#I couldn't find this on tumblr so I made it

[aydracz]

South Downs Happy Husbands

@idkchatie

(More pics below - can someone please teach me how to tumblr? This is just embarrassing for everyone.)

Buzzing to share these with you! While on our trip to London to see Nye (which was phenomenal and so was meeting Michael afterwards!), @0xlilith and I made a day trip to the South Downs to see where the innefable husbands will spend their retirement.

We were blown away (figuratively and literally - the weather was quite rough at the beginning) by the South Downs! And then the time came to take out some amazing fanart and take photos of what Crowley and Aziraphale might be up to in the future.

Couldn't find the creator - please help, so I can credit them

@blairamok

@lizulimu on X

@numbuh424

Couldn't find the creator - please help, so I can credit them

Couldn't find the creator - please help, so I can credit them

@tio-trile

@kidovna

Bonus - @0xlilith and I, being the rational adults that we are, decided to draw magician moustaches, print out the first photo and go to the National Theatre again to show it to Michael Sheen. Sadly, he didn't do stage door that night. But we met many wonderful people in the queue so it was a great evening nonetheless!

We had a blast doing this and many new headcanons came out of this trip. For example:

Crowley shouts at all the rabbits because they are eating his garden produce. Until he notices there are also little bunnies and he simply cannot shout at those. He ends up dedicating part of his garden to the rabbits. Aziraphale finds this endearing.

While on their walks on the cliffs, Crowley picks up snails.

Crowley makes up random stories about the local lore and tells them to the tourists. Aziraphale puts and end to this when the stories gradually become more and more unhinged.

Aziraphale takes up bird watching.

Crowley makes fun of it at first but then he also takes up bird watching.

Aziraphale and Crowley start competing in bird watching.

Aziraphale doesn't believe Crowley saw the birds he claims he did.

Crowley is adamant he really saw the yellow-breasted tit.

Aziraphale calls Crowley a yellow-breasted tit.

Etc etc.

Hope you enjoy these as much as we enjoyed making them!

And if you are in London right now, some are actually glued to the benches around the Bandstand in Battersea Park. Check out my previous post to get the details!

#the future we were promised #nothing but the very best for the group of the two of them #the nightingales shall sing again in the south downs #crowley #aziraphale #good omens #good omens season 2 #aziraphale and crowley #go2 #gomens #ineffable husbands #ineffable spouses #aziracrow #michael sheen #good omens 2 #david tennant #neil gaiman #south downs #south downs cottage #seven sisters #art #good omens fandom #good omens fanart #aziraphale fanart #crowley fanart #go fanart #go2 fanart #good omens 2 fanart #ineffable fanart #fanart

[auteurdelabre]

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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#dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo #dieter x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo fanfic #pedro pascal characters

[heauxvibez]

Read It and Weep

warning: smut (18+), part 2 to Tumblr Troubles

"Put them on my love," Roman's voice purred, his eyes tracing every move you made with a low gaze. He sunk into the loveseat, positioned perfectly to take in every moment that was about to unfold before him.

As you hesitated, his gaze only darkened, making you as nervous as ever. With slow motion, you slid the lace fabric over your skin, feeling the soft caress against your thighs. Your breath caught in your throat, and your heart raced as his eyes traveled up and down your body.

Roman's fingers trailed lightly over his beard, his lips finding their way between his teeth as he watched you. The air between you buzzed with anticipation.

As you know, Roman is a master of seduction. He likes to make sure that his every move is calculated to keep you on edge. You love that about him though, you couldn't imagine a better partner in the bedroom.

As you finally slipped the panties into place, you felt the vibrator rub against your sensitive bud. You couldn't help but moan at the contact which earned a slight smile from Roman.

"Mmm, come and sit at the edge of the bed for me," his voice, smooth as silk, beckoned you. You obeyed his command, feeling a rush of heat radiating through your whole entire being.

"Slide back a little, sweetheart, and open up those gorgeous legs of yours for me. Butterfly position," the sensual command sent you anywhere but here. Without hesitation you complied, shifting back on the bed and gracefully opened your legs, letting them fall open like delicate petals.

You leaned back and surrendered, your supple form arched slightly as you supported yourself on your outstretched arms, fingers curling against the soft fabric of the bedding. You revealed yourself to him, every curve and contour an offering to his hungry gaze.

Your chest rose and fell with the rhythm of your breath while your exposed breasts damn near called out to him, your nipples standing proudly in the sultry air. If only you knew how bad this man was battling with himself internally. He wanted to take one into his mouth and swirl his tongue around your bud while teasing the other with his rough fingers. But he had something else in store for you.

As you tried to ease into the moment, you noticed Roman holding your phone in his hand, the vibrant pink case contrasting against his bronzed fingers. Confusion flickered across your face, your head tilted slightly as you tried to figure out what this man was planning.

"Baby, why do you have my phone?" you asked. You had no problem with him having it, after all, you had nothing to hide. Yet, him having it in his possession was odd nonetheless.

A soft chuckle danced across his lips before he finally decided to let you in on the fun

"I'm going to give you this phone," he announced, rising slowly from his seat.

"You'll open your Tumblr," he continued, taking purposeful steps toward you.

"You'll pick one of your smut stories about me and read it aloud," his voice a velvety caress as he handed you the device.

"While I," his hand tenderly trailed from the outside of your panties, tracing a tender path up your body until it reached your throat, his grip firm and commanding.

"Use this remote on your sweet pussy.. and you better not cum until I say so," he declared, his words sending a thrill coursing through you as he released his hold. You sat there, mouth slightly agape, as his plan unfolded before you.

"Wait, what?" you stammered, struggling to comprehend what the hell he was saying.

With a knowing smirk, he stepped back, returning to his seat. His fingers dipped into the pockets of his sweatpants, grabbing the remote with a deliberate slowness that made your breath catch in anticipation. His gaze locked with yours, a silent challenge passing between you as he toyed with the control, a wicked gleam dancing in his eyes.

"You heard me, sweetheart. Now, don't keep me waiting," he teased, as you braced yourself for the electrifying journey he had planned.

The idea of reading a Tumblr one shot to him while he held your very pleasure in his hands sent your mind into a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Excitement, nervousness, anxiety, embarrassment – a wild blend to say the least.

Questions swirled in your mind. Which story should you choose? Your own? Or maybe one penned by another talented writer? The options seemed endless, each one a nerve-wracking possibility.

Sensing your hesitation, Roman took charge, his sweet voice a small piece of encouragement.

"You're a great writer baby. Let me hear your work.."

A blush crept across your brown cheeks. You were flattered yet embarrassed. It was nice to know that he admired your work but also almost unbelievable that this man tapped into your hidden life.

With trembling hands, you opened your phone, your fingers grazing the screen as you navigated through your trove of drafts, filled with many Roman-centric tales. Roman remembered your Tumblr username and delved into your online persona, something that both surprised and delighted you. What had begun as your secret digital world passion was now blossoming into an intimate connection, one that left you both vulnerable and exhilarated.

Taking a deep breath, you selected a draft that felt suitable for this moment, your pulse quickening as Roman watched you with avid interest. He reached for the glass of wine, a nod to the rituals you often recommended to your readers, and indulged in a sip before settling back into his seat.

With the stage set and anticipation thick in the air, you prepared to bring him into the world of your creation, your voice poised to weave a spellbinding tale that would ignite his senses and leave him yearning for more.

"I trembled as his fingertips pressed into the warmth of my skin, his grasp on my waist tightening with a delicious firmness that sent me into a spiral.

Tonight held a resonance unlike any other night we'd shared before. Sex had been passionate between us but for some reason, this evening held a depth that felt like no other.

Each caress was followed by goosebumps, leaving me yearning for more and every kiss elicited butterflies.

"This pussy feels so good, baby," he groaned, beads of sweat glistening on his brow as he thrust relentlessly into me.

I whimpered softly, guiding his hands away from my hips to entwine our fingers together. Roman's head fell back in bliss, his lips capturing his own bottom lip in a bite, as I assumed control of our shared rhythm, each movement creating a deeper connection between uuuussss." you moaned as you felt the intense vibration on your clit.

Your eyes darted towards him, seeking out the remote control that held the power to your body. There it lay, innocently untouched, nestled in Roman's lap. As your eyes followed the path upward, you couldn't help but notice his relaxed posture, his right arm draped casually over the armrest while his hand cradled the wine glass with nonchalant ease.

This man really meant it, he fully intended to allow the vibrator to take control, to send waves of pleasure cascading through you as you obediently read the story for his pleasure.

His brow raised as he took another sip. His tongue, again, licked the remnants from his upper lip.

"Keep going," he whispered. You threw your head back as his words washed over you. With your left arm stretched behind you for support, you arched into the pleasure once more, your body trembling with each vibration.

Each breath was a whispered plea for more, your lips parting as soft gasps escaped. You fought to maintain composure, but the overwhelming ecstasy threatened to consume you entirely. As your head dipped towards your chest, a symphony of restrained moans and muffled whimpers danced between your parted lips.

"B-Baby, I don't think I-I can keep...keep reading,"

You were on the brink of tears, overwhelmed by sensation. Every fiber of your being ached for release. You felt the sweet trickle of your juices down your warm, quivering slit, pooling in your lace panties. Each drop soaked into the fabric.

Roman's groan echoed through the room. His dick strained against his sweats, aching to be set free. With a ragged exhale, he fought to control himself, and you."

"Yes, you can baby girl and you will."

With a longing gaze, you opened your eyes, meeting his gaze with hunger, the intensity of the moment urging you to continue the story

"K-kissing my way up h-his neck, I trailed soffftttt, l-lingering kisses along the cuuuurve of his jaw, savoring the ssssssalty-sweet taste of his bronzed skin. Fuck. Each touch of m-my lips earned looooow guttural g-groans from deeeeeep within his chest, his d-dick twitched every car-ress."

Your moans and curses, painted the air as you struggled to read the story. Each stuttered breath, each whispered confession, had Roman swooning. He savored every nuance, every tremble that wracked your body.

He drank in the sight of you. The way your lips trembled with each syllable, the delicate arch of your back as pleasure washed over you, and the glistening trail of your essence seeping through the fabric of your panties.

His dick throbbed almost painfully. Every shift, every twitch of his muscles, threatened to push him over the edge. He tried to stay still as possible, knowing that even the slightest friction against his dick would send him into a blissful release.

"Fuck baby, you look so beautiful when you're reading to me like this," he moaned. His words were like a soft caress to your clit.

"B-baby, if you keep t-talking to me..I-I'm going to cum. S-so just..just hushhh.." you uttered weakly.

The intense hums against your sensitive folds shook you to the core. Each pulse of the toy was met with your wetness. With Roman's voice caressing your ears, you struggled to maintain your focus. His words wrapped around your mind like silk. He didn't want you to cum, but did everything that would push you over the edge?

Roman shook his head with a dark chuckle, "One thing about me baby...I will do what I want and you will do what I say." he took the remote into his hand turning up the intensity.

"Fuuuuuuucccckkkkk," the grip on your phone was almost deadly. You could've sworn the phone was going to break in your hold.

"Now keep reading and like I said..you better not fucking cum until I say so." The torture you felt at the hands of this man had you wanting to get out of your own skin. But you also loved it. You were just as wicked as him for enjoying this, so you kept reading..

"A-as I pressed m-my lips against hiiiiissss, the h-heat between my legs in-intensifiiiiied, and a pl-plethora of gaaasps and...and moans filled the air. Baby..baby I can't..I can't do this. I'm going to cum. I'm sorry..." Your breath hitched, a soft gasp escaping your parted lips. The knot in your stomach tightened, nearly having you in shambles.

You awaited his command, expecting him to take control and stop the vibrator at any moment.

But to your surprise, he didn't turn it off. Your breath caught in your throat as Roman's fingers closed around the remote, his grip firm and purposeful. With a mischievous glint in his eyes and a smile on his lips, he cranked up the intensity.

"If you're not going to listen, the least you could do is look daddy in his eyes while you cum." he leaned forward, his head cocked to the side while he watched you unravel.

Your soft brown eyes locked with his. Each breath you took felt like a struggle, your chest rising and falling with uneven rhythm..

You wanted to throw your head back, surrender to the moment, and moan the loudest moan anyone has ever heard. Yet, his eyes held you captive, rooted in place, unable to break free. Your lips parted to moan, but any and all sounds were stuck in the pit of your throat.

Your fingers tightened around the phone, clinging to it as if it were grounding you to the bed.

Unable to hold back any longer, a surge of pleasure washed over you, sending waves of bliss coursing through your veins. Your pussy throbbed and spasmed, releasing sweet juices that soaked anything in it's path.

"That's right my sweet girl, nut for daddy. Mmm, you love when I snatch your soul and make you look at me while I do it, huh baby?.."

He smirked as he watched a single tear trace a path down your flushed cheek. With a subtle nod, you acknowledged him

"You know the deal, use your words baby.." he urged while your orgasm still rumbled through your body.

"Yes daddy," you sobbed as vibrations continued to pulse against your throbbing clit. It was almost unbearable, a delicious agony.

You had an urge to close your legs, in an attempt to run from the feeling, but you knew that any movement would make the feeling consume you even more.

"Okay, o-okay baby. I came, s-stop." You pleaded. You barely had the strength to move, let alone to take the panties off.

Roman settled back into his seat, his fingers reaching for the wine glass once again. With a flick of his thumb, he dialed down the intensity of the remote, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips as he watched you struggle.

"Uhn uhn, you know there are consequences when you don't listen to me. You came, I told you not to." you whimpered in protest, your body writhing beneath the relentless assault of the vibrations. But those whimpers fell upon deaf ears.

With a soft smirk, he placed the wine glass back on the table, "But I'm all about giving chances. So you're going to start that story from the beginning, and we're going to try this again, and again..and again until you get it right.."

------------------------------------

YALL, this took me 3 daaaaayyyysssss. So I really hope you like it *ssobbbssssss*

Tags:@harmshake@southerngirl41@spritelucozade@empressdede@alichesmi@kumapassion@msbigredmachine @theninthwonder @mzv11 @wrestlingprincess80 @saintmagx

#roman reigns #wwe #roman reigns fanfiction #wwefanfic #roman reigns smut #romanreignsimagine #romanreignsoneshot #roman reigns x black reader #fanfiction #roman reigns fluff

[fridaypls]

Random BG3 drawing stuff that might be useful?

This BG3 Face Reference Library; I really only draw Gale, Halsin and Gale at the moment (Wyll's horns elude me, sorry beautiful boy), so that's who's in my library. Most of it is pulled from Tumblr, so please don't repost it. I am slowly adding the other companions, as well as Withers, Rolan, Rugan, Zevlor and taking requests for others.

Astarion (92 images)

Gale (45 images)

Halsin (72 images)

The high-elven font from the game - probably most memorable from Astarion's grave. First font I ever made, so it's not too fancy, but it gets the job done.

AdorkaStock on Deviant Art;

A pose library, one of the best IMHO. Formerly SeishiStock. Some fantastic group poses.

TheMaleNudeStock:

make sure you read that name before you click on it. No photos for this one, you'll have to use your imagination or click the link.

Daestock:

an inactive account with some AWESEOME action poses

Magic Poser:

Posable reference tool on iPad. My go to, I've been using it for six years and it's lovingly reliable. Plus it's fun to make their hips swish when I'm bored. I paid the $10 one-time pro charge to have a decent amount of the presents unlocked. It's super basic, but it does work on ipad, which is super handy!

Face Model for iPad:

a posable model for faces with a steep learning curve. It's glitchy, hitchy and all around itchy, but is very worth it when you're struggling with a particular facial expression that you couldn't find a perfectly angled reference for. Cost me $3.99, one time cost.

Procreate:

trusty, rusty Procreate, does it even need to be mentioned?

What tools do you use? What should I add to this list?

#art tools #art reference #magic poser #how the sausage is made #bg3 fan art #astarion fan art #halsin fan art #gale fan art #bg3 #bg3 fanart #bg3 art #art tips #art references #useful websites #art refs #drawing reference #pose references #group pose references #action pose references

[thought--bubble]

Taking a little breaky break

This is just a heads up for my small little group of people on here. I have come to call my friends. I just wanted to let you all know that I'm going to be taking a much needed respite from tumblr and probably discord, too. I am feeling lost, sad,overwhelmed, and confused.

I know it sounds silly or whatnot, but all of this stuff is overwhelming and depressing, and I feel sick when I open this app at this point.

The best word to use, I guess, would be winded, maybe?

I joined Tumblr in Sept 23, and at first, it was really fun, a much needed escape from my daily never-ending list of crap to do.

I unfortunately learned how crazy this fandom can get early on and the hard way. I had hoped that that was just a one-off due to my newbie ignorance and took it as a lesson learned for myself.

But it's starting to feel like the drama never fucking stops. It just keeps going, and nice people, kind people, just get dragged and ridiculed for seemingly no reason. I will pathetically admit that I am a sensitive soul, and the things I've read and seen have seriously negatively affected me.

When people are catty regarding people they don't like or that don't like them, I can usually reconcile that to a particular degree. People are, in fact, people. Not everyone is going to vibe with everyone, and people will make jokes at others' expense, and it isn't exactly mature, but it happens.

That is what I expected when I heard this was coming. Some catty shit slinging between people who don't like each other.

But that isn't all this was, and I'm having a really hard time with that. I even thought, "Oh maybe some moderately rude jokes here and there where you know cultural differences and stuff could account for that" like I'm from the northeast and we can be harsh out here. So something that may be offensive to someone from another area may be looked at here just as a joke made in poor taste.

I know I myself have made jokes or whatnot, but you would think certain things would be off limits.

I thought I could combat the negative with positives. Silly jokes, little messages filled with love, but even that isn't working at this point.

My heart hurts, and my brain hurts.

And all this stuff has made me question myself. I had a block list a mile long for the longest time. Filled predominantly with people I had never spoken to because I was scared, nervous, I didn't want to accidentally interact with a post of someone who would be upset that I did, I unfollowed blogs I liked based on this same principle. I just desperately did not want to make someone mad or uncomfortable and find myself back in some weird mean anon tornado.

I tried to sus out who would be bothered by my presence and who wouldn't. I can't even know if my thoughts on who may or may not be upset by me were based on my paranoia or a perception i developed or was potentially affected by outside sources.

Now, i just don't know what the hell is going on.

Sorry for the word vomit. Just wanted to be honest. There are some of us out here who are just standing around with question marks over our heads.

Maybe it's because I wasn't here for a lot of that other weirdness. Maybe it's because of early events that shaped my experience on this app, but I for sure 100% need a break.

I'm an odd duck and love this app mostly because it's the only site I've seen where others actively fan-girl over my favorite Ewan character.

But right now, not even my love for Will can keep me on this app, and for those who know me, that's truly saying something.

This post is not meant to badmouth anyone at all. Honestly at this point I couldn't bad mouth anyone because I'm fucking lost on who anyone really is or how they really feel about things, dude I'm just plain lost.

Thank you to those who have been kind. My apologies to those I may have judged or assumed things about based on who the hell knows.

I hope that when I come back, I can open this app without yet another person that I like having a post of them being torn apart. Or a post of a story that I had heard being told in a completely different way and throwing me for a complete loop.

For now I am going to watch Will edits on TikTok and maybe read via Ao3.

Love and healing vibes to all.

#To my lovelies #I'll be back #I'm just not sure when #hotd fandom

[lily-orchard-gossip-blog]

Hello hello again! It's good to have you back for a little while! Unfortunately there is a lot of infighting in the critical sphere right now and it's not very fun to follow. And worse still Lily is as smug as ever. People are too invested in who ripped off what, who's disrespecting this or that, they should just be having fun at Lily's expense. That's what Saiscribbles has done, and you can tell how effective it is because Lily has tried every strategy in the book to prove how not mad she is.

You know what?

I think I would like to poke fun at the whole thing. I mean, it's sounds like she's gotten a bit ridiculous since I've been gone. (Ridiculous sounds like an understatement, thought.)

I've done serious and it's exhausting. You can only take her serious for so long before you realize she doesn't really even know or believe what she's saying.

As for the fighting, well... It's a shame, but let's try to focus on what's at the core of this blog: Gossiping about Lily.

...But I do have one thing I want to get off my chest, so I will mention it here and then move on. It is under the read bar just so those who don't care can ignore it.

I do have one thing to say about the drama, and that's about Ethel.

They are a liar liar pants on fire.

Seriously, I watched Evangeline Skovs video, which was one of the better coverages on the subject and there was no plagiarism. Not even of me, and I was a source!

Never mind that fact that Ethel legit lied about my blog in their rebuttal, claiming that Levi couldn't find anything on my blog about their video, or glade, so Evangeline was lying.

Their proof? Levi used the search bar, used the word minor and glade, and nothing came up except one post...

Fun fact: I'm bad at tagging things, and my search bar is kind of useless because of that.

(Side note: why would I use glade's name? Why would I want to draw attention to someone who I assumed wanted to be left alone? I'm pretty sure that was made clear in the video.)

Anyway, if you used my archive you could easily find TONES of posts from me talking about the video in question with details.

Here's one that Ethel conveniently left out:

And you know what's hilarious about that? They reblogged this take to try and rebuke it on their tumblr. (That they have long since abandoned.)

I decided to ignore it, because obviously I'm not going to try and get in a fight with them, and Ethel was so mad by that they messaged me directly to try and threaten me with legal jargon.

So I blocked them.

But hey, since I'll probably never bother with this again, here are the messages. Enjoy old drama from like...2 years ago:

Image text here:

[Okay, I've put this off for as long as possible, but please, read this case study as right now you are parroting harmful legal advice. Victim testimony not only constitutes evidence, but can be sufficient evidence to convict, a fact that was tested in Commonwealth v Gustavo Gonzalez Santos in Massachusetts.

I’ll highlight two relevant sections in case you don’t have the time to read the entire thing: “The defendant's sole argument on appeal is that the evidence was not sufficient to support his convictions. The defendant asserts that "there were no witnesses to the alleged assaults," "no physical evidence," "no medical or forensic evidence," and "no expert testimony." He argues that "there was absolutely no conclusive evidence presented at trial that suggested the [d]efendant's guilt beyond a reasonable doubt."” And: “Here, the victim testified to facts that constituted each element of the charged offenses. Her testimony, which the jury found to be credible, was sufficient, standing alone, to support a finding beyond a reasonable doubt as to each of the convictions. See, e.g., Commonwealth v. Lawrence, 68 Mass. App. Ct. 103, 104 (2007)

("The victim's testimony was sufficient evidence of [indecent assault and battery on a child under age fourteen]"); Commonwealth v. Gonsalves, 23 Mass. App. Ct. 184, 185 (1986) ("The victim's account of what the defendant did to him in the apartment was sufficient to overcome the defendant's motion for a required finding of not guilty of rape"). The idea that long infected our legal system that the victim's testimony in sexual assault and rape cases is less credible than the testimony of victims in cases involving other types of crimes -- an idea that reflected nothing more than sexism and an unwillingness on the part of our courts to treat sexual crimes as the gravely serious matter that they are -- has been rejected both by statute and by common law.”

When you and others continue to parrot the myth that victim testimony does not constitute as valid evidence, you are harming victims of rape and abuse. This is straight up rape culture and, since I’m pushing back any video coverage on the matter until I’ve finished dealing with Lily because I don’t want to muddle things, I need you to stop promoting falsehoods. We have legal members on our team who have passed the bar, Patchie does not, Opal does not, and neither does You Can Eat Hearts. You are causing unnecessary harm to victims by breathing life into myths constructed by rape culture. To be clear, I am not asking for your denouncement of certain people, just for you to please, stop publishing bad legal takes.

This is also the case in Canada, if you're wondering - https://www.accused.ca/evidence.htm

Sorry, I just realized I didn't give you the US case study. Here it is - http://masscases.com/cases/app/100/100massappct1.html#:~:text=The%20jury%20found%20the%20defendant,We%20affirm. ]

Oct 30, 2022 9:16 AM

Whew, you have no idea how long I wanted to spill this tea.

Alright, I've said what I've wanted to say on this topic. I'm now going to focus on laughing at Lily and her horrible incest stories.

[lazyjellyfish300]

Gonna get personal here for a sec... because I have nowhere else to turn to.... 😞

I'm a budding author, so I have an agent that I've hired to beta read my stuff, edit, give feedback etc. right?

TBH he was kinda rude at first, he was a stickler about my punctuation and grammar. He even made comments that were borderline unprofessional about my AU, calling it frivolous essentially. So, I bit my tongue for as long as I could, because I didn't want to mess up this opportunity because finding agents and going through the editing process is HARD, y'all.

Well, one day after I got a haircut I noticed he was a little bit softer towards me which threw me off. Idk if it was the haircut but it definitely was the first time I noticed a change in his attitude and so I kind of made a little joke and he laughed. It got me asking about a show we both like to watch and no joke, we sat there on zoom for like an hour and a half just chatting. We didn't even get to discussing the draft at all so I had to end it there bc I had another meeting scheduled. Not going to lie, it felt a little weird & just couldn't get my mind off of it after that.

Well, it turned into smiles, flirty comments here and there. Then one day he just outright asked me if I wanted to get dinner...I knew it was a horrible idea but at this point I had a crush on him so I said yes anyway. He lives far away and flew out here for business but he extended his trip by an extra day JUST to see me. Literally nobody has ever done that for me...

Chat, I don't know what to do....I'm being so selfish but he makes me feel so happy. He buys me flowers and gets me coffee & food while I'm working. Like this man lives in a different time zone from me but he ORDERS DOOR DASH AND UBER EATS and has it delivered to my house. 😩

He listens & doesn't judge me for any of the stupid things I like or hate the fact that I get on Tumblr and write nasty fanfics about a cartoon man.

We can't tell other people about our relationship bc he could lose his job if it's found out he's seeing one of his clients. I'm literally risking everything ffs!!! I know it's wrong, but I can't help it...

Well, I confess I'm in love with him & this is me being honest abt it. Idc anymore...

(don't worry, he's happy, he was just making that face bc he was hungry but I was trying to sit there and take selfies before dinner. My beautiful irl bestie made this for me btw)

#jellyfish off the clock

[somnimagus]

My page for @sheikahzine; about Impaz's duty to her village, empty of people and full of memories.

[id in alt text]

#legend of zelda #loz #twilight princess #loz tp #i'm still reeling that someone sent me an ask about this one.. that they took the time to find my tumblr and tell me they liked it #it really meant a lot; thank you to anyone that stops to leave comments like that. they make me happy #but yeah! here's the usual symbolism ramble: #i thought it'd be cool to have the 'spirits' flowing one way and the cats walking through them the other way #to kinda show the difference in life inhabiting the village in the past and present #link's face is covered because impaz was just waiting for 'the hero' so his clothes are what matters; not his face #and it (hopefully) gives a surreal and intangible sense to 'the hero' she could only hope would actually show up #you can feel free to interpret the glowy blue sheikah as ghosts or just as memories of the past! i couldn't decide either way #the one on the bottom left is oot impa since she's implied to be the village founder. so i guess she would be a ghost actually? #fan art #my art #project stuff #and ahhh the book-- everyone's stuff is so beautiful!! #especially the writing. some of the fics made me really tear up and some were so fun and clever. i really love them #a lot of them captured the sheer burden of the role of the sheikah; all of the time and grief and doubt #i know i always say this stuff about every project but. the people i get to work with in these are truly so skilled every time

[sskk-manifesto]

I love my women unhinged with blood splattered across their face

#She was so cool for this seriously... #I was looking for a Tumblr textpost in the lines of the caption but I couldn't find it... #I think I might have made it up out of the Tumblr shared sentiment #anyways the caption shall have to go #akiko yosano #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd s4 #bsd season 4 #I enhanced the image once again... #Sorry for the controversial opinion but I think we should be able to see media even when we aren't in a 100% dark room– #with brightness at its max.........

[phyrrhicvictory]

The Confession (2007) / The Oath (2017)

"It wasn't worth it" / "What a waste"

Tony's bottomless grief about losing Steve, after making himself the enemy to specifically avoid this outcome of the war mirrored against Hydra!Cap's detatched observation of loss always gets me.

Don't get me wrong Nick Spencer should be taken out the back and shot, for that stupid story line. But the oath was released in 2017 when I was doing my masters and I really really needed the fanfiction coming out of this to keep me sane.

#Steve Rogers #Tony Stark #Marvel 616 #SteveTony #Stony #I couldn't find the side-by-side post #for the life of me I know it was on tumblr somewhere #but I cannot find it #so I made one myself I would find

[arklay]

RESIDENT EVIL → THE WESKER FAMILY

To the public, little is known of the families behind some of the world’s most renowned bioterrorists, but the question remains: did they play a role in causing their children to walk down the path that they did? Or are these individuals simply ambitious criminals with delusions of grandeur?

For Diana Wesker (née Afanasyeva), her introduction into the bioweapons black market trade was upon discovering her employers were using her research into limb regeneration with salamanders to further their experiments in creating enhanced soldiers, instead of developing human therapies with which she was recruited for. Although the prospect of using biological weapons in the military did not appeal to her, the concept remained fascinating for her own selfish endeavours. Born on the 27th of October, 1963 in Sydney, Australia to Russian immigrant parents, Diana had harsh expectations placed upon her at a young age, ones that no matter how hard she tried she could never live up to. Her mother, Tatyana, was an unfeeling woman, absent for long stretches of time with little regard to how it affected her daughters, much more concerned with her craft as an accomplished opera singer. Viktor was no better. A strict man whose role as father and ballet master blurred, he pushed his girls to one day follow in his footsteps. Whilst Sofia enjoyed ballet, and went on to become a professional ballet dancer, Diana’s heart was set on going into the field of biology. She wished to make a name for herself, separate from her family – to which she succeeded.

Diana was married to former U.S. Marine, Dave Monroe, for only a year until he was declared dead in 1992 after succumbing to injuries sustained in a horrific car accident. Foul play was ruled out while Diana played the role of the grief-stricken widow, but in reality, she had snapped after years of mistreatment at her husband’s hands, and opted for something she could pass off as an accident to be free of him. For years she believed he was dead – and he was, legally – but that proved to not be the case when he found his way back into her life again in 1999. Unbeknownst to her, she had been lied to by the police and coroner, who were paid off by her employers when they took Dave’s body for themselves and used him as one of their first test subjects in developing supersoldiers. Before he could ever hurt her again, Diana’s second husband, Albert Wesker, tracked the man down, captured him and tortured him, before allowing Diana to get her violent and bloody revenge.

The origins of Albert Wesker’s involvement in bioterrorism, alongside his twin sister, Alex, are much different than that of Diana’s. The two hail from London, Canada, but unfortunately, they hold no memories of their lives there, nor what happened to their biological parents when they were eight years old. Agents of Oswell E. Spencer, an aristocratic billionaire and eugenicist, took the twins from their home and executed their parents as per Spencer’s orders. Albert and Alex were then placed in a home funded by the Spencer Foundation where they were given new names and a privileged upbringing. They had access to the best education possible, free to pursue whichever field they decided, but it was by no accident they both went into virology and bioengineering; at home, their adoptive parents – agents whom they believed to be their real parents – instilled them with the beliefs of Oswell E. Spencer, harbouring disdain for war and pestilence, and believing humans to be an evolutionary dead-end in need of a rebirth. They were only two of the hundreds of children “adopted” as part of what is known as Project W, a plan intended to develop an advanced race of human beings. The most promising candidates were headhunted by Umbrella Pharmaceuticals, the twins amongst them, where they went on to create bioweapons for the company founded by none other than the man who had handpicked them for his plan. The final stage of this was to infect the thirteen Spencer saw fit, however, only two survived; Albert received the intended effects, now possessing superhuman abilities, however, Alex was only offered more time to live due to her terminal degenerative illness.

In the summer of 1995, Diana was working undercover within Umbrella to gather development data on their projects for her company. Here, she had a chance encounter with Albert, an intelligence officer at the time, which permanently altered the course of her life. The two were never seen far from one another’s side, marrying in 1998, and they went on to become notorious in the bioweapons industry. The development of the Uroboros virus was where things took a turn for the worst. Although Diana’s infection was successful and she bore abilities that rivalled her husband’s, the plan itself did not succeed as they had hoped, and almost cost Albert his life at the hands of his former subordinates.

Now, they work within the shadows, with Diana declared missing and Albert believed to be dead. Their legacy, however, lives on with the mark they left on the world. As visionaries in their field, they influenced bioterror attacks carried out by countless individuals and organisations. In turn, they also inspired others to fight against such atrocities. One such person happens to be Albert’s son from a former relationship, Jake Müller, whose existence he was unaware of.

#mine. #oc: diana #pair: ewskers #click for better quality cause it's large & tumblr ate it ♡ #hii so happy birthday diana !! queen is 60 today :] #um. there's no template cause i made this from scratch...i couldn't find any i was vibing with so i was like you know what lmaoo #i'm sorry for the essay...it was meant to be just a short rundown of the family but well...that happened. typical leah fashion... #oh and guys. did you know that there's a limit to the amount you can put in one blockquote? that's why the rest is just left like that caus #i didn't like how it looked with a blockquote each paragraph...cause the spaces between were unever. you understand 😔 #with the tree i was also going to include weskids adoptive parents but i couldn't figure out how to arrange it all & make it look nice !! #cause i also wanted to have spencer in there as well cause he's a big reason why the weskids are the way they are...was maybe gonna include #sherry as well. like connected to jake (hehe) and then do her parents too but that would've made things so wide & it's already big enough #yes. i hc that albert & alex are biological twins. just for clarification there :] i don't think i added anything else that isn't canon or #implied with canon. cause the weskids were put in homes (or at least whatever ''controlled environments'' means) where they were monitored #by umbrella but were unaware of it. so yeah. i don't think i really changed much there !! #honestly i could've kept rambling cause there's alex's whole situation. there's my lore with jake's mum. there's way more with the ewskers #but it's already so long & i can't be concise so there's that lmaoo oh also diana's grandma. so much stuff #also meant to say the weskids birthday in that ramble. it's january 15 1960 :] they are capricorn sun leo moons but alex was born earlier s #their rising signs are albert is a scorpio rising & alex is a libra rising !! #had to redo the image cause typo on diana's birth year for some reason lmao so if that messed up the formatting i will sob

[sakuraswordly]

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic prime #I couldn't find it on tumblr so I made it #My favourite is face on the wall lol #gif #i can watch this all day

[keeps-ache]

drawin prompt: video killed the radio star but theyre both obj heads (im going to draw it too!)

oh, welcome to the studio! you must be new here-

[transparent version below]

thanks for the prompt !! send me the link when you post yours !! :D

#just us hi #art #my art #artists on tumblr #digital art #oc #? mayhaps #tw blood #tw impalement #YEAA #awesome prompt i've always wanted to draw smth like this and always forgot Hbvfshf :D #/getting ~+~ fancy with some of this stuff lol :33 #//also man i hate plaid sm Fvhshfhhs #but also i was very committed to it. i redid it like 3 times hfhs #+ the radio design is something i made up more or less cuz i couldn't find any that would work very well for me #oh wells! i like it anyway :) #also i love drawing pinstripes :D just not digitally Hbfvshfbv #oooh the pains.. #//[does a dancin dance] ooo i got motion sick on the way home drawing this so Lmao #i'm going to. recuperate hfh 👍👍 #//thanks again for the prompt had a Lot of fun doin this ehegh :DD !! #<33

[theflyingfeeling]

eyyyyyyy look what I wrote because I was umm... bored and procrastinating. yeah, definitely only that 🙂

additional tags: angst and smut of some kind (more the implied kind that the explicit one)

enjoy~

~

The last time they did it was supposed to be the last time. Then again, so was the time before that, and the time before that (and the time before that as well). Yet, here they were once again, in a dark hotel room, connected at the mouth, hands on each other's cocks.

It had all started on a particularly wintery night in early November, in the sauna of Aleksi's summer cottage, of all places. They had stayed behind, under cover of being too fascinated by the first snow falling softly behind the fogged-up window, while the others had gone on to crack beers and to destroy the remains of a birthday cake by the fireplace in the next room. When Olli had turned his head back to Aleksi – to comment on the beauty of the scenery or something else, Olli no longer remembered – his breath had caught in his throat when he had found Aleksi's blue eyes looking up at his as if he had just been caught doing something he was not supposed to, his red lips parted, and his hand a little too obvious in its effort to cover the... situation between his legs.

Despite the nearly eighty degrees surrounding them, Olli's skin had been on goosebumps and his breath trembling as he had struggled to control where his eyes travelled, to order them back up to Aleksi's face (as if that would've helped) or literally anywhere else. The thoughts of wrong and we shouldn't swarming in Olli's dizzy head had been muted the second Aleksi's warm hand had rested on Olli's bare thigh, its intentions as clear as the thin frozen cover on the lake by the cottage, and verily, Olli had gasped as if he had fallen through the ice into the frigid water when the hand had reached its destination in between Olli's legs at last. What had happened after that, Olli had blamed on the heat of the moment as much as that of the sauna, and despite having spent the entire rest of the song-writing weekend summoning up the memory of Aleksi's hand gripping his cock, of his own hand being covered in white pearls of Aleksi's cum, of Aleksi's lips on his lips and neck and fingers, he had still kept telling himself it wouldn't happen again.

He simply wouldn't allow it.

That was, until he had. In his defence, it's not like Aleksi had done much to prevent it either.

At least that time the tragedy had occurred far away from home, on their short trip to Germany for a promotion event for their record label – which didn't make it any less immoral, of course, no matter how many times Olli had tried convincing himself that whatever happens in Berlin, stays in Berlin.

No, that's Vegas, Niko had helpfully reminded him when Olli had slurred his worldly wisdom, to which he had kept hanging on ever since that night in a doomed attempt to assure himself that the fact it happened in a foreign country would somehow justify what they had done.

He had almost believed it too: almost, meaning not even a little bit, and that was essentially why Olli's articulation had been so thick and sloppy, although he had found no help for his despair in the bottom of his pint glass either. No matter where he had looked, his eyes had kept travelling back to Aleksi's, staring at him from the other end of the table, equally miserable as his own; no matter what Olli had tried to busy his mind with, his thoughts had always returned to the way, back in their hotel room, Aleksi had pushed him against the mattress and Olli had let him, or the way Olli had slid his hand under Aleksi's sweatshirt and inside his trousers and Aleksi had done nothing to stop him.

If drowning himself in some overpriced German airport beer had helped him get rid of the crippling guilt, he probably would've done that on the spot. Funnily enough, if only Aleksi had given him the word in the form of a nudge against his feet under the table or a gentle brush of his hand while waiting for boarding to start, Olli would've dragged him to the nearest restroom in a heartbeat, just to hear Aleksi panting in his ear again, to feel his hot, heavy breathing against his neck. Instead, they had sat in silence for the whole flight back home, their thighs warm and firm against each other, forced to touch in the limited space of the ecomony class, a constant, intolerable reminder of their sins from the other night.

Please don't let it go that far next time, he would've said to Aleksi, had he been sober and half as brave as he wished to be. Please don't let there be 'next time'. You've always been the stronger one of us.

Alas, Olli never knew if his pleas would've made any difference, for when he had travelled back to Helsinki two weeks later, he had found himself craving for the man's touch just as much as he had ever since they had gotten off that plane from Berlin, and judging by how tight Aleksi had been gripping on to the collar of Olli's shirt, Olli could tell he shared the sentiment.

There had been a new kind of desperation to their touches and to their silent moans as they had rubbed against each other on the couch in Aleksi's basement studio. Maybe it was because they hadn't spoken for days. Maybe it was because Aleksi's girlfriend was upstairs.

When Aleksi had come all over Olli's stomach, his eyes had welled with hopeless tears. Olli wanted to brush them away, but he had feared that would've only made matters worse.

"Fuck. Sorry," Aleksi had whispered with a trembling breath before getting off him. Olli hadn't needed to ask what Aleksi had been apologizing for; he understood it was complicated without Aleksi telling him so. He understood it perfectly well, in fact, having rolled around in bed night after night for the past weeks dwelling on the matter himself, cautious not to awaken the sleeping figure next to him.

The true tragedy was that by then, they had gone far past the point of a simple apology to be any good.

The next day, soaking his sorrows in a bottle of gin on Joonas' sofa, he had told his oldest childhood friend everything, because they didn't keep secrets between them and, well, because Joonas had asked.

"So it's true, huh? Fuck, I thought it was just Niko making things up again. You know, like that time he was convinced Joel had hooked up with that Italian guy, what's-his-name."

(Olli hadn't had the heart to tell him that Joel had, very much indeed, gotten intimate with that Italian guy, a little too loud in a cleaning closet with the door a little too open on a backstage corridor next to a vending machine that had eaten Olli's money once upon a time in Rotterdam, but that was a conversation for another drunken Thursday.)

"So, umm... does... does she know?"

Olli had shaken his head.

"Are you gonna tell her?"

Olli had been too busy practically inhaling the liquor in his bottle to answer. Not that he would've had an answer ready anyway.

"Is it... I mean... It's just sex, right? There's... nothing more to it, is there?"

That time, Olli had wanted to answer. He really, really had. But whatever would've come out of his mouth instead of the broken sob he had let out once the comforting burn of the alcohol had left his throat would've been a terrible lie, so maybe it was best he hadn't.

"Oh, Olli..." Joonas had whispered into his hair as he had wept against the soft, pink fabric of Joonas' hoodie. It had been little comfort to ease his pain, but at least he hadn't been back at Aleksi's making more poor judgements.

There'd be more opportunities for that, Olli was to find out, although they had agreed with solemn nods and lumps in their throats that they'd have to put an end to it before it would be too late. It seemed, however, that neither of them wanted to acknowledge it had been too late the very moment they had first kissed in Aleksi's sauna that snowy November night; Olli could only speak for himself, of course, but once he had had a taste of something he had until then only fantasized about – for longer than he was willing to admit – he had known there was no coming back. One look at Aleksi's lustful gaze on him when they pleasured each other was the only reassurement for Olli to believe he felt the same.

Lust. Olli could fool himself and say that was all that it was: carnal desire, instinctive, uncontrollable somehow, but was it lust you felt when your daily thoughts became consumed by this one person, their smell, their taste, their voice that even came to lure you in your sleep?

Olli knew what it was. He didn't dare say the word out loud though, ignoring how it was just another way to fool himself.

Come their spring tour, and Olli's head felt too heavy with thoughts to carry on his aching shoulders. Aleksi's tongue managed to empty it momentarily the way it emptied his balls, but sooner rather than later, his head was full of mixed messages again: ones that told him he had nothing but misery coming for him if he let this go on, others that asked him how something that felt so world-shatteringly good and right could be so wrong.

Maybe it's not wrong, Olli's post-handjob brain tried to reason, like it did each time these days. He knew he'd come to his senses (or what was left of them) soon after, but every time they had gotten together on that tour – which was almost every other night if they weren't too sleep-deprived or too busy hating themselves – Olli found himself believing it more and more. Maybe it's not wrong and we're just the victims of our circumstances, of having met other people before we met each other. Maybe we're right to touch and crave each other the way we do and it's the universe that's fucked us over for never even giving us a fair chance to see if we could be something.

And Olli really, truly wanted the two of them to be something; something more than hasty handjobs in backstage bathrooms or quiet, needy blowjobs at 3 AM in the tour van; something more than a mere fraction of the life they could never have, at least not without breaking some hearts first.

Olli almost felt his own shattering into pieces when Aleksi spoke to him in the dark of their hotel room.

"This is the last time. It has to be."

Perhaps it would've been more convincing if Aleksi's thumb hadn't been stroking his collarbone, or if he hadn't felt the softness of Aleksi's lips on his shoulder.

"I know," he said anyway, like he always did. He stared up at the ceiling until his eyes began to burn, so he closed them and focused on the gentle touch just above his chest. He set his breathing to the rhythm of Aleksi's thumb, forcing away the dread and regret, hopefully until morning.

"I just..." Aleksi paused to huff out a short exhale, with an undertone of frustration or perhaps even anger, "I just— I wish it... didn't have to be."

Olli opened his eyes again, only to find the ceiling even more blurry than the last time he had stared at it.

"I wish it didn't have to be like this. I wish I could... I wish we could..."

Olli couldn't force himself to speak and tell Aleksi that he, too, wished their situation was different, to tell him just how much he wanted him, so he silenced Aleksi with his lips and showed him.

He showed him, not with his words, but with the way his hands gently pushed Aleksi to his back. He showed him with his tongue that explored the insides of Aleksi's mouth and the smooth skin below his jawline. He showed him with his fingers that wrapped around Aleksi's erection, stroking his length while Olli's other fingers prepared him. He showed him with the way he moved inside him, slowly, tenderly, then faster, more desperate, until he lost himself completely in the feeling of Aleksi.

Aleksi's breaths came out short and fast, and Olli knew he was close. His thrust became more determined, less for his own pleasure than that of the man trembling under him when his orgasm hit him. Only then Olli allowed himself to let go as well, coming inside Aleksi, filling him, taking him.

Aleksi's eyes were glassy as he sunk his hand into Olli's hair and brought him in for a kiss to make up for all the ones that were cut short while they had been gasping for air. In those moments, when they were both weak and vulnerable, it was too easy to imagine this was exactly how it was supposed to be, or, the very least, where Olli wanted to be: their their bodies having become one with him still inside Aleksi, their sweaty skin sticking together, their tongues working in sync. He hoped it spoke more than any words he had left unsaid.

I want this. I want you.

#i wanted to read a particular kind of fic but couldn't find one so i wrote it myself. voilà ✨ #just so you know: this is devastating and awful and i told you i'm sorry. i wrote this mainly for me but you may read it as well 🙃 #truly one of those 'getting this out of my system' kinda fics lol #also one of those 'read between the lines' kinda thingies. because i just love writing those kinda thingies 💖 #i promise my next fic will be happier 😭 #random tumblr ficlets by theflyingfeeling #soon to be posted in the compilation i made for ao3 #ollixallu #blind channel rpf #blind channel fanfiction

[mysweetobsessions]

"Thank you... and fuck you" - Ted Lasso

Ted Lasso, 3x11

#couldn't find this anywhere so I made it #this was so important to me #thank you and fuck you #to all our parents #shoot tumblr got the last two backwards but i fixed it! #ted lasso #ted lasso season 3 #dottie lasso #ted lasso 3x11 #ted lasso 3.11 #ted x dottie #ted's mom #teds mom #ted lasso mom #ted lasso mom city

[captainsolocide]

solo talks about elementary part 3

a continuation of these posts. don't mind the four months between this and part 2 :) these points cover season 2

the good:

Mycroft is here! I was wondering if he was going to show up; with Holmes' father being in the picture in this adaptation, I thought they may have had him absorb Mycroft's role

Watson being a good detetcive on her own! Love that she's seen truly as Holmes' equal in their partnership; she has less experience, obviously, but she can still hold her own in a lot of these investigations

Watson starts to become a bit of a blindspot for Holmes in this season which is one of my absolute favorite tropes <3

the bad:

the first two items in my list for season two go like this:

please I'm begging you not to have Mycroft and Watson fuck please

goddammit

SERIOUSILY WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT

hated that plotline

Holmes says he prefers working with the cops 🤮🤮 babe please this isn't you

wayyyy too much focus on Mycroft, even outside of his stuff with Watson. genuinely could not give less of a shit about him in this adaptation

???

this is a new category I'm adding when certain themes or plots have both positives and negatives

for season two we have a couple, the first, which I'll reproduce from my phone notes verbatim is

I HATE HOW STUPID THEY'RE BEING ABOUT THEIR DESTINY YOU ARE IRREVOCABLY TIED TO EACH OTHER FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIVES AND THERE IS NOTHING EITHER OF YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT AND THE SOONER YOU REALIZE THAT THE BETTER

meaning of course that this is Holmes and Watson. this is Holmes and Watson. them trying to be normal and have a normal relationship is just. not how this works

on the one hand, and I can see how Watson not realizing this makes sense, and I can accept that.

on the other hand, Holmes is not supposed to fucking leave Watson to go work for the MI6??? hello???? he's supposed to know if no one else does??? surely he should've known that Watson moving out would've been temporary?

the only plus from this plot line is that I as the viewer knew it would have to end at some point

the other plot line that goes here is a little parallel I noticed, where season two almost acts as a pseudo-rechienbach

Mycroft fakes his death so a super evil criminal organization thinks he's dead and doesn't try to kill him; Holmes leaves Watson for an extended period of time, and gives no indication he's ever planning on returning; he leaves her a note telling her what happened; Watson moves out of the brownstone while resentment and hurt at Holmes' abandonment is left to stew

you can see the resemblance to the end of The Final Problem

I think this is really interesting if it was intentional because it does a couple of things

it leaves Moriarty for Holmes; she's not dead, and you can still have a big final showdown between them if you want (and I'm almost sure that'll happen at some point) but you don't have to do that right now. she gets to stay a part of the story, but you're still able to get to that point with Holmes and Watson without getting rid of her

Holmes doesn't lie to Watson. He doesn't tell her the whole truth, and he still up and leaves out of literally nowhere, but he doesn't lie to her. There's still hurt and a loss of trust, but you avoid the horribleness of making your best friend in the whole world believe you're dead and then coming back (on the other hand, if they do end up doing tfp properly and holmes fakes his death and doesn't tell watson... the fact that this whole thing already happened makes that soooo much worse. so. let's hope it doesn't)

Some reasons I didn't like this

because Holmes is not the one in danger, his reason for leaving is a lot less noble than his reason in tfp; Watson merely suggests the idea of her temporarily moving out and he loses his mind and flees the country. what are we doing here

one of the most heartbreaking parts of tfp is the note Holmes leaves Watson at Reichenbach. the note he leaves her at the end of season two? PATHETIC. where's the heart? there isn't even any attitude or anger, it's like two sentences telling her he got a new job and left.

#solo talks about elementary #cbs elementary #sherlock holmes #joan watson #shoutout to the tumblr tagging feature #couldn't find the first 2 parts from my account even when using the tag i specifically made up so i could find them. from my account