Finnick holds a lot of trauma, repressed shame, anxiety, fear and worry around sex. Due to him being forced into prostitution by Snow after he won the games, sex became quite traumatic for him. He was trafficked and every day, the effects still haunt him.
He trusts you so he opens up to you about this, about these issues and my god, your heart breaks into one thousand little pieces.
He's open about it and has learned to talk about it and he tells you awful, horrid stories about his experiences. You cry with him, reaching out with kind hands to wipe his tears away and kiss him on the forehead.
"We don't have to, Finn... Not until you're ready and if you're never ready then that's okay. I want you to be comfortable and if you never want to have sex, that's okay but please just let me know. Tell me how you're feeling and what you're comfortable with."
He can't tell you how much he appreciates you saying that. The love, awe and admiration he has for you in that moment is overpowering.
He likes to kiss you and for a while, that's as far as he'll take things. He wants to go further, god, he wants you so bad but he's just not ready. You understand and you don't push.
When he is finally ready, my god... it's the best night of your life.
He's tentative at first, slow hands relearning skills he hadn't used in a long time but muscle memory exists and soon, he's confident and smirking.
He kisses you everywhere, head between your thighs with a skilled tongue. He grips your thighs as you lose control under his touch.
When he raises his head, he's smirking big and wide.
He could spend hours between your thighs. He gets off on getting you off; he loves knowing how good he makes you feel, loves knowing that it's him that makes you feel this way.
He's a perfect mix of rough and gentle.
He doesn't overstep, if you're not comfortable with rougher sex, he'll keep it passionate but if you are comfortable with rough sex then get ready to wear his hand like a necklace.
He'll push your head into the pillows as he fucks you from behind, moans getting trapped in the sheets of the bed as he leaves red handprints on your ass.
He likes he tease you so denies you of orgasms until you're a screaming, sensitive, quivering mess.
He likes tying your hands up, using them to hold onto as he fucks you from behind, likes leaving you defenceless so that he can ravage you.
He'll leave love bites everywhere, he's possessive; he likes when other people know that you're his.
Breeding kink one hundred percent. He likes filling you with his cum, likes pushing it back inside you with his fingers and his tongue if it dribbles out of you.
He likes risky sex in public places; likes the excitement of the risk of someone seeing.
He gets jealous sometimes which results in hard, fast, possessive sex anywhere; against a wall, over a table, in a bathroom... anywhere.
Summary: Neither of you really care if anyone sees.
Warning: exhibitism, voyeurism, p n v, riding, they fuck in the arena while itâs being televised, spit kink, size kink, creampie, switch ! Finnick, switch! Reader
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âYou know you could walk a little slower, sweetness. â
Finnickâs voice blares out teasingly into the morning air as he trails behind you. Your hair sticks to your forehead in sweaty strands, your body on high alert as you make sure to scope out any remaining candidates that arenât on your side. Which isnât much, considering you have Katniss and the others, but itâs still a good idea to be cautious. To your relief you had found Finnick in the woods last night. And as much of a victor as you are, the dark makes you nervous. So he had allowed you to sleep beside him, curled up with his arms wrapped around you. It wasnât intentional, of course, but when he sleeps it seems that he tends to get handsy. And when the warmth of his body was beside you, you couldnât resist letting him throw you into his embrace.
âMaybe you could walk a little faster, pretty boy.â
He chuckles at the nickname, his pace finally catching up with you so you can see the cocky smile on his face.
âYou think Iâm pretty?â
Your friendship is like this, a lot. Flirtation, playful banter, and a few hook ups every now and then since the two of you met at a capital event one year. And now, even when youâre supposed to be enemies, youâre working together. Itâs just a connection, an order that makes you both flow freely with each other and get the things you desire.
You ignore the way Finnickâs hands ignite flames on your skin and the way his smile makes your heart flourish. You also ignore the way you feel the constant need to protect him and keep him alive. In this game, you canât have anything serious.
âMm..â you reply. âSometimes.â
Your hands wrap around his neck as you pull him to you. He smiles, that pretty crooked smile, and presses a kiss to your temple.
And then, you hear a snap.
You and Finnick are both on high alert then, and turning around youâre both faced with a victor. Not an ally, it seems, as sheâs pointing a knife at the both of you.
It doesnât take long before sheâs dead, but itâs still a bother to you. You donât like murdering these people, and youâve never liked the whole idea or subject of the hunger games. The first time you had won, but at what cost when theyâve sent you right back in?
Itâs kill or be killed. And as the womanâs blood splatters on your face, you sense that familiar feeling of rage from the first time you killed creeping back into your psyche. That rage that loathes the capital, loathes those stupid fucking districts as they fall into the ground. And your knife doesnât stop the assault on her as you make sure sheâs dead. Itâs better, this way, to overdo it so they donât have to suffer. Finnick is surprised at your strength and skill, he always has been, but he finds it best not to bring it to attention.
As you two walk away, the woods begins to clear. And then you both watch as you see the Arena come into view, dark and blood soaked.
âGreat,â you mutter. âMore to show the people.â
Itâs obvious that everything is being recorded, but this is the most clear spot. As you sit down on one of the rock formations, your lean back to watch the clouds and the orange sunset. Finnick sits beside you, his neck and chest splattered with blood. And after a moment, you begin to speak.
âI donât like doing this.â You state. âItâs all bullshit. Itâs psychotic.â
Finnick nods in agreement, his jaw clenched as he watches the stains on your shirt.
âWe should give them a show.â He says. âDo something that we know they canât get away from.â
And thatâs when you get the idea.
You look at him, a mere glance. Youâre both probably sweaty and disgusting, but even now Finnick looks absolutely god like. You know heâs chiseled, under that gray suit. And you know what big thing lies underneath the crotch of his underwear.
You smile, your hand coming to rest gently on his muscled thigh. His eyebrows furrow in confusion, as he watches your palm begin to move up more.
âWhat are you doing?â He asks. He doesnât seem completely against the idea, though. Because then that cocky smirk you know so good and well is plastered onto his face, his hands finding there way to the exposed skin of your shoulder. He leans over and kisses your collarbone, gently. You huff, your lips moving to graze the spot below his ear.
âIf they want them a show, letâs give them a show.â
Seeming to be on the same page, Finnick crashes his lips into yours in a bruising kiss.
Meanwhile, at the capital, the monitors in the room begin to awkwardly watch as you push Finnick down onto the rocky arm. His back hits the floor with a grunt, and then heâs watching as you sit up and unzip the back of your suit. He groans when your tits are revealed to them, full and sitting in all their glory. He brings his hands up and gropes one in his hand, feels the soft skin and your pert nipples being brought to attention. You tut when he tries to move his fingers down to your pussy.
âNo, Finn.â You coo. Your nails scratch his addamâs apple, and he flushes as you begin to climb on top of him. âNo touching there until I say.â
He groans when you press down against his growing bulge.
âYou know if we donât hurry we could die, right?â He huffs.
âI donât want to hear excuses, baby. We both know fucking me again is the last thing you want to do before you go.â
He canât deny that, and as you demand that he lift himself up and unzip his suit down to his thighs, he follows your directions with desperation. You watch as you pull his briefs down below his balls, watch as his girthy length springs to full attention. He moans when your hand connects to his skin, and begins to jerk him off with vigor. You can feel a tension in the air, the feeling of being watched extremely prominent. And it shouldnât get you so wet, but it does. So you bring yourself to eye level with Finnickâs cock, and spit down on him, quick to shove his tip into the warm confines of your mouth. He makes a deep sound in his throat, and you move away teasingly when his hips try and move his cock farther into your throat.
âCâmon, sugar.â He says, overwhelmed. âDonât be mean.â
âWhy donât you just shut up and do what I say, Odair?â You demand. You slap his cock, and he groans, legs beginning to tremble at the pain and pleasure mixing. âBesides, Iâm not letting you use my mouth right now. I just needed to get you wet.â
He whines in protest when you pull away from him. But then youâre pushing your suit down, past your calfs and onto the ground.
So help you, if youâre going to die itâs going to be like this.
When your pussy is revealed to him, Finnickâs cock jumps and he sits up to guide you to his lap. Heâs warm, his cock drooling and messy. You donât hesitate to rub his tip against your clit, your thighs holding his lean body down.
âPlease, y/n, fuck!â Finnick stutters, the feeling of your wet silky cunt making him go crazy.
You smile as you finally guide him to your entrance, and sink down. His cock fills you up to impossible levels, his balls pressed flush against you when he finally bottoms out. His hands go to your waist, and when you bounce on him, his eyes roll back and he cries out like a bitch in heat.
âJesus Christ.. you feel so fuckinâ good, angel. Love your pussy so much.â
âI know, sweet boy.â You moan when he grazes a soft spot inside you. âIt f-feels good, doesnât it? My little pussy feel good around that big cock?â
âGod, yes. Cmon, ride me harder, momma. I know you can.â
And when you begin to fuck him faster, he brings his hands down to your ass, and begins bucking up into you with a feral pace. Your arousal makes him keen, makes his brain turn to mush the moment your scent hits him. You look so beautiful, so flushed and perfect, and something snaps inside of Finnick, then. His fingers spread your cheeks apart, and his voice is raw.
âBet you like this, huh? The whole capital watching you get fuckinâ destroyed by my big cock? Hm?â
You gasp at his words, your fingers clawing at his chest.
âFinn, baby, fuck!â
âYou love it, donât you?â
No reply. Finnick slaps your ass harshly, and you yelp at the sting. His hands grab your throat in a harsh grip.
âAnswer me!â He demands. You cry out, trying to nod the best you can, and then uttering out a âYes! Yes sir!â As his large hands cut off your air supply.
âThatâs my fuckin girl.â He replies. His fingers rub your clit, leaving your throat as you gasp for air and your orgasm washes over you. Your pussy gushes all over him, soaking his cock and balls and the rock below the both of you, and without warning Finnick is grabbing your hips with his large hands and turning you over so youâre beneath him. Itâs quick, and youâre incredibly surprised. You wrap your legs around him as he begins to pummel you, now with more leverage and strength, and his cock feels like itâs destroying you from the inside out. You donât complain, though. And when Finnickâs hips begin stuttering, you know heâs about to cum.
âCâmon, baby, cum inside me, cum in my pussy!â
Your words spur him on, makes him leave bruising marks on your wrists as he holds them above your head and begins to cum in thick, messy ropes. Your walls practically milk him of everything heâs got, and when heâs done you can feel the stickiness of his seed dripping off his cock and onto your thighs.
He buries his face in your neck, then. And with a small laugh, he pulls himself out and begins to lick his cum out of you. Your middle finger comes up into the air as he does it. A sign, as the victor from district 4 eats your pussy. A big âfuck youâ to the capital.
The cameramen and people at home watch in shock and awe. Thereâs a debate of whether or not they should turn it off, and after a while everyone becomes too distracted by the images on screen to worry about it. The next day, none of the other tributes look at you both the same.
Because at that time, they had been watching, too.
When the interview with Caesar was over, you collapsed into Finnickâs arms, sobbing. You didnât care who saw, it didnât matter who saw. As much as you needed Finnick in one area of your relationship, you needed him even more emotionally.
âYou did good, darling, so good,â he whispered into your hair, fixing himself to sit down on the floor as your fluffy dress pooled around your sitting form. âLook at me, darling, you did so good.â
You inhale, looking up at him as he grinned down at you. His thumb rubs your chin, a shaky exhale falling from his lips. âI love you, Y/N. Every part of you, forever and always.â
You exhaled, nodding. âI love you, Finnick. Every part of you, until the end of time.â
You hear footsteps as you lay against Finnickâs chest, his fingers drawing patterns against your bare upper back. You probably looked insane as you looked up, tears staining your perfect makeup, but when you saw Peeta and Katniss, you smiled. Your arms wrapped around Finnickâs shoulders as he pulled you closer, inhaling as Katniss paused.
âSmile, Katniss,â you say, exhaling. âIt helps them believe you.â
You saw her fists relax as you nodded at her. She nods back, a slight smile developing on her lips before you giggled. âWider, honey. If I canât stop these games, maybe you can, Mockingjay.â
Her brow ruffled as Cinna ran over. âY/N, darling, your makeup! Come on, we need to fix it.â
Finnick sighed. âCinna-â
âOf course, Cinna,â you smiled as you stood, stepping off of Finnick. âWill you come with me?â
He nods as you grab onto the edge of his shirt, his other quickly taking both of your shaking hands into his own. You smiled at Peeta and Katniss, mouthing âsmileâ at them as Cinna took you down to the salon to fix your makeup. âI like the blue, Cinna, put more of it please.â
He smiled, nodding as he does as you say. Finnickâs lips stay pressed to your skin, anywhere from your shoulder to the back of your hand. He watched the interviews of Peeta and Katniss, gasping when Peeta pulled the same trick he did. âGuess everyone has baby fever, donât they?â
You hum. âI hope so. Maybe the more babies we make, the more theyâll want to shut down the games.â
âI wish that was how it worked, Y/N,â Cinna whispers, smiling sadly. âWhat names were you thinking?â
You purse your lips, pausing. âFinnick, of course,â you say, making him laugh as Finnick squeezed your hand before sighing. âIâve always loved the name Nautilus. Or Atlantis.â
Finnick smiled. âI like those.â
You laughed before Cinna turned you back into the mirror. âYou like?â
You smiled, nodding when you saw how beautiful the makeup looked. âI love Cinna.â
He grins. âPerfect. Now go, youâre going to be late!â
You quickly get out of the chair as Finnick grabs your hand, quickly leading you down to the stage so you both can raise your hands together. You grab the personâs hand next to you, grinning as you raise your arms before Caesar announces, âAnd we will see them at the wedding of Panemâs Prince and Princess, Finnick and Y/N!â
Your mind was hazy as you went back to the room, leaning on Finnick for support with his hand in yours as you both stood in the elevator. It was quiet on the way up, his hand softly stroking your hair as you squeezed the other. âFin?â
âYes, darling?â
âCan you go get me a pregnancy test?â
He pauses as the doors open, walking in with you. âWhy?â
âYou made me think,â you whispered, sitting on the couch. âI just want to take one.â
Finnick scoffed. âWhy if you think weâre going to die?â
You pause, looking at his form; his arms crossed in a way that made his biceps bulge, jaw clenched and eyes glaring down at the floor. âFin, come on,â you say, sitting next to him to pull him down to the couch. âIt was for effect, Finnick.â
âNo, no it wasnât,â he says, looking over at you, gaze softening. âYou donât think I will protect you? I promise you, I swear to you, I will get you out of that arena alive.â
You smiled, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his lips. âI know you will, Fin,â you whisper, sighing. You let your fingers curl into his golden hair, softly brushing your nose to his. âI will do the same for you, and you know it.â
âYou donât have to protect me,â he says immediately. âItâs been my job to protect you since you were born. Iâve always, always protected you. Remember when we were little and that fucking asshole kept untying your nets and I fucking pummeled his ass? And then-â
âI couldnât protect you when you were Reaped, Fin,â you say, remembering when his name was drawn and you fought against Peacekeepers to get to him. You ran onto the stage, ignoring the scolding of your mother and jumped into his arms, sobbing until you were dragged away from him.
âFinnick! Finnick, donât go!â You wailed. He had just turned fourteen, you still eleven and unable to understand the point of the Reapings and what you were feeling.
âY/N, go, please,â he whispers into your ear, his hands still at his sides. âGo before someone kills you.â
âNo! No, I'm not leaving you! Finnick, please, please donât go. Donât leave me, you promised,â you sobbed into his shoulder, arms around his torso. âYou promised.â
His hands twitch as they slowly wrap around your waist, pulling you closer. âIâll come back. I promise you.â
And he did. He did come back, but two years later, you went too when you were fifteen. And then, you came back.
Even then, nothing was the same as when you came back. After being sold by Snow, you and Finnickâs relationship was broken. You both blamed the suffering and traumas of the other on yourselves, and because of that, you stayed apart for about a month. It was even more torture than the literal torture of Snow, and when you both saw each other again, you never let the other go since then.
âLet me protect you now.â
He inhaled shakily as you pulled him closer, pressing a kiss to his lips. âWeâll protect each other, Y/N,â he says, kissing you again. âI swear on it.â
You smiled as he paused. âIâll get you that test.â
You nodded, thankful as he opens the door, and when you donât hear it close, you look over the couch. When you see Katniss standing there, Finnickâs arms crossed as he raised a brow. âCan I help you?â
âI want to speak with Y/N,â she says before Cinna comes into view.
âFinnick, darling, the rings are done.â
You jump over the couch, still in your long flowy dress. âCinna! Let me see!â
âAh!â Finnick says immediately, pushing you away. âNo, you canât see until tomorrow.â
You pouted, whining. âFin, come on!â
He laughs, pushing you back slightly. âGo. Katniss, come in, Cinna, walk with me.â
You pout as he walks over, kissing your lips. âGet changed, darling. Iâm sure itâs hard for you to walk around in that.â
You giggled, brushing your lips against his again. âI love you.â
He stroked your head. âI love you more.â
Finnick walks out, leaving the door open for Katniss to walk in. You hummed as she slowly closed the door. âWhereâs Peeta?â
âSpeaking with Effie and Haymitch.â
âOh? So youâre here alone?â You giggled as you walked toward your room, looking back. âCan you untie my dress for me?â
Your words make her inhale, but she steps forward to let her nimble fingers tug at the satin string that tied up your dress. Easily, she gets it undone, and you let it fall from your form and step out of the dress and corset. She gasped as you walked toward the closet, basically completely nude besides your lacy panties that did little to nothing to cover you up. You pull on one of Finnickâs oversized shirts, opting to not wear bottoms as you come out and sit on your bed.
âWell? What can I do for you, Katniss?â
âWhat is up with you and Finnick?â
You raised a brow. âWhat do you mean?â
âYouâre the Prince and Princess!â She yelled, covering her mouth soon after. âYou both just⊠you, especially, youâre like⊠like-â
âUndeniably attractive?â You say, outstretching your leg with a giggle before leaning back on your hands. âSexy? The epitome of lust?â
Her face falls. âIâm leaving.â
You laughed. âIâm playing! Whatâs your question again, Kat? Kitty Kat? Can I call you that or-â
âWhy are you so self absorbed? Princess like?â
You giggle. âI was in the publicâs eye since Finnickâs games. I was his girlfriend, Katniss, and when I was reaped two years later, we suffered the same fate over again,â your smile disappears. âFinnick and Iâs lives are not everything you see on TV, Katniss. Even if you didnât watch our show.â
She grimaced. âYou didnât answer my question.â
âYouâre lucky you survived with Peeta, Katniss. Lucky that Snow wants you dead.â
She glared. âHow is that lucky?â
You donât look away from her, slowly hiking up your shirt. âBecause itâs better than him wanting you alive,â you said, showing her a mark on your upper thigh that Cinna always covered with makeup. âDo you know what this is, Katniss?â
She pauses, but shakes her head.
âThis is the mark of the people sold by Snow,â you say, pressing on it. It disappears for a few seconds, but comes back. âOnly some know what it is. Itâs impossible to take off, I have scars to prove it,â you say, pressing on it again to see the faded scar before it comes back. âYour games werenât even a year ago. If Snow loved you like he did me and Finnick instead of wanting you dead,â you stand, walking in front of her to force her back against the wall. âThen you wouldâve gone through the same things as us and come out just as twisted. Maybe worse.â
She inhaled, choosing to stay quiet as your fingers slowly stroked her hair. âYouâre beautiful, Katniss,â you say. âAnd Iâm glad you didnât suffer like us. We do what we have to to survive, Katniss, and if being a whore in both the light of a camera reluctantly and behind closed doors willingly, then so be it.â
You hear the door open, stepping back. âIâm sorry- I am.â
âI donât need your apologies, Everdeen,â you say, sitting back on the bed as Finnick walks in. âI need you to do two things for me,â you raise a finger. âOne, I need you to be my maid of honor. The girls who get pregnant together, stay together. Itâs good for popularity.â You raise your second finger. âTwo, I need you to end these fucking games. For all of our sakes.â
Finnick pops a candy into his mouth, tapping your chin making you look up at him. He holds your chin, pressing a kiss to your lips before letting the candy slide into your mouth. You smiled, cherry flavor popping into your senses before you pulled away. âMy favorite.â
He smiles. âGood thing I have more then,â he says. âCan I have another kiss?â
You giggle, nodding as you pull him on top of you.
âIâm leaving,â Katniss says immediately, turning around before you hum against Finnickâs lips.
âOh! Wait!â You say as Finnick quickly got off, moving the bag he got before collapsing onto the bed. You go to your dresser, pulling out the box that Cinna had given you after the interview with a gift for the person you chose to be your maid of honor. As much as you wanted it to be Mags, you didnât want to bring her out to the Capitol to watch you go back into an arena you only wanted to escape.
You took it out, ignoring the two boxes that held your matching gold bracelets before closing the drawer. Turning, you hand her the box. âFor you and Peeta. Matching. I want you to be my maid of honor and Peeta to be Finnickâs best man. It works out that way.â
She slowly takes it, gasping when she opens it. She slowly takes out the necklace, cascading pearls wrapped in gold rope chains to cover her entire chest like a throwing net. She grabs the other, a thick rope chain with pearls studding each intertwined link for Peeta. âThis looks-â
âExpensive? It is. Do you know how hard it is to get pure gold these days? Everyone wants those new carbon things but no, I want the classics,â you smiled as you went to the bed, quickly crawling over Finnickâs legs to sit on his lap. You push the candy around your mouth, covering it in your spit before leaning down, watching his mouth lull open obediently and let the cherry flavored candy fall into his mouth. You giggled, lulling out your tongue to lick at his own before looking over at Katniss. âGet to the estate at around nine in the morning. Finnick and I will be there earlier, but you know itâs bad luck when a groom sees his bride. Cinnaâs assistants will begin dressing you when you get there.â
Katniss nods. âOkay, I will uhm⊠weâll be there, all of us.â
You smile. âSounds good. Make sure Haymitch and Effie wear black! If I see one speck of color, sheâs leaving.â
Katniss laughs slightly. âOkay. See you tomorrow, Y/N.â
You look up, smiling at her. âSee you tomorrow, Katniss.â
With that, she leaves as a loud crack makes you look down at Finnick who chews on the candy. He grinned, his tongue stained pink as you kissed his lips. You groaned as he pulled your hips into his own, rutting them softly into yours before his hands squeezed your sides. âYou gonna take that test?â
You almost forgot about it, but you nodded. âYeah. Yeah, I am.â
âDo you want me to go with you?â He whispers, hands stroking your side as you inhale shakily.
âYes.â
He lifts you up, taking you to the restroom, slowly setting you down onto the ground. You go to the toilet, sighing as you slowly pull down your pants and opening up the test. Quickly, you do your business, clean yourself off and wash your hands before tapping on Finnickâs shoulder.
You whimper into his back, rubbing his arms. âFin, Iâm scared.â
He turns around, stroking your cheeks. âItâs okay to be scared, darling. Just remember Iâm here and Iâm here to help you, to protect you, to save you.â
You sobbed into his hands, gasping as the timer Finnick must have set and quickly grabbing the test. You inhaled shakily, the words Negative not registering in your mind.
âY/N, honey?â
âI really wanted it to be true, Fin,â you whisper, your eyes burning almost as though there were no more tears left to cry. âI really wanted to be pregnant with your baby.â
A choked sob fell from Finnickâs mouth, his arms immediately pulling you into his chest as you both crumbled to the ground. You sobbed into his chest, his hands pulling you into his lap as you rubbed his shoulders and he rubbed your back. âWeâre going to get out of there alive, my darling. I promise.â
This time, you believed him. Looking up, you pressed a kiss to his lips. âI love you, Finnick Odair.â
When Magsâ name was drawn, you stepped forward immediately, your voice announcing, âI volunteer as tribute.â
The cheers get louder as they hold up yours and Finnick's hands, but when they let go, he pulls you into his chest, kissing you passionately. You can hear the cheers grow louder, and your eyes water as you pull him lower. You sniffle as he pulls away, stroking his cheek as you look over at Mags and nod. âI love you,â you whisper, but youâre both taken by hand into the back room. She pressed her hand to her lips and blew you both a kiss as you wave. Finnicks hand stays in the small of your back as you see Cinna, hugging him tightly as he sighed.
âItâs good to see you again, Y/N,â he whispers, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. âIâm sorry it has to be under these circumstances.â
You giggle, shrugging. âJust make me look good when Iâm about to go out, Cinna darling.â
He winks. âThatâs what I do best, sweetheart.â
Finnick sighs as he kisses your temple, all of you slowly going to the shuttle where Cinna leads you to the table, softly patting your shoulder. âI have a gift for you both.â
You raise a brow as Finnick pulls you into his lap - he was always more protective around Cinna, even since the beginning of your games where Finnick was your Mentor and Cinna designed your outfits.
Cinna slowly takes out two boxes, opening them to reveal matching gold bracelets. âA gift from Effie Trinket.â
Your nose scrunches as you look over at Finnick who looks up at Cinna. âEffie Trinket, the mentor for District 12?â
He nods. âYes, the tributes are-â
You giggle. âPeeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen. The fakest couple in all of Panem,â you look back at Finnick, smiling. âThey wish they could be us, darling.â
Cinna just laughs as he slowly takes them out of the boxes and puts them on each of your wrists, smiling. âNow Y/N, you know theyâre only doing what they can to survive.â
You let out a laugh, shaking your head. âWell then she should be a better actress. Itâs sad because he seems so in love with her. I hope he finds someone to love him like he does her.â
Finnick laughs with you, kissing your neck. âWhy are we getting gifts from their mentor, hm Cinna? What does she want?â
âFor you to make an alliance,â he explains as he slowly sits down. âIs there anything specific we want styled this time around? Iâm thinking for the parade we go with something⊠netty.â
You purse your lips, thinking before looking at Cinna dead in the eye. âI want to get married before the games.â
His jaw drops as Finnick smiles against your skin, your eyes catching the blurring scenery outside of the train. âMarried? I get to design the Prince and Princessâ of Panems wedding outfits?!â
You giggle, nodding. âIf you would do us the favor, Cinna.â
He inhaled, dramatically waving at his face. âThis is going to be amazing. Amazing, I say.â
âI want white,â Finnick says, Cinna nodding as he grabs a sketchpad from⊠somewhere, Finnick staring down at you with a smile. âItâs going to be the best day in the world when I marry the love of my life.â
His words make you giggle as you press a soft kiss to his lips, Cinna sighing. âI wish it was under better circumstances,â he says, smiling at you both before gasping. âRings! I need to design rings!â
You giggle as he runs off, looking back at Finnick before pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. âI⊠I donât want to meet them.â
He paused, raising a brow. âThe District 12 tributes?â
You nodded, but then shook your head. âAny of them. Johanna especially. They all survived their games and were promised that they would never have to suffer through it again, and now,â you inhale shakily as he kisses your temple, shushing you softly. âNow weâre all going back. My nightmares have barely gone away, Finnick, I canât-â
He shook his head. âNo, no darling, calm down. Iâll be there, I promise. I wonât let anything happen to you.â
You inhaled, nodding into his neck before the blaring voice announced your quick arrival to the Capitol. He stood, carrying you in his arms as you both walked out, immediately being taken to the area where you would be prepared for the games, being cleaned, shaven, everything.
This couldâve been the one thing you missed, gentle hands caring for your body and cleansing you of whatever- it almost made you feel relaxed and calm.
But when you stood in front of the dark horses of the District 12 horses, you felt anything but.
You stroked their face, cooing softly at them as you watched them eat a sugar cube from your palm. You paused when you heard soft footsteps, smiling before looking up at Katniss who stood next to their side.
âKatniss Everdeen, as I live and breathe,â you say, giggling as the horse nudged into your shoulder. She was dressed extremely differently from you, your outfit going along with Finnickâs with a netted bralette covering your chest and a bikini-like bottom covered with a golden threaded net acting as a see-through skirt. You felt exposed, but you had definitely been more exposed to the Capitolâs eyes before. âItâs nice to finally meet you.â
She smiled, even though it was obviously fake. She was not a good actor, you could tell that. âY/N, Panemâs Princess. I never thought Iâd meet you.â
You giggle in response, taking another sugar cube from your other hand and giving it to the other horse. âOh? Youâve wanted to meet me, hm?â
Her face flashed between annoyed and the mask she wore, smiling wider at you. âOh, always. My mother adored your reality show.â
You hum as you look over your shoulder, another pair of steps heading your way before you see Finnick. âYou should work on your acting skills, Everdeen,â you say, turning back and smiling at her. âAnd your lying skills. They may have fooled Panem, but they will never fool me.â
Finnick comes behind you just as Peeta goes behind her, Cinna already walking toward you both. âIâm sorry you both had to cancel your wedding,â you say, Finnickâs arm immediately going around your waist as he pressed a firm kiss to your jaw. âBut I do thank you for it. It gave us, people who are truly in love, space to get married. I hope to see you both there.â
âNow, Y/N, play nice,â Finnick mumbles against your skin, hand wrapping around your throat and squeezing slightly as his teeth graze your cheeks. âWe want alliances, darling, not enemies.â
You just giggle, leaning into Finnickâs grip, even though you could feel Katniss glaring a hole into you. You finally look at her, her jaw clenching. âHow do people pay for the pleasure of your company?â
You couldnât stop giggling around Katniss, not when she acted so serious. You put out your hand, watching as she tensed under your touch. âFinnick takes secrets as his form of payment,â you say as he finally lets go of you, leaning close to her ear. âI take bodies. And not in the way youâre thinking.â You squeeze her arm, smiling at her before turning to Peeta. âI hope to speak to you later, Peeta. You definitely seem more fun to talk to.â
You take Finnickâs hand as he leads you away, Cinna quickly coming to fix your outfits before you mount onto your carriage. âSnow wants a show,â he whispers to you both, sighing. âI have a little surprise for our Princess,â he hands you a remote, pointing at the button. âYou click this here and everything will happen, alright?â
You nod, smiling as the music begins to play. âThank you, Cinna.â
He winks at you before jumping off, Finnick quickly taking your hand as the first carriage runs out. You tap his cheek, smiling as he compliantly looks down at you, pulling him down for a firm kiss. He smiled, his hand slipping to your hip before your carriage started to move. You pull away, tongue pushing into his mouth before your carriage emerges and you pull away. You turn back just enough to stare at Peeta and Katniss, winking at them as Finnick grabs your hand.
You wait until youâre in front of Snow to press the button, loud chants of your own and Finnickâs name filling the arena until loud gasps form instead. You look down, the golden net on your body slowly extending, a flowing blue skirt blowing into the wind almost like a waterfall. It extends off the edge of the carriage, long as the cheering gets louder. Your names turned into chants until District 12 came out, but Caesarâs voice was still praising you until the parade ended.
You pout as his hand goes around your throat again, but lean your head back as he softly squeezed. âForgive me if I came across rude,â you say, smiling at Katniss. âI hope we can be allies in the games.â
Katniss scoffs. âWhat's the point when youâll try to kill us?â
You paused, giggling as Finnick kissed your temple. âNicely, darling.â
âIf I wanted to kill you, Katniss, youâd be dead already,â you look at Haymitch, smiling. âI would love to be allies with your tributes if you can get her under control,â turning to Peeta, you wink as Finnickâs lips kiss against your cheek. âI like the boy. He knows when to keep his mouth shut.â
âWhatever you say, princess,â Haymitch nods as you offer your hand, giggling as he takes it and pressed a firm kiss to the back. âI canât wait to see you in white at your wedding.â
âOh, you make me swoon, Haymitch,â you say, hand grazing his cheek as Finnick winks. âGuests are required to wear black. Finnick and I will be the only ones in white, even Snow is going to wear black,â you turn to Katniss. âThe Princess of Panem has many things under her control.â
âI can see that.â
You giggle as Finnick slowly lets go of your throat, your hand moving away from Haymitch to softly caress her face. She inhaled sharply as you do so, and you purse your lips. âYou really need to let loose, Katniss. No one likes a stick in the mud. Finnick, letâs go make love,â you giggle as her eyes widen. âOver and over again.â
Finnick smiles as you take his hand, softly kissing Peetaâs cheek. âSee you at the interviews, pretty boy.â
When youâre far enough away, Haymitch sighs. âWhat I would do to get a kiss from her.â
Katniss scoffs. âWhatâs her deal? Sheâs just, like-â
âA princess,â Peeta fills. âA princess of lust.â
âOh donât take that to heart,â Haymitch dismissed them both before turning to Katniss. âBut you, you better behave. Theyâre your most valuable allies, Katniss. If they she wants Finnick to fuck her in front of you, let them fuck. If she wants Peeta to fuck her, let him. Sheâs the Princess of Panem, for fucks sake!â His voice got louder, but he inhaled deeply to calm himself down. âHer sex epitome is an act in some cases. Her and Finnick have gone through things that you are lucky you didnât.â
Katniss scoffs. âLike what?â
Haymitch pauses, but glares at her. âYou will have to speak about it with them. Now, come on, you have some other people to meet.â
You and Finnick, on the other hand, did go to fuck. Your greatest source of shared trauma became your coping skill, and even with how toxic and horrible and down right bad it was, there was nothing you both enjoyed more.
You very well couldâve been obsessed with Finnick, and him with you, but neither of you cared how unhealthy it was- you needed each other like a person needed oxygen, and without the other, you would surely go insane.
You laid on top of Finnick, kissing at his neck as his hand drew patterns along your back. âDo you think I was-â
âTheyâll see the true you when the time comes,â he whispers, smiling at you. âAnd when they do, theyâll love you even more. I swear it.â
You smiled, leaning up to kiss his lips before someone knocked. You pull away, snuggling into his chest as he yells âcome inâ, Cinna walking in with a smile. âTheyâre ready and theyâre perfect. Interviews are in two hours, are you both ready to get dressed?â
You hum, throwing your hair back as Finnickâs hips buck uncontrollably. âOne more round, Cinna.â
He laughs. âOkay. Iâm coming back in ten minutes!â
You giggled, squealing as Finnick pushed you over, pulling your legs over his shoulders. âMake it fifteen!â
When the door closes, Finnick wastes no time thrusting deeper inside of you, your eyes rolling back as you claw against the sheets. âFuck, fuck Finnick!â
âYouâre a fucking whore, asking for another round,â he basically growled as your mouth lets out loud moans, his form leaning forward to ram his cock into you at a new angle. âYou knew I wouldnât say no, didnât you? You knew that I was going to fuck you, over and over and over.â
You nodded mindlessly, groaning into his mouth. âYes! Yes, Finnick, I want you to fuck me. I donât want you to stop fucking me, fuck, fuck!â
âYouâre a fucking, whore,â he grunts, fingers pushing down to press into your cunt with his fingers. Your eyes roll back as his fingers push into you, his thumb rubbing at your clit as his fingers curl inside of you, his cock still pounding into you like a jackhammer. You were so full of pleasure, the moans you previously held back now coming out in full force, cumming on accident with a scream as his thumb pressed on your puffy clit. âFuck, Y/N!â
You screamed out as he pulled out of you, pulling your ankles from his shoulders as he flipped you around, forcing your face into the pillows as he pushed into you again. âYouâre going to cum without my permission? Without telling me? No, not on my watch. Iâm going to fuck you until Cinna comes in and youâre not going to cum until that final second ticks.â
âYes! Yes Fin, fuck!â You wailed as he grabbed a fistful of your hair, moaning loudly as his cock pushed into you before being pulled out and fucked right back into you.
âYouâre such a good whore, darling. A perfect cum rag for me to fuck and fill, arenât you?â
âYes, yes Fin, Iâm just here to hold your cum.â You say, groaning as his hips move faster, body bouncing on the bed and your clit rubbing against the silk sheets. How were you going to be able to not cum when he was fucking you so good?
You donât even notice you were clenching until Finnick says something, his other hand pushing between your clit and the blanket. âYouâre clenching around my cock, darling. If you cum, Iâm going to fuck you on live TV. Gonna fill you up in front of Caesarâs stupid fucking face. Youâd like that though, wouldnât you?â
His hand forced you to nod, tugging at the roots of your hair as drool ran down the side of your mouth. âSpeak.â
âYes! Yes, Fin, Iâd love it, just as long as you fuck me! I promise Fin, Iâll be good!â
âBeing good is not cumming until those fifteen minutes are up,â he snarls into your ear, slapping your pussy with a firm hand as he forces you on your knees. âYouâre not going to listen to me, darling? Thatâs a bad girl, not a good girl.â
You shake your head, eager to please. âNo Fin, Iâll be a good girl, I swear! I want your cum, I want to be your perfect little cum slut, please!â
He paused, his hand moving slowly as he kissed your shoulder. âIâm sorry, darling, I canât do rough right now. Can you please just-â
âIâll do whatever you want, Fin,â you say, turning your head enough to kiss his cheek. âWhy donât I make you cum and we get dressed, sounds good?â
He shakes his head. âI donât need to finish, darling-â
âDo you want to finish?â
He paused, but nodded. His hips move slowly as you intertwine your hands together, kissing his neck softly as you groan into his skin. âFuck, Fin, you feel so good.â
âYou too, darling, holy shit.â
It doesnât take him long to cum, his seed painting your insides white as he collapses on top of you, kissing your spine. âI canât wait to marry you, Princess.â
You giggle, looking back. For a minute, you forgot you could die in the next week. âI canât wait to marry you, my prince.â
When you both stood at the interviews, you were nervous. Finnick went first, and you watched as he spoke with Caesar effortlessly like he didnât tell you he would fuck you on live TV earlier. The thought made you smile.
âSo, after interviewing some of the other potential tributes from District 4, we got about the same answer for what you and our princess did the night the Third Quarter Quell was announced,â he starts to laugh, leaning forward to pretend to whisper. âDid you and Y/N have some⊠fun?â
Finnick laughs. âYeah, Y/N and I did have some fun,â he looks over at you, winking. âBut then again, when do we not?â
As much as you hated these fake personas, you couldnât help but love it on Finnick. You loved the way he absolutely radiated confidence, especially when he spoke about you.
Caesar laughs. âMy, Finnick, how forward you are! You and Y/N have always been-â
âVery open about our relationship?â Finnick filled in, smiling. âYes, our relationship is not only our pride but-â
The crowd chants. âThe Pride of Panem!â
âOh, you are! You both are,â Caesar gets closer. âBut should we be careful about letting our children watch the games, Finnick?â
You wanted to scream. Children shouldnât even be watching the games anyways, but still, Finnick plays along. He grins, flexing his finger at Caesar to bring him closer, the mic as well. âWeâll have a safe word, Caesar. Iâll say it so that the children can leave.â
âOh, my my! Behave yourself, Finnick, thereâs children watching!â He continues to laugh before placing a hand on Finnickâs wrist. âNow, I was told you and Y/N have a bit of a⊠surprise for us.â
He smiled. âOh, yes, we do. Y/N and I, weâreâŠâ he looks over at you, exhaling. âWe have two surprises.â
Two? What were your two surprises? You knew one was your wedding, but the other?
âOh? Who doesnât love surprises?! Now, everyone wants to know, Finnick,â the camera zooms in, Caesarâs perfect teeth smiling almost scarily. âWhatâs your surprise?â
âY/N and I are getting married,â he says, cheers erupting from the crowd. âTomorrow evening. We invite all that are able to come to celebrate with us, our only request is that you wear black,â he smiles. âThe only people wearing white will be myself and my bride, as this is the happiest day of our lives.â
Caesar laughs. âOh, how exciting! I am so excited for you, Finnick, where are the rings?!â
Finnick shook his head. âThe rings are still being designed, you will see them tomorrow evening. My second surprise, though,â he looks back at you, smiling. âIs from Y/N.â
Your face scrunched. What was he doing?
âOh? And what does the Princess of Panem have to say?â He pushed the mic closer.
âSheâs with child,â Finnick starts to grin. âMy child.â
You gasped, covering your mouth as the crowd went silent. Finnickâs eyes snap to yours, the smile on his face calming all your nerves until the crowd starts to boo. Your heart rate spikes, your breathing getting faster until you hear the words they say. âStop the games! Our Princess and Prince need to see their baby!â
You exhaled shakily as Caesar laughed awkwardly. âWell, Finnick, I hope you have a great wedding tomorrow and I hope to see you there.â
âWell Iâll certainly be there, Caesar, and I hope you attend.â
He announced Finnickâs name and district before he left the stage, a large bubble filling your chest. Your head began to pound with every beat of your heart, fingernails digging so deep into your palms that you drew blood. You tried to focus on your breathing like Finnick had taught you, but nothing worked.
âY/N, Y/N darling,â Finnick spoke, holding your cheeks. âLook at me, hey. Only a few more hours, darling, just a few more. I promise you, love.â
You nodded, inhaling deeply with him as he stroked your hair. Your eyes begin to water, but he quickly pats your cheek. âHey, we donât want to ruin Cinnaâs makeup, do we?â As much as his tone was light and playful, it was much more serious and you both knew it.
âI'm scared, Finnick,â you whisper, inhaling shakily. âI donât want to go out there.â
âY/N, where are you, my princess?!â Caesarâs voice was loud, slightly worried before Finnick pressed a kiss to your painted lips. His thumb smudged the lipstick slightly, just enough to take some pigment off but still make you look perfect. âGo, darling, Iâll be right here.â
It takes him shoving you softly for you to go out, a smooth smile immediately gracing your features as Caesar ran to you. You hide your shaking hands in your dress, but Caesar kneels in front of you and offers his hand. You giggled, outstretching your arm for him to take your hand. You quickly fix your face as he kisses the back, holding back a grimace as he looks up at you. âMy princess.â
You curtsy, cheers erupting from the crowd as he led you to the main platform. Your dress cascaded behind you, long pale blue that was almost white, a nod to your wedding dress that you were going to wear the next night. He held your hands high as you sat down, announcing the words, âY/N, the Princess of Panem!â
You close your eyes as the cheers get louder than youâve ever heard, letting your hand slowly fall to your lap as Caesar lets go. When you open them, you tilt your head back, blinking back tears with a slight sniffle.
âY/N, darling,â Caesar switched to the mic on his collar, reaching for your hand again with a sigh. âWe truly feel for you.â
No he didnât, none of them did. Even if you were pregnant, none of them understood, none of them felt what you felt. âIâm sure you could try,â you say, sobbing erupting from the dramatics of the crowd.
Maybe there were some true feelings behind Caesarâs eyes, but you didnât see it. âWhen you volunteered for Mags, did you know?â
You shook your head. âNo, I didnât. Finnick and I have been attempting to have a family since we ended our show,â you inhaled shakily. It wasnât a lie, it really wasnât, but even then, it was horrible. You very well couldâve been truly pregnant from the mornings you were waking up sick, but you fooled yourself into thinking it was just the nervousness of getting out back into the games. âIt has to stick when weâre going to die, right?â
Caesar shook his head, his eyes watering as he squeezed your hand. âYou⊠you should not say that,â he whispers, sighing. âYou do not think you can win?â
You laughed. âCaesar, the Princess of Panem never loses,â your fake joy comes back as the crowd cheered, but then it turned into boos. âBut I would love to think of names for my future child without the fear of dying.â
âOne final question, Y/N,â Caesar says as the crowd quiets down. âIf you would have known⊠would you have still volunteered for Mags?â
You smiled. âCaesar, no matter how much I want this child, if theyâre not born yet, I want Finnick more. Forever and always. If Finnick goes somewhere, I'm with him,â you look back, inhaling deeply when you see his piercing cerulean toned eyes staring at you. âUntil death do we part,â you raise your left hand to him, his own doing the same. âAnd when we meet in our next life.â
When the Third Quarter Quell was announced, you were making dinner for yourself and Finnick. The dish full of expensive fish fell to the floor, breaking on impact as you stared at the hologram TV, holding back a sob as your chest began to swell.
How could this happen? You were supposed to be guaranteed a safe life, a happy life after winning, not that it was actually possible considering the monstrosities you had to do in your own games.
It was common knowledge that you could fight, especially with Finnick as your mentor since the Reaping and practically best friend since birth, but you refused to show any skill during and before your games. Like Johanna in the later games, you werenât deemed a threat until you killed eight people by trapping them in a net and throwing them down a waterfall, surpassing Beteeâs amazing feat of six kills at once. Even then, though, you couldnât protect the person you wanted the most- a young boy, younger than your age of fifteen, Reaped from District 3.Â
Your kills of the games didnât settle in until you left, finally processing the fact that you ended the lives of others who were trying to do the same as you, survive. You had let a superiority complex settle in during your tour, tricking yourself into thinking that if they wanted to live, then they wouldâve tried harder.
It didnât last long, though, after you saw Finnick again- his fake persona immediately falling when he got you alone, kissing you immediately, whispering soft praises and âI thought Iâd never see you againâs. The real torture began when your tour ended and Snow finally pulled you into a horrible underground of the rich and plentiful, selling you to the highest bidder until Finnick stepped in and forced Snow to put him with you.
As much as you felt that it was your fault Finnick was being dragged into this life again, he assured you that it wasnât the case, even though it was- in your mind at least. While Finnick took secrets as payment, you took two things as payment- money in forms of lavish gifts or cash, and death in the form of poisoning them. It wasnât like Snow could do much when you threatened his family just like he did yours.
You learned later on why Finnick accepted this second form of torture, and you hated yourself even more when you figured out it was because of you, because they threatened you. They threatened to kill you, and just like that, you learned another thing about Finnick- he truly loved you, no matter how much you thought differently at first.
After that, you both had finally gotten out of the cruel grip of the Capitol and Snow, finding a makeshift home in the Victors Village of District 4. You and Finnick made your relationship public, to the dismay of Snow, but it was quickly fixed whenever everyone found joy in your relationship. You both even had a television show for a while, almost making your life seem normal until you ended it, dreaming of a life with no cameras and the fake personas you both made.
You knew what some people thought about you and Finnick - the Crown Prince and Princess - the most popular couple that ever happened in the history of Panem, a lustful couple that could never keep their hands off of each other after a series of lovers that werenât quite voluntary.
You were broken out of your thoughts when you heard Caesarâs voice, his horrible laugh you only wanted to forget. He spoke to the other host, smiling. âI wonder if we will be able to see our Prince and Princess again! Oh, I miss seeing them. I miss their reality show as well!â
Claudius laughs. âWell, if we do see them, hopefully itâs in the games! Finnick and Y/N have always been my favorites, theyâre amazing.â
Caesar laughs too. âOh, yes! They are some of my favorites, and who knows, love in the arena again?â
You donât hear the door open, Finnick quickly running into the kitchen of your shared home. He looks down at the broken bowl full of food, but ignores it as he quickly cups your face. âY/N? Darling, look at me.â
Quickly, you do as he says, smiling. âIâm sorry, Finnick. Iâll pick it up now. The floor is clean, I swear on it.â
He groaned. He hated it when your persona just flared up, especially in moments like these when you acted as though you both were on a TV show again. âY/N, donât do that!â
Your eyes widen, gasping as he slowly rubs your cheeks with your thumbs. âWeâre going to be okay, I promise.â
You shook your head. âNo weâre not. No weâre not, weâre going to go back in and weâre going to die.â
He shook his head in response, stroking your face. âIâm not going to let that happen.â
You inhale shakily as he slowly kneeled down, picking up the fish that didnât land on the floor and setting it on another plate. âWhy donât you go set the table?â
You nod, slowly kneeling down to attempt to pick up the broken shards. âYeah, yeah I will-â
He kneeled in front of you, pushing your hands away. âGo set the table. Iâll pick this up.â
You nod as he kisses your hands softly, helping you stand before you go to the dining room. Outside was havoc, and when someone knocked on the door, Finnick beat you to it.
Mags stood there, hands shaking before Finnick slowly grabbed her wrists, helping her inside. âCome eat with us, Mags. Y/N made her famous fish.â
She inhaled, but nodded as she slowly walked to the table. You kiss her head softly, placing a plate in front of her as Finnick sets the food down, an array of sides to go along with the fish such as potatoes, roasted vegetables, and rice. You sit down next to Mags, Finnick on the opposite side of you for the four person table, sighing heavily as everyone begins to serve themselves,
You donât, though, Finnick saying how good your fish always was and how excited he was to have it for dinner. Mags smiles as she slowly eats, almost like a bird, but Finnick stuffed his face. He paused when you didn't serve yourself, but smiled when he reached forward to hold your hand. âAre you tired, my love?â
You nodded, smiling at Mags as you stood. You pressed a kiss to her head, inhaling shakily before moving to Finnick, kissing his lips.
âIâm going to take a shower. I love you.â
He smiled sadly, nodding. âI love you too.â
You slowly go up the stairs, Finnick picking up the plates before washing them and leading Mags outside. As you took a shower, Finnick rubbed his jaw as he held a pipe. Normally, he never smoked - especially opium - but he needed it more than ever now.
Mags waved her hand, holding it out to him before he slowly handed it to her, watching as she inhaled deeply. âI think theyâre going to rig the Reaping,â he whispers, looking back to stare at the restroom light to make sure you were still in there. âFor it to draw me and Y/N.â
Mags exhales the smoke before looking at him, smiling. She makes a gesture, pretending to search in a bowl before gesturing to herself.
It took him a minute, but he shook his head. âNo. No, you canât do that. I wonât let you-â
She pushed him away, putting her middle finger up towards him before handing back the pipe. She stands, pressing a kiss to his head before waving and going back towards her house. He sighed, taking another deep inhale from the pipe before he felt soft hands on his back.
He turns around, smiling when he sees you, your hands running down his spine before going back to his shoulders.
âAre you going to come inside?â
He sighs, shaking his head as he sets down the pipe. âWhy donât you stay out here a little longer with me?â
You accept, slowly laying between his legs before kissing his thighs. âFin? Fin, I want-â
âYou donât have to, darling,â he whispers, stroking your head as you lay on your stomach, kneeling before pressing your chest against the soft fabric of the chair. âDarling, wait-â
You hush him as you slowly pull down his pants, bunching them up at his thighs to watch his cock immediately harden and slap against his stomach. âYou want me to wait when youâre already so hard?â
He laughs. âWell, darling, itâs hard not to when your pretty ass is pressed against my- fuck, got dammit-â
He inhaled sharply as you took him into your mouth, not even half of his length fitting inside of your mouth as you let your jaw go slack. You hold his upper thigh, bobbing your head as he tilts his head back. You hold back gags as you attempt to relax your throat, pushing your head as deep as you could before pulling away, gasping for air as your spit dribbled down his shaft.
You giggle as you use your hand to pump his length, pulling him back into your mouth as his hand slowly cups the back of your head. He groaned out loud, a gasp falling from your lips as he started to shallowly thrust, grunting. âFuck, darling, youâre always so good. So, so fucking good.â
You hummed around him, watching as his eyes rolled back, another hand going to cup and squeeze his balls. His hips buck, a gag falling from your lips as your own rut against the chair, desperate for friction.
His moans get louder as you press your face against his pelvis, tiny pubes pressing against your nose from his well groomed body, groaning out as he pulls back your hair. You could feel your saliva running down your chin, gagging with each thrust as he cursed. âLet them hear us, darling. Let all of them hear us fucking.â
It wasnât the first time you both had sex outside, but this was the first you both werenât holding back. You could hear the wet noises echoing in the trees, the slow trickling of the river near by you and Finnick swam in before, where you both had made love too. It was rare you and Finnick didnât fuck somewhere, especially in Victors Village.
You gagged loudly, thankful for the fact that Magsâ house was far away from your own. If there was one thing that you never wanted in your lifetime, it was for Mags to hear her adopted children having sex.
Your thoughts were distracted as Finnick pulled you closer, hips thrusting faster, harder. His cock was pounding, thrusting into you quickly, grunts echoing as he groaned. âFucking hell, darling, youâre doing so good. Fuck, fuck! Youâre perfect, câmon, focus on me. Focus on me.â
You nodded around his cock, gagging as you pulled away just for him to bring you straight back down. He laughs, staring down at your wide, hazy eyes as he stroked your cheek. You looked so innocent sucking him off, choking and gagging so prettily around his cock.
It had taken you both time to actually have sex and enjoy it, and actually finish because of pleasure instead of faking. Now, almost every touch from each other turned the other on, and you both wouldnât have it any other way. He sucks in a breath as he forces you deep into his cock, your choking turning him on even more as you squeezed his ball sac. He groans out your name, hips bucking quickly before he cums, balls basically clenching as he cums down your throat.
Your eyes rolled back as you hollowed out your cheeks, sucking as hard as you could to take all of his cum as deep as you could. You swallow all of it, as much as you could before he pulls out, the rest of his cum filling your mouth. With a giggle, you open your mouth wide as he stares down at you, leaning towards your face to kiss your lips. His saliva mixed with his cum and your own, your cunt aching as he pulled you back into his lap, his cock already hard and prodding at your sex.
âFuck, darling,â he whispers, watching as you swallow and lick at your lips and down your chin. âHoly shit.â
âYou taste so good,â you whisper, gasping as he slowly pulls at your dress, bunching it up at your waist. He pulled your panties to the side, a gasp falling from your mouth as his head slowly prods against your cunt, slowly pushing inside of you. You throw your head back, groaning loudly. âFuck, Finnick!â
He groans into your chest, his hands moving from his cock to your back, rubbing at your spine before pulling at the ties of your nightgown. The breast area of your nightgown quickly falls as he unties your dress, leaning down to press his lips against your nipples, popping and sucking against them. You pull him closer, groaning as he sucked on one, his hands cupping at your tits as your hips buck into his.
âFin, Fin, Fin, Finnick!â You moaned out, gasping as his hips thrust upward, into you, deep and deeper, his cock hitting every sensitive spot inside of you as you groaned.
âFuck darling, just like that. Come on, get off on my cock. Wanna watch your face as you cum over and over, again and again.â He laughs as he drags his teeth over your nipple, watching your face scrunch up in a mix of pleasure and pain. âCome on, cum. Your pretty little cunt clenches when you're close.â
His tongue flicked at your nipple, his other hand pushing down under your dress, his nimble fingers rubbing at your clit. âCome on. Cum. Cum, now. You want to feel good, right? Cum. Want to watch you fall apart.â
You scream out, whining as he leans up, licking and sucking at your neck before snapping his hips up. His tip felt as though it was pushing into your stomach, his fat cock stretching you out so good as his tip makes a noticeable bulge on your tummy. You could see it from under your dress, his other hand moving from your breast to your stomach, pushing and rubbing at the bulge as the other does the same to your clit.
You screamed out, eyes watering with pleasure filled tears and you whined loudly. âFuck, fuck! Yes, yes Finnick!â
He laughs, kissing your neck. âYou still havenât cum yet, darling. I canât cum until you do, I fucking love you too much. Come on, come on! Do I need to do more, darling? Give you more pleasure?â
You shake your head, mouth lulling open. âNo, no, itâs too much! Too much, Fin, fuck!â
âItâs too much and you still havenât cum?â He laughs, his fingers squeezing your swollen, sensitive clit as you screamed out. Your walls clamp down on him, his hips thrusting up into you until his balls pressed against your ass. You choked, eyes rolling back as you came, a mind blurring orgasm immediately processing itself through your body- nails digging into his shoulders, dragging down his back before his cum spurts into you.
It was quick, cum filling your deepest parts, almost inflating you as he rubs against the bulge. You were being filled, cum pushing into your deepest parts as he pulled you lower.
âYes, darling,â he praises, kissing at your neck as he pants. Your weak form collapses onto him as he strokes your back. âYou did so good.â
âAgain, Finnick,â you whisper, rubbing your face against his shoulder. âI want to be filled by you again.â
He nods, how could he resist you? How could he refuse something you wanted?
âYes, darling,â he repeats. âWhatever you want.â
He took you inside, fucking you over and over again anywhere you wanted. You both werenât even fucking anymore, not whenever you both got to your bed, now making love as he panted above you. You were so full, so full of him, of Finnick, the man you wanted to marry and to grow old with.
You werenât able to, though, not after this Quarter Quell. You sobbed against his chest as he cradled your body, pulling you as close as possible as he kissed your head. His tanned skin was rough, covered in scars, his hands rubbing at your back to calm you down as his soft voice whispers into your ear. He whispers praises, assurances that he would never let anything happen to you. His golden hair made a halo over his face as you looked up, sea green eyes staring down at yours glazed over in unshed tears.
âFinnick, Iâm scared. Iâm so scared.â
Again, he shook his head. âDonât be scared. You donât need to be scared, I wonât let anything happen to you.â
âI want to be with you, Finnick. I want to be with you until the end of time, until Iâm dead.â
âDonât say that. Donât say that, Y/N.â
You shook your head, cupping his cheeks. âWhy? Itâs the truth. I want you, Iâm going to be with you until my heart stops. Promise me youâll do the same, please.â
His eyes water, tears finally running down his cheeks as he nods. âI promise, darling. Thereâs nowhere else Iâd rather be.â
You smiled, stroking his cheeks to rid them of tears. âI wish I couldâve had your babies, Finnick,â you choked back a sob, eyes watering as he gasps. âI wish we couldâve had children.â
âStop, please stop, Y/N,â he sobs this time, leaning forward to kiss your tear covered lips. âStop saying those things.â
âIn our next life, Finnick,â you smiled, stroking his cheeks before kissing his lips. âIn our next life, I swear to you, we will be happy. We will be safe. We will,â you inhaled shakily. âWe will live a long, happy life together. Weâll have children, weâll have a family. Nothing horrible will happen to us, no traumas, nothing. I swear to you.â
He sobs, pulling you closer. âIâm sorry. Iâm sorry I canât do that for you in this life.â
And you kissed him. You kissed him so hard, throwing your weight over him, pulling his mouth as much as you could into yours. Your tongues dance, rubbing and swirling around each otherâs before your hips rut against his. âYouâve done so much for me now. In this life. Youâve made me the happiest woman in this life, I swear.â
He smiles at you. âI love you, Y/N. I love you so much.â
You giggle sadly, nodding. âI love you too, Finnick. I love you, now and forever.â
The next day would be the Reaping, and soon, the Third Quarter Quell. You were going to make sure Finnick got out alive, even if it was at the cost of your own life.
You didnât know he was thinking the same thing.
next part will be uploaded this Wednesday (and linked in masterlist and the link for next part) (05.10.23)
Heyy, would you write something with aemond, perhaps an arranged marriage and struggling conceiving⊠feel free to ignore
"still nothing?"
you felt like a kicked puppy. sitting in a chair looking down at your lap while alicent talked with her son, your husband.
You were from a minor house from the north, stripped from your home and taken down south to marry the prince in the hopes to secure a more friendly relationship between the south and north.
you were however failing the one job you were given. you felt sick to your stomach.
when you first met aemond you felt like you had won the greatest prize, thanking whatever gods we're listening for giving you such a blessing. He was kind, much kinder than any other man had been. he treated you with respect and even made sure you were taken care of in the bedroom.
something that still irked you about him was that you couldn't tell if he genuinely liked you. sure his actions were kind but he never really spoke to you. seven hells he never even kisses you.
he was a very strange man but you grew to love him all the same. it had been a couple months since the two of you had been married and were still unable to conceive.
aemond shook his head and alicent sighed, rubbing her temples before turning back to you. you would normally apologize but today you feel so embarrassed about it.
"you're dismissing dear."
you stand and silently make your way towards the door and exit. this was humiliating, what was wrong with you? why couldn't you just do this one thing? you didn't look at aemonds expression and you didn't want to, expecting to see disappointment and anger.
you didn't even notice you had left your notebook in alicents room, you had to go fetch you. as much as you didn't want to go back in there you needed to get your notebook so you quickly turn around to go get it.
once you reach the door you lift your hand to knock but freeze at the conversation inside.
"it has been months aemond! aegon and heleana had there children swiftly after marriage yet this one is not happening." there is silence and alicent sigh in anger at aemonds quietness.
"maybe its time we consider other options aemond. shes clearly not producing any heirs and the royal line must continue."
You stumble back with tears in your eyes. No you couldn't lose aemond. you gulp, why? why were you so useless that you couldnt do this one thing? his silence is everything. you rush away quickly to your room., ignore the odd stares from the maids.
you hide yourself under the covers of your bed and allow yourself to cry.
The day passes and the sun sets while you rot in bed. the door opens and your eyes shoot open. hes too early. its much too early in the day despite it being night for him to be returning now.
you pray he doesn't come over to you. you can hear his footsteps suddenly pause for a moment and you hold your breath. he lets out a sigh and his footsteps move closer to you.
youre frozen. he suddenly rips the sheet off of you and you shriek, burying your head into the pillow. "my lady..." his words are soft, in a pleading tone which tugs at your heart.
"my prince." you mumble into the pillow, not wanting to face him. he sighs once more and places a hand on your back.
"are you feeling well? you did not attend dinner." ah dinner was it really that late? you two always had dinner together. he must have come looking once you didnt show.
"im sorry my prince, i lost track of time."
he notes you dont answer his question, "my lady, if something is bothering you please tell me."
your eyes well up with tears again, why did he have to be so sweet? you suddenly sit up, a sudden rush of emotions floods you.
"please do not find another lady."
he gives you a bewildered look, "whatever are you talking about my lady."
you looks down as the tears begin to flow heavily, "im sorry i haven't conceived yet. please just allow me to try again, i can i promise please do not find somebody else to do it."
You let out a sob as you finish, you loved him so much you did not want him to go looking for someone else.
he places a hand on you chin and forces you to look up at him.
"i would never do such a think. i do not know where you got such an absurd idea from but it shall never happen, you are my wife. i am with you till death do us part."
you sniffle, "but the queen had suggested-"
he lets out a sigh and shakes his head, "is that what this is about?" you quickly shut up and sighs again.
"she had suggested it when you had left yes. but i had told her no. you are my wife."
"but what if i am unable to-"
"it does not matter."
"but the queen..."
he looks you in the eyes and you feel yourself melt in the warmth. "there is nobody else other than you. and there shall never be."
he kisses you. it had been the first time since your wedding he had kisses you and you never felt happier.
once he pulled away he rested his forehead onto yours. "it shall always be you."
he pulls away and gives you a smile, "plus it has only been a few months since he have married, there are still plenty more opportunities for you to get pregnant."
safe to say, it wasnt long since after the doctors confirmed you were indeed pregnant.
Synopsis: The desire to see him was stronger than knowing that it might not last after all
Warnings: Mature
It has been a month since you discovered that the man you loved and which your heart was yearning for was to get married to a noble lady from Germany. It has also been a month since you called things of between you guys. You didnât want to stand between his duties as a king and his duties to you as your lover.
So you made the cut yourself ending your relationship.
You heard that the wedding would take place at the Main Chapel in London. You knew he would stay at his new estate in Buckingham Palace with his servants and his right hand man Reynolds. And with the start of their Honeymoon it would be a month until you could catch a glimpse of him.
'Have you heard?' Your father asked you placing tonight dinner in front of you.
You frowned wanting him to continue. 'The King just arrived and it seems heâs alone, without his wife.â You breathe hitched and you could hear your heart beating faster and faster.
Why was he here? Shouldnât he be with his wife are they spending their time separately? You couldnât find and answer and you wished your thoughts would stop looking for any.
'Why are you telling me this?' You asked ignoring the sad look heâs giving you. You loved your father dearly but he kept insisting you to speak to George at least open his letters.
There were at least 20 of them, he would make Reynolds deliver them to you ever other day. The first ones you were destroyed by you not wanting to read what he had to say. But the rest was kept hidden by your father.
To be honest you were thankful for him doing that. You wanted closure and maybe those letters would help you find it.
'I know you still love him despite everything that happened. Iâm also pretty sure he still loves you just open the last letter Reynolds brought and decide for yourself. Married or not you canât hide feelings.'
'We are to different,father' you mumbled.
'In what way? I see a you man loving a beautiful and smart young woman.' He said placing the letters in front of you, it was a whole box but the one that stood out the most was without Royal stamp.
'Royal or not royal those titles shouldnât define anything.' He patted your head leaving you alone.
Your tear droplets started to blur out the ink on the letter. You didnât bother wiping your tears away why couldnât you love somebody else.
Why the King of Great Britain? You knew everything had a reason and you didnât wish to live in agony any longer. You got up getting your cloak hastily. You blew out the candles in front of you not even telling your father that you are leaving.
But he didnât have to them your father was standing near the window seeing your figure running out of the house. His face was plastered with a content smile, he knew youâd make a good decision.
It was getting darker but you could already see the Estate. You greeted the maids which passed you. You were in your thoughts that you didnât see yourself running into the man you were looking for.
Reynolds
'Oh my god, Iâm sorry Reynolds I didnât see you' you said helping him up.
âItâs fine, what are you doing here?' He asked surprised with a visible frown on his forehead. Before you could answer he saw the letter in your hand, and all he did was smirk happily.
âYouâll find him in his Observatoryâ you beamed happily, but before you could even pass him he grabbed your wrist.
'He was not himself so please donât hurt him, I beg you.' He muttered releasing you from his grasp.
'I wonât Reynolds' you smiled sadly.
You made your way to the Observatory feeling utterly nervous. Each step felt heavier and heavier but you knew what to do. You saw that the door was open and stepping closer you saw his body leaning in front of several blueprints.
'Get out Reynolds' he said in a tone you never really heard from him.
âItâs me' you said hesitantly.
You could see his body freezing when you voice echoed into the room.
'I must truly be turning into a mad man' he whispered to himself. You step closer Into the room until u stood right behind him.
'You arenât turning into a mad man' you whispered placing your hand onto his right shoulder to turn him around so he could face you. His eyes were closed and you could see that he wasnât taking your break up well.
You tugged the letter into your bust and placed your hands onto his cheeks. He didnât dare to look up his eyes were closed tightly thinking if he opened them you wouldnât be there anymore.
'Open your eyes for me my love' you whispered stroking his face gently. You saw his trembling hands reaching up to your face, and when he placed his hands onto you cheeks he finally opened his eyes. Realizing that you were were truly there made him break out in tears.
'Itâs okey Georgie, Iâm here' you muttered placing a kiss onto his forehead. You pulled yourself back wiping his tears away.
'Iâm sorry that I left' you said placing a longing kiss onto his lips. He reacted immediately pressing you closer to himself like youâd vanish any minute.
He slipped his tongue into your mouth roaming around like a starved man. Who hasnât been fed in days. You pulled back breathing heavily but you didnât waste a second to smash you lips back onto his.
His hands started to roam around your body as you tugged onto his hair wanting to feel him all over you. George pulled back pressing his face onto your chest sucking heavily on them. He wanted to loosen your dress when he felt something poking out of your cleavage. He looked closely and recognized it immediately, it was the last letter he wrote to you.
'You read it' he said looking up to you. You nodded getting it out handing it to him. He opened it seeing all the your dried tears spots.
'Yes I did, thatâs why Iâm here Georgie'
'I never wanted to hurt you, believe me. This marriage is only political, to have better trading routes between Germany and Britain. I donât love her and Iâll never love her my love. She is also not delighted about being sold off by her brothers. When I told Reynolds to hand you those letters I had hope, that you would come back to me. But which each letter my hope somewhat disappeared but I still held onto it. Because I knew that someday youâd come back to me. He said showing you the smile you loved the most.
'You truly love me' your said knowing the answer. 'If loved you from the moment I saw you walking through the meadow garden. All my heart wants is you.' He said pressing a kiss onto your lips.
But it was interrupted by loud steps coming closer and closer and a voice yelling.
A startled gasp left your parted lips, your feet tripping over one another, almost leaving you to topple over. Yet before you could fall a pair of strong hands stabilised your waist, whilst your own focus was on stabilising the very expensive - luckily empty - teapot in your grasp.
âI am incredibly sorâŠâ you began to stutter out, ducking your head in shame of bumping into one of your employers.
âShh, it is only I, Darling,â the kind voice you knew so well whispered.
You breathed out a sigh of relief, finally daring to look up into the kind blue eyes that stared back at you with nothing but adoration.
âBenedict,â you smiled, stepping half a step closer to him out of instinct. The hands on your waist tightened at the way you spoke his name - to Benedict; it was as if angels were singing and beautiful string music was playing.
And there you stood, with a teapot between you, staring at one another with lopsided smiles and longing in your eyes, keeping you frozen in place to savour the rare moment you found yourself in.
A faint thump somewhere in the house was what shook you from your trance; you jumped back and out of his grasp, looking up and down the hallway to make sure no one saw you in such a compromised position.
âI apologise, Mr Bridgerton,â you spoke at normal volume, curtsying before hurriedly walking past him.
You didnât make it very far before a hand stopped you by curling around your arm, the black fabric of your uniform scrunching under his hold.
âCome see me tonight,â Benedict pleaded softly, looking at you with hope - as if you hadnât already planned a rendezvous.
You nodded with a smile, looking both ways down the hallway twice before quickly going back to peck him softly on the cheek. Benedict grinned, pulling you back when you tried to make your leave again to place a longing kiss on your forehead and first then did he let you go.
âI will count the minutes, my angel,â he whispered, walking backwards slowly, watching you disappear down the steps and out of sight.
You couldnât keep the smile off your face, even as you returned the teapot to the kitchen. The kitchen-maid gave you a knowing look.
âYou must tell me what jape the tea has bestowed upon you to have you smile so giddily,â she smirked.
You quickly wiped off the ridiculously large grin, heat travelling up your neck.
âOh, I just overheard something amusing from Hyacinth,â you explained, gathering the silverware to bring to the dining table in preparation for supper.
âMy dear, I may be a kitchen maid, but in no means does that make me simple-mindedâŠ- I do have eyes as well⊠and I do recognise the look of love from a certain second born Bridgerton brother,â she mused, stirring in the pot before her.
âKeep your voice down, please,â you hissed through a whisper, âcould you imagine the scandal!â
âOh please⊠Mr Bridgerton is but the second born, therefore giving him limitless options in choosing a wife,â she waved her hand about.
You shook your head, the silverware clinking in your grasp, âand you believe the viscount would give his blessing for his brother to marry a housemaid? I would certainly think not⊠it would ruin the family name.â
âIt would do no such thing⊠with the eldest son a viscount and the eldest daughter a duchess; it gives the rest of the children enough freedom to marry who they so please,â she argued, now pointing the ladle at you.
âI wish that to be true, but I do not believe they can choose just anyone⊠and certainly not household staff,â you sighed, âbut I thank you for dreaming for me.â
She stood silently, watching as you exited the kitchen with the plates you swiftly collected to bring up and into the dining room.
Just as you finished placing the last knife, making sure everything looked presentable for the family, a pair of arms snaked around your middle, pulling you to him.
You gasped but calmed when you took notice of the fainted charcoal remnants on the person's hands - belonging to only one person.
His lips left a soft trail of kisses down the side of your neck and, in their wake, prompted goosebumps to appear on your covered arms and back.
âBenedict⊠someone may see,â you whispered, yet leaned your body back against him as his grip tightened possessively on you.
âI could not possibly wait to see you, and I cannot find it in myself to care if anyone should see⊠in fact, I want them to,â Benedict murmured, sucking marks onto that certain sweet spot on your neck that made you whimper.
You whined lowly, straining your eyes to keep them from fluttering shut, âBenedict⊠I would be out of a job if anyone were to see.â
âI would never allow that,â Benedict murmured against your throat, pulling you from the table and towards a more secluded corner of the hallway, tucked between two large cabinets.
âAh, but you are not the viscount, my love,â you stated matter of factly, ignoring how your stomach fluttered as he pressed your back up against the wall, caging you in against it with his body.
âLuckily.â
Benedictâs face was bright with a smirk, pressing himself up against you, creating a bubble of warmth between the two of you.
He slowly leaned down to speak lowly in your ear, his warm breath grazing your already heated cheek.
â-will you allow me to have you, angel?â
A small gasp left your parted lips as he nibbled lightly on your ear, dragging his lips back against your cheek, leaving small kisses on their path to your lips.
His face drew back from yours before your lips attached; he raised his eyebrow expectantly, a small comforting smile permanently placed on his lips as he waited for your nod of agreement.
You looked both ways - looking and listening for any sort of commotion from the staff or people of the house⊠people who werenât supposed to witness you fraternising with a Bridgerton brother.
After a long moment, your eyes found Benedictâs once again to give him a subtle nod.
His smile only grew before leaning down to crash his lips against yours; his arms snaked around you, keeping the gap between you nonexistent. His hands squeezed your body, scrunching your black uniform - his white shirt wrinkled in your grip as you tried to find a steady place on him to hold.
His tongue prodded your lips open enough to slip in and tangle with yours; he soaked up all your whimpers, only pressing you closer to him after each sound. Even through the layers of your dress and slip could you feel him - his trousers growing tighter by the second.
A breath was granted to you as he pulled back to look at your face, giving your flushed appearance an appreciative glance - a small string of saliva connecting you. His grin was as large as ever, cocking his head to bend down to leave large wet kisses on your neck, nosing the collar of your maid uniform down.
âThis is quite improper, Mr Bridgerton,â you heaved, biting back the whimper that threatened to escape your swollen lips.
You could feel the smirk on your neck, but his assault didnât cease, âoh, I am quite aware, my angel,â he nipped at the sensitive flesh before switching sides, basking in the way you gasped and how your fingers tightened on his arm.
âBenedict⊠please,â you whined, pulling him from your neck to show him the desperate look that dawned your face.
He ran a thumb over your bottom lip, tracing it delicately before sinking to his knees in front of you.
âI believe I know just what my beautiful girl desires⊠if she is agreeable?â he grinned, eyes sparkling when you nodded. His large hands bunched up the excessive fabric of your dress, looking up at you with a mischievous grin, âhold this, please.â
You did as he asked, holding up your dress and slip; still, you kept an eye on both sides of the hallway, scared that someone would walk past at any given time to see you exposed and vulnerable.
âBeautiful as ever, my sweet,â Benedict murmured, kissing paths up your inner thighs, purposely drawing out his teasing.
You bit down hard on your lip to keep yourself from whining loudly. Your knees almost buckled at the soft kisses he left on you, his warm breath fanning over your cunt, but never attaching as you wished it would - and with your dress in your hands, you couldnât even pull him to you⊠you could do nothing but watch.
His eyes twinkled with mischief as he looked up at you, giving you a wink before finally doing as you wished - attaching his lips to your aching cunt.
Your teeth dug so hard into your lip you were sure it would draw blood, but you also knew that you wouldnât be able to silence your noises if you were to ease your bite.
Benedictâs tongue worked with precision, keeping an intoxicating pattern on your clit and alternating to tongue at your weeping entrance.
You couldnât keep your knees from bending, even if you tried - the only reason you hadnât collapsed was because of Benedictâs hands firmly holding your thighs in a tight grip, feeling them shake in his hands every time his tongue flicked your clit just right.
The slurping sounds he produced from in between your legs were downright sinful. You couldnât help the small breathy âoh godâ that left your lips.
âAre you able to stand on your own, my sweet?â Benedict breathed, flicking his tongue against your clit as he waited for an answer, enjoying how your eyes fluttered and you struggled to produce words.
You looked down at him with hooded eyes, nodding your head as you tried to stabilise your shaky legs.
His right hand left your leg, keeping you stable with only one hand.
Fingers brushed against your entrance, coating themselves in arousal before two of them pushed into you, instantly curling and spreading you. He kept his mouth attached to your clit, watching to ensure you wouldnât collapse on the wooden floor beneath.
Benedictâs fingers worked steadily, searching for that special spot inside you - and with little search, his mission was a success - he could tell heâd found it by your sharp inhale and inability to keep your eyes open and on him.
âGive it to me, sweet girl,â he breathed, reattaching himself to your clit as soon as the words were spoken, feeling the telltale signs of your release, your cunt squeezing his fingers as it pulsed. He groaned against you, the vibrations pulling you right over the edge youâd been balancing on.
You bit down hard on your bottom lip, the irony taste of blood seeping from the small puncture your teeth had caused. Your eyes shut tight, concentrating on not letting any noises fall from your swollen lips as Benedict pumped his fingers slowly through your release; he revelled in the way you tensed in his hold, your legs shaking and the grip on your dress loosening slightly.
You could feel his smile on you, accompanied by his warm breath.
His fingers glistened with the evidence of your pleasure as he pulled them from you, making a dramatic show of sucking them clean.
Standing from the floor, he took your hands in his forcing your dress to fall back in place, covering up your slick covered thighs.
The grin on his face made your heart melt; you couldnât help but wrap your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes to pepper appreciative kisses all around his face.
âThank you⊠thank you⊠thank you,â you whispered between kisses, smiling at the chuckle that rumbled his chest.
Benedictâs grip on you tightened, pulling you into a loving embrace, âI shall be sure to indulge in actives such as these more frequently if this is the response I acquire.â
âYou, my love, are a distraction from my work,â you sighed, bending your head to rest against his shoulder.
âIf it were up to me, you would not have to work⊠I would take care of you,â Benedict thought out loud, caressing the back of your head, careful not to ruin your neatly pinned hairstyle.
âUnfortunately, it is not,â you whispered, voice muffled by his shining vest.
Benedict drew in a breath, opening his mouth to say something more, but the clanging of dishes and distant sounding voices stopped his thoughts.
âI love you,â he whispered quickly, placing a parting kiss on your forehead before you could leave his arms.
Timing was apparently on your side because as soon as you had stepped a decent step back from him, Eloise came bursting into the hallway.
âBenedict! You promised me a show of the illustrations you have conjured for my novel,â she sighed, clearly exasperated from her search for him. She gave you a smile as she noticed you.
You realised it must have looked weird for you to just stand, doing nothing but stare at her brother.
âExcuse me, Mr BridgertonâŠ. miss Bridgerton, I must finish preparing the room for supper,â you curtsied, smiling softly at him before making way to pass him, but not without feeling his hand brush yours softly.
The clattering of cutlery against plates and soft conversation filled the dining room of the Bridgerton estate - a rare evening where the whole family was gathered around the long table - with the exception of Daphne.
You stood by - out of sight and mind - not paying much attention to the conversation that took place; the only thing that piqued your interest was the glances Benedict seemed to give you - letting his eyes linger on you for far too long for it to seem accidental or innocent.
Only a minute passed before the sound of a chair scraping against the floor pulled you from your thoughts.
âI must apologise, mother, but I feel a headache coming⊠I shall therefore retire and continue my supper in my room,â Benedict excused, already standing from the table.
Violetâs eyes widened in concern; shaking her head, she waved him off, âoh dear, of course⊠I will send someone to check on you later.â
âI do not think that should be necessary⊠some rest should do it,â he shook his head, gathering his plate with his half-eaten meal.
Suddenly his eyes met yours, ây/n, would you be so kind as to gather my glass and napkin?â
âOf course, Mr Bridgerton,â you nodded, choosing to ignore the whole family watching you. The viscount raised a brow at Benedict - it didnât go unnoticed that he was perfectly capable of carrying all of it by himself but chose not to. With a last goodbye and a kiss to his mothers cheek, Benedict departed the room with you right in tow. You released a breath when the conversation resumed, and you were no longer under investigation by the head of the house.
Watching the man in front of you walk with slightly hastened steps, you wondered for a moment if what Benedict had said was true, but the quick glance and smirk he spared you was enough to dull your concerns. He slowed his steps enough to fall into step with you, walking beside you - closer than what was necessary and appropriate.
âBenedict Bridgerton, are you not aware that lying is a sin?â you teased as soon as the door was shut behind you.
Your heart fluttered when the soft sound of his chuckle hit your ears, âI was not lying,â he grinned, placing his plate down on the small round table he had beside his easel, âand yet I find myself feeling perfectly fine as of now.â
He crossed the room with a few long strides, pulling you to him gently to not spill the contents of his glass you were still holding.
âI suppose I am healed,â Benedict whispered, leaning down to place a sweet kiss on your cheek - leaving his face against yours as he nuzzled against your cheek.
You huffed out a laugh, âa true miracle.â
ââŠ- BenedictâŠthe glass⊠I am afraid I shall drop it.â
He only hummed, walking backwards with you in his arms still - blindly hoping he wouldnât crash into the table.
When he didnât crash but instead stopped in front of it, he carefully took the glass from you to place on the table; within an instant, you were back in his tight embrace, sighing as you buried yourself in his neck.
âI wish we could stay like this forever,â you mumbled into his skin, tightening your hold on him.
âWe could, my darling⊠if you were to marry me,â Benedict murmured into your hair.
With a jolt, you detached your face from his neck, âwhat?â
âMarry me.â
You sighed, âBenedict⊠you and I both know that that is not possible; your brother would never allow you to scandalise your family name like that.â
âI do not need my brother's permission to marry,â he huffed, moving his hand up to stroke your cheek, âand besides⊠Daphne has already secured the family name.â
âAnd who is to say if that is enough? Enough for you to marry a housemaid?â
âAnthony does not control what I do, and I am sure that we would be doing Eloise a great favour if we were to scandalise the Bridgerton name,â he grinned.
You shook your head, âAnd what of Francesca or poor Hyacinth⊠what are they to do? And what if Lord Bridgerton were to cut off your funds? What would you do then?â
âI am sure Anthony is more than capable of finding matches for them⊠and no one would care by then if we are away, living somewhere peacefully in the countryâŠâ
â-and if he were to cut off my funds, I suppose I would have to get an honest job and make sure you are taken care of.â
The smile on your face stretched ear to ear; you couldnât help but swoon over him - he never ceased to amaze you.
âYou would do that?â You asked incredulously, staring at him with wide eyes.
âWell, of course, my love,â he smiled back softly, tipping your chin up to leave a gentle kiss on your lips.
âI love you, Benedict Bridgerton⊠even if you were a cook, or a footman, or even a gossip writer,â you chuckled, leaning your forehead against his.
âAnd I love you, my sweet girl⊠- I shall speak with Anthony first thing tomorrow, and from there, we shall know whether or not I am to become a gossip writer,â he smirked, squeezing your waist with his left hand.
â-but first⊠I fear I may keep you from your work for the rest of the night as I am terribly ill and require constant care from my soon to be wife.â
âYou forget one thing, my darling⊠- I have not yet accepted,â you smirked, pressing your lips hard against his before he could fire a quick quip right back at you.
Are you taking requests? Could you write an anthony Bridgeton fic where the reader is very poor, and the opposite of who he is supposed to be with, but he falls for her anyway?
Pinned
Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x f!reader
A/N: a little short and sweet but Anthony x a working-class girl is something I didnât know I needed until I got this ask. Thank you for the request!Â
Word count: 1.4k
Summary: A young seamstress catches the attention of a certain Viscount.
Next part
You can find my other Bridgerton fics here
âIf you wouldnât mind stepping up, my Lord,â You asked softly as you squatted to adjust the bottom hem of the pants you were fitting to Lord Bridgerton.Â
The Bridgerton brothers had descended upon your bossâ tailor shop this afternoon, all looking to get new suits fitted for the season. While Mr. Raugland sized up the youngest Mr. Bridgerton, who had gone through an impressive growth spurt during his year at Eton, you were tasked with ensuring the measurements of the older two brothers. You were pretty sure there was another brother, but he had not come with the others today so perhaps youâd just imagined him.
After you finished pinning the open hem at the bottom of Lord Bridgertonâs pants you straightened yourself back out and wiped your hands on your apron before inspecting the cut of the overcoat draped over his shoulders.Â
Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at the cuffs of the jacket.
âArms out, please, sir,â You told him.
He complied, never looking away from his brother, who was chatting loudly with him as he waited his turn for a fitting.Â
Youâd grown used to this work. And the reality of being ignored by men whilst you poked and prodded at them wasnât something you minded. At least not anymore.
Frankly, you didnât want to make conversation whilst you worked fittings, and strongly preferred ignorance to the leering looks and unwanted attention that other gentlemen gave you. Mr. Raugland was a great boss if only in the sense that he was quick to remove you from a client if they started to get too familiar with you.Â
Once youâd finished fitting the older two brothers you quickly took the garments into the back of the shop and got back to work. You were going to have a late night, trying to get these garments, along with the rest of your work, finished and back into their hands by the end of the week.
And you had no time to waste, not if you wanted to remain employed. It wouldnât take Mr. Raugland long to replace you with someone else who could do the work just as fast if you couldnât keep up with the load.Â
And that was not an option.
The next evening you were rushing through Mayfair with the final box for the Bridgertons tucked under your arm.
Youâd completed the first two deliveries, the older two brothers lived in separate Bachelor lodgings across town, closer to the shop. Why on earth three brothers needed to live in three completely different homes made no sense to you, but it meant there were three different delivery charges so you werenât going to complain.
Besides, the youngest brother still lived with his mother and sisters, in one of the beautiful large homes for the landed gentry in fashionable Mayfair. Walking through this part of town made it almost easy to forget one's troubles, and imagine a far easier, perfect life.Â
The walk gives you a chance to daydream whilst you traverse the streets, imagining what it might be like to live in one of these homes, to spend oneâs days leisurely, drinking tea and eating biscuits, and completing little embroidery projects instead of sewing entire garments in hours.Â
Youâd been so lost in that particular daydream that you hadnât seen the tall figure coming through the Bridgerton house door just as you went to knock on the door.
âMy Lord!â You exclaimed as you jumped back from the door as it swung open suddenly. âIâm so sorry, you frightened me.â
âAnd you are?â He asks.
âIâm here to deliver Mr. Gregoryâs new coat and pants,â You explain quickly. âIâve just dropped your garments at your address.â
You tell him your name. âI work for Mr. Raugland,â You add, though the blank stare you receive tells you that he has no recollection of seeing you.
âI-â You hesitate slightly. Already embarrassed at the need to remind him that you spent an hour crouched at his feet, fiddling with his hem. âI fitted you for your new coat yesterday.â
âOh, yes, I remember you now,â The Viscount replies.
You study him curiously. You don't believe him, of course. But youâd never say that sort of thing to a gentlemanâs face.Â
You hand off the package to a footman who steps out when he notices the package youâre clutching in your hands. You hand it off to him with a grateful smile, appreciative that you donât have to track down a member of the household to find the proper person to hand it off to.
You turn back to Lord Bridgerton, surprised to find him still standing next to you, watching you as you face him once again.Â
âYou and your many brothers keep us in business,â You finally say. Desperate to say anything so you donât have to continue standing in this awkward silence.
âWhy are you out delivering, arenât there boys who do that for you,â He says as he gestures with a nod of his head to the footman stepping back into the house.
âOh, I was heading in this direction anyway,â You reply with a shake of your head. And frankly, you needed the extra money. Not that youâd ever tell someone like him that.
âAnd where are you off to now?â He asks curiously.
âA meeting,â You reply as you glance up at him, descending the steps up to the house, and onto the pavement to make your way back down the street.
âWhat kind of meeting?â He asks as he follows you down.
âItâs not a meeting for someone like you, my lord,â You tell him with a slight smile as you shake your head.
âWell you canât walk alone, let me at least accompany you,â Lord Bridgerton tells you.
You stare at him for a moment, as if heâd grown two heads. A Viscount offering to escort you? Perhaps you were still daydreaming. That would be the only explanation for this sort of madness.
âSir, I assure you that I will be fine,â You reply quickly, dismissing his offer as politely as you can. âIâve been walking around London by myself for years, I donât think tonight needs to be the night that changes.â
Lord Bridgerton merely stared at you with his eyebrow raised, and his stupidly handsome face and you had no choice but to sigh and continue to walk, allowing him to follow beside you.
âSo what is this meeting about?â He finally asks as he turns to look at you.
You pause for a moment. Thus far heâs been kind enough, and the offer to escort you was odd, but did not feel improper. So you decide to tell him the truth.
âTopics Iâm sure are not of interest to you, and that will surely get me fired,â You tell him honestly. âRight of workers, women, that sort of thing,â You explain.
He raises his eyebrows as he glances over at you. âAnd you go to these meetings often?â
âYes,â You tell him with a nod. âMy brother fancies himself a bit of a revolutionary. A political leader for the working class. He works on those pamphlets that get circulated about the vote.â
âYouâre a radical,â He says. Itâs not a question, or even a judgment, really. He says it lightly. As if itâs a perfectly normal and natural thing.
âIf wanting people to be treated equally makes me a radical, then yes, I am,â You reply.
âYou would love my sister,â He says with a chuckle. âIâm sure she would love to learn a thing or two from you.â
You smile at the sound of his laughter and look away briefly. What a strange night this has turned into. Who would have thought youâd be laughing alongside a gentleman.Â
âThis is where the meeting is,â You tell him once you arrive at the meeting house. âIâm afraid if you step inside looking like that⊠well the men wonât take kindly to someone like you snooping around, you best be on your way.â
âVery well,â He replies, not looking the slightest bit off-put by your frankness. Though he does hesitate slightly. âGood night, Miss.â
âGood night, my lord,â You reply with a small smile.
cws: kaz's trauma but not explicit details, spicy making out (?)
"are you sure you want to do this?" you ask gently, your hands pressed against kaz's clothed chest. he was avoiding your gaze, breathing deeply, as if preparing for something unbearable. his dark eyes met yours, and he softened.
"yes, i'm sure."
you and kaz brekker's relationship was, for lack of a better term, complicated. trying to be intimate or romantic with someone who despised physical touch was difficult, but you truly loved kaz, and so was willing to put up with it in the short term. but kaz could see it bothered you, and had to admit even to himself that he craved your touch, so you both decided that the best way for him to get over it was to just do it in a safe environment until it felt okay for him.
you were sat on his lap behind his desk, your legs straddling his waist. kaz shakily removed his gloves, and tossed them aside. he looked raw, vulnerable, like an open wound.
"you ready?" you whispered, lifting your shirt up slightly to reveal the skin of your waist and hips. kaz stared hungrily for a few moments, before tentatively placing his fingertips on your skin. slowly, he added more, until his cool palms were pressed against you. he was breathing in a controlled manor, but you could tell it took effort. he moved his hands around smoothly, taking you in fully.
"y/n, i..." he began, his mouth dry. you wondered for a moment if he was going to back out.
"yes?" you asked.
he looked up at you again, a hunger in his eyes you'd not yet seen. "kiss me."
you blinked. you'd never kissed kaz brekker before. you'd wanted to, but he'd never condoned it. you supposed the exposure therapy was working.
you reached your hand up onto his cheek, and he leaned into your palm, his eyes fluttering close. you kissed him gently, your lips warm against his cold skin. he didn't kiss back at first, but slowly his mouth opened, and he took you in. his hands gripped your hips, pulling you further onto him. when you pulled away, you were blushing furiously.
"that's...that's enough, for today." kaz panted, removing his hands from your skin.
"o-okay." you replied drowsily. you lifted yourself from him and turned away, too flustered to face him. you heard him stand and reapply his gloves, before hearing the cane's tap on the floor, and the office door shutting behind you.
Young at Heart: Performance (Benedict Bridgerton x Reader)
Benedict Bridgerton x fem!Reader
Rated: G, the fluffiest fluff that ever fluffed
Word count: 2.6k
Masterpost
Summary: A puppet show for the children puts you and Benedict in close proximity.
Author's Note: Steamy puppet show? This could only come from the mind of @chaoticcalzoneranchsports đ Adding a wee bit of heat to this fluffy fluff fic. Hope you enjoy! đ
You were jittery as you made your way to the nursery at the appointed time, torn squarely between chastising yourself for agreeing to this vaguely inappropriate private meeting with Benedict, but also undeniably excited to see more of him. You were developing an infatuation like a silly young girl, that much was clear. You shouldnât have entertained it, but he was so warm and welcoming, his humor so infectious, you were happier in his presence. You already considered your life at Aubrey Hall to be joyful, but the addition of Benedict made it border on magical. Despite knowing better, you would allow yourself this little indulgence. What could be the harm in chatting and sparring as you both looked after the children? He was brother to a Viscount and you were the hired help. Playful banter is all that could ever exist between you.
When you entered the nursery you found him rummaging through the chest next to the theater box. He looked up with his trademark smile as you approached.
âMiss y/l/n! Ready for your stage debut?â
You rolled your eyes but couldnât hide a grin. âI suppose my hands are, yes.â
âThatâs a start.â He beckoned you to kneel beside him at the chest. It was filled to the brim with puppets and marionettes in a rainbow of colorful clothing. It seemed almost an excessive amount of toys for one household, but when you remembered that the prior generation of Bridgertons was comprised of eight children, it began to seem justified. Benedict dug into the pile, pulling out figure after figure, inspecting clowns and horses and devils.
âNow, we have to come up with a story. What do you think will hold their interest?â
âThey love the classic fairytales.â
âAlright, so we shall need a princess.â He sifted and found an elegant puppet of a woman in a green dress. âAnd a handsome prince, of course.â He produced a figure in a smart jacket with gilt epaulets. âWho canâŠâ He dug deeper, then pulled out an amorphous lump of grey fabric with hastily sewn button eyes, clearly a childâs creation. â...save her from a monster. So, why would the monster be after the princess?â
You bit your lip as you pawed through the chest yourself, looking for something that would spark inspiration. You found it in the form of a miniature basket, just the right size to accompany the princess.
âShe has something he wants. Biscuits?â
If the childrensâ faces lit up half as bright as Benedictâs did in that moment, you would consider the show a success. âOh, no doubt the boys will understand that motivation. Very clever. We have our story!â Cheerily, he closed the chest and began arranging the puppets on the lid.
You marveled at his confidence, speaking aloud when you perhaps should have held your tongue. âDo you simply have boundless talent when it comes to creative endeavors?â
His brows raised, confused.
Now you felt bashful, but needed to explain yourself. Heat began to creep up your neck. âIâve seen your paintings, in the room you keep as a studio.â
âYou noticed?â His voice was so soft, his eyes so hopeful, it melted something inside you. Some layer of nerves fell away and you felt as if you were speaking to a friend.
âThey are very good.â You nodded. âYou have a flair for sparking the imagination, Mr. Bridgerton, whether with your oils or your words.â
âThat is kind of you to say.â Now you were both blushing. âAnd you seem to have unlimited patience and energy to chase after all my nephews. I donât know how you do it all day.â
You chuckled. âThey are sweet boys. I believe I have their loving family to thank for their good temperaments. And it has been easier with so much help extended to me.â You looked at him pointedly, hoping to convey your sincere gratitude for how much happiness he brought to the children and by extension, to you.
He took your meaning, then the telltale smirk spread across his face. âEven when that help teaches them cheeky pranks?âÂ
You couldnât help but return his smile. âYes, even then.âÂ
Then a stillness arose between you, much as it had the night before when he had looked up at you from one knee, his fingers warm around your ankle, his eyes twinkling with something you couldnât interpret. They looked the same now as you held each otherâs gaze. The silence together was comfortable. More comfortable than it should have been, given your position.
You remembered yourself and stood. âSo how should weâŠ?â
âRight,â Benedict seemed to shake himself back into the room as well, gathering the puppets and standing to face you. âYou can voice the princess, and carry your basket like so.â Gently, he maneuvered the green skirt of the princess onto your right hand and the tiny basket into your left, guiding your hands together so that she appeared to be carrying it. He held the other two figures aloft, grinning. âAnd I will be the monster, and the dashing prince.â He held the little man up next to his face with a cocky twist of his head for you to compare. You huffed a laugh.
Then he stepped closer, voice lowered and head bent toward you. âWe find ourselves in these roles yet again, and so soon after our last performance.â
The warmth that had been gathering in your cheeks went rushing down your back and through your limbs, your whole body feeling somehow exhilarated and petrified simultaneously. This was not just friendly banter, this was blatant flirtation. Twice now he had positioned himself as the prince to your princess, and it seemed he wanted your opinion of it. You certainly had one, but it was the stuff of fairytales, and entirely inappropriate for you to humor or hope for.Â
You had to step out of his radius before you grew lightheaded, so brushed past him and ducked into the theater box.
âSo I crouch down here?â You asked, trying to sound innocent but you suspected you only sounded flustered.Â
He followed behind, shifting so that he was tucked against the wall and you near the exit.Â
âYes, here, kneel down.â He dropped to his knees on one of the cushions that lined the floor of the box and bid you to follow suit. You did so, anxiously fiddling with the toys in your hands.
Benedict smiled, reached over and gently held your wrist. You sucked in your breath, unable to focus on anything but his fingers, elegant and impossibly long, pressing softly into your skin. âTake the puppet, and hold it up.â He guided your arm above your head so that it peeked over the crest of the stage. You were frozen, letting him orchestrate you as your heart started to pound. You feared he may feel your pulse racing in his grasp.
âNo need to be nervous,â he chuckled, âthis isnât the Globe. Just a touch lower,â He pulled your hand down a fraction, never loosening his grip, and then fluidly reached around your back to grasp your other hand holding the basket and bring it up to the stage as well. âThere.â
He was surrounding you now, both of his hands on your wrists, his arms lying parallel across the top of yours, his torso just an inch from your back, close enough to feel the heat of him. You were enveloped, fighting the urge in every muscle to simply melt backward and let him hold you. The air between you grew heavy with everything you could not say, but wanted each other to understand nonetheless.Â
His voice dropped to a rumble, his words spoken so closely, you could feel his breath across your cheek. âHow does that feel?â
You were growing dizzy, overwhelmed with the feeling of him everywhere, with how clear his intentions had become and how very much you welcomed them. âGood,â you sighed shakily. âI feelâŠâ
A peal of laughter echoed down the hall and caused you both to leap apart and stand. A stampede of tiny footsteps and approaching squeals soon led to the three nephews barrelling into the room, followed closely by a beleaguered looking Colin, carrying Caroline on his arm. The boys immediately fell to playing with toys, babbling amongst themselves.
âHello, everyone!â You greeted them, smoothing your hair and skirts as if it would somehow calm your racing heart.
âHello, hello, here we are.â Colin shepherded the children into the seats arranged before the theater and sat, bouncing his niece in his lap.
âHow was the lake?â you asked.
âNot enough to deprive them of their energy, Iâm afraid.â He rolled his eyes. âWe are ready for this performance Uncle Benny has promised us.â
âIt is sure to delight.â Benedict announced behind you, then sank to his knees within the theater again.
Timidly, you followed suit, crouching out of sight. You were nestled together again, shoulders brushing in the confined space. You held the princess and basket above your head as he had instructed but were so flustered, you had entirely forgotten the story you agreed upon.
Starting to panic, your eyes darted to Benedict. He grinned, gentle and encouraging, mouthing silently to you, âOnce upon a time.â
Oh yes. The plot came flooding back and you called out to the audience beyond, dancing your hands across the window of the stage as you spoke. âOnce upon a time there was a princess, but she had no kingdom and so lived in a cottage in the forest. She loved to bake biscuits and hers were the most delicious biscuits in the land. Every day she would walk through the wood to the nearby village to sell her wares.â
Benedict slipped the prince puppet onto his hand and popped it into view as well, picking up the story. âIn the castle at the center of the village lived a prince who loved to eat biscuits, but also loved hunting. He could slay beasts of any size with his trusty sword. One day, when he was hunting in the woods, he could smell the most captivating aroma of biscuits coming from the cottage. But the biscuits were also drawing the attention of a terrifying creature who lived in the deepest, darkest part of the wood.â He slowly raised his hand with the grey lump of a puppet, staging his threatening entrance and beginning to speak with an ominous growl. âThe dreaded monster namedâŠâ
You watched as he frowned, questing for a name. Then he peeked his eyes over the stage. âColin.â
The resulting groan and chorus of giggles made you look over the edge too. Colin was scowling but completely helpless to defend himself as his nephews poked at his knees and Caroline burbled in his lap.
Holding back your own laughter, you returned to the story. âAs the princess was walking on the path to the village, suddenly the monster jumped in front of her.â
Benedict skirted the monster over to the princess, revealing another frightfully entertaining character voice. ââGive me biscuits!â He roared. The prince heard the roar and began to head toward the noise.â Both of his hands shifted closer to yours, his shoulder beginning to press against you. You turned and found him looking at you intently. "The princess was frightened, but she was also courageous, and clever.â
His arched brow spurred you to action. âShe shouted, âGet away from me you beast!â And then threw her basket of biscuits into the wood.â You acted the part, letting your hand with the basket soar to the far end of the stage, crossing an arm over Benedictâs.
He took your cue effortlessly. âThe monster, who wanted to eat biscuits just a little bit more than he wanted to eat people, ran after the basket, which had landed at the feet of the prince!â Both of his hands framed yours. You held still, incapable of thinking about anything but your proximity.Â
âWhen the prince saw the monster approach, he took out his trusty sword and struck him through, killing the foul creature for good and all.â Pitting a conflict between his two puppets, Benedict felled the monster in dramatic fashion, followed by cheers from the onlookers. You both giggled within the theater box, and you assumed the tale had concluded. But then Benedict took his now monster-less hand and wrapped it once more around your wrist holding the basket, moving it in tandem with the prince. âThen the prince picked up the basket and brought it back to the princess.â Now your hands were gathered at the center of the stage, prince and princess tucked close to one another, and he never relinquished his hold on your wrist.Â
Your mind whirred, distracted by the softness of his skin, by the press of him against your side. In a quavering voice, you kept narrating, unsure of how to conclude. âTo thank him, she shared the biscuits with him.â
You had entirely stopped looking at the puppets or attempting to move them. With Benedict so close you could only turn and fall into his eyes, holding yours in that impossible, glittering way again, only inches away. He smiled, his voice loud enough for the audience but you knew it was directly primarily at you. âAnd they were so delicious and the princess was so beautiful, that the prince instantly fell in love with her and kissed her.â
As the prince puppet leaned in to peck the princess, Benedict leaned toward you, his eyes falling to your lips.Â
âAnd they lived happily ever after.â You exhaled, the words tumbling out as a reflex.
You were lost, deaf to anything but the sounds of how you shared the air between you. This couldnât be happeningâŠCould he actually be⊠Giving in to the irresistible, you felt yourself swaying forward too. Fireworks began to burst in your mind as your noses touched.
Then a chorus of squeals and applause erupted from the other side of the wall hiding you, and you pulled back. You may have been out of sight but you were not alone, and by all rights you should not have been doing this at all.Â
Entirely out of sorts with your heart pounding again, you leapt to your feet to see the children gleefully praising the show. Benedict quickly stood beside you and you both bowed, doing your best to plaster on a smile despite how your mind was reeling. Colin was applauding along with the boys, but quirked a brow at you both.
âRemarkable,â he mused.
You scurried out of the theater box, unable to meet the eyes of either brother, and gathered Caroline in your arms.Â
Benedictâs voice was tight behind you. âThank you, Miss y/l/n. Iâm afraid I have some things to attend to.â Then he strode briskly out of the room.
Colin looked back at you, his tone friendly but curious. âYes, I do as well. Excellent performance, Miss y/l/n.â You nodded in thanks but continued to avert your eyes, convinced your blush was revealing all. âBe good for Miss y/l/n you lot, Iâll see you soon.â Patting the little heads as he went, Colin gave a final bow then left too.Â
You bounced Caroline anxiously, reliving every sensation in your mind. The repeated grasp of Benedictâs fingers, the invitation in his eyes, the heat of him crowding around you, your brush with an impossible kissâŠ
Now he seemed cross with you. Cross or embarrassed, or perhaps just as confused as you were. What on earth were you supposed to do now? As Barney shrieked and overturned a jar of coloring pencils, you found your answer. All you could do was your job and keep your focus on the children.
Young at Heart: Prank (Benedict Bridgerton x Reader)
Benedict Bridgerton x fem!Reader
Rated: G, the fluffiest fluff that ever fluffed
Word count: 1.7k
Masterpost
Summary: You catch the Bridgerton boys in some mischief.
Author's Note: This prompt comes from the incomparable @bridgertontess who rightly knew that these boys would get up to no good. And their target? Well, that was a foregone conclusion too. đ Thank you Tess and hope you enjoy!
The following days with your charges passed quickly. There would have been enough to do with four stationary children, but with a baby on your arm and three boys with boundless energy and an unmatched capacity for chatter, it was nearly overwhelming. It might have been impossible if they were not all well behaved. The Duchess and Viscountess were with you on and off throughout each day and doted endlessly on their children. The Dowager Viscountess also adored helping you entertain her grandchildren, and was the one best acquainted with every toy and secret tucked within the expansive nursery. It quickly became clear that the love and happiness you witnessed within the Viscountâs immediate family were emotions shared by all of his relatives. It was exceptionally rare to find so much joy in a single household, and you thanked the stars that you had found employment in this one.Â
The noise and bustle of people through the halls was nonstop. In addition to the children, there were always siblings laughing or playfully rowing with one another, the flowing grace of the ranking ladies dictating tasks to the army of staff, and the steady command of the Viscount and Duke as they carried their own gravity through the house and the grounds. You couldnât help yourself from admiring them all, each beautiful Bridgerton and in-law with their quirks and quips. Eloise and Hyacinth were particularly theatrical, with Benedict and Colin often serving as referees or secret instigators, and you sometimes had to hide your laughter when you caught them bantering with each other. Each time he saw you, Benedict flashed that lopsided grin. It made you feel seen, it made you feel welcome, and it knotted your stomach in a way you chose to ignore. He was cheeky, but you appreciated his warmth.
You bore the brunt of his cheekiness one afternoon when he, Colin and Gregory took their nephews outside for the day. You were grateful for the reprieve and spent the time quietly with Caroline. After the Duchess insisted on supervising her nap, you decided some fresh air would be good for you as well. Making your way outside, you turned into a particular corridor and an odd sight met your eyes. It was a ball, lavender and small enough to be held in the hand, rolling slowly down the hall at an angle toward a door - the Viscountâs study door. You paused and watched with curiosity as it tapped the bottom of the wood and came to rest.
A muffled âHello?â sounded from inside the study.
It was only when you heard a collection of hisses and giggles from the far end of the hall that you looked up to see the profiles of four faces, one at a significant height over three much smaller, peering around the corner. Benedict and the boys. The ploy became clear when Benedict crouched down next to Augie and whispered to him. The uncle was clearly the one providing direction in this game of hallway bowling, as he pointed out the appropriate angle and then watched Augie launch his own green ball toward the door.
This one hit with a much more significant thud.Â
âHelloooo?â The Viscount called even louder from within his study, triggering an eruption of restrained laughter from the far end of the hall. It was then that Benedict looked up and saw you, and immediately brought a finger to his lips, begging for your silence. You were caught in the middle. You supposed you could have turned away and let everything play out without your involvement, but that felt cowardly somehow. It was your job to watch the children. You certainly werenât going to cut into the Viscountâs study and disrupt him, nor tattle on his brother or the children. Perhaps the only thing you could do was quietly pick your way down the hall, hoping the Viscount didnât emerge, and convince them all to stop their ruse. But before you could take a step, Benedict had angled Neddyâs shoulders in just the right way and his black ball went whizzing across the tile and slammed into the door.
Then everything seemed to happen at once. No sooner had the third ball hit the door then it swung inward and the Viscount stepped out, his face locked in agitation as he began to scan the hall. But his booted foot landed directly upon the wooden toys gathered there and he slipped, propelling his arms as he fell backward dramatically onto the threshold.Â
Your surprised cry was likely the only reason he did not hear the burst of riotous laughter from the far corner. Instinct drove you to the doorway as you watched Benedict and the children duck out of sight. The Viscount was sitting himself up, grimacing and nearly steaming from the ears. You knelt beside him.
âMy lord, are you alright?â
âYes,â he angrily waved you away and clambered to his feet. âWhat on earthâŠ?â When his eyes fell to the colored balls dotting the hallway floor, they filled with a sort of aggravated recognition. âThe children,â he huffed, nostrils flaring.
You wouldnât be lying if you didnât provide further clarification. You were loyal to your employer, but not a snitch. The same skills you used to calm the nerves of frazzled children were often useful on their parents as well. âThese things are bound to happen with so many little ones in the house, my lord.â You offered him a gentle smile, trying to convey sympathy rather than amusement.
His jaw clenched, but the fire faded out of his posture as he nodded. âYou are right.â
âI imagine you and your siblings were much the same, growing up here.â
At this he smiled, his features brightening into an entirely different man. This was the Viscount as you saw him with his son, the one full of love, hidden though he may have been at times. âIndeed we were,â there was a hint of a chuckle to his tone, and he seemed to grow misty, lost in his memories.
âI will be sure to reprimand themâŠâ
âNo,â He cut you off quietly, shaking his head. âYou donât need to scold them. The parents will see to their discipline.âÂ
Something in the way he said it, with a sense of intent rather than wrath, touched your heart. He wanted to be involved in his childâs life, much more so than any other parent you had worked for, and it was endearing. He looked at you with good humor in his warm brown eyes.
âBut if you could keep them from scheming again, if you catch it in timeâŠâ
You smiled widely. âUnderstood, my lord.â
He returned your smile, and then with a curtsy, you backed out of the room and closed the door behind you. All you could think as you marched purposefully toward the far end of the hall was how lucky Benedict and the children were to have such a merciful head of family. Many other boys - or brothers - would have been made to pay for creating such a spectacle. When you turned the corner you found the culprits huddled together, Benedict trying to shush the three boys who were cackling with glee as they recounted the Viscountâs extraordinary fall. He turned in alarm as you approached, eyes wide with anticipatory guilt, a look you were certain he must have worn frequently as a child himself.
When he saw it was just you, he exhaled in disbelief. âYou didnât turn us in.â
The boyish lilt of gratitude in his voice and the relief in his eyes softened something inside you, but you pursed your lips, intent to make your disapproval clear.
âI should have. I donât appreciate you teaching poor behavior to my charges.â
The easy smile and devil-may-care attitude settled upon him again. âIt was a harmless prank.â
You crossed your arms. âIâm not sure if the Viscount would call it harmless.â You couldnât imagine how he had been managing his seven younger siblings, and for so long. He would have been well within his rights to hire two nurses, one for his children and one for them.
âOh, ignore him.â Benedict scoffed, then stepped closer. âI saw you laughing when he fell. You canât deny it.â Then his voice dropped lower. âThere is clearly some degree of mischief in you, Miss y/l/n, to grant us your discretion.â
You felt yourself blush, strangely overheated under his gaze. It was clear that remaining professionally courteous and distant from one another was not a consideration of his. Some part of you enjoyed it, something dormant that had begun stirring.
âAnd to keep up with these three, right boys?â He crowed louder again, walking over to the children and tousling their hair.
You blinked, reminding yourself that you were here to voice your disapproval. âWell yes, I suppose I must use it to know what you are all getting up to, you silly little things.â You smiled and crouched down, commanding an audience from the three little faces. You spoke firmly, adopting that precise tone to let them know you were not angry, but needed to be heard. âNow remember, whatever your uncles tell you, at the end of the day you must answer to your fathers, yes?âÂ
Three dark little heads nodded in unison.
âAnd you donât want them too cross with you, do you?â The heads shook emphatically. âAlright, so if you are ever reprimanded, just tell the truth that your uncle told you to do it.â As you said it, you shot your eyes up at Benedict and smirked.
He gaped, aghast at your treachery.Â
Then you stood, herding the brood together and ushering them back down the hall. Benedict stayed where he was and you turned, trying your best to sound supercilious. âYou have my discretion Mr. Bridgerton, but I am not going to teach these children to lie.â
At this his gape transformed into that exaggerated pout, and you knew your wit had struck its target. With a smile, you turned back and kept walking.
As a parting volley he let out an exaggerated sigh. âAnd we were just about to get the glue.â
The withering stare you threw over your shoulder caused him to burst into laughter.
Young At Heart: Punch (Benedict Bridgerton x Reader)
Benedict Bridgerton x fem!Reader
Rated: G, the fluffiest fluff that ever fluffed
Word count: 2.4k
Masterpost
Summary: The Bridgerton family gathers at Aubrey Hall and two of the uncles put on a show for you and the children.
Author's Note: This adorable idea came from the imagination of @queen-of-the-misfit-toys which kicked off the prompts for happy/silly Benedict stories. Benedict definitely has theater kid energy đ Thank you for the prompt and I hope you enjoy! đ
Aubrey Hall was the loudest noble home you had ever worked in. Or, at least it was now. Not that you had a large basis of comparison, this being only your third post in your career as a nursemaid. When you interviewed for the position you had met the Viscountess Bridgerton, glowing in her second pregnancy, and her firstborn, little Edmund. For the first four years of his life the family had gone without a dedicated nursemaid, with the Viscountess herself taking charge of his upbringing, along with assistance from her housekeeper, her mother-in-law the Dowager Viscountess, and even her husband. It was an unusual circumstance to find parents so devoted to close interaction with their child, but it gave you a good impression about the type of family they were. But now that there was another little Bridgerton on the way, you had been hired to look after the future viscount and his eventual new sibling, caring for them until they were old enough for formal tutelage with a governess.Â
Your new residence of Aubrey Hall, sweeping, beautiful, and nestled in the hills of Kent, had been peaceful for the first two months of your employment. You quickly fell into a good rapport with Edmund, or Neddy as he preferred, and developed a great admiration for the kind Viscountess. The Viscount also treated you with respect but was often occupied with business. While his brow carried an intense furrow and his jaw was often clenched in the company of others, you were privy to the quiet moments with his son and wife. That was when he revealed his hidden facets, those of a deeply contented family man - playful, loving, and fiercely protective. This was an excellent family, and you were looking forward to spending several years in their orbit.
What they had neglected to tell you beforehand was how prolific the wider Bridgerton clan was. You could have researched them yourself, not that it would have changed your interest in the position, but you did not expect that the entirety of them would descend on the country seat at the close of the London season and start of autumn. Even the eldest daughter Daphne, now Duchess of Hastings, traveled with her family from their home at Clyvedon for a reunion with all the siblings. The Viscountess had given you full notice that the Duchess was bringing her own three children, August aged five, Barnaby aged four though a bit younger than Neddy, and little Caroline, not yet a year old. She had kindly offered to support you with more staff but you were eager to prove yourself and agreed to manage all the children on your own. It was only temporary after all, and you had cared for three children in one of your previous posts, though they were all sisters and you werenât caring for a baby simultaneously. Nonetheless, you had agreed to rise to the challenge.
That was how you found yourself, a bit dazed as carriage after carriage rolled up the gravel drive, producing one gorgeous chestnut-haired Bridgerton after another. Six younger siblings arriving with the Dowager Viscountess and an army of servants, then the Duke and Duchess with their valet, ladies maid, and brood of their own. The noise of cheer and lighthearted bickering broke out at once, and you kept your bearings by focusing on Neddy, always standing nearby as he was fawned over by his aunts and uncles. When the Duchess introduced you to her children, you delighted in how the two little boys stood so proud and ready for your inspection, the younger clearly imitating his older brother. They didnât seem to have any objection to you and immediately fell into playing with their cousin while you chatted with the Duchess about Caroline. She placed the little girl into your arms and her tiny eyes sparkled before she buried her face into your shoulder with a giggle.Â
Rather than task you with whisking the children away, the entire army of Bridgertons wanted to be present together in the drawing room. Your job was nearly being done for you as you watched the youngest aunt and uncle, Hyacinth and Gregory, clatter around and entertain the three little boys with their toys. You rocked Caroline gently as the Duchess invited you to join her and the Viscountess where they sat. The love in the room was palpable.
When the adults began to bow out for various activities, you knew it was time to wrangle the children to their own space. The Duchess smiled sweetly as you balanced Caroline and called the three little boys together, bidding them to say their farewells.
That was when a groan sounded from one of the Bridgertons on a far sofa. âAwww,â he swung around to face you, his bottom lip folded into an exaggerated frown. âI didnât even get to see them yet.â
Oh my. You had barely been able to register what each of the Bridgertons looked like, or indeed how many there even were, during the whirlwind of everyoneâs arrival. This one, one of the Viscountâs brothers, was strikingly similar in appearance and yet more gentle looking. And he was a very handsome man, even with his childish pout.Â
âYes,â Another Bridgerton brother piped up beside him, a third copy of the Viscount. âYouâve been hogging them all. We havenât gotten to spend any time with our niece and nephews.â
âWell, no one is stopping you from entertaining them now.â The Duchess responded primly. âIâm sure that Miss y/l/n would appreciate the help if you wanted to spend time with them in the nursery.â She turned back to you and you could see the kindness and cleverness in her blue eyes. She understood how full your hands were, but also did not want to undermine you.
âYes,â you confirmed, your voice a bit uneven as you turned back to the first brother. âWe can all go up to the nursery now. There are plenty of amusements for everyone.â
âEven a puppet theater!â Neddy crowed, jumping up and down and causing his cousinsâ eyes to light.
âYes, even a puppet theater.â You nodded at the three excited little faces gathered around your skirt.
âWell, then Iâd say itâs time for a performance!â The second brother walked over and lifted Neddy under the arms, raising him high enough for the boy to perch on his shoulders, locking his tiny hands under his chin to hold on. âColin Bridgerton,â he introduced himself to you with a warm smile, which you returned.
As the other, taller brother crossed the room, Barnaby immediately turned to him with outstretched fingers, bouncing eagerly.
âUncle Benny, up up!â
With a broad grin the uncle knelt toward him. âBarnaby Basset, my brave little man. Come here,â In one smooth motion he lifted the boy, let him clasp his arms around his neck and swung him so that he rode pick-a-back. Then he turned his kind eyes to you. âPleasure to meet you, Miss y/l/n. Iâm Benedict.â
âMr. Bridgerton,â You cast your eyes down in greeting, but also to keep yourself from staring too long into the blue-grey depths that seemed to hold you in fascination. You surveyed the lot of them, five eager-eyed Bridgerton boys, young and old. âAre we all ready then?â
âUp, up!â Crowed Barnaby over Benedictâs shoulder.
His uncle chucked. âIndeed, we are going up even further. Upstairs.â
Colin waved August ahead of you all. âLead the way, good sir.â Dutifully jutting his chin in the air, the eldest little boy marched forward, leading your happy parade through the house and up to the nursery, guided by your whispered directions.
Once you reached your destination, the excited squealing began. The younger boys both wriggled off of their uncles to join August and they tore through the room, Neddy pointing out every toy and hiding place with pride. They quickly clustered around the puppet theater tucked in a far corner and began jumping in place, demanding a performance. Colin and Benedict were only too happy to oblige, gathering chairs for their audience. As you tried to settle the little ones, the uncles pored through a nearby chest of puppets.
âAh!â Colin exclaimed, âMr. Punch!â He proudly held aloft an old puppet, red nosed and holding his trademark slapstick.Â
âExcellent,â Benedict grinned. âI shall be Mr. Punch and you shall be Judy.â He plucked the figure off his brotherâs hand and stooped to maneuver into the theater box.
âHold on! I found it! Why are you Punch?â Colin argued. You had to fight the giggle rising in your throat, watching these grown men bicker like children. Your charges who sat patiently at your side seemed better behaved.Â
âBecause Iâm better at the voice.â Benedict shot back casually.
âWell, I wonât be your wife.â Colin spat. âIâll be the banker or someone.â He began to dig through the chest again.
âIsnât Punch and Judy intended for one performer?â You tried to sound innocent but couldnât resist the urge to rile them, they were already too entertaining.Â
Benedict popped his head into view and smiled, a devastating, lopsided grin that was suddenly the brightest point of light in the room. âWe can adapt.âÂ
You nodded and turned back to the children. Caroline was dozing gently in your arms, undisturbed by the excitement around her, and the boys squirmed in their chairs, waiting for the show. Colin found a satisfactory puppet, disappeared into the box beside Benedict and the theatrical began.
It was all you could do not to burst into hysterics hearing Benedict voice Mr. Punch. He was far too talented at the awful, nasally whine of the misguided fool. Whether or not the boys had encountered this character before, their eyes lit up with delight as he introduced himself and then led them on his day full of misadventure. Soon enough, he encountered the banker, voiced in a smug baritone by Colin. At first he duped Mr. Punch by spiriting away bags of money while Punch was counting them, a joke that left the nephews shrieking with laughter. But once Punch caught on, he exacted his revenge by beating the banker with his slapstick. The attack became spirited and the banker even managed to wrest the stick away and began hitting him back. You suspected this was not part of the original sketch, and your suspicion was confirmed when both the slapstick and puppets disappeared beneath the edge of the theater box entirely.Â
The children grew silent and curious as low angry voices and sounds of a tousle arose beneath the now empty stage and the entire structure began to shake. Lord help you. You thought you were getting two adults to assist in keeping everyone occupied, but now realized you had only added two overgrown children to your assembly. You cleared your throat loudly, which fortunately called the men back to themselves and two chestnut heads peeked over the top of the stage. Colinâs cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and Benedict pulled another of his dramatic pouts. You wanted to be cross with them for setting a bad example, but they were so charming even in their quarreling, that you said nothing and just fixed them with stern eyes. They quickly disappeared again and the puppets returned to the stage, made amends, completed their adventure and bowed to the cheerful applause of the little ones. Holding Caroline, you couldnât clap yourself, but did smile widely as the men emerged and performed dramatic bows of their own, clearly pleased with the happy reception. The subsequent chatter while the boys circled around their unclesâ knees did cause the baby to fuss and you stood to rock her.
âAllow me,â Colin walked to you with a gentle grin. You settled his niece into his outstretched arms and he began to bounce and coo to her contentedly. Again you marveled at the love and commitment evident in each member of this expansive family. Parents so dedicated to connection with their children, and aunts and uncles so invested in their joy. It was rare to find in any family, but particularly in one so wealthy and titled where the upbringing of children was often left to an army of staff. But that was clearly not the way with the Bridgerton family.
You turned to Benedict and were reminded that not only was this family uncommonly kind, they were also all uncommonly attractive. He had herded the boys into playing with carved miniature horses and you joined him in watching over them.
âColin has a way with babies,â he assured you. âYou can trust him with Caroline.â
You returned his smile with gratitude. âThank you both for being here. It is lovely to see a family that wants to spend so much time together.â
âWell, Clyvedon is so far away, we canât pass up the opportunity to see these imps while weâve got them.â He tousled Barnabyâs hair but the boy was too engrossed to look up.
âThat was an excellent performance Mr. Bridgerton, despite the unexpected interlude.â He smirked at you with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. You had seen that look on the faces of children you had worked with before. He was a troublemaker, but likely got away with his misbehavior more often than not. When those traits endured into adulthood, they often spelled something exciting, and perhaps a bit dangerous. âYou are frightfully good as Mr. Punch.â
He scoffed but you could see he enjoyed the praise. âItâs nothing. Well, itâs years of practice with my siblings. I was usually the one putting on the shows while we were growing up.â
âYouâve become very skilled at it. The children wouldnât stop laughing. I could never hope to perform like that.â
âDonât sell yourself short,â he leaned in, his kind eyes focused on you. âYouâre certainly not like most of the shriveled old nursemaids Iâve met, no offense to your colleagues. You must be something of an actress to entertain children all day.â
The way he addressed you was so open and honest, as if you were a friend and not the hired help. It disarmed you in the most pleasant way, inviting you to be playful and honest too. âHow can you know? Youâve only just met me.â
âI expect Iâll get to know you better over the coming days.â That charming smile was going to be troublesome. Despite your better judgment, you sincerely hoped he would.Â
he was a fucking bastard. you were fuming with rage upon hearing of his affair with the opera singer. you were inconsolable in the first hours after, clutching onto daphneâs skirts as you cried your little heart out. you cursed her brother, cursed the man you called your husband, and cried until the duke had to carry you to bed, so his wife could be relived of being your own personal tissue.
you stirred in your bed when you heard the doors open, a shuffle of footsteps alerted you to anthonyâs presence.
luckily, daphne had warned her family and the staff before she left, not to sleep too deeply because you were going to tear into anthony.
as soon as you rubbed the crust out of your eyes, you blinked and your eyes flickered onto anthony, who seemed oblivious to your knowledge.
âdidnât mean to wake you, darling.â he was undressing and you narrowed your eyes.
âi guess you also didnât mean to tell me about siena.â you couldnât dance around the subject, you were too angry, even after your nap, your anger was like an entire separate being, something that fueled you.
anthony had always known that you were a person who felt too much, who felt too little, and often you blew up if you kept it all in. he had begged you to communicate with him after the first few months of your marriage was rougher than heâd initially believed it wouldâve been. he had fallen in love with you but it was harder to stay in love.
now, he didnât know how to defend himself as he swallowed thickly.
âim a man. im allowed to have a mistress.â he stopped undressing and moved towards the bed, his steps light as he composed himself from any shock.
your eye twitched slightly as anthony braced himself for your explosion. but your lips settled into a tight lipped line, âget the hell out.â
anthony raised an eyebrow, âwhat?â he knew exactly what you had said, but he was more surprised that you had even said it.
âi said, get out. sleep on the couch, sleep on the floor outside like the fucking dog you are- i donât care, anthony. i donât want you in my bedroom and i certainly donât want you sleeping next to me.â your voice was like venom, each word was a stinging blow to anthony as he stood there speechless.
you were upset. you wanted nothing more than to scream, shout, throw things, destroy everything in sight and more, but you realized thatâs exactly what anthony had expected, so you shrugged it off and waited until anthony bowed his head in embarrassment, collected some of his things and flew out of the room. and only then did you cry, tears broke and you held your sobs in, knowing that the rest of the bridgerton family had been listening, waiting like your husband, for your outburst. you struggled to sleep that night, for the first time in many years.
benedict had thought his brother to be the biggest idiot on the planet. he had courted you, married you, and he still wasnât happy? benedict couldnât even imagine that it was your bedroom skills, considering how happy anthony had been after your first night together, and many more after that. even your cries at night were enough to keep benedict awake with a throbbing erection, begging for friction.
you didnât show up to breakfast, anthony was distraught at breakfast and spoke tightly to everyone, especially his mother who had begged him to go apologize to you. anthony had ignored her advice, âi know my wife better than any of you!â perhaps he had been right, but times that anthony had ignored you at dinner where the times that benedict had gotten to know you more, conversed and chatted with you. he could confidently say that your intelligence rivaled those of the men he surrounded himself with.
benedict had asked your maid about your condition and the maidâs grim expression was enough to warrant a visit. benedict knew you liked watching him draw, and he brought his sketch pad, hoping it would help cheer you up if he drew whatever you wanted.
a knock on the door awoke you. the candles in your bedroom were dim and the moonlight pouring in from the window were enough to help illuminate the path towards the door. it was late, perhaps anthony had come to grab more of his things, or perhaps heâd come back ready to get an earful.
but you opened the door to find a sheepish benedict smiling on the other end.
âben.â you spoke his name quietly and benedict nodded, âiâm not even allowed to be here but i snuck around.â you peered behind him and stepped aside, letting him in.
benedict sucked in air as he stepped inside the warm room, and he turned back to look at you, your hands still on the doorknob.
he also looked down to notice you were wearing an incredibly sheer nightgown. his ears felt hot as his cheeks tinted a bright pink.
you didnât seem to notice this as you shuffled back to your pillow filled, fluffed up bed. benedict composed up a smile and lifted his supplies, âi wanted to cheer you up.â
you managed a small smile, âhow could it be that i married the wrong bridgerton boy..â it wasnât a question for benedict to answer, more like a pondering question, but nevertheless benedict answered.
âsame as how the greatest create. it happens, and sometimes those things can bring even brighter gifts.â benedict whispered, and you warmed up a smile. you patted the mattress next to you, and benedict took up a spot next to you.
he settled in and you yawned, laying your head on his shoulder as he turned to a blank page, âdraw me.â you whispered, never having anyone whoâs drawn you.
benedict smiled, and got to work, drawing you as you were, laying on his shoulder.
it was a fast sketch, not too detailed but once he finished you sucked in a breath, âthatâs how you see me?â
benedict smiled, âyou mean, beautiful as ever?â
you smirked, âi didnât think i actually looked like that..â you took the sketch pad in your hand and admired the work.
âwhat did you think you looked like?â benedict asked and you shrugged, âugly enough for anthony not to want me.â benedict paused and you looked up to him, eyes wide and watery, âis there something wrong with me?â
you stood up and tore your nightgown off, leaving your body bare and open for benedict to take in. he wanted to shield his eyes, he wanted to give you your privacy. it was wrong to gaze upon your supple breasts, take in your thighs and curves. you were his brothers wife.
âis my body not beautiful enough for him that heâd want another?!â your voice raised slightly and benedict snapped out of his daze.
he lowered his eyes, âyouâre beautiful.â he stood up, picking up a blanket from the bed. he walked towards you and set the blanket on your shoulders, âheâs a fucking idiot.â benedict replied.
you sniffled, tears had welled in your anguish bjt you nodded, âdraw me again. all of me.â
benedict knew better than to protest. it wouldnât be wrong, he was an artist and you were his muse. no one would end of finding the drawings anyway, why should he crucify himself when he could make you happy?
âof course, my dove.â he muttered and sat on the bed, as you stepped back and let the blanket hang on your shoulders, your body on display as benedict furiously worked. he got every curve, every point, every rounded circle of your body. you were endlessly beautiful, your body was something heâd stay up nights imagining and you were so close to him, so close he wanted to touch you, kiss you, stick his head between your thighs and more.
but he hesitated, but your small smile after he presented the drawing was enough to send him reeling.
you walked to the bed and looked at benedict proudly. you grabbed his hand, the one that had been his drawing hand, with pencil marks on his fingers, you dragged it up onto your bare hip, the marks getting all over you. benedict hitched a breath as tou moaned slightly at the touch. benedict followed your lead as you led his hand to your abdomen, and up to the planes of your breasts. benedict couldnât do it anymore, he lost himself in you, you were all he thought about, the only thing that flooded his mind.
âplease.â you begged as his hand neared your throat. benedict stifled a groan as he lifted you easily, putting your bare fund, dripping wet, over his onto his lap. his cock was unbearably hard in his trousers, and he wanted nothing more than to fuck you senseless, but this was an opportunity to show you how true bridgerton men should fuck.
he kissed your breasts, each nipple finding a tug between his teeth. you moaned out as your hand wrapped around his neck, the other pulling at his hair. benedict was bracing himself on you, hands glued to your waist.
âfuck.â he muttered and he let his hand move down to your cunt, and you gasped as he touched your clit, fiddling around with it, you clutched onto him, his shirt fabric twisting under your touch. you wanted to cry out, but you had nearly forgotten who you were with, and who you were around.
âyouâre so beautiful.â he spoke, his voice seemed to quiver with the pressure of you on top of him. he wanted nothing more than to live in your folds, breathe you in and hold you close to him forever.
âkiss me, ben.â his lips teased yours, and benedict did as you asked, taking your lips into his and moving your mouths in sync. you whimpered slightly and he smiled to himself. your hand moved down to fiddle with his trousers but benedict held a hand down, âitâs harder than it looks.â and he unbuckled his trousers himself, cock springing out.
you chewed on your lip as the realization of what you were doing was sinking in. benedict seemed to feel your hesitation and he set a understanding expression, âiâd understand if you donât want to.â
you shook your head, âi do. itâs just, itâs been a long time.â you admitted and benedict smiled, âreally?â he hadnât even expected anything close to that answer but you forced your head to nod, god your mouth felt like cotton balls. you laughed, âitâs slightly embarrassing but anthony and i had stopped just a few months after we got married. i guess, i shouldnât have been surprised that he has a mistress.â
benedict shook his head, hand trailing down your arm, a touch that radiated more than just the sexual energy you were giving. âlet me show you how much you deserved to be loved..â
benedict held onto you as he nudged you off his lap and onto your back on the bed. he smiled when you held in a squeal, kissing you before he shoved his cock in. you held onto his forearm as he did so and benedict hissed at the friction. he felt amazingly good, and you cried out as he moved suddenly.
benedict groaned lightly, his head falling deep into your shoulder as he thrusted. you whimpered, the pressure of his cock inside you was enough to begin building your orgasm.
âfuck-â you gritted as he fucked you, and benedict panted slightly, âcum for me, dove, please.â his tone at the end, that whimper of a word was enough to throw you off the edge. you practically screamed, pleasure filling your body as you convulsed, and benedict fucked you through it. he came in your cunt, cum coating your insides as you shivered, coming down from the orgasmic high.
as if he had a queue card, anthony threw the doors open and his face was an expression of pure rage, âwhat in the absolute fuck is going on here?â
In attempts to show you some love, kaz reverts to the most boyish and juvenile confession he can manage: name calling.
Idiot
Kaz has no idea what heâs doing. This feeling that you give him is bad. Itâs weakness. So he tries to kill by convincing himself that you are nothing. He calls you idiot or imbecile right and left, hoping his brain will understand that youâre of no use to him.
But thatâs not true because he thinks youâre brilliant.
Most commonly he uses it on heists. You save his sorry hide and because the phrase âthank youâ does not exist in his vocabulary he simply says
âTry not to die, idiot! Donât wanna drag your corpse outta here.â
Kaz thinks heâs slick. Hiding his silly little crush like this. Heâs being a jerk and belittling you. No one would glance twice because he was just being classic Dirtyhands.
Wrong
Nina notices first. It reminds her of the young grisha boys who donât know how to flatter a girl so they simply yank on fistfuls of hair or scream obscenities.
She thinks itâs stupidly adorable; making jabs at Kaz that he deflects easily. But she knows. She sees it clear as day.
Pest
Flea is a bit too mean but pest implies enough how irritable you make him. It implies that youâre swarming his thoughts and plaguing his dreams.
âYouâre such a pest!â
Youâre not. Youâre anything but. From your stupid face that makes his heart skip a beat every time he sees you to the stupid things you say the awaken butterflies in his stomach. So irritating. So dumb.
Inej discovers next. She notices how Kaz canât keep his eyes off of you. She notices how his lips twitch every time he calls you a name, like he meant to say something else entirely. She finally picks up on Ninaâs jokes. They whisper to each other when Nina feels his heart beat faster.
Dummy
Heâs got it down bad.
This term is affectionate. Less cruel than idiot. More teasing. Kaz knows that you know that he believes you to be fantastic. Why else would he keep you around? Why keep sending you on jobs? Why keep you right by his side at all times?
âRight here next to me, dummy.â
He doesnât proclaim it so loudly anymore. He doesnât need all of Ketterdam to think heâs parading around a so called idiot crow. Itâs for you and only you.
Which is why the ever observant Wylan Van Eck finds out next. He watches Kaz mumble under his breath when he calls you dummy. It reminds Wylan of how Jesper flirts.
Wylan smiles to himself when he ponders the moments he glimpses. Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, a secret softie.
âDonât want the dummy to get hurt now do we?â
Itâs like a romance novel playing out right before Wylanâs eyes. And while he doesnât make jokes, he chuckles whenever Nina says something witty that makes Kazâs eye twitch.
Darling
The first time Kaz calls you this itâs a complete accident. He was just minding his own business filling out some paperwork and trying to get you out of his head. You come into his office needing to ask him a few questions about the upcoming heist when
BAM!
âWhat do you need, darlinâ?â
You freeze and moments go by as it sinks in. Kaz is horrified. As it dawns on him his ears and cheeks go cherry red. It was so casual. So easy to say.
You blink at each other and you smile.
âCall people that often?â Youâre so bright.
Kaz glowers and lowers his gaze, shaking his head.
âScram.â
He flicks his hand toward the door and picks his pen back up.
âNot until you answer me.â
So bold of you. Kaz takes a deep breath and rocks back in his chair. This is a weakness. He should stamp it out. But one glance your hopeful face and heâs caving.
âOnly you. Now scram, darling!â
This would be when Jesper notices. He overhears Kaz say it just once and thatâs all it takes. Kaz calling someone darling. So sweet and sentimental thereâs no possible way itâs true.
But when Jesper looks around and Nina and Inej and Wylan giggling and teasing, the pieces fall into place.
Oh
Oh itâs so cute
So fueling to Jesperâs teasing.
Jesper likes to push Kaz by flirting with you. He just wants to watch Kaz marinate in his childish anger and fess up about whatâs going on. The only person who doesnât know is Matthias if Nina hasnât spoiled it.
Angel
Oh how the hearts swoon. Kaz finally weak in both knees. This name is used whenever youâre about to do something dangerous or during reunions.
Kaz canât clutch you in his arms like wants to. Canât kiss you and drown you in affection like he craves. So he poops it all into one little word and hopes you get it.
âBe safe my angel.â Or âGlad youâre alive, angel.â
He used it pretty sparingly. Thereâs not many moments where youâre apart anymore so itâs a rare word.
Itâs almost a little to cheesy and cliche for him but he uses it regardless because he likes to see you beam.
This is when the team recognizes it as a whole. Including Matthias who was clueless up until he witnessed it first hand.
Dirtyhands soft in the heart.
Last but certainly not least
Honey
This is code for Kaz wanting a domestic moment. Quiet time in the Slat while he helps you clean up after dinner or iron out his button shirts.
This is most likely when Kaz would show physical affection.
His gloved hands on your hips as he whispers in your ear,
âHoney, I love you.â
He only says it when he knows no one will hear. It is only for your ears. Only for you to know. Because this word is a dream.
Itâs symbolic of the life Kaz wants to give you. Security. Safety. He wants an honest life with you. One you can be proud of. He really like to marry you and stay with you forever.
He wraps you in his arms, guarded by the sleeves of his shirt.
Itâs hope for the chance at touching without the armor.
He spins you around and kisses your lips. Soft and sweet and slow.
Honey honey honey
Itâs his favorite. No other name could compare. Not idiot, not pest, not dummy, not angel or even darling.
Something about the promise of a future warms him and suddenly his weakness doesnât seem so bad any longer.
Summary: All the girls want him. One does not. And he wants her
Word Count: 1551
Warnings: Not really. Aemond being a bit more of book Aemond than show Aemond and being overall annoyed with life
Authorâs note: I dreamt this plot Sunday night and spend the entire day racking my brains to turn it into a fic. Please let me know about any errors, I am still polishing my English. Also this Aemond I am not sure I got the characterization right but I liked how it turned out. And remember I interact from @finiteâincantatem
The ball is being hosted with the purpose of celebrating Aegonâs nameday. What better way to celebrate the anniversary of his birth than being surrounded by fine drinks and lovely ladies, a field full of flower buds for him to pick and spoil? Aemond can barely stand the frivolous pomp and pageantry, the ass kissing lords showering his brother and father in banal pleasantries and praises, as if any one of them paid any heed to such flummery; one too inebriated to care and the other unable to hear anything above his own wheezing.Â
blakekathryn
janainaart
tangentwithtanner
germansingergirl
kaledo-art
