#but I have plan to try to pull off bisexual lighting on them

[nocek]

well hello there, please don't mind me using valentines as motivator to at least finish this lineart (but hey, it worked!)

now time for colors and trying to pull of complicated shadows.... yeah. that's going to not be as fun as this part >.<

[rogueddie]

Change / Gloom

It's not hard to figure out that Eddie is gay- or bisexual? Steve isn't sure. All he knows, undoubtedly, is that Eddie Munson likes men.

The rumors from high school definitely do a lot of the heavy lifting in regards to Steves revelation. But he knows what it looks like when people are attracted to him. He knows exactly what it looks like when people try to hide that they're attracted to him.

His first test was simple; stretch. The bottom of his polo always rides up and, as expected, Eddies eyes lingered on the slither of skin on display.

A simple test. An easy one.

The second test is not so easy- it requires Robins help and she's not the most subtle. Luckily, she's as keen as he is on getting him a boyfriend (specifically, an Eddie-shaped boyfriend), so she puts in as much effort as she can at being convincing.

Eddie admitted to her that, yeah, Steve is attractive. That he also finds Steve attractive. And not in a straight way!

("What the hell does that even mean?" Robin had asked, when Steve insisted that she needs to clarify that. "If he's attracted to you, it can't be straight!"

"It totally can," Steve tutted. "Tommy was attracted to loads of guys in a straight way."

"I'm going to ignore that because we don't have time to unpack any of that-")

He hadn't expected Robin to be so convincing, or for Eddie to be so open yet. It ruins his very thought out plan in the best way- he only needs to confirm if it's more than just physical attraction now, and that's the easy part.

"You're late," Steve greets. He leans his hip against the doorway, crossing his arms.

Eddie rolls his eyes. "So sorry, princess. You gonna let me in?"

"Say please."

"Please." He shifts, trying to look annoyed, putting his hands on his hips. The hall light illuminates his face too well for Steve to miss the slight blush.

Steve steps back, beckoning him as dramatically as he can manage without feeling like an idiot.

"Eddie!" Dustin calls, waving him over to the couch.

Robin already helped Steve make it so there's only two spots left open... Eddie, like they'd hoped, choses the corner so he can lean over to talk to the kids.

Once he's checked the door is definitely locked, peeking into the kitchen to make sure the back door is also shut, he plops down on the sofa. He shifts, stretching his legs out so his thigh is pressed up against Eddies.

It's not until the movie starts that Eddie leans over and whispers; "what are you doing?"

Steve quietly hums, raising an eyebrow.

Eddie gently kicks his ankle. "That. And at the door."

"I can't be friendly?" Steve whispers, with a teasing little smirk- it always used to have girls stuttering.

"Not like this," Eddie hisses. "Back off."

"What? I was just-"

"I know. I'm telling you to stop."

Steve slowly pulls back so they aren't touching as much- where they're sat doesn't leave much space.

He feels unmoored. He's never felt so wrong about his chances- even at Scoops Ahoy, despite his attempts, he knew he was probably going to get rejected. He's not sure he has ever been so off.

"I'm getting some popcorn," Eddie says quietly, towards the mid-point of the movie.

"I'll help," Steve quickly offers, jumping to his feet before Eddie can turn his offer down.

"Hey," Robin pipes up, grabbing his arm and giving him a light squeeze- reassurance, comfort. "Make me that ice cream shake I like."

"Understood," Steve nods, giving her a lazy salute.

It takes a good few minutes to make, giving the two of them more time alone in the kitchen.

She's giving him the green light.

"Sorry about that," Steve says quietly, once they're in the kitchen. "Didn't mean to come on too strong. Or, like, if it's too public. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

He doesn't say anything for a long moment. He keeps his back turned to him, waiting in front of the microwave, shoulders hunched to his ears.

Steve isn't sure whether he should say anything else. He looks uncomfortable. Steve isn't sure if speaking up would make it worse or-

"Who told you?" He eventually asks. He finally turns around, expressions dangerously blank. "Was it Gareth?"

"What?"

"He probably meant well," he ponders. His smile doesn't reach his eyes- it makes something uncomfortable squirm in Steves stomach. "He never did have the displeasure of meeting King Steve."

"Eddie-"

"It's ok though, right? You didn't mean to make me uncomfortable."

"What the fuck are you talking about, man? Are you mad that I, like... know? Is that it?"

"Is that it?" Eddie repeats, mockingly. "No, Harrington. I don't care that you know- most people guessed it, what's one more? No, I care that you're making fun of me."

"I'm not making fun of you."

"Really? Could've fooled me."

He turns back to the microwave- it dings, but Eddie stays there, pretending to be busy.

Waiting for Steve to leave.

"I'm not making fun of you," Steve tries again, hating how wobbly his voice sounds. "I was- I mean, I thought maybe, you, um... but if not, that- that's ok, I can, like... fuck."

Eddie slowly turns, frowning, looking slightly more concerned- but the suspicion still lingers. "Spit it out."

"I thought you might like me but I don't know if it's just physical so I thought I'd try and flirt as a way of testing the waters before actually trying to ask you out," Steve rushes out in one breath.

"You were... actually flirting?" Eddie blinks at him, slowly. "Seriously? Not a joke? But... what? I thought you were straight?"

"So did I," Steve shrugs, scratching the back of his neck. "Never really, um... thought about romancing a guy before."

"Before..?"

"Before you."

"Holy shit." Eddie goes to pinch himself- stopping at the last second with a shake of his head. "If I'm dreaming, don't wake me up."

"This is your idea of a good dream?"

"You know damn well it is, you little brat." Eddie laughs, shaking his head again, in disbelief. "I've fucked this up a bit, huh? Can we start again?"

"Oh. yeah, sure, of course, uh-"

"Wait, no, I don't have the patience for that," he quickly darts around the kitchen table, grabbing Steves waist and pulling him close. "This alright? Not gonna say psych?"

"If you don't kiss me right now, I just might."

"Say please."

[steddieas-shegoes]

firsts and seconds

for @corrodedcoffinfest day one prompt 'firsts'

rated t | 1000 words | cw: alcohol mention | tags: i would die for gareth emerson, i don't think you understand, bisexual king gareth emerson

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

Gareth is the baby of the group, always has been, always will be. He's a year younger than Jeff and Frankie, and four years younger than Eddie. He was behind in everything, but it just was how it was.

He was a drummer and they needed one. The fact that he was the best drummer in a 100 mile radius helped.

But because of them hitting the ground running the moment he graduated, he didn't really get to have much of a regular young adult life.

He didn't really have much of a rockstar one either.

He had three extremely overprotective big brothers constantly by his side making sure he didn't do anything dumb, but they also made sure he didn't do anything at all.

"Promised your mom we would watch out for you," Jeff said.

"Last thing we need is you getting involved with some girl and ruining the band," Frankie said.

"Don't rush it, man," Eddie said.

But Gareth was now 20 years old and had never even kissed a girl. Or a boy, he didn't know what he was into. How could he? None of them would leave him alone long enough in the bars he was technically too young to get into to try.

Tonight. He would find a way to shake them tonight. He'd find a girl in the crowd, he'd buy her a drink, and he'd hope that she'd at least be willing to check this one thing off his list.

If he was gonna be a rockstar, he should get to kiss someone.

They were playing a smaller venue tonight, opening for a band that was bigger than them in theory, but not in talent. Story of their lives.

Hopefully, everyone would be distracted by the main act to not pay attention if he slipped off.

He was dripping sweat, cursing the fact that these small venues never had decent ventilation or fans for them to cool off, and the stage lights were always too close, building up a furnace on the stage.

His drums were packed, his shirt rolled up to help him cool off the best he could while he sipped on water. He hadn't even gotten a beer tonight, a nervous flutter in his stomach that he didn't want to make worse with feeling bloated from the combination of hops and heat.

"Gare!" Jeff's voice interrupted his walk towards the bar.

Dammit.

"You wanna head out? We're all so fuckin' hot."

"Yeah, yeah, let me just grab another water. Feeling kinda lightheaded."

That was definitely not the right thing to say. Jeff's mouth turned down in a concerned frown.

"Well, let's get you outside then. You need some fresh air. Eddie!" Eddie yelled back in acknowledgement. "Get Gareth a water!"

"I'm okay, I can get it." He argued, desperate to let his plan work. "You guys head out, be there in a few."

"Like hell am I leaving you alone when you're not feeling good," Jeff wrapped his arm around his shoulders and started pulling him towards the door. "You gotta speak up sooner."

"Jeff. Please."

Something in his voice must have alerted Jeff to the seriousness of his plan because he quickly pulled his arm away.

"What's going on?"

"I just need to be alone for a bit. Please?" Gareth wasn't afraid to pull out the pout. The pout worked on his mom every time. It had to work now, too. "Just for a little bit?"

Jeff searched his face, probably trying to see if there was something he should be worried about.

"I'll distract them for 15 minutes. But that's all I can guarantee," he finally agreed. "Whatever it is you're planning, please be safe. Please."

"What the hell could I possibly get up to in 15 minutes?"

Jeff sighed. "Don't ever ask that question to Eddie or Frankie."

He walked away and Gareth watched as he convinced them both to walk outside, probably to get some fresh air. He probably didn't have to be that convincing.

God, it was so hot.

The bar area of the venue was crowded, a lot of people taking the break between sets to throw back a shot or chug a beer. He genuinely did just need a water, so he forced his way through the people and got the attention of the bartender.

"Not a fan of beer?" A woman in a black dress and leather jacket asked him. She was smiling, sipping on something that could be water, might be a vodka tonic. The lighting wasn't good enough to see bubbles.

"Not a fan of being hot," Gareth smiled.

"Awful confident of you."

Oh. Oh shit. Was she flirting with him?

"Trying something new tonight, I guess."

"Oh? Anything in particular?"

Gareth liked her smile, her eyes. She seemed a few years older than him, closer to Eddie's age.

"Well…I've never actually kissed anyone before," Gareth figured honesty was the best policy.

"Never?" She didn't believe him, but that was okay. She'd figure it out if she let him make a move.

"Never."

"Let's give it a go then."

So he did.

She leaned in, closed her eyes, and he was having his first kiss. He didn't know her name, he was surrounded by hundreds of people, and he was certain that stars were exploding behind his eyes.

She pulled away after a few seconds, smiling, winking, and walked away.

"Damn, she didn't even give you a name?" A guy to Gareth's left asked, watching as she walked away.

Gareth shook his head. "Didn't need it."

The guy touched his arm and smiled at him, much like the woman had before.

"I'm Evan. You're the drummer, right?"

"Sure am."

"You wanna have a kiss with someone you know the name of?" Evan asked.

Gareth wasn't about to pass up this opportunity, so he nodded.

When Evan kissed him, he saw fireworks.

Stars and fireworks.

"Wanna come outside?" Evan asked.

Gareth shook his head.

Firsts and seconds were enough for now.

[witchygagirlwrites]

Whose Shirt?

Gabby Dawson x Reader

You've been seeing Gabby for months. The problem? You're partners with Antonio and he has no idea.

“Gabby…love…sweetheart..Gabriela..DAMMIT DAWSON ANSWER YOUR PHONE” you growled, shaking your girlfriend. You swore she died when she slept at times and this morning was no different. She cracked one eye open at you “Who is it?” you fumbled for her phone and squinted at the too bright screen, a light laugh escaping you when you saw your partner’s name “It’s your brother..want me to answer?”

She snatched the phone from your hand with a grin. “Hello?” you halfway listened to her side of the conversation, letting your lips trail across her bare skin. You had to bite your lip to not laugh when she glared at you when you nipped at her neck. “You ok Gabby?” you heard Antonio ask over the phone and had to bury your face in her neck so he wouldn’t hear you laugh. “Yeah, just um just woke up”

Her fingers found your hair, teasing through the locks as she talked to him, from the sounds of it they were making plans to meet for breakfast over the weekend. When he finally hung up you cut your eyes up at her “I love Toni, I swear but sometimes he has shit timing”

She shook her head “Or maybe you both just have shit timing from years of being partners sweetheart” “Oh is that right baby?” you asked, letting one hand slip between her thighs, chuckling when she let her legs fall open “Looks like you like my timing just fine”

I love you you smiled at the text from Gabby and saw Antonio cut his eyes at you across the car. “What are you in such a good mood about?” you shrugged as you texted back I love you too “Maybe I just got a goodnight’s sleep”

He eyed your phone “And the goodnight’s sleep is texting you?” you laughed and slipped the phone into your jacket “Naw, my check just hit my account and I can swing that new tattoo I wanted” he shook his head with a laugh “You’re ridiculous at times I swear”

You grinned at him “And yet you wouldn’t have no one else as your partner” “Never in a million years” he agreed.

______________

You and Antonio had worked together before intelligence ever came into the picture, that was why Voight partnered you together. You knew each other like the back of your hand, could predict each other's movements. He was your best friend.

The issue was he had no idea that for the last eight months you'd been sharing his sister's bed. The first time was just a letting off steam situation, you and her both had come off bad breakups and weren't looking for anything. Then the second time happened then the third then you were together for months and you were in love with her before you realized it.

You both wanted to tell him but by this point it felt like you'd been hiding it from him and he would more than likely feel the same, especially since a daily occurrence was him teasing you about your “lack of love life”

A new game within the unit was trying to find your type. They knew you were bisexual and that meant the spectrum was broader but none of them knew the reason why they couldn't pin down your type was because it was your partner's sister.

“Earth to Y/N” Antonio whistled and you cut your eyes at him “What ya want Dawson?” He grinned “We're here” you had to talk to a suspect in a robbery, you just hoped the asshole didn't do anything stupid.

“I'm fine Antonio” you argued him but he shook his head “That asshole split your lip. If you won't go to med I'm dropping by fifty one and getting Gabby to look at it”

You tried to hide the panic in your eyes. “I don't need Gabby to look at it. It's not the first time I've been hit. I'm a five foot something female cop in one of the most active units in the city. I can handle it”

He leveled you with a look “Please partner? For my peace of mind?” You sighed “ok” you pulled your phone out and sent her a text I'm fine Hopefully she'd get the meaning.

____________

When he parked his car outside the firehouse Kelly looked up when the two of you got out and let out a low whistle “Damn sweetheart. What happened?” “Some asshole decided to hit her. Don't worry he got a broken nose and an assault on a police officer added onto him” Antonio answered.

You smiled “My dear overprotective partner refuses to take my word that I'm fine so he wants a medic to look at me” Kelly nodded “Gabbys inside” you waved a hand at Antonio “Lead the way”

You walked in behind Antonio and saw Gabbys eyes widen the moment she spotted you “What the hell Antonio? You let people beat on your partner now?” She said it teasing but you saw the anger in her eyes as she led you to a chair.

“Not his fault. I bobbed when I should've weaved” you joked and she glared at you. Luckily Chief Boden walked in and called Antonio over so the two of you were left alone while she looked over your face “I'm fine. That's all you say then walk in bleeding?”

You shrugged, cutting your eyes at Antonio “Not like he gave me a choice but to get checked out. Baby I'm ok. It was a weak punch” she shook her head with a small laugh “I swear you and him being partners is going to give me high blood pressure from worrying”

“How's she looking?” Antonio asked, walking back over. Gabby winked at you “I did all I could. I think we're gonna lose her” you shook your head “You damn Dawsons better be glad you're pretty and good at your jobs because your sense of humor sucks”

She raised an eyebrow and you knew you'd catch hell later for saying Antonio was pretty so you grinned to let her know you welcomed it. “See you around” she told you then looked at Antonio “Watch your partners back better”

“Gabby! The alarm didn't go off” you shook her arm and she cursed, slapping the clock off the side table “We need to buy a new one”

She threw the blanket off and the two of you started to run around the room, trying to get dressed and gather everything you both needed for the day.

You stopped at the door and pulled her into a kiss “I love you. I'll see you tonight” she smiled “I love you too”

You headed towards your car to make your way to the district and she headed towards her to head to the firehouse.

____________________

Antonio cut his eyes up at the clock again. He was beginning to worry. You were never late.

“Where's she at?” Erin asked and he shrugged “I don't know” about that time the gate at the bottom of the stairs popped and he heard your boots coming up along with your voice “I am so sorry. My freaking alarm clock died, I have had no coffee…”

He watched you make it to the top of the stairs, taking your jacket off as you went. The shirt you wore looked strikingly familiar. In fact he was fairly certain…”is that my sister's shirt?”

You froze in your tracks and looked down at your shirt. You hadn't grabbed one of yours, you grabbed out of Gabbys. “Um”

Jay busted out laughing “Holy crap…Antonio your partner is sleeping with your sister” you shot him a glare then looked back at Antonio “um I can explain”

He grabbed your elbow “Lets talk” and pulled you towards the break room.

You walked in first and turned to face him. He ran a hand down his face “How long?” “Consistently?” You asked and he groaned “I guess”

“Eight months?” “EIGHT MONTHS?” you flinched for the simple fact you didn't argue with him, ever. “Antonio before you freak out, just know that I love her, she loves me. We're happy. We wanted to tell you we just never found a good time then it turned into a month then six months then well..”

He took a deep breath “Well I guess I know now why we couldn't guess your type. I'm ok with it, I love you both just you didn't have to hide it and you're coming with us to anything we plan from here on out ok?” You grinned “Ok”

He shook his head “My partner and my sister. Good lord”

[admirationandromantics]

Confidently Unconfident

Oh my lord, had to take so many breaks while writing this (wink wink), but I tried to add as much as possible from the request. I made it a little my own as well, but take it however you like. If you're unsure about what it's about, just read the request. For context, the group is at the lodge, au where the game never happened. Again, as I've done in the past, my blog is 18+!! Just putting that out there. So please, enjoy the story guys <3

Word count: 1,8k (unedited)

Jessica and sesbian lex occupy 100% of my thoughts (ovulation hits hard, we all know) I haven't seen any stories from you with this wonderful girl yet, maybe this will be the first...anyways, I really like to imagine Jess as a bisexual, more inclined towards men, and I got the idea of ​​​​a little story of Jessica's first time with an experienced girl :) I think it should be super cute! btw i think she would often ask "what should i do know? how was it? does it feel good?", and it would be just adorable! also, I think it's worth adding that in sex with a woman, Jess seems to me in the bottom position, when with a man, I think she more often takes the top! So after reader notices Jessica's concern and nervousness, she will say "don't worry, let me guide you, I'll show you"... THAT'S IT -anon

“Hey, Jess, are you okay?” Emily asks her, nudging her. I look over as I notice she’s pulled away from her trance, eyes leaving me and going to Emily, trying to explain herself. 

I’ve noticed how she looks at me, stolen glances when she thinks I’m not looking, wondering how it would be. I’ll not lie, I have thought about it myself, and it doesn’t take a genius to understand that she goes both ways. She has always had this quality about her, being super flirty is one of them, but never with girls. It’s like she’s intimidated by us, scared we’ll hurt her if she makes her move, coming out of her shell. Sometimes, I even look back at her, making sure she knows I caught her red handed. 

At the last parties, both of us have made a couple of getaways. Making out in the hallway, or finding another secluded area. It never went further than that though, always something getting in the way. It could be Emily, who wanted us both to check her make-up, Ashley or Sam who wanted to tell me something. Even sometimes Mike, who oddly wanted to drunkenly meet up with Jess. Every time we’ve been together and heard his voice, I always see her eyes rolling, sick and tired of the games he’s playing. I guess she really is over that small crush she had. 

As she looks up again, I nudge my head in the direction of one of the guest rooms in the lodge, hoping she catches the idea. A small smile creeps up on her face, a little too noticeable. If only the others knew what I was thinking. 

“I’m going to the bathroom” I declare, getting up with a loud groan. I walk up the stairs, stopping at the top to make sure she follows. 

“Does anyone have a blue eyeliner I can borrow?” 

“I do!” Jess shouts back, getting on her feet and making her way up. Her bubbly and eager nature doesn’t alert anyone, as she normally loves putting makeup on people. That’s one of the reasons Emily always wants her help. 

I walk to the first guest room that comes up, which luckily is mine. To be sure she sees, I leave the door a tad bit open, looking at myself in the mirror and fixing my hair. I really should’ve made sure my makeup was on point, especially if I was planning on seeing her like this. I lick my thumb, trying to straighten out my brow, making it look a bit more put together. 

“You look stunning tonight” her voice sounds from the opening. It’s followed by the door shutting and the sound of the lock clicking. I turn, meeting her gaze as she walks slowly over. She’s wearing a light blue, square neck top. Not too much cleavage, but still a significant amount. I almost can’t take my eyes off her, the outfit composed perfectly, her hair in a bun on the back of her head, small strands of hair hanging in front of her face, making it obvious that she hurried on her way here. 

None of us waste time, collapsing in each other’s touch, my hands going to her cheek and back, while hers rest behind my neck and on my waist. Just her touch alone makes me giddy, her small fingertips grabbing the hem of my top, using it to pull me further into her. She moves us slowly, guiding me backwards until my legs hit the bed, making me fall down on the mattress. She smiles, getting down on top of me as I shuffle us both to the middle so we have room to move. 

“I know what you’ve been thinking” I whisper between kisses, making her gasp as I grope her thigh. 

“Oh, really?” 

“Yeah” 

“Tell me what I’ve been thinking about then” she teases, pushing my back down again. My eyes widen a bit, a small smile on my lips. I’m surprised by her forwardness, and her eagerness to take control. 

“You’ve been thinking about me fucking the shit out of you. Using my mouth on you till morning, when your body is so overstimulated you can barely get up” I drag her top off, revealing a beautiful light gray lace bra. 

“You’re making it hard for me to keep my composure” she whispers, letting me sit up so she can drag my top over my head, throwing it on the floor. “Well, isn’t that the point?” 

“It would be, if that was my plan” 

I smile, feeling her lips work their way down my jaw and neck. 

“Then tell me, what have you been imagining?” 

She smirks, biting her lip as she slowly unbuttons my pants, dragging the zipper down. 

“Your moans and whines, getting you off and making you come on my tongue while you scream my name” 

“Fuck, Jess…” 

“Mhm, keep saying my name like that and I might have to work a little on myself as well” 

I lean back, feeling her hands drag the denim down and off my feet. Fucking hell, I can already feel my heat pooling, craving her touch more than I’ve ever done before. I sit still, feeling my legs almost shake from anticipation. Her hands go to my inner thighs, feeling the soft skin, leaving kisses all over before hooking them over her shoulders. I wait for a couple of seconds, upper body rising a bit to see her. 

She’s sitting there, eyes closed and taking a deep breath. I watch, she still hasn't noticed that I’m sitting up. She looks stressed, unsure. I lift my legs off her shoulders, making her awake from her trance, looking at me worriedly. I sit completely up, taking her hands in mine. 

“Hey, is something wrong?” 

“N-no, I just. I’ve never done this before” she whispers, voice suddenly vulnerable, the previous confidence gone. 

“You’ve never had sex before?” 

“With a girl, I mean” she explains, looking up, guilt coating her features. I try my best to give a comforting smile, hand going to her cheek, hoping to calm her nerves. 

“We’ve all been there, it’s scary. And there’s no stress, we can wait, we don’t have to do it-” I start, but she interrupts me, shaking her head vigorously. 

“No! I want to do this, I do, right now. I’m just, a little unsure about the process” 

“Want me to guide you, or go down on you first? I promise you, I’m not expecting anything major the first time, one usually needs to get to know the other before things start to get easier” 

“Ugh, just you saying all of that makes me want to do you so much more!” she whines, head falling in my lap from disappointment. I laugh, bringing her head up again and leaving a kiss on her lips. 

“I know I act all confident and stuff, but this is all so new to me” 

“I understand, everything was new for someone once, I get why you’re frustrated” I whisper, pulling back slightly, letting our noses brush against each other, both of us breathing heavily. 

“And I just want to make you feel good” 

“You will” 

“You don’t know that”

“Of course I do, you’ve already made me a dripping mess, every touch you give me, all the time sparks shoots through me. You have literally no idea how down bad I am for you” 

“You are?” 

“I am” 

A small smile creeps up on her lips, that knowing confidence starting to find its way back. She pushes me down again, starting to kiss my thighs again. My breathing quickens, lips parting as she bites my flesh, causing a loud moan to interrupt her attack. She looks quickly up at me, noticing my heaving chest and flushed face. Safe and satisfied, she leans down again, sucking and biting, getting closer and closer to my heat. 

Her hand ghosts over the soaked fabric, making my legs twitch. Fingers hook the underwear, dragging the piece off, exposing me to the cold lodge air. She watches in awe, tracing the wetness, curious and inexperienced. I almost chuckle from her hesitation, lifting my head to see her tilting her head to the side. 

“You good, Jess?” 

“Oh! Yeah, yeah I am, so… What do I do now?” 

“Think of when you’re pleasuring yourself, or what you want someone to do to you, or if you’re not the type to figure stuff out, I can just tell you what I like right n- oh fuck!” I suddenly gasp, her tongue licking over my click, the surprising sensation sending shivers through my body. I grab the sheets, trying to control my legs, forcing them apart so as to not squish her head. 

“Mhm, does it feel good?” she whispers, her breath sending hot small vibrations on me, making me bulk my hips to her for more. 

“Y-Yes, please keep going” I plead, already feeling myself get breathless, pulse in the hundreds as my chest goes up and down rapidly. She continues, fingers making their way to my folds, stroking the lips. 

“Do you want me to?” 

“Yes, Jessica” I manage to whimper out, my voice weak and muttered. The sound alone makes her confidence rise, feeling her lips smirk against me. She continues, beginning to such my clit, causing a wave of moans to leave my throat. She pushes two of her thin fingers inside me, going as deep as she can, still stimulating my nerves with her mouth. My back arch, head being thrown back on the sheets as I try to contain my volume, afraid the others will hear. 

She pulls out her fingers, using the time to experiment with her mouth, sticking her tongue inside me, eating me out while rubbing my throbbing area. I can’t help the whimpers that escape me, each of her touches contributing to the tension-filled knot in my stomach. My core builds up, getting hotter as my mind fries, everything becoming blurry. 

“Am I doing good?” she asks, stopping for a bliss moment before continuing. I try to muster out words, as if the sounds coming out of me isn’t a big indication of the answer. 

“Y-you’re doing so well, y-yes” 

She keeps up her rhythm, several types of stimulations as I draw near the edge, legs shaking around her as she rests one of her hands on my stomach. I finish all over her, immense pleasure shooting through my body as I relax, letting her help me ride it out. She pushes herself up, laying down beside me, licking her fingers dry before making them walk up my stomach and chest. 

“So, how was it?” 

“Do I need to answer?” I ask, breathless while still being a bit brain-fucked. 

“Mhm, you do” 

“I-I, fuck, I did not expect you to make me come the first time” 

“I guess I’m a quick learner” she smiles, leaning over me and capturing my lips in hers.

[writing-by-night]

Seven Days to Christmas Countdown: Day 2

Pairing: Peggy Carter x Angie Martinelli

Prompt: Cartinelli - Peggy surprises Angie with her first proper Christmas in the modern world

Word Count - 1.2k

Peggy knows it hasn’t been easy for Angie since she came to the modern world. When the anomaly Howard and Whitney somehow created brought her and Angie to New York, albeit a century later, she was terrified too. Somehow, Steve’s alive here. She’s glad to have her friend back, but she wouldn’t date him, not now. Anyways, he and Sargent Barnes are finally together like they should have been if they’d been able

The first year they were here, Angie broke down crying when they were first shown a video of New York Pride and she’d finally told Peggy what she’d already suspected — she was lesbian. In the same breath, Peggy had confessed as well to liking more than one gender. Later, Steve had taught her the term bisexual — his identity, and now it seemed also hers

A few months after that, Angie had gotten tipsy with Wanda and come home to the little apartment near the Avengers Tower they’d gotten with the help of Howard’s son and confessed to being in love with Peggy. And Peggy? She adored Angie, and loved her. It hadn’t taken too long after that for two bedrooms to become one and the twin beds to be pushed together, then those beds to become one larger bed.

Peggy had retaken her job as SHIELD director, quickly fitting in. Angie had considered trying to act again but decided to take a break for the first time, keeping house for the two of them, as she called it, and finding friends amongst the Avengers — particularly Wanda, a young witch with a kind heart and soft accent who had been taken under the women’s wing.

Now, it was December, and neither woman had said anything about making plans to celebrate the holidays. Their apartment had a wreath on the door courtesy of Jenna Simmons, a sweet younger shield agent who Peggy had been surprised to discover somewhat idolized her. But besides that, it looked the same as always. Pointsettias on the mantle instead of the usual bouquet Peggy got for Angie maybe counted, but really they were barely counted, at least in her opinion.

So, while Angie was out shopping she did the only logical thing — she called the boys and asked them to pick up a tree while she got some decorations for it, quickly wrapping the lights in before her girlfriend arrived home. She set out the ornaments on the table along, moving to the kitchen to start some baking along with dinner

-

When she heard the door open, Peggy slipped out to the living room, smiling brightly with an apron tied over her clothes as she watched Angie slip in. It took the other woman a moment to notice as she kicked off her shoes and set the groceries on the side table.

“Darling,” Peggy greeted with a smile, stepping closer

Angie instantly lit up as always, hugging her tightly. “English! You’ve been cooking?”

“I have,” Peggy nodded with a warm smile. “Decided to make a surprise for my lovely girl”

It seemed that that was what helped Angie register her surroundings — the tree in the living room, the carols on the radio, the cookie sheets cycling through the oven to cool on the counter, and the decorations waiting to be put up. “Oh doll! You didn’t-”

“Oh, I did New York,” Peggy chuckled, pulling her further into the room. “I figured since we didn’t really have any plans, it would be nice”

Angie’s eyes were sparkling as she looked at the decorations, lifting them up for examination before she went towards the kitchen, surveying the dinner keeping warm and the cookies cooling. “You made cookies?”

“Of course I did darling, what would Christmas be without biscuits?”

“Biscuits? You and your British English,” Angie giggled, wrapping her arms around the taller woman’s neck.

“Well, I am a Brit,” she pointed out as she swept her girlfriend up

“Yeah yeah… now shut up and kiss me”

Peggy chuckled at that, setting Angie on a very small square of empty counter and kissing her soundly. “As my lady wishes”

Angie gasps softly and Peggy smirks proudly, kissing her nose before going back to cooking. “Pegs-”

“That is my name,”

“You can’t just kiss me like that and then stop,” she pouts, tapping her lips

“So… you’re asking me to ruin you?”

“N-no- I mean yes- but not right now? Just- more kisses please-?”

Peggy grins and returns happily, setting hands on her hips and kissing down Angie’s neck, nibbling at the sweet spots. “Absolutely, angel…”

-

In the morning, Peggy wakes up to find Angie sprawled over her, their bodies tangled together closely, as well her lover in clothes that clearly don’t belong to the smaller woman, the blankets cocooned around them.

It’s been too long since they’ve had a lazy morning, and Peggy is finding herself inclined to embrace it, reaching for her phone to order food while Angie sleeps.

Half an hour later, Angie blinks awake, warm eyes looking up with sleepy adoration.

“Pegs?” She yawns softly, cuddling in closer like a sleepy kitten

“Yes, darling?” Peggy’s hand cards through her hair, soothing and protective.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?”

That hurts Peggy’s heart, the fact that Angie’s assuming she cares more about work than her wi-girlfriend -just girlfriend!- and in hindsight… she’s been too busy

“No, love.” She kisses Angie’s hair, holding her close. “I’m taking off until after New Years.”

She hasn’t, not at all. She has the same leave as everyone around the holiday — three days around Christmas or half days for Hanukkah, various accommodations for whatever holidays are relevant. But oh well — she’s director. Well, co-director with Nicholas Fury and just above Maria Hill, but that just makes a better point. The world can wait

And based on how Angie lights up at the words, it’s the right choice

“Really? You’d do that for me?!”

“Of course I would New York. You’re my wife.” The word slips out before Peggy can catch it, too natural for her to notice at first

“You rea- wife?”

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit, shit.

She shouldn’t have said that. Right-?

“I’m so sorry- I didn’t mean to say-”

“-Margaret. Peggy, listen to me-” Angie’s eyes are bright with tears and now Peggy’s freaking out more until the next words come. “I want to marry you, too.”

Peggy freezes, holding her closer.

“You… you do?”

“Yes! Of course I do, you complete idiot!” she’s laughing now, holding Peggy’s face to kiss her

“Wait- does that mean-”

“Yes, if you want it to, English.”

Peggy blushes. “I have to admit… I wasn’t expecting or planning on this to propose…”

“So… you’ve thought about it?” Angie teases, deepening the blush

“Possibly..”

“What did you plan?”

She’s caught off guard by the question, but recovers quickly enough.

“Well… I would have taken you to a nice date first… maybe that bakery you like down by the tower. I’d have taken you on a drive then, rented some place away from it all.. proposed to you in a special place.” Without noticing, Peggy’s let her hand trail patterns over Angie’s back. “I’d find a place for us to be just us for a while”

Angie looks up with soft eyes, holding her lover’s face. “We can do that still… call it a pre-honeymoon.”

“So.. we’re engaged now?” Peggy’s eyes sparkle as she kisses Angie’s forehead.

“Yes, we are”

[zestyaahbutler]

any nsft headcanons on Walter/ or young adult Walter?

Nsfw Headcanons for Walter

MDNI 18+ ONLY 🔞

This is such an old ask and I'm not sure why I was so intimidated to answer. Whoopsies

FYI as the asker said, this is all young adult to old Walter. Don't be a goofy and go in my inbox asking for young Walter. No seriously you're gonna get blocked.

That being said, enjoy!!

--------------------------🧵----------------------------

While Walter acts as the Hellsing butler and is seen as polite, I reckon its different in the bedroom.

He grew up while serving Arthur Hellsing who is a known womanizer. His practices definetly rubbed off. As a vampire hunter, butler, and university student at one point, he would've barely had time to commit to a relationship. Prostitutes would've been a semi regular indulgence for him.

Hes likely had flings but they never last too long besides a few dates.

It was never a problem about whether he could pull, he's always been a handsome and charming man, it was how well he felt he could commit. He never wanted to ruin a relationship because he was far too busy and wasn't ready.

As for orientation, I personally see him as a closeted bisexual. Only because of the time period he grew up in, I don't think he would ever admit to himself that he found another man attractive in a romantic/lustful light.

With his partners he's typically a dom to account for the whole family butler role. Its not neccesarily that he dislikes his job, but it's mainly just taking control in a part of his life that he can't get in his work life.

How rough or unaccomodating he is really depends on his mood. He's capable of being a gentle dom who gives praise for how well his partner is pleasing him as he is with using them like a means to an end that only benefits him.

@aristocraticpeasantgirl once mentioned that he would be the type to being his partner tea with extra sugar for energy as aftercare. On the topic of that, he'd be great at serving his partner after the fact. If he's with someone then he definetly goes the extra mile to make sure they feel loved and comfortable afterwards.

It's common concensus among Walter simps that he would be one kinky mother fucker. But that man definetly knows he needs to make sure his partner's boundaries accommodate that. He always asks before doing and when trying something new, he eases his partner in. There is always a plan in case he oversteps. Yeah it's a bit of a joke that he is that formal even during love making but he aims to please even when he is the one on top.

Walter is a leg man for women bur definetly someone who enjoys good arms on a man. The girl doesn't neccesarily have to be slender or more on the plump side, he's all up for whatever his partner has as long as he gets to run his hands up their thighs. He mainly enjoys whenever his partners contrast his own slimmer physique. He's up for the more toned or plumper individual.

For him he loves it when his partners are either way shorter or taller than him.

As for kinks, BDSM, rope play, role play, knife play, wax play. I don't think there's anything he hasn't tried or atleast thought about. Doss he have ones he won't do, of course but relatively he's up for anything. He's a sadistic bastard. That being said, he'd let his partner take control if we're able to wear him down enough.

He enjoys the journey more than someone who only wants the destination. Foreplay is a must and he enjoys torturing his partner and making them beg.

👏LET👏IT👏BE👏KNOWN👏

This man still definetly would fuck in his older years. So you too, can yearn to grind this man's bones into dust. It becomes less pressing as he gets over but it doesn't mean the desire ever ceases. We literally see this dude do acrobatics at 69. He still has it in him to break someone else's back. He is definetly still healthy enough to still have a good libido. If anything, he likely regrets not being more impulsive when he was younger. If he lived as a vampire, he would definetly explore his more selfish desires more.

@hellogreyeyedathena has a great post for that.

Thank you for the ask! If anyone else has any specific headcanons they'd like for other characters, just ask! I'm bored and will someday get to them when I'm motivated enough.

[benwvatt]

links to all my heartstopper fics!

hello! I am a fanfiction author! please enjoy links to all my 7 heartstopper (nelspring) fics so far. they’re all hyperlinked up at the fic title.

all of my heartstopper fics can be found here

memories painted in much brighter ink (4.1K, rated G, set in canon + light angst and healing)

“Nelson!”

Nick groans.

“I heard you got a boyfriend.”

“So?” Nick responds, and then he wishes he’d had the heart to make up a better comeback.

“I -” Harry fumbles. “I’m… happy for you. I think it’s, er, good.”

Harry Greene realizes how awful he's been to Charlie and Nick, and he apologizes to them after some deep thought and realization about what an cruel person he's been.

i like you inconveniently, you’re bringing out my dopamine (1.5K, rated G, set in canon)

“I think that’s because you have inner beauty,” Nick murmurs softly. “It’s not just your looks.”

Charlie really tries not to, but he blushes madly. “Dammit, Nick. That was so - ugh, so ridiculously smooth. Are you sure you don’t have this spell, too? ‘Cause I think I’m getting attached to you.”

“Well, maybe your magic’s rubbing off on me.”

Nellie yawns, clearly bored by the boys. They’re too busy flirting to pay any attention to her. The sheer nerve! She is the most important thing in any 一 no, in every 一 room!

can’t keep this beating heart at bay (2.0K, rated G, canon divergence)

Charlie laughs. “Sorry - you were telling me about teaching?”

“Yeah, I really like it so far! I’m a third-year, so I started getting some actual fieldwork to do recently.” Nick kicks a stone by the side of the road. “Your brother’s cute.”

“...Just my brother?” Charlie catches Nick’s gaze.

“You-” this is a disaster. “Listen-” This is a bisexual disaster, specifically. “I think you’re cute too.”

In which Nick is Olly's French tutor, Charlie has a crush on Nick, and Olly is so tired of watching these disaster gays try to flirt.

retriever? I hardly know her! (2.2K, rated G, dog walker AU)

'Oh god, oh god, he’s wearing rainbow shoes. Is he gay, or just extremely unaware that gay people exist?'

So there’s this boy. Man?

Boy? Fellow? Gent?

Cute Park Guy™ is either a professional dog-walker or someone with a large, bumbling group of pets. This is probably his day job; he plays tug-of-war with leashes and chew toys and, from time to time, Nick’s heartstrings.

In which Charlie is always at the dog park with a group of dogs, Nick is there with Nellie, and they both pine after each other softly from across the field.

it’s all an epiphany (0.7K, rated G, canon + light angst)

“Hey, weirdo,” Charlie whispers. “Whatcha doin’?”

“Oh! Hi. Sorry.” Nick rolls over between the comforters, hair on his legs grainy against them. “Dozed off for maybe two hours.” He smooths the longest curls back from Charlie’s temples and kisses there.

“Nghhh, Niiiick, go back to bed. That’s not enough time.” And, after a pause: “Are you feeling okay about David’s birthday coming up?” Charlie asks.

In which Nick despises his brother, even if they're only arguing in his head, and he falls even more in love with his boyfriend.

you make my dreams crumb true (1.8K, rated T, canon + wedding planning fluff)

“Hey, do I get to smash cake in your face at the wedding?” Charlie asks. He tries a slice of raspberry, closest to him. “Wow.”

“Depends, do I get to do it to you?”

Charlie gazes over Nick slowly. “Uh - yeah!” He’d misheard that at first. ‘You can do stuff to me after, too,’ he considers, except this is a public place.

In which Nick and Charlie try to pick a wedding cake flavour and flirt madly the whole time. Late-twenties Nick, unfortunately, still thinks bubblegum is tasty.

it’s an extremely rushed love story (baby, just say yes) (1K, rated G, fake engagement)

Dear god, this plan with Tao had spun wildly out of control. “You’re-” Tara sat down very slowly. “Engaged.”

Nick pulled her into a bear hug across the sofa. “And all because of you two!”

Darcy settled into the couch cushions as if they would fall apart if they hit the cotton too quickly. “Right.”

To get revenge on Tara, Darcy, and Tao for setting them up on a blind date they didn't agree to, Nick and Charlie pretend they're sickeningly in love and engaged.

[youreacroftlara]

When the bell above the door chimes at ten to five, signalling a customer has just walked into the cafe, Ava is relieved that she finally has something to do.

She places the two bags of coffee beans she’d been trying to juggle – yes, she was that bored okay – back on their shelves and turns to face whoever has just entered the cafe.

Ava is not prepared, however, to come face to face with the prettiest woman she’s ever seen. Because shit, this is not just any old customer, ohhh no. The person who has walked through the door just so happens to be Ava’s secret customer crush.

Crush, yes, because even though she’s only served her, like, once – and Hans the other three times (not that she’s jealous or anything) - Ava’s pretty confident that she’s a little bit in love with this woman.

But can you blame her? She’s drop-dead gorgeous - her hair is perfectly tied back, enough so that it shows off her delicate jaw and under the glow of the cafe lights, her skin shimmers like caramel.

There’s a dusting of freckles on her cheeks and on the bridge of her nose that Ava wants to spend hours mapping. But the real kicker? It’s the woman’s big, beautiful hazel eyes that take up the entire room, the same ones that bore into Ava’s soul every time she asks for a flat white with oat milk.

Which is precisely what she orders when she reaches the counter Ava’s standing behind. “Good afternoon, please can I have a flat white?”

Did she forget to mention the woman is fucking British too? Like goddamn, Ava’s bisexual ass never stood a chance.

Ava flashes her a dazzling smile, praying it doesn’t come off as creepy or anything.

“Sure! You take it with oat milk, right?” she clarifies, which draws a look of surprise from the customer.

“Yes, with oat milk,” the woman nods, giving her a small but impressed smile that turns Ava’s insides into mush.

She wishes she knew her name, but the woman only seems to come into the cafe during the quieter hours. She’s never around for the morning rush when Hans instructs his baristas to ask customers for names so they can write them on the coffee cups… oh!

Ava’s a fucking genius. Why doesn’t she just ask the woman now under the pretence that she needs it for her order? Ha, this plan is foolproof!

She picks up one of the smaller takeout cups and a pen and pulls off the lid. “Can I take your name?” Ava asks, feeling smug with herself for thinking of such a clever idea.

The customer’s face turns into one of confusion. “My name?” she says slowly.

“Yeah, you know,” Ava explains, tapping the pen on the side of the cardboard. “For the cup.”

“Oh, okay” the woman replies, looking a little lost. She doesn’t reply straight away, and instead glances around the cafe with a raised brow.

At first, Ava isn’t sure why the woman is so confused by her request, but then it dawns on her. The cafe is completely empty, and Ava’s crush is the only customer here. It’s obvious that she wouldn’t need to take a name for an order when there's no one else in line. Ava mentally kicks herself for not considering this sooner.

Oh smooth, Ava, real smooth.

Her face feels hot, and there’s a moment when Ava considers backtracking and brushing off her previous request, but the woman finally speaks up before she gets a chance.

“It’s 'Beatrice,'" she offers kindly, her tone warm.

Ava is so shocked that the hot customer has actually decided to humor her request, that she nearly misses her name entirely. She clears her throat and reiterates. “ Beatrice ?”

“Yes,” Beatrice clarifies, looking far too amused about this whole situation.

Ava feels hot with embarrassment at her failed attempt at subtlety. "Right, Beatrice," she repeats, hastily scribbling the name onto the cup before affixing the lid. "Thanks for that…I’ll just, you know…go make your coffee!” She points to the machine behind her.

Ava turns to start preparing the order, but Beatrice calls back out to her before she gets a chance to make a start.

“Wait, don’t I need to pay first?”

Shit, yeah. God, how could she forget one of the most important parts of the customer journey?

Ava turns back round to face Beatrice and rings the register. “Oh…yeah ha! Silly me!”

Well, on a scale of one to ten on how flustered she’s feeling right now, Ava reckons she’s a solid eleven and a half. What is it with her and hot women? She can leap from buildings that are hundreds of feet in the air, or swing at speeds of up to sixty miles per hour, putting her body through countless g-forces, but when she tries to talk to one pretty girl, all her normal motor functions fly out of the window.

“That’ll be $5.50,” Ava stammers out once she’s finally put Beatrice’s order through the till. “Cash or Card?”

“Cash if that’s okay,” Beatrice pulls out her wallet and fishes out some dollar bills. She’s just about to hand them over when her eyes shoot open almost comically. “Oh my god,” she gasps. “You’re bleeding!”

——————

Or, the spider-man coffee shop au - read it all here!

[lokittystuckinatree]

Hi. I’m a bisexual and genderfluid (currently only MCU, but hoping to expand) Loki fan that makes content for Genderfluid MCU Loki cause the series writers are queer baiting double crossing cowards. I am also a diehard yet careful Sylki shipper who genuinely feels like a traitor for shipping Sylki at times. I often think I should abandon ship, but the ship has been a bright spot through some of the worst trauma of my life and personally resonates with me so deeply I do not believe I will be able to fully sever myself from it. Sylki is my otp. My conscience is fighting my heart, and has been for a while now.

A. I understand that while the romance is a brilliantly executed metaphor for healthy self love based in Loki’s own struggles with self loathing and self obsession, (and Sylvie’s to an extent,) between two characters who intentionally click and contrast very well, the romance as presented in canon has offensive elements such as contradicting Loki’s genderfluidity by making Sylvie the token woman variant, giving Sylvie AoA Loki’s broken horn, and not explicitly refuting the idea Loki, a presumably amab genderfluid person, would love Sylvie, their “female self,” based off narcissism and ‘autogynephilia,’ instead of sharing a soul, mutual understanding and similar trauma…as most Sylkis understand to be the case.

B. I acknowledge that these problematic tropes should never be ignored and must be changed, though they won’t be in canon. This infuriates me. I often ponder if even interacting with canon Sylki in a positive way betrays my other genderfluid peers who have genuine criticism with the series and the ship, but I have come to the conclusion the way I uniquely enjoy the ship is not harmful. I am willing to change my conclusion if necessary, and I have been trying to open up the conversation over the harmful parts of the show with other sylkis. So far, they have been very receptive and truly well meaning.

C. If you want something done right… do it yourself. So I took the mistakes the writers made and I fixed them my fucking self in fanon by showcasing MCU Loki’s genderfluidity in a respectful way, demanding headcanoning (amab?) androgynous girlflux she/they Sylvie, and writing the Sylki relationship as based in understanding and admiration of each other as individuals, not shallow love for themselves. Anything that gets added to insult next season will also be changed by me, if possible. To me, Sylvie Laufeydottir is a perfectly tailored and suited love interest for MCU Loki and a clever way of adapting Sylvie Lushton to the MCU (with the addition of more Loki traits as she is a Loki variant). Thus it is my personal belief she is too interesting of a character to scrap.

C. I am planning to raise hell when if the writers pull anymore transphobic bullshit next season… down to boycotting Marvel or going on strike or even leaving the ship if it gets bad enough. The last option would…break me. I have very little light in my life left, due to personal trauma I do not feel comfortable sharing, and Sylki and it’s community have genuinely been one of my last few comforts. If I truly I must jump ship for the good of others, I will try my hardest to brave the lonely sea.

D. I do not condone the mess we were given, I do not perpetuate it, and I am not responsible for the harm it causes. I am condemning the same problematic writing choices, and petitioning to change the same uncomfortable elements that Sylki antis do, just via a different approach. Instead of throwing the existing romance away, I fix what we were given, preserving the parts I liked and rejecting what was offensive. I am not anti Sylki altogether, and I am not pro Sylki altogether. I am a genuine critical thinker. My blog is Sylki as it should have been, not how it was.

💚

[write-and-buried]

Wanna Bet?

Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

Summary; An assistants assistant. that's all you are. so why does he keep looking at you like you're a banquet and he's starving

Word Count; ~6k

Content & Warnings; this is consensual filth. some illicit drug use (weed) oral sex (f!receiving), use of inanimate objects as sex toys, mentions of bisexual king Dieter, offers of money, spit kink, squirting, innocence kink, overstimulation, unprotected PinV sex, messy sex, anal play.

Author Note; I am a whore for this slut. um... happy oscar season I guess??

This work contains explicit adult content and is intended for audiences over the age of eighteen. By continuing to read you agree that you are 18 or older, have read the content and warnings and wish to proceed

Working as the assistant to an assistant was never boring. You followed Sharon around like a hummingbird, handing her things before she could ask for them, getting her coffee, and her client’s coffee and maybe having time for your own espresso. It was all part of the plan, the long plan, assistant, then assistant, then production, then lifelong career in Hollywood.

Days like this were the hardest. Sharon was screaming down the phone at you. Her orders were sharp, peppered with curse words as she directed you to find the number for the most discrete crime scene clean-up crew you could and then get your ass to set.

“I-is there, sorry, has there been a crime?” Your voice was shaky on the phone, balancing a cup tray of Sharon’s triple shot vanilla oat milk latte and the black coffee her client favoured.

“No, it’s just Dieter, trying to put me in an EARLY FUCKING GRAVE” she screamed, clearly directed at someone in the room with her. You heard the chuckle, distant and tinny as the line went dead.

It didn’t take a crime scene crew. You found a 30-minute housekeeping service and paid them double with an authorised cheque, pulling into the lot five minutes after they did. White shiny van spewing cleaning products into the parking space, three women in jumpsuits and a grin.

You stepped over the threshold and immediately could see why. Liquor stained almost every surface. There was whipped cream on the walls, chocolate sauce on the furniture, permanent marker signatures on a white couch. Sharon was in the bedroom, standing at the door to the on-site bathroom, shouting over the sound of a shower.

“They’re coming to film on set today for behind-the-scenes extras you hedonistic douchebag. You couldn’t have waited a day?”

Passing Sharon her coffee you looked around the bedroom, similarly trashed. You could see a tiny wastepaper basket, overflowing with used tissues and condoms, the sheets half pulled off the bed. Your eyes landed on the vibrator still tangled in the sheets and you felt your cheeks turn red as the shower switched off. There was some kind of harness, a dildo that seemed longer than was medically safe and electric yellow, the room smelling of artificial strawberry, the pump bottle of lube on the nightstand.

“But then sweet Sharon, how would I bed one of the reporters”

He emerged in a cloud of steam. His hair was curling around his ears, the ring glinting in the light as he stepped out of the bathroom in boxers and a tattered robe to boop Sharon’s nose with a grin.

“Oh, who… is… this?” His voice dropped an octave as he looked at you, eyes trailing slowly up your body. You felt like you were wearing lingerie, wrapped like a present for him with the way he was looking at you, instead of the ripped jeans and band tee.

“My assistant” Sharon said, delicately stepping in front of you, shooing you away with a hand gesture as she shoved an iPad under Dieter’s nose. You could feel his eyes lingering on you as you left.

He remained in the periphery for the next few months, always looking at you like you were the Craft Services table, something to pick over, consume with fervour. You mostly ignored him, ignored the clutch in your belly when he looked at you like you were a five-course meal, caught in a few jabs before Sharon stepped between you. It felt like she was keeping him away from you, but you were too scared of her rages to ask if she was.

*

You were like a little mouse. Skittering around his life in your ripped jeans and worn band t-shirts. He liked you. Liked the way you flushed when he looked at you. You couldn’t meet his eyes for longer than a half second before your cheeks darkened, your fingers trembled. He loved it.

Sharon warned him off you the minute he saw you, traced that delectable figure in a hungover fog. He received the standard lecture, cowed like a schoolboy as she ranted at him about how you were far too young for him (true), that sleeping with anything not nailed down was bad for his image (also true) and that you would never be interested in him anyway (definitely false)

She should have learned her lesson with Eric. Her last assistant, and that smug little grin when she introduced him, as if the fact that he was male was ever going to stop him. The look on her face when she’d woken him that morning, curled around Eric and still covered in body paint. Eric worked as a writer for another studio now, coming over every few months to smoke weed and play video games, jerk off white Dieter tongued his ass. He was a good man.

You were caught in his teeth. Clogging up brain space with that little giggle he heard from around the corner in his kitchen. Did you have a boyfriend? A girlfriend? Did you giggle like that when you came? How was he going to find out?

He just needed to wait. To lull Sharon into a false sense of security by not hovering around you like a hummingbird. Shoot you conspiratorial smiles from under his sunglasses as he lowers them on the bridge of his nose. Jerk off in the shower to the way you swing your hips when there is music playing.

*

It’s so late. There’s grit in your eyes and a tension in your shoulders as you make your way to his trailer. Just drop off the script pages and you’re done. You can go home, eat ramen, collapse into bed. It’s been a long week, right at the tail end of Oscar season. You’re proud, but exhausted. Sharon’s starting to murmur about you moving onto your own clients soon, six months in the business and you feel like you’ve finally proven yourself.

You can smell the weed before you knock on the door. How he’s still awake after a twelve hour shoot you don’t know, the idea that he would crash in his trailer rather than take advantage of the driver the studio offered to take him home is a mystery. He shouts for you to enter within a half second.

He’s sprawled out on the couch, an ornamental bong on the IKEA coffee table, a chacuterie board balanced on the edge. That bathrobe must be fused to his skin, you think idly, covered over by the makeup and wardrobe department in the early morning.

“Mr. Bravo? I have the pages for you for tomorrow”

“Dieter” he says, his voice syrupy and thick as he looks at you. You’ve gotten better at hiding your reactions, the quiver in your thighs at his voice. You still can’t meet his eyes, but given the way everyone fawns over him, you’re sure he thinks it’s normal.

“You have an early call time, so I’d suggest getting to bed”

“Sharon’s a bad influence on you little mouse” he says with a laugh, leaning forward to pack another bowl. “Stay a bit, you look exhausted. Want some food? Want a bowl?”

“No thank you”

“Want a redbull?” he grins, nodding towards the fridge. They’re a sponsor of the movie, and you’ve been shamelessly living on them for the last two weeks, clutching to the cans like they’re a lifeline. “Take one, I don’t drink it, they aren’t good for you”

That makes you laugh, a giggle erupting from your chest as you look around the trailer. There are empty liquor bottles, fast food wrappers, something you’re sure is cocaine residue on the counter.

“My body is a temple, baby” he says, joining you in a bark of laughter, relaxing back on the couch. “Check it – they sent me an advance copy”

It’s a nature documentary, HD underwater shots of schools of colourful fish, frolicking dolphins, a soothing narration.

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I asked for it. I’m an Oscar Winner, I get what I want”

You can’t suppress the shiver from that, tingles down your spine as you chance a look at him. He’s in underwear and that robe. He’s taken a shower from the day, his hair curling damp around his ears. It reminds you of the first time you saw him, and the first time he looked at you like that.

“Come on, little mouse. Have some food. They always send too much”

You find yourself nodding before you can stop yourself. Good sense robbed by exhaustion you grab a Redbull and perch as far from him as possible, crossing your ankles and grabbing a slice of cheese, some honey, some fruit. It’s ridiculously good, a groan of pleasure traps itself in your chest as you bite a strawberry.

You feel Dieter shift beside you. You can almost feel him looking at you, watching your lips as you lick a stray drop of honey from them. You sit for a while, eating the fruit from the edges of the plate, feeling your senses come back into focus with some caffeine and something in your stomach. He’s quiet, he doesn’t move. But you still feel like you’re in a cage with a tiger.

“Well, thank you Mr. Bravo, I really should be going” You stand, wiping your hands on your jeans as you reach for your bag.

“Wait” he says, sitting slightly more upright, running his hand across his jaw. It reminds you to schedule an appointment with his barber, it’s too scruffy. It looks messy, not deliberate.

“Can I make you cum?”

Its like a bucket of ice water over you, the shock constricting your lungs as you feel your whole body react to his words. It’s crude and startling, the way he says it casually, one arm slung over the back of the couch, his lips speared wide in a grin. You sputter for a second, trying to figure out an answer.

“P-probably not?” you answer, honest if a little too revealing and you purse your lips shut immediately.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.

“No-one ever has” you admit.

God, why. What did that Red Bull do to your brain, what cords were disconnected with the jolt of caffeine that made you say that without thinking of the consequences. You know the consequences. But you don’t move. You stand there, prey before a predator and wait, watch from the corner of your eye as the grin spreads slowly over his face.

“Bet I could”

It makes you clench. Its cockiness and arrogance and everything you should hate from someone like him. Older than you, with a lecherous grin and eyes that wander past your collarbones. He’s blatant and obvious and there’s no hint of malice in his gaze.

You scoff, trying to play off your reaction as incredulous disbelief. That you’re unaffected. That you require more delicate and gentle handling into a tempting subject. That you require seduction, not some horny rumpled stoner type offering an orgasm like he’s sharing his chips.

“Ten grand?” He says, raising his eyebrows. “Each?”

“What do you mean?”

“If I can’t make you cum, I’ll give you ten grand. Every time I try and fail”

“I’m not going to let you… dig around inside me like you’re exploring a cave Mr. Bravo”

He laughs, its rich and warm and slides down your skin like chocolate. You’re fighting your body now, resisting the urge to walk closer to him. There’s still a coffee table between you, you feel safer with furniture in the way. It seems to calm your itching skin. Your clothes suddenly feel too tight, you have the desire to take them off.

“God, who have you been with? Come on. I’ve been thinking about it for months little mouse. Can I try? Pretty please?” he flashes you an exaggerated look, sweet and sultry and begging. He still hasn’t moved from the couch.

“I don’t want to be paid”

“You can pay me. I’m worth it” That grin again, the one that makes you weak in the knees. “Or whatever you want. Come on, I want it even more now I know I’ll be the first one to get it.��

“I want that” You point, shaking finger towards the statue on his counter. The Oscar is so shiny it sparkles in the dim lighting, a dominating presence in the room. He’s had it a week and won’t let anyone touch it.

“You can have it. Go on, grab it”

It’s cool under your fingers, the smooth contours of it finely crafted up close. His name is engraved on the bottom in cursive print. You remember his speech from a few nights before, short and grateful, showing none of the cocky attitude on display.

“I’m not going to chase you little mouse. If you want it, you’ll have to come here”

Its four steps. Its an eternity. It’s enough space to change your mind, to leave without another word, another question. You know he’d let you. You’ve watched him from the corner of your eye, the way his hands never touch someone unless they nod approval, his frequent check ins before intimacy scenes on set. He shut down a whole production one day because an actress was cold, refused to shoot another second until they got heaters and blankets. He’s respectful, if not entirely without shame. You’ve watched him kiss wardrobe assistants at the door of this trailer, catering crews, models, extras. Everyone leaves with a smile.

“Sheets are fresh” he says quietly, as if reading where your thoughts are about to turn. “Change them everyday myself”

“You clean up after yourself” you say, dreamlike as you move to kneel next to him on the couch, the statue weighing heavy in your hand.

“Well, I like it messy. Come here”

His hand curls like smoke around your jaw, encouraging you closer to him. He smells like spearmint and weed and when he kisses you your head swims. His hand feels big on the back of your neck, rubbing a soothing rhythm down your pulse as he lets you settle into it, the feeling of his plush lips on yours, the gentle moulding of his mouth to yours, the suck of your bottom lip between his teeth.

He shifts, slowly, like a cat stalking its prey, to wrap arms around your back, pull you a little closer, his mouth turning a little more insistent. You find yourself laying back for him, a tangle of limbs as he tucks hair behind your ear, strokes down your jaw with thick fingers until you open your mouth for him, let him taste your tongue. He matches your whimper with a groan.

He licks down your neck with a smile, slowly working his lips over every exposed piece of skin. You’re rolling your hips without thinking, feeling the slip of your underwear as you reach for him, feel the soft warn fabric of that robe cover you both, the warmth of his bare chest.

“Open up” he says quietly, running his thumb over your bottom lip.

“W-why?” You ask, your voice cracking.

“Because I’m going to spit in your mouth. And I want to watch you swallow it. Is that okay?”

It’s the asking. It’s something so filthy and debauched phrased so politely, your pulse hammering in your chest as you clench, feeling damp between your legs as he traces the curve below your lip. You could have been fooled, that he was going to be gentle, be sweet and timid with you, treat you like something precious. But his gaze betrays the hunger in his gut as he looks at you, patiently waiting for you to obey.

Your mouth opens. He grins.

Dieter knows he has you when you moan before swallowing. That it’s going to be easy to make you fall apart. You’re already senselessly grinding against his thigh, letting out these little whimpers that are driving him insane. He should have taken something, stocked up on more Viagra before this, because its likely he’s going to blow his load the first time he feels your cunt grip him.

So be it. He’ll just get creative, because the way you’re squirming on his couch is making him fucking crazy, and he’s not willing to stop until you look as messy as he feels. You let him take your shirt of, unbutton your jeans and peel them free, leaving them in a dishevelled heap on the ground. Your cheeks flush when he studies you, those curves that have haunted him now under his hands.

Plain coloured bra, matching underwear. You look put together and perfect underneath him. He traces the curve of your hip with a burning desire to tear you apart. Your eyes are wide as you watch him, shimmering slightly with blown pupils and desire, you look almost nervous, as though that first display of debauchery has unlocked something in you, found a piece you didn’t know was hiding. He wants to unspool that thread.

There’s a wet spot on your underwear, and he can smell the sweet perfume of your arousal as he traces his fingers across the flat of your belly, nosing up your neck to taste your mouth. He wants your lips swollen, kiss bitten and shiny. He wants you covered in him actually, spit, cum, whatever he can, marking his territory like a beast.

“How do you want it little mouse?” He asks, running his finger along the hem of your bra. “Fingers, or mouth?”

God you’re so cute. You can’t meet his eye to answer the question, and he’s going to spend his time with you changing that. He wants to have you asking, no begging, for what you want, a gaping sloppy mess for him. But this hurdle first.

“um. I… I don’t…”

He kisses you to swallow the hesitation, yank the shame out from wherever its hiding and discard it as useless. It doesn’t have a place with him, you can ask him for anything, and he’ll give it to you. The Oscar statue is still held loosely in your grip as proof.

“I’ve been thinking about what you taste like” he says, running his hand up the back of your thigh. “Jerked myself half raw in the shower thinking about licking you open for me.”

Oh, that did something. Your back arches deliciously and he has a brief moment of knowing just how perfect you’re going to look seated on his cock. He feels himself leaking into his boxer shorts, knows he has a wet spot to match yours. But he has to ignore it, his dick is so much less interesting than the way you’re biting your bottom lip for him.

“We’ll start there then” he says with a grin, a quick nip of teeth to your neck.

God, you smell like heaven. All warm and sweet, like fresh blueberry pie, dusted with sugar. He pulls your underwear off, settles himself between your thighs and stares. Glistening wet and spreading open for him, like dew on a flower in the morning, he can’t help the growl that rumbles through his chest as he spreads you open, watches a drop of wetness appear and slide into your skin.

You’re frozen still. You can’t move, can’t breathe, with the way he’s looking at you. Beneath you’re skin you’re crawling, climbing the walls as he kisses the inside of your thigh. The sounds coming out of him are sinful, grunts and moaning as he mouths across your belly, runs his hands down your hips to soothe you, your legs relaxing further open as you wait.

He spreads you further open, that gaze, like you’re a banquet, amplified a thousand times as you watch his untamed curls disappear between your thighs, the heat of his breath on your opening, the depth of his inhale.

“Oh, little mouse” he breathes, sounding worshipful, a man at an altar. “Thank you for letting me try”

He softly sucks your clit at first. Just enough to make you moan, your back arching at the feeling of his soft lips encircling the hardened nub, tongue swirling gentle circles as you clutch the Oscar in a death grip, your hand flying to your mouth to muffle it.

“Fuck, fuck. You taste like heaven mouse.” He says, looking up at you with a grin. “Don’t be shy, let me hear.”

You nod, taking your hand away, fluttering it awkwardly, unsure of what to do. Dieter grabs your wrist, planting a kiss right over your pulse before it puts it on his head. He gives a wink, another grin.

“Don’t hold back for me, okay?”

You smile at him, grateful for the permission to actually relax, and when his mouth descends again, you do. You just let it take your senses, the flick of his tongue, the iron grip he has on your thigh, holding you down and open for him, the vibratory rumble of his mouth against you as he laps at the wetness like a stream. His mouth trails lower, tasting everywhere, lifting you higher, licking you lower.

“D-Dieter” you manage, as his mouth probes lower still.

“Oh fuck, I like that. Say it again” He pulls his mouth from you.

“Dieter” it makes you giggle, the goofy grin on his face as he bites his lip and nods.

He’s playful when he returns, smiling against your folds as you chant his name in a way that makes it feel so ridiculous, leaks the last of the tension from your body as he laughs along with you, smearing his mouth across you in a way that makes you tingle.

“That’s good little mouse. Now you’re all warmed up, are you ready?”

“Yes Dieter”

“Fuck I like that way too much” he groans, pressing his forehead into your stomach. “You just relax for me, okay”

He pulls you into his mouth, your ass hanging off the couch as he spreads you with his shoulder and really starts. It takes you half a second before you realise everything before was foreplay, was him getting you ready for this, a relentless assault on you, spreading you open with thick fingers, spearing you with his tongue as he moans hungrily into your skin.

You’re writhing against the grip he has on you, his tongue wide and flat as he licks you, hole to clit and back, circling and pulling back to spread you open and spit on you, watch the way you clench around it with a satisfied hum, pull your clit between his teeth and suck, relentless pressure, spiralling you out as you anchor yourself to reality with your hand in his hair, one fist gripped around the statue, warm now beneath your palm.

“Fuck, Dieter, fuck, oh my god”

He would grin, if he wasn’t so focused. He can feel it, the tension in your belly, string waiting to snap as mouths hungrily at your cunt. He wasn’t lying, you do taste like fucking heaven. He’s half rutting against the couch, his cock whining for friction as he pries you open further, raw and shiny with his spit, fluttering and clenching around his tongue. He’s half rabid for it – watching as you squeeze your eyes shut. Next time. Next one you’ll look at him, he’ll press his forehead right against yours and watch as you come undone.

It's glorious when you do, the breathy little shocked noise that proceeds the detonation, spilling sweet across his tongue with the arch of your spine, the sharp tug in his hair as you ride his face, chasing the rest of it, shuddering and shaking all at once as you say his name. He has to grip his cock through his boxers, so he doesn’t come on the spot.

He sinks two fingers deep inside you to feel the stretch around his fingers, the way you pulse and pull him deeper, the sound of it, sloppy and wet making him want to sink his teeth into you. He settles for resting his cheek on your thigh, watching as the colour fades from your skin, your shaky breaths in tandem with the curl of his fingers.

“Too much?” he asks idly, swiping upwards to watch your hips cant. You shake your head, biting at your lip as you try and ask for more, words failing. He knows anyway, licking your release from your thighs, the rolling of his knuckles inside you a pleasurable hum.

“I’m going to eat your ass now little mouse” he says.

And then he just does. No hesitation, holding you open to spit again and lick it up, the zing of electricity up your spine making you cry out as he pushes your legs back, folds you in half and spreads you open for his mouth, pressing and furling and sucking on the rim of you until you’re mewling his name, squirming desperately, for something, for anything.

“You need to be filled up” He says with a dark smile. He positions your hands to hold yourself open, humming idly at the sight, all your shame forgotten, your skin sweaty and warm. “Open”

He kisses you again, licking against your teeth while he gropes for something on the ground. You can feel his belly pressed against your cunt and you give in to the mad desire, rolling your hips against him as he presumably searches for a condom.

“You trust me?” he asks, looking at you with a smile. You nod, curious.

Your eyes go wide when he holds up the Oscar statue, sucking the head of it into his mouth in a way that makes you think of things you shouldn’t. Him on top of you, fucking into you, another man standing, feeding him cock, his eyes rolled back as he’s used…

Its warm when it breaches you. Unyielding and hard inside you as he works it in, slowly watching it twist, pulling it back and forth, sawing just the tip against your front walls.

“Dieter”

“Fuck baby, I know, this is better than winning the damn thing. I want you to cum on it for me, okay? Make it really belong to you”

It’s a stretch, its foreign and hard inside you, like nothing you’ve ever felt as he twists until he finds a spot that makes you cry out.

“There it is. You scream out if you need me to stop, okay?”

You nod, breathless, robbed of speech as he moves the statue inside you, just fast enough that you can hear the messy wet squelch of it, the raw vulnerability of your position as you hold yourself open and allow this to happen, want it to happen.

“Oh, it feels… oh” Your voice is broken, wrecked and high pitched as he moves faster, a pressure like you’ve never felt in your stomach. You can see the bulge of it in your belly, it makes you want to look away.

“Keep looking at me. Please?” He says half a whisper as you meet his eyes. “How does it feel”

“Good, it’s, oh it’s good… full, I feel so full”

“Oh, this is nothing, I’m gonna split you open in a minute, you’re gonna feel me in you for days baby. I just want to see this; I want to see what your face looks like when you cum”

Its sloppy, you feel loose and open as he fucks the statue into you faster, dripping more spit to smear messy across your clit as that feeling of fullness spreads to your extremities, every nerve exploding with it as you struggle to breathe, the intensity of his gaze on you as he thumbs your clit.

“There you go, I can see it, it’s coming yeah? You’re gonna come all over me aren’t you, get me all nice and wet, just like you. I’ll fuck you right after, split you open on my cock, you’re gonna love it, I want you to lose all that control for me, scream nice and loud for me, I wanna hear my name when you squirt all over my face little mouse.”

You can’t look away from him, you don’t even realise that he’s not moving anymore, that your hips are doing all the work, rutting into the statue and his finger alike chasing release that feels like a cliffs edge. He keeps running his mouth, spewing nasty filthy words at you and calling you beautiful in the same sentence, making you quiver and clench and yearn.

He pinches your clit, and you shatter. It’s an explosion, its nothing you’ve ever felt before, birth of the universe as he pulls the statue free and you gush all over him, just like he wanted, drenching that stupid robe and his face seconds before he puts his mouth on you again, drinking your release like man wanting to drown.

“Dieter, oh… oh my, Dieter… please” You’re a mess. Your muscles have stopped responding to commands, limp against the couch as he laps his fill of you, coming to share your flavour, licking it against your lips. You can feel him, pressed against your cunt, somehow still in his boxers, rutting against you. “Fuck me, please fuck me, please”

There it is, that’s what he wanted, he wanted you just like this, needy and desperate and wrung out before he sinks his cock into you. It’s a miracle he hasn’t cum yet, the way you burst across his senses like candy coated fireworks, clutch and claw and him. And now you’re asking, now you’re begging him to fuck you and he can’t get his underwear off fast enough. The wet slap of his cock against your folds makes him want to cum and he has to grip himself tight to make sure he doesn’t make goddamn fool of himself in seconds.

It's a stretch. He’s prepared you and its still a stretch, your legs wrapped around his waist as he breaches you, the blunt weeping tip hot and thick as your body yields to him. He swears under his breath, yanking down the cup of your bra to bite a nipple, making you arch and clench around him. He feels good. Heavy weight on you and in you, dragging against your walls deliciously as you tilt your hips to guide his way.

He kisses you, messy and hungry and moves. You’re so wrung out, so lost in the fog of him that you can’t do much but take it, feel him slide deep enough your back arches, your bodies slapping together as he grips the couch above you, hoists you higher on him and fucks you.

He’s good. He’s better than he has any right to be, slamming against a spot inside you that makes your body tremble, wrung out and pliant against his hands. He’s talking, you think, or maybe moaning, the noise a harmony to your own as he fucks faster, deeper, harder. His knees must be getting shredded by the carpet, but he doesn’t seem to notice, his gaze fixed on your face as your body climbs again shrill vibrations of pleasure through your system.

“Tell me” he snarls. “Tell me you’re going to cum on my cock.”

“Dieter. Dieter, I…” You can’t get the words out, choked in the back of your throat as he grips your jaw.

“Come on, say it. I want to hear it, Dieter, I’m going to cum. Dieter you’re going to make me cum. Please, I gotta hear it, you’re so fucking tight for me, I can feel your perfect cunt squeezing me baby, I’m gonna lose it, I’m gonna paint that perfect body with my cum, you’re gonna look so pretty all covered in me baby come on, cum for me, say it.”

“Dieter… Dieter, please, please I… gonna cum”

“Good fucking girl”

He slams into you, unhinged and breathless as he pulls back to watch where he disappears into you, gripping your hips hard enough you’re sure they’re going to bruise, your eyes not leaving his as he fucks you, wet and sloppy as you lose control on him again.

He pulls out, enough to slap his cock against your clit as you cum, soaking him again with a high-pitched whine. Your eyes are just focused enough to watch him, angrily fisting his cock as he watches your cunt clench around nothing.

He comes hard and slow. Spraying ropes of lava hot cum across your chest and belly, roaring your name as he wrings every drop from his body, shaking as he squeezes your thigh, the meat of your ass.

“Oh, you’re fucking perfect” he says, his lungs shaking with the effort to breathe in.

You look a mess. Hair wild and tangled, mascara clinging to your lashes from tears you don’t know you’ve shed, lips swollen and skin sweaty, painted with his cum. You look like a painting, an artwork, something he designed, and he comes down from that shaking high with a sense of peace settling deep in his stomach.

He has to taste your mouth again, see if it changes in the sweaty afterglow, if you’re just as sweet and pliant for him. Your nails scratch into his scalp, sending warm shivers down his spine as he collapses on top of you, smearing his cum across his own stomach, licking into your mouth.

“Dieter” you whisper after a few moments.

“Oh, I’m never going to get tired of hearing that” he says, burying his face in your neck to hold you even closer. “Sorry you lost”

That makes you laugh, that giggle that feels like sunshine on his cheeks as you keep stroking his hair, across his shoulders. He pulls back, tugging you upright as you protest weakly, allowing him to lift you into his arms.

“Where are we going?” You ask, happy to be carried, hopeful for a bed.

“Shower first, dirty girl”

“Me?” Your indignant squawk makes him laugh as he lifts you bridal style with ease, you slap weakly at his chest.

“Yes you, messy little mouse. We’re gonna get you all clean, lay you down on my nice sheets so we can mess them up again. I think I want to cum on your ass this time”

“You have a 6am call time, you can’t”

He laughs, that same smooth rich feeling rippling over you like water.

“Wanna bet?”

[adarafaelbarba]

Request for the smutty one liners, please! 😘

“Your shirt got a little dirty, how about we take it off?”

With ADA Barba 😁😏🥰

Thank you!

Smut under cut 😏 Hope you like 💋

You eyes went from the stain on his shirt to his face.

«I don’t have another one here.»

«Well good thing I keep one neatly folded in my drawer just in case, sir.»

A groan left his lips, «You’re a life saver.» He went on to start on his buttons before you stopped him.

«Let me, sir.» You hoped it sounded how you had planned it. Your eyes never left his as you unbuttoned it.

And soon enough he got it, a little light going off in his head as he, «Oh…», his bottom lip caught between his teeth. «Ms. Y/l/n--are you trying to be unprofessional at work?»

«Me, unprofessional? Never sir.»

«Come on now. We both know what you’re trying to do here.»

Lifting yourself up on your toes, you finally kissed him, having wanted to since you first started working for him.

Rafael’s arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close as he kissed you back, his tongue pushing its way into your mouth.

Finishing the buttons on his shirt you pushed it off his shoulder, breaking his hold on you.

«Tell me what you want, cariño.»

Your lips went down his neck, nipping at the skin there.

«You.»

He didn’t have time to respond as you started kissing down his body, moving his undershirt so to mark his skin.

«H—how do you want—me?»

«In my mouth.»

«Anyone—could walk in—on us!»

Rolling your eyes you let him run to lock the door.

As soon as he was back you grabbed his belt, quickly unbuckling him.

He was freed moments later, and the sight of his cock right in your face was enough for desire to pool deep inside you.

«Are you second guessing?» He asked, a little breathless.

«No. I want this, I just—fuck, you’re big.»

His laughter dies as you give him an experimental lick from base to head before taking him into your mouth completely.

You just couldn’t get enough of how he tasted.

Rafael struggled to find words, and stood there, his hands clenching and unclenching as you dragged him closer to his release.

«Stop—»

You looked up at him, letting him drop out of your mouth, but rubbing him instead, «What’s wrong sir?»

«Don’t want to cum in your mouth.»

«I swear if you don’t I’ll burst—»

His eyes widened at that, and he asked if you were being serious.

«Let me taste you, sir, all of you.»

The way you said it had him gasp, but he agreed, and you took him back in your mouth to finish him off.

With a final suck, he came down your throat, a loud moan erupting from him. You grabbed his twitching hands and placed them on your head, looking up at him as if to say ‘fuck my face’.

And he did, using your mouth to get through his release, praising you as he did.

Once he went soft you let him drop from your mouth. You wiped your lips, looking up at him.

«Fuck, that was—something else, y/n.» Rafael helped you off the floor, pulling you in for a kiss. «Let me repay you later.»

«Sounds perfect.»

~~~

Tagging: @thatesqcrush @storiesofsvu @plaidbooks @beccabarba @itsjustmyfantasyroom @detective-giggles @appletreesinwinter @misscharlielulu @cycat4077 @alwaysachorusgirl @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @bisexual-dreamer02 @xoxabs88xox @beatrice-san @meetmeatyourworst @bullet-prooflove

[trashywritestrash]

Boyfriend

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x reader

Word Count: 1.1k+

Warnings: FxF, reader cheats on boyfriend, no real smut but detailed mentions of it, reader and Natasha fit the same size clothing, sexy kissing, a couple swear words, bisexual reader, Natasha is sexy, 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI, not proof read

A/N: My inspiration is obvious but the song is sexy so can you blame me? 😏 This is my lil gift to y’all for getting me to my next follower milestone

gif by chunkyfunkygal

Natasha’s stuck behind the bar, watching you out of the corner of her eye. This is what she’s done all night so far; watch you like a predator stalking it’s prey. And there you sit, completely unaware.

Just when she’s about to back off, Natasha spots her chance to strike. Your boyfriend of seven months decides to call it a night, leaving you at this party by yourself. Well, not totally by yourself. Because moments after he leaves, Natasha swoops in.

“Michael’s heading out?” She asks casually, setting a drink for you on the countertop. Your favorite.

You nod, giving her a small smile. “Yeah, he’s gotta be up early tomorrow. I’m not ready to go though.”

“So what will you do here all alone?” Her voice is smooth and seductive. You wonder if Natasha’s aware of the effect that voice has. You’re sure she is.

“Text a little, talk a little, drink a lot.” You laugh but you both know it’s not a joke. If you’re honest with yourself, you didn’t stay because you wanted to party. You stayed because you felt a pull. Towards what, you weren’t sure, but you knew that in order to find out, you needed to stay.

Natasha tilts her head the slightest bit, her little smirk never leaving her lips. “But everyone else is dancing. Do you really plan to sit here instead?”

You shrug. “I don’t have anyone to dance with.”

‘Bingo’, Natasha thinks. “Well, we can fix that.” She steps out from behind the bar and grabs your wrist, gently pulling you to the dance floor, leaving no room for argument. Not that you would.

Out on the dance floor, everyone stands close, bodies grinding and swaying to the beat of the music blasting through the speakers. Natasha pulls you close— maybe too close for two women who are just friends. But again, you don’t mind. The pull returns and you smirk, getting a good idea of what’s going on here. And it’s so fucking wrong, but it feels so right. Natasha’s hands stay on you and the two of you dance. Like she wants to hold onto you forever and never let go, selfishly keeping you all to herself.

She leans in closer so you can hear her speak over the sound of the music, her breath tickling the outside of your ear. “Michael does this a lot, doesn’t he?” Natasha probes, knowing the answer already. At every Stark party, every night out with the team, every event, Michael leaves early. The only time he doesn’t leave early is when he doesn’t show at all.

“Unfortunately yes. I think these things just tire him out; being around all these people.”

“He seems tired a lot. And forgetful.”

You frown. Was it that obvious? For the past few months it’s seemed like he forgot everything. He forgot dates and anniversaries. Hell, he forgot your birthday. But you forgave him. You always forgave him.

“Why do you put up with him? You could find someone better.” Natasha purrs right against your ear, her lips tickling the skin there. “I could do it better.”

Your breath gets caught in your throat as Natasha softly presses her lips just below your ear, trailing them down your jaw and down to your neck. The kisses are light and you could easily pull away if you wanted to. You don’t.

“Fuck.” You whimper breathlessly, wrapped around Natasha’s finger before she’s even done anything of real consequence. 

Natasha’s kisses become stronger. She is still gentle with you, but everything feels more solid and less like a whisper of what could happen. “I’d remember shit. I wouldn’t leave you alone at parties. I could keep up with you, in every way imaginable.” Natasha isn’t trying to sell you the idea, she’s stating facts. Michael is failing at being a boyfriend. She could do it so much better than he is. You just have to give her the chance to prove it. “Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll stop. I’ll leave you alone just like he did, but only if you want me to.”

Your head rolls back, giving Natasha better access to your neck. “God, please don’t stop.”

That’s all she needs to hear. She was holding herself back before, but now that she has you, she’s going to show you why you should stay with her. Natasha harshly presses her lips against your collarbone, sucking on the spot. You can’t see it, but you can feel the vacuum and the tiniest bursting sensations, and you know she’s leaving a subtle hickey. Marking her territory in a way that only the two of you will know. Even in the middle of the dance floor, you’re in your own private world. Before it can go too far, Natasha grabs your wrist once more, leading you away from the party. Once the two of you are further away, she asks “Do you want to keep going?”

You don’t need any time to think about your answer before it comes out as an eager whisper. “Yes.” With her hand around your wrist, Natasha pulls you to the elevator.

—————

Waking up in Natasha’s bed doesn’t bring the guilt that you thought it would. You thought you’d regret it, that you’d look at her and think of Michael and how worried he must be. But when you look over at her sleeping figure, all you think of is how gorgeous she is. How soft her skin felt against yours, how good it was to run your hands through her hair, gripping it in pleasure. Her moans and the words she spoke against your lips and between your legs. The hours you spent exploring each others bodies, taking your time ensuring that you saw and felt every single part.

Reluctantly standing, carefully avoiding waking Natasha in the process, you reach for your phone. Good thing you keep a charger in your purse, since you didn’t go home last night. No messages from Michael. You sigh, but you don’t know whether it’s out of disappointment or relief. 

You decide that you might as well make breakfast for the two of you, since Michael obviously isn’t missing you right now. You grab a random shirt off the floor, not checking it first. Once it’s slipped over your head, you catch your reflection in the mirror. This is Natasha’s shirt, not yours, but it fits. It brings a pleased smile to your lips. Not only does the shirt fit, but Natasha fits too. Better than Michael ever did. She was right; she could do it better than him.

—————

If you enjoyed this or would like to read more of my work, please consider liking, reblogging, or tipping my Ko-fi!

[ragnarachael]

kinktober — day seven; roleplaying with loki

paring: loki x reader

warnings: fingering,,, loki eating pussy again, not very graphic description of squirting. listen, it’s apparent i may just love writing loki eating you out. it’s the bisexual in me.

notes: i decided fuck it we’re keeping the same roleplay idea. so a rockstar situation have at it besties

kinktober tag list: @theaudacitytowrite @user8292 @itsz-justea @marvelsmysterywoman @stardust-galaxies @milly-louise @geeky-politics-46​ @lanablakee​ @thinkingth0ts​ @minssmutblog​ @abasiclokiwhore​ 

kinktober masterlist | feedback | kinktober taglist is here! fill this out to be apart of it!

"Y’know,” you hum, holding the neck of your beer bottle loosely as you lounge on the dressing room couch. “I’ve heard guitarists finger faster. That true?”

Loki’s laugh reverberates through the room as he continues wiping the sweat off his face with a towel, dark green polish shining in the shitty lighting the small venue had in the rooms. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I would, actually,” you chirp, taking a swig of beer. “You did ask your bodyguards to grab me, so I can only assume it’s for that. I don’t have much luck with attractive men in bands.”

He’s laughing again as you shift in your position. Your legs move to swing over the edge of the couch to plant your feet firm on the ground before you’re letting your legs fall open. Your skirt’s trying it’s best to hide the green lace you’ve worn specifically for this occasion. You’re just waiting for Loki to turn around at the right moment—

You never knew how pretty Loki could look staring at you completely dumbfounded with your legs open on a random couch.

“I was hoping for a bit more talking before this,” he rasps, tight black shirt peeling from his body before he’s making large strides with those lanky legs over to where your legs are spread open over the couch’s edge. “But, it looks like you’re more than eager to find out just how fast I can be.”

His hands land on your plush thighs, spreading them even wider so your skirt is riding up higher and higher to expose the small piece of fabric covering your cunt. 

“Please,” you breathe softly, shifting your hips a bit to angle your cunt perfectly for Loki. “I didn’t wear the green thong for nothing.”

Loki’s heady laugh graviates between your legs, closer and closer to the quickly dampening fabric. “You seem to have this planned out to a T, my dear.”

“’Course I do, not everyday you fuck a rockstar,” you tease. “Let’s see just how fast those fingers are, shall we?”

“We shall.” Loki’s smirk is the last thing you end up seeing before he’s instantly curled his fingers into the lace fabric of your thong, tugging it away from your folds and promptly burying his face between your legs to take your clit between his lips.

You’re already moaning loud, your head falling back against the wall. Your hand find where Loki’s is holding the thong away, taking the job over for him to have his full attention on your cunt.

“How helpful of you,” Loki muses, barely pulling away from your clit. The puff of air he lets out against your pussy makes your hips buck forward into his face, your folds brushing against his chin. “You’re so needy after talking about my fingers, christ.”

“Get on with it,” you whine, shimmying slightly. The two of you didn’t have much time left in this dressing room.

“Okay, okay,” Loki chuckles, diving back onto your clit as his newly free hand starts to trace your hole to tease you. You buck your hips into his face again, groaning at the slide against his face.

Thankfully, you found out, guitarists do in fact finger faster than most.

You found out twice, ruining the couch in the progress, actually. And Loki’s get up.

“Fuck, fuck, Loki!” You squeal, hand nestled deep into his hair as his lips suck on your collar bones, the loud and fast sounds coming from where his hand was jackhammering in and out of you nearly drowned out. You tensed your body, feeling Loki’s other hand brush against your clit before you were literally gushing against Loki’s hands.

You collapse against the couch, limp from the second powerful orgasm in a row, Loki’s hands slowly stopping their movement before he’s keeping his position. He’s hovering over you, covering most of you if anyone were to barge in and ruin the moment.

He pressed his forehead against your sweaty one, and you laugh breathlessly, your nose nuding against Loki’s. And soon enough, he’s laughing with you.

“How’s that for spicing up your life?”

“It was great,” you reply. “Though, Stark’s probably going to kill us for the charges for cleaning this couch, rockstar.”

“I’d say it was worth it, I didn’t think you’d be this worked up over seeing me fake playing the guitar.”

[litterateur97]

Can you hit me with the cute/fluffy Lawmane headcanons? 👀

Ah I don't have many headcanons that are cute and fluffy as I mostly ship them in a very sexual and unhealthy way, but I'll name some for you!

In Canon

L picks on Misa because she's cute, but also a serial killer and he doesn't know how to cope with his attraction to her. He's mean to her to push her away and to punish her for making him feel something towards her. He's only ever nice to her to get what he wants from her and use her to his advantage, but I think there is a small sliver of truth in his compliments of her that he won't admit to himself, and definitely won't admit to others.

He was lying when he said he was a fan of her work, he wasn't initially a fan, but he did look into her work for the case and was surprised by what a talented model she was. He definitely kept her magazines because he thought she was hot.

He also thinks she's a talented actress, and mostly uses this to his advantage for the case, but it also makes him cautious of her and is why he doesn't try to stay close to her like he does Light. He simultaneously overestimates and underestimates her. He locks her up in a more intense way because he sees her as a major threat at first (and also probably because of his repressed sexual desires tbh). He knows she's planning something before she goes to meet Higuchi, but doesn't say anything because he thinks her plans will serve him well, but also sees her as very impulsive (dangerous) and thinks it's better to react to her than act with her. At the same time, he still does just see her as a pawn in the battle between him and Light and doesn't use her to his advantage as much as he could have.

L leans in close to Misa all the time because of his desire for her, but he's very oblivious to the fact that he does it so much and only notices when she pulls away. He justifies it by saying he was purposely trying to put her on edge so she would slip up during questioning.

Misa found L attractive in their first meeting. She calls him unique, which I think others thought that was her nice way of saying ugly, but one thing we know about Misa with all her gothic obsession is that she actually likes things that are different. She also wouldn't straightforwardly compliment his looks because she's dating Light and knowing how she thinks, she'd probably see that as a form of cheating.

Misa knew L was the one who touched her butt, but didn't want to cause a scene and embarrass him, so she laughed it off. I'm not sure if this actually bothered her or not, she may have seen this as normal behavior from men, but it's probably one of the reasons why she continues to see him as a pervert and call him one despite not knowing he was the one who locked her up in the fetishy way.

I think Misa calling him a pervert and questioning his relationship with Light is actually because she sees through him better than others and is able to pick up on his sexual orientation (I believe he is bisexual). Misa is more socially intelligent and much better at picking up on body language than the others (she could immediately tell that Light wasn't into her, that's why she agreed to being used and hoped he'd eventually fall in love with her). So she can tell L is attracted to her, but also notices his tension with Light and believes he's attracted to Light as well (at least sexually).

Misa thought L was going to try to break her and Light up, so when he compliments her and says she's meant to be with Light, she decides she was wrong about his intentions and agrees to be his friend. I think she genuinely liked L after this, she's even nicer to him after this happens, but Kira and her relationship with Light is her first priority so she of course doesn't have any qualms about killing him to get what she wants.

If L had realized what an advantage Misa could be to him, he would have attempted to seduce her and it would have worked if he had played into her insecurities with her relationship with Light and showed her he could treat her better. I think Misa could have genuinely fallen for him and he may have eventually grown to love her back depending on how their relationship played out. I think it would have been similar to how @gigantomachy1916 has written her story Oleander.

If Misa had met L first, I think she would have fallen in love with him instead of Light. She needed something to cling onto after the death of her family, and would've reached out for something larger than herself that could give her the sense of protection and justice she was missing. Surely a God would give her that, but the world's greatest detective could give her that too. I think it would play out similarly to how I've written my story Death Note: A Slightly Different Note.

Well this actually ended up being way longer than I thought it would be lmao. It wasn't even that cute or fluffy, so sorry about that. I will write another post on this one that shows my cute/fluffy headcanons for them in fanon.

[booksrbetterthanpeople]

Just doing something over here, casually tagging @nerd-chocolate and @razrrosamond

Welcome to the Shorties Host Club!

Your hosts this evening are Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Alix Kubdel, Cosette Bellamy, Raelynn Rococo, and Ismael Prisk, and Rose Lavillant

Nath is the unquestioned benevolent dictator

They all cosplay. Constantly.

Alix is everyone’s impulse control

No one knows how the club was started. It just appeared out of nowhere

Cosette is the chaotic bisexual, always tempting people into doing something crazy for the sheer thrill of it. It drives their guests crazy

Nathaniel is the disaster bisexual who can barely say two words to a cute person before blushing and hiding behind his sweater paws. The guests just eat it up

Alix and Ismael are the “unattainables,” meaning they flirt, but brush off anyone trying to flirt with them

Raelynn is that one short minding her own business, just dressing nice as her hair blows in the wind and doesn’t seem to notice a dozen guests staring at her in awe

Rose is the sweet bisexual and is always braiding guests’ hair or holding their hands

One day while planning their next event, Maël Chevalier, a transfer student somehow finds his way into their base of operations. (The art classroom) He seems like an average height person and of course, the Shorties Host Club tries to flirt with him

… Oh, but he breaks a fancy vase, so… His soul belongs to the club now. Now he’s their errand boy

While explaining to Maël his duties, Raelynn notices he’s having some trouble balancing. Almost like..:

Rose realizes next when Maël looks so cute holding her stuffed unicorn. No tall person can look that cute and innocent…

Ismael and Alix are third and fourth when they notice Maël’s shoes, specifically the soles…

Cosette is fifth when she realizes how light Maël is when picking him up and pulling him away from some clingy girl who wouldn’t take “no” for an answer…

And then finally… Nathaniel sees Maël’s true height without his shoes…

Shorties Club Meeting!

Nathaniel: So… We’re definitely keeping him.

Cosette: Hell yeah! We need fresh faces!

Ismael: I don’t like him.

Alix: What? You’re jealous he’s cuter than you?

Ismael: You shut your sassy mouth!

Rose: But Ismael, this can be how he repays us for the vase.

Ismael: But I like having an errand boy. I feel like a big shot.

Raelynn: I’m just wondering why he felt the need to be average height; he’s adorable!

Nathaniel: Hmm… Find the school he went to.

So, turns out Maël’s ex always treated him like an object, literally and metaphorically talked down to him, and picked him up without consent just to show who’s in charge

He wears the shoes because he’s insecure and afraid of people treating him the same as his ex

… Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. If anything, the shorties are running things around here. They make a shit ton of money by making tall people blush