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muiitoloko · 1 day

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For Sinclair what if the reader is vulnerable and insecure because she’s not from the same world of him and feel inferior because she didn’t go to university and has a life pretty boring and chaotic (like unemployment and thing like that) and as he his someone important and relatively powerful from the upper class she’s afraid of him will finally get rid of her because she wrongly thinks she’s not enough ?

Title: In the Eyes of the Beholder

Summary: In his eyes you were everything.

Pairing: Sinclair Bryant × Fem!Reader

Warning: Smut

Author's Notes: Alright, folks, let's address the elephant in the room—I'll admit, this might not be my shining moment in the world of writing. Blame it on the pesky little gremlin known as writer's block. As usual, though, I'm all ears for any feedback you've got!

As you sat across from Sinclair in the cozy café where you first met, your mind was consumed by a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. You didn't know why, of all people, Sinclair chose you. He was everything you weren't - beautiful, wealthy, and intelligent. You, on the other hand, were just a simple waitress who hadn't even attended college.

Sinclair had a charm about him that was impossible to resist. Like a human golden retriever, he exuded warmth and affection, his infectious enthusiasm drawing you in from the moment you first met. He would come to the café regularly, striking up conversations with you that ranged from the mundane to the profound. It quickly became apparent that he loved to talk, and you found yourself captivated by his every word.

Despite your initial reservations, you couldn't help but be drawn to Sinclair. His kindness and genuine affection for you melted away your doubts, and before you knew it, you were swept up in a whirlwind romance.

But as your relationship with Sinclair blossomed, so too did your feelings of guilt and inadequacy. You couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he deserved someone better than you. He had everything - a successful career, wealth, and a bright future ahead of him. You, on the other hand, struggled to make ends meet, living paycheck to paycheck in a small apartment.

You felt out of place in Sinclair's world, like an imposter pretending to belong. The stark contrast between his life of privilege and your humble existence only served to highlight your insecurities.

Yet, despite your fears and doubts, you couldn't bring yourself to let go of Sinclair. His love and affection filled a void within you that you never knew existed, and the thought of losing him was unbearable.

But beneath the surface, a nagging fear lingered - the fear that one day, Sinclair would realize that he could do better than you. That he would tire of your shortcomings and leave you behind, casting you aside like a forgotten relic of his past.

As you sat in the café, lost in your thoughts, Sinclair reached across the table and took your hand in his. His touch was warm and reassuring, a silent reminder that you weren't alone in your fears.

"Is everything alright, darling?" he asked, his voice soft and concerned.

You forced a smile, pushing aside your doubts for the moment. "Yes, everything's fine," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

But deep down, you knew that the shadows of doubt and insecurity would continue to haunt you until you found the courage to confront them head-on. Until then, you could only hold onto Sinclair's hand and hope that his love would be enough to see you through the storm.

As a customer walked through the café door, you quickly got up, slipping into work mode with practiced ease. Sinclair watched you go, a fond smile gracing his lips as he admired your efficiency and grace. He checked his wristwatch, noting that your shift would end soon, and he could finally take you to your apartment.

Settling back in his seat, Sinclair leafed through the magazine he had brought with him, his curiosity piqued by the articles within. He commented to himself about the interesting tidbits he found, his voice a constant hum of chatter that filled the quiet space of the café. He was never one to stay quiet for long, his enthusiasm for conversation infectious and endearing.

Lost in the pages of the magazine, Sinclair didn't even notice the hours passing by. He was thoroughly entertained, engrossed in the world of fashion and style until you interrupted him, now dressed in your normal clothes as your shift had ended.

Sinclair nodded, standing up eagerly as you approached, showing you the magazine with a child-like excitement. "Look at this, darling," he exclaimed, pointing to a particularly captivating article. "It's all about the latest trends in fashion. Isn't it fascinating?

You chuckled softly, amused by Sinclair's enthusiasm for fashion magazines. "I didn't know you were into reading about fashion," you remarked, teasing him gently as you walked outside together.

Sinclair shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes as he replied, "Oh, I just like reading all kinds of things. Fashion, technology, literature... you name it."

You couldn't help but tease him further, poking him playfully in the side. "So, does that mean you enjoy reading porn magazines too?" you quipped, a mischievous grin spreading across your face.

Sinclair was quiet for the first time, looking at the fashion magazine in his hand with more interest than usual. You observed him, amused by the sudden shift in his demeanor, and couldn't help but notice his ears turning red, a sure sign that he was blushing.

With a good-natured laugh, you teased him. "How many Playboys do you have at home, Clair?" you joked, your playful tone bringing a smile to his face.

Sinclair protested, his voice tinged with embarrassment. "I'm not a pervert, darling," he protested, holding up the magazine defensively. "They're not Playboys, they're scientific journals discussing... um, intimate topics and different sexual positions."

You couldn't contain your laughter, the image of Sinclair with such magazines seeming utterly incongruous with his kind soul. Opening the door to your apartment, you ushered Sinclair inside before following him in.

As you settled into your cozy living space, you couldn't help but marvel at the complexity of Sinclair's character. He was a millionaire futurologist, a man of intellect and curiosity, yet there was a childlike innocence to him that never failed to charm you.

As Sinclair settled down on the couch next to you, you couldn't help but feel a surge of affection toward him. Pulling him close, you nestled into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. You couldn't shake the curiosity about why he didn't share all the things he learned in those articles about sex, but you decided to let it slide for the moment.

Sinclair, sensing your closeness, nodded in agreement, his brown eyes meeting yours with a hint of uncertainty. "Can I kiss you?" he asked softly, his voice tinged with a mix of anticipation and nervousness.

You caressed his cheek tenderly, a gentle smile playing on your lips. It was a question he had asked countless times before, a testament to his respect for your boundaries and his genuine desire to make sure you were comfortable.

"You don't have to ask, Sinclair," you whispered, your voice filled with reassurance. "You know you can kiss me whenever you want."

With a relieved smile, Sinclair leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a tender, loving kiss. It was a familiar sensation, yet it never failed to send shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you that only he could quell.

As the kiss deepened, Sinclair's hands began to explore your body, his touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. He caressed you slowly, his movements gentle and deliberate, as if savoring every moment with you.

Feeling emboldened by the intensity of the moment, you took control, straddling Sinclair as you deepened the kiss. Your hands roamed freely over his body, tracing the contours of his frame as you lost yourself in the heat of the moment.

Sinclair responded eagerly, his hands roaming over your body with a newfound sense of urgency. It was a dance of passion and desire, a symphony of love and longing that transcended words.

As the kiss finally broke, you rested your forehead against Sinclair's, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you gazed into his eyes. With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you slid your hand under his shirt, feeling the softness of his skin beneath your fingertips. Sinclair's chest rose and fell with each breath, a rhythm that matched the quickening pace of your own heartbeat.

Feeling the few scattered hairs on his chest, you trailed your fingers lightly, sending shivers of anticipation coursing through his body. Sinclair let out a soft moan of pleasure, his grip on you tightening as he reveled in the sensation of your touch.

With a newfound boldness, you tugged at Sinclair's shirt, the fabric clinging to his skin as you peeled it away. Sinclair offered no resistance, his eyes dark with desire as he watched you with a hunger that matched your own.

As his shirt fell to the floor, you wasted no time in exploring his bare chest, pressing kisses along the expanse of his skin. Each touch elicited a gasp of pleasure from Sinclair, his hands roaming over your body in search of more.

But just as you were lost in the heat of the moment, Sinclair gently stopped you, his voice low and husky with desire. "Can I take control this time, darling?" he murmured, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered his request.

A wicked grin spread across your lips as you nodded in agreement, eager to see what Sinclair had in store. "Of course, Clair," you replied, your voice thick with anticipation. "I'm all yours."

With a confident smile, Sinclair stood up, his eyes filled with a hunger that mirrored your own. You eagerly clung to him, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried you to your bedroom. Each step was deliberate, as if he were savoring the anticipation of what was to come.

Gently placing you on the bed, Sinclair's hands moved with purpose as he began to undress you. With practiced ease, he unbuttoned your blouse, revealing the lacy bra underneath. His touch was electric, sending shivers of anticipation coursing through your body as he trailed his fingers along your skin.

Moving on to your jeans, Sinclair helped you slide them off, his gaze never leaving yours. You felt exposed, vulnerable, yet strangely exhilarated by his intense gaze. As you lay there in just your bra and panties, you couldn't help but feel self-conscious, the mismatched lingerie a stark reminder of your insecurities.

But as Sinclair looked at you, his eyes filled with adoration and desire, all your doubts faded away. In his eyes, you were a goddess, a vision of beauty and perfection that left him breathless.

As he leaned in to kiss you, his lips soft and hungry against yours, you felt a surge of desire coursing through your veins. Sinclair's hands trailed along the waistband of your panties, teasing and tantalizing as he explored every inch of your body with a hunger that matched your own.

With each touch, each kiss, you lost yourself in the heat of the moment, the world around you fading away as Sinclair ignited a fire within you that burned hotter than the sun. In that moment, there was only the two of you, lost in a symphony of passion and desire that knew no bounds.

As Sinclair whispered sweet nothings in your ear, his voice husky with desire, you surrendered yourself to him completely, knowing that in his arms, you were safe, cherished, and loved beyond measure.

"You know, darling," Sinclair began, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine, "I've always been fascinated by the intricacies of human desire and sexuality."

You couldn't help but chuckle at his typical segue into another of his rambling conversations. "Oh? And what exactly have you discovered in your studies?" you asked, a playful glint in your eyes as you indulged him.

Sinclair's grin widened, his excitement palpable as he launched into his explanation. "Well, you see, it's all about the psychology of desire, the interplay of hormones and neurotransmitters, and the myriad ways in which humans express their carnal instincts."

You listened intently, amused by Sinclair's earnest enthusiasm for the topic. "And where did you learn all of this?" you asked, genuinely curious about the source of his knowledge.

With a proud grin, Sinclair confessed, "From my extensive collection of sex magazines, of course!"

You couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head in amusement as Sinclair continued to ramble on about the intricacies of human desire and sexuality. His enthusiasm was endearing, if not a little overwhelming at times. As you reached to undo his belt, Sinclair's voice faltered for a moment, his attention momentarily diverted by your playful actions.

With a playful grin, you teased him, "I think I'll have to conduct my own research to verify your findings, Mr. Bryant. "

Sinclair chuckled, his fingers fumbling with the clasp of your bra as he tried to keep up with your teasing banter. Finally managing to undo it, he watched with a mixture of awe and desire as you slipped out of the straps, revealing your breasts to him.

His brown eyes darkened with desire as he took in the sight before him, his breath catching in his throat. For a moment, he was speechless, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts and emotions.

But then, with a hungry look in his eyes, Sinclair finally fell silent as he leaned in to take one of your nipples in his mouth. You gasped in pleasure, arching your back as he suckled gently, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

Moaning softly, you tangled your fingers in his blond hair, urging him closer as he lavished attention on your sensitive flesh. Sinclair's touch was electric, igniting a fire within you that burned hotter with each passing moment.

As Sinclair lavished attention on your sensitive flesh, his touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body, you couldn't help but moan softly, your breath hitching with each flick of his tongue. His blond hair tickled your skin as he continued his ministrations, his mouth hot against your skin, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

Feeling emboldened by the intensity of the moment, you let out a low whimper, your fingers digging into Sinclair's scalp as you urged him closer. His baritone voice whispered sinful promises against your skin, sending shivers of anticipation coursing through your veins.

As Sinclair's hands roamed over your body, his touch ignited a fire within you that burned hotter with each passing moment. You arched your back, pressing your body closer to his, desperate for more of his intoxicating touch.

With a hunger that matched your own, Sinclair explored every inch of your body, his lips trailing down your torso as he worshipped you with a reverence that left you breathless. Each kiss, each caress, sent bolts of pleasure racing through you, building the tension to an unbearable crescendo.

As his lips closed around your other nipple, sucking and teasing with expert precision, you couldn't hold back the moan that escaped your lips. Sinclair's touch was electrifying, igniting a fire within you that threatened to consume you whole.

With trembling hands, you reached for the waistband of his pants, eager to return the favor and drive him to the brink of ecstasy. As you teased the fabric, Sinclair let out a low growl of desire, his hips bucking against your touch as he urged you on.

With a wicked grin, you slipped your hand beneath his boxers, feeling the hardness of his arousal against your palm. Sinclair gasped in pleasure, his breath hot against your skin as you stroked him slowly, savoring the feel of him in your hand.

But Sinclair held your wrist gently, his touch a silent plea for you to pause. As he stood up, he released your hand and began to remove his pants and underwear, kicking them aside with practiced ease. You followed suit, shedding your underwear and tossing them aside as Sinclair returned to the bed, his gaze never leaving yours.

Settling back onto the bed, Sinclair reached for you, pulling you close as he began to speak. His voice was a soothing rumble, a comforting presence in the midst of your swirling emotions.

"Thank you for being with me, darling," he began, his voice soft and sincere. "I don't know what I would do without you. You mean everything to me."

Confusion clouded your thoughts as you listened to his words. How could he be thanking you? You were nothing compared to him, a simple waitress with nothing to offer but your love.

Sinclair must have sensed your turmoil, for he reached out to gently wipe away the tears that streamed down your cheeks. "You are everything to me," he murmured, his voice laced with tenderness. "You've given me something I never thought I would find – true love."

His words struck you to the core, a wave of emotion washing over you as you struggled to comprehend the depth of his feelings. How could someone like Sinclair, with all his charm and intelligence, consider himself lucky to have you?

"I don't understand," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "I don't deserve you, Sinclair."

But Sinclair shook his head, his eyes filled with conviction as he spoke. "No, darling, it's the other way around. I finally found someone who loves me for who I am, not for what I have."

Tears continued to flow freely down your cheeks as you listened to his heartfelt words. In that moment, you felt overwhelmed by the magnitude of his love, humbled by his unwavering devotion to you.

Sinclair reached out to cup your face in his hands, his touch gentle and reassuring. "Please don't cry, my love," he pleaded, his voice thick with emotion. "You are everything to me, and I am grateful for every moment we share together."

His words were like a balm to your wounded soul, soothing the doubts and insecurities that had plagued you for so long. In Sinclair's arms, you felt safe, cherished, and loved beyond measure.

With a trembling smile, you leaned in to kiss him, pouring all your love and gratitude into the tender gesture. In that moment, there were no doubts, no fears – only the overwhelming certainty that you were exactly where you were meant to be, in the arms of the man who loved you more than life itself.

#sinclair bryant x reader #alan rickman #sinclair bryant #close my eyes #alan rickman x reader

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muiitoloko · 3 days

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Sorryy I completely forgot to specify 😭 Harry from Love Actually 🫶🏻 thank you btw 🫶🏻

Title: Inappropriate

Summary: You were his secretary, he was your boss, and yet, in that moment, none of it mattered

Pairing: Harry (love actually) × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Boss-secretary relationship, masturbation, pervert and smut.

Author's Notes: Well, here we go again! Thanks for throwing this request my way. Gotta admit, I had a similar draft collecting dust in the corners of my brain, but with a totally different character. So, I had to do some serious rewriting. Hopefully, what I've cooked up here hits the spot for you, but fair warning: I might've made Harry a tad bit pervy in this one! 😅 As always, feedback is welcome and highly encouraged!

Anon's request here

As you stepped into the elevator with Harry, your stomach churned with guilt, the memory of your mistake weighing heavily on your mind. You apologized profusely once again, but Harry ignored it, sighing irritably as he waved off your concerns.

"It's fine, really," he muttered, his voice tinged with irritation, "just forget about it."

But you couldn't forget about it, not when the consequences of your error were staring you in the face. Deep down, you knew it wasn't entirely your fault. You were sure you had booked two hotel rooms for the conference in New York, but somehow, there had been a mix-up, leaving you and Harry stuck with only one room.

As the elevator doors closed behind you, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease settling over you. It was like something out of a cheesy romantic movie or one of those fanfics you read late at night in bed. Except, instead of swooning over your attractive boss, you were stuck in an awkward situation with a man who seemed to see you as nothing more than his secretary.

Harry stood beside you, his tall frame towering over yours, his hooked nose and glasses giving him an air of sophistication that only added to his allure. Despite your best efforts to focus on the task at hand, you couldn't help but steal glances at him when he wasn't looking, marveling at the way his tailored suit accentuated his broad shoulders and chiseled jawline.

But as attractive as Harry was, there was a tension between you that made it difficult to enjoy his company. Sometimes, you got the impression that he despised you with how much he avoided talking to you since he hired you. It was like he couldn't stand being in the same room as you, let alone having to share a hotel room for the duration of the conference.

As the elevator ascended to the room, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at the pit of your stomach. You had hoped that the conference in New York would be an opportunity to prove yourself to Harry, to show him that you were capable of more than just fetching his coffee and filing his paperwork.

But now, all you could think about was how to navigate the awkwardness of sharing a hotel room with your boss, a man who seemed to barely tolerate your presence. You dreaded the thought of spending the next few days in such close quarters with him, the tension between you only adding to the discomfort of the situation.

And as the elevator ascended to the designated floor, Harry kept his gaze fixed on the blinking numbers, his mind swirling with conflicting thoughts and emotions. He felt a mixture of frustration, attraction, and guilt, all bubbling beneath the surface as he tried to maintain his composure in front of you.

The memory of your mistake and the awkwardness of the situation weighed heavily on Harry's mind, but beneath it all, there was a deeper undercurrent of attraction that he couldn't deny. Despite his best efforts to push it aside, he couldn't shake the magnetic pull he felt towards you, his secretary.

As the elevator doors opened and Harry stepped out into the hallway, pulling his suitcase behind him, he couldn't help but steal a glance at you standing beside him. You looked nervous and guilty, your eyes darting around anxiously as you followed him closely.

Opening the door to the hotel room, Harry felt a wave of relief wash over him as he saw the sofa positioned beside the bed. It looked comfortable enough to sleep on, but before he could offer to take the sofa, you spoke up, volunteering to sleep on the couch without hesitation.

Harry hesitated for a moment, torn between his desire to be a gentleman and his own selfish desires. But ultimately, he saw no reason to oppose you if that was what you wanted. With a nod of acquiescence, he stepped aside, allowing you to make yourself comfortable on the couch.

As you sat down, working to take off your heels, Harry found himself unable to tear his gaze away from you. He watched as you exposed your legs in that pencil skirt, the fabric clinging perfectly to your shape, and he couldn't help but feel a surge of desire coursing through him.

Damn, why did you have to be so beautiful? Harry shook his head, forcing himself to look away before he did something he regretted. "Well, um, I guess we should both try to get some rest from the Jet Lag," he said awkwardly, attempting to break the tension that hung between them.

You nodded in agreement, looking at him with a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty. "Yes, that sounds like a good idea," you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Harry cleared his throat, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on him. "I'll, uh, take a shower before bed," he stated, his tone a little more confident now, "and then you can have your turn after me."

You nodded again, offering him a small smile. "Sounds like a plan," you said, your voice tinged with relief.

With that, Harry retreated into the bathroom, closing the door behind him with a sigh of relief. Alone at last, he leaned against the cool tile, his mind swimming with a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

As the hot water cascaded over him, Harry couldn't help but replay the events of the evening in his mind. He knew he shouldn't be feeling this way about you, his secretary, but try as he might, he couldn't deny the attraction that burned within him.

With a frustrated growl, Harry shook his head, determined to push aside his desires and focus on the task at hand. But deep down, he knew that the night ahead would be anything but restful, as he struggled to resist the pull of temptation that threatened to consume him.

As Harry emerged from the bathroom, clad in comfortable pajamas, he found you waiting patiently outside, ready to take your turn. You exchanged a brief nod before you disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Harry alone in the dimly lit hotel room.

With a tired sigh, Harry made his way to the bed, feeling the weight of jet lag settling heavily on his shoulders. He crawled beneath the covers, sinking into the plush mattress with a grateful sigh. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, the bed felt like a sanctuary after a long day of travel.

As Harry drifted off to sleep, his mind still swirling with thoughts of you, he found himself succumbing to the sweet embrace of slumber. It didn't take long for exhaustion to claim him, pulling him into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Hours passed in blissful silence, the only sound in the room the soft hum of the air conditioning. And then, slowly, you emerged from the bathroom, your eyes heavy with sleep as you made your way to the sofa.

But as you settled down on the beautiful but uncomfortable sofa, you couldn't shake the nagging feeling of regret that gnawed at the back of your mind. You cursed yourself for offering to sleep on the couch, knowing now how much you would come to regret it.

As you tossed and turned, trying in vain to find a comfortable position, you couldn't help but envy Harry, sleeping soundly in the bed just a few feet away. It wasn't fair that he got to enjoy the comfort of the mattress while you were stuck on the sofa, feeling every lump and bump beneath you.

You sighed heavily, resigning yourself to the uncomfortable reality of the situation. Life wasn't like the movies, you realized, and sometimes you just had to make the best of a bad situation.

With a weary sigh, you closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep, the gentle rhythm of your breathing gradually slowing as exhaustion claimed you. Hours passed in blissful silence, the darkness of night enveloping the room in a peaceful embrace.

But then, slowly, you began to stir, your dreams giving way to the hazy fog of consciousness. As you blinked sleepily, trying to make sense of your surroundings, you were surprised to find yourself lying in bed, the soft warmth of the covers cocooning you in comfort.

Confusion clouded your mind as you glanced around the room, trying to piece together how you had ended up in the bed. Your gaze landed on Harry's sleeping form beside you, his features softened by slumber, and you hesitated, unsure of what to do next.

With a hesitant hand, you reached out and lightly poked his shoulder, calling his name in a soft whisper. Harry grumbled sleepily, his baritone voice thick with drowsiness as he questioned what was wrong.

You furrowed your brow, your confusion deepening as you struggled to comprehend the situation. "Harry, how did I end up in the bed?" you asked, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

Harry sighed tiredly, turning to face you with a sleepy gaze. "You were tossing and turning on the sofa," he explained, his voice a low murmur, "and I thought you'd be more comfortable here. It's a king-size bed, plenty of room for both of us."

You felt a blush creeping up your cheeks at his words, the intimacy of the situation not lost on you. This was highly inappropriate, you realized, and yet, there was a strange comfort in being nestled beside him, sharing the warmth of the bed.

With a grateful nod, you settled back against the pillows, feeling a sense of peace wash over you as you closed your eyes and let sleep claim you once more.

The next morning, you awoke to the soft chime of the alarm, the sound jolting you from your slumber. Blinking sleepily, you sat up in bed, stretching your limbs as you tried to shake off the remnants of sleep.

Harry stirred beside you, his gaze bleary as he reached out to silence the alarm. "Good morning," he mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep.

"Morning," you replied, offering him a small smile. "Thanks for letting me sleep in the bed last night. That was really kind of you."

Harry shrugged nonchalantly, his gaze flickering away. "It was no trouble," he muttered, avoiding your eyes. "Besides, it's not like either of us got much sleep anyway."

You nodded in understanding, the events of the previous night still fresh in your mind. "So, what's the plan for today?" you asked, trying to change the subject.

Harry glanced at his watch, his expression thoughtful. "Well, we have breakfast downstairs at 7:30, followed by the first session of the conference at 9:00," he explained, his tone businesslike.

You nodded in agreement, mentally noting the schedule. "Sounds good," you replied, swinging your legs out of bed and reaching for your suitcase.

As you both got ready for the day ahead, the awkwardness of the previous night lingering in the air between you, you couldn't help but wonder what the rest of the conference had in store. But for now, you pushed aside your doubts and uncertainties, focusing instead on the task at hand.

The rest of the day went smoothly, with you buried in work tasks until lunchtime. However, once you and Harry sat down for lunch, he surprised you by giving you the rest of the day off to explore the city on your own.

Thrilled by the opportunity to discover New York, you eagerly accepted Harry's offer, thanking him profusely before setting off to immerse yourself in the vibrant energy of the city. Harry, on the other hand, opted to stay behind, citing a need for some extra rest after the long flight.

As you navigated the bustling streets of New York, your senses were overwhelmed by the sights, sounds, and smells of the city. From the towering skyscrapers to the eclectic street vendors, every corner seemed to offer a new adventure waiting to be discovered.

With Harry's encouragement ringing in your ears, you set off to explore the iconic landmarks and hidden gems of New York. From Central Park to Times Square, you marveled at the city's rich history and vibrant culture, snapping photos and collecting souvenirs along the way.

Meanwhile, Harry returned to the hotel room, feeling a sense of relief wash over him as he collapsed onto the plush bed. With a tired sigh, he kicked off his glasses, placing them on the bedside table before burying his face in the soft pillows.

But as he inhaled deeply, the familiar scent of you lingered in the air, filling his senses with an intoxicating mix of desire and frustration. He cursed himself for allowing his thoughts to stray to you, his secretary, when he should be focusing on more important matters.

With a frustrated growl, Harry pushed aside the tempting thoughts that threatened to consume him, reminding himself of the boundaries that he had sworn to uphold. But despite his best efforts, he couldn't shake the memory of your presence beside him, your warmth seeping into the very fabric of the pillows.

Closing his eyes, Harry tried to clear his mind of you, but your smell on the pillows tormented him, that sweet scent that drove him crazy because he couldn't identify it. Was it jasmine? He didn't know, he would only know if he felt it up close, maybe burying his nose in the crook of your neck. The thought sent a shiver down his spine, and Harry groaned in frustration, feeling the desire stir inside him.

Turning away from the bed, Harry sat down heavily on the edge, unbuttoning his shirt with trembling fingers. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath, cursing himself for allowing his thoughts to wander into dangerous territory. It was just a perfume, he reminded himself, nothing more. He shouldn't get excited; it was inappropriate. You were his secretary, damn it!

As he abandoned the buttons on his shirt and kicked off his shoes, Harry's frustration grew, manifesting in careless actions. Without meaning to, he flung one of his shoes aside, narrowly missing your travel laundry bag on the sofa. With a curse, he watched as the bag fell to the floor, spilling its contents in a messy heap.

"Shit," Harry muttered, scrambling to gather up your belongings and shove them back into the bag. But as he reached for a lacy black bra and matching panties, his hands hesitated mid-air. Was that what you wore last night? The thought sent a jolt of electricity through him, his heart pounding in his chest as he held the delicate lingerie in his hands.

With a shaky breath, Harry swallowed hard, his resolve wavering as temptation beckoned. He knew it was wrong, that he shouldn't be doing this, but the allure of your scent was too powerful to resist. Convincing himself that you wouldn't be back anytime soon, he succumbed to his desires, letting curiosity and excitement guide his actions.

Carefully unclasping your bra, Harry's pulse quickened as he held it up, admiring the delicate lace and imagining the softness of your skin against his fingertips. And when he reached for your panties, he couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation coursing through him.

It was inappropriate, he knew, but in that moment, all Harry could think about was the intoxicating thrill of indulging in forbidden desires. With trembling hands, he pressed your panties against his nose, inhaling deeply as he surrendered himself to the heady rush of arousal.

He felt like a fucking pervert, but he couldn't bring himself to care, not when the excitement was taking over his mind, blinding him to everything else. With each breath, he drank in your scent, his imagination running wild with fantasies of what could be.

And as Harry held your panties against his nose, inhaling deeply, he felt a surge of desire coursing through him, his cock straining in his pants, begging for release. It had been a long time since he had indulged in such forbidden pleasures, and now, with the opportunity tantalizingly within reach, he found it impossible to resist.

With a shaky breath, Harry rose from the floor, still clutching your underwear in his hand. His heart pounded in his chest as he moved with purpose, undoing his belt and pants with trembling fingers. As he stroked himself through his underwear, he couldn't help but imagine you here with him, begging for him, your small hand replacing his big one, your touch igniting a fire within him that threatened to consume him whole.

Harry crawled onto the bed, still clutching your panties in his hand. He couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that gnawed at the pit of his stomach. What was he doing? This was wrong on so many levels, and yet, he couldn't bring himself to stop.

With a shaky breath, Harry took off his shirt and underwear, throwing them aside in a careless heap. He lay back on the bed, the softness of the mattress enveloping him in comfort as he held your panties against his nose once more.

Closing his eyes, Harry inhaled deeply, letting your scent wash over him like a tidal wave of desire. He caressed his chest with his free hand, tracing lazy circles over his skin as he slowly went down, creating the mood while indulging in the intoxicating aroma of your underwear.

With each breath, Harry's imagination ran wild, conjuring up vivid fantasies of you here with him, your touch igniting a fire within him that threatened to consume him whole. He imagined you straddling him, your soft curves pressed against his chest as you rode him with fervor, your moans of pleasure echoing in his ears like a sweet symphony.

"Oh, fuck," Harry groaned, his voice thick with desire as he imagined your pussy wrapped around him, hot and tight, squeezing him with every thrust. He could almost feel the heat of you, the slickness of your arousal coating his cock as you rode him hard and fast, driving him to the brink of ecstasy.

With a shaky breath, Harry pressed the panties against his nose once more, his fingers trembling as he imagined your moans of pleasure, your breathless gasps mingling with his own. "God, I want you," he whispered, his voice a low, guttural rasp of desire. "I want to feel you, taste you, fuck you until you're screaming my name."

As Harry continued to indulge in his forbidden fantasies, his arousal grew with each passing moment, his cock throbbing with need as he surrendered himself to the intoxicating allure of you. He knew it was wrong, that he shouldn't be doing this, but in that moment, all he could think about was the overwhelming need to have you, to possess you, to make you his in every possible way.

And as he lay there, lost in the haze of desire, Harry couldn't help but wonder what would happen if you ever found out about his secret fantasies. Would you be disgusted? Shocked? Or would you embrace them, surrendering yourself to the same forbidden desires that consumed him?

With a shaky breath, Harry pushed aside his doubts and uncertainties, focusing instead on the overwhelming need that burned within him. He knew he shouldn't be doing this, but in that moment, nothing else mattered but the sweet release that awaited him, just a few strokes away.

With each stroke of his hand, he imagined you here with him, your body pressed against his as he fucked you senseless, your moans of pleasure driving him to the brink of ecstasy.

"Oh, fuck," Harry groaned, his voice thick with desire as he imagined the taste of you on his lips, the feel of your soft skin beneath his touch. He could almost feel the heat of you, the slickness of your arousal coating his cock as he pounded into you with reckless abandon.

With each thrust of his hips, Harry's arousal grew, his need for release reaching a fever pitch as he surrendered himself to the intoxicating allure of you. He wanted you, needed you, craved you with every fiber of his being, and nothing else mattered but the sweet release that awaited him.

But then, as Harry's fantasies reached their peak, he heard the sound of the door opening and closing, his heart freezing in his chest as he realized that he wasn't alone. With wide eyes, he turned to see you standing there, your shopping bag dropped to the floor with a thud as you took in the sight before you.

For a moment, you both froze, your eyes locked in a silent exchange of shock and disbelief. But then, as reality sank in, you began to apologize profusely, scrambling to find the door handle behind you as you tried to escape the awkwardness of the situation.

But Harry's hand stopped you, his touch firm and commanding as he reached out and closed the door, trapping you between his body and the door. His chest heaved with exertion as he stood before you, his gaze burning with intensity as he held your gaze captive.

"Shh," Harry whispered, his voice low and husky as he silenced your apologies with a single command. "Be quiet."

You obeyed without hesitation, feeling a familiar tightness in your pussy as his dominant tone washed over you, sending a shiver down your spine. But then, as you glanced down, you noticed something in Harry's other hand, something that made your breath catch in your throat. Your panties, the delicate lace fabric clutched tightly in his grasp, evidence of his forbidden desires..

God, he was masturbating with your panties, using them to fuel his fantasies of you, and the realization sent a surge of arousal coursing through you. You couldn't tear your gaze away from the sight before you, mesmerized by the raw desire that burned within him.

With a shaky breath, Harry stepped closer, his body mere inches from yours as he leaned in, his lips hovering just above yours. "You shouldn't have come in without knocking," he murmured, his voice a low, guttural rasp of desire, "but now that you're here, there's no turning back."

You swallowed hard, feeling a flush of heat spreading across your skin as Harry's words washed over you. Despite the guilt and shame that gnawed at the pit of your stomach, you couldn't deny the overwhelming arousal that pulsed through your veins, urging you to surrender to the forbidden temptation that beckoned.

And as Harry pressed his lips to yours in a hungry kiss, his hand tightening around your panties, you knew that there was no going back. You were his now, completely and utterly, bound by the intoxicating allure of your shared desires.

But as Harry broke away from the kiss, his breath ragged and his chest heaving, he kept his eyes closed, almost as if he was ashamed of his own inappropriate behavior. He knew he had crossed a line, indulging in forbidden desires that should have remained buried deep within him. And yet, as he stood there before you, his arousal still burning hot and fierce, he couldn't bring himself to regret it.

With a shaky breath, Harry opened his eyes, meeting your gaze with a mixture of uncertainty and desire. "I... I'm sorry," he muttered, his voice thick with emotion, "I shouldn't have done that. It was completely inappropriate, and I understand if you want to leave. We can pretend it never happened, and I'll keep my distance from now on."

But as you looked up into his face, studying his handsome features and the vulnerability in his eyes, you knew that this was your chance. Your chance to walk away and pretend that none of this had ever happened, or your chance to seize the opportunity that lay before you and indulge in the forbidden temptation that beckoned.

And the choice was obvious.

With a hesitant breath, you reached out, your hand trembling as you tentatively wrapped your fingers around Harry's erect member, feeling its firmness and heat pulsating beneath your touch. Harry groaned at the sensation, his head lowering to watch the movement of your hand as you explored him with newfound curiosity.

As you touched him, slowly discovering what he liked and how he responded to your ministrations, Harry's desire surged to new heights. But it wasn't enough. No, he wanted more. He wanted to feel you, to taste you, to fuck you senseless against that very door.

"God, yes," Harry groaned, his voice a low, guttural rasp of desire as he reached for you, his hands roaming over your body with a primal urgency. "I want you, need you... Fuck, I need to feel you wrapped around me, begging for more."

With a hungry growl, Harry seized you by the hips, pulling you closer to him as he pressed his lips to yours in a hungry kiss. His tongue delved deep into your mouth, exploring every inch of you as he devoured you with reckless abandon.

You moaned into the kiss, your own desire burning brightly as you surrendered yourself to the intoxicating allure of Harry's touch. With each passing moment, the tension between you grew, the air thick with anticipation as you danced on the edge of ecstasy.

But Harry wasn't content to simply kiss you. No, he wanted more. With a primal growl of need, he lifted you effortlessly, pressing you against the door as he devoured you with feverish abandon. His hands roamed over your body, tracing every curve and contour as he worshiped you with single-minded determination.

As you wrapped your legs around him, holding onto his shoulders for support, you melted into the kiss, your lips moving in sync with his as the heat between you intensified. Harry's hand roamed over your body, exploring every curve with eager anticipation. His touch sent shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you that threatened to consume you whole.

But as much as you enjoyed the foreplay, you couldn't wait any longer. Breaking away from the kiss, you looked into Harry's eyes with a hunger that matched his own. "Forget the foreplay," you whispered, your voice thick with desire, "I want you inside me now."

Harry's breath caught in his throat at your words, his desire mirroring your own as he nodded eagerly. "God, yes," he breathed, his voice low and husky with arousal, "I've imagined this moment for so long, dreamed of having you like this."

With a primal growl of need, Harry reached down and pulled aside your panties, his fingers grazing your wetness as he positioned himself at your entrance. You gasped at the sensation, the anticipation building to a fever pitch as you clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as you braced yourself for what was to come.

And then, with a slow, deliberate motion, Harry pushed inside you, his cock stretching you in the most deliciously sinful way. You threw your head back, a guttural moan escaping your lips as you surrendered yourself to the pleasure of being filled by him.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Harry groaned, his voice thick with desire as he buried himself deep inside you. "I've wanted this for so long, imagined it in my darkest fantasies."

You moaned in response, the sensation of him moving inside you sending waves of pleasure crashing over you. With each thrust, he pushed you closer to the edge of ecstasy, his girth stretching you in all the right ways as you clung to him, lost in a haze of pleasure and desire.

"Harder," you begged, your voice a breathless whisper as you urged him on. "I want to feel all of you, every inch of your cock inside me."

Harry growled in response, his movements becoming more urgent as he pounded into you with reckless abandon. You clung to him, your bodies moving in perfect harmony as you chased the blissful release that awaited you both.

As Harry continued to thrust into you with abandon, his movements becoming more urgent with each passing moment, you found yourself lost in a haze of pleasure and desire. With each stroke, he filled you completely, his cock stretching you in all the right ways as you clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as you braced yourself against the door.

"Oh, God, Harry," you moaned, your voice thick with desire as you surrendered yourself to the overwhelming pleasure that consumed you. "Yes, just like that. Harder."

Harry growled in response, his hands roaming over your body with a primal urgency as he pounded into you with reckless abandon. You could feel the heat building between you, the tension reaching a fever pitch as you chased the blissful release that awaited you both.

And then, as you opened your eyes and looked over Harry's shoulder, you saw the reflection of the two of you in the mirror on the other side of the hotel room. The image seemed almost mocking, you fully clothed while Harry was naked, pressing you against the door as he fucked you with abandon.

Your legs were wrapped around him, your blouse partially unbuttoned as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the sweet scent of strawberries that clung to your skin, you couldn't help but feel a surge of arousal coursing through you.

Strawberries. That was the scent that had driven Harry wild with desire, the sweet aroma that had ignited his passion and fueled his forbidden fantasies. And now, as he breathed it in with eager anticipation, he felt a sense of satisfaction wash over he, knowing that he had finally discovered the source of his obsession.

It was so inappropriate, so taboo, and yet, you loved every second of it.

"Fuck, you feel amazing," Harry groaned, his voice thick with desire as he continued to thrust into you with abandon. "You're driving me crazy, you know that?"

You smirked, feeling a surge of satisfaction at the effect you were having on him. "Oh, I know," you teased, your voice dripping with seduction. "But I like driving you crazy."

With a hungry growl, Harry pressed his lips to yours in a hungry kiss, his tongue delving deep into your mouth as he devoured you with feverish abandon. You melted into the kiss, your bodies moving in perfect harmony as you surrendered yourself to the intoxicating pleasure that consumed you.

And as Harry continued to fuck you senseless against the door, you knew that this was only the beginning of your forbidden affair. The thrill of the taboo, the excitement of being caught, it all added to the intensity of the moment, fueling your desire with every passing second.

You were his secretary, he was your boss, and yet, in that moment, none of it mattered. All that mattered was the overwhelming need that burned between you, driving you to the brink of ecstasy as you surrendered yourself to the forbidden temptation that beckoned.

#alan rickman #alan rickman x reader #harry x reader #love actually

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