#Cliff Booth x reader

[bradpittwh0re]

cliff booth icons in Once Upon a Time... in Hollywood(2019) dir. Quentin Tarantino 

[shelbgrey]

-Cliff Booth aesthetic

[eudaimaniacs]

dating cliff booth headcanons! (cliff booth x female reader)

character/universe: cliff booth (once upon a time... in hollywood)

warning/s: mentions of smut and spoilers for both the movie and book

notes: i am back from the dead and it is quite funny. looking back at my past works, it's a bit of a mess with the characters i write about from anime to pedro pascal. wrote this since cliff booth is one of my favorite movie characters and he makes me horny. i got inspired from reading the book and let me tell you, cliff is freakier there. i am unsatisfied with the lack of cliff booth fanfics here! anyways, enjoy! (scroll if you're not a fan or haven't watched this movie)

Dating Cliff Booth is like the wind; it is free and cooling. His chill demeanor and unrestricted spirit match the hot, searing Californian weather.

Long night drives in his Karmann Ghia are the best. Even though there are countless men with expensive cars, Cliff's broken-down one satisfies you more. You lay down on his lap as he drives anywhere that leads the both of you. Cliff drives fast on the vast road but still manages to sneak in a few kisses.

During the day, you persuade Cliff to go to the beach to chill, have a picnic, or have sex in his car. Afterward, both of you go for a swim on whatever beach he drives to.

Sex with Cliff is mindblowing, to say the least. He does it anywhere: the car, kitchen table, in the middle of nowhere, movie sets, etc. This man's sex drive is unbelievable, and you can't fathom how you keep up with it.

Whenever he's not in the mood, Cliff encourages you to be naked in the comfort of your shared home. He adores your body, especially when you wear things he likes: babydoll dresses, miniskirts, sheer dresses, his Hawaiian shirt, and graphic t-shirts. Cliff won't let you tear yourself down with the beauty standards of Hollywood.

Even with the controversial age gap and relationships Cliff has had in the past, you ignore people's comments and continue dating the chill Hollywood stuntman. Men like him are hard to find in the movie industry, and you wouldn't give up dating him because of other's opinions.

Walks with his beloved pitbull Brandy are fun as he recounts stories of his time in war and career as a stuntman. Cliff truly loves the two females he has in life right now.

You met Cliff when you starred in a movie with Rick Dalton. The two of you hit it off instantly. Even if he's not Rick's stuntman, Cliff remains humble and starts supporting your movie career. You don't see him as an assistant but an equal partner.

You try not to ask Cliff about his deceased wife as it might anger or trigger the tragic memory. When your friends press you about the issue, you have a heart-to-heart conversation with him, and Cliff tells you the truth but explains his side. You sympathize with your partner and promise not to bring the topic up again.

Overall, Cliff Booth may look like a stereotypical Hollywood stuntman and womanizer, but his hippie vibes and free spirit say otherwise.

eudaimaniacs - 2024

[soft-for-them]

Apologies - Once upon a time in Hollywood & plus size reader

Summary: You and Rick, like most siblings do, aren't talking because of an argument. The only thing getting you both to apologise to each other is a group of cult members trying to kill you. (Platonic, reader is Rick's step sister who he's helped raise, so no shipping.)

Trigger warning: Descriptions of fighting and injury, this fic is mainly based in the scene in the film were the Manson family try to kill Cliff, Francesca and Rick, so yeah, there's blood.

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated and help more people read my works.

A/N: I like the idea of writing more fics with the sister reader, idk I think it would be sweet.

The ever constant headache for you both had started around fifteen years ago, you being around five years old whist your older step brother was in his prime staring in Hollywood films and bedding super models like it was a causal Tuesday night.

Around that time your mother had remarried Rick Dalton’s father and them both wanting to get away from it all (aka you) had dropped you off at a random film set were extras roamed around in fake blood and plastic disembodied limbs littered the ground like gravel.

Your ‘parents’ didn’t care that they had dropped you off on the day were a massacre scene was being shoot. Thinking back to that blurry memory you think they hadn’t even realised it was a high budget horror flick Rick was staring in, all they thought about at that time was ditching the hyperactive child on the rich enough son who probably could hire a baby sitter unlike they could.

Whilst Rick spent most of the day dazzling the camera crew and his female co-lead you had spent most of the day in the makeup trailer been cooed over by the hair and makeup ladies whilst stuffing your face with cheese puffs and apple juice.

At one point Cliff Booth had hobbled in, cigarette hanging from his bloody lips and his leg aching from the dangerous stunt he had just performed, his blue eyes going wide as a little curly haired child cheered as he entered the makeup trailer.

“Why is there a child in here?” he had asked whilst taking the cigarette from his lips with one hand whilst trying to rub off the fake blood dribbling from his face with the other.

The makeup ladies had to quickly wipe his face off with soaked cotton balls and wet wipes because he was just making the red mess even worse all whilst a bright eyed you began babbling to him like you knew him forever.

“I’m five!” you had happily declared as one of the women whispered the situation to Cliff.

“That you are little lady.”

So for the next hour instead of fucking off smoking half a pack and challenging cocky actors to fights Cliff Booth spent his time entertaining you. He had no clue what to do with a child but he knew at that moment he had to protect you, he’d always did with Rick and call it an itch but he had a feeling that you were going to stick around.

Now fifteen years later, you complain to Cliff as you dry brush a fake sword’s blade with a rust brown paint, pots of paints and film props surrounding you at your little prop master’s table ready to topple over.

Over the many years you’ve been in and out of your brother’s life, mostly due to your parent’s inability to look after you correctly, you’ve grown to loath the big screen and all the entitled people that comes with it, instead falling in love with the small screen and indie films.

Many days you’ve spent watching Star Trek or Colombo on the telly with Rick pointing out which sets and props look to be made of Styrofoam and flimsy plastic.

Now at the age of twenty you have solid work as a prop maker for television. You love the job and you love the people.

Right at this moment you’re trying to make foam swords look real whilst Cliff tries to talk you around to apologising to your brother all because you called him an idiot for looking down on Spaghetti Westerns because they were ‘beneath him’.

“I’m not saying sorry Cliff.” You grumble as you dip your paint brush in a rusty looking solution made from many brown paints and diluting alcohol, “I didn’t spend most of my childhood stuck on his sofa watching B movies only for his failing ass to talk shit about them!”

Cliff hovers around you cluttered desk, the trailer you work in being cramped and filled to the brim with handmade props, no cigarette in sight for he has developed the habit of not smoking when you’re around (that and the trailer filled with props are so flammable that it would combust into flames at out flick of a lighter.)

“AND THEN, WHAT CLIFF!?!” your voice crescendos as you pad away any blotting paint on the prop sword, “He goes and does all those Spaghetti Westerns anyway getting the lead in that Nebraska Jim flick and what, a wife too! He’s funnelling money in the bin like it’s nothing and he still has the gall to talk shit about my line of work and what pictures I decide to create props for.”

You stand up you shin hitting leg of the table you work at making you swear up a storm.

Cliff only watches in slight amusement.

“I’ve worked on Star Trek you know, I’m friends with Leonard Nimoy, I’ve been inside DeForest Kelley house multiple times, I’ve been personally invited and gone to countless parties hosted by Grace Kelly and her husband all because I was nice to her that one time on the set of that musical film-“

“-I thought you didn’t like the Hollywood type.” Cliff asks in such brotherly way trying to get a rise out of you.

What, he might be fed up with your ongoing feud with Rick but he still sees you as his own little sister and he does find it fun teasing you.

“Yeah, well most of them I don’t but she is pretty and nice and she’s my friend- for fuck’s sake Rick is just jealous!”

“Well, that he might be squirt but I think-“ Cliff begins to guide you out the trailer away from the fumes of alcohol and oil paints, “- he might be more jealous that his little sister is being taken away by all these big wig actors.”

Hair a mess, paint covering your dungarees and magnifying glasses propped on top of your head like you some kind of mad scientist, a flow of extras on their break all in medieval garbs walking around, you turn around to Cliff with an anger on your face that melts into a profound sadness.

“He didn’t even invite me to his wedding, I haven’t even met his wife, for crying out loud Cliff I don’t want another absent father, I’ve already got plenty of those.”

Cliff was itching to get out a cigarette out of pocket but once he hears your outburst, once he sees your eyes welling up with tears and your round body slump somewhat he bounds over and engulfs you in a big hug that only fathers and father figurers know how to do.

“Come home and talk with Rick. I’ll be there and you can meet Francesca.”

You look up at Cliff as you both begin swaying in the hug.

“Can Brandy come to?”

“Of course kiddo-“ he says tightening his grip on you, “-to be honest I think she likes you the best.”

You let out a loud booming laugh that says ‘Ha! I knew it.’ one that gets Cliff laughing too.

I didn’t go quite as planned.

At first when you showed up Rick tried to act like nothing had happened, he did his normal smooching. He offered you a drink and smiled that movie star smile at you all whilst not introducing you to his wife who stood in the background slightly confused at the odd ordeal.

You waved off his offer of a drink and went straight to the fridge plucking out a can of beer.

“You want one Francesca?” you had asked, she replied with a baffled ‘no’ before you plonked yourself down on the sofa making yourself right at home.

You truly wonder what Francesca Capucci thought at that very moment seeing a round young woman with a smile like Mama Cass and a the grace of Etta James all rolled up in pain stained dungarees and Dr. Martens boots.

One thing lead to another, you and Francesca became fast friends whilst Rick and Cliff went off for drinks, and now you're lounging on Rick’s sofa with Brandy’s head on your lap and Cliff offering you a LSD laced cigarette which he’s been smoking.

“Shit, things must be bad if you’re smoking near me?” you grumble as you pat Brandy’s head with a lazy hand, “Nothing was resolved so let’s get shit faced, because that always goes well.”

“At least you met Francesca.” Cliff mutters as his face turns all smiley as the drugs take effect.

“Hum, yeah, she’s real pretty ain’t she…” you ponder out loud as the front door gets kicked in.

You jump up slightly, Brandy not too bothered by the two greasy haired people clad in black who stand there trying to look menacing.

“Ahhhh, can I help you?” Cliff asks.

Another one appears all in black too, her face a pale sickly white, a knife in her hand.

And to think your day couldn’t get any worse because oh boy, it does.

One moment you’re complaining to Cliff about your idiot brother with Brandy on your lap trying to cheer you up, the next thing you know you have a gun aimed at your face by the ‘horsey’ guy and Francesca only in her underwear being forced out into the living room by the redhead.

Thank fuck Cliff is both level headed and slightly crazy at the same time because one moment he’s laughing like a clown and the next Brandy is attacking the fuckers which gives you a bit of time to move out the way of the gun.

It’s when this so called Tex starts hitting Brandy do you snap out you little panicked trace (having a gun aimed at you does that to a person) do you leap over the sofa and begin punching him square in the face, your body holding him down so he can’t kick his way out of it, Brandy still mauling his arm like it was a tug rope.

By the time Cliff has thrown the can at the face of the pale woman, knocking her straight down and breaking her little white nose, you’re fully on top of Tex trying to knock him out.

Now, you were never the best puncher, when you were fourteen you punched a bully who was teasing you about your weight only to breaking your thumb in the process, by my gosh is the adrenaline kicking in has you trying to knock out Tex.

The frightened screams of Francesca in the background spurs you on, the fear of the nice (and very attractive) woman getting hurt making you see red.

Maybe you’ll unpack your childlike crush on the starlet along with the ongoing feud with your brother later on when you’re not trying to wrestle a grown man (said grown man who’s now getting his balls bit by Brandy.)

(Brandy will defiantly get all the treats and cuddles later on.)

“CLIFF! DO SOMETHING YOU DUMB BITCH!” you scream as Tex punches at you, some hits missing but most slamming right into your soft sides.

Doing something Cliff clicks his fingers and Brandy is off mauling Samara. At the same time Tex pushes you off him and charges at Cliff like an angry bull, one eye already going black from you repeated punches.

It’s all a fucking shambles all culminating in you climbing through a smashed window to see your dear brother Rick using his fucking flamethrower to burn the pale bitch like he was finishing crème brulee with a blow torch.

How fun.

“Rick! Be careful!” you try to scream but it only comes out as a pain filled garbled, “Rick.”

Your last call of ‘Rick’ sounds more like a sob than a word, your soft body in so much pain. Your face is stained with splatters of blood and trails of big fat tears which when Rick sees he scrambles to take off his flamethrower (safely of course) to run over to you and engulf you in the biggest of hugs.

Your cries of your brother’s name as you break down and cling onto him cause the older man to start crying ugly tears, ones that are louder that your own sobs.

“I’m sorry Rick.” you sniffle out.

“I’m sorry too-“ he lays a kiss on your hair and starts rocking you side to side in the tight hug like he used to do when you were little and had a nightmare, “I’ve been ignoring you and I didn’t tell you about Francesca.”

“I’m sorry too for ignoring you as well.”

“I’m sorry for being so mean-“

For the next ten minutes the two of you prattle off many apologises, too many really, so much so that when the red and blue flashing lights of emergency services clouds your blurry vision and paramedics try to pry you away from Rick you’re both still apologising.

[bananawafers]

IT IS DILF HOURS LADIES AND GENTLEMEN . we r xtra delulu today

[alittlebitofsainz]

- he kissed me right in front of my friends -

prompt: “i threw a party, he kissed me right in front of my friends, i felt so far from the cliffs.”

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: if you could have one birthday wish granted, it would be that you no longer had to hide your relationship.

a/n: lyrics from track #89 there it goes by maisie peters :)

masterlist | the spotify wrapped collection

“hey, happy birthday baby!”

you couldn’t help but let your lips curve into a soft smile as lando pressed a kiss to your cheek, holding out a bag full of presents as he stepped inside your apartment. you accepted it graciously, eyes wide at the sheer number of gifts.

“lan, you really didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to.” he cut you off with a shake of his head, “for my special girl.”

he leaned forward to press a kiss to your lips, but you quickly batted him away.

“careful, lan, people might see!” you giggled, looking up at him like he’d lost his mind. it had been eight months of keeping your relationship under wraps, and while you both understood why it had to be that way, it still didn’t make it easy. it was moments like these where you yearned for a normal relationship, one where your partner wasn’t in the spotlight, one where he could give you a kiss on your birthday and it wouldn’t be plastered all over social media the next day. but it was worth it, you thought as you looked up at lando’s face, eagerly waiting for you to open your presents. it was worth it to call him yours, even if it was only in secret.

yeah, it was worth it, you thought, as you watched lando laughing uncontrollably at something max had said, the two of them stationed behind the dj booth you’d hired for the party. in general, lando didn’t go much on drinking, and he’d sworn off djing for the most part, but he was willing to make exceptions for your special day, and you smiled to see him enjoying himself. your best friend followed your gaze, noticing you phasing out of the group conversation you were in, and nudged you.

“you’re staring, y/n. you totally fancy him.” she teased, and for a moment you almost slipped up, you almost replied with yeah, I really do. but you caught yourself, instead laughing it off with a sharp shake of your head, elbowing her right back.

“knock it off, we’re just mates.” you protested, but your friend arched an eyebrow and pursed her lips in a way that suggested that she didn’t quite believe you. she opened her mouth to reply, but at that moment, the lights shut off and the music cut out. you instinctively glanced over back towards the dj booth, eyes searching for lando, confused to find him gone. but the confusion only lasted for a moment as a glow of light emerged from the kitchen; twenty lit candles pressed into a cake, held up by lando as he brought it across the room towards you, all your friends joining in and singing happy birthday to you. you grinned, feeling tears prick your eyes. god, you’d never been happier. there was only one thing that could’ve made this day more incredible, and you sighed to yourself as you watched lando bring the cake closer, lowering it slightly so you could blow out the candles. his eyes locked on yours for just a moment, and you swore you felt your heart stop.

“make a wish.” he murmured.

you blew out the candles, earning a cheer and a few hip hip hoorays from your friends gathered around you. lando set the cake down on the table, another friend stepping in to help cut and distribute it to guests, allowing you just a moment to talk whilst everyone was distracted.

“what did you wish for?” he asked, voice low, making you lean in to be able to hear him above the music which had started up again. you arched an eyebrow.

“if I tell you, it won’t come true.” you retorted, the corner of your lips curving up into a wry smile. it always gave you butterflies, flirting with lando in public. something about it made you feel like you were still in that stage where anything could happen, like you were just starting to get to know him all over again. his expression changed slightly as he reached into his back pocket.

“now don’t yell at me, but I got you one last present.”

“lando!” you protested; you’d already admonished him earlier after you’d opened all your gifts from him. you could tell he’d spent a lot of money, more than you believed you deserved, on anything you’d ever mentioned wanting. shoes, a nice handbag, a designer coat, expensive earrings. but it wasn’t just material things, he’d got tickets to than gig you mentioned you wanted to go to, taken out an annual membership for the gardens you always liked going to for some peace and quiet, donated money to the shelter your parents adopted the family dog from. it was far too much, yet lando insisted it wasn’t enough to show you how much he loved you.

“I said don’t yell at me!” he replied playfully, producing a small wrapped item and holding it out to you, “it’s not an expensive one. it’s just… well, just open it and see.”

you peeled off the wrapping paper with gentle fingers, the package feeling so delicate in your hands compared to all the other larger gifts he’d showered you with. it revealed a gold necklace, with a single ‘L’ hanging from the chain. you looked at it, awestruck, running a finger over the gold letter.

“lan, this is beautiful.” you murmured softly.

“to remind you how much I love you, even if I can’t always show it.” he explained softly, and you felt a lump form in your throat. it was so bittersweet, you thought, as he took the necklace from your hands and instructed you to turn around so he could fasten it round your neck. the necklace was like some sort of twisted metaphor for your relationship, always there but often hidden. you turned back to face him, glancing down to admire the jewellery for a moment. if people saw this, it wouldn’t take them long to join the dots, to make the connection, especially if you were next to lando. you sighed, reaching to take the ‘L’ between your fingers and tuck it under your top, to hide it away. but lando’s hand was on yours in an instant, holding it in place, his fingers clasped round yours, clasped round the golden letter. you looked up in surprise.

“don’t hide it.” he said softly, “fuck it. I want people to see it. I want them to know.”

the confidence with which he had said it startled you, but in the best way. you barely had time to process the words before his hand had snaked around your waist, pulling you to him, his lips on yours in an instant. it wasn’t a gentle kiss; it was a kiss that let everyone know, without a shadow of a doubt, that you were his, and he was yours.

you pulled away for a moment, eyes on him, but in your peripheral vision you clocked a few of your friends watching the two of you, mouths open, slices of cake forgotten about. your best friend had a smug grin on her face, one that said that she knew all along. you saw max begrudgingly slip pietra a ten pound note. lando saw it too, and laughed. and then you laughed. and then you kissed him again.

“happy birthday.” he murmured, resting his forehead on yours.

“I got my birthday wish.” you murmured in reply.

a/n: and thus concludes the little ‘just friends’ mixtape! check out the previous tracks below:

told her you were just a friend | just don’t want your friend to see

[arthenaa]

blurred lines — mizu x f!reader

synopsis: your relationship with your roommate often threads the lines between friends and of something more.

content: fluff, suggestive themes, modern! au, roommate!mizu one jumping off a cliff joke mentioned, taigen, ringo, and akemi being great friends, mizu uses she/her pronouns, she/her pronouns for reader as well, mizu and you call each other bon/bonnie as an endearment, mizu is ur bf but not rlly your bf yk, mutual pining

song will be later mentioned in the story but listen to it while you're reading <3

It isn't to anyone's surprise that more often than not, people mistake you and Mizu as a couple. It's gotten bad to the point that it's already counted as an inside joke in your little group of five.

Taigen was the main culprit of the joke (as usual). He often lets his tongue run loose in the most random of situations. Whatever piques his interest, he always has something to say about it. You're not sure if it's because of Taigen's natural person magnet trait but surely, you think this is somehow his fault.

"I just want to say how adorable of a couple you two are!" A person from your year—someone you had met in passing during your Ethics class for sure—gushed as she sat down on the empty seat in front of you. You stare at her, mouth slightly agape in shock at the sudden intrusion, Akemi chortles from her seat while Mizu's starting to look like she's about to commit homicide. It was currently your free period, hoping for a time to relax and wait for your next class, you sure weren't expecting to be bombarded by a series of questions about your love life. You're hoping that both of your unwelcomed stares would drive this person away, but the gal continues off on a tangent. "Not to be like—a real gossipy person, but like, I heard from Sanchez that you guys were dating, and I had my suspicions back then during Ethics class but I just HAD to confirm it, y'know?"

You lock eyes with Akemi seated beside the girl as she hides her grin behind her drink. You're so going to wipe that smile off her face soon.

"I'm pretty sure that's none of your business," Mizu deadpans as she stares at her under her tinted glasses. She taps her index finger on the surface of the table, a telltale sign of her impatience. The girl remains oblivious.

"Oh, come on! We were groupmates last semester! I'm pretty sure we're already close enough to know stuff like this," She sends the both of you a wink to which you wince as Mizu stiffens beside you. You're sure it was taking a real toll on her to prevent her from committing a felony and so you've decided to step up.

"I-I'm sorry," You give her a sheepish smile, hand raised to provide a calm reassurance of not being hostile. "I'm sure you mean well and everything but we're really tired. Whatever you're thinking, it's a no."

You give her your best award-winning smile with the hopes that she'll leave you both alone. You see her slightly pull back, finally reading the room but she pauses at the last second as Mizu wraps an arm around your waist. You're not sure why the girl gives you a cheeky grin as she adjusts her bag on her shoulder but your resolve is soon starting to waver if she doesn't get her ass off your table.

"Alright, whatever you say," She coos, eyes squinting playfully as she gathers herself off your booth. "I'll leave you two lovebirds alone. See you around!"

The three of you watch as she makes her way out of the shop before your shoulders release the tension you've both been holding over the past few minutes. Akemi chuckles at your expressions

"Oh my god, If you hadn't done that I would've gone off the rails," Mizu groans as she rests her head on the table.

"You should've, to be honest, might make this whole debacle a lot more interesting than whatever you have with Y/N," Akemi snickers from her seat as Mizu sends her a glare. "Funniest thing I've seen all semester. Keep it up."

"You're full of shit," Mizu grumbles from her seat. Akemi flashes her her middle finger. You roll your eyes at their banter.

"I don't get what's the big deal," You cross your arms over your chest. "I mean people do the things me and Mizu do all the time."

Akemi gives you a blank stare. "I mean this in the best possible way but if I didn't love you and you said that to me, I would actually slap your face."

"I can slap your face for free, right now."

"Not now, Mizu," You nudged her knee in retaliation as the blue-eyed girl grumbled in response. "Also, bullshit. That's unfair."

Akemi rolls her eyes before slamming her drink down on the table. "That's unfair? You two are basically me and Taigen if Taigen grew the balls to actually court me instead of parading his biceps like a damn himbo. That honestly felt like I'd lost 20 years of my life. She's at your beck and call and even fucking ditches our hangouts just because you had a little cold. That's what's unfair."

You stare at her with furrowed eyebrows as she huffs and takes an angry sip of her drink. You slowly nod, trying to get a sense of her reasoning. Well, you and Mizu had developed a natural sense of service-giving to each other. After all, your deep friendship was only a resort of living together. Wouldn't anyone be that considerate to their best friends?

"I swear to God," Akemi places a hand in front of her mouth as she looks between the two of you. Mizu had already tuned her out, opting to hug you close by the waist and leaning her head on your shoulder as she took the time to rest. "I'm so close to throwing myself off the cliff figuratively and it's both of your fault."

You roll your eyes at her, crumpling a tissue paper before throwing it towards her. The gal dodges it with ease before scrunching her nose.

"You're overreacting."

"Sure," Akemi squints her eyes. "Whatever fits your story."

You're not sure when it started but somehow Akemi's words started to get to you. You knew, for sure, (you think?) that she was just bluffing. Your relationship with Mizu was yours and yours alone, anything between the two of you must be kept between the two of you only. It wasn't as if the comments of other people had affected you—you often tend to brush them off, treating some of them as either praises of your close bond or jokes due to their easygoing nature. You're not sure if it's because of Akemi's short-tempered personality that you've started to notice things too.

"Here," Mizu's voice startles you out of your focus. You turn your head to see the raven-haired gal, hair down and cozy in a black hoodie and sweatpants. You had been studying and getting things done at your uni's library as finals were nearing. The desk at your dorm and the familiarity of your room seemed to mess up with your productivity and so you decided to change venues. Mizu, being the good-hearted angel that she is, drops a cup of coffee beside you and a bag of your favorite food. She then tucks her hands into the pockets of her hoodie.

You look up at her with a pout, eyes softened. "You didn't have to."

Mizu pats your head before gingerly pulling the seat next to you. She sits down and leans her head on her arm perched on the table. "It's the least I could do. You're working hard."

You smile at her praise, glancing at the worksheets sprawled on your table. It wouldn't hurt to take a break, no?

Mizu gives you a raise of an eyebrow as you turn your body towards her, copying her form. Your lips pull into a small smile as you reach out to brush her loose locks. "It's way past your curfew. You should've just slept."

Mizu snorts. "You say that like I'm a child."

You reach out to pinch her cheek causing her to swat your hand away. Letting out a few giggles as she scrunches her nose at you. You would've continued to act normal afterward, there was nothing to freak out over but then Mizu started staring at you with that gaze of hers. Usually, you would either jokingly stare back or playfully ignore her but somehow this time, you're suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious. You let out a cough as you turn back toward your worksheets, unable to handle the intensity of her gaze.

Not sure if she noticed it or what, you make quick haste to get back on track with your studying. About 15 minutes in, you hear shifting beside you. Thinking that it's her cue to go, you turn toward her with curiosity but then your chair moves swiftly to her side. You let out a yelp as she moves your chair with one arm, closer toward her.

"Mizu—!" You squeak at the sudden movement as she lets out a few chuckles at your reaction. Soon enough, a deep flush bursts across your cheeks due to the sudden proximity. She's faced toward you, legs spread to accommodate your figure, and her other arm perched on the back of your chair.

You feel your heart speed up as she leans close and smiles. "Get back to studying, Bonnie."

You obediently follow her orders as you lower your head to get back to answering the worksheets in front of you. You hear Mizu chuckle beside you as you willed yourself to continue writing and ignore her very existence.

Heart? Speed up? What the fuck?

There's a moment of reprieve before you feel the sudden thump of Mizu's head against your shoulder.

"What's up?" You hum gingerly, your free hand moving up to gently pet her head. Mizu shifts her body close, the arm at the back of your chair pulling your shoulder and body to her.

"Do you want Italian or Chinese?" She asks out of the blue, eyes watching you write down equations and numerical formulas on your paper. Your heart softens as you feel her other hand envelope over your stomach, pulling you into a side hug.

There weren't many people around the library at this time of the night besides the occasional suffering computer science major seated at the far end of the library and the librarian herself. Mizu allows herself to be vulnerable within your care. You eye your worksheets, debating finishing them or giving your cute roommate dozing off on your shoulder attention.

Nah, fuck it.

You gently close your notes before cupping Mizu's cheek, softly pulling her up from your shoulder.

"Hm?" Mizu hums as she slowly blinks at you, face leaning towards your touch as you cup her face gingerly within your palms. You give her a soft smile, thumbs running softly across her cheeks.

"Ordering takeout might be a bit too much right now," You quietly whisper to her, eyes crinkling playfully. She lets out a few chuckles at your response. "Although, I recall having a waffle mixture back at our dorm and we still have your dad's waffle maker. What do you say?"

Her gaze darts over you face before she pulls away from your touch. You look at her curious as she scoots to the edge of her seat before pulling you into a hug. The raven-haired girl burrows her face on your neck, letting a loud sigh of relief as she encased you in her arms.

"Alright," She mumbles on the collar of your shirt, breath tickling your neck. You flush at her proximity, opting to rest your head gently against hers. Just as the two of you would continue to bask in each other's presence, a cough alerts the two of you to pull away.

Your eyes dart toward the culprit as the librarian raises her eyebrow toward the both of you.

"You can take your couple date elsewhere if you both have nothing better to do here." The old lady deadpans, fanning herself with her foldable fan. The both of you stare as she gives you one last judgmental look before walking away. Mizu wordlessly helps you pack up your stuff, leaving the library with you trailing behind with your ears flushed red.

"Listen," Taigen takes a deep breath before continuing. "We're only choosing your dorm because Akemi has their annual dorm parties, Our kitchen broke so Ringo can't cook, and we know Mizu is a loaded motherfucker, alright? It's absolutely not because we want to see your icky mundane domestic life."

Mizu leans against the doorframe, staring Taigen down as he finishes his piece. You, on the other hand, can only smile from your spot behind Mizu. It had been your scheduled movie night with friends and originally, it was Ringo and Taigen's turn to host but due to unfortunate circumstances, the duty of hosting befell on your shoulders again. Albeit, a bit rushed this time.

Akemi rolls her eyes beside Taigen before stepping up towards the doorway and pushing her way through Mizu's defense (Mizu let her in, she didn't do anything wrong). Ringo smiles gleefully from his spot beside Taigen before sliding his way inside and pulling you in a hug (again, Mizu let him in, he's the only person who can actually cook).

"Y/N!" Your tall bubbly-bear looking friend cheers as he swings you back and forth in his hug. You giggle as you return the gesture, slightly pulling away and patting his cheeks. Ringo grins. "I missed you!"

You playfully roll your eyes at him. "Oh come on Ringo, I saw you last week."

"Too long!" Ringo whines as he rests his head on top of yours. Your heart warms at Ringo's affections. Your dear friend was a walking talking incarnation of a life-sized teddy bear. The two of you continue to giggle at each other's presence, not noticing the pair of blue eyes trained on you.

"Oi, Ring," Mizu calls out from her position by the doorway, eyes pulled into a glare. Ringo stiffens beside you at her tone. You could only blink your eyes at her with a curious gaze. "Get your ass in the kitchen."

"On it!" Ringo makes no haste and eventually bolts to your dorm's kitchen. You place your hand on your hips as you stare at her with a raised eyebrow. Mizu only looks away before catching a sneaking Taigen trying to move his way inside. The raven-haired girl slams her hand on the doorframe preventing Taigen from entering.

"Where do you think you're going?" Mizu asks with a threatening glare. Her eyes squint as you watch Taigen sweatdrop.

"C'mon, man! I just want to fucking watch Ryan Gosling, can you let me in?!" Taigen whines, stomping his foot. Mizu's face stays blank, hand clutching the doorframe. Taigen resorts to plan B and looks up at you from his spot with the most disturbing try of puppy eyes. "Y/N, please I'll treat you all the fucking bobas you want just please pull your war freak of a wife away from me."

You chuckle as he clasps his hands together, ignoring Mizu's pointed glare. You knew that Mizu would let him in either way. After all Mizu says, and you quote, "It's like leaving a fucking dog outside with all that yapping."

Finally deciding to help Taigen, your eyes gaze at Mizu's back with a smile. "Bon, c'mon leave him be."

There's a pause of silence before Mizu eases up on the doorway and eventually side steps. Taigen lets out a noise of victory before making quick steps toward you and places a kiss on the side of your temple.

"This is why you're my favorite," Taigen crinkles his eyes playfully. You roll your eyes, slapping his arm.

"You said that to Akemi 3 days ago."

"The past is past, what matters is the pre—"

A loud smack on the head propels Taigen forward causing your eyes to widen. You turn to Mizu who looks at him with disgust.

"I let you in and you still yap like a dog. Do you want me to kick you out again?" Mizu stands next to you with a menacing glare. You watch in amusement as Taigen frowns, rubbing the back of his head.

"Goddamn, just fucking marry this emotionally constipated motherfucker please so that I may find peace," Taigen makes a pointed look towards you. "I hate that I'm always at the receiving end of your punches when Y/N doesn't give you a bit of her atten—AGH!"

You let out a few giggles as you watched Mizu try and kick him away from where the two of you were standing. The poor man cowers behind Akemi who elbows him off her figure as she tries to browse through you and Mizu's shared Netflix account.

Your eyes glance toward Mizu who grumbles under her breath before turning towards you.

"Never let him in our dorm ever again please." Mizu deadpans prompting soft laughs from your lips. You then watch as Mizu walks toward you, eyes squinting at the side of your temple before grabbing your face with one hand—cheeks smushed.

"Mijuuuu," You whine as she tilts your head to the side. You notice her gaze on where Taigen kissed you. Your eyebrows furrowed as Mizu reached you with the sleeve of her hoodie pulled over her fingers. She then makes harsh wiping movements on your temple causing you to groan.

"Ow." You sob playfully as she finishes her ministrations. Mizu then turns your head towards her, the corners of her lips slightly upturned as she squishes your face within her grasp.

"Cute." She mumbles before leaning down to place a chaste kiss on your forehead. Your heart thumps against your chest—eyes wide as a deep flush rises to your ears. Whether Mizu noticed it or not, she only pulled away and walked over to where Akemi and Taigen were—both too busy fighting each other for the remote (Akemi wants horror but Taigen insists on a Ryan Gosling marathon).

You stand still in the hallway, breath hitching as you try to calm yourself down.

Unfair.

There's a nagging thought at the back of your head that you think that you might've been a little bit too lenient with Mizu.

Your friendship and current situation as roommates didn't start off in a good footing. Having met Ringo and Mizu during freshman orientation, you had no choice but to stick close to them due to the unfamiliar environment. Ringo welcomed you with open arms while Mizu didn't care if you joined or not. Apparently, she didn't really care about Ringo or you.

It was safe to say that your first impression of your roommate with her ever-perpetual stone-cold glare had not been the best. After all, she had ignored you most of the time and tended to stray away from your group of three.

It was during that time that she had issues with her current roommate who always tried to bring people in as a one-night stand that the two of you decided on common ground.

You were out that night, going on a quick walk break from midterms when you saw Mizu complaining at the front desk. Still considering her your friend albeit a bit hesitant due to her off-putting nature, you hear Mizu complain to the landlord. You overheard her issues with her roommate and decided to offer your space up as your previous roommate had shifted courses, was transferred to a farther building, and therefore had to move to a closer dormitory. She seemed awkward but grateful enough to accept your offer.

Then things are where they are now. After knowing and living with each other for at least 2 years now, your closeness with Mizu didn't really bother you. It was nice being comfortable enough to just be authentic in front of somebody without the fear of getting judged. Mizu tends to be quite direct with her words and doesn't like to bluff around. That's what you kind of love and hate about her.

Love because she's upfront—what you see is what you get. She gives you thoughtful advice, the most rational between the two of you, mature and level headed enough to tell you the truth when nobody else would. Hate because sometimes she's too direct. Direct about your mistakes and wrongdoings but also direct about what she feels.

Like this instance.

"Mizu?" Your feet cladded socks thump loudly against the wooden floor, waddling your way toward your roommate who is busy mopping the living room.

"Yeah?" She calls out, hair tied in her usual bun as she continues to clean. She hears you enter the area, turning towards you with her hand outstretched. "Careful. Floor's wet."

"Yeah, yeah." You grab her hand, watching as she puts the mop away to the side. Finally having her undivided attention, you swing your hands back and forth as you come to say what you went for in the first place. "So y'know how Akemi got her internship at that company she really worked hard for?"

"Mmh."

"Then she was offered like a position right?"

"Mmh."

"So like, as a reward for her great performance, she got tickets for us to watch Laufey next week."

Mizu's eyebrows raised in recognition. "Really?"

You nod your head with enthusiasm, smile brimming from ear to ear. Mizu's eyes softened as she lets you continue.

"So I was wondering," You bite your bottom lip as your hand shifts to wrap around her index finger—still swaying it back and forth. "Can you help me find an outfit, please?"

Mizu hums as you peer at her with an excited grin. The raven-haired woman glances at her unfinished work before sighing.

"I suppose cleaning can wait." She responds before getting pulled in a hug.

"Thank you! Thank you!" You make careful tiptoes around her work as you walk back to your room.

It takes Mizu about 7 minutes to finally reach your room with a soft knock on your door. You tell her to come in as she gently opens the door to walk inside.

"Options?" Mizu sighs in relief as she plops down on the bed. You tell her your options and Mizu nods for you to try them on.

It takes a while for both of you to decide—eventually having to stick with two dresses. Finally trying the last dress on, you twirl in front of the mirror, examining the way you look before meeting Mizu's eyes on the reflection.

"That's the one," Mizu says with a soft tone. There's something about the way she eyes you up and down with a gentle look in her eyes paired with the soft tone of her deep voice. You pause, turning around to see her on the edge of your bed, arms resting on her knees—hands interlocked with her body leaned forward. Those hues of blue peer up at you with half-lidded eyes. Your cheeks heat up.

She breathes a heavy breath before motioning for you to come over with a come hither motion of her fingers. "C'mere."

You make slow steps toward her form, a couple of inches away from each other. You look down at her as she eyes you up, an unreadable look on her face before she suddenly stands up from her seat. Suddenly you're reminded of Mizu's height, albeit only a couple of inches taller than you, you still had to crane your neck at a distance as close as you were now. Suddenly the air seemed thick and constricting.

There's a sudden tension filling the air as the two of you only look into each other's eyes. You find yourself unable to blink as you admire her features. A mix of handsome and pretty—a face you've seen countless times and yet still be in awe of.

Just as the moment had started, Mizu suddenly ends it with a flick on your forehead causing you to blink.

"Hey!" You whine at the sudden gesture, hands reaching up to touch the spot she flicked at. Mizu smirks, chuckling.

"You blinked, I won."

You scoff at her. "Unfair."

She then fixes the fabric of your dress, making sure that the pleats and the flow is positioned nicely. Then the next few words stun you.

"You look really beautiful, Y/N." She says with such a genuine tone that it leaves you speechless. Seeing your reaction she lets out a few laughs then pinches your cheek. You let out a chuckle at the sound of her laughter.

"Favorite Laufey song?" You tilt your head in curiosity as you look up at her with a smile. Mizu softly blinks with a gentle smile.

"Serendipity."

Your hands slam against the wooden surface of the desk inside the library's discussion room. Three pairs of eyes—one filled with curiosity, one with indifference, and one with annoyance. You breathe heavily as you lock eyes with each one.

"I think I like Mizu."

Suddenly Taigen stands up from his seat and applauds you—Ringo, ever the sweetheart he is, smiles at you and waves his arms for a little celebration dance.

"Congratulations, Sherlock," Taigen smiles sarcastically. "If I had to watch the two of you in an eternal battle of who's the most oblivious, I would already have a degree in Bachelor of No Communication, Major in being a pussy and a minor in having mommy issues."

Akemi gives him a disgusted glare. "Can you shut the fuck up or is being a yapper your honest profession?"

"Alright," Taigen raises his hands. "Chill."

Akemi rolls her eyes before looking at you with her lips upturned. "Happy that you're finally realizing it, hun."

You groan as run your palms over your face. "That's the problem!"

"Why's that a problem?" Ringo asks innocently. You pull yours hands down with a huff.

"It's Mizu."

"So?" Akemi raises an eyebrow.

"Mizu's my best friend," You whine. "I can't risk it when I don't know if she feels the same."

"Be fucking for real right now." Akemi deadpans as she crosses her arms over her chest. "The damn woman looks at you as if you've just given her the stars and the moon. Y'know know how much I envy that?"

Taigen nudges Akemi beside him with a pout. Akemi glances at him with a sigh. "I was just making a point. You'd have to be dumb stupid to not notice anything at all, Y/N."

You purse your lips as you sheepishly look at Akemi like a child being punished.

"You did, didn't you?" Akemi squints her eyes with a smile. "Precisely why I favor you over that emotional catastrophe of a woman. I suggest taking the chance. It's not every day that you find someone that's a complete fit for you."

Akemi gives you a soft smile. You purse your lips as Taigen gives you a thumbs up.

"You can do it, Y/N." Ringo smiles at you from his seat. "If there's anything I know about Mizu, it's that she cares for you a lot more than you think."

You nod, encouraged by your friends' advice and reassurance. While Mizu's someone you didn't want to lose, you'd rather take the risk on giving her the love she deserves rather than keeping it buried within you.

Finally, your resolve is built and strengthened. It's just Mizu, it should be alright.

To put things simply, it had been 3 weeks since your talk with Taigen, Akemi, and Ringo.

The three have tried their very best to allow you to confess but somehow Mizu always has something to do or something keeps ruining the moment. Confessing in a cafe? Suddenly a random NPC interrupts. In the library? Librarian follows you everywhere with that judgmental gaze of hers after your previous altercation. Campus garden? Mizu's getting called for org duties. Your own dorm? Mizu's asleep.

You're at your wit's ends and while you can tell that all of this isnt intentionally done, you can still feel the frustration.

It's this night where you reach your final straw.

You had just gotten home after a day of requirements, finals, and activities. Mizu's schedule was moved a bit earlier causing the two of you to be quite busy due to the gap in the dates for your finals. When you're free, Mizu's taking an exam. When Mizu's got nothing to do, you're working your ass off in the library.

The finals season has completely ended and you're walking home with a fleeting mind and relieved sigh.

As you make the turn toward your dormitory, you notice a familiar head of black crouched over the sidewalk. Your eyebrows furrowed as you see Mizu busy with whatever caught her attention. Just as you reach at least a meter away from her, you see a fluffy white cat perk its head behind Mizu's figure, blue eyes sparkling with curiosity as it mews at your figure.

"Huh?" You hear Mizu hum before turning to face you. A look recognition passes her eyes. "Oh. You're home."

You fall silent as you continue to watch her pet the cat. You hear its purrs as it leans its head to Mizu's touch.

"I cooked hotpot upstairs," Mizu says, eyes still looking at you. Her hair is down, only pinned back by her glasses worn over her head. That little frail bang escapes with ease from it as she looks down to see the cat on its back, paws demanding a belly rub. She's wearing the black sweater you gave her with its sleeves rolled up to her arms.

Fuck. Why does she look so—

"I can tell you're spent," Mizu softly smiles at you. There's a slight breeze that gently ruffles her hair. "You did so well, Bonnie."

Then it's as if something snapped within you and there's nothing that could stop you from unleashing the pent up frustration of not getting a moment with her.

"Oh my god," Your gaze is unwavering as you stare at her figure. She raises an eyebrow at your response. "I'm so fucking in love with you."

Mizu stops her ministrations with the cat, figure tensing as the light breeze of the wind fills in the void. Your heart thumps as you breathe heavily, watching any sort of reaction for her shocked face.

Then it is as if you could hear a pin drop then a change in the atmosphere. Mizu is flushed deep red, eyes blinking as she stares at you with mouth agape.

Your eyebrows raise in amusement.

"Huh?"

"I love you." You repeat taking a step closer to her crouched form. She furrows her eyebrows, blush spreading up to her ears. Oh?

"I-I don't—"

You grin as you crouch in front of her, eyes trained on her shy features. "I said I love you."

"Y/N." Mizu grumbles as she tries to glare at you.

"What?" You shrug, smile brimming from ear to ear. The emotions on her face are clear as she stammers and stutters in front of you.

"That's not fair." She grits her teeth.

"What's not fair?" You tilt your head in amusement.

"I wanted to say it first." She mumbles as she looks down at the cat purring between the two of you.

You let out a soft laugh at her whining.

"Well, I'll pretend I didn't say anything and that I just walked back from school," Mizu eyes you in confusion as you stand back up and run a few meters away from her—back from where you previously stood. You clear your throat as you straightened yourself up. "Oh my god! Finals is so hard, if only there's a hot tall masculine woman to declare their love for me."

You end with a dramatic touch of the back of your hand against your forehead. Mizu chuckles, shaking her head before standing to her full height. She reaches you with ease, lips turned to a smile as her hands make their way to cup your face.

"You're an idiot," She grumbles with affection before pulling you in a kiss. There's no time wasted as you kiss back, clutching the fabric of her sweater as she tilts her head to deepen the kiss.

You squeak as you feel her tongue intertwine with yours. You feel yourself get lightheaded, melting in her touch as your arms wrap around her neck while hers takes hold of your waist. She pulls you closer with no distance left to break you apart. You whine as you feel her bite on your bottom lip, gently pulling it before pulling away. Heavy breaths are what fills the space between your bodies, eyes still trained on swollen red lips while want and need courses through your veins.

She lets out a grunt as she dives to taste more of you, pecking your lips once, twice—thrice before finally breaking off.

There's a moment of silence before hushed giggles errupted between the two of you—Mizu swaying your bodies as you both bask in each other's presence.

Hushed whispers, sweet nothings, wide smiles, and stolen kisses are all that's seen between two idiots in love. Before you can further enjoy your moment with Mizu, a loud meow interrupts your moment. The two of you look down at the cat licking its paw as it stares up at you both.

It swishes its tail back and forth, tilting its head before stretching. You and Mizu look at each other with a smile.

"You up for another roommate? Might be severely in love with you too." You tease as the cat leans its body against Mizu. Your girlfriend rolls her eyes. You giggle.

"Oh, shut up."

a/n:

you: *sees mizu w a cat* marry me

mizu: ?

projecting ken tendencies in taigen mb. akemi is a mood tbh.

[tosotd-wwe]

McLaren Orange

*based off the song “tennessee orange” by megan moroney*

lando norris x fem!reader

warnings: fluff *first person pov*

summary: y/n was raised in a ferrari family, but a special driver in the papaya car gets her to wear the mclaren orange.

I felt as if I was going to throw up. My hand hovered over my mothers contact, shaking from the knots in my stomach. I knew I shouldn't be nervous, but knowing the way my family is I couldn't help it. Finally after convincing myself to tap the icon, my phone began to ring. The ring went on an awful long time, making me feel even more terrified.

"Hi Mama," I say into the phone once she picked up.

"Hey darling," Her sweet voice echos into my ear. How am I supposed to tell her this?

"I've got some news for you," My voice cracks.

"Is everything alright? You're not in trouble are you?" Her tone becomes serious, I could tell she had her eyebrow raised looking towards my father.

"I'm not in trouble, Mama" I laugh slightly, "But, don't tell dad about this, please."

There was silence on the other side of the phone. I knew she was debating listening to my request, but also on not. I heard her shuffle around a bit. Maybe she headed into a different room for privacy.

"I know you guys raised me to know right from wrong, and I know you're thinking I did something wrong, but don't worry everything is okay." I sigh, "It's just, I've never really felt this way. I don't know where to start."

"You can tell me anything, sweetheart." She reassures me, my heartbeat already calming down.

"I met this guy," I mentally smack my head in embarrassment.

"Oh, I was expecting something totally different." She laughs loudly.

"He's got these gorgeous blue eyes." I feel my cheeks grow warm just thinking about the way his eyes look into mine. "He even opens the door for me. I don't think he's made me cry once."

I had met Lando after the Emilia-Romagna Grand Prix. A couple of my friends and I decided to go out for the night, we needed some freedom. Just that morning we were all wearing our red gear, cheering for the Ferrari's as they raced. Lando just happened to be at the club we decided to go to. He was with a couple of his friends, hanging around the dj booth in the back. I must have felt risky that day because I walked up to him, congratulating him on his race. Yes, I congratulated the enemy. We ended up talking a little longer. A little longer was the rest of the night.

"He's not from where we're from." I explained, "But, he feels like home somehow."

"Where's he from?" She qustions.

"The United Kingdom, Bristol actually." I tell her.

"He sounds like a very lovely guy," She compliments him. This makes my heart warm. Hopefully the rest of the story wont make her too upset.

"I've done things I've never done before with him, Mama." She could probably hear my wide smile through the phone. "He took me to this beautiful restaurant the other night. Oh, and we went cliff diving too!"

Talking about just a few of the adventures we had been on together already made my stomach burst with butterflies. Thinking back to when our hands were holding tight to each other as we jumped off the tall cliff, waiting for our fall to be caught by the blue water. When he gave me his jacket after our dinner because it was raining.

"There is one thing though," I hesitate.

"What is it?"

"Mama, he's a driver." I try to lead up to the fact that he's a big racing star, but not for our big team.

"He's a driver? Like a racer?" Her voice fills with excitement. "Are you dating Charles Leclerc?"

"No Mama, not him." I laugh, "He's not on Ferrari."

Yet again there was a silence on the other end of the phone.

"Mama, he drives for McLaren." I whisper, a weight being lifted off my shoulders as I did so. "Lando Norris."

I heard the door open from the phone, she was walking up to my father.

"He took me to Spain with him, that's why I was gone for a little while. He gave me the hat he had sitting on his dash when we got to the airport." I try to distract her from telling any information to my father. As long as he's a good guy why should it matter? "Mama, can you forgive me? Don't tell dad, please. I like him a lot."

"Honey, I'm not mad at you. I can't change the fact you like this boy. As long as he doesn't make you forget you look better in red." She sighs, the phone now on speaker mode.

"I don't know, his smile makes me forget sometimes." I fiddle with the rings on my finger.

"Hi daddy," I say quietly, knowing hes listening into the conversation. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help it."

"Your mother and I are so happy for you, Y/n. I could never be mad at you for chasing your heart."

"I still am rooting for Ferrari, don't worry." I laugh, feeling relieved by their acceptance. "But if you every see me wearing McLaren. Just know I'm wearing the orange for him."

[taintandviolent]

feed my Frankenstein ; Frankenkyle x reader

summary: stripper!reader decides to dress up like a zombie for Halloween, and when the girls bring Kyle to the strip club…. He makes the decision for himself that he’s going to be with his kind. w a r n i n g s: 5k words! stripper!reader, female reader, cunnilingus, rough sex, violence, mentions of blood, biting, graphic descriptions. kyle being a big, horny zombie who doesn't understand his strength. a/n: [🎃 part of lizzie's halloween fics! 🎃] probably some errors, whoops. I didn't want to label this as dead dove don't eat, but Kyle literally tries to eat reader, so be warned, I guess??? also my ending is very... cliff-hangery. don't come for me, this fic took on a life of its own very quickly. thank you for reading if you did!!! full fic & taglist under cut!↓ / ao3 link here! / ♪ recommended playlist here! ♪

You dab a stippling sponge against your neck, hiding an edge with a speckle of grey makeup. You’d put a lot of effort into your silly little zombie look - but it was Halloween after all, and hardly any of the other girls had dressed up. Sure, they’d started out in low-effort costumes of Dorothy Gale and Snow White, but as soon as those came off, they were just their normal selves again. You… not so much. You went the extra mile. You’d spent hours applying prosthetics on your limbs, and painting your flesh to mimic the rotting corpses seen in cult classic horror films. Specks of blood around your perfectly lined lips, uneven skin, stitches from your neck down the front of your body.

It wouldn’t be everyone’s cup of tea, you knew. Some of them would lose their boners at the sight. It was time for your first shift. The club was rowdy, you heard it from behind the door. You lean against it, gulp down the last of your water, and fluff your hair before spinning on your red, patent leather heels and pulling open the door.

“I don’t know if this is such a good idea, Madison…” Zoe confesses, nervously. She holds onto Kyle’s arm tightly, guiding him around a booth like an elderly man. He was already entranced by the vibrant lights that swept back and forth in shades of orange and green. It reminded him of his show. Colours….

“Oh, please.” With a roll of her eyes, Madison flips her blonde hair over her shoulder. “This is the best place to put a braindead man… look, they’re everywhere.”

Men cluster around the stage, watching hungrily as women take their clothes off, gyrating their hips close enough to their faces that they could reach out and take bites  out of their full asses. The bouncer in the corner makes sure that doesn’t happen, though.

Over the PA, a loud voice says: “Alright! Put your hands together for our resident nerdy girl, our very own reanimated sexpot…”

As though it was on hinges, Kyle’s head swings heavily to face the stage. H

“Look, he’s already fitting in.” Madison nips.

You prance forward, reaching for the pole in the centre of the stage. Men holler your name, the few regulars that came every night you were working. You’d earned yourself a reputation as the nerdy girl because of your penchant for dressing up on the themed nights. Your hips roll to the beat of the song, coming daringly close to the hands that hold dollar bills. When they don’t get the chance to slip them into your outfit, they flutter at your feet, decorating the stage. You undo the tie of your shirt, revealing white bikini with gratuitous blood spatter. You’d done that yourself.

You wrap one leg around the pole, latching onto it. As it spins, you reach behind your back, undoing the tie of your top. Your breasts fall free, nipples hardening in the air conditioning. You hold the bra out proudly, smiling as the hoots and cheers fill the room.

“C’mon,” she starts, taking hold of Kyle’s thick wrist. His skin is always slightly cooler than everyone else’s. She remembers how cold the inside of his mouth was when they first — She blinks away the thoughts, actually disgusted by the idea. After all, she’d never really wanted to fuck a dead guy…

“Hey!” “Watch it, sweetheart!” “Get outta’ the way, you’re blockin’ the view, toots!”

Madison ignores the heckling, and continues to the front, pressing her bony hips against the lip of the stage.

“Hey! Dead bitch!”

Her voice is loud enough that it carries over the music, and you furrow your brow. She wasn’t wrong, but the bitch part seemed unnecessary. Still, you make your way over to the cluster of them, and bend at the waist to hear her.

“Yeah - what?” You ask, still swaying to the song.

“This is our little zombie — ”

“His name is Kyle,” The other girl interrupts pointedly. Madison throws a look towards the other girl, who nods with a fake smile. Truly, she didn’t care what you called him. As long as she didn't have to deal with him, she was happy.

“Kyle — and he needs a babysitter. He’s a little…” she makes a face, stretching her mouth out in a sneer. You knit your brows together again, unsure what that means.

Kyle, you think to yourself. What a frat boy name. In fact, he looks like a frat boy with really really good makeup. Full head of curly blonde hair, dark eyes, strong but soft features… looks like he can absolutely devour a keg.

He’s wearing an open black shirt and jeans, and beneath the black shirt, you can see raised flesh, scars like he was put back together. Funny that you’d chosen to do a dance number to Feed my Frankenstein.

“Do your job and keep him entertained, okay?” She pulls the peeking string of your thong far enough out to freely press a one hundred dollar bill against your hip and lets go. It snaps back against your skin, hard enough to sting. You wince.

Before you have time to protest, the girls are walking back towards the entrance without their little zombie in tow. One of them casts a woeful glance over her shoulder, and you’re left wondering why if she cares so much, why was she still walking away? You fill your lungs with air, exhale and lower yourself down onto your haunches.

“Hey baby,” you coo, wrapping a single blonde curl around your index finger. It’s angel-soft, and bounces back as you let go, straightening up. He seems to melt towards your touch, starved for it. “I like your costume.”

He watches as your ample cleavage sways with the gentle motion of your body. He repeats the word back to you, laboriously. “Cos…tume….”

“That’s right,” you say, running your hands over your thighs as you stand upright. The long heels of the shoes elongate your legs, making you tower over the club’s patrons. “I like it, it’s cute.”

Kyle watches wordlessly as your hands glide over your body, carefully skipping over the stitches at your knees, along your stomach, and finally up to the long stitch around your neck, which to him is holding your head on. Kyle’s eyes blink repeatedly with recognition.

You dip down, reaching for his hand. The crowd woooo’s as you hand him the string of your skirt. He grips it hard before looking at it deeply. You take one step back, flashing a coy expression to the men in the front row. Another step, and the tie begins to slip through the bow, unravelling. Another step and the skirt falls to your feet. A cacophony of approval fills your ears.

You’re in nothing but the blood-spattered bikini bottoms now, and you sink to your knees again, flashing Kyle a bright smile. He blinks, your skirt awkwardly hanging from his hand by the string.

On all fours, you crawl towards him, popping your ass to the beat of the song. Dollar bills shower the stage,  and when you slide your knees out to the sides, allowing men a delicious view of your backside, someone tucks another $100 in your bikini.

Kyle is watching you, but his hands drop to his groin where he makes a fist, and rubs it awkwardly over his now-throbbing erection. You immediately notice this, and your eyes widen. That’s a sure fire way to get kicked out, and for whatever reason, you’ve clocked him as too innocent to let that happen. There’s either a) something wrong with him, or b) he’s really committed to acting like a clueless, braindead boy. Both options require action.

“Okay, okay,” you murmur, guiding him to the side of the stage. There’s an empty chair, and with a heel, you push him back into it. Sit. Stay. He does. Good boy.

He never takes his eyes off you though, and every time you’re looking at him, his jaw hangs slack, staring at you with half-lidded eyes. He keeps trying to get up, and you have to slowly shake your head at him, teasingly. He seems to understand that gesture, and stays put.   

As you dance, you find yourself watching him, too. Inexplicably drawn to him, for whatever reason. You don’t usually take guys to the back, but $100 is a pretty good tip. Besides, you didn’t want to run into that girl again, and especially not angry.

As your routine comes to an end, Kyle gets up out of his chair, knocking into the edge of the stage. A few guys turn their heads, trying to figure out what this guy’s deal is. You’re too busy picking up your tips, and gathering your clothes to notice. With arms full, you race to the back, throw on a t-shirt and bolt back to the front, praying that Kyle is still where you left him.

He is. He may be trying to climb up on the stage, head craning in the direction of where you exited, but he's still there. You heave a relieved sigh, and saunter up to him, softening your expression.

“Hi, Kyle…” you murmur sweetly. You slip your arm underneath his, linking it with yours and softly pulling him down into a normal standing position again. There’s a small moment of processing and trust before he looks at you and smiles very weakly.

Destinee is next, and while she’s a nice girl, you absolutely loathe her taste in lighting. You enjoy a good rave, sure, but this is like the Electric Daisy Carnival in a much, much smaller space.

You learn very quickly that Kyle doesn’t like it either. At all. In fact, he might dislike it more than you. As soon as the beat is thumping and the bright red and orange lights are washing over the establishment, Kyle wrenches away from you, covering his ears. A low groan starts in his throat, bubbling up through his lips until he’s practically screaming.

“Shhh, shh it’s okay!” You try desperately to console him, but he can’t seem to hear you. Glancing nervously at the guests around you who are starting to take notice of him now, you smile apologetically. “Kyle, it’s okay!”

There’s only one solution - the private dance rooms. They’re quiet, secluded and a perfect spot to store a stressed out zombie boy for a few hours. You looked towards the spiral staircase that led upstairs, and hesitated. You were a dancer who rarely used the private rooms. You had been hard pressed to avoid being alone with any man, especially one that had paid you and felt entitled to whatever he wanted to take. Kyle, however, didn’t seem like the type to… well, do that. Or even articulate that he wanted to do that — did he even understand that you’d been paid to babysit him? Likely not.

You force his hand down as gently as possible, interlacing your fingers with his. “Kyle,” you say. “Kyle, look at me.”

His head moves sluggishly, and his eyes gradually follow. He looks at you with big, black eyes, the surrounding skin darkened and mottled. In the changing lights, he looks so lost, and your heart throbs desperately. Shucking the worries of whispers aside, you lead him through the club towards the wrought iron staircase.

“Hey Lance,” you say. “Private room open?”

“They sure are…” he replies with a large grin, his heavy accent coming through. Lance was one of the bouncers and rotated positions, so you had gotten semi-close with him. He enjoyed your presence and penchant for the strange. “Last door on da’ left.”  

With Kyle in tow, you head down the long, red hallway. Each of the doors were painted black, with gold trim. Kyle’s gaze travels from each door, picking up on the various sounds that seeped from behind them.

“Okay…” You say, your voice a touch softer than before as you push open the last door, praying that it’s been cleaned adequately. You cock your head to the side, urging him inside. His concerned eyes swept from you to the door and back to you before he finally decided that it was safe enough for him to enter. “Look, no strobe lights. No loud music. Just you and me.”

“You… and me….” He grumbles. The door clicks shut behind you. His words are painfully slow and slurred, but you can’t help be charmed by the innocence of them. “You…. You’re…. l-like me.”

“That’s right, baby… I’m like you.” In a quiet, joking whisper, you say: “Raaaaauuuuggghhhhhh…. Brains.”

Kyle seems to like this. The tiniest of smiles forms on his mouth. His chest heaves, and without warning, he lunges for you. His strong arms wrap around you in a steely grip that at first terrifies you; your arms are pinned at your sides, locked into place. His tongue slips over your collarbone, wet and cool like he’s just finished eating ice cream. It slips over your neck, along your jawline, and up behind your ear. He’s licking you, devouring you with such pressure that he has to have eaten some of the makeup by this point. You wince as he nips at your ear lobe, his teeth grinding down on the flesh. With some inhuman gurgle, he descends, covering your chest in his saliva.

You were used to men being hungry for you, acting like rabid dogs the second that they caught a glimpse of your plump tits or your juicy ass. It was part of the gig, came with the territory. But not this. This guy was on something. Had to be. Without warning, he yanks your cropped shirt up, and his jaws clamp down on the meat of your exposed breast. You yelp, pushing him off. He looks hurt or confused, or maybe both. Immediately, you scramble, feeling like you’ve just taken candy from a child.

“Hey no.. it’s okay. You can bite me… I like being bit. But not too hard, honey… that hurt.”

He doesn’t understand. Or he doesn’t look like he understands. His brows knit together sadly, while the dark, ink pools he has for eyes glaze over.

“….biiiiiiiiiiiiiite….” He says.

“Softly,” you finished, with your cutest zombie voice. “Biiiiite soft…ly….”

He cranes forward, mouth finding your flesh again. His teeth continue to graze your skin, slightly softer than before though, so maybe he does understand. His tongue lolls out sloppily to taste every inch. He nears the jumbled up mess of liquid latex on your elbow, and you expect him to stop, or skip over it — but he doesn’t. He feels uneven, soft flesh and his front teeth clamp down on it with a guttural sound. He rears his head back far enough for the liquid latex to streeeetch, and snap.

This gorgeous, blonde boy has a chunk of faux flesh hanging from between his teeth. Fake blood dots his pale lips, and he’s looking at you with the most confused expression you’ve ever seen on a man. It’s a grisly sight, really, but it fits the theme of the night. He’s committed to the zombie act, you’ll give him that.

“Hey, hey, take it easy, spit that out…” You reach up, rubbing the fake blood off his bottom lip. flatten your slender fingers on his broad chest, skin smooth like stone except for the deep scars. These are really good prosthetics. You can’t even see the seam. Because there aren’t any…

Like a dog, he drops the wrinkly skin-toned mass from his mouth and frowns. He looks genuinely disappointed, like he expected blood and guts. “B-bad… th-that… didn’t taste….. gooood…” he stammers. "Hun..gry…..”

For a moment, you’re frozen. Your realization clicks into place painfully slowly, slower than his brain seems to move. He’s really too good at the whole zombie act, and a panicked thought writhes its way into your mind, penetrating it the way that a tissue absorbs blood. Just sucks it in, becomes a part of it. No, no way.

Heavily masking the nerves in your voice, you clear your throat and reach for his shoulder. You stroke the smooth roundness of it, raking your nails against his skin.  “You want something that tastes good, baby?”

That ‘something good' is your cunt. You’ll let him eat you out so you can think. You assume he’ll eat you out like most men do — boringly — and you can process the realisation that this poor creature in front of you is actually really badly scarred, and possibly, a victim of head trauma, or something. Because there’s no way you’re meeting an actual zombie. Even on Halloween in New Orleans. That’s insane. So, you’re going to let him eat you out while you sort this out in your mind.

That was the plan, anyway.

Except the second you sink into the vinyl chair, he’s on his knees, looking at your pretty cunt with hungry eyes and the visual wipes your brain clean. It was like you put a plate of food in front of a starving man. His mouth opens. You untie both sides of your underwear, letting them fall to the floor. His eyes drop heavily, watching every move.

At first, his tongue juts out, curiously tasting what you’ve put in front of him. It presses between your folds, pauses, before wiggling around. Your eyelids flutter; you were ready to zone out, but Kyle’s inexperience, his curiosity feels so good.

“Good,” he growls, the word vibrating your cunt. His cool breath washes over your core, sending a chill up your spine. He delves deeper, tasting more of you.

His tongue flicks at your clit, flipping the swollen bundle of nerves mercilessly. Your whole body is trembling, and you feel the first of your orgasms rushing towards your centre. Carefully, not wanting to scare him, you grip his angel curls and ride his mouth slightly. Shit. Almost instantly, the throbbing starts and you make a mess of his poor boy’s face, squirting over his lips and chin.

“You like that?” You ask, through uneven pants. The first of the night always feels sooo good.

He nods heavily on your cunt, still lapping up the juices that leak from your slick hole. Your legs start to quiver and a fire burns deep within your cunt. You try to pat his shoulders, wordlessly telling him to stop. His tongue delves in, and he freezes.

“Kyle?” You ask nervously. Unconsciously, you clench around his tongue. He snaps to life, like someone flipped a switch in his brain. His strong arms wrap around the front of your thighs, tightly. Very tightly. He starts to pull you off the chair, lifting you up into his arms. Your ass cheeks are pressed against his chest and the back of your head is on the chair’s cushion now. He’s holding you tightly, upside down, still swallowing mouthfuls of your sopping wet cunt. He can’t seem to hear your desperate, pleading cries to stop.

You blink back tears, your vision throbs. You don’t know if it’s because the blood is very obviously rushing to your head, or because you’re coming again so quickly, but he’s drilling his tongue into your cunt like there’s a cream centre. If there is, he’s found it.

A scream fills your lungs and your body lunges upwards, trying to find leverage — something, anything to hold onto. She clenches again, pulsating around his cold, slippery tongue. Kyle’s practically drinking you with each clench. The overstimulation is crippling, and you can’t help but scream out.

“KYLE! STOP!”

At the shrill sound, he immediately drops you and your body hits the ground with a heavy thud. Your ass aches a little from the fall, but it’s nothing that’s going to ruin the night.

He’s frowning at you, his lips and chin glazed with your cum.

“S-sorry…” he grumbles. “Sorry. Bad.”

“No, no… not bad. Accident. Accident. Kyle?”

You call his name and he’s looking at you with those big, hopeful, dark eyes of his. You can tell — he isn’t sure if you’re going to scold him, or praise him and the uncertainty terrifies him. You get to your knees, crawling towards the sofa. Once you’re up on it, you pat the spot next to you three times.

“Can I see?” You gesture to your own body, tracing the remaining prosthetics with a single finger before pointing to him. He looks down, his bottom lip jutting out. He nods after a few seconds and lumbers over to you, sitting down heavily.  

Your fingers dance over his skin. He was literally pieced back together. His head, his arms, his legs, the lower half of his torso… he was sewn back together like Frankenstein. Different parts connected as one. You’re sitting next to an actual zombie.

And then it dawns on you. Those girls. You’d seen them before. You knew their faces. They lived in the massive mansion on Jackson Avenue. They were witches. Witches were a dime a dozen in New Orleans — in fact, it was weirder if you didn’t practice some kind of craft. But zombies… you’d only ever heard stories. You’d never seen one, let alone be eaten out by one.

You stroke Kyle’s broad chest. For being a zombie, he’s surprisingly soft. You’d always imagined them as dried out, crusty creatures, but he only had a few patches of dry skin. In fact, he had more patches where you could see dark blue pooling underneath his skin, where blood had settled after death. He is cold however, and that’s the most jarring part.

You ease him back on the leather sofa, making sure his head goes down softly onto the arm rest.  

“It’s okay, Kyle…. I like your body.”

“Costume….” He says. You shake your head.

“Body. Body.”

His hips give the tiniest little buck, and it slips between your ass cheeks. He whimpers, trying to get a visual of what he’s feeling. Gradually, his thrusts increase in pressure, and you adjust for your own pleasure.

When you adjust, forcing his cock to slide in between your cunt instead, he feels the slick warmth, and his feral nature returns, stronger than before. His thrusts pick up, and he seems to realise that you are a living thing, with pulsing blood and a throbbing heartbeat. Something else is throbbing again, too.

You whine and match his thrusts, letting your head loll back.

Kyle has a different idea, and before you can stop him, he has your forearm in his mouth, teeth clamped down on the soft, warm flesh. It only takes a few seconds for you to feel the stinging ache consuming your arm. It hurts… bad. The muscles in your fingers contract, twitching limply. He aggressively shakes his head, and your heart drops. The terror sets in, and you’re suddenly running cold.

“Kyle, no- OW! KYLE!”

He shakes his head again, biting down harder and digging his the ridges of his teeth deeper into your skin. You don’t necessarily feel the flesh tear, somewhere near the top, but you certainly feel the warm flow of blood that drips down your arm, dribbling onto his chest. Your pupils dilate. The blood keeps flowing, and you feel him start to rear his head back. Something pulls back with him. The ache is replaced by a searing burn, and you realise that if he pulls back any further, he’s going to pull off skin. You’re panicking now, and don’t know what else to do but try again. This time though, you roar at him, bringing back your zombie voice. It’s not so cute this time. “Raaaaaaaaauhhhhhh, KYLE. KYLE STOP. STOP!”

You try to rip your arm away from his mouth, while pushing his head. Thankfully, his powerful jaw goes slack and your arm slides out, strings of spit stretching from his lips. Your blood is smeared across his chin and bottom lip, and collects in the corners of his mouth.

With your vision bouncing thanks to Kyle’s furious thrusting, you look at your arm, watching the bright crimson well up in the indentations of the bite mark. Amidst the rest of your makeup, the bite doesn’t look out of place. You hold your arm out further, trying to come up with a story for this one. Maybe the makeup had stained in an absolutely mind-blowing way. And you had a reaction to it, hence the bizarre swelling and scabbing. That sounds good, sounds believable.

“Want… more…”  He says, and your stomach drops, praying that he doesn’t mean more flesh. You’re not sure you can handle another one. Mid-thrust, Kyle’s thick, veiny cock angles just right and slips into your cunt. She swallows him easily, still wet from being eaten — a mixture of cum and Kyle’s viscid, slimy saliva. You plant both hands on his chest, letting out a breathy, melodic moan. He feels good enough to make you forget about the bite, and as you begin to ride him, it seems that he forgets too.

You’re taking control, grinding on top of him, using his cock like your own personal toy. It’s hitting every spot you want it to, pressing into your walls with its girth, and you can’t help but whine about it. Pausing to smear your blood across Kyle’s chest with your middle finger, you leave deep, red streaks across pale skin. You shouldn't find that hot, but you do.

Kyle wraps both hands around your waist, pulling you down onto his cock relentlessly, each thrust feeling harder than the last. You lean forward, pressing your tits against his almost bare chest, and allowing him to take control, thrusting his cock up into you. The slightly bent positioning of his cock, head grinding against your spongy insides is enough to make you cum right then. You don’t though, holding back, clenching your pussy as tight as you can.

“You like it, Kyle?” You ask, through shaky pants. “You like that?”

Kyle nods, heavily, his darkened eyes watching the way that your body quivers on top of him, wordlessly marvelling at the way your thigh muscles contract and shake on top of him every time he slips out, and buries himself inside your dripping pussy again. He loves how it feels, even if he can’t articulate it the way he wants to, the sensations are everything he wants. Everything.

He grips you harder, lifting you off his cock and slamming you back down, repeating this violent display of strength over and over again. Your cunt shudders, unable to hold back your orgasm any longer. Kyle feels it first, and the sudden tightness has him growling, snarling and pushing his length into you as deep as he can. Kyle digs his heels into the sofa, lifting his legs. You feel the pressure against your cervix as he bottoms out, and press against his cock, forcing his cock deeper into you, until you feel the ache. You ride out the waves of your own orgasm, feeling his as it comes in thick, sticky ropes.

There’s a gentle knock at the door, and you quickly get to your feet, pulling your shirt over your head. You scramble, trying to find the bikini bottoms and once they’re tied, you throw open the door. It’s Lance, who is looking very concerned. Your legs are pressed tightly together, in fear that Kyle’s load is going to start dripping down your thighs and onto the floor.

“Miss Y/N. The club is closing… are you alright in there?”

Closing? What? It was bareley eleven when you brought him into the room. The seedy, slick realisation that you’d been fucking this zombie for almost four hours made your cheeks blossom with heat. You immediately tuck your bitten arm behind the door, flashing Lance a charming smile.

“Yes! Fine! Just uh, finishing up a dance. Hey - Lance… did two girls ever come back, asking for this blonde guy in here?”

He pauses, thinking. After a few moments, he shakes his head and apologises.

Okay, guess he’s coming home with me, then. “Thank you, Lance. I’ll be down in just a second.”

You shut the door and lean against it, looking at the zombie on the sofa. He’s staring up at the ceiling, a small smile on his face. “Kyle, do you live on Jackson Street? Where do you live?”

He sits up abruptly, turning his head to face you. “Uhm…” He murmurs. “Big…… white.”

“Big white house?” You repeat, making a house shape with your hands. He nods.

“You wanna’ go home?”

~

After throwing on a pair of dolphin shorts, collecting your duffel bag and giving Lance a generous tip, you have Kyle in tow, fingers laced tightly with his. Jackson Street was maybe a twenty minute walk, something you both could handle.

Despite it going on 3 AM, the streets were still filled with partiers, people in masks, and drinks in their hands. You and Kyle blend in as you walk, heading down the busy roads. Once you arrived at the Mansion, the gates were open, a fine mist spilling into the sprawling yard.

The woman who answers the door is beautiful, graceful and composed. She wears all black, her honey blonde hair cascading graceful over her shoulders.

“Good Evening,” she says.

“Good Evening. Um.. this is going to sound strange, even for Halloween, but, um…”  You want to continue. Desperately, but for some reason, you already know the answer. He does belong here. As though she’d said it to you, plain as day, he belonged here, this is where he stayed.

Zoe and Madison must’ve forgotten him.

Your brows furrow, indignantly. How could they?

Cordelia’s plump lips flatten into a knowing smile. You swallow, suddenly feeling uneasy. You scratch at the liquid latex on your neck, fiddling uncomfortably with one of the edges of the prosthetic.

“Well, Kyle… here you go. Go with…?”

“Cordelia.”

“Cordelia. Go with Cordelia, you’re home now.”

Kyle seems somewhat hesitant, but when Cordelia holds out a hand, he obeys and lumbers inside, looking over his shoulder at you one last time.

“Thank you for bringing him home,” she says, softly. “Would you like to come inside?”  

You consider that for a second. Deep within the wetness of your bones, and the warmth of your blood, you feel like you should. There’s something extremely comforting about this place, but… “No, no thank you. I should be getting home. It’s Halloween. Weird things happen on Halloween.”

She smiles again. “That’s quite a bite you have on your arm… did Kyle do that?”

“Oh, uh… yeah. He got a little excited earlier, I’m a dancer, and uh, y’know. Men.”

“I have something for that.”

You look down at your bite again, it looks nastier than before. You clear your throat, ready to reject and explain that your older sister is a nurse and she’ll help, but instead, and you’re not quite sure how that happened, you’re walking through the doors. Kyle is delighted to see you again, pausing on the grand staircase to look at you.

Cordelia’s hands end up being very, very soft.

t a g l i s t : @kaismanwich / @redwoodghost / @elsamars / @silverzoomies / @kaissweetlamb / @thewolveswithin / @80strashbag / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @stucktothetwo / @evansb1tch / @enchanting-evan / @petersevans / @yesdevineruler / @enchanting-evan / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @violetharmonscupcake/ @my-own-walker / @kai-slut / @evanpetersfansblog / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @nova-kayne67 / @dewberryobssesed / @the-goblin1 / @dirtyfairy97 / @jellyluvr / @strangerthings420 / @kai-anderson-whore / @piecesofcain / @lilthbunny / @quickandsilvers / @tatelangdonsweater / @ifeeltoofuckingmuch / @howtobesasha / @randodummy / @throwinginmythai / @hyperharlz

Ask to be added to taglist for future fics!!

[luviestarz]

choi beomgyu fic recs!

✿ a night to remember — choi beomgyu - @jeontaeil-archived (beomgyu takes you out on a lovely date to his old workplace and after hours of having fun, neither of you are quite satisfied. too impatient to wait till you get back home, or to his car in the least, you don’t think twice before getting down and dirty right then and there. at the end of the day, how many people can proudly admit that they’ve fucked in a trampoline park?)

✿ airport crush | choi beomgyu NSFW - @boba-beom (while waiting 4 hours for your next flight, you see a cute guy at the airport and decide to kill some time.)

✿ a star called you | c.bg - @scintillasofbeomgyu (yn and their friends run the campus radio for which yn is the host of the evening show “dear sputnik”, where they share stories and hope to create a healing space for all students— even though many don’t listen to it. little does yn know, their biggest fan, angel313, is choi beomgyu— the boy they’ve silently had a crush on for the past four years.)

✿ nap of a star - @blue-jisungs (you’re taking a nap on your friend’s lap)

✿ sk8ter boi -> c.b - @gyusrose (you never thought in a million years to be attracted to a boy like beomgyu. His baggy clothes, scrappy shoes, long hair just wasn’t a click with your elegant dresses, tight skirts, ballet dancer- self , but somehow he managed to steal your attention.)

✿  stoner!bestfriend!beomgyu x fem!reader - @universecorp (as much as beomgyu tries to deny falling in love with you, even after he claimed you saved him from believing his whole purpose of life was to be bad luck, his heart cannot tell a lie.)

✿ honeymoon - @beomsight (thoughts about how you and bf!beomgyu are in that honeymoon phase where you’re constantly all over each other)

✿ who’s home? - @iknowyuu (reader's guardians unexpectedly come home in the middle of a cuddle session.)

✿ sweet. - @tyunlatte (beomgyu is whipped for the reader, that's it. that's the plot. just something short and sweet to make your hearts ache.)

✿ who’s that girl! - @h00nerz (after coming home from vacation to discover your boyfriend of over a year cheating on you, you find yourself to be in search of a new place to live. lucky for you, your friend’s cousin is moving across the state, leaving a room open that’s yours for the taking. the only problem? it means you would be staying with three guys.)

✿ a lost bet! - @heart2beom (you lose a bet to beomgyu and out of everything you'd think he'd ask of you -- money, to pour freezing water on yourself out in the snow, hell, you thought it'd be more likely for him to ask you to jump off a cliff and survive than telling you to take him out on a date.)

✿ strawberry kisses - @tyunlatte (when you accepted your boyfriend's sweet request to do his makeup, you weren't expecting the fiery turn that your little makeup session was going to take)

✿ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 - @sungbeam (gamer/streamer!choi beomgyu x f!reader)

✿ call you later - @heart2beom (beomgyu swears women fall at his feet and he's in fact, single by choice—what better way to prove this to you than collecting the numbers of random people on the street?)

✿ forever only you. - @mazeinthemoon (when an old friend draws your attention away from your boyfriend, he can’t help but get jealous)

✿ [🐯] i got you - @qqtxt (the best parts of beomgyu's morning always involve you)

✿ white dress - @fairyyeo (i recommend reading this!!!! pls go read its so good)

✿ photobooth. - @ev3rm0re-q (even though you and beomgyu have been together for three months, you two have yet to share a kiss. on his day off, the two of you venture outside and come across a photo booth. perhaps a few pictures might finally motivate the both of you to take action.)

✿ tokyo - choi beomgyu - @beomie3 (the neon-lit towers which surround you are mighty bright. but in his eyes, you shine brightest. the adventures of two lovers in tokyo. ~coming of age film~ vibes.)

✿ strawberry chapstick | choi beomgyu - @lluringli

[shelbgrey]

Y/n: *in the back seat of Rick's car* Can either of you tell me who wrote the Great Gatsby?

Cliff: Alfred Hitchcock?

Rick: Hitler?

Y/n: *sighs* F. Scott Fitzgerald.

Rick: Who's that?

Y/n: The author.

Cliff: Well, why are you saying "fuck him"?

Y/n: *confused* What?

Rick: You just said eff Scott Fitzgerald. I mean, what would Scott Fitzgerald do to you?

Cliff: Yeah.

Y/n: No, that's his first name.

Rick: His name's Fuck Scott Fitzgerald?

Y/n: What? No!

Cliff: Well, what does the F stand for?

Y/n: Francis.

Rick: No, it's got to be Fuck. It's got to be Fuck.

Cliff: It must be Fuck. It has to be Fuck.

Y/n: Why the hell would it be "Fuck"?

Rick: Well, 'cuz otherwise, why wouldn't he just say it?

Cliff: Yeah, he's hiding something. It's Fuck. It's Fuck. It's Fuck.

Rick: It's Fuck. It's Fuck.

Y/n: That's completely insane. You guys are idiots.

[sevsdollette]

Not So Sweet [Sevika x fem reader]

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49324864/chapters/137713357

content warning: trigger warning for violence against the reader. if mean men in bars freak you out, read with caution. other than that, alcohol, gambling, smoking, and smut (obviously). reader eats sevika out. fingering. sorry if you just want it to be sevika doing shit to the reader, but yk the woman has needs as well.

summary: You go out with Sevika as her gambling date. It’s a calm night at the Last Drop where everything should be fun and easy. But your beauty doesn’t just attract Sevika.

chapters:

1. Relaxing Night

2. A Long Night at Work

3. A Gamble of A Night

note: tell me why every chapter title has the word night in it. i’m back @-@. so yeah it’s been a minute. hope no one is too mad at me. this one maybe a bit shorter than the others? not entirely sure. also i know this ends with like a cliff hanger, but i promise the next chapter will leave no holes in the time line. you gays will get what you want. sorry if there’s spelling mistakes i wrote most of this on my phone. it’s not like i’m an AP english student or anything (i am :/) also sorry for the format being a bit different. tumblr is pissing me the fuck off right now. i don’t care to fix the spacing between the paragraphs. i’m tired.

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The glow of the Last Drops neon sign felt a bit more familiar than before. This time, more than a drink was waiting for you inside.

It was a clear, hot night with busy streets and crowded alleys, and you were wearing a black catsuit with long sleeves and shorts that hardly covered your ass. The zipper down the front was pulled so low the clothes were practically falling off of you.

This time, when you walked up to the bouncer, past the long, impatient line, you hardly had to open your mouth before he was opening the door and letting you in. The groans and hateful stares of the people waiting felt like a crown on your head. You were still scum, sure, but for the night you were important.

On that evening, the bar wasn’t full of screaming patrons and blasting music, but slow, cool jazz. It was their calmest night where the low lamps gave off an orange-red glow on the deep wooden walls, and every shadow seemed comforting. People sat calmly at their tables, passing cards and taking shots. The ceiling hung low with the smoke of cigars and cigarettes. A sweet smell of booze wafted through the room, making any nasty smell of the people buying the drinks.

In her normal corner booth, Sevika was sitting with four men, cigarette pressed between her lips and cards in her hands. She was laughing lightly as she passed a card into the center of the table. The candle in the middle of the room illuminated her face and curved around her features. Beautiful, you thought, staring at her vibrant eyes.

As you waded through the tables of the room, she noticed you approaching, glancing over as the conversation at her table continued. Keeping an eye on you. You kept your cool, only giving a small smile back as you approached. Men of the bar kept looking up at your figure as you walked by their tables, admiring the way the leather suit curved over your hips and hugged your thighs.

The other men at the table were just as harsh and brutish as Sevika, all with scars over their faces or hands, rugged clothes, and a mean glare. They were younger than her but older than you, and they didn’t seem too friendly when you came up to the table.

One of them, with white blonde hair and a blind eye, wrinkled her nose as he looked you up and down. With a toothpick in his mouth, he questioned, “Who’s that?”

Sevika cleared her throat, looking down at her cards as she drew another from the deck. “I hired her.”

You froze, brow furrowing as your upper lip curled. Your services didn’t involve simple company at a bar. You surely didn’t want to be here if she was going to pay you for it.

She chuckled under her breath, looking up at you. “I’m kidding, doll. Sit down.” She tapped the spot on the cushion next to her.

Apprehensive, you sat beside her slowly. If this night was just going to be her being a bitch, you weren’t going to get involved. You could go back to Babettes and earn your dinner like always. You didn’t need her free food. And her expensive rum. And her perfectly rolled clove cigarettes…

The more you looked around the table, the longer you wanted to stay. You’d seen her and her men around the bar before but never noticed how nice of a night they always had. Each man was sitting comfortably around the booth with either a cigar, cigarette, or drink, lounging as they waited for the game to start. The loud music was slightly muffled, making the table almost cozy and closed off.

They were just finishing a game as you got there, a pile of coins in front of Sevika and dwindling collections by the other players. They were settling bets and getting more drinks, idle conversation as everyone got ready for another round. Sevika shuffled the deck and delt you your own hand.

You were sitting close to her, but just far enough away so you didn’t touch. A distance she would have to choose to close if she really wanted to. Yes, you liked her and wanted her attention, but you weren’t going to devote yourself to her to get it. If she really liked you, she’d take what she wanted.

And it didn’t take her long. As she was puting your cards down in front of her, she smiled and met your eyes. Her gaze drifted down your neck, chest, and down to your lap. She was close, her broad figure looming beside you enough to block your view of three of the men.

Her eyebrows raised. “You’ve got something on your neck.”

A heat hit your face as you rubbed the skin under your chin. God, you couldn’t look decent just once. “What is it?”

“Something I left for you.”

Your hands dropped and you rolled your eyes. “Oh, fuck off.”

She smiled wider, shaking her head and sitting back. The tables was coming back together and everyone was picking up their cards as a waitress came around with more drinks. She had a glass for you and Sevika poured you some rum. The waitress smiled a bit too sweetly at Sevika when she said thank you, and it made you inch a bit closer to her.

You picked up your cards and sipped your drink. Rum was never your favorite, but in this setting, it felt right. Your deal wasn’t the worst, but you;d defitnety have to sit out for the round. You were trying to play your best.

At the brothel, you and your tolerable coworkers would play and gamble during slow hours all the time. Your room was the hot spot where everyone would crown around the coffee table, taking a smoke break, and having good fun. It was never that serious, everyone putting their earrings or hair clips in as prizes only to hand them back at the end of the game. But, there was a skill level that all of you developed.

And you were the best.

You all got through two games that Sevika won. She truly enjoyed it. A sly smile spread across her face as she collected everyone’s coins, only handing you a coy apology and running her hand up your though to make up for it. It didn’t matter to you. Your cards weren’t that good anyway.

Though, you liked the way she got when she was that happy. She was touchy. She would “accidentally” brush her hand over your tit, and she really liked to fiddle with that zipper that rested between your ribs. You’d push her away, saying something about how stupid she was being and how the alcohol was getting to her, and she’d give a boozy smile and turn to shuffle the cards again.

On the third game, you got a good hand. A really good hand. You kept your cool as you saw the empress and her court smiling up at your on the painted card. Every mention of a tell that your friends had mentioned to you ran through your head and you hid every sign. No one would know. You would win.

It took great thought to get through. Early on, Sevika noticed how much more focused you were, and it caused her to keep putting more money on the table. The men all had relatively bad hands except for one, but he backed out after a while, not trying to get in the middle of whatever mental battle you and Sevika were engaged in.

In the end, with the final turn of a card, you had won. With a huge pile of copper in teh middle fo the table, you whooped and bounced in your seat, grinning as you pulled all of the money towards yourself.

Sevika was angry. You could see it in the way she wouldn’t look at you adn how she stared into her empty glass. Her jaw was clamped tightly shut and she was thinking hard, still looking at the coins you’d taken from her. It wasn’t her fault. She hardly knew you, and she had expected you to be moer of an open book then your were. To be truthful, she dind’t know the half of who you were, and that was her fatal flaw.

Part of her still thougth of you as those prissy virgins she usually saw. It was hard for her to accept that she liked someone so similar to her own spiteful nature. She didn’t like it unless you two were naked, apparently.

She swallowed and shook her head. “I let you win.”

Your nose wrinkled. “Shut up.”

A fake laugh tossed itself from her lips and she held her hands in helplessness. “Just trying to be nice. If I beat you every time, you won’t enjoy it so much. There’s no way you can actually win.”

“Sevika—“ You scoffed, shaking your head at her as you wondered why she fucking bothered to say those things. “Whatever. I’m going to get a cocktail.”

She chuckled bitterly as you stood up. “Rum’s too strong?”

You held your middle finger up behind you as you stomped to the bar. Sevika muttered something else under her breath that you didn’t want to hear. The lively jazz that filled hte bar felt so suffocating now as you walked past a betting table thick with smoke. You didn’t need her pouting just because you won. It was supposed to be a fun night. Only a baby cried because they lost a stupid game.

You sat at the bar and ordered a drink. The bartender was a nice but nervous man who must’ve known who you were accompanying. He stuttered as he took your order and nearly dropped the vodka when he went to pour it. He was good at his job though adn your drinks as sweet with an after taste that stung your throat. You thanked him and made soem idle conversation, knowing that Sevika was watching you out of the corner of her eye.

You could feel the heat of her anger even from that far away. You planned on sitting at the bar for a little longer, let them play a game without you so she could get a win back under her belt. Maybe then she’d be nicer.

The bartender Thieram was a nice man who made you rlaugh once or twice as you sipped your drink. He was respectful. Most men either didn’t like you or liked you too much. It wasn’t often your found someone who treated you like a friend.

This fact was proven a few minutes later when a man steppe dup to the bar to order a beer. He was probably almost thirty with black hair graying on the sides and a long tattoo down her left forearm. He was ugly. But ugly in a way that some people found very attractive, though the second you stared at him for too long, he looked like an abstract painting.

You only glanced at him for a second before stirring your drink while waiting to talk to Thieram again. He had a deep, angry voice. After Thieram turned away, he stayed at the bar and leaned against it, turning to face you. “You alright, babe?”

You didn’t look up. “Who are you calling babe?”

“Just a pretty woman I see at the bar.” He chuckled. “I’m Leox.”

“And I’m not interested.”

None of your blatant signals got through to him. In fact, he stepped closer. Enough that you could smell the weed he’d been smoking. “Come on. You seemed kinda upset at your table. Why don’t you come and join mine? I’ll treat you real good.”

“Oh, will you?”

“Yes,” he sighed. He leaned in, brushing your hair off your forehead. “I will.”

“Hm,” you hummed, closing your eyes as you pretended to enjoy his flirting. “Well…”

You pushed him away. “I’m still not interested.”

You only did men if they paid you for it.

The firm hand you placed on his shoulder withdrew only slightly before he gripped your wrist in place. For a brief moment your breath caught as he tugged you off of your stool and you were stumbling into him.

He grabbed your jaw firmly and pulled your face up to look at him. “Why couldn’t you just be nice? I know you’re just some whore. I could’ve paid well too.”

You jerked from his grasp, trying to turn around to get free and run out of there. He smelt awful and his breath was hot in your face. His teeth were yellow.

You were able to jam your heel into his toes, making him flinch so you could wriggle free, but as you were getting away, his foot caught under you and you fell to the ground. Your palms took the blunt of the pain as you scrambled to get yourself up.

As you pulled yourself to your feet, a heavy set of footsteps was storming past you and towards the man. In your panic, and with the moment being so quick, you hardly heard what she was saying to him—yelling at him.

You spun around, uneasy on your feet, and only saw their final interaction: Her fist against his face.

Once such a strong, intimidating man crumbled into a heap on the floor. Sevika stood over him, shimmer coursing through her metal arm and heavy breaths moved her shoulders, flexing the muscle. She turned around and you only saw the faint glint of purple in her eyes before she passed you again and ordered her men to take the guy out back. Teach him a lesson, she said.

The bar was silent. The woman humming low jazz was standing shocked beside her accordion player, the other patrons were trying to keep their gazes down, and Thieram was standing helpless behind the bar, terrified. You felt your face get hot as you stepped back subconsciously, your arms crossing and hugging your ribs.

Sevika was done barking orders and came up to you, pulling you back into the private room of the bar. The familiar place almost brought back amusing memories if you weren’t so upset.

She pulled you into her arms, examining you and making sure you were alright. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“No,” you shook your head. “No, I’m fine. Shit like that happens all the time to me.”

She exhaled heavily through her nose and looked at the door. She must’ve been pondering whether to go help her men or not, but your hand on hip kept her there.

You two ended up sitting on the couch together sharing a cigarette. You were beside her with your legs rested across her lap and your head on her shoulder. She had her hand gripping your thigh and her metal arm wrapped over your shoulders.

You looked up at her face after a long drag and saw how tense her face was, how she didn’t seem to be moving an inch. Staring off into space with a firm furrow in her brow.

“Sev?” You frowned, brushing her stray hairs off her forehead. “Don’t be so upset. Everything’s okay.”

Sure, you were a bit shaken, but men were always like that to you. It wasn’t right, but it was something you had to get used to. She’d have to understand that if she were to be around you.

She pursed her lips. “It’ll be okay as long as he gets what he deserves.”

You ran your thumb over the muscles of her collar. “Just try to calm down.”

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do.”

You sighed, understand the aggression wasn’t towards you. To be honest, you didn’t feel unsafe at all with her. Even though her eyes still sparkled violet when the lamplight caught it.

“Everything will be okay,” you assured. “I’m fine and he’s gonna get what’s coming to him. Relax, dear.”

Again you rubbed her collar and shoulder, your fingers trying to ease any tension she had. You leaned in to place a small kiss under her jaw, and as your lips brushed her skin, she held you tighter against her.

You kissed her neck again, lingering to drag your tongue over her in a way that made her sign and settle into the couch. The action spurred you on and you left another heavy kiss to her pulse point, making sure to leave proof that you did so.

You climbed into her lap and straddled on of her thighs, the right muscle fitting right against your clit. She let you tilt her head back so you could keep up your actions.

“What…”

A sly smile spread across your lips and you kissed below her ear. “Just trying to help you relax,” you cooed, a bit of mischief in your voice as one of your hands fiddled with the top button of her vest.

As you pulled the button free, her hand on your thigh got ever so slightly tighter and you remembered the shimmer in her system.

“Come on, Sev, don’t be so upset. Don’t let him ruin the night.”

You dragged your kisses down her chest, letting more of her buttons become undone until she was helping you pull her arms out of the sleeves and you tossed her shirt onto the other side of the couch.

She looked magnificent, curving muscle winding down her stomach, scars lacing her skin, and her breasts dark and nipples pebbled from the cold.

As you took the moment to admire her, she grabbed your ass and nudged you to keep going. You’d never expect her to be so lenient on letting you have control, but maybe she was trusting you more. Or maybe she just really needed to let some stress out.

Your tongue slid across her chest, lips finding one of her breasts for you to suck on. You twirled your tongue around her nipple, sucking it into your mouth and rolling it around your teeth. She moaned, gripping you hair and letting you grind on her thigh. It was a perfect mixture of giving and receiving, all of her grains sending shockwaves to your core and you reveled in the taste of her.

You wanted to taste more.

As you slid onto the floor on your knees, you dragged you hands down her thighs and then up to undo her belt. She was breathing heavily as you kissed down her stomach, enjoying the sensation of her muscle against your lips. You pulled her pants down with her underwear, wrestling them over her boots and letting them be lost somewhere in the room.

Adrenaline led you to avidly kiss down her thighs, licking over every inch on the insides as you got closer and closer to her core. You could tell her was ready for you, her hand gripped the back of your head, waiting to hold your mouth against her. You moaned as she tugged at your hair lightly, trying to get you to start.

You left a long kiss on her inner thigh, just an inch from her pussy befor turning to begin. Only, you stopped to look up at her flushed face as smile.

“You’re so gorgeous, Sev.”

The compliment was not taken happily. “I swear to god—you and that fucking mouth of yours,” She breathed, her pupils blown as she rolled her eyes.

“Oh, you don’t like the teasing when it’s the other way around?”

“Just eat,” she huffed, pushing your face into her core.

It was hot and dripping, so ready for you. You lifted one thigh into your shoulder and spread her folds with your fingers. Her hairs were well kept and trimmed, brushing your nose as you dragged your tongue through her, tasting her.

She moaned, pushing your face further into her as you found her clit, flattening your tongue and coaxing over the bud. As you worked her up, you slid your fingers down and circled her entrance slowly, teasing it lightly.

Another heavy groan fell from her as she tightened her legs around your head. You could hardly hear her due to the clamp her thighs had over your ears.

Everything was so intense, the scent of her, the taste, the pressure of her legs, and the ughh grip she had on your hair. All you could do was kiss and lick her clit, enjoying the moment. It was so overwhelming you completely forgot any else that had happened that night.

You flicked her bud with the tip of your tongue, sucking on it as you slid two fingers into her.

It made her tense up and her head fell back over the back of the couch. She was desperate, holding your face so close and gently rocking her hips against your tongue as you fucked your fingers into her.

“Fuck, baby, don’t stop,” she demanded. You could sense her stress waning as she breathed deep and relaxed into you. You circled your fingers against her walls every time you pushed them in, sucking and licking her clit as you did so.

With your other hand, you pulled down the zipper of your suit and reached under the leather to find yourself. All of her heaving and moaning was too much for you to handle. The taste of her alone made you drip. You slid your fingers between your lips, finding your eager, swollen bud and stroking it.

You moaned against her, the vibrations making her gasp and you quickened your pace on both her and you. She was desperate, fucking heralded on your face bc had while you moaned against her clit and sucked. Rapid, intelligible words fell from her lips as she reached her high, curses and praised to you crescendoing into muttering whines as she came.

The pressure of her legs and your fingers rubbing over your clit was enough to get yourself there too. You cried out into her folds, the stimulation making her jerk as she came down from her high with you.

The both of you were breathing heavily as you crawled back up to her lap. She held you, sliding her hands past the unzipped front of your catsuit so she could feel your hot skin.

Your lips met in a messy clash or desperation. She dragged her teeth over your bottom lip as she made her grind your pussy against hers, the overstimulation making you both shudder.

Just as easily as you’d fallen into her kiss, she was pulling away and moving you off her lap. She set you down on the couch as she stood up, grabbing her clothes off the floor and couch to put them back on.

You sat up, anger and panick setting in. Did you do something wrong? “What—where are you going?”

She began to button her vest up, a grin sliding over her lips. “I’m taking you home.”

[jayke0]

You Know I Love It When You Beg

Pairing: Steven x fem reader

Summary: kinktober day 2, Public Play

Rating: 18+

Warnings/content: public play, vibrating toys (cock massager and insertable vibrator), Dom!Reader, Sub!Steven, teasing, cum in pants, cumming easily, who ever cums first gets fucked, mention of pegging, light mocking, name calling (just mild British insults), lmk if there's anything else i should add :).

Word count: 1,071

Credit: @automnepoet for proofreading ily.

...........................................................................

"Love, can we try something?"

Steven's voice echoes from the hallway as he approaches the kitchen where you're sat, phone in one hand and tea in the other.

"Mmmm depends... if it's anything like those cardboard tasting crisps, then absolutely not." You chuckle, but as you see Steven's nervous face your laughter is cut short, "Sure darling, what's up?" You put your mug down.

Steven chews the inside of his cheek (a habit you'd tried to get him out of months ago but to no avail) as he places the boxes on the table, sheepishly occupying the seat opposite you. 

You examine one of them before holding it up next to your face. "Vibrators? Why are you so nervous about this? Not like we haven't used them before—" 

"I wanna go out with them on, maybe to like, a posh restaurant or something," he quickly interjects. "I think it'll be... fun, if that's the right way to describe it. I'm sure I'll regret calling it that later." He chuckles a little uneasily.

"Oh."

The idea fills you with excitement, and that's evident by the grin that creeps across your face. "You sure you can handle that, sweetheart?" You batter your eyelashes at him and reach out to take his hands "You know how fast you cum." 

Steven huffs in response. "All the more reason to do it! You're just as easy to work up, dear." He raises a brow at you before leaning closer "What's wrong, you scared?" The evil grin now plastered on his face instead.

"No! No... of course not— take that goofy look off your face—" you shove his head gently which results in a giggle from the man. "So you'll do it then?" He asks eagerly, and it's hard to say no to his stupid happy face.

You'd both agreed not to turn them on until you've actually reached the restaurant, otherwise it'd kind of ruin the whole fun of it… given how easy you both get worked up, despite how you argue that you don't.

Fortunately, you get seated in a somewhat closed off booth, and you notice how steven seems a little relieved at that.

"Steven."

"Yes, dear?"

"You look very handsome this evening." You compliment, and he's about to thank you for your kind words, but he's cut off by his hand slapping over his mouth.

"You bugger..." He manages to groan as he feels the vibrations already buzzing through his slacks.

You give him a smug look. "Oi, that's not a very nice way to talk me after i compliment you! Maybe I should turn it u—"

"No!" Steven's hand flies over your phone to protect his dignity. "Not yet... please." He breathes, giving those big puppy dog eyes that you always fall for. 

"Oh baby, you know I love it when you beg."

That warrants a quiet whimper from Steven, and honestly you're surprised how he's already getting worked up over this; he must've been fantasizing about it for a long time. 

Steven is patient though, always is, and that's one of the things you both love and absolutely hate about him, because he can edge you for hours sometimes, bring you to that cliff just to rip you away from it for the 6th time. He waits till you've relaxed before striking, waiting till you ask the waiter to take your orders to pounce on you.

A shiver runs up your back as you feel the buzzing perfectly stimulate your clit, the sudden feeling making you bite down on your lip hard. You briefly give Steven a death stare before continuing your order… only to feel him turn it up further. The vibrator is pressed against that sweet spot inside you, and you find it difficult to not rock back on it with the waiter breathing down your damn neck. You hide your moan with a cough and thankfully get through the order, and once the waiter is out of sight you turn Steven's all the way up.

His sly smirk is quickly wiped from his face as his hips buck forward instinctively and he hides his face in his hand.

"You prick," you mumble to him, now slightly rocking against the buzzing like you wanted to a couple of moments ago, "you handsome prick." 

Steven looks at you, and you can see how fast his chest is rising and falling now, but the look he's giving you is one of complete submission; was it really that easy?

"Oh c'mon, you're not gonna cum yet are you, sweetheart?" You mock lightly while your hand rubs his shoulder. You lean in towards his neck and take in the smell of his cologne (your favourite one) before nipping the skin. "Don't cum Steven, I wanna get fucked tonight."

That, of course, only makes his situation worse, his face now beet red. "God, I can't help it, shit it feels so good." He moans softly and reaches for your phone to turn it down.

You let him, since you don't want it to be over too early… and you at least want your starter.

You're still rolling your hips towards the pleasure vibrating through your underwear when the waiter brings over your desserts, the starter and main having gone surprisingly easy despite both of you now huffing and arousal seeping through your underwear. 

"Thank—yOU—" another moan hidden by a cough when Steven tries to embarrass you again.

You look at him darkly before running your hand over his thigh, resorting to the one thing that you know works on him; fuck cares if it's cheating.

"Please baby, I want you to cum for me..." you whisper in his ear with your best desperate tone, "Just want you to make a mess in your underwear, can you do that for me, sweetheart?" 

And boom, that's all he needed as he shrinks in on himself and hunches over, his body shaking a little while his hips wildly buck against thin air. He can't moan, but there's pants reminiscent of whimpers that leave his lips, until eventually he calms down.

"Good boy." You praise and pepper kisses over his neck and cheek, hand running up and down his back comfortingly.

"I want you bent over the bed when we get home, yeah?"

All Steven can do is nod enthusiastically, his cock already growing hard again at the thought of you fucking him just the way he loves.

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Prompts by: @/flightlessangelwings

Tagging people: @cowboymarcs @sad1st1c-wh0re @poopoobuttsy @boredzillenial @mllover260 @simpforbritgents @saevenswelt @partssoldseparately @keira-kaz2y5 @theincredibleinkspitter @l-lune @red-hydra

[chiiyuuvv]

Hiya sweetheart, can I request Riize and where they’d take you on a first date? Ty 💖

• PAIRING — riize x gn reader (i think again??😭 i have really bad memory omg)

• GENRE — some shyyy, some confident, some in the middle.. i really had a fun time writing this

• WORD COUNT — 732

• AUTHOR'S NOTE — ty for requesting!!

• TAGLIST — @moonlightdarlings • FULL CREDIT — @moonlightdarlings (i really feel bad for pestering you for ideas, when i didnt do anything so tyty and sorry :<)

MASTERLIST! – JOIN THE TAGLIST!

SHOTARO ☆

Shotaro would take you to a firework show at the beach!!

Would get a towel and gesture you to sit down, scooting right beside you

Using this time to get to know you more but just cant because how the wind is flowing your hair, the blue and red hue coloring you face makes you look even better

Small pda because he really likes you, but doesnt want to scare you away. His hand ghosting over yours until he finally gets the courage to hold it, looking down when you look at him

Say how pretty the fireworks are, but really he's just stealing glances at you and your smile

EUNSEOK ☆

At home date!!

Knows you spend a lot of time talking about your favorite movies and shows, so he clears the living room, kicks out all the members and prepares the show plus a bunch of snacks

A little self doubt when you come because should the pillow be facing the other way?? Are the snacks too sugary??

But melts when you speal and give him a big hug

And you didnt hear it from me, but hes defo daydreaming about that hug for the next five business days 🤭 ♡

SUNGCHAN ☆

Amusement park!!

Lays at how silly your hair looks after being on the roller coaster, guesturing you to come here so he can fix it

But realizes what hes doing, quickly batting his hands away from your hair and shyly scratches his neck

Takes you to the gift shop so you could try on different headbands, everyone in the store mistaking you as a couple

Also takes you to the photo booth so you could take lots of silly pictures together, which he puts them all in his phone case. (There's a pic where you're doing a silly pose and sungchan is looking at you fondly, but we dont talk about that) ♡

WONBIN ☆

Shopping date!!

We all know how much wonbin likes his fashion but hes also really curious about yours, and is willing to try it

Takes you to a milion little shops to try on clothes and boy the compliments he gives you, he's your own fanboy

But when you compliment him, he quick denies it, his face red and he keeps shaking his head no (that rhymes)

Pays for all of your belongs even when you tell him not too. So in return, you give a peck to his cheek... in front of everyone ♡

SEUNGHAN ☆

Takes you to this very fancy, romantic, over expensive date

He's dressed all square with the sweetest cologne that makes your head spin

And please, lets not forgot how flirty he'd get. Leaning over the table to wipe something off of the side of your mouth, his lips inches from yours and you just stop breathing. Very reasonable

"You know what my black card and love have in common? They're unlimited." ... "You're so cute when your blushing."

I cant think of anything else, so lets just take a moment to scream :) ♡

SOHEE ☆

Aquarium date!!

Takes picture of you and the turtles but say how you look cuter

Also the type to start small pda; holding hands while looking at the animals (the way i cant just picture the grin on his face, the way he'd look down at you, the way his eyes would shrink and how shy he'd get. I'm jumping off a cliff)

Buys you matching plushies and keychains, taking pictures of it to post on Instagram later

And maybe even a kiss when hes walking you home, saying how fun the day was. And if thats moving too fast then you're eating food while watching the penguins. The choice is yours :) ♡

ANTON ☆

Picnic by the lake!!

He was a little nervous about the whole thing, second guessing himself but when you start talking to him, he forgets all of his thoughts.

Is just feeling so calm and relaxed, laughing at whatever you say with a grin

When you're talking, he would randomly look into your eyes, before getting shy and looking away

Groans when you tell him how cute hes being, telling you to shut up with that soft voice of his ♡

BONUS ☆

All of them would defo smile to themselves after the date was over

Would text you "next week, 7 pm?"

And just so happy and giddy, falling alseep with a smile on their faces ♡

[ghostbustting]

Ok so,firstly hiii! I love your writing style sm!

Would you ever consider doing a Cliff or Jason one shot where the reader is super self conscious about her being “plus-size” and “not being a typical rockstar girlfriend” and them comforting her and it leads to some really sweet love making 😭

Cliff is my number one man and I hardly see any fics for him fr

CLIFFCLIFFCLIFF !! (yes i'm back. yes i'm disappearing again.)

♯ ; 𝑴𝒀 𝑮𝑰𝑹𝑳 ༘⋆

Cliff Burton x Plus size!Reader

Contains Smut.

With my own fingers fiddling with the hem of my uncomfortably fitting dress, my eyes wander around the diner booth we were all sitting at. By we, I was referring to me, my boyfriend Cliff, his three bandmates, and their awfully drop dead gorgeous girlfriends.

It was a relaxing Saturday night, Cliff had brought me with him to go have dinner with his bandmates and their girlfriends at some local diner.

However, the rest of the dinner night, I felt like I do not belong here, like I could never fit in well between these rockstars and their girlfriends. No matter how reassuring and comforting having Cliff's presence close next to me, it didn't make me oblivious to how much of a contrast the difference between me and his bandmates' girlfriends is.

They were perfectly good looking to say the least. Thin figures, curves accentuated perfectly in their tight dress they probably didn't have to overthink much about, no thunder thighs filling up their seats, smiles so wide without their cheeks looking like they're swollen.

On the other hand, I stood out... not in a very pleasing way. It's more like as if I was a sore thumb. My eyes could never stand the numbers that showed up on the weight scales whenever I stood on it. The beautiful small dresses I saw down the streets would never fit the shape of my body.

Cliff made it his task to make me feel loved, and I knew he really do love me. But it doesn't change the fact that I'm not what people expected, doesn't change the fact that I'm not the ideal rockstar's girlfriend.

So here I sat next to him, head hung low, the food I had ordered barely touched, my ears not even picking up on the conversation around me, eyes focused on getting the end of my dress to cover more of my insecure legs.

Even with my mind overwhelmed with that irritating sense of insecurity, the concerned gaze on me that came from Cliff’s eyes were something that I could never ignored, something so familiar that it would always hit me right away whenever I receive it, something I could recognize easily every single time.

It didn’t took long before I feel his warm hands take ahold of my cold ones, the pads of his thumbs running over my knuckles as I hear his beautiful voice whisper softly and gently into my ear, “Are you alright..? You feel sick..?” He asked, the worry accentuated enough in his voice.

However, I try to cover it up, “I’m alright..” I whisper back while shaking my head with a soft smile— a smile so forced and fake that obviously someone that knew me so well and so detailed like Clifford Lee Burton wouldn’t be fooled by.

”You’re not,” Cliff spoke, with an attempt to drown all the insecurity in me with his soft gaze, “I know my happy girlfriend when I see her and this is not her.”

A sigh leave my lips and my eyes look up at him, meeting his own in an instant. He could see the weak and soft gaze of my eyes, the way my eyebrows are slightly furrowed as if I was thinking about something. He can read me like a damn opened book and I can't decide whether I hate or love him for it.

My thoughts drifted away when I hear the man spoke again, this time towards his friends, patting Kirk's back, who was sitting on the chair beside him. "Sorry, it's getting late. We have.. other plans." He say.

That was in fact, not true. I was not aware of any other plans we have scheduled after this dinner.

Hence, a look of genuine confusion was etched onto my face as he took ahold of my hand and pull me up from my seat, giving me no time to say goodbyes or grab one last french fries when he lead me out of the diner with no words of explanation.

We found ourselves driving back to his place in a weird yet comforting silence. One of Cliff’s hands was holding onto mine while the other was fixated on the steering wheel. I can feel his thumb running over my knuckles every now and then, a gesture of comfort I’m used to receive from him.

My eyes drift from our hands to the window, watching as cars drove pass us, watching the motorcycles, watching as teenagers party, craving the body those gorgeous girls possess. My eyes would still run over their perfect figure if it wasn't for Cliff's voice that snapped me out of my trance.

"What's with you tonight?"

He asked. Usually, words like that would be taken as somewhat a complain. But with Cliff, it was clear by his voice that he was asking me out of concern. He wasn't wrong about knowing a happy me and a not happy me, it was quite easy. I would've been smiling to my eyes when I'm happy, words spilling out of my lips endlessly, unlike the state I was in earlier.

A sigh left my lips as I slowly turn my attention back to Cliff, the lights of Los Angeles and the red traffic light combined with the beautiful moonlight illuminates his face, his eyes shining more than how they already were.

"I.."

"Honest. Please. I hate not seeing your smile."

A squeeze of his hand was delivered to mine, making my heart flutter just the slightest bit. There was no way in hell I'm able to decline his plead for honesty.

Slowly, I begin to speak again, a hint of uncertainty was able to be heard in the words that left my lips in a quiet question. "..Do you ever regret dating me?" I ask, my voice soft, eyes avoiding his own as I feel that same exact concerned gaze over my face the moment his head instantly snapped my way.

I could feel his gaze on me for a few minutes until the light turned green, taking his focus again as he continue driving before asking me, "Wha— why would I regret dating you? Don't be silly." He chuckled softly, taking my hand up to his lips to kiss my knuckles.

The gesture was sweet, bringing a soft smile on my face. However, It didn't take too long before my smile faded away yet again slowly as my previous thoughts of insecurity builds back up in my mind. It was like a parasite, unable to be avoided.

”It’s just..” I let out a sigh, “James, Kirk, Lars...— They have these drop dead gorgeous girls as their girls. They’re beautiful, they’re in good shape, they’re— they’re the perfect rockstar girlfriend.”

Only when I feel the car stop and park did I realize we have arrived in front of his house, away from the chaos of the traffic, the door that leads to the inside of the house seems so inviting as my body yearns to just lay on his bed. Meanwhile, the silence between us felt somehow loud, if that even makes sense. And again, his eyes gazes over me.

Cliff let out a small chuckle, “So that’s the problem? You think I’d regret dating you because of this?—” He reach out and pinch the chubby cheek of mine, pulling on it slightly. My eyes slowly gaze up into his own, revealing my glassy eyes to him. A sigh leave his lips as he cup one of my cheeks. “You think I care about whether you’re as skinny as a branch or as fluffy as a pillow?”

I let out a small strangled chuckle at his words, trying to turn my head away, to which he prevent by cupping both of my cheeks now. “I don’t want a rockstar girlfriend. I just want my girlfriend. I just want you. I want you for your heart, for your smile, for your love.” Cliff spoke so sincerely it was impossible to not believe him, especially with how deep his eyes was gazing into mine.

The smile he made at my speechless state melts my heart, listening as he say, “Come on.” Shortly after, I watch him exit the car and jog around the front only to open the door on my side of the car, the sweet smile making a stay on his face as he reach for my hand and help me out, his other hand shutting the door behind me the moment my shoes lands on the ground.

Each and every move of his only made me love him even more.

My body stayed close to him, almost as if we were attatched like magnets, all the way as he leads me into his house and into his bedroom, his hand holding mine so firmly yet gently at the same time, as if he was afraid I’d slip away, as if he was afraid the insecurity will consume me and fade me away from his life. I always loved the way he touched me, always able to make me feel loved, even the moment I lost hope in loving myself, he always made me love myself with his own love.

Slowly, I sit down on the soft matress of his bed, a spot we often find ourself laying in after a tiring day, just wrapping each other in the other’s arms, where our problems never exist, only our bloomin love.

I feel the mattres beside me sink due to Cliff’s weight as he join me, sitting on the bed as well with his hand in mine still, the pad of his thumb running over my knuckles again and again softly, a motion I’ve found rather comforting. I can feel his lips pressing soft kisses all over my cheek, yet my head was hung low, eyes on my lap.

Yet the moment he notices, he held my chin in his free hand, slowly tilting my head towards him. “Look at me.” He smile softly, making me look at him. “I want you to let your mind rest, okay? Let go of your thoughts..” His voice was soft, I couldn’t help but give in and follow the instruction he gave me, letting my thoughts drift away, letting my focus to be for him and him only.

”My girl..” He breathed out, slowly leaning in till our lips eventually meet in a soft and gentle kiss, his palm coming to rest against my cheek, the other that was previousky holding my hand slowly trails to hold my waist instead, gently pushing me down to lay on my back, my head landing smoothly on his pillow.

I sigh against his lips and watch as he lay himself down next to me, mumbling, "Cliff.." The way his hands touch me all over made me felt important, as if I was the center of the earth. To him, I probably was. After all, he never failed to make me feel that way.

Within seconds, I feel my shirt slowly being slipped over my head, my hands coming to cover my body. Despite how many times we've done this, being bare and showing the insecurity I own beneath the fabric always rewinds. Yet, Cliff only chuckled and moved my hands away, his lips pressing a short peck on my stomach.

"Beautiful." In an instant, the tenses in my body relaxes as I hear his voice, a comforting and loving lullaby.

I feel his lips press and trail kisses all the way from my stomach down to the them of my panties, his fingers slowly hooking into the waistband and sliding it down, his eyes gazing up to inspect the way I was bitting my lip from his action alone.

The moment that panties of mine was discarded, Cliff's lips were quick to attach onto my cunt— desperate, yet gentle.

A moan manage to escape my lips, a soft call of his name, "Cliff.." His name seems to be the only thing available in my dictionary at the moment, finding it difficult to let out anything from the back of my throat other than a moan, curses, and his name.

Cliff's warm tongue slides in and out of me, the very tip of his nose nudging my clit every now and then as he eat me out, ignoring the way I was squirming above him, my hand trailing down to run through his long hair. "Fuck.." I whined, my hips bucking up to try and grind against his face.

His tongue was lapping up and down my folds like a dog, a hungry dog. He makes me feel wanted. And I can't help but want him as well.

Not long, he pull back from my pussy with his lips glistening with my slick, his fingers replacing what was once his tongue, two of them running up and down my folds before sliding through them, earning a gasp from me. I feel his lips against my thigh, yet I was too caught up on the feeling of his fingers.

"Can you feel it?"

My eyes struggles to meet his as I utter out a, "What— Feel what..?" Through my moans.

"Just how much I love you."

Right as the words leave his lips, I finshed right around his fingers, clenching the digits as I did so with a loud and uncontrollable moan, my back arching like a cat you'd see down the streets.

I hear a small chuckle and a gentle, "Good girl. My girl." Before I see him stand up, his hands going to his belt as he unbuckles it, swiftly throwing it away and slipping his jeans and boxers both at once, not even wasting his time for even just a second.

Seconds later, before I knew it, he was back on top of me, his body towering over mine as he lean down to press a kiss on my cheek, "My tonight, my tomorrow, my tomorrow night, my every night, and my every day are yours okay? I can't live through this without your sweet soul." He spoke with so much genuineness in his voice.

My thoughts evaporates into thin air as he slowly slides his cock through my folds, pulling out soft noises of pleasure from both of us as one of his hands came to rest on the pillow beside my head while the other holds my own hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it before he starts thrusting in and out of me, very gently.

Unlike the rather passionate love making we have done before, he was being extremely gentle this time, passionate still— yet mostly gentle and full of care as his eyes never broke the contact they had with my own eyes, a window that connects our souls.

I feel the tip of his cock hitting every special spots in me without even having to do it hard and fast. He knew me. The real me that lay upon all these insecurity. He knew me all too well. Yet he didn't even have to try. It was like nature have his own way with connecting us.

"I love you too.." I blurted out, a soft moan pulled out of the back of my throat as I slowly close my eyes.

Yet I feel his lips again, this time on my closed eyelids. "Don't close your eyes. I want you to look into my eyes and look deeply. So deep to the point you can see how much love I have." He spoke. Within seconds, my eyes were opened again and stared into his eyes again.

And just as he says, there was a certain look he had on.

A look of love.

So sweet. So deep. So tender.

His hips continue to move against mine, soft grunts slipping through his lips as my walls hug his cock just right. "Fuck.. My girl.." After he mumble this, his arms slowly wrap around my torso, his bodg pressed flushed against mine while his thrusts now becomes more deep, still in the gentle pace he was in earlier.

"Cliff..." I breathed out, my own arms around his body. Each time his cock thrusts into me, a moan would be pulled out of me while a grunt would be pull out of his, both of us becoming closer each seconds we spend in this bed.

"Come with me, sweetheart?.."

"Only with you.. Only with you.."

Not long, I feel an all too familiar knot in my stomach as he continue to hit every weak spot of mine. The way his lips were attached onto my neck and sucking marks wasn't helping with the feeling either. He could be so soft, yet I'll still be the most pleased girl in the earth. His girl.

Before I knew it, my high came crashing down around his cock, letting out a loud moan as his own seeds fill me up, his voice mumbled against my neck as he stayed close to me after our finish. I breathe in and out, all the troubles I had stomped away by a single love making.

But I knew it wasn't the love making

It was him.

He was clinging onto me like a koala, his head in my neck and his arms wrapped around me still yet so tightly, hands stroking my body in an affectionate way. He loves me. It was becoming clearer and clearer each day I spend here with him. He wants me for me. I was too blind to see the way it's all too obvious from his care, from his words, from his eyes.

And I love him too.

My boy.

[party-hearses]

pairing: dieter bravo x f!oc x f!reader (no use of y/n)

rating: explicit, MDNI 18+

word count: 6.6k

summary: your girlfriend and her close friend want to give you everything, and more.

warnings/tags: explicit smut, threesome, porn with some plot, breeding kink (heavy emphasis), pet names (baby a million times), alcohol consumption, dom/sub dynamics, sub!dieter, fingering, oral (f receiving), pegging, unprotected piv, squirting, creampie, painful sex (but it’s very consensual), overstimulation, very brief mention of drug use, cliff beasts 6 jumpscare. please let me know if i’m forgetting anything!

a/n: this fic belongs to @nostalxgic and @bastardmandennis; i cannot thank y’all enough for beta reading, letting me bounce ideas around, and allowing me to be depraved about this in general.

“It won’t be weird. I promise.”

You pause, toothbrush in your mouth, turning to face your girlfriend. “Em, I don’t know how it won’t be weird. The whole circumstance is weird.”

She tuts, sliding her hands across your hips from behind, fingers coming to rest at the soft place just below your stomach. “But worth it?”

“Worth it,” you confirm around the flimsy plastic between your lips. She pulls her hands away as you lean to spit toothpaste in the sink, mewling in protest.

“Sorry, baby,” she responds off-handedly, wrist curved, eyes on her watch. “I’m already running late — but I’ll see you tonight?” Her gaze meets yours again, reassuring and tender. “Everything will be fine. He already knows, he already agreed, this is just…a formality.” You watch in the mirror as she waves her hand around the word in the air, the confidence of the action settling the nervous needling in your belly.

You wipe the remnants of toothpaste off your mouth with the back of your hand before turning and stretching upwards to press a quick, chaste kiss to her lips. She’s out of the bathroom and down the hallway before you can make it more, the anxious excitement of it all making your fingertips buzz with desire.

“Worth it, baby! Just remember that!” she calls over her shoulder, the front door clicking closed behind her.

Your Lyft runs late, which you’re sure is a bad omen. Emily chalks it up to shitty traffic in a metropolitan city. You settle on both being right, neither wanting to spoil the night before it even starts. Not with so much on the line.

The restaurant you arrive at is casually upscale, all dark wood, gold flourishes, and the richest emerald green upholstery you’ve ever seen. The hostess leads you away from the bustling room in the front, to a more secluded area in the back, her bored smile not reaching her eyes.

Emily is tucked away in the large, nearly-empty room, alone in one of the grand booths. Relief rolls through your limbs, loosening them — you may be late, but you still manage to arrive before him.

Him — the mysterious entity that holds your future in the very palm of his hands. Emily hasn’t divulged much about him, meeting your questions with shrugs and ‘you’ll just have to meet him’s.

It doesn’t instill much confidence in you, which is why you’ve been so keyed up about the dinner date she’s set.

She anticipates your anxiety, handing you a glass of chilled white wine as soon as you crawl in the booth next to her. Just being near her reins you in, her pressed white button-up molded to the contours of her body, black blazer puddled in a heap next to her.

“You’re looking very corporate-sexy tonight,” you observe, lips pressed together in a slight frown as you pick up the glass. “How was work?”

Glancing up at the ceiling, she lets out a long, slow breath. “Let’s just say I’m happy to be here with you now.”

A smile pulls at the corners of your mouth, the reminder of exactly why you’re here settling low in your belly.

“Hey,” you whisper, tipping your glass in her direction, “cheers to having a baby put in me.”

“That’s my girl,” she grins, throwing back what’s left of her own wine.

You’re on your second glass of wine when a distinct buzz erupts from the front of the restaurant, as if all the energy in the building had burst at once. The same hostess, previously dead-faced and slouched over, pushes her shoulders back and wrings her hands nervously on the surface of the podium.

Knitting your brows together, you crane your neck to see exactly what — or whom — the commotion is all about. You can’t see much, just a pair of hands making animated gestures, multitude of rings catching the light of the foyer.

When the owner of the hands finally moves into view, it’s impossible to miss how devastatingly handsome he is — unkempt, overgrown brown curls framing the golden glow of his skin, a strong, masculine nose and hard lined jaw covered in dark scruff, broad frame under a wrinkled black t-shirt with Siouxsie and the Banshees scribbled across it. Elegantly disheveled, like he’d rolled out of bed hungover to show up at a red carpet event.

And a pair of sunglasses, no doubt designer, obscuring his eyes.

He dips his chin slightly to peer over them, gaze sweeping past the hostess to lock directly onto you. It startles you, the assuredness with which he does it. As though he’s looking for you. A dazzling grin splits across his features, his cheeks rounding with the size of it, never breaking eye contact.

But you do.

“Oh shit, Em! It’s Dieter Bravo!” you hiss, snapping your head back to stare wide-eyed at Emily. She’s watching him, too, but with a different expression — a knowing expression. Her eyes flit to yours for the briefest of moments, her plump lips curled into a shy smile.

“So it is.”

It takes you all but two seconds to put the pieces together, your mouth popping open in surprise when you do. Anxiety builds in your chest, the thought of letting a movie star impregnate you never having crossed your mind.

“Why didn’t you tell me that it was Dieter fucking Bravo? Why didn’t you tell me that you know Dieter fucking Bravo?” You keep your voice low, but sharp. Pulse quickening, panic spreading through your limbs once again, you grab at Emily’s arm.

“Didn’t want you to freak out more than you already were,” she replies, turning to you to brush a tangle of hair behind your ear. It’s gentle, more gentle than you deserve at this moment, allowing the boiling of your blood to settle to a low simmer. You chew your lip, dropping your hand into Emily’s lap to intertwine her fingers with yours.

Your eyes track between the two of them, Dieter’s approach to the table slowed by the hostess and a handful of patrons wanting autographs, pictures, handshakes — some moment of intimacy with a celebrity, some story to tell their friends.

But he keeps his eyes fixed on you, a tender smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth all the while.

When he does eventually reach the table, onlookers in his wake, Emily stands to greet him, but he extends his hands to you, picking your own up from its place on the table.

“Hello, gorgeous.”

His voice is strawberry ice cream with sticky cherries on top. You’ve only ever heard it on movie screens, and hearing it spoken directly to you sends waves of electricity up the column of your spine.

Your hand still in his, he brings it to his mouth, pressing the most delicate of kisses to your knuckles.

“Fucking corny,” Emily mumbles, shoving into his shoulder with the flat of her palm.

He laughs smoothly at the impact, finally removing his sunglasses to expose the warm amber of his irises.

“I’m Dieter.”

“I kn-…I…I’m…” you stutter, caught off guard not only by how much more handsome he is up close, but by how charming he is right off the bat.

“I know exactly who you are, sweet girl.” He kisses your knuckles once more for good measure, placing your hand gently back on the table before turning his attention to Emily.

“Em,” he grins, adoration seeping through the way he says her name. She matches his expression before they air kiss each other’s cheeks, his hands on her shoulders, and you’re all at once taken aback at how intimate it feels.

That same intimacy envelopes you as he slides into the booth, immediately beckoning the server over with two fingers in the air.

“What are you drinking?” His gaze is burning through you again, voice low. Like you’re the only two people in the room. You’re marginally aware of Emily’s fingers stroking the flesh of your inner thigh, too entranced with Dieter to pay attention.

You’ve always been aware of him as an enigma — celebrity tabloids capitalizing on his very public drug problems, interviews labeling him an eccentric artist. Not to mention the infamy of the Cliff Beasts 6-turned-scathing-documentary and his subsequent marriage.

The question falls out of your mouth before you can stop it, some strange combination of star-struck and anxious-enough-to-vomit knocking the sense out of you.

“Aren’t you married?”

He runs a palm over his mouth, failing to conceal the playful smile therein.

The server materializes right then, but Dieter keeps his eyes on you, even as he orders.

“Champagne. A bottle. We’re celebrating.”

Wicked curiosity flickers in the pool of his gaze, waiting to see your next move. The way a predator watches prey.

The only move you make is to look up at him through your lashes expectantly, hands folded in front of you. It’s Emily who quietly thanks the server, sending him on his way. Her own body language is relaxed, back sloped against the tufted material of the booth, thumb tracing aimless circles beneath the hem of your dress.

“So, I get to put a baby in you, hmm?”

Heat blooms across your chest, rising into your cheeks. Emily is as taciturn as you’ve ever seen her, unfazed by how direct the statement is, her fingers crawling higher to ghost the lace of your panties.

You squirm under both her touch and his stare, nodding lamely at the question, heart beating rapidly in your ears.

“I should be so lucky,” he breathes, drawing closer to you, skimming his knuckles over your cheekbone.

It’s sultry, the way he touches you. The way Emily lets him touch you. You’re all doe-eyes and plush parted lips when she tips forward to whisper don’t be nervous, baby, into the shell of your ear.

And you’re not — not anymore.

The champagne comes, nestled cozily into a bucket of ice, at the same time Emily’s work phone buzzes, hard and jarring against the surface of the table.

“Hafta get this,” she grumbles, eyes falling to the screen, voice edged with irritation. Dieter acknowledges her with a tip of his head as she excuses herself from the table, already barking orders at the person on the other end of the line.

The server pops the cork, pouring the bubbly liquid into three glasses, and you feel the vibration of it in your bones.

In any other circumstance, you’d be self-consciously fidgeting with your dress, or reaching for the champagne too quickly, or avoiding eye contact completely. But it feels different with Dieter, natural. Like you’d been here a million times before — like he’d touched you a million times before.

“So,” he prompts, fingers brushing yours as he hands you one of the glasses, “Emily tells me you’re an artist?”

You sip the drink, the bubbles tickling your belly as they settle.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

He gives a sly half-smile, eyes sparking with humor as he leans back to tip his own drink into his mouth. He extends an arm over the back of the booth, and you notice for the first time the solid black triangle tattooed there. He doesn’t say anything when you reach out to glide your fingers over it, just notches his head to watch it happen.

“I’m not married.”

“Oh?” You raise a brow, glancing back in his direction.

He shakes his head slowly, studying you. “Didn’t quite work out that way.”

You say nothing, just sip your drink again coyly without breaking eye contact. It keys him up, you can tell, by the way he downs the rest of the champagne in his glass.

“Figure I deserve to know, if we’re gonna be…involved, in whatever capacity.”

His eyes flash then, pupils nearly swallowing the color around them. Unbeckoned, the server returns to fill your glasses, but Dieter doesn’t even look his way.

“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know,” he breathes, leaning in to diminish the space between your bodies.

You wave your hand in the air in front of you, an invitation. He knows what you’re asking — what everyone asks. He sucks in a deep breath.

“Covid really fucked me up, if I’m being totally honest. Not that I didn’t have issues before…but quarantine really…exacerbated them. And lucky for me, it’s all on tape.” He grins.

Bringing your glass back up to your lips, you consider this. It’s endearing, the way he’s at ease with himself. How he can make a joke of it, but still feel entirely authentic.

“Isn’t it kind of weird, us asking you to do this?” It’s a genuine question, playful pretense dropped.

He shrugs, sipping his champagne again. “I’m kind of a weird guy.”

You giggle, mind made up. Adrenaline surges through you, and you’re almost surprised when you recognize the depth of your desire with it.

Emily makes her way back to the table, shaking her head and typing out of a message on her phone. She stops next to you, finally looking up, eyes darting between you and Dieter.

“I want Dieter to come home with us tonight.”

You don’t need to look at him to know that he wants it, too. That he’s wanted it since the moment he sat down. You drop your hand to his thigh, squeezing suggestively.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Emily grins in response.

Dieter familiarizes himself with the living room as Emily opens another bottle of champagne in the kitchen. The quick popfizz of the cork excites you, makes you clench your thighs in anticipation. You’re so aware of your body in this moment — the curves and swells, the scorching heat rolling through your veins. The arousal you’ve felt all night is on the very tip of your tongue, threatening to spill over.

He’s looking at your framed photos on the mantle, hands nonchalantly buried in his pockets. He looks so competent, you think, standing on the precipice of this. It’s endearing. It’s sexy.

“Dieter.” His name leaves your lips as a purr, low and sultry. There’s a smirk pulled across his mouth as he turns to face you, as his eyes rove over your flushed form, as he closes the distance between the two of you.

The atmosphere in the room is thick, a heady electricity buzzing in your ears as he drops next to you on the couch, solid thigh pressing into yours. It doesn’t take more than a moment for him to take your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, angling your face to him. His lips ghost yours, a barely-there kiss that makes you pout and chase his touch.

He laughs, a sweet, gentle laugh that makes your blood spike, and you press your mouth to his hard enough to bruise. He reciprocates by running his hand down your body to grasp your thigh, dragging you over top of him. He nips at your bottom lip, begging for entrance, and you let him devour you, kissing you like he’s waited too long to do so.

There are fingers at your neck, sliding up into your hair to fist at the root and tip your head backwards. You mewl, lips abruptly torn from Dieter’s, but Emily’s quickly replaces them, licking into you attentively while Dieter laves kisses across your collarbones.

You can feel how hard he is beneath you, and you grind down onto him, searching for friction — for relief. He catches on quickly, canting his hips up into you, wordlessly encouraging you to take, take, take.

“Let’s get you out of this dress, baby,” he groans when it’s too much, cradling your ass with his hands tight enough to him that he can stand, to carry you into the bedroom.

It’s hard to keep up with who belongs to which touch — Dieter’s calloused fingers grip your thighs from beneath, wrenching them apart, your dripping sex on display. He’s on his knees, wedged between your splayed legs, while Emily’s deft maneuvering of the hard peaks of your nipples is familiar, her tongue against the column of your neck keeping you grounded, present.

She’s sat back on her haunches, muscular thighs making a home against your hips, allowing you to slope back against her body. Her head is dipped to the hollow of your neck, but you know her eyes are on Dieter — on the way he kisses the soft space just below the round fullness of your tits, the way he nips at the tender flesh of your ribs and belly.

You can’t help but reach out and card your hands through the length of his hair as he kisses further down your body, pulling back just slightly when he gets to your glistening cunt. You feel Emily grin against your skin, still watching.

“She wet, D?”

“Soaking,” he mumbles, before licking a broad stripe through your folds, eyes hazy. His arms hook beneath you, fingers curling so his rings press indents into the softest parts of you. He holds you to his mouth, the thick chain around his neck and coarse mustache scratching against your silk skin.

It’s overwhelming.

Dieter circles your clit with his tongue expertly, drawing it down every few strokes to taste the salt of your slick. Your head falls back against Emily’s shoulder, quiet moans punctuating the sound of his mouth against you.

His tongue snakes into you, the sudden intrusion making you gasp and grind down against the lower half of his face. He hums in approval, arm stretching across your body to pin you down, to hold you still. You tug on a handful of messy curls, fingertips catching deliciously against his scalp.

His hums take the languid shape of groans, and you feel him rocking his hips down into the mattress, searching for some sense of relief with the friction.

“Use your fingers, D,” Emily growls, in a voice you’ve never heard before. A different kind of thrill winds up your limbs, digging its tendrils into you as her mouth moves down to meet her fingers, drawing your nipple taut between her teeth.

At her command, he unwraps his hand from your thigh to nudge a thick finger against your opening, still lapping at your wetness with his broad tongue. You’re nodding and mewling and clenching — please D, please — so when he grants you an extra finger, stars burst behind your eyes. He presses them all the way in, crooking at an angle that makes your hips cant upwards desperately.

“So tight,” he mutters, dragging the rough tips against your velvet walls again, finding that place deep within you that makes everything feel fizzy and hot.

“Good boy,” Emily purrs around your pebbled nipple, and Dieter moans against you, eyes fluttering shut.

“Say it again, Em.” His words are mangled, lips suctioning to your clit, gently toying with the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Emily giggles darkly, a taunt if you’ve ever heard one.

“Not until you make baby cum all over your fingers.”

Dieter’s eyes flash open, locking onto yours from his place between your legs. The warm amber of them is alight with lust, eclipsed by the blown-out black of his pupils.

The urgent need rolling off his skin turns you inside out, makes the muscles in your abdomen pull taught. You feel as wrecked as he looks, the soft edges of an orgasm swirling into focus in your core.

“Gonna cum,” you manage, the words edged out by your quickening breath.

“Cum for D, baby,” Emily implores. “Cum for us.”

Dieter can feel how close you are, too, given the way he pumps his fingers into you with a new ferver, one final suck of his mouth tipping you over into oblivion.

Your cunt clenches around his massive digits, head lolling into the crook of Emily’s neck as the waves of pleasure overwhelm you. She skates her fingers up the delicate line of your neck to grasp your jaw, wrenching it up to press your lips to hers, swallowing every moan that you emit.

Dieter fucks you through it, flattening his hand against your abdomen to prolong his ability to gather the slick that pours out of you on his tongue.

“Good boy, Dieter,” Emily repeats the praise between kisses, “very, very good boy.”

He draws his fingers out of you, growling as he raises his body and sucks them into his mouth. You watch, Emily’s tongue massaging hot against yours, as he savors the taste of you on his skin. Your slick shines wet on his cheeks, glitters in his facial hair.

You rove your gaze over the entirety of his hulking form, hard muscles and soft belly, kneeling at your altar. Ready and willing to give you the one thing you so badly want, without hesitation.

Emily peppers kisses down your cheek and jaw, allowing you to turn your full attention to Dieter. The lingering aftershocks of your orgasm intensify as he drops his hand to the base of his cock, the head flushed dark and dripping pre-cum when he squeezes.

He looks like heaven.

There’s a smirk pulled across his mouth as he bears his weight back down on his arms, crawling up the bed to hover over your pliant body. He ghosts his knuckles across your womb, dipping his head to press kisses down the other side of you.

“Can’t wait to see you round with our baby, baby.” Emily murmurs, her gaze flitting up to Dieter’s hand on the place below your stomach, the reality of it settling into your bones.

It’s all consuming, the sudden need to have Dieter buried to the hilt inside of you — to give you a baby. You mewl, a pathetic, broken sound, grasping his wrist to drag his hand back down to your aching sex.

“Mmm, needy little thing, aren’t you?”

Emily hums in agreement, hands grasping at your hips from behind.

Dieter cups your mound in his large hand, raising his head to meet Emily’s eyes.

“Can I fuck her, Em?”

She tips her head to the side, pressing a final kiss to the sensitive skin of your throat.

“Hmm, I don’t know, D,” she teases, nosing the soft cut of your jaw. “What do you think, baby? Has he earned it?”

You nod enthusiastically, needing, needing, needing, elevating your hips to rock your core in Dieter’s hand.

“Okay, baby.” She turns her gaze to Dieter again, reaching out to trace his plush bottom lip with her thumb. His eyes are glassy, chest rising and falling raggedly. “Can’t cum til I say, right, D?”

“Yes, Em.”

She pushes her thumb into his mouth, his lips wrapping around it obediently. She bites down on her bottom lip, and you can feel her pulse pick up from where you lie.

“Sit up, baby,” she suddenly directs, easing you forward. Dieter follows, backing up onto his knees, wrapping his arms around your form to keep you pressed against his chest. He smells like sex and smoke and you, and it’s intoxicating.

Before you can fully process what you’re doing, you’re wrapping your fist into the curls at the nape of his neck, dragging his face down so you can taste yourself on his lips. He reciprocates immediately, licking into you with such intensity that you both nearly stumble over.

You wrap your other arm around his neck, his own tightening in their embrace around you. It’s secure — so secure that you don’t feel Emily slip out from her place behind you.

Dieter’s mouth doesn’t leave yours as he guides you down onto your back, nudging your legs apart with his knee. He only pulls away to glance down as he grasps the base of his cock, notching himself against your slick entrance.

“Wait, D,” you whine, pushing feebly against the solid plane of his chest. “Wanna be on top.”

He draws back, eyes searching yours.

“Are you sure? It’s…I’m…I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“She can take it,” Emily cuts sternly from somewhere behind him. “She’s a good girl. She’ll take whatever you give her.”

He knows better than to question further.

Reaching backwards, he pulls one of your legs around his abdomen, and you follow by doing the same with the other. He slips a massive arm behind your back, and in one swift motion, he’s flipping you both over.

He settles his mussed halo of curls on the pillow, maneuvering your abdomen to situate your cunt just over the length of his cock. You roll your hips forward, catching his tip against your swollen clit. A ribbon of light unfurls down your spine, tightening around it when he groans from low in his throat.

You flatten your palms against his chest, anchoring yourself as you rock against him a second time.

“C’mere sweet girl,” he rasps, planting a thick hand against your hip to poise his leaking head against your entrance.

A tangled pant escapes your lips as you finally sink down onto him, the sumptuous sting of the initial stretch waning into an insistent throb.

“Fuu-uuck, baby,” he gasps, “you’re so tight.”

Neither of you move for a moment, each adjusting to the other, the walls of your pussy clenching around him.

Emily drops behind you, kneeling between Dieter’s legs. Her hands slide down your sides, one grasping at your waist to encourage you forward, to make you move, the other stroking wicked ministrations at your throbbing clit.

Dieter grunts out a strangled noise, his fists balled in the sheets beneath him. Emily tuts, removing her hand from your side to grip his wrist, placing his palm over your breast. She pushes her fingers over his, a silent direction to squeeze.

He obeys, lifting his other hand to caress the full roundness of your tits, drawing his fingernails over the peaks of your nipples. You shiver, goosebumps rising over the span of your arms and thighs.

You’re moving against him faster now, his cock hitting athe deepest parts of you. It’s so much, you’re so full, and the tight circles that Emily rubs across your clit send you spiraling to the edge.

Emily can feel it in the way your back arches against her, can see it in the way you tremble over Dieter’s cock, can hear it in the way your breath hitches and soft, breathy moans punch the air between you.

“Baby’s gonna cum, D. Look how good you’re doing,” she coos. “What a good boy you are.”

He clenches his eyes closed, focusing on anything but how your tits feel in his palms, on the heavy drag of his cock in your soaked folds.

“D,” Emily directs, leaning across you to dig her fingers into his cheeks. “You know better than to close your eyes.”

His fluttering lids pop back open, expression pleading, jaw slack. But Emily angles his head so he’s forced to look at the way he’s splitting you open, how the soft pads of her fingers are undoing you.

And you break, then, throwing your head back and bearing down on Dieter’s cock, fast and hard. Your orgasm washes over you, stars bursting behind your eyelids. Dieter growls, low and animalistic — primal.

“Again.” Emily’s voice is gruff in your ear, her fingers relentless at the apex of your thighs.

“I…I don’t think…” you start to stammer, but she hushes you by leaning in and pressing her tongue into your open mouth.

“Again,” she repeats when she pulls back.

Your moans shift into broken pleas, high-pitched and desperate. Dieter pulls at your hard nipples, rolling them between his skilled fingers. He’s groaning, too, eyes half-lidded and chest flushed.

It’s all so much, your body tightening more, more, more, hypersensitive from not having come down yet.

“You like it, baby? Like bouncing up and down on his cock? Like knowing he’s gonna cum so deep inside you?”

“L-like it, Em. Like it.” You mumble, vision deliciously blurred, words meaning nothing to you.

“Love seeing you cock drunk and babbling. It’s the only way I’ll let him give you a baby, baby. If you let him fuck you stupid.”

Dieter’s fucking up into you now, your own body no longer capable of being in control. His movements are sloppy, erratic, arms wrapped around your waist for leverage, but hitting every part that you need him to. Emily’s pace on your clit is grueling, tears pricking at the backs of your eyes.

But you’re cumming again, strangling Dieter’s cock with your convulsions, slick streaming out of you, pooling in the cradle of his hips. Fat, salty tears roll down your cheeks.

Emily finally drags her fingers back, smearing slick across your hip, skating them up your body to deposit them in your mouth. You suck obediently, obscenely, eyes closed. She laughs lowly, delighted at your capitulation.

And then she’s gone, her footsteps receding across the bedroom floor.

It takes everything in you to stay upright, Dieter’s weighty arms and warm chest an alluring invitation. But you know you’re not done, the grand finale within tasting distance.

Dieter shifts, loosening his grip, slowing his movements. Allowing you both some reprieve from the overstimulation, a chance to catch your breaths. He doesn’t stop completely, however, rocking up into you deliberately — almost sweetly.

It doesn’t last. You hear Emily return, her steps stopping at the threshold of the door.

“Look at our pretty girl, Em,” Dieter babbles, fingers splayed across the globes of your ass. He drives up into you again, hard, using his hands to spread you apart from behind at the same time. Putting all of you on display — your stretched open cunt, strained against his length, and the delicate ring of muscle just above — for Emily, who smirks from her place in the doorway.

You look over your shoulder at her, eyes hooded and chest heaving, your breath catching when you see what she’s sporting — the black harness and pink strap that you’re so accustomed to. You swallow hard, unprepared.

“O-oh. I didn’t know…”

“S’not for you, baby,” she chuckles, gesturing towards Dieter with her chin. You watch, mesmerized, as she runs her hand over the length of the toy, as commanding as you’ve ever seen her, while striding across the room.

Dieter whines when he sees it, his hips stalling against you, eyes practically rolling back in his head at just the idea of it. It would be pathetic, if it didn’t turn you on to see him so needy.

Emily comes to stand beside you, skating the tips of her fingers up the notches of your spine. The neon toy bobs suggestively between you, and despite your heavy limbs, your mouth waters.

She flattens her palm against the small of your back, effectively crumpling your lithe body against Dieter’s chest with little effort. He whimpers in your ear, cock flexing against your walls at the sudden change in position.

But he’s impatient, and Emily is persistent.

“Up,” she commands, tapping his thigh twice before moving to stand at the end of the bed. He obeys, rolling your both over gently, depositing you on your back, pressing reassuring kisses to your neck and collarbones.

“I got you,” he mumbles knowingly into your sticky skin, before Emily grasps his thighs from behind to drag him down the length of the bed.

You yelp, a giggly, surprised kind of yelp, as his grip pulls you with him, cock still buried in the furthest reach of you.

He’s kissing you again, tasting you with a different kind of urgency, while he hovers above you on all fours.

“You’ve been so good, D, giving baby what she needs,” Emily soothes, voice dripping with lust — with authority. “Now it’s your turn to get what you need.”

His body stills, save for the pounding of his heart against yours, his forehead dropped to rest on the slope of your shoulder. His heavy breath punches near the base of your throat, a hard swallow as you hear the cap on the bottle of lube click open.

You watch Emily through your lashes over the incline of Dieter’s back, his hips raised in perfect alignment to her imposing cock. She squirts the slippery liquid on her hand, and Dieter’s body quivers at the noise — at what he knows is imminent.

The way she jerks her hand up and down over the toy sets a fire in your belly, and you can’t help but arch beneath Dieter, your vigor renewed at the sight of it. You so badly want him to move, to buck back into you, to fuck you until he cums.

Emily smirks from where she stands, dripping the lube over the curves of Dieter’s ass, and you feel his jaw tighten against you when she does. It’s followed by a dark giggle as she trails her fingers through the slick, spreading it over every part of him.

“Ready, D?”

He hums in affirmation, a desperate, splintered noise that rolls across your skin. A plea.

She slips one finger inside him, all the way to the knuckle. He responds in kind, his hips jerking into you, a guttural moan crawling from his throat.

“Enough?” she taunts, pumping in and out of him the same way he’d done to you.

His hips keep rhythm with her, and the relief pooling low in your cunt makes you want to sob.

He shakes his head, mouth moving to capture your nipple, laving his tongue against the peak of it.

“Say it, D.”

“More,” he growls in response, muffled by the flesh of your breast. “More.”

Emily inserts a second finger, and he keens, driving into you with more force than he has all night. You squeak, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to steady yourself, the warm metal of his chain heavy beneath your fingers.

His hips snap against you relentlessly, almost painfully. Your lashes flutter against his sweat-damp curls, and in one swift moment, Emily removes her fingers to be replaced by the toy.

She pushes all the way into him, grinding against the meat of his ass when she reaches the hilt. His body arcs, hammering into your already-used pussy with such power that a choked sob catches in your throat.

Tears swim in your eyes again, streaming down your cheeks only when Dieter hooks his arm under your thigh to press it up into your ribs. Your calf rests on his shoulder, and the position stretches you open more than you ever have been before.

“Mmm, perfect, D,” Emily approves, voice faltering. “If you really want to put a baby in her, you need to cum deep.”

He grunts in agreement, his breathing shattered and sharp. You can feel the way Emily thrusts into him as he thrusts into you, and it’s all at once too much.

Heat swirls in your cunt, tight, tight, tight, snapping as Dieter’s groans grow louder in your ear. Seeing him come undone sends pinpricks of intense pleasure over every part of your body, and you think you brokenly whisper the words gonna cum into his hair.

He pounds into you hungrily, encouraged by the way your pussy pulses around his thick length. It’s all you need — your cunt spasming, devouring, taking, as another orgasm rips through you, stealing the air from your lungs. Everything following is a white static.

Dieter isn’t far behind, his thighs shaking between you and Emily, torn between the push and pull of giving and receiving deliciously.

“Need to cum,” he finally cuts, voice tight. He doesn’t stop, but Emily doesn’t stop either, still slamming into him as hard as he does into you.

Emily doesn’t hesitate in her response.

“No. Not yet. Need to make baby cum one more time.”

Those words cut through, a knife through the fog.

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,” you cry, fingernails digging into Dieter’s muscular shoulders, at the same time Dieter cries out.

“Please, Em,” he begs, voice cracking through the air in the room. “Please.”

“One more,” she directs, hands gripping Dieter’s hips, guiding him back onto her length. “You can, baby. You can.”

You’re sobbing now, knee pressed into your chest, spread open, split in two, stuffed full.

“You can, baby, you can,” Dieter echoes in your ear, his own voice just as desperate — strained and thick. “Cum for me. Let me give you a baby.”

And you do, melting beneath his solid body completely, tears dripping down your temples into your hair. It overtakes you entirely, slick gushing from your aching cunt, soaking both Dieter and the sheets beneath you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dieter spits, and you can taste the urgency in his voice. “I can’t…I need…baby, you’re so fucking tight.”

“Ask for it, D.” Emily smirks, knowing, too, that he’s well past the point of return.

“Pl…please. Need…need… to c-cum,” he chokes, thrusts brutal and frantic.

“Cum, then. Give baby a baby.”

Immediately, Dieter’s entire body tenses, tight as a bow string, before he’s fucking into you with reckless abandon, arms flexing, primal growls ripping from deep in his chest. He presses his open mouth to your shoulder, teeth scraping your buzzing skin, as thick ropes of cum spill inside of you.

Time slows as it happens, your awareness of every pulse and clench of his cock heightened. There’s so much of it — flooding your pussy, gushing out around his still-hard cock, dripping down the curve of your ass.

For what feels like an eternity, the only sounds in the room are three rugged, matching breaths.

“Good boy, D,” Emily finally gasps, leaning forward to ruffle his curls affectionately. “You did so good.”

He mumbles something against your skin that you can’t make out, but sounds a lot like thank you.

Your head is still swimming, the bittersweet throb between your thighs persistent.

Dieter finally pulls out, delicately, easing his frame down next to yours.

“Okay, baby?” he mumbles into your ear, and you think you nod.

Your eyelids are heavy, so heavy, body overwrought and sensitive to the touch. But you don’t pull away when he nuzzles into your neck, lips grazing the tender flesh there. The pads of his fingers slide back and forth over your womb a few times, a mesmerizing movement that lulls you half to sleep.

“Sit up,” Emily whispers, rousing you just enough that you let her guide your malleable body to a sitting position. “Arms.”

You obey, eyes still cloudy, raising your arms over your head so Emily can pull a t-shirt down over your exposed body. It’s too big, and smells too much like Dieter, to be your own. The material puddles in your lap, and Dieter fists the hem to tug you back down to him. He’s all soft sighs and kitten licks when you capitulate, open palm tugging your hips flush to him.

Then the mattress bows, Emily climbing on the other side of you, sandwiching your body between the two of them. She gently clasps your cheeks, angling your face towards her so she can press her mouth to yours reverently.

“Tired, baby?”

“Mmhmm,” is all you can muster, your limbs still liquid.

Dieter presses his forehead to the contour of your shoulder, warm breath fanning your dewy skin when he speaks in a whisper.

“I should go.”

Your eyes fly open, and you’re squirming around to face him, winding your legs into his to cling to him.

“No. I want you to stay. I want you to stay at least until it’s for sure,” you pout.

He cranes his neck to look across you at Emily, unsure how to proceed. She laughs affectionately, brushing away the hairs clinging to your sweat-damp forehead.

“Baby makes the rules, D.”

“Baby makes the rules,” he affirms, dropping his hand between your legs to thumb any stray drips of cum back into you.