#& it’ll make the good ones even /more/ fun to be around /more/ deeply appreciated in your heart

[absurdthirst]

Accidentally Mrs. Bravo {Dieter Bravo x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 24.8k

Warnings: Drug use, alcohol, dub con due to spiked drinks, vaginal sex, oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal fingering, Dieter being a sub, face sitting, period oral (Dieter has his red wings), hand jobs, angst, Dieter being a sassy asshole. 

Comments: Being PR for Dieter Bravo is a nightmare, the idea of him going to Vegas for a birthday weekend absolutely horrifies you. Even more when it’s suggest you go with him. It’s going to be horrible, you just know it. Especially when you wake up married to him. 

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers​

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Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

When Dieter told his team he wanted to go to Vegas for his birthday, you had told him no. As his PR manager, Dieter and Vegas are a bad combination. God knows what he’d do when fuelled by drugs, gambling and endless booze. Surrounded by people with camera phones and men and women who would want him to fuck them. Maybe get knocked up. You get a headache even thinking about it. When his manager suggested you accompany him to make sure he says out of trouble, you protested and put your foot down, telling her that you hate Vegas. It’s a cesspool of bad decisions. However, the next thing you know you’re on a private jet going to Vegas while Dieter snorts coke off of the mahogany table while his “friends” drink champagne. You know this is going to end in Disaster.

Inhaling deeply, Dieter throws his head back, letting the endorphins rush through his system and he lets out a loud whoop. “Fuck, that’s some good shit!” He crows and looks around, spotting you sitting in one of the plush leather chairs across from the couch with a sour look on your face. “You want some?” He asks, offering you the one hundred dollar bill he had rolled up to snort the coke with. “Maybe it’ll get that stick out of your ass.”

You watch him with disgust. You might have been hired to handle his PR but the man makes it a never ending job. Being caught with prostitutes, arrested with coke possession and a general bad attitude with paps has made you have many a sleepless night. This trip will be no exception. “No, thank you.” You respond coolly, shaking your head. “The stick will remain firmly in my ass for the entire trip.” 

Dieter chuckles, pulling his hand back, “I bet you like having something up your ass.” His joke makes you roll your eyes and you cross your legs, looking out of the window.

Huffing at your lack of appreciation for his joke, Dieter passes the rolled up bill off to one of his friends and frowns at you. “Why are you here if you don’t want to have fun?” He whines. “You should have stayed in L.A.” He doesn’t want you here. All you do is complain about his behavior, his manners, the way he dresses. He wants to relax and have fun, not be nagged to death by a fish wife. If he wanted that, he would get married.

“I don’t want to be here but your team - including me - thought it would be best to come with you to control what happens. The last thing you need with your new movie coming out is a mug shot.” You tell him. “Besides, I have fun. My fun just doesn’t involve doing copious amounts of drugs, having sex with prostitutes, and drinking more tequila than what’s available in the entire country of Mexico.” 

Dieter scoffs, “what do you do to have fun? Read?” His words make you bristle, swallowing down your retort that reading would be better than spending him in his company. 

“Just behave yourself and we won’t have any issues.” You finally respond, glancing around at his “friends.” All people who are here because of what he can give them, not because they like him as a person.

“I always behave myself.” Dieter gives you an offended look and shakes his head. “Just because I don’t adhere to your version of behaving doesn’t mean I don’t behave.” He chuckles and looks around the plane. “Haven’t you ever just had fun? Fuck what they say or what they think? Just be yourself?”

You try not to react, but his words hit. You went to college for media and you ended up getting a job right out of college with a PR firm. You needed to prove yourself and that meant working all hours. You’ve never really let your hair down and done whatever you wanted. You huff, shaking your head at him. “You don’t behave. You make my job so much harder. I’d hate to see you when you’re not behaving.”

“Have I flashed my dick at the paps?” He asks you, titling his head and smiling in amusement at the mental image of doing just that. “Or come up with some love child with a prostitute? Because I’ve fucked a lot of women. It could have happened.”

God, you hate this man. He’s so self indulgent it infuriates you. He does what he wants, when he wants. Damn the consequences. “Just try to not let either of those things happen during this weekend.” You reach for your phone, deciding to check your emails while he continues to indulge. 

When the pilot announces the plane will be landing soon, you steel yourself for what will no doubt be an exhausting weekend. The plane lands and the limos are waiting on the tarmac. Dieter’s assistant - who luckily has the weekend off - had arranged every detail even down to the baggie of coke waiting for him in the limo.

“Vegas baby!” Dieter squints and nods his head so that his sunglasses flip down onto his nose and he pushes them up. He wraps his arm around the girl he had met just this morning who had said she would be willing to go to Vegas with him. He smirks as he looks back at you, “try to keep up.” He tells you before he and the bottle blonde he’s wrapped around stumble down the plane’s stairs onto the tarmac.

You scoff in disgust, watching him squeeze the woman’s ass when she gets into the limo. He’s wearing sunglasses and it’s fucking nighttime. What an asshole. You get into the limo, sitting in the far corner and he has already found the baggie. This is going to be the weekend from hell. The woman kisses his jaw and he manages to snort some coke off of her tits when she pushes them together. “Classy.” You mutter, ignoring the entourage.

Dieter doesn’t even pay attention to you, too busy motor boating Cindy, or was it Kathy? He doesn’t know, nor does he really care. He just wants to get to the hotel and get another bottle of champagne. “We should hit the club!” Someone suggests, and like the easily distracted creature that he is, Dieter latches onto the idea. 

“A strip club!” He agrees happily. 

You shake your head. “No. No strip clubs.” You put your foot down. You’re not going into a strip club with Dieter Bravo. 

“It’s my fucking birthday. We are doing what I want.” Dieter growls, pissed that you’re doing everything you can to ruin his birthday weekend. 

“No strip clubs.” You repeat, crossing your arms.

“Go sit at the hotel if you don’t want to go.” Dieter huffs. “This limo is going to a strip club.” He lowers the glass between the back and the driver and grins. “Hey Buddy, take us to the best fucking strip club in Vegas. ‘Kay?”

You huff, knowing you have no choice. You can’t leave him be. He would run riot in Vegas. “You don’t want to change?” You ask, “or check into the hotel?” You frown, knowing he’d requested the best suite at Caesars. 

“No. I want to get this party started. We can change later.” Dieter declares. 

“Later? It’s nine.” You check your watch. 

“It’s early for Vegas.” Dieter shrugs and you sigh, knowing you have no choice.

Fueled by cocaine and champagne, Dieter is the first out of the limo when it comes to a stop. He likes the look of the place, the sound of the music is loud but he doesn’t care. Soon enough he will be watching women dance. “Hey, are there men here too?” He asks, suddenly curious. That would be cool. A strip club that caters to men and women, or people who like men and women.

You exhale deeply, trying to remain calm as you follow the group into the strip club. It's loud and full of bodies - both men and women. Some partly dressed, some naked as the day they were born. A half naked man walks past and you fluster when he winks at you. You have never been somewhere like this and you're no virgin but your life has been pretty vanilla.

It’s nothing but VIP for the group. Even if Dieter wasn’t recognized, a few folded up bills passed to the server assures that you are quickly seated at the best tables. “Uh huh, I want a dance from her and him.” Dieter lowers his glasses and leers over the rim with a grin on his face as a pair of dancers walk past. He turns to watch the rear view and catches sight of you. “I’ll even buy you a dance.” He tells you, blowing you a kiss. “Get you to loosen up. Tuck a few bills in a G-string.”

You roll your eyes and have a sip of the glass of champagne. You won’t get drunk but a glass or two will help you deal with this asshole all night. Some people ask why you work for him if you can’t stand him but honestly, he’s a PR nightmare and you always said you wanted the hardest cases for a challenge. He’s definitely been the hardest. “Gee thanks.” You respond sarcastically. 

The woman Dieter brought along is a little offended that he wants a dance and she slaps his chest ‘playfully’ and says “what about a private dance from me baby?”

Dieter rolls his eyes and tugs her close. “Of course I want a private dance from you.” He coos, leaning in and presses his lips to her neck and makes her giggle when he playfully bites her. “Later. We’ll have our own little strip tease.” Later on he has no clue what he will be doing, but she’s fun and he will hopefully get lucky. He’s getting laid for his birthday. Or at least a blowjob. “Don’t you want to shove some bills into his g-string?”

You huff, deciding you might as well do something fun for once. You make a grabby gesture and he grins, handing you the bills. You call a man over and he saunters, moving his hips and he holds out his hand. “Oh, I don’t want a dance. Here, take this. Put it towards your education or your rent or food or whatever. Just - take it.” You shove the notes into the man’s hand who is shocked.

Pouting, Dieter rolls his eyes. “God, you are no fun.” He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest and shoots you a glare. “He was hot, he might have enjoyed the stick in your ass.” He’s pissed that he didn’t get to see the man dance, or see if you would fluster and loosen up. He doesn’t care about the money. It’s about having a good time.

You scoff, “you act like he wouldn’t have been nice to me because he’s getting money. All of these people are here because of your money, Bravo. They aren’t your friends, they want your wallet. Especially her.” You point to Cindy, Kathy, whatever her fucking name is. “I’m going to the bathroom.” You huff, standing up and grabbing your purse. You need to calm down and compose yourself if you’re gonna survive an entire weekend of this.

For a split second, Dieter’s face falls, hurt shining in his eyes before he shakes himself slightly and blinks it away. You’re just pissed that you’re here instead of locked away in your depressing house with whatever boring ass book you were going to read. The waitress comes over and he orders a magnum of champagne and glasses for everyone, including you. You’re at his birthday weekend, you are damn well going to celebrate,

When you come back from the bathroom, there’s champagne flowing and you see the glass waiting there for you. You shouldn’t drink it but you have to. You won’t endure tonight without a drink or two…or maybe three. You sit down and pick up the glass, downing it. You choke on the bubbles and Dieter cheers, clapping his hands. “Now we are fucking talking.” 

Little do either of you know that one of his entourage snuck something into your drinks. You sway slightly, a giggle escaping your lips. “Wow. That champagne was so fucking good.” You feel tingly, like you’ve had ten drinks instead of two.

“So you are human.” Dieter gets up and moves around Cindy or Kathy and wedges himself in beside you. His grin is wide and happy and he clinks his glass against yours and takes a large sip of his bubbly. “It’s nice to see it. I didn’t think that I would ever witness you ‘let down your hair’.”

“Don’t get too excited, Bravo. The night is young and I am - I am supposed to be watching over you.” You can’t help the giggle that escapes your lips. You lean against Dieter, all hatred for him seems to have disappeared and you have another glass of champagne. “Happy birthday Bravo.” You cheer, suddenly excited for the night. 

****

You groan at the bright light that shines into the room, your head is throbbing and you can barely open your eyes. Fuck, what happened last night. You don’t remember a thing. You wince, realizing you must’ve drank way too much, and you shift, turning over away from the light and you hit something. Without opening your eyes, you reach out, gasping at the feel of hot skin and you freak out, opening your eyes. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck.” You panic, seeing the familiar tattoos on your boss’s back.

Dieter groans, hearing someone’s panicked voice and shifts, turning over and covering his eyes with his hand. “Throw up on the floor.” He grunts, not wanting to lay in puke if whoever he took to bed is about to get sick. He doesn’t open his eyes and groans again, wanting to go back to sleep.

You slap him, “wake the fuck up!” You slap him again. Shrieking when you realize you’re naked. “You need to wake up now, Dieter. I- we are in bed and - and naked.” You look at him and frown when you see the gold band on his hand. “What the fuck is that?” You reach for his hand, pulling it away from his face and that’s when you see the diamond in your left hand. “What the fuck? Wake up!” You slap him with his own hand.

“Ow! Ow! What the fuck?” Dieter bolts upright and throws his hands up defensively. His eyes are wide and he looks at you like you are crazy. “What the fuck are you doing? I’m sleeping!” He isn’t questioning why you are naked and in his bed. He doesn’t even really care, but dammit, he was enjoying the sleep. And you rudely interrupted it.

“Sleep? How can you sleep when a) we are in bed naked together, and b) WE ARE APPARENTLY FUCKING MARRIED!” You shout, grabbing his hand to show him the new gold band and holding up your own hand. “Oh God. This is - it’s gotta be a joke, right? We aren’t married. We just bought rings.” You try to reason, knowing no matter how drunk you could be, you wouldn’t marry him.

His eyes widen and he looks at your hand and then back at your face for a moment before he busts out laughing. “Oh good job!” He crows. “You had me for a second. And showing me your tits to sell it? Genius.” He chuckles and looks around, spotting a glass of champagne on the nightstand and twists around to grab it, swallowing down the flat champagne. It’s disgusting, but his mouth is dry and he needs something. He pulls the glass down from his lips. “You should stop the bullshit babysitting and act, sweetheart.”

You narrow your eyes at him. "What the fuck are you talking about?" You growl, pissed that he thinks this is some kind of joke. "Do you think this is funny? Bravo, this is - oh God. I think I'm gonna be sick." You scramble to get off of the bed, racing to the bathroom and you kneel down just as you throw up. You gag and cough until you're done before you slump down on the floor, pressing your forehead against the cool porcelain. You inhale deeply and look down, eyes widening at the crusted liquid on your inner thighs. "Oh shit." You hiss, reaching between your legs. You stand up, rinsing your mouth, and stumble back into the bedroom. "We had sex. We had sex." You're in shock.

“What?” Dieter frowns, shaking his head. “You wouldn’t have sex with me. Believe me, I’ve asked.” He had asked you the first day he met you and you had scoffed and acted revolted so he had never asked again. Although you’re standing in front of him naked, and that is something he thought he would never see. “You just probably spilled something on yourself.” He rolls his eyes and flops back onto the bed.

You shake your head, tears in your eyes that he doesn't believe you. "I know what dried cum looks like, you asshole." You spit and search around the room for your phone, knowing you need to find out what happened. When you find your phone, you see the notifications. Opening the first one, your eyes widen. "Oh shit." You read the headline, "Oscar Winning Dieter Bravo Gets Married in Vegas." You scroll until you see the video. "Dieter." You take the phone over to him, hitting play.

A picture is worth a thousand words and apparently a video is worth a million. You and Dieter are obviously intoxicated and grinning happily at each other. In the video, he grabs your ass and hauls you closer while the two of you kiss, tongues tangled and the group that Dieter had brought is cheering and clapping. Pulling away, Dieter looks around. “Now, I’m going to fuck my wife!” He yells out, grabbing your hand and dragging you towards the limo - presumably to take you back to the hotel. “Shit.” Dieter groans, knowing his manager is going to kill him. You probably didn’t sign a prenup.

You cannot believe this. You don't know what happened. You vowed you wouldn't have more than a few drinks, how the hell did you end up blacked out and married to Dieter? "Shit." You echo, wondering what the hell you're gonna do. That video is all over the internet and you know that this press is going to be impossible to tamper. The phone rings and you groan at the name of Dieter's manager flashing on the screen. "Hey Alex. How are you?" You ask, trying to act nonchalant. 

"How am I? How am I? You fucking got married to Dieter. You were hired for PR and you orchestrate the biggest fuck up in the history of fuck ups."

“Hey.” Dieter huffs, hearing her screech over the phone. “I wouldn’t say it’s the biggest fuck up.” He throws the covers off his body, obviously not going to be able to go back to sleep and climbs out of the bed, stretching with a groan. Completely unconcerned with his nudity as he stumbles to the bathroom to take a piss.

You watch him walk into the bathroom, jaw dropping, and you realize now why there's an ache between your thighs. "Not a fuck up? You got married! To your PR manager. Jesus Christ Dieter. You need to fix this." Alex says your name and you bite your lip, unsure of how you can fix it. 

"I- I don't know - he can't just say it was a joke. There's..." You rack your brain. "There's one way but he's gonna hate it." You look towards the bathroom. 

"I don't care. Just fucking fix it. He has a new movie coming out and we don't need the studio on our ass because he has fucked up - because you have fucked up." She hangs up and you stare at the phone, wanting to cry at this entire fucked up situation.

The best thing about Dieter is his ability to go with the flow. Or at least he thinks he does. Often he’s just too strung out, but right now, he’s finding this hilarious. “Just call me Brittany.” He chuckles into the mirror before he groans and reaches for the bottle of antacids that he keeps in his bag, along with his illicit drugs. Getting older sucks. He pops four into his mouth and chews them, reaching down and scratching his balls while he tries to remember if he did anything else last night besides marrying you. That can’t have been the worst thing he did.

You know what the solution is but fuck, you hate it, you really fucking hate it. You grab the shirt he was wearing, throwing it on without care, and you walk towards the bathroom. "We can't get an annulment." You declare. Dieter frowns, turning to look at you, his hand still scratching his balls. 

"Why not?" He huffs. 

"We have to stay married. If we get an annulment now, it will be recorded and the press will get hold of it and it will be a bigger story than it already is. If we stay married, even on paper, for six months or so, we can get an annulment and no one will even care to look because it will be old news."

“We can just say it was an accident.” Dieter shrugs and smirks. “What happens in Vegas and all that.” You shake your head. 

“No Dieter, not what happens in Vegas. That’s the problem!” You shriek and he winces at how loud you get. 

“Jesus, there’s the stick again.” He grumbles and sighs, trying to ignore the fact that you are wearing his t-shirt. “I don’t want to be married to you,” he whines. “Your going to tell me I can’t have sex while we’re married.”

“I won’t be married to you in any way other than a piece of paper. We are going to have to suffer each other for the time being. Once we get the annulment, you will give me a reference so I can move on from this shit show. You - you can fuck whoever you want but you won’t be doing it in public. We need people to think we are really married. You need to act like we are actually married, not just a terrible mistake. You need this to work otherwise you will be a laughing stock. With the cocaine possession and DUI, you can’t afford another fuck up.” You warn him, knowing that the last thing you want is to be married to him but you need this job more, you need that reference more than anything.

Dieter huffs, knowing that you aren’t wrong, but it’s all bullshit. “What the fuck, you don’t do your job and I’m the one punished?” He gripes, hating the entire idea. Especially where you said you would be leaving him. He hates when people leave him. “How did Ms. ‘Holier than thou, stick in her ass’ manage to get married to a man she can’t stand in a Vegas wedding chapel?”

“I don’t - I don’t remember anything past going to the bathroom in the strip club. I - I didn’t do my job? How dare you! I tried to prevent something like this but you bought me the drink and it was poured and - oh fuck. Do you think- do you think our drinks were spiked? Oh fuck. That explains it. One of your goddamn gold digging groupies spiked my drink and now I’m - oh God. I knew I shouldn’t have come along. Oh fuck. Dieter - we got married and had sex and I don’t even remember.” You freak out again, hands shaking as the weight of this settles on you.

Dieter frowns, while he loves using drugs and thinks that you could personally benefit from the occasional snort or toke, he doesn’t like the idea of being unknowingly drugged. Again, completely unconcerned with the fact that he’s naked, he walks over to you. “It’s okay.” He hesitates to reach for you, but then he does, pulling you against him and hugging you. Only slightly awkwardly considering you are just wearing his shirt and it is morning. “I’m sure there’s a video of it.”

You are so distraught that you actually wrap your arms around him and allow him to comfort you. Only for a moment until you realize that you’re married to him. “We need a game plan. What’s done is done and you don’t need anymore bad press so we gotta stay married.” You declare as you pull away from his embrace.

Dieter groans, hating that you keep saying that. Because he knows that means that his fun in Vegas will be over if you have your way. “Just lay low.” He shrugs his shoulders and turns around, wanting to look for the pills that he had yesterday. He spots a silk robe and snatches it up, throwing it on but not bothering to close it. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s not - we got married. It is a big deal. It’s a massive deal. I never - I wanted to get married and not get divorced. I wanted to be in love with the man I married. Not - not just - this mess. Oh God. My parents are going to kill me. Everyone expects you to be this reckless but not me. I’m the sensible one. Always have been. I’ve always had to be good.” You admit, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Dieter turns around and stares at you, amazed that you are so…worried about what your parents are going to say. “You’re legal, right?” He demands, squinting at you as if he could tell your age by staring at you. “Worried about your parents? Why? What are they doing for you? Are they supporting you?”

“Of fucking course I’m legal, you idiot.” You huff, “my parents love me and I love them and they are going to be mad when I tell them I accidentally got married in Vegas to a drug addicted actor.” They had told you that moving to L.A was a bad idea and now you’re inclined to agree. 

“Who cares what they think?” Dieter scoffs, finally finding the baggie. 

“Who cares? I do!” You choke, tears stinging in your eyes again. 

“Then just don’t tell them.” Dieter says, like it’s the easiest thing to do. 

You shake your head, “I can’t lie to my parents. I can’t do it.” You watch Dieter roll his eyes. 

“You can. It’s easy. Just tell them you got married for real and they’ll be disappointed when their favorite son-in-law asks for a divorce in six months time but hey, what can you do? It’s fucking life.” You watch him, knowing your parents are gonna wonder what you say in him compared to your clean cut exes.

Dieter pops three of the pills in his mouth and offers you a couple. “Want some?” He asks and you scoff, shaking your head and looking at him in disgust. 

“Shit like that got us into this situation!” 

He rolls his eyes and closes the bag, shoving it in the pocket of the ridiculous pink silk robe. It only comes down to his thigh and doesn’t cover anything since he hasn’t closed it. “Just release a statement saying that after spending a night with you in Vegas, I realized that I couldn’t deny my feelings anymore.” He tells you. “Or say that we’ve been secretly dating for months and just decided to go for it.”

You are surprised he’s suddenly agreed to go along with it. Your eyes dip down to his impressive - even flaccid - cock and realize why he’s so obnoxious. “I think the secretly dating one is the way to go but you have been out with most of the men and women in L.A in the past six months. We gotta explain that.” Your mind whirls with the best way to cover this up. Your PR mind taking over to try and distract you from the panic that you also had sex with your boss. One thing at a time.

He shrugs, obviously unconcerned about the details. “We’re poly.” He chuckles, knowing that with as stiff as you are, there is no way that you would ever be in situation like that. “Or that it was just a front. Throw people off.” He grunts and scratches his belly. “I’m hungry, are you hungry? You should order us breakfast.” He switches topics suddenly and looks at you expectantly. “Doesn’t the wife take care of her hubby?” He teases with a smirk.

You huff, walking over to the phone and you grab the room service menu. “Aren’t husbands supposed to stop their stupid fake friends from roofieing their staff?” You retort, glad that you only have one more day of this before you return to L.A and you can get away from him. His assistant can run around doing this shit. You order a healthy breakfast, making him pout, and you smirk, “I’m looking after you baby.”

“Look after me by ordering bacon.” Dieter grumbles and sighs when you just lift a brow. “I’m going to shower.” Despite the rumors, he did shower. He just dresses like he doesn’t give a fuck. Because he doesn’t. Shooting you a grin, he waggles his brows. “Wanna join?”

You wrinkle your nose, “absolutely not. You haven’t even asked if I’m on birth control. We had sex last night. I take the pill, by the way.” You inform him and he wrinkles his nose. 

“Too many chemicals. You should just check your basal temperature.” 

You shake your head, “how have you not knocked someone up yet?”

Dieter shrugs, not bothering to tell you that he normally does use a condom. Doubting you would believe him. “Guess I’m just lucky like that.” He eyes you again, seeing the streaks of his dried cum on the inside of your thighs. “You wanna take a bath while I shower then? I know you want to clean away the evidence.” His tone is oddly hurt and he purses his lips at you.

You nod, deciding that a bath sounds nice, especially since your body aches. God knows what he did to you last night. You follow him to the bathroom, bending over to turn on the bath and there’s a flash in your mind of Dieter bending you over the bath, his cock buried deep inside of you. You gasp, making Dieter look over at you. 

“You okay?” He frowns and you nod. 

“I’m fine.” You choke, grabbing the bubble bath.

Rolling his eyes, Dieter leans into the marbled shower to turn on the water. It wouldn’t be so horrible being married to you for a few months if you weren’t such a stick in the mud. You’re hot, he had been grateful that he was battling a headache when you were standing in front of him naked. Or maybe he had too much sex last night. Maybe that was the reason he wasn’t popping a boner at the sight of your tits and bare cunt, because he likes the look of you. “I guess we go home this afternoon?” He asks with a pout. It’s his fucking birthday today and he’s gotten yelled at, scolded and there is zero chance of getting a birthday blowjob from you.

You ponder it for a moment, realizing that you can’t just go home. It would look bad. You need to be seen out and about. “We can’t go home today. It’s best if we go out. We are gonna get swarmed but the public needs to see you and your wife out and happy.I’m sure even you can manage to act like you actually love me. Happy birthday by the way.” You offer him a smile despite being so mad that the thing you tried to prevent had happened.

Your smile throws him for a loop and he just stares at you for a moment. It might be the second time that you’ve smiled at him, a nice smile, since you’ve become his PR person. “Thanks.” He swallows back the urge to make a comment, something dirty that you wouldn’t appreciate and just nods. “Okay. Be seen. We can do that.” He shrugs. “What would be good?”

You test the water before stripping off his shirt to sink into the hot water, a moan escaping your lips at how good it feels on your aching muscles. “I’m thinking we go to dinner. No entourage. Then we go dancing. We gotta appear close and I doubt you’d be spending your birthday apart from your wife. This is just until the news has died down so we can divorce.”

He rolls his eyes at how boring that sounds. No doubt dinner will be talking about how much of a fuck up you think he is and the dancing will be some sedate oldies music where no one there is under one hundred. He shrugs off the robe and steps under the shower spray with a groan. “Sounds great, grandma.” He quips. “Senior specials? Gotta get there before five.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes. “No. I’ll book dinner for nine and then we can go to a club. Not a strip club.” You huff, swaying your hands through the water. His sarcasm has pissed you off since it’s technically his fault that you are in this situation. “I gotta go out and get something nice for a club since everything I brought with me is for a nice dinner and not the club. I guess I gotta dress the part of Mrs. Bravo.” The words make you feel sick but what can you do? You need to keep your job and the way to do that is to create the narrative that you’re in love with the man. As disgusting as he can be, you hope you find something good in him. He’s selfish, indulgent, and completely self obsessed. Traits you would never want to marry, yet here you are.

“Got it, you don’t like strip clubs.” He feels guilty, something that he hates feeling. He doesn’t know why, he didn’t spike your drink, but you are stuck with him because of it. “Take my card when you go shopping.” He tells you, shampoo in his hair. “This is my fault, so you should at least be able to buy what you want until it’s done.”

You want to argue and say you can afford your own things but honestly, you deserve something nice since this wasn't your fault. It was his fake fucking friends. You wash up and wash your face, standing up from the bath just as he steps out of the shower, reaching for the towel. He really is sexy in that Oscar the Grouch kind of way.

Water droplets glisten on his chest as he wraps his towel around his waist, covering himself for the first time since he got out of bed. “You’ll need to stay in this suite too.” Dieter reminds you. “The paps watch the hotel rooms.”

You huff, knowing he’s right, and you wrap the towel around yourself. It’s hard to resist licking up that drop of water going down to his - your mind flashes with an image of you doing just that and you stumble. “Shit.” You hiss and he reaches out to steady you, causing you to pull your arm away. “Do you- do you remember anything from last night?” You ask, curious if he’s having these flashes too.

“I-“ Dieter bites his lip and almost lies to you. “I remember most of last night.” He admits quietly. He’s done so many drugs that some things just kind of stick with him. Especially sex. He knows you will probably be mad at him, since you were drugged too, but he didn’t know that you weren’t just drunk.

Your eyes widen but you’re not surprised. He’s done more drugs than most of the population of California combined. He must have some kind of immunity. “Tell me.” You demand. “Tell me everything.”

“I don’t know.” He swallows harshly and gives a small shrug. “We came back to the hotel, but we started in the limo.” He flashes you a grin. “You demanded I eat you out. Told me that you hadn’t cum on someone’s face in a long time.”

You fluster, unable to believe you said that. “And did you?” You ask breathlessly. 

“Of course I fucking did.” He scoffs, “I practically laid on the floor of the limo so I could eat you out. You were bucking against my face like a goddamn bronco.” 

Your cheeks burn and you need to know more despite it being mortifying. “Then what?”

He smirks, amused with how flustered you look. “Then we came back here and had sex. In the bathtub, in the bed, in front of the windows.” He chuckles. “You liked that.”

There’s a flash in your mind of him pushing you up against the window, your cheek smashed against it as he rammed into you. “Oh God.” You choke, unable to believe that he fucked you like that. “No wonder I ache. God, thank God I’m on birth control.” You grip the towel tighter around your body, even though it’s ridiculous now he’s seen every inch of your body.

He hums, not mentioning how you had moaned about how good he felt. He’ll save that for himself. “You wanted it again, wanted to ride but you were so tired I stopped you.” You had pouted at him until he promised you could ride him in the morning. Although it seems like that won’t happen. “You can wear some of my clothes until you get your bags to the room.”

You want the floor to open and swallow you when he says that you wanted to ride him. It’s true you haven’t had sex for - who the fuck knows how long it has been. You can’t even remember. You had seen Dieter naked and now you can see why you wanted to ride his cock. Now you’re sober, you couldn’t do it because it’s Dieter Bravo. “Okay. I will wear some of your clothes then go get my things then I’m gonna go shopping and you are gonna stay here and call your manager to apologize.” You tell him, striding out of the bathroom and you walk into the closet to his suitcase, wrinkling your nose at the lack of options that don’t involve holes or stains. “You need new clothes too.” You tell him, holding up his tatty sweats.

Shrugging, he doesn’t understand why you are upset about his clothes. “So buy me some.” He offers. “Hate shopping. Never do it. All that was stuff I acquired.” Half the time it’s stuff that comes from lovers or once expensive clothes that he wears to death when he’s given them after modeling. “But don’t throw them away.” He huffs, a snatching shirt you had picked up away from you. “They’re comfortable.”

“Comfortable can look good too. These are - what the hell do you do in these clothes?” You pick up a tatty shirt and pull it over your head. “What’s your size? I’ll buy you some clothes. We can’t - I won’t be married to a homeless millionaire.” You scoff, “I promise you’ll be comfortable but you need to look good. Your entire image is your income.”

Dieter snorts and rolls his eyes. “I’m still getting worked, aren’t I?” He asks before he drops his towel and starts rooting around for a pair of boxers. “I need to look good on camera. And the makeup and hair people accomplish that.” He honestly doesn’t care about how he looks off set, comfort is his goal. He works long hours when he’s shooting a movie and it’s always uncomfortable. “I honestly don’t- oh! The last movie.” He rattles off sizes. “That’s what the tailor told me when I was fitted.”

“Okay. I’ll get you some new clothes. I just - I know you think I hate you but I want you to be successful. I want you to look good and be loved by your fans. I want you to have everything you’ve ever wanted and that’s my job. To make you look good. For people to love you. I’ll get you some new clothes and some new shoes. Those Tom’s…they aren’t it.”

“Hey….” Dieter pouts and looks down at the Tom’s he had pushed his feet into after sliding on his boxers. “I left my crocs at home.” He argues. “I could have worn them.” He would have too, he doesn’t care. Although he’s surprised by your speech about wanting things for him. Besides last night, you always seem to look at him like gum on the bottom of your shoe.

“God no. I will get my stuff and then we are going shopping. You’re coming with me so we can get you some new stuff.” You tell him, not taking no for an answer. “Let’s get my stuff and then we can go get started.” You shove your feet into your shoes, grateful you didn’t wear heels last night.

“I hate shopping.” He whines, huffing dramatically. “I hate it. It’s boring and people are always assholes.” He hates having to make small talk and all the fucking sales associates thought if they talked to him that he would buy more shit.

You roll your eyes, “tough shit. Your wife wants to go shopping.” You quip and make your way out of the closet to grab your purse, intent on going to your room to change. “Breakfast should be arriving soon. I’ll get my stuff, we can eat, and then we will go out.”

“Bossy.” The fact that his cock twitches doesn’t surprise him, he likes following orders sometimes. “Fine, we’ll go shopping.” He calls out as you walk out of the closet. “But I’m going to complain the whole time!”

****

You hold up the shirt against him, liking the purple against his skin tone. “I like this. What do you think?” You ask, knowing that people are watching you and taking photos but there’s nothing you can do.

“It’s fine.” Dieter huffs, hating the actual shopping more than the color or style of the shirt. He always feels like a rat in a glass cage when he goes shopping. “If you like it, get it. I’ll wear whatever.”

You huff back, hating his lack of enthusiasm and you know it’s because he hates being with you. “We will get it and then we can go, okay hon?” You promise, knowing he’s uncomfortable. “I won’t make you endure this anymore.” You take the shirt over to the cashier and you feel guilty when you see the total. “I’m sorry. Oh God. I didn’t know - I can put stuff back.” You tell him, picking up the clothes.

Dieter scoffs and takes the clothes out of your hand and sets them back down on the counter. “You want it, don’t you?” He asks, reaching into his pocket to pull out his little card case. The black card is quickly snatched up by the sales associate. “Besides, you told me you wanted to go shopping. Shopping means buying things.”

“Yeah but -” Your protest is cut short as the sales associate starts to fold the clothes. All of these are for Dieter. Yours are already on the way to the hotel. “I promise you I’ll pay you back.” You vow and he shakes his head. Dieter spends more than this a week on coke. 

“Anything to make you happy dear.” He sasses and you playfully slap him, a little too hard but you don’t want to look like you’re not flirtatious with the sales associate there. 

“Happy wife happy life.” You quip.

Dieter rolls his eyes and shoots the clerk a grin. “She’s already figured it out.” He tells them. “I just go along to get along.” He can almost say it with a straight face, but he looks over at you and shoots you a playful wink. “As long as you model the clothes you bought, or let me throw them on the floor, we’re good, baby.” He takes the opportunity to slide his hand down your back and squeeze your ass.

You want to be disgusted but you’ve had more flashes in your mind about how he fucked you and it’s beyond anything you could imagine. So sexy and intense. You find yourself being attracted to him and it’s so dangerous. You’re supposed to hate him, hate how he’s a PR nightmare, one that you’ve now gotten involved in, but you just want him to squeeze your ass again.

His grin gets wider when you don’t gasp and he leans in to kiss your cheek, making sure he drops another kiss right at the corner of your mouth. You’re a little looser than you were last night when the plane landed and he likes that. After your champagne at the strip club, he had ditched Cindy or whatever her fucking name was and it had been all about you. Not that what’s her name minded, she had latched onto some IG model that was there.

You can't stop the shiver that runs through your body and you hope he thinks it's from disgust. "Thank you." You tell the sales associate who promises to take your purchases back to your hotel room. You hold Dieter's hand as you walk back to your hotel. "Gotta let people take photos." You murmur, realizing how many people recognize him and you feel terrible that this is his life every day.

“I know.” He keeps his voice down, but he squeezes your hand. “That's why I hate shopping. The stores turn into a giant fucking fish bowl.” He’s feeling a little jittery, wishing you had let him take something before you left the hotel. But you had said you wanted people to see him happy and sober. Dieter didn’t mention that no one had seen him like that.

You notice how anxious he is and you feel awful for forcing him out like this. You can’t imagine being recognized like this. To be constantly under the public eye. You can understand why he finds solace in the drugs. “It’s okay. Don’t pay attention to them. You’re okay sweetheart. We are going back to the room.” You promise, feeling his hand shake in yours.

He grips your hand a little tighter and looks over at you, almost pathetically grateful that you are here. “Now you know why I’m normally baked.” He quips with a crooked grin.

You feel sorry for him, finally recognizing why he doesn’t dress nicer or go out or be sober. You can’t imagine the stress he must have even going out to the grocery store. You are swift to get him back into the hotel but you enter the elevator and what appears to be several young women all gasp when you enter. “Oh my God it’s Dieter Bravo.” One of them announces and you find yourself defensive when they start to take selfies without even asking. 

“Hey. Can you not just take his photo? You could at least ask.” You huff and one of the women points at you. 

“You’re his beard.” She declares. 

“His what?” You narrow your eyes. 

“He’s actually with a man but you are his cover up so female fans think he’s still an option. It’s okay honey, we all know you’re not his type anyway. He likes them looking like supermodels. You’re…average.” She drags her eyes down your body and you feel every insecurity you’ve tried to overcome rush back over you.

“Hey.” Dieter scowls and shakes his head, pushing the outstretched hands with phones away and reaches for you to tug you close to his side. “How about you not talk about my wife like that?” He demands. “Have I been with men? Yep, not a secret.” 

Dieter has never cared how he was perceived, he was too self absorbed for that, but he’d be damned if someone was going to insult his fake marriage. “And your logic makes zero fucking sense. I like men, but then I like women who look like supermodels, so she isn’t good enough?” He rolls his eyes and smirks. “Be jealous all you want but don’t be a bitch to her. And you can swing by the hotel room to hear how unattractive I find her later.”

You can’t deny that you are turned on by his display. His defense of you is sexy and you can’t stop the smirk appearing on your lips as the woman is shocked, blinking several times until her friends usher her off of the elevator when it arrives on their floor. “Thank you.” You tell him, “you didn’t have to do that.”

“Husbands protect their wives, right?“ he likes the way that your hand is on his chest, the admiration in your eyes appealing. It’s real, unlike a lot of the shit he gets. “Besides, they are fucking insane. You aren’t average, your fucking gorgeous.”

You fluster, caressing his chest before stepping away. You can’t get involved with him, this is a PR disaster to begin with, let alone getting actual emotions involved. He’s more than what you thought he was. “Thank you. You- you aren’t too bad yourself.” You tell him just as the elevator doors open and you walk to his suite.

He snorts, appreciating the sass and his eyes are glued to your ass as you walk. The maid has come while the two of you are gone and the suite is nice and tidy. “So, I guess we need to talk about what’s going to happen when we go back to L.A.” he doesn’t want to, but he also doesn’t want you lecturing him when the two of you had such a good moment.

You sigh, knowing he’s not gonna like your response. “We need to live together. Just until we divorce. The paps might catch me leaving my home or not being in your home. It will raise questions and we need people to think we are together and stop questioning…like that woman did. We need to - to make this work and when we divorce, you can tell everyone that I’m the evil woman that broke your heart so you can get all the attention and hopefully your next role.”

Dieter shakes his head. “No,” he frowns at the idea of what that would do to your career. “We’ll come up with something better than that.” He insists. “I- there’s three other bedrooms in the house.” He offers, looking over at the door to the bedroom of the suite. “You can have whatever room you want.” He sighs. “I’m a selfish asshole, but I’d never make you stay in the same room or sleep with me.”

You appreciate how he isn’t forcing you into more than what you have agreed. “It will only be for a few months. We need to suffer each other until people get bored of you being married. Tonight, we need to put on a show to convince the public we are married. I’m sorry this happened. I know you didn’t want to get married.” You sigh, having heard him say that several times when his manager would try to set him up on dates.

“Yeah, I know you don’t want to be married to me.” He reminds you with a rueful grin. “I’m not complaining though. I get to say I know what you look like when you cum.” Winking at you playfully. “So I’ve got that goin for me.” He’s thought about it all day today and he knows that it’s not going to happen, but it’s a nice thought.

You roll your eyes playfully and slap his chest. “That’s not gonna happen again. It was…a lapse in judgment. We can’t do that again. It will complicate things even more. That was…it was the drugs.” You lie despite knowing you’d love for Dieter to fuck you again.

“Yeah….the drugs.” Dieter frowns at the reminder and turns around to start striding to the bedroom. “I’m gonna go find my coke.” He calls over his shoulder. “You can do whatever you want. If my manger calls, tell her to fuck off, I’m on my honeymoon.

You chuckle, starting to unpack and hang up the clothes you’d bought him so he can pick out an outfit for later. Everything is stylish yet comfortable. You admire the dresses you’d bought for yourself, excited to wear something beautiful that you could never afford. Dieter lays on the bed, napping between snorting the coke, and he watches some movie while you get ready for your dinner. You take your time to do your hair and makeup, coming back out in a robe. “Bathroom is free. I’m gonna get changed.” You tell Dieter.

His hair is sticking up in every direction, not caring to style it after his shower this morning but he sits up when you walk past. Your makeup is sexy and your hair perfect. You look like an actress getting ready to perform her starring role. Right…this is just an act you are putting on so you can divorce him in six months. Dieter grunts and shuffles off the bed to trudge into the bathroom. If you want this to be a role, he can give you that. He’ll be your perfect co-star.

When you are ready, you walk back into the bedroom to find Dieter walking out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, water droplets still rolling down his skin, but his hair is styled and he has shaved. Fuck, he looks good. “You, uh, you look good like that.” You manage to choke out, hoping he likes your riskier outfit. You know that being with Dieter means you have to have a certain image. The man wouldn’t be married to someone who wears jeans and sneakers all day every day. So you hope he likes the skimpy dress you had bought for tonight.

His mouth drops open slightly, eyes fixed on the skin you are showing and his cock twitches. He loves it and he hates it, because he’s not going to be able to touch you. “You look amazing.” He compliments you breathlessly. “We need to see those cunts in the elevator again.” He chuckles. “Let them see I’m sporting a constant boner.”

“Thank you.” You giggle nervously, eyes dipping down to the slight tent under his towel and there’s a flash behind your eyes of you sucking his cock. Fuck, you can’t let him touch you again. You have to keep this professional. “Did you take viagra again?” You tease, sliding your feet into your heels to distract yourself from pulling him close and kissing him.

Scoffing, Dieter shakes his head. “Hell no.” He doesn’t add that there would be no point since he’s not getting laid on his birthday. “Natural reaction to you, sweetheart.” He turns and walks towards the closet. “Another reason I wear baggy clothes.”

You pause, watching him walk away, and you wonder if he’s just joking with you or if he’s being serious. Has he always found you attractive or does he even find you attractive now? After he is dressed, you swear your pussy drips because damn, he looks so sexy when he’s dressed up and tidy. “You look- you look good.” You choke, hoping your face doesn’t betray you, and you fumble to grab your purse so you can make your dinner reservation on time.

Dieter smirks and holds his arm out for you to take with a wink. “Can’t embarrass my wife when I take her out, can I?” He coos, knowing you hate being reminded that you married him. He can be charm itself when he wants to be and surprisingly, he only took a single Xanax while he was getting ready. The wedding band on his hand is foreign, but it somehow mixes with his other rings. “Ready to put on a show?”

With a sigh, you nod, wrapping your fingers around his arm and let him guide you out of the hotel room to the elevator. He seems…sober. You’re not used to seeing Dieter sober like this and you find you like him more. He’s not as brash or obnoxious. He’s charming and, surprisingly sweet. “I just want this to be successful so you don’t end up another failed Hollywood marriage. You don’t wanna beat Kim K and Britney on an annulment, do you?” You tease as you step onto the elevator and you lower your hand from his arm.

“First place is first place.” He jokes, looking up at the LED monitor that shows the floors rapidly descending. “Besides, I’m sure that whoever you are dating wants to kick my ass and have their girlfriend back.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, feeling twitching and he doesn’t want to touch you more than he needs to. He likes it too much. “Just blame everything on me. They’ll believe I did something stupid.”

You snort, “you think I’m-? First of all, no. I’m single. Have been for…longer than I care to admit. Second, I would never do what I did with you if I was with someone. I was drugged and - God, thank fuck I wasn’t with someone because we - it wasn’t exactly once that night.” You’ve had more flashes, able to piece most of your night together. The things he did to you…they should honestly be illegal, it felt far too good. “Legally, I’m yours. Reality, I’m no one’s.” You answer him, feeling a little insecure that you haven’t dated anyone for a while since you’ve been so busy with work.

“Yeah, I get it.” The doors open and Dieter takes a breath before plastering a happy look on his face. “The only reason you would ever look at me is because you were drugged.” He sighs under his breath, his low tone at odds with his expression. “Can you please stop reminding me how much you hate me. It’s my birthday.”

You take his hand, “I promise you I will make sure you have a good birthday. Come on, let’s go get dinner. I’m starving. Then we can go dancing.” You can’t wait to let loose a little and remember it instead of the crazy night you had before.

The photographers are everywhere, lights flashing and Dieter just smiles and acts proud that he is with you. Lifting up your joined hands and kissing the back of yours. “Dieter! What made you marry your PR agent?” 

Dieter laughs and gives you a smoldering smirk. “Well I’ve been in love with her for forever and finally managed to convince her that I was serious. She thought I was acting!”

He is acting but damn, the loving look in his eyes almost convinced you that he loves you. “And we decided to just go for it since I’ve been in love with him too.” You coo, kissing Dieter’s cheek and the cameras flash once more. You gasp when Dieter turns his head to press his lips to yours and you let him kiss you for a moment. “Sorry fellas. We are gonna be late for dinner. Thank you.” You declare, squeezing Dieter’s hand and he guides you through the crowd of paps.

Getting into the car is relatively easy and he allows you to slide into the car before him. The driver pulls away and he looks over at you with a smirk. “Looks like they believed you.” His lips burn where he had kissed you and he turns to look out the window so he doesn’t try to do it again. “They might fall in love with you.”

You snort, looking out of the window. “If you don’t like me, I doubt they will love me. I’m just a five minute wonder. When the Kardashians or the Hadid sisters do something, I’ll be old news and that’s when we can divorce under the radar. We just gotta make them think we are in love for the time being. I know that will be hard but you’re an Oscar winning actor so you should be able to manage it.” You wonder if you’ll be able to manage it. He’s more than what you thought he was, already changing your opinion after twenty four hours in his company. Maybe it’s a residue high from the drug. You don’t know.

Dieter sighs and doesn’t comment. It won’t do any good. You wouldn’t believe him if he told you that while he hadn’t been in love with you, he had found you very attractive and he liked the sass and the fact that you didn’t put up with his shit. He was contrary by nature and you were just so good. And last night….fuck, you showed him how wild you could be.

When you arrive at the restaurant, there’s another throng of paps and fans with their cameras but the restaurant staff usher you inside to a private booth and you exhale in relief when you lean back against the cool leather. “I don’t know how you handle that all the time.” You say to Dieter when he sits beside you.

“Drugs.” Dieter jokes, giving a small shrug as he reaches for the water glass. It’s not wine, but he will order a bottle quick enough and he’s oddly thirsty. “Some days it’s okay, especially when I meet someone who is passionate about movies, but it can be a lot when it’s the paps.”

“I can only imagine. It’s…intense. I’m sorry you have to deal with that. I sit at a desk and don’t really see that side of it. The reality of it. For so long, I’ve just done damage control on different situations you’ve gotten into like when you hit the pap and I never - I always thought you overreacted but now I know.”

He stares at you a moment, amazed that you had just said that. When he had hit the pap, you had raked his ass over the coals. “Thanks.” He ducks his head slightly to study the menu. “Hopefully they don’t bother you too badly.”

"I can handle them. They just need to be bored by me and they will move on. If we have an orgy in the middle of the strip, then we might be on their radar." You joke, browsing the menu. "Shit. This place is pricey. I didn't -" You are cut when Dieter rolls his eyes and tuts. 

"Hellooo?? My wife gets whatever she wants. Plus, I make way more money than I need. Probably why I buy so much coke." He murmurs to himself and you fluster at the way he easily calls you his wife even though no one is around to hear. 

The waiter comes over and Dieter orders the wine and you soon order your meal. "I don't - I haven't really been anywhere this nice before. My parents always preferred to cook homemade meals and special occasions were few and far between and my exes, none really took me anywhere super nice."

He snorts and rolls his eyes. “Wow, sounds like you dated some winners.” He doesn’t mind spending money, the people he hangs out with would verify that. But someone like you needs to be appreciated. “Well, while you are married to me, you can do whatever you want and eat everywhere you’ve wanted to try.” He lifts his brows. “A Hollywood wife must be seen after all.”

You chuckle, "I guess so." You watch the wine sommelier pour the wine for Dieter to taste and he nods, letting the man pour you a glass before filling Dieter's up. "To being fake married." You toast softly with a smirk on your lips as you clink your glass against his. "To being fake married." He responds and you take a sip of the wine, moaning in appreciation of the fruity full bodied red wine.

Your moan punches him in the gut, making it twist as he members the way you sounded last night. You still haven’t realized that he knew that the two of you got married. He wonders what you will say when you rationalize it out.

You eagerly dig into your appetizer. So hungry after so much stress. You see Dieter fidget and flex his fingers as he plays with his food. “Is everything okay?” You ask, reaching for his left hand. Another flash plays through your mind of when he slid the diamond ring onto your finger. You gasp and squeeze his hand. “Do you - if you remember last night us having - then you must remember us getting married?”

Shit…..Dieter stares down at his plate and swallows, suddenly not hungry. You are going to be pissed at him. “I do.” He admits, not looking up. He doesn’t want to see the anger on your face. Plus it hurts less when he gets slapped if he doesn’t see it coming.

You inhale sharply, now knowing that he married you and remembers it. He knew what he was doing. You feel betrayed. "Why?" You whisper, unable to muster anything else.

Dieter sighs and leans back in his chair, wishing that he had done some Coke before dinner. “It was your idea.” He reveals. “You climbed into my lap and told me that you had always wanted to slap me and then kiss me.” He huffs out a small chuckle. “So I told you to do it.” He picks up his wine glass and takes a long gulp. “It went from there, but you asked me to marry you.”

Your eyes widen. “I- I asked you- oh God.” You lean back in your seat, absorbing the news that you asked him to marry you. “Why - did I give a reason why? I need you to tell me everything.” You order, leaning closer to him.

 He gives a small shrug. “I thought you had just decided to take the stick out of your ass.” He defends himself. “Plus I wasn’t close to sober. But we made out in the club, damn near had sex in that booth. Then we went cruising down the strip and you saw the chapel and demanded we pull over.” He chuckles. “You claimed you loved those cliche movies about eloping and something about it could be a weird version of married at first sight?” He shrugs. “I didn’t know what you were talking about, but you were happy.”

You stare at him, tears stinging in your eyes and you swallow harshly. The tang of the wine on your lips when you lick them. “Wow. I- wow. It was me.” You can’t believe it was you that suggested getting married but you supposed it makes sense now. You sigh and reach for his hand. “I’m so sorry. It’s my fault we are in this fucked up mess and I - oh God. I’m so sorry sweetheart. I shouldn’t - my parents got divorced when I was a teenager so I guess I’ve always wanted to get married and do it right but now I’ve completely fucked that up.”

He reaches out and covers your hand with his other one. “It’s okay.” He knows how you feel now, in the light of day. He should have known you weren’t yourself, but he convinced himself that you had just given into bottled up feelings. It’s not true though, you are horrified at being married to him. So you’ll get it annulled or get a divorce or whatever. “We’ll have you single again in no time.” He chuckles and sends you a wink. “Smart girl, we got married without a prenup too.”

Your eyes widen, “oh God. I didn’t - I don’t want your money Dieter. You can keep it. I don’t - I don’t want you to think I did this because of - because of the money. I didn’t.” You promise, “I don’t - oh God. What a mess…and it’s all my fault. I’m so sorry.” You shake your head, knowing that your job is to protect his image and you’re the one who got you in this position.

He chuckles, enjoying the abject horror on your face. “Nah. I’ll just sign up for some really shitty movie, Cliff Beasts 75 or some shit, and tell the press at the junket that it’s so I could pay my alimony.” He teases, squeezing your hand so you don’t think he’s serious.

You roll your eyes at him, half playful, and you look down at your joined hands. For some reason, it feels far too right to hold his hand, even with the ghastly amount of rings he has on each hand. “So you wanted to marry me…even though I’ve done nothing but be rude to you?” You ask, frowning again.

“What can I say?” He gives a small shrug. “I’m a masochist.” His joke is meant to make you roll your eyes and scoff, perhaps say something sarcastic. Anything to keep you from delving into why he thought marrying you was a good idea. He was high, sure, but he never was so high that he married someone else before. His insecurities and loneliness came out last night and in typical Dieter fashion, he was selfish.

You stare at him, unsure of what to think, but you can see something in his eyes. You just can’t put your finger on it. “I- I’m sorry I’ve been such a bitch to you. I should’ve been more professional and I understand why you…self medicate. It must be so overwhelming.” You squeeze his hand just as the waiter comes over with your food.

He doesn’t respond with a pithy reply, instead he just leans back and lets the server set down the food. He speaks when the extra ears have left. “I get it, I’m annoying.” He gives a small shrug. “Byproduct of being lonely, I guess.”

You feel sorry for him which surprises you. You can’t imagine how lonely it must be to not know who your true friends are. To know that everyone wants something from you. “I- I really am sorry Dieter. I don’t think you’re as annoying now that I understand why. You’re just…eccentric.” You tell him and start to eat, wondering what you can do to make this man happy. How bizarre, to have gone from loathing him to…something else in less than twenty four hours.

“Don’t feel sorry for me.” He’s slightly prickly after exposing something so raw. “My life is great. Drugs, sex, whatever I want.” He huffs like it’s ridiculous to imagine being unhappy. “I live in Sherman Oaks.”

You snort, “money doesn’t buy happiness. It’s clear that you are lonely and you buy your friends and your lovers. It’s…I want more for you Dieter. You deserve to be truly happy. I know we have fucked up with this marriage but you deserve to be with someone who loves you.

Dieter sighs, knowing that will never happen. He either fucks up or they do. Or they never loved him at all. “Can we talk about something less depressing?” He whines before he changes the subject. “Like you showing me your tits at the strip club?”

Your eyes widen, “I did what?!?” Your mouth drops and you lower your knife and fork. 

“Yeah. You flashed your tits while we were in the club. Said you could get up on that stage and make me hard.” Dieter smirks at how mortified you are. 

“Oh my God. I didn’t.” You cringe, knowing you must’ve embarrassed yourself while high thanks to your constant need to suppress your wilder side.

“You did.” He chuckles and leans in. “But you were right, I did get hard.” He smirks and winks at you. “Got really hard. You liked it. Really liked it.” You had loved how hard he was and that he was a multiple rounds kind of guy.

You fluster, another flash in your mind of you taking his cock into your mouth in the limo, and your cheeks burn. “Oh shit. I did. God, I- I didn’t know - I’ve never behaved that way. I just - oh no. I’m so sorry.” You wince, not even wanting to know what he thought of you. “I, uh, I never behave that way. At least not outside of my kind.”

Dieter grins, eyes alight with dirty delight. “Yeah?” He gives a low chuckle. “You have a lot of dirty thoughts swimming around in that pretty little head if yours?” He nods. “Yeah, you do. You probably read all those smutty romances and watch porn thinking about what you would do if you just let yourself.”

You fluster, thinking of all of the books you’ve read and the porn you’ve watched. “A lot of dirty thoughts.” You murmur, looking into those beautiful dark eyes of his that are just one of the reasons he’s such a popular actor. You lick your lips and shift a little closer to him. “We shouldn’t - we should keep this professional.” Your eyes dip down to his lips and you remember how good it felt to kiss him. You want that again.

“Maybe.” Dieter gives a careless shrug, as if it’s of no consequence. “Although….we already have. And you are my wife.” He reminds you with a grin. “So technically speaking, fucking each other’s brains out would be keeping it professional.” He can tell you are curious. If it’s because you don’t remember a lot of last night or if you want to see what Dieter Bravo is like in bed, he doesn’t know. “You know what they say. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.”

You want to kiss him, fuck, you really do, but crossing that line isn’t something you can let go. You pull back, swallowing down the lump in your throat. “I- I don’t think it would, considering everyone takes our photo.” You gesture to the people across the room who are trying to covertly take your photo. You go back to your food, knowing it’s for the best. “We can go dancing after this, show off those infamous moves.” You nudge him playfully, trying to lighten the mood.

He wants to pout, but he knows that he’s not going to push. He never pushes, it goes against his code. “Okay.” He lown meal and forks up a bite. You don’t want to sleep with him again. Fitting for the woman who hadn’t even wanted to come here. He can see you retreat back into your professional armor and he sighs softly. “We’ll dance for like an hour, then I think I’m just going to go to bed early.” He decides. “There’s got to be another baggie in the room somewhere.”

You sigh, wishing he wouldn’t escape in drugs. Maybe some therapy would help him process better. You push that thought aside and know that you’re not his actual wife so that would be overstepping. The rest of dinner is spent in silence and you groan when you finish dessert. “I don’t think I’ve had a meal that good…ever.” You dread to think what the bill is going to say.

Groaning in agreement, Dieter doesn’t even look at the bill when it comes, pulling his wallet out of his jacket pocket and handing the card to the waiter as he reaches for his wine glass to drain the last sip. “Have you decided what club?”

“Not a strip club.” You snort and he pouts, making you playfully slap his arm. “Not a strip club. There’s this club at Venetian that’s supposed to be nice. Let’s go there and we can dance then go back to the room because these shoes aren’t gonna hold up an entire night.” You stretch your legs, accidentally brushing against his. “Thank you for dinner.” You tell him when the waiter sets the bill down.

“You’re welcome.” For all his douchebaggery, Dieter tips. He had spent too many years waiting tables to survive while he was working towards breaking into the business. He signs a large tip and scrawls his signature before he takes his card and closes the leather booklet. “Ready?” He asks, standing up and moving over to your chair.

You take his hand, happy to keep your hands joined as he guides you out of the restaurant and through the hotel to your awaiting limo. Dieter tells the driver the name of the club and he leans back in the leather seat as the driver makes his way across the strip. “Can I ask you a question?” You ask and he chuckles, “you just did.” You roll your eyes and look at him and he nods. “Why do you do the drugs? What about it makes you - makes you happy?”

That hadn’t been the question he was expecting. He frowns slightly and thinks about how to answer. “It’s freeing. Fun.” He gives a small shrug. “I like the way I think, the way I feel when I’m high. It can be creative.” He snorts. “Or it can make me not give a fuck about what’s going on.”

You nod in understanding, “I can get that. Just - just being you without any kind of mental barrier. I just - last night I was free. I have never acted like that before.” You admit, “but don’t you ever get tired of it? Don’t you ever want something real?”

Dieter scoffs. “Real checked out when my first multi million dollar role was announced.” He tells you. “Real left when I slept with someone only to have them sell pictures to The Sun.” He gives a shrug that’s meant to hide the hurt and betrayal that he had felt when he realized that he was just some kind of commodity to a lot of people. “Maybe one day, when I’m old and the roles stop coming in, or they aren’t blockbusters or Oscar winners.”

You feel sad for him, you can see the pain in his eyes. He feels used and not truly loved, he has been wrung out for every penny people can get out of him. “I’m sorry you’ve been treated like that. You deserve to be treated like any other human. Just because you’re famous doesn’t mean you don’t get to be treated with respect. I- I can understand now why you act that way you do. It’s an escape and a facade. If you don’t let them see the real you, you won’t get hurt.”

“Knew you were a smart cookie.” It’s not exactly a compliment, because it means he’s let you see beyond his facade. He looks out of the car window and chuckles to himself. “Want to flash the strip?” He asks, making a crude joke to lighten the mood.

You chuckle, rolling your eyes at him. “No I don’t. I’m not even drunk.” You tell him, “or drugged. God, I really did flash my tits everywhere. Thank God no one got a photo of it.” You cringe at the thought.

“Oh there are photos.” Dieter smirks, holding up his phone. “But only I get to see pics of my wifey like that.” He had every intention of deleting them, but hadn’t remembered to do it yet. “You wanna see?”

Your eyes widen, “you took photos? Oh my God. You asshole.” You slap his arm making him give a dramatic “ow” then you demand he shows you. He grins and unlocks his phone, pulling up the photos he had taken. “Oh God. I- I look - I look hot.” You settle on that word. You look happy and carefree and hot. Words you never thought you’d put together.

“Yeah you do.” You do look hot, doing exactly what you wanted and not apologizing for it. The picture where you were pushing your tits together and winking at him is his favorite. Inviting him to come suck on him. He had waited until the limo to do that. “But no one else got photos. Apparently there’s not supposed to be photos taken in the club.”

You stare at the photos, not even recognizing yourself. You look so happy. You don’t remember the last time you were that happy. Work took over and then your relationships were lackluster and you haven’t had much time for yourself. “That’s good. You, uh, can you send those to me? I really like them.” You admit quietly, loving that side of yourself that you’ve never seen.

He lifts his brow in surprise, not expecting you to want to keep any evidence of you letting loose. “Sure.” He nods and opens his messages to start sending you the photos. If you want them, you will have them. “I’ll delete them off my phone after I send them to you, but I don’t believe in that sharing photos shit. That’s disgusting.”

You have a new appreciation for him, knowing that he is many things but he isn’t a liar. “Thank you.” You kiss his cheek, wanting to thank him for being a good man. Your phone buzzes and you ignore it since the limo pulls up outside of the Venetian. “More paps but after that, it’s time to celebrate your birthday. First round is on me.” You promise, grabbing your purse as the driver opens the door.

Dieter follows you out of the limo, wrapping his arm around your waist and starting to weave through the paps. If he didn’t know better, he would think someone tipped them off. Smiling and grinning like he’s happy they are all witnessing his arrival, he tugs you closer. “Talk later! Gotta dance!”

You sigh, knowing you will need to investigate who tipped the paps off. You imagine it’s his assistant who arranged the reservations. “I’m sorry. I don’t - I’ll gotta find out who tipped them off.” You tell him as you take his hand, walking through the casino and you sigh in relief when you see the entrance to the club after several fans took photos of you and Dieter. “It’s exhausting. Having to be ‘on’ all the time.” You can’t imagine how he handles it. You enter the club, skipping the line, and are escorted to the VIP section.

Ordering a drink is quick, the server specifically assigned to your section for preferential treatment. “What do you want, sweetheart?” He asks, leaning in and speaking into your ear over the loud music. His arm is wrapped around your shoulders and the entire world would believe that you two are are enamored with each other.

You force yourself to not turn your head, your lips would be so close, and you know that kissing him, or touching him, would complicate things even more. He looks so good though, the lights flashing over his face, and you want to just protect him from the fucked up world he is in and keep him safe and...loved. Shit, you gotta push that thought out of your mind. You mumble that you want a vodka soda and Dieter orders a whole bottle. "Gonna be a good night." He promises, his lips against your ear and it makes you shiver.

The music plays as the two of you wait for your drinks. He’s aware that there are eyes on the two of you, taking advantage of it by stroking your arm and leaning close, nuzzling your cheek with his nose. “You look delicious in that dress.” He breathes into your ear. “Can’t wait to dance with you.”

You try to smother your whimper as your entire body lights up from his simple touch. Biting your lip, you turn your head to look at him and you swear he looks angelic with the lights flashing over his handsome face. He’s no angel though, he’s the devil in disguise. “Let’s dance.” You tell him, not bothered about the drinks.

Dieter smirks as you practically drag him out onto the dance floor. He doesn’t normally dance as much as wildly gyrate, but he can grind on someone. It helps that even though he’s behind you, you are leading the dance, something that is wildly sexy to him as he lets you take control.

You grab his hands, placing them on your hips as you grind back against him. You may be stiff and starchy most days to be professional but you love to dance. You don’t care who’s watching, deciding to finally let loose and you grind your ass against Dieter. Dipping low and pushing up against him as you grab his hands to help you stand upright. You put on a show that he clearly likes if his hardening cock pressing against your ass is anything to go by.

He groans, grinding against you and gripping your hips harshly. “God.” He hisses in your ear, loving how uninhibited you are being. “You are so dirty under that prissy veneer, aren’t you?” He teases. “You would do anything right now, wouldn’t you?”

​​You gasp when he bites down on your earlobe. “God yes. I would. I just - I haven’t had anyone to bring this side out of me.” His words send a thrill through you and you grind back even harder, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck, arching your back.

Chuckling against your ear, he slides his hand down your hip, fingers teasing the edge of your dress and tracing the hem. “Let me.” He demands, waiting to see if you push his hand away. When you don’t, his cock throbs against your ass as he dips his fingers under the dress and starts caressing the skin of your thighs as he works his way higher to the beat of the music. 

You don’t push his hand away, leaning back against him, and you whimper when his fingers press against your clit through your panties. “Fuck Dieter.” You moan into his neck when you turn your head. You know you shouldn’t be doing this, this is going to complicate things and you haven’t got the excuse that you’re drugged. You’ve had a couple of glasses of wine. You are practically sober and his hand is under your dress.

“You said that so many times last night.” He coos in your ear, rubbing your clit over your panties. “Fuck Dieter, harder.” He moans. “Fuck Dieter, your in my guts.” He slips a finger under the fabric and pushes it inside you, his thumb still outside your panties and pressed against your clit.

You don’t have the capacity to be embarrassed at what you had said to him last night. The flashes you had gotten told you that you loved what he had done to you. His thick digit inside of you has you gasping his name and his chuckle makes you gush, getting more aroused while you continue grinding on him. “God, what else did I say?” You ask with a raspy moan.

“That my cock was the best you ever had and you wanted to ride it.” He pumps his finger in and out of your tight, hot cunt - loving how you’re gripping it. It’s dirty, doing it right here on the dance floor and he loves it. “Whined when I told you to go to sleep. I think you would have slept with me inside you.”

His words cause a whine to rise up your throat, making you grab onto his hair as he works his digit in and out of you. "Oh God. That - that means you must've done a good job making me cum. Was I - was I good for you? Did you enjoy it?" You ask, knowing he's had more sex than you've had hot dinners so it's a valid question and you hope he doesn't lie to appease you.

“Fuck yes it was good.” He groans in your ear and slides another finger under the panties to push in with the other on the next twist of his wrist. “Fucking hot and tight. Like a perfect glove.” He twitches against your ass.

His second finger stretches you just right and you start to lean more against him as he works you towards an orgasm. "Oh fuck baby. You're gonna make me - it's so good. Dieter. I-" You turn your head to bite down on his neck. The music is loud but you don't need to alert people around you that Dieter just made you cum. His fingers work you through it and you slump back against him, feeling almost dizzy from the pleasure. "So good." You murmur, eyes closed as you breathe him in.

Dieter whines as he pulls his soaked fingers out of your cunt, holding them up so the shiny cum can catch the light in front of your eyes before he slides them into his mouth with a grin. You’re leaning against him and not moving to the music any more. “Time for that drink, right?” He murmurs in your ear, kissing the shell again.

You nod dumbly, feeling his cock hard and twitching against your ass as he guides you back to the VIP section. When you are under the stroud of exclusive cover, you reach for his pants. "Want to make you feel good too." All care of your PR job goes flying out the window as you scramble to pull his hard cock out of his pants. The section you're in is private and the curtains hide you from near everyone in the club. When his cock is finally free, you groan at the sight of it. It's beautiful, thick and veiny and you immediately lean down to take him into your mouth, not caring about anything other than making him cum.

“Shit.” Dieter hisses at the surprise move, throwing his head back as his hand comes to rest on the back of yours. He hadn’t expected this. Maybe some teasing, but he knows you aren’t drunk or have taken anything. This is you, taking him into your mouth and moaning around him like he’s a fucking lollipop you’ve craved. “Fuck, baby. You are so dirty, I love it.” His other hand slides around your side to squeeze your tit through your dress. “My wifey’s a little exhibitionist, sucking my cock in the club.”

This is so wrong. You shouldn’t be doing this but fuck, you can’t stop yourself. His moans and the way he touches you spurs you on and you bob on his cock, using your hand to work the length that you can’t take down your throat.

Letting out a needy whine, Dieter’s eyes close and he shuffles his hips up slightly. Wanting you to try to take him deeper. “Oh fuck baby, that mouth, oh fuck it’s so good.” He rambles, practically shuddering under the hot pressure of your palette against the head. “So good, you- fuck baby.” He forces his eyes open again to watch you suck his cock, amazed that this is happening and everyone is sober. 

You’re sober but you’re also drunk on Dieter. Taking him deeper until you are choking around his thick cock. You breathe through your nose, working him deeper until you aren’t gagging. Hollowing your cheeks, you press your tongue against the underside of his cock. Your eyes water but you force yourself to open them to meet his gaze, wanting to look at him.

Dieter is such a fucking needy little shit that the moment that you lock eyes with him, his entire body gives in. Gasping out your name, his cock starts to throb, face twisting pleasure while he is pumping ropes of salty cum into your mouth. 

You struggle to keep up, swallowing each spurt of cum, but a drop escapes to drip down your chin and lands on his pants. Working him through his orgasm, you pull off of his cock and kiss the tip, loving the way he twitches, then you lean down to lap up the drop that is threatening to stain his pants.

“Jesus Christ.” When you are sitting up, Dieter lunges forward to press his lips to yours. Sliding his tongue into your mouth, not caring about the taste of his own cum in your mouth, just needing to kiss you. Dragging you closer while he groans and deepens the kiss for a long minute before he pulls away and sighs as he nudges his nose against yours. “Shit…I wasn’t expecting a birthday blowjob.” He giggles, practically euphoric.  

“Neither was I.” You admit with a giggle, kissing his jaw. “I just - I can’t seem to stop touching you now. I want to give you birthday sex.” You murmur, wanting to recreate the night before and relive the flashes you get here and there. “Plus it will be good if people believe we are actually married, like not just on paper. Maybe a noise complaint will help our case.” You tease, caressing his chest through the open buttons of his shirt.

He smirks and nods eagerly. “I can make a noise complaint happen.” He jokes, before he leans in and kisses you again. “You want to have sex with me?” He asks, lifting his brows as he looks at you softly. He hadn’t expected this, this change of heart towards him, but he’s not turning down getting you into bed again. 

You nod eagerly. Ready for him to make you cum again. “Yes. Want you to fuck me until I scream your name. Until we get a noise complaint and everyone knows that dieter Bravo fucks his wife hard.”

He knows you don’t mean that beyond the fact that you accidentally married him. Fully aware that in a few months time, you are going to divorce him. But right now, the fact that he has a wife and that wife wants him to make a claim on her has him standing up. Shoving his cock back into his pants and zipping up, he grabs your hand. “We’re leaving.” He growls. 

Your cunt clenches at his growl and you let him practically drag you out of the VIP section after he slams some cash down on the table to cover the drinks you never had. When you are out of the club, he ignores anyone that talks to him as he practically drags you to the car, pushing you inside. As soon as the door closes, you are straddling his lap and pressing your lips to his.

He’s greedy right now, pushing your dress up to your hips and nearly ripping your top as he pulls your tits. Dragging his lips away from yours so he can kiss down your chest. He’s not hard yet, that will take at least until you get back to the hotel, but he can suck on your tits and see what you like while his body recovers enough to fuck you. 

When he takes your nipple into his mouth, you arch your back and cry out, tangling your fingers in this hair. “Oh fuck baby. That feels good.” You gasp when he bites down on the sensitive flesh.

Dieter loves tits. Big ones, small ones, he just loves them. He might have a bit of a lactation kink, but he’s never been with someone that had milk, but he always imagines it as he’s sucking on them. He flicks his tongue over the hard flesh and suckles eagerly, making it even stiffer before he scrapes his teeth over it to make you shudder. Pushing your tits together and licking between them happily before he buries his face in the cavity and groans happily. 

You moan, loving how fucking eager he is, and he switches rapidly between nipples, sucking each one and making you shift to grind down onto him, your panties soaked. You know this is a bad idea but you can’t stop yourself. He’s sexy, in a garbage driver kind of way - and you find yourself needing him more than you need air. “Oh fuck. Yes. Just like that.” You hiss when he nibbles the flesh.

He grunts, keeping his mouth busy. His hands sliding down and gripping your ass as you roll your hips. Reaching around with one hand to push your panties to the side so your clit can grind down against the seam of his pants. He doesn’t care if you soak them and ruin them, he wants to see you cum again. 

“Fuck.” You cry, grinding down until your clit rubs against the zipper of his pants, catching just right to make you shudder. His mouth continues to nip and suck on your tits and you swear you’ve never been this wet. You must have soaked his pants by now and you haven’t even cum yet. “Fuck Diet. You’re gonna - I’m gonna cum.” You warn him just before you fall over the edge, crying out as you shake above him.

Groaning into your tits, Dieter feels you fall apart. Your body tense and trembling gives him a rush of endorphins and his flaccid cock is starting to respond, hardening slowly as you grind against him. He holds you close and continues to lave affection on your tits until you slump against him, panting breathlessly. “I want to die like this.” Dieter’s comment is muffled from between your tits. “Just like this.”

You chuckle breathlessly, caressing his neck and running your fingers through his hair as you try to catch your breath, still feeling the haze of your orgasm washing over you. “If you die right now, I’ll get all your money.” You tease, knowing he knows that you don’t care about that stuff.

“Worth it.” He huffs against your damp skin. “Just bury me with a mold of your tits in my face.” He jokes, pulling away from you to kiss up your chest and chin before placing a surprisingly gentle kiss on your lips.

You sigh against his mouth, a little shocked by the tender kiss, and you respond, gently kissing him back. Your hands slide down to caress his chest and you nibble on his bottom lip, in no rush to pull away. This is dangerous, being this intimate and comfortable, but you know things will change when you get back to L.A and have to face reality.

The driver pulls to a stop outside the hotel and Dieter groans slightly, pulling your panties back into place and tugging your skirt down as he kisses you one last time. “Time to get out of the car and pretend we weren’t making out back here.” He smirks and looks down at his wet crotch. “Although that’s gonna be hard.”

You fluster, biting your lip as you try to compose yourself. These damn hotels make you walk through the casino to get to your room. You take Dieter's hand once he exits the limo and the cameras flash, making you lean into his side. "They definitely know what we were doing." You whisper, giggling when people stare at his crotch. "Helps confirm we are really married."

“I don’t think that we will have them convinced just yet.” Dieter winks at you before he hauls you close and kisses you again. It’s wet and dirty, the kind of kiss that leads to sex and he’s very happy when he hears you moan into his mouth, clinging to him.

You whimper into his mouth, nails digging into his shirt-clad shoulders as he slides his tongue against yours. Cameras flash and you pull back, knowing that you need to get him to the hotel room now before you fuck him here and in front of fans with cameras and the paps. "Need to - to get to the room." You manage to pant, grabbing his hand to practically drag him to the elevator.

Chuckling, he eagerly follows you into the car, somehow managing to be in there with only one other couple. “We’re gonna have to behave.” He warns you playfully, smacking your ass before he turns to the other couple. “Sorry, it’s our honeymoon and she’s irresistible.” He shares a smirk with the older man, and then grins back at you.

You slap his chest, shaking your head despite the grin on your face. Shit. He’s not too bad when he’s not playing up being an obnoxious Oscar winning movie star. The other couple - older - just chuckle. “I remember when she used to be like that for me.” He winks at his wife. 

“What do you mean used to be? Still am.” The wife smirks and the husband’s eyebrows raise. 

“Have a good night.” The husband says when the elevator arrives on their floor. 

“You too.” You respond and the wife smirks over her shoulder, “oh we will.”

“Damn, he’s gonna get lucky too.” Dieter huffs in amusement. The question of if you would still be that hot for him when you're their age is on the tip of his tongue, but then he remembers that he’ll be alone again by his next birthday. He pushes that out of his mind, grabbing you and flattening you against the wall of the car, his tongue desperate to chase away the thought and have as much of you as he can while you are still here.

You moan as his tongue slides against yours again. It’s like you can’t get enough of him. Never mind having a drug in your system last night, you’re certain that half of that was Dieter. Your entire body is on fire and you struggle to find any reason as to why you hated him. The bell dings and you slide out from the wall and your husband. 

“Does the birthday boy want some birthday sex? You want me to ride you like I promised?” You coo, smirking as you start to walk down the hall to his suite. When he starts to follow you, nodding his head eagerly, you grin and grab the key from your purse. “Better catch me then.” You rush down the hall, knowing it’s gonna be hard for him to run with his cock hard and throbbing already.

“Fuck.” Dieter groans, watching you take off and he starts to shuffle after you. “Wait up!” He whines, actually enjoying himself even though he wishes he was still crushed against you. It’s been a long time since sex was just playful and he is loving how easy it seems to be with you. You aren’t the uptight woman you pretend to be. “Fuck baby, watch that ass.” He huffs.

You giggle, trying to open the door, when he grabs you. You struggle to unlock the door with his hands everywhere and your hand shakes as you press the key against it, finally managing to open the door. “You’re just too slow, old man.” You tease, kicking off your shoes as you step into the suite and spin out of his arms to set your purse down.

“Fuck you I’m too old.” He huffs, slapping your ass harshly and then grabbing the hem of your dress to start dragging it up. “I’ll show you old.” He drags you back against him, grinding his cock against your ass. “Want you to ride me, I’ve been thinking about it all fucking day.” He admits with a grin, biting down on your shoulder.

You grind back against him, head lolling as he kisses up your neck, and you gather your senses enough to tell him to take his pants off. "Get undressed. Now." You order, desperate to sink down onto his cock. "Then sit back against the headboard."

“Yes ma’am.” Dieters draws out, happy to follow that order. Disrobing is careless, tossing clothes on the floor without any care until he is standing completely naked, save for his black socks. “Keep my feet warm.” He teases with a wink before he crawls up on the bed and leans back against the headboard. Wanting to see what you will say about the ridiculous look of just being in socks.

You chuckle at the sight of him in his socks, his cock resting on his lower stomach, and you push your panties down, kneeling on the bed and shuffling forward until you are hovering over his cock. “Like an old man keeping his socks on.” You tease, reaching between you to grip his cock and position him at your entrance. You slowly sink down onto him,  mouth falling open at how he stretches you.

“Does that make you the young gold digger?” He demands, leaning forward to kiss you and drag you to his chest. Wanting to feel your bare breasts against his skin while you get used to him. He knows you are probably sore from yesterday since you had told him it had been awhile since you’ve had sex. “Gonna fuck your old husband to death?”

You chuckle, “yeah. Especially since we have no prenup. You want me to - to fuck you to death?” You joke, moaning when you manage to rock your hips slowly until he’s fully inside of you. “Oh God. How don’t I remember how this feels?” You say to yourself.

“Blacked out from bliss.” Dieter huffs, reaching up and pinching your nipple. “Hearts gonna give out when you squeeze me with that tight pussy of yours.” He groans when you do just that, cock twitching inside you. “Fuck me baby.” He whines, wanting to feel you move.

You grab onto his shoulder for leverage, lifting yourself up until only the head of his cock is notched inside of you. You meet those entrancing dark brown eyes of his and sink down. Starting a little slow but building up the pace until you are rocking your hips on his cock.

“Fuck.” He pants out the word, loving how you feel around him, riding him. He caresses your hip and looks down to watch you take him. “Look at that. That pussy must be so full.”

"It is. Oh fuck. It is. I - never been this full." You admit shifting to lean back. Your hands braced on his knees as you grind forward, allowing him an even better view to see your pussy. "Fuck. This is just - so good."

Dieter is entranced, loving how your lips are stretching around him. It makes him throb and he reaches down and rubs your clit. Loving your gasp and the way your body shudders. “You look good on my cock.” He groans.

“Feels so good.” Your thighs start to shake and you nearly collapse backwards as you try to continue grinding down on his cock. It becomes too much, his fingers on your clit and the head of his cock hitting just right on every grind down, makes you fall apart. Your cry of pleasure echoes off of the walls and you slump forward as your thighs shake violently with your orgasm.

He whimpers at how tight you squeeze him, hissing through his teeth and letting go of your clit so he can start rolling you over. Needing to cum himself. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He groans out. “So perfect.” He starts to jackhammer his hips, carelessly chasing his own high while you thrash underneath him.

You cling to him, wrapping your legs around him to push him deeper as he thrusts hard and deep into you. “Cum for me baby. Cum for me.” You plead, wanting to feel him fill you up. “Please Dieter. Cum for me.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” It’s all Dieter can manage as he careens towards another orgasm. Looking down at you as he starts to cum. Hissing out in pleasure as the vein in his temple throbs and his entire body locks up as he buries his cock deep and starts to fill you up.

“So good. So good.” You choke as his cock throbs inside of you, painting your walls with his cum and you send a silent thanks to your birth control. “Baby. Oh baby.” You sigh, rubbing his back as he works himself through his orgasm.

When he’s done, he collapses against you, snuggling into your chest and tucking his head into your neck. Unwilling to let this moment end right now. Soon enough you will put that wall back up and try to keep him at a distance. “Fuck.” He slurs, feeling slightly drunk on pleasure. “Best birthday ever.”

You stroke his back, kissing his neck. “Happy birthday baby.” You murmur, closing your eyes and trying to ignore the way your heart flutters. He may be your husband on paper but after this weekend, this can’t happen again. You can’t afford for it to happen again. You need to be serious and focus on his image and the press. Work through this until you can quietly divorce.

He can feel when you start to pull away, shuffling under him. Dieter groans and starts to move off of you, pulling out of you gently and flopping onto his back with a sigh. Staring up at the ceiling and wishing that he could be granted a birthday wish.

“I, uh, need to pee and then we should get some sleep. We have an early flight back to L.A.” You tell him, shuffling off of the bed to make sure you don’t get his cum over the mattress. While you pee, you rub your eyes, uncaring of your mascara as you try to figure out what to do. You don’t know what to say to him after you just had sex sober bar a few drinks. You weren’t drugged. When you come back into the bedroom, you slide under the covers where Dieter already is. “Night. Happy birthday.” You lean over to kiss his cheek before you turn away, forcing yourself to close your eyes.

“Thanks.” Dieter stares at your back for nearly an hour, watching as you pretend to sleep and then your body relaxes as you finally do give way to sleep. Sighing, he looks back up at the ceiling again and wonders when the hell he had done the dumb thing and fallen in love with you. Rolling his eyes at himself and huffing into the dark. Admitting to himself that he had been enamored with you, and this experience had just made it crystal clear he would never have what he wanted.

The next morning, you and Dieter barely speak to each other, focusing on getting to the private jet and you’re thankful his entourage seems to have disappeared. “I- I know you don’t exactly enjoy being married to me but need to make this look good in public. I can’t - I can’t live with you Dieter. I’m sorry. I just can’t do it.” You don’t tell him why, not wanting to admit that while you hated the party person he is, you have seen a different side to him, a side that you know is the true Dieter. Not the façade he puts on, what he thinks people want from him. His true self is sweet and kind and deep. He’s smart and you wish he would let others see that side of him, not just the party animal.

Dieter’s brow furrows, a hurt expression in his face and he shakes his head. “I don’t want-“ he takes a breath and decides to be honest. “I don’t want to get divorced. I want this to- try it.” He moves from the seat that he was in to drop down onto his knees in front of your own plush leather seat. “Give me six months. Six months really being Mrs. Bravo. If you aren’t happy I’ll give you the divorce. But I- I want this.” He confesses. “I was happy when we got married. I’ve been happy with you.”

You swallow harshly, unable to believe he wants you to be actually married to him. “It’s been two days, Dieter.” You shake your head, knowing you’ll be a 5 minute wonder with him. 

“Please baby. Give me a chance.” He pleads, those pretty brown eyes going glossy and part of you wonders if this is all an act. Even if it isn’t an act, he will get bored of you and if you say no, he will badger you until you say yes. 

You nod, “fine. Six months.” You agree, knowing that he will be begging for a divorce within a couple of weeks when someone else catches his attention.

He lights up, grinning from ear to ear as he pushes up to kiss you. Cupping your cheeks and moaning happily against your lips. “Six months.” He promises. “It’ll be the best six months of your life.” Smirking, he waggles his brows playfully. “And the most orgasms.” He chuckles.

You snort, knowing that he is being true when he says that. He has made you cum more times than any ex lover during an entire relationship and he’s done it in two days. When the plane lands, the paps are swarming near the gate to the private airfield but thankfully, the car is waiting on the tarmac. The cameras flash and people shout as the driver carefully navigates the crowd as he exits the airfield. “God, I hope we are old news soon. Perhaps JLo and Ben will break up soon.” You chuckle, “or maybe Chris Evans gets married and they can focus on him.” You grab your phone, knowing you still need to do your job and you wince at the amount of emails. “You have a lot of interview requests.”

He smirks and nods towards the cameras, giving them a wave before he tucks you close into his side. The luggage is already being transferred and all the two of you need to do is to get to the car. “As long as you are there, book them all.” He shrugs carelessly and reaches over to pluck your phone out of your hand. 

“Dieter!” You huff, reaching for it, but he pulls it out of your reach. “I need that!” You stubbornly insist. He shakes his head and grins at you. 

“No, my wife needs to kiss me in front of the cameras.” He taunts, holding the phone up as hostage. “Gimme a kiss and you can have it back.”

You want to slap him but instead you kiss him, cupping his cheeks and sliding your tongue into his mouth as you kiss your husband. Hoping he gives you his phone back and satisfies the vultures. You hear shouting and you press yourself up against Dieter whose arms are now wrapped around you.

Dieter grins against your lips when you pull back, already half hard and winks at you before he pulls away, handing you the phone back. “That wasn’t so hard, was it, snookums?”

You poke his chest with your phone, "never call me that again if you want your balls, Bravo." You warn playfully and he grins. 

"Whatever you say Mrs. Bravo." His words make you pause and you look down at the ring on your finger, knowing you are going to have a hard time taking it off. It seems too easy, too comfortable with Dieter. Not even 72 hours ago, you hated the obnoxious, reckless movie star and now you, God you can't even fully admit it to yourself, may even love the sweet, smart man standing in front of you. 

"We, uh, need to go." You tell him when the cases are put in the back of the car.

Opening the car door with an exaggerated flourish, he blows as he waits for you to get in before him. Totally hamming it up for the cameras and generally being in a fantastic mood as he climbs in beside you. “You’re going to love the house.” He babbles. “Have to get rid of a few things, the toys that were used with others and whatnot, but it’s perfect.” He grins as he looks over at you. “Unless you want to see the toy collection first?” He asks with raised brows. “Pick out some that you want to keep? They’ve all been sanitized.”

You raise your eyebrows, "uh, how sanitized? You know...I think we can buy some new ones. Maybe pick them out together. That would be a good couples day for the paps. Bravo and wife seen shopping for sex toys." You tease, nudging his arm. "I need to move some things over, the main things I need for everyday, and I will need to get my passport and birth certificate to change my bank account for the time being. I won't legally change my name, just my status. Less complicated."

“Okay.” He pouts, but he won’t argue with you about that. He knows that this is a trial run and you could still decide to divorce him. “I need to order you a card anyway.” He pulls out his own phone to tap out a text message to his manager to get that done for him. “I’m assuming you’re keeping your place?”

You nod, “it’s an incredible rental. Great location. I have another six months left on the rent so I don’t want to let it go. I need somewhere to live. As for the card, I know we joke but I’m not a gold digger. I’ll use it for things for the house or for you but I won’t take advantage.”

He frowns, both at the idea of you going back and the comment about being a gold digger. “Sublet the place and you use the card for whatever you want.” He insists. “I don’t even look at the statements, they just get paid.”

You huff, knowing you can never win. You nod, knowing you won’t use the card unless you need to. You look out of the window and watch L.A pass by as you make your way to his home…your home for the next six months…or less. When you arrive at his home, you are impressed and automatically in love with it. “Your home is beautiful.” You haven’t been to his home before, always conducting meetings by zoom.

The thing that is surprising about where Dieter lives is that Sherman Oaks is a residential neighborhood. It’s not the party scene and he was careful not to let things get too crazy. But often his partying is done in hotels so the neighbors adore him. “We have a pool.” He announces, leering at you. “So you can lay by the pool naked and work on my publicity.” Waggling his brows, he imagines eating you out while you are on a phone call or typing up an email.

You imagine it for a moment, just enjoying your life in your new home until you remember it isn’t your new home, it’s your temporary home. “We will see, huh?” You offer him a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes and you know this entire experience can go two ways: 1) you fall for Dieter hook line and sinker, or 2) you hate him, truly hate him. With a sigh as the car comes to a stop, you thank the driver who opens the door for you and you adjust your purse on your shoulder as you admire the house.

He fidgets beside you, wondering what you think of the house. “I- you can change whatever you want.” He offers quickly. “We can hire a contractor or decorator or whatever.” He knows that most of the house is already decorated, but maybe it’s not to your taste. He gives a shrug. “I’m not sentimental about anything there.”

You shake your head, “it’s beautiful, Diet. Besides, it’s your home and I wouldn’t change anything since I’m going to be here for the next six months.” You say to yourself as much as you say it to him. With a sigh and no response, he guides you into the home, telling you to security codes as he unlocks everything, and he knows you will want to stay in a guest room. He picks the one closest to his bedroom and you admire how clean and pretty everything is. “This room is bigger than my entire apartment.” You joke, setting your purse down.

“I liked the space in this house.” He comments as he hovers in the doorway. The driver is depositing the bags in the entryway and he sighs. “Well, I guess I’ll let you get settled.” He offers, feeling oddly depressed now that you’re here and you don’t seem very enthusiastic about being here.

****

It’s been a few days that you’ve lived with Dieter. He had arranged for movers to collect your things from your apartment and you managed to sublet it for six months. It’s been strange, living with Dieter but not actually living with him. A lot of your work is done remotely so you’ve been hanging around the house, working on the PR disaster of your own making, plus dealing with the interview requests that come in hourly. 

Since you’re so stressed, you decide to take up Dieter’s idea of sitting out by the pool. He is in his art studio, manically painting something when you last looked in on him, and you strip off, wanting to feel the hot sun on your entire body. You hum in delight when you lay down on the lounger, spreading out to enjoy the heat and just relax.

Dieter is in his own private hell. You are here but he feels like he can’t touch you. There’s a wall between the two of you and despite the fact that he had promised you orgasms, you haven’t seemed open to sex. He’s snorted plenty of coke, groaning as his mind mellows out and feels his body relax into a blissful state. Looking out the large double doors to see that you are spread out bedside the pool, naked. Groaning, he grabs a bottle of wine and a glass abs ventures outside.

You hear him approach, his feet slapping on the concrete and you open one eye to look up at your husband. “Hello hubby.” You tease, “brought me some wine?” He nods and pours you a glass, handing it to you. “Thank you.” You sip it and moan in appreciation. “Are you going to get naked and sit in the sun too or are you gonna stand there all day blocking it?” You joke.

It’s an invitation, and Dieter isn’t turning it down. Reaching for the hem of his shirt to drag over his head before he pushes the baggy, paint stained sweats down. His cock isn’t hard, but it’s starting to get that way, seeing your tits on display. “I guess I’m joining you.”

The lounger is big enough for you both and you shuffle over to allow him to lay down. You sip your wine and hand the glass to him so he can take a sip. “How’s your painting coming along?” You ask, admiring him in the sun. God, he’s too sexy for your own good.

“It’s done.” He groans at the taste of the white that he had chosen. “It’s pretty good, I think, but you can see it if you want.” He hands the glass back over to you and nods towards your phone. “Getting my image back in pristine order?” He asks sarcastically, knowing he’s never had a great public image. He’s too much of a wild card.

You chuckle, "that's an impossible task. Those coke snorting photos are still on the internet." You tease, knowing he was younger then. "I am working on it though. Bit hard to paint you as a happily married man when you've been such a whore." You sip the wine, setting the glass down and shifting closer to him. You reach out to trace the tattoo on his chest, unable to stop yourself from touching him when he's so close.

“It’s not like people change.” He huffs, skin tingling when you touch him. “When you're single, who cares who you do?” He smirks over at you. “Not like you didn’t sleep with people, you just didn’t have everyone taking pictures of every one of them and keeping tabs like it was a lottery list of who I was going to fuck next.”

His words hit you and you realize how intense it has been for him to have his entire life under a microscope, constantly photographed. "I'm sorry you've had to deal with that. I have only dealt with it for a week and it has been intense. I can understand why you sought solace in drugs and sex." You look at him as you caress his chest, down to his tummy.

“I’m sorry.” Dieter murmurs softly, feeling bad that you’ve been put through this. “It’s one for the reasons that no one lasts.” He admits quietly. “They either can’t handle the pressure or all they wanted was the press.” He doesn’t mention that he was a shit partner. He was or maybe is (?) selfish. After all, you’re here when you don’t want to be.

You shake your head, looking at him, "you shouldn't be sorry. You are a successful actor. An Oscar winner. You have achieved greatness and you should be with a partner who appreciates that and understands that your life is under the public eye. That you are beloved by the masses. You need someone who can ground you and remind you of the simple things in life like cooking dinner or going for a walk on the beach. You are a good man Dieter, selfish sometimes, but you care too much and I think that's why you haven't found the right person for you."

He bites his lip to keep him from blurting out that he had, but she just hates him. At least doesn’t like him enough to stay married to him. Instead he plasters a shit eating grin. “I always like being ordered around.” He growls suggestively, meaning in the bedroom.

"Yeah?" You tease, sliding your hand lower until you are caressing his thigh, his half hard cock near your touch but you haven't touched him there since Vegas. "You want me to tell you what to do?" You murmur, shifting closer so you can kiss his neck, licking up to the tattoo he has behind his ear.

“Shiiiiiit.” He hisses softly, cock twitching. You touching him is like a drug if it’s own. Making his cock start to throb and grow as he hardens. “Yes.” He huffs out the whine, turning his head to beg him with his eyes. “Order me around.”

You grip his chin, keeping your eyes on him, and you lean closer. “I want you to let me ride your face. I want you to make me cum on your tongue.” You order, knowing he’s hard but you want him to have to wait. This moment is about you. You want to be in charge.

Whimpering, Dieter nods eagerly and pulls his chin out of your grip so that he can slide down the longer and lay flat. “Take a seat.” He groans, licking his lips in anticipation.

You shift, straddling his face, and you exhale shakily as you look down into those beautiful brown eyes, hungry as they flick between your face and your cunt. You lower your pussy to his face and he immediately grabs your hips, practically suffocating himself with your cunt as his tongue slides through your folds. "Fuck!" You yelp, moaning his name as you cling to the top of the lounger for balance.

He groans happily, tasting you and falling in love with the musky, tangy taste. His fingers dig into your hips and he drags you closer. He wants to suffocate himself in you, he would die a happy man right here with your weight on his tongue. Flicking his it against your clit, he groans into your folds when your thighs tighten around his head.

"Oh God baby. Feels so good." You pant, rocking your hips on his face, and you cry out when he sucks your clit between his lips. "Oh God yes." You cry, rocking your hips and using the lounger as leverage to ride his face.

He chuckles, loving that you are letting go. That woman that he had experienced in Vegas is here again, rocking her cunt on your face. Dieter slaps your ass and loves the way you squeal his name again, lurching forward and he slides his tongue deep into your walls, pressing his nose against your clit.

“Oh fuck.” You buck wildly, grinding down onto his mouth as his tongue probes deep, curling and his nose rubs your clit just right. “Shit baby. You’re gonna make me cum. Always - always know just what to do. You’re gonna make me cum and then - then I want you to fuck me. Want you to - to make me scream your name so loud, everyone in this goddamn neighborhood knows you are fuck- fucking me- oh fuck!” You squeal, thighs shaking as he hits just right, sending you over the edge.

You drench him, making him groan and rock you on his face more. Drinking down your juices as they pour into his mouth with a muffled moan of your name as you slowly grind down onto him. Happily coated in your cum and cock throbbing. 

You shake above him, riding your orgasm and you move quickly despite the lethargy the orgasm grants you to shift back and straddle his thighs, gripping his cock to sink down on his hard cock while your walls still flutter from your orgasm.

“Shit!” Dieter cries out your name, shocked by the sudden way you engulf his cock in your pussy. “Oh fuck.” He looks up at you, pussy drunk and still wearing your juices as you start to move. “Oh fuck me baby.” He groans, grabbing and squeezing your tits while you bounce on him.

You want control and you take it, grabbing his wrists and pushing them back to rest against the lounger, stopping him touching you. "You don't get to touch me unless I tell you too." You order, starting to move your hips, grinding down onto his cock. You lean forward, biting down on his chin. "Your cock is mine, I decide when you cum. You understand?"

Wailing his agreement, Dieter nods frantically. “Yours, all yours baby. Oh fuck, it’s all yours.” He babbles. “Have- haven’t jerked off since we - we got back.” He confesses, blushing hotly at the fact.

The fact he hasn't touched himself makes you wild. You start to fuck him, rolling and rocking your hips frantically like you can't get enough of him. "Oh fuck. That - this cock really is mine. Fuck Dieter. It's so good. No one has ever made me feel like this. Love it. Love it." You ramble, sweat beading on your brow as you ride him like a damn bronco.

His fingers wrap around the lounger slats desperate to obey your orders and not touch you. God, he wants to. Your tits are bouncing and he wants to suck on them. He wants to slap your ass and beg you to go faster, to use him to make yourself cum again. “Love- l-love it.” He agrees breathlessly.

Your nails dig into his wrists as you desperately seek your orgasm. “Oh fuck. I’m gonna cum.” You lean forward a little more so the coarse hair at the base of his cock rubs your clit and it sends you over the edge. Coming to an abrupt stop above him as your thighs shake, a wail escaping your lips as you cum, soaking his cock.

Keening at the hot rush of liquid covering him, he bucks up into you. Knowing that he is on the edge but your words linger in the back of his mind. “Can- can I cum?” He begs. “Please, oh fuck, please let me cum.”

You ride your orgasm, catching your breath as you look down to see the desperate look in his eyes. “Not. Yet.” You say through gritted teeth, starting to rock on him again. “I want to cum once more. Do not cum.” You order, wanting him desperate and whining and pleading.

Whimpering, Dieter clenches his eyes shut, knowing that he can’t look at you. If he watches you cum again, he won’t be able to hold back. “Fuck Bravo, think about stocks. Think about your bullshit dealer.” He hisses quietly, trying to keep from cumming before you let him as he shuffles his legs under you and tries not to cum. 

You giggle at his struggle until you moan when you find the right spot inside of you. “Oh fuck Dieter. Feel so good. So good.” You moan, cupping his cheeks after letting go of his wrists. “Keep your hands where they are. You can’t touch.” You remind him, biting down on his bottom lip to stop his ramblings. You are so close to another orgasm, your thighs burning while you grind down onto him.

“Fuck.” He hisses, pouting at you. “You’re so- so, fuck.” His back bows slightly when you clench down around him and he cries out in frustration. “Fuck baby, I-I-I need to cum!”

"No!" You gasp, on the precipice of your own orgasm and you want to deny him. He gets whatever he wants and you have a chance to control this, make him beg. You cup his cheeks before you slap him, making his cock throb inside of you, so close to busting his nut. "Beg. Fucking beg me." You demand, breathless with how close you are.

“Let me cum, please, please, please let me cum.” Dieter whines, his eyes popping open and pleading with you desperately. “Please baby, please I want- I need- oh fuck.” His body goes taunt and his hand grips the slat of the lounger so hard he breaks it, trying to keep himself from cumming.

His pleas send you over the edge and you whine his name as you cum, clamping down on his cock and soaking him again. "Cum for me. Cum for me." You order with a squeal, "fucking cum."

Shouting your name, Dieter follows your order immediately. Whining and whimpering while he experiences the most intense orgasm he’s ever had, not even cognizant of what is coming out of his mouth. “Fuck, I love you, I love you, I love you.”

You freeze on top of him, your entire body going cold as you look down at him. “What did you say?” You whisper. You lean back to look at him, his cock still twitching inside of you and he is blissed out, eyes rolling into his head. “What did you say?” You ask louder, heart pounding in your chest.

Sighing and relaxing, Dieter reaches down and caresses your sides. “Fuck baby.” He pants softly, eyes still closed with a smile on his face. “God I love you.” He slurs and sighs again. “That - was, Jesus, I must have cum a fucking gallon’s worth.”

You slap his chest, shifting to get off of his cock. "Oh my God. What have you done?" You choke, grabbing your towel to wrap it around yourself as you walk into the house, tears stinging in your eyes as you absorb his words, most likely said in the heat of the moment.

Dieter sits up, dumbfounded and staring after you. “What did I do?” He demands loudly, calling after you, but you are already gone. He flops back onto the lounger and huffs, confused and hurt that you hate him so much that you play hot and cold with him. It’s cruel.

After his lust fueled confession, you stay away from Dieter, and avoid him whenever you can. Going to coffee shops to work or going out for lunch by yourself. It's not good for his PR but you manage to go to less popular areas to avoid the paps and anyone taking photos of "Mrs. Bravo" alone. You feel guilty, essentially abandoning your husband but you imagine he has some new pussy or ass to fuck that has distracted him. You usually go to your room, avoiding him, and feeling guilty and angry at your own silly emotions.

Since you left him alone, he’s drank, a lot. Realizing that you don’t love him and it’s almost enough to sober him. Ironic, he fucked around and did whatever he wanted for so long, but now he’s wanting the one person he can’t have. His head is pounding and he wants something to eat that didn’t come from a bag, so he shuffles downstairs to see if there is anything in the fridge. Hating how he feels even more alone than he did before his birthday.

You are bringing in groceries when you find Dieter rifling through the pantry. "You hungry?" You ask, speaking to him for the first time in God knows how long. You can see the dark circles under his eyes and the stains on his clothes. He hasn't been taking care of himself. "I can cook us something. Sit down." You order, setting the grocery bags on the counter.

“‘M fine.” Dieter mumbles, ready to slink off to another part of the house again. To wallow in the misery that he’s created. He’s good at that. “Just gonna order something.”

"Sit down." You tut, knowing he hasn't eaten properly. He never does unless you arrange it. He gets too in his head, too in his art and you know he's been studying that new script. "Sit down and let me make you something." You reach into the fridge to get him a beer and set it down on the counter before you put the groceries away, figuring out a quick pasta meal to cook.

Grunting, he twists the top off the bottle and gulps down half of it before setting it back on the counter. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand he watches you move through the kitchen as if you own it. “What did I do?” He asks quietly, staring at the counter so he doesn’t have to look at you. He can tell the world to fuck off, but he’s terrified of you hating him.

You set the tomato sauce down and turn back towards him. “You- we agreed to do this for six months and then you go - you told me you loved me. I don’t know if that was in the moment but Dieter - I can’t - you don’t love me. You just - I’m the closest person to you right now so you think you do but you don’t love me.” You turn from him so he doesn’t see the pain in your eyes.

Dieter snorts and huffs out a laugh. “Wow. So you know me that well huh?” He spits, irritated that you keep looking down on him. Treating him like he’s the gum on the bottom of your shoe. “You told me you’d give me an honest chance for six months.” He reminds you. “Nice to know you're counting down the days.” The chair he had sat in scrapes back as he stands. “Wonder why I’m an asshole? I admit how I feel and I get ghosted by my wife. But you don’t really want to be my wife. You’re just biding time.” He tosses the rest of the beer in the trash. “I lost my appetite.” He tells you, turning to walk out of the kitchen, desperate to snort something to make him not give a shit.

You stare as he rushes out of the kitchen, tears stinging in your eyes and you turn to flick off the stove. You clench your jaw, suddenly angry at his dismissal. He always gets the last word. You set the spatula down and follow him, banging your hand on his bedroom door after he slammed it. “You’re such a coward. You told me when you had just cum. What was I supposed to think? That you actually meant it? It’s torture living here. Knowing that you don’t really love me, you’re just - you need attention whereas I am actually in fucking love with your selfish ass and yet I can’t escape because you let us get married while I was high. I just - I hate you. I love you! I love you too, you fucking prick. Is that what you want to hear? Because I do. I can’t stop thinking about you and I thought that if I avoided you I’d save us both the heartache when you move on to the next best thing and instead you decide to mop around and then you - God, I don’t know what to do. You’ve complicated this by making me fall for you.” You slump against the wall opposite the double doors to his bedroom suite.

Snatching the door open, Dieter growls, ready for a fight. “Then fucking leave!” He hiss, grabbing you by the arms and dragging you upright. His eyes are dark and passionate. “Leave if you’re so goddamn miserable, because I’m fucking miserable. I just want to-“ he doesn’t say another word, just crushes his lips to yours desperately. Breaking down and confessing his worst fear. “Don’t leave me.” He begs between sloppy kisses, hands pulling you closer. “Don’t. Fucking. Leave.”

You react immediately to his words, reaching for him to tangle your fingers in his hair and you press your lips to his again. “I don’t want to leave.” You admit against his mouth, sighing his name as you slide your tongue between his lips, finally feeling like you’re home.

He pulls you back and starts to steer you towards his bedroom. He needs to touch you, to taste you. Pushing you through the doors as he continues to keep kissing you. Pawing at your dress in a desperate attempt to get it off of you while he keeps his mouth locked to yours.

“Wait. Wait baby.” You push on his chest, groaning when his lips attach to your neck. “Baby. I - I am on my period.” You warn him, not wanting him to be surprised or grossed out when he fucks you. He might decide not to, if it’s not his thing.

Scoffing, he bites down on your pulse and pulls away. “So? It’s natural.” He tells you casually. “Doesn’t mean I’m not going to lick your pussy until you cum for me.”

You shiver at his words, realizing once again how different he is compared to your exes. That’s why you love him. “Oh God. You are insatiable.” You joke, letting him guide you back towards his massive bed. You haven’t been in here before.

He snickers and nips at your collar bone before he pushes you back onto the plush bed. Throwing off his shirt, he keeps the sweats on, knowing he will want to rush if he strips off too fast. “Yep.” He watches as you pull off your dress and he reaches for your panties, far more practical for your time of the month than sexy. “Period panties turn me on.” He jokes, winking at you. “Played a vampire once.”

You let him drag your panties down and he pushes your legs open, exposing your folds, and you fluster when Dieter finds the string of your tampon. “I- you can leave it in. You don’t - I know it’s not - God I have never done this before.” You fluster, covering your face, “can you leave it in?”

He thinks it’s adorable that you are so worked up over a tampon being inside you. “You’re so fucking cute.” He coos, wiggling his hips and settling between your spread thighs. “Don’t worry baby, it just tastes a little coppery.” He chuckles and peels your lips apart with his thumb. “Not even messy, besides-“ you pull your hands down from your face and look at him. “I eat my steaks rare.” He jokes before he flattens his tongue against your clit.

Your groan is a combination of embarrassment at his words and pleasure of his tongue flicking over your clit. With a whine, you buck your hips into his face and reach down to tangle your fingers in his hair. “Fuck.” You sigh in bliss, having missed this…missed him. “Always so good. You’re so good at that.” You moan when he sucks on your clit.

He wants to make this good for you. Needing you to feel loved and taken care of. Plus he doesn’t mind the way you taste at all. He hums against your flesh when you tug on his hair and grind shamelessly down on his face.

“God, that feels so good, baby. So good. I love it. I- oh shit.” Your head rolls into the pillow, so sensitive from your period, and it doesn’t take long to work you up to your orgasm. His name escapes his lips as you cum when he sucks on your clit.

He groans along with you while you ride out your bliss, watching you carefully and pulling away to kiss your inner thighs while your chest heaves. “Can I fuck you, baby?” He asks softly between kisses. He’s had enough lovers to know that every woman is different during their period. He’s a selfish asshole, but he’s not that big of a dick to expect or demand sex.

“I don’t - I’m sorry. I don’t really like sex during my period. It hurts too much. Can I- I want to jerk you off. Want to watch you cum.” You offer, reaching down to squeeze his cock through his thin sweats.

Dieter kisses your stomach and shuffles up to lay down beside you. “You don’t have to, sweetheart. I don’t expect it.” He promises. “I’m not going to be upset if you just want to lay here and rest.”

“I want to make you cum. Please.” You lean forward to kiss his neck, reaching for his sweats and when he doesn’t push your hand away, you reach in to wrap your fingers around his cock, pulling him free of his sweats. “Such a gorgeous cock and it’s all mine.” You murmur, kissing his jaw as you start to pump him in your hand.

Groaning, Dieter turns his head and chases your lips. “All yours.” He pants into your mouth, groaning again when you squeeze the head. “Fuck, all yours.” He’s needy, lifting his hips into your grip but he doesn’t care. Your touch feels so much better than his own and he wants to fall apart to it.

You love how eager he is for you, and you twist your wrist as you pump him, swiping your thumb over the head of his cock, and you slide your tongue into his mouth when he whines your name. “I love you, baby.” You murmur against his lips, pumping him a little faster before you squeeze the head again, swiping your thumb over it to gather more pre-cum.

Shuddering under your confession, he groans. “Fuck, gonna cum baby.” He warns you, cock throbbing in your hand and one twist of your wrist, he’s cumming. Painting his chest with hot ropes of his sticky seed while you milk him of every drop while he whines. “Love you.”

You work him through it, loving the wrecked look on his face as he enjoys his  orgasm. You kiss all over his face when he relaxes, “so beautiful.” You whisper before bringing your hand up to your mouth to lick his cum from your digits.

“I do love you.” Dieter promises softly. “It’s - I know you think that it’s just some kind of amusement or passing fancy. But I do.” He reaches over and cups your cheek. “I don’t regret marrying you in Vegas for a second.”

You smile, shifting to snuggle into his side, uncaring of his drying cum. “Me neither. I thought I did at first but I look back on it and it was just…comfortable. Like it was meant to be. I know we have a lot to discuss for our future and I know it’s gonna have bumps in the road but I don’t want to pretend to be Mrs. Bravo anymore, I want to be Mrs. Bravo. I want to be yours, your wife. I love you Dieter and I’m so sorry I’ve been such a bitch. It’s just - it’s been a lot to work through and I have needed time to figure out how I feel. I know what I feel and I know what I want…a life with you.”

Dieter beams happily, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. “Good.” He chuckles against your lips. “Because I want you to be Mrs. Bravo. For real. Us, together.” He waggles his brows. “Will you move into the bedroom with me?” He asks. “Let me snuggle you after sex at least once?”

You smile, nodding at him. “Yes. I’d like that baby. I’d like that a lot.” You sigh, breathing him in. 

“And I want babies.” He adds, making you choke. 

“One step at a time, my love. We have a lot to figure out but we will do it all together.” You promise and he smiles, nudging his nose against yours. 

“Together. I like the sound of that, Mrs. Bravo.” 

You giggle, giddy with happiness that he loves you. “Me too, Mr. Bravo.”

[ofsappho]

Heartless CHAPTER 8.5

🔞 Simon “Ghost” Riley x reader 🔞

Fake marriage/marriage of convenience

-

You and Ghost get into a fight when he refuses to go dancing with you

-

Hello. I know it’s been a while 😭😭😭 I’m so so so sorry. Thank you all again for your patience. This was supposed to be one big chapter, but I thought I’d post what I have now just to make everyone happier while I work on the rest. A lot of smut in the next chapter. Hope y’all enjoy. YES THIS IS THE SET UP FOR GETTING DICKED DOWN BY COWBOY HAT GHOST. PLEASE BEAR WITH ME.

If one were to go off your husband’s tone, they’d think you just walked out of the bathroom in a stained brown paper bag. “You’re not goin’ out,” Ghost says after re-locating his jaw to its natural position under his balaclava.

“Hm. Thank you for your input, Ghost, but I wasn’t aware that I’d asked.”

You spin around with a huff and march back into the bathroom to examine your appearance, flinging the door open with such force that it slams into the wall.

Before you can shut it behind you, maybe lock it just to piss him off, your husband braces a veiny forearm on the doorframe and leans in. “You’re not. Not like that.”

“Why? What’s wrong with the way I look?” You ask as you go in with more blue glitter on your eyelids.

“You know what I mean.” His voice rumbles gruff and low.

And you can see his eyes looking at your ass through your cutoff denim shorts in the mirror. “Am I ugly? You don’t like it?”

Said shorts make your legs look fifteen miles long and are cut almost indecently short, accentuating your full hips and flattering your tummy. To fit the night's theme, you have on a very nice push-up bra with a white crop top tied in a bow under your boobs. And black cowboy boots, of course.

You have a matching hat somewhere…

Ghost rolls his eyes. “Fuckin’…” He sighs.

“Gorgeous, doll. Don’t pout. C’mere.” Then he reaches out and snags you by the waistband of your shorts, pulling you into his tall frame. You go easily, unable to resist him even if you wanted to.

Ghost tugs his balaclava down to chastely kiss your cheek. “Prettiest bird I’ve ever seen.” Please, like you can’t feel him pawing your butt with a gloved hand.

You rock yourself back, barely grinding against him. “Then I’m going out. Like this,” You tell him. You bat his hands aside to face him, your nose inches away from his mask. “You can come with me if that would make you feel better.”

Did Ghost really expect you would be content to twiddle your thumbs at the barracks and not explore London? You were pleasantly surprised to find a thriving line dance scene in this part of the world, and doing silly little dances while sort of drunk to cheesy country music sounds like your idea of a good time.

So this lovely Saturday night, you decided, ‘Why the fuck not?’ You can handle your sore back tomorrow.  And now you’re trying to convince your stubborn mountain of a husband to tag along.

Ghost releases you so quickly that you stumble and have to catch yourself. “I don’t dance,” He says in a flat, deeply unenthusiastic voice.

“Please? It’ll be fun!” This might be a little cliche, but you’ve never gone on a date with him before. You’ve spent your time hanging around him and his team, wherever they may be, and yeah, you signed up for that…

But you want a date. You want overpriced drinks and holding his hand as you walk down the street. Something more. That doesn’t seem as unreasonable as he’s making it out to be.

“I don’t dance.” He turns away without looking twice and strides out into the bedroom. Ghost’s coldness hurts more than his rejection.

You don’t understand why you care so much about something so small. If he were anyone else, you’d take the L, move on, and go where you’re appreciated. “I wouldn’t even make you-“ You try, still staring at his back and wishing he’d meet your gaze.

But you don’t want someone else. You want him, just for the night. Have you asked him for anything else before? You haven’t.

“No.” Oh, is Ghost suddenly too good to be seen with you in public? Marrying you under false pretenses is fine, but God fucking forbid you go to a bar together?

“But-“

He snorts. “Fuck no.” He strips off his gloves before tossing them on the bedside table, clearly uninterested in discussing this further. “Christ, woman. Don’t look at me like that. Can’t you take no for an answer?”

You look at yourself again in the mirror. Blue eyeshadow, long, fluttery fake eyelashes. Pink lipgloss dabbed on your mouth. And glitter on your eyelids and cheekbones, like a goddamn fairy.

You’re too beautiful to be upset and too beautiful to sit around doing nothing with a man who couldn’t give less of a fuck.

Where is your cowboy hat?

You find it buried in a suitcase. “Ugh. Why are you being such an inconsiderate asshole? Go fuck yourself,” You snap as you set the hat neatly atop your hair. Then you grab your phone and send a couple of messages. Soap might be free, and you’d even settle for Sergeant Garrick or Alejandro.

You have your IDs stashed in your bra, along with some pounds. You do a once-over in the mirror and brush some imaginary lint off your cleavage.

“Where are you-“

You cut him off. “Out. If you won’t dance with me, I’ll find someone who will.” Someone who won’t make you want to cry, whose dismissal won’t feel so awful. You’re not interested in testing out the durability of your mascara.

“Love-“ You can hear his heavy footsteps heading your way.

Unfortunately for him, you’re already in the living room, making a beeline straight for your front door.

Your phone dings.

“Alejandro is free. I’ll see you later, baby. Don’t wait up,” You call over your shoulder, too upset to look back.

Your mouth presses into a flat, pinched line. You’ll get so drunk you won’t remember this fight and exhaust yourself dancing, and tomorrow, you can go back to pretending like you don’t care about Simon.

-

Music pounds in your ears. A man croons over guitars and banjos and a trilling piano in a thick Southern accent as Colonel Vargas turns you around the dance floor of this American-themed pub. The place is so over-the-top that you find it charming - everyone’s dressed like you, in cowboy hats and boots, and you hear more than a few lousy imitation American accents. Very quaint.

Blue and magenta lights drape all of the dancers in a riotous rainbow of color. There’s a mix of clumsy young folks your age, out for a cheeky pint with the lads, so to speak, and older regulars who came here for the same reason you did; to dance.

Alejandro has a very respectful hand on the small of your back as he effortlessly guides you side to side, forward and back.

You relax and let yourself sway with his pace, your feet moving perfectly in time, even once you stop consciously thinking about it. “You’re good at this!” You say loud enough so he can hear you over the music.

Alejandro flashes a white-toothed grin at you from under the brim of his black hat, the band trimmed in shining sterling silver.

“I’d hope so. Back home, in Las Almas, we go dancing a lot. Rudy and I.” He falls silent to guide you past a few people conducting themselves far less elegantly than the two of you.

You feel as though you’ve just stumbled on some great secret and found worthy by the keepers.

“Rudy?”

Alejandro’s face is a sight to behold. You can see a red tinge on his tanned cheeks under the lights. “My, uh, how do you say it? Los Vaqueros. He is my… vaquero.” Cowboy. His dark eyes glimmer, and you understand. Alejandro and his Rudy are continents apart, and you can taste their chemistry from where you stand. You feel it thrumming under Alejandro’s skin, like the mere mention of Rudy is enough to bring him to life in a way you’ve never seen before.

“Back, back, there you go. Out and-“ He lets go of your other hand and pulls back, leaving you plenty of space.

Your hair fans out around you as you twirl towards him on the balls of your feet. “Spin. Very smooth, Colonel,” You compliment. One of his arms wraps around your waist, and the other folds gracefully over your chest.

You untangle your limbs from Alejandro as if you’ve been dance partners for years. “Sounds like you haven’t seen your cowboy in a while.”

“I haven’t. Our jobs keep us busy,” He says. His voice is quiet, a timid undercurrent of sound that you can barely hear over the speakers.

“He serves?”

Girls covered in dark orange tan and shimmering body lotion spill onto the dance floor in a mess of giggles. Alejandro deftly pulls you out of their chaotic path before you fall over them on your ass.

“We served together,” He says as he dips you with a solid arm supporting your back.

Rudy must make Alejandro so happy. “How romantic.” Ghost would never smile like the Colonel does. But what would Simon look like if he were so happy? Would his voice soften? Would he dance with you, even alone in your apartment?

“Sometimes.” Your dance partner catches your hat right before it slips off your head.

You squeeze his shoulder in gratitude. “He sounds like a wonderful man. I hope I get to meet him one day.” 

“Stick around long enough, and you might.”

“Well, then I’ll plan on it.”

The song ends, and something less suited to two-stepping plays next.

The two of you have drinks on a table next to the dance floor. You’re not worried about anyone tampering with them; Alejandro has already scared off any fellow who so much as looked your way. “He’d like you,” He murmurs to himself.

You have your Corona with lime, Alejandro has been working on a glass of expensive tequila all night, sipping it as delicately as if he were drinking tea.

He’s looking at you funny. The way you’re chugging this beer is probably not helping. You finish it and wince at the taste.

“You want to talk about what Lt. Riley said to make you so sad, hermanita?”

You didn’t even tell Ghost where you were going. That’s how fucking mad you were. You turned your phone off once you met with Alejandro, not wanting to see any calls or messages that would’ve broken your resolve. But there’s a worse possibility - that there aren’t any calls or messages at all.

“Not really.” You let the empty bottle thump as you drop it on the sticky, barely clean table.

His disinterest isn’t supposed to be a bad thing. Ghost could be cruel, or unkind, or abusive. You’re very lucky he isn’t any of that.

Kind, handsome, and affectionate in his own way is a hell of an improvement. For a moment, you feel ashamed that you want more. So what if he hates dancing enough to curse at you over it? So what if he doesn’t know who you are, the things you like and don’t like, your favorite movies, or why you avoid your mother’s calls?

You busy yourself with looking at everyone else so you don’t have to meet Alejandro’s knowing gaze. “Sí. Whatever you say,” He sighs into his tequila. Hopefully, that’s the end of the questioning.

Of course, it isn’t. “That one is… Rudy doesn’t like El Espectro.” Alejandro’s brow furrows as he thinks over his following words. “But I wouldn’t want anyone else on my side.” There’s more than a little respect in his voice and the kind of confidence in your husband that makes you want to be a bit more confident, too.

“Sometimes I think he wants me on his side. Then I remember that he’s a stranger, really, and I’m fucking projecting. Projecting that he’ll ever want me more than, you know, normal.” Maybe the beer is making you chattier than usual. You can feel shit you’d never say out loud just flow from your mouth.

Alejandro snorts. “He definitely wants you. We all know that. It’s very clear,” He quips, snapping you straight out of your vulnerability.

“Ugh, shut up,” You tell him as you blush a bright red under your makeup and knock your elbow into one of his buff arms.

He leers at you across the table, waggling his dark eyebrows and grinning once you start giggling. “Why do you think Soap has those new earplugs, eh?”

“Gross!” In revenge, you make a play for his drink. You don’t love anything harder than a glass of wine, but you’ll make an exception to spite Alejandro.

He laughs, holding his glass above his head where you can’t reach it. “I’m just playing!” Alejandro waits until you’re sulking in your seat before setting it down. “I won’t tell you you’re wrong, necessarily. But- but I think you’re underestimating him. Lots of people do. Ghost always gets the jump on ‘em. He might get the jump on you.” You gaze longingly at the remnants of his tequila. 

“Whatever. I don’t want to talk about him anymore. It’ll just ruin my night. I need another drink.” That will solve your problems, at least temporarily. You’re not supposed to drink on your meds, but technically you’ve already started. In for a penny, in for a pound. And those rules are just suggestions, not hard restrictions.

The very friendly bartender with a thick British accent you can barely understand and nice eyeliner hands you one lemon drop shot, then another after you down the first. It burns like lightning in your esophagus. But the burn eventually turns into a pleasant tingle, warming you from head to toe.

You’re working on your third shot when Alejandro catches up to you. “Careful,” He calls over your shoulder.

You wave away his concern, another drink already in hand. This one is a rum and Coke, way too heavy on the rum. Did the pretty bartender do that on purpose, one girl to another? You like her even more.

The next song comes on - something loud and awful, its catchy beat punctuated by dubstep rooster crows.

“Come on, I fucking love this song,” You say, just barely slurring your syllables. “I’m not gonna shake my ass alone.”

-

GHOST POV

Your phone is off.

Ghost is embarrassed to admit he’s checked every hour since you’ve been gone. At least three hours, now bordering on four. And he knows your phone is off because when he calls, it goes straight to your fuckin’ voicemail. Which you haven’t set up yet, so he’s stuck listening to some stupid robot telling him to “leave a message after the tone.”

It’s driving him almost as mad as you are. When you get back - not if, when, the second thing he’s going to make you do is change that goddamn voicemail message.

The first thing is something along the lines of “make you sorry.” Ghost hasn’t ironed out the details yet. No matter. There’ll be plenty of time for that later.

It’s dark out. It’s been dark out this whole time. You left with the sunset at your back.

While he knows Col. Vargas is with you, London is large. You’ve never been here before. Col. Vargas ain’t half bad with a map, but he’s not from around these parts either.

Maybe you never made it to… wherever you were going. How the fuck would Ghost know? How the fuck would anyone know?

He’s even angrier with himself that he was too much of a prick to listen when you mentioned it.

In the privacy of your quarters, Ghost pulls his mask off to run his hands through his shorn hair. The hair you cut.

It’s so quiet when he’s alone. This is the first time since- since you married him that he’s been alone.

You hum. A lot. Or you listen to music on your dinky wired earbuds, and he catches the sounds of your foot tapping along.

You snore, though not loudly. He’d never tell you, and he’s certainly slept under worse conditions. But it’s… nicer to kit up for the day, to brush his teeth and roll on his socks, knowing someone there will be waiting when he gets back.

Fuck.

Did you take the Tube? Buy a ticket? Oyster cards are cheaper, but you wouldn’t know that. Ghost should’ve told you. He should’ve been at your side.

He’s watched you struggle with the unfamiliar currency. You had all sorts of odd American notions about coins and exchange rates. Ghost had to correct you twice. After that, he secretly swapped out some of your dollar bills for pounds so that you’d be alright no matter what.

He left you with more than enough for a cab there and back. But what if the cabby overcharged you after hearing your accent? What if-

It’s a major metropolitan area. Criminals abound. Kidnappers driving ‘round cabs, stalkers, nonces. Statistically, at least one serial killer or two.

God-fucking-damn it.

You could be dead in a ditch, all because he didn’t want to go dancing. In hindsight, it doesn’t seem worth the quarrel.

This place is too quiet without you in it. He can’t stand to sit here in silence a second longer, staring at the lack of notifications on his phone and seeing shadows in the corners of the room. Closing his eyes won’t chase them away - he’s tried.

Simon only sees you covered in blood, a hole in your pretty head. Or duct tape over your mouth and your clothes ripped off, or you lost and alone in some alley, never to come home. Another name on the list of people he’s-

That’s enough of that.

He slips his gloves on, then pulls his daily wear mask over his head. Ghost has been choosing the balaclava more often. It’s something softer and a little civilian for you.

Not like you’re even here to appreciate it, he grumbles internally.

He runs the last moments he saw you over in his head a few times. You said Vargas was free, implying there may have been other options, but the Colonel was the first to respond. Ghost will eat his mask if Sgt. MacTavish wasn’t one of those other options.

The front door slams into the wall with more force than necessary. It makes a satisfyingly loud bang.

As Ghost picks his way through corridors he knows like the back of his hand, he thinks he should have told you again how beautiful you were. You would have left with a smile and kiss instead of a cold scowl.

He’s only being a good husband that watches out for you. That’s it. Ghost takes pride in being good at damn near everything, other than driving, so it’s natural for him to get worked up. Worked up is the wrong phrase. That implies that he’s agitated. He’s not agitated.

Is that a trace of your perfume he smells? Couldn’t be. Doesn’t make sense. Perfume doesn’t linger that long in the air. Ghost can smell gunpowder from a kilometer away and old blood three city blocks over.

And you. The scent is too faint for his comfort. If he can’t touch you soon, can’t gorge his eyes on your face and leave teeth marks in your skin, something’s gonna break.

Ghost leaves a boot print on the door to the communal bunks as he kicks it open. “Sgt,” He calls out curtly.

Surely, man-to-man, Soap can be reasoned with?

“Ah, so you’ve decided to show your face. Well, mask.”

Apparently not.

Irritation prickles down Ghost’s spine. “So that’s the way it’s gonna be.”

Soap finally condescends to get out of his bunk and stare Ghost down like he’s shit on the bottom of the sergeant’s shoe. “You’re a right eejit, Lt,” The other man snaps, crossing his arms over his chest.

Ghost doesn’t have time for this. “Where’d she go?”

“Fuck should I tell you for?”

His patience and self-control and restraint are hanging by a fucking thread, and Johnny’s disdain is like the edge of sharp scissors against it. Is Ghost the only person on this goddamn planet who cares about your well-being? Including yourself?

You’d be displeased if Ghost got your best friend’s blood under his nails. Very displeased. Simon holds onto that reminder for dear life.

“You out your fuckin’ mind? She could be-, “ At this rate, Ghost will never snap at you again. One go at this circus is more than enough for him.

“Ain’t my job tae find your wife,” Soap growls as he sticks a finger in Ghost’s face.

The sergeant is wasting precious fucking time treating Ghost like he’s the bad guy, and you could be gone by now. Ghost has bigger fucking priorities.

Simon misses America - which is something he never thought he’d think. England is full of his ghosts, moments away from breaking out of their graves. In your homeland, you were safe.

“You’re supposed to be her best mate. You don’t know where she is?”

Soap gnashes his teeth, his eyes glinting with fury. “Should fuckin’ kill you, you know that? Awa’ an’ bile yer heid.”

“I’ll come back and beat you black and blue after I find her.” Ghost’s brain teems with swarming, sticky thoughts, blacker than an oil slick. He needs- he’s not sure why he can’t breathe. His heart rate picks up, and he doesn’t know why and it needs to not do that.

He needs you.

“Worry about yourself, Ghost. I won’t need tae do a goddamn thing. She’ll have you on your knees like a dog.” Soap pauses. “You made her fucking cry.” His words hang in the air like a noose around Ghost’s neck.

“Wasn’t tryin’ to,” Simon retorts. Then he shuts his mouth and thanks God that the mask hides his face. He sounds like a whiny, immature brat and certainly feels like one. Not a man, not the kind of man he should be for you.

“I told you not tae hurt her.”

Ghost remembers. With vivid clarity. “…” On the tip of his tongue hangs the thought that Soap hadn’t needed to. Ghost took one good look at you in that dress, the simpering sweetness in your eyes replaced by razor-sharp steel in an instant, and he knew he could never hurt you.

But what Soap meant is that he’d trusted Ghost with someone precious, and today, that trust was shattered. “Aye, so ya can put a shot in some poor sucker’s head from 2,500 meters, but ya can’t spend time with the woman you married? And be fuckin’ polite to her?” The sergeant’s tone is so caustic he could use it to clean a Scorpion’s engine.

Simon is familiar with guilt. Guilt has been his companion his whole life. The kind of guilt that can never be cleaned because the people he wronged won’t come back.

This is a new kind of guilt. One with the hope of absolution. It makes him deeply uncomfortable, almost nauseous.

“…I can’t make it up to her if I’m not with her.”

That tiny concession still isn’t enough. “Useless. Absolutely fuckin’ useless,” Soap mutters.

“Johnny, you ‘bout done takin’ the piss out of me?”

“Right now, that’s Sgt. MacTavish to you, Lt.”

Dammit. “Sgt. MacTavish. Sir.” There’s blue glitter on the sink back home from where you were dusting it across your face. Pretty shade of blue. But Ghost had turned away when you stormed out, so he can’t remember how it looked on you.  “Please.” Did it run when you cried? He hopes not. You shouldn’t waste tears on a bastard like him.

Soap doesn’t speak for some time.

Simon feels some odd, heart-wrenching, panicky desperation build and build, his hands grow clammy under the gloves.

His phone buzzes, and for a second, Ghost hopes it’s you. But it’s not - Soap’s sent him an address. Some shitty little pub not more than a half-hour drive.

“There. Don’t come back until you’ve proper apologized. An’ if you make her cry again? I’ll dummy-cord ya head to ya hand since you’ve lost your goddamn mind.”

Under Ghost’s mask, there’s the tiniest smile.

Soap claps him on the shoulder. “Now get out of here.”

-

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[gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot]

Paulatim sed Firmiter (Slowly but surely) - Wednesday morning

Warning: Mention of violence and SA themes, but only implied and not descriptive.

Disclaimer: This part was important for me to write, and deeply personal. As such, I had trouble putting into words what I wanted to convey. I hope no one feels triggered by it

Tags (before they asked): @glitterypirateduck

Previous / Masterlist / Next

‘‘I’m going to show you some basic moves to fend someone off. I won’t hit Soap…’’

‘‘Please no, I’m too pretty’’

‘‘… too much’’

Wednesday morning

Training room

 ‘‘She’s nervous’’

‘‘Why do you say that?’’ Gaz rolled his eyes, smiling. Both of them were standing in the training room, observing Riot while she chatted with a couple of the women that would attend the class that came early. ‘‘It seems to me that she’s acting normally’’

‘‘She got up early to bake magdalenas. She only does that when she’s more anxious than normal’’ Soap smiled broadly, with a couple of the baked goods in hand and another in his mouth, chewing happily. ‘‘Not that I’m complaining’’

‘‘Magda… what?’’ Gaz grabbed the one that Soap was offering him and took a bite, humming appreciatively. ‘‘Tastes like a muffin or a cupcake’’

‘‘If you call them that she’ll hit you with a pan’’ The Scot laughed, trying to eat the rest before Gaz could ask him for more. ‘‘She made like two dozens, they’re in our common room. I dinnae ken how she managed with that wee oven though’’

‘‘I cook in there all the time, it’s not that difficult’’ Gaz shrugged, fighting Soap for the last piece of magdalena before it disappeared. ‘‘I might ask Riot how to make these, they’re delicious’’

‘‘Yes, please, double the food for me!’’ Soap grinned, waving at the group of women that were slowly approaching the doors, unsure. ‘‘Good morning! Dinnae mind us, we’re just the bouncers!’’

‘‘Good morning’’ Gaz smiled, waving them in, feeling glad that the women smiled back at them, even if their smiles were a bit nervous.

Riot walked to them, her eyes following the women inside, and then looked at Gaz and Soap. Her face was unreadable under her black mask, but it was true her voice sounded nervous.

‘‘This is stupid and a bad idea, I don’t know why Price accepted’’ She looked back, at the increasing group of women that were now chatting among themselves. ‘‘God, they’re so many’’

‘‘There are more people in the normal close combat lessons’’ Gaz laughed, putting his hand on her shoulder. ‘‘It’ll be fine’’

‘‘You can use us as practice dummies if you like’’ Johnny smiled, seeing her roll her eyes.

‘‘I have a better idea’’ Gaz grinned, earning a smirk from Soap and a curious look from Riot. ‘‘I’ll explain later, it’s still brewing. We might have fun today’’

Riot sighed deeply, and then turned around to go step on the mat. Of the twenty-five people that had signed the petition, only twelve were present and most of them were women except for a couple of male soldiers at the back, standing next to two young looking female soldiers. Williams and Ibekwe were right at the front, both of them with big smiles, and Riot just dreaded the whole thing.

She was just a soldier, not someone that should be looked up to.

‘‘Good morning everyone. I’ve been asked to teach private lessons in self defense by a group of you’’ At first her voice was still a bit unsure, but then she eased into her Sergeant persona. ‘‘Private doesn’t mean closed, so if you find out that someone wants to attend, please feel free to invite them, they will be welcomed. Should the group become to big to handle at once, I’ll have to set different times’’

Soap and Gaz waved when she motioned at them and the people present looked back.

‘‘Sergeant Garrick and Sergeant MacTavish volunteered to assist in the lessons’’ She continued, recognizing the uneasy looks on some of the women. ‘‘They can be trusted, and will make sure nobody disturbs us, per Captain Price’s orders. I also recommend all of you that, should you need it, refer to them for help. At any time, at any hour. Same goes for me’’

Her anxiety was off the roof by that moment. What did they want? Why did they want her to teach anything? What did she have to offer anyone?

There were some more soldiers looking from behind Soap and Gaz, most of them from her training group and from theirs. She wanted the ground to open and swallow her before having to continue, but when she looked around, she found Nitro and Marble’s smiling faces.

‘‘I haven’t been told the real reason why you lot want to learn how to defend yourselves further from what we teach in the close combat lessons, and I won’t ask. I feel shame that you don’t trust your chain of command enough to come to us if you have had anything happen to you, or to those close to you, and that’s on us. It’s our job to make you feel safe, and we have failed. For that, I apologize’’

Gaz nodded approvingly, looking around and then out of the room to the hallways, keeping watch while Soap recorded the class in his mobile phone. Price had asked that from them, but the Captain sure wasn’t expecting what Gaz and Soap had prepared for later.

In the middle of the mat, Riot sighed deeply before continuing.

‘‘I also haven’t been told why you would want someone that came from a Black Ops unit, which is worse than a mercenary group, to train you’’ There was a chorus of nervous laughter around her, and some of the soldiers looked ashamed. ‘‘But I blame Williams for this, as I am sure the circumstances in which I ended at my previous unit are well known by now’’

‘‘I didn’t tell everyone!’’ Andrea protested, while Dayo laughed next to her, specially when Riot looked at her and shrugged. ‘‘Ok, I told most of them, but not everyone!’’

‘‘I don’t care if they know, if that makes them trust me and come to me if they have problems’’ Riot rubbed the back of her neck below her loose bun, trying to think about how to continue. ‘‘I’m not exactly proud of it, but I’d do it again without thinking’’

‘‘So, cut from the same cloth, aren’t you?’’ Gaz muttered to Soap, smiling. ‘‘Didn’t you knock a RMP out and locked him in his own car?’’

‘‘Who do you think kept watch?’’ Soap whispered back, with a big grin on his face, remembering. ‘‘Good times’’

Back on the mat, Riot was still trying to shake off her anxiety.

‘‘Before we start practicing… things, I want to clarify one thing. Have you heard of the Fight or Flight response?’’ A chorus of agreement rose among the present, and she nodded before continuing. ‘‘Well, I think it’s called acute stress response nowadays, but I prefer to call it the three F’s. Fight, flight or freeze. And contrary to what most people think, one single person can have the three reactions in different situations. I have fought before, I have frozen before, and I have fled’’

‘‘The only direction you know how to flee is forward!’’ Soap yelled, earning a harsh elbow poke from Gaz, but he had done the trick. Where some of the women had started to get tense, now most of them had relaxed again, and there were some giggles here and there. Riot rolled her eyes.

‘‘That’s what you get for taking care of stray Scots…’’ She smiled at the affronted hey from Soap, and continued. ‘‘What I want to say with this is that none of those reactions is the good one. None of them is the bad one. None of them can be controlled. We teach you here to deal with the battlefield, and that’s very different from having to defend yourselves at home’’

For the faces that she could see around her and their expressions, more than one of them had had something unpleasant happen. To what extent, she didn’t know, but she knew she had to get her point across.

Riot raised her hands and unhooked the mask from her ears, taking it off fully and brushing a few strands of her blonde hair back. There it was. All of their eyes glued to her scar, to that nasty, ugly gash. She could even see the horror and pity in some of them, and she felt tempted to flee. But instead, she held her head high and turned slowly, so everyone could see.

Flight, freeze or fight.

‘‘I fought’’ She said simply, seeing from the corner of her eye how Williams and Ibekwe were staring at her face with wide eyes, and she clenched her fists before realizing. ‘‘And I survived. And that’s the lesson you really want me to teach you. That the only goal, in any situation you are thrown into, is your survival’’

‘‘Sergeant Vega…’’ One of the youngest soldiers, standing next to a protective looking guy, raised her hand slightly. ‘‘What if you feel… guilty?’’

‘‘Oh, you will. And you’ll have to survive that, too’’ Riot smiled tiredly, feeling so damn sad that someone so young had that kind of weight on her. ‘‘Survival is the only goal. For everyone. It doesn’t matter what your reaction to a situation is, as long as you survive. Your life is the only thing important, nothing else. Now, I’m going to teach you the first lesson of today. Soap?’’

Johnny walked to her with his usual contagious smile after giving his phone to Gaz so he could keep recording, and stopped right in front of her.

‘‘Aye, bonnie?’’

‘‘Say, what is the only technique we’re not teaching in close combat?’’

‘‘Uh… I don’t know? Maybe you should ask Ghost?’’

‘‘We’ll get back to that’’ She looked around to explain. ‘‘I’m going to show you some basic moves to fend someone off. I won’t hit Soap…’’

‘‘Please no, I’m too pretty’’

‘‘… too much’’ She sighed, but the laughter around her made her feel better. Thank God for Johnny. ‘‘In the case of having to defend yourselves, focus on the most vulnerable places of your attacker. Eyes, nose, throat, and groin’’

‘‘Steamin’ Jesus’’ Soap mockingly let out a high pitch squeal and covered his crotch with his hands. ‘‘Be careful, lassie, you’ll want niblings in the future!’’

‘‘For fuck’s sake, Johnny’’ Riot hissed, trying hard not to laugh with the others. ‘‘As I said, when in doubt, aim for the crotch. Johnny, stop squealing! I’m not going to hit you for real!’’

‘‘And now you’ll talk about the bottle cap technique!’’ He jokingly accused her, laughing when Riot rolled her eyes again.

‘‘What’s the bottle cap technique?’’ Gaz shouted from his position at the door, and both Soap and Riot grinned and spoke at the same time.

‘‘You grab it, you twist it, and you pull!’’

For the following minutes, both of them demonstrated different ways to fend off someone. Johnny kept flopping on the mat dramatically, making Riot more and more exasperated, but the soldiers present, both inside and outside the room, were in a more relaxed mood, laughing and commenting, sometimes even cheering.

‘‘Drop him, Vega!’’ Ibekwe hollered, laughing, and Soap started to protest, laughing as well.

‘‘What did I ever do to you!?’’

Gaz laughed, still recording the whole class for Price to review later. One of the privates standing in the hallway tapped on his shoulder, the atmosphere around them clearly different for some reason, and he looked back.

‘‘Yeah?’’

‘‘The ones you asked about…? They’re here’’ The private, a young redhead with his face covered in freckles, muttered while looking down the corridor, where three Army Air Corps Sergeants were making their way to them. Gaz smiled wide.

‘‘Just in time for the show’’ He laughed and then called his fellow Sergeants inside. ‘‘Soap, Riot, the main course has arrived’’

‘‘The what?’’ Riot raised an eyebrow, helping Soap up to his feet again. The Scot was grinning as widely as Gaz.

‘‘Just three little helpers for a… practical lesson’’

[kookieswan]

Red Light - Call Out My Name

Nightmare!Hoseok x Psychologist!Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Genre: Horror AU, Monster AU, Psychological horror, Angsty tbh, some fluff.

Warnings: Delving into the mind of a nightmare, talk of killing and gore. Reminder that this story isn’t all roses and rainbows. Hoseok is morally gray. It should be noted that this story will contain themes of horror/psychological horror and also explore obsessive behaviors and codependency. Many characters are morally gray. Please be warned!

Summary: Wanting to finish off your meeting with Hoseok on a good note, you’re not ready for the turn it takes.

Notes: This takes place directly after ‘Playing with Madness’. I hope this is okay! I realize there’s a lot of sitting and talking, but it’s really the heart of what builds their relationship up! Thank you for all your support as well lovelies, I really appreciate it! ♥️

This is the 8th part of the Red Light series. Find the Masterlist here ♥️

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

“Did Yoongi tell you about his plan to break some of the nightmares out?” The Nightmare still looks more than displeased, but sits down in the chair situated in front of the barrier between you. Crossing his arms, you note that his wings seem to relax slowly as he continues to stare at you. The dents in his cell aren’t the only reminder of his anger though.

“Are these really the questions you want to be asking right now? Something tells me you have other things on your mind.” His tone is flat, face void of any emotion as he says it. It surprises you slightly since he’s always teasing to a degree… Williams had clearly caused a rift in that, but that’s one think you keep out of your notes as you scribble some down.

You need the answers as badly as you don’t want to ask, or a else you’ll likely get an obscene amount of shit for not getting them. Sighing quietly, you try your best to give him a sincere smile. You don’t want to waste his time with these dumb questions, no, but….

“Please answer Hoseok, it’ll make both of lives easier if you do.” The Nightmare blinks once, twice, and then huffs a humorless chuckle before leaning forward, elbows on his knees. His wings are completely down, almost drooping, but they twitch every now and then in what must be annoyance.

“… No, I had no clue Yoongi was going to go rouge and massacre a good portion of the guards down here. Am I surprised he did it? Also no, he likes to cause mischief ‘for funsies’.” Funsies…? Honestly, it sounds like Yoongi from what you’ve observed so far. The Nightmare is a perfect combinations of unhinged pleasantries and false reassurance. The answer is good enough, so good you decide to change the subject with a final line of writing since Hoseok still looks grumpy.

“Okay… Changing the topic slightly. How did fighting the Nightmare make you feel, the one that assaulted us?” The man breathes in deeply before tipping himself back, effectively tearing his eyes away from you and looking toward the ceiling for what seems like the first time. You bite the inside of your cheek as you wait for a response, not quite sure of what to make of his soured mood, or even how to approach it.

“Fighting it? Well, that was fun. I haven’t got to test my hand in a while… Gutting it after it touched you like that? Nearly euphoric.” His voice drops down to a near whisper, and it unnerves you as a near snarl follows. Usually when you’re around, his attention is apt, eyes on you, almost warm, but now…

“Were you hurt at all? Physically?” Leaning forward, you try your best to show that you genuinely wish to know. Is it a question that you need to ask? No, but you want to make sure that he’s okay since he’s so bothered. You don’t know much about how nightmares heal physically or about their general endurance, so.

“A few scratches here and there, nothing that didn’t heal quickly, Nightmares don��t need much down time to recuperate. Why, were you worried about me dear Doctor?” Perhaps you’re too readable at this point, but then again, it’s human nature to worry for others. Giving him a small smile, just barely a curve of your lips, you nod.

“Yes, I was worried about you.” Hoseok’s eyes snap forward, wide and unblinking. Tapping your pen against your notes, you shrug your shoulders lightly in response.

“I didn’t see the extent of the damage you took since they swept you away so quickly. I’m glad you’re not terribly injured.” He was gone before you could even ask questions, the guards having wrangled him away like the monster they think he is. With all the blood, it was hard to tell who’s was who’s.

“What about mentally? Do you feel like it has affected you negatively in any way? Lingering worries or thoughts?” Eyes narrowing a bit, you just barely notice the way his jaw clenched, how his nostrils flare at your words. Another blink and it’s gone, controlled by the pretty mask he chooses to wear so often.

“There’s nothing to worry about. There was a problem and I solved it, so I won’t linger on what might have played out differently or my actions, Doctor.” A well thought out answer, calculated as he says it slowly back to you. Still, you can’t help but to let a bit more, wishing for nothing more than a deeper look into this Nightmare’s mind.

“It doesn’t bother you that you killed the Nightmare? From what I could tell, there was quite a bit of carnage left behind.” Based on what you’ve managed to collect through research, violence doesn’t typically negatively affect Nightmares. If anything, it spurs them on even more, makes them mindless and bloodthirsty. Even knowing all that, Hoseok had taken the time to check on you, not a trace of madness left behind.

“What bothered me is that it tried to hurt you, that it put its hands on you. Filthy thing didn’t know it’s place, so I put it there. Is it a pity I had to take out one of my own kind? Perhaps, but it needed to be done. I didn’t see any guards trying to help you.” It’s surprisingly honest, and he doesn’t sound mad even, just level. You didn’t see a single guard either, not a single person to lead you to safety, so his point isn’t null.

“Point taken… I suppose I never did say it, so thank you for escorting me to safety Hoseok. I appreciate it.” It’s the truth, even if you were shocked for a solid few hours after it happened. He fought for you, killed someone for you, and as terrifying as that is… It’s also strangely endearing in a way you know it shouldn’t be.

It remains quiet as you jot down a few more notes, finding it surprisingly easy to leave some of the information out. In your expert opinion (because you can say that now thank you very much) it’s in the Nighmares best interests if you leave out some of the deeper things from the doctors down here.

“May I ask you a question?” Dotting off your last set even, you glance back toward Hoseok with raised brows. Humming a bit, you sit back and recross your legs, gesturing for him to go for it. Why not, you’re already allowing for things to slide you likely shouldn’t.

“It seems to be a trend of yours, so sure.” He cracks a smile at that, one that slowly turns into a grin as he stands from his seat, more of the black markings on his chest peeking out from between the zipper of his suit. The Nightmare steps closer, allowing his shadow to fall over your body.

“Were you scared? Worried that you’d be ripped to shreds?” Playing again, but it can’t hurt to indulge him like this every once in a while. Especially if it’ll get him to keep talking to you without issue.

“Yes… and no. Sure, the Nightmare was likely going to kill me but…” Likely isn’t even the right word. You know for a fact that the Nightmare was looking forward to ripping your throat out. Hoseok leans against the wall, forehead nearly touching as he stares down at you intently.

“But…?” It hangs in the air as you try to formulate what you need to say. It needs to be careful, can’t give away too much. That wouldn’t be a good idea with him.

“You were there, and you promised to keep me safe.” You realize how silly it sounds as soon as it leaves your mouth, but it’s true. The only thing that kept you even remotely calm was the fact that Hoseok was there to deescalate the situation… Even if it was in a way you don’t even remotely agree with.

“And I’ve decided I will continue to keep you safe, Doctor. You need me, and I’ll be there. Just call out my name, these walls are thin enough for me to hear.” Call out…? His voice is deep, bordering on what you must be mistaking for sultry, and it’s enough to make you pause. The thought of calling out to him, for him…

“My, my, you look flustered Doctor. Was it something I said?” Pursing your lips, you remain quiet as you start to wrap up your notes, finalizing everything you’ll be submitting for the rest of the doctor to read though. You’re starting to understand why some of the previous psychologists left… or disappeared. You however, are intrigued.

“How much would you squirm if I told you that you look beautiful today? Red really is your color…” Usually wearing neutral colors, you didn’t quite expect for a pop of color to get such a different reaction. You guessed it might draw some attention, but not positive and not from Hoseok of all people. Gathering your materials hastily, you pointedly don’t look him in the eye as he continues to grin salaciously at you, all pearly teeth as he runs his questionably long tongue over them.

“Okay, that’s all for today Hoseok! I have a meeting in about ten minutes I can’t miss. Thank you for your time, and as always, feel free to ask for me before our next appointment if need be.” He watches you stand and retreat, body nearly flushed to the only thing that separates you. Glancing back one more time before exiting, the last think you see before the door slams shut are his extended wings.

“Until then, dearest Doctor…”

[frostfall-matches]

[ matchmaking... ]

@justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms​ : [ match report ready ]

your match is…

✦ V / Kim Jihyun

As an artist himself, V is drawn towards creative types. It’s even better when he’s interacting with someone who works in an area that he typically doesn’t dabble in. He would absolutely be supportive of your desire to be a published author. If you were willing to let him read some of your pieces, finished or in progress, he would think of it as an honor. He’d be more than happy to provide feedback for you as well, if you want it! V may not be a writer himself, but he’s in-tune enough with art and creative processes and how different audiences may interpret something; he’d be a pretty good critic, and never harsh with his words. And if you’d rather not have a proper critique, but just hear about his favorite parts of whatever he’s read? That is no problem for him!

Once he got a good sense of your preferred genres and what books you already have in your collection, he would be the type to pick up books that seem to be your style. Not all the time - chances are you may already have a pretty significant collection - but here and there, if he sees one that catches his eye, or if you have a particularly worn-out copy of a book and you’ve expressed potentially picking up a replacement. You would also be his go-to for book recommendations. Sure, he could use the internet, but why not ask someone whose opinion he values? At first, he’d read just about anything you’d recommend to him, until he got a better sense of his preferences.

V loves how vibrant you are when you finally open up. He likes the contrast of the quiet, composed front you put on around strangers and the expressive, sarcastic side that blooms when you’re comfortable. It’s nice! The banter is always fun, and he likes your witty comments about bothersome situations. The first few times he got glimpses of your personality behind your shell, he was pleasantly surprised and he wanted to see much more of it. Similarly, he appreciates how good you are at conversation; it’s just so easy to talk to you. Conversation never feels forced with you, it flows well, and before he knows it he’s been casually chatting with you practically the whole evening as you two relaxed at home.

Your high sense of self-worth can be a very positive influence on V. He struggles with truly accepting himself and loving himself; he often feels like he doesn’t deserve much at all. It’ll still take some time, but having someone around him who he’s close to that values themselves - and also values him - will slowly make him reconsider how he views himself. And while some people may find self-deprecating jokes off-putting, it’s a good way to break the ice around him (as long as it doesn’t go too far - he’s likely to worry about you if you make them too frequently). It’s okay to not be perfect, and it’s important to learn how to laugh at yourself sometimes, and still find yourself worthy to exist and be loved. There’s a lot that V needs to unpack, and he’d deeply appreciate your presence and support.

On that note, there are so many things that V adores about you. At least according to your INFJ type, you’re idealistic, yet practical; passionate with enough of a plan to see your goals through; and while you can be hesitant to open up and be vulnerable around people, you still value having connections with people. These traits are just so warm and inspiring to V; honestly, they’re traits that he wants to emulate himself. Even if he feels like he can’t embody these traits to the extent he wants, he still enjoys being in the company of someone like that. He’d find a lot of comfort in you, and hopefully you’d find comfort in him, too.

He may not share your interest in video games and anime, but that’s okay - he likes seeing you enjoy yourself, and he’s more than willing to hear you out if you want to rant about or show him something. Go ahead and show him a particular scene from the anime you’re currently watching, maybe he’ll even get a little invested. If you’re playing games in one of your shared spaces, he may settle down beside you and watch for a while - even though he was originally just intending to read, scroll on his phone, or sketch. He can’t help it! You’re so focused (which is cute to him in and of itself), and he wants to see what’s gripping your attention like that.

your match is…

✦ Oikawa Tooru

The extravert that adopts the introvert - it always happens at some point or another. As busy and focused as Oikawa is, it takes quite a while before you guys are close enough to even consider yourselves friends. He’s also got enough pals and acquaintances that he’s not likely to befriend someone who is incredibly reclusive and reluctant to talk to him - and that is where your ability to carry on conversations despite your reserved nature comes into play. He can be pretty damn chatty, but he prefers speaking with someone who is also willing to be active in conversation. It won’t be long before he decides he likes you enough to continue pestering you.

Despite how frivolous he may seem, he’s quite intelligent and perceptive, which would likely land him points in your book. With your academic record and drive for literature, someone who is dull probably wouldn’t be very interesting to you. And, frankly, he pegs you for being a bit of a firecracker beneath that collected exterior of yours long before you start actually opening up to him. Oikawa is very reactive to your more expressive and sarcastic side! He’ll banter back and forth with you, and play up being upset and pouty if you make too many jabs at him - but you’re too nice, and he knows you’d never actually be mean to him.

The two of you deeply relate to each other when it comes to meeting the very high expectations you each set for yourselves. Even though your passions and goals may be different - him focusing on volleyball, and you focusing on writing and academics - the standards you hold yourselves to are similar. On top of that, it’s hard for both of you to be vulnerable enough to admit your perceived “failings” to someone and seek reassurance from them. Once you two figure this out about each other, it should be easier picking up when the other is frustrated about something, and the best way to provide comfort. If all else fails, at least you know that you have someone supporting you and rooting for you.

Related to this, Oikawa strongly prefers to be with someone who has a passion that they are determined to pursue. Because this makes up such a core part of his personality and motivations, he’d want to be with someone who is able to understand and relate to him. Besides, having a goal and the drive to work towards it is attractive. It doesn’t matter to him that your passion isn’t sports-related - he’ll support you nonetheless! He may not be a huge reader, but he wants to know about the literature you’re invested in, and the types of works you want to share with the world. He’d also be interested in learning about the logistics of it. All he really knows is volleyball - it’d be interesting to know what hurdles and hoops you have to jump through in order to get where you want to be.

When he has free time, he’d have fun playing games with you! He may occasionally sit and watch you play something that’s single-player, but he gets a bit restless and antsy. He’ll either find something for himself to do near you, or if you notice his pouting, you may be nice enough to switch to something that you can play together. This doesn’t happen often, as he’s busy with training and practice, but it’s a fun, interactive way to unwind when he needs to give his body a break. Oikawa picks up new games pretty quickly, too, so he’s likely to give you a run for your money if it’s something competitive.

Oikawa finds your varied taste in music amusing, yet endearing. Honestly, he seems the type to like anything with a good enough beat to move to, so he’s happy to listen to a lot of what you’re into. It’s a pretty good way of getting exposed to new music, too - he absolutely does not mind if you want to play music out loud while you two are spending time together. In fact, every few songs he might nudge you and ask you for the title and artist, so he can note it down and add it to one of his playlists.

[eponymoussquared]

No comments this time, just doing it out of habit. I hope you enjoy!

Sheidy Business:Part 4

Mara was sitting in a wooden chair far too small for her, tapping her cane impatiently. She stared at the patterned walls of Bill’s waiting room, depicting grand palaces in an otherwise empty desert. She smirked at the gaudy decor. I see he’s still as showy as ever. Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t immediately notice the sound of the door opening.

 It took her a moment to see the man who had taken the armchair in front of her(Bill always made sure he was more comfortable than his guests). When she noticed his presence, she chuckled a little at the sight. He was, as always, overdressed, wearing a flowing purple robe embroidered with gold along the edges. On his head he wore a silver crown covered in blue and red gems. Mara doubted they were real, but Bill had always dressed to impress, even if the clothes seemed to wear him more than the clothes.  He smiled widely, and she vaguely recalled that she’d once found the expression dazzling. “My darling Mara, what brings you here?” he said in his overly-friendly ‘salesman’ voice.

Mara had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. “I need your help, Bill. What else?” 

His face turned to a glare as she spoke.  “Bilam.” He said, all charm gone from his words. “My name is Bilam, and you will address me as such.”

 This time Mara did roll her eyes. “You’ll always be Bill to me, whether you like it or not.” 

Bill sighed deeply. “If you weren’t my best customer, I’d turn you into a pile of worms. What do you need?” 

Mara stopped tapping her cane and looked directly at Bill, her hazel eyes staring into his pale white ones. “One of my kids is gone. Vanished. Footprints end at the gate. No ransom note, number, nothing. Haven’t received any calls or letters asking for money. He’s just gone.” 

Bill made a beard-stroking motion despite not having a beard. He could have grown one, if he wanted to, but he kept his snow-white hair almost completely trimmed, leaving nothing but fuzz on his face. “So you suspect magic?” 

Mara shook her head. “It's a possibility, but it could just be a kidnapper who’s not interested in returning him. Either way, I don’t have any guaranteed way of tracking him, so I came to you.”

 Bill laughed, somehow managing to sound both affectionate and mocking. “Seems those stone soldiers of yours aren’t as good as they seem, hmm?” 

Mara’s glare could have set forests ablaze. “We are not here to debate whether golems are inferior to sorcery for the umpteenth time, nudnik. We are here because one of my kids is missing, and I’d appreciate it if you showed the tiniest modicum of respect for the situation.” 

Bill chuckled. “Serves you right for calling me Bill. Now, I can help, but it’ll cost you.” 

Mara grinned bitterly. “I didn’t expect you to help me out of the goodness of your heart, Bill. I know you. I’ve got the payment, don’t worry." She reached into her coat pocket, and pulled out a small glass jar full of pointy curved nails. “One jar of Sheid talon clippings.” 

Bill raised an eyebrow. “Thats it? I can get those off the street.” Mara grimaced. “I’m not in the mood to haggle, Bill. We both know it’d take you days to get enough from stray Sheidim to fill this jar. Can you just do the spell?” Bill shook his head in disappointment. “Your no fun today, Mara. But alright. I suppose this will be adequate payment for a location spell.” Mara clasped her hands together and looked up. “Thank you, Hashem, for small favors.”

Bill ignored her, producing a crystal ball from beneath his robes. He began muttering under his breath as it began to glow, and an image of Ezra, broken manacles around his ankles, but otherwise unharmed, appeared. He seemed to be standing outside of a stone room with intricate symbols she didn’ recognize scrawled on the walls, but she couldn’t make out any more than that. Bill, on the other hand, went wide-eyed with shock, and waved his hand. The vision immediately dissipated. Mara glared at him. “What was that! You barely saw where he was!” Bill was white-faced with fear when he looked at her. “Mara, I have seen those cells before. I have seen those symbols. Ezra is within the land of Nod. Just looking in there has put me in danger, for the ruler of that place will surely notice.” 

Mara had had enough. “Aren’t you an all-powerful sorcerer? Why don’t you just help me rescue him?” Bilam shook his head fervently. “I-I can’t. I’m sorry, I really am, but I’ve dealt with him once before, and I can’t risk it again. I’ve only survived this long by staying hidden-I’ve had to fake my own death multiple times. I can’t bring attention to myself again. Not again.” As he spoke, he was pacing hurriedly, waving his hands in erratic gestures that were either magical or meaningless. Suitcases materialized in his hands, and his clothes changed from grand robes to a drab suit. “I must...go away for awhile. I’ll be back after this all blows over.” 

Mara had never seen Bill so afraid before, so she was unable to work up the proper anger at his cowardice before he had already left the room. Already the grand palaces had begun to fade from the walls, leaving peeling white paint instead. Mara sighed. This had not been encouraging-anything that could frighten a sorcerer as resourceful as Bilam was a threat indeed. Fortunately, she had another person who might be able to assist her. “Sheket,” Mara told the remarkably quiet Sheid on her shoulder, “As much as I hate to say it…we’re going to be paying Yosef a visit next. Maybe this time he’ll actually be willing to talk to me.”

[ziracona]

I used to be way more of a doormat and appeasing because I was raised to be polite, but after enough people taking advantage of that, by college I was like “I’m really done wasting my time enabling horrible behavior. Look, bud, you now get the same level of thoughtfulness/tact/politeness as you give—ima mirror whatever approach you come at me with, because I don’t have the energy to put 110% into a relationship while you give 40 anymore” and it’s so funny that like without fail the kind of people you’ll show your favorite movie to super excited who will then go “Eh I didn’t really like it it was kinda boring” or be even worse instead of like, saying nothing, or finding a polite thing to say, are sooo shocked when you just honestly tell them what you think of stuff they share back.

Like it’s almost uproariously funny. One dude was like “I’m gonna make fun of you & your taste & fave game for reccing it to me since you liked it so much yourself, bc while I haven’t even touched this video game personally, I watched a game sins video on it one time, so I have a PHD in knowing it has no redeeming qualities,” and then was just offended out of his head at how hurtful I was for when he wanted me to watch a show he liked and I was like “Thanks for thinking of me, but I know the MC from the show this is a spinoff of, and find her impossibly obnoxious, and I just don’t think the story would be worth it to me,” like just couldn’t believe I’d be so tactless. Nother dude did the exact same thing, & then was so offended I didn’t pretend to not hate a ship in a mutual fandom whenever he kept bringing it up over and over despite already knowing I both hated, and didn’t want to talk about it. Knew a chick who would tell me she didn’t like things I brought up all the time, or thought my comments were stupid, but then was so offended any time I like, mentioned how much I was relieved a character from a game we both played that she liked & I hated, finally died & left the story.

Like without fail, that kind of person is always /so/ shocked, and /so/ offended if someone treats them even a less mean version fo the way they treat everyone they talk to. Occasionally after I start doing this bc the subtle kindness approach didn’t work, a person will go “Wow I’ve been kind of an ass huh?” & improve but 9 times out of 10 it’s just Comedy Central with them failing to see any kind of double standard but lost in the way I’m not Yes Maning them into next year like the idealized npc version of me in their head. But anyway this is on my mind not even because of that all too common (esp in Avid befriending-many-people-&-jumping-fro-1-to-the-next fandom spaces) shitass personality Load Out, but because whenever I do have nicer people I interact w in such circles, which happens not like, infrequently, but way less frequent than the ones who suck, sadly, it’s unimaginably funny to me in the opposite direction—like I’ll just be there talking to them nicely about something I can’t stand — not lying or anything just like, yeah I don’t mind listening to you talk about this movie I hate, bc I like you, and I have no need to tell you how I feel about the movie—you didn’t ask. You just wanna infodump. & I got no problem w that—I like hearing you talk, & you don’t feel a need to cut down & preach at everything I ever say, so we actually got something good here back and forth. But inside my head against the backdrop of how many mediocre to shitty people I’ve known recently I just am like “Baby girl, I have things in my loadout for you & only you that you can’t even imagine.”

[reidgraygubler]

just my type (spencer reid/reader)

Title: just my type 

Request: kinda, not really

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: SEXUAL CONTENT (daddy kink, loss of virginity (reader), praise, fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, after sex cockwarming, groping, heavy petting, tipsy sex, innocence kink, hair pulling, crying during sex (but the VERY end)), dom!Spencer, sub!Reader, Professor!Reid, age gap, aftercare, swearing, drinking, making out in public places, incredibly brief mention of necrophilia, mentions of absent father, ooc!spencer, professor/student, brief mention of drinks being drugged (not actually happening)

Word Count: 8,194 

Summary: Reader sleeps with a man she met at the bar. The next day she finds out that man was her new professor, Spencer Reid...

A/N: this was writing for pom’s discord server fic swap! My partner doesn’t have tumblr, but their wattpad is babyleaf1! I took a few of her favorite tropes and prompts she likes and came up with this! It’s loosely based off the song campus by vampire weekend. Spencer and reader’s ages are undefined, but there is a gap between the two.  thank you all so much for the support! i really do appreciate it. check out my masterlist!

{***}{***}{***}

Going to the bar wasn’t exactly my scene. Sure, it was nice to kick back and have a drink after a long day. I’d rather be at home with a glass of wine and watching a movie. But when a friend I haven’t seen in a long time asks to go to the bar, I’m gonna go to the bar with her. 

My eyes scanned the crowded room, searching for my friend who was no doubt already drinking. The room was filled with drunk people. I didn’t expect so many people to be drinking on a Tuesday night… who am I to judge though? 

When I finally saw my friend, I rushed to her. She was sitting at the bar with a drink already in hand. I wondered how many drinks she had before I arrived.

The moment I appeared by her side, she let out an excited squeal before throwing her arms around my body.

“It’s so nice seeing you!” she squealed into my ears. I laughed as I carefully pushed her off my body, and tried to regain some personal space. “It’s been so long!” 

“Yeah, yeah. Been busy. School and stuff starts this week.” I nervously laughed as I sat down on the stool beside her. She leaned over the bar as she called for the bartender. 

“That’s right! School!” she exclaimed as she looked back at me. I looked away from the bartender and at my friend. “That’ll be fun!” she added, trying to sound excited, but epically failing. 

“I sure hope it’ll be fun…. But it’s hard to say. You know, college,” I chuckled and looked down at the counter. The bartender placed the two drinks on the counter, pushing them towards us. My eyes widened once I saw the brightness of the drink. The brightness of the liquid was unnatural. So of course I was going to drink it. What’s the worst that could happen?

A couple hours had passed and the conversations between us seemed to flow fluidly. I was thanking God that that was the case because I don’t think I could do awkward drinks. I like to think I was concentrating on her and her words pretty well.

And then he happened.

A man walked up to the bar and looked right at the bartender. He held up one finger as he sat down behind my friend. He had an exhausted look in his eyes, which were hidden behind shaggy brown hair. Suddenly my concentration was out the window and I couldn’t take my eyes off the man. My friend definitely noticed too, but thankfully she didn’t comment on it. 

Then he looked over at me, and I was met with honeyed hazel eyes. They were more intoxicating than my drink. A small smile grew on his lips when he realized he captured the attention from someone. 

I just assumed he would have gotten his drink and returned to wherever he was sitting. But I was so wrong. Maybe the bar counter was where he was sitting and he just got here...

“So… What’s your type?” my friend asked, looking over at me with a small smile on her lips. I struggled to look away from the attractive man sitting just behind her. It was a relief when his gaze dropped from mine when my friend asked the question. But a small smirk grew on his lips as he, and my friend, waited for my answer.

“I… I, uh,” I finally looked away from him and down at my drink. The two black stir straws leaned against the glass, and I realized that I should probably stop drinking soon. My face grew really hot, and I couldn’t tell if it was from the alcohol I had consumed, or the thought of telling my friend my type in men I’m interested in, or even worse… That the type of guy I’m interested in standing right behind her…

“C’mon, can’t be that bad… Unless you’re like… A necrophiliac,” she laughed as she leaned closer to my body. I moved away from her before looking back at the man behind her. He was looking back at me, an amused smile on his lips. “Well,” she asked, slipping closer to me. I locked eyes on the man before licking my lips lightly.

“Older…” I made sure to be loud enough that I knew he would hear. I watched as he choked on his drink before looking over at me. 

“Ooo! Girl,” my friend exclaimed as she moved closer to me, “How scandalous,” she whispered as she wrapped an arm around me, “How old are we talking?” she looked up at me. Her eyes were glossy, and I knew there was no winning this one. 

“Is this really a conversation we… we should be having?” I asked, my voice shaky as I spoke. She looked at me with wide eyes.

“We talkin’ old enough to be ya daddy… if ya know what I mean,” she mused as she began falling into my body. The man behind her looked over at me, his smile telling me he was clearly listening in to our conversation. And he obviously enjoyed what was happening in front of him. 

“Ye-No!” I cut myself off with a shout, “No! Not at all!” I continued, backing away from her body. I couldn’t tell if I was being serious or not, and something was telling me my friend and the man didn’t believe me either. “Wh-why are you suddenly…” I let my words trail off as my train of thought suddenly vanished.

“Because… You’re young, you’re single… And you’re… you know…” this time it was her words trailing off. I looked at her with wide eyes, my face getting hot again. “A virgin,” she said in a normal tone, even though I think she thought she was whispering. The man behind her choked on his drink again before slowly turning to face me and my friend.

“Will you shut up?” I whispered as I tore my eyes off the man and looked down at my friend. She sat back in her seat as she looked at me with a smile.  

“OH!” she shouted as she looked down at her drink. She slammed the rest of it in one go before standing up, “I have to pee! Stay here! If I’m not back in 10 minutes, assume I went off with that hot guy.” She slipped off her chair before pointing somewhere in the bar. I looked over my shoulder and at a group of guys who were closer to our age than the guy behind her.

“O-okay,” my words stumbled as I carefully pushed her body off mine. I held back my chuckle as she stumbled away from me and towards the bathroom. 

I turned back to the counter, my head dropping so I was looking at my drink. My fingers fiddled with the straws as I waited for my friend to return. The bright blue liquid sitting with ice wasn’t as good as it looked. Which was very unfortunate because I’ve had maybe two of them… Working on my third...

“Your friend… She’s rather excitable,” someone spoke from beside me. The seat my friend was once sitting in was now occupied by the man who sat beside her. I perked up and looked away from my drink. He was hunched over the bar, holding a small glass with an amber liquid. 

I didn’t realize I was staring at him till he cleared his throat and looked back at me. I jumped, looking down at the bar. I didn’t exactly know how to respond to him, words not coming from my mouth properly as I struggled to speak. So, I shrugged and stared at him.

“Y-yeah, yeah she’s like that… Especially when she’s drunk… She doesn’t know how to hold her booze,” I laughed as I lifted my drink to my lips. I searched for the two mixer straws with my mouth, closing my eyes before taking a sip. “Y-you didn’t hear anything she said,” I asked, my words slurring slightly from nervousness, "Did you?" I added as I leaned on the counter. The man looked at me with a raised eyebrow. 

“Uh, erm,” he looked back down at his drink, not directly answering my question. I sighed deeply as I planted my face into my hand, leaning against the bar. 

“She was being really loud,” I laughed as slowly slipped off my stool and into his body, “Oh, sorry.” I looked up at him as I held onto his arm, “I think I should stop drinking,” I laughed as I recollected myself and moved away from the stranger’s body. 

“It’s okay.” The man looked at me, helping me get back on my seat, “I’m going to get you water.” He looked between me and the bartender. 

“Listen, listen, yeah, whatever, like so what, I’m still a virgin… I just have my bar set way too high for men,” I started as I turned to face him, “I should lower that bar and my standards,” I mumbled as I leaned against the counter. The man looked down at me with a raised eyebrow. Why did I think my friend would be embarrassing to me when I can just do it myself?

“Definitely getting you water,” he laughed. After a moment of silence, the bartender placed two glasses of water on the counter in front of me and the stranger. The man looked over at me before pushing the glass closer to me. “Drink it, you’ll feel better,”  

“Is it safe, right? Like…” I let my words trail off, hoping he’d clue into my worries. He looked at me with raised brows, like what I had said was absurd that I would even suggest something like that.

“It’s safe… just water and ice,” he returned, his tone telling me he was mildly offended that I'd think he drugged water. But to be fair, he's a random stranger in the bar, talking to a girl who's had a few drinks.

“Thanks,” I muttered before lifting the glass to my lips. The icy coolness of the water hit my lips and tongue and I already felt a million times better. I couldn’t help but let out a pleased hum. 

“Spencer... by the way,” the man finally introduced himself to me. I swallowed roughly as I looked up at him. My eyebrows knit together as I stared at him, my words tumbling from my mouth as I introduced myself.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, looking around the semi-filled room of drunken adults. 

“After work drinks,” he spoke softly. He didn’t sound too enthused by after work drinks. Part of me wondered why that was… Maybe all his friends ditched him too. 

“Sounds boring,” I laughed as I looked back at him, “My friend wanted to get drinks… But she wanted to catch up and to… Well, just drink,” I sighed as I leaned my entire body against the counter, “As you can see, she ditched me… Like always,” I scoffed before looking over at where my friend actually was. She was standing beside the cute guy, leaning close to him. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d be gone with him the next time I looked over at her. 

“Maybe it’s your turn to leave her at the bar.” Spencer watched as I lifted the glass of water back to my mouth. I nearly spat water all over the place with his words.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked as I moved my chair closer to him. He seemed content with where I was sitting, and how close I was to him. To be honest, I wished I could be closer to him. 

“Could mean anything you wanted it to mean,” he replied with a shrug. I stared at him for a moment, slowly leaning closer to him, but not getting too close. 

“You’re right.” I smiled as I stared at him. He looked away from his drink and nodded. “Like going home before her to go to bed early.” I laughed. Spencer returned the laughter and shook his head. 

“If that’s what you want it to mean,” he smiled at me. I rolled my eyes and shrugged.

“Nah, I don’t think I wanna go home yet,” I sighed, resting my head on my fist, and my elbow on the bar counter. We both stayed quiet for a moment, letting the silence carry our “conversation”.

“So… Older men…?” Spencer asked after the long silence. He looked down at me with a smug smile. I froze in my seat, my eyes on the glass of, now, ice in front of me. 

“You did hear that conversation,” I lazily laughed as I looked up at him. I couldn’t help but nibble lightly on my lower lip as I looked at him. “Nah…” I looked up at him, feeling a small smile grow on my lips. Spencer looked down at me with a raised eyebrow and a sly smirk. “Maybe… Possibly… Definitely older men…” My head fell back in laughter. Spencer kept his eyes on me and his smile grew more amused than smug. 

Spencer definitely met my standards in men. He seemed to be older than me, I wasn’t exactly willing to question that though. There was a certain… gentlemanly-ness to him that I infinitely enjoyed. He was definitely not like any other guy I’ve talked to. And he 100% wasn’t some 20-something-year-old guy who claims he has all the experience in the world but doesn’t. Spencer seemed very experienced, in what? Well, everything I guess. I could just sense it by the way he talked to me and the way he held himself.

“My last boyfriend was 10 years older than me, and the one before that was 7 years older…” I paused, staring at him. I wondered what he was thinking, and if he was thinking what everyone thinks… ‘This girl has totally got daddy issues.’ “I don’t have daddy issues,” I rolled my eyes as I gravitated closer to his body. I looked up at Spencer, my hand falling to rest on his thigh as I moved closer to him. His body tensed slightly at my touch. I felt a little bad at first, but when I went to move my hand, he stopped me. His hand reaching out to grab my wrist.

“Even if you did, I don’t think that would influence your taste in men.” He looked down at me. It was then did I realize just how close our faces were to each other. 

“That’s good to hear because most people just automatically assume that I have daddy issues,” I murmured as I looked between his lips and eyes, “Although… It’s just a lie… I tell myself that because people always say women with daddy issues are sluts… But I’m not…” I whispered as I slowly moved closer to him.

“I didn’t think that,” Spencer furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head, “And I’ve known you for all of 45 minutes,” he laughed as he removed his hand from my wrist.

“Good,” I laughed lightly. “Can I kiss you?” my voice was a murmur as I looked into his eyes. Spencer licked his lips before parting them slightly. He didn’t seem too shocked or taken aback by my proposition. But when he spoke he was a little… nervous.

“If… If that’s what you want,” he whispered as he looked at me. I took a deep breath, my hand resting on his leg shifting a bit as I moved closer to him. Spencer took a shaky breath as I looked up at him.

“Do you want it?” 

“I… I’d be lying if I said no, but I don’t want to take advantage of a woman under the influence,” 

“It’s what I want,” I leaned even closer, not even an inch between us. I could feel his breath through my nose, that’s how close we are. “And I’m not under the influence,” I spoke, losing my confidence with each word. It was also an obvious lie too. We both knew how many drinks I had. “I’ve had two glasses of water and a handful of bar nuts, and it’s been like an hour since my last drink. I’m okay,” I whispered as I leaned totally on him. 

Spencer looked down at me, his face still as his eyes examined my face. He slowly brought a hand up to my face, resting it gently under my chin. I smiled, feeling my face heat up again. When he squinted his eyes, I felt my heart rate spike. 

“Please,” I begged. The bar and world around me simply vanished as I became so involved with Spencer and everything about him. In that moment, I was obsessed with him. “Kiss me,”

Spencer let out a soft breath of air from his lips before pressing them to mine. If the cool water didn’t sober me up, this kiss sure did. But at the same time, it was so intoxicating. Sure I’ve kissed men before, but this time it was… Different. Something else was going to happen tonight, with Spencer. But I couldn’t exactly place what it was that was going to happen.

My free hand lifted from its place beside me and went to his head, my fingers getting tangled in his hair. My other hand stayed put on his thigh, my grip slowly hardening on his leg. I tried to be quiet as a moan came from me, but I obviously failed. Spencer moaned right back into my mouth. I suppose I was happy he didn’t have an issue with our volume. Thank God the music was loud enough to drown us out.

When I pulled away from him, I nearly fell into the bar. Thankfully Spencer looked at me, his hand going to my hip to keep me from crashing into the counter. I looked up at him, taking a deep breath to get my head clear. But it was hard when I went back to him, my arms wrapping around his neck as my lips crashed back into his. 

Spencer’s hands moved quickly over my back, resting on my hips, lower back. Anywhere he could reach, he would touch. He turned more to face me, allowing me to stand between his legs. 

“We… We should stop… Before one of us does something we’ll… We’ll regret,” he whispered softly. Spencer pressed his forehead to mine as he spoke. I took a deep breath, my chest rising and falling quickly. 

“No… No, we shouldn’t.” I looked up at him, my hands getting knotted up in his hair again. Spencer looked at me, a certain softness on his face. “I think… You… You meet my standards, Spencer.” I blinked at him. 

Spencer quickly looked over at the bartender before fumbling for his wallet. I looked at him, watching him pull out more money than needed and shoving it in the bartender’s hands. He looked back at me, wrapping an arm around my waist and guiding me out. I smiled as Spencer dragged me out of the bar. 

For the first time ever, I was leaving the bar before my friend… And I didn’t care about her. 

Spencer looked back at me as we stepped outside and the semi-cool air of the night felt really good against my hot skin. Inside I almost couldn’t breathe, but outside it felt like it just came to me. It was so… refreshing.

I didn’t realize Spencer had called a taxi till he was pulling me to the vehicle. I looked up at him, blinking slowly as he pulled the car door open. Swallowing down the sudden excitement and fear mixture, I slid into the taxi before him.

 I wasn’t scared because I was having sex for the first time. No, I was scared that I was going home with a strange man. Anything could happen, honestly. What if he was a murderer? 

“Where to?” The taxi driver looked up in the rearview mirror at me and Spencer. I was the quickest to talk, giving him my address before Spencer could give his. 

Spencer glanced at me, watching as I nervously played with the hem of my dress. When I glanced at him, I noticed that he was turned to face me more, whereas I was still, facing the seat in front of me.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and soft. I moved my head a little too fast as I looked at him. 

“Mm, yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I’ve never done something like this before, that’s all,” I whispered, looking at him as I bit my lower lip. Spencer nodded as he looked at me, watching as I shifted closer to him. 

“We don’t… We don’t have to…” Spencer started but stopped when I maneuvered to straddle his legs. He looked up at me as he carefully rested his hands on my hips. I swallowed roughly as I looked down at him. My hands pressed to his chest to hold myself upright, and my head occasionally hitting the roof of the taxi with every bump we went over.

“I know... I know we don’t have to do anything…” My heart slamming in my chest as I stared at him. I moved my hands from his chest to gently cup his face. His cheeks were stubbly, prickling at the palms of my hands as I held his face. With one final deep breath of air, I pressed my lips to his, this time a lot more passionately than before. 

Spencer pressed his lips down my face, and neck while his hands roamed my body. My hands stayed planted on his face, keeping me in place over his body. I was so into him just… touching me that I didn’t even realize his hand had slipped in the front of my dress. His fingers gently stroking the skin on my inner thigh.

My head fell to the side as he pressed his lips down my neck more before going towards my chest. A huff of air came from my lungs as I pushed my hands through his hair. 

“Uh… We’re, uh… at your destination…” The poor taxi driver spoke from his spot in the front. I moved Spencer’s head away from my body and I looked down at him. 

“You… you pay him.” I stared down at him, feeling a certain embarrassment grow in my stomach, and across my face. Spencer quickly fumbled for his wallet before pulling out more money than necessary and tossing it to the driver. After he shoved his wallet back into his pocket, he wrapped his arms around my waist before exiting the taxi. A squeal came from my mouth as he carried me out of the vehicle and towards my complex. 

“Spencer!” I screamed as my arms wrapped around his neck. A dizzying feeling took me over as a hard bulge pressed between my legs. I almost couldn’t hold back a moan.

 He laughed before putting his lips back on my neck, nipping lightly on the sensitive skin. And I couldn’t help but let out a soft moan, almost a whimper. 

“Keys,” Spencer muttered into my neck. I took a deep breath, my chest pressing into his body more. 

“Unlocked,” I gasped as he nipped my neck again. He hummed as he opened the door and entered my home. He put my back down once we were inside, door shut and locked. I grabbed his hand and pulled him down the hall towards my bedroom.

Spencer pushed the door shut and pressed me against it, pressing his lips to mine like I was the last woman on earth. His arms were propped up on either side of my head, blocking me between the door and his body. It’s a good thing I didn’t feel trapped because I otherwise wouldn’t have allowed that to happen.

My breathing picked up when he pressed his hips against me. A pit grew in my stomach, and I couldn’t tell if it was actually anxiety or excitement. I was willing to bet it was both. 

As the anxiety slowly melted away, a new feeling took over. A feeling of want and hunger. It was the type of feeling that could be satisfied by another person, or by my own doing. But, I knew I wanted it from Spencer. I needed it from Spencer. 

“I need to feel something,” I whimpered against his lips as he pinned me against the door, “Please, I need to feel you.” My leg wrapping around his waist to pull him closer to me. I almost couldn’t breathe, my excitement getting the better of me. 

Spencer looked down at me, a hand slowly coming up to my face, resting gently on my cheek. My eyes blinked slowly as he examined my face. I wondered what he was thinking, and if they were good thoughts. I only wondered what he thought because of how he looked at me. His features were soft and gentle like he was a child holding a fluffy, white dandelion. But the way his eyes moved across my face… They were hungry. Unlike his soft facial features, his eyes wanted to destroy everything in sight… 

And I liked it. It should have scared me, right? A man looking at me like he was about to destroy my life… But the way he did it… I liked...

While he kept one hand on my face, his other hand was high on my upper thigh. His thumb carefully moving back and forth on the soft skin. I wonder if he knew how desperate I was beginning to feel. And he only fueled my desperation the further up his hand traveled.  

A sharp gasp fell from my mouth as his hand finally moved against my underwear. His fingers were gentle as they ghosted over me. I wondered if he could feel how aroused I was through my underwear. Probably, it was impossible to hide that…

The way his hands touched me and held me was weird. He was still gentle, but there was a certain hastiness to it that I noticed. Like he was trying to claim something that wasn’t his. 

“Please,” I whimpered as he trailed kisses down my neck. My chest began heaving as he began tracing his finger over my underwear. Okay, now he had to know how desperate I was. Spencer groaned once he pressed his lips back to mine. 

“You’re so wet, Princess,” he whispered as his hand on my face fell to my chin. Another gasp came from me at the pet name. He took the opportunity to pull on my lower lip with his teeth. “I’ve hardly done anything,” he moved his head away from me and smiled, “Hardly touched you at all.” 

I looked up at him, my lower lip pouted out slightly. It was hard to say what his next action was, but I heavily anticipated it. He smiled softly as his thumb pulled down my lower lip. I wasn’t sure what to do, but I yelped when he pushed my underwear to the side, and carefully slipped a finger between my folds. 

Spencer looked down at me with a pleased smile. It was clear to me that he enjoyed my struggle. I placed my hands on his arms to keep myself up. And even though my body was pressed against the door, and I braced myself against him, my knees still wanted to give out.

I’ve never had another person touch me like this before. My previous relationships didn’t last long enough for them to do something like this. And, I’ve never exactly had this feeling before. Well, let me rephrase that, I have felt this feeling before. I’ve never felt this way from another person. I’ve masturbated before, after all I’m lonely, not Catholic. But, the feeling happening because someone else is causing it. 

“Do you like it when I touch you like this?” Spencer whispered as he slowly pressed a finger into me. I looked up at him and nodded as I pressed my lips together. “Use your words,” 

“Yes, it feels so good… s’good, Daddy,” I whimpered as I looked at him. I swear I saw the corner of his lips twitched slightly. Did my title for him do to him what it did to me? It was obvious he liked it. 

Spencer stared at me for a moment before harshly pressing his lips back to mine. It felt as if he was taking the breath right from my lungs with everything he was doing. His hand between my legs moved a little faster, my hips grinding down on him in reaction.

“Say it again,” he murmured against my lips. The way he moved his face caused our noses to squish together. My heart was slamming in my chest and I could hear it in my head. It felt like at any moment it’d break out of me. 

I softly yelped when he carefully inserted a second finger in me. His pace quickened slightly and I couldn’t concentrate on anything.  

A tension grew in the pit of my belly, and slowly grew as the seconds ticked by. I wasn’t sure how long I’d make it till the tension cracked. I wondered if Spencer sensed that too.

 I removed my hands from his arms and wrapped my arms around his neck to hold him closer to me. It was so hard to hold back the soft whimpers and moans I was feeling getting trapped in my throat. Although, Spencer seemed to enjoy my struggle.

It became more of a struggle the stronger the tension grew. It was close too. 

“Say it again.”

“I’m s’close, Daddy,” I whined, my head involuntarily falling to my shoulder. Spencer looked down at me before moving to press his lips to my neck. His lips attaching to the base of my throat before sucking gently on the sensitive skin. 

Again my body reacted by trying to get closer to him. The closer I got to him, the faster he went. I could tell that he was trying to bring me closer to the edge, to finish the moment. 

“Let go, it’s okay,” Spencer whispered. I swallowed roughly, my head falling forward onto his shoulder before my body slowly fell into his. It was hard not to stay quiet, my sounds getting louder as I finally finished. 

I stayed against his body, trying to recollect my breathing for a moment. Spencer rested a hand on my back, rubbing soothing circles on my shoulder. And after I had my moment, I stood back up, leaning against the door behind me.

Spencer looked back at me as he pulled his hand out from my underwear. He looked down at his hand, more specifically the two fingers he just had in me. I nearly lost my balance again when he put those exact fingers in his mouth. And it didn’t help at all when he moaned. 

“You did so good, Princess.” He looked at me with a soft smile. Part of me was worried that was all we were going to do. Sure it was nice, but that was that the end of it? 

He cupped my face again before pressing his lips back to mine. His arms were wrapped around my body before he led me towards my bed. But I didn’t realize we were going to my bed till the edge of it hit the back of my knees.

A breath of air was knocked from my lungs the second my back collided with my bed. I looked up at Spencer, watching as he fought to take his jacket off. But when he finally did get it off, he was back over my body, his lips on mine while his hands roamed my body. My fingers quickly unbuttoned his shirt, and his hands were pushing up my dress. His touch was like wildfire across my body, and it felt near impossible to breathe.

“Please, Spencer,” I whimpered as his lips reattached to my neck. My eyes fluttered shut as he gently sucked a spot on the base of my neck. His hands pushed the top of my dress down, making it sit around my hips.

"Tell me what you want, Princess," he spoke against my skin.

"You… I just need you…" 

It was really… strange. I had just met him not more than 2 hours ago… and I couldn't get enough of him. Even though I knew this would be the only time I'd ever see him, I never wanted the moment to end. I needed him more than I needed air, it felt like. I needed the night to last as long as possible.

Spencer looked down at me for a moment before getting off the bed. I had to hold back my laughter as he struggled to take his pants off. And after throwing his shirt to the ground, he was back over me, his body between my legs. My chest tightened, and at the same time, my heart sped. 

I tried not looking further than his neck. But it was so hard. Did I want to see what he looked like before anything happened? Or would it make me want to back out? 

I shouldn’t look...

“Will it hurt?” I brought my eyes to look up at him. I wasn’t exactly scared. I was more worried about it hurting than anything else, I think. I wanted this.

“Maybe for a moment, but not too long,” he whispered as he brushed his thumb over my cheekbone, “If it hurts too much we can stop… But you have to tell me,” he spoke so softly. 

“I can do that,” I whispered, keeping his eyes on him. My arms wrapped around his neck as he pressed a soft, yet passionate kiss to my lips. His hips slowly started to lower towards my sex. That was when my breathing picked up, and my chest heaved slightly.

“It’s okay, you’re doing such a great job,” he whispered against my lips, “I got you.”

A soft wince came from my mouth when he carefully entered me. My fingers knotted in his hair, gently tugging it as he slowly kept going. I struggled to take a deep breath. My head fell back and my lips opened.

“Spencer,” I whined, finally allowing air to enter my lungs, “You’re so big,” I moaned as I pressed my head into my pillow. One of my arms fell from his body and landed on the bedding beside me. My hand gripped the bedding. 

“You’re doing a great job, Princess,” Spencer whispered as he grasped my hand and held it. I looked up at him and nodded lightly. “You’re okay?”

“I’m okay,” I whispered and stared at him. After a moment, he carefully moved his hips, and soon after fell into a steady rhythm. 

“Please… Please don’t stop doing what you’re doing,” I gasped. I slowly ran my hands up his chest to his shoulders before wrapping my arms around his neck. Spencer looked down at me, his eyes half-closed as he stared. “It feels so good,” I whimpered as he started to slowly move his hips. 

My legs tensed for a moment when he bottomed out in me, and I could feel the wind being knocked out of me. Spencer looked down at me as he brought a hand to rest on my cheek.

Spencer grabbed my hand and moved it to rest against my belly. An unfamiliar bump hit my hand through my stomach and caused me to gasp and look up at him. Spencer smiled and nodded lightly.

“Do you feel how deep I am?” he whispered softly.

“You… You’re…” I took a deep breath as I stared at him. He pressed his lips back to mine. His movements hastened and he pulled his hand away from mine, moving it between us and to where our bodies met. A small whimper fell from my mouth, again, as he began rubbing a finger on the already sensitive bundle of nerves. “Daddy,” I whined as his hips quickened for a moment before faltering.

I cried out as an unfamiliar warmth spread throughout my body. Spencer moaned into my ear. My legs were wrapped around him, clinging to him as he rode out our highs together. And, as I came, I couldn’t help but moan out his name.

My chest was heaving as my breathing tried to catch up with the extreme movements I was just doing. I couldn’t move my legs off him. I wasn’t ready for him to leave me just yet.

“Don’t move…” I gasped, looking up at him, “Please, Daddy… stay inside me…” I cried as he began moving away from me. My hands gripped his arms, holding him above me. Spencer looked down at me, his eyes glued to the way I squirmed beneath him. There was such an intense gaze in his eyes as he looked at me, I wasn’t sure what to do. 

He lifted his hands and rested them on my cheeks. The way he held himself over me without actually crushing me was impressive. What was even more impressive was how he carefully pressed his hips back to mine.  

“It’s okay, I got you,” he whispered, brushing the apple of my cheek with his thumb. I stared at him, my chest quickly rising, only to fall just as fast. It felt hard to breathe, my body still feeling full with him. “You did such a good job, Princess,” he pressed his forehead to mine.

I didn’t even realize I was crying till Spencer’s thumb moved across my cheekbone. I looked up at him with wide eyes. 

“Are you okay?” Spencer whispered as he kept his eyes on my face.

“I’m good. I’m okay. I promise.” I wrinkled my nose and nodded. Spencer smiled softly and returned the nod. “I’m-I don’t know why I’m crying,” I laughed lightly before sniffling my nose, “I’m sorry.”

“Sex can be an emotional thing for some people. And since this was your first time, it was an emotional experience. You’re okay. You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” Spencer reassured. I stared at him and nodded, agreeing with what he said. “I’m going to get you water and a wipe or something.”

“Uhm… Yeah that’s okay… I guess. Bathroom is over there. I should have a cup in there. And there should be paper towels too.” I nodded as I gestured towards the bathroom. Spencer pecked my lips one last time before pulling away from me and leaving the bed.

‘It’s just a one-night stand,’ I kept telling myself just so I wouldn’t forget what this really was. And, in the morning, I’d never see him again.

{***}{***}{***}

My body jerked slightly when I woke up. An arm was wrapped around my middle, and the body that was connected to the arm was close to mine. Her head was resting on my chest, her ear right over my heart. She, and like my surroundings, were unfamiliar. 

“Crap,” I whispered, looking down at the girl and her sleeping form. She hummed as she nuzzled her head more into my chest. I pulled on my lower lips as I carefully pulled her arm off mine. I had to be quick as I slipped out of the bed.

Usually, I wasn’t the type to just sleep with someone and then leave them the next day. To have a one-night stand, if you will. If today wasn’t the sort of day it was, I’d stay with this girl till she woke. But I had to leave to get ready for a new semester at the college. 

I quickly grabbed my shirt and pants, throwing them on my body as I quietly and quickly left her apartment. My feet dragged quietly across the ground as I got closer to the front door. I pulled the door open at just the right time. Or maybe it was a bad time.

A young woman was standing with a carrier filled with coffee cups, her fist was lifted like she was about to knock. Our eyes locked before hers carefully looked down my body, lingering in spots that made me very aware. 

“Holy shit,” she stared at me with wide eyes, “She wasn’t joking when she said she likes older men,” she stated, the shock in her tone was so apparent that it left me in shock. It was her friend from last night.

“I-I’m sorry.” I looked at her with furrowed brows.

“You’re old enough to be her father,” she spoke before pushing past me. I turned as she entered the apartment. “She’s got balls of steel to fuck a guy like you,” she spoke as she set the carrier on the coffee table, “But, I’m happy she did… Hope her first time was good,” she chuckled before winking at me.

“I-I have to go,” I nodded before leaving. I pulled the door shut. I tried not to linger in front of her home for too long. She’d probably be awake soon, and I really didn’t want to stick behind. 

I kept my head low as I ventured on my walk of shame to the closest coffee shop. And then, from the coffee shop, I’d get a taxi to return home… To return to my home.

The second anyone finds out I had a one-night stand, I’m dead. I’m leaving. I could only hope it stayed between me and those two girls. 

{***}{***}{***}

I looked over at my coworker and nodded, only half paying attention to what they were saying. Which, in turn, made me feel bad. This morning is not my morning and there were only so many reasons why.

Then I looked across the grounds, looking at all the new and familiar faces returning for a new semester of classes. My eyes landed on a familiar girl walking beside a friend. She was laughing and smiling at whatever her friend said.

“Fuck,” I muttered as I stared at the girl. Then she looked up and saw me. An embarrassed look grew across her face as her gaze fell from mine. I kept my eyes on the girl across the campus for a moment longer, long enough to notice that the friend she was with had spilled coffee over her shirt.

“I have to go…” I grimaced as I looked at my colleague. They looked back at me before slowly nodded. I kept my head low as I walked back towards the building and towards my lecture hall. 

Thankfully I was the first and only person in the room. Enough time to prepare over everything. To free my mind of… of her and what we had done last night. But oh dear God, it was so hard. 

I thought I had a lot of time on my hands, seeing as the class didn’t start for 5 more minutes. I thought it was bad when I saw her across the campus. Then she entered my lecture hall, clearing her throat to get my attention. 

She introduced herself like I had no idea who I was. As if this was the first time we ever met. Maybe she forgot? But she definitely wasn’t drunk enough to forget. I wouldn’t have taken advantage of someone wasted as Luke or Derek would say. She was lucid, I know that much. Hell, she was able to give the taxi driver her address. 

“Spencer… Reid… Professor Reid is fine... Reid... Doctor Reid. I'll-I’ll answer to pretty much anything,” I rambled, feeling as if I couldn’t stop myself from talking. She looked at me with a knowing smile, and I wondered if she thought ‘Oh, I know you’ll answer to anything… Daddy,’ That’s probably a bad thing to think, right?

“Oh! It’s wonderful meeting you, Professor Reid,” she kept talking as if she didn’t know who I was. 

“Pleasure meeting… Meeting you too,” I paused with a forced smile at her, “Can’t wait to have you in my class.” I stared at her. The way she stared at me confirmed that she was pretending that she didn’t know me. I thanked God or whatever other Deity was out there that she was pretending. I don’t think I would have been able to survive if she acted like we knew each other. 

“Can’t wait to be in your class.” She nodded at me before going to the first seat in the front row. I stared at her for a prolonged moment, noting the way she crossed her legs at her ankle, and looked down at her notes. She held her pen between her thumb and forefinger, the end of it just barely between her lips. I couldn’t stop hating on myself for just leaving her this morning.

 Then I noticed she was staring back at me. She had a smug smile on her lips as she looked at me. It felt as if she was reading my mind as if she knew every thought that had passed my mind from the moment she entered my lecture hall.

‘Shit,’ I thought as the memories of last night forced themselves to the front of my head. All the things I said to her last night stood in the spotlight. The idiot part of me that said the stuff about impregnating her and how she kept calling me daddy stood out loud and clear. I broke this poor girl, and it was too late. And the worst part about it is… I’d do it again if I had the chance.

 My pants tightened and my face grew hot. How the fuck was I supposed to get through the day? Let alone this semester?! That’s the thing I wasn’t supposed to do. 

I was happy when the end of the class came. Everyone stayed in the room for a moment, bantering with each other for a moment before leaving.

I kept my eyes, and head, low as all the students filed out of the room. A few people stayed around to ask me their questions, or give me their comments. It was until the last standing student had exited the room did I realize someone was still at her desk. 

“Is there something-” ‘I can help you with,’

“Why’d you leave this morning?” she asked, standing up from her spot. I looked up and away from the paperwork I was “working” on. Swallowing down my own pride and unnecessary fears, I stood. My fingertips resting on top of my desk. “Woulda made you coffee… Breakfast even…” she whispered with a shrug. 

“Right…”

“You were hoping I was so drunk I forgot who you were, right? That’s what it is?” she asked, her eyebrows knitting together as she spoke. I watched as she stepped around her desk and approached my own. “I thought… I don’t know what it’s like the morning after… But if that’s what it is… Then I don’t want it,” she scoffed as she stared at me. I didn’t mean to hurt her as much as I did. But it was already too late, and the damage was done. 

“That’s not what it’s like. I promise,” I whispered as I looked at her. I wasn’t prepared to make up excuses and lies as to why I just left. But I also don’t think she’d believe my truth either. 

“Then why did you leave,” she ask-No, she begged. Begged me for the truth. 

“I-I, uh, I had to leave because of this. I needed to get ready for this class,” I tapped down on the hard surface of my desk. Her eyes dropped down to the desktop. I could see the range of emotions on her face as she looked at all the papers scattered on my desk. Maybe she would believe me. Again, I don’t think I would have been able to come up with a believable lie.

“You could have woken me up, still… I seriously would have made you coffee,” she muttered before shrugging, again. 

“Next time then,” I swallowed roughly as I stared at her. Her eyes shot up from the desk and landed right on my face. I could tell she was trying to keep her sudden excitement hidden. But I knew she was excited because of the way the corner of her lip twitched up slightly, and the way she shifted her stance, and the way her grip on her books changed, and all the other things I could list off but won’t.

“Next time?” It was obvious she struggled to keep her voice low.  

“I mean, never say never, right?” I asked, shoving my hands in my pockets. She looked at me with a smile as she hugged her books closer to her chest.

“Right… Never say never,” she whispered as she looked back down at the desk, “It was nice meeting you, Professor Reid,” she paused before looking up at me, a smug smile back on her lips, “And, it was nice seeing you again, Spencer,” she winked at me before walking out of my lecture hall. I swallowed roughly, staring at the space she once occupied. 

Fuck.

if you want to be a part of a taglst or have any comments about this one shot, let me know here

taglist: @spencer-reid-in-a-pool​  @thebluetint​ @muffin-cup​ @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto​ @spencersmagic​

[astaroth1357]

More undateables with a demigod hades mc???

By request, have yourself a part two!! 

Demigod MC Series: Hades Pt. 2 (Un)Dateables Edition!

I will ask that y’all please don't ask for continuations of other gods unless I say it’s okay to do again. This series already fills my inbox something fierce and this is a one-off that I allowed for during the request window.  If I have to make ideas for new gods while continuing a bunch of old MCs, it'll burn me out fast...

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus, Demeter, Athena, Hades Pt. 2

Diavolo

Oh, he has no problem at all hosting a child of the Underworld, hell he even throws them a welcome banquet when he finds out! Hades is a dear friend - and practically a parental figure to him growing up - so he's more than happy to take in one of his children for a year.

Diavolo is actually one of the few people that the MC can talk to about their home with any kind of fondness. Usually when they bring up things like the comforting wailing of the River Coctyus, the brothers will give them weird looks... but Diavolo knows where they're coming from!

He spent numerous summers in the Underworld growing up doing things like pestering Charon on the River Styx or playing games with Cerberus (the other one) in the Asphodel Meadows... His beach house is actually modeled after his childhood summer home in the Isles of Paradise! Really, it can be a lovely place if the gloom doesn't bother you!

So in the spirit of his fond memories, Diavolo really tried to make their time in the Devildom a fun one!... in his maybe trying a little too hard way…  

Poor MC found themselves offered pretty much everything under the moon… Tickets or exclusive passes to different cultural events/festivals, invitations to gala events, and tours of nearly every inch of Hell by the Prince himself - it was… it was a lot for the poor introverted thing…

It didn’t help that Diavolo would have a hard time gauging if they were having any fun due to their naturally melancholic nature, which only pushed him to try harder… He means well, he does. He’s just not the most in touch with what would make an anti-social doom child happy...

It took Barbatos and Lucifer stepping in for the mortal to actually start getting some much needed space and that improved their experience significantly. Sometimes less is more, Dia… Less is more. But they appreciate his efforts anyway.

Barbatos 

Also has a pretty amicable relationship with the Ruler of the Underworld, though his is much more professional compared to Diavolo’s. He actually has a good deal of appreciation for the man for taking good care of the Prince during his visits, so he sees this as an opportunity to return the favor.

Like Diavolo, he’s rather focused on making sure the MC is having a good stay in the Devildom, but he’s much more subtle about it. He’ll come by the House often to check up on them and make sure everything is to their liking... 

Even the brothers notice that he treats them like anothering visiting Lord/Lady in that way, which he would argue they very much are and should be respected as one. It’s the least the Devildom can offer their father at this point.

His visits may also be an excuse for keeping an eye on the brothers to make sure they don’t do anything to inconvenience their “young guest…” To be honest, the entire House is a little paranoid about that… Nobody wants to know the punishment for hurting MC if Barbs is the one dishing it out...

Apart from watching out for them, Barbatos tries to encourage the MC to accept the Young Lord’s gifts (while also actively advising Diavolo to go easier on them at the same time). It would be so disheartening to him if his Prince feels like he hasn’t offered them the best experience that he could… He’s sure they understand.

Any time that he invites the MC to tea, they usually end up talking about their father in some way. Barbs knows a surprising amount about the god… He’s been around about as long as Chronos - preceding the birth of Aether and Chaos themselves - so he has some stories to tell.

The MC did once ask him why he doesn’t just run everything if he’s really been around for so long... his answer was: “Kings and their kingdoms will rise and fall… Worlds upon worlds are born, then cease to be. But time is what brings about all changes… So, I think I’m perfectly content with the power I possess. Wouldn’t you be?” 

Annnd they never asked Barbs another question like that again… and people think death is scary… 

Simeon 

He was honestly a little worried for their new companion for quite a while… It’s not like there’s never any sadness in the Celestial Realm or anything, but they seem to have something else entirely…

He’s heard stories about the Underworld. He’s never been himself, that’s usually a job for the Seraphim due to the… dreary nature of the place - but he’s heard it would make the Devildom look downright festive…

If he were being honest, he had half expected the MC to be obsessed with skeletons, ghosts, and other elements of darkness but that wasn’t the case. They certainly knew a lot about those things, but they appeared to have a healthy interest in the afterlife in general, so they asked him a lot of questions about the Celestial Realm, angels, and how the souls of the blessed are treated up there… It was surprising to say the least.

Of course he did the same and, frankly, Simeon found it incredibly wasteful that so many Greek followers find themselves just wasting away in a field of nothing for so long… but that’s neither here nor there.

He was also surprised by how gentle of an influence the MC ended up being on Luke as well. He had always suspected that the little angel just needed a bridge between him and Devildom to start finding appreciation for it, and the MC fit that bill perfectly - nothing he was used to, but still approachable enough to make everything less frightening. He thanks them a great deal for that… but...

It’s just that… Well they’re just so… depressing sometimes…! He doesn’t want to blame them because it hardly seems like their fault! They’re a very kind person, it’s just an atmosphere around them… It brings him to tears if he isn’t careful…

He’s invited the MC to Purgatory Hall on multiple occasions to chat and try to make them smile… When they do, the gloom is dispelled - even just a little - and they’re a truly beautiful creature regardless. It’s just so unfortunate that their life brings so much sadness...

Even so, he actually likes the MC enough to consider basing a character on them if he ever wrote another book. Something about a gloomy but sweet protagonist at home in a world of darkness sounds appealing… doesn’t it?

Luke

He didn’t know how to feel about the MC when they met. At first, he actually thought they were just as unhappy as he was to be there due to how depressed they looked but when they told him that wasn't true, he was really confused...

The Devildom is a dark, brutish, and dangerous place. Why would anyone feel at home down here??

But… well… He would spend time with them at RAD between breaks (partially to help scare off their many, many demonic suitors) and it might be weird to say, but they really made the Devildom look beautiful… literally.

The world just looks better when they’re around! It’s really hard to describe because it’s not something you notice much until they leave, but when the MC is around everything looks more vibrant and inviting! The grass gets greener, flowers grow bigger, and butterflies/birds hover around wherever they are like they have their own gravity - the realm loves them!

It started getting hard for Luke to hang onto his disdain for the place when they made it look so appealing… And then they started talking to him about the Underworld and the creatures they’d befriended there… creatures a lot worse than any demons he’d seen there...

Like. If the MC can be good friends with a bunch of rude walking corpses, then he could probably make friends with a demon right? There’s nice ones… kind of… 

Beel. He can make friends with Beel.

Like Simeon, he does feel bad that they seem so sad all the time… but unlike the older angel, he’s a bit more understanding that this is just how they are and enjoys his time with them regardless. (It helps a lot that just being around this little bean of a boy can lift their spirits anyway).

And you know what’s even better for him? When Lord Diavolo gives the MC tickets to things that they don’t want to go to, sometimes they’ll invite him along or give them to him instead! 

He’s gone to the Devil’s Coast with MC and Simeon sooo many times by now and he loves it!! Maybe the Devildom isn’t so bad after all, I mean, it can be a lot of fun when you go to the right places, anyway.

Solomon

Oh, he finds them both deeply fascinating and utterly terrifying - so just his sort of test sub-er, person!

He kids (somewhat), Solomon isn’t that dumb/lacking in self-preservation instinct. Experimenting on a child of death in a land of the dead (even if it’s not their “home turf”) would be asking for trouble. They’d have more than enough ammunition to fight him off and if their father found out? Immortality wouldn’t even begin to save him...

That being said, questions aren’t necessarily experiments… and oh boy, does he have a lot of them.

If the MC isn’t being pestered by Diavolo or the brothers, then they’re probably having to put up with Solomon nipping at their heels trying to get them to use their powers or answer all sorts of “innocent” scientific questions…

“MC, reanimation of Greek dead requires a blood offering, correct? Do you have to sacrifice animals for that process or do you allow them to feast on your own?”

“MC, when you’re controlling a skeleton do you move the body as a whole or do you have to animate each individual bone due to their lack of ligaments?”

“Think fast!! Oh look, you just caught the skull of my good friend, Richard! Could you bring him back from that, or should I fetch the rest of him?” 🙂

They put up with it because, believe it or not, he’s not nearly the weirdest person they’ve ever met (a lot of crazy people drift in and out of the land of the dead…) and well… they’re a pretty lonely person too so it’s not like they have a lot of standards when it comes to friendships anyway.

But the second they breathe a word of this to Barbs or Diavolo, this boy is on his way to a royal restraining order… Where does he even get those skulls…?

[genshin-scenarios]

Going to Build-a-Bear with them!

This is headcanon commission for platonic Hu Tao, Yoimiya and Baal! Tysm again for the support 👉👈 💗 it really means a lot!

Commissions are still open, DM if interested!

Hu Tao

What’s living if not trying new things? Hu Tao is more than willing to accompany you to build-a-bear! 

In fact, before you started she suggested that the both of you design a stuffed animal for each other to take home. It’d be a nice token of your friendship, right? She looks forward to seeing what you’ll pick! “It’ll also be a way to figure out how you see me, fufu.”

While butterflies do remind you of her, you chose a more mobile animal’s design, like a bird or cat since you think it could keep up with her more easily! When you said as much, she couldn’t help but playfully nudge you; trying to be poetic now, are we? Well two can play at that game!

Hu Tao’s choices range between deeply considered and just a matter of instinct - though rest assured, she’s enjoying herself to the fullest and making sure the both of you will have no regrets! When she sees you contemplating what scent to use, Hu Tao draws your attention to the accessory on her hat.

“Plum blossoms have quite a nice fragrance, but anything similar would be good too~”

Thankful for the hint, you nodded and managed to find the scent in question - it wasn’t too strong, and had a hint of sweetness. Hu Tao continues to hum a tune while she picks out yours, asking you if you had a preference too. All in all, hanging out with her is fun, even if she likes to tease you at times!

Yoimiya

You’re never too old to appreciate a good plushie, in her opinion! Yoimiya likes spending time with you, so when you mention this to her she’s all for it!

She really enjoys the customization part, since it really lets you turn this into a special memory for yourself. Yoimiya had fun playing around with the different sound effects, adding both cute and funny ones to her stuffed toy.

She also adds something extra to hers; a wish written on paper, to be put in with the stuffing.

What did she wish for? Haha, why don’t you guess? It’s a wish she holds close to her heart. (She’ll tell you later! For now, best not to voice it out in case that causes it to not come true-!)

You’re definitely naming them by the end of this. Yoimiya insists, though she has trouble deciding on one. She goes through a bunch of potential names instead whilst you stroll around after your session. Perhaps you could get a snack during this!

She might also get sidetracked and start telling stories about where those name ideas came from; though she’s been doing the same when you were building your plushies, rambling whenever she was reminded of something. You don’t mind though! If you ever get confused about who or what she’s talking about, Yoimiya is more than happy to elaborate!

Baal

Baal really wasn’t used to this, but upon your encouragement, she decided that it wouldn’t hurt to try the workshop with you. Seeing your enthusiasm when you explained what this was helped make things feel less intimidating and foreign.

She listens to the staff’s instructions and recommendations attentively. Baal may not be wearing a smile at the moment, but that’s only because she’s taking this seriously! It’s her way of treating the matter with respect, and you’re touched that she’s approaching this with such an open mind.

Seeing her do the hug test may just be your favourite part - it’s not something you see every day after all! By then Baal has loosened up enough to treat this as something fun rather than a thing to perfect, and she looks at you to ask if you were satisfied with your plushie. “Shall we move on to the next part?”

Oh, she enjoys the outfits and accessories part a lot. Baal is someone that appreciates beauty, and her eye for it isn’t something to overlook. She even picks up items that she thinks would look nice on your stuffed toy, letting you know of her suggestion before going back to hers. At the end of the day, she’s quite satisfied with her plushie - one that carries a relaxing, floral scent, and a matching ribbon with yours.

[luvyanfei]

with a short & insecure s/o (hcs)

ft. xiao, kaeya, zhongli, & xingqiu requested by anon

this,,, this is me

xiao. 

he’s appalled when he finds out people actually tease you for your height. xiao has always known how terrible humans can be, but to think they would attempt to tear someone down, specifically his lover, just because they’re considered small irate him to no end. you might want to hold on to him tightly before he can storm off and declare war on the bullies who dared to torment you in any way. 

he honestly doesn’t care if you’re short or tall, ugly or pretty - your appearance isn’t what’s important here. he fell in love with you for what’s inside of you, don’t forget that, okay? xiao may not outright say all that because he’s embarrassed of showing his soft side to you, but if your insecurity gets the better of you, he’ll at least lend an ear to you as you rant to him while stargazing together. 

however, what xiao despises more than others treating you poorly is you belittling yourself. he has zero tolerance for that kind of attitude and will react quite aggressively, gripping you by the shoulders and shaking you. he can’t help himself. it hurts him deeply, dare he say more than a stab to his heart, seeing you wallowing in self-hatred. he’s harsh, but he means well. xiao would much rather see a content smile on your face than having you look disconsolate. 

“have you finally stopped your wailing yet?” xiao peers at your face drenched in tears in disinterest, but really, he’s pretty concerned on the inside. your sobs have been reduced to quiet sniffles, but your body won’t stop trembling. he looks away for a minute, sighs heavily, and pulls you into his arms, a blush coating his cheeks. 

he stays silent the whole time, too nervous to do anything really, as your palms press against his chest lightly and will yourself to calm down. xiao clears his throat and brings a finger down to brush away the glistening tears from your eyes. 

“look, just because you’re short, it doesn’t mean i don’t like you any less,” he whispers only for you to hear, and presses his lips to your forehead, letting it linger there for a few seconds. “even if you, or anybody else, don’t think you’re worthy enough, i at lease still care about you, so don’t let others’ opinions get to you.”

kaeya.

not to be blunt or anything, but kaeya being, well kaeya, he’s probably going to relentlessly tease you. he doesn’t do it because he harbors any ill-intent towards you. it’s just, kaeya is very fond of your flustered expression. if you happen to end up crying from his words, he’ll immediately stop and apologize guiltily. the last thing he needs is for you to abandon him too because of a fault on his end. 

kaeya really does love you a lot, despite your flaws and silently admires you for your empathy and altruism. one good thing about being shorter than your boyfriend is that you can wear his clothing on and he’ll be a gushing mess in no time. he’ll purposefully place his jacket somewhere for you to find in hopes you’ll put it on. he may be doing this just for the purpose of having fun, but he likes knowing that it means you're comfortable and accepting in your relationship with him. 

he likes patting you on the head when you pass by each other at random times, his lips curling in a knowing smirk. if you ever need help obtaining items that are out of your reach, kaeya will conveniently be there to lend a hand. it fuels his confidence how you always go to him for help instead of seeking support from someone who might be more reliable. it goes to show that your trust in him is deep. 

“having difficulties, [name]?” kaeya hollers to gain your attention as you look down from the ladder to glance at the knight, your hand outreached to grab at the material you need with failed attempts. “allow me to be of service~” 

he gestures for you to climb down and gets up the ladder himself, easily grasping the object in his fingers. once his feet has touched the ground, he lowers his hand to give it to you, but before your fingertips can make contact with it, he pulls it away from you. "ah ah ah~ shouldn’t i get some kind of a compensation for helping my dearest?” you stare at him in confusion before an idea plants itself in your head. ah. so that’s what he wants. with a roll of your eyes, you stride up the ladder till your eyes meet and kisses him on the lips. 

as you push your body away from him, he gives a closed-eye grin and nods in satisfaction. “that wasn’t too bad, now was it?” kaeya finally hands you the item, but he grips your free hand in his and guides it to press against his warm cheek. “you should realize by now what you’re capable of doing, stealing my heart like this. you’re so cruel [name], but perhaps that’s why i’ve grown to love you.” 

zhongli.

zhongli is an honest and good-natured man. he’ll immediately tell you that he doesn’t think to care about your height, so there’s no reason for you to worry about it either. he’s not an idiot though. he’s aware that your self-deprecating thoughts won’t disappear so easily with his consoling words alone. actions speak louder than words, after all. 

if anyone ends up insulting you for your size, zhongli won’t hesitate to politely stand up for you. although, if they stubbornly persist in demeaning you, it’ll push him to the brink of indignation, but he’ll still attempt to keep up a courteous manner for your sake as he calmly tells them to back off. like kaeya, he loves it when you wear his clothing! he’s lived for a long time to see many things, but witnessing you cuddling him while his jacket is draped snugly over your body has got to be the cutest thing he’s seen yet. 

ever the supportive individual, zhongli will help you come out of your shell and build up on your self-esteem. he’s there with you every step of the day, so if you ever slip and feel like you’re about to fall into an abyss of despair, he’ll take your out-stretched hands in his and guide you back into the light. 

“[name], is something the matter? you look as if you’re bothered by something.” zhongli questions innocently, studying your face carefully. your eyes droop slightly, but you reassure him that you were pondering how it would feel like if you were as tall as him. he nods in understanding and brings a hand up to his chin in thought. 

before you know it, he’s turned his back towards you and kneeled down. perplexed, you stare at him, unsure of what he’s doing. “you said you desired to know what it’s like to be around my height, so this is the only thing i can think of.” hesitantly, you place your hands on his shoulder blades to balance yourself and he makes sure to hold onto you tightly as he stands up slowly. you smile in appreciation at zhongli’s consideration over your feelings and presses your body closer to his. 

he beams back at you, sealing a kiss to your lips. “if you ever feel down, remember that there’s at least one person in the world that loves you - one of them being me, of course.” 

xingqiu.

he also reacts similar to kaeya, although his teasing is slightly toned down and less vocal. like, if you wanted to give him a kiss on the cheek, he might lean away from you and probably use a stool to make himself taller, but he’ll stop after a bit of fun and laughter. it’s not funny unless both of you are smiling, right?

he finds your short stature to be one of your charm points and will compliment you for that, calling you adorable and such. it’s kind of perfect for him because he likes being the big spoon, embracing you from behind and nuzzling his face against the back of your neck. if you’re around the same age as him, it’s alright! there’s still time for you to grow. he’s sure the both of you will be tall soon. there’s no judgement when you’re with him, so don’t be afraid of being yourself around xingqiu, alright? 

if he finds out your confidence is still lacking, he’ll scribble down a list of all the things he loves about you for you to read to lift your spirits up! although, that might prove to be a challenge considering his handwriting is infamously known for being illegible. 

“hmm... isn’t that the picture we took at liyue harbor together?” xingqiu observes the photo in your hand, reminiscing the fond memories. his honey irises flicker to you. “hey, what’s with the frown?” 

you shake your head and tries to change the subject, but he presses on to persuade you into explaining. when you finally do, he bursts into a fit of laughter, wiping away the tears pricking the edge of his eyes. “i apologize for my behavior, but [name], you shouldn’t have to concern yourself with such a trivial matter.” he tucks away a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, his index finger ghosting over your lips. 

“have i ever told you that you’re cute?” xingqiu murmurs, a sense of genuine compassion laced in his tone. “don’t stare at me like that, please. i’m quite serious, so there’s no need to compare yourself with me. no matter the height difference, i’ll always love you - if you’ll allow me too. 

tagging. @liliisacutieowo, @scarymoosh

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 320: Deku vs. Class 1-A

Previously on BnHA: Flashback!Kacchan was all “fuck Deku and fuck his stupid goodbye letters, I need to speak to somebody in charge.” Endeavor was all “hello, I am Somebody In Charge.” Kacchan was all “listen up asshole, you need to let us go out and collect our wayward nerd because you stupidly left him alone with All Might and that’s a fast track to disaster right there.” Endeavor was all, “[self-incriminating silence].” Rat Principal was all, “okay sure, have fun kids.” Back in the present, class 1-A was all “hi Deku” and Deku was all “I’M FINE!!!!!” and Kacchan was all “THAT’S WHAT I THOUGHT YOU’D SAY YOU DUMB FUCKING NERD” and so the kids all got ready to fight, because OF COURSE they’re gonna fight. Sorry guys, but yeah it’s happening.

Today on BnHA: Kacchan is all “what’s up Deku you look like a possessed Rorschach test, so anyway how are the new quirks coming along.” Deku is all “they’re coming along like THIS” and uses Smokescreen to try and get away. Kacchan is all “PHASE ONE COMMENCE”, and Kouda, Sero, Jirou, and Ojiro leap into the fray to shower Deku with heaps of love and violence, because this is a shounen manga and kicking someone’s ass while simultaneously proclaiming your undying admiration for them is just how it’s done in these parts. The KoudaSeroOJirou squad then passes the baton to Satou, Momo, Tokoyami, Kaminari, and Shouji, who are all “fuck this mask” and do a bunch of stuff to tear Deku’s mask off because they’re the real heroes. Shouto is all “LOOK AT THE LITTLE CRYBABY, THAT’S RIGHT, GO AHEAD AND FUCKING CRY and by the way let us share your burden please,” and once again I swear this is all very deeply moving and touching within the actual context. The chapter ends with Tsuyu being all “look at me. I’m the cliffhanger now,” and damn.

lol what

I don’t think anyone was expecting that. I mean, not that I’ve got anything against Tsuyu or anything. anyways it’s a very nice cover and I love the colors and I hope this means Tsuyu’s gonna do something badass

also, “Deku vs Class A” -- pretty much the expected title, but it’s still got me hyped nonetheless fuck yeah let’s go

IIDA ANGST

Iida Tenya really said “fuck the uniform code, we’re leaving the helmet at home today.” sorry kids, prim and proper C-3PO Comic Relief Iida has left the building. can I interest you in some Serious Iida

meanwhile Kacchan is all “sup Deku, I heard you got a few more quirks, and might I just add that you look like the Snyder Cut of Detective Pikachu”

“you look like a tarred and feathered squid” okay easy there Kacchan. I mean it’s all true of course, but still

“thank you all for coming” OH EXCUSE ME SON, WERE YOU PLANNING ON GOING SOMEWHERE. LET’S JUST SEE HOW THAT PLAYS OUT

yep and there’s Smokescreen, right on cue

okay Horikoshi, I leave it in your hands. hopefully you can come up with some more interesting combos than my dumbass predictions lol

LOL THIS ISN’T A COMBO AT ALL

“explosions solve everything” -- Horikoshi Kouhei, 2021. something something shockwave, something something handwave ta-da no more smoke. lol okay then

oh, ouch

he would know, wouldn’t he. nice application of one of your many hard-earned life lessons, Kacchan

by the way you guys, just as an experiment, I’m going to try to anticipate some of the discourse this week in the hopes of preemptively addressing it and thus saving myself some time later on lol. so here’s our first test run!

ANTICIPATED DISCOURSE: “oh my god what a fucking hypocrite can you believe this fucking guy”

PREEMPTIVE REBUTTAL: it’s precisely because Kacchan has been in this exact situation himself that he’s able to recognize his past self in Deku now and call him out on it. just because it took him sixteen years to get it through his head that he can’t accomplish every single thing completely by himself doesn’t mean Deku has to go down that same path. so yeah, maybe it is a bit hypocritical, but if you insist that the only people qualified to call out stupid shit are people who have never done a single stupid thing in their own lives, then what you’re basically saying is that absolutely no one on earth is qualified lol. so yeah, I’d have to disagree

and one last unrelated note, I’m willing to bet the whole “you didn’t even say a word before you ran off” thing is possibly the first thing Kacchan’s said in this whole encounter that actually does stem from genuine hurt rather than his tough-love-harsh-truths strategy. I’M TAKING NOTES HERE HORIKOSHI. at this rate it’ll take twice as many chapters as DvK2 for them to hash out all the stuff between them, geez

anyway so I gotta say, so far Deku vs. Class A is looking an awful lot like a DvK3 wearing a hat, trenchcoat, and sunglasses lol

OH SHIT I TAKE IT BACK??

FUCK YEAH, YOU GO KOUDA. and I guess he ditched his mask as well! excellent

so far the strategy here seems to be “Kacchan says all the mean tough love shit while the rest of 1-A balances it out with warmth and kindness”, which actually works pretty well imo. Deku is one of those people that doesn’t usually need a Kacchan Translator anyway, but just in case, this is very efficient

mm but of course Deku is slingshotting himself away with Blackwhip. all right then, who’s up next!

FUCK YEAH

okay but seriously you guys, what is going on with Sero’s face in these last couple of chapters though, it’s really starting to unnerve me. is he trying to emulate Kacchan’s whole asymmetrical facial expressions thing?

in fact let me just quickly hit pause here because,

ANTICIPATED DISCOURSE: “SERO IS TOGA??!”

PREEMPTIVE REBUTTAL: no

oh snap looks like Jirou’s getting in on the action too!

poor Jirou probably spent days racking her brain trying to think of something she could bond with Deku over. is Horikoshi doing these in reverse order of the kids who have had the most interaction with him? that would explain why poor Kouda didn’t get a flashback lol

omg. well that answers that

so by my count, Satou and Hagakure are the only ones remaining in this first tier of kids who Still Appreciate Midoriya even though they’ve barely ever spoken two words to him in their lives lol. so they’ll probably be next, and then we’ll get to the next tier of kids who are pretty good friends with him but not quite besties. and then we’ll move on to the IidaRokiRaka trio, and then lastly, to the boy who is in a tier all his own

BUT FIRST, A WORD FROM OUR SPONSOR

and by “sponsor” I mean the Dekuangst. just in case that wasn’t clear. indeed, many thanks to the Dekuangst for making this all possible

(ETA: okay so this whole “take me away” line seemed pretty weird to me, and sure enough it’s yet another one of those cases where only the verb is specified, and the object is left to the reader’s interpretation. so even though the translation says “take me away”, I’m pretty sure that what Deku’s actually saying is “take you away” -- as in, his loved ones will be taken away by AFO.

and that is literally the way he phrases it, though -- the verb used is “奪う” (ubau), meaning “to snatch away; to dispossess; to steal.” which, god, that hurts my whole goddamn heart though, because for him to say it like that?? not “AFO will kill you”, but “AFO will take you away from me.” he can’t have nice things anymore because of AFO. he can’t be around the people he loves because AFO will hurt them. he can’t have happiness because AFO will take it away from him. anyway so where the fuck is AFO right now, motherfucker I just want to talk.)

by the way can Ojiro just extend his tail to whatever fucking length he wants or what because it’s like twelve feet long in this panel lol

WOOO FUCK YEAH TOKOYAMI

YOU LOVE TO SEE IT!! BUT WHERE’S YOUR FLASHBACK? YOU’VE HAD A BUNCH OF INTERACTIONS WITH HIM, THAT’S NOT FAIR

okay so now Satou’s stepping in which is back to my anticipated order, so maybe Toko will finish his little moment afterward

dskfjfkk

“REMEMBER THAT TIME DEKU BORROWED SATOU’S FOOD COLORING” Horikoshi says, sweating. “AND REMEMBER THAT TIME HE, UM, SMILED IN HAGAKURE’S GENERAL DIRECTION”

actually I am curious about what Hagakure’s part will be because, you know, the whole traitor thing lol

(ETA: funny how we just skipped right over it huh. can we get a traitor reveal countdown started here? definitely getting close to that time.)

whoa lol wtf

MOMO??? THIS HAS MOMO WRITTEN ALL OVER IT DAMMIT

-- SWEET MOTHER OF FUCK

“SORRY MIDORIYA-SAN, I LEFT MY FUCKING CHILL AT HOME IN THE LOCKER NEXT TO IIDA’S HELMET” holy shit lmao

and here I thought she’d get a flashback to her time on the Baku Rescue Squad or something. but nope, no flashbacks from Momo, only terrifying sci-fi torture devices

poor Dark Shadow is such a trooper omg

“why am I the only one who has to make prolonged contact with his smelly disgusting self” taking one for the team there DS

FUCK YEAH KAMINARI NO JUTSU

THE PRICKLY BASTARD WHISPERER STRIKES AGAIN!! don’t suppose you brought any clean clothes you could sneakily force him into huh Kami

okay here we go, so now Shouji and Tokoyami are joining forces

um excuse me this is fucking awesome

wonder how he’ll break free? don’t think he’ll reveal Fa Jin until the end of the chapter, so maybe Air Force or something? idk

TOKO GETS AN EXTENDED MOMENT BECAUSE HE IS A TIER TWO PATREON REWARD LEVEL FRIEND YAY

WHY IS MOMO MAKING THIS FACE LOL YOUR THING WAS WAY WORSE

and Shouji just casually hitting him with what is easily the best comment from anyone yet. too bad Deku’s just gonna ignore it. you deserve better Shouji

KAMINARI OMFG

it only just occurred to me that Kami is currently trapped inside Dark Shadow right along with him lmao omg. realest one in the entirety of BnHA, right here. we will never forget your sacrifice

aaaaaaand Deku’s yeeting himself

do you really hate the thought of taking a bath that much my dude

oh shit the mask!!

-- oh shit the feels

o(TヘTo)

fuck. and I mean, we knew he was crying, that was a done deal. but still, to see him in this much pain is just...

and the acknowledgement that he knows they’re worried about him, but that it doesn’t change his mind one bit. this, right here, is why they have to be a bit harsh with him, you guys. because they’re up against the full, unbridled stubbornness of Midoriya fucking Izuku, and if they don’t match that stubbornness with an equal stubbornness of their own, they basically don’t stand a chance

(ETA: quick note that there is apparently another mistranslation here -- rather than saying that his friends are oblivious to the danger, what Deku is actually saying is that none of his friends have activated his Danger Sense once throughout this entire fight. which I had been wondering about, and it turns out Horikoshi actually confirmed it. so basically none of the kids bears any ill intent toward him, and there’s literal proof right there.

incidentally, as @class1akids​ pointed out, this also casts an interesting light on this chapter in terms of who hasn’t fought Deku yet. not to play the Hagakure Traitor Music for the billionth time you guys, but I’M JUST SAYING lol.)

anyway, but the good news is that they all seem to understand that. and the even better news is that we have reached the tier 3 friends!!

“OR ELSE” lol, great to see Shouto wielding his friendship just as aggressively as Deku once did towards him. I do love a good role reversal

p.s., ANTICIPATED DISCOURSE: “why is Shouto being so cruel to Deku can’t he see how hard this is on him”

PREEMPTIVE REBUTTAL: this is a callback to the classic “even heroes cry when they have to” Shouto line from chapter 137. Shouto is clearly following Kacchan’s lead here and going for the more ruthless approach, knowing that the gentle approach isn’t getting through to him (if anything it’s only making him more stubborn as we saw on the previous page). basically it’s his way of pointing out that even heroes are still only human, and so is Deku last time he checked

ah okay, and there Tsuyu is at last

okay real talk, I get why Tsuyu is included in the tier 3 friends, because she was one of the first people to team up with Deku going all the way back to USJ. but that said, this probably would have had more impact if their most recent interaction hadn’t been like 150 chapters ago

but anyway though it’s still a good speech. maybe not quite a cliffhanger-level speech, but a good speech nonetheless. in a way though, I’m glad to see that Horikoshi seemingly didn’t give a fuck whether he ended this on an actual cliffhanger or not for once

and that “headed toward the climax” part has me excited too, ngl. because if we really are getting to the so-called climax this soon, that makes me even more certain that there is indeed a DvK3 in the forecast. so I presume that next week (or I guess two weeks from now) will be the tier 3s along with the remaining tier 2s like Kirishima and Aoyama

and then after that, well... [orange and green banners being hoisted] [sound of screeching airhorns and vuvuzelas in the distance] [sound of All Might approaching in his car which I didn’t notice until I looked back at this page a second time whoops] THE PROPHECY WILL NOT BE DENIED

[justauthoring]

Then, The Moment Came

Prompt: It just never was the right time. Not then, not later, until it suddenly is and everything’s... different. Requested by: no one.

A/N: The Atsumu debut on my account has finally happened. And yes, this is very loosely, loosely based off of A Silent Voice because I literally cannot get it out of my head. Oh, and I love soulmates au’s. Pairing: Atsumu Miya x F!Reader

A hard shove to your shoulders sends you to the ground with a huff, pain radiating through your being as you huff.

There’s jeering laughs that echo, hurtful enough that you don’t say anything, don’t try to stand up for yourself -- instead, you keep your head down, hair falling into your eyes as you bite your lips to fight back the tears that threaten to fall. 

It’s not even the shove, or the pain that follows, that has tears welling. 

They hurt so much less then...

“You’re just a freak,” Atsumu spits at you, “no wonder no one likes you.”

Atsumu Miya, ten years old, and he absolutely hates you. Why, you have absolutely no idea. It’s been like this ever since you moved into the house across the street from him, walked into his class that one fateful day, and introduced yourself. 

You’d felt his glare on your back as you took the seat in front of him, and when you’d turned to face him, a harsh kick at the leg of your chair had you freezing in surprise.

You’d never spoken to him. Never directly. But after school that first day, he’d found you on your way home, tripped you so hard you skinned your knee, and laughed as he walked off. 

Then, just as he went to turn, his twin beside him, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else; Atsumu had turned to you, a glint in his eyes. “You’re just a freak. No wonder no one likes you.”

It just never really ended after that.

But when you got home that day, brushing your mothers concerned hands away as she reached for your knee, you’d sat on your bed and looked at your arm only to see those exact same words.

Those cruel, cruel words, and wondered, how unlucky you must be to have a soulmate that hates you.

-

“Do you want to go to the game tonight?”

You blink, pulled from your thoughts at the sound of Misaki’s words. With a drawl, lips pulled downwards, you turn to her with a quirked brow. “No.” You say simply, shaking your head.

“Come on,” she huffs, head falling into the palms of her hands with a huff, “you never want to go to anything.”

You sigh. “That’s not true. I let you drag me lots of places.”

“You do not.”

“I do too.”

She pouts at you, lips pursed, eyes set into a teasing glare as she takes another bite out of her lunch. “Our volleyball team is supposed to be so good, though,” she whines, trying to appear nonchalant (though very much failing), as she lets her eyes wander on anything but you. “One of the best, actually. They make it to nationals every year and--”

“And they have their own cheer squad,” you cut in, “good for them.”

“Y/N.”

“What?”

She just glares at you.

“If you want to go so bad, take one of your other friends,” you shrug, brushing her off. “I’m not your only friend.”

“Yes, but you’re my best friend,” she smiles, sickly sweet, all bright eyed and twinkling and you sigh, once again, at the look she sends you. “And I only want to go with you.”

Staring at her for a moment, you laugh; “you’re good.”

And her eyes brighten, hope flooding them; “you’ll go, then?”

“I never said that.” She deflates, “but... sure.”

“Eeee~!” She jumps to a stand, reaching across the table to grab your hands, shaking them with a bright laugh. “Yes, yes, yes! You won’t regret this, Y/N/N, we’re going to have so much fun!”

I’m sure, you can’t help but think. It’ll be so fun to watch him show off.

And even though you don’t say it aloud, Misaki seems to just know.

“Atsumu-san will be there too.”

“He is apart of the team.”

“Maybe you could even try to--”

“He doesn’t want to talk to me,” you cut in, voice sharp, maybe a little more sharp then you mean to be. At the look Misaki sends you, you frown at the guilt that floods you, the hurt look in her eyes, before softening your voice. “Atsumu hates me, Saki. I’ve told you this.”

“But-But that was when you were kids--!”

“And he hasn’t talked to me since.”

Her shoulders fall, and she doesn’t argue after that.

Inhaling deeply, you reach across the table, taking her hand in your own like she had moments ago, though gently and squeeze it softly. It pulls her eyes on you, and smiling gently, you add; “I appreciate you, Saki, and what you’re trying to do. And I love that you want me to be happy, but I don’t need my soulmate to be.”

“You say that,” she frowns, “but you hardly ever smile...”

And she says the words softly, carefully, not wanting to hurt you, but you can’t ignore the pang in your heart at her words. Your hand slips from hers as the words repeat in your mind, and you think of all those years ago, the constant, relentless, cruel teasing that you’d endured from the person that was meant to be your one and only.

You realize, Misaki’s completely right -- you weren’t happy. And it was silly to pretend that you were.

“Yeah, well,” you whisper, and it’s like ironic and cruel perfect timing that has Atsumu walking into the lunchroom at that exact moment, surrounded by his friends, laughing. He hasn’t a care in the world, head thrown back with a laugh as passing girls flock towards him.

“That doesn’t matter to him.”

-

“Damn you, Misaki.”

Huffing out the words, followed by a curse, as yet another call to your best friend is all but ignored, you grit your teeth.

Where the hell could she have gone?

One second she was right beside you, laughing and cheering as Inarizaki took an already expected win. And then you’d run to go to the bathroom for a minute, only to find the girl had absolutely disappeared on you. Seriously, she was no where. And it didn’t help that the gym was absolutely flooded with other people that you couldn’t properly see anyone.

“I swear to Kami, Misaki, when I find--”

“--Are you okay?”

You freeze. 

No. Please, anyone but him.

A hand falls on your shoulder, spinning you round and of course, it is him; Atsumu Miya in all his glory, smiling down at you. And then, as you meet his gaze, his own falters, and his brows furrow and the next words that leave his lips sting more then they probably should.

“Y/N? Y/L/N Y/N?” He laughs, shaking his head, “I didn’t know you went to Inarizaki.”

Yeah, ouch.

You’ve only been in the same school as him since literally elementary.

But apparently, after he got bored of bullying you, he also got bored of acknowledging your presence at all.

You don’t say anything, you can’t. Words feel like they’re lodged at the back of your throat, and it suddenly feels like you can’t breathe. All the people feel like too much all of a sudden, and you’re desperate to get away. You’ll apologize to Misaki later, but you need to leave. You turn, moving to run off, because you just want to get out of there, but then, he reaches for you and--

“Don’t touch me!”

People stop, pausing for a moment at your booming voice, all eyes on you as Atsumu pulls back like you’ve physically slapped him, shock clear on his face.

And then you turn, once more, and walk off before he can say anything else.

You don’t see the frown on his face, don’t see the way he glances down at his arm, nor the realization that dawns on him then and there.

-

“You just left me.”

“Technically you left me first.”

“Suna-kun wanted to talk to me.”

“Then, it’s your fault.”

“How is it my fault?”

Pausing, you turn to Misaki; “I sent you a text.”

She blinks at you. “I thought you’d been kidnapped! Or worse, killed!”

“Now, you’re being dramatic.”

“Y/N/N!”

Pausing by your locker, you turn to her; “I’m sorry, I just... I had to get--”

“Y/N!”

What in the world--

“Is that--”

“I know who it is, Saki.”

“Okay,” she breathes, “why is he walking our way? Why is he calling for you?”

“I don’t know!” You stress, turning to her with wide, panicked eyes. “Hide me!”

“How in the world am I--”

“Y/N,” Atsumu smiles, finally reaching you.

You freeze.

Misaki stares at you, then Atsumu, then, with a light nudge, turns; “w-well,” she laughs, “I should really get going. Have fun, you two!” And she promptly ignores the absolutely terrified look you send her.

You’re so going to kill her.

Later. Definitely later, when you manage to escape Atsumu, somehow, yet again--

“I’m so glad I found you.”

Turning to him, you swallow thickly.

“I tried to find you yesterday, but I couldn’t and I got scared that--”

“What do you want.”

You’re blunt, more blunt then you mean to be. But you don’t want this mindless chatter, whatever it means, and you’re absolutely desperate to get away that you don’t even care if talking like that makes him mad. You used to deal with it as a kid all the time anyways, so...

“Well, I just wanted to catch up,” he laughs, lightly, a little too airy. Is he... nervous? “We haven’t talked since we were kids, so--”

“You mean when you used to bully me?”

You have no idea where this confidence is coming from.

“I’d hardly call it bullying--”

“I used to come home in bruises because of you,” you whisper, avoiding his gaze as you hug yourself. You’re uncomfortable. You want to leave, you need to leave. “Anyways, it doesn’t matter. I have to--”

He grabs you, your entire body going cold at the feeling of his fingers wrapping around your arm. On one hand, it’s like you can feel... this electric shiver run through your entire being and you figure it’s because of this supposed connection the two of you are supposed to have. But on the other hand, it fills you with such terror, that you almost want to cry.

“I didn’t know.”

But his words makes all that go away, and instead you’re just confused.

“What?”

“I didn’t know that we were... you know.”

Blinking, you finally meet his gaze head on. “How could you have not known?”

“You... You never said anything.”

Shaking your head, you rip your arm from his grasp. “That day, when I introduced myself--”

“You weren’t talking to me,” he argues, “not directly, at least. And you were always so quiet when I’d...-- But then, yesterday, when I grabbed you, well--” He holds his hand out towards you, and sure enough the words written on his arm are:

don’t touch me!

So, apparently he never did know.

It doesn’t change anything. How could it?

Him not knowing doesn’t excuse bullying you. Doesn’t erase everything he did.

It could never.

“What to know what my words are?” Practically yanking the sleeve of your sweater up your arm, you thrust it towards Atsumu, gaze harsh. And his eyes slowly flicker downwards, frowning as he reads the words.

You’re just a freak. No wonder no one likes you.

And the stupid guilty look on his face pisses you off even more.

“I want nothing to do with you,” you spit, “so just leave me alone.”

-

What the hell is Atsumu Miya doing at your front door.

“I was hoping you still lived here.”

Pausing, you sigh. “You don’t give up do you?”

Grinning, Atsumu rubs the back of his neck, “unfortunately not.”

Sighing, you let your hand fall on your hip, tilting your head to the side curiously. “So what, you know I’m your soulmate now and you want to walk me to school?”

There’s a nervous smile on his face, one that seems odd on him, as he laughs lightly. “Yeah?”

Rolling your eyes, you brush past him, “whatever.”

But he follows, and you don’t argue.

-

“Let me grab those for you!”

With a blink, the stack of textbooks in your hands is suddenly gone and in another’s. You sigh when you meet Atsumu’s familiar gaze.

“You don’t have to do that, Miya-san.”

“I want to,” he shrugs simply, and you pointedly ignore Misaki’s laugh from beside you. “And, it’s Atsumu.”

“What?”

He meets your eyes, smiling; “call me Atsumu.”

Misaki nudges you with her elbow, pulling your gaze on her momentarily as she grins brightly. Sighing, you turn back to Atsumu, watching as he gently places the textbooks down in the locker you’d just opened. Turning to walk off with a grin, clearly proud of himself.

“Thank you, Miya-san.”

“Atsumu!” He calls over his shoulder.

“Well,” Misaki adds after a moment, “that was sweet~!”

Rolling your eyes, you shake your head. “Yeah, yeah.”

-

“I would like you to come to my game.”

Staring up at Atsumu, you blink.

“Please.”

Licking your lips, clasp your hands together behind your back; “won’t I be an embarrassment?”

“No.” And he says it quickly, barely letting you finish your sentence, adamantly shaking his head. “No, you could never.”

I used to be.

But you don’t say that.

“Okay,” you heed, hating the butterflies that flood your stomach at the bright grin that curls onto his lips. “I’ll think about it.”

“Yes!”

-

“Congratulations on the win, Atsumu-san.”

“Y/N/N, you came!”

It’s hard to fight back the blush that threatens to grow on your cheeks at the smile he sends you. Hard to ignore the way your heart flutters as he calls you by that stupid nickname that he’d picked up from Misaki. And hard to forget the way everything screams in you for him at the way his eyes sparkle as he looks down at you.

“Misaki dragged me,” you gesture behind yourself where you know your friend is, shaking your head at the bright grin she sends the two of you.

“Still,” he nods, eyes softening as he looks down at you; “you came.”

“Yes, well,” tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, suddenly feeling nervous, you shuffle on your feet. “I should be going now. Congratulations again on the--”

You don’t make it two steps before he’s wrapped a hand around your wrist, tugged you into him and slipped the other around your waist. You’re flush against him, a huff of surprise leaves your lips as you blink up at the boy, trying to ignore the way it feels like your body has ignited with electricity at just the simple touch of him.

And then his fingers are ghosting across your cheek, brushing back loose hair, and pulling your gaze solely on him, where you can’t seem to look away as everything just... fades away. The crowded gym suddenly feels empty, and everything is quiet as you stare up at him.

You also note that you feel at ease at his touch.

“I never said sorry.”

Lips parting, you swallow thickly; “it’s okay--”

“No, it isn’t,” he whispers, resting his forehead against your own, and it feels like you might melt right there at the feeling of his warm breath on you. “None of what I did was okay.”

“Atsumu...”

“I’m so sorry...”

You relax in his touch, hands moving to fall on his shoulders, where you squeeze, eyes falling to his lips before flickering back up to his own.

“It’s okay...”

“...I want to kiss you,” he whispers, voice gentle, nervous. “Is that okay?”

You nod, feeling the words slip out all on their own; “please.”

And he obliges and suddenly everything just makes sense, just works, and all that gushing Misaki used to go on about about how wonderful soulmates are you completely agree with. Having Atsumu so close, having his warm touch on you, having his lips molding against your own, barely a breaths away, feels so incredibly amazing and right that you wonder how you’d ever existed without him.

He makes up for it all then. None of it matters any more, not the teasing, not the pushing and shoving, nor the tears that would follow.

It’s all worth it for this one moment now.

-

a little ooc? maybe?

whoops.

[emeraldiis]

Tied Hands Can’t Kill

A/N: welp, it’s finally here! Part two of Enough Trust for Us Both, enjoy!!

AO3 Link

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Summary:  Bucky watches you, hungry eyes glued to your glistening fingers when you pull them out. His tongue comes out to drag across his lips, and you know what he wants.

Bucky’s afraid of hurting you, so you cuff him during sex. That’s pretty much the summary

Tonight’s date night. You have lots of fun things prepared: a nice dinner, a movie, several bottles of fine wine, and a shiny pair of vibranium handcuffs. The cuffs are out of sight, resting in your nightstand, but you still feel like they’re mocking you as you stir the spaghetti on the stove. Bucky’s out, meeting with Stark about some complicated feud with another country that you didn’t understand, and you’re anxiously awaiting his return. The noodles probably didn’t need to be stirred that much, but you need to keep busy. You have to keep your mind off of tonight if you want to make it through dinner.

You’re just setting out the plates as Bucky walks in. You’re greeted with a bear hug that nearly topples you over, and you manage to squeak out a warning before Bucky sends the tableware crashing to the ground.

Bucky steps back and holds you at arm's length, eyes softening as he gazes lovingly at you. “Sorry, doll. I missed you.”

You melt. A warm smile trickles across your face and you sigh happily. “I missed you, too. You hungry? I made pasta.”

As he inhales deeply, taking in the rich scent of your cooking, Bucky nearly starts drooling. “I’m starving,” he moans, making a beeline for the pot on the stove. You watch him go, rolling your eyes. Looks like you didn’t need to worry about filling his plate. With a shrug, you serve yourself, too.

Dinner is as good as you’d hoped it’d be. Bucky barely has time to breathe with how quickly he shovels food down his throat, mumbling compliments through a full mouth. You don’t mind his iffy manners; if he likes your cooking that much, then you’d let eat however he wanted. Even if that meant feeling like you were sitting across from a dog with a steak.

The wine disappears just as quickly as the food. You limit yourself to a few glasses, wanting a clear head for the night’s events, but Bucky does no such thing. Having an enhanced tolerance was both a blessing and a curse, you thought to yourself. On one hand, he could have as many glasses he wanted without worrying about getting a bit too tipsy, but on the other...you’ve seen him rack up one hell of a tab at a bar.

Finally sated, Bucky leans back in his chair and shoots you a grin. “Doll, I think I missed your cookin’ more than I missed you,” he teases.

A giggle bubbles up from your stomach. “I guess I’ll have to start ordering take out. Maybe it’ll make you appreciate me a bit more.”

“No,” Bucky whines, lips falling into a pout. “I take it back, I’m sure you’re better tasting than anything you can whip up in the kitchen.”

There it is again, that flirty side that you rarely get to witness. You try to encourage him, wanting more of that wicked mouth. “How about you see for yourself?” You pause, gauging Bucky’s reaction. When he holds your stare instead of looking away, you know you’re okay to keep going. “I, I have the cuffs.” Your face burns when Bucky’s eyes widen, like he hadn’t been expecting you to follow through on your promise. “You know, for later. If you want.” Your voice has lowered into something only a bit louder than a whisper, and you can feel yourself losing your nerve.

“Can we,” Bucky starts, pausing to swallow thickly. “Can we skip the movie?”

Your heart jumps, then picks back up its pounding rhythm. You can hear the blood rushing in your ears, can feel it drain all the way down to your stomach, and then between your legs. “Yeah, yeah we can do that.” Your voice sounds foreign, strange, through your ringing ears. You take another sip of wine, hoping to ease the anxiety. Nervousness swirls with excitement through your stomach. This is what you want, what you’ve been waiting for all these months, but now that it’s here? The butterflies feel like they have knives.

When he realizes that you’re frozen in place, Bucky stands, and makes it way over to you. You can tell that he’s half-hard in his black jeans, and your mouth starts to water. You swallow hard before rising from your chair and trying to step past Bucky, towards the hallway. He places a big hand on your shoulder, and you freeze again.

“Hey,” Bucky murmurs. He leans down to press his lips to the top of your head, and his breath tickles when it blows through your hair. “Breathe, baby. We don’t have to do-”

“No!” You say loudly, startling Bucky. Seeing his brow furrowed in worry, you force yourself to take a deep breath and collect yourself before continuing. “Sorry, I just...I don’t want to fuck this up. I want it to be good for both of us, so bad, and I’m scared you won’t enjoy it.”

With a stern look and a purse of his lips, Bucky gently grabs each of your arms and brings them around his neck. “Stop that,” he says, and your knees go to jelly when it comes out more as a command than a request. “Baby doll, whatever you end up doing, I promise you that I will enjoy it. I think you’re forgetting that I’ve dreamin’ about this, too.”

You look up at him with wide eyes. “And you’ll tell me if I do something you don’t like?”

Bucky’s metal fingers come up to brush a stray piece of hair out of your face, and you close your eyes when the soothing cold of the metal touches your cheek. “I promise.”

*

You don’t make it past the doorway to the bedroom before Bucky has you up against the wall, kissing the life out of you. He’s still holding back, you notice, but this is progress. His metal arm is stuffed in his back pocket, keeping it away from you, but he’s using the other to support himself on the wall beside your head, boxing you in. You moan into his mouth, and Bucky pulls back instinctively. His pupils are blown wide and he’s panting, lips parted. “I think,” he whispers. “I think we need those handcuffs now.”

You’re quick to act, ducking past him to open your nightstand drawer and snatching them from their hiding place. The metal is so cold that it almost feels sharp, and you unconsciously hold the cuffs away from your body like they’re a dangerous animal. Something glints in Bucky’s eyes when he sees the handcuffs. He chews on his bottom lips, still standing near the entrance of the room. Deciding that he needs some...encouragement, you make a show of crawling onto the bed, making sure your skirt comes up just enough to reveal your black panties.

A growl sounds from behind you, and the bed dips as Bucky clambers on. He wastes no time in pushing past you, lying down and sliding to the headboard, putting his arms above his head obediently. “Someone’s eager, huh?” You laugh, scooting to the side of the bed to give Bucky more room.

Bucky narrows his eyes. “Don’t play dumb. You’re over here shaking that cute little ass in my face, how’s a man expected to resist that?” He wiggles his arms impatiently. “C’mon, sweet thing.” Now it’s you who needs encouragement. Bucky catches the uncertainty on your face and drops his arms to tug at the hem of his tight navy shirt. With a wink, he lifts the fabric up above his head, giving you an eyeful of those huge biceps and tight abs. The shirt gets tossed somewhere to the side, neither of you caring to notice where it lands.

A breath catches in your throat, and you shoot an apprehensive look to the cuffs dangling from your hand. Moving quickly before you lose your nerve, you slide over to Bucky and straddle his hips, then lean up to hook the handcuffs around his wrists. All the while, you keep a close eye on Bucky’s expression, watching for any sign of discomfort. You know that he probably has some pretty traumatic memories associated with being restrained; triggering those is the last thing you want to do.

To your relief, Bucky’s face stays open and trusting. He watches you with a rapt look, eyes lidded in arousal as you click the cuffs around the wooden headboard. “Don’t break my bed,” you with as stern of a voice as you can muster. Bucky bites his lip against what you just know is going to be some teasing remark. You stick your tongue out at him and sit back on your haunches, admiring your handiwork.

Bucky looks absolutely gorgeous. His arms are stretched up above him, and in his human arm the muscles ripple and bulge as he shifts. The look on his face is what kills you, though. He looks wrecked, lips bitten red and face flushed with a pretty shade of pink. You lean down to kiss him gently, grinning to yourself when he tries and fails to arch up and deepen the kiss. “Oh, baby. We haven’t even started and you’re already…” you trail off with a breathy sigh of adoration.

“Shut up,” Bucky shoots back, turning his head to the side as much as he can to avoid your gaze. “I-it’s been a while since I’ve, y’know.”

You immediately feel bad for teasing him. Wanting to kiss the frown off of Bucky’s lips, you place your fingers on the side of his jaw to turn his face back towards you. When he shivers, you trail a fingertip down his face, scratching a bit at the dark stubble there. Bucky trembles again, and you immediately press your mouth to his. Something in that kiss seems to set him off, because he wastes no time straining against his bonds and licking his way past your lips.

You moan around his tongue as it strokes yours. Now this is a proper kiss, nothing like those gentle pecks you had gotten so used to. Fireworks explode behind your eyelids when they fall shut, and everything in you wants to uncuff Bucky, to feel those strong hands grip your hips and pull you onto his cock. Your pussy clenches around nothing at the thought as your patience dissipates.

Reluctantly breaking away from the kiss, you slide down Bucky’s body until you reach the hem of his jeans. Your eyes flick back up to Bucky’s to silently ask for permission. He nods and blushes. Shaking fingers reach for the button, and although it takes you a few tries, you eventually manage to undo it. The sound of Bucky’s zipper being pulled down is deafening in the quiet room. Bucky sighs in relief as you relieve the pressure on his erection, and you nearly groan out loud at seeing the bulge in his dark red briefs. A loud clink startles you out of your daze, and you realize that Bucky’s straining against the cuffs, looking at you with desperation. “Please, doll. I’m done waiting.”

You can’t help but take pity on your squirming boyfriend. With a coy grin, you slide Bucky’s briefs down his legs and lower your head until his leaking cock is nearly brushing your lips. Bucky whines at you, and you flick your tongue out to catch the drop of precum beading at the tip. The reaction you get is explosive. Bucky cries out and arches up towards your mouth, metal arm whirring loudly as he struggles against his bonds. You place a hand on his hip to soothe him, but also as a warning to settle down before he works himself up too much.

Wide eyes meet yours, and then they close while Bucky takes deep breaths. He forces himself to relax against the pillows, jaw clenched. “Sorry,” he half-whispers. His voice sounds wrecked already. “‘M bein’ good. Can you...?”

It’s impossible to resist; Bucky’s so submissive, so willing to please you, and it’s driving you crazy. Taking a breath, you dive down to suck him into your mouth, fighting back a smile when his hips jerk under your hand. Fortunately, Bucky seems to have gotten a handle on himself. Muscles tense, he manages to keep from choking you as you let your jaw adjust to the stretch.

You breathe through your nose, sinking lower until you’re almost nestled against his stomach, then pull back, dragging your tongue along the bottom ridge. That earns you a soft curse, so you repeat the motion, soon getting into a steady rhythm that has Bucky groaning and pleading for more. Just once, you overestimate your abilities and have to fight back a gag, but that only seems to arouse Bucky further. You begin to swirl your tongue around the head on the upstrokes, and it isn’t long before Bucky’s pulsing in your mouth, ready to spend down your throat. “S-stop, fuck, stop,” Bucky whimpers. “Don’t wanna cum yet.” Despite his protests, Bucky’s hips twitch again and again in little aborted thrusts.

As much as you want Bucky’s cum dripping down your throat, you back off, wiping at your mouth with the back of your hand. “You ready?” You ask, already unzipping your skirt and pulling it off along with your dripping panties. You’re more than ready, so wet that you doubt you’ll need any preparation. Still, you lean back and dip two fingers into yourself just to check.

Bucky watches you, hungry eyes glued to your glistening fingers when you pull them out. His tongue comes out to drag across his lips, and you know what he wants. Feeling a bit shy, but wanting to drive Bucky even wilder than you already have, you slowly reach out your hand until your fingers are hovering in front of Bucky’s face; an invitation. One that he graciously accepts, eagerly taking your fingers into his mouth. Bucky’s eyes nearly roll back as he tastes you, soft tongue lapping at your skin like it’s coated in a priceless wine.

“Buck,” you moan softly. “Lemme ride you, I wanna cum on your cock.” Your eager hands are frantic, undoing the stubborn buttons of your blouse as fast as you can manage. Bucky instinctively moves to help you, growling when the cuffs halt his movement. You feel dizzy with power, head swimming as you look down at Bucky. You could do anything to him, and for a moment you’re overwhelmed by the realization that he would let you. All you want to do is make him feel good.

You slide the blouse off of your shoulders--Bucky’s eyes nearly bug out of his head when he sees that you’re braless--and bring your trembling fingers to caress the scruff at Bucky’s jaw. He leans into your touch, and you’re not sure which one of you is shaking worse. “Can I make you feel good now, baby?” You ask, voice a raspy drawl that sounds foreign to your ears. Bucky barely has the chance to nod before you start to kiss up his neck. Whatever response he had planned dies on the tip of his tongue as you drag yours across his skin.

Oh-so carefully, you reach under you to grasp Bucky’s throbbing cock and guide it to your soaked entrance. The second the head makes contact with your pussy, Bucky gasps wildly and jerks his hips up. He slips from your grasp as he manages to slip into your sex with little resistance. Your core clenches around the stretch and you moan raggedly. Fuck, he feels amazing. Thick and long and hitting every single spot that makes your toes curl.

You collapse onto Bucky’s chest with a whimper, trying your hardest to adjust to his size. Bucky nuzzles into your hair and murmurs words of encouragement, choked out praises. When your body stops feeling like it’s about to burst into flames, you brace your hands on either side of Bucky’s head and raise yourself up off of his hips. When you slide back down, both of you groan. You lift up again, and before you can make another move, Bucky shakes his head.

“Stay right there, doll. Keep those hips up for me,” he growls, and you don’t dare disobey. “I’m gonna wreck you, honey.” You’ve completely lost the upper hand; what dominance you may have had vanished the instant Bucky gave you an order.

You nearly bite through your lip when Bucky starts pistoning into you from below, each thrust knocking the wind out of you. He doesn’t start out slow, years of celibacy making him feral and desperate. You want to kiss him, grab his hair, something, but you’re frozen in place, helpless. Bucky snaps his hips into your ass with inhuman speed, and the obscene smacks of skin against skin sound like thunderclaps. It’s nothing compared to the sounds that fall from Bucky’s lips, though.

“Fuck, baby. Love how that p-pussy’s gripping me so tight.” Growls and groans interrupt his filthy praise, but it only makes him sound sexier. Gasps tear from your throat with every breath, and your eyes roll back. “Yeah, you fucking love it, don’t you? Look at you, taking my cock so good. You’re mine. ”

The more Bucky talks, the closer you creep to the edge. You can feel it in your stomach, coiling tight and hot. “Bucky, I’m, I’m gonna-”

“Oh, god. Cum on me, baby doll. I, ah, I wanna feel it.” Bucky’s hair is sweat slicked, sticking to his face. His brows are knitted tight together, betraying his confidence. You feel his hips stuttering, then look down at those cloudy eyes and know he’s close, too. The cuffs rattle and the headboard creaks, and that’s what does you in. Knowing that Bucky is bound, and he is still the one absolutely ruining you for anyone else.

A cry of “Bucky!” escapes your mouth as your head snaps back. Your entire body goes rigid as you climax, pleasure rippling across your nerves like tiny atom bombs. Bucky keens as he feels you clamp around him, and fights to keep his hips moving to work you through your orgasm. It’s too much, though, and he sobs your name as he spills inside of you, going slack against the cuffs.

Your shaking thighs finally give out, and you sag against Bucky. As both of you attempt to catch your breath, euphoria settles over you like a cool blanket. It was about fucking time. With how Bucky just fucked you within an inch of your life, you decide that it was worth the wait. Still, you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t tease Bucky just a bit. “I think if that headboard can survive being assaulted like that, I’ll be just fine,” you say, voice still unsteady.

Bucky snorts. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” He wiggles his arms. “Can you get me out of these, though? I wanna hold my doll after making love to her.”

Your cheeks flush, but you roll off of Bucky to retrieve the key from your nightstand. With some fiddling, you unlock the handcuffs and set Bucky free. He stretches, loosening his stiff muscles, then pulls you back to his solid chest, stroking your tangled hair. “Thank you,” he whispers so softly that you aren’t sure if he actually said anything.

“Anything for you,” you reply just as quietly. You shift a bit to get more comfortable, and hear a crack. “Please tell me that wasn’t the headboard.”

Bucky glances up, then pats your head reassuringly. “It wasn’t the headboard.”

“Then what was it?”

“It was definitely the headboard.”

[undermattsun-archive]

taste

(skate rat) kawanishi taichi x fem!reader | w.c 3.5k

a/n: SURPRISE it’s a sequel to mouth <3 my original skate rat sin i suppose, and also like my first real fic/drab for the fandom. god bless. as always thank u to @bakatenshii​ + @sugardaddykenma​ for putting up with me ranting about this fic (and also putting up with me since mouth)

big big thanku to #1 wife @pomsuki​ for reading this for me and yelling at me to finish this damn thing <3

18+ university age | pls read ALL warnings

warnings: drugs, public sex, dub/noncon exhibitionism, degredation, humiliation, dubcon, blood, slight injury (it’s a bloody nose), toxic behavior, misogynistic energy? vibes? you’ll know when u see it honestly

reading mouth isn’t necessary but it is appreciated! and pls check out melt + nightingale syndrome for they exist in the same skate rat universe (+ they’re delicious fics) also the people who wrote em r BIG SEXY

There were more than enough reasons to quit Kunimi Akira. He never texts back, he doesn’t go to class, he’s fucked a few of your friends and he couldn’t commit if you paid him. He was simply a waste of time, it was like every second spent with him was another mark ticked off a test, a percentile lowering on your next paper.

But chucking Kunimi would be like trying to sort grains of rice, difficult and damn near impossible. He always knew how to draw you back in and he enjoyed the mind games a lot more than his bored expression would let on. 

Despite the impossibility of quitting him you had to at least try, so you swore up and down that hooking up with him at Oikawa’s party some odd months ago was truly the last of it, that you were done with him and all of his irritating skate rat friends.

Which begs the question of how you ended up at the little concrete amphitheater on campus, sandwiched between Hanamaki and Matsukawa on one of the steps, a blunt being passed between the two of them without so much as a second glance towards you.

“Say, when’s the last time you and Kunimi had fun?” Makki’s grin is nothing short of lascivious, a slimy feeling weighs on your tongue as you shrug off a shudder.

“Say, was that ever any of your business?” You retort, snatching the blunt from his lips bringing it to your own and inhaling deeply, revelling at the warmth creeping down your throat and filling your chest. 

“Quit it Makki, she’s not gonna fuck you. Kunimi got her ‘round his little finger,” Mattsun coos, taking back the blunt, “besides, heard she’s a fuckin ice queen in the sack. Boooring.”

A sharp inhale keeps you grounded, the sound of Iwaizumi’s board slamming back down onto the pavement reminding you where you are, who you’re with. You’re not going to fall for Mattsun’s little games too.

“Tch.” Daggers prick at your lips, but you bite your tongue knowing that fueling the fire will earn you nothing but a headache. It’s not like you’re waiting for anything, or anyone, stealing a few more hits and leaving would be the best option.

“Oh? Nothing to say? But I heard your mouth was your only redeeming quality.” You focus your gaze on Iwaizumi telling Oikawa to stay out of his way, trying not to let your growing discomfort scare you away. The stubborn refusal of letting Mattsun’s words win only letting a dull ache grow at the base of your skull, prickling further when he and Makki let out low mocking laughs.

“Hey fucknuts!” Your head whips over to see a blur of crimson race by, followed gradually by a few other familiar faces you’ve seen around at parties and on campus.

“God, not these assholes.” Makki laughs as Oikawa makes faces at one of the newcomers. Your eyes drag across the unfolding scene as the number of rowdy idiots grows. You swallow hard, knowing that staying any longer would only cause your headache to further bloom.

“That’s my cue to leave.” You sigh, it’s not like you were waiting for Kunimi in the first place. You weren’t. You were just...killing time.

“Leaving?” Your head tips back to look up at the source of the question, Kawanishi Taichi, of course. 

“Yeah, dunno why I’m here in the first place.” You brush off his quirked brow and shove Mattsun hard with your shoulder as you stand up. With a curt nod, you smooth a hand over your jeans, turning on your heel to brush past Kawanishi, ignoring the low whistle that falls from his lips. You make it a good distance down the walkway before the sound of crunching footsteps behind you prickles at your ears as you ready yourself to tell whoever it is to get lost. 

“Want a ride?” You let out a huff as you look over your shoulder to see Kawanishi standing so nonchalantly, hands tucked into his pockets as he chews on a toothpick.

“Shouldn’t you be skating around with your little boyfriends?” The comment slips out, followed by your tongue sliding over your bottom lip as if it’ll soften the sharpness of your tone. 

“Nah, just droppin 'em off,” his eyes rake up and down your figure as you turn to face him, “where’s yours?”

“My what?”

“Your little boyfriend. You were waiting there like a lost puppy for him.” A protest rises in your chest, curbing it when you see a flash of something akin to flirtatious teasing in his normally passive eyes. 

“I... I don’t have one.” The words are slathered in honey, punctuated with a flutter of your lashes as Kawanishi takes another step forward. 

If Kunimi likes playing all those stupid games, why not play a few of your own?

“Is that so?” His head tilts slightly, you feign shyness, fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you smile sweetly at him, confirming your statement with a nod of your head. “My car’s just over in the parking lot.” He tips his head in the direction of the closest lot, before turning to start walking. Without hesitation you easily fall into step beside him, trying to dampen your rising nerves.

Despite the dumb little hookups peppering your dating history, you had only gone so far with most of them, Kunimi being one of the few —and the only one you crawled back to— that you had made the unfortunate pleasure of going all the way with. You keep pushing away at the thoughts of inexperience as Kawanishi approaches an old, beat up, black Corolla, the paint flaking off with dings and dents littering across the body, the impeccably shiny rims on the wheels making you snort. 

It was a rather famous car across campus, seeing it around with stupid skate rats crammed in there with the windows fogged with smoke was an almost daily occurrence, especially highlighted by how it’s tied to one too many stories of girls having varying encounters with Kawanishi –and sometimes one of his friends– in said car.

“Wanna smoke or skip to the real fun?” He never minced any words, always up front or just completely skipping out on the conversation. It always made him the best project partner in the odd classes you’ve shared over your uni years.

“I don’t like waiting.” The fuzziness nipping at your spine from the few hits you took earlier were just enough, not wanting to dull your senses completely during this encounter. The bluntness of your answer causes a smirk to play at Kawanishi’s lips as he opens the door to the back.

“Well then, ladies first.” He gestures to the gray cloth seats, you make a point to ignore the questionable stains littered across it as you slide in, trying to focus instead on figuring out the heady scent permeating through the car. Cheap cologne, cigarettes, weed and maybe stale beer, and something that was distinctly him. 

Your eyes are drawn to a stain on the roof that looks oddly similar to an eagle, the thought unfinished as Kawanishi practically dives in after you. The sound of the door slamming preempting hands roaming over your body and lips moving against your neck. 

“Kawa-”

“Just Taichi.” He clips as he works the buttons of your jeans, a coarse hand working against your spine as he unhooks your bra.

“Eager much?” You laugh as he pushes at your shirt and bra exposing pert nipples to cool air, simultaneously managing to work your jeans past your hips and down your thighs.

“You said no waiting.” With a chaste kiss to your lips he’s maneuvering you onto your stomach, raising your hips in the air, face shoved halfway between the seat and door.  You let out a huff as your hand braces itself against the door, while the other on the seat below you, trying to find some semblance of comfort in the cramped setting.

“Mhm.” It’s the best reply you can manage as he grinds his clothed cock against the cleft of your ass, already hard. You can only imagine how many women he’s had in this situation to award all six feet and three inches of himself the ability to move so successfully around in the cramped backseat. 

Nimble and worn fingers circle around your hip, dipping down to tease at dampening lace, eliciting a soft moan from you. You push back against him, delighting in the soft grunt he lets out as he curls himself over you to scrape his teeth over your nape. His fingers continue to run up and down against your clothed cunt, pressing at the growing slick spot marking your wanting hole.

“Excited huh?” He mumbles as he skims his tongue against the shell of your ear, you manage a low hum in reply as he slides his hands back up, tugging down the flimsy piece of clothing, exposing your needy cunt to hungry eyes. He wastes no time pressing his fingers against your twitching hole, causing you to wiggle your hips just enough to earn a low chuckle and send the message of just how much you want him, need him. 

Without any further hesitation he slips in a finger, your back arching with the realization his fingers are longer than Kunimi’s, chest burning at the fact you could even think of another man in this situation. As if he can sense your wandering thoughts Taichi works in another finger, another following quickly after. There’s no urgency in his movements, each twist and thrust of his fingers methodical, curling in just the right way, making sure to brush his thumb over your throbbing clit to send a stinging pleasure up your spine. 

You can’t deny the way he’s taking you apart so sweetly, the tightening deep in your belly achingly sweet, as he starts to thrust his fingers even deeper, tiny gasps and whines starting to grow louder and louder as you careen towards bliss. With a particularly rough curl of his fingers you feel yourself come undone completely, punctuated by a shameless moan.

The sound of knuckles tapping against the fogged glass pulls you out of your blissful haze, still acutely aware of the way Taichi has his fingers lazily twisting inside of you. 

“It’s open.” He tugs you back by the hips slightly as he retracts his fingers painfully slow, listening as he unzips his jeans. Your heart races as the passenger door opens, shifting uncomfortably to try to catch a glimpse of who’s slid into the car.

“Oh, so that’s where you went, Mattsun said you were hanging around.” Your blood runs cold, your state of undress tightening your chest as you become painfully aware of the situation you’re in. The passive tone of Kunimi’s voice nips at your skin, tears away at the search of mindless fun that you had tried to pursue with Taichi, filling your chest with raw embarrassment.

“What do you want?” The tear of a wrapper following the question, whatever protest you had silenced by a hand coming down to grip harshly at your ass.

“You have my grinder.” Kunimi slips into the passenger seat, the sound of the glove box popping open making your eyes squeeze shut. 

“Yeah well close the door at least.” Your eyes widen at Taichi’s statement, you didn’t want Kunimi to just close the door, you wanted him to leave.

“Whatever. Can I smoke in here?” It doesn’t sound like much of a question, more of a declaration with the ‘can’ and the question mark tacked on for decoration.

“I don’t care, do you?” You crane your head just enough to catch the blasé expression on Taichi’s face, a quirked brow directed more at your ass than you.

“Yeah sweetheart, care if I’m in here while you’re whoring yourself out?” Kunimi scoffs, the irritated tinge to his bored tone making you furrow your brows.

“Oh fuck you.” You start to rise on your elbows, only for Taichi’s hand to land between your shoulder blades, keeping you from moving any further. You let out a huff as Kunimi clicks his tongue in feigned disappointment.

“Sorry babe, it’s me who’s fucking you this time around, maybe Kunimi can get the next round.” Before you can even bother with a retort, Taichi drags the head of his cock against slick folds, teasing at your entrance. You let your head hang down, the click of a lighter grating on your nerves more than you would like to admit. 

“Please, fuck me, I want it so bad.” The whininess of your voice annoys even you, but if Kunimi wants to stick around and get on your nerves, then two could play that game. 

“Since you asked so nicely.” Just like before he slides in slowly, carefully, as if to make you memorize what each inch of him feels like splitting you apart so sweetly.

“Shit.” You exhale shakily as you try to adjust to him, it had been months since you last fucked anyone, since you last fucked the asshole sitting passenger.

He sets a leisurely pace, steady and infuriating. There’s a hand clamped down on your hip, fingers digging in painfully to keep you in place, to establish that he’s the one calling all the shots. You huff, still trying to buck your hips to meet his thrusts. There’s something in his actions that makes you feel greedy, desperate for so much more than he’s offering.

There’s no way around it, you’re completely at his mercy, left taking the shallow, slow thrusts that only makes the desperate ache deep in your cunt grow.

“Hook a finger or two in her mouth.” There’s a pause in Taichi’s motions, letting you finally take a deep breath of the thick weed laced air. “Don’t look at me funny, do it and see what happens.”

You hear a non-committal hum as those devilishly nimble fingers skim past your jaw, a whimper preceding his index pushing past your lips with a harsh tug at the corner of your mouth, the painful stretch of your cheek causing you to clench down on his length.

“Oh? You were right.”

“She’s already broken in,” Kunimi takes a long drag of the joint hanging in his fingers, “no point in holding back.” 

It’s as if a flip is switched in Taichi, the statement becoming an immediate challenge as he hooks in another finger beside the other, yanking harshly as the snap of his hips becomes almost painful. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the car, swirling with the heady smoke defiling the air. 

“W-Wait Taichi.” The words are garbled around his fingers, and you’re quickly dismissed as he snakes around his other hand to hook his middle and index on the other corner of your mouth, the stretch in your lips burning as he shifts from the quick paced thrusts to deep, hard strokes.

His only reply is to tug harshly on your mouth as pathetic whines and distored words spill from you. 

You can feel yourself start to shake almost violently, still reeling from your earlier orgasm and suffering at the hands of Taichi’s now vicious pace. Each thrust pushing you into madness, each tug of his fingers bringing you back. 

“Fuck, fuck.” He curls over you again, sloppily running his tongue up your nape. “You wanna cum?” 

“Mhmm,” you yelp at a particularly rough slam of his hips, “please.”

He grunts, moving a hand to grip at the back of your head while keeping his other hand planted on your hip, fingers biting into your hip. There’s no warning as he grinds into you, the hold on your hip finally relenting as he slides his digits back down to pinch at your throbbing clit, the bit of pressure sending you careening over the edge.

“T-Taichi.” Pleasure wracks through your body, your legs tremble violently as you try to move your hand on the door, shoulder aching from holding yourself in place. The second your hand moves, you give into the force of Taichi’s hand on the back of your head, forcing you to slam face first into the door, the impact making your nose sting, blood immediately starting to gush, running down your face and chin. 

You’re not sure if he doesn’t notice or doesn’t care as he continues his assault, the once careful, methodical thrusts turning desperate and depraved as he moves with reckless abandon. His teeth drag across your shoulder, before pulling out completely.

“Don’t need this.” You grip at your nose, trying to ignore the disgusting feeling of blood seeping onto your fingers, looking over your shoulder again to see Taichi pull off the condom. You can’t even protest with the way you’re bleeding profusely, pinching at your bridge at a poor attempt of stopping the bleeding.

“Stay still.” In one swift movement he’s plunging back into you, bottoming out immediately, a muffled yell falls from your lips, arching your back as he drives into you with just a few more hard thrusts you feel his seed spill inside you. 

For a moment you two stay suspended, the head of his cock nudging against your cervix, making you groan in a twisted sense of pleasure of pain. He pulls out painfully slow, delivering another harsh slap your ass as he sits back.

“Oh, sorry ‘bout your nose.” He helps you flip onto your back, swiping his thumb over the blood trickling onto your lip before shucking off his t-shirt and handing it to you. “Don’t have any tissues.” 

“So who’d you like playing fuck toy for better?” For a split second, somewhere between the back breaking orgasm and your nose being slammed into the door, you had blissfully forgotten that Kunimi was still in the car, but now that perfect illusion just had to be shattered.

“Must you be such a dick all the time?” You manage to pull your jeans back up, hissing at the stinging pain in your hips and lower back, ignoring the lewd feeling of Taichi’s cum starting to leak from your abused cunt. 

Beside you Taichi manages to tuck himself back into his pants, reaching under the driver's seat to yank out a hoodie reeking of weed and cigarettes.

“Maybe you two should just get together already.” Taichi lets out a low chuckle as he pulls on the hoodie, getting out of the backseat, slamming the door hard before throwing the driver’s door open. You don’t even bother trying to hook your bra back on as you pull your shirt down, letting yourself slump back down and lay across the backseat as you reach up to check if your nose is still bleeding.

“Like hell.” Kunimi twists around in the passenger seat, looking down at you with an amused smirk, offering the freshly rolled joint to you. “You look like shit. I said she was broken in, not to break her more.” He only gets a wry laugh from Taichi as he starts the car.

“Thanks, right back at you.” You sit up just enough, looking at Kunimi expectantly. He shakes his head before twisting the joint in his fingers and placing it between your lips, producing the lighter. Just as he’s about to hand it to you he brings his hand back a bit, grabbing your jaw with his other as he lights the joint. He picks up Taichi’s bloodied shirt, pouring water from a twisted plastic bottle onto it before passing it back to you.

“Cute, blew her back out and you’re doting on her.” You watch as Kunimi moves to sit back in his seat, not even bothering to spare you a second glance as he shrugs. You dab away at the drying blood on your face, ignoring a few of the splotches that landed on the joint.

“Guess I play favorites, drop us off at my place.” 

“Us?” You exhale after a long drag, narrowing your eyes at the back of Kunimi’s head as Taichi pulls out of the parking spot.

“What do I even get out of doing that?” You can’t help but nod in agreement of Taichi’s statement, feeling yourself growing annoyed at the way they seem to ignore your entire presence.

“You can fuck her again.” Kunimi offers and you almost drop the joint as your jaw falls open at the absolute nerve of the man. 

“Excuse me? I’m right here?” The way that neither of them even flinch at your statement, let alone acknowledge it makes you slump back into the seat, begrudgingly accepting the fact whatever you say isn’t worth shit to either of them.

“Hm.” It doesn’t sound like he’s actually considering the offer, but the quick look over his shoulder as he turns out of the parking lot sends a chill down your spine and your stomach to twist.

“Believe it or not, her mouth’s her one redeeming quality.” The two of them snicker, like two old pals sharing an inside joke.

“Shut the fuck up.” You’re brushed off once again as they toss back a few more comments before Taichi stops at a red light, looking over at Kunimi, then back at you and finally back towards the road.

“Yeah alright.”

[bastillewolf]

Hey I know you probably have like a billion requests already but maybe you could do something where the reader is good friends with corpse (maybe with some unspoken feelings) and they ask him to visit their country side home lmao-

I'm really embarrassed about asking this and I know it sounds strange but being out in the country side can be really good for mental health and I just want this boi to heal--

I'm so sorry hahah

Thanks

That’s not strange at all, darling!! I love this ask! I’m so sorry it took me so long to answer this, my mental health hasn’t been very good lately. I suppose I found this ask rather appropriate and I guess that’s why I liked writing it so much. Hope you enjoy!

Sunrise, Sunset - Oneshot

Pairings: Corpse Husband / Reader.

“Yo,” is the first thing you hear as you open your Discord. It’s not his regular greeting, and he sounds more tired than usual.

“What’s up?” you asked curiously. “Everything okay? Haven’t talked to you in a while.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I got really busy.”

“I can tell from your voice,” you chuckled. It had more of a rasp to it- if that was even possible.

“Yea, I can’t do too much for too long. I love that I’m able to work on music now, but it exhausts my voice so much that I can’t even stream sometimes.”

“Maybe you should take a break,” you comment.

“Probably. It’s almost done, so then I can stream more,” he replies.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Hm?”

“I’m talking about an actual break, from everything.”

You hear him exhale deeply as if he’d already been considering it himself. “That does sound very nice.”

“I know, I always have the best ideas.”

“You do, except you forgot about the fact that I can’t really go anywhere. I mean, I’d love to take a break, but if I just sit here at home, I’m gonna either end up doing nothing or start working anyways. I don’t see me relaxing that way.”

“I didn’t forget about anything; I just hadn’t gotten to that part yet.”

“Oh?”

You’d be lying if you said that noise didn’t make you blush. “Remember how I said I live in the countryside? You know, it’s quite cosy here, and I have a guest bedroom to spare. If you want, but only if you’re comfortable with it, you could come over.”

It was quiet for a moment and your poor nerves were wondering if you’d said something completely wrong. You knew how he was about his privacy, but you’d figured that having known each other for a more than a few months now, you’d be at a point where you’d become actual friends, especially considering you always talked over Discord. At least, when he wasn’t busy.

“I... You wouldn’t mind?” he asked softly.

“Of course not!” You immediately replied, trying your best to make him feel as welcome as possible. “It’ll be so much fun! I was just worried you wouldn’t feel comfortable with it, otherwise, I would’ve invited you over a lot sooner.”

“Really?” he asked.

“Yes! I’m always looking for people to take care of my chickens.”

“You have chickens?” he sputtered.

“Sure do. And that was a joke, by the way.”

He didn’t really give you much time to prepare. He’d instantly asked if he could come over in two days, which meant you had to clean, do the groceries, and have another mental breakdown within that short time.

When he did arrive at your relatively small but homely cottage, you knew that even if you’d had more time, you still wouldn’t have felt like you’d prepared enough. You were incredibly nervous, especially as the cab slowed to a nerve-wracking speed until it finally stopped in front of your little wooden fence that really couldn’t keep anyone out of your garden because it was so ramshackle.

You nod your head to the driver politely, who got out of the car to unload a bag from the trunk. Then, the door opened, ringed fingers sliding across the yellow polish on the metal framing. He pulled himself up and out, finally allowing you to take a good look at his face.

His hair was dark and curly, as to be expected from what you’d seen in the pictures, though you could barely see it underneath the hood he’d pulled up. His dark brown eyes immediately found yours, and a shy smile graced his lips, which you bashfully returned with a small wave. It made you want to hit yourself multiple times. He paid the cabby and thanked him, allowing you to take a good look at his attire, at his frame, at his whole being. He was wearing a black hoodie with some chains around it, along with dark baggy trousers and, go figure, black sneakers. He was slightly slouching, probably so the driver wouldn’t be able to make out his face in its entirety, but overall he looked lean, even while his face was more pale and tired, with dark circles surrounding his eyes.

He locked the creaky wooden fence behind him, quickly closing the distance between you two with only a few strides. He dropped his backpack on the floor, saying, “hi.” “Hey,” you replied with that stupid smile still on your face and now quite possibly a hint of red dusting your cheeks. He just chuckled at the slight awkwardness of the situation, before wrapping his arms around you in a warm hug. He smelled like nice cologne, and he gave really good hugs. It said a lot that you could tell that from just the one. “Thanks for letting me come over,” he muttered, finally allowing himself to sound as exhausted as he looked.

“I told you, it’s nothing.”

When you met his eyes again as he pulled back, you knew he was quietly telling you that it meant more to him than that. Feeling shy under his dark gaze, you shook your head, saying, “Come on, let me show you around.”

It wasn’t that big of a tour, but it was home and it was comfortable, so you never felt embarrassed about it. You made enough money, to be fair, from your career through YouTube, but you’d never really had the heart to leave the house. At least you had a guest bedroom, and the garden was something to dream of. To trade that in for a bit more storage space would be such a pity.

“-and this is going to be your room, for however long you wish to stay,” you finish with a flourish of your hand. He set his suitcase down on the freshly made bed and nodded, glancing around for a bit before his eyes landed back on you. “Did I tell you how much I appreciate you doing this for me?”

You huff, “Once or twice now.”

“I’ll be off your back in a few days, don’t worry. I think I just needed to get out of my stuffy apartment for a bit.”

“Stay as long as you’d like,” you told him assuredly, “I know how stressful it can be and I haven’t even been through what you have. I can’t imagine what it must be like.”

He shrugs, “I have my ups and downs. It’s mostly my health issues and anxiety holding me back.”

“Well, I hope you can relax a bit here, then. People seem to feel more at ease without a bustling city around them,” you said.

He glanced out the window and nodded. “Yeah, I immediately noticed it as I got out of the car. It’s so... quiet here. And the air, of course. It’s so much nicer.”

“I usually take walks in the early mornings. You should come along sometime if you’d like. The sunrise is always really pretty when you get up on the hill.”

The corners of his lips quirked up. “I’d like that.”

“Great,” you replied, clapping your hands together, “I’ll let you get settled and start dinner. The uh- the bathroom is shared, I left a stack of towels on the rack so you can use those.”

“Thanks, I really appreciate it.”

You nodded shyly, silently closing the door behind you as you stepped into the hall. You let out a deep sigh and leaned back against the wall, pressing the backs of your hands against your cheek in a vain attempt to cool down the heat and tone down the redness. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d reacted this way but the times you’d spend talking about everything and nothing with Corpse through Discord calls that lasted until the early mornings. You knew you shouldn’t be feeling this way. You didn’t want to risk the friendship you had with him, but the tingling that had sprouted in your gut the moment he’d gotten out of that car told you that this was going to be hard.

 You knocked on his door quietly, afraid you were accidentally going to wake him when he didn’t want to be awoken. You didn’t know what kind of morning person he’d be, but he told you yesterday that he wanted to join you for your walk today. And while you were going to leave half an hour later than usual because it took you that long to work up the courage to knock on his door, meaning you were going to have to hurry a bit to catch the sun rising, you were still scared he was going to react grouchily. But when he opened the door, already dressed and ready to go, you realized you’d foolishly forgotten that this wasn’t just anyone, but that this was one of your friends; someone you already knew, even if it hadn’t been physically. Of course, he’d open the door with a smile, even though he looked more tired than the day before, which worried you.

“How did you sleep?” You made it evident in your tone that you were rather scared to ask the question, but it made him chuckle.

“I think you already know the answer to that. I don’t sleep well in general, so don’t worry. It has nothing to do with the bed or your hospitality.”

“Well, if there’s anything I can do for you, I don’t mind being woken up.”

He shook his head as he followed you downstairs and out the front door. “To be fair, I slept more than I usually would, but your rooster woke me up.”

You laughed, “Yea, I’m sorry, but I can’t do anything about that.” You held the wooden fence gate open for him, following him to the grass field until you were walking next to him. You silently picked up your pace a bit, worrying that you might miss the sunrise when you had promised it to him.

“I know, I know,” he replied amusedly, “Can we go see them later? The chickens?”

“Sure,” you smiled, “I also have a few ducks. You’ll love them, they’ll try to rip the shoelaces from your feet.”

“Sounds great.”

The walk to the hill wasn’t too far, but the hill was quite steep, which was always an exercise for people who walked with you for the first time, so you’d figured he’d start trailing behind you after some time. Thing is, he started trailing behind relatively earlier than you had expected him to.

Glancing back over your shoulder, you called out, “you good? We’re almost there.”

He nodded, though you could see him slightly panting, and you turned around to jog up the last bit until you reached the top. You could see a sliver of light start to peek over the horizon, making you glance back to see how far away he was.

But instead of having moved forward, he was now sort of slouched over, holding his stomach as he panted loudly. “Shit,” you cursed yourself as you sprinted back down until you skidded to a stop in front of him. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry, I should have slowed down-“

“It’s fine,” he waved you off, slowly catching his breath. “I can do it, I just take a bit longer.”

“I’ll carry you if I have to. I got us into this mess.”

He chuckled, but it sounded a bit hoarse.

“Come on,” you said. He furrowed his brow in confusion but followed you anyway. Walking along the side of the hill was tricky, but you made it around without any issues. He was able to keep up this time and gratefully plopped down on the grass beside you, just in time to watch the sun fully appear from behind the horizon.

“Holy shit,” he breathed.

“Yea, it never really gets old.” You laid down, feeling twigs of grass tickle the bareback of your neck.

He joined you, scooting a bit closer until your arms were brushing against each other. You couldn’t tell if he’d done it on purpose, so you acted like it hadn’t affected you, keeping your eyes fixed on the sky above you. At least, you tried. They flickered when you felt fingertips graze across your lower arm until they reached your palm, where his nails slowly dragged along your skin until his warm digits intertwined with yours. His rings felt cool against the heat and tingling you were suddenly feeling in your hand. He didn’t let go of you, not as you laid there for what seemed like hours, nor during the entire walk back.

‘Is this what friends do?’ you were silently asking yourself, watching the ducks try to free his shoes from its laces, ‘is this what friends do when they need support? Is this his way of coping, or is it-‘ You quickly shook the thought away. Of course, he wouldn’t think of you that way. He probably did stuff like this with all his friends. You knew how playful he could get, his guy friends included.

Yeah, it was just that. It had to be.

You were both laid back on the couch that night, stuffed to the brink with the famous lasagne you’d put together. The TV was on, but it sounded more like static noise in the background. “I think I can just fall asleep right here,” you hummed. The glass of red wine you’d shared – because neither of you could handle liquor – had created a pleasant buzz between the two of you.

“That seems a lot less comfortable than your bed.”

“You don’t know a thing about my bed,” you huffed indignantly.

It was quiet for a moment then, a sliver of tension seeping through the warmth of your home. “I think it’s probably about as comfortable as mine, otherwise you’re treating your guests too much,” he replied.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, “I’ve actually never slept in the guest bedroom. I might just be treating my guests too much and I’d never even know about it.”

He suddenly sat up and turned the TV off. “Come on,” he said and was already up the stairs by the time you’d made an attempt to move.

When finally reached the upstairs and were about to round the corner, you were suddenly picked up and slung over his shoulder, causing you to let out a loud shriek. “Corpse!” you laughed, “Please put me down!”

“You were taking too long,” he grumbled, dropping you down on the bed unceremoniously. He shuffled over until he was laying down next to you and lifted the covers up until it reached your neck.

“So?” he asked.

You had your eyes closed. “I might be treating my guests too much.”

He snorted. “Fucking knew it,” which made you laugh.

You laid there for quite a while, not really caring if either of you fell asleep with your regular clothes still on. “Hey Corpse?”

He hummed.

“I’m really glad you came. It gets lonely over here sometimes.”

He shifted, but because it was so dark you couldn’t really see what he was doing. Suddenly though, you felt him hovering over you, his elbows resting on either side of your face as his hand reached across to move a strand of hair to the side. He leaned down and hesitantly, his lips barely touched yours, a silent question if this was okay. You moved back against him, your hand finding his cheek in the darkness. His kisses were gentle, but passionate, which made your breaths heavier and deeper. When you pulled apart, you were both breathing heavily, mostly from the tension that had arisen.

“I really like you,” you admitted.

“Good,” he replied, wrapping his arms around you until you were tucked against his chest. You hit his arm playfully, “Cocky bastard.”

You hear the smirk in his voice as he said goodnight.

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