#inglorious basterds fanfic

[allloudontheeasternfront]

Everything at Once part 3

Dieter Hellstrom x Original Fem Character

(I apologize if this fanfic is dumb, I've wanted to make one for a while but never gotten around to it. Again, English is not my first language, so I apologize for the grammatical errors and the some parts that make no sense. Also thank you for the support! ♡♡)

Warnings: cursing, N*zis, discrimination, dieter is smittennnn, flirting, smut in the future, violence and angst in the future. I do not support N*zis in any shape or form!

I'm sick of translating so everything is in English now. 😘

(not my gif)

.

A week later, Dieter found himself thinking of the French baker. He can still taste her coffee on his tounge and feel her fingers accidentally touching his. He wondered how those fingers would feel on other parts of his skin. The thought sent shivers down his spine.

He felt absolutely horrible about snapping at her for no reason. Her startled expression made his heart sink more and more.

BRRRRRIIIIIIING

His alarm clock buzzed. 5 o'clock.

"Shut up" he grumbled trying to turn off the damn thing.

BRRRIIIIIIING

He fumbled it in his hands for a minutes, eventually throwing across the room, hitting the wall. It broke.

"Shit." Dieter mumbled.

He looked over at the calendar. Sunday. Rest day... finally.

After getting ready for the day, he decided the walk around the city.

There was no one out, due to church goers and the ungodly hour.

There was something peaceful about walking the streets of Paris alone, but also strange

Isnt Paris the City of Love? Where is his love?

He made it to Camille's bakery and stopped the entrance. The door was blue and the windows blue floral drapes were closed.

He looked up at the apartment above the establishment and saw the window was open and the white lace drapes were softly blowing in the wind. Suddenly, a young woman appeared in a cream colored nightdress and leaned over the black metal balcony.

Dieter panicked slightly, and hid in the small alleyway around the corner; he could still see the woman.

It was the waitress.

The stupid waitress....

He watched her for a moment, basking in her beauty and she smoked her cigarette on the balcony.

The sight was almost too perfect.

Her golden curls were loose around her shoulders and her nightdress had the perfect sheerness that he could almost see her silhouette.

Dieter realized he was watching her for too long when that beautiful face saw his...

Shit

Camille gasped so hard she nearly choked on the cigarette smoke. She ran back inside clutching her chest, hoping he didnt see anything. Oh, but he did and he will never forget.

Dieter mentally kicked himself for being a peeping tom.

"Now my reputation is even worse now." He thought to himself as he trudged back to his flat.

When back home, he poured himself a glass of whiskey and sat on the sofa.

He drank his sorrows and embarrassment that night never not thinking of that stupid waitress.

.

The next evening, Camille was cleaning up the cafe, wiping down the counter, cleaning the dishes, and now he least favourite...mopping the floor.

Some idiot German officer's wife let her child throw a God awful fit and tossed a perfectly made hot chocolate to the ground.

Camille groaned and cringed when realizing the floor has been stained.

Small tears prickled in the corners of her eyes. That morning, she got a letter from the landowner stating if she doesnt make anymore money in the following week, her cafe will be shut down.

Out of a fit of rage and exhaustion, she threw her favourite vase full of flowers to the ground.

I'll never make as much as they want....I'll never make the bare minimum anyways...

Without notice, a pair of black leather boots came into view as she looked up from her fit on the ground.

Her eyes traveled upwards the black clad legs, to a long thick leather jacket and a swastika on a red cuff.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, sir. What would you like?" Camille panicked, not meeting the eyes of the officer.

"Nothing miss..." the voice spoke. She looked up and saw the face of the pale man...

She opened her mouth to speak but he beat her to it.

"Your flowers are on the ground." Dieter said plainly.

Camille giggled softly.

He cracked a small smile. "Need new ones?"

She looked up at him again in confusion. Then, he moved his hands behind his back and presented the bouquet. It was multicolored with different roses, lilacs, and baby's breath. It was beautiful.

She smiled and took the bouquet from him.

"I dont know your favourite colour, so I got all of them." He said proudly. Camille laughed and took a smell of the flowers.

"Merci... but why did you get me flowers?"

Dieter's face went red as a tomato.

"I felt sorry for bring rude the other day and spying on you. Trust me, it was not my intention. "

Camille rolled her eyes playfully and looked directly into his eyes. "Isnt that your job, to spy?"

He chuckled softly and shrugged his shoulders.

They shared this peaceful beautiful moment together a little longer. He plucked a small flower from the bouquet and but it behind Camilles ear.

"Would you like some help with cleaning?" He asked without taking his eyes off of her.

She felt droopy, relaxed finally.

"Oh...the mess..." she replied quietly looking up at him. His features more visable to her. She felt herself closer to him and slowly close her eyes.

Dieter panicked.

"Mademoiselle... the mess."

Camille immediately snapped out of her love bitten stupor and got right back to cleaning.

Dieter helped out on what he could with picking up the broken glass. As he leaned to pick the glass up, Camille was already on her knees trying to scrub the stain off the floor. They were inches part. Dieters heart raced.

She looked over at him and smiled.

He got up quickly before anything tempting would happen.

What is wrong with me...

As he threw out the glass he saw the small peice of paper containing the for closure of the bakery. His throat felt dry and his hands got clammy.

No...dont leave me just yet...

"I think I got most of it." Camille admitted as she got up from the floor.

Dieter looked her in the eyes.. she cant leave me yet...

"What is your name, Mademoiselle?" He asked her.

"Camille Robichaux." she answered. "Yours?"

"Major Dieter Hellstrom."

She giggled playfully and took his hat off his head and put it on hers. He laughed and tried to take it back, but she was too quick and ran away from him. He followed her, lagging behind on purpose. He watched her legs as they ran away from him. I wonder how those legs feel around my...

She turned a sharp corner and up a flight of steep stone stairs. The stairs to her flat. Should I? Dieter thought.

He heard her giggling and her feat running upstairs.

Fuck it. He ran after her, following her laughter.

@whore4waltz @rurivu @xoxocillian @fridaycanbesadsometimes @racheljo47 @whitechoc135 @officerh4t @blueberrypancakesworld @hanslandasstrudel

To be continued...😘😘

[theverystrangegirl27]

⋆⭒˚.Be My Once In A Lifetime ⋆⭒˚.⋆

Summary: You're a young actress with a supporting role in Inglorious Basterds. You and co-star Christoph Waltz grow closer under the pretense of practicing a scene together.

Warnings: smut, older man younger woman, vaginal sex, multiple orgasms

"You're kidding, right?”

The camera pans up your bare leg, revealing the tight black dress you'd been hassled into by Quentin and the costume designer.

Quentin paces back and forth in front of you, eyes squinted.

“No! I think this is perfect, maybe shorter heels, though.” He says, gesturing to the costume designer, who comes back with some tasteful kitten heels.

You've known Quentin for most of your life, having worked at the video store together and collaborated on many of your own short films.

It only seemed right for him to cast you in his latest project, though you don't understand why he'd want you, an amateur actress, working alongside legends like Brad Pitt and the talented Christoph Waltz.

The cameraman stops on your face, which you can see in the monitor, and you try to school it into a more pleasant expression but it's hopeless- you've never acted in a scene like this before.

“Quentin, are you sure I'm the right fit for this?” You ask, carefully walking down the short staircase.

He shoots you a look.

“Of course, I wouldn't have cast you if you weren't.”

You suppose he has a point.

“Besides, I think it'll be good for you to branch out and play a little dangerous, if you know what I mean.”

You can't help the laugh that escapes you as he raises his brows, obviously intending to cheer you up.

“Okay,” you agree, slipping off the stilettos and replacing them with the kitten heels. “Let's do it.”

That's how you end up beneath Christoph Waltz, or rather, Hans Landa.

The camera is zoomed in on both of your faces, Christoph tracing the line of your lips with his eyes as he recites the lines.

“The Basterds must know that I am not a stupid man.” He says, low and condescending. “To send a seductress after me, how infantile.”

Yet his lips draw nearer, his grip on your waist harsh and unforgiving. You look into his eyes, gaze cold as he looks back into yours. You arch, trying to get away, but he holds you tighter.

You gasp as he fingers dig into the dress, sharp blooms of pain growing from the skin there.

“However,” He begins, the corners of his mouth pulling into a horrible smile. “I would be more of an imbecile not to take this angelic little gift that was practically served to me on a silver platter.”

You feel yourself getting wet at the lilt in his voice, how hot his thigh feels pressed between your legs. You want him so bad.

He pulls you in, big hand spanning across your arched back, pressing you to him.

When his lips meet yours, you go a little weak in the knees.

You fight it at first, hands curling into fists against his chest, trying to turn your head away, but you can't fight the desire any longer.

You give in.

“And cut!”

Christoph pulls away, panting. Your chest heaves a little as you shakily pull air into your lungs, looking at the way your hand is still pressed against his chest.

“That was perfect,” Quentin praises, a wide smile taking up his face. “One more take, and I think we've got it.”

He comes up to the both of you, Christoph still holding you, albeit softer.

“Now, Y/N, the struggling was great, but maybe kick your feet out just a little. Really try to get away from this guy, but then, after a few seconds, sink into it like you did just then.” Quentin directs, and you nod, pushing a lock of hair out of your eyes.

“Christoph, don't be afraid to just-” Quentin makes a quick grabbing motion with his hands. “Latch onto her, really grab her.”

Christoph runs his hand down your back, and you can't tell whether it's intentional or not, but it makes you shiver anyway.

As Quentin walks away, Christoph turns his attention to you.

“I'm not hurting you, am I?”

You give him a reassuring smile, ignoring the way your heart does somersaults in your chest.

“No, I'm okay.” You say, and he smiles down at you.

“Tough girl,” He says, and you fight the urge to bite your lip. His gaze turns serious, business like. “You can really push back for me, I can handle it.”

You nod, blushing a little at the double meaning his words conjur. Soon enough, Quentin is calling action, and the two of you are back at it.

After the last take, Christoph and you are left on set together while the crew packs up, Quentin looking over the footage a few feet away.

Christoph slicks back his hair, watching you lean against the desk, kicking your shoes off idlily.

“Would you like to have dinner with me this evening, Y/N?”

The question is sudden, out of the blue. You look up quickly, and your suprise must show on your face because Christoph begins to explain himself.

“To discuss the scene, if you'd like.” He says, looking a little sheepish. It's so uncharacteristic of him that you don't think twice before saying yes.

“I'd love to.” You say, beaming at him.

The smile he gifts you with makes your heart flutter wildly in your chest.

That night, you meet at Christoph's hotel room. The suite is huge, yet not overly extravagant. It suits him well, you think, as he lets you in.

“You'll have to forgive me for running a little behind.” He apologizes as he fixes his jacket.

“That's alright.” You tell him, sending him a small smile.

He's wearing a simple black blazer over a white linen shirt, black slacks to match. Christoph is clean-shaven, and his hair is immaculate as always.

It takes everything in you not to drool.

He seems to be thinking the same thing because he's stuck staring at you, lips slightly parted.

“You look lovely.” He breathes.

It takes you by suprise, pink dusting your cheeks.

“I could say the same about you,” you respond, cheeky.

Christoph smiles, lips pulling back to reveal pearly white teeth.

“You flatter me.” He jokes, moving towards the door.

“This hotel has a wonderful restaurant at ground level, I think you'll enjoy it.”

You do, as a matter of fact. The red wine Christoph order's is delicious, paired with some kind of salmon dish you can't pronounce.

The whole dinner is spent laughing, bantering back and forth, and listening to Christoph’s many stories.

“I really can't remember why I did that particular film,” He's explaining, setting his empty wine glass down. “To tell you the truth, I was probably hard pressed for money at the time.”

He had shed his blazer twenty minutes ago, left in the white linen shirt that looked so, so good on him.

You press the tips of your fingers to your lips, giggling a little. The wine has begun to go to your head, making you feel light and airy.

“Well, we've all made desperate acting decisions.” You joke, your foot accidentally nudging his under the table.

Christoph looks at you, a soft smile on his face and an unreadable glint in his eye.

“Have we?” He asks, raising a brow.

You blush, sitting back in your chair and sipping the last of your wine.

“I mean, I was in these terrible short films during college, I'm sure Quentin can tell you all about them.”

Christoph surprises you by leaning forward, resting his elbows on the table.

“Tell me about these short films.” The way he enunciates the last two words makes you shiver a little, and you hope he doesn't notice. “Been in anything I would have seen?”

That startles a laugh from you, and deciding to match his energy, you too lean forward, propping your chin in your hand.

“I hope not.” You say, smiling wide as you look into his eyes.

They're so pretty. Christoph has this warm, comforting aura to him that you can't really explain.

You've seen him in American interviews, how he's often described as cold- his dry wit lost on the likes of Jimmy Fallon and Kimmel- but you can't imagine those people are describing the man currently sitting in front of you.

He laughs.

“Come on, I've told you about that embarrassing German television spot I did. You owe me.”

You bite your lip, looking down at the tablecloth before deciding on a story.

“You want to hear about my very first on-screen kiss?”

You wiggle your brows, watching as Christoph nods.

“I was twenty-two, and it was some student film Quentin had roped me into.” You sigh, thinking back on the film.

It wasn't very good - shakily filmed, poorly acted, and the worst part was the kiss.

You shudder at the thought.

“I don't think this guy had ever even touched a woman, let alone kiss one.” You say, Christoph huffing a laugh as you continue. “I swear to you, he leaned in, misjudged how close my lips were, and licked my chin!”

Christoph laughs along with you, shaking his head.

“God, what a nightmare.” He says, and you feel him gently tap your heeled foot. You furrow your brow, still smiling.

“You know, Y/N, you're an excellent kisser.”

Christoph catches you off guard, and you find yourself a little breathless.

“And you blush so prettily, my God.”

Now you're really looking at him, at the way his eyes are fixed on your parted lips, how his left hand is lying face up and empty on the table.

Is this really happening? You think.

With only a slight bit of hesitance, you reach forward, the tips of your fingers grazing his.

It's all the permission he needs.

Christoph takes your hand in his, turning it so he can trace your palm with his thumb. His hand is warm, strong against your smaller, softer palm.

You bite your lip, looking at him through your lashes.

“You know, when we first met, I felt like a dirty old man.” Christoph says, tone soft yet playful.

“Here's this beautiful woman, half my age, and I get to ravish her for the camera.”

He lifts your hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

“You don't know how many times I've thought about that kiss.”

It's a confession, something that makes your breath hitch and your eyes lock onto his.

“Christoph,” You begin, shocked.

Christoph is looking at you, so sincerely, your heart aches.

“If I'm misreading this, please, tell me now.”

Christoph has been the object of your desire for weeks now, working with him day in and out a specific sort of torture you can't begin to explain.

Of course you want him.

You squeeze his hand.

“Will you take me back to your room?”

Christoph grins, something salacious in it that makes you want to kiss it off of him.

He takes the hand he's holding to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

“Lead the way, liebling.”

*

*

*

Christoph has you up against the hotel room door, your dress pushed up over your thighs as he kisses you deeply.

You've never been with a man who kisses like Christoph does - with complete, sure confidence and finesse. It makes your insides hot and melt-y feeling, leaving you desperate for more.

Your hands clench into his white shirt, desperation filling all of your senses.

You want him so bad.

He pulls away slightly, eyes dark as he looks at the mess he's made of you.

“You'll let me have you, angel?” He asks, and you nod, eyes big as they take in the sight of him.

“Yeah?” He asks again, a slow, easy smile on his face.

“Yes.” You breathe.

He kisses you once, twice, three times before turning your body from the door, backing you up towards the bed.

“I've wanted to feel you for so long, beautiful girl.”

You pull the straps of your dress down, nipples hard in the cool air.

His eyes are immediately drawn to them, thumbs coming up to stoke at your nipples, the pads of them warm against your skin.

“Christoph,” you sigh, leaning up to kiss him again, one hand coming to tangle in his hair.

When you break for air, you move to slide your dress down your body, leaving in the black panties you had picked out for this occasion.

Christoph runs his hands down your body, eyes piercing as they take you in.

“God help me,” He mutters before leaning in, pressing you into the expensive hotel sheets.

You gasp, your naked back hitting the mattress with a surprising amount of force. You look up through your lashes at Christoph, who is leaning above you, undoing his belt hastily. You smirk, your hands sliding up his thighs and helping him with his fly.

“You wanna fuck me?” You tease, breathless.

Christoph swallows, his movement's slowing as he looks down at you.

“Liebling, fucking is for insolent, foolish boys.” He finally gets his pants down, boxers following soon after. Christoph leans down, and you think he's going to kiss you, but instead his lips find your ear.

“I'm going to make love to you, and believe me, you'll be thinking of me for weeks to come after I'm through with you.”

You feel yourself getting wet at his words, the promise of his dick finally getting inside of you, making you easy for it. Your legs fall open, Christoph making a home between them.

His face finds your neck, planting sweet, wet kisses to the skin there.

You want him inside you so badly, and you tell him as much, back arching when his fingers find your cunt.

“So soft, my beautiful girl,” He mutters, breathless as he rubs at your clit.

You close your eyes, hands scrabbling at his back.

“I want you, Christoph, please,” you beg, shameless.

He kisses you, silencing you. You get lost in the feeling of his hand on you, his lips devouring every moan and gasp he draws from you.

You huff, eyebrows furrowing as he rubs faster and faster on your clit.

“Oh my God-” You manage to gasp out, thighs clenching around his arm as you come.

Christoph works you through it relentlessly.

“There she is, that's my good girl. That's it.” He groans, forehead pressed to yours.

You whine, arching away from his fingers as the stimulation becomes too much.

“Please fuck me, please Christoph.”

He smiles, eyes meeting yours.

“I love the way you say my name.”

The two of you maintain eye contact as he enters you, agonizingly slow. You watch the way his breath catches, how his eyes flutter shut when his hips meet yours. That overwhelming, satisfying fullness makes you moan softly, hands gripping him close.

“You feel so good,” you tell him, all sorts of feelings bubbling up in you.

He rocks forward, hips meeting yours lovingly as he carves a home for himself in You.

Your eyes fall shut, head tilting back, and he sucks wet, lust filled kisses onto your neck.

The pace quickens, the headboard hitting the wall as you both grow frantic.

“You're going to come for me again, my angel, my pretty girl,” He pants, a hand coming up to brush your sweaty hair from your face. His palm is warm, and you tilt your head to kiss it.

“Yes,” your breath, hot, bubbling pleasure threatening to spill over you. “Make me come, please, please, Christoph-"

He groans, burying his face in your neck.

You wrap your legs around his back, wanting to keep him close, and the pleasure builds higher, higher, then-

“Fuck!”

You throw your head back, eyes closed and mouth agape as your second orgasm of the night overtakes you.

“Jesus, ich sterbe,” He groans, low and heady as he pumps you full of his come.

Christoph's hips stutter as your walls flutter around him, beckoning him further.

You hold him close to you as he rides out his orgasm, kissing his forehead.

Sighing and spent, he rests on top of you. You run your fingers through his hair, legs shaking as they unwrap from around his waist.

“Stay with me?” He asks quietly.

You put a hand under his chin, lifting it so your eye level.

You kiss him gently.

“I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.”

[averagewriter-inthedark]

💌🤍AverageWriter-InTheDark Masterlists Directory🤍💌

Updated 12 June 24

✈️ Top Gun Maverick ✈️

🦸‍♀️ Marvel 🦸‍♀️

🧛🏻‍♀️ Twilight 🧛🏻‍♀️

✨ Harry Potter ✨

🔍 Doctor Who & Broadchurch 🔍

🐉 Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon 🐉

🐺 Teen Wolf 🐺

🚬 Inglorious Basterds 🚬

🐴 Outer Range 🐴

Other Fandoms (ones that only less than 5 works posted for)

[perertovich]

Christoph Waltz and Quentin Tarantino

"I’ve never given a man a blowjob, but at that moment, at that time, if anyone deserved it, it was him." © Quentin Tarantino

Hello! I warn you that English is not my native language, so this description may seem "machine-written" to you. I decided not to translate the fanfic itself and leave it in Russian, because it seems pointless to me. Either I'll throw it into the translator, or you'll do it yourself if you really want to read it. My fanfic hasn't received much fame on the Russian-language site, so I decided to post it here. Maybe more people will like it here. Enjoy reading!

Квентин Тарантино сидел в своём уже повидавшим не один фильм режиссёрском кресле, совершено позабыв про стаканчик тёмного крепкого кофе в своей руке, который начал остывать. Мужчина старался лишний раз не дышать и не двигаться. Всего один громкий вдох и вся прелесть тщательно проработанного кадра пропадёт. Что уж говорить о движениях — шуршание грубой ткани джинсовки уничтожит напряжённую донельзя атмосферу между актёрами в старом фермерском домике. Снималась одна из первых сцен фильма, где полковник Лан��а ведёт допрос месье Лападита.

Когда Кристоф двигает руками, жестикулируя, слышны тихие, едва уловимые скрипы искусственной кожи от трения. Режиссёр фокусируется на этом звуке, абстрагируясь от всего другого. Даже диалог актёров доносится до него будто из-за стенки. В глазах то и дело мелькают вспышки от того, как лучи солнца отталкиваются от чёрной кожи пальто, оставляя на сетчатки яркие пятна. Погода сегодня им благоволит.

Тихо и крадучись Тарантино подходит к оператору. Режиссёр аккуратно касается его плеча, мягко велит отодвинуться от камеры. На маленьком экране массивной аппаратуры карие глаза видят серьёзное точёное лицо Вальца крупным планом. То что нужно, потрясающе. Внешность актёра прекрасна, именно то, что хочет видеть Тарантино в своём персонаже — полковнике Ланде. Эти глубокие синие глаза, этот мужественный квадратный подбородок. Кадр великолепен: угол, свет, цвета, будто сам господь Бог, в которого не верит Квентин, преподнёс ему эту замечательную картинку и этого мужчину. Дыхание режиссёра становится глубже, язык юрко проходит между сухих потрескавшихся губ, увлажняя. По спине бегут мурашки, а в животе становится тепло скручивается узлом.

— Мистер Тарантино… — раздался возле уха мягкий женский голос.

От неожиданности режиссёр вздрагивает и проливает некоторое количество кофе на ножку штатива камеры. Пару крупных капель попадают на его правую кожаную туфлю.

— Блять! — будто раскат грома ругательство прогремело в небольшой комнате домика.

Реплики актёров прерываются, все повернули головы в сторону режиссёра. Тот злобно сопит, маленькие тёмные глаза бегают то по бездарным рабочим, то по дорогущей аппаратуре, то по этому злосчастному стаканчику кофе. Чёрт, кадр был просто волшебный и теперь он испорчен! Второго такого не будет!

— Все вон! Вышли отсюда! — орёт Тарантино, глазами метая молнии в каждого своего подчинённого. Никто не спорит, люди быстро и покорно направляются к хлипкой деревянной двери домика. — Вальц, останься, — актёр смиренно садится обратно на стул и нервно поправляет чёлку.

Только после того, как за последним человеком закрывается дверь Квентин громко вздыхает. Он подносит пальцы к переносице и мысленно считает до десяти, успокаиваясь. Может в следующий раз каждый из них подумает дважды, стоит ли подходит к нему во время работы. Какие вопросы могут быть важнее съёмки его гениального фильма? Глаза открываются и он видит напряжённое лицо Вальца, который стряхивает с бедра несуществующий мусор. Бедный, ты не виноват в гневе. Тебе не стоит бояться, ты сделал всё прекрасно.

Медленными тяжёлыми шагами Квентин подходит к мужчине. Тот скромно сложил руки на коленях и ждёт, смотря щенячьим взглядом.

— Ты… — Тарантино специально делает театральную паузу, наслаждаясь видом милых несчастных глазок. Он указывает пальцем на Кристофа. Тот сложил брови домиком, готовый к гневной критикующей тираде, — ты великолепен!

Брови актёра ползут вверх в удивлении, поза становится менее напряжённой, с губ слетает вздох облегчения.

Квентин наклоняется к нему и хлопает его по плечу в подбадривающем жесте, с силой сжимая ладонь. Чёрная кожа пальто хоть и мнётся легко, но на ощупь груба, а небольшое, по сравнению с крупной рукой Тарантино, плечо твёрдо.

— И я не знаю, как тебя отблагодарить, — продолжает мысль мужчина.

— Гонорара и возможности работать с одним из лучших режиссёров мира, меня вполне устра…

Вальца грубо прерывает приложенный к губам палец, заставляя замолчать.

— Ш-ш… этого не достаточно. Этого чертовски недостаточно, Крис!

— Кристоф, — поправляет мужчина. Он не любит это сокращение.

— Кристоф, — исправлятся Квентин и переводит свой взгляд с непонимающих синих глаз актёра на свой палец, который всё ещё прижимает к тонким чужим губам. Палец медленно движется ниже, к волевому подбородку. А затем в бок, чтобы погладить острую линию широкой челюсти, — ты заслуживаешь большего, ты…

Слова кончаются. Квентин не способен словестно как-то ещё выразить всю степень своей огромной благодарности этому человеку, который в прямом смысле слова спас его фильм. Хотя… Точно!

На лице режиссёра расплывается хитрая улыбка, а в глазах загорается огонёк азарта. Мужчина начинает снимать с себя джинцовку.

— Я знаю, чего ты действительно заслуживаешь! — радостно выдаёт он.

Серая джинцовка падает к ногам Вальца и Тарантино аккуратно опускается на неё коленями. Возраст уже не тот, надо беречь суставы. Стаканчик с кофе ставится рядом на пол. Кристоф непонимающе хмурится, наблюдая за действиями режиссёра. Пальцы того разводят полы кожаного плаща в стороны и забираются под чёрную шерсть мундира.

— Что ты делаешь?!

— Собираюсь тебя отблагодарить. Сразу говорю, я новичок в этом деле. Раньше не приходилось отсасывать мужчине, но надеюсь, что тебе понравится.

От шока Кристоф столбенеет прижимая руки к груди, где через несколько плотных слоёв одежды ощущается усиливающийся стук сердца. В голове, как колокол, гремит только один вопрос: Какого чёрта? Он не верит, что происходящее — реально. А Тарантино тем временем быстро расстёгивает пуговицу на брюках и ловко вытаскивает из нижнего белья ещё вялый орган.

— Ну, погнали, — выдыхает Квентин, двигает рукой на пробу и изгибает запястье в разные стороны, изучающе.

Чужой член в руках ощущается… Странно? Вполне вероятно. Чуждо? Определённо. Отвратительно? Точно нет. Он мягкий и тёплый, кожа так нежна по сравнению с грубой ласкающей ладонью. И через неопределённое количество поступательных движений рукой можно почувствовать, как плоть становится более упругой и неподдатливой на изгибы. Из-под крайней плоти показывается розовая увеличенная головка, которая блестит от естественной смазки в лучах солнца. А потом она прячется, маня снова оголить и полюбоваться ею. Можно ли считать себя геем, испытывая такой интерес к чужому члену?

Накопив немного слюны, Тарантино без колебаний берёт в рот кончик органа. Нет тошноты, нет отвращения, только горячий кусок плоти фалической формы, с лёгким солоноватым вкусом, открывающимся при контакте головки с языком. Квентин закрывает глаза, представляя, как это смотрится со стороны. Картинка яркая, образы живые. Обострившиеся чувства осязания, обоняния и вкуса помогают сформировать детали от общих к более частным. А когда во время вздоха он улавливает нотки мускуса, то по спине пробегает дрожь, особенно отдаваясь в пояснице и тяжестью в паху.

Кристоф — в тёмной военной форме, которая идеально сшита по меркам, принадлежащих только ему. Квентин помнит ощущение дорогой шерстяной ткани под пальцами, когда поправлял актёру пиджак в кадре. Ему не нужно, чтобы всё было хорошо. Ему нужно, чтобы всё было идеально. А эта чёртова форма идеально сидит на таком идеальном человеке, как Кристоф. Когда Квентин впервые увидел Вальца в ней, то пожалел, что лично не одевал его в этот образ.

Сам же Тарантино — в обычной тёмной рубашке и джинсах не самой первой свежести. Он стоит на коленях, будто приклоняясь перед всей величественностью фигуры, сидящей перед ним. Член, который двигается между губ режиссёра, не добавляет этой картине пошлости. Нет, совсем нет. Эта деталь ракрывает его, как человека, готового на всё, ради искусства. Ведь сцена, которую видит Тарантино перед закрытыми веками, кажется ему такой чувственной и непревычной для него, но при этом способной раскрыть полковника Ланду с такой стороны, с которой Квентин его не раз представлял. Тогда было трудно развить эту мысль дальше, без чёткого визуального представления персонажа. А сейчас, когда у него есть Кристоф, когда он видит прямое воплощение своего детища в жизнь, он не может остановить поток мыслей. Но, никто к сожалению не поймёт его гений, если он попытается внести эту «откровенную» сцену в сценарий.

В желании добиться более бурной реакции и доставить другому мужчине больше удовольствия, Квентин убирает сложившийся обзор в ящик, до момента, пока не останется один. Он вспоминает приёмы из порнофильмов и личного опыта. Обвести языком кончик головки, нежно поддеть крайнюю плоть и ловко залезть туда языком. Хорошо, это должно быть приятно.

Кристоф издаёт грудной стон, но резко закрывает рот руками, боясь, что их услышат другие актёры и съёмочная группа. Квентин, как может, улыбается от этих звуков, так же старательно запоминая и откладывая их в своём мозгу. Эрекция, по ощущениям достигла своего пика и Тарантино выпускает её из-зо рта, разглядывая. Берёт уже влажный от слюны орган в руку и двигает ей, снова наблюдая за тем, как красная головка высказывает и прячется за крайней плотью. Она сияет ещё больше от смеси слюны и естественной смазки. В собственном паху снова отдаёт тяжестью и любимые джинсы сидят уже не так свободно, как обычно. Кто ��е знал, что делать минет мужчине приятнее, чем он думал.

Квентин отпускает орган и тот теперь стоит перед ним, не падая, но кося немного влево. На фоне чёрной грубоватой ткани бледный от основания, плавно переходящий в розовый к головке член выглядит гармонично и эстетически приятно. Он не большой, но и не маленький. Он именно такой, какой и должен быть… классический. Именно такой член получается, когда соблюдается баланс золотого сечения. Небольшая головка, которая натреть закрыта крайней плотью, утолщение обхвата в середине и уловимые лишь под определённым углом света и тени ветви вен. Квентин смотрит на это и понимает, что хочет запечатлеть этот образ. Но в сознании, просить на камеру он не имеет права.

— Чёрт, мужик. Ты идеален во всём, — Тарантино переводит взгляд с члена на лицо Вальца. Красное от смущения и возбуждения лицо, виски поддёрнуты тонким слоем пота, рот прикрыт руками, а в широко раскрытых глазах читается смесь шока, непонимания и даже капли страха. Режиссёр хмурится, актёр должен выглядеть не так в этот момент. Он должен наслаждаться этим актом благодариения, должен выглядеть властным. Сам Квентин Тарантино перед ним на коленях! — Убери руки и покажи мне всю сексуальность и доминантность на которую способен. Не сдерживайся. А если тебе противно, то сыграй удовольствие ради меня. Я хочу видеть страсть!

Тарантино снова берёт в руки член, высовывает язык и нежно постукивает по нему головкой. А за��ем плавно, на сколько способен, двигает головой. Внутрь, наружу, внутрь, наружу… Головка скользит между влажными покрасневшими от трения губами, сталкиваясь во рту с языком. Квентин чувствует им очертания уздечки, когда ласково обвивает орган языком. Наружу — головка полностью выходит, лишь кончик упирается в губы. Внутрь — Квентин заглатывает манящей горячей плоти чуть больше, чем в первые разы. Снова наружу, и так по кругу.

Желая оценить плоды своей работы карие глаза режиссёра поднимаются вверх. Взгляд синих глаз Кристофа не совсем осознаный, будто застелен лёгкой пеленой, как при алкогольном опьянении. Зрачки расширены. Его брови нахмурены, образуя две небольших, но глубоких складки между собой. Рот приоткрыт, грудь ритмично двигается от быстрых коротких вздохов. Стоит актёру увидеть, что режиссёр за ним наблюдает и между сухих от дыхания тонких губ быстро скользит язык, смачивая их. На лице Кристофа растягивается ленивая кривая улыбка — левый уголок чуть выше, от чего и морщины на щеке отчётливее. Верхние веки нависают, прикрывая глаза, но не закрывая их. В своих волосах ��арантино чувствует ладонь. Она проходится сбоку головы, задевает ухо, отчего режиссёр чувствует её шершавость и останавливается на затылке, перебирая в пальцах тёмные волосы. Квентин останавливается и ждёт, он держит упругий член у основания, упирается влажной головкой в свои красные губы. Это кажется вечностью, Кристоф решается на это движение так, будто от этого зависит его жизнь. И наконец Тарантино чувствует заветный и желанный толчок в затылок от чужой ладони. Движение слабое, еле уловимое, но для него оно отчётливо.

Снова член проникает в рот. Квентин двигает головой быстрее, осознавая, что в таком откровенном уединении они находятся достаточно долго для своих коллег по цеху. Он хаотично оглаживает худые бёдра актёра, пальцы трепещут от колючей шерсти брюк. Кристоф поддаётся ближе, от чего член проникает в рот немного глубже. Раздаётся тихий грудной стон наслаждения. Рука на затылке сжимает волосы режиссёра. Тарантино с силой хватает Кристофа за талию, притягивая себя ближе и заглатывая столько плоти, сколько может.

— Oh mein Gott! — не сдерживается и стонет актёр.

Челюсть начинает неприятно саднить от непревычной и долгой работы. Хоть и минет, на удивление, достаточно приятное занятие, но Квентин понимает, что начинает уставать. Колени и поясница отдают лёгкой туповатой болью от продолжительного пребывания в одной неудобной позе. Собственная эрекция противно сдавлена плотными джинсами. И вот он чувствует, как рука на затылке тянет его за волосы назад.

— Я близок… — тихо, на выдохе хрипит Вальц.

Тарантино отбивает его руку и продолжает всё так же, не сбавляя темпа сосать. Бёдра актёра дрожат, рука снова хватается за волосы Квентина, неприятно сжимая. Кристоф приходит к пику и как можно тише стонет. В глазах на несколько секунд темнеет, а уши закладывает. На языке режиссёр чувствует жидкость с солоноватым вкусом. Он проглатывает всё, старательно высасывая остатки из члена будто через соломинку.

Квентин отрывается от паха актёра, делает глубокий вдох и с облегчением садится. Язык скользит по влажным онемевшим губам. Староват он уже для таких трюков. Кристоф также глубоко дышит, стараясь успокоить бешенное сердцебиение. Несколько прядей выбились из идеальной причёски, прилипнув ко лбу.

Кряхтя, режиссёр поднимается на ноги, попутно прихватывая стаканчик с кофе. Вкус спермы оказался менее приятным, чем процесс её добывания. В два глотка мужчина допивает остывший невкусный горький кофе, морщась.

Кристоф всё так же сидит и смотрит на него удивлёнными, широко открытыми глазами.

— Спасибо? — неуверенно тянет он.

Квентин улыбается и кивает актёру. Кристоф слишком мил в этот момент. Мужчина переводит взгляд на пах актёра и по спине снова побегает приятная дрожь. Вялый орган все ещё блестит в свете лучей, расположившись на бедре. Режиссёр подходит, наскоро протерает его рукавом джинцовки и запихивает обратно в нижнее бельё. Пачкать актёрскую одежду нет никакого желания, после стирки она станет уже не той. Кристоф морщится и скуляще выдыхает от неприятного ощущения грубой ткани о чувствительный после эякуляции орган.

— Я надеюсь, ты понимаешь, что это должно остаться между нами? — поднимает бровь Тарантино, смотря на Кристофа.

Тот несколько раз активно кивает, соглашаясь с режиссёром. Квентин берёт челюсть Вальца в руку, фиксируя и не давая отвернуться от своих пытливых тёмных глазок. Внимательно вглядывается в каждую морщинку на лице, большой палец поглаживает шрам с левой стороны подбородка.

— Полковник Ланда… — шёпотом с придыханием тянет режиссёр.

Зрачки актёра расширяются.

Нет, Тарантино определённо недостаточно его отблагодарил. Этот человек спас его фильм. Благодарности никогда не бывает много!

[inferno-sys]

Wrote a little LandaRaine fic because I got into the fandom and have watched the movie almost 3 times now.

[acealpaca]

New fanfic! Once Upon A Time in Hollywood meets Inglorious Basterds character Aldo Raine, who is Cliff Dalton's uncle.

Link here

[ghostlingpupversailles]

I watched it again now I need to go find fanfics 🥲

Ya’ll I’m getting that itch to waTCH IT AGAIN

[milandsk]

would anyone be interested in inglorious basterds x reader fanfic ?

i want to write but i don't know about who 😭😭

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Not a request, but I had to tell someone about this. I was looking up Ralph Fiennes stuff on here just for the heck of it, and, no joke, I came across a few pieces of fanfic and a video that "shipped" Amon Goeth and Helen Hirsch (his Jewish maid) from Schindler's List. Like...seriously, what the fuck? I mean, I admit Ralph was good-looking in that movie, but...the dude he played was a literal monster. What is wrong with people?

Yeah, I think there's a very definitive line that's crossed there. Like not only are you writing a Nazi/Jewish person romance fanfic but you're actually using a work that involves real life people and their stories. Like I understand Ralph Fiennes is attractive and that people love their enemies to lovers/tortured man who's in love stories but there's a thousand other things you can find and read/write about that don't involve historic figures and their victims.

Like, I'm indecisive about writing for characters in biopics because they're based on real life people: and those characters are perfectly normal and law abiding citizens. It's baffling to me how someone could confidently make content for Amon Goth (and Helen). Zoller and Shoshanna from Inglorious Basterds are bad enough and they're entirely fictional.

It's something that I can only hope has to do with age, ya know? Like they're too young to really think about it and realize how messed up it is.

[wingsy-keeper-of-songs]

I can’t figure out who the man in your blurb could be but Tarantino…you write Quentin Tarantino fanfic?

Only for his films, not the man himself (I'm uncomfortable with Real People Fanfiction these days). The films I usually write for are Inglorious Basterds and Django Unchained.

[annikityk]

I may or may not have an idea on Stiglitz/that British officer Fassbender plays

You know, for a white cishet male movie this one is quite gay

[fandoms-are-my-friends-1321]

Empty Chairs at Empty Tables

This was requested by @jokersqueenofchaos, and while this starts off super angsty it will end on a happy note I promise. This was inspired partially by the song Empty Chairs at Empty Tables from Les Miserable, so feel free to listen along while you read this if you want but it’s not required. Either way I hope everyone enjoys it! Gif and characters are not mine.

Summary: Omar helps comfort the reader after they have a nightmare, which leads to some teasing from the other basterds

Warnings: mentions of death and blood during the nightmare sequence (this will be in italics, and you can skip this part if need be and the story will make sense still), suggestive remarks, if I miss something let me know

The landscape was nothing but grey ash as Y/N trudged through what was left of the town they were staying in. An unexpected attack had been launched by the Nazis, but Y/N was in the town over gathering supplies for them and the other Basterds.

Y/N shoved the oak door of the makeshift hideout, and it fell off the hinges with a loud thud, sending more ash into the air. Y/N sputtered as they waved their hand to clear the air. The roof of the hideout had caved in from the blasts, and the morning sun created a hazy glow in the room.

The table that Y/N and the other Basterds had sat at the night before was the only thing left unbroken in the room. The rest of it was in shambles. Y/N ran around frantically trying to find their comrades.

“Guys, is anyone here?! Please answer me!” No reply came, and Y/N ran further into the medium sized building. When they reached the back room where all of the Basterds slept, including Y/N, they almost passed out at the sight.

Every single one of her friends lie dead in front of them. Aldo had been hung from the ceiling, Hugo had his throat slashed in the same fashion he had done to many Nazis before, Donny had the splinters from his bat shoved into his eyes. All of them were gone. Y/N let the contents of their stomach spill onto the floor.

The one that Y/N was most worried about was Omar. He was sweet and yet just as tough as any of the other Basterds. If he was alive the two of them could get revenge against the people who did this. As the first set of tears fell from Y/N’s eyes, they gently climbed past the corpses of their fallen friends. Then they found the one they didn’t want to see.

Omar was sprawled out on the floor, his eyes still open. Blood dripped from the wound at the top of his forehead, where the scalp was no longer in place. Y/N let out a piercing scream as they fell to the floor clutching Omar to their chest.

Omar could hear the screams through the thin walls, and the other Basterds began to stir in their sleep too. “It’s Y/N. Something is wrong,” Omar said as he sprang up from his sleeping bag. The others started to move, but Omar told them to wait.

Omar sprinted into the other room where Y/N was still screaming in their sleep. Omar pulled back the blankets and shook Y/N’s shoulders gently. “Y/N! Please wake up!”

The shouting brought Y/N from their nightmare, but they moved away from Omar to the opposite side of the bed. The tears still fell from their face, and Omar’s heart shattered at the sight. “It should have been me,” Y/N sobbed at the top of their lungs. “You all deserved to live! If I had been there I could have saved you and everyone else!”

Omar wasn’t sure how to approach Y/N, but he went with his gut and placed both hands on their cheeks. “Y/N, look at me. I’m safe, and the other’s are safe too. I’m not going to make you talk about the nightmare, but I will do whatever it takes to make you feel better.”

Y/N lunged forward and wrapped their arms around Omar’s neck, a few more sobs causing their body to shake. Omar placed his arms around Y/N’s waist and pulled them as close as he possible could to his warm body. Omar’s scent started to calm Y/N in an instant. They noted that he smelled like vanilla and gunpowder. Y/N snuggled closer to Omar, and once Omar realized what was happening, he couldn’t help but blush.

“Thank you, Omar. I’m sorry for waking you up,” Y/N mumbled into Omar’s neck.

Omar gently shook his head as his right hand reassuringly squeezed Y/N’s side. “Don’t apologize, sweetheart. You deserve some comfort.”

The new nickname made Y/N giggle, and they placed a quick but sweet peck on Omar’s cheek. The room felt like a sauna after that to Omar as Y/N drifted off to sleep in Omar’s arms, leaving him a blushing but happy mess. The other Basterds finally started to creep into the room, and they all shared glances once they saw Omar and Y/N.

“Well, looks like you have the magic touch, Omar,” Aldo grinned as he leaned against the door frame.

“Ain’t they cute,” Donny commented. “Imagine the cute kids they’ll have!”

Hugo, who had been very protective of Y/N from the start, sent a somewhat threatening glare towards Omar. “I may be your comrade, but you treat them wrong and I’ll kill you myself.”

Omar swallowed as he nodded his head to show he understood. “I would never hurt Y/N, and I promise to keep her safe.”

Hugo could tell Omar was telling the truth, so he too nodded his head before leaving. The others went to leave as well, but Donny went back just as the other’s were out of ear shot. “Hey, you two had better not make to much noise late at night. I enjoy my beauty sleep ya know.” Donny sent a wink at Omar, who turned the color of an apple as he shifted slightly. Donny laughed as he walked away, leaving Y/N and Omar alone again.

Omar leaned down and pressed a kiss to Y/N’s forehead, and their hand clenched slightly on Omar’s shirt. Omar chuckled at them, and he began fo rub small circles on their back. “Sleep well, lovely. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you ever again.” Soon Omar too drifted off to sleep, and both of the Nazi hunters stayed cuddled next to each other until the morning sun could be seen.

[struggling-bee]

Fine - Hugo Stiglitz x Reader

@redrosewritingsstuff tagging you like you asked >:)

----------------------------------------------

Gunshots rang through your ears, and your eyes widened. It wasn’t just one shot either, it was many, lasting too long. You and The Basterds all looked at each other during the following silence. No one was saying anything. Nothing else could be heard from the basement, no more yelling, no shattering…

You bolted for the door but two sets of arms held you back as you struggled

“Let me go Aldo! Donny! Let me go!” Donny’s grip on your arm stayed the same, but Aldo’s only tightened.

“Give ‘em a damn minute!”

You stopped struggling, but quietly counted 60 seconds in your head. Aldo thought you’d calmed down so he let you go and went to talk to Donny, hoping to act quickly.

You knew you needed to be cautious and patient, but when sixty came, you burst out the door with your superiors calling after you. 

Later on, it would come to mind that there were to be serious consequences, but right now all you could think about was Hugo. You whispered his name over and over, trying not to trip down the stairs to the bar.

Once you came to the doorway, you were shot at. Luckily you had fallen (miraculously, actually) and dodged the first bullet. One of your strengths was reaction time, so in only a matter of seconds you had knocked out the kraut who had tried to shoot. With him laying on the bar, unconscious and bleeding, you surveyed the room. You couldn’t hear well as you were still pumping with adrenaline, but your eyesight was fine. You didn’t see any movement at all, besides some smoke still blowing.

“Hugo?” you said, now walking around and looking at bodies “Wicki? Archie?” no answer.

“Hammersmark?”

Her name rolled off your tongue with distaste, and you were glad you didn’t hear a response from her. You didn’t know her and you didn’t trust her, and she was the reason this happened, she was the reason Hugo might be d-

You heard a groan from across the room.

“My god, Wicki?” you dashed towards him, not without trampling some corpses. Wicki was standing up, swaying and groaning. You were by his side, holding him up as best as you could.

“Wicki, what in the hell happened? Where’s Hugo?”

It was hard, not yelling, but Wicki didn’t need to be shouted at right now.

He cleared his throat and tried to talk, but couldn’t. You helped him into a chair and turned to the direction he nodded towards.

Hugo was on the ground, eyes closed, bleeding.

Breathing? Not breathing?

Breathing. Barely.

“My god, no. Hugo.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He didn’t die, nor did Wicki or Hammersmark. Archie didn’t die either but he was out of sight out of mind for you. They were all being treated (as best as a vet could) and lying in cots. You weren’t allowed in the room.

Once Aldo and the others had made it down, they were immediately helping Wicki stand up himself and figuring out how to move Hugo safely. It wasn’t until later that you noticed Hammersmark was there, and alive, but as soon as you did you couldn't stop yelling at her. You knew many languages, and she had been cursed at in all of them. Aldo had to detain you for the second time that day.

So you weren’t allowed in the room with them, with Hugo. You felt you were being treated like a child in time-out. In the very back of your head, you understood, but you were not in the mood to be understanding.

Hugo was your best friend. Aldo had sent your best friend into a basement because a German stranger said to. You respected Aldo, but this...you wouldn’t be able to forgive him if it had gone any worse.

Stewing in your thoughts, you didn’t notice footsteps coming towards you. You didn’t even notice anyone else was in the room until you were making eye contact with Aldo, your knife in your hand and ready, gripping his shoulder and keeping him a distance away. Reflexes, he must have tapped you on the shoulder.

He stared at you unblinkingly. You pulled away.

“Sir.”

He sighed.

“You can go in now, but you and me,” he stopped you for a second “We’re gon’ have a talk later.”

You kept walking, trying not to run.

“No we’re not going to talk, you’re just going to yell at me.”

He’d laugh about that later to himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you walked in, you saw Wicki laying and staring at the ceiling, Archie, asleep, and Hugo was sitting up. Of course he was sharpening his knife too…That thing was his baby. Nothing could keep him away from it.

“Hey Hugo.” You said softly, walking towards the chair next to his bed.

He looked up at you for a second, then his eyes dropped back down to his work.

“Hello.”

You dragged a chair over to his bed and sat down. “How’re you feeling?”

“Drugged.”

You rolled your eyes and looked behind you.

“How about you Wicki? In a lot of pain?”

“You don’t need to pretend you’re here to see both of us.”

“Thanks.”

You turned back around, your frontside facing the back of your chair, chin resting on your crossed arms.

Hugo opened up best if you mentioned one of his interests…and you wanted him to open up.

“Can you sharpen my knife later, Hugo?”

He looked up at you, his face slightly relaxed.

“Sure.”

You smiled and muttered thanks, but kept watching him.

He glanced up at you, briefly.

“I’m going to be fine.”

You smiled a little, but…

“Hugo, I don’t trust anyone. That guys just a vet, how am I supposed to believe him? And don’t get me started on Hammersmark”

“You trust me.” Hugo said curtly. His eye contact was a bit intense.

You actually smiled this time.

“Yeah, I trust you.” You sighed a little, resigned. “If you say you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine…”

Hugo nodded. “Yeah.”

It only lasted a second, but you saw him smile at you.

He’d be fine.

[rurivu]

Last spring day

Donny Donowitz&Fem!reader

!!!NSFW!!!

•°•°•°•°•°°•°•°••°

A sunny day in the city of Boston, a field outside the city, where after school you always ran a race to the big oak.You've been Donny Donowitz's best friend since elementary school, and he's yours.It was exactly the same weather when he said on the first day of your meeting, "I bet I can get to this oak tree faster?" and he took off like a horse, and you, too, were taken aback as soon as possible, but of course the boy overtook and rejoiced in his victory for a long time.But you weren't offended or even upset, even then you were happy to see him happy, so you stood and watched.And so year after year, you ran and he always ran first.

Everything has been restless lately, the young Jew is very worried and often annoyed, he talks about revenge and injustice all the time, but next to you he is distracted from gloomy thoughts and can fool around again, making you laugh.

Now you and he are 16 years old.This year the guy was especially depressed, your presence calmed him down, but it didn't help.You were really worried about him.But here is the end of spring, Donny informs you that he wants to go to war...And here he is running away from you on the green grass on the last day of school, you see his black nape, a crumpled school shirt in the process, a briefcase shaking in all directions...And you realize that you see him for the last time, that he will never come again, will not tell you about baseball for the hundredth time, will no longer hang upside down on the branches of trees, will not sit next to this tree...He's literally running away from you.This thought brings tears to your eyes, you don't want to let him go, you want to run away from all this, catch up with him...

The wind blows like mad, tearing tears from your cheeks, you have never run so fast in your life.Before you know it, you're already standing by the oak tree, and Donny...from behind..For the first time in so many years, you were the first, but for some reason you were not at all happy...

"It can't be," Donowitz shouted, throwing his hands behind his head as he walked into the wreckage.- Have you been pretending for 9 years that you don't know how to run just to give me a head start?!It's actually not fair!

You smiled:

- If I really could have overtaken even then, 9 years ago!- you shouted back.Having grinned loudly for a long time, the guy reached you and, throwing the briefcase into the grass, lay down under a tree, giving his hands a familiar pose behind his head.After a little hesitation, you lay down next to him, putting your head on his shoulder, and your hand on his chest.You were silent and looked into the distance, which was very strange for you in normal circumstances.But no, both understand, this is the last time you see each other.

"Don't you want to start telling me how stupid I am or something?"Donny asked seriously, he was really interested in this question.Oh Donny, Donny, always speaks directly.

- Of course not, I know that you are doing the right thing, and you, Donowitz, know this very well, too, - you answered in a calm measured tone.- so it's not me who's going to dissuade you, anyway.- you drummed the last words with your thin fingers on his chest.The guy smiled tenderly, but there was an almost imperceptible sadness and tenderness in his smile, which only you saw.He liked it so much that he was understood, which made it so painful to leave you.

- You are a brave man, Donny Donowitz, fighting for justice and it is worthy...- you continued a little more quietly while he, as if by chance, wound one of your two braids on his finger.

- Worthy of it...to fall...- you repeated, not knowing yourself whether you want to continue the thought or finish it.Why this farce, these fake conversations, they will not lead to anything and will not change anything, but only add fuel to the fire!No.Today, right now, something special is going to happen, it just has to.Donny owes you.What can the last Donowitz do for you, and you for him, to put an end to exactly?You caught a glimpse of his pants... My God, what are you thinking!Quickly looking away, even more nuzzling the guy's chest, you thought.

- Do you think I'm going to die?Donny asked suddenly.For a moment, a terrible picture appeared in your thoughts...Holding back tears , you squeezed out:

- I do not know, I do not want to talk about it.- you shrank even more, burrowed into his body, so that he wouldn't see you like this.

- And what do you want, Y/N?!- with a hit-and-run, the hot guy said and turned right at you with a frown.You looked up and your eyes met.He read the endless bitterness that you so wanted to hide from your friend.The bottomless eyes spoke for themselves, so Donowitz obediently returned to his previous position.He was hurt by how you suffer, and most importantly, how you hide it from him with all your might, if only he didn't feel bad.

Donny was silent and looked at the landscape of the city dear to him, the sun shone on his tense, from that truly masculine, face.The grass pricked your sides.You both needed a distraction.

- Hey, Donny.- you whispered, turning around.

-M? -he did the same, now your faces are almost close together so that the tips of your noses touch each other.Without saying anything, you timidly, uncertainly began to approach.The guy hesitated a little, instinctively leaning back, from which you stopped.But just a second later, he took the initiative and reached out to you.An unexpected and unusual feeling hit you both, a quick touch of the lips was enough to make goosebumps run all over your body.Pulling away, you looked into each other's eyes as passionately as ever and kissed again...and once again, each time penetrating deeper and deeper.It was like jumping into icy water, when the body thinks it's dying, but after holding out a little longer, it gets used to it and it gets warmer, it was exactly the same, but all these sensations were reduced to a couple of seconds.

Having reached the peak of your happiness, you decided that it was time to move to a new level.You didn't have to say anything, one look was enough, and, having received the same silent consent, you saddled your prince.It turned out that your shrine was located directly above his genital organ so that only Donowitz's pants separated you, it felt like being on a living mountain.

Donny undid all the remaining buttons on his shirt with one hand and stared at you intently, waiting for the next action.You, too, without taking your eyes off him, began to unbutton your shirt.Slowly, button by button, and he was staring at your hands with all his eyes, tense and at the same time very eager to see what he could only see in clothes up to the moment.Mom, how at that moment his penis persistently rested against you!

Having completely bared your top, you couldn't help but smile when you saw Donowitz's round eyes.So sweet and confused.

You stretched out the entire length of the Jew's torso, having previously held your hands from his stomach to his chest and neck, clasping the latter with both palms.He felt warm, dense breasts on him, which made him sweat all over (in every sense). Pulling up to his face, you hung over him a little.Lowering your hands, you returned them to the guy's chest and pressed your lips to the powerful neck, from which Donny let out a soft moan.Finding his hand, you lightly put it on your hip, it perfectly encircled him.You both sighed heavily because you knew what was going to happen now..

You started moving your pelvis, literally rolling your bend on Donowitz's penis, because of that, the boy threw his head back with a muffled exhalation.The hot air was coming out of you and heating the guy's neck, while you were already soaking wet.He couldn't stand the tightness in his pants first and, putting his hand under your dress, quickly unbuttoned them blindly.At the same moment, a hot and wet organ rested against your slit.He was more than ready to enter, your excited bodies were just burning with desire for each other.The guy helped him with his hand and oh my God, it really took time for him to fully enter.You haven't uttered a single loud sound all the time, but now you were literally torn apart.The simplest finding such an aggregate inside you made you moan and bend in all directions.Gritting his teeth and squeezing your thigh with his fingertips, Donny began to move, penetrating again and again.You reflexively shrank, and he hissed with pleasure, accelerating.

Even Donowitz himself was scared of such a heart-rending and erotic scream, and even more so you.You were making a sound in time with every thrust body on body, while the guy desperately tried to get air.With your insides, you feel his penis throbbing, and he himself is straining.Catching your eye, you look at him, after which you straighten up and he slips out of you, the guy did not have time to come to his senses as right there you quickly grabbed the organ under the skirt with your hand, in which he fit perfectly, and rapidly drive up and down.The world seemed to freeze and disappear, only the two of you and your voices remained.Voices full of young passionate love.Unintelligible sounds, endless muttering of each other's names, this pleading in the eyes of those looking at you.He stretches out to to kiss you, you are attracted in response.Another second and here ....

Your hand is covered with a warm thick liquid, spreading between the sticks and flowing down to the grass.Donny Donowitz leaves his last breath in you and blissfully falls to the ground.

After brushing yourself a little, you could only throw on a shirt and plop down to him.The sun is blinding you both, the birds are chirping over you, and the grass is also swaying silently in the wind.Everyone around you now is a true paradise just for the two of you...

"If you have a choice between life and death," you suddenly suddenly spoke, shaking the idyll of silence with your whisper."please choose to come back to me, Donny....

Exhausted, he smiled tenderly, it's a pity you could have seen it then.But he promises, taking you firmly by the tender hand, promises that before the choice he will choose you and only you...

•°°•°•°•°°•°•°°•°¥°¥

[staiyn]

I am currently sick at home, so who knows, maybe my inner writter comes out again 🫶👁👅👁

I’m in love with this photo.

[patrickswhore]

Donny Donowitz X Male Reader

A/n: I like to warp in and out of existence as I so please and you’re gonna have to live with that.

Also I know this might be very niche but Idaf

Another late night in the hideout was dragging on, the bastards had won yet another fight and a celebration was in its place. The boys were dancing, drinking, smoking, just enjoying themselves for once in a long time.

Donny sat on the ground, leaning against a crate full of bottles of water and booze. His cigarette hanging loosely from his lips as he looked at the young drunk man dancing in the damp and dark bunker. A long time without any form of female contact makes a man attracted to even the slightest bit of traditional femininity and the man dancing, boy was he a feast for the eyes. His face clean shaven, his hair a bit long, it was usually combed to the side or back but tonight it was flinging around loosely. He was shorter then Donny and he had a quite (body type) body. His body swayed from side to side to the music coming from the small record player and Donny was loving every second of it.

All the men were quite drunk and after about 20 minutes Donny and (Y/N) seemed the only ones still awake. (Y/N) had sat down on a crate on the other side of the room from Donny. The dark haired man rose clumsy from the ground and made his way over to the smaller man. He reached out his hand and slurred his words.

“Would you care to dance?” He asked, a small hiccup following.

The shorter man smiled and took his hand and standing up. Donny stumbled over to the record player and restarted the slow song before walking back and putting an arm around the other mans waist. (Y/N)’s hand rested on Donny’s shoulder as they held hands, slow dancing to the somber Dean Martin song (the song is everybody loves somebody ;) ).

Donny hugged (Y/N) close and rested his forehead on his shoulder as they continued to dance. It was nice to finally have someone close again, non violent physical contact was rare these days. The men slowed down and Donny lifted his head to look the other man in the eyes. They stared at each other as (Y/N)’s hand moved from his shoulder to his cheek, Donny leaning into the touch before moving closer to the other man, eventually locking lips with him. They shared a short but passionate and tender kiss before pulling apart and looking at each other again.

(Y/N) chuckled drunkenly before getting pulled back into another kiss, this one longer, more needy, more sexual. They backed up until (Y/N) hit the edge of one of the boys’ empty bed. He crawled up pulling Donny’s suspenders down and pulling his own shirt off, Donny doing the same and getting on top of the other man. They started to unbuckle their belts before they heard some rustling from one of the guys.

“Aww boys, you know I have nothing against yall at all but can you please do it some time when we’re not in the room?” Aldo groaned in a disgusted tone.

Donny sighed deeply before letting his head fall on (Y/N)’s shoulder who was still laying under him. (Y/N) muttered a small “damnit” as he drew circles with his finger on the back of Donny’s head. The bigger man fell besides the other in defeat as he hugged him close to him. The men spooned softly, blue balled as all hell.

The next morning

The men woke up still spooning. Donny was the first to wake up as his head and crotch pounded. It seemed like the blue balls was still going strong. He slowly got up and walked to the showers on the base, it wasn’t as much of a shower as it was a hose outside that you could prop up to simulate a shower.

He stood under the cold water and was “taking care of his business” if you catch my drift. As he neared his climax he couldn’t help but think of the smaller man under him from the little bits of pieces he remembered from last night. He cleaned up after himself and washed his hair before walking around the corner in only his towel and there he stood, the man he had just climaxed too the thought of, shirtless in only a towel as well.

“Listen Donny…. I don’t know what you remember from last night.. but I don’t regret it and I’m not ashamed of it..”

Donny thoughts was going 100 miles per hour as he tried to think of the right words.

‘Come on Donny, say something seductive’

“U-uhm, me neither”

“Glad we feel the same way” he said as he walked by him towards the showers. As they passed each other (Y/N) leaned in and kissed Donny teasingly on the cheek before moving on.

Donny stood gobsmacked for a few seconds before looking down to see himself erect once again.

“Fuck a duck”