Practically A Weasley 

twin flame: george weasley x reader

twin flame (n.): an intense soul connection, sometimes called a “mirror soul,” thought to be a person’s other half. it’s based on the idea that sometimes one soul gets split into two bodies. one of the main characteristics of a twin flame relationship is that it will be both challenging and healing. this is due to the mirroring nature of a twin flame; they show you your deepest insecurities, fears, and shadows. but they also help you overcome them and vice versa—your twin flame will be equally affected by you.

completed

add yourself to the taglist :)

key: ❁ smut, ☽ angst, ☼ fluff

part one ☽☼

part two ☽

part three ☽

part four ❁ ☼

epilogue ☼

draco malfoy moodboard

enough about the hair, lets talk about the hands

ASTRONOMICALLY DOWN BAD .

Eddie Munson + Details

"We kind of stitched [Eddie's vest] so it would look like he did it himself ... We added a belt buckle that has a handcuff on it ... We gave him a chain on the leather of his jacket, like maybe the zipper broke, and he tried to close it. So we really focused on little details."

take the edge off

pairing. eddie munson x female! reader  do not copy my work, i will find out. 

an. lets not talk about it !!!! at all!! ever !! let’s move on and live in denial !! pls comment and reblog if you like love u mwah! synopsis. you’ve been seeing eddie for a couple of months now. still, you’re not always able to voice your desires – don’t worry though, eddie’s able to read you like a book. 

warnings. 18+. minors do not interact with this fic or follow me. swearing, anxiety – slight panic attack but not a panic attack – kissing, almost being caught, drugs (edibles), slight sub space (you’re just really high), female receiving fondling and penetration, dominant eddie kinda, hand on throat (no choking), spit as lube (then real lube) – dealers choice universe but can be read separately. 

Keep reading

claire!! my love!!

i was just wondering if you could write me something for din using the prompts

“H-how long have you been standing there?” &

“Did you enjoy yourself last night?”

maybe you could also throw in a lil bit of din the dilf’s breeding kink??

(could you uh make it extra smutty and make my ovaries explode??)

thank you!! i love you!!!!

OMG Jo, seriously, you’re KILLING me over here. This was sooooo filthy and fun to write LOL. I hope you like it!! 😘

Word count: 5860+

Outline: “Mando”/Din x “You” (cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ ONLY; Din eavesdropping; female masturbation; Din physically crowding you up against a wall; a sprinkling of angst; blackout room conditions so Din can remove the helmet; breeding kink; unprotected P/V sex; Din has a filthy mind and a filthy praise-kink mouth to match; BREEDING KINK out the wazoo; a little bit of sexy anticipation, then a little bit of romance, and then just pure SMUT

You opened the door to the hallway after your shower and let the cool air wash over you as you got dressed. You knew Mando was up in the cockpit fiddling with something that was going to take a while, and the small bathroom was entirely too steamy for your liking. The vent fan never seemed to keep up with the hot water you luxuriated in after a mission like this.

You and Mando had been on a desert planet for three days, braving periodic dust storms to find the bounty, and the endless waves of dirt had seeped into your mouth and nose. It had even seemed to settle into your joints, making them ache. You finished toweling off and stepped into your underwear.

“Dammit!” Your foot caught on the waistband but you recovered your balance quickly. You started to wonder what would happen if Mando walked in on you, caught you naked. Would he even notice? He didn’t treat you like a woman while you were hunting or fighting together. If he saw you naked it would probably be nothing. He would probably treat you like you had simply taken off a cape or a glove.

But during the nine months you had spent with him, working alongside him, talking to him in the little short conversations he actually held with you, you had fallen in… maybe not love, but something like it. Lust maybe, or yearning, or something equally desperate. You didn’t want to call it love when you didn’t even know his name.

Thoughts of Mando were starting to fill your every waking moment. You fantasized constantly about ripping off his armor and his cape, licking every inch of the expanse of skin underneath, seeing his face and making genuine eye contact. You touched yourself so often in your bunk before sleep that you had forgotten to be quiet a few times. But his stoic posturing and lack of any indication to you that he saw you, or that he recognized that you were a woman at all only drove your infatuation. It was hell.

“Man probably doesn’t have a single atom of sexuality in his body.” You muttered to yourself as you looked in the mirror and applied cream to your desert-dry skin. “I could probably lay naked across his lap and he wouldn’t even notice. Fucking sexy goddamn idiot, walking around like he’s swinging the galaxy’s biggest dick. Fuck me.”

You propped one foot up on the edge of the sink and started to apply cream to your leg. “Fucking sexy moron. Probably doesn’t even notice I have boobs. Might as well be a fucking frog lady for all he notices.”

You began to wonder if talking to yourself was a sign of some kind of hyperdrive-induced madness. Not that it mattered. Your only conversation partner was so closed off, so short with his answers that you might as well talk to yourself. You shrugged and switched to your other leg.

“Maybe I should jump him, make him notice me for once. Ha, like that would do anything. He’d probably freeze me in carbonite so that he doesn’t have to hear me talking so much.” You put your foot down and slathered cream on your arms and shoulders, following your weird train of thought.

“... or maybe he’s into that. Real weird shit, like freezing women in carbonite and jerking off on them?” You held that mental image in your brain for a half-second too long and then shuddered.

“Ew. Gross. Or maybe he’s just into normal kinky shit and hasn’t been around a woman in so long he’s forgotten how it works.”

You grabbed your toothbrush and started to clean your teeth. You spit out a mouthful of foam and then pointed the toothbrush at your reflection while you continued.

“Maybe you’re it, sweetheart.” You winked and smiled at yourself. “Maybe you’re just the woman he needs to remind him what love is. Ha! Love…”

You smirked at yourself and continued brushing. You spit out the final mouthful of foam and leaned close to the mirror, looking at your eyeballs and gums up close, inspecting yourself for signs of ill health. You lowered your voice in a parody of a sexy accent.

“Or maybe you’re just the woman he needs to remind him how luxurious a warm pussy and a pair of boobs feel in the dark when you’re out in the cold reaches of space.”

You nodded once at your reflection, as if a vital consensus with mirror-you had been reached. You stepped into your sleeping pants and slippers and pulled your shirt on over your head. You grabbed your toiletries bag and stepped out the door, taking a left toward your bunk.

You ran into a wall of Beskar. Oh fuck.

Mando was standing with his shoulder propped against the wall between the ‘fresher and your bunk. The ladder to the cockpit was about six steps behind you, which meant that he hadn’t just come down the ladder, because you would have seen him in the mirror while you were talking to yourself, which meant… Oh FUCK.

“H-how long have you been standing there?” Your voice was high and squeaky.

Mando didn’t respond, just tilted his helmet an inch to the side, like he was studying you. You felt your stomach flip over and something warm and wet rushed to your crotch. You hoped you hadn’t just peed yourself a little from fear.

You were about to open your big mouth and make some excuses about dust madness or sleep deprivation when you heard him sigh… or you thought you did anyway. It was hard to discern that soft of a sound through his modulator while your heart was pounding in your ears.

“Long enough,” was all he said, and then he walked past you and climbed the ladder to the cockpit.

You stood, rooted to the spot for ages, until you shook your head clear and went to your bunk. Maybe that hadn’t happened at all. Maybe you imagined it. Maybe you should get some sleep.

You tossed and turned for ages, trying to pinpoint the exact moment where Mando could have crossed the hall without you seeing him in the mirror, and trying to recall exactly what you had said and when. Either he had crossed the hall outside the ‘fresher door in the half second when you had pulled your shirt over your head, or he had been there since you got out of the shower and opened the door. If he had been there since you opened the door, that meant that he had heard everything, every crazy thought that you had voiced. But if he had somehow only crossed the hall while you were pulling on your shirt, then why would he have said ‘Long enough’?

Your panicked calculations ran over and over in your head, doing nothing to calm your distress. The more you thought about Mando, the more you wanted him. Okay, so what if he overheard everything? Did that change anything? No. Apparently he had decided to just… not react to it. He had swept past you and made for the ladder, and in that moment where he shared your space you had caught a whiff of his scent, that mix of cold metal and scruffy wool, the musk of something salty and warm that lay just underneath, which must be just him.

As you thought about that moment in the hall, your fingers moved almost automatically to the waistband of your sleeping pants, and you savored the coolness of your fingers when they met the warm mound of flesh just under your navel. You stroked yourself there, moving lower with each graze of your fingertips until you felt the first whisper of the coarse curls that dusted your pubic mound. You brushed your fingers along, moving lower and lower until they reached the valley between your outer lips, the crevice that you opened with a single sweep of your finger, where warmth and wetness lay buried.

You propped your legs open and found your clit, the little bud that made you gasp when you touched it and made you want to cry Mando’s name loud enough to echo through the whole ship. You clapped a hand over your mouth to muffle your moans while you rubbed harsh circles around your clit, dipping your fingers occasionally into the pool of slick that was growing by the minute. You dragged the wetness back up to your nub of nerves and kept going, harder, faster, almost punishing yourself for daring to even think about Mando that way.

He clearly didn’t want you, and the idea that you might end up torturing yourself like this for months or years longer produced an ache, a soul-deep longing to just stay close to him no matter what the circumstances, so that you could keep getting the little glimpses of him that fed your obsession. Once he had reached for a lever in the cockpit and you had caught a flash of skin at his wrist, a centimeter of flesh that fueled your bedtime fantasies for weeks.

And then just now in the hall, that rush of air in his wake as he passed you, the smells of him that combined to make him: his scent, his aura, his presence. That salt-metal-musk of him, and a hint of soap, the buttery-woodsy scent that perfumed the steamy bathroom after he had showered. You had gone in once right after he left the ‘fresher before the vents had cleared it, and the smell of his soap, so masculine and clean, had made your cunt clench. After that you seemed to find excuses almost every time to use the ‘fresher immediately after he had showered and vacated it.

You felt like a creep but you liked smelling his soap, liked the way the steam warmed your face and made it prickle as you sat and inhaled a part of him that was there but couldn’t be seen. It was almost a religious experience like that, ephemeral and intangible, with the undercurrent of shame and fear of being caught. What kind of weirdo sits and smells someone else’s shower steam and gets turned on?

The memory of all the times you had touched yourself like this before, in your bunk and in your shower and in the steamy bathroom inhaling the clouds of Mando’s soap-scent all crashed down on you at once, and a cry ripped from your throat.

You bit it off halfway and it ended with an “-mmmh!” You hadn’t heard any sounds from beyond your door, so you weren’t worried that Mando had heard you. He was probably still up in the cockpit, fiddling endlessly with knobs and buttons, trying to extract the best fuel efficiency possible. You rubbed yourself more gently until your climax shuddered to a stop, and then it was over.

You wrapped yourself up in your blankets and slept like a rock.

The next morning you woke up tense and nervous about seeing Mando. Despite being sure that he had decided to ignore what he had heard, you were still anxious about facing him. You got dressed and stuck your head out your door, not seeing him out in the hallway. Your shoulders relaxed a bit. You decided to try to just go up to the cockpit like normal. If he was going to ignore it, you could do the same… or at least you could try.

You closed your door behind you just in time for his heavy footsteps to descend the ladder from the cockpit. Fuck.

“Morning,” you mumbled. He hit the ground and turned to you, not moving a muscle. Oh stars, here we go, you thought to yourself.

He nodded his helmet at you once in greeting. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah, yes. Yes I did, thank you… You?” You made awkward, polite conversation back, even though you were half convinced he didn’t ever sleep at all. Just one more mystery of the Mandalorian you were probably never going to solve. But at least he didn’t seem like he was interested in talking about anything he may have overheard, or that he was offended enough to kick you off the ship, so that was a relief.

“Yes.” He held his visor trained on you from just a few feet away. You found yourself fixing your gaze on his neck, not bold enough to look him directly in the region of his eyes like you normally did.

You waited for him to say more. When he didn’t you found yourself nervously trying to fill the silence.

“Um, what’s on today’s schedule? We still traveling or did you want to stop anywhere? I mean, I’m fine with either option, I don’t need to stop. But if you wanted to-”

“No.”

You were almost grateful for the way he interrupted you.

“If you still want me to repair the-”

“No.”

You were starting to feel a little bit of panic. The topics of traveling and ship repairs were pretty much all you had to rely on without resorting to an awkward silence... or worse, broaching the subject of last night. You vowed not to ever talk about that if you could help it.

You nodded once and then fixed your gaze on the toes of your boots. You put your hands behind your hips and leaned back against the closed door of your bunk in a parody of a relaxed posture. You folded your lips in between your teeth and bit down, forcing yourself to look back up at his visor. If this silence lasted any longer, you were going to break and start chattering nonsense just to fill the void.

Mando took a step toward you and you involuntarily flinched. He paused, and you were filled with regret. Had you scared him off? Had you made things that terrible and awkward? Was he going to kick you off the ship?

You forced yourself to breathe evenly, in and out through your nose. In the quiet it sounded like you were taking big shuddering gasps of air. Fuck, I can’t even breathe like a normal person.

“Did you enjoy yourself last night?” Mando’s voice was low, and you weren’t sure you had heard him correctly.

You stuttered, “Wh- What? What do you mean?”

“Did you,” he took another step closer, “...enjoy yourself last night?”

Oh fuck, so he was going to talk about your embarrassing bathroom monologue after all. Fuck fuck fuck.

“No, I-” You forced yourself to at least maintain eye contact with his visor as you stumbled over your words. “I don’t enjoy that kind of thing. I mean, I don’t do it for fun, I was just, ummm... bored and I- It’s not fun for me or anything. I mean, I don’t- I don’t always- Look, I know it was rude and I’m sorry.”

“So,” he moved closer, nearly towering over you where you leaned against the wall, “...you didn’t enjoy that... last night?”

You gulped and stuttered more nonsense. “No, I- I mean, I was just trying to fill some time and I thought I was going a little, you know, nuts after that last mission. I’m sorry if you overheard me. I mean- I just- I-”

“Because it sounded to me like you were enjoying yourself.”

“Ummm… no- no, sir,” Oh fuck, did I just call him sir? What the fuck is wrong with me?

You tried again, “I’m sorry if you overheard me. I was- It was rude, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I said.”

Mando propped one arm against the wall near your head, boxing you in. You wouldn’t be able to untangle your own arms from behind you without pushing your body against his.

He inclined his visor lower and purred, “What you said?”

“Yes, in the ‘fresher, I’m sorry you overheard me with the door open, talking to myself about you. I’m- I won’t do it again.”

He tilted his visor just an inch lower, and you got the distinct impression he was enjoying this, enjoying watching you squirm.

“I wasn’t talking about the ‘fresher.”

Your heart stopped for what felt like a full second, and then picked back up at double speed.

“What?” Your voice was a mere squeak, barely a whistle of air forming one word.

“I wasn't talking about the ‘fresher.” Mando’s voice was low, as dangerous as you had ever heard him.

Your eyes were glued to the curved black of his visor, and you couldn’t form coherent thoughts or any words besides stuttering out another weak, “W- what?”

Mando brought his free hand up to your face. His fingers were curled just under your chin, the pad of one huge thumb pressed flat under your lower lip.

“I was talking about you touching yourself in your bunk where you think I can’t hear every moan that you make. Where you think I can’t hear you fucking your own fingers practically every night, for months.” He was holding your chin in place with his gloved fingers. Under any other circumstances you would have been drooling with lust from both your mouth and your pussy. But this was torture.

You let a small sigh out, and it felt like all of your last bit of life force went with it. For the first time in your life, you felt like you were going to faint. You managed to shudder a great heaving breath in and stay upright. You had survived worse, you could manage to get through this little embarrassment, and then you could make your break from the ship, leave the Mandalorian, and go to whichever corner of the galaxy he wasn’t going to be in. You tried to remind yourself that nobody ever died from a little embarrassment.

“I- I…” You tried to form some kind of rational thought, and then you seized on a little spark of anger. You jerked your chin sideways to get it loose from his fingers, and then you scowled up at his visor. You tried to get very angry at the idea of him listening in, when that was actually all you had wanted for months.

“That was private, Mando. Are you saying that I should be embarrassed about a biological function of the human body? Masturbation is normal.”

He practically whispered, and you had to strain to hear him over your own pounding heart.

“I didn’t say it wasn’t normal, sweetheart. I asked if you had enjoyed yourself, because it sounded to me like you did. Contrary to popular belief, I have noticed that you’re a woman, and I do have at least one atom of sexuality in my body. I’ve touched myself at night, too, thinking about you.”

Oh stars, if embarrassment couldn’t kill you, the sudden jump in arousal might. You felt your stomach flip and your pussy clenched hard around nothing. The fresh clean underwear you had put on this morning was drenched.

You couldn’t speak, but Mando seemed to be fine continuing his train of thought. “And if you wanted any help in that department, I know a certain ‘sexy moron’ who might be able to assist.”

“Oh fuck.” Your voice was back to a squeak.

“That’s not an answer.” He tilted his visor just a degree to the right. “Do you want my help with that?”

You closed your eyes and nodded vigorously, nearly headbutting his helmet. “Yeah, yes. Yes please. Yes.”

“Good.” Mando stood back from the wall and put his hands on his hips. Now that he wasn’t crowding you, you felt like you could breathe again.

He held one gloved hand out to you. “We have at least a few hours with the ship on autopilot. Your bunk or mine?”

“Yours.” You pushed yourself off the wall and nearly fell. Your legs had gone numb. Mando caught you around your waist and looked down at you.

“Ground rules first. One, you can’t see my face. We have to leave all of the lights off.”

You nodded up at him. “Yeah, okay. I’m okay with that.”

“Good. Two, you have to stop creeping into the ‘fresher after every shower I take. That’s weird, cyar'ika.”

Your eyes fluttered closed and you laughed. “Yeah, okay. Sorry.”

“Three, you can call me Din. It’s my name. But you only use it when we’re alone, got it? Everywhere else we go, I’m still ‘Mando’ to you.”

You looked back up at his visor with your best, most honest face. “Yeah, I can do that… Din. That’s nice.”

Mando released you and held your hand as you walked the three steps over to his bunk’s door. He opened it and motioned for you to get inside. You kicked off your boots and crawled up on the bed. Mando closed the door and started to remove his armor and his layers of underclothes. You took the hint and started to undress yourself.

You lay naked on the bed, taking in the sight of him as he disrobed in the dim light. It was odd that he could get entirely naked and let you see his cock, his broad shoulders, thick and solid muscles from fighting, scars and all… but not his face.

As if he could read your thoughts, he turned to you and said, “I can’t let you see my face unless we’re married, unless you’re my riduur, my wife.”

You blinked at that, the thought of being lucky enough to become his wife was dizzying, potent and attractive.

You had a sudden thought and sat up, dangling your legs off the side of the bed. “Are we- are we ruining that? If we do this can I still be- I mean, we’re not supposed to wait until after marriage, right?”

“We?”

“I’ve been on your ship for months, Mand- I mean, Din.” You shook your head to clear it.

“I’ve been lusting after you since the first time you said my name. I’ve been half distracted by thoughts of you every day since I got here…” You trailed off, unsure of how to say what you were trying to say without just coming right out and saying it.

Din moved closer and sat on the edge of the bed next to you. “Are you saying you want to do more than just fuck?”

“Well… yeah. I mean, if I just wanted a fuck I could’ve gone to any brothel right near the landing pads, at any of the places we’ve stopped.” You looked down at your lap, somehow more embarrassed by the admission that you hadn’t had sex in months than you had been by all of the conversation up to now.

Mando slipped one of his broad hands into yours, intertwining his fingers. The warmth and the new, strange sight of his calloused hand holding yours so gently gave you the courage to finish voicing your thoughts.

“But I… I didn’t want that. I don’t want just a fuck…” You looked back up at his visor and took a steadying breath in. “I want you, Din. I love you.”

Din let a long breath out, “Cyar'ika, I- I’m happy to hear you say that, but I don’t want you to get into anything with me that you might regret.”

Your voice was quiet. “Does that mean you don’t love me?”

He turned you to face him, broad hands holding your shoulders. “No, that’s not what it means. I- I’ve felt the same way about you since you got here. But I had to hide it because this is a hard life that I’ve chosen.”

“I know that, Din-”

He cut you off. “No. This is it. We may not be able to settle down or stay in one place. I can’t guarantee that there will be any luxury or softness in your life. It means that I love you so much that I want you to be absolutely sure of what you’re choosing, if you choose me.”

You blinked up at him. Did he really not see?

“Din, I’ve fought alongside you for months. I thought that I had proved myself capable, but if you think I’m weak or I can’t handle it-”

“Mesh’la, I know you can handle it, I know you can fight and that you’re strong. But it has to be your choice.” He took both of your hands in his. “You can’t choose this on a whim. You have to choose with your eyes open.”

He brought his hand back up to grip your chin again, thumb planted firmly to tilt your face up to his. You saw yourself reflected in his visor, and you realized instantly that your face looked just as determined as you felt inside. You brought both hands up to wrap them around his shoulders, stroking the skin on the back of his neck. He dropped his hand from your face and wrapped both arms around your waist.

“My eyes are open, Din, and I choose you. If you need more time, if you don’t want to decide right now, I’ll wait for you. I’ll stay and fight alongside you and prove my love to you a thousand times if that’s what it takes. But I choose you, and everything that goes along with that choice.”

Din bent his head to yours and touched the front of his helmet to your forehead. The gesture was strangely somehow more intimate than the fact that you were sitting naked next to one another on his bunk. You sighed and closed your eyes, reveling in the feeling of him under your fingertips, the contrast of the cool metal against your forehead, the warmth of his soft skin where it pressed against yours.

“I want you to have my warriors, mesh’la. Do you want that? Do you want me to father your children?”

Your arousal surged back suddenly. YES, your entire body screamed at you. You inclined your head back and leaned your face up to kiss the top of his visor.

“I’d love nothing better, Din. If you want me, I’m yours. I’ll bear twenty warriors if you want me to.”

“Mesh’la, I-” He stopped. “Not here. I can’t marry you here. You deserve to do it on some beautiful green planet, to wear flowers in your hair and say your vows with me in the sunlight.”

“Okay, Din. Whatever you say. I don’t care where we make our vows.” You stroked your hands down his broad shoulders and gripped his biceps. “I’ll do it here, I’ll do it on the farthest-flung planet if you say so. I’ll do whatever you say, whatever it takes to call myself your wife.”

He leaned his helmet to your head again, and whispered, “Cyar'ika, my beautiful girl. My girl… close your eyes.”

You sat back on the bed and closed your eyes. Din got up and you heard the soft hiss of his helmet coming off, then a thud as he laid it carefully on the floor. Then there was a soft click as he turned the lights off before he joined you on the bed. He gently pushed you onto your back, and you felt him recline next to you, your bodies and legs pressed together as he lay on his side facing you.

His voice was strange without the modulator, somehow the same velvety tone, but entirely different altogether. “You can open your eyes, cyar'ika.”

You did, and found that the entire bunk was dark, no seam or seep of light from the hallway around the door. You turned your face to Din and whispered his name, “Kiss me.”

He did, and you melted into it. You realized suddenly that although you had spent so many months fantasizing about what he looked like under his helmet, you actually didn’t care now. You just wanted to feel him and be with him. To be his.

You felt his erection grow hot and hard against your leg, and you whimpered as his tongue probed your mouth. His lips were soft, his kisses languid and deliberate. You were split in two by the desire to take your time like this, and the equally strong throbbing in your clit that urged you to hurry along to the fucking.

You decided to let him go as slow as he wanted. There would be plenty of time for that later, and you suddenly realized just how quickly things had moved to this point. This was your first time kissing the man who would be your husband. The thought of it nearly bowled you over. Last night in front of the mirror you had called him some very bad things while also somehow complimenting him, and then you had touched yourself in desperation like you had almost every night for the last nine months. And now, here you were in his bunk, naked together and engaged to be married. There was no need to rush things.

Din kissed you like he was trying to memorize you, and you gave him the best of yourself in return. You whispered and murmured sweet words to him in between kisses, licked into his mouth with the same vigor that he licked into yours, and stroked his cheek with your fingers.

“Din, I love you so much. I want to be yours forever.” You kissed him deeply and pulled his hand down to rest on your belly. “Please give me children. Please let me carry a part of you inside me. I want you to fill me up with your seed, let it grow inside my womb.”

“Mesh’la,” he nearly whined at that.

He kissed you again more aggressively as he rolled himself on top, bracing himself on his hands above you. You gripped his forearms just below his elbows and got wetter at the feel of the hard muscles under his hot skin. He was strong, you had seen that in action many times, but the corded muscles just under the skin were proof of his presence, the man under the armor.

The realization that you would be the only woman for the rest of his life to feel him this way made you moan.

“Din, take me. Please? Take me now.”

He whispered to you in the dark, “I will, mesh’la. I’m going to fuck you and fill you up. Fill you with my semen. You’re going to have my baby.”

You opened your legs wide, feeling the heat ebb from your throbbing cunt. Din shifted against you and you felt his cock press against your seam. He rolled his hips away from you, and in the next moment he was halfway inside, kissing you hard as he moaned into your mouth.

You wrapped your legs around his hips and pulled him into yourself, feeling ravenous and greedy, wanting every inch of him inside of you as soon as you could. You reached up to caress his neck and cup the back of his head. You were surprised to find that his hair was soft, and that it curled down to the nape of his neck. You hadn’t given a thought to his hair, other than to note that his pubic hair and body hair was dark when he undressed. You just hadn’t spared a thought to what the hair under his helmet would look like, or if he even had any at all.

You were instantly curious about the color of Din’s eyes, and whether your children would look more like him, or like you. You smiled into his kisses in the dark, savoring that sweet wonderment as your husband-to-be fucked into you, rolling his hips against yours in the dark and joining the two of you forever.

Din started huffing out words that landed somewhere between devotion and depravity, filled with more emotion than you had heard from him in all of the preceding months.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, mesh’la. I’m gonna fill you up and fuck a warrior into you, fill you with my cum and watch you grow round. You’re going to glow with my baby growing inside of you.”

You moaned and spasmed around his cock, chills of electricity running up and down your spine as he growled out more of his filthy praise.

“You’re going to look so beautiful, cyar'ika, so fucking gorgeous after I fill your hot cunt with my seed. You’re going to take it all and let it fill you- fucking fill you up until you’re bursting… my good girl.”

You felt your climax growing, and you pulled your knees up high so that he could thrust even deeper.

“More, Din-” you huffed out the words as best you could. “Tell me more. Fuck me more.”

He began thrusting harder, stuttering out his words with each plunge of his meaty cock into your wet, hot center.

“You’re- fucking- beautiful. Fucking gorgeous.” He kissed you hurriedly, eager to spill more dirty talk into you. “We’re going to take- take our vows tomorrow- take our time after that- fuck you until you’re dripping with my cum. Fuck a warrior into that ripe womb of yours.”

“Oh fuck, Din. I’m gonna come. Keep going.”

“Touch yourself for me, cyar’ika. Touch that beautiful cunt and make her swallow me whole.”

You cried out at that and then reached down to find your clit, to coax yourself over the edge as Din continued to utter his honeyed filth into your soul.

“You’re going to carry- carry my warriors, mesh’la. Grow round with my baby inside you- spill honey from your breasts for my child.” He groaned and you could tell he was close.

“I’m going to fill your hot cunt with my seed, m- make you froth with my cum, cyar’ika. Everyone will know who you belong to.”

He thrust even harder, ramming his cock into a spot deep inside of you that made your eyes water.

“I’ll protect you both, cyar’ika. Shelter and care for you while you grow our baby inside of you. Fill up this fucking hot cunt- this perfect fucking pussy- over and over again. Protect you for the rest of my life.”

“Fuck, Din, I’m coming!” You felt your whole body thrill with the force of your orgasm, your pelvic muscles squeezing him hard as you threw your head back and moaned.

Din groaned and thrust four, five, six more times until he plunged deep and held still, collapsing down on top of you to bury his face in your neck. You felt him spasm as he lay pressed against you, his hot, sticky cum spilling deep inside. You wrapped your legs back around his hips and held him in, murmuring sweet words into his ear as you stroked his hair.

“My love, I’m going to have all of your babies. I want you inside of me always, Din.” You pressed kisses to his ear as you whispered. “I love you so much. I’ll follow you to the farthest star and back, my love, always.”

Din panted as he came down. You felt him soften inside of you, but he didn’t withdraw. He pulled his head up and kissed you softly.

“Mesh’la, I can’t wait to marry you. My wife… my love.”

---

Din Djarin/Mando character masterlist

Main Masterlist

“Everything bagel” tag list: @quica-quica-quica @anaaaispunk @justanotherblonde23 @gracie7209 @nicolethered @honestly-shite @driedgreentomatoes @dihra-vesa @1800-fight-me @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @kesskirata @honeymandos @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @anxiousandboujee @cevvie @sherala007 @writeforfandoms @libellule2001 @deadhumourist @mandoalorian @javierpinme @eri16 @mandocrasis @pilothusband @bastillealmighty @eri16 @jitterbugs927 @babiiface95 @toomanystoriessolittletime @yespolkadotkitty @fisforfulcrum @prettylilhalforc @mswarriorbabe80 @littlemisspascal @wildemaven @coreychick @castleamc

WIP. (remus lupin x reader)

remus lupin x reader

In which the marauders and their girls are on summer holiday in South of France and Remus realises he wants you.

Warnings: fluff (maybe smut, we’ll see); not proofread!!

Remus had no idea when he agreed to go to the Potter’s summer house in south of France that the summer holidays would go like this. He thought it would be just the four of them boys in a little house. But he did underestimate the Potters wealth a bit.

The taxi stopped in front of the iron gates of a three-story house. The path to the front door was lined by pine trees. Remus could hear some repetitive melody coming from the trees. He attributed that to some kind of grasshopper. The scorching sun, although filtered by the branches, was making the boy’s head ache and sweat. And the noise from what he had gathered to be a cigale was worsening it. Still, he was pleased to discover the house with its walls made of put-together stone, its shutters needing fresh paint, and the small fountain beside the floral arrangement that would go all around the building. James had pushed its faucet to bathe his head in cold water, but Remus was focused on something else now. He had seen someone in the window. Someone he didn’t know would be here.

The door opened in a hurry, and all he could think was, when did he miss that information?

“We were starting to worry, what took you so long?”

“James had forgotten his pacifier, that’s what took us so long. You know how he is when he doesn’t have it.” Sirius climbed the stairs, his sunglasses in his hair and his bag on the shoulder. “Insufferable!” He muttered loud enough for the four girls to hear.

Remus combed his fingers through his hair and took a long breath before opening his mouth

“Well! Hello-”

“What are you doing here? I thought it was just us four!” Peter asked joining Sirius and the others inside.

You stayed in the corner of the door looking at the two boys left.

“Had a nice trip?”

Remus nodded. You looked ethereal in your blue and white sundress, your hair braided together.

“And you? You didn’t wait too long? Lils is not mad right?”

“Don’t start, Prongs.” Remus lifted his luggage. “I like the dress”

“You’ll get burned if you don’t put sunscreen on, Potter.”

“It’s alright, Evans. He’s a big guy.”

“I have some sunscreen if you'd like.”

James shook his head no, not glancing at them, his arm covering his eyes to cover himself. He had decided he was done with Lily Evans. Too much running around, not enough results, he said. And, too busy becoming a better guy, he was not seeing how Lily’s attention toward him had changed. That’s what everyone understood, though.

Remus’s gaze turned from his three friends to the girl getting in the water. You chuckled a bit listening to Lily’s attempt at catching James attention.

“Not too cold?”

You immersed yourself fully in the pool and let yourself float around.

“It’s parfait!”

Remus smiled at your French pronunciation. You and Sirius had been going around throwing random French words in conversation since the first day of the holidays.

“Is it? Should I join you?” You shook your head.

“Don’t ruin it. It feels good like this.” You hummed plunging your head underneath the surface.

Remus looked at how your body moved expertly under the water. The way your hair floated above your shoulders and how sunshine seemed to rain on your back as you swam. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. Away from your legs moving so delicately under the water like a dance he did not know of.

He watched you like this the whole time you were enjoying the nice and cool pool in the back garden of the house. He was sitting on a lounging chair in the shadow of a pine tree. He had kept his shirt on despite the warm weather, too embarrassed to show his scarred body. Remus’s face was already reddened by the sun, and some freckles had started to appear on his nose and cheeks. You had found them quite adorable on him. It betrayed his soft personality that you loved so much.

You had been in love with Remus for two years now. Stealing glances at him when you could, but keeping your feelings for yourself. You were worried you might ruin your bond and your friend group dynamic. As if getting serious with Remus would stop you from enjoying time with the others. Particularly if Remus were to reject you. You couldn’t even think of how your friendship would go after that without being embarrassed to death. Still, from time to time, when you were brave enough, you would attempt to flirt with Remus. Just to see if you had a chance, or if he really was too good for you. You were wondering at that moment, fully aware of the attention on your body, if you could say something to him. Your face was red just at the thought of it.

“My eyes are higher, Rem.” You managed to say without stuttering too much. You had swum to him and were now looking up at him through your lashes.

Remus was speechless. You looked so innocent, so beautiful at that moment. He wanted to take a picture of you, just to keep you in his wallet, and maybe, just maybe, sometimes say to strangers, “That’s my girlfriend, isn’t she beautiful?” He dreamed of that, of saying you were his.

Dividers credit to @benkeibear

Tag list : @innerloverpainter

Hey would u be up for writing an Anthony Bridgerton fic where Daphne's bff is distracting Anthony so that daphne could enjoy the balls without him interrupting,and they kinda fall in love?????

Sorry that was a hugeeee request. I've never done that before😅😅

Distractions

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x f!reader

Word count: 3.3k

A/N: This is a fic that I have been referring to as ‘Anthony without his trauma, but he’s still a dumb ass’ and ‘Anthony doesn’t oppose marrying for love, but he’s still wildly emotionally constipated’  so please enjoy! This ended up way longer than I intended and it still doesn’t feel fleshed out *shrug emoji*

Vauxhall Gardens

“Please,” Daphne begs. “I need your help.” 

“It’s Anthony. I need someone to keep his attention away from me,” Daphne continues. “Otherwise I’ll never dance at one of these balls with someone who isn’t related to me.”

You can’t help but sigh. 

Daphne’s brother loves her, and is understandably overprotective of her. As the “Diamond of the Season”, she’s the debutante that every eligible gentleman (and a few non-eligible men) have set their sights on. Someone needs to protect her. But Anthony Bridgerton would not be your first choice for that task either. He may love his sister very much, but he’s also an arrogant man and a rake. He thinks the worst of all men because he is the worst type of man. And if they were you would understand his behavior. He seems to have assumed that each and every male member of the Ton is exactly like him. The type of man that you try to avoid at these types of things.

“Fine. But you’ll owe me for this,” You grumble as you nod. Acquiescing to your friend's pleas.

Daphne’s your best friend. You’d been close since you were children, you were only about a year older than her, with mother’s who were close friends. She’d been your playmate and then your confidante as you both grew older. With your debut having taken place a few years ago, you’d been eagerly awaiting Daph’s debut, and the chance to partake in these events with a friend by your side.

But her older brother had put a damper on the entire season with his insane micromanagement of Daphne’s social calendar. 

Turning away fortune hunters, you understood, but not letting her dance with a single gentleman at Lady Danbury’s ball? And then scaring off every suitor who came to call on her? It had taken Lady Bridgerton stepping in to convince Anthony that she could call on you in the afternoons without being accosted by men on the walk to your family’s home. 

The man was on a power-trip, and was certain to destroy Daphne’s impressive chances at a great match this season if he kept it up.

“Bring me over, and then I’ll talk to him while you slip away,” You tell her as you spy the viscount’s gaze already searching the crowds for his sister.

She grins as she pulls you in and hugs you tightly, a silent thank you before she grabs your gloved hand in hers and pulls you in the direction of her brother.

“Anthony, you remember (Y/N),” Daphne says as she stops in front of her brother, prompting you to bow your head and give Anthony a small smile.

“Miss (Y/L/N),” Anthony Bridgerton greets you politely with a small bow.

“How have you been, Lord Bridgerton? I don’t believe we’ve spoken in several years, since before you graduated from Oxford,” You say politely.

“I’m well, It has certainly been a while, last time we spoke you had not come out yet,” He replies.

“Yes,” You reply with a quizzical look.

You sigh when you realize that you’ll have to keep up this conversation and come up with something to ask him if you’re to distract him.

“Have you read anything interesting recently?” You finally ask. Settling on a topic that is both non-threatening and that you’ll find at least half engaging.

“I’m afraid I haven’t read anything that isn’t a report from our estates in the past few years,” Anthony admits.

You have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. “I suppose I should have known, a man of import such as yourself has far better things to busy himself with,” You tell him, unable to stop the corners of your lips from turning upward. “Like staring down every man who so much as looks at his sister.”

“I- that’s-” Anthony protested before huffing when he realized that the conversation would not be productive. “What have you read recently?” He asks instead.

“Pride and Prejudice and The Heroine were both quite good,” You tell him. Normally you would have continued to push but with the topic of books, you can’t help but give Anthony your honest answers. “I’ve read the recent Byron and Shelley, though I find them insufferable,” You add, your nose wrinkling with distaste.

“I also revisited Shakespeare, I heard the Theater Royal is putting on Romeo and Juliet in May, and I’d quite like to see it.”

“You’ve turned into quite the scholar in recent years, haven’t you?” Anthony asks, a bemused smile across his face.

“I’ve always been invested in my education, Lord Bridgerton,” You reply. “You’re just finally intelligent enough to notice.”

Anthony merely stares at you while you smirk, taking great joy in teasing him. 

“Where did Daphne disappear to?” He asks once he’s recovered from your thinly veiled barb.

“Probably just to the powder room,” You reply banally, the lie easily forming. “I think she was going to try and find your mother afterward.” 

When Anthony’s gaze zeroed on a subject over your shoulder and he seemed to have completely tuned you out you knew that he had spotted Daphne. You turned your own head, searching for Daphne in the crowd only to see her making her way to the dance floor on the arm of the Duke of Hastings. 

“Oh!” You gasp.

That little minx. 

Now you knew why she’d been so adamant to get her brother off her tail. She was interested in his best friend. 

“Did you know about this?” Anthony asks harshly, though his gaze never tears away from the couple making their way to the dance floor.

“Of course not!” You protested. “I-I had no idea!”

“I thought they didn’t like each other,” You offer lamely.

The Trowbridge Ball

“Do you know where Daphne is?” Anthony asks as he appears suddenly at your side.

“Would you care to dance?” You reply.

You know it’s a faux pas. But you don’t really care. Besides, no one can hear you, and you need to distract him with something that will keep him occupied for several minutes.

He looks at you for a moment. Like he’s trying to discern what exactly you’re up to. But in the end, he nods.

“Of course,” He replies as he offers you his arm.

You place your hand in the crook of his elbow and allow him to shepherd you to the dance floor.

“Do you know where she is?” Anthony tries to ask again once the dance begins.

“I’m not your sister’s keeper,” You reply. “And nor, it seems,” You add as Anthony spins you around. “Are you.”

Anthony doesn’t reply and you can tell by his face that he’s still struggling to let Daphne take care of herself. Especially with the Duke’s interest in her.

“I’m sure she is fine,” You finally tell him once you’re facing him again. “Your sister is far more discerning than you give her credit for.”

“I never said she wasn’t-” Anthony begins to protest. “You are baiting me again,” He says as he looks down at the knowing look on your face.

“You’re learning,” You reply with a grin. “I know that you are only caring for her, that you’re overprotective because you love her, but she must marry this season, and you do her no favors if every man with any sense is scared of you.”

“You do not want to let your sister marry a fool, do you, Lord Bridgerton?” You ask him, your tone becoming more serious.

“Of course not,” He replies quickly.

“Then learn to step away,” You tell him.

Hyde Park

You should have expected Anthony to join his family at the park. And with the Dowager Viscountess and Lady Danbury chaperoning Daphne and the Duke, both you and Anthony were left to your own devices. So when he asked you to promenade, seemingly of his own volition you were taken aback.

“Have you ever been out of the country?”  You finally ask after a few minutes of the two of you  walking silently alongside one another. 

“No, I never had the chance,” He tells you. “Have you?” He asks.

“I once went to visit my cousins in Scotland, and the Scottish certainly believe themselves to be another country,” You tell him.

Anthony hums in agreement with your statement.

“How many children do you want?” He asks.

Your eyes widened.

“My Lord?” You ask, clearly taken aback by the question. But he merely looks at you. “I suppose however many I am blessed with, though more than three or four would be a challenge to manage,” You tell him.

“Why haven’t you married yet?” He asks.

“Well,” You say, trying to figure out how to answer such an abrupt question.

“This is your third season,” Anthony says as if you hadn’t known. “You are truly accomplished, and far more eloquent than most of the ladies and the gentlemen in my acquaintance. I would think you would have already made a fine wife.” 

“I think I ought to be offended by what you’re saying my lord,” You tell him with a small smile.

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to-” Anthony quickly begins to apologize.

“I ought to be,” You clarified. “But I am not. I suppose I just haven’t given much thought to marriage.”

“Most women are solely focused on the institution,” Anthony points out.

“Most women have no other choice. My family is secure, my parents are in no rush, my brother has a good enough head on his shoulders,” You tell him. “I have a great privilege in that. So I suppose I ought not to waste it by marrying for anything less than happiness.”

“I see.”

“Yes,” You tell him. “Any other questions about marriage I can answer for you? I’d assumed at nine-and-twenty you’d grasp the mechanics of the marriage bed, but I could offer you an explanation-”

Anthony’s eyes widened as his gaze snapped to you, appalled. It was only when he saw the smirk on your face that he realized you were only poking fun at him.

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” He replies.

The Penwood Ball 

Distracting Anthony Bridgerton had been much easier than you’d expected. And surprisingly less annoying. You often found yourself surprised by the fact that you were looking forward to spending time with him.

Anthony greeted you seemingly the moment you walked through the door.

“Lord Bridgerton,” You replied with a smirk as he offered you his arm.

Taking it you could have sworn you saw Daphne laughing in the corner with Simon, and so you quickly pivoted on your feet, pulling Anthony in the opposite direction. 

“I’ve been thinking about what you said last week,” You told him. Once you had put a safe amount of distance between yourselves and Daphne.

“Why I am not married,” You clarify. “I realized that perhaps the truer answer is that no one has ever asked.”

“That surely cannot be true,” Anthony replies.

“But it is,” You tell him. “Most eligible gentlemen see me as a bluestocking, or as merely a platonic acquaintance. No one has ever seen me as more than that.”

“That is not true,” Anthony replies quickly.

“I think I would know better than you do, Lord Bridgerton,” You tell him with a roll of your eyes. “In case you’ve forgotten, we have not spoken in years until last month.”

“Besides, you only prove my point. You are certainly not looking for a wife,” You say.

“What makes you say that?” He asks, turning sharply to look at you.

“Everything about you, starting with the fact that you are wasting your time with me,” You explain. “And ending with the fact that you are the definition of a rake.”

“You can’t tell me that you don’t only spend time with me to get your mama and the other eligible young ladies off your back,” You tell him plainly.

“That is most certainly not the only reason,” Anthony replies. And for half of a second, he almost looks offended by your comment. “I can’t help myself if I find your charm beguiling,” He adds with a smirk.

“My charm? Is that what ruthlessly berating you is called now?” You ask with feigned confusion.

“Your jabs are far from ruthless, my lady,” Anthony replies.

“Then I shall need to sharpen my sword,” You tell him, raising your eyebrows.

Anthony begins to open your mouth and you can see the mirthfulness in his eyes.

“Do not make a double entendre out of that,” You say quickly as the very thought enters your mind at seemingly the same second it does Anthony’s.

“You are delightful company, my lady,” He says with a chuckle.

“And you are a ridiculous man,” You reply, though you can’t help but laugh with him.

The Greenwich Ball

It had been a difficult morning. You’d hardly slept the night before, and your mother, bless her heart, had insisted on you joining her for every single one of her social calls. You probably should have been glad that your mother was not foisting suitors on you left and right, but having to listen to every other mama in town discuss her own daughter’s prospects while you had to sit quietly at your mother’s side was hardly much better. 

It had been exhausting, and now Anthony seemed dead set on making the evening as difficult as possible. He’d wanted to dance and now seemed to think that taking a turn about every room of the party was a worthwhile use of your time.

You weren’t sure what he was doing, or who he was looking for, but when you saw Daphne and the Duke standing in a corner, with the Duke whispering in her ear in a way that was nearly scandalous you quickly remembered your one responsibility and tugged on Anthony’s arm, attempting to lead him back in the other direction.

“What are you doing?” Anthony asks you as you continue to move around him, pushing him into the next room, towards the refreshments table. 

You huff, already annoyed. “I’m supposed to be distracting you!”

To be fair, you and Daphne hadn’t spoken of her little scheme in a few weeks, but you had just assumed you were supposed to continue on with it, as she hadn’t said anything about ending it either.

Your eyes widen when you realize what you just said. Out loud. To him.

“What?” Anthony asks, deeply confused.

You consider lying to him, but your exhausted brain can’t seem to come up with a single plausible excuse. 

“Daphne told me to distract you so that she could spend time with suitors without you scaring them all off,” You admit.

“What?”

“I was supposed to distract you,” You repeat. “And clearly you appreciated the break from your mother’s match-making, otherwise you wouldn’t have put up with me for so long.”

“You thought I was using you?” Anthony asks slowly. His tone is imperceivable. 

“Weren’t you?” You ask slowly. Suddenly far less confident in your assessment of your relationship with the Viscount.

“Of course not!” He replies quickly. “I-” Anthony starts to say before he stops himself.

“But you were spending time with me because Daphne made you?” He asks instead.

You swallow. This was not how you expected this conversation to go at all. 

“Well… yes, but…”

“But what?” Anthony presses

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think you would be upset,” You tell him.

“Yes, clearly you did not,” Anthony replies, his words clipped as he searches your face. “I need to have a conversation with my sister. Good night,” He states abruptly before walking away from you.

“Wait, Anthony, please, I’m sorry!”

You’d never felt so awful, so guilty before. Or so confused.

“You have a caller,” Your butler announces as you and your mother sit at the breakfast table the next morning. 

You’d hardly slept, but your mother refused to let you sleep in, your shared breakfasts were a tradition that she would not let you get out of easily, and as an early riser, she didn’t understand why others struggled to wake as early as she did.

“A caller? At this hour?” Your mother asks. Clearly surprised.

“A Lord Bridgerton, asking for Miss (Y/L/N),” He replied.

Your entire body froze as you tried to imagine why Anthony could possibly be calling on you. And at nine in the morning. 

“He’s in the drawing-room,” Your butler adds.

“Yes, I’ll go right in, thank you,” You reply as you stand from the table. You merely give your mother a slight shrug of the shoulders as she looks at you curiously. 

When you entered the drawing-room you found Anthony standing in the middle of the floor, seemingly pacing the room.

“Anthony, what are you doing here?” You asked as you made your way towards him. 

He stops completely when he hears your voice, turning so that his entire body is facing you.

“I needed to see you,” He tells you.

“Why?”

“I love you,” He says.

Your heart stops when you hear those three words. Of all of the things you’d imagined Anthony coming to say to you, this was never on the list, not even in your wildest dreams.

“What?” You ask, thinking you might have misheard.

“I love you.”

“I don’t- What is happening?” You flounder as you laugh in disbelief.

“You said last night that I wouldn't have put up with you unless I was using you to get away from my mother and her matchmaking,” He explains. “But you’re wrong. I spent time with you because I liked it, and when I wasn’t with you I was thinking about when I would see you next. It was never about my mother, or my sister, or anyone else for me. It was about you, and how I want to spend my life with you.”

“You do not have to return these feelings, or say anything at all, but I just wanted you to know,” He says. “To me, you’re my person.”

“Oh my,” You finally say after a moment as you look up at Anthony’s tentatively hopeful expression. 

“I think I’m in love with you too,” You tell him, a smile spreading across your face.

“Is your father home?” He asks, taking your hands into his own and squeezing them tightly.

“It’s nine in the morning, of course he’s home,” You tell him.

“I will speak to him at once,” He replies.

“Anthony,” You begin to protest.

“No,” He says quickly. “We are going to get married. And I don’t want to have to wait any longer.”

“Anthony,” You try again, pulling on his hand so that he focuses back on you and on the present moment. “You haven’t even proposed yet.”

“Oh,” He says before dropping down onto one knee.

“(Y/N) will you make me the happiest man alive and agree to marry me?” He asks.

You can’t help but laugh at his ridiculous antics before nodding.

“Yes, yes, of course,” You tell him.

Anthony grins as he looks up at you before he’s pushing himself back onto his feet and taking your face into his hands. 

Anthony couldn’t help it, he kissed you.

hufflepuff~istp~libra~foodie~badger patronus~request for @generalblizzarddreamer

thanks for your patience :)