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fayes-fics · 15 days

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Eden

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Seeing you with other Bridgerton offspring has an interesting effect on your new husband...

I couldn't resist using a Season 3 gif cos hello.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, breeding kink, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, vaginal sex, creampie, ie filthy babymaking. Also, the smut is bookended by fluff; yeah, that probably needs a warning, lol.

Word Count: 4.2k

Authors Note: This is a very belated request fill for @victoriaholland (HERE) and Anon (HERE) about Benedict with a touch of baby fever. I decided to combine the asks as I saw a way to weave them together. Sorry for the delay, but well at least babymaking seems appropriate for spring hehe. Thank you to @colettebronte for being an awesome beta, as always. Err, Enjoy! <3

Daphne’s latest child is beautiful; you delight in his joy as he bounces on your lap, learning the strength of his sweetly chubby legs, little fists wrapped tight around your fingers.

Looking up, you catch your husband's eye from afar, his stare intense across the gardens of Bridgerton House as you sit under a tented shelter upon a picnic blanket. The rest of the family are scattered around, playing games or chatting, but you are quite content minding the little one while his nanny takes a few moments to eat lunch.

“Is everything alright, my love?” You inquire as Benedict draws closer.

“Yes… I….” He seems a little flustered.

“Are you sure?”

You pull a funny face for the infant, who breaks out into the most adorable infectious giggles that has you grinning from ear to ear and hugging him into your body, swaying with him.

“Are you alright? Minding the child?” He checks, his voice a touch odd.

“Oh yes. We are more than happy, are we not, my little prince?” You talk in a vaguely silly baby-talk voice, addressing the child in your arms as much as Benedict.

Again, the child peals with delighted noises and spit bubbles enthusiastically, looking up at Benedict eagerly as much as you do.

“Well, that is wonderful news,” he blusters, and you could swear he is out of sorts, breathless almost. “I shall… leave you to it,” he adds, giving you a bow and then withdrawing as the little one wiggles out of your arms.

“Ignore your Uncle Benedict; he is being a silly billy,” you whisper conspiratorially once the man in question is out of earshot.

The response is babbled nonsense as the child bashes one wooden brick against another.

“I quite agree,” you state sagely before breaking into a goofy grin.

——

“Please?” Hyacinth wheedles.

“No, Hy,” you sigh without even looking up.

“Ugh, you are no fun!” she scowls, crossing her arms defiantly.

“What is all this?” Anthony clips as he strides into the drawing room, Benedict on his heels, as Hyacinth flounces dramatically across the room.

“Your little sister is angry at me because I will not allow her to drink the punch; it has brandy in it,” you explain cooly.

“Quite right, too!” Anthony chimes as Hyacinth rolls her eyes.

“Listen to y/n, Hyacinth, and do as she says,” Anthony lectures, and you feel grateful for his support, effectively neutering her rebellion. “Despite a temporary lapse of judgment when choosing a spouse, she is otherwise one of the most sensible people in this family.”

“Hey…!” Benedict protests.

“Please…” Anthony withers, twisting towards him. “Brother, if there is one thing us Bridgerton men know how to do, ‘tis to marry a woman entirely too good for us. And well done on that, by the way.”

You smirk at Anthony’s hilarious way of putting his brother - your husband - in his place, catching Kate’s eye with a wink as she enters the room carrying her baby.

“Y/n, come and meet the future Viscount; he’s awake at last,” she calls to you.

You are immediately on your feet and grinning, taking the tiny bundle from her arms and cooing at the sweet little boy. The baby opens his enormous brown eyes and observes you for a second before breaking into a one-toothed grin and happily waving his fists at you.

“Oh, he really likes you!” Kate enthuses, delighted.

“As I do you, little one,” you smile, leaning over to kiss his forehead.

You look up to see Benedict with that same look on his face as earlier. A tempest, almost an energy over his being. It’s almost as if he is… aroused?! Which is most odd.

As you hand the baby back to Kate, giving him one final kiss, Benedict is suddenly by your side. Announcing to the family that there has been a change of plan and, regrettably, you will not be able to stay for dinner, his arm an insistent tug around your waist.

——

“Why did we not stay for family dinner as originally planned, my love?”

Your question is soft, only just audible over the noise of the carriage as you trundle over the cobbled streets of Mayfair a few minutes later.

“I decided that we should perhaps dine at ours this evening…” his voice adopting that deeper edge which always causes butterflies in your tummy. His hand lands on your knee, a heavy weight that feels portentous. He slides closer on the bench seat.

“Why might that be?” your ask turns breathy, entirely without you meaning it to.

“I want to be alone with you,” he murmurs, unmistakably pitched to arouse.

The carriage seems to notch up a few degrees as the rocking motion presses your side rhythmically into his. The sound of the wheels and hooves is so loud. He twists to wrap an arm around your shoulder and pulls your back against his flank.

“All day today, I have watched you,” he rumbles, hand warming the skin around your clavicle, fingertip brushing in circles. “You are so very good with children, darling. Seeing you so naturally with the babies and how you handled Hyacinth… you would be the perfect mother.”

You blush a little at his praise. “Thank you, my love. I would like children one day. Your children. Imagine a child with your eyes. They would be quite the most beautiful,” you sigh wistfully, leaning back into him, his hand feeling heavier on your skin.

Benedict chuckles modestly. “And what of your beauty? Would a child version of you not be the most fetching?”

You giggle and turn your head sideways to nuzzle against his jaw. “I think we would indeed make beautiful babies together, Benedict.”

“I agree,” his voice a tempting lilt, fingers skating downwards over the swell of your breast now, slipping inside the fabric and making you gasp as he tweaks your nipple. “And I think we should start as soon as we get home.”

“Did seeing me with babies suddenly make you want your own, Mr Bridgerton?” Your hand flexes on his knee as he toys with your breast.

“Oh yes darling, it made me want to take you right there…” he asserts, finally admitting those looks he gave you were indeed pure arousal.

You reach up and run your hand into his hair, fingers flexing on his warm scalp as you pull his face to yours. “And suddenly, it appears I am no longer hungry for dinner…” you whisper flirtatiously, your cupid's bow brushing his stubbled upper lip.

He groans, and his passionate kiss is plundering, a tingle running over your limbs, just as your carriage comes to a shuddering stop outside your townhome.

Uncaring of the neighbourhood or any prying eyes, Benedict sweeps you out of the carriage in his arms, carrying you bridal style over the pavement and through your front door.

“My wife and I are not to be disturbed,” he announces crisply and loudly to the staff as you enter the hallway.

Leaving no room for doubt about his plans by pulling you into a searing kiss for all to see before ascending the stairs rapidly. He practically growls as he kicks open the door to your master bedroom door and slams it shut again with his foot.

“Benedict…” you stammer, heart pounding at how overwrought he is.

You have never seen him like this. Commanding, crackling with an energy that has your body simmering. He is usually so sweet, affable, and kind. Every time you have been intimate since your wedding night a few weeks ago, he has been a complete gentleman: loving and so very tender. The grip he has had on you tonight feels different. This is something primal—like a switch has been flipped at a basal level in his being.

He places you down onto your feet before the roaring fire, his face intense.

“Wife…” The way he says it makes you feel a flush creep over your skin.

“Husband…” you respond in kind, belly fluttering with excitement.

“Take off your dress,” he orders, his dilated pupils shining in the firelight.

This is new. Usually, he is the one to remove it slowly and softly from your body.

“I cannot, the buttons…” you confess, signalling behind you. You would need your ladies' maid to unhook them from between your shoulder blades.

He moves closer, seeming so much taller; his ragged breaths dance in the tendrils of your hair as he reaches around behind your shoulders. With a rough tug that makes you startle, he tears the fabric asunder, the sound of tiny pearl buttons skittering across the polished wooden floor behind you as you gasp in surprise.

“There…” he smirks dangerously, “problem resolved.”

You are speechless as he withdraws a pace, looking at you expectantly. You follow his order, a slight quake in your hands as you push the frayed dress down your body, still a little shocked by his strength. Then you reach for the crisscross lacing of your stays, feeling the weight of his stare as each loop relents, his eyes hungry, his body heaving with deep breaths his fitted jacket taut with each inhale. You peel the item away, leaving just your thin white cotton chemise.

“Rip it too,” you plead before you realise it, enthralled by this assertive demeanour.

With a noise in the back of his throat, he takes a pace forward again, and you stare up at him, enchanted. He grasps the fabric above your breasts and then rips it loudly from your chest all the way to your ankles, the sound echoing up the walls. Again, his strength has your knees weak. As the torn pieces flutter from your body, you want to bathe in the hungry sound he makes as he realises you are clad only in white knee-high silk stockings, no underwear to be seen, the warmth from the fireplace swirling around your intimate area.

As you stand almost naked before your imposing husband, him still fully dressed, there is a knot low in your gut. But it’s not fear; it’s something else entirely—desire. Trembling, breathless and wanting. An elemental wish to be thoroughly taken.

He steps forward, eyes glittering, and his fingers plough roughly between your legs, making you gasp.

“Eden,” he proclaims, his fingers snagging over your swollen pearl of a clit with almost rough strokes, the callous where he holds his paintbrush abrading your folds. “A wonderful, lush, wet garden. Just waiting to be planted.” His words are hypnotic and low, questing fingers being coated with a dewiness that is entirely of his making.

“Please…” you whimper, squirming on his touch, captivated by this version of your husband, wanting to submit to him, a burning need low in your belly. His fingers slide faster, making a lewd, wet noise.

“Are you going to let me?” Benedict croons. “Plant my seed inside you?”

Until now, he has always been careful to complete outside your body. A slightly bereft feeling every time - the wonderful moment cut short as he leaves you suddenly empty, a warm splash upon your thighs, tummy or spine. The idea he will stay inside you is alluring in a way you don’t fully comprehend.

“Yes, please, husband,” your nipples puckering almost painfully against the wool of his lapels as he crowds into you.

“Good. Get on that bed right now,” Benedict orders roughly, pointing at your four-poster bed as he tugs off his jacket.

You scramble to obey. Feeling under a spell. Being naked save your stockings feels illicit as you lay back into the soft pillows and watch as he undresses, staring you down the whole time.

You slide a hand between your legs instinctively as more of his toned body is revealed. He growls at the sight, you biting your lip and watching him, his torso bare, his trousers clinging to his shapely legs, to his swollen cock. He bends to remove his shoes, and the sight of his broad shoulders flexing is enough to make you moan. As he stands back up and hooks his elegant fingers around the trouser buttons, a smug look on his handsome face that he is doing this to you.

“Husband…” you call out to him, writhing on your fingers shamelessly now, one hand shooting up to brace your movements against the headboard, flushing warm down to your toes.

With a few dextrous flicks, the buttons relent, and his trousers drop to the floor. His naked body is always a delicious sight, but tonight feels more, every sense heightened, moaning again as he takes a step towards you, thigh muscles flexing, his cock standing proud to attention.

Again, a soft plea falls from your lips, your eyes raking every plain of his tempting form, feeling yourself swell under your fingertips.

“Not yet,” he clucks, the arrogance somehow more beguiling as you bite your lip. “I think I want to watch you come, my darling. All by yourself. I hear female pleasure can aid with conception after all.”

“Will you not touch me?” you petition, reaching your other hand imploringly towards him.

“No darling, I shall watch,” his lopsided grin deadly.

He wraps a strong fist around his own cock, pumping slowly, a bead of moisture gathering at his tip, glistening in the candlelight as he does.

“Now, use both hands, please. Place your fingers inside yourself,” Benedict instructs as you blindly follow, a languid buzz in your brain—you would do anything he told you to right now.

Planting your feet squarely on the bed, you drag your ankles up higher towards your bottom, letting your legs fall open wider to give him a better view as your other hand slides down. You plunge two fingers into yourself, your hips canting off the mattress with a staccato breath at the sensation of yourself, so hot and tight.

“That's right,” he endorses, a leisurely movement of his hand up and down his cock as he watches you from a few feet away. “‘Feel yourself, darling. Tis paradise, is it not?” that trademark rumbling voice skittering over your skin, goosebumps raising down your arms just at the tone.

“Come closer,” you appeal breathily, wanting to smell him, feel his heat, his flesh—anything.

He shakes his head, smirking wider as his refusal spurs you on, desperate to come. Mewling as your fingers speed up, one circling your clit, the others buried as far as you can, wishing instead it were his long, graceful fingers reaching places you are unable. Watching him squeeze his own cock hurtles you fast, already aroused from the moment he slid a hand into your dress in the carriage.

Unable to fight the tide in your body, you screw your eyes shut and call out his name as your pussy starts to convulse around your own fingers, toes curling into the sheet, your muscles all going stiff, your hips again raised as you feel the tide break. A gush of wetness runs down your palm and your bottom cheeks as your mind floats away. Distantly, you can hear him speaking, but it’s fuzzy as you flop back down, sated, your legs going flat, too shaky to balance.

You startle as a warm hand circles the wrist of your fingers still inside yourself, bringing you abruptly back into the room. Benedict looms over you, his chest heaving, that power still there.

“What was that?” your query drowsy, lips dry.

He chuckles richly. “I said that was spectacular,” he repeats, bemused. “But also that I want you to paint your nipples with your arousal, my love, for me,” he commands, tugging your hand so your fingers slide out of yourself.

You do as bidden, still floating down from the high, smearing your own warm juices onto your puffed areolas.

“Perfect..” he intones.

In one swift, athletic move, he mounts the bed. You cry out as his warm mouth encloses your left nipple, groaning lewdly as he licks you clean of your arousal, his tongue a heavy, warm, wet weight curling around your sensitive bud, his lips tugging gently, reawakening those synapses only just recovering from your orgasm.

“Why do you always taste like heaven?” his dusky question is rhetorical, his breath gusting over your sternum as he swaps to your other breast to meter out the same treatment. He has you moving under him again as he settles his body over you more firmly, your hips tilting up to feel his hard cock graze your inner thigh. “I wonder if you will still taste like heaven when you are heavy with my child?” he hums thoughtfully as he teases your nipple with the tip of his nose, one hand cupping your empty belly. “I dare say even moreso, ripe like a vine, bearing fruit…” That sonorous voice teases over your skin as he moves slowly upwards to nuzzle your neck. “My fruit….” he adds, possessive as he sucks your earlobe into his mouth, so loud now right by your ear.

His hands wind around your thighs as he shuffles position so he is kneeling between your legs, his ropey thighs spread wide under yours…

“Are you ready for that, my love?” he pauses until you nod almost imperceptibly; you squeak as he suddenly hauls you down the bed, hips onto his lap, your pelvis now higher than your head upon the sheets. Your stockings unfurling down your legs where he quickly plucks at the ribbons holding them aloft.

“Good, because I am more than ready for you,” it almost sounds like a warning.

Then, with a solid thrust, he spears into your body, the invasion toe-curling, your fingers grasping his muscular forearms that are clamped around your waist. It is a primal position, and he begins to thrust with no mercy, his cock feeling huge and heavy, a strong weight that drags heavily over your walls as your pussy clings to him. Your eyes flutter closed as you whimper his name, powerless to do anything but take his thrusts, draped across his lap as you are.

“Look at me,” he demands raggedly. And you do, his handsome face contorted with effort as he slams into you, a little bead of sweat forming on his brow. “Look at me while I fuck a baby into you, wife.”

He’s never spoken to you like this before, clipped, harsh. It seems appropriate that he would be almost desperate in an act so elemental, so of the earth—to create life. Stoking a fire deep in your core that is a clarion call for him, a frisson running over your skin at the idea you are being impregnated. Bred.

You know neither of you will last long with this almost frenzied coupling, the tendrils of your arousal already swirling so soon after your last, his near-brutish handling precisely what you need, your swollen pearl slammed into his flat abdomen with every stroke he takes. The sheets roll under your shoulder blades as he keeps the same position, your hips high, a mounting that you cannot and do not want to escape, knowing he is leaving fingertip bruises around the dip of your waist, marks you will carry secretly with pride just for him.

You moan his name, so close again to that ephemeral bliss, thrashing your head from side to side as if willing the pleasure to break and wash over you.

“Come on, come for me, milk me, darling. Take what you need, take my seed,” his voice a deep wrecked purr, the lines of his body tense, craving release as much as you.

That command is what breaks the dam for you, an almost violent ricochet fanning out from where you clench around him, his cries muffled behind the rushing noise in your ears, every part of you convulsing in a pleasurable wave. And then, in a floating haze, for the very first time, you feel your husband come inside you, a warm bloom that coats your walls. It's an intoxicating feeling; you never want him to come anywhere else ever again.

“That's it, well done, my love,” he croons, eyes still shut as he shudders with little aftershocks, not leaving your body—as if he wants to stay inside you always.

——

As the embers in the fireplace glow white, you lay in post-coital bliss, bodies dewy from exertion. Benedict rests his head upon your stomach as you card your fingers leisurely through his hair.

“Do you believe we may have made a baby, darling?” he hums, pressing his ear to your belly button as if listening for a heartbeat.

“I am certain of it, husband; you were so very thorough with your attentions,” you assure as he takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together. “I hope our baby has your face,” you opine.

“Even if it is a girl?!”

“Thou art as pretty as thou art handsome, Mr Bridgerton,” you quip.

He laughs, carefree, crawling behind you and pulling you into a spooned embrace. “Be careful with such provocation, wife; I may not be done with you after all,” he jests idly. “I, on the other hand, hope our child looks like you, even if it is a boy.” he posits, crowding into your back, his lips warm on the shell of your ear.

“Why?” you laugh, frowning, twisting to look back at him.

“So that I may love them as much as I do you,” he breezes nonchalantly as if what he says is not the sweetest thing you can imagine, causing a tart, sudden spike of want through your body, even as you lay sated.

“Be careful, husband,” you volley back, coquettish. “Or I may not yet be done with you.”

There is a sharp, approving intake of breath, and his hand slides low from your belly into the thatch of hair at the apex of your thighs.

“Is that a promise” he rumbles, your gasp loud as his fingers expertly drag against your clit.

“It is whatever you want. Just do not stop,” you rush out, your hand curling around his bicep, feeling a rigid mass slide hot against your bottom. “Again, husband,” you appeal breathily. “Impregnate me again.”

“With pleasure, wife,” he growls, surging into your body with a force that again steals the very breath from your lungs.

The pinkish light dawn is streaking over the ceiling above when you both finally succumb to sleep after many more vigorous attempts at babymaking. The last one, perhaps the most desperate, you pinned against the headboard, him fucking into you so hard from behind that a jagged crack appears, spidering up the wall from where the bedframe slammed into it. A flaw which he steadfastly refuses to get fixed, claiming it to be the most profound art—a souvenir and ode to a momentous night.

——

9 months later

Benedict’s lips mash against your sweaty brow as he keeps lauding you with praise, excitement and pride evident in his every word. You flop back onto the bed, exhaustion deep in your bones, your body turned inside out, hurting in a way you have never known.

But it was all worth it.

What feels like only moments later, in your shattered, addled state, the doctor and nurses depart. Your husband perches on the bed next to you, his face a picture of wonderment. Holding not just one but two bundles of joy in the crooks of his arms. One girl, one boy—fraternal twins.

“My love, we have created the most beautiful creatures on all of this earth,” he attests partisanly, his voice profound with emotion, his eyes pinging from one swaddled face to the other as they sleep soundly.

You shoot him a watery but ironic smile. “I suppose, dear husband, that is what happens when you spend a whole night impregnating me. You succeed twice over.”

His brow raises pointedly, his tongue shooting out to pass over his bottom lip. “Are you suggesting next time around, wife, we keep going for three days straight? So that I may have a brood of eight by the time we are done?” Deploying his bedroom voice that he knows full well makes your knees weak.

“Do not say such things in front of the children!” you chide, swatting his knee where it touches your thigh. “And no, I am not carrying six of your progeny at once; that is simply preposterous!”

“Four?” he petitions with a wink.

You roll your eyes affectionately, settling back into the mound of pillows. “A maximum of two at a time is my final offer, Benedict Bridgerton,” you respond drolly.

“Entirely reasonable,” he chuckles contentedly, dropping a kiss onto each of their foreheads before handing both to you so delicately, as if they are the most precious bundles in the world.

Which to you both, they are.

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aliceramblez · 4 months

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Can finally hit the hay MAN I've been meaning to finish those trolls HCs for DAYS but stupid laryngitis wouldn't let me 😭

I'm hoping to write something non-Trolls related next, just to shake things up a bit, so feel free to request stuff (Trolls or not) and I might pick your idea! Thank you for your overwhelming support! 💜

#speaking of support holy cupcakes my first trolls post is almost at 1k notes?#you guys are amazing omg #trolls fandom needs to be fed i can't blame y'all

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itoshiexx · 2 months

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running your fingers through their hair

you are now reading... LENA'S 1K MILESTONE EVENT FIC!

↳ itoshi rin, michael kaiser, reo mikage (separate) + cafuné (n.) - running your fingers through the hair of someone you love

notes: omg hi guys! i'm freaking ALIVE!!! i know i've been terribly inactive but life as a recently graduated lawyer has been INSANE and i barely have time to breathe, let alone write. regardless, i was able to finish this after some struggle, and i really hope you guys like it! cafuné is a brazilian word and it's something i love very much, so thank you anon, @kyukiss and @etoiile for the request and sorry it took so long ♥

event masterlist

Itoshi Rin

“you remind me of a dog, you know?”

rin’s eyes shoot open with your unexpected words, and you receive the harshest glare you’ve ever witnessed on his face when it came to you.

“excuse me?”

his tone is supposed to be threatening, but his voice is slightly laced with sleep, so it sounds a lot more like a whine. you snort a little bit, pausing your ministrations on his head, where your fingers run through his hair.

“not in a bad way, baby. i just mean you’re like a puppy when you want my attention,” you giggled a little, and if rin didn’t love the sound so much, he would have berated you.

“that’s absolutely not true.”

“it is, though. you came back from practice all tired and grumpy, and the first thing you did was put your head on my lap because you wanted me to run my fingers through your hair. you didn’t even showered, rin.”

“i did shower! on the locker rooms!”

you smile mischievously. “oh, i thought the dampness was from sweat. i was about to call you out for being stinky.”

rin’s grimace worsened, and a pout formed on his lips. you couldn’t resist the urge to squish his cute cheeks together. god, he was so adorable it tugged on your heartstrings. how was that even possible?

you lowered your head to give him a quick kiss, and although rin tried to deepen it, you pulled away fast, grinning once again. he knew what was coming even before you said it. “you’re also like a puppy when you trail after me around the house. a lost puppy.”

his groan reverberated through the whole apartment, and rin shoved your hands away from his face, scowling. “i fucking hate you.”

“no, you don’t.”

“i hate you. i’m serious.”

you giggled again. “so why didn’t you leave my lap then?”

his eyes met yours, and you kind of relished in the furrow of his brows. it made his pout even cuter. “…what.”

smugness radiated off of you, because you knew rin — your rin — like the back of your hand. and if there was an universal truth in the world, it would be that the younger itoshi was down bad for you. enough for him to stay despite your shenanigans that always got on his nerves.

“i said, if you hate me, then why didn’t you leave my lap?”

his mouth opened, but no retort came out. he gaped like a fish for a few seconds before groaning again, turning his body so that he could hide his face on your stomach. you laughed at his childish behavior, knowing it was one of the reasons you loved him so much. not many people were able to see this vulnerable side of him, and you were glad to be one of them.

“shut up.”

“yeah, yeah. you big baby.”

comfortable silence engulfed the both of you, and rin remained hidden on your stomach as you picked up the book you were previously reading, wanting to continue the story. though your left hand was suddenly tugged to lay on your boyfriend’s head.

“keep going,” he murmured, “…please?”

a gentle smile took over your features, and you were quick to run your fingers through his dark, silky strands. rin sighed softly, content with the affection you gave him — as if your angelic hands could take away every doubt swirling on his mind and wipe off the tiredness from his sore body.

“of course,” you said. and your mind completed silently: i’d keep going forever if it made you happy.

perhaps you were down bad, too.

Michael Kaiser

contrary to popular belief, michael kaiser was not a bad boyfriend.

despite his huge ego, his narcissistic tendencies and his extravagant yet somehow rude personality, he wasn’t the type of guy to treat his partner poorly. in fact, he was a very attentive boyfriend, always doing his best to make sure you were happy and healthy.

or maybe it was just you. who knows.

whatever his reasons were, you relished the fact he took such good care of you, even if he wasn’t physically present because of away games — because michael was very good at making people notice him. whether it was with a bouquet of your favorite flowers delivered to your job, a nice breakfast cooked before you woke or even a small note of love professions.

however, nothing really compared to having him there, with you, flesh and bone.

especially on those days you just felt so miserable you wanted to disappear.

“liebling? you okay?”

it was one of kaiser’s rare day offs, and all you wished for was to spend some much needed quality time with your boyfriend. though, this wasn’t possible due to your job, one you liked having despite michael saying he could support the both of you financially.

but the day at work just sucked. like, a lot. it was that kind of day where things go from bad to worse in a matter of minutes, and when you swear it can’t get shittier, it does.

you were exhausted and emotionally drained. the whole drive back to your shared apartment you were holding back tears, and the dam broke the second you heard kaiser asking you that.

“whoa!” the blonde exclaimed when your bodies collided on a tight hug. “what is it, engel? what happened? did someone hurt you?”

his worried tone just made you sob harder, and kaiser rubbed his hands on your back, trying to give you some comfort. he started to sway your bodies together while humming, doing everything to calm you down.

eventually, your sobs died down, and your boyfriend carefully brought you to the couch, making you lay on top of him; head on his chest. he started to gently scratch your scalp, running his long fingers through your hair.

“you feeling any better?” he asked in a low tone.

“yeah. thank you, mikka.”

the blond only hummed. “do you… want to talk about it?”

you had to stifle a giggle. god, he was so cute. even when he sucked at talking about feelings, he always made an effort for you.

you slowly shook your head. “jus’ had a really bad day. but it’s okay now.”

his eyes softened impossibly, and you nearly swooned at the sight. “yeah?”

michael kissed your forehead, and kept threading his fingers among your locks in a gentle caress. you smiled, because it was all you really needed to be comforted.

“yeah.”

Mikage Reo

reo’s body collapsed on top of yours, effectively knocking the air out of your lungs. you should have been used to it by now, really, since he’d always do that after you finished your smexy times, but sometimes it still caught you off guard.

“reo, you’re heavy,” you groaned, teasing him. “get off me!”

“give a guy a break, will you?” he whined. “i’m tired.”

your giggle reverberated through his body, and reo repositioned himself to lay his head on your chest, hugging your waist tightly as if to never let you go. he’d rather lose all his fortune before he let that happen.

“is mr. athlete getting out of shape? i didn’t know this light exercise could make you so…”

your boyfriend interrupted you with a groan. “babe!”

you raised your hands in mock surrender, giggling again, and reo thought maybe he didn’t really care about your teasing if it meant seeing you this happy. he loved you in all your versions, but carefree was his favorite one.

“sorry, baby. i’ll make it up to you, yeah?”

before he could make a suggestive joke, his breath hitched in his throat when your soft hands started caressing his hair, gentle fingers threading through his purple locks making him sigh. it was so unfair, he thought, how you managed to disarm him with just a small touch, reduce him to putty in your palms with a little gesture of affection. some of his friends said he was a fool in love, and reo couldn’t agree more.

your love made him silly, but he didn’t hate it. he could never hate anything about you. all mikage reo was able to feel was love, love, love, an emotion so strong it nearly overwhelmed all of his senses, making him forget about all his worries and responsibilities — heck, even the whole world. and he didn’t mind if the world burned as long as he could keep you safe and away from the flames.

“what are you thinking about?” the whisper of your voice echoed the walls of your shared bedroom.

“what makes you think i’m thinking about something?”

though reo couldn’t see you, he knew you rolled your eyes.

“it’s usually how the human mind works, honey,” you answered, your wit making him stifle a laugh. “besides, you’re always so chatty, talking my ear off—”

“hey!”

“—so it always concerns me when you get quiet.”

the heir sighed, letting the silence linger a little longer to recollect his thoughts. reo usually didn’t have a hard time expressing himself with words, but sometimes his heart swelled so much it made it hard to think. so, pretty much every time he was with you.

“it’s just… i’m thinking about how i never really believed in past lives and reincarnation. i never really believed in soulmates, either,” he said, and you paid attention to every word. mesmerized by the wonder in his voice and even more by the sparkle in his purple eyes when he averted his gaze to yours.

“but when i think about you, love… when i see you in my arms or when i rest in yours, i’m sure you are my soulmate, and that we were together in every lifetime. it’s always been you. it will always be.”

your chest swelled with love for the man laying in your embrace, and you tried to hold back the tears from falling. god, he was everything. you didn’t even know what you did to deserve a lover like mikage reo, but you were far from complaining.

you gave him a chaste kiss on the forehead, trying to convey even a fraction of the love and adoration you held for him, and looked back to caress his face. then, smiling with the world in your eyes, you answered:

“it’s always been you, too.”

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inf3ct3dd · 6 months

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streamer!ellie headcanons

warnings: yo no se

content : streamer!ellie headcanons 🔥🔥

authors note : the streets r calling and they’re telling me to write streamer ellie hcs….

- def started off as a faceless streamer. she wasn’t really comfortable on camera, and she just thought it would be way easier. you can only see her shoulders-down leaving her (deliciosu. scrumptious. yummy) arms in the cameras view.

- her twitch user is “creeperewman” cuz shes like…discreetly hiding her initials and referencing the best minecraft parody ever 😕!!!

- bought the most random shitty mic and webcam and started streaming 🔥🔥 she never got rid of either of them its part of her odd loser charm

“‘fartmaster69:it’s probably cuz your camera’ it’s probably bc of YOUR CAMERA!!! theres nothing wrong w my camera bro 😞”

“don’t listen to them…ur perfect 🤫 IM NOT TALKING TO U GUYS IM TALKING TO MY CAMERA”

- only had a few viewers the first couple times she streamed, and it was some random 10 yr old who kept spamming “yassss” in the chat and some dude who said she was shit at minecraft 😞 he was LYING

- started off doing minecraft speed runs (or trying to) and got like way good over time

- she randomly started getting more and more viewers, because people kept posting abt her and calling her fine on tiktok , making edits of her hands and her voice 😭😭 (real)

- as she got more and more viewers, she started branching out more with the games she’d play. def loves shooter games like cod and pubg, but she’d also play like indie horror games like faith (omg markiplier fans would know)

- she has a orange cat she named garfield (cuz…of course she does) and he’s always sitting on her lap during her streams or messing w her setup 💔💔

- def put stickers all over her headset and showed them off all proud on stream

- designed her own cute banners and stuff for streams 😞!!!

- def had a subreddit/disc server with her viewers where she’d let them give her game recs or make memes of her

- ppl saw her guitar in the back of her streams and BEGGED HER to play it and she had her own lil concert stream !!! she was so freaking nervous and messed up a bunch the first like minute or two but like after that she was in the ZONE

“‘ewswife: i wish i was that guitar’ oh!! you guys are so…kind!!!”

- when she INSANELY hit 1k, she did a face reveal and she hit 10k the same day 😦 the amount of edits that ppl made was actually insane. ESP ONES MAKING FUN OF DREAMS FACE REVEALLLL

- started doing much more random shit on stream after she got more famous. she LOVES cooking on stream, and she’d start reacting to random shit ppl sent her on the subreddit

- she cut her hair on stream once, and everyone in the chat kept spamming “yo bob…is fye” for like 5 minutes 😪

- “you’re at work watching me? i hope you get fired. i mean. i hope you don’t get fired 😞”

- she gets so many thirst comments and like…is terrible at responding to them

“‘ewleftbicep: you look so vulnerable today’ WHAT”

- she has her own apartment cuz of her awesome streaming money 🔥🔥🔥 soundproofed walls too cuz she’s. loud.

- one day, you were walking on campus to a class. you had your headphones on, listening to your main playlist on shuffle, when you got stopped by someone. you pulled your headphones off your ears and gave the man in front of you a confused look. you looked down to his hands, holding a tiny mic, and another dude holding a camera.

“what song are you listening to?” he held the microphone towards you, awaiting your response.

you quickly responded “uhm, last goodbye, by jeff buckley.” and stood there awkwardly, pushing a piece of hair out of your face.

the man quickly thanked you and you walked away, slightly suprised.

- after a couple hours, the video had blown up and the comments were filled with people complimenting you.

pickleluna: jeff buckley girl is so fine

minyonlala: 3rd girl is so bad

rilakkila: I NEED JEFF BUCKLEY GIRL

and unknown to you, someone else found you on their fyp.

creeperewman: guys what is the 3rd girls @. im literally BEGGING BRO PLEASEEE

- ewleftbicep: BEING DESPERATE ON MAIN IS CRAZY

- ewsgirlf: random tiktok girl stole my wife 💔

- elliewilliamsidechick: guys im literally the 3rd girl 😂😂😂

- it didn’t take long for your phone to be blown up with people sending you the video, tagging you in funny comments, and finding your instagram. you watched the video, and saw ellie was the top comment. you checked her profile, and saw how FINE she was, and immediately responded

- y/nmainn: guys 😳😳😳 what if i was the third girl 😳😳

- ellie checked her phone and saw thousands of people tagging your comment, and she wasted zero time following you on tiktok. and your instagram. its not stalking if its in your bio, right?

- you two immediately hit it off, and ellie loved the fact that you had absolutely no idea who she was. to you, she was just some hot girl. not some famous streamer you were obsessed with.

- she didn’t even realize you two went to the same school until she saw you in her astrophysics class one day, and she almost had a heart attack when you waved at her and walked over to sit next to her.

“what a coincidence.”

- she took you out on your first date to a planetarium, and not even a week after, asked you to be her girlfriend.

- she definitely teaches you how to play her favorite games. but she gets wayyyy defensive when you beat her.

“im just letting you win.”

“beginners luck.”

but shes SO COCKY when she beats you

“hey, don’t be so hard on yourself after this. not your fault im a professional!”

“aw, maybe one day you’ll be as good as me”

- definitely helps you build your own pc.

- loves watching you play things like animal crossing or stardew valley, always lays on your shoulder while you’re on the couch.

“why are you being so mean to gaston :((“

“because hes UGLY and he has an ugly house and he’s ruining my village.”

“wowww you’re bullying a little bunny man because he doesn’t fit your aesthetic 😒 so mean”

- if you like more aggressive games like cod, she loves listening to you talk shit while you play and always makes fun of people with you. (she thinks its hot when you’re mean to people)

- her chat absolutely loves you, and every time you stream together its a continuous stream of “me and who” and “when is it my turn 😪”

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dumbseee · 9 months

Text

stalker. pt.2.

masterlist.

charles leclerc x reader. / ? x reader.

fc: lalisa manoban.

note: thanks you guys for 1k!!! i love seeing everyone’s reactions to my aus it really warms my heart <3 i love youuuuuuu <333

liked by landonorris, yourbestie, francisca.cgomes and 1 007 819 others.

y/n: thanks again @.apmmonaco for inviting me again! raising money for charity is something really important for me, and i’ll continue to do it till the end. you can donate too right here: www.donateforcharity.com

fan1: a fucking goddess

fan2: charles fumbled HARD

fan3: men really can’t handle bad bitches

isahernaez: stunning!

fan4: the fact that they were ALL there lmao

fan5: apparently they were sitting near each other…

fan6: where is deuxmoi when you need them.

fan7: how to be a fly in that room tbh

fan8: can we STOP talking about musty charles and appreciate y/n’s beauty and work for charity??

fan9: y/n can do better than him anyway, her family literally owns half of monaco

view all 30 738 comments.

liked by francisca.cgomes, yourbestie, maxfewtrell and 886 628 others.

y/n: enjoying some sun with friends :)

fan1: "friends" hm? then why is your fucking bestie still in monaco, y/n???

fan2: and who tf is that?

fan3: GUYS CHILL let the girl catch some dicks omg

fan4: i hope charles is crying rn

fan5: nah but charles must be regretting all his life choices

fan6: i wonder who that friend is

fan7: she looks so good tho

fan8: let’s stop talking about HER love life she’s a grown ass adult

fan9: my girl is thriving we love to see it <3

view all 12 792 comments.

you did your best to ignore the look in people’s eyes when they saw you in the paddock. after all, what was a driver’s ex girlfriend doing here? to be fair, you didn’t even know yourself, but he asked you to come and for a reason that is still foreign to you, you said yes. because who could say no to him?

it felt weird tho, coming here alone and supporting someone else, it was weird to you. especially because your ex boyfriend was here with the girl he cheated on you with. no wonder everyone was looking at you. but you didn’t care, you knew why you were here, and charles wasn’t going to ruin this moment.

"y/n!" a familiar voice made you sigh in relief, it was your friend, lily. she greeted you with her signature smile and hugged you tightly. "i haven’t seen you in such a long time." she took a step back and you smiled at her. you loved this tiny woman so much, she was a huge support for you during the breakup and even now. "i missed you too! where is alex?" you asked, your friend’s boyfriend not in sight which was weird because these two were tied at the hip. "doing interviews with logan. but let’s not talk about boys, how are you?" you two linked arms and walked through the paddock. "i’m fine actually, it’s weird but i think i’m moving on." you smiled and looked at the sky, knowing exactly why you were moving on so quickly. "i’m happy then." she smiled back but it dropped away from her face quickly, when she saw something in your way. when you followed her gaze you chest tightened when you saw charles and his girlfriend. when she saw you she immediately jumped in charles’s arms to kiss him, which caught him off guard and annoyed him.

an arm on your shoulder finally snapped you out of it, when you looked on your right to see who suddenly appeared next to you, you saw him. and all your sorrow immediately disappeared like rain when the sun is shining.

"hi, beautiful." he said, and you couldn’t help but smile.

liked by y/n, landonorris, danielricciardo and 2 729 099 others.

carlossainz55: red is still your color by the way.

comments have been disabled.

taglist: @sassyheroneckgiant @ssararuffoni @myescapefromthislife @idkiwantchocolatee @motorsp0rt @leclercdream @janeholt3 @ivegotparticulartaste @shessthunderstoms @doromoni @judespoision @ariagonzalezsstuff @angelayse @notleclerc @sm3156 @rainerax @shinrjj @ferrariloverr

(i couldn’t tag everyone :( so i just wrote the @)

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lecsainz · 1 year

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monegasque charm

pairings: arthur leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: arthur making stupid pick-up lines, jokes between the leclerc brothers.

authors note: i strongly believe that arthur should make this kind of joke with his girlfriend and the leclerc brothers teasing each other, omg i love this family!

word count: 1K

Y/N and her friends had been looking forward to the Monaco Grand Prix for months. They had saved up their money, booked their tickets, and packed their bags with excitement and anticipation. But as they approached the circuit, their excitement turned to frustration as they found themselves stuck in a long queue of cars, barely moving at all.

"Can you believe this?" Y/N groaned, leaning her head against the car window. "We're going to miss the whole race at this rate."

Her friends nodded in agreement, muttering under their breath about the terrible traffic and the incompetence of the organizers. But Y/N couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. This was supposed to be the highlight of their trip, and now it seemed like they might not even make it to the circuit in time.

As they sat there, bored and frustrated, Y/N noticed a group of guys in the car behind them. They were laughing and joking, seemingly undisturbed by the traffic. And then she noticed one of them in particular - a boy with light hair and bright blue eyes, who winked and smiled at her when he realized she was watching him.

"Who are they?" Y/N asked her friends, nodding towards the car behind them.

"I don't know," one of her friends shrugged. "But they're cute."

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn't deny that the boy with the blue eyes was kind of adorable. And as the traffic continued to crawl along, she found herself stealing glances at him, wondering who he was and why he seemed so familiar.

It wasn't until they finally reached the circuit that Y/N realized who the boy was - Arthur, the younger brother of Charles Leclerc, her favorite F1 driver. Suddenly everything made sense - the blue eyes, the mischievous smile, the effortless charm.

As they were making their way through the crowds, Y/N felt someone bump into her from behind. She turned around to see Arthur standing there, a look of surprise on his face.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" he said, flashing her a smile. "I didn't mean to bump into you like that."

Y/N smiled back, feeling her heart rate pick up at the sight of him. "It's okay," she replied. "We're all a little crowded here."

As they moved forward, Y/N couldn't help but notice that Arthur was wearing a shirt with the logo of his brother's F1 team. And when he caught sight of the number on her own shirt - Charles' racing number - his eyes widened in recognition.

"Hey, I like your shirt," he said, gesturing to the number. “16 is a great number, isn't it?”

Y/N felt a flush rise to her cheeks as she realized that she had been wearing Charles' number all day without even knowing that his brothers were nearby. "Oh, wow," she said. "I'm a huge fan of his."

Arthur grinned. "Yeah, me too. He's pretty amazing, isn't he?"

Y/N nodded, feeling a sudden wave of shyness wash over her. But as they chatted more, she found herself warming up to Arthur's easy charm and infectious enthusiasm.

"So, are you into racing too?" she asked, curious about the young Leclerc's own ambitions.

Arthur's face lit up. "Yeah, actually. I'm a driver myself - I compete in F2."

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise. "Really? That's amazing. You must be really talented."

Arthur shrugged modestly. "I like to think so. But it's tough out there, you know? It takes a lot of hard work and dedication to make it in this sport."

Y/N nodded sympathetically, feeling a sudden kinship with the young driver.

As they walked towards the grandstands, Arthur couldn't resist making a few cheesy jokes and silly pick-up lines, trying to make Y/N laugh.

"Are you a parking ticket?" he asked with a grin. "Because you've got 'fine' written all over you."

Y/N couldn't help but roll her eyes at the corny line, but she found herself giggling anyway.

Before they knew it, was time for Arthur to go and find his brothers before the race started. As they said their goodbyes, Arthur pulled out his phone and asked for Y/N's number.

"I'll text you later, Y/N. Maybe we can grab a drink or something?" he said with a smile.

Y/N nodded eagerly, feeling a spark of excitement at the thought of seeing him again.

Arthur hurried to find his brothers, Lorenzo and Charles. As soon as he saw them, he excitedly recounted his encounter with Y/N and how they had hit it off in the queue.

Lorenzo raised an eyebrow. "You're telling us about a girl you just met in line? I hope you're not neglecting your training for F2."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Of course not, but a little distraction never hurt anyone. And besides, Y/N is really cool.”

Charles chimed in, a smile on his face."Well, well, well, look who's got a crush,”nudging Arthur in the ribs.

"You should ask her out," Lorenzo suggested.

Arthur's eyes widened. "What? No way. I barely know her."

Charles snorted. "That's never stopped you before."

Arthur blushed, but nodded in agreement. "I already got her number. And I'm planning on taking her out to dinner next week."

Lorenzo smirked. "Look at you, little brother, all grown up and making moves. Just don't let it affect your racing, okay?"

Arthur laughed, feeling grateful for his brothers' support.

Later that night, as Y/N and her friends were out at a bar celebrating the end of the race, her phone buzzed with a message from Arthur.

"Hey, it's Arthur 😉 I had a great time hanging out with you today. Want to meet up tomorrow?"

Y/N's heart raced as she replied, "Sure! How about we grab lunch at that cute café we saw earlier?"

As the week in Monaco came to an end, Y/N felt a twinge of sadness at the thought of leaving Arthur behind. But as they hugged goodbye, Arthur promised to stay in touch and even invited her to come watch him race in the F2 later that year.

And as Y/N made her way back home, she couldn't help but smile at the memory of the handsome Monegasque boy who had swept her off her feet.

#arthur leclerc #arthur leclerc x y/n #arthur leclerc x reader #arthur leclerc imagine #f1 x y/n #f1 x reader #f1 fics #f2 x reader #f2 imagine #leclerc brothers #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x oc #formula 1 x reader #formula one #formula 1 x y/n #arthur leclerc fluff #arthur leclerc x oc #f1 fic #fanfic

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gojorgeous · 3 months

Text

GOJORGEOUS 1K FOLLOWERS EVENT!

omg. words seriously cannot express how grateful i am to each and every one (of thousand hehe) of you! i hit this milestone way sooner than i ever thought i would and so to celebrate and thank you all, i'll be putting on a little event here. scroll down to see all the fics i have planned!:

Works:

"heatwaves" ↬ alpha!gojo x omega!reader ↬ when a work trip takes you to japan, the last thing you expect is a heatwave... and some guy with blue eyes?

"sure thing" ↬ assassin!reader x target!gojo ↬ you've been hired to kill the satoru gojo. how will you pull it off... and what will you do when he figures it out?

"drunk in love" ↬ gojo x fem!reader ↬ gojo had a few too many drinks at the bar and now he's... at your door?

"better than revenge" ↬ geto x fem!reader ↬ geto comes home angry and ready for... you?

"you're losing me" ↬ virgin!gojo x virgin!reader ↬ after geto leaves, you worry it will tear you and gojo apart... until it pulls you back together.

(creds to @cafekitsune for the twitter template hehe)

just a note that all of these are subject to a little bit of wiggle room and change. i don't use outlines/plan when i write, so oftentimes things sort of take shape in the moment! plotlines may end up shifting a bit.

fics will not be uploaded in any particular order, but "heatwaves" will be first! after that it's up to whatever i feel most motivated to write lol.

as a final note, i am going to be closing my requests for a bit, so that i can focus on these fics. however, i am always open to suggestions, so if you have a cool fic idea send it my way (just don't expect me to write it asap unless it really tickles my fancy lmao)!

fics will be linked here as they are finished and i'll link this post in my pinned so that it's easy to find. thank you again for 1k!! i can't wait to watch this blog continue to expand and grow with all of you at my side. MWAH.

love,

bree

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neteyamyawne · 4 months

Text

🎀 — Cockwarming

༄ Pairing : Miles Quaritch x Fem!Scientist!reader

༄ Summary : You have always the colonel's personal plaything, His little slut, and when he says has a phone call in the midst of fucking you into oblivion, he makes sure to have his cock nice and warm till the call ends.

༄ Warning : semi-public sex? Cockwarming, PinV, Daddy/babygirl dynamic, age gap, explicit.

༄ Word count : 1k proof read.

༄ Note : Y'all I'm so down bad for him, like omg! And I'm sorry so SUCH a late update, but life's been giving me like a ton of lemons and I don't have enough time to make lemonade but I'm trying, I'm getting into writing again (in between my exams, i know I'm crazy) all my pending fics will come!!

It was usual wednesday afternoon, head bent down on your desk with a new plant specimen that Daniel, the department head, needed an detailed report on, which meant EVERY detail was meant to be written, rushing from one station to another as you collected information diligently as the afternoon slipped late and so did an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him as you squealed in surprise but he was quick to place a hand on your mouth to stop it as he bent down and chuckled near your ear.

“Wacha doing, cupcake?” he grumbled against your neck, pressing a few kisses and a few nips to your cheek and ear, not giving you enough time to react as he threw you over his shoulder and carried you out of the laboratory like a potato sack while you angrily protested, hitting him with your fists “Put me down, you tall smurf, I have work!!”

He raised his eyebrow at your nickname and smacked your ass making you squeak in embarrassment “What did you call me, cupcake?” his tone was low enough to give you your needed warning about what was to come but you couldn't help but whine

“I’m working, sir, Daniel would kill me if i don’t complete it soon!” you were slightly exaggerating it but who cares when you were with the colonel himself? He just chuckled at your complaints and walked around the lab to get out without hitting anything “where’s this Daniel guy-” he didn’t have to wait as Daniel himself came grumbling to your desk as he held a file in his hand “Y/n, how many time have I to- told….”

He trailed off as he Quaritch with you on his shoulder, ass up “puny, do you mind if i borrow one of your scientist for a while” his voice dared Daniel to say no, but the nosy scientist knew better as he immediately nodded to the secOps colonel “Of course, of course! she’s… all yours” he said with clear disdain written on his face, of course he couldn’t have you under his thumb for a long while now.

Miles was more than happy as he carried you back to his quarters while your embarrassed face stayed hidden in his muscular back, other passerbyers were not surprised at the scene, being used to it by now, it was a weekly occurrence if not daily and he took nothing but pride in the fact that others were watching, he didn’t give a fuck.

»»————-　𑁍　————-««

You knew what was coming and you fucking enjoyed the thorough drilling he gave you, his sweet cupcake who could do no wrong, his hand on your bare back, guiding your wet pussy on his cock like a wet glove, ass smacking into his skin with rhythmic slaps, your gasps muffled by his huge hand covering your saliva coated mouth.

"just like that cupcake... Such a sweet little whore for me, ay? Letting daddy fuck your brains out" He growls in your ear as he fists your hair, gripping it tightly to send that delirious shiver down your spine, your messed up moans were incoherent to understand as he picks you up and flips you over like a rag doll before pulling out, laying down on his back after he pulls you on top of him, making you sink down on him again without any mercy.

Your whimpers were unheard of by him as Miles only gave you a few minutes before he was pistoning his hips back up into your dripping cunt, making your tits bounce almost pornographically, a string of slurs escaped your mouth as he coached your body to bounce on his cock "Fuck! Daddy... Thrust... S- shit"

He just smirked at your angelic voice, tired from the relentless rounds until a holographic square appeared on the bedside table, vibration loudly as bold letters showed who called "General Ardmore" bright on the screen

It was quiet for a minute as he stopped, placing you down, cock still snug in your warmth, both of you quiet for a while before he spoke "Keep your mouth shut for me okay? Don't want her to hear you, hmm?" He whispered before he sat up, an unwilling groan wisping through your lips until you shut up when met with his glare as he picked up the call and placed it on his ear.

General Ardmore spoke from the other side while he specifically shifted to torment your already overstimulated hole, nudging back and forth and watch as you bite your lip to keep yourself quiet, his other hand gently caressing your waist, sharp eyes following your shaking legs to the point of connection of your bodies.

He purposely placed the call on the speaker, making you listen to her points about the new mission but all you see and hear were his smirk and quiet chuckles as he kept you impaled on himself, the call was long and agonizing, having you as his Cockwarmer while chatting with her like he wasn't engaged in something much more serious

As he talked to her about the details when he moved up inside you and you squealed suddenly and he stopped, Ardmore stopped "Colonel, is someone there with you?" He scrutinized you heavily and you couldn't help but squirm under his gaze "No, General must be some wild animal outside" he covered up for you as he covered your mouth.

He spoke and nodded to the general's words, keeping your mouth shut and fucking you silently "understood, General, I'd work on it" he said gruffly before ending the call the threw the phone on the mattress before he saw your tear-stained face and rolled his eyes "you sneaky slut, can't keep your mouth shut can you? Then show daddy how loudly you can scream my name" he smiled maliciously before flipping you over with his hand snaking to your throat.

Ho Ho Ho : @cryinginthemoonpool, @luvv4j4ybe11, @xylianasblog, @plooto, @itchaboi-itchyboy, @pandoraslxna, @taylormarieee, @thewiltedpeony, @neteyamswillow, @danniackerman, @hotdsworld, @zafrinaxyz, @xstarsdiary, @moondaisye, @puddle-nerd, @eywxveng, @minnory, @neteyamssyulang , @tavsianus, @ele-sme.

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hsr-texts · 9 months

Text

find your cinderella

꒰‧₊˚✩彡‧꒱ ┊ ━━━━ prologue

꒰⸝⸝₊ʚ♡ɞ ┊ streamer!reader x mystery hsr character ꒱

꒰⸝⸝₊ʚ♡ɞ ┊ otome event ꒱

꒰ ☰ WORD COUNT ┊1.4k ꒱

꒰ ☰ DESCRIPTION ┊ ━━ When you do an unboxing livestream for your subsribers, you find an invite to an exclusive event called the "Find Your Cinderella" masquerade gala where you are guaranteed to find your supposed true love, as a rather enthusiastic manager told you. ꒱

꒰ ☰ NOTES ┊HIII omg you guys THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE SUPPORT!! Getting 1k followers is so crazy for me because I've never had a blog be received with this much love and support before so I've decided to make an extra special otome game style fanfic! ꒱

“Guys, look! The package just came in!”

You rushed into your studio, holding a sizable metal box. Inscribed on the sides was a logo of two masks, resembling a certain Aeon. Placing it down on the floor, you gave a sigh of relief. “Aeons, that was heavy!”

Your eyes glanced at the live chat and saw all the messages, curious about the package.

“Seems like you guys are more excited than I am,” You couldn’t help a small chuckle leaving your lips. “It took me quite a lot to get a hold of this limited edition package from LumiPro. Like, do you guys know how much it cost?”

A few comments popped up trying to guess the price.

You shook your head. “100,000 credits.”

The chat then flooded with shocked emotes and comments. It was more than a fair reaction. You found yourself silently thanking the stars that your current occupation as a streamer granted you a steady income. Otherwise, you probably would’ve had to eat the same type of cup noodles for months.

“Anyway!” You clasped your hands together. “Let’s open it up already! I’m dying to see what’s inside. What could possibly warrant such a steep price?”

Your index finger pressed on the button at the top and heard a voice.

“Vocal identification. Please state your name.”

You uttered your name. It was a good thing you added an auto-censor to your setup so that any sensitive information that could get you doxxed would be redacted in the stream. You didn’t want stalkers showing up at your home after all.

“Permission granted.”

Faint clicks of metal against metal could be heard as the mechanisms worked to unlock the box. A hissing noise came from it as the lid opened. You watched, feeling anticipation and eagerness bubble within your chest.

A hologram was projected from the box, showing a person wearing professional attire. They smiled.

“Thank you for purchasing from Luminous Productions. We’ve curated a package that we believe would be of most use to you. For further questions, you may contact support on our site. We hope you enjoy it to the fullest.”

You took a peek and gasped at the sight. “Guys, oh my god, they just gave me a new PC!”

They must’ve done their research because you did mention in your stream a month ago that you were looking for a better PC.

The chat seemed to be as excited as you were, knowing this meant you’d be able to go back to your regular streaming schedule.

You could tell this was a real high end PC after seeing the graphics card and CPU model. Not only that, but it came with a new headset, keyboard, and mouse. You took out the stuff and gently placed them on the floor, letting the viewers see it.

After noticing that there was more in the package, you rummaged around for the other objects. Your hand made contact with some sort of fabric so you pulled it out.

Your eyes widened as you realised that it was a fancy outfit. Upon looking, you could estimate that it was your size too. Was this tailor made?

“Holy shit…”

It seemed like it was for a real special occasion, not even just your run-of-the-mill party that regular people go to. This outfit would probably fit right in with a red carpet event for rich folks or celebrities. Well— One may say, “Hey, aren’t you a celebrity too?” but you weren’t cocky enough to claim the same status as those with inter-galactic levels of fame.

A slip of paper fell out of the outfit’s pocket and you turned to see what it was.

You squinted in confusion. A ticket…? After picking up, you couldn’t help but notice the holographic shine to it first. How pretty.

“Find Your Cinderella Masquerade Event?” You mumbled in confusion. Who was Sugo? You couldn’t recall knowing anyone that went by that name.

Suddenly, the screen flickered for a moment and a new window popped up next to your stream.

A person showed up, wearing what you could only describe as a pink clown outfit that somehow combines cuteness and gaudiness in one. They grinned at you with amusement.

“Heya to all those viewers watching at home!” Even the way they spoke seemed to have a theatrical ring to it. By the way the chat was going insane, the people watching the stream could also see them.

“My name is Sugo and I’m the event organiser of the Find Your Cinderella Gala, or the FYC Gala for short,” they introduced themselves with a flourish. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Uh… hi?” You didn’t know how to respond. This was quite a bizarre experience to have someone hijack your stream to introduce themselves. Was this legal…?

They chuckled. “Yeah, sorry for the sudden appearance but I figured that it would shake things up a little. I’m sure your dear fans appreciate having two exciting things happening at the same time. You can bet that this’ll go viral too~”

“Right… So what exactly is this Find Your Cinderella Gala?”

“Glad you asked, dear anomaly!” They beamed. Eh? Why were they calling you anomaly?

“See, I’m doing a collaborative project with LumiPro. I proposed to them a large-scale event with celebrities from all over the galaxy, which would be broadcast to every streaming platform out there. The premise is simple, all attendees are there to find their one and only, their true love, their Cinderella, you get the idea.”

“So it’s a speed dating event for rich people?” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. It sounded like a stupid idea. And yet, a part of you was intrigued.

“Right on the money! What a clever streamer, it’s no wonder you got such high compatibility ratings with the other attendees~”

“A what?”

Their eyes gleamed with amusement. “So, we didn’t just pick the celebrities at random. I bet you’re wondering why a small time streamer is getting an invite to such an exclusive event, right?” They tilted their head, leaning on their desk.

You nodded slowly. It was still a mystery to you why you’d be invited when there are far more famous people in the galaxy.

“Behind the scenes, we’ve been developing an advanced algorithm that can find your best match in a group. How it works is that we pick a participant, feed it available information on said participant, then it calculates how well the person would get along with those within the group,” they explained, “What’s interesting for your case is that your average compatibility score with the group is 90%. Most folks that got tested only came up with a 60% average compatibility rating.”

You raised an eyebrow at this in skepticism. “Don’t you think that’s just a bug or something?”

They shrugged. “It could be, but we’ve done several tests and it always came out the same. We were hoping to add you in to act as an outlier to our pool of data.”

“So I’m just a guinea pig for your weird little experiment?” You gave them an unamused look.

“It’s just to see if your results were really true or if it was just a mistake on the algorithm’s part.” They shrugged. “I’m sure it’ll be a fun time for you regardless of my motives. A win win for all parties involved, don’t you just love that kind of thing?”

“I guess but doesn’t this come with strings attached?”

Sugo whined. “Ughhh, you’re gonna make this way less fun if you go in already knowing what you’re getting!”

“What kind of sane person would do something without knowing the full details?!”

A groan came from them. “Booo, that’s so boring! Life needs a special surprise factor that keeps things fun and interesting.”

They sighed after. “But fine. If you’re so skeptical, then I can throw in a 500,000 credit compensation if you end up not enjoying it. So even if you do lose, you still gain something!”

You stayed silent, trying to figure out if this was really worth the trouble of dressing up and going to a party.

“Anyway, that’s all the information I’m contractually allowed to give out. It’s your choice whether you want to go or not.”

“Can I have some time to decide this?” You asked them.

Sugo nodded, smiling in amusement. “Of course! It’s not good for a show to spend too much time on exposition, after all. Let’s give the player some time to shine, hm?”

“I have no idea what you’re saying.”

They giggled, ignoring what you said. “Bye bye! I’ll see you at the gala!”

Their window disappeared, leaving you with your viewers again.

You sighed. What a strange person. Did you really wanna go? It’s not like you had much to lose. Plus, you would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want to find out what that compatibility rating was all about.

“What do you think, chat? Should I go?” You turned to the screen, waiting for their input.

#honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #jing yuan x reader #dan heng x reader #gepard x reader #sampo x reader #blade x reader #welt x reader

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h00nerz · 1 year

Text

murphy’s law!

masterlist | 1k celebration

pairing: choi beomgyu x gn!reader

genre: angst, fluff, high school au, troublemaker!beomgyu, stuco president!reader, kind of one sided enemies to lovers if you squint

word count: 3.2k (im so sorry)

warnings: none afaik? just burnt out reader

prompt(s): #5 — “why are you crying?”

requested: “hi! congratulations on 1k followers!!! for the event, can i have prompt 5 with beomgyu? what i had on mind was like highschool au and reader just had a bad day or smth and had to stay after school to clean, and started crying in the classroom alone and beomgyu was also in the school and heard reader crying and found that it was his long time crush? i hope this makes sense! sorry if this was too long too😓 thank you in advance!!♥️♥️” — @loveliii

authors note: omg the first drabble of the celebration... except apparently i can’t write drabbles so it’s more of a oneshot plz forgive me.

MURPHY’S LAW STATES: everything that can go wrong, will go wrong. Now, you had no idea who Murphy was, but you used to always believe he was full of shit. There had been plenty of instances where things could have gone wrong, but they didn’t.

In fact, when it came to your case, it seemed like things usually went right. You got good grades, and got along well with all of your teachers. You were the captain of your school’s volleyball team, and had even been elected your school’s student body president your last year of high school. Things always went well for you, which is why you had never really been a believer in what that Murphy guy had to say.

At least, that’s what you thought before today. Because now, you were starting to think maybe you had taken your past ability to narrowly avoid disaster for granted. Because today, just like Murphy had once predicted, everything that could go wrong did just that: go wrong.

It started with your stupid charger. The night before, you must have apparently unplugged it, because when you plugged it into your phone before going to bed, it never charged. Which meant your phone died, and that meant your alarm never went off. And that meant you woke up ten minutes before school started, and your bus was going to be there any second.

So, in the quickest fashion you could muster, you brushed through your hair so you looked at least somewhat presentable then slipped into your uniform. You were incredibly impressed by how fast you’d managed to do that—just over 60 seconds! It must have been some kind of record. Less impressive, though, was the fact that even though you had been so speedy, you watched as the bus you were supposed to be on drove away in the direction of your school, leaving you behind.

Thank goodness for all those years playing volleyball, you had built up enough stamina to (barely) get you from your house all the way to the school. You were twenty minutes late, sure, but hey, at least you were there, right? Your first period teacher was not so understanding, almost immediately assigning you to detention after school.

Detention. You never got detention. In your four years at that school, working your ass off to be the best student you could be, a child your parents could be proud ofc, not once had you gotten assigned to detention. The realization that for the first time ever, you’d been punished by a teacher, was a foreign feeling as you sat at your desk and replayed everything that had happened. Detention, all because your stupid phone charger decided not to work the night before.

“Damn, I thought you were immune to detention.” A voice behind you whispered, and you glanced over to see Choi Beomgyu grinning at you. Of course Beomgyu had seen that all.

Choi Beomgyu was the exact opposite of you. He had fights with teachers basically on the daily, and you were pretty sure he was failing most of his classes. Not because he was stupid, by any means, he was actually really smart. He just didn’t try, he didn’t care about school the way you did. What he did care about, though, was teasing you as much as was humanly possible.

And of course, he had just seen you, the student body president, run into class twenty minutes late and get detention.

You had half a mind to bite back at him, because oh would that be satisfying, but you weren’t looking to talk in the middle of class and make your punishment worse than it already was. You instead gave him a side-eye glare, and he must have found it amusing since he started to giggle.

Once class got out, you really shouldn’t have been surprised to glance over your shoulder to see Choi Beomgyu following you, hot on your tail like he was some sort of lost puppy. You groaned quietly to yourself, hoping that if you ignored him long enough, he would get bored and walk away. Unfortunately, Beomgyu was a very patient man.

“I can’t believe you were late! What happened? Did your carriage lose a wheel on the way here, your highness?” He asked, using his long legs so he could get right up next to you.

You stayed silent.

“Come on, you can tell me! I’m like, the king of being late. I won’t judge.” He nudged your arm with his elbow, with just enough pressure for you to fall out of your rhythm. Now, he finally had your attention as you turned to look at him, eyes narrowed.

“Look, I’m not in the mood today, okay?” You told him flatly, and you were expecting him to find your irritable mood amusing, and find a way to push your buttons further than he already had, but he didn’t.

Instead, his face softened and he (surprisingly) went quiet. You didn’t bother sticking around to figure out what that was all about, not when you still needed to get to your class on the other end of the building, and you were not risking being late to a second class. So, you gave him a small nod, a thank you for leaving you alone, then walked away.

The rest of your day wasn’t any better.

In your history class, you got your grades for a test you’d recently taken, and nearly fell out of your seat when you saw a big fat C staring back at you. And your horror increased tenfold when you saw it wasn’t just a C, but a C minus. Never in your high school career had you gotten a C minus.

At that point of the day, you were starting to become convinced that someone had put some sort of curse on you. You didn’t really have any enemies who would have done that to you, though. Except maybe Choi Beomgyu, but you had a feeling putting a curse on someone was too much effort for him to be bothered with.

By the time the school day was over, you were completely exhausted. At lunch, your best friend, Sumin, accidentally spilled her drink on your uniform, and now you were wearing some extras from the lost and found that were much too big for you. You wanted nothing more than to go home, crawl into your bed and have a good cry, but you still had to do your detention.

You weren’t really sure what to expect from detention, considering you’d never had to do it before. You knew you weren’t looking forward to it, though, and just hoped it wouldn’t be anything horrible--especially since it was your first offense.

Your first period teacher was waiting for you in her classroom after classes got out, and she greeted you with a sympathetic smile. “Y/N. You know you’re one of my favorite students, so it really broke my heart when I saw you come in late this morning.”

The urge to roll your eyes arose, but you managed to fight it. Here she was, acting like you had betrayed her or something, when really, it was her decision to punish you for something so small.

“I understand.” You replied with a nod, avoiding her gaze.

“Good. So, I figured out the perfect thing for you.” She stood up and began to walk out of the classroom, with you following closely behind.

Apparently, the perfect thing for you was some storage room that clearly hadn’t been cleaned in a long time. There had been racks with boxes of textbooks that must have gotten knocked over, since the books were now all over the floor. And the room was covered in a thick layer of dust that made your nose itch the second you stepped inside. She left you with a singular rag, a bottle of cleaner, then left you alone.

You stood in the doorframe, assessing the room in front of you. Just from looking at it, you knew it was going to take you at least a few hours to clean the entire thing by yourself. Which meant it was going to be a few hours before you could go home, a few hours before you could go sleep this horrible, awful day away. Even worse, you were sure that something would go wrong during those next few hours that would prolong the time even longer.

Throughout the whole day, ever since you first realized you’d missed the bus, you had felt tears pricking your waterline, but you had managed to hold them in. You were going to wait until you were in your own bedroom, in private, before you even thought of letting them out. But now, as you stood there, staring at the mess in front of you, you could no longer hold them in.

It was like the floodgates had opened up, and all of the emotions you’d been restraining all day were released. A sob racked through your body, and you were no longer able to keep yourself steady, your knees unbuckling beneath you and causing you to collapse onto the floor. It was wildly embarrassing, the way you became a mess on the floor of the dirtiest room you’d ever seen, where anyone could walk in and see you.

And of course, because stupid Murphy just had to be right, that was exactly what happened.

There was a soft knock at the door, and you hurriedly looked over your shoulder to see the absolute last person you wanted to see poking his head in. You were overcome with horror as you snapped your head around to look away, praying as hard as you could to whatever deity would listen that he hadn’t seen your tears.

“Woah, are you crying?” He asked, and you shook your head.

“No. Why would I be crying?” You sniffled, picking up the rag and spray bottle you had dropped onto the floor and standing up. He caught a glimpse of your face again when you walked past, and he scoffed.

“You’re totally crying. Why are you crying? What’s wrong?” He asked again, stepping further into the storage closet and shutting the door behind him.

You shot him a glare as you attempted to stand one of the racks back up. “I’m not crying. Besides, even if I were, I’m not telling you. You’ll just make fun of me.” You mumbled the last part. Standing the rack up was proving to be futile.

“No I wouldn’t!” He defended himself, watching as you struggled to push the rack up. “Here, let me help you with that--”

“No!” You snapped at him, and he backed up with his hands held up defensively. You tried one more time to stand it up, and let out a frustrated groan when it once again wouldn’t budge. You had no choice but to surrender, and move to the side so Beomgyu could help you.

You were angry that you had to get his help to move the stupid thing. Now you were forced to be thankful he had showed up and barged in. “Thanks.” You muttered, brushing past him as you went to once again get your little rag and bottle.

“You’re welcome.” Beomgyu replied, and though you were facing away from him, you could hear his annoying, cocky smile in his voice. “So, are you going to tell me why you were crying?”

“No.”

“Oh, so you were crying!”

“I didn’t say that.” You looked up at him as you sprayed cleaner onto the dusty shelf. “I told you already, didn’t I? I don’t want to talk about it.”

Unfortunately, he didn’t seem as willing to drop the subject as he had earlier in the day. “Come on, Y/N. I saw you crying, you’re clearly upset, just tell me about it!”

“You’re going to laugh at me.”

“No I won’t!” He exclaimed, sounding exasperated. You raised an eye at his outburst, and he cleared his throat. “Seriously. I won’t.” He softened his tone, looking at you with pleading eyes.

You stared back at him, trying to figure out if you could trust him. This was Choi Beomgyu you were talking about, the boy who had tormented you for years on end with his constant teasing. But, he did look very sincere. And you were sort of itching to rant to someone.

“Fine. My phone didn’t charge last night, so my alarm never went off, so I woke up late, then I missed the bus and had to run to school, and then I got detention, and then I got a C on my stupid history test, and then Sumin spilled her stupid soda on me, so I had to wear this stupid uniform from the lost and found, and-and then I had to come here and clean this stupid closet, and I’m just so tired, and I-I--” The next thing you knew you were crying again, your breath hitching in the back of your throat as the tears spilled onto your cheeks once again.

The second the sobs slipped from your lips again, Beomgyu rushed around the shelf, slipping his arms around your trembling body and pulling you close to his chest. You were so desperate for any kind of comfort, you didn’t bother trying to push him away. Instead, you leaned into his touch, reaching up to grip onto the edge of his uniform jacket. He began to rub your back as you buried your face into his shirt, letting yourself cry--like, really cry. You thought you were going to pass out at any second from how difficult it was for you to catch your breath between sobs.

After enough of his fingers rubbing circles into your back and his soft shh’s whispered into your ear, you were slowly able to calm down to the point you could breathe again. It was truly unbelievable that you were here, in some dusty storage closet crying into Choi Beomgyu’s arms. It was not a position you had ever predicted yourself to be in. And yet…

You didn’t totally hate it.

“Can I tell you something?” Beomgyu asked softly, and with a small sniffle, you nodded against his shirt. “The reason I tease you so much… It’s so embarrassing…” He laughed softly, and you gently pulled your head away, looking up at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“What?” You asked, and as he gazed down at you, his cheeks reddened.

“Um… When we were in first grade, I tried to copy off of your test, once…”

“Yeah, I knew that.”

“What?! No you didn’t, I was so subtle, you didn’t even notice.” He shook his head, and you rolled your eyes. “But anyways, that’s not the point. I was trying to copy off your test, but I remember, I made the mistake of looking at your face--”

“What’s wrong with my face?” You asked defensively, a frown befalling your features.

“Let me finish!” He snapped at you, and out of curiosity to hear the rest of the story, you conceded. “So, I made the mistake of looking at your face, and you were all focused, and had your tongue sticking out of the side of your mouth,” he paused to allow a giggle to escape his lips.

“And I remember thinking you were so cute, and then I got so distracted watching you, by the time you got up to turn your test in, I had missed everything you had written down.”

You stared at him in confusion, trying to figure out what on Earth the point of this whole story was. “What…?”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, Y/N. You’re the top of all our classes, and you can’t figure it out?”

You shook your head, and he let out a defeated sigh.

“I’m saying, Y/N, that I tease you because…” He paused, sucking in a shaky breath. “Because I like you, okay?”

“Oh.”

Oh.

Beomgyu liked you? Since first grade? You were unable to process his words, playing them in your head on repeat like some kind of broken record. He liked you. He annoyed the hell out of you, just because he liked you. What kind of middle school boy behavior was that?

“Oh? Is that all you have to say to my heartfelt confession?” He asked in fake offense, and you quickly shook your head.

“No! I’m just--it’s just--you like me? As in like-like me?” He nodded in confirmation, and you squinted your eyes at him. As he watched you, your gaze drifted down to his jacket, which you had been clinging onto just moments earlier, and the tear soaked fabric.

You felt like you should be absolutely appalled by his confession, and wracked with disgust, or something. You weren’t supposed to like Beomgyu! You weren’t supposed to be able to even stand him! But, his confession wasn’t the worst thing you had ever heard. In fact, as your fingers reached out to graze the edge of his jacket, you thought maybe you sort of liked hearing it.

“Y/N?” He asked you quietly, and you hummed in answer. “You don’t have to say anything, you know. In fact, if you really want me to, I can leave. Or you can leave, and I’ll finish cleaning for you--”

Maybe it was because you were in an emotionally crazed state, or you were desperate to prove Murphy wrong, hell, maybe it was just because you liked him back, but whatever it was, something overcame you, and the next thing you knew, you were tightening your fingers around his jacket to pull him close to you and press your lips against his.

The first thing you thought when you kissed Choi Beomgyu, was why hadn’t you done this sooner? You had been so consumed by your dislike towards him, and too focused on other things like your academics, you had never stopped to think of Beomgyu in this way. But now, as he immediately kissed you back, and wrapped his arms around your waist, you wished you had thought of him this way.

Because kissing Choi Beomgyu was absolutely not wrong. Rather, it was very, very right. It was like his lips were made to fit perfectly against your own, as they moved together in unison. You started to think all the bad things that had gone down that day weren’t so bad if it meant they would lead to this.

After what felt like an eternity of heavy breathing and hot kisses, the two of you finally pulled away, resting your foreheads against one another as you attempted to catch your breath. You glanced up at Beomgyu, a small grin spreading across your face to mirror his own.

“Hey, do you really want to clean all this shit?” He asked quietly, cocking an eyebrow at you. You shook your head. “Didn’t think so. Let’s get out of here, we’ll just tell them I kidnapped you, or something. You’re the Pres, they’ll believe us.”

Running away now was risking even further punishment, but Beomgyu was right. You were the president, you could basically do whatever you wanted. Besides, you’d spent all day trying to do the right thing, and still, everything had gone wrong. So, why not live a little, right? And why not do it with the cute boy who just confessed he’d liked you since the first grade?

You nodded. “Okay.”

permanent tag list: @jakeshands @therealhyunjingf @exohclipse @ttyunz @naveries @mazeinthemoon @luvsoobs @n0-thisispatrick @arizzu @dewyboi @yeonboy

#⊹ ˑ ִ ֗ ִ ۫ 1k celebration #beomgyu x reader #choi beomgyu x reader #beomgyu imagine #beomgyu drabble #beomgyu oneshot #choi beomgyu imagine #choi beomgyu oneshot #choi beomgyu drabble #txt beomgyu #txt x reader #txt imagine #txt oneshot #txt drabble

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fayes-fics · 8 months

Text

A Beneficial Arrangement

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: A marriage pact with a Viscount. What could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, oral sex (m to f), loss of virginity, vaginal sex. Bickering, developing relationship.

Word Count: 6.1 k

Authors Note: Unbetaed. Anon request fill from HERE (Anthony and a headstrong independent reader make an unconventional marriage pact). Sorry it's taken so long to write this, but I hope you enjoy! <3

It’s a dreary, rather ordinary Tuesday in spring when your life takes a turn.

“The Viscount is in want of a wife.”

That statement is all you hear as you walk past the drawing room where your mother is taking tea with her good friend, the dowager Viscountess Bridgerton.

“My eldest needs a husband,” your mother responds, offering you as if merely chattel; bile rises indignantly as she does so. “But I fear she is far too outspoken to be a suitable Viscountess.”

You sigh in relief, ear pressed to the closed door now.

“Oh, believe me, nothing would be a better match for my darling Anthony than someone who will challenge him, stand up to him,” Violet peals a knowing laugh. “We should arrange a meeting.”

——

3 days later.

He assesses you with a cool eye as your gaze drifts briefly over to both of your mothers, watching expectantly from a nearby table in the tea shop.

“You should know I will only be taking a wife to fulfil my societal duty,” he sniffs airly. “However, I do not expect you to produce an heir. The title may pass to my younger brothers; they are more inclined to form romantic attachments than I. Their offspring can inherit this title; it feels like a curse anyhow,” he adds quieter, his tone mildly embittered.

“Well, on your attitude to marriage, I can wholeheartedly agree,” you state, stirring your tea primly. “I do not wish to be shackled. I wish to remain free. I shall marry, as there is no other path available to me, but I do not plan nor do I ever want to be someone's wife.” You utter the word with disdain as if it is toxic.

His admittedly very handsome face transforms into one of surprise, a faint dot of colour on his cheeks as he peers at you as if assessing you in a new light.

“What?” You frown at him, his silent stare becoming too heavy to bear as his interest and engagement intensify.

“You are the first woman I have ever met who shares my outlook,” he confesses, seemingly caught off-guard. “It is so utterly refreshing… and, frankly, novel.” He pauses to pass his fingers slowly over his lips in a way that makes your stomach swoop, even if you refuse to acknowledge such even to yourself. “I do believe we should meet again to discuss this further,” he concludes.

And thus, you find yourself with the suit of one Viscount Anthony Bridgerton, both of your mothers overjoyed at the prospect.

——

9 days later.

“If I must marry, you are the most tolerable woman I have met, I must concede,” he states nonchalantly as you meet to promenade.

It’s quite an opening line for only your third meeting, even for someone as renownedly blunt as the Viscount.

“And a good afternoon to you too, Viscount Bridgerton,” you drawl pointedly with a raised eyebrow, subtly hinting how his greeting may have been lacking.

He chuckles, a flash of what looks like admiration in his dark eyes.

“As such,” he continues, “I would not be averse to a martial arrangement with you. An agreement, a pact if you will, based on our mutual understanding of what we both want from such an endeavour.”

The speed and pragmatism of his apparent proposal do not surprise you in the least. In fact, you are actually grateful for the lack of ceremony around it. If you must marry, you prefer it be swift.

“Did you mean what you said last week? In the tearoom?” You quiz as you begin to walk shoulder to shoulder through Hyde Park, the early summer air heavy with the scent of roses.

“Every word,” he replies solemnly.

“Then, I suppose this is a beneficial arrangement for me too,” you shrug as if agreeing about the weather, not the very course of your future. But there is something about this man that feels inevitable, fateful, but not in a way you dread. Also, his face is so very pleasing. If you must indeed marry, at least the view across the dinner table will be nice.

“Then it is decided,” he nods decisively, a brusque smile passing over his lips. “I so greatly appreciate your candidness with regard to this matter. It makes the whole business so much easier to deal with.”

He offers a hand to shake, and you take it, bemused, shaking on the deal, pretending this mere touch doesn't make every butterfly in your stomach roar to life.

“I shall make the arrangements swiftly,” he states, again with a short smile and nod.

You are married within three weeks.

——

6 weeks later.

‘‘What on earth is this?” he practically spits as he rounds the corner of Bridgerton House onto the back lawn.

“What does it look like?” you sass, tearing the netted visor from your face.

“It looks an awful lot like my wife is fencing,” his reply dripping with conceited judgement.

“Well, I’m glad to know you do not need glasses, husband,” you respond dryly, nodding to accept the excuses of the butler you were sparring with, who suddenly seems very keen to scurry away now the Viscount has arrived.

“Perkins, do not think this has gone unnoticed,” Anthony calls pointedly after the retreating man.

“Leave him alone!” you bark, taking your husband aback with your ferocity, him turning to you and almost gaping in surprise. “Perkins must do my bidding as lady of the house, and I told him to fence with me,” you elucidate, keen that the innocent party not suffer any consequences for your decision.

“Women do not fence,” he sniffs, changing the subject somewhat.

“This one does,” you riposte, spearing your epee tip into the grass to remove the suede gloves.

“It is unbecoming of a Viscountess,” he adds almost haughtily.

“Good thing such matters hold no truck with me,” you shrug, knowing you are likely provoking him.

To hell with what is appropriate for a titled lady. The title, and all of its stifling rules and expectations, is the very last reason you married the man standing before you. No, the reason is far, far more simultaneously complex and simple than that. He excites you—in ways you don't even want to admit to yourself.

It’s not something you would divulge to anyone, but arguing with your new husband has become your new favourite pastime. On the rare occasions you see him, that is. Since your wedding day, you have mostly been ships passing at the dinner table; otherwise, your lives have been very separate. At night, his rooms are at the other end of the long hallway from yours, and his days are apparently filled with business obligations. While the utter freedom to fill your days as you wish has been a blessing, it’s also been perhaps a touch lonely.

When you do see Anthony, you invariably end up clashing about something. And, well, it’s often the highlight of your week. A thrill zipping down your spine as you do so. The only person you have met who can keep up with your verbal sparring. It makes you excited, breathless, dizzy, a fizz low in your belly that feels entirely beguiling. Today is no different; you feel that same sensation as he stares at you, arms crossed, exasperated.

“Well, if you insist upon this rebellious pastime,’ he sighs after a few beats, snatching your epee, “the least you can do is improve your grip,” he grouses, rolling his eyes.

You startle as he crowds into your back, a warm hand wrapping around yours as he passes you the blade and demonstrates a different way to wield it that you concede feels better. The spike of victory in your bloodstream from winning the argument morphs into something entirely different as he stands behind you, his breath tickling your ear and the tendrils of your hair as he provides instruction.

You try to take the details on board, but your thoughts scatter with his overwhelming proximity. How have you never noticed the stirring amber notes of his cologne before? Or how very broad his chest is compared to his slim hips? Perhaps because this is the closest you have ever been, his body heat seeping into your spine, your heart fluttering hard against your ribs. You can’t decide if this effect your husband can have on you is the best or the worst thing. Somehow, it feels like both.

——

1 month later.

You are both relieved to avoid most of the season on the pretence of being on honeymoon, but inevitably, the time comes when you must debut as a married couple. Speculation about you growing ever since Lady Whistledown breathlessly reported your nuptials, a nearly unknown minor Ton member rapidly snaring the most eligible of perenially eligible bachelors.

So when you enter your first ball as Viscountess Bridgerton, all eyes are upon you. You feel mildly uncomfortable bedecked in jewels and a heavy silk dress, but know refinement is of importance at events such as these. You just cannot wait to get home and get out of them. This will never be your preferred milieu, a sentiment you apparently share with your husband—underneath his calm, unruffled exterior, you sense his dampened disquiet.

“Smile politely, nod in acknowledgement, but don't engage for any longer than necessary,” he counsels under his breath as an inevitable hush falls over the room when your arrival is announced. You are grateful for his steadfast support, his arm looped reassuringly through yours as you follow his advice, knowing he has navigated these waters much more than you have needed to. “The best thing to do is seem frightfully ordinary,” he explains quietly as you complete a circuit of the room. “They are ravenous for gossip; if none is to be had, their preoccupation will swiftly wane.”

Indeed, the initial excitement about your appearance soon dies down as other, perhaps more flamboyant, guests arrive. People approach expressing surprise about your union, but once he economically explains you just knew you were right for each other, they often quickly move on, seeming almost disappointed at the lack of apparent scandal.

As the evening progresses, you school your tongue at some of the barbs you overhear, more out of a wish to be left alone rather than any adherence to social rules. Most of the things that appear to preoccupy the Ton you have little patience for. As Anthony spends some time with business acquaintances, you eventually find yourself in the company of the female members of his family, whom you are quickly becoming very fond of with every passing day in their company. Particularly his benevolent mother and headstrong sister, Eloise. In fact, the latter is the primary witness to the flare of your true nature, fatigue overriding your ability to remain silent.

Cressida Cowper is being particularly venomous about a mutual acquaintance. Eloise is quick with her witty tongue in reply, and you cannot stop yourself from piling on your scorn as well.

“Perhaps if the braiding of your hair were less painful, it would allow you greater empathy,” you retort before you can stop yourself.

Eloise’s responding guffaw sprays lemonade all over Cressida, whose shocked mien is the last thing you see before she turns heel to attend to her ruined dress in private.

“That was sensational!” Eloise wheezes in awe as she blots the remnants of her beverage from her chin.

You sigh.

“It was unwise,” you correct, knowing you have probably just made an enemy of one of the worst gossips of the Ton.

“It was wholly accurate and justified,” a cool, authoritative voice cuts in, and you look up to find your husband before you, a rapt glint in his eye that makes your lungs feel tight. It appears he may have also been witness to the moment.

Eloise’s eyes briefly ping-pong between the two of you, and then she loops an arm into the crook of Anthony’s as you continue to gaze at each other, cataloguing something new about each other that you mutually admire.

“I like her,” Eloise nods at you. “Excellent choice of wife, brother,” she grins.

It breaks the spell between you but seems to further ingratiate you with at least one member of his family. And that makes you feel light as air in a way you don't fully understand.

——

2 months later.

Funnily enough, it’s another random Tuesday when your life takes a complete turn. Yet again, you find yourself in another heated debate with your husband of barely twelve weeks. This time while sojourning at your country estate, Aubrey Hall.

“Must you?” Anthony gripes, standing up from his desk and rounding towards where you stand.

“Must I what? Speak my mind?” you bite back, hands on your hips.

“Be so damn argumentative,” he expounds, hands also on hips, chest heaving a little, “urghh, you are so aggravating!”

“Same!” You shoot back. “I have never met a man quite as disagreeable as you,” you add, not realising as you argue that you have taken steps closer and are now huffing irritated breaths close to each other's faces.

“Why did you agree to marry me then?” he snarls, his gaze suddenly fixated on your bottom lip, unbeknownst to you, it’s glistening and swollen from biting in irritation at his demeanour.

“Right now, I have no earthly idea,” you volley in return, but your pounding heart gives away the real reason. No one makes you feel quite as alive as Anthony, even when he is driving you up the wall, like right now. “Why did you agree to marry me, seeing as I am so very ‘aggravating’?” you spit, parroting the word back at him.

His stare blisters as he draws himself to full height right before you.

“We made a pact,” he huffs, “this is duty, nothing more.”

But the way he breathes and holds himself speaks to something else. A war in his body and mind. The maelstrom in his eyes belying his words… and then it hits you. So singular it knocks the wind from your lungs. This is desire. He wants you. In all the ways a man can want a woman.

And damn it all to hell if you don’t feel precisely the same.

“For me as well,” your tart, mendacious reply is bitter on your tongue.

The tension in the air is taut like a cord, ready to snap. You both toe to toe, noses almost touching, laboured breaths as you stare each other down like some game to see who will capitulate first.

“I do believe we are at an impasse… wife,” the last word dripping with disdain, but he is leaning closer than he ever has, his lips fractional inches from yours.

“It would appear so…,” you concur, “…husband,” you roll the last word slowly, lingering on the end of the first syllable as if it is both a treat and a bitter pill on your tongue.

“I have been raised a gentleman,” he hisses, “but there are times that you test my resolve.”

“I do nothing of the sort!” you decry, knowing you are lying even to yourself now. Somedays lately, you live to simply push his buttons, just to see what he will do. “And resolve of what? To not be a good husband? Because I can tell you, forthright, you are doing a wonderful job of being a terrible husband,” you goad, knowing you are poking the proverbial beast now.

“I give you a wonderful home to run as you please, I give you the freedom to pursue whatever pastimes you wish, I let you speak your mind. As Viscountess, the world is yours. What else could you possibly want in a husband? I do not ask you to do things, wifely things, that I could,” he warns, his voice buzzing low. “I could demand you submit to my will; it is my right,” he growls.

A flame behind your ribs catches fire, even as your eyes flash indignant.

“You do not wish for that sort of wife; you told me as much yourself.” It’s a heated whisper, much breathier than you mean it to be.

“A man can change his mind,” he gravels, “same as a woman can change hers if she wishes.”

“What made you change your mind?”

He fixes you with a hypnotic, weighted stare.

“You.”

The way that one word drips from his lips tilts your whole existence. It’s so loaded you don’t know what to say. Unmoored, your system awash with chemicals, your mind flooding with images of sketches you have seen of men and women together. Of what the marital act can entail. It’s something you believed would not ever be a part of your marriage, your life, even, but now….

Now your handsome husband is staring at you, ragged breaths, face wild, telling you he has changed his mind. Maybe he wants that sort of marriage, that sort of union. Something gallops hard in your chest as he steps away, as if wrongly intuiting you are about to turn down his suit, and something bubbles up from deep inside you.

“Do not dare,” you growl.

His mouth falls open in shock.

“Do not tease me so and leave me wanting,” you continue with a boldness and timbre you barely recognise as your own. “‘Tis crueller to build false hope than to take what you want,” you sniff and stare him down, so wholly decisive in your intentions and desires. If this is the nudge he needs, you’ll give it.

“You want me to exercise my conjugal rights?” he falters, appearing utterly stunned.

You don’t answer; just do one thing, your heart pounding loudly in your ears. You close the last few inches and press your lips to his.

They are soft and plush against yours, making your insides warm and glowing. Then, Anthony makes a noise in the back of his throat, and suddenly, he is kissing you back. So ferociously, you squeak into his mouth as he opens your lips and slides his tongue over yours, his strong arms pulling you into an embrace so you are enveloped by his warm body.

Good lord.

You feel like you are drowning in him as he grabs your jaw, directing the kiss, turning it into something wholly other. Your lips move endlessly together as you both greedily take from the other for what seems like ages. When you pull apart, you are both heaving breaths and staring at each other, almost confused.

“Don’t you dare do that again,” you snarl, wanting to rip every item of clothing from your body and his.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he responds airily.

And then you crash into each other again. Drinking desperately from each other's mouths, powerless to resist whatever flame draws you together.

He walks you backwards as your tongues tangle, and you startle slightly as your bottom hits his imposing desk. Hands loop around your thighs, and he hoists you into the surface, never breaking the intoxicating kiss.

He tries to step between your legs, but your column dress is too tight to allow it. You attempt to wiggle the hem upwards as you kiss, then, with a frustrated grunt, he bats your hands away and, using a strength that shocks you, rips the silk material asunder from the hem to your hip.

“I loved this dress!” you decry over his lips, unwilling to admit you’d destroy every single dress you own if he just kept kissing you like this.

“I’ll buy you another,” he dismisses, pushing your thighs wide with his hands. “I’ll buy you as many as you want.”

“You had better,” you challenge, scarcely able to believe you even have the wherewithal to debate with him, especially as this is the first time a man has ever touched your bare leg.

He pulls back from the kiss to stare intently into your eyes as his fingertips trace from your kneecap up the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You don’t mean to, but you tremble, having never been touched this way before. You gasp as his palm cups the apex of your thighs, his hand feeling so warm through the thin silk protecting your modesty, his fingers swirling circles over your patch of hair as the heel of his palm presses against your slit.

“I can feel your heat,” he hisses.

You can barely process what is happening, your body rioting as he touches and teases you, staring you down. Instinctively, you reach for the tiny buttons at your hip, but your hands fall away as he flicks his middle finger downwards and catches a nub that makes your body buck.

“Anthony,” it falls from your lips unbidden with a halting breath. It may well be the first time you have uttered his first name in his presence.

He groans at the sound. “Please, always say my name like that,” he pleads through gritted teeth.

So you repeat it, the same intonation, even as that finger drags slowly up and down over the swollen pearl between your legs, undone by how good it feels.

“Are you chaste?” he inquires; it’s not judgemental in tone, just pure curiosity, his ministrations lighter.

“Yes,” you admit quietly, “but I do know of the marital act”, you add, wanting him to know you are not entirely innocent.

“Hmm,” he hums, looking at once thoughtful and blistering, his finger moving more insistently again, “I am glad to hear it. Then you shall not be entirely shocked by what is about to happen?”

“So… we are to undertake it? The act?” you stutter, his finger making you feel so good you have to bite your lip.

But he doesn’t answer your question directly.

“Wife, how attached are you to these undergarments?” his tone almost idle, cocking his head to the side as his gaze lingers over them.

You shrug practically. “I have many exactly the same.”

Then, you gasp loudly as the sound of silk tearing fills the room. You are quaking as the warm air of his study swirls around your exposed, damp slit. He shocks you by dropping to his knees before you. Pushing your thighs wide on his desk and looking up at you with burningly intense eyes, he presses his face to your flesh, inhaling deeply, his nose buried in your pubic hair before his tongue peeks out and nudges the swollen nub he was teasing through the silk.

Your mouth drops open, and something inhuman escapes your lungs. Then he does it again, this time enclosing the whole area between his lips and sucking hard on your flesh, tongue curling and ploughing into your folds. The heat, the suction, the muscular swipe of his tongue feels so good your mind blanks out, a tremor in your splayed thighs that he holds forcibly open with warm hands. He keeps doing so for a few moments as your fingernails curl hard into the edge of his desk, scarcely able to do anything but writhe and gently moan. IIdly you think upon all of your curious research, never once had you heard of or read about a man doing as he is now, placing his head between his wife’s thighs and sniffing, drinking from her body.

“You are plenty ready for me, wife,” he huffs, his warm breath tickling your responsive folds, little ripples of pleasure deep inside scattering your thoughts. “Are you averse to me taking you right here?” he waves a hand nonchalantly at his large, imposing carved wooden desk.

“I… I rather thought su-such things could only ha-happen in a bed,” you confess stiltedly, a quiver in your voice.

He smirks up from between your thighs, turning his head to kiss the fragile skin there. “Oh, no, wife. We can fuck anywhere we please…” he pauses and looks sincere, “however, should you prefer a bed…”

“Here is fine,” you rush out, so very keen to have your husband make a woman of you. As if leaving this room may break the spell you are under. Location be damned. You just want to know him. He smirks again, placing a final quick kiss on your flesh, looking very pleased at your response.

“I wholeheartedly concur,” he rumbles as he hoists himself back up to stand, stepping inwards to rock his clothed pelvis against your pulsing nub. There is something hot and swollen in his trousers now, and you realise this must be his member.

“Show it to me,” you enthuse, nodding at the insistent bulge.

“So very impatient all of a sudden, wife,” he scolds with a bemused chuckle, grabbing your wrist and guiding your hand over the bump. It feels so hot and steely even through the fabric. “Unbutton me,” he orders casually, pointing to the fastening at his hip.

Exuberantly, you undo them quickly, keen to see if his member matches the sketches you have viewed. As the front of his trousers falls away, he quickly pushes down his white underwear. There, nestled in a thatch of dark hair at the base, is your husband's cock. Your eyes widen at the sight. It seems more considerable than the drawings you have seen, and you are temporarily taken aback by how red and almost angry it looks at the tip.

“Go ahead, touch it,” Anthony encourages, and with a slight tremble in your fingers, you reach forward and make contact with him.

“Oh!” you exclaim without thought, “it’s so soft, your skin, and so hot!”

He chuckles warmly at your assessment. “Indeed,” he huffs as you wrap your hand instinctively around it, feeling its weight and mass in your palm.

“This will not fit inside me, surely?” you blurt out.

“It will, I promise,” his tone mellow, tinged with understanding even as his breath staccatos when you start to move your hand, the instinct to rub inexplicable, but seemingly precisely what he wants. “Yes, perfect,” he rasps, eyes closing and tongue peaking out to lick his lips.

The odd mix of total honesty and soft appreciation between you as you acquaint yourselves with each other's bodies seems very apt, as if this is the only way such a development would ever transpire. And you realise, as you cradle his most intimate parts, that you trust this man with your very being. Despite your bickering, there is a thread of mutual respect under it that makes you feel safe, seen, and known in a way that no other person has.

“Take me now, husband,” you rattle through your teeth, watching a bead of something sticky form at the tip of his cock as you squeeze him in hypnotic, repetitive motions. The sight makes something in your body turn to fiery liquid, wanting him and that substance inside yourself in a way that doesn't make logical sense.

He growls at your words, grabbing your hand away from his cock and bringing it to his mouth, kissing the back of your knuckles as your eyes lock, a chaste, almost romantic interlude.

But then his hands grab your hips and haul you almost roughly to the very edge of the desk, your torn dress framing your splayed thighs, his trousers around his ankles as he takes his cock in hand and rubs the tip over your folds of flesh in a way that makes you moan under your breath.

“Are you certain?” he checks, even as he pants anticipatorily.

“God, yes,” you confirm, craving him in a way you have never felt about anything before. An urgent hook tugging deep inside your loins, calling to him like a siren song.

“Watch,” he murmurs darkly, his other hand rounding the back of your neck so your gaze is tilted down to where his cock nudges your opening.

So you do, as does he. Stare down to where your body meet, hissing loudly as his tip slips inside your soaked channel. Your eyes want to roll back at the sheer overwhelming sensation of it, but equally, it's such an enthralling sight that you can’t look away.

He moans loudly, lewdly, decadently as he pushes further into your heat, pausing to readjust your legs wider and tilt your pelvis more open.

“This next part may hurt, darling,” he whispers quietly, the first time he has ever used such an affectionate term for you, making your heart race.

“It's alright,” you reassure mutely in return, “I have heard as such.”

The hand around the back of your neck slides gently until he tilts your chin up to meet his tender gaze.

“You are quite the woman,” he says, almost reverential, as he leans in and captures your lips in a sweet, soft kiss.

The movement propels his cock deeper into your body, and you cry out into his open mouth at a stab of sharp pain inside.

“That's it done,” he mutters reassuringly into your lips as you whimper gently.

He stills as you adjust to the girth, the heat, and feeling so very filled.

“More…” falls from your mouth spontaneously, the want rising, hungry for a need to be met, a thirst slaked, unlike anything you have experienced.

The smile that breaks out over his face makes your nipples pebble hard in your stays, and he slides deeper as you cling to him, exhaling unevenly as he keeps sinking further into your pussy, pushing you open. Just when you think you cannot take more, he stops, and you feel his body pressing wholly against yours.

You stare at each other, eyes wild and wide, unable to form words but knowing instinctually how good this feels for both of you. He looks untamed, something urgent rippling in his being. And without breaking the gaze, he pulls his hips back until just the head of his cock is inside you, then ploughs back in, in one determined, decisive stroke.

You don't stop the decadent noise that escapes your lungs, your toes curling into the soles of your feet at how wonderful and all-encompassing that feels. Same as you don't miss the victorious smirk on his face at your reaction.

Then it’s a hungry blur of movement as your hands grab his biceps through his clothing, clinging on for dear life as he proceeds to move just like that first thrust. Over and over. Building in pace and with increasing intensity, him sensing your need for such things.

“Anthony…” his name spills over your lips again, and the impact on him is nothing short of extraordinary.

His hands clamp vicelike to your hips, branding heatedly over your skin through your dress, straining the tendons of your inner thighs as he pushes your legs open impossibly wide, his pelvis crashing into yours in a way you are certain may leave bruises. And what shocks you most is just how much you want it. Want him to leave signs of his presence, want to look in the mirror and see the outline of his digits in the globes of your bottom.

He moans your name, hot and desperate, into your ear, his pace never wavering, a drop of sweat forming on his forehead that you can't look away from when he pulls back to tilt your heads together.

“I want to see,” you stumble out, pantingly, as he takes you harder.

“See what?” he sounds almost winded, his thrusts still spearing his cock into your body.

“See you entering me,” you huff into his cheek.

His responding noise is feral and has every inch of your body alight. He bows his spine outward so your bodies only touch where you are joined, and his hand feels heated and heavy on the back of your neck as you tilt your chin down to take in the sight.

His cock, rigid and huge, ploughing repeatedly into your body, shining with a slick substance you can only assume is from within you, the sight making you shudder, but not with anything approaching disgust. It’s something primal. A need to chase a conclusion, the power of the vivid tableau burned into your retinas.

“Don't stop, please don't stop,” you petition, looking back up to his face, your hands sliding up and down his torso now, raking urgent fingernails over his clothing.

He swears, and his lips are back on yours, searing and demanding. This feels like a frantic wave you are riding together, a trickle of moisture running down your spine as you start to push your hips forward as much as you can, meeting his thrusts halfway.

“You are fucking perfect,” he snarls over your tongue, and you couldn't agree more.

Time seems elastic as he lowers you so your back rests on the piles of no doubt important paperwork, not that he pays it any mind, him hunched over you, pulling your hips out over the edge now, the range of motion it allows him making you gasp. He is taking you without mercy now, breath hot on your throat as he moans your name, his hand squirrelling between your bodies and making your vision dance with dots as he passes a slightly calloused tip over your clit.

“Come for me,” he breathes, the request both hopeful and commanding.

“What does that mean?” your question puffed into his lush hairline.

“Oh my darling, just you wait,” his voice dripping with promise even as your skin feels like it wants to vibrate off your very bones as his fingers and cock take you somewhere you never envision. An ecstasy both outside but rooted deep in your being.

He murmurs encouragingly as you struggle for air, your lungs burning, scarcely remembering to breathe, skating some kind of precipice that feels dangerous and addictive. Then, with a flick of his thumb and a gentle bite of your earlobe, you fall into an abyss. Everything all at once quiet and loud, eyes screwed shut as colours burst behind them, and every fibre of your being seems to snap and break, rearranging in a mind-shattering way. Your pussy convulsing hard around his cock that now seems impossibly large.

Then, with a deep booming cry, you feel him lance deeper than ever, his whole body tensing and jerking. A warmth spreads inside, and you vaguely realise he is reaching completion, spilling his seed inside you. For what seems like ages, your mind and body float somewhere, utterly sated, suddenly understanding why this act can be so all-consuming and there is so much written of it.

When your mind returns to the room, you are panting into each other's necks, both breathlessly stunned at how animalistic your first intimacy was. Somehow, your antagonistic chemistry transmuting into an explosive, consuming passion.

“We are going to bed right now,” his tone wrecked, rough, so damn irresistible you want to bite his flesh, even while you still recover from what transpired. Fires stoked again just by those seven words.

He pulls up his trousers haphazardly, picks you up bridal-style, and sweeps you out of his office and up the grand staircase, ignoring the shocked looks of staff at your torn dress and his roughly pulled clothing.

“We are not to be disturbed,” he barks at his valet, who blanches and leaves the room as Anthony practically throws you onto his imposing four-poster bed. Then, as you lay there, he strips naked before you, and you want to nuzzle every inch of his toned, magnificent body.

___

It’s three days before you reemerge from what is now your joint bedroom. From that day on, you are never without your husband for more than two days; such is your magnetic need for each other. And when your belly swells with the first of your many children, he confesses his ardent, undying love for you, you returning the sentiment instantly, having felt the same for what seems like forever.

A hurried, naive pact between two proud, independent souls becoming something wholly other—a loving, passionate marriage of equals. You still squabble with unerring frequency, but now it ends in lovemaking, the intensity sweeping you both into an ephemeral bliss.

A beneficial arrangement indeed.

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flightlessangelwings · 9 months

Text

Mando M.C.

Biker!Din Djarin x fem!reader Word count- 6.1k Prompts- AU fic, hurt/comfort, “Do you trust me?” “You can’t go until I tell you” “I can’t stop thinking about you” Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), biker au, hurt/comfort, pining, feelings, protective!Din, attempted kidnapping, nondescript violence, minor character death, reader is a sex worker and uses “Amarilis” as a fake name (it’s explicitly said so), same no removing helmet rules, no use of y/n Notes- Written for @pedrostories 1k celebration, congrats you guys y’all deserve it!! The fake name "Amarilis" is a nod to my good friend @olliwan-kenobi own biker!Din au which I have a cameo in under that name, so it's something special to me! I had a lot of fun with this one, and I just can never get enough of biker au's!! And we respect sex workers in this house (and so does Din and the rest of the Mandos)!! Enjoy!! @flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so feel free to also follow that and turn on post notifications to stay up to date on when I post new fics! Moodboard made by me! The Din vibes in that right pic are immaculate omg!

The roar of the motorcycle echoed in the wind as the Mandalorian drove down the open road. It was a crisp, bright Nevarro day, and the long winding road was the biker’s for the taking. On the sleek black and silver bike, he could go anywhere, do anything, see anyone. But right now, there was only one place he wanted to be.

“Welcome back, Mando,” the lady of the house greeted his helmeted form as he stepped through the familiar doors.

“Madame Luna,” he nodded his head in a friendly greeting.

Neither of them knew the other’s true identities; no one used their real names behind the doors of the brothel. Madame Luna, the beautiful, tall and commanding mistress was in charge here, and she always made sure her girls were safe, protected and taken care of. It was the place to be, both as a worker and a client.

“I’m here to see…”

“I know who you’re here to see,” Madame Luna interrupted, “You always see her,” she bat her eyelashes at the leather-clad and helmeted biker, “Are you sure I can’t keep you company today, Mando?”

“I’m sure,” his tone was firm yet kind.

Before either could say anything, your hushed voice came from behind the mistress of the brothel, “Mando…” Although his chapter was well known for never removing their helmets, you recognized his silhouette anywhere.

He turned his helmet towards you and you saw his shoulders visibly relax, “Amarilis.”

No real names.

Mando looked you up and down and his fist involuntarily clenched at the sight of you. You were draped in a black silk robe and you leaned against the frame of the doorway. Like all the others who worked at the brothel, you were styled to perfection to attract those who patronized there, but there was something different about you. Something about your energy that no one else possessed drew Mando in.

“Mando,” you repeated in a more sure tone as you reached your hand out to him, “Follow me.”

Madame Luna smirked as she watched the two of you pass by, “Enjoy yourself, Mando.”

The brothel itself was dimly lit, but clean. It was frequented by many different motorcycle clubs in the area, but it was also a designated neutral space. Even if rivals were seen in the halls, it was a no-violence building. Mando himself was the one who put the deal together so that no one who worked there, no one who wasn’t involved, would ever be caught in any crossfire.

It kept you safe.

Your hand felt warm in the Mandalorian’s gloved one as you took him into your room. It was simple, yet the space’s purpose was as plain as day. The bed sat on the far end of the small space and it was adorned with silk sheets that matched your robe. A small dresser sat on the other end, and he knew what the drawers held. Light in the room was minimal, yet it was just enough to highlight your silhouette. With the door closed and locked, you let go of his hand and looked him up and down as you fiddled with the sash of your robe.

“It’s been a while since you’ve been by, Din,” your voice was soft as your robe opened to reveal nothing but tiny lace black panties underneath, “Everything ok?”

Din’s breath hitched in his throat as he took off his gloves, the only piece of clothing that he ever removed, “Fine,” he replied as he reached out and caressed your body gently, “Guild’s been busy lately,” his gruff voice echoed from under his helmet as he felt his pants tighten. No matter how many times he saw you, it was like the first time, and his heart pounded in his chest every time.

“I was worried,” you looked into the darkness that was the visor of his helmet and imagined his eyes looking back at you. You opened your mouth to say something more, but you left it unspoken… I missed you.

Din breathed your real name as he pulled you flush against him, “Are you alright?”

Your smile lit up the room, “I am now,” your voice was raw yet hushed as you backed up both your bodies towards the bed, “But you’re here on business… So let’s get to it,” your tone turned more sultry as you bumped into the bedframe.

A single soft chuckle escaped his lips as his hands ran up and down your slides, memorizing every dip and curve of your body. Your skin warmed as you felt his eyes devour your figure, even if you couldn’t see them. Both of you let out harmonizing groans as Din hooked his fingers on the elastic of your panties and coaxed them over your hips and down your legs, dropping down to his knees as he did so.

Din’s eyes landed on your pussy, already wet for him, and he let out a low growl. His eyes ran down the length of your legs as you stepped out of the small piece of fabric. But, as you were about to use your foot to fling them aside, he grabbed your ankle, caressing you as he reached down and picked the panties up off the floor. Without looking, Din tossed them over his shoulder, and you let out a laugh as they landed right on the door handle.

“You know how I like you,” Din purred as he stood and guided your body onto the bed.

You let out another soft chortle before you rolled over onto your stomach, comfortable on the plush bed and silk sheets. You let out a whimper as you felt his calloused hands roam over your back. Din’s touch was always surprisingly tender for how strong and tough a man he was on the outside. Goosebumps erupted on your skin as he cupped your ass and gave it a firm squeeze, and you heard him groan as he kneaded the soft flesh.

A contented sigh escaped your lips as you buried your face in the sheets and Din positioned himself behind you. You heard the faint sound of his belt clicking and you felt the mattress dip by your legs. Shifting yourself so that your knees propped your ass up a bit, you heard Din let out a low growl as you presented your dripping pussy for him.

“Good girl,” the words slipped out before he would stop himself, but it only turned both of you on more.

“Din…”

He ran his fingers across your folds, savoring the wetness he felt there before he pushed two fingers inside you with little resistance. You moaned into the sheets as he slowly pumped his fingers in and out of you, getting you ready for his cock. Din was always so soft with you, as if he was worried he would break you if he went too hard. You almost would have wanted him to be a little rougher, but you also craved the way he handled you so tenderly.

Din groaned as he pulled his now soaking wet fingers out of you, and if it weren’t for his helmet, he would have licked them clean. But, his aching cock demanded his attention first, and instead he used his slick-coated fingers to pump himself a few times before he lined himself up with your pussy.

Slowly, Din pushed his cock into you, making both of you gasp at the same time. You clutched into the sheets as you felt his thick cock stretch you out inch by delicious inch. And Din could not look away as your pussy lips wrapped around him as he felt your warmth engulf him more and more. It was a connection unlike anything else either of you had felt, yet neither of you spoke the feelings out loud. To both of you, this was just business, At least that was the lie you both told yourselves.

“Fuck,” Din growled as he bottomed out inside of you and leaned forward so that his leather-clad body covered your bare one.

He held onto your hips as he positioned himself to thrust in and out of you. But, Din frowned from under the helmet when you hissed in pain.

“You ok?” he asked in a whisper.

“Yes,” you replied instantly, “Please, keep going.”

Din released his grip so that only his body weight kept you pinned underneath him as he slowly rocked back a bit. Gently, carefully, tenderly, he thrust forward, feeling your tight muscles around him once more. When you only moaned in pleasure, Din kept his slow yet precise pace.

With your face buried in the sheets, Din used the leverage of your back against his helmet to tilt it up just enough so that his lips were exposed, allowing him to place a series of open mouthed kisses on your back. You moaned loudly as you felt the tickle of his little hairs, his soft lips, and the sharp angle of his nose against your bare skin, and it almost made you cum then and there.

“You…” you moaned, “You can go harder… If you want… Din…” you breathed heavily as he thrust into you over and over again.

Din’s cock twitched as you begged for him. And though he never wanted to hurt you, he also couldn’t deny your request. He groaned your name as he wrapped his arms around you, propping himself up on his knees so he would pound into you harder. As he adjusted your bodies, his helmet slid back down, covering his face entirely once more.

You cried out in pleasure as you suddenly found yourself in Din’s lap, his cock buried even deeper inside you at his new angle, as his arms held you firmly against his chest. With the new angle, your moans echoed freely in the room as he thrust into you harder and faster. And all you could do was hold on to him whenever you could grasp.

And you loved it.

Skin slapped against skin as groaned from both of you filled the room. Din kept his grip on you tight, yet not painful. And he was careful, even lost in his bliss, not to grab onto your hip where it caused you pain. As he thrust into you at his new angle, Din again used your shoulder to push his helmet up enough to free his lips so he could nibble on your skin. It was the closest he would get to kissing you.

“Fuck… Din… I’m…”

He moved his hand and rubbed at your clit, and he growled when he felt your inner muscles clench around his cock, “Cum for me, mesh’la…”

The room spun and you saw stars as your climax hit hard. You felt so wonderfully helpless in his arms as he pounded into you over and over again, hitting your sweet spot with precision. You moaned his name as a string of curses flowed from your lips as you rode out your orgasm on his cock.

Din loved to make you cum. Feeling you fall apart in his arms, knowing how vulnerable you were in that moment, and seeing how beautiful you looked, turned him on like nothing else. And as he held you tightly in your high, Din’s own climax soon followed and he bit down on your shoulder to stifle his own groans as he spilled himself deep inside you.

Once both of you were spent, Din rolled your bodies forward and you both collapsed onto the bed. His helmet dropped back down as your body bounced on the mattress while his own stayed over on shaky arms. Heavy breaths filled the room as neither of you moved for several long moments. You lied on your stomach, your eyes closed in contentment as you caught your breath and tried to calm your pounding heartbeat.

It was Din who broke the silence as he cupped the side of your face, “You ok?” he asked in a raspy voice.

You grinned before you opened your eyes, “Never better,” you replied as you finally opened your eyes and were met with his familiar figure hovering over you. Having never seen his face, you imagined what he looked like under the helmet. You imagined soft eyes and a kind smile. And something in you said that his eyes were brown. You had caught a slight glimpse of his hair a few times when he obviously needed it cut, and your heart fluttered at the thought of being able to run your fingers through those soft brown waves that stuck out from under his helmet.

Unaware of your internal conflict, Din extended a hand to help you up, and both of you almost gasped as a jolt pulsed through your connected hands. He cleared his throat though, and bent down and picked up your robe before he stood and strode over to the door where your discarded panties lay. You slipped your robe over your shoulders and held it closed as you watched his fingers nimbly slide them off the handle.

You studied the broadness of his back, covered completely by the leather jacket of his motorcycle club. On the back was a large skull, the Mythosaur, with the words “Mandalorian Motorcycle Club” around it. On his shoulder, Din had a patch with a mudhorn- his personal emblem. From being with Mandos from other chapters who did remove their helmets and jackets, you guessed he had both tattooed on his body. You were sure he had other tattoos as well, but the only one you ever saw was the little bullseye on his hand.

As Din turned back to you, instead of handing your panties back like you expected, he let out a mischievous exhale and balled them up before stuffing them in his leather jacket pocket. You practically saw the smirk that laid hidden behind the visor from the way his breath hitched.

You smirked, “I usually charge extra for that you know,” your tone was playful. Another Mandalorian, who always dressed in blue and silver and had a very handsome face, a sexy accent, and flirty demeanor, was actually one of your best customers in that regard.

“I know,” Din’s voice matched yours in friskiness. And you could tell he smiled back at you with a little gleam in his eye. Without another word, he came back and settled on the bed next to you, and you were sure your heart would burst from your chest as you listened to the sound of his breathing from under his helmet.

“I always look forward to your visits, Din,” you broke the silence with a light tone.

He let out a single amused huff, I do too…

Silence once again came over the two of you as you sat side by side on the bed. Your eyes looked around the room as you suddenly felt nervous at his side. The roughness of his leather jacket rubbed against your skin, yet it was a feeling you craved. Ever since the first time he came to you, there was something about Din that made him different from anyone else. You even trusted him enough with your real name, and he did the same.

That had to mean something, right?

“So…” you cleared your throat, “How’s Grogu?”

That made Din let out an amused chuckle, “That kid is gonna eat me out of house and home,” he laughed softly, “But he’s good. The covert is watching him right now.”

You sat in a comfortable silence before you burst into laughter.

“What is it?” Din asked, secretly savoring the sound of your laugh.

“Nothing,” you covered your face, “It’s just…” you tried to calm yourself before you continued, “I was just thinking about the first time you came here,” you snorted, “In all my years of working here, I’d never seen a man come by with his kid before.”

Din let out an amused huff, “Ok, yeah laugh it up.” But, he also couldn’t help but remember that day too. He was on the hunt for a bounty, and Grogu stayed with him in a little sidecar that Din had made for him. He had come by looking for information, and you were the one who had what he needed. Din was taken with you from the moment he laid eye on you, and he made a silent promise to return without the kid to see you more. And it was a promise he kept over and over again.

“No, no,” you waved your hands, “I didn’t mean anything by it,” you rested your hand on his knee, “I just mean you’re different… In a good way.”

“Thanks,” he huffed as his heart pounded in his chest from the way you held onto his leg.

After a few moments of calm silence, you spoke up again, “I have to say, Din,” you chuckled, “Your MC sounds more like a family than any other group that’s ever come around here.”

Din turned to you but said nothing.

“I don’t mean it in a bad way,” you raised your hands in defense, “It’s just funny how a group of bikers who have a reputation for never showing their faces and being the toughest out there are actually the easiest to get along with.”

Many members of Din’s covert came by this brothel, and he was sure that others he knew had also been with you. He wasn’t jealous, though, even if he wanted to be. He had to claim to you, and you were both free to do what you wanted and needed when the other wasn’t around. This was your job after all, just like he had his line of work. Din was only concerned for your safety, that was all. And at least he knew the other’s in his covert would treat you well.

“That really big guy had been here a few times actually,” you continued, “He wears blue…”

Din nodded, knowing you meant Paz.

“Want to know a secret?” you leaned in with a grin on your face, “He puts on a big macho guy act… But he’s even gentler than you,” you couldn’t help but burst into laughter, which Din joined in, “Please don’t tell anyone though. He would kill me!”

“Your secret is safe with me,” Din promised. Although it amused him to be privy to that information. As the laughter died down, though, Din turned more serious, “There is something I do need,” he said plainly.

“There always is,” you sighed as you turned to face him, “Who is the unlucky bastard this time?”

It was what brought him to you in the first place. Being the most sought after brothel in Nevarro, many came by here looking for the same thing Din did. But, it also proved advantageous for his job as a bounty hunter, and the two of you struck a deal that you would help him find his targets in exchange for a cut.

Din pulled out a photo and handed it to you, and his face morphed into a deep scowl under the helmet when he saw the way your face dropped and a gasp escaped your lips.

“You know him?” he asked in a low tone, “Did he hurt you?” every muscle in his body tensed.

You swallowed hard and nodded, “His group asked for a girl for a party two days ago and it paid well so I volunteered,” your hands trembled as you clenched the photo, “They weren’t too bad, just a little rougher than I expected.”

They just unknowingly signed their death certificates. “Where can I find them?” he growled.

A gasp escaped your lips at his sudden change in tone, and you weren’t quite sure what to make of it. You turned to Din and saw the way his fists clenched and his posture stiffened. You had become good at reading his body language over the time he had been coming to you, and you could tell he was pissed. And yet, it made your heart beat even faster.

Before you answered him, you grabbed his shoulders and straddled his waist, facing him as he remained seated on the bed, “How about another round first,” you purred as you rocked your hips against his and let your robe fall open, “On the house…”

Din groaned as he immediately rested his hands on your hips, careful not to hurt you but still hold you securely, “Yeah?” he asked with an obvious smirk in his tone.

“Yeah,” you whispered as you leaned in closer, your pulse running wild as he rested his helmeted forehead against yours.

It was dark by the time Din reached his destination: a rival MC’s clubhouse. He didn’t tell you the whole story; you didn’t need to know. But, his target, and the others in the group, were part of a new club that had been terrorizing the borders of Nevarro. They were a threat to the Mandalorians, and to everyone who lived closeby, so they had to be taken care of. Quickly and quietly. And being the best at what he did, Din volunteered to be the one to take the job. But, since he found out that they had hurt you too, it suddenly became more personal for him.

By the looks of the clubhouse, most of the group was there, and they all passed out after another night of heavy partying. Din rode his bike close enough that he would walk towards the dimmed house without being heard or spotted. His breaths came out in short, heavy bursts as he fastened a silencer on his gun and readied himself.

Without a sound, Din made his way through the back doors, taking out the two prospects that slept on the porch on the way. The floors creaked softly as he stepped inside, but he quickly shot three more men who were passed out drunk nearby. He crossed the doorway into another room where he fired on more unsuspecting, sleeping bikers.

But, as he got into the main room, one of them stirred and shouted as he recognized the figure in the shadows as an intruder. The rest of the men who snored on the floors and couches quickly snapped alert and reached for their guns.

“Shit,” Din cursed under his breath as he ducked for cover.

He easily took out two of the five men who fired at him before he ran towards another. Din evaded fire from the drunken men, shooting one of them dead on his way towards his target. With an angry growl, he tackled the man in the photo he showed you to the ground, punching him and nearly knocking him out as they collided with the floor.

“How…” the man wheezed, “How did you find us?”

“A friend,” Din answered in a voice that even he barely recognized, “Someone you hurt… And you will pay for…”

“Fuck,” he coughed as the realization became plain on his face. He didn’t have time to worry about it too long, though, as Din punched him several more times until the red on his face matched the rage that pulsed though Din’s veins.

With a heavy sigh, Din finally leaned back and surveyed the room. Bodies laid scattered all over the place, and the smell already started to invade his senses. But, before he could relax his tense shoulders and call the job done, a gunshot rang through the air, and Din quickly launched himself behind one of the couches for cover.

“You’ll pay for this, Mando!” a voice screamed over another gunshot, “I know there’s only one person who could have told you where to find us,” he sneered darkly as he holstered his gun and ran towards his bike, “I’ll have to pay her a visit…”

“No…” Din breathed as he bolted towards the man who already mounted his bike. Din pulled out his gun and fired several times as he started to ride away, but he missed every time. “Shit,” he spat as his heart pounded in his chest. He ran in the opposite direction toward his own bike parked in the shadows and he prayed to the Maker that he would reach you in time.

The sun was just starting to set the next day as you bid farewells to the others inside the brothel and stepped out back. You closed your eyes and took in a deep breath, savoring the fresh air as the sun warmed your skin. Turning to lock the door behind you, you faintly heard the sound of a motorcycle in the distance, but you didn’t think anything of it. Bikers came by almost daily, and you were confident that Din wouldn’t be back so soon.

Suddenly, a gloved hand clasped over your face, covering your mouth while another strong hand grabbed your arm and yanked you against a strong body. You tried to scream, but your cries were muffled by the hand over your mouth, and your struggles were useless since the stranger who grabbed you was bigger and stronger than you.

“You think you can tell your Mando fuckbuddy where to find us and get away with it? Huh?” a familiar voice sneered in your ear, “Well I’m going to make you pay for that, bitch!”

You gasped as you knew that voice: the vice president from the group that Din was after. The same one that you entertained at a party just a few days prior. Realizing just how dire your situation was, you failed your body and tried to fight back. But, he only laughed darkly at your attempts to free yourself.

But, just as quickly as his hands were on you, they were suddenly ripped away and you fell forward towards the door. Turning around, you saw Din’s figure blocking you from your attacker. He acted so fast, pulling out his gun and shooting the man twice in the head without a second thought. You gasped as you saw the blood pool underneath the other biker’s now lifeless body and your eyes went wide. It wasn’t until you heard your name in Din’s comforting voice that you pulled your eyes away.

“Hey,” he cupped your face and guided you to look into his helmet, “Don’t look,” he breathed your name again as he looked you over, “Are you alright? Did he hurt you?”

You looked at Din wide-eyed for several moments before you swallowed hard and shook your head, “No,” you whispered, “I’m… I’m ok… But Din…”

“Listen to me,” the urgency was clear in his voice, “Go back inside and stay there until I come back,” Din tightened his grip on you, “I have to get rid of the body. I’ll be back in one hour. Do not leave until I come for you. Ok?”

You nodded as you trembled in his grip, “Ok.”

Both of you knew why he had to act fast. The truce that Din himself helped to create to make the brothel a safe and neutral zone had just been violated. If anyone were to find out, it could be all out war between the MCs. But, none of that mattered to Din. He would break a thousand truces if it meant keeping you safe.

So many thoughts ran through your head as you sat inside waiting for Din to return. But, at the same time, the hour went by in an instant and before you knew it, he knocked at your door once more.

“You alright?” he asked again as he took your hand.

“Yeah…” your voice sounded vacant, as if you weren’t fully there.

“Come with me,” Din helped you up and led you to his bike, “I’m getting you out of here until we know it’s safe again. Here,” he handed you his spare helmet, “I’ll keep you safe.”

Your gaze dropped down to the helmet in his hand and for a moment you felt like you weren’t in your body. But, Din’s words kept you grounded and brought you back, “I know you will,” you replied as you slid it on and got on the back of his bike, wrapping your arms around his strong torso.

“Hold on,” he said over his shoulder before he took off.

The wind in your face wasn’t bitter, but calming. With each gust of air, you smelled the scent of his leather jacket and the warmth of his body remained a comfort for you as he drove you far away from the brothel. If it were any other circumstance, the bike ride would have been exhilarating, but the mix of emotions almost drowned out the excitement of finally getting to ride the bike with him. You buried your face in his board shoulder as he revved the bike to go faster down the long, winding road.

“We’re here,” Din shouted over the roar of his bike.

You looked up and saw a small house in the middle of nowhere. There wasn’t much to it, but you noticed a small pond in the front and a lot of trees surrounding it. It looked tucked away and hard to find, but it also felt warm and welcoming at the same time.

“Where are we?” you asked as Din helped you slip the helmet off.

“A safe house,” he said plainly as he led you inside.

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you took in the surroundings. The house wasn’t anything special, just a small kitchen and living space, with doors for a bathroom and 2 small bedrooms. But it felt comforting… and familiar. Not as if you’d been there before, but you knew who it belonged to…

“This is your house isn’t it?” you asked in a breathless tone.

Din turned to you and stared at you for a long moment, “Yeah,” his voice was just as soft, “Grogu likes to play in the pond outside… He’s good at catching frogs,” he tried to lighten the mood a bit. When you looked at him and smiled softly, it made his heart skip a beat.

“It feels like you,” you replied as you wrapped your arms around yourself.

“Are you cold?” Din sounded concerned as he pulled you close and guided you to the couch on the far end of the room.

“No… I’m not sure why I did that.” You felt nervous all of a sudden, like you did the first time you were alone with Din. Before you knew his name, and he knew yours. Something about being in his home made things feel different. You felt safe, that wasn’t the issue. What you weren’t sure about was what this meant for the two of you now. The way he didn’t hesitate to kill a man, to break a truce, to protect you. The way he held you so tenderly and let you into his home. It had to mean something…

“Hey,” Din said your name so sweetly as he cupped your face, “You’re safe here,” the resolve in his voice sent a shiver up your spine as he held you, “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You swallowed hard as you looked at him wide eyed.

Din rubbed his thumb across your cheek as his own heart pounded in his chest, “Do you trust me?”

You looked into the darkness of his helmet and swore you saw his eyes looking back at you, “Yes,” you breathed without hesitation.

He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a bandana, something his people always kept in case their helmets came off, and gently rolled it before he brought it up to your eyes and securely fastened it.

“That ok?” his low voice felt louder in your ears as your sight was completely blocked.

“Yeah,” your voice trembled as you sat in the darkness and listened for his next movement.

Din slid his helmet off and set it down with a soft thud. He blinked his eyes to adjust to the soft light that the low sun illuminated the room with as you let out a deep breath. You looked so beautiful in the setting sun, and Din couldn’t help but reach out for you once more, tracing your face with his hands.

You gasped when you felt his breath on your face for the very first time. “Din…” you breathed as you reached out and clung to his leather jacket.

With a low murmur of your name, Din closed the gap between your faces with a deep and passionate kiss. You immediately parted your lips to allow him in, and the taste of his tongue on your made all the emotions you felt bubble to the surface and explode. He groaned into you as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in as close as possible while he explored your mouth. Din swallowed the whimper you let out as he kissed you even harder, allowing the kiss to voice all his unspoken feelings.

But, neither of you could stay locked together forever, and eventually you needed to break away for air. With a gasp, your chest rose and fell with deep breaths as you heard Din do the same. Without another word, he grabbed the back of your head and yanked you against him, burying your face in the crook of his neck. The leather of his jacket engulfed your senses and you rested against Din’s shoulder and settled into his arms.

“Listen… I…” Din started but stopped with a sigh as he struggled to find his words.

“Din?” you tried to push yourself up, but he kept you pinned against his broad, strong body.

“You can’t go until I tell you,” his voice wavered for the first time since you’d known him.

“What is it?” you asked in a whisper as you clung to his jacket.

“I was afraid,” he admitted with a sigh, “I… I didn’t know if I would get to you in time…” It was the first time in a long time something like this happened. The last time Din was this scared, Grogu had been taken to be used against him, and the rage he felt carried him until he got his kid back. It was a similar feeling to today, and it wasn’t something he ever wanted to feel again.

Before you could say anything though, Din continued, “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he brought his thoughts back to the present, “You and Grogu… You’re my world… You’re my everything,” he sighed, “I don’t know what I would do without either of you,” he paused as he felt you tighten your grip on him, “What I’m trying to say is…” Din let out a deep breath, “I love you.”

You choked back a sob as tears filled your eyes and dampened the bandana around your eyes, “Din…” you could’t believe the words you were hearing, but you also didn’t want to pinch yourself if you were dreaming, “I love you too,” you whispered.

Din responded by holding you even tighter, as if he couldn’t get you close enough. Having you here in his home, in his arms, was more than he could ask for. The two of you stayed like that until the sun completely set, leaving the world to be illuminated by the moon instead. And you looked even more beautiful in the light of the moon.

After some time, Din murmured in your ear, “Why don’t we go get the kid and bring him back home?”

“Home…” you echoed with a grin, “I like the sound of that.”

Din smiled against your face, and you felt the muscles in his cheek against yours, “I do too.”

Carefully, he slid his helmet back on and untied the bandana from your eyes, wiping away a stray tear as he did so. You blinked your eyes open and gave him the warmest smile as his hand cupped your jaw once more in his usual affectionate gesture.

“Want a ride?” he asked with a jovial tone in his voice.

You chuckled, “Yeah.”

Taking his hand, you went back to his bike and this time you both took your time setting onto it. You weren’t in a rush this time, and you could really appreciate the feeling of the motor beneath you and the strong, capable driver in front of you. Wrapping your arms around his waist again, you rested yourself on his shoulder, making yourself comfortable. Din touched the tip of his helmet against yours once before he revved the bike and took off. Together, the two of you flew down the road, towards your future.

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