#fic: carnal-val

[covetyou]

jack of all trades

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Whiskey x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: Circus AU, public sex, exhibitionism, unprotected PIV, oral (m receiving), brief fingering, creampie, is it mild bondage if it's part of a circus act?, reader is wearing a dress, optional fluffy ending. word count: 4.5k summary: A trip to the circus goes awry thanks to your meddling not-quite-nephews and a handsome stranger in a cowboy hat. Just how did you come to be bent over this barrel anyway?

A/N: clown!Dieter spawned a P-boy circus AU, and now here we are. I am not sorry.

I have an ex called Jack, so parts of this were disgusting to me, fyi. that name is tainted. fluffy ending came and hit me in the face, these two seemed too into each other to leave it there. totally optional and you can ignore its existence if you want.

divider by @saradika-graphics

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Sticky fingers clasp around your wrist, dragging your arm into the air. Your sort-of-nephews had been up to mischief all evening. What they were raising your hand for, you don't know, so you roll your eyes and play along, waggling your fingers skyward just as a beam of light hits you directly in the face.

Shit.

"Well there now, pretty lady, why don't you come on down here."

Double shit.

The voice of the man you'd spent the past twenty minutes fixated on booms over the speakers. Your not-nephews are cackling, your best friend shooting an apologetic look over their scruffy heads as a beautiful woman covered in sequins prances up the stairs to retrieve you. Before you know it you're being hauled down the steep steps, slender fingers holding you tight.

She glides elegantly over the dust covered arena floor, dragging you behind. You stumble, kicking up dust as you're pulled to the middle of the ring and left face to face with the ringmaster.

He was even more enchanting up close. The whole place was, really, but he commanded the space, dominated it, his smooth voice amplified by a microphone hidden at his hairline. You hadn't been to many circuses - none, actually - but you were fairly sure the black cowboy hat that sat on his head wasn't typical headwear for a man with his job description.

He takes one glance at you, sizing you up, before turning to his captive audience with arms spread wide.

"Looks like we found ourselves a damsel," he announces to the crowd, strutting around the ring, the tools of his trade clattering on a belt slung loosely around his waist beneath his jacket. He'd been a distraction from high up in the stand, but up close he was all consuming. You were grateful for the coat tails covering his ass, restricting your view as his hips swayed with each step.

The sequinned woman is back, tossing the Ringmaster rope threaded with something shiny. The tendons in his broad hands flex as he grips the cord, pulling it firmly and holding it up to be viewed by the crowd. At some point she approaches you too, whispering in your ear. You nod along, unable to hear a thing over the blood rushing in your ears and the distracting thrum between your legs. Standing here shouldn't be doing this to you, least of all in front of so many people, but it is. Fuck, you need to get laid.

The music ramps up, a conversation with the crowd totally missed as you fixate on the man before you. There's a distant toot toot and the ringmaster is hurrying back over to you, skillfully unfurling the rope.

"Hold this, sugar," he tells you, voice echoing over the speakers as he hands you one end of the rope. He begins to wind it around you, his long strides making quick work of each rotation. Soon, the rope is spiralled around your torso, across your hips, and winds down your legs. He tucks one end loosely into the last spiral - a kick of your leg could have the whole thing unravelling in seconds if you wanted it to.

A finger on your chin snaps your eyes to his, his dazzling lopsided smile catching you off guard as chaos erupts around you, and he's turning, quickly pulling his lasso from his belt as a group of clowns rush into the ring, galloping around on hobby horses.

Between the brilliant white lights and the galloping clowns, you don't know what's going on. The crowd seem to love it, loud cheers erupting as the ringmaster starts to swing his lasso. With a skilled flick of his wrist, he throws it, capturing one of the clowns and yanking him to the ground. The clown hits the ground with a drum roll and a crash of cymbals, rolling around before he can scramble back to his feet. The ringmaster does it again, capturing another galloping clown with a well practiced throw, one that grumbles and frowns as he's reeled in.

Every minute of chaos and clowns is another minute of sweet agony for you, stood wrapped in golden rope as you keep your eyes locked on the ringmaster in the cowboy hat. His form is elegant, skilled hands knowing the rope of his lasso better than your own know your own body.

When most of the clowns, and their hobby horses, are on the ground, rolling around with fake groans, he reaches for his whip, fingers clasping tight around the leather wrapped handle as the length snakes to the ground.

A final swing of his arm, and the whip slices through the air. a sonic boom cracks at the end of it, silencing any music and drawing a gasp from your chest. The crowd is stunned, the clowns are still, and you are painfully, unbelievably, wet.

Amazing really, how one flick of the wrist could make the sticky situation between your thighs so much worse.

By the time the clowns have rounded themselves up and hobbled off clasping at themselves in mock agony, the ringmaster is approaching you, winking before bending down to tug at the rope nestled against your leg. You can't help the twitch in your hips, rocking forward toward his face just as he takes in a deep breath. He stills momentarily, cocking his head, before finally freeing the rope, and you, and raising to his full height before you.

If you weren't mortified already, you definitely are when his eyes flick from your own, down to between your legs, and back again with a quirk of his eyebrow and a knowing smirk. Shit. The shuffle of your feet definitely doesn't help matters. This can't go on, you decide, you really need to get laid.

Escorted back to your seat, you spend the rest of the show with your legs clamped together and your jaw tensed, watching as the ringmaster comes and goes, introducing act after act, until they're all taking their final bows. Your resolve is all but gone as you watch him strut out of the ring for the final time.

Traversing crowds of revellers back to the car park, you say your quick goodbyes to your friend, her sons getting irritable now that the sugar high has ended and bed time beckons. You'll see them soon, you promise, and you turn on your heel, disappearing into the crowd once more.

You don't make it to your car.

Instead, you make the trek back to the big top, circling it until you find the crew entrance. Costumed performers are coming and going, staff hauling boxes and costumes to and fro. You wait for an opening and take it, darting into the tent as quickly as you can.

No one pays you any mind, they seem to not care that you definitely do not belong back here as you glance all around, eyes wide like a child in a toy store, making your way deeper and deeper into the backstage tent.

And there he is. The ringmaster in the cowboy hat. All suave smiles and flirty quips as he props himself against a supporting post, one ankle crossed over the other as he leans. There's a group of girls in front of him, all much younger than he is and eating up his every word. It might be sickening if you weren't so jealous of them.

You loiter, waiting for them to leave, wondering how much time you'd have to talk to him as each minute ticks by. It's then that he spots you, eyes connecting with yours as you stand awkwardly in the shadow.

He makes a quick excuse, hurries quick goodbyes, brushes his lips across four sets of knuckles, and then turns on you, making short work of the distance between you.

You don't know it then, but he's been hard, achingly so, since watching you leave the ring and head back to your seat. Every time he'd stepped backstage he adjusted his pants, letting his erection wane a little, only to head back out to your incessant stare, beautiful eyes staring down at him doing nothing but mildly torture him and make him stiffen in his pants. Over and over. Now you were in front of him, a chance dangled before him, ripe for the picking.

He reaches for your hand with his much larger one, clasping it gently. "Rude of me not to properly introduce myself back there. Name's Jack."

You try his name on for size, rolling it around your mouth a little before giving him your own.

"Got a little exciting back there, huh," he says in a low voice, brushing his thumb over his bottom lip, his eyes taking a leisurely meander down your body.

"Uh, yeah," you say, rubbing the back of your neck. "Look, I'm sorry if that made anything awkward I -"

He cuts you off with a laugh. "Woah there, sugar, never said anything about it bein' awkward now. Of course, if you got all some kind of way over the clowns, that'd be a different story," he teases with a wink.

Your eyes widen at the mention of the clowns, and Jack laughs again, revelling in the way he could so easily bring you to stunned silence. You'd barely even looked at the clowns, hardly noticing they were there save for a blur of color as they circled you in the ring.

"So what was it that did it for you?" He questions, a twinkle in his eye. "The whip or the lasso? Or was it my devilishly handsome good looks?" He cocks you that lopsided grin and you roll your eyes.

"You're unbelievable. Do you do this to everyone you tie up out there?"

"Most of 'em don't sneak backstage to find me after the show." Well, fuck, he's got you there.

Your jaw flaps stupidly, uselessly, as your brain fails to connect with any words. "I was just... It was..."

"All of the above then," he laughs. You roll your eyes and bite back a smile - he's got you beat. There's no denying that everything about the man set you on fire, scorching you from the inside out.

"Really I just wanted to... thank you. For the great show. You were incredible. Thanks for picking me to be your damsel."

"Oh, I don't get to pick, sugar." The initial disappointment at finding out he didn't pick you fades quickly. "But I do always like when they pick the pretty ones. Gives me something nice to look at. Something good to think about later, after the show." He doesn't need to say it for you to know exactly what he's talking about.

You consider your next move for barely a second - you'd come to thank him, get his number and maybe askin him for a drink, but now is your chance for something more - before taking a step forward, sliding a hand up his jacket to feign brushing something from his lapel. "That's a shame."

"A shame?"

"A shame that you have to wait until later."

His face lights up, a grin tugging at his lips once more. You're fixated on his plushness of them, watching as they form around each word. "Oh, trust me sugar, I'm thinkin' all sorta things right now."

"Thinkin' and actin' are different things entirely, cowboy."

"Is that what you want," he whispers in your ear as he ghosts a hand down the side of your arm, letting it rest softly on your hip. "You want me to act on all these thoughts?"

"Wouldn't be here if I didn't."

His lips capture yours, hands pulling your hips flush with his while mouth moves against your own. There's no push and pull, no fight, just pure pressure of you both trying to sink yourselves into the one another. You swipe your tongue against his bottom lip, dipping in and tasting the honey sweet softness of his mouth.

You pay the crew no mind - with how the man flirts they've probably seen this before. You're just another in a long list of faces that have found themselves attached to his.

"Ain't got much time 'til the next show," he pants as you still try to lick into his mouth. "If you want what I think you want, we gotta be quick about it." You nod, moaning as his hands explore the plains of your body, massaging your hips one moment, drawing blunt nails down your back the next before bunching your dress against your ass in one large fist.

"You're god damn gorgeous," he whispers, grabbing you around the waist once again and pulling you toward him. He stumbles, moving out from the shadowy place you'd occupied by the tent wall. You expect a quick getaway to a trailer, or a secluded part of the backstage, but your ass quickly collides with something solid.

"Wha-" you say, looking around to the spot he's dragged you. It's more brightly lit than where you were standing before, more exposed. He has you pushed against a barrel, legs parted so he can slot between them.

"Privacy is a luxury of time, sugar, and we got neither. Just say the word and I'll stop."

Saying nothing, you grab his belt, the large buckle glinting in the lamp-light, and tug him toward you claiming his mouth once more. You can be sneaky like this, you think, he can slip inside you as you wrap your legs around him, your skirt covering most of you.

It seems Jack has other ideas.

He spins you around, pushing you firmly against the barrel, the stiffness in his tailored pants pushing against the swell of your ass. His hands snake around you, like the rope had earlier, and grope at the pillowy soft tissue of your chest. People are still milling around, walking past and setting up for the next show, paying you no mind as he fondles you. His face nuzzles into your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there. You're about to let your head lull back to his shoulder when his hands move from your breasts and push down on your shoulders.

"Oof."

The air is pushed from you with a huff as he bends you over the edge of the barrel, the rim biting into your belly as you hinge over it. He wastes no time in flipping up the edge of your skirt, bunching it at your waist and dragging his hands down over the globes of your ass.

"Think you're wet enough for me to stick it in?" he mumbles into your ear as he rubs at the damp crotch of your panties from behind. You moan into your arm. You'd been wet for most of the show, and he was about to find out.

Before you know it he's rounded on you and is pulling his cock out from his pants, giving you no time to answer. His cock stands stark and heavy, yet even as flushed and full as it is, it looks pale in contrast with the black of his pants and the bright red frame of his jacket. You salivate - wet definitely won't be a problem.

Someone runs past that moment, pulling you sharply you out of it. You're here, bent over a barrel with your dress flipped up, panty-clad ass on display, and cock hanging dangerously close to your face.

What the fuck are you doing.

A light tap on your cheek with the tip of his cock brings you back to him, a sticky drop of precum stringing between the two of you as he brings his cock closer to your lips.

You look up at him, his face shadowed by the brim of his hat.

"Don't pay them no mind, they seen it all," he says, swiping the side of his cock along the seam of your mouth. That's all the reassurance you need to stick out your tongue - the voice that told you you needed to get laid soon preening at the idea of it being here and now. The saliva that had been pooling in your mouth at the sight of it just moments ago works wonders, slicking up his length as he slides it across your tongue, drool seeping from your mouth and dripping down your tongue to fall in wet droplets to the dusty floor below. He teases his tip past your tongue, smiling fondly as you try to capture it in you mouth and suck him in with each swipe.

"That's it, get it wet. Give it some sugar, sugar."

You finally give in, grabbing his slicked length in your fist and pulling the tip into you mouth, sucking on it and swirling your tongue all around his ridge, tasting the precum your spit slicked tongue had already pulled from him. His head falls back as he groans, holding his hat to his head with his palm. You work over him, revelling in his moans as much as he'd revelled in the audiences applause, sliding your lips and hand up and down his cock.

"You're a wild one, ain't you?" he says, looking at you with the same awed expression you'd had plastered on your face during his performance. You suck on his tip one last time, releasing from your tingling lips with a soft pop.

"Uh-huh."

And his lips are back on yours, plundering your mouth, not minding that his own taste is on your tongue, a broad hand smoothing down your back to palm your ass once again. Your hand on his cock tugs, and he gasps into your mouth, a small needy thing that sends wetness trickling into your panties.

"Please," you whisper into his mouth. "Put it in me."

"Yes ma'am," he whispers, cursing as he steps behind you to tug down your panties.

He licks his fingers before swiping his spit slicked digits through your folds. Your hips twitch when they glide back and forth over your clit, before sinking into your pussy with ease. He removes them just as quick, rutting his slicked dick against your pussy instead.

"Damn, darlin', you're soaked."

The head of his spit slicked cock rubs through your glossy folds, teasing over your clit and dipping into your entrance.

"Think you can take it all in one, sugar? Ain't got much time to be wastin' here."

"Give it to me," you pant, pushing your hips back in a desperate attempt to find the tip of his cock again and draw it into you.

You don't need to wait long until he's pushing forward into you again, parting your slick walls with ease and burrowing deep into you. Maybe it had just been so damn long or maybe he was just so damn enchanting, but you never wanted this moment to stop. You're never leaving this god damn barrel. You want to take up home here and let him take root deep inside you.

You were a mess before he pushed into you, and now you're worse, sopping wet and creaming all over his cock as he slides in and out of you, his cock dragging against every ridge and bump inside of you with ease.

"Gonna make a mess of my pants, sugar. Costumin' ain't gonna be best pleased with me but, damn, if this pussy don't just feel too good to give up."

Tinkling organ music starts up as the next audience filters in to the main tent, you can hear the low hum of their voices, excited and eager for the upcoming show. You bite back a whine, the idea of him wearing your mess for an entire show, in front of that audience, too much to bear.

"Think you can come on my cock?" he whispers, draping his body over you as his fingers graze over your clit. The simple action already has you twitching, drenching his cock in yet more slick as he grinds slow and deep into you. You nod. Even with the crew around you, frantically rushing to reorganize props before the next show, you don't think you'll have a problem.

"That's it, gotta be quick now. Shit. You're nearly there already. Got your panties in such a twist you were ready to cream 'em."

You bite into your arm, moaning as his fingers quicken over your slick, engorged nub. His cock is dragging deep now, barely moving as he rocks his hips in the same slow rhythm.

A group of people begin hauling props to a side entrance ahead. You keep your eyes locked on them, their busy hands lifting and moving everything ready for the next performance. Jack's fingers are relentless, and you come undone with a silent scream around his cock, eyes still locked on the strangers in front of you. When your twitches fade, you fall limp against the barrel, Jack pressing a kiss to your neck now damp with your sweat.

"How about that, su-"

"Whiskey!" a voice shouts from nearby, and you jolt up, delirious and cock drunk, Jack's dick still lodged deep inside you. Shit.

Jack pulls back, uncovering you to the people around, people who had been drawn to look at you by the sudden noise. There had been no shame in it before, but now the horny haze was lifting, embarrassment was threatening you, heat flaring in your cheeks.

"Don't shy away from me now, sugar." It wasn't him that was the problem, it was the many people in the bustling backstage that were making you nervous. They paid you no mind before, but now the minutes were ticking down until showtime, they were all looking over, almost expectant, to see if and when their ringmaster would be finished.

"Got five minutes. Wrap this up," you look shyly over your shoulder at a tattoo'd man standing uncomfortably close. Jack keeps rocking into you, grinding deep and slow as he talks to the man.

"Just gonna empty my balls and I'll be right there," he says, so at ease he could have been talking about the weather. The tattoo'd man rolls his eyes, stepping away to start hauling out set pieces for the upcoming show.

"You gonna take it, sugar?"

You take one look at the tattoo'd man - he's still so near, he'd be able to hear everything. Swallowing, you look back at Jack and nod.

"Yeah. I want it."

"Then lemme hear those pretty sounds," and he picks up the pace, hips snapping into yours as you look around at him, eyes locked on him now that he was so ready to blow. Everyone else fizzles away, lost in the dust and low-light. The pounding in your ears and the pounding in your cunt in sync blurs out all other sound, the smell of him still so stark in your nose, even amongst the smell of dirt and cotton candy. A soft moan is all that escapes you, your breaths still ragged from your own orgasm as adrenalin races through you.

Pressure builds in you again. You won't, can't, come again so soon, but fuck if it doesn't feel so good. Large hands grip roughly at the meat of your ass, pulling you back onto him. With every bounce against his pelvis, you feel a deep moan bubbling to the surface until every thrust has a small shriek ripping from your lips.

"Ff- Jack. Oh, Jack."

"That's it. Gonna blow. You ready for it?"

"Yes, yes. Please," you pant, pushing your hips back to meet his every thrust, taking him in so deep you'll be feeling him in your bones for weeks. The harder he fucks, the louder the moans that tear from your throat, earning you looks that go unnoticed from the cast and crew that have gathered to start the show.

He stutters, his hips stilling for a second before shallowly thrusting into you. He lets out a deep groan, lowing soft and long as he releases inside you. You can feel it, the warmth of it seeping through you, drenching your pussy until it's sopping wet.

"Well if I couldn't just get lost in there for days," he murmurs, looking at you with a soft crinkle eyed smile. He bends to kiss you, his cock slipping from you as it quickly softens.

Pulling a handkerchief from an inside pocket, he wipes at the front of his pants, removing as much of your residue from him as he can as you stand, hoisting your panties back up around your hips and flipping down your dress.

"Look even more gorgeous fucked out, sugar. I'll be sad to see this pretty face go." He pulls you in to kiss you, lingering for a fraction before pulling back.

"I bet you say that to all the girls," you say softly, stroking the side of his face and smoothing down a flick in his moustache. His hat has not left his head.

"N - "

"It's showtime people, place please," a voice booms, hands clapping together harshly to get the attention of the crew. Shit.

You don't hide your disappointment, stepping away from Jack to let him get back to work. His whip and lasso are nowhere to be seen, and he still needs to grab them before the show starts. The moment is over, and so is your dry spell, you think, mentally preparing for the walk back to your car.

He's softly tugging you toward him before you can get too far.

"Now... I don't do private shows, but if you stick around, I wouldn't mind a repeat performance."

You can't help the grin that spreads across your face, and neither can he. "I'd like that, cowboy."

You wait, sitting on the barrel he'd fucked you over, stealing kisses between acts, watching as he adjust his pants to hide his stiff cock from the crowd, waiting patiently for another round with your ringmaster.

One day in the not too distant future, after months of travelling, belly heavy and feet swollen, you'll sit at a table laden with food, surrounded by your chosen family, telling the story of how your not-quite-nephews inadvertantly introduced you to the love of your life, the ringmaster in the cowboy hat.

When dinner is finished, you'll stand in the crisp air of the backyard, grateful for the off-season and a chance to settle before the chaos really begins. Large hands will wind around you, just as that rope did many moons ago, gently lifting your belly as a kiss is placed to your cheek.

"You didn't tell 'em the whole story," he'll whisper, placing his cowboy hat on the table.

"Mm, that is a story best kept just between you and me."

"And a few dozen people." You'll laugh into the chill air, clouds of white puffing from your mouth, the memory of the night that started it all so fresh in your mind. You'll turn and look at him fondly, stealing his cowboy hat and placing it on your own head.

"And a few dozen people."

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#jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x you #jack daniels x f!reader #whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x female reader #kingsman fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #jack whiskey daniels #fic: carnal-val #coveted fics

[alastorslittledoe]

Stay With Me

|| Vox smut ||

You have returned after a few days at the Hazbin Hotel, gathering information for the Vee’s. Vox is incredibly pent up from the wait.

|| This is an exert from my Alastor x Reader (contrary to the smut w/ Vox lmfao) fic on wattpad! ||

|| Link if you wanna read: https://www.wattpad.com/story/364068325?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details&wp_uname=pastelkitty69 ||

Tags: daddy kink, Vox being rough, blowjob, dom Vox, fem reader

***

"So, dollface, tell me" Vox taps his claws against his desk, leaning back to look at you "what have you learned from that shithole?"

"Vox" you roll your eyes "I haven't even been there two days, and I spent last night drunk off my ass" you decided to leave out the parts that involved the Radio Demon.

"Well that's not really a fucking help, is it?" He snaps "God, I sent you there to be fucking useful, Y/N, not get all pally with the shitheads"

You smirk "I wouldn't let Val hear you say that, it was with Angel"

"I don't give a SHIT who you were with" he takes a long stride to you, grabbing your jaw harshly and tilting your face up to him "I need information"

"Okay! Okay" You attempt to swat his hand away. It doesn't work.

"Fine" You breathe heavily "I'm roomed next to Alastor. If he does anything, I'll be the first to know, V"

He stares at you for a long moment before releasing you, your head twists to the side from the force. You rub your jaw, eyeing him.

"That's...good...we can work with that" He nods thoughtfully, a small loading circle in the corner of his screen "yeah, that's really fuckin good"

You smile. You hated that his praise meant so much to you.

"Yeah, Voxy, I got you" You wink "Don't be so stressy" you saunter over to him and gently place your hands on his shoulders, starting to massage them cautiously.

He lets out a quiet sigh and leans back into your touch.

Gotcha.

You slowly lean forward, leaving a pepper trail of kisses down his neck, mumbling between kisses "Were you worried I was leaving you for them?"

He stiffens slightly. Maybe you'd pushed it too far. But then he says, quietly "Perhaps"

That you didn't expect. Vox never showed any appreciation for you, except for in bed.

"Well" you swallow, about to tell the biggest lie you'd told during your stay in hell thus far "I'd never leave you, I promise"

A carnal growl escapes him and he whips around to face you, quickly capturing your lips on his. You always think it best...not to think about the technicalities of kissing Vox. There was no possible way to explain how his lips felt so real behind that screen. And he was incredible at it.

He leads you backward between kisses until you reach his bed.

"You're mine" he growls, shoving you down.

You bounce as you hit the soft surface, smirking up at him "Prove it"

He crawls onto the bed and pushes your legs apart, slotting himself between and staring down at you with those glowing red eyes.

He grabs the neckline of your top with both hands and rips it in half, chucking the stray fabric aside.

"Did I ever tell you...your tits are so fucking gorgeous, dollface" He murmurs, leaning down and nipping harshly at one of your buds. You gasp, back arching into him. You could already feel his pants straining against you.

"Fuck...Vox" You mumble needily

He smirks against your breast. He loved when you said his name. It was akin to a drug for him. Which is exactly why he couldn't have you moaning it too often. Vox had no idea why he liked you, and he tried his best to not like you, actually. Considering you technically belonged to Val. But by god, did he enjoy the moments where you were sprawled out bare for him.

He pulls back and stares down at you, your perked nipples and flushed face. Fuck it. He didn't need to be inside you yet. But he did need his cock inside that pretty mouth of yours.

Vox grabs your hips and yanks you backward as he zips into a nearby camera, you fall onto the floor clumsily, gasping and looking around nervously. Vox appears a moment later across the room, shirtless, strolling over and slowly unbuckling his belt, chuckling

"My apologies, doll, did that hurt?"

"No, sir" your bright eyes blink up at him, mouth almost drooling as slowly unzips his pants. He meets you, standing over you with a smirk. You knew calling him that drove him insane.

"Well?" he drawls "Get my cock out. And suck"

You feel the slick between your thighs and close them tightly as you move to your haunches, fiddling somewhat clumsily with his zipper. He would never admit it to anyone, but he found it oddly alluring that he knew you were extremely skilled in the bedroom and yet, when it came to the real thing, it was almost innocent.

You finally lowered his pants enough for his cock to spring out. You weren't ashamed to admit you had been pleasantly surprised the first time. You had expected, well...average. Surely a man with such a large ego didn't deserve a massive dick too, right? Wrong. You were so. Fucking. Wrong.

You took his cock in your hand and gave it a few cautious pumps, watching the pre-cum leak from the tip, you giggle playfully, batting your eyes at him and giving it a small kiss.

He groans "Doll..."

A warning.

He grabs your jaw and traces your bottom lip with a blue claw, then slowly, gently, presses it into your mouth. You suck it eagerly. When you open your mouth as he drags it back out, he takes the opportunity and rams his cock deep into your throat. You gag immediately, tears springing into your eyes.

"Good girl" he smirks, cooing "that's it, take daddy's cock"

Now that was new.

You adjust and begin to bob your head, going at a steady pace. Vox groans, you never go quite deep enough to satiate him. He grabs a fistful of your hair, a makeshift ponytail in his hand

"Enough of that, doll" He shoves you down onto his cock once more, ready to cum at the moan that erupts from you around his dick.  He lets himself engulf in the pleasure of your throat, wet, and all his. He waits until you grab at his thigh, clawing for air, before releasing you.

You gasp for air and fall back as he lets you go, a few stray tears slipping down your face. Oh fuck, was he turned on by that sight.

He grabs you and easily throws you back onto the bed, quickly ridding himself of his pants completely and making quick work of tearing your skirt to shreds.

You gulp as he positions himself between your thighs once more "You owe me a new outfit, Vox" you joke breathlessly.

He pauses "What" his screen glitches, eyes turning hypnotic "did you call me, doll?"

You bite your lip "Sorry, daddy"

He nods, pleased, then grabs your hips, yanking you towards him, roughly slamming his cock into you, not even giving you a moments notice. You gasp, a strangled moan escaping as you throw your head back into the sheets.

"Jesus...fuck"

After his initial entrance he continues at an agonisingly slow pace.

"Mmf" You grit your teeth, attempting to move onto your elbows "Vo-" he cuts you off with another sharp thrust. Now you were getting antsy, gritting your teeth "faster"

He raises an eyebrow, chuckling "sorry, doll, who told you YOU were in charge here? If you want me to go faster" He pauses, a painfully slow thrust "beg.”

You clamp your mouth shut.

He takes this as a challenge and presses a claw gently onto your clit, moving in slow circles. Your position on your elbows doesn't last long and you collapse once more, panting in need.

"For fucks sake" you breathe "fucking please, PLEASE, fuck me, I'm begging" 

"That's a good little slut" He grins, showing a row of sharp teeth on his screen and grabs an ankle and places it onto his shoulder. He gives you a last, devastating look before speeding up his pace.

"Oh- f...nugh...too much-" You choke out

"You" he grunts "chose this."

He was right, of course.

Your mouth falls open in a silent moan as he resumes the assault on your clit with his claws. The coil in your stomach builds until Vox can feel you, so tightly pressed against his dick he can barely slide in and out of you.

"That's it, dollface" he growls "cum for me"

You cry out as a wave of pleasure rakes through you, your vision temporarily going black as your body convulses against him. Vox groans, an animalistic sound ripping through him as his own orgasm barrels through him, screen glitching in his euphoria. His hips stutter against you as he fills you.

Your leg falls from his shoulder and he collapses onto you, panting hotly.

"Good job, doll" he murmurs against your skin, planting a kiss on one of your breasts before slowly regaining his composure and rising from the bed. You attempt to catch your breath, slowly sitting up.

This was the part you hated, the insecurity that washed over you in sickening waves after being with Vox. Most of the time, he rejected your advances, but then there were times like this that you could count on one hand. The times where he accepted and ruined you so fucking well.

He clears his throat, grabbing his pants from the floor and quickly slipping them on "I'll let Val know you won't be shooting today"

The one blessing whenever Vox took you, he at least had the decency to delay your next set.

You nod, attempting to smile prettily with your fucked out eyes "Thanks, Voxy"

He nods "Oh, doll?"

"Hm?"

"Don't take too long in that shitty hotel. When you're back I want you here"

You tilt your head "I'm always here?"

He glances back at you before he reaches his door "I want you here. In this room. With me"

And with that he left you alone. Uncomfortable and feeling used, as per usual. But staying here, with him? That was new. You had no doubt there was an ulterior motive.

Two days ago that would've set your heart so painfully aflutter it would be physically unbearable. And yet, you couldn't help your mind drifting to the demon you decidedly hated. The one that made your skin crawl and bones ache with your few encounters.

You shake your head.

Well, at least Vox had fucked the hangover away.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel vox smut #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin vaggie #hazbin lucifer #hazbin smut #hazbin spoilers #hazbin husk #hazbin charlie #smut #vox smut #alastor x reader #vox x reader

[russilton]

Im new here and i must say that ur blog is a treasure to me (no dramatic). I enjoy ur postings a lot and I admire you sooo much!

It's a fascinating ship BUT sadly not a lot of people have realized this point i may say. and Im wondering when did you start to ship them? (cuz u know, the No1 gewis fan i may say? lol). Like when george came to merc? or even before? or it's like some special moments and everything suddenly clicks?

(feel free to ignore this if you don't wanna answer(but im lookin forward to it 😜)

Well anon you got me blushing at 10am, thank you very much

Wildly, I can give you the exact moment I started shipping it, because I documented it on discord.

See I’d sent @thatsmemate a gif of Bono earlier that day while explaining f1 to her, and she’d said Lewis and Bono looked like they were carnally in love, which to be fair in that gif they absolutely did. Then she went to bed, and I, a man with the flu and access to an ao3 account, did what any normal person does, and went “huh I wonder if there’s fic about Lewis on ao3”

And there sure was (fic is censored because I didn’t end up personally enjoying it but that’s not the authors fault, I just didn’t vibe with top George)

As we can all guess, it did indeed open Pandora’s box, because nobody reads just one fic when they’re sick.

I do truly wonder had my first f1 rpf fic been sewis or galex if I’d be here now- I really don’t know! I can explain to you all the reasons gewis is so vibrant and important and meaningful to me, but I also know I imprint like a duck, and it may have been the fact that it was the first fic I read and I went “well, this is awesome, I would like more” and then when I tried other ships it just… didn’t do anything for me? I mean I was well aware of and still follow the sewis sub reddit but never felt inclined to the fic ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (I also blame @hamiltvn and @danielssmile for having posted fics that knocked me on my ass when I started reading gewis , like can’t argue with quality)

Whatever it was, it clicked with me, and while I tried to go “this is weird they’re real people we can’t read this” I just… kept going back all while watching the races. I’d already gotten SO fond of George at Merc as it was, I was a fan of his before he signed with them, and while I was sad when he was signed over Val, I was also excited as all hell. Val seemed like Merc was taking a huge toll on him, and George was so silly but incredibly committed.

I can also give you the moment it clicked. I was on IG, recommended to me between races, Merc had posted a clip of Lewis interrupting George’s Australia interview to hug him, and George’s face just… wobbles. When he comes back to the interview his lip quivers and he has to take a breath, he looks happy but so very ready to cry… that was it for me, I just sat there and though oh, you adore him, of course you do.

I have shown this clip to so many gewis people who do not feel the same way about it I do, which is fascinating but I spose we can’t decide what our spark is can we? This was just it for me, and it’s only gotten worse seeing George flourish as his own person, he’s not just… chasing Lewis now, but valued as his own person, WHILE still putting Lewis at the centre of his focus and admiration. He’s no longer standing within a shadow- he’s growing out of it while remaining firmly rooted in that emotion of respect.

AND Lewis gives it back hand over fist the more he describes George as the push that helps keep him driving, the more he sees George as an almost equal

I only get more in love with them, even if they frustrate me and their team frustrate me and their fans… sure are loud. They bring me joy.

#asks #anonymous #mark talks Britcedes #I think I’ve told this story before but I’m one of those old people

[corazondebeskar-reads]

Fic Recs - Other

Fic recs featuring media other than Star Wars and The Last of Us.

Key: 🏴 = dark, 💕 = fluff, ⛓ = rough/bdsm elements, 💀 = dead dove do not eat

Mind the warnings, and please read responsibly. you control your own media consumption.

All Fic Recs

Jack "Whiskey" Daniels - "Kingsman: The Golden Circle"

it tastes like acid by @psychedelic-ink (oneshot)

summary: he came by every wednesday to ask for your services, he's a broken man, you can tell. however, you didn't expect him to break you in return.

Dieter Bravo - "The Bubble"

Celestial Navigation by @write-and-buried (series, complete)

summary: dumped and drowning in a summer storm, you duck inside a coffee shop to hide from your broken heart. Covered in plants and hand drawn images over exposed brick, it seems like a slice of heaven. The owner brings you a blueberry muffin and a promise; you’ll fall in love with him before the new year.

Red Herring by @nothoughtsjustmeds (one-shot)

summary: red herring (n.): an unimportant fact, idea, event, etc. that takes people's attention away from something important.

Dave York - "The Equalizer 2"

⛓🏴The Violence of You by @whataperfectwasteoftime (oneshot)

summary: You’re so fucking predictable. You have a bad night, and you come crawling to him, the only person who can take all this pain inside you and do something with it.

Black Jaguar by @oogaboogasphincter (one-shot)

summary: dave returns home from a job and can’t wait to indulge in you.

⛓ the dress series by @janaispunk (ongoing)

summary: You’re having an affair with Dave York. When he takes you on a week-long vacation, you realize that you have deeper feelings for him than you should.

⛓ Penance by @max--phillips (one-shot)

summary: dom!dave and boot worship

Ezra - "Prospect"

⛓B is for Bathroom Control by @max--phillips (oneshot)

pro-dom Ezra and piss play

I Forget About Time and Space by @psychedelic-ink (oneshot)

summary: you cook for ezra's guests, and seeing the sight of you being so domestic awakens something in him.

⛓ Plaited and Braided by @bonezone44

summary: Ezra gets a hold of a supersonic whip (aka bullwhip) and tries it out on you. There’s aftercare and then there’s sex.

Francisco "Frankie" Morales - "Triple Frontier"

🏴⛓ A Little Mishap by @lincolndjarin (oneshot)

summary: you and frankie return to base camp after an unsuccessful mission, each of you blaming the other for the outcome.

Miguel O'Hara (Spider-Verse)

distracted by @cool-iguana

summary: reader is sick of Miguel playing video games and not giving her attention, so she does something about it.

Max Phillips - "Bloodsucking Bastards"

i wanna do bad things with you by @chronically-ghosted (series; ongoing)

summary: you ask him to bite you, but he has some reservations. you agree to work up to it and test his limits.

Javier Peña - "Narcos"

Paranoid Heart by @goodwithcheese (ongoing)

summary: Maybe reckless hearts come in pairs.

Moon Knight

⛓ Be Lost by @juneknight (series; ongoing)

Marc Spector

summary: after a series of failures to find a dominant, your long time best friend Marc offers to give topping you a shot.

Crossovers

Welcome to the Carnal-val by @covetyou

ft. Dieter Bravo & Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels

summary: Ladies and gentlefolk, adults of all ages, come one, come all, to the Carnal-val. Witness the most spectacular sights, jaw-dropping feats of depravity, and awe-inspiring liberties taken with Pedro characters.

#fic rec #dave york fic #dieter bravo fic #jack whiskey daniels fic #other media fic recs #for the record #I don't go here #the only movie on this list I've seen is the bubble #these authors are just all so good that I'm willing to read anything they write #so go read everything they write

[far-eviler]

Hi Val, just saying I'm obsessed with your rune work in the shadowhunter chronicles and I would like too know more about what the runes mean and do, especially the ones that aren't talked about as much in the series. (like the abundance rune) I'm in the middle of making my own gray book and if you could help me out with the meaning of the runes it would be a huge help. Thx

Hello Anon! I truly appreciate the shared obsession. Creating, sharing runework and tattoo designs have been one of the more fulfilling things in my career. So, thanks for sharing that w/ me. (ღ˘⌣˘ღ)

In truth, I have a literal tiny handheld Gray Book of my own that carries a carnal alphabet I use (with broken down origin glyphs). It is a godsend. Whenever a new challenge comes around I whip that out and re-read it to lay groundwork. I've made too many Runes at home to actually fit into any singular book (mostly rejected designs btw). So, good luck with your version, I'm utterly fascinated to know how it goes. Lemme know!

When you say ones that "aren't talked about as much" I think it's more nuanced than that. There were some that were deliberately designed/requested/highlighted like "Fearless" and others that weren't like "Courage in Combat", whereas the later means vastly more to me personally. How two things can seem so alike but actually mean v different things idk. If you were writing lit, fic or theory you can go forever on just that! But then that's art isn't it?

If you're asking directly about "Abundance"... hmm? it's been a while. Let's look at my notes. While the literal spelling is "Abundance" what I've got translated from the glyphs used is 'being Present'. So, it's less "Abundance" of riches but more like a proficiency in Passive Perception. Does that make a little more sense? See, this shit is hella nuanced! (I did put synonymous titles for Runes names that were a bit... sparse, pre se. But they're on my uploads and weren't often on other sites or maintained when the publishers printed it. This is why source materiel is best material.) I go into loads of notes on DA, feel free to poke around.

BUT when it's your Gray Book , your notes, you do you. Answer to no one. Feel free to ask me whatever but still answer to no one. It's your grimoire, go nuts!

#val freire #Questions #Answers #Shadowhunters #Shadowhunter Runes #The Shadowhunter Chronicles #Q #A #Rune Tattoo #Tattoo Design

[grrmartin]

I love all the Starks and once tried reading Jon/rya fics. Don't know why. Maybe to overcome the "delusion" I was sensing regarding Jonsa and to see how Jon and Arya's close bond can be translated to romance. Boy, was I wrong. Both Jon and Arya were so ooc and cringe worthy, I couldn't for the life of me imagine something like this happening in books. Not to mention the Sansa bashing. The neutral Sansa was the low key bashed Sansa or the Sansa who asks forgiveness from Arya for being a "bully" and "betraying" her family. And Arya being her benevolent self forgives her. All in all, I concluded that there is not much potential or foreshadowing for Jon/rya. What would both of them gain from the relationship? They have the purest, highest quality dynamic, with utmost love and validation. Carnal thoughts would only lower the quality, and there would be nothing healthy to gain and balance it. Contrast it with Jon/Sansa, where both sort of disregard what the other represents. Both have something to learn and gain from the other, so that their relationship remains in between uncomfortable and likable. Sansa will give Jon the validation he so wants and Jon will learn to appreciate and positively interact with ladies. Another major aspect is physical attraction! Which is needed for a romance. You know what physical attraction is based on? Physical features. Both Jon and Sansa have shown an attraction towards people who look like the other. Arya had sort of a crush on Gendry, who is physically very different from Jon. Jon was attracted to Ygritte's hair and Val's classic features, which are similar to Sansa not Arya.

I’m totally on board!! I mean here I am, a convinced jonsa truther.

I actually do love Canon Arya and I don’t think there’s a single decent guy in all of book canon to ship her with. Every guy introduced would hold her back. Gendry bores me. I think canon shows he bores Arya. The attitudes in Westeros are gross. @starkmaiden came up with the perfect OC match for Sansa. Rickard Forrester. (Who me and @jade-masquerade proceeded to butcher but that’s a story for a different time).

I think a perfect OC boyfriend for Arya needs to be made to go along with Rickard. I’m thinking it’s an adventurer who is as obsessed with her as exploring new places. He’s hot, but he’s an intellectual too. He likes mapping things. He’s Bravosi and Dornish mixed, and has a lot of radical ideas. He’s even more of a radical than Arya. He’s poor but well educated. He rose to the position of ship captain through merit. His arms are huge from rowing. We know Arya is attracted to muscles. But he’s also good with a sword. He has an amazing family, and they treat Arya like their own daughter. Arya doesn’t want to marry, and he doesn’t mind. He’s an adventurer and is always on the go, exploring, and he’s happy to have his woman beside him.

Arya writes him off at first. She doesn’t trust easily. But he is good in a crisis, and that’s like, really sexy!! She’s so used to being around incompetent men. Finally... someone on her level.

Unlike with Gendry, she’s actually nervous about seducing him. With him she never felt like it would be hard to get him on his back. And if he rejected her, it wouldn’t have stung. He was just the dumb bull. But this guy? He actually makes her feel nervous.

He’s an equal. He wants the same things she does. They have chemistry.

There. I just came up with a better ship than jonry@. It took like five minutes.

#asks #anti jonrya

[covetyou]

send in the clown

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Dieter Bravo x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: clowns, dubcon, unprotected P in V, anal play, grinding, titty play (clown motorboating), drug use, hotboxing, the shoes stay on, unconventional use of grease paint word count: 4.1k summary: You lose your scarf on a visit to the carnival. Send in Dieter Bravo - washed up actor turned circus clown.

A/N: Happy Halloweekend, friends! Originally this was going to be some dark evil fic with a murderous clown and some non-con, but basically I can't do that. So here you have washed up actor clown Dieter instead, and he's going to rock your world. You're welcome.

This is not inherently scary, but probably something to avoid if you really hate clowns. It's essentially just clown porn. I'm not sorry.

10 points to anyone who can spot the Oscar.

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future work

Want Dieter at the carnival, but don't want the clowns? Check out Candy by @secretelephanttattoo

Loud noises and knives and fire and bodies bent into strange shapes.

It sounded more like a horror movie down on paper, but the lights and music were dazzling, amazing, turning something terrifying into something beautiful.

You sipped too sweet drinks and munched on overpriced snacks as you watched on with your friends, laughing and gasping with them as the sights before you unfolded. A tiny woman bending herself over backwards, shooting apples off of people's heads with a bow and arrow clenched in her delicate feet. A couple swinging through the air, no wire in sight, fabric fluttering along behind them as they flew. Sword swallowers, fire breathers, acrobats, magicians, clowns.

Clowns.

You were mesmerized by it all, taken in so completely, that when you all stumbled out after several hours and made your way home, you didn't even notice you'd left your scarf until you moved to pull it off as you stepped in your front door. They weren't in town for long, things like this never were, so you turn around and head back to your car, driving back the way you came until the big top comes back into view.

It had been almost an hour since you left and the parking lot was mostly empty now, save for a few cars closer to the entrance. The sign was no longer illuminated, but lights shone brightly from inside the gate as a handful of people bustled around, packing up for the night.

You make your way to the ticket booth, spotting a grizzly old man with a toothpick between his teeth closing up, pulling a small box filled with ticket stubs and loose change out from the desk.

"We're closed," he grumbles, not bothering to look at you as he turns the key, locking the booth, and stomps away.

"I know," you shout, feet squelching in a wet patch of grass as you stumble after him. "I lost something, left it here. Do you have a lost and found?"

He stops, eyes you up, then sends you inside, directing you to an open sided tent. You walk in semi-darkness, listening out for the shouts and jokes of the cast and crew ending their day.

Two people sit there, feet up on a box and cards in hand. One has a threadbare sweater thrown on over a skimpy lyrca outfit adorned in sequins, the other looks like he could have been in the audience if it wasn't for the peak of tattoos from the top of his hoodie and across his hands.

They don't notice you standing there, so you clear your throat. Sequins is just about to play a card, but halts mid way through the movement and looks up, raising his painted on eyebrows at you.

"We're closed," Tattoos repeats, not bothering to turn to look your way.

"I lost a scarf. Was told to come here," you explain. You just want your scarf back.

Sequins slaps the card down on the box then sits back, eyeing you up and down just as the grizzled old man did, crossing his toned arms over his chest. "What's it look like?"

"Woolen, red and brown kind of checks. It's pretty big, almost like a blanket?"

Tattoos scoffs, finally turning to look at you. "Oh yeah, that one. Bravo the Clown took it. No one ever comes back for shit they lose at the circus, toots. If you want it back you're gonna have to go ask him."

"Okay, and where can I find this Bravo the Clown."

They send you off to a trailer on the other side of the camp. You hear their laughter as you turn your back and walk away, squelching back through patches of wet grass that hadn't been boarded over.

The trailer is worn and old, a colorful tarp covering the front window and stapled into the ground. "Bravo" is scrawled on the door in sharpie, scribbles of other color around it so it looks like the name has exploded from the door. There's a faint light from inside, and you can hear music playing, but there's no answer when you knock.

You try the handle, the door opening a crack before jamming. You tug harder, and the door swings open, nearly knocking you down onto the wet ground.

Smoke billows out. You almost think there's a fire when you smell something earthy and herbal. Definitely not a fire.

You call out over the music, a repetitive carnival jingle, and when there's no response, you climb up the few steps and step foot into the trailer of Bravo the Clown.

It's dark inside, the smoke barely cleared and the tarp masking any light from outside in a red haze. The herbal stench in the air is thicker inside, covering the stale musky smell of sweat and dust.

When your eyes adjust to the dark through the haze of smoke, you see the place is a mess. Wigs of all shapes and colors are thrown haphazardly onto a crooked shelf on the wall, something shiny hidden behind a puff of rainbows. Shoes litter the walkway, and clothes and costume pieces are strewn over a bench seat. There's a patch where it looks like someone has been sitting, and next to it, your scarf, screwed tight into a messy ball and pushed down into the rest of the clothing.

You approach, going to grab your scarf and leave, when you're distracted by a long mirror sitting to one side, a worn chair in front of it. There's a vanity where brushes and pallettes are thrown, pots of grease paint left open and discarded.

You drag your fingers across the worn wooden vanity. Picking up one pot of paint - a vibrant white - you are moments from swiping your finger across the pristine surface when a gruff voice startles you.

"What the fuck?!"

You spin, paint falling from your hand and clattering to the ground. Stood there is a half man, half clown, joint perched between his lips, makeup smudged over his face. His hair is sweaty, sticking up at all angles, wig nowhere to be seen. You cast your eyes down him. An oversized striped shirt is pulled open, graying undershirt beneath on show, sweat stains at the armpits and a wet patch on the hem. His red pants are unbuttoned, slung low on his hips, his suspenders unclipped at the front and hanging down low behind him. Large shoes jut out from the bottoms, bulbous and curving slightly upward.

"What the fuck are you doin' in here," he says from around the joint, throwing his hands up in the air.

You stumble over your words, stuttering a few times before you can spit it out. He looks at you like you're stupid, like you're the one with paint smeared over your face.

"I- I lost my scarf. They said you had it, I'm sorry, I-"

"What? Do you think breaking and entering is okay because I'm a fuckin' clown," he yells, pulling the door closed and slamming it hard when it gets jammed again.

He stalks toward you, blowing a puff of smoke into your face, making your eyes water, before he flops down into the worn chair in front of the vanity. It creaks as he stretches back, the tip of one of his too big shoes running up your leg.

"Do you think stealing is okay because you're a clown?" you retort, hands on your hips, shaking your head in disbelief. You never pictured your evening ending in an argument with a half-dressed clown.

More smoke puffs from his mouth as he laughs at you, face contorting strangely as he smiles with a down turned red mouth smeared across his own.

"What're you going to give me," he says, pulling his shirt off and throwing it onto the pile on the bench.

"What?"

He takes another long drag on his joint, and lets the smoke billow from his lungs before he sits back and replies. "For the scarf. What's it worth to you."

You watch his hand stroke down his belly, past the wet patch on his t-shirt and down to the front of his pants. He adjusts himself, rolling his hips as he palms his cock through the fabric.

You swallow a lump in your throat. Maybe it's the smoke going to your head, the haze of the room making you feel stuffy and floaty, clouding your judgement. Or maybe you've always had a fucking thing for clowns, you flithy b-

"Anything," you say, before you can stop yourself. He laughs, throwing his head back as he flicks ash onto the floor.

"Then take that coat off and come here. Show me them pretty tits."

You unbutton your coat, throwing it onto the bench with your scarf. You look down, thick sweater obstructing any view he'd have of your chest, and decide to yank that off too, pulling it over your head and discarding it with your coat. You take a deep breath, lungs filling with smoke and the sweaty smell of Bravo the Clown, before you pull down your tank top and bra, pushing your tits out of their cups and exposing them to the cold air.

"Can I have my scarf back now?"

"No! I want a closer look," he pats his lap, visible tent now forming in his red pants. "Come sit down on Bravo the Clowns lap, sugar tits," he says with husky laugh.

You shuffle forward trying not to trip over his shoes as you wonder how you'll perch on his lap with his knees spread so wide. You don't have long to think when he grabs you by the hand and pulls you onto him, your knees straddling either side of his thighs on the chair. It creaks and groans, and you shift on him, terrified the old chair is going to collapse with the weight of you.

He takes a final long drag from his joint, before snuffing it on the vanity and blowing the rest of the smoke into your face. You cough and splutter, blinking back watering eyes, when two large hands come up and grab your tits, massaging them as your chest heaves.

"Nice."

You blink again and look down to see him smiling at your tits, nodding as he massages them. He squeezes them together, watching as the skin squishes and puckers under his fingers. His hands are rough, fingernails painted with chipped polish that glitters in the dim lighting of his trailer. The grimace painted onto his face a stark contrast to the man underneath having the time of his life.

He's entranced, looking at your tits as he squeezes them. Painted fingertips come and pinch your nipples, pulling at them and making you gasp. Your back arches as he tugs, jiggling both as he pinches and laughing as they ripple with the movement. Your hips shift forward, nudging the hardness in his pants, and you fight to still yourself and not grind against him.

Before you know it, he's mashing your tits together again and shoving his face between them, rubbing the scruff of his jaw across your delicate skin, smearing paint all over your chest. He breathes in, and you feel him start to nip and suckle at your flesh as he rubs from side to side, burying his face in you as you push your hips down hard onto his cock.

As quick as he started, he flops back with a sigh, letting your tits fall heavy from his grasp. He smiles serenely as he looks at his handiwork, white and red and blue smeared into a mess of lavender across your tits.

"Think you liked that as much as I did," he taunts, gesturing to where your crotch sits flush against his stiff cock. "Shame you're in so many fuckin' layers." He runs a hand up your thigh, pinging the thickness of your tights against your leg before fingers play with the edge of your skirt where it's bunched around your thighs. He tugs it higher, pulling it to your waist.

He slides his hands back down, thumbs tracing down the front of your tights, teasing the apex of your thighs. One hand holds you there, stopping you from rocking into him again, whilst the other slides between you, rubbing broadly over your damp, covered crotch.

You close your eyes, letting him massage your pussy with his large hand, the sensation muted by so many layers. You rock into his palm as you float along on his lap, lost in his heavy breathing and the monotonous music still jingling along in the background.

He starts muttering, playing with the waistband of your tights, looking for a better way in, a way to get to your cunt that means you don't have to get off his lap. Your eyes snap open, you watch as he shrugs, a wicked smile pulling smeared makeup across his face. He pulls at your tights, gripping in both hands, tearing the fabric and exposing your inner thighs and panties to him. You can't help but moan as you feel his hand find your bare skin, and push against the wet front of your panties.

He lets out a low whistle, he'd barely touched you and you're dripping, grinding against his hand. "I can do one better than my hand," he says, waggling his eyebrows and looking down to his crotch. He's fully hard now, tent more impressive than the big tops outside.

Before he can say another word, you're reaching for his pants, pulling the zipper down and fishing out his rock hard length. He pulls both his arms back holding them up in mock surrender.

"Woah, woah!" he laughs.

You start to stroke his cock, pumping up and down, drawing the precum dripping from his tip over your palm and down his length with each stroke. He's watching you as you play with him, teasing his tip, reaching down into his red pants with your other hand to stroke his balls. They're heavy in your hand and sticky with sweat, but you squeeze them as you jerk him, making him groan, throw his head back and grip the arms of his chair.

Your pussy is cold without his hand, neglected. You don't want to let go of the weight of him, so you rub his tip over the front of your soaked panties, dragging it over your clit and applying pressure as you circle it with his head. You need more, more friction, so you hold him against you, rocking your hips against one side of him as your palm holds him to you in the other.

"Oh, hell yeah. Are you gonna come just from grinding on me?!" he says in disbelief, listening to your desperate moans as you jerk him against your pussy.

"No," you gasp, watching a bead of sweat trickle down the side of his face over the layer of greasy paint. The look of him alone is almost sending you stratospheric - the hair, the paint, the sweat - but the friction against your pussy isn't enough. "I want to put it in me."

He looks like he's won the lottery, wide eyes and thrilled face covered in paint nodding back at you, gesturing down to his dick as if to say help yourself.

You yank your panties to the side as you rock your hips into his cock, still holding him tight to you. Your slick pussy glides up and down his length, his head rubbing directly over your clit with each cant of your hips. You're moaning, wiggling on him as he watches straight down at his cock gliding against your bare cunt.

"Do you have a...?" you say, looking around the room for anywhere where he might stash a condom.

"Nope," he says, popping the P. "If you want it, you gotta take it like this."

You don't even consider any other option, you simply plunge your two middle fingers deep inside you, gathering your slick before smearing it around yourself and down the other side of Bravo the Clown's cock. You raise up on your knees, the chair creaking again as you move, and tease him against your entrance before taking him inside you.

"Oh, Bravo," you moan as you sink down onto his cock.

"Thank you, I'm here 'til Tuesday," he jokes, miming a bow from where he's seated. You bet he uses that on everyone. You soon wipe the smug grin off his face when you lift up and slam back down onto him, moaning his name once again before you begin fucking yourself on him in earnest. "Fuck."

"Dieter," he whines as you bounce on him, chasing a high that seems so out of reach with the high already muffling your head, "Name's Dieter."

"Dieter," you groan, bottoming out and groaning as you rock your hips over him, his cock seated deep in you.

"Fuck yeah, that's it," he grunts, clown shoes planted flat on the floor giving him leverage to pound up into you as you meet his every thrust. The chair is creaking, the trailer shaking, your lavender colored tits bouncing with each pound. His glazed over eyes watch them bounce in front of his face, a frown knitting his brows together and creasing the paint slathered on his skin as he tries to focus on your jiggling breasts. You think you see him go cross eyed as he tries to look at both of your nipples at once.

You're about to reach your hand down, circle your clit and bring yourself over the edge when arms wrap around you pulling you toward him, face falling into his neck. You can smell him more strongly here, the smell of sweat and weed clinging to him like a second skin. He holds onto your ass as he pounds up into you, pulling your cheeks apart. From this angle you can feel the grind of his hair against your clit with every thrust, and you muffle your moan into his neck.

"Ohhhhh."

"Gonna have to give me more than that, ain't been long since I last came," he huffs into your ear as he pulls you apart. You can feel the slick smear of grease paint on the side of your face.

There's another loud rip, your tights being torn again, this time from behind to expose more of your ass. He slows down the roll of his hips into yours as he pulls you deeper, and deeper, letting you grind down onto him even easier, the rub of him against your clit almost perfect now. The feel of his throbbing cock deep in your pussy, rough hands pulling your ass open and the scratch of his pubic hair on your clit feel so good, but you can't quite get there, whatever end you're trying to reach chased away by the fuzz in your head.

You whine from his neck, shifting your hips, trying to see if another spot would work better. Bravo - Dieter catches on and you hear his voice rumble from his chest as you rock on his lap.

"What's your favorite color?"

Now hardly seems like the time to get to know each other, but you humor him. "Blue," you breathe, rubbing your nose against his cheek, the smell of grease paint strong.

"Blue it is."

One arm lets go of you and you hear something on the vanity. You keep rocking your hips, still so close but not close enough. He brings his hand back and you gasp at a foreign sensation between your cheeks.

It's thick and slick, swiping smoothly across your asshole. You moan and gasp against his face, halting your movements and lifting off him a fraction. He laughs, swiping his slicked finger back and forth over your ass, circling the tight ring before dipping a fingertip in just as he pulls you back down flush onto his cock.

It's intense, and you moan so loud Tattoos and Sequins can probably hear you.

"And that's improv," he says, grunting as he picks up the pace of his thrusts again.

"Fuck, more," you beg, as he slips more of his fingertip into your ass, fucking you hard now as you grip his neck and bring your face in line with his.

He laughs at you, panting with the effort of fucking you. "Oh you're freaky, I like it."

"Watch who you're calling a freak, clown." Your grip his neck, holding on for dear life, unphased by the spread of his face paint onto your own skin.

Both arms are wrapped around you, one feeling at your entrance where he pounds into you, creamy slick coating his fingers with each thrust, the other between your cheeks, finger hooked into your tight hole. His finger tugs at you with each bounce onto his cock, stretching you and making you feel fuller than you are. You tilt your hips again, clit colliding with his thick hair, gridning against you, and you see stars glitter around your vision. They're so close now, the haze in your brain diffusing the light as it draws closer and closer.

"Hnnnng, I'm so close," you groan, rubbing your nose against his.

"Fuck," he mumbles as you pull his mouth onto yours. You kiss him, moaning and grinding against his lap, his tongue flicking against the seam of your lips just as the stars align and burst in your vision.

You come with a deep groan into his mouth, clenching tight around his cock as he frantically pounds up into you, hips stuttering as sweat drips down his face. You feel him start to twitch and then his cock is slipping from you, the remnants of your own orgasm fading as his cock slides against the outside of your cunt and spurts thick ropes of cum up against his belly, catching the already damp hem of his t-shirt.

You sit, faces together, panting for a moment, kissing him again just before he slides his finger from your ass, wiping the slick onto your exposed skin. When he looks down at his spent cock, he groans and huffs.

"Not again. I like this shirt."

He tuts at himself, flopping his arms down and looking around for something to tidy up with. He gives up, instead grabbing a tin from the vanity, popping it open, and starts to roll another joint on his chest.

You take that moment to climb off him, covering your pussy with the scrap of fabric of your panties, tugging your skirt down and your tank top up to cover as much of you as you can. The paint on your chest will stain, but you'll think about that later.

You throw your coat back on, not bothering with your sweater or the mess on your face, when Dieter addresses you again.

"Don't forget your scarf."

You roll your eyes, casting an exasperated look at him only to see him looking up at you with a mischievous glint in his eye.

You take your scarf, unbunching it and immediately sticking your hand in something wet and sticky. Even in the darkness, you can tell it's almost definitely cum. You look over to Dieter, disgusted look on your face as he shrugs his shoulders.

"If I'd known you'd come here begging for some of this," he gestures down his slouched body, "I never would've done that sweet cheeks. That one's on you."

"You're an ass."

"I'm not an ass, I'm the one and only Bravo the Clown." He spreads his arms wide, looking obscene with his flaccid cock hanging out of his bright red pants, belly covered in cum and face paint smeared all over his face. He places the unlit joint between his lips and you walk past him, pushing open the door to his trailer and stepping outside into the clear air. You take a deep breath, head already feeling clearer when you turn back, a question on your lips.

He's stood at the door of his trailer, tucking his cock back in, looking even crazier now that your head is clearer.

"The music?" you ask. It'd been playing this whole time, the same tune over and over.

"It's called method acting, sweet cheeks," he says with a wink, lighting his new joint and tilting his head back to expel a plume of smoke into the night sky.

You laugh, you can't help it, the man is a caricature even of himself, but there's something so intoxicating about it.

"Goodnight, Dieter."

You walk back to your car to the tinkling of fairground music and Bravo the Clown's raspy laughter.

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#dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #the bubble fanfiction #dieter bravo #cw clowns #fic: carnal-val #coveted fics

[covetyou]

jester little bit more

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Dieter Bravo x plus sized contortionist f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: clowns, vaginal fisting, protected PIV, inappropriate use of grease paint, drug reference, slightly subby Dieter, the hand tattoo, reader is referred to as Sparkles and has a briefly mentioned latex allergy. word count: 4.4k summary: Dieter drives you to distraction all day, so you go to give him what for, only to get more than you bargained for in return.

A/N: A gift to my beloved @sp00kymulderr - a simple mention of it a month ago (to the day!) is quite literally all it took to convince me to write a clown fist-it-fic, you are my muse, my inspiration. happy holidays bb

not clowny in an intentionally scary/horror way, but if you really hate clowns probably do not read. this is a different reader, same clown!Dieter to send in the clown.

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future work

ooh ahh, jester little bit, ooh ahh jester little bit more...

You notice it through your whole act - the burning hot stare of Bravo the Clown as you twist and turn your body into shapes for the awed masses. You never felt more beautiful, more alive, than when you were contorting yourself like this, soft rolls bunching at your sides, rippling fabric and making your sequinned costumes glitter under bright lights with each undulation.

It's when you see him start to adjust his red clown pants that you have to calm yourself, stop yourself from unrolling from your position, stomping over to him, knocking that stupid wig off his head and slamming him into the ground. You don't want to kick up a fuss, not in front of a crowd, and you just know the bastard would like it anyway. He usually did.

Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you move through the motions of your set. Contorting this way and that, bending a leg here, twisting there, until you're taking a bow and hurrying backstage to give that fucking clown a piece of your mind.

But Bravo the Clown is nowhere to be found.

Probably in that filthy fucking trailer of his already. He never did like sticking around for the finale, always taking off his own performances, sometimes forgetting he even had two and leaving straight after the first was finished. So, you wait it out, standing with your arms crossed, ignoring anyone's attempts to communicate with you. By now they know the score - once Bravo the Clown had pissed you off, there was only one thing that would solve it.

You rush through the final bows of the night, plastering a sickly sweet smile onto your face before all but running back to the dressing room. No one bothers you, letting you tug off your costume in peace, the tight lycra slinking from your body and landing in a heap on the floor. Throwing on your shorts and a sweater, you stomp from the tent - your make up can wait, you're going to go talk to that asshole before he gets too high to function.

Approaching his worn trailer, you slam the flat of your palm against the old door. "Bravo! Hey! Asshole! Open up." The light is on and you can hear movement but you slam again anyway, imagining his face right beneath your palm as you smack it against the door.

The door wiggles, bowing a little where it gets caught on the latch, before flying open to reveal Bravo the Clown, who almost comes flying with it.

"What do you want, Sparkles," he grumbles from around an unlit joint. You snatch it from his mouth just as he's about to light it, and watch was he feebly reaches for it with a pathetic grabby hands and a scowl on his face.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, Bravo?" you say, pointing your finger into his chest, pushing him back into his trailer and following him in. "Do you know how distracting it is, you practically getting yourself off in public like that? I'd be just as much to blame as you if you were caught, and you are not ruining this for me."

You slam the joint down onto his vanity, the discarded grease paints rattling with the force of it.

He looks so sad and pathetic like this, though maybe it's his choice in make up. He usually opted for a classic, simple clown face, but lately he'd been mixing it up. Today he has sad eyebrows drawn above his own, making him look more like a sad puppy than a man.

"You took the outfit off," he mumbles, huffing out a sigh of disappointment.

"Yes, Bravo, I took my work outfit off, now that I have finished working. You can take yours off too y'know, you don't have to live in this shit." You gesture to his obscene get up, the red pants still strapped up and his striped shirt still buttoned to the top, collar securely in place. The only thing he was missing was his wig, which was thrown onto its shelf with the others.

He smirks at you, a ridiculous gesture beneath all the make up, and starts to unbutton his shirt.

"That is not what I meant, and you know it."

"Whaddaya mean?" he says, rubbing his hands down the front of his shirt to get to the last button.

You roll your eyes at him. You weren't in the mood for this, you tell yourself. Not for him, not for any of it. "Quit clowning around, Bravo. Just tell me you won't do it again. I can't risk this job."

"No can do, Sparkles. Y'know, your ass looks huge when you bend backward like that. Can't help what you do to me." He's adjusting his pants again, just as he was back in the big top, only this time you can see the tent in them easily through the thin fabric.

"You can help it, and you will help it," you say in a low tone, walking toward him to jab your finger into his chest once again. "Or so help me, I'll have your ass kicked out of here."

"Hey," he says raising his hands in surrender. "Can't help that I know what you look like all bent up like that under that tight costume. Bet the crowd would like it just as much as I would if you didn't wear it at all."

And there it was. You fuck a clown one time - okay fine two times...three times, it was only three times - and now he won't let you live it down, constantly chasing you whenever he couldn't get his dick wet by other means.

"I know you like to pretend you don't want a piece of Bravo the Clown, Sparkles, but we both know that ain't true. Who came to who first? I know I wasn't the one desperate to get my pussy pounded. And last time? You were wet before you even got here, you were practically humping my leg before I even got anything off you. Even now, don't think I don't know how this is going to end. You're not mad that I find you sexy, baby, you're mad that I turned you on in the middle of your set."

You're going to actually fucking kill him. It doesn't matter that he was right, it was the principle. You snarl at him, ready to snap, when he's pointing between the two of you, a question on his face.

"Are we gonna hate fuck?"

"You are unbelievable."

He's pulling his shirt off and sliding his suspenders over his shoulders already. With his discarded shirt, he swipes the sad expression from his face, exposing his golden skin. He definitely knows where this is going. "You didn't say no."

"We're not fucking, Bravo," you say, crossing your arms. If this is how he wanted to play it, you were going to play right back. "You owe me. Big time."

His eyes light up, this could be the best day ever for him for all you know. "Oh, hell yeah I do. I've been bad, let me make it up to you. Please?" He's on his knees hands clasped together, pleading, before he even finishes.

You roll your eyes at him again, biting the inside of your cheek. He knew you liked him pathetic, but this was new entirely, and you couldn't hide how much you were enjoying it, even if you were still angry. You nod down at him, giving him silent consent to do what you suspect he's been waiting to do all day.

Bravo the Clown, never one to disappoint a captive audience, dives right in. Head first. Straight for your crotch. He pulls your shorts to the side, exposing your pussy to him and starts licking at you with abandon, digging his tongue as far between your legs as he can, eager to taste you. You have to hold on to his hair, still sweaty from his wig, to stop yourself from falling over.

It had been a long time, you consider. At least a few weeks. It was the least you could do, and he did owe you. And if you ended up having sex, what did it matter, it would be because it was what you wanted and he owed you.

You spread your legs wider, and Bravo moans into your cunt, nodding along as you hear him mumble thank you straight into your pussy. That does something to you then, and you throw your head back with a moan of your own just as he sticks a finger straight into your slick hole.

Your legs can barely take it, already strained and exhausted from your set, and now desperately trying to hold yourself up as a clown eats you out on his knees. He sense it, sees how your legs start to quiver before you're even close, and within seconds he's pulling you to the messy floor of his trailer. He pushes you down onto your back, and you let your body go limp as he dives back into your pussy mouth first, tasting every inch of you. It's sweaty business, being a circus performer, but Bravo the Clown didn't seem to mind. Quite the contrary, he seemed to love it, the hotter and stickier you were the better.

Pent up aggression had already seemed to do half the job for him it seemed, and when he curls another finger into your core you're shaking again for a wholly different reason.

"Fuck, so close. Keep going."

Between your legs, Bravo the Clown groans loudly. The sound is muffled, but that doesn't stop it from rumbling straight through you as his tongue swipes rapidly over your swollen clit. You grab his hair, your belly bunching and curling on one side as you reach for him. His hair is a mess, and your fingers tugging at the strands do nothing to help, but seeing him such a mess, framed between the thickness of your thighs makes you tug his face into you harder, bucking into his face as you go.

His free hand comes up to hold you, tattoo'd forearm pinning you down whilst his fingers grip your belly, creating soft little divots in your flesh with the pressure. You grab his wrist, fisting a fluffy robe discard on the floor in your other hand, anything to anchor you down as you get closer and closer to release.

It's the third finger that does it, slipping into you so easily where he'd worked you open with two, dragging his fingers from side to side to pull your walls apart, pushing down when inside you to make you feel fuller than you were. You're coming with your head thrown back and eyes squeezed tight, fingers clawing at his hair as his tongue continues its dance over your throbbing clit. Your hips go from chasing his mouth, pushing into his tongue, to desperately trying to be free from the overstimulation.

When he pulls back, his whole face is wet - forehead with a sheen of sweat from his efforts, and his lower face glistening with saliva and the wetness of your own cunt. The remnants of white paint caught in the creases around his nose are gone, likely smeared into your own skin and the matching halo of white around his face is further smudged into his hairline, looking like a mad professor streaked with gray where you'd dragged your fingers through his hair.

If you weren't still so annoyed with him you'd be licking it all off, tasting yourself mixed with the sweat on his face, paint be damned.

"Fuck, you look so good when you come, Sparkles."

He looks drunk, or high, or a combination of the two. You laugh at how ridiculous it is. A clown drunk off your pussy, fingers still slowly working away inside of you, your flimsy shorts still yanked to the side.

"Consider yourself lucky, Bravo," is all you say as you let your body flop back onto his floor. He shuffles forward a second later. Probably adjusting his dick for the millionth time tonight, you think.

When you finally open your eyes again, he's sat on his ass, his fingers inside you feeling more like a massage than anything else. You could, should, tell him to stop, but you're too boneless and relaxed to care. He catches you looking, and not a moment later a sly smile is pulling at his cheeks.

"You're so bendy," he says, wiggling his fingers in you. "And stretchy," he splays his three fingers wide.

"Bet you're stretchy everywhere," he says, waggling his eyebrows - his actual eyebrows visible for once now that he's swiped off all the paint.

"Bravo," you say as a warning. You knew what he was getting at. You'd made the mistake of making that little confession whilst high with him one night. It intrigued you, sure, and you'd be lying if you said you hadn't tried to fit your own hand in yourself just to see, of course. But you couldn't quite reach, the angle wasn't quite right, and as flexible as you were, more than four fingers by your own hand seemed too awkward to fit. When he offered you a hand that night, you'd both descended into giggles and you thought it was all forgotten. Well, obviously not.

"Please," he begs, eyes softening behind the dregs of his eye make up - blue and smudged and looking more like icy bruises than make up now. You doubt your own looked much better, your eyes already feeling gritty from screwing them closed whilst covered in glitter.

"I owe you, remember?"

"...Fine."

It's with a triumphant look that he pulls his fingers from you, dragging your shorts down your legs and leaving a wet trail of your juices in his wake. He throws them into the pile on his bench, no doubt you'll have fun looking for those later, and he bends down to kiss the swell of your lower belly, thanking you in the process, before sitting back on his haunches.

You think you're wet enough, relaxed enough, his hand already coated with your slick, to take him. Bravo the Clown thinks differently, and reaches over to his vanity for the first grease paint he can get his hands on.

"Don't you -"

But he's already doing it, smearing a thin layer of white paint over the broadest part of his hand, almost covering the small tattoo by his thumb in the process.

" - dare." You sigh and he simply shrugs as if to say what before plunging two fingers back into your slick pussy, curling them up into you and dragging along your walls, making you fall back with a moan yet again. This fucking clown.

A third finger slips inside you, quickly followed by a fourth, and you're sitting up on your elbows on the floor of his trailer, watching him as he's singularly focused on your hole stretching to accommodate his digits. The triangular tattoo on his wrist may as well be a neon open for business sign with how it's directing his, and your, eyes straight to his fingers being slowly engulfed by your pussy.

A quick look up at you and a small nod of your head is all he needs to push forward, applying pressure to his hand and slipping it further and further inside of you.

You gasp when you stretch over his knuckles, your brows knitting together. Even with your legs spread wide, there's a small burn, a stretch, as he pushes into you. But then he sinks in past the hard ridges of his knuckles and his hand gives a little more, leaving you feeling impossibly full. You made a living off of stretching and twisting your body into seemingly impossible positions. There wasn't a stretch you hadn't felt, but this was something new - the ache of a stretch you'd never felt before.

"Amazing," he mumbles, fucking his fingers into you past the knuckle then back out again. They start to slip in with ease after a few moments, and you reach down between your legs to feel him as he pushes in.

"More," you moan, knowing only half of his hand is in you. If he hadn't smeared grease over his hand to lube himself up, you'd still be able to see that tiny tattoo. You wanted it inside you.

A slow push of his hand again and his whole fist is breaching you. He submerges his hand into your heat, the slick pooling at your entrance from your earlier release and the grease on his hand making his hand suddenly slip all the way inside of your pussy. If you felt full before it was nothing compared to this.

You whimper, watching him watch you as you take his fist.

"Oh fuck."

You're going to come again already. You know there's no stopping it. Especially not when he brings his other hand up to hold you still, swiping his rough thumb back and forth over your clit as he twists his fist from side to side, getting a feel of you from the inside out. You grab at his wrist, holding it steady and rock your hips, shallowly fucking yourself on his fist.

You feel the first spasm without warning, clamping around his hand so hard you'd expel him from your body if you weren't holding him so tightly in place. Your whole body quivers, quakes, shaking like some haunted hand puppet controlled by Bravo's fist.

Seeing stars, or maybe it's the glitter caught in your eyes, you fall back as you shake, the pulsing between your thighs unrelenting as you feel yourself gush and soak his hand. Your moans and twitches die down, and your death grip on his wrist finally releases.

Now that he's free, Bravo the Clown takes this as a cue to start up again, pulling his hand out of you in one continuous movement.

"Oh - nnhg."

Your back arches off the trailer floor at the slow drag of his fist, and caves back in when he pushes back in. You let yourself curl back up to watch again, too curious by how his fist looks moving inside you to fully give in to the fullness overwhelming your body.

Punching in and out, the rim of your swollen pussy stretches across his fist, and you watch, mesmerized and crying out, as the paint smeared on his hand fades and the tattoo usually hidden by his gloves comes back into view, only to make a disappearing and reappearing act inside of you. Before now you'd licked every single one of his tattoos, and now more than ever you wanted to do it again.

"Oh, god yeah."

"That good?" he finally asks, his voice thick and heavy. Looking up at you for only a second before being drawn back to your cunt with wide eyes.

"Your body is amazing," he says enthusiastically, as if you're the first person to ever be fisted, and he dives back in again to lick around your spread pussy, sucking your clit into his mouth with a wet slurp.

"Dee!" You squeal, falling back with a thud. You want to watch, you really do, but you just can't. Not when it feels like this.

"So now you know my name," he mumbles from around your clit, trying to suck it back into his mouth a second later. Your pussy is squelching, wet and dripping all over his hand, down his wrist, onto the floor of his trailer and whatever unfortunate item of clothing it is you're laying on. It's going to be soaked and you don't care. All you care about in the moment is his fist, still moving, fucking you so full and leaving you so empty, and the flick of his tongue over your clit.

"Gonna come, gonna come, Dieter, - oh, g- fuck."

He moans, nodding into your clit, shoving his fist straight into you and rocking it back and forth inside of you, leaving you full as he flicks your clit to orgasm.

You clamp down on him, pussy tightening around his entire fist as you come, spasms shooting through your pussy until you're a writhing twitching mess, begging him to stop the movement of his tongue. He does, but can't resist kissing your clit one last time, tongue peeking out to swipe across it, grumbling laugh leaving his chest when your entire body twitches at the act before collapsing into a heap.

He's breathing as heavy as you are when you look up at him a second later.

"Please can I stick it in? Please?" his eyes do that infuriating puppy thing again. You look down at him, still panting as his fist rocks in you slowly.

"Fine," you whine, the only reluctance in your voice from him having to remove his hand to get his cock in you. "But you know the rules."

"Yeah, yeah, wrap it up," he mumbles, pulling his hand from you with an ease you would've been embarrassed by if he hadn't got you so worked up and if the subsequent orgasms hadn't turned you into a liquid human being. He reaches over with the same slick coated hand to grab at a tin under his trailer bench. Opening it, it looks to be his weed stash, or what's left of it, but he knocks aside some loose rolling papers to pull out a gold packet.

"Latex free, baby," he says, shaking the packet between two fingers. It was sweet, really, that he remembered your allergy.

Dieter is pushing his pants down his thighs a second later, pulling his cock free from their polyester prison. You almost ask if he needs a hand, if he's hard enough, but a quick glance and you know. His pants have a wet stain on the front of them, precum leaking from the tip of his cock whilst he fisted you. From the looks - length rock hard, tip swollen and angry, slit still dripping for you - he's painfully engorged, desperate to relieve the ache in his cock with your warm, wet, pussy.

Tearing the wrapper with his teeth, he rolls the condom down his cock. As much as he owed you for distracting you all evening, you couldn't deny there was something about this man when he was a desperate, needy mess for you. It was your body that did this to him - the soft rolls of your belly as you contorted yourself, the swell of your ass as you bent backward, the broadness in your hips, the strength in your arms.

He fists his cock, and you watch him nearly lose it there and then. Biting back a laugh, you reach out, pulling him over you until he's slotted between your legs. Any other day and you'd be trying something more adventurous than missionary with him, but right now you didn't trust your limbs to keep you up, or Dieter to last more than a few seconds.

He lines up with your slick hole, and pushes in with a shaky breath, stilling once he's seated inside you. You think for a second that he might be asleep, but then his hips start slowly moving.

"Why d'you always feel so good?" he asks, face close to yours you can see the paint caught in his wrinkles more easily now.

"Magic pussy."

He laughs, raspy and scratchy in your ear, tucking his face into your neck. "Sparkles and her magic pussy. That's a TV special I'd like to see. Could probably pull a rabbit out of- oof."

You hit him, and it only makes his hips pump faster, snapping his mouth shut to concentrate.

The sound of the wet slap of his skin against yours fills the trailer, his balls squelching against your dripping cunt with each thrust. He's moaning and grunting in your ear, whispering about how good you feel, how great you looked, about that fucking bodysuit and how much he loves how wide your legs can stretch. At that, you wrap them around him, pulling him in tight to you, forcing his thrusts deeper. For as much as he pissed you off, you still trusted him, had an affection for him you would never admit to, neither publicly or to yourself.

"Uh - oh, fuck, Sparkles. Lemme. Please let me..."

Feeling between your bodies, he tries to touch your clit again. You knock away his hand, threatening to ruin his orgasm if he so much as tries to touch you one more time. He whimpers in your ear, settling his hand on your breast instead, squeezing and relaxing his grip as a distraction from his own orgasm tingling through his bones. You know what a threat could do to him and from the feel of him alone you know he's holding back more than ever. If his balls were any tighter and his cock were any harder you'd think he'd burst.

So, you do something you said you would never do for any man, and you beg, just a little bit, whispering softly and sweetly into his ear as his cock fucks you full.

"Come, Dieter. Come in me. Please."

And he does, groaning deep and low, deafening you in one ear with it as he empties his balls into the condom inside of you. You grip him hard, hugging him tight to you as he shakes on top of you.

He looks totally fucked out and ridiculous when you next look to the side and see him, face smooshed into the plush robe you'd been laying on. One of your own eyelashes is stuck to his cheek, along with a streak of glitter. You can't even imagine the state of your own face, but he doesn't seem to mind it when he finally peels open his eyes.

"You wanna get food and smoke pot?"

The man was a joke. Infuriating. A total and utter clown in every sense of the word.

But you always knew what you were getting with Bravo the Clown. It's what drew you to him, it's what made you trust him. Everything he did was written as plain as day on his face, or tumbling from his mouth in a stream of consciousness. Most of all, it was nice to be soft and pliable, as much as you were strong, with someone who wouldn't use it as a weapon against you.

And you would never say a single word of it to his face, opting instead to suck a hickey into his shoulder, tasting the sweat from his skin as you draw a bruise to the surface.

"Fine, but you're buying. You still owe me."

soz to my tag list for this: @jupiter-soups @wannab-urs @bean-is-reading @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @youandmeand5bucks-blog @bbyanarchist @vickywallace @kamcrazy123 @valkyreally @ashhlsstuff @a-literal-goblin @ariundercovers @iluvurfather @stevie75 @toxicanonymity @thesevi0lentdelights

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future work

#dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo #the bubble fanfiction #fic: carnal-val #tw clowns #coveted fics

[covetyou]

a pedro pascal character circus AU

Ladies and gentlefolk, adults of all ages, come one, come all, to the Carnal-val.

Witness the most spectacular sights, jaw-dropping feats of depravity, and awe-inspiring liberties taken with Pedro characters.

general warnings: smut, different reader each fic unless otherwise specified, no Y/N

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for fic updates

send in the clown - 4.1k You lose your scarf on a visit to the carnival. Send in Dieter Bravo - washed up actor turned circus clown.

jester little bit more - 4.4k Dieter drives you to distraction all day, so you go to give him what for, only to get more than you bargained for in return

jack of all trades - 4.5k A trip to the circus goes awry thanks to your meddling not-quite-nephews and a handsome stranger in a cowboy hat.

Bravo the Clown edit by @iamasaddie

#fic: carnal-val #circus AU #masterlist #coveted fics #dieter bravo x you #agent whiskey x you

[covetyou]

Whiskey WIP Wednesday

I cannot tell you how many fucking times it just took me to spell Wednesday.

thank you @milla-frenchy and @iamasaddie for the tags. I feel like I've been caught in the most incredibly depraved tag team, ty bbs. you sure do know how to make a girl feel special

hoping to be done with jack of all trades, ringmaster of none by next week. send in the clown accidentally spawned a circus themed p-boy universe, and now here we are. (din is a human cannonball)

pairing: Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x f!reader warnings: circus AU, unprotected PIV, creampie, oral (m receiving), spanking, public sex, exhibitionism. summary: Maybe it's obsession, but you can't seem to take your eyes off the Ringmaster in the cowboy hat. Going to talk to him isn't weird, right?

"Think you're wet enough for me to stick it in?" he mumbles into your ear as he rubs at the damp crotch of your panties from behind. You'd been wet for most of the show, and he was about to find out.

Before you know it he's rounded on you and is pulling his cock out from his pants, giving you no time to answer. His cock stands stark and heavy, even as flushed and full as it is it looks pale in contrast with the black of his pants and the bright red frame of his jacket. You salivate - wet definitely won't be a problem.

Someone runs past that moment, pulling you sharply you out of it. You're here, bent over a barrel with your dress flipped up, panty-clad ass on display, and cock hanging dangerously close to your face.

What the fuck are you doing.

zero pressure tags for @idolatrybarbie @sp00kymulderr and anyone else pls n thank.

#wip tag game #coveted updates #sneak peek #fic: carnal-val

[covetyou]

last line tag game

thank you @sp00kymulderr @corazondebeskar-reads @punkshort and @idolatrybarbie for the tags 💛

rules: in a new post, show the last line(s) you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you like).

issue is I'm working on like 5-10 things at once right now, so you're getting the literal last line from a few things, in the order of their release.

if you would like to know more please slip me an ask, comment or DM and I will be happy to RAVE about things at you.

Joel x F!Reader - 26th March

"Bye." You slam the door, the stupid fucking self locking door, and slide down it, head in your hands. You have never felt so fucking stupid.

Dieter BRC Prompt - 30th March

But your resolve never was that strong where Dieter was concerned. Not really. "Fine. I'll stay."

down to clown - 1st April

You lift the dress, the wired hem flexing and bouncing in your palms, and reveal her cock dangling freely between her legs.

some good friend pt. 2 - TBD

The hand on the back of your sweater tightens, and you know this is it. You’re just glad it’s not the knife. Instead it’s fabric pressing on your wind pipe until the stars give way to darkness, a street lamp turning supernova, and you're out.

PA WIP 1 - TBD

But, while you can still hear it, that steady beep - beep - beep is the most beautiful thing you've ever heard.

PA WIP 2 - TBD

"No, I mean… Do you ever think it's weird how you're my only friend? The only one I have. And I pay you. I pay you to be my friend. The one person I have, and I pay you to be my friend."

tagging these lovelies, I am deeply sorry if you have already been tagged, but braincells, in this economy? not a chance.

@theywhowriteandknowthings @perotovar @chronically-ghosted @noxturnalpascal @tightjeansjavi @missredherring

#wip tag #coveted updates #fic: dress up joel #fic: carnal val #tim rockford x reader #joel miller #dieter bravo #tim rockford

[covetyou]

Hi you. Lets play a random FMK:

Bravo the clown, Cuck!Joel, Ringmaster!Whiskey

OH YOU SNEAKY-

easy peasy though, you gave me them in the order I'd fmk them

Fuck - Bravo the Clown. man can put his greasepaints anywhere he likes, I'd risk the UTI/thrush combo that's inevitably coming for me.

Marry - cuck!Joel. easy. he has killer DIY skills, is absolutely whipped, and likes to share? sign me up for a lifetime of that

Kill (or give a lil kiss tbh) - Ringmaster!Whiskey. I love him, just not as much as the other two. he can have a lil smooch, but other than that, soz to love you and leave you bb

play with me?

#coveted asks #fic: carnal val #cuck!joel

[covetyou]

This is an 18+ blog. No minors, pretty please.

✨ = new 🖤 = smut 🌈 = fluff 🔪 = dark 💥 = angst

series and collections

something wretched about this 🖤 - joel x f!reader 5 part series featuring Joel Miller; self appointed pharmacist, medication supplier, drug dealer and total, utter slut.

welcome to the carnal-val 🖤🎪- various x reader a pedro pascal character circus AU home of bravo the clown, ringmaster whiskey, and more.

cuck!Joel 🖤🌈- joel x f!reader, m!OC(s) x f!reader adventures in cucking one Joel Miller.

✨Dieter's PA 🖤💥- dieter x gn!reader a collection of Dieter Bravo's antics with his long suffering PA.

dress up Joel 🖤🌈 - joel x f!reader welcome to your seasonal encounters with one Mr. Joel Miller.

oneshots

sleepless 🖤 - joel x f!reader - 3.5k It’s been days since you last got anything resembling decent sleep. You’re exhausted, but more than that, you’re angry. Every little thing is pissing you off, and you just want to be left the fuck alone. Joel, ever the gentleman, has a solution to your sleeplessness, and your bad mood.

best in show 🖤- dieter x f!reader - 3.7k The Academy Awards, the most well known, well planned, film award ceremony in the world. So why is the host missing?

✨some good friend 🖤 - tim rockford x sex worker!f!reader - 7k Somewhere between Detective and himself, Tim Rockford comes to you for a relief he's finally letting himself have.

drabbles

y2k 🌈- no pairing a day in the life of Joel and Sarah Miller

fic recs

the perfect peach

SWAT kink recs

#masterlist #pedro pascal characters #joel miller fanfiction #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo #joel miller #tess servopoulos #jack whiskey daniels #kingsman fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #the bubble fanfiction #tim rockford fanfiction