#boudoir photography ideas

[picsera]

Boudoir Photos

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[mystoryboudoir]

Bridal Boudoir Photo Idea

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[ktsboudoirmagazine]

Boudoir lighting is a method that may turn a plain snapshot into an enthralling and appealing work of art. The appropriate lighting may elevate the mood, draw attention to the subject's characteristics, and create an intimate environment that emanates confidence and sensuality.

Visit website for more details - KTS Boudoir Magazine.

[wholoveseggs]

Could you possibly write something with Elijah and boudoir??

I had the idea of the reader being best friends with Rebekah and Rebekah brings up the idea to her as a gift for Elijah and reader agrees. When she gets the photos back she ends up slipping them to him randomly during the day to get him worked up,, like at the breakfast table, while he’s reading, while he’s in his study working, ect ect. And finally he ends up snapping and he ends up punishing her for getting him all worked up… maybe with some spanking?? Then she gives him the photo album and he admires all the photos while cuddling?

If not,, that’s totally fine, please don’t write anything you’re not comfortable with!! I love your writing!!

Polaroids

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Elijah Mikaelson x f!reader} Hidden in his suits, tucked in his ties. Each scandalous polaroid Elijah finds drives him closer to the edge… until he finally snaps.

♡♡ Thank you for the lovely request darling anon!!! This is a late valentines day gift to you && all my beautiful followers ~xo ♡♡

4.8k words - Warnings: smutt, teasing, sexual tension, lingerie kink, boudoir photography, Elijah losing his legendary patience, spanking, an awkward family dinner, Rebekah being mischievous, Elijah's walk-in closet (a sacred space), && a dirty limerick ...

Elijah is a man of many layers, secrets within secrets, locked away behind centuries of careful control. He valued privacy, he valued discretion, and most of all. He valued you.

You had been dating for years now. He knew you inside and out. Or at least, he thought so.

It was almost Valentine's Day, and you had a special surprise planned.

It was a bit unusual for you to be so open about these kinds of things. You were private. More private than him, even. He never would have asked you to do something like this, not in a million years. And that’s why it was the perfect gift.

Rebekah had sparked the idea, encouraging you to go all out. Professional makeup, high-end lingerie, lighting, everything. She insisted on being the one to take the photographs, partly because she was better at it than any photographer you could hire and partly because she was the only person you trusted enough to see you in the state that you would be in.

At first, you both couldn’t stop giggling. It was awkward, playful, and you kept messing up every other pose. But soon enough, with Rebekah’s expert guidance, the session took on a sultry rhythm. By the time it was over, your cheeks burned from more than just laughter.

You were a little apprehensive when the prints came back. The images were intimate, and you knew that the moment you slipped the polaroid's into the pockets of your boyfriend’s suits, you would be signing him up for the most torturous few days of his life.

And it would all be worth it.

So, so, so worth it.

Elijah’s sense of fashion and style had always been immaculate. From the moment you met him, you had been drawn to the way he dressed.

The way he would take his time picking out his suits. The way his fingers skimmed over fabric, thoughtful, methodical. You thought it was cute that he liked to match his pocket square to his tie and his socks. It was the little things that made him endearing.

Which was why you had to wait until he was out to sneak into his closet. The one place no one but him was allowed to enter.

You felt like a teenager, sneaking around. His closet was locked, but you knew where to find the key. Hidden in his underwear drawer.

With shaking hands, you unlocked the door and stepped inside, exhaling softly at the sight before you.

His closet was nothing short of opulent. Dark mahogany wood gleamed under the soft recessed lighting, every shelf, drawer, and rack meticulously arranged. The rich scent of cedar and his cologne lingered in the air. A lush rug stretched across the floor, muffling your footsteps as you wandered deeper inside.

Your fingers trailed over the polished surface of the central island, where rows of ornate, vintage cufflinks sat nestled in velvet-lined drawers, each one a tiny work of art. You knew Elijah had collected them over the centuries, tiny fragments of history locked away in his closet like the rest of his carefully preserved past.

You could have spent hours just admiring the contents of his closet, marveling at his taste in clothing and accessories. It was like a museum of men’s fashion, every outfit an exhibit.

But today, you had a mission. You had spent weeks planning it, and now that it was finally here, you were equal parts nervous and excited.

Slipping your hand into the silk pouch you brought with you, you pulled out the first polaroid .

It was one of your favorites. Your body stretched out on the bed in nothing but the sheer, lacy red set Rebekah had picked out, soft lighting casting shadows over the curves of your thighs and the swell of your breasts. Your lips were slightly parted, eyes half-lidded as if waiting for someone. Waiting for him.

Smiling to yourself, you wandered over to where his suit jackets hung. Your fingers ghosted over the smooth lapels. A charcoal gray, a deep navy, a crisp black. Every piece, tailored to perfection.

Your eyes scanned the row, searching for the perfect jacket. You settled on one of your favorites. A midnight blue with a subtle herringbone pattern woven through the interior fabric.

Elijah wore this one often, and the idea of him wearing it again while the photo sat tucked safely away made your heart flutter with anticipation.

Carefully, you slid the photo into the inner breast pocket, smoothing out the fabric so there was no trace of it.

Next, you moved to his drawer of perfectly folded trousers. You slipped another polaroid into the pocket of his favorite charcoal slacks. This one of you kneeling on the floor, your hands behind your back, wearing nothing but a thong and an expression of pure obedience on your face.

He was going to lose his mind when he found that one.

One by one, you continued your game, tucking a scandalous little piece of yourself into his daily wardrobe. A black-and-white photo of you reclining in his chair, wearing only his dress shirt. ..Unbuttoned, of course...Went into his favorite black blazer.

Another, of you perched on his desk with your legs spread just enough to tease, slipped into his coat.

Finally, you approached the island in the center of the room, where his drawer of ties sat waiting.

You had saved the most provocative ones for last.

A dark navy tie caught your eye. It had tiny little hearts stitched on the inside fabric. The kind of thing he would wear for valentines day, a subtle touch no one else would see.

You reached out, gently lifting the tie from its place.

This one was special. This was the tie you were going to put the last photo in.

And the final photo… was truly the pièce de résistance.

You were fully bare, stretched across his bed on your stomach, ass in the air, a red heart-shaped buttplug nestled between your cheeks. Your face was turned to the side, biting your lower lip.

You had a feeling this was the one that was going to break him.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you carefully slid the photo into the interior lining of the tie, tucking it away so it was completely hidden. He would most likely find it when he was adjusting his tie, perhaps even in the middle of something important.

Your cheeks flushed, and you couldn't help the giggle that escaped your lips as you imagined his reaction.

For now, all you could do was wait. And when Elijah found them? Oh, he was going to make you pay for it.

Dinner at the Mikaelson estate was, as always, a grand affair, even if it was just a normal day. The dining room was dimly lit by the warm glow of the chandelier, the long mahogany table set with crystal glasses and fine silverware, an assortment of dishes spread elegantly before them.

Klaus was already half a bottle deep into a vintage red, while Kol swirled his own glass with a knowing smirk. Rebekah sat across from Elijah, offering him a look that was just a bit too smug for his liking.

He ignored her.

He had to.

Because for the past five days, he had been enduring your little game. One he was certain his sister was a part of.

He found the first photograph on Monday, tucked neatly into the breast pocket of his favorite suit jacket. A stunning, sinful image of you stretched across his bed, lace barely covering anything, your gaze dark with invitation.

That was the moment he knew he was in trouble.

Tuesday, just as he was leaving for a meeting, he slid his hand into his trouser pocket. Only to freeze as his fingers brushed against glossy paper.

He had been halfway out the door when he dared a glance.

A photo of you kneeling, hands behind your back, lace panties so sheer they might as well have been nonexistent.

Elijah had promptly shut the door, canceled his meeting, and spent the next fifteen minutes in his office. Door locked, tie loosened, cock hard, a photo of you crumpled in his hand, the other pumping his cock as he pictured your face.

On Wednesday, he was convinced he had discovered them all.

Until he stepped into his Italian leather shoes.

And felt something crinkle beneath his foot.

For the first time in centuries, Elijah actually stumbled.

Rebekah, who had been passing by in the hallway, had stopped short, staring as he clutched the doorframe.

"Did you just trip?" she had asked, stunned.

"Hardly," he had responded, straightening immediately. As if his pulse wasn’t hammering in his throat.

He had waited until she disappeared before slowly, cautiously, extracting the latest piece of your torment from inside his shoe.

This one had been even worse.

You. Wearing nothing but one of his ties, wrapped neatly around your wrists.

His cock throbbed at the mere memory.

But he hadn't broken.

He could withstand this.

He was Elijah Mikaelson, and he would not be defeated by a few naughty pictures. He was a man of patience and refinement, and he could endure. He would wait until Valentine's Day, when he would show you what it meant to tease a vampire.

But that morning, as he adjusted his cufflinks at breakfast, he reached into his suit jacket pocket out of habit and immediately clenched his fist around the next scandalous polaroid .

He had been mid-sip of his coffee.

He had not been prepared.

For the first time since the invention of coffee, Elijah Mikaelson had actually choked.

Kol had howled with laughter.

"Blimey, brother, you alright? Coffee too hot?."

Elijah had merely dabbed at his mouth with his handkerchief, offering his most practiced, impassive look. "I'm fine."

He was absolutely not fine.

Now, sitting around with his family and you at dinner, mere hours away from Valentine's Day, he was rattled.

You had been purposely avoiding him all week. Staying at your own place, barely responding to his messages, keeping your distance. It was clear you were waiting him out, playing games.

Well, Elijah was a patient man. He would endure. No matter how scandalous, how sinful, how provocative you were being, he would not falter.

At least, that was the plan.

Niklaus leaned forward, swirling his wine lazily, and said, "So, Elijah, any plans with your lovely y/n on Valentine's Day? You are always so sentimental about the holiday," he teased.

"I have something special planned for us," you replied before Elijah could say anything, smiling mischievously.

Rebekah hid her snort behind a sip of wine and Elijah gave her a withering glare.

"What? You aren't making the plans Elijah? Do you remember... I think it was back in the 17th century... when you were obsessed with this baker girl? Such overtures for a bread maker…" Klaus began, grinning at the memory.

"No, not this story, please, Niklaus, not tonight," Elijah groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

You placed a hand on his arm, giving him an apologetic look. But you desperately wanted to know the story.

"He had been sending her these love poems. You know how he was, always so proper, so romantic," Klaus continued.

"They were sonnets," Elijah muttered.

"Anyway, this little baker girl decides to send him one back, but it was rather crass limerick about how she wanted him to take her in the bakery," Klaus went on.

"There once was a baker so sweet, who begged, ‘Lay me down on the wheat" Kol began, a shit-eating grin on his face.

"She said, ‘Knead me like dough. Fill me up nice and slow," Rebekah joined in, leaning forward.

Elijah closed his eyes, wanting to dissolve into the flooring.

"And make sure that I rise with the heat!" the three of them finished in unison, all dissolving into laughter.

You could hardly breathe, you were laughing so hard, tears pricking at your eyes. Elijah looked as though he was going to stab someone with his fork.

"What happened to the girl?" you managed to ask through gasps.

"He ate her," Rebekah laughed.

"I did not," Elijah said immediately, scowling at the three of them. "She died of an infection, actually."

You wiped a tear away from your eye, still giggling, and reached out to stroke his cheek.

"I'm sorry, babe," you cooed, kissing his jaw.

He didn't seem impressed, but his gaze softened as you leaned into his shoulder, wrapping an arm around his.

The rest of the meal was a little less chaotic, and soon enough, it was time for dessert. There was an impressive spread of valentine's themed desserts. Heart shaped cookies, red velvet cupcakes, chocolate-covered strawberries, and a tray of mini éclairs.

Elijah was leaning back in his chair, sipping on his wine, his arm draped casually over the back of your chair. You had been stealing glances at him throughout the meal, trying to gauge his reaction. So far, he seemed unphased. It was clear he had not found the final photograph, and you were a bit disappointed. You had really hoped he would have discovered it by now.

But that was an easy fix.

You cuddled closer to him, reaching out to place a hand on his chest, stroking his tie idly. He glanced down at you, offering a warm smile.

Your eyes met his, and you subtly loosened the knot of his tie and moved it off center.

Just a fraction of an inch.

His eyes narrowed a bit.

But you didn't say a word.

Elijah took another sip of his wine, his gaze lingering on yours for a moment longer before he fixed his tie. His fingers dipping underneath, tightening the knot again.

As he did, his finger brushed against something. Something stiff, thin, glossy, hidden inside the liner.

His body went rigid.

A sharp, almost imperceptible inhale.

Not again.

Not here, in front of everyone.

Carefully. Deliberately. He curled his fingers around the photo, his movements slow as he lowered his arm and tucked it beneath the table, keeping it hidden against his thigh.

Rebekah watched him over the rim of her wine glass, her lips twitching. She glanced at you and you had to look away before you burst out laughing.

"Valentine’s Day," Elijah said smoothly, raising his glass, as if his pulse wasn’t steadily climbing, as if his fingers weren’t currently gripping the newest piece of your torment. "I propose a toast. To love, and all the beauty and passion that it brings."

"To love," the others echoed.

You smiled, and clinked your glass against his, watching as he brought it to his lips and took a long sip.

"Elijah," you purred, leaning close, "I'm going to go upstairs and get ready for bed, why don't you join me soon?"

He kissed your temple and murmured, "Of course, my darling."

With a wink, you stood, excusing yourself from the table and making your way towards the staircase.

His fingers twitched around the polaroid, burning with curiosity.

Rebekah had the audacity to grin, resting her chin on her hand as she observed him like a predator awaiting the moment its prey faltered.

Elijah refused to give her the satisfaction.

With calculated ease, he lowered his gaze beneath the table, unfolding the final piece of your torment.

And what he saw nearly had him choking on his wine.

Bloody hell.

You. Completely bare. Laid out on your stomach.

And nestled between your ass cheeks… fuckk you were going to get it.

His grip tightened on the photo, so fierce that it nearly ripped. Heat licked up his spine, sharp and demanding, pooling in the very depths of his control.

He had spent this entire week enduring your carefully orchestrated torture.

And now?

Now, you had officially broken him.

You knew you only had a few minutes before Elijah made his way upstairs.

With quick, light footsteps, you changed into the same lingerie you had posed in for one of the polaroids. Giggling as you pulled up the matching thigh high stockings.

He was going to lose his mind.

You went to sit on his bed, when you paused, a delicious idea forming in your head.

His closet.

You quickly grabbed the key and unlocked the door, stepping inside. It was dark, and you turned on the single lamp that was perched on a shelf, casting the small room in a soft glow.

You sat on the island in the middle of the room, crossing your legs and trying not to squirm as the excitement built.

You could hear the sound of him walking down the hall. His heavy footfalls. Then he paused when he entered his room, momentarily confused as to where you had gone.

And then his gaze fell upon his closet door.

You had left it open, just a crack.

He groaned, fuck you were playing with fire, and pushed the door open the rest of the way.

He saw you there, bathed in the dim golden light, dressed in the most lovely sheer lace. He would burn every precious item in this room just to get a taste of your skin.

He took a deep breath, composing himself. He wanted to play this out perfectly. Adjusting his cufflinks, he sauntered in, his eyes dark, hungry, a dangerous smirk tugging at his lips.

"Darling," he murmured, leaning against the island across from you. "I believe we have something to discuss."

You tilted your head innocently. "What's that?"

He stepped closer, bracing his hands on the edge of the table, caging you in. His gaze slid over your body, the curve of your neck, the swell of your breasts, the slope of your waist.

He opened a drawer next to your thigh, pulling out a neat pile of Polaroids, fanning them out so they were all visible. Then he pulled the latest one out of his jacket pocket, uncrumpling it and adding it to the rest.

You swallowed thickly.

"Quite the collection," he hummed, tapping the stack against the palm of his hand. "A beautiful, scandalous display, truly."

He slipped a hand under your chin, tilting your face up so you were forced to meet his gaze. His thumb ghosted over your lower lip.

"Although, I've always been partial to the real thing."

And then he leaned down and captured your lips with his.

A moan slipped from your throat as he pressed his tongue past your lips, the kiss heated and passionate. His free hand slipped down the curve of your waist, grasping your thigh and hooking it over his hip.

"You've been so very naughty, sweetheart. Teasing me all week, putting such sinful things in my clothes, right under my nose," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your jaw, and then another, slowly trailing his lips down the column of your throat.

"Do you have any idea how many meetings I've had to cancel because I was thinking about your perfect little pussy, or those sweet, tempting lips wrapped around my cock?" He nipped at the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder and you whimpered.

His hands gripped your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the island, spreading your legs and settling between them.

"And to involve Rebekah? That's diabolical. What did I do to deserve such a vengeful, cruel lover?"

You grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "Are you saying you didn't enjoy it?"

His fingers danced over the sheer lace covering your breasts, tugging the cups down so he could cup the soft flesh in his hands, massaging them, kneading them, squeezing until you gasped.

"That's not what I said, darling," he purred, leaning in and capturing a pert nipple between his teeth. You whimpered, your back arching.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, nails scraping against his scalp as he kissed and licked and nipped his way down the curve of your body.

"Elijah," you moaned softly as he got on his knees, spreading your thighs and licking a hot, wet stripe against the fabric of your panties.

He pressed his thumb against the wetness that was already seeping through, and then hooked his fingers around the waistband, peeling the flimsy lace down your thighs, leaving it tangled around one ankle.

"So beautiful," he sighed, kissing the insides of your thighs, his lips trailing higher and higher.

You gasped, your head falling back as his mouth met your pussy, his tongue sliding between your slit, low moan vibrating against you.

Your hands tangled in his hair, holding him close as he feasted on you. He had been dying to taste you all week, and now, he was going to savor it.

"Elijah," you moaned, writhing as his tongue swirled around your clit. Your legs trembled, threatening to give out, but his firm hands held you steady.

He groaned against you, the vibrations sending another pulse of pleasure through your body. He eased two fingers inside you, moving slow and deliberate, as if he had all the time in the world to unravel you. His tongue flicked, teased, circled, building you up only to pull back just before you could tip over the edge.

You whimpered in frustration, your fingers tightening in his hair. "'Lijah, please-"

He chuckled, the sound dark and full of wicked amusement. "Please what, darling? Use your words."

Your body was burning, every nerve alight with need. You bucked against his mouth, desperate for more friction, more of him. "Please let me come."

He hummed in approval, the heat in his gaze almost unbearable as he lifted his head, his lips slick with your arousal. "Good girl."

His fingers curled just right, and his mouth latched back onto your clit, sucking just hard enough to make stars burst behind your eyes. The coil in your belly tightened, wound so impossibly tight you thought you might snap.

"Come for me, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice like silk against your skin. "I want to feel you shake for me."

That was all it took. Your body arched as pleasure crashed over you, a strangled moan tearing from your throat as your orgasm consumed you. He held you through it, drinking in every shudder, every gasp, until you were trembling in his grasp.

Only then did he pull back, his eyes dark and hungry as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He pressed a lingering kiss to the inside of your thigh before standing to his full height, his body towering over yours.

"You look exquisite like this," he murmured, tracing a finger along your trembling thigh. "Completely undone. And yet, I fear we're not even close to being finished."

You barely had a chance to catch your breath before he was lifting you into his arms, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. He carried you effortlessly, striding back into the bedroom and laying you down on the bed and turning you over, face down with your ass propped up in the air. Just like his favorite polaroid.

He stood at the edge of the bed, undoing the buttons of his shirt with slow, deliberate precision. "Tell me, darling," he mused, letting the fabric slide from his shoulders. "Was all of this worth it?" His eyes gleamed as he pulled his belt from its loops with a sharp snap. "Because now, I'm going to make sure you remember exactly why you shouldn't play games with me,"

You bit your lip, unable to stop the moan that spilled past your lips as his palm smoothed over your ass, massaging and squeezing. He pressed his hips into yours, letting you feel the hard length of his cock through his trousers.

You pushed back against him, grinding against the bulge, your body aching with anticipation.

Elijah hummed appreciatively, and then brought his palm down sharply against your ass.

You yelped, glaring at him from over your shoulder, the sting making you shudder. His other hand smoothed over the heated skin, rubbing gently before lifting and spanking you again.

You moaned, pushing back into his hand, a delicious thrill racing through your veins.

"Such a needy little thing, aren't you?" he purred, leaning down to press a kiss to your neck. "It's a good thing I have no intention of holding back."

He smacked you again, and again, alternating between each cheek, the sharp crack echoing in the room. He rubbed the stinging skin, his other hand freeing his cock from his trousers, giving himself a few languid strokes.

You whimpered, pressing your ass against his hand, pleading without words.

"Look at you, getting off on being punished," he mused, a dark chuckle rumbling through his chest.

You whimpered, burying your face in the sheets. You could feel heat spreading through your body, desperate and needy.

He leaned down, his breath warm against the shell of your ear. "Tell me, sweetheart. Do you want me to fuck you like this? Bent over the edge of the bed, that's not very romantic,"

You could hear the rustle of fabric as he shrugged off his trousers, and then the firm, searing heat of his cock as he settled between your thighs, the thick head teasing your pussy, coating himself in your arousal. He groaned at the wetness that clung to him, the way your body pulsed with need.

"Please, 'Lijah," you whimpered, rolling your hips.

He tutted, a dark chuckle vibrating through his chest. "Patience, sweetheart."

You cried out as he finally eased inside you, his cock stretching you impossibly. Your toes curled, the delicious sting of being filled too much and not enough all at once.

He let out a low groan as he sank to the hilt, his cock buried inside your tight, wet heat. He gripped your ass, his fingertips digging into your reddened skin, and began thrusting slowly.

"Ohh, yes," you moaned, pushing back into him.

He picked up the pace, his hips snapping against yours, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing through the room.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you're so wet," he growled, his hand tangling in your hair, tugging just enough to have you whimpering.

"Please, 'Lijah, I'm close," you gasped, the fire in your belly building.

"That's my good girl," he praised, his grip tightening, his hips picking up the pace, fucking you harder.

You cried out, his cock hitting you deep, a string of moans falling from your lips.

He released your hair and leaned down, bracing himself with one hand, the other reaching to squeeze your ass and give it another sharp spank.

You came undone, a scream of pleasure tearing from your throat as you came, the fire inside you roaring through your veins.

"That's it, sweetheart," he groaned, his hips snapping against yours, driving you further into the mattress.

You shuddered, pleasure washing over you as the world melted away.

Elijah came with a low, feral growl, his hips slowing as he filled you, his grip tightening as he rode out his high. His hands squeezing your hips, holding you against him as he came, the warmth filling you.

He pressed a lingering kiss to the nape of your neck, and then eased out, taking a step back.

You were a mess, the lingerie twisted around your body, hair disheveled, face flushed. He chuckled at the sight.

"Prettier than any picture,"

He scooped you up, pulling back the covers and tucking you into the bed. Your eyelids fluttered as you watched him climb in next to you, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you close.

"I love you," you murmured, cuddling into his chest.

"I love you more," he replied, kissing your forehead.

"I have one more gift for you," you hummed, sleep already dragging you under.

He smiled, his hand running along the curve of your hip, his fingers curling possessively. "And what might that be, darling?"

You shifted a bit, rolling over and reaching into his bedside drawer. Where you stashed a small wrapped package.

"Here,"

Elijah sat up, accepting the gift and opening it carefully, a small smile playing on his lips.

It was a photo album. With a small note taped to the front.

'For Elijah's eyes only,'

He raised an eyebrow at you, and flipped the cover open. He froze. Dozens upon dozens of polaroids. Of you. All of them in a variety of scandalous poses.

"Happy Valentine's Day," you giggled, nuzzling into his shoulder. "Oh, and I have more where those came from."

He let out a low chuckle, and then he was on you. Pinning you beneath him, his eyes burning with need, his cock already stirring against your thigh.

"You," he growled, his lips capturing yours in a bruising kiss, "are going to pay for this."

And oh, what a beautiful, wonderful punishment it was.

[elllisaaa]

FOCUS ON ME - J. WONWOO

KINKTOBER DAY 12 - BONGAGE + MIRRORS

SUMMARY : you wanted to be more confident about your body and having a boudoir photoshoot seemed to be a good option. you just didn't plan that having the photographer tying you up would excite you that much.

-> pairing : photographer!wonwoo x fem!reader

-> words count : 2.2k

-> genre : smut

-> warnings : bondage (obviously), mirror sex (obviously too), mentions of body insecurities, boudoir photoshoot, lingerie, praise kink, body worship, begging, fingering

+ the way i'm depicting wonwoo does not represent him, it's only a work of fiction

-> 18+ content bellow, minors DNI

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> masterlist | svt masterlist | kinktober 2024

You had always struggled with your body image. Being raised by an almond mother and surrounded by people who constantly commented on your weight and appearance didn’t help either. However, you tried to get your confidence back, it was a long path, but you could feel that you were getting there. In everyday life, it was easy to be sure of yourself, but when it came to being intimate with someone else, it was still complicated. And you had enough of asking your hook ups to turn off the light, or of keeping your clothes because you couldn’t bear to see yourself in the nude. It was over, and you had decided to take big measures. 

“- So… How do you want to do that ? I’m sorry, this is a first for me.”

Wonwoo smiled at you gently despite your initial awkwardness. He was a friend of your best friend, and even if you had crossed paths with him at some hangouts, you had no idea that he was studying photography. So when you told her about your project and that she gave you Wonwoo’s number, you thought that it was perfect. Though, now that you were really about to do it, you felt a little shy. Mostly because of these insecurities that had been eating you up for years, and also maybe a little because you didn’t remember that Wonwoo was that handsome. 

“- Don’t worry, it’s gonna be fine. The bathroom is right there if you want to change, we can start whenever you’re ready. And if you feel uncomfortable at any moment, tell me, okay ?

- Okay, thank you.”

He smiled at you again, his eyes crinkling at the corner behind the frame of his glasses. You went to his bathroom to change into the lingerie set you had brought with you, taking a deep breath as you looked at yourself in the mirror. The black lace of your panties and corset were complimenting the tone of your skin perfectly, underlining your curves. You knew that you were objectively very pretty, but you still had trouble admitting it, really seeing it. And the fact that Wonwoo looked so good in his simple black pants and white tee shirt didn’t help you relax either. 

As you walked back into the room in only your underwear, Wonwoo turned to look at you, his eyes widening slightly as he took in the mostly nude state of your body. You had warned him that you wanted to do a boudoir photoshoot, but he wasn’t prepared to see you like that. He tried to not make it obvious as he pretended to be busy setting up his camera. You could already feel your cheeks grow red as you walked to the set he had prepared according to the inspiration pics you had sent to him, the fluffy white plaid laid on the floor ready to welcome you. 

“- You can get comfortable and I’ll let you tell me if you want to do a pose or something in particular, if that’s fine with you.

- Yes, that’s perfect.

- Oh, and Y/N ?

- Yeah ?

- Don’t stress, it’s gonna be alright.”

His reassuring smile and words did ease your nerves as you sat down on the blanket on the floor. In the meantime, Wonwoo had started to play some sensual music to put you in the mood. As he walked over to his camera, you decided to start out with something soft, only slightly suggestive. 

“- Okay, let’s go. If you want to take a break or to stop at any moment, just tell me.

- Yeah, thank you.”

How careful and cautious he was made you feel at ease, and as the shoot went on, you let yourself forget about what made you anxious in the first place. Your poses got more and more sensual as time went on, getting more and more confident. 

“- Perfect, you’re doing so good Y/N.”

Your cheeks were dusted in a slight shade of pink everytime Wonwoo praised you, even more so because you were now bending over, showing off the arch of your back and the curve of your ass, your eyes boring into the camera lasciviously. Wonwoo had the excuse of his camera to check you out shamelessly, but as you got bolder, it also got harder for him to hide how affected he was by the show you were putting on. 

“- Wonwoo ?”

He snapped out of his daze as you called out for him, detaching himself from his camera to really look at you, and he gulped down loudly as he tried to not let his eyes wander down. He knew why you wanted to do that, he knew about your motives, and the last thing he wanted was to make you feel uncomfortable. 

“- Yeah ? 

- I had… Something else in mind. 

- Yes, of course. Tell me.”

Without any other words, you stood up and went to get something from your bag. When you turned to him again, you were holding some red ropes that left little to his imagination as to what you wanted to use them for. Wonwoo looked at the ropes in between your hands for a moment, speechless. He pushed his glasses up on his nose to try and give himself some composure. 

“- Do you… Do you need any help putting that on ?

- Yes, please.”

You started to make some of the knots yourself, and you showed Wonwoo which ones he needed to make, until your arms were tied behind your back, and your chest was covered in the red ropes to underline the shape of your breasts. Everytime his fingers brushed against your bare skin, you shivered, and you couldn’t help how much seeing him focused on tying the knots through the reflection of the mirror had turned you on. You looked at the final result and you nodded at him with a satisfied smile. 

“- It’s perfect, thank you…

- You’re welcome.”

You went to kneel down in front of the camera again, showing your tied arms and your back to Wonwoo as you turned your head back to look directly into the lens. And he had to mentally stop himself from looking at you for too long as he adjusted the angle to take the perfect shot. It was as if this had sparked up your confidence even more, and you got even bolder and seductive in your poses. It was also getting harder for Wonwoo to concentrate on his camera and not on the way he could figure out the outline of your nipples from underneath the thin material of your corset. 

“- Wonwoo ?”

Your name coming out of his mouth made it even more complicated for him to not pop a boner, but he still perked up from behind the camera to look you in the eyes.

“- Yeah ?

- Could you… Take some closer shots, if you don’t mind it.”

You saw him visibly swallow as he shook his head and took his camera in between his hands, stepping closer to you to take some focused shots of certain parts of your body. Now, it was impossible for him to not get hard as he had your ass in full display for him. 

“- Can I… Can I try something ? I think it would make it even better, if you don’t mind.”

Something darker was passing through his eyes, but you didn’t care as you nodded at him. You watched behind your bent back as he carefully let one of his hands come down to lend on your ass, his eyes locked with yours as if to be sure you were okay with it. But you only licked your lips as Wonwoo snapped one more photo of his big hand resting against your skin. Slowly, he let his hand travel to one of the ropes crossing over your back, grabbing it and taking a larger shot of your whole body bent over, his muscular and veiny forearm coming into the frame. 

“- Turn around.”

You hadn’t realized just how into it you were until his deep voice echoed again. You obeyed his command, leaning on your back and looking up at him. He was now kneeling in between your legs, his hands traveling up from your waist to the ropes around your breasts, tugging on them and making your breath hitch in your throat. He was still holding the camera, but it was like he forgot why you were here in the first place, not taking any more photos as his free hand roamed all around your body.

“- Tell me to stop…

- I don’t want you to, please Wonwoo…

- Fuck it.”

He didn’t let you any more time to think before he crashed his lips against yours in a messy and hungry kiss. Wonwoo discarded the camera to the side, nothing other than you crossing his mind as both of his hands went to spread your legs wider, caressing and groping the plush skin of your thighs. He couldn’t understand how you could not love your body when you literally looked like a goddess, when it was hard for him to contain himself when he saw you walk out of his bathroom almost naked. 

“- You look so fucking pretty, all tied up like this… I can’t tear my eyes away from you.”

His praises made a fire come alive in your veins, a whine escaping from your lips as he pulled you closer to him, pressing his boner against your sensitive clit. His lips derived from your lips to your neck, down to your cleavage and all over your body. Every spot he kissed was left burning, from your ankle to your inner thigh, so close yet so far away from where you needed him. Every little sound coming from your mouth only spurred him on, ignoring the raging boner that started to hurt to worship your body.

“- Wonwoo, please…

- You sound so good, baby… You need to see just how pretty you are.”

Wonwoo lifted you in his arms as if you weighed nothing, making you sit down in front of the full-length mirror of his living room, your back pressed against his chest. He spread your legs again, resting your thighs over his as his fingers finally brushed against your clothed core, making you exhale a shaky breath. He worked you up slowly, even if the dark spot on your panties were telling enough about how turned on you were. 

“- Look at yourself, look at how well you’re taking my fingers.”

His voice murmuring the words just against your ear made you moan just as loud as the feeling of two of his fingers pushing past your folds, stretching you out and gliding in your folds so easily. Your eyes bore into his through the reflection of the mirror, his gaze full of lust for you making you clench around his fingers. 

“- You’re doing so good for me, every inch of you is perfect.”

Every word he spoke brought you closer to the edge, and even if the ropes were starting to hurt and burn your skin, you felt too good to care. His fingers moved in the perfect way to hit your sweet spot just right, over and over again until you were a moaning mess under his touch. You could clearly see the way you were getting wetter and wetter by the seconds with your underwear pulled to the side. And you felt sexy, you felt attractive, all because Wonwoo couldn’t stop telling you that you looked perfect, that you were the prettiest thing he had ever seen, that you were being a good girl, his good girl. 

“- Wonwoo, I’m close…

- Let go Y/N, cum for me.”

Your moans became more broken as you felt your orgasm wash over you, your thighs trembling and your walls clenching around his fingers. Wonwoo slowed down his pace gradually, until you were shaking from overstimulation. 

“- Look at you, look at how pretty you are.”

You did look pretty, even though you also seemed completely gone, completely fucked out. Your chest heaved up and down with your ragged breathing. 

“- Say it. 

- I’m… I’m pretty…

- Yes, you are.”

His lips were on yours again, his glasses getting fogged up by your hot breath as he devoured your mouth in a much more tender manner than before. You chuckled as you watched him wash his glasses, and his eyes were glimmering with something else than the lust that had taken over him. Then, he detached the knots one by one, massaging your sore arms once you were free. 

“- Are you okay ?

- Yeah, it was… Amazing.”

You turned around until you were able to sit on his lap, kissing him again, as you rocked your hips against his still painfully obvious boner. The relieved sigh he let out and that you swallowed in your mouth made you smile. 

“- You want me to take care of that ?

- You don’t have to.

- Yes, but I want to. Do you ?

- Fuck… Yes, I do.”

You smirked at him as you reached for his camera, getting out of his lap to put it in his hands as you crawled in between his legs, your hand squeezing his hard on over his pants and making him groan under his breath. 

“- You can take some photos. These ones are only for you, though.”

And Wonwoo fully intended to keep them all for himself, to keep you all for himself.

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my work.

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[tigerf00d]

Got a Photograph, Picture of

Pairing: Spike x Reader

Other Characters: the Scoobies (mentioned)

Tags: explicit NSFW/smut, blood drinking, photography/nude photos, no use of y/n, gender neutral pronouns (afab body, sorry y'all, working with what I know.)

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary:

“Spike?” You centred him in the frame made out of your thumb and forefingers, pretending to line up the camera.

“Can vampires take pictures?”

Your vampire counterpart paused from where he was leafing through a book, looking up at you curiously.

“Well, yes. But often not very well.”

A/N: Title from the Def Leppard song. This is a second part but can be read as standalone! Also available on my Ao3. As this is explicit, you are (as always) responsible for your own consumption of media. That said, if you stay, please enjoy!

Read the first part here.

You were both sitting in Spike's room below the crypt, bedroom painted gold with warm rays that faded as the sun set. His ‘bed’, which really was just a bedframe and collection of fabrics as he claimed a mattress was “too soft” after a century of sleeping wherever was convenient (see also; the floor), was propped up in the corner.

It was strange. Ever since your mutual confession a month ago, you had been around his place, around him, much more. You’d seen his bed before, but now that you’d slept in it? (And that was ALL… I swear on Giles, Buffy.) There was a familiarity you hadn’t expected.

“Spike?” You centred him in the frame made out of your thumb and forefingers, pretending to line up the camera.

“Can vampires take pictures?”

Your vampire counterpart paused from where he was leafing through a book, looking up at you curiously.

“Well, yes. But often not very well.”

“You know that’s not what I meant. Can you have your photograph taken?”

“Depends on the camera. Why do you ask?”

“...No reason.”

He looked at you flatly, faux unamusement painting his face, but you knew the truth.

“Sure, I’ll just take your word for it then, shall I, poppet?”

You nodded, and he just kept staring at you.

Had there always been that many bricks in the wall? It was obvious that you couldn’t hold his gaze, but it was difficult to resist him. One more look can’t hurt, can it? It’s not like he was still looking, surely. He was. pale eyes and that scar that sat so effortlessly over his brow. peering up at you.

“Pet.” Spike said lowly, “What’s the reason?”

“Ok, you're right. There is a reason.” You pause at his smug smile. “Don’t let it get to your head. We were reading this magazine and-”

“We?”

“The Scoobies, well, Willow and Xander mostly.”

“Mhmm, go on.”

“Well, they had this, er, column. On… intimate things, I saw one of the ideas and thought I could adapt it for us to do.”

“So instead of just askin’ me if we could get it on, you decided to ask if I could have my picture taken?”

He was trying not to laugh, lips twitching as he tried to keep a straight face.

“No! I just, one of them was talking about giving boudoir photos to your partner or whatever and I thought it would be nice to just have a clean and wholesome picture of you.”

“What for? It’s not like we do anything without each other, except when I go out to eat.”

“And during the day.” You murmured, watching the dawning realisation in his expression.

“Oh, so is that what this is? Hm? Already so attached to me, is that it, love?”

You frowned, rubbing your palm apprehensively, “Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, no, we’ll take your pictures. Did you bring the camera?” He looks at you knowingly.

“Well, I only have a digital one, and it’s not the best—”

He cut you off,

“Digital is better, at least I look normal on the screen. It’s the silver in the developer that’s the issue.” You nodded and went to find your bag, which you had left near the worn-down entrance to the crypt.

As you returned, the bleached-blond vamp was nowhere to be seen. It was still light out, and you had just been in the crypt itself, which left either the entrance to the town’s underground system, or… you spun around and saw the vamp leaning against the wall near the door with a bemused smirk on his face.

“You're not getting rid of me that easily.”

“I didn't think so.” You huffed a laugh before raising the camera. “I’ve got it. Where do you wanna sit?”

Spike frowned, looking around his bedroom before laying down on his bed.

“Here? Are you sure?”

“You kneel over me to take it, an’ that way, we both get to enjoy the view.”

You rolled your eyes, “Uh huh, anything else?”

“Yes,” Spike drawled before he quickly sat up, removed his shirt, and lay back down. “Now it’s gonna be memorable.”

“Everything you do is memorable.” You grumbled, moving to straddle his hips.

“What was that?” he had excellent hearing, and you both knew it.

“Nothing, Spike,” unable to wipe the smile plastered on your face. You saw him struggle not to smile below you.

Spike liked to tease. That much was obvious to anyone who saw the pair of you together, but even more so he liked for the other to join in, to acknowledge the teasing and throw the ball back to his court. He was ever the brat that way.

You sat down slightly, trying to frame the image better through the tiny window.

One of his arms moved to cushion his head, tilting his face closer to the camera, and the other wrapped around your leg, and you felt him palm your thigh.

“Spike.”

“Yes?” he responded, feigning obliviousness.

“Your hand, it’s distracting.”

“Oh.” the vamp responded all too suddenly, eyes glittering with mirth.

You took the picture.

“A little warning, love?” Spike blinked, the bright light leaving green remnants in his vision. You smiled at the pixelated version of him on the screen.

“Sorry. You just looked so…”

“So?”

“So… you. I couldn’t help myself.”

He looked at you softly before slipping back into his comfortable persona.

“Do I get one of you, then?”

You shrugged, “If you want.”

Rolling off of him and pushing the camera into his hands in one swift motion, you asked, “Where do you want me?”

“Same as me.”

You moved to lay on your back so he could reverse the positions, but he grabbed your shoulder and looked at you expectantly.

“What?”

“Take your top off.”

“Spike. I’m not wearing anything underneath.”

“What? It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“That was different, I was injured.”

Spike conceded, tilting his head before continuing, “Still. For me? It'll be collarbones up, cross my undead heart.”

You thumbed the hem of your shirt and rolled your eyes, “Only for you. Got that?”

“Wouldn't dare to dream of having it any other way.” He assuaged.

Top now removed, you lay back down as Spike eyed you appreciatively through the viewfinder.

“It's the same for you, y'know.”

“What's that, love?”

“I'm not going to show anyone your picture. That is unless you want me to.”

“Appreciate that, pet. Now, hold still. Or better yet, as you so wonderfully put it, do something you-ish.”

You looked at him begrudgingly,

“I did not say ‘you-ish’, William.”

“My first name, you wound me.” He muttered, trying to focus.

“You're a vampire. It’ll heal.”

Spike lowered the camera minutely to level you with a frown, which you couldn't help but laugh at. Eyes stinging with the same green remnants he had experienced moments ago as Spike captured the moment. You sat up, moving one leg over the other as he waited momentarily to inspect the screen before looking at it fondly and putting the camera to the side, picking up your shirt, and just holding it.

“Well, now. What to do?”

“Now I put my shirt back on, and we get you something to eat.”

“Ah, not so fast love. I ate earlier. So we'll have to think of something else.”

“It would help if you gave me my shirt. Then we could actually go places, Spike.”

“Why don't we stay in tonight? It's perfectly nice in here.”

You look around the barren room, cobwebs lining the ceiling.

“In your… crypt?”

“Well, where else do you propose?”

“I did say ‘out’, didn’t I? But… You have a point. You’re certain that you’re not hungry?”

“Positive, love. Though I could be tempted if a certain someone was offering.”

You gasped, squinting at Spike suspiciously. He had drunk from you once before, but it was (unfortunately) in the least sexy way possible, involving a certain mystical terror stalking vampires for their undead energy and subsequently placing Spike on house arrest, but seeing as he didn’t actually have a house, he had boarded with Giles at the time, much to the pair’s mutual enjoyment. To put it simply, it was a whole ordeal that had whisked Giles away for longer than desired, and Spike had to feed somehow: enter you. Could you have bought pig’s blood? Most definitely. Was the idea of asking for pig’s blood and it being sold out due to Hellmouth shenanigans somehow more embarrassing than anxiously offering your arm to the man? Jury’s still out on that one. Perhaps the answer lies in the way you have thought about it on and off at least twice a week since the event had occurred, say, two years ago. But let’s not examine that too closely.

“I see.” You responded finally.

Spike tilted his head in a way that let you know he was observing you. Or, more accurately, confirming a suspicion.

“Why so quiet all of a sudden?”

You scoffed, “I’m always quiet, Spike.”

“Maybe so, love, but not like this. Something on your mind? I didn’t bother you with the blood talk, did I?” He was choosing his words carefully, no doubt leading you somewhere.

“No, Spike. You know I don’t mind that.”

“So what is it?”

“Have you been reading my diary?” you blurted.

“Why? Is there something in there I should be reading?”

Hook, line, and sinker. Damn it, you really had to get better at figuring out exactly what he was trying to confirm before trying to evade it.

“...No.”

“No? Nothing to do with me drinking your blood?”

You blinked up at him, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. “Why would I write about that?”

“I don’t know, pet, but you’re awful nervous for someone who has nothing to hide right now.”

“Well, I’m not. Hiding anything, I mean.” Spike’s eyes tracked the movement as crossed your arms over your chest, protecting yourself from the cool air from below the crypt.

“That’s good.”

You both stared at each other for another beat, before he rolled his eyes dramatically.

“I may have seen you writing your diary.” Spike admitted,

“WHAT?” You yelped at the same time that he continued, “Did you know you mouth words when you write? Adorable, really.”

“YOU’VE BEEN WATCHING ME??”

“Vampire, love, get with the program.”

Taking a moment to catch a breath and re-centre yourself, you nod slightly in understanding. Altogether unsurprising that he did that, still a little creepy, but also weirdly heartwarming now that you had your ten seconds.

“Cool. Cool, so… so what, was this a set-up to get me to admit that maybe I might have a slight thing for vampirism or…?”

“Slight?”

“Spike, you know that’s not why I’m here.”

“Only teasing, pet. No, for once, this hasn’t been some elaborate ruse. But when opportunities arise.”

“Ok, so… so, what? You want to drink my blood?”

“Among other things.” He murmured.

“Spike?” You hesitated, watching his expression closely. “What if I said yes?”

He shrugged, “Then I would drink your blood.”

“Is that all?”

“If that's all you wanted it to be.” Spike moved closer, causing you to lay back onto the soft blankets below you, arms falling to your sides. His arms were either side of your body, crowding you in.

Spike smirked as he heard your heartbeat pick up and your sharp inhale at his closeness.

“But we both know…” He said lowly, eyes focused on your lips, “That it's not all you want.”

He surged forward, capturing your mouth in a passionate kiss. Breaking apart after only a moment to watch your lips chase his own. Spike lifted himself up slightly to gesture for you to move further up the bed, to which you complied.

Now able to blanket you with his own body he began to plant soft, teasing kisses along your neck, caressing the soft flesh with the sharp tips of his teeth, but never puncturing.

An open-mouthed kiss at your collarbone,

“Something the matter, love?”

You whimpered, “Why aren’t you doing it?”

Two more kisses, a nip at the base of your throat, still not hard enough to break skin.

“You have to ask. I want you to ask for it, pet, to really mean it.” His tongue laved a path along the smooth column of skin up to your jaw, followed soon by more kisses.

“Please, Spike. I want you to. I want your bite. For…” You hesitated and to your dismay his motions stopped alongside this. “For you to feed on me.”

Spike smiled conspiratorially, “Naughty naughty, pet.” The tantalising drag of his teeth stopped at the junction between your neck and shoulder, he moaned as he finally pierces your skin, your blood trickling into his mouth as your eyes flutter closed.

“Spike,” You whisper, tilting your head so that he can get a better angle. Feeling his smile against your skin is so different from seeing it. Spike's hands moved down your sides, the fingertips of his right hand skating across your ribcage, pressing his palm to the warm skin, feeling your heart's erratic beating beneath it. He's careful not to jostle you when he raises himself off of you.

“Always so eager to please.”

Softly, he kisses the tender spot, lapping up the sluggish drops of blood leaving the wound. You moan softly, craning your head to the side further still.

The tell-tale click of the shutter and bright flash startle you into squinting up at him, or rather, into the camera.

“Sorry pet, you just look so beautiful like this.”

You look at him properly, smiling from the compliment but still blinking off the light-headedness and adrenaline. His lips are tinted red, cheeks flushed and a sparkle in his eye from the experience, and though he always does to you, in this moment especially he looks alive. Gently you take the camera from him and snap a picture in return.

“So it's like that, hm?”

“Yes.” Had your voice always been that breathy? You disposed of the camera to the side once more.

Spike huffed an amused laugh, dipping down to mouth at the other side of your neck, moving next to kiss your collarbones, then the top of your chest.

“This alright, love?”

“More than alright.”

He enclosed one of your nipples into his mouth, rubbing the other teasingly with his hand. Swapping when he was sufficiently satisfied with your reactions, and then kissing down your rib cage.

“And this? This alright too, pet?” There was an addictive playfulness in his tone.

“Spike.”

“Use your words.”

“You could do just about anything to me right now and it would be alright.”

“I'll keep that in mind.” He promised, tugging at the elastic of your bottoms with his free hand.

In a sudden burst of confidence you removed them, leaving only your underwear remaining.

“Someone's eager.”

“You're bullying me.” You protested.

“You're the one that likes it, love. I can tell.”

His hand smoothed over your hip, “Though I am partial to it, myself.” He admitted, pushing your underwear to one side and running two fingers between your folds. “See? Proof. You like it even more than I do.”

You lifted your hips and he took your bottoms off, listening to your silent pleasure.

Wrist turned to the ceiling, he pushed one finger in slowly, allowing you to adjust to the bizarre feeling.

“Would you please just touch me?”

“As you wish.” He murmured, inserting another finger and beginning to pump them in and out of you rhythmically.

Spike may not have ever been particularly religious, but he certainly understood worship. The circular motions of his thumb against your clit was ritualistic, a practised demonstration of devotion; the soft spoken encouragement as he pressed hot kisses around the bite mark a prayer. Perhaps in another life his moniker would have been ‘the Devoted’.

“Oh God.” You moaned, fruitlessly trying to close your legs and white-knuckle clutching at the sheets in an attempt to warn him.

“Just Spike will do, love.”

You could feel his erection rubbing against the soft meat of your thigh as he began to rut into the bedding right beside you, pants still on. His desperation despite being dedicated to your pleasure at this moment was so palpable you couldn't help but succumb to his wishes, orgasm bleeding new life into your body.

You breathed deeply, boneless, and reached your arm down to palm at him through his pants.

Spike grunted, lifting his body away from your hand and standing to remove the remainder of his clothes.

You reached for him, pulling him down to kiss. The motion was as easy as though you had stolen kisses from Spike hundreds of times.

“Feel good, did you love?”

“Something like that.” You smiled up at him.

He laughed softly before pressing himself between your legs.

“Beautiful.”

“You say that to all your lovers?”

“I've only got one, so yes.”

You didn't know what to say to that, but judging from his quietly (for once) pleased expression you could tell he had sensed the way your cheeks had heated.

You readjusted to lean back against the makeshift headboard, from this angle you could see him better.

Spike's dick was surprisingly pretty. Slightly curved, larger than average, but longer than it was wide.

“Seen something you like, pet?”

“Definitely.” You made a grabbing motion to him and he slotted himself between your legs. The tops of his thighs touching your own.

Spike bent over and kissed your chest affectionately as he used his hand to run the head of his erection through your folds. Gathering wetness at the same time as teasing your clit.

He lined himself up, free hand beside your head to support himself as he entered you slowly, once again giving you time to adjust, all the while shallowly rutting in and out of you.

Once you had adjusted enough for him to bottom out he began to thrust deeper Into you.

“Such pretty noises, love.” Spike's eyes roved your face, listening to your whine in response and the soft moans that followed it as he began to increase his pace.

The hand not supporting him held your chin as he dipped down to kiss you and swallow those sounds for himself.

“Could you– fuck–” You cut off with a whimper.

“What love, what is it?”

“Could you bite me again, please?”

He hung his head and groaned in response.

“Please, Spike, would you?”

“Yes, I think I can manage that.” Came his strangled reply. He drove into you harder, muttering about good manners and sweet little desperate things, peppering kisses down the opposite side of your throat to where he had fed before.

You tilted your head and moaned, the sound spurring him on as he slowed to better control his thrusts. You could barely think, trying to fuck yourself down onto him further.

As he ran his teeth down the side of your neck teasingly, Spike's hand moved from your chin and snaked down to in between your bodies to rub your clit, while imprecise due to your combined wetness, the motions pushed you closer to completion.

“Please Spike. Please now, I need it. Need you to feed on me.” You slurred angling your neck to better present it even further.

He hummed, placing an open mouthed kiss just below your pulse point in warning, and then broke your skin with his teeth once more. Both Spike and yourself moaned, his rhythm faltering as he worked to push you over the edge and drank your blood simultaneously.

You moved your hips in circles slowly, aiming to even the score before you came for a second time but trying not to move him too much and risk his control over his feeding.

When he unlatched himself from your neck this time, Spike had a feral look in his eye, allowing the thinning blood trail to simply trickle out rather than cleaning it like last time as he leant down to kiss you. His pace sped up once more as he created love bites around your collarbones, connecting the two puncture wounds. You were unravelling quickly, but so was he.

“Spike, cum in me.”

“Are you sure, love?”

“Certain.”

He paused quickly, amusement showing when you whined, as he readjusted the arm that had been supporting him to thread his fingers through your own. Spike’s thrusting then resumed, though now his rhythm over your clit was more controlled and deliberate as he tried to time your releases. He leaned more fully into you, allowing his weight to push him into you deeper. Your body seized, feeling weightless and alight all at once, pulling his head down to kiss at his jaw and around his mouth as you orgasmed for a second time.

Desperately, he used his whole weight to push him as far into you as he could on his final thrust as you clenched around him wildly. Spike came inside of you with a groan, holding himself up long enough to kiss the corner of your mouth and roll slightly to the side before becoming boneless on top of you.

After allowing you both a moment of reprieve, Spike pulled out, sitting back on his knees and began to push the cum back into you.

You were panting slightly, a combined sheen of sweat misting over the pair of you.

“You alright?”

“Mm.” You blinked slowly, stretching and then pulling yourself up to be eye level with him.

You kissed him again, this time with less urgency behind it. When you leant back you inspected his face. The kiss-swollen lips, the little remnants of eyeliner he had had on smudged slightly and his hair was sex mussed. Smiling somewhat sleepily now, you reached for the forgotten camera, pushing your head into the crook of his shoulder, to which he rested his cheek on top of your head, taking the camera from you to get a better angle with his longer arm, and took a photo of you both.

“You're a dream, pet.”

You hummed amicably before blurting “I need a shower.”

He chuckled at you, “I think that can be arranged. If:” he said, adding the condition, “If I can join you.”

“Deal.” You angled your head to kiss him once more and smiled when you heard the shutter sound off just before your lips connected.

[astarioffsimpmain]

Cozy Up with: Raphael

[Autumn Photography by: coldoctober]

[Raphael Photography by: @tigerlyla-of-metinna]

Author's Note:

Most people wouldn't consider Raphael to be... well... "cuddly." But the cambion has his moments!

You shivered, still feeling the icy grips of death shooting through your veins as your body recovered from blood loss. You blinked, your sight fuzzy and swimming, and glanced around. Deep maroons and mahogany wood surrounded you. You were in a bed. The plush comforter had nearly fully enveloped you, and it would be difficult to move. Your muscles felt sore and stiff, and the weakness in your limbs was staggering. ‘What happened to me?’

“Ah, you've awakened at last.”

You knew that voice. Panic gripped you. Raphael. Had you died? Were you here to pay your eternal debt? What was he planning to do with you? You wriggled in the bed, moving so little that it caused your panic to rise and your heart hammered in your chest. 

“Come now, Little Mouse, your body has not healed well enough to be thrashing about.” There was a tone of amusement to his rich, deep voice; he had you right where he wanted you. 

“I-Is it time? Did I fail?” You stuttered quietly, your body slowly succumbing to your fate and relaxing back into the soft mattress. 

“No. You have not failed yet.” The devil replied, walking to the side of the bed so that you could see his face. What you saw sent your thoughts spiraling wildly in confusion. He was in his human form, his hands clasped behind his back, and his face void of malice. He smirked at you, but it held no anger. 

“I… I don't understand,” you said, watching his expression shift to one of bored indifference. 

“Your companions were foolish enough to leave your scrolls in camp. You were dying, and I could not have my favorite client perish before our deal had been completed. I returned you to my House of Hope and remedied the matter. You now rest in my Boudoir.” 

You blinked. He saved you? Gods, he really did want that crown. A bolt of icy cold ran through you all of a sudden, and you shivered violently, your teeth chattering with the sudden impact. “T-Thank you,” you muttered, curling into yourself to attempt to get warm. 

“Fulfilling our deal is the only thanks I require, Mouse,” he replied, crossing his arms. You nodded, shivering again, and he let out an exasperated breath. “Mortals are so fragile,” he scoffed. You caught a glimpse of light in your peripheral vision and let your head flop back to the side to look at him. He had shed his human skin and was now in devil form. He stood at least three feet taller and red, leathery skin stretched over protruding veins, with massive bat-like wings dwarfing even his large frame. 

He waltzed out of your vision, but moments later, you felt a dip in the bed on your other side. Your immediate reaction was to try to escape again, and you tried to wrench your body up and away from the devil, but with a single hand, he pushed you back down with ease. “Do try not to undo all of the effort I made in patching your feeble form back together,” he chided with some obvious annoyance, and you went limp immediately, thinking it better to let him do what he wants than to anger him in your current state. 

He huffed in approval and pulled you back towards him. Only then did you realize how warm he was. Your cold body shuddered at the searing contact, and you let out an unintentional sigh. “Yes, that is the idea, Mouse.” He was amused again. You heard the lilt in his voice. Suddenly, a leathery wing covered you and enveloped you in warmth. His strong arm wrapped around your stomach, and he tugged you even closer, your chest meeting his. You laid your palms against him without thinking and hummed as the feeling began to return to your fingertips. You felt yourself dip into relaxation, all the soreness slowly leaving your muscles. 

“Sleep,” the devil commanded quietly. “You will feel renewed when you wake.” 

You nodded, too groggy to make any kind of protest, and nuzzled closer to the heat of the devil's skin. Belatedly, you noticed the smell of sulfur, subtly eclipsed by the alluring scent of cherries, sinking into you as you drifted into a peaceful, comfortable rest. 

~

fin

Tagging: @knightofmight01 @micropoe10 @just-a-refrigerator @fanon-and-canon

[picsera]

Photo Editing Company

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[burekforsatoru]

hands down

chapter 1/2 hanma shuji/f!reader | read it on ao3 cheirophilia - also known as hand partialism or hand fetishism, is the sexual fetish for hands. this may include the attraction to a specific area such as the fingers, palm of the hand, back and/or the nails. wc: 4.5k tags: smut, unprotected séx, choking, pet names (doll, princess), creampíe, hanma should be his own warning

“just a few more, keep that thumb in place”

directions flow left and right in hanma's bright photography studio. music is turned down at your reqest, with the excuse that you couldn't hear the instructions over the bass. sure, hanma thinks, spoiled brat gets what she wants. he fixates on your hands, clean, well-manicured fingers curling around the product he was hired to photograph. 

he hates this sort of marketing, always has done. the companies and brands all think they know better than him, the person with actual knowledge of photography, of media. this shoot, much like any other, comes with a thick binder full of requests. model’s left palm facing up, product on the widest part of her hand, rotated 36° to the left from photo described on page 17– it's all bullshit they think is going to help them sell that miracle cream, something that'll make it look like it’s the only solution to all life’s problems. like your pretty hands can suddenly make anything look like a good idea. 

hanma’s mind flashes him an image he doesn't want to think about, a fantasy he's had for the past two days of the shoot. an image of your gorgeous, soft hand wrapped around his thick cock, stroking it up and down until his tip leaks all over your fingers, making them sticky, making it only natural that you lick them clean. he sighs, placing the camera on one of the tables on the side and gesturing that he needs a smoke break.

once outside on the rooftop, free of the artificial light and the presence of too many people, he leans his back against the wall as his large hands rummage his pocket to produce a nearly empty pack of cigarettes and a lighter so used that the logo on the side is rubbed off. one, two flicks and it sparks up, lighting the end of the cigarette between his lips and illuminating his face orange for a second. exhaling, he closes his eyes, keeping them like that as he tries to think about anything unrelated to you, anything at all. the zoo. elephant shit. giraffes. long slender necks. slender fingers. your fingers, wrapped– damn it. it feels hopeless, but by now he's gotten used to feeling his jeans tense with the erection pressing against them, screaming to be released. when was the last time he had sex? not too long ago, but his body is reacting so strongly. he needs to get laid.

“oh i'd kill for one of those.” a smooth voice nearly makes him drop the cigarette from his lips, startling him into opening his eyes and nearly activating his fight or– well, fight, response.

“huh?” internally he chastises himself for saying it so stupidly. it's you, something about your demeanor and an easy smile during shoots, even when instructions are being barked all around you, flusters him, makes him talk weird. makes him act stupid.

“the smoke? i'm not allowed to hold them, even with gloves.” hanma hardly takes in your words, the way those fingers twirl a strand of your hair and tuck it behind one ear send his mind spiralling. gods, he needs to feel them on his skin, needs to see his cum stringy and sticky between them. he needs to stop. already saving this moment into his mental wank bank, ready for later when he’s finished picking out and editing photos from today, he extends his arm and holds the lit cigarette in front of you.

“i’m not allow–”

“no just take the drag.” he’s a professional. at this point he’s photographed hundreds of hot women, each prettier than the next. he’s done lingerie shoots, he’s done boudoir, he’s done everything and anything under the cold tokyo sun. so it truly puzzles him that he’s getting so hot and bothered by the way you lean in and wrap your pretty lips around his cigarette, cheeks sucked in as you take that drag and lean back, exhaling it with your eyes closed. 

“mhm… that’s good. told ‘em three days in a row are too much, but my agency is shit like that.” you complain a little, a weak attempt at maybe bonding with the man who’s spent a long time looking at you almost exclusively through a camera lens. and another lens. and then a different lens.

and each time that bright flash lit up your skin, he thought of just saying fuck it and taking you right there in the studio, sitting you down on that stupid stool and spreading your thighs just far enough to slot his face in between them and stick his tongue between your squishy folds. he thought about those perfect fingers of yours carding through his hair, tugging on it a little when he’d flick against your clit, he’d nibble on it gently, with the intent of making you grip onto his hair harder. all that thinking is making it difficult having a casual conversation with you now. 

“yeah most are that way,” he puts the cigarette back between his lips, taking a moment to enjoy the fact that they’re touching the exact place yours touched, “trust me, i’ve dealt with them for years.”

he offers you another drag and you take it, almost instinctively trying to grab for the hand that holds the cigarette, but not quite getting there, not allowed to hold it. hanma feels your breath on his fingers, they’re so close to you it would be so easy to just slip them into your inviting lips. he’s had plenty of girls begging for it, whining voices pleading with him to just wrap those large tattooed hands around their throats and coax out lewd moans, almost shocked at how good it felt when he squeezed them by the necks.

he’s always been on the receiving end of the admiration, so readily flaunting those nimble digits setting up camera after camera to get a perfect shot of his subjects even outside of the studio. in the dark, in the crumpled sheets of his bed. they always asked to be put under the mercy of his palms, and now he tries not to recall those moments, but suddenly every girl in his memory wears your face. 

suddenly he can’t remember any of them, instead it’s you he’s pulling by the hair, exposing your neck for him to bite down on it while his hips snap against your ass, it’s you on your back with legs up, held tightly by his hands under your thighs as he parts your precious pussy repeatedly slamming into you. he can clearly see in his mind the faces you would pull, the noises he’d drag out of your throat with just a little pressure to the side of your neck.

“hah, yeah, mine insisted on working with you, apparently.” he watches as you turn directly towards him, opening the communication between your bodies. he can see more of you now, when you’re not bringing all the attention to your most prized feature, he can see the shape of your body. even better, he can imagine his hands on you more, fantasize just how good it would feel to squeeze those tits of yours as he gives you all of his inches. 

“that’s because i’m the best, doll.” he braves a little pet name, testing the waters, raising an eyebrow to see how you’d react. and bingo. the little flush spreading your face and the way you tilted your head as if to hide from him tells hanma everything he needed to know. oh he’s got you where he wants you; seeing you shift on your feet, pressing your legs a little tighter together, he’s willing to bet that you’re imagining nearly the same things as him, being put into your place by someone strong, by him. 

“how so?” your innocent tone does nothing but make him more hell-bent on taking you for himself. hanma’s brain seems unable to relax and give up on the images that keep running through it, the images of you in just a pair of translucent stockings with your own panties rolled up and stuffed between those precious lips, images of your ass so tastefully bouncing on his hips as he helps you ride him. since he can’t do anything to stop his mind racing, he leans into it. he’s testing the waters to see how you’ll react, feeling out how much he can get away with.

“models love me, managers fear me. simple as that… doll.” he throws the finished cigarette onto the ground and steps on it with the toe of his shoe. it’s safer if he shoves his hands into the jacket pockets, he thinks. safer if he can’t reach out and grab your face to pull you in for a damaging kiss. “i’ve managed to satisfy all of them… in one way or another.” but some of them in both ways, he thinks, once again recalling the whiny moans under his toned body, the thin arms wrapping around his neck, and the drag of their nails along his back. but he doesn't recall the faces, all of them look like you now, all of them a blank canvas upon which he paints your eyes, so wide with flustered excitement, your nose, blushing from his words, your lips, gently parted as you sigh and whimper his name…

“another?” how innocent can you be? oh hanma nearly lets out a laugh. or maybe you’re playing him, maybe you know exactly what he means, but you want to tease him and make him work for it. 

“yes, another, what don’t you get?” hanma’s lips tug into a grin and with a step towards you he closes the distance. seeing as you make no move to get away, he reaches around your waist and pulls you closer. “you want a demonstration?” the honking of cars and the rush of traffic underneath doesn’t break the tension between you, it’s like you’re in a little bubble of your own, ten storeys above the rest of the world. 

hanma watches you closely, dipping his head down to brush lips against the side of your head and hear you inhale sharply, as if battling with yourself about how to continue. 

“of what?” you clear your throat, looking down for a moment before returning his gaze. “a demonstration of what?” damn, he’s so much taller than you, his lean frame is slouched to get near you. it makes for even more thoughts carefully being put into a folder with your name on it in his mind.

his chuckle is so low, right against your ear while his one hand reaches to hold your chin, tilting it up so he can see you better. his fingers squeeze your cheeks a little, making your lips pout so deliciously.

“of how i satisfy little princesses and dolls who might not be too happy with posing for so long…” he trails off, leaving the rest up to your imagination, knowing that you’re smart enough to understand, to pick up what he’s laying down. 

from the way your cheeks redden even more, your eyelashes bat a little quicker, and you make no move to pull yourself away, even shift on your feet so you come a little closer, it’s clear to him that it’s a good move. 

“and how are you going to show me that?” your voice is too soft, he almost doesn’t hear it, but the way your lips move in between his thumb and index finger is making his already straining erection feel more painful than ever. despite it, he lets go of your face and stands up straight. one tattooed hand, sin, brushes through his unruly blonde-streaked hair, he forces his feet to move away from you and start walking back inside the studio.

“come to my office, i’ll show you what i mean.” hanma makes himself sound casual though the level of obsession in his mind is reaching new heights. he’s counting seconds as he strides through the studio, ignoring the questions coming from the people on set, even his own team. he must not lose focus. 

throwing himself into the office chair, he rubs those pretty hands over his face. focus, damn it. his knee bounces, looking down he subtly fixes the way his cock is constricted, moving the seam of his jeans a little to the side, counting down seconds until–

you slowly walk in and close the door behind you, like you’re a schoolgirl in trouble walking into the principal’s office expecting to get shouted at or suspended. so submissive, so perfect for him to unwrap.

you approach him with that same redness on your cheeks, standing in front of his desk as if unsure if you should sit or not. hanma beckons you to circle the desk and lean against it, your legs slotted in between his knees. he slides forward on the wheels of the chair, bringing himself closer to you and now his face is level with your chest. his hand sneaks around to caress the back of your thigh, your bare legs shiver under the warmth of his touch.

“tell me, doll…” he drawls, looking you over, admiring your thighs as they peek out from under the hem of that cute little skirt you wear, “are you happy with the set conditions, hmm?” he leans forward, the leather of his chair creaking as he moves, now ghosting his breath across your stomach, across the thin knitted jumper you’re wearing. “the lights are okay, yeah? you got some food, you got drinks, you had breaks… is there anything you want that i didn’t give you?” his tone gets lower, the rasp of his voice sends shocks through your spine as his large hand reaches the underside of your ass.

it’s embarrassing how much he wants to just turn you around, tug those panties off, and shove his aching cock inside you, but he’s nothing if not a teasing motherfucker. a bastard that will prolong your and his torture if only to toy with his prey.

“n-no” your answer is a simple one, and even that you manage to stutter, “no, everything is n-nice.” 

hanma chuckles in reply. nice. he hates that word. it means nothing, anything can be nice, he doesn’t want that. he wants amazing, fun, interesting, perfect.

“just nice, hm?” those long, pretty fingers that touch you so gently make their way over the swell of your ass, rubbing it in tender circles as he looks up, leaning his chin on your stomach. “anything i can do to make it better than nice?” he purrs, reaching out with his other hand to touch your other thigh, this time from the front.

that hand also disappears under your skirt rather quickly. you grip onto the edge of his desk while he explores your soft skin, fighting yourself to keep your eyelids open and connected with his eyes. you don’t answer, just keep your juicy lips parted slightly, letting out a tiny whimper when his fingers reach the edge of your panties.

it brings back the smile on his face, the mischievous smile that says got you when he sees he has you right where he wants you. his index and middle fingers gently hook under the edge of that soft fabric, testing out the boundaries though there don't seem to be many. he closes his eyes for a moment, swallowing saliva when he realises how soft your skin is, how wet you are already.

hanma trails those two clever fingers up and down your precious slit, smearing your wetness around, enjoying the texture of it on his fingertips. a small groan rips from his throat, you're so warm under his touch, he’s barely keeping himself together, barely stopping himself from ravishing you immediately. 

“looks like you’re enjoying yourself more than you thought, yeah?” he soon pulls his hand away while the one on your ass stays, kneading the soft flesh as he pops his middle finger in between his lips. “mmm fucking delicious, i knew you would be.” his finger prods at your bottom lip, making it part more to place his two fingers on your tongue. your lips immediately close around the digits, tongue swirling as you taste yourself, but most of all enjoy the feeling of those slender fingers in your desperate mouth, finally starting to get put in your place, finally being touched and used. as hanma pulls his fingers out, his movements speed up. he’s been patient, gentle, even, but his erection is getting painful to the point where he needs to get it out, and he’ll be damned if he sits there with his cock out and it’s not getting sucked or being used to fuck you. 

with a quick tug, he pulls your panties down, revealing the sweet piece of heaven that is your tender pussy. he wants to kiss it, wants to make out with it for hours, wants to lay you down on his desk and spend the rest of the day with his lips drowning in your juices, have them drip down his chin until there is a puddle on the floor. he wants to tease you so damn much, but it feels like he’s going to die if he doesn’t have his cock inside you right now. with a groan, he undoes his jeans and stands up, sliding them down to his mid thighs as you look down and– gasp.

the look in your eyes says need you now. it shows your desperation, even more so when he takes your hands and brings them to his mouth. hanma can tell you don’t expect any softness from him, but his lips gently brush over your knuckles, kissing every finger as he leans forward, rubbing his bare erection against you.

“so pretty,” he murmurs, “so damn beautiful i need t–” a groan stops his words, the urge becomes too strong. your pretty little pout makes him want to take you immediately, so badly it’s unnerving. it takes him a few quick seconds to have you turned around facing the desk and pressing up against his chest. one of his hands parts your supple thighs while the other gently wraps around your tender neck, holding you in place with your head tilted back.

“doll… tell me something.” his raspy voice flows into your sensitive ear, so low and seductive he wonders if you just got wetter from the sound.

“a-anything… ‘m gonna tell you anything.” you desperately respond, swallowing saliva and feeling your throat bob under his large palm. gods, his hands are pretty, they look so perfect wrapped around your slender neck, tightening the grip with his thumb on the side so gently. 

“anything? fuck, you’re a greedy little doll, aren’t ya?” he chuckles, but the hardness of his cock is rubbing against your lower back, making it difficult to stay as cocky as he wants to. with one hand, he picks up your leg and lifts it up on the desk, opening up the path to insert himself into your heat as he tilts your head, making it easier to lock eyes. “look at me… there you go, you want this just as much as i do, don’t you?”

you nod, nearly salivating at the prospect of finally feeling what it’s like being one of those girls that the famous photographer hanma shuji takes home and rewards for being such good models. 

“out loud, doll, need to hear you.” he coaxes, bending his knees slightly to get the angle right, to align his fat cock head with your drooling little cunt. 

“y-yes, i want this… please, want you so much.” you hold onto the flat surface of the desk, your pretty fingers balancing you as your slick covers hanma’s tip. his strained chuckle glides over your cheek as he tilts your head a little to the side, perfectly placing his lips against yours, but not kissing you. no, the bastard has to tease you first.

“that’s a good doll.” only after he whispers his little praise does he sink his thick cock into you, kissing your pouty lips at the same time. it’s a harsh kiss, demanding entrance into your mouth as his hips meet the plump flesh of your ass. the noise is addicting, skin bouncing against skin, the buckle of his belt jingling with every movement, your moans in his mouth, his curses in between hungry kisses. hanma is gone. one thrust into your weeping cunt and he’s a dead man. he’s sucked in so snug, your warm walls accommodate him only just, making the squeeze that much more intense as he pulls almost all the way out before pushing himself back in with a muffled groan. 

“fuck, doll… so warm for me, hmm? so tight around me,” his voice gets lower as the hand holding your throat moves you again, letting him speak into your ear while the other hand holds your thigh, “so tight and perfect, aren’t you?” hanma chuckles, barely holding on to sanity. he speeds up a little, moaning every time his balls smack against your clit. 

“tell me, princess…” he pauses talking to hear more of those melodic whines coming from your sweet mouth, so perfect that he has no choice but to squeeze your neck a little tighter, making for the noises to get higher in pitch. “ah… i could just– mmm bottle up these little whines of yours… tell me doll, you doing good, hmm? y-you having fun, huh?” 

hanma extends his index finger from your throat and pushes it into your mouth, pressing down onto your greedy tongue while his hips keep colliding with you, his cock drags out squelching sounds form your sopping pussy, hitting every sweet spot in your warm little cunt that contracts around him. “put your damn finger in my mouth, doll, come on.” he demands in a gravelly voice, a little out of breath as he feels his hips twitch. 

hanma is used to taking his sweet time, making his pretty girls beg, whine for him until he feels merciful enough to give them what they crave. but as you shakily remove your hand from the desk and bring two slender, perfectly manicured and clean fingers to his lips, he greedily takes them in, sucking on them like it’s his favourite lollipop. like the answer to the meaning of life is buried deep inside your cunt and under the skin of your hands. his tongue shows off, swirling around your fingertips, sending shivers throughout your body. 

deeper moans join the symphony of noises in the office, he licks between your digits, continuously snapping his hips forward, thrusting so deeply into you that you feel the edge of his desk dig into your front. your cute little skirt is hiked up around your waist, giving him a good view of your round ass whenever he lets his eyes wander away from the knuckles of your hand resting on his chin or the sight of his tattooed hand, punishment, squeezing your throat harder, tighter, making whiny little whimpers slip though your lips and past his index finger stuck in your mouth. 

the sensation of your cunt tightening around him is almost too much, so he nearly collapses, knees giving up, when he hears your pleading voice vibrating against his index finger. he pulls it out of your mouth, letting you speak up, oh how he wants to hear you plead for him.

“p-please, haa– i need t’...” a groan escapes you when hanma pulls his head away, letting your fingers slip out of his mouth and onto the desk where they were before. he dips his head closer, tugs on your earlobe with his mean teeth. “need t’ cum, please, can i?” 

hanma has struck gold. a sweet little doll like you with a tight pussy almost made for him that can take his cock so well, a gentle thing with puppy eyes and perfect hands that he just wants to capture stroking his thick, veiny cock… begging to cum. if he were to die today, he would die a happy man. hanma drags his lips down to your cheek, taking a playful bite of your face before tilting your head again, not slowing down the relentless movement of his vicious hips. he chuckles raggedly, his energy is focused elsewhere, but he needs to give you some cheek before giving in. 

“hmm, already? mmm alright, doll, i-it would be my honor if you did. whaddaya say, you gonna cum on my dick here? y-you gonna make a mess in m-my office, yeah?” his teasing tone is followed by a speedier pace of his hips. he places a hand on your abdomen, feeling for the little bulge where his cock keeps hitting, chuckling a little as he feels it right at the glorious moment when your cunt contracts, making him stutter in his movements and almost immediately follow your orgasm. pretty, he thinks, sounds so gorgeous when she cums.

with those words on his mind, he topples over as well, groaning out into your hair as he spills inside you, gradually slowing down his messy thrusts. his hand releases your throat while the other rubs little circles on your abdomen, large hand covering most of your skin.

feeling brave, hanma presses a few uncharacteristically gentle kisses along your neck where he squeezed you moments before. once he stills, once you’ve both come down from your orgasms, he pulls out, hissing at the lack of contact and the sight of your cute little hole oozing his silvery white release.

he wants to take a photo of it, but it will have to wait, he has a feeling he’ll get to take you like this again. catching his breath, he reaches down and pulls his jeans and boxers up, buttoning himself up before smacking your tender exposed ass with one tattooed hand, punishment. looking down, he realises that he feels more at ease around you now, having dealt with his overflowing need for you. hell, maybe he’ll even give you a moment before asking you to put your gentle hands on his cock and get them sticky with his cum.

“think the break is over, doll.” hanma drags one hand through his hair, taking a deep breath before helping you get back onto your wobbly legs and pull your panties back up. “we got another ten pages of poses to go through… or you’ll be back tomorrow for another session.” a wicked grin spreads along his face. another session, he’s almost getting giddy at the thought of having you here again, another day, another chance to find himself balls deep in your wet cunt, walls fluttering as y– he needs to get a grip.

maybe not during a photo shoot, maybe he’ll invite you over next time, get some food in you, share a drink or two before he makes you pose for his private collection. before he fills all of his memory cards with lewd photos of you in every position imaginable, before he deletes all the other ones he took before. deletes all the photos that don’t have your precious hands in them.

[celestibabs]

pairing; billy hargrove x f!reader

contents; 18+ mdni. boudoir photography, heavy petting, dry humping if you squint | wc: 1k

note; starting off simple for my return to writing... nothing too long or too spicy, but we all know that won't last very long.

Billy snatches the cigarette from his mouth as if it scolded his taste buds, flipping the envelope you’d handed him in his hand with intrigue. His perfect blonde eyebrow raised in query, he raises his gaze at you pointedly. 

“What is it?” He speaks flatly, exhaling the smoke in his lungs slowly so it kisses at his cheekbones. 

“Just open it,” you murmur quietly, worrying your lower lip with your teeth. Billy hums softly, fussing with the lip of the envelope with his fingertips and teasing your nerves. 

You’d tortured yourself over a Christmas gift for Billy, thinking of all possible options and how he’d be entirely unimpressed. Minus a new set of weights or a large tub of some kind of protein-shake powder, you knew he’d probably shove your gift in a cupboard and forget about it until he needed to take the Christmas lights out next year. 

Desperation had kicked in around two weeks before Christmas day. Wandering in and out of the few shops in Hawkins like a demented zombie had resulted in empty hands and muttered curses of frustration. Unprompted comments by Billy insisting that he didn’t want any gifts had fueled your indignation, especially given his tone had somehow strayed into something pitiful in comparison to the monotonous, bored drawl he usually offered.  

The idea came to you spontaneously. Nancy had called to tell you about a playful tiff she’d had with Jonathan over some Playboy magazine’s she’d found in his bedroom while moving her things in for Christmas. Her voice had practically faded into oblivion when you’d remembered the torn-out Playboy pages plastered to the wall above Billy’s dresser. 

It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now that Billy was pulling apart the ribbon you’d tied around the neatly wrapped gift, you’d begun to feel queasy.

Before tearing the wrapping paper, Billy prolongs your suffering with a smug smirk, clearly noticing your anticipation. He lifts the item, shaking it like a five year old rattling their present box as though it would offer insight into what lay inside. “Give me a hint.”

“Billy,” you huff, exasperated already with his antics, “Just open the stupid thing before I take it back.” 

He hums, finally pinching the edge of the wrapping between his thumb and forefinger before pulling upwards, the paper ripping open to reveal the contents inside. 

Billy paused, slowly exhaling the dregs of his cigarette in a gentle stream of smoke through his nose. 

Your heart catches. 

The glossy pages of the personalised Playboy Magazine rippled slightly as Billy brought the images closer for a better look. It was unmistakably you on the front cover, perched in a seductive position on a stool dressed in an unbuttoned blouse with peaks of the black, lacy lingerie you wore underneath. 

Poor Jonathan had been mortified when you’d begged him to take the last minute images. Despite his reluctance, and Nancy observing his every move to ensure he didn’t stare too long, he’d worked hard to ensure he could emulate the magazine quality. Of course, you hadn’t told him who they were for.

You knew you looked fantastic, but Billy’s silence was unnerving you. 

“There’s more inside,” you murmur, cheeks burning, “Some don’t have my face in them so you can tear them out and put them on your wall.” 

Another slow exhale, Billy’s eyes flitting over the magazine cover had your heart lurching in fear. Was he angry? He still didn’t say much when he began to thumb through the pages, stopping on a particularly scandalous page where you swept aside the bounce to reveal the curve of your breast, lips parted seductively but the image excluding the rest of your face. 

“Billy, I’m–” 

“Look at you,” he murmurs, taking his cigarette from his lips and stubbing it into an ashtray settled on the arm of the sofa you’re both perched on. “You want me to pin photos of you half naked on my wall, for everyone to see?”

Billy reaches forwards, taking a hold of your chin in his palm and pulling you forwards so your noses bumped together. Your breath hitches, seizing in your throat when you feel Billy’s breath fan across your face. 

“You little slut,” Billy coos, his free hand working its way between your knees to inch up the inside of your thigh. His touch leaves a delicious burn, like the smouldering embers of his cigarette end had set his fingertips alight. 

Billy’s lips brush against your own as he speaks, his fingers ghosting over the seam of your trousers to apply slight, teasing pressure to your clit. “I’ll put them up on the wall opposite the door. Make sure everyone gets to see how much of a slut you are for me.” 

You can see Billy’s cock straining against the right denim of his jeans. He’s all worked up at the idea of showing you off like this, and seems intent on dragging you down into a horny-haze too. 

“If you’d like that,” you whisper, voice catching slightly in your throat as Billy leans his head down to drag the flat of his tongue across your pulse point. You hear him chuckle softly, feel the rumble against your neck, and you’re almost certain it’s because he can somehow taste your arousal through your skin. 

“I’d love that,” he smirked, his hands slowly working their way beneath your shirt and pushing it upwards to expose the naked flesh of your stomach, squeezing at your breast when you arch your back for him. 

“Merry Christmas, Billy,” you laugh at that, your giggle faltering into a soft whine when Billy punches at your nipple, rolling the stiffened bud between the pads of his thumb and forefinger to tease you further. “Mhmmm,” Billy hums, nipping at your neck and slowly laying you back against the couch. He doesn’t seem to mind that the ashtray that had balanced on the arm of the sofa tips off onto the floor, or that the magazine falls to the floor. He’s far too busy grinding his hard cock against you. “A very merry Christmas it is.”

[xdirtyxlittlexgirl]

More Than a Love Letter (Part II)

Pairing: Henry Cavill X Reader

Summary: Henry is away shooting and has been super stressed lately, so you come up with the perfect plan to surprise him

Warnings: Fluff, angst, smut, daddy kink, masturbation, phone sex, sex toys, daddy kink, dom male, sly exhibitionism, dirty photography, voyeurism, odour kink, and spanking

__

A day later, you nervously paced around your apartment, waiting for Chelsea, your best friend and also a very talented photographer, to arrive. You couldn't help but feel a mixture of excitement and anticipation. You had been meticulously preparing for this day, wanting to create something special for Henry that would convey your love and desire for him like never before. The thought of posing in front of the camera in lingerie and even without any clothes made your heart race with both nervousness and thrill.

When Chelsea finally arrived, you greeted her with a warm hug. She had been your friend for years, and you knew you could trust her to capture the most intimate moments with artistic sensibility. She set up her camera and lighting equipment, while you fussed over your appearance, smoothing down your hair and adjusting the straps of your lingerie.

"Are you ready for this?" Chelsea asked with a reassuring smile, sensing your nerves. You took a deep breath and nodded, "I am. I want to make this special for Henry." Chelsea nodded in understanding, and she began to guide you through the shoot, suggesting poses and angles that would bring out your natural beauty and sensuality. Currently, you were in a red lingerie set, that barely covered anything. Your man loved it like that. Chelsea suggested you take off the bra, and cover up with your hands, being just in your panties. Her gentle and encouraging words helped you relax as you posed on the bed, feeling vulnerable yet empowered at the same time.

"Arch your back a little more, that's it," Chelsea said, her eyes focused on capturing the perfect shot. "Look into the camera with those gorgeous eyes of yours. Show Henry how much you desire him. Remove the hands, pinch your nipples. Make them hard for him. Just like that." She encouraged and you followed. It was as if with each word of hers your inhibitions were leaving your body, making you bolder. You followed Chelsea's instructions, letting your body express your love and longing for Henry. You stretched out your legs, pose just in your panties.

"Beautiful!" Chelsea exclaimed, her enthusiasm contagious. "You're doing great, babe. Henry will be blown away by these photos. How about we try something bolder?" She suggested a d you nodded. She was definitely good with her work you thought. She suggested you take off everything and just pose in the necklace he gave you. Just like Rose from Titanic, and you did. She even took some candid shots of you taking off your clothes, spreading your leg wide, your pussy well on display. This was obviously becoming more than just a boudoir shoot, but you were enjoying it. As the shoot progressed, you felt a growing sense of confidence and liberation.

"Okay, let's try something a little different now," Chelsea said determined . "I have an idea that I think you'll love." You watched with curiosity as Chelsea rearranged the sheets on the bed, creating a cozy and inviting setup. She suggested you lie down and let your hair cascade over your shoulders while intertwining yourself in the sheets. You hesitated for a moment, but then you decided to trust Chelsea's vision. As you settled into the sheets, feeling their softness against your skin, Chelsea started capturing some of the most sensual and intimate shots of the entire shoot. She slowly guided you into some of the sex positions like doggy style, sidh your ass puckered on display. You let yourself get lost in the moment, forgetting about the camera and fully immersing yourself in the experience. You even started fingering yourself moaning, as Chelsea just kept clicking. She then put some glitter in your hands and as you played with your nipples, and clit, moving your hands across your whole body, you ended up creating a beautiful art peace on yourself.

This was definitely getting wild and you had never felt this empowered before. You bit your lip as she even took some shots of you cleaning yourself up in the shower, and then later with sex toys and hand cuffs. There you were, ond if your hand tied to the bed, while you pushed a plug in your butt with the other. "Mmm, were you a pornstar or something? You're doing it like a professional girl." Chelsea said, but kept clicking without trying to make it awkward for the two of you. The chemistry between you and the lens was palpable, and you knew these photos would be incredibly special.

After the shoot, as you and Chelsea reviewed the images together, you were amazed at how beautifully they had turned out. Each photograph was a work of art, capturing your love and desire for Henry in a way that words could not express. You were blushing at some of the slutiest shots you took, but ended up feeling so confident in that. You were grateful to Chelsea for her skill and artistry in capturing these precious moments, and you knew that Henry would cherish these photos for a lifetime.

"Thank you, Chelsea," you said with tears in your eyes, "These photos mean so much to me. I can't wait to see Henry's reaction when I give him the album!" You said as she gave you a big hug all the while convincing you to star in a porn movie, or maybe atleast do something like 365 days with Henry. Although that does sound like a nice idea, now that you think about it.

~

Finally the day was here, and you had sent off the package to him. You anxiously awaited Henry's call, your heart fluttered with excitement. You had carefully coordinated with his manager to set up a box in his room and run a hot bath for him, complete with bath bombs, oils, and all the things you knew he loved. You couldn't wait to hear his reaction when he saw it all.

Finally, your phone rang, and it was Henry's familiar face on the screen. He looked tired, but his smile brightened as soon as he saw you. You greeted him with warmth and affection, telling him to return to his room and relax. You could see the curiosity in his eyes as he followed your instructions. As Henry entered his room, he was surprised to see a huge box with a note that said, "Open me after the bath." He made his way to the bathroom, and his eyes widened in astonishment as he saw a hot bath waiting for him, just like how you would set it up at home. The scent of the bath bombs and oils filled the air, reminding him of you. He couldn't help but grin, knowing that you had thought of every little detail to make him feel loved and cherished.

Just as Henry was about to undress and slip into the bath, his phone rang, and it was you. He answered eagerly, and your voice sounded as soothing and enchanting as ever. You could tell he was already in a better mood, and it made your heart swell with happiness.

"Hey, babe," Henry said, his grin widening, "You won't believe what I found in my room. It's like you're here with me." You chuckled softly, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "I'm glad you like the surprise, love. I wanted you to have a little piece of home while you're away." Henry's voice softened, and he couldn't help but express his love for you. "You're amazing, my princess. I can't believe how lucky I am to have you. Honestly, I don't deserve you babygirl" Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt a blush rise to your cheeks. "You deserve every bit of it my lovely man. Now, go ahead and relax in the bath. You deserve it."

Henry smiles and slips into the warm water, and you could see the tension melting from his body as he sighed in contentment. You both sipped on your favorite wine, and the conversation flowed effortlessly, just like it always did when you were together. "I was having probably the worst days on set, and it was as if you knew it." He says as you chuckle. "Always here to rescue my man" You say as he chuckles and all you could do was admire that. Both him and you didn't know he needed this so much. Just the gesture made him feel so much better, and seeing him happy made your heart feel light, as if a huge weight was lifted off of it.

As you talked, you couldn't help but imagine Henry's bare body in the bath, and the thought made you smirk. You knew he was equally captivated by your presence, and you could sense the desire and love he had for you through the screen. It made your heart swell with affection. "I wish you were here with me," Henry said softly, his eyes filled with longing. You felt the same way, but you knew that this care package was the next best thing to being physically together. "Me too, Hen," you replied, your voice filled with tenderness, "But just imagine, we're sharing this bath together, even though we're miles apart." Henry's eyes sparkled, and he nodded, his fingers tracing the rim of his wine glass. "I can feel your presence, princess. It's like you're right here with me."

You smiled, feeling overwhelmed with love for this man who meant everything to you. "I'd never leave a good looking man like yourself alone anyway." You chuckle as he laughs with you. Henry's gaze never left the screen as he nodded, his eyes filled with adoration.

As the water grew colder, you both decided to get out of the bath. You quickly changed into one of his oversized shirts. "Enjoying the view Cavill?" You say chuckling and giving an intentional wiggle to your bum. "Yes ma'am" That's all he said as he gawked at you. "Go change and you can finally open the package." He chuckles and changes into his sleeping shorts, then sets up the camera so you can both see each other. You watch as he opens the box, and your heart swells with excitement.

He looks through the notes from your family, smiling at the sweet messages and even laughing at the funny ones. But then he reaches the letter you wrote him, and his expression changes. He reads it slowly, and you can see his eyes light up as he takes in every word. You watch him with a smirk on your face, knowing that you've turned him on with your words. As he finishes reading, he looks up at you with a smile and says, "Damn, babygirl. You know just how to make me feel loved and desired at the same time."

He then reaches the naughty things. Grabbing your panties with excitement as he immediately brought it up to smell it. "Fuck" He growled and you can see the bulge growing in his shorts as you squirmed yourself. He was addicted to your smell. He then reached for the fleshlight and lube and then looked at you. "You're gonna be the death of me, you know that?" He said, as he pulls it open, and slowly drives a finger in it, giving you a show. This was turning you on like crazy and you could feel the wetness building in your pussy. "God, baby," he says, a little breathless. "You're killing me here." He adds as you just squirm with all his teasing. He then retracts himself from teasing you and finally smirks seeing the candle you gave him, he immediately lights it up and a moan escapes his mouth. He is awfully hard. "God baby you really thought it all through. Didn't you?" He adds as you can't help but blush at his reaction. You know just how much he loves it when you take charge and get a little naughty. It's one of the things that makes your relationship so fun and exciting.

As he continues to look through the package, he comes across the boudoir album you sent him. "What is this...?" He lifts the album and flips through it."Holy fuck" He's almost shocked as he looks through the pages, and you can tell he's having a hard time keeping his composure. He has so much love for you, but at the same time, he's incredibly turned on by what he's seeing, and it's visible by the tent in his shorts. At the back of the album you had also put a QR code through which he could easily view the digital copies. Something you thought would come in handy for him.

You chuckle as he looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire. "God, babygirl," he says again. "You really outdid yourself with this one. You are the best, you know that?" You smile, feeling proud of yourself for being able to bring him so much joy and pleasure. "I'm glad you like it, Henry. I wanted to do something special for you, something that would make you feel loved and desired." "Well, you definitely succeeded in that," he says, his voice low and husky. "I can't wait to see you in person and show you just how much I appreciate everything you do for me." You feel your own body responding to his words, and you know that you're both feeling the same intense desire for each other. You can't wait to be with him again, to feel his body against yours and to lose yourself in the pleasure of his touch.

"Strip baby girl" He says as he very quickly just grabs the fleshlight, lube, your panties, and the album. You nod as you get rid of the only articls of clothing on your body, his tshirt. "Fuck you're beautiful baby" He says as he sets himself up on the bed and palms himself giving you a view of his cock. "Mm, baby open the second drawer and take out your vibrating dildo." He commands as you just nod. He just wanted to rip through the screen and eat that juicy pussy of yours that you left on diplay for him. He takes a huge whiff of your panties and growls pouring lube on him and palming himself. "Fuck sweetheart." He puts the digital copy of the boudoir on his TV screen as he started to push the tortch down his hard pulsating cock. "Mm fuck my love, take the vibrator, and rub it on your clit." You do as he says like a sex drunk doll awaiting to be pupiteered. "Mm slap your pussy with it whore. Just like you beg me to do it." He growls moving the torch on his cock as he sees the live view and also the images you sent him. He can't belive that it's you. That it's his girlfriend, that he owns that beautiful baby. "Mm put it in you princess imagine my cock in you, stuffing you up" "Mm yes daddy, fuck. This is nothing compared to you" You growl, the dirty words definitely riling you up further, as you start to move it in and out of you. Henry could control that dildo through his phone and he increases the vibration as you start to move it. "Take it like the good slut you are for your daddy princess, take it well". "Jesus fucking Christ Daddy. Fuck!" You moan loudly as he instructs you to grab the buttplug and slowly slip it in as well. You just follow his instructions as he beats his meat. "Fuck baby". He looks at the pictures and just as the shot of you spreading your ass standing naked on the window pops up, Henry loses it and cums hard, as you do too. "Fuck princess" he growls as his hot cum spurs out onto the fleshlight, he takes one last sniff of your panties before looking at you in the screen, a panting mess. You catch your breath. "Fuck daddy, that was good" you say as you were about to pull out the buttplug too, but he stops you. "Tut tut tut, that stays. All night long. Sleep with it in you. That's the first thing I want to see when I call you tomorrow." He says in his husky deep voice still trying to catch his breath.

As you two ride out your orgasm you can see the physical satisfaction on his face. He's happy and much more relaxed. You realise that this is the first time in a while you've seen him so relaxed. You can see his keep everything aside, as he switches off his television. Sleep is heavy in his eyes. "This was truly amazing baby. I mean it. Not just the package but the date, and this. I am so lucky to have you in my life my love. I can't wait to see you. I love you so freaking much." He says as your heart gets filled with love and joy and you chuckle as you see him tuck himself in the bed. "Mm I can't wait to see you either. I love you so much more. Go off to bed now. I know you're sleepy." You can see the struggle in his eyes as he almost fights to keep them open. "Goodnight my love. I love you* He says as he knocks out and you chuckles disconnecting the call. You were happy and proud as you wen to bed yourself. You wanted to amke your man feel special and you did, and that made you so much more happier. You loved him dearly and so did he. You finally slipped to bed moaning the rest of your night in the sleep because of the buttplug.

___

A/N: Please leave feedback. It really helps to see the encouragement. Thanks. <3

[dingochef]

A belated Happy Birthday to our favorite flyboy, Glen Powell. Here's a one shot from my Dancing on the Clouds Below universe featuring Jake and Elsa.

Masterlist

Flyboy

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x You (OFC)

Warnings: Swearing, Oral Sex (F receiving), Spanking, P in V sex,

Word Count: 4.8k

Summary: A very sexy Birthday for your favorite flyboy, Jake.

With Jake's birthday coming up you wanted to do something special for him; Jake has always put in the extra effort in his gifts to you. An idea came floating through your head.  A few phone calls later, it was coming together. Lydia is the first of those phone calls.

"Hey, chicka, what's up?" she perkily asks when she answers the phone.

"Jake's birthday is coming up and I have an idea for a gift, but I need a good boudoir photographer.  I figured you might have a line on one, rather than me randomly searching the internet," you explain.

"What makes you think I have a naughty photographer in my Rolodex?" she replies, only mildly indignant.

There is a long pause and then she sighs, 

"Ok, you're not wrong.  I can text you the info right after this call. So, what kind of look are you going for? Naughty nurse, classy soft focus, Playboy bunny?"

You laugh, 

"None of those ones, I was going to do the pin up look, kind of like the nose art on WWII planes.  I've got a friend who works at the air and space museum and she's got me some time after hours to do a photoshoot."

"Ooh, great idea.  Any specific outfits?"

"I thought of doing a sexed up Rosie the Riveter and then I've got a nice skimpy red dress, heels, and stockings.  I'm going to smuggle his bomber jacket out and wear that in a couple."

"Nice, you need help with hair and makeup? I'd love to tag along and see how it goes. This is exactly the kind of thing Rooster would come in his pants for."

"Eww, thanks for the visual. And yes that would be super helpful for getting the look right. It is kind of a pilot thing, isn't it?"

She laughs, 

"Yeah, it is."

You hang up and the info for Jenny of Satin Dreams Boudoir Photography pings on your phone.  You take a quick look at her website and like her style, so you give her a call.

"Jenny speaking," a pleasant sounding voice answers the phone.

"Hi, this is Elsa Matthews, I got your contact info for photography from Lydia O'Callahan," you reply.

"Oh yeah, Lydia, she's always been a fun one to work with.  That red hair is perfect for the camera, what can I do for you?"

You give her the rundown on the location and the ideas you have in you head and some of the available times.

Jenny is excited by the idea, 

"I love it!  I've been wanting to do some vintage work and this is perfect.  Let me know your email and I can send you pricing and contract details."

That settled you now have to come up with the second part of the plan that includes a little bit of subterfuge. You tell Jake that you have a networking event to attend for work that'll keep you late.  You're able to smuggle his bomber jacket out by waiting for him to leave for work first.  

You're at work for most of the day and it seems to drag on.  Finally, the clock hits 3 pm and you practically sprint to your car. When you get to Lydia's house she is bouncing with excitement.  

"This is going to be so fun," she says as you walk in.  You're quickly ushered to her bathroom where she has laid out what seems like an absurd amount of makeup and hair products.

You show her a few pictures of what you were thinking for hair, classic 40s wave for the red dress and a simple updo to go with the bandanna of the Rosie the Riveter outfit.

She gets to work and soon you have a perfect Rita Hayworth wave that is frozen into place with a lot of hair products.  Next is makeup,

"I know this is going to feel like a lot, but for photography you have to exaggerate a bit more than what you would wear in real life," Lydia warns you.

About 45 minutes later Lydia has transformed you into a sexy Hollywood star of yesteryear complete with fake lashes and red lipstick.  

"This is perfect.  Thank you so much, I would have never gotten this to look so good.  You're like my naughty godmother of hair and makeup."

She giggles and claps her hands with excitement. You look at the clock and it's time to head over to the Air and Space Museum.  

You park in the back and meet Becky, your friend and gal on the inside, at the staff entrance.  Lydia and you haul all the stuff in.  Becky leads you to the section of the museum where the WWII aircraft are located.  Jenny is already there setting up her equipment.  

She walks over to you and gives Lydia a hug and then looks at you, 

"So good to meet you in person, Elsa.  You are going to be the perfect model today," she says.  You're instantly at ease with her, she is in her 50s, long hair that is perfectly silver with little square glasses perched on her nose.  She reminds you more of an English Lit professor than a naughty photographer.  

Becky shows you to a small room you can change in. You start with the black satin underwear, the garter belt, black sheer stockings with seams, lace tops, and little bows at the back and then shimmy on the red satin dress.  The dress is ruched up the sides and is strapless.  You put on your red heels with straps and take a look at yourself in the mirror.  The dress is short and you can see the lace tops of your stockings. You turn around and give a little squeal of glee, this is exactly the look you were going for.  You walk back confidently to where Jenny has set up.  She is at a B-29, a bomber that has been shined up and looks gorgeous.  A speaker is playing a 1940s playlist.   

You use a step ladder to get up on the wing and Jenny moves it so she can use it to take the shots. She directs you where to put your legs, your arms and you take a variety of shots on the wing. Your next series of shots are inside the aircraft.  Jenny gets one of you leaning out the door leg up against the side of the plane.   All throughout she is giving you cues on facial expressions, 

"Give me cute, sexy, think of Jake," to help guide the shoot.  She takes a few shots of you at the controls, including one of you sitting on the tiny dash, one leg spread wide and the other tastefully covering yourself.

You're about to wrap up the bomber shots when you have an idea. Grabbing Jake's bomber jacket you strip off the red dress so you're naked under the jacket, but still wearing the underwear, garters, stockings, and heels.  Jenny's eye's light up and she gets an idea.  She puts you back up on the wing kneeling facing away from her and you drop the jacket off your shoulders showing your naked back.  She has you look over your shoulder back at her.  Next she has you turn around and pull the jacket out to hold it at the bottom so it is spread across your chest showing the hint of your breasts but no nipple.  You lay down with your legs up on the fuselage and do the same pose with the bomber jacket.  

You take a deep breath and kneel on the wing and drop the jacket all the way down, baring your breasts for the camera.  Jenny quickly takes a few shots with a few adjustments.You get off the plane and she shows you a few shots on her camera and they look amazing.   You quickly change into the other outfit.  You had managed to find a tight short denim shirt dress that you can unbutton down to show off a red bra with white polka dots. It all matches with your underwear and the bandana, giving you a sexy Rosie the Riveter look.

You head over to a P-51 Mustang and you can see the ideas forming in Jenny's mind.  You start with various poses around the propeller. Next you take shots sitting on the wing, sitting in the cockpit, and your favorite looking into the engine compartment holding a wrench like you're going to fix the thing. Finally, you get in place for the big finale.  You climb up on the nose and take a few shots astride the nose, cowgirl style from different angles and some side saddle.  You finish the shoot with you in front of the green screen doing various Rosie the Riveter poses.

"That's a wrap," Jenny announces triumphantly.  Everyone says goodbye and Lydia and you head back to her house so you can get all the makeup off and tame your hair into more of your usual style. Luckily it's started raining, because that will help deal with the hairspray and not cause Jake to be suspicious.

Eventually you get back around 8:30.  Jake is lounging on the couch reading a book and looking good as always. He is reading some mystery novel. You lean down and give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek.  

"Have you figured it out yet? Who's the murderer?" you ask. Jake laughs and looks up to kiss you on the lips,

"Not yet, this one is really good. How did your networking event go?"

"The usual, lots of people I know and some of the same idiots, so a bit good and a bit exhausting. I think I'm going to take a shower, want to join me?" 

Jake perks up at the thought and says, 

"Definitely, just let me finish this chapter and then I'll be in there to ravish you." 

–

You anxiously await the delivery of the  proofs from the shoot.  Jenny sends you a link to a site where to preview them.  You have to wait till out of Jake's vision to take a look at them.  You love the way they turned out, Jenny has done a wonderful job editing them, some she has done in black and white, full color, and then selected parts of some she's put in black and white to emphasize the red dress.  While you like the Rosie the Riveter ones you really like how the red dress ones and especially the ones of you in Jake's bomber jacket turned out.  You select the ones you want printed into a book, digital prints, and a few other items.  

A few days before Jake's birthday, you give him a heads up that he might want to come home a bit early on his birthday.

"Anything special you have planned?" he asks.  

"You'll see, just be patient.  Dinner reservation is at 7, so if you head home around 4ish, that should give us enough time," you tease him.

It's finally the day of his birthday and you get to give him his gift.  You work from home so you can be done early and get ready.  You're ready just a bit before 4 pm.  

You slip on Jake's bomber jacket over the red dress outfit and artfully arrange yourself on the armchair opposite the front door for maximum effect.  When you hear Jake unlocking the door you strike a pose, legs over one arm of the chair and arms stretched out.  Jake's jacket is slumped down off your shoulders allowing as much bare skin as possible. Jake comes in the door fiddling with his keys and turns directly to the shoe rack where he starts taking off his boots. He hasn't seen you yet, you can tell. You inhale sharply when you realize he's wearing his flight suit and not his khakis, something about his flight suit makes him even more irresistible than normal. His boots are finally off and he calls out, 

"El, I'm home," as he starts to scan the house for you.  He finally turns and he sees you. 

"Welcome home, Jake," you purr, as you raise one leg and slide your hands down, presumably fixing your stocking.  

Jake wolfishly grins as he walks toward you. He catches your foot in the air and gives the inside of your ankle a kiss as he slides his hands down your calf.

"This is way better than a surprise party," he says mostly to your leg he is caressing.  

You laugh, 

"You thought I was going to throw you a surprise party?," he nods, 

"Oh no, I want the birthday boy all to myself."

He is now skimming his lips down your leg and his hand on the back of your leg moves to explore what exactly you have on.  He feels the bows and lace tops to the stockings and he raises his eyebrows.  

"Stockings, had to be authentic to the era" you stutter out, distracted by his hands.

You stand up and Jake is quick to embrace and kiss you. It is a kiss that starts sweet and grows into one filled with heat.  Jake slides his hands down the satin of your dress to give your ass a good squeeze.  The motion pulls a throaty moan out of you and Jake takes advantage to slide his tongue into your mouth.  You wrap your arms around Jake, enjoying the feeling of his broad shoulders and the gentle scrape of his five o'clock shadow on your chin. He reaches into the bomber jacket and brushes his hand on the naked skin of your back.   He pushes the jacket off you to get a full look at your outfit.

"Wow, you look amazing, babe. You remembered my comments from that air show."

You do a little turn for him to see everything.  

"I wish I could take a picture to remember this forever," he says as he starts to kiss down your neck.  

You're momentarily distracted by his lips, and finally stutter out, 

"Funny you say that.  You should open the gift on the table."

He pouts a little and says, 

"I am unwrapping my gift."

"It'll be worth your while," you manage to say, suppressing a moan as his hand touches the skin between your stockings and your dress.  

He reluctantly pulls away to sit down on the couch and picks up the wrapped box on the table. You sit next to him, buzzing with anticipation. Jake  unwraps the gift with surprising patience. Pulling open the black box lid he pulls out a leather bound picture album.  

"What's this?" he asks you, slightly confused.  

"Look inside," you urge him.

He flips open the cover and sees where you have inscribed it.

I know that in any time and place we would fall in love. Happy Birthday, the first of many we will celebrate together.

My Darling Jake,

Always Yours, 

Elsa

He reads the message and kisses you before turning the page.  He turns to the next page and sees the photo where you are astride the Mustang in the Rosie the Riveter outfit.  The next one is you with the engine open,  your hand on your hip holding a wrench flipping skirt up to show off your underwear and your finger on your chin with a confused look on your face.  

Jake laughs, 

"You of all people would probably know how to fix an aircraft engine."

The next shot is you laying on the wing on your back looking back at the camera, your polka dot bra and cleavage clearly visible.

"That's my usual view of you.  The first night at the Hard Deck I couldn't stop staring down your dress. One advantage of you being short," Jake teases.

You give him a fake slap on his bicep, "You are incorrigible."

"Yes, but I think you like it," he retorts back, leaning in to steal another kiss before looking back to the album.

There are a few more from the Mustang and Jake takes his time to admire each one and then he flips the page to the first of the red dress shots.  The first shot is you leaning out the door with one leg hiked up on the door frame.  Next is one where you are on the wing laying down your stomach, your legs up behind you, red heels popping against the silver of the B-29. 

There's one of you sitting on the wing, legs dangling. Jake turns the page to see the photo of you sitting on the dash of the cockpit, one leg splayed out and the other tucked in to provide some modesty.

"You would have been slightly distracting on the flight deck," he jokes.  

Next is your favorite shot of the session, you are leaning against the fuselage just wearing his bomber jacket and the lingerie looking coquettishly at the camera.  The jacket covering just enough that the round swell of your breasts peaks out of the jacket. Jenny captured your expression perfectly. The final shot that is printed is the one of you kneeling on the wing leaning with your back facing the camera, the bomber jacket down at your elbows showing off your back. You are looking back at the camera with a knowing smile.  

"This one I really like, now I'd know why my jacket smelt like you the last time I wore it. You sneaked off with it.  Where did you get these done, babe? They're gorgeous," Jake asks, kissing you on the cheek.

"I called in a few favors, I know someone over at the air and space museum. I've got one more gift for you."

Jake smiles and starts to pull you into his lap ready for some more sexy times.  You push slight on his pec, 

"Hold on, flyboy."

You find the back cover where there is a pocket.  Quickly slipping your fingers into the pocket you pull out a card and hand it to Jake.

He accepts the card and flips it over to really look at it.

"Holy shit, El," he breathes, taking in the image he's holding.

It's a laminated card of you wearing his bomber jacket and nothing else, completely nude.

"This is for you to tuck into your flight suit. Keep me close to you. For some good luck."

"That's more than good luck, El. God, you like that next to me flying, I'll be invincible."

"That's the idea, Jake."

You put the book down gently on the table and move to straddle Jake.

"I've got more digital files we can look at later, but I think we have other things on our minds, flyboy," you say as a grind down on him feeling him getting hard under you.  

"That we do," he answers as pulls your head down for a kiss. It is brief but intense and he kisses his way down your neck pausing to suck a bruise at the base of your neck. He runs his tongue along the edge of the dress cupping your breasts in his hands.  

You are trying to find the zipper for his flight suit and whine when you're unsuccessful. He laughs and guides your hand to where the zipper pull is tucked under some fabric.  Quickly you unsnap the collar and pull down the zipper to find a black undershirt you still have to deal with to be treated to Jake's magnificent chest.  Your hands dive into the flight suit to find the bottom of his undershirt.  You grab the hem in an attempt to get Jake undressed. Halfway through the movement you realize that it's caught on Jake's arms thay are still in his flight suit.

"A little help here? I want you naked, please," you whine.

"So demanding," Jake laughs, pulling his arms out of the flight suit and his undershirt off. 

"You're really hot in this flight suit, even hotter when it's half off of you," you say in the most sultry way possible as you slide a hand down his chest and abs watching each muscle tense and release under your touch. 

Jake leans forward to nuzzle his face into your cleavage and looks up at you.  You can't help the smile that blooms across your face when your eyes meet.  

He reaches up and pulls the top of the dress down to reveal your breasts to him. Jake is immediately on them, licking, cupping, squeezing.  Anything he can touch he is lavishing attention on it.  You grind on his lap as he continues his efforts. Sliding your hand up you card your fingers the short hairs at the back of his neck and tug Jake's head up.  He rewards you with a little moan as you lean in to kiss him, your tongue slipping into his open mouth.  Your hips are still rolling rhythmically as you seek out some friction for your rapidly heating core.

Jake's hands run up and down your side, gliding on the satin.  He settles his hands on your hips and and pushes up your dress from where it has rucked up exposing your thighs and the top of the stockings.  Jake trails a hand from your hip across the top of your thigh and down between your legs, fingers teasing with a light touch. The dress is just covering enough that Jake can't see your pussy. You look at his face in anticipation to wait for the moment he realizes you're not wearing any underwear. He clenches his jaw when he puts it together, 

"God damn, El.  You're going to kill me. No underwear." 

His fingers ghost over your mound and part your folds to gently stroke your clit, 

"You've been ready to fuck me since I walked in the door. You got my flight suit all wet, you're so ready to go."

You lift your hips enough to see that indeed you have left a dark spot of your wetness on the green fabric stretched across his hard cock.

"Fuck, Jake," you whine as you sit back down and rub yourself against the coarse fabric seeking some relief,

"You do that to me, been thinking about fucking you all day, barely kept myself together. Wanted to use my hands, but knew it would be better with your cock in me when I came." 

Jake's hands have slipped to your ass where he has pulled up the dress to reveal the smooth skin there, he grips hard as you talk. 

"Thought about how you'd touch yourself looking at my pictures. Your big cock in your hand jerking off," you pant out between each cycle of your hips. Jake roughly pulls your head down to give you a solid, dirty kiss, his hand tangled in your hair.  You moan loudly at the action. Your hips have sped up as you grind against Jake seeking your high, your clit dragging across the green fabric.

"Let me hear how much you want it, El," Jake moans into your mouth as your hands tighten on his shoulders. Your orgasm is hurtling towards you, Jake urging you on with his hands on your ass helping to guide you.

"Let go, El. Come for me. Get my flight suit all wet. So desperate for me, you're humping me before I even get my dick out.  My needy little slut." 

He punctuates the last word with two hard slaps with his big hands on your ass breaking your peak over you.

Your hands are scrabbling at Jake's chest for somewhere to hold as your climax washes over you. You melt into Jake's arms as the aftershocks roll through you. He kisses your forehead and wraps his arms around you as you come back to the earth. Once you've caught your breath

Jake grips your hips and lifts you up to reveal his lap.

"El, god damn, look at that," he says pointing down to the large wet spot on his flight suit. A flush of embarrassment creeps across your face for some reason. Jake picks up on your change of mood.

"So fucking amazing, El. Fuck that's hot," he says, mostly into your mouth as he pulls your head down for another intense kiss. Your embarrassment quickly dissipating. He pulls his head back, his teeth lightly dragging on your lower lip.

Jake's hands grip your hips and spins you around with ease so that you are kneeling on the couch, hands on the back of sofa.   He is standing behind you smoothing his hands over your ass, the heat of his handprint still lingering on each cheek.  Soft lips startle you as Jake sweetly kisses each patch of skin. The gentle thud of his knees hitting the hardwood floor clues you into his next move. You start to squirm with anticipation knowing how good he is with his mouth. 

"Eager, El?" Jake asks, parting your cheeks revealing your dripping slit to his gaze. Without warning he dives in, his tongue sliding inside you in one deep motion and his fingers coming up to gently tease at your sensitive clit.  

"You're dripping, baby. Your needy little cunt can't wait to have my cock inside, can you?" he asks in a slightly mocking tone as he stands up, keeping his fingers on your clit.  

Words are beyond you as he menacingly rubs close but not directly on your clit. The sound of the rest of the zipper on his flight suit being unzipped and the soft rustle of fabric being pushed against skin fills the air.    He leans over his chest skin on skin to your back, he sweeps your hair past my ear so he can whisper,

"You ready for more, El?"

"Please," you surprise yourself with how desperate you sound. 

Jake leans back and you wait on edge for him to enter you.  You gasp when he pulls on the garter belt and snaps it against your skin on your ass. The pain is turning you on even more.

"Jake, please fuck me," you plead.

Another sharp sound rings out as he snaps your garter belt on the other cheek; it draws out a long moan and another plea.

"Please, please fuck me," you plead, begging, your voice going hoarse at the end.

"Shh, shh, I've got you," Jake coos as he soothingly caresses your ass. He finally relents and slowly pushes his cock into you. A wave of relief washes over as the slow stretch as he enters you is so good. You can only let out a long breathy moan in response. He bottoms out and pauses for a brief moment before pulling back and plunging in again, hard. You brace against the couch as Jake's hands latch onto your hips.  He snaps his hips in and out and sets an almost brutal pace. 

"So good, El.  Fuck, look at you," he pants out with each thrust, occasionally snapping your garter belt.  Jake places his hand on your shoulder and pulls you up against his chest. He keeps up his pace in the new position and he is hitting new spots inside you that are turning your brain into jelly. Jake slides his hand down to rub your clit as he whispers wonderful things to you,

"You take my cock so well, El. Feel you nice and tight. Want to feel come on my cock. Can you do that for me, baby? Come for me? Be my good girl? Hmm?"

"Yes, please," you pant out more than speak.

Jake switches his rhythm on your clit and you come apart hard clenching around Jake, nearly collapsing with the intensity. Jake is holding you up as he thrusts chasing his release, the obscene sound of your wet cunt taking him filling the room. His last few thrusts lose their perfect rhythm as he gets close. 

"Oh fuck," is all he can he shout out before he spills inside you.  His release adding to all the wetness dripping out of you. Jake's arms wrap around you as you catch your breath.  The gentle kisses Jake is placing up your shoulder and neck relax you even more. 

"You are unbelievably sexy, El.  Thank you for this amazing birthday gift, all of it," he breathes into your neck where he has tucked his face. You turn your head to catch his lips in a kiss before you seperate.  Standing fully up you look at Jake and say before sweetly giving him a kiss and a wink,

"You're welcome, flyboy. It was pleasurable for all."

You catch the time on the clock on the wall and let Jake know,

"It's time to get ready for dinner."

"Only if you're on the menu for dessert."

He walks by you still looking ravenous and whispers, 

@kmc1989

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered

@mayhemmanaged

@callmemana

@dempy

@hangmanscoming

@lanie-k

@callsign-viper

@senjoritanana

@djs8891

@atarmychick007

@memoriesat30

@midnightmagpiemama

@mygyn

[f1-disaster-bi]

What's the idea and au for max, Charles and lando?

This idea has been growing. There is now plot. I have written two scenes for it, and started a google doc....

Charles is a cam-boy and erotic model. He sells his pics, does a few streams and genuinely enjoys his work and life. He isn't ashamed of it, and when someone from his old university's art department reaches out to him, asking him if he would like to be a nude model for a still life drawing class, Charles accepts because he thinks it'll be fun.

It's in his second year of doing it that he meets Lando. Lando who is sweet and shy, but always shows Charles his amazing drawings of him. He grows close to Lando, grabbing food after the class with him and developing a friendship (and a crush). They end up as friends, gaming together and hanging out all the time, especially since Lando's two best friends go to university in a different city and Lando is friendly with people in his course, but he just clicks with Charles.

One evening Charles mentions that he needs some new material for his website. Lando never shies away or judges Charles's work, and often hypes him up when people say stupid shit in class or they're out and someone recognizes Charles. Charles talks about how it's hard to find people to help or that does those kind of shoots and it's awkward doing it alone, and Lando casually mentions that he knows someone. When Charles asks how Lando knows someone who does this type of photography, Lando blushes and admits that he modelled for his friend Max who specializes in boudoir shoots

When Charles meets Max, there is an instant connection. He just can't help but tease Max when they're doing shoots. He keeps trying to make him smile and laugh, and is just enamored a little with how Max seems a little stoic at first, but softens around Lando and with time, around Charles.

However after Lando encourages them both to ask the other out, Charles and Max find themselves realizing that something is missing but neither of them can get in contact with Lando after their date. It's as if he's just disappeared....

[fightingwithtruelove]

1 4 7 14 19 27 30 🫶

the last sentence you wrote

In all fairness, he's seen humans do more damage than dogs ever did.

4. a story idea you haven’t written yet

Hmm, I have so many? I have an idea with a twist on amnesia trope that I haven't started but hope to really soon. I just need to get my ideas in order.

7. your preferred writing fonts

I usually stick to calibri, but I used to love cambria and recently I've been using lora when I need something to scratch my brain a little.

14. where do you get your inspiration?

I honestly never had a problem coming up with ideas (it's more the execution). I daydream a lot and so it just comes to me then, or before falling asleep or in the shower. I get inspiration from books I love or my favourite tv shows/movies. Even from my favourite fics. Or songs, songs are such an endless source of ideas.

19. the most interesting topic you’ve researched for a fic

It would probably be like "how long does it take a person to bleed out" or "what's a boudoir photography session like" or something of the sorts. Most of my research is boring like "which LA beaches allow dogs" or "what does the air smell like in LA" 😂

27. your favorite part of the writing process

The feeling when you're in the zone and you try to type fast enough for your fingers to keep up with your brain. Nothing like that feeling of being in the zone.

30. share a fic you’re especially proud of

I like how this 4x17 coda turned out in the end.

[simmingnate]

Beverlee was grinding hard on the treadmill - nothing motivates like an upcoming wedding and an already-purchased dress several sizes too small!

Somehow she managed to get her fitness skill to level 4, while also developing the clumsy trait. Fascinating!

Once the kids were at school and Beverlee was satisfied with her workout, she invited Don over to have some good ol' fashioned bedroom fun!

Don immediately undressed, but before they got down to business, Beverlee had an idea…

How about some boudoir photography? It's what all the classy couples do!

Don knew he looked buff, so readily agreed. This could be fun! And potentially kinky! 🤪

Don didn't need any direction - he'd been preparing for this moment in front of his mirrored ceiling for as long as he could remember!

Beverlee took out her camera and prepared to shoot… Just call her Beverlee Leibovitz! 📸

📸CLICK📸

📸CLICK📸

Everyone say 'THANK YOU BEVERLEE!'

Don thoroughly enjoyed Beverlee's photographic interlude - but all good things much come to an end. He gave her the famous Lothario Leer, and she knew it was time to drop the camera… and her panties 😏