#prompt five camera
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agrinsosardonic · 7 months ago
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Snapshots
(July 5th: Camera)
I found it in the junk draw of the kitchen one summer day. A pink tomb- a relic from the middle of the new millennium. In it, I suspected, phantoms from distant nights haunted its old SD card. And when I connected it to my new laptop, I downloaded one-hundred and fifty rose gold memories. I shifted through each picture. Looked into the pixelated eyes of each person. Dressed in their best Myspace top 8s. Side bangs and cross necklaces. Half of us in tripp pants. The other half in backwards caps throwing up fake gang signs. Then I came upon a picture that has circulated everybody's facebook memories at least once. Each with the same I want to go back! Twenty faces standing infront of a midnight sky. Some friends. Other acquainces. Some friends of friends of friends. Most of us tagged so we relive the same conversation. The remember when…what happened to…we should get together…
And that picture, I actually had developed. And on it, I put X’s over all the people I no longer speak too, and crosses over the ones who died, and bars over the two who got arrested–one for DUI and one for selling oxys to high schoolers ten years after this picture was taken. I put question marks over the ones who left the island and never returned and who managed to scrub their digital footprint from a Google Search. I noted the ones who had kids too early. The ones who became police officers. The ones who became teachers and firefighters.
I circled me. On the far left. In a beanie and Slipknot hoodie with a broken face and hazy eyes and a frown that screamed louder than my voice ever could. And I recognized I was still haunted by his ghost, even thirteen years later. So, I burned the picture in my sink. Let the fire eat away at summer memories. Fill the apartment with the stench of chemicals and flame. Then I thought about tossing the camera in the trash with the rest of my teenage memories. But then I remember I didn’t own this coffin. It belonged to one of the people with a cross over their head.
So I threw it back into the junk drawer to be forgotten. To get dumped into another moving box one day, shuffled across another bridge. To maybe be found thirteen years from now
And the ritual repeats.
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ghost-bxrd · 1 year ago
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Prompt:
After everything, after the dust has settled in the wake of the Red Hood’s rampage through Gotham, after striking an uneasy truce with his once-family, Jason is… tired. Without the rage, without the vengeance, what does he have left?
Or, Jason pondering his current state of maybe-maybe-not-undead-ness and visiting his grave to do... something? Nothing? He’ll make it up as he goes.
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robo-dino-puppy · 1 year ago
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horizontober 2023 | 26: authority
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shhhsecretsideblog · 12 days ago
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Keep That Crown 
Ask: No. 19 during a dystopian tv game show where contestants have to do ridiculous physical challenges while fully dilated and ready to push. Last one to fully give birth wins fabulous prizes. 
Thank you Anon, this is the most amazingly ridiculous prompt ever and was a joy to write. The story is completely satire, unrealistic, and purely for entertainment purposes. Special thanks to the talented @exponenshul for writing the third challenge, and to @gravid-transluna for being my incredible beta. You’re both amazing humans! 💜 (8k words)
Prompt: “I can’t stop it… nnghhh I’m pushingg!”
~•~
"Goooooood evening guys and girls. It's Saturday night, we're live, and welcome to another episode of..." "Keep That Crown!" Cheers the studio audience.
The TV presenter, Danny, continues. "For those of you who are new to our little corner of television, this is a game show where we take five mothers-to-be and put them to the test in a number of household challenges. Sounds easy enough, right? Well, the catch is that each mum-to-be is in active labour...and fully dilated! Whoever can complete all five challenges without giving birth has a chance to win our grand prize, and the last one standing will win a whopping £100,000.00!"
"Oooooooh." The audience awes on cue.
"Now let's meet tonight's contestants." Danny says with a staged smile, his overly white teeth glinting under the spotlights. Walking across the studio floor the camera pans to five heavily pregnant women, each standing behind a podium displaying their name. "Contestant number one is Mandy. She's 41 weeks pregnant with her first baby, a girl. How are you doing tonight Mandy?" The presenter asks casually.
"Ooof- I'm good thanks Danny. Focused and ready for the challenges. It's my first baby so hoping that works in my favour... hooooo...." A contraction cuts off Mandy's fighting talk and she grips the podium and hangs her head, panting heavily.
"First time mums are usually the most successful at this game, so good luck, Mandy! Next up we have Anna." The TV presenter walks across to the next pregnant woman, who's holding her contracting belly and swaying her hips side to side. "Anna is also a first time mum-to-be, 39 weeks pregnant with a baby boy. Do you think you're going to win tonight, Anna?"
"Mnnnghh I'm gonna g-give it my best shot." Anna says timidly with a grimace and a forced smile.
"Contestant number 3 is Becky. Becky is 37 and a half weeks pregnant with her third baby. Some of you eagle eyed viewers may recognise Becky from her second pregnancy and birth. You were unsuccessful last time, managing only two rounds before the head popped out during the dishwasher challenge. Reckon you can make it to the final round this time, Becky?"
"I hope so... hooohooo.... But ohh, this labour came on quicker than expected.... Mnnnnngh, three hours from first contraction to full dilation. But I'm hoping this little one can stay in a bit longer." Becky's cheeks were flushed pink and the sweat glistened on her forehead. Her tight leggings showed just how wide her gait was and every couple of minutes her knees bounced.
"Well, good luck to you Becky." Danny said before turning directly towards the camera. "Looks like she's going to need it." He added with a laugh and a wink.
"Now, next up we have Claudia. Another first time mum, 40 weeks pregnant exactly." The brunette was in the midst of a contraction and merely waved at the camera before holding on to the podium and groaning under her breath.
"And finally we have Niamh. Niamh is 37 weeks pregnant and this is a first for Keep That Crown - she's pregnant with twins!" Danny announced to a cheer from the audience. "You caused quite the discussion with our producers Niamh, as you're pregnant with two lovely healthy babies, we had to decide what the rules would be. Now, even though you're carrying two, you will need to keep both babies from being born in order to qualify for the final round. Reckon you can do that?"
"Definitely, Danny!" Niamh answered confidently. "Twins run in my family, but so do long labours. I'm here to win!"
She planted her hands on her hips and grinned. Her bump was bigger and lower than any of the other contestants and yet she seemed the most relaxed and sure of herself.
"That's the spirit Niamh!" Danny said. "Okay, now that we've met the contestants, let's start the challenges!!" He walked over to a new part of the stage, which was set up like a mini grocery store. The contestants followed, albeit more slowly.
"The first challenge is our iconic grocery shop challenge." Danny explained to the five labouring mothers. "Each of you have been given a shopping list of 7 different items. Your task is to go through our pretend supermarket, collect all the items on your list, and make it back to your podiums. You can use either a basket or the trolly to carry your items, but all items must be back here before the time is up. And remember, no matter how much you want to push, you just have to..."
"Keep that crown!" Shouts the studio audience.
"On your marks, get set.... GO!"
Niamh and Becky were first off the mark and waddled quickly towards the pretend supermarket. They both grabbed a trolly and rushed up and down the aisles of food, searching feverishly for their items. Anna and Mandy were quick to follow, and they chose the handheld basket option. Claudia, however, hadn't left her original position.
"Claudia, you need to move if you're going to collect all your items before the time runs out..." Danny tried to encourage the mum-to-be, but she was groaning loudly and gripping the podium tight.
"Ohhhhhh god. It's so low.... The pressure...." She whimpered.
"Don't push, Claudia. You've got to keep that crown!"
She staggered forward on unsteady legs and eventually reached the supermarket trolly. Barely making it down one aisle, Claudia stopped and squatted, holding on to the cart with a white-knuckled grip.
"Looks like Claudia is already pushing...that was fast. She'd better hope the baby doesn't come out any further or she's not even going to make it through the first challenge!" Danny narrates the scene whilst the camera follows each woman around the store.
Anna and Mandy were throwing items into their baskets, rushing quickly between contractions. Niamh and Becky had already got the first few items in their trolley’s. Whilst Niamh was ploughing ahead, Becky was struck by a forceful contraction and was bracing herself against an aisle. The third-time mother had one hand between her legs and she was mooing slightly under her breath.
Claudia managed to get one item in her trolley but soon gave up completely, crumpling to the floor on all fours and actively pushing her baby out. The bulge in her leggings could be seen appearing and then slipping back again.
"And Niamh is the first one back! Impressive with her twin-filled bump. She's closely followed by Anna and Mandy." Danny joined the returning mothers who were bent over and panting back at their stands. "Becky is still working her way around the store, but seems to be struggling. And- uh oh, Claudia!"
The camera cuts to Claudia on all fours by the frozen foods, the distinctive outline of a fully birthed head now protruding her clothing.
"Aaaand we have our first birth, ladies and gentlemen. Unfortunately, Claudia was not able to get through the first challenge and is now delivering her baby in aisle 3!" Danny enthusiastically announced.
The cameras kept their focus on Claudia as she pushed and pushed, but cut back to the TV host when the medical team went over to undress the birthing mother and help deliver the baby.
The sound of a baby crying filled the studio, and the show went to commercial break.
~•~
"Welcome back to Part 2 of Keep That Crown! We have four ladies left in the competition with just as many challenges still to go." Danny said while giving an award-winning smile to the camera.
"Next up is our infamous dishwasher challenge. Looking at you, Becky!" The presenter jokes and the camera cuts to the labouring mother in question. Becky is sweating and holding her extremely low baby bump and rolls her eyes.
Danny continues explaining to the audience at home. "In this challenge, our mums-to-be are tasked with unloading a dishwasher. Now, I've never been pregnant myself so at first, I didn't fully understand why this task would be a challenge. However, since working on this show, I've come to realise just how difficult it is for a heavily pregnant woman to load and unload a dishwasher. It may sound easy, folks, but this challenge has got the better of quite a few mums over the years. Not to mention our current contestant, Becky."
Danny, followed by the camera, travels across the studio to talk to the mums. "Now last time Becky, when you were birthing your second child, this was the challenge that got you. Do you think you'll fare any better tonight?" The presenter asked.
"I don't know Danny... mnghhhh... this baby is pretty desperate to- ugh!- come out." Becky's hands were holding her bump as she swayed side to side, knees dipping whenever she grunted.
"It certainly sounds that way!" Danny's eyebrows raised at the deep groans coming from this third-time-mum. "Now, if you could all make your way over to your allocated dishwashers."
Danny followed the women to the dishwasher setup and began to instruct. "Each of you has an identical dishwasher filled with crockery, cutlery and glassware. Your task is to get all the items out of the machine and stacked on top. You can start on the sound of the buzzer. Three... two... one..."
A klaxon is heard blaring across the studio and the music starts.
Each of the four contestants seemed to approach the challenge in a different way, and Danny began commentating on the challenge as it unfolded.
"First-time mums Mandy and Anna, each carrying one baby and having the smallest bumps of the group, have gone for the regular, forward bend. Mandy is attempting the bottom tray first, starting with the plates and crockery in the most cumbersome of the locations, whereas Anna has decided to tackle the glassware on the top tray, perhaps waiting to build herself up for the more difficult lower level.
"And Becky, our darling returning mum-to-be, has clearly made a strategy after last time. She's taken a new approach of kneeling on the ground beside the dishwasher, picking up plates and putting them on top of the machine. There'll be less physical movement with this choice, but whether her strategy pays off - time will tell." "And lastly we have our mum of twins Niamh. With the biggest belly, carrying two very healthy babies, doesn't have the option of the forward bend and is clearly not sure about getting down onto her knees. What is she going to do ladies and gentlemen?.... Oh, wow. That's a risky move from Niamh!"
The expectant mum of twins was rather nimbly dropping into a deep squat, her obscenely large belly hanging low between her jackknifed thighs and brushed the ground. Collecting a few plates and holding them against her bump in one arm, she pulls herself back to standing to place them above the machine. Seconds later, she's squatting again, collecting the side plates and bowls.
"Wow. Our Irish beauty Niamh is flying ahead in this challenge, but her method is risky and we have never ever seen it used successfully before." Danny's tone showed he was impressed.
Becky had managed to unload half of the bottom tray before she started to obviously struggle. Her knees slide wider on the studio floor, another contraction tightening up her bump and contorting it into a hard round ball. Bracing the tops of her thighs her hips sunk low to the ground and she grunted long and deep.
"Oh no!" Danny cried out. "Looks like Becky is pushing again. Her third baby is eager to join us."
The camera zooms in on the labouring woman; her face red and splotchy with the effort of birth. She was panting and groaning heavily, and from the low angle of the camera, the bulge in her leggings was undeniable. Shouts began to arise from the studio audience. "Don't push!" "Keep that crown!"
"Come on Becky, this challenge bested you last time- don't let it happen again! Keep that crown, mumma!" Danny encouraged.
The third time mum couldn't stop pushing, so in desperation she placed a hand between her thighs to stop the baby coming out any further. Becky grunted forcefully again into her palm and when the contraction was over and her hand removed, the head still appeared to be at a full crown inside her clothing, but was no longer moving. Becky exhaled, shook her head, and continued to remove the remaining items in her dishwasher.
"Anna is flying ahead in this challenge, closely followed by Niamh - those twins seem happy to stay in her belly." Danny observed. "...But it looks like Mandy is starting to struggle."
The soon to be mum was bent over the dishwasher, bracing her thighs and circling her hips, all thoughts of the challenge momentarily forgotten. Her heavy belly squished up tight, contracting forcefully and trying to evict its occupant. She whimpered and wailed as her baby sunk lower and lower, stretching her wide, desperate to be born.
"Uh oh, looks like she's struggling to keep that baby in. The question is.... Will she push?" Danny teased joyfully, adding drama to the already chaotic scenes.
Mandy could be seen muttering to herself under her breath.... Don't push don't push don't push... And yet her efforts were in vain, as the labouring mother soon dropped into a deep squat and bore down, groaning loudly.
"Mandy- hooooo... no! Don't p-push!!" Anna tried to encourage her fellow contestant, breathing heavily as she placed her final item on top of the dishwasher completing the challenge.
"Nnngghhhhh... I can't stop it! I'm pushing!!" Mandy cried, letting out a primal grunt. The bulge between her open legs got bigger and bigger as she pushed, the baby slipping further between her folds and into her tight leggings.
"Aaaaand Anna is the first to complete the challenge!" Danny announces loudly to the studio. "But it looks like we have yet another mother falling at the dishwasher hurdle. Mandy, that baby is almost out.... If the head comes fully out, you are out of the competition."
"Oh god! No..... it's coming out!!!!" Mandy groaned, her body working of its own accord, bearing down and pushing the giant head through her opening. The unmistakable cry of relief that followed told everyone in the studio that the baby's head had been born.
"That leaves three remaining contestants; Anna has finished the task, closely followed by Niamh. Darn, I was sure all that squatting was going to result in a birth- but well done to Niamh! Who do we have left? Oh yes, Becky." Danny smiled and walked beside the labouring mother as she tried to complete the task. "How are we doing Becky?"
"Mnnghhh!" Becky apparently could not speak, putting all her focus and energy on the two tasks - unloading the dishwasher and not birthing her baby. Her knees were wide as she knelt on the floor, the baby's head way beyond a full crown but not quite fully born. She huffed as she picked up the last remaining item, her body trembling as she reached up to place the small plate on the top of the machine, the crockery clinking as she shook whilst stretching up, desperately trying to get that final item in place and complete the challenge that had previously beaten her.
"YES!!!" She cried when the plate slipped onto the pile of clean dishes, and panted heavily with relief. Whoops and cheers rang out from the audience.
"You did it!!!! Well done Becky." Danny exclaimed. "Now, let's go to commercial break, giving our mothers a well-earned rest-" ...the sound of Mandy grunting and pushing in the background briefly interrupted the TV host... "-and also to let Mandy birth her baby girl. Be back in five, folks!"
~•~
Shortly thereafter, Danny and the contestants were lined up for the next challenge, each woman now standing in front of a wardrobe.
"Welcome back to Keep That Crown, where we've had an exciting first two rounds!" Danny announced. "Let's take a moment to check up on our contestants before we move on, shall we?"
He walked over to Anna, who was holding out strong, but definitely getting tired. She was sweating profusely and cradling her low, heavy belly.
"So, what are your thoughts on the challenges so far, Anna?" Danny asked.
"Umm...hmm." Anna muttered, obviously not focused on answering questions. "It's tough. But...hngggh...I think I can h-hold on."
"Let's hope!" Danny said, striding over to the next contestant. "And how are you feeling, Niamh?"
"Feeling good!" Niamh proclaimed, patting her belly. She was breathing heavier and a few beads of sweat could be detected on her forehead, but otherwise she was looking fine. "Ready for another round."
Danny nodded. "Well, that certainly was an impressive feat you pulled off in the last challenge!" He chuckled, then continued on to the last remaining contestant. "And, Becky..."
Becky was standing shamelessly in a somewhat bow-legged position, a massive bulge still in her leggings, as big as before and dripping fluid through her clothes. Surely she was only one small push away from birthing the head. Her whole body was practically shaking from the effort of keeping her baby in.
"...I'm just surprised that baby hasn't budged at all," Danny said frankly.
Becky grunted and her jaw clenched. "Just...get on with the- huuuhh- challenge," She grumbled, stowing one hand between her trembling thighs.
Danny returned to his side of the stage. "All right, time for round three! This one is the Dress-Up challenge. Each contestant has been provided with a wardrobe. Inside is a dress which you must change into, as if you were getting ready for your very own baby shower! Once that's complete, you'll have to return the dress and change back into your regular clothes."
The contestants gave each other exasperated looks. Getting changed is hard work for a pregnant woman even on a normal day... doing it while deep in labour was going to be tough.
"On your marks...get set...go!!" Danny hollered.
The women turned toward their wardrobes and opened them up. They each had an identical dress, with loose, thin cloth that was sure to fit their maternal bodies. Getting it on would be the hard part.
Becky grabbed the dress right away, but she looked over and saw the women next to her starting to take off their tops and bottoms. She looked over at Danny. "Uhh...do we need to strip down to our underwear for this challenge...?"
"Yes, that's usually part of getting changed..." Danny said with a chuckle. The audience laughed along with him.
Becky gulped. "Nngh...o-okay..."
Niamh had already removed her top and was shimmying her leggings down over her hips, leaving her in only a bra and panties.
Anna followed suit, but had to stop before getting her shirt over her head due to a contraction. She doubled over and groaned, gripping her belly. "Oohhh...hoo, God, I dunno if I can do this..."
Meanwhile, Becky was still looking between herself and the dress, only slowly starting to lift her shirt up as her baby's crowning head continued to burden her. It seemed the stress was getting to her.
Niamh sat her clothes off to the side and grabbed the dress. She paused for a contraction, but it barely seemed to phase her. She bent over a bit and exhaled deeply before quickly righting herself.
Anna was now struggling with getting off her leggings. She'd chosen to wear extra tight leggings, hoping they would help hold in the baby in an emergency. But now, after working up a sweat, the fabric clung to her. She was able to roll them down past her hips, but another contraction struck. She squatted just a tad, on shaky legs. "Mmmggghh come on!"
Beside her, Niamh had pulled the dress up over her head, knowing that was the only way it was fitting around her big twin bump.
Becky had only just removed her shirt. She was standing there in her bra and tented-out leggings, clutching her firm belly and muttering to herself.
"Becky?" Danny called out, not sure what was going on. "You should strip down a little quicker if you want to carry on with the challenge..."
Becky gulped again, then nodded. "O-okay..."
Anna had gotten her leggings to her ankles, but as she tried to kick them off, her belly cramped again and she fell forward onto her knees. She grimaced and cried out. "Nooooo aghhh I can feel it coming! I-I don't wanna puuush!"
"Folks, Anna says she doesn't want to push...but will her body agree?!" Danny wondered aloud. The audience focused their attention on the poor labouring woman.
Anna clenched her fists, grunting through the contraction. Now in just her panties, it was all the more clear that she was starting to bulge from the baby's head...
Suddenly, a gasp from the audience. "Wait...what's that? What's she wearing?!"
People turned their heads toward the cause of her outcry. The TV cameras pointed toward Becky, and Danny's jaw dropped when he saw what was happening.
Becky had gotten her leggings down to her knees but the act had revealed her secret weapon. Beneath her leggings and over her underwear, she was wearing a thick leather belt with material that went over her crotch.
Murmurs began to rise in the audience. "Is that... a chastity belt?" "For real? Is that allowed?"
Becky blushed, both from embarrassment and exertion.
Danny was flabbergasted. "Well, I've never seen this, folks...Becky was wearing a leather chastity belt the whole time!"
More audience comments. "Wow, how did she hide that?" "No wonder she was able to hold that baby in!"
"Now, as we know, cheating or giving yourself any unfair advantage is strictly against the rules..." Danny said solemnly. "So, I'm afraid that means I'm going to have to disqualify you from the competition, Becky."
Cameras zoomed in as tears welled in Becky's eyes. "I'm...sorry," she whimpered. "I just...wanted to win so badly this time...but- hnnnngggaaah!"
She was cut off as another contraction hit her. She fell to her knees, and it was clear she was pushing as hard as she could. But no matter how hard she pushed, the baby's head couldn't fully emerge with the leather in the way. She groaned heavily. "Gghh...but...I give up! I'm done! Someone- nngngghhh- just get this belt off of me! The baby needs to come OUT!"
The medics rushed over while the studio audience reeled from the chaos. The cameras turned back to Danny, who was still somewhat in shock. "Well, that was certainly something, folks! We have only two contestants remaining, now. Let's see how they're doing."
Neither Niamh nor Anna let themselves be too distracted by what transpired- they had more important things to focus on. Niamh had fully put on her dress and was taking a minute to pose in it for the cameras. Anna had resisted the urge to push for the time being, and was now grabbing her own dress. She adorned it in a very stiff manner, trying not to move around too much and risk wanting to bear down again.
Niamh removed her dress with ease, but as she was reaching for her original clothes again, a contraction gripped her. This time, she leaned against her wardrobe and groaned, rubbing her belly. She turned her head down and winced, and it looked like she may have finally been starting to falter.
"What are you feeling, Niamh?" Danny asked, trying to sound engaged again after the previous incident. "Hang on, you're almost there!"
"Mmghh...not pushing yet, Danny!" Niamh said, returning to her confident demeanour. She grabbed her clothes and stood back up fully.
Anna had gotten her dress on, but was hunched over again, cradling her swell. "Hooo...gghh...it wants to come out...s-so bad..." She glanced over at Danny. "Can I just...nngggh...keep the dress on?"
"The challenge isn't complete until you change back into your regular clothes!" Danny insisted. Anna groaned and began trying to strip the dress off.
Niamh was once more working at a surprisingly fast pace. With her dress cast aside, she was able to quickly get her clothes back on. It took a bit of time to wrestle her shirt back over her big bump, but once it was on, she raised her arms in victory. The audience cheered.
"It looks like Niamh has completed the challenge! That just leaves Anna- will she make it?" Danny announced.
Anna now had her shirt back on and was gripping her leggings in one hand, but she was riding through another contraction. She leaned on her arms against the wardrobe, her hips angled back.
"Ooohh...ooh, no, baby...nnggghh!" The labouring woman moaned. She tensed up, and her panties bulged out just slightly. The baby was starting to crown. "Guh...I just...gotta get these leggings back on..."
After a few rounds together and only two contestants left, the audience was getting invested. They began to chant, "Go! Go! Keep that crown!"
Mustering her strength, Anna bent down and started to put on her leggings. She was sweating, and it took a great deal of effort to pull the fabric up around her shaky legs. She grunted and panted, trying to keep her legs together long enough to get the leggings over her thighs and hips, even though she desperately wanted to spread them and push.
After a couple minutes of struggle, Anna was finally able to hike her leggings up tight around her waist. She felt between her legs and gave a small sigh of relief, knowing that there was more of a barrier over the emerging head now.
Danny clapped along with the audience. "Well done, Anna! That's round three done. Let's take a quick break and set up for the fourth challenge!"
~•~
“Welcome back to Keep That Crown.” Danny said straight to camera with his best showbiz smile. “If you are just joining us you have missed one hell of an episode so far; three babies born, a set of twins still on the way and our first case of cheating by chastity belt. You certainly won’t get all that on any other show!” 
The camera zooms out and reveals Danny is standing between two heavily pregnant women. “We have two mums-to-be left in the competition - the lovely Anna on my left, expecting a little boy, and the incredible Niamh on my right, who is carrying twins. Now girls, we’re over half-way through the competition now and it’s just the two of you left. How are you feeling Anna?” 
Standing behind her podium Anna pants heavily, her face flushed, gripping her belly and forcing a smile. “It’s— it’s definitely getting tougher. Hooooo… it’s so hard not to p-push….” Her feeble voice whimpers with another contraction and Danny takes the cue and turns his attention to Niamh. 
“And Niamh, you have been storming through these challenges, and you are carrying two babies in there.” He nods and pats Niamh’s obscenely large belly drooping from her hips. “Have you been struggling to resist the urges to push as well?” 
“Well having two of them in there certainly adds a level of difficulty but… mnnnhhh… it’s been okay so far. Just need to breathe through those u-urges…” Niamh’s confident words ring out across the studio but her knees bend subtly, her hands cupping the underside of her gravid swell as one of the baby’s head sinks and presses even lower. 
“There are two more challenges to go. Let’s hope you both can make it through round four. For this challenge each of you will be given a baby doll, your task will be to change the baby’s nappy, dress the baby, and get them into the pram. Don’t worry Niamh, unlike real life you don’t have to do this twice. You each get one baby.” 
The Irish mum laughed through gritted teeth, trying to keep her cool through the increasing contractions. 
“If you two lovely ladies follow me.” Danny instructed, walking the labouring mothers to a new corner of the television studio. Both mothers were walking more and more bow-legged by the minute, but followed silently behind the host. 
“As you can see there are three parts to this challenge; nappy change, dressing baby, and the pram. And I know what you’re thinking, you’re thinking “Oh but Danny, you’ve forgotten to set up the prams” but we haven’t.” The TV host smirked to the camera and the audience at home. “Prams these days are so nifty, collapsing into the smallest space to fit easily into the boot of your cars. You will have to work out how to open the pram in order to safely strap your baby doll into the seat.” 
Niamh nodded in understanding, her eyes already analysing the pram in question and its potential latches. Anna meanwhile looked hesitant, nervous, holding her belly and swaying her hips in rapid movements to try and alleviate the relentless pressure between them. 
“Right, Anna you stand here. And Niamh you stand here.” Danny ushered the labouring women to their respective stations for the challenge. “Any questions?” 
“C-can we get any h-help with the pram? Like a partner?” Anna stuttered, trying to steady her breath and her spasming womb. 
“I’m afraid no help is allowed. You have to do all parts of this challenge by yourself. And you can’t leave the baby on the changing mat when you set up the pram, they could roll off, so you must carry them and put them in the pram.” 
Anna paled briefly, looking like she might faint or throw up. 
“On your marks… get set… go!!” Danny cheered and the tense but upbeat music of the challenge sounded around the studio. 
It was neck-and-neck through the first part of the challenge, with both Niamh and Anna confidentially removing the nappy from the toy baby and wrapping a new one over the bottom half of the doll. They weren’t competing for the quickest time, they just had to complete the challenge from start to finish, but even without the time pressure the urgency was clear from the expressions of both women. They wanted this challenge done so they could be one step closer to birthing their babies. 
Unsurprisingly, Niamh finished the nappy change first. The Irish mother was already an audience favourite and steaming ahead in this game. However, before she could pick up the baby clothes to dress the doll her eyes suddenly widened and she curled forward over her large twin-filled belly, gripping the edge of the wooden change table in a death grip. 
“Mmmghhh— oh god!!!!” Niamh groaned loudly as her belly visibly contracted and squashed her babies lower towards their exit. “Fuck…. I can f-feel a head….hoohoohoo…” 
“Oh no, looks like our fan-favourite is starting to struggle.” Danny said excitedly. 
Groaning deeply. Niamh squeezed her grip on the changing table and screwed her eyes shut. “Nngh—! The pressure—” the Irish mother grunted and her knees dipped and widened. 
Seeing her competition struggling, Anna bit her lip through the contraction and quickly pulled the clothing onto her doll and finished the first and second part of the challenge in rapid time. As she stepped towards the pram, the toy baby in arms, it was clear that Anna was racing against more than just her competitor. Her hand lowered, trembling with the effort of denying her instincts, and felt the partially crowned head. “Come on baby…. Just a little bit longer.” Her quiet words to her child were picked up on the microphone and an encouraging cheer erupted from the audience. 
With one arm holding the fake baby, Anna had to work out how to open the pram single-handed. Huffing her way through contractions, red-faced and sweating, Anna pulled and twisted the handle but the pram remained in its collapsed state. 
Niamh meanwhile had survived the aggressive contraction but in her desperation had clamped a hand between her thighs to try and keep herself from pushing. She was now attempting to dress the baby one-handed which wasn’t very successful. 
“Niamh, you’re going to have to work with both hands if you want to keep your winning streak.” Danny said to the contestant over the audience's cheers. 
“But— but it feels like the baby is slipping o-out….” Niamh was frazzled, overcome with the sensations of birth and her cool confidence was fast unravelling. 
“Uh oh— Niamh says the baby is slipping out. What does she need to do ladies and gentlemen?” Danny asked the excitable studio audience who responded with a chorus of “KEEP THAT CROWN!” 
“Ooohhhhhh…. Danny!!! The pram… it just w-won’t o-open!!!!” Anna shouted and the camera pans around to find her on her knees beside the collapsed contraption. The doll was wedged in an elbow so she could use both hands and she was frustratingly pulling and squeezing and twisting every inch of the pram trying desperately to unlock and open it. 
“They do open Anna. They just have a little… knack to them.” Danny winked at the camera before it panned out to show both women struggling to open their prams while simultaneously crowning with their unborn babies. 
“Jesus, who the fuck designed this thing?!” Niamh cursed as she pulled the handle expecting it to expand but grunted with frustration when it didn’t. The Irish mum-to-be had stuffed the toy doll down her top after dressing it, wedging it under her shirt between her breasts and belly in order to use both hands on the final part of this challenge. 
“Ohhhhh god… this baby wants o-ouuttt….” Anna rocked on hands and knees, momentarily abandoning her pram and putting all her efforts into not giving birth. 
Niamh wasn’t looking much better, grunting and occasionally placing her hands between her thighs when her body automatically pushed. 
“This is going to be a close one ladies and gentlemen. Looks like both Anna and Niamh are pushing and it’s going to be a battle of willpower to see who makes it through this challenge.” 
“Mmngghhh….. no— don’t come out—!” Anna grunted, pulling the waistband of her leggings up and making the fabric taut and unforgiving at the crotch, creating a barrier against the emerging head. 
“Oh! Oh! I’ve got it!!” Niamh cried, finding the switch that when pressed allowed the pram to fully expand. “Anna… it’s on the left, by the l-logo…” Niamh panted as she pulled the fake baby out from under her top and almost threw it into the seat, quickly buckling the baby into the straps and clamping her hands between her thighs once more before the next contraction could strike. 
Anna scrambled on her knees, searching for the latch Niamh had mentioned. The pressure between her hips was building, the baby certainly at a full crown in her underwear. “Ohhhh god…. I need to push….” Rocking on her knees Anna flailed her hands over the pram and with a cry of relief found the button and the pram popped open. Placing her fake baby in the seat and buckling it in, tears fell from Anna’s eyes as she trembled against the raging waves of her labour. 
“Wow! Excellent work ladies; you have both completed the fourth challenge.” Danny announced, genuinely impressed that both contestants were still in the game. “Let’s take a quick break and we will be back with the fifth and final challenge. Who will keep that crown, and who will fall at the last hurdle? See you in five!” 
~•~
“Welcome back to the final part of Keep That Crown, the only game show that’ll have you pushing babies instead of buttons. As you may have guessed, we are getting in the Christmas spirit for the fifth and final challenge.” Danny wiggles his head slightly and the camera pans out to reveal a red and white Santa hat on top of his perfectly styled hair. “We decided to change things up as the holiday season approaches and we have a festive final challenge for you this week. Don’t worry folks, it is a relatively simple task, but… doing it whilst deep in the throes of labour?…” The wide and wicked grin from the TV presenter shines bright across the studio right into the television screens to all the people at home. “This may be our toughest challenge to date.”
As Danny continued talking to the camera the distinctive sounds of groaning and heavy breathing in the background grew louder. Danny walks across the studio, followed by the camera, and stands beside the two remaining contestants who were both now dressed up as Mrs Santa Claus. In hourglass silhouettes, the red velvet cinched at the waist but stretched tight across their pregnant bellies, the hem finished with luscious white fur. The dresses were short, barely covering their hips, allowing a clear view of the tight leggings underneath. Niamh’s hands were still clamped between her thighs as she sweated profusely, panting erratically. While Anna was groaning, her hands splayed wide across the velvet surface of her belly as if she could just hold the baby inside. 
“Ladies, I see you’re both dressed for the season.” Danny said cheerfully but his enthusiasm was not reciprocated. Anna’s face was blotchy and flushed as she held back her urges, sweat rolling down the side of her cheeks. Whereas Niamh looked fiery and frustrated, her knees dipping every few seconds, hands clamped firm at her crotch as she gritted “Get-on-with-it-!” 
Danny put his hands up in mock-surrender “Okay, okay. Let’s get on with the final task…. The Christmas Tree challenge!” In a corner of the studio there were two large Christmas trees, over 10ft in height, and both were completely bare. Beside each tree was a box filled with all manner of decorations from lights and tinsel, to beads and baubles. “Niamh, Anna, your challenge is simple; to decorate the Christmas tree. Your Christmas trees must be completely decorated, from the lowest branches all the way to the highest. Your tree must have at least 3 different types of decorations and it must have the star on the very top.” 
Two assistants on the show briefly came into shot, each placing a step ladder beside the trees and promptly running off stage. The ladders were clearly for the women to use in order to get to the very top of the Christmas tree. Anna visibly gulped with fear, while Niamh was staring at the floor very obviously pushing against her hand. 
“I would usually speak with each of you before the challenge, but erm, I’m guessing neither of you are up for chit chat..?” Danny asked with a laugh and got a grunting response from the Irish mother-to-be. “Okay then. Let’s dive into the challenge. On your marks, get set, GO!” 
Immediately Niamh waddled bow-legged and determined towards her tree, carefully removing one hand from between her legs and grabbing the set of Christmas lights from her box. Staggering side to side around the large tree, the labouring woman tossed sections of the lights with reckless abandon onto the different branches of the pine tree. Round and around she went adding the white lights up the tree but when she reached shoulder height she looked nervously up at the top of the tree, knowing what had to be done next. Niamh stood at the bottom of the step-ladder, gripping it tight with one fist while the other remained firm between her legs. She paused, waiting for the miniscule gap between contractions, before taking a hesitant step up the ladder. 
Meanwhile Anna seemed to be struggling to put one foot in front of the other, her head was dipped low as she held her large bump and breathed heavily. She tried to move but a squeaking whimper came out instead. 
“Come on Anna, you’re so close, don’t give up now.” Danny tried to encourage. 
“Oooohhh… I can’t— move—” Anna said with a fearful whine. 
Danny watched her struggle for a few seconds before taking pity on the girl and wrapped a supportive arm around her waist. “Come on, love. Let’s get you to your tree.” Angry voices came through the presenter’s earpiece as he then yelled to someone off screen “I’m just helping her get to the challenge, that’s all!” 
When they reached her designated challenge area, Anna gripped onto the step ladder, her wide legs trembling with the effort of not giving birth. “I can’t help you anymore sweetheart, but you’re so close. You can do this.” Danny encouraged quietly. Anna nodded, breathing deeply, preparing herself for the final hurdle. Then she abruptly let go of the ladder and dived into the decorations box grabbing as much as she could carry and unceremoniously whacking the decorations along the bottom branches of the tree. 
The Irish mother-to-be was now halfway up the step ladder trying to throw the Christmas lights around the top few branches of the tree. With a final effort she rose up onto her tiptoes and leant forward, lassoing the lights over the very top. The movement came with a price as a split second later the microphone caught her sharp gasp and the camera showed a clear bulge protruding between her thighs, her hand quickly moved to clamp hard against her crotch. 
“Niamh….” Danny’s words were jokingly stern as he stood beneath her ladder. “Was that a head poking through?” 
“No! Nnnghh— of course not. Still-ohhhh-very much c-crowning Danny!” She gritted loudly with a slight hiss through her teeth. 
“Good girl, remember to Keep That Crown!” Danny said, getting the audience to join in, everyone soon chanting the show’s iconic catchphrase. 
Over by the other tree, Anna had thrown all manner of decorations onto the bottom half of the pine tree. There was no style or strategy, the labouring woman frantically grabbing and hooking any decoration she could find onto the spindly branches. Sweat was dripping down her face and she took a breather at the decoration table, wiping her brow with the thick soft velvet of the sleeve of her festive costume. Anna lowered a hand between her legs, her eyes pinching hesitantly as she felt the crown of her baby’s head just inside her clothing. 
“Stay there little guy.” She whispered, exhausted but determined. 
“Anna, how are you getting on, sweetheart?” Danny asked, out of shot of the camera but carefully watching and narrating the scene to the audience at home.  
“I’m— ohhhhhh— hanging in there. And…I’ve got an idea…” Anna said aloud, then surprisingly picked up the whole plastic box of decorations and carried it over and up the step ladder. 
Gasps could be heard from the studio audience, impressed at her stamina and strength. Niamh looked up, worried at the reaction from the audience, and tried to look over at her competitor but couldn’t see past the thick branches of the tree. 
Higher and higher Anna climbed, the box wedged into the curve of her waist beneath her outstretched arm. Then, upon reaching the top of the ladder, she loudly dumped the decorations on the top step. The labouring woman proceeded to stand half-way up the ladder, picking up each item from the box and hanging it onto a branch. Her mis-mash of decorations meant she was already meeting the criteria of the task - to have at least three different types of decorations. Whereas her competitor Niamh, having chosen to add lights, meant she was having to go around the whole tree again to add the decorations. 
The tension in the studio could be cut with a knife, both women evenly matched in their birthing progress, but Anna was taking a surprisingly clear lead in completing the challenge. 
“It's neck-a-neck on this final challenge folks, but who will come out victorious? Can both Anna and Niamh hold off from giving birth just that little bit longer…. Or will they fall at the final hurdle?”  Danny riled up the studio audience who had started chanting support for their favourite contestant. 
Anna was getting higher up the step ladder, getting closer and closer to finishing the challenge. But Niamh was faltering. Badly. She was still on the ground, trying painfully slowly to add decorations to the bottom half of the tree. To the camera she was partially hidden behind the thick branches of the Christmas tree, the odd flash of red and white from her costume coming in and out of view. Her deep, rumbling groans and grunts could be heard over the speakers, because even though she was hidden, the microphone she wore captured everything… 
“nnnghhh—!! No! Don’t— gggrhhh—” the rough husky voice of the Irish mother-to-be echoed around the studio. 
The flash of red velvet behind the tree appeared to be sinking lower and lower, heading towards the ground. Danny, wide eyed, rushed over and beckoned the cameras to follow. 
“Oh…. Niamh….” Danny said as the camera showed everyone in the audience and at home the impending mother of twins. 
Down on her knees, Niamh braced her thighs with both hands, her whole body trembling. Her ass was raised up off her heels and the round shape of a baby’s head was forming under her leggings as she pushed. 
“Nnnnghhh—!!! It’s coming out—!!!!!” Niamh wailed, and then collapsed forwards onto her hands with a cry of relief when the head, very evidently, was born. 
“That’s it folks, our fan favourite is now out of the competition.” Danny said brightly to the camera, before adding “Niamh, you should be very proud. You did amazing. You’ve set the bar extremely high for any other twin pregnancies that’s for sure.” 
Niamh remained curled over on all fours, panting as she caught her breath, the medics rushing onto the studio floor to help her deliver her twins. The camera cuts back to Danny, who strolls between the Christmas trees talking to the audience. 
“So, that leaves us with one mother-to-be left in the competition. Anna,” he called up the ladder to the last woman standing “if you can finish this challenge, you’ve done it.” 
Anna was all the way up the ladder at this point, riffling through the box of decorations and throwing them haphazardly on the top few branches of the tree. The audience cheered and yelled, supporting and encouraging the last remaining contestant as she struggled through the final hurdle. She sagged against the ladder when the decorations were done, heaving deep breaths and gripping the ladder for dear life. When she started to descend the step ladder, Danny interrupted urgently. 
“No! Anna, you still need to add the star at the top!!”
Anna looked like she was about to cry, or scream at him. Her whole body was trembling with the effort of not giving birth, the constant low rumblings from her chest as she fought the back to back contractions. With quaking hands she rummaged through the box, trying to find the star as quickly as she could. Every now and then she’d grunt involuntarily, resulting in tense gasps from the audience, the camera zooming in on her closely. 
“Come on Anna, find that star! You can do it!” Danny yelled up the ladder. She held it proudly in the air when her hands found the glittery item and proceeded to step to the very top of the ladder. As she reached the top she fiercely threw the box of decorations to the floor to stand right on the highest step. 
The whole studio was silent, breaths collectively held as they watched the labouring woman atop the ladder, stretching,  reaching up and up and up, straining to get the star on the very top of the tree. 
A wild cheer erupted as the decoration was put into its rightful place and Danny announced loudly; “YOU DID IT! Anna, you did it!! You’ve won £100,000!” 
Anna didn’t even make it back to the ground before she was actively pushing and the head came out before her feet even touched the floor. 
~ if you like & enjoy my work, please show support via my ko-fi 💜 ~
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reiderwriter · 8 months ago
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🔐 Password Protected 🔐
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Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader
For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 2024
Requested: "Hii Kacie, may I put in a request of a NSFW prompt? Any plotline or back story is fine I trust your talent :"> Reader's boobs/asscheeks recoill during sex turning Spencer on even more "I wish you could have my view right now" he grabs the phone to open the camera app."
Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, DubCon Hidden camera, dry humping, free use, soft to hard Dom!Spencer, sub! Reader, creampie, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink, implied oral sex, implied bondage, implied somno, pictures/ photos, degradation (slut, whore etc,) and pet names (Princess, sir, angel etc,), nipple play/torture, multiple orgasms.
A/N: Here's my second fic for the CM Kink Bingo 2024~♡ I'm definitely all over the board now, so who knows if I'I hit bingo this year, Imao? Anyways, I hope you enjoy~ And to my dear friend :"^ anon - thank you for your inspiring request.
Masterlist || Bingo Board
With a glorious lull in cases to close over the summer, the biggest mystery in the BAU was “What's in the locked folder on Spencer's phone?” 
The man had made the (technologically inept) mistake of leaving his new phone unlocked on his desk in a bullpen full of criminal profilers. To say you'd all descended like vultures to a fresh carcass was putting it extremely lightly.
“What apps does he have? Five dollars says there's a dictionary app,” Emily joked, leaning over Morgan's shoulder to try and catch a glimpse of the screen. You were similarly perched at his other shoulder. 
“He can probably recite the dictionary himself, and I don't think he'd know how to download apps,” you scoffed, scrolling up in the phone yourself to the app page. 
“There's got to be something good in the camera roll, right?” Morgan said, clicking into it to find some dirt on the much too innocent Spencer Reid. Which is where you'd found quaint pictures of the sky, some pages from a book and the folder. 
The one with a little lock on it signalling the boundary. Spencer had figured out how to use a locked folder - you'd be impressed if you weren't so curious about what was inside. 
“Placing bets, people? My money is on work documents,” Morgan chuckled, losing interest swiftly in the phone and pressing it into your hands. “It's not like the kid has a lot going on romantically, right?”
You kept your mouth shut as the others nodded in agreement. While Spencer Reid may not have anything romantic going on officially, he definitely had something sexual going on. You'd been in his bed five of the last six days, losing count on the amount of times he'd fucked you into oblivion, using your body as freely as he wished, cumming inside of you to finish before washing off all traces of your coupling and cuddling upto you as you slept. 
It wasn't quite a relationship, but dear god, did you never want it to end. You hadn't been so satisfied, so fulfilled (emphasis on the filled) in a long time. 
“What are you doing with my phone?” You heard Spencer question from behind you, and you turned, trying to mask your embarrassment. You really didn't want him to think you were some obsessive not-girlfriend going through his messages, and almost dropped the phone like it was a bomb when your eyes met his. 
“We were just debating what you could possibly have to hide in your gallery’s locked folder,” Emily laughed, clapping the man on the back and smiling up at him. “Help me win $20 and tell Morgan here that you made it accidentally and don't know the password.” 
“Hey, I didn't agree to any bet yet,” Morgan laughed, kicking his feet up on his desk. 
“Only because you know you're wrong.” 
They bickered just long enough to let Spencer take a step closer to you, slipping the phone easily out of your hand and back into his pocket. His voice was low, his mouth close to his ear when he finally sated your curiosity. 
“I think you may want to distract them from this topic, Y/N. I don't think you'll like it if they demand to see what kind of pictures and…videos I have in that folder.” 
His tone wasn't suggestive, but it still lit a fire in your belly with the implication alone. You'd warmed his bed for long enough to know that you were the only one sharing it, but you didn't remember him taking any pictures or videos of you. Shit, had you been so desperate that you'd completely blanked him capturing a folders worth of images of you servicing his cock? 
You took the hunt and stepped away from him, picking up a file quickly and glancing over it before turning to Emily. Distracting them with work was the only way to keep them off the scent and distract you must.
Even if it did mean you were inconvenienced with curiosity and lust for the rest of the day. 
When you finally finished work, you practically hammered down Spencer's door, trying to get answers to questions he'd left hung in the air earlier. You were a visual learner, so you dearly hoped he'd answer by simply just showing you what you'd missed. 
“Y/N,” he said, opening the door with a sweet smile, drawing you into the apartment with a slow, honeyed kiss. You felt him smile into you, his touch chaste enough around your arms to still your beating heart. You languished in the kiss as he pulled you on closer, shutting the door behind you as he opened you up to him, pulling you further under his spell than usual. 
“I'm so happy to see you,” he said once he'd pulled away, feathering his touch across your waist, settling his hands in the crook just under your breasts, stroking the bottom of them with his thumbs. You were suddenly glad the man's hands were so large, sure that this one interaction was heaven on earth. 
He almost distracted you from your purpose for coming here. 
Pulling you to the sofa in his living room, Spencer pushed back a strand of hair, hooking it behind your ear as he let you straddle him  wrapping your arms around his neck, your head falling comfortably onto his shoulder as you inhaled his scent. 
“I'm not complaining that you're here, or anything, Y/N,” he said, hands roaming your body and stroking your ass as he spoke. “But did you have something to say? You didn't message before coming.” 
You lifted your head to look him in the eyes before looking away out of embarrassment. 
“Earlier, you…” you started, tongue going dry as he tightened his grip on your ass. He shifted slightly under you and you realized he was grinding his leg up into your clothed pussy as you spoke. 
“Yes?” 
“Your phone…the locked folder, I want to see what's inside.” 
You were sure that he knew already what you wanted before you'd even arrived, but he just smiled at you again, almost too kindly. 
“That's my private business, Y/N. Why should I let you see it?” He asked, looking good a finger under your jaw to make you look him in the eye once more. 
“I th-think… I think there are videos. Of me. I'd like to see them.” 
“Where are your manners?” 
“Please, sir,” you whispered, tipping your head forward, begging him for a kiss. “Please show me the videos.” 
He huffed out a quick laugh and gave you one last peck on the lips before he pushed you off. You sat on the floor between his legs, a position you were so used to being in by now that you wouldn't be surprised to find multiple shots of you sat like this, lips wrapped around his cock, pussy grinding on his shoes. Even the thought of such pictures had you wanting to recreate those memories, you weren't sure what a folder worth is going to do. 
Stretching over to his coffee table, Spencer picked up the discarded phone and unlocked it, flipping through some pages before looking down at you again. 
Stroking your hair, Spencer neatly arranged it before wrapping the same hand he'd been using g around your neck and pulling you gently upwards. You landed back in his lap, but he'd turned you around this time. Instead of straddling him, your back was pressed to his chest, your legs on either side of one of his. He released your neck, instead pushing his hands between your thighs so you couldn't push them together for relief - he already knew your body so well. 
“Is this what you're curious about, Y/N?” He said, finally flashing you the phone screen. The first picture was obviously taken post-sex, and you recognised his bed sheets quickly. Your face hung off the end of his bed, eyes shut as his cum painted your lips, cheeks and eyes, lips parted in a lusty moan. From the angle it was taken at, you could see your breasts swell and your hand disappear between your legs as well, stroking yourself to release.
“Shit,” you moaned, pussy clenching on nothing as it begged for relief. With a hand on your hip, Spencer started encouraging you to rock back and forward, humping his leg as he whispered in your ear. 
“You didn't know about that one because your eyes were covered in my cum. It turned me on more knowing you had no clue I was going to jack off to it later as well.” 
He scrolled to the next image, and in this one too, you seemed unaware of the camera. Your hands were tied to the headboard, and he was fucking you from behind, the shot capturing his creamy dick pulling out of you and the discarded condom on the bed beside you. 
“That was the day we learned how much more you enjoyed being filled with cum than you enjoyed condoms,” he said, scrolling to the next picture. 
“And here's your first creampie,” he said, his spare hand pushing under your shirt, fingers clamping down on one nipple as you shuddered. 
Your pace was faster now, desperately thrusting up and down his thigh. Even through your skirt and panties, you felt your wetness against his pants, knowing you'd be punished later for such unladylike behaviour. 
As if Spencer had ever wanted you to act like a lady. He knew you were a slut and he enjoyed it. 
“The next one is a video,” he said, moving his hand to your other breast and slapping it as you moaned above him. “Do you think you can handle it?” 
“Y-Yes, Sir. Please let me see it, sir.” 
“Okay, but not a fucking noise out of you. I want to hear your screams from the video.” 
You could only silently groan in reply, nodding quickly as he scrolled and pressed play. 
This one was recent, maybe one or two nights ago. You recognised the outfit you'd partially discarded, the shirt that had been ripped open. 
How had you possibly not seen the camera pointed straight at you? 
In the video, his cock was pressed into you, fucking you at a pace most would call violent  but you called heavenly. The focus wasn't on your pussy taking his cock, though, but on your boobs, recoiling and jumping with every thrust. His other hand pressed to your stomach, feeling himself sheathed there, as you moaned desperately. 
“Spen…Spen-sher,” you tripped over your tongue, slurring the words as if you'd been drugged. Your eyelids were heavy, eyes practically rolling back in your head as his hand on your stomach tightened. 
“I think I fucked your brain out, baby,” he laughed deeply, cock not relenting even one second. 
“Your tits looked so perfect,” the Spencer of the present said, pressing the phone into your hand as he grabbed each nipple and tugged them forward, leaving you gasping. 
“And you didn't even realize I was filming it all. I could've done anything to you, anything at all, and you wouldn't have cared. You'd have enjoyed it, and I'd have had the proof.” 
You were soaked now, humping deliriously against his thigh, like a puppy experiencing their first heat, desperate for this feeling to go away and for it to stay and intensify all the same. 
“You were acting so stupid. At one point, I even got you to say hello to the camera, and you didn't remember a thing an hour later.” 
Releasing one breast, he swiped one more time to the left, and you saw the beginning of another video. 
Hitting the play button, his hands returned to your chest, this time pushing up your top and bra and freely clamping down on the nipples as hard as he could. 
What intrigued you the most about this last video was the start. Unlike the pictures and the videos, you weren't in the middle of sex at the beginning of this video at all. 
You were instead laid with your back to the camera - to Spencer - a leg thrown over some unfamiliar sheets. This wasn't his bed. This wasn't yours either. 
Another minute of grinding against his leg, and you recognised the motel room from your last case. 
“Spencer, wh-” 
“Watch and see, princess.” 
The bed creaked under his weight as he climbed in behind you, removing the duvet covers from your body, replacing it with his hands. He made similarly swift work of your pajamas, only bothering to push them down to your knees before pulling out his cock and slowly pushing into you. 
If you weren't so close to another orgasm, you'd probably be shocked that Spencer had invaded your personal space and started fucking you as you slept. But that's what it meant to be his little free use slut. You allowed him access to you anywhere, anytime (including the motel room you'd given him the spare key for) and in return he dropped as many loads of his cum into your pussy as would fit there. 
Watching yourself get violated in your sleep was the last of what you needed to push over the edge. 
You grabbed Spencer's arm, gasping, and you felt him trail kisses along your neck and shoulders. 
“That's it, baby, just hold on a second while I…” he pulled the phone out of your grasp, opening yet another familiar looking app. 
You looked at the screen and found your own bare chest heaving staring back at you. He clicked the red button and forced it back into your hands as he began abusing your tits again. 
“Show the camera, Y/N. Show them how you get yourself off on my leg.” 
You complied, lifting the phone slightly to get the best view of your chest, heaving up and down as you humped his thigh into oblivion. 
Your cunt twitched and you felt fluids rushing out of you, even as your arms trembled. But you didn't let them falter  holding g up the phone to capture every second of your climax, knowing its exactly what he would want. 
“You're perfect, you know that Y/N,” he said, finally kissing the top of your head and pulling the phone out of your grasp as he saved the video into the file you'd been browsing. 
His gentleness was short-lived, though, as he pushed you off his lap and back to the floor. As you caught your breath, ass up on the floor, he took the opportunity to slip his dick out of his pants, and began stroking it up and down, inspecting your pussy with his free fingers. 
“I'll give you five seconds to get ready for the next round,” he said, and you panicked, lifting your legs off the floor. You weren't strong enough, though, or maybe you just didn't want to move. He kept counting down. 
“4….3….2…1,” you heard the predatory grin in his voice as he pushed his foot onto your head, holding your cheek to the floor with one leg. 
“As you wish then, my little slut.” He moved his foot away quickly and pushed inside of you, and your last coherent thought was of the folder again, and how long he'd make you wait to see the video you were about to shoot. 
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sold2vlaykz · 26 days ago
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I love you more than you do.
(Yandere Millionare E/Ex X FEM! reader!)
Prompt: Your older E/Ex bf can not get over you, has not and tonight he’s come back to claim you as his!)
Warning!! Mild angst, stalking, CNC kiss, towel nudity mentioned, loser reader!, word pretty mentioned, older male yandere.
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It was late, you usually did things like this. Stayed up all night despite having school/work tomorrow, you’d spend hours on social media, discord, just because you had nothing better to do with your life.
Your relationship with your family was backwards, sometimes they loved you next they did not.
He hated seeing you sad, the tears rolling down your face as they belittled you. Belittled his sweet little girl.
He wanted to kill them, rip their throats out.
But he couldn’t because he knew it’d hurt you, despite the luxury of a life he could’ve given you after he knew that your pure heart wouldn’t have accepted it.
“I fucking hate this shit.”
You cursed at yourself, arguing with some nobody online while he watched you from your window a gift in hand.
Of course he could’ve watched you from the cameras but it was never better than the real thing.
Of course he’d deal with who you were arguing with later, whoever it was, was soon to be dead on a platter.
But tonight was all about you.
Tonight was the night, the night you’d see him.
You stood up, closing your phone before rubbing your temples and heading to the bathroom. He stood there for a second, waiting maybe a minute or five before he heard the shower water begin to run.
He climbed up the rails into your bedroom window , being quick to hide himself away in a closet.
Your family was away, everyone had something better to do than to be in the house with you.
The smell of you surrounded the room, he’s ashamed to say but it made him horny. He’s only ever been this close to put the cameras in or steal things.
Minutes flew by and there you were. Standing in all your glory in a towel.
Before you dropped it he stepped out, your eyes went wide in surprise as a scream left your lips. It wasn’t long before he covered your mouth with his gloved hand.
He pressed his gun to your back, a smile crept to his face as you trembled.
“Another word and I’ll blow your shit straight off.”
He was lying through his teeth, he couldn’t kill you. God he’d rather kill himself but hey you didn’t know that.
You nodded quickly, his hand slowly moving away from you.
He picked you up and placed you on your bed, careful not to drop the towel. His hands traced your face, then your towel slowly unraveling it.
He didn’t want to fuck you, well not without your consent at least.
You began to cry, whimpers leaving your lips thinking that your dignity was about to be ripped away.
“No, shh. I’m not gonna’ do anything. Just wanna’ feel you.”
His voice was deep, rolled of the tongue so effortlessly.
His hands went down to your stomach, squeezing the skin just to get a feel, cupping your breast gentle, rubbing your thighs. With each move a whimper left his lips, as if he was getting off on just rubbing you.
“Who are you?”
Your voice was cracked and shaky, almost a whisper despite no one being home.
“I’m your husband.”
He spoke blankly, your eyes widened at the golden ring on his finger. You were confused, maybe this was all just a bad dream. None of it made sense.
Well at least not to you, to him you were married. He got your parent’s signature on a contract not too long ago, they were all drunk after a party and stupidly signed a paper not knowing what it was.
Now you were his, all nude and pretty. Sitting there just for him.
He opened your laptop, immediately faced with the discord screening.
He grabbed your hand before pulling you softly towards him, sitting in a chair while pushing you into his lap.
“Won’t be needing this anymore”
You watched him factory reset your whole computer, everything erased. Your whole lonely loser life, crushed.
You didn’t want to seem phased despite the shake in your bones. He looked up at you, looking you in your eyes as if waiting for a response.
“Why are you doing this.”
You heard him groan at your question, before snatching your phone from in the desk. He clicked on your messages before going to the deleted.
“Mm, baby you really don’t remember me?”
He went on a number that was at the very bottom of the list, before recovering all that was gone.
With you on his lap and one hand on your thigh he began to scroll, thousands of messages from almost three years ago. By the looks of it, he was some guy you used to E-date. Until you inevitably blocked him because of the age difference between you two, the jealousy, and possessiveness-despite how much he evidently cared for you.
“All of this, and then you left me.”
His grip tightened, jaw clenched.
The balls to come here without a mask, knowing he wouldn’t have got caught. His gun on the opposite side of you, he just kept staring at it.
“But I forgive you, you couldn’t have done it on purpose.”
A lie he told himself, he began to dig into his pocket. Whatever it was had a circular shape. And god you hoped it wasn’t what you thought it was. In the midst of all his shuffling he pulled out a ring.
As much as you hated to say it, it was beautiful.
Covered in diamonds with a ruby in the middle, gold decorating the rims.
“I remember how you said you loved the color red, despite it being a last ditch effort to have a favorite color like everyone else did.”
Considerate, despite the breaking and entering, the threats, the gun. He already had the contract, all he needed was your finger.
His eyes stared like daggers into yours, gray stubble decorating his clean cut facial hair.
“Marry me. Just like we promised all those years ago.”
You could tell it wasn’t a question, it’s either you said yes or you thought he’d blow your fucking head off. When in reality if you said no he would’ve just stalked and harassed you until you had no choice but to say yes. Or kidnapped you-
“Do I have to?”
He froze, nails practically digging in your skin through the gloves.
He picked up the gun before pressing it to the side of your ribcage.
“Do you?”
Is all he said his voice a low growl. A soft yes left your lips, and all was subsided. A smile grew wide on his face from ear to ear as if he didn’t have a gun to you.
“I knew you loved me.”
He placed a kiss on your neck, eyes full of absolute joy. He put the gun down and grabbed your face, facing you toward him. Devilishly handsome with the mind of a psychopath.
“Do you know how much I’ve done to get here, from killing your boyfriend, murdering your teacher, even killed that celebrity you were obsessed with. Just to have you now sitting in my lap with a ring on both of our fingers.”
He kept covering you in soft kisses, you on the other hand trying hard to ignore the bulge in his pants.
“I’m sorry, it’s just your so pretty angel.”
Angel, that name ran through your mind like alarms. The day it fell down when he hacked your account and deleted every man from your phone.
“I’m sorry angel I just don’t know what got into me.”
You knew you were going to have passion marks, didn’t know how you were going to explain them to your parents.
“I love you.”
He kissed your lips, he stood up with you in his arms and placed on you the bed. Lips not daring to leave yours.
“Stop-” you mumbled out.
His eyes dropped, sadness filled them.
“It’s me sweetheart, your husband. All those times we said we wanted nothing more but to hold eachother.”
His hands made their way around your back and pulled you closer.
Nose to his area, making the size difference evident.
He grabbed your chin and tilted your head up.
“You can’t run from me, even now if you call the police they won’t catch me and we’ll end up right here.”
He began kissing your neck softly once again, each kiss deepened. He dragged a moan from you despite you wanting to not enjoy it, he knew how to make you feel good.
“Does that feel good baby?”
He knew it did, you could hear his chuckling under your moans, under his slyness.
“We don’t gotta’ do anything. Just wanna’ kiss you.”
He brought his mouth back to your lips, and sadly. You kissed him back, God. You felt his hard on grow the more you kissed him, his loud moans and whimpering just by your subtle touch.
“Say it, say you love me.”
He stopped and looked at you with desperate eyes, despite what he’s done you know how much he’s done for you. The money he sent, the gifts he bought, the reassurance and pure love he gave.
“I love you.”
-“mm fuck.”
God he was getting off by just your words, he turned around and covered his face with his hand. Trying his hardest not to touch himself to your voice like he used to.
“I fucking love you, you don’t know what you do to me.”
He groaned before coming back towards you, innocently kneeling and putting his head in your lap like a lost puppy dog.
Covering your thighs in soft kisses. He dug into his other pocket before pulling out another ring more expensive than the already pricey one.
“I almost forgot, that one was for engagement.”
And you knew, you were in for a hell of a ride.
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egglain · 2 months ago
Text
Letters to Santa
Rating: E (18+) - mdni Pairing: Nanami x GN! reader Content: dickcember day 4 - sexting, at work, desire
if there’s a prompt + character you want to see next, requests are open! send an ask :)
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Nanami Kento was a hard worker.
He always clocked in on time, took his lunch at the same time, left his desk right as the clock hit 5.
Which is why this could not happen.
Mouth full of rice– part of the pretty bento you had packed him that morning– he had opened his phone for the first time this shift. 3 unopened message badges lit up his screen. This was always his favourite time of day; the moment he gets to hear your thoughts, to wish you a good lunch.
On his screen, at full brightness, he opened his text app.
hi <3
[1 image attached]
hope u like :) see u soon!
Nanami Kento was a hard worker.
As in– his cock had never been harder at work.
Fuck.
Thick, strong fingers typed a speedy response as white teeth worried the inside of his cheek.
Darling.
Fuck.
***
Taking a bite of your sandwich, you couldn’t help but grin at Nanami’s curt response.
Your handsome husband was perfect in every way– attentive, thoughtful, competent. The only downside? He was uptight. As fuck.
So to swear?
And at work, nonetheless?
You wish you could see him now– even if it was just as a fly on the wall.
yes, kento? <3
You finished your sandwich, calm as ever. You could witness him squirm all day without batting an eyelash– he was so easy to tease.
Five minutes passed; you put away your lunch, settling back in your rolling chair as you scrolled mindlessly on your phone.
Your lock screen lit up with a notification from Hubby <3.
[1 image attached]
Nanami Kento– your gorgeous, composed, responsible husband– was a nasty little freak.
The photo was taken from above, angled downwards in an industrial grey bathroom stall. A spotted tie was trapped between pearly teeth, chiselled jaw working the fabric. A brown leather belt hung open, khaki pressed chinos unzipped and pushed down blonde-dusted thighs.
Look what you did.
Nanami’s veiny left hand wrapped around the shaft of a pretty cock. Blonde dusted his abdomen, trimmed neatly to frame his pale, girthy base. 
Fix this.
Now.
Those eyes bore into yours through the screen. He wouldn’t take no for an answer; not when he was like this.
As much as you wanted relief yourself, you knew better than to scurry off to a bathroom stall. Nanami Kento was like a bloodhound; he always knew when you had satisfied yourself (in his words). He did not take kindly to the idea, much preferring to have you unravel on his fingers, tongue, or cock.
This was a test, of sorts– if you could stay strong, get through the day being good, your reward would be so much sweeter than any half-assed release you got from your left hand now.
so needy <3
As much as he played the role of a put-together, dominant husband, Nanami Kento flustered so beautifully under your subtle teasing.
[0:14]
A voice note popped up on your screen. Fumbling for your earbuds and triple checking they connected, you hit play.
Through heavy breaths, soft grunts punctuated the rustling of what you presumed to be his arm– if the soft plaps were anything to go by.
aww,,, touching yourself, bby? 
at work? 
u just wanna get found
Somewhere across the city, a very red Nanami Kento fucked his fist harder.
[0:32]
This time, it was a video.
The breaths were louder. It was taken low, clearly filmed using his thighs to steady the camera. The dull, blushed head of his dick was slicked beautifully; clear precum welled up at his tip as that big hand fisted his cock. Long fingers spanned his length, stroking his many inches from base to tip. As he reached the head, strong digits squeezed, wringing out his precum and running the pad of a thumb through the mess. 
He looked utterly edible.
just like that, bby
keep goin for me
You grinned, taking a peek around your cubicle to ensure you were alone. Most of your coworkers were long gone for lunch, so there wasn’t much danger, though it was a very public space.
Still, you couldn’t help unbuttoning the top of your shirt, snapping a sneaky picture of your chest.
[sent: 1 image]
need u bby <3
waiting so good 4 u rn
You had no idea just how much you affected your composed husband.
Fuck
Dotn say that shit
A typo AND two swear words? Oh, he was fucked up.
Seconds later, it loaded.
[1 image attached]
A shaky photo, taken from above just like the first. His pretty cock stood angry against his abdomen, red from tip to base. Veins strained against his thin skin, dick so beautifully swollen. A sinful bead of his thick seed drooped heavy, mid-roll down his shaft. The ropes of his release sullied his hands, connecting those thick fingers with pearlescent strings.
You wanted to put your mouth on it.
need u so bad kento.
A beat.
Yeah? Wet at work, darling?
Naughty as fuck, sending me lewd pictures like that. What if Higuruma had seen?
I’m sure you’d like that, wouldn’t you, slut?
No touching yourself.
You’ll cum enough tonight.
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banners by @strangergraphics!
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1pepsiboy · 9 months ago
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Car video with Matt Sturniolo - Fluff! (request)
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Matt Sturniolo x reader!
Word count: 1.1K
Warnings: swearing, a little kissing
A/N: This one got away from me and I had to reign it back in because it's not supposed to be smutty lmaooo But here it is!
***
It’s close to midnight as Matt parks the van in a random spot at the favorite lot. The two of you got fries, chicken nuggets with sweet n’ sour sauce (mostly for him), and a large milkshake to share. You plan to do a car video to post on his individual channel.
You have no idea what you were going to talk about. Matt had fans submit their own questions for you two to answer.
After setting up the camera, which included Matt going out to check it, you start recording and picking at the food.
Matt starts the video off. "Hey everyone, (y/n) and I are here. Uhm... basically we're going to do our own car video without Nick and Chris. We don't really have a topic, but you guys submitted questions on instagram. Babe, have anything to start us off?"
Now, he looks at you as you’re mid fry. You chew quickly as possible, wiping your hands on a napkin, as he giggles under his breath.
"Thanks for the warning," you remark with a laugh. "Uhm, not really... I'm just here for the vibes."
"For the vibes?" Matt crooks a brow and looks you up and down. Then he takes a nugget and dips in the sauce.
You roll your eyes. "Don't yuck my yum."
Matt stuffs the nugget in his mouth. "Okay, Chris."
All you do is flip him off and take a sip of the milkshake.
"Just ask the questions."
"Okay, okay." He laughs as he readjusts in his seat after grabbing his phone. It's quiet for a couple minutes while he gathers them. "Oh, let's start with this one. What's our favorite thing about each other?"
"Well-"
"Oh, quick disclaimer, sorry babe." Matt shoots you a nervous smile. "I will edit screenshots of the questions onto the screen so you can see who they're from. And uh.. if you'd like to get featured in videos, follow us on instagram to see the next time I ask for questions. I'll put the @s on the screen and in the description below."
You slowly chew on your straw after taking another sip, patiently waiting for him to be done. It's already been fifteen minutes and you are almost positive Matt forgot the extra battery pack. Granted, you could've asked Nick where it was and brought it; too late.
"Okay, what were you going to say?" Matt prompts.
You think about making another snarky remark in how it'd been so long since he asked the question that you don't remember it.
Tapping the straw on your pursed lips, you pretend to think. "Well... I have many favorite things so it's an unfair question."
Matt lightly rolls his eyes. "Look, I know you love everything about me, but what's your favorite?"
"Oh, everything?" You laugh. "You think so highly of yourself, don't you, Matty B? Let's go the different route then." You look directly into the camera. "Guys, this kid will not accept anything sort of unorganized or clean. Not for more than five minutes if he can help it."
Matt's jaw drops and he snatches the cup out of your hand. "Your least favorite thing is how organized I am?"
"Yeah, live a little! You won't die if there's like a wrapper or two on your desk, or if the toothbrush isn't in the holder."
"You are an absolute monster, (y/n)!" Matt cracks. He points between you and the camera. "Don't believe a single word she says. She leaves more than a wrapper or two, and her skincare is all over my bathroom counter after she does her morning routine."
You shrug. "I don't see a problem with that, and I don't think the fans will either."
"Guys, leave a comment if you're more like me or (y/n)." He barely scoffs under his breath, eating another fry. "You're lucky you have other amazing qualities that I overlook the messiness."
Now, you couldn't help blushing. “Such as?”
Matt shakes his head, a smile spreading on his lips. “You’re understanding about a lot going on, you know, like the channels, life, and stuff. So it’s easy to talk to you about it, like if I’m ever anxious or something.”
“Top fucking notch quality right there,” you say. “Anything else? I love the praise.”
“I thought this was reserved for in private, babe.”
Your eyes go wide and you almost spit out the fry you just put in your mouth. “Matthew! Stop!”
Matt giggles under his breath. “Sorry. Uhm… You can rock a men’s polo and make the best playlists for me… Obviously you have such a vibrant personality.” 
“That I do.” You nod in agreement. You reach out to brush back some of his hair, causing some pinkness to rouge on his cheeks. “I love how cautious you are about decisions, keeps me from letting impulsive thoughts win.”
“Which is a lot,” he shoots a look at the camera.
You can only roll your eyes in response. “Anyway… You’re the most caring person I know that will drop anything to help someone you love. The only time you won’t ask a lot of questions… Oh! You’re actually the best big spoon ever.”
He bites his bottom lip, failing to hold back a cheesy grin. “Really, babe?”
“Absolutely.” 
You close the space between you, and Matt instinctively rests his hand in the crook of your neck. You crawl over the center console onto his lap when you realize it wouldn’t be just a few kisses.
Time gets away and you sort of forget that you are filming. Your hands roam each other’s bodies over and under clothes. Both of you leave butterfly kisses on the other’s neck.
The lights in the van suddenly dim away.
“Shit. Fuck,” Matt says, his lips pink from yours and hair tousled more than usual. “I think the camera died.”
“And we technically only answered one question.” You bite your lip with a laugh. 
He laughs with you, running a hand through his hair. He lays back and looks you in the eyes. “I should’ve known not to start with that question.”
“Should we try doing this again on a different night?”
Matt sighs heavily. “Probably… It would suck to scrap all the footage though.”
A smirk rises on your lips as you move back to the passenger seat. “You want to include clips of us making out?”
“Obviously no.” He rolls his eyes. 
“Let’s just keep going then. Use my phone to record.”
Matt kisses the crook of your neck. “You’re the best, babe.”
You shoot him a look. “Be careful, Matthew.”
“Sorry, sorry.” He throws his hands up in defense. (He really wasn’t that sorry.)
*You can request others from this list or send me new ones!*
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muffinpink02 · 4 months ago
Note
Alexia with the new Cupra picture is giving me ✨sugar mommy who spoils you in every way✨ vibes
(fic?)
Spoilt Princess
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Thank you for the prompt anon!
Warning - smut 18
“How does it look, amor?” 
You fixed your hair in the changing room mirror, trying on the 100th dress of the day.
“Good, I like it.” You smoothed down the edges of the short red dress. 
“Show me, princesà.” 
You smiled at the nickname. Alexia did well and truly treat you like a princess. The Spainard loved to spoil you. Just like she was doing now, she’d spoil you on any occasion she could. From buying you the newest pair of Nikes, to flying you abroad to a five star resort. The girl never let you go without. If you wanted it, you had it. You wasn’t a brat about it, well, sometimes, but Alexia would fuck that out of you very quickly. 
You pulled the thick curtain open, Alexia was sitting in the plush velvet chair in the corner of the private fitting room. A number of high end branded shopping bags sat at her feet, the majority of them being yours. All purchased by Alexia, of course. 
You couldn’t stop the shy smile that pulled at the corners of your mouth as you watched her piercing hazel eyes snake down your body. 
“Do you like it?” You asked.
It was a pointless question really, of course Alexia liked it, she was the one that picked it out. The short dress showed off all her favourite parts of you. From the swell of your breast, to the firmness of your thighs and to the most important, the curve of your arse. Her most favourite part.
“Turn around, let me see you.” The Spaniard commanded.
You smiled as you turned around for the blonde, making sure to wiggle your arse as you did. 
Alexia bit her bottom lip as she took you in, you looked good, she loved you in anything red and this dress was doing wonders. It fit you like a glove, like it had been especially made for you. That being said, you had countless dresses that she had got especially tailored for you, but it never hurt to have more. 
“I love it, amor.” She smiled a genuine smile at you. 
“Let’s add it to the pile.” You winked.
“Sí. Did you want anything else? What about those heels you were looking at or those earrings you spoke about?”
“No, I think you’ve spoiled me enough today, Ale.” You chuckled softly. 
She tutted, her calm face scrunched into a cute frown. 
“It’s not true. I’ve hardly got you anything. And they would look good with this dress, no?”
You smiled at her little pout. It wasnt a secret that Alexia loved fucking you in heels, it was her thing. Something you had worked out very quickly into your relationship, the girl would always leave the item of clothing last when stripping you. Sometimes never taking them off at all.
You walked over to the blonde, shaking your head as you laughed at her pout. You bent down between her already spread legs, holding onto her thighs for balance. Her eyes followed you, dropping to the now very revealing angle of your cleavage.
“Ale, baby you’ve got me a lot today.” 
The blonde rolled her eyes, she cupped your chin with her hands, tilting your head higher. 
“But I haven't, cariño. It's been a while since I got to spoil you.”
That was a lie, she had only bought you a new camera last week, just because you said you were thinking of doing a photography class. And she didn't go cheap, she bought you a camera that even the most professional photographer would envy. 
“Ale, baby, you know I don’t need it.” 
She kept her hand on your chin, she moved closer to you, her lips now inches from yours.
“But I want you to have them. At least pick one.” She whispered softly against your lips. 
You felt your body tingle from the simple gesture, and other things may have tingled.
“Hmm, the heels.” You smiled widely. You moved forward, closing the gap between you. “Thank you.”
Alexia hummed against your lips, inhaling as she felt your tongue glide against her lips.
You pulled back, winking at her as you stood up from the familiar position. You looked at yourself in the mirror, looking over your shoulder.
“I guess you're right, they were really nice.” You smiled in the mirror.
“Sí, they will. They will go with most of your dresses.” The blonde nodded.
“Hmm, or nothing at all.” You looked over at the girl whose cheeks turned a shade of pink.
“Sí, or nothing at all.” She chuckled softly at you. She stood up from her chair, you watched her in the mirror as she approached you from behind, she put her two large hands around your waist, pulling you into her front. She laid her chin on your shoulder, locking her eyes with yours in the reflection.
“But, I did see a red lace set that would really suit you.”
—-----------
“Princesà? Are you ready?” Alexia called in from the ensuite. 
You gloss your lips, finishing off the last touches to your make up in the floor length mirror. You were getting ready for your date night, you had been looking forward to this day for a while, Alexia had somehow gotten a table at a very exclusive and very expensive restaurant. 
“Nearly.” You sang out. 
She walked into the bedroom where you stood, she smiled when she spotted her new favourite red dress hugging your body. She slowly walked over to you, her eyes fixed on your arse.
“You look beautiful, mí amor.” She pressed her lips against your bare shoulder, making your skin prickle with goosebumps. 
“You look beautiful, baby.” You smiled at her reflection in the mirror. 
The blonde looked good, she looked like she was ready to command a room full of businessmen. She was fitted in a grey two piece that showed off her muscular arms. Her blonde hair fell down her back, with her silver hoop earrings hanging off her ears. 
“Gràcies, cariño.” 
You picked up your silver necklace that Alexia had purchased for you a little while back. It was a simple piece but you loved it, you wore it everywhere. It had her initial attached to it, making you feel like she was always with you.
“Here, let me.” Alexia moved your hair out of the way and clipped the jewellery around your neck.
“Perfect.” 
“Nearly perfect. I have something for you.” 
She stepped back from you, a mischievous glint sparkled in her beautiful hazel eyes.
“Alexia! Baby, what could you have possibly gotten me?” 
She ducked under the bed, grabbing out a small white box. Alexia opened the lid revealing the eye watering priced earrings you had been eyeing up.
“Oh my god! You got them for me? How? When?” Your mouth gaped open in shock.
“I made a call. It wasn’t hard. They were delivered when you were in the shower.” She shrugged.
You jumped up and down like a kid on Christmas, giddy at the thought of Alexia getting you yet another present.
She watched as you put your new earrings on.
“Sit, I’ll help you put your heels on.” 
You did as she said, sitting on the end of your shared bed. Alexia kneeled at your feet, holding your ankle as she placed your feet into the strappy heels. You really were her little princess, she made you feel like a real life Cinderella. She slotted the straps into the holes with the most gentle touch. 
“Thank you, baby.” 
She gave your bare leg a kiss, then another then another, slowly moving up to your thighs. Her mouth melted when she smelt the vanilla scented cream on your skin. 
“Ale.” You shakily breathed out. 
“Hmm.” She didn’t bother looking up at you, too distracted at your buttery skin. 
“Baby, we’ll be late.” You tried to convince her, but you couldn’t even convince yourself. 
“Just a little taste, please amor.” She begged as she already started to push your dress up, revealing your new red laced thongs. 
You could never say no to Alexia, especially when she was literally begging at your feet, but you knew you were already running late for your reservation. Your eyes closed as her lips started to kiss your lips through your underwear, her warm breath making your legs open more for her. You felt yourself melting for her, wanting so badly to just let her take you, have her way with you, but that fucking table.
She gently pulled your underwear to the side, revealing your sex. 
“Tan bonica.” She husked before swiping her tongue through your folds.
“Fuck.” You gasped, you had to hold yourself back from pulling at her hair, you didn't have time for her to fix it again.
She took another slow swipe, running her tongue gently against your folds. You groaned at the electric sparks it sent through your muscles, your body already feeling like it was on fire from her expert touches. 
You knew if you didn't stop her now you wouldn't make it out of here tonight, let alone on time for the table.
“Baby, we got to go- fuck!”
Alexia had made it just that bit harder to leave as she wrapped her lips around your clit, sucking your sensitive bud with a precise precision.
Your head tilted back as she suckled on you, you bit your lip trying your hardest to force yourself to stop her. You looked down at the blonde between your legs, she was in her own world of pleasure. You let out a loud sigh, knowing you had to stop, even though you really, really didn't want to.
“Ale, come we have to go.” You groaned at your own words.
Her hazel eyes finally looked up at you, you could see the hesitation in her eyes, she clearly didn't want to stop. She groaned in annoyance, she gave you one last lick before she pulled herself away. 
“I regret booking this now.” She mumbled between your legs.
You let out a breathless chuckle. “So do I. But once we’re done we can pick up where we left off. We can even try that new thing you want to do.” 
Her eyes lit up at that. “Really?” 
You nodded, smiling wickedly at the blonde.
Alexia stood up, picking up your red thongs that were crumpled on the floor.
“I’m keeping a hold of these.” She tucked them into her loose pocket, smiling cheekily at you.
—------------
“Gràcies.” Alexia smiled, placing her card on the receipt tray.
The evening had been amazing, the food was delicious, the atmosphere was calm, the conversation had been flowing and the fingers dancing between your thighs was…mind numbing. 
Since the moment you sat down Alexia had taken advantage of the now missing barrier between your legs. Her fingers had been relentless, skating up, down and around your ever growing sensitive lips. 
“Alexia.” You whispered, you didn’t once tell her to stop, you didn't want her to. She felt so fucking good.
She had you nearly screaming out in the busy restaurant as her talented fingers circled your swollen clit, she smirked wickedly at you when she felt your essence dripping onto her fingers. 
She didn't think to stop when the waiter came over. 
“Would you like to see the dessert menu?” The waiter asked.
“No!” You choked out a shout. The waiter looked between you and Alexia, a little confused from the outburst. You eyed the blonde, who kept that calm stupid smile on her face. 
“Erm, sorry no.” You cleared your throat. “Just the bill please.” You forced a smile, trying your hardest to hold down the filthy groan that wanted so desperately to escape your throat.
Once Alexia paid the bill you couldn't get out of the place quick enough. 
—------------
You waited outside the restaurant as a bell boy brought your car to the front. 
The teen boy smiled as he passed over Alexia’s car keys. “Nice car by the way.” 
“Gràcies.” Alexia smiled politely, slipping the boy a tip. She nodded her head eyeing the vehicle. “She's a beauty.” She agreed.
It was her new car, her pride and joy. You weren't into cars, you just about knew the different names, but you could appreciate a nice car when you saw one. It was sleek and smart, and Alexia looked fucking good in the drivers seat. 
She opened the passenger side door for you, smacking your bum as you climbed into the leather seat. 
“Oi!” You laughed as the blonde playfully winked at you. You watched as she waved at the bellboy, before jumping into the driver's side.
Finally, you were on your way home and you couldn't ignore the way your body was thrumming with desire for the blonde next to you. You was dizzy, dizzy with the thought of Alexia fucking you with her big strap. Fucking you until your legs were shaking and your eyes were rolling into the back of your head, stuttering your words as her hips bucked between your thighs. Making you scream her name-
“Everything okay, amor? You seem a little distracted.” She hummed as she looked over at you, that same smug smile on her face.
You closed your eyes, taking in a deep breath and letting out a long sigh. You could feel your cunt aching, verging on almost painful. 
“You could say that.” You looked out the window, praying all the lights stayed green.
Alexia let out a loud laugh, the laugh that you loved. You looked over at her, her beautiful smile plastered her face. 
It only made you want her more. 
You unbuckle your seatbelt, leaning over so you could easily access Alexia's neck. 
“Amor, I’m driving.” Her breath hitched as she felt your tongue glide against her skin.
“I can stop if you want?” You said it as you kissed behind her ear.
“No.” She smirked.
You hummed, smiling as you gently bit her favourite sweet spot. “Thoughts so.” You whispered in her ear, bitting a little harder at the soft skin, causing the Spaniard to let out a small gasp.
You kissed down her neck, moving to her throat. You gently sucked on the vein that you loved, lapping your tongue over the ridge of her skin, you lightly hummed as you felt it beat under your touch. 
You brought your right hand to her trousers, easily slipping past the loose band.
“This is not fair.” She looked down between her legs, her breathing quickening as she felt your fingers stroke at her thighs.
You gave out your own smug smile when you felt her hips rock up into your touch. 
“I just want to taste.” You whispered, repeating the same words she had said to you.
“W-what? Now?” 
You nodded your head, bringing your lips between your teeth. 
“Right now. Pull your trousers down for me.”
“God, you can make me do anything, can't you princess?”
You let out a low chuckle, your fingers still teasing at her lips.
She finally stopped at a red light. You couldn't stop the smirk on your face as she clumsily tried to pull her trousers down for you.
“Here baby, let me help. Lift your hips up.” You purred.
Alexia did as you asked, so you were able to slide her loose trousers and thongs down to the top of her knees. 
You smiled as you spotted the wet patch. “Is someone a bit wet?”
“How could I not be? You were so good for me in the restaurant, letting me play with you.” She stroked your loose hair back as she moved forward, connecting your lips in a deep kiss, her tongue easily pushing itself into your mouth. She pulled back, smiling devilishly at you.
“My good girl.” She whispered against your lips.
You pushed your hair to one side and moved forward, leaning your head down between Alexia’s spread legs. You connect your lips with her thighs, slowly making your way closer to her sex. The angle wasn't the most comfortable, but you needed the girl. 
“Merda. Wait, let me.” 
Alexia fiddles with something, allowing her seat to move slightly back, giving you both more room. Her free hand moved into your hair, pushing you back between her legs.
You take the hint and lick through her already wet folds.
“Shit.” She sighs, her fingers flex in your hair. 
Her mouth gaped open as she looked down at your head in her lap, she had seen you in this position plenty of times, but being out in public and easily being spotted made the situation just that little more thrilling.
You groan at her familiar taste, it instantly makes your mouth water. You go slow, moving your tongue easily though her essence, smearing her juices around with your tongue. The lights must have turned green as you feel Alexia’s body move above you, good thing the car is an automatic.
You flick your tongue across her swollen clit, her low groans spur you on, you easily wrap your lips around the bundle of nerves and gently stroke the flesh with the tip of your tongue.
“Bebé!” The blondes' lashes flutter in pleasure. 
You lifted your head, looking at the pretty pussy in front of you. Alexia was wet, you could see the leather seat underneath getting messy with hers and yours fluids. 
You shifted a little, getting yourself more comfortable. You leaned on your knees with your arse in the air. Alexia’s hips twitched, clearly wanting you back on her. 
“Amor, please.” Alexia begged. 
“I’m right here, baby.” You reassured her, kissing her dripping lips.
Alexia bit her bottom lip as she felt your breath ghost her wet sex, she was trying her hardest to control herself. Your loose hair was flowing down her thighs, tickling her sensitive skin, causing her to shiver. 
bobbing up and down as you sucked her into your warm mouth. 
The blonde was finding it hard to concentrate, all she could feel was your talented tongue swirling around her clit, drinking her in. She gently began to thrust her hips into your mouth, all while keeping her eyes on the road. 
You groaned loudly, loving the way she was slowly losing herself, you could hear her breathing becoming shallow. 
Your own clit was still throbbing, you could feel the air hitting the wetness on your lips. You would have loved to have seen yourself right now, being the princess you always was for Alexia. 
The blonde came to another red light, she took the opportunity to scoop your hair into her free hand. Having more control of your movements she forced you further down, needing more friction on her clit. She smirked as she watched your head bobbing up and down as you sucked her into your warm mouth. 
You whimpered when you felt her touch, trying to move the way she wanted you. She began to slowly fuck you face, pushing her hips harder into your face. 
“Sí, Sí, princesà. You’re so good, don’t stop, never stop.” She husked out.
You groaned at the fast movements, you could feel Alexia's clit twitching in your mouth. 
“Fuck, baby, I can’t drive and do this.” She let out a low groan.
Alexia took a quick turn down a quiet road, quickly turning off the engine. 
She pulled over just in time as her orgasm took over her body. Both her hands grip your hair, moving you to her rhythm.
“Amor. I’m going to come, don’t stop. Keep sucking.” Her head fell back against the seat, her mouth opening as she began to pant. Alexia cried out, screaming your name as her clit pulsated in your mouth.
You didn't stop, you kept your mouth on her until she rode out the final spasm. 
Alexia tried to catch her breath, as she stroked your hair back.
“I can’t believe you had me do that.” She let out a breathless chuckle. 
You stroked your tongue over her once more, kissing her clit as you moved away. You smiled smugly as you came face to face with the blonde, her hazel eyes completely blown. 
“You spoil me in every way.” You winked as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.
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rockscanfly · 2 months ago
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Noshir Dalal’s response to my prompt “Please record Charles roasting Dutch post-refinery/Eagle Flies’ death”
Please please go throw money at @noshirdalal over at his newly established cameo. He’s such a talented and dedicated artist who really brought Charles to life and I love everything about this insane five minute monologue he made in response to my joke prompt. The pathos. The catharsis.
This is the only thing I’m going to be able to think about the rest of the week. I have so many questions. Starting with, of course: What did Charles do to his father, and what were the circumstances where Charles told Dutch about it, when that’s not something even Arthur seems to know?
(image ID and audio transcript below the cut)
[Video ID: Noshir Dalal, in the voice of Charles Smith. He is performing with head and shoulders in frame, periodically looking at the camera as if to address Dutch Van der Lin. There is a stone fireplace in the background
End ID]
[begin transcript]
He’s dead.
Eagle Flies, the boy that you rallied to glorious war who died taking a bullet for the man that you called son and then abandoned, is dead.
Relax, Dutch, I’m not here to hurt you. And if I was, you really think your pistols would save you from me?
I’m—I’m here to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry I—I didn’t see it sooner. I was so caught up in Arthur and how sick he is…that I didn’t see the sickness in you.
And you are sick, Dutch. And from that sickness, there is no medicine. How else do I explain it? Your willingness to turn your back on the most loyal man you have ever known. The welcoming of a snake hissing in your ear, how desperately eager you are to hear the worst lies about the people that love you?
That man will be your ruin, Dutch. He is no Hosea. He has you desperately scrambling after a paper crown but you’re paying for it with your kingdom. You will die with nothing and no one.
I leave in the morning. Rains Falls needs my help, and I will try, try, to undo some of the damage that you have done.
But before I go I hope that you will hear me. Arthur, the man that you left to die, is angry. Angry at himself because he doesn’t understand what he’s done to make you turn away from him. And through it all he stands with you, Dutch. He can’t bring himself to do it, because he loves you like a father.
But you know what I did to my father. So just imagine what I could do to you.
[end transcript]
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redvdress · 3 months ago
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SILENT TREATMENT
A/N: since i’m still working on a request i thought i could write some silent treatment prompt and i thought hawks would fit this perfectly, if y’all like the idea i might start writing this for more characters, let me know!! btw this is for all you anons, don’t be shy and fill my inbox with requests! i might take a bit to reply but i will. soo now i let you enjoy this, pro hero hawks x implied hero and jealous reader
It all started out fine. Great, even.
You and Hawks had attended one of those Hero Association galas together—one of the usual social events that required Pro Heroes to show up, smile for the cameras, and rub elbows with their colleagues.
Hawks, being Hawks, of course, thrived at these events.
He looked sharp in his suit, his usual swagger even more noticeable as he navigated the room like it was second nature to him. You couldn’t deny how good he looked tonight, wings folded behind him, that lazy grin on his face as he effortlessly entertained the people around him.
But that was exactly the problem.
It was too effortless. Way too effortless when it came to her.
One of the most popular heroes, had been chatting with Keigo for far too long, standing a little too close. You tried not to let it bother you at first.
Really, you did.
But the longer they laughed and the more she touched his arm with her annoyingly perfect, manicured hands, the harder it became to ignore that sinking feeling in your chest. He looked so relaxed, so comfortable with her. And those wings of hers—large, radiant, and golden, ugh, it was too much.
And he just kept smiling that signature ‘Hawks smile’, the one that made you weak in the knees, but tonight? It irritated you to no end. How could he stand there looking so smug and not realize how irritated you were becoming?
Then the hero said something, and Hawks threw his head back in laughter, his wings fluttering in delight. That was it. That was the final straw.
You turned sharply on your heel and walked off, ignoring the curious glance Hawks threw your way as you disappeared into the crowd.
The silent treatment was officially in session.
By the time you got home, the irritation had boiled over. You were mad. And yeah, maybe a little jealous too. But more than that, you were frustrated. Didn’t he realize how he made you feel when he flirted like that, even if it was harmless? Didn’t he understand how it looked from your perspective? He was used to it so it wasn’t a big deal, but it wasn’t for him.
You never acted jealous before, but this time you couldn’t help it. So poor Hawks couldn’t know what he put himself into now.
You threw your bag onto the couch and stormed into the bedroom, already determined to make a point. If Hawks wanted to act oblivious, then fine. You could play that game too. You weren’t going to talk to him. Let him figure it out.
A few minutes later, you heard the door click open and the soft shuffle of boots being kicked off.
Here we go.
“Honey, I’m home!” came his usual singsong voice from the entryway, completely unaware of the brewing storm. “Man, that party was something, huh? Can you believe how many people were there? I couldn’t go five minutes without someone trying to chat me up.”
You stayed in the bedroom, not bothering to answer as you sat down on the bed, arms crossed. You weren’t going to make this easy for him.
After a pause, you heard him shuffle closer. “Uh, babe?” His voice came from the hallway, a little slower now, like he was starting to pick up on the fact that something was off. “You good?”
You didn’t respond.
Hawks peeked his head into the bedroom, his golden eyes scanning the room until they landed on you, sitting there with your arms crossed and a very deliberate expression of ‘I’m pissed’ on your face. He blinked, then a slow grin tugged at his lips as he entered the room.
“Ohhh, I see how it is,” he drawled, his voice light and teasing. He walked over to the bed, standing just close enough to be annoying but not enough to invade your personal space. “We’re doing the silent treatment thing, huh?”
You ignored him, staring straight ahead. Your lips pressed together tightly.
Hawks leaned down a little, tilting his head as he tried to meet your gaze. “Y’know, if you wanted my attention, you didn’t have to go all quiet on me. I was gonna talk to you anyway.”
Nothing.
He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Really? Not even a little response?” He straightened up, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared down at you with a smirk. “You’re killing me here, dove.”
You held firm, though it was getting harder to keep your expression neutral with him standing there like that, looking all too pleased with himself. You were determined to make him sweat it out, just a little longer.
Hawks was not deterred. In fact, he looked like he was getting a kick out of this.
“Okay, alright. I get it. You’re upset,” he said, pacing dramatically around the room, his wings fluttering a little with each step. “But I have a theory.” He paused and pointed at you, as if he’d just solved a complex case. “You’re jealous!”
He grinned like he’d just cracked the code, his eyes twinkling with mischief. You shot him a side glance, your resolve wavering, but you kept quiet.
“Ohhhh,” he drawled, flapping his wings in mock surprise. “This makes so much sense now! It’s because of h/n (i have no fantasy), isn’t it?” He dramatically placed a hand over his heart. “I mean, can you blame her? I’m a total catch. But don’t worry, you’re the one who gets to keep me.” He gave you a cheesy wink, fully aware that he was pushing it now.
You glared at him for a split second before quickly looking away, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.
“C’mon,” he said, walking up behind you. He leaned down, his arms lightly wrapping around your shoulders as his chin rested on your head. “You know she’s just a fan, right? People can’t resist my charm. Even you.”
He was insufferable. And unfortunately, also right.
You huffed but didn’t say a word, keeping your arms crossed as he leaned closer, his breath warm against your neck.
“Babe,” he whispered dramatically, drawing out the word, “are you really gonna stay mad at me? Over a little harmless conversation?”
Still, you said nothing, though you felt his hands shift to your shoulders, gently squeezing in an attempt to coax a reaction out of you.
Hawks, sensing that you weren’t breaking yet, pulled back slightly. “Alright. Desperate times call for desperate measures.”
And then, before you could react, his hands slipped under your arms and started tickling you mercilessly.
“C’mon! Say something! Admit you love me!” he teased, his fingers working rapidly as you tried—and failed—not to burst out laughing.
You squirmed, trying to push him away, but he was relentless. “Keigo, stop!” you finally squealed, laughter bubbling up as you tried to twist out of his grasp.
“Oh! You spoke!” Hawks exclaimed with mock shock, his eyes gleaming with triumph as he continued his assault. “I knew it! You can’t resist me!”
“Keigo!” you cried through laughter, finally managing to wriggle free of his grasp, breathless from laughing. You glared at him, but it wasn’t a real glare—more of an exasperated smile.
Keigo flopped down on the bed next to you, his wings splaying out as he propped himself up on one elbow, still grinning like a kid who had just won a game. “There it is,” he said smugly, “I knew I could get you to crack.”
You rolled your eyes, but the irritation had mostly melted away at this point.
“You’re an idiot.”
He smirked, shifting closer until he was right next to you, his face inches from yours. “Yeah, but I’m your idiot,” he said, his voice softening a little as he nudged you playfully.
You sighed, the last remnants of your jealousy fading as you leaned into him slightly, unable to stay mad any longer. “You seriously need to tone it down with the flirting at these events,” you muttered, giving him a halfhearted shove.
Hawks chuckled, his arm wrapping around your waist as he pulled you closer. “Flirting? Nah, that’s just me being friendly. You know I only have eyes for you.” His voice was sincere now, even though the playful tone still lingered at the edges.
You raised an eyebrow, still not entirely convinced. “Friendly?”
He grinned again, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your temple. “Okay, maybe a little flirty. But can you blame me? I’m naturally charming. It just happens.”
You let out a groan, but you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “You’re impossible.”
He leaned back, grinning as if he’d just won the most important battle of his life. “Yep. But you love me anyway.”
You sighed, giving in completely as you rested your head on his shoulder. “Unfortunately for me, I do.”
Hawks chuckled, his fingers lightly playing with a strand of your hair. “See? I knew you couldn’t stay mad at me. I’m just too lovable.”
“Mmhmm,” you murmured, the warmth of his presence chasing away the last bits of jealousy from earlier in the night.
He smirked, clearly satisfied with himself as he wrapped his wings around you, cocooning you in the soft, comforting warmth of his feathers. “Now that that’s settled… how about we grab some late-night takeout and binge-watch something? My treat, since, y’know, I’m such a great boyfriend and all.”
You couldn’t help but laugh, the weight of the earlier frustration lifting completely as you looked up at him, your eyes meeting his warm, golden gaze. “Fine. But you’re paying for everything.”
“Deal,” Hawks said, pressing another kiss to your forehead before jumping up from the bed with renewed energy. “Anything for my favorite girl.”
As you watched him dash out of the room to grab his phone, wings fluttering excitedly, you realized it was practically impossible to stay mad at him for long.
Keigo then lleaned in, giving you one of those cheeky, lopsided grins that always made your heart flutter. His eyes softened just a little as he leaned down and pressed a quick, soft kiss to your lips—one of those ‘I’m cute, and you know it’ kinds of kisses.
Pulling back just an inch, he looked you dead in the eyes with that smirk still plastered on his face and asked, “Now can you forgive me?”
You could already feel the corner of your lips twitching in amusement. His tone was so light, so sure that you’d just let him off the hook with no problem. So, naturally, you decided to mess with him a little. You put on your most serious expression, crossing your arms again and raising an eyebrow as if you were deep in thought.
After a long, dramatic pause, you shook your head slowly and said, “No.”
His face was priceless.
At first, he just blinked at you, clearly expecting you to laugh right away. When you didn’t, his brow furrowed slightly. “Wait… no?” he echoed, his wings twitching with a little nervous flutter. He wasn’t used to this—he could normally charm his way out of anything in less than five minutes, especially with you. “You mean—seriously?”
You bit your lip to keep from laughing and nodded. “Yup. Not forgiven.”
The sheer confusion that spread across his face was both hilarious and oddly endearing. Hawks scratched the back of his neck, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “But… I kissed you,” he said, as if that alone should’ve been enough to completely melt away any lingering frustration.
He gestured vaguely toward his lips, clearly struggling to figure out why his master plan wasn’t working. “I gave you the classic kiss of apology. That’s supposed to work every time.”
You tilted your head, pretending to think it over, then shrugged casually. “Ehhh, wasn’t enough. You’re gonna have to do better than that, bird brain.”
Hawks’ mouth dropped open in disbelief, and his wings puffed out a little in what could only be described as a mini panic mode. “I—what? Better than that? What, do I need to pull out a ring? Get down on one knee? Hire a skywriter?” He paused, a mischievous glint suddenly entering his eyes. “Or… do you want me to serenade you with an original song? I can bust out a guitar and everything, babe.”
You snorted, unable to help the giggle that escaped. “Please don’t.”
“Oh, so you’re serious, huh?” He gave a mock serious nod, like he was really thinking this through now, eyes narrowing as if this was the most challenging mission he’d ever faced. “Alright, fine. How about this? Tomorrow morning, I’ll make you breakfast. Like, a real breakfast. Pancakes, eggs, bacon, the whole works. I’ll even throw in some of those fancy berries you like.”
You raised an eyebrow, still playing along. “I don’t know… I feel like breakfast might not be enough.”
Hawks gasped dramatically, his wings fluttering up with the motion. “Not enough? Who are you, and what have you done with my girlfriend? This is outrageous!”
You couldn’t help but laugh at his theatrics, but you managed to keep a straight face long enough to reply. “I mean… how do I know it’ll be a good breakfast? I’m not sure you’ve ever even made pancakes before. What if they come out burnt?”
Now he was on a mission. He threw his hand over his heart like he was swearing an oath. “Burnt pancakes? Me? Impossible! I’ll have you know, I was trained by the best chefs—uh, youtube videos,” he admitted with a sheepish grin, “but still! I’m a fast learner.”
You finally cracked, shaking your head as you laughed. “Hawks, you’re ridiculous.”
He stepped closer, his voice dipping into that playful, persuasive tone he always used when he was trying to charm his way out of trouble. “Come on, dove. I’ll even make the coffee just the way you like it. And I’ll clean the dishes after, too. And—” he paused for dramatic effect, eyes twinkling as he leaned in closer, his face just inches from yours—“I’ll even give you one of my feathers. For free.”
You rolled your eyes at his ridiculous offer, but you couldn’t stop the grin that tugged at your lips. “Oh, one feather? Such generosity. I’m truly blessed.”
He beamed, clearly pleased with himself. “See? Now we’re getting somewhere. That’s a Hawks Special Offer. I don’t just give these feathers away to anyone, y’know.”
You laughed, finally giving in as you lightly shoved him away, but he only pulled you back into his arms, his wings wrapping around the two of you in a feathery cocoon. His golden eyes softened, the playfulness giving way to something more sincere as he pressed his forehead gently to yours.
“Seriously, though,” he murmured, his voice a little quieter now, “I’m sorry if I made you feel ignored earlier. I get caught up in the crowd sometimes, but you’re always the one I come back to. You’re the one I want, dove.”
Your heart melted at his words, and you leaned into him, letting the last bits of annoyance fade completely. “You’re lucky I love you,” you muttered, your voice muffled slightly against his chest.
He chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest. “I know. But hey, I’m pretty lovable, right?” He leaned back just enough to look at you, a smirk returning to his lips. “So, are we good now? Or do I still have to make that five-star breakfast tomorrow?”
You smiled up at him, shaking your head. “You still owe me breakfast. I’m holding you to that.”
Hawks grinned, his wings ruffling in excitement. “Deal. I’ll even throw in some bonus wing cuddles. How’s that for a peace offering?”
You laughed, rolling your eyes again but letting yourself sink into his warmth. “Fine. You’re forgiven. But those pancakes better be perfect.”
He puffed out his chest proudly, his wings fluffing up behind him. “They’ll be the best damn pancakes you’ve ever had. Guaranteed.” Then he paused, as if something just occurred to him, and with an overly dramatic sigh, he added, “And if they aren’t, well… I guess you’ll just have to teach me.”
You narrowed your eyes playfully. “You mean I’ll end up cooking breakfast?”
“Exactly!” he said with a wink, completely shameless. “See, teamwork makes the dream work!”
Shaking your head, you playfully swatted at him as he laughed, his wings drawing you closer again. “Don’t push your luck, bird brain.”
He grinned wider, leaning in to steal another kiss. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
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capslocked · 1 year ago
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KINKVEMBER DAY: 7
[prompt: praise kink]
male reader x shen xiaoting
7k words
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Well - from a glance, Xiaoting is flawless.
Every photographer makes the same movement as soon as she steps foot onto the stage - almost as if she's commanding them - but it's not a fair competition and she knows it.
The tiny black dress wrapped around her waist, hugging every meticulous angle in its stretch, isn't exactly the most practical of options, but then again nor was the sleeveless cut or the low-backend, nor the slit in the skirt that shows however much leg you're curious to see, nor the five-inch Louboutins with little ribbons at the ankles, crystals in their mesh like a real-life glass slipper - so, truly, anything about this outfit.
But in this industry, red carpets are about one thing: image.
(Something Xiaoting wields in excess.)
She pauses the subtle sashay of her hips mid-way across the stage, and pivots around, straightening out the waves in her hair, done-up and perfect-in-pink, over her shoulders. She lets the flash of every camera illuminate the swell of her lips in full - reflect and shimmer in the sequence of diamonds dangling under her ears. But it's all in that little smirk, the tilt of her chin. Everything working together to sell the moment; how breathtakingly beautiful she is, how proud, confident and seemingly indifferent to all the commotion happening around her - to every person calling her name and pleading for her to look in this specific direction.
You can watch how deliberate she holds her posture. See it. Understand it. Watch how she tips her head. The genuine kind of smile that could drive anyone to absolute ruin.
Maybe the more obvious: how the cameras love her - love the flash, the shine and glitter and sparkle of the fabric, love the turn of a heel onto where her legs are poised, her profile a perfect angle for every shot and more and more and more.
There's not even the slightest suggestion of just how overwhelmed she is.
-
"You're not supposed to be back here," is the very first thing you hear, as soon as Xiaoting catches your reflection in the vanity mirror.
You hold up a press pass with a headshot that loosely looks like you. Like in a really dark, kind of out-of-focus photo sort of way. Xiaoting simply lets out a slightly disapproving sigh.
"Someone's probably looking for that, you know."
"What's the worst thing that could happen? Someone doesn't get to ask you what your favorite color is, or what you had for breakfast? God forbid we need to know your TMI."
She slips the crystal bracelet off the end of her narrow wrist and places it gently next to the red carpet gear strewn across the surface in front of her. A necklace. The earrings, similar in their shimmer. A matching headband, an evening clutch in white. It's all sitting, not necessarily disorganized, but it's in the mess that Xiaoting is all the while searching for things; lip gloss and makeup, small hair clips.
"You could get us both in trouble, for starters."
When she looks up at you, briefly, there's an attempt at a scolding expression - a short-lived one, how it quickly gives way to a grin, a laugh, all the things she can't help when it's you in particular.
"I'll make sure it finds its way back where I found it," and with a hand over her shoulder, "or at least somewhere close enough. If anyone asks."
Xiaoting bounces an impossibly sweet smile off the mirror at you when her eyes find yours again. And while she starts unclipping pins from her hair, lifting and tousling and adjusting the curls into a more familiar shape, you're almost entranced in the way her shoulders loosen and her eyelashes flutter. In this light, she's even more devastating: an illusion of something both fragile, and immensely resilient.
"At the very least," she says, "I won't hold my breath for anyone else to find their way into my dressing room anytime soon."
She gets a hold of a simple clip, pulls a stray strand of pink off her cheek, and tucks it behind her ear. The gesture is fluid, elegant even, and so singular.
She really is, gorgeous.
The fact that you have to occasionally remind her of that is a different maddening issue entirely. You've always wondered - and always will continue to wonder, really - why it is the prettiest girls seem to have the hardest time understanding they're beautiful. It makes you crazy, makes your head hurt.
There's an entire world worth of things for her to fixate her attention on: her job, her fans and career; a hundred more names and faces to learn - people who would probably agree to hang the stars in the sky for her, given the chance, the mere opportunity. But instead she can only bring herself to stare into a mirror and compare notes and point out all these things she doesn't feel ready for.
This interview, or her performance, or the next.
"They're talking about me. Those 'insiders'," she explains, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the voices in the hallway. "Said, my styling this past year has been too 'soft.' Too 'girly.' No one's buying it," and with a pout: "now, or then, apparently"
"Always works for me," you tell her, in a way that implies it's absolutely none of their business at the end of the day; what colors Xiaoting shows up in, how she wears her makeup and dresses, her shoes or perfume.
She floats her fingers up to the dip of her collarbone, weaving them into your hand. The contented look on her face, now a near permanent fixture in the space she keeps between the two of you, suggests that of all her accessories - gifts and borrowed things she wears in a perpetual game of dress-up - you're the one she would prefer most.
"Well," she says, fixing you a mischievous twist of her brow, "you'd say that if I was up there wearing nothing at all."
"Oh, not a doubt in my mind."
(As usual, the both of you laugh far too much.
As usual, neither of you manage to care.
Your lives have always been about soft edges. A little nonsense here and there, so long as it means having more of her.)
She brings your knuckles to her lips, careful and reserved, and holds the tips of her fingers gently to your neck. "How much more do you have tonight?"
"The rest of the hour is probably asking too much." You help Xiaoting onto her feet, arms wrapping her middle, and with a kiss dropped into her hair, you tell her, "should probably report in, let someone know I haven't gotten myself expelled."
"Thought you said you were a terrible liar."
"Oh, I am," you say. "That's just how much trouble I've already been making for myself tonight."
Xiaoting watches you kiss her shoulder, her neck, all in amusement, eyes never breaking contact as your lips brush and linger against the delicate shape of her wrist. A shiver in her exhale - almost a laugh, an 'I'm listening,' in a form of its own - and you find her body shifting into a natural and familiar hold; the outline of her mouth so unbelievably tempting when it parts so naturally - that when it comes down to a choice: Xiaoting against you, you and her in her private room, the hustle and bustle, and rush-hustle of the building and people and machines outside your door -
It really doesn't take too much convincing.
"Fifteen minutes. They'll start wondering," you tell her, already dipping forward to capture her in your arms. She falls right back, perfectly content as though she doesn't belong anywhere else. "We'd have to be really quick."
"You're bad," Xiaoting hums, winding further into your arms, smiling between the warm, warm kisses you're trailing along the collar of her dress, where the zipper is resting and ready to be drawn down.
The moment is candid: you pressing your lips into the bare skin of her shoulder, following it up with something that's part laugh, and part the kind of sigh people make after too long without sleep. You're already struggling against the curve of her waist - the swell of her hips, all her curves - while your nose nuzzles in deeper, a delicate exploration into the bend of her neck, against her shoulder, the hint of perfume. 
"Only one of us can be perfect, sweetheart." The damn truth, even if she hears it all the time and from everyone else. "You're gonna have to settle.”
You watch her expression melt into that self-composed, self-confident mien when you say it - in a quiet, contented kind of way; an ethereal sort of assurance. As though she was never meant to be touched by anyone, much less held by you, but somehow decided to allow it nonetheless. That look in her eye, it makes your heart twist. Every damn time.
"What about an accident," she muses, "something keeping you longer. Twenty maybe?"
"Oh," you chuckle. "Those happen in the hallway and parking lot. Where everyone can see. Never behind the scenes, for a totally unlikely and unrelated reason."
"Technicalities."
She turns to face you, fully, eyes lit and shimmery under the room's lighting; pink hair, all shades of glitter and silk and the smoothest, warmest skin. Your touch grazes up her sides, palms smoothing over the fine print, the sequins in the fabric, her hands all the while busy weaving, needily, around your waist, underneath the line of your shirt, finding and tracing along the ridges in your hips and spine.
Xiaoting wants you - plain and simple as that. The look on her face says as much.
And if you don't touch her now, kiss and feel her against you - all of it at once - she'll make sure you regret ever prioritizing anything over her. Over the two of you, and how perfectly and neatly you fit together, even if that means you're both absent for press calls, or a segment, or an interview she can't be late to. She'll blame you and it'll be okay.
"Fourteen minutes now," you inform her. "If it’s something you're counting."
"Give or take a few," Xiaoting smiles. Her words slip against your cheek, hot and honey-coated. It's tempting. Her teeth find your jawline and the gentle nip against your skin is hard to ignore. "Did you lock the door?"
"Believe it or not, that was the first thing I did."
And with her hips in your palms, you steal a kiss, because you can - because she's kissing you right back - her forearms wrapping over your shoulders, holding you tight around your neck, and, ahh - Xiaoting's mouth - how eagerly, so desperately, she parts your lips and slips her tongue over your teeth, humming, mumbling happily into a second and third and fourth kiss. Then, once the heat of the moment sweeps in, melting into something slower, sweeter, lingering, a little deeper, it's another.
And another after that.
She leans into you, the rise and fall, slow-down-then-start-again, of her chest and of her breathing and of the tiny, stifled noises she’s kissing into your lips. Only you're pinching the fabric around her waist, slowly lifting the hem of her skirt further up her thighs and reminding her that there's a promise for slow later, that she can take all the time in the world to map and remember the planes and edges of your body; trace the curves of every little sensitive spot and learn again how she fits into your hands, in the time and space that's left to the two of you alone.
"Thirteen-"
"Minutes," she echoes breathily against your ear and over the sound of her fingers in your belt. "I know. Got it."
Xiaoting's hasty. She has to be; reaching and fumbling to pop open your pants while the heat of her mouth finds you first, her tongue sliding smooth across your throat, chin, the warmth and the taste, then along the corner of your mouth - your tongue chasing hers and turning it into a mess that's as intimate and satisfying as it is clumsy; breath catching in both your mouths, hands intertwining, needing the contact with just as much fervent abandon.
Off, off, off, she's murmuring into you, thumbs perched dangerously on your waist, dipping into the fabric, tracing the rim, taking a tease down a little farther with each lazy caress, and, in the very back of your mind, there's a small voice in agreement that insists you are most definitely in no hurry at all.
It grows louder when the small shape of Xiaoting's palm is all the way down the rise of your pants, all over where you're beginning to grow hard - straining and twitching and almost painfully, impatiently interested. You hold her closer and clutch harder because the need is like a burn - one that's seared itself comfortably, wonderfully between your hips, where you feel each brush and curve and fond stroke of her touch.
Her eyes lift to meet yours, gleaming and knowing and laughing, no doubt aware that you're both going to be wrecked no matter which of these games she wins.
"Nothing we can't solve here and now." She tells you.
"True."
"I'll get my mouth on you later, make it all better."
"Later?" Your voice, completely a mess and breaking just enough, forces its way between a kiss that feels anything but. You're pleading for her, into her lips. "Oh, is that a promise, sweetheart?"
"A promise," Xiaoting gasps. "Or a threat. Depends how fast you're ready for me."
"Hush." And you hold her mouth open with yours, devour and drink the sounds falling from her tongue, each one that starts off shallow then trails deeper and deeper and deeper, until her hands have settled over you, and her fingers are finally pushing below the hem, and working the length of your cock, up and down and along it all.
"Hey,” she says, far too inviting, “aren't you supposed to be, like, tearing off this dress by now?"
Xiaoting smirks up at you. With a slight motion of her hand, the other having come to wrap fully around your shaft, the two fingers twisting along your tip, spreading the beading moisture into a long stroke.
"Very gentlemanly of you, wanting to keep it all nice and put together-" and with a wiggle of her brows, "-unsuspicious."
You clench your teeth through a gasp - a jolt at the sudden brush of her fingertips over the base, further down. Xiaoting has that mischief to her - she always has - a certain inclination to press and test the boundaries until they're unrecognizable, to poke and prod where she shouldn't, only the slightest bit concerned.
"Trust me, I would. Only this is a dress I can't afford to ruin, sweetheart." You're leaning her against the vanity, freeing one of her hands to press around behind her, against the cold, cluttered countertop, feeling how the sharp breath in her lungs goes soft and hot immediately, wanting.
"In that case," she tells you, a knowing tilt in her mouth, "you'll just have to ruin me in it."
That's a little closer to your budget given how fast your arm slips under her hip, pulling her up onto the vanity and angling her into you. Her skirt ruffles and follows, the material all too eager to keep you and the lithe frame of her body nice and snug together. There's that sharp gasp in her chest again, at the hand you're running up her thighs; an approval to your arrangement in the sound of her laughter, to your kiss, and all the fever-filled strokes jerking your cock that she's busying herself with again.
You can feel an urge you both share and want to make real and tangible, to peel down and past and over those tiny black panties; feel the heat rising, the wetness there, and all the eager, eager noises of her pleasure.
"Ten minutes." Your teeth are grazing into her lip, her mouth, while she whimpers so pretty into your throat. "Does that put any ideas in your head?"
"Nearly everything." Xiaoting lets your pants fall and uses the back of her heel to skid them down around your feet. "But maybe, especially your cock right here, if you’re going to slide it so slowly over me-" she sucks on her next breath, holding her hand where her panties are; smoothing against you with her hips rocking forward.
You feel her head drop, slightly, when she whispers into a heated kiss, "right between, the most tender way, where I'm aching the most."
"I bet you'd look beautiful with it," you say, all kinds of things, leaning and mumbling into her neck, all that exposed skin. "My cum on you. Sitting so good right here, in such a tight little-"
She stops your teasing with her kiss, pushing forward to the point where her ass is bumping right against your hips, your hand, your cock; coaxing you in closer.
And then, a particularly stern warning, probably warranted, sneaks out through the bite of her lip; just barely restrained: "I swear to god if you make a mess anywhere - don’t, if you know what's best for you.”
"That's a pretty roundabout way of asking me to cum inside you, Xiaoting. Wording matters."
"Telling." Her smile is all kinds of sly; all for you to witness and tuck safely in your pocket later. "Not asking."
"We’ll see what we can do with nine minutes," you tell her, and your cock is snug against the lace of her underwear - right where she's so fucking wet - you can already hear it in the little, jerking huffs in her voice and on her breath and how your hands are touching her through the fabric. How between hot, clumsy kisses, she's lifting and drawing her body as close as possible and curling into you.
(God.)
"Easy," she mouths, all hot and hazy as she drags the lacy band of elastic aside. It's your turn to inhale and jerk and gasp, but there's hardly anything there to catch you, just her whisper that says, "there you go, honey, fill me up real slow. Right to the very, very top," her voice arching high when you've begun to nudge your cock into her, opening her up and up and up with a slow, steady thrust. "Just - like - that."
And in the seconds, maybe minutes (you’re trying not to lose track), that follow, you are holding your breath against the heat blossoming through her cheek. Against Xiaoting, flushed and whimpering, hands buried in her dress and her hips starting to roll back on your cock. It's a tiny adjustment; nowhere to go but deeper, further - grinding together however you can manage.
It's one thing to love each other quietly, discretely and with all that discretion.
It's another entirely, in times like these, to give in to a raw-edge impulse that hits suddenly and leaves just as fast. Your hips snap in and in and in, Xiaoting's chest rising and rising, her head turned and pressed into the shoulder of your shirt, her hand already caught in a fistful of sleeve. And you - the friction is so soft and so good, a slick, easy glide of your cock - full - all the way to the very last inch.
Just her seedy, whimpering whine fills the back of your neck and your ear, and her arms and her legs locked in around you, like a coil ready to burst, that ache coming to a head.
The ends of her hair are soft and sweet where you gather a fistful of pink around your wrist, hold - pull, like a taut string. Xiaoting gasps a fluttering note as her chin tips up, the smooth canvas of her throat begging to be kissed and roughed up in just the right places. Reddening like the insides of her thighs, the heat there, where they're pinched around your waist - delicate little marks of where you're fucking her open and bare and deep and so well.
You could drink up each and every noise - all the keening and humming, the ruffled, strung-out sounds; how you're both breathing into a shared mess of gasping and panting, of Xiaoting whimpering into your throat, clinging on like she'll die otherwise. "Faster," she pleads all desperate and urgent. "More. Fuck this pussy like it deserves, don't you want it? So wet, can't you feeling how I'm aching?"
You can. Hot and wet and absolute.
You can feel the shudder-wreck, the absolute throe - there's not an ounce left between you; nothing but her slick, warm cunt clutching and hugging your cock, letting it stretch her apart and fill her again and again, the little ridge between your hips slipping over her clit on a forward, upward stroke and grinding there, with a shaky hand cradling her lower back for support while you drive back into the thrust.
"Ting, fucking christ - Ting, your tight little pussy is incredible." You groan into her skin. "Taking me, fucking, taking every, last, inch-"
"I can feel you fucking throbbing," Xiaoting tells you, all teasing and exasperated as she lets your name turn into a series of vibrating hums against your lips. "You're going to make me fucking lose it, the way you're hitting me inside."
See, you fit together, inside-and-outside so perfect; that when you begin to really fuck Xiaoting, when she's making it clear, over, and over, yes, harder, give it to me, and the table she's sitting on is giving away each-and-every one of her whimpers, you lose yourself in the rhythm and pace and the fact that Xiaoting's creaming cunt is working itself hot and messy and pulsating around you; so fucking tight, tight, - slick all around - almost drawing you in, then resisting and tensing every-time your cock finds just the deepest angle.
It's something to push, something that makes you greedy and drive her ass into the cabinet even more; make sure you're slipping along her walls just enough, and doing so with every few inches or less that you're managing to drive, working over a pressure so sensitive it might be making her see stars, every time a thumb digs a little deeper into her hip bone.
"All the way, baby," she's saying, whispering, making you want to fuck the words out of her in broken pieces. "So. Close. Just a little-"
She's gone, her back arched - bending into an incredible sight. And there's the most beautiful look on her face, even under the frantic-urgent rush. Your hands are all over her: pressing into the divots above her hips; petting the expanse between her tits, then down again, feeling out her ribcage, her belly, in between her thighs and parting them wider - like if she were any more spread open, she'd be coming right off the table.
Then, the thumb tangled into the sleeve of her dress, the rough pad of the other rubbing circles over her swollen clit - here you'll figure she'll cum; she's never shy about it - but it's more a question of how many times. How it always builds up and comes apart.
You're obsessed, really, with the details: her eyelids fluttering, the sounds of her skin sliding down onto the cabinets, her lips that can never get themselves closed.
"Oh, Ting," you're panting, licking all over her parted mouth, "do you need-"
Her nails begin to cut half-crescents into the small of your back, where she's been gripping at you; a moan falls straight out from her tongue, straight into your own, the closest she'll ever come to asking for anything: but it's easy.
"You're so fucking pretty, baby, I'll give you whatever you need-"
You slide your fingers higher up her folds, pushing onto her hot cunt right over the spot where your cock is disappearing inside her.
"I know that's what you need to be fucked silly, right? Need some extra friction so I can have the entire inside of this fucking cunt dripping-"
Xiaoting makes a noise that tells you, good guess. And you're playing her closer and closer to her orgasm, watching her teeth sink into her own lip, knowing that she's the one on a timer - which makes it all the easier, because you know exactly what to say next, because you've played this game enough - when you've already been fucking her and fingering her through one or two and her noises are telling you her body needs just one more, and then, the words usually roll right out, not the slightest bit contrived:
"That's it, sweetheart, you look so fucking good. So, so pretty cumming on my cock, baby. You're fucking gorgeous, you know that? I can't get enough of you."
Her mouth falls open, eyes screwing tight with it - the praise, the way you can talk her right into it every fucking time - the way it all but kills her: even when she's getting pumped full of pre-cum and sleeved around your cock like a glove, you know that sometimes the words are the only thing she's chasing, and her jaw starts to trembling just like the rest of her. This full body tension, head to toe of perfection you're whispering in her ear. She's pressing her heels harder than before against the back of your legs, digging, her whole chest shaking for a gasp of air she doesn't seem to ever be able to fully catch.
"But god, I wish you were looking at me," you're begging, sincere, with a deep sort of pining, when you get the the sharp twist of her neck, like it takes everything in her, then, like it's a miracle - those lidded, still-water eyes focused right on you. "I want to make you fall apart, just looking at me, sweetheart."
(Your poor heart. An obsession. So in love with her.)
The kiss you steal from her lips is deeper, your tongues playing a familiar song, the push, pull - how easy and perfect she fits.
When she cums, it always starts quiet, not like what she's just started doing: the kind of cries and moans that begin to make it past her teeth, desperate and panting, her fingers crushing down in place where they're pressed to your skin. Those whimpers that start quiet, get loud, fast, and then Xiaoting's arching right up from the table and clenching her entire body. With you inside her, she's so wrapped up in how good it is, the pleasure spiking past her pussy and into her veins.
"Shh," you soothe her, lovingly brushing her hair to the side when her breath shudders hard; the mess you made, sliding a palm against her cheek when the first few tears gather, the way they always do when Xiaoting's overwhelmed and torn down in such a good, beautiful way. 
You could kiss her, when you feel the curve of her trembling lips. You do, again-again; slip and wet and parted and sliding when Xiaoting lets you hold the base of her chin between your forefinger and thumb, and bring your mouths together like that.
You could hold the moment longer. Keep kissing her and not moving - except Xiaoting has that meek, "Fuck me," mumbled into your open mouth, her half-wits returning and giving her the very start of a wicked grin - all sloppy with orgasm. "However you want, whatever will make you cum fast-"
"Turn around for me. I'm going to show you how pretty you are, looking just like that-"
"Y-Yeah- '' Xiaoting is trying, her joints trembling as she moves her body. She's so good, listening, rolling onto the surface of the table with her ass up, palms spread out and supporting her into this perfect line. Xiaoting's defining the curve: where her lower back and tight little ass begins and ends, right up into her shoulders and spine. Her hair has fallen across one side, and now you can finally see how much she's blushing in the mirror, the messes that her eye makeup has smudged into, how good she's been, and now how sweet and pliable and worked open her muscles are.
The view alone could have you blowing your load before you can even do it properly inside her.
But, god - the fact that her dress was hanging down on one shoulder, then on none, exposing her naked skin entirely; the fact that you can't resist grabbing a hand around a waist-full of her body and dragging her back closer, slotting your thighs under hers and her ass up against you, cock sliding into her still-clenching cunt without the help of your hands, just finding it where it belonged. You give it to her like she's meant to take. Fast. Hard. Deep. Making sure each-time your cock is in its base-deep place and sliding right back out, pulling slick, creamy strands out from her fucked-out pussy. Bathing you in her want, her need, pooling along the base of your cock; seeping everywhere.
There's just so much of it. The sounds echoing off the empty walls, so distinct, unmistakable, so full and thick. The way your whole body seems to tighten and tense along with hers - everything tight, you can see it, your eyes sweeping from Xiaoting's thighs to the reflection of how she just takes you. Shaking each time, the lines of her body wobble forward when your hips land a heavy thrust and slide along every bit velvety-wet inside her: no room for your cum when she's this overflowing, you figure, wondering how full of it she could even get.
"Fuck," the word just slides off you. "Fucking god, you're the best fuck," you praise her. Like heaven.
Because Your hand is in her hair again, wrapped up in and smoothing over the tangles; feeling her like silk. But now you're grabbing too - holding her steady, a fistful between the roots; you want her back arched, canted just that one angle higher that you know would push her past all limits.
“Oh my god,” she gasps out, once your get her knee planted up on the counter - once she's spread herself even further for the weight of your body. "That's it - holy shit, please-more-"
There are little whispers too - stuff that makes your cock twitch a few times, pulsing in warning - not even fully aware that she's cumming down all over your waist, praises like the hottest of filth, please and yes and I need it and fuck and fucking christ, keep going and don't stop don't stop please baby I'll do anything anything-
Xiaoting's voice reaches the same high pitch she does when her clit is getting hit, not sure what part of her body you're touching or just the overwhelming sensation, but god she doesn't know which way to turn her neck and face. She just ends up taking it all in, breathing in the gravity of the moment - her reflection, yours, the feeling - a tremor building up, her eyes flickering back-forth when she realizes they've started to close, forcing herself to look at the both of you.
You fuck your cock through each inch of her quivering cunt, each one hotter, tighter, wetter than the last - until you're spilling cum - cumming deep and fast inside her -
Reaching so far she can feel the thick pool of it getting fucked further into her with every shallow snap of your hips; her ass flushing back up against your stomach. Filling her to the brim - enough to feel it drip and seep and slide.
And she doesn't stop, the way she has her hips rolling down your length and staying there, your cock rooted into her deepest spot. If there's one more thing she gets off on it's being filled, milking the remnants, emptying you, and - because she's almost fucking teasing you, you feel it when she's clenching the remaining dredges right out of your body; out and leaking hot along your over-sensitised skin. The sharp sting of it has your hands tight on her waist, her ass spilling through the gaps of your fingers - deciding what you'll do.
"Three minutes," she says, panting, "is enough-"
You squeeze through the sculpted round of her ass. Spank it. Knead it.
"You want me to fuck another one into you - can you take that? You'd be such a good girl if you can take a fucking like that."
"I mean it," Xiaoting rasps, hips still lifted and angled toward you, as she meets you in the mirror; her eyes looking past your reflection, still coming down, wrecked and fucked raw, but making the message clear. "I'll make it easy for you."
And with that's she got her hand on your still-hard cock; not nearly enough softness in her voice for the rough grip and the sloppy pumping - fucking filth out of her still, if there was ever any hope of getting it out the way she's pulling and using and moving the slick all over you, spilling it onto the floor. "Think I can make you cum again, right here and now."
The thing about Xiaoting is:
She makes bad decisions, but always with the best intentions. That's why you always know what she'll say.
Because it's almost always the same answer: a pair of crossed wrists and a coy-eagerness that's enough of an invitation for you to make use of what she's given.
And this is the exact way you find yourself dragging the fabric of her dress down her shoulder, her middle, her breasts falling back down from their bounce when you unwind it, then twisting the end tightly into itself before shoving it into the soft valley of her mouth.
I love your tits, you know that?" you tell her, mouth open and hot against her shoulder blade. “So fucking pretty all over, Ting, your entire body's amazing and it does things to me-if I could, I would keep my cum inside this tiny little pussy, over and over, keep filling it. Make your tummy swell for me, sweet baby, and never let a single drop-"
"Do it-" she moans out, words garbled by the fabric. Her eyes are wide and full of the darkest innocence, like anything could happen; anything you wished. "Do it, your fucking cock, want to feel you-"
You spank her again, and she keens.
The mirror is showing you how her chest reddens under the rush of your hands kneading at her, almost violent, before sliding down the back-insides of her thigh, pushing, "But, what you look like with my cock buried inside you, stretched out and still so fucking tiny around me."
It's not new. It's what makes Xiaoting give you the dirtiest, sexiest little hum around the cloth wedged inside her mouth.
Then her cunt clenches down on your cock, and you're groaning, "christ," watching the way her face tugs at the stretch, watching, when her back is pushed out again - the angle. You're lining up, sucking in the full and naked and glistening display of her body before letting your hips fuck into hers again. It feels even better than the first time: tightening like a vise around the thickness of you, your cum pouring back inside her, then with her eyes fixed to yours in the mirror, you get to watch her lips straining; a drooling, whimpering mess.
Then. You're slamming her waist into the table. Rough, reckless. Desperate to reach another edge, rough enough that she can barely look up from her bowed elbows, elegant features twisted into something a little more awful, a little more pretty - just there, and - and - 
A third time. Four. More.
Xiaoting's whimpering, just so spent she has nothing else left, your cock filling her up so full and hot with your spill; she's sloppy and flushed and you're pressing her up into the cool surface of the mirror, with her legs giving in when she collapses over her heels and nearly tumbles over; her own body weighing nothing.
If she asked, "carry me," in any way, you'd be on her like clockwork; you'd get her turned around into a loose-limbed pile, a leg thrown over each of her waist; she'd already have her cheek nestled against your jaw, halfway asleep, a warm bundle pressed up and waiting to get tucked into bed and swept into all of the things that would make her purr and melt; blankets and warm-clothes and showers and tending.
You'd always make a show out of sweeping her off her feet. Because the thing is, Xiaoting deserves it.
And you let her know that:
"You're always the sweetest, aren't you? Taking a fucking like that," you tell her, burying the dying gasps of a laugh right into the sweat-sticky back of her neck. You can feel her throat vibrating out a small sound, her brain almost definitely not able to formulate words, maybe only just registering the tones of your voice. "You are just so breathtakingly gorgeous, babe, the prettiest baby. The fucking world must be upside down, because no one tells you nearly often enough."
And -
Xiaoting - really, above all else, is fucking gorgeous. Because her tired laugh echoes a small part of itself straight down your spine, filling all the dips between each of your vertebrae. Genuine smile and all.
It has your skin crawling back to life, warming up.
There's a murmured 'thank you' said somewhere into the back of her hand, between her pinky finger and her ring, a small, stifled breath that pulls on her tired voice; it's a sleepy sound, like honey, and maybe that's why you choose to tell her one more time.
You glance at the clock on the wall. It's been a good fifteen-plus-extra minutes. You can live with that.
"Told you we'd be late," you say, smoothing out the fabric of her dress.
Which means this is the second time she says: "Nothing there we can’t solve with a little..."
"Carelessness?"
"Misdirection. Pretty convenient for some of us," Xiaoting murmurs with the lingering sweetness of your kiss on her lips. "Who have that charming talent with words."
She looks up, wincing and dabbing at the dried tracks on her cheeks where her eyelashes have swept away all the makeup and tears, like a soft brush sweeping away the layer of snow, she lets her head rest there in your palm and the other soothes, warm, on the back of her neck - her shoulders a little slack when you feel her whole body relax.
"Love you," Xiaoting says, after a heavy breath; a shaky exhale, just under her tongue; "even when we're a little crazy."
Your cheeks warm as they squish themselves around her grin.
"Love you. Now hold still," you say - taking it slow, kissing the damp pink curls right behind her ear. Then, for the most part, it's back to business. Back to normal.
Makeup wipes and wet washcloths. Clearing and setting the furniture upright. Hastily undoing the locks, so that to anyone who's passing by and smelling the raw, irrefutable evidence of sex and sin, they can turn away and think twice - no one's fault except the wicked thoughts swirling and forming in the back of their thoughts.
(No matter how many times you do, it's no different with Xiaoting; her smile turns the wheels in your head - still spinning. You can't help it when she laughs with her eyes still half-mast - fucked-out; a headiness, her tone like velvet.)
And the 'yes, we do,' on her breath when she hums again, is the beginning of an I-told-you-so, when you tell her, "c’mon, we've got places to be."
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gpcwsl · 4 days ago
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Hellooo :) aw yay! may i do a request for Leah Williamson x Alessia Russo x R as a throuple, and its media day with fans submitting questions?
The questions are “who fell first, who fell harder? How did you all become a pairing, who ask who out? Most likely to get jealous, most romantic..” and at the end the admin ask them to each say their favorite thing about each of their girlfriends? Lots of fluff and cuteness!
( you are one of my favorite authors on here!) :)
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Warnings: nothing? Guess three people dating, and short. I am not shipping Leah and Alessia, they are good friends!
Alessia Russo x Leah Williamson x Reader
- Three’s company -
MasterList
It was media day at Arsenal, and the players were buzzing with energy. The cameras were rolling, the crew was setting up, and the club’s social media team had prepared a series of fan-submitted questions for a special sit-down featuring the team’s most unconventional, yet most adored relationship: Leah Williamson, Alessia Russo, and you.
The three of you sat side by side on a plush couch in front of a vibrant Arsenal-branded backdrop. Leah was in the middle, one arm slung casually around Alessia’s shoulders, the other resting on your thigh. Alessia was already giggling at something the admin said, while you nudged Leah playfully, trying to keep the mood light despite the cameras.
“Okay, everyone,” the admin began, adjusting their clipboard. “We’ve had an overwhelming number of questions for you three, so let’s dive right in.”
Leah leaned back, a playful grin on her face. “Let’s do it.”
“Question 1: “Who fell first?”
The admin read the question aloud, and immediately Alessia and Leah turned to you with matching smirks.
“You’re joking, right?” Alessia teased, nudging you with her elbow.
Your cheeks flushed as you rolled your eyes. “Okay, fine. It was me. But in my defense, you two are kind of hard not to fall for.”
Leah laughed, squeezing your thigh. “You were definitely a goner the moment Alessia smiled at you. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”
“Hey!” you protested, shooting Leah a mock glare. “It wasn’t just Alessia. You had me completely distracted during training for weeks.”
Alessia laughed, leaning into Leah. “So basically, we were both irresistible. Noted.”
Question 2: “Who fell harder?”
This time, all three of you paused to think. Leah was the first to answer.
“Alessia,” she said with a teasing grin.
“Excuse me?” Alessia protested, her eyes wide.
“You’re just a hopeless romantic,” Leah replied, her voice full of affection. “I mean, you cried during that cheesy rom-com we watched last week.”
“That’s different!” Alessia exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “It’s not my fault they reunited at the airport after five years!”
You chimed in, laughing. “I think Leah’s deflecting because she’s the one who fell the hardest. She literally wrote me a two-page letter after our first date.”
“eah groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Why would you bring that up?”
“Because it was adorable,” you said, leaning over to kiss her cheek.
Question 3: “How did you all become a pairing? Who asked who out?”
The three of you exchanged glances, and Alessia spoke up first.
“Well, Leah and I had been close for years,” she began. “We were best friends, but there was always… something more. We just didn’t admit it for ages.”
“And then you came along,” Leah added, looking at you. “You joined the team, and suddenly everything changed. We both liked you, but neither of us wanted to say anything at first.”
“Until one night after a team dinner,” Alessia continued, grinning. “Leah blurted out that she thought you were gorgeous.”
Leah groaned again, but you laughed. “And then Alessia backed her up by saying she’d been crushing on me for weeks. It was a little overwhelming, but in the best way.”
“And who asked who out?” the admin prompted.
“Technically, I asked both of you out,” Alessia said, shrugging. “I figured someone had to take charge.”
“She brought us flowers,” you added with a fond smile. “One bouquet for each of us.”
Question 4: “Who’s most likely to get jealous?”
“Leah,” you and Alessia said in unison, earning a mock-offended look from Leah.
“What? No way!” Leah protested.
“You absolutely get jealous,” Alessia teased. “Remember when that fan was overly friendly with me at the meet-and-greet?”
Leah crossed her arms, trying not to smile. “I wasn’t jealous. I was… protective.”
“Sure, Captain Protective,” you said, grinning. “You gave them the death glare for a full five minutes.”
“Fine,” Leah admitted, holding her hands up. “Maybe I get a little jealous sometimes. But can you blame me? I’m dating two amazing women. I don’t want to share.”
Question 5: “Who’s the most romantic?”
Alessia raised her hand immediately. “Me. No contest.”
Leah rolled her eyes playfully. “You’re just saying that because you leave notes in our lockers.”
“And plan surprise dates,” you added, leaning into Alessia.
“And make us breakfast in bed,” Leah admitted.
“Exactly,” Alessia said, grinning triumphantly.
“Okay, fine, you win,” Leah said with a laugh.
Final Question: “What’s your favorite thing about each of your girlfriends?”
The room went quiet as all three of you exchanged glances. Leah was the first to speak.
“About Alessia?” Leah began, her voice soft. “It’s her kindness. She always puts others first, and she has this way of making everyone feel special. And about you…” She turned to you, her eyes shining. “It’s your strength. You’re resilient and grounded, and you keep us both in check.”
Alessia smiled, brushing a tear from her eye. “Leah, my favorite thing about you is your passion. You care so much about everything—football, your friends, your family. It’s inspiring. And about you,” she said, looking at you, “it’s your humor. You always know how to make us laugh, even on the hardest days.”
You took a deep breath, your cheeks flushing. “Leah, my favorite thing about you is your loyalty. You’re always there for us, no matter what. And Alessia, it’s your warmth. You make everything feel like home.”
The admin clapped their hands together, breaking the moment. “That was perfect! I think the fans are going to love this.”
Leah, Alessia, and you exchanged smiles, the love between you radiating in the room. It was clear to everyone watching that this was more than a relationship—it was a partnership, built on trust, laughter, and a whole lot of love.
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Text
Objects in Motion
Part 1
Alpha! Billy Russo x Omega! Reader
A/N: My very first A/B/O fic, that I started a while ago, and just decided to post.
It all started after finding out how much that lovely coat Billy wears in s1 costs.
Warnings: Masturbation, omega in heat.
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You’re often overwhelmed.
It’s the hitch of your breath when your feelings are too big for your body, or the way your throat hurts with all the words that go unsaid.
There are not enoughs and there are too muchs and hardly any moments when things are… just right.
The coat in your hands is soft- ridiculously so, the label offers you an explanation- 100% cotton. You can't help the way your hands tighten on the material, as if you’d fight off anyone that tried to take it from you. Like for the first time, just right isn’t just a far away idea, it’s here, in your hands, against your chest.
How had you ended up here? Curled under your bed sheets, pillows all around you, clutching this lovely black coat to your body?
Today had been very overwhelming, your phone had pinged, alerting you to your impending heat, reminding you that you needed to pick up supplies. 
Your heats were formidable too, always too hot or too hungry or too needy. There was never a part of you that existed within the realms of fine.
At least until now.
When you were clutching this delightful black coat in your hands, bringing it up to your nose so that you could catch a whiff of the bewitching scent. 
It's bergamot at first, followed by notes of citrus that makes your eyes flutter shut. Delight spreads out inside you, fanning at the flames of your desire- your heat coming on faster as your nose lingers on the scent. You catch hints of pepper at the very end and it prompts you to take another long inhale.
Based on the size of the coat, your mind formulates an idea of the size of the person that wears it. The very thought causes you to clench your thighs together.
You didn't mean for this to happen, you'd only gone to pick up your silky PJs from the dry cleaners, designed specifically to be worn during your heat for maximum comfort on your skin. The delicate, gossamer material demanded special care, but you were very glad to have been gifted them some years ago.
You'd just picked up your item, when your nose had zeroed in on a scent that had made your body perk up curiously. It was the first time your senses had streamlined onto one thing, where throughout the day you'd had a number of difficult sensory encounters, leading you into wearing a beanie and noise cancelling headphones and the biggest jacket in your closet in any attempt to feel less things. The scent had made your brain ache for more, demanding you follow what your body had accepted- that this specific scent brought you absolute pleasure.
Even through the garment bag it was stored in, it had activated dangerous thoughts in your hindbrain, and before you could even look around for cameras, you'd reached over the counter and swiped the garment bag when the girl at the front desk wasn't looking. It had been tucked to your chest and smuggled out of the dry cleaners without even a moment of guilt.
Realistically, you wouldn't be in that much trouble anyway, omega behaviour was usually forgiven, even if it didn't make sense. No one would lock you up for swiping a men's coat, especially not so close to your heat.
You have a few hours left, and you use it to make sure your food supplies are easily accessible. Your heats tended to run on for five days- higher than average- which means that you were in a lot more danger of starvation and dehydration.
You wonder if he would take good care of you. Your mind spinning back to the owner of the coat, having already made up some basic idea of him.
You knew his designation, by scent alone, but you were too afraid to admit it to yourself, worried about the consequences of having stolen a coat from someone like that.
Would they be mad? Probably not, you were sure with a scent like that, they were used to omegas swarming around.
The thought made you unreasonably jealous, for a person you didn’t even know.
.
Your heat hits you in the early hours of the next morning. 
You wake with a whine, sitting up, thighs damp with your arousal. You reach for the pills on your bedside table, taking them quickly and swallowing down some tepid water, before lying back. They would help you go back to sleep until morning alleviating some symptoms of your heat. You turn, finding the coat lying beside you. You take a deep breath into it as you fall asleep.
.
You can’t focus on anything as you pump the slick pink dildo in and out of you. There are tears streaming down your face, desperate for much more than you could ever give yourself. 
You bring the coat up to your nose, crying harder as the scent wraps around you.
“Alpha.” You pant into the soft material, imagining your fantasy version of the owner. 
You take a deep breath, envisioning him here with you, presumably large body curved over yours, taking up all the air around you, smooth skin available for you to scratch and claw at, his scent glands on display and eager for your mark.
“Alpha.” You beg again, into the loneliness of your apartment.
.
The coat becomes a centerpoint in your nest.
On day three when it’s fully finished to a satisfactory level, an arrangement of pillows and sheets all around your bed, you tuck the coat in beside you, delighted at the way the material feels on your flushed skin.
The scent is strongest at the collar, where it's probably rubbed on his neck often, brushed against his gland when he turns to examine something.
You groan, mouth watering for a bite of him, whoever he was.
There’s a lot of buttons and buckles on it, and your hindbrain is somewhat obsessed with what you think he looks like wearing it, probaby commands any room he walks into. 
The label at the back says Burberry, and though you're not very familiar with the brand, the clean stitching and soft material tells you that it’s definitely got to cost more than what you pay for your own coats.
You sigh, stripping out of your PJ’s and opting to slide into the coat itself.
A groan slips from your mouth, the material feels coarse on your oversensitive skin, but you welcome it as you feel his scent engulf you.
A fresh wave of arousal coats your thighs, and you can’t help inching your hand down between damp thighs until you find your swollen clit.
.
On your knees now, face down into your bed, you bite down on the collar of the midnight black coat.
Your eyes roll back into your head, muffled grunts as you pump your overstimulated cunt to the brim.
You rub your face into the collar, arching your neck so that your scent gland rubs against the coat, a low whine at the severe taboo thought of rubbing your gland against a stranger's.
It's frowned upon, but the very thought of it is what brings you to orgasm just a few moments later. 
You struggle for air, hair tickling your cheek as you huff, some of it clings to the saliva at the corner of your mouth, some of it is caught in the tears that smear your cheeks.
You want- like never before.
.
When your heat is over, the guilt kicks in.
You know better than to wash the coat yourself, only wiping gently at the interior in hopes of wiping off any lingering traces of… you away. You think about getting it dry cleaned yourself but you’d used the last of your money on the alleviator pills to help with your heat symptoms. You wouldn’t get paid until the end of the month.
Finally, you rummage through the pockets, checking to see if anything had been left behind by the owner. You find a crumpled napkin with someone’s number scribbled on, leaning in, you take an experimental sniff and draw away from it in disgust as the scent hits your nose.
You almost put it back, but you figured it was crumpled anyway, probably meant for a bin in the first place- so you put it there. Searching again and you smile when you come across a tub of lip balm, opening it and giving a little sniff of the inside. There’s no scent to it, and you curiously swipe a bit onto your finger and smear it onto your lips.
You begin to get a sense that the person this coat belongs to, has very refined tastes, and after a quick search, your eyes widen in shock when you discover the lip balm costs near fifty dollars.
Which is how it starts- an itch at the back of your head that tries to warn you of the possibility that the coat in your possession costs more than you’d initially thought.
You let out a slow breath, typing in the information stitched onto the label and your eyes bulge out of your head when you finally see the price of the coat sitting in your lap.
Three thousand.
The coat you stole had cost nearly three thousand dollars.
You look down at the item in betrayal, the scent of its true owner just barely clinging to it. 
You take a deep breath, pushing your phone aside as you begin rummaging for a box capable of returning such an expensive item.
Thankfully, you know where to return it to, as the name and address had been hooked to the garment bag.
Delivering it is another difficult task on its own, but you manage, having to call in a few favours and explain in lengthy detail to the courier that your package wasn’t dangerous in any way but you’d rather not deliver it yourself.
Luckily, you’re able to convince them of your cause, the urge to help an omega in distress working in your favour.
.
It’s nine a.m on a Saturday morning when Billy comes home from his run. 
He’s fishing for his keys in his pocket when he notices that there’s a box sitting in front of his door.
He pauses for a moment, looks at the item, before stepping forward to examine it.
There’s a card on top- one of those printed ones you can get at a convenience store- light blue sky and a panda holding onto a handful of bamboo stalks. 
There’s an “I’m Sorry,” printed on, and then something added in below in pen.
‘From a very apologetic Omega.’ It says.
His eyebrows twitch in amusement, he brings the card up to his nose to catch a whiff- the scent of light, floral perfume fills his nose. 
He’s aware his coat had been stolen, he’d seen video footage of the crime itself, watched as a small hooded frame had reached across and nicked his coat before it could be cleaned. The dry cleaners had sent him the footage when they’d explained what had happened.
He’d thought it had been gone for good, deleting the only copy of the footage and moving on. He could afford to replace one coat. 
This though, was interesting, it seems like the omega had felt some sort of remorse, and had returned his coat to him.
It was sweet, he found himself smiling as he reached down to pick the box up, cradling it under one arm and flipping the card open as he enters his apartment.
He huffs, feeling a little sorry for an omega that couldn’t afford a dry cleaning bill, then again, the cost of the coat would definitely bring up the price a lot more.
‘Dear Alpha,
                   I’m so sorry I took your coat. I tried to clean it as best as I could, but I couldn’t afford to have it dry cleaned for you. It’s wrapped tightly to protect you from the scent on it. I'd suggest not opening it, and taking it to be cleaned as soon as you get it. I’m very sorry.
P.S. You have a very nice scent.’
Curiously, he tugs the box open, finding that the garment bag has been folded carefully and wrapped in plastic wrap. 
He sniffs the box experimentally, searching for any hint of a scent, or any indication that the package could be dangerous.
All he gets is more of that pleasant perfume that he figured was doused in the box to protect him from the scent.
It only makes him more curious.
Billy grips the plastic wrap, and very carefully tears a little hole into the plastic, breaking the seal.
His body goes rigid. 
He feels his pupils dilate, his hindbrain roaring to life as he catches the scent of an omega in heat.
His omega.
He rips the plastic furiously, fumbles with the garment bag and rips the zipper open. His eyes scan the coat, as he takes one long, slow breath.
The first scent he gets are apples, and then light notes of vanilla, but under it all, is the kick of pheromones, that sticks like honey on his tongue.
He takes another deep breath, groaning as his cock swells, pulsing to life, begging to claim the owner of such a delicious scent.
There’s so much of it, filling his space with sweet notes of frustration, yearning and unfulfillment. 
His omega, needing him.
A growl tears from his chest, something inside of him collapses like an avalanche, only increasing with time, decimating his thoughts and leaving a feverish burn under his skin.
He tugs the coat open, groaning, the tart smell of cunt clings to the inside of his coat, telling him that his omega wore his coat naked.
Desperate little thing, he thinks, as he dips his hand into his joggers, fingers wrapping firmly around his cock, squeezing in an attempt to force his orgasm away. He groans, the grip around his cock rewarding him with pleasure, and he can’t help pumping himself, trying to ease the desire inside of him.
He leans in, nose pressed to the collar of his coat, where the scent is strongest, where his omega must have rubbed their little scent gland vigorously against his coat,
Sweet, delightful, his cock aches for a cunt he’s never seen, his mouth yearns for skin he’s never touched. All he has, is the honeyed scent of an omega’s heat, and the screaming inside of him that demands he claim what his body knows is his.
His grip on his cock tightens, his vision blurs, head full of thoughts, ideas of a little omega under him, sobbing as they take his cock repeatedly, begging for more with broken cries.
He doesn’t stop until he comes into his hand, only then, does his thinking sharpen.
He puts his coat in bed beside him, he hopes the sheets will absorb the smell, so that he can have his little omega with him while he sleeps. He wakes with an aching cock, and the coat clutched tightly against his chest, struggling to remember fading dreams of little omegas that beg nicely.
He doesn’t get out of bed until he’s come twice into the palm of his hand.
.
He searches for days. 
But when he’d deleted the footage from the dry cleaners, he’d gotten rid of any hope of tracing his omega’s movements, and chances of finding an address. 
She doesn’t leave any record of one, always opting to pick up her items herself. 
At least he’s gotten that, a basic description, a height, an idea of her complexion and the colour of her eyes.
It was too vague to work with, but it was something he could think about before he went to sleep at night, with his nose buried in his coat, breathing in the scent of her, desperate to find the omega that had stolen his coat and unintentionally taken his heart.
He studies the card too, learns the handwriting, growing more and more desperate for his little omega.
Billy knew he wouldn't stop looking, not until he found the person who'd opened up a nest of possibilities in his head, giving him something he'd never had in a very long time.
Hope.
.
.
.
Part 2
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ylangelegy · 18 days ago
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i love your writing !! 🥹 for the jealousy prompts, han and “i don’t blame them of course, but you’re mine”?
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★ jisung x makeup artist!reader ┆ word count: 1.1k ┆ part of my closed jealousy drabble game.
ⓘ established/secret relationship, fluff.
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There's a certain level of tenacity needed to survive dating an idol.
You've known this since day one, since the unassuming Tuesday afternoon where Jisung had shyly asked you if you wanted to make it official. In the industry, 'official' and 'public' were two completely different promises.
You're not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, though. You love Jisung. He loves you. That should be enough, right?
At least that's what you try to remind yourself as you steel yourself for another award show. It's the Asia Artist Awards this time, one of the bigger ones that Jisung has always admitted to having mixed feelings about.
For a celebrity, your boyfriend sure did have an aversion to crowds.
He's gotten good at masking it, at least. You watch from the wings as he glides down the red carpet with the rest of the band. Not a thing is out of place. His hair is flawless; his suit is pressed. Most importantly, his makeup is immaculate, although that's to be expected when the one doing your makeup is someone who knows your features well.
Jisung does everything that he has to. He puts on a photo-ready smile. He waves to fans, makes hearts with his hands for the cameras. When the boys step aside for interviews, he does that, too— slides in a wisecrack, nods in all the right places.
It's mesmerizing, seeing him put on a show, and it's a show that everybody eats right up.
"He's popular today," one of your fellow makeup artists notes with amusement.
You follow her gaze. She's right. The screams for Jisung's name are a little louder. The cameras flash brighter when he moves. Even the interviewer seems particularly enamored, laughing loudly at Jisung's quips and resting a casual hand on his shoulder.
The flash of annoyance that you feel is assuaged when Jisung takes an infinitesimal step away, feigning like he's leaning into Minho instead.
"He is," you finally respond in an even tone, even though the word doesn't quite encapsulate it.
Your boyfriend is more than popular. He's a goddamn star. Everybody can see it, and so everyone wants a piece of him.
Once the boys' five minutes of fame are over, they slink off to a secluded area for retouches. The atmosphere and the lights always call for quick touch ups. A little bit of blush there. A brush of powder here.
Immediately, your team descends on them. Each boy has an assigned artist. When you make your way to Jisung, the shift is palpable.
Blink and you'll miss it. Jisung goes from his idol persona to somebody tired, somebody drained from all the interaction, to someone who is looking at the love of his life. His eyes light up. His shoulders ease. The corners of his lips tug upward in a fond, giddy grin, and you can't help the way you smile as well.
"Hey, you," he breathes, years worth of affection packed in a simple greeting.
"Hi," you say back. "Your lip gloss is smudged."
He chuckles, as though he's amused you're going straight to business. There's not much room for you to be the couple that you want to be. Not when you're in a public place, when he's still got an entire show to sit through and a stage to perform.
The two of you have managed to strike a balance, find your happy middle. Jisung toed the line more often than not, but he knew better than to push the envelope when it was your careers on the line.
He stays still as you go to fix his gloss. He physically can't help but tease, though, his mouth moving against the pads of your fingers.
"You would know a thing or two about smudging my gloss," he mumbles, his voice low enough for just the two of you to hear.
You shoot him a glare. He throws you an exaggerated wink.
This is the Jisung that you knew, the Jisung behind the scenes. Cheerful despite his exhaustion. Awkward in his flirtation but never any less sincere.
You rummage through your kit for concealer. It's not unusual for the artists to be well-acquainted with the boys, and so small talk was typically accepted. Your voice is perfectly casual and conversational as you comment, "You're getting good reception today."
He doesn't miss a beat. "Yeah, well, maybe it's 'cause I have a good makeup artist."
Your lips twitch like you're holding back a smile. Jisung looks like he already won an award for the night at the mere sight of it.
"Just 'good'?" you tease, working on reapplying concealer under his eyes.
"Mmm," he hums. "Meant to say 'the best'."
Even though you give him an eye roll in response, the two of you know that you revel in his affirmation. It's why he's so generous in doling it out.
Jisung sounds like he's treading gently as he question, "You okay, though?"
You return his question with a distracted one of your own. "Why wouldn't I be?" you ask, still focused on smoothing out some of the blemishes around his nose.
There's a moment where Jisung contemplates whether he should go on. You can tell by the way his teeth briefly sink into his lower lip, the way his eyebrows furrow for a moment. His next words are calculated, careful.
"The 'good reception' thing," he says slowly. "Is that about all the— uh, fans?"
The question is vague, but you've known Jisung for long enough to know what he's implying. A part of you melts at how ready your boyfriend is to give you assurance, even if both of you are on the clock.
"I don't blame them, of course." Your own words are matter-of-fact as you step back to survey your handiwork. Voice still pitched for just the two of you, you go on, "But you're mine."
Jisung looks like you've struck him between the eyes. It draws a laugh out of you. You're never outwardly possessive, not the type to kick up a fuss over his thousands of adoring fans or fellow idols, and so it's a bit of a rare treat.
"I'm—" he starts so sputter. "You're—"
"Jisung-ah!"
Chan's distant call barely snaps Jisung out of his flustered state. You have to give your boyfriend a light shove, just to encourage him to get moving.
"Later," you say. A promise.
He doesn't respond immediately. It seems like his brain has stopped working, and when it boots up, he manages a panicked squeak of, "Later!"
Jisung stumbles off, nearly tripping on his own laces. You put your hand to your mouth to hold back your giggles.
He will have to go face everyone else with his cool and collected persona. He will have to go be HAN of Stray Kids, will have to rap and joke and perform.
But there is also a Jisung that you love, a Jisung that's yours, and it's enough. It's more than enough.
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minisugakoobies · 8 months ago
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I Know | KSY
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Pairing: Hoshi x GNReader (no agab)
Genre: fluff, established relationship, dancer!AU
Rating: T
Warnings: drunk hoshi, grumpy woozi, hoshi is absolutely whipped for reader, this is honestly just very soft and sweet!
Word Count: 816
Disclaimers: none, other than I don’t own SVT - they just inspire me
Summary: Even when he's passed-out drunk, Hoshi still manages to amaze you with his love.
Text Prompt: boyfriend texted me "my love I am intoxicated" and then five minutes later, his best friend sends me a photo of him, passed out, phone in hand, and zoomed in on one of my selfies - tweet from himbowithnofear
A/N: I'm back with another installment of my "texts from svt" series. At some point I'll make a masterlist, but for now, please enjoy this short lil' fic about my favorite affectionate drunk, Hoshi. Fun fact, I've actually had this one finished for a while, but couldn't resist posting Mingyu first!
Unbeta'd as usual. I'd love to hear what you think (but please be kind I'm fragile 🥺) 💕
SVT Masterlist 💜 Main Masterlist
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“Please come get your man.”
Jihoon’s grumpy request is the first thing you hear when you answer your phone. 
“Hey, Jihoon, how are you?” you laugh, unsurprised by his opening plea. Ten minutes ago, you’d received the following message from your boyfriend:
LOML: my love, i am  intoxicatedd
And had been waiting to hear from Jihoon ever since. Though you were a little surprised that he was video calling you instead of just calling or texting.
“To be honest with you, I’m not great right now. And it’s all your boyfriend’s fault.” 
You can’t help but laugh loudly. Jihoon scowls. 
“Why are you upset with Soonyoung? I thought you guys were celebrating tonight.” 
“Because.” Jihoon flips the camera. There’s your man, all 178 cm of him, snoring his ass off in the corner booth. “He’s driving the other customers out of my bar.”
If you’re being honest, you’d been expecting this moment long before Jihoon called you. Soonyoung had gone out for drinks with several of his friends to celebrate one of them getting a new job, and you knew your lightweight boyfriend would feel compelled to try to keep up with those lushes as always. Not at their insistence, but out of his own desire. It was a point of pride for him. 
“Don’t worry. I’m on my way.” 
“Thank you. Please hurry.” Jihoon winces. “I know he calls himself a tiger, but he really snores like a damn bear.” 
You laugh again, about to disconnect, when Jihoon makes a sudden noise of delight. 
“Hold on,” he chuckles, and the screen zooms in on the phone still clutched in Soonyoung’s hand. “Do you see that?” 
It’s you looking back at you. From a photo, one that you recognize immediately as one of Soonyoung’s self-proclaimed favorites, from the weekend you’d spent at the beach last summer. It’s actually a wide shot of you standing in front of a gorgeous sunset, soft pink light dancing on your skin, and that knowledge makes you smile right now. Because it means that your drunk sap of a boyfriend zoomed in on your face, right before he passed out. Probably to dream about you. 
Soonyoung never did anything by halves. Not dancing. Not drinking. 
And definitely not loving you.  
“Come get your simp.” With a grin, Jihoon disconnects.
Tossing your phone into the front pocket of the oversized hoodie of Soonyoung’s that you’re wearing, you grab your keys and head for the door. 
It’s not a long drive to the bar. Inside, you make a beeline for the booth in the back, familiar with the space around you. It’s basically your second home, between being best friends with the owner, and dating (though he’d never admit it) his favorite patron. And, speak of the devil, there he is, the love of your life, head on the table, mouth open, rattling the glasses on the table with his powerful exhalations. 
Something else Soonyoung doesn’t do by halves - sleeping.
Jihoon nods at you from across the bar. All of Soonyoung’s other friends are nowhere to be found, likely having gone home once Jihoon reassured them you were on your way. 
Ignoring the common advice regarding sleeping tigers, you slide onto the bench and gently lay your hand on Soonyoung’s back to shake him awake. 
“Soonyoungieeeee, time to get up,” you trill sweetly into his ear, brushing his dark hair out of his face.
He cracks an eye open. “Baby?” he asks groggily. “Is it time to go to work?” 
“No, dingdong, it’s Saturday. And you’re at Jihoon’s, remember?” 
“Oh.” Soonyoung sits up, looks around. “Right. Oh!” His eyes get wide. “Baby! Those hyungs got me soooo drunk!” 
Laughing, you brush some chip crumbs off his cheek. “I know, ‘youngie.”
“Yeah.” Soonyoung’s eyes slip unfocused as he smiles. “Wait. You weren’t here and now you are.” He hiccups himself into a confused frown. “Why are you here?” 
“To take you home, dingdong.” Running your fingers through his hair again, you grin. 
Soonyoung looks at you and you swear you see his pupils turn into hearts. “You’re taking me home? With you? To your home?” 
You shake your head, gently tugging his beanie down over his ears. “How many shots did they make you take? Yes, you’re coming with me. To our apartment, where we both live.”
“We live together!” Soonyoung’s eyes disappear behind his cheeks as he grins. “You love me!” 
“Yes, I do,” you laugh, yanking on his arm to get him onto his feet. He wobbles slightly, so you duck under his arm, trying to steady him, but he interprets this in another way, cupping your face to pull you in for a slightly clumsy but rather passionate kiss. 
“I love you, too,” he whispers, nose bumping repeatedly into your cheek as you start to lead him towards the exit. 
“I know, ‘youngie,” you repeat with a soft smile. “I know.” 
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If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕
© 2024 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost. I do not allow translations of my work.
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