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heart-of-the-morningstar · 3 months

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Alr hear me out, the service top lucifer with a very insecure reading. (Fem or GN) like he has to coax the reader to like open up (God damn I'm blushing thinking abt it-). Maybe even having to like talk them into even taking thier clothes off. Just a little idea stuck in my head.

Thank you very muchly.

Ooooooohh you’re giving me IDEAS (tbh I’d be the same boat)

~~~~

✨Opening Up✨

Lucifer x f!reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, nipple play, pet names, oral (m & f receiving), p in v, service top!Lucifer

It has become evident that I am unable to write anything concise 😅

I’M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I MEANT TO POST THIS DAYS AGO 😭😭

Tag list: @trashbin-nie

@yellowsubiesdance

@j-jinxee

@stevensdickrider

@airwolf92

@mrssabinecallas

@myhornybrainonlyknowsthis

@bee-sinner

@thesoccerenthusiast

@katshyperfixations

@logybearsblog

@bigfatbimbo

You sat upright on Lucifer’s king sized bed, the King of Hell straddling your lap. You don't know how you even ended up in this position, not on this bed necessarily, but how you ended up as Lucifer's beloved. You believed in your heart that you did not deserve him, but time and time again Lucifer has showered you with praise and adoration like no one ever had before. He was perfect. And you were...you. It didn't make sense.

Regardless, that didn't stop him from holding your face tenderly in his hands while he kissed you with a fiery passion. You were self conscious about being so vocal around him during intimacy, but he made it his mission to elicit as many moans and whines from you as possible. Slowly, he reached down to the hem of your sleep shirt, grabbing a fistful of fabric. Your eyes popped open, your mind racing. You pulled away from his lips and went to grab his wrist that held your clothing.

"I-I'm sorry, love," he apologized, releasing your shirt immediately. You sighed and let go of the grip you had on his hand. "I didn't mean to scare you, I should have asked. Please forgive me."

"No, no," you breathed, "it's alright. I'm not upset, I just panicked. I'm sorry."

Lucifer pressed his lips to your forehead and planted a small kiss. "Please don't ever think you need to apologize to me for how you feel, sweetheart."

"O-Ok," you stuttered.

"Do you want to stop?," Lucifer asked. You could hear the genuine concern in his voice. Hard as it was to believe, he cared about you more than anything.

You shook your head. "No."

"You're sure?," Lucifer questioned further, "because if you're uncomfortable, we can-"

You cut him of mid-sentence with a quick peck to his lips. He smiled bashfully, a cute blush spreading across his face. "Believe me, Luci, I want this. I mean I really want this, but..." you found it difficult to articulate what you wanted to say.

"Well, if that's the case darling, what if I go first then?," Lucifer proposed. You cocked your head, unsure of what he was talking about. He reached up and began to unbutton his shirt, starting from the top and working his way down. Oh...OH.

Your face instantly feels hotter and your breathing becomes staggered. You tried to say something, but the words caught in your throat. Your mouth had never felt drier. He finally reached the last button of his shirt and you finally see some of his chest. You could almost feel your brain short circuiting.

"Do you wanna do the honors, my dear?," he asked playfully. You gulped as your hands reached towards his shoulders. Gingerly, you slid his sleeves down each arm, slowly revealing more and more skin to you. Once his shirt was completely removed, you couldn’t help but stare. His chest was so smooth and toned, almost like it had been sculpted. “Like what you see?” Lucifer questioned coyly, noticing your unwavering expression of awe.

"W-Well that's hardly fair," you whispered, finally finding your voice, "you're an actual angel. Of course you're going to be gorgeous, I-" you slapped your hand over your mouth once you realized what you had said. "Please pretend you didn't hear that!," you begged through your hand.

Lucifer's face was flushed pink, he could help but smile. He chuckled as he went to remove your hand from your face. "Is that what you really think about me, sweetheart? I'm truly flattered to hear that coming from someone as exquisite as you."

"You...You really think..." you started to say but couldn't finish. Tears began to well up in your eyes, you tried to rub them away before Lucifer could see but it was too late. Lucifer cupped your face and ran his thumbs under your eyes to clear away the tears that had fallen. Your breath hitched, you tried to take in deep heavy breaths so you wouldn't start sobbing.

“Hey, hey, hey, shhhhh,” he spoke with a soothing tone. He removed himself from your lap and sat down next to you, embracing you in his arms. “It’s okay, angel, it’s ok. I upset you and I’m sorry, I never want to be the reason you cry.” He rested his head on top of yours while you clung to his chest. The scent of him hit your nostrils, it was like breathing in a warm spring day. Purely intoxicating. It calmed you down, you started to breathe normally again. You felt safe in his arms, you could have stayed there for the rest of your life.

You wrapped your arms around his torso, your tears finally drying. “Thank you, Lucifer,” you murmured. He gave you a tight squeeze before you lifted yourself back up, sitting at his hip and leaving your head on his shoulder. “You weren’t the reason I was sad, you know? You never have been.”

Lucifer turned his head to you, “Really? Then why-?”

“Because I’m afraid,” you quickly responded. “I’m afraid that I’m not good enough for you. That I never will be. You’re the all mighty Lucifer, King of Hell. You have so much strength and power and respect. And I’m…I’m just me.” You sighed and pulled your legs up to your chest to rest your head on your knees. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“Darling?,” Lucifer spoke at last. He brought himself in front of you on all fours and placed his hand under your chin, forcing you to look at him in his scarlet eyes. “ “Just you” is perfect. You don’t need to be anything but yourself! I understand what you’re feeling, and it’s okay to express that. But please know that I love you just the way you are. You are my true strength.”

You chuckled softly, leaning into his hand that was now pressed against your cheek. You took his words to heart; he loved you. He loved you so much. You had to show him that you felt the same way. You drew in a few quick and deep breaths before reaching for the hem of your sleep shirt.

“Wait, wait, what are you-” Lucifer tried to say, but you were too fast. Your shirt disappeared from your body and was tossed across the room. Silence filled the space, the only thing you could hear was your heart threatening to burst through your chest.

It was at that moment you noticed you couldn’t see Lucifer’s face. His hands had flown up to block his view of you.

“Lucifer?” you called to him.

“Y-You didn’t have to do that, love,” he stuttered. “I never wanted you to feel that you had to-”

“Please look at me, Luci,” you pleaded. “I love you. And I trust you. Let me show you. Please.”

You saw Lucifer’s hands slowly fall away from his hands, his eyes still screwed shut. “Are you sure?” he asked softly.

You leaned in to plant a kiss on his soft lip. Lucifer’s eyes shot open in surprise, you pulled away before he had a chance to react. Blood rushed to your cheeks when you saw him staring at you. Your first instinct was to cover yourself and shy away, but you pushed those feelings deep down. You were going to be vulnerable, you needed to be brave. Not just for him, but for yourself. You gripped the bed sheets so hard that you felt your nails digging into your skin through the silk.

After what seemed like an eternity, Lucifer had snapped out of his trance. He started to crawl towards you on his hands and knees, only stopping when his lips were inches away from your own. You felt his hot breath on you, you were finding it more and more difficult to keep your composure.

“You…are breathtaking,” he cooed, crashing his lips into yours hungrily. His tongue begged for entrance to your mouth, and you happily allowed it. You felt yourself slowly drifting down onto your back as you and Lucifer desperately devoured each other. He pulled away from your lips, trying to catch his breath, but you noticed he wasn’t looking into your eyes. His attention had drifted a little further down. He swallowed hard.

“May I?,” Lucifer asked breathlessly. Your face felt extremely hot and you couldn’t find the power to speak, so instead you nodded your head vigorously. He gave you a cheeky grin before lowering his mouth down onto one of your nipples. The noise you made sounded more high pitched than you meant it, but God, did it feel amazing! His tongue worked one nipple as his hand played with the other. You loved the sensation of him sucking and licking at your sensitive skin, the tiny bites from his teeth driving you insane. He rolled your other nipple between his two fingers, the pinches he gave sent your brain into overdrive. You never knew how sensitive you were, but Lucifer was more than happy to service you.

All of a sudden you noticed a different sensation, you felt something press against your inner thigh, dangerously close to your clothed pussy. It took your brain a few seconds to realize what was happening.

“Uhh, Lucifer, a-are you…”, you mumbled. Lucifer looked up from your chest with a puzzled face. “I can feel umm, I-I can feel your uhh…”, you didn’t know why you couldn’t say it. Maybe you were too embarrassed, which seemed silly considering what position you found yourself in. You pointed down towards your pants where Lucifer was wedged.

“Oh…OH,” Lucifer exclaimed pushing himself from you and onto his knees. “Oh my gosh, I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize you could uhh, feel that…please forgive me!”

Seeing him so flustered somehow calmed some of the nerves you had before. It was cute, really. Demon overlord Lucifer getting embarrassed about unintentionally pushing his hard on against your thigh. You let out a small giggle.

"It's alright, Luci," you chuckled. "I'm flattered, really!"

Lucifer smiled, placing his hand behind him to rub the back of his neck. "I'm still sorry about that, love. I'm a little embarrassed."

“Well,” you breathed, “I guess it’s only fair that I embarrass myself too then, right?” Without warning, you grabbed the waistband of your pants and ripped them off along with your panties in one fell swoop. You laid naked in front of Lucifer, whose whole face had turned a shade of red you’ve never seen before.

“Ffffuck,” was all Lucifer could muster. You watched his Adam’s apple rise and fall, attempting to regain his thoughts. Looking at you, it was plain to see how soaked you were.

“Like what you see?,” you teased. Lucifer nodded his head eagerly, still at a loss for words. You lifted your hand and curled your finger, beckoning him to you. Obediently, Lucifer crawled on the bed towards you with no reservations. “You’re not the only one that’s worked up here. Now we’re even.”

“My love, please…” Lucifer whined, “please let me taste you.”

"Don't you...wanna get more comfortable first?," you asked him, knowing the problem in his pants had probably only gotten worse for him.

"Not until I've had my fill of you, sweetheart," he smiled before forcing his head between your legs. The moan you let out was guttural, almost feral, he lapped your folds like a starving man. He took long, drawn out licks up your slit before focusing on your clit. His lips kissed and sucked on your sensitive nub, sending waves of pleasure throughout you entire body. You couldn't pull away if you tried, he had wrapped his arms under your legs so you couldn't escape his assault on your cunt.

"Sh-shit, oh-oh my God Lucifer, FUCK," you moaned. You could feel a smile form on his face as this seemed to have made him pick up the pace. You screamed from his tongue darting in and out of you, feeling so close to snapping. Your thighs started to fold in on his head and you grabbed a fistful of his hair trying to regain some assemblance of control. “Fuckfuckfuck, mmmm…gonna c-cum, aaggghh, gonnacumgonnacum!” Lucifer’s tongue relentlessly circling your clit finally caused your body to spasm, your orgasm causing you to scream out in pleasure. Lucifer didn’t stop though, he let you ride out your orgasm and hungrily devoured your release. Once you finally came down from your high, Lucifer lifted his face from between your legs and flashed you a toothy grin, seemingly quite proud of his work.

“You alright, darling?,” he asked innocently, almost pretending like he wasn’t the cause of what you had just experienced.

“Y-yeah, I’m…I’m fine,” you breathed. “Just…Jesus, that was intense! Give me a little warning before you go all in on me like that again!”

Lucifer laughed. “I’m sorry, love, I couldn’t help myself.”

You rolled your eyes at him playfully. “Oh, I’m sure you couldn’t. Now, let’s get these off you, hmm?,” you said tugging at his pants.

Lucifer stood up from the bed quickly. He undid his belt and let his pants drop to the floor. From the outlines of his briefs, you were surprised that they could contain him at all. Before he could pull at the hem, you jumped off the bed to stop him.

“Allow me,” you offered, getting on your knees in front of him. You reached up and grabbed onto his briefs, snaking them down his legs. His cock sprang free of its cage and hung in front of your face, its tip already leaking. Without thinking, your wrapped your lips around the head of his cock. Lucifer let out a moan that you’ve never heard before, filled with absolute lust and need. You took one of your hands and grabbed the base of his shaft, slowly stroking up and down while your mouth continued to work on his head. You ran small licks against the slit, tasting and lapping all of the precum that was forming. You loved the taste of him.

“Love…f-fuck,” Lucifer panted, trying to fight through his moans, “if you don’t s-stop now, I-I’m gonna cum. I wanna…wanna feel you. P-Please…”

Reluctantly, you pulled your mouth away from his cock with a *pop*, pouting slightly. Lucifer leaned down to grab your torso and tossed you onto the bed like you were made of paper mache. That angelic strength of his always caught you off guard. Lucifer crept between your legs, planting a tender kiss on your lips.

“I promise,” he whispered against your lips, “next time you can finish what you started, but right now I need you. Need to feel you.” Lucifer brought his fingers to your needy cunt, feeling the slickness of your folds. Your breath caught in your throat at the sensation. He took his other hand and lined up the tip of his cock to your entrance. “Are you ready, my angel?,” he asked softly.

You grinned and nodded your head. With that, Lucifer closed the space between you once more with a fiery kiss as his cock entered you inch by inch. Your cries mixed with his as he finally entered you completely.

“You feel…amazing, darling, fuck…” Lucifer choked out. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you murmured, “I-I’m okay. You can move.”

“Anything for you,” he smiled. Lucifer slowly began to rock his hips into you, his cock filling you up completely with each thrust. You could feel every inch of him ruining your pussy, hitting just the right spot every time. It didn’t take long for his pace to become erratic and uneven. He buried his cock deep inside you, both of your moans filling the room.

“Lu-Lucifer, o-oh shit, Lucifer, I-I’m so close,” you pleaded. “Please don’t stop, p-please don’t.”

“Cum for me, darling. Wanna feel you cum.” Lucifer groaned. He bit down on your should as he continued to pound into you, biting and sucking your tender skin. You were shaking, he was going too fast, you were coming undone.

“Cuminme…FUCKCUMINME,” you screamed and wrapped your legs around him as your orgasm flooded over you. You felt your walls pulsating around his cock, it was too much for Lucifer to handle. You heard him cry out and felt him twitch inside you, filling you up with his hot cum.

Coming down from your highs, you both laid there for a moment trying to catch your breath. You played with Lucifer’s hair as he laid across your chest, completely worn out. A minute or two passed before Lucifer sat up and pulled himself out of you. He laid down next to you, staring at your flushed face.

“Are you alright?,” he asked. “Did I hurt you at all?”

“No, you didn’t hurt me,” you smiled. “That felt…really good. Thank you, for everything.”

Lucifer hummed and leaned up to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “No, thank you, love.”

You chuckled returning the kiss. “Would…you mind if I held you, Luci?”

Lucifer’s eyes widened, but he smiled wide. “Of course not, I’d love nothing more.”

Lucifer rolled on his side, giving you the chance to push your body against his back and wrap your arms around him. You both didn’t move until the morning.

~~~~

Hope you enjoyed my second attempt at NSFW content lmaooooo

AND YEAH I MADE HIM THE LITTLE SPOON, IT’S WHAT HE WOULD WANT

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel smut #lucifer morningstar #lucifer smut #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #writing prompt #my writing #this was meant to be a cute short thing but i can never stop myself lmao #my signature is just posting goofy faces of Lucifer to remind everyone this is who we’re thirsting over

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headkiss · 2 months

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hellooo, hope everything's okay with you:) i was thinking of a hotch request, of bau!reader being "his favourite" in the team (in a way that the team can see he has a soft spot for her). maybe the members of the team seeing little interactions between them two and noticing it <33 i just *loved* the one you wrote about hotch helping her in a bau party, and would love to see more of hotch protecting her and being soft with her, during the jobs as well!! thank you so muchhhh, hope you have a good day x

hiii thank u so much baby!!! this has been in my drafts since september i’m so sorry for the delay!! i hope this is okay <3 | 0.6k of fluff

Aaron Hotchner was never one to play favorites. He’s always loved his team, has always felt fond towards its members in one way or another, but none ever seemed to outrank the other.

Until you.

You’d joined the BAU as a temporary replacement, and then, you just stayed. You fit right in, which wasn’t hard to do considering how welcoming everyone had been, but it still felt like the kind of luck that isn’t easy to come by.

Hotch has felt a sort of pull towards you ever since you stepped into the bureau, your shirt a little wrinkled, smile nervous and beautiful. He’s grown to feel for you in a way that doesn’t compare to how he feels towards the others. It’s completely different; incomparable.

Even now, over a year since you’ve joined the team, Hotch can’t help but feel like he has to protect you, has to make sure you��re okay.

The others know it, too.

Derek has taken to doing his very own Hotch impression, a lovestruck version of him, that is. Spencer tells Aaron daily that he should just tell you how he feels. Emily likes to say, ‘you’re going soft, Hotchner.’ And all he can do is fight a smile and shake his head.

Even now, in some town in Indiana, Aaron can’t help but look for you in the busy station. It’s early in the morning, he’s got two cups of coffee in hand. One for him, the other for you.

“Aw, thanks, you shouldn’t have,” Derek says, reaching for one of the coffees.

“You know that’s not for you, Morgan.”

Pretending to be hurt, Derek walks off towards Spencer, a ‘can you believe him?’ look on his face. Hotch vaguely registers Spencer’s voice saying something like, “I believe that’s what they call favoritism.”

Then, the conversation goes quiet for Aaron’s ears, because he sees you. You’ve got a sweater on today, the sleeves long enough that only your fingertips poke out. His feet are walking towards you before his brain processes it.

Before he reaches you, an officer from the station does. “Hey, miss, reporters aren’t allowed inside.”

You take a step back, eyebrows furrowing at the man questioning your presence, “I’m not a reporter. They cleared me at the door.”

“Nice try, sweetheart, I’ve heard it all before-“

“Agent,” Hotch steps in, trying not to squeeze the coffee cups too hard. “Good morning, coffee for you.”

Your gaze softens as soon as it flicks from the officer and over to Hotch. Your fingers brush when you grab the drink from him, sparks shooting up your arm.

“Thank you, Agent Hotchner.”

“Is there a problem here, officer?” Aaron asks, tilting his head.

“No, no, sir. Thank you for coming down and helping out.”

“It’s what we do,” Hotch emphasizes the ‘we,’ like he’s making sure the officer knows that you’re as much a part of this as he is.

The officer nods and walks off, leaving the two of you as alone as you can be in the station.

“Thank you, Aaron,” you say, nudging your elbow against his arm gently. “I totally could’ve handled it, though.”

He smiles because you’re the only one on the team who calls him Aaron. He likes it that way.

“I know, honey.” And he’s the only one who calls you honey. “But I didn’t really feel like explaining why one of my agents punched an officer today.”

“I was not going to punch him!” You laugh, your morning getting better by the second. “Maybe berate him a little. That’s all.”

“Sure it is.”

When you and Aaron walk into the conference room where the rest of the team is waiting, you’re met with the same type of stare from all of them. Knowing, expecting, secretly admiring.

You duck your head and take a sip of your coffee, forever grateful that you joined this team, that you found these people, that Aaron is beside you where you always seem to want him to be.

“They’re hopeless,” Emily whispers to Spencer.

Aaron’s too busy looking at your face to hear.

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luveline · 3 months

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hiii can you possibly write a poly!marauders x reader who is way too much like sirius 😭 i’m so so so similar to him it’s literally scary and we have the same birthday too??? same everything it’s crazy i think it would be so funny to watch them navigate through Two siriuses 😭

thank you for your request <3 fem!reader

Remus has been in love with Sirius since they were fourteen years old, so falling for you was easy. It was practically already done.

You’re sitting by the window with a tape player in your lap and headphones over your ears. Pretty mouth turned down, eyes lined with a smudged kohl, you look lovely when you sulk. Remus can’t stand to leave you alone.

He gives you a moment's peace, of course, but with James and Sirius entangled in a dinner-making argument and nothing left to do, he’s almost forced to sit beside you in the window seat. There isn’t much room, bless, but you don’t argue, leaning back into his arm and continuing your staring out the window.

“You okay?” he asks. He knows the music isn’t too loud. You loathe being snuck up on.

“Am I okay?” you ask, turning your head gently to the side, meeting his eyes through the fence of your lashes. Mascara lengthens them, has their ends kissing your brow as you widen your eyes slowly, playfully.

“Sitting all by yourself.”

“I’m not,” you say, the corners of your lips curling into a pleased half-smirk. You’ve too much affection about you to be truly smug.

“But you were.” He moves the headphones off of your ears slowly.

It’s a good thing Remus is such a flirt. You’d be hard to keep up with otherwise. He does wonder how James survives it; you and Sirius will flirt brazenly, almost darkly, a seduction in the smallest of things. Picking lint off of his shirt, wiping coffee foam from his lip. And Remus is quieter, not as shy as some might think him but without the darling charm (well, unless he wants it).

You hold his gaze. “I knew you’d come and keep me company, Remus… that’s what you’re doing, right?”

He laughs in your face, which isn’t to stay he’s laughing at you. He just can’t not laugh. You’re nerve wracking and sweet and his to flirt with. Plus, you hear him laughing and the majority of your facade melts away as you laugh yourself, the tip of your nose bumping against his sleeve. “Jerk,” you say.

You and Sirius are different in some ways, of course. Sirius can’t stand having air blown in his ear and you love it, shivering with delight as you curl into his arm.

“Hello. What’s going on here?”

James is climbing onto the window seat before either of you can tell him not to. There’s absolutely no room for him nor his muscly arms, his shirt getting caught on your knee and rising, an unreadable mess of limbs and fabric. A tan hand uses Remus as a lift. James straddles your lap, bringing his face up to smile at you lovingly. “Hello, lovely.”

“James, this is rather selfish of you,” you say. “Me and Remus were having a cuddle.”

“He had you all last night.”

“That’s not true. Sirius shared me with him. I was like a cherry pit.”

James makes a horrified, undignified shriek like you’ve jabbed him in the gut. “What the fuck.”

“You know full well I didn’t, Jamie, on account of my being the big spoon to your little one.” Sirius arrives, and announces his disgust with a wrinkle of the nose. “I can’t believe I’ve just said that out loud. Domesticity is becoming too much.”

James is a tall, tall guy, and he’s not skinny either. Remus gives up his seat before he’s pushed from it, and at least finds a new embrace in Sirius’ space, a hand behind his back, ringed fingers ghosting against his spine.

“Aw, Remus, what are you doing? …Come back,” James whines.

You laugh again. “You’ve stolen all the room.”

“Can I be blamed?”

Sirius wraps his arm around Remus' waist. One moment he’s being hugged, the next kissed, silky soft kisses pressed to his jaw as Sirius murmurs, “You could’ve stood your ground.”

But then Sirius wouldn’t be kissing him.

“Forget him,” Sirius advises, his lips parting over a soft spot near threateningly. “Who needs him? You have me.”

“It wasn’t like that!” James insists. “I just missed her when I was in the kitchen.”

“And I missed you, Jamie,” you murmur.

Sirius scoffs, to Remus’ delight. “What’s funny?” Sirius asks, pulling Remus’ head back by the hair, not rough or anything but intimate enough of a move that Remus probably has hearts for eyes as he answers.

“She sounds exactly like you, you realise?”

Sirius narrows his grey eyes. “Well, it’s not a bad way to sound.”

Remus has had enough of him, really, the flirting is fun but he misses his boyfriend, especially if James is going to steal the cuddle with you Remus had been aiming for. “I want some herbal tea,” he says, sewing his arms over Sirius’ shoulders, as much love in his touch and gaze as he can possibly fit. “Do you want some? I’ll make it for us.”

In the same moment, James is holding your cheek and asking what you’d like for dinner, whatever you want, honey, so close you can smell his aftershave lingering from the morning and the minty cherry hybrid smell of his favourite chewing gum. His weight rests on your hip. Remus can see you heating up from over Sirius’ sharp shoulder.

You and Sirius are also very alike in that you both fluster at being treated with care. Immediate melting. Cheeks hot to the touch.

“I don’t mind, Jamie,” you mumble.

“I’d love some,” Sirius says, ever so slightly hoarse.

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sunkissedrafe · 1 month

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hii i was thinking bf!rafe x bunny!reader where she is ovulating and is all whiny and needy and rafe just funds it funny and cute

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

“what’s gotten into you, hm?” rafe whispers lowly as you palm at his zipper under the table.

you don’t even care that you’re surrounded by his friends and family at a dinner celebration. you really didn’t even pay attention to the details of why you’re there, nor did you care. you just knew you had the opportunity to see rafe dressed up and delectably put together and your hormones started raging unapologetically.

“dunno… jus’ need you bad.” you mewl into his ear, not missing the goosebumps that erupt across his skin from your warm breath.

“you can’t be doin’ this, bun. not around all these people.” he nudges your head away from his neck with a quiet chuckle, adjusting in his seat and sliding his hand to rest on your knee lovingly.

his broad shoulders stretching his shirt across his back and his strong biceps filling out his sleeves makes your skin rush with heat. it quickly moves down your body to the soft cotton of your panties, making you squirm as they grow wet and sticky.

but of course, you knew you’d be feeling this way. you track your cycle down to the day. ovulation week was always intense with the need to climb rafe like a tree even higher than it always was.

you look over and stare in awe at his jaw clenching repeatedly, focused in on the various conversations at the table. he always has such a charming demeanor and an effortless aura of charisma that nobody can miss.

you snake your dainty hand down to rest stop his own, pulling it a little higher up your thigh and spreading your legs ever so slightly. he doesn’t say a word or even look at you, but his fingers dig into the plush skin and heed a warning that you know well. still, you can’t stop yourself.

the rest of the night is spent giving lingering touches to rafe, desperately groping and grabbing anything you can without anyone noticing. you’d hate to embarrass him, but you can’t help it. you need him.

you arrive home and as soon as rafe closes the door behind you he grips your waist, spinning you around to place his forehead against yours.

“what was that all about, huh?” he laughs and slides his free hand up and down your arm. “you damn near gave everyone a free show.”

“rafey i-” you start, letting a small whine slip past your lips. “you know how i get when it’s ovulation week.. my body wants your babies so bad.” you look down at your feet with rosy cheeks and tears welling in your eyes, suddenly embarrassed by your own behavior.

“yeah? is that right bunny?” he slips a finger underneath your chin and presses up, beckoning your gaze back to his. “need my babies?”

you nod quickly and your eyes widen, standing on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around his neck. “yes! yes, please!”

he laughs softly and places a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose before locking his lips against your own, exhaling deeply as he pulls away. “you’re somethin’ else.”

“is that…” your cheeks heat up in a blaze.

“yes, it’s a good thing. go get on the bed.”

you turn around and trot towards the stairs, giggling when he gives you a quick pat on the ass as he trails close behind.

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

taglist: @stepbrorafe @bunnycvnts @hewwokitti3 @pinkribboncoco @rafesgiirl @beautifuldisaster88 @mousie101 @laniirackssss @ditzyzombiesblog

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caesium-55 · 2 months

Text

—seven days. [ iii ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: hi hello welcome to part three. i flunked the quiz. lemme know what you think. NOT BETA READ. NOT EDITED. this chapter kinda sux. can't believe i went through a breakup just last week and i still cant write decent post-breakup scenes.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab hope i didn't forget anyone.

masterlist.

you: *sent a link*

him: ?

him: what's this

you: benefits of crying

you: read it it's enlightening

him: some people do not cry over a breakup you know and that is totally okay

you: why crying helps.

you: 1. tears release toxins, stress hormones to be specific. it is good to let all the bad energy out.

you: 2. it aids sleep. no need for further explanation.

you: 3. crying releases oxytocin and endorphins. i know you don't know what an oxytocin or an endorphin is but they're happy chemicals.

you: 4. crying helps you receive the support you need from the people around you. EMOTIONAL VULNERABILITY is okay, max. stop treating it like an STD.

him: it feels like an std

you: pussy

you: emotional vulnerability is a thing and it's normal so stop trying to be a big strong man when you're barely holding it together.

you: you may look fine now but i know you

him: please stop

you: no

you: 5. crying has a self soothing effect. very nice actually. it activates the rest and digest system.

him: what even is that

you: the parasympathetic nervous system

him: ??

you: this is why you shouldn't have dropped out of high school

you: education is important yknow

you: youre already lacking in three forms of intelligence, academic, emotional n social intelligence

him: fuck you im smart

you: fuck you 2 and yeah you're smart but only in geography

you: you probably can't do your taxes

him: im dutch so the company's account department do it for me by default

him: the american system is just weird

you: cant argue w/ u there

you: also, 6. crying helps restore emotional balance

you: see? you need that

you: yknow now that i think abt it you should consider seeking therapy

him: what makes you think i’m not in therapy right now

you: well have you considered getting MORE therapy?

You stand in front of the body mirror, holding the Red Bull polo shirt against your body to see how it looks on you for one last time. On your right sleeve, the word MANAGER is written in bold, white text. Because that was what you were. Just a manager.

In another universe this is not the shirt that you’d be wearing. The MANAGER would have been ENGINEER. In another another universe where your family has been well-off enough to continuously send you to karting school and you would have been the one driving the fucking car by now.

You know, if Max has even tried talking to Horner and suggested that you should be moved into the engineering team, then you wouldn't be stuck wearing this god-awful polo that burned your skin every time you wore it for work. Everybody reduced you as Max’s American manager and because you are American, most of them kind of just assumed that you're dumb, you know?

Does the world even know how smart you are? That you graduated top of your class, got the best thesis award, and that you had finished your masters just this year? Did they even know that a Japanese car company wanted you on their research team? That a NASCAR team wanted you on board as one of their engineers? Does Max even know?

Fuck no. He only knows that you're the best at ironing clothes and organizing his Google calendar and memorizing his entire coffee order by heart. He knew you're good at extinguishing kitchen fires and kicking ass in YSL Opyum heels. You doubt he knows that you can do Calculus in your sleep.

You can take it if the world puts you down for your appearance. But if the world puts you down because of your intellect? That's a different story. You'll take any insult to the face but not to your intelligence.

You have four days left in Monaco so you have begun packing already. You're right, everything did fit into three suitcases. Also, you haven't told Max yet. For some reason, you’re too anxious. Which is shocking to say the least because you never ever gets anxious when it came to Max Verstappen. You wouldn't have lasted this long working alongside Max if you were a pussy.

Max Max Max Super Max Max—

“[Name] here. Need anythin’, champ?”

Hearing a sob on the other end of the line immediately activates your fight or flight response. Your eyes widen and you toss the Red Bull shirt aside. Your legs leads you to the nearly empty shoe rack stationed beside the front door, grabbing the pair of shoes at the very top of the tiny shelf and throwing them on.

“I’m comin’ there. Hang on, Max. You wait for me, okay?”

He doesn't answer, just continuing to sob and the sound absolutely breaks your heart.

You run to his penthouse at a speed that will even put the RB19 to shame. Not even bothering to knock, you barge in and yell his name in the empty halls of his penthouse. You search in the kitchen. He's not there. The living room. Not there either. The room where his simulations are. Not there. You run to his bedroom upstairs.

The door is locked. Dammit. Panic overflooded your system.

“Max, sweetheart, you there?”

No answer, but you can hear a faint sound behind the door if you press your ear against the wood. Firefighter training covered how to open a fucking door when it was locked so this once again becomes a situation where you're grateful that you did that tiring and borderline suicidal volunteer work.

Max keeps a fire extinguisher inside his penthouse as per your advice. There is one stationed in almost every room inside his house. You knew there is one inside his room and another one just at the end of the hallway. You make a quick run for it and once you have the extinguisher in your hands, you run back to his door.

“Step away from the door!” you instructed while your mind mentally calculates your payment plan as you hit the door knob with so much force, the walls tremble at your strength. You're functioning on pure adrenaline. Your instincts only yell one thing and that is: go to Max. No one and nothing in this world will keep you from him. It isn't long until his bedroom door broke down. With one last final kick, it crumbles down from its hinges and you forcefully pry it open and sprint inside.

Max tucks himself in the tiny space in the corner of his huge bedroom, his knees shoved up to his chest. A 181-cm tall man trying to make himself as small as possible.

This is it. This is the bottled-up emotions he's been storing since Abu Dhabi. You cannot say you have not anticipated this. Max is bound to explode sooner or later.

Panic attacks have made a home in Max’s body since he was a child. That's what one gets when they’re parented by someone like Jos Verstappen. He killed Max’s soul and made the boy a machine and for what? To shape a child into a man, a racer that he wanted to be but failed to become at the cost of Max's mental health and childhood.

When Max looks up with that heartbreaking look on his face, you almost crumble. Almost, because you cannot crumble. Not when Max needs you.

Sometimes, you forget what it took for Max to become the champion that he is today. A childhood sacrificed for his dominance on the tracks. A whole lot of hatred from the people to become a WDC. And now, a love lost for his third consecutive championship.

“You came,” his voice cracks towards the end.

Your eyes soften, “You called, Max. Course I’ll come.”

You barely brace yourself for the impact that is Max’s body wrapping around yours in a tight hug. The man have literally launch himself from the floor to you at sixth gear speed. You stumble backwards slightly, holding his bed for support so the both of you won't fall down.

“Max—”

“No,” he whispers and his grip on your tightens as if he's afraid that you’ll slip away if he even tried to give your lungs space to breathe. “Don't speak. Stay.”

What Max wanted, what Max would get. So you shut your mouth, shuffle slightly so he'll be in a more comfortable position and allow him take whatever he wants from you. This will be the last chance he’ll ever do it anyway because in four days time, you’re flying to Texas.

You stay for what is probably hours in that position. Crumbled together on the floor, leaning against the side of Max’s king-sized bed. Your shirt is completely damp from his tears but you cannot even bring yourself to care about it.

“Your shoes…” It's the first time Max has spoken since the start of his meltdown.

“Hm?” you turn your head and your nose nuzzles against his hair, making you scrunch it up a little. His hair is tickling your nostrils. If you lean a little forward, your lips will meet the skin of his temple.

“They’re mismatched.”

Brows furrowed, your eyes move to your feet and see that Max is right. Your shoes are indeed mismatched. On your left is one of your Adidas slides and the other is your slip-on Skechers. You ran from one building to another in mismatched shoes. Fucking embarassing.

“Ignore them.”

Silence.

“You good now?”

“No.”

“Okay,” you say. “If you want to talk, I’ll listen.”

You hear Max let out a shaky breath, “Just stay for a while. Don't leave me alone.”

“Okay.”

Eventually, you manage to talk Max out of the hug. You're beginning to feel claustrophobic but you do not want to say it out right so you try to negotiate instead. That's how you and Max found yourselves inside his kitchen again. You're trying to replicate your Abuela's cheesecake, which she was known for back in Austin, and Max is…well, he's Max and he’s trying to be helpful in any way he can. If it's some other day, you'd have shoved him out of the way because you prefer working alone in the kitchen. Having eyes on you gives you anxiety. But given today’s circumstances, you do not have the heart to make Max leave so you task him with doing the little stuff like mixing things and throwing shit to the trash can nearby. And he does so splendidly.

“Thank you, by the way.”

“For what, baby?” You internally wince at your own slip of the tongue. Damn that habit of yours of calling people with affectionate call signs. Thankfully, Max seems to have not noticed it.

“For coming here.”

You shrug.

“I only did what you did for me in 2021.”

Again, your breakup with Leo was bad bad. You spent a month crying for a love lost and Max was there for you. For the most part, at least. You want him to focus on winning and winning alone that you pushed him away a lot of times but you appreciated how he was more obedient to your commands, that he held his tongue so he wouldn't piss you off even though he was not liking your words, and that he was considerate of you.

“I hope you won't go into fights though,” you chuckle. “Like I did after my breakup.”

He smiles, shaking his head lightly and you know he's recalling the memory. 2021 is a hilarious year for you, the Red Bull manager. You went viral after getting into a cat fight with a girl and a whole fist fight with her boyfriend.

You and Leo called it quits a week before Monaco and even though it had been four races since then, your heart was still in a quite fragile state at that specific race weekend. One minor inconvenience was enough to ignite a wild blaze of fire within you and nobody could extinguish the flames.

After Silverstone FP1, you were leading Max to the cool down room to brief him with Horner’s relayed instructions and someone had thrown a glass bottle towards the both of you while walking. Originally, Max was the main target of the bottle but you happened to have moved towards the line of trajectory and the bottle landed on your temple, hard enough that you stumbled upon impact.

You barely heard Max’s shocked gasp and shout of panic over the sound of glass shattering on your foot because the only thing you could register was the terrifying feeling of a thick liquid trickling down the side of your face and you didn't even need to see it to know it was blood.

The only thing you saw was red and it was on fucking sight.

Fucking Hamilton fan. Fucking Hamilton. He’s in Max’s way. He’s in your way. He’s the wall that was dividing you from your dream position in the engineering team.

You shoved the iPad you were holding to Max’s hands and marched down to the woman wearing the Merc #44 merch, swiftly jumping over the barricade and grabbing her by the collar of her pristine white Versace top.

The events that followed were too fast. You grabbed her collar. She pulled your hair. You also pulled her hair. Someone pulled her away from you. You tried to grab her, clawing her bare arms with your manicured nails. She screamed. You screamed back. You pulled out some curse words in Spanish as well because cursing her in one language alone is not enough. Her boyfriend appeared. A quick punch to your cheek. You fell to the ground.

The world stood still. There was a sting on your palm because your skin got torn from the hard surface of the concrete ground. You let a bloodcurdling war cry and your Dad would definitely be disappointed at you for using the boxing techniques he taught you for self defense purposes only to fight a guy two times your size.

Everything was a bigger blur from there. But you did remember the sensation of Max’s strong arms around you, stopping you from lunging forward again. He was saying sweet words to your ear to calm you down but your brain failed to intercept them so you could hear the words, could hear his voice, but not understand any of it. You remember Christian Horner's disappointed face that haunted you even two years later. You remembered feeling so terrified as you sat outside Christian Horner’s office waiting for the final verdict while he and Max and a few of the Red Bull higher-ups argued about your future with the team. You remembered hearing Max’s loud snarl on the other side of the mahogany door: “Did you see her face?! There was blood everywhere! On her nose, on her mouth, on the fucking side of her head!” You remembered the girl taking the case to court. You remembered fearing that you’d be sent to jail. You remembered that she lost the case because it was ruled as self defense and your injuries were grave. You remembered discovering that it was Max who used all his power and got the best lawyer to fight your case. You remembered the atmosphere in the Red Bull garage shifting when you entered it a few weeks later and everyone stared the bandages and bruises. Everyone thought one thing: of course, it would also take a monster to manage a monster like Max Verstappen. You remembered Lewis Hamilton, seven-time world champion, apologizing personally for the fight caused by his own fan. He didn't need to but he was so sincere with it that you cried when he handed you the apology flowers. God, how could you even hate this man? Your anger towards him was misplaced.

You’d been living with the guilt ever since, that you were horrifyingly violent for a day, that you were capable of killing for a day. And it could happen again. One day. God, you hoped you wouldn't have to see that day. You knew all your coworkers have been careful with angering you ever since. They're terrified of you even. Max should be, too. But then again, why would he when he already saw the horrors done by his father’s hands ever since he was a child? He was used to it.

“I won't,” he says, smiling at you. “I wouldn't want to add anymore problems for you to clean up.”

But you will not be the one cleaning it up because you resigned. You didn’t tell that to him though. Not right now. He just had a meltdown over Kelly leaving him and the news of his manager leaving him too will destroy him.

The cheesecake is a little burnt when you take it out of the oven but it actually adds more flavor to it so yeah, that's a win.

“We should drink,” you suggest.

“It’s mid-afternoon.”

“We drank at mid-afternoon yesterday,” you give him a blank stare. “With Alex and Charles, remember?”

He doesn't say anything as you make your way to his fridge and pull out two bottles of beer. Max has champagne stored somewhere but you have enough of those expensive champagnes. You need beer. Beer is good. Beer is nice. You're a beer type of person and it is time Max becomes one, too.

“I’m no scientist,” you begin, biting off the beer’s bottle cap. “But according to chemistry, alcohol is solution.”

Well, technically, edible alcohol or ethanol is not a mixture. Rather, it's a pure substance that happens to be a liquid at room temperature and typical atmospheric pressure. Pure ethanol is not a solution. Hard spirits though? That's a solution.

Beer is not a hard spirit. It's more of a fermented drink. But Max doesn't know that, though, so you don't bother explaining the science behind it.

Somewhere down the road, the two of you move to his living room. You use the Youtube app in his TV to search karaoke video and have the bestest time of your lives. You're screaming along some Daddy Yankee and El Alfa songs and Max doesn't know how to speak Spanish so he’s just vibing to it.

At 5 PM, you pull out Max’s expensive vodka bottle. Now this is the real shit. The ten bottles of beer? Those are just pregame. Max is already drunk with just those because he’s a pussy but you’re no pussy, so the only right answer is vodka! Viva la vodka or whatever.

Your throat gets tired of singing and Max gets tired from dancing, too, so you both decide to just go entertain yourselves in other ways. First, you introduced Max to beer-pong. He loses, of course. He sucks at everything not racing. Then, the two of you move onto chess. Max gives up mid-game. He cannot understand the rules. Then, lastly, you move to the billiard table Max owned. He only used it when the other guys are over and you do not even know why he bought it when he sucked at playing billiards.

“You know what Kelly said the morning before the race?” Max suddenly says and you look up at him, brow raising slightly. He’s drunk; his skin is flushed and he is all giggly and smile-y as he sits on the billiard table’s side rail and using the billiard stick as some sort of support stand to keep him from falling. You hope he won't accidentally poke himself. You're no better, too. Ten beer bottles and a few glasses of vodka. But you’re not as drunk as Max, and you still have a straight vision and you can still sink the colored balls into the pockets of the billiard table.

“Hm?”

“That it was unfair for her.”

You raise a questioning brow, “Why?”

“I bought shoes and they don't fit her.”

You blink. He laughs at himself as if he has uttered the funniest joke in the world.

“Three years of relationship gone because of a single pair of shoes,” he continues. “She wanted those shoes, too.”

Kelly….what the fuck?

“But that's okay. She….She made me open my eyes, you know? She made me realize what I truly love.”

“Racing.” It's not even a question. It's the truth.

Max stares at you, long and hard, and you look away first because you fear that if you allow yourself to stare too long, you’ll drown in those beautiful blues. This is enough heartache for the day. No need to add more.

“Hey [Name],” he begins. “If I asked you to kiss me, would you do it?”

#manager!reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #f1 x reader #f1 imagines #formula one #fanfic #angst #mv1 #mv33 x reader #mv33

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apparentlytheproblem · 8 months

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if was your boyfriend, never let you go keep you on my arm girl, you'd never be alone

druig recomendations

perfectly busy - @tokkiotears

lemme just say, HUSBAND DRUID OML. and I'm just a sucker for a confident and king Druid behavior. absolutley adoring this to no ends, smn send help, I forgot how to function. the not really complete without you got me. oh god. just o h g o d. i just feel like i should comment on the narrative, it was so well done and just hit the spot i didn't even know I had.

warnings-

not proofread, annoying men, druig in a button-up with the sleeves rolled up

"this isn't over" - @peterparkersnose

bro this slapped in so many different levels, like excuse me. And druig who shares books and annotates? and smug druig? godamn. the sexual tension- smn keep him away from me before i fall in love.

warnings-

angst, privacy invasion, accidental nudity, sexual tension, falling in love with something you could never have-?

sunshine - @itsapeterthing

firstly, i fell in love with the writing, its so stunning. it has such a fun and flowery vibe surrounding it which makes me just gush oml. it was just so sweet. AND how he gets flustered- literally hit all my marks and exceeded them. i hope you never stop writing these, they make my soul lighter.

warnings: eternals insulting druig as always, fluff

how could they not know? - @saintlike78

to start of, i love a vocal man who can tell you that he missed you. the scene itself was so soft. just love sick druig running back to your arms and you're wearing his shirt mwahh. i find it hilarious how no else has even noticed this happening before, my oblivious fools. its so adorablee.

warnings-

nothing but fluff really, dialog heavy.

hold - @redheadspark

bro, my love, angel, the gif itself got me a blushing mess, you have no idea what the fic did to me sheesh. i love a man who was so acceptable about her fear and so re-assuring, that's so perfectly written. i also love how the author has written these thoughts in her head as well as the internal debate. it just left me in awe i swear.

warnings-

Just a hint of angst but mostly fluff

warmth - @stranger-nightmare

these are one of my favorite's that I've encountered. the end was just lovley. Just the plot of this drabble has me on my knees. it was wonderfully thought and wonderfully written. the author has left no crumbs.

warnings-

one case of swearing, a lil bit of fluff, a whole lotta angst, nakedness but it’s not in a sexual way

boyfriend headcannons - @luventi

just a bunch of head cannons which i thought were amazing. overall its just so cute and has me screaming, crying and throwing up. honestly very underated.

warnings-

druig x gn eternal!reader, au where everyone is alive and happy and together, there will be dashes of suggestive content admits all the fluff so be warned!

shy lover - @writing-wh0re

[ it didn't have a title so I gave it this, I hope the author doesn't mind]

felt that this was just a must included, i don't wanna really have to summarize this cause there wasn't a single line that did not fail to have me hypnotized. just lovley work

warnings-

Smut18+, Unprotected Vaginal Sex, Male Performing Oral, Praise Kink (both), Begging Kink (?), Slight Cocky Druig, Cum kink (?)

1K notes · View notes

dreamtofus · 3 months

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don’t let me freeze

Summary: Daryl fucks you in his jacket in the freezing cold.

Word count: 712

Author’s note: this is my favorite thing I’ve written so far LOL also female reader

masterlist

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . *₊ °

The breeze runs through your hair while the leaves crunch beneath the soles of your loosely laced Converse. It’s chilly but your sweater keeps you somewhat satisfied. The breeze doesn’t seem to bother the sturdy man alongside you, who is only wearing his leather jacket with a long sleeve under it.

You glance over at him, meeting his eyes. Dusk is starting to set and your feet ache after the long exploration, nowhere near home.

“I think we should settle down here,” You suggest to the archer, bringing some attention to the quickly setting sun.

“Yer.. Guess so.”

The two of you start collecting twigs and dry brush to start a fire. Once lined with a circle of rough rocks, Daryl gets started on making a fire.

Once it finally lights, the two of you huddle together next to it. You allow yourself to lean into him, enjoying his body warmth.

“Do you ever think about what it was like before… y’know? The way we adapted to this… lifestyle.” You genuinely ask, stirring up conversation.

His hands wrap around your waist and pull you in, “Naw, cus then I wouldn’t have found you… Besides, I was built for this.”

His response makes you giggle as your noses gently brush each other. You wrap your arms around his broad neck and gently press a kiss to his lips. He tastes like ash and candy cigarettes. His hands trail up under your sweater, raising soft goosebumps.

Your hips gently sway atop his knee as you bury your face into the crook of his neck. Your hands anchor in his hair, pulling gently at the roots.

You work on removing his jacket, laying it to the side. He starts to peel your sweater off, and your shirt is next to follow. The cold bite of the night gnaws at your bare skin. You shudder, pressing yourself closer to him in search of warmth.

After he undoes your jeans, you kick them off along with your shoes. His rough denim jeans rub against your bare thighs, which are laced with tiny bumps and bruises. Daryl picks up his leather jacket which was thrown to the side, and threads your arms through the thick sleeves.

The jacket is big and bulky, but it provides some shelter from the wind. You smile at him before meeting his mouth. Your nipples poke through your lightly lined lacy bra. He pulls away just to admire you in his jacket. His hands rest on your hips.

“Shoulda done this sooner huh? When it wasn’t cold?” He chuckles and brushes his fingers over your breasts.

“Ha. Ha. Ha.” You roll your eyes and scoff in response, pushing his hand off you.

He unfastens his belt and lowers his jeans slightly, revealing himself. He pulls your panties to the side and you line yourself up, taking the plunge.

He swiftly bottoms you out, making you both gasp in response. Your jaw clenches as you adapt to the feeling. His hands trail underneath your (well, his) jacket, making circles on your hip.

You slowly start to rock yourself back and forth, then work yourself up to a light bounce. His hand stops making circles, flattening itself against your back for support, while the other hand reaches between the two of you to graze your clit.

Light moans escape from his gritted teeth, “Goddamn girl…”

“Fuck Daryl! You’re so fucking good”

Delicate slapping and heated breaths fill the forest air as you feel that knot forming.

You huff into his ear, “Fuck I-I’m…”

He shushes you with an open kiss while you finally reach that high, blinded by an array of feelings.

He helps you pump your hips a few more times and finally releases inside you.

You playfully slap his arm and glare at him. After he buckles his belt, he slips your panties back into place.

“God you’re fucking awful,” You groan as you start to lay on your side.

He lays down next to you and pulls you closer into you, “That’s not what yer were saying five minutes ago.”

You giggle before nuzzling into his chest, ignoring your bunched-up sweater and jeans in the corner.

“Love ya girl,” He grumbles.

The comforting warmth puts you to sleep before you can reply.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . *₊ °

your girl is going crazy and insane

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tinykonig · 1 year

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𝔠'𝔪𝔬𝔫, 𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔪𝔢

könig has really pretty hands... you think he deserves to know {reader has a major hand kink- don't we all-, könig has a praise kink and is absolutely obsessed with reader. this is very obviously nsfw 18+ only please and thank you ~this will also be cross-posted to ao3} intentionally lower-case

he is just so intrinsically captivating- everything about him. you never stop noticing him.

the second he walked into base, your throat ran dry when you realized the sheer size of the man. he could swallow you whole. you wanted him to.

you don't wanna say you had ulterior motives when you befriended him- you truly like the guy. he's funny and extremely sweet, and hanging around könig had other benefits. no one dared to mess with you when he was around. the usual chatter of men hitting you up or questioning your position melted into peaceful quiet and the soft sound of könig's voice.

like right now.

"did you hear me?" his voice comes from the edge of your mattress where he has perched himself, undoing the laces on his boots.

you are sitting at the chair to your desk and watching his long, strong fingers work around the dark strings to loosen them from the complicated knots. his hood was flipped back over his helmet revealing his concerned expression

your head snaps up, "no, sorry, big guy. zoned out," you respond, and you hope to god it sounds casual.

"oh, okay." he says awkwardly, pausing his movements to look at your face- slightly rosy and pupils blown- but if he notices he doesn't say anything. "i said i got something for you while i was gone."

your face brightens and you grin at him, his expression quickly mimicking your newly excited one.

he reaches into a pocket on his vest and pulls out something small, then he encases it in his large fist and holds it out in your direction.

“i actually made it,” he clarifies, chuckling at you as you begin to make grabby hands towards him, like an excited child.

you have to hold back a gasp when both of his hands wrap around your much smaller ones. it felt like pure electricity surging from his palms straight to your core.

he drops the object in your open hand and draws away, suddenly looking shy again.

it’s a tiny wooden figurine of your favorite animal. incredibly detailed and tiny and you turn in over in your hands in awe. a lump takes root in the base of your throat. könig never fails to take you by surprise with his thoughtfulness.

“könig i love it,” you whisper, not quite trusting your voice not to break at a normal volume, “it’s so fucking cute.”

“you like it?” you can hear the smile in his voice as he fully takes off his helmet and hood and sets it on your nightstand. he must have worked on taking off his boots fully along with his tac vest because they are now sitting in a neat pile beside the foot of your bed, left now in only his long sleeve black shirt and combat pants. he is visibly more relaxed now as he leans against the headboard.

“of course i do. how did you even make it? its so detailed.”

you love the proud grin that adorns his face.

“i was on night watch. cut out a chunk of wood from the windowsill, and carved using one of my knives. it took like 8 hours.”

you find an empty space on your desk and set the figurine there, shaking your head in disbelief as you turn to look at könig again.

“i accidentally cut my finger when i was carving the eyes,” he said, holding out a hand to you and showing you a superficial nick on his ring finger.

you scoot your chair closer to the bed so you can take his hand into yours and examine the tiny cut. you pout up at him and coo, “awww~ poor baby,”

and then without thinking you raised the finger to your lips and press a soft kiss to the cut. könig’s eyes are open wide and his breathing picked up considerably.

“all better now, right?” you ask teasingly, gaining confidence based off his reaction.

you carded your fingers through his and wait for his response. he surrenders his other hand into your lap as well, almost like he was in a trance

“yes,” he answers breathily.

you hum in response, still toying with the hand you hold in your possession. his hands were warm, you trace some of the scars that litter on his knuckles.

“sorry,” you mumble out the apology, “your hands are just really pretty.” you feel a little embarrassed, but not enough to let go of his hands.

könig makes a noise like he was stifling a cough and shakes his head, “ don’t apologize.” it sounds like a plead, and he makes no moves to remove his hands from your possession.

you make eye contact and recognize the want that pools in his light eyes. you are sure he sees it mirrored in yours as well. it gives you the courage to continue on the precarious path you found yourself walking.

“very pretty hands,” you murmur, “and they are so big,” holding his hand up to yours to display the ridiculous difference in size. he groans ever so lightly, his eyes now hooded under your gaze.

you knew he would never make the first move. it had to be you, and it had to be now.

“i think about your hands a lot, könig.”

your confession hangs in the air like a raincloud before a storm. filled with the promise of something more.

“tell me,” he whimpers lightly, tightening his grip on your hands for the first time this entire time you were holding them.

this is gonna be fun, you thought, grinning while you maneuvered yourself to sit on top of his thighs. you see his adam’s apple bop as he gulps in surprise.

you are still toying with his hands when you glance up at his eyes, “i think about how they would feel when they touch me,” you whisper, knowing he could hear you. he is hanging on to every word.

“touch you…” he breathes in deep, “where?”

you bring his hands under your loose t-shirt and rest them on the bare skin of your waist, keeping your hands on top of his- like you were scared he would move if you didn’t.

“here, for starters,” you respond, and you laugh a little when he presses his fingers into your skin there harder.

“are you ticklish?” he asks, smiling softly.

“just a bit,” you say, moving your hands to bring your shirt up over your head and you throw it on the floor next to the bed, messily in contrast to his perfectly folded pile of gear.

he is trying not to stare, and he is failing miserably. his hands seem to move of their own accord as they trail up your body to your bra-covered breasts.

“mmm,” you hum contentedly, “yes, i think about them touching there too,” reaching up to gently rake your fingers through his slightly shaggy hair. “although im not usually wearing this when i imagine it.”

“can i take it off?” he asks, doe eyes looking to yours for explicit permission.

now you stroke his cheekbone, along a very faint and fading scar. you grant him a nod.

quicker than you expected, he was sliding the straps down your arms and the back was unhooked. you were suddenly feeling extremely exposed, given he was still fully dressed. you tug twice on the front of his own shirt and he pauses his movements on your body to reach for his own shirt.

his torso is so long and sculpted, littered with raised pink scars, a few deeper white ones too that had healed for longer. the freckles on his face continued down his chest and arms you note, extremely pleased with that fact. he was so, so pretty. you wonder if he knows.

while you admire him, he raises his hands back to your now bare breasts and softly cups them. his touch is so gentle, and you can see in his eyes an expression of pure awe and trust.

tentatively you arch into his touch, just to have him press into your skin more. he comes out of his trance and desperation starts to take over. he tweaks a nipple between his two fingers and you moan at the unexpectedness of the action.

“that feels good, könig,” you whimper out, and he does it again. it’s so lovely to see him gain confidence from your words and your reactions. you decide to test something else out, “thats my good boy.”

the reaction is immediate. one of his arms moves to hook around your middle and pull you fully flush to his hips. you gasp at the feeling of him hot and hard under your clothed center.

“can i put my mouth on you?” he asks, and his voice still sounds so innocent and unsure but theres a hint of need creeping in as well.

“you can do anything you want,” you answer, loosing all composure and control you previously had.

he keeps his one hand on your waist, the other playing with your nipple. he brings his mouth to the other one, and you throw your head back and groan at how warm and wet it feels. he gently rolls his tongue around the nipple, biting lightly every few seconds. you’ve never felt so close to cumming from nipple play before, but with könig? everything was heightened.

you grip his hair harder and pull his mouth off you, looking into his eyes and breathily saying, “i haven’t told you where i think about your hands being the most.”

he groans. it’s a sinfully wonderful little noise.

“please,” he chokes out, “please, please tell me,”

you conjure up all the confidence left in your body under his gaze, and stand up and unbutton your pants. his eyes are heavy on your body as you slide them down your legs, and it’s like he cant help himself when he reaches out and runs his hands up and down one of your thighs.

“so soft,” he says, in complete reverence.

you almost feel bad for him when you see how painfully hard he is in his pants. you wonder for a second if his hands were so big, how big could he be there, too…

before sitting back down in his lap, you reach for his own pants to let him know that you wanted those off as well. he obeys you so easily, so eagerly.

he almost looks like he’s been hypnotized when you take your seat back on his lap, less barriers separating you two now. you are sure he can feel how wet you are, its soaked through your thin panties.

he just whimpers, and waits. waiting for you to tell him, like he so kindly asked you to.

so you do.

you grab one of his hands again, and he watches intently as you bring two of his long, thick fingers into your mouth. his jaw goes slack as you slide your tongue over his digits, coating them with your saliva. he lightly thrusts up, like he can’t control himself but he’s trying.

you hum again and release his fingers from your mouth and guide them down to your heat hovering over his clothed dick.

when he slipped past the band of your panties, he broke free of his trance. feeling your wet, throbbing pussy broke something in him and he was on a mission to make you feel as good as he possibly can. he slid his fingers back and forth over your clit and drank in your moans as his kissed you for the first time.

you whisper praises against his mouth, telling him how good he was doing. “better than i could have ever imagined,” you manage to breath out as he strokes you towards your orgasm just by massaging your clit.

every word you said went straight to his core, and it was a need- an absolutely feral need- to feel you cum on his hand.

“inside me,” you moan out, “please, put them inside me.”

his chest and face are burning red with want, and you start to feel bad that you’re the only one being pleasured as he slips two fingers into your pussy. through a bubbling moan in your chest you manage to ask him, “can i touch you, too?”

he looks at you like you just gave him his own personal star from the sky, “god, please” he says, his accent growing even thicker in want.

you pull him out of his boxers and gasp. if you thought his hands were big- this was just unfair. his cock stands tall against his stomach, pale pink and leaking. he is the most beautiful man in your universe, and you tell him.

he moans at your words and bucks his hips into the air. having mercy on him you wrap your hand around him. he rewards you by stroking the spongy part inside you with his two fingers. you start to roll your hips into his hand, and that spurs him on even further.

“c’mon, use me,” he mutters into your ear, “use my hand to make yourself cum. please, i need it so bad.”

you were already embarrassingly close, and his desperate words brought your orgasm crashing over you. your hand strokes his harder and you vaguely register his free hand grabbing your throat to pull your forehead to rest against his as he cums all over your hand and his stomach. you ride out your release on his hand until you can’t take it anymore and stop your movements.

the only sound in the room is heavy breathing. you whine as he removes his hand from you, which makes him chuckle a little. you open your eyes to meet his and he looks so blissful.

you smile back at him tiredly, “later, i’ll have to tell you about how i think about your mouth,” and he laughs his regular, loud laugh that you love. he pulls you into his chest to lay down fully.

“yes, i think you should.” he agrees.

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #könig #könig x reader #konig #konig x reader #this is. bad im sorry i hyped it up

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fairy-hub · 10 months

Text

𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧’ 𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐳𝐲

𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 • You decide to take things further with Toji for the first time.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 • non-curse au, daddy/princess/doll/sweetheart, heavy praise/teasing/encouragement, teaching/orruption/ virgin kink, mutual masturbation, you just soften him up a little babes he can't help it look at yourself, that being said he wants to rough you up virgin or no, age gap, collage student!f!insecure!early 20s-reader, mid-30!dilf!toji, hints of pussy eating, pussy sleeve toy, flavor lube, squirting, toji talking is filthy as always, massaging and fondling his cock and balls, he kisses your pussy once, light manhandling

𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡 • 2k

𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐟𝐞𝐲: this has been in the drafts too long, I couldn't bring myself to delete it so I polished it up a tad bit and it is what it is

Breaking the kiss, you attempt to steal your nerves whilst catching your breath. "I...Iwantyourcock." You can't bring yourself to grab him. What if you did it wrong? And turned him off by hurting him, or by being unattractive?

Several insecurities steaming from your inexperience and presumed inability to measure up to those of Toji's past. "You look unsure. What's wrong sweet cheeks?" He could read you too well after five months of dating.

Toji squeezes your hip, cupping your cheek. You lean into his warm, rough palm. "Nothing's wrong just nervous." He peers deep into your eyes, searching for the truth.

"We can stop anytime you like but we can't take back what's been done." His sweet, passionate kiss is too short for your liking. "Whatever it is lemme take care of it for ya."

The hope of reassurance from the man you adore and trust makes it so much easier to crumble. "I'm gonna do something wrong." All the insecurities you've been holding at bay overlapping. Tears sting and blur your eyes.

"I'm not pretty, surprised you're still with me, and I won't be as good as-" Toji's cuts you off with a brief rough kiss. You tug on Toji dark hair, sliding your hand down his hard pecs. You fiddle with a button on Toji's black button-up shirt.

Toji wraps an arm around you, carrying you toward his bedroom. You cling to Toji, pressing your squishy body to his muscular one. Enjoying the contrast, and how secure it makes you feel to be carried by Toji.

"That's my beautiful girlfriend you're talking about." Toji drops you onto his bed, stepping back. "Don't care who you are, there are repercussions for anyone disrespecting my girl." Your gaze dips lower with each button Toji undoes. Showing his beautiful sculpted abs you found are sensitive to being kissed and bitten.

You sit up. "What are you gonna do?" Bitting into your bottom lip when Toji grabs his zipper. A cocky smirk etching into his face when he opts for fondling himself through his jeans.

"Nothing but you're gonna be a good girl for me. 'n you're gonna tell me what turns ya on while touchin' yourself." You stand up, turning around and bending over when you slide your panties down your legs. Kicking them back towards Toji.

You stand, your flowy skirt hiding your soaking wet cunt. "Wanna be your baby mama daddy." Reaching back, unzipping your dress with trembling hands. Expecting Toji to scoff at you.

Your cunt gets wetter from Toji's deep groan. "If keep calling me daddy, ya might be." You hear the clink of Toji's belt coming undone. "Turn around n’ look at your Daddy." You take in a shaky breath, your tongue too heavy in your mouth to speak.

He has your underwear in his hand, licking your slick off. Groaning at the taste, "Your beautiful virgin pussy tastes so good." He gives you an idea.

You slip your straps off your shoulders. Sliding your dress down as he does his pants. He wonders, "Does it turn you on thinking about settling down with me? Wanna be my wifey that badly?" When you nod he coo, "Aw ya warmin' up my cold heart doll." Slipping your finger past your lips, coating them.

Holding your fingers to his lips, "Want me to taste more of your soaking cunt? Ask nicely." There is a dark wet spot, his light gray underwear giving a mouthwatering outline. Cupping Toji, fondling him through his underwear.

He grabs your wrist but loosens his grasp as you massage his cock. You can't get the words out "If want to have your cunt filled with my warm cum, have it fucked deep into your guts you'll have't speak to me." Slipping your hand into his underwear. His warm, soft yet hard in your hands. His cock head is wet with smeared pre-cum.

You're wondering how it's easier to act than to plead. "Please Daddy taste my pussy" your voice drops, "fill me full of cum." Dragging his tongue up one of your fingers.

He demands, "Louder princess." He arches a brow and with more volume, you plead,,

"Please Daddy I want you to taste my pussy and fill me full of cum." He takes your fingers into his mouth. Eagerly cleaning your fingers. You slip your hand down, massaging his balls. He slips your fingers out with a pop.

"Your hand is so soft on my cock n' balls. But-" He pulls your hand out of his underwear, pushing you down onto the bed. Spreading your legs roughly, giving you a thrill of excitement.

He looks like on he's on the verge of ravaging your soaking cunt with the hungry almost feral way he looks at your pussy. You fight the urge to cover yourself up underneath Toji's studious gaze.

His scarred lips spread into a wide, cocky, hungry smirk. "Whose virgin pussy is this?" He covers your cunt with his large palm.

It's getting easier to whine, lust clouding your mind. Edging out your anxiety. "Yours Daddy. All yours. Use my virgin pussy to make you feel good." You can't hold your head up when he rubs his palm into your clit and lips. Between having someone else touch your pussy for the first time and the toe-curling pleasurable friction you can't think.

"Baby I just touched you and already you look like you loosen your mind. Such a beautiful, sensitive little virgin cunt pretty n' wet for me mama." He moves his hand to kiss your puffy clit.

Whining when he pulls away. You lift your head watching Toji walk to his dresser, where he pulls out a bullet-shaped toy. It springs to life vibrating, gently humming in his hand.

"Have you used one of these?" His cocky smirk makes it hard to think of little else other than the curve of his lips. The angular shape of his jawline and his narrow, dark brown eyes.

Toji groans, fondling his cock through his underwear. "The way you look at me doll, are you hungry for daddy's cock?" Closing the gap between, grabbing your chin, tilting your head back.

"Answer me mama. I'm being patient for your first punishment but eventually that will run out." He lets go of your chin, holding the vibrating toy out to you. Hesitantly taking it from him.

You huff, "First punishment?!" Furrowing your eyebrows, protesting, "But I did nothing!" He tilts his head to the side, confusion momentarily taking over his features.

Toji drops his underwear, pushing it to the side. "Did my darling forget you talked shit about yourself earlier?" His veiny, thick-hanging cock has you barely paying attention to anything else but his words.

Could he fit? Much less could you wrap your hand around him?

You want to grab him, kiss him, and bite his thigh. "When you throw a tantrum because you're moody or if you disrespect yourself, you'll get punished. Those are my first two rules." Toji grabs your chin, lifting your head. Tearing your gaze from his thick muscular thighs, fat cock, and large balls.

He grabs his cock, lifting it to your lips. "Princess the way you're lookin' at me is boosting my ego. I've been aching to fuck the shyness outta ya." Opening your mouth, sticking your tongue out.

Tempting Toji into touching you more, he glides his cock past your glossy lips. "Fuck I can't help myself. Suck in your cheeks, keep your teeth away, relax your throat." Sticking your tongue out, hallowing your cheeks. Looking up at him with watery eyes, gagging when he goes too deep.

The thought of him using your mouth to get off clouding over your nervousness. The second he stops moving you bob your head. Eliciting a loud groan of, "That's it, good girl, makin' me feel so nggg." His groans are getting rough raspy undertones making your cunt wetter.

"I wonder what crude things you're gonna say when I fuck the shyness outta ya." Tighten your grip on the pulsing toy, dipping it between your legs. You quickly jerk it away.

Toji croons, "Is my princess cute little cunt too sensitive for the toy?" Shoving your head down, forcing his fat, veiny cock into your throat. "That's too damn bad, hold it there." Touching the toy to clit. Whimpering around Toji's cock, curling your toes into the plush carpet sticking out from beneath the bed.

"Don't care how many times you cum if I see you take the vibrator off your clit one more time I'm slapping both your cheeks ten times with my belt." Lightly touching your clit, tensing up, jerking your hips back. It's a struggle to keep it on your clit.

The painful pleasure is beyond anything you felt cumming because of your fingers. Toji croons, "More pressure than that, don't fight the pleasure you can handle it princess. Ngg Such a shame I have to punish ya, when all I want to eat your pussy till she sloppy n' sensitive." He slips his cock out and crouches in front of you.

"But that will have't wait till you understand how beautiful you are." He groans "Never seen a pussy so beautiful to get me drunk on sight." His praise emboldens you to spread your lips apart for him.

"So fuckin' gorgeous, good girl, you already know what daddy wants to see. Mm fuck she's so beautiful clenching, looks like she's throbbing just aching for me to fill her up." He drags two fingers along your lips, gathering slick.

"Too bad I can't eat ya out mama. Such a pretty little virgin pussy, I should want to be gentler with ya. But it's makin' me feral, wanna ruin her, do things you've only read about and seen in porn." He grabs your thighs.

"Wanna be mean and feel your unstretched virgin pussy squeezin' my cock." His filthy words getting you off. "I'm strong enough to make my fat cock fit no matter how tight your little virgin cunt is. It would hurt you so much till I fuck her loose. You would look so beautiful cryin'." Your trembling, your tight cunt dripping cum before his eyes.

The thought of mean, angry Toji fucking you like he hates you is exciting and intimidating.

"It's getting so hard to think straight just lookin' at your pretty cunt. I'm going to make her cum even harder with my dick." He doesn't stop there his thought driving back to his sadistic fantasies.

"The thought of you tryin' to run away from my cock is drivin' me crazy. Wanna pin you down and fuck you into submission. More so I want to make you feel good, I never want to do anything you aren't comfortable with." He stands up, heading for the same drawer, pulling out a clear sleeve, big enough to fit his cock.

You're aching to pull the toy away from your clit. The pleasure is too much. "Daddy!" Willing yourself to withstand the intensity of the toy. If you couldn't take this, then how would you handle your massive boyfriend's oversized cock.

He has the type of cock you only see in videos. It's the type of cock that ruins a pussy for any other cock. And he is going to be your first.

You plead with Toji, "I'll be a good girl for you! I can handle your big cock daddy." He pulls out a bottle, pouring a clear liquid into the sleeve.

"Can you princess?" He sticks to fingers into it, and you've never been so jealous of an object before. "Yes! Daddy I can handle anything you give me. Wanna please you." Your whiny needy voice barely sounds familiar.

He slips his fingers out. "You're such a good little princess so eager to please. You'll be such an easy service sub for me to train." Bringing it over for you to look inside.

He smiles. "Aren't I lucky to get the chance to be your daddy dom." He holds the toy out for you to see. Recognizing the pussy sleeve from videos of muscular men similar to Toji jerking their cocks off with them. The outside of it is a replicate of fat, thick lips, and a puffy clit.

"You have't till I cum to convince me you know how beautiful you are. I want you to watch me fuck it while thinkin' 'bout how deep I'm gonna be in your guts." He spreads the fake lips apart, holding it closer to your lips.

"Put some flavored lube in it, go ahead n' taste." It smells sweet and fruity. Sticking your tongue into it, your nose touches the faux clit.

Toji croons, "Good girl, how does it taste? Hopefully good, 'cause you'll be drinking it with my cum." He pulls it away to line up with his cock. He glides it down his cock, tilting his head back, closing his eyes, and groaning.

"I wanna touch you." You want to be the one to draw pleasure reactions from him. To make him feel so good that his eyes roll back and his body shakes from overstimulation.

Toji insists with a taunting smirk "Shoulda thought of that 'fore shit talking n doubting yourself." Rolling his hips, turning the side showing his thick veiny cock gliding into the toy. "Nng going to stretch your sensitive soaking cunt with my fingers after you drink my cum."The clearness of it lets you see how deep he is reaching.

He's going to reach inside you, stretch your pussy out, and leave his warm cum deep inside you. "You've been blue-balling me for so long if I don't jerk off first I'm going to bust the moment I slip your sexy little super soaker." Your thoughts, his words, the sight in front of you, and the sensitivity of your pussy as you cumming again so quickly.

Your cunt spasming, thick clear cum squirting from your cunt onto the floor, and his bed. "Are you going to cum from watching my beautiful cunt make a mess?" He drops to his knees.

His voice is rough as he orders "Keep talking about your beautiful pussy sexy mama or I'm stopping." He grabs the toy and throws it onto the bed, burying his face into your pussy.

strawberry brat all works

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theywhowriteandknowthings · 22 days

Text

Sing My Praises | Soap x AFAB!Reader | PWP Oneshot

This blog is 18+, Minors DNI. NSFW makes up most of the content I post.

Summary: Johnny loves a bit of praise ;) Word Count: 3k~ Warnings: Alcohol mention/assumption, this is just PWP, Johnny is Subby, Johnny has a praise k*nk, protected PiV (I know?!), face-riding, face-sitting, oral(F!receiving), dirty talk galore, Johnny is a Good Boy, no race/appearance coding of reader, but reader wears a dress, has a vagina. Let me know if I missed anything!

AO3 | CoD Masterlist

You spotted him from across the bar an hour ago as you sipped on your overpriced drink. It’s been a long week and you’ve got two things on your to-do list: drink and fuck. And you’ve almost finished your drink.

You check him out without an ounce of subtlety or sliver of shame. He’s handsome, and he knows it. Stubble graces his strong jaw, sparkling blue eyes, Mohawk styled just right. He’s just your type.

It seems he’s noticed you too.

He says something to the three men he’s been with all evening, resulting in a chorus of testosterone filled grunts of assurance and encouragement. You stop yourself from smirking at that, you want to play coy, for now.

He saunters over, fixing his mohawk with dextrous fingers as he flashes you a smirk so saturated with self-confidence it’s almost comical. But there’s a cool, calculated shine to his eyes that tells you he’s more than just a peacocking asshole. This man means business.

“Evening gorgeous,” he greets you as he sits down on the free stool to your right, the gentle Glaswegian accent rolls off his tongue like honey, “Couldn’t help but notice you’ve been on your lonesome all night, d’ya mind if I remedy tha’?”

You turn on your stool and take your time in looking him up and down now he’s closer. It’s mostly for show, but you can’t help but admire the way his jeans hug his thighs, nor the way his biceps strain against the short sleeves of his plain black t-shirt.

“Why, aren’t you a bold one?” You ask as you take another sip of your drink.

“Aye, you could say tha’,” he flashes you a smile that might dazzle someone younger, less experienced, but you see right through it, “I’m John, by the way, but my friends call me Johnny.”

He extends his hand out to you, and you smile, despite yourself, at his earnest nature. You take his hand and give your name before squeezing it firmly, which makes his eyebrows shoot up in awe. His palm is hot and rough on your own and you can’t wait to see how it feels elsewhere on your body.

“Well, Johnny,” you say with a soft chuckle. You release his hand, only to trail your fingertips up the inside of his wrist, circling over his pulse point as you hold his gaze, “Do you want to cut the bullshit and come back to my place?”

~*~

You’re in an Uber in minutes, Johnny’s fingertips ghosting up your bare thighs, under the hem of your dress; only to be moved back each time he gets too close to your panties. All you want to do is mount him, right here, right now, and make him come apart. But you relish in the way he whines as you slide his hands back down your thighs.

“Enough,” you hush him as his fingertips dig into your knees, “I’m not fucking you in the back of a taxi.”

“You sure?” He asks, voice thick and raspy as he leaves hot, wet kisses along your neck, trailing up your neck to nip gently at your jaw.

You crane your neck, baring it to his ravenous mouth as you palm his bluge through his jeans. He yelps, a bright, endearing sound as he bucks up into your eager touch.

“Very sure,” you say with an elated sigh as he cups the side of your face, turning you to look at him as he places a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth, “Want to take my time with you.”

“Fuck,” he moans before slotting his lips over yours, the heat of his mouth on yours has you trembling. You slip your tongue past his all-too-willing lips as you tug on the base of his mohawk. He growls against you as he slowly caresses your tongue with his own. It’s thick, heavy in your mouth as you let him feel like he’s in control.

For now.

The driver clears his throat loudly as you feel the car shudder to a halt. Johnny looks up in surprise and before he can so much as blink you’re slipping out of the car and making your way to the front door.

You hear a muffled curse from behind you followed by the car door slamming behind you. Before you’ve got the key in the lock he’s pressed against you, mouthing desperately at the side of your neck.

“Fuckin’ need you, hen,” he murmurs against your skin as he grinds against your ass, the hefty bulge in his jeans making your mouth water at the size of it.

“So eager,” you respond as you fumble the door open, stumbling through with a distinct lack of grace as the Scotsman spins you to face him. His mouth is back on yours as he kicks the door shut, pushing you against the nearest wall as his firm hands find your hips.

Your fingers fist in the front of his t-shirt as he slots his knee between your thighs, his stubble scrapes your skin with a delicious burn as you grind against him. You nip at his bottom lip and your pussy clenches at the soft little whines he makes as his palms drift up and over your ribs.

“You wanna do this here, or have ye got a bed, hen?” He asks as he grazes his teeth along your jaw, the wet drag of his tongue against your skin makes you arch up against his broad chest.

“Come on,” you say as you shove him back, “Follow me pretty boy.”

You lead him to your bedroom, pushing him down onto the bed before pulling your dress over your head, revealing your lacy underwear set. You tug on his t-shirt and without question he pulls it up and over his head. He’s sat in just his jeans, and you hum in approval as you rake your eyes over his muscular torso.

“Bloody hell,” Johnny breathes as he sits up, “You’re fuckin’ beautiful lass.”

“You’re not too bad yourself,” you say with a grin as you sink down onto his lap, “But a pretty boy like you doesn’t have to be told that do you?”

You shudder as his hands grope at the meat of your ass, kneading at your tender skin as he splays his fingers out. His icy eyes glimmer up at you as you scrape your fingertips down his chest. He groans low and you bite your lip as you increase the pressure, red lines raising on his skin as his jaw falls slack.

“Oh, do you like that, Johnny?” Your voice is mocking as you watch his eyes glaze over, “You like a bit of pain?”

“Yes,” he breathes as he rolls your damp crotch over his clothed cock, the friction makes you gasp as he rubs the fingers of his right hand over the curve of your ass, “Fuckin’ love it.”

“Good,” you groan as you feel the thick, blunt tips of his fingertips press against the thin lace covering your pussy, “Fuck, Johnny.”

You clench around nothing as he teases two fingers over your clothed cunt, the friction makes you weak as he increases the pressure.

“Want to make you feel good,” he growls against your sternum as he buries his face between your breasts, “Can I lass?”

“Please,” you whine, already losing the grip on your senses as you feel his left hand ghost up your ribs, a calloused palm catching on your skin as he feels for your bra clasp. You’re about to help when you feel the pressure release, your bra folds down and before he can help, you’re slipping your arms out of the straps and throwing the lacy garment across the room.

“You’re good at that,” you compliment him with a giggle as both his hands come up to cup your tits, “You get a lot of practice?”

“Not as much as I’d like,” he says with a wink, and you feel the heat rush to your cheeks as his tongue darts out of his mouth to lap at your left nipple. You gasp at the way he circles your stiffening bud, bright blue eyes locked on yours as he watches you pant and whine.

“Yes, that’s it,” you say with a hard roll of your hips, “Good fucking boy.”

You almost let out a triumphant laugh when you hear the whimper escape Johnny’s lips, but the way he latches onto your nipple and sucks hard has you squirming in his lap instead. He’s grinding up against you now as you tug on the base of his mohawk, you’re so close already.

“You like being called a good boy?” You ask breathlessly as he releases your nipple with an audible pop before trailing wet kisses across your chest.

“Fuckin’ right,” he moans against the curve of your breast before nipping at the tender flesh there, “Nothin’ like pretty woman singing my praises, lass.”

“I’ll sing for you Johnny,” you say as your head lolls back, “But you gotta make me come first.”

“I intend on it,” he says, lips teasing against your stiffened peak as he swirls the tip of his tongue in torturously slow circles around it.

“You gonna let me ride your face, pretty boy?”

“Steamin’ Jesus, lass. Yes,” he groans against your chest before sinking down onto his back, pulling you down with him as he moves back up on the bed.

His lips find yours as he slips his fingertips beneath the lacy band of your panties, rolling them down your thighs. You awkwardly kick them off the rest of the way, the pair of you laughing into each other’s open mouths as you wriggle above him.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he breathes as he guides you by your hips to hover over his face, your knees rest either side of his head as his fingertips trace invisible patterns up and down your thighs.

“Got a filthy mouth on you, Johnny,” you purr as you let the tension in your thighs release, easing your aching cunt closer to his eager mouth.

“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, hen.”

You’re about to challenge him when his fingertips dig into the swell of your ass before pulling your cunt flush against his mouth. You cry out as his lips wrap around your clit, his tongue swirling around the swollen, throbbing bud as your thighs tremble.

You moan low as you steady yourself on the headboard, knuckles burning and chest heaving as he devours you. You look down to see his bright eyes alight with desire as he groans against your mound.

He rocks you back and forth over his tongue as you feel the tight pull of your release threaten to spill forth. You grind down harder on him now, desperately chasing your high, and you feel him tremble beneath you as he sucks even harder, making you see stars.

“Fuck, that’s right,” you cry out as pleasure bursts through you, your legs weakening as you come, “Eat my cunt, fucking yes, good boy. Good fucking boy.”

You clench hard around nothing as you ride his face, bucking your hips over his greedy tongue as he laps and sucks wantonly at your slick folds. He dips his tongue into your entrance, making you whine as he rocks you through your aftershocks.

You flop forward as you succumb to overstimulation and Johnny helps you ease down onto the bed. He slips out from under you, and you feel a broad palm on your left ass cheek as he gently kneads at it.

“Got a pretty wee voice there, hen,” he says with a chuckle, and you can’t help but smirk into your bedsheets as you feel the heat burning through your entire body.

“And you’ve got a filthier mouth than I gave you credit for,” you say with a huff as you roll onto your back, looking up to see him still wearing his jeans, “Get naked for me.”

He does so without a word and as he ditches his jeans you watch with rapt attention as he pulls down his tight boxer briefs. His dick springs free and you clench around nothing.

He’s thick and uncut, his length considerable but not daunting. You curl your toes and your pussy clenches around nothing as you consider throwing caution to the wind and letting him fuck you raw.

“Pretty dick for a pretty boy,” you say with a sultry lilt, “Shame we have to cover him up.”

“Aye,” Johnny says with a flash of his pearly whites, “But whatever makes you comfortable, I’m squeaky clean, if that helps?”

You roll onto your front, wiggling your ass a little as you reach into your bedside table to fetch a foil packet.

“As much as I’d like to trust you,” you muse as you roll back over to present the condom to him, “I’m not so naïve to trust the word of a one-night stand, no offence.”

“Clever,” he says with a nod, if he’s displeased with your choice he doesn’t show it, “Maybe we’ll just have to schedule a few more of these rendezvous, and see where we go?”

“Haven’t even got your dick inside me, and you’re so sure there’ll be another? You are a cocky one,” you tease as he rips the packet open before rolling it down his length. You shift back up onto the pillows and spread yourself out for him.

“I’d have thought by now you’d know I’m here to get you off as much as myself,” he counters as he kneels between your thighs, “You get that from all of yer one-night stands?”

“I dunno,” you say as he rubs his tip through your dripping folds, “Maybe I have a type.”

“That so?” He scoffs and you lick your lips as he notches his tip at your core, “Guess I have something to prove then.”

He presses into you with a slow, purposeful roll of his hips and any witty retort dies on your lips. You mewl at the way he stretches you out, his cock thick and heavy, you practically forget he’s wearing a condom as he sinks deep inside you.

He bottoms out with a thick grunt, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips and you smile against his mouth.

“God, you feel good,” you breathe as you slide one hand down between your slick bodies, the other cupping his stubbled jaw. You run your fingertips over your swollen clit, shuddering and clenching around him as you start to build up to another orgasm.

“So do you, like fuckin’ heaven,” Johnny pants as he nudges his nose against yours.

“Johnny?” You ask in a tight whisper as you wrap your legs around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back as you cross your ankles.

“What is it?” He asks, pulling back a little to look you in the eye, there’s a sobriety to his tone as he checks in.

“Want you to fuck me rough, fuck me dumb on your pretty little cock,” you say with a whisper against his lips as you tilt your hips up, digging your heels in to pull his pelvis flush with yours.

Johnny whines in response before grinding down into you, flattening your hand between your bodies as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. He presses his entire body weight onto you as he moans against your skin.

“Such a tight little cunt,” he whimpers as he pulls almost all the way out, your walls aching to be filled.

You don’t have to wait long, as he fucks down into you with fervour as he sets a brutal pace. You pant and whine as he sucks marks into your skin, your free hand tugging at the short hair at the base of his skull as you work your clit.

“Fuck, Johnny,” you cry out as the lewd sounds of skin slapping on skin fills your senses, “Feel so fucking good,” you babble as you gush around him. You’re so close, blindingly so, as you feel him shift above you.

“Yeah?” He pants as his thick fingers dig into the backs of your thighs, “Gonna fuck you like you deserve, make you come on my cock.”

You gasp as your thighs are pushed up; knees folded up as Johnny puts you in a mating press. You can’t help but cry out as he rams his thick cock deep inside you. He hits a spot deep inside you that you’ve rarely felt before.

Your vision blurs and you feel tears forming at the corners of your eyes as your orgasm explodes. You pant and cry out as he fucks you through your release, your lips find his and you groan into his mouth as he continues to fuck you hard.

“Gonna come lass,” he snarls as his pace falters and his forehead presses against your own.

“Come inside me,” you say, without thinking, as you feel his dick twitch as he slams his hips flush against your thighs. He fills the condom with a low whine as he holds himself there, pulsing inside you.

You kiss him again, tongue pressing past his lips in a slow, probing dance as you feel the energy ebbing from your body. You eventually collapse together in a sweaty heap, chests heaving, and lips pulled up into wide smiles.

You force yourself to go and pee, Johnny following close behind to dispose of the condom in the bin before washing up and rejoining you on the bed. The room smells of sex and the sheets are damp but there’s a tranquillity to the way you lie facing one another. For some time, you just stare, not touching as you both try not to drift off to sleep.

“So,” Johnny eventually breaks the silence, “Do I meet your standards for a second date?”

You laugh breathlessly as you run your fingertips over the slope of his nose and down to the curve of his lips. There’s a warmth buzzing in your chest, something more than post-nut euphoria, as you consider your answer. There’s great risk in making decisions in such a blissed-out state, but something tells you that you won’t be able to stay away from Johnny. Even if you wanted to.

“Buy me breakfast, and we’ll see.”

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heart-of-the-morningstar · 3 months

Text

More Lucifer x f!reader stuff!

I was sent an anonymous prompt for more Lucifer x reader and I got a little done! This will more than likely contain more NSFW later, but this snippet doesn't have any so no active warnings!

Regardless, that didn't stop him from holding your face tenderly in his hands while he kissed you with a fiery passion. You were self conscious about being so vocal around him during intimacy, but he made it his mission to elicit as many moans and whines from you as possible. Slowly, he reached down to the hem of your shirt, grabbing a fistful of fabric. Your eyes popped open, your mind racing. You pulled away from his lips and went to grab his wrist that held your clothing.

"I-I'm sorry, love," he apologized, releasing your shirt immediately. You sighed and let go of the grip you had on his hand. "I didn't mean to scare you, I should have asked. Please forgive me."

"No, no," you breathed, "it's alright. I'm not upset, I just panicked. I'm sorry."

Lucifer pressed his lips to your forehead and planted a small kiss. "Please don't ever think you need to apologize to me for how you feel, sweetheart."

"O-Ok," you stuttered.

"Do you want to stop?," Lucifer asked. You could hear the genuine concern in his voice. Hard as it was to believe, he cared about you more than anything.

You shook your head. "No."

"You're sure?," Lucifer questioned further, "because if you're uncomfortable, we can-"

Your face instantly feels hotter and your breathing becomes hotter. You tried to say something, but the words caught in your throat. Your mouth has never felt drier. He finally reached the last button of his shirt and you finally see some of his chest. You could almost feel your brain short circuiting.

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #writing #my writing

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hysteria-things · 3 months

Note

I need a 3rd part with Nate soooo bad

SINFUL DESIRES (part three)

read part one here

read part two here

read part four here

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: nate x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you’re going on a date this weekend! oh, and the date is your arch nemesis… so you say.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: FLUFF, swearing, friendly banter

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 704

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: second anon i kid you not i wrote this in the afternoon and had it in my drafts to post later and when i saw that in my inbox i was gobsmacked LMAO

ANYWAY thank you sm and here is the awaited part three💕

the mirror placed on the wall next to your front door has your reflection on it as you fix up your hair and lipgloss.

you still cannot fathom that you’re going on a date with nathan doe.

well, he didn’t want to admit that it was a date. he said — and quote — “we should go get something to eat this weekend. dress fancy, too!”

the ringing of the doorbell echoes through the foyer, and you give one last peek at yourself before opening the door.

nate’s dressed in a white dress shirt, black dress pants, and shoes. he has a small bouquet of tulips in his hand, your favorite flowers ever since you were little.

he remembered.

his eyes scan your body that’s hugged with a sage green dress that has some poof to it, daisies embroidered on it. the sleeves are off the shoulders, and gold jewelry decorates your ears and neck. “well, well, well. look who came to their enemy’s doorstep holding presents. how thoughtful.”

“oh, shut up. i’m here to pick you up for our date.”

his hand never left your thigh as he drove to the restaurant, and you hate to admit that the feeling made you blush.

he opens the door for you, and you step out to admire the exterior. the lights around it are dim and the colors of the building are warm earthy colors. it’s definitely an italian restaurant. also your favorite ever since you were a kid.

he remembered that, too.

the hostess brings you guys to the table, and you get settled as the both of you look through the menus.

“you look very beautiful tonight,” he says, peeking at you from above the menu since they're bigger than your heads.

you hide your smile with a lip bite. “thank you. you look handsome.”

he chuckles, tapping your foot from under the table. the waiter comes over, places your orders, and takes the menus.

nate leans on the table to admire you, smiling as you start talking. “do you know what we should do after this?”

“what should we do, pretty?”

man. that nickname’s starting to grow on you.

you grin. “we should go to barnes and noble. i need more books.”

“you don’t need more books.” he rolls his eyes. “nerd alert.”

he lets out a sound of pain when you kick him under the table. “nate, please? for me?” you give him puppy dog eyes along with a fake pout.

he crosses his arms. “we’re not going to fucking barnes and noble.”

you went to barnes and noble. you drag nate behind you by the pinky, smiling when the whiff of books hits you.

you go over to the young adult section, skimming through them to find a book that’ll interest you.

he’s leaning against the bookshelf, staring in awe. he doesn’t understand how one can love books so much, but it’s okay because it’s you.

when you find a book you like, you go over to the counter. “hello!” you greet, placing the object on the counter.

the cashier scans it, tapping a few buttons on the screen in front of her. “that’ll be $21.00.”

you go to reach for your card, but hear a BEEP and look up, seeing nate’s card inserted into the machine. “you already paid for dinner.” you say lowly.

he nudges you with his arm, taking out his card. “do you have a pen by chance?” he asks the woman, using his hand to portray a writing motion.

she gives one to him, and he moves you so you’re behind him. he starts to write something in your book, and you jump to try to look over his shoulder. it’s no use.

“na—”

“thank you.” he smiles, giving the pen back and grabbing your book. “let’s go.”

when you guys get comfortable in the car, you sigh. “what’d you write in it?”

he stares deep into your eyes, taking the book off of his lap and handing it to you without saying another word.

you hesitantly open it, and a small message written in blue pen is revealed on the inside cover.

y/n,

will you officially be my girlfriend?

circle one:

yes or yes

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @idkhowtosleep @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts

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lunajay33 · 3 months

Text

Enjoy the Silence🌪️

Summary: Things in your past has driven you to be silent but will someone be able to break that shell, will someone finally listen to you(might make this into a series!)

•Masterlist•

Things happened, awful painful things happened to me as a child even as a teen, that feeling never really went away, it was there deep in your heart, lingering at the back of your mind so I learned to never let those things happen again because my heart couldn’t handle that, so now I stay silent I don’t let anyone in

So when the apocalypse happened I got to run away from the things that were holding me back, from the people that hurt me and I got to find a group at the quarry that were so kind, they accepted me, they accepted after awhile that I didn’t talk they were my family now but there was still the thought of getting hurt so I kept that part of myself locked away

But I heard the others talk about it sometimes, they just thought I was mute and I’d rather then think that than the real reason

When we found the prison I thought things might be getting better but then that fell and then terminus brought up so much pain but now we were finally someone secure, Alexandria

The two house split up the group, I stayed with Rick Michonne Carl Judith and Daryl, my room being right next to Daryl’s which made me feel safe, every since I met him at the quarry I felt this peace around him, I never knew why until I saw the scars that littered his body that’s when I knew he felt my pain, he understood

And from the way he looked at me I think he knew why I was also silent which took that weight off my chest

I got up from my bed and went to get ready for the day in mine and Daryl’s shared bathroom in the basement, I brushed my teeth pulled my hair back for the day and got dressed in my shorts and long sleeves black shirt, I opened up the door to leave when I bumped into Daryl scaring me a bit from the impact

“Oh sorry” he said looking down at me

I just smiled and moved to the side to let him past, when he passed he brushed his hand over my shoulder giving me this weird feeling in my chest I’ve never felt before, usually I hated people touching me but for some reason his touch was…..nice

I walked upstairs grabbing an apple and heading out to the gardens, during the day Maggie and I usually worked on maintaining the gardens, it was relaxing and helped me forget about what plagued my mind, the day went on as usual, until it was my turn for watch, I sat on the perch looking over the wall

I always watched at night, me and someone else well whoever wanted to, the others in the group said I shouldn’t be out every night and to switch regularly every other day with someone but I just shook my head and continued this routine

As I was watching the sight before me, the occasional straggle walker waiting for my watch partner, some people I preferred over others as they didn’t push me to talk and just enjoyed the silence with me

That’s when the ladder started creaking as someone climbed up to take watch with me, the grunt that I heard when the person sat next to me I knew exactly who it was and that feeling in my chest was back

I looked at him greeting him with a simple smile which he returned and that feeling just grew, it was confusing I didn’t know what it was it was so foreign maybe that’s just what happened when I felt comfortable with someone, that must be it

“Have a good day?” He asked looking at me

I nodded resting my head on my hand that was perched up on my knee, then I motioned to him for his response

“Day was alright, went on a run actually found somethin fer ya” he said as he rummaged through his bag he brought up, it was a surprise for sure no one really ever got me anything….like every

He pulled out a new pair of boots and a new long sleeve shirt, I gasped at this gesture it made my chest feel tight with happiness

I took the boots and tried them on and they were a perfect fight the shirt looked like the right size too, instead of black like my usually shirt this one was dark green

“I saw yer shoes were falling apart and ya only wear this black shirt, thought ya might like somethin’ new” he said grunting, clearing his through but I knew this kind of thing wasn’t normal for him either

I felt so happy someone would do this for me, I placed my hand on his and squeezed it hoping he realized by my touching him, which was rare, showed how much this really meant to me

“It ain’t a problem” he said turning his hand to hold mine, I thought he’d pull away but he didn’t and I liked it, for the next few hours of our shift we sat there in silence, some occasional questions but he held my hand the whole time, something new, something warm

Our shift was over now as Abraham and Sasha replaced us

“Get some sleep you two” Sasha said smiling as you both started walking back to your house

~~~~~~~~~~~

Daryl’s POV

She gasped, a noise actually left her, and it was the cutest thing ever, there was something about her, maybe because she was quiet she didn’t try and fill the silence with stupid chit chat, sure I liked to talk with some people normal conversations but with her it was some of the only time that I felt relaxed

And when her eyes lit up at the present she looked so happy which a lot of us never really got to see, for as long as I’ve known her I’ve never really seen her happy, but this little gesture shows that she never really got presents kind of like me

But even though I was closed off most of the time except with Rick and Carol, I wanted to be able to get closer to her, show her she can be happy, but I don’t wanna push her too much, just a little at a time

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

Normal POV

Last night I had the best sleep of my life, maybe it was the peaceful evening with Daryl, maybe it was the way he made me feel and distracted me, but whatever it was I was able to sleep through the whole night without waking up from a nightmare

I got dressed in my new boots and new shirt, along with my usual jean shorts, I only had one pair but I felt like too much of a burden to ask for a new pair even though I’ve only been wearing these since the farm when Maggie gave them to me after my pants were ripped

But I mean Daryl gave me this shirt and boots maybe it wouldn’t be too much of a problem to ask for him to keep an eye out on his next scavenging outage, they always came around asking everyone if people needed something and I always declined, so just this once so be fine….right?

I went upstairs and Carl Michonne Rick and Daryl were sat at the table having breakfast, Rick holding Judith and feeding her pieces of peaches, normally I’d take something and leave but after last night I wanted to get closer to everyone even just with small little gestures, so I decided to sit at the table in the open chair by Michonne

Everyone looked at me first with shocked expressions but smiled after they realized what happened

“Morning! Have a good sleep?” Michonne asked smiling as she put a pancake on my plate

I nodded smiling genuinely, finally feeling refreshed after actually being able to sleep through a whole night

“Are you working on the garden again today?” Carl asked

Again I nodded shovelling the pancakes into my mouth, starving from having missed supper last night

“Are the tomatoes rip yet I’m wanna make pasta for the family” Rick asked

I held my fingers close together showing that the tomatoes were close to being done and Rick was happy about it, I helped clean up from breakfast and went to head to the garden but right before I left the porch I saw Daryl was already cleaning his bow and thought this was the best time to ask

I went and stood infront of him fiddling with the ends of my shirt, he looked at me as he sat his bow down

“Ya good?” He asked

It’s been a long time since I’ve talked to someone so this was a big deal for me

“Ummm…..can you look for shorts for me next time you go out, if it’s not too much to ask” I blurted out quickly wanting to get it over with

It was silent for a while and it was getting uncomfortable for me, he was the only one I finally got the courage to actually talk too and now he’s the one not talking

“Sorry” I said turning to leave but before I made it down the porch he gently took my shoulder stopping me

“I can do that, I’ll bring ya back a few ta pick from” he said giving me a gently smile

I felt that weight lift from my chest, I nodded smiling and left to harvest any rip foods, as I was placing some strawberries in a basket I kept thinking about Daryl, I only ever really see him smile like that when he was talking to me or Carol and it made those butterflies erupt in my stomach, and it was driving me insane I didn’t know what this meant

“Here have some water it’s hot as hell out today” Maggie said breaking me from my thoughts as she handed me her water bottle, I wiped of my hands and chugged some feeling a bit better

The sun was really beating down today and the longsleeve wasn’t helping but it was like a safe thing for me to feel covered, shorts were fine but I liked being fully covered on my top half for some reason, maybe I’ll just take a break in side for a second

I took the strawberries bringing them to the kitchen for Olivia to store, I took a few and brought them back to the house placing them in the fridge for the others, after cooling off I headed back out to help Maggie and let her take her break

I was working later into the evening after harvesting the food, I went on to pick off any dead leaves, replanting some sprout to make more plants and doing some watering, now that the sun was setting I sat on the patch of grass off of the garden relaxing after a long day of work, feeling the little breeze blow through my hair

I was so relaxed almost falling asleep when someone sat next to me shaking my shoulder

“Hey” that gruff voice I knew anywhere, looking beside me to see Daryl with his bag again

“Me and Rick went out on a little run today, found a store that was barely looked through” he placed his bag infront of me motioning to it

I pulled out like 5 pairs of shorts all kinda similar to the ones I have now but in varying colors, denim blue, black, light denim, army green, and dark grey plus all the same size as mine now, he really new my sizes perfectly

I held them too my chest smiling so much my cheeks hurt

“Thank you” I said

“No probelm, maybe next time ya can come with me”

“Sure!”

“Ya know I’m still not use ta ya talkin ta me……I like it” he said making be blush

“You’re the only one…..I’m comfortable with you”

“Why?” He asked you just shrugged your shoulders

“Ya can talk ta me ya know”

“I know I’m just not…..not yet”

“I get it, we should go home get some dinner before Carl eats everything” he said standing holding his hand out for me, I held the shorts tight and took his hand but he didn’t let go all the way back to the house

Something new was happening, it was scary but I was willing to try whatever this was

—///—///—///—///—///—///—///—

Part.2<-

Thinking of doing a part 2 if you wanna be in the taglist comment!!

Taglist: @deansapplepie

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auteurdelabre · 19 days

Text

A LITTLE SUN PART 7 (part II) Dieter Bravo x f!Reader

rating: 18+

tags: SMUT. Penetration, Oral (m and f receiving), use of 'daddy' (but you ain't into it), use of 'baby', Dieter being Dieter, fluff, like such tooth-rotting sweetness its almost gross, idiots in love, pregnancy, talk of pregnancy body changes/self esteem, love love love, family issues, mentions of parental death.

a/n: Tumblr is dumb and won't let me post the entire chapter in one post. ARGH. So below is part two.

HERE IS PART ONE OF THIS CHAPTER.

series masterlist

Your mother is pacing around the kitchen when the doorbell rings. With a muttered grumble she strides to the front door, tugging it open with a flourish. She expects to see her pregnant daughter there, what she doesn’t expect is a six foot movie star she hates to be flinching at her.

He’s wearing a short sleeved linen shirt, freshly pressed slacks and his usually unruly hair has been combed neatly. He even got Magda to trim his beard for him. He wants to make a good impression.

"Hi," Dieter says, his stomach churning anxiously as your mother stares him down. "I'm Dieter-"

"I know exactly who you are," the woman snaps, arms crossing over her front. "What do you want? I’m afraid I don't have any more daughters for you to buy babies from."

She tries to look around his broad shoulders. "Where is my daughter by the way?"

Dieter shuffles back and forth, his expensive dress shoes scraping the ground. Suddenly all his bravado has left him and he feels much like a chastised child.

"I wanted to talk to you," Dieter explains. "Just you and me if that’s okay?"

Your mother's brows knit angrily. "So she couldn't even be bothered-"

"She doesn't know I'm here," Dieter interjects.

He goes to say something more when he thinks he notices a car slowing down up the block. Paparazzi. Your mother notices as well because she ushers Dieter into the house, closing the door behind him sharply.

"You have five minutes."

Dieter slips off his shoes and follows her to the couch, about to launch into his speech when he sniffs the air.

"Are you baking?"

"Cinnamon bread. My daughters favorite," your mother says, eyes misting. She regards Dieter a moment, softening. "Would you like a piece?"

"I'd love one."

He takes a seat on the couch as ordered, watching as your mother brings out a tray holding several slices of cinnamon bread, a tea pot and two mugs.

“This is so fuc- darn delicious,” Dieter corrects himself, wiping the crumbs from his fingers on his pants, much to your mother’s dismay. “I love it.”

Your mother offers a small grunt by way of reply, watching him eat and taking small sips of her tea. Dieter notices you both hold your cups the same way, forefinger and pinky slightly out. It makes him long for you, wishing you were here with him as he attempts this conversation.

But you can’t be, he knows you’re too stubborn for it. Judging by how your mother is looking at him now, it’s a familial trait.

“I wanted to come over and try to explain things.”

“There’s nothing to explain,” your mother snaps, her teacup placed on the coffee table. “You and my daughter made a baby, she’s selling it to you and she never told me.”

"I'm sorry it was a secret for so long,” Dieter says. “It's just because of my notoriety that we had to keep it under wraps.”

“From the world, I understand, but from her own mother?” She shakes her head. “Do you know how hurtful that is? To find out your only child is pregnant because of the tabloids? To think you’re going to be a grandmother and then find out she’s selling the baby off?”

“She signed an NDA," Dieter explains with a wince, knowing how awful it sounds. "I'm so sorry. She hated to do it. It was my fault."

"And your mother?" Your mom huffs. "I bet she knew she was going to be a grandma before the tabloids di-"

She breaks off, irritated when she sees the hollow look in Dieters eyes.

"My uh, my mom isn't alive," Dieter says, fingers tapping anxiously at his side. "She died when I was in my twenties."

"Your father?"

Dieter shakes his head, wincing. Your fierce mother immediately softens her tone, her shoulders lowering.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“You shouldn’t be sorry to me about anything,” Dieter says in a soft rasp. “I’m the one who you should be mad at. Not your daughter.”

Your mother wraps her arms around herself. "How is she?"

"Hurt. She misses you."

"Must not miss me much. She's made no attempt to call."

"She's worried about what you'll say. Your opinion matters so much to her, you know that. Especially with her dad gone."

Your mother swallows. "They were so similar. So stubborn and..."

Suddenly the dam behind the woman's eyes breaks and Dieter watches her face crumple.

"I just wish he was here," she says, shoulders shaking. Dieter feels his own eyes filling with tears, his heart aching in tandem. He can't help but reach out and cover her hand with his.

"I’m so sorry."

"If he was here he would know exactly what to say," your mother continues, allowing his hand to remain over hers. "Michael could always get through to her when I couldn't."

“My mom knew me in a way my dad never did,” Dieter offers after a moment. “Knew exactly the right thing to say at the right time. It’s hard not having that. But you still have time with your daughter. Time that’s wasting with you two being mad at each other.”

Your mother blinks up at Dieter, a slow understanding reflected in her swimming eyes. As if she’s seeing him properly for the first time. He continues on, encouraged that it’s been over five minutes and she hasn’t kicked him out yet.

“And I know you think this whole thing with the baby is a spontaneous decision and that I’m massively immature and yeah, I can be. But you need to know that when your daughter told me she was pregnant it was the best day of my life," Dieter says, his voice thick with emotion.

He takes a moment, swallowing and blinking furiously. His hand tightens around your mothers’.

“But I’m not that guy anymore. I’ve changed. She’s changed me, my son has changed me. I’m not perfect, but I also don’t think there’s anyone in the world that will love your da—grandson more than me.”

Your mother blinks rapidly, her weathered face softening further. “My grandson?”

“If you want him to be,” Dieter explains, suddenly unsure. “If your daughter is okay with it. I don’t have any parents in my life. It would be nice for him to have a grandmother.”

Any lingering distaste your mother may have held for Dieter is wiped away in that moment. The sincerity in his wide dark eyes and the nervous way he twists the rings on his fingers endears her further.

“And I know you’re upset with her about all of this but I promise I’ll take care of her for the rest of her life,” Dieter finishes, his eyes glassy. “Even if she’s in Sacramento doing school. Even if she never wants to see me or our son. I want to make her happy and that means taking care of you too. The house is paid for; your daughter will be taken care of.”

Your mother’s hands move from under Dieter’s to over, clasping his wide hands tightly. She has a gentle smile on her face now, the anger gone from her voice.

“I thank you Dieter. That is a kindness that touches my heart. Knowing I can remain in the same house I raised my family in means more to me than you realize. But it wasn’t your place to do it.”

“I know.”

“I can’t accept it.”

“Please,” Dieter begs with his big brown eyes so round and sorrowful your mother has to blink back a new onslaught of tears. “She’s giving me the world. The rest of your mortgage is nothing in comparison to that.”

Your mother can’t help but laugh out loud at the earnestness in his expression. He grins crookedly as she laughs, wiping tears from her lash line. He waits until she sobers, shaking her head with a small smile on her face.

“Alright, I accept it. But only if you’ll let me cook you dinner every once in a while.”

“And cinnamon bread?”

“And cinnamon bread,” your mother says laughing again. “As for taking care of my daughter? That is something you’ll have to take up with her. But be warned she’s even more stubborn than me.”

“Don’t I know it,” Dieter grins shyly, causing the two of them to chuckle between themselves softly.

“I’ll call her,” your mother says resolutely. “I need to apologize and tell her she can move back home if she wants.”

Dieter immediately stiffens. He hadn’t thought about this part.

"Actually if its okay I want her to stay with me until the baby is born," Dieter explains, curls falling into his eyes, his mannerisms anxious. "I like having my son nearby."

"And perhaps having my daughter nearby too?" Your mother peers into his face with a small curl of her lips. “You care for her. More than a boss for an employee. Or a father for a surrogate.”

Dieter looks overcome for the moment, his dark eyes on the floor. He doesn’t know how to respond.

“That’s between you two,” your mother acknowledges. “It’s not my place to say anything.”

Before Dieter can say anything in reply he hears the sound of a frantic key turning in the lock and the front door is thrust open.

The two of them whip their heads in the direction of the front door to see you stumbling into the house, slamming the door behind you. Your hair is wild, your face flushed and you look extremely pissed off. You look at the two of them on the couch and your brows knit.

“What the fuck is going on here?”

"How did-"

"Magda," you answer before Dieter can finish the question. "Why the fuck are you here at my house with my mom?"

You watch as your mom rises from the couch next to Dieter. Her eyes are wet and when she gazes at your very full stomach she gives a soft little gasp.

"Honey-"

"Don't honey me," you snap, feeling angry tears welling in your eyes as you glare over at Dieter. "Let's go, Dieter."

"Baby, wait-" Dieter starts, pausing only when you whip back around to fix him with a leveling glare.

He looks so sorrowful standing there between you and your equally broken-looking mother that you find yourself relenting. You have an idea on why he’s here and even if it wasn’t his place you can’t deny that it was kind of him to try.

"Go wait in the kitchen, please."

Dieter opens his mouth to suggest something else but the glint to your eyes has him slamming it shut and nodding. You wait until he's shuffled into the next room before looking back at your mother.

"Baby?" Your mom ventures gently.

"He calls everyone that," you lie.

She nods slowly but you know she doesn't believe you. Your mother also knows you well enough that she doesn’t attempt to sway you.

"Here, come take a seat," she offers motioning to the couch. "Your ankles must be swollen."

You lift a surprised brow but you waddle over to her, settling into the seat with an exhale. You look at Dieter’s leftover cinnamon bread crumbs and frown. How long was he here for? You look back to your mother, shocked at her gentle countenance. You’d expected anger or frustration, instead you see only regret.

"How did you know about the ankles?"

"I was the same when I was pregnant with you," she says coming to sit on the other end of the couch. "I carried high like you as well."

"Really?" You absently drape your fingers over the curve of your stomach.

"Oh yes," your mother smiles, eyeing your bump.

As you sit there discussing this with shy smiles you wish that this pregnancy was normal. That you had a husband and excited family that threw you a baby shower for a child you'd be able to bring home and care for at the end of it all.

You wish your mom felt comfortable to place her hands on your stomach and to care for this little boy you carry. But she’s holding back her emotions, not wanting to get attached.

After several moments your mom shuffles closer to you on the couch, her hand coming to cup not your stomach, but your cheek.

“I’m sorry,” your mom says, and you’re shocked at the tears pooling in her eyes. “I never wanted… I just… I acted shamefully.”

“I don’t understand why,” you explain, chin wobbling. “We’ve always had a great relationship. Or I thought we did.”

“I thought we did too,” your Mom acknowledges. “But considering you kept this a secret I think I might have done something wrong along the way. You never should have been afraid to come to me with this.”

You don’t know how to answer that.

“You won’t understand until you’re a -” you mom catches herself. “A parent provides for their children, not the other way around. I felt ashamed that you felt you needed to take care of me.”

For a moment you look at her not as your mother, but as a woman. A tired woman who sacrificed so much to see you taken care of and your heart cracks.

“I like taking care of you Mom,” you explain, swallowing the tears there. “I love you. You’re all I have left. Fighting with you these past few weeks has been awful.”

“I know honey,” your mom says and now she pulls you into her arms, rocking you as if you were still that child who ran to her with a scraped knee or boy troubles. “I’m so sorry, please forgive me.”

“Of course I do,” you say, burying your face in her shoulder as you let the tears flow. For the first time since your father died the two of you cry together, arms wrapped around one another, your son nestled between the two of you. Finally sniffling you pull back, wiping at your eyes.

“Were you mean to Dieter?”

“Tried to be,” your mother replies with a grin. “Impossible to be though. He’s very sweet.”

“He’s been amazing through this whole thing,” you answer honestly, feeling the need to sing his praises to the woman who usually derides him. “He’s been the most supportive, caring version of himself I’ve ever seen. Sober, sweet and I love being around him.”

Your mother’s eyes search yours intensely, so much that you blink wondering what she’s looking for. Her gaze breaks when a shy Dieter knocks on the wall separating the two rooms.

“Uh, is it okay if I come in?”

Your mother laughs. “We’ll come to you. My daughter needs some cinnamon bread.”

The two of you stand, your mom helping you before letting her hand fall briefly to your swollen belly. You watch her face beaming as she does before her eyes go to yours.

“My baby having a baby,” she murmurs.

The two of you enter into the kitchen hand in hand. Dieter is standing by the sink, his hair even more wild than usual. He was obviously running his hands through it anxiously.

Dieter approaches you both slowly, as if he’s concerned one of you will be furious. When he sees the easy smile in both of your faces and your clasped hands he feels the tightness in his chest release.

“Thank you, Dieter,” you tell him gently as he approaches. He doesn’t push it, doesn’t ask you to elaborate. He just nods his head, smiling and coming to stand next to you. Your mother releases your hand, coming to stand in front of you both.

“Now you can retire,” Dieter offers with a hopeful look in your mother’s direction.

“No,” your mom says shortly, drawing both sets of eyes her way. You feel yourself deflate, closing your eyes for a steadying moment. You can’t stand the cruelty she’s still holding in her heart for Dieter after everything.

“Mom-“

“No, I like my job,” your mother tells Dieter, ignoring you. She comes to stand in front of him, having to look up due to her short stature. “I enjoy it. So I won’t retire. But I will work less and try to enjoy more of my life.”

You both break into easy grins.

“Yes ma’am.”

Your mother’s smile dims a fraction as she gazes between the two of you.

“Dieter has offered me a chance to be the baby’s grandmother,” your mother says quietly. “But that will be your decision my love. I won’t do anything that you’re uncomfortable with.”

You swallow. “Do you want to be his grandmother? Even if I’m not in the picture? Even if we have no legal right?”

“I would,” your mother replies without hesitation. You turn your head to face the taller man to your left.

“And you’re really okay with it, Dieter?”

“More than okay.”

Dieter’s eyes are on the ground, suddenly overwhelmed with emotions. He wishes his own mother was here, wishes she could have met you. He knows that she would have loved you.

“Then I’m okay with it,” you murmur.

He’s so grateful that his baby will have a grandmother. Even if you want nothing to do with him he’ll forever have this tie to you.

Your mother glances over at Dieter before stepping towards him.

"Let me see your face," your mother demands cupping Dieter's stubbled cheeks in her hands and forcing his eyes to hers. A few quiet minutes pass, their eyes in silent communion before you see both sets watering.

You watch in shock as your mother leans forward and in an act so naturally maternal kisses Dieter's forehead gently.

"You're a good man," she tells him gently. "A good man who acts silly sometimes."

When tears slip down Dieter’s cheeks you feel your jaw drop. Your mother pulls him into a tight hug, rocking him as they stand, murmuring something into his wild hair. You breathe unsteadily when his own arms go to wrap around her waist, clinging to her. He looks like a lost boy finding harbor in the embrace of his mother, his shoulders shaking gently as she soothes him in her arms.

She looks over at you, smiling gently. She tugs you over into her arms as well and before long the three of you are embracing standing in the middle of your mom's messy kitchen.

"Will you two stay for dinner?" Your mother asks eyes hopeful when the three of you break apart, all sets of eyes glassy.

"That would be so great," Dieter says excitedly before you can answer, rubbing at his wet eyes. He wants to take advantage of being in your home. He wants to see where you grew up, where you exist when you're not with him.

"You're Chilean right?"

"Part, yeah."

"Right, I'm going to pop out to the market," your mom says with a wide grin as she picks up her car keys. "I'll be back in a flash."

Your mother is gone excitedly out the door before you can even process what’s happening. That you’re having dinner with your boss and your mom and your unborn child. It’s all a bit much. And yet the thought warms you.

“So do I get a tour?”

“Sure,” you say grinning. Without thought you take his hand, guiding him through the hall pointing out the rooms, giving small synopsis like “this is where I was standing when my first boyfriend called and broke up with me” and “this is where I fell in the tub and cracked my tooth”

“And you know my bedroom,” you tell him with a smirk. “Very acquainted with the closet, I believe.”

He grins before taking his time looking around your room. Last time he’d been in a rush, but today he looks at everything. He sees the framed photo of you on horseback, the science ribbons for first and second place. He notices a trophy for high school tennis. He grins at the poster of Cillian Murphy behind your door. He sees the Polaroid’s of you and your friends stuck to your mirror.

“You never mention your friends,” Dieter observes pointing at the photo. “How come?”

“I never see them,” you shrug coming over to peer at them. “They all got married, had kids. I was in school and then I was working and we kind of just lost touch.”

“Do you miss them?”

“Honestly? Sometimes. But school and my career just always seemed more important.”

“You don’t think you could have both? A career and a family?”

“Not really,” you shake your head. “Can’t have it all.”

“Why not?”

“I dunno,” you shrug again. “Something has to give.”

“Only if you have a shit partner,” Dieter offers.

Before you can say anything more he’s gone to your bookshelf, looking at the tomes that reside there and muttering their titles under his breath. You watch him just existing in this room, before your reason for rushing over here affronts you.

“Did you pay off my Mom’s mortgage?”

“Yeah,” Dieter replies after a beat, twisting to face you. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

You stare at Dieter as he says this, the passion in his voice overwhelming you. Since when was this his plan? You’re supposed to take the three hundred grand and go.

“Why do that? You knew I was going to do it.”

“I wanted that money to be for you,” Dieter explains. “Not taking care of the mortgage and everything else. I’d pay for your school too but something tells me you’d refuse that.”

“Correct.”

“Your mother was right, you are stubborn.”

This gets a shocked laugh out of you. “What else did you two talk about?”

“That’s between her and me,” he says with a supercilious look on his face. “I think she might like me better than you at this point.”

Affection swims through your limbs and it carries you to him. Without warning your hands go to his shoulders, mouth pressing gently to his. He accepts this eagerly, his wet tongue dabbing against yours gently.

"Thank you," you whisper against his full mouth. "But you don't have to take care of me."

"I like taking care of you," Dieter murmurs, his nose tracing yours. "You spent so long taking care of me and everyone else; let me take care of you now."

You nod; kissing him again and feeling him slowly back you towards your bed.

“Mia,” you remind him.

“Its fine,” he assures you, hands tugging at the hem of your shirt.

“I’m not going to sleep with you when you’re in a relationship, Dieter.”

“I’m not,” he promises you, “I swear.”

You want to press him for more information. But more than that, you just want Dieter. You need to be as close to him as possible. You need to feel his bare skin on yours, inhale the crook of his neck, taste his lips.

And when he gently urges you onto your back in your childhood bed you don't fight him. You allow him to bring down your shorts and panties and even though you can't see anything other than his hair over your belly you can't stop the gasp that escapes you when his mouth begins to work over your core.

Moments later after you've come spectacularly for him, groaning out his name with your thighs quivering against his ears and your hands fisting through his hair, he crawls up next to you on the bed.

He traces over your abdomen, his dark eyes ever widened in wonder as he feels his son underneath his palm. Sunlight filters in through your bedroom window, giving him a haloed effect as he gazes down at you, his mouth swollen and damp.

"I don't know how I'm going to go back to normal life," you smile sleepily as you run a finger along his lower lip. "After being spoiled by Dieter Bravo school is sure going to pale in comparison."

Dieter keeps the smile frozen on his face but inside his stomach drops. Your schooling is going to start soon. He’s going to be separated from you. He feels his sons foot kick him and you both giggle. At least he’ll have this part of you.

He helps you into your panties and shorts before your mother returns shortly after. If she notices your flushed cheeks and Dieters extra mussed hair she doesn't comment on it.

"I cheated," your mom says with a mischievous little smile that Dieter thinks looks identical to yours as she hands you both your plates when you come to sit at the dining table. "There's a wonderful Latin restaurant in town. They make the best palta."

The food is just as good as she made it seem. Between the palta and the Estofado and variety of empanadas you’re quickly overwhelmed with taste. You take your time savoring it though, making a note to try more Chilean food in the future.

“So I guess I’ll move back tomorrow,” you say after a hot bite of your stew. “I only have the two suitcases.”

Nothing about moving back appeals to you, aside from seeing your mother on a regular basis. You know for a fact that being away from Dieter will hurt, but perhaps that’s for the best. You need to separate yourself from this silly fantasy.

"You can move back here at any time my love," your mom enthuses before casting a quick look at Dieter's downturned face. "But I think it would be best if you stayed at Dieter's. He has all that space and a pool and that chef-"

"But I don't like to think of you here all by yourself," you insist.

"Honey, don't worry about me. I lived with your father and then you for over thirty five years. I need a break."

You sputter a surprised laugh at this. This whole time you had been painting your mother as this sad tragic figure, when really she's a woman coming into her own just as much as you are. You swallow your mouthful, eyes darting to the man at your left.

"Is it okay if I stay at your place a little longer, Dieter?"

"Of course," Dieter enthuses through a mouthful of avocado. "I told you, stay as long as you like. And now your Mom can come visit whenever she likes."

You smile at this, holding in the urge to kiss him.

When Dieter rests his arm on the back of your chair during the rest of dinner you don't even register it happening. When his fingertips absently trace your upper arm as he listens to your mom talking about her job you don't notice.

But your mom notices. She notices it all.

On the drive back home your mind is a muddle of things. But mostly your heart swells with the knowledge that Dieter, a man you always thought was chronically selfish did this for you at no gain for himself.

"You didn't have to do that for me," you tell him as you walk back into Dieter’s home a short while later. He’s quiet with a faraway look in his eyes.

"I know. I just wanted to help."

The two of you are heading to the kitchen, about to put away the leftovers your mother insisted on sending home with you. Dieter takes them from your hands with a soft “I got it” before popping them in the fridge.

Dieter had always struck you as self-centered, the entire time you worked for him. From the flippant way he spoke to people in the industry he disliked, to the cavalier attitude towards other PA’s.

But right now all you can think of is the way he's continually showed up for you. The way he supports you in not only this pregnancy but your schooling, your family, your goals. You see a change in him, one that takes your breath away.

“Dieter?”

“Yeah?”

He sees your eyes and the way they go dark the longer you stare at him. The desire is so clear in your expression.

He crosses the room and his mouth comes to yours, petal soft. He sighs, hands coming to either side of your neck, thumbs propped against your jaw. You lean into the kiss, your belly sandwiched between the two of you.

"Take me to bed, Dieter."

Dieter doesn't hesitate, his arm bands around your waist guiding you to the bedroom.

He takes his time undressing you, kissing every part of your flesh he uncovers. He kisses the stretch marks on your belly, and he caresses the extra flesh that pads your body with a reverence that makes you teary.

Your stomach is getting too large for missionary so he sweetly urges you to roll onto your side, not doing anything until you’re comfortable. Only then does he makes sweet and gentle love to you, your head on his arm as he fills you slowly, watching the way your body responds to him.

He holds you delicately at first, not wanting to be too rough. But you’re eager, so fucking eager, and your hand goes to his hip, urging him to go harder, to go faster.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, your thigh over his, your body slowly being pumped into by him. You’re arching, whimpering his name as he holds you against him. Every stroke feels like adoration, every graze of his fingers against your clit feels like more than just desire.

“I need to hear you come, baby,” he murmurs, his nose running along your temple. You turn your face to him, kissing him gently as his thrusts deepen, his lips hot and needy.

“Wanna come for you,” you gasp, your body starting to clench around him tighter and tighter before your head is tilted back against his throat as you cry his name. Your body spasms as arousal coats his cock still buried within you.

“So good for me, so fucking good,” Dieter groans, his thrusts becoming erratic. Before long his eyes roll back and he’s emptying himself into you, hands gripping your chest and cunt, needing you as close as possible.

Slowly your breathing slows and you both grow drowsy. But before you fall asleep you roll until you’re facing him. He looks so beautiful staring back at you with sleepy eyes and his curls spread out on his pillow.

You kiss him gently, hand at his collar before pulling back.

"Dieter, I think you're gonna make an amazing father."

Something about the sincerity in your voice moves him to tears that he has to blink back. He draws you closer to him under the duvet, needing the warmth of your skin, the closeness of your body.

"Do you really mean that?"

"Every word."

Dieter is on a unicorn floaty, half dozing in the late morning sunshine when you ask him.

"Dieter, will you tell me about your mom?"

It comes out of nowhere one day in the pool. You're half stretched out on a purple pool noodle, your lower half submerged in the clear water as you kick lazily. Dieter turns his head when you ask him.

"What about her?"

You shift on your pool noodle, getting comfortable. "What was she like?"

Dieter takes a moment to compose his thoughts. His lower lip tends to stick out when he does it.

"Funny. Smart. Dramatic like me." Dieter grins. "She died when I was in my early twenties and sometimes I wanna be furious about all the time I didn't get to spend with her. But then I count myself lucky I had two decades."

You don't say much to that. You don't know why but you crave more knowledge about Dieter that isn't surface level. You crave more from him, almost like you need to know him better than anyone.

"She's the one who encouraged me to go into acting," Dieter continues. "She worked two jobs so she could pay for my acting classes."

"Really?"

"Yeah. She was so excited when I got the scholarship to RADA," Dieter says dragging his hand through the water.

"She sounds amazing."

"She would have loved you," Dieter says before he can stop himself. For some reason this comment causes your heart to flip.

He looks momentarily lost in thought before turning his gaze to you. His eyes scan the freckles starting on your shoulders, the light that shines in your hair. He's dazzled for a moment before he remembers that he wanted to ask you something.

"What about you? What was your dad like?"

A little smile breaks out over your features. You rarely talk about your father but right now all that comes to you are good memories.

"Smart. Scary smart actually. Like, every time we played wheel of Fortune he'd guess it within like the first two letters," you laugh gently. "He was the first person I told about my Masters program. The first person I told about a lot of stuff. He was always my cheerleader."

"Sounds like a great dad."

"He loved your movies," you say, kicking your feet in the water gently. "He made me sit through a Cliff Beasts marathon one year for his birthday."

Dieter almost falls off his floaty in shock.

"No shit. Really?"

"Yeah," you give a giggle before turning a bit reserved. "He and your mom would have gotten along, I think.”

"Bet they would have been the most amazing grandparents," Dieter says in a faraway voice.

"Definitely."

Dieter shifts in the unicorn, causing it to squeak. His sunglasses are slid back up his nose and he grows somber.

"You must be excited about starting school again," Dieter says tightly hoping the disapproval in his voice isn't obvious.

He looks over at you when you don't reply right away. You look conflicted, almost guilty as you glide a hand through the water in front of you.

"Sometimes I wonder if I'm continuing on with school and everything because that's what I was doing when my dad died," you offer solemnly.

"Are you?"

"Not sure. When he died I thought it was such a natural next step to use my biology background and go into research." A niggle of doubt is there at the back of your head. "But I'm not sure that's what I want anymore."

"So you might not go back?"

Dieter hopes the eagerness in his voice isn't too obvious.

"I don't know," you answer honestly before sliding off the pool noodle and paddling in place. "I'm tired. I think I'm gonna have a nap."

Dieter watches you walk up the steps of the pool, ass twitching as you grab a towel and head into the main house. But that's not what causes the grin to start on his face.

You're not sure about going back to school.

There's hope.

"Just this once," Dieter murmurs, his teeth skating along your pulse point. "C'mon baby."

You’re on all fours, your stomach supported by a variety of pillows. Dieter is behind you, hands on your hips, his body tilting over yours. It’s a Saturday night and he’s just got back from a particularly boring table read.

His hands found yours without question when he got home not long ago, pulling you along with him to bed and whispering into your ear the one thing he’s wanted to hear since he got you pregnant.

You sigh heavily, eyes closed as he sinks into you.

"Please make me come… Daddy.”

Dieter groans lowly in his throat, his cock driving into you deeply. You're too overwhelmed by the sensation to be turned off by the honorific. And if he’d just left it at that, you could have continued without further distraction.

But Dieter is completely turned on by the expression, his hands coming to hold yours to the mattress as he tilts his mouth to your temple.

"Yeah, you made me a Daddy," Dieter breathes against your ear as he thrusts. "You like that? Huh? Daddy fucking you?"

“Not at all,” you cringe, unable to help yourself from laughing. The entire ‘Daddy’/‘Mommy’ thing has never turned you on. “I hate it worse than baby mama.”

Dieter sighs, his motions slowing. "C'mon."

"It's creepy," you tell him. "I don't like the Daddy thing."

"Fine," Dieter grumbles as his motions slow further. "Just wanted a little dirty talk is all."

Dieter’s thrusting has gone from staccato-ed to completely still. You glance over your shoulder at him with your brows raised. His cheeks are red, he’s embarrassed. Dieter rarely gets embarrassed like this and you find it completely endearing.

“I was just trying to have a little fun,” Dieter pouts, about to pull out of you.

“Hey hey, I like fun,” you tell him, wrapping your hand around the back of his neck so he can’t leave in a huff. You start to push back against his length, gratified when you hear him give a muffled whimper into your shoulder.

“Like maybe you tie me up sometime?”

“You’d let me do that?” Dieter asks in awe, his cock slipping further into you. You groan at the sensation, arm dropping as you gain purchase on the mattress once more. His thrusting is increasing in tempo again, stoking that pleasured spot within you.

“Yeah,” you breathe softly. “Yeah, I would.”

And you mean it. You’ve never done it with anyone else, but you would with Dieter. He doesn’t do things harsh and cruel. He touches you reverently. You trust him. “I’d let you tie my wrists and ankles,” you tell him, body arching as he continues to thrust. “Let you have your way with me.”

Dieter gives a guttural choke at the very thought of it. You tied up, spread eagle on his bed so he could go down on you for hours. Pulling delicious fucking noises from you as you writhe for him.

“Would you want that?” you tease, knowing very well he would. “Having me at your mercy, Dieter? Fucking me exactly how you want?”

“Yes,” Dieter almost shouts, “fuck yes I would. Please…. Fuck I…”

His forehead dips to your shoulder blade as he pulls you back and forth against his length, jutting his hips forward. You feel so good, so silken and tight and perfect and he can’t believe this is happening. That you’ve fallen into this comfortably rhythm of give and take. That you can be vulnerable with him like this.

“How would you fuck me?” you ask, feeling your climax approaching. “Tell me, Dieter, I’m so close.”

“Would eat you out for hours. Wouldn’t…. wouldn’t be able to help myself,” Dieter grunts, his cock quickly pressing into you over and over. “Then I’d turn you over...a-and I’d tie your wrists together, mmmph…. And I’d…I’d-“

Dieter doesn’t get to finish that thought because he feels you hit your peak, whining out his name as you climax. Dieter feels your cunt milking his cock and his voice croaks out some garbled gibberish as he empties himself into you.

You fall asleep not long after that, your naked body glowing in the moonlight like some goddess of myth. He realizes he would do anything to keep you like this. Happy and sated and with him.

But mostly, he wants you to want him.

"You said you got into RADA right?"

"Yeah, but I didn't go," Dieter says as he goes over his latest script suggestion from his agent. "Got a reoccurring part in a soap opera a few weeks before I was starting and then the first Cliff Beasts and then, well, you know the rest."

"Do you still have your audition tape?"

"It's on YouTube. Some asshole uploaded it when I got nominated for my Oscar."

"Really? Can we watch it?"

"Knock yourself out."

Dieter watches you waddle to the tv room, excitedly bringing YouTube up on the television and typing Dieter Bravo RADA audition.

You sit on the couch, looking eagerly up at the screen. A very fresh-faced Dieter pops up.

"Oh my gosh you're so young!" You say with a girlish giggle. "So weird to see you without a beard."

Dieter can't help but casually make his way over to the couch, plopping down next to you and watching his younger self.

"Hi my name is Dieter Bravo and I would like to submit myself for acceptance into your program," the young Dieter says, eyes bright and smile big. "Today I'll be performing Gloumov’s monologue from The Diary of a Scoundrel” by Alexander Ostrovsky."

"Your voice is so different."

The young Dieter positions himself slightly to the left of the screen.

"Barely out of puberty." Dieter casts a critical eye over his formerly svelte frame. "And about fifty pounds lighter."

"I like how you look now," you answer honestly. "More manly."

Before Dieter can accept that compliment his younger self is starting the scene.

"Look into my eyes. Can’t you see there that I’d rather die than cause you a moment’s pain?"

Young Dieter takes a moment, his dark eyes beguiling as he stares into the camera, overcome, before continuing. And there on the screen You see the same transformation that you saw back on set in Ireland. Where Dieter becomes the character.

"Oh, if you only knew how many times your sweet, gentle smile has stopped me on the very brink of impropriety," the young Dieter pauses, his eyes shiny.

"But even that day when I forgot myself, you didn’t turn me from the house! Oh, my God, what happiness you’ve given me. What happiness, what happiness!"

A tear is shining on young Dieter's cheek as he gives a soft smile into the camera, a look of relief on his face.

"Holy shit," you breathe, eyes wide. "Dieter that was ... Really good."

"You sound surprised."

"Well I guess ... I've only really seen you in the Cliff Beasts movies. I didn't know you could, you know, act-act."

"You thought I won an Oscar for having a great personality?"

You give him a playful shove as Dieter's younger self comes back to the screen.

"Thank you for your time. Hope I see you in the fall."

Dieter plucks the remote from the coffee table about to change it to something less him. He tires of seeing his face on televisions and phones and sides of buses.

Something captures his attention though, one of the suggested videos on the right.

"Hmmm, there's a video on home births," Dieter says as he navigates the screen. "Wanna watch? Might prep us."

"Sure."

Thirty minutes later Dieter pauses the television, both of you sitting shell-shocked next to one another.

"That was a terrible idea."

"I agree."

The camera had captured everything. In HD detail. Up close. Including a very vivid image of a baby crowning.

"That's what's gonna happen to me?" You say in a high pitched voice, struggling to your feet. "I can't do that!"

You've been reading books ever since the strip turned pink, but actually seeing it is totally different.

"A little late for that," Dieter says from the couch watching you begin to pace back and forth in front of the television.

"That was disgusting," you say with a particularly aggressive jab of your finger towards the television. "Did you know about the placenta? It's like I have to give birth twice!"

"At least it's not twins," Dieter offers weakly. He doesn't miss the irritation that flashes in your eyes.

"Should we watch the rest?"

"Your call," Dieter shrugs. You take a moment, looking at the television paused on a serious looking doctor.

You take your seat next to Dieter once more. "Okay. I'm ready."

Twelve minutes later the movie is shut off indefinitely.

"An episiotomy?" You practically shriek before leaving the room. "If that happens I'm charging you extra, Bravo!"

Your mother starts to come over weekly for coffee. The first time she does you show her the nursery. She's all smiles and wet eyes as she walks around the space. You know she's marveling at the high-end designer items, the impossibly soft sheets and ornately carved crib. You never grew up with expensive things like that.

When the two of you make your way into the kitchen and you make her a coffee she smiles up at you.

"Dieter told me about the charity he's thinking of creating."

You almost drop the espresso cup that you're holding. "You talk with Dieter?"

"Of course," she nods. "He calls me to update me on the baby and texts the odd photo every now and again."

"What?!"

You're struck dumb by this. Your mother barely texts you, and now she's best friends with your boss? She smiles at your discomfiture. But you’re blown away, and a little irritated since you also send your mom updates via email almost daily when she’s not here for her weekly (decaf) coffee checkups and snuggles.

"You fit right in here."

"I'm just part of the scenery until the baby gets here" you smile pouring her the coffee and sliding the mug towards her across the counter. "Then it's back to school and on my way to a PhD for research."

You slice up the carrot cake that Petra made for your visit (along with your help), sliding a plate to your mother and taking one for yourself.

"I wanted to talk to you about that," your mom says, gaze curious. "Why are you doing the PhD thing?"

You sit across from her, brows raised. "You know why, Mom."

"It’s just you never wanted one before your father passed," she says lightly. "You said your Masters was enough."

You don't know why but you feel defensive.

"Well when he died I wanted to do something to honor him I guess. What better way to do that than by helping with the research?"

"Your father was a smart man, he was amazing at his job and so proud of you, you know that," your mother tells you before placing a dry hand over yours. "But his biggest joy in life was being a father."

"What are you getting at?"

"I'm saying I don't want you to dedicate your life to something because you feel like you should. This is your life, my love. You only get one."

"I know."

"There are plenty of ways to give back, to honor your father and still be around to watch your son grow up."

Your hackles immediately rise and she can tell the second they do.

"I'm sorry," she says quickly when she sees the expression on your face. "Never mind. Let's talk about something else."

The rest of the visit flows smoothly, but you can’t ignore the way your mother looks at you whenever you mention Dieter.

"Taco Bell."

Dieter is woken out of a deep sleep by your lips at his ear. You're curled up together in his bed, your belly prodding his lower back.

"A Burrito supreme and a large Baja blast… And Cinnamon Twists…And four fire sauce packets."

You're warm against his spine, voice a soft whisper huffed along his earlobe. He’s dazed, his eyes blurry as he attempts to understand what’s happening.

"Huh?"

"I need Taco Bell," you urge. "Please?"

A quick glance at his phone tells him that it's nearing 2:00 a.m.

"S'too late for the delivery apps, baby," he murmurs, patting your thigh companionably as if the conversation is now over.

For the most part, Dieter can anticipate and appease your cravings. Usually through Petra or food delivery apps. But at almost two in the morning he has access to neither.

You don't care.

You've been tossing and turning for hours because all you can think about is the beans and tomato and beef... You're practically drooling already. You pat his bottom politely, trying to signal he needs to get out of bed.

"The drive thru is open."

"It's late."

"But I need it," you whine.

You have no interest in attempting to drive one of Dieter's fancy foreign cars he keeps in the large garage. And it's too late to call a town car so you're stuck.

"No one ever needs Taco Bell. Bringing that shit in here is offensive," he mutters into his pillow. "S'full of filler and chemicals."

You give a soft exhale through your nose, about to flop onto your back in defeat when something occurs to you. Something else that you're craving as well.

Dieter is drifting back to sleep when he feels the light graze of your hand sliding over his hip. He thinks he's imagining it, but as the sensation continues his cock begins to stir. He goes rigid as your hand slides under his boxers, fingertips teasing his warm length as he groans.

"You do this for me and I'll do something for you when you get back," you purr, tongue coming to trace his lobe. "Daddy."

Dieter jumps out of the bed and nearly trips in his pursuit to grab his car keys as he simultaneously tugs on his sweatpants.

"You want cheesy potatoes too?"

When you wake up at seven months pregnant and see your reflection one morning you almost burst into tears.

You’re standing in front of the dresser mirror in your bikini, the only one left that fits. Your tits are practically bursting out of the cups, the bottoms tie at your hips dig into your flesh. You feel huge, you feel ugly and you feel not yourself.

There’s a knock at the bedroom door. Dieter peeks around, already dressed for the pool, a pink towel slung over his freckled shoulder.

“Swim time?”

Usually you swim by yourself, but Dieter has a rare free morning this week and he wants to take advantage. It had seemed like such a nice suggestion at breakfast, but now you balk, wishing you had anything else to wear but your fucking bikini.

Before it hadn’t mattered, but today you feel gross. You want to cover up as much as possible and you reach for your towel. But Dieter’s eyes are already drifting over your body, his cock stirring.

Dieter takes in the way your stomach protrudes out in the bikini, a beacon of fertility; his son nestled there safe within your body. He moves into the room, the towel dropping without thought onto the floor behind him.

"You're exquisite," Dieter breathes, his hand coming to rest on your belly. You feel his thumb gently rub, his eyes sparkling as he continues to stare at you.

"I look disgusting," you say cringing away from him. Dieter won't let go of your wrist as you try to flee.

"Are you fucking insane?"

“Dieter stop,” you say, wincing away from him and trying to pull your wrist out of his warm grip.

"You don't believe me," Dieter states flatly.

"No I don't," you reply sharply. "It's what everyone tells pregnant women so they don't feel shitty about looking like a house."

Dieter blinks at you as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing before he’s shaking his head. His hands slide to your plush hips, turning you back to face the dresser. His eyes have blown pitch black, and his hands can’t stop from running along your body.

"Look at her," Dieter groans into your ear. "Look at that sexy thing in the mirror."

"Dieter-"

"Keep looking," he urges you, hand gently forcing your face in the direction of the mirror before his hands slide up your bikini top over your breasts, pebbling the nipples. You swallow at the sensation, not even protesting when he unties it at the back, letting the colorful fabric drop to the ground.

You stand there in nothing but your bikini bottoms, cheeks flushed as Dieter groans deliciously behind you. His hands come to cup your tits, thumbs grazing the protruding nipples.

“See her gorgeous fucking tits?”

You cringe away from the mirror, hating how you look. But if Dieter is lying about how turned on he is, he’s a better actor than you ever gave him credit for because his cock is swelling against your lower back, stiff and pulsing.

You let him untie your bikini bottoms, finding yourself already slick between your legs when they drop to the ground along with everything else. You watch in the mirror as Dieter sheds his swim shorts before gently urging you to place your forearms on the dresser.

You can only watch his face as he notches his cock at the entrance to your pussy, rubbing the head there and gathering the copious amounts of slick. His eyes flick from your face to your cunt as if he can’t decide which he needs to see more.

“Keep watching yourself, beautiful,” He rasps as he sinks into you, cock thick and full as you gasp. You’ll never tire of that sensation, the first thrust of his cock inside you. Your head falls forward but Dieter’s hand is there, gently making a fist in your hair and urging your face to the mirror.

"See how beautiful she looks when she's taking my cock?"

You can't see shit. Your belly is ballooned so far out you can barely handle it. But you look at your face and you see the heavy eyes and parted lips. You see the way you arch into Dieter’s body and how he towers over you and yeah... It's hot.

"Cock drunk," Dieter tells you with a swell of pride. "All sexy and sleepy looking."

His hands come to brace yours on the dresser, his dark eyes fixed on yours in the mirror.

"You see her?" Dieter pants, teeth gritting. "You see her tits bouncing? Feel her sweet pussy taking my cock? She's fucking magnificent. How can you say she’s not the sexiest thing alive?"

The way he talks about your reflection makes you almost jealous until you remember that it's you he's talking about.

"You're so fucking gorgeous," Dieter babbles as he nears his orgasm. “Never been more turned on in my fucking life.”

And he means it. He means every fucking word. He can’t stop touching you, kissing your shoulder, your cheek, your mouth when you tilt back to face him. You whimper his name when he starts to fuck into you harder and harder.

“Come deep, Dieter,” you grunt. “Fuck me full.”

He does with one final thrust, painting your insides as he cries out your name.

Despite this interlude you still suffer with crisis of confidence at times in the coming weeks. Your back is in constant pain. You waddle when you walk. You've never felt less attractive.

Dieter is obsessed. He can't stop finding reasons to touch you, brushing your lower back when he passes you in the hall.

All pretenses of employer and employee are gone. You’re basically in his bed every night, fucking him whenever you get the chance. Neither of you observe it outright, but it’s there lingering under the surface every time he asks if you’re ready to go to bed. It’s there when you shower together, washing each other’s hair. It’s there when you both murmur good morning and let him kiss you languidly over coffee.

When he catches you napping in the sunshine on his couch he's so taken with you that you wake up to find his curly head between your legs and his mouth bringing you to a gentle orgasm. You keen against his lips, hands going to card through his hair as you come.

You know why he's like this. It's because things are coming rapidly to an end. Once the baby is here this all ends. This ready access to sex, you lounging around his house. He'll have a newborn and you'll have a new life. You won't see him. You'll have your money, you'll be going back to school, and your mom's mortgage is paid off.

Dieter knows how you feel about snuggling and he goes to pull away.

"Don't," you say, arms outstretched, mouth twisted into a pout. Dieter stares at you in surprise, big puppy dog eyes wide. It makes you melt. He wraps himself around you, face nuzzling into your neck. The two of you snuggle there as you flick on the television to a Christmas special.

Just when you think Dieter is becoming a mature and sensible adult you feel him sigh heavily behind you.

“I'm not watching that depressing Christmas movie!" Dieter insists when It’s a Wonderful Life starts up. "I wanna watch the Muppet Christmas Carol!"

He can’t understand why you can’t stop laughing.

One quiet morning with Dieter filming audio reshoots for the Rogue Duchess you sit at the kitchen table, pensive. You stare at the pro and con list you've made sitting in front of you.

Ever since the conversation with your mother you've been second guessing your next steps post birth. Are you just doing it because you think you should be? Are you doing it because that's what you were doing when your dad died? Are you doing it because of misplaced guilt?

Your dad had been so proud of you, telling everyone about your Masters problem and how you were well on your way to a PhD like him.

He talked fondly about having two doctors and a nurse in the house, joking that your home would become like Grey's Anatomy.

Even then you'd felt a bit of the pressure to perform. To pursue a PhD to make him proud. In all your focus and pursuit you'd never really stopped to ask yourself... Is this what you want?

Pros - honor dad - get to be called doctor at the end Cons - no social life - have to move to Sacramento for several years - not guaranteed a job I like when I graduate - away from mom - STRESS - possible burnout - job market is competitive - won't necessarily make me happy

You need to add something else. Something that's been in the back of your head screaming for your attention. You raise your pen to the paper, adding your final item to the con list.

- Too far away from Dieter and Bubble.

And then a sentence you write and then immediately erase before crumpling the entire paper up in a ball.

- I'm in love with Dieter.

[8:43am] D: It hasn't even started and I'm bored out of my fucking mind

[8:44am]: Dieter it'll be fun.

[8:44am] D: no it won't. I HATE these fucking marathon interview days

Hours and hours of sitting with Mia and the rest of the crew talking about the upcoming film being released in a few months. He's covered in concealer and powder, his stylist has him in some absurdly patterned shirt that itches and he desperately needs a cigarette.

[8:45am] D: I wanna be at home with you---

He hesitates before deleting that last message. He can't send you messages like that. You're not dating, no matter how much it feels like you are. He feels twitchy now, all out of sorts as he thinks about you home and waiting for him.

He sneaks off to the corner of the hotel, hoping he can get off a few puffs before Diane wrangles him back inside.

He lights his cigarette, puffing away. He scans the space to make sure it's just hotel employees before he brings out his phone, going through his photos. He lands on the one from the other night, you mid laugh as the Jenga tower falls. You look so happy, so at ease.

He’s so ridiculously in love with you.

How can he let you go? How can he go from seeing you every day to you becoming a stranger? You've got one foot out the door at all times and he doesn’t want to hold you back from your dreams.

It was so easy to play house these past few months. To pretend like you were his. He was such a fool.

"Spare one?"

Dieter fumbles the phone, shoving it a hastily back into his jacket pocket. Its Mia dressed in a sleek black number, her makeup and hair perfect. She motions to the cigarette between his long fingers.

"My last one," he says ruefully.

Mia holds out her manicured fingers in his direction. "A quick puff then."

Dieter relents, handing it off to her. She takes a long drag, enjoying the curl of the smoke as the two of them stand shoulder to shoulder in silence. It feels awkward being together alone, the two of them haven't spoken since Prague. Dieter feels the need to fill the silence.

"How's Sam?"

"He's good," Mia nods. "He's not secretly in love with his assistant so it's already much better than my last relationship."

Dieter can't help but let out a small chuckle at that. Mia has been seen all over the tabloids in recent weeks with her hunky new Scottish co-star. Mia looks at Dieter with a small tilt of her head, squinting up at him.

"You tell her yet?"

"Tell who what?"

Mia takes another drag off the cigarette, giving him a leveling look. "You know who and you know what."

Dieter says nothing, watching as Mia holds the cigarette aloft. She gives a dramatic sign when she sees. He's going to make her have to say it.

"Have you told your PA that you're fucking crazy about her," Mia says flatly. "That you want to marry her and have tons of little Bravo's running around."

"I do not."

"Maybe just the one little Bravo then," Mia smiles, handing him his cigarette. He feels her heavy gaze on him and he knows that she deserves answers. He put her through a lot and she has been gracious as hell about it.

He sighs heavily before twisting to face her head-on. "No, I haven't."

"Why not?"

"It’s…complicated."

"What's complicated about love?"

"She told me she doesn't want to be a part of the baby's life."

"Back when she thought you only wanted to be together because you got her pregnant."

"She doesn't want me."

"Dieter I see how she looks at you. The girl is utterly besotted."

"Might want to tell her that," Dieter huffs in forced amusement.

Despite all the time you’ve spent together, you’ve really never made it clear how you feel about Dieter. Yes, you like the sex and you laugh with him. But you’ve never actually made overtures, talked about the future. You think of a future that doesn’t include him or your son.

Mia pauses for a moment, thinking about something. Her eyes scan the vicinity and before Dieter can do anything Mia grips him by the collar and plants a chaste kiss to his lips. Dieter pulls back immediately, his face cloudy.

"What the fuck-"

"You'll thank me," Mia promises.

He goes to say something to her about how uncool that was but a text from you sails in, almost as if fate is giving him the prompt he needs.

[8:58am]: If I wanted to postpone school for a little bit, do you think I could still stay with you? I could pay rent and everything. I think I just want to reconsider some things. Dunno if school is where I want to be right now.

“Fuck yes,” Dieter breathes, re-reading the message several times to make sure he’s not reading it wrong. You want to stay. You want to stay longer with him. He's still staring at your text with a goofy smile on his face when Mia’s voice sounds out beside him.

“Dieter, c'mon! Interviews are starting.”

He shoves his phone into his pocket, his grin bright as he follows Mia back inside the hotel for the marathon of interviews.

You want to stay.

The alert comes through on your phone, the setting still stuck on sending you Dieter Bravo related news items.

You're relaxing on one of the chairs in the backyard, one hand gently rubbing your belly, the other holding your latest crime thriller novel.

When the alert goes off its instinct to shut the book and retrieve the phone from the table beside you. Normal to scan the links that show up.

BRAV-ROWE ROMANCE BACK ON?

You sit up slowly, holding your expansive belly and grunting angrily. You continue reading as you walk inside, pacing around the kitchen.

Bravo, 40, and Rowe, 25, were spotted earlier today stealing kisses between interviews for their upcoming release The Rogue Heiress. What’s setting tongues wagging is that Rowe has also been recently seen getting cozy with Sam Heughen, 43, back in her native England only last week. Was Sam just a distraction from her real feelings for Bravo? Or is this just a cleverly executed publicity stunt for their upcoming film?

You slam your phone down onto the counter, irritation flooding you all over.

What the fuck?

Here you are pining over this guy and he's off kissing his ex?

Even their couple name is adorable. It fits. Your cheeks are flaming red at the realization that you fell for it. You fell for his lines, for his sweet eyes and sweeter mouth. You let yourself get swept up in a romance that isn't even real.

Dieter is an actor. He knows how to fake anything.

"I'm so fucking stupid," you say shaking your head. Bubble gives a gentle kick, drawing your attention back to the present.

“Sorry honey. Mom’s not stupid. Just fucking naive.”

It's dark when Dieter finally makes it home, shrugging of his jacket and toeing off his shoes. He wants to go to bed, to hold you after this long and boring day.

But you're not in bed. You're seated on the couch with the TV off. Your crossword book is beside you but you don't look like you've been working on it. Dieter feels a smile break out over his features at the sight of you in his home.

"Hi baby," he murmurs as he approaches, confused when you slowly turn to face him with a furious look on your face. "What’s wrong?"

“Have anything to tell me?”

“Uh…no?”

He watches you throw your head back and give an obviously false laugh. “No?”

“No.”

“Kiss any old girlfriends lately, Dieter?”

Dieter is stunned. How the hell did you find out about that? "How-"

"It's all over TMZ and now all the other news outlets," you say, teeth clenching. Dieter thinks about the way Mia checked around them before kissing him. You take a seat on the couch, arms crossed over your chest.

"I didn't just go kiss her," Dieter defends, coming to sit next to you. "She kissed me."

"Didn't really seem like you were fighting her on it."

You hold up your phone where the picture of Mia kissing Dieter is blown up. It's clear you've been studying the picture. Mia’s hand is on his collar, Dieter’s hand is on hers, but only so that he could pull it off. But to the outside viewer this looks very intimate.

“It’s not what it looks like.”

“No? Because what it looks like is you kissing your ex girlfriend.”

Dieter takes in the red of your cheeks and the way you’re clenching your jaw and despite everything a little thrill goes through him.

"Why are you so upset?" Dieter purrs.

"I'm not," you insist.

You feel furious and out of sorts and you can't tell him why because you'll sound like a jealous girlfriend which you absolutely aren't.

"You sound upset."

"Well I'm not." You chew at your bottom lip angrily. "It's just rude you know? Sleeping with me and seeing Mia. Does she-"

"I'm not seeing Mia," Dieter interjects.

"I have eyes Dieter," you scoff.

"She gave me a quick peck after we talked about Sam Heughan, her boyfriend, who she is in a committed relationship with."

"Yeah right."

Dieter stops a moment to take in your flushed cheeks, bright eyes and the arms that cross in front of you. You don’t want him to be seeing Mia and that can only mean one thing and that makes Dieter feel warm all over. His arm is on the back of the couch, almost behind your shoulders.

"You're jealous."

"I'm not," you insist, face heating.

"Then why are you acting like this?" He probes, shifting closer to you on the couch. "Tell me the truth."

He’s so close and he smells so good and you just fucking… you just…

"Because you're mine."

It comes spilling out of you like a dam, a rush, a torrent of words that once said cannot be taken back. But for once you don’t want them taken back. You want him to know exactly what you mean, especially as you launch yourself towards him, your arms going around his neck, your stomach plump between the two of you. Dieter is grinning so widely his face might crack as he gazes at you on his lap.

"I'm yours?"

"Yes," you all but growl, pushing him backwards until his broad shoulders hit the seat cushions of the couch and you begin straddling his prone body. His cock is rock hard through his pants, pressing into your core through your panties.

You tug them to the side, not even bothering to take them off. Dieter is already sliding off his pants and boxers, smiling up at you eagerly. He's pulsing between your thighs, hissing with pleasure as you notch him at your soaked entrance.

"Not hers," you grunt, sliding down his length with an aching groan escaping both of you. "No one else's. Just mine. You understand me, Bravo?"

You're staking your claim and Dieter is turned on out of his mind. You've never been possessive over him before, never been so commanding. Never been so clear in your desire for him.

"Yes!"

He wishes he could hold you in his arms, but being laid out flat on his couch while you ride him isn't exactly torture. Your pussy milks his cock, a vice -like grip around his thick length.

"I'm yours," Dieter repeats, thrusting up into your wet heat. "Just yours, baby."

"You only fuck me," you command, starting to bounce up and down in his lap the best you can with your swollen belly. His expression is pure delight, his wide palm on your hips.

"Yes."

"Only I make you c-come," you try to sound authoritative but your hips are rolling over his and he feels so good. You're barrelling towards an orgasm with every husky assurance from him.

"Only you," Dieter assures you, hands tightening around your gyrating hips. "And I only wanna make you come, baby. Only want you in my bed. Only you."

He's rambling and your eyes are cheating to the back of your head. You crest so fast, hands flying to the back of the couch so you can steady yourself. His hands slide up under your shirt and go to your breasts, pinching your pebbled nipples as you keen.

"C'mon baby," Dieter encourages as he watches your head tilt back. "Take what's yours."

"Mine," you pant as you start to come, head lolling forward. Your body starts to give small little twitches as you groan. "Mine, mine, mine."

"Yours," Dieter breathes, gazing up at you. "Only yours."

He feels you come, soaking his cock with your release. He groans at the sight of your fucked out expression, your hips still undulating.

"Now you," you command in a soft mewl. "Come for me, Dieter. Give my what's mine."

Your hands go to brace yourself on his chest, your hips lifting only to slide harshly back down, taking him as deep as possible. He feels a pleasurable stripe go up his spine.

"It's all yours," he offers before his own pleasure overtakes him at the sight of your heavy-lidded expression. He comes deep, deeper than he ever has and he does so whimpering your name.

You're both panting and you groan slightly as you pull yourself off of him, sitting back against the couch. Dieter rests there a few moments, his softened cock resting against his belly. He's smiling up at the ceiling like a madman.

Then he's stripping off all his clothes and standing before urging you to do the same.

"I'm fucking you in the shower," Dieter tells you as he pulls your t-shirt up over your head. "I want you to give me another one."

But you don't just give just him another one because it doesn't end in the shower. Or on the kitchen counter after a midnight snack. But in his bed where he urges you to the end of the bed and fucks you slowly standing next to the mattress, your thighs spread beautifully for him as his cock lazily saws in and out of you.

His hands grip your thighs tightly, urging you to bounce against his hips. Your bodies move together, the pleasure increasing.

“So good,” you croon, your forehead dotted with sweat. “You feel so perfect, Dieter.”

You’re babbling, high on the pleasure of his cock and his nearness. Dieter revels in it, the way you’re unabashedly giving him praise, the way you don’t stop him or shy away from him whispering sweet nothings into your neck.

“And I’m all yours,” he promises. You almost think you can read love in his eyes as they gaze down at you.

“I’m all yours,” you tell him back without thought.

His thrusts increase, his hands holding you tightly, fingers splayed over your clit. He teases and rubs until you’re on the brink of another orgasm and you finally come in tandem, both of you trembling.

“That’s my girl,” he groans, kissing behind your ear as you shiver.

You don’t tell him you’re not his girl because right now you feel like you could be.

You wake up the next morning in Dieter’s bed with one of his legs wedged in between yours, his arm draped over your middle and his forehead against your neck. It feels right and it feels perfect and as your sleep clears…A mixture of shame and disbelief overtakes your body.

What the fuck was that last night?

You'd been almost mad with rage at the sight of that TMZ pic. And when he'd come onto the couch you'd just felt this strange possessiveness overtake you.

Just want you in my bed. Only you.

Those words were so nice to hear. So gratifying. And you believed him about Mia and the photo. It had been all too easy to move past it, to allow him to lick into your mouth as he fucked you. You glance over your shoulder to see him sleeping, his hair falling into his closed eyes.

Mine.

No. Not mine.

He's not yours. He can't be.

He's Dieter Bravo and you're you. Thinking that somehow you could be together is a delusion. Dieter just hates being alone. And he knows that being a father is a huge deal. He knows that it's all going to rest on his shoulders and he's looking for a lifeline as your due date grows rapidly closer.

He doesn't actually have feelings for you.

It's just that Mia might be out of the picture and he's clinging to whatever is in the vicinity - today it happens to be you. Tomorrow it'll be whatever model he's paired with at the next photo shoot.

You've known him long enough to know his moods and his ever changing interests. In a couple of months when the baby is here and you're in Sacramento he'll probably have forgotten your name.

The thought hurts if you linger on it. He's just clinging to a lifeline and you can't be around when he does inevitably move onto the next woman because it'll break your heart.

You need to get the apartment now. You need to find out where you're going to be staying next semester. You need to be planning your life post birth.

He didn’t even write back to your text yesterday even though it said he’d read it. The one asking if you could stay longer, that you were considering postponing school. And you know why – because this wasn’t the plan. Because Dieter’s interest is waning and you know it.

You pull yourself from the bed, out of Dieter’s warm arms and you try your best not to look back at his still sleeping form as you tiptoe out of the room.

You return sometime in the afternoon to Dieter storming around the kitchen, looking frantic. He barrels towards you, tugging your hands that you quickly slide out of his grip.

“Why didn’t you answer your phone?"

“I had it on silent.”

"Where were you?"

"I was at the library," you say as if it were the most obvious answer. Dieter looks like he’s been fisting his hands through his hair all day.

"You're not supposed-"

"I know I’m not supposed to leave, but I wore sunglasses and no one recognized me." You put your purse down on the ground. "I just needed somewhere quiet to organize my thoughts. I needed to research apartments without distractions."

"Apartments," Dieter repeats slowly.

"Yeah, for next semester," You say breezily as you push past him and make your way into the kitchen. He follows hot on your heels like a desperate puppy all big eyes and furrowed brows.

"Next semester? I thought you were thinking of postponing?"

He watches you glance around in the fridge before pulling out a bowl of blueberries that Petra has left for you.

"No point," you say, popping one in your mouth. "I decided I need to get focused and start as soon as possible. That reminds me though; I don't think I can really stay long after the baby is born. I'll want to get to Sacramento as soon as possible."

Dieter looks as if you've punched him. He's gone pale, his large eyes luminous. He's sagging against the counter as if his own body can't support him anymore.

"What? Why?"

"I told you, I need to focus," you tell him, popping the blueberries back into the fridge. "And I know that I don't get paid until the Bubble is born but I'm wondering if I can get half now? I need to put a down payment on an apartment out there."

"You're buying an apartment in Sacramento?"

"Of course," you say, taking a deep breath. "I'll be in school for a few years; the rest of my Masters then the PhD, then my residency out there. Makes sense."

"But ... You weren’t even sure about it," Dieter says weakly.

"That was before I really thought about it," You say, shrugging. "I can't sit around my boss's house all day organizing his next manicure and making sure his latest fuck buddies sign NDA's."

Dieter straightens immediately, his jaw clenching.

Too far.

As soon as you say it you wish you could take it back. It's an ugly, unfair thing to say and you both know it. But you feel exposed, like a raw nerve.

Dieter feels everything inside him twisting hideously. He was so fucking deluded to think you'd stay, to think you'd fallen for him the same way he has for you. He wants to scream at his idiocy.

How are you just so okay with this? How can you walk away like the last several months have meant nothing?

Dieter can only stare at you, his eyes going from wide to narrowed. His hand curls into a loose fist at his side, the other still braced on the counter.

“There's a contract," Dieter all but growls. "You get your money once the baby is born."

"I know,” you say quickly. “It's just that the tuition is due this month to hold my spot for next semester."

"That's not my problem."

You take a step back, brows knitted. You weren’t expecting that.

“But-“

"You signed a contract stipulating that you wouldn't get the money until the baby is born," Dieter croaks. "So there's your answer."

He turns from you, heading down the hallway to his art studio. You follow close behind, waddling quickly to keep up.

"Dieter I can't afford the place without that money."

"Read the contract," he snaps. "You signed it."

He quickly moves into the studio, slamming the door behind him.

He hears you on the other side of the door, breathing heavily. He’s worried you’re crying.

Finally he hears you shuffle away and he moves to the window, sitting in the chair he reserved for you when you return home with your son. He imagined painting both of you, the light bathing you both in a dreamy glow.

Dieter is devastated, his head resting heavily in his hands as he fights back the urge to sob.

What the fuck happened? One minute you were insisting he was yours, your bodies working together beautifully. The next second you're telling him you're halfway out the door.

You don’t want to be a mother. You never did. You always made that perfectly clear. He was just too besotted to understand. He looks around his art room, feeling a fury building within him. What the fuck has this all been for? Why the fuck is he so fucking stupid? Why did he have to go and fall in love with you?

He needs drugs. He needs alcohol. He needs something to take this stabbing pain away. And just as his trembling hand goes to his phone to call up Corey Brigham he glances up at the painting he's been currently working on.

It's an oil painting image from a dream he had recently. One where he stands in the ocean up to his knees, the wind gentle and the day mild. Dieter is holding you back against him, his head over your shoulder, both of you gazing down at the tiny infant in your arms.

And there's his son, eyes closed, a soft smile on his face. The image of what Dieter things he’ll look like.

My son.

The cell phone is pushed back into his pocket. He's not living just for himself anymore. He's got a son he will put before himself in all ways. His son will not grow up with an absent father like Dieter did.

All of a sudden his studio door bursts open. You look harried as you stride in, fixing him with a glare. He knows you want to tell him off and he wishes you didn't look so beautiful when you’re angry.

"You're not supposed to be in here," Dieter insists, feeling a stab of anxiety go through him as you walk towards him. He leaps up from the chair, almost tripping over himself in his desire to usher you out of the room.

“We were in the middle of a conversation,” you snap. “You can’t just-“

Your cutting remarks die before they can be completely formed because as you glance around the room your eyes widen in shock.

Dieter’s art room has always been a mix of canvas, paint spills, old coffee cups and grotesque sculptures. But right now all of the painted canvases are positioned around the room, sketches lining the drafting table under the window.

And they are all of you.

Ones of you with your belly swollen, sleeping on the couch. Others of you cross legged at the table hunched over your laptop. There's one of you with your face serene as you lay the bathtub, that night Dieter and you talked for hours. Snapshots of time, your belly at different stages.

"Are these..." You go over to a stack of sketches. “Are these all me?”

Dieter is silent, his eyes drifting to your face when you take in the portrait he did of the three of you. Your hand goes to your belly instinctively as you take in the image.

“I always imagined he’d look like that,” you say with a soft little huff.

Your eyes go to the drafting table, sketches in charcoal sticking out to you. Some are dated as far back as Ireland, some even before that. Your fingers linger on one in particular of you chewing your bottom lip in thought, a pencil raised between your fingers. You glance at the date.

“This was before I was pregnant.” You trail off, gaze moving back to his face. "How long have you been sketching me?"

Dieter shrugs and for the first time since you've known him he looks truly embarrassed.

"A while."

You move slowly towards him. "Why?"

He sighs, only steps away from you now.

"Isn't it obvious?"

You swallow, feeling your heart pound a devastating rhythm. No, this can’t be real. He can’t be suggesting what you think he is. And yet as he stands there, dark eyes wet you can’t help but wish for it to be real.

“I'm crazy about you,” Dieter confesses.

No, not confesses. That would suggest he wanted to keep it hidden, when it’s anything but.

“I just want to be with you all the time. I want to share everything with you. My life, my home, my everything. I want you here in this house with our son. I want to support you going back to school. I want to make you happy in any way I can but I want you to do it as mine.”

You want to say something, to say anything to this grand romantic speech, but your throat has tightened and your mouth gone dry. All you can do is stand there, staring at him like a pregnant idiot.

“And I know that’s selfish to say and I know it’s useless because you don’t love me back but I-I just needed you to know before you left,” Dieter continues, tears wetting the side of his cheek.

“You don’t need to love me back. Our son is a piece of you and if that’s all I can have of your love, that’s enough for me. He’s more than enough. I just. . . I needed you to know the truth, all of it. I fell for you way before you got pregnant, but after this time together I just, I’m...I love you.”

And now his tears are brushed away by the back of his hand and he looks as if he’s going to turn away from you, overcome with everything that he’s just admitted.

You can barely see through the tears in your eyes. All the feelings that have been swirling within you compel you to pitch forward, your hands outstretched, his name on your lips.

You’re about to cross the room, desperate for his touch when a stab of pain goes through you sharply, causing you to almost come to your knees. You begin doubling over with a cry as Dieter runs to close the distance between you, his hand immediately on your back.

“What is it, baby?”

Dieter is confused when he sees an overwhelming amount of clear liquid running down your legs. Your eyes are round, wide and terrified when you look up to him.

"Dieter, I think I'm going into labor."

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