“Did you want a drink?” Till looked down at me with those bright eyes of his, his mahogany hair combed just so; fluffy and clean after the shower he took earlier. The house was packed of course, Till threw the best parties.
“How do you know so many people?” I ask , tone dripping with disbelief. The crowded halls and rooms of the house pulsed and surged with music and life. There is a heavy scent of alcohol, perfume, and an acrid undertone of smoke. Signs of the three things Till swore you needed to have a great party.
Alcohol.
Drugs.
Women.
He shrugs, taking a languid drag of his cigarette. “I don’t know all of them” he says this like it isn't as utterly alarming as most people would find it. He smirks at me like he’s able to read my mind. Till and I are night and day for the most part but somehow we’ve always gotten along so well. I consider him a best friend, once or twice we dipped our toes into maybe becoming something more but being the stubborn ass he is; he refuses to commit to anyone and I refuse to not be committed to.
“There are strangers in your home” I deadpan. He laughs now. The sound bubbling from his chest as he looks around the room. “What’s the worst they can do?” His sculpted shoulders lift again in a half hearted shrug.
“I mean, besides murder you?” I ask only half jokingly. Till levels me with a look that tells me I’m being paranoid. I roll my eyes and concede. Ok so I’m being a little paranoid.
“What if they steal your stuff?”
Another puff of smoke passes his soft looking lips, my eyes linger only for a moment before snapping back up to his gaze. He caught me and we both know it. His tongue flicks over his lips as if he’s daring me to look again; and I do because What's he gonna do about it?
His smile is slow and calculated and for a brief moment we had a silent conversation, an understanding of mutual attraction. If we didn’t know any better , Till would take me by the hand and lead me to the first available room and fuck me until I can’t remember what day it is.
But we know better…
Till knows he and I want different things romantically. He respects me too much to use me for a fuck and drop me, he’ll find some other girl to get him off tonight. Which is really too bad because Till is one flaw away from being the perfect man. And that flaw is his distaste for commitment. Other than that, he’s compassionate, generous, patient , funny , interesting, emotionally intelligent and he makes me feel completely and totally safe. I trust him with my life and body entirely.
“If they steal my stuff so what let them have it, it’s all crap anyway”
I roll my eyes , typical Till answer.
“Are you going to drink or are you going to be a wallflower tonight?” He circles back to his first question. I kick my legs that dangled from the stool I sat on.
“You know I don’t drink” my legs come to a stop and my eyebrows lift.
“Ja Ja… wallflower it is” he puts his cigarette out and stands from his seat.
“I’m going to get a drink , if you need me call me”
And with that he disappears into the mass of partygoers. I smile after him, watching him with admiration as he goes. Is he a shithead? Yes. Pain in my ass? Yes. Does he irk me and annoy me? Yes. Yes.
Do I love him in all senses of the word? ……. Yes
An hour or so later , people watching has gotten boring. I've had my fill of small talk, my social battery was long depleted and I’m ready to go home. I won’t leave without saying bye to Till though; and thus began my search. I start on the main floor , combing through the obvious groups of people. Those playing pacman? I won’t find him there; he's not all that into gaming. Those making an absolute ass of themselves climbing on the furniture and dancing like morons? Negative , Till is an observer.
I continued looking, even checked the deck and front porch, no sign of him. Knocking on the bathroom doors I was met with ‘someone’s in here’ or the sound of someone vomiting. That wouldn't be him either; he can hold his liquor.
God, all these people and all this noise, I’m half tempted to just sleep here but where would I go? Most rooms are probably occupied and some of these idiots wouldn't leave until the next morning.
“Well Till… I tried” I mutter to myself as I turn back around towards the front door. I’ll call him when I get home to let him know I made it okay.
Pushing through people , I sigh with relief at the feeling of the cool air breaking against my skin. It was so fucking hot in there. The sky is pitch black , twinkling stars strewn across it haphazardly. Tilting my head to gaze up at them I catch the shadow of a figure in one of the cars parked on the lawn.
my head turns and my eyes adjust in the dark , though the moonlight and porchlight help illuminate a face I know every curve and contour of.
Till.
My first thought is ‘what the hell is he doing in the back of a car?’ And then when I see the fist of long blonde hair bunched in his grip and the girl's head bobbing up and down I realize what I've stumbled upon.
You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.
He’s getting sucked off in a random car, no wonder I couldn’t find him. ok just - just go home. Just look away and go home.
My fingers grip the hem of my shirt as I stutter on my feet. I want to walk away, I want to leave; I do. But for some reason I couldn't rip my gaze from him, his face relaxed completely, eyes closed , head tilted back against the headrest of his seat. His Adam’s apple bobs a few times , he’s moaning.
Oh Jesus. My core tightens and a liquid warmth moves through my belly. Ive seen Till in lots of ways before, Ive seen him tired, I've seen him drunk, I've seen him sick , I've seen him hurt, I've seen him happy, I've seen him sad. I have never seen him in the throes of passion, on the brink of cumming. His expression so at ease, all tension gone from his face. His jaw clenching with the effort it’s taking him to not cum, he’s trying to enjoy it for as long as he can.
I can’t help but wonder who the girl is, probably some random woman he's never met before. Whoever she is, she's really going to town. Good for her.
The car is rocking with the intensity of their encounter. And as if he can feel me standing here he opens his eyes and finds me instantly. An expression I can’t read passes over his face but he doesn’t stop. He keeps fucking her mouth , not breaking eye contact with him, not hiding his enjoyment ; I can see his lips part as he moans, I can see them move as he swears and says things to spur her on. Fuck I wish I could read lips.
His eyes are glued to mine and it makes my heart pound in my chest , he fucks her harder, gripping her hair with both hands now and pushing her head down as far as she’ll go. He’s fucking her but he’s locked on me.
And that’s something I won’t unpack right now.
Right now I need to just leave, I need to go home and go to bed and pretend this didn’t happen. I turn and quickly walk down the lawn , crossing the street and not breaking stride until I’m in my apartment closing the door behind me.
The first thing I do is take a shower, I want to wash the smell of that party off me and clear my mind. Why didn't he stop? He didn’t even look embarrassed, he looked like he was glad I saw; like he wanted me to see him seeing me.
Was he picturing me?
Using that other girl but yearning for me?
I step out of the shower, dry myself off and throw on an old sleep shirt before climbing in bed. I can’t stop thinking about Till, will he think differently of me now? Will he bring it up the next time I see him? Would our dynamic change?
My mind pooled with anxieties, worries and questions as I lay in bed tucked comfortably under my blanket. I watched my closest friend and crush get a blow job from another woman tonight and the most prominent question of all?
I've had this idea forever but I'm too lazy to do it myself lol, can you do one where you work for Richard as an assistant on tour and you both are flirty all tour and at the final crew party he makes his move? Super smutty please 🙏 🖤 thank youuuuu (also I love your fics they're amazing!!)
after the final bow 〣 richard kruspe
Title: After the Final bow
Pairing: Richard Kruspe x Female Reader
Setting: On tour, final crew party
Genre: Smut, Flirty Tension, Assistant x Boss dynamic
Word Count: ~2100-ish
-
You weren’t sure when it started.
Maybe it was that first night you brought him a towel and caught him shirtless, sweat-soaked and smiling. Maybe it was in Frankfurt, when his hand brushed your lower back and lingered. Or maybe it was when you realized Richard Kruspe was always exactly where you were—backstage, side stage, soundcheck—eyes always on you, hungry and dark.
You were supposed to be his assistant. Professional. Efficient. Buttoned-up. But professionalism got harder every time he smirked at you, every time he said your name like a secret.
Now, weeks of tension had led to this: the final crew party of the tour. Alcohol flowed like water, laughter echoed down concrete halls, and someone was blasting industrial remixes from a Bluetooth speaker. But you were barely aware of any of it.
Because Richard was watching you again.
He stood across the room in all black—tight t-shirt, silver chains, eyes fixed on you like he was already undressing you with his mind. He didn’t look away when your gaze caught his. Just tilted his head slightly and lifted his glass in a silent toast.
The moment stretched out, thick with promise.
You made your way toward him, heart thudding behind your ribs. “You’ve been staring,” you said, feigning nonchalance.
“I’ve been waiting,” he said, voice low, thick with something darker.
“For what?”
He leaned in, breath ghosting your ear. “For you to stop pretending you don’t want me.”
A chill ran down your spine, and before you could reply, he gently grabbed your wrist and tugged you toward the back exit. Past the noise. Past the crew. Down a dim hallway that led to one of the band’s private lounges—quiet, locked, soundproof.
The second the door clicked shut, his mouth was on yours.
Hot. Demanding. Possessive.
He backed you into the wall and kissed you like he was starving—tongue sliding past your lips, hands already under your shirt, gripping your waist. You gasped as his hips pressed against you, unmistakably hard through his jeans.
“You’ve been teasing me all tour,” he murmured against your lips. “Do you even know what you do to me?”
You smiled, eyes lidded. “Maybe.”
“Little brat,” he growled, dragging your shirt up and over your head. “Let’s see if you can still smirk when you’re screaming my name.”
You barely had time to gasp before he was kissing down your neck, your collarbone, your chest—rough stubble scraping your skin in the best way. He dropped to his knees, tugging your jeans down with practiced ease, and looked up at you like a man ready to sin.
“Take these off,” he said, nodding to your panties. “Now.”
Your hands trembled slightly as you slid them down, baring yourself completely in the low light. His eyes darkened, lips parting just slightly as he took in the sight of you.
“Fuck,” he muttered. “I’ve dreamed of this.”
And then his mouth was on you—hot, wet, and devastating.
You moaned, one hand flying to his hair as he licked up your slit and sucked your clit between his lips. He worked you slowly at first, savoring it, groaning like he was addicted to your taste.
“God, you’re soaked,” he growled. “You wanted this too. Knew it.”
Two fingers slid inside you, thick and curling perfectly as he latched onto your clit again, tongue flicking in tight, fast circles.
You gasped, back arching, thighs trembling. “Richard—oh my God—”
He didn't stop. Didn't let up. Just kept going, pushing you higher, dragging it out until you came hard around his fingers with a cry, legs nearly giving out.
When he pulled back, your slick glistened on his lips and chin. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes still locked on yours as he stood.
“My turn,” he said simply, already undoing his belt.
You watched as he shoved his jeans and boxers down, revealing his cock—thick, flushed, leaking at the tip. He stroked it slowly, deliberately, watching your reaction.
You dropped to your knees without being told.
“Good girl,” he murmured, threading his fingers through your hair. “Open your mouth.”
You did, and he slid in slow, groaning as the head passed your lips. You took him deeper, using your hand to stroke what you couldn’t reach, tongue swirling as he began to thrust shallowly into your mouth.
“Look at you,” he breathed. “On your knees for me. Just like I imagined.”
You moaned around him, the praise making heat bloom low in your belly again. You hollowed your cheeks, letting him hit the back of your throat, spit dripping messily down your chin.
“Fuck,” he gasped, pulling out suddenly. “Too good. Need to be inside you before I lose it.”
He hauled you up, turned you around, and bent you over the nearest armchair. One large hand gripped your hip, the other guided himself to your entrance.
He pushed in slowly, letting you feel every inch.
You both groaned—he from how tight you were, you from how deep he reached. He bottomed out and paused, one hand splayed against your lower back.
“So fucking tight,” he growled, voice strained. “Mine now. All mine.”
Then he started to move.
Hard. Deep. Relentless.
Your fingers gripped the arm of the chair as he fucked you from behind, his hips slapping against your ass, the wet sounds of your bodies echoing obscenely in the small room.
“You like that?” he gritted. “Being used like this?”
“Yes—fuck, yes—”
He grinned darkly. “You’re gonna be sore tomorrow. And every time you sit, you’ll remember who fucked you like this.”
His hand slid between your thighs, finding your clit again, rubbing tight, fast circles as he pounded into you.
You came again with a strangled moan, body convulsing around him. He groaned loud, fingers digging into your hips as he slammed into you a few more times before spilling inside you with a rough growl of your name.
He stayed there, chest pressed to your back, breathing ragged.
After a long pause, he pulled out and turned you gently around, cupping your face in both hands.
“You alright?” he asked softly, brushing your sweaty hair from your face.
You nodded, breathless and dazed. “More than alright.”
He smirked, kissed your forehead, then your mouth. Slower now. Almost sweet.
“So,” he murmured, “still planning to be my assistant next tour?”
You raised an eyebrow. “Only if it includes benefits like this.”
Richard grinned, wicked and knowing. “Baby, this is just the beginning.”
♡ summary: you travel around with Till and the band while he makes you wear a full latex suit
♡ genre: smut
♡ word count: 950
♡ a/n: this is my first fanfic in a long time so I’m a little rusty. But I’ll get there. I promise
➽───────────────❥
Being Till’s girlfriend had a few benefits. One of which was traveling with him for all his personal as well as Rammstein tours.
The only unfortunate part was what he made you wear. Anything from short frilly skirts to tight latex pants with no underwear (because he didn’t like to see the panty lines beneath the thin latex). But so far his favourite was the full latex bodysuit along with a mask. For that exact reason, he made the band stop taking flights and instead move in trucks. So he could watch you scurry behind his long strides in your 7-inch heels.
That’s how you got into this position right now. “You’ve been bad. I told you I’d do something to you, Schatzi” His deep voice rumbled as he helped you out of the tall truck cabin. You moved to stand next to him only for him to push you on your knees. Despite the full mask over your face, your confusion was visible.
“Get down, Hure. Let’s take you for a walk” He grinned as he reached down to wrap a pink collar around your neck, holding the leash with a gentle smile.
“Come on you little bitch. I might let you eat something as well”He said and it sent a strong pulse down to your core. He took a few long strides after his friends who chatted happily in front of the small restaurant you stopped at. You crawled behind him on your hands and knees, careful not to scrape your long red nails on the harsh concrete. You looked through the small eye holes in the mask, watching as his bandmates eyed you carefully, grinning to themselves before they averted their eyes like they always did.
The group walked in, Till dragging you harshly behind up to the table they had selected. The six sat down, smiling warmly at the tired waitress who handed them the dingy, worn-down menus. She eyed you judgementally until a harsh tug on the leash pulled your attention back to Till. He gave you a disapproving scowl before returning his attention back to his mates. They ordered their subpar food, complaining but still eagerly wolfing it down after a long day of traveling.
It was a few minutes later that Till got up to use the bathroom, dragging you on all fours behind him. In the bathroom he pulled you into the stall, closing and locking the door.
“You did so well tonight, Schatzi. Come here, you deserve your dinner as well” He grinned darkly as he undid his black pants. It wasn’t as if you’d never seen his cock, but it always sent a shiver down your spine and a tingle in your pussy.
He undid the zipper you had over your mouth and shoved you down on his cock. He groaned in delight, his voice rumbling beautifully in the back of his throat. He held onto your hair which was pulled in a ponytail that stuck out of the full-head latex mask. You licked pathetically on the thick vein on the underside of his dick, trying hard to breathe through your nose.
“Gut. Sehr gut. Ah…” He always forgot to speak in English to you in the heat of the moment. That’s when he set a brutal pace. Holding your head still by your ponytail as he rammed his hips against your face. It was sloppy and hot, spit running down the smooth latex on the floor in thick strings as he cussed under his breath. You reached up to touch his clothed thighs only for him to yank your wrists away and shove you down further on his cock until you gagged.
“I never allowed you to touch, you stupid bitch! Did my cock fuck your little brains out too much? You’re actually that stupid now?” He cooed as he reached down to slap your cheek. You shook your head, nose hidden under the latex nuzzled into his dark pubes in denial.
“Then don’t fucking touch me and take what I give you!” He demanded authoritatively, making you whine in submission. With that, the pace began again. His balls slapped against your chin, his thick swollen head pressing at your uvula making you gurgle and gag pathetically. He cussed silently, huffing like a dog. It would usually turn you off, but this was Till we’re talking about. He could and does the most disgusting things and you’re ready to take him whenever.
His hips stuttered after a few thrusts, pressing your head tightly against his pubic bone as he released with a heavy sigh. His head fell back, knocking against the wimpy door of the cubicle. You swallowed his bitter cum, feeling as the gluey slime slid down your throat, some into your nose and windpipe. But you didn’t mind. You sighed dreamily when he pulled his limp dick out of your mouth wiping it into your hair like a tissue before tucking himself in.
“Let’s go. We need to keep moving to reach the hotel in time” He said as he made you stand up, your legs wobbly from kneeling down for so long as he tugged you out. His friends were unbothered when you finally appeared, they paid already and took a quick smoke before jumping back into the trucks. You climbed carefully into the cabin with Till, laying your head against his thick muscular thigh. He pet your head and cooed praises as the convoy set off again.
You honestly didn’t mind Till belittling you and using you whenever he pleased. It’s what you signed up for when you started dating. What you didn’t expect is to enjoy being treated like this so much.
➽───────────────❥
♡ a/n: if you catch any mistakes I’m sorry. Any ideas are appreciated <3
theoretically if you do decide to write rammstein x reader might i say that i would request völkerball era christoph schneider?
Of course my love !! 💟 I would be delighted to write for our sweet völkerball Schneider, in fact I was thinking that if I start writing for Rammstein I might write for him first 🤭
Gut Für Dich - Part II - Oli x Reader x Schneider [Rammstein]
Daddy kink, dirty talk, rough groupie sex, threesome. By commission for @bloodandglittertastessobitter! HAVE FUN SEEING THE BOYS THIS WEEKEND BABE!!!!!!!!
Your phone buzzes, and you know who it is even before you look down.
Oli Reidel sent a photo.
Unable to keep the stupid grin off your face, you swipe and open whatever he's sent. It's a photo of him with one hand smoothing over his head, out for a run on the beach in Italy, where they're playing right now. You still can't believe you got the number of Rammstein's bassist, but the more you think about it, the more sense it makes-- you did give those two the night of their lives. That changes your smile a little to a dreamier one as you think of the man you're not in as close contact with: Schneider. He pops into your thoughts now and then when you're thinking of that night, and it never fails to light a fire inside you.
But, you're not about to ignore the prime bachelor on the screen in your hands either. Paying special attention to noting Oli's clothes, you see he's got a tight shirt, hoodie, and grey sweatpants on. Fuck. Grey sweatpants.
You're dressed for winter, you tease him back by text.
It's cold by the beach, he writes back almost immediately.
A few seconds later, a snowman emoji comes in. You shake your head, giggling.
Well, I enjoy the view of your [eggplant emoji] in those sweatpants.
You don't get a response this time-- you assume he's blushing, tucking his phone away, and finishing his run. An idea creeps into your mind as you get up and peel your clothes off. You had just come home from work, and it felt good to strip. Wouldn't Oli like to see? It's only fair, if he got to tease you.
You snap a quick photo, making it look like an effortless pose. It exposes your cleavage in your bra (a little more skin than Oli had showed you) but it would be effective. You send it off, biting your lip, and laugh as you get an immediate response back.
Scheiße.
-You like?
Mhm.
-Have some more.
You take another photo of your hair swept back, bra strap falling down your shoulder. To your delight, Oli finally indulges you with a photo back. You nearly moan. He's holding the outline of his cock through those sweatpants, in public.
Have to find a cafe to cool down from the run, he texts.
From the run, you think with a smirk, sure. You wait a few minutes, and get another text from him.
Send another?
This time, you're a little more daring. You send a picture from the side, thumb barely covering your nipple. Five minutes, and you haven't heard anything back. You continue to undress for your shower, figuring he's probably grabbing a shakerato or something and settling in. Then you get a video notification. Eagerly opening it, your breath catches. Oli's got his cock in his hand, stroking slowly. It's filmed from above, so you can see his face as he licks his lips and furtively looks around to make sure no one is watching.
He's still on the beach in the video, and he rocks back and forth from his heels to his toes in the sand. Your pussy clenches as he jerks a little faster, getting a pace going. His eyes close, and that normally stoic face of his screws up a bit. His mouth falls open, and he seems to be mouthing 'bitte' as he tugs his long cock.
Finally, he bites his bottom lip hard and brings the camera down to catch the cum shot, which spills onto his hand and the sand. His deep breathing and groaning suddenly remind you that you're close just from watching the video, and realize you'd started rubbing yourself through your panties. Oli's finger comes up to catch the last few drips of cum, and you feel a short and sweet orgasm wash over you, quickly replaced by a deep yearning to see the bassist again.
You get a picture not long after, interrupting your shock. Oli is looking at the camera over a cup of coffee.
I am at the cafe now. Enjoy?
You type back.
If I could call you right now, you could hear how much I enjoyed.
Ah, yes. The long distance. Expensive.
He sends back a crying face, which you have to laugh at. You take a photo of your fingers slipping down into your panties, and write:
They're drenched, daddy.
Good, he writes back, and you raise your eyebrows. You would have never guessed the quiet man would have such a dirty, dominant side.
All for you.
-I should hope so.
You bite your lip.
Also Schneider.
A pause.
You miss the two of us at once, don't you schatze? Greedy, greedy.
You exhale shakily, and try to steer the conversation back to relatively innocent territory-- you have to save some action for the next time you see the tall bassist.
How is he? You text.
Keeping busy. Out seeing the city, I think. He likes to sightsee with Paul.
Hm. You imagine what Christoph is wearing today. He's got long hair now, and he probably puts it up on hot days. You think about putting your own hair up, then think of the reason for doing it.
I can't wait to taste you, you write back, going straight for the gut punch.
Planning to soon?
-You never know who you'll find in Deutschland ;)
You look over your shoulder, where your plane and concert ticket are to see the boys in Munich next week. You slip your legs beneath you on the bed, sighing coyly. It's going to be hard keeping this one a secret.
There are Rammstein advertisements everywhere. Billboards in Deutsch remind you of the show you're going to, and you understand the language enough to know they're talking about those who you've become particularly acquainted with. It also helps that this is close to their home, (relatively, even though Berlin is much farther north) but even just being in Germany, you can sense the pride and buzzing excitement around the upcoming show. You feed off of these feelings, excited to see them in person again after keeping in touch for so long.
The show is tonight, so you have to get ready. Checking into your hotel, you get into the bathroom and shower, do your makeup, get dressed just how you like, and pull out your phone.
- Where are you?
Oli writes back immediately. Because of this, you know he's bored. Aimlessly playing soccer behind the stadium before the show starts in 4 hours. Why?
-Have a car come pick me up?
His excitement is palpable even through the response you get, and soon, you're in the car sent by the band's security. When you get there, you're issued a complimentary pass by the Theaterkasse, and escorted backstage. Oli grabs you when he sees you, leaning down to bury his face in your shoulder. Leaving a kiss there where no one can see, he pulls back, and introduces you to a few of the roadies wondering what the hell is going on, and who the hell you are.
"A close friend," he introduces you with that stoic smile of his, and you're just fine with that. At this point, the show is getting close to starting.
"Where are the others?" you ask, still a little intimidated being backstage at a huge stadium in a foreign country. Oli cocks his head, and puts you at ease with an arm around your waist.
"Paul went out to greet the Feuerzone, twenty minutes ago. Till is in his trailer with girls, Flake is still getting ready because he leaves everything to the last minute, Richard is on the computer making music, and Schneider is probably tapping away practicing in the artist area."
"Wow," you nod. "Didn't expect such a well estimated answer." Oli cracks a smile.
"We have done this together as brothers and bandmates for a couple of decades now. I think we all know each other's comfortable routines." He looks at the watch on his wrist, comparing it to the giant hanging industrial clock everyone seems to be referencing back here. "I have to go. The cart will be coming, and the others will be coming by car soon to go up on stage." He takes your hands. "I will see you later, yes?"
You smile up at him. "You didn't think I'd come all this way and not put out, did you?" You actually manage to pull a surprised laugh out of the tall man as he bounds away to find his other bandmates.
You get caught up talking to another roadie for a while, the conversation putting you more at ease backstage, until you hear the sound of deep, booming laughter. Turning, you see a golf cart with all 6 of the boys piled onto it. Till is gesturing heartily and shouting in German, and Paul is giggling at whatever he's saying. Ever the perfectionist, Richard is plucking at his guitar strings and making sure the roadies tuned it right, and Flake is bopping his head to imaginary music that only he can hear in his head. That's when the two of you lock eyes.
Schneider looks stunned to see you. His lips part momentarily as he takes you in, before he's ripped away, the cart driving past you. Till gives a little wave, recognizing you, but Christoph can't move. You can only describe that intense gaze he had given you as one blunt, uncouth word that comes to mind: horny.
Though it's hard to do through the distance and front most members of the band on the stage, you make eye contact with Schneider most of the show. Every time he beats that drum, you remember him in the hotel room with you and Oli. Side stage, beer is available by the keg, and you take advantage of it. It's a paradox: the more you drink, the thirstier you become.
Each song plunges you deeper into relative discomfort, constantly rotating your hips as if it would give you some relief. You hadn't been this close to both of them at once since the hottest night of your life, and of course, your body remembers. It's a sexually charged performance tonight no doubt, and they couldn't look more sexy.
Besides the fact that you're itching to feel two pairs of hands all over you, you manage to thoroughly enjoy your favorite band as a whole. A few songs before the end of the show, you feel a hand on your arm. Jolted out of your awe as if it was the first time, you turn to see a security guard waiting for you. He offers his arm to you, and you follow through the dark.
"Oliver will meet you back at the artist zone," the guard informs you, and his stern manner is the direct opposite of the elation you feel. After being shuttled to the zone where the band's trailers are, you're invited in to wait in the grassy area to sit and relax while the boys take their showers in their respective trailers.
"It feels like it has been a long time."
You turn, and find Christoph, dressed in some black slacks without a shirt. He's drying off his chest with a towel still, shoulder length curls soaked. You tear your eyes off of his body and look up into his blue eyes.
"I thought of you," you tell him. A smirk morphs into a chuckle.
"I thought of you too." He runs a hand through his hair. "More than once." Paul walks out of his trailer in a comfortable hoodie and jeans, and looks between you two. Nodding once, he takes a seat on a sofa between you and relaxes back.
"Ahhh. Would anyone like herbal tea and biscuits?"
"Herbal tea?" Christoph laughs. "Have you become so comfortable in your twilight years that you no longer drink?"
"Twilight years?" Paul giggles. "Are you planning to murder me?"
Schneider mutters a "ja, tee danke" and you sit down opposite the two of them. That's when Oli comes out of his own trailer. The sound of Till's private party going on in his own trailer at the end of the zone makes for comfortable background noise as you, Oli and Schneider look at one another. Paul is humming to himself as he busies himself making tea, completely oblivious. Or so you think.
"Hm. I can feel the staring," Paul murmurs, not looking up from his task. "I know I am short, so thankfully, you are staring over me." The three of you barely hear him, Oli slightly adjusting in his seat and shifting his posture. Christoph's breath catches. Your exhale is audible. "Aha," Paul finally speaks, pouring his drink and standing. "Here is the tea, serve yourselves, alles gut, guten nacht. I am going to disappear now. Bye!"
He waves obnoxiously in front of Schneider's face, who finally breaks his stare and bats the arm away in annoyance. A giggle from the little gremlin later, and he's gone back into his trailer to leave you three to your sexual tension. Left alone, Christoph pats both of his thighs, straightening up his back.
"Komm mit. Sit in daddy's lap." Oli watches closely as you get up. Swinging your hips, you climb over the table and give the two men a good view of your ass in shorts as you do, and finally come to sit on Schneider's knee. His left hand comes up to gently stroke up your stomach, cupping your breast from beneath and squeezing. Your head falls back into
"I wanted to do this all show," he whispers in your ear, cutting off into a groan. "I was desperate to feel you, fuck--" He bites his bottom lip, pressing an open kiss to your jaw. "Schatze, I could feel the thrum of the beat down below... when I was seeing you... I... I am..." he takes a deep breath, squeezing your breast again. He's forgetting his English, so you can tell how aroused he is. Oli shifts again, and you notice the heel of his hand digging into his own lap.
"It's okay," you murmur, "You don't have to tell me. Just show me?" You bite your lip. "Please show me how horny I made you, daddy." Schneider bumps you on his knee gently, sliding you back to fit against him. His arms wrap all the way around you this time, and he kisses your cheek in fevered bursts, rocking you down.
"Feel it, little one?"
"Ja," you giggle.
"Such a good girl," Oli says, licking his bottom lip. "I want to see what you've been hiding beneath that shirt."
"You mean these?" you ask, slowly lifting your shirt. Schneider is lost in his own world of touch as you distract Oli with a little strip tease. His eyelids droop as you finally expose all of them, squeezing your full breasts together. Schneider's hands come up to grope them properly, and Oli's chest heaves at the sight.
"Your tits," the bassist nods. "They are amazing. I could see them..." he swallows, his train of thought momentarily derailing, "I could see them bouncing beneath the shirt. I was hoping, when Till asked all the women to lift their shirts..."
"You were hoping I would listen?" you smirk. Schneider growls in your ear, nipping your earlobe.
"No. Till gets enough pussy. You belong to us." Your moan bites through the night air.
"What is going on out there?!" a disgruntled Flake shouts from his corner trailer. "Wie ein gottverdammter Porno! Till fucking in his stupid trailer, you two fucking out here on the couch. Ich kann nicht entkommen!! Scheisse, ficken aus!!"
"I don't think we should do this here," the drummer finally says, following this outburst.
"Nein," Oli breathes out in arousal, rubbing a hand over his head. With a tipsy laugh, you get up, Schneider holding your hand and Oli steadying you from behind. They lead you to one of the large security detail SUVs just outside the zone, and help you in, one on either side of you.
"To my hotel, bitte," Christoph instructs the driver. "More appropriate I think, than the trailer."
"More romantic," Oli nods, "Ja, ja."
"Here you are looking for romance," you tease, laughing, "I'm just out here looking to get fucked." Schneider groans, and grabs something from the minibar. He distributes three small bottles of expensive looking vodka. You all prost, clink your tiny bottles, and down them. This goes straight to your head, just enough to completely clear your inhibitions-- if you possessed any before. Your hands find their laps, and you start to rub one on each side. Oli starts to kiss up your neck, and Christoph puts his hand overtop of yours, guiding you on him.
"Touch daddy's cock," Christoph tells you.
"Little slut," Oli breathes.
"Please, daddy," you moan.
"Which one?" Oli asks.
"I want both of you inside of me."
"Be realistic," Christoph says.
"Why?" you whine.
"We are German, we are realists," he groans, squeezing your hand on his tip.
"Fine. I want you to eat my pussy while Oli's balls deep in me."
"Oh, god," Oli moans.
"You'll get what you want, baby girl," Schneider promises. "I am swearing it."
The driver lets you off in front of a ritzy hotel that you don't pay attention to the name of. You walk in with a man on each arm, heels extending your legs from those tiny denim booty shorts. You can feel eyes on you, but Schneider's jealousy protects all your best features from getting ogled too hard-- he whisks you away into the elevator, Oli slotting himself behind you. You grind back against the taller of the two, Oli's hands coming to rest on your ass as he pulls you back and works you against him.
"What the hell are you waiting for, slut?" Schneider spits. "Get on your knees." You fall down and do as he says, ignoring the pain spreading across your kneecaps. Further scraping them, you inch forward closer to them, and Oli looks at the elevator button.
"We've got 22 floors to go. Hurry up." Hurried but never sloppy, you make use of your remaining motor skills to unzip both at the same time. You dig into Oli's boxers with your right hand, and let out a small gasp when your left hand comes in contact with warm skin. You glance up at Christoph.
"You think I'd wear anything when I know it's going to come off?" he sneers.
"Whatever happened to the art of the tease?" you smile, wiggling your ass a little before you sit back on your feet. He scoffs.
"Forget teasing. Suck my cock." Grinding down, you take him all the way out. Both men are hard in your hands. You make eye contact with Oli as you give him a quick suck, reveling in the feeling of his dick in your mouth again after all this time. You pop off, kitten licking his tip.
"That good, daddy?"
"Daddy likes that," Oli nods, threading his fingers through your hair. "Mm. Less talk. Get back to work." He shoves your mouth back on his cock, and you focus on breathing through your nose as it touches his lower stomach. Christoph grabs your hair and yanks you back over to him, barely giving you time to breathe before jamming his cock down your throat. You try to continue jerking Oli as Schneider works you up and down himself, swearing and grunting.
"Take it," he snaps, "Take it down your throat, yeah? Good little fraulein." He pulls you off to look at you, and your eyes open blearily, lips parted and swollen with a line of saliva connecting you to his wet cock. "Look at her."
"Gorgeous," Oli whispers.
"I want all your cum all over my face," you blurt, dizzy as hell and loving every second, "I wanna be covered in it."
"Stand up," Christoph says, and you realize the elevator has dinged. Looking back in confusion, you find that the elevator has stopped at floor 19. You quickly wobble to your knees, and Schneider is fast enough to tuck himself back in. Oli isn't as fortunate; he resorts to covering his open fly with both hands clasped in front of him as the door opens and an elderly tourist couple get in.
"Excuse me young man," the lady says to Oli. He looks startled that he's being spoken to, but politely meets her eyes-- if not a little desperately.
"Mhmm?"
"Do you know if the restaurant on the top floor is still open?"
Oli stammers for a moment. "I... I think so, ja."
"I told you it was open, Earl," she mutters to her husband, wagging a wrinkled finger in his face, and her husband cups his ear.
"WHAT DID HE SAY, HELEN?!"
"Open! The restaurant is OPEN!" the old woman practically yells.
"WHAT DID YOU SAY, YOUNG MAN?" the old man yells at Oli. Oli stares straight ahead with burning red cheeks, wishing the elevator would drop to the ground floor and put him out of his misery. Schneider puts a hand on the man's shoulder, mimics eating, and gives two thumbs up.
"I TOLD YOU IT WAS OPEN, HELEN!" You stifle a snorted laugh.
Finally floor 22 comes up, and the three of you make your exit. Oli's hands are on you immediately, as Schneider tugs you in for a messy kiss.
"Why can't we do that with your friend Bill?" Helen asks as the doors close.
"WHAT?!"
Schneider fumbles with the key card at the door, slapping it against the pad nearly 5 times before it finally lights up green. You burst into the room, unable to tell whose hands are whose. Articles of clothing come off, go flying, pool at your feet. When you're sure everyone has undressed, the three of you somehow find your way to the shower, a huge stand-up tiled space with glass walls. Oli hoists you up against Christoph, where you wrap your legs around him in front. Schneider rests back against the wall behind you, pressing kisses down the back of your neck. Oli reaches down, and you feel his fingers slip inside of you, filling you up.
"Such a wet little bitch," he muses, and gently prods your lips open, sliding his fingers into your mouth. You dutifully suck them clean, and Oli fucks your mouth with his fingers for a couple of minutes before reaching down to position himself. When he pounds in, Schneider groans behind you. His own cock is trapped between your back and his stomach, and by the way he's rutting, you can tell he's dying to get inside you.
"Tell Oli what a nice cock he has," Schneider growls in your ear. "Say it, slut."
"Your cock is so big," you mumble, eyes rolling back. Oli draws back then pounds back in, starting up a pace.
"I'm going to fill you with my cum," Oli heaves. He fucks deeper, and Schneider wraps one hand around your neck from behind, biting into your shoulder. You cry out, pain mixing with pleasure, and he squeezes his hand a little tighter around your throat.
"Take my cum," Oli groans, finally holding still deep inside you. "Take it--" He crashes his lips into yours as you feel warmth fill you. Schneider lets you go, instantly taking Oli's place once he takes himself out of your sloppy hole. You nearly scream as Schneider begins to fuck into you mercilessly from behind you.
"You like it when daddy fucks you?" he rasps.
"Yeah!"
"Say it. Tell daddy how full you feel." You let out a moan, and he picks up his bruising pace even more, skin slapping against skin filling the shower space. Oli licks a stripe down your chest from in front, taking a nipple into his mouth and suckling.
"I think, it is no use. She's too much of a whore," Oli tells Schneider. "Can only think of getting pounded in that pretty cunt."
"Is that true?" Schneider asks, reaching around to grab your chin. "Hm?" He gives you a sharp slap, and grabs your chin again. "Speak."
"I need to cu--u--um," you whine. "Please!" This earns you another slap, though you're not certain it's for a good or bad reason.
"Pretty little girl. Tell all of Germany who's fucking you, hm? Scream it out!" Oli continues playing with your breasts as you get louder on command, suckling the other nipple now.
"I'm going to fill you up even more," Schneider growls. "You'd like that? Fill your cunt so nice and full, so you can feel our pleasure dripping out of you later."
"Yeah," is all you can say, and reach back to grab onto the drummer.
"Finish like a good girl," Oli encourages you. He holds your other hand as Schneider stills inside you, adding to the mess as you grind down and finish hard. When Schneider slips out, the three of you slide down to lay on the tiled shower floor. Thankfully, it's large enough for all of you to fit in your sweaty heap of afterglow. Oli makes a feeble swipe at the nozzle, and manages to turn it on, bringing hot water cascading down over you. You let it wash away the filth of the night, feeling right at home between the two men who know exactly how to make you scream.
The hotel staff had upgraded Schneider to a king room based on the sole fact that he was touring with a famous band, so three people were easily able to fit.
"I miss the days of sleeping on the tour bus," Schneider mentions off-handedly. His arm is around you, and your hand is resting against his slowly rising and falling chest.
"Mm," Oli agrees. His hand is stroking hair out of your face on the other side of the bed.
"Isn't this more comfortable?" you ask softly. A laugh comes from beside you.
"A little suffering is good for you," Schneider says, and you can't help but feel a rogue thrill of arousal from that. Oli pats his chest, and you switch to rest your head on his. Schneider slots his knee between your legs, and you sigh. Perfect sandwich.
"Can you cum one more time?" Christoph asks, starting to rub his knee up. "For us?"
"Of course she can," Oli purrs. "She missed us so much. She could cum again and again for us, on command."
"Show us."
You whimper, dragging yourself back against Schneider's knee. You can feel the wet patch you're leaving behind, but you have a feeling he loves it. Oli's fingers come down, touching until they find your clit. You suck a breath in, and the oversensitivity catches up with you. Your orgasm washes over you like a short, refreshing wave, but Oli doesn't stop. This launches you into one more orgasm, the best you've ever had, until you're shaking and your head is spinning. The smell of sex hangs heavy in the air, but it's pleasant. It's a reminder of the dirty night you'd had, finally reuniting with your favorite germans.
"How was that, meine fraulein?" Schneider asks.
"Gut?" Oli asks.
"I never want tonight to end," you smile in satisfaction, and Oli kisses your forehead.
"As far as we are concerned, it doesn't have to meine liebe."
Y’all, I have noticed a hole in the Rammstein community: lack of reader-inserts for the boys; namely good fics in that category. I find some on Wattpad, a few on Tumblr, and some on AO3, but I feel like more needs to be added. Just an observation, nothing mandatory in case you feel like I’m coming off that way.
I myself do try to write for existing characters/real people, but I worry that I’m not doing those people justice. Right now, I feel more comfortable posting my own fiction with my own characters, though I do have the occasional OC x Canon ship (in Marvel particularly)
Not saying I won’t post headcanons for my story A Fine Artist (particularly for Werner Künzle) that are reader-inserts, ofc depending on if you like the characters.
