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reiderwriter · 7 months ago

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🔐 Password Protected 🔐

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.

#cmkinkbingo2024 #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds challenge #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds writing challenge

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egglain · 18 days ago

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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 :)

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.

banners by @strangergraphics!

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1pepsiboy · 8 months ago

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Car video with Matt Sturniolo - Fluff! (request)

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!*

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo request #fluff #request #car video #car video with matt

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muffinpink02 · 3 months ago

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Alexia with the new Cupra picture is giving me ✨sugar mommy who spoils you in every way✨ vibes

(fic?)

Spoilt Princess

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.

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso smut #fcb femení #alexia putellas smut #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas #woso x reader #woso imagine

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rockscanfly · 1 month ago

Text

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]

#Charles smith #Charles smith RDR2 #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead 2 #noshir dalal #dutch van der linde #Arthur Morgan #eagle flies #charthur

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redvdress · 2 months ago

Text

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.”

267 notes · View notes

capslocked · 1 year ago

Text

KINKVEMBER DAY: 7

[prompt: praise kink]

male reader x shen xiaoting

7k words

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."

#xiaoting smut #kep1er smut #kepler smut #kpop smut #male reader #capslocked kinkvember

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becauseicantthinkwritings · 1 year ago

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.

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

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #my writings #Alpha!Billy Russo #billy russo smut

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