#him on his back and his belly up and vulnerable as you sweet talk him like a puppy <3

[chrollohearttags]

Helloooo

I tripped and accidentally spread my legs to ur blog🙈 But I was wondering if you could be prompted to write about Baby fever Eren? Wants a pretty lil baby with his pretty lil princess? Thank you love 💕

hiiii 🩷🫶🏾🫶🏾 well welcome 😭 I swearrrr, y’all must’ve known I’ve been missing my man. I can absolutely make that happen!

BUN IN THE OVEN

feat. heavy breeding kink, our sweet EJ + influencer (y/n), spreader bar, porn with no plot, mating press, nipple play, lots of sweet talk, daddy’s used

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══ ══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°

“Mmmmphm…can you take some out, pleaseee?..”

“Aww, but princess..you’re doing so good right now and you feel..so good. Please don’t make me stop..”

the consistent rutting and pounding ensued as you found yourself flat on your back..legs suspended midair and pulled apart with the assistance of a metal bar clasped around your ankles. Your wrists were also bound and dangling from the center. Quite an interesting and vulnerable situation you’d been put into. But you wouldn’t place this level of trust and submission into anyone other than your loving husband, EJ. Who had just returned from his tour..rather than lethargic from endless days of performing or suffering from treacherous jet lag, he was rather energetic. Mainly because the prospect of seeing you once he stepped foot from the plane was all the more worth it. But perhaps the most exciting part of coming back to you was getting to be one with his lady. In your absence, he missed you terribly. Your scent, your touch..your warmth. So much so, he wanted to always be a part of you, even when he couldn’t be around…which began his wheels to turning…

“ ‘Ren…baby..’m so close.”

“I know, baby. I know you are..and if you keep squeezing me like that, you’re gonna get all this nut. Just like you wanted, right? You do want another one, don’t you?”

see, Eren had been contemplating for a while on the subject of having children. It was something that the two of you had mulled over but ultimately decided it was for the best to wait. However, his mind had quickly changed when he saw you babysitting a friend’s toddler. He loved his natural and instinctively you cared for the child..how soft and nurturing you were. That’s when his mind and thoughts would wander farther onto the more salacious side!…imagine you with a cute baby bump. Full of his seed and carrying his baby..Eren often thought about how attractive you’d look with that swollen belly and of course, those already perky tits becoming plump because you’d be lactating. The thought often left him salivating and stroking himself in his hotel room whilst away from home. So now, he was atoning for lost time. Thrashing his cock into your tight little hole..the same one that clenched for him over the lens of a FaceTime call, begging for him to stuff it full when he got home..the one that squeezed your fingers tightly as you pumped them in and out, moaning his name. And now? It was the same one that’d give way to your aching womb; desperate to be bred. He’d feed you deep seeded strokes, glaring directly into your eyes with gentle coos ringing out in the form of sweet nothings. “Yes d-daddyyy..but I can’t—“ “..then let me handle it, princess..you gone look so fucking pretty with my baby inside of you..” the sheer thought causing his cock to twitch as it bottomed out inside of your womb. Consistently colliding with your thighs as that thick length sloshed around in that sloppy mixture; comprised of your juices and his previous loads. He had to ensure that you were good and full of his warm cum before he let up. You’d see the excited yet unrelenting glare on your man’s face and knew that you were in good hands. “You’re gonna look so beautiful—fuck..I can see it now..you gonna have my baby..let daddy get you all full? You want it?” Cooing to you with the single swipe across your lips and you had never felt more comfortable than you had in that moment. Despite the rough and rambunctious love making that you guys had just participated in, it was going to have the most delicate and precious result.

“Yes..I want it!..want to give you a baby.” That sweet answer was all he needed to persist and he wouldn’t leave until his goal was achieved and those lines popped positive.

“That’s all I wanted to hear, princess..all I needed. ‘M gonna get you pregnant. Even if it takes all night..”

#cherry’s asks 🍒 #nonnies 🍒🌹 #aot x black reader #eren x black fem!reader #aot au #musician x influencer au #black reader smut #missed my slutty faves #black fem reader #eren jaeger #eren jaeger x black reader #eren yeager #eren aot #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren smut #eren #eren x reader #aot smut #aot headcanons #black reader #snk smut #aot modern au #attack on titan #attack on titan smut #cw breeding #cw pregnancy #queued posts #scheduled post #anime smut

[pupkashi]

love comes easy when it’s gojo

a/n: what are you guys talking about chapter 236 ? the manga ended a while ago lol they’re all happy and safe ! don’t be silly guys >.< (I’m deep in denial no one hmu)

wordcount: 728

masterlist

loving satoru gojo was easy.

it was easy falling in love with him when you first began talking to him, stolen glances and flushed faces when either of you caught the other.

it came to you like second nature to play along with his jokes. your minds practically syncing up the second your eyes connected, silly grins on your faces as you both cracked dumb jokes.

there was something almost instinctive that had you intertwining your fingers with his, the tv on the show now background noise as satoru practically lay on top of you.

“what should we get for dinner?” you mumbled, half paying attention to the action on the screen, eyes landing on the mop of white hair in your lap.

satoru hummed, adjusting himself so that he was on his back and staring up at you, “want me to cook?” there was a smile playing on his lips as you pursed your lips at him.

“depends” you smile, “what is chef gojo gonna cook up for us tonight?” the smile on his face was evident now as he sat upright.

“maybe some instant ramen?” eyes glimmering as he speaks up again, “im feeling a bit fancy so how ‘bout i add an egg in there too.”

“an egg? you spoil me satoru,” you tease, watching as satoru pushes himself off the couch, stretching a bit. the bottom of his shirt lifts a bit and you catch his lower belly, smiling to yourself.

“oh but when you bend over i can’t whistle at you?” he pouts, catching the way you were practically giggling.

“satoru we were in a meeting with the higher ups,” you retort. the sorcerer only scoffs, mumbling something and heading into the kitchen.

it was easy to love satoru when he was carrying you out in the pouring rain, a cheesy love song blaring through his phone speakers in his pocket.

“dance with me!” his dimples peeking out and his eyes crinkling a bit as he laughed at your now soaked shirt.

you want to be angry, you want to scold him because he just got over the flu and this is gonna be terrible for him. but the small droplets of water collecting at the end of his white hair and sticking messily to his forehead make you keep your mouth shut.

you don’t say anything as you extend your arm out, giggling when he quickly pulls you into him by the waist, immediately pressing his lips onto yours, teeth hitting each other as the two of you burst into giggles.

“cyndi lauper is your go to?” you laugh, barely audible over the downpour surrounding the two of you.

“it was either her or whitney houston ” he smiles, turning his infinity on when he sees you shiver in the slightest, being sure to include you in it.

it was easy loving satoru gojo when he was shampooing your hair, kissing your shoulder and wrapping warm towels around you.

it was easy to fall deeper in love with him when the two of you are in bed, sweet nothings being interchanged between the two of you.

“i love you, angel boy,” you whisper, loving the way his cheeks grew pink, the grin on his lips growing as he nuzzled his face into the crook of his neck.

“i love you more, sweets” his voice is softer, more vulnerable, than usual. there’s nothing on his mind except you, and there’s nothing on yours except him.

it’s when the two of you are making breakfast together, movements flowing easily as he passes you the eggs and he plates the pancakes. when you’re both sitting way too close to each other on the huge couch in the living room, pillows and blankets surrounding the two of you.

when you hand each other things without even uttering a word. when you sit in rare silence with your lover, the comfort of each others presence being enough for the two of you.

when he’s bringing home flowers or you’re making him his favorite foods, when you’re blushing at his shower of compliments and he’s running away the second you call him handsome.

it’s in between laundry loads and making plans that you both realize how easy love comes to each other.

loving satoru gojo was easy, especially when you fell in love with him all over everyday.

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @4sat0ruu @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags @fushironi @nineooooo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @gojoshooter @sat6ru @luna0713hunter @torusmochi

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru drabble #gojo x reader #gojo satoru imagine #gojo satoru one shot #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru fanfic #satoru gojo one shot #satoru gojo headcanons #gojo satoru headcanons #satoru gojo fluff #gojou satoru x you #satoru gojo x reader fluff #satoru gojo drabble #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo fanfic #satoru gojo comfort #jjk x you #jjk Drabble #jujutsu kaisen drabble #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader fluff #gojo satoru x you

[r-rizzo]

dad jon snow headcanon with a targaryen!reader? i love that we have a new got writer and hotd! ♡

father's love. | jon snow

❝ pairing: jon snow x targaryen!reader.

❝ summary: what would jon snow be like having children with you, his beautiful dragon wife.

❝ warning: mentions of sex and innuendo, worried and scared jon.

❝ note: i really love the orders with targaryen!reader, thank you very much for leaving your request, i hope you leave one again and you like this. first post! ♡

★, when you tell jon that you're pregnant.

at first you had your doubts, you didn't know if it was just a delay or you were with a child.

but when you decided to approach your dragon and this approached, sniffed and caressed your belly, everything became clear to you.

you were with a child.

you had talked to him before about the children, his children. jon was insecure, he didn't want them to do to his child the same thing they did to him.

but you always assured him that his children would also be targaryens, they carried the blood of the dragon and the wolves, son of the king of the north.

jon smiled and took you by the waist, kissing you and affirming that having three children with you would be a blessing from the gods.

so at night, when you were already taking off your clothes to sleep, you feel familiar hands undoing the strings of your dress while leaving kisses on your neck, you know that it is now when you should tell him.

"jon" you called him, and you felt how his inner wolf wanted to come out. you only called him that in two situations, when you were angry or when you wanted to have sex.

"yes, my beautiful wife?" he asked with his thickest voice, knowing what he provoked in you, you laughed at how his breath crashed into your neck and his cold hands went into your bare back.

"we can't do this right now, my love" you tell him as you turn around and place your hands on his neck, massaging it. a small smile appears on your lips when you see his confused face.

"i did something wrong?" he asked and you laugh, shaking your head and watching your husband's eyes widen at his smile, admiring your beautiful purple eyes. "nothing wrong, sweet husband. it's just not appropriate when i'm with a baby" you finally said.

you watch as he opens his mouth to say something but closes it immediately, the information reaching his brain slowly. his hands become lighter on your waist and his eyes become even smaller and watery.

"are you sure?" he asks with a voice that shakes, but his hands travel smoothly to your still flat stomach. "i didn't believe it until rhaegon proved it to me, i trust my dragon's judgment" you answered him and smiled, jon wasted no time in gently cupping your face and kissing you, his hands now caressing your stomach.

"i'm the happiest man in westeros, we're going to have a little pup" he says and smiles at you, showing you his beautiful silver pearls. "he'll be a dragon" you tell him, but jon shakes his head, taking now by the waist and sitting on the bed.

he crouches before you and brings his face close to your stomach, kissing him "you're a wolf, aren't you? you make me the happiest man in the world, my little pup" you smile caressing his curls, letting him call your baby a puppy.

★, when your puppy is growing up.

jon loves to see how his puppy grows inside you every day and considers that seeing you in this condition is his greatest adoration.

shamelessly caress your belly or look at it affectionately when he doesn't have much time for you and his son.

but he's always watching you, he knows you're a fighter, but you carry his son inside, and now you're more vulnerable. he would kill whoever touched a single hair on you.

when he has all his time or puts his duties aside to pamper his wife and son, he can't stop adore you.

"you are beautiful" "our wolf grows healthy and strong thanks to you" "my beautiful wife" "i hope he has your dragon eyes" things like that are whispered in your ear while he caresses your belly and kisses your neck.

jon denies it sometimes, but he would love it if his son had your eyes and his dark hair.

but sometimes it scares him too, the thought of his son being called a bastard makes his blood boil. he can take it, but when it comes to his son, never.

he already has people under his eye who dared to call his son a bastard.

he also thinks about the names, he knows that he wants to name it ned or robb, you suggest combining it with a valyrian name. he likes them but ned and robb are always his first choices.

if it's a girl, he would like you to choose the name, he loves valyrian female names.

you have always loved your mother's name, rhaella, and he would like his daughter to be named after the woman who gave him the love of his life.

he is not very interested if it is a girl or a boy, it is his and he will love it, with his being.

jon tries to always be easy on you when he's stressed, he never blows up on you. he already knows how your emotions are and knows that making you cry is his worst sin.

so, when some assembly goes wrong and some lord insults him for not responding to his request, he just enters his chambers and sits behind you, feeling how his wolf kicks in response to his touch and smiling on your neck. he loves that feeling too much.

it also comforts you when something stresses you out or makes you cry.

like your impossibility of being able to give a dragon egg to your son.

you've always dreamed of being able to see your child grow up with a dragon, but thanks to the disappearance of dragons and the fact that both your dragon and your younger sister's dragon, daenerys, are male, it prevents you from fulfilling that wish.

what makes you cry frequently.

and jon is there to comfort you.

"then he will have a direwolf, my love. don't worry, i'm sure that rhaegon will let our son ride him one day" he says and makes you feel good.

when he sees you standing, looking out the window, he always stands behind you and puts his hands under your belly, lifting it up to give you a rest. you love when he does that, it makes you overflow with love for him.

"i love when you let my poor back rest" you say as you sigh and rest your head on your shoulder, jon chuckles and lets your huge belly droop again. "jon!" you moan angrily and he lifts your belly again.

he only plays, but loves to give you breaks and massages, especially on your feet.

he is always protecting you, especially when it is time to sleep.

he has nightmares about how while he sleeps next to you, someone walks into the room and hurts you. you and his little wolf.

he couldn't take the blame.

that is why, when you sleep, he is always the one closest to the door. his chest against yours while one of your legs is on his hip, or your back against his chest while his hands cup your tummy.

he would rather something happen to him than to you, his loving wife and mother of his child.

★, when the time of birth comes.

the last time you approached the maester, he told you that the arrival of the heir to the north would come soon.

you and jon were looking forward to your son. the heir to the north and the iron throne.

jon was sitting in the weirwood tree one morning, thinking more deeply about the birth.

and if you died? or did they make him choose between you and his son?

he couldn't.

he couldn't allow someone to mercilessly cut you open and murder you. not in front of him.

so he asked, begged to the gods for your life and for his son.

"please give my son an easy birth, no pain for my wife, don't take her away, always leave her with me. i ask you to take care of my beautiful wife and my son. i lost her once and i don't plan to lose her again."

and when he finished asking for you and his son, a wind raised his curls, relaxing him immediately.

he knew that the gods had heard him.

his peace was interrupted by your servant, who ran towards him with sweat on her forehead and blood on her dress and hands.

"the queen is giving birth" he said in a rush, jon getting up quickly from the log. "is she in our room?" he asked and the maid nodded, he didn't even let her answer when he started to run to his wife.

the closer he was to the room, the more his heart beat, he was scared. he was scared for you. he loved you so much that the idea of your death only brings his as a consequence.

when he enter the room, he was already crying.

"jon" you said when you saw him come in, you were pacing around the room, trying to ease the contractions, your water had already broken, it was only a little more to start labor.

he came up to you and kissed you on the forehead, he walked with you by the hand until the time will come.

he knew his child was coming when you had to lean on him in pain. with the help of the midwives, he lifted you onto the bed and sat behind you, leaving your back with his chest while the midwives made you push.

it was the easiest birth he had ever witnessed, it was only three pushes and his baby came out.

his son began to cry and his eyes filled with tears, he watched as the midwives lightly cleaned him. "he's a boy, your grace. healthy and strong, like a wolf" said one of them, putting your son in your arms.

"ned" you whispered, caressing his cheek with your finger, which was almost the size of his face. "he's small" jon said and you laughed "my little wolf" Jon took your hand in his, reaching both hands towards ned.

ned's eyes widened at his parents' touch, jon didn't expect his eyes to be unique to a targaryen. purple eyes and perfectly black hair, small curlers were already visible.

"he's beautiful, just like his mother," he said, kissing the side of your head many times. "thank you" he said "why?" you asked, turning to look at him as jon took your hand and kissed your palm "for giving me a family."

★, what jon would be like with his son.

at first, he was afraid to touch him, that it would break.

but after his son took his finger in his little hand, he couldn't stop carrying it. he loved his little son ned and his wife.

jon walks ned through the gardens every day or takes him on horseback, he wants him to adapt to the environment that is winterfell.

but you always fill him with clothes that jon sometimes thinks his son even sees what's going on around him.

he introduced him to everyone a few days after his birth, naming him "ned, heir of the north"

you and he agreed that he should sleep with you, there are people who would harm their little son at the cost of everything.

so jon usually sleeps shirtless because he knows his son loves physical contact, he lays it on his chest while he strokes his head.

he loves to see how you fill his hungry son, and sometimes finds it funny how he takes so desperately from your breast.

"he's like his father" he says as he looks over your shoulder as his son desperately eats.

he protects his son with his very life, be it from people or words. he will not let his child be harmed or insulted.

jon is a great warrior with a sword, he knows how to use it with great agility, so he just lets his son ned watch him fight.

thanks to this, when ned was older, you found him several times imitating his father, leading him to be a better sword wielder than him.

he loves his family more than anything in the world, and having children with you is the best thing he has.

so, very soon, you will have a child in your belly again.

masterlist | © vermithorider | do not steal, copy, publish my work without my consent, if you wish, ask and inform me about it, I am the one who should give you my permission.

#jon snow x reader #jon snow x targaryen!reader #jon snow #vermithorider #game of thrones x reader #targaryen!reader #jon snow x pregnant!reader #jon snow headcanon #jon snow imagine #jon snow one shots #jon snow stuff

[jollyfunvoid]

Bucci gang headcanons

Bruno Bucciarati

-Wes Andersson fan (his comfort movie is Grandhotel Budapest)

-fave era is roaring 20s (aesthetic & music wise)

-listens to electro swing, swing, jazz and blues

-has a very strong sweet tooth. His cravings are so extreme he is able to eat whole giant chocolate on one go and not gain a single kilogram. His favorite ice cream is stracciatella and his go to dessert is tiramisu. If you wanna bribe him, use sweets

-loves Golden Girls (Sofia is his favorite character)

-hardcore Eurovision fan, always prepares for the Eurovision weeks in advance, it's like a holiday for him

-brings small camera with him everywhere he goes, gets very emotional and sentimental when taking pictures, loves to keep all the memories

-shares an old record player with Abbacchio, they collects vinyl records together

-in charge of shared Netflix and Disney+ account

-has an ornamental lower back tattoo which matches the one he has on his chest. Has a lot of tattoos all over his body in general

-is very good at sailing and has a captain's licence. As a kid he used to be obsessed with pirates, he still lowkey fantasizes about life at sea

-surprisingly a very good dancer and hella skilled belly dancer. He is also very flexible

-Caterina Caselli number 1 fan

-drinks a lot of coffee, never starts a day without a cup of cappuccino

-obsessed with candles

-as a kid he used to build wooden ship models with his dad. Now as an adult he still does it sometimes, when he is not too busy

-bought himself a sewing machine because he is really into fashion and wanted to start making his own clothes. Isn't very good at it tho, his sewing skills are poor, so he always ends up zipping everything up with his stand and then acts like that's how the "sewn" piece is supposed to look like

-has a sweet melodic laugh

-extremely flirty, he is a snarky little shit who loves to tease others

-"Oh my god look at the sky! The colors are so beautifl!" *takes a picture* "And the clouds? Wow!" *takes another picture* "Guys, come look at the sunset!" *takes 20 more pictures*

-has a very low alcohol tolerance (3 glasses in and he is under the table)

-although he seems like a very well put together person, he is very messy and tends to misplace things, especially when he creates extra storage with zippers he can't find anything. He calls it "organized chaos"

-can easily sneak up on others, he just silently spawns out of nowhere. Is it his natural ability or is Sticky Fingers involved? No one knows

-is able to talk his way out of anything, uses his charm to his advantage a lot. Also the master of puppy eyes

-suffers from PTSD because of the attack on his father, that's why he always sleeps with a knife under his pillow. Everytime he hears noises in the middle on the night he gets paranoid that someone is hiding in or sneaking into his home with the intention of harming him and his love ones. When the panic attacks hit him really hard, he irrationally makes extra safety precautions, such as blocking doors with furniture or leaving the lights on. Also has trouble sleeping in unknown places because he feels vulnerable and exposed to potential dangers, he is always in a state of high alert.

-his favorite season is winter, he enjoys Christmas the most because he loves giving presents and being with his family. He definitely plays an old Ella Fitgerald vinyl records during Christmas time

Leone Abbacchio

-tea lover, his favorite is earl grey

-doesn't like sweets, however he enjoys dried fruit (especially figs)

-Narancia is his favorite kid

-movies enthusiast, has seen sooo many movies and is the biggest critic. He has a Letterboxd account where he writes reviews. Loves watching old horror movies the most because of the gothic aesthetic, but DC movies have a very special place in his heart

-hardcore Depeche Mode, Calabrese and London After Midnight fan

-goes jogging every morning

-after getting sober he tries to look after his diet more, thanks to Bruno

-knows a lot about occult stuff

-secretly watches RuPaul's drag race with Trish

-owns a motorcycle

-named his stand after Bruno's favorite music genre to honor everything Bruno has done for him

-takes very cold and brisk showers

-taught all the boys how to drive

-thanks to Mista he became a huge Gorillaz fan

-since Moody Blues doesn't have lips, she communicates with him via symbols on her digital forehead screen

-never puts down his headphones

-has a playlist for literally any occasion. Tends to gatekeep music, you have to be very special if he shows you his playlists. Has made a playlist for each member of the Bucci gang, the only one who knows is Bruno (Leone created him multiple playlists, they even have a shared one, which they play when they are alone)

-his skin is very prone to bruising

-Moody Blues also allows him to see fragments of the past when he touches various items, he is able to sense the overall vibe and emotions of their owner and the situation they were in while using the item.

-his clothes may be dark, but I know for a fact his socks and underwear are colorful af, wild patterns all over

-his favorite season is autumn, he loves rainy and foggy weather

-the biggest prankster of the group. Everyone thinks either Narancia or Mista are always responsible for the pranks, but it is actually Leone. No one ever suspects him, because he doesn't look like the type of guy who would enjoy such childish things. And thanks to his stoic appearance he always gets away with it.

-true crime podcast listener. Him and Fugo share this passion and often discuss their favorite podcast shows. Sometimes they watch detective movies together and bet on who will solve the mystery first

Pannacotta Fugo

-reads a lot of crime novels in his free time, always comes up with his own theories and tries to solve the case before the detective (got mistaken only once and couldn't get over it for a long time). His favorite author is Sebastian Fitzek

-loves watching cartoons and animated movies, because he didn't get to enjoy them as a child

-hates horror movies because of loud jumpscares, but doesn't mind gore

-drinking green tea helps him to calm down

-gets sunburnt easily

-either never gets ill, or is sick for several weeks straight

-developed not only respiratory, but also digestive problems because of Purpe Haze and feels nauseous a lot (also throws up very often)

-uses make up to cover his facial scars

-his skin is extremely dry

-has a very light sleep, he finds it extremely difficult to share room with others during missions (he is only able to fall asleep with either Bruno or Giorno because they are not noisy sleepers like the others)

-Sheila, Murolo and him have regular sleepovers and movie marathons. They also cook dinner together

-his favorite bands are System of a Down, Slipknot, Bad Omens and Motionless in White

-can't go on rides in amusement parks because he gets sick

-him and Abbacchio visit rage rooms regularly

-always carries a book with him

-chews a lot of bubblegum to release his anger

-everytime the gang travels abroad he is the one who has to translate everything since he knows many foreign languages. He speaks english, french, russian, spanish and norwegian fluently, his pronunciation is so spot on you could barely tell he is not a native speaker. Doesn't have an accent at all. Also knows basics of sign language and cyrillic alphabet. He uses these skills often in Italy too, when he gets approached by strangers on the streets he pretends he is a confused tourist who doesn't undertand italian

-gets overstimulated easily, he is especially sensitive to noises (suffers from misophonia)

-bites ice cream and ice

-"the book was better than the movie" type of person

-picky eater, very cautious with unfamiliar food

-takes extremely hot showers. Whenever he is in the bathroom it ends up looking like a sauna in there. Also the gang has an unwritten rule that if they share a room during a mission, Fugo can use the bathroom first because he hates feeling dirty and has to use the shower immediately, otherwise he will be grumpy and won't shut up about it

-has a nasty skin picking habit, which results in him picking patches of dry skin and scabbed-over cuts and scratches (many of his injuries never fully heal because of this)

-never leaves the house without a hand sanitizer

-fidgets with his hands a lot when he is anxious

-goes to bed first and also wakes up the first

Narancia Ghirga

-vegetarian

-convinced Abbacchio to watch Brooklyn 99 with him (although Leone didn't like it at first, they now binge watch it together). They also watched Breaking Bad and What We Do In The Shadows

-has heterochromia

-thinks Orange Capri Sun is the supreme flavor and refuses to drink any other flavor

-created a shared playlist for the squad, he blasts it everytime the gang travels somewhere (it mostly consist of EDM, trap, phonk and rap)

-always beats everyone in Just Dance game sessions

-wears mismatched socks

-somewhat good at drawing, has a very unique cartoon caricature-like style

-hardcore Marvel fan (loves Guardians of the Galaxy the most), argues with Abbacchio a lot because he likes DC

-Mista, Trish and him had a podcast at some point

-his favorite candy is Kinder Surprise

-makes paper airplanes when bored

-bites people he love

-cries when animal dies in a movie

-suffers from seasonal allergy

-sleeps with tiny Creeper and Enderman Minecraft plushies, he takes them everywhere and even made them an instagram account, where he shares random pictures of them. When someone from the gang goes on a separate mission, he gives one plushie to the group or the individual, so they wouldn't feel lonely. And they also take pictures of the plusie and send them to Narancia.

-speaking of Minecraft, he manages a server where the gang plays together. He even created custom skins for everyone which look like their stands. Since he is the only one without humanoid stand, his skin is Mr. Smith, the pilot or Aerosmith. He wears a jacket with a picture of his stand in the back

-he is afraid of doctors and doesn't like hospitals. Everytime he gets sick or injured, he gets very anxious about his health. He hates dentists the most.

-loves when Fugo reads to him because he has a very smooth audio-book-like voice when he is calm

-experimented with different hair dyes couple of times, Trish and Abbacchio helped him

-die hard South Park fan, quotes the show on daily basis

-steals everyone's clothes. Can't find a shirt? Narancia is wearing it. Your hoodie is missing? It's in Narancia's closet

-has sticky notes all over his room, because if he doesn't have something written down, he will most likely forget it

-surprisingly very strong, the only person from the gang he is not able to lift up is Leone

Giorno Giovanna

-his emotions effect his powers (different flowers grow around him or from his hair when he gets excited, angry or scared), however he manages to control and hide it well

-master builder in The Sims game; doesn't care about the gameplay as such, he just enjoys building the houses and spends hours decorating them. Fugo loves to join his gaming sessions, but he on the other hand doesn't care about the houses or decorations, his goal is to always kill as many sims as possible (he loves to play around with various gruesome mods, which Giorno secretly enjoys watching)

-walking cottage core moodboard aesthetic

-goes on a picnic at least 2 times a week. In general preferst to eat ouside, terrace or garden are his favorite places

-has a very complex skincare routine

-heist movies enthusiast

-Trish got him into astrology and tarot cards

-loves theatre and poetry, even tried to write some poems himself

-writes official Passione documents on typewriter

-installed beehives in the Passione mansion gardens and makes his own honey

-collects dried flowers

-is the best liar in the group

-a bug magnet, there is always some type of insect crawling on his clothes

-him and Fugo have library & bookshop dates, they also visit museums together and exchange random facts about nature. Nerds in love, what can I say

-caramel is his favorite ice cream and dessert toping

-has a small floral tattoo on his wrist

-autistic

-loves taking bubble baths

-takes part in any bet without hesitation, no matter how absurd it is

-very bad dancer, has no rythm, but he is the best singer from the group, his voice is angelic

-very rough driver; hits the breaks hard, pumps up the gas fast and does very sharp turns. Also drives hella fast

-learned how to differentiate the steps of other people (especially the fellow teammates, since they live together). This is an old habit from his childhood.

-he walks very quietly, others barely notice when he walks into a room or when he leaves

-hates the smell of cigarettes

-others think he has a very odd music taste, because he will be singing a song from a Disney movie and within a couple of minutes you can catch him vibing to Banshee. He is forbidden to play his music in the car because it consist of all kinds of genres it makes it almost uncomfortable to listen to. His fellow gang members say his playlists are inconsistent, but they just make sense to Giorno.

-speaking of music, he is a huge fan of Hozier, Die Antwoord, Ghostemane and Little Big

-very creative, his hobbies include all kinds of crafty ativities, such as sewing, embroidering, pottery making, felting, knitting, soap making, candle making…. you name it, if he can create something, he will. And he is very good at it

-extremely fascinated by venomous animals and poisonous plants. The deadlier the better. His obsession with killer plants led to him nicknaming Fugo "his aconito", because he associates the aconite flower with his stand (it disables nerves, lowers blood pressure, and can stop the heart, plus it's purple). His other favorite flowers associated with Fugo and Purple Haze are Nightshade, Love in a mist, Spider lily and Morning glory

-zones out a lot

-sleeps with dozens of pillows, when he sleeps he is literally burried under them

-when he gets overwhelmed he lights up an incense stick and it calms him down. He is very fond of nice smells.

Guido Mista

-enjoys shitty movies, especially buddy commedies and low budget rom coms. Abbacchio hates when Mista picks films for the movie nights. Bruno on the other hand loves it

-Adam Sandler number 1 fan

-signed up for an archery course, also tried to use crossbow at some point

-can fall asleep anywhere, snores very loud

-likes the weirdest food combinations (like ice cream and pickles and stuff), the type of person who eats fries with McFlurry

-kills bugs with Nerf guns, Giorno hates it

-plays airsoft and paintball in free time

-enjoys camping, rockclimbing and rafting. Outdoor activities are his thing

-hella superstitious, made up various rituals he repeats in order to avoid bad luck

-very religious, always says a prayer before every mission

-reggaeton is his favorite type of music

-idk why but him having diabetes makes so much sence, since Pistols have to eat regularly to keep his energy and sugar lvl. stable

-mayo is his go to dressing with everything (fries, hot dog, nachos...)

-him and Narancia have 1am fast food trips

-makes silly bets with others and always challenges them to do something stupid for money, Giorno is always the first one to participate

-the best hugger

-big brother energy, everytime the other teammates screw something up and are afraid to tell Bucciarati or Abbacchio, they go to Mista for advice. He is extremely responsible and can always keep his head clear in stressful situations

-claims to hate drama but is always down to listen to some fresh tea

-loves watching cooking competitions. He is always judging the contestants harder than Gordon Ramsay ever could, Abbacchio occasionally joins him because he finds it amusing

-whenever someone tells him "I love you" he replies "Ditto", referencing one of his favorite movies (Ghost, 1990)

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #vento aureo #golden wind #jjba part 5 #bruno bucciaratti #leone abbacchio #pannacotta fugo #narancia ghirga #giorno giovanna #guido mista #bucci gang #bucci gang headcanons #jjba headcanons #bruabba #fugio

[tojigasm]

Pregnancy kink with Jake???

Yessss anon omggg. He's be obsessed with not only the ideer of getting you knocked up but absolutely obsessed with you when you get pregnant too... my gawd

He's too sweet on you, you've decided.

Kissing the swell of your tummy and massaging your back when it's sore.

Hes always so quick to deliver any food of your craving and never bothered by the way you wake up at ungodly hours and nestle into him until sleep finds you once again.

Hes into it, you've decided.

And the more you think about it, the more you notice it.

The way his amber eyes linger on your form as you wade in the river near your home, belly submerged in the cool water.

The way his rough hands caress the taught skin of your belly, pressing kisses up and down the rise of it, whispering how beautiful you look.

The way he can only ever talk to the scientists who come and look over you occasionally about how he can't wait for next baby.

The way his tail waves side to side when you rest a hand beneath your middle, stroking the underside of it while threading grass blades.

The way he nearly chokes when you tell him your breasts are too swollen and that rubbing them doesn't do anything for you – so of course he offers his help.

The way his cock swells when he just thinks about you. Thinks about how you're carrying his kid and how you look so absolutely hot doing it.

A part of him is too nervous to say anything, too afraid that you might think it's weird he's attracted to you while you're in such a sensitive and vulnerable state.

While the other half wants you to know how goddamn hard he's trying not to pull your plush little thighs over his thick shoulders and run his big hands over your belly while he fucks you.

It's at late evening when the two of you are finishing dinner and settling into the heat of your large hammock when Jake makes his way over to your seated form.

running a hand over your head and rubbing at your ears gently as he sits down behind you, pressing his chest to your soft back as both his hands round the swell of your belly.

"You're so pretty," he kisses the back of your head, "y'know that, sweetheart?"

you hum against him, leaning back to rest your head against his shoulder.

Jake lets his hands run along the taught skin of your middle, thumbs circling gently, gradually making his way past your loincloth to run the rough pad of his thumb up along your clit softly.

your breath hitches, grabbing his forearm as he presses a finger into your heat, working you open.

"Shh," he kisses your temple, other hand massaging the underside of your middle, "Gonna let daddy fuck you?"

shivering, you nod against him, pressing yourself into him with a whine when he adds another finger past your soaked folds.

"Words, pretty girl," he nips at your jaw with a smirk.

"Yes, daddy," your ears fall flat against your hair, "want it, please," you reach back to paw at his length.

Jake pulls away at that, standing up as you whine at the loss of him.

"Lie down, sweet thing," he cooes, helping you to lay comfortably against the thatched matt, a thick pillow pushed beneath your head.

Jake kneeled beside you, pressing his fingers back into your heat, running them along your wet walls as you moan beneath him.

his thumb strokes the hood of your clit and you sob, grasping at his forearm with a shivered moan.

Jake chuckles softly, "feels good, huh?" he smiles at you, repeating the action again and your back arches lightly, thighs pressing together with a keen.

"Keep 'em open." he pushes your thighs apart and you push them back together to which Jake taps your knee gently, cupping your chin with his free hand, "Hey," his voice is deep yet soft, "be good fr'me, 'kay?" he moves to run his thumb along your bottom lip when you nod, letting you suck on the pad of it softly.

Jake groans at that, continuing to work you open ti'll he decides you've relaxed enough. He pulls his hand from your pussy to lick your juices from his digits, moaning at your taste.

The sight alone sends heat to your core and your eyes go lidded with lust.

Amber eyes meet your own and Jake smirks, his chin glistening against the light of the fire from your juices and you swear you could cum at just that.

"You ready, sweetie?' Jake positions himself over you, pulling your thighs up to rest over his thighs as he squats above your smaller form.

"Yes, daddy," you sob, "please," you beg, pulling your plush bottom lip between your teeth with a shiver.

"Good girl," Jake purrs, pressing the swollen tip of his cock against your heat, "Daddy's gonna go slow, m'kay?"

you nod, watching as he sinks the girthy length of his cock into your heat.

Your head falls back with a moan, reaching your hands to grasp at his ankles, running your fingers over the beads of the anklet you'd made him.

Jake swears from above you, sinking to the hilt inside of your tight cunt, "fuck, how do you get tighter every. fucking. time-" he punctuates with a few soft thrusts.

his balls tap the underside of your ass as he does so and you squeal, giggling at the touch.

"feels so good, daddy," you moan, reaching for him.

Jake lowers himself, kneeling as he ruts into you, keeping your leg in the air over his thigh.

He reaches down to run his hand along your swollen middle, caressing your skin. "Fuck," he keens, "look so fuckin' pretty carryin' my kid, sweetheart."

Something about the way he says it makes you absolutely sob, breath hitching with a moan as you clench around his swollen length.

His cock stretches against your gummy walls, fat tip grazing your g-spot with every thrust.

Jake keeps a hand on the cusp of your calf, his eyes meeting your own as he presses a kiss to the inside of your ankle, holding position there as he fucks into you.

"Daddy can feel you squeezin', baby," he leans down to rest his forearm over your middle, holding you in place as he thrusts deeper into you.

"Daddy, fuck!" you sob, tears pooling over your hot cheeks whne he grinds his hips against the plush of your ass.

"I know, I know, honey," Jake pulls back to move you into a mating press, the backs of your thighs slick against his chest as he sinks back into you.

"Oh-" you gasp, "daddy s'too deep," your voice warbles and your tail wraps itself around Jakes ankle as he presses himself onto his feet, fucking into you again.

"Shit," his head drops as he circles his hips, watching his cock slip in and out of your tight cunt, "M'gonna cum," Jake picks his head up to kiss at the top of your belly.

Pressing himself into you, his chest rests against the soft of your own and you cry when he fills you, his hot cum spilling into your slick with a guttural groan.

Jake gives a few weak thrusts before pulling out of you to watch his cum dribble from your soaked folds. "Jesus, fuckin' Christ, look at that," he spreads the lips of your pussy, scooping his cum back into you.

you giggle softly, tail wisps against the mat softly, biting at the tip of your finger as Jake merely watches you.

he smiles warmly when you go to move from off your back, helping you do so. he lets you rest against his chest, stroking the insides of your thighs with one hand while he feeds you fruit with the other.

The two of you end up falling asleep like that, your tails linked together and Jake's hand covering your round middle and his arm resting beneath your head.

When he wakes, he slips his arm out from under you, propping himself up to run his fingers along your waist and up to your shoulder, whispering how much he loves you into the soft morning air.

#jake sully #jake sully smut #jake sully x reader #avatar smut #dilf jake sully

[auteurdelabre]

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

part one / part two

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

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

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

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

dividers by @silkholland

A LITTLE SUN

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

"What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Wish I could feel him moving."

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

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

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

“I said I am.”

“I never see you with it.”

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

“Yeah, I do.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dieter.”

“What?”

“What are you anxious about?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

By four months you need to fuck something.

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

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

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

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

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

"Can we talk?"

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

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

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

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

"What's that?'

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

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

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

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

"A hook-up?"

"Yeah."

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

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

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

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

“Well I don’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

"What?"

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

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

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

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

///

BabiEDucate

15 weeks

Cravings: DICK. Also pickles - Related?

Missing: SEX. GETTING FUCKED.

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

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

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

Plus there’s the whole Dieter thing.

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

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

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

“Sounds great,” you nod.

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

“I’ll see you tomorrow at seven.”

///

Everything you own is ugly.

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

All this work just to get laid.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, lets,” Josh says smiling eagerly.

There we go.

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

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

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

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

Daddy? Ugh. Mood killer.

"You gonna-"

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

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

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

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

"What were you thinking?"

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

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

“Agreement? You mean order!”

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

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

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

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

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

"Why?"

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

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

"Yes."

"Because of the baby?"

"Because- wait, what?"

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

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

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

"Oh," Mia nods.

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

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

Dieter shrugs, smiling softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s turned on out of his mind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Then I'll-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We did it before," Dieter reasons. 

"We don't even remember it."

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure.”

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

Fucking hormones.

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

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

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

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

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

“Want popcorn?”

“Nah, I’m okay.”

“Tea?”

“No I’m fine. Do you want tea?”

“No, I’m good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t pull away.

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

Why isn’t he kissing me?

You want him to kiss you.

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

You need to make the first move.

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

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

Fuck he kisses well.

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

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

"Need you to fuck me hard, Bravo."

"Anything you want."

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

"Mhmmm."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What're you-"

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

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

"You don't have to-"

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

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

"Fuck!"

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

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

“Dieter anyone could see.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you're not that to him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He's fucking insatiable.

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

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

"I need you to come on my tongue."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You ready?"

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

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

"You're clean?"

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

“S’not like I can get more pregnant.”

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

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

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

"You want me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Holy fuck." 

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

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

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

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

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

"Uh huh."

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

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

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

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

"Does that usually work?"

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

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

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

You see the sheepish look cross his features. 

"Why say it?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You gonna soak my cock, baby?"

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

"Yeah you are," he says with affection. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just stay a moment.”

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

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

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

"He's gonna be a Saggitarius."

"Huh?"

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

"So?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not your baby. Stop thinking like that. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cravings

bananas

pizza

pretzels

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

Missing

personal space

sushi

not barfing 

Baby is size of turnip.

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

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

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

“What?”

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

“A surprise?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Green?”

“Yep.”

“The fuck?”

“That’s all you get.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jameson.”

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

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

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

"Are you serious?"

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

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

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

"Dieter, I can't even drink."

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

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

"But-"

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

"Yes ma'am."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Aye, as it should be."

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

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

"None for me, thanks."

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

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

Peter is immediately all smiles, looking at your stomach.

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

And last. 

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

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

"Thank you."

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

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

Refreshing.

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

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

"Did you really need sixteen bottles D?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where?”

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

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

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

He’s going to buy drugs.

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

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

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

“You are unbelievable.”

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

“Huh? Why?”

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

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

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

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

“No.”

“Dieter.”

“I don’t want to.”

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

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

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

“I don’t believe you.”

“Why?”

“Because I know you.”

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

“What is this?”

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

It’s a ring.

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

"You bought me a ring?"

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

“Why?”

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

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

Dieters smile flickers briefly. 

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

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

“I’m sorry, Dieter.”

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

///

19 weeks personal diary entry [D.Bravo]

Baby Name Ideas

Alex

Victor

Francisca

Penelope

Javiera

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gonna soak my cock, baby?

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

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

"Cut."

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

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

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

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

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

"Uh huh."

"Have you eaten?"

"I will later." 

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

"Eat." 

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

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

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

“But lunch –“

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

You hear a knock on his trailer door.

"Mister Bravo? Your needed on set."

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

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

“Sure.”

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

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

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

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

"Run these with me?"

"Of course."

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

“No feedback?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yes, fuck yes please.

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

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

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

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

"Fuck, I didn't-"

"Talent to set."

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

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

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

"You want me throwing with right or left?"

"Can you do left?"

"Yep."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Really?"

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

"Is he single?"

You blink. "I think so, yeah."

"Do you think I'm his type?"

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

"But?"

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

You trail off thoughtfully a moment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're on something."

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

“Dieter!”

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

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

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

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

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

"I do!"

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

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

"Tell me!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

His large eyes are so hopeful staring up at you.

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

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

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

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

Fuck what am I gonna do?!

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

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

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

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

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

 [6:58 pm] JOSH:Yep. Now good?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Go away."

"Dieter?"

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

"Can I come in?"

What the hell.

"Yeah. Sure."

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

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

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

Dieter throws himself dramatically back onto the bed.

"You're not."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Really?"

"Really."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Got carried away."

"I liked it."

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

"It's not."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's what you wanted.

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

Except now you sort of miss Dieter.

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

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

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

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

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

You look pregnant.

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

Holy shit. There's a baby in there.

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

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

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

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

"Why are you home so early?"

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

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

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

"Fuck, he's really in there."

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

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

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

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

"Mmm."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, why?"

"You just look upset.”

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

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

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

"She likes kids," Dieter adds. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Right."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You okay?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Dieter what-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

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

"Okay, go." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You've got this," you whisper. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What the fuck?"

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

You raise your brows at him. 

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

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

"Huh? How are fake sunglasses a gift?"

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

"I thought you used TikTok all the time?"

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

"Yeah."

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

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

"Fuck, now there's a cowboy hat!" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smirk to yourself. Your check in code.

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

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

Your mother picks up on the second ring. 

"Hi honey."

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

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

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

"Why wouldn't I be?"

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

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

"Right."

"Are you lighting a candle?"

"I will tonight." 

"Good."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They look so... close.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Holy shit the way he looks at her. 

I heard he's dating some guy in Germany

How old is she?

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

You can't tell me he's not smitten

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

He looks so hawt there

It's giving soulmates

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

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

Get urself a guy who looks at you like that

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

I love him your honor.

They're clearly fucking

She dresses like shit

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

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

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

Stop it stop it stop it.

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

“Hey you in there?”

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

“Hey are you okay?”

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

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

“What’s going on? You okay?”

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

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

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

“Fuck, I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No...I...."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Okay."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What does that matter?”

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

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

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

“Wait, can’t we talk about this?”

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

Dieter feels as if he’s been slapped.

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

“You want me to go?”

“You should.”

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

[Personal Diary D. Bravo – 21 weeks]

Places I want to take Baby Bravo

Chile (show him where I grew up)

Disneyland (when he’s old enough)

London: maybe he’ll get an accent

Fiji – mini island (no paps)

Places I want to take her

Chile

Hawaii –

Buenos Aires (teach her tango)

Italy (she loves pizza)

Anywhere she wants

Today Dieter is filming in Powerscourt.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’ll work around your schedule.”

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

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

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

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

You can’t watch this.

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

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

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

[l0v3tast3]

midnight smut w toji after he comes home from work?🙈

i thank you, anon, from the bottom of my heart for requesting this. this was a very fun one to write (─‿‿─) i hope you like it!!! <3

✎ tags: mdni!, smut, female reader, somnophilia (consensual), dom!toji, size difference, size kink, abuse of pet names, oral sex (f receiving), soft!toji but turns into mean!toji, overstimulation, degradation, choking, dacryphilia, spit kink, excessive dirty talk

✎ word count: 2.6k words (not proofread)

masterlist | requests

✧ ˖ ° toji knows his pretty little girlfriend doesn't like when he works late, but if he was being honest, he loves it. not the part where he has to work, but the part after that, when he comes home to you curled up on his side of the bed, face buried in his pillow while some netflix show plays quietly on your laptop.

✧ ˖ ° he pads silently past your sleeping form and into the shower. it's brief, as quick as he can be; he wants to feel the heat of your skin, not of the water that turns brackish red as it floods off of him. he barely bothers to dry himself off, just enough that you won't complain about the bed getting soaked (from water, at least), and disregards getting dressed completely. the clothes would have been off again soon anyways.

✧ ˖ ° with the laptop shut and placed on your nightstand, toji doesn't waste a second in getting his hands on you. he's gentle at first, like always, wanting you to know he would take care of you, even when he was ruining you. his hand traces the curves and accents of your face lightly, from your eyebrows to your cheekbones to your lips. the vanilla chapstick you always put on before bed smears with his thumb; he'd be kissing it off soon anyways.

✧ ˖ ° the blanket is edged off of you and toji slowly spreads your legs wide enough to wedge his broad figure in between. his calloused hands run up your smooth skin until they're at your hips, raising up toji's t-shirt that engulfs you so the lecherous grin can spread at the sight of your bare cunt.

✧ ˖ ° "such a sweet girl f'me," he mutters under his breath, rubbing soft circles into the tops of your thighs where his thumbs reached, his fingers engulfing toji's favorite part of you to stare at. it's a sight that he's certain he'll never grow bored of, seeing you bare and waiting for him, seeing how tiny and vulnerable you were under him. he ignores his cock that's been aching since before he even got home in favor of appreciating the moment.

✧ ˖ ° it's kept brief as toji brings his hands back down under your knees to lift your limp legs over his shoulders as he lays on his stomach. he's nearly drooling as his mouth hovers over your cunt. one hand spreads over your lower belly while the other locks over your plush thigh before he's licking a stripe over your slit. a low groan rolls out of his throat; you were already soaked. were you touching yourself before you fell asleep? that must be why your underwear is lying on the floor next to you.

✧ ˖ ° he's lapping at your cunt, replacing all your wetness with his spit. toji never cares about how messy he gets. he prefers it that way; it makes the noises of his cock drilling in and out of you louder. every drop that leaks from you is swallowed greedily, tongue prodding at your tiny hole, forcing itself in past your tight entrance until he retracts with a huff of a laugh. "always so fuckin' tight when ya fall asleep," he whispers, mostly to himself, his smile only dropping when he starts his onslaught of your clit.

✧ ˖ ° the hand on your thigh dips down so he can stuff his middle and ring fingers into you. toji's tongue moves in languid circles around the bundle of nerves while he drags the digits in and out, working you open so he doesn't hurt you too much.

✧ ˖ ° you're stirring by now, breaths coming out sharper and more ragged, hands searching for the disturbance of your rest. they find purchase in his damp hair and on his back as your eyes blink open hazily. "mmn, toji?" you rasp, swallowing hard and almost choking when he buries his fingers to his knuckles. his tongue swipes roughly over your clit just to feel your hips jerk under him before he turns his head to plant a wet kiss on your thigh.

✧ ˖ ° "'morning, pretty girl. how'd you sleep?" toji asks with a teasing lilt. you don't get the chance to answer; his mouth is latched back onto your cunt as soon as he's done speaking.

✧ ˖ ° you can barely process the heat already half-built in the pit of your stomach, already spreading to make your legs twitch and tremble, to make your nails dig into his skin and tug at his hair. the daze of sleep still fogs your brain, making you unable to form the words to tell toji you were already about to cum.

✧ ˖ ° he knows, of course. he'd felt your cunt around his fingers, his tongue, his cock too many times to not have the squeeze of your walls memorized. toji knows how to toy with your body as easily as he did his weapons. he knows that when he adds a third finger to the ones pumping more steadily now and sucks on your clit just a little harder you'll cum, so that's just what he does.

✧ ˖ ° the fire that had been built quicker than you could realize takes over your whole body; you can't think, can't breathe, paralyzed by the blinding pleasure toji so eagerly gives you. he's drinking every drop of cum you gush out, moaning into your pussy, mumbling mostly to himself how sweet you were, how hungry he'd been all day, how happy he was to finally be home. a gasped moan forces it's way out of you as soon as your lungs are able to move again. your grip tightens on him when he continues as you come down, but your whine seems to get through to him and he draws away, sucking his dripping-wet fingers clean as soon as he takes them out of you.

✧ ˖ ° toji's raining kisses on your thighs, the hand that was just keeping your arching back down rubbing across your stomach and between your breasts. it moves up to cup your face as his mouth trails after it, making you giggle softly when his lips tickle your jaw. he can see how heavy your eyelids are as the fog thickens in your head again, how you can barely keep your arms lifted to run your hands over his neck and through his hair.

✧ ˖ ° "hmm, did such a good job f'me, sweetheart. ya look tired now, princess, d'ya wanna go back to sleep?" he murmurs as he hovers over you, taking in your dreamy expression with hooded eyes. you nod absently with a hum as you nuzzle the side of your face into his hand; your limbs were just so heavy, so drained of any energy you may have had. if someone asked, toji would say that of course he feels bad about how he's about to twist the adorable look on you, but the sadistic smile that you're too semi-conscious to notice says otherwise. "go back to sleep, pretty girl, it's alright," he coos.

✧ ˖ ° your hands are nearly slipping away from him while he spits into his hand, rubbing it over his rock-hard dick along with your slick still covering him to his wrist and the pre-cum leaking out steadily. just the feeling of your tight entrance as he lines up his tip is a relief to him, melting whatever is left of the tension in his muscles. toji takes one last look at you dozing off, the hand still cupping your face moving down to wrap around your neck, fingers nearly touching without applying any pressure. then he shoves his cock halfway into you.

✧ ˖ ° the air is forced out of both toji's and your lungs, yours in a sharp gasp, his in a moan of pure bliss. the spasms of your walls as your dumbed-down brain tries to catch up make him go mad, sweating at the effort it took to not completely ram into you. he's panting over you, nose-to-nose as he grins and laughs breathily at the state you're in.

✧ ˖ ° you're held down from completely arching off of the bed by the hand still on your neck, mouth falling open in a silent cry as your eyes fly open. toji hadn't been kidding; you're always so tight when you fall asleep, cramped walls making his self-control break down by the millisecond and making you already feel stuffed full. the sting that always follows after he drives into you has tears pricking the corner of your eyes, and toji coos down at you again, his mocking tone much more blatant.

✧ ˖ ° "hah, pretty little baby still too tired to say anything? too dumb from half my dick? don't worry, princess, we'll make the rest of it fit. always find a way, don't we?" you're holding onto the arm connected to your throat and your legs wrap around his hips as tight as they can as a desperate way to ground yourself as your brain goes haywire. toji keeps pushing his hips forward, bullying his length further and further into you, talking you through it all. "almost there doll, doin' so good f' me- shit, so fuckin' tight. you love when i wake you up like this, don't ya? yeah ya do, you love being my little fucktoy. you love when i use you whenever i want, right? right, princess?"

✧ ˖ ° it's all so much, he overpowers every one of your senses, taking over your body by flooding it with sweet pain and hot pleasure. you can barely hear what he's saying over his dick emptying your head, much less able to respond to him. but you try, you try to make your head nod up and down, try to push out anything other than whimpers and muddled moans, but toji shoves the last couple of inches into you just as you're about to.

✧ ˖ ° a mix of a taunting laugh and drawn-out moan come from him as your chest presses up against his, teary eyes widening as you cry out, nails digging into whatever skin of his you can reach to leave welting lines that make toji so happy to see in the mirror. you're so completely full; every time toji bottoms out in you feels like the first time, but when he has you like this, your body still so sensitive from your rest and cumming just a couple of minutes ago, it's so much more.

✧ ˖ ° "ple-ease- ple- toji, ah! wai- nngh!" your vocal chords finally catch up as he starts grinding his hips down against yours in the way he knows drives you crazy. the mess of pleas you whine between gasps are just fuel for the sick smile to spread further across his face; this is exactly what he needed after a long, hard day at work.

✧ ˖ ° "awh, poor little girl, is it too much? mm, it is? that's too bad, sweetie. you're gonna take it anyways. i know you can, you are my good little whore, aren't you? yeah ya are." the tears that had been threatening to spill finally do as he starts slowly dragging his thick cock out until just his tip remains and pushing back in and he laughs again, still hovering face-to-face with you. toji's tongue laps up the salty water, drinking it gleefully. "don't cry, princess, you're takin' it so well, see? my big dick's fittin' allll the way in- fuck- pussy's grippin' me so hard, don't wanna let go of me, do ya? don't worry, gonna keep ya on my cock 'til morning."

✧ ˖ ° he's slowly picking up the speed of his thrusts, gradually enough that you don't even realize until your eyes are rolling up into your skull, body jolting as he keeps you in place with the hand still locked around your neck. you're clinging onto him for dear life as he's smacking his hips against yours, heavy balls slapping against your ass wetly. obscene sounds of your sexes meeting fill the room just as the smell of it has; it's so loud, you and toji are both so loud that you're sure the entire street can hear you. neither of you care (toji hopes they can all hear how good he's fucking you).

✧ ˖ ° when you're able to open your eyes again toji is still there above you, watching your every expression with a look that speaks for how much his ego is being fed. he's right there, practically nose-to-nose with you, and all you want to do is press your lips to his, swallow his gravelly groans and briefly stop the words flooding from his mouth that filled your head like cotton. except he won't let you move; tilting your head up only serves to make you cut off your own air against his palm as he leans his head back just out of reach.

✧ ˖ ° his hooded eyes and cocky grin shows you how much he loves how easily he can have control over you. toji loves feeling your dainty neck strain against his hand, loves watching how desperate you are to kiss him, loves how you jerk and writhe under him and hearing how you whine. instead of giving into you, his hand slides up to grip your jaw, fingers digging into your cheeks just enough to open your mouth. your tongue hangs out as he lets his do the same, dripping trails of spit down for you to swallow between pants.

✧ ˖ ° "fuuuck, such a good slut, all f' me. you love being my slut, right princess? i know ya do, don't even hav'ta say it." toji gives a particularly harsh thrust, chuckling when you whimper as he stops to sit up. knees pushing under your back to lift your lower body, he takes your legs and presses them against your chest to fold you in half. as soon as he's got you how he wants you, his hips are snapping back against yours again and you wail.

✧ ˖ ° the fact of how sore you'll be come morning is disregarded quickly as you melt into a boneless puddle under him. you can't do anything except weakly claw at the sheets while he holds you down by your legs, toji's fat cock digging deep to hit every spot there was inside you. "already gonna cum again, huh? gettin' even fuckin' tighter around me, god! wanna cum, doll? c'mon, tell me. you can do it, sweetie, you were just bein' a good girl f' me- hah- where'd that go?"

✧ ˖ ° you're looking up at him, fighting to keep your eyes open and to try to form words, any words that could tell him what you wanted. it was just difficult with how unrelentingly he was filling you over and over and over again. you felt like toji was quicksand that you were sinking into, enveloping you completely and suffocating you in the best way possible.

✧ ˖ ° "haa- please-! pl- ah! i wan-" was all it took from you for him to bury himself completely in you and start grinding down again. a thumb comes down to rub hard against your clit and your body goes numb, stock-still save for your eyes rolling back. the words he's still saying are muddled, as if you're underwater.

✧ ˖ ° "...-gotta wake up, princess. there she is! fucked ya too good, hah! rude of ya to pass out on me like that, little girl. i still haven't cum yet."

#jujutsu kaisen #toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x female reader #reader insert #toji fushiguro smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #cw somno #— lilly writes! ♡

[farity]

Rage

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x reader

Summary:  Aemond is not having a good day, until . . . 

Warning: Smut

You ran down the corridors of the keep, having heard the latest news from the battle.  Ser Otto had gone against Aemond’s recommendations and the result had been a total and complete defeat.  The two men had yelled at each other and Aemond had stormed out despite his grandfather deferring to him for the next battle.  

You knew he’d be angry.

The door to your shared chambers was closed but not locked, and you opened it softly.  Aemond sat by the hearth, tapping his fingers on the arm rest, and he turned when he heard you come in.

“Husband.”

He said nothing, simply turned back to the fire.

Aemond wasn’t one to take his frustrations out on you, he didn’t speak to you harshly or treat you badly because something hadn’t gone his way or when he had argued with someone.  But he tended to get quiet and distant, and you would not have it.

“It would be wise for you to leave.”

His voice was as gentle as you’d ever heard it, and you knew it meant he was in as bad of a mood as you had ever seen him.

You went to the small table behind him and poured some wine in a cup, took a sip.  “Would you like some wine?”

The tapping stopped, and he was very still for a few moments.  

“You need to leave, wife.”

You steadied yourself, took another sip.  “No.”

“You would defy me.”

“I would not leave you to your anger.”

The chair fell sideways as he stood and turned, so quickly, you jerked back, spilling some of the wine on your cuff.  

“I left anger behind an hour ago, sweet, sweet wife.”  His eye had darkened and there were slashes of color on his usually pale cheeks.  

You took a step toward him, “well then, let us talk about what-”

He reached out and grabbed you, your cup falling to the floor, and you found yourself pressed against him.  His mouth was punishing on yours, demanding and taking full access to the sweet warmth of your own.  One hand tightened on your hair while the other cupped your ass.  You could feel him against your belly, already hard as steel.

As always, you melted against him, your arms going around his neck.  Your arranged marriage had quickly turned into a passionate union, surprising you more than anyone.  With you, Aemond found that he could let his guard down, could trust you with the vulnerability he kept so well hidden from everyone else.  With him, you could unleash the vibrant liveliness you had kept quiet growing up as the oldest daughter of your house and the unladylike desire for knowledge that had always been tamped down by your parents.  

You heard the sound of fabric tearing and then felt the back of your gown give way.  Aemond turned you around and finished ripping open the dress until he could shove it down to pool at your feet.  You quickly kicked it aside and then kicked off your slippers, leaving you in your cream silk stockings and small clothes.

When he lifted you in his arms, you wrapped your legs around his slim waist, taking his face in your hands so you could kiss him again.  You felt yourself being dropped onto the bed you shared and then he was pulling off your small clothes and stockings, tearing the delicate garments.

You had lots more, you thought.

When he drove into you, filling you completely, you arched your back.  “Yes,” you hissed, looking at him as he gripped your hips and began snapping his own.  “Fuck, yes.”

“So hot for me,” he muttered, “so wet for me.”

You moaned at the press of his fingers on your flesh, already imagining the bruises that would appear later.  He would kiss each and every single mark and in the end you would end up with other, newer bruises.

Each thrust made your breasts bounce and you cupped them, glancing up at Aemond when he couldn’t help but look.

“So wanton,” he said, “my sweet, sweet wife.”  One hand reached up to encircle your throat and he began squeezing.  “So demure in public.  So depraved in private.”

The edges of your vision started to darken and blur, the feel of him inside you heightened, and you felt yourself start to swirl into that delicious heat that turned and turned ever tighter within you.  

“Come for me, I want to feel your surrender.”

You fell, silent scream on your lips, your body straining as the orgasm tore through you, Aemond’s hands your only anchor.  He slowly let go of your throat, the pumping of his hips never wavering as he rode out your release.  He reached between your legs, coaxing out more pleasure until you began to whimper.

“Aemond, please.”

“I like it when you beg.”

He grabbed your legs, placing both on his shoulder, crossing them at the ankles.  Each thrust felt harder, deeper, and you tried to move one leg, only to have him wrap an arm around your knees.  “Again, you would defy me,” he smirked down at you while you pressed your lips together, trying not to beg him again.  “Gods, yes” he closed his eye, “I can feel you starting to-” he groaned, long fingers digging into your thighs.

This time you cried out, the second orgasm more intense riding on the aftermath of the first one, and you were left panting, your legs shaking in his grasp.

He reached down to touch your breasts, hips pushing lazily against you.  “So beautiful when you let go,” he murmured, his voice softer than ever.  “So perfect when you let me have you completely.”  

In response, you clenched tightly around him and he gasped, his hold on you loosening for a moment.  You wrapped your legs around him, grabbed onto his hair, and pulled him down to you.  “You are mine, Aemond,” you said against his mouth, “I will have you in this world and the next.”  He snapped his hips harshly, and you took his earlobe between your teeth, tugging for a moment before letting go.  “Now, give me a son.”

You felt the tremor that went through him at your words, and when you took his mouth with your own, you sank your teeth into his lip this time.  He groaned as your tongue slipped into his mouth, your hands pulling on his hair.  You felt him getting harder inside you and you swallowed his moan of release when he finally came, hips giving a final snap.  

When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead against yours, panting heavily. 

“Stay like this,” you murmured, tightening your legs around him.  “I have read that your seed may quicken if I stay on my back.”

Aemond looked at you, eye flaring with lust.  “ I will keep you on your back all day and all night from now on.”  When you laughed, his face broke into a rare smile.

He placed a gentle kiss on your lips, fingertips caressing your face.  “Did I hurt you, my love?”

You shook your head.  “Never.”  You remembered the original reason you had walked into your rooms.  “Is Otto sufficiently repentant?”

“For now.”  He laid down next to you, tracing a fingertip down between your breasts.  “I am sure he will regain his sense of superiority eventually.”

“He has had many decades to perfect it,” you mused wryly.  You turned onto your side, wrapping your arms around your husband.  “I adore you, Aemond.”

“As I love you, wife.”

* * * * * 

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#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #hotd fanfic #aemond smut #aemond x you #hotd fanfiction

[cuethediscoandthedrinks]

some random sfw+nsfw colonel quaritch headcanons~

• bites his bottom lip with his top row of teeth; harshly sucks in a breath with his mouth corners spread far apart when he's either thinking hard, or accidentally hurt himself

• clicks open a penknife he kept with him, and lightly presses his thumb against the open blade when he's lost in thought

• manspreads. not leaning back, but hunching over with his forearms resting atop his knees

• is a big fan of 'nuh-uh/uh-uh' when he disagrees with someone/something, usually whilst cocking an eyebrow

• has an inner sassy that comes out when someone eats the last of his favourite meal, or he has to search around his quarters for a lost belt or radio comm

• likes to ever so subtly closed-mouth hum along to some old country songs from back when he was a human, usually when he's fresh out of the shower. but also if he forgets himself mid-forest patrol, whilst hacking away at the stray vines

• is a bad loser. has a lot of big talk, but goes pretty silent when he starts to lose a card game; less insecure silent, and more bore his eyes into your soul while he juts out his bottom jaw through gritted teeth kinda silent

• misses fried eggs. he used to eat them plain too, just like 3-4 eggs cooked up on a plate, ideally with a fork and nothing else (maybe some pepper?)

• has a hangup about the fruit on pandora. it irks him that despite hating the seemingly airy fairy lifestyle and diet of the na'vi, after a long hard day he now craves a sweet, juicy fruit to chomp into more than anything else

• scrunches up his nose when he hears a joke he doesn't like. he doesn't care for intellectual/wordplay humor. he's secretly a big physical comedy fan; slip down a wet bank? trip over a stray root? choke on some water? he'll belly-laugh

• speaking of, he laughs like how 'hahaha' writes. he's a 'HA-ha-ha-HA-heuUUUgh-AHahahaHaa' laugher, like right from the chest, a little hoarse. def cups his tummy with an open palm when he laughs too

• he'll shit-talk anyone, but primarily those who he deems deserve it. any random person or textbook 'vulnerable'/weak person is almost too tame for him to enjoy mocking, oddly?

• it took him about 2 weeks to really get mentally comfortable sleeping with a tail. he tried fetal, he tried back, he tried left, right; he now sleeps face-down starfish with a foot off the end of the bed bc he kinda wants the under-bed demons to fight him. he'll fight anything

• says "..aHh, fffuckk i'm..c-cumming" when he cums. like, he'll utter some kind of let-you-know phrase, and then swiftly detour into telling you how much you'll love his seed, or how good it must feel to be filled up, or how fucked out you'll be when he's done with you

• counts down when he gives you an order sexually. if you resist which he hopes you do he'll stop, purse his lips and intimidatingly yet blankly stare at you, and begin with a sigh and an "..alright. 3."

• loves to spit in his palm, and then smear it across your cheek and lips. he smirks or straight up grins when he does it, and'll even sometimes dip two fingers into your warm, wet mouth just to amuse himself

• additionally may test your resolve and gag reflex. he finds it both incredibly arousing yet endearing when you gag on his fingers, so he'll push them as deep down your throat as you can bear. maybe spit into your open mouth while he does it if he feels like it

• deeply enjoys humiliating you. it's a big ole power surge for him, and he'll exploit any moment in which your facade falls and you show your innate meek and flustered interior for him

#i.e. the life of a militant enneagram 8w7 #+reqs open lovelies #colonel miles quaritch #avatar miles quaritch #miles quaritch x reader #miles quaritch smut #miles quaritch #colonel catboy quaritch #colonel quaritch #na'vi x reader #na'vi quaritch #jake sully x reader #jake sully smut #jake sully #tonowari smut #tonowari

[iwanty0uu]

Pussy Monster

Pt 2┊͙✧˖*°࿐

“Holon” he said paying no mind to Eren , until he forced the phone into his hands, Connie kissed his teeth and grabbed the phone, he held the phone down and read every last story you posted, and internally, he panicked.

His mouth went dry and the increase of his heartbeat made his chain jumps between beats, and his eyes went dry, his brown furrowed deeply.His homeboys watched his actions cautiously, and Connie knew he was being watched.

He felt their gaze watch his every move and he knew better than to get anxious about this, so he let his anger get the best of him, forgetting that you were in the other room..

“Nah man what the fuck is shorty on?” he threw Eren’s phone on the couch and kissed his teeth, “Nah cus she always doin this shit like she bad or something nobody dont give a fuck.”

Now realistically speaking, if his homeboys weren’t there, he would have called your phone and begged you for your forgiveness no matter what, it didn’t matter if you weren’t even talking about him, he would still call and remind you how much he loved you.

Constance is a certified loverboy who was in love with you, his lover, his princesa and your name engraved in the passenger seat of his car proved it, but for some odd reason, he loved to do the most.

He was all bark and no bite which is why he said what he said behind your back, but every moment of his sorry ass act would have been embarrassing to someone who saw the real, vulnerable Constance

You woke up to yelling in the living room, your headache subsided, and you felt more energy, so you threw some clothes on, and was ready to argue with him. 

The creak of the door startled the men in the room, thinking they were the only ones home after hours of silence due to your nap.Connie’s eyes widened as he watched your figure lean on the door.

He looked around and his friends already knew they would hear about it in the groupchat, so they choose their battle wisely, and got the fuck up outta there.

“Safety bro” Ony said to Connie, dapping him up , all while making eye contact with you.

This nigga…

Hands crossed against your plush breasts, you raised your eyebrow waiting for what Connie would say next. He knew his ass was wrong, so would he really try to argue with someone as prideful as you?

“So the fuck was that bout Constance? You know how fuckin stupid look?” You said sarcastically, pushing up your chest. Your bare feet git the cold ground as you slowly made your way up to him, but you were met with Connie’s back as he walked away from you.

“Dont piss me off like you stay doin shit over social media” he plopped his ass on the couch and got back on the game like shit was sweet. This bitch is so annoying sometime.

A moment of silence made him uneasy, he shifted slightly in the couch, and you noticed how he was close to biting his top lip off.

“We done then.” you stated, finally getting his attention, you took his sweater off and threw it at him, revealing your plump breasts, your nipple piercing sat pretty on your left nip, and your belly ring moved as you walked.

“Y/n dont get me tight.”

Kinktober Special-

#attack on titan #black reader #black coded reader #iwanty0uu #fem reader #aot fanfiction #aot x black reader #connie x black reader #aot x y/n #aot connie #connie x black y/n #connie springer #black tumblr

[frogchiro]

B-barmaid reader and mean mean Lord Philip Graves, also known as "Shadow".

fem!reader, nsfw, slight breeding kink, reader is stated to be chubby, graves is a dirty dirty perv in this, jealous and possessive borderline obsessive graves

There's many theories about the elusive but charismatic lord; some say he was a spymaster for the king, others say that he was a fierce commander who committed unspeakable acts leading his army into war, raiding village after village, town after town and burning everything down until nothing remained.

Whether these rumors are true or not, Lord Graves is a charming individual, always dressed in black or dark blues but never gaudy or flashy like many others who have more gold than they can spend.

Aaaannd it just so happens that while riding out for a casual horse ride or hunting he always makes sure to stop by your cottage for a chat or stepping into the tavern when you work. Always the smooth talker he will compliment you and shower you in praises; your dress, your little garden, the flowers you've just collected, everything to make you stutter and blush, warmth collecting on your face as Philip laughs heartily, smooth accented voice purring out sweet words.

If you only knew that the charming Lord Graves has a much more...sinister side to him. At this point it's not a want but a need to stop by your home or tavern and talk with you, your sweet words and kind smile making his heart flutter and cock stiffen under his leather riding pants. He adores the sight of your plump breasts almost spilling out of the simple dress you're wearing while working around your cottage or the more showy off-shoulder dress while you're bartending. While he gets stupidly horny over the delightful sight when you bend down to pour him his drink with a sweet smile before going back to the open hearth to cook, he also gets stupidly jealous over all the other men gawking at your form, you're a sight for his eyes only and he truly wishes to pluck their eyes out himself.

But his favorite part is to observe you bathe in the nearby lake, your beautiful body all naked and vulnerable, seemingly well hidden from all eyes but his. He loves to watch you splash in the water, crystal droplets clinging to your skin, almost giving you a glowing look when the sun hits you right.

More then once Philip had the urge to pull his dick out of his pants and angrily jerk off like some adolescent boy to the sight of you but he remained strong, at least until he got back to his castle, to the safety of his bed chamber before letting his daydreams get occupied by you; your delicate skin, your plump heavy breasts, cute nipples perking up due to the sudden breeze and your hips, good gods your hips. Strong and broad with a nice belly, perfect to carry his heirs, his babies he longs for, but only with you. Only you.

He'd make you the lady of the castle, his precious Lady Wife whom he'd spoil until his dying breath. Clothe you in nothing but the finest gowns, imported silks and whatever you'd imagine. You'd sleep among the finest delicate furs in the warm embrace of your doting Lord Husband, naked and warm after a passionate round of lovemaking, still panting and tired but sated and happy.

Yes, Philip Graves may not be the best person but for you he'd watch the world burn. He'll make you his wife sooner or later, don't you worry about that, love~

#kin speaks #the ho jumped out again #cod x reader #cod mw x reader #philip graves x reader #graves x reader #philip graves

[hey-august]

Dadbod Buggy is so good and my personal hc (because how on earth would he pull off a sixpack? I’m not even calling him weak or unfit I just really feel a pirate that’s a tad more on the lazy side and has an affinity for food and drinks would at least not have a SIXPACK I don’t CARE what canon says) so please imagine with me:

Dadbod Buggy wearing something like a a girdle or other shapewear to keep his outline a tad smoother. He feels he looks more respectable with it and it also helps him get back into place correctly after using his powers and HES NOT SELF CONCIOUS ABOUT YET ANOTHER THING ABOUT HIMSELF SHUT UP!!

Imagine him getting someone into bed and being nervous because for all his showboating and boisterous behavior he didn’t think about what to do when the clothes would finally have to come OFF. Tries to dim the lights and hope he can maybe suck it in for long enough but of course his bedfellow notices and… are just completly smitten? Swooning even? It’s not a turn off at all? What- OH OKAY SLOW DOWN SLOW DOWN THERES ENOUGH OF HIM TO LAST THE WHOLE NIGHT GEESH!! Bedmate is in heaven. Actual pirate heaven, where god has blessed them with a man with long hair and thick lashes and even thicker tights, paired with a belly that has just the right amount of jiggle when you ride him like a rodeobull.

Also now got blessed with the mental image of Buggy’s stomach resting slightly on someone’s ass while he fumbles with his belt so he can take of his pants and rail them from behind. hmmmmm fat men ❤️

ANON. ANON HOW COULD YOU. Let me tell you how I needed DAYS to recover from reading this. The way I had to put my phone down while reading this the first time. KICKING MY LEGS AND GIGGLING each time I re-read it!! so blessed 😩🫠❤️❤️❤️

BIG YES to dadbod buggy. To chubby squishy clown man. To rolls I want to smother in butter.

He absolutely would try to hide his insecurities wear functionable accessories. The leather belt corset-looking thing he wears in OPLA seems like the exact thing he’d wear to keep shape. This also works with his whole flashy outfit. Anything to distract from…whatever. Let’s not talk about it. It’s not a big deal.

Until it is a big deal and he has to be vulnerable. Ew. Awful. But you’re right, this is not a turn off. Buggy’s not sure how things turned out the way they did, but the absolute mind-blowing enthusiasm from his partner seems way too sincere and real. They can’t keep their hands (and mouth) off of him. 

He didn't expect all the attention - hands running everywhere on his body, squeezing his thighs, groping his ass and trying to get the biggest handfuls of that sweet sweet plumpness, kisses squished into every soft mound - but his partner is loving it. They’re absolutely feral.

They’re begging to suck him off and be smothered between his legs. For real. Seriously. Buggy better wrap his legs around their head. Push them so far down that their face is pressed against his stomach. They want to feel him everywhere. How dare Buggy try and deny them this pleasure????

Buggy still feels unsure the next day. The horniness is gone and so is the attraction, right? NOPE. TIME FOR SQUISHY CUDDLES. BIG BEAR HUGS. The attraction is NOT GONE. They want to rest their head on his stomach. Not his chest, not his shoulder, but his goddamn stomach. It’s the best pillow and they drift off into twilight so fast.

The hugs. Buggy didn’t get it at first...he still doesn’t, actually, but he’ll put up with it. It makes his heart pitter patter when they come up and wrap their arms around him from behind, squeezing into his rotund tum until he grunts and groans from how tight the hug his. Sometimes they sneak a handful and a jiggle of his tits pecs. His pecs.

Finally, slowly, he starts to accept this about himself a little more. It started with wearing pants and no shirt around his partner, despite his stomach hanging over the waistband. Any time Buggy was unsure about how he looked, his partner would be so supportive. They’d hear him out and give Buggy whatever he needed, which was usually a mountain of compliments that quickly turned into flirting and dirty raunchy sex.

Now listen. Imagine with me...convincing Buggs to have a little beach day. No swimming, obviously. But to hang out under the palm trees and soak in the sun. And this motherfucker shows up like a hotshot. Blue hair in a ponytail. Sunglasses. And he’s in shorts. They show so much of his goddamn thighs. You're looking so respectfully. How could you not?? He’s also wearing an unbuttoned shirt. And holy shit, the way it flutters in the breeze. You can see the chest hair on his beautiful pecs and dusting down his tummy. That gorgeous squishy body.

Fucking beach day.

#buggy headcanons #buggy x reader #x reader #buggy smut #buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #buggy the clown headcanons #buggy x you #buggy op #opla buggy #one piece buggy #gender neutral reader

[mrsrileywrites]

Oh well, it seems like my brain was feeling functional today...

Here's part two of this Simon Riley x pregnant reader ask

Enjoy everyone and as always any and all sorts of interaction is highly appreciated 🫶

Side note: I'm still new here so I don't know how to add links and be like "this" and you press the word and boom there's the link, also I do all this from my phone so bare with my millennial old ass 😅

1001 words

"Explain what?" He shouts turning around and walking towards you again, your hands fly to your belly instinctively, protective. You lower your head, eyes glued to the floor, ashamed.

Simon sees your reaction, the fear on your eyes, and he steps back taking a minute to collect himself, to come to terms with this discovery, he runs his hand over his face and hair.

"I'm sorry Si, I was-" you speak softly, your tone apologetic but he cuts you off, "You are not, I didn't want this, you knew damn well I didn't want this" he shouts again and you shrink yourself wanting to crawl out of your skin and not deal with this, not right now at least, your shoulders slump like a child being scolded. "Why didn't you tell me? You had plenty of chances."

"I didn't know how" you pout looking up at him searching his eyes for reassurance that everything would be okay but he is relentless, you see the rage and something else in his eyes, something you can't quite identify. "You didn't know how? Are you fucking kidding me right now? How about, uh oh by the way you are going to be a dad?" He sighs pacing back and forth like an encaged animal.

"I was afraid" you blink away the tears that have been threatening to spill since he walked through the door, your heart is beating so fast you think you may pass out any second. And he sees you, the fear, the vulnerability, the uncertainty and it hits him like a train, you are afraid too and you've been dealing with this for the past two months on your own, he stands in front of you.

"Afraid of what? Of me?" His voice is much softer now and he moves a strand of hair behind your ear, his calloused fingers lingering on your cheek and you nod speaking softly like you always do, because you are nothing like him, you are sweet and soft around the edges "of your reaction, of loosing you, but I get it now... you don't have to do this, it's okay really... I can manage on my own".

His hands cup your face and your fingers curl around his wrists, the look on your face pulls at the strings of his heart and he knows he would never be able to leave you even if he tried, even if that meant to face his biggest fears and become a father, the father he wish he had. "You'll never lose me love, you're stuck with me... We'll do this together, yeah?"

"Mhm" you agree and bury your face on his chest letting the tears run free, Simon rubs soothing circles on your back and apologizes over and over, he said he didn't mean to yell, he wasn't mad he was just shocked and scared shitless and you apologize too.

____________________________________________

From that on Simon was really involved in your pregnancy as much as he could, he even talked to Price and he agreed to send him on not-so-dangerous and not-so-long missions, he even got to do all of his paperwork in his little office at home and go with you to all your doctors appointments, he was holding your hand when he saw the baby for the first time, black and white blob staring at him through the screen, he asked the nurse if he could have one of the ultrasound pictures to show the lads back at base and she give him a bunch, he chose his favorite and put it in his wallet, he tried, in vain, to hide his tears the first time he heard the baby's heartbeat, he didn't complained when he noticed his favorite ice cream running out a lot faster while yours remained untouched, you blamed it on the pregnancy cravings.

 

He held your hair and rubbed soothing circles on your back every morning while you hugged the toilet bowl emptying your stomach courtesy of the morning sickness and he reassured you every time you felt too overly conscious of the changes in your body, he rubbed lotion on your belly and spoke to the bump every night after you showered and got ready for bed, he cried his eyes out the first time he felt the baby kick while he laid on the couch with his head on your lap and you ran your fingers through his hair.

One night you both laid in bed, in the moon lite bedroom, you were at the 36 weeks mark and your doctor had told you the baby could be born any time now. You and Simon (Simon more than you) had put the nursery together while you boss him around. Simon laid behind you, his burly arms wrapped around you while his hand rubbed different shapes on your belly, he gasped every time the baby kicked.

"I'm scared" you mumbled so low you thought he didn't hear you. "Scared of what, love?" he spoke in a drowsy tone his mouth against your neck.

"Giving birth..." He chuckled and you smacked his hand. "You can't escape that part, baby, can you?".

"I know, I just... You are so big and the baby is big for his gestational age too... I don't know if I'll be able to do this" you sighed. "It's too late to think about that now baby" he chuckled again and you smacked his hand again.

"Simon, this is serious" you scolded him and he squeezed you a little tighter, his voice a low murmur against your neck. "I know it is, but you got this... You've come this far and you've been so brave you are going to be just fine, plus I'll be right next to you... and they'll give you something for the pain, I'll make sure you are as comfortable as possible, yeah?".

"Yeah" you agreed sinking further into his warm embrace and you knew no matter how scary it could be Simon would always be there being your biggest supporter and a great father.

@zlunia

#simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #ghost cod #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x pregnant reader #mrsrileywrites

[randxmthxughts]

Can't wait to meet you - Tsu'tey x pregnant!reader

summary: pregnant!reader having to reassure tsu'tey that he will be a great father, despite his fears

wc: 800

a/n: i have a long weekend and i'm planning to take full advantage of that. i promise, i'll get to writing dad!tsu'tey raising his babies, but before that i need some more tsu'tey just happily existing with his pregnant mate

masterlist

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The thick, humid air of the night clung to your skin, leaving a sticky and uncomfortable trace all over your swollen body. Being so far along in your pregnancy, sharing a hammock with Tsu’tey was becoming increasingly cramped. His chest pressed tightly into your back and despite your attempts to shift your weight for a cooler spot, to no avail, it was too difficult to move. You let out a soft sigh, giving up on the idea, a trickle of sweat ran down your forehead. But as you tried to drift back to sleep, you heard Tsu’tey’s ragged breathing, and for a second you thought that he might be having a nightmare.

“Tsu’tey?” you whispered in case he was asleep.

Tsu’tey hummed in response behind you, signaling that he was wide awake. You turned your head slightly, catching a glimpse of his profile in the dim moonlight. His eyes were open, staring up at the night sky.

With much effort, you turned around to lay on your other side and face him. Your big stomach immediately put a distance between your bodies, only brushing lightly against Tsu’tey’s core and bringing him out of his thoughts. You were exhausted, wishing to go back to sleep, but your mate losing sleep for the third night in the row was concerning, and it was about time that you comforted him.

“Go back to sleep, yawntu,” Tsu’tey mumbled, feeling a little guilty for your tired state.

He had to crane his neck awkwardly to lean down and plant a soft kiss on your forehead, something that he had gotten used to ever since your belly had grown in size.  

“Why aren’t you asleep, Tsu’tey?” the grit in your voice sounded pleasantly sweet to his ears, “I can tell something is troubling you.”

“It’s nothing,” he shook his head lightly, his expression betraying his words.

“Please share with your muntxatu,” you offered, placing your palm on Tsu'tey's chest.

He softened at the gesture, covering your hand with his and squeezing it lightly. Your all-knowing warm gaze was like a gentle wind, slowly unraveling and peeling away each layer of fear and doubt he had been putting on for the past months.

“I am scared that… I won’t be good enough for her,” he confessed, his ears lowering in shame.

You blinked in confusion, tracing the soft glow of his freckles back to his eyes, that were unwilling to look at you. Your heart swelled at the realization that he was talking about your daughter.

“You have no reason to be scared, Tsu’tey, you will be everything she could ever wish for,” you scooted closer to him, as much as your body allowed you to.

“What if I’m not?” he let out a deep sigh, finally meeting your gaze with vulnerability reflecting in his own, “You know how I am, yawntu… I can be harsh sometimes. What if she sees that and gets scared? If she goes off running or gets lost, and I get angry with her, then what? I don’t want her to fear me… or hate me.”

“Your concern for her even before she's born shows how good of a father you will be, Tsu’,” you looked at him with a soft smile, “And I know you won't hurt her, just like you've never hurt me.”

“I will protect her with my whole heart if I need to. Both of you,” Tsu’tey declared, feeling it in his whole being.

And you knew he meant it. With every fiber in his body, Tsu’tey was committed to give his unborn child everything he could and more. His love for her was pouring out of every word he muttered, every gesture, every thought in his head. 

“I know,” you hummed in contentment, “And both of us love you just for the way you are.”

His lips curled into a smile, and he leaned down to nuzzle your cheek, whispering a small ‘thank you.’ Tsu'tey rested his palm gently against your swollen belly, shifting to bring his face to the same level.

“Can’t wait to meet you,” he spoke softly to his unborn child, as you watched him with admiration.

Both of you felt a sudden movement from within your belly in response to his voice. Something small pressed against your skin, causing his eyes to widen, and Tsu’tey gently traced the imprint with his fingers, marveling at the sight he had already seen many times before.

“I think she’s saying it back,” you said. Tsu’tey nodded in satisfaction, pressing a kiss to your belly.

“I love you so much. Your mommy and you made me the happiest man alive, you know that?” 

And just like a response, the baby kicked again, drawing out a laugh out of both of you.

“Feels like she’s going to talk back a lot when she learns how to,” you teased, smiling down at Tsu’tey.

“Going to be just like her mother,” he grinned back.

You rolled your eyes playfully but the smile on your lips widened. Seeing your mate so happy over your shared love was something you could never grow tired of.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

taglist (lmk if you want to be added): @bigdikzaddy @awriana @scarletrosesposts @abbersreads @mechformers @my-love-of-books @avatarbyamara @robin-the-enby @netemoon @minjix @nilrilie @grierpilots @suntizme @live-laugh-neteyam @misscaller06 @darkacademictrash @arminsgfloll @omnifanfic-copycat @crazyforteyam @sakura-onesan

#tsu'tey x pregnant!reader #tsu'tey x pregnant!mate #tsu'tey x you #tsu'tey x reader #tsu'tey x y/n #tsu'tey fluff #tsu'tey fic #avatar 2009 #tsu'tey fanfiction #tsu'tey imagine #avatar 2009 x reader #avatar 2009 au #avatar fanfiction #tsutey #tsu'tey te rongloa ateyitan #tsutey avatar #pregnancy au #dilf!tsu'tey

[cowgurrrl]

Omgggg Charlie. I love her. Could I please get a fluff piece of Joel having a cute little night in with her when she is tiny - mom is on patrol shift. It’s just him and nugget Charlie at home, him cooking, doing bathtime and doing HER LITTLE CURLY HAIR and just reminiscing about being a girl dad again

Charlotte Sometimes

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: “Maybe our world will grow kinder eventually. Maybe the desire to make something beautiful is the piece of God that is inside each of us.” — Mary Oliver, from “Frank Marc’s Blue Horses” aka this ask [1.4k]

Warnings: talks of Tess and Sarah, Joel being the softest girl dad in the world, chronic pain, marital bliss

Joel never took care of his hair. Before the Outbreak, all his knowledge about hair was learned to protect Sarah's hair. Thanks to a lovely woman he met at Sarah's daycare, he learned about bonnets, leave-in conditioners, braids, and so much more. Joel would often come home from work with cracked and exhausted hands, but that all got washed away when Sarah sat in front of him with combs, sweet-smelling products, and hair ties. They'd listen to music together, talk about their days, and laugh as Joel worked his Dad Magic. Spending time caring for his daughter's hair was his form of meditation. 

After the Outbreak, he couldn't even look in the direction of the shitty FEDRA shampoo and conditioner without feeling pieces of him crumble and splinter like the face of his watch. He was always a rinse-and-go kind of guy, but especially so once he settled in Boston. There was always somewhere to go, something to do. He didn't have time to be alone with his thoughts, and he didn't want to. Tess washed his hair for him when he broke his arm during a shake-down. "You're killing me, Texas," she said when she brushed his hair back. She was the first person who ever cared for him the way he cared for Sarah. And it scared the shit out of him. Still, even after all those years, he remembers how she called him Texas and gave his malnourished strands attention. He remembers how she reminded him of that soft, vulnerable part of himself, and he buried it as deep as he could until he met you.

Joel never cared about his hair until Charlie was born with identical ringlets and wave patterns. The Miller Curls is the affectionate name for it. Everyone in the Miller family has had some version of The Miller Curls. Joel and Tommy's mom passed it down to the boys, and then the boys passed it down to their kids. Sarah and Camille have a scarily similar curl pattern, and Joel has given Tommy all the help to nourish her hair. So when you first noticed the tight curls forming on Charlie's head, you let Joel take the reins. 

By the time she's three, they have their own routine. Once a week, you work a night patrol shift with Maria or Ellie, sometimes Tommy, and he makes dinner. He usually makes more than is necessary for just three people, so you can take leftovers to Ellie or whoever you're working with that night, and you leave home with a full belly, Tupperware, and kisses from your favorite people. The second you're out the door, it's over. 

They chase each other around the house, color on the floor, sing loudly to whatever's spinning on the record player, and play guitar together. Well, Joel plays guitar, and Charlie just kinda makes up songs and dances. He strums to keep time with her, but she interrupts him with laughter and requests for new songs. Tonight, it's "Mommy's Song," which is what she calls your favorite Beatles song. When the sun gets low, they pick up the living room together, and Joel carries Charlie upstairs to take a bath.

He takes his time washing the marker off her hands, brushing the tangles out, and shampooing and conditioning her hair. Once she's out and in her pajamas, she sits in front of Joel and hands him the products he asks for: leave-in conditioner, spray, and cream to hold her curls. Maria and a few other parents in Jackson made their own stuff and taught Joel how to mix different oils and herbs to strengthen and condition her hair. It gives him a sense of pride, knowing he can take that extra step to show how much he cares for her. When he's done with the products, he lightly scrunches and wraps stray pieces around his finger to encourage the curl formation. 

By the end of their routine, Charlie is nodding off, her cheek smushing against Joel's knee. "Let's get you to bed, baby girl." He murmurs as he kisses the top of her head and carefully picks her up. She buries her face in his neck and wraps her arms around his shoulders, feeling nothing but safety and love as she falls asleep on him. 

When he lays her down in her bed, she doesn't immediately let go of him. She groggily blinks her eyes open to look at Joel in the moonlight shining through her window and smiles. "I love you, Daddy," she yawns and kisses his cheek. "I love when you do my hair, too." It's the last thing she gets out before rolling over in bed and closing her eyes. Joel sits there, as starstruck as the day she was born, and has to take a deep breath to stop himself from crying. 

"I love you, too, Charlotte." He says, but she can't hear him. He tucks her in a little tighter and kisses her temple again before leaving her room. 

When you get home from patrol, he's asleep on the couch, snoring with his arms crossed over his chest. You've told him repeatedly that he doesn't have to wait up for you, that you'll see him in the morning or when you crawl into bed. Nearly four years of marriage, and he still doesn't listen to you. You walk over to the back of the couch and push his hair out of his face to kiss his forehead, rousing him awake. He hums and lifts his arm to hold your hip. "If you keep falling asleep here, you're gonna fuck up your back." You whisper as he leans his head back to get a kiss.

"M'back's already fucked up." He says, his voice gravelly and deep from fatigue, and you laugh. 

"You guys have a good night?"

"The best," he says. "She told me she loves when I do her hair." 

"She did?" You gush, and he smiles softly. "I'm telling you, you've got a talent for that kinda thing." Joel Miller, hardened survivor and killer, has spent the last three years becoming a pro at handling his toddler's hair. There's a joke in there somewhere, but you're too tired to try and find it. 

"How was patrol?" He asks, and you reach for your shoulder. 

"All clear. I think I've gotta switch back to my handgun 'cause the shotgun is hurting my shoulder."

"Could be the cold, too."

"Could be how many times I've dislocated it." 

"And that one time you caught a bullet right," he trails his hand up until his thumb can press into the thick scar tissue near your collarbone. "There." He says, and you hum. You sigh and pat Joel's chest before walking over to the coat rack and shrugging your jacket off, wincing as you do. 

"Why don't you go to bed, and I'll join you after I take a shower?" You suggest, and an idea lights up his brain.

"Your shoulder gonna be alright?"

"I'll manage." 

"Y'know..." he starts, standing from the couch and waltzing over to you. His hands snake around your waist, and you raise your eyebrows at him. "A very smart lady once told me I've got a talent for doin' hair."

"I think I remember hearing that." You tease. 

"You gonna let me wash your hair for you, darlin'?" He asks, that stupid, sleepy southern drawl doing it for you every time, and you fight a smile. "To rest your shoulder, of course."

"Of course," you echo, squinting at him. You try to wrap your arms around his neck, but shooting pain stops you from getting very far. As much as you want to fight him and make him go to bed, you could also probably use the help. "You can wash my hair only if you promise to stop falling asleep on the couch when I'm on nights." 

"You drive a hard bargain, Mrs. Miller." 

"Mm." You hum. He pretends to think as his thumbs make soothing circles into your shirt. 

"I promise to try and stop fallin' asleep on the couch." 

"I'll take it." 

"Yeah?" He asks, and you nod. He kisses you and your injured shoulder, a gentle, sleepy smile on his face the whole time before he leads you upstairs and to the bathroom that still smells of his homemade products and Jane's lotion. 

Joel Miller never took care of his hair. At least, not until he had someone like you running your hands through it or daughters who needed him to care. Who would've thought that big, broody, dangerous man with the scar across his nose would be the same man to color on the floor with your baby or brush her curly hair or fall asleep on an uncomfortable couch just to make sure you got home safe? 

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @moonandseatgr-yngf @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @korynnekorynne

#I remembered my tag list!! #the last of us #joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller the last of us #joel tlou #joel miller fluff #joel miller series #joel miller au #dad!joel miller #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #the last of us fic #joel the last of us #the last of us series #the last of us fluff #tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou au #tlou x reader

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 16

MASTAPOST

tell me what u like about the chapter :D guess where the story's going, anything! gimme fuel qwq

Damian lay on his belly on Phantom’s chest as the boy floated just underneath the surface. It was night time, and the Atlantean town they’d sacked was far behind them now. Here they only had the stars to accompany them, wobbling and swaying over the distortion of the water.

They were so close… Damian pushed himself up with his arms. His head breached the surface, water washing over his face like a veil. His eyes widened as he took in the beauty of the night sky, much more comfortable without the blinding sunlight when he’d first tried this.

There was something comforting about the stars, something beautiful outside this world that would be there no matter what, even in his most miserable nights with the League. It was something he missed when he moved the Manor underneath Gotham’s smog-filled skies.

Damian pushed himself further, balancing himself on his tail and hip fins instead of his arms. The gentle sea breeze prickled at his wet scales, causing him to shiver. It brushed against his ear fins and gave a sense of immeasurable calm. Just him, Danny, the stars and the whistle in the wind.

And a feeling of suffocation.

Damian’s lungs demanded air. Or was it water? He inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of the sea from above it rather than underneath, but it didn’t help. He inhaled again, but the pressure remained.

What- What was this madness?! Sirens could breathe over water. This was indisputable. Danny had been able to breathe and talk over water the night Damian was transformed. Damian was able to breathe air and talk then. Damian sucked in more and more air, desperately trying to sate the need for oxygen. Why couldn’t he breathe?!

 Damian’s vision twisted. His head spun. His chest felt like knives being stabbed into it.

Hands grabbed him. Danny pulled him back under, where the water provided sweet relief. Damian clutched his chest, as if any moment now he would drown again.

“Are you ok Damian?” Danny’s hands hovered over him, like he was fragile china. Damian scowled.

“Why couldn’t I breathe? What has happened to me?” Damian asked, demanded, heavy with accusation.

“Dude, your lungs are water balloons right now. You gotta empty ‘em out before you can breathe air.” Danny said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Damian’s cheeks burned. He turned his back on Danny and crossed his arms.

“I was aware. I was merely testing you.”

Danny poked him in the sail, the sensitive touch causing Damian to hiss instinctively. “I mean if you’re the siren expert, then by all means!”

Damian did not dignify him with a response. Instead, he surfaced again, determined. Instead of inhaling in panic, trying to pump air into lungs at full capacity, Damian focused on exhaling, on pushing the water out.

His throat cramped with pain. The young siren gargled and gasped. His throat clamped and throbbed, like he was pushing a jagged boulder up. He barely managed to spit out a meagre drop of water before Danny dragged him under again.

The older boy pulled him to his chest, stroking his back as Damian coughed and hacked.

“Ok that was my bad, are you ok?” Danny said, ear fins drooping. Damian wheezed, his eyes closing as the pain abated.

“Do you go through this every time you surface?” Damian shuddered. What would happen to him once he got home? He wouldn’t be able to walk, and now couldn’t even breathe without immense pain.

“Hehe, no.” Danny deadpanned. “You’re supposed to use your gills.”

Danny tapped on his own gills. Instinctively, Damian moved his elbows to cover his. Lately he had been keeping sane by not thinking too much about the creepy feeling of having water flow through the slits in his chest, how exposed and vulnerable it made him feel. How it gave him a glaring weakness that could be easily exploited.

“Just open up your gills, and let the water drain out. It’s that simple.”

Damian sputtered. “What did you say?”

Danny shrugged, like he was explaining grade school mathematics to a two-year-old. “Like this.”

Danny’s gills flapped open. It was only from years of stoic training that Damian did not gag at the sight of Danny’s pale flesh revealed underneath his aquatic breathing apparatus. His eyes trailed to his own set of gills.

“Is there another way?” Damian was not avoiding this issue, nor was he ‘procrastinating’ as Richard would insipidly suggest. He was merely searching for a more optimal alternative.

“We’re sea creatures, Damian. I consider myself lucky for being able to not drown in air at all.”

Damian swallowed the lump in his throat. He was the son of Batman and Talia Al Ghul. He could face this. Being unable to breathe above water would make him a liability on this journey. He had to push through.

Damian prepared to resurface, gathering his nerves.

“Just relax. You can do it, Damian. It’ll be as easy as breathing.”

Encouraged by the prospect of not hearing any more puns, Damian pushed his upper half over the surface. Accordingly, Danny also pushed closer. This high over the water, Damian wobbled as his body adjusted to his weight in the air.

The pressure started to mount on his chest. Damian focused on the slits between his ribs, on the alien feeling of wind blowing into them and hitting exposed flesh. He squinted his eyes and tried to push the water out through his gills. He flexed and contracted his arms and stomach, searching for the unconscious switch in his brain that could activate the write muscles.

It was too much. He went under again.

“This is proving more difficult than I had anticipated.” Damian huffed, chest heaving from strain.

“I can tell.” At Damian’s glare, the older boy raised his hands in defense. “Hey, you looked legit constipated up there. I was starting to worry you’d actually make a mess of yourself. Now, like I said, all you need to do is-”

Damian hissed at the older boy’s mockery. “I can take care of myself. I need no advice to do something as simple as breathing. Thank you.”

Damian glared at the surface, the invisible barrier between this world and the old one, and redoubled his efforts. The pressure came back. Damian twisted his body and nerves, but he couldn’t get a single gasp of air in. He sank. He re-emerged, he suffocated again. Each time Damian pushed himself further, only to be met with the same difficulty. Each time left him sorer, more cramped.

Until after many an attempt, Damian slumped against Danny’s chest, scaled skin warm despite the cold, deep-sea looking appearance. His muscles turned to jelly, even as he feebly pushed against the older boy’s scales for another attempt.

The young siren felt soft hands wrap around his waist. Damian tried to push away, to wiggle out. Danny’s chest vibrated with a low him, and it was like his strings were cut, and Damian’s resistance ceased. All he could do was mutter weakly.

“What are you doing?”

Danny surfaced, arms keeping Damian under, until they began to pull him up too. Damian’s heart accelerated. He could not stop the frightened chitters forcing their way out. His fins went rigid. Was this it? Did Phantom finally lose his patience, and decide Damian was no longer worth the effort? This was bad. He needed to escape and he needed to escape yesterday.

But as Damian began to struggle, the rumbling vibrations from the elder’s chest intensified, and the small boy went limp again. His muscles, sore from exertion and rendered even weaker by the strange biological signal, refused to move. All he could do was tilt his head away, trying to delay the inevitable. Helplessly, he watched the surface creep closer and closer, until he went over.

Damian waited for his death. In his prayers, he apologised to Father, to Richard, even to Drake, for everything. In this moment, as tears pricked his eyes as he was helpless but to drown in fresh, oxygen-rich air, Damian resigned himself.

The pressure did not come.

His chest tingled. Pinpricks poked the skin and outer scales, and along the lining of his gills. Water ran down his chest and over his abdomen. Damian blinked, and looked down.

His gills were open, fully open, gaping wide and exposing his insides for the world to see, but they were open. And water flowed out of them, emptying his lungs. Damian gasped, and felt sweet relief as cold, burning, fresh air finally filtered into his body. His body wracked from the sweet release, chest struggling to accommodate the big greedy gulps he took.

“And now you shut them, keep the air going out the other way.”

Damian nodded glumly. That he could manage. A swift motion, and the flaps of scales and skin shut tightly, leaving only thin lines on his body to suggest that he ever had gills in the first place.

For a moment, he felt human. Even as he actively commanded his breaths, he felt more like a normal human again than he had in the last 48 hours.

“T-thank you.” Damian said, cursing the weakness in his voice. Not to mention how it sounded completely different now, travelling through water instead of air. It was unnerving, but he couldn’t place why. He felt too tired for more riddles about his body. “You have saved me a great inconvenience.”

Danny quietly chuckled. “It was literally what I told you. You need to loosen your muscles to get the water out. This whole time you’ve been all tight and wound up like a spring lock. Dude I think you even sleep all locked up too. That can’t be healthy.”

Sleep was when you were at your most vulnerable. Any threat could walk by and do with you whatever they pleased. In his life, there would be danger at every turn. It was a sentiment he’d expressed to the others in his family when they too voiced the same concerns.

He would never be safe in this life.

A finger poked his cheek. Damian snapped his teeth at the infantilizing gesture, only for it to retreat back just as quickly. He turned around and looked up, muscles no longer rendered limp by the subjugating vibrations.

Danny pointed to the sky, a soft smile on his face.

“It’s a good night to stargaze, isn’t it?” A comet whizzed by in the night, a streak of white trailing behind it, like an artist’s brush across a canvas. Now that he could breathe again, Damian felt an overwhelming sense of calm again, treading water and watching the stars shine.

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