#till lindemann smut

[hes-the-muse]

'Immaculate Red'

ONE SHOT | IMMACULATE RED

[till masterlist] | [all muses]

Muse: Till Lindemann x f!reader (first person)

Rating: 18+ , smut Words: 5k Author: @thexhostess (Antonia) For @madhatter2727 credit: divider here by @saradika-graphics. Moodboard by @madhatter2727

Notes: A Till oneshot.

I'd love feedback on this from anyone in the Till fic fandom. Curious to see what you think and how many of you are out there.

Charred scent, black powder. Pomegranate seeds shimmering on the table. A feast for a king. Maybe a queen. The pyrotechnics echo with the charred grey dust as the smell of gunpowder is still floating in the air, occlusive and hot. Too hot and I sit to catch my breath. I close my eyes and rest. Then a weighted hand on my shoulder, gloved, black leather. I open my eyes to see slicked back white hair, black smoked liner, singed and melting around his eyes. He’s tall, a distinct presence.

‘Give me your hand’ he says.

It’s a statement not a question. German accent, thick, rolling. Cutting through the smoke, the strobe and fireworks. He’s taking me out of here. I have no choice. It’s him and me and he is possessive. He pulls me through locked steel doors and slim, dimly lit hallways where th heat gathers. Sparks, but not fireworks flash in front of my eyes. He senses my hand going weak in his, my steps slowing and not being able to catch up with him pulling me through the small building. The edges of my vision reduce every second, closing into the centre. Black with a window into the world. And before it closes, I feel his arm behind my knees and he’s lifting me. Up into his arms, whisking me down the halls and out into the biting Autumn air. I float until the black recedes, my vision restoring to full capacity and the air awakens me. I’m still floating, he hasn’t let me go. He hasn't set me down on the ground. I’m not on my feet.

I see the leaves above, dry and orange, browns and reds floating down one by one, sky clear and crisp, a sharp crispness in my airways. It makes me cough. I can focus enough to see that white hair in view, and then his eyes, full of concern and almost angry. Wide eyed but hard somehow.

‘You’re back, don’t worry you're back. You’re with me now.’ He strokes one side of my face with a black leather glove. He stops, leans in to check my face, asks me, ‘Are you OK?’

‘Yes I think I am? Where are we? What happened? Who?’ I say.

‘You couldn’t be in there anymore. You were going to pass out, I couldn’t have that. I had to take you out.’ As the depth of his German accent sounds around me again, it feels like an impenetrable blanket, strong and soothing. The words flow as I listen and then I think I realise.

‘But Who? Till?’

‘Hi.’ He confirms quietly. ‘Yes, shhh.’ He strokes my hair with that gloved hand.

‘But Till is in there!’ I point towards the building. Then there is no building, no venue anymore.

‘He’s not in there. He left with you.’ He laughs.

‘Sorry, I don’t know where I am, I took a turn back there, I don’t feel so good. Who are you again? Can you take me back, I think I can go back in now, I’ll sit down. I’ll be fine.’

‘Shh, darling, don’t worry I will look after you.’

All I see are the Autumn leaves on the path, hear the heavy footsteps thumping on the earth and his long heavy coat swaying as he walks, carrying me.

He says, ‘Do you want to go back to see the end of the show?’

‘I do.’ I mumble.

‘Who were you there to see?’ he asks.

‘Rammstein, and they have to be finishing the show now, I might still make it, I could, maybe I could go back and meet them.’

‘Who do you want to meet?’ he asks.

‘Till.’ I say. ‘I might still have the chance, it’s their home show, maybe they will be hanging out after, it might not be too late.’ I protest.

‘Darling. The show was cut short.’

‘How do have know?’

..

‘Well, um, a pretty girl was ill, and everything had to stop.’ He says.

‘What.. no.’

He smiles through soft determined eyes, holding me tight.

‘I hate to tell you, you stopped it, but I’m serious about this, you had to be taken away from there.’

‘But why? I mean, you took me out, same as crowd surfers, they get taken out and the show goes on, don’t take me too far! The show is still going. The show doesn’t get stopped for one person! Who are you?’ I attempt to make sense of this situation.

He stops. Props me up on his shoulder. ‘Darling look at me. Look at me closely.’ He tells me.

I feel almost well enough to stop asking so many questions.

‘I, took you out of the show. And I, stopped the show myself. The show isn’t going ahead right now, because I left with you. To make sure you are alright. They can’t play the show without me.’ His eyes are very intense and he’s gazing onto my eyes.

‘Till? Till!’ I exclaim.

‘Yes,’ he laughs, ‘I’m Till. Don’t worry darling, you won’t miss the show. So tell me, how much do you think of meeting me? I’d love to know.’ He smiles a side smile.

‘I, I’m sorry.’ I say.

‘Why are you sorry?’ he asks quietly.

‘For sounding like an idiot, telling you all that.’

‘Don’t be, don’t be sorry.’ He whispers, his eyes focusing on mine.

‘Why?’ I ask.

He pauses, ‘Because I needed to make sure you are safe.’

‘Why did YOU help me? How could you leave? It’s not your job to..’

‘Oh it is, it is mine and mine alone. I had responsibility to see that your were alright, personally.’ He adds.

‘ I don’t understand.’

‘You’ve been to our shows before right?’

‘Of course.’

He smiles. ‘I know you have and I needed to be serious about this moment. If there’s ever something wrong, I will help.’

‘What do you mean? But we’ve never met.’ I say.

‘We have now.’ He has a curious longing look, a smile on his face.

He smiles and puts me down. My arms slide away from around the raised wool collar of his winter coat. Once my hazy vision and confusion has gone away, I see him now. Till Lindemann. He reaches out a gloved hand towards me, asking if I want to take it and go with him.

He’s careful, quiet. ‘I think I know who you are.’ He searches my eyes.

‘Well Till Lindemann, I hope you can get to know me.’

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s intently searching mine for something. I don’t know what it is. He’s waiting with his arm outstretched. I take his hand.

..

Over the crunching of the leaves and tapping on the cold ground, I hear the leather of his gloves creak and he turns to me. His voice, clear and deep, gentle, asks me something. He’s asking my name. I tell him. It rolls off his tongue like he already knew.

‘Are you OK with getting something to drink?’ he says.

‘Yes I could use it. Back at the venue?’

‘Take all the time you need. No, the show is already postponed for another night.’

‘But how?’

‘This rarely happens if ever, and it’s a special night.’ He looks over at me.

‘Look Till, I can’t thank you enough for doing this for me, for helping me, I don’t know what I would have done actually if it wasn’t for you, relied on someone else finding me when I had already fainted. I can’t believe you’ve come out here with me like this, and at the expense of your show. I really, appreciate it, but I’m going to have to go, I can't keep you any longer, I can’t have the show cancelled. Can you go back in there, I’m sure if you give them a good enough excuse, a circumstance, and they would be more than happy if you came back, especially now.’

‘Listen, if you’re not comfortable I can understand, but I’m here now. I’m not going back in there, I mean it.’ And then he looks stern, and leans in. ‘The real excuse is that’, and he leans closer still, and he whispers, and I barely hear him, but in my head he is clear and crisp and resonant, ‘the truth is that I’ve waited for you, and I have found you.’

He draws back and with that watchful gentle gaze smiles and knows that I heard him, but it didn’t seem like he spoke at all.

I follow him through woods where the earth is damper and the leaves are layered and decomposing. The scent of dead leaves and warmth of the leather makes me hold on. He has my hand grasped firmly in his. His grip is strong and I know he wouldn’t let me fall. Old keys rattle and he unlocks the log cabin nestled between woodland. He lights a fire in the traditional German stove. He makes us hot black tea. He pours mine with his gloves still on. I take my first sip, he brings me furs, wraps my knees in them. Sets up a seating area atop the stove where there is space to lie down to sleep. At last I see him take off his gloves. His hands are large, massive. The face of his watch seems gigantic and the wrist strap huge. He turns to me as I’m watching him, mesmerised by his hands. The fire dances off his irises, his hair tousled from carrying me, from climbing through the forest. He smooths it back. The kohl on his waterline arresting, gloomy in some ways. I see him with a kitchen knife, wooden handle well used and blade sharp.

‘This is for fruit.’ He cuts into the skin of a pomegranate, slicing it from crown to base, carving thirds into it. He peels back the red and yellow top layers, gets the pomegranate seeds with the knife, collecting them into a Czech crystal glass for me. Immaculate. Sparkling. The ruby red crimson drops onto the edges, covers the knifes blade, covers his fingers. He licks the remainder and he calls me by my name. I freeze. He hands me the crystal with ruby seeds. Gleaming like shimmering gems with the light of the fire.

‘Thank you..I haven’t eaten this fruit in a long time.’

‘Do you like it?’

‘I do.’

We sit in silence. And I notice more about him. His gestures are always gentle. His mannerisms and movements taken with a lot of care. He doesn’t scare me at any point. Even when I saw him with that knife.

‘Are you warm enough?’

‘Yes, it’s very cosy. Is this yours? Your cabin?’

‘Yes it is mine. We, I mean me and the guys sometimes come here to write. Or if I need the privacy. It’s nice to be here. It’s nice for you to be here.’

We stare at the fire. At the embers crackling.

‘Back then, when you said you wanted to get to know me, or, that you think you know who I am, what did have really mean?’

He looks round at me with those solid and contemplative eyes. They look like they want to tell me something he can’t say.

‘I mean that, I think I know you.’

I laugh and try to change the subject.

‘So tell me about your tour, has it been OK, aside from tonight, of course?’ I laugh nervously and clutch the crystal.

‘No really. May I?’ he perches ready to move.

‘Uh huh, yea.’ I say.

He moves closer, almost knee to knee with me. He holds his arms out on his knees, taps his watch face.

‘It’s been a long time since,’ he hesitates and wrings the wrist his watch is settled on.

‘No no, it can’t be a long time, I’m sure, well lots of fans are dying for your time. You know I’m not here for a fling. I don’t do that. I know you helped me tonight, but I can’t.. I can’t be here.’

He looks hurt.

..

‘I’m sorry I’m not trying to be rude, I don’t want to be, I don’t want to give you the wrong impression of me, and I’m sure you are busy, with the guys and the band and you know, considering I ruined your show. I’m grateful, but please I think I better go.’ I look up at him and set there crystal down.

‘Uh, ok at least let me take you back, I took you here, so let me walk you.’ Till offers.

‘Ok.’ I say quietly, embarrassed how that all came across.

‘He puts on my coat.

‘I’m sorry, I don’t mean you..’ I begin.

‘It’s OK’ he says. ‘I know how it seems, I’m glad you told me you’re not one of them.’

‘Can I?’ he says and takes my elbow to help me keep my balance.

‘What I do want to know is, when I’ve walked you home, will you be back?’ Tilting his head towards me as we walk he awaits my response.

‘Of course I will. I’m always at the shows.’

‘I know you come to shows, but will you come back to me? ’ he smirks.

I look over and don’t say anything. I want to come back to him, but I don’t know if I should. He lets me leave his side and walk to my door, but I still have not replied. He picks up my arms and kisses the back of my hand. His eyes flash a subtle ruby and I can’t leave when he lets go and backs away from my door. Turning and his coat swirling.

‘No, wait!’ I call out.

He stops. Looks at me over his shoulder. He waits. I wait.

‘Till, don’t go. I want to come back to you.’

He turns fully to face me.

I reach for him, ‘I can’t go, ‘I want to stay with you.’

He unfolds his arms from behind his back, opens his arms and I run to him.

He whispers right in my ear, ‘ I know you.’

..

Light as air in his arms as he effortlessly walks with me through the forest. The air is whipping through my hair and he talks to me in German, and I understand this time. He talks of things as if we experienced them in the past. As if he found me. And back in the cabin he dresses me in silks and wraps me in furs. Attentive and meticulous. I fall asleep and awaken in his arms. He places me to sleep in the warmest place, and the radiating heat of the stove comforts me through the night.

..

I awake bleary eyed, forgotten what had happened and disoriented with where I am. I see the wooden beamed ceiling of the cabin and the fur all round me. Then I notice him, sleeping on the floor with only a few cushions. I crawl down to him and bring the blankets, covering him, asking if he’d want to go up into the warmth. He doesn’t wake and I shuffle closer to him, face to face and cover both of us in the furs.

I can’t close my eyes. I want to kiss him.

I fight the urge, stop myself. I only move closer, as close as I can get while he’s asleep and he can’t see me. There’s only a small gap between his face and mine and I can easily close it. But again, I don’t.

‘Till.’ I say quietly to test the waters. ‘Till.’ Nothing happens.

Then his eyes snap open, with a hint of ruby. His eyes are piercing and looking deep into my soul. I can’t look away and I can’t do anything else. Only follow his lead as he leans up close, millimeters from my face, then closes the gap kissing my lips, ever so gently. He comes back again and again, when I respond, kissing him back, then he deepens the kiss, pulling me closer to him.

And then a wave overtook me, of visions of him flashing in my mind. The air was thick with white smoke, gunpowder. Bales of dry hay, strong arms embracing me, his mouth on mine, his hips pressing and pushing. Then commotion and shouting, and those strong arms crashing over me, taking me and covering me from the loud noise, so I wouldn’t startle.

‘You can’t be here!’ they shouted. ‘You can’t take her!’

I nestled into his neck, telling him ‘I’m going with you.’ With the pomegranate ruby juice staining my nightdress, I whisper sweet nothings into his ear as he whisks me away high into the forest, the mountains and the castle. I know him, my King. And he’s hungry for me and I for him. And we spend nights in that castle, in a whirlwind of passion and music as he sings to me. And that voice I’ll never forget. That voice.

And when I open my eyes to look at him lying in front of me, his eyes wide and ruby as he's watching me in my almost trance like state. His eyes are searching and waiting.

And I say ‘ You took me away with you and I’m glad, I know you too. I know you.’ And I touch the side of his face.

‘Now you know what I’ve waited for, darling.’ He says.

There are whispers in the dark and they talk about us, and me on his arm, rumouring the ‘latest’. His fur coat over the top and grabbing attention as only he could attract. The visions flash when I touch his shoulder in that coat. The animal skins wrapping around us, they're all over the heavy wooden floorboards, they cushion us and with the fire crackling and the snow falling outside he presses into me with his weight.

When we sit across from each other and he tells me about touring, travel and exhaustion, I remember how he would come back for me on horseback, well built, commanding. He would take me with him, shielded from the cold, running, galloping through the snow, then strip me down in front of a raging fire built by him with his own overwhelmingly large hands. And how I comforted him back then. I remember the snippets, triggered through touch, as I lean up against him drinking his vodka, nestle into his shoulder after a while of sitting together, ignoring questions and looks from passers by in that German town I first saw that Rammstein show. His favourite places to hang out. With every touch of his arm I remember those strong hands, the arms that would lift me up onto horseback, lift me onto his lap in those ancient woodland cabins, the hands that caressed my bare skin and had their way with me. And I finally have the courage to take his hand, and he’s happy. He’s been waiting. He knows I needed the time.

‘I know you’re here with me now. I know you remember.’ He tells me.

My waterline buckles and streams. Those should not be the words to make me cry, but I shake involuntarily. He takes me in for a hug, wipes my tears away with the back of his hand and looks at me with eyes that I’ve seen but never experienced in this lifetime.

‘Never, never, do this, you never have to cry my darling. I found you now. You’re here now.’ He ends his sentence with a gentle whisper, wiping tears, stroking my face. I sob, move his hand, break away. Stand up and walk out from the table. But a large hand pins my wrist onto the wooden tabletop. He won’t let me go.

His eyes turn harder. ‘Darling…’ he’s warning me. Looking down his nose, down the length of the table and at me. ‘Stay with me darling.’ he drawls in his German accent, slow and intoxicated. I wriggle out of his grip, try to, he won’t let me. And then I have to go, to shield my tears from him, I don’t want him to see more of the tears, I don’t want to explain it’s as painful as the day we were torn apart, and now I remember it all. I need solace, even from him. It’s too much to bear. He leaves his mark on me through the ages, and now, as I look down, my wrist is red, his fingers twisting over the skin.

‘Till let me go! For a minute, just for a minute.’

He lets go and I can slip away as he rises from his seat, staring me down, not letting me leave his sight, but I do, I slip round a corner, press myself against a wall in the hall. Red walls, red and purple neon strobe. The music gets louder, the thoughts are drowned out, almost. Almost gone but lingering, on the edge of my vision, on the periphery of my hearing, echoing through my mind. All mixed up. I can’t focus, I can’t breathe, we’re back here again.

But maybe it’s…maybe I need him to break the struggle. If he..If we..

Then I sense it, the footsteps, the determination, it can only be him, drawing closer, crawling over tables to get to me, shoving people out of the way. There’s nowhere else he needs to be but to get to me, to be with me and he will stop at nothing to get there. The heat exhaustion drains me, only until he can…and I know that now, I needed him all this time.

He’s stomping towards me through the strobe and smoke. Eyes fixed on me and nothing else. I helplessly wait. Hopefully. Wait for him to get to me, to move me from this spot. Tunnel vision. I press my palms against the wall behind my back, flat against the red paint. I only watch him as he stalks towards me. He almost doesn’t blink, I never see him blink, fixed and hungry. I hold my breath, my arms pinned with a grip to my waist, squeezing, he leans into me, his hair falling down over his eyes messy from the pursuit of me.

‘Where do you think you're going?’ Audibly breathing, he’s in low tones, quiet. Restrained speech. Surrounding me in his embrace, in his hands, giant hands that wrap me up. His weight against me and the whispering. He presses flush against me and demands I tell him what I’m doing here. What I’m playing at.

‘Everything you need is here.’ He places my hand on his heart flat. ‘Here.’ he looks me dead in the eye, intimidating. And his eyes narrow as he looks down at me. I gulp and blink up at him, he’s looming tall, large, toned, powerful. Then he slowly moves my hand down his chest, down to his lower stomach to the edge of his belt. ‘And here, this is all you need. Do you think so?’ he asks me.

‘You know it is.’ I’m barely audible.

He pushes my hand lower. He’s mad with hormones.

‘I do need you.’ I tell him.

‘What’s that?’ he asks.

My head falls back against the wall ‘ I need you Till.’

‘There you are, there’s a good girl.’

He pulls me towards him, I away from him, he hesitates, looks me over, checks I’m still with him, sympathetic. ‘’I found you that night, finally saw you, don’t get away from me now, don’t change your mind now.’ he says.

‘I won’t, I can’t, I remember everything, I remember you.’ I pull his arms, my own arms outstretched fully, trying to get him to leave with me. ‘Lets go, lets get out of here.’ I tell him.

Built like a tank I can’t move him. But when I give him the eye, he jolts towards me, unable to resist the sultry eyes, the come hither stare. He follows me staggering back down the hallway into the main room, and we try to leave. But he hesitates, hovers around me, stares, pulls at my clothes pawing me. And it’s the same for me when I can’t resist him. I follow his lead as he draws me closer to the table cornering me there, pinning me to the edge, falling over me, closing in. His lips ghosting over my neck and jaw, over my lips and nipping at my bottom lip. He lunges, leans his body weight on mine, pins me to the table top. There’s no stopping. Too late to turn back. Everything is a blur, and tunnel vision doesn’t do it justice. Anyone that is in this room right now is gone to me. All I have is the surface of the table, and Till’s body weight climbing on top of mine. Wanting, hot, frantic. Messy, as he rips the outer layers of my clothes. Harshly pulls at the buttons of my overcoat, peeling back the layers, lifts my skirt, unpins my garter. Hands. Till’s hands pawing at the plush contours of my upper thighs, sliding to his favourite place. Over the gusset of my underwear, palming over the surface of the lace, the heel of his palm, jutting into my clit. Till pushes up pressing until I squirm and brace my back against the tables’ wooden surface.

‘Till.’ I whisper, out of breath already as he pins me further. His eye meet mine, his forehead presses into mine and he pins me fully, my head falling back. He pauses, then with those wide narrow lips, his soft cupids bow pushes onto my lips, softly as his palm moves between my thighs, then hungrily he nips at my bottom lip, teeth scarping, tongue lapping for access. His fingers move to the edge of the lace, and scrunching his hand into a fist he rips the lace clean off my hip, crawling towards the wetness that he’s created. His fingers gliding and circling. There’s nothing else I can think of.

‘Komm zu mir.’ he briefly speaks into my neck.

‘There’s nothing I want more. Nothing.’ I get the words out sighing. I draw him closer with my knees around him.

There’s commotion, voices, calling out but it feels far away, until Till lifts his head and growls, looking around him. He looks feral, distracted. I hear a smashing of glass, scuttling, more commotion and then Till shouts out something in German across the room.

‘Till come back to me, come back’ I whine.

He looks agitated , flustered and angry. ‘Leave us! He yells in English. Stay or leave but get out of my way!’ His eyes are livid as he looks around from above me, then dipping his head back down to me, they soften, then alight with a lust I’m longing to be directed to me. He breathes heavy and strands of hair fall in his eyes as he continues to look down at me. I pet his face, his arm that props himself up above me. I can’t wrap my hand around his entire arm completely, he’s too broad, too powerful.

‘I need you’ I tell him.

His eyes turn a deep red, the colour of pomegranate flesh. He dives, shoving his tongue into my mouth. I plant kisses on his cupids bow, sucking his lip, lingering on the smokiness of him. And then he crawls his fingers inside and it feels overwhelming. He curls and makes my breathing stop. It feels like he’s fucking me. The proportions of his hands to mine are exaggerated. He whispers in my ear.

‘Not the same as when you touch yourself at night, thinking of me is it?’ He laughs, smirks and slides another finger. I moan out load. He undoes his belt. ‘But I’m even bigger than that, darling.’ Red eyes flash, his hand moves away. His cock pushes up to me, slipping against the wetness. I look into his eyes when I can find his gaze. His expression subtly shifts. Admiring the desperation for him in my eyes.

‘I know you darling.’ He swiftly pushes into me, hard, smooth, fast. Not fast enough. I press my hips up to him.

‘More.’ I breathe, flinging my arms about, looking for something to grab onto. He pins them by my wrists to the table. Fucks into me, deeper and slower. Then speeds up and up and up. I feel dizzy, lost in the moment, nothing else exists. I feel the head of his cock, bottoming out. Our breathing is fast paced. He senses I’m holding back. ‘You’re too good not to scream my love.’ He pushes the tempo, further still. He eliminates any type of movement I can do, freeing me to scream my heart out.

‘Till! Till!! TILL! TILL!! TILL!!!’

..

When the high has worn off, my vision expands out beyond the immediate. I can now sense the tension in the air. The awkward glances. The patrons keeping back. As Till lifts me, hoisting me up over his shoulder, I see the pieces of glass all over the bar floor, a chair’s back chipped with the throw. But no one confronts him. They look away as we pass through the bar and out. And now in the privacy of his cabin, Till lies me down on the warm bricks. He joins me, snuggling down with me for the night. It’s cozy, warm. We listen to the fire crackling gently, giving off a soft orange glow. Till undresses me completely under the fur throws, then undresses himself. So heated in the cabin that we feel completely at comfort. He draws himself close to me, flush with him, holds me to his chest. We have the fur to snuggle into, but I sink into a blissful ambiance, resting on his wide chest. Caressing my face, my hair, my shoulders, my waist, Till talks to me in German. Lovingly he whispers, gently he tells me of how much he’s longed to find me. Of things he’s been looking to recognise in me again. He doesn’t stop stroking and petting. The German words falling from his lips, sweetly sharing the thoughts he wants to get off his chest with me. I listen and press myself into him, one knee between his legs. Then I feel the weight of them on mine, and I nestle my hand below his hips and rest it there, and he lulls me to sleep in German.

#rammstein fanfic #till lindemann fanfic #till lindemann #till lindemann smut #till linderman x reader #writing blog #writing

[coffeeandmagicaltales]

#sorrynotsorry

#aesop sharp #hogwarts legacy #professor aesop sharp #professor sharp #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy oc #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy meme #aesop sharp x mc #aesop sharp smut #lord of the rings #rammstein #till lindemann #hannibal #alan rickman

[unlimitedlust]

Sinful Revenge - Till Lindemann

Author’s note: This is a NSFW smut story, so you’ve been warned about what you’re going to find if you decide to read it!

This is a self insert story, so Y/N = Your Name

Have fun!

-----------

What you never thought would ever happen to you, happened. You caught your boyfriend cheating on you with his secretary.

You went to his office to surprise him with the news about your promotion at your own job, to find him eating out that bitch on top of his table, right next to your picture-frame.

Thunderstruck by your unexpected discovery, you just cursed them and shut the door behind you, storming off his office and heading straight to your apartment. Thank god you had refused to move in with him a couple of months before or you’d have to face him later.

You were so angry and shocked, tears streamed down your face as you drove to your apartment to digest everything that had happened and to think about what you would do next.

You were upset and heartbroken, but at the same time you felt relieved for breaking up with him? You couldn’t explain it, but you just felt it. Maybe it was because you knew you had just gotten rid of a guy that would be unfaithful to you, maybe it was because you were free to do whatever pleased you again?

You parked your car in the garage and got inside the elevator as fast as you could just wanting to lock yourself away from the world and the humiliation you had just been through. Your cell phone buzzed incessantly with his calls but you refused to talk to him, there was nothing he could say to you to make things better or to make you feel better at the moment, what you saw with your own eyes had already told you everything you needed to know.

As you reached the 16th floor, the elevator’s doors dinged open revealing your neighbour locking his door, he lived right across the hall.

“Hello, neighbor”

His deep sultry voice took you out of your trance. He was a very handsome man, about 20 years older than you, tall, strong, black haired with piercing greenish-blue eyes, definitely one of the most alluring men you had laid eyes on in your whole life, one of god’s masterpieces for sure. He was very attractive and charming, he had a magnetism that made men want to be him and women desire him and he knew that. 

He was always a true gentleman towards you, but you knew by his eyes that there was something else there, like his thoughts when he looked at you didn’t match his gentlemanly behavior.

Despite his tantalizing looks and magnetism, you never considered the idea of giving into his charm and he also never made any advances since he knew you were already taken. 

You always loved and respected your boyfriend, but deep down you knew your body secretly craved for his touch, a different new touch.

“Afternoon, Mr. Lindemann” You greeted with your eyes on the ground so he couldn’t see your swollen crying face.

“Are you okay?” He had concern laced in his voice as he got closer to you. That’s when he saw it.

“I-I’m sorry you have to see me like this, I gotta go” You tried to get inside your apartment, but he stopped you.

“Does your boyfriend have something to do with it?“

“Ex-boyfriend” You thought you saw a light smirk on his lips, but he quickly disguised it.

“Oh” He raised his brows “Well, if you need anything, I’m right across the hall” He smiled gently “I don’t know what happened, but I’m a good listener if you feel like blowing off some steam with a stranger”

“Thank you” You exhaled “It sounds like a good idea, but for now I think I just need some time alone you know, but thanks anyway”

He nodded with a sweet smile on his face and headed towards the elevator.

Once he was gone, you finally got inside your apartment and headed straight to the shower to get that heavy energy out of you. You wanted to clean everything that happened out of you, like the hot water running down your skin could wash away all of your sadness and erase your memories with your ex.

But as the shower went on, your thoughts about your ex subsided and everything you could think about was your neighbor. His alluring eyes, his strong masculine features, his black hair, his deep voice that sent shivers down your spine every time you heard it. You couldn’t help but imagine how he must look underneath his clothes. Just by how his clothes hugged his arms you knew he had a muscular body, but you wanted to see it with your own eyes.

It had been only a couple of hours since you caught the so-called “love of your life” cheating on you, but you were already fantasizing with another man and you didn’t feel bad or guilty about it.

Was it a desire you had from before that was only surfacing now?

Anyway you wouldn’t care. Till was the thing that made your terrible day lighter. When you got home to drown yourself in ice cream and sorrow, you met him and it washed away all those dreadful plans you had for the night.

And before you could realize, you found yourself standing at his doorstep with a bottle of wine in your hands. A couple of minutes passed since you rang his doorbell and you were already considering turning back home when he finally opened his door.

“Oh Y/N!” He smiled but your eyes went down to his half naked body “I’m sorry it took me too long, I just got out of the shower” He ran his fingers through his hair to take a few wet strands falling in front of his beautiful eyes.

Till had nothing but a white towel wrapped around his waist, revealing how well built he was for his age. The smell of his aftershave and male parfum were intoxicating as you reveled in the sight in front of you completely hypnotized. All you wanted to do at that moment was to feel him, to touch him, to taste him, and to rip that fucking towel off of him.

Yes, you had already forgotten you were sad and heartbroken.

“You said I could come by if I wanted to spend some time with a ‘stranger’” You finally broke the silence “And I thought some wine would be great as well” You motioned the bottle in your hands and with a smile on his face he took a couple of steps back allowing you inside his apartment.

“Please come in” You stepped inside his place. He closed the door behind you and disappeared in a corridor “I’ll put some clothes on, please make yourself at home!” You heard him from one of the rooms.

You sat on his gray couch and put the bottle of wine on top of the coffee table in the center. His apartment looked clean and tidy, and was very well decorated. The light wooden floor matched perfectly with his concrete walls and furniture in shades of brown and gray, a few plants and colorful paintings on the walls brought some color to the place.

“I’m sorry again for keeping you waiting” Till was now fully dressed in light gray sweatpants and black long-sleeved shirt.

“It’s okay I’m fine” You smiled at him as he grabbed the bottle of wine in front of you and headed to his kitchen, motioning with his head for you to follow him.

Till took two wine glasses from his cabinet and produced a corkscrew from one of the drawers, he uncorked the bottle and served you both almost half a glass each.

“Cheers to being single again!” You toasted and he followed you with a side smile.

“Looks like the sadness is gone already?”

“Yeah, I mean… I’m still sad, but I think I’m also relieved?” You hesitated with the words you chose.

“I think I know what you mean” He took a sip of his wine. God! How could someone look so hot just by drinking something? “Before we continue, have you eaten yet?”

“No”

“I’ll cook us something while you tell me everything, okay?”

“You better be a good cook because I’m very demanding when it comes to eating!”

“Is this a challenge?”

“You bet it is”

You both laughed and you told him everything that happened while he boiled potatoes to make fresh homemade gnocchi, then proceeded to chop some tomatoes, basil, onion and garlic for the sauce. As the gnocchi and the sauce were cooking, he prepared some steak to go along.

As he finished the food, you helped him settle the table with plates, cutlery, pot rests, your wine glasses and the wine bottle.

“It smells amazing, Till!” You exclaimed as he sat in front of you and served you both.

“I hope the taste matches its smell” He smirked.

You moaned unwittingly as you took the first bite, the sound grabbing his attention and making his mind have unholy thoughts about you on that dining table. But you didn’t realize any of that happening, the flavor explosions in your mouth making you roll your eyes back with such amazing food.

“This is SO good! I guess I’ll have to come over for dinner more often”

“Be my guest” He answered shortly, trying to erase those sinful thoughts out of his head “We’ve been neighbors for quite some time now, but we don’t know much about each other”

You nodded in agreement.

“What do you do for a living?” He asked, taking a sip of his wine.

“I’m a lawyer and I actually got a promotion today, and you?”

“Congratulations! I’m a singer”

“A singer? Really?” You asked surprised. You had no idea he was a singer, he was always so discreet about his life you could never imagine.

“Yes, I have a band called Rammstein” That name didn’t sound strange to you, but that was all you had.

“Oh I’m sorry, the name sounds a bit familiar, but I don’t think I ever heard you” You answered, embarrassment making your cheeks burn.

“It’s totally fine, Y/N, actually I appreciate the fact you don’t know who I am”

“Are you that big?”

“Quite”

“I’m curious, I wanna see and hear you, would you show me any of your songs, please??”

He seemed to consider your idea for a couple of seconds before obliging.

“Let’s finish our dinner first” He giggled “Some lyrics might not be appropriate for this moment”

“Now you got me extra curious”

Just as you finished eating, you put your plates in the dishwasher while Till turned on the tv in his living room and searched for one of his band’s live concerts.

“Can I choose?” You asked as you sat on the couch by his side and he nodded “Rammstein live in Paris? Madison Square Garden? I had no idea my neighbor was a fucking international rockstar…” You kept scrolling down the endless list of videos.

“I’m worried about what you are going to choose” He giggled lightly as a faint blush appeared on his face.

“Why’s that?”

“You’ll have to find out by yourself” He glanced at you sideways with a mischievous smirk on his face.

“Okay, I want to watch Ich Tu Dir Weh”

He chuckled as he heard your choice, but at the same time it was going to be interesting to watch your reactions to his songs.

The song began and you started to headbang unconsciously as you got carried away with the rhythm, you weren’t sure why you hadn’t listened to them before. You couldn’t believe your quiet and reserved neighbor was that same intimidating and energetic man onstage. 

But you were caught completely off guard when Till started singing, his deep beautiful hauntingly voice sent shivers down your spine and the sadomasochistic lyrics took your breath away as you got terribly and unexpectedly turned on. And why did that black eyeliner and lipstick made him look even hotter? Not to mention his clothes that highlighted his strong chiseled arms.

Till watched you watching him attentively, curious about what your reaction would be and he didn’t miss how you bit your bottom lip and crossed your legs tightly as the video went on. He was afraid you’d get scared or even disgusted, instead he saw you get horny by his performance and that turned him on as well.

“Damn!” You exclaimed as the song ended and his deep chuckle made you shiver.

“What did you think?”

‘Please hurt and humiliate me’ - You thought to yourself.

“I loved it! It was very… Intense…”

“Intense?”

“Yeah” You took the last of your wine in a single gulp “And I had no idea you were such and amazing and talented singer, Till, you’ve got a new fan now”

“Thank you, Y/N”

“I want to watch more”

“More wine then?”

“I’m feeling a little tipsy already, but yes, please!”

Till took another bottle of wine out of his small wine closet and filled your glasses one more time as you got up to dance to their songs now randomly selected by youtube.

“Join me”

You drank and danced to this band’s songs, you never thought metal was danceable, but you felt the need to dance and headbang and sway your hips, you just couldn’t stay still and Till watched you with amused eyes.

“And here I was thinking you said you liked our songs just to please me” He joked as he watched you sway your hips to Ich Will.

“I would never! Plus I know more interesting ways to please you” You blinked at him as you took the last sip of your wine and spun around, your suggestive words making him lick his lips unconsciously and his blood run south.

Two could play that game.

“Now I’m curious to know more about your interesting ways” 

“I’m not telling them” You answered him, your faces now just inches apart as you rested both arms on his shoulders to dance with him.

The sexual tension between you hang heavy on the air as you held your lustful gazes, one waiting for the other to take the next step. He watched you turn around and bend over in front of him to put your empty glass on the coffee table and when you got back up he took the opportunity to bring your body closer to his by your waist and whispered in your ear.

“Oh yeah? And why’s that?” His deep voice and his hot breath tickling your neck soaked your panties instantly.

You gasped when you felt your ass brushing against his hard member, the size of his bulge making you gulp at the thought of how big he seemed to be.

Ignoring your light distraction, you finally answered him.

“Because I’m showing them” You reached back with one of your hands and rubbed his shaft over his sweatpants, the unexpected stimulation making him jerk his hips forward.

You turned back around and pushed him by his chest slamming him on the couch before straddling and kissing him. One of Till’s hands squeezed your thigh as the other entangled in your hair, pulling it at the same time he brought you closer to him, making you moan lightly and give full access for his tongue to explore your mouth.

You ran your hands over his strong arms and then down his torso, eager to take his shirt off to finally feel his bare body with your own hands. Till captured your bottom lip with his teeth biting it, then ran his tongue over it to soothe the slightly swollen flesch, inflaming your arousal as you ground yourself against his hard erection. He slid both his hands under your shirt, forcing you to grind against him once again as he squeezed your waist hard.

Till kissed you intensely as he lifted your shirt by its hemline, only parting your frantic lips to take the shirt off your head, revealing your naked breasts right at his eye level.

“They’re so beautiful” He cupped your breasts, big enough to fit in his hands “You are so beautiful”

His beautiful blue eyes met yours in an intense lustful gaze and he unexpectedly pinched your nipples between his fingers to watch your reaction as an erotic sound escaped your lips. Till left a trail of kisses from your lips to your chin, along the jawline to the neck, where he licked and bit lightly, quickly finding your sweet spot right under your ear, sucking it harshly to whip another delicious moan out of you.

“I’ve dreamt about having you since the first time I laid my eyes on you, Y/N”

You took the pause to take his shirt off.

“I’ve always wanted you too, I was in a relationship, but I was never blind” You gasped as his smiling lips traveled down your collarbone to the valley of your breasts. 

The cold air caressed your exposed skin, but your body felt so hot under his touches, his rough hands running up and down your curves and groping your breasts as his mouth divided its attention between them. He rolled his tongue over your sensitive nipples before blowing his breath on top of it and then sucked and bit them gently, making you squirm against him looking for more friction on your aching core, your fingernails grazing his nape as he kept working on your chest.

You were so lost in how he was almost sending you over the edge just by working on your breasts, you missed one of his hands slipping inside your pants and underwear, his skilled fingers sliding over your folds collecting your wetness and then back to your clit, applying a delicious amount of pressure on it, taking a huge gasp out of your lungs as he rolled his digits over your swollen bud.

Till kept working on your tender globes with his mouth, one of his hands snaked around your body to grip your ass as the other increased its speed and pressure on your clit according to the sound of your own moans.

Your orgasm built on your lower stomach and you started to rock yourself against his hand chasing your own release, when he suddenly bit one of your nipples and pushed two fingers inside you, making you scream his name as he started to pump and curl his fingers in and out of you while his thumb was now working on your clit. His fingers rubbed your g-spot with each stroke, those wonderful sensations making the knot on your lower stomach get ready to explode at any second. And when you were about to get there he stopped, edging you on purpose.

“Please!” You begged, frustrated while Till had a devious grin on his face.

“Work for it”

He took his fingers out of you and brought them to his lips, lapping every drop of your juices, his eyes never leaving yours as he tasted your arousal with an erotic expression.

“Can’t wait to taste it again”

You slammed your lips against his, tasting yourself on his tongue as you grazed your fingernails down his chest and abs, quickly reaching his sweatpants’ waistband, pulling it down along with his underwear while you knelt down in front of him on the ground.

You blinked at the sight before you when his big and thick manhood finally sprung out, rock hard, sprawled on his abs in all its glory. The look on your face made him get impossibly harder.

“Can’t take it?” He teased as you accommodated yourself between his legs.

“You bet I can”

His eyes darkened as you took his dick on your hand, jerking him off as you spread his precum all over his tip and length and then licked your lips, wetting them to suck him. His muscles tensed as you teased him, trailing kisses on his inner thighs taking your lips closer and closer to where he needed them the most.

He hissed when you finally slid your tongue flat all the way up on his underside from his base to the tip, taking some extra time on his frenulum, flicking your tongue back and forth on the extremely sensitive area, before sucking his tip into your mouth and licking all of his precum, your gaze never breaking away from his and the sight drove him insane.

Till groaned and grabbed a fistful of your hair as you swirl your tongue around his tip and down his length, sucking it eagerly every time you bobbed your head back, making him throw his head back as he clenched his teeth and tightened the grip on your hair as you did so. You drove him further inside your mouth each time, using your hand to stimulate the part you couldn’t fit yet and when his dick finally reached your throat, he moaned and automatically jerked his hips forward, making you take all of him at once, and to his surprise you didn’t complain, instead looked at him with a daring look on your watering eyes.

“No gag reflex?” He asked, a bit breathless.

“Fuck my face, Till”

“Oh fuck me”

He slammed his dick in the back of your throat, setting his own pace, his cock pulsing inside your mouth, ready to cum at any second when you suddenly pulled your mouth away from him, edging him just like he’d done to you minutes before.

“Y/N!”

Till’s front door thumped loudly as you both heard muffled screams of your name coming from outside. It was your ex-boyfriend yelling after you desperately.

“Y/N! I KNOW YOU’RE THERE!”

Ignoring his screams, Till pulled you from the ground crashing your lips and in a blink you were laid on the couch underneath him.

“Sure you wanna do this?” He asked before taking off your pants and panties all at once.

“Yes, please! I need you inside me now!” You whined as he quickly undressed you and then positioned himself between your legs.

“There’s just one thing I must warn you…”

He rubbed himself against your folds, teasing your clit and your entrance with his shaft as your ex-boyfriend kept calling you, banging on his door.

“What?”

“I don’t do gentle”

You screamed as he penetrated you, pushing himself all at once, stretching your tight walls as he sunk his shaft deep inside of you. You clawed his back and bit his shoulder as he put one of your legs on his shoulder and filled you up to the hilt, fitting all of his length inside you. 

His pounding was rough and intense, giving you no time to adjust to his thickness and length, and his dick rubbed your spongy magic place that drove you insane with each thrust, making you roll your eyes back and moan uncontrollably.

Till knew you were getting close to your orgasm again as he felt your walls clenching around him, making it extra painful to hold his own release back. In a swift motion, he got out of you and put you on your knees on the couch, your back exposed to him as you braced yourself on the back of the couch.

He pushed himself inside you again this time rougher than before, your body jolting forward as he did so. With one of his hands he held you in place by your hips while the other snaked its way around your throat, leaning his body forward for extra physical contact. A symphony of loud moaning and skin slapping resonated throughout the whole floor as he thrusted violently in and out of you.

His lips brushed your ear and his relentless fucking along with the sound of his sinful grunts on your ear made you explode with the most intense climax you’d ever had in your life, powerful electric waves running though your veins, making your whole body tremble as he rode out your orgasm before quickly pulling out of you to have his own release, cumming on your ass and back.

You collapsed on the back of his couch as Till still hugged you and spread a trail of kisses on your nape, back and shoulders.

“Y/N!” Your ex called again, this time sounding even more desperate and exhausted.

“OH JAMES! YOU HAVE NO IDEA JUST HOW GOOD HE FUCKED ME!” You yelled back earning Till’s chuckle.

“Actually I guess the whole building might have heard how good I fucked you, Y/N”

#fanfic #till lindemann #till #ramms+ein #rammstein #romance #rock #smut #self insert

[fxnofthxngs]

"Lust auf Dich" (Lust for You) Oneshot

Here it is!! My spicy and smutty oneshot that has taken me FOREVER to finish! Starring a female reader and our favorite handsome German masochist, Till Lindemann himself. Enjoy!

(⚠️ Content warning: swearing, smut, sexual themes, brief relationship tension ⚠️)

“No.” Till’s deep, baritone voice sent a chill down your spine, as only his East German accent could, his cerulean eyes darkening and brows furrowing as he sat on the edge of the queen-sized bed. He and his long-term partner, you, of about a year had been staying in a modest hotel in Berlin, on a short vacation after both of you had been quite stressed with work lately.

“Till, come on, don’t do this,” You replied while rolling your eyes, slowly shaking your head as you stood across the room from him, leaning against the wall with tightly folded arms. Your hair bounced slightly with the movement of your head, and your right foot had inadvertently begun tapping incessantly against the floor with your growing anxiety.

“Nein, das tust du nicht. (No, you don’t do this.)“ He snapped back with a slight curl of his upper lip, a small chuckle of disbelief escaping his lips while he ran his hands over the dyed blonde locks on his head.

“Oh, verdammt noch mal – (Oh, for f*ck’s sake) I told you it would be just a month! Do you not trust me to be by myself?” 

You retorted, a simmering anger coursing through your veins as you narrowed your eyes and glared over at your lover. At that point, Till rose from the bed and stalked over to where you remained leaning against the wall beside the door, stopping just in front of you. You did not budge an inch, merely dropping your arms to your sides as you sized him up. Till smirked with a sense of disdain, pressing one hand against the wall beside your head, the other lovingly cupping your cheek with his larger, calloused hand. 

“What if I could arrange for you to get some extra sick days off work? That way, you wouldn’t have to go anywhere, and you could stay here.” He whispered, in a tone that dripped with the kind of lust and honey only reserved for you to hear. 

You immediately widened your eyes, cocking your head slowly to the side, debating the option being presented to you. On the one hand, you would have preferred to physically be at your workplace, despite it being a stifling and stuffy office job, where you practically sat at your desk for 8 hours a day. Also, it would be nice to visit your family for the first time in almost two months, since your parents were getting older and you worried about them being on their own, despite their reassurances they were fine and didn’t want you to stress over them. 

However, you simply could not resist entertaining the idea of getting to stay in Germany with the man you loved so dearly, not needing to worry about eating the same bagged lunch every afternoon and being subjected to the inevitable boredom that came with in-person business meetings and the seemingly never-ending influx of customer calls. After a beat or two of tense but comfortable silence between the two of you, you smirked back up at him and raised your chin, almost like you were trying to appear taller than him.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, gutaussehend (handsome)...” You whispered, licking your delicate lips mere seconds before Till lifted you in his arms, allowing you to hastily wrap your legs around his waist. Grabbing a fistful of his hair with one hand, and hooking the opposite arm around his neck, you smashed your lips against his and he quickly returned the favor. Till held you up against the wall, one hand supporting your butt and the other clawing down your clothed back, showcasing his insatiable need to have you right then and there. The room, being dimly lit by several warm wall-mounted light fixtures held up by intricate brass fixtures, was quickly being filled with the sound of desperate, breathy moans, and the sloppy wet kisses between both lovers.

“Till … bed –” You breathed out softly, your brows worrying with desperation in reaction to the rocker harshly bucking his clothed hips and bulge against your clothed mound. He only gave a quick nod of acknowledgment to your words, turning you both around and carrying you swiftly over to the crisp white sheets. Laying you down, your head gently hit the pillows as he kicked off his boots and hurriedly pulled off your sneakers, keeping his much taller frame hovered over yours.

Till pulled his lips away from yours, leaving you to whimper softly at the temporary loss of contact. Throwing off his military-style show jacket , with his shirt quickly following, both items hit the carpeted floor below. You followed suit, tearing off your own shirt, and hurrying to unclasp your bra before tossing those down, adding to the small pile of clothes on the floor. 

“Du bist sündig, weißt du das...?" (You are sinful, you know that…?“)

He groaned huskily, laughing and quickly diving down to encircle you in his loving grasp once more, continuing the bruising yet blissful kiss. Before long, Till grabbed hold of the waistline of your sweatpants, shimmying them and your already damp panties, down your legs and throwing them off of you without a second thought. You let out a small yelp at the feeling of your body now being completely bare for him to see and do whatever he so desired. Bending your legs at the knees, Till licked his lips hungrily before grabbing hold of both your kneecaps and spreading your legs apart.

“Mhm.. please..” You whined under your breath, loud enough for him to hear though as he got to work unbuckling his belt and discarding it, with his pants and underwear being the last to go before both of you were naked and on full display for one another. Climbing fully back on top of you, Till began desperately kissing your lips once more, holding your face while simultaneously reaching down to your core. Holding his finger to his lips, he spits on his index finger before pushing it as deep inside you as he could go, curling it upwards and flicking against the spongy flesh that drove you wild. You immediately threw your head back, biting down on your bottom lip and squeezing your eyes shut, gripping the pillow while your other hand flew down to grip the sheets. “Oh m – h-harder!” 

Till chuckled and grunted hoarsely, his voice sounding more animalistic and primal than anything else. Your commands did nothing to quell the aching and throbbing pain that had a chokehold on his cock, which he did his best to ignore as he inserted yet another large finger inside of you, roughly punishing your pussy, even faster and harder now. All your ears could hear at that point, besides your already hitched and heavy breathing, was the squelching of your juices as he smacked one of your breasts across the nipple, causing a harsh sting that made you cry with pleasure. 

“FUCK! T-Till..” You cried, feeling the familiar tightening of the coil in your abdomen that always began to wound up just before an orgasm. Speaking of, just before you could allow yourself to let go all over his fingers, he wagged his finger in your direction and pulled them out, to which you responded by groaning with irritation and opening your eyes to glare at him. He merely just kept that devilishly handsome grin plastered on his face, and at that point you propped yourself up on your elbows, opening your mouth to speak. Watching his spit on his cock, he began stroking it rapidly, and you felt your mouth watering at the sight of just how big he was, despite having had sex with him on numerous occasions before.

“Shh, shh, Meine Liebe.. You do not need to do anything for me, today, you only need to lean back and relax, kannst du das für mich tun (can you do that for me)...?” He cooed in one of the sweetest voices you had ever heard from him, nodding your head carefully while dreamily smiling up at him. Lying all the way back down, you got yourself as comfortable as you could while Till crawled all the way on top of you, still holding himself in his hand and not breaking eye contact with you once. You gasped sharply and felt your pussy squeeze around nothing, at the sensation of him slapping your sensitive clit with the tip of his cock, grunting at just how painfully hard he was now.

“Breathe.. For me..” Till whispered into your ear, taking note of your deep and shaky inhale, while nibbling affectionately on your ear lobe as you ran your hands up his back, anticipating the inevitable intrusion of his monstrous dick inside you. Finally, he began pushing himself all the way inside, slowly and carefully to allow you a moment to adjust to his size, which these days was a pleasureful and delicious feeling of being filled. Of course, the first time the two of you had decided to consummate your passion-fueled relationship, the stretch and burn of his dick penetrating you was so intense, to the point where you nearly passed out from euphoria, before he had even gotten all of his length into you.

Now, you were usually the first to initiate the intrusion, whether it be riding him cowgirl-style and sinking down slowly onto his length, or getting down on all fours taking charge, reaching behind you to practically force him into you, which always turned him on more than he’d care to admit.

At first, his thrusts were slow and seemed to drag on, always nervous about harming you or taking his lust a step too far. After all, the heated argument you’d had moments before had irritated and angered both of you, despite having found a peaceful resolution to the conflict. However, you were not shy to let him know you needed all of him right now, wrapping both legs instinctively around his waist and bringing him even deeper inside of you. “Harder, p-please..!” You cried out, throwing your head back against the soft pillows, just as Till let out a low and guttural growl, feeling his dick get even more sensitive at the feeling of the inside of your ribbed pussy clenching hopelessly to him. His thrusts quickly picked up in speed and force, the head of his cock was now pounding against your cervix, as both of you became more frantic and desperate to be completely entangled in one another and reach the pinnacle of this intimate moment. By now, it seemed impossible to tell where one of your bodies began and where his ended, your bodies meshing messily together.

“Till, I - I’m close! Fuck!” You yelped, with tears of pleasure brimming in your eyes as you dug your nails firmly into his back and kept a grip on his skin so tight, you were sure you’d leave a mark or two.

"Scheisse.. Noch nicht (Shit, not yet). I want you to cum on my cock, while I fuck my cum up into you, ja..?” He hissed through gritted teeth, using both of his hands to grip bruisingly hard onto your hips, taking full control and staring lovingly down into your eyes, your gaze meeting his as your mouth hung wide open. Pressing his forehead against yours, neither one of you could deny how damn good it felt to have each other like this. Raw, animalistic fucking that felt like the first time, each time.

With the tightening band in your lower belly threatening to snap at any moment, you threw your hand into his hair, grabbing a fistful and holding on for dear life. Till was close too, you could tell by the way he nuzzled his face into the crook between your neck and shoulder, kissing and sucking on the skin there like a desperate man dying of thirst.

Staring up into his lust-filled eyes, your mouth, tiny beads of sweat sprinting down your back and forehead, you could tell he was fighting the inevitable urge to cum right then and there, clearly trying to hold out for as long as he could. His brows were furrowed with determination, inching closer and closer to reaching the ultimate goal of both of you reaching the climax of your intimacy at the same time. As your toes curled together, you felt Till swipe some of your dampened hair from your forehead, wet from the sweat that had collected there before he planted a loving and carefully placed peck on your cheek. 

“Babe, please – I’m s-so close..I-I’m gonna c-cum!” You whined with delight as if you were drowning in a deep ocean of ultimate delirium and euphoria that you did not want to come up for air from. 

“Verdammte Scheiße (fucking shit)..! Me too, ah ah.. so eng, so gut (so tight, so good)..” He breathed out laboriously, reaching the pinnacle of just how hard and fast he could thrust his aching length inside of you, his languid movements now becoming slightly haphazard. By that point, you began yelling out at the sensation of your imminent orgasm, followed by a desperate moan that was swallowed up by Till placing his lips onto yours and kissing you with a heightened fervor, both of your tongues dancing in a desirous oral tango. Your heart was hammering like a drill against the forefront of your chest, and you could have sworn you could hear the blood pumping in your ears. At last, you felt that ever-winding cord in your belly finally give way, snapping like a weak twig as you felt your pussy clench and your juices gushing forth and all over Till’s cock.

This set off his own orgasm, before which he let out one final animalistic roar of relief as he gave three more harsh, pounding thrusts into you, before his hot seed sprayed forth from his reddened tip, kicking deep within your walls and painting them white. Just then, he exhaled loudly and collapsed on top of you, burying his face into the crook of your neck and leaving slow, sensual kisses on the skin there. 

Placing one of your hands on the back of Till’s neck, while the other began tracing invisible shapes on his chest, you both took the precious few moments of post-orgasmic bliss to catch your breath and allow your hearts to slow down to their normal resting rates. Slowly, you unwrapped your legs from his body and allowed them to rest on the bed, while Till let out a hearty chuckle and kissed your nose before rolling off of you, both of you hissing at the feeling of his cock sliding out of your soaked and sensitive walls. Sitting up slightly, he ran his fingers through his platinum blonde hair and clicked his tongue, while you promptly sat up as well and crawled up beside him, draping one leg over both of his and resting your head on his chest. Listening to his heart was usually something you did when you needed to relax or calm down, and Till would always indulge you by stroking your hair and kissing your head, even singing softly in German if you asked him to.

“How are you doing, Mein Liebling (my darling)..?” He cooed into your hair, his voice dripping with that sickly sweet affection that made your heart flutter like an over energized butterfly, and sent a familiar pang of want down to your core.

“Good, good, you always know just how to help me relax..” You replied, playfully smirking up at him.

“If you’d like, we could find some other ways to relax.” He challenged huskily, licking his lips and dipping his lips back down to meet with yours, kissing you softly and leaving you wanting to go for round two right then.

“Shh, now now, mister, let’s rest for a little bit before we think about that, ja (yes)…?” You teased, pulling your lips from his, with a sultry expression painted over your face. Till nodded slowly and laughed quietly, as he was usually the one who had to tame you and remind you he was not as young as he used to be. With both of you lying there, a mess of limbs, evaporating sweat, and relaxed breathing, you closed your eyes and within a few minutes you had fallen peacefully asleep.

Just before you drifted into unconsciousness, you could have sworn you heard him whisper sweetly into your ear ”Ich habe Lust auf dich, nur auf dich (I lust for you, only you)…“

#rammstein #rammstein fanfic #till lindemann #lindemann band

[notcorystyles]

Meine Liebe brennt für deine Seele

(Till Lindamann x Gender neutral reader)

Story includes light fluff and soft smut.

18+

———

Till Lindemann was the lead singer of Rammstein, the band that (y/n) had been obsessed with since high school. They had seen the band in concert several times, but it wasn't until one in person meet with Till that they fall for him.

It was a chance encounter at a hotel bar in Berlin. (Y/n) was there on vacation with their friends, and Till was in town for a concert. They struck up a conversation over drinks, and (y/n) was immediately drawn to Till's charisma and charm. The way he would laugh, hold his breath every time he would wait for (y/n) to talk. He was drawn to ever word they would say, almost like it was an adventure each time the topic would change.

They both spent the night talking and laughing, and (y/n) couldn't believe their luck. They were falling for Till, and they knew that they needed to see him again.

Over the next few weeks, they kept in touch via phone and text messages. Till was on tour, but he made time for (y/n) whenever he could. They talked about everything from music to dreams, and (y/n) felt like they had finally found someone who understood them.

When Till came back to town for another concert, he invited (y/n) to come backstage and hang out with the band. They were thrilled, and spent the night chatting with Till and the other band members. (Y/n) sat close near Till the entire night, there were so many laughs going around backstage.

As time went on (y/n) began to become tired and started to fall asleep. Trying desperately to keep the moment alive as they didn’t know when this would ever happen again.

Till noticed how tired (y/n) was from hanging out with the band. He suggested that they leave the backstage area and head back to Tills hotel room. (Y/n) was grateful for the suggestion, as they were feeling drained from the long night.

As they walked back to the hotel, Till put his arm around (y/n) shoulders, pulling them close to him. They felt safe and protected, and their tiredness began to melt away.

Till leaned in and kissed Marie softly on the lips. She responded eagerly, and they kissed passionately for a long time. Till's hands roamed over Marie's body, and she moaned softly as he kissed her neck.

They moved to the bedroom, where they continued to explore each other's bodies. Till was gentle and attentive, and Marie felt like she was in heaven. They made love for hours, exploring each other's desires and fulfilling each other's fantasies.

As the sun began to rise, Till and (y/n) lay in bed, exhausted but happy. They held each other tightly, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking.

#till lindemann #rammstein #fanfic #x reader #gender neutral pronouns #gender neutral insert #gender neutral y/n #Till lindamann x reader

[lullabyes22-blog]

Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO - Ch: 11 - Handshake

Summary: Zaun is free—and must grow into its unfamiliar new dimensions. So must Silco and Jinx. A what-if that diverges midway through the events of episode 8. Found family and fluff, politics and power, smut and slice-of-life, villainy and vengeance.

AO3 - Forward, But Never Forget/XOXO

FFnet - Forward, But Never Forget (XOXO)

Playlist on Youtube

Chapters: 1| 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48

CH 11: Vi and Silco share a dinner and strike a bargain.

A red band unfailingly unites us

~ "Blut" – Till Lindemann (Translation)

The flare-gun blasts skyward.

Its tracer explodes into a shimmering sphere, a dying sun in the night. It douses the acre-wide impound in a blood-red glow. Shaped like the spokes of a wheel: six warehouses funneling into a concave central hub that must've once been a wrecking pit. Steel girders bisect the inky backdrop of the sky. Strobelights fitted on telescopic tripods chase multicolored pinwheels on the walls and floors.

The place is a hotbed of debauchery.

The impound is packed with party-goers. Tatted-up bikers showboat on glammed-up crotch rockets. A crew of girls sweep across the concrete in wide arcs, tires screeching and rubber burning. One performs a stoppie, riding on her front tire with both rear-ends high in the air, flashing gold thong and silver chrome. In brightly-lit marquees with pure oxygen filters, well-heeled chem-barons schmooze between sips of martinis. On buffet tables, trays are garnished with multicolored hors-d'oeuvre, platters of shrimp suzette and crawfish étouffée crowded against elaborately-designed fruit platters glistening with syrup.

Music throbs so hard that the vibrations judder through the air. Dancers with bedazzled bodies in deluxe costumes undulate on ramps. Two androgynous performers strut in the halogen lights with scissoring steps timed to the beat. Chem-punks splice through the crowd on hoverboards, wearing too much make-up and jewelry and laughing too loudly. From the distance come the intermittent riot of gangs scarring the concrete in juiced-up musclecars in breakneck races. The air reeks of ganja, spilled liquor, gasoline, barbecued meat.

And blood.

Vi swallows. Her throat makes a dry click; she badly wants a drink.

Except the suds are probably poisoned.

She sits shackled like a Stillwater prisoner: leg irons and wrist manacles, each one hooked to a rung on her seat. She supposes she ought to be grateful she's not in sweltering heat or blistering cold.

The temperature inside Silco's marquee tent is perfectly controlled, and scented with something that may as well be Eau de Chingching. The interior is black as an oil-spill and just as sleek. Low mood lighting; luxury furnishings. The space is halved by a sleek screen: one portion reserved for private quarters, the other for a glossy minibar and a banquette as well-appointed as any five-star restaurant. The tent's flaps are peeled back to take in the chaos unfolding across the impound.

An Undercity gala on steroids.

The biggest commotion is at the fighting-pit. It is roughly twenty meters in size; sunken like a skateboard rink and splattered as a charnel pit. At least six dozen spectators range around the sawhorses that block it off. Neon discs are strung at the rims: cotton-candy pinks and toxic-sludge greens. The flashing lights distort the spectator's faces into carnival grotesqueries. A pack of deranged clowns waving fistfuls of coins.

In the center of the pit, two brindle-coated rotties—Ziggy and Stardust—toe the scratch against a black cane-corso mastiff the size of a bear. Its eyes are sunk like embers inside its wrinkle-pitted face. The points of its canines extrude in a vicious leer.

Silco's goons, clumped outside the marquee, place bets.

"Ugly bastard," Lock grunts.

"The Bilgewater ambassador's moneymaker," Ran says, crouched on a rusted turbine. "Cthulhu."

"Gesundheit."

"No." Ran enunciates slowly. "Kuh-thoo-loo. That's his name."

Dustin drums his kneecaps with the hilts of two bone-handled blades: dum-dum-dap. "How much is Bilgewater wagerin'?"

"Three year's supply of rainbow trout," says Lock. "And their best kegs of rum."

Dustin whistles, his head swaying back and forth as if on a gyre. Ran tips a feline smile. "Sucks to be Bilgewater."

Lock cracks his knuckles "Ziggy and Stardust ain't just game. They're dead game."

"Seventy Hexes on them ending the fight in twenty minutes," Ran says.

"Ninety if they draw first blood."

"Pfff. You expect to see blood for a cog."

"Best of three, then?"

"Doubt there'll be a rematch."

"Let's set a fixed time. Say, twelve minutes? And see which rottie draws blood first?"

"Deal."

They spit in their palms, sumpside-style. Lock's huge fist envelopes Ran's metal-silvered paw.  A Spit Swear, the lite version of the Blood Bargain.

The kind of oath you don't break without breaking your neck.

Behind the marquee's screen, Silco's baritone scrapes the silence: "Razor the dogs."

The three goons lose their nonchalant attitudes, a Pavlovian snap of spines straightening. Lock gives a four-fingered hand signal to a girl perched at the guard-post. She stands ready with a flare gun, her hips shot to one side, taking puffs from a cheroot so thick it'd take a year to finish. At Lock's signal, she nods. Her gun-hand goes up. The flare upspirals to burst like a volcano.

The game begins.

The dogs are chivvied toward the scratch line. Ziggy and Stardust move in tandem: a liquid flow of muscle. Cthulu cuts forward like a ballistic missile. The dogs' noses touch. Stardust licks Ziggy's snout; Cthulu's jowls ripple. The dogs' handlers withdraw their blades—Zaun's girl a butterfly knife from her boot, Bilgewater's man a short, wickedly-curved cutlass from his belt. The slit a shallow gash into the dogs' flanks.

Fingers wetted with the blood, they smear it across their own dog's nose, then the challenger's. Cthulu snuffles and lets off a frenzied bark, red droplets spraying. Ziggy and Stardust go still as statues, their teeth daggering, a wicked red luminosity entering their eyes. The blood mainlines like adrenaline into their systems.

"Fuck," Lock says with admiration. "They're practically gagging for it."

The handlers yank the dogs to their corners, hands white-knuckling against their scruffs. The dogs' bodies give off an inexorable ferocity. Ringed around the fighting-pit, the rogue's gallery hurls cheers and insults. They seem no different from the dogs: the bloodsport whets their appetites into mania.

The flare gun ignites a third time.

The handlers drop their charges and clamber out of the fighting-pit. The dogs fly at each other as if catapulted. The impact is brutal. Ziggy and Stardust pounce in tandem, with terrifying synchronicity. Cthulhu bulldozes straight at them. They flatten as one, letting his massive shape sail overtop. Their heads twist and rip into Cthulhu's flanks on either side. Teeth leave oozing half-moons in the fur. Cthulhu snarls, angling himself away, mere inches from the pair's gnashing teeth. Next he is bulling forward, using his superior bulk to back Ziggy and Stardust into a corner, batting at them with his ferocious forepaws, his fanged head arrowing towards the nearest dog's throat.

The pair feint gamely. But it is a calculated carnage. Wherever Cthulu's skull darts and comes away, a shiny pink divot is left behind on Ziggy or Stardust's pelts. Next, it fills with blood and splatters the concrete. The music is ripped apart by shrill yowls. Likewise, the crowd's din spikes into a foghorn. Dismay; delight.

"That's it, Cthu! Atta boy!"

"Get at him, Ziggy! C'mon!"

"Rip their fuckin' heads off!"

"Yeah, Star! Bite him!"

The bloodbath sears itself into Vi's retinas. She feels sick deep in her guts. She's seen a lot of shit. Poverty, prostitution, prison brawls. But this blows everything out of the water.

A lean shadow falls over Vi's chair.

"Not fond of hounds?"

From behind the screen, Silco slithers out. Sevika lumbers after him. They'd been conversing in low tones inside his quarters. Vi couldn't hear what they were saying. Now she realizes they were watching her. Silco's eyes glitter darkly, drinking in her distress. Behind him, Sevika's expression is stony as a Marwian idol, but with a tiny sneer on her lips.

Vi sets her jaw.

She's out of her depth. Alone and unarmed. But she isn't scared. It will be a cold day in hell if she's scared of anything after Stillwater.

Even a monster whose motivations defy logic.

She says, "Rabid types aren't my thing."

Silco eyes her speculatively. "They have their uses."

"As entertainment? Or meat shields?"

"Whichever comes first."

Vi hooks her chin toward Sevika. "That why you've got her on a leash? Or—wait." She glances pityingly at Silco. "Is she your seeing-eye mutt?"

Sevika's eyes snap hotly to Vi's. She seems to be debating a riposte, the physical type. But something in Silco's sideways glance—an idle warning—defuses her temper.

Leaning in, she mutters in Silco's ear. His lips twist at the edges. The shark-eye gleams, merciless.

"Half and half," he says.

"Half now. Half later."

"Settled."

He offers his hand: a sharp-jointed a talon. Sevika clasps it in her own.

Vi notes the grip. It doesn't resemble the friendly handshake between Ran and Lock. This is loaded with sinisterness. For the first time, she wonders about their history. Side by side, their affiliation makes no sense except for the obvious: money and power. Beyond that, they are two very different animals: scavenger and predator. Sevika with her rough-and-tumble attitude, all brutish gimcrack and straight-shooting snark; Silco an unsettlingly scaly enigma of well-soaped wit and scalpel-edged schemes.

Yet she senses a mutual respect, if not a fealty. What the hell is their endgame?

Vi snaps, "You two done being skeevy?"

They don't even glance at Vi. The consensus of scorn needs no speech.

Silco slides into the banquette seat. Sevika sets a large serving platter with a silver lid in front of him. By this time, it's probably lost most of its heat. Still, when the platter is unveiled, a delicious aroma suffuses the air. Vi fights the raw squelch of hunger. She braces herself to stare at over-the-top exotica and rich delicacies.

But the contents are surprisingly simple. A bowl of creamed soup sprinkled with tiny herbs. A large green salad. A butter-seared clutch of crawfish with twinkling heaps of potatoes, peas and carrots.

Sevika doles out the crawfish and a big spoonful of vegetables into a plate. Her expression is deadpan. Yet her body-language isn't that of a servile hostess. Freaky as hell though it seems, Vi is reminded of Caitlyn. The way she boils Vi a cup of tea after a hard day's work. Sometimes Vi teases her for getting all sweetly domestic. Playing wifey again?

Caitlyn always arches an eyebrow: Only because you can't brew tea to save your life.

Bittersweetness nearly escapes the tight clench of Vi's heart. She inhales sharply. She needs to stay alert.

Stay alive.

Sevika untwists a bottle of whiskey from the minibar. Vi can't see the label, but she's sure it's something pricey. The other woman pours a stiff belt into two glasses, and cocks her head at Vi. "You still like a splash of cherry soda in yours?"

Vi grimaces. "I wouldn't touch anything here with a ten-foot pole."

"Suit yourself." Sevika's tone modulates. "Sir?"

Silco makes a dry moue. "Sugaring up good whiskey?"

"I've got simple tastes."

"To the manner born, as they say."

"You didn't grow up sipping top-shelf hooch, either."

A wry little smile plays on Silco's lips. "Look forward, not backward."

"But never forget."

They clink glasses. Sevika downs hers like a shot; Silco sips his own with a savoring slowness.

Vi's throat itches. She almost regrets refusing a glass.

Almost.

Sevika crosses to the tent's entrance. Stops, and cuts her eyes from Vi to Silco. It is almost a question. Silco makes a three-fingered hand signal. Sevika nods. The flap falls closed on her retreating shape. The dogfight's furor muffles. A chill descends from Vi's skull down to her toes. She is alone.

Just her and the monster.

Silco's face is inscrutable as he surveys his meal. He might be inspecting a raw carcass on a slab. Then he does something unexpected. Something Vander used to do. He sits back and balances the plate on his knees. Ignoring the silverware, he begins rapidly transferring the food to his mouth with his fingers.

At Vi's stare, he offers an upticked eyebrow, "Excuse me. My stomach thinks my throat's cut."

My stomach thinks my throat's cut.

That was Vander's favorite saying. It meant: I'm starving. Powder always found it hilarious. Everytime she heard it, she'd wrap her hands around her throat, pretending to stanch a gaping hole with high-pitched sound effects. Gak! Blurgle! Pteh! The memory goes through Vi on a reflux of grief.

Her own stomach, meanwhile, switches places with her brain.

Urrrggh, it gurgles.

Silco stops, a roast potato halfway to his mouth. He tricks out a sly smile. "You're no better."

"Shut up."

"Are you hungry?"

Vi refuses to answer. Point of fact? Fuck yes. She'd been keyed up since yesterday night, and barely kept down her breakfast this morning. Now, between the after-effects of a fistfight, psychological anguish and adrenaline, she's redlining into collapse. Her body demands fuel to keep carrying on. But pragmatism wrestles with pride. How can she break bread with a man who killed one half of her family, and destroyed the other?

Silco says, "Shall I uncuff you?"

Vi blinks.

Silco pops another roast potato in his mouth. "Shall I uncuff you to eat? You've no reason to misbehave. The odds are stacked against you. The guards. The weapons. The crowd."

"Suppose I take my chances?"

"Too many witnesses."

"Good for corroborating my story later."

"I own every single eye in this impound."

Vi's jaw clamps. Rationally, he's right. She has no recourse if she attacks him. His goons are outside the tent. His blackguards are patrolling the grounds. The Undercity is his chessboard. And yet she's ready to reject rationality. She wants to attack him. Wants him to give her the smallest excuse. If he does, she'll have no choice but to react.

She'll trounce him, and to hell with the fallout.

Silco says, "I'll untie one wrist."

Vi snaps back to the moment.

"Just one. Take your time and eat. But if you make one stupid move…" His lips peel back from his crooked white teeth. "My crew are eager for entertainment. I've no problem if they make a show of you. Have you on a leash—or have you in the dog-pit." Softly, "Like a proper bitch."

The awfulness of his message spreads through the tent like Fissure-gas. Vi's lungs tighten; her pulse hitches. Silco tilts his head, measuring the steel in her spine. She matches his stare with as much steadiness as she can muster.

"You'll behave," he says. "Won't you?"

Jaw set, Vi nods.

"Good," he says softly. "Good girl."

Rising, he approaches her slowly. "Right hand or left?"

Vi exhales. "Right."

"Right it is."

Taking the key from his waistcoat, Silco leans in, fitting it to the manacle. There is a click. The metal unclamps from Vi's bruised wrist. Her right hand drops free. Her breath saws with relief. Raising her hand at eye-level, she flexes her fingers, rotating the wrist at the joint, then repeating the exercise with her elbow and shoulder.

Her cramped muscles twinge. Blood-flow resumes.

"Better?" Silco asks.

Vi pins him with baleful eyes. Silco's own are raptorially set, a casual venom in his half-smile.

"Well then," he murmurs. "Tuck in."

A strained silence hangs during the meal. Neither she nor Silco speak, or if they do, it is only through sharpened scowls cutting the space between them. But the soup, cream-of-shrimp with basil, is delicious, the salad as sweetly verdant as anything from Piltover's gardens, and the crawfish, when Vi cracks it open with her thumb in a veil of steam, tastes as if it's leapt straight out of the freshwaters.

Vi gorges without apology. She'll need her fortitude for whatever Silco is planning.

Once in a while, she hazards a glance at him. He's switched to the flatware. Yet his manner of eating is no less carnivorous. He holds each forkful at a bite's distance, then darts forward, snapping off each mouthful and grinding it down between sharp teeth. His proximity makes Vi's skin prickle.

Up close, she can only see everything that is unnatural in him beneath its much-scarred humanity. She doesn't believe in auras, or mojos, or other Fissure superstitions. But he has a vibe, eerie and amorphous and devouring, like the darkness at the bottom of the river. How can Powder stand to be near him?

Powder.

A red mass of tension pulses in Vi's chest. She flashes back to her sister's silhouette at the pool. Her far-out smile. Her pale body enfolded in the towel under Silco's hands. Her glowing innocence somehow revivifying his expression, as if he'd stolen her energy and taken it for himself.

Rage sucks all the flavor from her meal. Vi drops her spoon with a clatter.

Idly, Silco asks, "Full already?"

"Lost my appetite."

"Something off about the entrée?"

"Just your face."

His throat thrums out a sound that is nearly a laugh, but not quite. "You're quite the charmer yourself."

Shoveling the last forkful into his mouth, he swallows with the eerie sinuosity of a snake devouring a sump-vole. Then he pulls a black cambric napkin from his vest, smooths it out into an edge, and primly dabs his mouth. Its borders are fringed with a multicolored embroidery that reminds Vi of the funky cross-stitches Powder used to decorate her clothes with.

Neither of them could do needlework like grand Piltie ladies. But making do with hand-me-downs, year after year, meant learning how to sew. Vi was adept at basic hemming and mending. But Powder had a real flair with the needle. Vi remembers how her sister would fix up old sweaters and shirts and socks, making them extra-poppy with pink lazy daisies and red fishbones and yellow spiraling stars. Vi can almost see her at the corner of her mind's eye, sitting crosslegged, upper-lip caught between her teeth with concentration: Onesies, knit, twosies, knot…

Vi flinches, clubbed by nostalgia. She cuts her gaze away. Except it is too late. Silco intercepts her stare, and unexpectedly their eyes are locked. An unwanted understanding flows between them.

Vi says, "Did Powder make that?"

"Her name is Jinx."

"Did she?"

A muscle jerks in Silco's jaw. He nods.

"Can—can I see?"

His features stay hard and sharkish, all oily black eye and cut-steel face. Yet his good eye loses some of its chill. Matter-of-factly, he extends the handkerchief. Doesn't hand it over, but holds on, pinched tight between a thumb and forefinger. Vi traces the needlework carefully. The stitches aren't sophisticated. But they are tiny and astonishingly delicate: a rainbow crosshatching of XOXOs. A far cry from the clumsy squiggles of Powder's childhood.

Just like her bombs.

Gooseflesh breaks over Vi's skin. She drops her hand. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why haven't you killed me yet? Especially if I'm such a threat?"

Folding up the handkerchief, Silco tucks it away like a stolen prize.

"I told you before," he says. "Your usefulness outweighs my reasons."

"Usefulness."

That makes no sense. He's no longer a terrorist in Piltover's shadow. He's First Chancellor of his own nation. He's allied with bigger fish than Vi on the threat assessment scale. Probably found easier ways to intimidate others into doing his dirty-work, because a little easier is all it takes for men like Silco.

Why would someone so dangerous and well-connected need Vi for anything?

Silco says, as if reading her mind, "Zaun is independent. But it isn't invulnerable. The wheels are half-on, half-off. Under Topside, it's what we were accustomed to. On our own, we deserve better." His idle gesture encompasses the tent, the feast, the furor. "I can stage a damn good spectacle. I can lure foreign investment. People always respond favorably to good showmanship."

"A little razzle-dazzle works magic," Vi mutters, a hat-tip to another of Vander's favorite sayings.

Silco eyes her strangely. His face is etched with darkness, as if troubled thoughts are massing. "Razzle-dazzle works on the surface. It's the foundation that must stay strong. I can deal with the chem-barons. I’ve spent half my life stopping blowhards from pushing their territories to ruin with shortsighted double-games. Most of them live for the moment, anyway. It's why they die at a moment's notice. But Zaun—as a nation—must live."

"Under your boot?”

He shakes his head. "With or without me. There are certain fortunes I wish to guide and certain favors I plan to extract to make it so. Otherwise any fool in the future could undo the hard work of the past." He meets Vi's stare. "For that, I need eyes and ears inside Piltover."

"My eyes and ears?"

"Among other parts."

Her eyes narrow. "I thought you said Piltover set us both up."

"They did."

"I also thought you don't trust me."

"I don't."

"Then what the hell are you—?"

Silco cuts her off. "I'll explain. Drink?"

Vi glowers. "I'm not letting you liquor me up."

"I meant water."

Rising, he goes to the minibar. Vi watches him fill two paper cups from a cooler. The liquid is acid green. Transparent and cloudless, but green.

That isn't disturbing in itself. Vi has known it be worse colors. The Undercity's tapwater is a cesspit of contaminants. Loaded with turbidity, chloride, mold and bacteria. The water-supply infrastructure is ancient, and interminably crippled from lack of funds. Worse, as the population expanded, neighborhoods developed in a haphazard tangle, each unplanned sector massing beyond the ambit of civic services. That meant slipshod cross-connections, with sewage lines regularly spilling over into supply lines. There was always news of waterborne diseases; kids dying or posh Pilties getting poisoned.

In Vi's teens, water-mafia wannabes began cropping up everywhere. They set up illegal hydrants across the Undercity, tapping into the mains to steal water, then selling it to citizens for jacked-up prices. Shortly before his death, Vander was working with the communities to stop their water being siphoned. Vi often heard him growling that the scale of theft went all the way to Topside.

Silco sips from his cup. Vi expects him to grimace. Instead he holds the water contemplatively in his mouth, then swallows. "Still too sweet."

"What?"

He proffers a cup. "Try it. It's certified safe."

"Certified by who? Your poisoner?"

"Try it."

She stares at the green liquid, parched but wary. It doesn't smell weird. In fact, it doesn't smell like anything. Screwing up her courage, she takes a small sip. It tastes clean. There's a faint aftertaste of mint, like leftover mouthwash.

Silco eyes her closely. "Well?"

"It's …not bad?"

Silco nods, silent for a couple of beats. Then: "It's been fully treated for contaminants. But the offshoot is the color." He takes another sip, lips skinning back from his teeth. "And the taste. Still, it won't sicken anyone. Presently, this treatment is limited to the water plant at Entresol. In time, it will supply Zaun in its entirety. No more clogged filters. No more rations. No piling up a fortnight's soiled laundry before doing the wash. No families bathing two days a week with the same bathwater, just to tally every bloody drop wasted."

Vi notices that his accent has changed again, like when he'd smoked brightleaf at the warehouse, like when he'd complained of an empty stomach. The cultured cadences—closer to Topside than the Fissures—lose their enunciation to a familiar grittiness of bitten-off consonants and blunted vowels.

It's disconcertingly close to Vander's style of speech. With exceptions, the younger generations in the Undercity have a uniform accent. Standard, as it's called. But the older generations are a mixed bag. Each one has a distinct dialect to go with their particular neighborhood, so no single word is pronounced the same: wader, watta, vota.

Vander's neighborhood was the Pump Station. She wonders if Silco grew up there too.

Shaking it off, Vi takes another sip. Minty-clean. But it doesn't mean Silco's intentions are the same. His spiel about purification plants may seem convincing. But she reminds herself that he is likely accustomed to operating on multiple levels of deception. She can't trust him. She knows that. Yet she hates that she almost wants to believe him anyway.

Silco's stare is inexorable, the shark-eye seeing right through her.

"It must be difficult for you," he says.

"Difficult?"

"Living half-in, half-out."

Vi looks away. "I'm not getting into this with you."

"Ah. So there's something to get into?" He circles a fingertip around the rim of his cup. "Is this really what you want? To play lapdog as Topside’s Peacekeeper? To waste your talents working the beat?"

"I have my reasons. They're the only ones that matter."

"Reasons change. Especially once your eyes are wide open."

"Are yours? Hard to tell."

"You can deflect, but you can't lie. It's why you can't keep away from the Undercity. Why you're back again."

Vi bristles. "I'm back for my sister."

"You're saying life in Piltover is peaches and cream? You're lucky, certainly. It's not the usual way for an ex-con from Stillwater to smarm it up with the Kirramans, despite not having a cog to her name. Getting an apartment with a closet bigger than most rooms in the Sumps. Getting three square meals and permission to go wherever she pleases. But in exchange, they expect you to sing for your supper, don't they? To be eager to please, in exchange for getting rescued? You were brave to overcome your ordeal, but you're blessed now, aren't you?"

Vi refuses to answer. But her shoulders flex into a yoke of tension. He's needling her. She knows it.

That doesn't mean he's off the mark.

Silco drains his cup half at a go. Setting it aside, he thumbs the greenness off his lips. "Take it from someone who's been there and back, girl. Piltover will never accept you as one of them. You'll stay there. Never live. Stay. Like a dog stays in a kennel until the master bids it to heel. You'll never be allowed to hold your head high. Always be a target for their mean-spirited prejudices and ignorance. Even the well-meaning Pilties—like your Kirraman girl—have no idea what you've endured. The hardness it builds on the inside. It's like they live in one dimension. Meanwhile you live in three. Surviving as an orphan on the Day of Ash. Surviving as a casualty of Topside's negligence. Surviving as a Fissure-born emigre, only to find the part of you that's formed in violence will always respond to nothing but violence."

Vi swallows her drink. It burns going down, but that's not the water.

She knows what he's talking about. She wishes she didn't—but she does. Her eyes drop to Silco's hands. They are freakish appendages: long and bony, with a terrain of heavy metacarpals. Well-kept, but the demarcations of old scars are plain. Burn scars. Fisticuff scars. Knife scars. The same type as Vander's.

The same type as hers.

Against her will, she imagines a younger Silco, with an unfucked-up face, dead-drunk and pitching himself into a bar-brawl, his knuckles splitting open against someone's tooth, blood on his hands, on his clothes, on the floor. So much blood, night after night, just to scrape by and survive. He's been there. Vander's been there. Vi's been there. Even Powder has.

Caitlyn—sweet Caityln—has never been there.

Silco holds her eyes over the rim of his cup. "I wasn't lying when I said Piltover set you up. You were the gasoline to start a political fire. Deny it all you like. In your gut, you know the truth." He empties the rest of the cup in one swallow. "In losing Zaun, they've lost precious resources. Our factories. Our mills. Our mines. We're negotiating a treaty. But the course of peace ne'er ran smooth. They'll find loopholes to keep us beholden to them. Same as always."

He uses the royal plural; we, us, ours. As if he and Zaun are two halves of a single machine grinding inexorably into infinity.

As if Vi is part of the machine too.

She scowls. "I'm not playing your errand girl."

"You wouldn't be."

"Or your attack dog."

"I've no shortage of those." His good eye narrows. "I need a nexus."

"Nexus?"

"A link between Piltover and Zaun. Someone to serve as a bridge, in the absence of the old one. A bridge that works both ways, rather than solely in their favor."

"People walk all over a bridge."

His scarred upper-lip curls. "No one could possibly walk over you, pet."

"Don't fucking call me that."

"It suits you."

Vi isn't sure if his expression is a stifled smirk or a low-key leer. It makes her want to smack him. Is that the reaction he's trying to provoke? Or is it a mind-game at a deeper level, something to get under her skin? Make her emotionally volatile?

Vi grits her teeth.

Whatever he's doing, it's working.

"I meant what I said,” Silco goes on. “Razzle-dazzle only works if the magic is real. Zaun’s is limited, especially compared to the mightiest empires. That’s why we need security as much as investment. As much as sharp minds in politics, military, corporations, and the media. A shield protects against outside threats. A sword does maximum damage. Zaun needs its own. Something big enough to scare everyone else off."

Vi glowers. "You've already got the damn Hex-gem."

Silco tilts his head. "Sitting pretty on it won't protect Zaun."

"What?"

"It's like a bomb. It must be placed in the right spot."

"I'm not following you."

"It means—"

"I mean I'm not taking your job."

Silco falls silent. Then: "Let me ask you a question. What notion has been relentlessly drilled into the head of every sumpsnipe since birth? About their place, and Piltover's?"

Vi shifts in her seat. "I don't know. That we're one city, I guess."

"Close. That we are one city. But every time Piltover is in need, they take from us. A famine in Ionia cripples produce. So we must forfeit our sleep and wages to make up for declining productivity. A flood capsizes shipping vessels full of Shuriman timber.  So we must build our houses with cheap mortar while they construct sturdy homes. A housing crisis sends rent skyrocketing. Yet the Wardens charge us ten times the price per cubic foot in our shantytowns than in the finest streets on Mainspring Crescent.” He locks his unsettling eyes with hers. “They get the Kindred's share. We make do with scraps."

Déjà vu dopplers. Past conversations with Vander, overlapping the present. Vi doesn't flinch. But it's an effort to hold still under Silco's scrutiny.

"Zaun is free now," Silco says, his voice vibrating with a barely restrained fervor. "But to stay free, we must seize our future. So we are longer exploited. Not by Piltover nor any other enemy."

"And where do I fit into this?"

"We'll discuss it. If you choose to join me."

Vi shakes her head. "Already said I won’t."

"Because Piltover is your new home?"

"Because of what you are."

Silco's insinuating demeanor sobers.  "Better the monster than the meat.” Lounging back in his seat, he drums his fingers on the table's edge. "Still… I regret that it turned out this way. We weren't meant to fight one another. We were supposed to stand as one against Topside. Just like Vander and I."

A livewire twists in Vi's gut. "That didn't stop you from killing Vander."

Silco tips his chin, a cold glitter in his mismatched eyes. "You have this notion—I don't know where it came from—that my feud with Vander sprang up overnight. Perhaps it's more comforting to imagine it did. But ask the other fellow, get the other side of the story. Our dispute took its time within a squared circle of debts and decades. What we owed, we both paid." His jaw tenses, then relaxes. "I couldn't work with Vander, though I respected him. Hopefully I can work with you."

Vi stares warily.

"You're like him. Fierce. Independent. Smart."

Vi snorts, faux-modest. "You need to quit."

"But like him, you turn a virtue into a vice. You don't understand when to do business, and when to stay out of it."

The knot in Vi's gut becomes a dagger. "Business? You mean drugs and murder and blackmail?"

"Exactly."

She shakes her head. "You really are a piece of work."

"I do what I must for the best interests of Zaun. It's a messy dilemma. But the longer you remain a Peacekeeper, the more you'll be mired in the same. Piltover preaches pacifism in the limelight. But they break just as many laws in the dark to further their ends." His tongue plays over the point of an eyetooth. "The difference is that Piltover has the luxury of choice. Zaun doesn't. The things I've done were necessary for our freedom."

Vi seethes in disgust, "Shimmering up the Lanes was necessary?"

"Everything is permissible when there's no other way."

"You're full of shit."

"And you're abysmally naïve." He smiles without mirth. "That's the charm of youth. Like falling off a cliff. By the time you see the end, it's too late." A beat. "Rather like love."

"What the hell are you yapping about?"

His smile fades. "Jinx."

The word passes through Vi on a shock of paralysis.

"Do you want to see her?"

Hatred burns Vi's lungs and hope strangles her heart.

Silco stares at her with surface calm. But his mouth twists at the corners. "There are three tasks I need you to do. They are necessary to establish Zaun as a sovereign power. Complete each one, and I'll grant you access to Jinx. Unrestricted. No tricks up the sleeve. No strings attached."

His offer catches like a hook in Vi's ribcage. She struggles against its pull.

"You're lying," she states flatly. "I'm a threat. You told me yourself. Why would you let me near her?"

Silco's eyes hold hers in a moment of deepening silence. Then he glances away. His unscarred profile holds both bitterness and irony. As if she is a truth he dares not turn his back on.

Quietly, he says, "You are a threat. I do not take kindly to those. But you're also her sister. You're Vander's girl. That earns you the barest grace. If you expect more, then prove yourself. Show your loyalty to Jinx. Zaun may no longer be your home. But it is hers. With each task you complete, you'll leave it safer for her future."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then it becomes a matter of payment and cost."

"Just math, huh?"

"Survival is a simple equation." His darkening stare is a prelude to a kill. "So is fatherhood."

Fatherhood.

The word sounds rancid on his lips. She remembers his eyes boring into Powder at the skyscraper balcony. Remembers the way he'd set his hands on her as if he was going to swallow her up.

She doesn’t care what Sevika says. Something about him and Jinx together is inherently rancid. Fathers don't touch their daughters that way. Don't corrupt them into trigger-happy terrorists. Don't stow them away in towers like prisoners.

It isn't natural. It isn't right.

But nothing about Silco is natural or right.

(I'll get you away from him, Powder.)

(I promise.)

Forcibly, Vi swallows. Her voice comes hoarse but steady.

"All right."

"Hm?"

"I'll do your fucking jobs. But I want to see my sister first."

He shakes his head. "You've already seen her. Killed a blackguard in the bargain too."

Fury scalds Vi. "I told you. I never—"

"You did." His tone is a clash of contradictions, cold civility yielding against a warm lure of truth. "I saw him at the morgue. He had a crushed trachea. Perhaps he wasn't dead when you left him. But certain injuries, a man succumbs to afterward."

"I—"

A vein throbs in Vi's temple. She feels physically sick. Silco is lying; he has to be. She knows the blackguard was alive. He was breathing when she'd left the alleyway. But—

But she also knows bodies are unpredictable.

Fuck.

Is Silco telling the truth? Had she killed the guard by accident? Or had Silco conspired to make it happen? Either way, Vi could argue it was a hazard of the trade. As Vander used to say: Queensberry Rules. Once the gloves are on, the bets are off. Everything within the ring is sanctioned. She knows this. The blackguard would've known too.

And yet—

"I know you think this is self-serving theater," Silco says. "But fact is fact."

Vi's eyes flick to his.

"Fortunately, facts can be distorted. Between us, we'll make the issue go away."

Vi's eyes burn, her mouth spasming. "Quid pro quo, huh?"

"You play the bone-breaker. I play the undertaker." He lets off a strange chuckle: worn-out and vacant. "I did the same for Vander."

Vi's mind feels pulped; she's not sure how many more blows it can withstand. Instinctively, she makes a real fist with her freed hand, and slams it knuckles-down on the table—a sharp thud.

"Tell me what you want."

She nearly shivers at the expression that crosses Silco's face. It isn't triumph. His features remain impassive. But something flares to cold sharp life within the interior of his skull. His eyes exude an alien glow. "Three tasks. Once you've completed the first, I'll give the second. Once you've accomplished that, you'll get the third."

"Then I'll see my sister?"

"You have my word."

"Then shake on it."

"Hm?"

"Shake on it. Like a real fucking Trencher. With both of us standing up and facing each other."

A smile etches itself across Silco's lips. "You expect to be untied?"

"If we're going to do this? Yeah."

Silco doesn't say anything for a moment. His unnerving eyes rove across Vi's face. He might be considering her odds of attacking him. He might be considering her chances of warding off his goons and escaping into the crowd. He might be measuring how completely he can take her word, the same way she can take his.

After a moment, he nods.

Dipping a hand into his waistcoat, he tosses her the key. "Go on."

Vi wastes no time. She undoes her left hand's shackles. Next the chains locking her ankles. The manacles fall with a heavy clank. Rising, she limbers up, trying not to wince at the stiffness. Torques the hips, rolls her shoulders, bobbing briefly on the tips of her toes. Silco remains at a distance. His eyes roam over her physique. He isn't scoping her out. He is scrutinizing her as impassively if she is a rottweiler in his dog-fight.

A pawn in his chessgame.

Vi sticks her hand out. Rising, he takes it in his own. His grip is chilly, like handling a dead twist of muscle. They don't break off. Just stand with clasped palms for a tense moment. Outside, a wild cheer goes up. The thunder of a hundred lungs emptying themselves in a chorus of triumph. Vi hears the music speakers blast a throb of drumbeats and shrieking guitar riffs. She recognizes the song.

Blut.

The anthem of the Undercity. The victory call for Ziggy and Stardust. The dotted line with Vi's signature in blood.

"Well," Silco says. "Now that—"

Vi's fist barrels into his solar plexus

It is a lightning-fast right-hook. Vi summons into it all the hatred from the depths of her being. It clocks Silco straight between the ribs. He makes a sound like a dry-gulch. The impact of her knuckles judders through his chest with the flat smack of beef-cut slapped onto the chopping block.

He staggers, and Vi follows with her own momentum, pivoting to slam the heel of her palm into his throat, knocking him backwards against the table. Glasses topple and a plate crashes to the floor.

Vi holds Silco down. He thrashes, driving his knee toward her underbelly. Vi blocks it with a retaliatory stomp to his instep. thighs pinning his own. She'd expected to manhandle a jangling skeleton. But the narrow musculature beneath her is whipcord-wiry and vicious. She can barely keep him stationary beneath the clamp of her arms and legs.

Maybe he wasn't lying about being a miner. Vi had sparred with a few in Stillwater. Most had a strength that didn't announce itself—right until it crashtackled you.

She doesn’t give Silco the chance. Her knuckles jam deeper under his throat. Their eyes lock from inches apart.

"You shitbag," Vi breathes. "Tell me why I shouldn't crack your skull open."

Silco's lips are curled back over a jagged row of teeth. The glow in his eyes is feral. A blackness pouring into his expression.

Then he smiles.

"You forgot Vander's rule."

"What—?"

"Never drop your high guard."

Suddenly there is a butterfly knife in his right hand. He whips it wide-angled across Vi's face. The blade rakes along the fine hairs on her cheekbone, a cold vibration sharpening into hot pressure as blood spills. Vi gasps, loosening her grip. Silco jerks free and swings again, the knife a flashing arc. Vi rocks back on her heels, dodging, and reflexively snaps off an uppercut. It connects with air.

There is nobody on the table.

In the next blink, a flashbang shoots from the butt of the knife and erupts inches from Vi's face.

The shockwave is like getting blowtorched. Stars spiral before Vi's eyes. High-pitched noises ignite in her ears. Yowling, she jerks back. Her hands stay fisted despite the unbearable urge to claw at her face. Wheeling, she tries to keep Silco—a blood-red shadow—in her sightline. The second blow isn't a flashbang, but the silver tray caroming off her shoulder. She grunts, torquing to evade. Silco closes in and hits her twice more, sideways and then full-on, the tray slamming off her skull.

Vi's knees buckle, and in slow-motion, she is sliding to the floor. The rugs are so soft against her colliding cheek. Like cotton batting or Caitlyn's breasts.

She lays sprawled for a moment. Dazed. Her heart pumps with rapid unevenness. Blood seeps from the slash on her face.

Three Silco's loom over her, before coalescing into one.

He is breathing rapidly. His left hand massages his bruised ribs, then goes to his throat. Fingertips caress the blotched skin. He swallows with a rough click, muttering a paragraph of fluent billingsgate that is punctuated by a single word: Bitch.

"Worth it," Vi slurs.

She starts to get up. Matter-of-factly, Silco plants his boot on her bruised shoulder and pushes her back down. He stands over her, regarding her through flat eyes. The fingers of his right hand play over the knife handle—a cresting arc of metal like a shark's fin. Vi stares at the bright blood on the blade. She thinks of how it's a weapon signifying neither skill nor strength. It only requires a black core of ruthlessness and a willingness to cross the hardest line.

It's what puts her at a disadvantage against this monster.

Pursing his lips, Silco lets off a brisk whistle. The tent's flap lifts. Sevika walks in, followed by Ran and Lock. They turn the corner and stop short. The aftermath of the altercation crackles like electricity through the air. Sevika's dark eyes go from Vi to Silco. There is no shock in her appraisal.

Slipping a hand into her pocket, she flips Silco a gold Hex. He catches it neatly.

"Called it," Sevika says.

Silco nods. "Expect your half later."

A paralyzing chill spreads through Vi. She realizes Silco had anticipated her attack. Planned it. Provoked it.

And once again, she'd walked into his trap.

"You fucker," she hisses.

Silco tilts his head to one side. "I did warn you not to misbehave."

He jerks his chin. Ran and Lock swarm to enclose Vi. They drag her to her feet, wrenching her arms behind her back. A fresh pair of cuffs are slapped on her wrists. Vi's head throbs from the impact of the silver tray. But the pump of emotion speeding her pulse isn't fear. It's a pent-up fury she can only liken to Murderus Interruptus.

Shit—she'd been so close. She'd nearly bashed his skull in. Whatever it took to end this madness.

To save the Undercity, and Powder's life.

With a napkin, Silco wipes the blood off his butterfly knife. He returns it to the hidden sheath at his belt, with the same uncommon care he'd shown Powder's handkerchief. Crossing over to Vi, he mops the blood off her face. Vi tries to wrench away. Ran grabs a fistful of hair at the back of her skull and keeps her immobile.

Taking her jaw in one hand, Silco regards her eyes. "Pupils seem about right."

"Get out of my face!"

"I can hardly have you concussed."

"Bad optics, huh?"

"In more ways than one."

His tone is all mildness, and for a moment, Vi loses her bearings. Ten seconds ago, his face was a rictus of bloodthirst. Now it's a study of aloof reproach, as if she's a mutt who's tracked mud on his carpet. An ordinary person would be disquieted by the split. Vi takes it for what it is: proof of a lifelong intimacy with violence. She's known inmates in Stillwater who were the same. Crazies who were so adept at compartmentalizing that their different selves were like two faces of a coin. Tails; retreat. Heads; destroy.

If they deemed something necessary, they acted with no remorse and even less warning.

"Let's go," Silco says.

Vi tenses. "What? Where?"

The dog-pit. He’d threatened they’d have her in the dog-pit.

Fuck. Fuck—

Silco’s savoring stare meets her stricken one. "Don’t look so concerned. You’re being escorted to the chopper. We'll deliver you back to Topside."

"You rotten piece of shit! We're not finished here!"

"On the contrary," Silco agrees, "we've scarcely started."

Vi's body turns into a cold block of lead. Around her, the goons crack knowing smiles. Sevika's stare is sharply glossed. Ran hums to herself, a two-note chuckle. Lock bobs his head in time to no beat.

None of it bodes well.

Especially not the curve of Silco's smile.

"Deal's done." His shark-eye glints in private relish. "Welcome to the family."

#arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane fanfic #arcane silco #arcane sevika #arcane vi #arcane jinx #arcane mel #silco #jinx #vi #mel medarda #silco x sevika #silco x mel #sevilco #melco #fanfic #forward but never forget/xoxo #forward (never forget)/xoxo

[nikonothere]

Done and done. Some sweet, utterly self-serving smut.

Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: Rammstein Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Richard Kruspe/Till Lindemann Characters: Richard Kruspe, Till Lindemann Additional Tags: Shameless Smut, Pining, Mutual Masturbation, Secret Crush, Quickies, Tour Bus Sex Summary:

How long could one possibly masturbate before either falling asleep or finishing?

#tillchard #rammstein #fanfic #fanfiction #till lindemann #richard kruspe #rzk #richard z kruspe #just smut #maybe some tiny cute feelings

[fayn3ko]

Exercises I did this week ᕦ( ͡͡~͜ʖ ͡° )ᕤ with a touch of creativity. The last one nearly became naughty oop maybe next time 

#some pics of paul rly got me going #already wanted to draw some landers dick TM #aye #what else #my drawings are literally just a mixture of all existing pics of the bois and i took pieces i needed lmao #yes this time no reesh or schneider whaaaa #i wanted to draw flake but well he comin next time ok ay #for real imagine i would draw paulchard smut uhuhuuu boi #paul would top reesh cuz honestly paul is so damn sexy and that self estem i mean ???? and he got some dick we all know it #im writing this at 1 am and post it later dont be surprised about the notes #okay enough babble #paul landers #oliver riedel #till lindemann #rammstein #fanart #rammfanart #r+ #mine #myart #fayn3ko #tillpaul #i was a very anxious binch thats why i drew so much #if it works well i can draw through hours a whole evening without even drinking or anything

[struwwelzeter]

The Always on my Mind video is like Tillchard wrote some kind of chaotic Tillchard Space Deity AU fic on AO3.

6/20 chapter, 7 K, Till Lindemann/Richard Kruspe, Rammstein, Emigrate, Original female character

Tags: Non-human genitals, slow burn, kid-fic, Space AU, Creation AU, eventual smut, idiots to lovers, Spaceship, loneliness, they have a daughter together, sorry I don’t know how to tag this

…

Needless to say I am feeling 200% batshit insane about it.

#till and richard #emigrate band #till lindemann #rzk #richard kruspe #tillchard #never gonna get over this help #rammstein #arghhhhh #screaming forever

[hes-the-muse]

Muse - Till Lindemann

We welcome Till Lindemann to HE’S-THE-MUSE!

❤️ Till Lindemann ❤️

Fire breathing, strength, vulnerability, power of conviction, flirting, stage presence, outlandish costumes and ridiculous stage antics, shyness and softly spoken words.

Immaculate Red

#till lindemann fanfic #rammstein fanfic #till lindemann #till lindemann smut #till lindemann rpf #hes the muse #muse

[derwahnsinn]

Original art by Cherriii!

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Rammstein Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Paul Landers/Christoph Schneider | Doom, Paul Landers/Till Lindemann, Richard Kruspe/Paul Landers, Paul Landers/Oliver Riedel, Paul Landers & Christian Lorenz | Flake Characters: Paul Landers, Christoph Schneider | Doom, Till Lindemann, Richard Kruspe, Oliver Riedel, Christian Lorenz | Flake Additional Tags: Smut, Masturbation, Friendship Summary:

What may or may not have happened at La Fabrique studios in autumn of 2020.

#Rammstein #Fanfiction #Paul Landers #Smut #Fanart

[unlimitedlust]

Temptation - Part 1

Till’s POV

I took a large gulp of my whiskey as a beautiful stripper went down the main pole with her legs wide open to the sound of Marilyn Manson’s “Tainted Love” right in front of me. The purple stage lights highlighted her toned curves and her outfit: a white latex swimsuit with a large V cleavage that ended at her belly button and white cutout high heels. She was hot, really hot, probably one of the hottest girls I’ve ever seen and I’ve seen a lot. The way she glanced at the men watching her while she danced - me included -, her eyes full of devilish intentions, the way she sucked in her bottom lip and ran her hands over her body in a provocative way, that girl knew exactly what she was doing, a pure seduction machine. Of course I was there to see half-naked women, but I wasn’t expecting to get so hard and so infatuated by this new woman. She was just a stripper for god’s sake.

Sadly her performance soon came to an end. Following her with my eyes, I watched her boss call and lead her to the VIP session where another man was having the pleasure of watching her dance just for him and I wish I was that lucky man.

I drank the last of my whiskey, pushed her away from my thoughts and went home. I can’t believe I was getting jealous over a stripper, all I needed to do was to get back to that same stripclub another time if I wanted to watch her again.

A couple of days went by and my best friend Robert called me over to his house for some drinks, his daughter he hadn’t seen in a long time was finally visiting him. She lived in another country with her mother and he always had to visit her, but now she was finally here and he couldn’t be happier and seeing my friend happy made me happy as well.

“Good evening, Till!” Robert greeted me enthusiastically with a hug.

“Good evening, my friend, I guess it’s not necessary to ask how are you doing right?” We both giggled as we stepped inside his house.

“My baby is home, nothing can make me sad!” He led us to his living room and I sat on the brown leather armchair by the rock fireplace as he poured us his favorite expensive Scotch.

“And how are things going with your daughter?”

“Great! She’s now in college and she’s grown into a beautiful woman, it makes me nervous to think that men might be chasing after her already”

“Already? How old is she?”

“21”

I laughed.

“Please, buddy, 21? It’s about time for men to chase after her isn’t it?”

“Yeah I know, but she’s my baby forever, I can’t bear thinking about this stuff”

“You gotta a point there that’s why I won’t judge you”

“I know you won’t” He replied as we heard some steps coming down his wooden stairs “Oh, Y/N! Come meet my best friend Till!” He leaned back towards the stairs on his armchair calling her.

“I’ll be right there, dad! I forgot my purse, just a minute!” She yelled from the second floor and soon we heard her coming down the stairs again.

Oh fuck.

I almost dropped my glass when I saw her. It was her. The hot stripper, right in front of me, and she’s my best friend’s daughter. Holy fuck.

She went straight to her dad to give him a quick hug before she acknowledged my presence and froze on her tracks. Her eyes widened as she probably had recognized me as one of her stripclub’s clients, her beautiful face silently begging me to keep her secret away from her father.

“Hey, I’m Y/N, nice to meet you” She finally spoke, breaking the awkward silence that lasted for only a couple of seconds, but felt like a whole hour in the room, while Robert was completely unaware of what was happening.

“Nice to meet you too, I’m Till” I took a large gulp of my scotch as she fixed the purse on her shoulder.

“Dad, I’m going out with some new friends I’ve made, okay? Don’t wait up” She said sweetly and he nodded.

“Have fun, love”

“Thanks dad” She already had her hand on the front door’s knob “Bye, Till”

She looked at me one last time, her eyes begging once again for me to keep her secret.

“Bye, Y/N”

For the rest of the night I couldn’t pay attention to a word Robert said. That couldn’t be happening, that couldn’t be his daughter, what a sad coincidence. As much as part of me felt like I should tell him about his daughter’s secret getaways, another told me to keep it to myself and I decided to stick with it. He loved her too much and would be thoroughly disappointed if he found out his little daughter was a vixen at night.

But I felt bad, bad for not being honest with him and even worse for lusting on his daughter. Fuck!

“Till?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I got carried away with some stuff I’ve gotta do tomorrow” Liar.

“Nevermind, are you coming to my birthday party at my Lake Walchensee house this weekend?”

“Of course I am”

“Perfect! I’ll text you the details later”

The next day couldn’t have gone by any slower than it did. I was completely unproductive and absolutely stressed by it. I couldn’t get her out of my mind. Every woman I saw on the street I thought was her, I mean, I wish it was her. How could I be so obsessed with a stripper to the point I couldn’t focus on my job? And that stripper being my best friend's daughter! I shouldn’t be thinking about her at all, I never meant to cross that line.

Why was she a stripper? Robert was a wealthy man and I knew he sent her a good amount of money every month. And why did I have to go to that specific stripclub on that specific damn night? 

I needed to talk to her, I needed answers, I needed a way out of this obsession. And that’s how I found myself sitting in a private VIP room at that same stripclub later that night, waiting for her as patiently as I could. It was a small room, dimly lit by pink, purple and red lights that changed along to the beat of the songs being played. It had a black leather loveseat on the corner, a comfortable cushioned chair where I was sitting, a pole in the middle of the room and right in front of the chair and a floor to ceiling mirror behind the pole.

I was nervous, I shouldn’t be here. Not for the reason I was here.

The door on my right finally opened and there she was. Her delicious flowerish parfum invaded my senses as her taunting beauty came into my sight in a mouth watering dark red lace lingerie set with garters and red high heels on her feet. I was astonished and completely hard just by looking at her.

“What are you doing here?” She asked calmly yet a little alarmed as she rested her back against the door with her hands on the lock, ready to get out.

“You” Her eyes widened at my extremely honest answer “I think we need to talk” I said as laidback as I could.

“I’m listening” She locked the door and giggled as she swayed her hips and walked behind me, her fingertips running from one of my shoulders to the other as she circled me and took her place by the pole.

“Why are you here?” I asked, trying not to sound judgemental.

“For fun. I’m an exibicionist in case you haven’t noticed” She smiled seductively “But you don’t need to worry for him…” She started pole dancing for me in the sexiest and most provocative way possible to Arctic Monkeys’ “Do I Wanna Know”, the lyrics matching almost perfectly to my current situation as my eyes traveled down between her spread legs on the floor.

She arched her back and laid on the floor with her legs still open for me and her slender fingers slid over the thin fabric covering her pussy before she closed them slowly and back rolled, sensually landing on her heels on a squat as she ruffled her hair with her hands and jerked her hips forward like she was grinding with the air.

“I don’t get involved with clients” She got up circling the pole and stopped in front of me, her back turned to me as she slid her hands down the pole and bent over showing off her beautiful ass for me “I’m just a dancer, there’s no harm in dancing…”

She turned her body back to me and squatted down, getting on her knees, her eyes never breaking their contact with mine.

“Does he know his little girl is a stripper?” She chuckled at my question and spread my legs apart by my knees with a devilish grin.

Her eyes were on my painfully hard cock hidden by my dark jeans as she leaned in closer to me, her lips almost brushing my raging bulge as she made her way up my body and whispered on my ear:

“Does he know his best friend is paying for a private session with her?” 

I gulped at her comeback as she slowly ran her hands on my inner thighs getting dangerously close to where I wanted her to touch me the most. But just as her fingers brushed close to my crotch, she stopped.

“Does he know how hard his best friend is because of her?”

Chills ran down my spine as her lips brushed against my earlobe.

“Now keep in mind the rules, Till” She slid her fingertips along my jaw, lightly lifting my chin connecting your eyes again as our noses brushed “You can look, but you can’t touch”

She took her position behind me and slid her hands down my shoulders, caressing my arms as we looked at each other through the mirror in front of us. She slid her hands back up my arms and shoulder and then down my chest and abs lazily.

“But do you want me to touch you, Till?” She purred seductively and I flinched as her fingers reached my belt and caressed my thighs once again, skipping my painfully hard erection on purpose.

That girl was going to be the death of me.

She got back in front of me, wrapped her arms around my neck and straddled me, rolling her hips to grind against my cock making me gasp with the friction. She repeated the same motion but this time pulling me closer, bringing my face dangerously close to her breasts while both my hands gripped the chair trying not to touch her at my own will, she was the temptation in flesh and bone.

She got off of me, turned around and stood between my open legs, swaying her hips to the floor as she placed her hands on my thighs for extra support. She swayed her hips back up and hovered her ass right above my boner, moving it in circles before she grinded against me like she was riding me in a reverse cowgirl position.

“Fuck” 

It escaped my lips as I was dizzy with lust, my eyes were glued to the image of her ass rubbing against me and my mind was overwhelmed by all the sinful things I could do to her while she arched back to rest her head on my shoulder as she slid up and down between my legs.

“Time’s up”

A robotic voice echoed in the room and she immediately composed herself and walked nonchalantly to the exit door.

“I’ll see you at the Walchensee, Till” 

I let a huge sigh out of my lungs as I parked my car in front of Robert’s lake house. I could survive for two days around Y/N, couldn’t I? I mean, I have no intention of doing anything and I’m sure she’s not doing anything either because not only her father, but also her stepmom was there.

Everything was going to be just fine.

I took my stuff to their spare room on the second floor as everyone got all the details ready for the party. Robert was checking on the drinks and instructing the staff he hired, Heidi - his wife - was checking on the decorations and DJ set and Y/N was in the kitchen finishing up the cupcakes.

“Can someone help me please?” I heard Y/N calling from the kitchen as I went down the stairs.

“What do you need?” I answered her as I made my way to the kitchen, Robert nodding thankfully to me as he talked to the party staff in the living room.

“Could you please help me stack them up on these cupcake displays?” She asked as she finished frosting some chocolate cupcakes.

“Sure, how do you want it?”

“Chocolate and strawberry on this one and vanilla and pistachio on that one, thank you, Till” She smiled politely giving me a quick glance before returning to her task.

As she finished the cupcakes she watched me stack them up just how she ordered and she seemed happy with the final result.

“Here, try one” She brought a strawberry cupcake close to my lips and I took a bite of it as she watched my reaction apprehensively.

“Oh my God” I exclaimed. That cupcake was so fucking perfect.

“What?” She looked frightened at my reaction.

“This is so delicious!”

“Damn, Till! I thought they were terrible by the way you reacted!” She laughed and took a bite of the same cupcake, smearing the corner of her mouth with frosting.

Before I could think it through, my hand automatically cupped her jaw and I cleaned the frosting with my thumb. Being the devil she was, she locked her eyes with mine and captured by thumb with her soft lips, sucking it teasingly, her eyes challenging me as I forgot for a couple of seconds we were at her dad’s house and slid my hand down her neck, choking her, my unexpected move forcing a small whimper out of her lips.

“Are you sure you want to tease me here?” I asked as I let go of her neck.

“What can I say? I love the thrill…”

“We can’t do this, I can’t do this” I exhaled as I turned my back to her and grabbed a glass of water, desperately trying to think of anything else other than bending her over that kitchen island and fucking her right then and there.

“You know what they say, the stolen fruit is the sweetest” She stood by my side and slid her hand up my thigh, her fingers brushing against my hard cock intentionally.

“I’m going to hell for this…”

“We are going to hell, Till”

#rammstein #ramms+ein #fanfic #fanfiction #till lindemann #strip #stripdance #forbidden relationship #temptation #teasing #smut #one shot #self insert

[notafraidofredyellowandblue]

writers ask: 10, 11, 18, 19, 20

Hi @tinnike thank you for the 'behind the scenes' ask 😊

10. Do you enjoy writing dialogue, exposition, or plot the most?

I should have replied to the other asks sooner, so you guys could have already read those but i replied that in another just now 🤗

11. If you could only write angst, fluff, or smut for the rest of your life, which would it be?

Is anyone who ever read one of my fics surprised that i choose fluff? 😊 Yes, i'm an unashamed fluff writer and there's definitely more fluff to come 🌹

18. What is a line/scene you’re really proud of? Give us the DVD commentary for that scene.

See? Again should have posted the other replies sooner, this too was in another ask just now 😊

19. Who is the easiest/hardest character for you to write about? Why?

Easiest: Richard Kruspe, because it's easy for me to relate to a hard-working, wanting to achieve a lot, overthinking persona 😁 That...or maybe i just want to be hugged by Paul a lot...that's also a possibility ❤

Hardest: This has long been Till Lindemann, and that's in a way weird because i love Till's ability to write, his poetry, his imagination and love for old german stories, fairy tales etc. But some stuff, particularly in 2020, was a turn-off to me, at some point i thought i'd never write a Rammstein fanfic again, just of shear lack of inspiration, then wrote a really basic, not very good, one-shot 'Ordinary afternoon' , and that helped get some inspiration back. Only recently i wrote a fic with Till as a main character, together with Flake (who i think are a great pair), so maybe from now on it will get easier 🍀

20. What’s your favorite minor character you’ve written?

I usually write about the Rammstein guys themselves and other characters often even go unnamed 😊 but i think my favorite 'other' characters are 'Feeling B' members Aljoscha Rompe and Alexander Kriening in the 'Paul and Richard teen years' series, because i can just imagine them being amused by the youngsters around them, thinking they have to teach them to be real punk musicians, but also being a little bit of 'dads' to them 😊

#i got an ask #fic writing behind the scenes #fanfiction

[girlwiththepapatattoo]

1, 3, 7, 68, 94

1: 6 of the songs you listen to most?

Can the entirety of Feathers and Flesh count? No? Oh fine.

House of Eternal Hunt by Avatar

Dance Macabre by Ghost

Mein Herz Brennt (piano version) by Rammstein

Just Breathe by Pearl Jam

Be My Druidess by Type O Negative

Engel by Rammstein

3: Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, give me line 17.

“The streams had bridges that were as much ornament as structure needed for water crossing.” -Mastiff, Beka Cooper book three, by Tamora Pierce

7: What’s your strangest talent?

Um...I can kinda do the redrum voice from The Shining? I guess? lol

68: What do you think is Satan’s last name?

If I had to guess, something related to light. (*coughMorningstarcough*) Of course, it could be something super mundane, like Smith or something. Or they could just be pulling a Cher-fuck last names! XD

94: You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Who would it be?

I MEAN LATELY I THINK IT’S BEEN PRETTY OBVIOUS LMFAO. Till Fucking Lindemann is a nuisance and he owes me a few new pairs of panties. I should write more smut with him, where’s @loveliestofstars...

Thanks for the ask babe! *blows kiss*

#get to know me #hannibalssweaters

[nikonothere]

I am re-posting my fic, because the last chapter of this segment comes out later tomorrow night!!!! This is part two of a series, so if you’ve not read the first, I highly recommend it so you aren’t lost starting this one.

This fic has been SO fantastic to write, and I’m so thankful for everyone who’s taken the time to read, comment, kudos, all of it. I adore writing, and getting to do it for people like you just makes it worlds better. 

*mwah.

Chapters: 29/? Fandom: Rammstein Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Relationships: Richard Kruspe/Till Lindemann, Richard Kruspe/Christoph Schneider Characters: Richard Kruspe, Till Lindemann, Christian Lorenz | Flake, Oliver Riedel, Christoph Schneider | Doom, Paul Landers Additional Tags: Fluff and Smut, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Internal Conflict, Insecurity, References to Depression, Past Violence, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Trust Issues, Open Relationships, Infidelity, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, BDSM, Heavy BDSM, Dom/sub, Whipping, Flogging, Past Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Polyamory Series: Part 2 of Becoming Whole Together Summary:

Till and Richard are embarking on their first fledgling relationship together after coming to terms with their mutual attraction, but both men have heavy emotional baggage that’s guaranteed to make their journey together a difficult one.

#rammstein #relationships #angst #drama #love #richard kruspe #till lindemann #christoph schneider #flake lorenz #oliver reidel #paul landers #smut #fluff

[fayn3ko]

2C and 4A till/reesh

I hope you don’t mind I choose only one (they take longer than I thought oops 💦) here we go with some fluffy nose kiss tillchard, I love them a lot 💕

meme / 1 / 2 / 3 / please support me if you like my art ♥

#asks #myart #ill get a patreon soon i think #so i can upload smut as well or so #ugh honestly love that meme but that pose was so wrong drawn i really got problems lmao #the face? the hands and arms? dude that all doesnt work like this #but they ended up cute and oop #love em #looove em #tillchard #richard z kruspe #rzk #till lindemann #rammstein #r+ #fanart #kiss #meme #request