(M4F) Scarlett Johansson: The Red-Carpet Photographer's Lewd Lens on Scarlett's Curves and Kinks (Long-Term)
About Me: I'm a Dane, currently located in the Central European Timezone, though there'll be times when I'm in the Eastern Standard Timezone, even if they're few and far between. I'll always let you know if I'm unavailable for longer periods of time.
English isn't my first language, so you might spot a few grammar mistakes, but I aim for clear, coherent writing. I usually enjoy longer-form roleplay, typically two-three paragraphs in 1st-person, though it depends on the scene.
My posts are primarily written with long-term expectations in mind, but I understand that not everyone has the time, or desire, to write that kind of roleplay. Regardless, I still hope that together we can create something fun, maybe a little crazy and incredibly naughty!
Introduction: My character is a mid-30s freelance photographer named Nick, who's made a name for himself in Hollywood circles by showing up at every goddamn red-carpet event you grace. I've got the credentials to blend in with the press pack, but while the other shutterbugs are chasing generic shots for tabloids, I'm laser-focused on you. Those high-res pics of you strutting in sky-high heels, your perfect feet arched and toes peeking out? Sold to websites for quick cash. But the real gems, the close-ups of your cleavage spilling out of a low-cut gown, the accidental upskirts, the zoom-ins on your plump lips and that knowing smirk? Those are for my private collection. I jerk off to them nightly, imagining burying my face in your soles, licking the sweat from your heels after a long night, or forcing you to pose for even more explicit "sessions."
Over time, I've become "that guy." The one who's always there for your premieres, galas, and award shows. Whispers in the industry call me your "shadow," but I don't care. It's all worth it for those stolen moments of your body on my camera. In this RP, things heat up when you finally notice me and decide to confront (or flirt with?) your biggest fan. What starts as innocent chit-chat spirals into me accidentally exposing my pervy side, leading to you offering me the chance to see the "real thing" up close in private.
Starter: I pull up to the theater, the iconic marquee glowing under the night sky announcing the premiere of your latest blockbuster, a sci-fi thriller with an ensemble cast. The air is thick with anticipation, a mix of expensive perfumes, exhaust from idling limos, and the distant roar of fans cordoned off behind barriers, chanting names and waving signs. Photographers and reporters mill about like sharks in a feeding frenzy, staking out their spots along the velvet-roped red carpet that's stretched out like a tongue, flanked by towering spotlights sweeping the crowd and massive banners of the film's stars, including you, larger than life, your sultry gaze staring down at us all.
I flash my press pass to security and weave through the chaos, my camera bag slung over my shoulder. I've done this dance dozens of times, but it never gets old, the thrill of the hunt, the obsession that pulls me back. I find my usual prime spot near the middle of the press line, close enough to the entrance for those intimate zooms but not so far back that I miss the wide shots. Around me, the rival photogs bark at each other to shift over, publicists herd lesser celebs for quick poses, and there's a faint noise of walkie-talkies coordinating the arrivals. The carpet itself is pristine, a sea of crimson under the glare of floodlights, with step-and-repeat backdrops plastered in sponsor logos. I set up my tripod, check my lenses, and adjust my settings for the low light.
The event kicks off with the early arrivals: supporting actors, a few B-listers strutting their stuff, smiling for the flashes. I snap a few obligatory shots to keep my credentials legit, but I'm biding my time, eyes glued to the limo line. The crowd's energy ramps up with each new star, but I know the real showstopper is coming. And then, there you are, your limo pulling up to the curb, the door opening as you prepare to step out onto the red carpet......
Additional Information: I envision this starting with a slow build on the red carpet, you making your entrance, me obsessively photographing you from afar, capturing those perfect details. As you notice my familiar presence, you'll approach for some light, flirtatious chat that acknowledges my "dedication." From there, it evolves naturally: you ask to see my photos, I accidentally reveal a more intimate one from my stash, sparking that wicked curiosity. You suggest we slip away someplace private, like a nearby green room, or a secluded alley behind the theater, for me to "show you more" or, better yet, for you to give me a glimpse of the "real thing."
The initial encounter could hint at more to come. Maybe we exchange numbers for future sessions, turning this into an ongoing affair with secret hookups at events, private sessions in your hotel room, or even me becoming your personal perv photographer.
Kinks and Limits: I'm generally pretty open when it comes to kinks, but here's my favorites and absolute no-no's.
Anal (ranges from dirty-anal and prolapse to the more "casual" stuff), dirty-talk and name-calling, rough and/or sloppy blowjobs, face-fucking (ranges from the point of puking to the more "casual" stuff), extreme amounts of spit and other kinds of slobber, cum-play (such as cum-farts), foot-play (such as receiving footjobs, worshiping a pair of female feet, and more), general body-worship (open for being the receiver and giver), public-play, watersports (open for being the receiver and giver), physicality (such as slapping, choking and spanking), free-use and ahegao.
My no-no's are pegging, vore, unrealistic sizes, male-on-male, non-con, cuckolding, animals and furry stuff, pregnancy and lactation.
I hope to see you on KIK: LyingLimaBean. Thanks for reading! :-)
I am 18+ and all characters and participants are 18+
Posted Mar 8, 2026, 6:00 PM UTC