m actually looking for other publishing houses. I’m thinking about moving closer to the capital, and the rent is obviously higher in those areas, so I need a better wage.”

Aemond nods, taking in your words. “Well, my father has a publishing house. Valyrian Press, you might have heard of it.” Your eyes widen in surprise —fake, of course,— at his words. “There are some vacancies, and the pay is really good.”

“Your dad owns Valyrian Press?” He hums. “Oh, that’s why your surname rang a bell…” What a big fat lie.

Aemond huffs a laugh. “You’re telling me that you didn’t google my name?” How the fuck does he know things?

“Not me, my friend did.” He chuckles. “It never crossed my mind to google anything… but perhaps I did look up your social media…” you trail off.

Aemond chuckles again, the sound making your heart flutter. “Well, I barely use social media, I have an Instagram account but I’m not very fond of those apps…” You look at him and shake your head, letting out a soft chuckle. He parks the car outside the café. “What do y’wanna eat, darling?”

You. “Uhm, a cappuccino and some lemon cakes would be fine.”

He winks at you and smirks. “Excellent choice. I’ll be back soon” and with that, he exits the car. You watch him as he walks towards the bakery, biting your lip at the sight. You rest your head against the back of the seat, sighing and thinking about that man you barely know. You don’t know why, but you feel so drawn to him and you want to kick yourself because you’ve never felt like this for anyone. Not even your ex, for God’s sake.

You see Aemond getting out of the shop with two cups in one hand and a small white box with a yellow bow on top on the other hand. You stretch to get the door open, making it easier for him to get into the car.

“Thank you, beautiful” he offers you a smile and you sit comfortably in your position. He hands you the coffees and sets the box in the middle of your seats before closing the door and starting the car. “Where would you like to go?” He asks you, grabbing his cup and taking a sip from it.

“Wherever you want, Aemond… is there any specific place you wanna go?” You ask as you look at him, your eyes momentarily drifting to his hand on the steering wheel, the other one wrapped around the cup. Fuck, how is it that his hands were enough to make you go wild, the mere though of having them roaming over your body, pushing your legs apart, grabbing your hips, squeezing your tits, choking you… and his fingers, God, his long fingers.

“Hey!” He calls you, startling you. His glances at you once again, smirking when he sees you blinking and wide-eyed. “I asked you a question…”

You blink a few times more, frowning. “Uhm, sorry… what?” Your voice comes out meekly as you try to gather your thoughts. He stops at the red light.

“I asked you if you wanted me to take you to your apartment…” when you don’t answer, he huffs a laugh. “Cat got your tongue, hm?” He murmurs in a husky voice. He places his cup on the cup holder and extends his arm, his left hand coming up to your face to cup your cheek. “You like my hands, don’t you?” Aemond looks at you, giving you a smug smile when you mutter something inaudible. “You think I didn’t notice how you were staring at my hands, love?” You swallow hard as his thumb grazes your lower lip and you take the opportunity to open your mouth slightly, the tip of your tongue licking his digit before sucking it, the sensation going straight to his cock.

You hear him curse under his breath, his chest heaving. He sees the light going from red, to yellow, to green out of the corner of his eye and, reluctantly, he pulls his thumb out of your mouth, fearing that if you did that again, he might lose control of the vehicle. Before he retreats his hand you take it and guide it inside your jeans, letting him feel you.

“Fuck, you’re soaked” he mutters as he feels your wet folds, his other hand gripping the wheel tightly, his knuckles going white. You keep him there, pressing his hand against your cunt to get some relief. “Holy shit, babygirl, wait…” he retreats his fingers from your cunt and you whine. “Shh, relax…” he shushes you, his fingers quickly undoing the button of your jeans and pulling down the zipper to get more space.

He hisses when he gets his hand inside your lace panties again, his middle finger trailing up your entrance, gathering some of your essence to rub your clit with his digit. “Oh, fuck” you curse, throwing your head back and closing your eyes as the pad of his finger rubs lazy circles over your bud.

“God, love, you’re really wet… thinking about my hands turns you on, huh?” He taunts you, a low growl rumbling in his throat when he feels your cunt sucking his finger in. Aemond slides his finger inside you and you mewl as he starts pumping it. He continues driving, his gaze focused on the road ahead, his mind racing. “Want another finger, baby?”

“Hmm… ngh… yes, Aemond- oh!” You squeak when he inserts his index finger. You grip the grab handle above the window, trying to hold onto something as his fingers continue his work. “Fuck, right there” you moan when his fingers curl up, hitting your sweet spot with ease.

Aemond hums, curling them again and increasing the pace of his fingers. You were thankful the windows were tinted, otherwise passers-by would see what you were doing inside that car. Aemond’s grip on the steering wheel tightens as he feels your cunt tightening around his fingers, you are so close to cumming so he slows down the movements.

“N-no, Aemond, don’t stop, I’m so close…” you complain in a whine, and he groans lowly.

“Baby, I’m so fucking hard right now and if you continue making those beautiful sounds I might cum in my pants and crash this vehicle. I need you to tell me where you wanna go, I can’t focus on the road if I have you squeezing my fingers like that…” he explains, panting a little bit.

“Pull over… drive to a parking lot, I don’t know…” you plead, bucking your hips slightly. You don’t know how long you can last, not when the heel of his palm is pressing against your clit, eliciting whimpers from you.

Aemond drives towards the nearest parking lot he finds, his fingers moving inside you again at a relentless pace, making you gasp. “Fuck, baby, I can feel you getting closer, you’re squeezing my fingers so tightly…” He says through gritted teeth, smirking when you let out a high-pitched moan the moment his fingers reach that rough patch inside you, making you jolt. “C’mon, pretty girl. Cum all over my fingers, wanna feel you…” he coaxes.

He grunts when you press your legs together as you come, head thrown back and jaw open, incoherent words and moans spilling past your lips. His fingers continue working inside you, helping you ride out your orgasm. He pulls them out, and you nearly choke as you watch him, through half-lidded eyes, how he brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean and moaning at the taste.

“You taste incredibly sweet, baby. You have no idea how much I need to put my cock inside you” you moan in response, head spinning at his words. He enters the parking lot and rushes to find a spot, parking the car immediately. “Come to the back” he orders, and he peeks around to check that no one sees you in the almost empty place.

Both of you get to the back of the car, almost throwing yourself at him. His lips capture yours in an intense kiss, his hand cupping your neck to pull you closer and angle your head to deepen it while the other rests on your waist. The tip of his tongue presses slightly against your lower lip and you gladly part your lips, allowing his tongue to explore your mouth. You can taste the strong coffee in his mouth.

Your hands trail down his chest, feeling his heartbeat quicken under your palms. Aemond growls into your mouth when one of your hands cup his evident bulge, palming him through the fabric. “Holy… shit…” he mutters against your lips. You take the opportunity to leave open-mouthed kisses along his jaw, his neck, all the way to his earlobe.

“Want to suck your cock, Aemond…” you purr in his ear before taking his earlobe between your teeth, nibbling softly as you lower the zipper of his jeans, slithering your hand under his boxers.

“F-fuck…” he curses through gritted teeth, closing his eyes for a moment as you pull down his jeans and boxers in one motion. Your mouth waters at the sight of his cock straining against his stomach and you move in your place, bringing your legs up to kneel next to him, your ass propped up in direction to the window. Your index finger grates the weeping tip, making him shudder. “Don’t tease… put your mouth to work, needy girl” he instructs, his hand landing on your ass with a loud smack, making you yelp.

You swallow hard and lick your lips as you lean forward, your right hand wrapping around his base. Like a lollipop, your tongue licks his cock from the base to the tip, eliciting a hiss from him. The hand that smacked your ass comes to rest on the small of your back, hiking up your blouse and rubbing circles on your skin.

Your lips wrap around his tip, sucking it gently and swirling your tongue around it. “God… yes, like that…” he breathes out, his voice rough. You stroke his shaft with your hand in rhythm with the movements of your mouth, up and down his length. Your hair falls to the side but Aemond is quick to grab it, putting it in a ponytail as your head bobs up and down. He resists the urge to buck his hips up, trying not to hurt you.

You stop stroking him and move your hand to cup his balls, which ignites something primal in Aemond. He can’t help but thrust his hips upwards into your mouth, making you moan. “Fucking hell, you’re taking me so deep into that wet mouth… love it” he coos, biting his lip at the sight of your mouth around him and your head bobbing up and down. His cock is covered in your saliva, glistening under the dim lights of the parking lot.

You hollow your cheeks as you go up, your hands wrapping around his base again, adding a bit of pressure. That makes him growl and pant, the sounds he makes going straight to your cunt. He continues praising you in choked, needy moans, telling you how good your mouth feels on his cock, how he’s going to wreck your pussy immediately afterwards, his hand guiding your head up and down his length. You feel him twitch in your mouth, the signal that he’s close to cumming.

“Are you coming, Aemond?” You ask, your hot breath fanning against his length before taking him deep into your mouth, gagging around him.

“Y-yes… s-stop… I’m so close…” he warns, the obscene wet sucking sounds that fill the car making him let out a strangled moan. He pulls you away from his length, a trail of saliva still connecting your mouth to him. You use the palm of your hand to wipe your mouth, licking your lips and looking at him.

“Why did you want me to stop?” Your hand presses on his inner thigh, making him sigh deeply and let go of your hair.

“Because when I cum, I want to do it deep inside your cunt, alright?” He explains as he leans his back against the seat, his words making your jaw drop. “Now, get rid of those jeans and ride me.”

You eagerly do as told, putting your legs down and shimming out of your jeans and soaked panties. You toss them aside and straddle him, your bent knees on either side of his hips, your chest pressing against his given the constricted space you are in. His hands immediately land on either side of your hips, guiding you to sink down on his cock.

Both of you moan at the contact, your eyes close as he lets you adjust to his size. When you open your eyes you find his hungry gaze on you, his pupils dark with lust. He licks his lips, bringing one hand to cup your neck and pull you down to kiss him. The kiss is slow but passionate, sensual. You find support on his shoulders and you start moving your hips, finding the right rhythm.

Aemond pulls back to breath, his lips hovering over yours as you rest your forehead against his. His fingers grip your hips tightly, certainly leaving marks. “Hmm…” he hums, feeling how your cunt sucks him in, engulfing him. “D’you feel me deep inside you, baby?” He murmurs against your lips.

“Y-yes… you’re so deep, Aemond,” you reply in a shaky whisper. You feel his breath against your face due to the close proximity, hearing the low grunts and whines that leave his lips. His hands move from your hips to your abdomen, lifting your blouse to feel your skin, his touch setting your body on fire.

“No bra?” His eyes widen in surprise and he smirks. “Naughty girl, I might have to punish you…” He taunts as he pulls the straps of your blouse down, freeing your breasts. He mutters a curse and dives into your chest, his hands bringing your tits together, squeezing as his tongue swirls around your right nipple, making you arch your back against him. “You fit perfectly in my hands, baby…” he squeezes your tits once more, making you throw your head back. Aemond leans forward and leaves wet kisses on your throat, sucking the junction between your neck and shoulder as his big hands knead your tits.

Your nails dig into his shoulders as you increase the speed of your movements, letting out desperate whines as the tip of his cock bullies the rough patch inside you. You’ve never been this wet before, the squelching sounds making you blush furiously in embarrassment. “Fuck, you’re so wet… can’t wait for when you soak my cock as you come” those dirty words he mutters against your ear have you gasping loudly and furrowing your brows. Aemond rests his forehead against your shoulder, the sounds escaping his lips coming out muffled.

“Aemond… I’m… fuck, I’m so close…” you speak in a choked moan, your arms wrapping around his neck as you bounce on his dick.

You feel him smirk against your skin, his teeth nibbling your collarbone. “Yeah, I can feel that… you’re so tight, love, you feel so fucking good” he praises, his voice hoarse and deep. Aemond lifts his head from your shoulder, looking up at you, his eyes roaming over your face. “Look at me” he demands in an authoritative, stern voice. You do as told, locking your eyes with his. “Do not tear your gaze away from me, you understand?” You nod frantically, your brows knitted together in pleasure.

His hands lower to your backside, gripping your ass tightly, helping you as you move on top of him. He brings his legs together, plants his feet on the floor and starts bucking his hips up, meeting your movements. Your eyes close shut involuntarily, wanton and sinful moans spilling past your lips as he pounds into you. “I said, fucking look at me” he says through gritten teeth, and you obey, as hard as it is to do so.

His eyes roam over your face, committing every detail to memory. “Y’gonna cum all over my cock, hmm? Can feel you squeezing me.” You nod, unable to speak. His hands grip your ass tighter, his nails digging into your skin. “Come, baby… let go and soak me, c’mon,” he gives your ass a loud smack, and that does it to you. His mouth is agape as he watches you come undone above him, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull and lips parted as you gasp for air. “That’s it, baby… I got you.”

You feel blood rushing through your ears, your eyes flutter close and your legs tremble. You feel Aemond’s hard grip on your ass as he keeps pounding into you, chasing his own release. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna…” his hips stutter and his arms wrap around your waist tightly as he cums deep inside your cunt, a guttural groan coming out of his lips, the sound muffled as he hides his head in your shoulder.

Both of you stay there, panting and holding each other as you come down from your intense orgasms. You feel like you’re walking on a cloud, feeling boneless. Once you finally catch your breaths, he lifts his head to place a kiss on your lips. He pulls back and huffs a laugh.

“Shit… are you okay?” He asks, placing soft kisses along your collarbone, bringing you back to earth. You struggle to find the words, but eventually open your mouth to speak.

“Yes… I feel amazing…” he chuckles at your answer, your voice coming out croaky.

“I’m glad. Did I fuck your brains out?” He smirks when you nod, and places another kiss on your lips as his hands rub soothing circles on your back. He rests his forehead against yours, looking into your eyes. You untangle your arms from around his neck and place your hands on either side of his face, admiring his features. “I was serious, you know. About the vacancies,” he explains to you. “I can ask my father to arrange a job interview. I’m dead serious, darling.”

You chuckle, the sound of your soft laugh making him smile. You tilt your head. “Hmm… I think you’re just trying to get into my pants…” you tease, to which he chuckles.

“But I already did. Twice” he replies in a low voice, making you giggle. “Oh, and one more thing.” He adds, looking at you, his playful expression turning into a soft one. “Would you go on a date with me?”

Your lips curve into a smile. “Yes. I would love to.”

taglist: @melsunshine @tsujifreya @fan-goddess

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen one shot #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x you #moder aemond targaryen #modern aemond targaryen smut #hotd #hotd smut #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell fic #mydemimondewrites

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moonlightndaydreams · 7 months ago

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Part 2: horny!jisung x fem!reader // Hyunjin // Minho

a/n: after leaving this quickie on a cliffhanger, I’ve had various requests to write a follow up… so here it is 🤗

Where we left off in Part 1:

Jisung wants a quickie with you in the backseat of Minho’s van at the gas station while Hyunjin and Minho finish paying for fuel and snacks. You’re both about to come when they are back at the car and are reaching for the door handle.

CW: unprotected p in v, exhibitionism, cream pie, oral sex (m. rec.), fingerfucking, blow jobs, cum swallowing, sharing y/n, pet names (kitten, baby, beautiful), alluding to future partner sharing.

You both halt your movements, quieting your breaths as best you can as the two front doors open and Minho and Hyunjin climb in.

“Fuckin’ expensive.” Minho comments on the fuel price as he pulls out of the gas station.

“So’s the snacks. Hey do you guys want so—” Hyunjin turns to look into the backseat. “Oh my fucking God!” He wails.

“What?” Minho glances back. “Oh you’re fucking kidding me. Can’t you two wait ten minutes?”

“We’re not doing anything! It’s innocent. I swear.” Whines Jisung. “Ngh.” A little whimper slips out of him when you clench around him as Minho turns a corner a little too sharp.

“Come on. You’ve both got your pants down around your legs.” Minho sneers. “Go on…You might as well keep going.”

“Really?!” Jisung says excitedly. “Baby, grind on me.” He starts you rock you back and forth on his cock.

“Sungie? I’m not sure. They might not really want to hear how loud we get, or how…wet… I sound.” You peer out from hooded eyes towards Minho.

Hyunjin turns around again wide eyed. “I wanna hear all of it.” He smirks.

————

You find yourself bouncing hard on Jisung’s cock. His hands up the front of your hoodie, groping at your tits, while your cunt makes the most obscene sounds as it slaps against his body.

Your pornographic moans are bound to be making every cock in the car throb with need.

Jisung isn’t any quieter, his sounds ranging from deep grunts to high pitched whines fill the car too.

Minho adjusts the rear view mirror so he can watch the show, and Hyunjin is munching on crisps and letting out a moan of his own every so often.

“Sungie, come inside me baby. You know you wanna fill me up.” You encourage, your voice full of desperation.

“Fuck… I do… I do baby.” He pants and fucks you harder.

“Sungie… oh…ngh…I’m coming baby.” You close your eyes and throw your head back. “Fuck Sungie…feels s’good….that’s it fuck me through it…yeah…like that.”

As you ride out your high, you feel Jisung get even harder inside you. He’s close.

“Please…please…fill this pussy up. That’s it, Sungie..fill me up...” You purr as hits his climax, emptying himself with the cutest whimper on his lips.

There is a collective moan throughout the car. Then silence, except your yours and Jisung’s laboured breathing.

“Oh my god.” You drawl as you roll yourself off of Jisung and close your eyes blissfully.

You’re caught off guard when suddenly the back doors open and Minho is pulling Jisung out of the car, and he and Hyunjin clamber into the backseat with you.

“You’re driving the rest of the way, Ji.” Minho states. You look around to see Minho has pulled over at the side of the road.

“Just drive. There’s something Hyunjin and I need to do.”

Jisung looks at you and you see the excitement in his eyes. You bite your lip and nod.

He slips into the drivers seat and turns to you between the two front seats. “Baby. Our wish is coming true.” He whispers.

You lean forward and kiss him deeply.

“Make sure you’re really loud for me.” He strokes your cheek tenderly. “I don’t want to miss a single choking sound, or a pretty whimper. Can you do that for me?” He leans his forehead in yours.

“Yes, Sungie.” You whisper.

“It’ll get me so hard that when we get home, you’d better be ready, ‘cos I’m gonna fuck you so good. Would you like that, baby?”

You nod quickly. “You’d fuckin’ better, Sungie.”

“Come on, y/n. let us play with you.” Hyunjin leaves your sweatpants dangling around your thighs, but pulls up your pretty thong so he can admire your ass against the red lace. “Stunning.” He massages a cheek and licks his lips. "Look at all that cum sticking to your panties, gorgeous. Ji really gave you a bucket load, didn’t he?”

“Kitten.” Minho squeezes your other ass cheek and gives it a light slap. “Show me what your pretty mouth can do.” He gently pulls you towards him. “You made me so hard fucking Ji like that. Now I need you to finish what you started.” he nods towards his crotch.

He was so hard underneath his sweats, the outline of his erection clear as day. You swallow hard as you reach for the waistband and tug them down to free his cock. Mouthwatering.

Your carefully wrap your hand around him and lick his shaft, getting it nice and wet for your hand to slide up and down. You work his length with your hand as you lick around the head, finishing by gliding the flat of your tongue over the slit. Minho sucks in a breath. “Stop teasing. I need to be in your mouth. I have to feel your lips around me.”

You look up at him coyly, then smirk, before sinking over him. He releases a low groan.

Hyunjin caresses and squeezes your ass, then slips a finger under your underwear, pulling it to the side to run a finger along your slit. “Gotta put all this cum back in you. Ji would want you to keep it safe.” He scoops some cum that had spilled from you and pushes it back inside. “There you go. Back where it belongs.”

You whimper as Hyunjin’s fingers reach deep inside you.

Jisung groans in response. “She likes that. She likes to be finger fucked." he says hoarsely from the driver's seat.

Hyunjin sucks in a breathe between his teeth. "Is that so?" he withdraws his finger and pushes it back in. "Pretty." he cooes and adds a second digit your cunt.

"Our kitten knows what she's doing. Sucking cock like this. Fuck you can take a lot can't you. Ji, you're a lucky shit, you know that right?" he calls to Jisung.

"I am lucky. But I can't hear any choking sounds. Aren't you gonna fuck her face?"

You moan around Minho's cock as Hyunjin manages to add a third finger.

"But, she's doing so well on her own." Minho chuckles and wraps his fingers around your ponytail. "But if you wanna hear her choke, okay." He holds your head still and thrusts his hips up so his cock hits the back of your throat.

You automatically gag, making a strained choking sound. You know Jisung gets off on hearing you struggle, so you try as hard as you can to be noisy for him.

The car jerks to the side, clearly Jisung is affected. You smile internally.

Minho picks up his pace, steadily becoming rougher with each thrust. You no loner need to exaggerate the struggle, Minho is truly assaulting your throat now. The tears are real, there is so much saliva. You're writhing and grinding your hips back on Hyunjin's fingers as he scissors and stretches you.

"So wet, pretty girl. I can't tell what's you and what's Ji anymore. Fuck. So noisy too." your cunt squelches loudly every time he thrusts his fingers into you.

You're on the brink of your second orgasm when you feel Minho release his load deep into your throat. "Swallow it, kitten. I need to know it's in your belly." He pulls your head off his cock. "Show me." he demands, his voice strained. You open your mouth wide and stick your tongue out.

"Good girl." he growls and crashed his lips on yours. This is the first time you and Minho have kissed, well all of this is a first, but there's something so intimate about the way his tongue seeks yours, that has you melting against him. He swallows your moans then peels away. "Now," he says breathlessly. "You need to fix Hyunjin."

You do as you're instructed and turn yourself around to take care of Hyunjin. His cock is already out and leaking pre-cum, ready for you. You take him in your hand, ensuring you give him as much attention as you did Minho. Licking along the shaft, giving the tip a chaste kitten lick. Then you take him as deep as you can in your mouth. "Your lips look so pretty around my cock. Swallow me up. Be a good girl for me." He sighs.

As you bob up and down over his long cock, you feel Minho's fingers spreading you open. "So fucking wet." he growls squeezing three fingers into your needy hole. "Now let's make this pussy come."

He starts to fuck you fast with his fingers, aiming every single thrust directly into your sweet spot. You want to cry out, but your sounds are muffled. Your legs start to quiver.

“Feels good doesn’t it, kitten? Look at you trembling.” He keeps digging at that spot relentlessly. “Gonna cum for us? Make a mess on my fingers.”

Your legs almost give out entirely as your body can take no more of this agonising pleasure, and you come hard all over Minho’s hand.

“Fuck, baby!” Jisung cries from the driver’s seat. “So fucking good for them.”

Hyunjin growls, finally fucking into your mouth. He is longer than Minho and you gag pathetically around him. “Drain me, beautiful. Ngh.” With a small whimper you feel ropes of cum hit your throat. There is so much, you’re not sure how you’re going to swallow everything. But you’re a good girl, so you make sure you don’t waste a drop.

Minho yanks your sweats back up and taps you affectionately on the ass.

“Baby, that was so hot. I’m so hard again, just from hearing all that.” Jisung hums approvingly from the front.

“You know, Ji? Next time you’ll have to let us fuck her while you watch.” Minho says.

“Yeah, you’ll probably cum untouched.” Adds Hyunjin.

You meet Jisung’s eyes in the rear view mirror and he winks at you slyly as he pulls up in your driveway.

A/n: always wear a seatbelt in a moving vehicle.

Also… I hope you enjoyed this little scenario. I seem to be accumulating car related sex and might make a masterlist dedicated to car rendezvous.

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @chansbabyg @kangnina @weareapackofstrays @xxkissesforchanniexx @enjaken @queen-in-the-shadows @bethanysnow @newhope8 @chuuchuu1224 @vanillacupcakefrosting @3rachasdomesticbanana @fun-fanfics @palindrome969 @wolfennracha @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist @strayywayy @yaorzu-blog @rixenluv @livzposts @jehhskz @aalexyuuuhm

#skz smut #han jisung smut #lee know smut #Hyunjin smut #Han Jisung x reader #lee Minho x reader #Hyunjin x reader

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blingblong55 · 7 days ago

Text

Belonging- John Price NSFW

Kinktober Day 16 Based on a request: I have a suggestion. It’s about price getting super possessive over his wife after his wife comes home, telling him that some guy was staring at her at work. And could you make it smut ---- F!reader, MDNI, 18+, smut, established!relationship, unprotected!sex, P-in-V, husband!Price, wife!reader, oral!sex ---- A/N: I want to apologise for not writing this earlier, so so so sorry lovie

John was sitting in the living room, enjoying a cigar and a glass of whiskey after a long day. The sound of the front door opening caught his attention, and he looked up to see you, his wife walking in.

He smiled at you, his light blue eyes crinkling at the corners. "Welcome home, love. How was your day?"

But as he took in your expression, he noticed something was off. Your brows were furrowed and your lips pressed into a thin line. He set down his drink and stood up, walking over to you.

"What's wrong, princess? You look troubled," he asked, his brow creasing with concern. He reached out to gently cup your sweet face, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone.

You sighed and leaned into his touch. "There was this guy at work… he kept staring at me. It made me uncomfortable, John."

At the mention of another man looking at his wife, Price felt a flash of jealousy ignite in his gut. His jaw clenched and his hands curled into fists at his sides. The thought of someone else's eyes roving over what belonged to him made his blood boil.

"Is that so?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. He pulled you flush against his chest, one hand splaying possessively over the small of your back while the other tangled in your hair. "And what exactly was this bloke looking at, hmm?"

He nipped at your earlobe, his hot breath ghosting over her skin. "Because if he was eyeing up my wife's tits or ass, I might just have to pay him a visit and teach him some manners…"

His hand slid lower, groping your rear as he ground his hardening cock against your hip. "No one looks at what's mine and gets away with it. I'll make sure he knows you're taken. That this body belongs to me."

He captured your mouth in a searing kiss, plundering and claiming.

Price deepened the kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to taste you. He walked you backwards until your back hit the wall, never breaking the passionate liplock. His hands roamed your curves, squeezing and kneading.

He nibbled and sucked at your bottom lip before trailing open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down the column of your throat. He licked and bit at the sensitive skin, marking you as his.

"Who does this body belong to, love?" he growled against your pulse point, his voice rough with desire. One hand slid under your shirt to palm your breast, thumbing the stiffening peak. "Say my name."

You gasped and arched into his touch, your fingers clutching at his shoulders. The sound went straight to his cock, making it twitch and strain against his trousers.

"You," you say in a moan, your cheeks flushed and eyes dark with need. "I'm yours, John. All yours."

A triumphant smirk curved his lips. He loved hearing you say those words, knowing you were his and his alone. No one else would ever touch you, taste you, claim you the way he did.

He yanked your shirt over your head and tossed it aside, baring your perfect tits to his hungry gaze. He latched onto a nipple, sucking hard as his hand continued to massage your other breast. He rolled and pinched the bud between his fingers, revelling in mewls of pleasure.

His other hand worked at the button of your jeans, popping it open and shoving the denim down your legs along with your pretty panties. You stepped out of them, now fully bare before him. He drank in the sight, his cock throbbing almost painfully.

"Fucking hell, you're gorgeous," he rasped, his eyes raking over your naked form. "I'm going to worship this body like the temple it is. Make you scream my name until you're hoarse." He sank to his knees before you, pushing your thighs apart. He buried his face between your legs, his tongue delving into your sweet slick heat.

He swirled his tongue around your clit, suckling the sensitive nub and flicking it rapidly. Two fingers pushed inside your tight cunt, pumping in and out as he feasted on your sweetness. He groaned at the taste of you, licking and slurping lewdly.

His other hand came up to play with your breasts, rolling and tugging at the stiff peaks. He pinched and pulled, sending jolts of pleasure- pain straight to your core. He could feel your walls fluttering around his fingers, your hips rocking against his face as you chased your release.

He curled his fingers just right, rubbing against that spongy spot inside you that made you see stars. He sucked your clit harder, determined to make you come undone. He wanted to feel you fall apart, to know he was the only one who could make you feel this good.

He fucked you with his fingers faster, his tongue lashing your clit mercilessly. His free hand slid down to fondle your ass, kneading the supple flesh. He spread your cheeks, exposing your tight rear hole to his greedy mouth.

He dragged the flat of his tongue over the puckered ring of muscle, rimming your ass as he continued to finger fuck your pussy. He pushed the tip inside, fucking you there too, stretching you open for his invading tongue.

He could feel you getting closer, your thighs starting to tremble and quake. He doubled his efforts, shoving a third finger inside your cunt and pumping hard and fast. He sucked your clit between his teeth, biting down just enough to sting. "Come for me, princess," he commanded, his voice muffled against your wet flesh. "Come all over my face like a good girl. Let me taste you."

He worked you relentlessly, his fingers and tongue driving you higher and higher until you were teetering on the edge. With a final sharp tug to your clit, he sent you flying over, your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave.

He lapped at you through it, drinking down your release like a man starved, his tongue delving deep to catch every last drop of your sweet nectar. He groaned at the taste, savouring it like a fine wine. His fingers gentled their movements, stroking softly as you rode out the waves of pleasure.

When you finally started to come down, he slowly withdrew his fingers from your fluttering heat. He brought them to his mouth, sucking your essence from them and humming in appreciation. "Delicious, as always," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. He stood, pulling you flush against him again and capturing your lips in a filthy kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

He broke away and scooped you into his arms, carrying you to your shared bedroom. He tossed you onto the bed and quickly stripped out of his clothes, revealing his battle-hardened body, all hard muscle and scarred skin. He crawled over you, caging you in with his bulk. He kissed you again, deeply and passionately, his cock nestling in the cradle of your hips. He grinds against you, the thick length sliding through your slick folds and bumping against your sensitive clit.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard, you won't remember your name," he promised darkly, his light blue eyes blazing with intensity. "Gonna fill this pussy up with my cock until you're dripping with my cum. Mark you inside and out as mine."

He reached down and gripped his shaft, giving it a few pumps. He rubbed the broad head through your entrance, coating himself in her arousal. Then with one powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt in your tight heat.

They both groaned at the sensation, their bodies joining as one. He held still for a moment, letting you adjust to the stretch. Then he started to move, setting a deep, hard rhythm that had the bed creaking and slamming into the wall. He pounded into you relentlessly, his hips snapping forward to drive his cock deeper and harder. His hands gripped your hips bruisingly, holding you in place as he used you.

He angled his hips to hit that sweet spot inside you with every thrust, making your toes curl and back arch. He loved seeing you come undone beneath him, lost to the pleasure only he could give you. He leaned down to capture a nipple between his teeth, biting and sucking at the sensitive bud. His other hand reached between your sweat-slicked bodies to rub tight circles over your clit, pushing you closer to the edge.

"That's it, baby," he panted, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his release. "Come on my cock like a good girl. Milk me dry."

He could feel you getting close again, your walls starting to flutter and clench around him. He doubled his efforts, fucking into you harder and faster, his fingers working your clit with single-minded focus.

With a keening cry, you fell apart, your pussy spasming wildly around his pistoning cock. The rippling heat was too much for him to bear, and with a guttural groan, he followed you over the edge, spilling his seed deep inside you.

He collapsed on top of you, his forehead resting against yours as you both struggled to catch your breath. He peppered kisses across your face, murmuring praise in your ear. "Fuck, you're incredible," he breathed, his voice raw with emotion. "I love you so bloody much, Y/N. You're mine, all mine. And I'll kill any bastard who tries to take you from me." He pulled out of you with a hiss, his softening cock slipping free to let a trickle of his release escape from your well-used hole. He gathered it on his fingers and brought them to your lips, painting them with his essence.

"Taste us," he commanded softly, his eyes dark with renewed lust. "Taste how good we are together. How much I need you." He kissed you again, slow and deep, pouring all his love and devotion into the embrace. When he finally pulled back, he smiled at you tenderly.

He continued, his fingers still idly playing with your hair. "I just can't stand the thought of anyone else looking at you the way I do. Touching you the way I do. You're the only one for me, Y/N. The only one I want."

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, then pulled back slightly to look into your eyes. "I know I can be a bit… intense sometimes. Possessive. But it's only because I love you so goddamn much. You're my whole world, princess."

He smiled softly, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone. "I promise I'll try to rein it in a bit. Won't let my jealous side get the better of me. As long as you keep reminding me that you're mine and only mine, I think I'll be alright." He chuckled, the sound low and warm. "Though I might still have to intimidate any bloke who dares to even glance in your direction. Can't have them getting any ideas, now can I?"

He sighed, pulling you closer and resting his chin on top of your head. "I'm a lucky bastard, you know that? To have you as my wife, my partner, my best friend. I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I thank my lucky stars every day that you're mine."

He nuzzled into your neck, placing a soft kiss on your pulse point. "I love you, Y/N. More than anything in this world. And I'll spend every day of our lives proving it to you, in every way I know how. Starting with round two…" He grinned wickedly, his hands already starting to roam your body again, ready to show you once more just how much he adored you.

Tags: @aidey860 @liyanahelena @ghostslillady @juneonhoth @Simonssweetgirl @nellsbobells @coralwitchdreamland @nobodys-coffee @sae1kie @anonymuslydumb @goldenmclaren @moonsua1 @frazie99 @saoirse06 @alxexhearts @baldwinhearts @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @strangepuppynightmare @enarien @luvecarson @ikohniik @strawberrychita @queen-ilmaree @Llelannie @Macnches2 @bbyfimmie @avidreadee123 @talooolaaloolla @skelletonwitch @bittermajesties @1234beeandpuppycat @sparky–bunny @honestlyhiswife @who-can-appease-me @ghostwifeyy @konigssultwithghost @pinkblossomsworld @kaoyamamegami @the_royal_bee @beansproutmafia @soapybutt17 @a-goose-with-a-knife @foxface013 @born4biriyani @thegreyjoyed @mychemichalimalance @marshiely @iruzias @sleepyycatt @noodlezz-bedo @trinthealternate @vampsquerade @azkza @VampyTheGoth

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a-small-writer-in-a-big-world · 10 months ago

Text

Epilogue

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x f!reader

Warnings: tiny bit of angst, mentions of past trauma, fluff, smut mdni (18+), unprotected p in v, fingering, praising, dad jokes

Words:

Synopsis: Years later, you and Simon are still together but as more than roommates….

You are currently reading the last part to The Roommate Series

Few years later…

You were bored.

So bored that you were worried you might start nodding off, like a few of the others who sat in the seats next to you. You should’ve been more excited about the fact that you were finally graduating, but it was difficult to feel anything other than the slight need of sleep when one of the professors conducting the speech wouldn’t stop talking.

How long had he been talking for? You’re zoned out a while ago, wishing you could pull out your phone to scroll through social media or check your messages just to pass the time until he was finally done. Instead, you had to sit there and listen to him ramble about something until it was time for you to walk.

You’d much rather be checking your messages now that you thought about it. Simon was supposed to text you this morning before you went to the ceremony since he was still on a mission, but you had gotten nothing the last time you checked.

Your feelings were a little hurt, but it worried you more than anything. If he couldn’t text you he was working and that meant it was possible he could be hurt-

You let out a deep breath, letting the thought drift away before it started to fester.

Simon was fine. He spoke to you last night so he was probably just busy. You could text him when the ceremony was over, maybe even call him if he had enough time to spare. It would be nice to hear him and tell him all about the time you wasted listening to the professor who was one strong breeze from turning into dust.

You perked up when the professor stepped down and clapped a little more enthusiastically than you meant to. You watched as another professor came up to the podium and announced with the same kind of excitement that it was time to hand out diplomas.

You watched the first row of grads walk towards the podium to be announced. As they walked across the stage you couldn’t help but feel a little bittersweet about the situation.

Simon had planned to be here to celebrate with you. You both had come up with a plan to go out to eat at a fancy restaurant and maybe get a couple drinks after everything was over.

He had been excited about it, not only because he got to spend time with you but he was happy that you were graduating. He was taking it seriously, making reservations and finding the best outfit to go with yours, making sure everything was planned how you wanted it…

And then duty called.

You were upset, not knowing whether or not he’d be back in time, but eventually you came to terms with it. Judging by the texts Simon had sent you since then, he hadn’t come to terms with it, declaring that he would be there no matter what, even when you assured him it was okay.

You determined from his silence that he was still there.

It hurt but that was the price to pay. Sometimes he’d miss out on important stuff with you because of work, that was life when you loved someone in his profession, but it made it all worth it because it was Simon.

He had left just two months ago and you assumed he wouldn’t be back for a few more.

Your row got up and you walked towards the stage. It almost didn’t feel real that you were graduating, that after all the hardships you had with your classes that it was finally over and that you were more prepared for life than before.

You could at least share it with Simon when he got back.

Your name was announced and as you stepped up to get your diploma you heard loud cheering which made you jump. You and everyone looked around for the source, everyone else clapped and gave maybe small whoops, but this was cheering you’d hear at a football game.

Tears welled up in your eyes and a grin stretched across your face when you saw them.

All of them, Simon, Price, John and Kyle were in the crowd. Simon held a bouquet of flowers and waved to you as if you couldn’t pick him out within the crowd of families who were mostly quiet.

But that didn’t stop you from waving back to him, showing him your diploma with a chest full of pride that made you beam brightly at him. You felt even happier when he raised his fist, cheering louder for you.

It took everything in you to not run over to him. You still had to go through the ceremony and weren’t sure if the professors would be too happy if you ran out before it was over. That didn’t stop you from constantly peeking over your shoulder at him with anticipation, just waiting for the moment that you were allowed to go.

When it was over, you practically sprinted to them. You barely gave Simon enough to make sure you didn’t crush the flowers before you threw yourself on top of him, holding onto him with a tight grip as you blinked back tears.

Simon held you back just as tight. He let out a heavy sigh of relief and he nearly melted into your arms. He chuckled lowly and gave you a quick squeeze before you slipped out of his grasp to look at him.

“You’re here!” You pulled back and drank him in.

He was wearing a mask to cover the lower half of his face but you didn’t catch any bruises or scrapes anywhere on the uncovered spots of his face. He stood perfectly fine like the rest of them and watched you with soft eyes so full of love that your smile grew bigger when he leaned closer to you.

He was alive and well, and now he was back here with you.

“Wouldn’t have missed it for anything.” Simon said softly while he offered you the flowers and your heart swelled as you took them.

You let out a soft thank, so overwhelmed with emotions you weren’t sure how to process or handle them. All you could do was hold the flowers, try not to tear up and stare at Simon with every ounce of pure love you had within you. You had half the mind to pull him down for a kiss or to not let go of him, but you had to tell yourself that you were in public.

You settled on holding his hand which he seemed to gratefully take because you held onto it with a firm grip.

It could wait until you both got back to your shared apartment.

“We should celebrate.” Price spoke up and you nodded. “I’ll pay.”

Kyle and John cheered while you laughed. You tried to tell him he didn’t have to but he wasn’t hearing it, quickly dismissing any of your worries that it would be too much or that he didn’t have to since there was no reason for it.

When you looked at Simon for help he only shrugged before he leaned in close to your ear.

“I’ll pay for us.”

“That’s not any better!”

He chuckled and squeezed your hand. His eyes twinkled when you gave him an exasperated look before he pressed a quick kiss to your temple through the mask. He pulled you close and kept your hand in his while you all walked to the parking lot where you’d decide to go to dinner.

You spent the entirety of dinner catching up, but mostly just staring at Simon who seemed to stare back at you just as much.

It hadn’t been long, not nearly as long as the many other times he had left for work, yet it was just the same as always. Every moment with him gone hurt but once he got back you felt so much better knowing that not only was he alive but that he had come back. It made every second worth it.

You could tell that he was feeling the same. His hand barely left yours and when it did he rested it on your thigh, his eyes never once losing their look of pride when he looked over at you. He seemed to have fallen head over heels for you again and you sure he would tell you just that if you said something.

You’d be lying if you said that you also hadn’t fallen in love with him again.

You did it every day.

You all parted ways after dinner, but not without the promise of drinks sometime later in the week and possibly other times where you all got to hang out.

“How do you feel?” Simon wondered as the two of you walked to your car.

“It honestly hasn’t set in yet.” You told him truthfully. You hadn’t really accepted that you had graduated and didn’t need to go to classes anymore. You were back to the way things were before you enrolled in the university, older and a little more wise, but not much different. At least you knew how to transition into a full time job. “I don’t feel any different.”

“Good or bad?”

You glanced at him, noticing the slight worry in his eyes. You gave him a small smile however and leaned your head against his shoulder.

“Good.”

Simon helped you in the car and playfully took the keys from you. On the drive back to the apartment, he kept his hand on your knee and you kept your hand on top of his.

“You know,” You caught his attention as you gave him a knowing look. “My job doesn’t start for another couple weeks or so.”

“Yeah?” He mumbled and squeezed your leg.

You hummed and a smug smile pulled at your lips. You slid his hand a little further up your leg and watched as his grip tightened on the wheel. You had to suppress a laugh when he let out a short huff, knowing full well what you were doing.

“Yeah…and I don’t have anything planned. Which means I’m all yours.”

Simon grunted and you bit your lip. Anyone else would’ve thought he was being dismissive, but you knew him too well. You could see the light blush on the tips of his ears and judging by the way he shifted in his seat you knew he was starting to get hard.

If he wasn’t flustered you were sure he’d lightly scold you for making him that way.

The drive back to the apartment was quicker than normal and the two of you rushed to get inside.

Your new apartment was smaller than the last but no less homey. You and Simon could be found everywhere and in every corner, the place completely lived in and inviting. There was only one bedroom and the bathroom was too small for both of you to be in there at the same time but it was home.

The door didn’t even close behind the two of you before Simon had his hands on your hips. He ripped the mask off and kissed you tenderly, capturing your lips in his as he pulled you into his chest. He didn’t give you a chance to breathe while his hands roamed your body, feeling you as if he were mapping out your body for the first time.

You kissed him back just as fervently, clutching onto him and letting out soft moans that made him kiss you harder. You barely had enough time to set the flowers down without harming them before he was peeling your outfit off you.

He left hot kisses across your neck down to your chest, kissing the dog tags he gave you. You let out a gasp when he sucked a mark on your breast before he very gently pushed you down on the couch. He hovered above you, pinning you down onto the cushions and let you tug him forward into another kiss.

“Been too long. I missed you.” He breathed into your mouth desperately and you hummed.

“I missed you too.” You gasped again when he pushed his finger past your wet folds.

Simon swallowed your moans as he rubbed circles into your clit. The rough pads of his fingertips were almost too much after not being touched by him for weeks but the electric waves of pleasure that ran through you stopped any chance for you to protest, as if you would anyway.

His other hand held your face and he kissed you tenderly. He continued to steal the air out of your lungs, making you feel like you were floaty. When he began to pump two fingers inside, you let out a loud whine.

“I thought about you everyday.” He kissed underneath your jaw and curled his fingers, brushing them against the spot that had your entire body twitching. “Thought about what I’d do when I saw you again, how proud I’d be.”

“Simon!” You moaned when he began to play with your clit again.

His fingers moved in and out of you quickly while he kept a steady pace on your sensitive bud.

You held onto his arms as you felt yourself clench around his fingers, the band in your stomach pulling tighter while your toes curled. It was impossible for you to breathe while whimpers and moans escaped your lips, small pleas for him to keep going falling off your tongue.

The band snapped unexpectedly and your eyes fluttered shut while you clenched around his fingers. You whimpered as he kept going, unable to catch your breath while he kissed your neck.

“Need you.” You whined while you still twitched from your orgasm.

“M’right here, love.” He said breathlessly as he pulled his fingers out of you.

Simon wasted no time unbuckling his jeans, pushing them down far enough to let his cock out. He pumped it a few times, the red and dripping precume before he lined it up with your wet cunt.

You gasped and moaned when he slowly pushed in. The stretch of taking his length always made you clench and flutter around him, the slight pain eventually melting into pleasure enough for you to come on his cock before he even got it in fully.

He moaned from feeling you and his eyes going heavy as he watched him stretch you out. He went slow, just like he always did, and played with your clit to make you whine just a little more.

Before long he was fully seated inside you but didn’t move.

You could barely breathe as you adjusted to his size, never fully able to, while he kept his thumb on your clit. You whimpered and placed a hand on his chest, noticing that he came home without a scratch and dug your nails into his flesh.

“Simon…” You begged softly, wiggling your hips to get him to move.

“Wanna make you feel good, love.” He said but grabbed your wrist and began to thrust.

You cried out when the head of his cock nudged the spot inside you that had you seeing stars. You keened and arched your back into him as he rolled his hips against yours to keep a steady rhythm.

Every thrust made your eyes heavy and he added pressure to your clit. He deepened his thrusts and you moaned his name loudly which only fueled the fire in his stomach.

You could feel yourself getting close again, already unable to keep away from the edge as he nearly bruised your cervix. You pulled him down and kissed him hard, holding his hand as you clenched around him again.

He sped up ever so slightly and you couldn’t breathe.

Your entire body tingling and you couldn’t speak. You rested your legs on his hips and he thrust into you until your eyes rolled back and your entire body shook. You could barely hear him moan as you fluttered around his cock before he began to thrust sloppily.

“My pretty girl.” He said proudly into your mouth. “My smart girl, ‘m so proud of you.”

Simon grabbed the back of your knees and pushed your legs towards your chest. He groaned and you writhed underneath him, the pleasure too much as you still rode the waves of your second orgasm.

You came again unexpectedly and he cummed inside of you with a strained moan. You whimpered as you felt his cock twitch inside you, filling you up and spreading warmth across your lower abdomen.

He thrust inside you a few more times before he nearly collapsed on top of you. He rested his head against your forehead and you wrapped your arms around his neck, keeping him close to you.

The two of you laid there to catch your breath, leaving small kisses across each other’s skin while you played with the hair on his neck that had gotten a tad longer than when he left.

When he pulled away you beamed up at him and got a smile in return. The hormones were slowly slipping away but that didn’t stop the elation in your heart as you stared up at him as if this was the first time you were seeing him today.

“Welcome home.” You traced his nose and he kissed your hand. “I’ll make you breakfast tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I have to keep up with the tradition!”

He scoffed but conceded and rested his forehead on yours, pulling you into an embrace that you gratefully accepted.

You spent the rest of the evening catching up and sharing soft touches, slowly riling each other up a couple more times before it was time to go to bed. While he took a shower, after you since he insisted, you went through your nightly routine of making sure the apartment was secured.

It was a habit you formed not long after moving here, one both you and Simon kept up because of what happened. You went first, going around to all of the windows to make sure they were locked and closed, shutting the curtains to them, before you checked the lock on the door, always doubling locking it. Then Simon would check after you, not because he didn’t have faith in you, but for his own sake.

Just as you were about to shut off the TV, the news caught your attention.

“International threat and now former commander of the Konni Group Vladamir Makarov has been reported killed today. The Ultranationalist was responsible for multiple terrorist attacks across multiple countries and now his body is being recovered by the US government…”

You watched the news put up a picture of the man. You remembered well of the few attacks that had taken place far from you but that caused an uproar on the international scale two months ago. You remembered the sinking feeling in your stomach, knowing in the back of your mind that Ghost had been there risking his life again to catch him.

You thought about how he might be dead, how he might’ve gotten injured. How many close calls he had and if he ever thought that he wouldn’t be able to see you again.

Now he was dead…

“Love.” Simon caught your attention and you looked over at him.

He had a serious look on his face as he glanced at the TV for a moment. An almost silent conversation occurred between the two of you when he looked back at you, his dark eyes saying enough about the situation, before he gestured towards the bedroom.

“Let’s go to bed.”

You turned the TV off and walked towards him, bringing him into a short embrace where you placed a quick peck on his cheek.

“I’m glad you’re home.��

You’re not sure what time it was when your eyes snapped open. It was still dark out and the silence outside told you it had to be in the middle of the night. It took you a moment to come to your senses, your heart racing just a little faster as you came down from the nightmare you just had, to realize that you were in your shared bedroom.

You took a deep breath and that was when you noticed the comforting circles being drawn on your arm.

You turned over and met Simon’s eyes in the darkness. You weren’t sure if you had woken him up with your nightmare or if he had one of his own, but neither of you said anything.

You rolled over and he immediately opened his arms to you. Before long you were cuddled into his side, your head on top of his chest while he wrapped a protective arm around you, starting his ministrations again once you were settled.

The two of you laid in silence for a while. You drank up each other’s presence in the stillness, slowly waiting for the tense feelings to dissipate into peacefulness before either of you decided to go back to sleep.

Your eyes were on the door, on the heavy laundry basket you put in front of it to keep anyone from coming in.

The fear of the man coming back was mostly gone, he had been dealt with a long time ago, but it didn’t feel right to keep the door unblocked. You were grateful that Simon let you do it even though there were some nights when you didn’t need it at all.

You shut your eyes and listened to his steady heart beat, feeling you slowly rise up and down from his breathing.

“What do you call a fish wearing a bowtie?”

“...What?”

“Sofishticated.”

You giggled, hiding your face in his chest as he let out a chuckle. He hugged you closer and you felt him press a soft kiss to your temple on the spot where your scar was.

When your giggling fit was over you looked up at him.

“Did you memorize the book again?” You mumbled, not wanting to break the silence.

“Yes.” He mumbled back with a small smile. “You gave me a new one, had to.”

You shook your head with disbelief, a smile spread across your face as you snuggled closer into him, pressing a kiss to his chest as you did so. Your hand found the scar on his torso and you ran your fingers across it, causing him to tense up underneath your touch.

Another scar added to the others. More pain he had gone through and yet he was still here.

Simon traced the scar on your temple with his thumb and you wondered if he thought the same thing. If he thought about the pain that you now carried but that you were still here.

The pain would only lessen, it would never go away but that didn’t scare you. So much had changed in such a short amount of time, and you knew things would continue to change, but the one constant was that he was always by your side and you were always by his.

Suddenly the tension was gone.

“We’re still alive.” You thought out loud after another moment of silence.

“Yeah.” He breathed out. “We are.”

You sat up and he did as well.

You took his face into your hands, holding him gently as you caressed his cheek with your thumb, touching the scar close to his eye as you stared into him with a hopeless amount of love that seemed to consume your entire being.

He placed his hands on your hips and stared at you with soft eyes full of the same deep all consuming love that you felt.

“I love you.” He said barely above a whisper.

“I love you too.” You replied back just as softly.

In the darkness you kissed. It was slow and gentle, warm and comforting. All of the fear you had poured out and turned into nothing as you held each other. There was nothing there but the two of you, no threats and no one to bother you as you laid in the sanctuary of each other's arms.

Like every night you two went to sleep knowing that the other would be there, ready to start a new day.

The End

link to masterlist

A/n: don’t worry, their story isn’t over yet but we’ll let them rest for now ❤️ (i hope this wasn't too disappointing of an ending I tried to make it emotional and i got emotional writing but idk if that translated well anyway hope you guys liked it first time finishing a series like this haha)

tags: @kat-nee @alexwashere82 @suicidal-marshmellow @shuttlelauncher81 @poohkie90 @reiya-djarin @k4marina @mionacaped @igotmajordaddyissues @xxghostyx @pasta-m1lk @imstargazingx @jacksonpleasestopkillingme @kgive @konig-is-bbygrl @lialacleaf @frazie99 @gremlin-ghuleh @spencerreidisbae123 @writingmysanity @lillianastuff @alastorhazbin @reid490 @lockleywife @sheepselecric @dead-noodles @marshmallowtraver @sinclairbrosbathmat @sofasoap @crazyfandomist @iwmtfm @oiiviagrande @genesis1363 @revyjerry @guttabutta00 @greenkiki @d4z01 @quietlyignoringyou @mysticalgalaxysalad @almightywdm @mavieemav @lycheedr3ams @multitargaryen @fruitymoonbeams-blog @lilpothoscuttings @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @adriennepoison

#the roommate series #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley #call of duty #mw2 ghost #ghost mw2 #the end #thank you

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livelaughlovesubs · 3 months ago

Note

hello! I hope you write for Neuvillette! For the event, could I ask for fitting him with a collar and presenting him as a trophy? Thank you sm! <3

also please don’t stress yourself nini! Drink water, get proper rest, and make sure to take breaks! 🫶

(P.S, can I be 🍡 anon? If not that’s okay! ^v^)

Heee! Welcome 🍡 anon! Ofc our neuvi is okay :] and I looove the trophy prompt for some reason

Dom!reader x sub!neuvi - reader is gn

Warning: public humiliation, hair pulling, objectification, collaring

Anniversary event

A celebration in name of the new ruler of fontain has been organised. For the people to acknowledge him, to respect and worship him, and for him to come out as the one on top. It was a very important event, one that could be compared to the coronation of a new king. That’s why there’s a ball at the break of dawn, to showcase the authority of the chef justice - at least, that’s what was meant to happen.

The moment he entered the gigantic room - filled with people in fancy clothing chatting to their hearts content - every whisper disappeared, complete silence broke out under the sheer anticipation of meeting him. Many of them even held their breath, focusing on the only thing breaking the silence, the sound of footsteps. All eyes were on him, and on you, his escort. The music even stopped as the musicians couldn’t help but gawk. Though soon the smiles changed into shocked gasps, before quiet mumbling filled the atmosphere of the halls again.

You walked in front of Neuvillette, confidently, a big pleasant smile on your face. You had to show the world your chocolate side after all. Neuvi followed close behind, eyes as sharp as ever, not paying much attention to anyone other than you. His cold demeanour wasn’t anything new, but- he was wearing a collar.

Some were frowning at the sight, while others were still in pure disbelief. Your smile didn’t falter at their reaction, in contrary, you turned around and gestured with your hand for him to come closer. And so he did, obeying your command all obediently. Then you yanked on the very collar all the other guests were staring at, making him bend a little before you whispered, “they are all staring at you, feeling exited yet?”

Your little hydro dragon didn’t answer, he didn’t show much of a reaction other than the rosy blush that has begun tainting his cheeks. You sneered, a satisfied and proud look as you let go of him. A waiter came moments later, carrying a tray full with glasses of champagne. You took a glass out of curtesy, and sipped on it, then handed it to your sweet boytoy. He took it without questioning it.

It didn’t take long until the shock of the people died down, and the bolder ones dared to get closer, in hopes of building a relationship with the new ruler of fontain. A man approached you, trying to strike a conversation, “what a grandiose ball this is, fontain will be thriving in the future, all thanks to the chief justice.” The man in front of you said, smiling, a calculated expression. You recognised him, he was one of the rather big merchants.

“Indeed, I would expect no less from my most priced possession.” You chuckled as you cupped Neuvillette’s face with one hand, not breaking eye contact with the merchant. “You are proud to belong to me, ain’t I right, neuvi?” He didn’t answer you with words, instead, he nuzzled his face into your palm, finding comfort in the heat radiating through your glove. The merchant laughed uncomfortable, his facade failing him as he tried to not stare.

Then, to everyone’s surprise, you grabbed him by his hair and made him kneel down. He didn’t resist one bit, allowing you to manhandle him, shuddering at this humiliating act. “Neuvillette. When I ask you a question, what must you do?” Your voice became rougher, more demanding, and he gazed up at you from his sitting position. “…use my voice. Forgive me, I’ll do better next time.” The male said, almost whining, the blush darkened and he clenched the glass in his hands.

At this point, needless to say you were the center of attention. You, who can treat their new ‘archon’ like an object.

How scandalous it was… seeing him acting this shameless in public. The whispers only got louder, yet the two of you didn’t seem to care. As if both of you were in your own world. “Good boy.” Your gaze softened, now cupping his face with one hand, the other one caressing the dark blue collar around him. A prideful yet scary grin as you made a statement, “There’s a reason you are my prettiest trophy.”

#sub character #sub!character #dom reader #dom!reader #sub genshin impact #sub genshin #sub neuvillette #neuvillette #neuvilette genshin #neuvillete x reader #neuvilette smut #neuvillette genshin #neuvillette gi #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x you #neuvillette x y/n #neuvillete smut #anniversary event #🍡 anon

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hisnumber1 · 10 months ago

Text

Devil's Embrace

Paring: Lucifer Morningstar x reader

Summery: (Y/n) had found herself at the hazbin hotel. She never thought of redemption but she got a free room while she does her work. (Y/n) made outfits and tailored for people if they pay enough. She loves trying to make unique dresses for balls or for higher class. Keeping her name in the high class of hell, she tailored for the king of hell himself. Finding herself tailoring for him in the hotel of his daughter is an interesting situation.

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Genre: fluff, slowburn, close proximity.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

I find myself leaning back in my seat, sighing. Watching AngleDust flirt with Husker and he growls in response. Charlie is putting more stuff on her board as she tries to figure out how to make the hotel work. I jump back on feet, strolling down the hallway ways to get to my room. I walk into my room filled with drawing and projects I've worked on. I fall flat on my face into my bed, I turn my head, looking at my recent project of a dress.

The dress was a long ballroom dress, with a long v going down the chest. The sleeves were mesh, and at the top it came off the shoulder. The skirt came out and poofed out, with the back covered in a long black mesh. The dress was white, with highlights of red, all of the mesh was black, giving it a dark energy.

Something just seems off, I don't know what it is but it just does. I hear a ping come from across the room. Lifting up my head and seeing my phone light up, I groan as I pull myself up. Walking to my table, I grab my phone and sit on the table. I read the notification, it was an email. I tapped on it, scanning over the text.

"Dear Ms. (L/n),

I hope this email finds you well. I recently purchased a suit, while I am pleased with the quality and style, I find that it is slightly larger than my measurements. Therefore, I am writing to inquire about the possibility of having it tailored to a smaller size.

The suit in question is a white Shawl Lapel with red highlights, the fabrics are jacquard and velvet, and I purchased it about a week ago. I have attached a copy of the receipt for your reference.

I would greatly appreciate it if you could provide me with information on the process and cost involved in resizing the suit. Additionally, if you require any further measurements or details, please do not hesitate to let me know.

I am eager to have the suit adjusted so that it fits perfectly, and I trust your expertise in handling this matter. I am available to schedule an appointment at your earliest convenience.

Thank you for your attention to this request. I look forward to hearing from you soon.

Warm regards,

Lucifer Morningstar"

I sigh as I look at the photos he sent. It is a beautiful suit, but if I did it, the style would be better, but it is not mine. Thinking of what the price is, I need to get his exact measurements to tailor it correctly. Pressing the reply button, I started typing out my reply.

'Dear Mr. Morningstar,

Thank you for reaching out and for providing the details regarding your suit purchase. I appreciate your trust in our tailoring services.

I will be more than happy to assist you with resizing your suit to ensure a perfect fit. Before proceeding, could you please bring the suit to my studio for a fitting session? This will allow me to accurately assess the alterations needed and provide you with a precise cost estimate.

Once I have examined the suit, we will discuss the adjustments required and provide you with a timeline for completion.

Please let us know a convenient time for you to visit our store, and we will schedule an appointment accordingly. Feel free to contact us if you have any further questions or concerns.

Looking forward to seeing you soon and assisting you with your tailoring needs.

Best regards,

(Y/n) (L/n)'

I read over the email before hitting send. 'Wait, isn't Charlie his daughter?' I thought as I look back over his name. I press another reply button and put the the address, letting him know where he could meet me. Tossing my phone onto my bed, I walk out into the lobby again, sitting on the bar stool. "A shot of anything strong." I grumbled at Husk, he was cleaning a glass when he heard me. "What's the occasion?" He asked grabbing a shot glass before pouring some. "Work." I groan with my head on the bar, keeping my eyes shut, my headache gets worse with light.

"Ever thought of getting anything for those migraines?" Husk asked when he placed down the shot, I look up, grabbing the shot and downing it. "Another please. I've looked into it, but I don't need to, I'll just deal with it." Sighing as I push the shot towards Husk. He shakes his head as he pours another one, pushing it towards me. Taking the glass and downing it again.

I hear Charlie in the lobby talking to Vaggie about something, I turn to her. "Hey Charlie. Your dad is gonna come in a few days." I slur out, catching her attention she turned me wide eyed. "What?" She asked as she walked closer. "I'm tailoring a suit of his, I told him I need to take measurements cause he could have grown in the last year." I replied to her. "So he's coming to the hotel?" "Yeah, I think so." Replying to her she chuckled a but before pacing back and forth. "He's only gonna be in my room, just to get measured. He's one my highest paying customers." I chuckle, feeling the alcohol get to my system.

"He emailed me a few minutes ago about getting a suit tailored. I told him that I needed for take his measurements and then I would come up with the price." I explain to her. Charlie's pacing got faster, but she's stops when Vaggie puts her hand on her shoulder. "When would he be here?" Vaggie asked me and I shrugged.

"I can go see if he answered if you would like?" I got up from my seat, walking to my room. Opening my door, I walk to my bed, grabbing my phone. I look at the notifications, seeing a email. I walk out to the lobby, opening the email.

"Dear Ms. (L/n),

Thank you for your prompt response and for offering to assist with resizing my suit. I appreciate your attention to detail and professionalism in addressing my tailoring needs.

I will certainly bring the suit to your studio for a fitting session. I propose scheduling the appointment for this Friday afternoon around 2:00 PM. Please let me know if this time works for you, or if an alternative time would be more convenient.

I look forward to meeting with you and discussing the necessary alterations. Thank you once again for your assistance, and I am confident in your expertise to ensure a perfect fit for my suit.

Best regards,

Mr. Morningstar"

I read out loud. Charlie pauses and starts pacing again. "He can't come. We don't even know if this works. If he comes he'll know I failed." Charlie said lowly, Vaggie hugs her and kisses her cheek. "It'll be fine love." She said as she pulled away from the hug. Vaggie looked over at me and sighed. "He'll be here in two days, just make sure he is only here for that a not going anywhere else. Charlie isn't ready to face him at the moment." She said as she looked up at the clock to check the time.

I nod, I grab the shot glass and down the last one before walking to my room. Falling onto my bed, a breath left my lungs as I hit the bed. I turn over and pick up my phone, unlocking it and looking at the photo of the suit. Thinking for a second, it looks a lot like the dress. Looking between my phone and the dress on the lay figure, they would look together.

Standing up from my bed, I tiptoe to the sewing mannequin. I run my finger across it, looking back at the photo and then back at the dress. A light bulb lit up and I ran to my desk, grabbing safety pins. Taking out my sewing needles, turning on my machine, grabbing buttons. I pull the mannequin next to the desk, sketching out the idea in my head.

A bang woke me from my slumber, I jerk up and look around. Standing in my door way is AngleDust, he looks out of breath. "(Y/n)! My shirt is ruined!" He said as he walked closer with his torn shirt. I groan and put my head back on the desk. "You alright toots?" He asks as he puts his arm on my shoulder. "I'm fine, I finally figured out what was wrong with the dress, and I fixed it. There is a problem though, Lucifer is gonna be here tomorrow and he's kinda matching with his suit." A groan left my mouth, Angle walks over to dress. "It's gorgeous. I mean it's always been." He said as he looked over it.

Sighing as I felt my eyes closing. I stayed up all night working on it, adding new fabrics, adding the details. I felt myself falling asleep again as Angle looked over the dress.

My eyes slowly open, I groan as I sit up. "My back hurts like hell." Groaning as I stood up. It looked dark out, I must have slept all day. Walking out of my room into the lobby, the lights were still on so someone was awake. Yawning as I walk to the bar, my eyes saw Alastor, he was sitting on the couch as he read a newspaper. "Morning Al." I yawn as I pour myself something to drink.

His head perked up at my voice. "Morning, you know it's in the late afternoon right?" He asked as he placed his newspaper down.

"Yeah, I didn't sleep last night. So I slept all day." Yawning as I walk over to the couch, sitting next to Alastor. "Why didn't you sleep?" He asked as he sipped his drink. "Working on that dress." I groan. He hummed in response. I downed the rest of my drink before standing up. "Well Lucifer is coming over tomorrow, so I need to sleep. Night Al." "Oh goodnight (Y/n)." He grinned.

I step into my room, closing the door behind me. Sighing as I walk over to my bed, sitting on the edge before falling backwards. Grunting at the sudden stop, I throw my arm over my eyes, slowly drifting off to sleep.

Waking up to my alarm, I groan. I slowly sit up and turn off my phone. I whimper as the sun hits my eyes, I have to get ready and clean up for the appointment. I pick up my phone reading the time, but I saw that I had a email.

'Dear Ms. (Y/n),

Hello, I hope this email finds you in good health. I wanted to make an appointment to have a meeting. I want some new clothes by your hand. If you have the time for a meeting please contact me.

Love,

Valentino <3'

I read over the email before putting my phone down. I really don't want to deal with him right now, I sighed as I went to my drawers. Pulling out some presentable clothes, then walking to my restroom to take a shower. I turn the knob letting the water start, after I pull my clothes off of me, letting it hit the floor. Pulling my undergarments off before sliding into the shower. The hot water hitting my skin and wetting every inch of my body.

I put shampoo in my hair and scrub it in, soap going down my body as I rinse my hair out. Grabbing the bottle for conditioner, letting my hair run under water. Pouring some into my hand before scrubbing it into my scalp. I let the conditioner soak, I wash my body before rinsing off everything. Turning off the water, I grab a towel and put it around my body.

Walking into my room, striding to my bed, where I put my clothes. Taking the towel and drying off my hair before dressing myself. After wards I look at the time, it read 12:47 pm. I sigh, I still have almost two hours before he gets here. I look around the room, seeing my room is a mess, knowing us have to clean it sooner or later.

Cleaning up my room, putting everything in place before he gets here and picking up trash and dirty laundry. I organized everything and I looked at the time, it was 1:36 pm. My eyes widen as I look at the time. "Shit he'll be here soon!" I yelled at myself and I got a new mannequin out for the suit, making sure I knew where everything I needs was. Keeping track of time, I brushed my hair and put on light makeup, so I didn't look like I was dying.

Getting myself mentally prepared to see the sin of pride. He was cocky everytime you saw him, not a bad cocky but like 'he knows he's hot and he's not afraid to show it off' cocky. The man was hot, I can't denie that.

I walk to the lobby waiting for the knock, not a second later I hear it. Walking to the door, slowly opening it to reveal Lucifer. "(Y/n), it's been to long." He grinned as walked in to the hotel, his eyes shifted all over the lobby. "We will be working in a room back here, just follow me." I say as I lead the way to my room. He gladly follows along behind me, still looking everywhere. We make it to my room and I close the door after he walks in.

"Now if you would please stand here." I ask him to stand on a X mark on the floor. He looked down and nods with a smile. "So how have you been (Y/n)? I haven't seen you in about a year." He asked as he gave me the suit. "Eh, tired. I have been working on a new dress over that year, I finally finished it the day before yesterday." I reply, setting the suit on the mannequin.

"Yeah? May I see it?" He asked as he looked around my room. I nodded and I walked into my other room, I have to rooms attached to each other for my bed room and my studio. Rolling the mannequin out, the jewels sparkled in the sun light.

"That is gorgeous." Lucifer said as he walked over, feeling the fabric. "It looks a little familiar." He said as he put his hand on his chin. His eyes caught on the suit and he gasped. "It's like a set! The dress and my suit." Lucifer stated as his eyes light up. I chuckled and nodded. "I noticed that when you sent me the photos."

"I would love to buy it." He said as he looked at it. I stopped in my tracks. "What?" I asked with a chuckle. "How much, I could gift it to my daughter." He stated as he started pulling out his wallet. "I'm not selling it right now. I actually made it for myself, kinda a dream dress." I chuckled nervously.

You could practly hear his face light up. "I've never seen you wear a dress." He said surprised. "Well yeah, I don't like wearing them." "You should put it on." He said. "No." I said flatly.

"Oh come on (Y/n). You even match with the king if hell, why not put it on?" He asked. "Lucifer, I need to start measurements, please stand where you were." I said with no tone. He was a persistent man. "Come on, I would love to see you in it." He purred out. "Lucifer arms up." I said with a measuring tape in my hands. "Come on." He whined out.

As he is begging me to put on the dress, I just ignore him and measure his body. As I measuring his bust to his groan there was blast and the hotel shaked. Causing Lucifer to tumble over and fall on me.

I closed my eyes at feeling of the rumbling, so I didn't know how close he was to me. "Well hello gorgeous." I hear Lucifer say, I open my eyes to see his face a few inches away from mine. "Oh you're wearing makeup, it looks good on you." He complemented me. "Lucifer get up." I say as I start pushing him. "I am darling." He chuckled. Standing up, he offered me a hand, which I gladly took.

"Well that didn't sound good." He stated as he dusted himself off, I nodded in agreement. "I actually finished measuring you, I would probably charge you about $230." I said as I looked over my notebook, adding the measurements. "Always straight to business. That's what I liked about you." He chuckled. Taking money from his wallet, handing it over to me, before I pull away he takes my hand, bringing it to his lips. Kissing my knuckles for a moment before pulling away. "Well I'll see myself out, and you should probably check what that sound was." Lucifer said as he started walking out of my room.

Watching him walk off, I felt the heat leave my face. When did that happen? When did my face get so hot? I asked myself, but just blew it off as me just getting hot. Placing down my money on the table, and I hear another bang. Groaning as more rubble falls down in my room. "Ughhh! What is that!?" I yelled out.

A/n: My first story on here and I plan to write more. Sorry if I update slow but I'll get around to doing it!

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer magne x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #Alastor #charlie morningstar #angle dust #husker hazbin hotel #vaggie #hisnumber1

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strangererotica · 13 days ago

Text

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Jim Hopper x Reader | angsty smut | includes infidelity, Reader is married to a different public servant of Hawkins (can you guess who, @umnitsa ? 😉) Hopper is married as well, death of Hopper’s daughter mentioned, Hopper is a real ass here, unprotected p in v sex, vaginal fingering, ANGST ANGST ANGST…

@mrshopper84 @travelingtwentysomething @beefrobeefcal @braincell-pingpong @skye-44 @midwest-princess @riotrhythm

──────────────────────

“This isn’t right.”

At first, Hopper didn’t hear you speak. He was too distracted by the taste of your soft skin on his tongue, his mouth pressed to your neck in an open kiss. When your words did register in his mind, he disregarded them. Who gave a fuck whether what the two of you were doing was right or wrong? Hadn’t you both earned some happiness? You, with a husband too absorbed in his work to pay you any attention, and Hopper, whose wife had grown so cold and distant after the death of their daughter that she barely let him touch her anymore?

“This isn’t right, Hopper,” you repeated, insistent this time. His grip on your hips tightened, almost hurting. You were sitting on his lap in his office, after hours at the station. In the darkness, just the two of you, just how you liked it. How you needed it to be, to avoid a scandal that would turn the small town of Hawkins upside down...

You became frustrated at Hopper’s disregard for your words, pulling back from him. His jaw tightened, his lips a thin, hard line. “And what makes you think I fuckin’ care if it’s right or wrong?” he asked, his voice husky and impatient. “I want you.” Hopper bounced his knee under you, making you gasp as your cunt settled against the thick outline of his cock. Hopper exhaled as you shifted on top of the erection painfully straining against his uniform. “I want you,” he reiterated, speaking through grit teeth. “I want you and that asshole you’re married to doesn’t.” Hopper’s words stung already, but they were about to get worse.

“That new secretary he just hired? Remember her?” You braced yourself for what you already knew was coming. “He’s fucking her, did y’know that?” Hopper didn’t waste time softening the blow of his words with pretty euphemisms. Why should he? You’d come this far, let him touch you already. You were straddling Hopper’s lap for fucks sake. You wanted this as much as he did, and he’d be damned if he let you pretend to have grown a conscience between the time you straddled his lap and now…

Hopper knew you were a smart woman. You must have known your husband was having an affair, that he’d been unfaithful for as long as the two of you had been married. “Mrs. Kline,” Hopper uttered your name through a cruel smirk. He reached for the strand of hair spilling down your shoulder, gently tucking it behind your ear. You shivered as Hopper’s thumb grazed your earlobe, his skin warm. “Don’t let this time we have go to waste,” Hopper told you. “We both know things aren’t going to change anytime soon, for either one of us.”

You shifted a little on top of his thighs, Hopper’s cock pulsing against your cunt in response. You’d already soaked through your panties, a wet patch leaking through onto Hopper’s pants. He’d have to wash those himself, later. Couldn’t risk his wife finding them in the laundry and asking questions. But a bit of deception was a small price to pay if it meant finally getting inside you.

“Larry is-,” you began, but Hopper bucked you on his knee again, silencing you.

“Mm-mm,” he chastised, shaking his head. “Don’t say the bastard’s name. Not when you’re with me.”

Hopper swallowed any words you may have had left in a kiss. His tongue licked back the apprehension sitting on the edge of yours, the things you knew you should say, but didn’t want to. Mainly, the word “no.” You didn’t want to tell Hopper no.

His large hands held you down against his lap, thumbs finding purchase in the space where your hips and thighs met. Being the mayor’s wife, you’d interacted with the Chief of Police several times over the years. But never like this. The time you’d spent together had been social, limited to local events. Always public, always within the gaze of the people of Hawkins. The eyes of the public on you had forced both you and Hopper to keep your desire for one another a secret. But now, years later, you’d both grown weary of pretending, of keeping things professional. His hand slipped between your legs, gliding under the waist of your panties. You gasped as Hopper inserted two of his thick, calloused fingers inside you without warning. A cocky little grin pulled at his lips. “Just warming you up, sweetheart,” he drawled confidently, adding “Christ you’re fuckin’ tight…Might send you back to Lare a little broken, y’know…?”

You moaned into Hopper’s chest as he fingered you, humping against his palm. No matter how fucking good his fingers felt inside you, he was still Jim Hopper. The same man who’d developed a reputation for drinking and drug use while on the job. The same man whose wife was presumably sleeping soundly right now, at the home she shared with Hopper, having bought the lie he’d sold her about needing to stay late at the station for ‘work.’ He was working, but not the way he’d implied. Hopper’s fingers working inside you were an altogether different kind of work, the way he manipulated your cunt yet another form of manipulation he was very skilled at, in addition to lying to his wife.

“You’re so close,” Hopper gloated at your ear in a low, smug voice. The fact that he was getting you off with nothing but his fingers was stroking Hopper’s ego, just like his fingers were stroking your insides. He held a misplaced sense of pride in being able to do for you what your husband couldn’t, or wouldn’t, do. It was something Hopper could accomplish, something he could succeed at, in contrast with his crumbling marriage. Maybe instead of thrusting his fingers up another woman’s cunt, he should have been at home with his wife, working on repairing his marriage. But Hopper wasn’t interested in what he should be doing. All he wanted to do, was you.

The sound of Hopper’s chair creaked loudly in the small office at the impact of you grinding on his lap. He smacked your ass with the hand that wasn’t between your legs, then carefully removed the one that was. You whimpered at being suddenly empty, pouting up at Hopper in frustration. He didn’t deny you for long, quickly working his belt and pants undone, his cock springing free and smacking thick and wet against your cunt with an audible slap. Hopper lifted you by your hips, guiding you onto his plump, leaking tip and letting you sink onto him at your own pace.

Hungry, greedy, your cunt swallowed Hopper with minimal difficulty. You managed to take him whole, your clit pressed against the coarse dark hair above Hopper’s cock. He growled behind grit teeth, as the sensation of being consumed by you overtook him. It had been years since Hopper had been with a woman besides his wife. The grip of fresh pussy moving up and down his shaft caused Hopper’s brain to temporarily glaze over. He was lurched back into awareness by the harsh ring of the telephone sitting on his desk.

“Ignore it,” Hopper panted, speaking to himself as much as you. A moment later, the phone ceased ringing. When the shrill sound began again less than a minute later, Hopper pulled his lips from your throat and cursed. He knew there was only one person who would be trying to reach him here at this time of night. Hopper reached for the phone, gently lifting it from the receiver. He brought his index finger against his lips, instructing you to remain quiet. Forcing his voice as steady as possible, considering you were grinding up and down on his cock, Hopper spoke: “Diane?” You nuzzled your face into Hopper’s neck, muffling your own sounds into his shirt. A woman’s voice on the other end of the line spoke, but you couldn’t make out the words. You didn’t want to. All you wanted was to keep riding Hopper, moving closer and closer to your peak.

“I can’t-I uh-,” Hopper stammered, swallowing. You could feel the heat radiating from his chest, the sweat blooming beneath the hair peeking out from his shirt collar. “I’m gonna be a little longer, sweetheart,” Hopper managed, clearing his throat. He closed his eyes in an attempt to remove the image of your breasts bouncing in front of him with every descent you made on his cock. His wife’s voice chattered away on the other end of the line. “Thirty minutes,” Hopper said, and inwardly, you grimaced. You wanted all night with him, but under the circumstances, both your options and Hopper’s were limited.

“Yeah,” Hopper grunted, followed by a rushed “love you too,” before he quickly replaced the phone on top of the receiver. You paused, meeting his eyes in the dim light of his office. “Is that true?” you asked tentatively, your voice breathless. Hopper’s hands were all over you again, as if the phone call had never happened. His expression conveyed annoyance as he sorted out what you were asking him, his response a confused “what?”

“She said I love you,” you explained. “Your wife. And you said it back.” Hopper’s eyebrows lifted incredulously. “Yeah,” he said. “What’s your point?”

“Did you mean it?” you asked, despising how pitiful and small you sounded in this moment. Hopper exhaled, the cruel smirk returning to his lips. “How is that any of your fucking business?” he asked through a humorless chuckle. His smile evaporated as a darker look replaced it. “Now you listen to me, because here’s how this is gonna work-.” His hands slid down your thighs, squeezing a little too hard. “-You’re gonna keep these legs spread till I come in between them and then we’re gonna part ways like this never fuckin’ happened, understand?” You nodded, forcing the tears behind your eyes not to fall. You wouldn’t give Hopper the satisfaction of knowing he’d hurt you anymore than he already had.

Hopper nodded, satisfied with your compliance. “Good girl,” he said, without any sentiment behind his words. Hopper’s arms crushed you against him as he bucked up into you. His shoulders tensed, the muscles in his stomach tightening. Hopper’s grunts of exertion grew sharper, till his body stilled tight against yours, his cum spilling inside you. With his forehead pressed to your shoulder, Hopper panted hot and labored against your chest.

The absence of sound in the office, apart from Hopper’s breath, was far from quiet. A sick tension hung in the air, his cold words repeating back in your mind on a loop. After a moment, Hopper patted your ass and instructed you to “get up.” He held onto the base of his cock as you slid off it, a thick trail of semen gushing out and landing on his thigh. Hopper cursed, almost as if implying the mess was your fault. He turned his back to you, lighting a cigarette. Feeling unsatisfied and worse, ashamed, your voice was trembling when you quietly asked, “should I…go?”

Hopper’s shoulders moved in small chuckle, and he turned to face you. His cock was still hanging out, as if he was in no hurry to put it away. You, by contrast, had already begun to dress. Hopper sucked a long drag out of his cigarette, exhaling as he informed you flatly, “yeah, we’re done here.” He reached for his coat and made his way to the door. Even though you were fully dressed by now, you felt more exposed than ever. He waved his hand ahead of him, ushering you out the front door of the station. “See yourself out,” Hopper directed. The hurt inside you was beginning to boil over into rage. You’d never felt more used in your life, even after being humiliated by your husband’s affairs for years. “Fuck you, Jim,” you spat at him, your saliva landing on his cheek. Hopper’s eyebrows lifted in a look of amusement. “Well that already happened,” he taunted.

The cold night air was oddly welcoming as you burst through the station door and out into the parking lot. You found your vehicle and quickly got inside, your hands squeezing the steering wheel till your fingers cracked. You left the station and made your way home to your husband, while another man’s cum slowly leaked out of you onto the driver’s seat the whole way home.

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disillusionedjudge · 2 months ago

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@notyourdumblonde - continued from here

There... wasn't? Mayhap it had been far too long since Gylfie had entertained the notion of a courtship with anyone, or mayhap her courtship with Myriel still left her feeling the need to keep her affections hidden. But the idea that she didn't need to keep it hidden lifted her heart, as cautious as she was to accept it, and smiled fondly at Luciana. Her head tilted slightly as she watched her work on her dress.

"Are you certain?" she asked - her voice quiet. Hesitant, even. "I do not wish to cause problems for you, Luci." Gylfie took notice of her wince, and grimaced sympathetically in response. "You alright?" She glanced at Luciana's hand, and ignored the way her heart skipped a nervous beat at the sight of blood, as small as it was. "Here, let me see."

She didn't dare interrupt her lover's work, and was distracted by her question - her face warming. "Ah, that sounds more interesting," Gylfie admitted with an embarrassed chuckle. "There was a bit of an incident last night and I had to run after someone. I hadn't the time to be more careful with it." There was a reason why Gabranth's dying wish had been for Basch to carry on his mantle, and last night had proved it, when someone attempted to go after little Emperor Larsa. But, even in a formal setting, Gylfie and the other Magisters were still on duty, and nothing came of it, outside of an arrest and her torn dress.

"Thank you for mending it," she added. "It means much to me, my heart."

#notyourdumblonde #v; to make a name you pay the price #s; would it be enough if i could never give you peace? / gylfie & luciana

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trashmouth-richie · 1 year ago

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𝚕𝚎𝚝’𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚎

older! college coach! steve x fem! reader

summary: your mysterious coach was always hot headed and pushed you harder than the other girls, after losing an important game, you both find ways to release your frustrations.

triggers: 18+ ; steve is thirty and reader is early twenties and plays basketball in college. smut, light use of pet names, no y/n, steve is a dick to reader and has a huge one, biting, hickies, p in v no condom. Very slight mention of blood, indication of simp behavior at the end.

“Hustle girls!”

“Box her out!”

“Are you fucking kidding me 22?”

His workout tank was ringed dark around the hem of the neck, glistening drops of sweat travel from the column of his neck down into the gray cotton blend fabric.

He was pissed. When wasn’t he?

A rogue strand of hair escapes from the style he had down to a science, red blotches flashed across his cheeks and neck, veins poked out from his vacation tanned skin.

Last night's game ended horribly. And today you were all paying the price for it.

With only 10 seconds left on the clock in the 4th quarter, the play he had drawn up on the marker board was the exact same one you had been practicing since your first year at college. Only this time you were getting the ball after Mel faked to Blair, with just enough time to shoot that beautiful three point shot you had been perfecting since high school.

The squeak from the black expo marker under his thick fingers wrote out his code: Hawkins for the play that was drilled into your brain by coach for the last year.

“Run it just how we’ve been practicing, I’m telling you it’ll work.”

Mel’s fake out didn’t work and you had gotten the ball late. Each dribble from the floorboards into your sweaty palm felt like a heartbeat. The girl guarding you swatted at the ball, missing just barely as she attempted to make a steal, trying to force you to foul her when she had the ball to waste more time and grant you your fourth foul, ending your playing time.

A quick move around her and a cross to your left hand had her stumbling over her ankles like Bambi, and you cut to the three point line, lined up your Nike’s to the hoop like your dad had taught you, and arched the ball into the air.

The buzzer was blaring when the orange ball left your finger tips, tongue poking out and your ponytail fluttering behind you. the gymnasium lights were hospital white, piercing your eyes and making you see dots as you landed on your feet, your competitor reaching for the ball at the last second.

Anticipation filled your lungs as the ball circled around and around the rim. The girls and coach all rose from the bench and waited with hands on their heads or holding hands watching the ball spin.

And with a sick twist, it fell out. Landing to the floor with a silent thud as the bleachers erupted into a nascar loud roar.

Bulldogs: 60 Pirates: 58

He was furious.

Clipboards snapped on his khaki thighs as you all sat on the wooden benches of the sweaty walled locker room. He didn’t yell, he didn’t speak to anyone other than glaring into the ceiling.

“Pack your shit, bus leaves in five.”

No times for showering or debriefing, you and your teammates were hustled to the bus as he snapped his fingers, let’s go let’s go let’s go!

Refusing to let the bus driver stop to get water or any sort of snacks on the way home. “They don’t deserve it.” He preened, looking at your sad faces with a disapproval that cut so deep it had some of the girls in tears.

His mossy green eyes stopped on yours and the disappointment brewed to hatred, his eyes burning emerald, he blew air through his nose and clenched his knuckles, “none of them.”

Mel had thrown up twice during Coach’s infamous Hellfire Sprints. Her and her boyfriend Trevor, who was practically your 5th suitemate, had stayed up until dawn doing pulls from a tequila bottle and hitting his dab pen.

You hadn’t slept either.

Laying on top of your comforter with wet hair and lotion slicked skin, racking your brain with how the shot felt a tiny bit off from your fingers, how coach’s eyes looked like a fucking demon’s when he glared at you on the bus.

How the Sunday morning practice, which was usually laid back and games of pig and watching game tape, was going to be hell on earth.

“22 if I have to tell you one more time to move your ass I’m cutting you from this team do you hear me?”

You rolled your eyes as you pushed yourself faster to touch the black line, beating out the other girls by a full few seconds.

After the sixth set of sprints he had you all go to the workout room and max out on squats. Your legs shook and nearly buckled under the heavy weights. And all he did was stand behind you and tell you how pathetic you looked, he shook his head and scoffed.

“We’re gonna stay here all day til you rack this up, don’t care if you fall on your ass— you’ll do it.”

His breath fanning your ear drove you mad. Spearmint gum and that rich boy cologne he always wore stung your nose as you grunted in defiance.

Through bared teeth and burning lungs you extend your legs to stand.

You wanted to kick him in the dick, make him shut the fuck up for once, but you bit your tongue. Driving the bar up and slamming it loud against the rack Looking back at him with a glare in your eyes, you wouldn’t let a single tear wet your eyes, never giving him the satisfaction.

He looked you up and down quickly, but his eyes felt like hot pokers dragging against your skin. Before he crossed over to another one of your teammates to add more weight to their bar, he dipped his head, and muttered just above a whisper, “Thatta girl.”

You didn’t know much about him but what you did know was that he kept to himself.

Coach Harrington was only a few years older than you, he had a small mustache that he more than likely grew to make himself look a little older than he was.

From what your suitemates had found out by spending hours scouring online archives from his hometown local newspaper to his social media footprint that didn’t exist— and even going as far to stalking his ex girlfriends Instagram— he had played college ball at Perdue for two years before blowing out his knee and ending a full ride scholarship and any rumored possibility of making it to the NBA.

From locker room gossip, you had learned that he drove a black Jeep Wagoneer, and lived in one of the newer apartments downtown.

The university had paid double what they had for the last coach's salary to get Harrington through the doors. The athletic director, Mr. Hopper, had picked him to coach because he was one of the best. But all he was to you was a fucking asshole.

The other girls had ooed and awed over him, the other teams coaches flirted with him before the games, trying to get his number and find out more about the brooding coiffed hair hottie. And maybe you would feel different about him if he wasn’t such a raging prick.

But he wouldn’t budge.

He didn’t get personal with anyone on the team, barely even talked to his assistant Dustin. Refusing to call anyone by anything other than their jersey number or their last name.

Practice lasted for three hours. And by the end of it his voice was hoarse and gruff. Having screamed practically during the entire time.

It wasn’t anything new. He was always high strung and losing his shit when it came to the girls, but mostly you bore the brunt of his anger.

He always used you as an example on what not to do.

“You’re doing it wrong 22,” he’d bellow, his voice echoing loud across the empty gym, his arms crossed tight across his chest, muscles popping under the strain of his tight gray shirt, “drive to the left then cut right, this isn’t fucking hard… do it again.”

You did as you were told, fighting through anger that seeped through your skin and riddled your face with shaking muscles of anger, a twitch to your eye.

You were pissed and had had enough. Not only were you the youngest captain your school had ever seen, you were averaging triple doubles nearly every game.

Showing up to practice early to shoot free throws and leaving late to make sure all the equipment was put away. Spending weekends in the gym running drills or pushing weights instead of at the nearest rager popping pills and snorting coke like everyone else your age.

You put in the work and it showed, but he couldn’t see it.

It was equally frustrating and heartbreaking.

When practice was finally through and all of the girls had either thrown up, left mid practice to go to the nurse or screamed that they were quitting, the locker room was an endless groan. Muscles were slicked over with the menthol burn of icy hot, and sore shoulders wrapped with bags of ice. Tape was torn from ankles and jammed fingers wadded up and tossed into a nearby waste bin. Sniffles were heard from some players and you stood in a sports bra and shorts when Coach Harrington entered the locker room.

“Don’t get too comfortable, we’ll be back here in 3 hours to run more Hellfire Sprints.”

The girls groaned and slammed lockers, bitching under the breath.

“Hey!” Coach Harrington shouted, a thin vein bulging in his forehead, matching the ones in his arms, as he stood with his hands on his hips, the retro fit of his athletic pants swishing under his thick hands. “You want someone to bitch to? You can thank your captain.”

The room falls silent as all eyes land on you. And your breath hitches in your throat, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Me?” You question, “what the hell did I do?”

“The question you should be asking yourself is what you didn’t do. How did you sleep last night knowing you blew that game for your teammates?”

A gasp escapes from your lips and you stare at your Air Forces to hide your pained expression.

“Now, the rest of you get recharged, be back here at 5 o’clock, I don’t want any excuses.” As the room starts to file out, through the heavy wood door, Coach Harrington still stands in the middle of the room, eyes burning holes into your skull, “22 meet me in my office in 10, we need to discuss your position on this team.” He turned on his heel and headed through the doors, pushing them open with a straight arm and his pants swishing down the hallway,

You wait til everyone has gone, Mel giving you a slap on the shoulder, her skin unusually pale on her olive complexion under her charcoal braids, “good luck.”

Lifting your chin you nod and wave, throwing an oversized crew neck over your head and pushing your arms through the holes. Gym bag strewn over your shoulder and you pull your socks up a bit before making the long trek down to Coach Harrington’s office.

Contemplating what you would do when you walked through his office and he kicked you off the team, your long basketball career over because your coach couldn’t fucking stand you.

Never in all your life had you had a coach like him. He pushed you to the limits and started to make you despise the sport altogether.

And since you were about to be booted off the team, you didn’t have anything to lose.

The gold plate reading: Coach S. Harrington- Women’s Basketball on the large mahogany door nestled between the cream cinder block walls almost made your stomach lurch. He never asked anyone to come to his office, not even when Zoey got pregnant last semester and had to quit.

Nerves shook your fist as you knocked on his door, your other hand fumbling your car keys around the silver ring.

“Yeah.” He barked curtly, anything but friendly.

Turning the enormous brass knob, you keep your eyes to the floor when you step into his office. For being down an abandoned hallway, it was almost cozy. The walls were painted fire engine red to match your school's colors. His college degree was framed and hanging on one wall, along with signed pictures of Michael Jordan that you knew cost more than your car.

The oak desk was neat with a MacBook and cup of pens and pencils. A markerboard hung the expanse of one wall covered in scribbled plays and code names.

It smelled like musky expensive leather and cologne and neatly stacked paper Pictures from his glory days were on the shelf behind him, and he cleared his throat when you stared at him flying through the air towards a hoop.

His hair was messy, tufts of brown sticking up, like his fingers had been raking through it so many times out of frustration that the flexible gel wasn’t holding anymore.

He peers at his screen without making eye contact with you, fingers tapping noisily on the keys.

“Do you hate basketball?”

His question has your head spinning. And when you don’t answer right away he asks again.

“N-no,” you stutter, voice shaky and on the verge of screaming at his stupid question.

“Sure about that?” He seethes, still not looking up from his laptop as he clicks away furiously on the keyboard, “The way you played last night could have fooled me.”

Moon shapes indent your palm as you try to keep it together without ripping his head off like a praying mantis “It was a mistake.”

“We don’t make elementary mistakes,” he says slamming his laptop closed and peering over his desk at you through his thick eyebrows, “a fucking third grader could have ran that play better than you did.”

Your throat is dry and chalky as you try to stick up for yourself, being accustomed to keeping rage boiled hot in your belly, “I-I’m..”

His torment continues, pointing around the room at the awards from the last few years, “We’re a nationally ranked team, and your performance last night was embarrassing, and pathetic!”

A single tear threatens to slip down your cheek, and he notices the watery look in your eye, and licks his lip, but he keeps going.

“I expected more out of you, 22– you let your team down last night, and most importantly, me.”

You burst before the dam does, annoyed and sick of his threats, sick of his constant nitpicking of every move yoj make, “That’s not anything new.”

“Excuse me?”

“You treat me like I’m a dog! It’s almost like you want me to quit, you don’t bitch at any of the other girls like you do to me, and I’m tired of it!”

“Watch your mouth.” He points, eyes squinted and nostrils flared.

“No! I work my ass off for you, come in early and stay late. My game has improved and I’m top of the charts for scoring and rebounds, yet you fucking hound me and are constantly cutting me down.”

He doesn’t say anything so you keep going.

“Last night could have ended with us winning and you wouldn’t give a flying fuck, you’d still make us run your dumbass drills, you’d still wake up and find something wrong with what I do— stop taking your failed career out on me!”

he slams his fist into his desk and stands up quickly, the picture frames wiggle as his chair hits the shelf. He crosses the small office in one long legged step coming to stand before you as your back hits against the heavy door, he points a thick finger into your face.

You struck the last fragile nerve he had like a guitar player busting a string playing a solo. Any reserve he had left was gone, his eyes clouded over into hue deeper than a dark forest.

His hot breath fans your cheek, spearmint intensely strong with each bite of his words.

“Don’t you ever talk to me about my personal life again, you got that? You,” he surges pointing into your shoulder, “are supposed to be a leader for this team, and right now you’re acting like a spoiled fucking brat not getting her way.”

The tear you were holding back spills over over your lashes and, his eyes break from yours to watch its southward path on from your cheek to your chin. A low grown rumbles in his throat.

“I’m not a brat!” you scream at him, wiping your cheek hastily, “you’re crazy, and we all hate you!”

His eyes stay moody and dark as he peers into your face down the slope of his nose, “really?” he says no louder than a whisper, “you hate me huh?”

A thick hand wraps around your ponytail, and his body crowds yours into the door, back flat as it would go despite your curves.

Your breathing is erratic, bubbled into your throat with anxiety like you might throw up. His face is so close to yours you can see the definition of each of his eyelashes, and tiny flecks of gold in his eyes.

He’s staring at you with pure hatred, like he’d kill you if ever given the chance, and you’re almost embarrassed by the way your pussy clenches.

“Say it again,” he murmurs, mouth barely moving and barely an inch from your own, his eyes only leave yours when your mouth opens to speak.

“I fucking hate you, Coach Harring—”

His mouth slams into yours with such force your teeth clack together and the taste of blood trickles on your tongue. Your back is pushed flush against the door, likely to bruise from the force alone.

His full weight is pressed against you, his taut body firm and rocked with muscles. He locks your hips in place with alarge hand, fingers gripping your skin beneath your sweater.

Firm and taking what he wants without a second thought, his lips are intoxicating. The roughness of his mustache tickles your lip in an itching way, more than likely leaving a burn behind in his feverish take on your mouth.

His hair is soft in your grip, and you nearly roll your eyes thinking about his hair care routine, but you find yourself rolling your eyes in a different way when you feel his cock bulging through his pants.

Thick and heavy against your thigh, if you had to take a guess it was probably as veiny as his forearms were. And you stifle a moan when it kicks up.

His teeth bite at your lip and you yelp in pain, a noise that only drives him further into you, his hand tightens around your ponytail and yanks your neck further back so your head hits the door.

His shirt is fisted into your hand and you pull him further into you, sliding your tongue against his—sharing the taste of your fresh blood and his spearmint spit.

You scratch at his scalp with your dull nails and he fights back a melty groan.

“Such a fucking brat.” He breathes, as his fingers work the hem of your crew neck up, his fingers feel like lightening strikes against your body, and you welcome the dulled pain with a moan, “Need’t be put in your place.”

You whine when your sweater hits the ground with a soft thud and the cool air of his office ices over your still sweat slicked skin. His lips suck deep bruises into your throat, and his fingers dip into the waistband of your shorts, shoving them down in a hurry.

Expert fingers find your clit and he smirks when you whine for more, “thought you hated me?”

You pout when his fingers come to a halt, eyes flicking open to see his confidence boasting on his stupid perfect face.

“But this pretty little pussy doesn’t, does she baby?”

“Coach,” you moan out for him, his title on your lips in a sloppy whine make him harder than he’s ever been.

His thick fingers dip into the silky warm folds of your pink pussy. The combined noises you make, echo loud in his office. “Fuck baby,” he groans, his fingers sucking up into your gummy walls, he pops them out licks the juicy wetness of your arousal from them. “So wet honey, all this for me?”

Your fingers pinch at his sweats and pull them down in a swift motion along with his boxer briefs. He’s hung more than you thought. Making any guy you had been with previous look like something in a funny museum.

His abs are sculpted and dip into a hard cut v, leading to a small patch of trimmed hair, housing the longest, thickest dick you’ve ever come across.

And you were right it was veiny.

The pretty mushroom pinked head was presenting a pearl of pre cum, so pretty it could make an angel cry. When you try to lower yourself to wrap your lips around him, he stops you.

“Not today,” he groans, fisting his hearty length, your eyes going dumb watching him, brain numb and drunk on him already, “not enough time.”

He wraps your legs around his waist and hoists you up against the wall, your bare back stings against the rough cement wall, he’s grabby, his lips pressing heat into your neck, his moan tingling your skin.

With a quick shift of his hips, your tight pussy sheaths his thick cock. And you scream out.

“Shit, fuck honey..” he’s fighting to keep composure as you are practically lifeless against the wall. His thrusts are filled with purpose and want as your ass is slammed harder and harder into the wall, clapping along like a round of applause, ankles crossed around his lower back at your Nike socks and the laces of your air forces bouncing in tandem.

He’s sweaty and grunting, with each pull from his cock brings more deep and pretty noises from you and he sucks into your shoulder again, knowing damn well his mark will last for weeks. One you’d have to explain to your friends and your teammates, and your boyfriend.

He didn’t know if you had a boyfriend and frankly he didn’t give a fuck, you were his for the time being and he would do as he pleased.

He was fucking you stupid and you were letting him, holding his neck in a lazy grip as he hammered into you, and when you tightened around him, he knew you were close, “look at me,” he begs of you, “you’re gonna come for me, yeah?”

“Yes,” you choke out, barely registering what he’s saying from the tight coiled pleasure of your orgasm ready to fire away.

His cock drags slow as your eyes connect, yours lazily spilling over with fresh tears, “who’s makin’ you feel this good, 22? Huh?”

“Y-you Coach!” you whine, nearly ready to crumble under his thick fingers when he rubs your sensitive clit.

“What was that baby girl?,” he croaked, holding back his release, “couldn’t hear you.”

“Oh fuck oh fuck mmm you, Coach Harrington! Fuck I’m coming!”

Your orgasm breaks and it’s like a dam has busted, his dick is soaked by your arousal and he’s losing any bit of cockiness he had left when your face smooths and your lips blur a pretty round ‘o’ as you hum and your body tingles.

He follows not far behind you, muttering sentences that make no sense, drunk on your pussy as he paints your walls with his release.

You’ve never seen him look hotter, his forehead rests on your chest as you both catch your breath. For a split second he shows you a sly smirk, like he actually was enjoying himself.

“you might just be my fav-”

before he can finish, before he can pull out and offer you a towel, a loud knock scared everything in him stiff. Besides his cock that went instantly soft.. his blood ran cold.

His face stares at the door, and you stare at him, your grip on his shoulders tighten.

“Steve?”

*let me know your thoughts on this, should there be a part 2? I love hearing your comments ♥️

#steve x female reader #steve x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve fanfic

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smallpeniscollective · 2 years ago

Text

Smokin’

Eddie Munson x Reader (18+)

Summary: (reader smokes weed with her crush Eddie, lowered inhibitions lead to shared secrets, smut ensues)

Word Count: 5.8k

Content: she/her pronouns, drugs (don’t do drugs, kids), some cursing, sexual content, p in v sex, unprotected sex, praise during sex, pet names (princess, baby, sweet thing), loss of virginity (reader’s)

Minors DNI pls !!!

Part 2

*~*~*

All she could focus on was the ticking of the clock, digging deeper into her psyche and driving her absolutely crazy that class was not over yet. She wasn’t a bad student, in fact, she did very well in her English class, but right now all she could think about was meeting Eddie out by the abandoned wooden table in the woods, just far enough from the school so nobody would bother them. She was downright jonesing for some of that za.

It didn’t hurt that she had had a crush on the school freak for a while. They shared the senior Calculus class, and if it wasn’t for her letting him brazenly cheat off of all of her work, he wouldn’t even be passing. In the period before her English—the Calculus class—she had slid a note to Eddie that read, Woods after last period? He answered with a subtle nod, and that was that. They had plans to make a sweet deal.

The bell rang, and she scooped up her bag and almost ran out of the classroom, jump-scaring a few peers as she zoomed past them still in their seats. She slipped through the halls towards the exit, darting past all of the high school trope groups and the group-less people who were getting excited for the weekend.

It was a sunny day outside with small fluffy clouds, but still a briskness to the air, making her realize she had left her sweater in her English class in her rush. Well, she thought, I guess it’ll be in the lost and found on Monday.

She snuck past the track field, managing to stay unnoticed by all of the students leaving the school at the same time. Trudging through the forest, she made a game of it to make as little sound as she could, staring at her feet and avoiding twigs and leaves that looked particularly crunchy. She almost won the game in her head, just about to make it to the wooden table...

She hit something sturdy, immediately bouncing backwards and landing hard on her ass. “Ow,” she reacted, then looking up to meet the eyes of the man, the myth, the legend. Eddie Munson.

“Sorry, was I in your way?” he joked, extending out an arm to help her up off of the ground. She accepted it, taking his hand and feeling him yank her up with such ease that it gave her a small headrush coming up so fast.

“Sorry, I was looking at the ground,” she mumbled, following him to join him at the table.

“Yeah, I noticed you do that,” he said. Even when he didn’t mean to, everything he said sounded like flirting, and it only made her more nervous around him. He sat across from her, opening his box and keeping its contents out of view of her. “So... same as usual?”

“Mmm, I think I want more this time. How much can I get for thirty-five?” she asked, pulling a crumpled wad of cash out of her jeans pocket.

“Woah, that’s a lot. You trying to stave off our little visits?” he jokingly asked, although the fastest little glint of sadness shone in his big brown eyes.

“Oh, no, you know these are the highlights of my week,” she mused back, flashing a cheeky grin that had him smiling back immediately. He pulled a bag of bud out of his box, and it was a lot; her eyes were glued to the hefty amount of weed in the plastic bag. She could feel his stare burning her skin as she struggled to meet eyes again. “How much would I have to pay you to roll for me? I’m just not as good at it as you are.”

“Princess, you know flattery is the way to my heart,” he openly flirted, “For you? I’d roll your whole bag for free. Only price is that you’d have to pick up your goods from me later at my place, it’s gonna take some time to roll all of this up.”

The pet name caused her cheeks to burn, and he must have noticed the effect that that had on her because his grin turned deviously large. She managed to stutter out, “Y-yeah, that’d be c-cool.”

“C-cool?” he mocked, eating up her nervousness and having it boost his confidence. “Don’t tell me you're clamming up on me, sweetheart.”

She rolled her eyes, releasing her tension with a breathy chuckle. “Don’t play dumb with me, Munson, you know you’re hot,” she joked, hoping he would drop the subject of her anxiety if she called out the reason for it.

“You think I’m hot?” he asked. His tone had changed from his usual flirtatiousness to actual intrigue. She dropped the cash on the table in front of him, hoping to escape the mess she had created.

“So, where do you live? And when do you want me to meet you there?”

He raised an eyebrow at her, giving her a look that said, So, we’re just gonna skip over what you just admitted? Her unmoving stare answered his question and he moved on, taking her money off of the table and answering her with, “The trailer park. I’m the big silver one. Van outside. You’ll know it when you see it. And... how about nine?”

“Nine’s good,” she uttered, swiftly turning away from the table and taking off in a blushing rush, tucking her hair behind her ears as she power-walked away from the table as fast as she could.

“Alright, see you at nine, princess!” she heard Eddie call from behind.

*~*~*

Nine p.m. had finally rolled around, and she managed to find his trailer in the trailer park. She recognized his van, sweeping her fingers along the side of it as she made her way to his front door. Or, the only door of his trailer.

Admittedly, she had gotten a little dolled up. She didn’t change her outfit, for that would have been way too obvious, but she did add a touch of makeup, just enough to make her eyes pop in the way she likes and make her lip look extra kissable.

Taking in a deep breath, she knocked softly on the door three times. The third knock was cut off by the door swinging open and Eddie’s tall figure stood in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe.

“Hey there, sweet thing, you come here often?” he flirted, tilting his head to the side and looking her up and down obnoxiously. The exaggeration of his attempt at flirting drew a giggle out of her, rewarding Eddie with a sense of satisfaction at making her laugh.

“Got the goods?” she asked, taking a step towards the door, and he moved out of her way to let her in. She scanned over the piles of cassettes and VHS tapes, noting his abundance of horror movies and metal music, which she had expected. The smell of cigarettes and dust lingered in the air, which she didn’t mind at all. She’d never admit it because of all the medical propaganda her family dumped on her, but she thought it was cool that he smoked cigarettes. She had seen him lighting up a few times before in his van while leaving school, and she just couldn’t deny what seeing that little stick hanging from his lips did to her.

“Yeah, uh, sorry about the mess,” he said, rubbing the back of his head with his hand. She had never seen him be bashful before, and heart did a little leap as she had found it endearing.

“It’s fine, Eddie. I can promise my bedroom is much worse,” she joked, still looking around his trailer. She hadn’t realized it, but he noticed that that was the first time she had ever referred to him as Eddie. To everyone but his club, he was always Munson, always the freak. His heart did a leap too in that moment.

“Oh! I got your goods in here,” he said, dipping away to fetch the baggie of joints he had pre-rolled for her. Damn, he was right. That was a lot of joints. She stared at the bag in awe.

Being in his home must have given her a small sense of confidence, because she proceeded to nervously ask him, “Um... if it’s not too much to ask, would you like to smoke one with me...?”

He stared at her with an indecipherable expression. She couldn’t tell if he was deciding for or against smoking with her, and she broke eye contact and looked down as a nervous habit. She started to backtrack, “Y-you don’t have to, I just—”

“Fuck, yeah. I’d love to.” He dropped a big dimply grin, infecting her with the giggles.

He opened the bag and pulled one of the neatly rolled joints out before zipping it closed and passing it back to her. She put the baggie of joints in her bag quickly, pulling out her own small bright blue handheld lighter. She gave the lighter to Eddie before mentioning, “Don’t forget to give that back, it’s my only lighter.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, princess,” he answered smugly before extending an arm in a silent invitation to sit on the couch, and she obliged. She sank down on the old couch, and it felt more comfortable than her own couch at home. He plopped down next to her hard, rocking her and the couch, before holding the joint out for her to take. “You go first,” he said, tilting his head down to look at her with a devilish grin.

“Gladly,” she said, leaning forward and catching the end of the joint on her lips, taking it from him without using her hands. “Light me up?” she asked through the joint on her lips.

“Gladly,” he returned, using her wording against her. He held the little blue lighter to the end of the joint, flicking the gear and igniting it. She hovered over the flame for a moment before pulling back to breathe it in, puffing on the joint heavily before Eddie swiftly grabbed it from her lips.

The burn in her lungs felt like a warm tingle spreading through the inside of her chest, but it was the burn in her throat that made her cough. She coughed an embarrassing amount, her face and eyes turning red from it. “Hey, it’s supposed to be puff puff pass,” she whined in a manner that conveyed she wasn’t serious, but her mangled voice was what made Eddie laugh.

He gave a dark chuckle before saying, “Like you’d say no to me, sweetheart.” He held her gaze intensely as he hit the joint, taking in a deep puff before letting out a billowing cloud of smoke, blowing the smoke into her face teasingly. She laughed at his gesture, waving away the cloud.

After they had gone back and forth, taking turns of the joint until it was just a roach, she put the roach down on the ashtray on his coffee table. Eddie had some of his music playing as they were both leaning back against the couch, heads staring at the ceiling as they felt the weed kick in.

She began to feel fuzzy, her body feeling so heavy like it was sinking further into the couch. She let out a light stoner laugh as she felt the tingles spread down to her fingertips and toes, feeling her brain swirl around like the room was spinning. The voice of her consciousness sounded out loud, and her speaking voice sounded too quiet like it was in her head. But her absolute favorite part of getting high was the sense that she truly had no other care in the world, just bliss and fuzziness and oversaturated colors. It felt like peace.

“This shit fucks so hard, Eddie,” she said, her brain confused to if she even said those words aloud.

She lazily tilted her head towards him, watching with heavy eyes as he stared at the ceiling. She couldn’t help but stare. It was definitely the weed heightening this thought, but she couldn’t help but notice how pretty he was. His big brown eyes with the long eyelashes, his dimples that suited his cheeks so well, his sharp jaw and strong chin, and oh, those plump, kissable lips.

“Eddie...?” she whispered, pulling his gaze from the ceiling to her.

“Yeah, princess?”

His eyes were so red. She would have laughed if she wasn’t about to say, “Has anyone ever told you how pretty you are?”

He laughed slower than usual, so she could tell he was deep in his high like she was. Their conversation felt like it was happening underwater, and his voice tickled her ears as he replied, “Damn it, babe, I was supposed to call you pretty first.”

She felt the laughter bubble in her chest first, slowly erupting from her mouth, her brain feeling disconnected from the process. “Beat you to it. Sucks to suck, Munson.”

His eyes drooped, and he glanced at her lips before looking back into her eyes. “You are, y’know. Pretty.”

She looked away out of habit before giving a huff. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious,” he said, turning his body so he was facing her. “I was surprised you even wanted to smoke with me. Hell, I’m surprised you even wanted to buy from me. The cute girl in my Calculus class wanted to buy from me? How did I get so lucky?”

She turned her body so she was facing him, leaning her swirling head against the couch. Her eyeballs felt fuzzy as she looked up at him with doe eyes. “You think I’m the cute girl in class? You dummy, I think you’re the cute boy in class. Why do you think I let you cheat off of my work?”

His eyes stared deeply into hers, and he glanced at her lips briefly again. This time, she returned the favor by glancing at his. She felt her heart racing in her chest, every thump echoed through her body until her extremities felt numb. He placed his large hand on the side of her face, and the coolness of the rings were like a shock to her as he swiped over her lips with his thumb. His touch felt electrifying, as if every nerve cell in her body was magnetized to his skin. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, in the softest tone she had ever heard from his lips.

“You fucking better,” she joked and was immediately pulled in. When their lips met, it felt like fireworks were going off inside of her. Tingles shot up the back of her neck and crept up the base of her skull, capturing her in pure bliss as Eddie’s lips melted into her own. She could taste the weed and hint of cigarettes in his mouth, and she could hear the heavy breathing from his nose against her face. It was all she ever dreamed of, plus some. She had never enjoyed kissing other boys, mushing mouths always felt so awkward and unnatural. But with Eddie, now, all she wanted was to feel the soft fleshy wet mess of tongue against tongue. Her heightened sensations from the weed mixed with her established crush on Eddie had her already giving out soft moans into his mouth, and she could just feel him smile against her mouth in return. She felt his big warm hands place themselves on her waist, and she leaned in further, pressing her chest against his.

She didn’t even feel when her hands had moved to grip his Hellfire Club shirt until he pulled back. “Damn, why have we never done this before?” he said in a deep husky voice.

“Because I get nervous,” she said, feeling the words spill out before she had time to think of a proper response. She looked down and fiddled with the neckline of his shirt before saying, “And because this weed’s got me feeling brave, Eddie.”

“Just how brave are we talking?” he asked, thinking she wouldn’t notice his quick glance down at her body. She did notice. In that moment, her body felt hot to the touch, and then the weed did something it had never done before. Maybe she had just never been horny and high at the same time, but the way the pot in her system sent her body into maximum overdrive at the way Eddie eyed her body had her throbbing hard in her jeans. Her nerves were ablaze everywhere, especially there, and she could just feel her underwear becoming increasingly more damp the longer she stared at him.

“Really brave,” she muttered, unable to speak above a whisper due to the intense craving her body was feeling. He flashed that dimply grin like he knew she couldn’t resist it and moved his hands to cup her face. She let her neck go lax, melting into his touch and letting him hold the weight of her head. His hands felt so hot against her face, and then he leaned in so close that his lips brushed against hers as he spoke.

“You ever fucked a future rockstar?” he inquired, his eyes looking darker and deeper than ever.

A chill ran down her spine at his words, and a let out a shaky exhale before admitting, “I’ve haven’t ever fucked.”

He immediately dropped his charismatic persona, pulling back with a look of concern in his eyes. “I’d offer, but I don’t think it would be right to... deflower you... in such a state...” He began to trail off, but she put a finger to his lips.

“Eddie, right now, I’ve never wanted anything else so god damn bad,” she said, unable to take her eyes off of his perfect plump lips. “Only reason I never have is because I’ve never liked anyone else this much.”

She watched as his lips morphed from a concerned flat line back into that devilish smile she liked to see so much. It infected her, making her smile wide as well, and the tip of her finger felt like it was buzzing as she traced along his smiling lips with her finger. The underwater feeling returned as she leaned up to bring his lips back into a kiss, laying back on the couch and pulling him down with her so that he was laying on top of her and kissing her.

“Damn, you really do get brave when you smoke,” he chuckled, and the deep chuckle rumbled in her ears as she caught his lips again, opening her mouth to invite him into hers. His tongue slid across hers, feeling hot and slimy, and she loved it, returning the gesture. She felt him slowly drop all of his body weight onto hers, and the pressure against her lower abdomen caused her to let out a small gasp into his mouth. He felt her gasp, taking a sense of pride in being the one to make her feel this way and pressed himself against her again, feeling his own excitement start to build.

She spread her knees apart, allowing him to lay between her legs, and he willingly obliged to taking the position, sliding his denim-clad crotch against hers. The friction of him pressing the seam of her jeans into her elicited the smallest moan from her, and Eddie repeated this against but harder, fulling grinding into her as their mouths danced and his clothed erection rubbed against her. Her fingers found their way into his long hair, her nails accidentally scratching against his scalp, making him groan into her mouth. The sounds and feelings that he was giving her welded together in a fuzzy entanglement, making her already spinning head feel like she was on air. She felt his warm hands snake down from her face down to the hem of her shirt, dipping his fingers underneath the fabric to brush against her hot skin. The sudden coldness of the rings made her slightly jump, and he pulled back, worry apparent on his face. His eyes nonverbally asked, Is this too much?

“Sorry, your rings are just cold,” she giggled, before taking the initiative to lift her own shirt over her head, revealing the black bra underneath. Truth be told, after school she had switched into her fancier undergarments in the hopes that something would happen between them. And she was appreciative to her past self for making that decision. He stared in awe at her chest, all pushed together by the tight black bra and looking extra plump in the dim trailer lighting. He took the chance to bury his face in her cleavage, sucking and smacking on the soft flesh, leaving little reddish purple spots in his wake, causing her to moan and lightly buck her hips up. She was already turned on, but now she just felt like an animal in heat, all wet and needy for him. He pulled a nipple out of its bra cup and took it into his mouth, swirling his tongue softly on the hardened bud, and she felt waves of tingles flow through her body, half from the high and half from the pleasure he was bringing her just from sucking on her naked skin. When she had gripped his hair so hard she was worried she’d accidentally yank it out, he grinned against her soft skin, just knowing how he was affecting her untouched body.

“That feel good, princess?” he whispered, releasing her nipple from his mouth, pulling back to look in her eyes. He had never seen her, or anyone, look so desperate and needy. Hell, she would have begged if he told her to. She looked up at him with pleading doe eyes, and he just melted at the sight. “C’mon, baby, use your words.” His deep voice dripped like honey into her ears, and she felt the shift in her core that made her need some friction down there.

She whispered back, “Please keep touching me.”

He chuckled and with a teasing voice said, “Oh, baby, you think that is me touching you? You don’t even know.”

He unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans, pulling them down her thighs until she lifted her legs above his head so that he could pull them off of her calves. He threw the jeans on the floor next to her shirt, keeping her legs up with his hands. She didn’t realize she was panting as he slid his hands down her legs, letting them drop on either side of him while he gazed tenderly at her damp panties.

“Already so wet for me, baby? That’s so sweet of you,” he teased, hooking his finger under the wet patch and pulling her underwear to the side. She gawked at him unabashedly as he swiped his fingers up her wet slit, his fingers feeling cold against her heat. She whimpered at the cold sensation, accidentally bucking her hips. The high had left her brain and traveled south, making her body feel abuzz as he rubbed up and down her slit a couple of times, barely grazing the sensitive nub at the top.

“God, you’re so hot,” she heard him say, but her eyes screwed shut at the sensation of her throbbing cunt being touched so gently. When she felt a finger prod her hole, she gasped, letting him know she was very ready to be entered. A thick finger entered her, and she moaned loudly as he pushed his finger all the way in, his thumb still rubbing up and down. He slowly pulled out and pushed back in his finger, choosing to add a second one. The second finger made her feel the slight stretch, and she moaned louder at the sensation. He started pumping his fingers in and out of her, starting a new building sensation in her core. The faster he pumped, the more he bumped that sensitive nub with his thumb, and that feeling inside of her felt like something deep was about to explode. She unashamedly rutted her hips against his hand, letting out more whimpers and moans than she ever had before in her life. And just as she teetered the edge of that sinfully delicious explosion, he stopped completely, pulling his fingers out of her and leaving her a panting, soaking mess.

Her throat hitched, releasing an audible whine, making Eddie laugh. He leaned over her, his painfully hard but fully covered erection hovering over her sopping heat, and said, “Now see, baby, that was me touching you.”

She was speechless and desperate, needing any sort of attention back on her tingling loins. “Will you please fuck me?” she timidly asked, relinquishing any morsel of control she had and completely throwing the ball in his court.

“Of course, princess,” he said with a wink. He paused to sit up and look around the small living room of the trailer before declaring, “But not here.”

“Not here?” she breathed out.

“C’mere, we’re going to my room,” he said, lifting himself quickly off of the couch before turning around to swoop down and suddenly lift her off of the cozy furniture, bridal-style. She reveled in the romance of it all, feeling most definitely like a princess with her handsome knight in shining armor, freely laughing as he carried her to his little room.

Eddie’s bedroom smelled a lot more like weed than his living room, and she could guess where he smoked most of the time. Metal and rock posters lined the walls, and towers of cassettes, books, and VHS tapes littered the floor.

He ducked down to lay her down gently on the bed before yanking his Hellfire club shirt over his head quickly and tossing it on a pile of discarded clothes on the floor. She stared at his bare torso, admiring his tattoos, and he just ate it up. He smiled before dropping himself down on the bed over her. “You ready for more, sweetheart?”

"Yes,” she blurted out with zero hesitation, eagerly nodding and eyeing the tent in his jeans hungrily. He followed her line of sight, smirking to himself when he realized she was staring straight at his boner. He leaned back, looking down to undo his jeans before he shimmied them off, letting the tent in his boxers swing free, before throwing his jeans onto the pile of clothes to join his shirt. He then resumed his place, crawling over her as she laid back on his bed, his clothed erection grazing her legs and then her abdomen as he climbed up her body. Using his forearms to hover over her, she dug her fingers into his hair and pulled him into a steamy kiss. As their mouths meshed together again, he steadily lowered himself so that their half-naked bodies were flush against each other, and she could feel his stiffness nestle right into the crotch of her panties, making her let out a shaky breath.

He slithered his large hands down her body before reaching her underwear, hooking his fingers into the sides before pulling from the kiss to ask, “Can I take these off?”

“Only if you say please,” she joked, mentally slapping herself for choosing this moment to toss in a joke. But, like the good sport he was, Eddie was quick to respond.

“Please, oh please, may I take thy panties off?” he mused back, but looked confounded when he saw her flinch. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re very hot, Eddie, but please don’t use the word panties. It just feels so weird when guys say it.”

“Panties.”

“Eddie, I’m serious. It feels icky.”

“Panties.”

“Dude!”

“Panties!” he yelled, waving his hands in her face and laughing hard at the cringing expression on her face. She couldn’t help but join in his laugh, being able to look at their conversation in a different light, and seeing how ridiculous they sounded.

She sighed, shaking her head in an endeared manner as she said, “Fine. Thou may remove mine panties,” returning the joke of Old English speak.

He gave an exaggerated groan and said, “God, you’d do so well in DnD. That’s so hot.”

“Ist thou removing mine panties, or what?” she asked flatly, hoping to get back on track to their sexual shenanigans.

“Oh! Right, yes,” he said before theatrically yanking down her underwear and tossing them over his shoulder. All of the laughing and giggling stopped when he laid eyes on her sopping cunt. She could just see his erection strain against the thin fabric of his boxers. He pulled them down, letting his boner spring free, and his length slapped against her thigh. She hadn’t expected it, but the boy was hung. She gawked at his long extremity, and he let her, taking pride in her jaw dropping. She looked back up into his eyes and smiled when he asked, “You ready?”

“Mhm,” she mumbled before wrapping her hand around his member, but he put his hand over hers to stop her, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Woah, wait, do we need a condom?” he asked, gingerly stroking his thumb over her hand.

She shook her head, “I’m on the pill, Eddie.”

He grinned in response, before taking the reins to line the tip up to her still-soaking entrance. When he started to push in, she felt the swirling feeling coming back to her head, and she couldn’t tell if she was still so high or if this was a new feeling, being already cock-drunk on Eddie. The stretch of him felt sharp for a moment, but she felt too blissful to react to it, pulling his head down to attach her lips to his once more. Their mouths hung open against each other’s as he fully sheathed himself in her, and this time she did let a small whimper of pain escape. Her pain immediately dissolved into pleasure as she adjusted to his size.

When he began to move inside of her, starting slow as he pulled out and pushed back in ever so gently, she was still a moaning mess, moaning against his open mouth.

“That feel good, baby?” he asked, and his words had never felt so sugary sweet. All she could do was moan in response, her moan raising in pitch as it caught in her throat. He broke their kiss to watch her face, her expression conveying euphoria as he slid in and out of her. Her tight walls felt so good on his cock; he would have finished then and there if he wasn’t so focused on her. He snuck a hand down between their bodies, searching for her sensitive little nub, and once he found it and began drawing small circles around it with his finger, she could feel that building sensation return. And he could tell from her moans getting progressively louder. He wanted her first time to be everything she could have wished for, so he started to pick up his pace and thrusted harder and faster into her, keeping his finger steady on her clit.

Sparks were shooting through her body, centered around her lower abdomen, and she wrapped her legs around Eddie to keep him closer, even though she knew he wasn’t going anywhere. The steady circling around her clit became sloppy as he let himself pound into her hard, and she felt his member reach impossible depths inside of her. The faster and harder pace of his cock sliding in and out of her, stretching her from the inside out, had her digging her nails hard into Eddie’s shoulder blades as she felt her hips begin to chase that tension building in her. She let herself get lost in the pleasure of it all, the tingles in her brain all the way down to her fingers and toes mixed with the waves of pleasure coming from her abdomen had her toes curling and her eyes squeezed shut. She felt her walls begin to squeeze tighter as the tension inside of her began to reach its peak, like a string about to snap.

She suddenly felt her face being grabbed by a strong hand, her jaw entirely encapsulated. “Look at me,” his voice demanded, and she opened her eyes pitifully, giving him the eye contact he wanted. Eddie had always been so silly, such a tease. It was shocking yet so deeply arousing to hear such sternness in his voice. “I wanna see it in your face when I make you come.”

“Eddie,” she whimpered, “I think I’m gonna—”

“I know, baby, I can feel it. Be a good girl and come for me.”

And with his words, that string inside of her snapped, and she let out a squealing moan as she experienced her orgasm in waves, feeling her walls pulsate and stretch over his cock while her body went completely lax. He continued to pound through it all, letting out aggressive grunts as he thrusted through the clenching of her walls, giving her continuous echoes of her orgasm until his pace stuttered. He released a gentle moan with his own release, prolonging it with extra pushes into her until he felt his own hot liquid seep out of her tight hole that was clenched around his member. He pulled out slowly, and she whined at the sudden emptiness inside of her.

“God damn,” he huffed with a tired smile before dropping his body onto hers, burying his face in her naked chest. She giggled at this, playing with his hair and scratching her nails over his scalp.

They stayed like that for a good long moment, basking in their post-coital bliss, until she noticed the clock next his bed. She read the time with a gasp. “Oh my god, it’s like three in the morning! Shit, I gotta get home.”

They climbed out of Eddie’s bed reluctantly, gathering their clothes from his bedroom floor and from the living room floor. They hadn’t spoken a word yet, both too nervous to wreck the good thing they had going, until Eddie couldn’t take the tension anymore. “Okay, so... I guess I’ll see you on Monday?” he asked, not sure of what to say but wanting to desperately to beg to spend more time with her.

“Yeah,” she shrugged, before pausing a long moment to suggest, “or we could hang out like tomorrow, or technically later today... Uh, if you’re not busy...”

He absolutely beamed at her words. She did want to spend more time with him. He felt excitement blossom in his chest as their little situation felt like the beginning of something special. “Tomorrow—er, later today—would be awesome.”

She let out a nervous, breathy chuckle. “Cool.”

“Cool,” he repeated back to her. They fell into silence again, but it was comfortable silence this time.

“I, uh,” she began, gesturing to the door.

“Oh! Yes, of course,” he said, stepping out of her way and opening the door for her. When he opened the door, the cold night air hit her like a ton of bricks and she shivered, regretting leaving her sweater in class earlier that day.

He witnessed her slight shiver, instantly saying, “Wait right here,” before dipping away to grab something from his bedroom. He came back with his iconic denim and leather jacket, offering it to her. “It’s really cold out tonight,” he shrugged, like giving her his jacket was no big deal.

“I can’t take your jacket,” she said, attempting to politely decline.

He hung it on her shoulders and said, “Well, you can give it back later,” both as a way to make her more comfortable but also as a way to express that he hopes she sticks to their plans.

“Okay,” she breathed, “and you’ll have to give back my lighter.”

And with that, she was on her way home with plans to see Eddie tomorrow.

*~*~*

A/N: my first Eddie fic !!! Part of me wants to do a part 2 so bad, but pls let me know how u feel about it omg <3 lov u guys

#stranger things #stranger things eddie #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut

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hami-gua · 8 months ago

Text

永别了，亲爱的 Farewell, My Beloved

Long overdue since Qingming has long since pass (oops).

Blade x gn! Reader

Takes place in game — not canon though

Warning: Chinese is used (English translation provided), angst hurt no comfort (first time writing this angsty)

Please read to the end for credits and reference.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━

Shoes echoes through the barren halls. The figure moves through the doorway, his steps slow. And then he stops. Right in front of the wall of name plaques. His red eyes scanned the whole wall, searching for a particular name and walking to it right as he spots it. He carefully pulls out a clean cloth — and with care, wiped down the plaque. It didn’t need to be cleaned, as workers everyday made sure all plaques are cleaned out of respect. Once he was done, he placed the bouquet of white chrysanthemums in front of it then sits down.

The figure couldn’t help but think of their death. Of the three that had to pay a price, he alone had to pay the biggest. He made a promise to them and he broke it. The what ifs began to speed through his head. He’s died once, and he wants to die again. He wishes he can be with them in the afterlife. That is, if Mengpo doesn’t make him drink her soup. Not that he could see them anyway. Not after what he’s done.

He places two cups and pulls out a jar of wine. After filling both cups, he took his and raised it — drinking it all after.

“I’m sorry,” was the first thing he said to them, “I’m sorry for dragging you into this mess.”

He wants to apologize but no matter what he says, he knows no explanation could cut it. It was his error in action. In emotion. There was no way words can express his regrets.

“我与你的记忆损乱了，“ a tear slips from his eye, “你长得什么样，我也记不了了。我也记不住你的声音了。我只能记得你的名字，但也记不了多久了。“ [Memories of me and you have been messed up… The way that you looked, I cannot remember. I also cannot remember your voice. I only remember your name, but I cannot remember that for long either.]

The figure sat in silence for a bit before starting once more, “当年，如果不是我，也不是丹枫的话，你今日该会是什么样了？你还会像以前一样跟景元玩象棋吗？跟丹枫看书？跟镜流和白珩逛街？或者跟我练功？” he drank another cup full of wine, “可惜，三个付出代价去了，一个早已离去，最后一个孤独的留在了罗浮��不知你和白珩有没有相遇。我想是。我们当时挣扎了好久，现在平安多了。你若在的话，肯定会喜欢现在罗浮的环境。“ [That year, if it wasn’t for me, and Dan Feng, what would you have been like today? Would it be like it was then, with you playing xiangqi with Jing Yuan? Reading with Dan Heng? Shopping with Jing Liu and Baiheng? Or would you have been sparring with me? …. Sadly, three paid a price, one has departed, and the last one is left lonely on Luofu. I don’t know if you and Baiheng have caught up. I’d like to think you guys did. Our time was so messy, but Luofu today is much peaceful. If you were here, you’d definitely like Luofu today.]

Amidst his rambling, another figure approached. She stood right behind him, gazing up on the plaque.

“It’s time you wrap it up, Bladie.”

Blade hummed in acknowledgment, “Just a little more time.”

The lady stared at him a bit longer before sighing and heading out, saying she’ll be waiting for him at the entrance. After he was sure he was alone again, he spoke softly.

“是时候该走了。如果我没有捅你一刀，你今天应该还会在吧。对不起，这是我最后一次能看你了。仙舟没有我的地方了。在这个人生里，可能再也不会有人像你一样叫我的名字了。我永远也不可能是应星了。” [It’s time I should get going. If I didn’t stab you that day, you would probably still be here. I’m sorry, this is my last time seeing you. There’s no longer a place for me on Xianzhou. In this life, there will be no one to say my name the way you do. And I will never be able to be Yingxing anymore.]

Blade gets up and places the jar of wine next to the filled cup. After, he bows to the name plaque three times. Then, he turns and walks out of the room — leaving Luofu till his death arrives.

永别了。。。[Farewell…]

亲爱的。[My beloved.]

─── ∙ ↤THE END↦ ∙ ─---

I've been thinking, should I make banners specifically for the characters I write? Or would that be too much? Cuz right now, I can't decide on a banner for each story.

Qingming 清明: Called Tomb-Sweeping day in the west. People visit the graves of their deceased love ones. Even going as far as cleaning and retouching graves. It’s customary to offer food and wine (or other beverages they loved).

White Chrysanthemums: White flowers, mainly white chrysanthemums are placed during funeral and the dead. Don’t gift these to people please (unless you desperately wish for that person to perish).

Mengpo 孟婆: A deity in the underworld that gives passing souls her specialty called 孟婆汤 (mengpo soup) that would wipe their memories for their journey in their next life.

Bowing three times: I was taught this at a young age, but when bowing to gods and ancestors, you bow three times. Usually it’s very quick, but I like to take it slow (cuz I think it shows deeper respect).

#hsr x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #blade x reader #yingxing x reader #hsr yingxing #hsr blade x you #hsr blade x reader #hsr blade #hsr angst #blade angst #honkai star rail blade #honkai star rail angst #blade x you

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sirdindjarin · 2 years ago

Text

The Savior - Din Djarin x f!Reader

The Mandalorian, side-quest extraordinaire, accidentally frees a slave, kills a Senator's son, ends a criminal conspiracy, and falls in love. Just a month in the life of the galaxy's favorite chaotic space cowboy and his son.

The Savior / The Concession / The Choice (END)

A/N: i fucking love this man. here's the spotify playlist i made while hallucinating being wrecked by him. I accidentally based this fic on Euphoria by Angels & Airwaves.

AO3 Link🤠

TAGS: Fluff, m!falls first, plot with porn, helmet stays on for now, P in V, outdoor activities, protective!Din, soft-ish!Din.

WARNINGS: reader is/was a slave; references to abuse; no curses or slang outside of Star Wars canon (that's a warning if you hate that hahaha)

**************************************************************

"I thought vagrants were barred at the door. How did a Mandalorian get in here?”

The Mandalorian in question does not react to the insult. At the table before him, the taunting Trandoshan guffaws, but his laughter dies when he gets no reaction from the bounty hunter.

"What do you want?" He snaps, his green jaws clicking shut.

Instead of replying, certain the answer is obvious, the beskar-covered man leisurely surveys the colorful, boisterous room, his hands folded in front of him. Having already scouted the upscale casino, he does this for sarcastic effect. He’s also certain that fact is lost on his Trandoshan quarry.

Upon returning his direct attention to the lizard, a small movement in the booth catches his heat sensor. A young woman, likely his quarry’s slave by her frayed appearance, sits with her head bowed behind her master.

“Hey, tin man, you in there?” Your master’s voice sounds more like rocks scraping together than fluid language.

The Mandalorian chucks a bounty puck onto the table, the name and alien visage of Rathos Craaf glowing in a blue cone of projected light.

“Go quietly or don’t - it makes no difference to me.”

“Ahh,” Rathos Craaf hums in his throat and leans back in his seat, making your demure form more visible to the bounty hunter. “What’s the price?”

The Mandalorian again does not dignify a response.

“Can’t be greater than what I’m willing to pay,” Rathos insinuates.

The tense silence eats through your body as the ruthless men stare at each other - the probability of oncoming violence ratcheting up.

“Go prepare my ship,” your master barks suddenly at you, raising his hand.

Flinching, you scoot around the U-shaped booth to obey.

You weren’t always a slave. As a child on Kenari, you had been born into a world of vivid green, rippling blue, and rich, brown soil. Trained in both hunting and fighting from birth, you had been too young to save your village from the brutal relocation program of the Empire.

Dispersed onto harsher worlds, you’d been sold from one slaver to another until finally coming into the collection of one Rathos Craaf. He has been your master for several years by this point, and while not the worst, he was close.

“What will you do about the girl?” A modulated voice asks.

Pausing on the edge of the hard bench, you look between the two antagonists. Me?

“Who cares about the mudscuffing girl? Tell you what, I’ll sell her to you.” The crafty Trandoshan gets an even better idea: “Or - take her in exchange for the bounty. She’s considered top-tier sentient property.”

“Not what I was asking,” a gloved hand thumbs his blaster. “Once you’re in carbonite, wh-”

The Trandoshan lunges up from his seat with a booming yell, launching at the cloaked, beskar-free neck of the Mandalorian. Rathos’ claws reach around the smaller man’s throat, but the Mandalorian is lighter of foot, ducking out of the hold.

Off-balance, Rathos tumbles but rolls back on his feet, his scaly tail acting as a counterweight. Gasps and mutters spill from the crowd as people scramble out of harm’s way.

You remain seated in the booth, frozen and unsure. But then, as the silver bounty hunter aims his blaster, Rathos whips his tail into the Mandalorian’s legs, knocking him with a clang onto his back.

The blaster goes skittering through the crowd, and you’re shocked to find your legs racing after it.

The thunder of a powerful flame roars in the cavernous room as you weave through aliens and humans alike, searching. The blackness of the blaster appears on the gray floor and you dive for it.

Cold steel excites your skin. It’s heavier than you thought it would be, and though you’ve never fired one, your ancient muscle memory remembers the feeling of a bow in your hands; the trajectory, strength, and steadiness necessary.

Sprinting back through the crowd, you find Rathos pinning the Mandalorian’s chest. The solid armor prevents any of Rathos’ blows from truly hurting the bounty hunter, but the weight of the lizard is too awkward and great for him to shove away from this angle.

The fire-throwing vambrace comes up again and, as it billows into the Trandoshan’s face, you fire a blast at the substantial tail that had once been used against you.

Rathos bellows in pain, tumbling to the side, and the Mandalorian takes full advantage. He jumps to his feet, then connects his fist to his quarry's skull, rendering the creature unconscious. Binders clasp around the arms of your master and the successful bounty hunter staggers backward a single step to catch his breath.

You freeze at what you’ve just done, the blaster still pointed at Rathos. People murmur, and the words, “Killed by his slave” can be heard, though he is only unconscious. Your chest heaves, far more out of breath than the Mandalorian walking toward you.

“Thank you,” he says drily, taking his blaster out of your hands.

Unsure what else you should do, you follow your master as he is dragged without dignity along the smooth fogstone floor.

Exiting the casino, snaking down an alley, and traipsing to the outskirts of the city limits, the silhouette of a ship against the orange horizon becomes visible.

Neither you nor the Mandalorian have spoken a single word since he took the blaster from your hands, but as he presses a button on his vambrace to lower the loading ramp, he turns to you now.

“Grab his tail."

An order. That you could do. You immediately grab Rathos’ tail and lift. The Mandalorian half-drags and half-lifts the Trandoshan by his cuffed hands and the lizard is loaded into the ship’s hold.

Standing at the far end of the Mandalorian’s rather busted ship, you’re surprised to see a small, green being. Dressed in what must be a sack, its long ears perk up and its eyes glimmer at the sight of the bounty hunter. A happy coo reverberates in the quiet, metal space.

The child looks at you and makes another, similar noise. It waddles toward you, but before you can react, the Mandalorian scoops the child into his arms and sequesters it behind a thin blast door.

“You are free to go.”

It’s an odd statement. He must be familiar with the underworld. He knows how slaving works.

You’re not sure when you last spoke; you weren’t allowed to speak. But the bounty hunter seems to expect a reply.

“I am not. The law says I am to be returned to the slavers’ coalition for repurchase.” Your voice is scratchy from disuse and the helmeted man tilts his head in curiosity.

“You won't run?”

It seems too monumental a task. Hopes and fears trip over each other in their efforts to be heard. Freedom. Finding a place to call home. Your family was long dead. But… maybe there was hope of a family somewhere.

Where would I even go? No way I could stay ahead of the slavers. They’d send hunters like this Mandalorian after me. I’d be worse off than I am now.

“I do not know if I can,” you whisper honestly.

The Mandalorian looks at you - at least, you think he does - for so long that you begin to squirm under his gaze.

Without warning, the wind is knocked from you. Rathos’ tail slams into the back of your knees, crumpling you to the floor. His claws wrap around your neck, and you yell, plunging two fingers into his lidless eye.

“Traitorous shutta!” Spittle from your master flies onto your cheeks.

As he recoils from your jab, you squirm underneath him, trying to flee, when the weight on your chest vanishes in a rush of air. Coughing and wiping your face, you lie there momentarily until your throbbing pulse abates inside your head. You sit up and widen your eyes to hasten their focus.

The Mandalorian has the Trandoshan by the throat with both hands. Rathos sputters and gags, but you watch as gloved fingers dig harder into the scaly throat. The anonymous man shoves his quarry into the carbon freezing chamber and smashes the button with more force than necessary.

It's over.

When you woke in the dark that morning, never would you have expected to watch your master be frozen in carbonite aboard a bounty hunter's ship.

That bounty hunter turns to you now.

“I have something I need to do. I’ll give you passage if you provide assistance.”

________________________________

Crossing your arms, tucking your legs under your body, and leaning against the hull in your seat, you try to make yourself as small as possible. You wouldn’t have even climbed up here if the Mandalorian hadn’t indicated that you should.

He wanted to keep an eye on you. He did not trust you around the kid - despite (or perhaps because of) its interest in you.

Moments after leaving the planet’s atmosphere, a new emotion bubbles in your chest: elation. The stars flow by in a technicolor kaleidoscope; hues and shapes you have never seen race past your eyes. It’s beyond anything you could have imagined.

“Has it always looked like this?” You wonder to yourself.

You jump when a deep, electronic voice answers, “Yes.”

“Oh,” you murmur, realizing he had been watching you. “I’ve never seen hyperspace. I was kept in the hold,” you state without self-pity.

The Mandalorian lets that terrible fact hang in the air before eventually saying,“I recommend you get some sleep. It will be several hours before we reach Mid Rim.”

He turns away from you and folds his arms. The muffled clang of his helmet tipping back against the headrest tells you that he will be taking his own advice.

Interestingly, you feel safe enough to get some rest. Being constantly attuned to the temperamental wills and whims of others, you've become a great judge of character.

This Mandalorian, though quiet, is clearly capable of kindness to those who deserve it. A rarity for someone in his profession.

___________________________________

The blue cone glows in his hand, projecting the face of one ugly slug. The name at the bottom, written in a language you had been forced to learn, reads: Salaa the Hutt.

Fearful eyes flick up to the veiled Mandalorian, “A Hutt?”

The helmet nods, “You will be my way in.” You make a whimpering noise, but the bounty hunter continues. “You’re a slave on the run. I will be returning you for a small reward.”

Crushing disappointment deflates your body. Believing yourself to have been wavering between freedom and the life you had known, you realize, now that the decision was being made for you, that you’d chosen freedom. Further adding to your pain is your misjudgement of the Mandalorian.

I’d have never made it to freedom - far too naive. Thought a karking bounty hunter was doing something out of the kindness of his heart. Unbelievable.

Still, to your credit, you take several steps back, almost as though you might try to outrun the nimble, strong bounty hunter with a kriffing jetpack, of all things. You’re proud of yourself for even thinking about doing it.

The Mandalorian doesn’t react. He pockets the puck and opens his weapons cache on the hull wall. He lifts a small item from the assortment and shuts the doors. You can’t see what it is, and he doesn’t return to you.

He opens the blast door to the child’s tiny room. The baby snores in his bungalow, and the ever-fascinating Mandalorian rubs the green, fuzzy head before closing the door. He turns and strides toward you.

You take one more step backward, just because you can. Because you should.

He still says nothing. Closer, and closer, the armored man advances on you until you can see your nervous eyes in his breastplate.

“Give me your wrists.”

Is his voice naturally that persuasive or is it the vocoder?

Overriding your fledgling autonomy, you obey him with a preprogrammed respectful nod. He clasps binders around your wrists.

The Mandalorian steps away to retrieve another weapon, then he lifts his chin toward the boarding ramp.

Shouldn't you at least try to gain freedom? Beg him to let you go?

“Please, I can try to pay you,” this is a lie and he knows it. “Or I could work off the debt of transport. Something!”

It’s the loudest your voice has been in living memory, and it both surprises and emboldens you. But the Mandalorian does not seem swayed.

“Walk,” he orders.

You minutely shake your head twice. It means nothing to him, but everything to you.

An electronic sigh, then he takes a single step toward you. Fear switches you back into the subservient girl of the last twenty years. You flinch, your manacled hands blocking your face.

The Mandalorian falters, slightly abashed. “I am not going to hurt you. But you need to start walking.”

Slowly, you lower your hands. His gloved fingers curl around your bicep, and he leads you out into the sunny air.

It’s a hot day on Niamos. The beachside resort that serves as the capital city is teeming with families of all species bathing in the muggy air. The sandstone path that Mando - that’s what everyone calls them, right? - parades you down is packed with beachgoers. Embarrassed by your plight, you try to hide the binders, but it’s impossible with the angle he holds your arm.

Finding another gust of will, you reason, “Surely you could find a way inside without turning me in? You’re good at your job. You could've killed my m-”

“Salaa angered powerful people. There is a bounty on him and it’s higher if he’s dead.

“What does that mean?”

“He's careful. Employs expensive security. Easiest way in is through the front door,” Mando finishes.

Mando’s leathery hold on your arm is soft. Unyielding, of course, but he doesn’t hurt you. It saddens you to realize how different that is from your usual treatment. He had still binded you and planned on turning you in, but hey! At least he wasn’t going to leave a bruise.

Directing you down a narrow alley, the Mandalorian stops in front of a tan-colored, generic shield door. He raps twice on it, standing casually still. If he feels you shaking, he says nothing about it.

A Yaka man is standing behind the door when it opens with a whoosh. His metal implants reflect the sun and you squint. Behind him are another two Yaka and a particularly menacing-looking Zabrak, all armed with pulse rifles.

“We ain't buyin'," he slurs.

“I'm here to claim the slave reward.”

The Yaka stares at the impenetrable, T-shaped slit in the silver helmet, scrutinizing, before stepping aside. Mando guides you ahead of him, then you hear the spur-like sound of his step over the threshold. The close quarters are sweltering, and sweat beads on your temple.

“This way,” the Yaka servant veers to the right and up a steeply inclined hallway. The other members of the security team follow behind you.

The Mandalorian’s thumb slides over your skin. You would give it more thought if a wide, dingy room wasn’t quickly coming into view.

On the second floor, a muted, sparsely furnished area overlooks the residence across the street, and the beach beyond. However, you can’t see the view because the balcony is being taken up by a massive, blob-like shape, and a tall, spiky silhouette.

“Ahh,” the huge shape speaks, and for the first time in your life, you’re thankful you speak Huttese. “What is this?”

Bowing, the Yaka guard explains, “This Mandalorian has returned a loose slave.”

He grabs for your arm, but you lurch when Mando pulls you out of reach, warning, “Careful. She killed her master before fleeing."

The bodyguard recoils as though you personally threatened him. He steps away, waiting for actual instruction from his boss. The green Rodian next to Salaa tuts in his sour voice.

Deciding it was best not to speak, you raise your chin with dignity as Mando drops his hand from your arm.

“Why do you return her here?” Salaa the Hutt inquires. “Surely you know that I have been removed from my associations. Including the slavers.”

“I am here for information,” Mando drops the ruse completely, his voice calm.

“Information,” the Hutt laughs horribly. “I have much of that, pateesa. What do you wish to know?”

“You should ask what I have to trade first.”

“Hmm. You do not wish to trade the girl, I hope. Must be better than that,” the slimy giant slug laughs derisively.

You don’t even bristle. Worse things had been said to you daily.

The green, mohawked Rodian chuckles. Though you do not understand his language, the human bounty hunter does: “She is too sad-looking to be any fun. Pity.” The reptilian-looking male then makes a vile comment about what he can see through your ratty, loose clothing.

The Mandalorian's eyes narrow, and his right hand drifts toward his hip of its own accord.

“Make your offer, Mandalorian.”

“If you provide the information I need, I won’t claim the ten-thousand-credit bounty on your head.”

That horrible, bulging laugh bursts from the ex-crime boss once more, hurting your ears in its pitch and volume.

“Far too aggressive, Mandalorian. I decline.”

Salaa’s stubby arm motions at the armed security who raise their rifles at the two of you.

While you freeze in terror, the Mandalorian stills in focus. Faster than a hyperdrive, he clenches his fist. Miniature rockets whistle through the tense air, eliminating all three bodyguards; the angry Zabrak, the mouthy Rodian, and the blubbery Salaa remain.

The Mandalorian draws his blaster, pushing you behind him, and fires from his hip as the Zabrak guard begins to raise his modified arm. What type of weapon it held, you’ll never know because he falls to the ground, dead, before he can use it.

The Rodian darts away from Salaa, circling the room. To you, it seems as though he is intending to flee, not fight, but the Mandalorian fires a laserblast at his bug-eyed head, dropping him.

Mando calmly swivels his blaster to Salaa.

Resigned, the Hutt slimily states, “Ask what you wish to know, pateesa.”

“I have been told that you have seen another Mandalorian. Where?”

“Ahh, that is all? I have seen one here.”

“On Niamos?” So surprised, Mando forgets to keep the tone from his voice.

“A beskar-covered man does not go unnoticed on a planet filled with water-bathers,” Salaa laughs again. You visibly wince.

“Where?”

“Where else? Water’s Edge.”

Mando twists his head toward the opposite window as if he could see his fellow Mandalorian from here. He holsters his weapon and turns to leave.

“Those Yaka were expensive guards, pateesa,” the Hutt grumbles ominously.

“You paid too much.”

He returns his hold on your arm, pushing you forward. Marching awkwardly down the sloping halfway, you try to make sense of his actions.

Your face screws up in confusion, “You didn’t turn me in or claim the Hutt’s bounty. You're earning no credits.”

That’s the defining feature of a bounty hunter.

The silence lengthens as you reach the ground floor, and hurriedly exit the sandstone building. As you soak in the blistering sunshine, the hand on your arm turns you to face him. The Mandalorian’s quick fingers remove your binders.

“That’s it?” You rub your wrists even though he had left them on the loosest setting.

“Passage for assistance,” he reminds you.

He then nods once and takes his leave. For an interminable length of time, you watch as he calmly walks away, breaking only when he turns down an alley and is lost from sight.

What the hell do I do now?

__________________________________

The new day is growing late. Din Djarin basks in the heat of the single sun. For being one of those odd planets without plural light sources, the strength of the lone sun is incredible. Din much preferred the scorching, arid planets to the ice-covered ones, and Niamos is perfect. The breeze gently carries through his light flight suit, while the sun warms whatever dark material is visible around the beskar.

While Din feels more comfortable in this climate, heat signatures can be a little bit more difficult to read. He had managed to track a faint heat signature around Water’s Edge. The day before, immediately after speaking with Salaa, Din had come to check the place out, but his quarry had left some hours previously and he had lost the trail.

Din enters the establishment for the second time in as many days. Inside is a large, open floor with dining tables set out across the expanse. High society clinks glasses as they wait for the next act to grace the small stage. Din surveys the room, switching between heat sensors and normal vision, before concluding that the Mandalorian he searches for is beyond the far wall.

Heads turn and stare as Din, strutting as if he belongs, makes his way to the unobtrusive doorway next to the stage. A Mandalorian stands out here. This was a place for people who employed bounty hunters, not those whom they hunt. Din slides the door open, and he is greeted by a dark hallway.

Light spills from a room to his right. Din flips on his heat sensor again, and presses his lips together in satisfaction when the heat signature picks up.

Rounding into the room with confidence, Din observes everything at once.

A large mirror, complete with lights, sits above a desk. A rack of clothing stands lonely in the far corner. And on a stool in front of the mirror sits a Mandalorian, their flaky, blue-painted armor having seen better days.

“My name is Din Djarin,” he announces. “I have been tasked with finding other Mandalorians in order t-”

“Oh, my stars!” The Mandalorian squeals. The helmet is removed by purple hands, and a humanoid species stares in awe. “I’ve always wanted to meet a Mandalorian. I- I do this character because I just love your culture so much.”

Blinking behind his helm, Din confirms what he's already becoming sure of, “That armor you wear - it is not real beskar.”

“What? This stuff?” The actor scoffs. “This is expensive paint and cheap wetboard.” He stands up, advancing unwisely on the real Mandalorian. “Can I ask you some questions? I’ve got a real opportunity here to elevate my perfor-”

Din backs out of the room in a single, fluid motion, punching the button for the door.

He sighs.

***

A blaster shot turns the corner of the building Din had just walked past into dust and debris. He spins, drawing his own blaster, expecting to see the Empire itself. Instead, a young human bounty hunter stands there, nervously fumbling with her jammed blaster. The Mandalorian rushes her, pinning her by the collarbone against the alley wall.

"Bounty?”

Terrified, she nods and whispers, “Yes.”

"Who contracted it?"

She wheezes from under Din’s forearm, “Don't know. It's open Rim-wide for now. Just told to kill you and the girl.”

Under his helm, Din’s brow pinches. “The girl?”

The wide-eyed woman shrugs, again in the dark. If this inexperienced bounty hunter managed to track him down already, it's likely another has found you. Din releases the woman roughly and rockets up into the sky.

_______________________________

The sights and sounds of the beach are incredible. The late-daylight is deliciously warm as it touches your skin through the holes in your clothing. You sit on the top step of the tiered beach area, staring out at the water as you try to come up with a plan of action. Having slept on a lounge chair last night, you’re nearly grateful for the decades of poor lodging training your body.

The sky is hazy, but the flash of sunlight glinting off of something tiny flying far above has you twisting your head and squinting. Unable to make out the object, you return your attention to the ocean and ignore it.

From behind you, a voice calls your name and you automatically turn.

As you stare down the barrel of the blaster pointed at you, you remember no one should know your name here.

"Let's go," the bounty hunter tells you.

It's a woman with red skin and long, blue, braided hair. Etches in her cheeks make her bone structure look even sharper.

You frown. What you’d told the Mandalorian had already been proven correct. You weren't able to run.

Resignedly standing to your feet, you take a step, but go stumbling forward as the woman kicks your back.

Your second foreign emotion of the last twenty-four hours sparks in your chest, glowing as hot as the sun above.

"Hey! I was going," you glare.

"Move faster, scum," she orders.

You continue walking, your eyes scanning for something, anything, to get you out of this.

Ahead on the right is a large crowd of vendors and their customers. If you can duck through them, maybe you can lose the blue-haired madwoman behind you.

A cold, circular shape presses between your shoulder blades as you march, and your bravery starts to fail. If you make a single wrong move, you'll be shot before you even get to the crowd.

Just do it - better to die now than live as a slave.

The crowd swells as a school trip pours out from a nearby museum. Your confidence rises at the sight of the increasingly busy, confusing horde.

Closer. So kriffing close.

The female bounty hunter cries out suddenly as a blaster shot scalds her arm. She defensively spins, kicking out powerfully behind her.

A large species you're unfamiliar with, tall and teal, is thrown sideways with the force of the kick. The competing bounty hunter recovers into a crouch and shoots at your captor, hitting her in the chest.

With a violent exhale, she falls. Too busy sprinting into the crowd, you do not hear her final, pathetic breath.

Weaving, keeping ducked and hidden, you whisper a constant stream of 'excuse me.' You don't want to push anyone, knowing a reaction from an offended beach-goer could give away your position.

The unblinking bounty hunter, your newest enemy, stands tall above much of the crowd, and it doesn't take him long to spot your trail.

Thundering forward, happily shoving people you had so politely passed, he roars. Fear ices your stomach.

The sound of a sputtering jetpack drowns out the noise of the people. Never breaking stride, you search for the source of another bounty hunter.

I know I’m a runaway slave who assaulted her master before turning him into a carbonsicle but, banthashit, is the price on my head really that high?

The massive hunter gains on you, and just as you clear the other side of the crowd, you gasp, pained, when he snatches your hair. You whirl, packing all of your strength into your right fist. Your blow lands on the creature’s lower jaw, which seems to be two pink tubes, and it wails grotesquely.

The grip on your hair loosens and you rip away, but the much larger creature lunges for you again. It pulls you upward by your shirt this time, and you scream. Kicking out, your foot knocks a breath from the ugly bounty hunter, but it does not release you.

Staring at you with shallow black eyes, it speaks in a language you don’t understand, but the intonation is clearly a question.

Gasping, you boldly say, “Let go of me and I’ll tell you.”

The creature seems to understand Basic because his three-fingered hand leaves your shirt.

Before you get a chance to make up a lie, the hulking bounty hunter vanishes in a flash of silver. Your head snaps in the direction of travel, and a trail of exhaust follows.

A hundred yards away, the jetpack flares out and the two fall to the ground in a tumble of fighting. A strangled laugh exits your mouth.

From bigger fish to bigger fish. Eventually the biggest fish would win and come after you.

The sound of the ugly creature roaring ends abruptly with a choked grunt. You push your legs hard as you run. The doorway to a cantina catches your eye as an intoxicated human stumbles out, and you rush past him.

Inside the dark, clamorous, smoky business, you slide into the booth furthest from the door, hoping that neither hunter saw you duck in. Panting heavily, you tell the droid waitress you’d like a bit of spotchka. You’ve never had it, but you’ve seen how relaxed and brave it makes people and that sounds wonderful right about now.

The circular cantina door slides open and the silhouette of a tall, broad Mandalorian is outlined by the glaring sun. You can’t tell what color or condition his armor is in, but your stomach clenches all the same. It had been an entire revolution of the planet since your Mandalorian had left, so it can't be him.

Wonder if he found his friend, you think about his ten-thousand-credit question for the Hutt. Must’ve been quite a reunion if it was worth that much.

Shrinking back against the wall of your booth, you shift completely out of sight and pray to whatever Ancient is listening that the stories about their helmets’ capabilities are exaggerations.

The droid waitress sets your pretty blue drink on the table without comment, for which you’re grateful. You don’t think your voice works.

Clinking metal is audible despite the volume of the rowdy bar. The sound gradually grows louder as he approaches your booth.

“What are you doing?” The Mandalorian has his hands on his hips, and though you cannot see his face, you’re certain he looks like a disapproving parent.

“I- what?” You squeak, completely confused by his question. And why he's here.

He moves to sit down across from you, and your nerves flare.

“Why are you still here?” He asks the same question you want to ask him.

“Where was I supposed to go? I have no credits.”

“There is work available on this planet.”

You pause, unhappy to give away just how out of your depth you are, “You mean paid employment? I’m not familiar with the process."

The Mandalorian doesn’t speak, he simply stares at you until you break your stare first.

Looking down at the grimy table, you trace a piece of graffiti with your finger and whisper, “Thank you.”

Mando shifts his head in askance.

“For saving me from the slave hunter.”

“He wasn’t a slave hunter.” Mando’s helmet tips down to where the bright blue liquid sits on the table. “You going to drink that?”

You shake your head, too self-conscious now.

“Good.”

He slides out from the booth and motions for you to walk ahead of him.

________________________________

Standing in the bay of the Mandalorian’s ship once more, you engage in a staring contest with the little green baby as it sits on the floor. Its ears move like he’s listening to Mando speak on his holocall above in the cockpit, but its eyes remain on you.

You’ve always liked children. While they could be blunt, they were kind to you and other slaves because they hadn’t yet learned any differently.

“How old are you?” You ask softly.

In your experience, children prefer to be spoken to as one would an adult, so you refrain from the baby-voice that springs to the surface when you look at the adorable infant.

He tilts his ears toward you.

“You’re pretty cute." The baby coos, then babbles once.

“You really are cute. And you seem highly intelligent. Have you been with the Mandalorian long? He seems to pick up strays easily,” you smile warmly.

The child awkwardly gets to its feet, toddling toward you. Remembering how quickly Mando had taken the child away when it last interacted with you, you slowly move backward toward the ladder. You don’t know if it's dangerous. Maybe the cuteness is a front.

A gurgling noise, as if it’s trying to tell you something, breaks from its little mouth. He raises his hand, pointing, and you whirl.

The Mandalorian is but a few feet away, watching.

How the kark did he get down the ladder so quietly?

“I’m sorry,” you don’t know what you’re apologizing for.

Mando strides around you and crouches to pick up the baby, “We're leaving this planet. I won't have enough fuel to get across the galaxy, but there is a job a few systems over."

He cradles the child so gently that it makes your heart ache.

Who is this guy?

The child in his arms makes grabby hands at his helmet, so he tenderly sets it back down. Mando heads back toward the cockpit, indicating you should follow.

Up the ladder, sitting once again in the same seat, you keep your eyes on the Mandalorian as he begins the lengthy takeoff procedures.

“The bounty hunter you encountered was not after the slave reward.”

“But she knew my name?”

“I am referring to the Aqualish you punched.”

“Oh.”

The Mandalorian does not immediately continue, focusing on his tasks for several minutes.

“There is a reward out for you,” he flips another switch. “And a bounty.”

“Both? Why both?”

“The bounty is secondary. Dependant on you giving them m-”

A panicked, childish cry echoes from below, and you’re only a moment behind the Mandalorian as he leaps down the hatch to the hold.

You gasp in horror as you see the long-eared, big-eyed baby squished in the crook of another kriffing bounty hunter’s arm. The loading ramp closes slowly behind him. He must’ve jumped in at the last moment.

Mando raises his hands, indicating his desire to negotiate.

“Do not hurt him,” he says. Instead of coming out as a plea, his vocoded words come out as a warning that makes your hair stand on end.

“Din Djarin, you are wanted for the murder of Senator Nesota’s son. I know your reputation, and therefore do not wish to fight. I’ll release your… this," he nods at the green baby, "when you’re in carbonite. There,” the human bounty hunter nods his head at Din’s own carbon freezer.

He killed a Senator’s kid?

The child frowns, his ears drooping, and he focuses hard on the bounty hunter. His little hand curls, and the man’s ruddy face turns purple. His eyes grow red and glassy.

Din reacts quickly, drawing his blaster and firing at the hunter’s face. The man falls with a clattering thunk, and the child rolls away, unmoving.

“No," you cry. "Is he alright?” You start toward the kid, fear in your voice.

“He’s fine,” the Mandalorian replies, holding his palm up for you to stay back. He reverently lifts the unconscious kid. “He’s just asleep.”

The Mandalorian - Din Djarin - murdered an important person’s child. And his own kid just choked someone without using its hands? I didn’t inhale spice, did I?

“You killed a kid?”

Din believes you’re still thinking of the baby in his arms. “I said he’s sleeping.”

“A Senator’s son?”

“Oh. Yes, the Rodian with Salaa.” Din hadn’t known he was the son of a powerful person, but it wouldn’t have mattered.

Relief floods you once again as your evaluation of the Mandalorian’s character remains intact. After seeing the way he cared for the little green one, how could you have believed he would harm any child?

“Okay." You return to the wildest topic, "What just happened with your kid?”

Din sighs. This was getting more dangerous than negotiating with a Tusken. He places the kid in his hammock and shuts the door.

Turning on you, he threatens, “Never speak of him outside this ship.”

“I- I wouldn’t,” you promise, surprised by the fierceness in his voice.

Din is satisfied. He’d watched you speak to his ward earlier, and the kid seems to like you immensely. But he doesn't solely rely on the kid's opinion.

The experienced, Mandalorian bounty hunter's own character assessment is top-notch, and he finds that he feels strongly about you. He doesn't categorize or identify the specifics, however.

The Mandalorian does not ask for your help in removing the dead bounty hunter from his ship, so you look on in silence as he does it alone. He lowers the landing ramp, drags the body to the edge, and watches it roll down unceremoniously. He turns and stalks past you.

“So, where's that job?”

“The Outer Rim.”

You sigh. “Of course it is.”

__________________________________

The planet blinds you when the Razor Crest launches out of hyperdrive. Brilliantly green, the single sun reflects the vibrant landscape right into your eyes.

Shielding your face, you venture a question. The Mandalorian had not finished explaining.

"Why is there a bounty on me?"

Even through the modulator, you can hear his dry tone: "You aided a bounty hunter in entering the Hutt's hideout through false pretenses which ended in the blasting of a Senator's son."

"Right," you frown, slumping in your seat.

"Don't worry. The bounty on my head is far larger than yours."

You scoff under your breath. So reassuring.

A deep breath, then you postulate, "Is that what the bounty hunter was asking me? About you?"

Din doesn't respond. He didn't hear the Aqualish's question. He was too busy aiming at its body with his own, but his best guess is yes.

"That's the reason you saved me," you mutter, oddly dejected.

A loose end. That's what you are.

Din often - almost constantly, actually - appreciated his helmet for the freedom it gave him to show any emotion at any time. No need to worry about a convincing poker face when no one could see it.

"You could have told them where my ship was."

"Except I thought you'd flown away the day before," you argue, saddened that he thought you would’ve talked.

Of course, he didn't know you, and he had a child to protect, but it still stings.

"Why not just kill me?" You wonder seriously.

You're a liability. Two separate prices on your head? The Mandalorian's easiest solution is obvious. A slave of no importance, no one would put a bounty on his head for your death.

Din Djarin's armor clanks as he spins the chair a quarter-turn toward you and he cocks his head.

"I don't want to die," you read his body language correctly. "But I don't understand you."

The Mandalorian silently returns to his piloting duties as he nears the lush planet. He does his best to shut his thoughts away, but he stumbles over you again and again.

Din had rescued you because he didn’t want to see you harmed for his actions with the Hutt. The idea of protecting himself from prying questions had been an afterthought.

He had flown above the city, looking for your trail. Since you hadn’t moved much, there wasn’t much of a trail to find. Then he spotted the crowd roiling and parting for the violent Aqualish.

When he watched it yank your hair, he felt angry. An emotion he experienced less frequently than many of his friends would believe. Frustration, irritation, sure. But true fury was rare for him.

Not wanting you dead was basic decency, but the anger had been interesting.

On some level, Din knows his emotional responses to you deserve greater scrutiny. But he doesn't have the time nor the energy.

When the Razor Crest lands in a grassy clearing between forest walls, Din rises from his chair and commands, “Stay here. Watch the child.”

“O-okay,” you agree hesitantly. “What do I do when he wakes up?”

The Mandalorian stares, uncomprehending.

“You… you don’t do anything for his… condition?”

“I told you he’s fine.” Din thinks for a moment, and remembers there is actually something you should know: “When he wakes up, he might be hungry. Do not let him eat the metal ball on the thruster.”

With that, he climbs down the ladder, and out of sight.

_________________________________

As the fist flies at you, you subconsciously register that your assailant must be right-handed, because this left hook is much sloppier than the other. Or maybe it's because his left arm is still human.

Ducking, you escape the jab and slam your palm-sized stick into the quarry's metal shins. He doesn’t react except to kick your thigh. You cry out, knowing it will bruise if you survive this.

The blaster you had taken from the Mandalorian’s cache lies just out of reach. The silver gleam is stark against the rich soil of the forest floor.

Enraged, the cyborg quarry leaps at your hunched form, knocking you flat. Surprised by his speed, you forget to keep hold of the heavy branch you use as a weapon.

The growling man rips the stick from your hands and slams it against your throat like a vise, choking you, “Die, wretch.”

You turn your head to the side, providing yourself with a precious moment of air before the quarry shifts to cut that escape route off, too.

Swinging your leg up, you kick him in the back of the head, pushing him forward. You take the opportunity to headbutt him - thankful that his head is still completely human - and he falls sideways. Right next to your blaster.

You snatch up your wooden weapon, but it's too late.

He laughs mechanically as he grabs the blaster, swinging it at you. “Too late, sweetheart.”

Panting, you don't raise your hands. If he's going to kill you, he'll do it when you charge him.

You take a step and the sound of a laserblast ricochets through the trees.

The creature cries out, dropping the weapon, his arm useless at his side. Wires spark from the elbow joint that had been blown away.

"Found you," the Mandalorian says flatly, his blaster pointed at the machine.

The metal man lunges but Din fires again - hitting the quarry in what should be its gut. It doubles over, groaning, then topples, fighting for labored breath.

He must still have lungs underneath, you shudder.

Still trying to catch your own breath, you gasp, "How-"

"Heard the fight. You were supposed to stay on the ship," his voice turns scolding.

Clenching your jaw, you finally find a steady breath. You had stayed on the ship. This piece of space junk had broken inside through the cockpit window.

As you sat in the hold, dutifully watching the kid, the sound of glass shattering alerted you that it was not Din who was back so soon. You had snatched up the baby, touching him for the first time with no concern about his potential dangers, locked him in the little room, and ripped a small blaster from the Razor Crest’s weapons cache.

You crouched at the far end of the hold, against the closed boarding ramp, waiting, uncomfortably far from the child.

A cyborg, more spidery-droid than man, with a human head and fleshy left arm had come skittering down, bypassing the ladder completely. Unwilling to chance a blaster shot going through the baby’s door, you hit the button on the landing ramp and scrambled out.

The forest. It was your home. Your element. If there was any chance you could kill it, to prove to yourself that you could survive this life - it was then and there.

Of course, you hadn't expected the quarry to get your blaster.

"I tried," you breathe as Din binds the still-groaning quarry.

The helmet turns to face you, understanding. "He entered the ship?”

You nod, and Din stands bolt-upright, his head whipping in the direction of the Razor Crest.

“It’s fine,” you assure him pointedly, walking with your hand outstretched toward the worried Mandalorian. You remember your promise not to speak of the child, “Your ship is fine. Knew you'd hate it if he trashed the thing, so I ran out here.”

The Mandalorian visibly relaxes his broad shoulders, and your heart tugs once again.

"Thank you," Din says with hidden feeling.

His sincerity wedges a lump in your throat.

He really loves that little guy.

Din turns and snatches the connector between the binders, pulling the quarry. Its metal feet dig trenches as it tries to stall, but the Mandalorian is far too strong.

Somehow, it's the first time you've truly noticed. Din is extremely strong. Is it the suit?

Can't be. It's just metal and fabric.

The realization might as well be a thunderbolt to your brain. Your assailant must weigh as much as a land speeder, and here your bounty hunter was carting him along like a sack of starfruit.

An unfamiliar feeling, something like hot, sharp sparks shoot through your stomach. Your eyes follow the Mandalorian as he makes his way back to the Razor Crest.

Is this attraction? You’ve never experienced it. Far too busy surviving, wanting someone in that way is a foreign concept to you. You roll your eyes at yourself. Din Djarin, a kriffing Mandalorian bounty hunter is not going to look twice at a slave, and it's best to kill those feelings before they take root.

***

Across the large clearing, at the ship, the bounty hunter waits patiently while the boarding ramp lowers.

“She yours?” The quarry asks curiously, his voice wheezing. "You orbited me like a karking moon, but as soon as I go after her, you come runnin’.” It laughs.

The cyborg doesn't expect a verbal answer; he wants a reaction.

Din turns his head slowly with a cold warning, “I would advise you to stop speaking.”

“I damaged her pretty good for you. Might wanna che-” his taunting words end in a pained grunt when Din slams his fist into the man’s cruel mouth.

Surprised by the sudden violence, you inhale sharply. Din hadn’t knocked the thing unconscious, so what was the point of that?

The Mandalorian hauls the creature up the ramp and shoves him into the carbon freezer.

“Should’ve killed me,” the cyborg threatens with a laugh as he freezes into a solid mass.

Din turns to face you and asks in a low voice, “Are you injured?”

The rush of adrenaline you had been riding on slowly fades, and you remember the only blow you’d received had been the one to the side of your thigh. Your hand falls to it, feeling the area through your tattered pants.

A small amount of blood comes away on your fingers.

“Oh,” you murmur.

You pull up the ripped, baggy material, exposing your entire leg. The skin had split with the force of the blow, but there’s no serious damage and it would heal on its own.

The cyborg must’ve been trying to unnerve us. Or distract the Mandalorian? Maybe he thought Din would check right away, you almost laugh aloud at the ridiculous idea.

Din, for his part, really wishes you would let your pant leg fall. It’s insane, it makes no sense to him. Millions of people walked around in far, far less clothing than you, and Din never reacted like this.

But here you stand before him, slowly checking out the inch-long cut on your mid-thigh, and the Mandalorian can’t tear his eyes away.

When you look up at the helmet of Din Djarin, he fixes his face as though you could actually see the way his lips had parted. You fleetingly, timidly, smile at him and, miraculously, let go of the flowy pant leg.

Released from the spell, Din exhales and makes his way to the child’s room.

“You can use the refresher to clean that, if you’d like.” He does not look at you as he speaks.

“Is the baby okay?”

Din need not answer as the child himself murmurs in happiness at the sight of the two of you. To Din’s abject shock, the kid lifts his hands toward you.

You laugh once, flattered. “Can I?”

Din simply turns sideways so that you can fit between him and the hull wall. You reach for the child and it snuggles into your arms, touching your chin.

A brilliant smile lights your face.

“Are we friends now?” You whisper to him.

The baby babbles a response you’ll take as an affirmative.

“I’ve not asked. What’s his name?” You turn your still-smiling face up to Din.

Again thanking the Mythosaur for his helmet, he stares, stuck on your glowing expression as you cradle his ward. His brown eyes swim with an emotion he’s never felt.

“I don't know.”

Taken aback, you realize that there is a far deeper story here.

Did he steal this baby?

You move on quickly, “What do you call him?”

Din shrugs. “Kid.”

The child makes a cooing sound, then reaches for the Mandalorian. You hand the baby to his stoic guardian, and your smile changes to a satisfied one.

“He looks like he belongs there,” you laugh. Then your eyebrows pull together as you regret the too-comfortable comment.

He’s a bounty hunter, a killer, and he may or may not have stolen this fuzzy, long-eared infant.

And you’re just a runaway slave.

You back up a step, feeling awkward now. “You said I could use the ‘fresher?”

Din simply nods his head in the direction of the tiny facility.

When you've shut the door, Din's body relaxes.

***

But not for long. He didn't account for the sound of your clothes hitting the floor and the sound of the sonics. You are steps away, unclothed, and some wild instinct inside him awakens. Ashamed, he sets the child back in the hammock and climbs up to the cockpit to relieve himself.

_________________________________

The planet is purple. Dark and cloudy, the yellow, green, and blue street lights cast strange shadows. Neon signs of every shade flash from every corner. You've been to thousands of cities like this one. An underworld.

The Mandalorian landed the Razor Crest on the outskirts despite there being a busy spaceport made for that purpose. He transported the carbonite body of the cyborg to the edge of the city where he was met by some anonymous creature in a cloak. He asked no questions.

Din had entrusted you with the care of the child. He directed you and the kid to go on ahead to one of the less-reputable inns. The worse-looking, the better. People were more likely to mind their business.

You've found the perfect one. Din wanted seedy, he was getting the seediest. After all, most of your tasks as a slave had been spent in this environment since your masters hated to be seen in them.

But seedy didn't always mean crumbling and derelict.

Din, having tracked the child's chain code, returns later that night. His eyebrows rise at the size of the room.

"I said find an inconspicuous place to hide. You got the emperor's suite," he places his hands on his hips.

There are technically three rooms: the main living space, complete with couch, table, and a space to prepare food; and two small bedrooms both on the same side of the building.

"It was their only available room. Trust me, this place is as disreputable as they come. And he didn't upcharge," you rise from the couch. "If that was what you were worried about. I… made a deal with the clerk."

Din advances on you, "A deal?" His voice is tight.

"I didn’t involve you. I promise."

The Mandalorian clenches his teeth. Anything involving you, involves him.

"The kid?"

You tilt your chin across the apartment and laugh, "He wanted the room with all the toys.”

Din disappears into the room, and you chuckle at how long the child had been fascinated by the weird sculptures inside.

A low, rasping voice travels from the open door, "Hey, kid. Missed you, too."

Your smile deepens and your heart swells with emotion toward the two of them. Though they are not your family, it's comforting to watch them be one.

The modulated voice sounds again with a short laugh, "She can't hear you. Do you want her?"

You shake your head fondly, the kid had been babbling and reaching for you every time you set him down.

After a significant pause, Din softly admits, "I agree. I like her, too."

Flushing with shame for eavesdropping, you move to the far side of the apartment, to another large window.

Several minutes later, quiet footsteps get louder as Din leaves the child's room and closes the door.

"He tried to lift one of the sculptures," Din scoffs.

You laugh, picturing the child peacefully sleeping after tiring himself with the effort. It wasn't the first time today. Growing serious, you turn to face the Mandalorian.

"He helped me today. Someone grabbed at me and he… did what he does."

Din takes two huge strides toward you. "Did anyone see? What happened?"

"No one saw. It was in a closed alley. I-" you pause in momentary reluctance, then remember who you're talking to. "I took care of it."

You glance at the blaster on the table that Din had given you earlier that morning.

For the first time in a long time, Din's sigh is one of relief instead of irritation.

"Thank you," he says. "Again."

You wave him off, "It was between a scumsucker and the kid. Wasn't exactly hard," you try to make light of it.

Din shakes his head slightly. "I've seen you use a blaster. I'm glad the kid was there," he deadpans.

You exhale in feigned irritation, pleased by his playfulness.

He comes to stand next to you at the open window, and the peaceful silence is companionable.

As the breeze flutters, you shiver noticeably and his torn, rough cape curls into your ankle. The Mandalorian turns his head to you and reads how low your heat signature is.

Din stalks back to the entryway where he had set down a cloth bag. He snatches it up and brings it over to you.

"I hope they are acceptable."

Hands outstretched, you freeze as you realize you're being given a gift. You blink and look up, desperately trying to read a face you know you can't.

"Um, I've never -" you whisper, needing to tell him why you look like you've been struck. "Never had someone give me something."

Inside his beskar armor, Din grimaces. Had he overstepped? It might get even worse when you see how personal the items are.

He releases his hold on the bag and you open it, pulling out a pair of clothes. They're dark blue, and, while somewhat flowy like your current clothes, these do not have holes, stains, nor bad memories associated.

And they are a gift from Din Djarin.

How do you thank him for these? They certainly weren't cheap. The clothing is sturdy but light, beautiful but practical.

Embarrassingly, tears collect in your eyes.

"Oh, wow," you look up at him, panicking. "I can't take these." It was too much.

Din has an excuse in his arsenal.

"Take it as payment for your help with the kid."

You look back down at the material in your hands, rubbing the soft fabric.

"Thank you, Din. Really. I- I don't know how to thank you. You have been so kind to me."

His cheek pulls upward when you say his name for the first time. How sweet it sounds in your mouth.

"You needed them. These," he waves at the shredded scraps on your frame, "are no longer clothes."

You smile timidly, unused to being treated so well. "I'm going to go take them off and burn them."

The Mandalorian taps his vambrace. "I have the means when you're ready."

"Thank you again," you murmur, escaping to the refresher.

Din steps to the center of the room and places a hologram disk on the low table.

While you're busy, he's going to figure out how to get out of this.

***

After an actual shower, real water loosening the knots in your muscles, you exhale in pleasure at the feeling of the clean, well-made clothing on your skin. You feel like a person.

It's similar to seeing hyperspace for the first time. It scares you with how good it feels, knowing you’ve missed out on so much.

You slide open the refresher door to see Din seated on the couch, facing away from you. He sits reclined, his legs spread wide. The Mandalorian hears the door open, but he does not turn.

Stomach growling, you head to the cold storage near the front door. The box of food you'd bought from a vendor sits on the countertop. You unpack it carefully, still in disbelief you can eat whatever you want.

"Are you hungry?" You call to the Mandalorian as you continue to pull items from the box.

"You are no longer a slave. You do not have to serve me." The deep, rough voice sounds from right behind you, and you jump in surprise.

"Dank farrik, you move quietly."

Din reaches around you for one of the fruits you had purchased with his credits. His nearness has your body tensing, but he backs away almost immediately.

"How do you eat with that on?" You wonder, clearly meaning his helmet.

"I don't," he answers, walking into the other bedroom.

***

A week passes in that calm hotel apartment. The child provided more than enough entertainment for you, attempting to lift different objects of his desire at random.

For Din, so used to the child's antics, you are the object of his attention. You brush it off when he stands near you at the window, when he ensures that you have something to eat, and when he silently takes the couch over the comfortable bed.

But you're unable to ignore his touch.

Just after you wake, the dual suns begin to peek around the tall city buildings. Trying not to wake Din on the couch, you tiptoe to the window in the main room, still enthralled with the city view. You’ve seen cities thousands of times throughout your enslavement, often imagining running away to explore. Now that you have the opportunity, you find that you don’t want to go.

Seated on the bare floor, your arms wrapped around your knees as you watch the suns rise, you're wandering down halls of your own thoughts when a voice drifts into your consciousness.

"I will get your bounty lifted."

Turning your head, Din leans forward on the couch, his forearms on his knees.

"If that's what you are concerned about."

You shake your head, "I'm not concerned. I think I'm happy."

You had just come to that conclusion a moment earlier. It's an emotion you don't remember feeling. It's like your lungs are expanding after twenty years of suffocation.

You look back at the city and smile contentedly, "This is the best my life has been."

The admission is extremely personal, but you can’t keep it to yourself. It’s liberating. You weren't ready to fight for your freedom when the Mandalorian came for your master, but you are now.

Din’s footsteps advance on you until he’s standing off to your right. He says nothing.

After an interminable length of time, wondering what he’s doing, you twist and look up at him. His helmet turns toward the window just as you face him.

His hands are folded behind him, but a sliver of something flesh-toned is visible.

Is that his wrist?

Your stomach drops. His bare skin. It looks warm-toned and soft. You close your eyes and turn away, back toward the window.

“I am glad,” Din says.

“About what?” Since it has been several minutes since either of you have spoken, you’re unsure if he’s responding or making a statement.

He simply looks back down at you as if that answers your question.

“We’ll be leaving today,” Din continues to study you, appreciating the way the orange dawn lights your face. “You’ve almost drained me of credits with this palace of a hotel.”

You deny the accusation with a laugh, “I did not. I told you I made a deal.”

“And you have not told me what that deal was,” he says, a hint of a threat in his tone.

Din is on edge about your ‘deal.’ The night before, he had gone down to the reception desk to intimidate the clerk about it, but the employee you’d dealt with hadn’t been there.

“I promised you already - it has nothing to do with you or him,” you motion toward the child’s room. “It is not worth your attention.”

Din scowls. “You are also under my charge, and if you’ve placed yourself in danger, I need to be aware of it.”

Your face snaps up, uselessly trying to make eye contact with him. His charge? Why does your face feel hot at those words?

Finally taking pity on him, you answer, “He was a gambler. I bet him I could win more rounds of sabacc. And I did.”

The Mandalorian is stock-still. That was all? Din had gotten incredibly worked up over what you could possibly owe this mysterious desk clerk, and all you’d done was a bit of hustling?

“Why would you not tell me that right away?”

“I didn’t want to seem like I was bragging,” you frown. Din had tasked you with something and you had wanted to complete it with as little fanfare as possible.

“What other skills have you been hiding?” Din’s tone is half-mocking, half-serious. He knows next to nothing about you despite the monopoly you’ve had on his thoughts.

You side-eye him, unsure of his intention. “I can do basic ship repairs. I can speak four languages. I know how to fight.”

“I am not convinced of that last one.”

“The cyborg caught me on a bad day,” you protest.

"It was fortunate you were not seriously injured. I wouldn't have the credits for this," he nods his head up at the high ceiling.

For the second time, your head turns to scrutinize him, but he’s as impenetrable as ever.

"Why not?"

Din's silver face snaps down to you. "The quarry would not have made it into the carbon freezer."

And as you open your mouth - to say what, you have no idea - a quiet knock raps on the front door.

Spooked, you whirl so that you face the door, still seated.

“It’s alright,” Din’s deep, rough voice soothes.

When he holds out his hand to help you stand, you take it without second thought.

But it wasn’t just a hint of his wrist that you saw - his gloves are completely off. His rough palm slides into your grasp, and his thick fingers close around your hand.

Eyes widening, you audibly gasp.

Din raises you to your feet with no effort, and you wind up far too close to him. Your breath fogs on his chestplate, and your pulse thrums in your ears.

Too-quickly, his thumb rubs your skin, and then he releases your hand. Do you imagine the sigh he makes as he steps away?

Your eyes are glued to his broad form as he retrieves his gloves from the couch, then heads to answer the door.

“Should I -?” You whisper.

“Stay,” he says simply.

It’s unbelievable how one word could affect you. You swallow hard and clasp your hands together in front of you.

***

“As you are well aware, Mandalorian, my esteemed patron was unhappy to hear about her son’s death. However, you are of concern to us for a different reason. If we are able to reward you for your silence regarding where her son was at the time of his unfortunate, accidental death, this business might be put behind us.”

The slimeball flashes her biggest smile at the bounty hunter.

“What am I being paid to be silent about? The Hutt was banished by the Republic due to his slavery connections. Is the Senator afraid of her choice in friends being known?”

The emissary smiles nastily. “Let us say that the Hutt is also on my list of individuals to speak with.”

“I require explicit terms regarding this agreement. I am a Mandalorian, I can assure you of my discretion.”

“Very well. You will not divulge the conversation regarding slavery you overheard between the Senator’s son and Salaa the Hutt, and we shall reward you with twenty-thousand credits to be paid over the course of three months.”

To your horror, Din rises from the couch and nods his head, saying, “I accept your terms.”

“And what about her?” The emissary wrinkles her nose as she indicates you.

“She is a slave,” the Mandalorian says with harsh finality.

You physically shrink next to him. He had insisted you remain while they spoke, but now you’re regretting agreeing to it.

The distaste with which he had uttered the word ‘slave’ makes you feel unclean, unwanted. Tears threaten to spill over, and you keep your head down in a familiar, submissive posture in case they do.

The bounty hunter escorts the Twi’lek emissary to the door while you sit, head bowed, on the couch.

“Senator Nesota will be most appreciative. If you are ever in Coruscant, she would be delighted to have you visit her apartments. They are most grand.” She disapprovingly glances around the hotel room. “I assume you had your slave pick this one.” The emissary briefly places her hand on the Mandalorian’s forearm, “Remember, we are friends now, Din Djarin.”

The helmet saves his entire operation, for Din cannot stop the disgusted scowl that mars his face. This piece of scum uses his name to both threaten and flirt; the difference in his feelings between her saying it and you saying it are blindingly stark.

“I do not have friends. My name is not for your use,” he says evenly as he punches the button for the front door.

The emissary walks away without another word.

When Din closes the door, he turns back to you with a sense of relief for more than one reason.

But something is wrong.

“Do you not feel well?”

You shake your head, “I misunderstood something. That’s all.” Your head remains bowed.

“You will not look at me.”

“I am… embarrassed,” you mutter honestly.

An emotion Din has never experienced or understood, he is at a loss. Instead, he sits across from you and tosses you the recorder.

The small, comm-looking device lands on your lap, and you pick it up, curiously rolling it in your hands. You press the button.

“Very well. You will not divulge the conversation regarding slav-”

You stop the device and look up at Din with renewed hope, “You were lying.”

Din leans forward in his seat, “I was not lying. I gave her my word as a Mandalorian. But you didn’t.”

“That’s a stretch and you know it,” you laugh.

Din shrugs. The moral reasoning works for him.

“I am to send this recording to the Republic, correct? Get the senator removed from office?”

“She will no longer have the funds to pay our bounties. They will be considered void.”

Your smile falters. He had done what he promised.

Din tilts his head, “You’re unhappy about that?”

“It’s not your problem, of course. But I have to deal with the slaver’s reward. And… and I am not sure what I should do, where I should go.”

Really, you’re saddened because there is no longer any reason for you to stay. You wish there was.

The Mandalorian is silent, weighing his choice of words carefully.

"There is room on the Razor Crest. The kid is fond of you. I can pay you for your services to him. And, occasionally, the ship needs repairs - you can assist me with those.”

“Is this that ‘legal employment’ you told me I needed?” You grin. “I would like that very much.”

“You will need to learn how to fight, though,” he shakes his head, his tone teasing. “The kid can’t save you every time.”

____________________________________

You sit on the hold floor, the child in your arms. Having left the inn rather early, the child is still asleep.

Jostling as Din lands the Razor Crest on a new planet, you slowly stand and place the little lump in his hammock and shut the door.

The Mandalorian drops down into the hold, passing you and hitting the button for the boarding ramp. Deciding to trust him, you don't ask where you're being taken.

The answer isn't far. Din stops right at the treeline and hands you the same silver blaster from the previous week's fight with the cyborg.

"You need to learn to use it."

"I've done well with a blaster before," you protest. "I shot Rathos."

"But you didn't shoot the cyborg," you can hear the frown in his deep voice. "Pick a tree."

Nervous to be evaluated by a master of the craft, you hesitate briefly before aiming at a massive trunk a few speeders lengths away.

The plate of his armor brushes against your back as the Mandalorian gingerly sets his heavy hands on your shoulders, straightening them. With his boot, he taps the inside of your foot, indicating you should widen your stance.

You blink rapidly. Your face flushes with warmth. Why is your heart thundering? Can he hear it?

He can.

His own heart rate increases when his helmet's display shows your heat signature rising. Din pushes it further: his leather-covered hands slide down to your waist where he turns you a fraction - completely unnecessarily.

Close enough that, were he unveiled, you could feel his breath, he murmurs, "Fire."

Utterly distracted, you squeeze the trigger as a matter of following his command. The blaster shot continues on through the treetops, singeing leaves.

Din straightens, his hands leaving your body, and he huffs.

"You distracted me," you explain. "I can hit it."

You realign the weapon and inhale deeply, releasing on the exhale just as you would with an arrow.

The tree sizzles as you hit it dead-center.

Spinning to face him triumphantly, the smile freezes on your lips.

One of the suns on this planet has begun to drop behind him, and his large frame casts you in shadow. He still hasn't moved away from you. The way his mask is angled toward you makes you believe he's lost in thought.

"What is it?" You whisper in the tense silence.

Din feels dizzy. You're a natural with a weapon you'd fired all of three times. Your words cudgel his mind. He had distracted you enough to miss a huge karking tree.

"Do it again."

You nod and return to the target. Throwing your mind back to your childhood, you once again hit the tree dead-on.

Weighing the blaster in your hand, you turn back to him and say, "I still prefer wooden weapons. Or at least something resembling a spear."

"Why is that?" His voice is rough, and his hands find a home on his hips.

"That's how I grew up," you answer.

"Okay. Grab one."

Your mouth drops open in confusion, but he finally leaves your personal space and picks up a slender, twigless branch.

"You can't be serious," you sputter a laugh, certain he had just found a sense of humor. "I'm not fighting you."

"Why not?"

"Um. Because I can't."

"You can." He holds the stick out toward you.

You stare at him, watchful, as you curl your fingers around it. Din removes a small, cylindrical object from his utility belt. He pumps it once and it unfolds into a thin cane-like weapon.

"It's been twenty years," you frown. "You're going to win."

But, when that makeshift spear is in your hand, it all rushes back. The key to winning is in gaining ground. Whatever you do, push your opponent back. So, you launch at him first.

Only partially surprised by the speed of the typically-timid girl now coming for his throat, Din manages to duck out of the way just in time. But you whirl to the opposite side he expects, and swing your weapon into his helmet. It clangs, and you stand upright.

"I'm sorry!" You react, fearful both from years of mistreatment and not wanting to hurt Din.

He ignores you, swishing his weapon toward your middle, and you jump backward. Hating that you conceded even that little ground, you quickly drop to a crouch and sweep at his knees like Rathos did to you.

Din rockets upward a few feet, then drops back down on your other side. He swings at you and you parry.

Dancing for several steps, you eventually land a blow to his ribs where the beskar does not cover. Din's modulated groan makes you feel a rush of two separate emotions.

You don't want to hurt him, but that sound ignites a heat between your legs.

Din retaliates, kicking his tipless spear into your chest and shoving you backward. He knows your move, now. You don't like giving up ground, so you'll throw yourself at him, arms raised to strike.

When you do exactly as he predicts, he drops his weapon completely, grabbing you around the waist and spinning. He throws you to the ground, coming down on top of you.

You laugh, exhilarated, "Almost."

Something is jabbing your hip, and when you shift to identify it, Din grunts again. Your eyes shoot to his hidden face.

Under the helmet, Din's brown eyes are blown, pained at how aroused he is. He can't handle much more of this. Your wide eyes and galloping heart match his, but underneath him you look so vulnerable that he feels downright predatory. His stiff length twitches.

Din’s voice is raw, barely contained, "Tell me to stop and I will." His gloved thumbs push your bottoms down.

Speechless, your core pulsing, you nod.

Din unfastens the material around his middle, pulls his desperate cock from the flight suit, and hastily positions himself against you. Your slick coats him as he drags himself through your folds. He groans through the modulator.

“Oh,” you gasp when he eases the tip past your entrance.

Unable to wait a moment longer, Din sheaths himself inside you with a determined grunt, his patch of dark curls mingling with yours.

Your hands try to fist in his flight suit, eyes wide at the incredible feeling of him filling you. His right hand cradles your jaw as he starts to rock his hips, cursing as he does so.

For the first time in his life, Din resents his helmet; both for the separation from your soft skin, and the heightened senses it gives him. How is he supposed to last when he can see your heart racing, hear your quiet cries as though they’re inside his own head?

In an insufficient compromise, he rips off his gloves. His tan skin is calloused and scarred.

“Yes,” you plead.

Din intertwines his fingers on both hands with yours, hypnotized for a precious second by the intimacy. Reverently, you press a kiss to his knuckles. He makes a wild sound deep in his chest, then plunges your hands above your head.

Pushing your chest to his, you signal that he can do anything he wants to you. He collects both your wrists in one hand.

Din rhythmically arcs into you, the sound of his body - soaked from your arousal - striking yours nearly driving you insane. When you’d imagined it before, you wondered if looking into the blank face of his helmet might be off-putting, but you find that it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because it’s him. If anything, it’s erotic to trust him so blindly.

Din is resolved to know your body better than you do. With his free hand, his fingers nimbly massage your clit until you jerk.

“There?” He confirms.

You nod, unable to speak. His heavy, straining cock dragging through you, and his rough fingers replace the output from all other senses.

When he finds the perfect combination, he doesn’t let up until your eyes screw shut and you shake, incoherent underneath him in ecstasy.

“You can say it,” he hoarsely encourages through the modulator.

It was already on your lips, “Din.”

The hand that acted as a manacle releases you as he places his palm on the ground, giving himself as much leverage to bury himself as deep as possible. The toes of Din’s boots dig up clumps of grass as he thrusts into you, the sound of skin slapping skin lost in the breeze. Your legs curl around his waist, pulling him deeper.

He feels the spark at the base of his spine and knows he doesn’t have much strength left. Your fingers twist into the fabric of his flight suit again, clinging to him for all you’re worth.

Din makes the mistake of looking into your lust-filled eyes as you speak.

“Let go,” you whisper tenderly, feeling his tense body begin to fracture.

Din has no choice but to obey you, pumping himself into you with a long, harsh sigh. He works his release inside you, gradually slowing until his arms shake.

He finally drops to the ground beside you, breathing rapidly.

Suddenly shy, you want nothing more than to reach over and take one of his hands, but you lack the confidence. You also don’t know what to say.

Din doesn’t believe there’s anything to say. He had never been so tempted in all his life, and he had not passed the test. A shred less self-control and his helmet might’ve followed the gloves.

In fact, the temptation is still so strong that he begins to plan for its eventuality.

____________________________________

#din djarin #my fics #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #star wars #star wars fanfic #din djarin fanfic #din djarin fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #Spotify #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #grogu #baby yoda #my writing

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rickgrimeswifey · 2 years ago

Text

Overheard gossip pt.2 - Spencer Reid

—————————————————————————————

Category: Smut with plot

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Season: 3 ish

Warnings: Unprotected p in v sex, cursing, tension all over the place, sub!virgin!Spencer

Word count: 2.6k

—————————————————————————————

The same night as the incident the team flew back to the headquarters. Y/n knew they’d arrive late so when her shift was over she hurried home. She couldn’t face Spencer, she didn’t dare too. She knew he’d never confront her or tell anyone else what she said because he was too shy and embarrassed about it. But that didn’t change the fact that Y/n was dying from the embarrassment she was feeling.

The week after that day went by fast. Y/n succeeded in avoiding Spencer at work, every time she saw him she’d simply take a different direction in where she was going. Sure, she might’ve been late to some meetings because of it but that was a price she could pay.

It all went well until there was another case about a week and a half later after the incident. Hotch wanted Y/n to come along for this one as she was feeling better now. They were all called to their meeting room where JJ was going to present the case for them. Y/n walked in and took a seat being the first one to arrive along with JJ. Spencer wasn’t anywhere to be seen meaning he was late. The rest of the team took their seats and left the one in front of Y/n empty. If something that's karma for avoiding him.

“Sorry I’m late!” Spencer's stressed and soft voice was heard as he entered the room.

“It’s fine. Just don’t let it happen again.” Hotch warned, not looking up from the file he was reading.

He took the seat in front of Y/n and sat down. Swallowing thickly when they made eye contact, he was nervous. Of course he was, Y/n didn’t think of just how innocent he was. She had ruined this man with her simple words. When she saw Spencer blush she couldn’t help but to blush herself, she knew this meant that they’d have to talk about it sometime. Once JJ was done presenting the case and the team was about to board the jet, Y/n hurried out of the room to grab her bag that was packed and ready to go.

The ride over to Springfield, Missouri was fine. The team went over the information they already had and yet sat in her seat against the wall with Derek beside her. His body shielding off the view of Reid. Before they landed Hotch spoke up;

“So we’re probably going to stay over here a night or two as you all know, catching a serial killer like this isn’t easy with the little information we’ve got to go off. I’ve already made roommates for the hotel rooms. Morgan you’re with Prentiss. JJ you’re on your own. I’m with Rossi and L/n you’re with Reid.”

Y/n’s eyes widened, what did he just say? Now all she could do was pray they solved this case today so that she didn’t need to be alone in a room with Spencer. Y/n couldn’t switch rooms either because Hotch wouldn’t allow it and it would be mean to Spencer. She thought about this room situation until the jet landed becoming more and more anxious about it.

The day went by fast at the police station they set up their clues and got to work at. They had found out some minor stuff but not a name or anything that could tell a location. They’d run down a deadend and it was time to wrap up for today.

Once the team got to the hotel they all split separate ways to go to their rooms. Y/n and Spencer got into an elevator that no one else seemed to be coming into. She cursed to herself mentally, why did the universe want to punish her this much? The ride up to their floor was awkward, she could feel Spencer's breath on her since the elevator was insanely small, only making her stress more and more. They got out of the elevator and went to their room, both of them equally stressed about this situation. Both of them had their key card in their hand more than ready to get into the room and go to bed. Once they reached the door both of the two reached out their hands at the same time to look up the door, only making their hands collide. With her hand over his she began blushing even more. Being the first one to remove her hand after some time before she apologized quickly;

“Sorry…”

They entered the room and Y/n thanked god for the separate single beds. Y/n opened her bag to reach for her stuff for the bathroom.

“Is it okay with you if I use the bathroom first?” She asked, turning to look at him.

All she saw when she turned around was Spencer sitting awkwardly on his bed with his cheeks flushed pink. She had broken this man, he would never be able to speak properly to her ever again. That theory was confirmed when he nodded before turning his attention away quickly to something else.

Y/n took a quick shower, brushed her teeth and then changed before going out into the room again. Spencer was sitting on his bed reading some book she’d probably never heard of before.

“Bathroom’s free” Y/n informed quickly before she went back to her bag so that she could put away her stuff once again.

She heard Spencer walk away to the bathroom and close the door softly behind him, gosh she had really screwed this one up for herself. After a couple of minutes Spencer came out of the bathroom, she noticed he’d change into what she assumed he’d be sleeping in. Y/n got under the covers and texted Penelope about the situation before turning off her phone and getting to bed. She didn’t pay much mind to Spencer as she turned off her bedside table light and snuggled up in the plush hotel bed.

“Don’t you think it’s weird?” She heard Spencer ask.

“What?” Y/n mumbled, too tired to turn around and turn her light on again.

“That we have found next to zero clues on this unsub, it’s almost like this person has been planning the murders they’re committing their entire life…” he explained.

“There’s a theory… Maybe it’s true, but there wasn't anything we could find since the unsubs childhood. I have no clue how they’d be able to hide that too.”

“Maybe we’re missing something…” Spencer speculated, wondering what it was they’d missed.

“I don’t know Spencer. Just turn off your light and go to bed.” Y/n debated with him.

Not a protest was heard coming from his side before Y/n heard the click of the lamp. Next morning Spencer had already occupied the bathroom before his colleague had the chance to wake up. All she could think about was their chat from last night, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. Y/n sat up in the bed and slid the covers off her body. She stretched before standing up and collecting the clothes she was going to wear today. Spencer came out of the shower with his hair semi-wet. The way it laid on his head and over his face made him look like a wet dog. He clearly hadn’t touched it since he got out of the shower. Without thinking Y/n placed her clothes on the bed and walked up to him.

“Let me help you…” she mumbled, face to face with Spencer while reaching up to his hair.

Spencer stood still as Y/n began running her fingers through his towel dried hair, she separated it and placed it into the way it usually lays on him. When she was done she looked into his eyes and smiled.

“Much better.”

Spencer nodded at her shyly before Y/n went into the bathroom with her clothes in her arms. The day at work went by fast, the team found out some stuff about the killer that could help them catch him. The killer was an organized, very smart, narcissist individual. They had gotten a name but it was a dead-end which meant that they’d have to stay over another night. Once they got back to the hotel room Y/n threw herself down onto her bed, frustrated that they couldn’t catch this guy. Spencer just kinda stood awkwardly in front of her, watching as she groaned loudly out of frustration. With her head laid against the pillow she looked at Spencer, wanting his opinion she asked;

“Do you think we’ll catch him? Or is he too smart for us?”

He raised an eyebrow at Y/n, not liking her statement. She saw and caught on to what he meant.

“I’m sorry, you’re obviously smarter than him... I just meant that he just planned all of this so well that we can’t find anything. It’s so annoying.” She sighed heavily.

“You need to think about something else to get your mind off this, you’re driving yourself crazy Y/n.” Spencer explained, now starting to not be able to stand still.

She watched him move his body back and forth. Swaying up and down with his feet. He was obviously also thinking of something that bothered him, you could tell by his body language that he was nervous.

“What’s on your mind?” Y/n rolled onto her side and looked at him quizzically.

Spencer looked straight into her eyes, now being completely still as she’d caught him. He vaguely shook his head meaning that it’s nothing.

“Don’t do that. Tell me, come sit here.” She told him, patting on the bed in front of her legs.

He hesitated before slowly making his way over to her. Spencer sat down in front of her knees, looking over at her nervously.

“What’s going on Spencer?”

“Did you … said … Garcia…” he mumbled inaudible.

“What? I can’t hear you.” She said, wanting him to speak up.

He blushed at her words and Y/n felt bad for him. He is so innocent, she thought to herself.

“What you said to Garcia…” He said loud enough for her to hear. Spencer noticed that she did by the look of embarrassment on her face. “Did… did you mean it?”

Y/n looked at him bashfully. Since she didn’t know what he wanted her to say, she decided to just tell him the truth.

“Yes, I did.”

Spencer swallowed thickly and looked around the room, Y/n wanted nothing else but to ease his nervousness.

“What is making you so nervous?” She asked, she didn’t mean to but it kind of just slipped out.

He put his hand on his lap, sitting as tense as ever in front of her. “Uh- That subject… I don’t know. I- I just… I don’t know…” Spencer stammered.

“You’re inexperienced are you?” Y/n asked, finally getting the hang of his nervousness.

Spencer looked her way and nodded slowly. Of course she’d heard Derek tease Spencer but she didn’t think too much into it.

“Do you want me to make you less nervous?” She asked, raising an eyebrow at him while smirking.

He turned to her and asked;

“What do you mean?”

Y/n sat up and leaned in so that her lips were just hovering over his.

“You want me to show you that this is nothing to be nervous about?” She took his hand up to his cheek and caressed it with the softest touch possible.

The only thing heard from Spencer was a little whimper.

“Tell me Spencer…” she whispered, sliding her hand from his cheek to his neck.

“Yes, I really do Y/n.”

And with that she closed the gap in between them and kissed him softly. Spencer was the first one to deepen the kiss. Y/n guided his hand to her waist where it rested while she kissed him a little harder. After a minute Spencer was the first one to pull away, he needed air. Y/n looked at him, his lips were red and swollen. She lowered him onto the bed so that he was laying on it before she swung her leg over his body and sat on his hips. She leant down and pecked him on the lips before she whispered in his ear;

“Is this okay?”

Spencer whimpered as she moved down to kiss his neck before he managed to get out a small “yes”. Y/n began grinding on his growing bulge which made both of their breathing heavier.

“Are you sure you want this?” She asked caressing his chest while sitting on him.

He groaned beneath her as she began grinding a little faster. “Yes, I’m sure.” He whined.

Y/n leaned down and kissed his swollen lips once again. This time the kiss was more heated and sloppier as she continued grinding harshly against his hard dick. Spencer tried to keep the little moan he was going to let out in by biting on his lower lip, but Y/n stopped him immediately.

“I wanna hear you, don’t do that.”

She continued kissing his lips, jaw and neck while she unbuckled his belt. Y/n easily slid the belt off and then she removed her dress shirt. She continued undressing both her and Spencer until they were completely naked. He gawked at her tits as she hovered over his dick.

“This might feel a little weird at first. Okay Spencer?”

He nodded and soon let out a moan as she slid down his length. Which she by the way was right about. His dick was big, nothing you’d expect on his tall skinny body. Y/n groaned as she began slowly bouncing up and down on Spencer's dick. The guy beneath her was a whimpering and moaning mess. His hands began roaming her body as he was unable to lay still from the intense feeling. Y/n had her hands on his chest for steadiness as his hands found her boobs. She gasped when Spencer’s hand flicked over her nipple.

“Shit, do that again.” She breathed out while speeding up her pace on his dick.

Spencer was coming close, his ability to speak was long gone. He had his hands on her breasts and he kind of just massaged them as Y/n continued bouncing up and down, now far more aggressive than before. He was just coming closer and closer even though they had barely even started. Y/n realized that virgins didn’t last long, she saw in Spencer's eyes that he had no idea what was happening.

“Don’t worry- oh fuck… it’s supposed to feel that way…” she moaned out feeling his dick hitting the right spot on and on again.

Y/n sped up the pace, chasing her own release. Spencer squeezed her tits harshly as his cum shot up into her. She moaned loudly, feeling the warmth in her stomach. Spencer’s hands slid down from her boobs to her legs where they rested as he was exhausted. She knew she couldn’t keep fucking him for too long because he’d be overstimulated. Therefore Y/n’s fingers desperately found her clit and began rubbing harsh circles on it. Moaning even louder now until finally after a couple of minutes her thrusts against Spencer became sloppier before she finally came. Her moans were so loud that SPencer actually became concerned for her, it sounded like she almost was in pain. But when he saw her face he knew she was feeling what he had just felt. She collapsed beside him once he softened and slipped out of her.

“How was it?” She asked out of breath.

Spencer looked her way and met her eyes. “It was really good…” he admitted quietly, as if he was still nervous.

Maybe she’d have to show him again that there wasn’t anything to be nervous about…

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#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x you #spencer x y/n #spencer x fem!reader #sub!spencer reid

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