#The one that comes to mind is in 'Now You See Me'

[lalunalando]

High Altitudes - LN4

Pairings: Lando Norris x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+! minors dni! smut, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), needy gf reader, mile high club, cockwarming

Songs: Own My Mind - Maneskin / White Glove - Dove Cameron (bold parts are lyrics used)

It’s been 5 hours into this 22 hour flight, and to say you were bored would be putting it lightly.

With the AusGP and surrounding celebrations over, you Lando and Max were flying back to England with a few of the team on the jet so he could do a factory debrief after another successful podium.

Lando was currently asleep in the seat next to you, worn out from a big week of exploring and most of all the celebrations from the evening before that ran well into the morning hours.

You on the other hand, couldn’t sleep. Lando had started something right before you had to leave thinking it would be funny, but being stuck on a plane for 22 hours now, you wanted to kill him for leaving you so needy.

Every time you tried to close your eyes, images of his hands on you plagued your mind.

The way his facial hair tickled your thighs while he buried his head in your heat.

The way he looked down at you half-lidded with pouty lips parted while you were on your knees for him.

You couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together hoping to relieve even a little pressure.

Lando woke up to you squirming around in your seat, reaching a hand over to grab your thigh and make you stop.

“Babe, are you okay? You’re being real wiggly right now.” He says through a yawn.

“Uh, yeah sorry, just um feeling a little cold i guess” you respond, looking away from him as to not show him the blush across your face that was red enough to rival Ferrari.

Tapping your thigh to get your attention back on him, he has to hold back a laugh hearing the high pitch of your voice, knowing exactly what was going on.

“Princess, you should have told me sooner, come here” he says softly, as he lifts the blanket that’s laid over him for you to join him on his seat.

You thought for a second, knowing you wanted to be close to him but also knowing you wouldn’t cope being that close to him.

Seeing the way he looked at you with sweet puppy dog eyes as he laid on his side, you realized he really did just want to help, so against your better judgements you got up and wiggled into the space beside him, getting cozy under the nice warm blanket as his arm wrapped around your waist from behind.

Feeling him pressed against you wasn’t doing anything to help the ache building between your legs, but at least it was cozy enough now that you could try and get at least a few hours sleep to distract your mind.

Or at least you thought that would be the case.

Just as you started to feel yourself drifting off, Lando starts sliding his hand from your waist down to your heat, bringing you back to full alertness.

“Lan, wh-what are you doing?” You say, trying to hold in a whimper as his fingers trailed up under the dress you’d worn, just trying to be comfortable for the flight.

“Just trying to warm you up darling, you were cold right?” You can hear the smirk in his voice as he buries his face into your neck, leaving little kisses in his wake.

“Lando we can’t, max is right across the table” you whine quietly as his fingers trail up and down the wet patch that has well and truly formed on your panties.

“Max is asleep, don’t you want to know what the good, good, bad things all feel like?” He whispers, sending another chill down your spine as he starts moving your panties to the side and circling your clit slowly.

“Can you be quiet baby? We can only keep going if you stay quiet, don’t want anyone waking up to see you like this do we?” He says as he leaves another kiss right below your ear, making you bite your lip to stay quiet as you nod in agreement

As he continues his torment with one hand, he quietly releases himself from the confines of his sweatpants with the other, giving himself a few strokes.

“How about you keep this warm for me princess, think you can do that?” He asks as he parts yours legs slightly, hooking one over his own to give himself more space, as he runs his tip through your folds a few times before poking his tip at your entrance.

All you can do is whimper and nod as he pushes in slowly, so slow it’s making you lose your mind.

After a few minutes of stillness, him just resting inside, you feel like you’re going to go crazy.

“Lan can you please move? Need to feel you already”

“Nuh uh baby, you’re just supposed to be keeping it warm for me. Thought we couldn’t do this with everyone around, what if max wakes up” he teases, using your own words against you.

“You might be the answer to the sinner in me” you quietly groan as you lean your head back against him.

It takes Lando all of his self control to not wake the entire plain up with a loud groan after hearing that, knowing he can’t keep the teasing much longer.

“Meet me in the bathroom in 5 minutes” he demands before pulling out, making you whimper at the loss of contact as he readjusts himself in his sweatpants, before getting up and heading to the small plane bathroom.

This was it. You were going to join the infamous mile high club today you guess.

After what you assume to be 5 minutes, you quietly get up and head to the bathroom, hoping no one wakes up.

You knock as lightly as you can on the door to alert Lando that you were there, and within seconds you were being pulled into the bathroom with him and pushed back against the door the moment it was locked behind you.

Lando wasted no time, biting at your neck as he pushed his bulge into you, making sure you knew how painfully hard he was for you.

“Excited to join the mile high club baby?” He smirks before finally kissing you properly, hands still wandering up your thighs to your ass, tapping lightly on your ass to tell you to jump and wrap your legs around him.

You use this moment to mess with him a little, as payback for his earlier teasing.

“Who said i haven’t done this before?” You ask as you pull back and tilt your head at him, a smirk on your lips

“Well then angel, gonna make you swallow all that pride, take you up to higher heights” he growls before putting you back down on the ground, turning you around and pushing you to bend over the sink.

You don’t have a moment to think as he pushes your skirt up over your ass and smacks it hard, making such a noise you’re sure anyone awake outside would have heard it.

Before you can scold him, he’s pushing his sweatpants down to free himself again and pushing your panties to the side, lining himself up with your entrance before pushing himself in roughly, giving you no time to adjust.

You bite your lip to contain your moan, biting so hard it draws blood.

“You know I’ve just gotta have it baby, can’t help myself being rough when you take me so fucking well” he growls in your ear, snapping his hips into yours so rough your sure the sink in front of you is going to bruise your own hips that are hitting it in the process

You’re a whimpering mess in front of him as he pulls your hair and makes you watch yourself taking him in the reflection of the mirror.

“Look how much of a slut you are, taking every inch of me in a plane bathroom while our friends are outside all because you were too needy and desperate to wait until we got home”

”I couldn’t help it lan, need you so bad all the time” you’re a panting mess at this point, fueled by the feeling of your own arousal sliding down your legs as he continues his relentless punishment on you.

“God you’re such a good girl for me always, you own my mind” he says as he locks eyes with your own in the mirrors reflection

It doesn’t take long before his thrusts get sloppy, signaling he’s not far off finishing.

“Please Lan, need to cum, need to be full of you” you pant out, your own high teetering on the edge.

He slides the hand, that’s currently gripping your hip with such force your sure there will be bruises of his entire fingerprint on it, around to your clit and rubs tight circles with the rough pads of his pointer and middle finger, completely making you come undone.

Feeling you tighten around him, he’s quick to release your hair and cover your mouth to muffle the moans spilling out of your mouth as he bites on your shoulder to muffle his own, spilling himself into you as you pulse around his cock.

After a few minutes of regaining your breath, he’s slipping out of you and making you whine as his cum seeps out after him. Suddenly he’s shocking you and your over sensitive parts once again as he pushed his cum back into you with two fingers and then places your panties back into place, patting your pussy as if to say “good job”, before sliding your dress back down over you.

You give yourselves a few minutes to regain composure, Lando helping you fix your hair he’s knotted up with his fist but unable to help you stop looking so blissfully fucked out and flushed, before you get ready to slip out hopefully without anyone noticing you’ve both been missing for so long.

As you open the door while looking at Lando and giggling, you turn around to the cocky face of Max Fewtrell, arms crossed in amusement.

“Took you both long enough, I’ve had to piss for 20 minutes now” he says with a smirk, holding back laughter as he watched you turn paler than a ghost in horror that you we’re caught.

“I won’t tell anyone, if you both move the fuck out of the way before i piss myself” he suddenly gets serious, pushing you both out of the way and locking the door behind him.

Lando just laughs as he leads you back to your seats, pulling you down to squish back into his one and cover you both with the blanket again before cuddling up to you.

“Think you can get some sleep now pretty girl?” He asks as he places a kiss to your temple

“yeah i think I’m warm enough now” you respond with a smile, making him let out a chuckle into your hair

Max returns and sits across from you both, making a face of disgust before breaking character and laughing, making you and Lando laugh with him.

“Well, welcome to the mile high club lovebirds”

[daycourtofficial]

In his sheets

Pairing: Azriel x reader | WC: 1.9k | warnings: brief sexual language

Summary: Azriel is quite smitten with you, a fact he doesn’t want to confront until he overhears an intimate moment between you and his brother

Azriel strolled through the House of Wind, the chill of the halls raising the hair on his arms. He had several plans for the day - the biggest one was to search for Solstice gifts. He went over the list of gifts in his mind, half of his family’s gifts accounted for. He had already gotten gifts for Rhys and Feyre, he had picked up nail jewels for Mor, and something for Amren that the sketchy fae who sold it to him had warned ‘not to look at directly’. But he had yet to pick up gifts for you and Cassian. 

There were still a few weeks before Solstice, but if Azriel didn’t have his gifts ready at least three weeks in advance, it made him spiral with nerves and anxiety, causing him to bring gifts of lesser quality. 

And Azriel hated losing at anything, even gift giving.

The only ones left to buy for were you and Cassian. He could stroll the streets and vendors of Velaris this afternoon, finding the perfect gifts for you and Cassian before dinner. 

The two of you had plans to meet for dinner out in Velaris - you insisting Azriel had to try this new restaurant with you, and Azriel taking any chance he could to bask in your warmth.

His long legs carried him through the halls, halting when he heard your sweet voice through a doorway. He paused outside of your room, the sound of delicious moans coming from your mouth. 

He felt his pants tighten, his shadows start pawing beneath the door, wanting desperately to take a peak. o, Azriel wouldn’t violate your privacy like that. He yanked the shadows back, watching them pull as if they were on a lead. No, he’d stand outside your room just listening to you touch yourself.

Because that was better. 

He shook his head, shaking the arousing pictures from his head, the hope that maybe you were thinking of him. He picked up one of his feet, not wanting to leave but not wanting to get caught listening when your voice came through the door, the words from your mouth like a bucket of water over his body.

“Mmm, Cassian.”

He stopped, his brother’s chuckle coming from under the door as well. His foot hovered in the air, his body unable to move. Had he gotten things wrong again? Had he put too much stock into the small touches, the lingering gazes, how the two of you seemed to linger after everyone else had departed?

How had he gotten this wrong again?

He continued down the hallway, his shadows swirling and bouncing off the walls as his thoughts raced, trying to figure out where he had gotten it wrong once more.

He headed toward his room, his plans for the day changing immediately to include wallowing in his chambers.

Alone.

Just like he always found himself.

-

A knock at his door interrupted his thoughts, your voice coming through the door instead of the lingering remnants of your sighs in his mind.

“It’s me.”

Of course you would come check on him. He had one of his shadows leave a note for you that he couldn’t make it to dinner. He should have told you he was out working, but he hated lying to you. The thought of it churned his stomach, which was why he decided to tell you he wasn’t feeling well, which wasn’t technically a lie anymore.

He opened the door, stepping to the side to allow you in. You entered his room, carrying a tray with a water pitcher, a couple of glasses, and a bowl of soup he could see steam rising off of.

The sight made him close his eyes, his heart beating around his chest, unable to calm down. You were so impossibly sweet, even when you were breaking his heart. A small part of him wanted to play pretend - to lay in the warmth of your gaze and affection, make a home in your attention, forgetting all about what he heard this morning.

That wasn’t possible now, and it wasn’t possible this morning, Azriel having forgone his shopping plans, opting to stay in his room, listening to your moans over and over.

Your concerned eyes pulled him from his trance, a shadow whispering your moans from earlier into his ear.

Right.  The Cassian of it all.

He sighed, watching you drop the tray off at his desk before pouring him a glass of water, the condensation from the carafe dripping onto the floor. 

“You didn’t have to do this.”

“You’re not feeling well - you never cancel plans. I knew you had to be knocking at the Mother’s door if you were cancelling on me.”

Had he always been that obvious? Had you and Cassian thought his affections a mere joke?

“Well, uh thank you I-”

His words were cut off as your hand reached his forehead, your tongue sticking out as you stood on the tops of your toes to reach.

“No fever, but you feel a bit clammy. What were your symptoms?”

“Really, sweetheart, you don’t have to-”

The nickname fell from his lips naturally, and he stopped speaking at the realization of what he had done.

“When did they start? Have you been eating? Drinking? Here.”

You pushed the cold water glass into his hands, and he accepted it, taking a sip from it.

“Good, good.” You muttered, pouring yourself a glass.

You were being so sweet, so nice to him, and all he wanted was to curl back into his bed and wallow in self-pity. One of his shadows hit him in the head to get him to focus back on you.

He can’t live in this misery anymore. He has to just get it out there that he knows, then he can move on, fall for another unattainable female.

Again. 

“I’m happy for you. And for.. Cassian.”

There. He did it while rubbing the back of his head, trying to soothe the spot the shadow hit. He said the hard part out loud, but your quirked brow did little to soothe the ache in his chest. 

“What did we do?”

His mouth dried, unwilling to explain this even further to you.

“On account of your uh relationship with Cassian?”

You spit out your drink unceremoniously, water covering your front. You start coughing while Azriel grabs a rag for you and you dabbed at your shirt as you asked, “what relationship with Cassian?”

Azriel tries not to scream as he has to choke out, “ya know - you two are together in some capacity?”

You laugh, a big uproarious laugh that nearly knocks him off his feet. What was going on? Surely the two of you had been sneaking around in some capacity. Why were you so amused by the fact that he knew?

“I’m not seeing Cass. I’m not seeing anyone - especially not Cassian!”

He stills, his brain working overtime to connect pieces that aren’t there.

“But you- I heard you earlier..”

His voice trailed off, the tips of his ears heating pink. 

“You heard me what?”

He looked at you incredulously, unable to believe you were going to make him spell it out. He could feel the blush creeping across his cheeks and nose as he said, “I could hear you and Cassian… ya know…”

Your eyes were wide with bewilderment, still not grasping what he wasn’t saying.

“I know…?”

He huffed, “I heard you moaning Cassian’s name earlier.”

It was your turn to be flustered and red, spluttering at being caught. The spymaster part of Azriel wanted to hum in delight, having caught the perpetrator in a lie. But the romantic side, the part of him that was deeply in love with you just wanted to shrivel up and blow away in the wind knowing his brother has gotten to be with yet another female his heart soared for.

“Um,” you stutter, and Azriel would find you so endearing if you weren’t blushing over Cassian’s hands all over you.

Azriel shook his head, trying to remove the unwanted thoughts and pictures once more.

“Cassian uh.. We were training earlier, and Cassian,” he filled in the gaps of your story as you paused, wanting to stop you from explaining in detail how his brother got his grubby hands on you, “Cass and I were sparring, and his practice sword hit me pretty hard in the back.”

Oh god, you were using euphemisms for his brother’s cock.

“It caused my back to spasm pretty bad. Cass felt terrible, so he carried me to my room and gave me a massage.”

Cauldron, just stop with euphemisms.

“So are you two a thing now?”

“A thing?”

“Yeah, you two fucked because of training.”

How stupid did you think he was?

“Az, I think you’re confused. Cassian massaged my back. I have a massive bruise from where he walloped me.”

You turn, pulling up the back of your shirt to show him. Aziel practically short circuited at the sight of the bruise on your back. It was massive, and he could make out the clear outline a sword hilt.

He felt his stomach bubble in anger at his brother, but for a different reason. How could he be so rough with you? How could he be so careless with you. His thoughts whirled before he stilled at the expression on your face.

“Were you… jealous, Az?”

“No.”

It came out quick and clipped, and one of his shadows hit the side of his head in annoyance. You stepped forward, your body only a few inches from his own.

“So it wouldn’t bother you if I went on a date with Cassian?”

His fingers formed a first, and he exhaled slowly, “no, it wouldn’t bother me in the slightest.”

“What if I went on a date with his brother?”

“Rhys is-”

He stopped, looking down at you, taking in your words.

“A date? With Cassian’s brother?”

You take your lip between your teeth as you look up at him, and he desperately wants to take your lip between his own, pulling you into his arms, He doesn’t. Instead, he listens as you say, “I heard he wasn’t feeling well, but maybe when he’s feeling better we could get dinner.. Maybe walk along the Sidra..”

He raised his eyebrows as you pressed your body closer to his. “The latest report I received said he was feeling better.”

He wanted to run his hands across your forehead as your brows quirk, “any reports about his availability tonight?”

You were bouncing on your feet before him, and if he didn’t find you adorable enough, the action would have made his heart soar with endearment. He hummed, enjoying watching your palpable excitement over him. “My reports say he’s available around seven.”

You peer at the clock in his room, the minute hand showing it was only a few moments until seven.

“I’ll be there to pick him up at seven.”

He watched you pull away, his body already missing your warmth, stepping outside his door. He waited, standing in the same spot, unable to move like a lovesick fool until the clock in his room chimed seven times, the last chime immediately followed by a quick knocking at his door. He opened the door to find you standing there, a small bouquet in your hand. He had no idea how you procured it in such a short amount of time, but your big grin made him stop thinking entirely. 

“Hi, I think we have a date tonight?”

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @berryzxx @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader @milswrites

Azriel taglist: @brieflyclassymortal @thisiskaylin @magicstrengthandcourage

Thanks for reading ❣️

[pucksandpower]

Break In, Breakdown

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: when a break in destroys your peace of mind, Charles is determined to do all he can to help you regain it

Warnings: armed forcible entry

You wake with a start, your heart pounding. The sound of shattering glass echoes through the spacious apartment.

You sit up slowly, straining to hear any other noises over the hammering of your pulse. Charles is away for the night, called suddenly to Maranello earlier to test new upgrades.

You’re alone.

Sliding out from beneath the covers, you tiptoe to the bedroom door and ease it open. The living room is cast in shadow, shards of moonlight slicing through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Broken glass glitters across the hardwood. A cool breeze drifts in through the now empty pane.

You freeze, listening. The only sound is the thudding of your heart. Whoever broke in must still be here. You consider your options. The front door is on the other side of the living room — you would never make it. The balcony? No, you’re too high up.

That leaves only one choice. The bathroom.

As soundlessly as you can, you close the bedroom door and lock it, then dash on trembling legs into the en-suite bathroom. You lock this door too, then scramble for your phone. Your hands are slick with cold sweat as you dial Charles’ number.

“Hello?” His voice, groggy with sleep, comes over the line. In the background, you hear the muffled sounds of his hotel room.

“Charles!” You whisper urgently. “Someone broke into the apartment!”

“What?” All traces of sleepiness vanish from his tone. Fabric rustles as he sits up quickly. “Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I’m locked in the bathroom. I heard glass breaking and got scared. I didn’t know what else to do!” Your voice cracks as you struggle to keep it low. Tears blur your vision.

“Shh shh, it’s okay. You did the right thing.” Charles soothes. “Did you see anyone?”

You hug your knees to your chest. “No, the living room was empty when I looked. But they have to still be here!”

A tense silence. Then rapid French. You imagine Charles running a hand through his tousled hair, brow creased in thought.

“The police are on their way,” he says finally. “They’ll be there soon. Just stay hidden and keep talking to me, alright?”

You nod before remembering he can’t see you. “Okay.”

For a few moments, the only sounds are your shaky breathing and the muffled noises of Charles moving around his hotel room. You flinch as a loud bang echoes through the apartment, followed by heavy footsteps. Whoever broke in is still here, and on the move.

“I heard something,” you whisper to Charles. “I think they’re looking for me.”

“It’s going to be okay.” Charles’ voice remains steady, but you hear the undercurrent of fear. “Help is coming. Just stay quiet and-”

He cuts off as the bathroom doorknob rattles violently. You slap a hand over your mouth to hold in a scream.

“Y/N? What was that?” Charles demands.

“They’re trying to get in!” You whimper. “The doorknob ...”

Another bang shakes the door. You scramble into the empty bathtub, trying to make yourself smaller. If they get in here, you have nowhere to go.

“Y/N, listen to me.” Charles speaks urgently. “I need you to stay calm. Breathe. The police will be there any minute.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, tears leaking down your cheeks. “Okay,” you whisper.

The intruder hammers on the door again. Wood splinters — it won’t hold much longer. You think of Charles’ smile, his bright green eyes. You wish more than anything he was here with you now, holding you in his strong arms. But he’s hours away, and can do nothing but listen helplessly as danger looms.

“Charles?” You say softly.

“Yes? I’m right here.” His voice cracks.

“I love you.” You put as much feeling into the words as you can. Just in case they’re your last. “So much.”

“Oh god, Y/N ...” Charles trails off. You hear a muffled sob. “I love you too. More than you can imagine. You mean everything to me.”

The bathroom door splinters open. A masked figure looms in the doorway, gun glinting dully in their hand. Your scream lodges in your throat.

Charles is saying your name, voice panicked. You can’t find the air to respond. This is it. You close your eyes as the intruder raises their gun.

A deafening bang. Your scream. Then … nothing.

When you force your eyes open, the intruder is being detained on the floor. In their place stand two police officers, weapons drawn.

“Madame, are you hurt?” One officer approaches slowly, holstering his gun.

You shake your head mutely. On the phone, Charles is frantically calling your name.

“I’m okay,” you gasp out. “The police are here.”

Charles’ ragged exhale echoes your own shaking breath. You cling to the phone like a lifeline. He murmurs reassuring words as the officers help you from the tub and wrap a blanket around your shoulders.

When you finally end the call, your hands shake so badly you nearly drop the phone. You wish desperately to feel his arms around you.

But the police insist no one can enter until the scene is processed. You wait alone on the sofa, raw fear seeping from your bones and leaving you limp and exhausted. As dawn lightens the shattered window frames, Charles’ car screeches into the street. He’s still in a rumpled t-shirt and pajama pants, hair wild from raking his fingers through it. The moment his gaze lands on you, he’s across the room, gathering you against his chest. You cling to him, finally letting the terrified tears fall.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe now,” he murmurs against your hair.

You breathe him in, the familiar smell of his skin and cologne. Here, wrapped in his embrace, you can almost believe the words are true.

***

Morning light filters through the blinds of Charles’ childhood bedroom, casting stripes across the quilt tucked around you.

It’s strange, being surrounded by remnants of his boyhood. Posters of racing legends. Miniature models of the Ferrari Enzo and Michael Schumacher’s F2002. A framed picture of a beaming preteen Charles standing in front of a gleaming kart. You trail your eyes over the silver trophies lining the shelves. Hard to believe that bright-eyed boy would become your own champion one day.

It seems easier to focus on the distant past than to think about the present.

You’ve barely slept, your body tense as a livewire beneath the covers. Every small noise makes you flinch.

Charles’ arms tighten around you. His chest rises and falls steadily with sleep against your back. Being here, wrapped securely in his embrace, is the only thing that kept hysteria at bay through the long night.

You shift carefully in his arms, turning to study his face. His features are relaxed, lips parted slightly. Dark stubble shadows his jaw. He looks younger like this, the crease between his brows smoothed away. You reach out to brush an unruly lock of hair off his forehead.

At your touch, his brows pinch. Slowly his eyes drift open, blinking against the sunlight. He offers a drowsy smile.

“Hi,” he murmurs.

“Hi.” You try to return the smile, but it wavers. Being awake again means facing the suffocating weight of remembered fear.

Charles’ own smile fades. Propping himself up on one elbow, he reaches to cradle your face in his palm. “How are you feeling?”

You open your mouth to respond, but your throat closes up. You just shake your head, feeling the sting of tears.

“Oh, mon amour.” Charles pulls you against his chest. You cling to him, fighting back sobs.

He begins to slowly stroke your hair. “It’s okay. Let it out.”

You do, great heaving sobs muffled in his t-shirt. He holds you silently, lips moving against your hair in a continuous litany of comfort.

When the storm of weeping passes, you keep your head tucked beneath his chin. His steady heartbeat thumps against your cheek.

“I’m scared,” you whisper finally.

His arms tighten around you. “I know. But I promise, you’re safe here. No one can hurt you.”

You nod against his chest. But the truth haunts you — nowhere feels safe anymore. Not when someone invaded the place you called home. Violated your very sense of security.

Sensing your spiraling thoughts, Charles pulls back. He tilts your chin up until your tearful gaze meets his.

“Listen to me. I will do whatever it takes to make sure you feel safe again. We’ll find a new apartment, one with top of the line security. I’ll hire personal protection to be with you whenever I can’t. Whatever you need, just say the word.”

You search his eyes, finding only earnestness and love shining back. “You’d really do all that for me?”

He brushes his thumb over your cheekbone. “Of course. I’d move heaven and earth for you. Your safety and peace of mind are the most important things in the world to me.”

Fresh tears well in your eyes, but this time touched by gratitude. You lean in to brush a soft kiss over his lips. “Thank you. Just … thank you.”

He smiles tenderly, kissing the tip of your nose. “Always.”

The bedroom door creaks open slowly. Charles’ mother peers in.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” She bustles into the room bearing a heavily laden breakfast tray. “I’ve brought up some breakfast. You both must be famished.”

She settles the tray over your laps before perching on the edge of the bed. Reaching out, she pats your blanket-covered knee.

“How are you holding up, dear?” Her eyes, so like your husband’s, are full of maternal concern.

You muster a shaky smile. “As well as I can be. Thank you again for letting us stay here.”

“Of course, of course!” She waves a hand. “You’re family. Mi casa es su casa, as they say.”

Charles reaches for your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze as he smiles gratefully at his mother. “We really appreciate it, Maman. This means the world to us right now.”

Pascale pats his cheek fondly. “I’m always here if you need me. Both of you.” She stands. “Now, eat up while it’s still warm!”

After the door clicks shut behind Pascale, Charles passes you a mug of hot tea. The chamomile soothes your frayed nerves. Under Charles’ attentive care, you manage to eat a few bites of crepe. But your appetite remains muted, stomach churning with anxiety.

Sensing your lingering unease, Charles sets the tray aside. He shifts down on the bed, resting his head on the pillow beside yours. You roll onto your side facing him.

His hand comes up to trail soothingly along your arm. “Talk to me. What can I do?”

You chew your lower lip. “Just hold me? I’m still feeling really shaky.”

“Of course.” He opens his arms and you nestle against his chest. His steady heartbeat thumps beneath your ear.

You cling to him like a life raft, fighting against the rising tide of panic. “I can’t stop imagining it all happening again. What if they find us again?”

Charles frames your face in both hands. His gaze bores fiercely into yours. “Listen to me. I will never let anyone hurt you. Not here, not anywhere. I promise you that.”

His passionate sincerity helps loosen the iron bands constricting your lungs. You can breathe a little easier.

“Okay.” You whisper. “I trust you.”

He presses a fervent kiss to your forehead. “I’ll do whatever it takes to rebuild that sense of safety for you. For now, just try to rest. You’re exhausted.”

He’s right. Bone-deep fatigue drags at you. But every time you close your eyes, visions of leering masked faces loom in the darkness. You shrink closer to Charles with a whimper.

“Shh, I’ve got you.” His arms tighten around you. “Focus on me, the sound of my voice. Picture us somewhere you feel totally at peace.”

You press your ear over his heart again, letting its steady rhythm center you. “Tell me about it? The peaceful place.”

“Hmm ...” He strokes your hair thoughtfully. “How about a tropical island? Powder-fine sand, so white it’s nearly blinding. The water so perfectly blue and clear, like colored glass. Gentle waves lapping the shore.”

You can picture it perfectly with the aid of his lyrical descriptions. The sun warming your skin, Charles’ hand clasped in yours as you stroll the beach. A light breeze tossing his hair as his laughter mingles with the cries of seabirds.

“There’s a little cabana right on the water, with an open balcony and gauzy curtains fluttering in the wind ...”

Lulled by Charles’ calming voice, you feel your body slowly relax, sinking into the mattress. He continues spinning vivid visions until you finally drift off. Safe in the circle of his arms, nightmares can’t reach you.

When you wake, sunlight slants through the blinds at a different angle.

Afternoon.

You’re curled on your side, Charles a solid weight against your back. His chin rests atop your head, arms wound protectively around you even in sleep.

You snuggle back into his embrace. For the first time since the break in, you feel a spark of hope. With Charles by your side, you know you’ll get through this. He’ll keep you safe.

***

Keys jangle outside the door of your new apartment. You look up from your book with a smile as Charles steps inside, hiding something behind his back.

“What are you up to?” You ask, marking your page. Ever since you moved, Charles has been full of little surprises to help you feel at home.

He grins, eyes glinting. “I have someone who wants to meet you.” From behind his back he produces a tiny black Doberman puppy with soulful dark eyes. It squirms eagerly in his hands.

You gasp, immediately reaching for the pup. Its pink tongue darts out to lick your fingertips. “You didn’t!”

Charles laughs. “I wanted to get you a guard dog, one specially trained to protect you. She’ll go everywhere with us once she’s fully grown.”

Cradling the puppy to your chest, you nuzzle into her silky fur. Her tail thumps happily against your arm. “Well aren’t you just the sweetest little guard dog ever,” you coo. Looking into her deep brown eyes, one name springs to mind.

“I think I’ll call her Princess Fluffykins.” You grin up at Charles.

He rubs a hand over his mouth to hide a smile. “Princess Fluffykins it is.”

The newly christened Princess Fluffykins snuggles into you with a contented whine. Over the next few weeks she rarely leaves your side. At night she curls up at the foot of the bed, a tiny furry protector. During the day she trots after you from room to room, always alert for any signs of danger.

But none of her vigilance stops her from demanding regular belly rubs or stealing socks to play with. Princess Fluffykins she may be, but she’s still a puppy at heart.

As the weeks pass, she sprouts into a leggy adolescent, all huge paws and awkward angles. But her devotion never wavers. She accompanies you everywhere, even to Charles’ races.

The first time you arrive at a circuit with Princess Fluffykins straining at her leash, you get some strange looks. People eye the muscular dog warily, giving you a wide berth. Princess Fluffykins has matured into an intimidating specimen, despite the sparkly pink collar now circling her thick neck.

Charles just grins, ruffling her perked ears. “I know she looks scary, but I promise she’s a softie,” he assures the dubious Ferrari mechanics. Right on cue, Princess Fluffykins flops to her back, tail wagging furiously until someone gives in and rubs her belly. Charles winks at you. “See?”

When Charles disappears into briefings or practice sessions, Princess Fluffykins patrols tirelessly by your side. She positions herself between you and anyone who approaches, watchful eyes tracking each stranger. But the moment she detects true danger, her demeanor shifts in an instant.

One particularly eventful race weekend, a drunken fan gets belligerent shoving past you for an autograph. Princess Fluffykins is on him in a flash, knocking him back with a deep bellow. He recoils instantly, throwing his hands up and stammering apologies. You cling to Princess Fluffykins’ collar as she nudges you protectively behind her muscular bulk.

“Good girl,” you murmur, stroking her bristling fur until she relaxes. Over Princess Fluffykins’ broad head, you give the chastened fan a polite smile. Message received.

As you make your way to the garage, passerby give you and your four-legged bodyguard a wide berth. But Princess Fluffykins ignores the murmurs, attention fixed devotedly on you. Her responsibilities may be serious, but everything about her remains hilariously contradictory — the bejeweled collar, fluffy fur, even her tendency to doze off using Charles’ race boots as a pillow. You wouldn’t have her any other way.

Over time, Princess Fluffykins becomes as much a fixture at races as Charles himself. On mornings when you’re feeling anxious, you clip on Princess Fluffykins’ leash and walk the familiar route to the paddock, drawing comfort from each heavy footstep echoing your own. The bulk of her pressing against your legs makes you feel sheltered … protected.

When Charles is busy with sponsor events and interviews, Princess Fluffykins is your constant companion. She positions her large frame strategically to keep you shielded from jostling fans in the crowded paddock. Her intimidating presence and rumbling growl are enough to make even boisterous enthusiasts reconsider approaching too closely at the wild after parties.

At night in hotel rooms, Princess Fluffykins curls up on the foot of the bed, ever alert. The sound of her steady breathing soothes you to sleep. And in new cities where sounds and shadows put you on edge, her solid weight pinning your feet beneath the blankets makes you feel anchored.

On bad nights when phantom terrors jerk you awake, Princess Fluffykins’ huge head rises at your distress, the light glinting off her collar. She pads up the bed to nuzzle your cheek until the panic fades.

Over time, Princess Fluffykins’ watchful presence steadies something deep inside you. Late at night, her snores harmonize with Charles’ to drive away the ghosts. Her grinning face waiting eagerly by the door when you return from a quick trip to the shops makes your apartment feel like home again. When you scratch beneath her chin, for a moment you forget about the threat, remembering only softness.

On the anniversary of the break in, emotions run close to the surface. You’re quiet on the drive to the paddock, hands knotted tightly in Princess Fluffykins’ fur. But when the time comes to part ways with Charles for the day, you find courage in Princess Fluffykins’ wiggly butt and lolling tongue. You give Charles an extra fierce hug, breathing him in.

“Love you,” you murmur into his shoulder.

Charles cradles your face in his hands, eyes serious. “I love you too. We’ve made it through so much this past year. You amaze me more every day.”

You lean into him a moment longer before braving a tremulous smile. “Go show them what you’ve got.”

With Princess Fluffykins a steady presence at your side, the day passes in a blur of heat and roaring engines. When at last Charles appears, wreathed in sweat and victory, you leap into his arms with a joyful shout. Laughing, he swings you around before setting you down to ruffle Princess Fluffykins’ ears.

“I think this calls for celebrating, what do you say?” His eyes are bright with triumph and love.

You lean down to adjust Princess Fluffykins’ glittering collar before twining your fingers through your husband’s. “I say absolutely.”

Though the path forward held both beauty and pain, with loyal souls like them by your side, you never had to walk it alone.

[pianta]

angel with bad thoughts 🩵💧 hii guys! ★彡 the kind folks from XPPEn sent me their new Magic Drawing Pad to try out !! here are my thoughts ♡︎

🏞 i love to sit in the park and draw, so i've been taking the Magic Drawing Pad with me when i go out. this tablet is light and portable, ideal for on-the-go use and traveling, whether it's for a quick sketch or professional use. it's so easy to pick this up and start doodling when inspiration hits now. no need to connect to a PC! ✨

🖼 the Magic Drawing Pad feels like it was designed with artists in mind and I love that. tbh i'm an Android girlie and i have been looking for good alternatives for an artist-focused, standalone drawing tablet for years now. I'm so excited to finally see there are more options on the market!

⚙️ set up was a breeze, so easy right out of the box. it even came preinstalled with Medibang and IbisPaint -- i hadn't used those programs before so it was fun to try ! but you can also install CSP or any other apps on it if you prefer~

🖥 the screen has an anti-glare & paper-like surface, so it feels natural to draw on, like it's a sketchbook. plus it's easy on the eyes, even if you're out in the sun. it comes with a glove, pen nibs + a protective case where you can store your pen, so you won't lose it! phew lol

✏️ the 16k pressure levels in the X3 Pro Pencil make for a smooth and precise drawing experience. it doesn't need to be charged, so you don't have to worry about losing power while drawing, making this the ultimate portable tablet experience for me

tl;dr: the XPPen Magic Drawing Pad is an amazing lightweight standalone portable tablet designed with artists in mind, great for on-the-go use! def recommend it if you're an artist looking for a more versatile and portable experience, or alternatives to the ones that are currently on the market

i'm so happy to see more options out there so more people can jump in and start drawing digitally! 💞 if you are interested, you can find more info here: US Store // CA Store ✨

[dollypopup]

but can we talk about the fact that Colin really truly has NO IDEA Penelope loves him? It broke my heart when at the end of the episode, he was there basically going 'If you got caught up in the carriage and you change your mind, I understand' when she left for a while at their engagement ball and constantly said 'I have to tell you something'

like he's of the belief that what she wants to tell him may be that she doesn't reciprocate his feelings and that it's a love match just on his part. he thinks she's settling for him because he's the one who mucked up her chances for a different proposal but he cares for her so much he can't let her go

both of their sexual encounters so far have been Colin giving her pleasure partly to prove that he's worth holding on to, reinforcing his belief that he's only worthwhile if he can provide something. he truly doesn't believe he's loveable just for who he is, but for what he can do. in the carriage, he asked if she accepted Debling's proposal and she said Debling didn't propose at all because of the scene Colin caused, thus eliminating the choices for her. It was him or nothing, basically. Colin said he had feelings for her, but she said she wanted to be more than friends. It makes sense to me that, in part, his motivations in that carriage were threefoldfold: to show her he was serious, to revel in her pleasure, and 'let me prove how nice I can be to have around'. Then in the first time scene, they had sex after he stood up for her to Portia, providing a defense and informing he loves her and that's why he proposed. He complimented Pen, talked about how much he wanted her, and said aloud repeatedly that he loves her, but she tells him that no one else had defended her like he did before, and that she appreciates it. Not that she loves him back. He wants to be intimate with her, of course, but also he wants to prove himself a good candidate for her affection, because he doesn't believe he already has it. 'Don't you want to keep me around? Don't you see how good I can be? The good I can do?'

And it just gives added weight to his 'Then what good am I to you?' because he genuinely, from the bottom of his heart, doesn't know that she loves him for him, but that her agreeing to marry him is conditional on what he can provide for her

for Penelope, her love for him is a constant, like her heartbeat, something she feels she doesn't have to announce because to her it is so obvious and so strong, but for him, it's not at all obvious, and he knows she wants something more than friendship with him, but does not know that's because she returns his feelings.

I know she's got a lot on her plate right now but Penelope please come tell this man that you love him body and soul, I am crying

[jwsdoll]

kiss it better.

synopsis: tummy kisses on your period pairing: bf! nishimura riki x gf! f! reader warnings: period mentions, stomach mention, kisses on the stomach, fluff sav notes: on my period and this is so cute + 4 my baby @copyhanni my fav riki girl >< wc: > 500 DOLLHOUSE…

if you enjoyed, please REBLOG !

it has been 4 months since you and your new boyfriend riki have been together. there were still some things you were getting used to, one being his eagerness to see you, and take you on multiple dates. you loved his attention, and you always promised no matter what, you’d never keep a secret from him.

you were at his house one day, laying on his bed as he played video games on his PC. this was normal, and one of your favorite ways to spend time together. this week was different, you were on your period and slightly more quiet than you normally were. riki didn’t know.

you were afraid to even mention your period to him. this you felt a horrid pain in your lower stomach, leaving you lay there uncomfortably. you tried to get comfortable, but the pain kept returning, leaving you groaning under your breath in pain.

“everything alright baby? he looks back, only to see you holding your stomach. riki gets up from his desk, rushing towards the edge of the bed.

you tried to cover up the pain, pretending it was nothing. “i’m okay ki..” your hands made it back to your stomach, holding it once more.

riki wasn’t buying that answer. he removed your hand from your stomach, replacing it with his own hand, rubbing your stomach gently. “come on baby, tell me what’s wrong..” he asks one more time, hoping for the truth.

you sighed heavily, still afraid of telling him what was really going on, but then again, riki was your boyfriend. riki wasn’t going to judge you no matter what, even if you were still early in the relationship.

“i’m on my period.. and right now, my cramps are awful.” you truthfully told him, a small smile piercing onto his face, due to having the courage to tell him what was going on with your body.

“baby..why didn’t you tell me before? let me get you some painkillers.” he gets up from the edge of the bed, heading to his bathroom to grab the bottle of painkillers. riki comes back with a bottle of painkillers and a small glass of water. “here babe, take one.” he suggest, you take a tablet from the bottle and swallow it done with some water.

“feeling any better?” riki looks at you, hoping the tablets gave you some sort of relief. “a bit.” you respond, still feeling the cramping sensation in your stomach. riki tries to think of any other way he can help.

riki starts by rubbing your stomach, his hand goes beneath your shirt, rubbing your stomach gently. his warm hand felt quite similar to a heating pad, giving you a bit more relief. it wasn’t enough relief, the pain was still on your mind and still bothering you.

that’s when riki has an idea.

riki sits back up, he lifts the bottom of your shirt up, revealing your achy stomach. he places his lips gently against onto the skin. you giggle at the touch of his lips on your stomach. once riki notices your giggle, he continues to gently place kisses along your stomach.

“there’s my girl..giggling like her normal self.” he smiles, giving your stomach a tiny squeeze. you smiled, his lips going back to your stomach to kiss it even more. this frequent kisses made you giggle, your giggles were like music to his ears.

his lip returns to your upper stomach “that’s for not telling me about your period.” he murmurs against your stomach, before pressing a kiss on it. “and this..” he lifts his lips from your skin “this is for not telling me about your cramps.” he presses his lips once more onto your skin.

riki stops kissing your skin, that’s before he lays next to you, spooning you. “baby, you promise you’ll tell me when you’re on your period?” he asked, hoping you’ll be honest when this time rolls around again.

“i promise ki, i promise i’ll tell you.” you smile, feeling his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

he murmurs sweet nothings to you, as he kissed the back of your head. “now rest my love. you need it.” his sweet words gave you a sense of peace, a sense of relief. his words make you forget about the cramping sensation. you closed your eyes as you felt riki’s hand rub your stomach.

“i love you, my pretty baby..” he whispered.

permanent taglist: @dioll @copyhanni @flwrstqr @cupidhoons @jlheon @en-gelic @jakesangel @kyoaeri @07sleepykatz @lcvclywon @iikeustar @floweryang @sjylouvre @fertilizedtoesw @junislqve @chaewonshoney @rikiscarf @ashtrie @onlyjjong @baevsxii @jakesprincess1 networks: @k/-labels

[benevolentbones]

newcomer | spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: derek being derek.

word count: 0.5k ish

summary: you come to the bau to drop off some things

pls pls pls send any requests you have, im itching to write more but need plot suggestions!!

“who’s that?” quizzed elle.

all eyes were on the new face that stood at the door by the bullpen. you stood there, a binder wrapped tightly in one arm, and a brown paper bag clutched in the other. a black pencil skirt adorned your form complemented with a white button up. you stood there with you hair pushed neatly away from your face, your eyes scanning the room for something.

“i’ve never seen her before- is she new?” jj tilted her head slightly.

“i don’t know but she looks good.” morgan chuckled to himself earning a dig from elle.

“leave her alone she looks like a baby.” elle frowned.

spencer who had his head in a book until now, scanned the room, his hazel gaze fixing on you. there was something familiar about you that he couldn’t quite put a finger on.

“she looks around my age.” reid muttered, joining the rest of the team in studying the newcomer.

“exactly. a baby.” elle smirked at spencer’s defeated expression.

spencer shook his head, earning a pat on the shoulder from derek.

you scanned the room once more, suddenly growing nervous when you spot several sets of eyes on you. you inhaled sharply, shuffling over to the group of profilers in hopes they would direct you to where you needed to go.

“she’s coming-act natural.” morgan practically smacked spencer, quickly sitting up straight from his previous slumped position next to the young genius.

“excuse me- would any of you know where jason gideon’s office is?” you smiled politely, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

your eyes met spencer’s and a light blush dusted over your cheeks.

“just up- up those stairs and to the right.” spencer internally cursed as he stuttered out directions.

“thank you so much.” you gave him another shy smile, nodding to the others before you turned, sauntering away to gideon’s office.

“real smooth, pretty boy.” derek shot spencer a shit eating grin, the older man slinging an arm around the blushing mess that was dr. spencer reid.

a few minutes later, everyone had gotten back to their respective reports, spencer was scribbling away at lightning speed, his interaction with you playing in the back of his mind.

over the low mumbling throughout the bullpen, the door to gideon’s office could be heard shutting. the special agent walking down the steps with you in tow. you were making quiet conversation, the binder and paper bag once in your grasp was gone.

derek leaned over spencer’s desk, all eyes were yet again on you.

you and gideon came to an abrupt stop right by where everyone was congregating.

“thanks again for dropping my lunch, sweetie.” gideon gave you a warm smile before giving you a quick hug which you returned gratefully.

“sweetie?” jj blinked.

“well if i’m too old for her then he certainly is-“ derek was cut off by a stack of case files being dropped onto his desk by none other than aaron hotchner.

“no problem, i’ll see you at home.” you gave gideon another smile before walking away, your eyes meeting spencer’s once more before you left causing his cheeks to burn up.

“that’s his daughter.” hotch scoffed, shaking his head as he walked off.

“daughter?!”

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - warnings: 18+ daddy kink, sexual content, phone sex

"Whit do ye think, LT?"

Simon vaguely hears Johnny's voice. It's somewhere in the background, something he's not dialed into right at this moment, since they're not in an active situation.

For now.

Instead, they're all holed up in safe house with shitty mattresses, shitty couches, and thin walls crowded inside a concrete box. Simon's on his back, on the couch, flicking through his camera roll, picture after picture of you and the baby filling the screen. There are new ones, ones you've sent over the last three weeks, and when he fires off a text to let you know his phone is on for a little bit, you send a video back almost immediately.

"That the wee one?" Johnny says from over his shoulder, and Simon nods, clicking play.

"Okay Ry, let's show daddy," Orion's on his tummy in the living room, holding his head up, staring at you behind the phone. He's giggling a little, smiling, wriggling around, and you place one of his toys just out of his reach, to the left. "You can do it bub, come on. Daddy wants to see." There's more encouragement, Orion rocking back and forth on his belly and kicking his feet-

before rolling over completely onto his back.

"Good job bub! What a strong boy." You pull him into your arms, his back to your chest, legs up over yours, and turn the phone so the video shows both of you. "So, that's a thing." You smile, and kiss his head. "Think we'll have a crawler on our hands soon." Something sad flickers in your gaze and you chase it away. "Anyway, we uh... we miss you. Call tonight?" A knot forms in his throat, and he practically leaps off the couch, making for the back door. Johnny calls after him, but he pays it no mind.

>Can you take a call now?

>You just missed him, I'm so sorry. He's asleep :(

>That's okay. I want to talk to you.

>Okay, sure.

"Hello?" You're not quite whispering, but your voice is still soft, careful, and he closes his eyes.

"Hey."

"Hey. How are you?"

"Fine. Can't believe he's rolling over." You stifle a small laugh.

"I know. He's going to be crawling soon, I can feel it. Keeps trying to push himself up with his arms and scoot his legs forward. It's cute. He looks like a seal." You sigh, and he gets lost in it, honey sweet spiderweb trapping him in the middle, tangling him up for the feast, your fangs already deeply embedded in his flesh.

That's what you are. Something under his skin. Something possessing him down to the marrow. A man who only takes orders from one other-

willing to say 'how high' if you would only say 'jump'.

He hears his promise every day, every night, ringing in his ears.

Johnny thinks he's flipped a switch somewhere. Gaz says he's more bloodthirsty than he's ever seen.

John just smiles at him, a knowing look in his eye, a mutual understanding.

He's going home, no matter what. If he has to kill every single soul he comes across, that's what happens.

He made a promise.

"Hope he waits." He tries to control the rough scrape of his voice, but it's still there.

"I'm sure he will." You're gentle in your reassurance, kind. His kitten.

"How's he doin' otherwise?"

"Good. Fussing has calmed down a bit, thank god, but I think he misses daddy."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you pause, small intake of breath, a barely there gasp. "I miss him too." He takes a cursory look around, and then drops the tone of his voice.

"Y'miss daddy, sweet girl?" The two of you have been dancing around this, for the last week. Since landing at the safe house, he's been able to call almost every night, sometimes he catches Orion when he's up and sometimes he only catches you, and recently, you've been engaging him with sexually charged late night conversations that make him jerk his cock behind a locked door somewhere, and come into his own hand.

Feels like a waste. He wonders if you'd let him get you pregnant again.

He doesn't even know if you can have sex right now, to be honest. He knows you tore, badly. Knows you had stitches. Knows you're probably still nursing the wounds, physically and mentally.

That's okay. He'll wait. He'll wait as long as he needs to. For this. For you.

He doesn't know where the change came from either, but he's not complaining. Or questioning. He's indulging and dreaming and telling you to reach into your pajama pants to touch yourself for him while he's tossing off on the other end of the line.

If he had to guess, he'd say the distance has given you some sort of courage, some sort of emboldenment to feel it out, gain comfortability.

The killing makes him extra rank, fills him with ardor for you, for his life now. He's always felt purpose, devotion, to his job, the 141, but now, there's a higher altar to lay himself at, a higher calling.

Getting a ring on your finger, for one.

"Are you in bed mama?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah? Gonna play with your pussy for me?"

"Oh god." You groan, but it's breathy, wild on the other end of the line, a whole world away.

"Tell daddy what you're doing, honey." He's rock hard, so much it aches, but he's not going to fulfill the burning need right now. He wants to be focused on you. "Are you touching yourself?"

"Y-yes."

"Does it feel nice?" You whine. "Rubbing your pretty little clit f'me, making it feel good?”

"Oh my god- yeah."

"Daddy's so proud of you, sweetheart. Taking such good care of Orion. Taking good care of yourself, making yourself cum since he can't be there to do it for you." You moan, unintelligible, nectarous melody on the wind. "I wish I was there. I think about the night we made our baby all the time, how you looked spread out on your bed, taking all my cum like a good girl."

"Oh, oh-"

"Took my cock so pretty, mama. Did so good, fit me like a glove." You're panting, tiny, bright whines slipping free, and he knows you're close. "Don't stop. Let me hear you." He orders, slipping a palm over the swollen mass of his cock.

"Fuck, daddy-"

"Keep going honey, come on." He can nearly hear your teeth grinding.

"I'm cumming, oh- daddy, I'm, I'm-" There's a shuffle, a high pitched gasp, and then you go silent, breathing heavily into the phone.

"Good job, mama."

He's sour by the end of week four. Muscles tight from the agony of being away, awful visions, nightmares, rotting the frontside of his brain when he closes his eyes.

The balaclava is heavy with blood now, everyday. Red stains white, fetid and curdled, trying to strain through his teeth.

They've moved from the safe house. The phone calls are only a dream. He turns his phone on for five minutes every other day, desperate to download the photos you're sending, only to get one out of the ten. Can't text you back.

At night, he stands outside with his chin tilted up, orientating himself with the skies, searching for Orion in the cosmic chaos. It takes time, too long, but eventually he spots it, south west in the sky, glittering alongside the moon. His stars. His moon.

John tries to temper him. "You'll have to get better at this, if you're planning to stay, Simon. It won't get easier, but you can ease the ache."

It's never been a question about staying, he's served the 141 for far too long to give it up now. The want is incredibly selfish, but he doesn't consider himself the other kind of man, the one who would take a desk job or sacrifice his duty. His life's work, essentially.

He's not a good man. But he's yours. He won't have it any other way.

Kyle's got a girl at home now, he tells Simon. Maybe we should introduce them, ya know LT? Give em someone to lean on, when we're gone. A brilliant idea, if he's ever heard one. Though he's not surprised. Gaz is the top of his class in everything.

He and Johnny speed run through the last part of the op, raining hell down upon everyone in his path, and he finally sees that crazy glint in Soap's eyes, the one that's been missing this entire time.

"Was fun, LT." He slurs the night before exfil, glass of whiskey lax in his hand. "Almost sad to be goin' home."

Not too long ago, he might agree. But now that he's staring down the barrel of five and a half too long weeks, he can't wait for it to be over.

>Hey

>Hey omg, I've been worried.

>All's good. On our way to base now. Gonna shower here, change. Alright if I come over after?

>Yes.

He’s a livewire stepping off the bird. Three paces behind Gaz, he’s trying to type out a text to you, hardly paying attention, spreading his stride to close the gap between him and the showers.

“Hey darling.” Gaz is wrapping someone up in his arms, pretty little thing with dimples, Simon barely glances up-

And then nearly trips over his boots, tongue tied to see you standing behind Kyle’s new girl, sundress swinging at your thighs, Orion babbling away on your hip.

His bag drops.

He sprints.

“Ah!” You shriek as he tugs you into him, lifting you and the baby with an arm under the plush of your ass. “Simon, oh my god-“ you curl forward, free hand gripping his shoulder, and he presses his mouth to yours.

“Missed you mama.” Your top teeth bite into your bottom lip, bashful and sweet. “You too, bub.” You kiss him again, longer this time, ignoring the whooping from Johnny in the background.

“Welcome home.”

[sunshineandspencer]

Jolene

A/N: I’ve managed to get sick and the thing that roused me from my deathbed was hearing Jolene and going ‘yes, this applies to a Hotch fic, my people need me’ if it doesn’t make sense, blame the headache.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Girlfriend!Reader.

Summary: She desperately tries not to think that way about his ex-wife, but seeing them interact hurts way more than she thought it would.

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: established relationship, cutesy nicknames, Haley is alive, barely-negative self-thoughts, angst but a happy ending

be added to the taglist!!

“I can easily understand how you could easily take my man, but he’s the only one for me, Jolene.”

Some part of her knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but she’d powered through it. Aaron had kissed her softly in the kitchen and told her that it would all be alright, slowly moving her to the stairs so that she could get ready.

Smacking her ass and laughing as she yelped, disappearing into their bedroom to get dressed.

They’d been together nearly three years now, only about a month until their third anniversary, and he promised something big - but that’s not important right now.

Jack has a big soccer game this afternoon, his team - little league but still important, as both men swear to her - had made it to whatever the ‘finals’ were. Aaron coaches his team, and as much as she tries to keep up, sports have never been her thing.

Despite this, she attends every single game and cheers no matter what’s happening. Plus, she gets the added bonus of seeing her boyfriend in a loose shirt and shorts, a rare and delicious sight. All the other moms have learnt that Aaron is taken, considering he comes over to kiss her whenever he can.

Honestly, Aaron is perfect. 

Even with his job, she doesn’t mind at all. She’s a photographer, and so she does all her editing work from home, and even when she does need to travel, she does it around his work and Jack’s school times. Occasionally bringing them with her, or just Jack when Aaron is away.

She absolutely loves their little family, and every single moment they spent together, and knew early on that days like this couldn’t be avoided forever.

Of course, she knows that Aaron loves her, he tells her more than enough and he still thinks he’s lacking in that department. But he loves her so desperately that he easily makes her feel seventeen all over again.

So Aaron is not the problem, but she is.

Haley, his ex-wife. The woman divorced Aaron, and moved on a lot quicker than he had, but that’s not the problem, people move at different speeds and she fell out of the marriage a lot sooner than Aaron did. The issue that she has is seeing them together with Jack.

They’re so.. picture perfect. Clearly a family. To the point where it hurts.

Haley is utterly gorgeous, and ageing has only done her wonders. Of course, she knows that she’s also aged pretty well, but not as well as her. 

The woman exists as if the phrase ‘fine wine’ was made just to describe her, and the quiet sting of jealousy hits deep whenever she and Aaron interact. It isn’t very often, thank God, but it still sucks.

The way she still talks to him so casually, as if they were friends who didn’t have an eight year marriage between them, it sets her on edge. It feels like she believes if she wanted she could easily stroll back into Aaron’s life. And why wouldn’t she?

She’s stunning, she’s Jack’s mother, there’s nothing stopping her from taking Aaron all over again.

Except the fact Aaron has reassured her that Haley is nothing to him anymore except the woman who gave him the greatest gift in his life bar his “wonderful girlfriend”, and she believes him. God- it feels so wrong to feel jealous and small when he’s told her that Haley is nothing. It feels like she’s doubting him, and it’s not that she’s trying to, she can’t help it.

How could she, when his ex-wife looks like that?

“Where’ve you gone sweetheart?”

Blinking softly, she looked up from where Jack was excitedly talking to his mom about all the goals he scored - uncaring that half were own-goals.

Aaron had come over to sit next to her, and hesitated from placing his usual peck to her lips when he found her so lost in her own thoughts. Moving to sit next to her and immediately place a hand on her thigh, squeezing softly and pressing his thumb into her flesh by the hem of her dress.

“Nowhere, no I’m- I’m still here.” He gives her a look and she sighs, leaning in to kiss him and grumble unhappily against his lips. “Everyday you make it harder and harder to like profilers.”

Humming, he kissed her a little firmer than usual and she pulled back, looking at him confused. Not that she was complaining, but he usually had a reason.

“She may be his mother, but Jack loves you just as much.”

Her heart seized, hating that he was able to figure her out so easily, but not surprised anymore. Reaching to squeeze his hand where it still rested on her thigh and turning to look at him fully.

“Aaron, I--”

“I mean it dove, we love you. She’s had her time in my life, and that’s over, you are the only one I want for any foreseeable future.”

A bright smile drew up on her face, the one he so loves drawing out because it means that she’s getting over whatever bothered her. 

He’s not stupid, he knows how much that bothered her at the start, and it had calmed down slightly over the years, and she believes him completely. Convincing her brain to believe him, however, had been the most surprising thing to try and overcome. For her, however, he’d reassure her everyday for as long as it takes.

With her hands smoothing up his arms to thread into the hair at the nape of his neck, that little bashful smile overcame her face as she got closer. Pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“Careful there Hotchner, or someone might think you’re proposing to me.”

He huffed out a small laugh and wrapped his arm around her waist and tugged her even closer, kissing her deeply. Not caring that there were other moms watching and awing, or Jack making fake throwing-up noises, even though he really doesn’t mind.

Only pulling back to brush his nose against hers, smiling down at her and watching the way she couldn’t decide which eye of his to focus on.

“Just wait sweet girl, I’m not having you ruin my surprise.”

Want more?! Good!

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[yourplasticlittlespastic]

Ooof, Benedict with a breeding kink? Bestie, thats SO TRUE! If you have more on this, please please please share

Bestie this goes for you nasty <3 - Part of the E̴N̴T̴W̴I̴N̴E̴D̴ Series

To be Here

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x f/reader

Warnings: +18 topics, very explicit imagery stuff

Notes: More of married life! Solid storyline but with nasty stuff too. I am already making a general Maserlist and this story's ML. Thank you for reading! Who is ready to see Benny baby heartbroken bc of Tilly Arnold? Don't worry, Sophie is coming!!

WC: 5.7K

Taglist: @fallout-girl219 @ravenwtfbro @thorins-queen-of-erebor @dollarstore-lydia-deetz @mmmunson

Benedict often thought about how he reached this point in his life. It seemed only yesterday he was a rebel of society's rules, a hedonistic gentleman between the crowd, the funny joke amongst the Bridgertons and the forever seeker of what his siblings were finding.

But now as he took one teaspoon of sugar and dropped it into a tea cup and avoided the milk at all costs he wondered how he got so smitten. He made sure to twirl the spoon with all his energy, he wanted you to drink it and beam at the flavour and as he looked through the window he spotted your curious stroll outside.

Your hair was loose, beautifully curved by the ends and your blue dress with its straight skirt and your short sleeves with a squared neckline made you look so tranquil as he always knew you needed to feel. He snorted however at your insistence; you walked again to the rose bushes and started picking some flowers that fell into a basket by your arm.

He silently stared at your figure as you took more flowers from a corner and then you laid by a blanket spread by the grass and laid the roses over them. You were creating something. The wind was playing with your hair as you moved, Benedict knew that even without a paintbrush he could spend an eternity looking at you.

He saw the way you took the flowers and split the petals, you organized them -by size, he learned- and then you took a small mortar and pestle and started crushing them. His mind went immediately to a few weeks ago, the day when he was painting in his studio and you entered with your smile and giggles telling him you might have dropped some of your pigmented materials in your dress and oh my when he turned... your complete chest was damped in whatever mixture you concocted and the violet water was spreading through your skirt.

He solved it by taking your dress off. It was the most beneficial mistake he could ever think of.

He looked down and "Damn it" the tea grew cold so he took it for himself and made sure to make another one only for you

When he stepped outside he breathed the humid air of Wiltshire and squinted at the sunlight.

“That dim studio of yours is damaging your eyesight” you mumbled not even staring up at him

Benedict smirked and sat in front of you, laying the new tea cup beside you. You were still focused on your flowers but the smell of the chamomile reached your nose.

You looked up and met the clear eyes of the loveliest man on Earth “Hi”

“Hello. Drink now before it gets cold again”

“Again?”

“Never you mind” he gave you the tea cup and waited until you sipped the warm liquid and he felt proud of doing it good for you as you smiled “Good?”

“Yes, thank you”

“What do you get here?”

“Nothing special”

“Tell me”

You shrugged “I never got my hands on any type of cosmetics, and now I want to see if I can do my own”

“Cosmetics?” He smiled seeing your dedication to your cause “You can get cosmetics rather than produce them”

You gave him a stoic face “By now you should know I enjoy mixing things… husband”

Benedict chortled “Forgive me I do know, my alchemist”

“And more with the fact that when I used to go to the Cowpers, me and Cressida took Mrs Cowper’s cosmetics and something smelled bad”

“You mean…?”

“Whatever is in there smelled like lead”

“Oh”

“Or ammonia” you nodded “Should I put it in my face? I believe not”

“I believe not too” he took the mortar and saw the crushed petals “My herbologist wife”

“Shush it” you took it from his hands “How is your paint going?”

“It is” he hummed next and looked at the sky “I wonder who wants a painting of a pond when you have the sky looking like such” Then he turned to see your hair falling to your face and you staring intently at the mixture of petals “or this view as well”

“Hmm?”

“Nothing. Sir Richard will come tomorrow to take a view at the painting”

“Sir Richard is the one whose daughter is getting married to the man with the weird moustache right?”

Benedict nodded “And I have heard something about that weird moustache man”

"Oh please do tell"

Sipping the tea and enchanting words of upper-class London Benedict you could quite put Lady Whistledown out of business. It was after dinner when you two parted ways for the late night. Benedict often despised the new routine he had after getting married. He felt the pressure of working most of the time with airs of copying Anthony's lifestyle. Oh he knew his brother would love the new him of glorious morning and tedious late-night work.

"At least I am not the first-born" he mumbled as he passed the brush over a missed spot by the corner

Yet, he might not be the firstborn but he sure still holds the Bridgerton name. Why on earth does he feel he must work and work? He does have a fair good amount of money to last through his lifetime and his future children's as well.

"Pffff" he groaned and let his hand drop the brush into the easel he looked around his studio and then up to the clock, 10 pm.

Wherever those nights go when he just stood still by the loveseat in front of the vanity and he watched as you performed such a delicate night routine? Wherever those moments of you naturally letting your gown fall over your naked body?

And now as he stepped surely but slowly inside the room, he now was greeted with your sleeping figure wrapped under the blankets but not his arms. He pouted and walked towards the bed, sitting by the edge and seeing the moonlight falling on your hair. He brushed your locks behind your ear and you shifted a little.

He stared for a while and answered his own question. People request painting of ponds and dogs and wars because they haven't met you yet.

By morning you let your open-mouthed of a husband sleep until he could wake on his own terms and you managed to arrange all the necessary things to host dinner for Sir Richard. You scratched your temple for the thousandth time as Mrs Crabtree explained the dinner service and how a proper nibble can be served during the painting exhibition.

The millionth time you have hosted these events and you still do not like them. You smiled however at the help brought by the Crabtrees and took a glance at the painting Benedict left almost done during the night.

And when noon came and you already taken your usual spot by the garden and started writing in your journal while stealing the newspaper that was laid for Benedict’s eyes.

“Please tell me I didn’t miss breakfast again”

You turned to the side and saw Benedict walking out with only a robe and his hair completely dishevelled.

“If I say no would that help?” You smiled and held a glass of fresh juice for him to drink. He gladly took it and drank until the last drop as he sank to the blanket on the grass.

“I just loathe this. I feel like I am waking up after a party”

You shrugged not knowing the feeling he expressed “How was that?”

“Full of unprocessed Brandy through my veins” he mumbled and saw the tea set by your side. A slight pinch in his chest made him feel so bad “Anyhow” he took your hands and kissed them smelling the rose water from your pores “How are you this morning?”

“Tired”

“Then you should have been with me in bed”

“And leave Mrs Crabtree alone for tonight?”

“I forgot how proper you are” Benedict rolled his eyes and rested his head on your lap and you automatically caressed his scalp. You were reading the paper once again and he tried to read it at your pace but somehow you have started the day with loads of energy compared to him.

“Love,” he said out of nowhere

You removed the newspaper from your sight and looked down “Yes?”

“…Nothing… I’m restless”

“I’m sorry to hear that” you replied and your hands trapped his face and you went down to place a kiss on his forehead

“Keep on”

You chuckled at his response and continued to kiss him all over his face. You loved how he would sigh at each kiss, it was a silent praise.

It was when you reached his lips that any tiredness he was preaching to have disappeared.

He sat down and turned your body towards his. You kept on kissing until he pushed you to the ground and the newspaper was completely forgotten.

“I thought it was me trying to comfort you,” you said

Benedict arched a brow. He might not be tired anymore, he could -oh he could- keep it up until he has you underneath him with your breasts exposed and the tea cup freezing cold by the corner and yet the beautiful smirk you have with your teeth biting your lower lip and the natural beauty of your face made him understand you really wanted to comfort him.

“Forgive me” he smiled and pulled apart “Please carry on”

You saw how he laid on his back and you followed him, your lips met his and a small giggle came from him. He was the most endearing man on Earth as he waited with his blue eyes widely opened.

You kissed his cheeks, the tip of his nose and you bit his jawline making him hum.

Then your lips found his once again and this time he deepened the kiss, his tongue met yours and he could have sworn his soul left his body for a moment. Biscuits, tea, and juice. The flavour of this day.

Your “comfort” reached his neck while you kissed his skin, your hands played with the robe and the knots tied together. Whatever you want to do he is yours.

But then he opened his eyes at the absence of your touch and then you were swiftly tugging your dress. Your arms contorted as you expertly removed the buttons from the back and then let your dress fall to your hips.

Benedict was in a trance as his eyes roamed your form. He wondered if he did anything to deserve your touch or your presence at all.

You just smiled, sweetly yet provocatively when you showed your bare chest. No more petty coats, no more rib-breakers, only freedom in this Wiltshire cottage.

“My God” he licked his lips wanting to taste your skin

But you went to the knot and untied it, his robe fell apart and your hands went to his chest, pushing him down and you climbed him.

Your kisses trailed over his torso and he felt himself growing harder.

His eyes went to the heavens above, a sky full of white clouds... No. He can't just stay, he needs to do something. He sat down and his hands travelled down to your hips, his lips went to your breasts and your head went backwards as he sucked on your nipples and he grunted when he was pushed from the latch he had on you.

He gave you a stern look that faded with the force of your own eyes. You silently told him to stay on his back.

“Fine” he murmured to you

Your fingers found the hem of his night breeches, the ones he never wears. You found the thin cotton fabric easy to remove from his lower part and you were greeted quite happily with his arousal.

Benedict was watching attentively your actions and he gulped as you bent down and kissed the tip of his member.

A hiss came from his mouth as you wrapped your lips around him and started moving slowly. The once-dried skin slowly turned into a glistening shade of pink with your spit.

Once, twice, that head of yours bobbed to a perfect lazy rhythm and he was fighting the urge to thrust into your mouth. His hands found the back of your head and tangled themselves in your soft hair.

His grunts filled the air along with the sounds of you sucking him and the wind rustling the leaves and branches of the trees.

"You are so good to me," he said as he moved the stray hair from your face

Your mouth moved up and down and up again and you moaned in response making Benedict sigh in turn. He closed his eyes and you increased the speed. His member touched your palate and went further to the back of your mouth and as you pulled back your tongue tried to lick it further.

Benedict looked down and he had the most beautiful view. His cock disappeared in between your lips and you were so dedicated, the sounds were so wet and the feeling was so hot. He could explode just by looking at it but he couldn't.

How many times you have swallowed his seed? He couldn't count them anymore but he was sure to enjoy every single time too. He relishes the moment his cock pumps inside your mouth and you, loyal to the moment, keep taking his member while your tastebuds tingle at the warm bitter fluid. He loves and admires the movement of your throat when you swallow him and your lips stay most of the time clean.

Today? No, he doesn't need that view. He needs the one that makes him go to heaven and come back. He needs, he craves to see your core contracting with the remains of your orgasm while his seed flows out of you. He requires to see it again and again.

However, while he was picturing such a carnal moment in his mind, your mouth -full of energy- had the upper hand. Your breasts bounced with your fast movements and your mouth kept giving too much spit for you to glide up and down.

Lo-" he grunted as he felt the tensed muscles by his stomach "Y/N-"

You didn't stop and Benedict was quite undone by the blanket that made you feel such pride. You went again and again until it seemed his hands tried to stop you.

It was too late.

Benedict saw how you drank him fully, a small drop landed by your upper lip but apart from that, you did so well and still Benedict after the shock of his release, was not satisfied. Not because of you but because of his lost fantasy of coming inside of you. This day was not starting as he expected and he predicted it would be long before he could change it.

Hours after what happened you two prepared for the arrival of another client. The Crabtress returned from town with a special order; a cake Sir Richard enjoys (according to Violet Bridgerton) and you took your precious jewels and gave a final touch to your appearance. Not having a lady has made things far better in your opinion although your mama still finds it quite "offensive".

"You look splendid" Benedict said as you reached the end of the staircase

"And you look quite handsome" You gave an unconscious brush to his tailcoat and waited for the carriage to arrive

Sir Richard, with unwashed blonde hair and a subtle beard, made himself present in My Cottage. His beige tailcoat made him look so monochromatic and his pale complexion so bland but you have met him a few times to say that he was far better than other clients Benedict has invited for dinner.

"Mr Bridgerton" he happily said and shook hands with Benedict "Good to see you well"

"Sir Richard" Benedict smiled and nodded "It is a pleasure to have you"

"Thank you" his eyes drifted to your side and smiled "Mrs Bridgerton, radiant as always"

"Thank you, Sir Richard. I hope you will enjoy the dinner we have planned"

He grabbed your hand and squeezed it between his own "Just Richard, my Lady. Formalities" he sighed looking at Benedict "Are well forgotten back in London, no?"

With his laughter, the evening began. Still, the image of Benedict as someone who throws a dinner for a client and you by his side seemed out of your mind as if this was too much of a tryout for you both and still, protocols and politeness were still very present.

"Tell me" Sir Richard started "Is it true?"

"I'm afraid not to know what is true, Richard"

"That my future son-in-law has been seen roaming at night through the streets of London?"

Your wine got stuck in your throat, this is what you and Benedict were gossiping about yesterday so you locked eyes with your husband who blinked away with aim of diverting the talk.

"Oh, I wouldn't know Si- Richard"

He turned around and looked at you as he passed the tray of vegetables "What say you, Mrs Bridgerton?"

"Well" you tried to remember what else Benedict had told you "I haven't heard of that"

"Please, it is all over that dubious pamphlet... Mr Alvey spotted lurking around London" he shrugged "I told my daughter about it but she is, well, adamant"

"If I may," you said leaving the tray away "I have seen that pamphlet and is not like Lady Whistledown"

"No, it is not"

"Perhaps we can take whatever source and words are inked there with a grain of salt, can we not? Lady Whistledown has written things that by the end of the week can be verified but this pamphlet I believe has failed to do so"

Sir Richard nodded and brought a string bean to his mouth "Mr. Bridgerton, you got a gem"

"Oh, I know"

"Tell me, do you write?"

Your fork was forgotten on top of your plate as you blinked at the man “I-“

“Forgive me for the questioning. I recently talk with your father and he told me you wrote constantly. Now, I just wonder if you recall your days or you write about different things?”

“I do have many opinions” you admitted and gave a quick glance at Benedict

"And do you have a lot of time to write them down? I Believe so, this house is not yet filled with children, which don’t get me wrong they are lovely but free time can be used otherwise to spread solid sentences. Wouldn’t you agree?”

You tried to smile as your cheek grew hotter with each second that passed and the food was turning colder.

"Indeed" Benedict replied "And what are you trying to suggest, Richard?"

"You could give her a chance, write under the pen name Mrs Bridgerton and we could all know the wife of the second son; the painter. After all, my newspaper is known not for being traditional and I have employed plenty of women and not for cleaning the presses may I add”

"It would be an honour but I do not have the knowledge"

Benedict was first to give a smack with his lips at the absurdity of your comment “Nonsense”

“I mean” you smiled at him “knowledge of writing professionally. Although Eloise once blamed me for being Whistledown and that was a high yet ridiculous compliment, in reality I know nothing of publishing my thoughts”

“you always publish them with me” Benedict smiled lost in how the conversation was directed “and you do it superbly”

Sir Richard -sorry, Richard- laughed loud and strong “There you are. What do you think, Mrs Bridgerton?”

“And write about?”

Richard took his glass of wine and drank, his throat was dry after such a laugh, his cheeks flushed red and he took a minute to reply as he wiped his mouth with a napkin.

"Write about the things no one wants to discuss" he leaned closer to the table, the candles illuminating his face and his green eyes were now focused on you "Facts, stories, good knowledge but also centred in your own opinion and tied to the readers”

You chuckled at the blurriness of his motive “Care to give me an example?”

"There were some household machines people around in London were patenting. Write about it, give your opinion, and ask the readers whether they like it. Would they use them?”

You fastly blinked at the proposition “S-Richard, that is quite an offer. I wonder if you got the right au-“

“I don’t mean to intrude in what seems to be a fruitful talk” Benedict said “But before you downgrade your knowledge which I know surpasses mine. I would say you could start small, no? Just write something simple, no need to be a machine or a new invention. What would you love to write about, darling?"

You sighed and took a sip of wine, thinking for a moment. Then an idea was formed in your mind.

"The importance of a full education for women… I might ask the readers” You looked at Sir Richard “ what do they think about it” you puffed "I'm sorry you said simple" You referred to Benedict "I ju-"

"That word doesn't fit into your vocabulary" your husband smirked

“I enjoy it now. We must talk about logistics. My press is in London and Wiltshire is not Surrey if you know what I mean”

Benedict saw your barely touched dinner and smiled at the man “We ought to but please let us eat something before I faint"

Dinner was a success, the cake was served and a new friend was made. When it was time to leave the men alone inside the art studio you waited by the tea room with your journal on the table. The inked words kept piling up forgotten in each page. If Sir Richard is right, you could be the next Lady Whistledown but then the consequences would be different.

"No such thing" you whispered to yourself

Employment. You laughed. What is this about? A pound per column published? Is it truly worth it when your name is known because you so desperately tried to make your opinion known?

The day already proved to be long and heavy. You waited for the men to finish without any activity to occupy yourself. It would have been different if the guest brought his wife, just like previous meeting you would offer her to talk or play cards if she looked high-spirited.

When you heard the doors creaking open you stood up and put your journal away to join the men. Pleased faces both of them as Benedict took the man's tailcoat by the entrance.

"Ah Mrs Bridgerton. It's been a while since I don't have such a nice evening"

"Thank you, Richard"

"We should have done it before" he looked at Benedict "I should have done this with your father, but oh well. Benedict, we must stay communicated this month and you Mrs Bridgerton I will send you some information this week that will make you change that puzzled look in you"

"I'll receive it gladly"

"Very well. Full stomach, good hosts I will sleep well tonight. Mr Bridgerton, I will see you later"

"You will. Have a good trip back home"

You followed him to the door and bid farewell to the man, his carriage was already outside and he was ready to depart and when he did you sighed long and steady until you saw Benedict's face.

"So?"

He shrugged "He needs a second one, just smaller but he loved it. Quite the mood he was seeking for his office he said"

You smiled and your cheek fell to his warm arm "There you go then"

"Thank you for today, for last night, for everything," he said in a soft voice and placed a kiss on your head

"What a day"

"You go upstairs I will thank the Crabtrees for preparing dinner"

"Uhum" you said mostly dazed and tired, you followed the stairs and turned to walk to the main chamber.

The candles were lit and the bed was made and ready for you to lay down and what a fall you had against the duvet. You exhaled and closed your eyes, feeling the soft fabric caressing your skin. Minutes later your ears took the noise of the door as Benedict's presence. You rolled and saw how fast he took his clothes and landed by your side.

His hand took your hair and caressed it, his blue eyes were fixed on yours.

"I must confess something" he whispered

"What?"

"I am... not content"

You frown and try to prop your head up with your hand "You're unhappy?"

"No, it's not unhappy just not content"

"Isn't that the same?"

"No" He sighed and turned his face to look at the ceiling "I am quite happy with you, with my family, with this place... with you and with you"

"Alright"

"But I..." he scratched his brow "I don't enjoy whatever I built of myself as an adult in terms of my profession" he saw your listening face and continued "It is a good living, it is a good business I can't complain about that. However, I feel off. Not here, not there but most of all not here"

"Not here?"

"Not with you. Fully and I know it's not as if you need my constant presence by your side-"

"Who said that?"

Benedict gently smirked "What I mean is that I must pause this work. We have enough money to last our lifetime..." he paused, his eyes dancing "And... perhaps one kid's lifetime"

"And if we have two?"

"Alright, two kids' lifetime but not for our grandkids"

"Hmmm. Then our kids will have to work" you laughed while Benedict joined you seconds later "I understand what you mean"

"I do will leave money. I will work at some point" he justified

"I don't mind that" you confessed "I know you don't enjoy rushing things and clearly you feel you rushed into this work-for-commission task when you feel you should be here with me"

Benedict's chest tickled in warmness as he heard his thoughts coming from your mouth "My dear, you just get me don't you?"

"You were never difficult to read for me"

He grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him, his lips kissing yours softly, his nose brushing your cheek, his heart racing. He was not sure what he would do if you were not by his side.

"You know," he said "If you are truly tired I will understand but" his hand pressed your arm and traced down at your waist "I want to be here tonight with you"

"Depends on how you want to be here" you murmured

"Let me tell you" he kissed your hand and then hovered on top of you "Let me show you" he kissed your lips, sweetly and locked eyes with you "I want to find my way in you, in your open hands," he said merging your fingers with his, tightly "and that you feel like a woman only with me" his free hand caressed your breast through the fabric and then his lips took yours "Today and tomorrow and the days after I want to be here. Today I want you" his hand reached for the bottom of your dress and he slowly pushed it upwards, the skin of his legs brushing yours as his knee opened your thighs.

"I want to be here with you," you said between a murmur and a kiss, his weight was on top of you and his eyes were bright in the light, the shadow of the candles making his face look sharper and the blue of his eyes deeper and darker.

Benedict licked his lips and pulled apart only to hastily remove your stockings. He put his arms behind your back as you arched it, his fingers undid the buttons and pushed the sleeves down. He did not wait and grabbed the dress and threw it to the side.

Your breasts tempted to move out of the corset and Benedict exhaled as he removed it and it reminded him again how unnerving these pieces were and how good is to have you not wearing one daily.

"I want to be here, now" he repeated with each kiss he gave you, his tongue tasted you and his hands touched your thighs "I want to quench this thirst" he moved down to your nipples and licked once, licked twice "This thirst of my soul on your lips or-" he gulped seeing the absence of your pantalettes and the readiness of your core

His tongue attacked your folds and licked in slow, steady motions that had you trembling. Your head was buried on the duvet and your fingers tangled in his hair.

"Oh my-Benedict" you moaned as his tongue flicked

Benedict sucked and slurped as he pushed a finger inside and turned up to see your wanton eyes and parted lips "Oh my Y/N" he mimicked and resumed his movements

A second finger joined while the pace was increasing; he sucked your nub and pushed his fingers up. His tongue played with his fingers as they slid in and out and he moaned against you with the real juices only you can produce but he knew he was owing you so many orgasms already. He has not let you set free in his face for almost a week and knowing you, you are counting.

He pulled apart and removed his fingers, his thumb rubbed the sensitive spot while his mouth kissed his way up to your neck.

"Benedict"

He moaned and bit your earlobe "Y/N"

"More"

"I will give it all," he said "I promise"

Swiftly, his wet fingers grabbed his member and he stroked himself before pushing it into your folds.

"I love you" he kissed your lips

"I love you more"

"You're all mine" he thrusted only once "And I am so yours" he pulled back and slammed until you were only one

Your hands were holding his sides as he pounced into you, his hot breath heated your cheek as he groaned and growled with each push. He was so strong and so hard and yet so soft. Your lips brushed and kissed as your walls tightened.

"Oh, dear god" he moaned as his pace slowed down "Are you close?"

"I..." you softly snorted "Is too much" You felt your navel tensing "Almost"

"So fast" he whispered and kissed your bottom lip "I am praised for that" Benedict groaned and pushed in and out, in and out. He could feel the build-up inside his navel and the pressure was too much already.

Wait. He thought. Just make it last a bit more. Be here. Be here.

And he saw you underneath against the olive duvet and how glorified you looked with your pink cheeks and parted lips. With your breasts bouncing with his pace and your nipples getting hard then turning soft. And as he caressed your stomach while slowing the thrusts he knew that to be here meant something else.

Six months after you got married he has wasted time trying to find where he fits but he now sees he has always fit with you -no jest intended- six months and he hasn't had it right until now. He wants to be here and give you his kids. He needs to see you swollen with his child, your breasts filled with milk and oh dear get you aroused looking like that.

Yet first things first. He needs to have what he got denied this morning.

"Benedict"

He groaned with your moans and his thrusts sped up only to become more erratic, his hand went down and massaged your nub and you were doing so good trying not to come fast and that only gave him time to organize his lewd thoughts.

His eyes went to your wrapping folds around him and he imagined the moment his cock will spur his warm white seed inside of you. How good will you take him? Will your contracting walls push his essence deep within you?

He licked his lips and his groans grew louder as the tension was too much and the feeling was almost unbearable.

"I can't" he grunted "Oh no, I can't."

He fell forwards as he hovered and his hips thrust faster making you arch your back at the intense fight between you. He felt how you were welcoming your orgasms and he kept focusing on your open mouth and tensed jaw muscles. He pushed his cock inside. All the way inside, he ordered himself.

He moaned and softly exhaled your name as his stomach became hard with his release. He felt his seed being milked out of him and he stayed there acting as the barrier for his seed not to flow out of you.

His hand dried the sweat around your forehead and his body felt heavy but he couldn't move. Not when he had such a beautiful view. He saw how your breathing started to regulate and your legs stopped shaking. He moved out of you and somehow his eyes took a long glance at your core and how beautifully marked it was with his thick seed coming out of you.

He smiled and looked up at your pretty face "Let us rest" you responded n a soft hum and Benedict enjoyed as you moved inside the linens and how his fluids were still dropping across your inner thighs "Sleep, my love" he whispered

Benedict often thought about how he reached this point in his life. From the boy who was so desperate for freedom to the man who found a purpose. And he has found the explanation. He has reached here thanks to you and how good it feels. How full he feels when he has you near and when he reflects that he is loved by you. To be here, he thinks.

No onelse, nowhere else.

To be here.

[verstappensrealwife]

No regrets - Oscar Piastri x Inexperienced!Fem!Reader

fluff, smut.

approx 1200 words

warnings: fem receiving: fingering and oral, p in v, loss of virginity, not proof read. Pussy and shaft….

based on this request :)

oscar piastri masterlist - here. f1 masterlist - here.

You never imagined losing your virginity to him.

He was your neighbor for goodness sake!

“Good morning!” He greeted each morning as you left your apartment at 8am sharp to head to work. You’d reply in kind and go on with your day, sometimes thinking to the cute boy across the hall.

Oscar, however, was not a morning person. He practically forced himself out of bed just to see you, speak to you, pretend to be going somewhere, then go back inside and chastise himself mentally for not even trying to ask you out.

One evening as you were coming home, he was leaving his apartment, and almost tripped over his feet when he saw you.

He was not prepared to speak to you. Each morning he’s silently sike himself up to utter two words. Now he was stuck in a situation: ignore you and pretend he didn’t just nearly fall straight into you, or mutter some words you probably won’t hear because of how quiet he would inevitably be.

“Hi,” You smiled as you pushed your key into your door.

“Hello.” He said back, not sure whether to walk away- very quickly- or stay and attempt to talk to you. It was the latter. “Sorry to be nosy but urm… well… I don’t think i actually know your name?”

“Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N.” You replied, holding your hand out to him to shake. His hand felt more than limp in your grasp.

“Oscar… Piastri.”

“Nice to meet you, Oscar… Piastri.” you giggled, slightly making fun of his shy demeanour

He huffed a small laugh, “Sorry to be more nosy, but I don’t think I have your number either?” He tried… he really did. And he succeeded!

“Oh! Sure, yeah!” You passed him your phone, a small smile playing on your lips as you watched him press the digits into a new contact. “Well, I should be going, a girl needs to eat.”

“I- I mean you can eat with me…” He said, “I- that sounds weird- I- Do you wanna go on a date with me?”

That was the first of many dates he had invited you on. It became almost routine over the 2023 summer break for Oscar to take you out, every Friday evening, 7pm.

But by the end of August he had to of course go back to travelling the globe, racing cars.

The two of you stayed in touch, he gave you a key to his apartment to water his plants- of which only 2 were real. He routinely called you on a Friday night- unless team duties came upon him- to keep up with tradition.

But he grew tired of not being able to see you, physically.

The flight was long, and boring, but seeing Oscar as the first thing out the airport was more than exciting.He hugged you- longer than friends would hug- and led you by the small of your back to his car.

“To the hotel?” He asked you.

“Yes sir!” You smiled.

The hotel room you were put in was huge, the bed probably bigger than your kitchen at home.

Before you even touched your suitcase you fell, backwards, into the pristine white sheets of the hotel bed. Oscar falling in suit.

Lay next to eachother, you turned your head to see him already looking at you. He had a lovesick look in his eyes as he admired your face, eyes, lips. The more he stared at your lips, the more he couldn’t stop thinking about kissing them.

His body acted before his mind and he was kissing you before he knew it. You were a little taken aback but didn’t pull away- you didn’t want to.

Until he moved his hand from your face, to your waist, to the inside of your leg.

You jumped up quickly, almost headbutting him in the nose in the process.

He was more than swift to throw apologies at you, sorries and quick movement to the other side of the bed.

There was an uncomfortable silence which Oscar hated. He wanted to say something, anything, but no words could fix, what in his mind, was the most awkward encounter with a woman in his life.

“It’s not that I don’t want to…” You said quietly from the far side of the bed. He looked over at you, face flushed a light pink in embarrassment. “I– embarrassingly enough, im a virgin.”

He frowned confused. “Your a virgin? Like… never had sex… You?”

“Rub it in why dont you,” You laughed, “Why’s that so shocking?”

“Look at you! You’re like the most beautiful woman i’ve layed eyes on.” He wasn’t lying. “I thought men would be throwing themselves at you- I would.”

Now it was your turn to blush crimson, heat rising up your neck and across your face. You carefully shimmied towards him, holding his face gently. “If I’m gonna do it, I want it to be with you.”

That was all he needed to hear. He was on you like predator to prey, greedily kissing you, feeling your body needily. Until he went lower.

He was tentative, gentle in pushing his hands under the fabric of your underwear. Rubbing his finger up and down, smearing the wetness across your pussy. “Thats a good girl,” He said quietly. You weren’t meant to even hear him, but you did. And god, did it make you moan louder. He smirked at your visceral reaction. You heartbeat quickening as he pushed one finger, then two inside.

“See, no need to be nervous… Feels good, hm?”

You babbled some sort of response to him, a ‘yes’ somewhere in the jumble of the reply.

He pushed the clothes off of your bottom half completely, before moving to pull the shirt off your torso, unclipping your bra with ease and tossing it somewhere behind him. He was more than gentle as he kissed you, your neck, chest, stomach, thighs, and finally your clit.

He licked and sucked like there was no tomorrow. Indulging in the way your body reacted to him, to what he was doing to you, how he made you feel.

The first orgasm washed over you, legs shaking as he licked up everything. Climbing back up your body he was face to face, his mouth covered in a shine of liquid. “So, do you wanna do this. Really do it.”

You took a deep breath and nodded. He undressed, and kneeled between your legs, rolling a condom up the length of his shaft before positioning it infront of the entrance.

You took one final deep breath and he slowing pushed his hips towards your own. It hurt less than you had imagined- -but that didn’t take away from the fact it still stung.

He hadn’t moved in almost 2 minutes before you gave him the go ahead, pulling his hips back slowly and pushing them back towards you at the same pace. It hurt less as he carried on, eventually the sting turning to pleasure.

“Doing so- fuck- so well for me.” He groaned as he reached his peak slowly.

You could barely make words, so stuck to just moaning his name over and over again, whines of need flowing from your lips.

“Gonna cum, okay baby?”

You nodded quickly as he quickened his pace a little before his hips stuttered against yours before pulling out of you and immediately getting up. “I’ll be back- just need to clean you up.”

You never imagined losing your virginity to him.

But god, you didn’t regret it. Not one bit.

[barcaatthemoon]

"do you think of me when you touch yourself?" with alexia pls <3

insufferable || alexia putellas x reader ||

alexia didn't know how to feel when she saw you. she had seen you in a few photo dumps from jenni, but it didn't compare to being next to you again. it had been years since alexia had seen you, and admittedly, they had been kind to you. alexia didn't know what to think as she watched you coach your team.

"what did you do to that poor girl?" marta asked as she glanced over towards you. alexia glanced up at the older player. the same thought was running through her head. she knew that your injury had taken a toll on you, as had the breakup. sometimes alexia felt bad about leaving you at one of your lowest points, but the two of you were constantly at each other's throats. "you should talk to her. maybe things could be better now."

"and deal with the distance? i'll talk to her, but we couldn't handle barcelona to madrid, marta," alexia said. she mustered up as much of her courage as she could to walk over there and talk to you. you were speaking rapid spanish at the girls on your bench, so fast that alexia could barely keep up.

"you played well ladies, hit the showers. drinks on me tonight," you told your team. alexia was glad that you weren't overly upset over the loss. "congratulations, i suppose that i owe you a drink as well capi."

"coaching looks good on you," alexia complimented. you smirked as you turned and flexed your arm. you had always been pretty fit, but now you were carrying more muscle than ever. you'd never play again, but you looked like you could give any of the girls on the pitch a run for their money.

"gotta give you something to think about on the ride back to spain," you teased. you were waiting for a quip or something from alexia, but it never came. you frowned and decided to push a little further. "did i hit too close to home?"

"shut up," alexia grumbled as she shoved you away. you laughed it off before you realized what alexia was getting at. she was blushing pretty hard, and looked like she did whenever you dug too close to the truth.

"oh my god, do you think of me when you touch yourself?" alexia clapped her hand over your mouth, grumbling under her breath about how you never changed. "i've got some time off coming up. i could make a trip to spain to see you if you'd like."

"it's much easier to pretend that you can be romantic if you're all the way over here," alexia teased. you scoffed at her insinuation, the plane ticket to barcelona for your upcoming vacation already booked in your mind.

[penkura]

Our Angel

Summary: Sanji can't believe how lucky he is to have you and this little baby you brought into the world.

Warning: Mentions of giving birth, pregnancy discussion, loving husband Sanji :3

Note: Ahh the final one-shot I have done from the 'knowing' universe! :') I wrote this after the last one, and it's long but also one of my favorites. I love writing Sanji, please let me write more for him.

How much longer? How much longer??

Sanji's anxiety was through the roof as he paced back and forth in front of the infirmary door. You were finally in labor and Chopper and Robin had kicked him out of the room, thinking he was making you more stressed than your contractions were. He could hear them guiding you through the next contraction and telling you to start pushing, and he really, really wanted a cigarette for the first time in months.

He desperately wanted to be in there with you, but didn't want you more stressed than you already were. Sanji believed it couldn't be too much longer, but also wasn't entirely sure. Labor could last hours or even multiple days, yours was progressing quickly though, and it wouldn't be long before you met your baby face to face. Sanji leaned against the door, holding his breath without realizing it, just waiting and listening.

And a few moments later, he finally released his breath when he heard a baby's cries, standing up straight and facing the door, his anxiety finally being taken off his shoulders. He could hear Robin and Chopper congratulating you and telling you that you did amazingly, but he couldn't hear if they said whether you had a boy or girl, or how the baby was doing. The cries though told him that your newborn was doing just well, they were very upset to be in the world now, but it would be all right over time.

After several more minutes of waiting and his anxiety picking up again, Sanji was beyond glad to see the infirmary door open and Robin giving him a smile.

"You can come back in now."

He didn't need to be told twice, quickly entering the room and hurrying to your side, making you laugh when he got to you, dropping to his knees beside your bed and taking your hand before hugging you as close as possible.

"Sanji~"

"I'm so glad you're okay! Both of you!"

Sanji started kissing you all over your face, making you laugh lightly until you both heard a small cry, which made him freeze a bit before looking at your little baby resting comfortably on your chest. Seeing the tears start to well up in his eyes made you smile softly before you looked back at your newborn child.

"What do you think?"

"They're…perfect."

"Isn't she?"

"She?!"

Laughing again you nodded. Through the later months of your pregnancy, Sanji made it clear how badly he wanted and hoped you were having a girl. When your baby first kicked, there was so much excitement between the two of you that he inadvertently called them she, surprising you until you questioned him about it.

"She?"

"...I said they."

"No, Sanji, you said she." You giggled a bit seeing how embarrassed he was at letting his wish for a daughter out like that. "You think we're having a girl?"

"I…hope we are."

You definitely had realized, even before then, that Sanji would be a great girl dad, and now he could prove that to you with your newborn daughter. Just the fact he seemed hesitant to even touch her tiny hand for a second told you he was going to be the most protective dad you'd ever met.

"She looks exactly like you, Sanji."

"She…she really does." Sanji finally reached out and barely brushed your daughter's cheek with his knuckle, which made her move just a bit. She looked like she was his clone almost. The same blonde hair, same curled eyebrows. She basically got nothing from you and everything from your husband, but you didn't really mind it. You might get lucky and she'd get your eye color, but even then it would be all right if not.

She was still your perfect little daughter.

"Can I," Sanji pulled you from your thoughts, nervously biting his lip a bit while looking from your daughter to you, "can I hold her…?"

"Of course!"

Nerves started bubbling up, but Sanji let you show him the best way to hold your daughter. He held her close, keeping one of his hands under her head to give her more support, while she started to whine when she was moved from you to him. You weren't at all surprised when Sanji started to gently hush her, kissing her forehead and softly telling her that she was all right.

"Yeah, it's ok, sweetheart. Daddy's got you, angel."

Your daughter calmed down almost immediately, opening her eyes to try and focus on Sanji, and it nearly took his breath away to see her looking up at him. This was what you two had waited the last nine months for. To finally see and meet your daughter face to face, and here she was! A precious, beautiful little angel that fit perfectly in his arms and looked at him like he was the most amazing thing she'd ever seen (which, granted, she'd really only seen you and Sanji, but it still meant everything to him). You just watched as Sanji stared at her and she stared back at him, before she yawned and snuggled herself more comfortably in his arms, you noticing how his bottom lip was trembling while he watched her fall asleep, kissing her forehead again and whispering how much he loved your sweet little girl.

"[Y/N]...thank you so much for her."

Hearing how strained Sanji's voice was made you smile softly, knowing he was fighting to not start crying. Not right now, he didn't want to wake your daughter or cause her any distress.

"What do you think we should name her?"

"I…I'm not sure, love."

"Well, I have an idea."

+!+

When you had gone into labor, the rest of your crewmates were off the ship. You'd docked at an island the day before and they'd all gone to explore a bit, pick up a few things, and let the log pose reset. You had hoped to go later in the day but obviously things had changed and you wouldn't be joining anyone on this island this time. Robin and Chopper had stayed behind just in case, since you were near your due date anyway and it was a good thing they did.

Once Luffy and the others got back, they were surprised Robin was the only one on the deck of the Sunny waiting for them. Luffy of course was the one to ask, running up to Robin and asking if you were sleeping or something. You'd normally be on the deck waiting for everyone, so it was weird they didn't see you this time.

Robin smiled a bit, "Well I assume she is by now. She gave birth to a beautiful baby girl while you all were gone."

Everyone was completely silent, expecting Robin to say she was just kidding to get a rise out of them.

"I'm not joking by the way."

With that statement there were shouts from Usopp, Luffy, and Nami, the latter of the three running for the infirmary right away saying she needed to see her niece. Not even having seen your daughter yet but being happy for you, Franky and Brook were in tears, while Zoro smiled a bit and Jimbei gave a smile and a nod.

"Sounds like the crew has expanded by one then."

Luffy and Usopp were quick to follow after Nami, nearly breaking down the infirmary door asking to see your daughter.

You were actually wide awake, holding your daughter and showing her off to Nami who was cooing softly towards her.

"What a little cutie, yes you are! Aunt Nami is going to buy you lots of cute dresses!"

You laughed a bit while your daughter stared up at Nami, seeming to be completely amazed by her. "You wanna hold her?"

Nami was about to respond when Luffy pushed past her, getting up close to see your daughter. "She's so small!"

"Luffy!" Sanji grabbed your captain by the back of his shirt and started pulling him away. "Get out of her face! You're going to scare her and make her cry!"

"No I'm not!"

"Hey guys."

"Yes you are!" Honestly Sanji trusted Luffy a lot, but he needed to learn boundaries, especially with a newborn baby.

"Nuh-uh! She's gonna think I'm funny!"

"Boys."

"And if she doesn't?!"

"Then…then…I don't know?"

"Idiots!" Nami was close to bashing both their heads in, but her outburst got their attention. "You're both about to make her cry!"

Sanji looked over and saw you gently hushing your daughter who was starting to whine and whimper like she was about to cry, him rushing over by your side to help with quiet, sweet words that he was sorry and didn't mean to be loud.

"My apologies, Angel. I didn't mean to startle you."

Once she calmed back down, you let Usopp and Luffy come over and see her, both of them looking amazed by how small she was. Luffy kept begging to hold her, Nami telling him she had first dibs, and Usopp asking how you both were. Your other crewmates joined you all after a bit, Brook offering to start playing a lullaby to keep your baby girl calm while Franky was crying about how super it was to meet her finally. Robin returned to make sure you weren't getting overwhelmed, and Chopper wanted to do another check on your daughter to be certain she was doing all right. Jimbei gave you his congratulations and said you'd had a beautiful baby, while Zoro mostly stayed to the side, but he did smile just a bit, glad for you to have safely delivered your baby.

You were doing well with everyone there, answering questions and letting each of your crewmates see your daughter up close, they all took turns briefly holding her since they knew that, obviously, they'd have plenty of chances to do so in the future. Once Nami got a hold of her a second time, she refused to let her go to anyone that wasn't you or Sanji. She was going to absolutely spoil your daughter and everyone could see that.

"Hey hey," Luffy latched onto your arm, giving you a big grin, "what'd you guys name her??"

The small bits of chatter quieted hearing Luffy's question, most of your friends looking at you or Sanji for an answer. Nami still had your daughter in her arms, very gently bouncing the sleeping newborn.

You smiled at Sanji with a slight nod, him returning the gesture to speak up.

"We've decided to call her Angel. After calling her that while [Y/N] was pregnant, it…it felt right."

Truthfully you had offered to name her after Sanji's mother, whether you'd had a boy or girl, and he almost took you up on it, but felt that for now, he'd wanted to give your child their own, unique name. He really did greatly appreciate you wanting to honor his mother, but didn't feel ready for that yet. And like he'd said, you two had called your daughter an angel the whole time you were pregnant, actually naming her Angel felt like the right thing to do and you both thought it sounded wonderful when you decided.

"What a sweet name." Robin smiled and nodded, the rest of your crewmates agreeing with her.

After some time Chopper said you needed rest and it was close to dinner time, making Sanji nod.

"I'll go get something started for–"

"Nope!" Shaking her head, Nami handed Angel back to Sanji to stop him. "We'll take care of dinner and bring you guys some; you stay with your wife and daughter, Sanji!"

With a grin she left the infirmary and headed straight for the kitchen, everyone else following shortly after her, once they'd given you another congratulations and said goodnight to their niece. Seeing the shocked look on Sanji’s face made you laugh once everyone else had left.

“...did I just get banned from my own kitchen?”

+!+

The rest of the evening went by smoothly and quietly for your little family. Nami had sent Zoro to bring you and Sanji dinner once it was done, and you were grateful for having so many people to take care of your family while you recovered. Chopper came in a few times to check up on you and Angel, making sure both of you were doing well before he headed off to bed, telling Sanji to come get him if anything happened. After you had dinner and nursed Angel again, you went and took a quick shower, leaving Sanji with your daughter which made him terribly nervous even though he knew it was only going to take you a few minutes to shower. All he did the whole time you were gone was watch her sleep. You'd given her a pacifier to hopefully keep her calm and sleeping, and it did work. Sanji was just so enthralled with her, gently hushing her and stroking her chubby cheek whenever she started to fuss a little.

"Hey it's alright, don't cry. Mommy will be back soon, daddy's got you for now."

When you did get back, you held back a laugh seeing Sanji was nearly asleep while holding Angel. Quietly, you went over and took her from him, waking your sleepy husband and telling him it was just you, you were going to get Angel to bed so you both could sleep. While Sanji followed your lead and went to take a shower himself, you got Angel ready for bed and comfortable in a bassinet near you, she was sleeping soundly and you knew she'd wake at some point in the night, but until then, you'd watch her sleep and hold her little hand, making sure she knew you weren't going anywhere.

"I love you so much, Angel," leaning over, you placed a soft kiss on her forehead, "I'm so glad you're ours."

Once he came back from his own shower, Sanji wasn't even the slightest bit surprised to find you already asleep, still holding your daughter's hand. You'd had quite a day, having pushed a whole new person out into the world, nursing her multiple times, and having to deal with your anxious crewmates for several hours after they got back. It was a wonder you'd stayed awake as long as you had! Sanji knew he was staying with you in the infirmary as long as Chopper made you and Angel stay there, so he did the same as you and kissed your daughter's forehead, before slipping into your bed beside you, bringing you close to him and kissing your cheek once he did.

"I'm so proud of you, [Y/N]. You've been amazing today."

You shifted a bit, making Sanji smile when you told him you loved him before falling back fast asleep.

"I love you too…both of you."

+!+

Your sweet little Angel had grown so much in the last three years. She had ended up with your eye color, which made you beyond happy that she'd gotten something from you. She'd learned to walk, talk, and had the brightest smile and giggles on the Sunny, apart from Luffy that is. She really was an angel to everyone, but especially you and Sanji.

Her first steps weren't really because of you or Sanji, it was Luffy and Usopp trying to get her to start taking a few on her own. She'd been able to walk a slight bit at the time with someone holding her hands, but not on her own yet. You absolutely trusted Usopp and Luffy with her (despite how many times Luffy tossed her into the air and caught her, the fear you felt the first time made you consider leaving), they were helping Angel learn to walk under your watch, you were sitting nearby on a lounger with Sanji, who was slightly nervous watching them. Honestly Sanji was the more nervous parent at times, but you knew he just wanted Angel to be as safe as possible while you all traveled the seas.

"Come onnnnn, you can do it, Angel!" Luffy grinned at her with his arms wide open, while Usopp had a hold of her hands, keeping her standing up. Angel frowned a bit, tears welling up in her eyes when she tried to reach for Luffy but couldn't grab him. He was only a few feet away, he'd easily be able to hurry over and lift her up, but your captain also really wanted to see her take her steps on her own.

"You wanna try, Angel?" Usopp smiled and let go of one of her hands to ruffle her hair a bit, which made her whine slightly. Luffy took two very small steps forward, arms still wide open and grinning.

"You can do it!"

Angel kept reaching her free hand towards Luffy, before she looked at her feet and took a step, looking back at him while she started to walk on her own once Usopp let go of her hand.

Watching your then nine-month-old daughter take her first solo steps caused you to tear up while Sanji was beaming with pride. Angel made it over to Luffy on her own, and once she did, he scooped her up in his arms with loud laughter.

"Yahoo, you did it, Angel!!"

"Good job! Next you'll be running around the ship!"

Angel giggled loudly while Luffy tossed her gently into the air. After the one time he threw her too high up causing you and Sanji to threaten him he'd been more careful, especially seeing how much she enjoyed being tossed up and caught. After that, she started following you and Sanji like a duckling, eventually getting to where she was running around the Sunny, either chasing someone or being chased with loud laughter.

When she said her first word, you weren't even on the ship. You had gone into town with Franky and Jimbei when you landed on an island, checking the place out to see what stores they had and how long it would take the log pose to reset. You'd left Angel on the ship with Sanji, and while he was grateful for the time with your daughter, he was also trying to figure out what groceries he needed to go shopping for the next day. Nami offered to entertain Angel while he checked the pantry and fridge, taking her out to the deck for some sun and to play with her.

"You are just so cuuuuuute! You got your daddy's hair and eyebrows but your mommy's face!"

Angel smiled and giggled a bit at Nami, covering her mouth with her little hands. At this point she was already 18-months-old, but hadn't said her first word just yet. You weren't very concerned, knowing it would happen when it happened, but every evening when the three of you went to your room, Sanji would sit with Angel on your bed and try to get her to say something more than her toddler babbling.

"Come on, sweetheart. Can you say dada?"

Angel babbled, no discernable words coming from her mouth while she smiled and reached at Sanji.

"Then…mama?"

"Mmmm….mmmm…." She pressed her lips together before sticking her tongue out.

You laughed, shaking your head. "I don't think she's ready yet, Sanji."

Nami had given Angel a coloring book and some crayons to entertain herself, especially once she started talking with Zoro about the money he owed her.

"I'm just saying, if you leave me with a little of your allowance every time we dock, you'll be paid off in no time!"

"How much is a little?"

"Mmm," Nami thought for a second, patting Angel on the head when she smiled at her, "about 300 berries."

"That's a tenth of what you give me!"

"Yeah, and?"

Zoro's eye twitched slightly, obviously annoyed by this. It wasn't his fault all the stuff he normally bought was expensive, or that he spent a decent bit of it on booze!

The two argued a bit more while Angel watched them, giggling a bit when Zoro lifted her up.

"Wait, where are you taking her?!"

"Nap time. Right, tiny cook?"

"Nap!"

Nami and Zoro both stared at Angel in surprise, your daughter yawning a little and sticking her thumb in her mouth.

"Did she just…?"

"She did! Sanji!!"

Hearing Nami yell for him, Sanji dropped what he was doing and ran out to the deck instantly. "What's wrong?!"

"Listen, listen!!" Nami turned back to Angel and Zoro, telling him to say what he did before.

"Hey, it's nap time, right?"

Angel nodded. "Nap!"

Hearing her say an actual word, not toddler babbling, made Sanji's jaw drop and he started to tear up a bit. "Y-Yeah! It's nap time, Angel!"

Honestly it was an odd first word, but when you heard her say it, it made you smile and hug her close, kissing her chubby cheeks and telling her how proud you were. After that, the words came more easily and she quickly realized she knew who mama and dada were, and started calling you and Sanji whenever she needed you. She eventually had nicknames for everyone so she could call them easily, and your crewmates accepted them instantly.

As she got older, turning three more recently, you'd become even more amazed with your daughter and how she was becoming her own person. She was a giggly mess most days, loved fruit over every other food, and took naps almost as often as Zoro. They had become napping buddies much to Sanji's chagrin, but he eventually accepted since Zoro would bring Angel to one of you once she was awake.

Nami made good on her promise to buy Angel lots of cute dresses, your daughter's wardrobe was better than yours. Robin would sit and read with her until she fell asleep most nap times, if Zoro wasn't around at the moment. Usopp and Luffy would play games like tag or hide and seek with her, one of them always having Angel on their shoulders in a team up against the other. Chopper would join them most of the time, or he and Angel would play on the swing or in the kiddy pool together. Franky made Angel new toys constantly, only with your approval did he give them to her. Brook would play whatever song or lullaby Angel wanted to hear, or do his infamous 45 Degrees to make her burst out laughing. Jimbei would tell her (along with Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper) various stories he had from before he joined you all, and she loved every one of them.

Despite your love for your crewmates, you had more enjoyed introducing Angel to the Baratie crew over everyone else. After your pregnancy was confirmed, Sanji had given them a call, speaking to Zeff before anyone else and letting him know he was going to, basically, be a grandfather. It became so quiet that you and Sanji both wondered if the connection got severed, before hearing Patty yell asking why Zeff was crying over the transponder snail receiver. It made Sanji tear up worse than when you told him you were definitely pregnant, and he had to give you the receiver to tell the rest of the Baratie crew. When they all heard, they cheered and gave congratulations to you and Sanji, a few of them saying you absolutely had to stop by once the baby had been born. Once Angel was born, you sent over all the pictures you took of her so everyone at Baratie could see her as she grew up. Eventually your ship made it back to the East Blue and the Baratie, around the time of Angel's second birthday, which Zeff demanded you to celebrate there once you arrived. You dressed her in a cute little, frilly pink dress that Nami had gotten her, and knew Sanji was anxious for everyone to meet the both of you properly. Of course, you'd been with the Straw Hats already when you'd been by and recruited Sanji, but things had moved so fast back then that formal introductions were an afterthought. Now that Sanji was back with you as his wife and with his little daughter, it was definitely nerve-wracking for him.

Well, it was until the three of you stepped inside and all the chefs quickly rushed to see Angel, all of them fawning over and doting on her. Almost all his nerves went away as Patty, Carne, and the others tearfully loved on your daughter and introduced themselves to both of you properly. Angel became shy with so many new faces, reaching for Sanji to take her from you which he did, and she hid her face in his shoulder.

"Aww come on little one, what's wrong?"

"She's just overwhelmed. It's too many people at once."

Hearing that, most of the Baratie chefs dissipated in order to let Angel relax again, the only one coming up to the three of you was Zeff himself, bringing back Sanji's nerves.

"Well, the baby eggplant has his own baby eggplant now."

"Watch your mouth with my daughter, crap geezer." The smiles on both their faces told you all was well, this was the norm between Sanji and Chef Zeff. Sanji got Angel's attention to get her to lift her face from his shoulder, pointing her view to Zeff. "This is your grandad, Angel."

Angel blinked a little, not the slightest bit scared and reached for Zeff, knowing it was safe because Sanji said so. Once Zeff had a hold of her, Angel just smiled and giggled, giving him a loose hug. It made him turn away from both of you, confusing you the most, until you heard Carne shout that Zeff was crying again and got to be the first to hold Angel. You laughed when you noticed Sanji had turned away as well, fighting his own tears. The rest of your visit was less tearful, filled more with laughter while everyone entertained Angel and you told all the stories you had of her up until then. You did also learn that Zeff kept every picture you sent of her in his room, a fact that made Sanji happier than you could have imagined.

After your visit back to Baratie, you kept in touch by sending more pictures, even a few letters telling stories of what Angel was learning and how well she was growing.

The last three years had changed so much, you and Sanji couldn't imagine life without your little angel.

"[Y/N], mon amour! Angel, my dearest!!"

"Daddy!!" Angel's bright [e/c] eyes lit up, squealing when Sanji came over to the both of you, providing you with a drink and snack, and Angel with her favorite snack of apple juice and carrots.

"I've got your drinks and snacks for the day!" He gave you both the most loving smile, making you return it and Angel giggled.

"Say thank you daddy!"

"Thank youuu!"

Clutching his heart, Sanji still couldn't believe his luck, even after all this time. Seven years married to you, three years of life as a father. The amount of love he had for you two made it feel like his heart was going to burst out of his chest most days.

"Oh, my beautiful girls!! What gods did I please to deserve you?! I love you both so much!!"

You laughed a bit, taking a sip of your fruity water and rubbing your slightly swollen stomach. "What're you gonna do if this one's a boy?"

"Oh, that's easy," Sanji gave you a loving smile while he picked Angel up as she requested, "I'll love him as much as I love you both."

"Have you thought about what I said? For a name?"

Nodding, Sanji sat beside you on the lounger with Angel still in his arms, her grabbing her sippy cup and a baby carrot.

"I have, and I think…I'll take you up on it this time."

Smiling, you gave a slight nod, before kissing his cheek with a hand still on your stomach.

"Sora it is then."

A few months later, you ended up having a little boy with your hair and Sanji's eyes, and Angel was absolutely in love with her baby brother once Sanji introduced him to her. Your crewmates once again were beyond happy for you, and you just couldn't imagine your life turning out any other way.

[fraugwinska]

Minors DNI - 18+ - Explicit Sexual Content - 4,6k words Attention: Mentions of fictional Witchcraft and Voodoo (I know this is a very sensitive topic, which is why I threaded very vaguely and lightly. I mean absolutely NO disrespect to either of those spiritualities)

Master of Puppets

You paced nervously through your room. The clock ticked the safe seconds away, the seconds Alastor where wasn't here. The seconds where Alastor didn't know.

He liked you, of course. At least enough to experiment with you, that much you could say with confidence. He had shown interest in the little witch inventor that joined the hotel, sharing the same proficiency in magic as himself. Although, unlike him, you had been an eclectic witch in your lifetime, and used more traditional western magic, whereas Alastor wasn't familiar with that, relying fully on voodoo practices he learned from the women of his family. So, you taught him and he taught you, and over the shared hours of lessons, discussions and practices, things got more and more... handsy. Until one day even the last gap between you was closed, and before both of you knew it you were sharing a bed more often than a book on sigils or rituals.

It was a mutual thing. You were insanely attracted to him, and he liked you well enough to indulge in activities he'd normally frown upon. Which made you feel special - It didn't soothe the nerves though, as you fumbled around with the little objects in the black carved box, making sure everything was perfect, before hastily slamming it shut when you heard knocks on the door.

"Yes?" you said, as if you hadn't been expecting him, as if your heart wasn't trying to leap out of your chest.

"Darling, it's me! May I come in?" you heard him say, and the door opening before you could answer. "I hope I'm not too early."

You turned around, giving him a shy smile after glancing at the clock on the wall. "You're right on time, as always."

"Punctuality is one of the only virtues I try uphold." He took a few steps towards you. "Is everything alright? You look nervous."

"Do I? It's... Nothing. I just have... I'm excited for something to show to you."

"Really?" He was intrigued, leaning in a little. "Well, now I'm curious. Is it the skinning spell you've been working on? I might have some test subjects in mind, if you are already finished."

You cleared your throat, feeling your heart beating painfully in your chest. "Not quite. I made something new, though."

"Oh?" he said, tilting his head to the side. "What is it?"

You fidgeted, not knowing how to start, how to ease him into it. He was a man that didn't appreciate if one beat around the bush, so better to rip the band-aid off in one violent, leap-of-faith-kind of way. You went to the black box, fingers trembling as you lifted the golden hatch, and before you could change your mind and call the whole thing off you scooped the small voodoo dolls out and held them out to him.

"I made these. For you... Us."

He was taken aback for a moment, not saying anything as he stared at the two little cloth figures, then down at you. They were intricately made replicas of you both, you had spent hours and hours sewing them, even going so far as to design and make identical outfits for them. He took both of them out of your hands, turning them slowly in his own, examining them with a frighteningly unreadable look.

"So you solely tried your hands on my profession I see. Why?" his eyes were boring into you, the smile on his face tight and tense, and you had to fight yourself not to stutter.

"I-I figured..." You swallowed hard. "I thought it could help us to... to be closer. More connected, in a way. And I thought you would like to... try this."

He blinked slowly, and the grin he wore stretched a bit further, the static getting louder in your ears. You were starting to think he didn't like it. You were starting to regret this.

"It is an unusual gift." His voice was calm, laced with a hint of curiosity, but you still couldn't relax. "Quite a surprise, too."

"Is that good or bad?" you asked, and he chuckled softly.

"I don't know, darling. That depends on how it will be used." He holds up your miniature, his brows raised expectantly. "Tell me how it works."

"Uh... Well, it's more of a mix between your and my magic. T-they have some of my spells sewn into them, and then I enchanted them on your altar. All that's left to do is to tie a hair around the neck of it and offer a drop of blood, and... we will be able to feel anything that's done to the doll."

"Feel?" He cocked his head to the side, eyes gleaming with dark excitement.

"Anything." Your throat was dry, the words almost catching there.

"That sounds positively delightful."

Your heart did a flip in your chest as his voice lowered into a purr, his eyes fixed on the tiny you, the static rising around him. He was captivated, but also suspicious, and that didn't make your anxiety lessen one bit. More so as he found the red stain on your dolls chest and the shimmer of a hair around its neck. Your version of a peace offering.

"It seems this little thing is already prepared and ready to use, isn't it, dearest?" he hummed, looking at you, the smile stretching wide and showing his sharp teeth.

"Yes... if you wanted to... see how it worked first. To decide whether you want to give it a try."

He laughed, and the sound made you shiver. There was no humor in it, but sheer anticipation. Hunger. "Well then. Better not waste such a generous opportunity."

He sat his own replica down on the nightstand next to your bed, and settled down on the mattress, patting the spot next to him for you to join. You did, sitting as stiff as a board, your eyes trained on him as he looked down at your little doll. He seemed to contemplate for a moment, before running his fingers across the doll's body, and you gasped.

All your hard work evidently payed off - The touch felt eerily real. Warm, like the heat of his hands was spreading all over you, a soft caress up the middle of your stomach, a tickle around your waist. His fingertips traveled upward, pressing softly against your chest, and your breath stocked in your lungs.

"You've really outdone yourself with this one darling. So receptive..." Alastor's smile widened into a full grin, and the fact that he didn't need to touch your skin to see the blush creeping across your cheeks was one detail he seemed to particularly enjoy. The rough feeling of his claws grating against you was replaced with the hot touch of phantom lips, pressing gently against your neck as he pulled the small shirt collar aside, his tongue licking across the doll's shoulder.

The sensation almost felt out of place in comparison, making you fall onto your back with a gasp, into the soft covers of your bed, unable to maintain any sort of composure. Instead of feather light touches, his mouth felt way heavier on your skin than it should. Warm, wet... As he scraped his teeth along the little doll's neck, a low moan slipped between your lips.

"And what attention to details. It's almost a shame to ruin your hard work, but oh well."

His eyes stayed on you as he hooked a fingertip under the dolls garments, cutting it clean off of it, and even though yours stayed fully intact - what you were feeling was a whole different story. Your eyes betrayed you: Even fully clothed you felt the cool air of your room on your skin, you felt exposed, bare and utterly vulnerable. It made your skin break out in goosebumps and your lips part in an unstifled sound of arousal.

"Gorgeous, darling... Absolutely wonderful. A truly masterful piece of magic." The tone of his voice was tingling all over you, a mixture of warm affection and dark cravings. You had never been one to enjoy being praised by a man, but it made you close your eyes and squirm with absolute and desperate need when it came from Alastor. Mouth already open to say something, the words died in your throat, replaced by a high whine when you felt a wet sensation traveling over your stomach down to the inside of your thighs. Your eyes snapped open, finding Alastor's again, his irises practically glowing and locked on you as he ran his tongue all the way across the small body. Teasing. Playing. He narrowed his eyes and traced every curve with the same meticulous patience you knew him for, the sensation sending shocks of excitement and adrenaline through you as it circled the dolls skin, drawing closer and closer to the most intimate parts, until there was nowhere else to trail, nowhere else for it to run to. He stopped, leaving you flushed and panting and shattered next to him on the bed.

"My, my, sweetheart..." he cooed, poking the little doll in his hands into it's side with the softest touch, making you jerk into his side. "At this rate, this seems more like a gift for you than for me."

The blush on your face deepened and you averted your eyes. "...You're probably not wrong."

"No, I'd say I am absolutely right," he chuckled, shifting closer and tracing a hand up your body and to your throat in a smooth motion, and your body arched into the touch with the ease of a moth to flame. For a moment, he didn't move, resting his claws wrapped around your neck, his fingertips heavy on your skin. He seemed to weight his options, deciding on how to proceed. Finally, he leaned into you, bringing his lips closer to yours and when he spoke it was barely a whisper.

"I'll trust you to rectify this circumstance then."

Your eyes widened when he stood up, gently placing your doll down and switching its place with his own. You sat up, watching how he carefully plucked a hair from his head, wrapping it tightly around the neck of his miniature alter ego. It looked almost sinfully elegant and downright seductive, how his long fingers tied it tightly, before he turned back to you, his grin splitting his face in half. There was something in his expression you haven't seen before - hesitancy. It was only a second, but you still held your breath as it passed, and he chuckled as he bit his lip, dark, almost black blood dripping onto the chest of the doll in his hands.

"A rare occasion for me to spill blood. I hope you'll make it worth it."

You swallowed heavily and he grinned, reaching for your hand and gently putting the doll on your palm, giving you a stern, commanding look. "My turn."

You nodded as he settled himself on your bed, now stretching himself fully on the mattress. Lifting your other hand you carefully laid one finger on top of his dolls' throat, before drawing your fingers across and down, over its chest and its sides, making his form shiver and his ears twitch. As you undid the small coat and shirt, dragging your nail gently over the dolls abdomen, Alastor gave a resounding, pleased sigh. You stared at him in wonder of your own work, silently asking yourself if your touches on the fabric in your hands felt as intensified as his did on yours before.

With a spark of nervous excitement you followed a whim of insanity, a quick glance confirming Alastor had his eyes closed. He had never before allowed you to touch his ears - now, their artificial counterparts were at your fingertips, and with a racing heart, you drew a stroke from the base of his ear right across its entire length, all the way until the fine point. A loud, drawn-out groan filled the room and your cheeks burnt crimson when his back arched and his hands twitched towards you, the knuckles white as he clenched them into fists, a tremor going through his shoulders. The groan ended in a long whine, the eyes snapping open and locking right into yours, and your breath hitched as you saw the smoldering embers. His grin grew tighter, strained, and he inhaled deeply through his nostrils, and the intensity of his gaze made your stomach drop, your whole body feeling exposed and naked despite still being fully dressed.

"Testy little thing. Always going for most dangerous experiments..." He shook his head as he exhaled slowly, his breath ragged and labored and in the soft illumination of your bedside lamp his neck was dusted a light pink. You marveled for a second, mesmerized. That was, until his tone dropped an octave, making your body snap back to attention, your nipples hardening painfully beneath your clothes. "How about another then, darling. You do that again..." His shadow tendrils shot out from nowhere, wrapping around your waist and thighs and lifting you over his face as you yelped and almost let the doll slip from your hands, the hem of your skirt pushed aside and heated core right above his watering mouth. "...while I do this."

With no time left for a reply, you felt your flimsy panties flicked aside and your body lowered onto his waiting tongue, all thought replaced by a sudden wave of blinding ecstasy. There was something truly addicting about the heat and hunger of his lips, the way they locked around your clit and sucked you down in the best form of torturous pain like life depended on it, his nails digging into your hips with force, while your brain was practically erasing every input but the burning sensation below. The doll in your hands, pressed to your heaving chest, was long forgotten as your head fell back and each swipe of his cursed appendix sent a shockwave through your spine. You groaned, you whimpered, and Alastor could taste the waves of delicious agony on his tongue. When he withdrew, the loss of his wet heat and the chill of the cool air against your slick folds made you almost break out in tears.

"Focus, dearest, on the task I gave you. Or do I have to repeat myself?"

The growl in his voice snapped you out of it and made you take a shaky breath before you finally composed yourself. Your fingers trembled as they grazed the tips of the dolls ears again, your movements almost trance like as your whole body yearned for it to return onto his lips. Alastor's brows furrowed, lips pursed for a second as you drew a slow, sensual line up the miniatures length, stopping and softly kneading at the pointed tip.

"Good girl." he murmured, voice breathy, and for a second you could have sworn you saw his eye twitch, though his grin stayed firmly plastered onto his face. His words sent an instantaneous warmth pooling in your lower stomach, and your chest fluttered as you tried to swallow down the intense elation that shot through your veins at those words - the same words Alastor used when you mastered one of his magical exercises, and although the praise was always flattering, in this context it felt downright lewd and utterly divine to be called that. When your hand lowered a bit, massaging the base of the dolls ears, Alastor's noises became low growls and deep purrs around the wet skin his lips devoured. The black vines on your waist and legs tightened their grip as well, pushing you deeper down onto his mouth.

You hadn't even registered what happened, but with a snap your top was ripped in the front, the clasp of your bra followed, and the familiar humming sound of his static made you squeal in surprise when his voice was suddenly much louder, his tongue shoved into you as far as he could go and his shadows ripping your clothes off at lightning speed. With both hands stroking, massaging and pulling the dolls ears now, the pure pleasure hitting you was almost too much, but as much as your hands ached for the real thing, to run your nails over the red fluff and trace the soft curves and edges of the dark antlers growing on the sides of his head, all you could do was imagine, with all your fingers on the dolls soft material instead and moving furiously up and down its head, to do exactly the same thing.

Alastor growled underneath you, the sound deep and rumbling, sending vibrations through your trembling thighs and against your sensitive skin, and it sounded so much more desperate and disoriented than you had ever heard from him before. Had you been looking down, had you been able to see anything beyond the mind-shattering pleasure, the wide blown pupils and the unfocused gaze in the glowing red irises, you might have wondered why that was - Alastor's control was slipping, and his smile finally was showing that.

In an instant your body was turned and placed on your back, your limbs shaking in the grip of his shadows and body utterly at the mercy of the tall red man leaning over you and undoing his bow tie with the rapidity and precision of a professional magician. His hair had gotten a little ruffled in the process, and his red shirt hung open and wrinkled against his skin.

"A compelling exercise indeed, my dear." he spoke, the rasp in his tone and the ragged breath accentuating his words. With a swift movement his jacket joined the shirt and harness that already had been thrown onto the floor somewhere, and then the shadows were back and prodding against the soaked cloth, the only thing left around your hips. They snuck into every slit they could find, exposing more and more of you, while their owner's gaze hungrily devoured every bit of exposed skin. The stretchable fabric made for easy work, but you had the distinct feeling they wouldn't have needed it at all as the shadows literally dissolved every thread they encountered. Alastor reached for your replica again, seemingly collecting himself and catching his breath.

"You are quite talented, and it'll be a joy to discover what other marvels your mind can come up with." His claw dragged down over the dolls' hips, one set of real, the other set of simulated hands following it a millisecond after, right along your bare and barer sides, sending waves of anticipation down the inside of your thighs. In an instant, two very corporeal, long fingers were back between your folds, knuckle deep into your seeping core, and Alastor chuckled lowly at your surprised whine, the smug and devious purr rumbling in his chest as he took note of every twitch your body made to the tune of his strokes. "But I think it's about time to return the favor though, don't you agree?"

Still stroking that sweet spot inside of you with his fingers, the hand that held your puppet glowed in bright green, and in between your moans and pants your wide eyes can't tear themselves from the strange symbols that appear around it, swirling and sparkling. You've seen Alastor perform magic countless of times, have watched and marveled at every spell he cast and his flair for the dramatic was only matched by the elegance of his every motion. But this? This was something else. The nonchalance with which his fingers pumped in and out of you, working meticulously, tactically, teasing you and working you into a mess with such a proficiency while he traced symbols with his free hand and the script, the raw power of it, the surge you could feel radiating from him, all that and his unflinching composure drove you mad with both desire and fascination.

The light and the symbols faded, and in his hands - the puppet, similar yet not quite. It felt off, almost lifelike, the fabric more skin-like, and with a gasp, you saw..

"Let me now see, if my own little contribution can be counted as an improvement, my little witch."

If someone asked you later on what had actually happened, you couldn't have said a single word - it was too salacious, too outrageous, too much outside of what you had ever expected from Alastor. How could you ever recount the way he pulled his throbbing cock out with his free hand - thick, dripping with precum and inhumanly beautiful. How his fingers were guiding your tiny copy to align with its tip, while he never left your eyes, smile almost manic.

He made holes. And seconds later, when he slowly pushed the doll onto his length, with his fingers still buried deep inside you, you knew that they worked. Oh, and how they worked.

"Oh m-my... god..."

It was heaven and hell. Bliss and torture, the feeling abhorrently delicious. The magical connection allowed every ridge, vein and vibration of his cock to transfer perfectly through the dolls body to you, making you shudder and keen at the intensity, the sheer tightness, and simultaneously Alastor groaned - a broken, rugged sound, loud enough to make you glance up with misty eyes from your debauched position. Your insides clenched hard around his fingers and the ghost of his cock, your toes curling as you whimpered, a picture perfect representation of how utterly sinful he looked with his dark lashes resting on his red cheeks, eyes shut and the mouth agape as his chest was rising and falling, breaths coming hard and labored.

He noticed your raptured gaze, looking down at you through hooded eyes, his smile positively obscene.

"Mh, I like the way you pray on me instead of one of your silly deities, darling. But you can call me Alastor."

And oh, how it felt, when his hand closed tightly around the little voodoo doll that was stuffed so full of him. You arched your back and writhed against the firm hold the tentacles had on you, pressing your knees against the pillows as he pulled his drenched fingers out of you, bringing them up to his face to lick them clean. He groaned at the taste, closing his eyes and making an effort to concentrate, his control crumbling in tiny pebbles around you, and his hips started to snap, sheathing the miniature you further on his cock, thrusting in increasingly fast paced movements. A string of whimpers escaped you, his name spilling throughout them like a mantra, as you were unable to do much more but twitch, shake and tremble as his ministrations came faster, harder, and Alastor let his head fall back, baring his neck and swallowing.

"You're so-" He groaned, squeezing your dolls body, forcing it closer against him and sliding it off and back on at an excruciatingly slow pace, your moans climbing and escalating with every inch that moved through the magic veil and in and around your sopping center. "-goddamn perfect, perfectly made for me." Your body didn't know how to react anymore, you stuttered incoherently, everything full with his praise, with this cock that wasn't there but was, the heat that shouldn't have been possible to fill you but did. You felt every bit of skin and fur and sweat and the realization only dawned on you when it was already too late: That you were about to come harder than you ever did, and that Alastor was losing his mind just from watching your reactions to his assault on your doll.

"S-So tight and needy. What a perfect... little... toy you are." If they were meant for you below him or the doll in his hands - you didn't know. But the panted words and almost dirty, explicit praise spilled from his lips in a flurry, every syllable seemed strangely calculated, aimed like a dart straight into you and tearing down all defenses as your pussy twitched helplessly around the sensation of being stretched and fucked open on the image of his cock. When he chuckled and sank your doll to the base, grinding your little figure against him so the head of his cock poked and prodded you where it had never reached before, you all but screamed his name as you came, and your pathetic cries pulled a harsh string of groans and grunts out of the demon towering over you, his breathless cursing and rambled obscenities underlined by the vicious snaps of his hips as he used your simulacrum like a glorified sex toy. His nails pierced the outer layer of the doll as your walls constricted and contracted around the thick nothing as he finished you and himself off into the realm of oblivion.

Everything went white for a moment and when your senses returned, Alastor was carefully cradling you into his arms, the little replica sitting next to his own on your bedside table, their heads almost tenderly leaning on each other. He was gently raking his claws through your damp, disheveled hair, placing little kisses down the back of your neck and on the thin skin behind your ears as he mumbled silent praises against your skin. He kissed along your jaw, gentle as anything, a soft thumb grazing along your lips, cheeks and your temple as he traced the lines of your features until he found the pulse on your neck. The cold touch of his lips was a nice contrast to the hot breath, and you moaned softly at his affectionate gesture.

"It's never a disappointment with you, love, quite the contrary." He hummed, scraping his sharp teeth almost teasingly along the crook of your neck before kissing it, covering your skin with static electricity. "What a marvelous surprise you prepared for me, my dear, truly magical." His lips pressed into yours in a rare kiss, and you leaned back into his naked embrace and smiled, the giddy feeling of accomplishment spreading in your belly and mixing in beautifully with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

"I'm glad... you liked it."

"Oh, that is hardly the phrase I would use," Alastor chuckled as he pulled back, making you blush as his red iris glowed dangerously. "But you, my dear, will have a little work to do, seeing as I'm positively spoiled after this gift. You have no idea of the things I'm thinking about, all the possibilities of what we can accomplish if we put both our minds – and magic - to it."

Alastor pulled you into a tight embrace, rubbing his chin and cheeks across your scalp and shoulders, coating you with a generous amount of his scent as if to mark you before pulling the blankets up and covering the two of you as his arms locked around you possessively, letting you settle against his chest as he hummed a melody you didn't know. But you knew him well enough to know that it was a clear sign of him being absolutely pleased and content.

You smiled, his good mood infectious, and as you glanced to the two dolls that sat together like a matching pair, stripped of their clothes and as close together as you and the real demon were now under the sheets, it made you feel like the cat that ate the canary. The cat had been fed by Alastor, sure. But he had also had his fill and then some, and really... that was all that mattered to you.

[hoseoksluna]

ICHOR | jjk

pairing: idol!boyfriend!jungkook x f. reader

genre: fluff

word count: 2.4k

summary: after a bad day at work, you lose a sense of yourself and jungkook leads you right back to her.

warnings: crying, capitalism, death metaphors, sadness, jungkook is sweaty and is wearing that nike shirt he wore in his working out live, has fluffy hair!

note: hiii, bubbas, so this is fluff fic is partly for @frmisnow bc she inspired me to write this & i also want to make her feel better with this sacchariny-sweet jungkook, partly for me bc i genuinely wrote in detail about what i went through at work these past two days. and, also, for all you guys because i made you go through reading about such evil jungkook in my last berries fic. i hope you enjoy it, let me know what you think. here's to a bit of happiness in our lives *cheers with an imaginary glass of imaginary pink, glittery, strong, fairy alcohol*. <3

You used to be a goddess, the ichor in your veins carried the color of roses, glinted with flecks of gold that would radiate your skin from beneath, make any heads turn, especially the one you loved the most. Customers at work smiled upon seeing your cordial aura, close-knit even though they were mere strangers, preferred to go to you amidst the flock of your other colleagues around. They would become radiated just the same, joy so terribly evident on their faces as their smile would grow. They would frown upon seeing the state of you at this current moment—curled up on your bed while the heat of the beginning of the summer clings to your near bareness, coming through your wide opened windows, the white, translucent curtains billowing up and down in their strange, but magnolious dance. 

You’re not Aphrodite. You’re not Euphrosyne, the goddess of joy and mirth, either. 

You’re the slain fawn at their feet—for their very own feast and for the feast of those aforementioned customers, who stand behind the dryly bloodied cause of your death. 

Work was hell, to say the least. 

You always thought death was a kind embrace, not a tight clasp of doom around the nape of your neck, your mental strain and disquietude the half moon marks that ever so slowly deepen. You mimic the movement on the hem of the linen shirt you wore for the day, one that you were too drowsy to take off when you arrived at home, having only a slight wisp of an energy to rid yourself of the uncomfortable tightness of your jeans and crawl onto your bed, knees to chest, on your side. You bunch up the fabric in your fist, wrinkling it, but you hardly vanquish the cuts that your anxiety slashes on your skin. You thought it would alleviate you of your tenseness, but as it seems—it only worsened it. 

You don’t even have tears to shed. Wept them all out in your manager’s office while she harshly, yet calmly reprimanded you for your mistake and the gravity of the fact that you almost lost your precious job, that you can’t imagine living without, washed over you and pained you like a splash of salty water in your eyes. Wept them all out when you breathed in the crooked, paralyzed expression of disappointment in her face—and that’s the sole thing that emptied out your system of that ichor, wiped out your reputation of being a good, reliable employee that everybody liked. 

Now the next unfolding of your days spent at work shall be filled with silent judgements and secretive gossip, the big talk of the entire building—something that will hang by the strands of your hair for every head to turn to until something else comes along. Another topic, another fuck-up. That’s the face of modern capitalism, the absurdity of day-to-day normalcy its features, and you’re so sick, so repulsed to be staring at it every single day of your life that you yearn to not be anymore. 

Death has flattened over you, but has not finished its job. It was Dante who described the process of hell in his Divine Comedy and you hate him for the rotten pulchritude of his mind because you find yourself to be standing in the middle of inferno with no guide—no Virgil, no Beatrice—to hold your hand and lead you through this scalding maze. You’re all alone, your mistake carving the branches of the trees burning down in your hell over your burdened, heavy heart that has been longing for the company of another ever since you walked out of your manager’s office. 

Your face screws as another agonized emotion rises in you. You can’t stand your aloneness, can’t stand your burden—and before you realize what you’re doing, your fingers have already tapped on your boyfriend’s name in your history of calls. The screen of your phone is cool against the fever of your cheek and you rub your face harder against your duvet, staining the strawberry pattern with the particular tinge of your makeup, which must have been the color of your ichor. 

You wince, the rings prolonging in your ear, your impatience running thin. 

Then, your heart drops once you hear the broken whisper of your Beatrice, faintly, barely, which causes your heart to spread its longing. Damn iPhones and their bad service. 

“Jungkook?” you call out, nonsense coming through the other end—and you repeat his name until his voice smooths out, relief sinking in like a stone in a pond. 

It turns out you were exchanging each other’s names and the intimacy of it curls the smallest of smiles on your mouth. You miss him; you need him. 

“When are you coming home?” you ask, wishing to descend into the emitting waves of the call, slide through them until you spring to wherever he is, no matter how tired you are—you’re willing to cross the distance. 

You hear him turn on his blinker and your heart almost does it for you. 

“I’m driving home right now. I’ll be there in ten,” he says and your relief expands in your chest, taking a small weight off of your heart. You place your palm against it. 

“Okay.” 

A beat of silence. 

“Why do you sound so sad?” 

Your mouth curls downwards. “Something happened at work.” 

An inhale of breath. “Screw that, baby. I’ll be there in five, okay?” 

A whimper. “Okay, drive safe.” 

And your Beatrice didn’t lie to you. Soon, you hear the banging of the front door closing, the tossing of his keys and the prodding open of your shared bedroom door. The hastened footsteps, hefty on the floating floor, the squeak of the mattress as his knee dips on it and the glide of his hand up your thigh. All before you use the last of your strength to focus your swimming vision on him. 

Hearing him alone helped you take a step further in your inferno. 

And then you can smell him. The scent of sweat clinging to his favorite ivory Nike shirt, interlaced with his natural, poetic scent, creating something divine that blesses you with the strength to place your palm on top of his hand. Your coworkers hugged you earlier, clasped your hands in theirs in reassurement and more than welcome it, you absolutely despised it. Lingered in their affection only because you thought you should let yourself be consoled, for you know they care about you. But his touch… that’s not something you sense your body to want to run away from. On the contrary, it seems to be something that it’s missing. 

You can’t part the stream of your new tears with your other hand. 

You spill, completely. 

Jungkook coos, squeezing the bare flesh of your thigh as turns you onto your back and nudges himself between them, plopping his body on top of yours. And then, he’s kissing the place your undone shirt made for him, trailing his lips up your neck, where he stays, where he conjures a garden of fluttering gardenias, their tender petals tickling you. 

“What did they do to my princess?” he murmurs against your skin, his words muffled but heard clearly by your ears. You sob, your chest shuddering in violent staccatos against his, unable to settle, unable to speak. Jungkook lifts his small head and frowns, his thumb swiping your tears away while the rest of his four fingers cradle your cheek. You lean into the balmy safety of the realm of his palm, gaze fixed on the wrinkle between his brows, mouth letting out puffs of soft, gentle exhales. He kisses your chin, the corner of your mouth, the wetness of your other cheek—buries his nose into it, right beside yours, inhaling you, giving you fresh air to breathe in. “Don’t cry. I’m gonna decapitate them.” 

The whisper, the hand that parted the stream. You whimper and he steals the traces of your despondency, pecking the new, smooth surface, planting roses to bloom, its roots bestowing you with the ability of speech. 

Two sentences, two miles further in the inferno. Your burnt down trees are lost in the far distance, swallowed by the fire, yet the forest shows every sign of growing anew the longer Jungkook’s heart beats against your breast. 

He’s so benevolently patient with you, not rushing you with your explanation. It all the more drives you to disclose it to him—and you open your mouth to speak, your fingers following suit, helping you with your words as you drag them through the soft mop of his fluffy hair. 

“I made a mistake yesterday while closing up,” you croak out, licking your lips. Jungkook lifts himself onto his elbows, clutching your shoulders, keeping the close proximity intact. His warm grip is a stability you lean on, one you appreciate with every broken shard in you. “I did it five minutes earlier and somebody came in. I sent them away and they filed a complaint against me. They wrote an email to my manager and I… I almost lost my job.”

The wrinkle between his brows deepens and you thumb it, wishing it away. You don’t want to mar his beautiful face because of your foolishness; you want it to remain that soft ball of light that he always is, but then you realize you’re asking for the impossible. His mouth flattens, pity flashes across his round eyes, which helps you perceive that if he didn’t react like this, he wouldn’t love you—and his love is the air you breathe; his love is the ointment you need for your sadness. 

As if he heard you, he kisses you delicately and you sail—skip the purgatory and land in paradiso, a meadow of wildflowers overlooking a cliff that opens the restfulness of the sea, scattered with windswept petals of those lost blossoms, coloring the surface with pinks, whites and the greens of their leaves. 

“Did your manager yell at you?” Jungkook questions, his lips lifted a millimeter above yours, his thumbs fondling the fabric of your shirt upon your shoulders. 

“No, but she was very strict with me. Told me not to cry—”

His breath wafts over your face when he looks into your eyes, displeased. “She made you cry?” 

You cried because through her words you comprehended the gravity of your mistake and its repercussions, not because she deliberately used them to open the dam of your emotions. It’s precisely why she told you not to cry, giving you a hint of her perpetually nonexistent compassion. And you tell him. 

“No, she didn’t. She was very professional with me and made me realize what I did after I apologized. I cried because I was so scared of losing my job, of disappointing her and shit like that.” 

Jungkook purses his lips, shaking his head, curly strands rippling like the tremor of leaves. “She should’ve dropped it after you apologized. Five minutes is nothing, baby. You did nothing to deserve to be treated like that.” 

Your chest heaves, his love and reassurement sifting sand into your bloodstream, the color of ichor. “I know but… you know,” you trail off, indicating the realm of respect all peers must have for the management that you don’t really want to venture into, not when Jungkook had to deal with it as well in his music company. But unlike you, he broke out of its clutches. It cost him tears, frustration and weight loss, but now he’s a free bird of paradise. You don’t wish to make him remember his cage. 

Jungkook sighs. “Yeah, baby, I know, which is why I’m telling you that you didn’t deserve that.” 

Your chin quivers, the negative thoughts that wore you down in his absence returning at full speed. “It affects my mental health when I’m bad at my job.” 

Brows rounding upwards, his eyes flick to your chin, a glossy wetness coating them. He pecks it before he gazes into your irises. “But you’re not bad at your job. You just closed a few minutes earlier. You’re amazing at your job. You make people happy. I’ve seen it with my own eyes,” he says, meaning every word with the way he presses each one into your pupils. You feel its magnetism and you take it. “And I’m proud of you. Every day. You work so hard. Come home tired every day. Deal with people who aren’t always nice to you with kindness that I envy. I’m proud of you, you hear me? You didn’t make a mistake. You did good.”

And there it is, the stampede of your bloodstream—Jungkook has seeped the entirety of the sand until he emptied out his hand and your ichor charges forward, its light like a bud flaring open beneath your skin. And you're floating on that sea in paradiso, your braid adorned with the wet petals that swims back and forth to his arm that holds your body steady upon the surface, the names of the Greek goddesses lining every perimeter, sinking within. 

You’ve become them, all over again. 

“Thank you, Ggukie,” you whisper, running your hand through the front bangs of his hair, gripping them. It’s as if you’re holding the petals. “I needed to hear that.” 

He pouts, touched by the love name. “I know. You need to rest now after such an emotionally exhausting day. No more tears, okay?” 

You nod, feeling whole, feeling like you can face tomorrow with more courage. “Okay.” 

You pout, mimicking him, asking for a kiss and he gives it to you in that same delicate manner, plunging the entirety of the summer’s heat, molded by his hands, into you, making it bearable for you. 

Looks at you for a long time, after. Smiling. 

“You know, I didn’t take a shower after the gym for you,” he says, quirking a smile on your face.

You’re intimately acknowledged with the reason why, yet still you ask: “Why’s that?” 

He reciprocates the smile. “I thought you’d help me wash up. My muscles are sore and all. I lifted the double amount of your body weight.” 

You bite your lip. You’re willing to wash every inch of him with your utmost care. You deem he deserves it for enlivening you, but you’d much rather stay here, inhaling that dizzying scent of him. 

“I’ll do that, but let’s stay here for a little while.” 

Jungkook nods, kissing your jaw before he finds a comfortable place on your bosom, listening to the rush of your ichor, the sun rays upon the sea of that paradiso, inching you closer and closer to God. Augments the ending of that Divine Comedy. 

Doesn’t lead you to the final installment of death, but pushes you to life full of that brisk wind, the humming of the sea and the song of swaying wildflowers. 

Holds your hand. 

Doesn’t let go. 

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth.

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved

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[mostly-imagines]

🌻 anon here

The last few days I stumbled into a few posts about Jason having +18 pics of reader in his phone and I just can't stop thinking "would he tho??" Like would he trust enough his device to have r18 pictures of the one he love and literally worship in his phone??? Knowing he knows damn well how easy it is nowadays to get those types of pictures through hack and stuff??

And I'm not saying he would share the pics, HELL NO he would never. But because I don't think he would trust his phone -and also because it cracks me up- I imagine him having a Polaroid to take the pics. The photos get printed automatically and if he have to he can't literally burn those without having to overthink about someone hacking his phone.

Like can you imagine him just casually take a Polaroid you didn't know where there out his nightstand and taking a pics of you while you reaching your peak??

Anyways all of that just to ask what one of my fav Jason writers would think about the whole Jason having spicy pics of you in this phone

18+

i’ve honest to god been thinking about this non stop since you sent it sunny

i think you're dead on, jason's protective streak rings too loud in his mind to ever take the chance of someone else maybe seeing those photos of you. personally, i’m of the belief that he uses his phone for the most practical purposes only and that his photo gallery is borderline empty, with few exceptions of nondescript images. like the only pictures of you on his phone don’t show your face or any revealing information about you. yeah, he’s a little paranoid in that way but it just makes his alternative that much more interesting.

there’s also something about it that feels more personal, more intimate. there’s not a chance in hell those photos are going near another person and he likes the idea that you’re giving him this amount of vulnerability and trust.

i also think he is an avid supporter of your personal autonomy and feels better knowing that if you want a picture gone, all you have to do is burn it and it's gone forever. he doesn't really like the idea that so many things on electronics can be spread or seen without you even knowing, so he's perfectly fine to stash a few polaroids in unsuspecting places.

he’d be really hesitant to ask you the first time, he was worried he’d make you uncomfortable or that you’d think it was weird. the thought initially came about after he’d gone on an away mission that lasted twice as long as it was supposed to and he was bordering on losing it without a single image of you. that, and frankly, he was stressed and he has never experienced a stress relief quite like you.

so the night he comes back he’s kissing you hard and rubbing up against you, but all he can think about is how badly he wants to capture all your facial expressions and imagery he couldn’t stop imagining while he was gone.

he breaks away from your lips breathlessly, “can I take a picture of you?”

you give him a bemused look, “what? like, now?”

he fiddles with the waistband of your underwear, not making eye contact. “well…in a few minutes..”

his timorous disposition gives you a solid clue of what he means and you smile up at him. “yeah?”

he finally meets your eyes, looking hopeful. “is that alright?”

“of course,” you nod and he leans back down against you, lips meeting your pulse point. “what brought this on?”

he noses at your neck, “jus’ missed you. a lot.”

you nod, pulling back and running a finger down to the tip of his nose. “take as many as you want.”

and he did.

his favorite pics are the ones he takes right when you cum, lips slightly parted, brow pinched. he’s also fond of the moments right when you’re just starting to feel it.

the photos of you on your knees, trying to take him in your mouth as much as you can really do something to him. your eyes watering and you holding his hand for support. he has to pace himself when he looks at those, especially the ones where you’re looking up at the camera.

he doesn’t usually like to be in the pictures, other than his dick in/against you or his hand splayed across your stomach or neck. he also has one or two where you’re riding him and his free hand is on your hip guiding you.

you’d have to be having a particular kind of sex for it to even occur to him to stop and take pictures. it only really happens during the easy times, when you’re both just having fun more than anything. it’s then when he’s really able to take his time with you and savor things, which is why the majority of your polaroids are taken then. he’s also more likely to be in a teasing mood then and not in a particular rush to get you where you’re going. a lot of those pictures show you smiling and completely relaxed which is another reason why he tends to revere those moments.

a grade A way to make him feel better after a long week is leaving him some surprise polaroids in the stash, it makes him crazy. he’s honestly just really obsessed with the idea that you trust him so much with those kinds of photos that you’d go out of your way to take some for him when he’s not even there. i actually think that’s at least half of what turns him on so much about the whole thing, the trust that you place in him and only him to not only see you in those moments but also relive them afterwards. just pics of you in lingerie or even just one of his shirts—it’s over for him.