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freelancearsonist · 2 days

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this is what it looks like, right before you fall

➔ Dieter Bravo x nonbinary!reader-insert!oc - series masterlist

➔ 5.3k words

➔ CHAPTER ONE // You meet the cast and vow yourself to professionalism as filming starts, but one particular costar tests your willpower.

➔ Chapter rated PG-13 for age gap (reader is 21, dieter is 45), kind of pervy!dieter but not in a malicious way/reader reciprocates, some impure thoughts on reader’s part, written with basically no knowledge of how the film industry actually works. [please let me know if i missed any warnings that should be included :)]

➔ this reader insert character is: unnamed, afab and nonbinary (has female anatomy and uses they/them pronouns), neurodivergent, latinx, 21 years old, an actor playing a female character. I’m trying to keep them a physically blank slate but it is mentioned that they have longer hair (past shoulder-length) for the role and they wear a bikini for the role at one point as well. They are mentioned to be shorter than Dieter.

Everyone in this room is a seasoned professional. They move with poise and calculation, like chess pieces assessing their next best move. It’s reminiscent of a muster of peacocks—plumage spread as they strut around and size each other up, each wondering who will win the desperate yet subtle battle for dominance. They mingle amongst themselves and make small talk; all of it is utterly meaningless.

This is your first professional cocktail party, and if this is how they’re all going to be you definitely won’t be attending any more.

But then again, maybe it isn’t always like this. Maybe this is just the mania of the world being deemed “post-pandemic” despite the very real crisis still lurking in the shadows. You can’t blame people for how they cope with isolation and despair, even if it seems a little over-dramatic to you personally.

There’s maybe one other person in this room who seems to realize how ridiculous this whole game is, but you’re too nervous to go over and talk to him.

He looks comfortable amongst the chaos. He doesn’t strut around seeking conversation like the others—he lets them come to him. And they do; despite how formidable he appears to you, they’re all drawn to him like magnets. His presence has its own center of gravity, and everyone around is merely a lost orbiter. He reels them in one by one, chats with them—maybe even insults them a little–and then spits them back out into the stratosphere of the room. And they keep coming back for more, because he’s intoxicating.

Dieter Bravo is fucking terrifying for a man who’s shirt buttons aren’t aligned to the proper holes.

“Hi.”

You hadn’t even noticed him approaching, as focused as you were on looking anywhere except him. His raspy voice makes you jump–makes your stomach lurch like a phantom step on the stairs. His dark eyes are penetrating in the way they stare at you over the rim of his sepia-tinted sunglasses. He’s looking through you, not at you. There’s something so thoroughly appraising about his gaze, as if he’s sizing you up.

“Hi,” you whisper back. You wonder if he’s like a bear, if you need to make yourself look bigger and scarier in order to appease him. But instead, you shrink–he makes you feel so small. Like you’re nothing but a speck of dust on the underside of one of his well-worn crocs; and maybe you are. Maybe you’re in way over your head here.

“I dunno if this is gonna work,” he hums, eyes lecherous and languid in the way they drag over your body. “You’re too hot to be my daughter.”

You choke on your drink, legitimately splutter and cough; of all the millions of things you imagined him saying in your mind, that wasn’t even in the realm of possibility. But he seems completely unfazed by your outburst, waiting patiently for you to regain the ability to breathe like a normal human being.

What can you even say to that? The hottest man in the room–albeit a man who’s more than twice your age–is passively hitting on you. And if he were anyone else, you would be outraged by how casually he does it. But he’s Dieter fucking Bravo, and you think you’d let him get away with just about anything; which says way more about you than it does about him.

Thankfully, he saves you from your swirling mind–redirects as if it was the most casual of passing comments. “Is this your first meet and greet?”

“No, I’ve left my house a couple times before.” It’s an unintentionally snarky comment, the kind that would normally get you in trouble. But Dieter actually laughs–well, it’s more of a snort than a laugh, but its purpose is clear–and you wonder if maybe this whole situation isn’t as bad as it seemed a few short minutes ago.

“First time in front of a camera?” He asks, absentmindedly swirling the neon green liquid–absynthe? antifreeze?–that resides in the crystal glass his right hand cradles. “I tried to find you on IMDb but nothing came up.”

“I’ve done some commercial work,” you admit, feeling a little sheepish; and a little caught off guard, flattered even, that he’s been researching you. “Nothing like this, though.”

“How’d you get the role?” The question sounds deeper than it really is–distrustful, in a way.

You simply shrug. “I guess my audition was good.”

“I guess it was.” You don’t know exactly what he’s insinuating, but you feel like you should be offended. There’s no malice or aggression left in his dark eyes, though–whatever you’ve shown him, he’s liked it. “We’re going to have fun.”

“We are?”

“Mhm.” He takes a sip of his drink, and you can tell he’s trying not to make a face as the radioactive-looking liquid meets his tongue. “We should rehearse lines. In your room. Build our chemistry.”

There isn’t a singular cell in your brain that believes there’s no underlying motive to the invitation. And even yet, you accept. You kind of get the sense that he wouldn’t accept no as an answer, anyway.

He nods his acknowledgement, and then just as quickly as he had appeared, he’s melting seamlessly back into the buzz of your fellow costars.

You don’t realize how hard your heart is beating until he’s not standing over you anymore. With a sip of your drink, you do everything you can to will your breathing back to normal. There’s no reason a simple man should have such an effect on you.

But there’s really nothing simple about Dieter Bravo. He’s imposing. He’s been in this industry for as long as you’ve been alive and it shows in the way he carries himself. There’s confidence in his strut, an undeniable carefreeness to his appearance. He’s a professional; he’s everything you hope to someday be.

You promised yourself that you wouldn’t act up over the star-strewn cast, and you’ve held true to that promise as of yet. But Dieter Bravo poses a challenge. Especially with the shameless flirting and the way his eyes linger on your body, you feel yourself becoming more and more starstruck with each passing moment you’re in his presence.

You’re suddenly desperate for this thing to be over with so you can go back to your room and unwind. Your nerves are taught like an over-tuned guitar and liable to snap at any moment.

Dinner goes as smoothly as it can, albeit slowly. You’re stuck at the end of the table, sandwiched between two other actors who are around your age and clearly know each other from the way they keep talking to each other through you; and Dieter is at the opposite end, which is both a blessing and a curse. At least you’re not close enough to smell the warm, woodsy spice of his cologne—it lingered in your nostrils for a solid five minutes even after he walked away from you earlier—but you’re far enough away that he has a good angle to stare at you.

And stare he does. You can feel his eyes tracking every move you make. He doesn’t even look away when your eyes catch him; the cocky bastard smirks. He looks you right in the eyes over the rims of his sunglasses while the corner of his mouth tilts up and he has to know that it goes straight to your core.

The minutes pass like molasses with his attention on you, and it feels like a weight’s been lifted off your shoulders when it’s finally time to turn in for the night.

You didn’t get a chance to introduce yourself to half of the cast because you were so busy being an unimposing wallflower, but you’ll worry about that tomorrow. For now, you’re walking to your room as fast as your legs can possibly carry you.

Shooting starts in the morning, and you really need a good night’s rest. You want to start strong and prove yourself. But you stay up into the wee hours of the morning anyway, laying in your oversized hotel bed and staring at the ceiling, wondering if Dieter’s going to come knock on your door to “rehearse lines” like he suggested.

He doesn’t, and you don’t know why you feel so disappointed about it.

You wake up from your four hours of sleep with a little bit clearer of a mind, surprisingly. Dieter’s hot and he’d be a once-in-a-lifetime lay, but you’re playing his daughter in this show. How seriously do you want to be taken in this industry? Because banging the actor who plays your father in your first serious project is decidedly not the route to being taken seriously as a movie star; in fact, it’s the kind of scandal that could end your career before it even starts.

You shower, do your basic morning skincare routine, get dressed, and head to set. All the while, you chant your new mantra: Dieter Bravo is off limits no matter how badly you want to play right into his hands. His big hands. His big meaty hands that you want all over your–

“Well hello!”

The woman who greets you as you walk into the hair and makeup tent is way too chipper for 7AM.

“Hi,” you say, a little shyer than you mean to sound; at least you can blame it on the early hour and the fact you haven’t had any coffee yet.

“I’m Cynthia, I use she/her pronouns. It’s nice to meet you.” Cynthia is blonde and tall, almost imposingly so. She’s sturdily built and graceful–there’s an almost feline quality to her movements. She’s gorgeous, and not just because of her perfectly styled hair and makeup.

You take a deep breath before giving her your introduction. This is something you’ve contemplated a lot prior to arriving, and even more so in the long, isolated hours of quarantine in your room. She/her doesn’t do the job, and you’ve known it for a while; but you let people use them anyway, because it’s easier to appease them than to constantly be correcting everyone. After intensive consideration, though, you want to go into this new chapter of your life as your true self.

You take another deep breath and then you give her your name, followed by “they/them.”

She smiles so warmly, but she doesn’t comment on it. No, “oh!” or “that’s so brave!” or any of the other thousand responses you’ve gotten to providing the pronouns you’re most comfortable with.

She guides you to her chair and she starts chatting away about anything and everything but your gender identity; that simple, wordless acceptance is such a refreshing change of pace from what you’re used to that you choke up a little bit.

You manage to swallow it down without her noticing, thankfully. You’re going to be dealing with Cynthia every day for the foreseeable future and you really don’t want her thinking you’re a loser.

You look like a completely different person when she’s done with you. Your entire face is coated with a thin layer of makeup that evens your skin tone and shrinks your pores. There’s thin, symmetrical wings of eyeliner on your eyelids, and your hair is curled in perfect blow-out waves. The outfit pulls the whole thing together: a Guns & Roses t-shirt underneath an unbuttoned long-sleeved flannel and jean shorts that hug your waist tightly but taper off around your thighs.

Cynthia’s a miracle worker, truly. You look exactly like the freshly-graduated, soul-searching, 1970’s time capsule misfit teen you’re supposed to be playing for eight episodes worth of HBO drama. It’s like meeting Charlotte “Charlie” Herrera for the first time, except you are her.

It’s a lot easier to get into character when you look the part; although becoming someone else has never been something you’ve necessarily struggled with. You take a deep, steadying breath; and then suddenly, you’re a different person. It’s that simple.

You’ve had some minor success with acting prior to landing this role. You always landed leads in school plays, and you shone in the silly little YouTube videos your high school friends liked to make. Acting comes naturally to you, and when people ask how you do it, what’s your method, you don’t really know how to answer. You just do it.

You’re not humble enough to try to deny the fact that you’re talented. The executive producer called you within half an hour of you submitting your audition tape for this role, and he didn’t stop complimenting you for another half an hour. There’s just some kind of special compartmentalization your brain accomplishes when you have a character to play; you flick off your “you” switch, and flick on your “character” switch.

You’re sure your therapist would say that it’s easy for you because of your natural proclivity for escapism. Your parents would probably just say you’re a psychopath. Whatever it is, you have a knack for acting, and it shows. It’s as easy and natural as breathing.

There’s a flurry of activity around you as you settle on your mark: an unevenly-stuffed floral print couch in the living room of your character’s shoebox home. It’s small, but it feels lived in. There’s photos in mismatched frames of you and Dieter on the walls and it puts a weird sensation in the pit of your stomach; it takes you aback how realistic and natural the photoshop is for set pieces that probably won’t even be in most frames of the show. There’s eclectic trinkets and pieces of period-accurate paraphernalia on shelves and side tables. You could almost believe you’ve been transported back in time if you ignore the huge cameras and empty windows.

Your costar walks in and suddenly the nerves hit you in full force.

This is it; this is your big moment. This needs to be flawless because first impressions stick. Especially to someone like Dalton Amari, who’s been acting since he was in diapers. Even though he’s barely a year older than you, he’s a bonafide star. He’s got an IMDb filmography that’s a mile long and he’s won countless awards. You need to be on your game because you’ll be damned if you’re going to disappoint someone like him.

He’s handsome and imposingly tall as he towers over you, dark-haired and dark-eyed with blindingly white teeth that contrast the light brown tone of his skin. You have friends who swoon every time he posts on Instagram; it’s surreal, being in the same room as him like this, with him smiling at you like you’re important.

“Hi again,” he greets as he sits next to you, body moving closer to you at the instruction of the director.

You feel a little more at ease like this, despite how formidable a scene partner he is career-wise; he’s the kindest of all the costars you met last night. He was one of the few people who actually made an effort to approach you, after all–introduced himself with that charming smile and everything.

“Hi.”

“You look great,” he says with a noticeable scan of your figure. “Just like my grandma used to.”

It’s the exact kind of icebreaker you need to completely melt the tension; you laugh, and he laughs with you.

The director–a man named Jeff with a graying beard thick enough to clothe a family of four–walks over with a smile on his face. “This is the exact kind of chemistry I want onscreen, okay? Nice and light, make it look effortless.”

“Sure thing, boss man.” Dalton’s long, blown-out hair flops into his face when he nods, and you can tell it irritates him. “God, how do people put up with this shit? Remind me to never grow my hair out again.”

“You’re telling me,” you respond with a laugh–your hair is even longer than his.

This first scene is surprisingly easy. He’s so talented that it rubs off on you and builds up your confidence until you’re commanding the scene effortlessly. You lounge on the couch with him and lament over approaching adulthood, recounting the glory days of your characters’ shared high school experiences now that they’re over for good. You feel like you’re really there, in that time capsule moment of late May 1976, shooting the shit with your high school sweetheart boyfriend. It’s easy to forget that you know what happens between Charlie and Trevor, Dalton’s character; that the story has already been told all the way through. Right now, in this moment with his arm around your shoulders and your hand on his thigh, it’s just beginning. You’re three years younger than you really are, and you’re in love with this boy who’s looking at you like you hung the very stars from the sky.

“Cut!” Jeff calls, and you pull away from Dalton’s loose grip. “That was perfect you two, keep it up!”

Just like that you’re you again–not Charlie, not Trevor’s girlfriend, not anyone else. The transition is that simple and seamless.

You catch a glimpse of your smiling face next to Dieter’s in a brass-framed photo, and you feel that weird, twisting sense of complication again. For a blissful moment in time, as Charlie, life was without uncertainty. When you’re her, there’s a script and a set destiny that you know will play out exactly how it’s supposed to. When you’re you, you don’t know what’s going to come next. Maybe that’s why acting has always been easy or you. You crave the predictability and certainty that comes with a scripted ending. You know how the final page plays out, and you know exactly what happens along the way.

Life, unfortunately, isn’t that simple.

“Hey,” Dalton says, voice a little softer than the voice he uses when he’s Trevor. “You did great. Don’t be nervous.”

You don’t know how he knows you’re so lost in thought–probably the incessant bouncing of your left knee.

“Thanks,” you murmur in return, but you can’t meet his eyes. You’ve never been particularly good at taking compliments, even if they’re deserved.

“Alright, it’s class time!” Jeff interrupts with a clap of his hands. He’s notorious for his strict scheduling. “Wardrobe!”

You have two more scenes today and they somehow, miraculously, go just as well as the first. There’s no sign of Dieter, but you knew before you even got out of bed that he wasn’t on the call sheet for today. Tomorrow, however, is a different story. There are four scenes on the schedule, and the last one of the day is just you and him.

You’re glad you have some time to prepare for it, because you know that no matter how hard you try, you’re going to be self-conscious around him. He’s not just attractive or charismatic or any of the other things you’ve come to view him as; he’s something of a role model. You want to impress him, but you also want to learn from him; and you really, really don’t want to make a fool of yourself anywhere in his general vicinity. It might be easier said than done with those big brown chocolate-chunk eyes of his following your every move.

You adjourn to your hotel room and order room service, “untitled episode one” script in your lap. You’ve read it through about a million times, but tonight you pay special attention to your first scene with Dieter. You need it to be as flawless as today’s scenes went. You need him to be as impressed as Dalton was, because his opinion means more to you than anyone’s.

You also pay special attention to that particular scene because it’s going to be a real test of your abilities; looking up into that handsome face and remembering your lines the way you’re supposed to is going to be your crucible.

You check the time around midnight and decide it’s late enough; pushing yourself any further could just serve to undo the effort you’ve put in. A certain Instagram notification on the screen catches your eye: “@bravo69 started following you”. It’s Dieter’s verified Instagram account, and the notification is from two minutes ago.

You stay up for longer than you care to admit ruminating on the fact that Dieter Bravo is scrolling through your Instagram at midnight. Maybe, just maybe, you’ve gotten under his skin the way he’s gotten under yours.

You’re trying so desperately not to get your hopes up, but it’s hard not to.

Cynthia in hair and makeup can tell you’re not sleeping well, even without the way you keep drifting off and jolting awake in her chair. She slathers caffeine under your eyes and does her best to reverse the zombie state you’re starting to transform into.

She gives you a look a lot like a reproachful mother might. “Are you really losing sleep over this? You were fantastic yesterday!”

There’s just something about her that makes you so comfortable–like she’s been a friend you’ve known for years rather than a coworker you only just met yesterday.

“Yeah, but what if it was a fluke and I do horrible today?”

She actually scoffs, like it’s the most impossible thing she’s ever heard, and her smile is so wonderfully disarming. “If you always think like that, you’re never gonna get a damned wink in your life.”

“I’ve never been very good at sleeping anyway,” you admit with a scornful little huff.

“Well, you’d better try your best. There’s only so much I can do for you.” She gives you a cartoon-worthy wink as she looks at you in the mirror, and it makes you loosen up considerably.

She’s right. You’re here, and confidence is key at this stage. If you act like the crew is taking some big chance on you because you’re a new talent, they’re going to see it that way too. If you act like you belong here, it’ll make the whole thing that much easier.

Fake it ‘til you make it, they say. You suppose whoever “they” are, they’re actually right in this situation.

Today’s scenes are a little more important to the plot of the show. Yesterday you worked on character establishment and setting the environment; today is all about the inciting incident. It all starts with pool party part two.

Wardrobe stuffs you in a period-typical orange patterned bikini, carefully selected to not be too revealing while still giving the audience something to appreciate; it’s eye roll worthy, but underneath the corniness of it there’s something kind of exciting about potentially being a sex symbol.

It’s the beginning of summer in the Midwest–at least on screen. In reality it’s late July, and it’s sweltering outside at the little time capsule brick house production rented for this scene. There are teen-aged extras all over the place pretending to be celebrating the end of another school year, all perfectly styled to 1976 as they splash about in the pool or grab vintage-looking Coke bottles from a cooler next to the property’s backyard shed.

Dalton is here, bare-chested and abs gleaming, draped over a poolside lounger. You’re directed into his arms, and the press of his skin is a little uncomfortable. You’ve never particularly liked being this close to strangers, especially when wearing so little, but there’s no backing out now. Every scantily-clad inch of your skin is pressed against his, his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you close.

Charlie’s best friend, Amara–played by none other than Kelsie Burton, an actress who’s been in just about every coming-of-age flick in the past five years–sits on the lounger next to yours. She’s drop dead gorgeous, with freckled pale skin and long, shiny black hair. She’s the archetype, and you feel like a complete foil in every way. You have to take a deep breath and remember that it’s not a competition–and even if it was, you’re technically winning.

The dialogue is a little awkward in this scene, but it’s on purpose. The three characters have been close friends since middle school, but things have shifted ever since Charlie and Trevor started dating. Amara feels like a third wheel, and it’s not exactly unreasonable.

This is the beginning, the first push of the boulder down the steep hill of plot. The three of you sit together pondering what life will be like now that high school is over and discussing ways to make the summer the most memorable it can be. A challenge is made, an oath taken. This summer is going to be the most unforgettable one of all.

You shoot a few takes of the inciting conversation, and then it’s on to the fun part–shooting some filler scenes of pool party revelry.

It’s easy to forget you’re not a fresh-faced teenager anymore like this. The three of you splash around in the water with your “classmates” and laugh and play games and have fun. It doesn’t feel like there’s cameras or crewmembers or anyone else around but you and your friends. And that’s really what they feel like–friends. Maybe they’re both just good actors, but a hopeful little part of you wonders if you might actually be able to build meaningful relationships with them.

The fun can’t last forever though, and the scene wrap comes before you’re ready for it–partially because you’re enjoying yourself and don’t want it to end, but partially because you know what comes next. Dieter.

You’re shuttled back to set wrapped in a towel, still soaking wet but smiling despite the nerves twisting in your gut. Even if this last scene for the day goes to shit, at least you had an incredible morning.

You’re turning a corner on your way to wardrobe when you run smack into someone tall and sturdy. There’s a force to the sudden collision that makes you grunt and lose your balance (and towel), but big, strong hands quickly come to steady you.

You look up, ready to fumble out an apology, when you find a set of deep brown eyes and a handsome, smirking face.

Whatever you were going to say dies at the base of your throat when you notice the way Dieter’s eyes drag over your soaking wet, bikini-clad form. You can’t help but let yourself do the same; this is the first time you’ve seen him in character, after all.

He seems even broader and bigger than the first time you met him, decked out in this khaki-colored sheriff’s uniform. It hugs his soft yet sturdy frame perfectly, only complemented by the heavy duty belt and the star-shaped badge pinned to his chest. His shaggy hair has been trimmed down to a respectable length, and his signature patchy-stubbly beard has been reduced to a simple, handsome mustache. He’s a time capsule of a man, and he looks so fucking good.

“Is that what they’ve got you wearing for our scene?” He asks, interrupting your moment of observation. His hands are still firmly on your waist despite the fact that your balance has long since been regained.

“N-no,” you stumble over your own tongue. “I’m on my way to change right now.”

“Damn,” he mumbles–he actually sounds disappointed.

It’s been long enough, and his hands are still on your waist. They’re so warm, so big. You hate having your bare skin touched like this, but… it’s nice. His hands are firm and strong and capable and you’re not thinking of him in a very fatherly capacity at all right now. He’s so close you can feel the heat radiating off of him, so close that you could just–

You don’t even realize you’ve stopped breathing until he finally takes his hands off you and you have to practically gasp for breath. Even as he backs out of your personal space, he knows the effect he’s had on you–if the smirk that takes over his face is any indication, at least.

“Orange is a good color on you,” he murmurs as his dark eyes give you one last once-over.

“R-really?” It’s never been a color you’ve particularly favored, but flattery goes far with you.

He hums in response, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Have you really made this much of an impression on him, or is he just really desperate? Surely he can’t be that deprived–he could have anyone he wanted at the blink of an eye.

“I’ll see you on set,” he vows. And then, just as quickly as he appeared, he’s gone.

It’s so fucking difficult to get a read on him that you feel like you’re in a tailspin. Nevertheless, you try not to let it bother you too much as you get to wardrobe and finally change into some real clothes. Dieter Bravo is off limits, you remind yourself; but it doesn’t sound nearly as convincing this time.

“Where have you been all night?” His voice is stern, commanding despite the softness to his tone. He sounds almost dangerous–exactly like a cop and a protective father should.

“At that end of the year pool party over at the Clevelands’, the one I told you about,” you answer easily, gently. You’re on thin ice, and you’re stepping lightly. “With Amara.”

“And Trevor.” There’s accusation in his voice–Charlie hasn’t told him about her relationship, but fathers always know.

“He was there, yeah.”

“How many times have I told you I don’t want you around him?” Dieter looks up at you from where he’s spread lazily in his cozy living room armchair, eyes even darker than usual in the low night-coded lighting of the living room set. His suspicion of Trevor isn’t unwarranted–you’ve read the script in its entirety, you know every little facet of every single character. But Charlie doesn’t know what you know, so you have to take Dieter’s caution as nothing more than the helicopter parenting typical of a teenage girl’s single father.

“I’m an adult, dad,” you remind him. “I can make my own decisions, choose my own friends.”

“You’re still a little girl,” he murmurs. The fight’s gone from him–he looks now as if a long day of law enforcement has caught up to him all at once. “You always will be.”

It sparks the exact kind of anger within you that the script calls for, and most of it isn’t even fabricated. You don’t want him–Dieter, not Sheriff Herrera–to see you like that. What if that’s all this is now? What if he can’t see you as anything else but a child to him? Not that it matters. He’s off limits, you’ve reminded yourself of that a million times. What he thinks of you shouldn’t matter.

“You have to let me grow up eventually,” you growl before storming down the hall to your final mark.

Jeff calls the scene, and you reemerge a little flushed and feeling silly for how real your emotions were in that moment.

“That was perfect!” He tells you with a beaming smile on his face. “Keep that up and we’re gonna get ahead of schedule. Dieter, you were great too.”

“Not as great as them,” the older actor says with a nod of his head in your direction. “You’re a generous scene partner.”

“How so?” You’re still a little flushed, but you’re praying he can’t tell.

“You give off a lot of emotion,” he explains. “Gives me a lot to work with.”

“Oh.” You’ve really got to get better at taking compliments. Was that even a compliment?

You’re so far in your head that you don’t notice the awkward pause until he takes it upon himself to start leaving the soundstage. Desperate for any way to salvage the moment, you address his broad, retreating back and say, “thanks, Dieter.”

He turns his head, looks at you over his shoulder, and fucking winks. “Anytime, honey.”

And then he leaves, like he didn’t just put a fucking puddle in your underwear.

Dieter Bravo is off limits. Dieter Bravo is off limits. Dieter Bravo is off limits. You chant it to yourself the entire way back to your hotel room, but it gets less and less convincing with each repetition.

Would it really be so bad if he wasn’t off limits?

➔ beta: @futuraa-free, @ozarkthedog, @beskarandblasters, and @fhatbhabie (thank u so much my loves <3)

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hey-august · 21 hours

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➜ A continuation of this story, based on this wonderful request!

Word count: ~1.3k

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, buggy x amab!reader 🍆, no use of Y/N, anal sex, briefly fantasizing about other people during sex, loosely implied shanks x buggy

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Another night, another performance complete. Buggy steps out of his bathroom to empty chambers. The stage was reset in his absence with neatened bedsheets. The only lingering signs of your presence are a fresh glass of water and pain relievers on the bedside table.

That’s how each show ends. You never stayed longer than needed, and Buggy never asked. He ignored your only offer back in the beginning and that wordless decision established the roles you each played during these trysts.

Buggy sits on the edge of his empty bed to accept the small comforts you leave behind. The medicine helps alleviate the soreness spreading through his body and blooming on his skin, but it doesn’t work for the ache that lives deeper inside. A longing that is only abated when you’re pouring yourself into him while his closed eyes chase fantasies.

It’s not long before another act is scheduled and your skills are needed. Your mouth is hot on his skin, leaving a trail of wet kisses and false promises that are full of nostalgia and memories of the sea. His fingers are threaded in your hair, following your journey and afraid to be left behind. Huffs and puffs of pleasure edge into hungry requests for the scene to progress.

“P-please. I need more.”

As your presence recedes, the ache of desire grows. A thread of tension is pulled taut as you line yourself up against Buggy’s body. His ocean-colored eyes flutter open in both anticipation and confirmation. Spit and precum aid your length sliding into the pirate and splitting him open for the first time tonight.

Unprepared for the confining tightness, you hiss sharply. Buggy watches through half-lidded eyes as you throw your head back. This is different. This isn’t in the script. The improvisation changes everything and pulls him from the immersion. He can’t hear his fantasies in your voice. The fullness isn’t a memory or a desire he’s chasing. It’s you. Just you.

Frowning, Buggy squeezes his eyes shut to force you out and lock himself in. He visits each sensation - the right hand gripping his hip, his leg resting on a shoulder, hot breath wafting across his sweat-coated chest, the jolt from each rough thrust. You say the words from his imagination and from his past, but there’s a divide. A chasm that he’s sinking into.

“Hey, you still with me?”

A voice cuts through the darkness. It’s full of kindness and worry, tones that Buggy hasn’t heard in this bed before. Opening his eyes, Buggy is faced with an expression mirroring those feelings.

Buggy nods and looks away, embarrassed that you can read him so easily.

“Should we take a quick break?” you offer while running a hand along the leg hoisted over your shoulder and massaging the muscles. His body relaxes under the soothing touch.

Licking his dry lips, Buggy nods again. “Yeah,” he responds hoarsely.

You pull out slowly and lower Buggy’s leg onto the bed before finding a spot in the rumpled sheets. A heat increases in Buggy’s chest, reacting to your thoughtful movements.

You’re always mindful of the person you share this space with and it ignites a hot flame that the pirate struggles with. It makes him uncomfortable. You make him uncomfortable. That’s why he prefers when you’re someone else. It’s easier for him to pretend he’s fucking a fantasy.

And yet, the burning desire continues to consume him. Even when you take him past the brink of exhaustion, there’s still a part of him that’s unsatisfied. A part of him that’s curious. Afraid, but interested.

Buggy rolls onto his side, facing away from his confusion.

“Do you want to try something different, captain?” Your hesitant voice drifts from the side of the bed. Again, full of a softness that manages to compress Buggy’s chest.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

A change could stitch the rift Buggy was falling into. Maybe the issue isn’t that he can't picture someone else, but that he’s chasing the wrong illusion.

A hand reaches over to brush a few strands of hair stuck to the side of Buggy’s sweaty forehead. The unexpected touch is met with a small flinch and a held breath.

“Well…who are you thinking about?”

The answer comes quickly and without thought, carried on the stuck breath that needed release.

“You.”

The bed shifts as you prop yourself up to look at the backside of the man beside you. The one who continues to avoid looking at you.

“Captain, ar-”

“Buggy.”

Silence hangs heavy in the air. You never referred to him without the title, unless you were bringing a different relationship to life.

Repeating the two syllables of his name pulls a soft sound from the captain. An enticing noise.

Your body wraps around Buggy’s, holding him to his confession. Each twitch and throb of your cock is pressed against his lower back as it cries for how badly you want him. A need that is stroked by his sneaky hand.

“Oh f-fuck,” you whine against his shoulder while bucking into his touch.

The sincerity in your voice is bewitching. It tugs at Buggy - peeling back the veil, plucking at the strings in his chest, and winding up his thread of tension. Following the lure, Buggy shifts against your body and eases himself onto your erection.

His sigh is echoed by yours dancing across his damp skin. You move slowly and intentionally, drawing out more sounds with each agonizing drag. Suckling kisses move along Buggy’s shoulder and up his neck.

“H-harder…”

A small head tilt grants you more access to his skin. Smooth and unmarked, until your teeth leave small indents and your lips bring bruises. Buggy grinds into you harder with each lingering reminder left on his body. Each one laying claim and burning with honest desire.

“Fuck, I want you so badly,” you pant. Grabbing his hip, you pull his body to meet yours and thrust your feelings deep into Buggy. “Say my name. Please, say m-my name.”

A high-pitched whine is spun into the most wonderful version of your name. Buggy repeats it, letting the taste coat his tongue and pour into him.

Anticipating the impending flood, you pump Buggy’s dick with jerky movements that smear precum all over his lower stomach and your hand.

“Cap- Buggy… Buggy, I want you to come for me. I need you to come for me.”

Desperation drips from your voice, as it drips from the head of his cock, before exploding with white hot jets.

“I’m coming, fuck- you’re making m-me come,” Buggy grunts while bucking against the sensations on both sides.

The mess is everywhere. Some clings to his abdomen, some seeps into the bed, and the remainder is coaxed to dribble on your hand. It’s not quite enough, though. Moving your hand up his body, sliding on sweat and cum, you hold him tighter and chase your release. A real release, not one that mimics someone else’s joy.

The sound of your name falling from Buggy’s painted lips fills the room and your head as you empty your balls. Your thrusts grow erratic and sloppy, disrupted by each pulse shooting deep inside Buggy.

Rubbing your face on the back of his shoulder, you press soothing kisses to each mark and murmur soft appreciations and unnecessary apologies.

Your heart beats heavily, the sound of exertion and uncertainty reverberating off of Buggy’s back. The hand wrapped around his body feels the same tempo beating in him. Before you could pull away, Buggy wraps his hand around yours.

“Don’t go,” he whispers.

You don’t answer. For a painful moment, Buggy wonders if you were going to ignore his request, just as he did once before. The sting is eased when you nod against the back of his head and tighten your embrace.

Finally, the persistent longing that had been lodged in Buggy for so long was gone. And in its absence was you. Just you.

#buggy smut #buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x you #x reader #buggy the clown #buggy op #opla buggy #one piece buggy #buggy the clown smut #one piece smut

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changbeens · 2 years

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🌼 time to spread some happiness! give the person you rb'd this from a compliment to brighten their day 🌼

#tagging this with #kpop game #because thats where all my games go #no need to do this for me just spread it so other people can play

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mokeonn · 2 months

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Before I go to sleep I leave you all with this piece of advice: sometimes you don't actually have to answer big political questions, sometimes you can just say "I am not smart enough to know that, I just know the small things I do to help." Like you can often times completely avoid making a fool of yourself if you just say you don't know.

#simon says #to explain here and not in a reblog:#sometimes when you try to explain big picture solutions you're gonna sound dumb #you might not have done enough research #you might not have a rebuttal to a counter argument #you might not be articulate enough to explain why you think this #sometimes you gotta take a step back and give the simple solution. the one man solution #you do what you can to fight against the problem #you talk to people to help spread awareness and how to fight the bad problem #and you vote and invite others to vote for bigger steps towards solving the problem #like you can talk about theory and how you believe we need to do a huge drastic thing to solve and issue #but people will disagree and argue til you're blue in the face #they'll poke and prod until you mess up or lose your temper and use it against you #and you'll feel dumb and they'll learn nothing #sometimes the best thing to do is step away from the big picture and just say 'idk what the solution is I just know the things I can do“#sometimes you gotta admit you're not a scientist/expert and you can't answer that #i used this while talking with my Dad tonight #he brought up our climate crisis and space travel as a possible solution #and I said I think that's just addressing the symptom and not the cause and we need to care for our Earth now #and he asked me what solutions I think would fix it #and knowing my incredibly smart Dad who is articulate and ready to throw rebuttles at a moments notice to play devils advocate #and my past experience in struggling in this topic with him before #i just told him I didn't know. all i knew is the little things I can and do do to help #and that hopefully by spreading the word and habits and encouraging others to vote for those bigger solutions I could help make a change #but all I really could do is the little things I have control over #and the topic became much less stressful about the little things we have control over #like planting native plants and recycling and adopting habits that are healthier to our planet #which was 100% more preferable to if I tried to give a big solution. because I would reveal i didn't have all the knowledge needed to argue #and my articulation would make me sound like a stupid kid who only thinks they know what's best #so yeah I basically suggest that if you dont wanna feel like shit after debating someone just step away from the big picture for a moment

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lionblaze03-2 · 1 month

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idk about anyone else but for me /personally/ assigning any of the wof dragon tribes a single equivalent human culture or accent feels kind of weird or off. Unless you’re like. Specifically from that culture and know what you’re interpreting

like sure the ‘nightwings are British because they’re voiced that way in the audiobooks’ is funny at first but I once saw a post break down the accents by tribe and assign sandwings a Nigerian accent. Which IMMEDIATELY makes the fact that they’re commonly rogues and thieves in the story not a fun cowboy thing but a vaguely racist thing suggesting that all Nigerian people scam and steal, which. Given the ‘Nigerian prince’ thing is already a stereotype, well…-

and it definitely isn’t JUST that, I’m not trying to call a single person out. But these kind of 1-1 correlations lead to results like this 9/10 times and it just feels strange. Just mix stuff together. Mash ideas from different places into one. Don’t make the dragons a 1-1 parallel to a specific human culture because then any story you tell that may connect to a stereotype of that culture will come off really, really bad

#Instead of they have ___ accent #Say. Well their accent is closest to like this one with a hint of this one. And it varies throughout the regions of the kingdom #Because that is not saying something about a specific ‘kind’ of person. It’s just taking your favorite ideas and playing with them #This is specifically why everything in righteous pines has like 2 religions and then random other cultural factors thrown in #+ the source material and stuff I just made up for me that isn’t from ANY culture #Because I am NOT gonna get caught stereotyping a specific group and be seen as spreading hate #wings of fire #also I don’t mean like. If you’re specifically from a culture and paying informed homage to your heritage #I mean just. Like. White teenagers picking random races based on general regions for the tribes #Like I probably would’ve done when I was 12-14. Like a fool #anyway this isn’t really an angry post at all it’s just kind of a vague opinion #I’m not genuinely mad at anyone who does this I’m just like. Wary for them. Like #Look out girl you’re gonna get cancelled you need to be more CAREFUL #Because I’m 90% sure most people don’t MEAN it to be racist. It’s just. Internalized ideas or general assumptions or something. Uninformed.#But you cannot be uninformed or you will get got. Inform yourselves folks!!! Play safe!! With many mixed ideas!#lion’s lair #invalid white persons opinion by the way. I’m downright vampiric so you can entirely disregard this post if that affects its meaning #My icks literally do not matter in this situation. I know that. I’m just ATTEMPTING to read the room #And not hurt anybody #👍?

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gyudons · 7 months

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despicable

updates as of 22 oct

Travis Dermott knew that he would draw attention with his actions in the Coyotes’ home opener against the Anaheim Ducks at Mullett Arena on Saturday. The Arizona defenseman just hoped that the spotlight might shine on the issue that he was addressing, not on him.

“You don’t really want to go against rules that are put in place by your employer, but there’s some people who took some positive things from it,” Dermott said. “That’s kind of what I’m looking to impact.

“You want to have everyone feel included and that’s something that I have felt passionate about for a long time in my career. It’s not like I just just jumped on this train. It’s something that I’ve felt has been lacking in the hockey community for a while. I feel like we need supporters of a movement like this; to have everyone feel included and really to beat home the idea that hockey is for everyone.”

“I won’t lie,” said Dermott, who is playing on a one-year, two-way contract. “From the outside, it’s easy to see that I’m putting my career on the line for something. I definitely went through some emotional ups and downs that night, not regretting anything by any means, but I’d love to have maybe done a couple of steps a little different by making sure that everyone was aware of what was going on before I did it.

“I don’t want to put my teammates or my coaches or my GMs or the equipment managers in any kind of bad light when it’s their job to kind of look out for something like this happening. It was definitely something that I did just by myself and was prepared to kind of deal with whatever repercussions the league decides to push towards that. I’m not going to back off and say that this battle is won, but we’re going to find better ways to do it.”

As Dermott noted, LGBTQ+ inclusion is an issue that he has supported for a long time. Without getting into specifics, Dermott said the issue is personal for him because it impacts people close to him.

“I’d be lying if I said I haven’t shed tears about this on multiple occasions,” he said. “So yeah, it’s something I’m definitely very passionate about.

“I’ve met a lot of people that from the outside, it looks like they have everything going right in their life and they have a smile on their face every time they talk to you. But sometimes when we get closer to people and get comfortable enough for them to open up to you, you can see that there’s some pretty dark stuff happening to some good people. It doesn’t take too many times encountering something like that for it to really change someone.

“I’ve been blessed to have some of those opportunities put in front of me to really change my view of what being a good person means; what being a good father and a good example and role model means going forward. You really see how people are hurting and it’s because of a system that maybe no one’s intentionally trying to be malicious about, but until you’ve really had that first-person experience seeing people hurting from it right in front of you, it’s tough to kind of take steps.”

It would be a surprise if the league handed down any sort of punishment. The optics alone would add to the public relations damage that the original ban created. Even so, Dermott reiterated his desire to bring the entire franchise into the fold before he takes similar actions in the future, but he also made it clear that he will not be silenced on the topic.

“It’s not like I’m shutting up and going away,” he said. “I know more questions are going to be coming. We’re just going to be as prepared as we can be to just spread love. That’s the thing. It’s gay pride that we’re talking about, but it could be men’s health. It could be any war. It’s just wanting world peace. Everyone’s got to love each other a little bit more.

“Like my parents said growing up, ‘How awesome would it be to be the guy that people look up to?’ That’s what really hit home when I was a kid, especially from my mom. You want to grow up and be that guy. You want to be the guy that’s having the impact on kids like NHL players had on you. If they had been racist or bigoted, that’s going to have an effect on you.

“With how many eyes are on us, especially with the young kids coming up in the new generation, you want to put as much positive love into their brain as you can. You want them to see that it’s not just being taught or coming from maybe their parents at home. They need to see it in the public eye for it to really make an effect.”

#nhl #pride #lgbt #gay #queer #hockey

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glow-in-the-dark-death · 3 months

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The Daycare

Danny moves to Gotham after Lady Gotham themselves asks for his help.

Gotham's natural ecto has been deteriorating, and considering ecto was what held everything in existence together safely this was a major problem for Lady Gotham.

If Gotham got too bad it would spread to the rest of the world, and could cause it to cease to exist entirely.

So Danny came, as the Ghost King he had the power to filter in great amounts of the corrupt ecto just by being in the city.

But part of his obsession was protection & helping, Gotham already had a lot of help (Batfam). So he decided to focus on helping not with the problem at the top (villains), but with the problems at the bottom.

The problems at the bottom that would be the root cause in breeding more problems.

After all, many didn't start evil, but need and desperation pushed them towards that path.

So Danny moved to the worst part of Gotham, The Bowery.

What did he do there?

Why open a Daycare of course!

Many parents could not get a good or stable job simply because they needed to look after their kids and could not afford to pay the daycare fee.

Danny wasn't worried about money after all the coffers that he inherited as king would take forever to even make a dent in it, and that's only if he was living a very lavish lifestyle everyday for several human generations.

With this in mind his Daycare fee was pretty much nothing.

He would take care of the children of a very wide age group, while the adults could focus on getting a decent job or even returning to school for a higher education for better opportunities.

How does he care for so many children?

He duplicates himself of course!

At least in the very beginning, after a while he begins expanding his Daycare offering classes and tutoring to the children as well as free food at all times.

Who's helping him ?

His ex-rouges and other ghosts who volunteered.

Lunch Lady absolutely adores having so many people and kids to make food for, and Box Lunch can socialize and play with the other kids while she works.

Ember even volunteers to be the music teacher!

Danny has the help of many ghosts who once they heard his plans were very excited to help, many having the obsession with teaching children or in general. Other ghosts helped with building, expanding, and just generally helping maintain the building in great shape. Even building a very diverse and fun playground.

Of course all this catches the attention of Red Hood. Danny just appears one day on his territory with many others and practically having a building appear out of nowhere with how fast it was built, asking literal pennies to take care of the children, and free food for anyone who asks.

All that gains a lot of attention and is rather suspicious.

But the crime rate has been going down since he opened, which is a good thing.

But many people don't want good things and decide messing with Danny and his Daycare.

Unfortunately for them cuz Danny is absolutely down for violence if he's protecting what's his.

Villain: "What a lovely place you have here would be a shame if something were to happen"

Danny who has the audacity to fight Gods and win: "Someone call an ambulance! But not for me!

Also Danny: "These hands are rated E for everyone"

Other people:"Should we call someone for help?"

The ghosts:" Nah, let him have his fun he needs his enrichment"

Red Hood: "He's very suspicious"

Danny is absolutely covered in paint and singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star with the young kids: "Ah yes I'm totally doing normal Gothamite behavior"

Lady Gotham is having some self care spa time she's having a grand time: "Should I warn the young king of the other halfa (Jason)? Hmm best not, it'll be more entertaining if it happens naturally"

Just an Idea

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sttoru · 15 days

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fav concubine trying to top but sukuna is... sukuna so he fucks her full nelson <3

𝝑𝑒 SYNOPSIS. trying to show lord sukuna that you can indeed top him in bed ends up backfiring almost immediately & results in you nearly passing out.

wc. 1.2k

tags. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. smut, pwp. size difference. full nelson position. degredation. objectification. mention of (almost) passing out. reader gets called ‘doll, little girl, woman.’ beta read? nope

“i can do it, my lord,” you huff stubbornly. you don’t know where you got the courage from to be so assertive tonight. maybe it’s because of sukuna’s earlier words—those mocking words that he uttered to get a rise out of you. or to see you scared, perhaps.

‘y’re gonna need to do a lot more to keep me entertained, doll. gonna get bored of ya if y’ don’t.’

the sentences repeat in your head like a never ending chant. on one hand, you know sukuna was simply trying to play with your emotions, but on the other hand, you’re afraid that there might be some truth to his words. so, you take up the challenge.

“y’ can’t do shit, little girl,” sukuna rolls his eyes as he sees you climb onto his lap. his thick thighs are spread, his broad back against the headboard of the bed.

he doesn’t even try helping you like he usually does, with his hands guiding your hips. if you’re stubborn enough to try and top the king of curses out of all people, you’re going to get minimal help.

“yes i can,” you mumble with a sense of uncertainty in your voice. you’ve never really done any of this. you’re usually on the receiving end, having sukuna easily move and bend your body however he sees fit. you’ve never imagined being in his place, “just watch me, my lord.”

you’re desperate to please him. you’re scared to lose your position as his favorite. you let the words get to your head—just like sukuna expected. the fact that you’re so gullible makes him stifle a condescending laugh.

“all ‘m seeing is you struggling to ride me,” the tall man clicks his tongue and his eyes lazily watch your attempts to sink down on his two, hard and dripping cocks. the contact his leaking tips makes with your cunt is enough to make sukuna grunt.

he’s trying hard to not slam you down on him fully. he’s used to take control—too used to it. seeing you struggle to even start is making him impatient.

“i-i’ll get it eventually, my lord,” you hiccup, nervous because of the fact that you’re topping such a huge man. he’s staring at you menacingly, all his arms crossed over his chest. your hips tremble as you slide one of his cocks into your warm pussy, both of you hissing at the direct contact.

you try to fit the other in the same hole, but you simply cannot handle it at the moment. his upper dick slips right out and bumps against your clit instead. you clumsily fumble with the same one, trying to make place for it in your cunt.

sukuna can’t hold it in anymore. having you clamping down on one of his massive cocks, his girth stretching your small canal to fit all of it to the base and your face contorting in both discomfort and pleasure is making him lose it. “this isn’t gonna work. need to fuck you properly, doll.”

you’re not even one minute in and he’s yanked your small body off his lap, forcefully turning you around until your back is pressed against his chest and your head is rolled back to rest near his shoulder. sukuna’s upper hands hold your legs up by the back of your knees. his bottom set of hands wrap around his cocks and pushes one through your sensitive cunt whilst he fists the other.

“fff— mhhh! my lord! nonono,” you tear up. partially because the sudden intrusion hurts your insides and the stretch is unexpected, but mainly because you’re scared that sukuna’s angry with you. you don’t wish to lose his interest in you, “i’m sorry, let me try again.”

the king of curses slaps your clitoris harshly after that comment of yours. “that a demand? foolish woman,” he scoffs and his hips thrust upwards against the fat of your ass. squelchy noises fill the chambers and spill outside of the room—it’s loud. the bed creaking is unmissable as well with how fast he’s pounding you.

sukuna bites into your shoulder and holds back his grunts like that. he’s relentless, drilling into your cunt so hard that you’re getting numb. your body is limp in his beefy arms and your rationality leaves your mind. you’re more than overwhelmed.

“sorry, ‘m sorry,” you whine and try to babble about something, but it’s all incoherent. you’re feeling lightheaded due to how much you’re taking of him. it feels amazing, soul ascending, but your emotions are in the way. even when you try not to show any attachment to the man you swore not to like.

sukuna ignores your pleas. his focus is on your slutty cunt swallowing every inch of his lower dick like its nothing. you’re used to it—he’s made you used to it—and somehow you’re still as tight as the first time. that and your submission to him is exciting. your adorable noises. the form of your body as it fits perfectly against his like you’re made for him.

you are made for him. your purpose is to please him, submit to him and give him what he deserves. that’s why he keeps you around.

“stop y’r whining,” sukuna grumbles. your knees are forced up against your ears and your tits are bouncing with each harsh thrust. “y’r a dumb fucking thing,” the king of curses presses down on the bottom of your stomach, increasing the pleasure for you, whilst also pleasing himself by knowing how deep you’re taking him, “do you think ‘m actually going to let you go?”

your eyes widen as sukuna picks up on your internal worries. you know there’s no hiding your feelings from him, even if you don’t talk about them to him. it’s like he can sense them. or see right through you with those piercing red eyes that leave you shivering for days.

“y’re too delicious to let go of. i don’t intend on letting anyone else get a taste of this pussy,” sukuna smirks and his tongue rolls out to lick your left ear. you gasp at the feeling and moan right after. you don’t try being quiet. you don’t care if anyone hears you. the reassurance was all you needed.

everyone around the estate knows you’re getting your guts rearranged by the same lord they serve. it’s the same routine every day.

“y’re mine,” sukuna grumbles and speeds up his thrusts until you’re seeing stars. you’re not sure if you can hold out for much longer. you can already feel your orgasm building up—and judging by sukuna’s tight grip on your thighs—he’s close to emptying himself deep inside you as well.

you try your best to keep up with everything, but your human mind can only focus on so much at once. you mumble some words in agreement as your head tilts to the side, your vision turning blurry and fuzzy, “all yours, m’lord.”

sukuna grins mischievously. he’s completely won you over. he’s got you wrapped around his finger. you’re easy, even if you think you’re the complete opposite. the skilled curse knows just what to say to make you all putty in his hands.

you’re gullible. easily manipulated. a perfect target for his mockery and teasing. that’s why he always has fun with you—whether it’d be in bed or not. his comment earlier was just to mess with you.

and expected, you walked right into his trap. you’re his favorite. his favorite to play around with. his favorite human.

“all mine. only mine.”

#sttoru writes.#jjk smut #sukuna smut #jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk x you #sukuna x you #jjk x y/n #sukuna x y/n

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wyvernest · 8 months

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mating szn

part 1 (part2)

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!gf!reader

warnings: smut, fluff, scent marking, primal play, rutting miguel, possessiveness, reader is ovulating

summary: miguel comes home feeling extremely needy

You're preparing dinner when you hear the opaque glass doors of your shared mansion open for your lover to come in. It's almost midnight, and it doesn't take you longer than a few seconds to realize how tired he has to be.

Miguel walks into the open kitchen, frowning.

"Baby! I missed you!" You jolt to him, pans clattering dangerously as you throw them aside, careful enough not to ruin your work but swiftly enough to get to him as fast as possible.

You curl your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes, pressing your chest flush against his hard pecs. His hands grab at your hips, absentmindedly and by habit.

"What's wrong?". You place a gentle, loving hand on his cheek, trying to meet his gaze. But he's not looking at you. His eyes are darting all over your face and body, brows still creased.

He could feel it, your scent. A collection of the whole day, everything you've done. The food, the places you've been. He feels like it's been so long since this morning, when he woke up beside you, kissing along your neck.

He feels a surge of blood rush from his heart and through his lucidity, a shot of adrenaline inexplicably taking over him.

You don't smell of him anymore. Anger bubbles in his chest as he thinks of all the people you must've talked to around HQ, who didn't smell his strong musk on you, who had no idea you belonged to him.

He's never felt like this before. He brushes the unfamiliar feeling aside for a moment, grounded by the silent plea in your eyes.

"I'm good. Just a bit tired." He brushes wild strands of baby hairs out of your face, finally matching the loving look you've greeted him with from the start.

He leaves you to finish the meal and steps into the shower, hoping that an ice cold stream would cool him down. Only it doesn't do anything but worsen the situation.

The second he feels the water spray hit his body, he flinches, unlike the usual relief he gets. His skin is abnormally feverish, the ghost of your body in his arms taunting him further into madness. He soon finds himself desperate to get out, to be reunited with you and the warmth only you could ever provide for him.

Images of your supple body breaking in his embrace flood his already lust crazed mind against his better judgment, and he feels his cock fatten slightly at the memory.

When he takes it in his hand, he nearly starts bucking his hips into his hold, sensitive and insanely needy. He imagines you in the bathtub with him, arching your back over the edge, spreading your legs for him to pound his cock into you under the hot stream, your moans echoing and ringing into the stone tiles.

He can't take it anymore. His body aches for your touch and attention.

Exiting the shower, he pulls a pair of loose boxers up his thighs, the only thing he can tolerate with the fever that has taken hold of him so suddenly.

And then, he focuses on the image of you, standing where he left you, gently stirring in a bowl. You're wearing one of his t-shirts, draped down to the middle of your thighs and over your elbows, an oversized dress.

He approaches you, wrapping his arms around your front and waist, dropping a fraction of his weight on your back just to keep you from moving or fighting against it. You throw your head back, closing your eyes.

His head drops to your neck, kissing here and there, exhales smoldering hot on your throat, stopping momentarily to deeply inhale your scent. Among all others, there is a distinctive smell of you, of your arousal and need for him that drives him mad.

"Wait- Miguel, let me finish this-" You protest, your creamy tone betraying your true intentions.

He groans, kissing your naked shoulder, his hands squeezing your form in front of him.

All tasks are ultimately abandoned as he pushes you against the counter, his defined abs hitting your back, the marble surface cold against your thighs. He presses his fat, hard cock up against your plush ass, his hands fondling your breasts through his shirt, groaning low and quiet in your ear.

With his biceps curled and constricted around your navel, your body goes limp in his hold, trembling ever so slightly as his warm, broad palms squeeze the soft flesh of your tits. He pushes them together, massaging gently, almost experimentally. He flattens them with the heels of his palms softly, only to them constrict his fingers around them so perfectly, fondling and groping away.

"Mm- Miguel, oh-" You breathe out, finding balance on your hands, arching your back into him. You feel your core pulsate with need, swelling up under his movements. You're almost completely wrapped up in his massive body, with nowhere to go.

And just then, you accidentally knock a knife off the counter, startled when it hits the marble floor with a loud clank. He jumps, backing up from your body. Your face is flushed, eyes half lidded, breath heavy, nipples perked under the thin cotton. Landing back to your senses, you move to bend down and pick it up.

His eyes automatically snap to your round ass and the dark wet spot on your panties that invites him so blatantly to shove his cock in between your pussy lips.

He can't help it. He can't control himself anymore.

Balance leaves your position as you feel his rough, eager hands grip your hips, harshly pulling you back into him. The plumpness of your ass hits the girthy shaft of his cock, but before you can look for the lost balance with your hands in front of you, he thrusts his erection up against your clothed cunt, making you whine in need.

"Ay, mi amor-" His voice is rugged and satisfied, laced with a deep groan. A broad palm hits the side of your behind, making the tender flesh ripple against his hard-on. "Te necesito muchísimo ahora." (I need you so badly right now.)

You yelp, perplexed, instinctively grabbing his wrists for balance. He pulls you up with your back against his chest, splaying a cursory hand across your abdomen, sending shivers thundering down your spine and butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

"Miguel!" You playfully fight against his possessive hold, "Is this your way of helping me prepare dinner?!" You free yourself, giggling and letting a wide smile take over your features. Stepping back and extending your arms in front of you in an attempt to shield yourself from him, you chuckle wholeheartedly.

Seeing you resist, he lets out a defeated exhale.

"Fine. I'll be good, lo prometo." (I promise). He motions for you to come closer and trust that he'll behave. Letting your guard down, you approach the counter, eyes fixated on his playfully.

He feels your body heat nearing him, so comfortable and tempting. The smell of you, and everything that drives him crazy about your presence alone. His breaths deepen and quicken abruptly, his cock straining in his boxers, twitching freely against the material, begging to be enveloped in your wet warmth.

He looks down at you like a panther about to pounce, waiting for the perfect moment to do so. Your smile curls wider, eyes shining with lust and a teasing playfulness. His body dwarfs yours, his shadow alone making you feel puny. His shoulders are tense, the same way they are when he's on top of you, riding you into next Tuesday.

He shifts to place a clawed hand on the counter, the sharp edged digits tapping against the surface catching your attention momentarily in the corner of your eye. He exploits the split second it takes you to look down to his arm, snapping and squatting to grab your thighs, throwing you over his shoulder.

"NO! You promised! Miguel! The food!" You try to reason, throwing any and each accusation you can think of, knowing that you definitely don't want him to drop it and leave you alone, truly. And he knows it.

And that's when he feels it. With your ass on his bulky shoulder, he can smell it. Your arousal, dripping hot. His fat cock finally hardens completely, its monstrously girthy shaft poking through the shorts.

You're ovulating.

Groaning ruggedly, he delivers a rough spank to your plump ass before pushing two fingers over the wet mound of your clothed pussy, running them over your slit, teasingly, collecting more of your scent.

He swears the only thing stopping him from fucking you raw right on the kitchen floor is your comfort.

"Okay! You win! Put me down, I'll let you fuck me."

Without a second thought, he places you back on the floor, hands on your hips, talons grazing your tender skin deliciously.

His eyes have reddened, pupils blown wide, exhales hot and labored. You don't want anything more than to wrap your arms around his neck, to press yourself into him, to feel his hard abdomen on your stomach, his pecs on your soft tits, his mouth on your neck.

But you want to see more of how needy he is.

You jolt to the stairs with no warning, climbing the winding wooden steps like a cat. You hear him behind you, his weight put onto each movement as he chases close behind, the staircase creaking under him.

Looking behind before reaching the hallway of the first floor of your mansion, you feel your panties dampen at the sight of the man and the sheer size of him, massive shoulders slightly hunched forward in focus and adrenaline, his height successfully making you stagger on your way to the bedroom.

divider by @cafekitsune

HOPE YALL LIKE IT IMMA CONTINUE ‼️‼️

a/n: primal play is thoroughly discussed beforehand. insisting that your partner has sex with you even after resistance without having discussed the aforementioned resistance is abusive.

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tteokdoroki · 6 months

Text

☆༉ — RYOMEN SUKUNA. a better man.

about. you’re a girl that’s way out of his league and he’s the bad boy you couldn’t help but fall for. what happens when ryomen sukuna fails to meet you in the middle?

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, suggestive towards the end, no curses!au, modern!au, it’s implied that sukuna is in a gang, mentions of fights, reader is a rich girl, they’re kinda in love :( bad boy!sukuna, fem!reader.

“you’re mad at me. aren’cha?”

sukuna mutters with an air of faux nonchalance as he lazily jogs up the final marble steps that lead up to the restaurant he was supposed to meet you at nearly two hours ago. the evening traffic zips by, red and white headlights parting through the rain to illuminate your boyfriend’s features. heavy water droplets take residence on the slope of his nose and Cupid’s bow, some even daring to cling on to the tips of dusty rose-coloured hair.

if you weren’t so angry right now, you might take a moment to appreciate how good sukuna looks in the moment — especially with the way the rain makes the designer tux you’d gotten for him cling to his skin. exposing every ridge and dip and curve in his muscle while his inky black tattoos become all the more visible.

“of course i’m mad.” you step aside to let sukuna under the shelter of the entrance, avoiding him as he swoops down for his usual hug and kiss. “tonight is important. it was important.”

“babe c’mon on, i was—“

“you were late. they’re serving dessert in there, ryomen.” your tone is coloured with shades of annoyance and a hint of warning. like a mother about to lecture her child. you’re pissed. it’s written all over your face too — in the way that your brows crease and you pout so adorably. he’ll try to play it off, like he doesn’t care, but it almost makes sukuna sick to his stomach to know that you’re angry with him.

the rain picks up outside of the restaurant and you continue. “all you had to do was show up on time. come to this stupid fancy restaurant and be there to meet my parents. but of course, you got yourself caught up in—“ you grab his dress shirt in frustration, noticing the blood on the collar that doesn’t belong to him. his split knuckles and the bruise on his lips. “— in whatever this is.” you roll your eyes, blood boiling.

“it’s nothin’ for you to worry your pretty little head about,” sukuna scoffs, lips spreading wide in his signature smirk. the excuse is lame, but he doesn’t want you to worry for him any longer. “since when did you care about what your parents think, anyways?” but you see it in his eyes, that same old worry. that he’s not good enough for you, that a scumbag like him doesn’t deserve a pretty girl like you. he’s always told you to find someone better, someone able to feed into the glitz and glamour that you were brought up in.

but you’ve always told ryomen sukuna that you have everything you need right there with him.

cupping his face, the heat of anger dispels from your body and you exhale deeply though your nose. “i don’t care about what my parents think. if i did, i wouldn’t be dating you.” you cast a thumb over the thick lines of ink decorating his face, accenting sukuna’s high cheekbones and chiselled features while the rest of your fingers sink into his smooth, dark undercut. “but that doesn’t mean i don’t want you to meet them. they’re just as special to me as you are. i want the most important people in my life to know each other.”

your boyfriend’s hands settle on your wrists as he grunts noncommittally, indicating that he’s aware of his wrong doings. if there’s one thing that sukuna hates, it’s upsetting you. he doesn’t care what the world thinks of him, it’s never mattered before. yet, even the slightest look of disappointment from you has the man in shambles. “‘m sorry,” he drawls, his grip on you shifting down to cup your waist — pulling you flush against him. “what can a guy like me do to make it up to you?”

“you can go on in there and charm the hell out of my rich, uptight parents so that we can hurry up and go home,” your voice lowers an octave as you stand on your tip toes for the extra height so that you can nip at the shell of sukuna’s ear. “where you can rip this dress off’a me.”

“such a dirty mouth for such’a prim ‘n proper girl, hm? i should wash it out with soap.” he purrs right back, leaning down to kiss at your neck until you’ve had enough of his frayed pink hair tickling your skin. he damn near melts when your fingers inch up to tug at his roots — earning a deep and thrilling growl from the man. “that was a dirty move. who taught you that?”

“my good for nothing boyfriend, he’s kind of a bad influence.” you tease back, despite having to physically push sukuna away in order to avoid setting off his inner beast before dinner with your parents is done — and instead, take to grabbing his larger hand in yours so you can lead him from the front of house to your family’s reserved table.

and like always, sukuna trails after you like a lost puppy enamoured with the person that found them, have them love and warmth. because, while you didn’t change him, you made him want to be better — to give up the knives in his back and the bullets looking over his head for something better. something softer.

something like you.

ryomen sukuna wanted to become the someone he thought you deserved.

that’s why he put on this stupid suit and tie, why he let you take his hand, why he follows you to the the table that’s sure to seal his fate with you.

behind all that rough exterior, is a man who loves you.

and in front of sukuna, is a girl who loves him and all of his flaws right back.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #don’t look at me lawl #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen x you #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki #angelshubnetwork

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princessbrunette · 6 months

Note

rafe getting home from a long day at work and winedrunk reader waiting for him in the couch, wearing a pretty little short dress from a dinner she had with her girl friends and being all clingy and going on and on about how much she'd let him do 😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫 pls i need this man

god this is awfully me coded

he’s already pinching his nose bridge when he walks through the front door. following in his fathers footsteps is proving way harder than he thought it would be — and the pressure he is putting himself under is gathering in a vague yet aggravating ache at the base of his neck through to the scrunch of his eyebrows.

you’re on the other end of the spectrum, elated — pampered and princessed by rafes hand, giving you a good life thanks to his hard work. you’d gone out to dinner with the girls, returning tipsy and horny thanks to the shared bottle of rosé, and you all but giggle when your boyfriend walks through the door — ignoring his usual dark and stormy aura.

his back straightens when he enters the living room and sees you, as if a little startled you’re home so early. if he’s being honest, he’s not in the mood for any silliness — still frustrated from the deal gone wrong, all whilst barry was blowing up his phone trying to drag him back into his old life. rafes hands fall by his side, glancing at the way you’re sat, wearing a little dress he would have had something to say about you wearing outside around other people if he wasn’t too preoccupied with other stress.

“you’re back early.” he converses dryly as he drops down onto the opposite couch, spreading his legs and leaning his head back against the cushion. you bite your lip, eyeing him like he was your prey — an unusual switching of roles.

“the girls wanted to stay out longer, but i missed you.” you hop up in your bubbly manner, “y’look stressed, rafey.” you slide around the back of the couch, delicate hands coming down onto his shoulders and rubbing the tense muscle. you liked this, liked playing concerned housewife when your big bad rafe would come home all broody and mad. doting on him got you off.

“i am stressed. where’d you go?” he stares ahead, brow still heavy with irritation. if you wanted to play all sweet and suck up to him, he could only hope you knew what you were getting yourself into — that being a vessel for him to pound out his frustration. however, from the way you were touching on him, letting your hands slide down from his shoulders to run down his strong chest and stomach through his shirt, you were okay with that. infact, you were encouraging it.

“that new restaurant down by the pier. s’good… we should go…” your voice is soft and it relaxes him a bit, his eyes finally dropping down to your hands when your pinkie finger slides just beneath his belt. he looks, and then turns his head and looks at you, nodding in gesture to the couch.

“sit down, would you?”

you do what he says, you’d do anything he says right in that moment. you pout when you drop down right next to him, curling your legs beneath you. you wanted his touch, his attention, and you had a feeling he’d make you work for it. “do you need anything rafe? is there anything i can do for you?” your voice is nearly slurring, just slow and honey-like as your hand carefully grazes his chest again. he turns his head, to look at you — serious and still wearing the mask of irritation from his day. it’s hard to keep it up when you’re all fluttery lashes and twinkling eyes though.

“yeah, actually.” he drawls, eyes dropping shamelessly to your lips and then your tits. the slightest bit of attention makes you preen, and your manicured hand slides over his thigh, a longing exhale leaving you.

“i’ll do anything you want. i’d let you do anything to me.” you nearly whine, hand creeping up nearer to his crotch. he watches your hand, only glancing up at you.

“oh yeah? like what?” you can see the stress melting off him a little. your hand cups his bulge and you feel him hardening.

“i dunno, whatever you want rafe.” you pout, wanting him to take the lead. he glances at you again, which prompts you to keep rambling. “just wanna get fucked, needed it all day — i’ll do anything, i’ll take you in my throat, i’ll even let you put it in my ass just - just need you i missed you—” you sound like you’re getting upset from the lack of attention as your hand grips him, practically jerking him through his khaki pants and he winces, exhaling with his jaw agape and raising his hand, wrapping it round your throat to cut you off. he doesn’t squeeze, but his grip is firm and you squeak like a dog toy.

“alright.” he silences you, nose twitching a little in aggression. your hand slows a little before reaching for his belt, shaky fingers undoing it. “you miss me? yeah? want you to show me how much you miss me whilst i’m out here busting my ass to keep you happy.” he mumbles, jaw set as you pull his length out his pants. he cups the back of your head, pushing your face towards his length making you stumble to reposition yourself on the couch. “down you go. you know what to do.” he scratches behind your ear affectionately, which is enough to soothe you and you happily get to work, leaving lipgloss prints on his shaft.

“good girl. shit.” he sinks further into the couch, spreading his legs more as he gets comfortable. your ass is practically in the air as you bend over on the couch to suck him off, obscene sucking noises and your own leud gags all that can be heard for the time being. your dress has ridden up over the swell of your ass cheek and he shakes his head disapprovingly, hand sliding up the back of your thigh to grip the meat of your ass, making you whimper around his cock. “and we’re gonna talk about this dress when you’re done. can’t have you sluttin’ yourself out around town. you’re not a pogue, and slutting you out’s my job.” his voice is low and quiet, it’s even a struggle to hear him over your own gargles. you didn’t mind his disapproval, you wore it with intention — and you knew he’d follow through and fuck you in it.

#anon #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader

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mrsbarnesblog · 1 month

Text

meeting

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Summary: pregnant sex with Rafe in his office

Word count: 1k

Warnings: +18 ‼️ smut, pregnant sex, unprotected sex, kinda public sex?, sweet Rafe, dirty talk

A/N: requests are open <3

When you decided to take a walk outside and visit your husband in his office, you expected to spend some time with him or possibly have lunch together. But definitely not to be placed on his table with your summer dress only slightly covering your pregnant belly while Rafe was going in and out of you at a steady pace.

Rafe was still wearing his white, perfectly ironed shirt; his pants were just unbuckled and slightly pushed down. Your eyes tried to focus on one thing but you couldn’t decide what in him looked more attractive to you. His was big, slightly hovering over you, with that familiar smirk on his lips and mischievous glimpse in his eyes. Yeah, your hormones were crazy because of your pregnancy, but having the sexiest man alive look at you like you were the best thing ever definitely added something to it.

Rafe actually had a planned meeting in that exact room in twenty minutes but it was one of his latest concerns. Not when his beautiful, glowing, very pregnant, and very sensitive wife was spread in front of him.

“Rafe—people can probably hear us.” You half whispered and half moaned as he gently lifted your leg onto his shoulder, allowing his cock to sink deeper into your greedy cunt.

“Don’t care, sweets. Let ‘em hear how good you feel.” He grumbled, moving one hand to your heavy breasts and pinching your overly sensitive nipple. “Shit, your tits look so perfect right now, princess. You know I can't resist you when you’re all round and with my baby growing inside. So fuckin’ hot, and look at that… your pussy ‘s just sucking me right back in.”

Your eyes rolled back both because of his words and the way his cock was perfectly hitting that spot inside of you. You grabbed his hand that was currently playing with your tits, too desperate to have Rafe closer, to feel his skin on yours, but you couldn’t do much because of the belly that was already way too big.

“I need you closer, please.” You almost cried, tears gathering at your waterline, while you tried to stay quieter and not be too obvious for people outside the office.

“Sh-h, baby. You know I can’t lay on you, yeah? Gotta protect both of my girls right here.” His hand slipped lower, gently caressing your bump. “Let me fuck you nice and slow, and then we’ll snuggle the whole evening after I get home.”

You nodded a few times, eyes locked with your husband’s as his hips gently slapped against your skin. Rafe turned his head to the side, kissing your leg that was still thrown over his shoulder. His lips curled into a smirk, noticing how hungrily you looked at him, barely able to stay focused because of his thrusts.

“Please don’t stop, Rafe—oh god, I’m gonna cum!” You squealed, arching your back from the wooden table beneath you. One hand was wrapped around Rafe’s wrist, digging your nails into his skin, and the other one was placed over your mouth to muffle your moans.

“Mhm, that’s right, cum for me, princess.” His low moan filled the office, along with the sound of skin slapping against skin and the creak of the table. “Your sweet pussy squeezes the shit out of me. Fuck, gonna make me come too. Want me to do it inside of ya, huh?”

“Yes-yes, please! I need it!” With the first touch of Rafe’s fingers on your clit, you had finally reached your climax. He wasn’t far behind you, spilling his load inside, while your pussy was pulsating around him and almost not letting him move even for an inch.

“That’s right, take everything.” Rafe moaned, slowly sliding inside with eyes locked on the place where you two were connected. He swore that he could’ve come again just seeing your mixed cum glistering on his cock. “I would’ve fucked a baby right into you right now if you weren’t already pregnant. Shit, you look so hot, you can’t even imagine.”

“Stop!” You smiled through the post-orgasmic fog in your head, keeping your eyes closed. He just gave you another smirk before gently placing your leg down and lowering to kiss your stomach.

You almost jumped from your place when you heard a quiet knock on the door. Rafe immediately reached behind your back to make you sit upright so that way he could cover your almost naked body from whoever was behind the door.

“Um— Sir? I’m really sorry to disturb you, but your meeting is in two minutes and people are already waiting here.” Rafe rolled his eyes at the voice of his assistant, who luckily had enough brains to not walk inside.

“Oh my god, Rafe. It’s— they heard us. They know what we were doing here!” Your eyes were rounded in embarrassment, looking at your almost unbothered husband.

“You’re pregnant with my baby, princess. I’m sure everyone has already figured out that we have sex.” Rafe smirked at you again. “Give me five minutes!” He said to his assistant before focusing back on you. He helped you get your dress back on properly, put himself away, zipped up his trousers and then sank in front of you on his knees to put your panties in their place. “Are you both feeling alright?”

“Mhm, but I’m so tired now.” You yawned and lowered your head on Rafe’s shoulder, as he stood up and brought you closer to his chest; your eyes became too heavy to keep them open.

“I know, baby. C'mon, my driver will get you home, and I will be there as soon as possible, okay? I love you both so much.” He gently touched your face, caressing your cheek with his thumb, then placing a kiss on your forehead, nose and, finally, on your puffy lips.

“We love you too.” You smiled into the kiss before Rafe helped you get off the table and walked you out of his office. You were trying not to die from embarrassment from all the knowing looks thrown in your direction while your husband proudly placed his hand on your lower back, not even batting an eye at others.

#rafe cameron imagine #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #rafe x you #rafe smut #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron smut #obx x reader #obx fanfiction #obx fic #obx smut

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diddybok · 9 months

Note

Request: Skz accidentally finding out one of reader’s kinks… could be a drabble or text! <3

oh my god…yes. happy birthday to me😌

18+ below the cut peeps

all characters depicted in my writing are from my own imagination and do NOT in anyway represent nor reflect the people in real life :)

➩pairing: hyung line x gn!reader

➩genre(s): smut

➩warnings: swearing, unprotected sex, kinks: hair pulling, spit, choking, humiliation. penetration (not specified what hole. this one is for all the delulus out there)

➩author’s note: yeah, smut. just nasty smut. mAy have gotten carried away with this. mAy have had some revelations. mAy be chronically down bad for hyunjin after this…and EYE wrote it.

➩part(s): next

chris | hair pulling | 0.9k (955) words

You were laying on the bed next to Chris. You watching the newest installment of the Bridgerton series, and he playing Pokemon Go. Your friends and the boys constantly tease the two of you saying that you act like a couple when really you aren’t. Chris gets annoyed, much more than he likes to admit, at the constant allegation. However, you don’t pay it any mind. If anything you add fuel to the fire.

Ping…ping…ping

You groan loudly and press pause on your show.

“If you could be so kind to turn the ringer on your phone off? I’m trying to watch a sexy scene and your pinging is taking me out the moment!” You say turning your attention to Chris, his eyes still glued to the screen.

He just hums in response but makes no move to flip the switch on the side of his phone.

Ping…ping…ping

He chuckles lowly before swiping the notification up to continue his battle. You crawl over to him and snatch his phone from his hand. It seems you will have to see for yourself just who is blowing up his phone.

“Y/n give it back!” He reaches over to grab the phone but you turn your whole body away from him, laughing as you curl up tightly trying to read the notifications.

“My my my, who is Aaliyah?” You gasp dramatically. “I miss you so much baby, can’t wait ‘til I can see you again, need you bad Channie” You mimic in a high pitched voice.

“Y/n I’m serious just give it back!” He growls. It has now turned into a scramble of sorts. You underneath, curled up in a foetal position. Him, on top as he tries to pry your body open to retrieve his phone.

Chris accidentally releases his grasp on you and in that moment you roll from underneath him. Planning to escape out of his room, you hastily make a move to climb off the bed.

It all happened so quickly. The grab. The noise. The drop of the phone. The awkward silence.

In your attempt to flee, Chris had grabbed you by your hair and yanked you back. You could have wailed, could have screamed, but you did neither. No, what you did was far worse.

You had released a guttural moan.

You. Moaning because Chris pulled your hair.

Neither of you dared to speak, nor look each other in the eyes. You were embarrassed to say the least. Your best friend had just discovered that you have a hair pulling kink. He on the other hand took one too many deep breaths to calm himself. He has never heard you make a noise like that before. Much less because of him.

“I, ahem- your phone. I’m sorry…you can have it back.” You say keeping your eyes glued to his bedsheets as you slide the phone over to his leg.

You go to retract your hand quickly so that you can go get a glass of water to cool yourself down. He grabs your wrist almost instantaneously. Not letting you get far at all.

“Look at me.” He demands. You do as he says, slowly bringing your eyes to meet his. You don’t have to look down at his chest to detect the way it rises and falls heavily.

He gently runs his hand all the way up your arm, an agenda clearly on his mind. You’re frozen in place as you feel his hand creep to the nape of your neck, his fingers spreading wide as they make their way into your hair.

Without warning, he tugs your head back harshly causing another involuntary moan to fall from your lips. A soft gasp is released from Chris, clearly enjoying the way you react to the action.

You guess that’s how you found yourself in this predicament. Knees no doubt bruising as you take Chris’ cock repeatedly down the depths of your throat.

His hand was embedded deeply into your hair, gripping it tight and using it as a leverage to fuck himself into your mouth.

“Fuck~ just like that Y/n. Mm, m’gonna use you as my personal fuck toy. Forget all the other girls I see. Just pull your hair whenever I need you huh? I don’t know why I didn’t think about it earlier.” Chris says more to himself than to you, releasing a small whine.

The picture that this will leave in your mind is sure to be one that will fog your brain for the next couple of months at least. You never really thought about Chris in this way. Perhaps in the beginning stages of your friendship, but it quickly went away when you found out he was a manwhore.

Nothing wrong with that of course, you never had any reason to judge him for it. But god if this is what you were missing. You most definitely would not mind being his personal fuck toy. Platonically of course…

Your eyes are currently watering, as you gag and swallow. Making Chris grip your hair tighter making you moan. That was the breaking point for him as he unloads into your mouth. Not giving you any chance to waste a single drop.

He releases his hold on you, slowly pulling out of your mouth before slapping the tip on your cheek a couple times.

You look up at him, your glossed over eyes making him coo at you as he strokes your head softly.

“I hope your head isn’t too sore yet, ‘cause I’m gonna use it to fuck you back onto my cock, okay?” Chris says with a devilish smile.

Forget the sexy scene on television, you’re currently living in the sexiest one of all!

minho | spit | 0.6k (673) words

You and Minho are getting ready for bed after a long day of camping activities. You’re going back home from Korea tomorrow night so you wanted to spend as much time with your best friend as you could.

Even if that meant agreeing to do whatever he says for the last few days you shared together. Surprisingly, it was a lot of fun. You went fishing and caught a fish. You learnt how to build a campfire from scratch. Went kayaking and almost tipped it over. Let Minho spit in your mouth—

Wait, what?

You shake your head to come back to reality. Minho swirls water around in his mouth before spitting it out into the sink.

He wipes his mouth as he looks up at you, your gaze seemingly transfixed onto his mouth.

He still tastes the toothpaste in his mouth so he leans back over the sink about to spit, but then he looks up at you. Holding your unwavering gaze.

He spits slowly, the saliva descending down into the sink. As it disconnects, he licks his bottom lip smirking at you.

You watched the whole ordeal, obviously. Which explains why you suddenly squeeze your thighs, shifting from one foot to another.

“Either I’m living in a dream right now, or you, Y/n, are simply filthy.”

“Huh?” You say blinking rapidly.

“Huh? Huh?” He mocks, walking over to you.

What is wrong with you? Snap out of it! That is your best friend, you definitely should not be thinking about him spitting in your mouth as you get pounded by his dick.

“I can practically hear your thoughts. That or you’re speaking aloud.” He smirks, now inches away from your face.

It seems you finally regain consciousness as your hands claw at the sheets. Minho pummels you from behind at a relentless pace, making you drool.

You hear him chuckle, his hand falling beneath your chin to catch any saliva before bringing it up to smear on your mouth.

His hand moves to the underside of your jaw, forcing your head back. Your view of him now upside down as he doesn’t slow the pace.

“Are you gonna admit that you’re a filthy little slut who likes spit?” He teases, smiling down at you.

You can only mewl in response, he’s got you going dumb and he certainly enjoys it.

Bringing his hand up to your cheeks, he squeezes gently. Getting you to open your mouth. You do, even going as far to stick your tongue out.

“Oh look how obedient you are.” He spits into your mouth. His hold on your jaw releases as he moves that hand to cup your chest, hoisting you up so your back, though arched, is against his chest.

He fucks up into you. The sound of skin slapping against skin and both of your moans fill the tent. Those other poor people are no doubt just trying to enjoy their family camping trip, and here comes the two of you; unapologetically loud as shit.

“M-Minho…m’close.” You whine. He just chuckles in response, stroking that sweet spot inside of you to push you over the edge.

It isn’t long before you’re quivering on him, your body already becoming limp as your eyes roll into the back of your head reaching that sweet release. Before you can lavish in the feeling, you’re pulled off of him and he guides your head back to his pelvis.

“You’re gonna swallow every last drop I give you m’kay? No spitting this out sweetheart.” Minho says as he moans. Pumping himself faster as he unloads his seed into your mouth which you gladly swallow.

He uses the tip of his cock to smear any remnants of his climax on your lips. He smiles down at you, praising you for doing such a good job whilst also saying how dirty you are.

This will certainly make your relationship with him all the more questionable. Let’s hope it won’t be the only thing that clouds your mind on the flight home!

changbin | choking | 0.8k (898) words

You and Changbin are in the park having a cutesy little picnic. You may or may not have forced him to come with you since your other friends cancelled at the last minute and you had prepared so much. It’s good that you and Changbin are so alike because neither of you like to waste any food.

You have both been snacking on some grapes, when you look down and see there is only one left on the vine. Quickly whilst his attention was elsewhere, you pluck the grape from its vine.

You turn your head as you go to put the grape into your mouth, but a firm hand on your wrist stops you.

“You swear you’re like a ninja.” Changbin laughs as you turn to look at him with squinted eyes. He just shakes his head, his other hand held out awaiting the grape.

You look at his hand, the grape, his hand again and then back up to his face.

“If you think I’m giving you this grape, then you are surely mistaken.” You say, you’re tone curt.

Changbin looks at you, before shaking his head overzealously. You look at him confused.

“Why are you shaking your head at me?”

“Sorely.”

“What?”

“You said surely mistaken. It’s sorely mistaken, doofus.” He says before bursting out into a fit of laughter.

You look momentarily taken aback, a quiet ‘oh’ coming out of your mouth before you look at Changbin’s laughing state.

“For that, I’m taking the grape.” He says, plucking the grape from your hand and putting it in his mouth. He starts to chew it teasingly in your face, closing his eyes as he does so.

Successfully irked, you lunge towards him from your seated position. Unfortunately for your lacklustre skills, he easily manoeuvres you so that your back is against his chest as his bicep and forearm enclose your throat.

He squeezes playfully, well aware that the two of you are in public.

“Nice try, munchkin. You’re gonna have to be faster than that.” Changbin gloats.

You bring your hands up to hold his arm, your hands barely able to enclose his whole forearm. You try to pry his arm off but it’s to no avail as he doesn’t budge.

He squeezes tighter, his mouth moving closer to your ears.

“You know I’m not even trying right?” He teasingly whispers into your ear.

“Bin unhand me.” You plead.

“What, you’ve given up already?”

“If you squeeze my throat any tighter, I am not responsible for the…sounds that will come out of me.” You say tapping his forearm.

Changbin’s eyes widen slightly as he realises what you meant. He releases you and you crawl back to the other side of the picnic blanket, fixing your outfit and your hair, pretending like you didn’t say what you just said.

“You mean to tell me that me choking you was turning you on?” He asks with genuinity.

You turn to him, shrugging a little. The way you act so nonchalant clearly has an effect on him as he tries not to get turned on himself.

It didn’t work, for either of you, as you find yourself in the back of his car sitting on his legs as his fingers pump viciously in and out of you.

“Shh, you gotta be quiet. Don’t want people to start getting suspicious.” Changbin speaks into your ear.

You do your best to be quiet, but you don’t trust yourself so you put a hand over your mouth.

“Fuck you’re gripping my fingers so tight. Mm I can’t wait to ruin you. ‘Cause I’m gonna. Yeah, fuck you clenched when I said that. Want me to ruin you, don’t you my sweet?” Changbin purrs.

Your other hand grips his thigh, the coil within the pit of your stomach starting to tighten. You remove your hand from your mouth as your breath starts to quicken, small whines being released here and there.

“Bin, I can’t hold it.” You whine.

“You don’t have to hold it sweetness. Come for me.” He says his hand going to your neck and pressing on the sides of your throat.

The restriction of air and the squeeze of his hand mixed with his fingers has you seeing stars. Your moan caught in your throat as you orgasm. The lack of air prolongs your release and unfortunately for Changbin, you make a mess all over the backseat of his car.

He smiles as he watches you get lost in the pleasure. He loosens his grip on your neck and relishes in your pants as you try to catch your breath.

“Well I’m going to need to deep clean my car, but it was so worth it.” Changbin says, rubbing you through your high and placing a soft kiss to the side of your head.

You move yourself off of his lap, momentarily looking out the window to see if there were any wanderers that got too curious. Taking a deep breath your eyes meet Changbin’s and he looks at you with a sweet, unwavering smile.

“What’s that look for?…”

“Oh nothing, just thinking about all the places m’gonna fuck you when we get back to mine.” Changbin says, his smile widening even more.

Oh wow, you’re in for a long night ahead of you. Better hope those grapes gave you enough energy for the rest of the day!

hyunjin | humiliation | 1.4k (1446) words

Hyunjin is teaching you part of his dance routine in the studio. You were bored, and teaching somebody helps him to recount the steps.

For the most part, you were able to keep up with him. Picking up the steps with ease until there was a particularly hard move.

You can see the frustration building on Hyunjin’s face as you keep messing up this step. The one he tried to teach you fifteen minutes ago…

“Y/n no. Lift your arm like this, this.” He says demonstrating the correct way to do it.

You copy the motion. You think that you are nailing it and that he is just being too pedantic which explains his elongated sigh.

“Hyunjin, I don't know what you think I’m doing wrong. I’m literally doing it the way you do it!” You say, now getting frustrated at him and his perfectionist ways.

He looks at you through the mirror, scoffing and doing the dance move how you did it. Clearly over-exaggerating the way you did it.

“Does that look right to you? No, it doesn’t. It’s not even a hard step Y/n and you’re struggling to do it.” He says, walking back over to the laptop to replay the song.

This is embarrassing. You should feel embarrassed. Yet you hide a smile. There’s something about the way Hyunjin gets riled up and then proceeds to belittle you for clearly not being a professional dancer like he is.

Ridiculous isn’t it?

“Okay let’s go from the top.” Hyunjin says, counting the both of you in.

The song plays and you both dance to the rhythm. Everything was going swell until you purposefully messed up a move that you know you have no trouble doing.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!”

You wish you could take a mental picture of Hyunjin’s scowl and print it out. He looks at you, almost pitiful as he turns down the music, his hands on his hip as his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek.

“What are you fucking inept or something? What’s going on? You don’t know your left from your rights? Hm? You need me to teach you the alphabet whilst we’re at it?” Hyunjin taunts, now walking towards you.

You say nothing, looking up at him with eyes as innocent as you can get them.

“Cat caught your tongue? Or have you just become so dumb that you can’t even speak anymore?” Hyunjin speaks lowly, backing you into the full length mirror.

He raises a single eyebrow at you, waiting for you to say something. He huffs out a laugh when he realises you’re not going to respond, but rather cower beneath him.

You really are spoiled aren’t you? It seems it is so because you got whatever you wanted from this. One moment he pinned you up against the wall, you shoving your tongue down his throat. Then he was shoving his dick down your throat. And now here you are, on all fours, forced to watch as he thrusts harshly into you from behind.

“This what you needed hm? You just needed to be fucked didn’t you. Naw, dumb baby’s just too stupid to ask for what they want so they decide to piss me off instead huh?” Hyunjin grunts landing a smack on your backside.

You moan embarrassingly loud, jolting forwards slightly as you feel the impact of his hand on your flesh.

The song plays in the background adding to the already sexual tension that is in the dance studio.

Hyunjin stops thrusting, looking at you in the mirror as you stumble a little. The rhythm of thrusts throwing you off as your hips stutter in their movement.

“You’re gonna fuck yourself on my dick to the beat of the song. See if you’re not completely useless. It would be wise not to piss me off further so if you do a good job, maybe I’ll be nice.” Hyunjin says crossing his arms.

You wait to see if he was bluffing, looking back at him only to be met with a raise of his eyebrow. You turn back around, meeting his gaze in the mirror. You tune your ears to the song and start throwing it back to the beat. (y’all why this make me bust out laughing okay sorry continue.)

For the first two counts of eight, you were doing pretty well. Matching each beat with the sound of your bottom colliding with his pelvis. He watches you intently as if it were you dancing. He bites his lip, holding back his own moans.

The chorus of the song comes along and you miss a count. You try to catch up by speeding up your movements, but that just feels too good. Hyunjin tsks at you.

“You can’t even do this correctly. How embarrassing Y/n. Is there anything you can do without my help?” Hyunjin says shaking his head as he grabs both of your arms.

You clench around him at his words, making his tough exterior falter ever so slightly as he curses under his breath at the way you squeeze him so tightly.

He holds your arms like handles as he repeatedly slams you back onto him. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and then close tightly as he reaches deeper, continuously hitting that sweet spot inside.

“You better open your fuckin’ eyes and watch as you take what I give you.” He says, his tongue coming out to wet his lip as he smirks mischievously.

You flutter your eyes open, meeting his gaze in the mirror as your mouth hangs open releasing silent moans. Who knew that being humiliated would turn you on to the point it has? You watch his face contort into concentration. Sweat pouring down his face and falling onto your lower back.

“Hyune, just like that, please. I’m so close.” You whine.

He tilts his head, one of his hands releasing your wrist to reach beneath you and between your thighs, rubbing you quickly.

“Oh yeah? And you think you deserve it?” He teases.

You nod relentlessly, not even caring for his permission as you spasm around him as he lands a particularly powerful thrust.

As he watches you come undone on him he scoffs a laugh, shaking his head before chasing his own release.

“Mm, where’d you want it? Inside? So it drips down your thighs for everyone to see? Ah fuck, yeah I think so.” He says, small whines leaving his throat.

He pushes your body all the way down as he now lays on top of you, rutting into you. He lifts one leg up to ground him so he can reach deeper, the rocking motion overstimulating you as you convulse around him once more. You choke out a sob, tears starting to run down your face.

He catches your expression in the mirror, the tears streaming down and it sends him over the edge. With one final rock, he stills as his cock twitches deep inside of you. Painting your walls white deep inside.

He rests his forehead on the back of your head. Both of you spent as the sounds of heavy breathing and the song fill the room.

He slowly pulls out of you, both of you whining at the loss of the warmth. He rolls you over, placing a kiss to the underside of your jaw.

“Y/n? Are you still with me?” He asks, glancing over your face and down your body. He sees some of his cum trailing out of you and he uses his fingers to push it back in. Fixated on the way your hole envelopes his fingers so accommodatingly.

He only stops when he feels your hand push his chest and he chuckles lightly.

“You know you really don’t take orders well. I think I need to train you.” He says, brushing a stray hair out of your face as you finally open your eyes and look up at him.

He hums softly, admiring you before getting up and sorting himself out so that he is decent to the eyes of the public again.

“Get up. That wasn’t a reward, you’re going to just have to dance with my cum running down your legs now. The quicker you get the choreography, the quicker you’ll get to shower.” Hyunjin says walking over to the laptop and restarting the song.

He leaves you to get yourself up on wobbly arms and you smile to yourself. He should know by now that you most certainly do not put up without a fight.

Hopefully you don’t “accidentally” mess up any more of the moves and make him belittle you again…

ʚ hope you enjoyed ^.^ you can support me by liking, commenting and reblogging! it is heavily appreciated ᵕ̈ ɞ

i do not permit my work to be translated or reposted in any way, thank you.

#stray kids #skz fanfic #skz #stray kids x gn reader #skz x gn reader #stray kids felix #stray kids x reader #stray kids jeongin #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids seungmin #stray kids minho #stray kids han #stray kids changbin #stray kids bang chan #stray kids smut #skz smut #kpop smut #stray kids fanfic

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slvttyplum · 3 months

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i need soft dom geto so bad. overstimulates you like crazy over and over again while he kisses you softly, praising you and encouraging you like the good girl you are. "mm, that's it, wasn't i right? now let's give you one more," but he said that four orgasms ago. his praise if as good as his dick.

GODDD I NEED HIM SO BAD.

suguru did things that a lot of people don’t like to do with their partners. they think it’s too much and time-consuming, but he’ll do it in a heartbeat.

to him, the key to great sex is communication and prep, that’s how he gets you to hold out for three to four hours.

if you weren’t in the right headspace for him to keep playing with you, it was going to be boring and time-consuming, so what did he do? he prepped you good.

laid you on your back, stripped you of all your clothes, got some warm oil, and rubbed it all down your body, not stopping until you were completely submerged in the oily substance.

"shhhh, just relax, baby," is what he would say in your ear and then turn you around to lay you flat on your stomach. rubbing down your back and shoulder blades, then down to your ass cheeks, fondling with them before going down.

to your legs.

the sensation had you melting under his touch while simultaneously trying to keep your eyes from drifting down too close to how relaxing it was.

that was the best part. trying to differentiate whether to feel aroused or relaxed, he put you in that state for a reason—to make you crave his touch again once he stopped.

he did this for a while but stopped once he saw the oil sinking into your skin. the color of your skin and the light illuminating off of it were enough for him to know you were ready.

“you ready for me, hm?” he’ll rub both his hands up your back one last time before sliding them to your hips and lifting up your bottom half, putting you in position.

your ass lifted up and your chest pushed into the mattress, a position that would usually cause tension in your muscles didn't; you just sunk into the foamy mattress, waiting for him.

his body coming and his bottom half pushing into your ass as he positions himself. his hands rubbing over your soft ass, sending cool, calming tingles throughout your body.

“good job… how do you feel?” his voice is soft and steady as he whispers to you, his middle and ring finger slowly being pushed past your entrance.

your walls tighten up around him, his fingers turning and spreading out, feeling how slick you were clinging to him.

“good, suguru," is all you replied with, your breath hitching from every slight move his fingers make inside you. so tight around his fingers clinging to him, he almost wonders if he should work you out down here.

he feels how wet you are and how you cling around him, so he feels no need to do that. grabbing his length with his other hand, he slides out his fingers and aligns himself with you.

“beautiful.” he mutters as he slowly slides the tip in and sees how your hole takes him all in and how cute it looks.

placing one hand on the arch of your back and the other on the base of his dick as he keeps slowly inching inside of you, your hole taking in all of him.

“there we go… good girl.” he finally pushes all the way inside of you, pushing his hips upwards so he can press your sweet spot, a moan sliding out of your mouth when you feel the pressure.

your hands above your head clinging onto the sheet, the pressure you were feeling inside of you and in the pour of your stomach felt so intense, he was filling you up, and you knew he wouldn’t stop.

he keeps pushing into you intensely over and over again, the pit in your stomach crashing from how good you were feeling and how you were already on the edge of cumming.

you were at your peak, and the only thing you could hear was a faint bell ringing in your ears and faint talking from suguru, you couldn’t even be bothered to make out the words he was saying.

suguru slides his hand up your back from the arch he was previously digging into and slowly inching up the back of your neck, taking his hand and squeezing.

slowly lifting up and bringing your back up to his chest, the oil and your warm body bringing you so much pleasure that he just had to slam into you more.

he wasn’t planning on giving you any breaks tonight; you looked too good not to eat or break. the way you moaned and whimpered his name without even thinking about it was enough for him to want to fuck you stupid.

his hand is now sliding to the front of your neck, giving you a hard squeeze every time he thrusts inside you. words blabbering out of your mouth every single time. you were saying you wanted more, but the way your walls clung onto him was saying a different thing.

you were craving his dick so much that you were fucking back into him without thinking about it. all you know is that he was inching towards your sweet spot and applying pressure to it, and you needed more.

“there you go, baby, you like that shit, don’t you?" you don’t even respond; all that comes out is a grunt while drool is dripping your pith from your mouth and your hand is clinging onto his arm, pushing your nails into his skin.

after chasing that high and releasing you, you finally came. your walls clinging onto him and your head drooping low from the amount of energy you lost from being on that high.

you should’ve known better, but suguru wasn’t done and wouldn’t be done with you until 6 hours later.

releasing his hand from around your neck, letting you drop down on the bed, and turning you around so that you’re on your back. of course, you tried to protest because you were out of energy, but he wasn’t hearing any of that.

spreading your thighs apart so wide that he can see your opening, sticking his dick back inside, and thrusting into you faster than before.

your hands coming up to his stomach so you can push him away, but he grabs your wrist and holds them tight.

“be a good girl and take it; i know you can.” while simultaneously pushing into you so deeply that you can barely breathe and tears are rushing out of your eyes at an alarming speed.

you were used to going on for long times, but this particular night, suguru put you in a space that made you feel so good that you just wanted to doze off.

but unfortunately for you, he wasn’t stopping.

while thrusting into you without any hesitation or breaks, he takes his thumb and places it on your clit and lightly pushes down, swirling his thumb, and that sends your head into a frenzy.

a muffled sob comes out of your mouth, and so does your quick release. he had you cumming back to back, and you didn’t even know if you could hold on much longer.

“there we gooo, good baby.” he says, leaning down and placing a kiss on your cheek and then your soft lips, the taste of your years turning him on.

he doesn’t stop once he feels you release and your walls cling onto him; that’s the best time to fuck you when your head is spinning and your walls won’t let him go.

he takes his hand, puts it on your cheek, and slowly slides his thumb down, putting it between your lips and slipping it into your mouth.

“be a good girl and open.” and you complied, weakly opening your mouth. he leans over and slowly spits inside your mouth, the spit slowly trickling inside your mouth.

“swallow.” and that you do, swallowing his slick saliva as he slides into you again, your body jolting up and your head almost hitting the head boat, but suguru put his hand above your head, stopping the hit.

he went on for hours and hours. your pussy was aching so much that you were pleading with him with swollen eyes and a swollen core.

the bedsheets soaked, and his body draped over yours, rubbing your sides with his eyes closed.

“i love you.”

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