#the amount of red we won’t comment on | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hopelesslygaysstuff · 1 year ago

Text

pairing: ceo!wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: Wanda brings you home and fucks you, claiming you as only hers over and over again. After tonight, everyone will know who you truly belong to.

content warnings: smut again, possessiveness, grinding, pillow humping, spanking, strap on, nipple clamps, choking, edging, overstimulation, mommy kink.

word count: 6.3k+

masterlist

Part 1: Fingers Are My Weakness

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

The Ultimate Weakness

The soft leather seat beneath you squeezed slightly as you settled in, Wanda closing the door for you as she made her way around the car. She had an unreadable look on her face, her back straight as you heard her heels click on the concrete floor of her parking garage.

Opening her door, Wanda slid into the driver's seat and started the car as the scent of her familiar vanilla perfume washed over you. You glanced over at her, taking in her red hair as it lay perfectly over her shoulder. Her jaw was sharp, eyes focused on her phone as she answered one last email for the night.

Green eyes met yours, and you startled as you realized that you’d been staring for quite some time. The ghost of a smirk formed on her lips, her lipstick still holding up even long after the workday had ended. Backing out of her parking spot, with a sign labeled Wanda Maximoff, she rested her hand gently on your thigh.

You relaxed, happy that she was continuing her habit even though she hadn’t had the best day. You remembered her telling you that she wouldn’t treat you any differently just because she wasn’t in a good mood, and something settled inside you as she continued to uphold her promise.

Her fingers squeezed, and you tore your gaze away from the road in front of you, choosing to admire her form in the dim lighting instead. Even to this day, after a couple years of loving her, your heart still skipped a beat whenever you laid eyes on her. Her eyes reflected the warm lighting of the street lamps as she sped out of the parking garage, one hand gripping the steering wheel in a relaxed manner as the other gently traced circles on your thigh.

Your peace was broken at the first red stoplight. As the car came to a stop, Wanda glanced over at you, her eyes dark as they roamed your face. Her hand moved dangerously high, almost touching your still sensitive core as you raised your eyebrows at her.

“Let’s play a game.” It wasn’t a suggestion, but rather, a command. You straightened up in your seat, anticipation filling you as Wanda explained the rules of the game. You were to put your hands beneath your thighs. She would continue stroking your thighs, and for every red light she stopped at, she would cup your pussy over your pants. You had the duration of that red light to grind against her hand as much as you wanted. As soon as the light turned green, she would move her hand back to your thighs.

“If you cum before we get home,” Wanda’s eyes glinted at you, the light turning green. The car accelerated. “I won’t punish you.”

It was an impossible feat, and she knew that. You couldn’t cum without her help, and you’d tried before. You didn’t know how she’d trained your body to only cum for her, but you weren’t complaining. Besides, your fingers never felt like enough after the first time she’d fucked you.

Still, you nodded obediently, thighs tensing in anticipation as you saw the next stoplight. The city was full of them, and you thanked your lucky stars that Wanda had purchased a home twenty minutes away in the suburbs.

“Red light, sweetheart,” Wanda murmured, the car coming to a stop. As promised, she moved her hand to cup your overheated pussy, pressure firm as she glanced between the light and your face.

You held back a whimper, slowly moving your hips. You were still sensitive from your orgasms back in the office, and slightly embarrassed at the amount of arousal leaking through your pants. You were sure that the fabric was damp, you could smell your arousal as it mixed with Wanda’s vanilla perfume.

Wanda, however, looked immensely pleased by this. The red glow on her face cast a sharp shadow, her lips upturned as her eyes watched you intently. You were glad the light was red, as it helped conceal your flush at her attention.

Green light washed over you, and you breathed deeply when Wanda removed her hand. Your clit throbbed uselessly, begging for more pressure. You manually slowed your heart rate, breathing in slowly and holding it for a few seconds before releasing it. You could tell that Wanda was pleased by your reaction, her fingers digging into your thigh slightly as she focused on the road.

Reaching over, you turned on the radio, needing some sort of distraction from the unbearable ache rising within you. Wanda glanced over, her face telling you that she knew what you were doing, but she didn’t stop you.

Soft jazz filled the car, and you settled back into your seat as your arousal simmered. At least she wasn’t teasing you with pressure against the place you ended her most anymore. Her hand remained firmly on your thigh, not moving as-

Oh great, another red light.

Her hand returned to the center of your thighs, your pussy convulsing uselessly as you desperately ground against her hand. You needed more, and Wanda knew that. She made no moves to help you, simply watching as you forced your hands to stay under your thighs while rutting against her palm.

Green light.

—

You resisted the urge to slam your head against the back of your seat. Of course, the one light near your shared home was red. Wanda’s hand was once again cupping you, your juices having soaked the fabric of your pants a while ago. You hoped that you wouldn’t ruin the nice leather of your girlfriend’s car, but the thought soon fled from your mind as you lost yourself in the mindless pleasure you received from grinding fruitlessly against Wanda’s hand.

“Almost home, darling,” Wanda said. You resisted the urge to curse at her. “You haven’t cum yet, how… disappointing.”

A groan left you as the light turned green, your orgasm just barely within your grasp. That was your last chance to cum, and you gained control of your erratic heartbeat with a few more deep breaths. You were sure that you’d cut off circulation to your hands with how hard you’d pressed them beneath your thighs, but you really didn’t want to break one of Wanda’s rules.

After all, she was already going to punish you for not coming, you might as well not add to the punishment. Besides, you could tell that her mood was changing the whole ride home. Whenever her eyes weren’t locked on you during a red light, they were distant and unfocused.

You knew your girlfriend well enough to know that she was replaying Hailey’s advances on you over and over in her mind. She was probably overanalyzing the women’s body language from when she’d caught the two of you in Wanda’s office, her mind replaying the way Hailey’s eyes had roamed your body hungrily before widening in fear from the look her boss was directing at her.

At first, you thought she was upset. But, Wanda was rarely upset with you, not unless you had done something to deliberately anger her, and you hadn’t done anything like that in a long time. So, you surmised that she must just be reverting to her possessive side, letting her thoughts take over until the only thing she wanted to do was claim you as hers.

You weren’t averse to the idea, but the last time Wanda had gone on a possessive rampage of your body, she’d left bruises for weeks, and you hadn’t been able to walk properly for days.

The car turned down a familiar road, and you prepared yourself for a long night ahead.

“Are you hungry?” Wanda asked, and your brain halted.

Why would she ask if you were hungry? You knew what she was going to do to you, was this some sort of trick? Another aspect of her game?

Peering hesitantly over at her, you saw nothing but genuine care in her eyes, and you berated yourself for thinking the worst. Nodding, you watched her as she parked the car, gathering her bag before walking over to your door.

It was quite cute, the way she refused to let you open your own door. Plus, you loved the casual dominance she exuded throughout your daily life, so there were no complaints from you.

Walking into your shared home, as Wanda held the door open for you, you half expected her to slam you against the wall with fierce kisses and a steady thigh between your legs. However, she did nothing of the sort, seemingly forgetting her promise of punishment as she deposited her bag in her home office, kissed you softly, and began to prepare a small dinner for the two of you.

You poured some wine, setting the table for two as you made sure the cutlery was straight and the napkins were on the center of each plate. Watching as Wanda brings over a bowl of chicken salad, you smile at her, a warm glow filling you as she smiles back.

The two of you make small talk, and you’re careful not to mention anything about Hailey as you talk about your work day. Wanda’s eyes still darken slightly every time you mention being trained since she knows exactly who trained you, but she doesn’t comment.

Eventually, your plates are cleared. Wanda nurses her wine, sipping slowly as you continue to ramble about your day. She watches you with a small smile, her eyes roaming your figure as your hands move excitedly while speaking. Nodding at the appropriate times and humming periodically, she doesn't let her inner thoughts show.

Wanda can’t stop thinking about the way that fucking girl looked at you. Lust-filled eyes staring at your body even as you were perched on Wanda’s lap. Hands twitching when she saw the multitude of bruises littering your delicate neck, tempted to reach out and take you from Wanda.

She couldn’t have that.

You’ve finished speaking, your hands playing nervously with your fork as you watch Wanda’s eyes darken. She’s lost in thought, her green eyes staring into her glass as she slowly finishes the last bit of wine. Seemingly shaking herself out of her thoughts, her gaze slowly makes its way up your body until it reaches your face.

Jerking her head, Wanda wordlessly commands you to go to the bedroom. You immediately stand, stopping only to kiss her softly on the lips. Her hand twitches, fingers reaching towards you, but you’re already moving away. Knowing what’s expected of you, you leave your girlfriend to clear the table as you make your way up the stairs.

You’re quick and efficient, discarding your clothes and folding them neatly before dropping them near the door. You take a few breaths, calming your racing heartbeat and smiling at the sticky juices you can feel already running down your inner thighs. Wanda was going to love that.

Kneeling, you get in position near the foot of the bed just as you hear Wanda’s heels clicking up the stairs. Another wave of wetness leaks out, and you remind yourself to be patient. Knowing your girlfriend, you weren’t going to cum for a while tonight.

The door opens, Wanda’s frame filling the doorway as she slowly steps inside. It's hard to read her expression in the dim lighting of your bedroom, but you watch her out of the corner of your eye as she makes her way towards the bed.

“Come here.” Her voice is velvet, just barely loud enough for you to hear. Your ears strain slightly, but you hear her command.

“Yes, mommy.” You’re obedient, your tone submissive as you turn towards her. Wanda hadn’t commanded you to stand, so you remain kneeling as you slowly shuffle towards her. She’s seated on the bed, her hands beckoning you closer and pulling up upwards as your body goes limp, pliant in her grasp as she maneuvers you over her lap.

You barely register your position, euphoria taking over you as your bare skin comes in contact with Wanda’s body. You can feel the heat emanating from her thighs as you're bent over them, and you relish in it even as a small part of your mind dreads the punishment that is sure to come.

Wanda doesn’t give you much warning, her hand kneading the supple flesh of your bottom before suddenly disappearing. It is only seconds later that you realize she’s started spanking you, her hand leaving a scorching heat on your ass. You realize that she’s elected to keep her rings on, the pain stinging sharper than usual as the metal hits your skin.

“Why am I doing this, sweetheart?” The question pulls your mind out of the comfortable vanilla haze it was in, and you blink furiously as you attempt to form a response. Her hand comes down again and again, evidently dissatisfied with your lack of words.

“Um,” You scramble, hands gripping the sheet in front of you as you try not to reach behind you to swat her hands away. That would only lead to restraints, and you’d rather keep Wanda’s hands on you, even if it brought pain.

You practically shout for joy when your brain finally starts working, your answer coming out in between broken moans and gasps, Wanda’s hand unrelenting. “Because, fuck. I didn’t cum in the car and- Um… Hailey,” A particularly harsh slap is delivered, and you vow to never speak that name again.

“She,” You correct yourself, “...made me miss your texts.”

You can tell that Wanda is unhappy with your answer, the blows raining down slightly harder than before. You’re quick to speak, not wanting to upset her further.

“I’m sorry mommy, I shouldn’t have… shit. I ignored you, and that wasn’t fair to you. I’m so sorry, please. I…” Your voice catches, Wanda’s rings burning into your skin as she continues her assault on your bottom. You’re almost certain that you’ll be bruised for the next few weeks.

“Hailey…”

“I never want to hear that name again.” Wanda’s voice is soft, her tone deadly and filled with venom as she briefly pauses. “Do you understand?”

Nodding, you squirm fruitlessly in her lap. You hear a humorless laugh above you and know that Wanda isn’t impressed by your efforts to escape. Her hand returns, somehow harsher than before. Every nerve in your body is on fire, pain and pleasure mixing together as she rains blow after blow onto your skin.

A brief interlude.

“I shouldn’t have chosen her over you.” You blurt out, desperate to stop the assault on your sensitive flesh. You also really want Wanda to understand just how sorry you are, and you nearly sob in relief when she pauses, her fingers stroking over your inflamed skin.

“Explain.”

You compose yourself, wanting to articulate your next words carefully. “I…” You wish you could see Wanda’s face, but settle for reading body language instead. “I made you wait, because I presumed that my training was more important than you. I know better, you come first, before anything. I forgot myself, and in doing so, chose that girl over you.”

The only sound in the room is your deep breaths as you grit your teeth against the red-hot pain emanating from your ass, Wanda’s fingernails scraping against your over-sensitive skin as she thinks. She knows it’s not your fault, she can’t be upset at you for doing your job.

But the thought of losing you, it's almost too much to bear.

Waves of jealousy overcome her, visions of a different woman touching you, fucking you, loving you threatening to drown her. Wanda barely registers your whimpers, her fingers squeezing your flesh, your nerves frayed badly as you attempt to get her attention.

“Wanda, I need you to calm down, love.” The words wrap around Wanda’s ears, a soothing melody amid her mental war.

Green eyes refocus, darting down to your trembling form. You haven’t moved, submission evident as you force your body to remain still. Your face is turned, eyes peeking up at her and filled with concern and so much devotion that Wanda feels slightly off balance.

“Undress me, darling” Her words are barely a whisper, an unspoken plea interwoven with the command. You understand, you always do.

Wanda needs to know that you’re still hers, and you’re more than happy to provide that reassurance. You remove yourself from her lap, standing before her and steadfastly ignoring the ache beneath your flesh. Cupping her face, your touch is reverent as you tilt her head up towards you.

Your eyes meet hers, and you shiver at the spark that travels down your spine. Slowly, your hands move down her neck, fingers running along the steady pulse you find. You move further, hands caressing her collarbones before moving to undo the top button of her dress shirt.

The urge to kiss her is strong, but you hold eye contact, knowing exactly what Wanda needs at this moment. Refusing to break eye contact, you remain steadfast in your efforts to undress her, fingers flying as you undo the last button of her shirt. Slipping the expensive material off her shoulders, you throw it somewhere behind you.

Goosebumps erupt as you trail your fingers over her skin, fingers tenderly sliding alongside her bra. Your touch is reinvigorating and frustrating all in one, and Wanda pushes down the impatience that rises quickly within her. She focuses instead on you, feeling the gentle strokes of your hands as you unclip her bra, gently removing the garment before setting it aside.

Your face is full of wonder, as if you’re seeing her body for the first time all over again. You look like that every time, Wanda realizes, and she feels her jealousy fade as the evidence of your love overtakes her thoughts.

“Beautiful.” You mutter, breathless as you trace a heated path over her skin with only your eyes. You glance up, noting Wanda’s blown pupils as she watches you. “You’re absolutely breathtaking, my love.”

Wanda’s breath hitches, and you smile gently at her. Fingers move slightly faster now, unbuttoning her slacks and pulling her pants down her legs while she lifts her hips to assist you.

It’s as though you’re unwrapping a present, fingers excited and careful at the same time. You kneel, nose scraping along her inner thigh as you slowly peel her underwear away from her soaked pussy. Wanda can’t find an ounce of shame within her, not when you’re looking at her like she’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

You remain keeling, your hands tracing nonsensical paths along her skin as Wanda regains control over her mind. She just about loses her composure when she meets your eyes again, the amount of love shining through them overwhelming.

“Do you want to cum?” Wanda asks, and you duck your head, cheeks flaming. Finally, the upper hand she’d been waiting for.

Nodding sheepishly, you become aware again of your aching desperation as you shift slightly. Your thighs rub together, and suddenly the only thing you can think of is how badly you want Wanda to fuck you.

“Please.” You rasp, biting your lip at the hungry look that appears in Wanda’s eyes.

“Prove it.” Is all Wanda says, her hand grasping a pillow before shoving it towards you. You take it, confusion welling up as you watch her move. She rests herself against the headboard, green eyes never leaving you as she beckons you closer.

Standing, you move towards the bed, spurred on by Wanda’s encouraging head nods. She holds out her hand, curling her fingers towards her as she ushers you closer. You hold the pillow in front of you, a small inkling of realization making its way into your vanilla haze-filled brain as your eyes widen.

“You want me to…” Trailing off, you position the pillow beneath you, thighs spread on either side of it. Wanda nods, her hands falling back onto her thighs as her eyes watch your swollen pussy come in contact with the soft fabric.

“Yes, sweetheart,” She murmurs, eyes lighting up when you begin rocking your hips into the pillow. “Prove to mommy how badly you want to cum.”

A moan erupts from you, your throat vibrating as it escapes. You move faster, hips rutting furiously against the pillow, knowing that you won’t be able to cum from the action. Unfortunately, Wanda had trained your body to only cum at her command, and with her touch. Normally you didn’t care, seeing as she took good care of you. But now? You were more than frustrated by your lack of ability to cum by yourself.

“Please,” You gasp, pleasure rolling through you as pain ricochets alongside it. The pillow brushes against the inflamed flesh of your ass, sending jolts of arousal straight to your clit as it pulses widely.

Breathing heavily, you stare at Wanda with wide eyes. Her gaze is unflinching, locked on you as she watches you move desperately against the pillow. Your actions are futile, the ability to cum is beyond your capabilities at this moment, and Wanda delights in that knowledge.

Moans reverberate in your chest, the sound bouncing around the room as Wanda shifts slightly, her thighs dampening from arousal. The sight of you rutting against a pillow at her command sends her spiraling headfirst into a state of desperation and possessiveness. She attempts to keep a level head, fingers twitching against her thighs as she watches.

Then, you start begging.

“Mommy,” It’s pitiful, and so fucking arousing. “Pl.. please mommy, I wanna cum so bad for you. I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you earlier. I swear I didn’t do anything wrong, I just wanna be a good girl for you. Please let me cum, I’ll do anything.”

Your eyes unglaze slightly, focusing on her. Wanda feels pride slink into her chest at your next words. “I promise, I’ll do anything.”

Raising a single eyebrow, reaches over to the dresser and pulls open a single drawer. You try not to salivate, knowing that the contents of that drawer are meant to bring either immense pleasure or unbearable pain.

Wanda’s fingers wrap around a thick strapon, the scarlet color teasing you as your mouth falls open. You’ve only played with that toy once before, and Wanda hadn’t held back, the size nearly splitting you in half as the toy reached places in your pussy you didn’t know existed.

“Mommy…” Your voice is hesitant, but Wanda just smirks at you as she fastens the strap around her waist.

“Anything, remember?” Her voice is teasing, but there’s a slight edge to it warning you to behave. “You promised, darling.”

You take in a shaky breath, nodding slowly as you continue to grind against the pillow. Wanda’s fingers are quick, expertly tightening the strap of her harness as you watch with an equal amount of growing anticipation and fear.

“I want you to ride me.” Wanda’s expectant, her hands already reaching towards you. The pillow is ripped out from under you, a groan leaving your lips as the pleasure fades. Before you can complain, Wanda is grabbing your hips and pulling you onto her lap, rubbing the tip of her strap against your leaking pussy.

You know what she wants, and can’t find it in yourself to deny her, so you open your mouth and start begging. “Please let me ride your cock, mommy. I’ve been really good so far, and I just want you to make me feel good. Please? I… I promised you.”

Your hands make their way towards her face, but Wanda simply raises an eyebrow at you. Sheepishly, you move your hands behind your back, linking your fingers together. Wanda makes a pleased humming sound, a small smirk appearing on those beautiful lips before her hands are rough around your hips and slamming you down onto her strap.

It’s not that you weren’t expecting it, or that you weren’t wet enough to take it. It’s the fact that Wanda is so fucking rough as she urges your hips to move faster while rutting her hips upwards. It only makes you want her more.

The sound of Wanda’s strap fucking you fills the room, your juices sliding down the toy and soaking her thighs. The moans that fall from your lips sound like strangled whines, with broken pleas and gasps mixed in. It’s the prettiest thing Wanda’s ever heard.

“You’re mine.” Wanda’s voice is low, her eyes watching your face intently as it contorts in pleasure. Her fingers dig into your waist, her nails leaving small crescent-shaped indents when she finally moves them upwards. You continue to fuck yourself on her strap, the burning pleasure rolling through you as her fingers begin to pinch and twist your nipples.

“Yes, mommy…” The words slip out of you, your head feeling vaguely heavy as you move to rest your forehead against Wanda’s shoulder. You feel her lips attach themselves to your neck, sharp bolts of electricity traveling from your sensitive nipples down to your throbbing clit with every clever twist of her fingers.

You barely even realize the absence of her fingers as you moan freely into her collarbone. The sensation of her thick strap sliding in and out of you at a rapid pace is nearly sending you over the edge, one of her hands threading through your hair while the other rummages around in the drawer.

Metal clinks, and you jolt, recognizing the sound. Wanda’s laugh is humorless and dry, sounding harshly in your ear as she yanks your head away from her shoulder. “Remember these?”

The nipple clamps swing innocently from her fist, the delicate metal chains glinting at you as you shakily nod your head.

“Color, sweetheart.”

Your eyes jerk back towards Wanda, mind raging as you continue to mindlessly impale yourself on her strap. Your fingers clench together, unwilling to disobey your girlfriend by moving.

“Green.” You answer, and Wanda smirks.

Moving quickly, deft fingers attach the nipple clamps to your hardened buds. You barely even register the pain, your focus centered around the strap disappearing between your thighs. A firm hand presses against your sternum, pushing your upper half backward.

You move your hands, your fingers releasing their tight grip in favor of gripping onto Wanda’s strong thighs. The approving look in your girlfriend's eyes tells you that no rules were broken, and a high-pitched whimper escapes you at the new angle as your body weight shifts.

Wanda’s strap is somehow thrusting impossibly deeper into you, pressing against your g-spot and sending tremors throughout your body. Your nipples are on fire, the metal clamps attached feeling like a live wire as Wanda tugs intermittently on them. Her mouth has returned to your sweat-soaked skin, teeth sharp as she litters your breasts with dark bruises.

“I, please. You… It's too much. Mommy, I can’t…” Your words only seem to spur Wanda on, one hand returning to your hip and forcing the strap deeper into the wet heat of your pussy. The way she tugs on the nipple clamps is almost aggressive, stretching your poor skin as far as it will allow and biting into the sensitive flesh of your breasts.

Wanda straightens, a sadistic gleam in her eye as she pushes you further back. Your arms shake with the effort it takes to support yourself on her thighs, but you don’t let it deter you, your hips moving faster than before.

“Can I cum, mommy?” You ask, holding your breath as you watch Wanda contemplate her answer.

“Fine,” She starts, and you feel your orgasm creep up on you as you force your hips further down her strap. There’s a raspiness in her voice as she finishes, “But I’m not stopping.”

You don’t understand at first. You can tell that Wanda is pleased and slightly amused by the confused expression plastered on your face, her hips still rapidly slamming her strap up into you as she twists the delicate chain of the nipple clamps between her fingers.

She pulls quickly, her hips snapping roughly against you as the strap hits your g-spot perfectly, sending you over the edge. The nipple clamps tug against your nipples, Wanda pulling them completely off in one smooth movement.

The pain doesn’t register for a moment, your orgasm washing over you in powerful waves as you convulse on top of Wanda's thighs, your hips stilling as your pussy clenches around her strap. Then, the liquid fire from your sensitive, raw nipples shoots through you.

It's like ice-cold water was dumped on you, your body going rigid as you grip Wanda’s solid thighs tightly. Your nipples are aching, mind-numbingly hard as pleasure mixed with pain courses through you. Your clit pulsates fiercely, wanting stimulation as Wanda fucks you through your orgasm.

A few curse words escape you, but Wanda doesn’t seem to mind as she tosses the nipple clamps somewhere onto the floor, the metal hitting the carpet with a soft thunk. Her arms wrap solidly around your waist, her body weight shifting as she twists the two of you until you’re beneath her.

The strap disappears, and you try not to whine as Wanda manhandles your body into position. You’re flipped over onto your stomach, your head pressed into a soft pillow as your arms are moved above your head. Wanda’s hands press your wrists into the pillow, reminding you silently to keep still as she nudges your thighs apart with her knees.

Strong hands grip your hips, pulling your ass up as you feel the wet silicone of Wanda’s strap nudge your pussy. Your walls flutter, and you barely have any time to process the new position before Wanda’s hips thrust her strap into you in one solid stroke.

“Fuck, you take me so well,” Wanda gasps, one hand gripping your hip as the other tangles with your hair and presses your further into the pillow. You turn your face, sucking in deep breaths as Wanda fucks you through your first orgasm.

A second, more powerful orgasm rises, and you squirm violently beneath Wanda. You’ve already cum too many times today, your clit sore and throbbing even as your pussy walls clench down greedily on Wanda’s strap.

“I’m- fuck. Gonna cum… again. Mommy, please?” You barely hear yourself, the roar in your ears too loud as you feel yourself tip over that proverbial ledge once again.

Wanda says something, but you can’t make out what she says. You’re aware of her hands on your wrists, pulling them down from the pillow and trapping them against the arch of your back. From this position, Wanda has more leverage.

The strap continues to fuck roughly into you, milking your pleasure until it turns slightly painful. Any protests die on the tip of your tongue as your face is pressed further into the soft pillow. A third orgasm emerges, pulled from your g-spot as the tip of Wanda’s strap caresses it over and over again.

“I’m so proud of you, honey. You’re doing so good for mommy, can you cum for me again? It would make me really happy.” Wanda’s panting, her words flowing smoothly as she lets out a few grunts of pleasure.

The base of her strap is hitting her clit perfectly, and that in addition to watching you fall apart has her on the edge of her own orgasm. You moan loudly in response, your body tensing as your legs shake, your hips rutting against the mattress when your third orgasm hits you.

Muffled moans sound out, and Wanda lets her orgasm wash over her, hips stuttering against the backs of your thighs. She feels a gush of wetness coat her and glances down to see your cum leaking out around her strap.

It’s too much, arousal flaring in Wanda’s gut as she fucks you through your orgasm even as her own clit pulsates wildly against the soft leather of her harness. As nice as her own orgasm feels, nothing ever compares to the rush she gets from watching you fall apart beneath her.

“One more for me, darling,” Wanda says, flipping you over again, her hands rough around your waist as she quickly re-inserts her strap into your dripping pussy.

You stare up at her, eyes wide and unfocused, and Wanda feels another orgasm creep up on her. She fucks you harder, and you moan lowly as her strap reaches new parts inside you that send pleasure coursing through your veins.

Another orgasm. You barely even react, your nerves frayed at this point. You hope that she’ll stop soon, but knowing Wanda, she won’t stop until she’s satisfied.

“You’re doing so good for me, love. I’m so proud.” She says, pressing a vibrator against your clit. You don't know when she pulled that toy out, time blending in a vanilla haze as you pant and moan uselessly beneath her, but you can’t find it in yourself to complain.

Another orgasm, your hips jerking under her ministrations. The vibrator is only at a medium speed but sends bolts of pain through you as a deep ache settles in your body. You need to cum again, and dread the moment you fall over the edge once more.

You cum, pain overtaking the heat of pleasure as your nerves set on fire. Your muscles tremble, breaths shallow as you utter a simple ‘yellow.’

Wanda slows the vibrator down, eyes searching yours as her hips come to a halt. Her next words are clear, reverberating around your brain as you process, “One more time for me, darling. Can you do that?”

Nodding, you breathe deeply. Your head feels light, your body weightless as Wanda increases the speed of her thrusts again. It’s not as intense as before, but just enough to coax a final orgasm out of you.

Strong fingers wrap around your throat, applying pressure against your neck as you go slightly lightheaded. It only feeds into the fuzzy feeling you’ve been in, your eyes rolling back as you cum violently.

The strap disappears, your pussy walls fluttering fruitlessly as you whine pathetically. Wanda’s fingers discard the vibrator, shutting it off before moving to caress your tear-stained cheeks. You hadn’t even realized you were crying.

The overwhelming orgasm fades, and you shudder beneath Wadna’s comforting weight as she gently removes the strap from around her hips. Soft kisses are pressed into your damp skin, strong hands kneading your sore muscles as you tremble.

A strong vanilla scent invades your senses, and you feel yourself become more alert as Wanda begins gently lathering some lotion onto your raw nipples. She’s speaking, her voice low, and you strain your ear to hear her.

“I’m so proud of you, darling. I’m not upset with you, I know you didn't do anything wrong.” She pauses, her hands gentle as she finishes spreading the lotion over your nipples. “I just get possessive over you, I can’t imagine losing you. Even the thought is enough to send me spiraling.”

You wish you had the capability to respond, but Wanda glances at you, her eyes softening when she sees the understanding on your face. A small smile spreads on those lips, the ones you desperately wish you could taste, and a bottle of aloe vera appears in your peripheral vision.

Hoisting yourself up, you turn over onto your stomach. Presenting your red, raw backside to Wanda, you sigh as she gently applies a generous amount of the soothing gel onto your overheated skin. You know that you’ll be sore for days to come, but you don’t find yourself minding that much.

After all, if Wanda didn't get jealous sometimes, you’d be worried that she didn’t want you.

Soft lips press against yours, and you sigh into Wanda’s mouth as your hands come up to play with her hair. A gentle tongue swipes your bottom lip, almost apologetic, and you practically melt against her.

“I have a gift for you,” Wanda says, pulling away even as her lips chase after yours. She seems almost nervous, and you nod excitedly at her even as a yawn hits you.

“It’ll be quick, I promise.” Her eyes are crinkled at the edges, and you’re glad that she finds humor in the situation. You’re too fucked out and exhausted to think too much, and Wanda quickly reaches into the bottom drawer of your dresser.

When she straightens up, an item lays innocently in her hands. Your heart rate picks back up at the sight, eyes eagerly taking in the collar dangling from her fingertips.

“I…” Your voice cracks, and you feel a blush spread across your face as Wanda smiles at you. “I love it, thank you.”

Tenderly, you reach out and take the collar. Your touch is reverent, turning the soft leather over in your palms as you inspect it. It's beautiful, a deep red, with a simple gold tag attached to the loop in the front.

Written in a delicate font, the words Wanda’s Good Girl are engraved on the heart-shaped tag. You smile, one hand grasping onto Wanda’s shoulder as you pull her in for a hug, tucking your chin into the crook of her neck.

You truly couldn’t be happier. You’d been waiting for this moment, and had many conversations with Wanda about the idea of a collar. This was true ownership, but if you were honest with yourself, Wanda had owned your heart from the moment you met her.

“Also,” Wanda begins, her voice leaving no room for argument. “I’m promoting you to my personal assistant.”

You smile, allowing yourself to be pulled under the sheets as Wanda pulls you flush against her body. It’s her favorite way to cuddle, and you simply wrap your arms firmly around her as sleep threatens to overtake you. You mutter against her skin, not entirely sure that she can hear you, but Wanda understands perfectly.

“That sounds perfect, my love.”

---

Dm or comment to be added!

Taglist: @alexawynters @msvenablesbitch @marilynthornhilllover @lifespectator @milkeeteaa @imnotawitch @marvels--slut @justabrokensunshine @dorabledewdroop @wandsmxmff

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jamilynfx · 4 months ago

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Do You Wanna Build a Snowman? (No, the fuck, I don't)

This is part 2 of this post 💖

Summary: Winter has come to New York and that means only two things: being cold and putting up with Wade's obsession with the movie Frozen.

Pairings: Logan Howlett x Wade Wilson x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.6K

Warnings: sexual humor, mentions of oral sex, referenced drug use

Winter.

A time for singing carols, decorating a Christmas tree and eating unhealthy amounts of gingerbread. For some, an ideal season for various, cold-oriented activities that include skiing, snowball fighting or drinking hot chocolate right after ice-skating on the overpriced ice-rinks in the city center.

You hate it all passionately.

Well, maybe decorating a Christmas tree is somewhat enjoyable and worth looking forward to but other activities that require being outside during winter are a hard no for you.

Which brings you to the problem you encounter every other time that the weather decides it’s high time to spawn tons of snow in the city, or, more accurately, a problem with Wade’s obsession over that godforsaken children’s movie.

“Do you wanna build a snooooowmaaan?! COME ON, LET’S GO AND PLAY.”

Logan growls for, what seems to be, the hundredth time in an hour. Al looks defeated and only Laura completely ignores Wade’s crazy bouncing and twirling in favor of cutting out a perfect circle out of the cookie dough.

“Shut the fuck up, bub. No one wants to build a snowman with you,” Logan grumbles lowly, getting the volume all the way up on the TV, since it’s difficult to hear anything through Wade’s singing.

Laura makes a face.

“Ouch, that was a bit harsh, even for you.”

“Sorry if I’ve had enough of this performance that’s going on for two hours now!” he exclaims heatedly but without real irritation behind it. That’s his way of saying that Wade really got on his nerves and he’s almost reached his daily limit for Wade’s bullshit.

“It’s fine, Lo, don’t shout,” you say with love, cutting out your own shape in a dough, a crooked star with rough, uneven edges. Making cookies is something that you enjoy doing, mostly because it’s all done inside the house, not outside, where all hell breaks loose. “Why don’t you go by yourself, Wade?”

He looks kinda cute with Elsa’s costume he’s thrown on his suit and a plastic tiara set atop a blond wig he’s stitched to his head but hearing the same song being performed over and over again starts to tug on your nerves, too, especially when you know Wade is completely serious in saying he wants to build a snowman.

“Because it’s BOOOORING! I would ask Al, but, well, she can’t fucking see, can you imagine what the snowman would look like if I did that with her? A fucking carrot up his ass, that’s what would happen! And the only snow she likes ain’t the one outside, hot pups.”

Al, sitting beside Logan on the couch, sighs loudly and nudges Logan’s side with her elbow.

“What’s on now?”

“Hot pups?” you question, raising your brows and smiling at Laura, who tries not to laugh.

“That’s new,” Logan comments on a nickname that Wade’s just made up, simultaneously switching between the channels. “A western, soap opera or reality…”

“Reality!” Both Al and Laura are unanimous on this one. Logan changes the channel to trash reality tv without any protest.

“Exactly, hot pups or baby girl, that’s basically the same thing. Anyway, I’m not asking Laura because she’s our guest and I for sure won’t ask peanut, don’t wanna end up with that claws up my ass today. Something else would be fine, tho.” Wade winks to Logan who only rolls his eyes, not once looking in Wade’s direction. “I was gonna ask you but you hate winter activities, besides that one time when you sucked my dick in the park after we went to a Jonas Brothers concert.”

You almost get a whiplash from the way your head turns to look at him, your cheeks immediately turning a deep shade of red.

“Wade!”

Althea looks visibly disgusted, Laura blinks a few times muttering damn under her breath and Logan stares at you with and you haven’t done that to me? look on his face. You stifle an urge to run to the bathroom and not come out for the rest of the evening, covering your face with your hands.

“Motherfucker, I wish I was deaf,” Al laments out loud with Wade’s sick laughter as her background before he starts do you wanna build a snowman all over again.

“Someone has to go out and build that damn snowman with him, I can’t hear a fucking thing!” Logan shouts abuse, his patience running thin judging by the way his claws unsheathe in his left hand.

“Rock, paper, scissors?” Laura suggests good-naturedly for you to only whine in surrender. That’s enough chaos for this evening.

“No, I’ll go with him,” you sigh with exasperation and get up to go get dressed. “But you’re soooo going down on me after this, Wade!”

As soon as the sentence leaves your mouth, Wade squeaks excitedly, running to get his brand-new Frozen mittens, which he managed to yank out of a little girl’s hands while you were at the thrift store last week.

“You got it, baby girl!” he exclaims and high-fives Laura on his way out, not waiting for you to catch up. You can only hear his do you wanna build a snowman while he hurries down the stairs of your compound.

Al, Laura and Logan all seem to breathe out in relief, focusing all their attention on the TV show that’s currently on.

Even Mary doesn’t perk up from Logan’s lap and you can’t help but feel a little bit betrayed.

______________

You have to admit, it’s not all that bad.

Wade does everything in his power to make it enjoyable for you, despite the low temperature and cold wind that blows in your face every other minute. There’s a lot of snow outside which makes for a really long snowman-building session, turning Wade into a literal five year old, but he still manages to make you laugh multiple times. You can’t really be cross with him when he’s having such a good time and, after your initial reluctance, you find yourself having a great time, too.

The snowman turns out really cute and quite big, three sizable balls of snow each atop of the other, now standing guard in front of the entrance to your building. Somewhere between creating the top ball and sticking branches into the snowman’s sides to imitate arms, Laura comes down and says goodbye, reminding you both how late it is and that you should probably wrap the whole thing up.

Now, you’re so cold it’s difficult to think straight. Your hands are shaking, teeth clattering and you’re sure that your lips have the color of a ripe plum.

“We’ve made one hell of a snowman together, baby girl.”

Your body trembles involuntarily but you smile happily, once again inspecting your work.

“Yeah, we did.”

Wade hugs you closely and kisses your forehead, then your blue lips.

“Come on, hot pups, let’s get you back to the warmth.”

Thank god you don’t have to go far. As soon as you’re back in the apartment, you ditch your shoes and outside clothes, which makes you feel even colder than when you were outside. It’s quiet inside, which means that Al is probably already asleep. Wade is somewhere behind you when you find Logan already in bed, Mary snuggled in between his legs, your old man reading a book.

“All done? How was it?” he asks, setting the book aside and immediately raising the covers for you to join him.

“COLD! Fuck!”

You jump on the bed, choosing the quickest way to find yourself in Logan’s warm arms. Mary definitely doesn’t approve, getting her little ass up and pattering towards Wade, who has just entered the room.

“Fuckin’ A, that’s what our snowman is, peanut,” he says, taking Mary up into his arms, kissing her and then setting her back on the bed to undress properly. Logan gives him a foul look.

“She’s freezing, you idiot,” he grumbles at Wade, then smiles at you encouragingly. “Come ‘ere, bub,” Logan spurs you on, opening his arms for you and offering his chest to be your private pillow. You gladly accept, letting your body tremble and your teeth clatter as much as they want to while snuggling up in Logan’s embrace, your cold arms finding their way onto his back, your head falling into place half on his shoulder and half on his chest, allowing you to glue the front of your cold body to his heated one. He weaves his fingers into your hair while his other palm comes to rest on your waist, pulling you as close as it’s physically possible.

Wade follows quickly behind to lock you in between them. When glorious heat starts radiating from both of them, enveloping you on both sides, you sigh contentedly, kissing up Logan’s chest, then finding the best slot for your cheek and straight up fawning on Logan.

“I still want that head, asshole,” you mumble already half-asleep, feeling Wade’s hands roam over your legs and belly when he’s aligning himself with your back, covering your body with his and slowly heating you up from behind, making you melt against him. He throws his arm over your body to reach Logan, who growls warningly.

“One day, I’m biting it off, you fucker.”

“Yeah, do it, it’s gonna grow back anyway, Wolvie,” Wade says mockingly, then trails the kisses behind your ear. “I’ll wake you up with it, snookums. Deal?” he asks, his low tone is making you shiver but this time it’s not out of cold.

You smile dreamily, pressing your butt into his hips.

“Deal.”

#deadpool and wolverine #poolverine #poolverine x reader #deadpool x wolverine x reader #deadpool 3 #wade wilson x reader #wade wilson x you #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #writing #mine

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ynsbarbbb · 7 months ago

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down bad | d. ricciardo

hypothesis - daniel is not ready nor is he willing to leave this thing behind.

pairing - daniel ricciardo x fem!baker!reader

[fic is inspired by “down bad” by taylor swift]

“fuck it if i can’t have us, i might just not get up, i might stay down bad”

“y/n,” your name slipped past his lips in a devastated sigh, eyes big as he stared at you. brown orbs drowning in a pool of tears.

a big, red suitcase sat on your bed, clothes haphazardly thrown around and you, sitting there on the foot end of the bed, messy hair surrounding your face and one of your favourite tops scrunched up in your hands.

daniel’s feet is glued to the hardwood floor by the door, his mind swimming, “wh—what are you doing?”

he looks around the room, your belongings, their familiar spots now empty. a sob escapes your mouth and you crumble from the edge of the bed down to the floor, ankles crossing and knees bucking up.

“i can’t do this anymore, daniel.”

his feet moves him to crouch in front of you, “baby, what are you talking about?”

you look up at him, “this,” you gesture around you with your hand, “the spotlight, the constant hate, the amount of time you leave.”

“let’s talk about it, yeah?” daniel asked, his voice hoarse. he’s swallowing at the lump in his throat, as he moves to sit down.

chuckling, you throw the top to the side, “what’s there to talk about? i’m a baker, i bake cakes, in a small town. and you,” you sniff and wipe your nose with the back side of your hand, “you travel the world, you race, everyone knows about you.”

he nods, “baby, i still don’t see the problem here.”

“i’m out of your league, i’m so far out of your league. i don’t fit into this lifestyle, i can’t flaunt money anywhere i go.”

daniel takes hold of your hands, “where’s all of this coming from, honey?”

you look up at him, and reach your arm back on the bed where you have thrown your phone after spending hours reading what his fans had written about you.

his fans, the people that would run to the end of this world to support him, that go to his every race to shout his name as he passes the finish line, the people he confided in the most when he started dating you.

“i can talk to them, disable our comments on our posts, hell, baby, i’ll even delete all social media,” daniel says, his eyes not leaving the phone. his eyes reading every comment twice and his heart swelling and breaking.

switching off the phone, you stand up and grap the top you had thrown to the side, “don’t bother, it’ll either way just get worse.”

daniel shoots to his feet, grabbing the things you had haphazardly throw into the suitcase and putting it on the bed.

he’s not going to loose you. he won’t.

“y/n, please don’t do this, it’s almost winter break, we can go somewhere private, just us. we can work this out, we will get past this,” daniel is practically begging, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he keeps on swallowing on the lump.

your shoulders sag, “daniel, stop,” you place the jeans in your suitcase and walk up to him to take his hands in yours, “find someone else, someone who fits into this life, who will walk it with you every step of the way. there are so many women out there who’ll be better and much more supportive than i am, and someone who can handle a bunch of teenage girls’ comments.”

daniel shakes his head wildly and grips your hands tighter, “no, no, fuck all else if i cannot do this with you. i don’t need someone else, God, i only want you. i am my best when i am with you, y/n, forget those fucking comments. remember what i said in the beginning of this relationship?” daniel’s hands moved up to cup your face, wiping at the wetness under your eyes, nodding his head,

“it’s us, baby, it’s us against all else,” his voice breaks as he said it. he bites his lips, the tears he was forcing away finally slips down his cheeks.

“i will fight, y/n, i will fight for us. i will fight for you. i will fight anyone who is against us, because, baby, i will not survive this night if you walk out those doors,” he moves to tuck those little hairs around your face behind your ears.

you nod your head as best as you can with daniel’s large calloused palms holding it. falling into him, resting your head on his chest and securely wrapping your arms around him, you believe him.

because, against all odds, you weren’t ready to leave, to leave everything you’ve accomplished together.

you weren’t ready to loose daniel. to loose his jokes, his comfort that comes with his presence, his laugh that made everyone in the room giggle, his hands that easily engulfed yours, his shoulder when you needed someone to lean on. you weren’t ready to loose that.

his chest heaved with a sigh of relief as he rested his chin on the crown of your head and wrapping his arms around your shoulders tightly.

“it’s us against it all, yeah?”

with your face smushed into his chest, a mumbled agreement sealed with a kiss to your forehead is all both you and daniel needed to know that none of you were going anywhere anytime soon.

fin.

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cheolhub · 2 years ago

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TRY ME — CHOI SEUNGCHEOL ࿐

summary. you push your sweet boyfriend a little too far when you threaten to fuck his business partner at dinner. he decides to show both you and mingyu who you belong to.

wc. 4.3k

warnings. [PLEASE READ] established relationship. subby brat!reader, hard dom/brat tamer!cheol, car s2x. heavy degradation (use of bitch), sir kink, light choking, jealousy & possessiveness, dumb!fication, praise, heavy pet name use, unprotected s2x, edging, phone call w/ gyu during s2x, mentions of fucking mingyu several times (oops), male masturbation (mingyu is kind of a voyeur?), creamp!e — MINORS DNI 18+

note. mingyu is always at the scene of the crime, i fear. he kinda got fucked over in this tho, i apologize </3 i’ll make it up to him soon. ANYWAY @jeonghantis i love u, thank u for reading this over and being my biggest supporter 🩵

your feedback is sooo important to me, so comments and rbs are greatly appreciated <3333 mwah, enjoy :p

“did you have a good time acting like a needy little whore?” seungcheol grits, hands gripping the steering wheel of his car harshly. you can practically see the skin of his knuckles losing color thanks to the dim street lights shining through his car.

you sigh, shrugging, “could’ve had more fun if you’d fucked me like i asked.” your words were nothing if not nonchalant. you kept a cool front, but he knew you were acting like this to purposefully push his buttons.

“and you could’ve waited till we got home, but you’re incapable of being good, aren’t you?” you could tell he was getting angrier by the second. he wouldn’t look at you, the tips of his ears were burning red, and he was huffing out nearly every breath. “you just had to embarrass me in front of all of my colleagues?”

you laugh humorlessly, “i would barely consider that as embarrassing. besides, it’s not my fault you couldn’t handle it.”

he scoffs incredulously, finally turning his head to look at you. “handle what? your hand rubbing my dick at the dinner table or slobbering all over my business partner like some bitch in heat when i denied you?” his question makes you bite your lip because, of course, it’s rhetorical. he knows you well enough to recognize you were doing both for his undivided attention.

you flash a smile at him and he shakes his head, averting his attention back to the road. admittedly, he loves it when you get like this, all bratty and overly confident– but, god, you could be such a piece of work.

but you’re almost positive that you love his possessiveness more than he loves when you’re a brat. your usually-cute boyfriend can be so fucking sexy when he wants to be.

“mingyu could’ve fucked me in the bathroom, cheollie, you didn’t need to make us all leave early ‘cus of that.” your lips turn down in a faux pout. “bet he would’ve had a blast and you would’ve gotten all your little clients to make deals with you– could’ve been a win for all of us, no?”

you speak with a substantial amount of confidence laced in your words that it has him throbbing in his slacks out of jealousy and anger and burning desire to make you eat your words. he’s just about had it, ready to pull over and fuck you on the roof of his car. “better shut that pretty little mouth of yours.” he spits. “i’m not fucking playing with you, baby.”

you giggle at the warning, stomach churning with excitement and ruined panties soaking further. “or what? gonna pull over? fuck me like you own me?” you tease, hands gripping the ends of your dress as you shift in the excruciating puddle you’re sitting in.

“you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he holds back a groan, cock twitching because he knows he would. he’d honestly love to. he’d love to fuck you like you’re his little slut– make you cry and apologize for nearly ruining his night.

you shrug, “maybe… but i know you won’t though. maybe i should call gyu, i’m sure he’d fuck me anywhere i wanted. i mean, did you see him? he was so ready to just take me on the table in front of everyone when i asked him.” you feign sadness with a sigh and frown. “you’d never do that– you’re so cruel sometimes, cheollie.”

“mingyu couldn’t handle you.”

“so? it’s obvious you can’t either…” you lie because you know damn well it was you who couldn’t handle seungcheol. not the other way around. “you proved that at dinner.”

he scoffs. “is that so?” you’ve finally set him off. so much so that he’s deterring from his original route home. instead, you notice that he’s pulling into the next deserted lot he sees and parking his car.

he turns off the engine, snapping his head to see you under the harsh lamp post lighting with your pupils blown out and your thighs squeezed together. “get in the back.” he demands, voice hard and stern.

you realize you have him right where you want him, yet you tease anyway. he always fucks you the best when you’re on your absolute worst behavior.

when you don’t move, sitting there staring at him with a small smile on your face and thighs rubbing together slightly, his voice drops an octave. “pretty girl, you better do what i said and get in the back. told you i’m not fucking playing around anymore.”

you shiver, pussy flooding at his voice. you undo your seatbelt but you don’t move any further than that. you’re having a hard time keeping the bratty facade when all your body wants is to submit to him, but you get your next words out somehow. “make me.” you grin, eyes dark with lust and desire.

his jaw ticks at your reply, evidently unhappy with your lack of manners. surely, he didn’t hear you correctly so he cocks his head and utters out, “excuse me?”

you lean in over the center console, hand on his thigh much like it was a couple hours prior at the dinner table. “i said, make me.”

and he did. make you, that is. everything after that was a blur that had your head spinning– you remember some things like how he wrapped his large hand around your throat and how he practically forced you into the backseat as you smiled cheekily at him. you remember how he pressed his lips to your ear while he had your face down and ass up, sweetly whispering ‘cherry’ against it to remind you of your safe word. you couldn’t forget how he ripped your favorite lace panties in half before pushing his fat cock into you.

now he’s fucking you stupid, slamming into you with brute force from behind with one hand holding your wrists against your back and the other on your head, pushing your hot face deeper into the more cool leather.

“this what you wanted? wanted me to be mean to you? wanted me to fuck you and treat you like some cheap whore?” he spits. “it is, isn’t it? pissing me off turns you on?”

you choke on a whine at his words and when you don’t give him a verbal response, he topples over you, drilling himself deeper into your tight cunt, hot breath fanning against your face. “i’m getting a bit tired of you not answering when i ask you a question, baby.” he growls and you swear your eyes roll back at his animalistic-like energy.

“yes,” you get out, choked and breathy.

he shakes his head, gritting, “yes what?”

“y-yes, sir… i wanted this.” you submit whimpering out your words as you’re on the brink of ecstasy. you even think you’re starting to drool on his seats, and cheol notices, of course, but he doesn’t have it in him to reprimand you. especially not when you look this fucked out all for him.

he coos, lips brushing against the bare skin of your shoulder blade. “good girl,” he praises condescendingly. “so pretty when you’re being good f’me.”

cheol has learned, after months of being with you, that his cock always puts you back in your place. it always turns you into his sweetest, respectful, all-around good girl even though sometimes, like tonight, you don’t deserve it.

“and what about mingyu, hmm? what would he think if he saw you taking my cock like a slut in the backseat of my car?” his cock twitches at his own question because, yeah, he’d love for people to see you crying– drooling– for him and his dick.

you can’t be bothered to think about mingyu when all you can think about is his cock filling you to the brim, hitting all the spots that make you weak. you moan out something incomprehensible about how you ‘don’t care,’ and how you ‘wanna cum.’

seungcheol lets out an airy chuckle, head spinning from the way your gummy walls always hug him so tight. “no? you don’t wanna fuck him now?”

“n-never did! just you!” you pant, clenching around him as you grow closer and closer with every thrust.

an animalistic noise bubbles up in the back of his throat before he spits, “that’s ‘cuz you’re just my pretty little bitch, right?”

your eyes roll and your jaw goes slack as you try to nod your head in agreement. “god, yes. ‘m yours.”

“that’s right.” he lets out a soft moan when you tighten around him, “ is my baby close?”

“yes! yes, sir, ‘m so close!” you sob, desperately pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts. “gonna cum,” your warning makes cheol stop as he bites back a groan.

“hold it.” he demands and when you let out a miserable cry, he simply shushes you. “‘m sorry, princess, but i can’t always give you what you want, especially not when you’ve been a slutty brat all night– you know that.”

“‘m sorry! ‘m so so so sorry. please keep fucking me. please, please let me cum– i’ll do anything!” you desperately weep, tears free falling, soon to mix with the puddle of drool you’ve left on the seat. you have no pride or shame left as you attempt to push yourself back on to him.

seungcheol smiles triumphantly at the mess he’s reduced you to. he almost feels like his actions are sadistic and, usually, he’d feel bad. usually.

he would never deliberately prolong your orgasm especially after you beg like that, but fuck, you’ve really got him in a mood tonight. acting the way you did tonight… that definitely accounts for some type of punishment.

so his long arm reaches to grab his phone from the center console of his car all the while he’s still fully sheathed inside of your pulsing cunt. his voice drops another octave when his question comes out, “how bad do you wanna cum?”

you’re startled by his deep voice that seems to hold even more dominance than it did moments prior. a shiver runs its way through your body and you stutter out your response. “s-so bad, sir, wanna cum for you so bad.”

“mmm, and you’ll do anything to do so, yeah?”

“yes! anything… please.”

the desperation in your voice evokes a shaky breath from him. he loves you when you’re a menace, but when you’re like this? all fucked out, drooling, and begging for his cock? it nearly turns him into a mess. regardless, no matter how much of a bratty front you put up– no matter how bent out of shape your attitude gets– he’ll always fuck you back into place. you’re at his mercy. you both know it.

“alright, baby,” he starts gently, releasing his grip on your wrist using the free hand to ghost over the skin of your ass before grabbing a handful and massaging the flesh. “can you get on your hands for me?”

you nod eagerly, clenching around him instinctively at how quickly his demeanor can change. you do as he says, weakly moving your body till you’re on all fours with his dick still enveloped in your heat.

cheol unlocks his phone with his free hand, searching for his recent contacts. he places the phone next to your hand and you furrow your eyebrows at the action.

the words ‘kim mingyu’ read on the screen and he smirks when you crane your head to look back at him.

“w-what… what do you want me to do?” you stutter, though you’re sure you don’t really want to hear the answer to your question.

his heavy hands continue to knead at your ass while he responds, voice barely above a whisper, “apologize to mingyu and i’ll let you cum.”

“but… won’t he… won’t he know what we’re doing?” you try to reason, but seungcheol knows. he knows that mingyu will know the second you utter your first word to him.

that’s why he’s dead set on doing this. he needs mingyu to hear you getting wrecked on his cock– needs mingyu to know that you are his.

“don’t worry about that, baby. you’ll call him anyway, won’t you?” he slowly pulls an inch out of you before pushing back in, just barely fucking you.

you whimper, nodding your head, “okay, okay. i will.”

“good girl.” he praises, reveling in the way you tighten around him.

your hand shakily presses the call button and you watch his name reappear on the dimmed screen. you press the speaker button and the sound of rings fill the car, but it doesn’t take long before he answers, his strained voice filling the silence.

“hello?” mingyu asks, clearing his throat.

“hey mingyu,” cheol greets and you feel your entire body heat and tense up, a sharp exhale leaving your lips. “did you get home alright?”

“cheol…” you whimper lowly to keep the man on the phone from figuring you out but end up wincing at the tightening grip on your ass. you take it as a warning, biting your lip to keep from saying anymore.

you tune out the conversation, trying to think of anything else but the burning fire in the pit of your tummy and the fact that cheol’s on the phone with his business partner whom you threatened to call up and fuck a mere 20 minutes ago.

it isn’t until he slowly starts moving that you push your face into the leather seats to mask a whine– though it obviously doesn’t work much because you’re sure mingyu is well aware that you’re… present.

“yeah, she’s here,” seungcheol smiles wickedly to himself as he replies to mingyu asking the obvious. “actually that’s why i called. she wanted to talk you– apologize for what happened earlier– isn’t that right, Y/N?”

you whimper again, suddenly changing your mind and shaking your head ‘no.’ this is way too embarrassing.

cheol can’t resist the chuckle that comes out of his mouth. you’re cute. cute in the way your body betrays you when your pussy clenches tightly around him at the offer. cute when you say you don’t want to when your body says the exact opposite.

“gimme a sec,” he says as his hand moves to press the mute button. “c’mon, don’t you wanna cum, baby?” he coos, snapping his hips against your ass at a steady pace.

“i do!.. i do, b-but he’s gonna know if y-you keep going.” you pant. “‘n i-i can’t talk to him like this.”

“oh, well maybe you should’ve thought of that, baby,” he says and you can hear the faux pout in his words. “if you wanna finish, you’ll have to apologize to him for being such a needy little thing all night.”

you shudder and nod defeatedly as seungcheol continues to thrust in and out of you. your hand moves to unmute the phone, taking a shaky inhale before you speak.

you try your best to sound as normal as possible, but your words still come out breathy and stuttered, “h-hello,”

“Y/N?” mingyu calls, voice lilting a bit out of surprise.

you involuntarily clench again at how taboo this whole situation is. how is cheol so okay with this? how will he ever face mingyu again? you know for a fact you won’t be able to without thinking about cheol’s cock stretching you out, but… then again, maybe that’s exactly what seungcheol wants.

“hi, gyu,” you greet, the nickname loosely slipping past your lips. you feel seungcheol’s hands grip at your waist again. rougher this time. like he wants to tell you something– stop being so friendly– just with his actions.

your eyes screw shut and your teeth dig into the pillowy flesh of your bottom lip to omit the whiny sound from leaving your lips.

it doesn’t go unheard, of course. you can practically hear your boyfriend’s smirk when mingyu asks, “are… are you okay?”

you laugh breathily, a whine dying on the tip of your tongue when seungcheol moves a bit faster. “yeah! no, i’m good! i-i’m great.” you just need to get this apology over with so you can hang up and finally get what you want. “listen, gyu, i– oh, fuck.”

clearly, seungcheol couldn’t let it be that easy, slamming into you like he was minutes earlier. the tip of his cock rams into your sweet spot and you find yourself barely holding on, seconds away from crumbling if he doesn’t let up.

mingyu’s mouth runs dry and you know he’s finally pieced it all together when he exhales sharply, “Y/N? are you sure you’re okay?”

seungcheol rolls his eyes. he topples over you again, plush lips pressing against one of your heated ears, “answer him.”

“yes, yes…” you pant. “i-i wanted… to say sorry.”

“tell him why you’re sorry.” cheol’s hot breath fans against your ear again. his thrusts don’t falter in this process, effectively hitting your spot over and over and over.

it’s driving you crazy. beyond crazy, honestly. it’s driving you absolutely mad. so mad that you don’t even care about the sob that comes out of your mouth when you apologize to mingyu again.

“‘m sorry! sorry for ruining dinner ‘n sorry for being needy and ask– fuck– asking you to fuck me to- to rile cheol up.” you cry, tears slipping down your face as the knot in your tummy gets tighter and tighter. “i’m so sorry, please. please forgive me.”

seungcheol smiles against your ear, biting back a chuckle at your desperation. he knows the apology was more for him than mingyu.

mingyu shudders straight into the mic before stuttering, “Y/N… it’s… fine, please–”

“cheol,” you sob, cutting him off and it startles both seungcheol and the man on the phone. it’s apparent that you’ve lost the ability to be discreet and your boyfriend takes pride that he and his cock are the reason for that.

but it’s when you cry out the other man’s name– a whiny ‘gyu’– that his jaw sets and his teeth grind together.

“so fucking dirty,” cheol spits, sitting back up. his hips snap against your ass vigorously and it’s like both of you have forgotten about poor mingyu who’s still on the line and now hearing every word– every little thing. “moaning out his name while i’m fucking you like this? you really want him to know how much of a slut you are?”

mingyu lets out a muffled groan into his phone, hand slipping to palm at his clothed cock– which has been all hard and achy since you whispered into his ear at dinner– his other clamped over his mouth. he’s trying to keep his sounds at bay, trying to fight the moan that bubbles up in the back of his dry throat, but his name falling from your pretty lips like that? it’s making it impossible.

he knows the two of you have forgotten all about him because he can hear the vulgar words his partner spits and the lewd sounds of his balls slapping against what he presumes to be your unbelievably soaked cunt. it’s driving him nuts. you’ve been driving him nuts all fucking night.

and it’s true. you and seungcheol pay no mind to the phone– you’re too busy losing your mind and cheol is too busy making it happen– it’s like he doesn’t even exist.

your walls hug his cock tightly and it elicits a deep chuckle from the man behind you. “look at that. you’re squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight.” he says breathily. “just like you’re made to take my cock. isn’t that right, baby? made just for me?”

you respond with a moan, arms giving out on you as you return to your previous position– one arm limply hanging off the seat while the other grips at the door’s cup holder– your face buried into the leather seat.

seungcheol doesn’t tolerate that response, though, hand lacing into your hair and pulling your face off the seat. “answer me,” he grits, roughly tugging at your locks. “or i’m pulling out.”

you panic at the thought of being left all high and dry, incessantly shaking your head in his tight grip. “y-yes, sir, yes! for you– made for you.” you sob in a mix of pain and pleasure, back arching while his cock finally hits your cervix. “cheol– cheol, i’m– fuck, ‘m gonna cum! p-please, can i?”

and it’s when mingyu hears seungcheol’s given name– when it’s followed by your desperate pleas for release– that he can’t hold it in anymore, letting out a loud, drawn out moan. he’s quick when pulling his cock out of his slacks, spitting into his palm, and working himself rather aggressively. it’s like he’s chasing his own release, too.

seungcheol grunts in confusion at the deep moans, but then it comes back to him. mingyu never hung up. an evil smirk plays onto his plush lips, “oh-ho, you hear that, sweet girl? sounds like gyu stuck around to hear you cum all over my cock.”

and mingyu moans again, a hushed, “fuck,” slipping past his lips. you can almost hear how fast his hand moves, how unbelievably eager he is.

your boyfriend moans, giving you sharper thrusts. he pants out his next words, “that’s so dirty, mingyu… didn’t know you were into that.”

and mingyu wants to tell him to shut the fuck up, but he can’t form the words when all he can think about is the sound of your pornographic moans and how he’s needily bucking into his tight fist, wishing he was in seungcheol’s position.

you, on the other hand, could care less that mingyu is on the other side of the line, truly. you’re practically at your breaking point, and if you don’t release sometime soon, you may break.

“cheol, please– please, please, i-i can’t–” you gasp out, pussy tightening around him and squeezing him for all he’s worth. “oh, my god, i’m–”

seungcheol shushes you, “‘s alright, baby, you can cum in a sec.”

and just as you’re about to let go, cheol’s hand grabs at his whiny phone and ends the call, sending mingyu to what you presume is his doom.

“i’m the only one who gets to have you like this.” he grunts, hips stuttering a bit. you can tell he’s close, too. the way he huffs out his words and his movements get sloppy. “cum for me, baby, come on.” he whispers.

and you do. your orgasm, powerful and blinding, washes over you seconds after he gives you the okay. your body convulses and your back arches as the knot finally unravels in your tummy. your eyes roll, jaw dropping and letting out the loudest cry of his name.

“fuck, that’s it, baby. that’s my fuckin’ girl.” he coaxes, fucking you through your orgasm, though your vice-like cunt makes it nearly impossible. “gonna fill you up just like you need, yeah? just take it all for me.”

you whine, still recovering from your euphoric high, yet you still give him a broken nod.

he groans loudly, giving you a few more hard thrusts before he’s nestling himself deep and stilling inside of you. his cock twitches and, before you know it, warm cum floods your pussy, effectively filling you up just as he promised.

the post-orgasm haze lingers over both of you for a while, but seungcheol is the first to speak up, a twinge of guilt filling him when he sees you’re still shuddering and twitching underneath him.

his voice hoarse, “baby, are you good? was i too rough?”

“mmm, ‘m good, i liked it. you’re so hot.” you mindlessly admit, words breathy and muffled.

he scoffs, hand soothing over your body. he’s always so soft after he fucks you regardless of how mad or upset he is. “so you did all of it on purpose, hm?” he asks knowingly and when you give him a sleepy giggle, he rolls his eyes. “you’re annoying.”

“it was worth it… it felt so good, cheollie,” you admit. “hope you’re not too mad, you know you’re the only one for me.” the reassurance slips from your lips and seungcheol can tell it’s genuine.

“baby, you know you can just be normal and ask if you want to be fucked like that, right?”

“it’s more fun this way,” you tell him, shameless with your words. “i literally thought i was going to cum when you ripped my panties. i’m serious, you’re so fucking hot.”

he snickers at your blunt words, “i think you’re still cockdrunk, baby. come on, i’ll clean you up and we can go home. think i got some napkins in here.”

you sigh, nodding your head, “can we roll the windows down? smells like sex in here.”

he laughs, taking in the fact that it is now stuffy in his precious, fogged up car, but you were right. it was so worth it. the sex was just as good for him as it was for you, if not better.

when he pulls out, he makes sure your ass is still raised up so his seed doesn’t spill out as quickly to avoid the mess it’ll make while he scavenges for napkins in the glove box. he does eventually get you cleaned up, handling you gently and whispering about how well you did, much like he does every other time.

once you’re clean, he gets you to turn and look at him. he smiles at your disheveled state, “well, you look like you had the time of your life.” he says sarcastically.

“i did, actually.” you say as a matter-of-factly. “i feel kinda bad for mingyu, though… i didn’t want him to get caught in the crossfire.”

cheol rolls his eyes in faux annoyance, “he’ll be fine, i’ll text him right now.”

when seungcheol grabs his phone that now resides on the floor of his car, he sees that there are already a few missed texts from mingyu.

“he said he’s fine.” seungcheol assures, though you can tell by the smug smirk on his face that mingyu most definitely did not say it was fine. “don’t worry about him.”

kim mingyu

hello?!

???

dude

not cool.

choi seungcheol

sorry, man. call dropped. see you monday.

kim mingyu

??????

taglist 🔖: @roe-sinning @hyuk4ngel @bowmonde @rckwithyou @5xiang @ttyunz @lunaofthelake @girls4cheol @miriamxsworld @enhacolor @jihoontea

#seungcheol smut #choi seungcheol smut #scoups smut #seventeen smut #svt smut

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brattyfork · 1 year ago

Text

i haven’t

summary: matt feels insecure still being a virgin, his best friend helps him out

warnings: sex obviously, matt being kind of a sub, nothing super crazy, very long tho sorry

i havent 💚3

matt and i have been best friends since high school, he was always more of the shy one in our friendship. this resulted in us having two very different high school experiences, i had the very stereotypical “ideal” experience, parties, drinking, sex, all the lame school dances, football games, you name it, i probably did it. matt, however, had almost the complete opposite, unfortunately his anxiety usually got the best of him and he ended up hanging out with a few close friends (including me) and his brothers, which was still super fun but he stayed in his comfort zone. i convinced matt, with chris’ help, to come to a few parties but aside from getting high once he didn’t really participate in them. all of this to say, i was pretty experienced while matt was a sober virgin. i know that sounds harsh but it never bothered me or him as far as i knew. i obviously wanted to have fun with my best friend but it never distanced us, it was his choice and i respected it.

this brings us to now, i’m 20 and living with matt and his two triplet brothers. matt had come out of his shell a considerable amount but still never felt the need to do anything crazy.

we were sitting in our living room bored out of our minds when nick suggested we play a game. i suggested truth or dare but none of us wanted to get up so chris said we should play never have i ever. nick made fun of him for picking something so middle school but no one had any better ideas so we went with it.

it started out pretty tame, “nhie pooped my pants” “nhie cried at school” “nhie fallen down the stairs” before chris raised the stakes. “nhie kissed someone” i was confused why he asked this because we all had and we all knew that. i put my finger down, turning to matt who was red in the face and realized why chris asked.

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

senior year, matt was feeling really bad about not having had his first kiss before he graduated high school. he was complaining and moping so much that i finally suggested i could be his first kiss. he turned beet red and began asking me a dozen questions.

“won’t it be weird?”

“not if we don’t make it weird”

“what if i’m bad?”

“you can’t really be bad at it, plus if you were i wouldn’t care”

“are you sure about this?”

“yeah if it’ll make you stop sulking in self pity”

he rolled his eyes at me, “you’re not gonna make fun of me are you?”

i tilted my head at him, “matt, have i ever genuinely made fun of you?” he shook his head.

“just close your eyes, i’ll take the lead”

he took a deep breath before closing his eyes. i leaned over, a little nervous myself, took his face in my hands and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. he kissed back for a moment before i pulled away, him subconsciously chasing my lips. it was actually one of the nicest kisses i’ve ever had, his lips were soft and he was gentle, most guys just tried to eat my face. once we had both pulled back and opened our eyes we started giggling which turned into stomach-churning laughter. we just couldn’t help it, it was funny. we didn’t talk about it anymore after that, other than him updating his brothers on what had happened.

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

chris could be a dick sometimes, giving his brothers a hard time and unfortunately, matt was an easy target. i kicked chris’ leg, giving him a stern look.

“ow! what the hell dude?”

“don’t be a dick”

we moved on, more questions about embarrassing things and a few rounds later it was chris’ turn again.

“nhie had sex” chris giggled

chris and i put a finger down, while nick and matt’s stayed up.

“did someone slip asshole pills into your pepsi?”

they all chuckled at my comment, but it wasn’t really a joke.

“i think we should quit while we’re ahead, are you guys hungry?” they all nodded. nick and chris began bickering about where we should eat while we were all getting our shoes on.

“do you wanna drive or do you want me to?” i asked matt

“i don’t care” he didn’t sound angry, more defeated

“okay, i can drive” i gave him a soft smile.

we loaded into the car, nick taking his usual spot in the back. chris tried to sit up front, he normally sat there when matt drove and sometimes when i did. i shot him a glare, him letting out a sigh and scooting in next to nick. matt took his seat in the front, sometimes he would ask for aux but he just went on his phone and said nothing. chris chimed in from the back.

“can i…?” he asked referring to the music, i nodded my head at him, seeing as i didn’t wanna pick anything and matt was occupied.

we decided on a coney island, wanting to sit down opposed to getting fast food. we got a booth, chris and nick sitting across from matt and i. matt was particularly quiet tonight and i could tell something was wrong. i noticed he was twiddling his thumbs in his lap and quickly grabbed his hand, interlacing our fingers and resting our hands on his thigh. this was normal for us, we held hands sometimes when one of us noticed the other was stressed. he looked up from his lap and gave me a small smile before slowly joining the conversation. matt seemed to be acting like his normal self again but i could tell something was still bothering him.

we finished our food and made our way back to the house, chris and nick decided to retire to bed while matt and i weren’t super tired yet. we grabbed a few snacks before heading to my room, which was on the first floor while the boys’ were on the second, mainly so we didn’t have to worry about waking up nick and chris.

we turned on adventure time and matt rested his head on my lap while we both scrolled aimlessly through our phones. after about two episodes, matt put his phone down and just stared at the ceiling.

“are you good?” i asked, concerned about his strange behavior.

“when did you lose your virginity?”

i was taken a back by his question but answered nonetheless.

“uhh summer after sophomore year i think”

he didn’t say anything.

“why do you ask?”

“do you think it’s weird i’m still a virgin?”

“no matt, not at all”

“i think it’s weird”

“do you think it’s weird that nick is a virgin?”

“no but he’s at least done stuff, all i’ve done is kissed you, no offense”

i giggled, “none taken matty, the time just hasn’t been right yet. you’ll meet a girl and hit it off, you’ll know.”

“yeah…” he trailed off, like he had more to say.

“you know you can tell or ask me anything right?”

“if you don’t want to, you can tell me to fuck off and we can forget this ever happened…” he paused for a moment “w-would you have sex with me?”

“are you sure you want to? we don’t have to do anything you don’t want”

“yes i want to, i’m sick of being a 20 year old virgin” he chuckled. i let out a few giggles too before our laughter died down.

when i looked at him now, his eyes were dark with need and desperation. i took his face in my hands and pulled him into a deep kiss. i hadn’t had a kiss like matt’s since senior year, i tried to push it out of my head but it was hard. it was like fireworks were going off inside my head when our lips touched, i had never felt that with anyone else.

the kiss got more heated, i wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled myself onto his lap, causing him to whimper at the pressure. i smiled into the kiss, his noises giving me more confidence as i ground my hips into his lap. he almost completely pulled away from the kiss as a desperate whine escaped his lips. i smiled at him before making my way to his neck, placing wet kisses along it up to his ear.

“i love the noises you make” i whispered before sucking a purple mark into his neck, more beautiful sounds leaving his lips while his hands trailed down to my ass, pulling me into him.

i came back to his face kissing him again before bringing my hands to the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head. i then took off my shirt and bra so he wouldn’t feel so exposed. his eyes bore into my chest, his mouth hung open as if he wanted to say something.

“you gotta use your words to get what you want matty..” i teased him.

“c-can i touch you?” he asked, moving his hands up towards my boobs.

“of course you can, such a polite boy”

he blushed before placing his cold hands over my breasts, causing me to shiver. i kissed him while he played with my boobs, gaining more confidence and playing with my nipples. i let out a moan that was swallowed into the kiss before i pushed him onto the bed, leaving me on top of him.

i quickly got up off of him before taking off my leggings and moving to pull down his pants. he protested slightly, causing me to pull away before he spoke.

“can i make you feel good?”

“you will baby, i’m gonna take care of you right now tho, just relax” he let out a deep breath, giving into my instructions. i crawled up to his lap, palming him over his boxers before placing kisses up his shaft over the fabric. he began squirming under me when i decided to take his boxers off. he wasn’t huge but a decent size: proportional in length and width. i licked my lips, excited to have him inside me before taking him in my hand and licking a strip up the underside of his dick. he jumped a bit at the new feeling before letting out a loud groan from my warm tongue on his cock. i licked up the side of him before finally taking him into my mouth, sucking on the tip lightly causing him to buck his hips into me. he shot me an apologetic look while i took the rest of him in my mouth, the tip of his dick hitting the back of my throat. he gasped, all the air leaving his lungs as i began to bob up and down on him.

“holy fucking shit” he whimpered. i couldn’t help but giggle around him, the vibration causing him to buck up again. i continued sucking him, swirling my tongue around his dick until i felt him twitch in my mouth. i pulled off, followed by a loud whine of protest coming from him.

“mmm i was close” he pouted.

“don’t you wanna cum inside me?” his eyes lit up at the suggestion before nodding his head. i climbed up him, planning to ride him before he stopped me.

“um, can i do something to you?”

“you wanna finger me sweet boy?” he quickly nodded his head making me chuckle again at his eagerness. i grabbed his hand, pulling his pointer and middle finger out before taking them in my mouth, running my tongue all along them while keeping eye contact with the boy under me. i could feel his dick twitching under me, causing me to moan around his fingers. i pulled his fingers out of my mouth before moving them down to my pussy. he moved his fingers around, just getting a feeling for the area before stating “you’re so wet” i kissed him as he continued to feel me, rubbing his wet fingers on my clit making me moan into the kiss. he found his way to my entrance, pushing just at the beginning before stopping. i opened my eyes, realizing he was waiting for my consent. i nodded my head and he pushed one of his slender fingers into me, in turn pulling moans out of me. i moved to his ear. “you can put the other one in too” i whispered to him. he pushed the other in before i kissed him, pushing my tongue into his mouth and quickly dominating. he slowly got his footing, picking up his pace, my noises egging him on to repeat his actions. i felt myself nearing the edge, now grinding down onto his fingers. i pulled away from the kiss.

“fuck matty, you’re making me feel so good. please don’t stop” he said nothing but continued his motions until i fell into my orgasm, my legs shaking on his lap, still moving his fingers in and out of me. i had to grab his wrist for him to stop, not realizing he was overstimulating me.

“sorry” he murmured.

“you dont have to be sorry goof. you want me to ride you now?”

“yes please”

i spit on my hand, stroking him up and down a few times before lining him up at my entrance. i looked at him for approval, him nodding his head for me to slowly sink down. the noise he made when i pushed him into me is something i wish i could have on replay in my head for the rest of my life. like i said, he wasn’t huge but he filled me up in all the right places.

“fuck matt you feel so good”

“you’re so fucking tight holy god” i chuckled at his response, sitting there for a minute longer to let us both get used to the sensation.

“ready?” i looked to him, he nodded. i lifted myself up on my knees before sinking back down onto him. he placed his hands on my hipbones, helping guide me up and down while i bounced on his cock.

“hnng holy shit i think i’m close”

“me too baby, let go whenever you’re ready, i’ve got you” i reassured him, picking up my pace a bit, his whines getting more and more broken with every movement. before i knew it i could feel his hot cum coating my insides, sending me over the edge, fucking us both through our highs. once we both stopped twitching, i laid down on him, getting comfortable while he caught his breath.

“god i could stay here forever”

“we could sleep like this you know”

“are you sure?? is that sanitary?” i laughed at him.

“yes it’s fine matt, just go to sleep, i know you’re tired”

“as long as you’re comfortable, okay. goodnight, thank you for that”

“of course matty, goodnight” i said wrapping my arms around his neck and falling asleep with him inside me.

a/n: hi hope yall enjoyed :3 sorry the end is kinda rushed i didn’t rly know how to end it.

#sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut

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gothic-thoughts · 10 months ago

Text

Slow on the Internet

(idek how i found this pic of him but im SO glad this shit exists😭)

(AGED UP) Yuji Itadori x Black Fem Reader Fluff

Streamer!Yuuji, Shy!Reader, RoommateAU, Friends2Lovers

CW: oblivious Yuuji 😭😭, yuuji talking to his twitch chat, reader speaks some Japanese 🤝🏾 Yuuji speaks some English, not proofread

Word Count: 1701

any Japanese is written in Romaji and confirmed by DeepL

It was 10 pm, Itadori was sitting in his gaming headphones on his stylish armchair, playing a popular game while Spotify was quietly playing a mellow song in the background.

"Guys, the stream's gonna be a little quiet, I don't want to wake my roommate."

Itadori tried not to make too much noise, talking quietly to his audience.

- Which one?

- Is it (Y/n)??

- Megumi or the American girl you brought on a while ago?

- The girl??

"Yes, I’m talking about (Y/n). Megumi's out for the night. Uh, for those new to stream, a couple streams ago..." Yuuji laughs into his hand, "Like 3 streams ago, I forced my roommate, (Y/n), to make a... commentary vid with me."

- You should force her back fr 👀👀

- Bring her back, yall were cute

- You guys chemistry was adorable, u sure she's just a roomie??👀👀

He laughed at the comments, a little embarrassed at the idea of having chemistry with his roommate, but it was sweet of them to think that. He shook his head and laughed, trying to brush it off as a friendly relationship.

"Shut up, it’s a normal amount of chemistry! I like to think we have a cool dynamic.”

- UR TELLING ME U DON'T LIKE HER??

- denial isn’t healthy, Itadori

- but does she want to STAY ur friend??

It was flattering how invested they were in a relationship between him and (Y/n). He wasn't sure what his chat was implying, surely they were teasing him. There was a little part of him that liked and even agreed with his chat's implications. He was glad they were taking so much interest in his friendship with (Y/n). It was sweet.

"I- what are you guys saying?" He laughed nervously, his cheeks red.

- THAT SHE LIKES U DUH

- U LIKE EACH OTHER??

- ITADORI UR FUMBLING

"You really think my roommate likes me? Really?"

- YES

- The only she could make it more obvious was if she kissed you like r u srs 😭😭

- Does she take or borrow ur stuff a bunch?

"Oh yeah, all the time." He laughed, nodding. "Like she'll use my body soap and won’t give it back unless I ask. Sometimes she'll even just take my clothes and leave them somewhere in her heya (room); sore wa wakaranai (I don't get that)."

- Bro cuz she likes u

- YUUJI WHAT

- She got it bad too. Both of u do

- AND U FRIENDZONED HER??

His heart was beginning to race a little as his chat spoke and said all these things. He laughed nervously, but he didn't deny any of their comments. He wondered if all these things actually were happening because she did have feelings for him.

"No, no I didn't... did I?"

- How do u curve a goddess BY ACCIDENT?

- Rejecting someone by accident is crazy

- She is fine asf lowkey

He shivered a little as his chat continued, making him begin to feel a little bad for keeping his feelings to himself and even stupid when realizing that he wasn’t reading her feelings correctly.

"I don't know, I mean.... it never crossed my mind that she really liked me. Maybe... but she just did small things."

He rubbed the back of his neck, not sure what to say. "I didn’t think she’d like me, I thought she was just doing it cuz she’s still fairly new to Japan. Aside from the fact that she’s out of my league."

- is it because she's older than you?

- I dont even think ur age gap is even that big smh

- how old is she anyway? U look about the same age

- Ik ur 21 but how old is (Y/n)?

"How old? She's 23, but still..."

He rubbed the back of his neck, his face red. He just didn't know what to say so he just laughed nervously. They kept describing her and it made him feel bad, thinking that he had been doing this to her, hopefully she still liked him so he could try again.

- ONLY 2 YEARS AND U STRESSIN BOUT AN AGE GAP???

- If you don't GO CONFESS LIKE AN ADULT😭😭

- Ur both young adults so age is just a number fr

- Yuuji, don't piss me off 🙄😤

Itadori couldn't help but laugh the more he read, unable to deny the comments that his chat was making. It felt like his chat had read his mind.

"Okay okay, wakattyo (i get it)! She likes me, I might like her, age isn't an issue. What am I supposed to do though?"

- Talk to her wat 😭😭

- UH TALK TO HER??

- Ask her out duh.

He laughed and read the comments. His chat was making it so simple.

"Come on guys, it can't be that simple. I live with her! What if she doesn't feel the same and things end up being awkward?"

Itadori jumps out of his chair, his heart beating out of his chest when he hears the only other person in the house knock on his bedroom door. Shit. Of course. He then realized he had his stream on the whole time so she definitely heard everything. He got up and walked over to his door. He cracked open the door, peeking through with his cheeks still red.

“Hey, Yuu.”

"Hey... did you hear nandemo (anything)?"

"Hear what?" (Y/n) furrowed her eyebrows, "You on the phone?”

He paused and smiled, "Uh, yeah. Yeah, I was just making sure I wasn’t being too, um, loud. I thought you were asleep.”

“I was, but I woke up wanting something sweet. I'm running to the konbini, nani ka hoshi mono wa?"

“Yeah, sure.” He paused, thinking of something, "Can you get me some ichigo pocky?"

“Honto ni? I was gonna get the same thing.”

He laughed, her answer surprised him. "Really?"

“Yea. Alright, I'll be right back."

He smiles, waiting for her to come back. He had so many thoughts, so much to process about the stuff his chat said and his own feelings for her. He waited for her to come back with the strawberry pocky.

- Well???

- Did she seem to like u??

- What she say?

“There's really no reason for me not to like her, ya know? I'm starting to think I like her back, really like her, she’s so sweet." He rubbed his neck, feeling guilty, "You guys were right, I've been rejecting her by accident. When she gets back, I want to tell her."

- YAAY

- LETSSGOOO

- THATS MY BOY

- GAMER BF + SHY GF FTW

The comments made him smile even brighter. The chat called her his girlfriend, but he didn't want to get too ahead of himself. He could only hope she'd respond positively.

"Shut up guys, I'm not her boyfriend.... well, yet hopefully."

20 minutes later, she walks into his room with snacks and a few drinks in a bag. He didn't expect her to come back so fast but it made him grateful. He was smiling wide as he took off his headphones and paused his game again, realizing how cute she was when she was just being herself. (Y/n) pauses in his doorway with wide eyes and a dropped jaw.

“Are--” She lowered her voice, “Are you streaming?”

"Uh, heh yeah. Uh, my chat they made me see something. It has to do with you."

“Oh god...” She chuckles and waves shyly at the camera, walking over, “They don't want me on another stream, do they?”

His chat was blowing up with comments, excited at the appearance of his roommate again. "Shut up guys, I swear. It wasn't planned. Anyway, you don't have to come near the camera.”

“I don’t, good; I was freaking out already.” She laughs.

“Do you mind if I keep streaming while we talk?"

“Uh... sure, why?” She hands him a soda and the boxes of pocky then backs out of the camera, “You making me nervous~”

"Yeah, sorry. They've really grown to like you, so they're excited to see you again."

“I was only in one stream!”

"I know, I know, but they really liked you. So every time you show up again, they get really excited because they love seeing more of you."

“I didn’t know I had fans; is that what you wanted to tell me?”

He sighed, "No, it's not. There's something else."

“Mkay...?”

"Alright.” He takes a deep breath and stands, hoping he doesn’t make a fool of himself, “So chat made me realize that I’m a biggest idiot in the world. I... I like you, (Y/n).”

“You're...” (Y/n) chuckles uncomfortably, “You’re joking? Kore wa jyooku desu ka?”

"No, no. I mean it. They helped me realize that you liked me so I wanted to tell you that.”

“But I thought you didn't like me.”

"Yeah, well, I thought I didn't, I realized it after they pointed out how we treat each other. And they were right.”

“So you were rejecting me... by accident?!”

“I just thought you'd stick around me cuz you’re still a little new to Japan!"

“Yuuji, I've lived here for like 5 months now!”

“Yeah, but I thought, like... I don’t know!”

“God, you be so clueless sometimes.” She sighs deeply, “Since I know now, finish your stream and we can eat the snacks and maybe, uh, eiga o miru?"

Itadori froze. “Movie? You... want to watch a movie with me?"

“Seems like the only thing to do this late at night," She chuckles, "Everything but the convenience store is closed this late."

"Hell yeah, I’d love to!”

(Y/n) laughs, “Mkay, lemme know when you’re done.”

(Y/n) leaves his room with the bag of her sweets and closes the door. Yuuji sits back down in his chair with a wide smile on his face as he starts playing his game again. He was so focused on finishing it for his stream and going to watch the movie that he wasn’t reading the chat’s confused and riled comments. He finally looked over at them and laughed, pausing the game:

- ITADORI IF U DON'T END THE STREAM

- GO BRO

- END STREAM

- STREAM TMR TF

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

(a/n): unfortunately not sponsored by strawberry pocky cuz 🤤🤤

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen x black reader #x black reader #black reader #x black fem reader #black writers #jujutsu kaisen #black fem reader #yuuji x reader #jjk yuuji #yuuji itadori x reader #itadori yuuji x reader #yuuji fluff #itadori yuuji fluff #yuuji itadori fluff #yuji x reader #itadori yuuji

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jujuscrolled · 16 days ago

Text

Baby, It’s Cold Outside !

☆ pairing: satoru gojo x gn!reader

☆ synopsis: Your best friend Satoru Gojo had a bad habit of hogging you all to himself - especially around the holidays - but he always knew when to share. That being said, despite you telling him about your very important date with the guy from one of your classes, he seemed to be abnormally clingy (which you didn’t even think was possible.) Hopefully your hot date won’t mind the messy hair and rosy cheeks you’d probably show up with…

☆ content: fluff, slight very minimal angst if u squint super duper hard, just toru being … the cutest <333

☆ word count: 2.4K

☆a/n: happy toru day !! pls enjoy <3 comments and reblogs always appreciated!

“Wait, what?” Satoru asked, cerulean eyes staring at your figure as you moved across the room. He watched as you twisted the bright red ribbon in your hands into a perfect bow before you secured it to the tree you had been helping him decorate.

“Mm? Oh, I said we have to hurry because I have a date.” You all but squealed. Only sparing him a measly glance, still missing the absolute heartbreak in your best friend’s face.

He had noticed how quick you were moving, almost as if you wanted to leave as soon as possible, and it had hurt his feelings when he was only assuming that you wanted out but now that it was confirmed that you actually did want to leave he felt even worse.

Decorating the Christmas tree was tradition for the two of you - was a date really more important than tradition? Would Satoru act the same if he had a date with someone? He wouldn’t know - he hasn’t looked for a date since… Well, actually, he couldn’t recall the last time he’d been attracted to anyone since meeting you your freshman year in high school.

His frown only deepened at the realization that he’d been single for far too long.

Then again, you’d been single for about the same amount of time - it was really no shock that you were excited to be going on a date - but still, Satoru couldn’t help the green eyed monster that was clawing it’s way out of the deep depths of his soul.

“Toru, the ornaments aren’t gonna hang themselves, silly!” You called, finally sparing him more than a glance. It was only then that you saw his adorable pout that he always seemed to sport whenever he felt you weren’t giving him enough attention. You couldn’t help the soft chuckle that left your lips, causing Satoru’s eyes to light up - something that you had missed since you had turned around to place your ribbon down before turning back to him and making your way over.

“You’re so needy, Toru, you know that?” You sighed, ruffling his hair before sitting next to him and grabbing one of the hooks from the little box so you could help him place them onto the ornaments.

Truth be told, you hated having to place the hooks into each of the ornaments but Satoru always insisted that it was what made the decorating so fun - pouring your blood (sometimes those hooks were far too sharp despite being reused so many times), sweat and tears into this tree was where your pride should come from. (He mostly says this because truthfully; a pretty tree was never something you’d both achieve - your tastes were just too different so the poor tree was more chaotic than aesthetic. In the end it was more of an eyesore than anything but the experience was what gave it its beauty.)

“Well sorry that I enjoy having you around.” He shrugged, glancing over at you before continuing the tedious process. You only grinned at him, placing your head on his shoulder as you told him about a random TikTok video that you’d seen earlier about a hot chocolate recipe you two should try. He hummed along to what you said, unable to really process anything you were saying because of your close proximity, but trying to regardless.

You’d both always be touchy; holding hands, hugging each other, your feet always finding each other under the tables, all of these things were normal - but for some reason, knowing you had a date with someone who wasn’t him made all of the touching so much more intense. Would you be touching your date like you touched him tonight? Would you touch him in ways Satoru could only dream of?

Once again, he swallowed his jealousy, choosing instead to wrap his arm around your shoulder and lean into you.

“Speaking of, I saw this video about a mac and cheese recipe I want to try. Should we make it right now? I can go get the stuff!” He had already made his way to stand up but you grabbed the the waistband of his pajama pants (and yes, they did match the ones you were wearing as well - that’s was another part of the tradition), pulling him back down.

“Toru, we need to finish this tree.” You whined, handing him one of the ornaments you’d put a hook into. He groaned, grabbing it from you before putting it back in the container and tackling you into the couch.

You groaned under his weight, shifting so you’d be able to breathe despite his arms being wrapped tightly around your torso. His face buried itself into the crook of your neck, tickling you as his breath fanned across the nape of your neck.

“But, Y/n~.” He whined, pulling you impossibly closer to his body. His body heat combined with the heat of the fireplace was making you dizzy. Or maybe it was his cologne, and the way his fingertips were slowly inching their way under you to the back of your neck forcing your own arms to wrap around his neck so your arms wouldn’t get sore.

You blinked before sighing and reaching a hand up to turn through fluffy white locks of hair. Satoru practically purred under your touch, lips so close to the erratic pulsing of your jugular vein that if he had no self control he’d be placing a soft kiss onto it.

“I think you should cancel your date.” He whispered causing you to pause your ministrations. “Huh?” You asked, completely caught off guard by his request.

He’d never interjected with anything you did in your life; in fact, he was always your number one supporter. It didn’t matter what you did, he’d be right alongside you cheering you on or even joining you if possible. Hell, one time in high school he’d even joined the cheer team for you - the both of you ending up quitting about a month in because neither of you enjoyed using your flexibility.

It had been years since you last went on a date with anyone, it really was getting a bit disappointing to still not have a significant other or even a damned situationship would be better than the lack of attention. So you thought he’d be jumping for joy with you - not encouraging you to die alone.

Though, if you really thought about it, you hadn’t really felt lonely the entire time you’d been single. Satoru had always been there, keeping you company and cheering you up whenever you needed him. But, Satoru was your best friend - not your boyfriend.

You sighed at your thoughts and pulled away from Satoru slightly, looking down only to see that he was already looking at you, eyes wide and pleading. You frowned and began playing with his hair again.

“I can’t just cancel my date, hun. He said he’d been planning it the entire week.” You explained watching as he furrowed his brows before burying his face back into your neck.

“So? just tell him it’s cold outside and that you don’t want to get sick.” He shrugged causing you to roll your eyes.

“I have a jacket.”

“Your hands are freezing and you’re not even outside yet.” He scoffed.

“Not fair, they’re always cold.” You said. It was true, you’d seen the way the goosebumps rose on his skin the second your hands had touched him. That was the funny thing about Satoru though, he’d never back out of your touch despite how cold your hands always seemed to be. You grinned at the thought, running your hand back down to the nape of his neck making him shiver.

“I’ll make you that hot chocolate you talked about - have the ingredients ‘n everything.” He bribed you, glancing up at you before closing his eyes. You felt his lashes brush against your pulse point, coaxing a shiver out of you.

“Toru.”

“Please, I’ll even let you borrow my other pajamas. Know you like those.” He grinned against you. You rolled your eyes; “I already have pajamas on.”

“But mine are much warmer…”

“… I guess, technically, we do have time to make the hot chocolate….”

He immediately removed himself from you making you shiver as a rush of cold air hit your body at once. “Perfect! Y’know where my stuff is, you change and I’ll get the stuff out.”

One batch of hot chocolate later, the two of you found yourselves lying by the fireplace, legs intertwined as he played with your fingers. “Can I practice palm reading on you?” He asked not moving his eyes from your hands that he couldn’t help but notice fit perfectly within his. You hummed in thought, eyes focused on the television that was playing some random Christmas movie - another tradition of yours.

“Is that a yes?”

“Depends how quick you can get it done.” You murmured watching as Jack Black charmed his way into Kate Winslet’s heart.

“Ugh, you still haven’t let that go?”

“My date? No, Toru, I haven’t forgotten about my date.”

He groaned dramatically, rolling on top of you again before biting down on your clothed shoulder, “ouch! Toru, that hurts!”

It hadn’t hurt but showing up with a bite mark to your date probably wouldn’t be a good look. The messy hair and rosy cheeks from the heat of the fireplace (and such) were probably going to cause you some trouble as is. Not to mention the probability of you showing up late was increasing the longer Satoru held you hostage in his arms.

Before he could say anything, a particularly loud gust of wind blew through the cracks of the windowpane causing a eerie whistling sound to fill the room and a cold chill to lick its way up your exposed arms. You shivered under Satoru who only huffed, “it’s freezing out there, just stay the night, Y/n.” He murmured looking back down at you. You frowned, “I already told you it’s too late to cancel.”

“The fact that he hasn’t cancelled already just shows he’s a red flag. What kind of boyfriend wants you to be out in the cold like that?” He muttered rolling his eyes.

“Don’t be silly, I already told you I have a jacket. And besides he’s not my boyfriend he’s a man i’m going on a date with.”

“Who wants to be your boyfriend.” He clarified, but you only rolled your eyes.

“I have an hour before I have to leave and we haven’t even finished the tree.” You reminded him, trying to push him off of you but he wouldn’t budge.

“Toru.” You warned causing him to sigh and release you, “you really won’t cancel?” He asked. Satoru was very playful, cracking jokes at times that most would consider inappropriate, but on the rare occasion that he was being serious the mood would immediately shift. This was one of those times and it made you frown.

“Why are you so insistent on me canceling?” You asked, sitting up so you could look at him closely. He sat in front of you, legs crossed and hands placed firmly on his knees before he let out a big sigh. “Well, how do I know you’ll be okay? Who even is this guy?” He scoffed.

“He’s in my child development class. Plus I don’t really think he’s a freak or anything since we’re friends and all.” You shrugged, leaning back into your elbows. Satoru watched you closely, eyes narrowing as he gathered his thoughts.

“Friends, you say, but I’ve never even had the displeasure of meeting him? What are his grades like?”

“I dunno, like a B?” Satoru scoffed at your answer, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes.

“B for bum. I passed with an A.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes. “He was sick for a week so he missed a couple assignments.” You explained, shrugging. “So now he wants you to get sick. Probably wants to drag you down instead of building you up like I would.”

“Toru, you’re ridiculous. He’s not trying to fail me.”

“Did he tell you this?” You groaned, rubbing a hand over your face in frustration. You didn’t understand why he was making this so difficult for you. It was just a stupid date that you agreed to go to because he offered to take you to your favorite restaurant. That’s it. He was cute, sure, but you weren’t even sure if you’d wanted to be in a relationship right now. You thought you did, because it really was starting to bother you that you’d been single for such a long time, but really you had never felt the need to look for someone other than your best friend.

“Satoru, why are you so adamant on this? It’s just a stupid date!” You huffed.

“You say it’s just a stupid date but yet you’re willing to cut our tradition short over it? How does that even make sense?” He scoffed, brows furrowed and breaths quickening. You matched his anger, suddenly feeling attacked.

“I’m not, but you rushed it too! You are the one who insisted on having it today even though I told you I had plans tonight!” You said making him groan.

“Yeah but you didn’t mention it was because of a date!”

“What difference would that even make?! A plan is a plan!” You argued to which he only shook his head to. “It makes a hell of a difference, Y/n!” Your eyes widened at the use of your name in such a serious manner. His chest was heaving, cheeks flushed in anger and eyes dulling significantly but still holding a fire behind them.

“Why?!”

“Damnit because i’m in love with you, Y/n! And I’m sorry it took being jealous to realize it but now that I’ve realized I’m afraid I can’t let you go on that date. At least, not unless you tell me to fuck right off.”

Your lips parted in shock, eyes widening significantly as you scanned his features for any chance that he was playing a sick joke on you. The only thing you were met with was furiously red cheeks, and pure genuineness adorning his every feature. You let out the breath you had unknowingly been holding.

“You love me?” You asked, he shook his head, “no, i’m in love with you. I adore you, and I have for a while now, honestly.” He muttered, eyes looking anywhere but your face.

“Toru? Toru look at me, yea?” You coaxed finally getting him to look at you.

“I’m in love with you too, silly.”

Safe to say, you hadn’t made it to your date that night, but the tree was your usual beautiful eyesore and the kisses shared under the mistletoe left you warmer than any hot chocolate recipe out there.

#HAPPY TORU DAY HEHEHEHE I LOVE U MY STARSHINE 🥺🩵🩵#jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo fluff #gojo x reader #gojo imagine #jjk imagines #jjk scenarios #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #satoru fluff #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo fluff

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ladybirdswritings · 7 months ago

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Pretty Thing - Cooper Howard (Ghoul) x Reader

Summary: You're a shiny, pretty prize worth more caps than can be counted on ten hands altogether. There's something special about you, and the Ghoul is determined to figure out just what it is.

Notes: Part threeee :) Lmk if u love this and I'll write more (feel free to leave me lots of comments and interactions, they motivate me!!)

last chap | A03 | masterlist

part 3

Ache.

Vicious and prominent throughout each and every bone and dip within your body.

Horrible, familiar ache.

The sun was blinding, scorching redness onto your skin like ripe cherry tomatoes.

A few soft, scattered blinks and your gaze parted to white. Squinting amongst the hazy glow, the silhouette of an old, brimmed hat and a noseless shadow centered.

It was him.

“Mornin’ sweetheart.”

Your back was stiff, pressed against the decayed, withered roots of an old weeping willow. Your body was postured straight, tied tight by ropes you wanted to scratch at with haste if you could.

It took you a few more blinks, a few more moments past the confusion to remember just about everything that had transpired.

The experiments, the cage, the brunette and the Ghoul. The same Ghoul who was chewing on rotted straw with dark, curious eyes admiring his rope-work, running up and down your pallid figure.

Your heart rate sped then. You didn’t much like being contained— and it seemed as though you had only been traded from one cage to another.

You gon’ make me lots of money…

His distant words pounded against your skull in an infinite echo, swelling at your brain like a bee sting.

It all settled, then.

Your eyes widened, breaths more labored now as you struggled against the ropes with the very small amount of strength you had gained from your slumber. It wasn’t much.

He only watched you for a moment with a rather unimpressed expression on his mangled face. But then he smirked.

“Don’t get too rowdy now, sweetie. I won’t hesitate to tighten them ropes.”

The ropes cut into your purpled skin the more you fought against them. They were knotted in more places than you could count. Effortlessly crafted to keep you.

Keep…

“Where are my keepers?”

God…

Your voice was an awful rasp. A horrible, guttural sound. You didn’t recognize it. Then again, you didn’t recognize anything about yourself.

Your question, too. What a silly thing to ask. As if you’d prefer being with them instead.

The horrid creature, the place where his brows would be lifted in surprise. He took his time, his sweetened— honeyed time getting up. Swinging a leg round the scraps he sat upon and lifting to tower over everything in sight. A chill met your spine, acquainted with it.

He was silent, silent as his boots crunched against the bloodied ground. Closer and closer, even closer and never once did his eyes fall from your face.

“Oh… don’t tell me you miss em’ now, darlin’. Yous a masochist behind all them chains and ropes, pretty thing? Hmm?”

He smelled of bitterness and smoke, invasive and poisonous. It didn’t take him long to be a mere step before you— but he invaded it. Your breath left your lips, you poor— confused thing. You were in disarray as you turned your head so to escape him.

That wasn’t allowed.

His hand was a rough, unpleasant thing. Torn up and stitched together by frayed threads. It was foreign yet warm against your chin as he roughly redirected your gaze to him again. Demanding your attention. He hummed in dark approval when you lifted your wide eyes to find his.

“Hope not. They took all that meat off them bones o’ yours. We gon’ have to sweeten you up again, ain’t we?”

He was suffocating you. Every fiber of you. So close now that his breath was kissing your cheek.

Your gaze narrowed, jaw blooming with tension-coiled poppies.

“I could kill you.” You practically spat and God— how right you were.

You didn’t know the how or the why, the reason or the answers. No, you didn’t know any of that at all. What you did know, however, was that whatever fueled the crimson laced in your palms was enough to bring any ghoul to their knees. He could be no different.

And yet?

He laughed. A raspy, weak sound. Golden teeth on full display. Your head fell into a tilt of confusion, he followed it— huffing out a breath when he was done getting a kick from your words.

“Oh I know, sweetie. I know. But do you?”

But do you…

Three simple words forming a question that brought more fear to you than any ropes or chains ever could. You couldn’t remember. That was just the problem.

The sound of sharp metal scraping against worn leather made your wide eyes dart toward his free hand. The mangled Ghoul lifted a shined, silvered blade from his holster and pointed it right to the most vulnerable place at your neck.

You gulped, lips parting as your chest rose and fell. The cruel creature… he was teasing you, and he was enjoying it. There was mischief lit up like golden globes in his eyes, a soft and sadistic kind of smirk just ghosted on his lips. He scraped the blade against your soft skin, dragging it from your collarbone, up to your jugular, then right to your chin— all the while following the dangerous path with his eyes.

He could have sunk the blade in. Ended it. Turned in your body for far too many caps to count but… he didn’t. No… instead he brought the blade to the same ropes he caged you with and he set you free.

Your body was a home for every pin and needle in existence to dwell. Soon as your ropes fell to the dilapidated ground, you fell with them. On your hands and knees before his scruffy boots.

He stood there like that for a moment, looking down at you kneeled at his feet. Perhaps he was waiting to see if you’d run. You didn’t. Not because you didn’t want to but rather because you were afraid.

Afraid and confused.

Your eyes darted to your surroundings and every single inch of them was unfamiliar. How would you survive?

When the Ghoul was certain you were staying put, he parted from you; walking slow back to his seat of scraps as he ruffled some papers away from his coat.

With a clear of his throat, he began…

“Y/N Y/L/N. Age? Unknown. Species? Radioactive superhuman. Now ain’t that some wild shit, darlin’? You. Little ol’ you and you ain’t the least bit scarred or mangled, huh?”

You blinked, his words only a blur of nonsense you couldn’t quite break apart enough to be coherent. You cautiously lifted your head, gaze settling in on him again. He sat proudly, satisfied with all this. Right ankle rested atop left knee and stained paper gripped in ancient hands.

He looked on at you once, satisfied to know he had earned your attention again. With a deeper smirk now, he continued louder.

“Subject can absorb harmful radiation n’ process it to gain sustenance. Oo’ wee… n’ there’s more. Y/L/N possesses the innate ability to manipulate any form of power er energy and project it from her very hands— my my. Look at you. A god damn X-Man, ain’t you?”

His words, though understood in your conscious mind, you didn’t understand the importance of them. All you knew to be true was that people were afraid. Horrified.

Yet not him.

Not him…

Your breath left you, exhausted by the heat and position, and you bowed your head again. He silently skimmed through whatever else was printed on that precious page, and when he was satisfied? He tossed it aside and focused his attention back on you.

“Now I had thought that I was real damn lucky to have found you, you little money maker. But no, oh no darlin’— that just ain’t true. See, I ain’t got no use for ya’ if you kill me fore’ I get my payout. N’ you can— kill me. Ain’t a fool to admit it. You ain’t like me, you ain’t like vaultie or any of those tin soldiers. Nah, yous real special. Different. I thought bout’ dumpin’ you when I read this ol’ thing but damn it, sweetie… I must have a lil’ thing for strays.”

His tangent was laced with only parts you could keep up with. You were worth something, but he was unlucky to have you. He had a thing for strays, but he was set to dump you. You weren’t like him, but he too was a monster.

“You’re awfully contradictory…” it left your lips far before you could stop it, moving to sit or rather slump back against the tree as you spoke. Your ribs poked against your skin.

“Mm.” Is all he offered, staring on at you for a few more painfully long moments before he lifted again. He was even slower now, even more cautious in his approach. Towered before you and shifting so to squat— eye to eye you were again.

“See truth be told, sweetie, s’ you that needs me. Even exchange, really. Gon’ use you for all you’re worth, and you gon’ be fed real well. Ain’t gonna be held by no chains or rope. N’ I’ll teach you how to really, truly hurt a man enough to keep m’ down— understand?”

He wanted to help you…?

You didn’t have much experience at all with being, well, alive. That you remembered, at least. Living truly, not just breathing. Even so, if you searched hard enough beneath the surface of his words, you understood them. He needed you for your powers, as everyone else seemed to, and as a courtesy in return? He’d teach you all the things your keepers wouldn’t dare to, all the things orbiting planet freedom.

He was a stranger.

Then again… everyone was.

Your silence, your unspoken dilemma confined in your aching mind— it was enough to provoke his voice again.

“You can go on n’ run into that city, you know. Oh I ain’t gon’ stop you, pretty thing. No I ain’t. You know what will, though?”

Your gaze became a glare, and yet he was expectant.

“Go on, ask me.”

You didn’t quite follow, and yet if one thing was clear in your gaze and your consciousness? It was him… his commands.

“What?” Is but all you whispered, and it satisfied the mangled man enough to make him sigh.

The same awful, torn up hand that had lifted you into his arms. The same hand that had tied you hostage with rope and flipped through your dilapidated file, that same hand, it lifted once more so to brush away the hair sticking against your dampened forehead. You shivered at the sensation.

Gentle… the most gentle you’d ever felt in your entire consciousness; and from a Ghoul.

His eyes glazed over you like jam to buttered scone and with a twitch of his jaw and a tilt of his skull, he gave you the answer you were silently seeking…

“You will…”

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deliciousbasementtrash · 1 year ago

Text

Playing Nurse for the Batfam

From Injustice Gods Among Us Year 5 #15

Summary: you are a nurse working for Gotham General Hospital. Batman has offered you a job. Will you take it?

Pairing: Slowburn Jason Todd x reader, (maybe a why choose with Dick Grayson as well?? Idk tell me what you guys want)

Warning: Adult language, parental abuse, parental neglect

Word Count: 1.6k

Note: These characters are not my own they belong to DC. The only character that is 'mine' is the reader. I am going to be as nondescript as possible for the reader as well for physical attributes. This is a continuation series; I’m not sure how long it will be. Also for some reason, my replies to comments are not showing up. I’m not ignoring your comments Tumblr won’t let me respond :( But please, please comment I live for it

Part One, Part Two

Part Three: Skip-Bo and Chess

My mind raced as I went over the contract. Everything seemed too simple, too easy. The only terms and conditions I had to abide by were that I wouldn’t reveal his identity and that I would need to essentially be on call from the hours of 21:00 to 7:00, but roughly 24/7. The pay was a ridiculous amount. The insurance was crazy good. I didn’t realize it was possible to get that much coverage. But this went against everything I have represented in my life. Would I be betraying the people of Gotham, my patients, and my fellow coworkers, by taking this job? Would I be betraying myself and my past history?

Gotham City: 16 Years Ago

My father and I stood over my mother’s grave. It was strange. My mom was a woman who breathed life into everything. She never wore a dull color, she danced whenever she could, and she sang horribly and off tune. She wore her hair in two long braids with colorful ribbons. She wore sweet perfume. She wore red lipstick. She wore so many necklaces and bracelets she jingled when she walked. She snorted when she laughed. And now when I looked at her all I saw was dirt and a gravestone. Her colorfulness, her loudness, her laughter, her joy, all of it was gone. I knew I couldn’t cry though. Not in front of Dad. He got so much meaner when I did. Sometimes I wonder what my beautiful, colorful, caring mother saw in this cruel bleak man. But I guess his bitterness was supposed to balance out her sweetness.

But without her, it felt like I was choking on the disgusting taste of my reality. We were grieving. We had no money. And the debt just seemed to be getting deeper and deeper. I tried selling homemade cookies at school to help out. I raised about 22 dollars. I came home with a smile on my face and handed my father the money. He pocketed it without another word. It was almost worse when he was like this.

It felt like he was a teapot that was brewing and I was just waiting for the wrong thing to set him off.

Some days when I came home from school he was home. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t look at me. Other days he wasn’t there. I had to scavenge the house for food or walk to the convenience store with what little money I had scurried away.

It felt like my life had become black and white without my mom. Everything seemed so hopelessly bad. Then one day my dad came home with a smile on his face. My first instinct was to tense my body and avert my gaze. I didn’t know what he was going to do.

“Sweetie, come with me. I have an idea,” my father said, grabbing my wrist and pulling me out the door with him.

He drove like a maniac and pulled up towards a seemingly abandoned building. My blood ran cold with anticipation.

My father practically ripped me out of the car and dragged me inside. Inside there were about twenty men all pretty beat up. All of them looked at me. I picked at my hangnails and looked at my father.

“Y/n, these gentlemen need to be healed. Be a doll and heal them.” My father’s words were clipped, and my pulse raced. I merely nodded and healed man after man. It became clear to me, even at my young age, that these men were a part of a gang. Who’s? I had no idea.

That was until a fat man in a tuxedo and a cane walked up to my father. He handed him a bundle of cash, they whispered some hurried words and the grotesque man leaned down towards me.

His short fat finger booped my nose, and the man tilted his head back and laughed at my reaction. I wanted to bite his finger off. I wanted to go home. I wanted my mom.

For the next two years, my father did business with anyone that could pay him. Our life went from living by the penny to living in luxury. All due to my power. The richest of the rich, politicians, businessmen, criminals, and villains, all used my services. And eventually, they tried to buy me.

That’s when I decided to run away. Or die trying.

Gotham City: Present Day

I sat across from Sam, my best friend, and nurse colleague. “What do you think I should do?” She was the only one that I trusted enough to tell everything to. Of course, I left out the whole, ‘My boss would be Batman thing.’

“Girl, if you don’t take this job I will kill you,” Sam said, taking a large bite of her pasta.

“Do you think I’m betraying my younger self? I promised I would never be bought. I would never work for a corrupt man.”

“Maybe you should discuss with Mr. Wayne, that you would like to remain a nurse part-time. That way you ease your conscious about everything but still live in a fucking MANSION and make BANK, you dummy head. And this way you’re reclaiming your past. You get to choose. You’re not trapped.”

I mindlessly pushed my food around my plate, lost in thought. “That’s not a terrible idea.”

“Of course not, I never have bad ideas. Take one more night to think about it. But I think you have your answer.”

That night I tossed and turned in my bed. I grabbed my phone, the bright screen making me blink.

[I accept your terms, but I do have a few remediations to the contract. Signed, y/f/n y/l/n.]

One week later.

“How are you taking to your new living situation, Miss y/l/n?” Alfred asked as he expertly julienned an onion. I not as gracefully diced several cloves of garlic across from him.

I looked up at him, smiling, “I’m still getting used to it, to be honest.” It had become a silent routine over the past week. When I wasn’t working at the hospital, or patching up Batman, I got bored. So, I started helping Alfred with cooking.

He taught me how to play chess. I taught him how to play Skip-Bo and dominos. I had grown quite fond of the man over the short period. It most definitely was my daddy issues clinging to the first nice man I saw. But Alfred Pennyworth seemed truly kind to me.

I hadn’t met any other members of Bruce’s family, but supposedly they were all meeting for dinner tonight. For some reason, my pulse spiked at the thought of meeting them. My past gave me anxiety when meeting new people I didn’t know.

As if reading my thoughts Alfred asked, “How are you feeling about meeting everyone tonight?”

I cut a piece of garlic a bit harshly, “I’m– I’m fine. Do you know if I am to meet them after the dinner or before?”

Alfred’s eyebrows quirked, “What do you mean? You most probably will meet them at dinner. You are attending are you not?”

“I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to eat with the family or not,” I stated, hesitantly.

I heard a twang of metal as Alfred set down his knife. He gave me his full attention as he said, “Master Wayne may seem abrasive, Miss. But I assure you, he would never have to eat separately unless that is what you wished.”

Abrasive was one way to put it. He often reminded me of a feral cat when I tried to heal him. He would practically hiss that he was fine. I had to politely remind my employer a few times that this was what I was here for and to let me heal him.

We cooked in silence for a while, when out of the blue I asked Alfred, “Alfred, are you happy?”

Alfred always holding his poise answered calmly, “Happiness is something that fluctuates in my life, Miss. I will say that knowing that Master Wayne and the rest of the family are in your capable hands is reassuring me as of late. I also have been enjoying your company, no matter how many times you beat me in Skip-Bo.”

I laughed, a true genuine laugh. “Hey, you win every time we play chess!”

Alfred smiled softly, “Miss I have been playing chess since I was five years old. If I lost I think I would have to revoke my Englishmanship.”

After my laughter died down, another question popped in my head, “What are they like? Mr. Wayne’s family?”

Alfred smiled, “Those children are loud, argumentative, loyal, funny, stubborn, etc. I love those children with everything I am. You will too, Miss y/l/n.”

An unfamiliar sense of warmth bloomed in my chest, “Thank you, Alfred.”

“Thank you, Miss y/l/n.”

As I was getting dressed. I could not pick out what I wanted to wear. Did I want to go casual with a tee shirt and jeans? A bit more formal with a dress? Semi-casual with a skirt and sweater? I decided on the last one, with some tights on underneath. I wanted to make a good impression. It felt like the first day of school. I made my way down the stairs. No one had arrived yet. I took a seat next to Alfred, my leg bouncing.

Alfred patted my shoulder when we heard the door open, “It will be just fine.”

The loud oncoming footsteps mimicked my thundering pulse.

442 notes · View notes

naomikozura · 6 months ago

Text

Playing with Fire: Chapter 2

Jason Todd (Red Hood) x Fem!Reader (Criminal)

Trope: Enemies to Lovers, Forbidden Romance

Warnings: strong language, use of weapons, aggressive fighting, harassment, murder/killing people, bombs and explosives, mention of burn injuries (minor) , mentions of gang violence (minor), emotional turmoil (if you squint) (lmk if I missed any!)

WC: 6.7K

Summary: The last few weeks have been filled with busy jobs, this one is no different. Sneaking into a secure server base containing everything you need seems easy enough but what happens when a simple mission turns into a death trap? You fight for your life, but not without playing for the upper hand.

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1 || Chapter 3

Your legs hung off the edge of the desk, looking over at Carmine who was talking to one of the other girls. Sionis and Penguin talking over their next move. Sionis, per usual, was cursing about Red destroying another one of his operations, trying to find a way to get this man’s head in his trophy case.

“He hijacked the entire shipment of kryptonite. Do you know how expensive kryptonite is?!”, you heard him stress out loud, though you knew that kryptonite was expensive, around $25,000 per gram. This entire shipment was probably well over $50 million due to the amount of cases he had on the boat.

You knew a loss that big made Red be on Sionis’ rader even more. The one thing Sionis hated more than anything was losing money. This case, $50 million.

“We need to trick him,'' you heard Sionis say. Turning to look at you, then he smirked. “Why don’t we set a trap for him, a pretty one.”, he lifted your chin to look at him. Your eyes shifting to hatred in a split second. “You know how to seduce men, especially with this body of yours.”, you wanted to punch him in the face. The fact that this man was completely oblivious to who he was talking to.

You really wanted to punch him, but you heard Penguin speak up, “Sionis. You make another comment as brainless as that again, I’ll make sure my men get off protection for your operation.”, you silently thanked him. Sionis stepping back. You kept your eyes on him, his tall stature disappearing through the door to ask for another drink. You turned to the Boss who looked at you and handed you your gun back. He had replaced the bullets in it, ensuring you kept it loaded no matter what. You took the pistol from him and placed it on the inside of your shorts.

Penguin had moved into the office for a moment, having a call as you stayed in the main room with Black Mask. You watched as he stared at you, not hiding his obvious interest in you.

“Y/n, what’s a man gotta do to get a little attention around here?”, he asked openly, drink in his hand as he took another sip.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You’d have to be easy to look at first of all”, his eyes narrowed as a wide smile cracked on his face.

“You’re a spitfire aren’t you?”, he leaned forward. “Is that why so many men want a piece of you? Because you leave them on their toes? You playin’ hard to get?”

“You really don’t know when to quit so you?”

“Give me a chance. You won’t know what it’s like to be with a real man until you’ve been with someone like me”, his voice made you cringe. How did this fucker gain so much confidence in himself when he was horrid to look at.

“Not. A. Chance.”, you bit out.

“C’mon sweets, let’s have some fun” he tried getting closer to you, your body in fight mode as you pushed him off.

“Let me go mother fucker!”, you pushed him, angry that he could accept no as an answer.

“You don’t even realize what you're doing”, he cursed, his eyes narrowed at you as he planted a hand next to your head. Your body flush against the wall as he towered over you. “You could have it all, sweetheart.”

“I already have it all. I did it all on my own.”, you said through clenched teeth. “I don’t need anything from you.”

“Alright, Y/n. But you’ll come around sooner than later.”, he laughed before walking back to the couch, leaving the taste of disgust in your mouth.

You couldn’t understand why Black Mask had taken a liking to you, or when it would stop but you needed to keep him at a distance. He may be one of the boss’s partners but you were skeptical of him and didn’t trust his motives.

He helped keep money in your pockets and you knew he would be the one to help bring down the Red Hood but for some reason, even with all that you couldn’t bring yourself to let him off the hook.

Your intuition was never wrong, you could always sense out when people stood by their word and when they didn’t.

Sionis was one of those who didn’t.

You turned back over to Penguin as he stepped out of the office, holding a paper and handing it to you. It was a court document with the name and release date of an Arkham Asylum prisoner. Why would they need to come out?

“He gets released in three months. He will be our biggest playing card to take down the Red Hood. Maybe we can find a way to expedite his release.”, Penguin mentioned, your attention fully on the person on paper. It was true they were a heavy hitter, but three months was a long time and would result in more loss of revenue if the Boss waited that long. Then again, Penguin had ties on the inside that could help get the release date to get moved up.

“What do we do until the process pulls through?”, you asked, setting the paper down as Sionis picked it up.

“You can work on the Calvi case.”, he mentioned.

“How are we busting him out? I want him to catch the Red Hood tomorrow!”, Black Mask muttered as he threw the paper back on the table.

“Patience. For the meantime, we’ll keep business as usual and make sure Hood can’t get in on our jobs. So far it seems he’s only getting on certain operations. We’ve been keeping track and it seems he only goes for high grade weapons.”, Penguin took a sip of his drink before setting it down. “He might be trying to get someone’s attention.”

“Is it the Bats?”

“Who knows. But if it is, we will plan accordingly and make sure we can get both of them.”

“Two birds, one stone”, you said softly.

“Exactly.”

“There is a building that holds high range bombs, get intel on how they got into these fucker’s hands from our manufacturer.”

Black Mask’s words rang in your head, Carmine’s intel helping you locate the building holding the ammunition and bombs. There had been a spike in Black Mask’s trades being raided by Red Hood, causing there to be more of Sionis’s men betraying him in the process in order to not get killed.

What a waste of a worker because Black Mask would kill them anyway after finding out about their double cross.

One thing you learned about working for men like them was to never betray them. They enjoyed killing traitors almost as much as they enjoyed getting hundreds of thousands of dollars after every job. It was a risky game to play and you would never find yourself in that situation even if your life depended on it. Your loyalties lied with Penguin and his partners. No where else.

You managed to drop into the building from the other skyscrapers surrounding it, breaking in through a window after disarming the security cameras in your section and finding a vent to climb into in order to spy on the workers.

You crawled through the vent and tried to navigate into the tech room where the main information database was. It would be almost too easy to get in and get the intel you needed to ensure you could find which one of the workers traded explosives over to this mystery buyer and betrayed Black mask.

You loosened the screws on the vent cover, placing it gently to the side and you dropped into the server room in smooth silence. You looked over at the master computer, all the information you needed all held within its drive. You needed to hack into the system, download the current intel, and leave. That was your mission but it wouldn’t be what you would do. You weren’t going to download just the past month of information. You were going to download it all then completely delete it from the cloud to ensure Two-Face’s partners couldn’t get into it.

You quickly plugged your device into the tower, breaking through the first security wall in record time before you managed to bypass the second security wall. You skimmed through the files before you found what you were looking for, connecting the USB into the main server and back into your computer you had built into your suit. It was similar to what Batman used in the field to find information, a simple copy and built out even better than his was. Once you saw the flash of the information downloading, you managed to look into some of the files, noticing a few names that stuck out to you.

Joker.

Black Mask.

Penguin.

Riddler.

Scarecrow.

Bane.

Why were all these names on the server?

You were downloading all the information so you were certain you’d be able to dig into the files later. You kept skimming until one especially caught your attention.

Red Hood.

You stared at the name for a second before clicking into the file, starting to read into it before you heard a crash behind you, your head snapping back to the door before you heard the sound of men talking. You quickly finish out the downloads, having all the information onto your drive and your computer, pulling out the USB and flash drive and stuffing them into your utility belt.

The sound of the men approached faster as you quickly coded in the virus to delete all of the information in the server room, setting it to detonate the system in 10 minutes so you had time to leave, putting the computer in sleep mode as the room darkened. Just as the door handle turned and the men barged into the room, you jumped into the ceiling, quickly pushing yourself away from the vent so they couldn’t look up and see you.

Your heart was pounding in your chest at the close call, slowly backing away as you moved down one of the other pathways in the vent.

The narrow path ended up leading into a big meeting room, looking down you noticed a bunch of men gathered around talking about some business you couldn’t quite make out. You focused on their conversation, hearing Two Face’s name come up along with Black Mask’s and Penguin’s.

Was this where the traitor was? You looked through the slits in the vent, moving your head around to get a better view of who all was present in the room. You held your breath, staying even as you moved forward an inch, observing the room before you felt a sense of panic set in.

You pushed yourself back, the gunshots missing you by an inch before you tried to move through the vents, the loud sound of gunshots shooting off triggered a fight or flight response, leaving you trapped at your limited space before you heard a man yell.

“Get whoever is in the vent! We cannot let them get out alive!”

Shit.Shit.Shit.

You crawled through the vent, reaching an empty hallway as you undid the screws to the vent, quickly placing it to the side as you jumped down to try and find an escape.

Just as you fell down, you felt a body slam into you, causing you to fall to the ground and slam into the wall. You rubbed the side of your head, looking up in confusion as your face contorted in shock and annoyance.

You cannot be fucking serious.

You cursed as you watched his head rise and meet your eye line. “Oh, this is rich.”, he muttered before pushing to his feet and running down the hall. Your head snapped to watch him, hearing as voices sounded from a few meters away before you also rose to your feet and followed behind the red hooded vigilante.

You followed as he pushed through a door, jumping out of the window and using his grappling hook to smash into the window of the floor below. Why must he be so extra?!

You didn’t have time to think before you also jumped out the window, following suit and using your grappling hook to twist into the already broken window and land into the room. As you jumped in and stood, you noticed Red holding a gun aimed at you, your eyes meeting his as you jumped out of the way as the gunshot rang out.

Your body twisted out of the way, pushing yourself off the ground and lunging at him with your serrated knife. He moved out of the way as he tried to reach for you but you were quick, slipping past him as you ran out the door and down the hall. You were in a building that had a bunch of stairs, railings that separated a top floor from the floor below, just like a hospital. You could hear him behind you as he tried chasing you, but you jumped over the railing and landed on the ground right below the stairs. Hearing as he aimed at you and his gun went off, the bullet barely missed by a centimeter before you threw yourself on the ground, turning your body and shooting back at him with your own gun, watching as the bullet dug into his shoulder.

You watched as he gripped where the bullet entered, quickly using his delay to run down one of the halls and into a room that was dark and empty. It looked like a storage room but you managed to shut the door and close it, taking a moment to catch your breath.

Why was he here?

You pulled up the building's blueprints, seeing the entire layout of the 70 story building.

The room that had the explosives and ammunition in it was five stories above and you were on floor 50.

Shouldn’t be too hard to go up so long as Red didn’t see you or the men working here didn’t try to kill you.

Both out to kill you.

You quickly took a deep breath, trying to plan an escape route before you heard the onslaught of bullets raiding the room you just came from. They must’ve seen Red.

You quickly used the distraction as a way to slip out, watching as the men had a full blown shootout with Red. You quickly found the door that led to the staircase, watching the men to ensure you weren’t being spotted. You slid through the chaos seamlessly, almost reaching the door before you felt a bullet graze your ear and hit the wall next to you. You looked up and saw Red pointing his gun at you, giving away your silent escape. It made the men working in the building put their full attention on you, rushing towards you as you quickly ran out to the staircase, the men shooting bullets at you as you saw the massive drop down the stairs. You contemplated for a moment, before hearing the men barge through the doors.

Now or never.

You got up on the railing and pushed yourself off, using the momentum to fall down faster before using your grappling hook to grab onto the railing and pull yourself over to the side. The bullets were still raining down as the men ran down the stairs.

You looked at the number on the staircase.

Floor 40.

Dammit!

You punched the floor in anger, trying to get your shit together before this entire mission went to shit. Red had to ruin everything. You wanted a bullet in his head and you wanted to watch him bleed out.

You pushed yourself up, grabbing the door handle and trying to find an alternative route.

You noticed the elevator. It was a stupid idea, but the stairway was blocked and you probably had a better chance at reaching level 55 through there than you did the stairs.

The outside of the building also left you too exposed. The vents were not interconnected to go upwards so the only real option was the elevator.

You quickly ran over, pressing the up button as it dinged open.

You walked in and pressed level 55, the doors closing as you watched the number go up slowly.

43, 44, 45, 46, 47…

The door dinged open, your eyes making contact with an older, gray haired man. You pulled out your gun only for him to push it upward, the bullet escaping the elevator as he shoved his way in. The door closed and he kept trying to aim punches at you, your body twisted around and dodging but he still managed to land a few hits. He wrapped an arm around your throat, having you in a headlock as he tried to suffocate you. You struggled against him before using the wall of the elevator to push off and hit him on the other side of the small space.

“You little bitch.”, he muttered as he threw another hit at you, hitting you in the stomach as you managed to dig your knife out of the sheath and dig it into his leg, shoving it full force and pulling it out before you dug it into the curve of his neck, his eyes wide in shock as you held his gaze.

You wanted this motherfucker’s last thing to see to be you. You wanted him to know not to mess with Penguin or Black Mask. You needed them to know not to fuck with you.

“I’ve been called worse.” you bit out as you pulled the knife out, watching as he choked on his own blood, the anger in your eyes as he reached an arm out, his strangled noises sounding out as he struggled to make noise. His blood staining your boots and the bottom of your suit.

Your narrowed eyes stayed focused on him until you visibly saw life vanish from his eyes.

The elevator doors opening and the ding sounding out right as his eyes faded into a gray nothingness.

Little bitch.

You walked out, looking around to see if any of the men were nearby, carefully treading through the floor as you pulled up the blueprints, the ammunition room just a few hallways down. You quickly moved through the halls before a wave of annoyance flooded through your veins.

Two more men rounded the corner, the guns aimed at you as an endless round of bullets sounded out, your body quickly moving around and jumping up, kicking one of them in the head with your solid boot as you twisted around and threw your knife into the shoulder of the other man.

You quickly jumped on his shoulders, pushing the knife in and your hands gripping his head, your eyes meeting his wide ones before you smirked and cracked his neck to the side, snapping it as his lifeless body fell to the ground. You pulled the knife out of his shoulder, ripping his flesh as the blood stained the ground before lifting the other's head off the ground.

“200 rounds a second and you’re still too slow.”, you bit out. “Now let’s use the last of your life span for good. Who sold the ammunition and explosives to your buyer?”

“As if I would tell you, you bitch.”, he bit out. “But what does it matter, our job is being carried out tonight.”

You narrowed your eyes, digging your knife into the man’s shoulder.

“I won’t fucking ask again. Next time, it’s through your thick skull.”, you threatened, your face getting closer to his before you repeated yourself. “Who sold you deadbeats the ammunition?”

The venom in your voice made the impact of your words hit harder, but the man laughed maniacally before he tried reaching for his gun. You had about enough of these brainless henchmen.

You ripped the knife out of his shoulder, slamming it into the middle of his skull and twisting it, watching as he faded into a shell of a body.

You pulled the knife out, cleaning the blood on the henchman’s body before putting it back into the sheath.

The blueprints showed the ammunition was in the room around the corner, following its directions and pushing the door open.

Your body stopped in your tracks.

Oh fuck.

Your body moved forward, taking in the sight in front of you.

There were crates of live ammunition filling the entirety of the wall, a live bomb in the middle of the room. It was at least 500 pounds. What were they fucking doing with this? What were they planning?

You moved around the ammunition, trying to ensure you didn’t set anything off. You examined the boxes, scanning the small codes on the crates trying to get the information from the distributor. The information was basic, it only had the type of ammunition, the weapon it could be used for and the address of the building. No real intel into who was in charge of the trade.

A part of you guessed it might’ve been Red who orchestrated this whole thing, but he wasn’t in good with most of the dealers in Gotham, only those who had no power. Who could it have been?

You walked through the room, walking up to the bomb and examining it, the anxiety seeping into your bones.

“You sure know how to leave a blood trail don’t you sweetheart?”

You turned, quickly aiming your gun at the voice. Red.

“Really? You’re going to risk shooting me and setting that”, he motioned at the bomb. “Off?”

You looked at the bomb, then met his gaze again before letting the gun fall.

“No.”, you muttered. “I’m not here for this. Take it for all I care.”

You walked towards the door, trying to get past him and leave the death trap behind you but you felt his hand wrap around your wrist and slam you into the ground. You let out a grunt in pain before twisting your body around, trying to fight his grasp. You wriggled under him as his body weighed on yours.

“Careful sweetheart, you can’t afford a third strike.”

“Fuck off.”, you met his gaze, his bright helmet in your face as your eyes hardened.

“As much as I enjoy our little run-ins, I can’t have you leaving with that flash drive.”

You noticed his hand brushing against your sides, his touch leaving your skin full of heat and irritation. You pushed your hips upward, slamming into him with force to throw him off of you. You bit into his hand, using the only opening you had to get him to loosen his grip.

Your body twisted out of his grasp, pushing yourself to your feet before you stopped in your tracks. That smell….

“Oh, I love feisty women.”, Red said with a smirk in his tone. You almost physically gagged at his comment. You had about enough of men with huge egos.

“Red.”, you said seriously.

“C’mon sweetheart, show me what Penguin’s training has done for you.”

You ran at him, jumping and swinging your foot around and hitting him on the side of his head, hearing the subtle crack of his helmet. He lifted his arms up, throwing hits at you as you moved to avoid the direct hits. He swung around, his hand gripping around your throat as you tried grabbing for your knife, your oxygen being cut off. His grip tightened, throwing you to the ground before placing a boot on your chest, your hands wrapping around his ankle.

“Get off of me!”, you struggled against his weight, hitting him with forceful punches to try and get him off.

“I like seeing you under me like this, it makes this entire job worth it.”

He could not be fucking serious right now!

“Red!”, you yelled at him. You could feel your senses going into overdrive, the smell filling the room faster by the second. You were surprised he hadn’t felt it yet.

An alarm rang out and he finally stepped away from you, the crackling sound faint but growing by the second. He looked towards the door, seeing the bright red burn in the hallway. “Well, it was fun sweetheart, see you on our next date.”.

He turned to leave, jumping out the window and climbing up the side of the building. You could feel the smell getting stronger, the building getting hotter and the smell of smoke growing. You were not going to die here. You walked over to the window, pulling yourself out and going up the side of the building.

Red had already made it to the top, looking over the ledge to ensure you weren’t following. His eyes narrowed and laughed at himself.

Good luck, Sweetheart.

He turned, starting to run to jump off of the building, stopping in his tracks at the sight of you pointing a gun at him. “Where do you think you’re going?”, you kept your gun pointed at him, aiming for the center of his helmet, his eyes narrowing.

“You’re doing this now?”, he bit, his hands balled into fists in annoyance.

“Is the big bad wolf of Gotham scared of a little fire?”

“The fucking building is covered in gasoline, there’s a 500 pound bomb in the building that could go off at any second and you’re trying to fucking taunt me?”

“Is that a yes?” you cocked your head.

“You’re insane”, he threw at you, his body ready to get out of this death trap.

“”I’ve been called worse.”, you grinned, it was a game of chicken, first to break would be giving up the upper hand. The crackling of the fire expanded, the sound of the floors collapsing ringing out as Red stared at you, his body language showing that he was stuck in between staying or running. You knew it was stupid, you knew it could get you killed but a part of you didn’t care. You wanted to show him you weren’t scared, that he wasn’t as big and bad as he made himself out to be. The Red Hood was just as human as anyone else. You were forcing him into a corner and you were loving it.

The fire surrounded the both of you, the faint ringing of the bomb about to go off, the five second alarm, you smirked.

“Goddammit!”, he yelled, pushing his guns back into his holsters and watching the building start to collapse behind you, only having milliseconds before the entire building caved.

You both turned at the same time, trying to keep up with the semi stable ground as the floor caved under your feet, almost cashing you to trip. You kept running to the ledge and launching yourself over the edge, falling down towards the street, you turned to see the building combust into a cloud of smoke and ember. You went to grab your grappling hook, your aim towards the building across, only to see the trigger fail. You kept trying it before you realized it was broken. The building slowly collapsing, the impact almost throwing you off as you felt a burning sensation in your arm.

Dammit!

Your head blanked, your anger about to consume you before you felt an arm wrap around your waist, pulling you in. You felt your body flush against Red as he swung the two of you into the nearby building and broke the window as you tumbled to the ground, your lungs burning for fresh air. You heard the glass shatter around you, your heart pounding in your chest. The force of the explosion had broken the windows around you, the glass chattering on the floor.

Holy Shit.

You really just forced Red Hood into a corner. And won.

Red’s body covered yours, your frame right under his as the glass surrounded you and the burning heat radiated from the building next door. You turned to look at him, his body next to yours as you felt a heat radiating off of his body. His arms still wrapped around you before you pushed yourself away from him and rose to your feet.

“You have a death wish”, he bit out for the second time. You rolled your eyes before walking back over to the ledge, looking out the window and watching the building as it burned from the explosives.

“Where are you going?”, he pushed himself off the ground, watching as your eyes stayed focused on the fire.

“I’m going home.”, you bit out, his figure moving closer to yours as he looked at the burning building.

“You have a burn on your arm.”, he pointed out as you raised your arm up to see the burn, still not registering in your head due to the adrenaline.

“I think I’ll survive.”, you turned to leave, his hand wrapping around your wrist, your body reacting naturally and pulling away. “What the hell?!”

“That burn looks like it’s a first, possibly second degree, you need to get it checked out and wrapped.”

“I said, I’m fine.”, you turned and he stepped in front of you, narrowing his eyes as he grabbed your arm, pulling out a small bandage and a container containing burn cream. He placed some on your arm before wrapping the bandage around, securing it before you even had time to disagree.

You watched him with intent eyes, your pride not allowing you to thank the hooded vigilante. Hell, you shouldn’t even allow him to help you. You should just put a bullet through his head right now. If Penguin or Black Mask saw you right now…

He finished wrapping your arm, his gaze focused on you and the silence building an unbreakable tension, your eyes locked on each other, his hand still on your arm. Neither of you moved, his body close to yours as you felt your eyes soften a fraction before snapping out of your trance.

You pulled away from him, turning towards the opposite side of the building, the silence growing. You had nothing to say to him. He was the enemy. You had one mission and that was to kill him. You kept repeating that to yourself, letting him off the hook this once just for helping you.

“Make sure to change the wrapping in two days or it’ll get worse.”, your ears perked at his voice, turning to look at him but he was already gone by the time you looked back.

This will be your only free pass.

You thought to yourself before turning towards the door, and getting out of the abandoned building, heading home to get some rest from the stress of the night.

Your intel could be shared tomorrow.

The past few days went by quickly, your burn had gotten better and you felt a lot stronger after you let your body rest. You had a hard time breathing after the fire and Penguin gave you a connection to the doctor he had on his payroll. He only stated you had a bit of smoke inhalation and it was nothing serious. You just needed a few days off to rest and recuperate your energy. So you spent the days after the fire cleaning your apartment, taking a few walks around the city, and enjoying your short lived time off before you returned to work that weekend.

Later that night, you wandered to the roof of your apartment building, wearing only pajama shorts and a crop top and left your entire midsection exposed to the wind. You looked down at the road beneath you, remembering the lifetime you once lived in when you’d sit on the roof of that old building with Robin. You couldn’t bring yourself to forget him even after six years, it felt strange especially when you still held a piece of him with you. Just when you thought you would get to know the real him, he vanished. You never got to know him, you only knew he belonged to the life you’d hoped to never be a part of and that he belonged to Batman. He knew the hate you had for the city, the cruelty it had brought onto you. He understood and he comforted you. He was probably the only person in Gotham who understood you back then, and yet, he disappeared.

You felt anger as you gently touched the necklace that he gifted you for your birthday so long ago. It was your good luck charm. It had kept you alive for months, keeping you out of danger. The only time you didn’t have it on, you almost got killed in a street mugging only to be saved by Penguin at such a young age. He trained you, prepared you for this life and his payout made you stay. You couldn’t refuse his offer to work under him. You had become part of the very life you swore you’d never go into. Now, it was too late to turn back.

You replayed the words Red had told you, saying you weren’t special but you knew that your specialties were coveted all around the underground circles of Gotham. You were smarter, more calculated and strategic than the majority of the men in Gotham. You had earned your place and you were not going to let some power hungry lowlife tell you otherwise.

You stayed focused on the moving vehicles down below, taking in the lights illuminating the street as you let out a breath, your shoulders dropping as you stayed still. You didn’t move, you couldn’t feel anything. You just felt…. Tired. Exhausted. Burned out. You couldn’t even bring yourself to move when you felt the cold press as the barrel of the gun was pointed to the back of your head.

“Hey, Sweetheart.”, the distorted voice sounded from behind you, his form an arm length away as his arm stayed up, cocking his gun as it stayed glued to your head.

You turned your head slightly, enough for your eye to look back at him, the tiredness evident from the bags under your eyes and the stress marked in the lines of your face. Red didn’t care, you knew he didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was him getting rid of you and keeping you out of his way.

“Are you going to shoot me?”, you asked flatly, unsure as to why you would question him when he had the upper hand in this situation. You couldn’t bring yourself to care how the hell he even found you here, your tiredness overwhelming your senses. You were ready to crash.

After the eventful week you had, you couldn’t give a damn if he truly chose to pull the trigger, a part of you cocky enough to believe he wouldn’t actually do it. He would have already if he was serious.

“It’ll send my message to your pig of a boss.”, his annoyed tone still managed to stay evident through his distorter, causing you to scoff silently to yourself.

“Do it then”, challenging him was the worst thing you could do right now, but a part of you wanted to test his limits. How ruthless was Gotham’s infamous new cold-blooded killer? “You’ve been trying to kill me for the past month now, what’s stopping you now that you have a clear shot?”

Your eye contact didn’t break, the gun pointed at the center of your head as you turned around. He stayed locked on your gaze, his eyes narrowing as you watched him uncock the gun and put it back into the holster that was wrapped around his muscular thighs. “Go before I change my mind.”, his voice was clipped, almost in annoyance.

“You followed me. I don’t have to go anywhere, asshole.”, you scoffed.

“Go. Home.”, he stepped towards you, his body towering over yours, still not breaking eye contact with you. “Don’t make me take back my act of kindness”

“You’re anything but kind.”, you spat at him, the poison in your words falling flat from the tiredness. His body leaned over yours, focused on you as you held his gaze.

You could tell he was hot with anger with the way his body tensed. You felt another wave of words come up your throat, the sentence quickly dying as he put his hand around your throat. Not tight enough to hurt you, but enough to keep you quiet.

“I won’t repeat myself again, (Y/n).”, he moved you closer to him. “Go. Home.” You glared at him before delivering a hit to the side of his neck, forcing him to let you go.

You stepped back, ready to retaliate if he touched you again. He rubbed the sore spot before running at you, letting you jump over him, twisting your body in order to deliver a kick to the back of his head. You noticed a small crack on the back of his helmet, the kick delivering the damage.

You landed on your feet and he punched the ground, his arms flexing as he pushed himself up, his eyes narrowed on you. You ran toward him, trying to land another hit but he grabbed your arm and flung you over his shoulder, the concrete making your bones crack.

You tried charging at him again, jumping over him only to feel his hands grab your ankle and slam you down, your head connecting with the ground hard enough to leave you with a possible concussion.

You tried to stand, only to feel that familiar combat boot on your chest. You wrapped your hands around his ankle, trying to get the weight off but stopped when you heard the cocking of his pistol. He stood over you, arm outstretched as he aimed the gun at your head for the second time tonight.

You grunted, punching his leg only to be met with the hardness of kevlar plates. The oxygen was slowly fading, you knew he was trying to immobilize you and apparently making you suffocate was his favorite way of doing so.

“Get off of me!”, you struggled against his weight.

“I told you to go before I changed my mind, sweetheart.”, his gun still locked on you.

You punched his leg, trying to wriggle out from under his boot but failed. He didn’t falter, he just pushed his boot further down.

“Let me go god dammit!”

“You really think I'll let you go after you just pulled this shit?”

“Just let me go!”, you struggled, finally stopping as you met his eyeline. Your eyes were filled with tiredness, anger, resentment, but you lost all your energy to try and fight him. You kept squirming until you felt the massive combat boot pull off your chest. You quickly stood to your feet taking a few steps backward. This bastard had it coming.

“Go.” he pushed the guns into their holsters, turning away as you stood there panting. You didn’t say a word, unsure of what to say or do. You needed to go home. You relaxed, moving around him to head back to the ladder that led to your apartment window. As you reached the ledge, that distorted voice rang out.

“This is a one time deal.” his voice called “Next time, I won't hesitate to shoot.”

You turned to look at him, but by the time you did he was already gone. You started down the ladder, reaching the window and forcing it open, climbing in and locking it.

You started undressing, ripping the clothes off as the sweat stuck to your body. You felt gross, exhausted, sore. The shower couldn’t wait anymore. you turned the handle and let the water warm, not before examining yourself in the mirror.

Bruises, gashes, burns, and cuts littered your body, from your shoulders to your stomach and thighs, you were covered in them. You examined each one, taking in and remembering exactly how you got them. Each one from a job, an operation gone wrong, or most recently, encounters with Red. You didn’t know how much longer your body could take dealing with the physical trauma from the jobs you were given, but you needed to tough it out if you were ever going to get out of Gotham.

You walked under the water, the warmth flooding over your body. Rubbing all the dirt and sweat off before you turned it off and stepped out, changing into an oversized shirt and drying your hair. You looked out the window, the light shining in before you turned over and fell asleep, the day finally catching up to you as you drifted out of consciousness.

A/N:

This chapter might be one of the shorter ones I’ll end up writing, just to get things moving along. I already have Chapter 3 in drafts and it’s roughly 10K like chapter 1. Can’t say every chapter will be that long but we have a lot to cover to king chapters it is!

I truly hope you’re enjoying this series as much as I am writing it and please share, like, comment! Give me your thoughts I would love to hear them!

See you next week! xx.

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ladykailitha · 2 months ago

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Around the World Part 3

Hey guys!! Thank you to all who have liked, commented, and reblogged this fun story!

We're in Utah for a little while longer as both Eddie and Steve fun fan encounters.

Part 1 Part 2

It took them a couple of tries at a few stores to get them everything they needed to dress up. But when they got everything, they all piled into Robin and Chrissy’s hotel room to get changed.

Chrissy bit her lip as she looked at Steve. “I mean it’s what he looks like, but it could be anyone, you know?”

Robin nodded. “If we had like green makeup or something that we could put on his fingers and neck, then we could make it look like he’s about to transform.”

“Oh I know!” Chrissy said, snapping her fingers. “There’s this green concealer stuff that when you put it on bruises and shit it hides it really well, but on normal skin it’s very green.”

Steve pursed his lips together and silent walked to his overnight bag that had all his toiletries in it. He rummaged around in it for a moment and then tossed something at Chrissy, who caught it deftly in her hands.

She looked at the object. It was the concealer she was talking about, she opened it to find it half used. She looked up at Steve who was a deep shade of red and Eddie who looked like a kicked puppy.

“Why do you have this, Steve?” she asked slowly, turning the bottle between her forefinger and thumb.

Steve coughed and turned away, absentmindedly scratching his cheek. “So you know how on tour we had to make sure that people didn’t think Eddie and me were a couple?”

“Yeah?” Chrissy said, tilting her head to the side.

“Oooh, gross!” Robin cried. “No, no, no.” When Chrissy didn’t catch on, she huffed, “it’s for hickeys. Hickeys from his boyfriend!”

Chrissy’s eyes went wide and her jaw dropped. “Are you seriously telling me that you have been covering up hickeys from Eddie for almost a year?!”

Steve straightened and said quite proudly, “My boyfriend is very bitey. I think it’s cute.” Then it was Eddie’s turn to go bright red. He shoved his hair in front of his mouth to hide the blush.

“I like biting,” Eddie quoted with a shy smile, “it’s like kissing bu there’s a winner.”

Steve kissed his cheek. “So let’s get all the mocking and teasing out of the way now, but because once we exit this hotel room, it is no longer a valid thing to tease Eddie with.”

“Or Steve!” Eddie added, glaring at a Robin with a mischievous grin.

“You’re no fun!” she huffed, but folded when Chrissy put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Fine, I won’t tease you two about needing fucking concealer because you two are hornier than dogs in heat.”

Eddie deflated. “I just get carried away sometimes. Especially when I haven’t seen him in awhile because we’re supposed to be ‘keeping our distance’ or whatever.” He used air quotes around the phrase.

Chrissy crumpled too. She was all ready to tease them too, but looking at them now, both of them looking so crestfallen, she just couldn’t do it. Because of who Eddie was and who Steve sometimes was, they had to hide their relationship.

“Come on,” she said gently, “let’s get this put on you so we call all go to this convention.”

Steve nodded and followed her into the bathroom to get made up.

Eddie, Steve, Robin, and Chrissy all paid for their day badges and slipped into the convention center. Steve was immediately overwhelmed. He had played to sold out stadiums, but that couldn’t hold a candle to sheer amount of people milling about. Mostly because there was a barrier between him and the people.

They could see all sorts of cosplayers wandering around the halls. Some in crappy little homemade stuff with cardboard and duck tape. Others in minimal effort costumes like they were. Then there were the people in cosplays that must have taken weeks, if not months to make. Warhammer space marines, a Krogan, and War from Darksiders, Hela from Marvel, a nine tailed fox, complete with hand dyed kimono.

They saw a couple of people dressed as angels from that one long running TV show. Then they passed a booth that proudly displayed that they were the Salt Lake City chapter of the Ghostbusters. Complete with their own Echo 1.

What really cinched it though was passing the main stairs and seeing all Scooby-Doo gang people taking group pictures on them.

“Um,” Chrissy said, walking backwards looking at all the Daphnes, all the Freds and Scaggys, all the Velmas and a handful of Scooby-doos. “You don’t suppose that the cars we saw at the McCune mansion were cosplayers, do you?

Robin and Steve shared a glance.

“Maybe,” Eddie said, “but I don’t think I’m willing to take that bet, how about you?”

Chrissy shook her head and whirled around to start walking forward. Maybe it was only cosplayers taking photos, but maybe it wasn’t and like Eddie said not a bet she was willing to make.

Everyone liked their costumes, especially Steve’s.

Eddie was more than a little pleased that he was getting attention as himself and not as Abbadon.

Steve’s highlight was seeing four friends dress up as The Fallen.

“Guys!” he said excitedly, pointing at the four people walking toward them. “The Fallen! I didn’t know people cosplayed as them.”

The guy playing Astraeus stopped. “Are you a fan of The Fallen, too?”

Robin and Chrissy grinned behind his back as he blushed.

“Yeah, you can say that,” Steve said shyly. “I’m really digging the Abbadon costume, though.” He chewed on his lip for a moment. “Can I give you a tip about the crop top, though?”

They all looked around at each other. Faux Abbadon shrugged. “I guess. Thanks for asking first, though.”

Steve smiled broadly. “Yay!” He turned to Chrissy. “Do have safety pins in your purse?”

She blinked at him in confusion. “Why would I have safety pins in my purse?”

“You have safety pins in your purse, right?” he said turning to Robin.

She already had two of them out and held them up. “Of course I do, I’m not a savage!”

“See?” Steve said waving at Robin. “I just assumed that all lesbians kept safety pins in their purse.” He turned back the Faux Abbadon. “Ignore them. I usually do.”

The cosplayers chuckled as the girls squawked in indignation.

He walked up to the Faux Abbadon. “Can I touch your jacket?” The cosplayer nodded. Steve opened it on the one side. “I think the jacket is my favorite part by the way, the construction is really spot on.”

“Thank you,” Faux Abbadon said, “it took me almost a year to make it.”

“All right,” he said, taking the safety pin, “the trick is to pin the sides of the crop top the inside of the jacket.” He pinned both sides. “And of course remembering it’s pinned so you don’t rip the crop top.” He straightened the jacket so it fell naturally.

The dude looked down in shock. “That’s how you get the look! Holy shit. I couldn’t figure out how it seemed slope on the sides, but I could tell it wasn’t cut that way.”

“There you go!” Steve said brightly. He turned to the Faux Astraeus who had stopped in the first place. “To brag a little, I was an EMT on their last tour, I could tell you the kind of paint and shade he uses.”

They guy brought his hands to his mouth as he gasped. “There’s no way!”

Steve told him about it. He even talked to the other two about their costumes and gave them suggestions about making it better.

The four Faux Fallen walked away happily chatting about what outfits they were going to try making next time.

“That was sweet of you,” Robin said, “but aren’t you worried that with their insider information that’ll use it to pretend to be the band?”

Steve tilted his head to the side and then looked back at the direction the cosplayers went. “Those guys?” he asked with a chuckle. “No. They’re just good fans. We have trackers in our phones and if someone posts that they’re us, Vickie will shut it down so fast they’ll heads will spin.”

Chrissy and Robin exchanged concerned glances, as managers, they knew that it wasn’t that simple. But they didn’t want to take away his joy, so they wisely kept their mouths shut.

They looked around and realized that they were down one Eddie Munson.

“Shit,” Chrissy muttered. “I should’ve been keeping a better eye on him.”

Steve pulled out his phone to call him when Robin spotted him at a nearby artist’s booth, happily chatting with the artist and as they got closer they could see why. It was covered in Corroded Coffin fan art. Like really good fan art. Like hire her to do the next album cover, good.

As they got close they could hear what they were talking about.

“I’ll take two of the 11x18 of the whole band, please,” he said with a grin.

As she handed them to him in clear plastic liners, she said, “I swear I’ve heard your voice before, have we met?”

Eddie shook his head and pulled out one of the pictures. “Have you got a Sharpie?”

She rummaged around and found one to hand to him. He signed it right next to her signature and then handed it back to her with an even bigger grin. He lowered his sunglasses and whispered, “I just have one request, post the pic and the selfie after you get back to the hotel.”

“What selfie?” she asked before her brain caught up with who this was.

He grabbed her phone and turned on the camera. He switched to selfie mode and took off his cap to smile broadly for the camera. He snapped a couple of good shots and then handed it back to her.

She looked at the phone for a moment and then signed picture. She glanced up to see he was back incognito. And then it clicked. She started flapping her hands excitedly and squealing on a register that would probably make dogs run for under the sofa.

“None of my friends are going to believe me,” she leaned forward and whispered. “Even with photographic proof.”

Eddie cackled. “I’ll be sure to like it, so be sure and tag me, okay?”

She nodded holding the picture to her chest. She immediately put in a sleeve and then put her purse on top of it. “I think I would rather have my purse stolen than that picture if I’m honest.”

Eddie just winked at her and came lopping back over to his friends. “We need to hurry because any second now she’s going to realize that I paid her for a signed picture and not the other way round.”

They started walking away quickly and just before the blended into the crowd they heard the artist squawk loudly.

“Move faster,” Eddie quoted, “must move faster.”

Laughingly, they made their escape. They continued their day, Eddie making out of the con before he was papped by someone on the street as they got into their Uber. So by the time word got out, Eddie was long gone. Chrissy was very happy to report to the con heads that catastrophe averted.

Then that night as Eddie and Steve were curled up together on their hotel room bed, Eddie liked the artist’s tweet and Instagram posts and confirmed he was there. She admonished him for paying to sign her artwork, but only in good fun. Steve posted his own con experience. #lookwhoimet #thefallen #notreally #justsomereallyawesomecosplayers. Within moments all his bandmates liked and retweeted the post.

Robin in all her chaotic glory retweeted it from The Fallen’s official account. Steve almost felt sorry for them. But not quite.

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence

3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @blondie1006

4- @yikes-a-bee @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten

5- @genderless-spoon @y4r3luv @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

6- @disrespectedgoatman @dawners @thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95 @garden-of-gay

7- @iamthehybrid @croatoan-like-its-hot @papergrenade @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars

8- @ravenfrog @w1ll0wtr33 @child-of-cthulhu @kultiras @dreamercec

9- @machete-inventory-manager @useless-nb-bisexual @stripey82 @dotdot-wierdlife @kal-ology

10- @sadisticaltarts @urkadop @chameleonhair @clockworkballerina

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #rockstar eddie munson #rockstar steve harrington #rockstar au

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writingwithcolor · 1 year ago

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Running Commentary: What is “ok to do” in Mixed-Culture Supernatural Fiction?

Dear readers:

Today we are trying something new. To give you some insight into our process in the Japanese moderator section, we are presenting our response in the form of running commentary to show you how we dissect and answer long asks. We hope this makes clear what points are useful and not useful when sending us a query. As always, this is for learning purposes, not callouts. Be prepared: this is a long one.

To summarize: the asker is looking to create a comic drawn in Japanese manga style, and has provided a long summary of the story and worldbuilding which involves a mix of “reimagined” Japanese yokai mythos and cultural symbols from many other sources. They have questions with respect to cultural appropriation, coding etiquette, and “what is and isn’t ok.”

Opening Comments

I know a common advice when it comes to the thing I am about to ask is to talk to people involved in __, but I struggle with opening up to strangers for reasons I'm uncomfortable explaining.

Marika (M): This is already a red flag. If you want to engage with another culture without talking to people from that culture, then research is going to be very challenging. You won’t have members of that culture to guide you towards sources and perspectives they feel most accurately represents public opinion. If I were in your shoes, I might start with tackling my discomfort when engaging with other people, if only to improve my work. If you aren’t ready to engage with a culture and its people directly, then I think you should wait until you are.

I should note, reaching out to the Japanese mod team at WWC does count as engagement, but WWC should not and cannot be the only point of contact because there is no single, legitimate cultural perspective.

Rina (R): Also, you don’t need to “open up” to strangers or talk to them in person to get perspectives. Asking specific research questions anonymously to a forum or on social media requires very little vulnerability. You managed to do it here on WWC. So give it a try!

Anyway, my question basically amounts to the what is and isn't ok [sic] in terms of depicting fantasy creatures and concepts outside of their respective culture.

R: So, the reason why we turn away rubber stamp questions by that ask “is XYZ okay?” is because “okay” & “not okay” 1) is vague and 2) creates a dichotomy where there isn’t one.

When we say something is “not okay,” do we mean:

It’s offensive to the general majority of XYZ group?

It’s contentious among people who ID in the group?

It has a potential to be interpreted in a certain negative way, but may not be a red flag to everyone?

Insetad try asking:

What are the reasons this subject is offensive?

What makes cultural appropriation bad?

When might it be “okay” to intentionally discuss a difficult or controversial topic?

What is your reason for including something that may be interpreted as offensive and can it be sufficiently justified?

What stereotypes or tropes might it be consistently identified as or associated with, and why?

When might it be justified to bring up these tropes?

With That In Mind...

Let’s get into the rest of the ask below.

…a story I've been working on in recent times is largely inspired off the Japanese yokai, and the setting is basically Earth in the far future, as far as when the next supercontinent may form. These yokai, although portrayed differently here, do retain their main characteristics [...] Included in this world are two goddesses of my own creation, primarily representing the sun and the moon. [...] There will be thirteen nations, named and based after the Chinese Zodiac, and the life force found in the living things in this world, called qi, comes in two forms that are always opposing each other but can never fully overpower the other, this being based off yin and yang. They're even directly named this; yin qi and yang qi.

M: This reads more like using Japanese and Chinese culture for the “aesthetics”, not the cultures themselves, which I personally feel falls under cultural appropriation. From a world-building/ coding standpoint, the actual use of concepts is workable, and, dare I say, typical, given how Chinese cosmology influences Japanese culture. However, naming a concept “yin qi” or “yang qi” is the equivalent of naming something “- charge” or “+ charge”, respectively. That you don’t seem aware of this tells me you are pretty early in your research phase. In that vein, we’ve covered translating terms and names from foreign languages in fantasy before. See the following article linked here for our recommendation against using RL terms outright but instead encouraging people to create their own conlangs.

R: Worldbuilding-wise, I think you would have to figure out the chicken-or-egg of the zodiac nations. Did the nations come first, and the zodiac later as an origin folk story (which you would have to rewrite to serve the nation-building narrative)? Did the zodiac come first, and the nations named (most likely re-named) by a political entity? What is the justification? Otherwise, again, it’s a shoehorning of aesthetics.

There is also a third, lesser known god based off of fox spirits and trickery and I imagined he's the patron deity of a family that honors and worships him, but his influence on them has transformed them into Kitsune-tsuki, which I depict as fox-like anthros.

M: Not related to this ask directly, but I have jokingly ranted about how often non-Japanese people prefer using imagery related to kitsune-tsuki in Japanese coded world-building (link). This makes me feel the same level of petty irritation. See my troll answer below for a similar experience.

R: Same. It’s boring tbh.

M: Troll Answer: I get that kitsune-tsuki are very sexy furries, but Japanese folklore has other sexy furries too! These underrepresented demographics also deserve recognition and appreciation!!

The plot of the story is this; modernization has left the goddesses neglected of their worship and forgotten, something that is necessary in this world to stop them from fighting each other. The Moon Goddess awakens first, punishing the humans by unleashing the yokai. Then the Sun Goddess wakes up to fight in humanity's defense…

M: This could feel rather like Shinto-like coding (Ex. the myth of Amaterasu and the Cave, or Tsukuyomi slaying Ukemochi), but something about this scenario feels a bit too binary in terms of themes of good v. evil, light v. dark to be Shinto. The plot also feels more Gaelic/ Nordic in influence for me as a person raised in a Japanese Buddhist and Hindu household. I imagine this dissonance could have been fixed with better guided research.

…but their fighting has caused a perma-eclipse and this world is in danger of ending. The yokai have run rampant; some are loyal to the Moon Goddess, and some aren't, and it lies to the main characters to bring balance back to Midgard. Yeah... the name of this future Earth is Midgard. I debate changing it since it and some other things I will mention sorta feel out of place.

R: Marika, looks like you were right on the Gaelic/Nordic influence /j

Also, worldbuilding question: if the Earth is in the far geologic future, how long has it been since modernization (19th-20th century)? Centuries? Millennia? How long has this fighting gone on for? What triggered the perma-eclipse, and why now? Why is this time depth necessary?

One of the main characters in question is a humanoid woman with wolf features named Ling, and she is a descendant of the dynasty that had first ruled the one of the nations, particularly the one based off the dragon zodiac. She accidentally summons the other main character to this world as she's praying at a shrine, a humanoid with dragon features--I call them drakon--named Angelynn.

[on the names of characters] is it appropriating by not having the world entirely based on [Chinese, Japanese, and Indian] influence? it's a little weird to me how worldwide the creatures are referred to as yokai, implying a strong Japanese influence not unlike how it is today with Western culture being so dominant, yet there are still names like Keith and Kiara.

M: I will give you credit for recognizing you have unconsciously veered towards white-washing/ race-bending: either presenting European cultural influences (drakons, Angelynn, Keith, Kiara, Midgard) as default or utilizing general E. Asian cultural influences and aesthetics for a Western-style story (Ling, qi, Chinese zodiac, yokai). I agree with you that this creates a sense of cultural dissonance. At this point, I’d say you have a clear choice: write a Western-style high fantasy using a background with which you have more familiarity, or get some better guidance on research with East Asian cultures so you can code the story more effectively.

The focus of this story is centered around meeting all these yokai and showing that there's more nuance to them than Ling believes, all while saving the world. But I worry if I'm appropriating these concepts and creatures by 1, drawing from more than one culture--I initially imagined that there would be a mix of Chinese, Japanese and Indian influence because according to a website I am getting the info on yokai from, the yokai in question already draw inspiration from or have been based on something in Chinese mythology or Hinduism [...]

R: Sure, some yokai have Chinese or Hindu parallels as that tends to happen with folk tales. But not all–some are unique to Japan, and some are more modern. Sometimes it’s very political–some people consider the Ainu Korpokkur as being a “Yokai of Japan” despite it belonging to the indigenous culture. It’s up to you to research, untangle, and understand these influences.

The fact that you bring up that the Asian continent has seen a lot of cultural exchange is not a sufficient reason to randomly combine influences for the sake of visual appeal or “coolness.” That is appropriation. These influences must be understood in their historical context so that you know how/why certain things combined or morphed into another, and what makes sense to combine/morph.

M: This also indicates that the character views the yokai as evil/inherently bad, which I would argue is not a typical stance for much Japanese folklore. Again, this shows a deficit in research.

2, reimagining these yokai in a new context even though I have done the research on them, because one thing I kept seeing in regards to cultural appropriation is that it's bad to do that […]

R: Refer above to my note on “okay” and “not okay.” The thing with folklore and fairy tales is that every–and I mean every–folk tale is reinterpreted with every new iteration of it. Reimagining in a new context is what people do every time they pass on a story or tell a story with the same plot or characters. Do not think of folklore as an “original” that is altered and rebooted, but rather a living document that gets added to. Reimagining is not the inherent issue. HOW you reimagine something matters.

So I suppose my question is...if someone were to do research upon the creature they want to use, given they are allowed to use it, and gained an understanding of what the creature or concept stood for, are they allowed to pick it apart and reimagine it? Alternatively, is it ok if it's explicitly pointed out that it is derivative of the original?

It has actually become my biggest fear that I may have internalized something that could both continue to do harm long after the fact and attract the wrong people to me work. I don't wanna let people down!

M: As Rina has noted several times, I think the problem is in trying to ID a set of specific variables and circumstances that make a thing “okay” or “not okay.” I want to recommend that you read my joking response about writing in secret rooms while wearing a disguise (Linked here). Who can you hurt if no one knows what you are doing? There’s a difference between creating for oneself and creating to share.

You have internalized a message incorrectly, but not the one you cite. The goal of many recommendations against cultural appropriation is to avoid causing direct harm to people who have seen their cultures demeaned, discredited and devalued, especially in shared spaces. Assessing cultural engagement, whether we are talking about appropriation, appreciation or exchange is not a measure of personal virtue or a collection of commandment style do’s and don’t’s. Rather, I believe engaging with other cultures is the state of mind of acknowledging that when using these cultures’ in one’s own work, there is value in consulting members of that culture and giving credit where credit is due. This will be challenging if you are only comfortable engaging with all of these cultures in a distanced, minimal capacity.

FWIW, I’ve written stories that probably will offend people from other cultures and backgrounds, but I don’t show them off. I don’t think writing these makes me a bad person, but I also don’t see the need to give unnecessary offense, so those stories are just for me, to be written and read in my own secret room. However, I’m not ashamed of having written them, and I’m also comfortable to “let people down” provided that my own shared work reflects my personal principles of what I consider to be sufficient research and engagement with other cultures, As a creator, my work wouldn’t be mine if I didn’t first please myself. I think the trick to the creator role is deciding what to keep private, what to share and what constitutes sufficient engagement.

P.S.

We’ve referenced the need for research multiple times in this ask, and in some of the other asks that have gone up this week, so we thought this would be a good place to plug a beginner’s guide to academic research created by the mod team.. Look for it soon under WWC’s pinned posts!

#japanese #chinese #fantasy #cultural appropriation #coding #worldbuilding #names #mythology #folklore #fairy tales #asks #running commentary #writeblr

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absurdthirst · 2 years ago

Text

Accidentally Mrs. Bravo {Dieter Bravo x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 24.8k

Warnings: Drug use, alcohol, dub con due to spiked drinks, vaginal sex, oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal fingering, Dieter being a sub, face sitting, period oral (Dieter has his red wings), hand jobs, angst, Dieter being a sassy asshole.

Comments: Being PR for Dieter Bravo is a nightmare, the idea of him going to Vegas for a birthday weekend absolutely horrifies you. Even more when it’s suggest you go with him. It’s going to be horrible, you just know it. Especially when you wake up married to him.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

When Dieter told his team he wanted to go to Vegas for his birthday, you had told him no. As his PR manager, Dieter and Vegas are a bad combination. God knows what he’d do when fuelled by drugs, gambling and endless booze. Surrounded by people with camera phones and men and women who would want him to fuck them. Maybe get knocked up. You get a headache even thinking about it. When his manager suggested you accompany him to make sure he says out of trouble, you protested and put your foot down, telling her that you hate Vegas. It’s a cesspool of bad decisions. However, the next thing you know you’re on a private jet going to Vegas while Dieter snorts coke off of the mahogany table while his “friends” drink champagne. You know this is going to end in Disaster.

Inhaling deeply, Dieter throws his head back, letting the endorphins rush through his system and he lets out a loud whoop. “Fuck, that’s some good shit!” He crows and looks around, spotting you sitting in one of the plush leather chairs across from the couch with a sour look on your face. “You want some?” He asks, offering you the one hundred dollar bill he had rolled up to snort the coke with. “Maybe it’ll get that stick out of your ass.”

You watch him with disgust. You might have been hired to handle his PR but the man makes it a never ending job. Being caught with prostitutes, arrested with coke possession and a general bad attitude with paps has made you have many a sleepless night. This trip will be no exception. “No, thank you.” You respond coolly, shaking your head. “The stick will remain firmly in my ass for the entire trip.”

Dieter chuckles, pulling his hand back, “I bet you like having something up your ass.” His joke makes you roll your eyes and you cross your legs, looking out of the window.

Huffing at your lack of appreciation for his joke, Dieter passes the rolled up bill off to one of his friends and frowns at you. “Why are you here if you don’t want to have fun?” He whines. “You should have stayed in L.A.” He doesn’t want you here. All you do is complain about his behavior, his manners, the way he dresses. He wants to relax and have fun, not be nagged to death by a fish wife. If he wanted that, he would get married.

“I don’t want to be here but your team - including me - thought it would be best to come with you to control what happens. The last thing you need with your new movie coming out is a mug shot.” You tell him. “Besides, I have fun. My fun just doesn’t involve doing copious amounts of drugs, having sex with prostitutes, and drinking more tequila than what’s available in the entire country of Mexico.”

Dieter scoffs, “what do you do to have fun? Read?” His words make you bristle, swallowing down your retort that reading would be better than spending him in his company.

“Just behave yourself and we won’t have any issues.” You finally respond, glancing around at his “friends.” All people who are here because of what he can give them, not because they like him as a person.

“I always behave myself.” Dieter gives you an offended look and shakes his head. “Just because I don’t adhere to your version of behaving doesn’t mean I don’t behave.” He chuckles and looks around the plane. “Haven’t you ever just had fun? Fuck what they say or what they think? Just be yourself?”

You try not to react, but his words hit. You went to college for media and you ended up getting a job right out of college with a PR firm. You needed to prove yourself and that meant working all hours. You’ve never really let your hair down and done whatever you wanted. You huff, shaking your head at him. “You don’t behave. You make my job so much harder. I’d hate to see you when you’re not behaving.”

“Have I flashed my dick at the paps?” He asks you, titling his head and smiling in amusement at the mental image of doing just that. “Or come up with some love child with a prostitute? Because I’ve fucked a lot of women. It could have happened.”

God, you hate this man. He’s so self indulgent it infuriates you. He does what he wants, when he wants. Damn the consequences. “Just try to not let either of those things happen during this weekend.” You reach for your phone, deciding to check your emails while he continues to indulge.

When the pilot announces the plane will be landing soon, you steel yourself for what will no doubt be an exhausting weekend. The plane lands and the limos are waiting on the tarmac. Dieter’s assistant - who luckily has the weekend off - had arranged every detail even down to the baggie of coke waiting for him in the limo.

“Vegas baby!” Dieter squints and nods his head so that his sunglasses flip down onto his nose and he pushes them up. He wraps his arm around the girl he had met just this morning who had said she would be willing to go to Vegas with him. He smirks as he looks back at you, “try to keep up.” He tells you before he and the bottle blonde he’s wrapped around stumble down the plane’s stairs onto the tarmac.

You scoff in disgust, watching him squeeze the woman’s ass when she gets into the limo. He’s wearing sunglasses and it’s fucking nighttime. What an asshole. You get into the limo, sitting in the far corner and he has already found the baggie. This is going to be the weekend from hell. The woman kisses his jaw and he manages to snort some coke off of her tits when she pushes them together. “Classy.” You mutter, ignoring the entourage.

Dieter doesn’t even pay attention to you, too busy motor boating Cindy, or was it Kathy? He doesn’t know, nor does he really care. He just wants to get to the hotel and get another bottle of champagne. “We should hit the club!” Someone suggests, and like the easily distracted creature that he is, Dieter latches onto the idea.

“A strip club!” He agrees happily.

You shake your head. “No. No strip clubs.” You put your foot down. You’re not going into a strip club with Dieter Bravo.

“It’s my fucking birthday. We are doing what I want.” Dieter growls, pissed that you’re doing everything you can to ruin his birthday weekend.

“No strip clubs.” You repeat, crossing your arms.

“Go sit at the hotel if you don’t want to go.” Dieter huffs. “This limo is going to a strip club.” He lowers the glass between the back and the driver and grins. “Hey Buddy, take us to the best fucking strip club in Vegas. ‘Kay?”

You huff, knowing you have no choice. You can’t leave him be. He would run riot in Vegas. “You don’t want to change?” You ask, “or check into the hotel?” You frown, knowing he’d requested the best suite at Caesars.

“No. I want to get this party started. We can change later.” Dieter declares.

“Later? It’s nine.” You check your watch.

“It’s early for Vegas.” Dieter shrugs and you sigh, knowing you have no choice.

Fueled by cocaine and champagne, Dieter is the first out of the limo when it comes to a stop. He likes the look of the place, the sound of the music is loud but he doesn’t care. Soon enough he will be watching women dance. “Hey, are there men here too?” He asks, suddenly curious. That would be cool. A strip club that caters to men and women, or people who like men and women.

You exhale deeply, trying to remain calm as you follow the group into the strip club. It's loud and full of bodies - both men and women. Some partly dressed, some naked as the day they were born. A half naked man walks past and you fluster when he winks at you. You have never been somewhere like this and you're no virgin but your life has been pretty vanilla.

It’s nothing but VIP for the group. Even if Dieter wasn’t recognized, a few folded up bills passed to the server assures that you are quickly seated at the best tables. “Uh huh, I want a dance from her and him.” Dieter lowers his glasses and leers over the rim with a grin on his face as a pair of dancers walk past. He turns to watch the rear view and catches sight of you. “I’ll even buy you a dance.” He tells you, blowing you a kiss. “Get you to loosen up. Tuck a few bills in a G-string.”

You roll your eyes and have a sip of the glass of champagne. You won’t get drunk but a glass or two will help you deal with this asshole all night. Some people ask why you work for him if you can’t stand him but honestly, he’s a PR nightmare and you always said you wanted the hardest cases for a challenge. He’s definitely been the hardest. “Gee thanks.” You respond sarcastically.

The woman Dieter brought along is a little offended that he wants a dance and she slaps his chest ‘playfully’ and says “what about a private dance from me baby?”

Dieter rolls his eyes and tugs her close. “Of course I want a private dance from you.” He coos, leaning in and presses his lips to her neck and makes her giggle when he playfully bites her. “Later. We’ll have our own little strip tease.” Later on he has no clue what he will be doing, but she’s fun and he will hopefully get lucky. He’s getting laid for his birthday. Or at least a blowjob. “Don’t you want to shove some bills into his g-string?”

You huff, deciding you might as well do something fun for once. You make a grabby gesture and he grins, handing you the bills. You call a man over and he saunters, moving his hips and he holds out his hand. “Oh, I don’t want a dance. Here, take this. Put it towards your education or your rent or food or whatever. Just - take it.” You shove the notes into the man’s hand who is shocked.

Pouting, Dieter rolls his eyes. “God, you are no fun.” He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest and shoots you a glare. “He was hot, he might have enjoyed the stick in your ass.” He’s pissed that he didn’t get to see the man dance, or see if you would fluster and loosen up. He doesn’t care about the money. It’s about having a good time.

You scoff, “you act like he wouldn’t have been nice to me because he’s getting money. All of these people are here because of your money, Bravo. They aren’t your friends, they want your wallet. Especially her.” You point to Cindy, Kathy, whatever her fucking name is. “I’m going to the bathroom.” You huff, standing up and grabbing your purse. You need to calm down and compose yourself if you’re gonna survive an entire weekend of this.

For a split second, Dieter’s face falls, hurt shining in his eyes before he shakes himself slightly and blinks it away. You’re just pissed that you’re here instead of locked away in your depressing house with whatever boring ass book you were going to read. The waitress comes over and he orders a magnum of champagne and glasses for everyone, including you. You’re at his birthday weekend, you are damn well going to celebrate,

When you come back from the bathroom, there’s champagne flowing and you see the glass waiting there for you. You shouldn’t drink it but you have to. You won’t endure tonight without a drink or two…or maybe three. You sit down and pick up the glass, downing it. You choke on the bubbles and Dieter cheers, clapping his hands. “Now we are fucking talking.”

Little do either of you know that one of his entourage snuck something into your drinks. You sway slightly, a giggle escaping your lips. “Wow. That champagne was so fucking good.” You feel tingly, like you’ve had ten drinks instead of two.

“So you are human.” Dieter gets up and moves around Cindy or Kathy and wedges himself in beside you. His grin is wide and happy and he clinks his glass against yours and takes a large sip of his bubbly. “It’s nice to see it. I didn’t think that I would ever witness you ‘let down your hair’.”

“Don’t get too excited, Bravo. The night is young and I am - I am supposed to be watching over you.” You can’t help the giggle that escapes your lips. You lean against Dieter, all hatred for him seems to have disappeared and you have another glass of champagne. “Happy birthday Bravo.” You cheer, suddenly excited for the night.

****

You groan at the bright light that shines into the room, your head is throbbing and you can barely open your eyes. Fuck, what happened last night. You don’t remember a thing. You wince, realizing you must’ve drank way too much, and you shift, turning over away from the light and you hit something. Without opening your eyes, you reach out, gasping at the feel of hot skin and you freak out, opening your eyes. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck.” You panic, seeing the familiar tattoos on your boss’s back.

Dieter groans, hearing someone’s panicked voice and shifts, turning over and covering his eyes with his hand. “Throw up on the floor.” He grunts, not wanting to lay in puke if whoever he took to bed is about to get sick. He doesn’t open his eyes and groans again, wanting to go back to sleep.

You slap him, “wake the fuck up!” You slap him again. Shrieking when you realize you’re naked. “You need to wake up now, Dieter. I- we are in bed and - and naked.” You look at him and frown when you see the gold band on his hand. “What the fuck is that?” You reach for his hand, pulling it away from his face and that’s when you see the diamond in your left hand. “What the fuck? Wake up!” You slap him with his own hand.

“Ow! Ow! What the fuck?” Dieter bolts upright and throws his hands up defensively. His eyes are wide and he looks at you like you are crazy. “What the fuck are you doing? I’m sleeping!” He isn’t questioning why you are naked and in his bed. He doesn’t even really care, but dammit, he was enjoying the sleep. And you rudely interrupted it.

“Sleep? How can you sleep when a) we are in bed naked together, and b) WE ARE APPARENTLY FUCKING MARRIED!” You shout, grabbing his hand to show him the new gold band and holding up your own hand. “Oh God. This is - it’s gotta be a joke, right? We aren’t married. We just bought rings.” You try to reason, knowing no matter how drunk you could be, you wouldn’t marry him.

His eyes widen and he looks at your hand and then back at your face for a moment before he busts out laughing. “Oh good job!” He crows. “You had me for a second. And showing me your tits to sell it? Genius.” He chuckles and looks around, spotting a glass of champagne on the nightstand and twists around to grab it, swallowing down the flat champagne. It’s disgusting, but his mouth is dry and he needs something. He pulls the glass down from his lips. “You should stop the bullshit babysitting and act, sweetheart.”

You narrow your eyes at him. "What the fuck are you talking about?" You growl, pissed that he thinks this is some kind of joke. "Do you think this is funny? Bravo, this is - oh God. I think I'm gonna be sick." You scramble to get off of the bed, racing to the bathroom and you kneel down just as you throw up. You gag and cough until you're done before you slump down on the floor, pressing your forehead against the cool porcelain. You inhale deeply and look down, eyes widening at the crusted liquid on your inner thighs. "Oh shit." You hiss, reaching between your legs. You stand up, rinsing your mouth, and stumble back into the bedroom. "We had sex. We had sex." You're in shock.

“What?” Dieter frowns, shaking his head. “You wouldn’t have sex with me. Believe me, I’ve asked.” He had asked you the first day he met you and you had scoffed and acted revolted so he had never asked again. Although you’re standing in front of him naked, and that is something he thought he would never see. “You just probably spilled something on yourself.” He rolls his eyes and flops back onto the bed.

You shake your head, tears in your eyes that he doesn't believe you. "I know what dried cum looks like, you asshole." You spit and search around the room for your phone, knowing you need to find out what happened. When you find your phone, you see the notifications. Opening the first one, your eyes widen. "Oh shit." You read the headline, "Oscar Winning Dieter Bravo Gets Married in Vegas." You scroll until you see the video. "Dieter." You take the phone over to him, hitting play.

A picture is worth a thousand words and apparently a video is worth a million. You and Dieter are obviously intoxicated and grinning happily at each other. In the video, he grabs your ass and hauls you closer while the two of you kiss, tongues tangled and the group that Dieter had brought is cheering and clapping. Pulling away, Dieter looks around. “Now, I’m going to fuck my wife!” He yells out, grabbing your hand and dragging you towards the limo - presumably to take you back to the hotel. “Shit.” Dieter groans, knowing his manager is going to kill him. You probably didn’t sign a prenup.

You cannot believe this. You don't know what happened. You vowed you wouldn't have more than a few drinks, how the hell did you end up blacked out and married to Dieter? "Shit." You echo, wondering what the hell you're gonna do. That video is all over the internet and you know that this press is going to be impossible to tamper. The phone rings and you groan at the name of Dieter's manager flashing on the screen. "Hey Alex. How are you?" You ask, trying to act nonchalant.

"How am I? How am I? You fucking got married to Dieter. You were hired for PR and you orchestrate the biggest fuck up in the history of fuck ups."

“Hey.” Dieter huffs, hearing her screech over the phone. “I wouldn’t say it’s the biggest fuck up.” He throws the covers off his body, obviously not going to be able to go back to sleep and climbs out of the bed, stretching with a groan. Completely unconcerned with his nudity as he stumbles to the bathroom to take a piss.

You watch him walk into the bathroom, jaw dropping, and you realize now why there's an ache between your thighs. "Not a fuck up? You got married! To your PR manager. Jesus Christ Dieter. You need to fix this." Alex says your name and you bite your lip, unsure of how you can fix it.

"I- I don't know - he can't just say it was a joke. There's..." You rack your brain. "There's one way but he's gonna hate it." You look towards the bathroom.

"I don't care. Just fucking fix it. He has a new movie coming out and we don't need the studio on our ass because he has fucked up - because you have fucked up." She hangs up and you stare at the phone, wanting to cry at this entire fucked up situation.

The best thing about Dieter is his ability to go with the flow. Or at least he thinks he does. Often he’s just too strung out, but right now, he’s finding this hilarious. “Just call me Brittany.” He chuckles into the mirror before he groans and reaches for the bottle of antacids that he keeps in his bag, along with his illicit drugs. Getting older sucks. He pops four into his mouth and chews them, reaching down and scratching his balls while he tries to remember if he did anything else last night besides marrying you. That can’t have been the worst thing he did.

You know what the solution is but fuck, you hate it, you really fucking hate it. You grab the shirt he was wearing, throwing it on without care, and you walk towards the bathroom. "We can't get an annulment." You declare. Dieter frowns, turning to look at you, his hand still scratching his balls.

"Why not?" He huffs.

"We have to stay married. If we get an annulment now, it will be recorded and the press will get hold of it and it will be a bigger story than it already is. If we stay married, even on paper, for six months or so, we can get an annulment and no one will even care to look because it will be old news."

“We can just say it was an accident.” Dieter shrugs and smirks. “What happens in Vegas and all that.” You shake your head.

“No Dieter, not what happens in Vegas. That’s the problem!” You shriek and he winces at how loud you get.

“Jesus, there’s the stick again.” He grumbles and sighs, trying to ignore the fact that you are wearing his t-shirt. “I don’t want to be married to you,” he whines. “Your going to tell me I can’t have sex while we’re married.”

“I won’t be married to you in any way other than a piece of paper. We are going to have to suffer each other for the time being. Once we get the annulment, you will give me a reference so I can move on from this shit show. You - you can fuck whoever you want but you won’t be doing it in public. We need people to think we are really married. You need to act like we are actually married, not just a terrible mistake. You need this to work otherwise you will be a laughing stock. With the cocaine possession and DUI, you can’t afford another fuck up.” You warn him, knowing that the last thing you want is to be married to him but you need this job more, you need that reference more than anything.

Dieter huffs, knowing that you aren’t wrong, but it’s all bullshit. “What the fuck, you don’t do your job and I’m the one punished?” He gripes, hating the entire idea. Especially where you said you would be leaving him. He hates when people leave him. “How did Ms. ‘Holier than thou, stick in her ass’ manage to get married to a man she can’t stand in a Vegas wedding chapel?”

“I don’t - I don’t remember anything past going to the bathroom in the strip club. I - I didn’t do my job? How dare you! I tried to prevent something like this but you bought me the drink and it was poured and - oh fuck. Do you think- do you think our drinks were spiked? Oh fuck. That explains it. One of your goddamn gold digging groupies spiked my drink and now I’m - oh God. I knew I shouldn’t have come along. Oh fuck. Dieter - we got married and had sex and I don’t even remember.” You freak out again, hands shaking as the weight of this settles on you.

Dieter frowns, while he loves using drugs and thinks that you could personally benefit from the occasional snort or toke, he doesn’t like the idea of being unknowingly drugged. Again, completely unconcerned with the fact that he’s naked, he walks over to you. “It’s okay.” He hesitates to reach for you, but then he does, pulling you against him and hugging you. Only slightly awkwardly considering you are just wearing his shirt and it is morning. “I’m sure there’s a video of it.”

You are so distraught that you actually wrap your arms around him and allow him to comfort you. Only for a moment until you realize that you’re married to him. “We need a game plan. What’s done is done and you don’t need anymore bad press so we gotta stay married.” You declare as you pull away from his embrace.

Dieter groans, hating that you keep saying that. Because he knows that means that his fun in Vegas will be over if you have your way. “Just lay low.” He shrugs his shoulders and turns around, wanting to look for the pills that he had yesterday. He spots a silk robe and snatches it up, throwing it on but not bothering to close it. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s not - we got married. It is a big deal. It’s a massive deal. I never - I wanted to get married and not get divorced. I wanted to be in love with the man I married. Not - not just - this mess. Oh God. My parents are going to kill me. Everyone expects you to be this reckless but not me. I’m the sensible one. Always have been. I’ve always had to be good.” You admit, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Dieter turns around and stares at you, amazed that you are so…worried about what your parents are going to say. “You’re legal, right?” He demands, squinting at you as if he could tell your age by staring at you. “Worried about your parents? Why? What are they doing for you? Are they supporting you?”

“Of fucking course I’m legal, you idiot.” You huff, “my parents love me and I love them and they are going to be mad when I tell them I accidentally got married in Vegas to a drug addicted actor.” They had told you that moving to L.A was a bad idea and now you’re inclined to agree.

“Who cares what they think?” Dieter scoffs, finally finding the baggie.

“Who cares? I do!” You choke, tears stinging in your eyes again.

“Then just don’t tell them.” Dieter says, like it’s the easiest thing to do.

You shake your head, “I can’t lie to my parents. I can’t do it.” You watch Dieter roll his eyes.

“You can. It’s easy. Just tell them you got married for real and they’ll be disappointed when their favorite son-in-law asks for a divorce in six months time but hey, what can you do? It’s fucking life.” You watch him, knowing your parents are gonna wonder what you say in him compared to your clean cut exes.

Dieter pops three of the pills in his mouth and offers you a couple. “Want some?” He asks and you scoff, shaking your head and looking at him in disgust.

“Shit like that got us into this situation!”

He rolls his eyes and closes the bag, shoving it in the pocket of the ridiculous pink silk robe. It only comes down to his thigh and doesn’t cover anything since he hasn’t closed it. “Just release a statement saying that after spending a night with you in Vegas, I realized that I couldn’t deny my feelings anymore.” He tells you. “Or say that we’ve been secretly dating for months and just decided to go for it.”

You are surprised he’s suddenly agreed to go along with it. Your eyes dip down to his impressive - even flaccid - cock and realize why he’s so obnoxious. “I think the secretly dating one is the way to go but you have been out with most of the men and women in L.A in the past six months. We gotta explain that.” Your mind whirls with the best way to cover this up. Your PR mind taking over to try and distract you from the panic that you also had sex with your boss. One thing at a time.

He shrugs, obviously unconcerned about the details. “We’re poly.” He chuckles, knowing that with as stiff as you are, there is no way that you would ever be in situation like that. “Or that it was just a front. Throw people off.” He grunts and scratches his belly. “I’m hungry, are you hungry? You should order us breakfast.” He switches topics suddenly and looks at you expectantly. “Doesn’t the wife take care of her hubby?” He teases with a smirk.

You huff, walking over to the phone and you grab the room service menu. “Aren’t husbands supposed to stop their stupid fake friends from roofieing their staff?” You retort, glad that you only have one more day of this before you return to L.A and you can get away from him. His assistant can run around doing this shit. You order a healthy breakfast, making him pout, and you smirk, “I’m looking after you baby.”

“Look after me by ordering bacon.” Dieter grumbles and sighs when you just lift a brow. “I’m going to shower.” Despite the rumors, he did shower. He just dresses like he doesn’t give a fuck. Because he doesn’t. Shooting you a grin, he waggles his brows. “Wanna join?”

You wrinkle your nose, “absolutely not. You haven’t even asked if I’m on birth control. We had sex last night. I take the pill, by the way.” You inform him and he wrinkles his nose.

“Too many chemicals. You should just check your basal temperature.”

You shake your head, “how have you not knocked someone up yet?”

Dieter shrugs, not bothering to tell you that he normally does use a condom. Doubting you would believe him. “Guess I’m just lucky like that.” He eyes you again, seeing the streaks of his dried cum on the inside of your thighs. “You wanna take a bath while I shower then? I know you want to clean away the evidence.” His tone is oddly hurt and he purses his lips at you.

You nod, deciding that a bath sounds nice, especially since your body aches. God knows what he did to you last night. You follow him to the bathroom, bending over to turn on the bath and there’s a flash in your mind of Dieter bending you over the bath, his cock buried deep inside of you. You gasp, making Dieter look over at you.

“You okay?” He frowns and you nod.

“I’m fine.” You choke, grabbing the bubble bath.

Rolling his eyes, Dieter leans into the marbled shower to turn on the water. It wouldn’t be so horrible being married to you for a few months if you weren’t such a stick in the mud. You’re hot, he had been grateful that he was battling a headache when you were standing in front of him naked. Or maybe he had too much sex last night. Maybe that was the reason he wasn’t popping a boner at the sight of your tits and bare cunt, because he likes the look of you. “I guess we go home this afternoon?” He asks with a pout. It’s his fucking birthday today and he’s gotten yelled at, scolded and there is zero chance of getting a birthday blowjob from you.

You ponder it for a moment, realizing that you can’t just go home. It would look bad. You need to be seen out and about. “We can’t go home today. It’s best if we go out. We are gonna get swarmed but the public needs to see you and your wife out and happy.I’m sure even you can manage to act like you actually love me. Happy birthday by the way.” You offer him a smile despite being so mad that the thing you tried to prevent had happened.

Your smile throws him for a loop and he just stares at you for a moment. It might be the second time that you’ve smiled at him, a nice smile, since you’ve become his PR person. “Thanks.” He swallows back the urge to make a comment, something dirty that you wouldn’t appreciate and just nods. “Okay. Be seen. We can do that.” He shrugs. “What would be good?”

You test the water before stripping off his shirt to sink into the hot water, a moan escaping your lips at how good it feels on your aching muscles. “I’m thinking we go to dinner. No entourage. Then we go dancing. We gotta appear close and I doubt you’d be spending your birthday apart from your wife. This is just until the news has died down so we can divorce.”

He rolls his eyes at how boring that sounds. No doubt dinner will be talking about how much of a fuck up you think he is and the dancing will be some sedate oldies music where no one there is under one hundred. He shrugs off the robe and steps under the shower spray with a groan. “Sounds great, grandma.” He quips. “Senior specials? Gotta get there before five.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes. “No. I’ll book dinner for nine and then we can go to a club. Not a strip club.” You huff, swaying your hands through the water. His sarcasm has pissed you off since it’s technically his fault that you are in this situation. “I gotta go out and get something nice for a club since everything I brought with me is for a nice dinner and not the club. I guess I gotta dress the part of Mrs. Bravo.” The words make you feel sick but what can you do? You need to keep your job and the way to do that is to create the narrative that you’re in love with the man. As disgusting as he can be, you hope you find something good in him. He’s selfish, indulgent, and completely self obsessed. Traits you would never want to marry, yet here you are.

“Got it, you don’t like strip clubs.” He feels guilty, something that he hates feeling. He doesn’t know why, he didn’t spike your drink, but you are stuck with him because of it. “Take my card when you go shopping.” He tells you, shampoo in his hair. “This is my fault, so you should at least be able to buy what you want until it’s done.”

You want to argue and say you can afford your own things but honestly, you deserve something nice since this wasn't your fault. It was his fake fucking friends. You wash up and wash your face, standing up from the bath just as he steps out of the shower, reaching for the towel. He really is sexy in that Oscar the Grouch kind of way.

Water droplets glisten on his chest as he wraps his towel around his waist, covering himself for the first time since he got out of bed. “You’ll need to stay in this suite too.” Dieter reminds you. “The paps watch the hotel rooms.”

You huff, knowing he’s right, and you wrap the towel around yourself. It’s hard to resist licking up that drop of water going down to his - your mind flashes with an image of you doing just that and you stumble. “Shit.” You hiss and he reaches out to steady you, causing you to pull your arm away. “Do you- do you remember anything from last night?” You ask, curious if he’s having these flashes too.

“I-“ Dieter bites his lip and almost lies to you. “I remember most of last night.” He admits quietly. He’s done so many drugs that some things just kind of stick with him. Especially sex. He knows you will probably be mad at him, since you were drugged too, but he didn’t know that you weren’t just drunk.

Your eyes widen but you’re not surprised. He’s done more drugs than most of the population of California combined. He must have some kind of immunity. “Tell me.” You demand. “Tell me everything.”

“I don’t know.” He swallows harshly and gives a small shrug. “We came back to the hotel, but we started in the limo.” He flashes you a grin. “You demanded I eat you out. Told me that you hadn’t cum on someone’s face in a long time.”

You fluster, unable to believe you said that. “And did you?” You ask breathlessly.

“Of course I fucking did.” He scoffs, “I practically laid on the floor of the limo so I could eat you out. You were bucking against my face like a goddamn bronco.”

Your cheeks burn and you need to know more despite it being mortifying. “Then what?”

He smirks, amused with how flustered you look. “Then we came back here and had sex. In the bathtub, in the bed, in front of the windows.” He chuckles. “You liked that.”

There’s a flash in your mind of him pushing you up against the window, your cheek smashed against it as he rammed into you. “Oh God.” You choke, unable to believe that he fucked you like that. “No wonder I ache. God, thank God I’m on birth control.” You grip the towel tighter around your body, even though it’s ridiculous now he’s seen every inch of your body.

He hums, not mentioning how you had moaned about how good he felt. He’ll save that for himself. “You wanted it again, wanted to ride but you were so tired I stopped you.” You had pouted at him until he promised you could ride him in the morning. Although it seems like that won’t happen. “You can wear some of my clothes until you get your bags to the room.”

You want the floor to open and swallow you when he says that you wanted to ride him. It’s true you haven’t had sex for - who the fuck knows how long it has been. You can’t even remember. You had seen Dieter naked and now you can see why you wanted to ride his cock. Now you’re sober, you couldn’t do it because it’s Dieter Bravo. “Okay. I will wear some of your clothes then go get my things then I’m gonna go shopping and you are gonna stay here and call your manager to apologize.” You tell him, striding out of the bathroom and you walk into the closet to his suitcase, wrinkling your nose at the lack of options that don’t involve holes or stains. “You need new clothes too.” You tell him, holding up his tatty sweats.

Shrugging, he doesn’t understand why you are upset about his clothes. “So buy me some.” He offers. “Hate shopping. Never do it. All that was stuff I acquired.” Half the time it’s stuff that comes from lovers or once expensive clothes that he wears to death when he’s given them after modeling. “But don’t throw them away.” He huffs, a snatching shirt you had picked up away from you. “They’re comfortable.”

“Comfortable can look good too. These are - what the hell do you do in these clothes?” You pick up a tatty shirt and pull it over your head. “What’s your size? I’ll buy you some clothes. We can’t - I won’t be married to a homeless millionaire.” You scoff, “I promise you’ll be comfortable but you need to look good. Your entire image is your income.”

Dieter snorts and rolls his eyes. “I’m still getting worked, aren’t I?” He asks before he drops his towel and starts rooting around for a pair of boxers. “I need to look good on camera. And the makeup and hair people accomplish that.” He honestly doesn’t care about how he looks off set, comfort is his goal. He works long hours when he’s shooting a movie and it’s always uncomfortable. “I honestly don’t- oh! The last movie.” He rattles off sizes. “That’s what the tailor told me when I was fitted.”

“Okay. I’ll get you some new clothes. I just - I know you think I hate you but I want you to be successful. I want you to look good and be loved by your fans. I want you to have everything you’ve ever wanted and that’s my job. To make you look good. For people to love you. I’ll get you some new clothes and some new shoes. Those Tom’s…they aren’t it.”

“Hey….” Dieter pouts and looks down at the Tom’s he had pushed his feet into after sliding on his boxers. “I left my crocs at home.” He argues. “I could have worn them.” He would have too, he doesn’t care. Although he’s surprised by your speech about wanting things for him. Besides last night, you always seem to look at him like gum on the bottom of your shoe.

“God no. I will get my stuff and then we are going shopping. You’re coming with me so we can get you some new stuff.” You tell him, not taking no for an answer. “Let’s get my stuff and then we can go get started.” You shove your feet into your shoes, grateful you didn’t wear heels last night.

“I hate shopping.” He whines, huffing dramatically. “I hate it. It’s boring and people are always assholes.” He hates having to make small talk and all the fucking sales associates thought if they talked to him that he would buy more shit.

You roll your eyes, “tough shit. Your wife wants to go shopping.” You quip and make your way out of the closet to grab your purse, intent on going to your room to change. “Breakfast should be arriving soon. I’ll get my stuff, we can eat, and then we will go out.”

“Bossy.” The fact that his cock twitches doesn’t surprise him, he likes following orders sometimes. “Fine, we’ll go shopping.” He calls out as you walk out of the closet. “But I’m going to complain the whole time!”

****

You hold up the shirt against him, liking the purple against his skin tone. “I like this. What do you think?” You ask, knowing that people are watching you and taking photos but there’s nothing you can do.

“It’s fine.” Dieter huffs, hating the actual shopping more than the color or style of the shirt. He always feels like a rat in a glass cage when he goes shopping. “If you like it, get it. I’ll wear whatever.”

You huff back, hating his lack of enthusiasm and you know it’s because he hates being with you. “We will get it and then we can go, okay hon?” You promise, knowing he’s uncomfortable. “I won’t make you endure this anymore.” You take the shirt over to the cashier and you feel guilty when you see the total. “I’m sorry. Oh God. I didn’t know - I can put stuff back.” You tell him, picking up the clothes.

Dieter scoffs and takes the clothes out of your hand and sets them back down on the counter. “You want it, don’t you?” He asks, reaching into his pocket to pull out his little card case. The black card is quickly snatched up by the sales associate. “Besides, you told me you wanted to go shopping. Shopping means buying things.”

“Yeah but -” Your protest is cut short as the sales associate starts to fold the clothes. All of these are for Dieter. Yours are already on the way to the hotel. “I promise you I’ll pay you back.” You vow and he shakes his head. Dieter spends more than this a week on coke.

“Anything to make you happy dear.” He sasses and you playfully slap him, a little too hard but you don’t want to look like you’re not flirtatious with the sales associate there.

“Happy wife happy life.” You quip.

Dieter rolls his eyes and shoots the clerk a grin. “She’s already figured it out.” He tells them. “I just go along to get along.” He can almost say it with a straight face, but he looks over at you and shoots you a playful wink. “As long as you model the clothes you bought, or let me throw them on the floor, we’re good, baby.” He takes the opportunity to slide his hand down your back and squeeze your ass.

You want to be disgusted but you’ve had more flashes in your mind about how he fucked you and it’s beyond anything you could imagine. So sexy and intense. You find yourself being attracted to him and it’s so dangerous. You’re supposed to hate him, hate how he’s a PR nightmare, one that you’ve now gotten involved in, but you just want him to squeeze your ass again.

His grin gets wider when you don’t gasp and he leans in to kiss your cheek, making sure he drops another kiss right at the corner of your mouth. You’re a little looser than you were last night when the plane landed and he likes that. After your champagne at the strip club, he had ditched Cindy or whatever her fucking name was and it had been all about you. Not that what’s her name minded, she had latched onto some IG model that was there.

You can't stop the shiver that runs through your body and you hope he thinks it's from disgust. "Thank you." You tell the sales associate who promises to take your purchases back to your hotel room. You hold Dieter's hand as you walk back to your hotel. "Gotta let people take photos." You murmur, realizing how many people recognize him and you feel terrible that this is his life every day.

“I know.” He keeps his voice down, but he squeezes your hand. “That's why I hate shopping. The stores turn into a giant fucking fish bowl.” He’s feeling a little jittery, wishing you had let him take something before you left the hotel. But you had said you wanted people to see him happy and sober. Dieter didn’t mention that no one had seen him like that.

You notice how anxious he is and you feel awful for forcing him out like this. You can’t imagine being recognized like this. To be constantly under the public eye. You can understand why he finds solace in the drugs. “It’s okay. Don’t pay attention to them. You’re okay sweetheart. We are going back to the room.” You promise, feeling his hand shake in yours.

He grips your hand a little tighter and looks over at you, almost pathetically grateful that you are here. “Now you know why I’m normally baked.” He quips with a crooked grin.

You feel sorry for him, finally recognizing why he doesn’t dress nicer or go out or be sober. You can’t imagine the stress he must have even going out to the grocery store. You are swift to get him back into the hotel but you enter the elevator and what appears to be several young women all gasp when you enter. “Oh my God it’s Dieter Bravo.” One of them announces and you find yourself defensive when they start to take selfies without even asking.

“Hey. Can you not just take his photo? You could at least ask.” You huff and one of the women points at you.

“You’re his beard.” She declares.

“His what?” You narrow your eyes.

“He’s actually with a man but you are his cover up so female fans think he’s still an option. It’s okay honey, we all know you’re not his type anyway. He likes them looking like supermodels. You’re…average.” She drags her eyes down your body and you feel every insecurity you’ve tried to overcome rush back over you.

“Hey.” Dieter scowls and shakes his head, pushing the outstretched hands with phones away and reaches for you to tug you close to his side. “How about you not talk about my wife like that?” He demands. “Have I been with men? Yep, not a secret.”

Dieter has never cared how he was perceived, he was too self absorbed for that, but he’d be damned if someone was going to insult his fake marriage. “And your logic makes zero fucking sense. I like men, but then I like women who look like supermodels, so she isn’t good enough?” He rolls his eyes and smirks. “Be jealous all you want but don’t be a bitch to her. And you can swing by the hotel room to hear how unattractive I find her later.”

You can’t deny that you are turned on by his display. His defense of you is sexy and you can’t stop the smirk appearing on your lips as the woman is shocked, blinking several times until her friends usher her off of the elevator when it arrives on their floor. “Thank you.” You tell him, “you didn’t have to do that.”

“Husbands protect their wives, right?“ he likes the way that your hand is on his chest, the admiration in your eyes appealing. It’s real, unlike a lot of the shit he gets. “Besides, they are fucking insane. You aren’t average, your fucking gorgeous.”

You fluster, caressing his chest before stepping away. You can’t get involved with him, this is a PR disaster to begin with, let alone getting actual emotions involved. He’s more than what you thought he was. “Thank you. You- you aren’t too bad yourself.” You tell him just as the elevator doors open and you walk to his suite.

He snorts, appreciating the sass and his eyes are glued to your ass as you walk. The maid has come while the two of you are gone and the suite is nice and tidy. “So, I guess we need to talk about what’s going to happen when we go back to L.A.” he doesn’t want to, but he also doesn’t want you lecturing him when the two of you had such a good moment.

You sigh, knowing he’s not gonna like your response. “We need to live together. Just until we divorce. The paps might catch me leaving my home or not being in your home. It will raise questions and we need people to think we are together and stop questioning…like that woman did. We need to - to make this work and when we divorce, you can tell everyone that I’m the evil woman that broke your heart so you can get all the attention and hopefully your next role.”

Dieter shakes his head. “No,” he frowns at the idea of what that would do to your career. “We’ll come up with something better than that.” He insists. “I- there’s three other bedrooms in the house.” He offers, looking over at the door to the bedroom of the suite. “You can have whatever room you want.” He sighs. “I’m a selfish asshole, but I’d never make you stay in the same room or sleep with me.”

You appreciate how he isn’t forcing you into more than what you have agreed. “It will only be for a few months. We need to suffer each other until people get bored of you being married. Tonight, we need to put on a show to convince the public we are married. I’m sorry this happened. I know you didn’t want to get married.” You sigh, having heard him say that several times when his manager would try to set him up on dates.

“Yeah, I know you don’t want to be married to me.” He reminds you with a rueful grin. “I’m not complaining though. I get to say I know what you look like when you cum.” Winking at you playfully. “So I’ve got that goin for me.” He’s thought about it all day today and he knows that it’s not going to happen, but it’s a nice thought.

You roll your eyes playfully and slap his chest. “That’s not gonna happen again. It was…a lapse in judgment. We can’t do that again. It will complicate things even more. That was…it was the drugs.” You lie despite knowing you’d love for Dieter to fuck you again.

“Yeah….the drugs.” Dieter frowns at the reminder and turns around to start striding to the bedroom. “I’m gonna go find my coke.” He calls over his shoulder. “You can do whatever you want. If my manger calls, tell her to fuck off, I’m on my honeymoon.

You chuckle, starting to unpack and hang up the clothes you’d bought him so he can pick out an outfit for later. Everything is stylish yet comfortable. You admire the dresses you’d bought for yourself, excited to wear something beautiful that you could never afford. Dieter lays on the bed, napping between snorting the coke, and he watches some movie while you get ready for your dinner. You take your time to do your hair and makeup, coming back out in a robe. “Bathroom is free. I’m gonna get changed.” You tell Dieter.

His hair is sticking up in every direction, not caring to style it after his shower this morning but he sits up when you walk past. Your makeup is sexy and your hair perfect. You look like an actress getting ready to perform her starring role. Right…this is just an act you are putting on so you can divorce him in six months. Dieter grunts and shuffles off the bed to trudge into the bathroom. If you want this to be a role, he can give you that. He’ll be your perfect co-star.

When you are ready, you walk back into the bedroom to find Dieter walking out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, water droplets still rolling down his skin, but his hair is styled and he has shaved. Fuck, he looks good. “You, uh, you look good like that.” You manage to choke out, hoping he likes your riskier outfit. You know that being with Dieter means you have to have a certain image. The man wouldn’t be married to someone who wears jeans and sneakers all day every day. So you hope he likes the skimpy dress you had bought for tonight.

His mouth drops open slightly, eyes fixed on the skin you are showing and his cock twitches. He loves it and he hates it, because he’s not going to be able to touch you. “You look amazing.” He compliments you breathlessly. “We need to see those cunts in the elevator again.” He chuckles. “Let them see I’m sporting a constant boner.”

“Thank you.” You giggle nervously, eyes dipping down to the slight tent under his towel and there’s a flash behind your eyes of you sucking his cock. Fuck, you can’t let him touch you again. You have to keep this professional. “Did you take viagra again?” You tease, sliding your feet into your heels to distract yourself from pulling him close and kissing him.

Scoffing, Dieter shakes his head. “Hell no.” He doesn’t add that there would be no point since he’s not getting laid on his birthday. “Natural reaction to you, sweetheart.” He turns and walks towards the closet. “Another reason I wear baggy clothes.”

You pause, watching him walk away, and you wonder if he’s just joking with you or if he’s being serious. Has he always found you attractive or does he even find you attractive now? After he is dressed, you swear your pussy drips because damn, he looks so sexy when he’s dressed up and tidy. “You look- you look good.” You choke, hoping your face doesn’t betray you, and you fumble to grab your purse so you can make your dinner reservation on time.

Dieter smirks and holds his arm out for you to take with a wink. “Can’t embarrass my wife when I take her out, can I?” He coos, knowing you hate being reminded that you married him. He can be charm itself when he wants to be and surprisingly, he only took a single Xanax while he was getting ready. The wedding band on his hand is foreign, but it somehow mixes with his other rings. “Ready to put on a show?”

With a sigh, you nod, wrapping your fingers around his arm and let him guide you out of the hotel room to the elevator. He seems…sober. You’re not used to seeing Dieter sober like this and you find you like him more. He’s not as brash or obnoxious. He’s charming and, surprisingly sweet. “I just want this to be successful so you don’t end up another failed Hollywood marriage. You don’t wanna beat Kim K and Britney on an annulment, do you?” You tease as you step onto the elevator and you lower your hand from his arm.

“First place is first place.” He jokes, looking up at the LED monitor that shows the floors rapidly descending. “Besides, I’m sure that whoever you are dating wants to kick my ass and have their girlfriend back.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, feeling twitching and he doesn’t want to touch you more than he needs to. He likes it too much. “Just blame everything on me. They’ll believe I did something stupid.”

You snort, “you think I’m-? First of all, no. I’m single. Have been for…longer than I care to admit. Second, I would never do what I did with you if I was with someone. I was drugged and - God, thank fuck I wasn’t with someone because we - it wasn’t exactly once that night.” You’ve had more flashes, able to piece most of your night together. The things he did to you…they should honestly be illegal, it felt far too good. “Legally, I’m yours. Reality, I’m no one’s.” You answer him, feeling a little insecure that you haven’t dated anyone for a while since you’ve been so busy with work.

“Yeah, I get it.” The doors open and Dieter takes a breath before plastering a happy look on his face. “The only reason you would ever look at me is because you were drugged.” He sighs under his breath, his low tone at odds with his expression. “Can you please stop reminding me how much you hate me. It’s my birthday.”

You take his hand, “I promise you I will make sure you have a good birthday. Come on, let’s go get dinner. I’m starving. Then we can go dancing.” You can’t wait to let loose a little and remember it instead of the crazy night you had before.

The photographers are everywhere, lights flashing and Dieter just smiles and acts proud that he is with you. Lifting up your joined hands and kissing the back of yours. “Dieter! What made you marry your PR agent?”

Dieter laughs and gives you a smoldering smirk. “Well I’ve been in love with her for forever and finally managed to convince her that I was serious. She thought I was acting!”

He is acting but damn, the loving look in his eyes almost convinced you that he loves you. “And we decided to just go for it since I’ve been in love with him too.” You coo, kissing Dieter’s cheek and the cameras flash once more. You gasp when Dieter turns his head to press his lips to yours and you let him kiss you for a moment. “Sorry fellas. We are gonna be late for dinner. Thank you.” You declare, squeezing Dieter’s hand and he guides you through the crowd of paps.

Getting into the car is relatively easy and he allows you to slide into the car before him. The driver pulls away and he looks over at you with a smirk. “Looks like they believed you.” His lips burn where he had kissed you and he turns to look out the window so he doesn’t try to do it again. “They might fall in love with you.”

You snort, looking out of the window. “If you don’t like me, I doubt they will love me. I’m just a five minute wonder. When the Kardashians or the Hadid sisters do something, I’ll be old news and that’s when we can divorce under the radar. We just gotta make them think we are in love for the time being. I know that will be hard but you’re an Oscar winning actor so you should be able to manage it.” You wonder if you’ll be able to manage it. He’s more than what you thought he was, already changing your opinion after twenty four hours in his company. Maybe it’s a residue high from the drug. You don’t know.

Dieter sighs and doesn’t comment. It won’t do any good. You wouldn’t believe him if he told you that while he hadn’t been in love with you, he had found you very attractive and he liked the sass and the fact that you didn’t put up with his shit. He was contrary by nature and you were just so good. And last night….fuck, you showed him how wild you could be.

When you arrive at the restaurant, there’s another throng of paps and fans with their cameras but the restaurant staff usher you inside to a private booth and you exhale in relief when you lean back against the cool leather. “I don’t know how you handle that all the time.” You say to Dieter when he sits beside you.

“Drugs.” Dieter jokes, giving a small shrug as he reaches for the water glass. It’s not wine, but he will order a bottle quick enough and he’s oddly thirsty. “Some days it’s okay, especially when I meet someone who is passionate about movies, but it can be a lot when it’s the paps.”

“I can only imagine. It’s…intense. I’m sorry you have to deal with that. I sit at a desk and don’t really see that side of it. The reality of it. For so long, I’ve just done damage control on different situations you’ve gotten into like when you hit the pap and I never - I always thought you overreacted but now I know.”

He stares at you a moment, amazed that you had just said that. When he had hit the pap, you had raked his ass over the coals. “Thanks.” He ducks his head slightly to study the menu. “Hopefully they don’t bother you too badly.”

"I can handle them. They just need to be bored by me and they will move on. If we have an orgy in the middle of the strip, then we might be on their radar." You joke, browsing the menu. "Shit. This place is pricey. I didn't -" You are cut when Dieter rolls his eyes and tuts.

"Hellooo?? My wife gets whatever she wants. Plus, I make way more money than I need. Probably why I buy so much coke." He murmurs to himself and you fluster at the way he easily calls you his wife even though no one is around to hear.

The waiter comes over and Dieter orders the wine and you soon order your meal. "I don't - I haven't really been anywhere this nice before. My parents always preferred to cook homemade meals and special occasions were few and far between and my exes, none really took me anywhere super nice."

He snorts and rolls his eyes. “Wow, sounds like you dated some winners.” He doesn’t mind spending money, the people he hangs out with would verify that. But someone like you needs to be appreciated. “Well, while you are married to me, you can do whatever you want and eat everywhere you’ve wanted to try.” He lifts his brows. “A Hollywood wife must be seen after all.”

You chuckle, "I guess so." You watch the wine sommelier pour the wine for Dieter to taste and he nods, letting the man pour you a glass before filling Dieter's up. "To being fake married." You toast softly with a smirk on your lips as you clink your glass against his. "To being fake married." He responds and you take a sip of the wine, moaning in appreciation of the fruity full bodied red wine.

Your moan punches him in the gut, making it twist as he members the way you sounded last night. You still haven’t realized that he knew that the two of you got married. He wonders what you will say when you rationalize it out.

You eagerly dig into your appetizer. So hungry after so much stress. You see Dieter fidget and flex his fingers as he plays with his food. “Is everything okay?” You ask, reaching for his left hand. Another flash plays through your mind of when he slid the diamond ring onto your finger. You gasp and squeeze his hand. “Do you - if you remember last night us having - then you must remember us getting married?”

Shit…..Dieter stares down at his plate and swallows, suddenly not hungry. You are going to be pissed at him. “I do.” He admits, not looking up. He doesn’t want to see the anger on your face. Plus it hurts less when he gets slapped if he doesn’t see it coming.

You inhale sharply, now knowing that he married you and remembers it. He knew what he was doing. You feel betrayed. "Why?" You whisper, unable to muster anything else.

Dieter sighs and leans back in his chair, wishing that he had done some Coke before dinner. “It was your idea.” He reveals. “You climbed into my lap and told me that you had always wanted to slap me and then kiss me.” He huffs out a small chuckle. “So I told you to do it.” He picks up his wine glass and takes a long gulp. “It went from there, but you asked me to marry you.”

Your eyes widen. “I- I asked you- oh God.” You lean back in your seat, absorbing the news that you asked him to marry you. “Why - did I give a reason why? I need you to tell me everything.” You order, leaning closer to him.

He gives a small shrug. “I thought you had just decided to take the stick out of your ass.” He defends himself. “Plus I wasn’t close to sober. But we made out in the club, damn near had sex in that booth. Then we went cruising down the strip and you saw the chapel and demanded we pull over.” He chuckles. “You claimed you loved those cliche movies about eloping and something about it could be a weird version of married at first sight?” He shrugs. “I didn’t know what you were talking about, but you were happy.”

You stare at him, tears stinging in your eyes and you swallow harshly. The tang of the wine on your lips when you lick them. “Wow. I- wow. It was me.” You can’t believe it was you that suggested getting married but you supposed it makes sense now. You sigh and reach for his hand. “I’m so sorry. It’s my fault we are in this fucked up mess and I - oh God. I’m so sorry sweetheart. I shouldn’t - my parents got divorced when I was a teenager so I guess I’ve always wanted to get married and do it right but now I’ve completely fucked that up.”

He reaches out and covers your hand with his other one. “It’s okay.” He knows how you feel now, in the light of day. He should have known you weren’t yourself, but he convinced himself that you had just given into bottled up feelings. It’s not true though, you are horrified at being married to him. So you’ll get it annulled or get a divorce or whatever. “We’ll have you single again in no time.” He chuckles and sends you a wink. “Smart girl, we got married without a prenup too.”

Your eyes widen, “oh God. I didn’t - I don’t want your money Dieter. You can keep it. I don’t - I don’t want you to think I did this because of - because of the money. I didn’t.” You promise, “I don’t - oh God. What a mess…and it’s all my fault. I’m so sorry.” You shake your head, knowing that your job is to protect his image and you’re the one who got you in this position.

He chuckles, enjoying the abject horror on your face. “Nah. I’ll just sign up for some really shitty movie, Cliff Beasts 75 or some shit, and tell the press at the junket that it’s so I could pay my alimony.” He teases, squeezing your hand so you don’t think he’s serious.

You roll your eyes at him, half playful, and you look down at your joined hands. For some reason, it feels far too right to hold his hand, even with the ghastly amount of rings he has on each hand. “So you wanted to marry me…even though I’ve done nothing but be rude to you?” You ask, frowning again.

“What can I say?” He gives a small shrug. “I’m a masochist.” His joke is meant to make you roll your eyes and scoff, perhaps say something sarcastic. Anything to keep you from delving into why he thought marrying you was a good idea. He was high, sure, but he never was so high that he married someone else before. His insecurities and loneliness came out last night and in typical Dieter fashion, he was selfish.

You stare at him, unsure of what to think, but you can see something in his eyes. You just can’t put your finger on it. “I- I’m sorry I’ve been such a bitch to you. I should’ve been more professional and I understand why you…self medicate. It must be so overwhelming.” You squeeze his hand just as the waiter comes over with your food.

He doesn’t respond with a pithy reply, instead he just leans back and lets the server set down the food. He speaks when the extra ears have left. “I get it, I’m annoying.” He gives a small shrug. “Byproduct of being lonely, I guess.”

You feel sorry for him which surprises you. You can’t imagine how lonely it must be to not know who your true friends are. To know that everyone wants something from you. “I- I really am sorry Dieter. I don’t think you’re as annoying now that I understand why. You’re just…eccentric.” You tell him and start to eat, wondering what you can do to make this man happy. How bizarre, to have gone from loathing him to…something else in less than twenty four hours.

“Don’t feel sorry for me.” He’s slightly prickly after exposing something so raw. “My life is great. Drugs, sex, whatever I want.” He huffs like it’s ridiculous to imagine being unhappy. “I live in Sherman Oaks.”

You snort, “money doesn’t buy happiness. It’s clear that you are lonely and you buy your friends and your lovers. It’s…I want more for you Dieter. You deserve to be truly happy. I know we have fucked up with this marriage but you deserve to be with someone who loves you.

Dieter sighs, knowing that will never happen. He either fucks up or they do. Or they never loved him at all. “Can we talk about something less depressing?” He whines before he changes the subject. “Like you showing me your tits at the strip club?”

Your eyes widen, “I did what?!?” Your mouth drops and you lower your knife and fork.

“Yeah. You flashed your tits while we were in the club. Said you could get up on that stage and make me hard.” Dieter smirks at how mortified you are.

“Oh my God. I didn’t.” You cringe, knowing you must’ve embarrassed yourself while high thanks to your constant need to suppress your wilder side.

“You did.” He chuckles and leans in. “But you were right, I did get hard.” He smirks and winks at you. “Got really hard. You liked it. Really liked it.” You had loved how hard he was and that he was a multiple rounds kind of guy.

You fluster, another flash in your mind of you taking his cock into your mouth in the limo, and your cheeks burn. “Oh shit. I did. God, I- I didn’t know - I’ve never behaved that way. I just - oh no. I’m so sorry.” You wince, not even wanting to know what he thought of you. “I, uh, I never behave that way. At least not outside of my kind.”

Dieter grins, eyes alight with dirty delight. “Yeah?” He gives a low chuckle. “You have a lot of dirty thoughts swimming around in that pretty little head if yours?” He nods. “Yeah, you do. You probably read all those smutty romances and watch porn thinking about what you would do if you just let yourself.”

You fluster, thinking of all of the books you’ve read and the porn you’ve watched. “A lot of dirty thoughts.” You murmur, looking into those beautiful dark eyes of his that are just one of the reasons he’s such a popular actor. You lick your lips and shift a little closer to him. “We shouldn’t - we should keep this professional.” Your eyes dip down to his lips and you remember how good it felt to kiss him. You want that again.

“Maybe.” Dieter gives a careless shrug, as if it’s of no consequence. “Although….we already have. And you are my wife.” He reminds you with a grin. “So technically speaking, fucking each other’s brains out would be keeping it professional.” He can tell you are curious. If it’s because you don’t remember a lot of last night or if you want to see what Dieter Bravo is like in bed, he doesn’t know. “You know what they say. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.”

You want to kiss him, fuck, you really do, but crossing that line isn’t something you can let go. You pull back, swallowing down the lump in your throat. “I- I don’t think it would, considering everyone takes our photo.” You gesture to the people across the room who are trying to covertly take your photo. You go back to your food, knowing it’s for the best. “We can go dancing after this, show off those infamous moves.” You nudge him playfully, trying to lighten the mood.

He wants to pout, but he knows that he’s not going to push. He never pushes, it goes against his code. “Okay.” He lown meal and forks up a bite. You don’t want to sleep with him again. Fitting for the woman who hadn’t even wanted to come here. He can see you retreat back into your professional armor and he sighs softly. “We’ll dance for like an hour, then I think I’m just going to go to bed early.” He decides. “There’s got to be another baggie in the room somewhere.”

You sigh, wishing he wouldn’t escape in drugs. Maybe some therapy would help him process better. You push that thought aside and know that you’re not his actual wife so that would be overstepping. The rest of dinner is spent in silence and you groan when you finish dessert. “I don’t think I’ve had a meal that good…ever.” You dread to think what the bill is going to say.

Groaning in agreement, Dieter doesn’t even look at the bill when it comes, pulling his wallet out of his jacket pocket and handing the card to the waiter as he reaches for his wine glass to drain the last sip. “Have you decided what club?”

“Not a strip club.” You snort and he pouts, making you playfully slap his arm. “Not a strip club. There’s this club at Venetian that’s supposed to be nice. Let’s go there and we can dance then go back to the room because these shoes aren’t gonna hold up an entire night.” You stretch your legs, accidentally brushing against his. “Thank you for dinner.” You tell him when the waiter sets the bill down.

“You’re welcome.” For all his douchebaggery, Dieter tips. He had spent too many years waiting tables to survive while he was working towards breaking into the business. He signs a large tip and scrawls his signature before he takes his card and closes the leather booklet. “Ready?” He asks, standing up and moving over to your chair.

You take his hand, happy to keep your hands joined as he guides you out of the restaurant and through the hotel to your awaiting limo. Dieter tells the driver the name of the club and he leans back in the leather seat as the driver makes his way across the strip. “Can I ask you a question?” You ask and he chuckles, “you just did.” You roll your eyes and look at him and he nods. “Why do you do the drugs? What about it makes you - makes you happy?”

That hadn’t been the question he was expecting. He frowns slightly and thinks about how to answer. “It’s freeing. Fun.” He gives a small shrug. “I like the way I think, the way I feel when I’m high. It can be creative.” He snorts. “Or it can make me not give a fuck about what’s going on.”

You nod in understanding, “I can get that. Just - just being you without any kind of mental barrier. I just - last night I was free. I have never acted like that before.” You admit, “but don’t you ever get tired of it? Don’t you ever want something real?”

Dieter scoffs. “Real checked out when my first multi million dollar role was announced.” He tells you. “Real left when I slept with someone only to have them sell pictures to The Sun.” He gives a shrug that’s meant to hide the hurt and betrayal that he had felt when he realized that he was just some kind of commodity to a lot of people. “Maybe one day, when I’m old and the roles stop coming in, or they aren’t blockbusters or Oscar winners.”

You feel sad for him, you can see the pain in his eyes. He feels used and not truly loved, he has been wrung out for every penny people can get out of him. “I’m sorry you’ve been treated like that. You deserve to be treated like any other human. Just because you’re famous doesn’t mean you don’t get to be treated with respect. I- I can understand now why you act that way you do. It’s an escape and a facade. If you don’t let them see the real you, you won’t get hurt.”

“Knew you were a smart cookie.” It’s not exactly a compliment, because it means he’s let you see beyond his facade. He looks out of the car window and chuckles to himself. “Want to flash the strip?” He asks, making a crude joke to lighten the mood.

You chuckle, rolling your eyes at him. “No I don’t. I’m not even drunk.” You tell him, “or drugged. God, I really did flash my tits everywhere. Thank God no one got a photo of it.” You cringe at the thought.

“Oh there are photos.” Dieter smirks, holding up his phone. “But only I get to see pics of my wifey like that.” He had every intention of deleting them, but hadn’t remembered to do it yet. “You wanna see?”

Your eyes widen, “you took photos? Oh my God. You asshole.” You slap his arm making him give a dramatic “ow” then you demand he shows you. He grins and unlocks his phone, pulling up the photos he had taken. “Oh God. I- I look - I look hot.” You settle on that word. You look happy and carefree and hot. Words you never thought you’d put together.

“Yeah you do.” You do look hot, doing exactly what you wanted and not apologizing for it. The picture where you were pushing your tits together and winking at him is his favorite. Inviting him to come suck on him. He had waited until the limo to do that. “But no one else got photos. Apparently there’s not supposed to be photos taken in the club.”

You stare at the photos, not even recognizing yourself. You look so happy. You don’t remember the last time you were that happy. Work took over and then your relationships were lackluster and you haven’t had much time for yourself. “That’s good. You, uh, can you send those to me? I really like them.” You admit quietly, loving that side of yourself that you’ve never seen.

He lifts his brow in surprise, not expecting you to want to keep any evidence of you letting loose. “Sure.” He nods and opens his messages to start sending you the photos. If you want them, you will have them. “I’ll delete them off my phone after I send them to you, but I don’t believe in that sharing photos shit. That’s disgusting.”

You have a new appreciation for him, knowing that he is many things but he isn’t a liar. “Thank you.” You kiss his cheek, wanting to thank him for being a good man. Your phone buzzes and you ignore it since the limo pulls up outside of the Venetian. “More paps but after that, it’s time to celebrate your birthday. First round is on me.” You promise, grabbing your purse as the driver opens the door.

Dieter follows you out of the limo, wrapping his arm around your waist and starting to weave through the paps. If he didn’t know better, he would think someone tipped them off. Smiling and grinning like he’s happy they are all witnessing his arrival, he tugs you closer. “Talk later! Gotta dance!”

You sigh, knowing you will need to investigate who tipped the paps off. You imagine it’s his assistant who arranged the reservations. “I’m sorry. I don’t - I’ll gotta find out who tipped them off.” You tell him as you take his hand, walking through the casino and you sigh in relief when you see the entrance to the club after several fans took photos of you and Dieter. “It’s exhausting. Having to be ‘on’ all the time.” You can’t imagine how he handles it. You enter the club, skipping the line, and are escorted to the VIP section.

Ordering a drink is quick, the server specifically assigned to your section for preferential treatment. “What do you want, sweetheart?” He asks, leaning in and speaking into your ear over the loud music. His arm is wrapped around your shoulders and the entire world would believe that you two are are enamored with each other.

You force yourself to not turn your head, your lips would be so close, and you know that kissing him, or touching him, would complicate things even more. He looks so good though, the lights flashing over his face, and you want to just protect him from the fucked up world he is in and keep him safe and...loved. Shit, you gotta push that thought out of your mind. You mumble that you want a vodka soda and Dieter orders a whole bottle. "Gonna be a good night." He promises, his lips against your ear and it makes you shiver.

The music plays as the two of you wait for your drinks. He’s aware that there are eyes on the two of you, taking advantage of it by stroking your arm and leaning close, nuzzling your cheek with his nose. “You look delicious in that dress.” He breathes into your ear. “Can’t wait to dance with you.”

You try to smother your whimper as your entire body lights up from his simple touch. Biting your lip, you turn your head to look at him and you swear he looks angelic with the lights flashing over his handsome face. He’s no angel though, he’s the devil in disguise. “Let’s dance.” You tell him, not bothered about the drinks.

Dieter smirks as you practically drag him out onto the dance floor. He doesn’t normally dance as much as wildly gyrate, but he can grind on someone. It helps that even though he’s behind you, you are leading the dance, something that is wildly sexy to him as he lets you take control.

You grab his hands, placing them on your hips as you grind back against him. You may be stiff and starchy most days to be professional but you love to dance. You don’t care who’s watching, deciding to finally let loose and you grind your ass against Dieter. Dipping low and pushing up against him as you grab his hands to help you stand upright. You put on a show that he clearly likes if his hardening cock pressing against your ass is anything to go by.

He groans, grinding against you and gripping your hips harshly. “God.” He hisses in your ear, loving how uninhibited you are being. “You are so dirty under that prissy veneer, aren’t you?” He teases. “You would do anything right now, wouldn’t you?”

You gasp when he bites down on your earlobe. “God yes. I would. I just - I haven’t had anyone to bring this side out of me.” His words send a thrill through you and you grind back even harder, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck, arching your back.

Chuckling against your ear, he slides his hand down your hip, fingers teasing the edge of your dress and tracing the hem. “Let me.” He demands, waiting to see if you push his hand away. When you don’t, his cock throbs against your ass as he dips his fingers under the dress and starts caressing the skin of your thighs as he works his way higher to the beat of the music.

You don’t push his hand away, leaning back against him, and you whimper when his fingers press against your clit through your panties. “Fuck Dieter.” You moan into his neck when you turn your head. You know you shouldn’t be doing this, this is going to complicate things and you haven’t got the excuse that you’re drugged. You’ve had a couple of glasses of wine. You are practically sober and his hand is under your dress.

“You said that so many times last night.” He coos in your ear, rubbing your clit over your panties. “Fuck Dieter, harder.” He moans. “Fuck Dieter, your in my guts.” He slips a finger under the fabric and pushes it inside you, his thumb still outside your panties and pressed against your clit.

You don’t have the capacity to be embarrassed at what you had said to him last night. The flashes you had gotten told you that you loved what he had done to you. His thick digit inside of you has you gasping his name and his chuckle makes you gush, getting more aroused while you continue grinding on him. “God, what else did I say?” You ask with a raspy moan.

“That my cock was the best you ever had and you wanted to ride it.” He pumps his finger in and out of your tight, hot cunt - loving how you’re gripping it. It’s dirty, doing it right here on the dance floor and he loves it. “Whined when I told you to go to sleep. I think you would have slept with me inside you.”

His words cause a whine to rise up your throat, making you grab onto his hair as he works his digit in and out of you. "Oh God. That - that means you must've done a good job making me cum. Was I - was I good for you? Did you enjoy it?" You ask, knowing he's had more sex than you've had hot dinners so it's a valid question and you hope he doesn't lie to appease you.

“Fuck yes it was good.” He groans in your ear and slides another finger under the panties to push in with the other on the next twist of his wrist. “Fucking hot and tight. Like a perfect glove.” He twitches against your ass.

His second finger stretches you just right and you start to lean more against him as he works you towards an orgasm. "Oh fuck baby. You're gonna make me - it's so good. Dieter. I-" You turn your head to bite down on his neck. The music is loud but you don't need to alert people around you that Dieter just made you cum. His fingers work you through it and you slump back against him, feeling almost dizzy from the pleasure. "So good." You murmur, eyes closed as you breathe him in.

Dieter whines as he pulls his soaked fingers out of your cunt, holding them up so the shiny cum can catch the light in front of your eyes before he slides them into his mouth with a grin. You’re leaning against him and not moving to the music any more. “Time for that drink, right?” He murmurs in your ear, kissing the shell again.

You nod dumbly, feeling his cock hard and twitching against your ass as he guides you back to the VIP section. When you are under the stroud of exclusive cover, you reach for his pants. "Want to make you feel good too." All care of your PR job goes flying out the window as you scramble to pull his hard cock out of his pants. The section you're in is private and the curtains hide you from near everyone in the club. When his cock is finally free, you groan at the sight of it. It's beautiful, thick and veiny and you immediately lean down to take him into your mouth, not caring about anything other than making him cum.

“Shit.” Dieter hisses at the surprise move, throwing his head back as his hand comes to rest on the back of yours. He hadn’t expected this. Maybe some teasing, but he knows you aren’t drunk or have taken anything. This is you, taking him into your mouth and moaning around him like he’s a fucking lollipop you’ve craved. “Fuck, baby. You are so dirty, I love it.” His other hand slides around your side to squeeze your tit through your dress. “My wifey’s a little exhibitionist, sucking my cock in the club.”

This is so wrong. You shouldn’t be doing this but fuck, you can’t stop yourself. His moans and the way he touches you spurs you on and you bob on his cock, using your hand to work the length that you can’t take down your throat.

Letting out a needy whine, Dieter’s eyes close and he shuffles his hips up slightly. Wanting you to try to take him deeper. “Oh fuck baby, that mouth, oh fuck it’s so good.” He rambles, practically shuddering under the hot pressure of your palette against the head. “So good, you- fuck baby.” He forces his eyes open again to watch you suck his cock, amazed that this is happening and everyone is sober.

You’re sober but you’re also drunk on Dieter. Taking him deeper until you are choking around his thick cock. You breathe through your nose, working him deeper until you aren’t gagging. Hollowing your cheeks, you press your tongue against the underside of his cock. Your eyes water but you force yourself to open them to meet his gaze, wanting to look at him.

Dieter is such a fucking needy little shit that the moment that you lock eyes with him, his entire body gives in. Gasping out your name, his cock starts to throb, face twisting pleasure while he is pumping ropes of salty cum into your mouth.

You struggle to keep up, swallowing each spurt of cum, but a drop escapes to drip down your chin and lands on his pants. Working him through his orgasm, you pull off of his cock and kiss the tip, loving the way he twitches, then you lean down to lap up the drop that is threatening to stain his pants.

“Jesus Christ.” When you are sitting up, Dieter lunges forward to press his lips to yours. Sliding his tongue into your mouth, not caring about the taste of his own cum in your mouth, just needing to kiss you. Dragging you closer while he groans and deepens the kiss for a long minute before he pulls away and sighs as he nudges his nose against yours. “Shit…I wasn’t expecting a birthday blowjob.” He giggles, practically euphoric.

“Neither was I.” You admit with a giggle, kissing his jaw. “I just - I can’t seem to stop touching you now. I want to give you birthday sex.” You murmur, wanting to recreate the night before and relive the flashes you get here and there. “Plus it will be good if people believe we are actually married, like not just on paper. Maybe a noise complaint will help our case.” You tease, caressing his chest through the open buttons of his shirt.

He smirks and nods eagerly. “I can make a noise complaint happen.” He jokes, before he leans in and kisses you again. “You want to have sex with me?” He asks, lifting his brows as he looks at you softly. He hadn’t expected this, this change of heart towards him, but he’s not turning down getting you into bed again.

You nod eagerly. Ready for him to make you cum again. “Yes. Want you to fuck me until I scream your name. Until we get a noise complaint and everyone knows that dieter Bravo fucks his wife hard.”

He knows you don’t mean that beyond the fact that you accidentally married him. Fully aware that in a few months time, you are going to divorce him. But right now, the fact that he has a wife and that wife wants him to make a claim on her has him standing up. Shoving his cock back into his pants and zipping up, he grabs your hand. “We’re leaving.” He growls.

Your cunt clenches at his growl and you let him practically drag you out of the VIP section after he slams some cash down on the table to cover the drinks you never had. When you are out of the club, he ignores anyone that talks to him as he practically drags you to the car, pushing you inside. As soon as the door closes, you are straddling his lap and pressing your lips to his.

He’s greedy right now, pushing your dress up to your hips and nearly ripping your top as he pulls your tits. Dragging his lips away from yours so he can kiss down your chest. He’s not hard yet, that will take at least until you get back to the hotel, but he can suck on your tits and see what you like while his body recovers enough to fuck you.

When he takes your nipple into his mouth, you arch your back and cry out, tangling your fingers in this hair. “Oh fuck baby. That feels good.” You gasp when he bites down on the sensitive flesh.

Dieter loves tits. Big ones, small ones, he just loves them. He might have a bit of a lactation kink, but he’s never been with someone that had milk, but he always imagines it as he’s sucking on them. He flicks his tongue over the hard flesh and suckles eagerly, making it even stiffer before he scrapes his teeth over it to make you shudder. Pushing your tits together and licking between them happily before he buries his face in the cavity and groans happily.

You moan, loving how fucking eager he is, and he switches rapidly between nipples, sucking each one and making you shift to grind down onto him, your panties soaked. You know this is a bad idea but you can’t stop yourself. He’s sexy, in a garbage driver kind of way - and you find yourself needing him more than you need air. “Oh fuck. Yes. Just like that.” You hiss when he nibbles the flesh.

He grunts, keeping his mouth busy. His hands sliding down and gripping your ass as you roll your hips. Reaching around with one hand to push your panties to the side so your clit can grind down against the seam of his pants. He doesn’t care if you soak them and ruin them, he wants to see you cum again.

“Fuck.” You cry, grinding down until your clit rubs against the zipper of his pants, catching just right to make you shudder. His mouth continues to nip and suck on your tits and you swear you’ve never been this wet. You must have soaked his pants by now and you haven’t even cum yet. “Fuck Diet. You’re gonna - I’m gonna cum.” You warn him just before you fall over the edge, crying out as you shake above him.

Groaning into your tits, Dieter feels you fall apart. Your body tense and trembling gives him a rush of endorphins and his flaccid cock is starting to respond, hardening slowly as you grind against him. He holds you close and continues to lave affection on your tits until you slump against him, panting breathlessly. “I want to die like this.” Dieter’s comment is muffled from between your tits. “Just like this.”

You chuckle breathlessly, caressing his neck and running your fingers through his hair as you try to catch your breath, still feeling the haze of your orgasm washing over you. “If you die right now, I’ll get all your money.” You tease, knowing he knows that you don’t care about that stuff.

“Worth it.” He huffs against your damp skin. “Just bury me with a mold of your tits in my face.” He jokes, pulling away from you to kiss up your chest and chin before placing a surprisingly gentle kiss on your lips.

You sigh against his mouth, a little shocked by the tender kiss, and you respond, gently kissing him back. Your hands slide down to caress his chest and you nibble on his bottom lip, in no rush to pull away. This is dangerous, being this intimate and comfortable, but you know things will change when you get back to L.A and have to face reality.

The driver pulls to a stop outside the hotel and Dieter groans slightly, pulling your panties back into place and tugging your skirt down as he kisses you one last time. “Time to get out of the car and pretend we weren’t making out back here.” He smirks and looks down at his wet crotch. “Although that’s gonna be hard.”

You fluster, biting your lip as you try to compose yourself. These damn hotels make you walk through the casino to get to your room. You take Dieter's hand once he exits the limo and the cameras flash, making you lean into his side. "They definitely know what we were doing." You whisper, giggling when people stare at his crotch. "Helps confirm we are really married."

“I don’t think that we will have them convinced just yet.” Dieter winks at you before he hauls you close and kisses you again. It’s wet and dirty, the kind of kiss that leads to sex and he’s very happy when he hears you moan into his mouth, clinging to him.

You whimper into his mouth, nails digging into his shirt-clad shoulders as he slides his tongue against yours. Cameras flash and you pull back, knowing that you need to get him to the hotel room now before you fuck him here and in front of fans with cameras and the paps. "Need to - to get to the room." You manage to pant, grabbing his hand to practically drag him to the elevator.

Chuckling, he eagerly follows you into the car, somehow managing to be in there with only one other couple. “We’re gonna have to behave.” He warns you playfully, smacking your ass before he turns to the other couple. “Sorry, it’s our honeymoon and she’s irresistible.” He shares a smirk with the older man, and then grins back at you.

You slap his chest, shaking your head despite the grin on your face. Shit. He’s not too bad when he’s not playing up being an obnoxious Oscar winning movie star. The other couple - older - just chuckle. “I remember when she used to be like that for me.” He winks at his wife.

“What do you mean used to be? Still am.” The wife smirks and the husband’s eyebrows raise.

“Have a good night.” The husband says when the elevator arrives on their floor.

“You too.” You respond and the wife smirks over her shoulder, “oh we will.”

“Damn, he’s gonna get lucky too.” Dieter huffs in amusement. The question of if you would still be that hot for him when you're their age is on the tip of his tongue, but then he remembers that he’ll be alone again by his next birthday. He pushes that out of his mind, grabbing you and flattening you against the wall of the car, his tongue desperate to chase away the thought and have as much of you as he can while you are still here.

You moan as his tongue slides against yours again. It’s like you can’t get enough of him. Never mind having a drug in your system last night, you’re certain that half of that was Dieter. Your entire body is on fire and you struggle to find any reason as to why you hated him. The bell dings and you slide out from the wall and your husband.

“Does the birthday boy want some birthday sex? You want me to ride you like I promised?” You coo, smirking as you start to walk down the hall to his suite. When he starts to follow you, nodding his head eagerly, you grin and grab the key from your purse. “Better catch me then.” You rush down the hall, knowing it’s gonna be hard for him to run with his cock hard and throbbing already.

“Fuck.” Dieter groans, watching you take off and he starts to shuffle after you. “Wait up!” He whines, actually enjoying himself even though he wishes he was still crushed against you. It’s been a long time since sex was just playful and he is loving how easy it seems to be with you. You aren’t the uptight woman you pretend to be. “Fuck baby, watch that ass.” He huffs.

You giggle, trying to open the door, when he grabs you. You struggle to unlock the door with his hands everywhere and your hand shakes as you press the key against it, finally managing to open the door. “You’re just too slow, old man.” You tease, kicking off your shoes as you step into the suite and spin out of his arms to set your purse down.

“Fuck you I’m too old.” He huffs, slapping your ass harshly and then grabbing the hem of your dress to start dragging it up. “I’ll show you old.” He drags you back against him, grinding his cock against your ass. “Want you to ride me, I’ve been thinking about it all fucking day.” He admits with a grin, biting down on your shoulder.

You grind back against him, head lolling as he kisses up your neck, and you gather your senses enough to tell him to take his pants off. "Get undressed. Now." You order, desperate to sink down onto his cock. "Then sit back against the headboard."

“Yes ma’am.” Dieters draws out, happy to follow that order. Disrobing is careless, tossing clothes on the floor without any care until he is standing completely naked, save for his black socks. “Keep my feet warm.” He teases with a wink before he crawls up on the bed and leans back against the headboard. Wanting to see what you will say about the ridiculous look of just being in socks.

You chuckle at the sight of him in his socks, his cock resting on his lower stomach, and you push your panties down, kneeling on the bed and shuffling forward until you are hovering over his cock. “Like an old man keeping his socks on.” You tease, reaching between you to grip his cock and position him at your entrance. You slowly sink down onto him, mouth falling open at how he stretches you.

“Does that make you the young gold digger?” He demands, leaning forward to kiss you and drag you to his chest. Wanting to feel your bare breasts against his skin while you get used to him. He knows you are probably sore from yesterday since you had told him it had been awhile since you’ve had sex. “Gonna fuck your old husband to death?”

You chuckle, “yeah. Especially since we have no prenup. You want me to - to fuck you to death?” You joke, moaning when you manage to rock your hips slowly until he’s fully inside of you. “Oh God. How don’t I remember how this feels?” You say to yourself.

“Blacked out from bliss.” Dieter huffs, reaching up and pinching your nipple. “Hearts gonna give out when you squeeze me with that tight pussy of yours.” He groans when you do just that, cock twitching inside you. “Fuck me baby.” He whines, wanting to feel you move.

You grab onto his shoulder for leverage, lifting yourself up until only the head of his cock is notched inside of you. You meet those entrancing dark brown eyes of his and sink down. Starting a little slow but building up the pace until you are rocking your hips on his cock.

“Fuck.” He pants out the word, loving how you feel around him, riding him. He caresses your hip and looks down to watch you take him. “Look at that. That pussy must be so full.”

"It is. Oh fuck. It is. I - never been this full." You admit shifting to lean back. Your hands braced on his knees as you grind forward, allowing him an even better view to see your pussy. "Fuck. This is just - so good."

Dieter is entranced, loving how your lips are stretching around him. It makes him throb and he reaches down and rubs your clit. Loving your gasp and the way your body shudders. “You look good on my cock.” He groans.

“Feels so good.” Your thighs start to shake and you nearly collapse backwards as you try to continue grinding down on his cock. It becomes too much, his fingers on your clit and the head of his cock hitting just right on every grind down, makes you fall apart. Your cry of pleasure echoes off of the walls and you slump forward as your thighs shake violently with your orgasm.

He whimpers at how tight you squeeze him, hissing through his teeth and letting go of your clit so he can start rolling you over. Needing to cum himself. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He groans out. “So perfect.” He starts to jackhammer his hips, carelessly chasing his own high while you thrash underneath him.

You cling to him, wrapping your legs around him to push him deeper as he thrusts hard and deep into you. “Cum for me baby. Cum for me.” You plead, wanting to feel him fill you up. “Please Dieter. Cum for me.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” It’s all Dieter can manage as he careens towards another orgasm. Looking down at you as he starts to cum. Hissing out in pleasure as the vein in his temple throbs and his entire body locks up as he buries his cock deep and starts to fill you up.

“So good. So good.” You choke as his cock throbs inside of you, painting your walls with his cum and you send a silent thanks to your birth control. “Baby. Oh baby.” You sigh, rubbing his back as he works himself through his orgasm.

When he’s done, he collapses against you, snuggling into your chest and tucking his head into your neck. Unwilling to let this moment end right now. Soon enough you will put that wall back up and try to keep him at a distance. “Fuck.” He slurs, feeling slightly drunk on pleasure. “Best birthday ever.”

You stroke his back, kissing his neck. “Happy birthday baby.” You murmur, closing your eyes and trying to ignore the way your heart flutters. He may be your husband on paper but after this weekend, this can’t happen again. You can’t afford for it to happen again. You need to be serious and focus on his image and the press. Work through this until you can quietly divorce.

He can feel when you start to pull away, shuffling under him. Dieter groans and starts to move off of you, pulling out of you gently and flopping onto his back with a sigh. Staring up at the ceiling and wishing that he could be granted a birthday wish.

“I, uh, need to pee and then we should get some sleep. We have an early flight back to L.A.” You tell him, shuffling off of the bed to make sure you don’t get his cum over the mattress. While you pee, you rub your eyes, uncaring of your mascara as you try to figure out what to do. You don’t know what to say to him after you just had sex sober bar a few drinks. You weren’t drugged. When you come back into the bedroom, you slide under the covers where Dieter already is. “Night. Happy birthday.” You lean over to kiss his cheek before you turn away, forcing yourself to close your eyes.

“Thanks.” Dieter stares at your back for nearly an hour, watching as you pretend to sleep and then your body relaxes as you finally do give way to sleep. Sighing, he looks back up at the ceiling again and wonders when the hell he had done the dumb thing and fallen in love with you. Rolling his eyes at himself and huffing into the dark. Admitting to himself that he had been enamored with you, and this experience had just made it crystal clear he would never have what he wanted.

The next morning, you and Dieter barely speak to each other, focusing on getting to the private jet and you’re thankful his entourage seems to have disappeared. “I- I know you don’t exactly enjoy being married to me but need to make this look good in public. I can’t - I can’t live with you Dieter. I’m sorry. I just can’t do it.” You don’t tell him why, not wanting to admit that while you hated the party person he is, you have seen a different side to him, a side that you know is the true Dieter. Not the façade he puts on, what he thinks people want from him. His true self is sweet and kind and deep. He’s smart and you wish he would let others see that side of him, not just the party animal.

Dieter’s brow furrows, a hurt expression in his face and he shakes his head. “I don’t want-“ he takes a breath and decides to be honest. “I don’t want to get divorced. I want this to- try it.” He moves from the seat that he was in to drop down onto his knees in front of your own plush leather seat. “Give me six months. Six months really being Mrs. Bravo. If you aren’t happy I’ll give you the divorce. But I- I want this.” He confesses. “I was happy when we got married. I’ve been happy with you.”

You swallow harshly, unable to believe he wants you to be actually married to him. “It’s been two days, Dieter.” You shake your head, knowing you’ll be a 5 minute wonder with him.

“Please baby. Give me a chance.” He pleads, those pretty brown eyes going glossy and part of you wonders if this is all an act. Even if it isn’t an act, he will get bored of you and if you say no, he will badger you until you say yes.

You nod, “fine. Six months.” You agree, knowing that he will be begging for a divorce within a couple of weeks when someone else catches his attention.

He lights up, grinning from ear to ear as he pushes up to kiss you. Cupping your cheeks and moaning happily against your lips. “Six months.” He promises. “It’ll be the best six months of your life.” Smirking, he waggles his brows playfully. “And the most orgasms.” He chuckles.

You snort, knowing that he is being true when he says that. He has made you cum more times than any ex lover during an entire relationship and he’s done it in two days. When the plane lands, the paps are swarming near the gate to the private airfield but thankfully, the car is waiting on the tarmac. The cameras flash and people shout as the driver carefully navigates the crowd as he exits the airfield. “God, I hope we are old news soon. Perhaps JLo and Ben will break up soon.” You chuckle, “or maybe Chris Evans gets married and they can focus on him.” You grab your phone, knowing you still need to do your job and you wince at the amount of emails. “You have a lot of interview requests.”

He smirks and nods towards the cameras, giving them a wave before he tucks you close into his side. The luggage is already being transferred and all the two of you need to do is to get to the car. “As long as you are there, book them all.” He shrugs carelessly and reaches over to pluck your phone out of your hand.

“Dieter!” You huff, reaching for it, but he pulls it out of your reach. “I need that!” You stubbornly insist. He shakes his head and grins at you.

“No, my wife needs to kiss me in front of the cameras.” He taunts, holding the phone up as hostage. “Gimme a kiss and you can have it back.”

You want to slap him but instead you kiss him, cupping his cheeks and sliding your tongue into his mouth as you kiss your husband. Hoping he gives you his phone back and satisfies the vultures. You hear shouting and you press yourself up against Dieter whose arms are now wrapped around you.

Dieter grins against your lips when you pull back, already half hard and winks at you before he pulls away, handing you the phone back. “That wasn’t so hard, was it, snookums?”

You poke his chest with your phone, "never call me that again if you want your balls, Bravo." You warn playfully and he grins.

"Whatever you say Mrs. Bravo." His words make you pause and you look down at the ring on your finger, knowing you are going to have a hard time taking it off. It seems too easy, too comfortable with Dieter. Not even 72 hours ago, you hated the obnoxious, reckless movie star and now you, God you can't even fully admit it to yourself, may even love the sweet, smart man standing in front of you.

"We, uh, need to go." You tell him when the cases are put in the back of the car.

Opening the car door with an exaggerated flourish, he blows as he waits for you to get in before him. Totally hamming it up for the cameras and generally being in a fantastic mood as he climbs in beside you. “You’re going to love the house.” He babbles. “Have to get rid of a few things, the toys that were used with others and whatnot, but it’s perfect.” He grins as he looks over at you. “Unless you want to see the toy collection first?” He asks with raised brows. “Pick out some that you want to keep? They’ve all been sanitized.”

You raise your eyebrows, "uh, how sanitized? You know...I think we can buy some new ones. Maybe pick them out together. That would be a good couples day for the paps. Bravo and wife seen shopping for sex toys." You tease, nudging his arm. "I need to move some things over, the main things I need for everyday, and I will need to get my passport and birth certificate to change my bank account for the time being. I won't legally change my name, just my status. Less complicated."

“Okay.” He pouts, but he won’t argue with you about that. He knows that this is a trial run and you could still decide to divorce him. “I need to order you a card anyway.” He pulls out his own phone to tap out a text message to his manager to get that done for him. “I’m assuming you’re keeping your place?”

You nod, “it’s an incredible rental. Great location. I have another six months left on the rent so I don’t want to let it go. I need somewhere to live. As for the card, I know we joke but I’m not a gold digger. I’ll use it for things for the house or for you but I won’t take advantage.”

He frowns, both at the idea of you going back and the comment about being a gold digger. “Sublet the place and you use the card for whatever you want.” He insists. “I don’t even look at the statements, they just get paid.”

You huff, knowing you can never win. You nod, knowing you won’t use the card unless you need to. You look out of the window and watch L.A pass by as you make your way to his home…your home for the next six months…or less. When you arrive at his home, you are impressed and automatically in love with it. “Your home is beautiful.” You haven’t been to his home before, always conducting meetings by zoom.

The thing that is surprising about where Dieter lives is that Sherman Oaks is a residential neighborhood. It’s not the party scene and he was careful not to let things get too crazy. But often his partying is done in hotels so the neighbors adore him. “We have a pool.” He announces, leering at you. “So you can lay by the pool naked and work on my publicity.” Waggling his brows, he imagines eating you out while you are on a phone call or typing up an email.

You imagine it for a moment, just enjoying your life in your new home until you remember it isn’t your new home, it’s your temporary home. “We will see, huh?” You offer him a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes and you know this entire experience can go two ways: 1) you fall for Dieter hook line and sinker, or 2) you hate him, truly hate him. With a sigh as the car comes to a stop, you thank the driver who opens the door for you and you adjust your purse on your shoulder as you admire the house.

He fidgets beside you, wondering what you think of the house. “I- you can change whatever you want.” He offers quickly. “We can hire a contractor or decorator or whatever.” He knows that most of the house is already decorated, but maybe it’s not to your taste. He gives a shrug. “I’m not sentimental about anything there.”

You shake your head, “it’s beautiful, Diet. Besides, it’s your home and I wouldn’t change anything since I’m going to be here for the next six months.” You say to yourself as much as you say it to him. With a sigh and no response, he guides you into the home, telling you to security codes as he unlocks everything, and he knows you will want to stay in a guest room. He picks the one closest to his bedroom and you admire how clean and pretty everything is. “This room is bigger than my entire apartment.” You joke, setting your purse down.

“I liked the space in this house.” He comments as he hovers in the doorway. The driver is depositing the bags in the entryway and he sighs. “Well, I guess I’ll let you get settled.” He offers, feeling oddly depressed now that you’re here and you don’t seem very enthusiastic about being here.

****

It’s been a few days that you’ve lived with Dieter. He had arranged for movers to collect your things from your apartment and you managed to sublet it for six months. It’s been strange, living with Dieter but not actually living with him. A lot of your work is done remotely so you’ve been hanging around the house, working on the PR disaster of your own making, plus dealing with the interview requests that come in hourly.

Since you’re so stressed, you decide to take up Dieter’s idea of sitting out by the pool. He is in his art studio, manically painting something when you last looked in on him, and you strip off, wanting to feel the hot sun on your entire body. You hum in delight when you lay down on the lounger, spreading out to enjoy the heat and just relax.

Dieter is in his own private hell. You are here but he feels like he can’t touch you. There’s a wall between the two of you and despite the fact that he had promised you orgasms, you haven’t seemed open to sex. He’s snorted plenty of coke, groaning as his mind mellows out and feels his body relax into a blissful state. Looking out the large double doors to see that you are spread out bedside the pool, naked. Groaning, he grabs a bottle of wine and a glass abs ventures outside.

You hear him approach, his feet slapping on the concrete and you open one eye to look up at your husband. “Hello hubby.” You tease, “brought me some wine?” He nods and pours you a glass, handing it to you. “Thank you.” You sip it and moan in appreciation. “Are you going to get naked and sit in the sun too or are you gonna stand there all day blocking it?” You joke.

It’s an invitation, and Dieter isn’t turning it down. Reaching for the hem of his shirt to drag over his head before he pushes the baggy, paint stained sweats down. His cock isn’t hard, but it’s starting to get that way, seeing your tits on display. “I guess I’m joining you.”

The lounger is big enough for you both and you shuffle over to allow him to lay down. You sip your wine and hand the glass to him so he can take a sip. “How’s your painting coming along?” You ask, admiring him in the sun. God, he’s too sexy for your own good.

“It’s done.” He groans at the taste of the white that he had chosen. “It’s pretty good, I think, but you can see it if you want.” He hands the glass back over to you and nods towards your phone. “Getting my image back in pristine order?” He asks sarcastically, knowing he’s never had a great public image. He’s too much of a wild card.

You chuckle, "that's an impossible task. Those coke snorting photos are still on the internet." You tease, knowing he was younger then. "I am working on it though. Bit hard to paint you as a happily married man when you've been such a whore." You sip the wine, setting the glass down and shifting closer to him. You reach out to trace the tattoo on his chest, unable to stop yourself from touching him when he's so close.

“It’s not like people change.” He huffs, skin tingling when you touch him. “When you're single, who cares who you do?” He smirks over at you. “Not like you didn’t sleep with people, you just didn’t have everyone taking pictures of every one of them and keeping tabs like it was a lottery list of who I was going to fuck next.”

His words hit you and you realize how intense it has been for him to have his entire life under a microscope, constantly photographed. "I'm sorry you've had to deal with that. I have only dealt with it for a week and it has been intense. I can understand why you sought solace in drugs and sex." You look at him as you caress his chest, down to his tummy.

“I’m sorry.” Dieter murmurs softly, feeling bad that you’ve been put through this. “It’s one for the reasons that no one lasts.” He admits quietly. “They either can’t handle the pressure or all they wanted was the press.” He doesn’t mention that he was a shit partner. He was or maybe is (?) selfish. After all, you’re here when you don’t want to be.

You shake your head, looking at him, "you shouldn't be sorry. You are a successful actor. An Oscar winner. You have achieved greatness and you should be with a partner who appreciates that and understands that your life is under the public eye. That you are beloved by the masses. You need someone who can ground you and remind you of the simple things in life like cooking dinner or going for a walk on the beach. You are a good man Dieter, selfish sometimes, but you care too much and I think that's why you haven't found the right person for you."

He bites his lip to keep him from blurting out that he had, but she just hates him. At least doesn’t like him enough to stay married to him. Instead he plasters a shit eating grin. “I always like being ordered around.” He growls suggestively, meaning in the bedroom.

"Yeah?" You tease, sliding your hand lower until you are caressing his thigh, his half hard cock near your touch but you haven't touched him there since Vegas. "You want me to tell you what to do?" You murmur, shifting closer so you can kiss his neck, licking up to the tattoo he has behind his ear.

“Shiiiiiit.” He hisses softly, cock twitching. You touching him is like a drug if it’s own. Making his cock start to throb and grow as he hardens. “Yes.” He huffs out the whine, turning his head to beg him with his eyes. “Order me around.”

You grip his chin, keeping your eyes on him, and you lean closer. “I want you to let me ride your face. I want you to make me cum on your tongue.” You order, knowing he’s hard but you want him to have to wait. This moment is about you. You want to be in charge.

Whimpering, Dieter nods eagerly and pulls his chin out of your grip so that he can slide down the longer and lay flat. “Take a seat.” He groans, licking his lips in anticipation.

You shift, straddling his face, and you exhale shakily as you look down into those beautiful brown eyes, hungry as they flick between your face and your cunt. You lower your pussy to his face and he immediately grabs your hips, practically suffocating himself with your cunt as his tongue slides through your folds. "Fuck!" You yelp, moaning his name as you cling to the top of the lounger for balance.

He groans happily, tasting you and falling in love with the musky, tangy taste. His fingers dig into your hips and he drags you closer. He wants to suffocate himself in you, he would die a happy man right here with your weight on his tongue. Flicking his it against your clit, he groans into your folds when your thighs tighten around his head.

"Oh God baby. Feels so good." You pant, rocking your hips on his face, and you cry out when he sucks your clit between his lips. "Oh God yes." You cry, rocking your hips and using the lounger as leverage to ride his face.

He chuckles, loving that you are letting go. That woman that he had experienced in Vegas is here again, rocking her cunt on your face. Dieter slaps your ass and loves the way you squeal his name again, lurching forward and he slides his tongue deep into your walls, pressing his nose against your clit.

“Oh fuck.” You buck wildly, grinding down onto his mouth as his tongue probes deep, curling and his nose rubs your clit just right. “Shit baby. You’re gonna make me cum. Always - always know just what to do. You’re gonna make me cum and then - then I want you to fuck me. Want you to - to make me scream your name so loud, everyone in this goddamn neighborhood knows you are fuck- fucking me- oh fuck!” You squeal, thighs shaking as he hits just right, sending you over the edge.

You drench him, making him groan and rock you on his face more. Drinking down your juices as they pour into his mouth with a muffled moan of your name as you slowly grind down onto him. Happily coated in your cum and cock throbbing.

You shake above him, riding your orgasm and you move quickly despite the lethargy the orgasm grants you to shift back and straddle his thighs, gripping his cock to sink down on his hard cock while your walls still flutter from your orgasm.

“Shit!” Dieter cries out your name, shocked by the sudden way you engulf his cock in your pussy. “Oh fuck.” He looks up at you, pussy drunk and still wearing your juices as you start to move. “Oh fuck me baby.” He groans, grabbing and squeezing your tits while you bounce on him.

You want control and you take it, grabbing his wrists and pushing them back to rest against the lounger, stopping him touching you. "You don't get to touch me unless I tell you too." You order, starting to move your hips, grinding down onto his cock. You lean forward, biting down on his chin. "Your cock is mine, I decide when you cum. You understand?"

Wailing his agreement, Dieter nods frantically. “Yours, all yours baby. Oh fuck, it’s all yours.” He babbles. “Have- haven’t jerked off since we - we got back.” He confesses, blushing hotly at the fact.

The fact he hasn't touched himself makes you wild. You start to fuck him, rolling and rocking your hips frantically like you can't get enough of him. "Oh fuck. That - this cock really is mine. Fuck Dieter. It's so good. No one has ever made me feel like this. Love it. Love it." You ramble, sweat beading on your brow as you ride him like a damn bronco.

His fingers wrap around the lounger slats desperate to obey your orders and not touch you. God, he wants to. Your tits are bouncing and he wants to suck on them. He wants to slap your ass and beg you to go faster, to use him to make yourself cum again. “Love- l-love it.” He agrees breathlessly.

Your nails dig into his wrists as you desperately seek your orgasm. “Oh fuck. I’m gonna cum.” You lean forward a little more so the coarse hair at the base of his cock rubs your clit and it sends you over the edge. Coming to an abrupt stop above him as your thighs shake, a wail escaping your lips as you cum, soaking his cock.

Keening at the hot rush of liquid covering him, he bucks up into you. Knowing that he is on the edge but your words linger in the back of his mind. “Can- can I cum?” He begs. “Please, oh fuck, please let me cum.”

You ride your orgasm, catching your breath as you look down to see the desperate look in his eyes. “Not. Yet.” You say through gritted teeth, starting to rock on him again. “I want to cum once more. Do not cum.” You order, wanting him desperate and whining and pleading.

Whimpering, Dieter clenches his eyes shut, knowing that he can’t look at you. If he watches you cum again, he won’t be able to hold back. “Fuck Bravo, think about stocks. Think about your bullshit dealer.” He hisses quietly, trying to keep from cumming before you let him as he shuffles his legs under you and tries not to cum.

You giggle at his struggle until you moan when you find the right spot inside of you. “Oh fuck Dieter. Feel so good. So good.” You moan, cupping his cheeks after letting go of his wrists. “Keep your hands where they are. You can’t touch.” You remind him, biting down on his bottom lip to stop his ramblings. You are so close to another orgasm, your thighs burning while you grind down onto him.

“Fuck.” He hisses, pouting at you. “You’re so- so, fuck.” His back bows slightly when you clench down around him and he cries out in frustration. “Fuck baby, I-I-I need to cum!”

"No!" You gasp, on the precipice of your own orgasm and you want to deny him. He gets whatever he wants and you have a chance to control this, make him beg. You cup his cheeks before you slap him, making his cock throb inside of you, so close to busting his nut. "Beg. Fucking beg me." You demand, breathless with how close you are.

“Let me cum, please, please, please let me cum.” Dieter whines, his eyes popping open and pleading with you desperately. “Please baby, please I want- I need- oh fuck.” His body goes taunt and his hand grips the slat of the lounger so hard he breaks it, trying to keep himself from cumming.

His pleas send you over the edge and you whine his name as you cum, clamping down on his cock and soaking him again. "Cum for me. Cum for me." You order with a squeal, "fucking cum."

Shouting your name, Dieter follows your order immediately. Whining and whimpering while he experiences the most intense orgasm he’s ever had, not even cognizant of what is coming out of his mouth. “Fuck, I love you, I love you, I love you.”

You freeze on top of him, your entire body going cold as you look down at him. “What did you say?” You whisper. You lean back to look at him, his cock still twitching inside of you and he is blissed out, eyes rolling into his head. “What did you say?” You ask louder, heart pounding in your chest.

Sighing and relaxing, Dieter reaches down and caresses your sides. “Fuck baby.” He pants softly, eyes still closed with a smile on his face. “God I love you.” He slurs and sighs again. “That - was, Jesus, I must have cum a fucking gallon’s worth.”

You slap his chest, shifting to get off of his cock. "Oh my God. What have you done?" You choke, grabbing your towel to wrap it around yourself as you walk into the house, tears stinging in your eyes as you absorb his words, most likely said in the heat of the moment.

Dieter sits up, dumbfounded and staring after you. “What did I do?” He demands loudly, calling after you, but you are already gone. He flops back onto the lounger and huffs, confused and hurt that you hate him so much that you play hot and cold with him. It’s cruel.

After his lust fueled confession, you stay away from Dieter, and avoid him whenever you can. Going to coffee shops to work or going out for lunch by yourself. It's not good for his PR but you manage to go to less popular areas to avoid the paps and anyone taking photos of "Mrs. Bravo" alone. You feel guilty, essentially abandoning your husband but you imagine he has some new pussy or ass to fuck that has distracted him. You usually go to your room, avoiding him, and feeling guilty and angry at your own silly emotions.

Since you left him alone, he’s drank, a lot. Realizing that you don’t love him and it’s almost enough to sober him. Ironic, he fucked around and did whatever he wanted for so long, but now he’s wanting the one person he can’t have. His head is pounding and he wants something to eat that didn’t come from a bag, so he shuffles downstairs to see if there is anything in the fridge. Hating how he feels even more alone than he did before his birthday.

You are bringing in groceries when you find Dieter rifling through the pantry. "You hungry?" You ask, speaking to him for the first time in God knows how long. You can see the dark circles under his eyes and the stains on his clothes. He hasn't been taking care of himself. "I can cook us something. Sit down." You order, setting the grocery bags on the counter.

“‘M fine.” Dieter mumbles, ready to slink off to another part of the house again. To wallow in the misery that he’s created. He’s good at that. “Just gonna order something.”

"Sit down." You tut, knowing he hasn't eaten properly. He never does unless you arrange it. He gets too in his head, too in his art and you know he's been studying that new script. "Sit down and let me make you something." You reach into the fridge to get him a beer and set it down on the counter before you put the groceries away, figuring out a quick pasta meal to cook.

Grunting, he twists the top off the bottle and gulps down half of it before setting it back on the counter. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand he watches you move through the kitchen as if you own it. “What did I do?” He asks quietly, staring at the counter so he doesn’t have to look at you. He can tell the world to fuck off, but he’s terrified of you hating him.

You set the tomato sauce down and turn back towards him. “You- we agreed to do this for six months and then you go - you told me you loved me. I don’t know if that was in the moment but Dieter - I can’t - you don’t love me. You just - I’m the closest person to you right now so you think you do but you don’t love me.” You turn from him so he doesn’t see the pain in your eyes.

Dieter snorts and huffs out a laugh. “Wow. So you know me that well huh?” He spits, irritated that you keep looking down on him. Treating him like he’s the gum on the bottom of your shoe. “You told me you’d give me an honest chance for six months.” He reminds you. “Nice to know you're counting down the days.” The chair he had sat in scrapes back as he stands. “Wonder why I’m an asshole? I admit how I feel and I get ghosted by my wife. But you don’t really want to be my wife. You’re just biding time.” He tosses the rest of the beer in the trash. “I lost my appetite.” He tells you, turning to walk out of the kitchen, desperate to snort something to make him not give a shit.

You stare as he rushes out of the kitchen, tears stinging in your eyes and you turn to flick off the stove. You clench your jaw, suddenly angry at his dismissal. He always gets the last word. You set the spatula down and follow him, banging your hand on his bedroom door after he slammed it. “You’re such a coward. You told me when you had just cum. What was I supposed to think? That you actually meant it? It’s torture living here. Knowing that you don’t really love me, you’re just - you need attention whereas I am actually in fucking love with your selfish ass and yet I can’t escape because you let us get married while I was high. I just - I hate you. I love you! I love you too, you fucking prick. Is that what you want to hear? Because I do. I can’t stop thinking about you and I thought that if I avoided you I’d save us both the heartache when you move on to the next best thing and instead you decide to mop around and then you - God, I don’t know what to do. You’ve complicated this by making me fall for you.” You slump against the wall opposite the double doors to his bedroom suite.

Snatching the door open, Dieter growls, ready for a fight. “Then fucking leave!” He hiss, grabbing you by the arms and dragging you upright. His eyes are dark and passionate. “Leave if you’re so goddamn miserable, because I’m fucking miserable. I just want to-“ he doesn’t say another word, just crushes his lips to yours desperately. Breaking down and confessing his worst fear. “Don’t leave me.” He begs between sloppy kisses, hands pulling you closer. “Don’t. Fucking. Leave.”

You react immediately to his words, reaching for him to tangle your fingers in his hair and you press your lips to his again. “I don’t want to leave.” You admit against his mouth, sighing his name as you slide your tongue between his lips, finally feeling like you’re home.

He pulls you back and starts to steer you towards his bedroom. He needs to touch you, to taste you. Pushing you through the doors as he continues to keep kissing you. Pawing at your dress in a desperate attempt to get it off of you while he keeps his mouth locked to yours.

“Wait. Wait baby.” You push on his chest, groaning when his lips attach to your neck. “Baby. I - I am on my period.” You warn him, not wanting him to be surprised or grossed out when he fucks you. He might decide not to, if it’s not his thing.

Scoffing, he bites down on your pulse and pulls away. “So? It’s natural.” He tells you casually. “Doesn’t mean I’m not going to lick your pussy until you cum for me.”

You shiver at his words, realizing once again how different he is compared to your exes. That’s why you love him. “Oh God. You are insatiable.” You joke, letting him guide you back towards his massive bed. You haven’t been in here before.

He snickers and nips at your collar bone before he pushes you back onto the plush bed. Throwing off his shirt, he keeps the sweats on, knowing he will want to rush if he strips off too fast. “Yep.” He watches as you pull off your dress and he reaches for your panties, far more practical for your time of the month than sexy. “Period panties turn me on.” He jokes, winking at you. “Played a vampire once.”

You let him drag your panties down and he pushes your legs open, exposing your folds, and you fluster when Dieter finds the string of your tampon. “I- you can leave it in. You don’t - I know it’s not - God I have never done this before.” You fluster, covering your face, “can you leave it in?”

He thinks it’s adorable that you are so worked up over a tampon being inside you. “You’re so fucking cute.” He coos, wiggling his hips and settling between your spread thighs. “Don’t worry baby, it just tastes a little coppery.” He chuckles and peels your lips apart with his thumb. “Not even messy, besides-“ you pull your hands down from your face and look at him. “I eat my steaks rare.” He jokes before he flattens his tongue against your clit.

Your groan is a combination of embarrassment at his words and pleasure of his tongue flicking over your clit. With a whine, you buck your hips into his face and reach down to tangle your fingers in his hair. “Fuck.” You sigh in bliss, having missed this…missed him. “Always so good. You’re so good at that.” You moan when he sucks on your clit.

He wants to make this good for you. Needing you to feel loved and taken care of. Plus he doesn’t mind the way you taste at all. He hums against your flesh when you tug on his hair and grind shamelessly down on his face.

“God, that feels so good, baby. So good. I love it. I- oh shit.” Your head rolls into the pillow, so sensitive from your period, and it doesn’t take long to work you up to your orgasm. His name escapes his lips as you cum when he sucks on your clit.

He groans along with you while you ride out your bliss, watching you carefully and pulling away to kiss your inner thighs while your chest heaves. “Can I fuck you, baby?” He asks softly between kisses. He’s had enough lovers to know that every woman is different during their period. He’s a selfish asshole, but he’s not that big of a dick to expect or demand sex.

“I don’t - I’m sorry. I don’t really like sex during my period. It hurts too much. Can I- I want to jerk you off. Want to watch you cum.” You offer, reaching down to squeeze his cock through his thin sweats.

Dieter kisses your stomach and shuffles up to lay down beside you. “You don’t have to, sweetheart. I don’t expect it.” He promises. “I’m not going to be upset if you just want to lay here and rest.”

“I want to make you cum. Please.” You lean forward to kiss his neck, reaching for his sweats and when he doesn’t push your hand away, you reach in to wrap your fingers around his cock, pulling him free of his sweats. “Such a gorgeous cock and it’s all mine.” You murmur, kissing his jaw as you start to pump him in your hand.

Groaning, Dieter turns his head and chases your lips. “All yours.” He pants into your mouth, groaning again when you squeeze the head. “Fuck, all yours.” He’s needy, lifting his hips into your grip but he doesn’t care. Your touch feels so much better than his own and he wants to fall apart to it.

You love how eager he is for you, and you twist your wrist as you pump him, swiping your thumb over the head of his cock, and you slide your tongue into his mouth when he whines your name. “I love you, baby.” You murmur against his lips, pumping him a little faster before you squeeze the head again, swiping your thumb over it to gather more pre-cum.

Shuddering under your confession, he groans. “Fuck, gonna cum baby.” He warns you, cock throbbing in your hand and one twist of your wrist, he’s cumming. Painting his chest with hot ropes of his sticky seed while you milk him of every drop while he whines. “Love you.”

You work him through it, loving the wrecked look on his face as he enjoys his orgasm. You kiss all over his face when he relaxes, “so beautiful.” You whisper before bringing your hand up to your mouth to lick his cum from your digits.

“I do love you.” Dieter promises softly. “It’s - I know you think that it’s just some kind of amusement or passing fancy. But I do.” He reaches over and cups your cheek. “I don’t regret marrying you in Vegas for a second.”

You smile, shifting to snuggle into his side, uncaring of his drying cum. “Me neither. I thought I did at first but I look back on it and it was just…comfortable. Like it was meant to be. I know we have a lot to discuss for our future and I know it’s gonna have bumps in the road but I don’t want to pretend to be Mrs. Bravo anymore, I want to be Mrs. Bravo. I want to be yours, your wife. I love you Dieter and I’m so sorry I’ve been such a bitch. It’s just - it’s been a lot to work through and I have needed time to figure out how I feel. I know what I feel and I know what I want…a life with you.”

Dieter beams happily, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. “Good.” He chuckles against your lips. “Because I want you to be Mrs. Bravo. For real. Us, together.” He waggles his brows. “Will you move into the bedroom with me?” He asks. “Let me snuggle you after sex at least once?”

You smile, nodding at him. “Yes. I’d like that baby. I’d like that a lot.” You sigh, breathing him in.

“And I want babies.” He adds, making you choke.

“One step at a time, my love. We have a lot to figure out but we will do it all together.” You promise and he smiles, nudging his nose against yours.

“Together. I like the sound of that, Mrs. Bravo.”

You giggle, giddy with happiness that he loves you. “Me too, Mr. Bravo.”

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