#be distracted while driving or turn to addiction

[gibbearish]

i know it was a joke that is sort of understandable in context so im not gonna say anything on the post itself. but boy seeing someone say "i'm also down with murdering a few actors if it leads to better movies" REALLY rubs me the wrong way

#like the context was op said 'if the gore is cgi whats the point' and someone replied 'do you expect them to just maim the actors' #then 'ohh i forgot about practical effects' #and its like. i get the joke. i get how you got to that joke. i get you didnt mean anything by it. #but 'so what if actors die as long as the movie's good' isnt uh. exactly a hypothetical is it? #like. isnt workplafe safety for actors like a huge fucking issue #both with set stuff and just. How They Treat Their Workers #like. even on safe sets dont actors srill get worked to the bone to the point theyre way more likely to like. get deathly sick or #be distracted while driving or turn to addiction #or even more outright things like. i cant remember who it was but that girl who that one director Deeply traumatized over and over again #because he wanted her reaction to truly be real? #and thats not even touching the entire world of stunt doubles #like. the movie industry seeing actors as disposable fodder as long as the movie is good is. real life. #so even knowing they probably werent trying to make light of that because like. the wording of its the same but with theirs the context #does have a /slightly/ different meaning #where the punchline is saying 'nah lets actually do (wild thing)' because taking a misunderstanding seriously can be funny #but in this case (wild thing) is actually (extremely common and fucked up thing) so its just. really not good imo #idk it just made me really uncomfortable and i needed to get it out of my system

[crxss01]

— Finally

pairing ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ percy jackson x reader

summary ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ you and percy confess to each other after an argument while you both fought a monster.

warnings ✧˖ ° violence (they are fighting a monster), making out in the middle of a fight, curse words.

m. list, main m.list.

"you do know that this is all your fault, right?" percy yelled at you as you both fought the scythian dracanae side by side.

"my fault? what the fuck are you—" you looked at him in disbelief but then regretted doing so when the she-monster took the opportunity to take a swing at you with one of her serpent trunks.

percy deflected the attack that was made towards you, pushing you out of the way. "stay focus!" he yelled.

"i will when you stop blaming every misfortune on me!" you yelled and attacked the female reptile.

"sssssstop, your argument givessss me a headache!" the monster demanded.

"you can get headaches?" percy asked with a chuckled.

you couldn't deny that it sounded so goddamn attractive, and it made you more mad than you were already.

"shut up, percy." you told him. "stay focus, remember?"

"here you go again." he complained, now fighting the dracanae on his own as you were knocked off your feet. "you okay?"

"yes, i'm okay." you answered, just laying there for a second going over memories of decisions you had made and regretting them before standing back up and holding onto your sword tightly.

"good, because you keep getting distracted. stop that or you will get yourself killed."

this bitch.

you rolled your eyes but he was right, you needed to stay focus on the fight. you briefly wondered why it was taking so long since percy was an excellent fighter and he could've killed the dracanae in five minutes flat.

"why. haven't. you. kill. this. thing." you panted out, landing a blow after each word.

"i don't know, maybe i wanted to spend time with you." he said sarcastically or at least you thought it was.

"very funny." you said dryly, why did he have to play with you like that.

"is not a joke though." percy said, feeling a bust of courage.

your head snapped to him so fast that you thought you might have gotten whiplash. "what?"

"look, i know this isn't the most convenient moment to say this but i’m full of adrenaline so imma take the chance to tell you that i like you." percy sighed and stopped fighting.

the dracanae stood there staring at the scene of you two completely forgetting about her.

"unfortunately for you..." you made a face, just for the drama of it and watched percy's face slowly fall. "i like you too."

percy let out a dry chuckle, throwing his head back with another sigh then shaking his head. "i hate you so much..." he mumbled then walked to you.

he grabbed your face between his hands and attached his lips to yours. you dropped your sword, putting your arms around his neck and kissing him back with as much passion as he was. it was so addicting, the smell of sea salt and the taste of blueberries of his lips was driving you crazy from just a few seconds of kissing.

you two separated then leaned back in after taking a few deep breath's, this was exactly what you needed right now. you could kiss him all day and not get tired of it. his hands came down from your face to your neck, to your shoulder until they rested against your hips.

"how dare you two do thissssss infront of me!! thisss issss—" the dracanae got interrupted by the humidity coming off the ground and turning to water that engulfed around her, drowning her voice inside of it.

you unfortunately couldn't see that at the time because you were too busy kissing percy jackson, your boyfriend? maybe.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ reblogs are really appreciated!

#percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson #pjo hoo toa #pjo #percy jackson and the heroes of olympus #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson greek gods #percy pjo #pjo x reader #pjo fic #pjo headcanon #pjo fandom #perseus jackson #demigods #greek mythology #greek gods #percy jackson fluff #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson fandom #percy jackson fic

[forpiratereasons]

i found a genre of longform videos that is just 8-10 hours of someone driving around freeways during thunderstorms and i have a lot of thoughts about this but also: stede the driver who films long pov driving vids and extremely stressed ed who gets addicted to his channel

it's meditative, and it reminds ed of being in the car with his mum, driving across aotearoa. he feels like she's there with him sometimes. but the more he watches, the more he becomes aware of the driver--a sigh here, the shuffle of fabric in the seat there.

there's almost no information about him on his channel, the gentleman driver, not even a name or a pic, and ed becomes a little fixated on picking up details about him. doesn't happen often, but once or twice ed catches the driver humming a few beats before falling silent again, clearing a throat, sighing, clicking his throat like he's talking silently to himself.

once, on hour six of a ten hour vid, ed's rewarded by the view of an elegant hand reaching across the screen to grab something that must be on the dash in front of the camera. four seconds ed plays over and over.

"is there someone in the car with you while you drive?" ed asks in a comment. "or is it just you?"

the gentleman driver writes back, "just me and the open road!"

maybe it's the format that makes ed ask, the anonymity. maybe he's just half asleep. "don't you ever get lonely?"

it's days before the gentleman driver writes back again. "do you?"

ed's not got an answer for that. or, he does, but not one he's willing to face head on. he asks instead how the gentleman driver chooses his routes.

the driver doesn't get very many comments and definitely not very many questions, and soon they're having little conversations in the comments of every video. ed gets another glimpse of that elegant hand, with a big turquoise ring, freckled forearm; hears another few bars of 'here comes the sun' hummed.

then the driver does something new: he stops at a rest stop.

and he leaves the camera rolling.

ed watches in rapt fascination as the driver crosses the screen in front of the car, goes into the rest stop. blond hair, broad shoulders, floral shirt. he's actually wearing jeans for an eight hour drive which is insane, and ed gets a glimpse of his profile as he smiles. insane.

if the driver's ever stopped before, it's been very carefully edited out. maybe he forgot this one. maybe he wanted ed to see. that's delusional, ed thinks, but he still navigates to the driver's about page and pokes around until he finds an email address.

nice shirt, he sends.

oh god, the driver sends back, and the video disappears from his page half an hour later. i forgot the editing. i'm sorry if it was distracting.

no, i liked it, ed tells him. it was nice to see the man behind the steering wheel. and then, hesitating only a bit, he adds: i'm ed.

hello, the driver writes. i'm stede.

the emails go on, and on, and eventually they turn into texts too, and promises from stede to check in on his longer drives, to "call if you ever need someone to keep you awake."

"i'm supposed to be sending you to sleep," stede argues.

"i'll sleep better knowing that you're safe," ed writes back.

the next video stede posts, he lets the camera run all the way until he's pulled into a parking spot at a roadside motel just outside of denver. the camera runs one minute, then five, and any reasonable person would've turned it off by now, but ed waits until he hears, very quietly: "safe and sound, now. go to sleep. goodnight."

is it stupid, to think you can fall in love with someone after just one sentence? is it still stupid, if that one sentence repeats at the end of every new video?

then one night the phone rings. it's late, dark out, and ed knows stede was doing a drive that wouldn't have him at his next stop until nearly one in the morning. he picks up. "hello?"

"oh, ed," the voice says. "you've no idea how good you sound just now."

it's a voice he's only heard before in hums and whispers, but it doesn't matter. lots of things about love are stupid, ed decides. this isn't one of them.

stede's blown a tire. "i'm okay," he insists. "i was just hoping for some company while i wait for the tow."

"where are you?"

"middle of nowhere," stede says, but when he names the spot, it's only two hours out. ed can be there faster than a tow probably would, and there's a note of anxiety in stede's voice he doesn't much like.

he's got his shoes on and his keys in his hand before he can think twice.

stede hems and haws but in all his fussing he doesn't actually tell ed not to come, and he stays on the line while ed piles blankets in the car and as he gets behind the wheel and as he sets out on the freeway. he stays on the line and they talk until they're both creaky with exhaustion and dry air, and then they're quiet, just like in stede's videos, but together this time. then ed crests over a hill and there it is: a car pulled off to the side with its hazard lights blinking. reminds ed of a lighthouse. 'i'm here,' the lights say. 'i'm here.'

he pulls to a stop behind, starts his own hazards. the driver side door of the car opens, and then there's a leg, and a body, and there he is. stede. he's still got his phone pressed to his ear; ed can hear him breathing.

"i'm going to get out," ed says.

"okay," stede says.

it takes another long moment, watching stede stand there in the dark, waiting for him. stede, with his hair and his voice and his hands and the way the quiet in him already feels like home.

"i might kiss you," ed says.

he watches stede swallow, hard. eyes widen. "okay," he says.

ed reaches for the handle. pops the door open. puts one foot out on the pavement and looks up to meet stede's eyes as his cabin lights come on, as the car starts to ding its door-open warning.

"oh," stede says.

ed takes a step. they both still have their phones in their hands, their breathes in each other's ear. ed takes a step and takes a step until he can reach out to take stede's phone from him. press the call end button.

"hi," he says.

stede kisses him.

after that there are other, shyer hellos, and other, more awkward ones too. there are ten minutes to a 24-hour macdo drive-thru for coffee and another ten to a motel and a late night that becomes an early morning by way of conversation. there's laughter, and more kisses, and careful fingers learning the planes of each other's faces. in the morning there's breakfast and a tow truck and an invitation to a place just two hours away.

and there's a long break in updates to the gentleman driver's channel.

when he comes back, weeks later, his update schedule isn't quite as frequent, and his drives don't usually go as far. there's giggles sometimes, in the background, like there might be someone else in the car with him.

"do you miss it," ed asks. "driving the long drives?"

"no," stede says. "i found what i was looking for."

*

@ kninjaknitter also podficced this one!

#darcy writes pirates #long post #ofmd #gentlebeard #cross posted from twitter

[fxrmuladaydreams]

say you’re mine (sv5) (dr3)

pornstar!seb x pornstar/camgirl!reader , pornstar!daniel x pornstar/camgirl!reader

summary: with the decision between seb and danny looming over you, you try to distract yourself from your feelings, but something happens that makes your walls fall apart

warnings: !! CONTAINS SMUT, MINORS DNI !! fingering, protected p in v, panic attack, safeword use

notes: omg look! rose FINALLY posted a new pornstar chapter! only two left after this one

prev part next part

The last thing you wanted was for it to become weird between the three of you. Well, weirder than it already was. The awkward air still floated around you occasionally, but your heart still melted in your chest whenever you were with either man.

Sebastian kept to his word, making sure to keep things friendly, but occasionally becoming a little too comfortable around you. An arm would find its way over your shoulders or his head would duck down to your ear as he whispered something to you. His close proximity was addictive, and it made you wonder if he knew the effect he had on you when he gave you a wicked grin.

Yet that all washed away when you were with Daniel. Still playing the doting almost-boyfriend role, he managed to make you forget about the blonde haired German when you were with him. He was all sweet words and affectionate touches. You enjoyed your time with him in his home, bundled up in his clothes, wrapped in his arms.

As much as you wished you could stay like this forever, you knew it was wrong. Someone would end up hurt, heartbroken, all because you couldn’t make a decision between the two.

It all came crashing down soon enough. You had asked Daniel if he wanted to film something. After filming a video for you and nothing for him you figured it was only fair. He was quick to insist that you didn’t have to, that he was more than happy to just keep things the way they were, afraid that filming something would make things awkward between the two of you again, or worse, drive you back into Sebastian’s arms.

He wanted this to go well, to be as perfect as it could be. He opted to film it at his house, hoping it would make you more comfortable being somewhere you were familiar with. He spent the morning making sure everything looked good while he waited for you to come over. He cleaned up the spare room you’d be filming in, he made you some food to eat beforehand, and stocked up on snacks he’d noticed you enjoyed for once you had finished filming.

He felt his heart hammer in his chest when he opened the door for you. He let out a soft hello when you flashed him the smile he longed to be the recipient of, and led you inside.

You ate the meal he’d made you like every other meal you’ve shared together, with bright smiles, bumping shoulders, and a light banter back and forth between the both of you. You helped him clean up once you’d finished eating, then made your way up to the room to film.

“So, uh, I figured we could do this a little differently? I’d like to try to be… softer?”

His words hit you like a ton of bricks. You see Seb in your mind, telling you almost the exact same thing.

“I like the way you are.” You tell Daniel. You reach for his hand and hold it in yours. “You don’t have to be soft with me Danny.” You tell him.

He knows you’re right, he knows that you can handle him, but when you look up at him with wide eyes, your voice sounding soft as a mouse, he’s still hesitant.

“Are you sure?” He asks you.

You nod. “I’m sure.” Then you lean up to kiss him. You kiss him hoping it’ll block Sebastian from your mind, and possibly ease Daniel’s nerves.

He gives you an unconvincing smile, then turns away to finish setting up his camera. You take a seat on the soft plush bed. You let your eyes travel around the room. It must’ve been a guest room or something. The walls were pretty bare, save for a few paintings scattered around. The dresser had a candle on it, as well as a small succulent. The drawers you’re sure were empty.

You remember the conversation you had with Daniel the first time you were at his house. He so badly wanted to fill his home with life, to have people that he loved and cared for with him. That could be me. You think to yourself. You could easily see yourself staying here with Danny, sharing a life together, turning his home into a shared space for the two of you.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when Daniel turns back to you. He gently asks if you’re alright, the glazed look in your eyes worrying him.

“I’m fine.” You smile at him. “Come here.” You take his hand and softly pull him down so that he’s seated next to you. You cup his face and press your lips to his.

The kiss starts off soft and slow, Daniel clearly hesitant in his actions. You take his hands and guide them to your hips. He holds you, his grip becoming tighter when he feels your tongue slip into his mouth.

He’s surprised that you’re so eager to take control, but he doesn’t let you get too far before he gently pushes you down and slots himself between your legs.

Your dress ends up hiked up at your hips, both of you far too eager to pull away from each other to undress yourselves. His fingers tease you over your panties as his lips travel down your neck.

“Getting excited, are we?” You can feel him smirking against your skin as he presses against the growing wet spot on your panties.

“Please Danny.” You whine tilting your hips up.

“Alright. Since you asked so nicely sweetheart.” He pulls your underwear to the side, sliding two fingers in between your folds. “Making such a mess already?” He pulls his head away from your neck to look down at you.

You moan as he pushes his middle finger inside you, followed by his ring finger. He tries to hold his own moans in as he feels you clench around his fingers.

“Fuck, you’re so wet bunny.” He curls his fingers up, brushing against the little spongy spot in you.

You arch your back, and reach down to grab his wrist. “I need more Danny. I need you.” You whine.

He nods, pulling his fingers out of you and licking them clean. It’s indecent, the way he softly moans at your taste as his eyes flutter closed.

He’s pulled away from his you-induced trance when he feels you tugging at his jeans. He chuckles as he watched you struggle with the button and zipper, practically tearing them and his boxers off of him.

“Alright, alright, just lay back sweetheart.” He leans over to the edge of the bed and shuffles around in a drawer. He holds a condom in his hand when he’s kneeling back over you. You’re quick to grab it, tearing it open with your teeth and rolling it onto him.

“Fuck me.” He groans.

“I’m trying to.” You grin up at him.

He gives you a similar smile, then dives down to kiss you.

This is the Danny you want. The one who’s confident, who isn’t afraid to be a little silly sometimes, who has a heart bigger than anyone else you know.

The first push inside you sends you both reeling. You gasp at the stretch, while Daniel groans at how tight you feel around him. He slowly works his way inside you, getting deeper and deeper with every soft thrust. He stills when he’s fully sheathed in you, giving you a second to adjust.

“Are you okay sweetheart?” He asks, attempting to keep his hips still against yours.

You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I need words.”

“I’m good Danny. You can move.” You tell him.

He slowly inches his way out of you then pushes back in, creating a rhythm.

“Faster Danny! Please!” You moan out.

He nods, this time pulling his hips away then slamming them back against you.

The moan you let out is loud, so loud you thank god Daniel doesn’t have neighbors close by.

The room his filled with his grunts and your moans and whimpers. You feel your orgasm quickly approaching. Your hands tangle in Daniel’s hair as you pull him down to kiss you.

He’s panting when you pull away, a crease between his brows, as he fucks into you.

“Danny, I’m close.” You tell him.

“Say my name.” He grunts.

“What?” You ask, surprised by his request.

“Say my name, tell me who you belong to.” His eyes are shut, he’s solely focused on his thrusts into you, that he can’t see the discomfort that settles on your face.

Suddenly it all feels like too much. His thrusts are too hard, it feels like he’s pounding against your cervix.

Your head fills with thoughts of Sebastian. Of the nights you spent together, the meals you shared, the quiet moments in his arms. You can see him in your head almost kissing you again.

Then you see Daniel. You see the life you could have together. The happiness he brings you and the peace he’d give you. You see him in the swimming pool, laughing as he’s drenched from the water.

You can feel your chest becoming tighter, your breathing becoming almost difficult.

“Say you’re mine.” His words sound too much like a command.

“Red!” You practically shout, pushing against his chest.

It’s almost like a flick of a switch, just how quickly Daniel pulls away from you, a soft, worried look in his eyes.

You pull your dress back over your legs, heaving as you try to calm down.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” He reaches out.

You flinch away from his touch.

“I’m sorry, I just- I need to go.” You quickly get uo and rush out of the room.

Daniel follows you, tugging his boxers and jeans back up.

“Y/n, wait, please, we can talk about whatever happened-”

“I’m sorry Daniel. I just- I can’t be here right now, I have to go.” You tell him before you rush out his front door.

You practically run to your car, and speed off down the road. You must be breaking traffic laws, with just how fast you make it back to your home.

You finally take a deep breath once you’re parked. You turn the car off as a shudder runs through you. You lean down and rest your head against the steering wheel, letting out a sob you were surprised you were able to hold in for so long.

#sebastian vettel x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo smut #sv5 x reader #dr3 x reader #formula one x reader

[toruro]

— ✧ like crazy

it's gon' be a good night ... forever you and i (like crazy / jimin)

pairing: wen junhui x reader

description: you're at his mercy in the palm of his hand, but jun is just as wrapped around your little finger.

tags: smut (18+), soft dom! jun, choking, spit kink, finger sucking, jun calls u 'pretty' a lot, possibly the best smut i have written yet

w/c: 1.6k

a/n: i wrote this high and listening to like crazy on repeat. i apologize for the person i may have turned into.

"atta girl." cool fingers drift from your collar bone up your neck, tracing the curve of your jawline before tapping at your cheek. your lips part unconsciously, sucking in his digits as he presses the smooth pads of his fingers onto your tongue.

jun's cock is buried to the hilt inside your cunt, hips flush against yours as your legs cage him in. tears prick at the corners of your ryes, the feeling of both pain and pleasure blazing a fire across your skin. even after stretching you out with one, two, then three fingers, you're never quite prepared for the way he fills you up so nicely.

his fingers in your mouth are a kind distraction—a moment of peace before the storm you know is sure to come. two digits plunged into your mouth, swiveling in gently in and out, much like his cock would if he chose to stuff your lips with that instead. another time, jun thinks, groaning when you swipe your tongue over one of his fingers.

"easy," he hisses, slipping the filthy, slick fingers out of your puffy lips' hold. you look so pretty beneath him, hair dischelved, lips slightly agape, eyes glossy with lust clouded behind your tears—jun thanks his lucky fucking stars that he's the only one who'll ever get to see you like this. your soft pants draw him close, and he grows dizzy from the way your breaths are in sync with his—the intoxicating rhythm has his cock shifting inside of you when he moves to lace his dirtied hand with yours.

the little muffled noise you make when he drags achingly slow out of you has his length throbbing, and you swear you can feel every little curve and vein on the underside of his cock as they rub against you. "you're addicting," he moans when your fingers latch onto his, holding him so close he feels as if he's one with you. jun can't get enough of you, but with the way your pussy just sucks him in when he juts his hips forward is enough to tell him that you're equally as insatiable.

"jun," you gasp, using your free hand to hook your arm under one thigh and yank your leg up so he can angle himself further into you. "fuck—" the word comes out choked when his next thrust comes down on you brutally.

jun damn near winces when your walls clamp down on him, tight pussy hugging him so nicely—do you know how much you're driving him fucking crazy? "pretty mouth like that," he grunts as his hips toss out sharp thrusts that are increasing in force, but keeping their slow and steady pace, "shouldn't be saying such filthy words."

your hand under your leg grows trembles at his words, and you feel your body already starting to go limp. looking up at him with sparkly eyes that glint under the deep red lights that encase the room, soft apologies slip from your lips. "sorry, junnie," your voice is soft and your body seems to grow more and more pliant, skin pressing against his.

when he lets go of your hand and thrusts shallowly while adjusting his position above you, you're about to spew out desperate words of protest, but the words shrivel on your tongue when that same hand wraps around your throat. your eyes flicker up at him and suddenly the red light becomes even deeper, accentuating jun's features.

he looks so beautiful under the light, dark shadows hugging his jawline and chiseled cheekbones. the brightness of his blonde hair and pearly whites reflect under the warm glow, your heart racing with love and excitement. jun's grip on your neck is firm—it's possessive, it's demanding, it's hot.

you'll do anything for him, and he'll do anything for you.

with one thumb stroking your jaw, jun returns to deep thrusts, this new angle having his tip kiss your cervix. "this pussy made for me, huh?" he groans, glancing down at the wetness that runs all over his length, dripping between your folds and down his balls. the slick causes a filthy sound to bounce off the bedroom walls but hardly audible with the way you're both moaning, panting, heaving for breath.

and it's so addicting, the way your sweet scent is mingling with jun's husky aroma. there's a bit of sweat glistening on his forehead, but all it makes him do is make him look like he's sparkling. you open your mouth to try and say something—say anything—but his eyes are darkening above you and everything is overwhelming your senses.

"my pretty baby can't speak?" jun murmurs, looking down at you with an amused glint when he tightens his grip on your neck. you can still breathe, but the pressure has your eyes lolling back and head nodding dumbly with what comes out of his mouth next. "need something to keep that pretty mouth busy?"

you expect his fingers again, if you're being honest. maybe it's the lack of blood flow to your head, maybe it's the way his cock is hitting all the right spots inside of you, maybe it's how you feel like you're high on his scent alone—you aren't thinking straight.

so when you open your mouth and feel a warm glob of spit drop down from jun's lips land on your tongue, you're surprised you don't cum on the spot. writhing against his hold, you whine when you realize that he's got you trapped. you're trapped, caged in, secure in his hold, but the way he's looking down at you so adoringly reminds you that you wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

if there's a heaven, there isn't a doubt in your mind that it's here. here in this moment between you and jun, so close, so in love, so high on the feeling of being connected. time stops around you two when he brings up a finger to brush some stray spit and drool off your chin, your skin soft and supple under his touch. "god, i fucking love you."

his crushing hold on your throat is too much for you to formulate a response, but jun doesn't care. he doesn't need to hear your response because he knows what you have to say. he knows you love him, and he knows that it's either you together or nothing.

and fuck, you're so beautiful to him under the dim lighting, the curve of your tits bouncing up and down as his thrusts begin to become more sloppy, more erratic as the high you're both chasing edges closer and closer. your hands by your side grip tightly at the sheets and jun is reminded that he's still got your neck under him.

"hold both your legs up for me, pretty," he order, finally letting go of your neck. your vision goes black and white for a sparing moment, senses being knocked back into place before being plunged back into shambles when jun slams into you harder than ever before. the bed slams against the wall, mattress creaking when you quickly scramble to hold both of your legs back, knees pushing up achingly close to your chest.

"junnie—fuck!" you cry out, and the nickname you use has a growl rumbling deep in his throat as he pounds his cock right back into your sopping mess. his fat tip bullies that one sensitive, tender patch in your cunt and you can finally thrash your limbs around freely, yanking jun's face down to press your lips onto his.

you two kiss sloppily, teeth clashing, tongues slipping in and out of lips in a heated mess, wetness coating your chins and cheeks as his hair falls against the side of your face. the sensation is so light it sends shivers down your spine and your legs begin to shake.

"i love it," you moan against jun's warm lips, your head void of any thoughts that aren't him and his cock.

"love what?" jun punctuates the word with sharp snap that you're sure nearly splits you in two.

"you!" you wail, the feeling of it all crashing down on you. you orgasm has been bubbling up for a while now, but with the sheer force and love that jun is pounding into you, you can't take it any longer. "love you," your words come out broken and your eyes shut tight as you experience this moment in high definition, orgasm wracking through your body.

jun's soft whispers of, "cum f'me, pretty," as he hovers above your face drive you off the edge at such a speed that it has your vision blacking out, and then there's the familiar twitch of his cock inside of you and your fluttering pussy gapes around him as thick spurts of cum fill you to the hilt, the milky white liquid leaking out of your hole and adding to the dirty mess that pools over the sheets.

his head falls against your shoulder as you both heave for air, and jun can feel himself growing hard again when he glances down at way you've creamed his cock, his fingers digging into your hips as he slips his half-hard cock out of your drooling cunt. the tip brushes against your tender clit, and your body jerks at the contact, teeth biting down on your bottom lip to muffle the squeak that threatens to rip through.

pressing a soft kiss into your shoulder blade, he lifts his head to gaze down at you hazily. the room is dark, but you've since adjusted to the red, dim lights. he's gorgeous, you think, bringing up one hand to cradle the side of his face. he grins at the gesture, his heart swelling ten times its size in his chest.

"baby," jun whispers, voice low and hoarse. "you're going to drive me crazy."

#jun smut #junhui scenarios #jun x reader #junhui x reader #svt junhui #wen junhui #junhui smut #seventeen imagines #svt scenarios #svt smut #svt reactions #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #seventeen smut #📝 writing

[drunk-fantasies]

after-date

+18 content, minors dni

bf!Jay x fem!reader / car sex, handjob, oral (m. receiving - not really but okay) / mlist

explicit content under the cut!

jay’s intoxicating smell of perfume made you dizzy this whole evening. he definitely had a soft spot for you and spoiled you with gifts and dinners at fancy restaurants, but today he topped himself.

the first thing you saw once you walked into your shared bedroom was a beautiful but tight black dress with a pair of heels you’ve been telling him about. next to them was laying a little note saying that he’s taking you on a date and bought those as a suggestion for you to what to wear. trusting his taste and sense of your size, you tried it on, and unsurprisingly it fitted perfectly. It hugged your body like a dream, showing your frame.

the second thing was his pick of a restaurant. you’ve never been there before and only had heard about this place, not thinking he would take you there on a date. everything smelled and tasted so good, but he distracted you the whole night. he didn’t have to do anything in particular, yet all your attention was on his bright yes, black hair and that addictive smell.

“what are you thinking about, my dear?” he asked, taking a bite of his meal.

“we both know what I’m thinking about,” you said without breaking eye contact.

he smirked and continued cutting the last bite. Noticing you’re both done he paid and took your hand in his. “then let’s go, since you’re so impatient.”

he opened the door for you and held the frame of the car, in case you hit it with your head. you waited patiently for him, though the level of your tolerance for his puttering was almost gone. taking his seat behind the wheel he started the car but froze for a moment the moment he felt your hand near his crotch.

“baby, let me drive, okay?” he chuckled and took your hand in his to turn a gear.

he stopped at the red light and you took the opportunity to lean closer and whisper: “just let me make you feel good.” you tried your best to sound as seductive as you could, but to him, you didn’t even have to try to do so. feeling how his knees became weak and drove off to an empty parking lot.

you quickly unbuckled his belt and he helped you lower his pants. you took his cock out slowly, admiring every protruding vein and reddish tip. twisting your wrist you started jerking him off and he leaned his head on the headrest in pleasure. leaning closer to him you started sucking small kisses on his jaw, knowing well how it made him weak. feeling his hand wrapping around yours you let him guide your movement. he sped up and started basically fucking your hand, while you were busy kissing now his neck.

“let me cum in that pretty mouth of yours, hm?” he murmured and you obediently wrapped your lips around his tip, continuing to pump his dick. he shot his cum not long after and held your hair for you in a makeshift ponytail. you raised your head and pulled him into a heated kiss, letting him taste his own seeds.

“just wait till we get home, baby.”

#enhypen #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #enha hard hours #enha smut #enhypen jay smut #enhypen jay x reader #enhypen jay hard hours #jay enhypen #jay x reader #jongseong smut #jongseong hard hours #jongseong x reader #jongseong enhypen

[hotchscvm]

Stalker obsessed Spencer???? Pls

When he first sees you, tears are running down your cheeks, being comforted by JJ. He turns to ask Hotch who you are and he tells him you're the recent's victim's daughter.

He thinks you're absolutely beautiful when you cry.

He watches JJ leave you be, closing the door behind her. He pretends to be reading the file in front of him, watching the blonde past him before his gaze is back on you. He doesn't think, he walks into the room and sits in the chair JJ had pulled up next to you.

You glanced up at him with tear filled eyes and furrowed brows. He decides at that moment he has to have you.

Spencer introduces himself to you, rubbing your shoulder gently when your confusion decreases, sadness coming back to you full force. Too consumed in your grief, you hadn't noticed how he wiped away your tears or how he placed his tear-soaked finger on his tongue, tasting the salty liquid.

He offers to drive you home that night but when you tell him your boyfriend is picking you up, he can't help the pure jealousy and anger at the thought of a boyfriend. Yet, he watches as the man picks you up from the station and drives off.

When the unsub attacks and kidnaps your boyfriend, Spencer is more than happy to comfort you once again, smelling your hair as you sob in his arms. He's weirdly happy when he puts on his vest and gets in the car to save your boyfriend.

He gets to the unsub first, holding your boyfriend in front of him with a gun to his temple. Spencer doesn't hesitate to shoot the unsub, causing him to kill your boyfriend. As the bodies hit the ground, the rest of the team enters the room, but he's already thinking about how you'll feel in his arms for the third time.

He tells you the news and predictably, you break down, crying into his chest and he soothes you, his hands running through your hair to comfort you. It's too soon when you pull away—though it's been about an hour.

When the case is almost wrapped up, Spencer goes to your apartment and gives you his number, telling you to call him whenever. You nod and give him a hug, a hug which causes him to be the last one on the plane. He ignores JJ's wary look all the way back to Quantico.

The next few months for him is bliss. You call him an unhealthy amount and he always answers, no matter what time it is or the situation. He remembers letting an unsub go because he felt his phone buzzing from your call. When you asked if he was busy, he smiled and said no as he watched the unsub run away.

When you invited him to come visit, he booked a flight before you could even finish the sentence. When you insisted he stay in your apartment instead of a hotel, he was more than happy to comply.

He gives you a teddy bear during his visit and you smile happily at him. He knows you keep it in the middle of your bed because of the view he gets whenever you get ready for bed. It's how he knows you also sleep naked.

A few weeks after his visit, he gets a call from you, telling him about the guy you went on a date with. He froze, forgetting he was in JJ's office, too distracted to notice her dubious stare. He asks for his name and has Garcia track him down. She's confused, asking if there was a new case but Spencer doesn't answer.

He tracks the new guy down, visiting your city again but without your knowledge. Garcia had told him about his drug addiction a few years ago when he had been signed into a rehab. Spencer knew he liked to frequent a bar a couple of blocks from your apartment so when he lands, he stalks out the place, waiting for your date to show.

Spencer makes small talk with him, talking about the game as if he played football in his youth. It's convincing enough because your date believes everything he spews out. Spencer keeps buying him drinks while pretending to nurse his own, getting the man more and more drunk.

Like a good civilian, Spencer helps him out of the bar, placing him against the dark alley walls so the man could catch his breath. He's rethinking his decision when the man's phone lights up from a call. A call from you.

He pulls out the syringe that's been hiding in his inner coat pocket, filled with pure heroin. The man is incapable of fighting back as Spencer finds a vein and injects the drug into his system.

He's hugging you the next day after finding out your first date in months had overdosed.

Spencer tells you to move in with him, and you can't help but be skeptical of it. But he tells you he can protect you, he can take care of you, he can love you. He already does. He kisses you less than twelve hours after your date had mysteriously died.

Even as you move in, you're still unsure, not wanting to overcrowd his space or take advantage of his kindness. He has to hide his smile at that comment, assuring you that he wants you there.

When all your stuff has been moved into his apartment, he asks you on a date. He makes you forget about your previous date, buys you flowers, and takes you to an expensive restaurant and then to a taco cart after because the portions were so tiny. He makes you forget about your poor date, dotting on you and making you blush throughout the night.

It's not even a month in when he proposes. You're hesitant but say yes. He's absolutely thrilled.

When he's away on cases, his teddy bear keeps an eye on you.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #tw drugs #stalker!spencer #spencer reid fic #dark spencer reid

[lasperlasdelaconcha]

Curiosity [Spot/Reader]

tags: nsfw, stalking, masturbation (male), sub!spot, cliffhanger (sorry)

a/n: I saw that there was few posts about Spot from Spiderman: Across the Spider-Verse, so I decided to write a short thing on him. Let me know if you like it!

wc: 1247

Spot was just jumping through different verses, experimenting with his new abilities when he spotted you. 

Hiding behind a tree, he looked at you typing on your computer at the coffee shop while also sipping on coffee. 

He didn’t know why, but he just had to be with you. But he was too nervous to actually approach you. So he would follow you around and watch you in secret. 

It was easy. He was able to create vortexes and peek a head in, watching your every move. It was addicting and sweet at first, but poor, sweet Spot wanted more. 

While running away from Spiderman, one of his vortexes led him to your apartment. It was sudden and embarrassing how he had you in mind all of the time. Luckily, you weren’t home. 

He was going to leave, he swears, but the prospect of beginning extremely close to something that was yours while you weren’t around was more exciting. 

He began to search around your home. He looked through your kitchen to see what kind of foods you liked, but it was mostly empty. Ah, that’s why you weren’t here working. You went to the grocery store. 

He looked around your living room, touching your shelves and looking through all your books and little trinkets. It upset him a bit to see you had a Spiderman action figure on display.

He sulked a little, his mood dropping a bit as he made his way to your bathroom, looking and smelling your shampoos and lotions. That brightened his mood a bit, but he was still upset. 

What was so good about Spiderman anyways?

He slowly made his way towards your bedroom, the one place he desired to go from the beginning, but left it ‘til last. 

He looked around, going through the drawers of your dresser. He smiled as he looked at your clothes, remembering them all from his ‘watches’. Then he made it to the last drawer and blushed. It was full of your bras and panties and he closed it suddenly, completely flustered.

He admired you. He wasn’t a pervert!

He tried to distract himself as he looked through your other things. You had another bookshelf in your room and he saw more of the books that he would see you read in your free time. 

He then made his way towards your vanity and scanned it slightly, not really wanting to touch it because you were very specific on how you left you. If you didn’t notice his rummaging around your apartment, you would notice it here. 

He walked fast past your dresser, still remembering that drawer. 

There was only one spot left and that was your closet. He had seen it a few times before. It was mostly just hoodies and dresses, shoe boxes stacked on the shelf above. The closet was pretty empty since you moved your materials for work to the closet in the living room. He would have looked at it, but he just had seen it so much that he had the layout memorized. 

He hummed as he looked to the side inside your closet and blushed, shutting the closet door abruptly. He slowly opened it back up, his face burning as he looked at the laundry bin. 

Right at the top of the bin was a pair of black panties. It wasn’t hidden nor covered by other clothes. It looked like you just left it there for him. 

He shivered as he reached for it, his hands shaking slightly as he held it up to his face. He looked over it, turning and flipping it until he got to the part that made contact with your core. It was wet. 

He groaned, bringing up to his face and sniffing it. It was supposed to be impossible. He didn’t have a face and he didn’t have a nose, but he was still able to smell it. 

Your sweet scent. 

He groaned as his hips buckled, your aroma filling his senses. His legs began to tremble as he continued to smell it, the scent of your liquids driving him crazier.

He pulled the panties away from his face, his eyes dazed as he looked down. His cock was hard, a bulge present.

He slowly brought a hand down to his cock and his other hand brought your panties up, sniffing as he began to rub himself. A whimper left him at the stimulation. 

Without a care, he slowly made his way towards your bed, laying back on it as he pulled his cock out, pre-cum dribbling down the shaft as it hit his belly. 

He groaned, his hand beginning to stroke his member slowly as he shoved your panties into his face, never wanting to part with your scent. 

His cock began to ooze more with pre-cum, the wet noises of him jerking off filling the empty apartment. 

Whimpers began to leave him as his hand began to speed up, his legs beginning to shake as he began to shake his head side to side, the stimulation too much, but he couldn’t stop. 

Your scent was driving him crazy… He just had to taste it. He put your panties towards where his mouth should have been and licked the way he had grown to know. It wasn’t a normal way, but it worked and now he was able to taste you. 

He moaned as he tasted your panties, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he continued to touch himself, his back arching as he came. 

His cum spurted everywhere, covering his belly and your sheets. But he couldn’t stop.

You were flooding his senses, both in taste and smell. His whimpers became louder and his body trembled from the pain of overstimulation, but his hand never stopped, stroking up and down. 

Soon, his other senses were also flooding with you… His hearing, his vision… his senses of touch… 

He snapped out of his daze, his eyes going wide as he was staring at you, straddling him with a hand on top of his hand... the very one he was using to stroke himself. He stopped and you giggled. 

“Aw, you are so cute when you space out… It happens a lot more than you think, Spotty.” You giggled, removing his hand from his big fat cock. He whimpered because even though he was embarrassed that you found him like this, he was still hard. 

You then wrapped your hand around his cock, replacing his and you began to stroke him. “You don’t think I’m done with you, do you? No… You decided to break into my house and play with yourself while sniffing my panties like a dog. Did you like it? My scent?” You gushed, stroking him faster. 

He whimpered. His back arching as he began to push you away with his hands, not really using much strength. It was too much, you actually being here and watching. “S-Stop! Too… Too much! I’m-I’m going to cum… cum,” he whimpered, his head shaking as he "tried" his best to push you away. 

You frowned, swatting his hands away. “No! I am going to play with you. It’s what you get for playing with yourself without me…” You smiled, kissing his forehead as he moaned, his hands grasping the sheets tightly. “And you are going to take all of it. Okay?” 

He looked up, his eyes glossy as he nodded, a dumbstruck look on his face. “Okay… Use me like your toy! Please play with me!” He whimpered. 

#the spot x reader #johnathan ohnn #johathan ohnn x reader #across the spiderverse #spot x reader

[blindmagdalena]

Ok but Homie being obsessed with his girl taste and going down on her in every chance he gets

18+ cunnilingus, breeding kink, semi-public sex Whether it be walking into a bakery or catching a whiff of a barbeque down wind, there is something to be said for the specific kind of hunger one experiences when overwhelmed by the sudden smell of something delicious.

This is precisely the sort of hunger Homelander experiences every time he picks up your scent. His mouth waters, his jaw aches faintly. He's turning into an addict.

When you catch him staring down at your lap mid-conversation, seated at the Seven's conference table no less, with that familiar, far-away look of desire in his eyes, you give him a nudge with your elbow. "Have you heard a word that I've said?" You ask, amused. "You're ovulating," he replies, which tells you no, he didn't hear a single word. His lips are parted, quirked in a lopsided little smile. His eyes flicker up to meet yours.

"I hate that you know that before I do," you laugh, shaking your head. "Can we focus for a second, please?" "Nope." Homelander slides a hand up your thigh. "See, I'm just not gonna be able to focus on anything... Not with you smelling so fucking good," he tells you, his voice dropping low as he leans in close to your ear. He hears your heart jump. "John," you whisper, glancing over towards the enormous double doors. "The others could be here any minute." "Relaaaax, I'll hear them," he says slyly, catching the back of your neck to hold you steady while he kisses you. He fucking loves the way you squirm in his grip, putting a hand on his chest like you have a hope of dissuading him. He uses the distraction to slip a gloved hand up your skirt, swallowing the moan he surprises out of you when he rubs you through your panties.

"Wait, wait," you say, but it's too late. He's a shark, and your arousal is blood in the water. He moves his hand under your ass and hauls you up out of your chair with obscene ease, dropping you down on the edge of the V shaped table. Homelander wastes no time sliding in between your legs, smoothing his hands up your inner thighs, spreading them wide. He grins, licking his lips preemptively. Hooking your legs over his shoulders, he pulls you forward until his face is nestled nicely between your legs, buried under your skirt, leaving only your back resting on the table.

You cross your ankles behind his back, squirming, desperately pushing your skirt down over his head in an attempt to preserve some modesty. "Aren't there cameras in here?" You ask, biting your lip. "Sure are," Homelander answers wickedly. He's going to enjoy watching that security footage later. He follows up with a firm, slow drag of his tongue up the already-wet fabric of your panties, cutting off however you may have responded, reducing it to a sharp little gasp. Fuck, the smell of you drives him insane, but it's the taste that has him going truly feral. Moving a hand to your hip, Homelander holds you steady while he uses his other hand to pull your panties to the side. Immediately, he closes his mouth over your clit, sucking hungrily at you. He effortlessly holds you in place, keeping you from jerking away from him while he pushes his tongue into you, drinking you up like nectar. Homelander moans lewdly against you, dragging his tongue in deft figure eights before plunging it in deep, coaxing more and more from you, athirst with need. He encourages it with a light slap to your ass when your thighs clench and you start to grind against him. He presses in on your leg, a reminder that you can't break him, you can't suffocate him. You indulge him, squeezing tight on either side of his head, bouncing your hips with what little leverage you have. The sounds you make are music to his ears, muffled as they are by the press of your thighs. He meets each bounce of your hips, alternating between deep fucks of his tongue and swirls over your clit, sucking at it. He presses his tongue flat against the sensitive nub and that's when you really start to make noise. You cup the back of his head over the fabric of your skirt and hold him there, which feels to him like fucking heaven. His own cock throbbing, Homelander rocks his hips against thin air, grinding down in his seat, seeking pressure anywhere he can. He's consumed by the fantasy of fucking you with your taste fresh on his lips, pounding your soaked pussy and filling you with his come, putting a baby in your belly to make your tits fat and wet. He moans again, drooling a wet mess onto your panties, your skirt, lapping at you like he'll fucking die without it. You muffle your cry with your own hand, back arching fully, heels pressed into Homelander's back as you come hard, cunt convulsing wildly against his tongue. He doesn't miss a second of it, luxuriating in the way it changes you on a biological level, endorphins flooding your taste and smell. He drinks it like liquor, and feels just as intoxicated.

Homelander doesn't stop until you beg him to, pushing against his head, over-sensitized. He pulls away with an obscene, wet noise, licking his lips. He looks dazed when you see him, light sensitive and flushed, drunk on you. Your limbs feel like cooked noodles, useless to you. Homelander eases your legs down from his shoulders and maneuvers you into his lap, kissing the taste of you back into your mouth. Your panties are thoroughly drenched, clinging wetly to you. Homelander grinds up needily against you while you kiss, panting lightly through his nose. It isn't out of exertion, but sheer excitement.

"Let me fuck you," he murmurs fervently against your lips. He's already reaching between you to unclasp his belt. "What about the meeting?" You ask, cupping his face, not actually giving a shit about the meeting anymore. Not with him throbbing hot and hard between your legs. You grind down against him to hear the sweet way he keens. "They can fucking wait," he growls, reaching under the table to press a button that dings softly, flicking the green light above the door to red. Locked. "They can wait while I fuck you." Which is precisely how the other members of The Seven end up standing awkwardly outside the door of the conference room, exchanging looks, pretending they don't hear Homelander fucking you within an inch of your life on the other side of it.

#i started SEVEN fics while i was sick idk why i just have not been able to finish anything lmao anyways I FINISHED ONE #homelander x reader #homelander x you #darling anon #ask and you shall receive #smut #my writing #not proofread we die proud and lazy

[danikamariewrites]

could i request azriel x reader or lorcan x reader with reader being a vampire and needs to feed but he says to feed on him but she’s scared she’ll hurt him. She finally does and he feels euphoria and it leads to smut👀

Take My Blood and Make Me Yours (SMUT)

Azriel x vampire!reader

A/n: I got two requests that were similar to this so I thought I’d combine them since they were similar. I’m going off my very little knowledge of vampires from Buffy, Twilight, and Supernatural so I’m making up half this shit as I go along lol

Warnings: blood, smut, slight sub!Az

You had held out longer than you expected. But going four months without feeding on a person, human or Fae, was driving you crazy. You felt like you were dying. Animal blood and whatever Amren drunk wasn’t cutting it for you anymore.

You always felt guilty when you fed on a person. It was either turn them or kill them and you didn’t like killing people unlike other vampires.

In hopes that your ‘sickness’, as you called it, would become less extreme. You had avoided being around Azriel. His scent had been too overwhelming the last few days. The urge to drink from him making you itch. Since he was out of the house you felt free to walk around the house.

Although normal food didn’t do much for you, you were addicted to sweets. Chocolates, sour candies, literally anything you could get you hands on. The flavors helped distract you for a while, especially the sting from the sour candies.

Lost in your sweets stash you didn’t hear Azriel come in through the front door. He lovingly squeezed the back of your neck, “Hi love. How are you feeling?” You scramble up from the table backing away from Azriel. A wild look in your eyes telling him not to come near you.

You put your hand out making sure he stayed far away from you. “Az no!” You scream, “please. Please I don’t want to hurt you. I can’t…” your voice cracks as you plead with him.

Azriel hated seeing you like this. You were far too pale, deep bags under your eyes from months without sleep, and your hair looked lifeless. “Y/n, my love please. I need you to listen to me.” You backed farther away from him all the way against the wall of the kitchen.

He kept approaching. Once Azriel was within arms length he gently laced your fingers together. Tears sprung from your eyes as his scent consumed you. Cauldron he smelt divine. And he probably tasted even better. Your mouth started watering at the thought of his sweet Illyrian blood on your tongue. How sweet he would taste. How it would be if he turned and stayed with you forever, as if he weren’t already immortal.

But you had made a promise to yourself when you started seeing each other and again when the mating bond snapped. You would never taste him. You were afraid you’d turn him into something else he would resent or lose control and drain him. Leaving you broken without your mate.

You tilted your head back to avoid his gaze, your tears falling into your hair. “No Azriel. I can’t. I won’t use you.” Like the thoughtful and loving male he is, Azriel had offered himself to you so your suffering would end. You had refused him every time.

“Nothing is working for you. It’s been over a year since you fed from a person. Please let me help you.” You could tell he was in pain seeing you like. Azriel probably felt your pain down the bond and it mustn’t have been easy for him. “Y/n I trust you enough to let you feed from me. I know you could never hurt me.”

Your resolve was crumbling at his sweet words. “Please y/n. My heart breaks to see you like this. Please, just enough to sate the hunger and then you can stop.” You nodded your head whispering out a weak ‘ok’. You couldn’t believe you were breaking your promise. Gods, what was wrong with you.

Azriel was chest to chest with you. You collapsed in his arms letting out small sobs. Azriel kissed the side of your head, scooping you up in his strong arms. After letting out one final cry he asked, “Where would you be comfortable baby?” His question made you pause.

You were about to drink his blood and he was asking you where you’d be most comfortable? This just reminded you of how selfless Azriel is. You didn’t deserve this male. “Wherever you’re comfortable Az.” You mumble into his shoulder.

He started heading up the stairs toward your bedroom. While you were relieved your pain would be over soon, you were terrified you’d harm Azriel.

Before you knew it Azriel was sitting on the bed with you cradled to his chest. “We can take this at your pace.” You nod against his chest. Moments pass as you sit still. Taking a deep, nervous breath you lift your head to meet his sweet hazel eyes.

You cup his face and run your thumbs across his cheeks. “Thank you, my love. You have no idea…” he covers your hand with one of his large scarred one. “I’m doing what any good mate would. I love you.” You were at a loss for words as you teared up again. “I love you too.”

Leaning forward his scent overwhelms you. He’s night, rain, mist, and everything beautiful in the world to you. Part of you was excited to get a taste of him. All your worries left your mind as you pressed your nose into the side of his neck. His soft, supple neck.

You licked from his pulse point up to just under his earlobe. Straddling him, you move your mouth back down so you hovered just above his pulse point. You left a small peck on his warm skin. “If it gets too much or you think I’ve gone too far, do what you have to. Even if that means hurting me.” “I…ok.” You heard the hesitation in his voice.

You gave his neck one last kiss, letting your fangs slide out and scrape against his skin. Finally, you skin your teeth in, biting down on Azriel his blood starts to seep out and into your mouth. The second the thick red liquid hit your tongue an electric shock went through you. Azriel’s shadows were going haywire as they wrapped around you and their master.

He tasted even better than you imagined. Cauldron, he was the sweetest thing you had ever tasted. Having Azriel like this did things to you. The way he willingly gave himself to you and tasting the most delicious blood you’ve ever had, had you grinding down on Azriel.

Azriel moaned, gripping you tighter to him. You were surprised when you felt his hips buck up into you. “Fuck baby. Feels good.” Holy shit, Az was enjoying this as much as you.

You had your fill a few mouth fulls ago but you stayed sunken into his skin, lapping up a few drops. You felt heavenly. Like you were new again and finding out what blood tasted like for the first time.

Pulling your fangs from him Azriel whimpered. The sound went straight to your core making the slick in your panties more prominent. When you could finally focuses on your surroundings you could feel Azriel’s hard cock through his pants.

You sat up, stretching your arms, pushing your hair up and letting it fall seductively over your shoulders as you let out a seductive hum. You much better. Your skin returned to its normal shade. Your eyes vibrant and full of life. You gave Azriel a dark smile, his blood coated your lips teeth.

Azriel’s shadows relaxed, going back to their spot on his shoulders. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of you. Azriel grabbed you pulling you into a bruising kiss, licking at your sharp teeth. You moan into his mouth forcing your tongue into his, dominating him.

You took control from Azriel, ripping your nightgown off and clawing at his shirt with your sharp nails. He rips it off and you undo his pants. Sliding them down just enough to let his cock spring free.

You take him in your hand running your thumb around the head. Kissing up his jaw you stop at his ear nibbling at it. “I think you deserve a reward, don’t you? My brave boy.” He let out another whimper, loud and unashamed. “Yes, fuck please baby?”

You run a finger along the ridge of his wing up to the talon. Azriel tenses up under you, his cock twitching in your hand. Getting to the talon you slowly run your finger down the vein, onto the red and gold flecked membrane. Azriel moaned, gripping your ass hard enough to leave fingerprints. “Please y/n, I need you please, please, please.”

You let out a dark laugh. Sitting up you lay your hands on his chest forcing him back into the headboard. “Such a good boy saying please. You’ll get what you want baby.” Azriel let out a harsh breath at the new praise from you. “You like that?” You say in a tantalizing voice. “You like being my good boy?”

“Yes. So much.” You hum running your hands down his abs. “Good Azzy, good.” You peck his lips and line his cock up with your entrance, teasing him by spreading your slick around your folds. Finally you sink all the way down on him. You both let out moans of pleasure at the feeling of being connected.

You start rocking back and forth on him, your eyes fluttering. “Gonna help me ride you baby.” Azriel wordlessly bent his knees and brought his hands to your hips. You started bouncing on him. Azriel picked you up, slamming you back down faster and faster as he chased his high.

The room smelled of blood and sex. The sound of slapping skin echoing as praised Azriel. A few more thrusts and you were coming undone together.

Azriel’s head started to fall backward. You cupped the back of it before it could hit the headboard. His eyes screwed shut. You laid your forehead on his rapidly moving chest while you both caught your breath. “Fuck.” You panted. Azriel lazily snaked his arms around your waist. Slipping into a laying position with you still on his chest.

“Azzy we need to get cleaned up baby.” You squeezed his bicep signaling for him to get up. He shook his head against the pillow. “Can’t. Just need to lay here with you.” You weren’t going to argue with him. You were spent and ready to sleep for the first time in a while.

tags: @rigelus @nyotamalfoy @auggiesolovey @msiecrane @bubybubsters @baybay123455 @aroseinvelaris @twsssmlmaa

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel x you #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #azriel #azriel imagine #azriel smut

[mrskokushibo]

How they flirt - Headcanons:

Geto, Nanami, Sukuna, Gojo

Warnings: None. Slightly suggestive, but seriously..

Masterlist

Geto

You will most likely meet him at a party at your uni. You are there with your friends after your final exam sessions are done.

He has already spotted you across the room, just as you noticed his handsome presence. He will watch you, arms crossed and a faint little smile gracing his attractive face.

To gain his attention, you must be among the more eye-catching girls in the room, whether it is due to your looks, your outfit, or charisma, either way, this fella is picky. He has all reasons to be and I do not only mean his looks, charm, and intelligence. No, he has something else, hidden away from plain sight that gives him the natural confidence, these quiet types usually have. Do you all know what I mean by now? Heh? He knows that what he has to offer will make you an addict…

He is not shy, not the least. He enjoys the game, to drive you crazy with anticipation. He knows you are interested, he can see it in the way you constantly glance his way and get distracted from the conversation you are involved in.

He will start giving you bigger smiles and maybe send subtle signs with the way he moves his eyes.

He will drive you to the point that you will have no choice, but in sheer desperation wave him in with a subtle signal.

After that, things will move quickly. He is not the one to shy away from the action and you will probably end up at either one of your places taking things to the next step in a hurry…

Husband material?....Hmmm, not too sure, but you could try…

Nanami

No, he will not flirt with you. It is hard to determine whether he simply doesn’t care or doesn’t know how to.

The first time you meet him is at the local pub in the business district. He still goes there out of habit after work. He will be sitting alone, drinking an expensive single-malt whiskey.

You are there alone as well, having a drink after your stressful job. Since you ‘happen’ to sit yourself down next to the handsome blonde, you will be trying to get his attention.

When nothing works, you will go for the last resort: you strike up a conversation.

He will be polite, but short, only giving you concise and matter-of-fact replies. Until…

…You order your second drink and it so happens to be one of his absolute favourites.

Your good taste tickles his curiosity and the conversation suddenly starts to flow to the point that you both forget how much time you actually spent talking that night.

As you both are hungry by now, you will stick around and order a counter meal. After that, follows the classic exchange of phone numbers and you decide you will meet up for dinner.

It will take time to take things further as he wants to get to know you better before moving to the next phase. He is a little old-school and a tad on the shy side when it comes to women, but once you two click, then he is definitely husband material.

Sukuna

You meet at a nightclub, well: he finds you, to be precise.

Surprisingly, it is not your looks, but your charisma and the way you hold yourself that will attract this absolute hottie.

All of a sudden, you will feel a presence behind you and a deep, masculine, slightly raspy voice will say some very intriguing words into your ear.

When you turn around, you see him…Do I need to say more? Your reaction will definitely not just be limited to your mind, oh no…

He doesn’t dance, but he will hold you close and rock gently to the music while whispering lewd words into your ear.

By the end of the evening, you will find yourself in his hands (both literally and metaphorically)…

Not a husband material since you sense you are not his only one, but as far as fun goes?... Hell, yeah! Hail the king!

Gojo

You will meet him at a work party. Since you work in a large company, you have never met before.

He is the handsome, tall, blonde fella, wearing sunglasses indoors… Trying a little too hard to be cool.

You are attracted to his looks so you maneuver yourself closer and closer to where he stands, shooting him an occasional smile when he glances your way. He is busy attempting to entertain his companions, who do not seem overly, well, entertained.

Finally, when you are close enough, he will slide down his sunglasses and look at you with those sparkly blue eyes… At this stage, you are melting.

A silly grin away and you can’t help but laugh slightly and look at him directly. You see him apologise to his co-workers who seem quite relieved with his leave and walk toward you, most likely stumbling on something on the way.

He will begin your interaction with a lame joke and ask you how you are enjoying the party so far.

For the duration of the party, you will only have eyes for each other. He will probably spill a drink on himself or on you, trying to awkwardly wipe you dry, resulting in you both laughing like two idiots.

As flashy as his exterior seems to be, deep inside he is a serious guy looking for an equally serious girl. He has been burnt before and is cautious. As for taking things to the next level, well, depends on how drunk you both are. If that does happen, he will be equally parts embarrassed and boyishly happy, but one thing is for sure, if he trusts you, he will start over and do things properly. Husband material? I would say, yes. He would be great with kids too.

Tag 💞 : @fuckkyourlife @paintoreos @koyuki-the-flower @kokusfluffyhair I wish I dared to write something less...tame, but oh well... this has to do for now...

Banner by @cafekitsune

Artwork: JJK anime, Pinterest / artist unknown.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk geto #jjk gojo #jjk nanami #jjk sukuna #jujutsu kaisen geto #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #sukuna #nanami headcanons #gojo headcanons #geto headcanons #sukuna headcanons #geto x you #gojo x you #sukuna x reader #nanami x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu geto #jujutsu sukuna #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu nanami #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x y/n #gojo satoru #geto x y/n #geto suguru

[mili0nd0llarman]

LET THE LIGHT IN

90s!james x fem!reader

warnings: toxic relationship, angsty (?), smut, arguing, alcohol, unedited, idk what else

pick you up at home, quarter to three

ask you if you want somethin’ to eat

drive around, get drunk, do it over again

james is standing outside of your front door, anxiously awaiting you. he rocks back and forth on his boots, his hands shoved in the back pockets of his jeans.

you open the door, hinges creaking. the palm of your hand is rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. blinking sleepily, you look up and see james, wondering what he could be doing here at this time.

‘hey babe.’ james says, greeting you with a kiss.

you allow your eyes to flutter shut, embracing the rare moment of love you get from him. your arms dangle around his shoulders, lips audibly smacking against his when you pull apart.

his larges hands are on your hips, holding you there. he sways the both of you very gently back and forth.

‘was wondering if you’d wanna go for a ride and grab somethin’ to eat?’ the sentence passes through james lips in a soft murmur.

you softly nod your head in confirmation, allowing james to gently pull you to his car. you hop into the passengers seat and watch him start the car. the streets are quiet as you drive to a twenty-four hour diner.

james pulls into a parking spot and puts the car into park. you both climb out and walk to the diner entrance. james opens the door for you, waving his hand for you to go in.

the diner is warm, a soft fleetwood mac song playing on the speakers. it’s almost empty, only two other people and the waiter. once you two find a booth and settle down, you look at the menu to decide what to get.

you both ordered a burger with a side a fries with a coke and pepsi. once the waiter brought the food over to the table, you both dig in, silence surrounding you.

james slaps down a thirty onto the table and looks at you through his lashes. ‘wanna get outta here and do something more fun?’

‘sure why not.’ you respond getting up and walking out of the diner.

next door is a liquor store, james drags you into it, grabbing some of the first beers he sees. you think to yourself, is our relationship always going to be like this? keeping it hidden and doing some stupid shit?

james pays for the beer and takes you to the car, he cracks open a beer and holds it up to your lips but you press your lips together and shake your head. he shrugs and starts to chug it. the sight brings sadness to your whole being, seeing him addicted to the one thing you hate.

he drives around and keeps drinking, music turned up loud. you look at him, brows set and lips tight.

‘bring me home james.’ you demand, not feeling comfortable at all.

he drives to your street, you get out of the car and he looks at you. ‘same time tomorrow?’

you look at him with a blank space and just walk to your front door, a small tear slipping out of your eye.

wake you up at night, quarter to one

i can never stop, wanna have fun

don’t be actin’ like i’m the kinda girl who can sleep

you lay in your bed, staring up at the ceiling unable to fall asleep. your check the clock on your bedside table, 12:45 pm.

you groan, grabbing a pillow and covering your face with it. turning onto your side, you shut your eyes and tried to fall asleep. you can’t help but toss and turn. you need a distraction.

getting up, you pull a pair of pants on and grab your car keys. walking to your car, you hop in and start it, pulling away from the curb. you drive to james house, knowing that he’ll be awake.

you pull into his driveway and park the car, slamming the door shut. you walk up the front steps and knock on his door, patiently waiting for him to answer the door. james opens the door and sees you there.

‘couldn’t sleep.’ you murmur, pushing past him to walk into his house.

you stand there and watch james shut the front door, and lock it. once he turns around, you pounce on him, holding his face in between your hands while roughly kissing him. james moans in response and grips your hips, while walking the two of you to his living room.

the only thing that’ll get you to sleep right now is having sex with james, he knows how to fulfil your needs.

‘cause every time you say you’re gonna go

i just smile, ‘cause babe, i already know

you know i got nothing under this overcoat

it’s no surprise to the boys that there is something going on between james and you. they can see the tension between you two.

the group is in the recording studio, james invited you to let you see what goings on behind the scenes. the only thing you have one is a overcoat, underneath is a pair of lingerie and black kitten heels.

you’ve seen james give you looks from across the room, lust clear in his eyes. you feel a sense of pride seeing him shift around on the couch and trying to use his guitar to cover his growing bulge.

james clears his throat and gets up. ‘i gotta go.’

you look down and smile at your lap, already knowing the effect you have on him. a few minutes later you get up and leave the recording studio to find james.

ooh, let the light in

at your back door yelling ‘cause i wanna come in

ooh, turn your light on

look at us, you and i, back at it again

you sit on your couch, tears streaming down your face after finding james fucking yet another girl. james is at your back door yelling at you to let him in, saying sorry and how it was a mistake.

you know he won’t go away anytime soon, so you get up and unlock the back door, letting him enter.

‘baby, baby,’ james rushes out, holding your face. ‘i’m sorry, it won’t happen again. i promise.’

you look up at him, believing his lies, only wanting his supposed love that he has for you. ‘you promise?’

‘i promise, baby.’ james whispers, kissing your forehead.

the same cycle always repeats, no matter how many times he promises he will stop.

pick you up around quarter to two

usually we got nothin’ to do

screw it, maybe you should and record some other songs

it’s mid afternoon, james and you are just cruising around los angeles in his car, not knowing what to do.

‘you write any new songs?’ you softly ask, looking out the window.

james hums in response to your question, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

‘you should record them, i’m sure they’re good.’ you encourage, looking at him.

got my dress on tight ‘cause you know that i

look shinin’ in the light, there’s so much ridin’

on this life and how we write our love song

you and james are suppose to be going to a party, so you pull out the tightest dress you own. you walk out of your bathroom, waiting for james reaction. he looks up with wide eyes, lips parted in awe.

‘holy shit, baby,’ he says breathlessly. ‘you look fucking hot.’

you give a little twirl, before he pulls you into a heated kiss, he pushes you down onto the bed and gets on top, kissing you feverishly. you moan into his mouth, using your legs to roll you both over so you’re on top.

you slowly grind on james, letting little moans slip past your lips. you start to kiss his neck, sucking hickies. you urgently bring your hands down to his belt to open in.

you pull down his jeans and eventually his boxers. james hands pulls your dress up past your hips, and pulls the thong you have on to the side.

you slowly sink down onto his dick, letting out a long moan. james grunts beneath you, hands squeezing your hips. you slowly to start moving back and forth, before picking up the pace.

the sounds in the bedroom are dirty, skin against skin and the sounds of both your grunts and moans.

‘mmh, i’m so close!’ you moaned out, looking up at the ceiling with your eyes screwed shut.

‘shit baby, me too.’ james pants, thrusting his hips up into you.

your bring one of your hands down and use your fingers to circle you clit. you feel like you’re seeing stars with the pleasure you’re feeling.

you let out a loud moan as you finish and james grunts. you lay on james chest breathing heavily, calming down from your high.

ooh, let the light in

at your back door yelling ‘cause i wanna come in

ooh, turn your light on

look at us, you and i back at it again

you’re sick and tired of it, the same cycle over and over again. james begging for your forgiveness.

you don’t know if you can even forgive him this time, fucking a new girl basically every week. you hear him at your back door always begging for you to let him in.

you gave up this time, you go to your bedroom and shut your door, drowning out the sounds of james shouts.

you lay in your bed, a pillow covering your ears, slowly falling asleep.

‘cause i love, to love, to love, to love, to love you

i hate to hate, to hate, to hate, to hate you

put the beatles on, light the candles, go back to bed

‘oh my fucking god! you can be so fucking stupid sometimes.’ james shouts at you, pulling his hair. ‘you’re telling me you don’t see how guys look at you? mmh?’

you shake your head, laughing without humour. ‘are you fucking kidding me? you don’t get to turn this around. you’re the one fucking a new girl every week! i’m sick of it james, i have no idea what to do anymore. you’re never available, you keep our relationship hidden for no reason.’

james looks at you, chest heaving with anger, he sees the way your hurt and stops.

‘baby, baby, i’m sorry.’ he coos, walking towards you and pulling you into a hug. ‘i don’t mean too.’

you hug him back, burrowing your face into his chest. james rocks the both of you back and forth.

‘let’s forget about this, m’kay?’ james says, looking down at you. ‘let’s put a beatles record on and go back to sleep, baby.’

‘cause i want, i want, i want, i want you

i need, to need, to need to need you

put the tv on and the flowers in a vase, lie your head

you feel helpless, you should’ve seen all the red flags surrounding your relationship with james. the toxicity of it.

you can’t help but always forgive him because he seems so genuine with his promises, yet he breaks them days later.

you sit on your couch, watching tv. there’s a knock at your door. you get up and walk to the front door, opening it. it’s james. he standing there with a beautiful bouquet of flowers.

he hands them to you and you accept. you bring the flowers up to your nose, breathing in the scent.

you nod a james, a silent saying to allow him to come inside. you go to the kitchen and grabbed a vase. you fill it with water and put the flowers inside.

ooh, let the light in

at your back door yelling ‘cause i wanna come in

ooh, turn your light on

look at us, you and i back at it again

it’s the early hours of the morning, you’re looking up at your ceiling not able to sleep.

you look at the man beside you. james is on his side facing you, lips parted and eyes fluttering around beneath his lids.

you sigh and face the opposite way, you can’t believe you let him in again. allowing him to hurt you in the process.

it’s always going to be the same cycle repeated, over and over again.

#james hetfield #papa het #metallica #james hetfield x reader #angst

[prolix-yuy]

The Plan (and All its Iterations)

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader Editor "Murch"

Summary: Capturing the attention of infamous actor, drug addict, man slut, hot mess Dieter Bravo was not on your bingo card. But when he invites you to a house party you have to come to grips with the fact that he’s offering you much more than a few free drinks. 

Word Count: 12.2k (I KNOW it was meant to be a oneshot and it became a whole meal)

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, descriptions of male and female bodies, soft drug use (weed), implied hard drug use, alcohol, oral sex (f-receiving, implied m-receiving), fingering (f-receiving), rimming, safe PiV sec (don’t be a fool, wrap your tool), Bi Dieter, use of sex toys (pretty tame tbh), dirty talk like whoa, unexpected feelings, lil bit of angst.

Notes: This was meant to be a sloppy little Dieter smutfest and whoops, I spilled some feelings on it. But it’s mostly filth. Take this as all of the slutty Dieter I didn’t get to show in Below the Line, but desperately wanted to share. Not Bubble compliant but does anyone really care? Settle in for the show, my lovelies, Dieter does like to perform. 

Cross-posted on AO3

Best Laid Plans Masterlist

It doesn’t matter where you stand, sit, or turn at this party, you can feel Dieter watching you. You’d promised yourself you wouldn’t get conned into one of these, but he finally hit you where it hurt; your treacherous heart.

“C’mon Murch, just come for a little while. You know you’ll have fun. I’ve got all the best snacks, treats, a pool…” Dieter’s smile is just short of lecherous, hands splayed across your workstation as you click through another set of takes. You quirk a smile at his moniker for you - Walter Murch, king of editing, and the least attractive nickname you’ve ever received - and keep working. He’s distracting as always, but today it’s just that little bit more annoying.

“I’ve got a deadline, Di, leave me alone.”

The casual “acquaintanceship” you’d struck up with Dieter Bravo had started over a bagel. You’d snuck into craft services on your trip to pick up hard drives, and he’d caught you dipping a blueberry bagel into peanut butter. After being mortified that anyone, not to mention a leading actor, had caught you indulging in a snack between long stretches at your editing bay, he struck up some conversation. Mostly about how you always choose the take where he’s flaring his nostrils too much.

“That’s not me, I think it looks dumb. Elias thinks it makes you look wilder, more unhinged.” His charming laugh had been the precursor to all of your ensuing meetings.

Being around Dieter was surprisingly easy, falling into a rhythm quickly. Not that you see him often, just when you’re sent on set for pickups or drop offs. Low on the totem pole means doing the runner jobs and sifting through takes most nights. Mind-numbing work when the best years of your life are being chewed up by the Hollywood machine in favor of making enough money to afford your four-way split apartment.

But when you do see Dieter, he’s always polite, chatty if he’s not practicing for a scene. He asks you about your day, your weekend, if you listened to the new podcast he recommended. Sometimes he flirts, which you try not to take personally even if it makes you smile after he leaves. Among all of your scattered interactions, he always ends the conversation asking you the same thing.

“Want to come to my place after, Murch?” He follows it up with an excuse, a new one most times. He’s having all the production designers over to redecorate. He’s got an early release of the film where Jessica Biel bends over bare-assed. His dealer likes a pretty face. You’ve heard too many iterations to understand there’s more behind the request. Up until a week ago you’d refused, and for a man like Dieter Bravo a simple no actually was enough. He was respectful, never wheedled or whined, but you could see the glimmer of “next time” in his eyes before he hid them behind his sunglasses.

Today, however, you were at a new low when he asked you to come to his house party. Your ex-boyfriend, who followed you to LA just to break up with you when he discovered you were more like a seven in a city full of elevens, just proposed to his new girl. It's premature, a recipe for disaster, but it doesn’t ease the sting of seeing him on Instagram looking like it’s the happiest day of his life.

You should have blocked him months ago.

So now Dieter is hovering over you, large hands glinting with rings splayed over your work surface, notes crinkling softly beneath them. He’s pushed his sweater sleeves up his elbows, exposing thickly corded forearms with dark slashes of black. You didn’t even think he worked out, but the muscles rippling below the skin tell you a vainer story.

When you dare to look up at him, you know you’re a goner. He’s all fluff and seduction, hair an endearing curly mess and sunglasses slipping down his gorgeously prominent nose. He raises an eyebrow, sensing the change in your mood. He even backs off a fraction, letting you breathe instead of crowding. Popping out a hip and tilting his head at you, his anticipation wafts on the air like the tartness of a green apple. You sigh, reclining back in your office chair. Would it be so bad to let go for a night? Enjoy some free drinks and conversation and possibly a handsome eye turned your way? Dieter leans against the table edge.

“You look like you could use a break. Have looked like that for weeks. And I have it on good authority that your boss will be so hungover tomorrow that he’ll call out. Mostly because I’ll make sure of it.” He flashes a toothier grin, lopsided as hell. “C’mon, one party. If you hate it, I’ll never ask again. But I promise I’ll take care of you, Murch. You’ll have a good time.” You almost detect a promise in his voice but dash it away. Fingers digging into your temples, you blow out a particularly exhaustive breath, letting the tension crawling through your spine release.

“Fine, Di, one party. But I have work in the morning, Elias or no, so I can’t stay out forever,” you concede. Dieter is already six steps ahead of you, gathering up your purse and jacket and coming close to unplugging your machine. Thankfully he lets you save and shut down before he ushers you out the door.

“Murch, prepare to have your standards for parties set way too high.”

He’s kind of right. Dieter does throw an excellent party. The house he’s renting during the shoot is huge, a modern monstrosity you gawked at as your Uber dropped you off. Dieter offered to drive but you wanted to stop by your apartment and change. Wearing a flirtier top and a cute skirt that makes you feel like you can belong, you entered Dieter’s temporary home.

The party is in full swing when you arrive, and you can’t make a half turn without finding someone serving you something. Cocktail waitresses with hot and cold canapes, bartenders shaking drinks that must cost more than your fare here. There are various bowls of pills around, joints scattered on a glass table along with pre-cut lines of coke. The martini the bartender fixes you with forty-dollar olives is excellent, taking the edge off your day and giving you a distraction as you clock Dieter around the house.

He manages to be in every conversation yet none of them at the same time, always taking leave of one small cluster to move to another. You stumble upon your boss, who does indeed look several drinks further along than you do. When Dieter throws an arm around his shoulder, refilling Elias’ glass with straight whiskey, the look he shoots you is nothing short of an “I told you so.” Seems like you’ll have a quiet day tomorrow.

As the evening curls later, the outdoor pool lit up and the enormous glass patio doors ushering in the breeze, you start catching Dieter looking at you. Not the way he was earlier in the night, keeping an eye out as you passed from room to room. No, this is much heavier, a literal weight pressing between your shoulders, making you look to see where he is. You’re admiring a painting and he’s leaning against the kitchen counter, hips jutting out and arms folded as he pulls on the joint between his lips. Or sitting on one of the shockingly white couches, a blonde extra dripping in sequins trying to hold his attention but he’s got you in the corner of his eye.

You’re lost as to why.

Dieter is well known around Hollywood as being a bit of a playboy. You’d avoided most of the publicity around it, not wanting your mind to conjure up those tabloids when you had to look him in the eye. Or watch his face for hours in your darkened editing bay. It was unavoidable on a few occasions though.

The parties, including the one you’re currently at, are his most infamous. When the story broke about the blowjob contest he held, challenging every girl at the party to blow a guy better than he can, you almost choked on your coffee. The cover story was accompanied by a “before” photo of him looking up through his eyelashes at a chiseled torso with those sinfully thick fingers dug into the jean waistband. The more salacious photo, a mere Google search away, shows Dieter with the man’s cock down his throat, tongue peeking from behind his wet lips and a satisfied gleam in his eyes. You had to practice not bringing that image to mind several times, which became all the harder when you were picking the best take of him sucking strawberry juice off his fingers.

You refused to think of him when you masturbated later that night. That was a slippery parasocial slope to slide down.

Then there was the rumor that he could make a woman cum with his tongue better than with a vibrator. Though he was supposedly just as good at doing that too. No photos, but many corroborating accounts did add credulity. You’d snorted derisively; he might be a good lover, but no one’s that good. At least no one you’d had.

This is all to say that you are lost as to why Dieter seems to have his eye on you. You’d assumed he’d be a ghost, fucking his way through whatever he fancied and chasing it with whichever vice pleased him. But instead he’s manspreading on the couch, a redhead this time trying to palm his dick over his pajama pants as he sips on whiskey. Even then, with this girl licking his earlobe and straddling his thigh, his sharp gaze is locked on you.

Arousal clutches in your cunt, and you weakly bat it away. No way. Just fixating because you’d said no to him so many times. You’re nothing more than a conquest he’s gloating over.

Or a conquest in process.

You feel your mouth twist as your drink sours on your tongue. Why did you entertain that thought? Dieter can literally lift his hips and be fucking someone gorgeous instantly, yet you somehow believe he’s interested in you? Never mind that his jokes make you ugly laugh, or that he’s offered you rides and sandwiches and an ear to complain into. You catch him again in the corner of your eye, his sly look softening to something like concern.

You're reading too much into it. Putting your drink down a little harder than you mean, you start heading to the bathroom by the entrance. You don’t want to be here, to be reminded that you’re playing dress-up with people who would never learn your name. That you were not the standard of beauty that would catch someone’s eye in this room of supernaturally pretty people. Why did you let Dieter talk you into this? He was the only one watching you tonight.

From behind you, Dieter’s voice echoes through the house. “Pool’s open, bitches!” he shouts, and the mass movement outside and to the water eases your anxiety. At least no one will notice you leave.

The restroom by the entrance is locked, so you venture for another one up the stairs. After a moment of echoey wandering, the party noise now concentrated outside, you find another. It’s huge, larger than your bedroom and decked out with a double vanity, shower, enclosed toilet, and a freestanding tub underneath a window. It’s the bathroom of your dreams, so you’ll be sure to enjoy it while you can.

Washing your hands with the most pleasant-smelling soap you’ve used outside a hotel, you hear a knock at the door.

“One second,” you call, hand on the knob and ready to exit. You turn it, step forward, and are immediately ushered back by large hot hands and a heavy wet mouth close to your ear.

“Fuck, Murch, did you think you’d be able to sneak away that easily?” Dieter rasps in your ear, slamming the door behind him and locking it. One arm winds around your waist and guides you backwards until he’s pressing you up against the vanity.

“Dieter, what the fuck…” you try to protest, but he’s overwhelming your space. His breath, laced with whiskey and some fruity weed strain, warms the underside of your chin as he mouths at your neck, using his strong nose to tilt your head back. His hand is braced against your lower back, the other planted on the vanity top that’s cutting into the meat of your ass, and your heart is racing at this sudden onslaught.

“Don’t pretend you don’t want this,” he growls, the slick slide of his teeth now against your jugular. He soothes the cool press with a wide lap of his tongue, leaving your skin wet for his waiting lips. You try to come up with a retort, a reaction, anything, but his thigh pushes yours apart and presses against your core with a subtle grind. “Don’t pretend you came to this party and didn’t think you’d end up here. With me.”

“Di…” you try again, but his hands clasp the backs of your thighs as he sets you on the vanity. You’re barely perched there, pressed open by those same hot hands as his thumbs circle your most sensitive flesh. The roll of his shoulders is all you can see with his face still pressed into your throat, back bowed as he fists your skirt up around your waist. You did change, did put on something pretty that he could easily slip those thick fingers under. Did you subtly wish for this?

Speaking of, his thumb trails over your dampening underwear, tracing the outline of your folds over the thin fabric. A needy, keening noise slips through your lips, surprising you as much as Dieter.

“Fuck, Murch, keep making those noises and I’ll make you scream next,” he mumbles into the top of your breast, loose lips dragging against your skin as he pulls the neckline of your top down. That damn nickname gives you just enough clarity to retort.

“Holy shit, Di, you cannot call me that with your hand up my skirt,” you chuckle out breathlessly. Finally Dieter lifts his mouth from you, leaning back enough to take in the loopy smile on your face and letting his own breathy giggle join yours.

“Sorry, Murch, I’ll find a better one for you. Something about…” Dieter’s eyes trail down your body to where his hand is still stroking you with teasing lightness. “Sweetness. Honey. Sugar. Sweetheart.” He hums at the last one. “Yeah, I like that. Can I make you cum for me, sweetheart?” he practically purrs as he slides both hands up tease at the waistband of your panties. The spread of them on your feverish skin threatens to drive you back to the brink of sanity, but you have to answer him. Dieter always asks, will respect your wishes if you say no.

“Fuck, yes Di.”

The wicked grin that graces Dieter’s face is the moment of stillness before he begins frantically pawing at you again. He makes quick work of your skirt and underwear, urging you to lean back and lift your hips so he can slide them down your legs. His fingers catch deftly on your shoes and discard them as well. The marble under your ass, slightly warmed, makes a shiver of excitement skitter up to your hairline.

“Fuck,” Dieter sighs, staring at your spread sex with parted lips and a glisten of his tongue swiping out. He’s mesmerized for a moment, hands gripping the vanity top as he drinks you in long enough to make you squirm.

“Is everything…okay?” you ask, and the quiet question sounds so weak coming from your tight throat. It brings Dieter back to himself, his eyes snapping up to your concerned ones. The daze is replaced with hunger, and he fists your top in his hands.

“Of fucking course it is,” Dieter snaps out, tugging fabric over your head and deftly unclasping your bra with one hand. In seconds you’re bare before him, perched on the edge of his vanity while his eyes smolder into you. “If anyone’s ever told you your pussy was anything less than perfect, I’ll blacklist him for as long as I have any clout.” The threat rips a nervous giggle from your throat and a shake from your head, but Dieter plants both hands on the counter and comes nose to nose with you. The sudden closeness has you licking your lips, half holding your breath.

“You are the most beautiful person in this whole damn house, present company included,” Dieter teases, a little smile at the edge of his lips but sincerity laced throughout. “And the fact that you’re letting a fuckup like me touch you tells me you don’t believe it. But it’s true, and I’m going to prove it to you about…three to four times, as long as my jaw holds out.” Your brow furrows at the cryptic end to his sentence until Dieter reaches under the vanity and pulls out a stool. Settling it between your open legs, he flops down and absentmindedly pulls his worn t-shirt over his head. When his eyes flick up to you from their vantage point level with your cunt, he gives a little shrug.

“I like feeling your bare legs on my back as I eat you out,” he states, and you’re stunned just long enough for him to scoot close to the vanity and press his face to the soft skin of your inner thigh.

“Oh fuck,” you squeak, making Dieter’s smile stretch his lips against your skin.

“Sweetheart, I’ve barely gotten started and you’re already this keyed up? Sure you didn’t take anything?” His smirk travels up to mischievous eyes as he locks them with yours, darting from your parted lips to your trembling hands holding you up. “Don’t worry, I’ve had enough for the both of us, and you’re getting the benefit of all of it.” He turns his head to blow a light breath of air against your folds, the wetness of your arousal causing your back to arch at the sensation.

“Do you want to cum in my mouth, sweetheart?” he asks innocently, shifting one leg to drape over his smooth shoulder and pressing your other knee open. Your words catch in your throat for a moment before nodding vigorously.

“I haven’t gotten by in Hollywood this long on implied consent,” he tuts, finally urging a “yes,” from your parched lips. He grins salaciously before opening his jaw wide and feasting on your waiting cunt.

“Fuck!” you grit out as Dieter’s hot mouth engulfs you, tongue sliding messily through your folds as he hums in contentment. He sucks at your intimate flesh, lips popping off obscenely as he fills his mouth with your arousal.

“God, sweetheart, you taste fucking amazing. Like honey-dipped mango,” he groans, dragging his tongue down, down, down to tease at your entrance. Dieter always got mouthier, more poetic when he smoked, and if that little aside was anything to go by he was only going to get louder with time. Compared to…pretty much any other man who’d ever pleasured you, it was pure erotica dripping from his lips.

“So fucking wet and delicious, been hiding this from me for too long. I could eat this pussy for every meal and ask for seconds, God yes,” Dieter moans between slick dips and thrusts into your quivering cunt. The hand wrapped around your thigh slides closer as Dieter lifts his head just long enough to suck two fingers into his mouth, wetting them liberally before circling your clit.

“Oh my God, Di, that’s…shit, that’s gonna make me cum,” you gasp out, and his chuckle as he drives his long talented tongue inside you only spurs you on. His jaw works as he thrusts deeper and deeper, curling it sinfully to brush against that earth-shattering soft spot inside. Your eyes roll back into your head - if he gives you a g-spot orgasm with only his tongue, all the rumors might be true - just in time for your arms to give out, making you slip backward on the vanity. The back of your head thumps against the mirror, making Dieter look up with concern.

“Sorry, m’okay, just…hah, just got a little weak in the…arms,” you finished lamely, but the scrunched up smile and snort you get from Dieter is well worth it.

“Glad to know I’m affecting you as much as you’re affecting me,” he rasps, licking softly at the crease of your knee as you feel him shift and rock under you. His cock must be aching something fierce. When is he going to fuck you?

“I’ve got my fill of teasing your pussy, now let’s get your cum down my throat,” he says, and yet again that filthy mouth of his goes back to work on your throbbing cunt. He drags his tongue over your clit again and again, fast hard strokes with a swirl that make your thighs shake around his shoulders. Your heavy breathing has devolved into throaty whines that make Dieter moan into your cunt just as loudly.

“Sweetheart, you want something to cum around? Want my fingers in this tight pussy?” he asks.

“Yes, fuck Di, I’m so close, give them to me,” you beg, and the dark growl you hear from between your legs is the precursor to two thick fingers pressing into your slick cunt. He’s achingly slow but steady, pulling the most wretched moan from deep in your chest as he seats himself inside you.

“Yes, you gorgeous thing, look at how good you look all stretched out on my fingers. Cum for me, sweetheart, I gave you my fingers, now give me your cum. Now.” With that rumbled order Dieter closes his mouth around your clit and works his tongue over it fast and fluttering, pressing deep inside you to curl against your g-spot as you crest into bombastic pleasure.

Your orgasm rocks your hips against Dieter, and he presses one thick tattooed forearm against your stomach to keep his mouth plastered against you. Chest heaving, tears beading in the corners of your eyes, you moan raggedly as waves of ecstasy drench your mind. He stays with you through it all, lifting his mouth from your sensitive clit when you start to whine.

“Such a good one right there, so perfect for me. Gonna lick everything up once you’re done, sweetheart, then make you a mess all over again.” His dark murmurings barely register as the white noise recedes and you sit up weakly.

Dieter’s mouth is slick with you, hair sticking up in all directions as he stares at his fingers with rapt attention, engulfed by your cunt. The cool press of his pinky ring against your inner thigh soothes your overheated skin. When he realizes you’re watching him, he turns his gaze back up to you.

“What happens if I want to make you cum again?” There’s no tease this time, only something like the first taste of addiction licking across his features. You huff out a breath, pushing yourself back up on your hands.

“I’d say that would be a lot of effort, but thanks for the offer,” you smirk, but Dieter is still buried knuckle-deep in you. He quirks an eyebrow, then still holding your gaze he curls his fingers deeper inside you, pulling out a choked gasp.

“Doesn’t sound like it. Sounds like you want to cum on my fingers again, sweetheart.” Dieter stands to tower over you, the wide span of his chest level with your dropped jaw. He uses his other hand to tilt your chin up to regard his smug smile.

“Have you ever had someone make you cum twice?” he asks, the cockiness and surety behind his voice making your heart thrum. You’d barely cum once with other men, half the time needing to do it for yourself. A tiny shake of your head makes that salacious smile crawl across Dieter’s lips.

“Aren’t you the most delicious little thing? I get to pop a cherry of yours, and I fucking love cherries,” he purrs down at you. You tilt your head back and toss him your own challenging smile, trying to regain some of the upper hand in this exchange but your breath is shallow and his thumb ghosting over your clit is making your words fuzzy around the edges.

“Might not be that easy,” you try to retort, but as you speak Dieter leans back and lets a string of spit drip onto your clit, lubricating his thumb’s new path. “Fuck,” is all you can say as he licks his lips and winks at you.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t hear that over how wet your pussy sounds.” God, you could hate him in this moment for being so cocky but he’s slowly pumping his fingers in you and teasing your clit with perfect pressure. Instead you push yourself up to press your face against his chest, the heat and light sheen of sweat sticking you together. He’s soft-skinned and smells like sunscreen and some expensive cologne that’s barely clinging to him.

“Oh, is pretty girl getting a little overwhelmed with all this attention?” Dieter coos, curling his fingers around the back of your head. You retaliate with a nip to his nipple, making him gasp and tighten his fingers in your hair. “Fuck, sweetheart, I love a girl who bites.” The rush of arousal to your core makes his fingers even slicker sliding in and out of you. You wrap your arms around Dieter’s soft waist, and his fingers slow as he buries his nose against the crown of your head. It’s surprisingly sweet, even though he’s still trying to pull another orgasm out of you.

“Like feeling you against my skin, gorgeous. So soft and sweet,” he murmurs in your hair. Your orgasm is ebbing gently, arousal still simmering in the cradle of your hips but you don’t think you’ll be able to cum again. You blow out a puff of air against Dieter’s chest and lean back, letting your fingers dance on the smooth freckled expanse of his back.

“I think that’s all I got in me for tonight. Not for lack of trying,” you laugh, hand coming down to gently circle Dieter’s wrist. He hums, tilting his head up and squinting like he’s thinking hard, then captures your gaze again.

“A woman knows her own body, but may I offer an alternative?” he says, slipping his fingers out of your cunt and straight into the warmth of his mouth. He sucks indulgently, the pink slip of his tongue darting out from his lips as he licks his palm too. It sparks more arousal in your belly but you try to push it down now that he’s parted from you. With his other hand outstretched he helps you off the vanity and back to your feet. Bare before him, his messily patterned pajama pants barely hiding a strained erection, you wonder how the hell you got here.

Oh, right. You said yes.

“What if…” Dieter starts, letting his hands drop to your waist. The press of his fingers makes you turn to face the mirror, and your disheveled state is a shock to your system. So is Dieter, now standing behind you, looking at you just as hungrily as when he first barged in. You wait with barely concealed excitement for him to take the pleasure he wants, strip off his pants and seek out the clutch of your cunt. Instead he splays a hand over your stomach, another coming up to cup your chin as your eyes meet in the mirror.

“What if I bent you over this vanity so you could watch me eat you ass and finger fuck you to a second orgasm?” he whispers in your ear, and yeah, that wakes your cunt right back up. It’s almost painful how quickly your arousal mounts, heat spreading over your skin as Dieter chuckles at your open mouth and surprised eyes. “What, never had a man do that either?” Your silence widens his smile. “Two cherries then. My favorite.”

“You don’t…” you begin to say, but you have no idea what the other half of that sentence was supposed to be. Whatever it was, it was conjured up to be interrupted by Dieter’s bared teeth and heavy push against the cool marble, pressing you down until you’re on your elbows and bent under him. He continues to hold your gaze as his fingers interlace with yours, pressing his heavy erection into your ass as he grazes his teeth against your jaw.

“I fucking do, sweetheart. I want it, I fucking need it,” he growls dropping his mouth to litter little bites across the back of your shoulder. The sting of his teeth, quick and intoxicating, makes your hips push back against him. He groans in response.

“You can do whatever you want to me after I have my way with you, sweetheart. Spank me, strap me, edge me, I’ll take everything you give me if you let me taste all of you.” The shudder that wrecks your body precedes the verbal “yes”.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he breathes into your skin before lifting off you, heat now absent from your back. You almost ask for him to stay, but he’s back to sitting behind you and all you can do is gasp as his large hands grip your ass cheeks and spread them to his gaze.

“Fuck, how are you so fucking pretty everywhere?” he asks, a tender fingertip smoothing over the tight ring of muscle he’s ogling. You jump, the sensation foreign, but he hushes you with soft strokes over your ass and down your thighs.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’m gonna make you feel so good,” he croons, and the familiar stroke of his fingers finding your clit again is paired with the unfamiliar swirl of a tongue against your back entrance. The choked noise you let out is undignified and louder than you intend, but so warranted as Dieter begins laving soft strokes while rolling your clit between his fingers.

You try to settle into the sensations but can’t get out of your own head. Not when Dieter’s whole face is pressed into you, hot puffs of air fanning across your lower back as he prods and slurps and mumbles into your ass. Hazarding a look into the mirror you catch his halo of messy curls falling across his closed eyes, his curved nose pressed hard against your flesh. One massive hand is grasping at your cheek, kneading his thumb into the pillowy curve, as the other keeps sliding through your drenched sex, dragging languid strokes over your clit.

As if he knows you’re looking (or is hoping for it), he opens his eyes and catches yours in the mirror. The blissed-out gaze is replaced by a smug smile as he lifts up enough for you to watch the tip of his tongue slide up your cleft and disappear back into his mouth. You empty out a sigh when his mouth leaves you, anxiety finally reducing to a simmer.

“Relax, sweetheart, you’re so tense,” he coos, dropping open-mouthed kisses across your lower back and stroking up your thighs. “Self-conscious?” he asks, oscillating between teasing and gentle reassurance.

“Yeah,” you admit with a breathy laugh, burying your face in your arms.

“That’s okay,” he reassures you, standing again. He urges you to lift up and press back against him, his roaming hands searing paths across your stomach, over your breasts, circling your neck. “I just want you to feel good, sweetheart. Let me make you feel good.” You lock eyes with him in the mirror, which makes him smile slow and sweet. He looks more like a boy with a crush than a man with your arousal on his lips.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” he murmurs into your jaw, pressing a line of kisses along it. You open your mouth but the words don’t come out. Embarrassment sticks them behind your tongue.

I want you to kiss me.

Dieter hums right next to your ear, the vibration pebbling your skin.

“It’s okay, you can ask for anything. I’ll give it to you. Won’t even tease you about it.” His hands are tracing hypnotic paths, his words making you clench around nothing. He notices.

“Ohhhhh I see what we have here. You like it when I talk to you like this?” he gravels against you, two fingers lewdly darting to your cunt to slide across your clit. “I can do that, sweetheart. My biggest asset is my mouth, after all. Wouldn’t you agree?” You nod and bite back a whimper as he palms one breast in his hand, holding you against him. The other expertly ramps up your arousal, his eyes in t e mirror burning into yours as he ladles filth into your ear.

“Do you know how fucking hot you look all draped over me like this? I’d wear you like this to the Met Gala, show everyone how lucky I am to have your scent on me. And this pussy is made for my fingers. Look at how wet you’re getting for them. I’m gonna have to lick you clean again, can’t let any of that go to waste. Fuck, sweetheart, give me one more, please. It’ll feel so good to cum again, you know it. I know it. And the second one is always better. I want to hear you say my name when you cum. I want the honor of being the first one to make you do it. Tell me what will make you cum, beautiful. Is this enough? What do you need? I’ll do anything, I’ve got toys, I’ve got porn, I’ve got all the time in the world. Let me make you see stars, sweetheart. Let me feel you clench around me again.”

It’s working, you’re ascending and shaking and Dieter’s smile is widening as he works you faster, gently bending you at the waist until your hands rest on the vanity.

“I’m here with you, relax sweetheart, you’re so close,” he purrs, sliding down to kneel behind you again, leaving a searing trail of kisses down your spine. He has your orgasm between his fingers, and waits just long enough to press his tongue hard against your fluttering ring of muscle before he pushes you over the edge.

The pressure on your clit, the insistent press of his tongue in your ass, the hot brand of his hand gripping the back of your thigh plummets you into a wracking orgasm, harder and longer than your first. Your arms shake, Dieter’s hands coming up to steady your hips as you lose your balance. He holds you firm, heavy pants skating up your back as he rides out your aftershocks in the cleft of your ass. Once your breathing levels out, coming down to your elbows and dropping your head between your shoulders, he lifts his mouth from you. Leaving a chaste kiss on one ass cheek he sits back on the stool, stroking his hands along the outside of your thighs.

“Hey, c’mere,” he urges, pulling you backwards to flop down on his lap, wrapping his arms around your middle. You rest your hands over his, sliding your fingertips through the dips of his knuckles and tracing the length of his fingers. Pressing his mouth on the back of your shoulder, he drags his nose against you slowly. The scene in the mirror is softer than you expected; Dieter’s brow is smooth, slight crinkles at the corners of his eyes that betray a hidden smile. The fluff of his hair tickles your cheek, your fingers catching on his rings or tracing his bracelets. He takes in a deep breath behind you, his chest arching your back, before letting it free.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetheart,” he says, tapping your thigh to get you to stand. Your expression falters for a moment. Not that you want to argue with him about giving you two fantastic orgasms, but he’s still in those pajama bottoms with a rock hard cock against your ass. You stand, eyes flitting over him but trying to keep the dreamy smile on your face. He gives your ass a light little slap with a lopsided smile before moving to the shower and turning it on. One hand under the stream to temp it, he motions you over.

“I’ll be back in a few, take as long as you want,” he says, and you nod and smile. He’s got an equally fond one on, thumbing your chin before shutting the glass door behind you.

Steam fogs up the shower surround as you step under the spray, glorious heat and pressure soothing any aches out of your bones. You watch Dieter scurry around the bathroom, picking up clothing and replacing the vanity stool. He leaves, shutting the door behind him, and giving you plenty of time with your thoughts.

You don’t know what to do now. As much fun as you’d had with Dieter’s devotions, you assumed he’d want some reciprocation. You’d have happily taken him into your mouth, your cunt, your hand even, but all he did was grind his thick length against you a few times. Did he not find you attractive enough to fuck? Or maybe he was waiting for something from you, something you hadn’t given him. What had you done to make him think you didn’t want him now? Your rushing mind began tainting the pleasurable evening, making you scrutinize for mistakes you’d made, or missteps you’d taken. Maybe you just weren’t up to par with what he wanted. Maybe you were too cold, too boring, too little too late to keep his attention.

The smallest, ugliest voice inside your head whispered that he didn’t even kiss you. That revelation hurt the most, made you stop sudsing your skin and breathe through the gut-wrench. He’d put his mouth on most of your body except against your lips. If he didn’t even want to kiss you, of course he didn’t want to fuck you. You don’t know what he gets out of rocking your world - maybe just an ego boost, debauching the girl he could never convince to come out - but it’s making you tight-chested and warbly as you spiral.

You shut off the shower and reach for the plushest towel you’ve ever felt, drying yourself off quickly. You’ll get dressed and slip out while Dieter rejoins the party. Don’t think about him bragging to the other socialites and Hollywood elites about what he was just doing. Be faceless and invisible and get out. You steel yourself to this choice before realizing that your clothing is nowhere to be found.

Fuck.

Just then Dieter creaks the door open a crack, sliding in when he sees you wrapped in a towel. He’s got a handful of fabric in his hands, a cocky smile on his face as he looks you up and down. It reminds you of that hungry look he had when he first burst in, before the sourness of your inner monologue turned your stomach.

“Sorry, took me a few minutes to find Maria, I meant to get in with you,” he says, placing the fabric in your hands. The quick admission sparks hope in your chest. “She’s laundering your clothes, they’ll be ready in the morning. In the meantime, you can wear this.” It’s a well-worn tan T-shirt, large and loose enough that it looks like it might be closer to a night dress. It doesn’t even look like it once fit Dieter. The thought closes your throat up.

He has a designated shirt for casual fucks.

You smile and thank him, swallowing down the words you want to ask. He’s strangely perceptive though, more so than you thought.

“Hey, you okay? I thought you might be uncomfortable bare-assing it around the place, if you don’t like it I can find something else.” You shake your head, images of offered clothing from other flings swimming past your eyes.

“It’s fine, it’ll work just fine,” you wave him off, trying to force a smile on your face but it’s more effort than you expected. Dieter regards you with caution, his hands splayed on the vanity he just ate you out on as he leans back against it. He lets the silence linger, but his concerned eyes speak volumes.

“I didn’t think…” you finally huff out, surprised that you were actually going to voice this. Dieter smirks, his patience rewarded.

“Didn’t think I’d have a bed for you after? There’s a guest room, I would never throw a girl out after all that,” he smirks. His banter isn’t helping, and the fact that you’re being relegated to a guest room sinks a pit in your stomach. So that’s it. A nicety after everything.

“Thanks, Di,” you say quietly, dropping the towel to slip the shirt over your head. It covers enough that you can get to the privacy of the room. “Actually…” you start, the words tumbling from your mouth. “Sorry, I just didn’t think that you’d…want me to stay.”

Silence hangs between you and Dieter, you worrying at your lower lip, him shaking his head with a smug little smile.

“Why’s that?” he says, and at the same time you speak your truths.

“- Because I didn’t fuck you?”

“- Because you didn’t kiss me.”

You wait for a retort, or for Dieter to chuckle like you’re some naive little extra who sucked his dick thinking she’d get her big break. Instead you’re met with silence and dare to peek up at him.

Dieter’s smarmy smile and raised brow slowly soften, the purposefully casual lean replaced by a more aimless stance, hands rubbing along his outer thighs and feet shifting. His eyes dart around the bathroom as though looking for some sort of trick, a hidden camera, a paparazzi. The silence wrenches your gut even sharper.

“Sorry, that was…that was silly, I shouldn’t have said…shit, I think I’m just…gonna go…” you stammer, moving to walk past Dieter and out to your designated quick fuck bed, but his hands shoot out and wrap around your upper arms.

“Wait, wait, Murch,” he says, that ridiculous nickname back on his lips before he shakes his head and says your actual name. You still and wait, arms crossed over your chest as Dieter’s fingers rub unconsciously against the borrowed shirt.

“Wow, I just…wasn’t expecting that. Um. Yeah. Fuck. I didn’t think…you wanted that. To kiss me.” His voice drops lower, raspier as he drags his hands down to your elbows. His eyes are fixed on your lips now, swallowing hard as his teeth peek out to pinch at the plushness of his own.

“Don’t the people you sleep with want to kiss you?” Your gentle ask is met with a grimace and a halfhearted shrug, his gaze sliding over to your shoulder. It makes you want to hold him, so you do, cupping his scruffy face with your hands.

Because you now see Dieter Bravo, for all his playboy bravado, does not believe he’s worthy of affection.

He takes pride in how good he satisfies his partners, but doesn’t expect them to reciprocate. He’s a page in a tabloid, a rumor circling the internet, a persona based on how many partners he’s blown through and how many times he can debauch them. But they get their fuck and their story and leave, and they don’t even kiss him. How could they not want to the moment they see him?

“I wanted to kiss you,” you say, softly, thumb stroking a little bald patch in his beard. He huffs, discomfort radiating, but you keep your grounding hands on him. “When you held me in front of the mirror, and asked me what I wanted, I wanted to kiss you.”

Dieter’s face is warring with emotions as his hands fall to your waist, bunching the fabric there lightly.

“I’m not used to people wanting that,” he says, and one hand comes up to cup your neck, his broad palm wrapping you with heat.

“Can I kiss you, Dieter?” you coo as you move into his space, slipping your fingers into his wild locks and brushing his nose with yours in the barest of touches. He licks his lips and with a brief nod, he agrees.

Your lips touching gently, softly, raises the baby hairs on the back of your neck. God, fuck every person who made him feel like he wasn’t worthy of the simplest form of affection, his mouth is sublime. The short bristles of his mustache tickle your upper lip as you indulge, his plump lower one fitting perfectly against you. He barely moves, letting you guide him down and determine the pressure and length of time he gets to spend sealed to you. The tentative press of his mouth against yours lets you know he’s present, and when you part he keeps your foreheads pressed together with his hand on your neck.

His first breath is shaky, warm peppermint caressing your chest. His eyes are closed, a tiny furrow in his brow as he takes another slow breath. You slide your fingers through his thick curls, and the sigh that empties out of him quirks a corner of your mouth.

“Good?” you tease softly, and Dieter pulls back enough to look you in the eye. His pupils are blown wider than you’ve seen all night.

“Perfect,” he breathes, then, “sweetheart,” and his mouth is on yours again.

Where your first kiss was soft and hesitant, now Dieter’s mouth is slotting against yours, pulling you flush against him to wrap in his arms. He cradles the back of your head as he drinks you in, frantic movements and keens seeded into your mouth. You wind your arms around his neck, pulled up on your toes as he devours you. Your lips part on a tiny gasp and he dips his tongue inside, a barely-there swipe against yours asking permission. With a suck of that full lower lip into your mouth you give him everything, and he accepts.

Dieter’s possessive hands hold you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. He barely gives you time to breathe before licking into you with fervor, sliding your tongues together and exploring every corner of your hot mouth. When he parts from you he presses smaller, chaste kisses along your jaw, on the apples of your cheeks, a sweet one on the tip of your nose. He’s mapping your face with his lips but never strays far from your own.

Finally, after however many minutes of devotion he offers at your altar, Dieter pulls back and presses your foreheads together again, this time with both hands cradling your face.

“Jesus Christ, I'm an idiot,” is the first thing he says, a wave of giggles washing over you. He joins you with some hiccupy laughs, stroking his thumbs over your cheekbones.

“Okay, okay, let me try to…fucking explain myself because you gotta be confused,” he says, circling you in his arms and leaning back to look you in the face. His lips are pink and swollen, and you can’t help but steal another quick kiss at how delectable they look. His eyes drift closed before he shakes his head and takes a deep breath.

“Focus, Bravo,” he scolds, and the sterner face he puts on makes you giggle yet again.

“Okay so, I fucked up a little tonight. I meant to pace myself with my usual recreationals, but I was…nervous, or excited, or something, that you were coming. And I wasn’t paying enough attention to my dosing and I pushed myself over the line…more than I intended.” Your brow furrowed at his words, making him grimace with a sheepish smile. “I uh, can’t get hard for too long if I have too much blow, and that is…what I did tonight. And believe me, I am fucking disappointed in myself for not being more careful about that.” The threads start coming together now as you listen, arms loose around Dieter’s broad shoulders. “Because I had a plan, but I knocked my main guy out of the ring before the match even started!” At this you start full-body laughing, Dieter’s sparkling smile joining you as you snort against his chest. He laughs too, pressing a kiss against the top of your head. Once you get your fit under control he continues.

“So I had a plan B, but then it looked like you were going to leave, and sweetheart, I absolutely could not let you walk out that door. Not after you finally came here, looking so goddamn pretty. So this was, um, plan…C. Maybe D.”

“D for Dieter Bravo making me cum in a bathroom?” you quip back, eliciting another smile. You liked making him do that.

“Yeah, something like that. But not what you deserve.” He smooths a hand up your back, his eyes softening. “Let me make it up to you?” There is dark chocolatey promise in that phrase that sends a tingle up your spine. You tap a finger against your chin in contemplation.

“That depends. What was plan A?” you ask with curiosity. Dieter sighs and turns his head up to the ceiling.

“That when everyone went out to the pool I was going to ask if you wanted a tour of the house. There’s supposedly a Mondrian in the basement but I took a look and I think it’s a fake.” He tips his head back down and there’s mischief in his eyes now. “Then I was going to take you upstairs to the balcony and make you cum on my fingers as we watched the pool party. And do it again with my tongue as I draped you over my bed. And finally, on my cock and whatever ways you wanted as long as I could keep you there.” Heat creeps up your neck as the more coy and filthy Dieter comes to the surface, but with a tinge of vulnerability still left in his eyes.

“Plan B?” you choke out, his eyes narrowing and smile becoming more predatory as he noses along your jaw.

“Well once I realized I’d fucked it all up and my dick would be down for the count, I thought maybe I’d just tongue you in front of that fake Mondrian until you begged me to stop. Then I was going to offer you the guest bed so when I woke up in the morning I could fuck you properly. Because you deserve the best I have to offer.” Your breaths are coming in smaller pants as Dieter’s hands wander to your ass and squeeze, the tip of his tongue tracing the shell of your ear. You fist the back of his shirt and his thick curls again, and a delightful little moan pops out of his treacherous mouth.

“But then I couldn’t find you after I got all the assholes outside, so I panicked. Caught you coming out of the bathroom and you looked like you were gonna leave, and I lost my cool. I just wanted you here, to stay, wanted your body and your sweet pussy and those hot fucking moans in my ear and it didn’t matter where I got to have you as long as you let me.” He pulls away from your ear and searches your face for a moment, taking in your lidded eyes and parted lips. “And now…we’re here, and…fuck, I want to kiss you again,” he whispers.

You meet in the middle, all tongue and teeth and lips as the kiss becomes frantic, Dieter stumbling back against the vanity as you tug at the neck of his shirt. His hand slides down your spine, grip at your shoulders, your hips, the supple flesh of your ass before he breaks from your mouth, lips spit-slicked and reddened.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he rasps, cupping your face and laying a chaste kiss on your lips. “I don’t fucking care if I can cum or keep it up or not, I need to fuck you. Do you want…do you want to have sex with me?” he asks, his chest rising and falling in measured intervals as he tries to steady himself. You chuckle and turn into his hand, eyes sparkling when they meet his lusty brown ones.

“Yes, Dieter, been wondering when you’d ask,” you reply, and the words are barely out before he’s sliding back against your mouth, like drinking from your lips is his only concern. He parts from you with a relieved sigh, his touches gentling on you.

“It’s been a weird night,” he says with an exaggerated eyebrow raise that makes you laugh. His hands slide down to take your wrists as he leads you backwards out of the bathroom. The fresh scent of the house without the lingering smell of sex perks your senses, and you realize you don’t hear partygoers anymore.

“Where’s…” you start to ask as Dieter continues leading you down a hall.

“Kicked them out when you were in the shower. Didn’t want them bothering us,” he explains quickly, pulling you into him again and spinning you around so now he’s leading you backwards. He finally stops in front of a closed door at the end of the hall.

“Last chance, sweetheart. Once I get you in my bed, you’re never gonna want to leave.” It’s a brag, but the slight downturn in his eyebrows makes you think Dieter might be enjoying your company as much as you were enjoying his.

“Take me to bed, Bravo,” you purr, and he backs you into his room and locks the door.

The room is reminiscent of a fancy hotel, a sitting room adjacent to a bedroom with modern but lifeless furniture. However, it’s the most Dieter room in the whole house. Stacks of spiral-bound art pads litter the desk by the window, charcoals messily spread across the glass top. A pile of dirty clothes occupies half the couch, and pill bottles and small boxes litter the coffee table. All of the art has been taken off the walls and replaced with taped-up squares of portraits and landscapes. More than a few are lewd in nature, but that artistic kind you can kind of get away with. Through the double doors, a king sized bed takes up most of the bedroom, lit by gleaming moonlight streaming in through a sliding glass door.

Dieter takes your hand, lacing your fingers together with an intimacy you return, and leads you to the crisply-made bed. Without a shred of modesty, Dieter peels the shirt off you and sits you down naked in front of him. The sheets feel heavenly against your skin, cool and soft. You can’t help flopping back and enjoying their texture.

“I think we’ll call this plan F, sweetheart,” he husks, and with a slide of his thumbs under his waistband he shucks off his sweatpants and lazily palms his half-hard cock.

Your thighs squeeze, begging for friction where you yearn for him the most, as he strokes his hand up from the base to the tip. His head tips back, eyes hooded as he watches your reaction. In the half darkness he’s pure sex, the softer curves of his stomach and thighs clenching as he drags his gaze over your body.

“F for finally fucking you,” he says, fingertips teasing the head as he thickens to rock hardness. His cock is perfection, pleasantly girthy and sinfully curved, darkening as he grips the base and hisses out a quiet breath.

“Better come here, then, we don’t have all night,” you tease back, scooting up to lounge on the mountain of pillows and widening your legs. His eyes flash darker, leaning over to plant his hands on the bed by your feet. You try to put on a coy act but your heart is pounding, driving every desire to pay hard to get from your mind as Dieter drinks you in. You think he growls for a moment seeing your glistening cunt spread for him as you preen under his gaze.

“Fuck, you’re going to kill me, sweetheart,” he groans, and in a moment his hands wrap around your ankles and drag you back down the bed, a surprised squeak dissolving into an even more shocked, “Dieter, fuck!” as he wraps his arms around your waist and presses his tongue right on your clit. Your throaty moans fill the bedroom as Dieter messily eats your pussy, splayed and arching in his bed. One hand leaves your waist and he’s pushing two sinfully thick fingers into your dripping entrance, finding the exact pressure and flick that pulls your orgasm to the forefront blindingly fast.

“That’s it, sweetheart, cum on my face so I can slide in this tight pussy,” he hums into your cunt and with a crook of his fingers and a sensual stroke of his tongue you’re cumming hard and loudly against Dieter’s mischievous smile. He gathers your slick in his mouth and drips it back onto your cunt, the slide of his fingers embarrassingly loud as he removes them.

“That is gonna stroke my ego for weeks, sweetheart. You cumming on my face that fast? After just giving you two? Fuck, I’m so hard right now, I might actually be able to cum myself.” You gasp out a laugh as you come back to reality, Dieter’s broad bare chest framed by your weak legs as he takes himself in hand, smearing your wetness along his length. “Let me put a condom on and then I’ll be back to wreck this pretty pussy.”

Dieter rounds the bed and opens his nightstand drawer, fishing out a condom and rolling it on with practiced efficiency. Looking back at you, he leans over and takes your nipple in his mouth, rolling the bud to aching hardness. His fingers drift to the neglected one and draw soft circles.

“Fuck, you’re so good,” he croons against the softness of your breast, clamoring onto the bed and scooting you back up so he can slot himself between your thighs. His eyes roam your naked body before settling back on your face. “What do you want, sweetheart? I’ll give you anything you want. I’ve got vibes, dildos, plugs, restraints, toys for you, toys for me. Anything you could ever want to make you cum on my cock.” Your hands come up to stroke across his smooth chest, tweaking his nipple to elicit your own delicious gasp.

“Is this the only time?” you ask, and suddenly the air turns heavy. You bite your lip, not intending to ruin the mood. “Just…was wondering if there’s time for those things…later.” You hold your breath but Dieter comes down on his elbows by your head and captures your mouth in a heady kiss.

“I hope to dear God this isn’t the only time,” he whispers, “because I want to have you in so many more ways than this, sweetheart.” The admission makes you pull him to back your mouth, crashing your lips together as he drops his hips and begins sliding his cock through your folds.

“Shit. Shit shit shit shit,” Dieter curses as the wet slip of his cock against you sparks the beginnings of another orgasm.

“If you do have a vibe, that’s the quickest way to make me cum on you,” you offer, and his expression vacillates between a pained ecstasy and smug competency.

“Who said anything about this being quick?” he retorts, laying a searing kiss on your mouth and a toothy one on your shoulder before sliding up the bed to dig in his bedside drawer again. You lay a breathy kiss on his stomach, earning a twitch and a huff from Dieter. He returns with a small bullet vibe between his fingers, pressing it into your hand. “You let me know when you want me to use this.” You nod as he slides back and repositions his knees, posting up on his arms as he watches the head of his cock notch at your entrance. You roll your hips at the insistent press and with a choked gasp slide onto him in a smooth motion.

“Fuck, you…oh shit, you feel so good, sweetheart, oh God, Jesus Christ,” Dieter moans out as you hook your heels behind his thighs and pull yourself down on him, his diatribe getting louder and more needy as you savor the thick ridge of his head pushing through your slick channel. You palm your breasts and Dieter practically shouts as you seat him flush inside you.

“Holy shit, that was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen, sweetheart. Holy fuck, you’re perfect, you’re perfect, can I move? Please can I move, holy mother of God I need to fuck you.” His hands are gripping the sheets next to you so tight you almost hear threads rip. Taking advantage of the heady power you have over him right now, you roll your hips and drag him out of you before taking him back up to the hilt. His stuttering moan is a symphony of pleasure.

“Fucking little tease, do you like fucking yourself on me like this? Using me for my hard cock? Shit, I’m barely inside and I know this is going to be the best fucking pussy I’ve ever had,” Dieter moans, the bulge of muscles in his neck and biceps betraying how worked up he truly is.

“If you wanted me to use you,” you counter, sliding along his length with lazy ease, “then you should have had me get on top. Let me bounce on this thick cock until you begged me to make you cum.” You pause just long enough for the glint of Dieter’s eyes in the dim light to find you. A devious smile of your own curls across your lips. “Then I’d still make you wait.”

Hot possessive hands circle your waist as Dieter rolls you both, his head thumping back on the bed as you come to a straddle.

“Then do it, sweetheart. Bounce on me like the fucktoy I am,” he pants, and where he was dripping with authority and smug assuredness before, his voice is wracked with neediness now. It swells pride in your chest - the unflappable Dieter Bravo falling apart under you - as you begin to roll your hips along his cock. His hands remain on your waist, but he’s holding on for dear life more than guiding you.

The night fills with the wet sound of your cunt filling with Dieter’s hard cock, harmonizing with his groans and growls and your keening breaths. You palm your breasts and flick your thumb over your nipples, basking in the undivided attention of Dieter watching you like a succubus.

“Sweetheart, I didn’t think you could be more gorgeous but you, fuck, you keep proving me wrong. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than you on my cock. I want to paint you just like this, so fucking powerful and feminine and…shit, you’re a fucking goddess, let me worship you, let me give you everything you want, fuck, fuck sweetheart, I want…I want you every way I can have you, give you every part of me. I want you to ruin me, sweetheart, ruin me, ruin me, ruin me,” he starts chanting, spurring you on to fuck him faster, harder, slamming your hips against his as he thrusts up to meet you. His eyes roll back in his head as bliss paints his face.

“That’s it, sweetheart, change me, change me, change me, sweetheart, I’m yours,” Dieter moans, and a gleam of wetness around his cheeks makes you lean over him. You were right, a slivered trail of tears is leaking out of the corner of his eye, breathing ragged. You stop suddenly, wiping the tear away as you feel Dieter’s breathing calm again. You hold him inside you, soothing him as he puts a hand over his mouth. “I’m sorry, sorry…” he whispers as you lay soft kisses across the back of his palm, on his cheeks, and once he removes his hand on his lips.

“I don’t want to change you, Dieter, you’re enough,” is all you say, eyes meeting as you watch the minute muscles of his face fight through self loathing, hope, relief, and finally determination before he flips you both again. He dives his dexterous fingers into your palm to take the bullet vibe back, sliding it between his lips briefly to wet it before clicking it on. The subtle buzz tingles in your teeth before he slides it over your clit, pressing his hips flush. The vibrations search for your orgasm as Dieter begins thrusting with short, rolling strokes, keeping the vibe pressed snugly against you. Your hands clench his shoulders as he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

“Thank you,” he whispers, lips mashed messily against your neck as he angles his thrusts up to hit against your g-spot again. “Sweet girl, thank you. This is…so good, so perfect. Thank you.” When your mouth drops into an O he knows he’s found it, adding more force as he slides his mouth down to your nipple. His fingers wrap around the little vibe and swirl it over your clit in a pattern that makes you tighten around him.

“Shit, Di, I’m so close, please,” you beg, Dieter releasing your nipple with a soft pop.

“You never have to ask with me,” he says, and whether it’s a tease or a promise doesn’t matter when he punches up and swirls just right and you’re cumming hard and blindingly around him. Your hips snap and rock, making him hold you tight and flush to him as he shouts his own pleasure. He can barely move inside you, gripped so tight he’s baring his teeth as the aftershocks finally let you relax back down on the bed. You gaze up at him, wild-eyed, thrumming with tension and question.

“Cum for me, Dieter,” you order, and with that permission he snaps his hips quickly into yours, throwing his head back and bellowing when his orgasm rips through his body. You feel him pulse inside of you, emptying out into the condom as Dieter’s thighs shake at the force of his peak.

“Fuck,” he gasps weakly, combing his curls back from his face. You smile lazily, stroking your fingertips along his forearms as his fingers relax on your hips.

“Guess this is a night of cherries for both of us,” you say, a teasing smile at the corner of your mouth. Dieter huffs out a laugh, pulling out and disposing of the condom before flopping down beside you.

There’s a long moment of silence, only your rushing blood and heartbeat in your ears, before Dieter pulls himself up on one elbow with a groan. His fingers skim your wrist, taking your hand and placing your palm against his face. You gladly stroke along that scruffy cheek, your thumb tracing that extremely kissable lower lip. The look he gives you is the most puppy-dog expression you’ve seen on a person before.

“Would you stay the night?” he asks, and the light touch of uncertainty makes your heart flutter.

“In the guest bed?” you reply innocently, and Dieter shakes his head with an incredulous look.

“Fuck no. With me.” His eyes widen. “If you want to. You don’t have to, the guest room is all set up, and I snore and take up the whole bed…” You silence him with a finger on his lips.

“With you,” you agree, and Dieter smiles and nips at your finger in agreement.

Dieter actually doesn’t snore, you’re not sure who told him that. He’s a heavy breather but the noise machine covers most of that. He does take up a lot of the king-sized bed, but it’s mostly because he wants to touch you no matter where you lie. When you roll onto your stomach one heavy hand slides under your borrowed shirt and rests on your lower back. On your side he tries to curl up under you to be the little spoon, which makes a sleepy smile inch across your face. In the middle of the night he gets up to pee and when he returns, you now lying on your back, he crawls up your body and settles between your thighs, tucking his face into the crook of your neck. It’s a little ticklish and heavy, but the sigh he breathes into your skin quickly lulls you back to sleep.

Golden morning light bathes you in warmth as you slowly come to consciousness. Your brain groggily registers that you’re not in your bed at home, the sheets too soft and the mattress too plush. You blearily look around for some context before you realize you’re alone. Alone in Dieter Bravo’s bed, where you spent the night after he pleasured you like a man possessed and kissed you like you were his only air. But he’s nowhere in sight now.

You sit up, back cracking but otherwise decently rested. You’re peering around for a clock, or where your purse might be, when the bedroom door creaks open. A familiar halo of curls peeks in, and the grin that graces his face makes you smile sheepishly back.

“Woke up alone,” you tut at him with fake annoyance, but are secretly relieved he’s there. It made last night feel less like a personal porno and more like something secret and sweet.

Then he comes into the room followed by a pleasantly smiling man pushing a cart. You squeak and yank the covers up to your neck, but the man doesn’t remark as he pushes the cart with covered dishes to the balcony. Dieter throws a secret smile at you as he saunters to the foot of the bed. He’s wearing a white cotton bathrobe, not the ratty ones he normally glides around in. This one looks like it would be more suited in a hotel, and when you catch the Ritz logo on the lapel you realize why. It makes his skin look all the more olive-toned and glowing. His tongue peeks between his teeth as he smiles at you, and your cunt is suddenly very much awake and very much slick at his attention.

“Thought you’d like some breakfast after all the excitement of last night,” he says, nodding at the man who leaves just as quickly as he came in. You catch a glimpse of the outside balcony with two chairs facing each other, a spread of food that’s easily too much for the both of you. But Dieter is what pulls your focus right now.

“I am starving. Where’s my phone?” you ask, leaning back against the pillows as you hear the door close behind your guardian breakfast angel.

“Never keep a phone where you sleep!” Dieter lightly scolds as he crawls up the bed towards you, his robe drooping open to reveal nothing underneath. You giggle as he drops kisses along the tops of your thighs, the soft curve of your stomach, the underside of your breasts. “The Bluetooth messes with your sleep cycle, and the signal your cell phone sends out increases your tech addiction.” You roll your eyes at his lecture and card your fingers through his hair as his mouth finally makes it to yours for a slow morning kiss.

“Hi,” he says, your noses bumping together as his smile dimples his cheek.

“Hi,” you reply, his body settling into yours as he regards you fondly.

“So the kitchen made enough food to feed an army, probably because they thought I had an orgy in here last night. The noise and all.” A laugh sputters out of you that you catch in your hand. Dieter ducks his head to drag his aquiline nose and full lips against your collarbone, tickling you as he speaks.

“So I thought we’d have breakfast, take a shower, together of course, then maybe we drive out to Santa Monica? I’ve been craving a corn dog real bad. And a walk on the pier. And then maybe lunch on the strip, a stroll on the beach, and dinner and drinks on Third Avenue.” Dieter’s voice is getting quieter as he speaks, finally looking up to take in your wondering face.

“Dieter, are you asking me out on a date?” you ask, and you can’t help how confused you sound. This was…not at all what you thought would follow last night. But Dieter is looking at you with mixed shyness and hope, and it’s filling your heart to bursting.

“Would you…like to go on a date with me?” he asks, and your smile is too bright to hide.

“Yeah, I would,” you answer, prompting Dieter to kiss you like you gave him his Oscar personally. Once you parted, a few errant giggles of relief washing over you, you speak.

“What comes after dinner and drinks?”

Dieter’s eyes darken briefly, sliding you down so he can hover over you, caging you in with his thick biceps.

“Something similar to what I’m gonna do to you now. Or completely different. Ladies’ choice,” he purrs against your lips.

“Then I think I’m gonna have to call out of work.”

“Already done, sweetheart.”

END

#dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter x reader #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo x you #the bubble fic #the bubble fanfic #prolix fics #best laid plans series

[kornflake82]

Hi!!! I love your writings I'm addicted!!!!! Could I maybe request a sniper fic in which the "oh no only one bed" trope encounter (perhaps just in his van) but the reader was already wearing something revealing and it's driving him kind of nuts. He like gets more and more frustrated and eventually just kind of makes a brutally honest move in initiating an intimate moment (if yk what I mean)?? I know it's weirdly specific and idm if you skip this one!!! Also Sniper and the reader were not in a relationship before this encounter. Ty!!!!

I had so much fun writing this one tbh hopefully I was able to faithfully capture what you had envisioned!!!!-- i admit i wrote sniper a wee bit out of character towards the end but that was mostly a plot driven choice for the frustration bit :3 enjoy!!!!

Stake Out (Sniper x fem!Reader)

Sniper didn't understand why he couldn't just be alone. He's never needed another person to watch his back while on a stake-out, and he damn sure doesn't need one now. Admittedly, he's quite frustrated. With you? Not exactly. With the situation? Damn straight. The dead of summer heat left you scantily clad, much to Sniper's detriment. How could he bear to get anything done when you're sitting right here next to him like this, as if on display? You weren't exactly a happy camper, either. You knew Sniper didn't need any help, so you were already prepared to deal with a sour attitude-- but the unbearable heat and the fact that you have no choice but to spend a night together in his one-man van--left you equally as frustrated as the Aussie.

As the afternoon dragged on, you let out an exasperated sigh and turned to your superior. "Is it okay if I take a nap?" You ask meekly, afraid of distracting him as he peered through his scope wordlessly. Sniper pauses a moment, then sets his rifle down. "A nap? Wasn't your whole reason for bein' 'ere to watch my back?" The look on his face sent a shiver down your spine. It was just an innocent question, really! You figured since it was an unspoken fact that the both of you knew you didn't really need to be here, it would be okay if you, well, slacked a bit. You cock your head to the side before testing the waters again. "...yes?" He stared at you with an expression you were unable to read. Was he mad? Was he just pulling your leg? Sniper pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, looking back up at you sternly. "Sure." It was hard to deny that his pent up frustration, among his general discontent with today's circumstances, left him irritable. From the bloody start he just wished he could be alone. None of this would have happened! Now how is he supposed to concentrate with the temptation of your vulnerable, unconscious body left splayed out before him mere feet away?! He shooed you along, allowing you to sleep in the camper while he did a little exercise in self control and maintained watch on enemy territory.

Upon entering, you thought nothing more of your surroundings and crashed on the bed with a soft thud. It was almost too easy to fall asleep, until you shot straight up and felt panic set in. Oh god. This is the only bed in this whole camper. The only viable surface to lay on, period. You were suddenly plagued with the image of a scowling Sniper, and the discomforting silence that hung around the two of you all day. How on earth are we supposed to sleep in this bed together?! The thought of cuddling with your superior after you were sure you just ruined his whole day made you tremble with anxiety. You thought it best to set your worries aside for now to get some rest. Perhaps if you slept now, that meant you could stay up on watch through the night while Mundy got his rest--avoiding the bed predicament entirely. As you pondered on what exactly you'd like to say and played out the interaction in your head, you lulled yourself to sleep with your own thoughts. The heat left you laid out on top of the covers with your sweat-soaked garments hugging your body like a constrictor. Right as you fell asleep, Sniper, with his brief solitude, was able to clear his head and abate his frustration for the time being.

With no new action on the frontier, he decided to take a small break to check on you, making sure you at least were comfortable back there. Sniper knew it wasn't exactly a home, and felt a slight twinge of guilt having such a beautiful girl like you surrounded in his clutter. The Aussie gently knocked before entering still, and was greeted by the sight of you, out cold in a starfish position. He stumbled back, instinctively snatching off his hat and using it to cover his eyes. Guess she made herself comfortable. He thought to himself, hiding his flushed expression behind the slouch hat. Sniper set the hat back on his head, clearing his throat to try and escape the awkward silence between himself and your unconscious form below him. Mundy knew he had no business back here anymore--all he was to do was assure you found yourself alright back there, then he would return to his post. Yet, he found he couldn't bring himself to move. His eyes were glued to your body, as if its beauty had taken hold of him. You could still feel an overbearing presence, even in your unconscious state, which caused you to stir. Sniper inched closer to you, against his better judgment. The pent up frustration from spending a whole afternoon next to you, wearing the least amount of clothing you could get away with...it drove him absolutely mad. Even more so, knowing there was nothing he could do about it--he couldn't make a move, he was a professional after all! ...And professionals have standards. Before finally returning to his post, he hastily covered your limp form with a used towel discarded nearby. Out of sight, out of mind.

The afternoon waned into evening, and not long thereafter plunged the frontier into night. Still no new sights to behold, Sniper quickly wrapped up the stake-out. After notating the last of his findings, he started the van with an exasperated sigh. 'Bout damn time this bloody day's over. I can finally relax. He thought to himself. As he maneuvered the van to a more discrete location, Sniper's thoughts were suddenly interrupted with the damning realization of the sleeping situation. Meanwhile, the engine sounds and sudden sensation of movement woke you from your slumber. You rubbed your eyes as you took a moment to regain awareness, still stuck in the drunken stupor of your slumber. You looked down at the towel serving as your blanket, and couldn't help but notice the familiar musky scent of your superior overwhelming your senses. A light blush dusted your cheeks as you realized this meant Sniper had come in and covered you up. You sat up now, and peered through the blinds of a nearby window. You found yourself lost in admiration of the purplish tranquility of the sleeping desert before you. So much so, that you hadn't noticed the van had stopped, nor the sound of Sniper joining you in the camper.

Upon turning away from the window you shrieked in surprise. "When did you get there?!" You asked, startled from the sudden company of your superior. "Well, if you'd get your head out of the sand you'd've noticed I came in about," He starts, checking his watch for dramatic effect, "5 minutes ago." You rolled your eyes at his attitude while scooting away from the window and pulling the towel back over yourself. "I just don't understand how a dry death-scape can become subzero in just a matter of hours." You remarked, now shuddering from the cold. "Uhh, yeah...about that," Sniper trailed off, his edge now softened by embarrassment. "How d'ya wanna do this? I shouldn't have to state the obvious..." He deliberately avoided eye contact with you as he spoke. Now it was your turn to serve that Aussie attitude right back at him. "What's wrong? The world's greatest sniper is scared of a wittle bed?" His gaze snapped to you, slightly taken aback by your sass. "Whatd'ya just say to me?" Sniper pressed on. His brows were furrowed in growing anticipation and he almost wished you'd keep up your act. Thankfully, you delivered. "You heard me! It's just a bed. Or is it not the bed...is it me? You don't wanna share a bed with me??"

Admittedly, you had no idea where you pulled the confidence from to speak to your superior like this. Perhaps it was just frustration from a day wasted, or dwindling tolerance for his own sour attitude. Whatever it was, you knew you were already so deep in a hole you figured you might as well make it deeper. Sniper moved closer in response to your questioning. "You think I'm scared of a little bed? Or a little girl, no less?!" The gap between the two of you was nonexistent. "No, I'm not scared at all, roo. I figured'ya wanna sleep alone. But I guess I was wrong, yea? You really wanna share a bed?" He threw your sass right back at you and now you were in a corner. Literally-- he towered over you, causing you to scoot back until you met the foot of the bed in question. Sniper pursued, leaving you caged between himself and the bed. "Sure, roo, we can share the bed. Why, let's just go ahead and get right in." He suddenly scooped you into his surprisingly robust arms and sat down on the bed with you still in his embrace.

He held you almost too tight, and you instinctively straddled him. While sitting in his lap, you felt his erection poke the soft flesh between your thighs. Your flushed faces were mere inches apart, and before you could open your mouth to speak, Sniper grabbed the back of your head and pulled you into a fervent, aggressive kiss. It didn't take you long to reciprocate, letting your hands wander along his jawline and neck innocently as he pushed further, now breaching the territory of your mouth with his tongue. The throbbing wetness between your legs begged for reprieve, and you shyly rocked your hips against Sniper's to get the friction you so desperately needed. He broke the kiss, a glinting trail of saliva still connecting the two of you in a depraved, arousing kind of way. Large gloved hands trailed down your sides, one of them finding itself between your legs. Sniper teasingly ghosted his fingers just above, below, and around exactly where you wanted them to be which caused your legs to tremble in anticipation and now-bubbling over arousal. Suddenly, he removed his hand entirely, looking back at you with an impish smirk.

"Scared enough for ya, roo?"

#team fortress 2 x reader #team fortress 2 #tf2 x reader #tf2 #tf2 sniper x reader #tf2 sniper #mick mundy #fem reader #requests #anonymous

[pip-n-chips]

Wich dol charactor would play a game akin to dol?? I need your opinion on this since your doing gamer content now

OKAY this might not be the answer you were expecting, but!!

Short Answer: Sydney!

Long answer (under the cut, because it got longer than I expected it to be):

I think it'd be Sydney. And not even their corrupted version (yet). They'd either find out about it on their own or through another student sending it to them as a prank, thinking they'd be utterly disgusted by it. And they are! They click off their browser as soon as they realize what the link leads to, and they're too horrified to even open it back up to delete the tab.

Such vile things,, who could play this without being ashamed- or even worse, get off from it?

They're shocked, nauseous, etc etc. But for the next few days they're uneasy, frustrated, shameful. Because for some reason they can't stop thinking about it- for the small bits of it they did see, anyway. They worry the devil has planted a seed within them the moment they found out about the game, and, like how they do for a lot of their other problems, they go to Jordan. Maybe they're too embarrassed or horrified to be specific about what's been plaguing their mind, but they give enough details for Jordan's advice to be helpful, for a little while at least.

At the end of the day though, all the praying and all the distractions achieved nothing, because they come back to the game's tab one night out of a moment of weakness. They tell themself it's just to get it out of their system, to remind themself of how horrid- how sinful this stuff is, set their mind straight. They don't even bother with character creation their first run, they just want to get it over with.

But one hour turns into two and their cheeks are hot and their eyes are glued to the screen. Two turns into three into four and their thighs are rubbing together and they wish they didn't have this damn chasity cage/belt on. Four turns into five into six and suddenly there's birds chirping and sunlight shining through the window and oh god what did they just do, what will the temple think about this, what will-

They don't have the courage to go to the temple before school, and they decline Sirris' offer to drive them. They just- they just need to think over things, clear their head, and walking to school will do it. They're flushed and more of a mess than usual, but no one notices, not really. (And if they did, no one would ever guess the real reason, yeah? At least they have that reputation going for them.)

They decide that they'll never let this happen again, but spoiler alert! It happens again pretty soon. They keep up their normal routine, they go to school, they go to the temple- but everytime they pray, they feel like they're unworthy to be listened to. They've been tainted, and they can't even blame anyone for it.

Jordan probably notices that they're more withdrawn and reaches out, but Sydney assures them that they're fine! In reality, they're unsure what to think anymore, they don't know themself anymore, and they're afraid. They're getting corrupted all on their own, and it's so damn addicting.

Guilty pleasures, man.

#this poor nerd needs to get laid lmaooo #hopefully it's easy to follow btw my bad skhd #degrees of lewdity #sydney the faithful #dol sydney #sydney the fallen #dol #ask #pippywrites

[lexa-griffins]

I know I haven't been keeping up with asks and due to probably not being able to write anything for while here's a short drabble of an idea I had ages ago and might never write.

Assassin Lexa x Target Clarke

--

You’re here to kill her. 

Your end goal is simply to terminate her, a job like all the others. You keep reminding yourself of your assignment, repeating it like a motto so it  never leaves your head. 

When she smiles you repeat it, a warning to yourself. When she wraps a hand around your waist and pulls you closer, biting your lip like it belongs to her. When she takes you on a date that always ends with you naked in her bed, panting and unable to differentiate the taste of her from the taste of you, you see it burnt into your brain.

Clarke’s not a play thing, she’s not a lover. She’s a target.

And she knows it.

She’s not stupid, not the way your briefing said she might be. There is some naïvety to her, that much is true, how she believes she can make the world a better place, her drive to help and be needed mildly infuriating but she is still as cunning and manipulative and deceiving as you are, keeping you on your toes everyday, like this is a game - like she has a chance to win.

Truth is, you enjoy it. That’s why you keep delaying putting a bullet to her head. That’s why you keep dressing up, the tight short dresses and expensive lingerie that remove all of the bright blue out of her eyes. That’s why you keep coming back as if you were addicted to her; her smell, her taste, her touch. She’s addicted to you too, it’s oh so obvious in the way she looks, touches, fucks you.

She knows how this will end. She knows you are as further as she’ll go in life, for when you’re gone from it, she will have no more life for her to live. 

Nevertheless, here you stand, in the living room of her uptown loft, the one she can somehow afford, despite working as family doctor in a clinic downtown and claiming she has nothing to do with her mother’s political career. The apartment is bare for the most part. She prefers spending her money on experiences you’ve come to learn; Michelin stars dinning, tropical vacations, luxurious hotels. You’ve gone with her on them all. 

It’s quite sad it has to end but you’ve gone on with this charade for long enough. The loaded gun weights on your hand, on your heart, but you both knew it would end up like this. You went out of your way to make sure she dies well, happy, loved, a luxury you have never granted to a target before.

A loud pop coming from the kitchen momentarily distracts you.

“One of these days I’m gonna lose a fucking eye trying to serve you wine!” She grunts from the kitchen, back turned to you as she tries her best to get as much wine inside the glass as she can manage.

You smile, despite yourself. She’s just a few drops past tipsy, her tone dropping lower and raspier, the slurred words adding just the right hint of adorableness to the eroticism of her voice. 

You raise the gun. 

You took her to dinner at the Greek place downtown, her favorite. You kept your hair loose because you know that’s how she likes it; she told you so the very first time she met you, only a couple exchanges into the conversation, your hair tied in an elegant bun at the time. You made a point of wearing the tight leather dress she commented on more than once when you walked hand in hand through the stores fronts, whispering all the sinful things she would like to do to you while you wear it. 

The barrel points to her head, quick and clean. 

In another life maybe you two could have been happy. You’d move in with her and in a one year time you’d propose, married by this date two years from now. You’d get a cat and then go off to travel the world with her, let her pamper you like she enjoys to do while you simply sit back and enjoy life. It sounds nice; perfect even.

But that life does not exist, and because you cannot afford what if’s, you take a deep breath.

She turns before your finger presses the trigger and you’re left with her staring at with a playful smirk, your gun pointed right at her forehead - a clear shot.

“Lexa, I’ve told you, no weapons in the apartment.” She’s nonchalant about it, does not even blink an eye at the gun you hold in your hand.

You adore her for that.

#ignoreme.jpg #clexa #this is actually what latter become mobster daughter #Clarke was supposed to take the gun from Lexa and point it at her while fucking her #sorry for 2nd person i was trying something when i wrote this