#bad taste book club | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

alonetimelover · 9 months

Text

pairing: Harry Styles x booktuber!reader

summary: A new series on ynrecommends channel on YT called Celebrity Book Club grabbed Harry's attention. Now, they are simply joined at the hip. As friends. Right?

——————————————————————————————

yourinstagram

liked by harryupdates, yourbestfriend and 17 291 others

yourinstagram hello! i started a new series on my YouTube channel - celebrity book club! my first victim was the one and only - Harry Styles. he has an... interesting library to recommend. click the link in bio if you want to watch me gush over harry, new bookshop I found and the best coffee ive ever made!! byeee, xx

also, you harries are too good with photoshop. i was sure he was reading book lovers...

view all 2 302 comments

yourbestfriend bestie gettin' famous!!!!

⤷ yourinstagram i knew it was a bad idea to listen to you...

⤷ yourbestfriend people need to know how great of a booktuber and reader you are

harryupdates that's a great video! i immediately subscribed to your channel!

⤷ yourinstagram thank you! I hope you'll find something for yourself there, xx

user22 came here from yt! fantastic video

user39 your editing skills are amazing!!

——————————————————————————————

harryupdates

liked by hArrysbtch, yourinstagram and 34 402 others

harryupdates yn from ynrecommends on yt did a video where she read all the books that Harry has ever recommended. she is hilarious, very sweet, and absolutely clever. watch it when you have some spare time, you won't be disappointed!!

view all 5 201 comments

hArrysbtch ive been watching her videos for months!!! thank god she finally gets the spotlight she deserves

⤷ harrysmoustache does she (like most of the booktubers) sugar-coat everything or she's just blunt?

⤷ hArrysbtch oh she's super down to earth! she also does those instagram lives where she talks about the latest book(s) she's read. super funny and laid back

⤷ harrysmoustache oh, thank god! i was looking for someone like that! im diving into her channel right now!

yourinstagram thank you so much! thanks to you, you harries are flooding my socials!! (im not complaining) xx

⤷ harryupdates can't wait for another video!

harryshoee she's so beautiful, too! and loves cats!

harrysmylife "harry, if you ever watch it, let's pretend you guys, if you ever watch it, i recommend you diving into Toshikazu Kawaguchi" she has TASTE, let me tell you

——————————————————————————————

harrymylove

liked by harryupdates, hArrysbtch and 22 301 others

harrymylove I'VE MET HARRY YESTERDAY!!!! look at him and my doggy Bart. i still can't process it...

view all 3 301 comments

hArrysbtch how was it???

⤷ harrymylove it was so lovely! he was kind enough to take a photo and talk with me for a while!

⤷ hArrysbtch what did you talk about? pls spill the tea

⤷ harrymylove im an English major so i asked him about some book recommendations. he answered with "i didn't have much time to read anything new recently. but was recommended and just bought Toshikazu Kawaguchi's books, so maybe this author"

hArrysbtch Kawaguchi???? after yn recommend that to him in a video???? he watched her video??? yourinstagram

harrysmoustache I've just started reading 'before the coffee gets cold' and looooove it!!

harryupdates do we think he actually watched yn's video?

⤷ hArrysbtch i hope so!

——————————————————————————————

harryupdates

liked by hArrysbtch, harrymylove and 45 302 others

harryupdates HARRY'S official YT channel left a comment on ynrecommends latest video!!

view all 6 401 comments

hArrysbtch that bish said 'let me break the internet and use me fuckin phone'

hArrysbtch unbelievable...

harrymylove he watched the video that's why he recommended me Kawaguchi... im melting

harrysmoustache i hope that he loves it as much as i did!!!

harrysmylife 'love, h xx' let me go cry in the corner

——————————————————————————————

yourinstagram

liked by yourbestfriend, harrystyles and 67 492 others

yourinstagram hopefully, this date will be successful

view all 9 201 comments

yourbestfriend was it?

⤷ yourinstagram after a couple glasses of wine, we moved to the bedroom

⤷ yourbestfriend STOP

⤷ yourinstagram never praise a ford till you get over...

harrystyles Assuming it wasn't successful, do you have any dates free?

⤷ yourinstagram i'll need to check my calendar, although i only attend when coffee (or wine) and good books are provided

⤷ harrystyles Done.

⤷ yourinstagram i'll think about it 🫣

harryupdates oh those are so tricky!!!

hArrysbtch stop, i also had an awful blind date with a book...

⤷ yourinstagram that's the worst! i just need to read the synopsis and thena few pages to decide if I want to buy it

harrysmoustache why is nobody talking about harry being in the comment section??? ASKING HER OUT??? who is this man??? what's happening

⤷ user93 well, it's clearly not him typing or even controlling it! the managmet took it over long ago!

⤷ harrysmoustache and they say im delulu...

harrysmylife SHUT UP !!! avtivrry is my favourite harry, like??? what do you mean he can type the comment? the flirty one? the one asking a girl out? like???

——————————————————————————————

harrystyles via close friends IG stories

——————————————————————————————

harrystyles

liked by yourinstagram, harryupdates and 4 292 294 others

harrystyles 11.08.2023 📚

view all 23 292 comments

yourinstagram you did not buy them just for yourself

⤷ harrystyles Wouldn't you like to know 😎

harryupdates Well-read king that we stan

hArrysbtch I'm connecting the dots here

harrysmylife welcome back 2013 Harry, how have you been?

harrysfan83 since that girls yt video, he became obsessed with books...

⤷ harrymylove it's called getting a crush on somebody

——————————————————————————————

hArrysbtch

liked by harryupdates and 4 492 others

hArrysbtch sooo, this is a still from yn's latest video... that stack of books looks awfully familiar to the one that Harry posted a week or so ago... coincidence? i don't think so. plus!!!! she did say she didn't spend a penny on those books

view all 928 comments

harrysmoustache if they are together, i feel like the fandom would love her

⤷ hArrysbtch i would hope so!

harrysmylife relationship, friendship or whatever -ship it is, im here for itttt

user94 y'all are really reaching now...

harryupdates it's the way she was glowing in that video for me! she looked so happy

——————————————————————————————

yourinstagram

liked by hArrysbtch, harrystyles and 76 301 others

yourinstagram when they read your recommendations>>>

view all 8 492 comments

hArrysbtch now let him play patroclus in a movie, i dare you Hollywood

⤷ harrysmoustache who would you choose as Achilles??

⤷ hArrysbtch you know what? let him be Achilles and Timothee would be Patroclus

⤷ harrysmylife this adaptation with this casting would cure me, for real

harrysmoustache he's in his lover era

harrystyles I love reading your copies of books with all the 'cute' and 'slay' and 'I LOVE THEM'.

⤷ yourinstagram it's called active reading

⤷ harrystyles No, its not.

⤷ yourinstagram party pooper

yourbestfriend thanks for inviting me!!!

⤷ harrystyles Do yo want to join us?

⤷ yourbestfriend I knew I liked you for a good reason

harrysfan45 so she is the girl from those pap photos

——————————————————————————————

harryupdates

liked by harrysmoustache, stylesbabie and 87 392 others

harryupdates HARRY taking photos of YN in Italy!!

view all 7 302 comments

hArrysbtch melting

harrysmoustache what in the world...

stylesbabie i know exactly what that photo is focusing on

⤷ user42 what?

⤷ stylesbabie (•) (•)

⤷ harrysmoustache in the wise words of Steve Harrington: BOOBIES

harrysmylife so they are dating

⤷ user93 no one confirmed it

⤷ harryupdates good luck with waiting for Harry, confirming that he is/isn't in a relationship

——————————————————————————————

yourinstagram

liked by harrystyles, yourbestfriend and 291 492 others

yourinstagram the promised vlog is up on my channel! grab some good drink and a snack for a quick talk about being single, vulnerability, loving your friends more than anything and - of course - some good books I've read in Italy!!!

view all 16 302 others

harrystyles I see the similarities between pictures 3 and 4

⤷ yourinstagram well, one is a cute little creature and the other is a sweet creature

⤷ harrystyles Good one.

hArrysbtch best vlog I've ever watched!!! Good job!

harrysmoustache being single??? what do you mean? i was rooting for you...

⤷ stylesbabie ...we were all rooting for you

harryupdates great recommendations as always!!! my tbr is growing with each of your video

celebrityupdates Single? Our sources are saying quite otherwise!

⤷ user56 spill the tea!!!!

⤷ celebrityupdates Link in bio to all the things you need to know about this romance!

⤷ harrysmylife it's like a man and a woman cannot be friends

⤷ hArrysbtch here we go again...

——————————————————————————————

a/n: do we want to see more of them?

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles instagram #harry styles fake ig #booktuber!reader

1K notes · View notes

2btheanswertothequestion · 1 year

Text

Steddie rockstar x roadie AU, with Steve being Eddie's queer awakening

(in a not-fic-format because I cannot be arsed to actually write it)

So. Corroded Coffin isn't huge by any means, but they're big enough. Successful and respected within their genre. Has a loyal fanbase, constantly sells out smaller venues, gets to go on tour every so often. They're rockstars who've made it while still getting to live like they're not rockstars when off the clock (and stage). The best of both worlds, really.

They're gearing up for another tour and have a couple of new faces on their crew. One of them got the job by being a friend of a friend. He doesn't at all look like he'd be a roadie for CC, and he doesn't actually listen to them – he's more into classic rock (respectable) and occasionally new wave (not respectable), but it's whatever. He's strong and hard-working and gets the job done. He also withstands the initial hazing like a champ, even biting back a few times. Yeah, Steve Harrington carves a place for himself in the crew and is soon one of them.

Eddie is especially fond of the new guy. Partly because it's clear Steve is as enamored with Dustin as Eddie is, and mutual interests bring people together. But also because Steve is simply a fun dude to be around? He's nice. Except for when he's mean; then he's funny instead. He's honestly funny a lot of times, even when he doesn't mean to be. Like, sometimes someone will make an exceptionally nerdy reference that he doesn't get, so he'll tilt his head and scrunch his eyebrows as it's explained to him. And, all right, maybe that's not funny, per se. More like cute. Endearing. Eddie often finds himself endeared and wanting to pat Steve on the head like the sweet little puppy he so strongly resembles.

The others mock him for it. Tease him about his man-crush on Harrington. Eddie laughs along with them, because yeah! Were he into men, Steve absolutely would've been his type. Look at him! Guy's ripped and has great hair (almost better than Eddie's. Just imagine the mane it'd be if he let it grow past his shoulders...) and Eddie has great taste. He'd for sure be head over heels for Steve if he were gay, and he is man enough to admit it.

That's how the flirting starts – as an extension of the joke. It's not out of character for Eddie, who flirts with everyone. With reporters, interviewers, photographers, TSA officers, venue security, other bands, anyone! Gender, age, or appearance don't matter because flirting is fun. And it's especially fun to flirt with Steve, because he flirts back! No matter how much Eddie does it, Steve will flirt back and help make everyone laugh. It's a great part of their dynamic and actually brings them closer as friends. Dustin would be proud of them.

So, while on tour, they have this thing where one member of the crew gets to decide where they'll go after shows or on their days off. Participation is optional but encouraged, because it's an 'organic bonding experience' or whatever their manager called it. Occasionally it'll be a movie or a museum, but usually the destination is a bar or club. What's there to say, they're a bunch of male, red-blooded twenty to thirty-somethings – what better pasttime is there than to get drunk after a hard day's work? Yeah, every so often someone will pick up a girl, but it's a rare occurrence. A bunch of the guys has special ladies waiting at home, and for the single ones it's much easier to just book a date with their own hand.

There's one guy on the crew, Peter, who always takes them to a gay bar when it's his turn. This because he is gay. Duh. No one minds it, and if they do they don't come back next tour. Corroded Coffin prides themselves on their allyship. They're freaks of nature welcoming all other freaks of nature. Seriously, what does it matter if a dude likes cock instead of tits? Why is it wrong if he wants it up the ass? It's actually not that bad! See, Eddie used to date this woman who was puh-retty kinky. Pegging was just one of the many, many, maaaaaaany things she enjoyed. And Eddie loved her, so, well. It wasn't as good as she claimed it'd be, but it was fine. Enjoyable enough to do again. The point is that CC doesn't dance with homophobia, and Eddie will scream it from the top of every table.

Anyway. When it's Peter's turn, Steve (who hasn't gotten to pick yet because he's the newbie and they pick last) comments upon it. Nothing big. Nothing bad. Still, Gareth is on him, puffing himself up like a chihuahua and asking if Steve has a problem with it.

Eddie’s hands turn clammy with nerves in the split second it takes for Steve to roll his eyes and scoff "of course not".

Look, he'd really like for Steve to be back next tour, okay? They're buddies now and he doesn't want to lose him to bigotry. Also, it'd suck to have to tell Dustin that the guy he hero-worships is actually a douchebag. Nothing to fear, however – Steve continues to prove himself to be a good dude. He doesn't even blink when propositioned at the club! Simply tells them "thanks, but no thanks". Unsurprising, since he's cool with Eddie's nonsense, but there's a difference between a straight guy hitting on you as a joke and a gay guy doing it for real. At least, for some it is. But not for Steve. Fuck, Eddie hopes he'll be back next tour. He's on his way to being Eddie's new best friend and he'd miss him.

Then, it's time – they're in Chicago and it's Steve's turn to pick. Some of the others grumble over the newbie getting such a big city at his disposal. Eddie doesn't blame them for suspecting favoritism – it's happened before – but not this time! It just became like this and Eddie has nothing to do with it! Ask the other band members.

(When he breaks the news to Steve, his hazel eyes light up. He asks, "Can a friend of mine come with?"

"Sure, man," Eddie says, clapping him on the shoulder.

Steve buzzes with excitement, giddier than a kid on Christmas morning. Fuck, he's so cute.)

That night after the show, as they're leaving for the 'organic bonding experience' (seriously, Chrissy? Of all the things you could call it...), they're met by a young woman outside the venue.

She's tall and skinny, like a giraffe, and that's all Eddie can tell at first glance because she rushes up and flings herself into Steve's embrace. They hug, they laugh, they might cry a little, and he even spins around with her in his arms.

(Girlfriend? She's certainly pretty enough for it.)

Once the heartwarming reunion is over, Steve introduces her as Robin, and tells her that it's his turn to pick a place for them to decompress but he's making it her choice. Robin spits out options with a speed none of them keep up with; Steve stops her, saying, "No, Robs. I'm making it your choice."

They share a look.

She gasps.

They grin, mischievously, and then...

She takes them to a lesbian club.

It's open to gay guys too, obviously, but clearly caters to lesbians. It's a smaller thing, the kind that entertains a steady line of regulars. Apparently, Robin and Steve are among these regulars, because the bartender greets them by name the moment they step inside.

They order their drinks and claim a booth. Robin is quick to instigate a discussion about what dorky things Steve has done while away from her. Eddie is happy to share while Steve laments he should've known better than to introduce them.

An hour or so in, Robin skitters off to catch up with a group of women, all varying degrees of butch. Not ten seconds later, someone new claims her seat (which is also Steve's lap). Eddie mistakes them for a girl at first, because they're small with a high-pitched voice, but no, it's just the twinkiest twink. He makes himself at home on Steve's thigh, pressing a kiss to Steve's cheek and squealing, "Stevie! I didn't know you were back!"

Steve laughs. "Hey, babe. Just for tonight. I'm here with my coworkers."

The twink twists around in Steve's lap. He really is girly-looking: soft jawline, slender build, shoulder-length blond waves, and huge eyes enhanced with makeup. He even smells like a woman, strawberry and jasmine.

"Oh! The rock band!" He extends a dainty hand. "Hi, I'm Brendan!"

Brendan sticks around for a while. Like Robin, he wants to know what Steve's been up to. Unlike Robin, he's more interested in awe-inspiring stories than embarrassing ones (unfortunate, for the latter kind heavily outweighs the former). He doesn't move from Steve's lap. Kind of weird, actually. Like, there are available seats. Yes, Robin also sat exclusively in Steve's lap, but that's different. They're best friends and it was chaste and cute. Brendan is... honestly, Eddie doesn't know who Brendan is. Some dude who's shameless enough to rub his ass on Steve's dick in full view of everyone. Yeah, you're not as subtle as you think, babe.

He doesn't even move when they get up to let another crew member go to the bathroom! No, Steve slides out of the booth still holding him, Brendan perched on his forearm. His muscles flex, a vein straining underneath the skin, but Steve's face is relaxed. As if the – small, sure, but still grown – man in his arms weighs nothing. More likely, Steve is just that used to carrying things.

For some reason, Eddie's mouth dries a little at the thought of it.

At last, Brendan leaves, but not before sweetly kissing Steve on the lips and telling him to "let me know when you're back for real, stud".

Steve promises with a laugh, then turns back to the table and rejoins the conversation as if it was nothing strange. As if making dates with other men happens to him all the time.

Shit.

The entire thing leaves something gnawing on Eddie. He holds it in while in the club. He holds it in when they escort Robin to her cab. He holds it in as they walk back to the tour buses.

Then the others are gone. It's just him and Steve left, lingering to smoke in the parking lot, and he can't hold it any longer.

"I didn't know you're gay!"

Smoothness, thy name is Eddie Munson.

Steve shrugs. "I'm not; I'm bisexual."

"Right, right."

Eddie takes a deep drag, putting some of the smoke in the wrong pipe and coughing it up. Steve thumps his back.

"Woah, man, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Eddie rasps, tears prickling his eyes. "So, um, is it okay? What we've been... The flirting?"

"Uh, yeah?" Steve tilts his head, eyebrows scrunching and, Jesus Christ, how can he be so adorable? "Why wouldn't it be?"

"Because!" Eddie gestures between the two of them. "You're bi, and I'm not, and is it offensive for me to...?"

Steve blinks at him, before bursting into laughter. Eddie feels the blush warming his neck.

"Don't be stupid," Steve says in between peals of giggles. "It's just a fun thing. S'not that deep. You don't have to lose sleep over it."

"Alright, man. Then I won't."

But he does.

That very night he finds himself tossing and turning. And thinking. Thinking about Steve. About Steve's strong arms and broad chest. About his square jaw and plush lips. About his thick hair and hooded eyes. About how the ugly polo shirts the techs wear look genuinely good on Steve, and about how his tight jeans leave little to the imagination. That particular line of thought has Eddie whimper and roll his hips against the mattress. Rachael's strap-on always felt kind of so-so. Was it because it was too rubbery or because it was too small?

He also thinks about what makes Steve Steve. Like Steve's selflessness, always the first to volunteer to do the tedious work so no one else has to. And Steve's barbed tongue, sharp enough to give even Eddie a run for his money. Eddie thinks about their easy banter, and how Dustin sings his praises, and how Steve let Robin pick a club when it was his turn.

After three consecutive nights of tossing, turning, thinking, and no sleep, Eddie comes to a horrifying conclusion.

It's not simply a question of 'want'. He's not just horny and curious. No, he likes Steve.

It makes things so fucking awkward. He has no idea how to act around Steve afterward. Falling for a crew member is bad enough (so unprofessional; Chrissy would definitely be on his case if she knew), but this is worse because he's a guy. Eddie's never been into guys before! Sure, there are men out there who are objectively hot. Eddie can admit that. But it's not the same. There are feelings involved here.

And the worst is that people notice. Steve notices. How can he not? When Eddie stops responding to their usual flirting, turning into a skittish bunny whenever Steve is close.

At first, it makes Steve pause. Tilt his head, scrunch his eyebrows, and pout in confusion (Eddie's heartbeat turns irregular every time he does). Then Steve pulls away, and Eddie's heart fucking breaks. The atmosphere among the crew turns tense; Peter starts sending him dirty looks that Eddie shrinks away from.

A few days into it, he's cornered by a pissed off Jeff.

"Dude, what's your problem?" he snaps; Eddie wants to sink into the ground. "I thought you were better than this. Who cares that Harrington is also into dudes? It's still Harrington! It won't kill you to treat him like you used to. No one is going to think you're gay for standing next to him."

Eddie croaks, "What if I am?"

"You- What?"

"What if... I like Steve?"

Jeff's jaw hits the floor. "What."

Eddie inhales deeply, staring at his wringing hands. "I like Steve. I've been thinking... After Chicago, I started to think about... And I realized I like him." A sob tears from his throat. "I don't know what I should-"

Jeff's arms wrap around him; Eddie buries his face in the crook of his neck.

"Jesus Christ," Jeff mutters, stroking Eddie's back. "Um, it's okay? We support you. No one will judge you! We love you all the same."

Eddie nods, Jeff's leather jacket squeaking with the movement. He's been wearing it since high school and it smells like home.

"I don't know how to act around him anymore," he sniffles.

"Why don't you tell him?"

Eddie recoils from the embrace to give Jeff his mightiest 'are you stupid for real' look. Jeff sighs at him.

"Oh, come on. You're his friend and a good-looking guy. Why not?" Jeff says, as if it's that easy. But...

"I'm not his type!"

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do! Didn't you see that Brendan guy?"

Jeff falters. He realizes Eddie is right. Because, yes, Eddie is pretty hot. He has the long hair and a pretty face, he's been told. But he's still a masculine guy. A blue-collar type with calluses on his hands and dirt under his nails. He's not a svelte, dainty, little twink – he's as tall as Steve is, with more tattoos than bare skin and who smells like sweat and tobacco badly masked with cheap cologne, not strawberries and jasmine. He doesn't wear makeup or do his hair and some days he just fucking picks a used shirt from his pile and maybe sniffs it before putting it on. He talks too much and too loud. His limbs flail when he's excited. He's not going to sweetly ask for flattering stories about Steve – his instinct is to tease him for calling one of the guys from Nip/Tuck 'Dr. McDreamy'. He's closer to Robin than he is to Brendan. Jesus Christ, he's in the same category as Steve's lesbian best friend! Or at least he was, before he shot their friendship to hell.

There's no hope.

The tour ends on a sourer note than previous ones. It's all Eddie's fault. He doesn't even stick around for the last 'organic bonding experience' – he gets into his car at the first opportunity and drives home.

And then comes the wallowing. Several tubs of ice cream are consumed as High Fidelity plays on loop on Eddie's TV. He writes dozens of miserable, yearning songs and screens his calls, not even picking up for Chrissy or Wayne. It's not until Dustin's cheerful lisp rings out from his answering machine that there's a change. He's inviting Eddie to come visit him and Suzie and the cats in Massachusetts, like he always does after a tour.

Eddie can't turn that down. Besides, he probably needs to get out of the house.

So he goes, and it's nice. Dustin is still a little shit, Suzie is a pearl, the cats are cuddly, and Eddie is a good enough faker to mask his emotional state – his hosts notice nothing amiss.

Then, halfway through his visit, Eddie returns from his walk and who does he find unpacking their car in Dustin and Suzie's driveway?

Can you guess? I think you can.

It's Robin!

And Steve. They're a package deal, you know.

And Dustin's like, "Eddie! They're here! Oh, did I forget to tell you they were coming? Oops. Well, you already know them, so it's fine."

And Eddie is panicking, and Robin is trying to murder him with her mind, and Steve is just like,

"Hey."

Coldly polite.

Eddie hides in his guest room until dinner time. When he comes out, he expects Dustin to chew him out for being an asshole homophobe and kick him out of his life permanently.

But he doesn't. Dinner is as usual, if Steve Harrington ignoring you and Robin Buckley glaring at you is part of your usual dinner experience.

After cleaning up, Steve steps outside to smoke. Eddie, figuring he has to take some responsibility, follows him. Steve is standing on the deck, elbows resting on the wooden railing, his back to the house. He straightens up and turns when Eddie closes the screen door behind him. The sun has set, but the moon is out; Steve's profile is sharp in the pale moonlight, his posture sure. The cherry of his cigarette makes shadows and flames flicker dramatically over his features, highlighting the edges and the curves and he's so fucking gorgeous Eddie forgets how to breathe. Absence really does make the heart grow fonder.

He slinks over, Steve's gaze following him.

"Hi," Eddie says.

"Hi," Steve says.

"You didn't..." Eddie swallows. "You didn't tell Dustin?"

Steve frowns. "No. It's between us. For now, at least."

"Oh."

Shuddering, Eddie wraps his arms around himself. It's late summer and still warmish as long as there's no wind. Right now it's windless, the cold coming from within.

"I wanted to talk."

Steve hums, noncommittal.

"I wanted to apologize."

Another hum, more interested.

"I'm sorry. For how I acted. I've been an asshole and you don't deserve any of that."

Eddie glances up to gauge Steve's reaction, and oh. The whole evening, Steve's been aloof, cordially keeping Eddie at arm's length, but now...

Now he just looks sad.

A few weeks ago, they were close enough for Eddie to hug him when he looked like this. Eddie would crush his own heart with a sledgehammer if it meant they'll go back to that.

He says, "We haven't known each other for long, but you're already one of my best friends. Then it got weird at the end and-"

Steve's face hardens again, eyes tapering with anger.

"Things didn't 'get weird', Eddie. You made them weird. What the fuck?"

And Eddie takes a deep breath and says,

"I like you."

Shock colors Steve's expression; he takes a step back. It takes everything to stop Eddie from following in an attempt to reel him back in.

"I don't know when it started," he says, the confession tumbling out. "I always liked you? You're a good guy and fun to hang with and a great friend, and I guess you were hot, but a ton of guys are hot and it doesn't have to mean anything. I can be straight and still think guys are hot, you know? But then, in Chicago, you came out and I started seeing you differently. So, huh, turns out, in my case? Thinking guys are hot does mean something. And I freaked out because I didn't know what to do. Being close to you made me so nervous, and I couldn't tell you how I felt because just because you like guys doesn't mean you like me, and I already know your type is cute little blond twinks, and-"

"I actually prefer brunets," Steve says.

Eddie chokes on what else he had to say. He looks up at Steve, who's smiling. Kind of shy but mostly bright, eyes crinkling at the corners. His cigarette is almost down to the filter; Steve drops and snuffs it out without looking away from Eddie. His eyes are like gold, glittering.

"Y-you what?"

"I don't really have a type," Steve says, stepping closer. "I like who I like." Another step. "But, uh, most of my relationships have been with brunets." Another step, then stop – they're nose to nose. "Nerdy ones."

Eddie's head spins. He squeaks, "Oh?"

Steve nods. "I like smart, passionate people. And I..." He giggles. "I've had a crush on you since the beginning."

Eddie's head fucking explodes. It leaves a gash in his face that stretches from ear to ear. A breeze blows past, caressing his burning cheeks. It's his turn to giggle.

"You're fucking with me."

Steve tilts his head, but doesn't scrunch his brow this time. No, it remains smooth, but his eyelids droop as his eyes roam Eddie's body.

"So far, only in my head."

Eddie sputters. He grabs a fistful of hair and pulls it in front of his red face. Steve, the bastard, laughs at him. He reaches out, coaxing the locks out of Eddie's grip and tucks them behind his ear. There's an endlessness in his gaze; simultaneously looking through Eddie and at him. Seeing him from every angle, especially the ugly ones, but touching him just as tenderly anyway.

Eddie wets his lips. Since he caused the distance in the first place, it only seems fair he takes the last step. "Do you want to go out with me?" he asks. "A date?"

Steve leans in until they touch from forehead to nose tip.

"Yes," he says. "I do."

#Eddie: It's not that easy!#Narrator:It was in fact that easy #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steddie #steddie fanfic #eddie munson #steve harrington #my writing

2K notes · View notes

besuggestion · 6 months

Text

(for anon 🥰)

One day, a girl notices her chest starts growing, and it won't stop - it seems the temporary solution is to milk herself every night, to get back to normal. Of course, she goes to the doctor to get it checked. The doctor is very confused, and requests a bottle of the milk in order to study it further.

So, that night she milks herself, pouring her milk into a bottle to save for the doctor. When she's done, she puts it in the fridge.

The next day, it's not there. When she asks her mom -

"Your sister took it with her as part of her lunch. Why?"

The girl is much too embarrassed to explain why, and simply decides to try again that night to get some of that milk to the doctor.

---

During her lunch break, the sister tries a little of the milk.

"This tastes weird. Do you think it's gone bad?"

One of her friends grabs the bottle.

"Let me try some. Huh. I don't know. It doesn't taste sour...?"

"What do you mean? Lemme have a taste!"

A group of five girls passes the bottle around, all of them tasting a little bit of the milk - except for one girl, who watches quietly. The girls notice, and shove the bottle towards her.

"Here, you try it, too!"

In the end, they decide to throw it away...but it was too late for that.

They get back to work, settle into their desks, but...

The sister realizes first. Something wasn't right. She felt a little hazy, and something warm was spreading from her stomach. She shrugs it off, but an hour later, the feeling is too intense for her to ignore. And...she now could say for certain that her chest was getting bigger. It was getting tight, and the buttons on her shirt were barely holding it in. And yet, it kept growing, getting slowly bigger, and bigger...

The last button was barely holding on. Before she could be exposed in front of everyone, the sister makes a dash for the restroom - only to see that all of her friends were already there.

"You, too?!" one asks, surprised. It seems as though all of them - well, it was obvious enough to tell that all of them had much bigger chests than before.

"It's...it's getting so big!" another whines, trying to press her tits back into the shirt. It stays for a moment, before popping out with more force than she anticipated, and a button pops off.

All of them go silent. They had never seen their friend like this before, but with her fat, juicy tits sticking out like this, and that cute, flustered expression on her face...

"Mmn!" the same girl moans, and they all watch as her chest grows, getting bigger, the nipples no longer being held back by the bra...

One girl, the one who usually didn't talk much, moves towards the exposed girl, wasting no time before grabbing her tits.

"Hyaa!" she moans, and...milk starts dribbling out.

"Oh, that looks tasty." the woman murmurs, before leaning in to suck on the woman's tits, drinking as much as she can.

The other girls don't know how to react. Their heads were spinning. Could something like this happen? Did that mean...milk would come from their breasts, too?

One girl takes off her shirt and starts milking herself, immediately loosing herself to pleasure. She moans, and the milk drips down, creating a puddle on the floor.

At that, it was like a switch had been flipped. All the girls start touching each other, pressing their milky breasts against other milky breasts, until their bodies were covered with milk, and their heads were filled with nothing but milk...

---

"Oh, there's another bottle of milk."

The next morning, the girl's mom noticed that they still had a bit more milk.

"Wonderful! This is just enough for me to make that cake for my book club!"

#breast expansion #lactation #drinking #corruption

489 notes · View notes

podcastenthusiast · 6 months

Text

I find it really compelling that Astarion appears to have had hobbies when he was enslaved by Cazador.

Things Astarion probably did in between the horrors:

Embroidered and patched up things for himself (and, reluctantly, his siblings). We know this. Practical--I don't get the feeling Cazador was buying them clothes any more than strictly necessary--and a good way to stay sane.

Got really good at picking locks. Also canon. I've seen the interpretation this was to escape shackles, which is possible. But I dunno...he says himself he gave up on escape. More likely I think he was just very bored, and also such a skill offers some comfort should he ever be locked up again for another year.

Learning languages, including Orcish. Canon as well and honestly I'm dying to know how/when he managed this. Did he find a Orcish-Common dictionary? Did he know a half-Orc? Either way I can see him relishing the chance to insult Cazador or his siblings without them knowing.

Reading, as he does all the time at camp. If you can't escape physically, a good story can be a decent distraction for a while. Astarion is intelligent and seems to know a fair bit of history and such. I imagine it wasn't an activity Cazador encouraged. But that wouldn't stop him and Dal, and later maybe Leon if he's feeling brave, forming a secret book club, reading anything at all they could get their hands on, from awful erotica to dry religious texts.

There must have been a brief period where he tried to befriend and train some rats to do his bidding. But he was bad at it and also very hungry. Violet claims to have succeeded.

Music. He hears it everywhere--in the dingy taverns he's sent to, at Cazador's damn parties, on the street--it's too intense for a while after that infamous year of silence. But it also reminds him that he isn't there anymore. Astarion has no gift for musical instruments himself, but he grows to appreciate hearing a good song.

Drinking wine and pretending it doesn't all taste terrible to him now. Sometimes, alone or with Aurelia, he would pretend it's fresh blood instead. Sometimes he would pretend to just be anyone else.

Stealing his siblings' makeup and anything else he wants. None of them really "own" anything after all, he'll say, but will get incredibly annoyed if they in turn take something of his.

Between fights and torments, of which there were so many, I bet he played stupid little games with his siblings. Trying to convince them he died a very cool death or something. Or enlisting Violet's expertise to prank Petras.

One time Yousen finds like a choose your own adventure book (since I dunno if a form of D&D exists in BG3 and if it did they don't have the supplies). Anyway he reads it to the other spawn and by the end of the night Astarion and Petras both have new black eyes and bite marks.

Not saying it was a good time by any means. It wasn't. But it was a very long time not to carve out an occasional diversion. You'd just lose it otherwise.

#bg3 #baldur's gate iii #baldur's gate 3 #astarion

460 notes · View notes

chronically-ghosted · 5 months

Text

stay gold, baby boy

rating: 18+ (expliiiiicit)

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

word count: almost 6K

summary: six months into your friends-with-benefits situation, you institute a new game. A gold star on the board every time Dieter is a good boy. Today, he gets bingo . . . for wearing real pants.

warnings: friends with benefits (with more feelings), oral (m receiving), dom/sub dynamics (guess who subs today!), talks of edging, hair pulling, creampie, piv sex, praise kink, my mother raised me to have better taste in men but fuck it

a/n: remember when i posted this picture? And then this one? Remember how you could hear me yelling from space? Well, @sp00kymulderr has added fuel to the fire – Dieter and stickers. I can’t explain myself except that I was horny and I wanted to take his pants off with my teeth. So I did.

✨gif credit goes to the ever incredible, talented, and enabler of my dieter fantasies @perotovar! she saw me floundering with the header and immediately was like 'hold please i can make his baby cow eyes even better'✨

🤍Masterlist

With your foot on the low table, your ass firmly planted on the middle poofy cushion of the dumpster bin couch at the back of the trailer, thumbnail nibbled between your teeth, you have to admit it’s starting to get a little embarrassing. It’s honestly such a bad look.

Not that he would ever shame you for it. In fact, he’d probably like it.

And it’s not like you waited for him here all day. You had things to do as one of the co-screenwriters on this film. You had things to do and people to see and stuff to organize – all of which had nothing to do with Dieter fucking Bravo.

Okay, so a lot of it actually had to do with him. Lots of scene rewrites, lots of notes from the studio, lots of instances where the two of you had to put your heads together and come up with a solution that made the studio happy and didn’t make you want to claw your eyes out artistically speaking.

Which had led to this.

And the past six months of whatever this is. Working together led to seeing each other (outside of work), to eating with each other, to fucking each other – with the line firmly drawn there.

Whatever you may say about Dieter, the man could compartmentalize in a way that would make Marie Kondo weep with joy. By the way he treated you on set, no one in their right mind would ever have guessed he knew what you looked like naked. Or that he knew your left nostril twitched just before you came.

The same could be said for you too. Out of boredom one morning in the grocery store, you bought a trashy magazine with his face emblazoned across the top – Dieter Bravo and His Lonely Hearts Club. You weren’t one for the gossip rags, but flipping through it, not a single one of his “club members” mentioned his raging praise kink. You bought the damn thing on the spot, giving them all a consolation prize of some sort. Sorry, ladies, guess I win. Ha. Ha.

But, at the edge of the cushion, eyes occasionally flicking between the door and the failing darkness outside, you didn’t feel much like you’d won anything.

In fact, you’d lost. Big time. When all of this had been your stupid idea in the first place.

It had been your idea (and your initiative) to buy a packet of gold star stickers. Like the kind teachers use with their first graders. Actually, exactly like the ones teachers use for their first graders. You couldn’t form words when the woman at the education supply store ringing you up asked, “oh, what grade do you teach?”. You just tossed a twenty at her and booked it, your face painfully hot for a fairly innocuous purchase.

But all of that was his fault for dropping a praise kink and a teacher kink on you all at once the night after you jokingly spanked him with a ruler in front of the director, in-front of his co-star, because he wouldn’t agree to a line change, and he had to excuse himself from the room.

A month later and he forgoes touching himself for a gold star. He agrees to your line changes without argument for a gold star. He picks you up in the morning and drives you home at night for a gold star (you could drive yourself, but there’s always that last minute thing you need to talk to him about so you do it just because it’s easier, really).

He lets you come, over and over again, and keeps nothing for himself – all for a gold star.

Someone is bound to figure it out. They have to. Six months in and you’re getting sloppy. Obvious. What the fuck would you be doing in his trailer at seven o’clock at night after a full day of shooting unless you’re fucking him?

But you, worryingly, can’t find it in you to care.

You had lost your mind, that’s what you lost. Because tonight is the night Dieter gets his final gold star. It’s his reward but you’re about to vibrate out of your skin with want.

(It didn’t matter that you hadn’t seen each other in two weeks and by the third day, an ache had settled in behind your breastbone, one that clutched your phone in your hand, and forced your eyes to the screen every minute, checking for a new text message.

He called on day five, by the way.)

Your neck snaps up when you hear voices outside of the trailer. Laughter, his.

You suddenly feel the need to flatline against the floor in case anyone might see you.

Fuck, and how are you supposed to explain yourself if the someone he is with follows him into the trailer? Too many frightfully bad scenarios and you’re rooted to the floor, unable to make a single decision.

The metal latch clinks and his trailer door swings wide open.

“Yeah, man, I’ll catch you tomorrow.”

You can hear a deep, “see ya” from the other side (maybe Daryl from craft services?) and the scrap-metal trailer squeaks, as the lock clicks shut.

Dieter scratches his cheek, surveying the trailer as if some part of him knows something is different, but his conscious mind can’t figure it out.

Until he turns. And nearly leaps out of his skin.

“Fuckin’ – what are you doing in here? Wait – I thought you left town to scope out the new location in San Diego.”

You want to answer him. You know how – open your mouth and tell him the trip’s been delayed for a few days, nothing serious, timeline bullshit – but you can’t.

It’s officially embarrassing.

It’s embarrassing how turned on by Dieter Bravo you are.

Hair in all kinds of directions, skinny cloth bracelet loose around his wrist, he had pushed up the sleeves of his henley shirt, exposing the thickly drawn triangle over his forearm and the clear one near his wrist. His hand with the rings hangs by his side and something inside of you silently whines.

But what really sets you off, what really makes this embarrassing and terrible because there’s no bluffing here, no hiding your cards and folding – nothing you can do to keep spit from flooding your mouth the longer you look –

He’s wearing pants.

Black with loose belt loops. Zipper and all. A silver button sitting between his hips. Fuck. Just like you told him to. Fuck fuckfuck.

You’re briefly aware when he says your name and you have to make a physical effort to tear your eyes away from that glinting silver eye winking up at you.

Dieter’s frowning, knowing silence isn’t really your thing.

“Are you okay? Why are you –,”

As though it had called his name, his gaze drifts from your face to the table between you and him. Where his scorecard rests with four stars in the Good column, and shockingly, none in the Bad.

His mouth parts, eyes going dark, as the realization hits him like a mack truck.

“Delays,” you say suddenly, preemptively, knowing that normal people usually have some sort of preamble before tearing each other’s clothes off. You stand up a bit straighter, tilt your jaw away from him, gaze leveling him from the end of your nose. You have got to get this thing under control. “Frank ran into some scheduling issues with the boat for the lake scene so, until further notice, the trip to San Diego has been delayed.”

He blinks slowly as if he’d been struck over the back of the heat, mouth parted. He has such fucking gorgeous, fucking perfect lips –

“So you’re here?” he asks, his voice low, disbelieving.

You scoop up the scorecard and step over the table, your shoes long since gone. It’s like his vision narrows the closer you come; he is transfixed, gaze on you as if molded at the seams, as you step up to him. You tap him on the chest once with the corner of the scorecard, excitement and nerves and that ache making you tremble despite your confident appearance.

“So I’m here.”

“On the last day of the week.” Words thick, as if all the moisture had been sucked out of his mouth.

“On the last day of the week.”

“When I,” he swallows thickly, “when I should get my reward.”

God, this kind of power trip should not be making you this wet.

You lift your gaze from his chest, taking in his beautifully dumb-struck face.

“You will.” You nod. “And do you know why?”

His breath quickens, lip between his teeth, when you scratch off the final star from the package and stick it to the Good column.

“Because I was a good boy?”

You toss the scorecard behind you, it clatters onto the table, and you cup the back of his hot neck.

“Because you were a very good boy.”

He stumbles back, knees unsteady, when you kiss him. You see his eyes a split second before you close yours and hot electricity swoops down to the pit of your stomach. It would be mortifying if you just fucked him right here and now – he does deserve something extra special – but fuck – you want his whole hand inside of you.

His warm palm slides across your jaw, pulling you into him, and Dieter breathes, deep and long, inhaling as much as he can. You don’t think he realizes that he’s picked you up off the ground with his arm around your back until he opens his eyes, vision hazy and off-center.

“Go lock the door, baby.”

He nods and puts you back down. You slip off your jacket as he bolts the trailer door shut.

Dieter’s mouth drops open when he turns around and sees you on your knees.

Shit, you should have stolen some knee pads from the costume department.

“Really?”

You smile at him because he asks like a kid that just got offered a puppy for Christmas. You reach towards him and he takes your hand, unsteady on weak knees

“For as long and as much as you want.”

You palm him and Dieter groans, mouth-closed at the sensation, the hard ridge of the metal zipper not one he is entirely familiar with. At least, not like this. Beneath the warm press of your palm, you feel him thicken, harden, and you press more, digging your fingers into his thighs. The muscles in his legs tense, his mouth falls open, as his hips cant forward, desperate for the new weight of the zipper.

“And I won’t make you wait, Dieter,” you say, eyes tripping up from where your hand sits, up to the flash of exposed tummy where his pants have ridden down and his shirt slid up, into his almost surprised gaze. “You’ve been very good, wearing this for me, but I want you to learn why it’s important to wear pants with buttons.”

“I-I t-t-thought,” he tries, voice abruptly cutting off when you nuzzle the constrained bulge in his pants. He tries again, eyes slamming shut as if to stifle the sensation of your warm breath so near to where he needs you the most. “I thought i-it was so I d-din’t – didn’t look bad.”

Your face still pressed into his crotch, you briefly massage his calves, then the backs of his thighs. You cup the curve of his ass through the starchy back pockets, which is remarkably prominent now that he’s in something else than baggy sweatpants.

You shake your head, nose dragging along his hot length, against the space between his hip bone and his cock, smiling.

“Baby, you know I like how you look. I always want you to be comfortable.” You look up and meet his eyes. The remaining brown not yet wholly consumed by a blurry, heated darkness softens. Somewhere beneath the hazy, disarming feelings of lust currently filling his head like a bike tire, he’s still your Dieter. Or – well, wait – at least the Dieter you know. The Dieter you have impossibly fun times with. The Dieter who makes you laugh like no one else. The Dieter that can make you fall apart until you’re a gooey, dripping mess and he still manages to stitch you back together. The Dieter that keeps you up at night thinking he might possibly want something more. “But this is so much more fun.”

Grounding your chest against his thighs, holding yourself against him as leverage, you sink your teeth into the corner of the fabric fastening his pants together. Eyes up at him again, you tug and his cock is pushed up against your tits from the force of the pull. He rocks forward, an airy gasp escaping his mouth, and the button gives, the lip of the fabric sliding back as the silver disk slips through the hole. Now your touch is unimpeded by rough fabric when you lean forward and kiss him just below the waistband of his black boxers.

It takes you a second to realize that Dieter Bravo is wearing underwear at all and you smirk up at him.

Something about your gaze makes the tips of his ears go red, as if he had been caught being very naughty. His big hand cups from your jaw to your ear, as if trying to placate you, beg you not to be mad this close to his cock.

“You said I had to dress u-up,” he says, eyes wide and round. God, he’s trying to be so good. One week of the rating system and Dieter Bravo is a trembling mess. Despite your wildly beating heart, you smirk, your thighs shaking briefly at the sudden rush of tenderness you feel for the man in front of you. You hide your own blush by mouthing that open spot just below his tummy and above his cock, wetting the black material with your tongue. Before he can whine about it, you pull back just barely, enough to curl your fingers around both his black underwear and the pants he wore for you. Just as you begin to pull down, you nip the zipper between your teeth and slowly, slowly, rubbing your nose against him, tug the metal teeth apart. His pants open and Dieter groans loudly. He’s already so sensitive.

For a mouthy, ego-driven bastard, he really did have a magnificent cock. Flushed at the base, thickest you’d ever had inside you, and he’s leaking silvery threads from the head. The vein thickly pulsating on the side makes you wonder how he hasn’t passed out from all the blood rushing to his cock.

You lick that vein, that beating pulse, and his knees buckle. His massive hand grips your shoulder and Dieter shakes his head, his mouth wrenching open.

“Please, please — mhmm — don’t tease. I-I can’t – you haven’t – please.”

As if you would be cruel to him. You feel rather dizzy, elated on the idea that you wield this much power over him. That he trusts you with all of him. There it comes again, that arching ache in your chest.

“I’m just trying to get myself ready for you,” you confess quietly. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”

Dieter swallows something large in his throat, panic receding from his eyes. His smile is small and his touch on your cheek is light.

“I know.”

And you weren’t lying. You’d never forget the sound of your jaw popping and cracking the morning after you sucked him off three times before you let him come. Dieter is shockingly big, annoyingly only when he uses it against you or makes you tell him over and over just how big he is before giving it to you. For now, you just want to remind him how very appreciative you are that he gives it to you at all.

Eyes decidedly looking away from the warmth on his face, you squeeze the backs of his thighs as you relax your jaw as much as you can. Above you hear him huff with his mouth shut as you start to take him in, your tongue wetting that soft skin on the underside of his cock. One move forward and you’ve wet him halfway, tongue massaging that vein. Another drop of your head and you’ve taken him completely.

“Fuck,” Dieter murmurs, the hand on your shoulder tightening. Your heart pounds in your chest all the harder when he takes his other hand and knots your hair with his fingers. By the twitching of his thighs beneath your palms, you know it’s taking every ounce of his restraint to not buck his hips forward. “That’s it that’s my girl you take me so fucking good you feel so fucking good.”

The thing about your mouth that is markedly different from your pussy: you can’t release your gag reflex to take more of him. But fuck, you want him to fuck the back of your throat – you just might drown before it happens.

He smells surprisingly clean as your nose inches closer and closer to his skin. With each pull, you slide your tongue down the other side, until it pokes through and licks where you haven’t reached with your mouth yet, inches from his pelvis. He shudders when you use the tip of your tongue.

“Oh my god, your mouth, baby, your mouth.” The words dribble out of his slack mouth, fingers flexing in your hair as if he can mimic pushing your head down further. You pull all the way off him, tongue catching the rim of his cock and he drops his head back against his shoulders and moans. The sound of it makes your pussy throb and you breathe out your nose to stifle your own noises. This is about him. He did good. He was a good boy the whole week.

You replace your mouth with your hand. Sufficiently wet from the way you slobbered all over his cock, you use a fist around his flushed head to smear pre-cum all the way down to the base of him. You brush his balls with your knuckles, just as you fit the tip between your lips, sucking – and Dieter bucks, hard.

“Ngh – shit! S-sorry!” His nails dig into his thighs, eyes squeezing shut as silvery threads spurt out from his cock.

Maybe you’d gone too far with the whole sticker thing and he really thought this was another test. His cheeks are burnt pink, his chest heaving and it’s one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen.

“Dieter,” you cry softly, gently, comfortingly. He still doesn’t open his eyes, not even when you resume stroking him. You lick the soft skin of his balls and his gasp punches the air out of his lungs, his eyes splitting open. He looks down at you, thighs trembling and you squeeze him gently. Not to edge him or punish him, but to make this last a bit longer for him. “Dieter, take your shirt off and sit down.”

He can’t move fast enough. He yanks the henley over his shoulders, the collar scraping his hair up in wild directions. He goes to sit but his thighs are shaking too much and he just sort of tumbles onto his ass. Smiling, you take your own shirt off, hoping to save this particular bra reveal for another time, but fuck, this time is as good as any. Despite his panting and squirming, his gaze rolls from your face to your tits. Emerald green with black lace, this is far too nice for a work bra and it properly communicates to him that you were going to fuck him whether or not he was going to get that final gold star. The realization is visible as it crosses his mind, bleeding hungry black in his eyes.

You take off his pants all the way, before sliding your own jeans down and to the floor. His roving gaze catches the matching panties and the noise in his throat is deep, like a smothered grunt.

“Now, I’m going to suck you off no matter what,” you say as you crawl in between his legs, before leaning back and sitting on your heels. You smooth your hands down his thighs, near his red, stark cock, but not touching. Dieter’s breathing hitches in anticipation, not sure where to put his hands or his gaze. “But I want you to answer one question for me first.”

He nods rapidly, spreading his knees further for you as if to remind you there’s other places he could be fucked.

“Why did you think I was going to punish you today?”

You’ve asked this question paraphrased a dozen times, usually when you both know the answer: he came without asking, or he came by himself, or any of the dozen reasons Dieter liked to push your buttons, only for you to break him as far as he can go. But today, there’s no sultry edge, no double meaning. Your question is sincere and it takes him a moment to understand. He swallows as his eyebrows tug down on his forehead, something vulnerable flashing in his eyes before a look of uncertainty crosses his face.

“We’ve never had sex just to have sex.” He says it like a question. He settles into the floor one hand going behind his head, the linear tattoo on his forearm dark like a third eye. “Not that I’m complaining but it’s always a competition, or because we’re bored, or you wanna work out some personal shit because of the costume department. I know this is my reward, but I figured there had to be some kinda catch to it.”

You frown deeper than him. “There’s no way we haven’t had normal sex.”

Something like a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Define normal sex.”

Now it’s your turn to go warm across the cheeks. “I mean, like . . . outside of . . . our roles. Where there aren’t roles at all. It’s just . . .”

You break off for the third time, the look in his eyes forcing you to snap your mouth shut before you say something incriminating like, just us.

Dieter shakes his head. “No, we haven’t.”

“You’re telling me in six months, that’s never happened once?” You adjust on your heels and cross your arms. “It’s not like you can remember every time we’ve had sex.”

“I do.” This, coming from him, is not a question. It’s an irrefutable statement that you don’t seem able to refute with a no you don’t. There is no room for arguing.

Driving right on through the heat of your cheeks, that ache returning, you shake your head. “Then doesn’t that get old? Having to play games every single time?”

Dieter pouts as he thinks, eyes on the roof of the trailer. “Sometimes, but I don’t mind. Not enough to want to stop fucking you.”

“So, after a week of nothing, you were totally willing to let me edge you within an inch of your life? Let me treat you badly?”

Dieter smirks and it suddenly feels like you’re the one under him. “Sure, but you like me too much to keep it going for too long. And you like watching me come.”

Your teeth grind together at this very bold accusation, your entire face blazing. Weren’t you supposed to be domming him today??

His feet slide out beside you and Dieter is the very picture of arrogance, his arm still tucked behind his head. He drums his fingers on his stomach.

“If it makes you feel any better,” he says, the smirk around his mouth soft, “I like you too.”

It doesn’t. Not really. Not when his words spear through you hot and hard, landing in your chest like a landmine. Fuck.

Fuck.

“Oh, so this is all for me, then?” You ignore the fact that you’ve slipped back into your role in active defiance of talking about this anymore, and crawl forward until your forearms frame his head. That teasing contentment fades from his face as he watches you, eyes following a line that only he can see from your nose, lips, chin, throat and tits. Your hair slips off your shoulder, darkening the light on his face when you straddle his waist. “But what about you? Don’t you want to come?”

He nods, slower than before, but only to keep from breaking eye contact with you. Light as feathers, Dieter trails his fingers up the backs of your thighs, over the curve of your ass, to settle into your hips. His mouth parts in anticipation, pink tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip.

“I do,” he says, rolling his neck as if he can see more of you this way. “I really fuckin’ do.”

“What a coincidence.” You shift down, dragging the wet patch on the emerald green underwear beneath your drooling cunt, shift until it slides across his half-hard cock and Dieter’s hands dig into your hips, a groan breaking off in the back of his throat. His eyes slip half-closed, a thick, smoky black enveloping that beautiful brown. “So do I.”

Grinding down over so slightly, you roll your hips once more – Dieter tenses, his hands easing to the tops of your thighs – before sitting back on his knees.

“Now relax, baby, you’ve earned it.”

You drop forward over his hips, open your mouth, and slurp him up between your lips.

The noise that comes out of his chest is broken, knocked loose, split down the middle. You take him all in one, down until your nose is tickled by his coarse hairs, and you swallow. He is immediately, instantly, rock hard and dribbling. You swallow again and his hands dive into your hair, knotting the strands around his fingers, the way a rider draws up the reins of his horse. He goads you down with just gentle pressure, needy and demanding all at once, and you take him, and you take him, and you take him until the blunt head prods the back of your throat and you gag, throat constricting, and Dieter’s eyes roll back in his head.

“Shit, that’s too fucking good.”

You breathe out your nose, pulling up just enough to keep him off your reflex, but instead you hollow out your cheeks and suck, tongue pressing up against him and around that hammering vein.

And here, here comes the sound you’ve wanted from him all night –

Dieter whines, high and keening, his neck straining, your skull pinching from where he pulls. Between your thighs, the emerald green is completely ruined, buffed out dark in the wet.

The vein throbs again and you nearly drop onto your elbows, not caring if you choke or drown or sputter, you want him in your mouth, you want that salty, gooey taste of him that you find you can’t seem to lick up enough. You want him inside you –

With a grunt that morphs into a groan as it rises up his chest, he tugs hard enough on your hair that the pain splits your mouth open, head tugged back enough that he slips out of you, a thread of pre-cum from your puffy lips to the tip of his blunt head.

You lied. This wasn’t entirely for him.

You can feel your lips twist into a snarl. “Dieter, what are you –,”

He kisses you with such a force, that noise in his chest is transferred to yours, a collision that sparks a causal nexus and his own desperation bleeds with your own. The kiss is messy, dizzying, spit and pre-cum smearing across swollen lips and wet tongues. He twists his fingers deeper into your hair, as if he can consume you through the bowl of your skull.

Your name is something that tumbles, falls, drips from him, his mouth tilted a fraction of an inch away from yours. Eyes dark, full, a beast that howls for the moon in your eyes.

He’s going to fuck your brains out on the floor of this rickety-ass trailer.

Dieter tugs you forward, drags you onto your knees over him as he settles beneath you. Your fingers knock with his in a fight to reach your panties first, to shove them down your hips and thighs, get them to the floor.

Dieter’s flushed, pupils dark, big hands grappling against the weight of you as he pulls you onto him. You are so aroused, so sunken into the smoke of lust, you go as you are moved, his cock smearing apart your wet pussy. Dieter sits up, eyes locking onto where you’ve nearly become a single creature, and then he hesitates.

Sanity seems to ring his bell, for just a moment. Without waiting, he sucks two fingers into his mouth, coating them with his spit, and you can see what he’s about to do just before he moves. You shake your head, knees aching from carrying your weight against the flat trailer floor, and sit up off him, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

“Don’t need it,” you mutter before licking into his mouth. He drops his head back to let you sink your tongue between his lips. Both hands wrapped around his jaw, you thumb his earring and he grunts out the side of his mouth. “I want –,”

His big hands settle and it’s like he dropped a thousand pound weight between your ribs. You drop, right onto him, his cock forcibly shoving you apart in a single thrust. Dieter barks out a moan, his hands clutching your spine, teeth going for your shoulder to muffle anything else that threatens to escape him.

You swear your nerves are on fire.

He always takes his time with you, for your benefit, and his. He can be maddening and incessant and demanding, right up until this part, the part where he could actually hurt you. Right then, he waits. Lets you come to him. Let you take as much as you want and he holds you tight.

But this, this is you taking all you want and then some.

In the split second you allow for your bodies to recognize the give and the take, the swell and the invasion, you meet his gaze.

No roles. No games. No landmines.

Exposure.

Blistering and brittle.

Safety.

You curl your toes underneath you, grip his shoulders, and slide up on an inhale. On an exhale, you thrust down and you don’t know who cries out louder.

Dieter pulls you to him, arm banded around your back, the other to balance as he leans back to meet your downward strokes with his upward thrusts. His fingers pinch the clasp of your bra and the straps slide off your shoulders, your frantic bouncing knocking those emerald cups loose.

“Oh, yeah, oh fuck yeah.” He mouths at your collarbone, tonguing the sweat that blooms across your skin. Your short huffs have your chest trembling, a shudder disrupting your breath when he uses the blunt edge of his teeth against the soft curve of your breast. His nose against your skin, he turns his head and licks your nipple into his mouth. He sucks, licks, your rapid rise and fall catching your sensitive peak against the tops and bottoms of his teeth. He uses the barest hint of pressure and your back arches. He sucks your other nipple into his mouth, repeating that same pattern with his tongue, while his fingers flick your hardened bud.

You think you’re going to melt, fracture and ooze into this hot pool of pleasure that hums between your legs.

“Fuck, Dieter,” your own voice is unrecognizable, breathy and high, cut short every time his hips meet yours in a harsh slap, “I can’t –,”

He rubs up against something truly devastating inside of you and immediately your legs give out. You topple into him, arms around his neck, nose pressed up against his jaw. You feel his overheated skin, a balm, a solidifying force, against your cheek. The whirling inferno in your head soothes. A drop of sweat from his hairline trails down by your eye and you lick it.

“Make me come, Dieter,” you whisper for him, of him, beg in a way that only he can hear. You nuzzle his earring and he keens. “Please – I need it – n-n-need you.”

Open-mouthed, breath hot, flush down to his chest, he slithers the hand against your back between your warm bodies and finds your clit. Drags his thumb across it as his hips pound up into you – you can’t hear what he says in your ear, the edge you’re dangling over loud and pulsing – and then there’s a softness against your throat.

The white spark between your thighs erupts and you come so hard you scream. A release. Controlled and contained brightness now spilling out everywhere, you can feel it as you soak his lap. It drips and winds down, and it drunkenly slides off you. Finally, you curl into him, a muddled tingle radiating out across your nerves.

You sink into your skin again and hear him, still whispering, still talking.

“You’re so fucking beautiful when you come it’s okay baby I’ve got you I’ve got you I’m here – I’m gonna – g-gonna – oh, shit,”

His hips thrust up one more time before a full body shudder yanks his words and the air right out of his mouth. You melt as his cum floods your insides, the warm pulses intoxicating in the place he so forcefully claimed for his own. His shoulders curved towards you, his hand pinches the knot of your spine as if to steady himself, palm scalding against your skin. In your exhaustion, your sweaty forehead falls against his.

He doesn’t seem to mind.

Seconds mold into minutes, minutes into maybe hours then days.

Dieter’s trembling elbow finally weakens and with his arm around your back, he tips you both backwards.

His cock rubs up inside of you in a new way and your cunt clenches involuntarily. You both groan when his cum leaks out of you, squeezed out by the contraction. You shift your hips to lay fully on him, and his cock slides out, but his arm around you remains.

It remains long after your breathing settles, long after the sweat dries and your exposed skin grows cold. The longer you lay together, the more you feel he’s going to start stroking you, touching you in a way that a fuck buddy shouldn’t. But he doesn’t. He keeps you close but doesn’t move.

The feeling, the ache in your chest. It’s soothed and hastened by the beating of his heart beneath yours, your ear lying flat against his chest. It beats so loudly for you.

For some unfathomable reason, you glance up at the window. It’s dark out, the sun set and gone. For all you know, you two might be the only two people on the entire lot.

“Dieter.” His name sticks in your mouth. “Dieter, I –,”

“Five stars?”

You blink, lifting your head for the first time in ages, sweat on his skin almost suctioning your ear to his chest. He’s grinning, curls matted and damp against his forehead.

He reaches up to the table behind him and snags that stupid bingo card, along with that packet of shiny gold star stickers.

This feeling, you can contain it.

For now.

Smirking down at him, you peel off one of the bigger stars and with your thumb, you press it into the center of his forehead.

“Five stars, Dieter. Five star dick.”

His smile widens.

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #the bubble fanfic #the bubble 2016 #the bubble fic #the bubble fanfiction #pedro pascal #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo x oc #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfic #the bubble

264 notes · View notes

dominodamsel · 1 year

Text

(Post Game) Jabberwock Book Club Meeting Derailed by Single Tube of Nail Polish!

Hinata wants to join and get his nails done so bad but he can't bring himself to admit to it bc he's supposed to be masc (and Komaeda will not take pity on him & call him over even though he noticed)

I like to think Sonia and Komaeda become friends post-game & hang out in the library due to their shared tastes in genre (mystery and true crime) + I don't remember where Jabberwock is exactly but I doubt its main language was Japanese so good chance Komaeda is going to need Sonia's help if he wants to read any surviving books there. Tsumiki gets recruited into it too because I love Komaeda and Tsumiki becoming unlikely friends post-game (literal worsties, big fan) and it becomes a full fledged, weekly meetings having book club.

As for what they're wearing, since post-game the remnants live off of charity from the Future Foundation, I like to think they get these big shipping containers filled with second-hand clothes, and they're usually kind of weird lol. Only Komaeda ALWAYS finds something that's just his style. Souda especially is so mad every single time but no matter how bitter a hater he is Komaeda remains styling. pensive emoji

#sdr2 #komaeda nagito #sonia nevermind #tsumiki mikan #danganronpa #super danganronpa 2 #it feels soooo silly posting sth that requires this much explanation btw. dont judge me #my draw

872 notes · View notes

keyboard-clicks · 1 year

Text

Anyone ever think about Harry returning to work and his apartment and trying to get back to life as it was before even though he doesn’t remember it only to have a breakdown not just bc he’s living in the ruins of the life his old self destroyed but also the world is suddenly way too big and he has too much to do with it?

Like he breaks down and tries to explain it to Kim (because who else would he call? Who else would listen?) and it’s like. Martinaise was simple. He had one primary objective: find the murderer. That was it. That was his responsibility. Everything else was extra.

He had a shack to stay in, or a room to rent for réal he could make picking trash up off the street. He had Kim. He had a shop with books and board games and a woman who made cool dice. He had someone who would explain how the world works to him and not condescend about it. He had a book club and a mysterious smoker on the balcony and a woman who gave him a hug, even when she thought he was just a weird stranger. He had kids of all shapes and sizes to remind him of how terrible and wonderful life could be.

But back in Jamrock, what does he have? Coworkers who stare at him, who know things he wishes he could remember while they want to forget. A trash-filled apartment. Mementos that bring up memories that taste like bile. Rent payments, bills for water and heating and electricity, food in the fridge that’s weeks expired. A landlord who doesn’t care if Harry “got amnesia so bad [he] forgot [he] had to pay him”, he’s here to collect. A dwindling bank account meant to handle everything. Bus schedules and paths through an unfamiliar city, traffic and too many faces to remember. Forms he doesn’t remember how to fill out, schedules he can’t recall how to keep. Assignments he doesn’t remember the protocol for. Appointments and responsibilities and questions from everyone around him asking about everything, trying to help but making it more confusing because there’s just So MUCH.

Martinaise was simple. Martinaise feels like home now, like how Kim feels like home, like how a baby duck hatches and imprints on the first thing it sees. To Harry, that’s all the world was so long as he was there. It was all he remembered and all he needed. He knew his role and how to fill it. But now he’s left floating though a world that has a place carved out for him but into which he can no longer fit.

#i WAS writing about this at one point #but the hard drive with the story uhhhhh may not be working anymore #disco elysium #harrier du bois #harry du bois #de meta

862 notes · View notes

milfism-blog · 3 months

Text

“Sarò La Tua Bambina Di San Valentino”

“I will be your Valentine baby girl”

Summary: While on vacation in Sicily, you ran into a hot readhead. What might happen when a bolt of electricity will go through both of you? Will this relationship only last at the resort? Is it just Melissa's first sexual experiment or the unexpected beginning of a blissful relationship? You should probably find out…

Warning: Comphet, Melissa being confused over her sexuality, mention of Gerry, a little bit of angst, fluff, smutty, explicit content. Read at your own risk!

Word Count: 5,3k

Author's note: It is my first smutty fic! Feedback is always appreciated! Have fun reading!

02.01.2023. Sicily, Palermo

You went on your first trip to Italy, Palermo specifically. You heard a lot about the beautiful city and of course the food. So in one click you booked tickets and of course a luxurious hotel. In addition, you lately noticed you have a type for confident Italian women so you planned to go all crazy for the trip. It was your vacation after all. No one knows who you are there and you can do anything without worrying about your work colleagues making videos and making fun of you later. You were already embarrassed at the working New years party with your co-workers. You are like a big family of best friends and of course, you all were drunk and made a lot of stupid decisions. Explicitly flirting with an older Italian woman you met in a club that night. Even though it was one month ago. Your friends are still making fun of you.

Actually screaming: “Beware milfhunter might steal one of yours moms!”

And if god heard your thoughts about hot Italian women. You saw one in the lobby of a hotel. Bright red hair caught your attention immediately. Dark squared glasses were keeping her hair from covering her beautiful face. Her massive golden earrings were reflecting the warm sun. It took some time for you to take in all her gorgeous curves. She was in a jumpsuit with a deep V neck which caught your attention. You were shamelessly staring at her gorgeous breasts without a bra. Your fantasy was running wild. You would not be surprised if your mouth was open. Without exaggeration, she looked like a goddess with olive skin you wanted to desperately touch and find out how soft it would feel. Is it as soft as it looks? Oh god this is going to be a ride.

You probably were staring for a good amount of time since she noticed and now she was looking straight into your eyes. They were a deep shade of green. You felt like a bolt of electricity went right through both of you. As if she was sending lightning bolts through her gorgeous eyes. And gosh her glare sent chills on your skin.

The next day you went for breakfast and again you saw her there. She looked even more magnificent than yesterday. The morning sun was giving her olive skin a natural glow. Her deep green eyes were shining a light shade of olive. She had minimum makeup on. Just mascara to highlight her eyes and clear lip gloss. Her lips looked so full, so juicy as the most desired fruit. You wanted to taste them so bad.

When you left your table you went straight to your hotel suite. Unknowingly for you, she has followed you down the staircase. She was quietly observing you. You felt a strong gaze on your backless dress. The chills were back again. When you were about to open the door she pinned you down that hardwood door. You were shocked, to say the least. When you looked at the stronger woman. Her pupils were delayed. Not a single hint of green, only black. You were just staring at her eyes. Your heart was beating so fast as if it was going to jump from your rib cage. You missed the satisfied smirk on the redhead's lips. She was enjoying the power she was having over you. You looked like a lost mouse caught by a cat. So lost,so innocent, so deliciously accessible for her to use you. You tried to move but she pinned you harder.

“You are not going to escape me, little mouse, now are you? Pretty innocent girl is scared now? Where did all the courage go?” She asked in a mocking tone.

Her voice sent you into a starstruck phase. So raspy, deeply rich voice. Fitted her personality so well. Dominant Italian woman pinning you against your room door, what can be better?

Your eyes traveled from her beautiful eyes to her deliciously juicy lips. You gave in to the urge to passionately kiss her. And you went for it. Since she pinned your arms you tilt your head and went hard for the kiss. Your lips were desperate to get a taste of her. Her lips were as soft as silk. You couldn't hold the desperate whimper. She tasted like sweet Italian wine. Her delicate lips sent you into a euphoric state. When you took a needy breath closer to a moan. You smelled her sweet yet mucus sent. That you're gonna remember for sure. When you went again so desperately neddy for the taste to bite down her lip. So she would remember the next day who she kissed. And with that, she stopped you.

“No, no little mouse, that's not how deals are made. You are gonna listen to me and do everything I am telling you to do. Understood?” She rasped out.

Your knees buckled at her voice and demanding tone. You were not sure if you could even speak. You just nodded in surender.

“No, sweet girl, I need to hear your voice.”

“Yes ma`am" You said with a trembling voice.

“Good girl. Now open the door for me” She said in her deep voice. With a smirk on her face. She knew the effect her voice, her hands were having on you.

With weak, trembling legs you opened the door. Almost instantly you felt strong arms on your waist. She suggestively walked you down to your bedroom and pushed you on bed. You started to take your clothes down but she stopped your actions.

“No, bambina, let mommy take down all the clothes. You need to listen closely, baby. I have some rules for you. No touching mommy without asking, you're gonna listen to my instructions and behave.”

Oh if she knew the fire you were feeling all over your sensitive skin. Her delicate yet strong hands were tearing your clothes apart. The warmth from her palms was burning your skin. You already were at the edge since her first glance. You were so eager to please a marvelous stranger. The only thing you wanted her to do is use you so the only thing you will remember will be her title, her taste, her scent, her, only her.

“Come here bambina, let mommy ride your face”

You could not believe your luck, a stunning woman asking you to please her. How can you decline this delightful offer? It felt like a fever dream. She was teasingly slow taking down her clothes. She was purposely swaying her hips as if she was a predator and you were her prey. Her mouse.

She gave your neck a few bites here and there, not even bothering to smooth them. when she glanced at your face. You were totally blissed out. Completely at her mercy.

She took down her ruined panties and took a seat on your face. Your senses were filled with her significant scent. The first lick was experimental to taste her. Her taste was a little mix of salt and sweetness. It was like blessed nectar. Your warm tongue licked her delicate labia. Her hips rolled at the action. You tried to steady her with your hands, but she slept them away.

“Remember the rules little mouse” she said, sternly.

You liked her again this time with more force. You made it your goal to memorize every curve, moan, whimper, curse. You wanted to drink her nectar, you're gonna take anything she is gonna give you. Her mind blowing taste was addictive, you wanted to eat her all. To give her the best orgasm in her life. You were softly nibbling at her sensitive skin. Swirling your tongue on a fragile rose. You gently pecked her clit. She groaned. You suck on it licked it and kiss it. She was slowly losing control. She was whimpering over you.

“ahh, yes, like this, good girl!” She cried out.

Your tongue went diaper into her core, you were restless. Setting the faster rhythm. To send her over the age sooner. Since the goddess above you forbid you to use your fingers. You decided to challenge her with your skilled tongue. Switching between the suction of her bundle of nerves and going in teasing techniques of her core. Your face was covered in her sweet arousal. You were practically drowning in her scent. juices and moans.

“Don't tease miele, mommy is going to reward you, ahh like this!”

You find her spongy spot deep in her core. You gave it a few light licks. With these actions, her hips were bucking back. Her moans became louder. She was playing with her full breasts to add more pleasure to her body. Your hands were scratching the olive skin of her thighs. Leaving red marks behind on a warm flesh. Giving more sensations and stimulation. Your tongue was skillfully going up and down her core. Small kisses here and there on her overstimulated clit. With each passing second her hips were swinging, she was trying to escape your experienced tongue. Your hands were clutching her thighs diligently. Every lick, suck, nibble was bringing her faster to the edge. Her breasts were bouncing. Her nipples were screaming for attention, she tried to pinch them in hopes it would make the ache to go away. She tugged on your hair. This action made you groan at the sensation. Long lasting vibrating suck of her clit sent her over the edge. She was desperately moaning.

“You are such a good girl, little mouse” She praised you in pure bliss.

She fell on your torso. You gently kissed her. Letting her taste her pleasure. She moaned at her taste. You kissed her cheek and went straight down to clean her up with your delicate tongue. You cannot waste the sweet nectar. She whined at the overstimulation. You tenderly lapped the remains of her juices. Firstly on creamy thighs occasionally sucking on the skin. Finishing with a tender kiss right on her clit.

“That was the best orgasm in my life. You did pretty well for a little submissive mouse.” She said truthfully

“Now it is your turn bambina, mommy keeps her promises.”

With these words she crawled over you. Her usual demeanor is back. She is ready to make you squirm and cry.

What was supposed to be just a one night stand for both of you became something more, such as regular meetings, mind blowing sex, breakfast together, drinking wine together, deep talks. Simply just enjoying the company of each other. Just two of you against the world. Hell, you even moved in together, if you can call it like that. She was staying in the president lux. Big rooms, personal pool, jacuzzi, amazing balcony where you had the best talks. Her green eyes will haunt you forever. You already were feeling like you were falling in love. But you had to remind yourself, “It is just resort romance, nothing more, at least for her.”

Here comes your last day together on the 14th of February, day of love. But you could not escape the emptiness in your heart. Last day until she will disappear forever…

To your surprise, she ordered fruits and candles to set a romantic atmosphere. When you walked into the room soft jazz music was playing. Melissa walked to you with the bouquet of flowers in hand. You almost cried at the site. This is so sensual, beautiful. No one has ever done this for you. But she did. Maybe she was the one?

This gonna be one of your core memories. She already stole your heart. The goodbyes are going to be really painful.

“Are you okay? Hon?” She repeated nervously, trying to figure out what was wrong. You were just staring at her beautiful green orbs.

“If it is too much I'm so sorry I should not have to make it!” She sounded nervous, almost panicking.

You whispered, resting the warmth of your hands on her shoulders.

“I adore this so much! I've never had somebody do this for me. I really appreciate it.” You gave her assurance. caressing her and kissing her on the lips.

That final day gave you the impression of being a married couple right out of the honeymoon stage. She was carrying and completely open with you. You were both extremely delighted and nauseous from it. Tomorrow you will be flying to your home and family in a few hours. But somehow, without her, none of that made sense. Melissa was a tough woman. You figured that out while technically living together. But that specific night she let her guard down for you. And you could see the sadness in her eyes. Especially in the intimate moments when she was feeding you with a strawberry, kissing became more slow and desperate. That night was no power dynamic, just pure love and sensual kisses.

“I'm going to miss you little mouse” She spoke with obvious anguish in her voice as she conveyed her thoughts.

With these words, you shared a last kiss. You felt like part of you died with you that day…

3 months later

When you came back home you were in absolute despair. You were missing her so much it was physically hurting you. Everything, absolutely everything was reminding you of her. You were checking your phone every day in hopes of seeing a message or even a call from the redhead. Even your friends were worried for you. You spent the last three months by yourself mostly doing all your job responsibilities from home. You were looking through her pictures you took when she was unaware. Completely without makeup, happy. She was a big softie with you. One time you heard her perfume on the street. You looked like an absolutely lost dog looking for its owner. She was the only owner of your heart.

Melissa was going through one of the most challenging crises in her life. Her vocation in Palermo completely changed her as a woman and as a person. When she booked the tickets to Italy she hoped she would find a hot young guy to hook up with. That fresh blood and dick will make her forget asshole Gary. That random stranger will make her feel loved and finally, she will cum. Because apparently Gary did not know anything about a woman`s body. He was a clueless idiot and she was simulating her pleasure, he did not notice the change at all. The idiot proposed to her even though they talked a lot about the subject. He just could not or did not want to hear what his woman wanted. She was so tired of being lonely and sad all the time. Her love life was a wreck. But then you came into her life. Shamelessly staring at her but strangely she liked it. You were different, not like all the men she had been with. All her life she blocked the part of her that was thinking about experimenting with girls. Just the one thought of experimenting with a person of her gender was sending her into a panic.

But. You.

She was not ready to share with you that you were her first woman she slept with. To be completely honest she thought she was just gonna use you as fulfillment of her needs and that would be it. But the way you were looking at her, so pure, so innocent, so happy. It broke her heart to think that she was just gonna use you so she just gave it a go. “No one is going to find out” she was saying to herself every day. Of course, all her thoughts and behavior were just echoes of the stigma. Liking women at her time was counting as something she should be ashamed of and better work this problem out by marrying a man. So he can cure her.

She managed to hide that “dirty” part of herself.

But then you appeared and showed that being loved by another woman is rather a blessing than a curse. The love was so gentle, understanding, and calming. And after all, nothing bad happened, she did not die on the spot as she was told. None of the bad things she heard were true. And then she saw all the great things about you such as you understood her by just looking right into her eyes, you were gentle and honest with her no one has done this for her. The guys just did not care about her pleasure and her as a person in general. Oh and your soft gentle lips, kind eyes, humor, everything about you…

While she was lost in her thoughts, realization struck her like a frigid wave. She fell in love... Just in two weeks with a mischievous stranger. Firstly she blamed herself for letting her guard down she let herself be emotional, feel emotions, experience emotions. That's what she mastered during her life. Put the guard up, be emotionless and life will be easy. Her exes used to tell her “Why are you acting like a bratty girl, stop being so emotional, jeezz are you on your period again?” So she stopped being emotional at all. But now her well-being was dependent on her happiness, on you. So she decided to break this circle of negative emotions and call you and tell you how she feels about you, and maybe ask you to be her girlfriend. To become hers.

02.14.2024.

United States of America, South Philadelphia

It was Valentine's Day again. You felt a sense of dejavu reliving all the memories from the past. It took long enough for The Melissa Ann Kathrine Schemmenti to finally ask you out and ask you officially to be her girlfriend. But you didn't mind. You would wait for her as long as needed. She was like your special delicate, sensitive flower, you were a caretaker, you were patient and loving to see her blossom for you. When she did you were stunned by her true colors and personality. There were no masks, facade for both of you. Just pure love. You wanted to make her feel extra special on this day, which was also your anniversary (almost, but nonetheless). And it is going to be your first Valentine's as a couple. So exciting!

But since you want to make this day special that does not mean you will not tease her. You like to push her buttons and see her reaction. And today was even more thrilling. You bought special lingerie for the occasion. Of course, you like to spoil your girl by buying new lingerie and see her reaction. You created a plan, you went to buy a new undergarments set. To your luck on Valentine's, there are a lot to choose from. One looked specifically spicier than the others, that's what you need! It had heart-shaped cutting on the nipples, with a light pink lace. It gave your breasts amazingly good lift even though this piece did have a push-up effect. To finish the lustful garment there is a cherry red thong with a small heart with a text that says “Eat me”. You put that on, you looked absolutely amazing. Reds and pinks colors were bringing accent to your skin tone, the thong was giving your ass more roundness. Mel would definitely like it. You also found light pink stockings, oh you knew how this look would make Melissa go absolutely crazy over you.

Your mind visited a naughty thought. You took your phone it lit up with the photo of you and your girlfriend laughing in Palermo. Your heart swelled with love. You opened the camera app and began to pose. The first one was you touching your unique bra, using your other hand to cover your nipples a little bit. The other one was you bending down and putting your ass up purposely to give it more roundness. Maybe it was not smart to take these photos and send them to your beloved Melissa during work but just thought about seeing her flustered and a little nervous. The thought of you turning her on was seducing you too much. And of course, you wanted to have fun tonight. In no time you got a response.

La mia dea italiana (my Italian goddess)

“Oh bambina, don't start something you can't finish, but the set look exquisite on you or I rather should say you look exquisite my darling.”

But you know her tough response is a facade. In reality, she is sitting in her classroom in her free period trying to play it cool because right now her mind is getting crazy by just one look at the amazing bra or the thong. You literally set fuel to the fire. But again, you are gonna worry later, or you might enjoy restless Melissa Schemmenti…

The sound of soft Italian jazz music welcomed you when you arrived home. The memories of your last night with the fiery redhead in Italy came flooding back, but now you realize you have plenty of time to spend together. You smiled at the realization that she is yours and you are hers. Hearts tied together. While taking off your boots, you noticed the path made of red petals heading towards your bedroom. And it clicked, Mel was recreating your last night in Italy. The roses, the music. You decided not to waste more time, excited to see what your beautiful girlfriend prepared for you. When you went upstairs there was an envelope with text on it “Open Me”. You eagerly opened it, it had instructions for you. “Hello again my sweet mouse, read closely, take off your clothes, stay only in your new lingerie set, and head upstairs!”

You rushed out of your clothes, even the nickname “mouse” She definitely was recreating your night. You assumed she wanted to make things right this time? No more sadness, just pure bliss.

You opened the door to your bedroom and your mouth fell open at the view. The gorgeous redhead had a proud smirk on her lips. Evidently pleased with the reaction she got from you. You were too stunned to speak. The smoking hot Melissa Schemmenti had nothing but a pair of dark red lace thong without any bra just her exquisite breasts. Soft creamy skin was calling for you to kiss, caress, lick, touch it. When you looked more closely you noticed that her rosey nipples were covered with chocolate. On the bedside table were strawberries waiting for you to use them, fresh melted chocolate in a bowl was ready for use. You walked down to her as you were enchanted by her breasts.

“Come here little mouse, I might need your help.” she fake paunted. Her eyes were telling you the other story. They were glistering with lust.

While you were occupied by shamelessly staring at her breasts, she was taking in your form with the new lingerie that you bought for her. She was practically eating you up with her eyes as if you were her prey.

“I figured you might like this il mio dolce tesoro, do not contain your stares. I absolutely love when you look at or touch my amazing tits. I know you love them. It is still vivid in my memory how you were eyeing my girls in that hotel lobby. Absolutely shamelessly, you are such a naughty girl. But I love you for it. My naughty mouse”

You could not believe your luck. Mel prepared all this sweet yet spicy, to be honest overly spicy, and all of this just for you, just for your eyes to see, your tongue to taste, to devour.

“But we have some rules here, like last time. Rules for my favorite little mouse. First, you are going to address me only as ma`am, mistress, and mommy. Second, you are not allowed to take off my thong, this night is only about my tits and my titis only. Since you were brave enough to tease me during my work hours. You get a challenge if you can make me cum by just using your skilled tongue and hands on my breasts. Today you're gonna make me finish by just eating and admiring my breasts.”

She announced the rules. Her beautiful green olives are gone in a lustful gaze. You can see how her breathing is erratic. Her eyes are focused on you. Almost silently asking you to start.

“Yes, mistress” you breathed out. Your thighs are pressing together in need of any sort of friction.

You sat on her lap. Melissa could feel your ruined underwear on her thighs. While she was streaked with the new sensation of your clothed pussy on her warm inviting thigh. Oh, how you wanted to take a ride... But just one stern look from your beloved Italiano made you behave. You wanted to be her good girl. Melissa, unlike you, could not take the tension any longer she yanked a fistful of your hair. Passionately inviting you for a bruising kiss. You whimpered at the sensation. She was restless. Biting hard on your lip just to slide her dominant tongue into your warm mouth. This action made you unconsciously desperately grind onto her soft creamy thigh.

“Ah, ah little mouse is breaking the rules again” She stated with a sly smirk playing on her puffy lips.

Still having her hand in your hair she pulled you straight into her tits. You moaned at the action right between delicate skin. Melissa was completely drowning you in her exquisite breasts. You were totally blissed out, your face pressed between her tits. Giving up any sort of control, you give in to the desire to bite down soft flesh. Smoothing down with your warm gentle tongue. Melissa responded with a groan. Her olive skin was covered in shivers. Just from one action. It was no secret for both of you that her breasts were subject of admiration. She also loved them, loved the attention she got from you. Now it was a research question to see how sensitive her breasts are and how many minutes, or hours would it take for you to make her cum?

“Tesoro, do this again!” she groaned out.

You bit her again. Taking the heated bowl with the meted warm chocolate you covered your tits in the steaming liquid. You shivered at the warm tingly sensation. Making your rosey buds harden almost instantly. Mel licked her lips before launching her tender lips and sucking on your right nipple. You let out a cry at the delicious feeling. Of her lips on your nipple softly nibbling on the pointy flesh. Her other hand palmed your left tit. Using her nails to tease the nipple. The sensations were sending you into bliss. Her scent, her warm inviting skin, warmth radiating from her big breasts. You closed your eyes to focus more on the pleasure she was giving you.

“Agh, mommy, please, bite me again agh, rougher plaeaase” You screamed from the sensations. The pool in your underwear was no help. You became more needy with every passing second.

You practically glazed more chocolate on her inviting breasts. Slowly licking the tender olive skin. You started with the top, kitten licking right breast, gently sucking on the skin around her areola. You were teasing, changing speed between agonizingly slow to faster with your tongue drawing different patterns. One of them was the word “mine”. Caressing the other breast with your nails. Giving a firm quiz here and there. Melissa was getting overwhelmed with feelings. She was so sensitive, everywhere. Firstly her breasts were on fire, pleasantly carried away with your skillful tongue, you sweet words you were drawing with your tongue on her breasts. The warm hand that was palming her left breast was sending light pulsations straight to her pussy. She became so putty in your hands.

“Like that, good girl, you are doing so great, just suck nipples, they are aching for your experienced tongue” She cried out. Pressing your lips closer to her overstimulated nipples.

Her praise was making your pussy clench around nothing. You were so happy to please your mistress. So eager to make her cum. Like no other men on this planet will. The sweetness of chocolate was mixing up with the significant taste of your gorgeous girlfriend. Making you want to devour her without mercy. Her fragrance was interacting with a sweet scent of chocolate. Revealing new muscusy notes in the air. Her strawberry lip gloss was like a cherry on top of the sweetness. All your senses were blessed with her gorgeous presence.

Your velvety lips were gently sucking on her exuberant nipples. Redhead responded with a breathy moan. She harshly pressed you into her exquisite breast. Too lost in the moment to care. You started to bite down slowly on the puffy bud. Changing the frequency of suction and biting. Gazing your teeth over a chocolaty-covered nipple adds more dopamine to your system. The taste of skin with sweetness was an amazing combination for your taste buds. Switching to another nipple you bit harder, smoothing harsh sensation with a lapping of your tongue. Taking a break from her nipples made her a whining mess.

“Amore…” Melissa whined out, while squirming her hips.

“Please, do-dont stop” She complained.

You took more strawberries and chocolate. You covered her reddened buds with chocolate and squirted strawberries over her breasts. Not caring where it will lend. As if there is no tomorrow you began to follow down the drops of juice. Making patterns, softly nibbling, and harshly biting down the pinkish flash.

“Tesoro please, I am so, so closeeeee” she was a crying mass. The overstimulation made her brain get foggy. She became more whinny. Desperately trying to get her release.

You were practically sucking out her buds, areolas, using your tongue to tease, smooth, irritate, and get a reaction from a hot beast. Your delicate hands were palming her puffy tits. Your nails were gazing over and over over sensitive pointed rosy skin. One last suck of your tongue, one lust swirl of your hand on her nipple sends her over to the sweetest release she got from this type of stimulation. Her eyes got lost in the back of her head. Her hips are uncontrollably bucking against nothing. Her hands firmly tugging on your hair, pressing hard into her tits. Her thighs are moving intensively which makes your hips join her rhythm to saddle over her thigh. You were following her movements to make you reach your desired release together. You collapsed in bed. Heavy gasping for air.

“ Well, well you did pretty good for a little muse, il mio amore”

With these words, you shared a passionate, loving kiss. And that night you had the best sleep in each other's arms. Melissa finally felt content and loved. She did not regret her decision to start a resort romance. Now she has her girl. Sleeping right beside.

What a Valentines…

191 notes · View notes