#perfumer x coordinator

[otakusparkle]

Identity V New Collaboration Begin

Identity V x Roll Ice Cream Factory Japan

[bluesidez]

request for curvy girl and Miguel on their first date night after having a baby?

[Parents Night Out]

 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x Curvy!Reader, Fem!Reader

summary: Miguel and his girl enjoy a night out without their baby as best as they can.

content warning: fluff, mom and dad pet names as endearment (and a hint at something more), Miguel loves reader’s body, some mentions of a horror?? film (but nothing gruesome or horrible), a little suggestive but mostly fluff

word count: 2k

a/n: It took me a while to get here, but I hope you enjoy it!

You pull your dress down at the sides, smoothing out the wrinkles, the material scrunching up every time you move. 

Dangly earrings to match the necklace on your chest, a spritz of perfume to your wrists and neck, a slide of gloss across your lips, and a final look in the mirror to see if everything was in check. 

“Honey, you almost ready?”

Miguel stepped into the bedroom, eyes focused on the cuff of his shirt.

“Yeah, I just need to put on my heels,” you peer at him through the mirror and turn around. “You look very handsome right now.”

Miguel peered up at you with a soft smile on his face. He walks over to you as you stand, “Thank you and you look stunning, Mama.” He runs his hands over your hips, squeezing the plush skin.

“No, no, no. We said no baby talk tonight!” you chide like you didn’t almost cry leaving your baby at your mom’s house. You gave her what felt like a binder full of notes just for her to lodge it back in your passenger seat with a comment on how she knew what she was doing. When you got back to your house, you wallowed for an hour before realizing that you could finally take a long, long nap without the small cries of Gabriella forcing your eyes open.

“I didn’t say anything!” He holds his hands up. “I’m just saying your name.”

You hum as your head tilts, “Is this just a scheme for me to call you Daddy?’

Miguel pursed his lips before he answered, “No. But, I’m not opposed to that.’

“Of course, you’re not,” you laugh as you move him out of your way. 

He follows you as you walk to the closet and grab your shoes, hands never leaving you when you bend down deep.

“I’m not sure if you’re aware of this,” you sigh as you snap back up and look at him from the corner of your eye. “But we have to make it out of the house today.”

“We’re going, I promise,” he kissed your lips. “Let me put on your heels for you.”

Miguel held your waist as you both walked to the door, taking constant glances at you. 

During the third trimester, you had worried that the baby would change your body drastically, a frown on your face as you rubbed cocoa butter onto your stretch marks. Miguel was always there, taking over with steady rubs and affirmations into your skin. 

You were doing something magical and remarkable by bringing another human into this world, by having his child. He was going to remind you everyday that you were beautiful. 

Plus, the baby weight only made him love your body more. He’s been holding you from the waist down nonstop for a little over a year now. 

He let you use his shoulders as leverage as he slid your strappy shoes on and kissed your knee after tying the strings tight. The movement was a habit built from your pregnancy and inability to see your feet.

“Let’s go party.”

The two of you were a vision in coordinating red and black. Miguel’s tiny details from his tie and threading matching the dark velvet of your dress. 

Getting to the restaurant is the fun part. 

He won’t let you touch a single door handle, running to every door before you can even blink. 

He holds your hand as you step into the passenger seat and buckles your seatbelt for you, grinning wide when you peck his cheek. 

On the way to the reservation, the two of you sing wholeheartedly to R&B with no fear of waking the baby with the slightest sound. 

At a red light, Miguel belts through a long riff using your hand as a mic as you laugh at his antics. When the song switches to something even more romantic, he’s gripping your thighs and rubbing circles into the top of your hand. 

When he pulls up closer to the restaurant, you gasp loud. 

“Miguel!” your eyes sparkled as you read the large sign. It was a place you were dying to try for over a year, but every time you called, they were booked. “How did you even get a reservation?”

“I have my ways.”

At the valet, he runs around the car and guides you out, holding your purse for you, not wanting to see you bothered with it. 

He handled everything tonight, from the place you were going to, to the reservations to the movie tickets. You could only see him as he gave his name to the host at the front. 

“Thank you,” you say to him once you both are inside and settled at a table. “Such a gentleman tonight.”

“Anything for you. Don’t want you to worry at all. Just enjoy this.”

The waiter came with complementary bread and water, sliding the menus in front of you both. Miguel ordered a bottle of wine, not even gawking at the price, while your eyes scanned the list of options. 

You both settled on an appetizer to share, entrees to split, and a sweet dessert to feed each other. 

“It’s so lovely in here,” you look around, the dim lighting making it a more intimate scene. A jazz band was playing softly on a stage and the centerpieces sparkled on the table. “I love it.”

“I’m glad,” Miguel reached across the table, “I know you’ve been eyeing this place for a while. I really wanted to surprise you.”

Your eyes almost tear up taking in his sincere expression, “Thank you, truly. This means a lot that you listened.”

“Listening to you comes easy. It’s only when I can’t do something to help you that I feel like everything closes in.”

“Oh,” you blink fast at his words. You look up and fan at your face, “Miguel that’s-”

He pulls out his handkerchief, not wanting you to ruin your makeup. 

“Don’t cry here, baby,” his voice is soft and sweet. 

“I won’t. I just love you lots.”

“And I love you lots more.”

By the time the food comes, you both have stated several more love declarations and recounted your younger days together. You helped yourself to glass or two of wine, the smile never leaving your face, but the giggles escaping every second. 

Now, Miguel was telling you an old story about how he busted his ass to impress you. 

“You don’t get it, cariño. I was so…adamant about getting a certain look because I was certain you didn’t even know who I was.”

“What you don’t know is that a lot of women love nerdy men. I definitely noticed you, I was just waiting on you to make a move.” 

Miguel fed you the last bits of a cream puff dessert, watching your lips slide over the fork. 

You hum and cover your mouth as you chew, “Do you remember that punk phase you had?”

“Oh, would you look at that,” Miguel glances at his watch and waves down a waiter. “If we don’t leave right now, we’re going to miss the movie.”

You cackle at the peeved look on his face.

He was cute with his uneven mullet and pleather jackets. It definitely wasnt’t his scene, though.

The night continues in a pink, warm haze. The sun is slowly setting as you both head to the theater. Miguel hands you more comfortable shoes and places his tie in the back. 

It’s fun to walk into the theater hand-in-hand like a young couple without a care in the world. Buying a popcorn bucket to share and big slushies like you didn’t just eat. 

The movie is what messes you both up. 

It starts off nice. The two of you are settled on the last row with no one else around, the perfect spot for cuddles, kisses, and more. 

Miguel moves the middle arm to bring you closer to him and you slot into his hold like butter. 

The main characters are a couple moving into a new home in the middle of nowhere with a teenager, a child, and a baby. It’s sweet and a little cliche with the couple thinking that the change in scenery would help them connect with their oldest daughter. 

However, of course, there’s something wrong with the house. It’s a bit too perfect, the area too serene. 

You hold Miguel tight as you watch the mom and dad fight for their lives to make sure whatever entity that resided in their house didn’t take their family away from them. 

The father is kicking through a bolted door, trying to pry it open for freedom. The mother is holding her daughter by the legs as she tries to keep her brother alive. You breathe easier as she pulls her brother out of the crumbling floorboards. Your heart stops its rushing pace as you see four of the family members rushing outside. 

“Where’s the baby?” Miguel’s voice snapped you back into pace. His hands were firm on your skin but his eyes were glued to the screen. 

“I, I don’t know,” you whisper.

The scenes that played after had Miguel anxiously moving in his seat. His foot was shaking by the end of the chair, his arms were twitching around your body, and his hands kept fiddling with your jewelry. 

The dad traversed his way back through the house, listening for cries. Miguel looked like he was holding back a yell, body leaning forward as he locked in on the scene. 

The father made it out alive with his baby daughter in his arms. 

By the time the movie was over, the velvet of your dress had his handprints all over. 

You look at him as the lights turn on, his face blank of emotion. 

The walk to the car is quiet, nothing to be heard but the crickets in the grass and the blast of music from someone’s passing vehicle. 

When he slides into the driver’s seat, you lean over the console with a squeeze to his arm, “Are you alright?”

“Is it,” his hand grips the wheel. “Is it ok if we call your mom? To check on Gabriella.”

“Of course, baby,” you rub his shoulders and pull out your phone, your mothers number at the top of your most-recent list.

After a few rings, she picks up. Her head shakes as she takes in both of you with your heads smooshed together in the camera’s view. 

“Look at you both,” she fusses. “Just sad.”

The camera blurs for the longest seconds of your lives, and then it shuffles over a sleeping Gabriella. Her chunky belly moved up and down with her soft breaths and her eyelashes long against her cheeks. She was like a little angel, tiny fingers twitching every now and then. 

Miguel let out a long breath next to you as if he was holding it all this time. 

The camera goes back to your mom who shuffles back to her own bedroom, “Do you two know what the definition of break is?”

“Yeah, mom. Miguel just wanted to check on her. The movie we watched frazzled him a bit.”

“It didn’t frazzle me,” Miguel sniffed. “I’m just a concerned father.”

“Well get unconcerned and don’t call me back! Me and my grandbaby are perfectly fine and you’ll see her tomorrow. Got it? Good.”

She hung up as you let an affronted sound, “I guess you heard that.”

The night ends a little easier. Miguel is more relaxed and decides to take advantage of the empty house. 

He prepares a hot relaxing bath filled with bubbles and a flowery aroma, candles lighting the bathroom while you turn on a sultry playlist and bring out some champagne. 

There’s a dark glint in Miguel’s eyes as you step into the tub, body open for him to see. You bend down and lay on him face to face. 

“This was an amazing date night. Baby-snatcher house and all.”

“We should do it again sometime,” Miguel massages his hands into your back. “While we still can.”

“But for tonight?” your hands run over his wet shoulders, eyes roaming from the curves and turns of him up to his lips to his eyes. “Let’s have fun.”

Miguel groaned as his lips met yours, the water splashing around as his legs move to the edges of the tub.

“Let’s go all night.”

As always, like, reblog, and COMMENT. Let me know how you guys feel! 🩵

[ssweetleaf]

rosemary.

pairing— eddie munson x fem!reader

w/c— 2.2k

♡ summary— you and eddie have just got married, and seeing you in your pretty dress, all pure and innocent, he can’t quite wait until after the after party to get his hands on you.

♡ includes— SMUT 18+, corruption kink, semi public sex, mentions of eddie getting a boner in a church lol, unprotected p in v, (please wear protection!!) hand over mouth muffling, slight breeding kink, shitty ending!!!!!!

a/n— based off this lovely ask by @televisionboy pleasepleaseplease let me know what you think!! <3

˖ ࣪⭑

The ceremony was over, rings slid over knuckles and vows spoken, sealing it all with what was supposed to be a pretty kiss, turned a little crude— with Eddie dipping you back, fingertips tracing along your spine whilst his lips worked against yours, all sloppy and full of tongue and spit.

But it was your day. Your’s and Eddie’s— Mr and Mrs Munson, it was kind of odd once you said it out loud, barely twenty-three and already hitched, but you were in love and still extremely touchy. That much was evident once his gaze had flitted to you when walking down the isle— satin dress all tight and short, neckline low enough so the weight of your tits filled out the space, jiggling with each coordinated step and a pretty veil surrounding your shoulders, littered with sparkles and rhinestones, glistening in the light that filtered through the stained glass.

Shit. He was already hard by the time you had stood beside him, joining hands at the altar and he had to subtly adjust the crotch of his slacks— in a mere second the holy space had turned quite hellish, though how could anyone blame him when you looked like that. So pretty.

His wife.

So, the reception began— a free bar and sabbath crackling through the shitty speakers, and it didn’t take long for your guests to become— with lack of a better word— wasted.

And they wouldn’t notice the two of you gone for a little while…right?

˖ ࣪⭑

“Shit, sweetheart, been hard since we said our vows—” he groaned, palms heavy on your hips and kneading at the fatty parts, letting them slip, down, down and squeezing at the soft globes of your ass— prominent from underneath the tight satin. “You tryin’ to kill me?”

You beamed up at him, lazy smile and hooded eyes, a little inebriated by too much champagne and his kisses— hands smushed against his cheeks and continuously pecking, one, two, three, sucking his bottom lip between your teeth and lathering your tongue against it.

“Can’t believe you had a boner in front of the vicar, Ed.” You stifled a laugh, cheeks warming and you heard his chest rumble, pushing you further against the bathroom counter and urging you to jump up, helping you slide your ass against the cool marble, back pressing snug against the mirror while you started for the crimson silk of his tie.

You marvelled at him, the same as you had many times that night, cooing and batting your lids at how handsome he looked, all dressed up.

“So pretty, Eds—” your lips curved, tugging at the knot between his collar and easing it from his neck, haphazardly pushing the buttons through the holes while he sucked on the delicate skin of your neck, heavy with your perfume and slick with your sweat, he inhaled it deeply. “Can’t believe you’re all mine.”

Eddie tugged at your hair, tilting your chin and roaming at the new amount of skin revealed— the calluses on his palms were rough on your chest while they smoothed over the swell of your tits, carefully pushing away the flimsy straps that held your dress up and pulling the cups down, the weight of your tits heavy and spilling free, nipples hardening even with the stuffy atmosphere and he felt like drooling at the sight.

“My wife.” He spoke, simple and syrupy— eyes all gooey and soft, leaning forward to stop your ministrations to nuzzle the curve of his nose against yours. Sweet and not a care in the world in the moment, as if you weren’t having a quickie in the women’s restroom clad in your wedding attire. “when we get to the hotel room, I’m totally gonna love on you properly— candles and all that shit.”

But for now, he thought, he was gonna ruin you— taint the innocence of your dress and pretty veil, leave you impure and drooling, begging to serve like a good wife does.

His cock was swelling uncomfortably, pressing tight against his slacks, almost busting the zipper and he took a hold of your throat, squeezing at the sides, feeling the pre-cum start to drip once that look he knew so well dripped along your features then settled— dumbified and longing, honeyed irises turning glassy, lips all pouty and puffy.

All for him to corrupt. His pretty little bride.

“There she is.” Eddie cooed, pushing the skirt of your dress upwards, grabbing a fistful and tucking it underneath your bra— keeping it there so there wasn’t any interruptions between him and your pretty pussy.

The fabric was crinkling, and if you weren’t so inebriated from his existence, you would’ve berated him for it.

But you were in far too deep.

“You been thinkin’ about this too, haven’t you, sweetheart?” He mocked, tugging at the silk that covered your cunt, snapping the elastic crudely against your tummy, fingers dipping in, only for them to dip back out again. “Saw you watchin’ me, baby— looked like a little bitch in heat, clenchin’ your thighs and everything.”

Your cheeks flushed, heat travelling down your neck and right to your core, leaving your clit pulsing and restless, eager for EddieEddieEddie.

You nodded, big pout much akin to your big eyes, staring up at him and fiddling with his open shirt.

“Couldn’t help it, Eds,” you whined, head spinning from the constant pressing underneath the elastic. “You’re gonna be mine forever— gets me so worked up.”

He grinned, finally pulling your panties down your thighs and shoving them into his back pocket.

“My husband.” You hummed, cunt clenching at the mere sound on your tongue. Fuck, you loved the way it sounded.

“Aw shucks, honey, you really are tryna make me blush, hm?”

And he was, cherry blush smeared along his cheeks and down his neck, you could see it littering his collar bones and flickering down the span of his chest— black button up open and flowing at his sides.

Eddie took his first look at your pretty pussy, different now you were married, much more beautiful and it made his mouth water— so puffy and glistening with your slick, so wet you were dripping onto the counter beneath you, and he marvelled at the way you clenched around nothing.

“Shit, sweetheart, I need to be inside you,” he rushed out, pulling at his slacks and you helped him with his briefs, wet spot apparent and seam almost splitting at how tight they had become. “Promise I’ll eat this pussy later— treat you real nicely, like a little princess, hm?”

His cock was out, thick and long, looming over your pussy while he held it there, before smacking the head against your clit.

“That okay, baby? Gonna let me use you for a bit before I’m all sweet on you?”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your skull, whining at his choice of words and the way his mushroomed tip nudged at your clit, pre-cum spreading along your slit and folds and making you even stickier than before.

“Yeah— need it s’bad.” You gurgled, tongue practically lolling out the side of your mouth and fingers clutching at his forearms, leaving crescent moons in their wake. “Want you to use me, Ed— use your wife.”

He groaned at your filthy mouth, though it wasn’t anywhere near as filthy as his and held the base of his cock, easing the head to your entrance and slipping slowly inside.

Your slick made it easy, slipping right in with barely any resistance, though the squeeze of your walls when you clenched around him had his knees starting to buckle.

“F-fuck, sweet girl—” he whined, bottoming out to the hilt, balls heavy against your ass and cock so full inside you, stretching you out and splitting you in two. “Look like a fuckin’ angel.”

You did, practically glowing, or maybe that was the sweat… or the champagne, though whatever it was, you looked beautiful— pure and sweet, pouting up and him, almost begging to be corrupted and dirtied. The thought made you pulse, made him twitch.

You were already babbling expletives, dirty words dripping from your tongue like honey, all while your lids started to grow heavier and heavier.

“Supposed to be my good little wife, honey—” he managed, groan rumbling in his chest and palms pawing at your tits. “You sure have got a filthy mouth.”

He had the audacity to smirk, balls deep inside, trying not to thrust too hard otherwise he’d cum too soon— though he still thought it was fitting to smirk.

You clenched around him. Hard. Wanting so badly to give him a taste of his own medicine and give him a little cocky smirk back, though with the way he pounded and the way his pretty tip nudged at your g-spot, you weren’t quite sure you could.

“Oh, pretty baby’s all fucked out.” He cooed with faux concern, mocking the pout that stayed put on you lips and he quickly leaned down to press a kiss to them. “Wanna say I’ll go easy on you, sweetheart, but you know I couldn’t do that.”

One quick peck, another, and another— one, two, three, before he slipped his tongue inside, swiping it along your molars and flicking it against your own appendage, heavy with spit, and laced with his throaty moans, going nicely with your pretty whines.

Eddie couldn’t deny the way your noises affected him, hardening him further if that was even possible and leaving his thrusts to get harder— however the two of you had to be somewhat quiet, and though the thought of getting walked in on at any moment was quite electrifying, you didn’t really want any of your family getting an eyeful of the two of you fucking like little bunnies in season.

He’d have to find a way to shut you up one way or another.

So, he pressed his palm heavily over your mouth, muffling your cries to a dull vibration against the lines of his hand— his new ring glistening in the light, showing the both of you how real it was that the two of you were married. In sickness and in health.

“Should’ve put my cock down your throat,” he sighed, trying to suppress his own crude noises with a bite to his bottom lip. “Would’a made you all quiet then, wouldn’t it, dirty girl.”

You were whining still, fluttering your lids when your moans were stifled, finding purchase in grabbing at his chest and clawing at his pecs, easing a groan in return, which you would’ve shushed if it wasn’t for your occupied mouth.

His other hand smoothed over your thigh, kneading at the thickness before travelling upwards, grabbing a handful of tit and squeezing it, thumb and forefinger pinching at your nipple and watching it grow impossibly harder at the cruel action.

Your eyes started to roll back, your nails began to claw deeper.

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he cooed, “jus’ wanna let everyone know how good you’re feeling, don’t you?”

You nodded as best you could in the hazy state you were in, thick with fog and eyes lined with tears, now streaming down your cheeks, and you were certain your pretty makeup had turned into a muddy mess— mascara streaks and all that.

“Yeah, that’s right, but you gotta be quiet, baby— gotta be good and make me proud.”

You were close, and he could feel it— hugely familiar with the way your orgasm grew, the way you clenched much harder than normal, pussy pulsing and clit thumping along with your heart, creaming his cock completely and you hadn’t even slipped over the edge yet.

He was close too, stuttering breaths and shortened thrusts, a little sloppy, though still just as delicious, you could feel him twitch inside you, hot and heavy, so ready to burst.

“You ready to cum, baby? Can feel you clenchin’ real hard.” His fringe stuck to his forehead, slick with sweat and you brought a hand up to push it out of the way, a few wisps getting caught in his vision. “Such a dirty girl— does bathroom sex really do it for you?”

Bastard.

“Shit— gonna cum too—” he squeezed his eyes closed, bracing his free hand on the counter and clutching at the edge with tightened fingers. “you ready for my cum, honey? Ready to have my babies? We’ve waited this long, sweet girl, might as well start now.”

You whined and cried out, wanting so badly to scream, though his palm kept that from you.

“Yeah, I know you want it.” He cooed, “make me a real daddy.”

It was in unison when you came— thick ropes of cum painting your inner walls, filling you up and spreading warmth throughout, while you pulsed and spasmed, creaming his cock and dripping all over the bathroom tiles, drool slipping from your mouth and along his hand, escaping the confines and sliding down your neck and pooling at your heaving chest.

So messy.

You felt sated— both of you did, glowing and completely spent, cuddling up to each other as close as you could even in the awkward position.

Until there was a knock.

“Excuse me, is there anyone in there?”

[thehereticdiaries]

Secret's Out

This is a mini-fic based on the series "Secret Secret" by the lovely @hornyfor-redacted-onmain

I was awake at 4am the other night and in order to fall asleep I thought of a way that the reader gets exposed as an omega to the rest of the Stray Kids members!

An alternate smut ending can be read here

ABO!OT8 x Reader

Summary: the skz comeback has begun and you’re at the first hotel of the tour. What’s gonna happen when you get a panicked call from Chan during a dance rehearsal? Will you be able to keep your omega nature hidden?

Warnings: Felix in distress, Minho gets pissed, Chan is losing it, cursing, abo dynamics, dubcon if you squint, Y/N used four times, probably incorrect assumptions about Korean hotels

You arrived at the first hotel of the tour feeling exhausted. The drive from Guangdong to Gangseo wasn’t necessarily long, but it was stressful nonetheless. Being squished in the backseat between Hyunjin and Jisung definitely wasn’t comfortable, but since you were smaller than the boys there wasn’t much of a choice.

The hotel was way fancier than any you’ve been to before. The lobby had a completely open floor plan, complete with marble tiles and floor to ceiling windows. You stood to the side while Chan and Soojin got everyone checked in. Thankfully it didn’t take long. You were dying to get to your room and flop down for a nap. Soojin handed out the key cards, and luckily you were rooming with Maya. 

Applying my scent blockers and pheromone perfume is gonna be a challenge, you thought as the elevator swiftly rose to the third floor. All of the stylists and staff members were on the third floor while the boys had rooms on the fifth. And the main reason for choosing this hotel: a fully equipped dance studio on the bottom level. It’s best not to wander too far since the boys could be easily recognized, even with masks and hats on. You and Maya quickly settled into the room. It was time for a quick 30 minute (or maybe 2 hour) nap.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was the third day at this hotel and you were working on translating more promotional posters on your laptop. Maya left hours ago to coordinate with the other stylists for tomorrow’s performance. You doubted she would be back before dinner. Your train of thought was interrupted by your phone buzzing. You had to dig around the blankets, but you found that it was Chan calling. Your eyebrows pinched together, confused by him calling in the middle of rehearsal.

“Chan? What-” you were cut off by the idol’s panicked breathing.

“Felix collapsed. Minho said it’s a subdrop, and none of our scents are bringing him back. I don’t know what to do, this is my fault!” You felt a rush of worry down your spine. A subdrop right after a heat meant Felix was in serious emotional turmoil. 

“I’m coming, I’ll be down in less than five minutes. Make sure Felix is comfortable and in a safe place,” you ordered. You didn’t give Chan the time to answer, opting to hang up and sprint toward the studio. You hesitated for a second at the elevators before slamming the door to the stairwell open. Your lungs burned as you ran down the stairs at top speed, sometimes skipping several steps at a time. 

“Where is he?” You shoved past Minho and Jeongin. Chan and Jisung knelt at Felix’s side. Fear and panic permeated the scents of every member, nearly overwhelming your keen sense of smell. 

“None of our scents are bringing him back. Not the alphas, not the betas.” Jisung choked on his tears. He locked into your gaze, eyes rimmed with red. 

“Y/N, is he going to be okay?” Chan practically begged you. He was obviously holding back his own emotions. He had to be strong for his pack. But he and his inner alpha were panicked and angry, not at Felix, at himself.

“I’ve seen this before. When I was at university, one of my classmates was an omega. He went into subdrop after an alpha harassed him all semester,” you lean down and check the younger omega for injuries. “Felix’s omega is rejecting alpha pheromones because it was an alpha that caused his turmoil.”

“How do we fix it?” Minho’s voice was strained. He didn’t like that he couldn’t help his packmate. 

“He needs an omega’s scent. That’s what got my classmate to wake up.” Your eyes darted around the studio. “Where’s Seungmin?!”

“Oh my god, he stayed in our room because he had a headache. He was planning to come down after lunch,” Jeongin said. “Should I go get him?”

“No. The longer Felix is in the drop, the harder it is to come out of it.” You gently brushed Felix’s bangs out of his eyes. You knew it would be up to you to help the whimpering omega. Your own omega was screaming at you to protect.

“Is he going to die?!” Jisung clapped his hand over his mouth. Panic surged through the air.

“No! Absolutely not.” You licked the scent glands on your wrist and aggressively rubbed at your neck’s glands. Luckily, you were only wearing the scent blocker. 

“What the hell are you… doing…” Minho trailed off as your real scent flowed through the air. You could feel everyone staring at you, but you focused solely on Felix. 

“Come on, Felix. Come back to us.” You held your wrist up to his nose. He didn’t move. You huffed in annoyance at the alphas crowding around you. 

“Back up! You’re making this more difficult with your alpha stink,” you snapped. Minho glared, but allowed Changbin to pull him back. Your scent was still partially blocked out, your wrist glands weren’t going to cut it. 

You moved to straddle Felix’s lap, pulling the blonde to sit up. The other boys made various sounds of shock at your boldness. You ignored them. You quickly pushed his nose into the crook of your neck, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. You felt him take a deep breath, exhaling slowly. 

“Come on, sweet boy, come back,” you whispered into the crown of his head. Felix jolted. His fear filled eyes met with yours. Tears flooded his lash line.

“Omega?” Your heart clenched at the weakness in Felix’s voice. Your hands moved to cup his cheeks. Felix sobbed and buried his face into your neck again, squeezing your middle in a crushing hug. 

“It’s okay, Felix. I’ve got you. You’re safe.” You gently swayed and ran a gentle hand through his hair. Despite your own anxiety, you managed to keep your scent soothing. The younger omega nuzzled into your neck and cheek, scenting you out of instinct. You chuckled with a small shake of your head. You were beyond relieved that you were able to help. You pressed a small kiss to Felix’s scent gland to further calm the boy. 

“I- fuck, I need to step out,” Chan broke you from your stupor. He slammed the studio doors open and rushed out.

“I’ll go check on him,” Hyunjin followed the agitated alpha to the hallway. 

“Alphas are so dramatic,” you clicked your tongue. Felix giggled and pulled his head back. “Hey, there’s that pretty smile!”

“I’m sorry. Y/N, I’m so sorry I made you-” 

“Shh, Felix it’s okay. They were going to find out eventually. I’m just happy that you’re awake. My omega went nuts when Chan said you dropped.” You tucked Felix’s bangs behind his ear with a gentle smile.

“Uh, is this a bad time to say that this is really hot?” 

“Changbin!” You whipped your head around to scold the young beta. “Yes, this is a very inappropriate time to say something like that.”

“Sorry! I’m sorry, but, I mean, look at you,” he gestured to your current position. “You’re sitting in Felix’s lap, his hands are on your thighs, and your scents are mixing in the most delicious way.” Felix flushed a deep red. 

“Bin, you made Felix uncomfortable!” Jisung joined you in scolding his bad behavior. 

“Do you want me to move?” You sighed, looking at the blushing omega.

“Y-yeah, as long as I can hold your hand. And keep your leg touching mine!” You sat criss-cross next to Felix, pressing your thigh into his. He squeezed your hand, and you returned the gesture. 

“Right, so Chan-hyung had to leave because he apparently couldn’t handle the smell of both omegas. He said that his alpha was going wild seeing Felix scent Y/N.” Hyunjin strolled back into the studio. Seungmin trailed in behind him with a cooling patch on his forehead.

“Jeongin, I got your text. Is everything okay?” He paused, sniffed at the air, and rushed up to you and Felix, grinning widely. The youngest omega plopped down behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle and resting his forehead on the back of your neck.

“I thought you were a beta! This is so cool, we have another omega,” Seungmin gushed, although his voice was muffled by your t-shirt. He sighed happily. “Your and Felix’s scents are helping my headache way better than any aspirin.”

“Awe, I’m glad I could help,” you cooed. You reached a hand behind you to run a hand through Seungmin’s bedhead. 

“Why did you lie about your presentation?” Minho’s sharp voice broke the serene moment between the three omegas. Your hand dropped to your lap. 

“I’m sorry I lied to you, but it was necessary. Working as a translator for JYP has been my dream job for forever.” You looked up at the alpha. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest.

“JYP doesn’t hire omegas. So you lied, used scent blockers, and an artificial scent to pretend to be a beta? To get a job?” You bristled at the accusatory tone in Minho’s voice. 

“Yes, I did. And I’d do it again.” Minho pressed his lips into a thin line. He was annoyed, angry, but most of all defensive over his packmates. 

“Does Chan know?” Changbin cut in, worry evident in his voice. 

“Yeah, he knows,” you sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. 

“And how is it that Chan and Felix know, but the rest of us are left in the dark?” Minho once again took the reigns of the impromptu interrogation. Felix’s jaw tensed. He glared at the floor. You could tell that he was embarrassed about the real way you and Chan met, and how he learned your secret. 

“Felix actually caught me first,” you started. The blonde’s eyes snapped up to yours. “He saw me at a cafe without the scent blockers and perfume. I explained everything, and Felix promised to keep my secret as long as Chan was aware.” You knew you shouldn’t have lied again, but the relief that washed over Felix negated the guilt bubbling in your stomach.

“I understand if you want to report me to management,” you sighed. You figured this would happen at some point, but the disappointment hit hard.

“NO!” You jumped when Felix and Seungmin yelled and tightened their hold on you. “We are absolutely not reporting her.”

“Felix, she lied. Why would you want her as our staff member?!” Minho shook his head in disbelief. 

“I don’t want to report her, either, hyung. She’s really nice, a great translator, and her scent is so comforting.” You were honestly surprised that Seungmin was arguing in your defense. You thought he hated you. Minho’s gaze flickered between the two omegas of the group. Neither backed down, meeting his gaze with steely determination.

The staring contest was interrupted by the studio door opening again. Chan ran a hand over his face.

“Sorry I left. Is Felix okay?” Chan nearly choked on his own spit as he took in the scene before him. His two omegas, cuddled up to you. All three of your scents mixed together. If he thought his alpha was intense before, he was going into absolute overdrive now.

“Fuck!” He cursed and pressed his hands into his eyes before dropping them to his sides. He drank in the sight of the three omegas. He stalked forward, eyes predatory. You could practically feel his alpha pushing to the surface. You subtly moved in front of the younger omegas, your instincts screaming at you to protect them. Chan got too close for your omega’s liking and you growled, slightly baring your teeth. 

“Did you just growl at me, omega?” He scoffed. The attitude switch from calm and protective leader to predator left the younger omegas and the betas on edge. You felt the boys cling onto you tighter. Your instinct to listen to the alpha clashed with your instinct to protect your juniors. 

“You think you can intimidate me by using my title?” You sneered at him. The muscle in his jaw twitched in agitation. “Pull your shit together, Chan. You are scaring them!” Chan finally seemed to realize that most of his pack was tensed, ready to fight or flee when he made a move.

“Jisung, Changbin, Jeongin. Take them back to Y/N’s room.” Chan said through gritted teeth. The three betas hesitated. “Now!”

“Chan-”

“Save it, Hyunjin. They need to get the omegas out of here while I still have control of my alpha. It’s taking all of my willpower to keep him back from forcing her to submit.” Your eyes widened in shock. 

“Get up, we’re leaving.” You stood, dragging the boys still glued to your side to their feet. The betas walked between the omegas and Chan, eyeing their leader wearily. You lead the group up to your room, pulling Felix and Seungmin in behind you.

“We’ll make sure the alphas, especially Chan, calm down. Keep them safe, please,” Jisung’s voice was tired. You exchanged strained smiles before closing your door. You sighed heavily. The younger omegas looked at you with wide eyes. 

“You wanna make a cuddle puddle and nap?”

[folkloresthings]

thinking about fernando & reader who also loves flowers. imagine him coming home from a triple header to the house looking vibrant & beautiful & it warms his heart that the house feels truly like a home ❤️ i could also see reader sending his favorite flowers to his hotel when he’s away too & writing him cute notes to go along with them

FULL BLOOM. ❨ fernando alonso x florist!reader ❩

"statistically, eighty-eight percent of men don't receive flowers until their funeral."

it was what you had said to fernando during your first date, as an explanation for the bouquet you had just handed him. he had brought you some roses, too, but they were nothing compared to the coordinated bundle you had brought. though stunned, a smile crept onto his lips.

you were a florist, he discovered, and owned a little shop just down the street from his favourite coffee shop -- where you had met just days before, bumping into each other accidentally and ending in exchanging phone numbers. it made sense, now. your perfume was slightly floral, and your whole demeanour seemed to fit your occupation. soft, pretty, elegant.

it took three months into the relationship for fernando to give up on bringing you flowers, his often falling short of the ones you created every day. you didn't mind -- you worked with the plants all day long; you had enough to last you a lifetime. other presents ensued: chocolates, jewellery, trinkets that reminded him of you. still, you kept bringing him bouquets. he loved the new decoration of his house, suddenly much brighter than it had ever been. little pieces of you at home with him.

"you may as well move in." fernando shrugged one day, glancing at your personal touches across the rooms. "you stay here when i'm at races, and i don't like it when you leave."

it was an easy decision in the end, and most of your belongings already lived in his house. once you had settled and the space became shared, what was once fernando's bachelor pad became a home. every other day, you arrived home from work with a new bunch of flowers. and every time, fernando would sit down and listen to you list off what each one meant.

"i thought it could use a little sprucing up," you told him when he came home to carefully chosen flowers littered from room to room. fernando only crossed the room to kiss you, squashing the roses in your hands between you both.

only when he went away for races without you did he realise just how much he appreciated your floral arrangements brightening up his days. at home, even when you weren't around, he could look to one of the vases and think of you. two days into his time in jeddah and he was almost sick with missing you. the time difference made it difficult to keep up with calls, one of you just waking as the other fell to sleep.

fernando was dragging his feet back from a terrible qualifying session, pushing past the team to get to his hotel room as quickly as he could. he didn't want to talk to the press, he didn't want to see the engineers, he didn't want to hang out with the other drivers. he just wanted you.

his tiredness almost had him miss the delivery sat on the table of his suite as he locked the door behind him. a stunning bouquet of flowers in the centre, basking the room in a new light. tucked inside was a small envelope and he recognised your handwriting straight away.

"edelweiss for courage. lavender to keep you calm. and tulips, for my love for you."

fernando felt himself relax, as if you had just wrapped your arms around him and held him close. he smiled to himself, grinning like an idiot all alone, and flipped the card in his hands.

"a little bit of home to keep close by."

a little bit of home, he thought, running his fingers over the delicate petals he knows you probably spent an hour arranging. a little bit of you with him, even while you were so far away.

[thatonewritersomewhere]

Cat's Game

Warnings: Fluff, dating, smut (blowjob, fingering, p in v, creampie, aftercare)

Summary: College au, aged up characters, Kirishima x fem!reader, Kirishima is somewhat of a soft dom - partners for a project becomes... something else...

Word Count: 6.2k

____________________________________________

"The partners for your project will be posted on the board at the beginning of tomorrow's class," Mr. Aizawa drawled in a tired voice, as usual. You wondered if he got any sleep, ever. The class collectively gathered their things and got up from their seats. 

With your things in your bag, you walked out of the school and to the local coffee shop nearby, since you and Mina had planned for a day together after school. She had another class before she was done, so you grabbed out your laptop and started looking at possible topics for your research project. It was a National History Day project, except your teacher had to make it mandatory. And of course, you couldn't even choose your partners. 'I just hope I get a good partner,' you thought. 

This year's theme for the project was "Turning Points in History", so a lot of major events that had a lot of evidence would be pretty good. You started to write out a list of events that would be good, when Mina walked through the door and into the shop. 

"Mina!" You called out to her, getting up to give her a hug. You both have been super busy this school year, so it always feels great when you get to see each other after a while. In the embrace, you could tell she smelled like bubblegum, her favorite perfume. She wore white dress pants with a pink blouse, and her hair was down. She is one of the most fashionable people you know, and always lives up to that. 

"You look so good today!" You told her, gesturing at her outfit. 

"Thank you! You do too!" she said. Your outfit was not at nice as hers - just some lighter jeans with a long pink sweater on. It was funny that you were matching, without coordinating at all. 

You waved her over to the table you were at, a smaller booth in the back of the shop. It was cute, and had multiple like this one - closed off on 3 sides, cute small pillows on the booth seats, and a large lamp hanging overhead. It was actually a really nice place to study. 

You two sat down, and you closed your laptop as you moved back to where you were sitting. 

"So how have you been? Is there any new tea?" Mina asked, a smirk poking at her lips. 

"I don't know," you said. "Nothing new with people right now, thank goodness." Your luck with drama was not always the best, as it usually was more negative.  Thankfully, though, there hasn't been much drama at all, so it's been good so far, and you told her this. 

"There is this huge project we have to do for my history class, and the partners are assigned. I just hope I get someone good for that." 

"Well, that's good," she said, her smile sweet. "I hope that any drama that comes your way is good drama that you can tell me about, and I hope your partner is who you hope it is," she said, and her sweet smile quickly became a smirk. You both laughed. 

There wasn't anyone on your mind that came up at her comment, but you hoped that soon someone could fill that void. 

The next class finally rolled around, and so the partners were posted on the board at the beginning of class. Since everyone was already crowded around the paper, you decided to set down your things and then come back. You maneuvered your way around the people that were done looking at it, and found yourself in front of the paper. You scrolled down the list of names. 

Denki Kaminari, Sero Hanta

Bakugo Katsuki, Izuku Midoriya

Yn/Ln, Eijiro Kirishima

Kyoka Jiro, Momo Yaoyurozu

You didnt look much after that, since you saw your own name. If you were being completely honest, you didn't know a lot of these people name-to-face. You would have to find Kirishima, whoever that was. The hope that they were someone good still remained in the back of your mind as you looked around the classroom, walking back to your seat. 

Once Mr. Aizawa started calling out attendance, an idea popped up in your head. You would have to pay attention to figure out who Kirishima was, especially since they would be one of the first ones to get called. A few moments passed until you finally heard Mr. Aizawa call out their name. You looked around the room to find that the person who responded was a bright red-haired guy towards the back of the class. 

You realized you would have to talk to him after class, and your anxiety shot up. 'I need to push through this and just talk to him,' you thought to yourself. Calming yourself, you took out your laptop to take some notes on the requirements for the project. You didn't want to look, but you hoped that he was taking some notes of his own at least. 

After you made a whole rubric and watched a few videos, you felt more prepared about the requirements. 

"The next few classes will be structured so that you are learning about National History Day and the requirements for the project, because apparently I have to show you those. Also that way you aren't learning anything new while also trying to do this entire project," Mr. Aizawa stated, his tone laced with boredom and fatigue. Contrastingly, his statement brought a few smiles to the students. Class time for a project would be a great way to get ahead on it. 

Tentatively, you raised your hand. 

"Yes, Ms. L/N?" Mr. Aizawa asked. 

"I was wondering if we would be able to move closer to our partners so that we could use this time to work with them?" you asked, your voice a lot quieter than it normally was. 

"Yes, you may," he answered. "As long as you are still quiet and not making too much noise. This is supposed to be a lecture class, so it's supposed to be quiet except for me, but I'm nice today."

A nice smile was brought to your lips, despite the anxious butterflies flitting around in your stomach. You snuck a glance back up at Kirishima, and found that he was looking at you as well. Quickly you turned away, your cheeks flushing red. You realized that you needed to talk to him, though, and turned back around. 

"Do you want me to move up there?" you mouthed at him. He gave you a thumbs up and a smile in response. 

"Okay, you may get started," Mr. Aizawa told the class. You packed up your things other than your open laptop and got up from your seat to move closer to Kirishima. 

"Hi," you said as you placed your laptop down in the seat next to him. 

"Hi," he replied. Out of the corner of your eye you saw that he was looking you up and down. Your skin erupted with goosebumps, and you set down your bag behind the seat. You pulled the chair next to him out and sat down, re-logging into your laptop. 

"Do you know what topic you want to do?" you asked Kirishima, turning to him. On your laptop was open the list of different topics you thought might be good. 

"Right to business, huh?" he chuckled, taking a glance at your laptop. You laughed with him. 

"Well, we have the time now, I'd rather use it and have to work less outside of class," you explained. 

"That's... valid," he decided. "I wasn't quite sure yet, was there anything you had in mind?" 

"Well..." you began. 

The two of you ended up going with the Civil Rights Movement, which wasn't exactly the least common topic, but it was perfect for the theme of the project and you had decided that you were going to make the best presentation you could possibly make. Soon, though, the clock was close to the time the bell rang, and so you had decided to wrap up. 

"Since we're partners for this project, do you wanna work on it outside of class? This might be the only class time we have to work on it," you told him. 

"Yeah, that's fine," Kirishima said. 

"Okay great," you paused, opening your phone. "Do you wanna put your number in and I can text you?" 

"Yeah, sure," he said, taking your phone from your hand offering it to him. Quickly he typed in his number and his name, and then handed back your phone. It wasn't a moment too soon, either, because the bell rang right then. 

"Awesome, thank you!" Closing your laptop and putting it in your bag, you shot a sweet smile at Kirishima. This time, he smiled back. 

The walk back to your place wasn't that bad, and with his smile in your mind, you felt like you were back in no time.

That night you couldn't sleep. Turning over, you checked the clock, and it read: 

1:03

You groaned as you turned back over. You had been doing so all night, and you were tired of it. You turned on your phone to see if you had any notifications. There weren't. 

'Oh shoot,' you said aloud in the dark. Of course there weren't going to be any notifications. First of all, it was 1AM, and second of all, you were the one who had his number. Not the other way around. You went to contacts and found his name. You clicked on the info button and went to message. 

'Hey, it's Y/N - can't sleep so I figured I'd text you even if you aren't up - if you see this, I was wondering if you are free tomorrow after class to work together for a bit on our project? If not it's fine, just let me know. Thanks!' You sat there with the message in the draft box, not yet sent. Finally, your 1AM self decided that it would be a great idea and sent the message. You closed the app and turned off your phone, setting it down on the nightstand next to you. Turning over once again, you closed your eyes and tried to sleep. 23 minutes later, you received a message. You grabbed your phone off of the nightstand to open a text from Kirishima: 

'Yeah, of course - I have practice but I am definitely free after that. Couldn't sleep either btw' Kirishima responded. 

The butterflies came out of their cocoons in your stomach at his response. You tried to calm the butterflies as you responded, but it was tough when you were trying to schedule studying with him. 

'Okay, when does practice end for you?' you asked. 

You saw the typing bubble pop up after he read your question. 

'Around 7:30' he answered. 

'Jeez, that's kinda late' you replied. 7:30 would be around dinner, possibly after depending on when you made it. 

'Yeah, if you're cool with that?' he asked. 

Probably making a bad decision, you replied: 'Yeah, sure - my place' 

'Ok cool' he answered quickly. 

':)' Ending the conversation, you sent an emoji, put your phone down, and went to attempt to sleep again. 

The next day went by extremely slow. 

You weren't exactly happy about the late study time, but you weren't exactly opposed, either. Throughout the day, though, you watched as the time ticked by, taking as long as it possibly could, it seems. Your classes never seemed to end, the assignments and lectures dragged on and didn't help to pass the time, either. Finally, though, you were able to pack up your things and get back to your place. On your way home, you texted Kirishima your address. He probably wouldn't see it, but it will be there when he's done with practice. 

When you got home, you rewrote your notes from your classes and got started on a few papers and assignments. Once you were done, you got started on making dinner, which was around 7. You weren't exactly the best cook, so it took you a lot longer to make things, but you got it done. 

You had started the sauce for spaghetti, when you heard the doorbell ring. Your roomates wouldn't be home tonight, since they were going to a party. Expecting only one person to be at the door, you walked over and opened it. 

There he was. Kirishima. And he was... wet?

"Sorry I'm late, I had to shower after practice," he said. "Took me a bit longer than I wanted to." 

Quickly you glanced over at the clock to see what time it was. Chuckling, you said, "It's not even 8 yet."

"Oh, shit, my clocks run a bit fast. Forgot about that," he replied sheepishly.

"That's okay," you said, moving aside so he could step through. As he did, you took your split second of a chance to glance at him up and down. He was dressed comfortably (you couldn't blame him, he was just coming from practice) in sweatpants and a black t-shirt. The t-shirt was school merch, with the logo printed large on the front. 

He walked in enough to close the door, so once you did, you started walking back to the kitchen where you were finishing up making dinner. 

"You can sit down in here if you want, you don't have to be a lurker," you told him, chuckling. "None of the girls are gonna be home tonight, so we have some privacy." 

"Oh, sorry," he said. "I didn't want to intrude."

"That's fine, you're in here now, so you might as well get comfortable. Plus, I'm almost done with spaghetti if you want some," you offered. 

"I might take you up on that offer," he said. While you stirred the sauce, you could hear him behind you sitting in one of the seats at the counter. Your laptop and a few paper sources were also over on the counter. 

A few minutes later, the sauce was done, and the noodles were now in the strainer in the sink. 

"How much do you want?" you asked Kirishima. 

"I can get it," he said. "I don't want to take too much." 

"Okay," you said, grabbing out plates from the cabinet. You left the door open so that he could grab one too, and you went to grab your own food. 

You sat down at the counter where your laptop was, and when he came and sat down next to you, he said, "Wow, this looks really good y/n. Thank you."

"Of course," you replied. 

Since it was already late, the study session went by pretty fast. The two of you were getting a lot of work done. 

When you took a pause, you glanced over at the clock, which read: 11:24

"Oh my gosh, you need to get back and get some sleep!" you exclaimed, not realizing how long you had been working for. "We have been working for way too long!" 

"It's fine, no worries," he reassured you. "You do too, though, okay?" His gaze was soft as he looked at your panicked face. He must have been tired after almost 3 hours of work, plus it being after practice. This was normal for you, but you didn't know if it was for him. His soft gaze had to have been from tiredness, you told yourself, trying to push the butterflies and blush away. 

"Okay, I will, but you need to get home first." You told him. 

"Alright," he decided. 

Even though his room was within walking distance from yours, you drove him home (because it was so late, you told yourself. Definitely not because you like him). In the walk back to his room from your car, you both listened to the light sounds of the night. It was sweet and calming after studying for so long. 

"Thanks for coming over and working with me," you told Kirishima. 

"Thank you for inviting me, and your spaghetti was great, too," he told you. 

"Definitely. We should do this again," you suggested. 

"For sure. Maybe my place next time?" he asked. 

"Yeah, sure." 

"Awesome. I'll text you."

His last glance at you of the night was one where he was smiling, and it filled you up with a warmth inside that you couldn't get rid of all the way home. That warmth helped you to sleep better than you had most nights at school yet. 

3 weeks later and almost completely done with your project, you closed your laptop for the night. Kirishima was next to you, finishing up his last bit he needed for the presentation. 

"This Friday was a bit rough, huh?" Kirishima asked you. 

"Yeah, definitely. Classes lately have not been fun," you replied, a small smile sneaking onto your face. 

"Glad we're almost done, though - this project will definitely be worth it once we're entirely finished," he commented. 

"I did enjoy spending this time together, though," you said, trying to bring a positive aspect back to the topic.

"Same, I'm really glad we're partners," Kirishima said, his face flushing a pink where normally you never saw that. He turned away quickly, and you did too, smiling a bit at his blush. 

Tonight you were dressed a bit nicer, since you were coming from dinner with an old friend, and you decided not to change. He was dressed nicer too, but you weren't quite sure why. It was definitely getting to you though, since normally you both dressed casual when you studied together. 

"Hey," he said, clearing his throat. "Um, so normally I would ask if you wanted to study sometime this weekend, but since we're almost done with the project, would you like to go on a date with me instead?" 

Immediately your heart swelled, suddenly your stomach was filled with hundreds of flitting butterflies and your face was hot, blush lighting up your face with red. 

"Yes, I would love to," you said, the wave of joy finally breaking with a huge ecstatic smile on your face. 

Kirishima's face lit up with red, almost as bright as his fiery hair. He proceeded to celebrate by jumping into the air as high as he could, pumping his fists in the air. 

"YES! Okay, awesome!" He almost yelled, his excitement making you giggle. 

"Okay, I'll pick you up tomorrow, then?"

"Yes, I'm free tomorrow so that should be okay," you told him, a cheesy grin stuck on your face. "Text me any other details I might need, okay?" 

"Okay, awesome," he replied, his excitement still clearly showing on his face, also still bright red as well. 

Soon after that he drove home, and when he stepped out the door to leave, you closed the door and pressed your back against it, standing there for a minute with a wild grin. Your emotions were running high, and you stepped away from the door only to jump around cheering in your front hallway for a bit. 

The next day was the longest you have ever been through. He texted you in the morning that he was going to pick you up at 6, and that you could dress casual (because you asked him what you needed to wear). However, after waking up at 8 with a free day ahead of you, you didn't know what to do with yourself. Somehow, though, you managed to fill your day (partly because you were in a call with Mina half the morning, describing the situation and her giving you advice) and you were ready by 5:30 for Kirishima to arrive. You had decided to wear a dressier t-shirt with leggings. 

Before 6:00 rolled around, Kirishima got to your place and walked up to your door, and before he got to knock on it (he took a second to hype himself up before he knocked on your door), you opened it and saw him standing there in a cute white shirt with black pants on. The outfit accentuated his figure well, and you could tell he was strong, and his muscles were toned. His bright red hair was fluffy, like he normally has it, and he donned a cute smile as he checked you out as well. 

"Wow... you look really pretty," he said, blush creeping onto his cheeks. Your eyes were planted on his, and you could see he couldnt take his off of your shirt, which was a low, V-cut shirt and helped to show off your cleavage a bit. 

You laughed as you replied, "Thank you, you do too." 

This finally brought his eyes back up to your face, and the blush that was creeping up just onto his cheeks now covered his entire face as he realized he was totally caught. 

"I'm sorry, you just... your outfit is- it's-" he stuttered, trying to explain himself.

"It's okay, I'm the one who wore the outfit," you told him. "Come on, take me where you want to, Kiri," you walked out the door and past him. 

After a second he followed you back to his car, and he unlocked it so you both could get in. 

The ride there wasn't very long, so you only got through a bit of small talk before you saw he was taking you to a mini-put course. You smiled as the memories of the last few times you had gone mini-putting, and you thought it was very cute that it would also be your first date with Kirishima. 

The man who checked the two of you in was old, and he could tell that you were on a date together. He had a very dopey smile on while you both got putters and balls, and when you were walking out the door, he called, "Have fun, you lovebirds!" When the door shut, both of your faces were bright red, but you looked at each other and burst out into laughter.

Still laughing, you walked over to the first hole. This one was probably the easiest, being the most straightforward with only a few obstacles. After that, though, it only got harder. 

The theme of the place was cute - it was a bit plain, being that it was outdoors-themed, with a few water features, but it was cute and it was fun. There were only a couple other people there, one group being a cute older couple that was almost done by the time you and Kirishima had started, and the other group being a small family that was about mid-way through the course. It was nice, though, because it meant that the two of you could go at your own pace, and talk about the things you wanted to, and just have fun together without any interruptions. 

At each hole, you tried to get Kiri to go first so that you could stand behind him and sneak a few looks. Sometimes it worked, but other times he would catch you and laugh, or he would refuse (so that he could do the same thing, even though you definitely caught him more times than he caught you). 

The evening was filled with laughter, teasing, and fun, and in the end, you both tied. At the last hole, Kirishima was in the lead by 1, and his first putt missed the hole by inches. He ended with 2 on the last hole. When your last turn came up, you gave it your best shot, even though you thought you weren't going to win. Your ball ended up making it in one shot, and when you went to pick up your ball out of the hole, Kirishima was there, his mouth wide open in shock. In the adrenaline of your comeback, you walked over to him. 

"Cat's game," you whispered in his ear, planted a quick kiss on his cheek, and gently closed his jaw as you did so. 

Quickly you walked back into the check-in building, the heat in your cheeks rising extremely fast after that. You put back your ball and putter, told the older man that you would be right back, and rushed to the restroom. While you were in there, you took a second and washed your hands, calming yourself down. 

You hadn't bothered to see if Kirishima followed you into the building, so when he burst into the bathroom, you were only half shocked. The shock only hit you when you turned around, your back to the sink, and he grabs your hips.

"Can I kiss you?" He asks, his face red with blush, his voice deep, but a little desperate.

"Yes," you responded, your voice shaky with shock and emotion. The clash of his lips against yours was electric, sparking throughout your body. One of his hands reaches up to your cheek, while the other stays at your hip. Slowly, the one at your hip moves from its position towards your stomach, where he slides his hand underneath your shirt and up, his thumb brushing against the bottom of your cleavage. At the same time, he moves his lips from yours and towards your jaw, moving down to your neck. He finds your sweet spot and begins to suck, earning a small moan from you. 

"Kiri.." you start, but trail off when he continues. 

"Don't worry, no one's coming," he says, trying to reassure you. 

"Kiri, no," you pause, making him stop. "I want you, and I want more, I just don't want it here, in this bathroom at a mini-putt-course."

His bright red eyes change from hurt to confusion, to bright again when you tell him this. 

"Ohhh," he says, pulling away gently. "Shoot, and I still have to pay for the date, too. Good idea," he commends you, which earns a laughing smile from you both. 

Thankfully, when you leave the bathroom, the old man is turned around, reading something. Together, you walk up to the counter. Kiri pays for the time at the course, and together again you walk out and to his car. 

When you sit down, Kiri takes a second before he starts the car to move your hair out of your face and behind your ear. The contact is filled with electricity, and makes you shiver, only being able to hope he didn't notice. After putting the car into drive and pulling out of the parking lot, he puts his hand on your thigh, and you shiver even worse than you did seconds ago, goosebumps lighting up your skin. Discreetly, you try and close your knees to hide the heat pooling between your legs. You realize it doesn't quite work, though, when you see his smirk, and he proceeds to move his hand a bit further up. 

Once you get to his place, he moves his hand from your thigh to put the car in park, and you immediately miss the contact. You don't have to miss it for long, though, when you get inside.

The door barely closes before his hands and his lips are on you again, making your skin light up with electricity. He starts to suck on your sweet spot again, which also earns another moan from you. You can barely get out the next few words, he's making you feel so good already.

"Kiri.." you try to tell him. This time it works - his head perks up, ready to listen to you.

"Kiri, where is your room?"

The simple question ignites a fire in his eyes, lust being the fuel. Quickly and easily, he picks you up so that he is holding you by your thighs. You wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck to help him, and he takes you to his room.

Gently, he places you on the bed, where you take a breath before you kiss him again, pulling him down on top of you. He takes this and moves his hand onto you again, one on the bed by your head, the other carefully placed against your stomach. Your hands are in his hair, tugging and pulling it, showing him how much more you want.

Once again, he moves his hand up and under the bottom of your shirt, just underneath the cup of your bra, his thumb barely brushing it. The slight touch sparks electricity through your body, and it pools in your core.

You push back at his collar, and he lets you sit up enough to take off your shirt. His eyes are on you the whole time, and once you get it off, his jaw drops once more.

"Holy shit, you're beautiful," he says, still not taking his eyes off of you.

"Hold on a minute, though," he continues, once you reach out towards his collar again. "Are you sure you want this?"

The question brings back that warmth he shared from his smile weeks ago, and it was something even as simple as asking for consent. That warmth ensured that the fire burning inside of you right now would never go out.

"Kiri, I have wanted you since the first day we became partners for that project," you stated. "Yes, I am sure I want this."

"Okay, good, because I have, too," he says, and as you finally pull him down onto you, at the last second you flip him over so that he is on the bed and you're on top.

He grins wildly as you start unbuttoning his pants, and he helps you by taking off his shirt and tossing it to the side.

You pull down his boxers to reveal his erection, and his huge cock. Your core throbs at the sight, and you fight the urge to lick your lips, failing miserably.

When you place your lips around the tip of his length, Kiri throws his head back with a loud moan. Slowly, you start to bob your head up and down, sucking gently as you did. Your hand stroked the rest of him as well, and you could tell the sensation was doing lots of things to Kirishima. He was moaning so loud, you were sure the neighbors could hear, but you didn't want to stop. Kiri tried (and failed) not to thrust up into your throat, but you didn't mind it too much.

"Im.. so close-" he said, just a few seconds before you felt his white hot release in your mouth. When you were sure you had sucked him dry, you swallowed, earning yourself another groan and a wild grin from Kirishima.

"My turn," he said. He helps you to unclasp your bra, your cleavage falling out and bouncing in front of his face. Quickly he flipped you over, so that you were underneath him, your back against the bed. Contrastingly slow, he pulled your leggings down your legs, revealing your underwear and soaking pussy.

"Wow, all for me?" He started, pulling aside your underwear and rubbing a single finger through your folds. This immediately follows by a groan from you.

"Yes- Kiri, all for- for you," you just barely manage to stutter out once he puts that finger inside of you and starts to pump it in and out. The action makes you bite your lip, trying to stop the loud moans escaping you.

When Kiri sees this, he grabs your chin and pulls it to face him, still not stopping his fingers inside of you.

"Don't hide your voice, I want to hear every single sound you make tonight. And no one is going to hear but me," he says, and you let go, loud moans breaking free from your lips.

"Atta girl," he praises, which only goes down to your pussy, where he adds another finger inside of you now. He hits your G-spot every time, curling his fingers just so that he can get it. And he definitely does - you were close to your release.

"Kiri-" you warn, feeling the string of ecstacy being pulled tight, about to snap. "Don't stop-"

You gasp as your orgasm hits you like a waterfall, ecstacy and electricity rushing through you as that string snaps. You cum on his fingers, the stringy substance coating his fingers thickly. You ride your orgasm out on his fingers, and once you're done, he puts his fingers in his mouth and tastes your sweet release.

"You taste so fucking sweet," he praises you. You're still panting from your orgasm off his fingers, and it doesn't help when he pulls your underwear off your hips, tosses it to the floor, and pushes your legs up so that your knees are almost touching your shoulders.

He lines up his cock with your entrance, and your eyes widen as you realize you are about to take his monster of a cock inside you. He passes through your folds a few times before he slowly enters you, one inch at a time. He gets through just the tip before he stops so that you can adjust to the pleasant burn he gives you. Once you're adjusted well, he pushes inside of you just an inch further. He pushes down to the hilt inside of you, and you gasp again as his dick hits your cervix easily.

You adjust to the burn quickly, and thankfully because he begins to pump in and out of you, earning multiple pornographic moans from you. You can feel the buildup of pressure already, building up like a wall about to crash.

Kirishima drives into your pussy, moans releasing from both of you as you get closer to your high. His hands roam your body, one cupping and kneadind your breast and nipple, the other holding onto your waist.

He fucks into you harder and harder, faster and faster, until you can feel the cracks in the wall, a dam about to burst. Your moans mesh together as you both reach your high simultaneously. The dam breaks, erupting as his does too, resulting in a mix of his and your release together at the base of his cock, still hilt deep inside of you. Your legs shake from your release, and the last few pumps of your orgasms fall out of you both.

You lay on the bed in ecstacy as Kirishima pulls out of your ruined pussy, gets up from you and goes to the bathroom to cleanup. He comes back with a towel for you, and helps you to clean up the mess that is the two of you. Once he is done, he puts your previously discarded clothes into the hamper, and gives you a pair of shorts and a too-big shirt for you to wear, and he changes into a loose shirt and boxers as well. He helps you change, and when the two of you are done, he climbs into the bed next to you and places a kiss on your forehead.

"So, does this mean I'm your boyfriend now?" He whispers. You turn around and push his forehead lightly back to play with him.

"I think we need to play another game to determine that," you reply, a coy smile playing at your lips, despite recent events.

"Or..." Kiri trails off, trying to think of a comeback or an easier situation.

"Or... what?" You tease him, giggling as you watch his eyes light up with an idea.

"Or I could just fuck you again, except harder," he states, and this time you can't tell if he's serious or not.

"Harder?" You whisper, thinking about how he could possibly do that after what he did tonight.

"Yeah, although we might have to wait until the morning to do that, cause then you can walk," he says, his tone nothing but factual. He places one last kiss on your cheek this time, spooning you in the bed. The kiss makes the warmth inside of you burn brighter, never to go out again.

[mvltisstuff]

connection - oliver stark.

summary: oliver and y/n’s fragrance ad.

oliver stark x reader

warnings: alludes to sex, sexual tension, way too sexy, fingering

oliver and y/n had been working on a campaign for a couple weeks, the tv stars being the perfect pair to do the sexy shoot and become to ambassadors for the brand.

as usual, they were surrounded by cameras in a random filming location, white sheets under their bodies as y/n lay on top of oliver, her head against his chest and hers pressed against his abdomen.

she picked her head up lightly so her artist could edit her lip liner, and then placed it back down. oliver’s hand brushed over her scalp lightly, not wanting to mess up her hair.

y/n could feel his heartbeat with her ear pressed against his ribcage, the calm pounding that was made just for her. the cameras clicked in her face, and one of the directors handed oliver the cologne bottle.

she was instructed to lay flat, their legs intertwined as she props her chin up onto his torso. her hands were placed onto his sides, and oliver led his hands up and down her back. he held the bottle gently in his hands, using y/n’s back as the backdrop for the bottle. the camera shot from her shoulder blades to right above her tailbone. oliver threw the bottle to the side.

he placed his hand under her arm on her side to help her sit up, and then gently leaned her back against the perfectly set up pillows on the bed. you’d think she was almost incapable of moving on her own, the way his mind instantly went to helping her in the easiest tasks.

oliver had on a black pair of boxers, pulled down to his hips and contouring his sharp v-line. he placed his palm up against the lace of y/n’s lingerie bra, his fingers brushing against the side of the fabric. the corner of her mouth lifted up at him not even being able to control himself around people.

they handed y/n the perfume bottle next, her long nails clinking against the side of the glass. she gave it a few test sprays before oliver dove his face into her neck, brushing the hair behind her ear slightly. his hand was up toward her collarbones. her mouth slightly draped open, the sprayed a little onto the other side of her neck with her other hand buried into his loose curls.

oliver wanted to stay laying down for as long as possible, knowing he was fucked when he got up and everyone saw how hard he was. meanwhile, y/n was hoping she could cover up how turned on she got by him.

after several more shots that would just tease the couple even more, the director wrapped up the shoot and people started packing away their camera gear. y/n and oliver were led away to their shared dressing room, there only being one in the building.

y/n was the first to be in there, as oliver had stopped to talk to one of the film coordinators on the way. she stopped herself in the room in front of the mirror, grabbing her phone. she checked a few things before opening her camera.

she stood in front of the mirror, positioning her body to look the most appetizing that it could. she adjusted her curls and made sure to get a perfect angle to showcase everything the outfit brought out on her.

oliver nudged the door open, somehow managing to not make a noise when he saw his fiancée taking pictures in the mirror. her back was to the door, so he stepped up to her quietly.

once his back was almost touching hers, he smirked up at her in the mirror, admiring her focused face in taking the photos. his hands slipped around her waist, his fingers trailing against the soft skin. when she clicked her phone off, his hands slid up to her tits, giving them a good grip before burying his face into her neck, sucking intensely on the skin.

y/n let out a sigh as she turned around, her hand grabbing onto his hip as his scooped around her ass.

“you’re so pretty,” he whispered in her ear.

“that’s all you, baby.” y/n replies, and he leads her over to the couch in the room.

“i’ve been waiting to get you in here.” he smiled sweetly, despite the vigor behind his words.

“i can tell,” y/n joked, directing her vision to his crotch and bringing her hand down to just run over lightly, making him shiver under her touch.

“yeah?” he questioned, his body still hovering over hers. without hesitation, he dipped his fingers under the waistband of her cheeky panties, circling his fingers and collecting the wetness of her pussy. “i can tell, too.”

“shut up,” y/n laughs, pushing his hand down further. two of his fingers push into her, and he pulls them in and out at a steady face. he watches as her mouth drops, her pretty lips being the perfect landing spot for his.

he connects their lips together, a perfect rhythm between the two as she works on his bottom lip. she flips her tongue into his mouth as his fingers continue to work inside of her. he kept pumping them in and out before slipping them out. she moaned in disapproval, but couldn’t help but smirk when he licked his fingers clean in an instant.

“are you kidding me.” y/n props herself up on her shoulders, looking up at him. he leans down to kiss her, and she can taste herself on his soft, pink lips.

“just you wait, gorgeous.” his eyes practically paralyze her. his gaze was enough to stop the world from spinning and make him the only thing to exist. “just you wait.”

[kiwi-but-the-bird-not-the-fruit]

Hii!

Could you do more nefero and F!Reader?

Hallo! yes ofc love these two

Male nefera x fem! Reader

She/her

Using [Name] as substitute for y/n

Fluff/Simp Nefero/sensual insinuations (hope that's alright it's not that strong but it implied they sleep together)

Headcanons! ( I liked the headcanon I made for clawdeen x reader requests so I'm making it for this couple. I hope you like it!!)

This is the present 18/19 pair (guess who's older hehe)

(If it's not what you wanted and you wanted just Fluff headcanon or short fluffy story,please request it again with a promt that can help me and I'll write the fluffy story for you, I don't like the thought that it's not what you wanted and I like to correct if the sensual insinuations made you uncomfortable )

(I'll only make changes if anyone just wanted Fluff and didnt seem to specify, only time I'll change something but you'll have to request again)

__________________________________________

-Nefero is the type of boyfriend to buy you anything you tell him you want but it's not In a "buy me this that i told you" it's a "i'm thinking about buying this book/eyeshadow palette"t and you want his opinion and a day later he's got it for you

"Nefie you really didn't have to-" you were interrupted "Nonese my jewel I wanted too plus I have to say that this pallet will look amazing with your makeup"

- he loves to be chest to chest with you hugging, seeing your gorgeous face/eyes and soft lip gloss covered lips makes him go crazy, so he'll end up kissing you and your neck while you giggle and put your hands through his hair sometimes tugging at the root cause that makes him melt.

- cuddling you is his hobby, you as the little spoon as he holds your waist his head in the crock of your neck inhaling your vanilla perfume, his hands will then go to your hip dips and he'll just have them there squeezing them at times while your busy playing a silly phone game.

"Yeah Nefie?" You ask "Nothing my jewel just wanted to squish you hehe" he giggles his voice vibrating at the back of your neck making you blush cause wow is he fine especially with his morning voice! Just thinking about it makes you melt

-speaking of squeezing your hip dips he'll squeeze them if your sitting on his lap facing him while you prep his face with kisses or when watching drama shows you turned around, he love your thighs looking at them, sitting on the floor in between them and if your wearing shorts he'll kiss the inner part of your thighs, he knows it's one of your favorite things you let him do.

-Nefero always goes with what you want and wants him to do with you. He's your personal sugar daddy but he's your actual boyfriend that NEEDS to spoil you rotten but you always stay humble.

-bless the undead soul of any manster that tries to flirt with you. He's towering over them like it's nobody's business. The same goes for you to any ghoul you are also tall so you can bring a ghoul down especially with your glare. It's not like they can steal him from you he's practically one step closer to tattooing your hickeys you give him

-he'll take you on dates every Saturday night to you guys favorite restaurants yes restaurants he'll tell his servants to make a wheel with all the options and you spin it, he loves how you light up and clap your hands in excitement

- when you and him go out on theses dates he'll wait outside sitting at the edge of your bed holding one of your plushies on his lap,as you get change you'll then model for him in three dresses and he decides which one goes well with his and you give your take,it's a nice conversation of just fashion coordination.

-Nefero can't deny the way you make him feel 24/7,365 so he's giving you mountains of gifts books,flowers, perfumes, clothes anything he thinks you'll like and they he just KNOWS you'll love

-Nefero loves your feminine style the skirts and dresses, jumpers with embroidery, bell bottoms with a cute top,he's on his knees

-His favorite thing you do is when you wear a red lipstick and kiss his face and neck letting every jealous ghoul know that he's yours.

-another last thing for now is that you lay on his body when sleeping over and just be calm as he strokes your hair happy to have you with him,he thinks great fully that you actually gave him a chance even after hearing all his dumb stuff he did he's just so thankful for having his jewel, his queen the goddess sent from heaven be his one and only love.

[dontsh0vethesun]

captured

kinktober 2023 masterlist

wandanat x reader

18+: alcohol use, smut; kidnap fantasy, cnc, threesome, intox play, drunk sex, restraints, blindfolds, mommy!wanda, daddy!natasha, strap use, fingering, face sitting, dom/sub, degradation, slight dollification, voyeurism, very slight spit kink

wc: 2k

Natasha and Wanda watched you drunkenly amble towards the bar’s bathroom, making your way through the crowds of people with stumbled steps. They smirked at the sight of your retreating body, your head blurred and hazy - perfect for the evening they’d planned. 

When they’d taken the three of you to the bar you were unaware of their plan; you took the numerous drinks they passed to you throughout the evening, swallowing them down with your demeanour growing less coordinated with each passing minute. They adored the sight. The way you grew ever closer to them, using Wanda’s shoulder to keep your head upright with slurred murmurings in reply to their conversations. 

You were their perfect little doll, a toy so easily pliable and desperate to go along with their each and every want. 

“Ready?” Natasha asked Wanda, taking her hand to lead the way outside. 

“More than ready,” she returned, smiling at the thought. Just the knowing of what was to come had her thighs clenching together beneath the table. 

When you eventually made your way back out to them you found the table you’d once occupied to be empty. The glasses you’d been drinking from were left discarded with the only reminder of their presence shown in the lipstick print on Wanda's tumbler. 

Making your way outside was tricky with the groups of people getting in your way and with the drunken tiredness sinking in it was hard not to begin to panic at the loss of your girlfriends. You thought that, perhaps, they were waiting outside but once you’d pushed through the doorway into the cold night air they were nowhere to be seen. 

The screen of your phone was bleary when you scrolled through to their contacts, unable to form a text message before a body was pressed to your back. 

You stumbled into their harsh hold, the strong arm that wrapped around your waist. 

“Keep quiet,” the voice rasped against your cheek. You could feel the heat of their breath against you through the baring of their teeth and you whimpered against the hand that forced you into silence, covering your mouth with their palm. 

You had no control over the tears that glossed over your eyes; in fact, you had no control at all. You were at their mercy, their strength withstood any fight you mustered up as you were led towards a car that seemed familiar. But with the fear and the liquor it was hard to make much sense of anything. 

You were pushed into the back seat and immediately pulled down until your head was resting in a lap you recognised. Though not much was making sense within your drunken daze, the scent was a source of comfort. Floral perfume and coconut lotion, the car air freshener that smelled of cinnamon and pine as well as a distinct musk of cologne from the leather jacket that lay near. 

You let your eyes close, listening to the low-volume radio music while slender fingers stroked through your hair and words were spoken that didn’t float into your consciousness. 

Once the engine began to dim into silence, you let hands wrap material around your face; your vision blacked out and hands useless with the rope that tied around your wrists. Those strong hands graced you again with a tug that pulled you to stand on a cobbled driveway before they took a possessive hold of your waist to guide you forward. 

“C’mon, sweet girl,” Wanda spoke as she twisted her keys into the lock of the front door, accompanying Natasha’s hands with a touch to your lower back. You hummed at the feeling of her soft lips that pressed to your neck whilst you were ushered toward the bedroom, leaning your head away to provide her access which she accepted gratefully with the sharpness of her teeth digging into you.  

By the time your head was against familiar pillows, you were achingly ready for anything that was to come next. You didn't see her approach but you soon felt Wanda’s body positioning itself above yours, her knees planted on either side of your hips. 

Her lips claimed yours eagerly and she laughed against you when you uselessly tried to hold onto her, struggling with your bound hands and obstructed sight. You thought she might offer a little reprieve but, instead, her hand on your wrist only lifted them above your head, pushing them firmly into the pillows to keep them still. 

Your lips moved together with fervour, her tongue pushed against yours while her free hand groped along any part of your body she could reach. You let the second pair of hands pull your trousers away from you exposing you to the air around you and the hungry eyes that took in the sight. 

“Such a perfect little slut,” Natasha breathed as she approached, keeping her gaze on the heated kiss whilst she took a swig from the bottle of vodka in her grasp.

“Mm, she is,” Wanda nodded, pulling away for you both to catch your breath. “And so well behaved.”

When you were allowed to see again you were rewarded with the sight of Wanda above you, her upper body bare and her fingers wrapped around the neck of the glass bottle. Natasha held onto your jaw and took in the sight of your pleading eyes when you watched Wanda take a drink, wiping her lips that glistened afterwards. 

“Open up,” the redhead rasped, forcing your jaw to slacken with a rough digging of her nails into your skin before taking the bottle for herself to hold it above you. The harshness of the alcohol burned your throat when you swallowed it down, choking on the liquid she forced into your throat. You drank as best you could from where you lay and the women laughed at the way it made your eyes water as it dribbled from your lips, wetting your chin and your neck where it trickled down. 

“Messy girl,” Natasha laughed before claiming your lips with a dominant kiss, licking the excess with a hum; the way her tongue glided over the thin skin of your throat to clean you up and her teeth sucked marks into your flesh made you shudder. You were so consumed by her actions that you were hardly aware of Wanda moving to your side, taking her new place with a hand cupping your bare cunt. 

You moaned into her mouth at the finger that slid through your soaked folds, teasing your entrance and flicking over your clit. 

“She’s soaked,” Wanda muttered, easing a finger into you as Natasha pulled away to rid herself of her clothing. “Mommy and daddy got you wet, huh?” 

“Mhm,” you nodded, lifting your hips into the hand that toyed with your throbbing clit. “Fuck, mommy, please,” you whined, craving a firmer touch than what she was giving. Your hands grasped the pillow in your fists, desperate for more and itching to touch her - to pull her into you. 

“So needy,” Natasha spoke from across the room. You craned your neck to catch a glimpse of her, her naked body situating a strap-on around her hips. “We caught you, sweetheart. So take what we give you.” 

“Yes, daddy,” you all but whispered. “I’m sorry.”

Wanda was feeling generous, especially considering your obedient behaviour, so pushed two svelte digits into your wanting hole, rubbing your bud with the pad of her thumb perfectly. You sighed at the way her rhythm never faltered, how the curling of her fingers felt so sublime. The other woman watched intently, made ravenous by the scene playing out in front of her; your pussy taking fast-moving fingers hungrily, covering them with the glistening slick between your legs. 

Both of the older women listened to the sounds pulled from you, the ramblings of their titles uttered into the room, and the lewd, wet sound of your cunt getting filled with Wanda’s fingers. Your pathetic body that squirmed at the pleasurable touch made them ache for you, their own wetness pooling. Natasha kneeled between your legs, creeping her hands under your shirt to palm at your tits, pulling your pert nipples with the fast-paced beating of your heart beneath her hands. 

“Cum all over your mommy’s fingers,” she uttered, scraping her teeth over the soft skin of your belly. “Bet you’re so desperate to get your pretty cunt fucked by your daddy, hm?” she asked, huffing a laugh at your feeble whimper and the nod you gave her. “Pathetic little fucktoy.” 

The words washed over you with your orgasm closely following before Wanda finally came into sight again with her tongue licking her fingers clean and her naked, sopping cunt against you where she straddled your waist. 

Natasha soon directed her attention to the other woman, putting on a show that you enjoyed. Her hands grabbed at her breasts and her lips trailed over her neck with Wanda moaning out at the suck to her pulsepoint. Blunt nails trailed down her sides before a musing fingertip made its way to her slit to find the wetness you’d created - she knew that she was the same. 

Wanda yearned for your mouth but the way you stared up at them was too entertaining to pass up the opportunity to prolong it a little further; they let their moans fall onto your ears and Wanda leaned over you teasingly to grab the bottle from the bedside table beside your head. She offered a drink to the woman behind her who took a sip before she did the same, taking another before hovering her face above yours. 

She prised your mouth open forcefully before releasing the harsh liquid past your lips; vodka pooled on your tongue in a possessive mix with her saliva.

“Put your filthy mouth to use, little doll,” she murmured before making her way further up your body to position her cunt above your lips. Whilst she sunk down onto your face, Natasha nudged her cock against your hole, easily inching into you with how dripping you were. She was relentless with the immediate thrusts she fucked you with, rough snapping of her hips burying her dick into you as she played with her own clit. Both women were desperate for their release - their perfect little prey had them aching and wanting. 

Your tongue lapped at her pussy with her sweet taste filling your mouth, lips latched around her swollen bud with a suck that made her moan out your name. One hand held her body upright with a white-knuckled grasp on the headboard, whilst the other gave the same treatment to your wrists, pushing them down with the weight of her body. She kept the antsy moving of your fingers still, loving the way you so desperately wanted to touch her. 

The walls of your pussy pulled Natasha’s cock into you and she reveled in the feeling, the wanton rutting of your bucking hips that searched for your climax. The way she held onto you was guaranteed to leave fingertip-sized bruises in its wake; she’d kiss the forming marks later on before diving in to taste you and she’d watch Wanda do the same. 

“You’re taking me so well,” she grunted out, biting into her bottom lip at the nearness of her release. “Your greedy pussy belongs to us,” she added, making you moan against Wanda’s pussy. The vibrations elicited a high-pitched moan above you and a quickening of the grinding of her cunt into your lips.

“God, you’re doing so good, honey,” she stuttered. “So close. Fuck, make your mommy cum.”

You could hear Natasha’s grunts of pleasure and you knew she was close; the heat of it all urged on the tongue that played with Wanda’s clit, that swallowed every drop of her as your own release soaked your daddy’s cock. 

You basked in the loud moan you pulled from the woman atop you, riding her through her orgasm as she filled your mouth with her distinctly sweet taste; you drank it down like honey, gifted to you by the perfect woman who mumbled your name. It wasn’t much longer until Natasha’s grip grew even harsher as she came, riding herself through her high with no regard to the sensitive cunt she fucked into. 

You were just their little toy for the night and you’d take anything they threw your way no matter how painful. Even when, hours later, you were a whimpering and incoherent mess you’d just bathe in their attention.

[lucvly]

can you do chris x influencer gf hcs pls 🤍

— chris with an influencer girlfriend hcs. ⸰ 𖥔 ͙

warnings: fluff, not proofread.

a/n: this is so short My bad. ☹️

— both your fanbases suspected something was going on between you two because you started following each other a while back, and honestly you were soft launching him.

— the soft launch included pictures of your date nights, faceless couple pictures, etc.

— one time you posted a picture to your instagram story without realizing you were wearing fresh love sweatpants and your fans went crazy.

— despite that incident, you both waited until you were ready, and you made one of those couple videos on your channels. “introducing my gf/bf!” it was soo cute & most people in the comments were gushing about how cute you both are.

— when your relationship first started, you both had to sit down and talk about how public you wanted to be just to clear the air about what you were willing to and weren’t willing to post.

— you two have a joint youtube channel where you do vlogs about your life, dates and travels together.

— his personal channel is much more active because he posts with you a lot. he’ll post challenges, random vlogs– at some point you started a prank war on your channel which people loved.

— he’s your personal photographer. he sucked at taking pictures at first but you taught him how and now he takes all your pictures.

— sometimes you don’t even have to ask him for pictures because he’s so willing to take them. he loves doing it + (gets hella cocky because he gets to comment “I TOOK THESE”).

— when you have to go to a public event, he’ll call you to color coordinate outfits LMFAOO he loves matching with you, especially if it means showing you off in public.

— you two do the cutest trends together. you posted a tiktok with him doing a voiceover of your makeup which went absolutely viral because he was clueless.

— the amount of fanpages people have made for you are actually insane omg ??

— chris watches the edits people make of you, it’s his favorite pastime. he acts like he never sees edits but this man stalks fanpages, watches edits, and even showed you fanfiction of you two once.

— you were invited onto the cut the camera podcast one day and people went absolutely feral over it. it was insane. you and chris were lowkey flirting the whole time and just sharing stories about your relationship.

— literally your number one supporter. he loves you immensely so every project you’re a part of, he’s definitely a fan of. you could be selling grass and this man will advertise it on his stories like he’s getting paid.

— your comments are filled with him just hyping you up. he’s your #1 hype man. (“MINE” “i took these btw”).

— he shows you off everywhere. you’re all over his instagram. he has a highlight for you specifically & it’s the cutest thing ever :(.

— he spoils you so badly. anything you want, he’s getting it for you. necklaces, rings, perfumes, etc. all yours.

— you two steal each other’s clothes and people always end up noticing because of videos, tiktoks and pictures & they think it's adorable.

— this man will deadass steal your phone and post pictures on your social media. he’ll post stories on instagram, snapchat, literally anywhere 😭. full on hacks your accounts.

— you’re that internet couple. literally everywhere. the all time favorite internet couple.

[crow-raven-crow]

Heyyy, love your writing!

It’s a bit specific but I was wondering if you could do a Larissa x reader fic where reader takes antidepressants but stopped taking them for whatever reasons then decided to start taking them again and gets really bad serotonin syndrome as her body gets used to the meds again? And Larissa is just concerned. Like just a cute fluff kinda type vibe???

Much love and take care x

𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 - [𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝟏𝟖+]

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

𝐋𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐚 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐟!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: ~1.8k 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: FLUFF, serotonin syndrome (symptoms and definition below), numbness, emptiness, ungrounded feelings, restlessness, crying, soft love, literally so soft i melted writing this i love larissa

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: see ask above

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

AO3 link in title ✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

Serotonin Syndrome - a potentially fatal drug-induced condition caused by too much serotonin in the synapses in the brain. This is caused by a medication or mix of them building up high levels of serotonin.

Signs and symptoms include: restlessness, insomnia, confusion, rapid heart rate, high blood pressure, dilated pupils, loss of muscle coordination, twitching muscles, muscle rigidity, nervousness, sweating, nausea, blurred vision, feeling like you're in a dream like state

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

The covers gave you no comfort tonight - fabrics and scents you usually melted into only stuck to your skin like static. The darkness of the room was casted away by the welcomed silver light of the moon, but the clouds at the edges of your vision only fed restlessness and frustration to you by the spoonful as you turned over for what felt like the thousandth time that night. Your body felt stiff, stuck, tired as you continued to beg it for some rest.

You were back on your antidepressants after long days of contemplation. You didn't think it would be this hard, things never seemed this hard.. The blankness, the dullness that compressed your mind being oh so silent yet all too loud at the same time - the overwhelming presence and lack of your thoughts that stood stationary at the front of your mind pressed on with no will to stop. Your body felt heavy, your bones carrying an ache you wished to forget.

You moved to her side of the bed, bringing your knees close to your chest as you inhaled small pieces of her perfume. For how exhausted you were, the rapid hammering of your heart only served as a reminder of how much longer you could be awake tonight. The pounding in your ears didn't settle no matter how hard you tried to calm your breaths, and the constant inhale and exhale was taking much more out of you than you'd like to admit. You moved the covers off of your body, upset at the layer of sweat that covered your skin, and forced the cool air of the night to shock your system.

As waves of goosebumps appeared across your skin and shivers ran through you, your eyes wandered over to the golden light seeping in from underneath the bedroom door. Your lover sat beyond those walls, a goddess of comfort, a source of haven that you were so grateful to have. You longed to forget this heavy feeling. Running your hands over your legs, you thought of the comforting warmth that sat just past those doors, the gentle kisses, the softest touches, the sanctuary that was just feet away.

You breathed in through your nose, feeling the air swirl in through you until you felt your lungs max out, hoping that the action alone would calm the newfound pit growing in your stomach, and stood as you pushed the air out of your mouth. The long night had slowly turned into a dream to you, the chill you felt under the moonlight only adding to the pull that the golden glow gave to you. You felt weightless as your feet sunk into the rug underneath you, yet the weight in your chest was ever present the closer you got to holding your hand out towards the handle.

Wood, dark and ancient and carved and worn - the only thing that separated you from something you wanted so badly, from someone you wished to melt into. The doorknob shocked your fingertips as you took hold of it, the small spark of light being enough to cause your heart to rage on again. Your lips formed into a thin line, your mind blanking as the sudden thought of going back to the bed faded from your mind - you pushed forward.

The heavy door creaked as it moved, showing its age as your wish to walk into her presence quietly slipped away from you. Your mind acknowledged the fact that you had entered the space completely, but you couldn't help but feel disconnected from yourself - knowing that you had entered a new room, touching the cold planks under your feet, feeling the heat from the roaring flames greeting your side, yet not knowing if you were truly awake.

The door to your shared quarters shut with a click, and your eyes slowly made their way to the concerned figure presented at the desk. Her hair was pure white as the moonlight guided though each strand, but the flames that burned in front of her painted her features in a caramel hue. Her eyes, capsules that carried the ocean in their blues, wandered over your tired figure in growing worry - gliding over your wrinkled, oversized shirt, to the fidgeting of your hands, to the small heaves of your chest. She took in every ounce that you offered her, and damn did she read it all like a book.

"Darling.. Is everything alright..?" Her voice cut through the air like a hot knife to butter, her accent coursing through the room and wrapping you in its safe hold, the love, the worry dripping from it completely unhidden from your soul. It was hard to focus, your eyes moving in slow, blurred circles around the room that made the cloudy edges of your vision ever more present.

"U-Um.." You didn't mean for your voice to crack, didn't mean for it to break and weaken and fade out and run from you since you never wanted anyone to worry, since you never wanted her to worry… But you were hers.. and she was yours, so she knew the truth without asking.. So of course at the first sound of your voice escaping your lips in such a small way she was already up to her feet.

The soft pads of her heels stepping onto the large rug beneath her desk soon faded into heavy clicks against the dark wood floor, growing louder until they stopped in front of you. Her fingertips, gentle and soft with their touch, traced over the curves of each of your wrists. They circled around and traced their way up your arms, the touch grounding you and bringing you back to her.

Your eyes slowly focused on hers as one of her hands came to rest on the curve of your waist, the other moving to cup your cheek. It was easy to melt into her touch, to melt into the present when you were with her. Her thumb traced back and forth against your cheek as her eyes jumped from every little bit of your features, scanning your face with a quiet worry.

It was like your body allowed everything to crumble as you stood there in front of your love, the adoration and true care that radiated from her being all it took to let your true exhaustion show. A shaky sigh left you as your body felt heavy again, and your eyes, now glossy, finally opened again to meet hers.

"Darling..?" You didn't know if it was the way her thumb stopped moving against your cheek as she saw the true emotion in your eyes, or the way that her other hand sprawled out to touch more of your skin, or the way her voice got evermore quieter as she looked at your fragile being, but a choked sob broke through you with no restriction.. then another.. and another.. and suddenly you found the stream near impossible to stop.

"Oh, my love.. Come here, darling - I've got you, I promise.." Her voice lifted you into her trance, safe and warm, as she pulled you into her arms. She pressed small kisses against your hairline, her hands tracing patterns along your back as you pressed into her. Your hands were quick to grab onto the fabric of her dress, holding on as though your life depended on it, to find some sense of reality again. Your crying was quiet, yet wrecked your body with a release it needed as your tears soaked into her grey dress.

You listened as her rapidly beating heart came to a slow, the rise and fall of her chest becoming an easier task to follow as she asked you to breathe with her. Soon, the lightness that you were missing, that you seemed to be begging for, rose to your chest, your breaths matching and mixing together as the fire crackled on next to you, as the moon grew evermore present in the sky.

You felt her pull away, but before you could move, her rose painted lips were pressed against your forehead. It was gentle, full of adoration, full of pride… A blush was quick to grow on your cheeks as you watched the goddess pull away to meet your gaze, the smallest of smiles coming up to curl her lips. She understood every part of you, and seeing her acknowledge something so small yet so hard for you only made love settle in your chest.

"Why don't we get to bed, hmm?" You knew it wasn't a question, especially when she saw the exhaustion in your eyes, the heaviness in your stance, especially when the release you had just overcome started to present the toll it really took on you.

She was an easy woman to follow, a better one to try to please, so when her hand glided over to the small of your back with a small push towards the bedroom, it was as though your legs moved on their own. The haze that was over you was different than the one you had felt when you left the room, and you were so grateful that she was able to help you change that with just her company alone.

Your body sunk into the mattress, the foam latching onto your limbs and pulling you into it's welcoming hold. The covers were cold as she pulled them over you, something you appreciated when your head met the pillow. Your eyes were quick to close, the weight of your lids making itself known, but you still tuned into the rustling you heard throughout the room.

Just as the small sounds became white noise to you, they stopped completely and nearly prompted you to open your eyes, but the opportunity was taken away when you felt the mattress dip on the other side of you, replacing a hope with a lovely fact. Arms, hushed and secure, were quick to wrap themselves around you after you felt her body settle. You turned in her hold, your own arms coming to rest on her waist as you buried your head in the crook of her neck, your fingers lightly tracing the expanse of her porcelain skin.

The lingering smell of her perfume filled your lungs, and the soft hum of her heartbeat was something easy for you to sink into. Her hand pushed underneath your shirt, smoothing over the skin of your back and traced mindless patterns there. With another sweet kiss to your head, her voice, low yet soft, rang out in the new lightness of the room, "Sleep well, you sweet thing.. I promise, I've got you.."

~~

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

𝐚/𝐧: CRYING SOBBING BANGING THE WALLL

I LOVE WRITING LARISSA FLUFF COME ONNN

this one was very healing for me to write. i've been feeling a lot of emotions lately as i've forced myself to work through things and being able to have something like this was really helpful.

larissa is a comfort character to a lot of us, and i am so honored that someone trusted me to write something that can be so personal sometimes. we all need a person like larissa sometimes

im so sorry ive been mia LMAO so much is going on. im officially a double major (yippie lol) and im looking for a house with some friends and its midterm season andddd i increased my hours at work aaannnnddd ya know life LOL

BUT

im glad you all are so understanding <3 it warms my heart when you all still think of me or mention me because this is a really nice part of my life that i am soooo grateful for :)

here you go anon :) sorry it took so long - thank you so much for your patience <33 i hope you liked it!

xx,

~ 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: (tagged anyone who asked/wanted to be on the "all works" taglist)

as always, feel free to ask to be added :)

@autumn-leaves-chasing-breeze @weemssapphic @readingtheentrails @finnja555 @barbarasstar @vendocrap8008 @lilfartbox1 @agathaandgwenslesbian @lvinhs @elvira-dear @kimiinou @ladybathoryy

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

[otakusparkle]

Identity V x Roll Ice Cream Factory Japan Collaboration Part 2

Menu

1. Seer's Blue Hawaii Vanilla Shiratama Roll Ice Cream

2. Embalmer's Cookie's n Cream Roll Ice Cream

3. Perfumer's Double Blueberry Roll Ice Cream

4. Geisha's Strawberry Oreo Roll Ice Cream

5. Ripper's Double Chocolate Roll Ice Cream

6. Coordinator's Mango Vanilla Roll Ice Cream

7. Wax Artist's Iced Brown Sugar Coffee

8. Magician's Iced Caramel Latte

9. Postman's Strawberry Soda

10. Painter's Mango Soda

11. Hot Drinks : Coffee, Milk Tea, Green Tea

Merchandises

- Mini Acrylic Stand

- Acrylic Keychain

- Stickers

- Can Badge

- Lunch Totebag

- A4 Clearfile

Bonus

Buy 1 collaboration menu and get 1 random postcard

For more information :

[noxturnalnymph]

Dancing is a Dangerous Game

(FrankieMorales  x  F!Stripper!Reader)

A/N & Warnings: Sexual Content below - 18+ only, Frankie doing what he do (iykyk), unspecified age gap (anywhere from 10-15 yrs), talk of stripping/dancing as a job that pays the bills. The photos on the Moodboard are just for fun, the female Reader is not specifically physically described so you can imagine her however you want. Thank you to @saradika for the divider.

Did I make this prompt up myself for me and some fellow writers? Yes. Did I set the word count limit? Also Yes. Did I stick anywhere even close to that limit? *laughs hysterically.

PROMPT: Pick a Pedge Daddy character - Joel Miller, Frankie Morales, Dave York, etc. (it can be Canon or Non-Canon/AU/No Outbreak).

PPCU Daddy is surprised - and excited - to learn that the grad/postgrad student he hires to watch his child sometimes also works as a: stripper/dancer/cam-girl/onlyfans-model/dating-or-escort-service (or straight-up SW) 

*1000 word Minimum - 2000 word Maximum

WC: 4749  (I have a problem)

Frankie’s mouth was hanging open. He knew he should close it. He knew he looked like a weirdo. He knew he was about to get a “Catfish, lookin’ like a fish” joke from his friends. But for the life of him he couldn’t take his eyes off the stage, or close his gaping jaw.

Not since his babysitter walked on stage and started taking her clothes off.

To be fair, you're not his babysitter anymore. Not since he called you three weeks ago asking if you could babysit for him tonight and you broke the news to him that you'd gotten a new job and couldn't babysit anymore. At least now he understands why you left the not-so-lucrative world of babysitting for an arguably better-paying gig. 

You've only been dancing for two minutes and he already sees more money on the stage than he would've paid you to sit his kid tonight. He’s been watching as you undulate your body across the stage, bending and dipping, stripping down to your underwear. Even though part of him thinks he should, he definitely doesn’t look away when you divest yourself of your lacy little bra.

He always thought you were hot. He was a newly-single dad, interviewing you for a semi-regular babysitting gig. He tried to focus on your resume and your qualifications. He tried to breathe through his mouth so he couldn’t smell your delicate perfume. He tried to ignore the dewy pink lipgloss you had spread across your mouth, which is in stark contrast to the bright red lipstick you are currently sporting.

He was very motivated by the fact that you, as a graduate student in your mid-20’s, seemed more responsible to leave his kid with than the other applicants to his babysitting ad, all of whom were literal teenagers. But truth be told - you were also really fucking hot. Horny dad and the hot babysitter, what a fucking cliche he was.

However, in the eleven months you babysat for him, he never acted on his inappropriate attraction to you. He never treated you as anything other than an employee. You’d show up to his house, hair in a messy bun, wearing comfy clothes, ready to sit on the living room floor all evening playing with his kid. He was polite, and respectful, and was almost positive you never caught him staring at your tits.

Your tits that he’s most definitely staring at right now. Holy shit you have great tits.

“Fuckin’ A Fish, if you’re gonna keep your mouth open, you could at least pour some beer into it.”

“Huh?” Frankie snaps his head back to the table he’s sat at, surrounded by his friends. They all chuckle. 

“We’re about to order the next round and you didn’t even drink any of that one yet,” Benny says as he points to the dripping bottle in Frankie’s hand.

Oh, sorry, Frankie mumbles as he pushes the now-warm bottle to his lips and begins to drink the beer down, his eyes moving back to the stage. The entire club is lit only by colored lights that coordinate with the twirling lights and lasers pointed at the stage, pulsating to the tempo of the music you’ve picked. Fog rolls across the floor of the stage, cascading over the edge. 

There’s a single golden pole at an outcropping of the stage that you’re now gripping with both hands, sticking your ass out towards the audience and giving it a wiggle. You let go of the pole and hook your thumbs into the waistband of your panties. You slowly begin to push them down and just as the crack of your ass comes into view Frankie momentarily forgets that he can’t swallow liquid and breathe at the same time. 

He begins to sputter and cough, choking on the bubbly liquid and spurting it across the table onto the faces of half of his friends. He’s met with groans, curses, and several swats to the back of his head as he attempts to get his wheezing under control, and the fluid out of his trachea.

Santi, who somehow managed to avoid Frankie’s beer-foam projectile, slaps a palm on Frankie’s shoulder and says,

“Guys, Frankie’s real sorry, he’s just never seen a naked woman before.”

The laughter at Frankie’s expense serves as some form of forgiveness, and everyone slowly goes back to flirting with the wandering dancers and ordering their second round. Santi keeps his hand on Frankie’s shoulder and leans into Frankie’s personal space.

“You alright?” Santi asks, squeezing his friend’s shoulder firmly.

Frankie manages to mutter a strangled yeah before several rounds of trying to clear his throat. The lights have dimmed, sinking the club temporarily into a hazy darkness. He briefly registers that the song you were dancing to has ended, so you’ve most likely left the stage.

Santi laughs, shaking his head. He moves his mouth right to Frankie’s ear, almost whispering.

“When I convinced Will to have his bachelor party at this club I thought you’d be the one making your hot babysitter choke, not the other way around,” and he claps Frankie on the back hard, “if you know what I mean.”

Frankie’s eyes go wide as he meets Santi’s crooked grin, but his friend offers nothing more as he moves to the other side of the table, turning his devilish smile on the waitress. He orders two beers and three shots for each man, dismissing the groans of protest from the table. Bachelor Down!, he shouts at Will as everyone does their shots and chases them with cheap beer.

You approach the table full of men with seven other dancers, each of you assigned by the club to give a 20-minute private dance to one of the members of the bachelor party. You’re each in various states of dress, but most are only half-dressed. You’re back in your lacy underwear set - panties and bra - but the sheer nature of the fabric leaves little to the imagination. 

Your previous job as a part-time nanny worked while you were an undergrad. When you started law school it became too much and you had to switch to more infrequent evening babysitting gigs so you had your days free for school and studying. Unable to keep up with school payments you recently had to find something new. Something that only required night and weekend availability, but paid really well.

Enter: Stripping. 

You’ve only been doing this job for a little over a month but you’d quickly gotten very comfortable with being naked in front of strangers. You had your little dance routine and could easily make flirty banter with the club’s customers. Your boss was impressed enough that he’d started assigning you party gigs with some of the other girls, like this bachelor group.

You walk up to the group of strangers, the rest of the girls fan around the table as you’re left standing just behind a broad-shouldered man with a baseball cap on, curls sticking out from under the back strap. You turn to the man with a big smile on your face.

Holy Fuck. 

Not a Stranger.

It’s Francisco Morales. The hot dad you until-recently babysat for.

He looks at you sheepishly. Your hands immediately fly to cover your breasts, suddenly mortified that your nipples are showing through your nearly-transparent choice of outfit. 

“Mr. Morales!”

“Oh I- I already,” he begins to stutter. Is he telling you that he’s already seen your tits? 

You look around at the collection of empty beer bottles and shot glasses on the table and figure that they’ve all been here for much longer than just your dance. So covering your nipples does nothing for your modesty as hot dad has probably already seen everything. You drop your arms to your side, attempting to look relaxed and casual.

“So I-uh. I guess you found a babysitter for tonight.”

He laughs. He actually laughs at your awkward attempt at diffusing the tension. Thank god. He opens his mouth to speak but before he can say anything one of his friends is speaking to the group. He explains that “everyone gets a private dance” and no one can object - and he looks right at Mr. Morales when he says this - because “it’s all been paid for already.”

Following the lead of the other girls you gently grab Mr. Morales’ hand, missing the looks back and forth between him and his friend. You do your best to confidently lead him back to the private rooms with the rest of his group. There are a dozen rooms in the hallway and eight of them have been held in reserve for this bachelor party group. Pulling him inside the last room on the right, you close the door behind you. 

The room is dim, save for the red glow of the lights. The ceiling and floor are both painted black and the three walls without the door are mirrored. Towards the left is a single high-backed black leather chair facing a brass pole that sits in the exact center of the room. On the far side of the room is a curved loveseat against the wall.

This should be easy. Not just because this is your job but because unlike any other man you’ve ever led back here, this is a man you are extremely attracted to. 

This is a man you have fantasized about.

You’ve imagined his curls between your fingers when you’ve grabbed a fistful of a customer's hair, imagined that it’s his stubble scratching between your breasts when you’ve pressed them close. You’ve envisioned his wide chest as you ran your hands down their front, his massive paws in your hands as you’ve taken their sweaty palms and placed them on your rolling hips. 

You’ve wished they were his thighs that you were grinding your ass onto and his erection that you all-too-frequently felt pressing into you. That should make this easy. But instead you’re super fucking nervous. Even more nervous than your first night here, when you dragged your panties down your legs and bent over, exposing your pussy lips to a packed room of strangers. 

What makes you most nervous is probably that the fantasies didn’t stop in the club. It would be one thing if they were just here, serving as a comfort, self-soothing by putting a familiar face in place of a groping stranger’s face. But that’s not the truth. You’ve imagined him at home too. 

In the shower, pretending your hands were his hands as you pinched and plucked at your wet nipples. Daydreaming about his weight on top of you, fucking into you, as you drove one of your toys in and out of your wet cunt. 

And if you’re being perfectly honest, you can admit that it’s been going on for almost a year, since shortly after he hired you to be his babysitter. Remembering the times you’d made yourself come on his couch, hours after his kid had fallen asleep, waiting for him to return home from a night out with his friends. Your hand stuffed down the front of your pants, petting your clit to the thought of him on his knees in front of you.

You never thought you’d actually be naked in front of your fantasy-DILF. This is like being slapped in the face with your own wet dreams. This is kind of a nightmare.

“Listen, you don’t have to-” he begins just as you start to speak as well.

“Mr. Morales I know-” and you both stop and let out breathy, nervous laughs.

“C-Can you please stop calling me Mr. Morales?”

“Oh sorry! Is that weird?”

“It sounds like the start of a bad porno,” he groans, laughing again. “Please just call me Frankie.”

“Of course, I’m so sorry Mist- Frankie. Sorry. Frankie.”

You both break out in laughter again, loudly this time, hoping to finally diffuse some of the tension. A knock sounds at the door and a deep voice - security - asks if everything is alright. You shout back that everything is fine and the room quiets down.

“I should start the music and get going,” you say quietly, motioning for him to sit on the curved red velvet seat against the far wall.

You press a button above his head and music starts up, the first of three songs forming a 10-minute loop that will repeat for this booking. You look into the mirrored wall to your left and notice how nervous you look. Then you meet his eyes in the mirror. Why does he look just as nervous?

You straddle one of his legs and shakily reach back to undo the clasp on your bra. You meet his eyes again. Fuck he can see how your hands are shaking. You look like such a fucking kid. A goddamn amateur. This is going to be the least-sexy lapdance he’s ever been given. 

You can’t stop the gasp that leaves your lips when you suddenly feel his hot hands covering yours at your back. 

“You can leave this on if you’d be more comfortable,” he says softly, barely heard over the pumping bass of the music.

“No I’m fine, I’m just…” you don’t know how to explain to him without embarrassing yourself but suddenly you’re making an admission and the word-vomit has left your mouth before you can even do anything to stop it. “I just always thought you were hot.” 

There it is. It’s out there now. 

He opens his mouth to say something and your nerves bubble up and come out as more words and why the fuck are you talking more?

“I know, I know,” you spit out before he can get a word in, “the babysitter thirsting after the hot dad, how prosaic, right? Talk about a bad porno.”

His warm hands still touching you, he slowly moves his fingers around yours, deftly undoing the clasp of your bra for you.

“It’s okay, I kinda… thought you were hot too,” his admission slips out in a whisper.

You really want to kiss him right now. But that would be a very bad idea. Security patrols the hallway and the door has a small window towards the top of it. It allows security to peek inside and see from the shoulders up. Usually if they can see your shoulders, all is good. If they can’t see your shoulders, it gives them an idea if rules are being broken or if the girls need help. 

Kissing - among other things - is against the rules.

You barely turn to look at the windowed door but you’re embarrassed to think that Frankie must know what you’re thinking because it’s like he can read your mind. Or maybe he’s just thinking about kissing you too? Either way he puts his hands back down to his sides and lets you lean into him, allowing your bra to slowly shift down your shoulders until it falls into his lap.

Your tits are right in his face. You’re half naked in front of the hot dad whose child you used to babysit. The hot dad who you’ve pictured doing this exact thing with - and more. But he’s not even looking at your tits. He’s looking you right in your eyes and making you feel more naked than you’ve ever been in your whole life.

He shouldn’t be here, not doing this, not with you. He should ask for a different girl. He should tell the security guy to kick him out. He’s making you so uncomfortable, he can tell by your twitching movements and halting breaths. He can’t stop staring at you like he’s some kind of lonely creep, what a fucking weirdo he’s being.

You position your legs on the outside of his, keeping his legs slightly open and his hands obediently face-down on the couch next to him. You’re straddling him but hovering above his lap, seemingly careful not to touch him. When you put your hands on his shoulders to brace yourself you begin to stiffly roll your body towards and then away from him.

He doesn’t know where to look. He can’t keep looking at your face, he knows the eye-contact is getting very disturbing. Why the hell did he tell you he kinda thought you were hot too? At least he didn’t admit the truth, that he thought you were fucking supernova-hot. He’s had to bite his tongue countless times to stop from asking you out.

He focuses his eyes at the hollow dip that lies at the base of your throat. It has a dance of its own, moving slightly with your pulse and rolling with your shallow breaths, the rise and fall of your chest a baseline rhythm. He tries not to think about your bare breasts just below, breasts that he’s thought about putting his hands on every single time you’ve walked into his house for the last year. 

He can see your deep red lips in his peripheral vision, and immediately the image of those lips on his skin is conjured. He pictures a chaste kiss planted on his cheek followed by a less-chaste thought of his thumb pressed into your mouth, your eyes looking up at him while your lips leave a red ring on his hand. He needs to fucking calm down. This is just a dance. You’re at work doing your literal job.

He suddenly notices you’ve almost completely stopped moving. He looks up at your face and you’re wearing a tight, pained expression. His brows furrow. Oh no. What’s wrong? Is his erection noticable? Is he creeping you out too badly? Do you want him to leave? He opens his mouth to ask if you’re okay but you silence him with a gentle squeeze to his shoulders.

“I think I’m gonna die if you don’t touch me,” you squeak out in a strained whisper.

In the back of his head a part of him thinks that he shouldn’t immediately cave. It shouldn’t be this easy. Part of him thinks he should need more than just you saying that. 

But he doesn’t. At all.

He slowly slides his body down the sofa, pushing his frame between your legs. You move your feet apart to accommodate his wide shoulders once you realize he won’t fit otherwise. He stops when his ass is sitting on the floor and his head is just above the seat of the sofa, you towering over him. He reaches down and begins to take off your platform heels one at a time. 

As your bare feet hit the floor you run your hands up your neck, over your face, and through your hair, your knees knocking at his shoulders. Touching you gently with only two fingers on each hand, he pushes on the backs of your thighs, guiding you even closer to his face. He grabs your feet and holds them in his hands, forcing your legs to fold and pushing your knees past his ears as his head rests back on the seat.

You’re kneeling at the edge of the sofa, shins on the cushion, feet dangling over his shoulders, your toes curled in his massive hands on his chest, and his head between your thighs. Your face still looks uneasy, and he can just make out whining noises over the music. High-pitched and breathy, the way a dog would beg for scraps at the dinner table.

“Don’t worry baby, I’m gonna touch you now,” he growls.

You grab the brim of his hat and twist it off his head, immediately diving your fingers into his locks. He squeezes your toes and you take his cue, lifting your hips and canting them towards his waiting mouth. Latching his mouth onto your underwear, he runs his tongue up and down your covered seam. 

He feels you begin to rock your hips into his face, rolling your body above him. Any security who looked in the window would see your shoulders moving to the beat and assume you were kneeling on the couch and giving a lap dance. He can only barely see you from his angle, sees the lace of your panties, sees your wrists grabbing at his hair.

Letting go of one of your feet, he grabs at your wrist, dragging your hand from his head to the front of your own underwear. You run your fingers down yourself, parting them around his mouth, letting his tongue tangle in them. Then you grab the edge of the gusset and pull it to the side.

Wasting no time, he immediately begins to lick at your folds, tasting the wetness that has gathered there. A lot of wetness. Christ, you’re so fucking wet. His nose touches just below your clit and a string of your arousal attaches him to you when he pulls back slightly.

A slight pause in the music has his heart stop and his stomach in his throat. After a couple seconds - that seem to stretch on forever - the first song begins playing again, restarting what must be a looped set of music. 

That must mean this private dance-time is halfway over. Ten minutes left but since you two probably started after everyone else you might not have the full ten minutes of privacy if his friends decide to burst in the door. Which, if they’re led by Santi, is a real possibility.

Less than ten minutes. No problem.

You must also feel the sense of urgency because you adjust your hand that is holding your panties to the side. You take your thumb and pointer finger and move them over yourself, parting your lips to open yourself more to him and pulling up slightly, exposing your nub. He flattens his tongue in response and drags it over your sensitive bundle, noting the way your body trembles when he does so.

He knows he doesn’t have the time to edge you as he’d like to, but he can’t help himself when he moves his head lower and twists his tongue into your hole, thrusting it into you. You are bouncing yourself slightly up and down, helping him fuck yourself on his tongue. He feels your wetness pouring over his lips and dripping down through his whiskers.

He feels your hand leave your own body and tangle back in his curls along with your other one, grabbing two fistfuls of hair tightly in your grip. Having had enough of his teasing you’re apparently deciding to take matters into your own hands.

Frankie loves eating pussy but this? This might be his favorite thing in the whole world.

He angles his head perfectly, opens his mouth, and sticks his tongue out stiffly as you begin to grind your pussy against his face. You’re using his nose, his tongue, his chin, even the bristles of his facial hair. You’re using whatever you can to get yourself off as you ride his face. It takes everything in his power not to break out in a giant smile.

He doesn��t hear you, you’re still being the quietest you’ve been since you got in this room, but he feels it. Shit, does he ever feel it. He feels your body tense, then your legs quiver, feels the pulsing in your cunt as you press yourself firm into his still-open mouth. He gently laps up your gushing orgasm as you release the grip on his hair and whimper softly above him.

Knowing you’re short on time, he has you climb off him much sooner than he’d like you to. Your heavy-lidded eyes meet his and then yours go wide. You bend down and grab his hat, plopping it back on his head and attempting to tame his just-fucked-hair back underneath it. You run to the corner of the room and grab a small robe hanging on a hook, skipping back over and roughly wiping his face off with it the way you would a toddler after a meal.

He quickly adjusts himself, tucking his protruding hardness under his belt in an attempt to conceal it as he watches you adjust your askew panties. Still topless, you throw the robe back towards the corner in a panic just as there is a quick knock at the door. Without a signal to enter the door flies open anyways, no less than three of his friends bursting through the doorway drunkenly, shots in hand for Frankie to partake in.

They make Frankie drink the shots before he even leaves the room and then they drag him away from you, hollering obnoxiously. All he can manage is an apologetic look over his shoulder as he hears the final song finally come to an end. Time’s up. Luckily you’re laughing at their antics and don’t seem to be upset. Maybe you were just flirting with him because that’s your job. Maybe you just wanted a good tip.

A tip! Shit.

Being dragged down the hallway Frankie grabs Santi by the arm and asks in his ear how much he should tip you. Santi says he usually tips $200. Frankie is shocked that a 20 minute dance would garner that big of a tip, but then again it’s been a long time since he’s been at a place like this. And to be fair, you - albeit unknowingly - let him fulfill a long-time fantasy of his.

$200 is more than he would have paid you to watch his kid tonight. No wonder you’re not his babysitter anymore. He fishes around in his wallet and takes out all the cash he has, $236. He manages to break off from the group of guys after they do another couple shots and he looks around for you. 

Unable to find you he spots one of the girls you came to the table with and she lets him know you’re on a break but she can get the tip to you. He hands her the folded bills and she thanks him by leaning in and giving him a peck on the cheek. When she pulls back from him she widens her eyes at him and flashes him a knowing smile.

“I’m sure she’s very appreciative… of the tip,” she winks.

Frankie tries not to blush and resists the urge to high-tail it to the bathroom and wash his face off, opting instead to keep the scent of you on him. He returns to the table of his too-drunk-to-notice friends and finishes out the night of revelry.

.

3:03am

Hey

Hi

3:06am

Sorry

3:09am

You’re probably asleep

3:10am

Hi

I’m just getting home actually

3:11am

Oh cool me too

Sorry to bother 

I just wanted to make sure you got your tip

I left it with your friend

3:14am

I did, yes. Thank you so much.

3:14am

Cool 👍

3:16am

Don’t take this the wrong way…

But how drunk were you tonight?

3:18am

Idk

Why?

What did I do?

I’m so sorry

3:19am

No, don’t be sorry!

I’m not trying to be rude.

I just….

Did you mean to tip me that amount?

3:25am

Oh my god

Was it not enough?

I can give you more

I’m really sorry

Do you have Venmo?

3:27am

No! OMG. It was plenty!

Literally the most I’ve ever been tipped is like 40%

You tipped me 118%

3:30am

Oh

3:31am

Yeah so I just wanted to make sure you didn’t get too drunk

And accidentally just give me everything in your wallet

3:35am

Is that what happened?

3:37am

Because I can Venmo some money back to you

It’s really not a problem

3:40am

Sorry no

I just tipped what my friend told me to

3:41am

Well I checked with the other girls….

NONE of your friends tipped that much

And they were all very generous!

3:44am

But none as generous as you

3:45am

He’s such an asshole

I’m sorry

I didn’t know

I feel like an idiot

3:46am

Again, please don’t be sorry

It was VERY generous of you

And I’m very grateful

3:50am

I was in a giving mood tonight I suppose

3:51am

Mr. Morales, is that you being flirty?

3:53am

Oh we’re back to Mr. Morales now?

3:55am

Can you get a babysitter on Wednesday night?

3:55am

I don’t have custody this week so no babysitter needed

Why?

3:56am

We should go out to dinner

3:57am

Oh we should?

3:59am

Yeah we should

Frankie

4:01am

MY treat

4:01am

LOL I should hope so!

4:02am

Pick me up at 7 😉

4:02am

I will

See you Wednesday

[jocelynscrazyideas]

Baby I’m home! | Nico Hischier x Reader

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Warnings: smut, language, not much of dirty talk (there literally is none).

Summary: Nico come back from a roadie in Minnesota, they had lost their chance to get into the playoffs. Nico gets h0rny and…

A:N- HELP I’m so tired it’s so hard to keep writing, again I don’t have faith that I’ll like this piece but I spent 2 days trying to write it so here 🫶😉🍇

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

After a roadie Nico returns home. The devs went to Minnesota and they had lost. Originally you were asked to come, actually the coaching staff were going to pay for some of the WAGs to go. Last time, the boys had gotten in a huge argument about the gameplay, and who should be on the first lineup. That’s not in their hands, it’s in the coaches and the stats of the players. Anyway, to keep them from miss behaving, the women were allowed to come.

“Baby!” Nico yells out for me in his American accent. He’s wearing his white tank top that stretch over his back and biceps, wow. He’s a smoke show.

“I wish you went! The Girls went out to the bars and the boys stayed behind and watched bar fights break out.” Nico explains. I’m actually quite nervous that he’s not showing any emotions.

Why is this loss so important? Because it was the devils last chance to win or even tie the game to get into the playoffs. Statistically in team stats overall no, they shouldn’t make it, but in number in points from each individual players had, yes they would have made it and probably win. John is an incredible defender, and so is Luke. Jack is a beautifully gifted skater and Jesper has the moves to skate within seconds across the whole rink. Ofcirese, Nico. My beautiful man. He is the most manly boy in the team, big muscles, coordination, and most importantly his social media presence. Everyone loves him.

I mean I love him.

“I know! I’m sorry.” I shout from our bedroom upstairs. Hear bags drop from downstairs and I think I hear some mumbling. I didn’t go on the roadie because I had work and I’m getting the worst headache for the last week.

“I brought up some meds. Does it still hurt?” Nico questioned and he pulls his tank top off and threw it onto our hamper that rots in our closet. Holy heaven of Abs. He’s just so fucking lovable, I don’t care about the fact he’s hot, but the way he carries himslef, he knows that no matter what he does, it’ll be intentional for him.

“Yes, thank you bubba.” I responded as I take the bottle of pills and take two pills. Yes, my head hurts so much I took two.

“Can we grab something to eat? I hungry.” Nico asked as he takes me by my hips.

He grasped onto my hips and ricks me back and forth, I can hear his stomach growl as he rests his head onto my shoulder. He shoved his head into the crook of my neck, I can feel him take my perfume from my body and pull it into his lungs. He’s smiling, I can feel his lips against my ear, and he starts to wrap his legs around my feet.

He starts to hurt me around and now I’m facing him, he’s looking straight into my eyes. He takes my hand and he places it to his chest. I can feel his heartbeat, and it’s pounding. My stomach drops as he sweeps my from my feet and onto the bed.

“Do you want food? Or we can stay in and shower, then you know do whatever.” Nico suggested, I can feel him slipping away from me. He gets up and grabs his bag.

“You better not get your gear! Its stinks!” I yell after him as nico turns to the stairs to grab his away game items.

“Baby!” Nico shouts for me. “Can you grab some milk? I wnat pasta.” Nico I a sucker for some creamy and thick pasta.

I run down the stairs and I slide into the kitchen in my socks. I have on my- well Nico’s favorite shirt on me, it’s a blue halter top that wraps around my neck with beads, it has shells laces together at the bottom almost as if it were a belly chain, and the shirt is cropped above my belly button and it’s ribbed. It’s cute, but it works better for a swimsuit cover up.

“You look sexy.” Nico slips as he eyes my shorts.

Nico,a boxers are a bit to big for me butt I slide them on anyway, and the best part is that it’s plain black, so it really does match my outfit, it’s called my “I don’t fucking care” outfit. I love the outfit, nice and short and skin tight so I can get every little breeze in, especially since it’s March and season is almost over.

“Are you gonna grab the milk? Also while you’re at it could you grab the packaged rav?” Nico requested as he slips his old man slippers on. He collects his supply’s such as a pan, the milk I gave him and the ravioli, and of course some pesto. It’s not really pasta, but he diced up some cheese, slipped some butter in the ravioli, and he stirred everything together. He lets it set as he grabs two plates. I didn’t wnat any but he knew I haven’t eaten since he left. He puts some buttered pesto cheesy ravioli on my plate and as the man he is, he cooked it so he gets more. He just flips the pan upside down and gathers all of the pasta.

He finished up with dishes since we finished the ravioli, it was delicious.

“So, you wanna shower?” Nico asked me and I can feel him getting really close to me. He picks my hands up and we start to slow dance to the sound of construction in the neighborhood.

“Yeah, well YOU need to shower more, you’re stinky.” I say in a sarcastic way. He looks me dead in the eye and he picks me up. He carry’s me up the stairs and he throws me down onto the bed.

The blunt force of getting absolutely demolished by this man felt oddly great. He pulls my hair to the side and he starts to kiss my neck. I feel his stubble graze my skin. He’s warm breath is trapped in between my jawline and his lips. He pulls away and rubs his chest, he walks out of the room.

I hear the shower turn on, he moans along the sound of water hitting the grout in the bathroom. Nico enters the room eyeing his next meal.

Me.

I took my clothes off and I lay back as if I didn’t move. Nico runs towards me and kisses my forehead all the way down to my belly button. He licks my creases. He holds my breasts as he nibbles down onto my thigh. He looks up at me grinning, and I understand what is about to happen.

~

Water is everywhere. Nico had picked me up and slid his pants off. We had been teasing eachother for about three minutes, then he got to needy. His very hard veiny cock hits his abdomen every time I kiss him, it’s like it has its on pulse.

“Never stop.” Nico says as I go down to my knees. I kiss his v-line and he holds onto my hair. He grips onto me and he pressed his back against the wall. I lick his tip, and then I start to pump. I again start to take him into my mouth, I feel like gagging, it’s so gross, I c at take the taste of cum, but for him I will. I start to moan, enjoying my time trying to please him. Nico throws his head back and starts to get loud, he bangs his hand against the opposite wall, and he’s hunched over. I have very little space to suck. The water starts to get cold so I get up from going down on him. I turn the water to a hotter temperature and I massage his biceps, he starts to get really really warm. He dick is really pushed up against himself.

Nico looks like he’s going to cum, I mean he already did in my mouth, but now he’s opening his mouth anbd says “Turn.” One work that this man says to me and I fold. Nico takes me by my waist and bends down. He’s on one knee as he grips onto me. Nico pumps himself, he’s jerking hard enough to cause me cum. He starts to kiss me down under. I look down and he’s on both knees now, making love to my pussy.

I start to move, I can’t take it anymore, I pull his hand away from my upper body and force three fingers up my hole.

“Woah, woah, you can’t get it to fast.” Nico pulls out and sucks on his finger. He gets up and he pulls me onto his chest. I feel his cock on my back. I turn on my heels and I find Nico smirking down at me. I lay down in the shower as steam fills the large room.

“Legs.” Nico says, but in his switz accent. I do as I’m told and I start to run my clit.

“You’re soaking.” Nico eyes my pussy as he pumps into me. I feel his tip, now his whole cock is inside. He’s warm, and I can feel him twitch as he try’s to say, “can I?” He’s asking for approval to start moving, and I oblige.

“Yes, and of fucking course I’m soaking.” I say as I look up towards the hot water. Nico develops red dots on his back as he starts to thrust himself into me.

“Come for me baby.”

I start to moan and I feel him practically in my lungs. He stands up as he starts to cum. Strings of our future kids are coming out of my 3rd favorite piece of him.

“Oh baby.” I look at him and his dimples are showing. I start to cum again when I see him stand up.

I push him back down as I throw myslef on top of him. I sit on him and his friend. I take a minute to catch my breath as I relax to take him. It’s been four days since we’ve had sex. I push my hand onto his chest and my other in his abs, I can feel him cum, streams of warm substance fills me, and I take myself off of him. I sit in his face and he licks me clean, but that’s before I start to cum into his mouth.

“Let’s clean up, so we can do it again later.” Nico request as I get up and I start to clean up my hair from the knots it’s been tangled into. I grab shampoo and lather it onto Nico’s head and into mine. I feel Nico wash his head as the water falls into my crevices.

We warm up and dry off and Nico swoops me up again and he snuggles me into his arms as he turns our heated blanket on. I’m stuck in his large arms and I’m glad it’s him I can feel poking up at me again.

“Baby, I’m glad you’re home.” I say as I turn my head around to kiss his cheek.

[flowerbetweenfangs]

Of A Feather

M!Harpy x F!Human

This was an entry into a little contest. I went with a harpy plague doctor as my character. Some people liked it and that was enough for me.

When the village head informed me that he could not pay me in gold or goods, I was sympathetic. A bad harvest combined with a harsh winter had left them with little to spare. What little resources they had were used up to try and keep the remaining people healthy, at my behest. 

While I had no intention of exploiting him, there was still the matter of payment.  After all, services had been performed, supplies used, risks taken, and time spent.

If he couldn’t pay me with such things, what was left? 

Favors and flesh. 

I was taken to the man’s home, where a small gathering of people awaited me. They had obviously picked from the best looking and available people in the village. Hair combed and styled, attire perfectly coordinated to match skin and eye color, and subtle perfumes that did little to mask the stench of death that still clung to the doors. 

Even in the dim light of the candles, I could tell they were dazzling. 

The life of a plague doctor was a lonely one. Constantly traveling from town to town, potential suitors being scared off by the rumors that disease still clung to me, and many that I met died within the week. An omen of Death, bringer of the Reaper, harvester of Life. Titles that did not grant me land or wealth. 

The lot in front of me showed a fear I was all too familiar with. Some cast their eyes downward, but it did little to hide it. A few dared to glare or even scowl when they thought I wasn’t looking.  

I was about to depart, not wanting to further upset those still grieving, when the door opened. 

A chill from the autumn night stirred the curtains and made the candles flicker. As shadows danced across the walls, I could hear a few muffled whimpers and whispers. 

Labored breathing followed. 

The woman at the doorway was still wearing the gowns of mourning, her hair tucked away under a scarf. Despite this, her eyes weren’t red and puffy. 

In fact, she looked almost… Relieved to see me. She clutched a lantern, but I could see it shaking in her hand. For an instant, I feared she would drop it. 

When I took a step toward her, there was a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. She stared at my gloved hand, the fingers slightly limp. 

As her lips parted, I expected a biting remark or curse thrown my way. 

Instead, she tightened her grip on the lantern and set her jaw. 

Standing up straight, she drew herself to her full height. The lantern shook in her grasp, the flame dancing and moving the shadows on the wall. While far from an intimidating stature, the boldness that rolled off her gave me pause. 

Determination now gleamed in her gaze, the lamplight making it look almost like a hunter’s glint. 

Tension rose in the room. Eyes flicked back and forth. The crowd cleared a path as she walked up to me, no hesitation in her step. 

There was no need to ask who I was. The mask and robes left little doubt. 

Without a word, she curtsied to me. She looked back at the villagers, as if daring them to try and stop her. No one said a thing. In fact, everyone seemed to be relieved at her presence. There was a glimmer of hope. 

No one would have to choose a sacrifice to give to the boogeyman. 

We left the home, the door slamming behind us. 

I led the way, and she followed me to the outskirts. Not one person stopped to thank her or bid farewell. It suddenly made sense to me. They had wanted to be rid of her, and she of them. A few faces in windows twisted and contorted with disgust. Never with sorrow. 

Like me, she was an outsider.

Once we reached the border, where the dirt road gave way to the sprawling beyond, I saw her hesitate. She stared over her shoulder, and for a moment I thought she would weep. 

Clumsily, I reached into one of the pouches on my belt and produced a handkerchief. She stared at the square of fabric, and then began to laugh. Tears still welled, but I felt better knowing they weren’t from sorrow. 

I found myself entranced with the emotion and expression. She quieted too soon, and we were once more on our way. 

We walked in silence, and I was beginning to work out the terms of a contract and the conditions of my new companion’s stay. 

She continued to look out of the corner of her eye at me, smirking when our gazes met. I didn’t pry into the details of her life, nor did she mine. Perhaps it would come in time, when she became accustomed to her new position. 

When we arrived at my home, I allowed her inside and set up her accommodations. She explored the rooms and seemed satisfied. Rather than shrink away or cry out at the sight of my more macabre collections, she seemed intrigued. 

It was far from luxurious, but she would be comfortable until we found a more long term solution. I also supplied her with books so we could begin her training proper. She took them, but seemed confused, raising a quizzical brow. 

“We will start your studies tomorrow. By the end of the week, you should know what to expect moving forward.” 

I bid her goodnight then went to my own room to draw up the contract of her stay. 

An assistant would help relieve the burden of a few jobs, but I couldn’t afford to keep one for very long. My focus was purely on this new endeavor that I never removed my clothing to prepare for slumber. 

I was perched at my desk, having scribbled out dozens of lines on my papers when I heard the bedroom door open. Living alone, I had never gotten into the habit of locking it. 

She came into the room, wearing only her shift. It was threadbare, leaving little to the imagination. Her eyes flicked around the room, perplexed at my lack of a bed. The confusion didn’t last long and she approached the desk, standing behind the chair. 

While both of us were about the same height standing, she nearly towered over me. 

I turned to face her, and she leaned forward, putting her hands on the desk behind me. The bare flesh of her arms barely brushed against my robes. Even through the thick material I could feel their warmth. Breath fogged up the lenses of my mask, obscuring my vision. 

It was then I realized while I had expected a repayment in the form of a favor, she had chosen flesh. Perhaps she assumed that doing so would end her stay with me sooner and she could flee back to her village, or wherever she decided, after. 

Slowly, I lifted up my glove and pressed the back of it to her lips as I waited for the fog on my mask to dissipate. 

Her eyes became lidded as I felt the pressure of her lips against the leather. With an intentionally gradual pace, she brought them further down, where the glove went under my sleeve. 

She seemed perplexed at the material going so far up, but I could still feel her warm breath rolling down my arm. I was statue still as it flowed to my chest and heart. 

Blood sang in my veins as desire long buried began to claw its way from the grave. 

I retracted my hand from her. Her fingers twitched, curling on empty air. Slowly, she stepped away, eyes averting apologetically. Lips moved, tongue flitting nervously as she prepared to speak. 

Instead, I put my gloves on either side of my mask. 

Without waiting for a request for assistance, she slipped it off. 

I expected her to recoil in horror, or to flinch. But she only stared, eyes hungrily taking in the details of my face. While I was certainly far from a beauty, she clearly expected something more grotesque or marred. Her gaze seemed to focus on my hair, the long plumes that caught the light in a strange way, the way it frayed out.  

I stood up, expecting her to take a step back. Instead, she was resolute, not moving from her spot in front of me. 

My gloves found her hand. I could feel it shaking. She laced her fingers with mine, breath still tickling my lips. 

Gingerly, she set the mask down with her free hand. Dexterous fingers worked open my robes, running softly over the pebbled skin. Inhaling sharply, I flinched away reflexively as the shed material fell to the floor, leaving me in only my breeches and boots. 

While I possessed the same flesh as her on my head and torso, black feathers began to dot and eventually cover my arms, giving way to wings stuffed inside gloves. They too fell to the floor, no longer being held in place by sleeves.

I could see her eyes going lower, wondering what lay beyond the clothing. Ironically, the one part of my outer clothing that resembled a bird masked my human features. 

Then, she finally hesitated. Blinking, she traced over my shoulders and ran fingers down my bicep, stopping where flesh ended. The slightest edge of her nails made my feathers ruffle. A few formed a black ring around my boots. 

I could see the worry in her eyes. An unspoken question. 

What are you?

I made no move to pull her closer. Nor did I push her away. Neither of us spoke, not wanting to frighten the other. 

When she stepped back, I could feel a pang in my heart. The small space now between us cut through me like an icy blade. 

She grabbed her shift’s hem. Pulling it over her head, she let it join my feather’s on the floor. Despite all the heat coming from her touch, nipples were erect, skin covered in gooseflesh. I found myself closing the gap, letting our bodies share the warmth between them.  

Soft lips pressed against mine, arms encircling my waist. Legs wrapped around, bare flesh of thighs and calves rubbing against breeches and boots. My touch feather light, I followed every curve and crevice of her skin, unable to fully embrace and grasp her like she did to me. 

As I traveled downward, I could feel her breath catch against my neck, fingers digging into my back. I lacked the dexterity she did, but I could feel the trickling folds between her legs. Since I didn’t possess fingers, I moved my human mouth down and parted her thighs. 

The clothing we’d shed formed a slight cushion as she sat, hands tangled in my hair. I could feel her fingers exploring as my tongue plunged in and out of her. Each quiver and shake brushed against my feathers, the sensation only seeming to add to her enjoyment. 

Ankles locked between my shoulders, pulling me more into her. I increased my efforts, hooking her legs in the crook of my elbow. The gasps and moans became cries and screams of ecstasy, begging for more. 

The fingers in my hair formed a fist. My lips pressed to hers, groans and growls escaping me in a carnal language we both knew all too well, my tongue exploring as hers called out for more. 

When she finally loosened her grip, I shifted. Breeches brushed against her soaking folds, betraying the hardness within. Shaking legs spread wider. In the moonlight, I could see her shimmering wetness. Shallow breaths betrayed her ache. The need to be filled.

With some difficulty, I molted the last bit of my clothing. My boots clomped noisily on the floor. My breeches had barely slipped down my thighs when she managed to get up, her whole body shaking with the effort.

Once more, she leaned over, hands resting on the ground behind me. Straddling me, she lowered herself down. 

The warm and wet gripped me tightly, and I could see her spread across the girth, before vanishing behind my feathers. She tossed back her head at that, breath catching as she took a moment to recover, before starting again. I met her with each movement, once more devolving into the ancient language. 

However, she seemed to have had enough of it, and her lips covered mine. Her tongue explored, no doubt tasting herself. This only seemed to invigorate her further, moans and whimpers rumbling through the both of us. Even muffled, the sounds rattled me to my core. 

I wrapped my wings around her, not wanting a feather’s width of space between us. I wanted this to last. But I was dancing so close to the edge already. 

My taloned feet traced over her calves. The sharp tips must have lightly scratched her, because she stared at me, finally parting our kiss. Trembling legs gave out then, and she collapsed on top of me, labored breaths telling me she was at the brink herself. 

Despite the hesitation, she gave me a nod to continue. 

They gripped her ankles tightly, locking her in place. Taking her under my wings, I let her rest against me as I rolled my hips. Each thrust was punctuated with a sigh or a moan. The slow pace drew out each motion. 

Soon, I could feel her trying to wriggle down onto me, begging me to fill her faster. A few times I gave in, remaining inside her, only to draw back out again. She would bite her lips, scratching at the floor. The request was loud, despite a word not being spoken. 

Each breath and sigh further fanned the heat inside me. My motions were rough and out of practice, but she craved it all the same. 

Finally, I hilted and held her fast, feeling the flame of passion sputter out. She twitched around me, soft sighs telling me she could feel each drop inside her. It spilled out onto my stomach and hips, my grip finally loosening. 

We stayed entangled, clothes and feathers scattered around us. I managed to get my robes and drape them over her. The shivering eventually ceased, and she laid against my chest, hand resting on my shoulder. Slowly, her eyes closed and I could feel the soft breathing of slumber. 

The lenses of my mask gleamed in the candlelight, watching over the two of us.  

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Photo Finish

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Description: I don't really have words for this. @desert-fern and I were chatting about Hangman thots. And this spilled out of my brain.

Warnings: This is just porn. Porn with Plot. Consume at your own risk.

Word Count: 6484

A/N: This is dedicated to @desert-fern, @dakotakazansky and @horseshoegirl! Read and enjoy the thots my darlings!

AO3: Cross-posted Here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted Here!

It is an unforgiving job, working as a photographer. You'd been all over the world taking pictures for exposes, portraits of world leaders, and scenery. You could name a print material with a portrait on the cover and say you'd taken a picture of that kind. 

It's your first time in New York after six months of working on assignment after assignment for your agency when you're called into your boss’s office and ordered to get a studio ready. You're expecting a shot with supermodels or perfumes. Hell, you've even taken photos of cans of dog food. You're not expecting to hear that the client is the U.S. Navy. Not at all.

The U.S. Navy's recruitment numbers have fallen to an all-time low. They're looking for a propaganda vehicle or five to kickstart recruitment. They've ordered a squadron of pilots to fly to New York and have professional portraits taken. It had been decided it was too risky to have civilian photographers on base, so your company had rented a colossal hangar from the airport for one day. The squadron and their jets would land tonight, and the shoot would happen tomorrow. The information has you reeling and more than a little flustered. The U.S. Navy? As a client? That’s huge. This assignment could make or break your whole career. How do you even start? This shoot is on an awfully quick turnaround for something so big.

Your mind is spinning, thinking of how you could make these spreads work. To begin your prep work, you go to your office, collecting your assistant, stylists, makeup artist, and lighting coordinators. Once everyone is clustered around your office, you fire up your computer and display pictures of each aviator. The Navy has selected six aviators for this spread; they’re all gorgeous. And per the sanitized dossiers you hand out to your team to read, each has risked their lives to serve their country. Of the five men on the dossiers, one keeps catching your attention. His name is Jake, Jake Seresin, and his eyes pierce into you even through the low-quality picture you’ve been given.

“Alright. So how do we do this? The Navy asked for shots of each aviator and their plane in flight suits and uniforms. We’ll have all four jets in the hangar with us tomorrow. Additionally, I want to explore who they are as people. So I think we’ll also do shots of them in formal wear. As a last step, we’ll tie into their sex appeal and do shots of the boys in their flight jackets and dog tags with no shirts. For Lieutenant Trace, I thought we could explore the duality she naturally poses as a highly decorated female Naval Aviator. How does that sound? Any ideas for how we can accomplish that? Start pulling pieces on racks in the bullpen. I want to do a final review of all of the options at 4 o’clock.”

Your stylists, Adam and Lea, are already huddled up and discussing pieces to pull for the formal wear shoot. You can see an unholy gleam in Lea’s eyes as she finds pieces for Lieutenant Trace to wear for the sex appeal shot on her tablet. You grin at their enthusiasm before turning to your lighting techs.

“Seb, Kris. I want you both to head out to the hangar today. I don’t know what the lighting is going to look like. Feel free to start setting up the lighting for the shoot tomorrow. But don’t lock anything down. We’re going to have to share our space with the planes.”

You turn to your assistant, Amy. 

“Ames, go with them. Get an idea of the space we have to deal with. Measurements would be useful. Start visualizing areas where we could lay out a backdrop to do a set of pics without the planes in the background. Scope out everything — the facilities, where we could set up changing booths, a refreshments table, etc. We’ll also probably need to coordinate deliveries from the usual food platters and drinks places. Get an assortment of things that would apply to any dietary restrictions you can think of.”

With that, you turn to the last member of your team, your makeup artist. 

“Hey, Katie. We will want to keep the makeup for this shoot subtle and touch up any blemishes and under-eye circles. That should be it for the boys, but we’ll want to do something eye-catching for the formal wear portion for Lieutenant Trace. So pack accordingly. Go ahead if you want, and head to the hangar with Ames so you can coordinate placement for the makeup station.”

You call your team to attention by ringing the small gong on your desk.

“We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us today. Call me for anything you need. This shoot is important for the studio, and we will have many eyes on us. Here are the credentials for the hangar. Measurements for the aviators are included in the dossier packets. For the formal wear portion of the shoot, pick coordinating colors except for Lieutenant Trace. Good luck!”

The rest of your morning is spent coordinating with the Navy Liasion. During your lunch break, you head to the hangar and help your team as they work there. You pick up sandwiches and drinks for everyone and drop some off for Adam and Lea. You reach the hangar at 1:30 and use your credentials to let yourself in. Unsurprisingly, the hangar is a hive of activity. Amy’s marking down placement points near the bathrooms with a measuring tape, and Katie’s getting a vanity plugged in and organizing her equipment.

Meanwhile, Seb and Kris are testing the lighting. A large swath of the Hangar floor is as yet empty. A clear path has been left from the hangar doors to the open area. The open area is where four F/A-18A Super Hornets are going to sit. You call your team to grab their lunches and catch up with Amy on her progress. It’s your first time delegating so much of the admin work to Amy since she’s the newest on the team, and you’re ecstatic with her progress.

She’s gotten everything organized, including the food and beverage deliveries. When a pair of workmen back in a truck containing the backdrop and the changing rooms, you supervise as they build them and place them where you want them. They’ve just started assembling the backdrop when your phone rings. You step into the afternoon sunshine to take the call. It’s the Navy Liasion. He’s calling to inform you that the squadron will be landing shortly. Sure enough, you can just hear the engines as you hang up and bolt indoors. Amy’s just sending the workmen on their way as you help your team clear the open areas of the hangar and stand near the open hangar door. 

You can feel the thrum of the engines as Four F/A-18As fly in formation and finally land in all their glory. They’re beautiful machines. You can smell the stink of the jet fuel and feel the heat from the engines as they roll into the hangar. The next moments are full of frantic activity as the flight crews help ensure the jets are safely landed. Once all the furor has died down, you finally reach where the aviators have descended from their jets. They’re examining your team's work with eagle eyes that dart to your person as you step closer, your heels echoing as you make your way to the jets. 

They’re even more gorgeous than their pictures indicated, even sweaty with helmet hair as they are. As one, they line up in front of you and salute, introducing themselves with their rank, full name, and callsign. You can hear Amy and Katie’s giggles from behind you as you introduce yourself and your team. The entire time you lay out the plan for the following day, you can feel a set of eyes boring into the side of your face. All the aviators are staring right at you, but Lieutenant Seresin makes you feel like squirming. His green eyes stay on you as you show them the different areas in the hangar and explain the order of the day. Thankfully, they leave the hangar shortly after you tell them their call time for the next morning. 

A couple of hours later, everything is ready to go, thanks to Amy, Seb, Kris, and Katie. The corner near the bathroom has two changing rooms set up. Nearby are spaces for the racks of clothing and the makeup station. It will be perfect for the photoshoot you have in mind. The concrete floors are a little chilly, so you text Lea and ask her to add some of the rugs from storage to the truck. You send her a snap of the current layout so she and Adam know what they’re walking into the following morning. You know she and Adam will pick something that complements the gunmetal gray of the planes and the clothing they’re selecting. Before long, you and your team are packed into the back of two Ubers and heading back to the studio for the final part of your day, evaluating the clothing Adam and Lea have picked.

You’re satisfied as you head home that night. Your team has done an amazing job, and the only thing you have to do is pack your cameras and lenses. You carefully wipe and pack each lens and each camera, working as quickly as possible since you have to be at the hangar with an early 6 AM call time. Amy’s picking up the coffee and breakfast deliveries at 7, and the Squadron will show up at 8 AM sharp.

When your alarm goes off at half past four the next morning, you feel barely rested. Your hair is a bird’s nest atop your head, and your eye bags could put a raccoon to shame.  But you’ve got a busy day ahead of you, so you gulp a scalding cup of coffee and walk zombie-like into your shower. Forty-five minutes later, you’re dressed in a smart blouse and pencil skirt with heels on your feet and bleary but ready to face the day. You’ve thrown your hair into a French braid snaking down your back and left your makeup and jewelry simple to avoid causing unforeseen sparkles and shadows when Kris and Seb turn the lights on.

Your team has just reached the hangar when you step in. All the lights are on in the early morning haze, and you’re immediately swept up in the preparations. It’s like you’re needed everywhere. You only get fifteen minutes to lay out your camera equipment and hook up the cameras to your laptop before you’re pulled into last-minute adjustment after last-minute adjustment. It feels like barely any time has passed when the aviators swagger through the open hangar door. They’re dressed in khaki uniforms, each holding a hanger with a leather flight jacket.

Adam and Lea direct them to leave their garment bags on an open rack, and you’re off to the races. You start with individual shots of each aviator with their plane and then against the backdrop. You’ve cued up a playlist of Top-40 hits, and you can’t help humming along as you snap away. As expected, it takes a bit for the aviators to warm up to being photographed. Two, Lieutenants Bradshaw and Seresin, take to posing for the camera like a fish out of water. Lieutenant Fitch follows shortly after them. Then all you needed to get Fanboy to cut loose was get him talking about his favorite tv show. You don’t mind the onslaught of Star Trek facts and figures because Lieutenant Mickey Garcia is adorable once you get him smiling and dancing to the songs playing. 

That leaves you with Lieutenants Trace and Floyd. Lieutenant Floyd goes next, and the first thing he does when he sees you holding the camera is blush. The bashful look on his face makes a soft squeal slip out of Amy’s mouth, and you side-eye your assistant with your fiercest glare to get her to chill out. Thankfully, Lea drags her away to help with some of the clothing. There’s no need to make the sweetheart even more uncomfortable. Much like Lieutenant Garcia, you try to get him talking. And it works, at least until Lieutenant Seresin opens his mouth and says,

“C’mon, Baby On Board. A pretty girl’s taking your picture, and you can’t even smile? This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience, at least for you. You should enjoy it while it lasts.”

You can feel your blood pressure rising at how rude he is and are about to open your mouth to tell him to get out of your field of vision when Lieutenant Floyd does it himself.

“Why, Bagman? Are you afraid that if I start posing for real, all the girls will dump you as fast as possible for me instead?”

You have to stifle your giggles as Lieutenant Seresin blinks wide-eyed at Lieutenant Floyd before walking away. 

“That’s a great idea, Bob!” Lieutenant Trace is never one to leave an opportunity to cheer on her WSO.

That’s what breaks the ice between you and Lieutenant Floyd. You feel his solo plane shots have turned out better than the others. The final aviator in uniform to photograph is Lieutenant Trace. But no matter what you do, you can’t get her to loosen up. 

“Alright, everyone. Let’s take fifteen. Adam and Lea, can you get the Lieutenants in their formal wear while I finish up with Lieutenant Trace?” 

That clears the gentlemen away and leaves you and Lieutenant Trace by the planes. That’s when you finally see a fraction of the tension she holds in her shoulders drain away. She’s still standing stiffly but no longer in full parade rest. You turn the music up, put on ABBA, and pray that the music finally gets her to unwind. It takes a bit, and Lieutenant Bradshaw, now wearing a navy blue tuxedo, wiggling his hips to the beat but unwind she does. He gives you a wink before shimmying away. You can see the rest of your team laughing as the aviators pull out their silliest dance moves. 

After finishing up Lieutenant Trace’s final uniform pictures, you leave her in Lea and Katie’s capable hands and start taking the solo shots of the men. They’re all dressed in navy blue tuxedos with white shirts and shiny black dress shoes. There isn’t a tie in sight, and the jackets are perfectly tailored to their figures. You can’t help the impressed looks you give them and mentally note to compliment Lea and Adam later. Everything is going well until you start to see slack-jawed looks where the lieutenants had been smoldering into the camera. You turn and grin satisfactorily as Lieutenant Trace steps forward. Lea had selected a gorgeous crimson and burgundy gown, and Katie had chosen to leave her hair in loose curls. You’re not surprised at the boys’ awe. She looks breathtaking and like her callsign in all its fiery glory. The contrasting color combinations as she joins the boys look fantastic in the pictures. 

The final set of pictures happens after a lunch break. The gentlemen are only too eager to slip off their shirts, though you can hear Bob pleading with Lea to spare him. You wish him luck, as you know from experience that Lea’s not one to give in easily. The only other aviator who looks discomfited is Lieutenant Trace. You pull her aside.

"Lt. Trace. How would you feel about doing a shot wearing just one of the men's jackets, some heels, and jewelry? You don’t have to wear one that one of the guys has worn today. Lea and Adam brought plenty of spares."

"Please, call me Natasha. And no. I'm not doing that."

"Natasha, I have a feeling I know why, but would you tell me?" Her shoulders surround her ears as you try to reason with her.

"I'm not going to wear that just to act as the sole piece of eye candy in this group. I got here by working just as hard, if not harder, than all of them. I won't negate all my hard work with a pin-up pose on Navy propaganda."

"Thank you for telling me that. I'm not going to pressure you into doing this. But, I would like to bring one item to your consideration. You think taking a picture like this will negate your hard work. Doesn't that negate your inherent sense of femininity? You're a fighter pilot. Yes. One of the best of the best. But you're also a woman. And to me, that's one of your biggest strengths. Girls walking into Navy recruitment offices deserve to know they can be kick-ass officers and beautiful too.”

You take a breath, cataloging the emotions flitting across her face.

“I'm not asking you to do this shot because you're beautiful. As we both know, you are. I'm asking you to do this shot to show the world that you can be one of the best and still be feminine. Be strong and delicate. Sweet and savage. I want you to show the world that serving your country doesn't mean you have to only act like men. Women can serve and do everything that a man can without compromising anything. Be it their looks, their career, or their femininity."

Your words have resonated with her. You can see the figurative light bulb go off in her head as she resolutely nods, gathers up the skirts of her gown, and walks right towards Lea like a woman possessed. You grin and proceed with taking shots of the others. But this time, it’s Lieutenant Seresin that you’re having problems with. He’s stiff like his charm has melted away. You switch to the others and finish their shots easily. Even Natasha stuns in just the oversized blazer. You take a break and review the pictures on your laptop. They’re all perfect. You’ll need a day or so to clean up any small defects, but other than that, they’re exactly what you were looking for. The Navy will be pleased with the results, you hope.

You just need this one set of pictures from Lieutenant Jake Seresin, callsign Hangman, and you can finally go home and take off your heels and bra. Your irritation grows as you attempt to take the pictures you need five times. Your groan of exhaustion and irritation is far longer and louder than it should be. That’s when you start dismissing your team and the Daggers.

“Head on out, all of you. We have to clean up the hangar by the day after tomorrow when the Daggers leave. I will finish up these photos with Lieutenant Seresin, and we should be following you shortly.”

The Daggers all scramble to change, and it's less than half an hour later when you say farewell as the Daggers and your team file out the Hangar door and close it behind them. That’s when you’re left alone with the one man who’s been driving you crazy all day. You try, futilely, to get him to pose how you want, but no matter what you say and how you move him, the pictures don't turn out like you want them to. 

Partway through the latter half of the photo shoot, you'd switched to having all of the Daggers standing against the backdrop. You're regretting that decision now. 

You're done, and the blonde idiot is just standing there and smirking at you. In the studio light, you can see every ridge of his abs and the downy hair dotting his torso. You kick your heels off and let your hair out of its braid. After so long in the tight braid, it feels great to let your scalp relax.

You stalk up to Lieutenant Seresin and grab hold of his arm.

"Right. Let's make this easy on both of us. I will position you how I want you, and you won't move. Okay?"

"Darlin', just tell me to jump, and I'll ask you how high."

And now he's trying to flirt with you. Great. You roll your eyes and position his head and arms as you want him. This close, you can smell his cologne, the cedar and plum scent wafting from his skin. It's an expensive scent that is ever so inconsistent with his personality. Thankfully he doesn't fight you as you position him. 

You could cry. You're so relieved. You are finally getting the needed pictures, and Lieutenant Seresin is cooperating. His eyes still track you as you stalk barefoot back and forth from the laptop to the lights, all with your camera in tow as you make small adjustments. But you don't feel their weight as self-consciously anymore. 

In the final pose, you press on his stomach to get him to straighten his back, and your entire world seems to freeze. His abs are taut, the light dusting of hair soft against your fingers as you glance up at his face. His lips are bitten red as his eyes peer into you. It's electric being this close to him. Something is yearning in his eyes when you step away and take the final pictures. 

Your face is hot as you walk back to the table with your laptop and examine the pictures. You're exhausted, but you've finally done it. Of all the pictures, Lieutenant Seresin's looks the best. His photos exhibit strength, passion, and raw sexuality, exposing a stripe of his taut torso and dog tags. 

"Damn, darlin'. I knew you were a good photographer when I looked up your work before we flew to New York for this, but I had no idea how good you were. These pictures. They're something else."

You startle at his voice, emanating from near your ear, and jolt out of your seat. You nearly fall, but he catches you, steadying you with an arm wrapped around your waist. You gulp as you’re pressed against his chest. He's so close that you can count the flecks of gold swimming in his green eyes. You can't keep your gaze from trailing over his face, from his eyes down to his lips, and back up again. 

"Sweetheart, tell me if I'm reading you wrong, but it looks like you want to kiss me. And I know I want to kiss you. I have since I saw you for the first time yesterday."

You can't keep yourself from nodding at his words. But he's watching you like a hawk and catches your movements. So it's hardly a surprise when he trails his other hand up your side and pinches your chin before slanting his mouth over yours. 

He kisses as he flies, you think. Precise and pointed, each brush of his tongue against your calculated to make your cunt clench and throb with need. You're wet, embarrassingly so. He doesn't pull away until your lips are swollen from the rough kiss. 

Your chest heaves as he traces his finger across your lips. He's got a smug smirk on his face. You pull away from him, carefully selecting your video camera from all your camera equipment, and return to his plane. You turn on the lights, dimming them until there is just enough light to throw the area in the jet's shadow in relief in your camera, hit record, and beckon him to come to you.

"Lieutenant, it's been a bit since I've had some fun. What would you say if I suggest we make a movie?"

His grin is salacious as he lets the leather jacket fall to the ground and tugs you back into his arms.

"Baby, it'd be my pleasure."

Your answering laugh transforms into a moan as he kisses roughly down your throat, paying special attention to your pulse point. His talented hands trail up and down your waist, nimble hands rucking your blouse up from your skirt until he can finally touch your bare skin. Your moans as he traces patterns across your ribs are muffled in his kiss.

"Jake."

Your voice is breathy and high as you try to get his mouth back on yours. But when you look at his face, something is commanding in his gaze.

"Take your shirt off, baby. Let me see what you're wearing."

You tug your shirt off, thankful there aren't any buttons or ties to impede your progress. Jake’s groan at the sight of the lace covering your breasts sends goose bumps over your skin.

His voice is reverent as he walks around you.

"God, baby. You killed me this morning. Wearing that pretty little skirt and those high heels. I wanted to bend you over and fuck you until you were leaking my cum."

He stops before you, pressing his thumb between your parted lips. He dips it in until it's wet with your pooling saliva and drags it down your throat. His finger drags over the soft flesh of your breasts, leaving a cool, damp trail as he pays special attention to the peaks of your nipples. 

He continues walking, stopping at your back and dragging you in until your back is flush against his chest. He positions you with both hands until you're centered with the camera. He keeps up a filthy litany of praise as he carefully uses his thumbs to drag your bra cups down, sending your tits spilling free. His hands immediately find their way to fondle and caress them, calloused fingers kneading and squeezing until your hips are canting unconsciously, searching for additional stimulation. 

His smile is filthy when he finally pulls you away, intertwining your fingers with his and leading you to his plane.

"Put your hands on my plane, baby. And whatever you do, don't take them off."

You can't resist your soft moan as you do exactly what he says after unfastening your bra. You can't see his face, but you can feel his lips in the hollow behind your ear as he grinds his stiff cock against your ass. 

"Stay there, baby. Gonna take these trousers off so you don't get in trouble if we make a mess."

Your nipples are pebbled in the cool air as you wait for Jake to return to you. You can hear the clink of the belt buckle and the rustle of fabric as he drags the garment off before padding back to you. His hands trail teasingly over your sensitive skin as he brackets your waist. His thumbs rub soothingly at your waist as he peppers kisses across your bare shoulders. Jake then carefully drags the zip at the back of your skirt down and eases it off your hips.

It pools to the ground at your feet, and you shudder at the feeling of his hand on your ass as he collects it and sets it on a chair in your line of sight. He's gorgeous. You can see every line of his muscles and the bulge of his erect cock in his boxers. The only thing you're wearing now is your thong. He slides the flimsy lace off, and that's when you feel his breath across your hole.

"Oh, baby. You're so wet. Wet for your Lieutenant, huh?"

He blows a stream of air over you, and you can feel your hole clench at the sensations. 

"What do you want me to do to you, baby? How do you want to cum? On my tongue? On my fingers? On my cock? You gotta tell me, sweetheart."

Your voice is breathy as you babble, "All of them, Jake! I want your tongue, your fingers, and your cock. It's been so long since I came. Please!"

He kisses your shoulder before kneeling and burying his tongue between your thighs. Each brush has you practically sobbing with pleasure. It's been so long since you came that it's only a few minutes before his tongue brings you to the brink of your orgasm. You're already chanting his name, your moans echoing through the hangar.

"Cum," he growls, his mouth still sealed to your cunt, and you're only too happy to comply, your hands scrabbling for something to squeeze on as you ride out the waves of your orgasm on his tongue.

He pulls away after a few minutes and turns you around. His mouth is on you instantly, nipping at your breasts before he kisses you hard. You can feel how hard he is against your thigh as you sink to your knees and free him from the constricting fabric.

It's only fair that you return the favor. So you start with kitten licks flicking across the head of his cock. Each tender pass of your tongue has him moaning. It's not long before his hands find their way into your hair, holding the loose strands in a ponytail at the back of your head. You use the extra leverage to begin deep-throating him in earnest. You use as much suction and saliva as possible, moaning wantonly as he fucks your mouth. His pants and grunts send heat pooling into your cunt as he approaches his orgasm. But before you can convince him to come on your tongue, he jerks himself off over your tits, spurting his release over your skin in hot thick ribbons.

There is a feral look in his eyes at the sight of you like that on your knees, and Jake lopes over to your cameras, carefully grabbing one. He drapes his dog tags around your neck and carefully snaps pictures of the pearl necklace he'd given you. He lays the camera onto the chair before coming back to you.

"Do you still want me to fuck you?"

"Yes." Your consent is less words and more a cock-drunk mewl, but Jake interprets it correctly.

"Can you get on all fours for me?"

You're only too eager to comply, positioning yourself under his eager hands as he takes his spot against your ass.

"I don't have any condoms, baby. How do you want to do this?"

"I'm on the pill, Jake. Please, fuck me. Fuck me raw."

He groans before pressing himself inside you. The slow drag of his big cock as it presses into you has your pulse racing. Jake keeps the pace purposefully slow, using his hands at your hips to hold you still as he deliberately fucks into you. It's so good that each press has you screaming, and you've long since reached the cliff of your orgasm. But what Jake's giving you just isn't enough. That's when you start wiggling your hips to meet his thrusts.

The first heavy smack of his palm against your ass has you freezing completely, caught in the pain-pleasure-pain sensation his hand is wringing out of you. The second has you moaning, your pussy fluttering around his length. His groan is near musical as he continues to smack your ass. Each smack brings you closer to your orgasm, and you're practically begging for it now. You wail when he begins to fuck you again in earnest. His balls smack against the hot skin of your ass as you finally let yourself cum. 

Your orgasm is so strong and intense that you black out. When you come to, you're cradled against Jake's chest, his hand tracing lazily over your back. You're both still under his jet. You prop yourself up on his chest with shaking arms and groan at the sensation of cum dripping out of you. It’s several long moments before you rise carefully on wobbly legs. But the sight you see when standing has your cunt clenching in need again. Jake’s torso is now covered in droplets of the mixture of both of your cum. You grab your camera and take a picture of that too.

Jake grins as he collects the bundle of your clothes and follows behind you to the bathroom. You can’t help the gasp leaving your lips as you see yourself in the mirror. He’s marked up your decolletage, and now is when you can feel the painful sting in your ass. 

“God, baby. Let me take a picture of your ass? It looks beautiful. You can see my whole hand on it.”

You groan as he presses a kiss against the sore cheek before positioning you and taking the pic. All you can see is the globe of your ass, the handprint, and the cascade of your hair down your back.

“Are you sure you didn’t pick the wrong calling, Jake?  You could’ve been a fantastic photographer if you’d chosen to.”

“Oh, I’m sure, darlin’. I love flying too much to regret my decision. And flying brought me to you.”

You grin before beginning to clean yourself up. Jake can’t resist kissing you, and you can’t resist kissing him back, either. Before long, you’re all clean and dressed in your underwear, blouse, and skirt again. Jake even has your shoes and chivalrously kneels to slide them onto your feet. He’s back in his trousers, this time sans the leather jacket. You can’t resist trailing your fingers across his skin and wrapping your arms around his neck as you kiss him. But you have to break away from him. You only add to his current look by slinging his dog tags around his neck.

Back in the hangar, you’re packing up your cameras after ensuring your home movie is saved when the door to the hangar opens. It’s a security guard, and you’re glad he didn’t pop in earlier.

“Hello, miss. I just wanted to check in and make sure everything is alright.”

“Yes, everything is fine, officer. I just finished a photo shoot with my last client, and we’ll leave shortly.”

"Alright, miss. We have to restrict access to the hangar at 11 pm. It's about 9:30 now, so finish up and head on your way."

You can hear Jake opening the curtain to the changing room behind you and can see the Officer's position stiffen as he catches sight of the medals on his breast.

"Sir, apologies, I wasn't aware that the client she mentioned was military."

He's falling over himself, and you can see the smug smirk on Jake's face as he grins and walks the officer out. You can't help grinning as you finish packing your lenses and begin unplugging your laptop after saving all the footage you’d captured today. You know Jake is back when you feel an arm wrap around your waist. You lean easily back into his expensive-smelling embrace and can't resist sagging against him for a few moments.

"It's been a long day, huh, darlin'?" He presses a kiss against your jaw. "Let's get you packed up and home."

You smile at the new, softer side of him and kiss his jaw.

"I'm all packed up. Walk me to my car?"

"'Course, sugar. Give me your camera bag. D'you need to check on anything else before we head out?"

You pad over to all the electrical outlets, hitting the switches on power strips to ensure nothing is still on. The final place you check via phone flashlight is the area under Jake's jet. You're wearing all of your clothing. You just want to make sure you haven't made a mess with your extracurricular activities.

"I cleaned it all up already, baby. It was when you were knocked out after your orgasm." 

You startle, having grown used to his presence over the past few hours.

"Then let's head out?" 

You relinquish your camera bag to him, keeping your oversized tote on your shoulder as the two of you stride out of the hangar. You lead him to the small parking lot to the side and pop the trunk for your car, thankful you'd decided to drive to the airfield. 

"Let me give you a ride to your hotel. It's the least I can do after keeping you so late."

"Darlin', I should be thanking you. I haven't cum like that in a long time."

You've seen the man completely naked and writhed in pleasure at his touch. You shouldn't be so flustered in his presence. But you can't explain the catch in your breath as he opens the driver's side door for you before loping around to the passenger side and settling in. Everything between you and Jake doesn't feel like the aftermath of a hot frantic sexual encounter. It feels like a date.  You feel light and easy as you cruise back into the city. The silence between the two of you is comfortable. It’s not long before you drop him off in front of his hotel. He presses a kiss against your lips before swaggering in. And you head home to your small New York apartment, feeling the ghost of his presence as you go.

The next morning, you’re glad you chose to work from home because the first pictures you edit are the ones you’d taken of Jake and the ones he’d taken of you as well as your home movie. You can’t resist fingering yourself as your moans and his grunts spill out of your computer speakers. You don't have to do much editing there, but you carefully load the incriminating footage onto two flash drives — one for you and one for him. The photos for the Navy, too, are edited in no time flat. 

It's in the afternoon when you head into the studio. When you get in, you're surprised to see all the Daggers, your boss, your team, and two Admirals waiting for you. Your boss runs the show, introducing and greeting them before the floor is ceded to you. You show the assembled guests the pictures you'd taken for the Navy. 

The pictures are well received, especially the photos of Lieutenant Trace. You wink cheekily at her as Admirals Simpson and Mitchell praise the juxtaposition of those shots. As you show the last picture, you can finally breathe. Your boss is proud, especially as the Admirals turn to her and approve the pictures. But you have one final set of pictures to deliver.

"Lieutenant Seresin, apologies. I found this in my bag this morning. It was lying in the changing room when I looked through it to ensure everyone had taken their things. It must've fallen out of the pocket of your flight jacket."

His smirk is salacious as he accepts the flash drive from your hand, apologizing for leaving it there. You hand him a note, too, and leave the room. You would pay to see the look on his face when he sees what you’ve written on it.

Jake -  Thanks for last night. Call me the next time you're in New York. I'd love to do it again. It certainly was a photo finish. XXX - XXX - XXXX

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

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