#hes so fucking stupid and old and he wears those stupid fucked up little v neck cardigans. and hes even BALD.

[palanaeum]

Picard PICAAARD PICARD.

#OK MAYBE I AM A GUY AND I HAVE GUY TRAUMA OKAY MAYBE I HAVE FRATERNAL TRAUMA OK WHAT IF IT'S OKAY #*90s horror movie tough-but-sensitiveguy voice* maybe bros. can be a little sad. s.ometimes . #hes so fucking stupid and old and he wears those stupid fucked up little v neck cardigans. and hes even BALD. #like literally fuck him fr 😭 #king lear claidius hamlet sr horatio WHATEVERRR OLD MAN 😭😭😭 #insane. #maybe guys can have public hysterical meltdowns too 💀 #op #passing thought #yyep boys this one aint going in tha tag

[argreion]

Respect Your Elders.

A/N: Changed my thought mid writing about sleepy sex with Leon so now we just go basic. FUSSY TIRED MAN DIDN'T LIKE BEING CALLED OLD! Transitition from cuddle to sex might be a little weird but EEEEEE! Got really fuckin' invested in writing smut and giving another go. Feel better about this one, ngl. I'm not sorry for this, I literally sat down for like an actual hour so immersed in writng this. ALSO, FUCKING SAW ONE MISTAKE AND I CAN'T FIND IT. So, possibly might have a few mistakes here and there.

Warnings: Just Sex with Leon, so P in V! Breeding kink. Breathplay. Cunnilingus! Small bits of degradation near the end. A little spit exchange too. DI Leon in mind but you can pick and choose! AFAB reader too, btw. All I can say is... Slutty Leon Kennedy :3

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcomed!

Let's be honest, being with Leon wasn't easy. Constantly reminding the poor man to not squint, to take his medication, and to even shave. Watching him pass out on the couch, bed, and even on the floor! Sadly, you can't carry a man that's heavy and full of muscle!

At least he passed out on the bed, and you slowly following afterward…

“Baby, c'mere, it's cuddle time.” He would say in that oh-so lovely voice. Made the girls scream mentally whenever he was just nice. All they could see was the pretty man, unknowingly batting his eyelashes to everyone around him. That pretty smile, too. 

Leon's arm wrapped around you, and chest against your back. Gently squeezing your torso, muscles tensing and relaxing with each squeeze. The T-shirt you wore from him, stolen from his closet. He liked when you did that, made him hard. When you would bend over the kitchen counter and possibly wear his boxers? Old man got a poor boner, daddy is a little horny, baby.

“You're heavy.” You whined, not that you'd admit you liked it. I mean, you loved Leon. He loved you. It was just how the things with you two. Liked the heaviness, the stupidity, the stress, you liked the attention of a broken man picking up his pieces. 

“Mmmm, heavy? The only thing heavy here is your ass.” A snort came from him as he said it. Yeah, he liked ass. Always did a smack-by whenever you walked past him. Especially when you were in the kitchen. Made his little domestic mindset bust a nut, literally.

His stubble brushed into your neck, with the purr of delight that he captured a beauty. Wrapping his other arm around you, under the side of your waist. Uncomfortably pushing into your side.

“So pretty, like an angel, baby. God must've been here to send you from the heavens. Must've hurt when you fell. Could've caught ya.” Oh, those sweet words he would always say. You knew he meant them, of course he did. If you had to say, it was a little depressing. Something just about the way he moved, spoke, and acted made your heart ache. It was probably the drinking he did, albeit it was better than a year ago.

“Don't think God sent me from the sky, Leon.” You responded with, head buried in those satin pillowcases. They felt nice on your skin, and nicer to grab when you got fucked.

“Would've broke a bone, and plus, I doubt you could catch me, old man.”

Oh, you poor poor soul. Don't call him old! He might cry, see, he's crying from his dick! Little slut, he liked that. Go ahead, weep a little more, baby boy! Also, the fact you just called him an old man to his face? Pfft, you're so on.

“I'm not that old, c'mon.”

He grunted, huffing into your neck like an angry toddler when they didn't get to snack on their favorite dino nuggets. Exaggerated heavily, and his grip tightened to push the point, he didn't like that.

“Ever heard the term respect your elders, little kid?” Leon asked, a threat hiding beneath it. Knowing the way he is, you have three seconds before he pins you to the bed and makes you squirt.

Already knowing what was going to happen, you made a lazy attempt to get out the 'terrifying' grasp of this old man. Moving to slide off the bed, but that didn't work.

His hand grabbed your shoulder, screaming this is your fault. You made me do this, and he wasn't going to be sorry at all. Pulling you back into the bed, head pushed into the pillow. Eyes staring wide up at him as he pinned you to the bed. Brows furrowed and face determined to prove otherwise. Hands pushing you into the bed by your shoulders. Yet gentle enough to not leave a bruise. That made your thighs clench, so cute.

“This old man still got it, baby doll. You really wanna play this game? I'll play it, too.” He'll play this game dirty, naughty, sexy.

Leon leaned forward, gently capturing your lips in a kiss. Passionately and slowly making out with you. Twirling your tongues around like it was his day-job. Maybe it was, seeing how he eats pussy so fucking good. Trying to ignite that burning passion he always liked. On the kitchen counter, his motorcycle, the car, work, the list went on and on. Hand trailing lower and lower as he occupied your mind. Tongue occupying your mouth. Expensive cologne pungent off his body, surrounding you in him.

Your whines being muffled from the kiss, making the old man pull away. That damning cocky smirk on his face as he taunted you,

“Oh, sorry, I didn't hear you. Speak louder, honey.”

A moan came from your lips as he pinched your clit. Making you claw at the pillows beneath your head. Hand slapping your cloth panties. Electricity running up your spine to your head.

“Fuck, d-daddy!” You choked out, watching as he teased and toyed you. He just had to fuck around with you. Put the young one in his place, like a rookie at work, the karens at stores. Leaning to your ear

“She's so needy, babydoll. Need your old man to make it better? But you probably don't like an old man, hm? Rubbing his fingers over your folds and clit.”

He hissed into your ear, nibbling on the edge. Pulling away to look down at those cute cotton panties. He always ruined them, sniffed them, came in them. His panties, too. Always will be his panties. Moving to move those panties aside, tugging them to reveal that glistening feast. Sopping wet for him to bury into. Like the breakfast at IHOP or McDonald's he would get. Devoured in mere minutes.

Leon positioned himself between your thighs, nose buried in your folds. Sniffing the sweet scent it emitted. That slightly tangy taste it had as well. He breathed it in like his last breath. The last meal he would have before death row. Being executed for serving his country too well, and serving your cunt, as well.

“Could get used to this any day. Wish my job was as easy as sitting down and eating this precious purr-ty pussy. Mewing for some milk, like always.” He purred, staring at you through his eyes lashes.

“P-purr-ty? What the fuck doe— AH!”

His tongue buried into you, licking up, down, left, and right. Coming up every once in a while to suck your clit. Make him drown in that pussy, baby. He needs it, he needs it like God. Make him get on his knees and pray.

“Didn't say you could talk, baby. Maybe you need a lesson on listening, again.” He tutted, sucking on your nub, again. Making your toes curl and hands clench again. Too good at this, imagine how many moms or younger girls would want this. Those twenty-year-old college girls wanting a middle-aged guy between their thighs. Mmmm, made you wet just thinking about how he's yours.

Tongue swirling, your hips bucking, and hand now buried in his locks. Threatening to pull his hair out. You pressed into his face, in which he pressed back. Drown him, suffocate him, make him die, honey.

Your legs tensed as you neared that high. C'mon, keep going! “I'm gonna— I'm gonna!—”

Selfishly, he pulled away. Wet dripping down his nose to his stubble. Looking at deranged as he looked up, sitting up. Hands fumbling with his shirt as he rushed to fuck into you. He wanted it. No, he needed it. Needed to be buried in that fat fucking pussy. Make it drip with his cum, eat it out, and impregnate it if he could. Wanted to see you leak breastmilk and be full of him.

“Not yet, I didn't say you could. Little slut.”

Noticing the change of pace, you reached out, only to be met with him yanking you. Stomach pressed into the bed, and head pulled back. His free hand tugging his jeans and boxers down. Fuck, he was hard. Harder than steel. His bicep wrapped around your throat, and his nose buried in your hair. Pants of exhaustion coming from him. He got so tired easily, old man in his heart.

Harshly, his hips thrusted against yours. Not even being enough of a gentleman to give a warning shot. No head against your little hole, fully sheathed in. The groan that came from his lips could've made you cum on the spot.

“Oh fuck…”

The claps followed afterward, body moving up and down with his rhythm. Ass moving at the rhythm, as well. Your fingers digging into his arm as he tightened the headlock. Enough to make it pleasing enough, your eyes rolled back. Mouth agape as you sprouted out moans and small noises. Squishy wet sounds following after his thrusts. 

Leon looked down at you, a toothy smile on his face. Always what he wanted, that fucked out look. So sweet, like an angel. Should've gotten his phone, but he was too enthralled in this now. That pretty little mouth needed a little love. So, he pulled your head back more. A small pained moan coming from your lips.

“Need a little loving from daddy, huh? Need daddy to fill this fuckin' cunt with his kids. Wanna stay in this bed full of 'em? Such a good slut, baby. Fuck the Redfield bloodline, Kennedy bloodline is gonna be bigger and stronger than that fuckin' boulder.”

Leon spat straight into your mouth, making you clench. Hitting the back of your throat. It tasted so disgusting, but it was hot. Alongside the few drops of spit, he let drip so slowly into your mouth. The wait was killing you!

“Swallow daddy, baby. Better than Gordon Ramsay, too. With this pussy, you put him to shame.”

Who couldn't obey a man like him? Strong government agent who kills for a living. Wouldn't want to anger daddy, would you? So, you swallowed. Right down your throat, and it made you gag a little. Couldn't say you hated it, it would just make him concerned. He was a softie deep down, always stopping whenever your face changed slightly. Got annoying when you literally just wanted to cum! Like, shut up, and just FUCK ME!

"S'close. Gonna cum for you! Wan' cum!” You whined, moaning pitifully. Ass raised against his pelvis. Balls slapping against your lower half. How would you explain to your parents you're a little cock sleeve to a government agent? I mean, at least it pays in a free apartment, car, and food! Plus whatever you counted Leon as.

“Really baby? That drunk off me? Mmmm, we love to hear that. Let daddy do it for you.” He whispered, voice still like honeyed whiskey.

Hips picking up its pace as it abused your cunt wider and wider. Only for him, and always open for him. Bringing him to the tip of the iceberg as he came inside you. Hips pushing against yours fully, and his tip at your cervix. He panted, burying his face in your neck. Those words, the pace, and his arm. You came on the spot, leaking down his cock and balls. Hands wanting to rip those sheets in front of you. Balled the fabric into your fist. Dripping onto the sheets below.

“Post nut clarity, damn.” Leon chuckled. Arm falling from around your neck. Bringing it down to interlace your fingers. “You good? I didn't, like, y'know? I'm not the best with words, c'mon.”

Mmmmm, body already responding as he gently pulsed around him. Head nodding in response to his query.

“Mhm, happy. Happy you actually didn't worry!”

You smiled, resting your head in your arms as he slowly moved off of you. Not pulling out, of course. He wouldn't do that just yet, gotta keep the package warm.

“Still an old man, by the way.”

His brows furrowed, sighing in defeat. You were supposed to say you learned your lesson! Regardless, he loved you, even if you were very stubborn.

“You're lucky you're cute…” He muttered, kissing your temple. Those very arms from earlier coming to wrap around you again. His chin propped on top of your head. Seemingly pleased he did a good job. Both of you leaking out onto the bed. Would have to clean that up later…

“You're lucky I like old men, Mr. Kennedy.”

He hummed, closing his eyes. A smile plastered on his lips.

“Think this old man needs a nap, honeybun.”

No, Leon DON—! And he fell asleep, right on top of you… In mere fucking seconds. The sex was a 10/10, but the napping part? Wouldn't recommend.

"Dammit..."

Honestly, you gave up right about now. You'll deal with it later, like you always did. Right now, maybe it was about time for a nap. Even if he was heavy, it was a free blanket. Another cuddle, another round of love-making, and a horrible nap?

You'd always do this again and again.

#leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil smut

[auteurdelabre]

A Little Sun Part 3.1 - Dieter!Bravo x f!Reader

part one / part two

rating: 18+ (MINORS GET OUTTA HERE OR I'M TELLIN' YOUR MAMAS)

Story Summary: As a PA to megastar and mega man-child Dieter Bravo you've had your fair share of headaches. Getting accidentally pregnant with his baby however takes the cake, especially when he offers to pay you to be his surrogate. You just weren't expecting to fall in love with him along the way.

tags: Surrogacy, Pregnancy, Body changes re: pregnancy, Mutual Pining, Idiots in love, P in V, Dirty talk, Unprotected Sex, Romance, Oral (f receiving), Cigarettes, Drugs, Mentions of Parental Death, Vulnerable Dieter, Vulnerable Reader.

a/n: y'all I'm really annoyed because tumblr won't let me post the entire chapter in one post because of whatever reason. So if you wanna read it all in one go, I'm posting it to my A03.

dividers by @silkholland

A LITTLE SUN

You burst into the house, kicking off your shoes and throwing your purse down onto the couch. Dieter looks up from his place on the chaise longue by the fireplace. 

"What?"

"Some old guy in the coffee shop overheard I was pregnant and he told me that I shouldn't drink decaf coffee and then he touched my fucking stomach."

"What?" Dieter is immediately on his feet, fists curling. A strange feeling has passed over him, this protective and strangely possessive feeling. You're his. You're carrying his baby. 

"Yeah and I was in such shock that I just let him. I fucking hate this," you say pressing your lips together tightly as you exhale through your nose. "As soon as your pregnant people suddenly feel like they have the right to touch you and give you unsolicited advice. It's so gross."

"I'm sorry," Dieter says, fighting the urge to touch your stomach himself. 

It's barely even three months and you're not showing. He hasn't actually touched you anywhere other than your hand since that first time he cradled your stomach. 

You see the way his dark eyes dart from your stomach to your face and back again. Can see the twitching in his fingertips as he thinks about it. 

"You can touch it," you tell him. "You won't feel anything but you can touch it."

Dieter is immediately at your side, his wide hand going to your belly. You'd expected him to go over the shirt so when his hand slides up your t-shirt to rest over your bare skin you're surprised.

You go to say something but you still when you see his face. His eyes are closed, brows saddled in concentration. It's impossibly sweet. And there's something comforting about his warm palm on your skin, a feeling you can't quite place. 

"Wish I could feel him moving."

"Won't be for a few months yet," you tell him. 

Dieter gives a thoughtful hum in response. His thumb slowly drags across your skin and you feel your breathing hitch for a moment. Up close you see the length of his dark lashes, the fullness of his mouth. Has he always been this handsome? Or is it the hormones? 

You pull his hand from under your shirt. "Okay that's enough." 

“I said I am.”

“I never see you with it.”

“Jesus, Dieter! Do you want me to pull it out of my room?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.”

You storm into your bedroom, grabbing the yellow object from beside your bed and bringing it back into the living room where your boss/surrogate benefactor is waiting with his arms crossed.

“I told you, I put it on my belly every night. The baby hears your fucking Bravo mix tape every goddam night.”

“Every single night?” Dieter says disbelief. “What about Friday? You came home super late from that PA after works drink thing.”

“Dieter it was eleven when I got in,” you say rolling your eyes. “Besides, I don’t think the baby will suffer if it misses one or two-“

“I KNEW IT!” Dieter shouts animatedly. “You did skip a few days!”

In all honesty you’ve skipped plenty of days. Wearing those stupid fucking headphones over your belly is uncomfortable and boring as shit. You always read when you wear them because sleeping on your back is something you want to save for when you have no other choice. But lately you’ve been more tired and reading has been swapped for more sleeping.

Dieter looks beside himself as he begins pacing up and down the hallway, muttering to himself about being lied to. You recognize the signs almost immediately, shocked you overlooked them so easily before. Dieter is anxious. While most curl into or sequester themselves away, Dieter has always been a ball of anxiety that lashes out, fixating on everything other than himself.

“Dieter.”

“What?”

“What are you anxious about?”

Dieter pauses, face contorted into a defensive pose, lower lip stuck out. You almost hear his petulant: I’m not anxious. But the longer he stares at you the longer he realizes that you know him better than most. He just shakes his head, unable to formulate what has his insides doing a tap dance.

 “I know something’s wrong,” you tell him as you shuffle over to him and he’s relieved and thankful to see there’s no animosity there in the depth of your eyes. Without thinking you reach out and take one of his hands in yours and he notes your palm is freezing.

“Nothing,” he mutters to himself. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

He sees the hurt pass over your face for a fraction for a second and he’s quick to clasp your hand tightly. “Is that okay?”

“Of course,” you say, retracting your hand.  “Why don’t you go in the studio and paint for a bit? Enjoy your day off.”

Dieter nods, padding off to his workspace while you give a sigh. You can tell something is up with him, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. It makes you ache for him in a way, knowing that he’s holding something so close to the chest. Normally he tells you everything.

By four months you need to fuck something.

Toys aren't cutting it. You need a good fucking. You’ve decided that Josh will be a nice choice. You two have been fooling around a bit on set when you’re not being ordered around by Dieter who suddenly seems to need you every second you’re there.

So far it’s all over the pants stuff with Josh; mostly because you’re paranoid he’ll see your bare stomach and declare you pregnant. You don’t know why this concerns you, you don’t even look pregnant. Maybe a slightly swollen quality, but only you or Dieter (or your Mom!) would know the difference.

He doesn’t like you hanging around Josh and you can only assume it’s because Dieter doesn’t like to share his toys. You’re having his baby and so in his mind he gets to dictate everything. It’s fucking driving you insane.

You decide to approach Dieter about it directly, not wanting to bother the lawyer with this sort of thing. It seems embarrassing to have to go about it in this fashion, almost as if you have to ask permission for something quite personal. But this scenario is  new and you’re not exactly what’s within the realm of appropriate.

You find him painting in one of the rooms, cigarette hanging out of his mouth as he listens to some strange grunge band from Japan. You lower the volume as you enter. 

"Can we talk?"

Dieter turns, brows raised. "What's up?"

You look nervous, face warm and your fingers nervously drumming at your side. 

"Dieter, we uh, we never talked about one thing in the contract."

Dieter lowers the paintbrush, going to the sink to wash his hands as he waits for you to continue. 

"What's that?'

Fuck you feel awkward about this. How do you mention to your boss that you wanna go get laid? Your cheeks are heating and you nudge your toe absently against the doorframe.

"Uh, if it was okay if I wanted to go out with someone?"

"You want to date someone?" Dieter looks horrified, the cigarette dropping from his gaped mouth onto the floor. He retrieves it quickly, tossing it into the sink behind him before turning back to fix you with a glare. "I've known you for two years and you've gone on maybe three dates in all that time. Now you're pregnant and suddenly you want a boyfriend?"

"Not a boyfriend," you say quietly. "Just uh... a…"

"A hook-up?"

"Yeah."

"No fucking way!" Dieter insists much too forcefully for a man who tries to continually convince himself that he doesn’t want to fuck you himself. "Too dangerous! You could end up with a creep! What about the baby?!"

You roll your eyes. "Obviously I would be careful."

"No," Dieter shakes his head. "Too risky. What if they find out you work for me and ransom you?"

“It’s some-“ you stop yourself from giving too much away. “It’s not risky. I feel safe about it.”

“Well I don’t.”

A stand off about who you can fuck. Is this a joke?

"Dieter I'm really just giving you a heads up as a courtesy," you say icily. "You don’t control what goes in my vagina.”

Dieter blinks back his surprise a moment. You’ve never spoken to him like that. He can only assume that this is pregnancy hormones so he lets it slide. However, he’s still irritated about that annoying Josh hanging all over you. You turn to walk away from him.

"Well then as your boss," Dieter bites back, "I'm telling you that you can't fuck your little PA friend."

You stop your walking, turning to face him with a face contorted in rage.

"What?"

"You think I'm blind?" Dieter scoffs as he lights a fresh cigarette. "You think I don’t see you and that PA Josh making eyes at each other?”

You hate how he says PA, like Josh is pathetic for having the very job you yourself have. Not shocking – has Dieter ever really seen you as more than an extension of himself? More than the woman who plans his days and picks up his dry cleaning? Never.

"Dieter who else is there? He's the only single, straight guy near my age in this town!”

Dieter just stares at you, the end of his cigarette a red flare in the semi darkness. You throw up your hands in irritation, giving a growl and walking into your bedroom, slamming the door behind you.

///

BabiEDucate

15 weeks

Cravings: DICK. Also pickles - Related?

Missing: SEX. GETTING FUCKED.

You try not to let the sex thing override the rest of your enjoyment of this beautiful land. Ireland is stunning from the moment you wake up until you go to bed. You’ve met the nicest people on set, you and the makeup girls go to the pub every Friday. You always order for the group and you always lie and say you’re having a rum and coke, but it’s really just a coke.

You think about inviting Josh over here tonight. So far it's been frantic kissing against pub walls and one remarkably disappointing phone sex experience that left you more frustrated than anything.

You're just so paranoid he's going to be able to tell you're pregnant that you've been holding back.

Plus there’s the whole Dieter thing.

“Mia and Dieter are working on a night scene tomorrow night,” Josh murmurs to you as you hang to the side one afternoon on set. You’re both hidden away from the actors who had broken for lunch. “Should give us plenty of time if we want to hang out.”

“Hang out?” you say with a flirtatious smirk up at him. “Is that what the kids are calling it?”

“Fucking your brains out then?” Josh huffs against your ear as goosebumps rise along your neck.

“Sounds great,” you nod.

“Let’s go to yours,” Josh suggests. “Mia and the crew are at some fancy hotel and they’ve all got big mouths. Dieter’s the big movie star with his own rental.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow at seven.”

///

Everything you own is ugly.

Plus you have a headache. Plus you look bloated and your tits fucking ache. You pull at the tights and cute babydoll dress you threw on hours ago because it was the only thing you owned that sort of hides the growing expansion of your midsection and isn’t sweatpants. You look at yourself in the bathroom mirror, applying some lip-gloss before sighing.

All this work just to get laid.

You look down at your stomach, frowning as you mutter quietly. “You’re already a pain in the ass and you’re barely bigger than a bell pepper.”

You give a roll of your eyes at yourself in the mirror before flicking off the lights and heading back out to the kitchen. Josh sits there with a beer giving you an expectant smile as you approach.

Dinner was nice enough (he brought thai food), the conversation free-flowing. You told Josh you didn’t want to drink since you had a bit of a migraine. Not a total lie. He brought you flowers, which is incredibly kind and also annoying because you’ll have to hide them in your room lest Dieter see them.

But you don’t want flowers and wine and seduction. You thought you’d already laid the groundwork for that. But here Josh is trying to ask questions about your family and life back home and all you can think about is the minutes ticking by where you’re not getting fucked.

“Let’s move to the couch,” you suggest casually. “I think I have a documentary on sharks recorded.”

“Yeah, lets,” Josh says smiling eagerly.

There we go.

Within minutes the two of you are on the couch making out. Josh has one leg between yours, his hands on either side of your face. He’s muttering something about how good you feel but you’re distracted, concerned that he can feel your stomach.

You wonder if you could suggest doggy style. That's the only position you think could work where he wouldn't see your stomach. You thought about passing it off as a food baby, but you don't want to take the chance.

He urges your hand to keep palming him through his jeans as he kisses you. He tastes like the wine he brought and the mints Dieter leaves laying around everywhere. Your hand goes there, feeling his length and sighing. You can’t wait to feel him inside you.

“You want daddy to give you more?” Josh hums against your lips before his tongue invades your mouth.

Daddy? Ugh. Mood killer.

"You gonna-"

Whatever Josh was about to say dies on his tongue as the door to the cottage opens. Dieter’s head swings around just in time to see Josh's hand covering yours on the vee of his jeans, your bodies practically melded together.

"Get out," Dieter barks, his eyes wild. He literally races over to you both on the couch, glowering over Josh like an overprotective father.  “Get away from her.”

Josh pulls away from you instantly, his entire face blanching. You reach for Josh as he stands abruptly. He's all mumbling apologies, pulling on his jacket and brushing past a very confused Mia who has just come in.

"What the fuck?" You say struggling to a stand. Your belly makes you go off kilter and you shake off Dieter's hand as he steadies you.

"What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking it was my night off and I wanted to enjoy it!" You explain angrily. "And you just chased off my date!"

"Your date?" Dieter looks beside himself with agitation. "Since when? We had an agreement!"

“Agreement? You mean order!”

You throw your hands up, wanting to punch Dieter squarely in the jaw. Instead you simply shake your head and shoulder past him to go to your bedroom.  He tries calling your name but you ignore him, slamming the bedroom door behind you.

Mia watches this scene, her large eyes curious. "Dieter what am I missing here?"

"Huh?" Dieter whirls around in a spin. "Nothing."

"Then why did you just scare off my assistant?"

"Because I …He … She’s not..." Dieter waves his hand in the air, trying to explain himself. "I don't want my assistant fucking around with yours."

"Why?"

"It's not professional," Dieter insists, his face gloomy. "What if it got back to set?"

"I don't think they'd care," Mia laughs softly. "Are you just perhaps a bit overprotective of her?"

"Yes."

"Because of the baby?"

"Because- wait, what?"

Mia brings her jacket off her shoulders, hanging it up. "I'm a woman, Dieter. I have sisters. I know a pregnant woman when I see it."

Dieter pauses, considering what to say. He recalls Diane's instructions before you left for Ireland.

"Yeah she's pregnant. She's religious so she's keeping it but she doesn't want anyone to know," Dieter explains.

"Oh," Mia nods.

"I just don't want her hurt." Dieter tries to look sorrowful. "I've known her for a while and yeah, I guess I don't want anyone messing with her. I don't really know Josh or his intentions. I don’t want things to get messy."

"I totally get it," Mia says placing a hand to his forearm. "That's so sweet of you to care about your staff like that."

Dieter shrugs, smiling softly.

"I'll tell Josh to back off," Mia promises.

"Thanks," Dieter says warmly. "I'd appreciate that."

“You still wanna practice those lines for tomorrow?” Mia asks gently, her eyes warm as she glances at the bottle of wine Josh brought. “I see they left some wine.”

“Yeah,” Dieter smiles. “That sounds perfect.”

Josh isn't returning your calls anymore. When you see him on set he's totally polite but there's no more flirting, no more stolen kisses. You figure after the embarrassment of the other evening he’s steering clear of getting caught up in that mess. You can’t blame him. But you miss the attention, you miss the thrill.

In a few short months you won’t be able to hide that you’re pregnant and then after you give birth you’ll need months for recovery before you’re willing to put yourself back out on the dating scene.

Not that you were that big on the dating scene to begin with. If it wasn’t school it was working for Dieter. You had a few flings, a few whirlwind romances that left your body sated but your mind craving more. You try touching yourself in the bath or in the shower, in your bed. Nothing is working. There’s something primal about another person touching you that your hormones are craving.

You and Dieter haven’t spoken about that night with Josh since it happened. You had no desire to rehash the humiliation and in all honesty, you were wrong to do it here in a home that is more Dieter’s than it is yours. You should have gone to Josh’s if you wanted privacy, but you’d been so horny you hadn’t realized that. 

You’re still dutiful in his scheduling and a week later the two of you are heading into Dublin so Dieter can have an on-air interview with a popular Irish radio personality. He’s nervous about it, tapping his fingers along his bouncing knee in the back of the limo they sent.

“So steer clear of politics obviously,” you say as you tap onto the tablet reading the notes Diane sent. “Diane says that she’ll be out here next week to go over your interview strategies for Graham Norton. Apparently you’re flying over there for an overnight.”

“I assume you’ll be hanging back for that,” Dieter says flatly.

“Yeah, you don’t need both me and Diane for that one.”

Dieter doesn’t know why but the thought of you fucking Josh is stuck in his brain. Someone Dieter has seen you growing closer to during your time here in Ireland when your attention should be on him.  He’s Dieter Bravo – He’s rich, famous, an Oscar winner, the father of the baby you carry! What the fuck makes Josh worth your attention? Dieter sees the secret smiles when Josh texts you, sees you distracted on set. It fucking infuriates him.

 “Gives you a whole two days to fuck your little PA friend while I’m gone.”

Dieter is shooting you an open sneer and you feel your entire body heating up. That’s it. You’ve tried to be civil and even apologetic but this is getting ridiculous. You throw the tablet on the car seat between the two of you, your nostrils flaring.

“You don’t get to tell me who I go to bed with,” you growl, noting the way Dieter’s eyes widen in surprise at your tone. “I'm tired you thinking you control everything about me because I happen to be carrying your kid.”

You glance up belatedly hoping that the driver can’t hear you through the plastic divider separating the front from the back of the vehicle before your eyes are back on the increasingly red-faced Dieter.

“I’m my own person, Dieter. And yes, I will carry this child, and yes I will do so with love and care. But as for whom I fuck? That’s not your business.”

You don’t bother telling him that Josh is off the table. That you heard yesterday that he’s started seeing some girl from costumes. You don’t bother telling Dieter that there’s no one in the quiet hamlet that you actually want to fuck. He doesn’t need to know that.

Dieter continues to stare at you, shocked at the vitriol coming from you. He’s seen you irritated and even angry, but right now you seem borderline frenzied. Your cheeks are red and your eyes are bright and you’re almost snarling.

He’s turned on out of his mind.

He crosses his legs to hide his growing length, clearing his throat and praying you don’t notice the flush rising to his cheeks.

You throw yourself back into your seat, eyes out the window. You’re breathing quickly, still furious about all of this. You wish there was another man on set that you’d like to have take you to bed but there’s no attraction for anyone else. Josh was the only one who appealed to you and without him your only solution is the men down at the pub (all pensioners or gay) or your own fingers which really don’t do the job.

Dieter watches you, struck by his own increasing insecurity. He’d rather you fuck anyone else here. Someone whose texts don’t make you smile down at your phone. Someone who doesn’t distract you during movie nights with Dieter. A nobody.

"I know that what I'm asking might sound unfair," Dieter finally offers quietly. "So I'll pay someone. Someone reputable and clean from one of the services here."

It takes you a moment to realize what he's offering and when you do you turn to face him, outraged. 

"I'm not sleeping with an escort! I’ve never paid for sex I’m not about to start now.” 

"Fine,” Dieter shrugs. “I'll get you whatever toy you want."

"I have toys. Toys aren't doing the job," you admit with a sigh before your face flushes at the admittance. You don't tell him that you've worn out the batteries beyond charging on all. That the toys aren’t what you crave. It’s the touch of a man, his heartbeat under your palm, the sweaty tangled mess under sheets that your body craves.

But Dieter doesn’t understand this; he’s still trying to come up with a solution to your problem that won’t make him feel like shit.

"Then I'll-"

"I need sex, Dieter!" You interrupt in frustration. "All these fucking hormones are making me so... I-I just need a cock to come on!”

The minute the words escape you Dieter’s already dark eyes seem to turn black. He slowly inches over to you in that bouncing, jerky way of his, crawling over the seat until he reaches your. You don't know what he's doing, but you don't stop him when his hand comes to the curve of your belly. 

You hold in a whimper at the sensation of his warm palm through the fabric of your shirt. His hands are wide but you've never noticed just how big they are. His head tilts forth, his forehead gently pressing against yours. Your eyes flutter to focus on his full mouth. 

"You're taking care of my baby," Dieter offers in a husky whisper. "So I'll take care of you."

His free hand slowly moves to wrap around the back of your neck, barely touching you. 

"That's a terrible idea," you breathe, your voice holding no conviction. 

"We did it before," Dieter reasons. 

"We don't even remember it."

"So let's make a memory," Dieter murmurs, his eyes on your mouth now. 

“We’re here Mister Bravo,” comes the voice of the driver from the front of the town car.

Fuck.

The ride back from the radio interview is tense. Dieter managed to be professional, even charming with the hosts. And while he did that you managed to get a few emails checked, interviews organized and wardrobe fittings scheduled.

But the promise of what he started in the limo only hours before weighs heavily on you both. You feel it’s massively inappropriate given that he’s your boss. He’s paranoid he’s overstepped and scared you off so he doesn’t want to make another move.

So the two of you look out opposite windows, studiously ignoring one another until you return back to the rental. Dieter practically flings himself from the limo, tossing a wave at the driver over his shoulder as you roll your eyes and follow him inside.

The house is quiet, the light of the day dimming. You’re too tired for a walk today so you quickly shower and pull on your softest sleep shorts and t-shirt. You pull on your fuzzy robe and slippers and pad out to the kitchen to make yourself a tea. Dieter is already there boiling the water, his hair damp from his own shower. The two of you exchange tight smiles before you go over to the television, switching it on.

“I think there’s a doc about Patagonia,” Dieter calls over to you. “Wanna watch it together?”

“Sure.”

You hate that the thought of it makes your heart jump. The man that is usually so annoying to you is suddenly so fucking enticing you want to jump him right now. You want to fist your hand through his damp curls and ride him until he’s whimpering.

Fucking hormones.

You wonder if Dieter is good in bed. You've heard plenty of thankful refrains from his closed bedroom door but that might just be to stroke his ego.

You don’t remember your time with him and so the only context you have is when you walked in on him when you thought he was alone and you were desperate to go over some of the errands he had asked of you earlier in the week.What you'd found was Dieter lying in bed, one arm behind his head as a lithe blonde man with a scruffy beard went down on him. Dieters hand was carding through the man's hair, pulling his mouth further along his impressive cock. 

"That's right," Dieter murmured, eyes closed. "Take it all like a good boy. Swallow it down."

You'd quickly closed the door shut, the man's moans echoing behind you thankful you'd not been seen. For some reason that image had stayed with you since then. You don't know if it's because it was two men or because Dieter was so commanding or because it was something you weren't supposed to see. 

But when you think of Dieter and fucking him, it's this memory that floods your senses... And your panties. Like right now as you sit next to him trying to ignore the proximity of his body to yours.

“Want popcorn?”

“Nah, I’m okay.”

“Tea?”

“No I’m fine. Do you want tea?”

“No, I’m good.”

It’s like a middle school dance. The two of you sitting stiffly next to each other, both pretending to ignore the obvious desire there, both too scared of what will happen next. You’re desperate to focus on Patagonia but you can’t. Your boss smells so good and looks so good and he’s rolled up his sleeves so his forearms are bare and his hands are so fucking big. You imagine them everywhere on your body before you force yourself to find a distraction.

“I never asked you about your tattoos,” you say as your eyes runs over the inky triangle closest to you on his forearm. “Why triangles?”

“I guess I really like pizza,” Dieter smirks.

And suddenly all the tension is gone from the moment, replaced with the familiarity of his humor. You let your head tilt back as you let out a guffaw, pushing his arm affectionately. He swings it around your shoulders as he watches your eyes crinkling as you laugh loudly, feeling his chest swell. He loves it when he can make you laugh like that; unguarded.

And in that moment he knows he wants more. He wants to make you feel good. He wants to feel you and be able to remember it the next day.

As you wipe amused tears from your eyes you feel Dieter leaning towards you, his hand on your shoulder, tilting you in his direction ever so slightly.

You don’t pull away.

In fact you let the giggles ebb, but you don’t move from his nearness. Your faces are so close he can feel your warm breath huffing over his parted mouth. You smell like soap from the shower and earl grey tea. He watches your eyes go to his mouth and then slowly move back to meet his gaze.

Why isn’t he kissing me?

You want him to kiss you.

But he’s just sitting there, arms around you; face so close you can see the density of his eyelashes. The two of you sit there breathing slowly into one anothers mouths and it dawns on you that Dieter is waiting for you. Impossibly erratic, impulsive Dieter Bravo is waiting to see if this is truly what you want. 

You need to make the first move.

For some reason that's what prompts your head to tilt towards him, your mouth gently landing against his. Your hands go to his shoulder, holding tightly. 

He kisses you gently at first, head spinning at how good it feels. He doesn't know if it's because this is the longest he's been sober in years or because it's you. Whatever the reason, it makes him wrap his arms around your waist, licking into your mouth as you whimper. 

Fuck he kisses well.

"This is a terrible idea," you tell him even as you begin to pull at the drawstring of his sweatpants. 

"Completely," he says, running his palms along your upper arms. 

"Need you to fuck me hard, Bravo."

"Anything you want."

"This is just a way to g-get some release," you tell him as his mouth goes to your neck and you groan. 

"Mhmmm."

You try to remember what you were going to say but his tongue is slowly dragging along your jaw before he's planting sloppy kisses down your neck.

"J-just this one time," you groan when his hands come to cup your breasts, thumbs rolling over the stiffened peaks of your breasts overtop your nightclothes.

"You sure? What about if you need it again?" Dieter hums, hands sliding up under your sleep shirt to find your breasts warm and heavy in his hands. He makes a soft sound of pleasure as he kneads them.  

"We c-can't," you whimper, eyes closing. His mouth is so soft and warm and it leaves every piece of your body it touches electric.

"Sure we can," he murmurs. "We make the rules."

"The contract," you offer weakly as his fingers gently pinch each nipple tightly until you gasp. Dieter can’t look away from your saddled brows and the way you arch into him.

"Didn't say anything about this," Dieter whispers against your mouth. You kiss him now, urgent and needy and he groans as he licks into your mouth.

"I want you to enjoy this," Dieter purrs. 

"I'll enjoy it," you tell him, hands still fumbling with the drawstring of his sweatpants.

You'll enjoy any sex at this point. You just need a quick, hard, fuck and you'll be back to your normal focused self (well, plus pregnant). You're startled when Dieter takes your wrists, pulling them from his waist. You frown up at him. 

"What're you-"

Dieter gives you a playful smirk and drops to his knees beside the sofa and between your legs. Your eyes blow open in shock as he tugs your sleep shorts down from under your sleep shirt and tosses them over his shoulder. They land somewhere on the floor, forgotten. You don't even have time to be embarrassed at being half naked in front of him, your boss, because he immediately drags one thigh over his broad shoulder.

"Amazing," he murmurs, eyes fixed on your glistening sex.

"You don't have to-"

"Don't have to make you feel good?" Dieter scoffs up at you. "No wonder you weren't in a rush to fuck. All your other boyfriends must have been pitiful in bed."

You're about to answer sharply when Dieters mouth descends. His hands grip the back of your thighs and you feel him lick a stripe up the seam of your drenched cunt. 

"Fuck!"

Dieter grins against your pussy at the sound. He looks up to see your eyes wide and fixed on him kneeling there between your legs. You’re slumped on the sofa, looking at him with flushed cheeks and heavy eyes and Dieter feels himself groan at the sight.

You try to distract yourself from the burning in your thighs and the sudden nakedness you feel when you see the moonlight is shining on Dieter’s mouth between your legs.

“Dieter anyone could see.”

“We’re a million miles away from anyone else,” he tells you, voice muffled. But he stops when he senses that you’re suddenly no longer interested in this, at least not in out here while the TV plays a documentary on Patagonia in the background. He leans forward,pressing glossy kisses up your belly until he’s caged you in with his arms against the sofa. He sees the pupils blown wide in your eyes and he can’t help himself from kissing you senseless. You taste yourself on him and it makes your ardor grow. 

With a patience he didn't even know he truly possessed, Dieter leads you to his bedroom by the hand, weaving through the furniture in the semi darkness. He’s so hard he’s fucking throbbing, the scent of you clinging to his face and driving him wild.

He watches you clamor onto his bed, eyes watching his face in anticipation. Despite the fact that you run most of his life, tonight it’s Dieter that will be taking the lead. To his surprise you submit, watching him with a nervous look as he crawls onto the bed next to you, still wearing his threadbare t-shirt and soft sweatpants.

You wait for him to start roughly, to take what he wants. You think of his hands on the back of that man’s head, the way he’d thrust lazily into his mouth. You wait for Dieter to take take take as he always does in all things.

But he’s not rushing, he’s watching you closely.

Because he's sober during sex for the first time in years and he's so aware of how this potentially changes things between the two of you. His hands are trembling when he reaches for you. For you this is release, Dieter is a human sex toy for you to derive pleasure from. Dieter knows and accepts this. 

But you're not that to him. 

And even though he can't recall that night the two of your shared that created the life you now carry, he knows that he never treated you like it. He’s never thought of you as just sexual release, not then, not now, not ever.

He watches you on the bed, hands reaching for him. “Dieter please.”

He moves towards the mattress, knees hitting the edge before his large hands come to slide your sleep shirt up your belly, notching it just under your breasts when he sees your concern at it rising higher.

"Lean back baby mama," Dieter grins down at you as he kisses his way down your swelled stomach, his mouth soft and wet. "Gonna make you feel so good."

"We don't have to- I just wanna get fucked," you explain, still feeling awkward at the thought of your boss going down on you. 

"Without being warmed up?" Dieter squints at you in confusion before placing a kiss to the soft of your pussy. "That's not how I do things. You need to come before you get this cock."

You hate how those words from him are enough to have you whimpering.

You watch him with eyes heavy lidded as he spreads your thighs widely for him, hooking them over his broad shoulders. Only now that you're opened so fully to him does he look at your sex and give a tortured moan. 

"Such a pretty pussy," he breathes, nose nudging your clit as he begins to give your cunt a sloppy kiss. "So wet already baby. This all for me?"

You don't reply to him and he doesn't wait for your response. But the answer is clear when arousal continues as his tongue begins to delve deeply between your folds. His tongue and mouth immediately begin working at a frantic pace between your legs as he holds you against his face. It isn't long before you're arching into him, holding him by his wild curls.

His wide hands hold your thighs to his shoulders, pinning you open so he can taste you. You hear murmurs of "so fucking sweet" and "so good for me, baby" and each rasping word hits you directly below your navel. 

When his tongue flicks your clit and then he begins sucking it's game over. You feel it building in your core and you let out a gentle whimper. Dieter’s eyes fly open at the sound, gaze fixed on your pleasured face contoured in pleasure at your approaching climax. 

Your hands are twisted in the sheets and he can see how every muscle in your body is tightened. You’re in awe at how wrong your initial assessment of his sexual prowess was. Dieter Bravo is not a selfish lover.

He's fucking insatiable.

"C'mon, baby," Dieters voice is low and syrupy between his licks and kisses. "Let go for me."

You weren't expecting it to feel this good. Weren't expecting Dieters voice to go that low and raspy. Weren't expecting that just his tongue and fingers could hit so deep, so well. 

"I need you to come on my tongue."

There's something in the almost way he says it that has your thighs tightening around his ears, back arching violently off the bed. 

"I'm... I'm-c-coming!"

You dissolve underneath his tongue, pelvis thrusting harshly against his greedy mouth. You cry out his name over and over, eyes damp with relieved tears at the tension that is slowly leaving your body. 

When you come, Dieter looks up the length of your body, taking in your glassy eyes and flushed cheeks as you float down from your high. You give a soft sigh that ends in a groan. You want more. 

"I knew it," he groans, eyes shuttering as he watches you shatter. "I fucking knew it."

You lay quaking in the aftershocks as Dieter crawls up the length of your body, dragging a loving palm over your belly as he does. You're not even sure he realizes he's doing it. 

"What did you know?" You pant, hands clutching the sheets as you come down from your pleasured high. His face is inches from yours, dark eyes glittering.

"The face you make when you come," Dieter rasps, eyes mapping your flushed face. "I knew it was gonna ruin me."

His mouth crashes into yours before you can reply and despite your insistence to yourself that this remain platonic, your arms are already snaking around his neck. You're dropping your jaw open so he can lick into your mouth and you hear your own desperate moans echoing against his in the quiet room.

"Fuck me," you croak against his mouth. "Hard."

He pulls back eagerly, stumbling to a stand beside the bed and nearly tripping in his rush to take off his pants and shirt. Finally he stands curls askew from taking off his t-shirt in a rush. 

He places his knee on the bed and you can't help but be impressed with the size of him. No wonder he has so many repeat bedroom visitors. Between that and his tongue is a marvel he has time to leave his bed at all. 

"You ready?"

"Yes," you pant, hating how desperate you sound as your hands reach for him, eagerly shifting your hips and smiling at him. He lays himself next to you on his side.

“Oh shit, a condom-“ Dieter starts with a frown. “I think I have some-“

"You're clean?"

"Yeah,” Dieter says with quirked brows. “Haven't fucked anyone since you."

You're shocked by this announcement.  “Mia?”

Dieter shakes his head, cheeks pinking. You sense the moment slipping from you and you shake off the voice that tells you the lines are blurring.  Right now all you want is to feel Dieter inside of you.

“Fuck me bare,” you tell him, mouth on his.

“Really?”

“S’not like I can get more pregnant.”

Dieter chuckles gently, his hand coming to cup your cheek as his tongue slips into your mouth. You taste him, every crevice as he does the same to you, needing to feel every piece of you that you keep hidden. As he does he trails a finger lazily against your inner thigh, knuckles brushing against the warmth of your core. 

"You still want this?" he murmurs pulling back to see your eyes.

"Yeah," you nod eagerly, already missing the sensation of his lips on yours. You curl into him. He still stares at you, only now he looks nervous. 

"You want me?"

There's something in the way Dieter's voice catches at that last word. Almost as if it's fighting to get out of his throat. Your eyes latch to his and you see the vulnerability there, the way he looks so unsure even as you hold to him.  

"Yeah, Dieter," you finally say quietly. "I want you." 

The relief is so clear as his mouth finds yours again. He kisses you deeply, tongues dabbing at one another as he urges you onto your back. 

"Fuck, I can't believe we're finally doing this," he rasps against your jaw, pressing damp kisses there. "Gonna make you feel so good."

His fingers trail at the seam of your cunt, teasing but you bat them away. He gives you a confused look. 

"I need your cock," you tell him breathlessly, hitching your thighs around his hips and urging his cock to your entrance. 

This isn't what he normally does. He likes his female partners to be multiple orgasms deep before he fucks them. He's large and he doesn't want to hurt you.

"Please," you whisper and now you're cunt is shifting towards the head of his cock, urging him inside. 

He gives a small groan and before he can second guess you request he's slowly sliding into you to the hilt. The feeling of Dieter entering you is exquisite, the stretch not too bad because he's already made you come.

Your entire body arches under him at the divine sensation, the way he fills you so achingly full. You hiss in pleasure, gripping his shoulders so tightly you leave half moon crests temporarily tattooed on them. 

Dieter stares at you as he enters you, his mouth hanging open as the delicious sensation of your cunt envelops him. Warm and slick and so fucking good. You wrap around him like you were made for him, like you were both built to fit perfectly together. It makes him give out a strangled gurgle when he sheaths himself to the hilt. 

"Holy fuck." 

"So good," you moan without thought. You're normally not a vocal lover, but no one has made you feel this good just at entering you. 

"Yeah?" Dieter asks you with a proud grin as his hips begin to rock into you. "You like feeling me deep, huh?"

"Yes," you nod, biting your lower lip. "Want you even deeper."

Your thighs drop open further and now you're hands slither down his side until you’re gripping his ass, urging him to fuck harder and deeper. 

"So eager," Dieter rasps not even bothering to hide his delight. You're eager for him. He nuzzles your cheek, grazing a kiss there. "You’re trembling, baby. You needed this didn't you? Needed my cock so badly."

"Uh huh."

Fuck you're so pliant, so goddam agreeable right now under him that it makes Dieter heady. You're never so soft with him in real life. You'd never admit to needing him outside this moment. Dieter realizes right then and there that being inside you bare is better than any drug, any drink.

"You like fucking an Oscar winner, sweet thing?"

You momentarily break from your pleasured haze to give him a look that clearly reads your disdain for this particular dirty talk. In all the bliss you've been experiencing with him, you'd momentarily forgotten who Dieter Bravo is. 

Dieter is an ego maniac, a man who loves to talk about himself, an actor who gets told how amazing he is by everyone, so you really shouldn't be that surprised that he'd bring up his accolades during sex. However that's about the least sexy thing about him right now

"Does that usually work?"

"Huh?" Dieter's eyes are glassy as his cock saws in and out of you. "Does what work?"

"Reminding your bed partners that you're an Oscar winner?" 

He looks at the derision in your gaze and swallows embarrassed. "Sometimes."

You see the sheepish look cross his features. 

"Why say it?"

"I guess…to impress them." Dieter gives a crooked grin. "To seduce them... Or whatever .."

"You don't need to impress me or seduce me," you tell him firmly, your hips jutting as you increase his pace. "This is a transaction, Dieter. All I need from you is your cock and for you to fuck me deep."

Dieter grins weakly again and watches as your eyes shut, hands moving to either side of your head against the pillow and he begins thrusting anew. Dieter loves that he doesn't have to wear a condom with you. He's rarely gone bareback - always paranoid about accidental pregnancy or a lying partner. The sweet clench on his bare cock has his brain fuzzy.

Dieter can't fight the need to inhale you at that moment. Your soap, your perfume, your skin. Everything tantalizes him, making his mouth water. His nose buries itself in the hair at your temple and he breathes deeply. Coconut. Vanilla. And something something uniquely you that he can't quite place. 

Having you like this is a dream, one he didn't realize he's been harboring for much longer than when you first slept together. 

"Need to hear those noises again," Dieter groans against your temple. "Need to feel your cunt squeeze me when you come."

His mouth is filthy and you're shocked at how much it turns you on to hear it. His voice is so low, so gravely is almost a purr. 

"You gonna soak my cock, baby?"

"Yes," you mewl, eyes tightly shut as your bodies rock against one another. 

"Yeah you are," he says with affection. 

He wants so desperately to push your t-shirt up and see the rest of you naked and bouncing. But he'll take what you offer without complaint. His hips shift forward again and again, your thighs spread wide for him so he can access you as deeply as possible. 

"Harder," you beg brokenly. "Please… fuck me harder."

He acquiesces immediately with a grunt, hands coming to pin your wrists to the mattress above your head as he fucks into you, hips moving brutally against yours. He can see the swell of your breasts bouncing under the soft cotton of your t-shirt, watches the way your eyes roll back and hears the strange throaty babbling that emerges from you.

"So fu ... So dee.. Fuck... Good.... Don't st... Gonna... Gonna..."

Each word is punched out with every thrust from Dieter. He feels sweat beginning to bead at his temples but nothing distracts him from his pursuits. 

You're close, he knows by the way your own hips begin to circle his and then finally they still as you begin pulsing around his length. 

At the first sound of your cry and the feeling of your cunt milking him, Dieter feels his own release erupt from him.

“You’re so good, so fucking good,” he groans before he grunts out your name as he gives one final thrust and then stills. He groans as he spends himself deep within you before he collapses on top of you, head against your shoulder. 

"Fuck." Dieter says slowly. "That was....that was good right?"

"More than good," you say honestly before brushing back your sweaty hair from your forehead. "Thank you."

You go to sit up and leave but Dieter is already pulling you towards him, wedging a leg between yours and nestling his face in the crook of your neck.

“Just stay a moment.”

You want to extricate yourself, to remind him that this was all just for release. But he’s so warm and he smells so good and you feel so good and the room is so warm . . .

You wake up a few hours later to Dieter’s hand gently rubbing your stomach over your sleep shirt. You give a soft yawn and he looks your face on the pillow next to his. He wonders if all men feel like this when they’ve gotten a woman pregnant. This fierce protectiveness, this open desire that makes him want to hold you and never let go.

You look beautiful right now, sleepy and sensual as you give a soft stretch. He feels your torso shift and thinks about the miracle under his fingertips. Creating life.

"He's gonna be a Saggitarius."

"Huh?"

"My son," Dieter tells you. "Doctor says he'll be born December twelfth, remember? That makes him a Saggitarius."

"So?"

"So that's good because I'm a Libra. So we're a good personality match. He's gonna be independent though. Wonder if he'll go into the family business," Dieter muses looking at your belly. "What are you?"

"A woman who doesn't think that star placements affect my future," you say with your eyes closed, mouth curled into a bemused smirk.

"He'll be here just in time for Christmas," Dieter says dreamily. "Can you imagine how cute he'll be in front of the Christmas tree?"

"Not really," you say briskly. "I'll be recovering from pushing a watermelon-sized being out of my body. I'm thinking a beach somewhere with lots of alcohol."

"You're not going to be here?" Dieter says, feeling a strange panic bubbling inside him. "Not even for the first few days?"

"You paid me to be your surrogate, Dieter," you tell him flatly. "Not your nanny." 

"I just figured you'd stick around for a bit," Dieter mutters.

“I'm gonna go to an all inclusive somewhere. Just relax for two weeks in the sunshine, get hammered, ho-."

You stop. You'd been about to say "hook up" but something makes you pause. When you'd first thought about life post birth you'd kinda just assumed that it would be running away to an island to celebrate the whole thing being behind you. But now, thoughts of some warm vacation away from Dieter and your baby seems... Hollow. 

Not your baby. Stop thinking like that. 

You glance over to see Dieter, his face impassive. You think that maybe, just maybe you could stay a few days. Just to get the baby settled. That would be kind of you. Yes, that works. 

"I guess I could stay the first week it comes home- er to your home," you tell him. 

Dieter nearly jumps off the bed in excitement. "Really?"

You shrug. "Won't be able to move much anyway." 

Dieter can't help himself, his hands go to your neck, holding you before his lips come crashing into yours. You hate how you don't even pause before returning the kiss with cheeks flushed as he takes them in his hands, his eyes soft on yours. 

When he kisses you again it feels slower, deeper. And when you urge him on top of you again, your thighs parting automatically, he slides into you like he just kissed you. Slow and deep until the two of you are shuddering against one another, your dual moans a symphony in the quiet house.

Cravings

bananas

pizza

pretzels

independence from boss who will not stop sending insane baby related texts at all hours of the day

Missing

personal space

sushi

not barfing 

Baby is size of turnip.

Dieter’s mood continues to vacillate in the coming weeks. Some days he’s bouncing up and down, cooing at your belly behind closed doors and talking about the future. Other days he’s withdrawn, spending hours in his art room or running through his lines alone in his bedroom.

You wonder if it’s the withdrawal from drugs. You haven’t seen your employer indulging in anything more than red wine at dinner and you wonder if it’s taking its toll on him. You decide he needs a distraction, something fun. You also sort of want to pay him back for… well… helping you out.

You take a look at his schedule and after a few phone calls you go to his art room on morning he has off, giving a soft knock. His voice is muffled but irritable through the closed door. He’s blasting music that he turns down.

“What?”

“I have a surprise for you,” you tell him grinning through the door. Almost immediately you hear the padding of socked feet and he pulls the door open, a cigarette hanging loosely from his mouth, his eyes wide like a child’s.

“A surprise?”

 “Yep,” you nod with a smile. “A special treat.”

He wastes no time in running a comb through his hair (at your insistence), popping a piece of gum in his mouth and pulling on his oversized jacket before following you out of the house and into the waiting town car.

“What’s the treat?” he asks the second the vehicle begins to move.

“Be patient,” you say with a teasing grin. “It’s about a two hour drive to Dublin.”

“Two hours?” Dieter throws himself back in his seat as if this is the cruellest form of punishment. “Do I get a hint?”

You mull this over as the green outside the window sails by. “Mmm… Green.”

“Green?”

“Yep.”

“The fuck?”

“That’s all you get.”

“What kind of clue is ‘green’ when we’re in fucking Ireland?”

“Guess you’ll have to wait and see,” you tell him. “Now I have some work I have to do, why don’t you go on your phone or take a nap or something.”

“You sure you’ve never had kids?” Dieter muses sarcastically. “Sure sound like one.”

You give him a warning look before going back to responding to emails about a photo shoot happening next month. You pull into Dublin a few hours later, glancing sideways when Dieter shifts and begins speaking.

"I miss going to the movies as a regular person," Dieter tells you, eyes hidden behind sunglasses as you drive by the theatre. "Used to be the only place that made me happy."

Dieter tells you a lot, but his childhood is a topic he usually stays away from. You lower your phone, giving him your full attention. "Really?"

"Yeah," he nods. "When I was a kid we didn't have a ton of money. But my mom always saved up enough for me to go to see a movie." 

He misses his Mom a lot. It’s clear in the wistful way he talks about her. It reminds you that the two of you share a connection, one you both wish you didn’t. Parents gone too soon, taken, ripped from your families but never your hearts.

You don’t have to lower his sunglasses to know his eyes are misty as he thinks of her. You reach across the seat and wrap your fingers around his wide hand. You want this day to be a good one for him, you want him to be happy. 

“What’s your favorite drink in the whole world?”

Dieter comes back to himself, glancing at you over his sunglasses. “Easy, whiskey.”

“Exactly,” you say smiling. “And what kind?”

“Jameson.”

You nod, watching the green building slowly coming into view. You motion to it out the window with a soft "voila" grinning as Dieters eyes grow wide.

"Jameson distillery...Private tour for one Dieter Bravo," you tell him proudly. "Turns out the owner is a big Cliff Beasts fan." 

Dieter is leaning over your lap to see more of the building, his warm chest on your thighs.

"Are you serious?"

He's looking at the logo glowing on the sign, eyes taking in the double doors before smiling in shock at you. 

"Yep. Now be on your best behavior," you tell him bringing out the phone. "I'll be back in three hours-"

"Fuck that," Dieter scoffs. "You're coming with me. This'll be way more fun with someone else."

"Dieter, I can't even drink."

"I'll drink enough for the two of u-"

"Incorrect," you cut him off officiously. "You promised Diane you weren’t getting wasted anymore. So today you can to enjoy the tour and the whiskey tasting, maybe buy a hat, but that's it."

"But-"

"Don't make me regret doing something nice, Bravo," you warn him and a warm smile crosses his face as he nods.

"Yes ma'am."

"Alright, let's go in." You shuffle on your seat to the door. “Now we only have three hours inside so make sure you don’t wander off, got it?”

“Got it.” Dieter is squirming excitedly so much he reminds you of a puppy, all big eyes and wagging tail. You roll your eyes in amusement before you duck out of the car with him, telling the driver to please return in three hours.

“Sunglasses,” you murmur, handing them to him. He slips them on, tugging up the hood of his jacket. Without warning he takes your hand in his, clasping tightly. “Don’t wanna get separated,” he explains. You don’t fight him on it, instead you grip him back and nod.

Dieter doesn't let go of your hand until you're both inside staring up at the chandelier made of whisky bottles. The place is busy, but its midday and most are so distracted by their own adventure that they don't even notice Dieter as you two walk in. 

"Holy shit," Dieter says and even though you can't see his eyes you know they're wide with excitement. 

The wraparound bar has descriptive titles like floral, vanilla, smooth above empty shot glasses begging to be filled. Dieter reads the board talking about the various things to see. 

"I wanna do the cask drawing," he says, rocking back in his shoes excitedly. "And the blending class."

"We can do it all," you promise him, absently tapping his elbow to keep him moving. "C'mon, we're looking for a Peter Connor." 

You sail past a group just starting their tour, your feet slapping the slate floor. Dieter is awestruck, looking at everything like a wondrous child until you come upon what looks to be the owner, a grey haired man with big ears. 

"Peter Connor?" You ask, pulling out the email correspondence between the two of you. "I'm the one who-"

"Mister Bravo?" Peter says with his Irish lilt the second he sees him, his eyes wide. "I was just sayin' to me wife that it was a feckin' miracle you bein' in Dublin since we just finished yer latest Cliff Beast film. Is there any hope of an autograph for the wife an' me?"

Dieter is all charm and smiles, shaking the man's hand and chatting back and forth before signing autographs and you taking a few photos of them. 

"I didn't know you were married," Peter says, shaking you hand warmly before you realize what he's said. 

"Oh no," you say quickly. "Just his PA."

"My mistake," Peter says ducking his head. "Well if you'll be followin' me I've got a special tour planned. Your assistant here told me how much ye love Jameson, Mister Bravo."

"I do," Dieter says grinning. It's the only whisky I drink." 

"Aye, as it should be."

The private tour goes off without a hitch and you find yourself fascinated by the varied history of Jameson whiskey. 

When it comes to the tasting Peter your tour guide goes to pass you your flight but you stop him. 

"None for me, thanks."

"Ye can't be comin' through Jameson and not tryin' a drop," he cajoles. Normally you'd come up with a lie or laugh along with him. But you're tired from the drive and walking while pregnant so you just shrug.

"Unless medical advice has changed in the last fifty years I don't think introducing my unborn child to whiskey in the womb is exactly wise."

Peter is immediately all smiles, looking at your stomach.

"Are ye' in the family way then?" He smiles. "What a blessin'. Is this yer first?"

And last. 

"Yeah," you nod, not wanting more attention than necessary. Dieter is watching all of this at your elbow, eyes on your face. 

"I wish ye and yer little one nothin' but blue skies and long healthy days and that you'll both be rich in blessins." 

"Thank you."

Dieter sees it before you do, Peter's hand reaching forward to gently pat your stomach. He remembers the horror you feel at strangers grabbing your body and he quickly wraps his arm around your waist, guiding you towards the next flight of whiskey being brought out. 

When a young couple comes up and quietly requests a photo Dieter accepts and it’s you who offers to take it, asking them to be subtle and not post it until Dieter has left. They agree, their hands hovering around Dieter’s broad shoulders. You hand them back their phone and move on, rolling your eyes at their backs.

Refreshing.

That's the word that comes to mind with Dieter about you. You're refreshing. Like an iced cold glass of water on a hot day. A welcome reprieve from the relentless heat. He's never had a someone close to him who didn't want their five minutes of fame. But you? You hate being seen, hate the idea of someone taking your photo.  You want to exist, but you don't want celebrity, that's never been what you crave. And Dieter thinks that might be one of the nicest things about you.

You do the cask drawing, the whisky tasting, the black barrel blending class and by the end of the experience Dieter is visibly relaxed, wearing his newly acquired green Jameson t-shirt, beanie, hipflask and a bag full of no less than a metric fuck-ton of booze. 

"Did you really need sixteen bottles D?"

"This is 12 distillery Reserve," Dieter says aghast at your question. "You can only get it in Dublin. So its one for each month plus a few extra for gifts."

You shake your head in faux exasperation as you both get into the car that's arrived for you along the curb. And just in time, you hear a few voices starting to murmur Dieters name as you close the door behind you both.

Settled inside Dieter produces a key chain in the shape of a whisky bottle, it glints in the low dimming lights of the city.

"For you," he says handing you the key chain as you laugh. "Since you didn't get to drink anything." 

"Thanks," you say with a short laugh, taking the key chain from him. You look it over, gently rubbing at the raised enamel. The car begins to drive and you feel your eyelids start to lower.

"Thanks for the treat," comes Dieters whisky-tinged breath huffing at your temple. “Even if you didn’t get to drink.”

You try to hold in the shiver that accompanies his husky order in your ear. Fucking hormones. You swallow, eyes blinking open but you don't dare look over at the chuckling Dieter leaning back into his seat. 

“Can we make one stop?” Dieter calls to the driver before the partition closes.

“Where?”

“I ordered something a few weeks back that I wanted to pick up.”

The car takes you to a small row of pale colored storefronts. Dieter mutters that he’ll be right back. You watch him exit and he takes off down one of the narrow alleys, his shoulders hunched. 

Your stomach drops because this is all too familiar. This is a fix.

He’s going to buy drugs.

When he returns minutes later with no parcel and his hands shoved into his pockets you know that you’re right. The disappointment that floods you almost takes your breath away. Dieter clamors into the vehicle and the driver informs you that you’ll make good time heading back to the rental.

You are positively fuming and despite his several attempts at getting you to talk, you force your ear buds into your ears and ignore Dieter for the entire drive home.

You throw the door open when you finally arrive back, waiting for town car to leave the drive before you turn on Dieter, your voice low and growled as he makes his way to the kitchen.

“You are unbelievable.”

He slowly lowers his bags and bags of booze before taking in how furious you look. 

“Huh? Why?”

“After all that trouble I went to because I wanted to give you a nice afternoon, you go and stop to get drugs?” You head shakes almost violently, moving to the kitchen to give space between the two of you because right now you want to throttle him.  “So what is it this week? Cocaine? Heroin? I thought you wanted to be a responsible p-“

“Woah woah,” Dieter says raising his hands in supplication. “Chill out. I didn’t buy any fucking drugs and just so you know, I haven’t even done heroin in years. Believe it or not, some things in rehab stuck.”

“Oh no?” You scoff, throwing your purse to the floor. “Empty your pockets then.”

Dieter stands stiffly staring at you, a frown crossing his features.

“No.”

“Dieter.”

“I don’t want to.”

The two of you stare at one another a moment in a silent standoff. It’s you who fires the first shot as you reach into your coat pocket for your cellphone.

“I’m calling Diane,” you say briskly, “you can lie to me all you want, but-“

“I’m not lying to you,” Dieter insists and irritation is crowding his features now. The back of his neck is growing warm, a classic sign of frustration in him. He wishes you’d stop being so cold to him, so accusatory.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Why?”

“Because I know you.”

“Well you don’t know me that well!” Dieter all but shouts. He reaches into his pocket now and pulls out a small box, slamming it onto the kitchen counter between you both. You stare at it confused before looking back up at him.

“What is this?”

“A present for you,” he bites off, his cheeks pink with irritation. “One I was hoping to save until the end of filming.”

The shame that takes you over is almost debilitating in its acuity. You feel your entire body grow warm with humiliation at your accusation. All your desire for a pleasant day for Dieter has been ruined by you of all people.

“Oh.”

“Well you might as well open it now,” Dieter shrugs. “Cats out of the bag.”

You grimace as you open the box, feeling shame growing in your cheeks as you view what’s inside.

It’s a ring.

Your eyes widen as you look inside the box, your fingers pulling the ring out to inspect it. It's the same one you saw weeks ago, the hands holding the heart. Only this beautifully carved one has hands holding a sparking green emerald heart instead. You swallow your suddenly very dry mouth, glancing up at him.

"You bought me a ring?"

Dieter shrugs as if this is something he does every day.

“Why?”

"Heard you talking about it with Fia at the shop so I got one sent from Galway." He sees the look on your face and his brows furrow. "What? You don't like it?"

"I do," you promise him, putting the ring on your right hand, the heart facing out. You both smile when you hold it up to the light. "I love it actually. But I don't want you feeling like you have to get my gifts, Dieter. You're already paying me a lot."

Dieters smile flickers briefly. 

"Yeah well this was... This wasn't a baby thing. It was a... I dunno, friend thing. A PA thing. You do a lot for me and just a thank you."

You stare at Dieter in shock, unable to formulate a reply a moment.  You look at the ring and the hurt look on Dieter’s face and you feel shame suffuse you. He’d gone and done a sweet thing and you’d thought the worst of him.

“I’m sorry, Dieter.”

He nods and then walks past you, his face solemn as he walks into his bedroom and quietly closes the door shut.

///

19 weeks personal diary entry [D.Bravo]

Baby Name Ideas

Alex

Victor

Francisca

Penelope

Javiera

Should I include Mom’s name as middle name?  She wouldn’t want that anyway.

The thing about working on a smaller film set is that it can feel like a family. You're already friends with many of the other PA's, the wardrobe department, hair and makeup, the catering and much more. 

Most are older than you by a bit, not uncommon in this part of Ireland and its union. They are all perfectly kind to you, the food is always great and because of that you find yourself going to set more than you have in past productions.

Back in America you used to sit in Dieters trailer on set days with your laptop and phone busily organizing his days. But here his days aren't spent partying and because of the baby on the way you find him hanging around his rental most evenings. It makes your job easier and you find yourself with more free time.

You're also fascinated by how Dieter transforms himself into someone entirely different for this role. It's amazing how he goes from slob in his hole-filled robe and Crocs to a dashing leading man with his hair slicked back and his beard trimmed. 

You're also amazed by Mia. You've been on plenty of sets and seen Dieter act opposite many beautiful leading ladies. But Mia is a supreme talent, the kind of woman who people whisper about and stare at. During their scenes together your eyes volley between the two of them completely enraptured in their acting and their undeniable chemistry. 

You watch one day as a scene is filmed. Your perched on the chair marked Dieter Bravo, legs crossed and eyes stuck on him on set. It's a night scene and they are both in a library un-chaperoned. 

"Why are you here?" Mia asks silhouetted against the window. 

"You know why," he says with a throaty rasp coming up behind a quivering Mia. 

He completely changes himself for each character down to the way he holds his shoulders back, making him look even broader. 

It's hard not to find him attractive like that. Especially now that you know... What you know. The feel of his tongue between your thighs, the rasp of his beard against your cheek. The way his voice goes honeyed when he urges you to come.

You gonna soak my cock, baby?

You watch as Dieter cages Mia in against the wall. "You know what you do to me," he murmurs. 

Mia stares up at him, her wide eyes unblinking. You swear you could see adoration in her gaze. It makes you hold your breath. 

"Cut."

You watch the two of them break into easy smiles before Dieters large hand sails to the small of Mia's back. He leans over and whispers something into her ear and she tilts towards him, grabbing his bicep as she trills a laugh. 

She likes him. You'd long suspected given her gazes that first night at the award show. But the worst part is that Dieter is feeding her obvious crush. His dark eyes crinkle at the sides when she says something only he can hear. 

You find yourself cringing at their exchange, your eyes dropping to your phone. Diane has sent you a few emails about a kids awards show that they want to honor Dieter at. Plus a few branding commercials you have to run by him. 

You head back to his trailer, needing to focus on your work. It’s a few hours later when you hear the crunch of his boots on the gravel and then the shift of the trailer as he enters, seeing the lights are on and inhaling that familiar aroma of coconuts and vanilla.  You give a short hello, not even looking up from your laptop.

"It's lunch," he informs you, watching you hurriedly type at the table.

"Uh huh."

"Have you eaten?"

"I will later." 

You don't even notice that he's left until twenty minutes later when a container of salad, bread and lasagna is pushed in front of you. You glance up with a quirked brow to see Dieter staring down at you. 

"Eat." 

Normally this would annoy you. You hate being told what to do and you hate being babied. 

But there's something about the sight of him in that costume, the stern look on his face and the rasped command that has your pupils blowing wide. Your hormones begin thrumming and you feel arousal pooling in your lower belly. You barely feel in control of yourself as you close the lid of your laptop.  

“I-I’m going on a walk,” you tell him before sliding out of the seat.

“But lunch –“

“I’ll eat when I get back. I promise.”

You hear a knock on his trailer door.

"Mister Bravo? Your needed on set."

"Coming Simon," Dieter calls out. Then he looks back at you with a serious look on his handsome face.

“Cmon,” Dieter pleads, his large eyes round. “Eat quick and then come to set? I want your advice on some lines.”

“Sure.”

He smiles and heads out of the trailer. The second the door is closed you’ve taken off to the daybed at the back of his trailer. You hate yourself for what you’re about to do, but it doesn’t stop you from shucking down your jeans and thrusting your hands under your panties.

The daybed smells like the cologne he wears, the organic soap he uses. Your close your eyes and inhale deeply before you bring yourself off in record time at the thought of Dieter in that regency outfit, of his dark eyes burning coals into yours as he takes you murmuring filth in that deep rasp of his.

When you come down you give a breathless laugh at how fast that happened before cleaning yourself up in the bathroom. You return to have a few bites of your lasagna before grabbing a banana from this morning's forgotten breakfast and heading to set.

You take your spot on Dieters chair as you arrive, your cheeks heating when he comes over to you. He looks nervous as he holds out the script to you. 

"Run these with me?"

"Of course."

Dieter nods and you watch him transform into character. He runs a hand through his hair, making it more dishevelled. His face is a glower, his dark eyes narrowed.  

“I need you,” Dieter growls. “So much I can barely breathe. You see what you do to me?”

Fuck.

You’re turned on and Dieter can see it plain as day. He sensed it back in the trailer, but now it’s so fucking obvious he could laugh, your pupils blown wide in your eyes as you watch him finish the scene.

“U-uh that was good,” you stammer, flustered. He wants to kiss you so badly right now, the smirk threatening to turn into a full-blown smile as he watches his normally composed assistant turn pink in the face, stuttering.

“No feedback?”

"Hmmm, maybe try loosening this," you tell him, hooking a finger into his cravat and tugging gently, feeling breathless as you do. "Like you're so overwhelmed by her nearness that you can't breathe."

"Oh shit, that's good," Dieter says with a broad smile. 'I'm gonna use that. Thanks."

"No problem," you answer honestly, eyes moving from his neck to his face. "I actually enjoy this part of the job."

"Yeah?" Dieter’s voice drops a bit as his head tilts to yours. "S'that all you enjoy about working for me?" 

Memories of your times together flood your senses and your traitorous gaze immediately falls to his full mouth. You realize your finger is still hooked in his collar. You remove it slowly, letting it drag along his neck. 

"Be honest," he purrs quietly against your temple. “I saw how you were looking at me earlier. This costume do it for you, baby mama? Should I bring it back with me later?”

Yes, fuck yes please.

You feel his mouth at your cheek as his hand rises to hover over your belly.

You go white in the face, pressing him back from you and glancing around, thankful no one is watching. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" You hiss quietly. "Are you insane?"

Dieter seems to come back to himself and stands abruptly. His eyes are wide, realizing what he almost did. 

"Fuck, I didn't-"

"Talent to set."

Dieter goes to say something else but instead just shakes his head and strides from you. 

You can't even look at him right now you're so angry. He's going to blow this entire fucking thing with his recklessness. You want to leave but they're about to start rolling and you’re a professional.  

"Alright," the director says as the makeup woman brushes Dieters face to take away any shine. "From the top of the page."

"You want me throwing with right or left?"

"Can you do left?"

"Yep."

"Excellent. For the chair, both like in rehearsal." The director slides back into his chair watching the monitor. "Camera? Rolling... Action."

You watch as Dieter grabs a glass of prop wine, throwing it back and tossing the glass into the fireplace furiously.

"She won't even look at me," he growls to himself, shrugging the coat angrily from his shoulders to reveal a starched lawn shirt underneath. "Acts as if she doesn't want me."

He tugs at the cravat around his neck before pouring another glass. He drinks this one quickly murmuring about how the woman he loves has become a stranger to him. 

"He's magnificent," a voice whispers beside you. Its Mia dressed in a robe, holding a cup of tea. She's staring at Dieter with stars in her eyes. 

The director calls for a cut to reset, something about the lighting. Mia smiles over at you, taking the seat with her name on it as Dieter stands with the director talking quietly. You notice his eyes swinging in your direction and so you focus on Mia next to you. 

"I've watched him since I was a teenager," she admits with a soft blush. "He was my first celeb crush."

"Really?"

Mia giggles and nods before taking a sip of her tea. Her large eyes trail over to Dieter once more.

"Is he single?"

You blink. "I think so, yeah."

"Do you think I'm his type?"

You want to laugh. "You're young, beautiful, talented and you're a fan of his. Trust me, you're his type." 

"But?"

"Honestly?" You grimace at the concern in her features. "Dieter is a lot of fun. Not really serious, not really...."

You trail off thoughtfully a moment.

"Your star is on the rise, Mia. And from what I've seen of this industry that can be easily tarnished by being seen with the wrong person."

"You make it seem like he's a murderer."

"No, murder is too much work for Dieter," you say with false musing. "I'm sure he'd just get me to do it for him." 

Mia hides another giggle behind her hand. You grin at her before growing somber. 

"Honestly Mia, Dieter is a great person. He's got a great heart. I just don't think his reputation would be great for you. He's got a laundry list of drug use, saying pretty outrageous stuff on the red carpet," you swallow. "I would just hate for your reputation to suffer because you wanted to date your celebrity crush." 

Mia nods thoughtfully, draining the rest of her tea. You feel bad, but at the same time you know what you're talking about. You've seen the hypocrisy of Hollywood taking down women for entering into high profile relationships with notorious bad boys. Mia is too talented to have that happen to her. 

While she doesn’t say anything further, you don’t miss the way she continues to stare at Dieter.

Ireland is gorgeous. You've rented a car so the time not spent working on Dieter work is spent exploring the Emerald Isle. You love the verdant surroundings, the amazing locals, the landscapes that take your breath away.

You meet so many kind people, many of them tourists. When they hear your accent they want to take you for a pint and a chat but you always decline. You don't want to have to explain why you don't drink.

Most evenings are spent going over lines with Dieter for the next day’s shooting. Otherwise it's scheduling his meetings, checking in with Diane about his sponsorship posts. And while you grow happier by the day out here, Dieter is quite the opposite.

After the first week you noticed him looking a little down in the mouth. You told yourself it was just a bad mood. But now almost two months in he's become unbearable. Snapping at you, spending a lot of time in his art room. He doesn't want to run lines with you anymore, he hires an acting coach that arrives looking frazzled and they seclude themselves in the office for hours.

At first you assumed they were fucking, but the few times you've passed by to get to your bedroom you can hear them running lines. Dieter always sounds so frustrated, near his breaking point.

You wonder why he stopped running them with you. Was it the sex? It was just a one-time thing.

Dieter continues growing worse, now more snappy and irritable than usual. His morning mediation has ceased entirely. He smokes cigarettes in the garden outside, even in the drizzly afternoon weather.

It all comes to a head when you're woken from a dead sleep to the sound of the front door being slapped and your name being called.

"I wanna fuck again," Dieter tells you, his mouth tainted with whisky when you open the door. He pulls up your shirt, kissing your belly sloppily. "Take off your shirt this time, I wanna see your tits."

You're in no mood. You shove him off of you angrily because you know this horny, loud, rapidly moving Dieter. He's very familiar.

"You're on something."

Dieter shrugs, his eyes on your expanded chest. He wants to see your tits so fucking badly he can't stand it. His hands go to cup them, his mouth parted. “Did a bump with some of the crew. No biggie.”

“Dieter!”

“What?” he challenges. “Just being the guy you always think I am. Some addict loser.”

You feel your face fall at this admission. You think back to how you accused him of buying drugs that day. The hurt look that had crossed his features.

"You can't do this Dieter," you tell him as you jerk back away from his outstretched fingers. "You promised."

"Don't nag me," he scowls when he can see you're keeping your clothes on.

"I'm telling you the facts," you reply. "You promised Diane! And even if you didn't, you told me you wanted this kid."

"I do!"

"Then what the fuck are you doing? You want this kid to end up with some junkie for a father?" You're practically hissing. "Late to set, doing hard drugs, what is going on?"

Dieter tries to turn from you but you grip his shoulder, spinning him.

"Tell me!"

"They don't like me here," Dieter barks out at you, causing you to recoil from him. "They don't think I'm good enough to be in this movie. I can see it in their eyes!"

Animosity drops from your shoulders like an unwelcome jacket. Immediately you soften.

"Dieter," your tone is gentle. "Why would they have hired you if you weren't talented enough?"

"I do action movies, not this Jane Austen shit," Dieter moans, throwing himself into the couch. "I'm no good."

Suddenly the agitation, the long hours spent with his acting coach all makes sense to you.

"I've seen your stuff Dieter," you tell him. "It's great when you really put your heart and soul into it."

His large eyes are so hopeful staring up at you.

"I mean it," you say, your hand reaching out instinctively towards him. He takes it, pressing his cheek into your touch and letting his eyes fall shut.

His stubbled cheek nuzzles against your palm, like an eager cat desperate to lay claim. Suddenly it's too familiar, too domestic and you whip your hand back from him. His dark eyes dart open with a snap. 

"You're just saying that," Dieter says, feeling rejected as you pull back from him. "Just saying it to make your job easier."

He pushes himself from the couch, ignoring your calls for him to stop and come back, to talk this out.  He slams the door to his bedroom and you can only assume he's locking himself up to do more of whatever he bought.

Fuck what am I gonna do?!

You can't call Diane, it's far too late back in the US and even if you did what can she do?

You scroll through the list of names in your phone. You don't want to get Dieter in trouble with the director or the-

Your thumb hovers over the name MIA ROWE/JOSH in your contact list. You type hurriedly.

[6:55pm] Is there any chance Mia could come by to talk Dieter off a ledge? He's panicking about the movie and I'm outta options.

[6:55 pm] JOSH:One sec. I'll ask.

 [6:58 pm] JOSH:Yep. Now good?

When Mia arrives shortly after looking glamorous even in her jeans and sweater, you thank her profusely.

"I don't know how much you know about Dieter and his drug use-" you start, stopping when she raises a wavering hand.

"I know enough," she promises you. "My dad was an addict."

Oh. You worry now that this is far too much for her.

"He's been acting weird the last few days," she confides hanging up her jacket. "I suspected. Honestly I'm relieved that you called."

Relief floods you. "He's in his bedroom, do you want me to-"

"No no, you relax," she says giving you a wink. "I've got it from here."

Dieter is lying on his side when the knock comes to his door. His coke is gone and so is the elated feeling that goes along with it. Now he feels snippy and angry. Your disappointed face flashes in his mind and he winces.

"Go away."

"Dieter?"

That's not your voice. He twists to look over his shoulder at Mia slowly cracking the door open.

"Can I come in?"

What the hell.

"Yeah. Sure."

He forces himself to a sitting position, his head hung to the side as she sits next to him on his bed.

"Your PA told me you're upset about filming and-"

"That I'm the worst fucking actor on set? Yeah."

Dieter throws himself dramatically back onto the bed.

"You're not."

Mia smiles gently at him, her blonde locks falling into her eyes. She takes his hand gently in hers, rubbing his tattoo softly. He softens, raising himself to a sitting position again.

"I'm just as nervous as you are," she confides, her hand over his. "Every day I go to set I'm terrified they'll tell me I'm bad or that they're going to replace me."

"You?" Dieter says in shock. "Yeah right."

"I'm serious," Mia insists. "You're so good, Dieter!  Better than I thought you were."

It's been so long since he heard these words from a colleague. It makes him feel good, makes him feel in control. She's smiling at him and she's so pretty.

"I was so excited to work with you on this," she confides. "And I promise you've exceeded everyone's expectations. Everyone talks about how good you are in this."

"Really?"

"Really."

Dieter is like any actor, he's all ego and hearing her say these sweet, wonderful things is warming him.

Her hand goes to his curls, gently carding her fingers through his hair. Her intention is very clear, she didn't just come here to comfort him. She wants him.  It feels like so long since he's been wanted like this.

He's been good. No parties and until tonight no drugs. No women or men. He's been like a fucking saint. You yourself don't count. You pretty much told him that when he fucked you. So what's the harm in a little playing behind closed doors?

His mouth crashes into Mia's, hands around her back in an instant. She welcomes the kiss with a whimper, her hands circling his waist as he deepens the kiss.

This feels really good. Mia is beautiful and so gentle. She accepts his touches, enjoys how he wraps himself around her. She doesn't pull away like you do.

He pulls her onto his lap, letting her grind against his already aching erection as they continue to kiss. She's got her hands in his hair, gripping and tugging as they kiss. It drives him fucking wild.

His hands go to the button of her jeans but before they can do more, Mia gives a soft laugh, pecking him on the cheek and standing.

"Got carried away."

"I liked it."

"I'll like it more when I know it's not the coke," she tells him honestly.

"It's not."

"Guess we'll find out," she says smiling as she heads for his bedroom door. "I'll see you on set tomorrow then."

"Yeah," Dieter smiles dreamily. "You will."

You don't know what Mia said to Dieter but he's a changed man. For the rest of the month he is on time, professional and sober. Most nights he's over at Mia's rental having dinner (and you assume fucking). He's been very covert, never spending the night, never touching her on set in a way that's not professional.

Last week he began wearing cologne and you notice his customary Crocs are traded in for dress shoes.

"Mia's taking me to this Thai place," Dieter tells you with a smile one evening as you finish up your debrief about the intimacy coordinator scenes next week. "Then we're running lines at her place."

"But that's-" our thing your mind finishes for you. You hold in the frown and just nod, telling him to have a good night as he waves goodbye.

And that's when it starts. This feeling of being left behind.

It's what you wanted.

Yes, you wanted Dieter to stop treating you like a delicate thing. Wanted him to stop smothering you with attention. You wanted him out of your hair so you could stop having to sneak around with Josh.

Except now you sort of miss Dieter.

You miss his annoying way of chewing gum, making it crack against his molars. You miss how he leans over the back of the couch when he walks by and catches you watching something that interests him. You miss how he asks how you're feeling and the delicate way he cups you tummy when you let him.

You even miss the cigarette smell that occasionally clings to his favorite cardigans (although that changes when it begins to make you sick).

You think about inviting Josh over here tonight. So far it's been frantic kissing against pub walls and one remarkably disappointing phone sex experience that left you more frustrated than anything.

You're just so paranoid he's going to be able to tell you're pregnant that you've been holding back.

You walk to the bathroom, having to pee again. For the first time in a while you take a look at yourself. Your clothes are so very baggy and you go to great lengths not to look at your naked body. So when you pull up the t-shirt and stand to the side you're shocked at the difference.

You look pregnant.

Your stomach is pronounced. You can definitely see it swell and the sight takes your breath away. You touch your belly, rolling your hands over it and giggling nervously as you stare at your reflection.

Holy shit. There's a baby in there.

For a while it just looked like you were permanently bloated. But now at five months you can definitely tell this is not a food baby.

You look at yourself a moment longer before pulling out your phone. You rest a hand over your belly, and take a photo of you in the mirror's reflection. You smile serenely, shocked at how natural you look in this pose.

You consider keeping it for yourself but this is a nice memory to share on the app. Dieter loves shit like this and he's been making your life easier as of late. Besides you won't keep this memory. It will be scrubbed from your mind the second the kid is born. No mementos needed. But Dieter deserves them.

You walk back to the main room, hands absently rolling over your stomach. You're asleep on the couch when Dieter arrives shortly thereafter. You feel his hands on your arm, gently nudging you awake. You blink, rubbing the sleep from your eyes to see him standing above you next to the couch. You glance at the clock on the wall.

"Why are you home so early?"

"I saw the app alert," Dieter says breathlessly as if he’s run the entire way home. "I can't believe - can I see? Touch it? Please?"

He came all this way, leaving Mia's early just to see your belly?

You nod with a yawn, lifting the shirt up over your belly. As Dieter takes in the swell of your stomach his eyes blow wide. He drops to his knees beside you on the couch, large hands roving over your expanded flesh.

"Fuck, he's really in there."

"Ultrasound wasn't proof enough?" You tease stretching.

"Photo is one thing but actually seeing this? Feeling it?" He marvels, shaking his head. "Just makes it so real. My baby is in there."

You nod, swallowing. "How was your night?"

"Good," Dieter answers before looking dreamy. "Mia's amazing."

"Mmm."

You watch as he presses an ear to your belly, his eyes closed as he listens. He's listening to the sound of your pregnant belly. Before you can stop him he's turned his head and pressed a soft, tender kiss to the side of your abdomen.

"I love you," he murmurs to your belly, eyes closed. "I love you my little baby. And when I finally meet you I'm gonna spoil you and take you and over the world."

Your heart goes to your throat as you blink back tears.

"You're never gonna go without," he promises quietly. "We're gonna be so happy."

For the first time since this all began you start to imagine Dieter holding his child. A tiny thing with curly hair that gurgles up at him. A mixture of you and the sweet man cradling your belly like its spun glass.

"Are you okay?" Dieter asks, large eyes concerned.

"Yeah, why?"

"You just look upset.”

“Just tired you lie, rubbing at your blotchy face. “Anyway. How was dinner? Must be good since you’ve been hanging with Mia a lot lately.”

“Yeah,” Dieter breathes with a wide grin. “She’s really great.”

“Mmm,” you nod, your attention on the muted television.

"She likes kids," Dieter adds. 

"Oh good," you nod, shuffling your foot anxiously against the coffee table. "That's great, Dieter."

"What do you think of the name Karl-Jose if it's a boy or Mila-Ana if it's a girl?" Dieter asks, his eyes trained on your stomach. "You know, to honor my German and Latin roots." 

"You can name it Lemon-Pillow Bravo for all I care," you answer honestly. You continue looking at the muted TV not really taking in anything, but desperate not to fall into the endless warmth of his eyes.  

As far as you're concerned this kid growing inside you is a job. You're not getting attached. 

"What’s your background?" Dieter asks curiously, his hand still resting on your belly. "That can factor into-"

"Why would it?" You ask frowning. "I'm not any part of this child's life remember?"

Dieter’s face which had been full of such joy moments earlier quickly sobers. 

"Right."

The hand slips from your belly and you watch as he stands, moving to his art room, leaving you in silence as you bite back tears.

"It's TikTok live," you explain for the twentieth time in the last hour as Dieter’ hair stylist heads out the door.  "Its promotion for the comedy you filmed last year, remember? Ninja cowboy?"

Dieter winces as he recalls that drunken nightmare. A job for a friend that went way over budget and way over filming schedule. He knows it's going to be shit which is why he's using Dieter to gain favorable press before the release. 

You glance over to see you employer looking pensively at his breakfast. He's dressed with the clothes his stylist sent over and thanks to his grooming team her in Ireland he looks good in his charcoal sweater and curls brushed back and defined with gel. 

"I hate this stuff," Dieter announces as he takes a bite of toast. "Can't you just do it for me?"

He's tired bags under his eyes that the makeup artist who just left tried to cover to the best of her abilities. 

Dieter was at Mia's late last night going over lines and making out heavily. He's trying to take things slow with her but it’s hard. She's so eager to be with him, never shying from his touches. It feels so good to be wanted. 

"That's not how it...works," you say wincing and putting a hand over your sternum. 

Dieter notices immediately, almost choking on his dry toast in his effort to get to you. His hands fly to your clavicle. 

"You okay?"

"Calm down," you say pushing him gently back away from you. "It's just heartburn."

"I was just trying to help," Dieter mumbles, throwing himself back into his chair. 

It's so frustrating with you sometimes; you blow so hot and cold. It makes him feel unsure and anxious (when he's not turned on out of his mind.) Mia is so much easier and she's so warm all the time. She can also be a bit naive because at her age she doesn't have much life experience. 

Mia loves to hear all about Dieter though, loves to talk about the movies of his she loved watching growing up. Mia hangs on his every word and Dieter can't deny that he loves it. It feels good to be adored.

So then why does he still crave your attention? Why does he flush when your eyes linger on his face? Is it really just that you're carrying his baby or is it something more? 

Even now he feels his heart pick up as you come up sit next to him at the table. 

"If you really wanted to help, you'd focus and get ready because you're going live on the MGM account in like three minutes," you say with frustration, your mouth in a curl of frustration. The baby has been keeping you up lately and its making you feel irritable. 

That and you desperately want Dieter to take you to bed again.

But that can’t happen. The lines are getting too blurred for him, you can see that. Plus you’re pretty sure he’s with Mia and she’s been really good for him over here. You don’t want to screw that up. 

"People will ask you questions here," you say pointing to the phone screen you've set up on the tripod in front of him. "Make sure at least every fourth question ties in to the movie. Release date, co-stars, that kind of stuff. Just don’t Rampart it."

You notice Dieter nodding at you in the phones display along with the large smear of grape jelly at the corner of his mouth. 

"Come there," you say with a roll of your eyes as you turn to him. 

In habit you grab his face, thumb coming to rest on his lower lip to swipe the jelly there as you smile at him in mock exasperation.

Dieter leans forward; eyes never breaking from yours before his mouth comes crashing into yours. His hands are on either side of your neck, pulling you to him.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he rasps against your mouth before pressing his lips to yours more fully once more. This is when you would have pushed from him. But instead your lips parted so he could lick into your mouth, making you whimper. 

At the sound Dieter groans and you realize your hand is carding through his curls, messing them up. 

The beep of your phone alarm goes off startling you both into breaking apart. Dieter pulls back, his dark eyes scanning your wide-eyed gaze. 

"Dieter what-"

Fuck. He read that wrong. He fucking overstepped. Fuck. 

"I'm sorry," Dieter says quickly. "I just thought-"

"-I was getting the jelly off your mouth before the live."

He snatches his hands back as if he's been burnt. 

"That's good. That's great," Dieter stammers before wiping at his mouth with the back of his sleeve. "Better?"

"Yeah, totally," you stammer as you look back at the phone. "Okay, it's starting in two minutes. I'm gonna sit off to the side here in case you get desperate. But for the most part pretend that I'm not here okay?"

Dieter hates doing press, especially when he's somewhere without the guidance of an interviewer. He's so easily distracted, so prone to saying the wrong thing. His PR guy spent the last hour going over his talking points and what to avoid but this just makes Dieter more stressed, convicted he's going to fuck up.

Dieter nods, sitting facing the phone before swallowing and wincing. "Fuck why is my throat so dry?" 

"I'll get you some tea," you offer before you go to the kitchen and start the kettle. You try not to think about how your lips are tingling from the kiss.

Things are getting complicated. This was just supposed to be a release based thing. Nothing about that kiss felt impersonal; in fact it felt decidedly intimate.  Your second alarm goes off, it’s about to go live. You cross the kitchen to stand beside him. 

"Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

You step out of frame before pressing the red button on the phone and motioning to Dieter. 

"Okay, go." 

You walk back to pour the water over the teabag and you can hear Dieter behind you greeting everyone and thanking them for attending. 

You come back to the table with the teacup to see Dieter shooting the phone and then you a stricken look. 

"Jesus," Dieter mutters as streams of text scroll by. "What the... what the fuck do I -"

You roll your eyes off-screen, trying to speak softly to him. You mouth the words exasperatedly. 

"Don’t swear! Just take a deep breath, look at the questions and answer them."

Dieter feels panic overtaking him. There's so many questions, so many names. He feels his heart starting to hammer anxiously. 

"You've got this," you whisper. 

Dieter looks at you and he feels his heartbeat returning to normal. There's something grounding in your expression, the same thing he sees you every time you hold his gaze. That steady, calming presence that tells him he'll be okay. You're the only person who gets to him like that. 

"Okay," he says after a beat and you watch as he transforms into the confident, brash Dieter you've always known. 

"Let's do this shit." He gives a broad, crooked grin to the phone and picks one of the questions at random. "Okay Pdcv2344 asks 'did I enjoy my nude scene in the Colossal Indemnify flick I made."

Dieter lifts a brow and shoots the camera a sardonic look. 

"It was a nude scene with Gal Gadot pretending to ride me. What do you think?"

You roll your eyes and hold in a laugh from where you sit opposite him at the table. He goes on like this several more questions before he clears his throat. You remember the tea steeping at your elbow and fish the bag from the mug. 

You hand him the mug, only your hand showing briefly in the screen. Dieter shoots you a grateful look as he takes it from you. 

"Thanks baby," Dieter murmurs with a smile at you before his attention is drawn back to the scrolling messages. "No, I didn't wear a eyeliner in Cliff Beasts 2."

You feel your face twist into a grimace at the term of endearment used so publicly. You can only hope no one observes or brings it up. Dieter doesn't seem to notice the misstep. He's sipping his tea and answering questions. He seems to be enjoying himself until somewhere in the fifteen minute mark. 

"What the fuck?"

You look up from your phone to see Dieter squinting into the phone. He's confused because digital sunglasses keep whipping over his eyes. 

You raise your brows at him. 

"These sunglasses keep going on my face when I'm trying to talk," Dieter says pointing at the camera. "Is that me? Am I doing that?" 

"Those are gifts," you tell him with a smirk. "They're sending you gifts." 

"Huh? How are fake sunglasses a gift?"

You hold in a giggle at this. Sometimes he really does amuse you. 

"I thought you used TikTok all the time?"

"Not the lives. Are they using their own money for these gifts? Like real money?"

"Yeah."

"Fuck no!"  Dieter frowns at the camera. "Don't send me gifts you guys. I have money. Don't waste yours.”

Dieter frowns when glasses and now a cowboy hat keep appearing digitally. 

"Fuck, now there's a cowboy hat!" 

"Okay well you can turn the gift option off," you tell him trying not to laugh at how stressed he seems. "Just press-"

"Can't you just do it?" Dieter asks, his baleful eyes pleading at you off-screen. "Please? You're so much faster."

You cringe at the thought of being seen but you nod, swinging around into the chair beside him. Dieter glances at you in the reflection of the camera and smiles. 

"Hey everyone, this is my assistant," Dieter tells the crowd introducing and pointing at you as you give an awkward wave. "Best one around. I can't do anything without her."

"It's true," you chirp with a laugh. "I'll be one sec folks; just here for some technical difficulties then you can get back to asking Dieter questions." 

You take a moment to press the buttons disabling the gifts option. Dieter watches you, amused at the flush on your cheeks. You hate being in front of the camera. 

"There you go, no more cowboy hats or sunglasses," you murmur with a soft smile at him that he returns. His eyes drop to your mouth a moment before he nods. 

"Thanks," Dieter murmurs with a smile, watching you slide back to the opposite side of the table, sure not to let anyone see your belly. 

Dieter drags his eyes away from you to look back at the questions. 

"Hey, Granguy66 wants to know if you're single," Dieter says with a waggle of his brows in your direction. "What should I say?" 

You swallow, feeling suddenly strange. You know it's a joke, a laugh. But you feel odd replying in earnest. You decide on your response and deliver it with a grin. 

"Say that Ninja Cowboy is coming to theatres this Friday so they better buy their tickets now." 

[2:44 pm] JOSH: Thought you'd want to see this. Mia said to send it to you.

It's a photo of the cast of the film smooshed in the back of a carriage. Everyone is laughing. Dieter's hair is brushed and he's got a grinning Mia Rowe tightly against him, leaning over his lap to make sure the photographer can see her.

Dieter looks happy and relaxed and the sight of it makes you smile at the photograph. But at the same time it makes your stomach twist uncomfortably.

[2:45 pm] Thanks for sending this. Glad to see he's doing well.

[3:11 pm] Mia says that she and D are going to dinner tonight. He wanted me to tell you he forgot his phone and can you charge it?

[3:14pm] Of course he did. Yeah, I’ll charge it and have it ready for him before dinner. Can you tell him?

[3:14 pm] He’s asking if the rental needs more Bubble bath?? Wtf?

You smirk to yourself. Your check in code.

[3:14pm] Dieter just really loves baths. Tell him we’re all good here. All stocked up. 

You glance down at your silenced phone and frown when you realize you've missed a call from your mother back home and guilt goes through you. You've been going all over Ireland, having amazing sex with Dieter and being distracted. You just send her texts and photos and the occasional email. 

Your mother picks up on the second ring. 

"Hi honey."

"Hey mom," you bite the inside of your cheek. "Sorry I haven't called lately."

"Oh that's no problem," your mom assures you. "I know you're busy. I just wanted to know if you're doing okay today."

Something in her tone stops your feet. The way she says ‘today.’

"Why wouldn't I be?"

There's a heavy pause then your mother's soft voice. "It's your father's birthday."

A feeling like a punch to the gut makes you wince. You erased it from your calendar, not wanting the reminder. But of course she hasn’t forgotten, wants you to remember them.  You worked so hard not to think about these milestones with your dad gone but your mom seems to fixate on them. 

"Right."

"Are you lighting a candle?"

"I will tonight." 

"Good."

Your mother is big on lighting candles for those you've lost. She started with your grandparents and now your dad. It makes you sick looking at those flickering flames. Tears are starting at the corner of your eyes and a few PA's walk by giving you a friendly wave that you mirror weakly. 

"Mom I have to go. I'm needed on set."

You hang up before she can say more but instead of the set you head for the shuttle. You don't want to be here anymore. You don’t want to think.

You want to forget. You want to pretend that you're fine. You want a distraction. 

You push into the rental a short while later, your back and feet aching, your eyes swollen from suppressing tears into the cuff of your jacket. You need to just relax and forget about the world a moment, feel comforted.

You run yourself a bath, the scent of coconut bubbles filling the room. You strip down and slip into the bath, relishing in the warm water that surrounds you. You inhale deeply, cherishing the comfort of the coconut scent and gently lapping water. You turn the faucet off when it reaches just below your collarbone.

Your mind is busy though, despite the serene surroundings. You grab your phone next to the tub on the counter and settle back into the bubbles. You should be productive since you’re still technically on the clock.

For some reason the photo of Dieter and Mia is playing in your mind over and over. You click on instagram, searching up Mia's name and finding it there with its blue checkmark. She posts the normal things young women her age do; her doing yoga, shots of her at sunset, coffee drinking with friends, her dressed up for the Oscars. You're about to close out of the account before you see that she's posted something to her story. You click on it, feeling your breath leave you.

Her blonde head is on his shoulder and he's making one of his classic weird smirks at the camera she's holding up in front of them. She's written "This guy just makes me laugh all day" and tagged his account that he hasn't updated in months.

They look so... close.

You don't want to look at it anymore. You close out of the app and open up Reddit instead. You scroll into the Dieter Bravo subreddit. A habit you haven't indulged in for weeks due to distraction. The top post however has your eyes flying open.

Dieter Bravo secret affair?  5K upvotes, 4.8 replies.

Fuck have they learned about Mia’s crush on Dieter? Or is this all speculation like it was when Dieter was photographed with Bad Bunny? You click on the link, reading the paragraph starting the discussion and feel your heart clench.

Dieter Bravo is totally in love with his assistant. Look at these screenshots from his live. 

One is you in the frame, focused on getting Dieter to understand the mechanics of the live gift feature before you're turning it off and one is when you just finished explaining gifts to him. He's got his 

You can't help but feel your cheeks heating at the sight. While you were busy trying to help Dieter with his phone it seems he was busy staring at you. 

And then there's the screenshot of your hand in frame handing Dieter his teacup. And the subtitle underneath: thanks baby. 

You sort the comments by top, eyes scanning the thousands of comments in the discussion.   

Holy shit the way he looks at her. 

I heard he's dating some guy in Germany

How old is she?

My friend signed an NDA but she told me that Dieter totally fucked her in his hotel room after doing coke off her tits. 

You can't tell me he's not smitten

He’s not the type to settle down so I hope she doesn’t fall too hard

He looks so hawt there

It's giving soulmates

She's cute! I hope they're happy together.

She's his employee!!!!! Stop being gross and assuming based on nothing!!!

Get urself a guy who looks at you like that

He called her baby. BABY. I'm fucking feral. 

I love him your honor.

They're clearly fucking

She dresses like shit

This is how my husband looked at me during our first date. Fifty two years and three kids later he still looks at me that way. 

For some reason this is the comment that stills your fingers. 

You re-read it and your pathetic hormone-filled mind creates a tapestry of a future you’ll never have. One of you and Dieter older, watching your child playing in the pool. Dieter is looking at you with adoration as you press a kiss to his waiting mouth.  

Stop it stop it stop it.

You need to forget this. You turn on your music, finding a blasting piece by NIN and let it overwhelm  your brain. Your head tilts back against the tub, your eyes falling shut. In this moment you feel your mind fixed on the music, you feel your muscles releasing. You just want to stay in this moment forever…

“Hey you in there?”

Your eyes jolt open to see that the sky outside the small window is dark and the water you sit in is tepid. How long were you out for? You glance at the door with blurry eyes, hearing the gentle knock turning urgent and Dieter fumbling with the knob.

“Hey are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you call out, scrambling out of the tub and tugging on a robe. “Sorry, yeah I fell asleep.”

You twist the knob open and look at him towering over you in the doorframe, his dark eyes heavy with worry.

“What’s going on? You okay?”

“Just tired,” you say about to say more when your eyes fly open in realization.

“Shit! I forgot to plug your phone in!” you say, moving past him to plug it in now in the kitchen where he left it. He inhales the scent of coconut from your skin as you sail by and feels his stomach twist pleasurably.

He watches you fumbling to plug the charger in and it flashes green, showing its charging. It’ll be a bit before it’s finished though. Fuck, you only have the one job here in Ireland; be Dieter’s assistant. You fought so hard to keep your job and you’re completely fucking it up these days.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Hey hey,” Dieter grabs your elbow, noting the sheen to your eyes. “What’s going on?”

“Just a shitty day,” you say sighing heavily. “I’m really sorry about the phone.”

“Fuck the phone,” Dieter says with a shrug. His dark eyes are scanning your face. He can see that you’re upset. “I wanna know what has you so upset.”

He sounds so earnest, like he actually cares. Sometimes it’s hard to forget that he’s a really good actor.

“Nothing,” you insist with a false smile. “I got some of your dress shirts sent back from the cleaners. They’re hung in your closet in case you want to change. And uh-“

Your words falter as you look up into Dieter’s face to see him staring at you with an unfocussed look in his eyes. He’s staring at your chest and you glance down to see the deep vee of the robe has exposed much of your cleavage.

The realization should embarrass you, but if anything it makes your breathing come out shallow. The familiar thrumming is back between your legs, making you press your thighs together tightly. Dieter observes this, eyes moving shrewdly from your hips back to your face.

"You need some help," Dieter says huskily and it isn't a question. His hands are already at your waist, thumbs hovering over the sash of your plush robe.

"No...I...."

"I told you if you need release you come to me," Dieter murmurs. "Anytime you need it."

"But your dinner with Mia," you tell him worriedly.

"You come first," he says without thinking. His hands have already begun untying your robe. His eyes dart to your face. "If you want it."

"Yeah," you nod, feeling overcome. "Yeah, I want it."

The second the words leave your mouth he's tugging your robe open

You easily succumb to Dieter's mouth and hands and it's not long before he has you beneath him in his large bed, both of you naked and writhing in the expensive sheets. He's already made you come with his mouth and now his cock hits deliciously deep. 

"I can't.... You're so fucking wet," he breathes into your mouth, eyes fixed on yours as you gaze up at him. "So fucking tight." 

"Dieter," you groan, allowing him to suck your tongue into his mouth. He kisses as deeply as he fucks before pulling back and brushing the hair from your face looking at your kiss-swollen lips and heavy lidded eyes. 

"You're so gorgeous when you let go," he murmurs gently, his hips moving lazily over yours. 

You don't want to look in his eyes for too long. It makes it too intimate so you touch your forehead to his. The two of you watch where he enters you, soaked in your arousal. Your belly protrudes deliciously and Dieter realizes that this may be the last time he can fuck you in this position.

"We look so good," Dieter groans, brows saddling. You can't reply, your eyes are cheating to the back of your head now because the pleasure is building. 

He fucks you hard into the mattress moaning into the crook of your neck all manner of vulgarities. You cling to him; arms wrapped so tightly around his neck you worry you're suffocating him. But he's not complaining, he's kissing your neck, hips rolling against yours. 

The only sound in the room is your combined panting and the sound of his flesh hitting yours as he withdraws and sheaths himself completely over and over and when he comes he does so holding your body tightly to his. 

"You didn't come," he pants with a frown. He can tell. He didn't feel that sweet fluttering and clench around his cock. He wants it. 

"I didn't care about that," you tell him, kissing him gently. "I just wanted... I just wanted to feel you."

You can't explain it better than that but Dieter doesn't press you. He looks at you with a serious look before nodding and withdrawing from you. You go to leave the bed and go to your room but Dieter holds you to him. 

"Stay here a little longer,” he huffs gently against your earlobe.

In this bed you won't be alone. You won't have to distract yourself in your room. You won’t have to think about the bad things.  

"Okay."

You’ve forgotten about his date with Mia. Forgotten about everything awful with your Dad. All you feel and think right now is about Dieter and how good he smells and feels wrapped around you.

Dieter feels how you relax into his arms, something you’ve never really done. Just laying with you here in his bed, in sheets that will now smell of you has his heart aching instead of his cock. He could do this for hours, just holding you.

“Would it really be insane?” Dieter asks before he can stop himself, his voice huffing along the back of your neck. “I mean, you’re carrying my kid. Would us being together-“

Panic overtakes you. What the fuck is he suggesting? This is exactly why you didn’t want this to happen. Dieter is such a romantic at heart, so easily swayed if he’s fucked someone. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. And you refuse to be another phase for Dieter, even if he doesn’t know that’s what he is going through.

“Dieter I’m your employee,” you snap, interrupting him. “And after this baby is out of me I won’t even be in the same city as you.”

Dieter feels his body go tense. “Since when?”

“Since I agreed to do this for three hundred thousand dollars,” you inform him. You can practically hear the wheels turning in Dieter’s head as you say this.

“What does that matter?”

“I’m going to pay off my mom’s mortgage and I’m going back to school in Sacramento.”

“Wait, what the fuck? Sacramento? Since when?”

Suddenly the bed feels oppressive and Dieter’s arms feel constricting. You pull away from him, going to grab your robe. He watches your body move from the bed, a vessel of fertility and beauty and mystifying frustration.

“Wait, can’t we talk about this?”

“No,” you say sharply, tying the sash around your waist. “Dieter we talked about this being a release-based system. Not a romantic relationship.”

Dieter feels as if he’s been slapped.

“What about Mia? She’s waiting for you at some restaurant right now.” You glance at the clock before crossing your arms over your chest. “If you leave here now you can still make dessert.”

“You want me to go?”

“You should.”

A coldness enters Dieter’s eyes at that bitten off reply and he nods before pulling himself from the warmth of the bed. You watch him move through the room in his boxers, closing the door behind him with a firm finality. 

[Personal Diary D. Bravo – 21 weeks]

Places I want to take Baby Bravo

Chile (show him where I grew up)

Disneyland (when he’s old enough)

London: maybe he’ll get an accent

Fiji – mini island (no paps)

Places I want to take her

Chile

Hawaii –

Buenos Aires (teach her tango)

Italy (she loves pizza)

Anywhere she wants

Today Dieter is filming in Powerscourt.

You are pacing outside the set; far away enough that you won't disturb filming as you finish up a phone call with Diane back home, setting up a sponsorship meeting that Dieter is in the running for. You hang up the phone just as you wander around the back garden of the palatial estate they’ve rented for this scene.

You’re about to turn back and head inside, your feet are getting swollen these days. But movement catches your eyes and you pause.

Two figures are tucked away behind the building; Mia leaning back against the wall, eyes tilted up coquettishly as she takes a puff of the cigarette. Dieter has one palm flat against the wall above her shoulder, angling himself towards her. 

You can't hear what they're saying to one another but you watch them both laugh passing the cigarette between themselves. It reminds you of the teens in high school who would sneak off at lunch, sharing smokes in secrecy. 

It feels intimate, like something you shouldn't see. You watch him smile at her, his dark eyes soft as he moves his lips to hers and you hold your breath as she meets him halfway, mouth pressing against his. 

You know what that mouth feels like. Soft and strong. Tasting of whiskey or cigarettes or that mint gum he's always chewing. You feel a longing sigh escape you. 

You feel something in your gut twisting and you realize it must be the baby. You turn away before you have to watch anymore of this, your face in a grim line. You take a seat back inside on the set, wincing as the staff go to retrieve Dieter and Mia from outside.

The two of them come back onto the set with secret smiles on their faces.

“Hey,” Dieter says coming to squeeze your shoulder gently. “Did you get a hold of Diane?”

“Yep,” you force a smile on your face. “She wants us all to face time later tonight.”

“I might have plans,” Dieter murmurs, his eyes sailing to Mia getting her lipstick touched up. She feels his gaze on her and casts a small smile in his direction.

You feel a sickening sensation in your gut and you clear your throat, trying to come off as casual. You twist the ring on your finger, the one he gave you, and try not to look upset.

“We’ll work around your schedule.”

The scene begins as Mia wanders into the library to see Dieter in a drunken rage before he grabs a chair and throws it brutally through a mirror. You watched that scene being filmed a few weeks ago, but this is the second part.

You watch the power in his shoulders and muscles twisting under his lawn shirt as he throws the chair off-screen. He spins back around; dark eyes fixed on a cowering Mia dressed in a flimsy nightdress who backs enticingly against a bookcase. 

“And now,” Dieter drawls, his voice husky. “I get what’s mine.”

He goes to Mia, gripping her by the back of the neck and kissing her fiercely. Mia feigns horror, trying to back away from him, but all too soon her arms are coming to wrap around his neck as he grips her thigh, urging it around his waist.

You can’t watch this.

You slide off the chair and head to the shuttle, needing to go back to the rental.

When the director calls cut shortly after and Dieter’s eyes rise to where you were sitting, he's deflated to see the chair empty. 

#dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo #dieter x reader #dieter bravo smut #pedro pascal dieter #fanfics #pedro pascal fanfiction

[sim0nril3y]

Your Flat

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Scenario: It's date night and Simon invites himself over to your flat to pick you up and he finally sees that chaos that you're living in, along with your artwork. Note: Set in 2014 Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), teasing, smut, P in V, Simon being his usual guarded self, canon-typical swearing.

Friday night. It was date night – something one night that you had jokingly called it and now it had begrudgingly become part of his own vocabulary too. It was now the thing in the week that Simon was beginning to look forward to the most. There had been no conversation of commitment but Simon knew that he liked spending time with you. Actually, you were consuming his mind outside of spending date nights with you. Deep down a voice continued to tell him that this was all a bad idea and that your safety was being risked but that voice was beginning to become more and more quiet as each day passed.

This would be the first time that Simon would see your flat. It had been the only thing you had been fairly secretive about. Rapping his knuckles loudly against the door Simon smirked to himself as he heard a flurry of sound from behind it. It swung open swiftly and witnessed you rushing in the opposite direction down the hallway, minus a few items of clothes. “You’re early!” That had been intentional, otherwise you’d had met him in the carpark and he’d never been able to set foot in your flat. “Come in!” You coaxed from your bedroom.

Entering your flat Simon was instantly overwhelmed by the sheer chaos of the place. It was small but it was full of clutter and art supplies, they were littering almost every surface. There was laundry slung over every door and radiator, hanging off the backs of chairs and on hangers over doorways, interestingly every place but the airer designed for it which was instead housing some of your drying canvas’. “Jesus, kid…”

“I didn’t realise I’d have company!” You hollered from your bedroom, sounding breathless behind the door, bumping into objects and fussing over trying to find something appropriate to wear. "I'm sorry!" You tagged on quickly.

In your lounge area there was one particular space that caught his attention. There were stacks of canvas’ placed against one another, an old looking easel, rows of different paints and brushes. Oh, so this must have been where you created your artwork and those canvas’ must have been the finished pieces. Simon took great care as he stepped into that little shrine and began to inspect them. It wasn’t like he understood art anyway. Looking at some pieces made him feel certain ways. It was invoking emotions – wasn’t that what art was supposed to do? Fuck, he wasn’t some connoisseur but he could see that you were very talented. “Right, I’m-” Your flustered frame bound around the corner still mid putting your heel on and cutting you sentence short as you spotted Simon in your ‘art studio’. “Oh, you found my art…”

Simon was careful in returning the canvas’ how he had found them and turned to you. “It was about the only thing I could find in here…” There was a tell-tale look of embarrassment that flashed across your features as you rolled your eyes. “You are a messy pup…” He commented taking a few steps in your direction and quirking a brow down at you, as if waiting for some explanation.

“I-It isn’t usually this bad…” There was so much defensiveness to your tone, attempting to rack your brain for some reasonable excuse for your flat being in such a state. “I woke up and I had this massive spark that I just knew I needed to get onto canvas… right, I’m not making excuses…. God, I know I must sound so stupid…. I’m not making a whole lot of sense, but-” “Kid, enough.” His firm tone commanded, reaching up and tugging you gently in his direction. “Honestly, I couldn’t care less if your flat is messy…” You let out a relieved puff of air. “As long as mine doesn’t end up the same way, I’m fine with it.” A bright smile found your lips. “What time did you say our table is booked for?”

His eyes narrowed softly as he felt your dainty fingers dancing along his belt. “Babe…” It was a warning. “What?” There was such false innocence to your tone and that was what finally made him snap.

It seemed very clear that your IKEA bedframe wasn’t up to the task of being fucked on. It creaked and cracked dangerously with each thrust into your trembling frame, the headboard was clattering against the wall so much that Simon wondered if he should put a pillow behind it to try and save your poor neighbours ears. All this whilst you whine and whimpered beneath him, clearly unaware of all this commotion. It appeared that all that consumed your mind was the way he perfectly stretched your tight walls to accommodate his girthy cock.

With one particularly strong crack beneath him Simon grumbled out. “M’gonna break your fuckin’ bed…” It earned a fit of giggles from you that mixed with a soft load of whimpers. “Fuck off. I’m being serious.” Even he could fight the small smirk before finally deciding to save your poor bed anymore stress.

Instead, his arms wound around your frame. “Fuckin’… c’mere…” His cock still buried deep within your walls as he rose from the bed and placed you against the closest surface. There wasn’t any hesitation from there, Simon began to fuck into your wet cunt with reckless-abandon. This time he was far more confident that he would be able to do any structural damage to your home. There wasn’t any way that he’d be able to knock down a loadbearing wall from fucking alone. “My good girl~”

Rushing from your flat once they had cleaned up and resituated the majority of their clothes. You were speaking your worries about the possibility of missing the table whilst trying to work your key into the dodge lock barrel, it didn’t escape your knowledge your grumpy old neighbour Peter was lingering outside smoking over the balcony and observing the estate below him. “These flats have thin walls, you know…” He muttered lowly and Simon narrowed his eyes as you struggled with the lock, cursing softly under your breath.

“Bad enough I have to listen to that shit you call music, but now I have to listen to you fucking too-” “That’s enough.” Simon growled out at him causing Peter to look in his direction furious. By luck the key finally spun and you were quick to be by Simon’s side, taking his hand and beginning to drag him past Peter and away from the possibility of an altercation.

As you got further away from Peter, you finally decided you could laugh softly, looking at Simon and saying. “You don’t have to fight every prick that says something stupid to us…” Taking your hand he tugged you close and pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead. “How else are they gonna learn not to be disrespectful to you.” He watched the way that your eyes filled with such adoration. “Now get your arse moving before I end up fucking you in the stairwell just to prove a point to that twat…”

Masterlist | Ask | 05-09-2023

#simon riley x oc #simon riley x reader #ghost x oc #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x you #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley cod #simon riley x y/n #ghost #ghost x y/n #ghost x you #ghost smut #simon riley smut

[darlingsfandom]

Don’t you trust your neighbor ?

Jackson Rippner x neighbor reader!

TW: Degradation, humiliation , swearing, p in v unprotected , possession , male orgasm, slight bondage !

“Oh fuck me!” You cried out as you dropped your keys on the sidewalk. Today has been the day from hell. You woke up late which meant you were late for work, you forgot lunch so picked something up and of course it was burnt, you spilled your drink on your clothes, the printer in the office ran out of ink and you needed your papers printed but nothing was done! On the way home you got cut off in traffic and were done! You just wanted to be home.

And here you were standing there looking at the ground with a look of defeat. When you bent down to pick up your keys a loud rip rang in your ears . “WHAT THE FUCK!” You screamed as your blood boiled.

“Well from here it’s a nice view.” You quickly turned around to see your neighbor Jackson standing there with a smirk on his lips and his mail in his hands.

“Not now Jackson! It’s been a day and if murder wasn’t illegal …” His laugh caught you off guard.

“Oh sweetheart, you couldn’t hurt a fly. Yeah you’re having a bad day and loosing your temper but you’re such a sweetheart.” He was face to face with you before he grabbed your keys off the ground. As he looked up he took a peek up your ripped skirt and bit his lip.

“But tell me this … why are your panties wet? I seen that little spot. It’s cute actually.” His tongue wiped across his lips making you straighten up. You turned on your heel and quickly walked up to your porch but he still had your keys. You sighed and turned only for Jackson to be right there. He seemed different. “Can’t get very far now can you? How fucking stupid are you huh?” You swallowed the lump in your throat as he stood chest to chest with you while unlocking your front door. He shoved you inside and slammed the door shut behind him as you walked backwards until you were against the wall.

Both of you stood in silence until he reached forward and gripped your arms. “You never answered my question ? How stupid are you huh? Couldn’t get yourself to work on time, can’t drive on the free way, dropping your keys… god you have to be the dumbest brat I’ve ever seen.” Jackson pulled you away from the wall before putting you on your knees. You looked at him with pleading eyes. You went from pissed off at the universe to fearing for your life. Yes you found Jackson attractive , yes you’ve had dinners with him and shared a few kisses but never more than that.

“What’s the matter honey? Don’t you trust your neighbor ? I was just trying to help you. You fucking ripped your skirt and flashed everyone those panties just like desperate slut you are. About gave Mr.Johnson a heart attack! Poor old man, I’m sure you’d fuck him too because you’re just so needy for cock!” He stroked your hair in a loving manner while talking down to you leaving you confused and needy. Jackson pulled on your hair making your head go back until your mouth hung open he leaned down and spit in your mouth making you whine which was music to his ears. He smirked at your reaction.

“You enjoyed that, don’t deny it you fucking whore.” He spat in your mouth again before giving you a slap across the face. Jackson reached down and ripped open your blouse making buttons fly across the room before he pulled you back to your feet , grabbed your hands and took you into your room. He pushed you onto your bed and straddled your hips as he took his belt off before tying your hands together with it. You cried off your eyeliner and your lip stick was smeared from his kisses.

“See I knew you were a good little slut, but just for me! You’re mine! You’ve been mine! Ever since we met I knew I had to make you mine. When you moved in and were tying to be Miss Little Betty Crocker and brought those cookies as a way to introduce yourself… wearing that little dress with the cherries on it… you were begging me to fuck you! But I’m a gentleman couldn’t fuck you then. Now , now I’m tired of the games! You are mine you dumb little bitch! SAY IT!” You screamed at you while slapping your tits as your hands stayed tied above your head.

All you could do was sob. Jackson slapped you harder making you jolt forward. “say you’re mine!” He squeezed your cheeks together making you look at him with your bloodshot eyes. Your lips parted chocking on your saliva before the words finally came out.

“I’m yours Jackson. I’m yours.” You whimpered and wiggled below him . Jackson stood up and stared at you before dropping his pants. You watched as he pulled out his cock and when it sprang up your jaw dropped .

“Dumb cock whore.” He yanked you by your ankles before climbing back on top of you. His fingers hooked into your panties and ripped them off. He took a sniff before looking at you. “Smells so sweet for being such a needy whore.” He tossed the fabric over his shoulder before lining the head of his aching cock against your folds.

“Jackson!!” You cried out as he inched his cock into your wet cunt.

“That’s it baby, scream my name.” His hands held your arms down as he pulled back out before quickly slamming his hips back down and shoving his cock into you. You closed your eyes but he didn’t like that. Jackson grabbed a fist full of your hair and bent you forward to look down and watch his cock fuck you hard! You whined in pain from the position he had you in. Jackson used you as his little fuck toy. He was whimpering your name as your cunt squeezed his cock. You tried to look away again but he wouldn’t allow it. Jackson pounded into like his life was going to end tomorrow. He started to slow do when he felt his orgasm building.

“Gonna put a baby in you! Yeah! Gonna make sure everyone knows that you belong to me! You’re my dumb slut who can’t keep her legs closed which is why she’s pregnant with her neighbors baby!!” He squeezed your arms as his hips started to slow down.

“Please no! Jackson !” You cried out as he filled you up with his warm seed. You collapsed when he let go of you. Jackson pulled out and took some of the cum dripping out of your pussy and flung it on to your face. You gasped at the feeling making him chuckle.

“Don’t worry honey….” He stoped closer to you before brushing his lips against yours. “The night is still young, you’ll get more than you bargained for .”

#jackson rippner red eye #Jackson Rippner #jackson rippner smut #Cillian Murphy #Cillian Murphy smut

[aizawasbrazybaby]

❥𓂃𓏧 If you let me

𖦹Warnings: fem!reader, p in v sex, smoking, mentions of sex work, pet names (ex. Baby) , Dom!Yami x sub!Reader

𖦹Word Count: 1.4k

🫧: Hope everyone had a good new year🫶🏾sorry for the late post and any errors

Summaryᐕ Captain Yami walks in on the crews biggest prude trying to please herself…

“A bit scandalous, no?” you muttered.

Your eyes fixed on the figure in the mirror. A pink long sleeved shirt, that happened to be snug enough to accentuate your large breasts, wrapped your torso. Below, a white and pink plaid flounce skirt stopped inches above the knee.

“Scandalous my ass!” Vanessa shouted, “you’re a black bull not some fuckin child librarian it’s okay to show some skin. Live a little.”

Turning your back to the mirror you gasped quietly. Heat rushed to your face and just as swiftly your hands covered your ass that poked out too much.

“Absolutely not!”, you pressed your back to the mirror checking that none of the guys were around, “this is far to risqué! I need a cardigan better yet I’ll just put on my usual attire.”

Noelle scoffed with her arms folded tight, “the dark corduroys that make you look like an old hag not happening. You need to loosen up and stop being so modest.”

“M’not,” you said more to yourself.

“Really? You had us wait almost an hour when we took a trip to the beach last month because you didn’t want to put on a bikini,” Magna spat entering the room with Yami. His eyes roamed your body as he listened to his junior. By then your face nearly stung from the heat. You held onto your shoulders as if shielding your exposed breast from his hungry eyes. More self aware and self conscious than before.

“What Miss Vanessa had to offer was no more than a mere pile of jumbled up string and cloth patches not swim wear.” You spat through gritted teeth, “I would have stayed with the novels in my chamber if I knew this was what I was walking into.” Putting out an old cigarette the captain pushed the burning side into a black ashtray that had the logo. You stopped mid march back to your part of the hideout at his assertive tone. His words smashing bits of your heart.

“You could use an upgrade. You walk around here lookin like a grandma who gave up on herself. The least you could do is change your wardrobe.” Yami grunted with a chuckle. The whites in your eyes blackened as they narrowed in on him. With that he knew to drop the banter. Knowing there would be no financial benefit in having yet another “accident.”

“The hell do you know old man,” your voice was like venom.

The heavy door slammed behind you locking automatically. Your knees hit the floor of the bedside as a sob ripped through your body. Cries muffled as your face shoved into the mattress and your hands caressed the cotton sheets. Aching echoed in your chest as it always did when he made those snide remarks. Those stupid fucking jokes.

Too sensitive, too rule abiding, too by the book, too much of a goody two shoes to even notice

You were so sick of hearing it all but you couldn’t go back to the way you were. Before the Black Bulls. Before the grimoire. He knew what you were. The things you did to survive yet he still sang those hurtful words. At one point you were convinced he actually forgot about your past and why he really recruited you.

Tap tap tap

“Screw off!”

Yami was the only person to use his fingertips instead of knocking like any normal person would.

“Why do you always take shit so personal?” He sighed.

Silence.

“I know you’re in there, don't ignore me.”

Again there was nothing from your end.

“Speak or I’m coming in, that's an order,” he hand tightened around the door knob.

“Leave me alone captain,” you said hardly above a whisper. You didn’t bother lifting your head from the initial spot.

“I’m sorry.” A genuine apology. His footsteps echoed from your door down the hall until they disappeared behind his. It felt like hours passed by at lightning speed. The sun that once sat in a blue sky left it in a variety of pinks and orange. You dared to peek over your arm to adjust your vision to the lights in the bright room. The clothes you wore were cautiously peeled off.

Eyes gawked at the sight in the mirror. Wearing the borderline non-existent undergarments the girls gifted for your birthday. Cranberry red thongs made of pure silk with a matching push up bro that covered no more than the tip of your areola. There was only one way you knew how to drown the pain.

With pleasure.

Toys of different varieties, sizes and uses dropped on a pillow. Choosing two you lubed up the flame printed butt plug and inserted it. A low hum vibrated in your throat. Something you received from your favorite client. The sweet stretch reminding you of the first time Fuegoleon’s thick cock barreled its way into you. How he introduced you to anal play.

“Fuck,” you swore plopping down atop the clear dildo. Trying to remember how sex with another human felt. Imagining that it was Yami’s pretty cockhead you were screwing yourself on and not some stupid piece of silicone. Alas it didn’t work. Not this time nor last time or the time before that. Masterbation was a skill set you never mastered. As someone who used to get railed for money you relied on others to give you orgasms.

A growl of irritation rumbled in the room as the back of your head sunk in the pillow. Legs still spread wide open.

Why was it always so hard to please yourself?

You plunged the toy back in your pussy thinking of him, the captain's name spilling from your mouth repeatedly as the excitement pulled to your core. So close, your walls fluttered around the thing.

“Ready to talk-” Yami stood in the door frame wide eyed. His cigarette fell to the floor from between his lips. The door automatically shut behind him from any other onlookers. “Is this why…I heard you calling for me..”

Pure humiliation. That’s the only way to put it.

“Yami,” you searched your brain for words, “please.” He knew what you meant. Knew you’d been avoiding sex like it was the plague. Avoiding any man who showed you the slightest bit of interest. Knew you felt dirty for wanting to be touched.

“I can’t do it alone,” you whispered, “but I, Captain..”

“You did what you had to,” his fingertips trailed up your legs stopping between your thighs making you shudder, “it doesn’t make you a bad person.”

His fingers replaced the dildo and you swore for a minute you saw stars. Moans found their way out. “When I found you all bloody in that alleyway I knew I had to take you in,” his fingers made contact with that spot that had your eyes rolling back. And when his thumb rubbed circles on your clit, “I had to protect you.”

Your release was beyond shattering. Causing you to clench around his fingers, loosen up and clench once more.

“You deserve to be loved too,” his lips met yours as he climbed over you, “loved on.” He said lowly nipping at your ear.

“Yami..please,” was all you could muster. Hands unbuttoning his tented pants. His cock sprung to his belly button upon release. “Need you now.”

“I know baby I know,” he fixed himself between your legs thrusting inside you. Just sex you told yourself. He just wanted sex.

He didn’t.

It was always you he wanted. Got himself off too. Pictured bearing his offspring. Even if you did have an awful sense of style to blanket your promiscuous past.

He pulled back excruciatingly slow driving his hips back into you. “You feel so good,” he kissed your neck, “look so pretty.” He fucked into you harder and the sounds of your cries only confirmed he had you getting closer to cumming.

Yami threw your legs over his shoulders thrusting uncontrollably. Only slowing down when you tightened around his cock leaving your cream at the base of it. Rocking his body into yours until he pulled out sliding between your thighs as he nutted on your stomach.

His thumb grazed over your bottom lip. Blush pouring over his face and chest. You watched his lips move as he mumbled your name and your heart skipped a beat at what he said after.

“Yes.” You answered with a smile creeping across your mouth.

#black clover x black reader #black clover x poc reader #black reader #Yami x black reader #Yami x poc reader #yami x reader #black women #brown skin #dark skin #light skin #poc reader #black clover #captain yami

[scarletevening]

blood & tears [ könig ]

this is j because @sixxslut asked for an elaboration [ which was a while ago but i didn't see the notify :( ] and i've been WAITING for this day.

cw: v suggestive, foul language, fem!reader, also this a complete ramble.

elaboration; he looks at those scratches every single day, and every single time hes inside you he begs you to do ti again, drag your tiny little hands across his back, take those nails he makes sure are manicured and dig them into his muscle, make him feel that wild exhilaration he so desperately needs. oh and he never ever leave for a mission without your marks, to flaunt to every man who ever is around him that he has an adorable little woman waiting for him at home, that he fucks he so well his back has scars from a different kind of adrenaline.

every time he comes home, even if he just had a day trip to the city, because he refuses to live there when he can live in a nice suburban house with you, fuck you stupid without any noise complaints like you had at the first apartment you two shared. what my point was, is that every time he comes home, he makes sure to renew your marks, your emblem on his back.

and he loves- i mean fucking loves to train without his shirt. loves seeing those new damn recruits fawn over his expansive figure, their eyes lingering on the blushing lines on his back, on his biceps. sure, he'll wear his balaclava, he'll keep his blue eyes matching to their ice cold colour, but never will he hide the marks of his lover.

oh god and every time he misses you? fuck, he thinks about the way you marked him, they way you begged him to make you his, to pump you full of his seed. every though made blood rush to anywhere but his head, the sharp sounds of his belt buckle being forced away from his pants, his heavy breath heating up at his heartbeat fills his ears.

and he never feels guilty. why should he? you are his. you're the one who has the marks of his teeth across your thighs, your neck, your breasts, you're the one that he comes home to, you're the one who lets him fuck you how and when as he pleases. so just as he does at home, the view he sees as he looks over from his shoulder, the old darker lines, so itty bitty on his broad shoulder, the new, blood red, blushing across his pale, european skin, is all his.

ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

drooling. also that reply came in like AUGUST?? and i didn't see it until today, so sorry about seeing it so late.

pt.1 / original post

directory

#ao3 #ao3 author #drabble #cod #suggestive #cod mw2 #cod könig #könig #könig x reader #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig smut #könig call of duty #call of duty #konig mw2 #konig cod #konig #konig smut #konig x reader #konig x you #cod konig #konig call of duty #konig modern warfare #cod fanfic #cod mwii #cod modern warfare #cod x reader #mw2 #call of duty fanfic #call of duty modern warfare 2

[earlgreydream]

𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐥. | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐤𝐲𝐥𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: overwhelmed by sexual tension with your stepbrother, until your best friend suggests giving in. 3.4k

𝐜𝐰: stepcest, drinking, kylo being a perv, sex while intoxicated

𝐚/𝐧: okay i promised @little-diable that i would finish this like 2.5 months ago but then life got out of control for a second. i know it's been a long time since i've posted, and i hope this makes up for it

“He’s cute!” Your friend whispered, smirking as she twisted a lock of dark hair around her finger.

“He is my new stepbrother. And he’s an asshole,” you sighed from behind your mirrored, heart-shaped sunglasses.

Kylo’s gaze broke away from his friends to rest on you, admiring your body in your tiny yellow bikini. Dark eyes studied your form, the curve of your hip bones and the way the fabric hugged your chest.

“Kylo, your new sister is a real piece of ass. Watch out, I could become your stepbrother,” Vicrul laughed, encouraged by the other boys’ amusement.

“Shut the fuck up about her!”

Kylo shoved his friend, one of those you unaffectionately referred to as ‘his gang’ — part of the group that were always making noise in your living room and leaving empty beer cans in the recycling.

“Look at his muscles,” your friend breathed, practically salivating over the dark-haired terror that had infiltrated your life.

“That’s gross, he’s my brother now.”

“Step-brother,” she corrected, “which means you aren’t technically related… therefore—”

You shook your head, standing up and walking past the group of boys to go inside the house, wanting one of the glass bottled sodas from the fridge more than you wanted to hear the rest of her vulgar fantasy. The boys’ heads turned as you walked by, and you quickened your steps as you heard one of them whistle at you.

Two months ago, your mother had remarried Han Solo, he and his son, Kylo, two years older than you, moved into your home. You hadn’t had a moment of peace since, Kylo and his stupid friends always in the house, or at the pool in the backyard.

You weren’t oblivious to the way he looked at you, or how he stared at your body when you climbed out of the pool, water dripping down your curves, between the valley of your breasts as you shook your hair out.

“Hey,” Kylo’s gravely voice snapped you out of your thoughts. It wasn’t affectionate, Kylo never spoke to you unless it was absolutely necessary, asking where the TV remote was or what time Han and your mom were getting home from their date.

You looked up at him, ducking out of the way as he reached over your head to pull a 6-pack from the top of the fridge. He didn’t say anything else as he carried it back outside, a frown etching onto your face as his cold tone turned your heart to ice.

“Still haven’t made any progress with Kylo?” Han’s voice came from behind you, making you whirl around.

“He’s not exactly a fan of me. Definitely doesn’t have an interest in being friends.”

“He’ll warm up to you. Kylo’s a tough one to crack, he just needs time.”

You walked back outside after forcing a halfhearted smile, handing a drink to your friend before slipping into the hot tub with her. You watched your step brother from behind your glasses, your eyes dancing across his deep v-lines.

“So, this party on Saturday. You have to come. I can’t believe you made it all the way through high school a virgin—”

“Shh!” You hushed her, but the boys had clearly heard, smirking at you, though Kylo’s expression was darker. He shifted, hiding the growing tent in his shorts as his mind simmered on the thought of you being pure and untouched, sleeping in the room next to his in nothing but panties and an old Pink Floyd tee.

“What exactly is your point?” You sighed, tipping the bottle back against your lips.

“You have to get laid this weekend! Come on, before college. It will do you some good, help you not be so uptight."

“Fine. Help me pick out something to wear then,” you gave in, willing to go along with her so that you could get away from Kylo's friends.

.

Kylo dreamt of you.

Ever since he’d moved into your house, thoughts of you plagued every inch of Kylo’s mind. He jerked his cock imagining it was your hand, much smaller than his, your skin soft and delicate.

“Kylo, dude, get a fuckin’ grip,” Ushar laughed, shaking Kylo’s shoulder as he handed the controller off to the other boy.

“Sorry.”

“You’re not thinking about your little sister are you? Just fuck her already, stop with this down bad bullshit.”

“I’m not fucking my virgin stepsister!” Kylo snapped, sensitive to the topic his friends had been relentlessly teasing him about since he’d drunkenly confessed that he’d fantasized about you.

Fantasized didn’t quite cover it.

.

When you were gone on a weekend getaway, Kylo snuck into your bedroom. It was odd without your presence, your body not curled up on the bed, clutching the fantasy novels you loved. No music in the background, your friend not in the chair in the corner singing along to Vor í Vaglaskógi as she often did.

He felt dirty, conviction gripping his mind as if he were knelt before a priest in church, though any god would abandon him the moment he went through with the plan that had brought him into your bedroom.

Kylo found his way to your drawers, lingering for a moment, listening for any sound, making sure his father wasn’t coming up the stairs to ask him for a favor, to catch him in the deviant act.

The wood slid open, revealing the laces and silks that Kylo longed to see, but were hidden beneath your clothes. Ever since he had caught you bending forward to get something and catching a glimpse of your ass in a thong, it was all he could think about. His fingers trailed over the delicate fabrics, closing around a deep green silk piece. Kylo acted on instinct, no hesitation in the way he brought it up to his nose, inhaling your scent, wishing his face was buried between your thighs so he could press his full lips to your snatch through the pathetically thin fabric.

A noise came from down the hall, and Kylo quickly shoved your panties into his pocket before closing the drawer, hoping you wouldn’t miss them.

“Kylo? What are you doing?” Han questioned, catching Kylo in your room just as he reached the doorway, narrowly missing his escape. His father stared at him, almost able to hear the way Kylo’s heart was racing.

“Looking for my phone charger. I let her borrow it and she forgot to give it back before going to Santa Monica,” Kylo lied smoothly, the words tumbling from the tongue of a sinner, a man who was acting on dark fantasies of ruining his little sister.

Han seemed convinced enough, offering Kylo the charger from his office until you got back, and Kylo could only pray that he wouldn’t mention it to you. 

There was no one listening to the prayers of a predator.

.

"This is too short," you argued with your friend, turning and checking out the little black dress that barely covered your ass.

"Nope. It's perfect," she insisted as you kept tugging the fabric down.

She handed you a tube of lipstick, and you leaned forward in the mirror, applying it to your lips as she hummed along to the song in the background. She grabbed her keys off of your nightstand, pushing her feet into dangerously high heels that made her seem even taller than she already was, walking through your home like a goddess past Kylo's friends, their gazes following the two of you out the door.

"Why are we driving?"

"Because, I'm not walking in these shoes," she laughed, climbing into the sharp black car before driving the short distance to a peer's home, one infamous for throwing wild house parties at the edge of your neighbourhood. 

"Ready to make some memories?" She put a flask in your hand, grinning as your head tipped back, the syrupy liquid going down easing.

"To losing your virginity," she took a shot after you, pregaming in the car before entering the house.

Some kids you knew from highschool instantly swept her up into conversation, all fighting over her affections. One of the girls put another drink in your hand, pulling your wrist to the middle of the living room to get you to dance. You’d tried to stay with your friend, but you slipped by unnoticed as everyone crowded around her, desperate for even a second of her attention.

You giggled, swaying to the music and wrapping your arm around the neck of a boy you'd always sort of fancied, one with ginger hair that whispered filth in your ear. He’d once written you a love letter in high school, leaving it in your locker. 

"Can I get you another drink?" Armie questioned, and you nodded, stepping out of the living room onto the back porch to get out of the noise while you waited for his return.

"How's your quest going?"

You turned at the question, taking a half-step back as Kylo's friends, Vicrul and Ushar, teased you. They'd overheard the conversations in the hot tub, and you could practically sense Kylo laughing somewhere in the shadows.

"Leave me alone," you tried to strengthen your voice, not letting the obvious fear bleed through. They made you nervous, always making you feel like prey cornered by a predator, ready to be devoured and helpless to stop it. 

"Come on now, I know a couple of willing participants," Ushar reached out to touch the hem of your short skirt, causing you to stumble backward into a hard body.

"That's enough," Kylo's cold tone snapped through the awkward tension, the two instantly backing off.

"Hey," Kylo tried to grab your wrist, only to be sure that you didn't want a ride home, away from the loud party he knew you weren't fond of.

You jerked away and hurried to Armie, the ginger who was returning with your drinks. You didn’t want to be near Kylo, frightened by his friends and confused by your sexual arousal toward your stepbrother. 

"Thanks," you wrapped your arm around his neck, swallowing the shot before your lips met his, a sight that left Kylo's blood boiling.

"You okay?" Armie asked, smiling almost shyly.

"Great."

Your friend was nowhere to be found, several of Kylo's friends were missing from their pack in the corner, bent around table games, trying to make balls go into the cups. You attempted to ignore them, trying to focus on the ginger in front of you, hoping that eventually you'd complete the night's mission. Kylo's dark gaze burned through you, locked on your body in a way you could nearly feel.

Kylo lusted after you. Seeing Armie kiss you sent a fiery spark of possession through Kylo, finally breaking the dam of need that was now flooding his senses. He watched you glare at him, swallowing shot number - he'd lost count. It was enough to have you tripping over your own feet, becoming easier prey for all the men who wanted you to steal you away from Kylo.

"Get off of her," Kylo growled, shoving Armie off of you.

You'd been tripping your way up the stairs, pulled by the redhead you didn't really want to be with. You wanted to search for your friend, to tell her you had too much to drink and you wanted to go home. At first it seemed like Armie was going to help you find her, but you were fairly certain she wasn't in the upstairs bedrooms, and his intentions were impure. 

"Kylo?" you grabbed his arm for stability, thankful for his presence for the first time.

"Touch her again and I'll fucking kill you," Kylo snarled, gripping his collar and pressing his body against the stair railing.

"Stop, please, I just want to leave!" you begged, terrified for a moment that Kylo might actually throw him onto the landing below.

His muscular arm wrapped around your waist, guiding you out of the noisy party, everything overstimulating you. The second you stepped into the cold night air, you heaved, putting your hand on the wall for balance as Kylo tried to support your weight. His large hand rubbed your back, helping you collect yourself as you choked down gags.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine," you mumbled, pulling your heels off and stepping onto the cold sidewalk.

The walk home was silent, as was typical with Kylo, though this felt distinctly different, his hand resting on your lower back. Kylo caught you as you tripped, his arms circling around your waist. 

“Sorry, I’m still a bit sloshed,” you confessed, finding your body naturally leaning into his. 

“You’re fine, I’m just going to get you home, where none of those fuckers can touch you.” 

“Because you’re so much better?” you questioned, earning a dark glare.

“I’m no better than them. I want to fuck you more than anyone else, but I wouldn’t touch you without your permission!”

You were stunned into silence, your chest rising and falling as you looked up into his brown eyes. Your hand wrapped around the back of Kylo’s neck, pulling him down into a forceful kiss before your mind could catch up with your body’s carnal needs. His mouth was hot against yours, his tongue parting your lips as a moan broke from your throat. Kylo’s hands gripped your ass beneath the tiny dress you wore, his fingertips dragging over the silk that hugged your skin. The kiss was filthy, your feet cold on the sidewalk as you stood half a block from your house, only a few yards to decide if you were going to cross the line of fucking your stepbrother. 

You finally broke away for air, dizzy from the intensity. His hands were practically burning your skin, only seconds passing before the two of you were stumbling inside, unable to keep your touch off of one another. The house was dark, promising to conceal your secrets as he carried you upstairs, practically throwing you onto his bed. 

“Is this what you want?” his voice was low, the words spoken against the underside of your jaw as his mouth went to work marking up your throat. 

“I need it, Kylo.”

His hands tore the skimpy dress from your body, not wasting any time before kissing you again, your hands tangling into his black hair. Kylo tasted like bourbon, his tongue on yours and lapping down your now-bare chest. A moan slipped from your lips as he gently sucked at your nipple, rolling the other between his fingers until your hips were squirming on his mattress. 

“Kylo, don’t tease me,” you whined, pulling hard on his hair, unable to take the torture anymore as you writhed. 

“Take what you’re given,” he hissed, forcing his hips between your legs. 

He knelt above you, his fingertips lightly rubbing the silk covering your snatch, a dark patch growing on the fabric as he touched you. An amused smile pulled at his swollen, pink lips as he pulled the thong from your body, the fabric tearing easily under his grip. 

“Kylo!”

“Hush, I’ll buy you new ones.”

You tried to close your legs, held open by his waist, wanting to hide yourself from his heady gaze. It wasn’t that you were insecure, but this was new, and him seeing your naked pussy seemed too exposing. 

“You’re beautiful, you don’t have to hide,” Kylo whispered before pressing a kiss to your lips, much more gently this time, as his fingers drew figures on your clit. Your thighs squeezed his hips, pathetic little mewls spilling from you as his fingers soaked with your arousal, his middle finger easing inside of you. 

Embarrassment rose to your chest as you squeezed down on just two of his fingers pumping in and out of you, his tongue teasing your clit while your legs were draped over his shoulders. Pressure was building between your hips, the knot tightening in your lower abdomen as he ate you out and nudged your g-spot. 

“I’m close, I can’t hold it,” your words came out in a strained whine, your body fighting to get away and push him deeper inside of you all at once. 

Your whimpers only encouraged Kylo, his fingers curling forward and his swollen lips sucking hard on your clit until you came, screaming into the sheets and gripping his wavy hair. The bit of scruff around his jaw tickled your thighs as he kissed you, his tongue lapping up all of your mess. Your body trembled underneath him, the aftershocks buzzing through your nerves as you recovered. 

“I can’t wait any longer,” Kylo’s hands wrapped around your hips, flipping your body face-down. 

Your fingers twisted into his sheets as he jerked you onto your knees, your ass in the air as Kylo knelt behind you. His hand rested on the back of your head, pressing it downward as he ground against your sopping cunt, groaning as he sank his cock in you. He was huge, splitting you open with a sharp pain. It was sweet, your head spinning as he filled places inside of you that you weren’t even aware of, stretching you until you were crying out and trying to reach his hand in your hair. 

“K… Kylo,” you whimpered, your body reeling forward and your grip finding his headboard as his hips slammed against your ass. 

“Your fuckin’ cunt is so sweet,” he hissed, gripping your hair and pulling your head from the sheets to hear your shout. 

It hurt and you loved it. He let go of your hips for a brief second, his hand cracking against your ass, leaving a handprint on the delicate skin, and dragging a whimper from your lips. Your breath caught in your throat as he fucked you harder, his hand reaching under you to play with your clit, convinced he could make you come again, despite being raw and overstimulated. Kylo needed to feel you squeeze down on him as you came, desperate to feel you milk him. 

“I can’t, I can’t–” you wept, trying to escape his fingers that were roughly toying with your clit, your nerve endings practically a live wire. 

“You can take it, you’re a filthy slut who’s fucking your stepbrother, you can come again on my dick,” he jerked hard on your hair, soaking up the sound of your cries. 

A shudder rolled down your spine as you gushed around him, unable to hold it off anymore. Your scream was muffled by his hand, holding it over your mouth so your parents didn’t hear the sinful way their stepchildren were fucking. You were disgraced, screaming into his hand and gripping down hard around him as his cum coated your insides, Kylo only continuing to fuck it in deeper. Kylo held your body against his, his sweat-slick chest pressed to your back as he held his hand over your mouth, holding you as you panted. Your muscles were weak, barely able to hold yourself up as the raw ache throbbed between your thighs once he pulled out. Your mess leaked onto his sheets, smearing on your inner thighs in a sight that nearly made Kylo feral. 

He reached over, grabbing his discarded tee shirt to clean you up, gently lying you back into the pile of messy pillows. He smirked as you flinched when his touch went to your sex, a soft whimper bleeding from your lips. 

“That was okay, for your first time?” he questioned, shocking you with the caring tone his words held. 

“Yeah, yes,” you nodded, giggling as he leaned down and kissed you again before standing to find something to slip over your body. 

“Wait, don’t go–” you whined, reaching out and grasping his hand. 

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere. Just getting you a clean jumper because you’re shivering,” he promised, slipping boxers up his legs before walking to his dresser. 

He found a hoodie of his, helping you into the black fabric that was so big it nearly swallowed you. A shy smile graced your face, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you down into his side. You snuggled onto Kylo’s chest, your head nestling against his shoulder. 

“So, are we going to tell mom and dad?” you whispered, making his hearty laughter fill the room.

#kylo #kylo ren #kylo smut #kylo ren smut #kylo x reader #kylo ren x reader smut #kylo ren x reader #star wars #star wars au #adam driver #kylo ren imagine #kylo imagine

[cupidscrule]

OLD ENOUGH 2 DIE

Re4 Leon X Fem! Reader

Tw - drug trafficking

P in v, finger stuff

You were a spoiled bitch, had daddy's money to take care of anything.

"Daddy - pleasee com'on It's only 2k, can you transfer the money? Yay! Thank you daddy mwah"

Spoken into the brand new phone you got, you had money, had everything. Never went a day without living like a queen, never understanding poor people 'ugh why can't you just work harder? Honestly it's not that hard ' said to thousands of waiters at 5 star restaurants. Never even tipped em, throughout high school you were a dick to everyone, if they weren't hot and skinny. Classic mean girl to be honest

"Hunny, absolutely not. We can all tell that bag is a fake, it's embarrassing.. you should honestly thank me for telling you how stupid you look.."

"Oh! That's not.."

"Babes, you know I want the best for you so.. that dress really makes you look fat, maybe wear something more flattering?"

Backhanded comments were your LIFE, had every privilege, didn't even try in school. Just sucked and fucked your way to A's, but you were hot so it's fine! It doesn't matter if the pretty girl makes the slug kill herself? She's all innocent, everyone who tried to defend you was hilarious. "Oh she's just insecure!!" Bullshit, no you weren't? You just hated all those chicks. Rightfully so, they were all annoying whores.

You were just treating them how they deserved to be, not like any of them had a future besides sucking dick.. you're different though, that's what you always told yourself. Sure you dressed like a skimpy bimbo, fucked the sports team twice. But you're different, an exception to the slut rule..

"Daddy can you send me an Uber? I don't have enough money in my account. Dad I said I spent it all shopping- no dad please- it's gonna be night soon, I NEED an Uber. Daddy? UGH" stomping your feet, making your own little hissy fit in the middle of the street, clutching the little pink fur purse you bought, looking around at all the people staring at you. Pout on your face and brows furrowed, throwing your phone on the ground and walking away, you were a good half hour away from home, and these boots were NOT made for walking. They were brand new plus, wouldn't wanna ruin em. And to top it all off it was freezing cold, like -15C. All you had was a white fur coat belted around your waist, with stupid little ear muffs. Couldn't even find matching gloves, freezing cold at Six PM alone on a Friday night, with no phone .. what a perfect day!

Stomping off not really knowin' where you're going isn't that smart though, but you were never a smart kid. Never did drugs or anything like that, just not very smart in the real world. Couldn't read signs, or fight, or have basic common courtesy. Shuffling your feet through the snow for god knows how long till tik street lights flicker on. By this point you got no clue where you are, started off downtown now you were in the middle of fucktown with nothing you recognize, see this is why daddy should've moved to a smaller town after The business deal, that way cops wouldn't be on his ass and you would know where you're going. Sure DC was the place to be! Except for the fact it's the stupidest place to be if your main source of income is drug trafficking, you didn't care where daddy got his money as long as you got it in the end. But what you did care about is when daddy refused to be smart about his shit. Like what are you on if you think moving to Washington is a good idea after makin' a major deal, you're dad was important. He was wanted for a lot. But you didn't do anything wrong, you're innocent! So you never cared about what would happen if dear old dad got caught, he could buy himself out of trouble just like before.

Still aimlessly walking up and down the streets trying to find anything identifiable when you hear footsteps behind you.

Turning your head to see who's behind you, and it's a taller man with blonde hair, it's getting dark so there's not that many details. He's wearing  really weird clothes, just staring at you, his eyes narrow and look at your face in the flickering lights before opening his dumb mouth

"Listen, we can make this easy kid. Just come with me back-" he started speaking, stepping towards you. Immediate nope, fuck that, the police actually caught the hell on? AND THEY WENT AFTER YOU? Worst day ever, dropping your bag and making a run for it just like daddy said.

"Sweetie, if the cops ever find you, and are onto you. Run. And run far."

Never actually thought what that old sack of shit said mattered, I mean nothing bad ever happens to you.

Running around corners, frantically, heart racing, why, why, why, why. You had NOTHING to do with daddies private shit, if anything you're a victim to his crimes.. yeah victim! I mean dad was a creep sometimes, huggin' a bit too tight, grabbing your ass like you were his girlfriend. Even though mom was dead for a long time, he never got over her and I guess you looked closest to her?

Running into an alley way, like any smart fucken girl would, totally. There was a chain link fence, then what looked like a field leading to someone's apartment building? Pretty sure someone from school lives there, yeah Milo in Chem 100% does he's the welfare kid and this was the poor side of town. Bingo.

"Ah- not so fast"

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Don't even reply, no don't reply, you have about five fucking seconds before getting dragged away and everything taken away. Pathetically trying to pull yourself over the fence, y'know if you really tried you could do it. But you don't try. Feeling a hand grab your ankle, pull you down ripping your cute coat, if you're gonna kidnap a girl at least keep her shit nice damn. He throws you down, trying to scramble up only to get immediately knocked out and your unconscious body dragged away.

"fuck" you mutter under your breath, opening your eyes drowsy, vision kinda blurry but you can see everything, trying to move your hands and legs but then feeling the rough rope press against your sensitive skin, looked like you were an old ass storage unit, some boxes piled up in the corner, walls looked rusty. A table in the middle of the small room, and a guy just standing there. Few seconds later lights flicker on, they're dim but you can now see detail in everything. That includes your unknown kidnapper? Or agent? Or cop? He wasn't really dressed like any of them, wore a dark blue t shirt,tactical black pants, and black gloves. Not sure what profession of people wear that, plus he was too cute to just be a random kidnapper, pretty blonde hair with gorgeous blue eyes and a muscular figure.

"Oh you're awake, huh thought that would've taken longer." He says eyes darting towards you as you try to wiggle out of the rope, it's tight. "Who the fuck are you? Where's my dad! Do you even know who I am?" You say acting as if your dad was a fucken celebrity and not a filthy pig. You knew you were in a deep fucken mess, so when in doubt, lie. Lie about everything, you're innocent, no Mr. officer my father would never! You have the wrong girl I'm just a highschooler !

"Don't play dumb missy, cut the shit. Let's get to the point, I know your dear old dad is involved with a lot. And so are you, aren't you? So why don't you tell me where dad does all his importing and where he gets the shit from, hm?" He says coldly, almost as if he's talkin' to a little kid. "I don't know what you're talking about. Just let me go!" You whine staring up at him, he's just standing infront of you arms crossed over his chest, getting a better look at him, he wasn't just a random guy, he looked important. Didn't know why though, a sigh comes from his lips as he blinks slowly at you, "honey, I really don't wanna get messy. Just hand over the information and you can go back to doin' whatcha do, I don't care." He said, arms still folded over his chest, he was a good fifteenth-ish feet away from you and your chair, you grit you teeth, brows furrowed as you stare at this guy. Pissed off, "don't call me honey, I told you I don't know what you're talkin' about." You mutter to him, pout on your stupid lips.

"You're a bad actor, it's really obviously. Plus you're on file, darling. Now can you just tell me the important stuff?" He said putting on an obvious fake begging face, puppy eyes and all. You were trying to get untied, only getting rope burns on your wrists, squirming and whimpering in that tiny wood chair. "I didn't do anything, I don't know what daddy does to get money.. talk to him not me" you say batting your lashes, pushing your face out towards him, he takes another step forward. Putting his arms down, lookin' at you like you were some thing he found on the bottom of his shoe. "You have the face of a pornstar" he says out of the fucking blue, such a handsome voice but such a shocking thing. "I'm in highschool, pig." You scrowl jaw clenched, tone change from 'inccocent little girl' to 'raging bitch.' like a public appearance vs how you act in private. "Mm, well you're eighteen now correct? Nothing's wrong with that now is it? And it's just a fact, you've fucked and sucked your way up. No way someone like you is about to pass, in truth you're a pathetic attempt at human and a failure of whatever we can even call your sorry ass. But at least you make up with it for a massive rack and cute face"

Ouch. Okay.

Words didn't even form, jaw dropped, eyes shocked. Honestly not even knowing what to say, what do you say to that? 'oh yes sorry Mr man you're right I'm a dirty slut!" Absolutely not, because you aren't. "So, you gonna answer me?" He says, he's just a few feet away from you, leaning down to your whiny ass face. A small smirk on his dumb lips,

"fuck. you."

He just looked blankly, at you, almost dumbfounded by how much of a fucking MORAN you were, tied up in small place, no one knows where you are, daddies house is probobly getting raided and he's waiting in jail or has twenty bullets through his back while you're agonizing this man five times your size whom you are at HIS mercy. But hey, it could be worse. He could've killed ya already, he obviously needs you alive. So you're safe, for now. He cups your chin making you look at him directly

"You're such a dumb whore." He whispers letting you go, can't lie he's hot, feeling a throb in your legs, lump in your throat and pushing your thighs together, dumb little slut. Just fuck my brains out already oh my god.

"Seriously? Getting horny in an integration, fuck little missy you really are a freak." He says laughing to himself looking at your pathetic bitch display, all dumb n needy, breath rasp and heavy, feeling an emptiness only filled by fat dick, staring at the man, didn't even know his name, never told ya. He gets close up again and sticks to fingers in your mouth, pushing them back. Your tounge running around them, sucking, like a good little fuck doll. Sloppy and all wet, pulling his index and middle finger out your mouth saliva dripping off of it, stupid ass smirk on his face rubbing his fingers down your chest, over your pretty white shirt and over your tits. You're still bound to the chair, wanting nothin' more then to get bent over and fucked till you can't even remember daddies in trouble, this entire moment is just pure lust. He gives you the look like, 'is this what you really want? Seriously?' and of course you reply with a

"I'll answer you if you give me what I want."

That's all it took for him to untie you from that god forsaken chair, just to tie your hands together again. Push you onto your back, pressing your thighs apart. You aren't wearing much, your coat was gone lost somewhere in the ally, only wearing black shorts and a white top. Stupid for the middle of winter but it was hot.   He takes out a small switch blade from his pocket cutting open your shirt and shorts off, pornstar tits popping out in a little pink bra also exposing the matching panties. Even all finished off with a cute little bow, unzipping his pants his dick springs out, your pussy THROBBING, aching. He cuts the shit off and pushes you firmly on the ground, your arms still bound above your head, his chest just over yours pushing into you, stretching you open. His tip resting nicely in your cervix when he starts rockin' back and forth. Hitting you all the good spots, moaning n' a mess, hes pretty much silent groaning here and there when he speeds up, lifting you up slightly, more like your at an angel on him, he grips your back and rocks you back and forth, feeling your walls tighten  around him feeling all numb and high, cumming over his fat cock, his pull out games fast. Just as you finish he pushes you back on your neck and unloads on your stupid face, 'before grabbing you lazily and pressing your body against his, you were all dumb and covered in your own mess. But he was gentle with you, soft, he was nice. Nicer then anyone else had been, softer then anyone else despite fucking your brains out. His breath was heavy as he held onto you, chest to chest. Can't tell if he's doing' this cause he feels some sort of pity for you but fuck if you care it's comforting, you felt all warm and fuzzy. Weird.

"Please don't leave me here."

"I know you're eighteen, years old, but you're still old enough to die. Right here. Right now. So talk"

#cupidscruel🍡 #leon kennedy #leon resident evil #leon s kennedy #re4 remake #resident evil #leon kennedy re4 #re4 leon #leon kennedy smut #leon smut #leon x you #leon x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil 4 #re4 #resident evil smut #smutstuck #x reader #x you smut

[shpadoinkle-day]

Ween v. South Park in Mean Magazine

06/06/00

From the new issue of Mean Magaizne (http://www.meanmag.com):

Mean: There’s the obvious similarities between Ween and South Park...

Matt: (mocking) Two bands of gay friends. Yes, um, the obvious similarities: "You’re all gay."

When did you guys meet?

Matt: When we did the Orgazmo record, and they did a little number for

Trey’s master work, and we sent them a scene where Orgazmo goes out and

tests the Orgazmo ray. We gave them very little direction, and we said

make it sound super gay, and they came back with this thing that was

just the most perfect fucking thing and the best part of the movie.

That’s when we met.

You guys are in a band called DVDA. Will you ever collaborate with Ween?

Trey: We really suck.

Matt: Yeah, we shouldn’t really talk about that.

You have to let the people know about “Fuck That Guy From Bush” and “I

am Chewbacca.”

Trey: Shut up!

Matt: Trey and I are trying to get the rights to this movie called

Megaforce, which is this shitty movie from the 80’s, and we were going

to talk to Ween about doing the soundtrack.

Gene: Are you going to remake it?

Matt: No, we want to do Megaforce II, like 20 years later. Have you guys

ever seen that movie?

Gene: No, what’s it about?

Matt: It’s the super lamest movie ever made.

Trey: It’s about motorcycles that can fly.

Matt: The big line in the ending is, “Good guys always win...even in the

80’s”.

Trey and Matt, what was your first Ween album?

Trey: My first one was Chocolate and Cheese, the one with the chocolate

titties on the cover.

Whose idea was that?

Gene: It was actually a bastardization. We were trying to get a gay

sailor to wear that championship belt. This is a true story. I think we

even got to the part of casting the guy, then Elektra got cold feet.  We

had already had the belt made by this guy who makes heavyweight prize

title fight belts. So, we just ended up getting the next best thing,

which was a large-breasted model.

Dean: It was actually us. We weren’t man enough to do it.

Matt: Yeah, only someone truly gay would do that.

Gene: Totally.

What do you think about the Smurfs?

Matt: Fuck the Smurfs.

Trey: It’s not cool to talk about the Smurfs anymore. I think there’s an

indie movie that analyzes the Smurfs that you should check out. What’s

up with “Ice Castles”, the instrumental on the new album?

Gene: It’s was called “The Baroque Jam”, but it looked so stupid written

down. None of us would listen to a song called “The Baroque Jam.” It was

named that all the way to the mastering sessions, then it was called

“The Anal Plump Fairies,” then we changed it again to “Ice Castles,”

which was a movie. It’s a pretty bad title.

Trey: I heard a couple of these songs when you last played out here.

Dean: We started playing a lot of the new album on our last tour, so

basically we have nothing to look forward to on the tour.

Matt: Do you guys have to get in shape before you go touring?

Trey: Matt just saw Perry Farrell on a bike at an athletic center

because he’s going to go on tour.

Matt: It was 8:15 in the morning at Bodies In Motion, or one of those

types of places and there’s Perry with his little headphones on riding a

stationary bike.

Gene: We’re exactly the opposite.

Trey: Perry’s old now. You guys aren’t that old though. You’re the same

age as us, aren’t you?

Gene: I’m 29.

Dean: I’m about to turn 30.

Matt: Perry’s like almost 40, so he has to like you know...

Gene: My pre-tour routine is finding all the Valium and Xanax that I can

find...Percadan.

Matt: Mickey’s turning 30?

Dean: No, I am.

Trey: Are you bummed about it?

Dean: No, I’m not. It’s fine. I’m going to Jamaica, so I’m going to be

wasted.

Trey: I was in Hawaii for mine, and everyone’s like, “You know, it’ll

suck, but then you’ll be psyched to be 30,” and it’s been like three

months, and I’m really not psyched to be 30. Maybe you have to wait until you’re 40, and then you’re like, “You know I was psyched when I

was 30.”

Gene: I’m curious about DVDA. Is there going to be a proper release?

Trey: We had a sweet gig actually at Sundance, and we played for like

2,000 people. We played a song called, “Robert Redford Fucks Babies,”

cause you know that’s his thing.

Dean: How did that go over?

Trey: It went over really well. We played with Les Claypool’s Holy

Mackerel, and it was really fun. We would love to just be a band and not

do this fucking cartoon shit anymore, but we’re just sort of locked in

and we can’t get out of it.

Matt: When we get some stuff on tape I’ll send it to you guys. Some of

the stuff will definitely remind you of you guys, but not as good. Like

you guys when you were like 14. You guys when you were in 8th grade.

Trey: Was this the longest you guys took on an album?

Gene: This record’s been done for a while, but we actually intentionally

pushed it back because we didn’t have our shit together.

What were you guys doing in your hiatus?

Gene: Having babies.

Dean: Yeah, I have a kid. A little 14-month-old.

Matt: What do you think about Steely Dan coming out with a new record.

How much does that piss you off?

Gene: No, I bough it actually! It’s not very good. I’m pretty down with

Steely Dan though. When I was a kid, they were the measuring stick for

everything that sucked. I hated them more than anything, and now I thing

I’m getting old.

Dean: Same with me, it’s scary.

Matt: Yeah, I’m where you were when you were little.

What do you guys think about Night Ranger?

Matt: I don’t really think a lot about Night Ranger.

Gene: They’re right up there with the Smurfs.

I’m going to step back into the corner now.

Matt: (laughing) Yeah, it’s like early 80’s guy keeps stepping in and

asking fucked up questions. "What do you think about Jan Hammer?"

Trey: The question Matt and I always get is, “Are you guys starting to

hate each other now?” Do they ask you if you fight, and shit like that?

Dean: No, people are afraid to ask us that question.

Gene: That’s cause they want you to fight and hate each other.

Matt: Trey and I have never really gotten in a fight.

Trey: You guys have known each other since junior high, right?

Gene: Yeah, 8th grade.

Matt: So, do you guys ever get into fights?

Dean: No, we’re in psychotherapy.

Trey: It’s bullshit. Everyone asks us if we hate each other, and if we

say no, then they think we’re gay. Then they’re sure we’re gay because

we’ve been friends since we were 18 or 19.

Have any of you ever seriously sought group counseling?

Dean: No, Gene and I are just gay. There’s a lot of cocksucking.

Gene: The whole key to long relationships is communication. Well, we’re

exactly the opposite—we don’t talk about any of the problem areas and

nothing gets done. That’s kind of how we do it.

Matt: That sounds familiar actually.

Gene: It just builds and builds.

Matt: If you don’t start the communication it doesn’t need to go there.

It just builds and builds and it shapes you both into bitter, horrible

people. I think once Trey and I fuck, we’ll be much better friends. We

just gotta all start fucking. That’s what we should tell those guys who ask if we fight.

Trey: “Yeah, we fucked. You know, it was empty but since we’ve done it,

we’ve become a lot better and closer friends."

Gene: "Well, one night I was drunk, and..."

#trey parker #matt stone #ween #alt tv southpark #i dont have the rest but I've also seen snippets of this posted before here so probably someone else has the rest #but to be safe #im just posting what i find from old forums n shit idk #i have only skimmed this

[watchmegetobsessed]

Tastes Like Strawberries - Harry Styles

a/n: oh this one is a long boi and might not be the end??? i’ve been working on this fic for days and i have an idea for a possible second part, but i wrote this one so it has a fulfilling ending so it can stand as a oneshot as well! i barely just started working on the sequel, we’ll se how it’ll turn out, maybe it goes to shit lmao but whatever, it’s still a nice and whole story without a second part! this is my V-day gift to you all, have this nice professor!harry fic as if it was a box of chocolate! 🍓 🍫 🍬

special thanks to @pastequeharry​ who put up with my constant rambling and whining while i was writing this, you are a hero, his is dedicated to you!!

pairing: professor!Harry x Reader

warning: sexual content, abusing relationship, it’s got smut, angst, lot’s of banter and all that jazz!

word count: 21.4k

masterlist

There’s just a handful of things to know about Professor Harry Styles and that’s because of one of those very few known facts, the first one being that he is a highly private person. He rarely talks about himself or any aspects of his life, he always makes sure to keep it as professional as possible whenever he is teaching.

Second, he is easily the smartest professor to ever walk on campus, but he doesn’t like to brag about it. You never catch him showing off how much he knows, how big of a genius he is, you’ll just start to realize from the way he teaches and approaches certain topics, how he interacts with others and tries to pass his knowledge down to his students. He is brilliant and he should have all the credits for it, yet he still chooses to keep it to himself.

Third, and it’s the most well-known fact because to see this you just need to have a pair of eyes, he is undeniably the most handsome man to ever teach or if you’re being more precise, walk the hallways of the university. No football crazy, alcoholic fratboy or dreamy looking indie guy from the library can live up to what Professor Harry Styles is. With a face clearly carved by the angels, a nicely built but not too muscular frame, and occasionally displayed tattooed arm that makes you wonder what other artworks his stylish outfits are hiding, there’s no man like him and every female on campus agrees with that.

His lectures and courses are jampacked with sighing and heart-eyed college girls, daydreaming about the man who is solemnly just trying to teach the things he is so passionate about. But it’s not just the students, Professor Styles has managed to charm the female professors of all faculties, you can see them wander by his office way too often, they take any opportunity to talk to the man and try to seduce him. It’s unknown if he is oblivious to the effect he has on women or he chooses to ignore every and any attempts, but this is what leads us to the fourth fact.

Despite all the effort and energy that’s been put into his case by every single woman on campus to break the walls the professor has built around himself, he never let any of his students or colleagues to even think they could be romantically linked for real. Professor Styles keeps his distance and turns down any offer that could be mistaken to anything that doesn’t fit in the professional boundaries.

Anytime a student puts on the slightest flirtatious act towards the professor, he either rejects it straight away or ignores it completely and blatantly, making it his clear answer that he is not interested and then he goes back to teaching. You’ve seen it yourself, having him as one of your professors first year of uni, you fell for him just like every other girl in the lecture hall, dreaming about him in ways you probably shouldn’t think of a teacher while he was just casually talking about his grading system and how he is going to build up the lectures throughout the semester. Some brave girls who you assume were highly celebrated by boys in high school took the courage to openly flirt with him, but he didn’t even flinch before shutting all attempts down, not even a blush appeared on his perfectly cut cheekbones.

You thought of ways you’d try to seduce him yourself, but you never actually tried. You never had the balls to actually give it a go and then suffer from the worst embarrassment of your life when he rejects you. So you kept it all to yourself, only entertaining yourself with your elaborate plans about the seduction of your professor.

Second year passed without any classes with Professor Styles, you had only occasionally seen him come and go, rushing down the hallways holding his notebooks to his chest, a steaming cup of coffee in his other hand as he was heading to his lecture hall that you just knew was filled with girls. You always took a moment to yourself to admire his outfit. He has a tendency to pair odd items and make them look like the most put together fit ever that only he can pull off. However, you and your girlfriends always loved to tease him between each other for his grandpa-like sweaters and vests he seemed to love dearly.

“He confuses me, because I want him to fuck me on his desk but also, I feel like he is about to ask me what periodt means because he is too old to understand slang these days,” your friend, Nat said once when your little group was lounging under the huge oak tree between classes and the professor rushed past you, disappearing in the building without paying any of you a look. He wore a pair of beige slacks and a striped sweater, a wrinkly grey shirt peeking from under it at the bottom. The colors and the style overall once again gave you that old people feeling, but then you looked at his handsome face and couldn’t care any less about whatever he was wearing.

The most intimate way you ever saw him was a few days after your twenty-first birthday the summer before your last year of uni started. You just got back from your hometown, the first person to arrive back to your shared flat with Nat and Eden, so you had a few days on your own. You decided to redecorate your room so you took a trip to IKEA, taking your time looking through the set up rooms, just wandering around as you try to figure out what you really want to buy. Walking through the living room section you spotted the professor and first, you didn’t even recognize him.

He was wearing a pair of bright yellow shorts and a short sleeved shirt with floral prints on it, a pair of white framed sunglass on top of his head, keeping his unruly strands out of his face as he was eyeing a couch, seemingly deep in his thoughts. You stopped in your tracks, seeing him in such a casual and everyday setting. For some reason, he seemed like a completely different person.

A woman was there with him and as you walked closer you could hear a fraction of their discussion.

“I don’t know, Gems. Do I need a couch this big?”

“Looks comfy and I like the color. It would also fit in the space just right, I think you should get the bigger one if you have the space for it,” the woman put her two cents in and you wondered who she could be. Girlfriend? Just a casual friend? Maybe fiancé? She did have a ring that could easily go as an engagement ring so you couldn’t tell for sure.

As you were about to walk past you suddenly took the courage to say hi.

“Hello, Professor Styles!” you greeted him with a warm smile and his eyes flickered over to you from the couch in question. One thing you always admired about him is that he never forgot the faces of his students and as he looked at you, you knew he recognized you even if he didn’t know your name specifically.

“Oh, hello,” he nodded in your way.

“I like the couch,” you commented before slowly moving on. “Have a nice rest of your summer!”

“You too, Y/N,” he called after you and it took you by surprise that he remembered your name. Your lecture he taught had almost over a hundred students in it and you weren’t the most active one to stand out that easily, yet he still remembered you more than you were expecting.

That small encounter kept you thinking about him for way longer than you probably should have, especially because you knew you’d have a lecture with him again in the upcoming semester. Your daydreams about him made their way back into your mind as you spent the last days of your summer mostly with your friends. It got you thinking that if you managed to get him to remember your name, maybe you would give one of your plans a go and shoot your shot. He wouldn’t be teaching you in your last semester so you wouldn’t have to face him after he rejects you.

And this is how you came up with your little scheme.

On your last Sunday evening before school starts, you, Nat and Eden sit in the floor of your living room, drinking some white wine as a way of saying goodbye to the carefree summer moments and getting back to the working days of being a senior at uni. Professor Styles came up completely randomly and you let it slip that you’ve just seen him recently at IKEA with a woman and it all led to you admitting that you’ll finally shoot your shot at the professor. Nat and Eden both did the same already, however their attempts were completely ignored and they always bugged you to give it a try yourself, being the only one in your group who hasn’t tried to seduce the professor yet.

“I’ll tell you, but you can’t tell me it’s stupid because I actually think it’ll be funny and a little bit genius,” you tell them before you start sharing the details on your plan.

“Just spill the beans already!” Eden pokes you before she reaches for the bottle and refills her glass.

“Okay, so you both know I took this psychology class last semester for extra credits, right?” The nod and you continue. “The teacher told us about this thing called classical conditioning or they call it pavlovian response too. The guy, Pavlov, did an experiment where he paired the feeding of dogs with a bell ring and after a certain amount of time the dogs started salivating at just the sound of the bell, because they remembered that it’s connected to food. The teacher said this is literally one of the easiest tricks to pull on people.”

“Oh, isn’t this one of the things Jim did on Dwight in The Office?” Nat asks furrowing her eyebrows.

“It is!” you nod, glad that they are understanding the base of your plan. “So, I’ve heard that Professor Styles loves strawberry flavored candies. I thought that I would bring some every day when I see him and offer him some. Slowly, he’ll pair the candy with the thought of me and he’ll get excited when he sees me because he’ll think I have candy for him and it will hopefully work the other way around and he’ll think of me when he is eating strawberry flavored candy that’s not from me.”

Your friends blink at you for a moment, processing what you just shared with them before Eden takes a huge sip of her drink.

“This is the most ridiculous but also the most genius thing I’ve ever heard,” she nods holding her glass up towards you.

“I can’t believe you will pull a psychological experiment on Professor Styles,” Nat shakes her head with a soft chuckle.

“It’s not a blunt way to get closer to him and if he accuses me of trying to flirt I can just say that I’ve been only sharing candy with him, I literally did nothing,” you point out, pretty proud of your solution to your deep fear of having to take his rejection publicly.

“If you get a Noble for this shit, make sure to thank us in your speech,” Eden laughs and you promise to do so when the big moment comes.

Monday morning you make a quick trip to Target and buy a big bag of strawberry flavored candies, probably enough to last for the whole semester, and then you make your way to campus. Following your first lecture you meet up with Eden who also signed up for Professor Styles’ lecture this semester, so the two of you make your way towards the lecture hall together.

“I really can’t believe you are doing this,” she chuckles when you get the candy ready as you near the room. The professor is always the first one in the lecture hall so you know you’ll find him there already.

“You can’t tell me it’s not a funny plan,” you smirk at her. And just as you walk in, you immediately spot the professor sitting at the desk at the front, going over the syllabus before the start. “Save a seat for me,” you tell Eden who just laughs and makes her way up the stairs along the desks.

Grabbing the pack of sweets from your bag you walk up to the professor, feeling confident with your plan. He lifts his head up when he notices your arrival and your eyes meet with his green ones.

“Hello, professor. Would you like some candy?” you simply ask with an innocent smile.

Professor Styles stares at you for a moment before his eyes move down to the candy in your hand, the opening of the bag facing him in a welcoming manner.

“I, uhh… what flavor?” he curiously asks and you can barely push down your smirk.

“Strawberry.”

“Oh. I’ll… take one, thank you,” he nods, hand reaching into the bag as he grabs just one single candy, unwrapping the package before he pops it into his mouth. “Thank you,” he nods again with a delightful smile.

“Of course. Did you buy the couch?” you ask, taking slow steps away from the desk as he keeps his eyes on you.

“I… did not. Bought another one,” he admits shortly and you know you’ve reached the limit. If you ask more, he’ll get suspicious, so you just nod smiling before walking up to the spot Eden has reserved for you. When you sit down, you catch the professor paying you one last glance before he returns to what he was previously doing.

“You are a genius, because now we can watch him suck on a fucking candy for the next few minutes,” Eden mumbles quietly, making you laugh.

“I knew this would be a good plan,” you sigh, satisfied with the work you’ve done. Now it’s just a matter of time.

Every Monday and Wednesday, you arrive with the same bag of candy to the lecture hall, walk up to Professor Styles and offer him one. And he always takes one. The first few times he seems hesitant when he spots you approaching him, but he slowly grows used to your tiny act of kindness that occurs every time you see him. On week three you expand the plan. You usually have lunch with Nat on Thursdays since you both have a break between one and two pm. The two of you try to take advantage of the warm early autumn days and sit under the pergola that’s near the building where Professor Styles’ office is as well. It’s mere coincidence, you only like that place because it’s close to the lecture hall you have to go to after lunch, but you notice that the professor emerges from Building C around one thirty, walking back to his office probably after one of his classes. The sidewalk runs directly next to the pergola so it gives you a chance to bring the candy out one more time every week. You nicely greet him when he is nearing the two of you and then hold out the bag, asking if he wants some. He always takes one and thanks you with a sweet smile that leaves you a tad bit blushed.

“I can’t fucking believe your plan is working,” Nat chuckles in disbelief on one occasion when the professor just disappeared in the building, probably happily unwrapping his candy of the day.

“It’s funny, innit?” you grin at her proudly.

Frankly, this is just a fun experiment for you. You don’t actually think that the professor will think of you differently even the slightest. You might be able to plant the thought of you in his head, but that doesn’t instantly mean that he’ll start fancying you and actually do something about it. It would be ridiculously naïve to think it’s going to be you who breaks through the wall that hundreds of women had already tried to knock down.

Week six is what brings the breakthrough. After long consideration and discussion with Nat and Eden, you decide to test if the experiment has been successful. You offer one last candy on Monday, but Wednesday brings the change. You go to lecture without candy. Well, you have it on you, but you decide not to ask him if he wants some.

Walking into the lecture hall, as always, he is already sitting at his desk, flipping through the pages of a book when you walk up to him with the intention of asking him a question on the paper that’s due next week.

“Professor Styles?” you softly speak up, catching his attention. “Can I have a question about the paper?”

“Of course,” he nods and you can’t tell just yet if he was expecting the candy or not.

“I was wondering if I can use a diagram to visualize my results at the end. I have a brilliant idea to summarize the data with one.”

“Sure, just make sure to give credit wherever it’s due, if you are using someone else’s work for the diagram.”

“Definitely,” you smile at him and wait a moment. That’s where you see the anticipation in his eyes.

His gaze flickers down to your hands and then to your bag where you always carry the candy and when his eyes meet yours again, you see him swallow hard.

He was expecting the candy. Not only expecting, but he started salivating when he saw you, thinking that he would get the candy from you as always.

“Is… that all?” he asks, the slightest hint of hope appearing in his tone, probably waiting for you to pull the bag of candy out of your bag and offer him one. But it’s not happening today.

“Yes, thank you very much,” you nod smiling widely before you turn around and walk away, a shocked and triumphant look appearing on your face once he can’t see it anymore and when Eden sees you, she gasps.

“He fucking expected the candy, didn’t he?!” she whispers at you in shock and you nod frantically, still not believing your plan worked.

“You should have seen the anticipation in his eyes, he really thought I was gonna offer him some!”

“Oh my God, this is hilarious!” Eden laughs covering her mouth as the lecture hall starts to fill up slowly.

Turning forward, you see that the professor is sitting behind his desk, the book that had his attention before your arrival is long forgotten in front of him, now he is staring ahead of him with slightly furrowed eyebrows, deep in his thoughts.

Is he thinking about you? Or why he was expecting candy from you?

You see him reach for his water bottle and he takes two big gulps probably to wash away his need for the candy before he narrows his eyes and at last they find you in the auditorium. You tilt your head to the side innocently smiling, as if you know absolutely nothing about anything. You keep eye-contact, forcing you not to be the one who breaks it and he is intimidating. You feel like he can read your mind as he stares at you and when he finally turns his gaze back at the book, you exhale sharply.

The lecture goes down just as usual and when the professor dismisses the class you decide to put the cherry to the top. Walking down between the desks you grab a candy from your bag and while the professor is talking to a girl who also had a question about the paper, you place the candy to his desk next to his book. He doesn’t see you walk out and you don’t see him when he finds it, but something is telling you he figured you out. No way a man as smart as him doesn’t realize what game you’ve been playing with him.

Sitting under the pergola on Thursday you are deep in discussion with Nat, helping her with a task sheet she has to turn in after lunch but she completely forgot about it. As the two of you are trying to do the seemingly endless sheet, you don’t even notice the professor walking from Building C, as always, but he spots you.

“No, I don’t think that’s even a thing, you can’t write that,” you tell Nat, but she shakes her head.

“I don’t care if it’s a thing, I just want to fill in the whole thing so the teacher doesn’t think I finished it in twenty minutes before class,” she mumbles, scribbling down her answer as you just chuckle at her.

Suddenly, you see a pair of dusty Vans appear in your sight and as your eyes move up, you are facing none other than Professor Styles, standing right in front of you, holding out his hand with his hand turned upwards, a cheeky smile tugging on his lips. His appearance takes you by surprise and for a moment you just dumbly stare down at his palm, then up at his eyes.

“Very smart. Pulling a pavlovian on me with my favorite candy,” he speaks up, dropping his hand as he cocks his head to the side. Nat looks up from her sheet with wide eyes as you stare at the professor with blushing cheeks.

“I have no idea what you are talking about, professor,” you tell him with a knowing smirk.

“Of course. You know, it took me a moment to realize yesterday, but I wanted to let you know that… I think it was clever.”

“If I knew anything about what you’re talking about… I would say thank you. But I stand up for my innocence.”

“Surely,” he chuckles softy. “Have a great rest of your week,” he then nods before turning around to walk away, but you quickly reach into your bag and grab a candy.

“Professor Styles!” you call out and he turns back just in time to catch the candy you throw in his way. He glances at it in his palm before his eyes snap up to you again, smirking at you shortly before he disappears in the building.

“Okay, call me stupid, but I could feel the sexual tension between the two of you,” Nat says as soon as the professor is out of sight.

“Don’t be silly, it was just… a joke and he liked it.”

“He called you clever, Y/N!”

“No, he called my trick clever.”

“But you came up with it so you’re clever too. Say whatever you want, but I actually think you have a shot at him.”

“I definitely don’t,” you laugh shaking your head and you genuinely believe it. Nat scoffs before she gets back to her sheet, but not without having one last thought about the situation.

“We’ll be laughing at how you brainwashed him into liking you when you’ll be dating for years, living together and all that shit.”

You’ve made some very questionable choices in your dating life prior. Like when you dated a boy in high school and let him take your virginity at the back of his mom’s minivan just to break up with your right after that, or when you briefly dated the guy you met at the mall, but it later turned out he was gay and he used you as his cover up in front of his family. But the worst decision of all was dating an egoistic forty years old loser who just freshly got divorced and went after you at some tacky bar you were at with your friends.

The time you spent dating Victor is way less than the time he has been bothering you, trying to make you go back to him when you’ve actually told him you don’t want anything to do with him anymore. You broke up with him just before you went home for the summer and he didn’t take it well, even drove up to your hometown and showed up at your parents’ house drunk, begging for you to take him back. He never stood a chance, not after that one time he slapped you across the face during a fight the two of you had. You tolerate a lot of things but not violence and you don’t believe him when he says it was just a onetime thing. There’s no guarantee he won’t hit you ever again and you are definitely not waiting around to see if he told you the truth.

On this particular late October evening you are searching through your whole room looking for a book you know you have, but can’t seem to find anywhere. It’s your holy bible about research methodology and you need it for your thesis work, but it seems like the small apartment has completely swallowed it.

“Didn’t you leave it at Victor’s? You were working on that long essay when you were dating him, saw you use the book all the time,” Eden tells you when you ask her if she’s seen it anywhere and then it clicks.

She is right, now you remember leaving the book at his once and you completely forgot to pick it up after things got nasty between the two of you.

“Damn it,” you growl in annoyance.

Not feeling like calling him, you send him a quick text, hoping he still has it and hasn’t burned it after one of your fights.

Y/N: Hey, I think I left my research methodology book at yours. You still have it?

Victor: I do.

Y/N: Cool, can I drop by to pick it up?

Victor: I’m leaving for work, you can come to the bar if you want it.

You sigh in defeat. Victor is a bartender at a place that’s all the way across town, takes almost an entire hour to get there, but you are left with no other choice.

Y/N: Okay, I’ll see you there.

The raining has finally stopped this morning so you feel better leaving the house than you would have if it was still pouring. You take the bus and travel across town, feeling anxious to see Victor again. Last time you met him he cursed you out and threw his phone at you, barely missing your head. You promised yourself you wouldn’t go near him again after that, but it seems like you can never get completely rid of him.

Students rarely come to this part of the town, it’s way too far from campus and has nothing to offer that can’t be found closer to the dormitories or the school’s buildings. It’s not entirely your scene either, the bars around here are liked by older generations, not by people your age, this is another reason why you don’t like coming around here.

The bar where Victor works is a place where they have different local bands perform every Friday and Saturday. It’s not a tacky nook with creepy dudes, they actually have prices on the higher end, not something you can necessarily afford with your part time job’s paycheck from the small accounting office near your apartment where you work as an assistant on your free afternoons.

Walking into the place you immediately spot Victor behind the bar and you take a deep breath before you walk up to him.

“Hey,” you call out for him, taking one of the stools along the bar.

“Hey. Long time no see.”

“Happens when you break up with someone,” you respond with a little spice and he frowns at your words. “Can you give me the book?”

“I’ll have a break in ten, can you wait for that or you have something extra urgent shit to do, as always?” You can tell he is still bitter from how things ended between the two of you, but you’ve learned not to care about it. His way of dealing with the breakup is not your responsibility, no matter how hard he is trying to prove it wrong.

You roll your eyes but nod, knowing well there’s no use to fight him. Ten minutes is not the end of the world. Busying yourself on your phone, you try to stay unnoticed and luckily, Victor can’t keep chatting with you, because customers keep coming up to him and ordering drinks. When he finally has his break he tells you to follow him to the back.

“So how have you been?” he asks as you walk down the hallway that leads to the small break room, there’s an office at the end and some kind of changing room you guess for the bands, along with a storage.

“Fine.”

“You really gonna be a bitter bitch and not talk to me?” he asks you, giving you a disgusted look, but you know it’s just the anger talking from him.

“Victor, I didn’t come here to talk, I just need my book!”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t answer my question.”

“I answered it! I’ve been fine, now give me the damn book!” you growl, losing your patience with him, but he is seemingly in the same shoes.

“When will you stop being a bitch and just drop this ridiculous act, Y/N? I’ve been after you for months yet you keep ignoring me!”

“Did it ever occur to you that I’m ignoring you because I don’t want anything to do with you? Victor, it’s been months, just… move the fuck on! Go cry to your ex-wife or something, I don’t care!”

You didn’t mean to snap, but he always brings the worst out of you. From the corner of your eyes you can see movement at the other end of the hallway where the changing room is, but you don’t get to pay much attention to it, because the next moment Victor grabs you by your arm and yanks you towards him.

“Don’t fucking talk to me like that! You ungrateful slut, I swear…”

There’s little you can do, he is twice as big as you are, his grip on your arm so strong there’s no doubt it will leave a mark. Your heart is racing as you try to pull yourself out of his hold, but he doesn’t even bat an eye at your attempt.

However, before he could drag you into the empty breakroom to do god knows what, he is stopped by a voice.

“Hey! Let her go!”

If you weren’t shocked enough at his violent reaction, now you are definitely think you’re going nuts, because it’s none other than Professor Styles who is now nearing you with a hard expression on his face, two other guys following right behind him and though none of them are bigger than Victor, he knows he can’t just start a fight with three men.

Your chest is heaving when the professor finally reaches you and Victor’s hold lets go of you, making you fall back a little.

“You perform here twice and think you’re some kind of rockstar?” Victor spats at the professor, but you’re a little lost in what’s really going on. Professor Styles gently grabs your wrist and pulls you behind him, eyes never leaving Victor’s burning gaze.

“You alright?” one of the other two men asks and you nod, not finding your voice to actually speak.

“Get the hell out of my sight before I call the police on you,” the professor answers in a calm yet threatening voice

Victor takes a second to himself, thinking about the choices he has before he turns around and disappears in the breakroom, slamming the door behind him, leaving you in complete shock about what just happened.

Professor Styles then turns around, his eyes soften at seeing how shaken you are and quite frankly, you feel like you are in a bad and quite weird dream.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” he asks, clearly worried about you and you just shake your head no.

“I-I’m fine, I think,” you mumble out of breath.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” the guy who asked if you’re alright suggests and you nod in agreement, following them kind of blindly, the three of them keeping you in their little circle as you walk out to the bar and they don’t stop until you are out of the place in the cold night air. You slowly come back to reality and process that Professor Styles just saved you out of fucking nowhere from your abusive asshole ex. That’s what you call a plot twist.

You finally take a moment to look at the other two guys, they both look the same age as the professor, or maybe a little older, both of them are rocking some facial hair, the one that asked you seems a little more open while the other one quite reserved but friendly looking.

“What… What were you doing back there?” you ask, turning to face the professor. He clearly seems upset, but you’re not sure if it’s entirely because of what happened with Victor back then or because you are standing outside some random bar on a Saturday night, definitely crossing his personal boundaries he keeps so high at school.

“We played here tonight, was just about to leave when I saw you.”

“You have a band?” you ask, shocked at the detail.

“A pretty good one,” the talkative guy chuckles. “I’m Adam, nice to meet you. This is Mitch.”

You shake hands with them introducing yourself as well.

“Y/N is… my student,” the professor adds as if he is clearing the air for his bandmates, a kind of warning for them.

From the direction of the parking lot two women emerge, laughing on something as they walk up to the four of you, both of them eyeing you curiously.

“Hey boys, who is this pretty girl?”

“Sarah, Charlotte, this is Y/N, she is my student. Y/N, these are my other band mates, Sarah and Charlotte,” the professor introduces you as you shake hands with them quickly.

“I-I’m sorry I interrupted your time with your friends, professor,” you shyly apologize, feeling like a complete intruder all of a sudden with all his bandmates around you.

“Interrupt? Sweetheart, that dude was about to do some unforgivable things to you, don’t apologize for needing help,” Adam snorts. “You’re lucky we were there.”

“What? What happened?” Sarah asks in confusion.

“Just… my asshole ex got a little too violent when I didn’t want to chit-chat with him,” you admit with a defeated sigh.

“Oh shit, but are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you smile faintly, though you still can feel his grip on your upper arm. “I, um… I better get going, I guess. Thank you for… the saving,” you say, a little lost about what should be said in this situation.

“You’re leaving? We were just about to go to a much better place, why don’t you come with us, forget about your ex a little?” Charlotte offers and you catch the professor’s panicked look for a split second.

“I, um… I don’t think I should, but thank you.”

“Why shouldn’t you?” Sarah questions.

“Because I know how Professor Styles hates to mingle with students outside of lectures and I don’t want to cross any lines,” you truthfully admit. The professor furrows his eyebrows.

“I don’t hate mingling with students,” he states.

“Well, you are surely not the most reachable professor on campus,” you chuckle lightly. “But it’s fine, I understand it. So I’ll just head home.”

“Come on, Harry. Let her tag along for just one drink!” Sarah begs and seemingly everyone would be happy to have you join for a little. The professor’s eyes meet yours, as if he is contemplating whether he should say yes or let you go home. When he finally speaks up you’re more surprised than when you realized it was him saving you from Victor.

“I guess you could use a drink after what happened in there,” he says, the tiniest smirk showing on his lips as your eyes shoot up.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, come on,” he nods and your little group heads down the street.

Turns out the place they were heading to was just two corners down, so they left all their stuff at the minivan at the parking lot for the time being. You slide into an empty booth, Adam and Mitch go to get the first round, so it’s just the three of you girls and the professor.

“So you’re in one of Harry’s lectures?” Charlotte asks with a warm smile.

“Yeah, for the second time, actually. Had him in first year, now it’s my fifth semester and I had no doubt I have to take his class if I have the chance.” You pay a glance at him, but he is staring at his hands on his lap, you can’t tell if it’s because he is uncomfortable with you there or if it’s something else.

“It’s so funny, because we’ve heard that he is known to be a good teacher but we never actually heard it from one of his students,” Sarah chuckles. “What’s he like?”

“Sarah, you enjoy talking about me when I’m very much present?” he scoffs, giving her a look, but she just shrugs innocently.

“Come on, I bet even you’re curious about what your students think of you. Now is your time to find it out!”

“I think Professor Styles knows very well that he is one of the best, if not the actual best,” you truthfully say and see him raise his eyebrows a little.

“What makes him so good?” Charlotte questions.

You glance at him again, as a way of asking for permission if you can answer. You definitely don’t want to make him even more uncomfortable by talking about him when he is right next to you. He looks into your eyes, and his expression tells you that he wants to hear your answer as well, but he quickly adds:

“You don’t have to answer, Y/N.”

“It’s not a secret,” you admit it with a smile. “Professor Styles’ lectures always leave you with a question to think about until next week, he is great at getting into your head without you even noticing. He explains the most complicated things in so simple ways, it should be taught,” you say with a soft chuckle. “I think his enormous knowledge about many different fields in science and just life in general is amusing, anyone can learn something from him, it’s guaranteed.”

“Wow, where is this academic genius side of yours when you’re around us, or we only get to see the dad joke version of you?” Sarah teases him and you can’t push down a laugh, imagining him cracking dad jokes feels so alien but still kind of fitting for him.

“That’s what you get when you’re a nosy little thing,” he retorts with a small smirk. He then turns to you, and as Sarah and Charlotte are laughing on something, he lowly tells you: “You can call me Harry outside of school. Feels weird that you call me professor when my friends are around.”

“You sure?”

He nods and you spot a small smile on his lips. He must be getting used to the feel of you being there, but you still don’t want to push his limits too much.

“Can I ask you something?” he questions, leaning back in his seat.

“Of course.”

“If your ex is this aggressive, why were you there with him?”

His question is surprising, you didn’t think he would ask you something personal, but you guess it’s a valid question after he just saved you from Victor.

“I wanted to get a book back that I left at his place. Didn’t even get to the point where he could have given it back,” you mumble under your breath.

“What book?”

“Just this… research methodology book, wanted it back for my thesis work, but I guess I’ll have to buy a new one,” you huff bitterly.

“Is it the one written by William Scott?”

“Y-Yeah, it is. You know it?” you ask, but then realize it’s a bit of a dumb question. He probably knows every academically important book you will ever come across.

“I actually have it myself,” he nods. Just then, Mitch and Adam return with the drinks and you thank them for the beer, already reaching for your money to pay, but Adam shakes his head.

“It’s on me, don’t worry.”

You watch as Mitch sits beside Sarah, curling an arm around her shoulders and though you couldn’t have guessed that they are a couple, seeing them like this it actually makes sense, they look cute together.

You take a sip from your beer, trying to join the conversation Sarah and Charlotte are having, when your attention is pulled back by Harry.

“I can… lend you the book, if you want.”

“Oh, you don’t have to. I’ll just get a new one.”

“No, really. I think I even have two copies, I can give one to you.”

“I couldn’t ask you that, prof—I mean Harry.”

“You’re not asking,” he smiles at you softly. “I probably won’t need both, so why not put the extra into use?”

“Okay, but I’ll pay for it,” you insist, but Harry shakes his head.

“No need, one of them was a gift so I didn’t pay for it either.”

“Well… if you’re sure about it, I would love to have that extra copy, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“So Y/N, what do you study exactly?” Adam questions, pulling you out of your little discussion with Harry.

“I’m majoring in anthropology, but I’ve been taking some psychology classes on the side just because I’m interested in the topics.”

“And what is Harry teaching you?”

“Had him for intro Sociology lecture first year, now I’m in his Methodology of Cultural Anthropology class.”

“All these subjects with their GY endings, I don’t know how you two put up with science on this level,” Sarah huffs in amusement.

“The names sometimes sound fancier than the subject itself,” you tell her smiling.

“But I bet you need to be quite smart to study these stuff on this level you are at.”

“Oh, it’s just a bachelorette degree, I wouldn’t say I’m that smart,” you chuckle shyly.

“She is totally toning it down,” Harry speaks up, catching everyone’s attention. “I know students tend to take my into Sociology class for just some extra credits so I always give them two options for the semester. They can either write a two pages long review of any article related to the topics talked about at lecture and get their strong C with the bare minimum, or actually participate and do a research of their own and turn in an at least seven pages long essay about their chosen topic. Y/N turned in an eleven pages long paper on the history of death sentences in the U.S. in the last fifty years and how society is thinking about it nowadays. It was easily one of the best works I’ve ever read and it was just an intro class.”

“You remember my essay?” you ask in complete shock.

“Of course. As I said, one of the bests I’ve read,” he nods confidently.

“So you’re like… on Harry’s smart level, actually?” Sarah asks, tilting her head to the side and you can feel yourself blushing.

You’ve always been said to be the smart kid at school, but you never thought it to be true yourself. In your book, you were just doing your absolute best, soaking in whatever knowledge was thrown in your way. You never actually understood how someone could just not study for an exam or not do an assignment, because you always felt like it was your duty to do the best you can. You thought yourself to be more of a hard-working student rather than a smart one.

“She is definitely a bright one,” Harry agrees, his eyes meeting yours as a small smile appears on his lips and you think that this is the biggest compliment you’ve ever gotten. “She actually tricked me with a psychological experiment and I didn’t even realize it,” he laughs and you can’t hold your smirk back.

“What? What did you do?” Charlotte asks, dying to know how you played Harry.

“Have you heard of the Pavlovian response?” you ask looking around and you can tell it rings a bell for all of them.

“The one with the dogs and the bell?” Mitch asks and you nod.

“Wait you did that on Harry?” Adam laughs with wide eyes and you just nod with a sly smile.

“I just offered him strawberry flavored candies every time I saw him. Took me six weeks to build up the response but he actually started expecting it whenever he saw me,” you tell them chuckling to yourself.

“And I only realized it when she stopped with the candy and I felt this massive feeling that something was missing,” Harry adds shaking his head with a soft laugh.

“Okay, that’s hilarious,” Sarah snorts clapping her hands together. “Y/N, I adore you, you’re brilliant!”

“It was just… an experiment,” you shrug shyly.

The night carries much faster than you realize. One drink turns into three and before you could realize, it’s already past midnight. Eden texts you, asking where you are since you said you’d just get the book and go home right away, but it’s been hours.

Y/N: Don’t freak out, but I’m at a bar with Prof. Styles and his friends. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow!

Eden: HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME NOT TO FREAK OUT AFTER READING THIS???!?!

Y/N: Lol, chill. Nothing extra is happening.

Eden: It’s already extra that you’re out with him.

Realizing how late it is, you decide you better get going, since it’s a long way back home. When you tell the little group that you’re about to head out, they all agree that it’s time to part ways and leave, so you all slowly make your way back to the parking lot.

“Do you know where the bus stop is back?” you ask, narrowing your eyes, trying to spot where you should be heading.

“You want to go home by bus at this time?” Harry asks.

“Well, I surely won’t pay for a ride, I live almost an hour away from here.”

“An hour?” he frowns. “I’ll take you home, come on,” he tells you, heading towards the minivan.

“What? No need. The bus is fine,” you protest, but he shakes his head.

“You are not taking the bus at this hour, not under my watch,” he simply states and you raise your eyebrows at him.

“Didn’t realize I was under your watch,” you tease him and it seems like your comment caught him off-guard. “Don’t piss your pants, I was just joking,” you tell him, and thought for a second you feel like you are being way too comfortable around him, his smile quickly smashes your doubts.

Sarah, Mitch and Charlotte all take an Uber since they live near each other and Adam is picked up by his wife, so when everyone is off to their own way, you and Harry get in the van and head to your place.

“How long have you had the band?” you ask, in need to break the silence that’s been weighing down on the two of you. “If you don’t mind me asking,” you add quickly when you see him.

“About four years. Used to have another one, but we parted ways.”

“And what do you do in the band?”

“I, uhh… Well I mostly sing but I also play the guitar.”

“You know, I’m not that surprised you can sing,” you chuckle to yourself sinking further down in your seat.

“How come?”

“You have a voice that’s great to listen to at lectures, makes sense that you can sing as well.”

You take a moment to look at his hand that’s gripping the steering wheel, he is the kind that drives with one hand on the wheel, the other one on the shifting gear. He makes it look so easy as he steers the wheel whenever he is turning a corner while his other one easily moves around the shifting gear, his tattoos are peeking from under his rolled up shirt sleeve. He catches you staring and you feel a blush burning on your cheeks as you turn your head to the other side. Maybe you shouldn’t have drunk that third beer…

“Am I really seen that rigid by the students?” he speaks up after a while and you turn back to face him.

“What do you mean?”

“You said I’m known about not mingling with students.”

“Well, you don’t mingle, do you? But it doesn’t mean you come off as rigid. More like… closed-off. Private.”

“I know I should be a little friendlier, but I just…”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, I think everyone gets it why you’re like that.”

“Do they?” he arches an eyebrow.

“Well, you’re obviously a ladies’ favorite, but it doesn’t sit well with you being a person of some sort of power. It’s clear that you don’t want anyone to get the wrong picture about you. I’ve seen how bluntly girls are flirting with you, some of them are quite scandalous if you ask me,” you huff to yourself. “I totally get it that you don’t want even just a rumor to spread about you.”

“Didn’t think I was that obvious,” he admits, running his tongue over his lips.

“Don’t worry about it, you’re still a highly fancied professor, in all means,” you tell him with a warm smile.

“Does this mean you also fancy me?” he suddenly questions and your lips part at his words. He quickly realizes how ambiguous he just sounded. “I mean, am I one of your favorites? Where do I stand in your chart of professors?”

You can’t tell for sure because of the lack of lighting, but you could have sworn there’s a light blush on his cheeks as he corrects himself. Because of this, you don’t know for sure if he really meant it academically. Either way, the answer is the same.

“You’re my favorite,” you confidently state and your eyes meet for a moment before he turns back to face the road.

The rest of the ride is pretty quiet, you keep giving him directions to your place until you finally arrive a little before one am.

“Well, thank you for the ride,” you smile at him, grabbing the door handle.

“See you on Monday,” he nods shortly and watches as you get out of the can.

“Yeah, see you, professor,” you smirk before shutting the door and walking up the stairs and disappearing in your building.

“Was that Professor Styles in the fucking minivan?!” Nat throws the question at you the moment you open the front door.

“Jesus, why are you still up?” you sigh, shutting the door and shimmying yourself out of your coat.

“Because we were waiting for you!” Eden rolls her eyes. “So, care to tell us what the fuck just happened?” The three of you get comfortable on the couch and you give them a quick rundown of your evening from meeting Victor through being saved by Harry right to him offering to drive you home and they listen to you with wide eyes in complete shock that you just spent your entire evening with the most handsome professor on campus who also happens to be the most private as well.

“If I didn’t see him sitting in that van with my own eyes I would straight up think you’re lying, but I saw his tattooed hand over the windshield,” Nat gasps, processing the story.

“I know, I still feel like it didn’t happen, but it did.”

“And what is he like around his friends? What are his friends like?” Eden questions, hugging her knees to her chest.

“He is pretty much just like in lecture, just jokes a little more and he has a looser vocab. His friends are hilarious, I really got along with Sarah.”

“I know you still think it won’t happen, but I actually think you have a shot at him, Y/N,” Eden points it out and you just chuckle.

“Why, because he saved me from my douche ex?”

“No, because he let you stay for the night with him and his friends. This is literally the first ever time a student hung out with him.”

“It’s not that big of a deal, Harry is a reserved and private person—“

“Harry?!” they gasp at the same time.

“You are now just casually calling him Harry?” Nat asks with ogling eyes.

“Well, yes, he asked me to, because it felt weird that I was calling him Professor Styles with his friends around.”

“Okay, I’m giving it… let’s say, he seems to be moving pretty slow, but y’all will be fucking in about six months,” Nat bluntly tells you and it makes you laugh.

“Oh, sure, whatever. I’m gonna shower and head to bed, you two don’t get too crazy with your fairytales,” you wave at them before disappearing in the bathroom.

The rest of the weekend goes by uneventfully, outside of the pathetic attempt from Victor to get you to talk to him, but you’ve had enough of him for a life so you finally block his number and hope you won’t ever see him again.

Both you and Eden oversleep on Monday morning, skipping your early morning lecture and already being late for Harry’s class as well, so you barely make it to Harry’s class in time, just sprinting up the rows, flopping down to your usual seats when Harry starts the lecture. It all goes as usual as if nothing really happened during the weekend, Harry doesn’t seem to be bothered by it at all. Glancing over at his desk you spot the book he promised you and you can’t hold your smile back. Still grinning, your eyes accidentally meet with his gaze and he stops for a heartbeat as if he is questioning why you are so smiley, but you just shake your head and he carries on before anyone could suspect a thing.

“I gotta run, my favorite TA is having his office hours now and I have a few questions for him. See you at home?” Eden asks once the lecture is over and you are getting ready to leave.

“Sure, have a good day!” you call after her and she sings a ‘you too!’ before running out of the room.

You pack up and head down between the rows, Harry spotting you right away and you go up to him without him even asking you to.

“Hey, sorry we were a little late to class this morning,” you tell him and he just shakes his head kindly.

“No worries. How… is your arm?” He furrows his eyebrows, his gaze wandering down to your forearm where Victor grabbed you on Saturday.

“Oh, it’s fine. I just have a little bruise,” you shrug, because it really isn’t that big deal, but you can tell Harry is still outraged by what happened.

“M’sorry about that.”

“It’s fine. Would be worse if you weren’t there,” you smile at him kindly and he nods to himself before turning to his desk.

“I, uhh, I brought the book we talked about,” he shyly says grabbing it from the desk. As people are exiting the room you can feel the glares on yourself, most of them are probably trying to figure out why Harry is talking to you for so long, but you don’t pay much attention to them as you take the book he hands you.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to pay for it?”

“No need, keep it, it’s yours,” he shakes his head with a small smile.

“Thank you then.” You slide the book into your bag before looking back up at him. “Well, I’ll see you on Wednesday, professor,” you smile warmly before heading out.

“See you!” he calls after you before you close the door behind you.

The week carries on as usual, you are working on papers that needs to be turned in before the fall break so you spend some extra time at the library, using every bit of free time you have so you finish everything on time.

Things go back to kind of normal with Harry, he greets you in the mornings when you walk into the lecture hall and other than the warm smile he occasionally gives you, nothing has changed.

Friday however brings a surprise, but not from Harry. You’re sitting at work in the afternoon, typing away on your computer, filling in some sheets when you get a notification on your phone from Instagram.

Sarah Jones is now following you!

You tap on her profile but see that it’s private so without a second thought you request following. Luckily, she approves you only a few seconds later and you gain access to her posts, quite a few of them featuring Harry on them.

Photos of birthdays, weekend getaways, band practices and performances, Harry makes a lot of appearances on her feed and you find yourself scrolling all the way down until you reach the first few posts from 2016. Just as you are about to leave her profile you get a message from her.

Sarah: Hey Y/N! Charlotte and I’ve been talking about you recently, loved having you with us last Saturday! Want to grab a drink with the two of us this weekend?

Y/N: Would love to, but I’m not sure Harry would like the idea…

Sarah: He won’t be there and besides, who is he to tell you who you can and can’t hang out with?

She is right. You enjoyed spending time with them as well and Harry has little to no word in if you want to meet up with his friends or not. This invitation has no connection to him being your professor.

Y/N: Alright, I’m down!

 This is how your friendship with Sarah and Charlotte starts. You meet up with them on Saturday and have an amazing time, they are definitely fun people to spend time with and though at first you feel hesitant to get closer to them, you soon forget about your doubts and just enjoy your time with them.

Your little girls night goes so well that they invite you out for dinner on Wednesday with Mitch joining the little trio. You learn that he is a quiet but hilarious guy, he and Sarah make a great couple, you think.

“We have a gig this Saturday at Green Light, want to come?” Charlotte asks at the end of the dinner.

“Okay, I really don’t think Harry would be a fan of that idea,” you point out, feeling like it’s surely over the lines. He still doesn’t know about you meeting some of his friends without him and you’re not sure how he would react if he did.

“Harry can fuck off, not everything is about him. We are inviting you as our friends, he just happens to be in the band as well,” Sarah rolls her eyes, clearly not as bothered by the situation as you are.

“I just don’t want to make him uncomfortable.”

“He is a big boy, he’ll get himself over it, don’t worry. So, are you coming?”

“I guess, alright,” you nod with a soft chuckle.

 Next week you contemplate telling Harry that Sarah invited you out for their gig, but at last you decide against it, something is telling you he would try to talk you down and now you’re pretty hyped to see them perform. So you keep quiet and just brace yourself for the worst when Saturday comes.

You don’t overdress for the occasion, decide to wear some light washed mom jeans and a simple sweater tucked into it, a casual look for a night out.

Even when you’re on your way to the place you are having second guesses whether it’s a good idea or not, but you tell yourself it’s not that big of a deal and if Harry flips, you’ll just tell him you came for Sarah and Charlotte.

As you get off the bus and walk towards the place, you immediately spot the little group of three next to Harry’s minivan, Sarah waving in your way as you become visible in the streetlights.

“There she is!” she beams happily and you just chuckle at her.

Harry is standing with his back facing your way but seeing Sarah’s reaction he turns around and you swear for a moment you think he is about to faint when he spots you.

“Hey everyone,” you smile as Sarah pulls you into a hug and Charlotte does the same.

“Hey, if it isn’t our little trouble seeker!” Adam teases you and you just roll your eyes at him before shyly glancing at Harry who is standing on your left, awfully quiet and deep in his thoughts since your arrival. He feels your eyes on him and his gaze meets yours and just by one look you can tell he is pissed.

Just as you thought.

The group chats a little longer outside before Adam suggests they head inside and get ready for their start and you are just about to follow them, but Harry keeps you back.

“Y/N, can we have a word?”

Staying back you nod, hiding your hands in your coat’s pockets as you look at him, lips curled into your mouth.

“What are you doing here?” he questions, eyebrows knitted together and he looks so damn intimidating, the neon lights from the front of the building tinting part of his face green, but you think red would suit him better with this look.

“I… came to see the band playing, what do you mean?”

“Is this your sneaky way of trying to come after me? Because I thought we had a very clear discussion about my thoughts regarding situations like this and you seemed to understand it.”

He comes off way angrier than you think he should be. Yes, it might be uncomfortable for him to see you here, but the tone he just hit is way too harsh for your liking and professor or not, you are not letting anyone talk to you like that when it’s completely not relevant.

“Okay, calm down. First of all, I was invited here.”

“By who?” he spats.

“Sarah and Charlotte, we met last weekend and had dinner this week as well. Had a great time and they asked me to come tonight as well, so get off of your high horse, I’m not here for you.” You can see the change on his face as the information sinks in and he realizes he accused you wrongly, but you’re not quite done with him. “But if I was here to see you, why does that bother you so much? You can’t avoid meeting students every minute when you’re off-campus. If I came here because of you, it shouldn’t affect you this much if you weren’t worried about something else than me just being here,” you point out and he furrows his eyebrows at you. “If I didn’t know better I would think you’re afraid to be around me because you actually like me, huh!” you tell him with an innocent yet suggesting look. His eyes widen and the confidence in himself quickly vanishes from him, replaced by anxiety and nervous looks as he realizes the meaning behind your words.

“I-I, that’s not—I’m not—“

“Take a breath before you pass out, Harry,” you sigh, dropping the hard act. “I didn’t come here for you and if you want to know I actually thought a lot about canceling because of you. But I genuinely like spending time with Sarah and Charlotte so I’m here as their friend.”

Harry stares back at you, completely defeated, regret filling his green eyes. You feel a little guilty for snapping so hard at him, after all you do understand his point of view, but you genuinely don’t think it’s as big of a deal as he makes it to be.

“I-I’m…”

“It’s fine, okay? Let’s just… move past it, alright?” you suggest and he nods as the two of you head inside, joining the rest of the group.

You stay behind while they are waiting for their time to perform, keeping some distance from Harry so he can’t accuse you again, but you occasionally look his way, catching him already looking at you, but you just can’t tell what could be possibly going on in his head. When it’s time for them to go on stage, you go out to the actual bar area and sit by the counter, not too much at the front but close enough to see everything that happens on the stage.

When they start playing you can’t take your eyes off Harry. His energy behind the microphone just knocks you off the stool and you watch him completely mesmerized as if he has put a spell on you. It feels like he turns into an entirely different person on stage, nothing like the man you see at lectures every Monday and Wednesday. He sings perfectly on key, putting some extra charm into the songs with his little additional tunes whenever he is not singing a line.

But what makes it absolutely impossible to look away from him is because he keeps staring at you, eyes locking with yours for way too long every time he catches your gaze. You try to ignore it, but it’s quite hard when his eyes are basically burning into you, it leaves you breathless.

Once the concert is over you order yourself two tequila shots quickly, because something is telling you that you’ll need the boosting if you want to face Harry after his little performance.

But for your surprise, when you join the band again and get near him, nothing really happens. It seems like Harry has come to peace with your presence in his little group of friends and he actually treats you like you’re part of the circle.

The six of you occupy a table at the back of the bar to spend there the rest of the evening and it’s all good, it seems. A harmless night out with a bunch of friends, nothing extra. Harry actually strikes up conversations with you involved and you feel like you’ve overcome a banter finally.

“Do you need a ride home?” Harry asks at the end of the night when everyone is about to head home.

“Only if it’s fine by you.”

“Wouldn’t offer it if it wasn’t,” he smiles shortly before the two of you say goodbye to the rest of the group and head to his van that was previously loaded with their stuff.

The ride back to your place is now much shorter, it takes less than ten minutes to arrive and you are just about to say goodbye when he speaks up.

“I want to apologize for the way I reacted to your arrival earlier tonight. It was… unnecessary.”

“It’s fine, I’m sorry for what I said after that too.”

“You shouldn’t be,” he shakes his head, staring down at his hands in his lap.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you shouldn’t be sorry for saying something that’s true.”

It feels like all air is knocked out of you as his words process and you stare at him with parted lips and raised eyebrows. When he finally looks up at you, he looks so lost and tortured, you feel the urge to hug him, but you stay still as he continues talking.

“I got mad because I do like you and seeing you outside of school is very… confusing for me. And this is why I’m gonna be very straightforward with you now. I can tell Sarah and Charlotte like you a lot and they are stubborn, they won’t see the situation from my point of view and I’m no one to tell you if you can hang out with us or not. But what I can most certainly tell you is that nothing will happen between us. I’m very serious about this, Y/N. You are very much welcomed to spend more time with us, but I want you to know that it won’t go further than this.”

For a couple of moments you’re only able to stare back at him, blinking completely frozen at his sudden confession. You could tell tonight has been a turning point of some kind, but you were not expecting this speech from him at all and now you are at a complete loss of words. It takes some time before you actually find your voice.

“Okay,” is all you can breathe out, nothing more, but it’s pretty much all you have to tell him. You won’t go against his will and force him to do something he doesn’t want. He deserves the respect.

He nods shortly, seemingly still very torn about the situation and you figure it’s better if you just leave now.

“Thank you for the ride,” you quietly tell him opening the door. “Good night.”

“Good night, Y/N,” you hear him before you shut the door and walk into your building, feeling like you’ve been just hit by a pile of bricks.

Unlike the last time when Harry brought you home, Nat and Eden are not waiting for you in the living room. Nat is probably already asleep and Eden went out for a date earlier and she hasn’t been back. You don’t bother to turn the lights on as you walk inside, just kick your boots off and hang your coat before collapsing onto the couch, just staring into the darkness, Harry’s words repeating in your head again and again.

“… I do like you and seeing you outside of school is very confusing for me.”

“… nothing will happen between us. I’m very serious about this, Y/N.”

“… but I want you to know that it won’t go further than this.”

Harry, your professor, The Harry Styles admitted that he likes you but also told you pretty forward that nothing is ever going to happen between the two of you. It still feels like a fever dream and you’re not sure how you are feeling about it just yet. Hanging out with him was already quite overwhelming, but you were not expecting this confession from him at all.

What are you supposed to do with this information? If he is so set on not taking any further steps, why did he even share it with you? He could have just easily keep his thoughts and feelings to himself and get away with it without you ever figuring it out. It doesn’t make sense.

For the first time in your life, something Harry Styles said doesn’t make sense. That’s new.

Following Harry’s confession you truly have no idea what to do, so you just go with the flow. He seemingly stays the same when it comes to you, friendly, but still keeping his distance. Nothing changes in the lecture hall, he just occasionally asks if you’re alright and you are guessing he only wants to know if you are having any trouble with Victor, but you haven’t even heard from him since you’ve blocked his number and you hope it’s going to stay like that.

You meet up with him and the band a few times outside of school and it’s not necessarily awkward, but you can tell he is keeping his distance from you, he never sits next to you or has one-on-one conversations with you, only if it’s necessary. The only time he dares to be alone with you is when he sometimes offers you to drive you home. You usually say no at first, but he insists, so you end up sitting in silence in the car until you arrive home, say goodbye and end of story.

No one in school even suspects that you’ve made your way into Harry’s group of friends, only Nat and Eden knows about it but they swore to keep it a secret, but you didn’t tell them about Harry’s confession. Whatever it is that’s happening between you and Harry, you would never put him into a situation he is trying to avoid so badly. You sit in his classes like everyone else, but while all the other girls are drooling over him, trying to get just slightly closer to him in any way possible, you sit in silence and think about the precious times when you get to see him outside of school.

Even with him being so distant towards you, you can’t help but slowly start falling for him. He doesn’t have to talk to you or be direct to you, it’s enough that you see him as himself, you see him with his friends, how he acts whenever he is not teaching, standing on the podium. And he is an amazing person, there’s no doubt about that.

The semester is gradually moving forward, once you get back from fall break, you basically move into the library, studying for your exams and finishing up all your papers. December arrives pretty fast and before you realize, the whole town is decorated with lights and Christmas trees everywhere, the shops are trying to lure customers in with all the sales and the Christmas shopping officially starts.

One weekend, when there’s only two weeks left of school before everyone heads home for the holidays, you and Nat go for a shopping trip, trying to buy every gift in time so you don’t have to worry about that at least last minute.

Wandering around the mall you naturally take a trip to the bookstore, always ready to buy something new to read. Nat dives into the cooking books wanting to get one for her mother while you’re just aimlessly looking through the shelves. As your eyes are running through the titles in the psychology department, you stop at one particular book, pulling it off the shelf as you can’t help but smile to yourself.

The secrets of Classical Conditioning.

You flip through the pages and though it doesn’t seem to be a groundbreaking work, it’s just explaining Pavlov’s experiment and further uses of it, you still decide to buy it.

That evening you sit at your desk, the book open in front of you, a pen next to it as you try to think of something to write into it. At first you just wanted to give it to Harry as it is, but you figured it would be a nice gesture to write a few words into it he could always read when he opens the book. After some consideration, you finally grab the pen and start writing.

-

Dear Harry,

I will always think of you whenever I hear of Mr. Ivan Petrovics Pavlov or Classical Conditioning. Thank you for another amazing semester and I’m happy I got to see you without standing on a podium. You are an amazing man, never change.

Happy holidays,

Y/N

-

Last week of school, you go to the Wednesday lecture, the last one of the semester with the book sitting in your bag. All through the 90 minutes class as Harry is having an open discussion about the lecture with the students, you keep debating whether you should give him the book or not. When the lecture is over and Harry wishes everyone happy holidays, you grab it from your bag and holding it to your chest you wait until there’s only a few people in the room. Eden has already left to hand in a paper so you walk down the rows on your own, eyes on the man behind his desk who is now packing up his papers and notes, getting ready to leave.

“Harry?” you faintly speak his name, grabbing his attention as he looks up at you from behind the desk. You glance down at the book in your hands and before you could change your mind, you place it down in front of him. “This is… for you.”

His gaze wanders down to the book, then back at you as he stares at you in awe, obviously surprised by the gesture.

“What’s this for?”

“Christmas gift?” you answer unsurely with a nervous chuckle. “I just saw it at the store and… thought of you.”

“Y/N, I can’t—“

“Yes you can and you will,” you roll your eyes at him, tired of hearing all these negations from him. He can’t, he won’t, he shouldn’t… for once, he definitely will if it’s on you. “Take it as my payment for the book you gave me.”

His eyes soften at you before he looks down at the book again, reading the title before he chuckles to himself.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he then finally says, accepting that you won’t let him return the gift under any circumstances.

“Have a nice Christmas, Harry,” you smile at him shyly, hands holding onto the strap of your bag as you start walking away.

“You too,” he faintly says and turning around you start walking, but then he stops you. “Y/N, wait!”

You stop in your track and face him curiously. He seems hesitant, stepping away from the desk, walking closer to you but still keeping some distance between the two of you.

“Do you… have plans for New Year’s Eve?”

“I, uhh—No, not yet.”

“If you happen to be back in town by then… Sarah is having this little get together. I have a feeling she already invited you, but if you said no because of me, I want you to know that it’s fine by me. Would be nice if you could come.”

He is right, Sarah did invite you over, but you kindly declined thinking Harry wouldn’t appreciate if you spent it with them. You wanted to give him a breather, have a night with his friends without having to avoid you all the time, but it seems like the situation has changed for him.

“You don’t have to invite me just because I gave you a gift, Harry.”

“It’s not about that,” he shakes his head softly. “I can tell you are getting along well with Sarah and all the others. I want you to know that I would never stand in the way and you are very much welcomed at any and all events.”

He seems and sounds genuine, you don’t see any sign of him just saying it because Sarah asked him to or something. No, this definitely came from him.

“Okay, I’ll… think about it,” you tell him with a warm smile. “See you around,” you wave at him before walking out of the room.

You don’t get to see his reaction to the words you wrote into the book and for a while, you’re not even sure he saw it. Maybe he took it home and put it on his shelf without even having a look into it, but two days later, when you’re already packing, getting ready to go home for Christmas, you get a notification that at first confuses you.

Breakfast is now following you!

You open Instagram with furrowed eyebrows as you go to the profile that just followed you. It’s a small account and private, of course and you almost close it thinking it’s just someone random when you see that it’s followed by both Sarah and Charlotte.

Could this be Harry’s profile?

The username is colazione8, it doesn’t give away much but now that you are thinking about it, it’s perfect if he wanted to stay unnoticed by his students that surely can use Instagram way better than him.

You tap on the follow request button and anxiously wait for an approval, hoping that the person behind the account is still online. You wait and wait, slowly losing hope but then the notification finally arrives. Your request has been approved.

You tap on the profile vigorously and three pictures appear in front of you. One is a picture of some random building, the first ever posted is a plate of nicely served breakfast of some sort and then there’s one that features the person you were desperately hoping to see.

It’s a picture of Harry sitting at a big dining table, a glass of wine in front of him as he is squinting his eyes towards the camera. You zoom into the picture just to make sure it’s him, but his features are clearer than daylight, it really is Harry that just followed you.

You’re still stalking his very private and not too eventful profile when you get a message from him, making your heart skip a beat.

Harry: Hey! Just wanted to thank you again for the gift, it’s really thoughtful. Read what you wrote in it… thank you, Y/N.

Y/N: I meant every word. Thank you for everything you did this semester!

It takes a few minutes for a response to arrive from him.

Harry: Are you already on your way home?

Y/N: Not yet, leaving tomorrow morning.

Harry: If I drop by your place in 20, can you come down for a sec?

Y/N: Sure!

Though your response seemed totally cool, you started panicking right away. What does this mean? Why is he coming here? Are you in trouble? You couldn’t be, you didn’t do anything wrong.

You quickly change out of your worn-out sweats and stained shirt, putting on a pair of jeans and a black hoodie, not wanting to see him looking like a total wreck. You sit on your bed, anxiously checking your phone every ten seconds to see if he has messaged you and those twenty minutes never seem to pass.

Then your phone finally chimes again.

Harry: I’m here.

Y/N: Be there in a sec.

You jump into a pair of trainers and grabbing your keys from the little sidetable you have in the hallway you storm out of the apartment, running down the stairs. As you walk out you stop in your track for a second, for some reason you were expecting the minivan, but this time, it’s a black Range Rover that’s parked in front of your building and Harry emerges from it the moment you step outside.

“Hey!” he smiles at you, shutting the door before he jogs around and you notice the little gift bag in his hands.

“Harry, is this what I think it is? Because you shouldn’t have, really,” you tell him right away as he stands in front of you, glancing down at the little bag in his hands.

“What? So you are allowed to give me a gift, but I’m not allowed to do the same?” he asks with a cheeky smile.

“But you already gave me one!”

“That wasn’t a real gift, so no,” he shakes his head, too stubborn to let it go. So instead, he nervously glances down at the little bag before handing it to you. “Here. Happy Christmas. But you can only open it when I’m gone, alright?”

“Why?”

“Just… please,” he breathes out and you not, keeping your curious hands to yourself.

“Alright. Well, thank you, Harry.”

“Sure. Um, have a great winter break and… I’ll see you around,” he smiles, walking around the car back to the side of the driving seat.

“You too, Harry. See you!”

You see him drive away as you walk back into the building, basically running up the stairs to your apartment, dying to see what’s in the little bag. Once you are locked in the safe haven of your room, you throw yourself to the bed and reach into the bag, finding a small box. One that’s usually used for jewelry. You pull it out with shaky fingers and take a deep breath before opening it.

Inside sits the cutest little silver ring you’ve literally ever seen. It’s thin and very detailed, tiny little strawberries lining next to each other and that’s the whole ring. Just the little strawberries, but it’s still the cutest you’ve ever seen. You put it on and it fits perfectly on your ring finger, holding up your hand you take a good look at how it sits on your finger. You’re in love with it.

Rolling to your back on the bed you stare up at the ceiling with a heavy heart aching for a man you know will never be yours, but you just can’t help it. The heart wants what it wants, right?

Reaching for your phone you type him a quick message

Y/N: Harry, thank you so much! It’s beautiful! But you shouldn’t have bought me anything!

Harry: I’m glad you like it :)

Y/N: I love it.

He doesn’t respond, just likes your message.

Christmas is always the same, especially because your family just never had those juicy dramas that could ruin any family events. Holidays have always been quiet and loving, pretty predictable. It’s good to be home again and spend quality time with your loved one, though your mind keeps wandering to a particular someone.

Sarah mentioned that Harry has traveled home to his mom and sister and from time to time you catch yourself thinking about what he could be possibly doing at the moment.

The only interaction between the two of you is when you post a photo with your sister and brother at Christmas dinner and he likes the photo, but nothing more. He doesn’t post or add to his story so you are left with your own elaborate fantasies of what he could possiblybe doing at home.

Sarah convinces you to spend the New Year’s Eve at hers and you are accepting the invitation a lot easier now that Harry has told you he is fine with you joining.

Just one day before the 31st you get back to your apartment and spend the second to last night of the year spiraling about the whole situation with Harry. Where are you two standing as of right now? Was his gift a gesture with a deeper meaning behind it?

You can’t step over the fact that you are not his student anymore. He has officially graded you and you’ve received your credits for his class, the ties are off, but he situation might still be risky and you doubt Harry is willing to change his mind about what he told you earlier. He made it clear that nothing will ever happen between the two of you, however you can’t help but feel a little hopeful that the new semester might bring a change into that.

After two hours spent in front of your closet and at least three mental breakdowns you finally decide to wear a black turtleneck dress which is just the perfect mixture of modest and sexy at the same time. You feel anxious to see Harry again, not sure how to act around him following your little gift exchange. There’s a chance he’ll just shut himself off once again and avoid you all night, you can’t tell.

Sarah’s place is already buzzing by the time you arrive, several guests are lounging in the living room and kitchen, some soft music is playing and it appears that everyone is enjoying the evening so far, judging from the laughter you hear from time to time.

“I’m so glad you came!” Sarah envelopes in a tight hug when you arrive.

“Thank you for inviting me. Here, brought some snacks,” you hand her the grocery bag you picked up on your way, not wanting to arrive empty-handed.

“Oh, you are an angel, some on in, make yourself home, take whatever you want to eat or drink!” she gestures around before bringing the bag into the kitchen.

The cozy home is already filled with a lot of people you don’t know, but you also spot Charlotte and Mitch right away so you take the safe spot in their little circle. You try your best to stay present in the conversation but you keep glancing around, looking for one particular person.

And then you finally see him. Harry emerges from the little hallway that leads to the bedroom and bathroom with Adam, seemingly deep in conversation as he nurses a beer in his hand. His checkered slacks and vintage printed t-shirt makes him appear so casual, if you didn’t know him you wouldn’t even guess that he is actually a professor.

Harry laughs at something Adam just told him and his eyes glide around the room until they find you standing near the kitchen. He stops in his track, gaze running down your figure before it returns to your eyes and he seems to be in awe, like he doesn’t entirely believe it’s you he is seeing even though he knew you’d be coming. There’s nothing you want more than to run across the room and throw yourself into his arms. You spent way too much time thinking about him during Christmas and seeing him in the flesh now is a mixture of feelings you can’t really describe just now.

Neither of you leaves the conversation you are in the middle, but you keep glancing towards each other. You’re nervously moving the strawberry ring around your finger, feeling his burning gaze on your figure all the time. You haven’t taken it down since he has given it to you, it partially made it harder for you to stop thinking about him, because the jewelry was quite a loud reminder every time you glanced down at your hands.

Two drinks later your sister calls you, as always she wants to say happy new year before the lines get hectic at midnight, so you move out to the small balcony facing the street as you talk to your sister. The spicy night air feels amazing on your heated up skin, the turtleneck dress was a good choice, but it’s definitely getting hotter with each drink, especially with Harry’s lingering eyes as well. When you end the call you decide to stay outside a little longer, take a few moments to yourself.

You jump a little when you hear the sliding door open and you’re surprised to see Harry walk out.

“Hey, thought you might need this,” he smiles softly, holding a blanket in his hands.

“Oh, thank you,” you mumble and let him wrap it around your shoulders. It provides just enough heat that your lips are not shaking anymore from the cold.

“What are you doing out here alone? Not enjoying the evening?”

“I am, I was just on the phone with my sister.”

“She’s older than you, right?” he asks and you tilt your head a little looking at him.

“How do you know that?”

“I, uhh… You have a lot of pictures with her on your Instagram,” he admits with a nervous chuckle.

“Have you been stalking my profile?” you tease him, but he clearly takes it way more serious than you intended it to be.

“No, I swear it’s not like that, I just—“ he stammers but you cut him off placing a hand on his arms that are crossed over his chest.

“Harry, I was just teasing you. It’s fine,” you assure him, giving him a gentle squeeze before you are about to pull your hand back, but his hold stops you. He takes your hand in his, gently bringing it closer to his face as he examines the ring sitting on your finger.

“You’re wearing it,” he breathes out, a small cloud emitting from his pink lips as his thumb softly runs over the ring.

“Of course. I told you I love it.”

You can’t ignore the shiver that runs down your spine at the feeling of his warm palm against yours, his thumb delicately running over not just the ring, but down your finger as well before he lets go of your hand. You already miss his touch.

“So, how was Christmas?” he asks clearing his throat.

“Good, nothing extra. What about yours?”

“Same, went home to the family.”

“Do you often visit them?”

“Not as often as I would want to, but I’m trying to go every couple of months.” Harry turns towards the street, eyes running along the not too busy road that stretches past Sarah’s building. His hand comes up to the railing, fingers slightly drumming on it. “How come you didn’t bring anyone tonight?”

“Well, my roommates are still home and I also didn’t think you’d like the idea to have another student of yours around.”

“Right, yeah,” he nods, but you can tell something else is still on his mind. “So… no boyfriend to bring?”

You give him a puzzled look. Is this his way of asking if you are seeing anyone at the moment? Because if it is, it’s kind of ridiculous.

“No, not really. I guess you can say I’m not looking for one actively.”

“How come?” he asks with raised eyebrows, his body turning towards you as he leans against the railing. You give him a ‘really?’ look. You think about getting a little sassy and teasing with him, but then decide to just be straightforward instead.

“Because I’m kind of into my Methodology of Cultural Anthropology professor.”

Harry’s lips part as his eyes pierce into yours and for a moment you really think that he is about to flip, tell me how dare you say such thing to him and curse you out, but a second passes and his gaze softens as he lets out a shaky breath.

“Y/N…”

“What? I just answered your question,” you innocently shrug, looking away from him. Despite this long and weird game the two of have been playing these past months, this is the first time you openly admitted that you have a thing for him.

“You know how complicated it is and I told you that nothing can happen.” He shakes his head in defeat, a hint of disappointment in his tone, but it just grinds your gears.

“What, so you can ask about my dating life but I can’t say that I’m into you? How is that fair?”

“That’s not the same.”

“Well I think it is. Both are highly inappropriate to bring up in our situation, don’t you think? Yet you’re trying to put all the blame on me.”

“Alright, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. Let’s just… forget about it. I really don’t want to fight with you.”

“Because you’re afraid I might actually win?” you sassily reply, crossing your arms on your chest.

“I’m just trying to do the right thing, okay? Would you… let me?”

“If you haven’t realized it yet, I’m trying really hard to stay in my lane, but you’re not making it any easier.”

“I’m trying too, okay?” he growls, clearly losing his calmness at this point. “I’m really fucking trying, Y/N, but it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do!”

“You’re the one making it hard!”

“It’s not my fucking fault I can’t stop thinking about you!”

“Well it’s not my fault either!” you snap at him, both of you raising your voice, the rest of the party oblivious about the screaming match the two of you are having on the balcony. “If you’re so set on not letting anything happen, why do you come to me and act the opposite?”

“The opposite?!”

“Yes! It’s not quite appropriate to gift your student with a ring or ask them about their dating life. Or is it all new information to you?”

“You started with the gifting!”

“So what? You could have just left it there, but you didn’t. It’s not that it didn’t make me happy, but don’t try to put all the blame on me for saying something when you’re already crossing the lines.”

Harry stares at you with a hard look and you’d pay great amounts to actually read his thoughts at this moment. His jaw clenches as he exhales sharply, eyes turning away from you, as if he couldn’t even bear to look at you.

“Make up your fucking mind,” you growl under your breath as you push your way past him and walk inside before he could get a word out.

For a well-respected, educated and smart man, Harry can act pretty fucking stupid, you think. He is not being fair and you will not apologize for anything you’ve said. If he doesn’t want anything to do with you, he needs to stay in his lane and not dance on the line, poking the sleeping lion. He doesn’t get to fuck around and then put all the blame on you, that’s just not how it works and he needs to learn that.

In the last hour that’s left until midnight you mingle with the guests and try to keep your thoughts of Harry at bay, though it’s quite the challenge since he lingers around you, keeping his eyes on you all the time, as if he is trying to piss you off or something, but you’re determined to be a mature adult and keep your composure.

You’re getting tired of this game and you’re not sure anymore if you are willing to wait around until Harry makes his mind up. Not when he doesn’t keep his own rules at least.

“Come on,” you mumble to yourself as you’re trying to open up a new bottle of wine, but the screw just wouldn’t move, no matter what you do. A hand reaches forward and wraps around the neck of the bottle, interrupting your pathetic misery.

“Let me help you.”

You let Harry take the bottle, biting into your bottom lip as you turn around and watch him easily open the bottle you’ve been fighting with the past ten minutes, he grabs your empty glass from the counter and fills it.

“Thank you,” you mumble when he hands it back and you take a sip right away. He places the bottle to the counter, fingers strumming on the surface before he takes a deep breath and speaks up.

“Y/N, I’m sorry.”

“For what exactly?”

“For the way I acted. You were totally right, I called you out for things that I did myself too, that was unfair of me.” He clears his throat, leaning against the counter with his back side as he crosses his arms on his chest. It brings out how toned his arms really are and you give yourself half a second to drool over that before you take another sip from your drink, forcing yourself to keep your thoughts under control.

“Thanks for acknowledging it,” you mumble, not sure what to say exactly. The two of you stand like that in silence, eyes roaming the guests, something clearly weighing down on both of you, but it’s hard to name and address it.

You can tell he is overthinking, the gears are almost visible, turning in that smart head of his, but you don’t want him to go into depths he shouldn’t. He really is making a bigger deal out of the situation that it already is, but it’s going to wreck him.

“Okay, I want to know, what was the worst way someone tried to flirt with you?”

Harry turns to you with a puzzled look, but you just sip on your wine, waiting for his answer.

“Um, I don’t… really keep track of it.”

“Oh come on,” you give him a look. “I know you have a story. I wanna hear it!”

Your eyes meet and he is searching in yours, trying to figure out what’s the sudden change in your mood when an hour ago you were ready to throw him off the balcony. Truth is you are just frustrated, because the situation feels so impossible. You never had to deal with such an amazing man, knowing he is into you as well, but you just can’t have him. The struggle is hard for the both of you but you can’t blame him entirely. Hating on him because he is not willing to take a risk that could easily ruin his entire life but at least his academic career is just not fair and you won’t put him through that.

Harry sees where you’re coming from and he shoots you a thankful smile before it turns into a smirk as he looks down at his hands.

“Professor Davids from the department of linguistics asked me to be her date for her ex-husband’s wedding.”

“What?” you gasp with wide eyes. “For real?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “She started swinging by my office all the time, trying to chat me up and then one day she asked if I wanted to go with her, that we would be staying at this nice hotel and all… she really thought it was a good idea.”

“That’s very awkward,” you laugh, entertained by the thought that Professor Davids would go so low when it came to dating. “I assume, you declined the invitation.”

“Faster than ever,” he chuckles making you laugh even louder. “Okay, your turn.”

“What?”

“I told you an awkward story, now it’s your turn.”

“Um, the worst was probably a promposal I got.”

“A promposal?” he asks with a puzzled look, his forehead creasing as he pulls his eyebrows together.

“Yeah, when they ask you out to go to prom.” “Oh, yeah. Didn’t know it had a specific name.”

“Because you are way too British,” you tease him and he just gives you a narrow-eyed look, but you can see the smirk hiding on his lips. “Well, anyway, I was dating a guy senior year, but this other one was convinced he could win me over and take me to prom. He brought a fucking mariachi band to school and gave me a serenade in the middle of the hallway while my boyfriend was standing next to me. He asked me to prom so confidently at the end of the song, like he actually had a shot but it was so painfully awkward,” you laugh at the memory shaking your head and Harry joins, finding it quite entertaining.

“He really did that to himself.”

“He did, I felt bad a little, but what was I supposed to do?”

You slip into telling more and more awkward stories, staying in the kitchen you create a little bubble, the rest of the guests don’t seem to exist as you enjoy yourself with Harry. This is the most carefree and loosest you’ve ever seen him around you and you quite like this version of him. So easy to talk to and even funnier than his usual self.

A little before midnight Sarah runs around with champagne, filling everyone’s glass, getting ready for the countdown. You and Harry join Charlotte, Adam and his wife in the corner of the living room as everyone is slowly getting excited for the last moments of the year.

Looking around you see a lot of couples, holding hands, hugging, clearly planning to snog the moment the clock hits midnight and when you glance at Harry on your right you’re convinced he is thinking about the same thing.

You’re not naïve, you don’t think he is going to kiss you, but you still allow yourself to play with the thought just a little. He is standing so close to you, just the tiniest move and you’d be touching him, skin to skin again, feel him under your—

The thought is abruptly interrupted when you feel his warm palm wrap around your hand, your whole body freezing and for a split second you think it’s just an accident, that his touch will disappear before you could even blink, but it stays there. Harry maneuvers his fingers until they are laced together with yours and he keeps a firm hold of your hand, hanging between the two of you, staying hidden because you’re standing close to each other. Your breath catches in your throat and you’re afraid if you dare to move he’ll let go of your hand.

Another version of yourself would laugh hysterically at how worked up you are right now just because he is holding your hand, but the you that’s actually in the moment is about to burst just by this small touch. You have absolutely no idea what it means or why he chose to do it, but you don’t really care about it. You just want to absorb all the heat you feel coming from him where his palm meets yours, fingers braided together tightly, as if he is trying to keep you next to him, like he thinks you are about to disappear and it’s way of anchoring you to him, but truth is you don’t want to go anywhere.

“One minute, everyone!” Sarah sings in excitement as she turns on the TV and puts a huge clock on the screen that’s counting the seconds as well. You shyly glance to the side, finding Harry standing motionless next to you and when he notices you looking, his eyes meet yours. He looks terrified, like a lost little boy and you can’t tell if he is afraid of your reaction or because of what his actions might bring on him. But you want him to know that you are completely okay with where it’s heading.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!” The countdown begins and you inch closer to Harry so you’re pressed against his side, his body heat radiating into your skin even through the layers of clothes you two are wearing.

Harry leans down the moment you lift your head, his face is so close, it wouldn’t take much for you to finally kiss him, do the one thing you haven’t stopped thinking about for months.

“Y/N…” he breathes out and it’s a tortured plea, he is begging you to stop him from doing something he might regret, but you are dying for him to finally sin. You want him to give it up already, you have absolutely no desire to be the burden that keeps him in his lane. You need him to cross the line and stay there.

“I’m not stopping you, Harry,” you tell him quietly, the urge to close the distance between the two of you is burning inside you.

“Seven! Six! Five!” the countdown continues, but it all tones out, you can only see, hear and feel Harry.

“We can’t,” he whines, closing his eyes as he exhales shakily.

“We can, we just shouldn’t,” you correct him, his eyes snap open and meet yours again. You can tell he is so close to finally giving in and let his feelings and desires take control and you will not try to stop him.

His face inches the tiniest bit closer and his forehead is almost touching yours now, you can see every curly eyelash that frames his gorgeous green eyes that are now filled with fear and nerves.

“Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!” Everyone screams together as the clock finally hits midnight while you just stare at Harry holding your breath, praying that he is finally ballsy enough to take this step.

“Harry, please,” you beg, not too proud of it, but you just can’t take it any longer. His hand is gripping yours tightly as he closes his eyes again and for a second you think that it’s gonna happen. He is going to give up the act and finally kiss you.

But right when the moment is burning the most… he pulls back and your heart sinks.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his hand lets go of yours and it feels like your arm is ripped off, tears are welling in your eyes.

“Yeah, me too,” you mumble under your breath, chugging down the champagne before making your way through the living room, determined to leave as soon as possible.

“Y/N, wait, where are you going?” you hear him calling after you, but you don’t stop. You get rid of the empty champagne glass and grab your coat from the rack, storming out of the apartment as if you had somewhere to be.

Tears are streaming down your cheeks as you run down the stairs, almost tripping over your own feet. You hear the other pair of feet running behind you and Harry calling after you, but it’s not stopping you.

You push the front door of the building open, but it’s heavy, so it slows you down just enough that Harry can grab your wrist when you are about to start running down the street.

“Y/N, don’t go, let me explain!”

“No!” you snap at him. “I don’t fucking want to hear your explanation! I’m done, Harry! I’m fucking done! I was trying to be patient and respectful, I didn’t want to make it worse for you and let you do your thing, but you kept dancing back and forth and I can’t keep doing this, so I guess I’m sorry too.”

You’re choking on your own words that echo from the walls, the street is almost entirely empty, the world is still celebrating the new year while you’re at your breaking point. Harry stands in front of you, defeated and panic all over his face as he listens to you.

“I will not sit around and let you play your little games any longer, because you can’t make up your mind whether you want me or not.”

“Y/N I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life!” he snaps, throwing his hands into the air. “That’s the problem! This shouldn’t be happening, but I can’t fucking stop thinking about you, I can’t stop wanting you!”

“Then do something about it!” you beg through your tears.

“I can’t!”

“Yes you can!” you scream at him. “You can but you probably just don’t want me enough to actually do it! And it’s fine, but—“

You don’t get to finish your rant because Harry firmly grabs your arm, yanks you towards him and with one swift movement, his lips are crashing against yours.

It all happens so fast but your body reacts before your mind could process what’s really happening, fists bunching a handful of his sweater as you pull him against you, his hands flying up to your face, cupping them confidently as he kisses you hard and demandingly.

It’s like a fucking dam that’s been broken, everything you both kept bottled up and under control just breaks loose and it’s a kind of a wild fight for trying to devour each other now that all lines has been crossed an blurred into nothingness.

He is the dominant one, but you do some pushing and pulling on your own as well. You’re forced to take a few steps backwards, back arching at how forcefully he is pushing forward, lips smacking against each other over and over again, his tongue meeting yours, swirling and dancing around with yours, a shameless moan escaping your mouth.

His hands roam down your sides and you jumps when they reach the back of your thighs, legs wrapping around his waist. He keeps you up easily, fingers digging into your flesh where your butt meets your thighs and this angle allows you to be completely pressed up against him and feel every single inch of his body that burns for you.

It’s beyond anything you’ve ever imagined, you’re not sure it’s because of the build-up that led to this point or simply the chemistry you two got, but it blows your mind, making you question how you could go this long without ever kissing him.

“Harry, I want you,” you moan when his lips move down to your jawline, kissing and biting on the soft skin, tasting you wherever he can reach.

“I want you too, Y/N,” he breathes out resting his forehead against yours before kissing you again.

“Take me home then.”

“Are you sure?” he pants as you run your fingers through his hair and tug on his gently, earning a whimper from his perfectly pink and swollen lips. You love this satisfied dew on his face, especially because you know it’s because of you.

“Never been more sure about anything in my life.”

You unwrap your legs from around his waist and return to the ground, but not without him leaning down to kiss you once more before he grabs your hand and starts pulling you down the street. You spot his Rover right away and start sprinting, Harry following you right behind with a carefree laugh.

Settled in your seats he starts driving, but you can’t keep yourself away from him. His hand that’s not on the steering wheel is gripping your thigh as you lean over the console and start kissing his cheek, jawline and the corner of his mouth as one of your hands runs down his chest until it reaches his pants.

“Love, if you move further down we’re gonna crash,” he warns you with a shaky breath. “I drank a little too and I’m already fucking gone from kissing you, if you touch me I’m gonna lose it.”

You giggle, pressing one last kiss to his lips before sitting back in your seat. You need every bit of your patience and self-control to stay modest on the way back to his place. Hands gripping his you bring it up to your lips, kissing his knuckles gently as he speeds down the empty streets. It’s still barely over midnight, everyone is still celebrating, oblivious to how important this moment is to the two of you.

You really thought this would be the end. When he pulled away at midnight all hope was lost for you and it broke your heart to know that he will never choose you over his better judgment.

It’s your first time at Harry’s but you don’t really care to look around as the two of you make your way inside the townhouse, lips already melted together as you stumble through the dark hallway, not wanting to let go of each other. You successfully make it into his bedroom and Harry turns on the bedside lamp while you’re already eagerly getting rid of your coat and shoes. He does the same, clothes start to litter the hardwood flooring hastily, but neither of you is thinking about them. Harry scoops you into his arms once again, kissing your lips passionately as he bunches your dress up at your hips until he can finally grip the end of it and pull it over your head.

“Oh shit!” you giggle, the turtleneck getting stuck on your head for a moment before you’re free from it.

“That big head of yours,” he chuckles kissing your forehead.

“Shut up,” you smack his chest gently, pushing him down to the bed so you can straddle him, knees on his sides as you sit on his lap, lips meeting again.

He throws his hands up when you start pulling his t-shirt up and once the fabric is off of his body, his arms wrap around you, pulling you close to his chest. Your skin meets his and it feels heavenly, only little clothing separating the two of you at this point.

Harry scoots backwards and then throws you to the mattress, getting on top of you without your lips ever parting. His hips are pushed against yours and you can feel everything through the thin material of his slacks. Without even knowing you grind your hips, your core meeting his erection in the movement and he moans uncontrollably at the sensation.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he breathes against your lips and you can’t push your smirk down at his reaction.

“Yeah, fuck me, Harry,” you tease him before your lips get occupied once again.

His hands work fast. He unclasps your bra without you even noticing, the straps falling from your shoulders before he gets rid of it, throwing it across the room as if it did something against him. When his hungry eyes fall down on your naked chest you see the same kind of torture in his eyes that was there when he was fighting with himself before.

“Harry, stop thinking,” you tell him, fingers massaging his scalp as you lace them through his hair. “It’s fine, we’re fine.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he questions again and you pull him down for a reassuring kiss.

“One hundred percent. I want this. I want you.”

“Oh God, I want you so bad,” he whines again, lips kissing down your jawline, neck and collarbone before they attack your breasts.

He cups them, licks and bites them, making you a whimpering mess underneath him every time his tongue meets your hot skin. This man will be the death of you. As he moves down your body, his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties and he glances up at your for reassurance once again, you nod eagerly, lifting your hips so he can easily glide the fabric down and off of your body. Harry sits up, eyes burning down on your naked body lying in front of him as he undoes his own pants, pushing them down his long legs until they join the rest on the floor. You push yourself up when his hands move to his boxers, you want to be the one to take them off. He gladly backs his hands off when you reach out and start tugging them down. He kneels on the bed as you pull the fabric down and his erection finally becomes free, making you ache for him immediately. Once the boxers are out of the way completely you want to reach out to touch him, but he stops you, hands wrapping around your wrist before they could reach him.

Your eyes snap up to meet his darkened gaze, questioning why he stopped you.

“Y/N, I… If we do this, there’s no going back,” he breathes out with a pained look. You push yourself up to your knees so you meet his height, hands cupping his cheeks as you pull him into a sweet kiss that he hesitantly but returns.

“I know what you think about us, Harry, but I assure you, that I’m completely fine with it. But if you don’t want it to happen, we can just… lie here. I’m fine with that too. Kissing you was already such a gift for me,” you smile at him, gently pecking his lips.

“I just don’t want you to wake up and regret it. I’m not pushing you, right?”

“If anyone, it’s me pushing you,” you chuckle softly, a small smile tugging on his lips as well. “You didn’t push anything on me, alright? We are both adults and it’s completely fine. We’ll figure out the rest, I just want to focus on you now. Can I do that?”

Harry nods, still looking a little unsure, but you can tell he is starting to settle in his mindset. It’s not just him that worries about the other regretting something. You know how torn up he is about anything that’s about you and though you want him more than anything, you still don’t want to push him into doing something he is not entirely comfortable with.

“Do you want this?” you softly ask, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I do. I’m just—“

“Then it’s all good, Harry. We both want it, nothing else matters for now,” you tell him, wanting nothing else than to finally see him enjoy himself entirely. “Lay down for me,” you tell him, feeling like you taking the lead is a good idea now.

He does as you asked him to, lying down on the mattress, head sinking into his pillow as he blinks up at you, watching you swing a leg over him before settling to sit on his thighs.

“Can I touch you?” you ask, wanting to make sure he feels completely comfortable with you. Pleasing him is your number one priority right now. He nods, lips parting as he watches your hand reach out and wrap around the base of his erected length. He whimpers under your touch, his eyes fall closed when you gently pump him a few times, his cock fits so well in your palms, like pieces of a puzzle.

Leaning down you kiss his fern tattoos on each sides of his hips before placing one to his leaking tip, sliding your hands to the base before you slowly and gradually take him into your mouth.

You’re not planning to make him cum with your mouth, but you’ve been dying to taste him and it’s just as good as you imagined. The way his body reacts to your touch, the noises that leave his kissable lips, this man is completely out of this world and you want to explore every inch of his body.

You bob your head a couple of times, just enough to wet his length and work him up for what’s coming next. When you let him go of your mouth and you move a little up on his body so that his cock can be lined up with your hole, you look at him to see if he is still down to continue. One hand holding his cock, the other one flat on his naked chest, you ask him a question with your eyes that he answers with his hands squeezing your hips.

“I have the implant. Do you want to put on a condom?” you ask him at last.

“I trust you,” he breathes out. “Do you want me to put one on?”

“I want to feel you,” you tell him shaking your head.

“Okay,” he nods so it’s settled.

Leaning down you peck his lips one last time before you push the head inside and then slowly ease yourself down on his throbbing length.

“Oh fuck!”

“Harry, oh my God!” you both moan at the sensation of him finally entering you. You’ve had your fair share of sexual intercourses throughout your life, but none of them felt this good. None of them pleasured you this good so fast and easily, just the feel of him being inside you is making you lose your mind.  

You start off slow, wanting to feel him just right, get used to his size, but as soon as you feel more comfortable, you pick up a faster pace. His fingers are digging into your flesh at your hips as he holds onto you for dear life, panting and moaning at your motions. He glides in and out of you perfectly, setting your senses on fire practically.

“Harry, you feel so good,” you gasp, getting lost in the feeling. Sex has always been a good experience for you, but with Harry it’s a whole different story. As if he just opened a completely new world you never even knew about before.

“Yeah? You’re gonna cum for me?”

“Yes! Oh fuck!”

Harry pushes himself up, an arm coming around your back as he easily flips the two of you over, your back gently hitting the soft mattress. He holds himself up above you, lips crashing with yours as he starts to do the work this time, thrusting in and out of you, his hips smacking against yours forcefully as you both nearing the end.

“You’re making me lose my fucking mind, Y/N,” he cries out, head falling to the crook of your neck and you wrap your arms around him as a shield, holding him tight against you.

It doesn’t take long after that. He is hitting just the right spots, making you moan his name over and over again as your orgasm slowly devours you and washes over your whole body while he is still relentlessly moving.

“Harry! Oh… Fuck!” you gasp, legs and hands shaking and you clench your muscles around him, throwing him over the edge with you. He falls out of his rhythm, his cock twitching inside you as he moans against the hot skin of your neck, coming undone in your arms.

Nothing has ever felt this intense and mind-blowing and you’re now sure you’re addicted to him, there’s no turning back, not that you want that.

He collapses on top of you, still inside you, his body weighing down on you heavily, but it feels just fine. You run your arms up and down his sides, kissing the side of his head as you are both trying to catch your breath. It takes a few minutes for him to come back to reality with you, he lifts his head and moves to the side so he is not crushing you anymore, but an arm remains thrown over your abdomen. His vibrant green eyes are shining like never before when they meet your tired gaze and cupping his face in your palm you pull him in for a slow kiss where you finally have the time to actually taste him without the rushing of your own needs and urges.

“How are you feeling?” you softly asking, knowing well how major this was for him. You wouldn’t want him to spiral and start to self-destruct because of what just happened.

“I’m feeling fine,” he murmurs lowly, his fingers dancing on your naked side. “Just still a little torn if I did the right thing.”

“You worry too much. We did nothing wrong.”

“Not sure everyone would agree with that.”

“Fuck everyone else,” you chuckle and a smile tugs on his lips as well. “I will not feel bad for having the best sex of my life with a hot as fuck man I’m really into,” you bluntly tell him, earning a smug grin.

“Best sex of your life, huh?”

“Not even ashamed to admit,” you nod into the pillow. “How… was it for you?” you shyly ask, afraid his answer might disappoint you. But Harry pulls you closer until you’re pressed up against his chest, his lips capture yours, kissing you fiercely, making your heart skip a few beats for sure.

“Fucking amazing, baby. Probably the best I ever had too,” he admits, lips brushing against yours as he speaks. A satisfied sigh leaves your lips as you nuzzle against his chest once he has rolled to his back.

Silence comes over the two of you, you’re listening to his steady heartbeat, mindlessly drawing patterns over his chest. Lifting your head your eyes meet his and you can tell he has been thinking hard about what this all means for the future now.

“I’m in,” you simply tell him.

“Huh?”

“If you are thinking that I might not want to do this with you, that I just wanted a good fuck, that’s not what I think of this. If you want to give us a chance, I’m totally in.”

“You think we can make it work?” he quietly asks, his voice barely more than just a whisper.

“Of course,” you smile at him warmly. “You don’t?”

“I do, I’m just… there are so many things that can go wrong.”

“Then… we’ll make them right.”

Harry breathes out through his nose, clearly having a hard time to take it as easy as you do and you wish you could magically make all his doubts go away.

Sitting up you put your hands on each of his sides, looking down at him determined to bring out his confidence in the two of you.

“We just have to be patient and careful until I finish. Then we are basically free. That’s just one more semester. It could be way worse, we can make it work for a couple of months before we can finally do whatever we want. That doesn’t sound that bad, does it?” Harry shakes his head, reaching up he tugs your hair behind your ear before running his fingers down the side of your face.

“So we are really doing this?” he breathes out, a small smile on his sweet, pink lips.

“Well, I’m surely not giving up on this, we came a long way to be here,” you chuckle. “Question is, are you gonna give up on us? On… me?”

“Hell no,” he chuckles softly as he shakes his head. You smile down at him and leaning down you peck his lips tenderly.

“Then… we really are doing this.”

SEQUEL: 🌊 AN OCEAN AWAY 🌊

-

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

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[lady-djarin]

whiskey fever

jack daniels x f!reader (one shot)

warnings: fighting, metions of blood, language, smut, unprotected p in v, rough(ish) sex, neck holding, dirty talk etc. under 18 dni

word count: 3,277

—————

“That’s 9 old man!” You sent the man flying with a hearty kick to the chest. His head hit the stone wall with a loud crack and blood seeped into the mortar.

You spun to find Whiskey pulling a struggling man closer to him with his whip wrapped around his neck. When he got his hands on the man, he shoved the business end of his revolver in his ribs and pulled the trigger.

“10 sweetheart!”

“Fuck!” you growled out as you unsheathed your machete from your back and started to fight off more of the men in masks. You and Agent Whiskey were in Verona on a mission after some very sensitive information when things went sideways and you both got caught sneaking out of the compound that you were definitely not supposed to be in. Champ sent the two of you because you had worked together in the past pretty well and you spoke Italian. You and Whiskey had a hate-hate relationship though, he was the most infuriating man you had ever met.

His stupid accent, anoying nicknames and that damn muchstache…

-----

You were bloody, bruised and cut to hell, but you both made it out. Unfortunately, you were more banged up than Whiskey so he had to help you through the door. The compound was on the outskirts of the city and there wasn't much around for miles. Luckily you guys found a small lake house that looked empty to patch yourselves up in. He helped you up onto the counter of the small kitchen while he dug around for supplies. He came back to you with a small first aid kit and began washing off the dried blood.

“Look what you got us into cowboy, we got fucked up and didn't even get the intel we needed!” you jabbed at him while lightly slapping his chest.

“Me? Sugar, you're the one that tripped on the pipe and got us caught!” he punctuated the last word with a slap of a Band-Aid on your arm.

“You know what? This happens every time we're on a mission. Something goes wrong and you blame me! That's not how partnerships work, Jack!” You only called him that when you were really upset, and he knew that. The hard crease in his brow slightly softened and those harsh brown eyes melted into something you've never seen from him for only a split second, then it was gone. You could practically hear his jaw creak as he continued to clean you up even as he mumbled about how you could do it yourself. This was always the routine after a hard mission, you both would clean each other up all the while grumbling and complaining about the other.

“Well darlin’, how are we supposed to get the info now, that you screwed it up,” he shot you an almost joking glare. The anger flared in your belly, along with a twinge of something else just below that. It was your darkest secret, that somehow every time you were around this man he incited something in you that made your neck blush with embarrassment. Somehow, no matter how angry this man made you, the place between your thighs would betray you and react to his snide smirk. The nicknames you ‘hated’ always made your lower muscles clench involuntarily.

Damn him.

“I'm sure I'll find a way to fix it, as usual.”

“Oh please, just about the only thing you're good for is using your little knife and wearing your little outfits!” His eyes lingered to the sweat dripping between your cleavage.

“Little knife! I recall many times when that ‘little knife’,” you made the air quotes as you hopped off the counter and marched closer to him. “Saved your ass many times! And why the hell are you looking at my outfits, old man?” You backed him all the way up against the other counter. You usually wore pretty high neck tops, all black and sleek clothing on missions but it was very hot this time of year in Italy and you were wearing a tank top and some tighter military pants. No matter how hot it was outside Whiskey always wore his signature Wrangler jeans and crisp button up and who can forget the black Stetson.

You were practically pressed against his entire front with your hands poking his chest with every word. The irritation was becoming apparent on his face as you continued to poke him and cage him against the counter with your much smaller frame. His eyes grew dark as you kept yelling in his face, losing all sense of control, saying things you never dared to before but the adrenaline was making you bold.

“God, Jack! You never respect me as an Agent and you know I'm as good as you if not better!” Another jab to his chest.

“You don't act like my partner.”

Jab.

“You take advantage of me!”

Jab.

“And you keep calling me those stupid fucking nick names!”

Before your hand could make contact with his chest, he grabbed your wrists with enough force to shake you out of your ramble and immediately make you realize how much of a line you crossed. His eyes bore into yours with something fierce and dark that you had never seen before, especially from him. His face was a breath away from yours and a sudden chill went down your spine as his gaze burned into yours. The smooth lilt of that southern accent caused a chill to break out over your skin and your core to drip.

“If we are going to get violent sugar, we need a safe word.”

Damn him and that beautiful voice. You're fighting the urge to hit him again and kiss him all at once.

“There you go again Jack, I just want you to appreciate me.” Your voice was lower now and your breath was fanning his face as you spoke. You were unknowingly giving him the most genuine puppy dogs that were just melting his heart. Agent Whiskey was relentless in his teasing but it was his way of showing his secret affection for you. All those years of partnering with him, he secretly harbored feelings for you that even he couldn't understand. The two of you angered each other beyond comprehension but you both had a carnal desire for each other that was hard to ignore.

You were both breathing heavy from the adrenaline from the failed mission and all the yelling and arguing. His grip was still tight on your wrists which was simultaneously making your blood boil out of anger and arousal. The tension in the room could be cut with a butter knife, and it was drowning you and the irritation between you two was quickly dying.

“Oh darlin’, I do appreciate you…” His face moved just an inch closer and if you tilted up just enough, your lips would touch. This man was driving you insane, one minute he makes you want to rip his head off and now you want to rip his pants off. Youre head was now spinning, you felt high and didn't know how to react to any of this. Jack held you there for what felt like an eternity while you both just studied each other's faces, unable to form words. The sexual tension between you all those years was coming to a head and neither of you knew what to do. His eyes lingered down to your exposed cleavage that made his pants tighten in the front. His pupils were wide with something animalistic, but you didn't know if it was rage or want. His gaze made the fury fire up in your chest again.

“God Jack you're gross,” you grumbled and pulled your wrists free. The memory of him looking at you like that would be burned into your memory forever. “Why do you have to be such a fucking dick sometimes? You could have gotten me killed today!” You were still upset at his actions today that put you in harm's way, whether he meant to or not. You turned away from him because you knew if you kept looking at his face you would lose your shit.

“Oh please, don't be dramatic sugar, you're fine!”

“Dramatic?! A bullet grazed my head! God, you are so useless! Why can't I have a real agent as a partner?” You mumbled the last sentence as you walked out of the kitchen into the small living area.

“Real agent?! Darlin’ I'm as real as it gets! You're lucky you have me to save your ass all the time!” Jack was raising his voice and backing you up against the wall again, making you lose your train of thought. You were finding it hard to keep being mad at him when, against all odds, you were hotter for him than ever thought possible. Before you knew it the anger burning through you was being replaced with a feeling low in your pelvis that was all too familiar. His hands came up to the wall on either side of your head to completely caging you in, his body practically on top of you.

“You are the most infuriating man I have ever met,” your voice was softer now, all of the harshness gone.

“Sugar, you better stop talking to me like that.” You could smell his intoxicating cologne mixed with the smell of his skin after the long fight, it was making you dizzy. You would like to say that's the reason you said what you did but that would be too easy.

“Make me.” The look on his face suddenly changed at your words, a crooked smile painted his face as he moved even closer to you. One of his hands moved off the wall and around the back of your head to take a fistfull of hair and yank your head back. Your neck was completely exposed to him and you had never felt more vulnerable. You didn't know your heart could beat this fast, you were sure he could hear it.

“You're gonna regret that baby girl.” Before you could blink, his lips were on yours. It was a mess of violent teeth and tongues and it didn't take long to become heated.  Your hands came out to grab his waist and the warmth of his skin underneath your fingers made a small noise escape your throat. His hands were grabbing at your face and neck harshly as he trailed kisses down your neck and sucked hard on your pulse point, knowing it was going to leave a mark. You grabbed at his belt and pulled his hips into yours and even the thick denim of his jeans couldn't hide the hardening length underneath. His thigh came up to open up your legs and you couldn't hold back your reaction when his strong leg rubbed up against your needy clit. You threw your head back and moaned as his grip turned to steel on your body, groping and squeezing every inch.

You almost couldn’t comprehend what was happening right now, Agent Whiskey, your partner was touching your body and already pleasing you like he knew exactly which spots to touch. You felt lightheaded and hot, almost like you had a fever but in the best way possible. Jack grabbed you harsley by your hair and hips and pushed you up against the counter again before grabbing your shirt and literally ripping it from your body along with your bra. His mouth attacked your breasts as his hands massaged them with perfect pressure. You took the hat off his head before undoing the buttons of his shirt, leaving him in his jeans.

God damn he looked good in jeans.

You wiggled out of your pants, your lips never leaving his, and he hauled you up onto the counter and ravaged his way down your body until he kneeled before you. He kissed his way over your inner thighs like he knew no greater pleasure in the world apart from your skin. His eyes dragged up your body until they met your lust filled eyes.

“I'm not… I can't be gentle, sugar.”

“Then don't be.” The most wicked smile stole his lips before attaching your clit with his expert tongue. A broken moan came out of you as he started to lap at your swollen pussy, making it more wet than it already was. The slight burn of his muchstace was only adding to the incredible pleasure he was drawing from you. As you laid back and your hips were trying to create more friction, one of his strong arms came over you to hold you down while he shoved two fingers into your core. He knew exactly how to curl his fingers to press against the spot that made your vision go white. He was ruthless and was drawing your orgasm closer with every second he continued, never letting up his pace. You planted your hands into his hair and held on for dear life while his tongue circled your bundle of nerves.

“Oh fuck Jack, I’m gonna…” Without letting you even finish the sentence, he hauled you by your waist and pulled you into a bruising kiss. You whimpered in response to the lost pleasure. “Asshole,” you barely managed to breathe out. He growled and grabbed your throat so hard you knew there would be bruises.

“Now, don't make me spank you baby girl,” you nearly crumbled to the ground at his threat. He spun you around roughly and pulled you against his chest with his hand still around your neck. He suddenly pushed you against the cool countertop, gripping you by the back of the neck. You felt him take a step back and before you could steady yourself you felt the hard crack of his hand against your ass. You yelped in response but you didn't expect it to arouse you as much as it did. You rocked your hips backwards into his hips while he smoothed over the red spot where his hand stung.

“Mmm so you like that honey?” You didn't want to give him that satisfaction of knowing you were living for the attention he was giving you and submitting to him was making you more aroused than you've ever been. When you grumbled in response, Jack smacked his hand against the reddening skin again. “Use your words baby.”

You practically rolled your eyes at the fact that he was having this much power over you when just a while ago you wanted to rip his head off. Despite all that, he was making you cock-dumb for him already. “Y-yes,” You couldn't even look him in the eye because you knew you wouldn't be able to handle it. A low graveley humm vibrated through his chest and went right to your cunt. With his hand still around your neck he pulled you into his chest again while his other hand grabbed his hard cock and rubbed the blunt tip through your folds. You melted again under his touch and didn't even register when he took off his jeans.

The precum leaking from the tip was spreading over your clit and making his movements even more mind blowing. Your body started rolling back against him while he kept his tight grip on your throat whispering sweet things in your ear.

I love seeing you like this.

I’m gonna fuck you so well you forget your own name.

I want you to cum on my cock.

Jack did warn you that he wouldn't be gentle but you never expected this. After enough teasing he angled his hips under yours and slipped the tip past your folds slowly before slamming his hips into yours. You both moaned lowly at the new feeling, without moving he was pressed right up against the perfect spot that his fingers grazed before. He began to set a brutal pace while holding you up against him. This angle caused him to hit your g-spot with every single thrust and you were seeing stars. You couldn't form a coherent thought even if you wanted to, Jack knew exactly how to make you feel euphoric.

The cold bite of your hips meeting the countertop with his every move was the only thing grounding you to Earth, otherwise you would swear you were floating in space. He was attacking your neck with sloppy kisses and small bites, groaning into your skin so deeply you could feel the vibrations in his chest against your back. Any resentment you harbored for Agent Whiskey was completely dissolved in the moment. The fact that you two had been screaming your heads off not even that long ago only made your heart race faster, somehow the memory of the argument made this all the better. You were completely lost in each other, a sweaty mess of flesh, kisses and obscene noises.

“I want you t-to cum for me, d-darlin’.”

Jack’s hand slid down your front until reaching your sensitive clit, finally giving it the attention you craved. He quickly circled the bundle with his strong, nimble fingers, pushing you towards the edge yet again. No man had ever made you feel like this, let alone this fast and you knew you weren't going to last much longer. His greedy hands and steady hips were driving you mad and you would do anything for release.

“P-please, Jack, I ne-need to cum,” you didn't even recognize your own voice. He was making you melt under his touch and there was a small part of you that knew he would never let you live it down. Right now, you couldn't care less about how much he will throw this back at you, you were too focused on chasing your high. You hung onto the counter and his arms for dear life, trying to stay on your feet.

“Fuck you f-feel so good baby girl,” if you thought Jack was talkative normally, boy were you wrong. You had never heard him talk so much in your whole partnership. “A-all mine,” every word accompanied by a hard thrust. “Oh fuck…” The sound of these words could drive you to your peak alone. His gravely but warm voice ws intoxicating and it was the only thing your brain could focus on. The worst part is, he knew it. He knew that you loved hearing him say those things and it was furthering the pleasure for both of you. His fingers picked up their pace and you felt the familiar fire rage in your pelvis.

“Oh fuck, Jack, I’m-”

“Cum for me baby, cum with me.”

That was it. The coil snapped and you both were flung over the edge, tumbling through your orgasms. His hips only faltered slightly while you felt his spend coating your walls and you weakened at the knees. Jack clamped down his teeth on your shoulder and groaned the most beautiful moan you had ever heard from a man. You both shuttered as you came down from your highs, you collapsing onto the counter, Jack on top of you. After catching your breath, you helped each other clean yourselves up. In the process of getting redressed, he grabbed your face and pulled you into another burning kiss.

“What was that for, cowboy?” you asked with the biggest smile Jack’s ever seen. He returned a small smile and locked eyes with yours.

“Just showing my appreciation,” he pulled you in by your waist so hard it made you gasp a little. “Darlin’,” he gave you a little wink and smacked his hand against your ass before kissing you roughly.

—————

MASTERLIST

song that inspired this fic!

#agent whiskey smut #din dijarin x reader #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels smut #agent whiskey #din djarin #din djarin smut #fanfic #reader fanfiction #star wars #the mandalorian #pedro pascal #smut fanfiction #Spotify

[bitchassbucky]

.exe

Word Count: 2.4k

Warning/s: stalkers, bucky being a creepo, reader being a creepo. dark!IT!bucky x dark!reader :-) female & male masturbation, voyeurism (i think), cyber crimes being committed.

A/N: this is my birthday gift to @babyboibucky <3 to my boo, I love you and you have a special place in my heart. this is gonna be a multi-part thing, it's too long to be considered as a one-shot, oops.

please enjoy! :D

follow the CTRL series:

i - .exe

ii - .avi

iii - .raw

iv - .png

v - .zip

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4:49 PM

Just 11 more minutes until he can pack his bags up for the weekend.

One new ticket - URGENT

Goddamn it.

Bucky pulled his earphones out in annoyance, just another office idiot who doesn’t know how to print A4 sheets. If the office were to be held hostage and printing out was the only thing that can save them, half of the floor would be dead.

The new name caught his eye, Y/N Y/L. A new hire, it seems like.

Subject: One new ticket - URGENT

Hi, this is Y/N, employee number 0008675309. I’m new here and was told to send a ticket for the equipment request.

Thank you and have a great weekend!

Oh, Bucky’s gonna have a great weekend indeed. Out of pure curiosity, he’s already pulled up your employee file. A cute smile to a cute name. His annoyance dispersing already, just by thinking of ways how he can spend time with you.

Hey, Y/N! Bucky types into the text field, Welcome to the company. I’m Bucky and I got assigned to help you get settled. Do you prefer having a desktop or a laptop? I’ve attached a form in this thread, send it to me once you’re done.

Have an awesome weekend too!

As much as he hates sending out chirpy emails, he can’t help but to smile when you immediately send a reply back.

Thanks, Bucky! So sorry for sending in the request super late. Got caught up with the onboarding. Is it okay if I use my laptop until we can get a unit to my place? PC or laptop is fine with me.

Best,

Y/N

Bucky fights off another smile, rubbing his hand over his stubbled cheek as he carefully types out a reply. Unlike other days, he doesn’t mind staying beyond 5 PM today. It’s not like he has other plans for his Friday night.

No worries, Y/N. He’s already loving your name. Happy to help!

Do you have your laptop with you? I can set it up before you go home for the weekend. I can probably send in the ticket to the guys so you can have your work equipment next week.

His deft fingers are dancing over his mechanical keyboard, clacking away while the clock ticks closer to the weekend.

A ping, another reply from you. You’re new, you’re still excited to make friends in the office. If you only knew how stupid they are, though.

Yeah! I have it on me right now. I actually work on the same floor, I can drop it off there right now.

Bucky glances around his office, looking for any reflective surface he can check himself on. He runs his hand through his hair, taming any stubborn locks that fell out of his low bun. His shirt hangs just right against his huge frame, his pants hugging his figure, accentuating his silhouette even more.

Just as the clock ticks 5:00, a soft knock raps against his door, “come in!”

You are cuter, prettier in person. Your perfume hits his nose and he’s floored—metaphorically.

“Mr. Barnes,” you say, your demeanor somewhat meek and shy. Well, of course, you are. Your frame is nothing against the hunk of the man who just stood up to greet you.

“Bucky.” He prompts, smiling. You reciprocated the smile, but you really weren’t sure what to expect. Maybe a scrawny little dude mousing away on a keyboard?

“Bucky, thank you so much for doing this. I know you’d rather get off of work since it’s Friday and all.”

He hums, taking your laptop in his hands. You notice the rings adorning his fingers—complementing his tanned skin tone and—it’s not appropriate to stare at a stranger’s hand.

Heat creeps up your face as he turns to look at the stickers stuck to your laptop, “you know, I like this band.” Bucky says, pointing to an old sticker, he carefully sets down your laptop on his workstation.

“They’re great,” you muse, taking a seat on a plastic chair by the door.

You take a gander around his small office. There was nothing out of the ordinary but the big black server blinking at the back, so why do you feel trapped?

“Sorry about the temp, we have to keep the room cold for the server in the back,” Bucky explains, noticing how your arms are crossed over your chest. The skirt you’re wearing isn’t doing you any better too.

You stammer out an it’s okay with a small smile.

Bucky worked on your computer quietly, using a USB stick to load all the applications you need to set up a temporary work account on your laptop. After a few minutes, he beckoned you to come here. You scoot over to his desk, rolling the chair forward and beside him. Not too close though.

“So, this note has all your generated passwords. Type those into the app when you first log in, then you can change it if you want to.” Bucky explains, the cursor idles on the screen. He tries not to get too close to you, to give you personal space. It’s a professional workplace after all.

“This app,” he drags a window, pulling up an application, “tracks your hours and your keystrokes. It’s company-mandated because managers want to micro-manage their people, I guess.” Bucky shrugs, his disdain showing through his voice. His tone shifting lower than what you’d expected.

“Sorry, I just hate their new protocol,” his face and voice softening as he looks at you, “it’s a total privacy breach if you ask me.”

You’d normally disagree but something tells you that maybe he’s got a point. Your breath hitched in your throat as he leans closer as if to whisper something, “this note right here? It’s a nifty thing, a little script so your computer doesn’t go to sleep when you’re away. It enables and disables your numlock pad so it counts as a keystroke.”

A smirk finds its place on your face, “well, that’s…something, isn’t it?”

Never in your life would you find yourself flirting with a co-worker but there’s something about Bucky that made you excited. Interested. Intrigued.

Bucky nods, rolling his chair away to fetch a pad of sticky notes. “Another thing from your friendly neighborhood IT guy,” he peels off a leaf and sticks it on your laptop’s built-in camera, “keep your cam covered.”

You give him a chuckle and a playful salute, “yes, sir.”

Bucky’s a modern man. He sees a pretty girl and he gets giddy. He talks to a pretty girl and he gets flustered. But you—you make him feel more than giddy and flustered. There was something familiar about you, and your eyes. Has he seen you before? Met you, even? No, that’s impossible—if he had met you before, he’d surely remember you.

It was 5:34 PM when he gave you your laptop back and sent in an urgent request for your equipment. While taking down the elevator to the lobby, Bucky gave you a few tips on how to ‘survive’ working in the office. According to him, as far as you go in on time and kept your head above the rumors, you’d do fine.

He asked about your first week and he told you about this joint near the building that serves the best burgers and fries.

You’ve got a good feeling that you just made your first friend.

—

The sun was already setting down when you pulled into your apartment’s parking lot. At the very last minute, you turned into a drive-through and got some food on the go. The side trip took out 10 minutes of your time but at least you dodged the awful traffic that was building up by the highway.

Along with your laptop bag and your food, you trudge up to your third-floor apartment. It wasn’t what you wanted—the windows faced the street, the screen door doesn’t lock all the way—but it’s the one you got. As long as it’s got four walls and a roof, right?

You slip out of your work clothes and into some comfy jammies after a rewarding shower; the sooner you can get your food heat up, the sooner you can eat, and drink and then go to sleep.

So while waiting for the microwave to beep, you pry open your laptop. You told Bucky not to shut it down after he worked on it as to not lose your work on another profile, which he understood.

The work account he set up greeted you, along with the bright pink sticky note he stuck to your webcam. That wasn’t real, was it? All those cautionary tales of hackers using webcams to peep on you. Maybe he’s just trying to scare you, like some kind of initiation. Without a second thought, you took off the sticky note. It was kinda annoying anyway.

Clicking the Log Out Work button, your personal account popped into the frame. Your opened apps and documents displaying themselves for you to use. You pulled up Spotify and clicked on the first playlist you saw—which happened to be your intimate playlist.

Sure, the Pavlov reaction is real because halfway through the first song, you already found yourself getting all hot and bothered. This one’s your favorite song too.

You groan in annoyance, your food’s no longer a priority.

Picking up the laptop from the table, you walk to your bedroom, not bothering to shut the door. You live alone, it’s fine. You put the laptop on its loudest setting, setting it on your desk and you plopped down on your bed, the pillows and the comforter pooling on one side.

Your room is illuminated by a streak of light from the street. Your curtains flowing softly with the breeze that just came in.

Glancing at your laptop, you remembered Bucky. How his office smelled when you first walked in. How he stood tall when he greeted you. How he smiled. Those goddamn rings of his.

Before you caught yourself thinking rationally, your fingers are already splayed even over your thighs, caressing the soft flesh of your legs.

Bucky’s smirk and his cologne finding purchase in your fogged brain. Thoughts of him pulling you aside into his office to fool around—voices above hushed whispers as your skin erupts in goosebumps, the chilled air of his office finding its way up to your spine.

Oh, fuck it.

You undress fast, flinging your shirt over your head, dropping it somewhere below the bed. The air in your room making your nipples hard and erect as you pinch them. You breathe out a sigh, the heat of the moment creeping up your torso.

The material of your panties dampening as you imagine yourself bent over his desk, your skirt bunched over your hips as he laps your sopping cunt. Bucky’s tongue exploring your folds up and over until your pussy’s a quivering mess of drool and spit.

Your fingers slip past the band of your underwear. Even you surprised yourself by how wet you are.

God, you met him once and he’s already inching his way into your mind.

But who could blame you? You’ve been all over his Facebook profile when you learned his name via the office’s organizational chart. The first time you saw him, walking around the office with a laptop in his hands, you already knew you wanted to at least formally meet him. A scroll on his page, you found a band that you could tolerate listening to. (They’re okay, just not your taste in music.)

A plan came to mind when your department head told the team that you can work from home from time to time—only if you agreed to use a work laptop, a company-owned one. Your manager advised you to put in the request as soon as you can, for you to secure a unit before the on-hand supplies dwindle.

Deliberately sending in the request late—way, way later—than what your manager told you just so you could pull up the ‘new hire’ card and act dumb.

And it looked like he bought it too.

The image of him fucking you quiet while he grabs you from behind played inside your mind like a memory—a vision. Of how his thick cock would fill you up until your pussy is clenching around him. Would he pinch your throbbing clit, making you squirm and cream around him?

Your fingers are compared nothing to his, that’s for sure. But it does the work for now.

A breathy moan comes out of your mouth as you play with your clit, your cunt dripping down wetness as you continue to fondle your tits.

His hands would make a great addition to your chokers.

Your toes curl and your breath quickens, the coil in the pit of your stomach tightening—white-hot heat creeping up your limbs.

Oh, fuck, Bucky!

—

His ears perked up as he heard you moaning his name.

Bucky was busy watching you enjoy yourself when he got caught in the moment and decided to enjoy himself too.

He was barely keeping himself behaved when you first walked into the floor wearing a button-up and slacks that accentuated your backside. Bucky wished he was the one who gave you the tour and know your name for the first time, but that was impossible—he was in the IT department.

So when he got the news that new hires will be given the chance to work from home, he hoped that he gets to be the one to help you set up.

He was losing hope by the time he got your request, he thought that you opt not to work at home but then there you were, sending him an apologetic email on a late Friday afternoon.

Of course, he happily obliged. He even set up himself a little virtual camp in the background of your computer just so he can continue spending time with you.

Just thinking about you is already making him hard again. Bucky already came in hot spurts of white as he watched you desperately undress earlier. What can he say—he was waiting for you to show your tits already. As such, he correctly guessed that you’d be annoyed with the glaringly bright sticky note he used to ‘cover’ your webcam with.

But seeing you fingerfuck yourself all alone just wasn’t enough for him, he has to have you all by yourself.

#bitchassbucky writes #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky x reader smut #dark!bucky x reader fluff #dark!bucky x reader angst #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader smut #dark!bucky barnes x reader fluff #dark!bucky barnes x reader angst #dark!bucky #dark!bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x reader smut #bucky x reader angst #bucky x reader fluff

[the-iceni-bitch]

Sweeter Than This

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!spy!Reader

Words: Mobile again ☹️

Summary: You almost miss your first Valentine’s Day with Bucky, but you have a plan to make it up to him.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex(f receiving), salad tossing, unprotected anal sex, use of butt plug), violence (standard canon stuff), SMUT, 18+ ONLY!!!!

A/N: Happy V-Day y’all! Here’s the next entry in my Holidays With Bucky series (with so Sam sprinkled in) and it’s a fun one! Unfortunately, the power is out at my place right now due to snow and because my city sucks at preparations I’m probably not going to have power until at least Monday, so we’ll see if I’m able to deliver on my other promised Valentine’s treats for you all.

Check out my masterlist and join my taglist if you want!

Bucky hated clubs so much.

The loud music, the overcrowding, the overpriced drinks. He was absolutely miserable.

It didn’t help that Sam was bouncing around like an idiot, enjoying the atmosphere with a stupid grin on his face. Would it kill the man to act like a professional for once?

They’d followed the target to the Cross Club here in Prague after four days of surveillance with nothing to show for it, and now they were watching him talk to some new player in a VIP booth. God he hoped this would be over soon.

“What?” Buck shouted over the music. Sam had said something, but even with his super soldier hearing, he couldn’t make it out over the thumping bass.

“I said, is Y/N pissed you’re missing Valentines Day?” Sam yelled, his hips still moving in time to the music.

Bucky did some quick mental math and cursed under his breath. He hadn’t seen you in almost 3 weeks. You had to head back to the States for some stupid debrief with Sharon and the big bosses while he and Sam kept chasing leads on Zemo here in Europe. He hadn’t even realized it was Valentines Day.

“Shit, he’s moving.” Sam said, tapping Buck on the shoulder as the mark stood up and moved towards the dance floor.

“Fuck, can’t we go around?” Bucky whined, starting to follow after Sam towards the crowd.

“Y’know, when your girlfriend’s not around, you’re such an old man.” Sam teased. “We don’t wanna lose him, so pull the stick out of your ass and try to look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

Buck just rolled his eyes and trailed after him, doing his best to avoid the writhing, sweaty bodies that kept trying to grind against him. Sam was right, it was a lot easier to enjoy these types of ops when you were with him.

He didn’t know how they managed to keep eyes on the target as he moved through the crowd, but they saw him head out one of the exits and were following after him within a few minutes.

“Hey, Wilson? Where the fuck is he?” Buck hissed as he opened the door to an empty alley.

“Shit, hold on, let me pull up Redwing.”

“I still can’t believe you named that fucking thing.” Buck said exasperatedly.

Sam didn’t have a chance to reply before a motorcycle ripped past the two of them.

“Was that him?” Bucky yelled as he whipped his head after it. “Motherfucker!”

“Calm down, I got it.” Sam said, summoning his wings.

“Oh, I guess I’ll just run after him then? I told you we should’ve brought a car!”

“I could carry you.” Sam said teasingly, giving Bucky a stupid grin.

“Oh fuck you.” Buck said, flipping Sam off as he chuckled at him. “Shit!”

The two of them dove out of the way as a Lexus tore into the alley, stopping just short of hitting them.

“Hey assholes! Happy Valentine’s Day!!!” You shouted as you rolled down the window, a massive grin splitting your face.

“Baby!? What’re you doing here?!?” Bucky asked, beaming back at you.

“I had to get the fuck out of D.C. There was no way I’d miss our first Valentine’s Day! Besides, I missed the field! Now get in, I managed to tag his bike but I don’t want him to get out of range.”

“Shotgun!” Sam called with a grin on his face, making you laugh.

“What?!? Fuck you Wilson! You’re gonna make me sit in the back when this is the first time I’ve seen my girl in weeks?” Bucky said in disbelief.

“Sorry Barnes, you should’ve called it!”

“Yeah babe, you really should’ve called it.” You teased as he crawled into the back of the vehicle with a scowl.

“I can’t believe you’re taking his side.” He pouted at you as Sam climbed after him, bringing the back of his seat up to crash against Buck’s knees.

“There’s no sides, honey, it’s shotgun rules.” You said as you peeled out of the alleyway.

“Whatever, could you move your seat up Wilson?”

“Nope.” Sam said grinning over his shoulder before cursing under his breath and bracing one hand against the ceiling as you swerved around a slow moving van. “Jesus, Y/N! Maybe take it a little slower, we’re still in the city.”

You just snorted before taking a sharp turn at an inadvisable speed, barely tapping on the brakes and sending Bucky sliding across the backseat.

“Put your seatbelts on, idiots.” You scolded as the two of them tried to find something to grab onto.

“Honey, pedestrian, pedestrian, Pedestrian!!!” Buck screamed as he buckled himself in, screwing his eyes closed.

“Yeah, I see them.” You said as you took another turn at the last second, barely missing the man who was crossing the street.

“Oh my god! This is how I’m going to die.” Sam said, his knuckles white on the dashboard as you flew up a hill, the car actually suspending in midair for a beat before crashing back to the street with a jolt. “Stuck in a car with a crazy woman and her 100 year old boyfriend.”

“You’re so fucking dramatic.” You said with an eye roll, glancing at him sideways. “It’s like you’ve never been in a high speed chase before.”

“Eyes on the road!” Bucky shouted at you as an unsuspecting couple started to step off the curb directly into your path.

You hopped onto the walkway behind them to avoid the brake lights in front of you and your two passengers started letting out a steady stream of curses as you weaved between pedestrians and carts.

“Just relax you two, we’ve almost got him.” You said exasperatedly, somehow speeding up even more.

You rounded another corner and the bike popped into view, speeding out of the city at a breakneck speed.

“Shit, gun!” Sam screamed as the biker turned around, hefting an AK-47 and pointing it directly at the windshield.

He and Bucky ducked, hands covering their heads. They flinched as they heard a series of pops, then straightened up slowly when they realized the windshield was still intact.

“Yeah, it’s bulletproof.” You said with a grin as you kept the car steady with one hand, reaching under your seat to grab something. You handed a giant pistol to Sam. “There should be a rifle under the backseat, baby.”

“And what exactly do you want us to do with these?” Sam asked warily as Bucky drew out the rifle and nodded appreciatively.

“Shoot at him.” You said, following the bike around a sharp turn that had the boys bracing themselves.

“Fuck that! If you think I’m sticking half my body out of a window while you’re driving like this you’re insane!” Sam said in disbelief. “Besides the car is bulletproof.

“Yeah, well the tires aren’t, and if he hits one of those while I’m driving this fast, we’re all gonna get shredded.”

Bucky shook his head before rolling down his window and pulling his upper body out of the car, bringing the rifle up to return fire.

“You are both fucking crazy!” Sam said, rolling his own window down and shoving his shoulders out, bringing up his pistol.

The biker turned his focus to Bucky while Sam covered him, and you took the opportunity to speed up.

“What’re you doing, babe?” Bucky shouted into the car as you started to get closer to the bike.

“I’m gonna ram him.” You yelled back. “Keep covering me!”

“Umm, isn’t he supposed to lead us to Zemo? Shit!” Sam yelled, a bullet whizzing by his ear.

“I don’t think he’s leading us anywhere Sammy.”

“Well, we could still get information out of him!”

“Yeah, these guys have proven to be pretty impervious to interrogations, Wilson.” Buck said, gripping the roof of the car with his vibranium hand as you followed the bike around another curve.

“I really just need his phone!” You yelled as you closed the distance even further, now only 25 feet from the back tire of the bike. “You might want to get back inside.”

Sam yanked his upper body back into the vehicle with a curse and Buck slid back inside easily as you pressed the gas pedal to the floor. You hit the bike in a few seconds and sent it and the rider rolling over the car with a thud. As soon as it was clear you slammed on the brakes, sending the vehicle spinning out.

“Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod....” Sam was screaming as the car whipped around over and over, his eyes screwed shut and his hand braced against the roof of the vehicle while his foot braced against the dashboard.

Bucky just clenched his jaw and ripped his vibranium fingers through the back door to hold himself in place, shaking his head at Wilson.

The vehicle finally came to a stop about 200 feet away from where the bike had crashed. Sam wrenched his door open and dove out of the car, bending over and vomiting at the side of the road.

“You ok there Sammy?” You asked, rising from the driver’s seat gracefully and looking at your friend with concern as Bucky almost climbed over the front seat with a wince and joined you.

“Oh, what are you wearing?” He groaned as he finally got a good look at you. “Are you trying to kill me?”

It was a skin tight, patent leather pink dress that was pushing your tits together and up in an absolutely delicious way. The skirt barely covered your ass and he was sure there was no way you could bend over in it without flashing whoever was nearby.

“I told you, baby, it’s Valentines Day.” You sad with a grin as you stepped closer to him.

He moved to wrap his arms around you but you stepped away at the last second, moving back towards where the bike crashed with a light laugh as he let out a frustrated huff.

“What is wrong with you two?!” Sam said as he started to follow after you. “Your girlfriend almost kills me and all you want to do is jump her as soon as it’s over.”

“I mean, did you see that dress?” Bucky said teasingly as he joined your friend, walking a little faster to catch up with you.

“Got the phone!!” You said triumphantly as you straightened back up from your inspection of the dead body. “And it’s still in ok shape! I’m gonna call this in real quick and then we can head back.”

“No! I’m not going anywhere if you’re driving!” Sam said, shaking his head vehemently. “Gimme the keys.”

“C’mon Sammy!” You said with an eye roll.

“You do not get to call me Sammy right now, you psycho!” He said, snatching the keys out of your outstretched hand as you laughed at him. “And neither of you gets to sit shotgun! You sit in the back and think about what you’ve done.”

“Jesus, fine dad.” You said as you slid into the back seat, Bucky chuckling as he slid in after you and slammed the door closed.

Sam pulled the car forward a few feet, turning the wheel sharply before throwing it in reverse and spinning it in the opposite direction as he backed up.

“Uh, Sammy?” You said as he repeated the process. “Maybe just crank the wheel all the way and pull a little further forward?”

“Yeah, it’s not called a 13 point turn, Wilson.”

“Both of you shut the fuck up!! I’m not taking driving advice from you!” He shouted over his shoulder as he did the exact same thing and you lost it, laughing hysterically.

“Oh my god, there’s like 15 feet of road that you’re not using!” You said breathlessly as you cracked up Bucky grinning as he watched you fold over in laughter.

“I cannot believe the shit I have to put up with.” He muttered as he finally straightened out the vehicle and drove back towards the city, doing his best to ignore your dying laughter.

Bucky was beaming at you as you settled down, leaning back against the seat as you wiped tears from your eyes. You smiled back at him and gave him a wink.

“Did I tell you how much I love that dress?” He said as he scooted closer to you, his eyes raking over your chest before sinking lower to gaze at your thighs.

“No.” You said teasingly, biting your lip at him and leaning towards him just a little bit.

“Cuz I fucking love that dress.” He growled at you as he wrapped his hands around your waist and drew you closer, nuzzling himself into your neck.

You gave a soft sigh as he ran his teeth over your throat, flinging one leg over his lap as he moved his vibranium hand from your waist to cup your ass. He moved his mouth up to the hinge of your jaw as he pressed you into him.

“Shit, Bucky.” You moaned as he pulled you onto his lap, his hands running over your thighs to tuck under your skirt as he sucked a bruise against your neck. “I swear to god, if you ruin this dress...”

“Oh, what the fuck guys?!” Sam said as he peeked at you through the rear view mirror. “I’m two feet away from you! It’s like you’re a couple of teenagers.”

“Sorry Sammy!” You whined before letting out a gasp as Bucky nuzzled himself between your tits at the same time he bucked his hips up into you, grinding his hardening cock against you.

“Oh, I do not get paid enough for this shit.” Sam groaned as he pulled the car into the parking lot of the hotel and jolted it to a halt. “I cannot believe I have to put up with you horny idiots.”

“Bye Sam!” You called after him as he slammed the door closed, waving a dismissive hand at you as he started to head back to his room. “Mmm, Bucky!”

He drew the straps of your dress down over your arms and wrapped his lips around one of your nipples as you arched your back into his face.

“Jesus Christ, I fucking missed you.” He groaned before moving his mouth up to yours, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth as he laid you down across the backseat.

“Yeah? What’d you miss baby?” You murmured against his lips, wrapping your legs around him and ripping his shirt over his head.

“Missed the way you smell.” He murmured against your neck as he nuzzled into your hair. “Missed these fucking perfect tits and how well they fit in my hands.” He whispered into your ear as he brought his hands up to palm your breasts, making you whine.

“Fuck, baby. You’re making me so wet.” You said breathlessly as a fresh rush of arousal leaked out of you, your fingers moving to work at undoing his fly.

“Good.” He growled against your collarbone as his he dipped one hand under your ass and pressed you into his hard on. “Cuz I missed that pussy the fucking most.”

“Shit.” You hissed as his vibranium hand ripped off your panties in one quick motion before his hands moved to shove your dress up around your waist. “Don’t you dare fucking rip this dress, Barnes!”

“I’m being careful.” He said with a chuckle before lining himself up. He teased his tip against your entrance before slowly sinking into you, grinning as he watched your eyes roll back in your skull as your lids fluttered, a moan escaping from your lips.

He drew himself out halfway, really taking his time as he felt himself drag against every inch of the warm channel between your legs, then slammed his hips forward with enough force that you had to brace your hand against the door to keep your head from cracking against it. You had to bite your lip to keep from screaming as you came immediately, your back arching up off the seat as your pussy spasmed and fluttered around his cock.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you miss me too?” Bucky said with a grin as he kept fucking into you, watching your chest heave as you started to come down from your first orgasm. He hooked one hand under your knee and drew it up to your waist, spreading you apart even further.

“Shit, yes!” You moaned as his dick thrust even deeper into you, hitting a new spot that had you seeing stars. “Missed this cock so fucking much.”

“Yeah? You miss feeling me in this tight little pussy?” He said as he felt you clench around him, your hips meeting his thrusts desperately.

“Fuck, Bucky! My pussy needs you so bad. Need your big cock inside me all the time.” You let out a gasp as he brought his vibranium hand between the two of you to strum at your clit. You wrapped your hand around his wrist to keep him in place as you tossed your head back. “Need to feel you stretch me and split me open, baby.”

“Jesus, keep talking.” He murmured as he collapsed on top of you, burying his face in your neck as he started moving his hips even faster. “Love hearing you use that filthy mouth of yours.”

“Yeah, babe? You wanna hear me talk about how much this pussy needs your big cock?” Your grinned when he let out a groan against your neck. “My pussy would get so fucking wet every time I thought about that dick. Nobody fucks me like you do. Oh god, right there!”

“Damn, honey. You’re squeezing me so good. You gonna cum again?”

You just nodded before a sob ripped through your chest, your knuckles turning white as your grip on his vibranium wrist tightening and a wave a pleasure crashed over you. Your legs squeezed his hips as you thumped your fist against the door, your torso rolling underneath Bucky as your cunt clamped down on him, making him twitch.

You felt his hips stuttering as you writhed underneath him, and with just a few thrusts he was filling you up, panting against your neck as he sank on top of you, pressing his full weight into you as he came down.

“Oh my god, happy fucking Valentine’s Day.” He moaned into your hair.

“Shit, I still need to give you your present, baby!!” You said with a grin as you ran your hands over his shoulders.

“I don’t need a present, sweetheart.” He said lazily before peppering soft kisses over your throat.

“Oh, I really think you’re gonna want to open this one.” You sighed, wriggling a little underneath him.

You grabbed his flesh hand and drew it between your legs slowly, dragging it over your sex until his fingers brushed against the jewel that was nestled between your ass cheeks. He sat up with a jolt when he realized what you were suggesting, making you laugh excitedly as he gave you a massive grin.

“Oh my god, Y/N, I’ve been waiting for this.” He said as he flipped you over, smacking your ass as you giggled at him. He spread your cheeks apart and groaned when he got a look at the pink jewel of the plug you had inserted earlier in the day.

He gripped the plug and drew it out of you slowly, biting his lower lip as he watched you pussy clench at the sensation. His breath came out in a hiss once it was free, your pretty hole gaping and fluttering at the loss as you moaned underneath him, pressing your ass back into his palms.

“Fuck, I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

He didn’t give you a chance to respond before he was yanking your hips back and up, tossing your thighs over his shoulders. You let out a shriek when he ran his tongue over your cunt in a heavy stripe before dragging the flat of the thick muscle over your asshole.

“Fuck, oh my god!” You screamed, trying to find something to brace yourself against as he ran the tip of his tongue around your rim, teasing you and making both of your holes throb with need.

He kept teasing you with his tongue for what felt like hours, alternating between heavy drags that ran over your entire sex and tiny kitten licks that were turning you into a begging, whimpering mess, a steady stream of slick leaking out of your swollen pussy.

“Gotta make sure you’re good and ready for me, gorgeous.” He murmured, giving you a momentary reprieve before he shoved his tongue inside your puckered hole.

The sound you made was otherworldly, halfway between a moan and a cry. He almost came just from the pure wantonness of it, and he felt his cock twitching against your chest as he started to tongue-fuck you. You pressed your cheek to the leather of the seat as he took you apart, mewling like an idiot as he stretched you open, his thick muscle probing you as deep as he could.

“Bucky...” you mumbled before another orgasm shook you, your cunt fluttering around nothing as a wave of bliss traveled up your spine from deep in your core and making you whine as drool leaked from the corner of your mouth.

He pulled his face away from you suddenly and unwrapped his arms from around your thighs. Your muscles were jelly as he lowered your hips, your eyelids drooping as you moaned at the loss of him. Once he finally had you laid back down, he took a second to gaze at you.

He loved how fucked out you got. Your limbs were splayed out at random angles as your back rose and fell with deep breaths, the curves of your breasts just peeking out from where they were pressed against the seat. He brushed your hair away from your face to see you grinning up at him, your cheeks streaked with tears and mascara and your lipstick smeared all over your mouth and chin as you looked at him with lust blown pupils.

“We’re still not done.” He said softly before wrapping his hand around your throat and yanking you up until your back was flush against his chest, making you gasp. He brought his other hand between you to wrap around his cock and dragged it through the slick that had soaked your ruined pussy before teasing his tip against the rim of your tightest hole. “I think you’re ready for me.”

He didn’t wait for you to answer before shoving his hips forward and spearing into you. Your body tried to jolt forward at the intrusion but his palm on your throat kept you in place, holding you still as he bottomed out.

“Jesus Christ, you feel amazing.” He muttered into your hair, his fingers vibrating over your throat as you let out a whine.

He pressed down against your jugular as he started to move his hips, dragging in and out of you at a deliciously slow pace that had you keening. You were losing yourself in the new sensation of having him fill your tightest channel, his thick cock stretching you more than you’d ever been before. Your head dropped back on his shoulder as he started to move faster, the slick leaking from your pussy making it easier for him to slide in and out of you.

“Fuck, I love your body. You treat me so good baby.” He murmured against the shell of your ear. “Wanna fill all your your pretty holes and pump you full of my cum. Wish I could be inside you all the time, pretty girl.”

Your pussy was fluttering around nothing as his soft praises filled your ears, and when he dropped his hand to the apex of your thighs you almost came immediately with a cry.

“You didn’t think I forgot about this pretty pussy, did you baby?” He whispered as his metal fingers spread you apart, teasing over your entrance as his flesh hand increased the pressure on your airway and his hips picked up the pace. “You want me to fuck you with my fingers while my cock’s in your ass, honey?”

“Fuck, Bucky, I want you to spank it.” You moaned as he continued to tease you, your brain starting to shut down as the mixture of sensations overwhelmed you.

He let out a feral growl against the curve of your neck before wrapping his lips around your earlobe. “Shit, you gonna cum if I spank it?” He hissed in your ear as he kept his fingers running over your sex.

“Yeah, I’m gonna fucking cum! Need you to spank my pussy, Bucky, please.”

His teeth nipped at the hollow behind your ear at the same time he smacked your cunt and you let out a shriek as your body vibrated against him. Your thighs quivered with strain as your pussy spasmed uncontrollably, your asshole strangling Bucky’s cock as you shook in your bliss, his hand around your neck the only thing keeping you upright.

“Fuuuuck.” He hissed against your neck as his hips chased his own release. “I wanna fuck all your holes while I cum, sweetheart, get ready.”

You only had a second before he was shoving three fingers into your pussy at the same time he put two fingers in your mouth, choking you as he shoved them down your throat before you were able to relax. He groaned when you started sucking on him, swirling your tongue around his digits while his vibranium fingers curled inside of you against that sweet spot that made your eyes roll back in your skull.

He felt you clench around him everywhere and let out a groan into your hair, his cock twitching inside you as you both neared your ends.

He ground his palm against your clit and you were finished, sobbing around his fingers as you squirted your release all over his hands, his thighs, and the seat in what was the biggest orgasm of your life. Your body tried to lift itself off the seat as you came, your vision whiting out as your muscles stopped working and Bucky let you collapse forward as he finished.

Another few thrusts of his stuttering hips and he let out a wordless roar as he came inside you, filling you completely with his spend until it was leaking out around his cock. He collapsed on top of you as his body rolled on a wave of pleasure, his breath hitching in his chest.

The two of you laid there tangled with each other for what felt like hours. You were so utterly spent that the passage of time no longer held any meaning, and you completely forgot where you were.

“Holy fuck.” Bucky muttered after a while, still unable to move anything except his face, which he nuzzled into your hair.

“Yeah.” You muttered into the seat cushions, your brain finally resetting.

“I mean, holy fuck.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Yeah.” You said again, wiggling your toes look experimentally as your body started to come back down.

“I’ve never cum that hard before in my life.” He muttered as he drew his hands over your arms until they were pressing into your shoulders, moving your hair aside so he could pepper kisses all over your neck.

“Me either.” You whispered, turning your head over your shoulder so you could press your lips to his softly.

He pulled away once he was able, giving you a sloppy grin as he managed to sit up, pulling out of you gingerly and groaning at the sight of his cum leaking out of you. You twisted until you were able to sit up yourself, leaning back against the car door as you beamed back at him.

“Best fucking Valentine’s Day ever.” He muttered, drawing you onto his lap to kiss you deeply, and wondering if it would be too tacky to tell you he loved you after the first time you let him fuck your ass.

Tags!!!!!

@buckysnumberonegirl @slothspaghettiwrites @captain-asguard @starlightcrystalline @harrysthiccthighss @quxxnxfhxll @bonkywobble @chrisevanscardigan @chubbybuckydumpling @StanAllStarks @blackestpinkworld @fistmebuckyskywalker @wandering-spiritash @khadineberry @muzzyandbusy @slytheriin2002 @isysen @WanderingAlice00 @kaleeelizabeth58 @tlcwrites @angrybirdcr @unsaltedalmonds @amerikakapitanyy @lizette50 @daughterofthenight117 @obsessivereaderchick @drabblewithfrannybarnes @stargazingfangirl18 @jack-skellingtons-stuff @chrissquares @msmarvelwrites

#natalie writes #valentine's day #fanfic #fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky fic #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes reader insert #sebastian stan characters #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan smut #seb stan smut #smut #eighteen and over #eighteen plus #marvel smut imagines #marvel smut #marvel fanfiction #the falcon and the winter soldier #do not interact if you are a minor

[wizkiddx]

work with me

this is for @worldoftom 'lolbrosgetsicktoo' challenge event thing - go check it out bcos lots of much better writers have got involved too✨! I'm v new to these things but I tried :) the prompt was: 'would you quit whining and just get in the bath' . (also look at me acc posting sort of regularly, who'd of thought?!?!)

warnings: sickness / fever (more dramatic than it needs to be) / LOTS of medical inaccuracies

summary: when tom doesn't take advice and ends up very ill, very far from home, there's one person whose stuck dealing with it

“Please Tom… I need you to work with me!”

It wasn’t his fault he was being a complete nightmare, though your patience was wearing off somewhat.

For context, you were in Morocco, where he had been filming part of his next film, which only made trying to take care of him that bit harder.

Everyone got ill sometimes. It wasn’t his fault.

That was the mantra ringing through your head, even if you had a more challenging time believing it. Tom wasn’t stupid, as much as he liked to joke about it. HOWEVER, what he was less good at was heeding warnings. He was a white boy in Morrocco; the health and safety briefing had literally been aimed at him. Had he taken the advice not to eat any dodgy looking meats at the market?

Of course not; that’d be boring.

Everyone else was fine. You’d all sampled Morroccos culture without giving yourselves the worst case of food poisoning you’d ever witnessed. But not Tom - possibly one of the only ‘indispensable’ people on the set. If you, or one of the minor characters, or even the director, had got ill - the show could continue.

When you’d been rudely awoken by your phone going off, you’d known instantly. It was as if you’d told him not to take a bite out of the weird burger once you were away from the eager view of the street vendor. Sure enough, with bleary eyes, you hissed at the brightness of the phone screen before seeing ‘Tom H’ on the screen.

“Y/n?” His voice was croaky, but just from the single call of your name, it was clear he was feeling sorry for himself.

“Are you okay? It’s late T.”

“Um I… can you come over? You…you might need the key I’m - um- in the bathroom.”

As his stylist, it technically wasn’t part of your job description to also be mother when he was sick, but (unfortunately for you) after the 3 years working side by side with him - you were also friends.

Which you were almost regretting by the second time rinsing the toilet bowl clean after he’d evacuated what seemed to be the majority of his vital organs into it. Honestly, it was impressive how he managed to keep going.

That had been at around 4 in the morning- the doctor had been called at 8, coinciding beautifully with his 5th toilet extravaganza. Once the doctor had confirmed your original, if completely unqualified, diagnosis of food poisoning - you hadn’t been able to bite your tongue. Perhaps an ‘i told you so’ might’ve slipped past your lips, but Tom was a bit too out of it to argue back.

You’d been given firm advice from the doctor - he said little sips of water, rest and control his temperature. It all had seen pretty simple - though the action? Not so much.

It wasn’t his fault, yet Tom was not super compliant. You and Harry had both been taking turns in practically forcing him to take sips of water, having to turn off ‘modern family’ till he did. The blackmail had put you both in his bad book.

Honestly, thank the lord Harry was here too. You’d woken him up at seven, begging for help and since then, you’d tagged teamed. While one was looking after Tom, the other was phoning the director, the doctor, and the crew to inform them of the current situation.

Again, of all people. Why’d it have to be Tom?

Mainly because you knew how mortifying he found this. He didn’t like people fussing over him, never had. He liked to work hard, liked to make people happy - definitely didn’t like to feel a burden. Perhaps what made him feel ten times worse was that he knew he was inconveniencing the whole production team massively.

And yes, as you’d unhelpfully reminded him, it was ‘his fault’.

The lavish hotel room, big bathroom and pretty efficient AC still didn’t manage to mask the pungent in-the-back-of-your-throat smell from the bathroom. At the doctor’s advice, who had been a little concerned at Toms fever, Harry had cranked the AC on high. It had forced you to steal one of Tom’s big hoodies and a pair of joggers- you hadn’t left his room since he first called you, still wearing your tiny pyjama shorts and an old tee.

“Please turn the air con off.” His little voice whined from where he was lying, huddled up under the covers. Perched on the other side of the double bed, but over the covers with your laptop on his lap, you could actually feel him shivering with the chills. It felt like you were torturing the poor boy.

“T you know I can’t. It’ll make your fever worse.” The way he looked up at you, like a little Labrador that you were refusing to pet, actually pained your heart.

Okay, so yes it was his fault, but you weren’t mad, you just felt so awful for him.

“Please I’ll- I’ll pay you more.” His voice was hoarse; though he denied a sore throat, it sounded like the constant sickness was burning his windpipe.

“Tommm” you pouted, sticking your bottom lip out “I don’t want your money, want you to get better.”

Apparently giving up, brown eyes shot you the filthiest look in disappointment, rolling to face away from you. You thought he was giving you the silent treatment in a huff, but instead, he was praying on the weaker one.

“Harry, I’ll buy you that set of golf clubs-“

“NO!” You had to interrupt before Harry would say yes - because from the way his younger brother shot up from the arm chair, he was about to. Scowling eyes slowly focused back on you in annoyance, making you huff - shutting the laptop and kneeling on the bed to face him. After pressing the back of your palm to his forehead, which was scorching hot, you sighed. “I know you feel shitty and I’m so so sorry but I’m trying to make you better. So shut up, drink this and go to sleep!”

Like a child scorned, you received another death glare however, then he complied, taking a sip of the water you offered before lying back - huddling even tighter.

And it had been relatively peaceful for a few hours; Tom seemed to be getting some sleep - even if he was tossing and turning. Eventually, a prescription that the doctor had requested worked its way through the system, Harry getting a text to say he could go pick it up. The nearest pharmacy was probably a 30 minute drive from the hotel, so he left as soon as.

This left you alone with Tom, where the situation only descended into more chaos.

Almost as soon as Harry had left, Tom had stirred with a grunt. All it took was one look at his face for you to know. Both of you leapt up and flew into the toilet, Tom once again getting very familiar with the Moroccan toilet bowl.

This time though, when he had leant backwards, he’d sort of lost control and flopped most the way - you catching him before he could hit his head on the tiled floor.

“Woah, easy there!” It wasn’t like he’d passed out, but the look in his eye as he slumped into your lap… he wasn’t all there either. “Hey Tom… you with me? Tom?”

Lazily he blinked up at you, not really replying except for groans of half-formed words.

Deciding this had all got a bit direr, you almost sprinted back into the room, grabbing your phone and returning. He was still on the floor, his thumb and first finger pressing into each eye - groaning again.

“Hey Tom? I’m gonna call the doctor you need anything?” He whined in response, stopping only when you stroked his sweaty hair back, most of your attention on dialling the correct number.

The solution he’d given wasn’t pretty: Tom’s fever was too high hence why he was all woozy and groany. Until the doctor could get over with the stronger medications, you needed to lower his temperature in other ways or take him to hospital. He’d absolutely hate hospital, but the other choice? Boy, was he not going to like it either.

Ignoring Tom’s croaked question of what you were doing, you busied yourself switching on the bath taps. You let the water run until it was the right (very mild) temperate, then turned back to Tom, who’d managed to work himself up to sit against the sink unit.

“The doctor says you need it.” His brain was foggy, his mind was slow but your tone told him enough to know something was wrong with the bath. “Just take your clothes off and then I’ll help you-“

“Absolutely fucking not.” Good. He was still with it enough to argue.

“I am just as uncomfortable as you are Tom, but we both know you can’t stand up without fainting, so you are going to need my help.”

“Y/n!”

“Keep your boxers on and it’s just like a fitting! I’ve seen you have those before!”

It was clear as day just how emasculated he felt, especially because he knew you were right. Sitting up at this current moment was a push; there was no way he was getting in the bath without some help. Defeatedly he nodded, but gave you a piercing look to turn around before he started wiggling himself out of the flannel pyjama trousers and light cotton t-shirt. Most confusingly, he still felt freezing cold, yet he had long since learned not to argue with you - especially when your justification came from the advice of a doctor.

Your cue to turn around came in the form of an extra angry-sounding grunt- the look you got when you did wasn’t much better either. It was a weird contrast, though, having someone who physically appeared so indestructible (a superhero for crying out loud); to have been absolutely beaten to a pulp by a few mouth fulls of weird meat. You had seen his bare torso before, although it still wasn’t something easy to get used to - making you clench your teeth together just slightly. A very welcome view.

Perhaps you looked just a little too long at the man who was technically your boss, hunched angrily on the floor in nothing but his calvins - another grunt shaking you out of it. By now, the bath was almost full and you hurried to shut off the water, feeling your cheeks heat up as you cursed silently to yourself.

“Okay come on, gimme your arm.” Begrudgingly Tom followed your request, slinging his arm heavily over your shoulder as you crouched beside him. As strong as he looked, you knew right now he felt powerlessly weak - all that muscle was just going to be almost dead weight.

Now it was your turn to grunt and groan as you pulled Tom up to stand, him focusing on blinking away the headrush he got.

“Come on T work with me here.” Getting him to the side of the bath wasn’t too difficult, the issue came when he stepped with one foot into the bath and yelped, instantly withdrawing as if it was a literal ice bath.

The sudden movement had you both losing balance, ending with Tom sitting on the edge of the bath and you leaning over him, in between his legs, and slapping your hand on the wall opposite purely so you both didn’t end up in the bath.

“Tom!”

“It’s like ice water!”

“Its lukewarm like the doctor said!”

“It is not its from the fucking arctic!”

“Oh for god sake!” Exasperated, you paced up and down the bathroom shaking your head at his ridiculousness. This was ALL. HIS. FAULT.

You came back to him with an ultimatum.

“It’s this or the doctor said I had to drag your ass to hospital.”

“Nooooooo.” The 25 year old seemed to convert into a whiny three year old again.

“Those are the two options. So will you PLEASE quit complaining and get in the bath.”

Keeping up the toddler persona, Tom huffed but reluctantly nodded in agreement - you had come up trumps. It didn’t stop him yelping when you helped to lower him in. His breath was shaky, as a response to the ‘cold’, but he was firming it. At least when you felt his forehead after a couple of minutes, it certainly seemed as though the fever was starting to ease off .

“You can go if you want.” His voice was murmured and as you looked up at him, he did his very best to avoid your gaze.

“Not a chance, if you drown on my watch, Nikki will never forgive me.” At the very least he seemed to appreciate your joke, scoffing a little with a small nod. “If you don’t want me here I get it. As soon as Harry’s back, I’ll swap with him.”

“No! It’s not that its… I’m just an ass when I’m ill.”

“A self aware ass, though.” Again he chuckled a little, as you folded your arms on the edge of the porcelain tub, resting your head lying to one side. “You had me pretty scared there for a moment, you know?”

He nodded a little, creating a wave of ripples in the water which you watched to avoid his gaze - which you knew was tracing all your features inquisitively.

“Hey it’s in the job description, always a bit dramatic... I’m sorry though I should never of called you- don’t know why I didn’t just get Harry.” In response you tutted, taking a moment to lean up and push his sweaty curls back a bit.

Just because you could, it was allowed in this moment.

“’m glad you did.”

“Yeh me too” He sighed, eyes fluttering shut in the easy silence of the bathroom. You kept a vigilant eye on him for the next 20 minutes, checking the temperature of his forehead using the back of your hand, whilst he seemed to finally get a bit of proper restbite, appearing like the worst had passed. You had no idea what was taking Harry so long; in fact it was the doctor that arrived first- who you ran to let in (not wanting to leave Tom asleep in the bath one bit).

Whilst the doctor did all his checks, taking his temperature properly this time, satisfied that it was much more manageable. He still wanted to set him up with some oral rehydration rescue packs to get his hydration status a bit better and give some anti-sickness tablets and antipyretics.

Having actually been getting some rest before all the prodding and poking, Tom was back to being a grumbling dick - now not wanting to leave the bath (the irony was real - making you roll your eyes). Once again, he appeared embarrassed to have you see him like this, so you left the doctor to help him get out and changed- instead going down to reception to get a fresh set of sheets, as he’d done a pretty impressive job of sweating through the old ones.

Even if tired and grumpy, when Tom exited the bathroom, he looked much better - he was walking himself without the doctor’s help. Which honestly was such a relief because when he had passed out on you, you genuinely were terrified. Thankfully the doctor stayed for the next 20 or so minutes, which was just when Harry returned with a bag of medications - which were now wholly redundant, given the doctor had already supplied everything.

“What happened?” Harry asked you in a hushed voice, whilst Tom was distracted with getting his medications. Recounting the story of Tom pretty much passing out, Harry grimaced for you, then launching over to give you a tight hug.

“Are you okay?” That was a novel idea, you hadn’t really thought about yourself at all - but honestly, you were a bit shaken, having been running on adrenalin for most of the night.

“I-uhm… yeh I think so… just-just was a bit scared, I guess? Felt bad too because he didn’t want me there but-“

“I can promise you Y/n, he did want you there. Just probably embarrassed he wasn’t all manly and that…” With a nod, you smiled softly at the frizzy-haired boy.

Whilst working with Tom, it also meant getting pretty close to his younger brother. The two Hollands were almost attached at the hip, which you were very much okay with.

It was weird though... your relationships were completely different. Harry was just your brother, through and through. He wound you up like a sibling but also knew you as if he had your whole life. With Tom… it wasn’t that. Arguably, you were closer to Tom, but on a different level. It was more exciting, more nerve-wracking and heartwarming all at the same time. Honestly, you couldn’t get your head around it properly.

“Hey, you’re probably shattered. Why don’t you go back to your room and get some sleep? I got it in here.” You knew Hary was trying to offer something nice, and now all the excitement had worn off, you were unbelievably shattered. But you didn’t like the idea of not being there, as a just in case.

“Uhm, I think I might just stay, you know?” And he did, with a deliberate, knowing smile, he nodded.

He knew you were worried. He knew Tom had really really scared you. He also knew how much you cared about his brother.

Just like how Harry knew Tom wanted you there, even if he felt embarrassed. Well, anyone would- when you are passing out half-naked in front of the one person that really matters.

It was just at this point that the doctor was done, giving Harry instructions about the rest of the day, when you made a beeline for the bed. Tom was propped up against the headboard, still with a pale sullen look and tired eyes, but a bit less clammy and more human. He cracked a smile as you crawled up onto the other side of the bed, kneeling next to him.

“How’re you doin’?”

“All drugged up, just feel fucking exhausted.” Instinctively you reached up to feel his forehead, really appreciating the fact it felt almost normal.

“Join the club mate, I had a 5am wake up call too.” You almost whispered, intending to make Tom laugh, but instead only getting a pout.

“I am sorry, a-are you going to go back to your room?”

“Nah” Tom’s eyes didn’t light up, except the fact that they very much did. “Can’t trust you not to get into trouble while I’m gone Holland.”

“Thanks.” He laughed weakly before shimmying down on the bed, so he was much more comfortable. “And thankyou, I-I’m sorry I’m a dickhead and made your life-“

“Shut up Tom!” Laughing, you lightly slapped his arm, also leaning down on the bed, so you were lying facing him. “You’re all feverish; go to sleep before you say something stupid.”

There was a long pause, Tom just gazing deep into your eyes, because he was pretty sure what he was thinking was nothing to do with the dodgy unidentified meat he’d had the evening before.

“What... like asking you out?”

…..

“Maybe that wouldn’t be so stupid.”

~~~~im really not sure how I feel about this one, let me know what you thought ;) ~~~~

tagging: @lovehollandy12 @hallecarey1 @crossyourpeter@hollandfanficlove

#tomholland #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland x y/n #hurt comfort #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #harry holland

[draganasimpsforjeff]

Jeff The Killer with Camgirl S/O

How fucking dare you?

Just sitting there with slutty clothes presenting your lovely flesh and figure for other men to see for men who don't own you. Who don't love you, fuck you, or hold you. Something that was his job as he was crowned your boyfriend.

He watches you from across the room as he sat on an old office chair, growing more and more pissed off as you giggle innocently at the webcam sporting on your laptop. The same innocent giggle that you did when you would purposely get him jealous just so he would dick you down later.

He was more than aware of your games and this was just one of them.

His fist clenches nails digging into his clothed knees, threatening to rip the fabric of his jeans. The way your leg slides up and the fishnets showing more than enough of your skin. As far as he knew, that skin only for his eyes to see and of course these disgusting assholes paid to see those parts of you.

The only thing that kept him from not stomping over there and ripping the cords to shreds, shutting the scene down and deactivating your account was because 1. None of them actually get to touch you. They're just seeing from a screen 2. It did bring in money but it was the point of it.

His ears perk up at the familiar ding of when someone pays you a tip, making your smile turn into a toothy grin before licking your lips and spreading your legs a little more, sliding your hand teasingly downwards. "You're willing to pay that much for me to just play with myself? How generous." he snickers, rolling his eyes as that was your fake appreciative voice.

The same way people worked in customer service have but you obviously made more and were happier, it was present in your voice. And it irked him to no end.

Of course, you happened to just pick a perfect shade of lighting for tonight's show. One that happened to be his favorite especially compared to your body.

Cherry red lights with some neon lights in the back, creating the picture perfect shadows for your curves, accentuating the best of you possible, which was every part to him. But red was such a lustful color as well and oh honey, how greatly you were wearing it tonight.

His leg began to bounce up and down in aggravation, slowing feeling the need to chew his nail till they were all bloody.

Ha. How great would it look for you to suck on his fingers, lapping up all of the blood with big doey eyes silently asking for more to taste.

You were such a beautiful creature to break and mold to his perfection.

"Alright then!" you giggle, using your hands to pull down your lacy underwear, swinging it around your finger before making the point to throw it far enough to where it lands on his face.

You watch for a moment admiring the sight of his shoulders tensing as he was sniffing the underwear where your pretty cunt was hiding behind moments ago.

Oh, how sweet you smelled.

But then you pay attention back to the crowd, sliding just one digit down to your puffy folds, beginning to fake moan which almost makes Jeff laugh from behind the scenes.

You were such a liar. You didn't know yourself more than he did. He knew the twists and turns, inside and out and everything else just by how much his dick had paid your cunt a visit. You were his personal cocksleeve anyways.

A few more dings come through, wanting you to use more than your fingers to please yourself. You really wanted to use Jeff's knife handle but you had a feeling the men on this platform were too boring and vanilla for that.

Holding in a sigh, you turn around and get on your knees letting the camera get a nice view of your ass and pussy as you lean towards the lower shelf on the nightstand where you and Jeff kept your plastic box of toys. You smirk as you hear a low growl but roll your eyes his way, sending him a wink but not making it noticeable enough to raise questions.

You hum, turning back around the shirt you wore right now gave visual access to your cleavage.

The urge to claim you in front of others was getting stronger, almost a painful knot in his stomach as he watches you with eager eyes rummaging through the toy box, asking which one they would like to see you use to abuse your cunt with.

Though he didn't want to blow your cover of being 'single' as that was what you claimed because people would want to offer more money to someone who couldn't get help from someone else especially these filthy bastards who think if it wasn't for them, you would be homeless and no way to buy things to customize certain requests and make more money.

His heart started beating faster his breathing harder before he marched over there and the second your eyes connected you knew this was game over.

"Oh shit." you mumble, before being pushed onto your back already knowing to listen to whatever he wanted as he was your real savior.

He turns to the camera with an angry look on his face, several usernames exiting out of the room but plenty remained but the chat stopped with the emojis and suggestions. He continues to stare down at the screen before snapping his head over to you.

"You want to show them who you really belong to?" Oh how quick your submissive side caved for him and you nod, whimpering a little as he was taking a bit too long for your liking.

"That's a good girl." he smirks, taking out his knife from his hoodie the bit of light making the blade glint, moving a little to the side so the audience had just enough of a view to see what he was going to do.

He reverses the knife so it was the handle that teases your sopping sweetness that was begging for him already muscles pulsating and working themselves in preparation for him.

You whine, exposing yourself more for him as he shoves more of the handle into you the blade cutting his hand as he gripped it. His eyes narrow at you as he uses one of his hands to go to your lips. "Lick, slut. Show them how freaky MY girl is."

Well you were definitely going to be known for something on this platform.

Taking a moment to shared lock eyes it was enough to part your lips open for him to slip his long manly fingers into your mouth blood mixing with your saliva.

Such a delicious combination.

The two of you mixing so well.

Your moan grow louder in the room and with it not being soundproof, they only echoed.

Small spaced out dings could be heard as you both collected money from horny cocks. You were absolutely losing yourself to him once again as he continues with the handle before pulling it out.

"How cute...you've already creamed on it...this all for me doll?" he asks with a teasing tone as the handle shows hot white liquid over it. You nod frantically, whining while tears begin to build and threaten to fall from being teased and nothing more.

He was usually talkative during sex like his own words turn him on as well along with how your body responds to them.

He licks his lips slowly before sliding his tongue over the black cover of the knife, licking up your sweetness and swallowing it. He was quiet compared to you, he would not dare to make a single noise especially on camera. No. If anyone was going to be loud it was going to be you.

"You want my cock, sweetheart?" He asks, grabbing you and moving your body so once he fucks you he wouldn't be blocking the view. He gave the camera a side view and your face was now visible.

"Yes, daddy." you said respectively in a desperate tone, squeezing your thighs against him to trap him in your grip, but he just snickers grabbing some pink rope and quickly tightens your wrists together before stretching your arms over your head. "Beg." he says, taking his clothes off to reveal his overly sexy body.

Abs for days with prominent muscles and bones showing with his back and collarbones and oh fuck, his shoulder. He had a deep cut v line with a pretty thick dick that was around 7 inches.

What was enough to make you so full and slutty.

You hated when he did this because you could feel yourself growing shy but it was worse this time as there were eyes watching you. You look at him, silently sending him a message to just fuck you without saying anything. But he just smirks, leaning down to kiss your knee and to your thigh while making sure his dick teases your entrance.

You were in so much pain and all you could do was use your legs to touch him and nothing else. "P-p-please daddy.." you begin, making him tilt his head. "Please what? finish your sentence."

You swallow thickly, pressing your body against his trying to gain more of a chance for him to slip inside of you, but he pushes away. "Finish your sentence."

"Please daddy fuck me dumb like the stupid slut I am." you whine your cunt growing more and more wet and needy.

"Was that so hard?" he asks before ramming himself into you making you cry out in pleasure and some pain as he didn't let you adjust before continuing to thrust.

"This. This is my fucking cunt. I don't even have to pay for some lousy show with some fake ass moaning-" He growls, obviously sending a message to the remaining people.

"I own her. She's my little slut. My girl, to love, to hold, to FUCK! And guess what? I get it for free." He laughs seeing tears streak down to your cheeks.

"How pathetic that you only touch yourself, imagining how it would feel to be inside of her, well that's not enough." He grunts, grabbing his knife to make small cuts on your hips before leaning down to lick them up. Making some more cuts and spreads it around your stomach with his hand.

"She's my little freak." He only continued to get you bloodier and that was enough to make everyone leave.

He immediately pulls out making you kick your legs in a tantrum as he goes over and cuts the wires, disconnecting from everything and takes his time deleting your account. "I hope you learned your lesson." He says, eyeing you as you struggled to get the rope off your wrists watching as puts his pants back on and leaves the room.

Leaving you a bloody, horny, wet whore surrounded by toys and the memories of him using them on you. His scent all around. Everything in the room was his.

Including you.

#creepypasta x reader #jeff the killer #jeff the killer x reader #creepypasta thirst #proxies x reader