#This job is a bit lazy in detail

[ask-yuki-n-centi]

it is worth noting that these drawings do not relate to the timeline of the blog (but they will most likely be here in the future)

[tyunniez]

converse high... bttm male reader

!!.. this has to be my worst work yet,, uhh rough sex, creampie, kinda vanilla ngl, not proofread idfk also bts ref borahae 💜

you jumped around in excitement to see one of your favorite group is finally going on tour! and they're coming to your city!

you immediately rushed to check the tickets, choosing the vip standing seat. " wait, how much money do I have left? " you stopped yourself before making a bad decision.

you looked at your bank account and almost passed out. you're broke as hell.

" why the hell am I so broke? " you questioned yourself, trying to find a genuine reason.

you scanned throughout your room till your eyes landed on your closet. " ah. that's why. "

multiple articles of clothing brimmed your closet causing it to overfill, making you slightly grimace at how your clothing rail was holding on for its dear life.

you recently went on another shopping haul after seeing your favorite idol adorning a new collection that was released by your favorite fashion brand.

you just had to get it.

yeah, maybe you had a bit of a spending problem..

your parents have spoiled you since birth because you're their one and only child. no, you weren't wealthy. you had to take on jobs multiple times, but hey hard work pays off!

you were currently on your break, and you intended to spend it going shopping till you went broke but unfortunately, due to you blowing your money to buy another vip standing ticket, that money mysteriously vanished.

" hmm.. is there any job I can do right now? " you rolled around in bed while scrolling through your phone, trying to find any quick gag you could do to earn some cash.

you ended up throwing your phone to the wall, groaning aloud when you could find none.

" i'm so lazy! not to mention my piles of assignments... " you sighed to yourself, opting to go downstairs instead to eat your sorrows away.

you were greeted by both of your parents downstairs, your mom already getting started on making lunch. " oh dear, what's wrong? you look stressed. "

you go to stand beside her, washing your hands in the process to help her cook. " I'm looking for a job to buy a ticket for a concert. my fav group is coming here you know! " you complained to your mom.

you grab the onion and began slicing it, shedding a few tears meanwhile. your mom thinks to herself, turning to you with an idea.

" you know our neighbor is actually looking for someone to babysit her kid. the pay is quite good since her kid is quite.. naughty. " you stared at the soup you were stirring and hummed.

" i can send you the details if you're interested, dear. " you nodded and decided to see how much would the pay be, who knows it might be enough.

a bonus is the kid has a total hottie as her brother!

you took one look at the pay and were sold immediately. you did the math and doing this for the amount of time needed will be more than enough.

i mean, babysitting can't be that hard, right?

⊹₊⋆

you sighed nervously as you finally approached the front door, your tote bag on your shoulder with everything you needed inside. you knocked on the door, anxiously waiting for the mom to greet you.

instead, you were greeted by someone else. " you the new babysitter? "

you stuttered, brain short-circuiting. instead of answering, you stared at the man in front of you.

the red-haired cocked his head to the side, waiting for you to answer with a raised brow. " hello? you there? " he asked in an annoyed tone.

" oh, oh yeah sorry. y-yeah, i'm the new babysitter. " you gripped the strap of your tote bag, trying your best to maintain eye contact with the man in front of you.

he hummed and opened the door wider for you to come in. you excused yourself and stepped into the house.

you walked up to ms. moore to greet her but before you could say anything she rushed towards you, her bag already in her hand.

" oh yn dear! i was just about to leave! thank god you're here. so there's money on the counter in case maya wants anything to eat. you can ask my son for any help. i'll be back before one so i hope you can withstand.. "

before you could ask any questions, she already rushed her way out towards the door. " jason, you better help the babysitter this time! thank you again and i'll see you when i get back, dear! "

with a slam of the door, she was gone.

you stood there, trying to process the information she just dumped on you. in your shocked state, jason gave you a pat on the shoulder. " she always does that. good luck dealing with that devil. ", was all he said before leaving you alone.

" maya, go easy on him! " he shouted upstairs.

you turned to the kid staring at you from the couch, a little concerned about what he just said. you've dealt with kids before, this will be easy.

⊹₊⋆

god, you regretted even thinking that.

there was a reason why babysitters kept dropping out like flies. this kid might as well come straight from hell!

you let out a long sigh as you crashed onto the sofa. you finally managed to put maya to sleep. though you couldn't really relax, still scared she might pull something with you thinking she was asleep.

" don't worry she's asleep. " you looked to the side to see jason slipping next to you on the couch, remote in his hand as he scrolled through various movies.

you let out another sigh, leaning your head back against the headrest and closing your eyes. you crossed your legs over one another, inspecting your slightly dirty converse high.

you peered over next to you, silently admiring jason.

you observed how his grown-out wolf cut, his red-haired that was now washed out is slightly messy, making it look like he just rolled out of bed.

your eyes were especially glued to his piercings. from his industrial to his snake bite, god he has so much.

you were more so drawn to his lips, that you could see his tongue-piercing. he purposely toyed with it, flicking his tongue out to tease you.

he licked his lips ever so slowly, his pink tongue grazing over his lower lip, not forgetting to graze over his snake bite. you gulped and looked away to try to get your mind on something else.

you didn't want to pop a boner in someone else's house!

" had enough already? " his sultry voice suddenly asked. you whipped your neck to look at him, eyes wide like a deer caught in a headlight, did he catch me staring..?

you cleared your throat and grabbed a nearby pillow to try to cover your growing hard-on.

" w-what're you talking about? " you glued your eyes towards the tv, trying to seem as unbothered as you can, thou the stuttering clearly gave it away..

jason rolled his eyes and discarded the pillow you were clinging onto, " oh come on, don't play dumb now. "

he pinned you down on the couch, caging you in leaving you no choice but to look at him.

" don't tell me you didn't notice at all.. "

you tried your best to look at him in the eyes, trying to figure out what he was talking about. well, he was really touchy.. his hands always found their way to touch you no matter.

he always knows just where and when to linger his touches to make you slightly flustered, the way he held your waist earlier still not leaving your eyes.

he also never took his eyes off of you ever since you stepped into his house. his eyes always trailing over to wherever you are, observing whatever the hell you are doing.

your cheeks got redder as you turned your head to the side, trying to hide from his gaze. " see i know you were a smart boy, now how far are you willing to go, bunny? "

you clasped your hand over your mouth, eyes rolling back to the back of your head. this is all too lewd!

you peeked down to look at him and the view below you was breathtaking.

jason's messy hair was now slicked back with his sweat, his big hands holding your legs open as his tongue worked its way on your dick. you could feel his tongue piercing along it, the added sensation making your thigh quiver.

you slowly released your hold on your own mouth, breath shaky. " jason, i-i'm close.. " your meal voice was shaky from the amount of pleasure you were experiencing.

he hummed and just continued to suck you, his hand now fondling your balls, massaging them as if to coax you to release.

you gripped the bedsheet below you, the warmth of his mouth mixed with the occasional cold feeling of his piercing was driving you over the edge. with a loud moan, you finally released in his mouth, eyes closing in bliss.

jason swallowed it all, making sure not to leave any drop behind. you didn't know whether to feel grossed out by it or not.

" ready to move on now bunny? " jason asked you while grabbing a bottle of lube, squirting a glob of it on his fingers. you silently nodded and watched as he squirted another glob on your hole.

" cold.. " you whined at him, feeling the chilliness of the lube. " don't worry, i'll warm you right up bunny. " he smiled.

he first inserted one finger into you slowly, letting you get used to the feeling. he began slowly moving it, occasionally grazing over that spot that made you see stars.

he then inserted another and another, steadily picking up his pace and getting more rougher as time went on. your eyes shoot back open as you kept your lips as tight as you could.

you were close and jason seemed to know this too.

before you could reach your climax, he swiftly pulled his fingers out. you looked up at him in confusion, dumbfounded as to why he stopped. " w-why'd you stopped? "

he took off his boxer, tossing it somewhere else. " don't tell me you were gonna cum just from that. the real fun begins now, bunny "

you watched as jason stroked his own dick, pouring lube on it. he was big. maybe too big for you. " are you sure it'll fit.. " you asked him while your eyes still trained on it.

" don't worry.. " he aligned himself with your hole, " i'll make it fit. "

with that, he shoved himself into you, the student action made you let out a loud moan. your eyes instantly teared up from the sudden stretch. you bit your lips to make sure no other noise escaped from you.

he was so big and you felt so.. full. his tip perfectly kissed your prostate, almost as if you were molded just for him.

" look at you taking it so well.. i knew i should've stuffed you full the moment i saw you. "

you stifled another incoming moan. your hands both covered your face, trying to hide your flushed face. two hands suddenly held onto your wrist, effectively prying your hands off of your face.

" don't hide this gorgeous face from me now. "

his own fingers intertwined with your own as he pounded into you roughly, going fast and aggressive from the start. a string of moans left your lips, your voice shaky due to how fast he was.

soon, one of his hands sneaked its way onto your thigh, hoisting it up. you almost screamed from how much deeper he was inside you. you didn't think it was even possible.

" jasonn, i'm near.. " you whined. your own dick bounced and twitched begging for release. " i'm close too, bunny.. cum with me, yeah? "

you nodded while jason held onto your ankles, his fingers digging into the fabric of your converse high. he somehow began speeding up, chasing his own climax.

you closed your mouth with your own hand, knowing damn well your moans were echoing throughout the house already.

with no warning whatsoever, you felt the warm liquid soon filling your inside, dropplings of it escaping from your hole. the feeling of being filled with jason's thick cock mixed with his own cum running down your ass caused you to also release.

you shut your eyes as your release painted your stomach white, some of it landing on jason's.

after a few moments of silence, he then let go of your ankles, slowly pulling out. you winced at the feeling of emptiness. you rolled to the side, jason also crawling next to you.

you soon almost lull yourself to sleep before remembering that tomorrow you have to babysit maya. oh god maya. you prayed she was sleeping like a baby and didn't hear anything.

" shit.. i honestly can't feel my legs and i still have to babysit maya tomorrow... " you groaned out loud next to him, trying to brainstorm an idea on how to babysit that devil in your current state.

jason only laughed next to you. talking about how he'll figure out a way to deal with her tomorrow. you hope he will since you can't miss the pay...

[angelwhisp3rs]

✧˚ · . 7 minutes in heaven

Pairing: RE2!Leon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Leon gave his girlfriend the best gift ever - his virginity ❤

Tags: Smut; fluff; p in v; oral (f); loss of virginity; leon is desperate; they are in love your honor

Notes: IM BAAAAAACK! Had to take a week off to focus on my studies, but now im free! Was supposed to post this earlier, but i got lazy!

Minors do not interact!!

After dating for quite a while, it was visible that Leon was a great boyfriend, he was confident in everything he did, he paid attention to the little details and was always surprising her. That’s why, on her birthday, he decided to give her something much more special - his virginity.

At first, it was weird talking about it, he was a grown adult, with a job and everything, and he still had his v-card intact. He was so focused on his career that things like that never really mattered to him. That’s until she came along, and he knew that he wanted to share something so personal with her, and only her.

Setting the mood, he woke her up with a nice bouquet of her favorite flowers and a warm breakfast, the meal eaten while they shared sweet kisses and sweet nothings. He hated that both needed to go to work, the day passing slower in his mind since he was anxious for the night.

When the night fell, both felt giddy - Leon because he was finally getting a taste of sex - something his colleagues always boasted about - and her because the man was making her day so perfect, she had no idea how it could get any better.

At dinner, she noticed him more fidgety, as if he had something on his mind. At first, Leon wanted to play it cool, being a gentleman and serving her for the entire night, but the moment he saw her red inviting dress, his dick decided that he wanted to do the thinking, not his actual head. The slit on her dress showed her soft thighs, and he could only wonder how good they would feel wrapped around his head as he fucked her with his ton-gosh, he needed to focus.

“Baby, you seem worried. Is something the matter?” She quietly asked him, worried that something might have happened.

“No, it's fine, love. Just thinking how pretty you look” he half lied, smiling sincerely at her as he caressed her hand, looking completely smitten by the woman sitting in front of him.

She blushed at his comment, he was always an expert in making her feel so loved.

For now, she chose to drop the matter, just wanting to enjoy the evening with him.

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

Dinner was amazing, the food was spot on. They walked around a park nearby, enjoying the flowers falling and making the scenery movie-like. They talked and laughed, now filling their hearts after filling their stomach.

As they headed home, Leon felt his heartbeat quickening, but took deep breaths- the night wasn't over yet.

He softly guided her near him, wrapping his arms around her as they shared a deep and passionate kiss, moving his hands all over her body and tightening his grip around her hips.

“Love, want to go to our bedroom? Don't want this night to finish yet” he whispered against her lips, their saliva making everything more wet and intimate.

She looked surprised at him, since she knew from the beginning that he was still a virgin, and was always supportive and patient with the man, never wanting to rush things. The woman nodded, being guided to their room as they still didn't break their hold and deep kisses.

Feeling a rush, Leon pushed her into their bed making her yelp a bit, earning a sorry look from him. God, she was not a ragdoll Leon, stop thinking about porn!

“Baby, we don't need to do this, you know that, right?” She asked him with a smile, watching as he moved to hover her body

“Really want to… I’ll be good to you, baby” he whispered as he pressed kisses to her neck, clumsily pushing her dress up

If it wasn’t such an intimate moment, she would’ve laughed as he tried to push her dress out without even realizing that it had a zipper on the back. Ending his misery, she gently pulled him back and zipped the clothing down, laying on their bed in her black underwear (thank god she decided to wear matching ones today!).

Like a poor and desperate horny boy, the first thing he did was press his face against her tits, wanting to suffocate himself on her chest. She giggled at his eagerness, watching as he mouthed and pressed open mouthed kisses on her cleavage, as his hands kneaded them. 

Not waiting anymore, his hands traveled to her back, reaching her bra clasp. He grunted in dissatisfaction as that task proved to be harder than it looked - god, are those things indestructible? Once again, pitying him, she simply reached back and undid her bra in a swift moment, making Leon look at her dumb founded “How the fuck did you do that?”

“Practice” she giggled “you’ll get to be as good as I am the more you do it”, and then gave him a wink

He chuckled, but turned his focus back to the task at hand, and threw her bra somewhere along their room (he genuinely had no idea where it went). He tried not to be a creep, but he couldn’t help but stare at her boobs for a long time, only breaking the spell when she giggled at his hungry eyes. Her chest on show, his mouth worked directly on her nipples, sucking and wetting awkwardly. The man was just too eager to try to get a taste of her, and the soft feeling of her buds on his tongue made his hips twitch, desperate from any friction.

Even if it was messy, she could only moan and tug his hair in pleasure - even if uncoordinated, his tongue felt so delicious, her cunt gathering arousal quickly. “F-fuck, baby… more” she moaned as her hands didnt leave his blonde locks.

He was completely in ecstasy as he heard her needy voice, nodding as he kissed his way down her body, playing with the lace on her underwear. He softly kissed the fabric and pulled it down, almost ripping it because of how excited he was. He looked at her wet cunt and gaped, as if he was seeing paradise for the first time.Quickly, he fumbled as he removed his shirt, opening his belt and laying on his front, putting her legs on his shoulders.

What now?

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

Well, Leon had to think of every porn he has ever watched - not that those were accurate and all, but he could at least mimic the movements. But as he watched her wet cunt throb, everything flew away from his mind, he just craved her, and her taste. Before she could say anything, his face moved forward and he licked her clit wantonly - he wasn't even timid about it, his tongue was firm and sure, making her body arch from the bed, her gentle hands moving down to tug his hair.

“Fuck, Leon!” she whined, sensitive from his eager muscle moving against her bundle of nerves

“Wanna make you feel good, baby… need you to drench my face” he said in muffled words, as he still ate her out, his hands holding her hips and thighs tightly.

The only thing guiding Leon was her reactions at where his tongue passed, her moans getting especially louder when he rolled and sucked the little button above her cunt lips, so he kept his work there. If Leon died now, he would die as a happy man. Her pussy tasted sweeter than his favorite candy, and the wet sounds caused by the suctioning sounded so, so sinful, he just couldn’t stop. 

He was so focused on the sensation that he didn’t even realize when her legs started shaking around him and the grip on his hair grew tighter. “B-baby, G-gonna cum!” she moaned desperately, looking down at him and biting her lips, her cheeks being fully flushed.

“Please, cum on my tongue, need it, need to taste it…” he rambled as he sucked and rolled his tongue viciously, his rough hands holding her hips down, not letting her squirm away from his grasp. 

Soon, she saw fireworks and exploded against his mouth - of course that man made a woman cum on his first time, he was Leon S. Kennedy after all. She laid shaking on the bed, pushing his head away and closing her legs for the moment, as Leon had to lower his pants and underwear, watching her explode almost made him cum in his pants, he needed to feel her now.

He gently parted her legs again, his hands caressing and feeling up her body as he was addicted to the feeling of her skin, as they shared soft kisses. When they felt she was ready, he slowly rubbed his head against her entrance and clit, making both moan - Leon  had to think about very disgusting things, otherwise he would cum like a horny teen and he wouldn’t even be inside her. 

“Are you ready, baby? We can back down if you want to” she assured him once again, caressing his face lovingly as both looked at each other with a shared and intense passion. 

He shook his head, smiling and kissing her forehead “love, I adore when you are sweet, but I need to fuck your brains out or i’ll go insane” he chuckled, and his hand guided just his tip in.

Just the tip, and she swallowed him with vigor, making Leon let out a choked out moan. It was only the head, and yet, he felt his cock throbbing and twitching, he really needed to hold back, otherwise this would end sooner than he would’ve liked.

Slowly, his entire shaft was inside her, and Leon swore he was seeing stars, just like those old cartoons. Holy shit, is that what sex was like? Now he gets it. He should call off work this week and spend with her in bed, fucking and working up his stamina.

“You can move, baby” she whined impatiently. God dammit, woman, mind your tone! If she kept talking to him like that, he would absolutely blow in his first thrust.

He nodded and began moving, and if he wasn’t hitting that gummy spot, she would be laughing, the sight adorable - his face was red as if he was holding his breath, and his mouth was hanging open as he watched his cock slide in and out, getting creamier and creamier with her cunt juices.

Wrapping her legs around him, she pulled the man into a kiss, making his knees buckle and his hips move in a grinding motion, his hair ticking her puffy pussy as their moans were drowned in their kisses. Her nails scratched his back, being enough to create red lines but not really hurt him. 

While both were losing their minds, the only sounds in the room were loud moans, some bed rattling and their skin slapping. His hips - thankfully - met a more pleasurable rhythm, not too fast or slow. Enough to make him feel his cock on her cunt, while she felt her wet pussy molding into his dick.

“Fuuuuck, can’t hold it, can’t hold it” he moaned in almost unintelligible moans, holding their hands together as his hips started to falter and her thighs went more rigid as the pleasure waves flowed through them.

“Come inside, baby, mark me, let it all go” she said aiding him

Soon, like her words casted a spell on him, he filled her up as her walls closed on him, thankfully cuming together. Both laid there regaining their breaths, Leon resting his head right against her heart beat - the best song he has ever heard. She guided him for another gentle kiss, both smiling like idiots in satisfaction.

Leon was a full man now! And he didn't even embarrass himself, knowing he made her come and fucked her properly! He looked at the wall on the nightstand to verify how long he managed to go and… wait, what the fuck? Only seven minutes? No, no, he needed to do better! 

Pulling him away from his paranoia, she looked at him with heart eyes and whispered “That was the best birthday ever. Thank you for making all of this special. it was perfect”

For the first time in the night, he blushed and nuzzled into her neck, whispering back “It really was. Couldn’t imagine doing this without you. Thank you for being so patient and staying”

“Would wait forever if it meant being with you” she simply answered, making his heart soar.

Leon was fine with the seven minutes now, after all, they had a lifetime to make up for it.

[mockerycrow]

Emergency Contact (1/2) (Ghost x GN!Reader)

>> emergency contact concept here << PART TWO HERE!!

Summary: Simon is your roommate, and you haven’t seen each other in months, considering Simon’s job. An unfamiliar number pops up on Simon’s phone, and answering it makes his world turn upside down.

A/N: How you two moved in together is very vaguely inspired this ghost fic right here. please give it a read! If you finish the song above, I highly recommend listening to the entire album while reading. i’m not the happiest with this, but i’m happy enough to post!

[WARNINGS: Blood and injury, traumatic events/trauma brought up, gore, little comfort, medical inaccuracies, tbh ooc simon but it’s ok.]

Eight months, thirteen days, and nine hours. That’s how long it’s been since he’s been home, since he’s seen you. That’s how long he’s been stuck on base, or thrown into a foreign country to complete some mission, or to gather some intel, or to kill someone, just somewhere, anywhere but with you.

Eight months, thirteen days, and nine hours. That’s how long it’s been since you softly asked him to stay as safe as he can, and to come back alive, and to come back with at least eight fingers. It was a running joke between you two, a way to relieve the terrifying reality of his job; as long as Simon came home alive and with majority of his fingers, he could consider it a job well done. You didn’t know much of his job, of course—only that he’s military, and he’s gone a lot. You already guessed it was a lot of classified stuff, probably down top secret government type of things. That did make you scared, though. You didn’t want the day to come, the day where people in fancy uniforms show up at your doorstep like you’re some widow. The thought of someone informing you of Simon’s death makes your stomach twist.

Eight months is admittedly a long time. Simon.. he missed you, but he’s rather die that verbally admit it, but he sure as hell felt it. He missed the way he could hear you walk through the house, the weight of the floorboards creaking up your feet. Simon missed walking by the bathroom and the air vaguely smelled your shampoo and body wash, a clear indicator you had just taken a shower. Simon missed the way you carelessly have your shoes next to the shoe rack, not even on it, and despite his annoyance of your laziness? He misses it every single time he’s away. He never really realizes the difference of living on base versus being home with you, and he’s comfortable in both environments for completely different reasons. Simon is comfortable with you because you’re safe, you aren’t associated with anyone he has to deal with on a near daily basis. You don’t scan the kitchen to see which household items could be potential bombs in the vicinity like he does. On base, Simon finds comfort in the familiarity of being constantly on alert, the need for a gun to be against his hip—it’s not the best, considering he’s in fight mode majority of the time, but it’s comforting. It’s familiar. It’s.. home, in a way.

You and Simon call at least once every three weeks—it’s not more because you’re both busy, you have your life to tend to while he has to do something like protecting an American Embassy, or sneaking into a compound to retrieve some vital information. You two talk about all kinds of things; you complain about the neighbors for the nth time, or you talk about your job, just something that he hasn’t heard about in a while. Simon.. he’s limited on what he can talk about—what he wants to talk about. It’s a bit difficult, keeping details of his job hidden away from you. He also keeps you hidden away from them; his team. Price vaguely is aware of your existence, but all he knows is your name and your phone number—someone to alert when he eventually would pass away.

It surprised Price when he requested access to his own file to make a change. Simon went for years without anyone in that section, leaving it blank—and then suddenly ‘[Name] [Last Name]’ is written down, along with your phone number. Simon doesn’t want to die somewhere and then you sit at home, dreading the fact that you haven’t received a call from him for over six months. Other than that, no one is aware of your existence and he wants to keep it that way. It keeps you safe, and he doesn’t want the one thing he has going in his life to be taken away from him—not like everything else has been.

No, you and Simon aren’t together. You just are the one constant he cannot allow to die. How you and Simon became close was rather funny, really—before you were roommates, you bumped into each other at the local stores, the bank, even several public spaces like parks and such. You didn’t see him too often and you weren’t aware on why, but you didn’t really wonder why either. By this point, you knew each other for a couple of months. He introduced himself as SR—not Ghost or Simon, but as SR. You didn’t bother to question it because this tall, bulky man seemed like he was trying keep himself as anonymous as possible. Without fail, you always saw him wear dark colored clothing that hid any identifiable markings—tattoos and scars, that kind of thing. He usually has his hood up with a black face mask covering his nose down, but you do know one thing—he has to have bright blonde hair. Why else would his beautiful eyelashes and eyebrows be that bright? It would catch your eye every time you’d see them. Sometimes you would see him with a beanie on and the mask, with his hood down. This wasn’t too often, as it exposed some scarring he has on the back of his neck, as well as his forehead. This also silently lead you to believe he has a tough past of some sort, which is confirmed when you run into him somewhere you never expected to—your therapist’s building. You bumped into him right outside, and you apologized profusely before looking and going silent as you made eye contact.

A silent agreement was made between you two that day, one that you could never put into words. Something in that moment that dragged you two closer together. You had been through some shit in your life, shit that had permanent effect on you, shit that you wanted to work through. It was horribly tiring, but you knew you needed to work through it—so you could live a life you felt was worth living. Simon, was on the other side of the spectrum. He didn’t want this. He never wanted to tell anyone about anything, but Price, Price fucking made him. Simon spends his days and nights plagued with nightmares and memories—he’s woken up in the middle of the night enough times to know that he needs help, but he was so adamant about not talking to anyone about it. But seeing you there? Someone who he hasn’t known for long, someone who had always greeted him with a smile on your face, laughter spilling from your beautiful vocal cords, and someone who doesn’t touch him without permission? It made him so angry and hopeless about this world. Not even you, a stranger who he sees as the best human being he’s known in a while—despite not knowing you for long—could escape from the cruel and sharp jaws of the world. You found out you two accidentally scheduled the same days, so it became an unspoken agreement to wait for the other outside of the building so you can both go in. Even when you weren’t sure when his next appointment would be, you’d be right outside of that building, waiting for him. You would always be right there, and that’s something he quickly learned.

You lost your house to a fire, everything went with the burning embers that raged inside of the 4 walls of your previous home, the structure collapsing in on itself. You had gotten out in time, and you numbly watched the fire roar, the crackling burning it’s memory in your ears. The piercing sound of different sirens were approaching, but all you could do is stand there with your phone in your hand, watching the home you worked so hard for burn to the foundation built years ago. You felt a hand on your shoulder, but you didn’t bother to turn to see who it was. Everything was going so slow, almost like a movie scene in the worst way possible. Your nostrils burned from the smell of burning wood, drywall, and installation. The hand squeezed your shoulder and you slowly looked at who it was—and was him. Simon. His eyebrows were furrowed, eyes ever so slightly panicked and it was obvious he was asking you something, but you didn’t hear him. All you could focus on was that he was here. You blinked rapidly as your eyes began to burn from the smoke and from that choked feeling going from your chest to your throat. “I..” You croak ever so slightly. You couldn’t hold it back—you quickly grabbed onto Simon desperately, letting out a heart-wrenching sob because you just lost everything you owned, every memory, every piece of furniture, everything.. but he was here. He was the only thing was wasn’t crumbling away from your grasp, the only constant. Once you clung to him, Simon’s senses were flooded with you. Fuck, your touch burned, just like everyone’s else’s but he liked—no, loved how it felt. Despite the image of a burning house in his wake making dread bubble in his gut, your sobs and touch were the only thing he could focus on. Simon hesitates for only a second before pulling you into his personal space, his arms wrapping around you and weighing heavily on your body. Neither of you spoke, he just let you scream into his chest and sob, your fists gently banging against his chest—the anger, the sadness, everything was too much. Simon knew exactly how you were feeling, so he didn’t mind the twinges of pain your hands produced. Simon was the one who helped you while you chatted with the paramedics and the police. He was the one who helped you find your words when you had none left to share, the smell of the smoke imprinted on your clothes.

Without question, Simon took you to his house. He did not have another bed set up, so he had you sleep in his room while he slept on his couch. He hated the hollow look your eyes held, the way you were delayed with your answers, the ways your hands shook. Your everlasting smile had dissipated into a wobbly frown and he.. Simon couldn’t handle it. He grabbed you some of his clothes and helped you into his bathroom, quietly telling you to take a shower. He’ll take care of your clothes. Simon left you alone, and you showered for a long time. He didn’t count, but it was over an hour and a half. Simon didn’t say anything about you possibly racking up his bill, how could he when you had just lost everything? He wanted to.. to help you, and he wasn’t sure why. Even when he found himself scrubbing your smoke and tar covered clothes in his kitchen sink, he couldn’t find an exact reason why he wanted to help you. Maybe it’s because you made him feel human when he needed to be, maybe you were the one thing that kept him coming back to this town, the one thing that kept him from completely pulling away from the civilian world. You had found him in a corner like a dog, lips curled back and snarling—sharp teeth clashing together, and without a word, you gave him reasons to trust you. Although they may not be.. normal reasons to the regular eye, but they were enough for Simon.

You’re enough for Simon. He scrubbed your clothes until his arms burned, and then some.

That’s when he found out that you too, were also someone who could not stay asleep for long. When Simon awoke with his adrenaline pumping from the muffled sound of vomiting, he had to calm himself down because he’s safe, and you’re safe, most of all. Simon isn’t sure when he began to think that way, but it’s one of the many things he’s decided to not question—which also new for him. Simon is man who demands answers, yet with you? it’s like everything naturally falls into place, which is why he doesn’t complain when your stay at his house—which you swore would only be until you gathered enough money for an apartment—turned from a two week stay, to Simon carrying in an IKEA bed frame to put and assemble in one of his empty rooms. Many sleepless nights came and went, and each and every one you spent them with each other, sitting by a windowsill together, other times spending it in the backyard and looking at the sky. Sometimes you would wake up first, sometimes it would be him. You somehow always knew when he had woken up from a nightmare, his heart pounding in his ears—until your hands grab his and squeeze, to ground him. You burn him, and he welcomes the tickle of your ever-glowing flame. A year into this arrangement, Simon finally shows you his face and he appreciates that you don’t look at him any different. He usually hates the searching eyes, trying to memorize every inch of his face—but he’s greedy when you do it. When your eyes roam over every scar and acne scar, when you point out his messily cut hair and half-assed shaven stubble, he doesnt get angry. Simon doesn’t feel suffocated by your glances. He doesn’t wear his mask at home anymore, not when you’re there.

Then Simon gets the notice about his three month leave ending soon; and he knows that you need to know about his job. Or at least, the bare minimum you need to know. In reality, it’s how much he wants you to know, but he doesn’t want to admit that. He sits you down one morning, a cup of tea in his hand and he had a mug of your favorite morning drink on the other side of the table he had bought a few weeks you started staying here. Simon explains that he has a job in the military, that he can’t tell you much, but it means he’s going to be gone for weeks, even months at a time. You’re at a loss at first, because who is going to have an extremely positive reaction to “by the way, I work an extremely dangerous job and I can’t tell you anything and I’ll be gone for a while.. Oh yeah, you likely won’t know if I die!”? Despite your initial reaction, you grow to be okay with this situation. Or, we’ll, as okay as you can be with it. You also find out that he was here for way longer than he originally is, due to his boss demanding him to take a break—AKA, “go to therapy you dafty”.

For a little over two years, you two fell into a good rhythm. A call every three weeks, him coming home and you becoming the safest space he’s ever had in his life.

Which is why when his personal cell phone begins to vibrate in his pocket during some fuck-all meeting, his eyebrows furrow. The number is unfamiliar, but the area code is not. Simon quietly excuses himself from the extended round table, taking his call outside of the meeting room. Price’s eyes follow his figure as he exits, noticing it’s his personal cell phone in his hand. Simon answers the call and presses his phone against his masked ear, muttering a low, “Hello?”

A high-pitched, soft yet serious voice filters through the speaker, a woman. “Hi, is this Mr. Riley?”

Simon pauses, and so does his heart. “Who’s asking?”

He honestly regrets asking that in the moment—one part of him genuinely wishes he never answered this call, and the other part of him is glad he did. “I’m a nurse from Northern Manchester Community Hospital, you’re written down as [Name]’s emergency contact. They’ve been a victim of a hit and run situation, sir. They’re alive, but they’re in the ICU.” The nausea that suddenly bubbles inside of his guys, the stomach acid mixed with whatever he had eaten previously, threatening to travel up his esophagus, burn every inch and then exit with a horrific sound. Simon’s head began to spin—he’s your emergency contact? A hit and run, you were fucking hit?? By what, a car? A pick-up? A semi? God, Simon has seen the most horrible, gruesome, fucked up shit you would ever see in his entire life, yet he isn’t sure if he can handle the image of you spread out in a hospital bed, with one too many tubes circulating around you. His mind plagues him with intrusive images, ones he never wants to actually see played out. Fuck, his head hurts. It feels like someone is physically shoving a knife into his chest and twisting it, like God is laughing at him and playing with Simon’s pain for his own gain. How could he not think that, especially with everything that has happened to him? His friends, his family? His old CO? The fucking abuse he endured??

It’s like Simon lost his hearing for a moment, because he cannot bare fucking losing you, too. There’s a vague ringing in his ears, almost like there was an explosion and he stood too close. And then suddenly every sound comes rushing back to his eardrums, and everything suddenly everything is so fucking overwhelming. “Mr. Riley?” The nurse calls over the phone, her tone laced with worry. He clears his throat and when he speaks, he sounds wrecked, which he fucking hates. “I.. I’ll come as soon as I can.” Simon hangs up, not giving the nurse a moment to speak. He drops his phone and if he doesn’t sit down, he’s going to fall over like a tree that’s been cut down. Simon lets out a shaky breath, trying to ignore the way his stomach is screaming and twisting as he puts a hand on the wall, and he crouches down. It’s the first time he doesn’t look around to see if anyone is watching his sudden display of emotion. When he’s suddenly rocked with the feeling of home at work, especially with the news that you’re fucking injured—he’s overwhelmed and twisted all over the place. Simon finds himself stumbling back to his barracks.

Price finds his way to him after Simon never returns to the meeting. He knocks on the door, but his knuckles pause before they can knock against the door for the third time as he discovers the door is open—which is very, very, odd. He slowly opens the door while calling for Ghost, and is met with the sight of Simon shoving some of his clothes and belongings into a duffle bag, as well as his military travel documents. “Ghost?” Price questions, who stopped in his doorway to watch Simon lose his mind while packing. Simon doesn’t respond as he practically rips his phone charger out of the wall and stuffs it into the bag, zipping it up. He slings it over his shoulder and he turns around, pausing when he sees Price. Simon’s eyes tell everything he’s feeling—that something’s happened, something bad, and he needs to leave. Price bites his lip and quietly exhales, his fingers rubbing at his chin. “I’ll approve your leave. Just shoot me a text of how long it needs to be, yeah?”

Simon makes sure to note to send Price a thank you of some sort, because within the next two hours, Simon is boarding a plane, heading for Manchester, wearing some black clothing, a jacket, a black face mask, gloves, and his beanie. The entire time, he could not stop thinking about you—and how you could possibly die before he got there to send off his final goodbyes. Is that something he would actually want to do, though? See you in the hospital, knowing it’ll be the last place you’d ever be alive in? Go home, see how you left the house exactly as you left it? A house, but without his home in it? Simon stares out the airplane window blankly, his hands curled into fists, and his nails would be digging into his palms if he didn’t have gloves on.

He couldn’t lose you. Not like this.

The next part for Simon, it’s a blur again. Got off the plane, got his luggage, provided documentation, blah blah blah—he didn’t give a fuck about any of it. His focus was you. He didn’t bother to stop home to drop his stuff off, he took an Uber straight to the hospital from the airport. It was a fairly expensive Uber too, but he could worry about the costs of everything later. It took another half hour to get there.

His heart began to hammer in his chest as the sight of the hospital’s signs began to pop up on the road, the anxiety taking hold in his stomach and his head begins to hurt again. Simon quietly thanks the driver, tips them, and exits the car with a swiftness once they pull up. Simon walks through the main entrance’s sliding doors, going up to the desk. A woman behind the counter hangs up the phone, murmuring a goodbye, and then she looks at Simon with her pretty blue eyes. “How can I help you, sir?” She murmurs sweetly, noting how anxious he is. She can see the sweat on his brow line. Simon clears his throat, his voice rumbling in his chest when he speaks. It takes everything in him to not yell at this innocent woman and get thrown out. “My.. My name is Mr. Riley, I was called ‘cause my friend is here,” Simon manages to push out. “[Name] [Last Name].” The woman turns to her computer and clicks the couple of buttons and types a couple of words and holy fuck, Simon just wants to go to your wing already—“Ah, yes, I see you’re listed as their emergency contact,” The woman grabs a sticky note and writes with a pink pen your room number and elevator floor, handing it to Simon. He barely gets a “thank you” out before he nearly jogs to the nearby elevator. Fourth floor, room 283. Fourth floor, room 283. Fourth floor, room 283—it’s the longest minute long elevator ride in his entire fucking life.

Simon changes face masks whilst facing the wall, and then he finds your room number—and his heart is beating out of his chest. There’s cops standing outside of your room who stop him from entering. Simon’s anger flares up so quickly, he nearly makes a scene until a doctor exits your room. She’s wearing her usual blue scrubs, her coat, and she’s dawning a N95 and some sterile gloves. She’s holding a clipboard. “Mr. Riley?” She questions, holding the clipboard close to her chest. Simon nods without hesitation, and she responds, “I’m sorry, but due to the nature of this case, you’ll have to provide some identification for me and these officers.”

Usually, Simon would hesitate—he gives anyone outside of his team the bare minimum, hell, he only introduced himself as SR until he knew you for a while. This time, he takes out his military ID and shows it to the officers. He ignores their looks of surprise, and ignores the murmurs that come from them. Simon puts his ID away and he holds back the urge to shove them out of the way as he glares down at the doctor on accident. “Come in,” The doctor opens the sliding door and steps into the hospital ICU room with him. Simon follows behind her and he immediately smells the sickening smell only the ICU gives off. There’s a small wall blocking his view from you that he hasn’t past, and he can already hear the machines working. A heart monitor, a ventilator, combined with other machines he doesn’t know too well. The doctor flips through the papers pinned to her clipboard. “They were hit by a vehicle of some sort, the scene suggested they were walking home from the local corner store. [Name] has multiple broken bones and fractures, a punctured lung, a fractured jaw and internal bleeding. They lost a lot of blood at the scene.” Simon doesn’t respond as he slowly walks forward, and he finally lays his eyes on you. It’s.. traumatizing, to say the least. You were never supposed to be in a hospital bed like this, hooked up to machines he can’t even name. He slowly walks over to you, dropping his duffel bag somewhere on the floor. He doesn’t care to look where. Simon barely pays attention to what the doctor is saying—his hands tremble as he stands by your side, his heart thumping harshly in his chest. Fuck.

He drags over one of the chairs next to your bed. Simon takes off one of his gloves slowly, and then he tears the other one off in a frenzy. He feels so unlike himself, so.. different.. human. He reaches over to your hand and his fingers grab your wrist, so gentle as if you’re glass. Simon presses his fingers against your pulse point, counting your heartbeats despite the monitor. The thumping under your skin makes it more.. real. Feeling you, your heartbeat, your warmth and your skin—it’s comforting. Simon clears his throat and fights the urge to vomit once a gain, watching your chest rise and fall, produced by the ventilator.

He moves his hand to intertwine with your fingers and he uses his other hand to feel your pulse. Simon closes his eyes, muttering the beats per minute under his breath.

At least you’re alive—you’re here, you’re alive, and you’re with him. And that’s all he asks for.

tags;; @alwaystired--neversleeping @handsomeunderwear-art @indefenseofkara @kaysav608 @1-is-loneliest-number @rosee-sensuelle @kitty-satan1 @k4marina @rahmown @royalty-purple @bowtruckleninja — if you are not tagged, it’s not allowing me :-)

[princessbrunette]

I love stepbro!jj, what about step sis asking jj to help her cum because she just can’t get the write angles :(

HELPING HAND ♡

tryin something new n decided to be less lazy with my writing and presentation. ♡

CW: step-cest, tiny bit of faux-cest if you blink i think ?? this is dark content technically, do not interact if that’s not ur thing. aside from that, usual warnings such as smut and mentions of past family issues. proceed with caution ❀

You loved when JJ came home.

It was simple, something he did everyday — well, most days atleast if he wasn’t off on some grand adventure you’d hear about a few days later, curled up to his side on the couch digging your toes into his thigh and begging him for details.

Anyway, JJ was different when he’d come home. Not like himself in the morning, running around frantically always half way out the door, still pulling up his pants holding the bagel you had put in the toaster between his teeth, ruffling your hair as he passes you as an apology for stealing your breakfast.

JJ when he came home was calmer. Not always super tired, just… done with the day, happy to be home, happy to see you. He was still warm from the sun, despite it having gone down hours ago, and always smelt like salt water still from being in and out the ocean all day. He’d wear a lazy dopey smile, dropping down on the worn leather of the couch beside you, spreading his arms along the back of it.

Today was different, and you wanted to be your usual silly and playful self with him, chatting until it gets late, your mother passed out asleep and his father taking a night shift up on the pier, a job JJ thinks he’s lucky to have talked himself into, yet pleasantly surprised he’s kept it up this long. Nights like these, your chatting would turn to playful wrestling, any excuse to get your hands on eachother and then a few guilty, chaste kisses once he’d inevitably pinned you. You weren’t in your usual mood however.

He hadn’t touched you in a while, not like that anyway. The glossy, pearl pink of your nail had been chipped off from your incessant nibbling, anxious thoughts swirling your mind regarding whether JJ had come to his senses, realising he shouldn’t be helping his little step-sister like this, and he’d rather just pretend it didn’t ever happen. God, had he spoken to someone about it? Been guided out of your needy hands? Your wondering had lead you to pull away slightly, not seek out his help like you so badly wanted to, trying to please yourself the way he did, attempting to remember the exact way he curved his fingers against your squelchy spot.

But your fingers weren’t long like his, and no matter how far you bent your wrist it just wouldn’t crook up to the angle you needed— and you didn’t even wanna get started on your lack of coordination in rubbing your clit at the same time, it was all too much for your hazy little head, and after pretty much working yourself to tears you’d resorted to huffing, pulling up your pyjama shorts and going to sulk on the couch in the dark, room lit up by old Spongebob re-runs.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes when JJ came home, and you wasn’t sure why. Well, you were — you were in a foul mood, and him walking through the door all warm and smiley and devastatingly charming just made you throb harder, clenching hard enough that you could crush a fuckin’ walnut in there. His dumb little sleeveless shirts and shorts and backwards red cap smushed over an abundance of sun-bleached hair. He didn’t even try, he just woke up and looked like that. It was twisted. How dare he.

“No ‘hello’? Y’know, you’re too pretty for all that pouting. Wanna talk about it? Talk to Papa J?”

He’s already teasing you, it’s like he knew. He flops down onto the couch next to you, leather covered couch cushions hissing under his weight, stretching himself across the space like he usually did. You wanted to crawl into his lap and rock against his dick and have your tongues wrap around eachother, but he wasn’t your boyfriend. He was your step-brother, you both needed to resist for a painful amount of time before you gave in, to prove to yourselves you were good, normal people. You didn’t see the point, you’d said it once and you still thought it— JJ was just bein’ a good big brother, helping you out when you need him so desperately. However, the denial of your shared feelings had become routine, and if it’s what it took for JJ to give in and help you, you were happy to play ball.

“S’bad JJ, I shouldn’t say. Doesn’t matter anyway.” You all but huff, turning back to the TV. Your lashes flutter a little when he urgently shifts closer, tilting his head trying to gauge your expression. You kind of wanted to smile, you liked that he cared.

“Wh- yes it matters. Is someone bothering you?” Yes. You. A tidal wave of warmth brushes over your arms, stomach curling tightly in on itself at the thought of JJ being protective over you, teaching someone who was being mean to you a lesson. You bite your lip, and when you turn to look at him again he’s closer than he was before, brow creased waiting for you to speak.

You look at him, look at that little cut on his lip. The graze on his cheek. Wonder how it happened. You exhale slowly through your nose, brows furrowing and you blink a few times as you gather your thoughts. He thinks it’s cute when you do that.

“No one is bothering me. I just… I haven’t been able t’do what you did. As good as you did it.” You slowly spell it out, not wanting to say any of the crude terms, or even specifically have to own up to what you wanted. You said a millisecond-long prayer in hoping he would simply understand what you meant, but when you’d lifted your gaze back up to the blonde boy after shyly staring at your chipped nail polish, he was squinting one eye at you, mouth a little gaped.

“Yeah, uh— y’gonna have to be a touch more specific than that, honey. Know I’m a genius, but I ain’t a mind reader.” He leans back into the couch, relaxing once you told him no one was picking on you.

You clench your fist in your lap, looking up at the ceiling in despair as if the answer to your problems was up there. You drop your eyes back to JJ, the cause and true answer to your problem and brace yourself. “I haven’t been able to… touch myself as good as you did it to me. Tried all night Jayj, even started crying ‘cos I couldn’t do it right. Just feel all… empty since we last did it.” Your bottom lip pushes out and you curl your legs up so you could wrap your arms around them, physically making yourself as small as possible seeing as you’d wanted to disappear into the couch in that moment.

For once, JJ is lost for words.

You can’t handle the silence as he stares at you, contemplating his next action. So, you speak again. “Sorry Jayj… j’st need you to do everything for me.” You look so pitiful, it’s sweet in a kicked puppy kind of way. He’d like to consider himself a helpful kinda guy, infact he knew he was— he wouldn’t be in half the shit John B dragged him into every single day if he wasn’t constantly putting his ass on the line to help him. This was no different, this was risky. He could break up a happy family, ruin things for his dad if he got caught doing this. God, he’s such a troublemaker it made him want you more.

“Look,” He speaks, closing his eyes and fixing his hat on his head. He speaks your name softly and it just sounds better on his tongue than anyone else’s. You squish your thighs together, preparing to be shut down. Your face is all pained, and he realises you’ve come to him practically begging him to touch you because you’re hurting without him. His dick jumps in his shorts. “I’ve been tryin’ t’do the right thing. Y’know? S’not easy. When you walk around looking like that. Looking at me like that. You think I haven’t been thinking about the last time we—” He cuts himself off with a sigh, scrubbing a hand down his face. Was he mad? Your brow creases even more and he thinks you might cry, so he scoots back up to you, draping an arm round you like you’re just a kid who’s being comforted after a scolding. “It’s really that bad?” He tongues at the cut on his lip. You nod, feeling sorry for yourself and he exhales slowly out his nose. He thinks for a bit, and then just stares at you for a while. He think he might even kiss you, but then he speaks. “Lie back.”

You’re happy as a clam when you scoot back on the couch, happy you’re getting some special attention from your step brother. “Oh yeah, all smiles now huh.” He tsks playfully. You lean your back against the armrest, bringing your knees up and spreading your legs just a little. He rubs his hands over his face again in preparation before he turns his body to face you, immediately dropping down his gaze to see the wet patch in your shorts.

“Lord have mercy.” He shakes his head, a hand pressing thoughtlessly to the back of your thigh, spreading you wider. “Whyyyy do you do this to me?” He sighs under his breath, ever so casually pressing a thumb between your clothed folds, fat lips swallowing the fabric of your shorts. You suck in a breath, and release it with a whimper and his eyes leave your crotch to look at you analytically as you do so. “Jesus, alright. Take these off.” he taps the side of your hip, signalling to your shorts and you wriggle out of them, unsure what to do with them so you clutch them between your hands by your stomach. He swipes them from your hold and throws them over his shoulder, busying himself with slotting a couch cushion under your lower back. “Wont be needing those.”

“JJ, might need them incase someone comes in!” You whine, but he ignores you, stroking your thighs and squishing the dough of them, spreading your legs to witness your glossy, honeyed treasure between them.

“If someone comes in, we’re screwed as it is, shorts aren’t gonna save you.” He murmurs, adjusting himself in his pants, rock hard already. “Show me what you were doin’ and I’ll uh, I’ll try and teach you, yeah.” The blonde tried to keep his voice level, feeling better about himself if he kept this purely educational, just helping you learn your downstairs a little better.

You resist a whine, face already hot in embarrassment from asking. He watches your painted toes curl into the couch cushion, knees knocking together as you suck on your bottom lip shyly. “It’s okay, c’mon pop ‘em open again. Not like I haven’t seen it all before.” He cooes, coaxing you with a hand on your knee. You spread your legs, bringing your fingers to your lips and suckling on the tips, getting them nice and wet. You had to be doing it on purpose, this innocent act wasn’t gonna hold up much longer if you kept staring at him with those sweet doe eyes and pouty lips.

“Started like this…” You lower your fingers with a frustrated pout, dragging them down to your clit and jolting slightly when your fingers brush it, sensitive. JJ practically salivates at the reaction, watching you like a hawk, looming over you. He thinks back to the first time he touched you down there, and you got all choked up because it was too sensitive and you got all overwhelmed, clawing at his hand and saying it was too much. He recalls having to calm you down with kisses and tell you to just relax and let it happen. He’s been with quite a few ladies over time, whether it be at pogue parties, ex flings or FWB’s— none quite as sensitive as you though. None quite lovable as you either. He can’t believe he’s thinking that.

He watches you pant, his coarse fingers stroking your leg whilst you grind away at your clit, focused and letting out sweet little squeaks in response. “Pretty girl, aren’t you? Man, you’re so worth all the trouble.” He speaks quietly, intimately. You felt special when he spoke like this, never a time where JJ isn’t revelling in his bravado, loud and jokey, forever performing to deflect from his issues. You got calm JJ, intimate JJ, your very own.

You were already making a mess of yourself, so it didn’t take long until your fingers were curling down toward your hole, spreading your folds as you pushed them downward. You wasn’t too sure if that was for your pleasure, or for JJ’s view but it made you feel good regardless. You sink a finger in, eyes flitting up to watch your step-brothers reaction, clenching around your single digit when his eyes leave your pussy to look straight into yours. “There y’go.” He hums, and you get to work.

He see’s your frustration around 15 seconds in, when you just can’t get the right angle. You fidget, moving your wrist about, tilting your hips up a little— but after a while all you can do is let out a sad whine, looking to JJ for help. He gives in hilariously fast. “Okay, alright, lemme do it.” But he doesn’t start without gently taking your wrist and bringing your fingers to his mouth, briefly sucking off any remnants of you lingering on your wet fingers. “Real sweet, just like I remember.” He muses, making you trickle out more arousal from the way you clenched around nothing.

His breath catches in his throat when he slides his fingers up and down your folds, spreading them and taking the sight of you in. It wasn’t until you spoke up with a pained “Please!” that he swivelled his hand around, fingers pressing against your wanting hole.

“Lemme in, pretty. Thats it, g’nna need you to relax just a little, yeah?” He pushes a finger in and even then you feel the stretch, much bigger than your finger— and you still weren’t used to it. “Thats my girl.” He lets slip, and his eyes flicker to yours guiltily at the sentiment, only to see your brows pinched and jaw slightly agape, ruined cunt fluttering around his finger. “T’aww.” He cooes quietly, returning his eyes to the task at hand.

He lets the ball of his hand smush to your clit so you can grind on it, and at the feeling your knee jerks up a little, letting out a pleased yelp of surprise. “Shh, shh, shh.” His brow creases, a free hand holding your knee to keep you open. “Just take it baby, there you go.” He was really getting into it now, his pupil swallowing his eye, something darker about the way he stared at you in the dim light of the living room. He slides in another finger, and the coil in your stomach is already starting to tighten.

“A-already g’nna cum soon, Jayj!” You whine and he grins like an old happy dog, the brink of a laugh, wide lipped and toothy.

“Thats the point, right?” He teases, but you don’t take him in, eagerly humping your hips up into his hand, small and needy ‘please!’s spilling from your mouth. “What’ja need? I’m right here, babe.” His free hand strokes your waist now, thumb sliding along your skin to soothe you, possibly keep you quiet and calm.

“Closer.” Your lashes flutter, tears welling beneath them making the dark clusters kiss at the corners, bonded by the shimmering drops threatening to fall. “Want you closer.” You’re looking— no, staring at his mouth and he knows what you want specifically. He doesn’t care anymore, what’s a little kissing between step-siblings? Suppose it doesn’t matter when his fingers are buried into your cunt collecting a pearly ring around his knuckles.

“C’mere, sweetheart.” He grits his teeth, fingers going at your more vigorously once he leans over you, simply breathing hot air onto your lips for a moment before pushing his own against yours. You feel the cut on his bottom lip skim yours and instinctively your tongue lulls out to lick it, wanting to taste anything he had to offer. You felt depraved, your shame quickly fleeting as JJ drew you closer to your orgasm. You feel so dirty when you suck on his tongue, just the way he taught you last time, eliciting a groan from deep in his throat. God, you wanted him deep in your throat, wanted to taste him everywhere, devour everything he had to offer. How could you go from a naive young girl who knows nothing of intimacy to this little desperate slut all from a few kisses and JJ’s magic fingers (As he so charmingly named them) You were starting to think it was in you all this time.

“Good girl. Can feel it comin’, just gotta let it go n’relax. M’here now.” He groans into your mouth, fingers brushing that soft gooey spot deep in your core making you cry out. He had to pacify you with more kisses, wondering what it would take to get you over that finish line. He stalls, leaving gentle kisses across your jaw as you mewl, trying to find the right words to say. He knew it was words you needed, preening and practically folding in half for him anytime the blonde directed any praise towards you at all, even as simple as a “Good job!” in a day to day basis.

It was risky, but he thought he’d try something kind of sick. Test the waters a little.

“Gotta stay quiet, baby. Don’t wanna wake up your mom now do you? Probably better off no one sees your big brother helpin’ you get that pretty pussy off, huh?”

You’re clenching so hard it nearly pushes his fingers out. God, you’re both sick.

Just like that, you’re gushing, sweet moans and hiccups swallowed by JJ’s desperate mouth as he silences you by force, letting you ride out that orgasm you so desperately needed. “I know, I know, you’re alright.” He cooes as you do so, dropping kisses in where he can because he know the moment to do so will be gone soon enough, and the guilt will kick in. For now though, he enjoys the moment, enjoys the closeness, and for a second — he can pretend you’re all his, his girl — and not a step-relative. It makes his heart clench.

[lottiies]

RESTORING NATURAL BEAUTY

ᡣ𐭩 Pure fluff!! Leon takes your makeup off for you

WC: 700+

NOTE: this is completely self indulgent because i do in fact love doing a full face of makeup it’s so fun (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) um lowkey think the tags are pretty dead right now but it’s okay idm

MASTERLIST

Putting makeup on is always fun, but laziness sets in whenever the time to wash it all off arrives. You wish you could cover your ears and sing ‘la la la, I can’t hear you’ to the knowledge that sleeping with a full face was in fact harmful to your skin. But you couldn’t. The world is becoming more and more advanced but they still haven’t been able to create products that you can sleep with? What a joke.

You’re cuddling with Leon, smushing yourself against his chest, your dolled up face threatening to smudge foundation and powder all over his shirt.

“I’m so tired, Leon. I wanna go to sleep.”

“And what’s stopping you?”

“This.” You say in a grumpy tone, lifting your face and looking up at him through your false lashes.

“Ah. Don’t pout, I’ll take it off for you.” He smiled fondly at you, holding you as he stood up from the bed. Leon was well aware you didn’t want to get up, so he easily scooped you into his strong arms, carrying you over to the bathroom and setting you down on the closed lid of the toilet. You didn’t even have to move an inch or ask him to do anything. What a man.

Leon hadn’t known much about makeup removal prior to dating you, but he was pretty much an expert now. Micellar water, cleanser, face wash, and then tons of kisses to your face was the solution. He was smart, a quick learner, he was sure he even knew how to apply your makeup just the way you liked it at this point just by observing you. His hands were steady, they had to be in order for him to have a good aim when the world was in peril…surely doing your makeup wouldn’t be too difficult, right?

He washed his hands thoroughly then pat them before going over to you, the scent of soap lingered on his skin.

“Close your eyes, princess.” Once you did, he carefully took your falsies off. He always felt a bit uneasy at this step, what if he hurt you or accidentally pulled your actual lashes off? He’d never hear the end of it.

He put some micellar water onto a cotton pad. One of his hands held onto your jaw oh so gently, making you tilt your head back a bit. He couldn’t resist, leaning down momentarily to steal a kiss from your pouty lips, you were always so sulky when you were tired. But his sweet gesture made you smile.

“There’s my girl, you’re so pretty when you smile.”

“So I’m not pretty when I’m not smiling?”

“You’re cute when you’re sulking and pretty when you smile.”

“What about when I’m mad?”

“Adorable. Like…” He tried to come up with an example. “When a kitten tries to scratch at you but it’s too cute to do any damage.”

Silence followed, you couldn’t make a comeback so you just changed the topic instead. Typical.

“Would you ever let me do your eyeliner?” You asked, relishing the way he tilted your face side to side to ensure he was running the cotton pad over all areas of your face.

“Mm…” He hummed in thought, purposely taking a long time to answer. “Yeah, I would. Why? You wanna make me look all pretty like you?”

“You’re already really pretty, silly. I’ve always told you that you’d totally rock the eyeliner look.”

He would. Eye makeup would look amazing on him. Or maybe having that cute cupid’s bow of his be more pronounced with some lip liner. You secretly hoped he would never ask you to put foundation on him though, maybe you were being a bit hypocritical but you internally couldn’t help it! Leon was crafted with so many dreamy details. You were blessed enough to have the chance to see them up close and adore them. The faint set of wrinkles between his brows from the stress of his job that made him furrow his eyebrows all the time, all the little acne scars and skin imperfections he held. You’d be devastated if he hid them all. But the most he has asked is for you to use concealer on his eye-bags.

“Maybe tomorrow then, if you’re up for it?”

“Okay! Um, I might mess up a bit though…my hand gets all shaky.”

“That’s what this micellar water is for, isn’t it?”

He rubbed off all your makeup, admiring all your natural features that shone through. Leon had always been attracted to your talent of applying makeup, having watched you switch styles and improve over time. He always liked sitting with you as you did your makeup, you always acted like you were doing some type of YouTube tutorial and he found it so fucking cute. Like, he would smooch you over and over if he wouldn’t be putting your routine into jeopardy. The surge of affection that rushed through him when he laid eyes on your bare face was indescribable.

Gorgeous. Cute. Pretty. Beautiful. All of the above, he wished there was a word that combined all of those into one.

[crowleysgirl56]

Ok, so I wanted to do a deeper dive into this particular passage of Good Omens:

For context, this is at the climax of the book, they’re at Tadfield airbase, the horsemen have been dispensed with, Aziraphale has his body back, and Satan is about to claw his way out of the pit.

In most of the proceeding chapters involving Crowley it talks a lot about how scared Crowley is. He is very scared of Hell.

One could perhaps say maybe he is scared of them due to The Arrangement, but that is never explicitly stated. I think it has more to do with Hell is bad, and Crowley has spent the majority of the book being yelled at by some entity through the radio or TV telling him how he’s going to be in super amounts of trouble when they get their hands on him. He is just scared of what will happen. When he comes across the book shop burning he doesn’t cry for his lost friend. He curses Aziraphale, and I think it’s because the one person who may have been able to keep him safe and protected from Hell is now gone.

So when he thinks to himself (as shown in the above screen shot) that there is now nothing left for him to lose, this is why I never thought (upon reading the book the first time that is) there were any romantic feelings between him and Aziraphale. I know that technically he had already lost Aziraphale. But by this point he was back again, and back in his body. If there truly were romantic thoughts between them surely the idea of losing him again would come up.

I have read so much fanfiction, some old, some new, and what they all have in common is the detailed inner monologue of Crowley’s turmoil over his feelings for Aziraphale and how he doesn’t feel like he can act on them. In the book we get nothing of the sort, from either character. Even when they’re separated there is hardly ever any description of them thinking of the other except occasionally to frame a short reference to something. Reading the book I never got the impression that there was anything more than two ethereal beings spending time and proximity to each other and doing work for each other for no other reason than they’re essentially a bit lazy.

I think they’re only queer coded for the fact that there’s the line about Aziraphale appearing “gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitric oxide”, and Crowley is, well, very Freddie Mercury coded. Them being seen as gay together and all the gay slurs in the awful racist scenes of Aziraphale body hopping about in culturally indigenous people after the bookshop fire has more to do with the very typical 80’s/90’s trope of ���being gay = comedy gold”, than them actually being together romantically.

I think the reason why they were shipped so much after the publication however is for the same reason we ship so many male couples (or female couple) in modern media, why we’ve always shipped them: because of the complete and horrid lack there of, of proper queer representation.

If you’ve ever seen the magnificent Russel T Davies TV series It’s a Sin, there is a wonderful scene where the character Ash starts a job in a school library and the headmaster asks him to go through all the books and find any book that has queer love scenes so they can be removed. Ash then gives a most beautiful and impassioned speech (albeit it turns out the speech is just in his head) of how there is nothing. Absolutely nothing. There is nothing to the point where they are nonexistent. They are invisible. They are not seen. (Or like, something to that effect. I tell you though, it’s bloody brilliant).

So I think that’s rather the point really. You have two iconic characters, albeit supporting bit characters practically, and I think a lot of our minds automatically get drawn to wanting to put them together because of the sheer lack of queer couples. People have been doing it for years from Frodo and Sam, to Harry Potter and Draco (or Ron I guess), to Sherlock and Watson (even before the Benedict Cumberbatch show. Also as an aside let’s not get into how obsessed people got about Sherlock Holmes back in the day when those books were first published. The obsession was the reason Doyle killed the character off the in first place, then after getting letters from people telling him they were literally going to kill themselves, the reasons why he resurrected him again. Don’t tell us that modern day nerds are weird and obsessive. We’ve ALWAYS been like this).

It’s for this reason why queer representation is so god damn important. Why I still support the idea of Good Omens season 3. Because regardless of how the characters were originally intending to be represented in the book, it’s very clear now that they are so much more than “Just friends”. And we NEED that! Whether you subscribe to the idea that they will be physically intimate with each other, the fact remains is they love each other. They love each other immensely. And that comes from years of Terry Pratchett (and the other guy) accepting that canon and telling fans that it’s true. Because Michael Sheen made a choice and held a belief about how he saw his character and then David Tennant followed suit. That literally tens of thousands of fanfiction writers have decided the same.

So that’s my take. I don’t think loving each other was ever intended that way in the book, but in the last 35 years their story has morphed into the ineffable husbands that we now know.

What are your thoughts? Have I rambled on long enough to make any sense? Do you agree? Have I missed something completely obvious and gotten it all wrong? Keen to hear thoughts.

[s0ulryo]

Domestic König Drabble ♛*:･ﾟ

[König x Reader] Synopsis: Lazy mornings with König. Tags: Softish headcanon, kinda mundane, there’s no konig content so i wrote this in 10 minutes to feed the children, short, I forgot the other tags Notes: Prolly ooc n not proofread, konig is so silly and i love him, i also feel like i wrote this in a super weird format but whatever

(Reader is always gn unless specified otherwise.)

It’s unusual to wake up next to König, but it’s never an unwelcome occasion; what’s more remarkable is waking up before him.

König is a restless man, a man who can’t sit still, a man who struggles with sleeping for long periods. His job is demanding — and sleep is usually a luxury. So imagine your surprise when you wake up before him.

Shifting to get the sun out of your eyes, you continue to stare at him; albeit it might be a bit creepy to anyone else, you can't help but continue to stare.

It’s a pleasant sight; he looks like he's at peace. A heavy arm resting over your waist, warmth radiating from König's body, the soft glow of the sun peaking through your windows — it’s nice just to be able to admire him.

It’s nice to admire the small scars that litter his face, the way his hair falls over his face slightly, and the rise and fall of his chest. It's just nice to admire him.

You wish he could come to your home more — you wish his job weren’t so dangerous. He leaves so often, and you’re never sure if he’ll come back to you alive, but you know that it is one of the only places he’s ever felt like he'd belong in, so you’ll never try to take that away from him.

You’re just thankful to have moments like these where he’s next to you.

You shift again to brush the hair away from his face, tracing over his scars in the process — carving every single detail of him into your memory.

Suddenly, König’s grip on your waist tightens. Groaning, he tugs you closer to him, mumbling something in German before pulling you even closer into his chest. Chuckling, you try to get closer to him, letting him nuzzle his head between your neck and shoulder.

“Good morning dear, what would you like to eat?” You say softly, looking up at him.

No response.

“König..?” You say, attempting to move out of bed.

He lets out a grunt and tugs you down into his chest, wrapping both his arms around you — effectively trapping you.

“Let’s just stay like this for a while….” He says, shifting again to place more of your body weight onto him.

Smiling at his antics, you let out a satisfied hum; you snuggle closer to him, letting the warmth of his body and the rhythm of his breathing lull you back to sleep.

Mornings like these are rare occasions that you are incredibly thankful for.

[devilmademewriteit]

Dark Paradise

part 3 of Salvatore

read part 1, Salvatore, here

read part 2, Playing Dangerous, here

pairing: javier peña x afab!fem!reader

summary: left alone in javi’s bed, you go looking for distractions. finding them only leads you further into his world: a world of danger and violence, where no one can protect anyone.

warnings: rough sex/smut (fingering, fem penetration, super SUPER light choking) so 18+ only content; pet names (cariño, hermosa, querida, sweetheart, baby) afab fem reader; reader is American; mentions of hair pulling; allusions to SA; attempted SA against reader (not by javi); violence against reader (hitting, slapping, manhandling); smoking; dubcon (power imbalance, trauma sex??).

word count: 7k+

no use of y/n in this fic

u guys. it is here. and the most exciting part is I can already promise u a part 4!! pls be mindful that this part is darker than the rest. it has many triggering themes, so many sure u read the warnings & stay on the safe side of things.

as always, love u all so effing much. feedback, reblogs, comments & asks are always appreciated, & don’t forget to join the taglist in my pinned post !

-em<3

��

No one compares to you. I’m scared that you won’t be waiting on the other side.

- Dark Paradise

“Girl, where did you go?”

You’re on the landline with Carrie, one of the few half-friends you'd made living in Medellín, thighs sore and bruised from the backseat-loving you’d received the night before. While Javi’s at work, you’re on (his words) 'house arrest,' and lounging alone in his apartment feels eerily quiet. The occasional car drives by—you try not to listen for the sound of scraping tires.

So, around 9:30, you’d decided to fill the silent space with a bit of vapid conversation, realizing that last night's antics (and your unexplained disappearance) may have caused a bit of confusion.

You start by filling Carrie in on the generalities: the guns, the car, and the rescue, at first planning to leave out the more… personal details.

Like the one you'd filed away under 'Riding a Cop to High Heaven in the Backseat of his Jeep.'

You also leave out the part where, afterwards, you’d kicked off your heels by his front door, let down your hair in a sloppy, half-drunk movement, made a beeline to the familiar crinkles and folds of his unmade bed, and swiftly passed out in his embrace.

Oh, to fall asleep between those arms for the rest of eternity.

Given your more cynical—okay, borderline self-denying—approach to life, you felt downright ashamed of how much you’d enjoyed it. How much you’d enjoyed him and all of his lasting touches.

And in the morning… Javi’s hardness biting into your hip was a more efficient wake-up-call than the trial nuke sirens back home; the soft kisses laid down the length of your neck and the long, lazy fingers creeping down your abdomen had you surging to consciousness with embarrassing speed. You’d shivered into wakefulness, flattened against his chest.

“Good morning, cariño.” His words were molasses, melted caramel, thick and damp with sleep.  

“Hmmmh,” was your only reply, sloping into your highest octaves as his hand sank to push aside your already-ruined underwear, dipping lower to toy with the switch only he knew how to turn on best. Arching into his spine, last night’s dress crumpled up above your waist, leaving him to feel more, more, more of you.  

“Thought it would take more convincing,” he breathed against your shoulder, a breeze of late august air.

“Wh’time z’it?”  

“We have time, cariño, we have time.”

When his digits pulled a moan from your lips, no other answers really mattered. He’d loosed that deep, guttural rumble of approval that made your chest swell with pride, your legs part in service and need.  

“Can you hold this leg up for me, baby? S’all you need to do.” He’d helped fold up your knee, and you’d turned to meet him with pleading, drooping eyes, dutifully contorting to mold into the shape of his body. “Perfect, baby, good job,” a rough kiss to your temple, “n’I can do the rest, hermosa—I’ll do the rest.”  

He slid in effortlessly, harmonizing to your sigh of relief with a “shit, s’wet,” and sheathing his cock between the folds of your morning slick. Brows furrowing, mouth falling open, you had every detail of your bliss etched on your expression, all for the beautiful man looming over you. “Always fuckin’ askin’ for it, huh, sweetheart?” He'd mused. “Woke me up moanin’ in your sleep, cariño—dreamin’ about last night?”  

An “mhmm,” was all you could muster. Javi’s hips rolled against your ass, and the resulting feeling of overwhelming fullness had you swearing you were still in reverie. When he paused, snaked his arms under your neck and around your waist, and pulled you flush against his chest, you remember it feeling like a dirty, desperate hug.  

“M’sore, Javi,” you’d whined at the stretch of your opening, the continued drag of Javi’s fingers against your aching, weary clit.  

“S’no excuse, baby,” he’d grumbled into the shell of your ear, pressing hard into that tender bundle of nerves. “Gotta get you used to it.”

A harrumph as he’d turned up the intensity, punishing you for your protests. “Y-you’re a mean-mean man, Javier Peña.”

Soft, gravelly laughter danced, twirled, traveled along the dip of your neck. “‘N you’re gonna come so hard for this mean, mean man.”  

He was right, bringing you to the brink of orgasm with the thick, rough pads of his fingertips, the tip of his cock sliding up and down, over and over, in and out of your guts.  

“Yeah—yes—m’gonna come for you, Javi,” you’d admitted.  

But he’d stolen his magical digits away, used them to turn your jaw, to square your face off with his own concentrated, lust-filled expression. “Show me cariño, yes—gonna be picturin’ that pretty lil’ face aaaaall fuckin’ day,” and you’d tumbled over the edge the moment he’d slid back down to the apex of your thighs, drowning in the darkness of his cinnamon-brown irises and the tantalizing circles—drawn from memory—against your clit.  

“J-javi—it feels—feels s-so good—”  

“I know, hermosa, s’just what you needed, fuck—”

He was already close enough, but your climaxing trembles and your whining, choked gasps had him wrapping his hand around your throat, pushing you further and further down the length of his tensing shaft.  

“Shit—you feel like heaven, baby, so good for me—”  

His release came fast and hard, leaking his hot spend into you, painting your insides like brushstrokes on canvas with his final thrust.  

He seemed to lay there for forever, softening between your walls as sweet slumber carried you off once more. “Go back to sleep, baby,” he’d advised against your shoulder (as if you’d needed any kind of encouragement), “Did such a good job; go back to sleep.”  

It was easy to accede to his command.  

You’d come to for a half-second as he’d placed, fully dressed, the clink of his belt and the crisp waft of his cologne rousing you to near-consciousness, a deliberate, lingering kiss to your forehead. “Don’t answer the door for anyone else, okay, hermosa?”

“Huh? Oh—mhm.”

And you’d vaguely registered a low laugh. “Good to know you’re so well behaved when you’re half-asleep.” His finger traced your cheekbone, dragged down to pull teasingly at your bottom lip. “Means I’ll have to keep fuckin’ you to the point of exhaustion.”

“Mhm—please." Squished and mumbled, guttural and breathless.  

Another soft laugh, and then echoes of receding footsteps.  

Waking up a few hours later, you’d peeled your sticky thighs apart, confused at first by the mysterious pool of wetness between your legs.

You didn’t bother cleaning it up, already feeling the loss of your DEA officer. You somehow chose to dial Carrie's number to kill some time on your day off (or else, you feared, you’d have quickly found another use for your bored fingers).

Being alone in his room leaves you feeling very young. Lying in his bed, thinking about the past night’s events… you feel giddy, like a highschool girl after her first time, and anxious, on edge without Javier’s protection.

You just want to gush about it.

“Do you remember that DEA agent? The Texan?”

You barely have time to finish your thought before Carrie’s cutting your question short.

“Sexy Javi?”

She giggles. You snort indelicately into the receiver.

“I never called him that.”

“You didn’t have to,” she returns. “I deduced it from the amount of times you ranted to me about his… callers.”

You fiddle with the telephone chord, smiling artfully to yourself. “I’m in his bed right now.”

There’s a slap. No doubt the sound of a hand clapping over a set of slack lips. And then—

“I thought he lived outside the city?!”

It’s a strange reaction. You’d expected something a bit more on-topic, confused at your friend’s preoccupation with Peña’s living quarters when you’d just divulged such an out-of-character, personal detail.

Well, at least the enthusiasm is there.

“No, he lives right by the embassy.” You respond, rolling lazily onto your side. Opening the top drawer of his bedside table, you grimace to yourself, taking in (on top of the empty bottle of men’s cologne and an old, broken watch) a box of tissue paper, a pair of handcuffs (not regulation), a smatter of sex toys, and a few scattered, unopened condoms. “That new… fancy building on the corner,” you continue, swiping a few tissues between your legs, trying not to giggle at the teasing Javi was in for tonight, “Carrie—are you seriously not gonna ask how it was?”

There’s a pause. You hear a rustle in the background; the sound reminds you of students in class, whipping out pens and notebooks.

Is she taking notes?

“Tell. Me. Everything.”

That reaction felt more appropriate.

It all comes bursting out of you—the night out, Javi’s rescue, your backseat escapade. Carrie’s an ideal audience, gasping and ‘oooh’-ing and ‘girl!’-ing at all the right moments.

When you get to the end of your tale, your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. Carrie pries for more and more specifics, keeping you on the phone for close to an hour. You don't give her everything (did she really need an approximation of his size?) but you do make sure to remind her, often, that Javier Peña was an excellent fuck.

Finally, the conversation dies down. Sitting up, you realize just how desperately you’re in need of a shower. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, the smell of sex, tequila, and Javi’s day-old cologne clinging to your skin, but his place gets hot, and you hadn't anticipated the need to pack deodorant in your purse during last night's going-out prep.

Either way, Carrie's become distracted, the length between your words and her responses growing with every passing minute. You notice a Spanish conversation taking place in the background, no doubt the reason for her decreasing attentiveness.

You’re about to hang up, launching into a polite, “alright girl, I’ll let you go” when she goes back in for more.

“Is he home now?”

She blurts it out, and you're a bit taken aback. Frankly, the urgency of her tone feels a little jarring.

“Um, no,” you answer, uncertain, stretching out your vowels, “I think he went in early today.”

“Good.”

Her clipped tone continues to confuse you. It’s… not playful anymore. It’s administrative.

Commercial.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh,” a flutter of shrill laughter, “Just wanted to make sure he’s not listening in on our—”

There’s a knock at the door before she can finish. You call out just a sec! automatically, pulling on your rumpled clothes from the night before as the receiver tumbles onto the unmade bed.

It’s only once you’ve lumbered over, wiped the grogginess from your eyes, once you’ve unlocked the door and twisted the handle—it’s only once your head is covered with a thick, scratchy fabric, once the world’s gone dark and a cry of surprise is wrenched from your throat—that you recall Javi’s warning:

Don’t open the door for anyone else.  

Something else takes over. Something primal. Fight, fight, fight. Find the flesh and punish it, scramble for purchase into any detectable, softer areas. Squirm until your legs give out, 'till your knees hit the floor and the beginnings of bruises scatter across your burning skin in a plethora of vulnerable places.

But when you thrash around like that, make sure your head doesn’t hit the doorframe.

Because then? It’s lights out.

—

The first thing you notice is the smell.  

Weed and tobacco. Wet weed and tobacco. It’s not a smell you’re accustomed to (you worked for the DEA, for crying out loud). It makes your already-pounding head spin, so it takes a second before you remember that you’re not safe—you’re not at home, you’re not at Javi’s, and you’re not with Javi.

Instincts kick in. Your stomach aches with fear, lighting you up from the inside, energizing every inch of your body. You wrench, pull, struggle against the restraints suffocating your wrists, binding your hands around the back of a rickety, wooden chair. You can’t kick at anything, either. Your ankles are crossed, squished on top of each other and secured by a firm length of (what you assume to be) rope.

And then the canvas is unceremoniously yanked off of your head, taking a few hairs from your scalp along with it.

You squint, blinking into the dim light, slowly adjusting to your surroundings: some sort of musty basement with concrete walls and floors, decorated by nothing except a couple of small, rectangular windows near the too-high ceilings. It’s completely empty—save for your company.

One, two, three strangers. All men. All Cartel, by the looks of them.

And all positively leering.  

The one nearest you, holding the bag in his hands, speaks down to you. It’s quick and harsh, mocking and cruel. Spanish and unintelligible.

Your hatred towards the captor blinds you; it coaxes the animal out of its cage. You spit: “I don’t speak Spanish, motherfucker.”

(Even if you did, the adrenaline coursing through your veins wouldn’t allow you much room for comprehension).

From the shadows, another man appears. He lumbers over to you, and you notice the peculiarity of his European-looking hat as he squats down to level with you.

He clicks his tongue, dousing you with a look of disapproval. “That’s not very nice, hermosa.”

You shiver. Javi had called you that before, many times. And even though it sounded totally different coming from this foul man’s mouth, shrouded under the veil of a thick, Spanish accent, it sticks.

You hold your tongue, biting it to keep from sobbing. The glint in his eye, visible behind his glasses, moves from playfulness to exasperated ire.

He sighs, stands, and grabs your hair, tilting your head back harshly to look down at you. “You’re very hard to catch, you know that?” He muses, darkness trickling across his features. “But you’re alone now, Americana. No DEA—no Javier Peña to protect you.”

He makes a mockery of his name, oozing cockiness as it comes spitting out of his smirk. You glare up at him, simmering anger and bubbling fear claiming you. Would they go after Javi?

No. They wouldn’t dare.

Only an American like yourself—low-value, replaceable, unnoticeable—was expendable.

“What do you want from me?”

He smiles, releasing your head and taking a step back.

“You’re the assistant, aren’t you?” And that deceptively sweet tone is back, frightening you more than his rage. “We need directions, hermosa. You’ve been in all the government buildings—we know, we watched you. Why don’t you give us some assistance,” he pauses, leaning down towards you, “And tell us where your evidence against Pablo Escobar is filed.”

You snort, unimpressed, shocked, and a little humoured by his little monologue. This was what they were after?

This was why you'd been fearing for your life?

A fucking… map?

“Find someone else. I don’t know shit.”

It’s honestly true. The bastards could not be barking up a more wrong tree. For all their criminal genius, they hadn’t managed to catch the fact that you really, truly didn’t give a flying fuck about the particulars of your job.

But if this was about Escobar—the Pablo Escobar—then these were men from the Medellín cartel. The same Medellín cartel that left scores of expendable bodies in its wake, that bombed, assassinated, and tortured government workers like they were no more than rats in a science lab.

You weren’t the end-all, be-all of this operation.

No, you were just another lead.

A lead that (only you knew) led to jack-all. Unless they were scrambling to learn about the best places to go out dancing or the worst brands of moisturizer, you had very little to offer the thugs.

The one with the strange hat—the ringleader, you decide—shares a smile with his co-conspirators, and you begin to regret the arrogance of your statement.

“There are many ways we can do this,” he warns, voice sloping down to a dangerous hum. “It can be easy…” and he lowers a hand to his belt buckle, setting every cell in your body on fire, “Or hard.”

It‘s a plea to God more than a question for your captor, your desperate, self-pitying: “Why me?” It can't be above a whisper, but the asshole responds anyway.

“It’s more enjoyable when we get to work with something pretty.” A dark laugh. “Who’s going to come looking for you, hermosa? Your family? Your friends? Your… government?” He clicks his tongue again, looking down at you in mock concern. “Like I said, we’ve been watching. You have a habit of disappearing. Running away.”

Figures.

Figures that the reason you’d wound up with your life on the line, your body in danger, was because of you. Once again, it boiled down to the lack of attachments you’d curated over the years, passing from one thing to another, quick on your feet the second they hit solid ground. For God’s sake, the only reason you’d made it this long in Medellín was because it hadn’t managed to bore you yet.

Figures that the closest thing to stability you’d been able to find was in the crime capital of the world. It was poetically honest, laughably ironic.

Of course, the American government would assume you’d fucked off—just another ditzy contractor swept up in the thrill of a south-American life.

The other part held water, too—no one would come looking for you. Your boss might huff about ‘these flighty secretaries, can’t hold ‘em down for anything,’ but beyond that, your disappearance would cause less than a stir.  

Somehow, that thought comforted you. The lack of collateral, the lack of another’s suffering… very little harm would befall the world in the wake of your absence. Peace was beginning to crest upon your settling soul. And, either way, you’d worked in this line of work for long enough to know that your death warrant had been signed the very second they’d seen you as a target.

You give the bastards what they want? You die.

You hold off? You die.

All things considered, you resign yourself, making up your mind.

Still, your defiant voice quivers as you say it.

“Fuck you.”

The ringleader smiles, like a predator cornering its prey, taking that first bite into hard-earned flesh. Your brain responds, screaming warnings in big letters, in flashing red ink. He barks an order to his underlings in Spanish, and the other two men come forward, roughly undoing the holds along your ankles, your wrists.

“Get the fuck off of me!”  

But they don’t listen, yanking you upright and shoving you onto the ground. Your vision becomes hazy. Something takes over, a protective instinct, perhaps, barring you from your own body. Distantly, you observe yourself fighting, but really all you feel is beyond. The words ‘I am not here, this is not happening’ wash over you over and over again, like a cleansing, salt-water wave.

Hands on cement. Clothes torn, destroyed—the cold barrel of a gun to your head, a man barking orders, hitting, slapping—and right as the worst is about to happen, everything just…

Stops.

It’s like they’re spellbound, bugs frozen in amber.

You hear the cause of it well after your torturers do. Footsteps upstairs, and gunshots, screams followed by the definite sounds of a creeping squadron.

The men get messy. Scrambling around, they gather their options. In your dazed periphery, you watch their eyes latch onto one of those open windows, 8 or 9 feet up from the ground.

A hushed conversation ensues. You're familiar enough with the more violent side of the Spanish vocabulary to string together their meaning.

“Shoot her? — no, the noise, they’ll find us faster — kill her? — too long — take her? — too messy — we have to go, we have to go, we have to go.”

Your ruined shirt is shoved down your throat, and then you’re gagging on it, ankles bound once more, shaking and naked on the freezing concrete. The trio uses the little wooden chair to frantically sneak out of the window.

It would be downright comical if you weren’t so terrified.

Soon, you’re alone, choking on cotton and wriggling to flatten your back against the wall. Centuries pass before the movement upstairs graduates to the basement below.

Relief doesn’t grace you. Any man—DEA, cartel, or Colombian police—would likely perform the same violence as your previous captors had planned to. A naked girl, roughed up and completely unprotected, in a dark, hidden basement, totally at their mercy… Shit. You were basically an invitation. A free meal, offered up to a different, hungry crowd.

You just pray that this one might be gentler.

The stairs creak under the certain weight of bodies in motion.

Tears run down the side of your face, dripping down from your temple onto the ground below. You compress into a ball, making yourself as small as possible.

The echoes grow louder, closer and closer. At this point, you just hope they’ll assume you’re an enemy or get trigger-happy and give you a quick taste of lead. Put you out of your misery.

Giving up was well within your comfort zone.

Someone gasps when they see you, and a single name hurtles through the space.

An out-of-commission part of your mind recognizes it—the name—knows it as a comfort. Still, you only tremble, trying to disconnect yourself from what must be a wishful, crafted, deceitful version of reality.

Then someone else comes forward. Your eyes, weary of keeping you in the dark, fling open just in time to watch a tall, dark-haired man push through the crowd of soldiers. You watch his expression—shock to rage, rage to relief, and then rage all over again.

He rushes you, falling to his knees before your wrecked form.

His first move is to wrench the fabric from your mouth. You croak out the most desperate sob of relief, all those stifled, unvoiced expressions of terror tumbling out in great-big-heaves.

“Are you hurt?” He asks.

“No.” You respond.

“Did they…?”

“No.”

Javi tears his big doe-eyes, filled with worry, away from yours, twisting to impatiently address the frozen crowd of four or five behind him. “Can somebody take these fuckin’ ties off?”

Switchblades slice through twine. Someone brings you a blanket, and Javi bundles you up in it, gathering you and lifting you in his arms. You don’t resist, clinging around his neck and hiding in the comfort of his shoulder.

“Hermosa—”

You regret the way you flinch. “Please—please don’t call me that anymore.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t ask questions, sounding a little softer, a little more unsure when he presses on, muffling the desperate edge to his tone. “Did you see where they went?”

“The window. Out the window.”

Most of the rest take to that almost immediately, scattering to start on their chase. Javi delivers a set of orders in his native tongue.

Then, he grows silent, carrying you through the house with two soldiers in the lead. “Close your eyes, okay? You don’t wanna see this.” But now that they’re open, you can’t seem to shut them. You only glimpse flashes of the upstairs area. Tables covered in paper, glass contraptions and coke, so much coke, which is almost more impressive than the quantity of blood splattered against the peeling walls.

And Carrie.

Carrie with half her brains hanging out, long, dark, red-soaked hair fanning around her crown like a rotten halo, lounging on the couch, fingers splayed and palms to the sky as if she were ready to wrap them around a glass of white wine—as if she were ready to catch up on girl-talk.

What’s Carrie doing here?

Should I ask her?

She’s dead.  

No, she’s not. She’s right there. She was waiting for me to be done so we could catch up. That’s just how she always sits—it’s just the scoliosis.

That’s why she always showed up so late to the club. She… she couldn’t dance too long because of the scoliosis.

You’re still debating whether or not Carrie would be up for a bit of gossip, another debrief, when big, strong arms lower you into the passenger seat of a Jeep Cherokee.

Javier buckles you in.

“We can’t go to your place—that’s…” and you trail off weakly, throat burning with effort. “That’s where they took me.”

He nods, his face a complete mask of concentration.

But you know him.

He’s holding everything back. You appreciate him for that, never wanting to hear a man shout for the rest of your cursed time on Earth.

“Steve’s, then.”

It’s your turn to nod.

—

Javier drives in complete and total silence, only speaking the occasional clipped sentence into his radio. Despite your vulnerability, despite your overwhelming gratitude, you feel guilty for taking him away from his work, from his team. For forcing him to rescue you once again.

For sure, he’s angry. Would he have to move? Find a new place? Leave all his stuff at the old one? Would a better captive have paid better attention, taken note of the exact direction her kidnappers had taken off in after clearing the window?

Soon, you’re settled against a couch, the light from the opposing window breaking in and dancing across Javi’s face. A blonde woman—fiery, familiar, concerned—hands you a glass of water.

Javi watches you, eyebrows notched together, lips drawn into a thin line as you take a slow sip in silence. The liquid slides down your throat, cooling and soothing the rips and tears there.

And they both won’t stop staring. Truly, their joint study makes you self-conscious, watching on with unapologetic intent as you shiver under the scratchy blanket.

Finally (thankfully), Steve's wife—Connie, you recall—speaks.

“You can go, Javi. I'll take it from here.”

“No.”

She looks borderline offended at his line in the sand.

“I don’t think she’s in any shape to talk, Peña.” It’s authoritative, protective, clearly marked with harboured resentment.

She'd make a good mom.

He scoffs. “I’m not gonna make her talk, Connie. Just don’t wanna leave her like... this.”

Connie looks confused. They share a glance, and an eventual understanding passes over her expression. In fact, even in your distressed state, you’re almost certain you catch a hint of a smile.

“Well if you’re both staying, we’ll need food.”

Javi nods absentmindedly, lighting up a smoke. You look away, still feeling the weight of his eyes boring into your ducked head.

She clears her throat. “I’ll be back in an hour or so. Remember to lock the door, Javi.”

Then, swinging her coat on, she traces an awkward line out of the apartment.

Silence flits across the room. The agent continues to study you from his seat at the counter across the room.

“Are you okay?”

You pick at your nails, internally asking yourself the same question.

“I’m just glad you were there,” you muster up, looking up at his softened, warm gaze. Concern etches a couple of fresh lines on his face.

Javi nods, taking a long drag. “Always, sweetheart. I’m glad I was there, too.”

You shiver at the thought of what could have happened if he and his team had showed up just a few minutes later. What shape he would have found you in, or if you’d ever permit yourself to feel the touch of a man again. Of anyone again.

“Why were you there?”

The question comes out of nowhere, bursting out the moment you realize that you hadn’t yet bothered to ask him how he’d pulled off yet another well-timed rescue.

It couldn’t have been in answer to your prayers—those had never worked for you before.

“Carillo’s been following Escobar’s cousin for a while. Zeroed in on the neighbourhood, but we spent all morning doing searches. Honestly,” he breaks off for a moment, rubbing at his temples, “It was just damn luck that we found you when we did. Wish I could say it wasn't, but it was. We were gettin’ ready to call it off. I had… no idea you weren’t at home.”

He blames himself for it. You can tell. In turn, you blame yourself for that—for his misguided, self-inflicted anger.

There’s more left unsaid.

“My friend—I called her this morning. From your place. She was there. She was… dead. I think.”

Javi doesn’t react, evidence of the years of gore, wreckage, and betrayal he'd witnessed.

You swallow, soldiering on.

“I told her. I told her where I was. Could she… could she have told them?”

Is she the reason this happened to me?

Slowly, lips pressed around his cigarette, Javi nods. “I’m sorry,” he barely mumbles.

Strangely enough, you’re not. That’s what you say: “I’m not.” And it’s true. “She was upstairs when it was all happening. I’m glad she’s dead.”

Now, he looks at you with a consideration that swells into a kind of respect. Not a respect, no not respect. A knowing. A new kind of understanding, of equal footing.

You meet him head-on with it, basking in your retribution, revelling in the immediate justice she'd been served. You’d mourn the person you thought she was when your wounds weren’t so open, so fresh.

"They wanted directions, Javi," you suddenly blurt out, voice hoarse, "Isn't that insane? They were gonna... they were gonna do that for directions. Not even the evidence, just fucking directions-"

Javi lifts his hands in the air, signalling for you to slow down. Normally, it would make you want to tear his arrogant head off. Now, however, you just do, although the silence isn't very comforting. After a moment, you can tell there's something Javi’s been avoiding, something he’s holding in. The agent clears his throat, finally calling it quits on his tiptoe-ing around the subject.

“Cariño," he begins, "I know you told me earlier, but I... I gotta be sure. Did they hurt you in… any way?”

God, he sounds so deeply wary, unable even to speak his fear into existence. You shake your head no, prompting his shoulders to relax.

“Okay. Good,” he breathes, crossing his arms and looking down at the rug. “Don’t think I could…”

Panic ripples through your frame.

'Doesn’t think he could' what? Bear to look at me, knowing the enemy had been where he’d been, done what he’d done? Touch me in the same grooves they'd left on my skin? Javi’s not that kind of man—is he?

“Don’t think I could forgive myself if anything were to happen to you under my watch.”

The rush of anxiety quickly dissipates, replaced by a stifling bloom of admiration and adoration across your chest. Like soft tendrils, warming your shivering body from within.

You smile self-consciously, scoff, and meet his eyes. “I wasn’t ‘under your watch,’ Javi. I opened the door. It was my fault.”

He raises his eyebrows, huffing a breath before ashing his dart, rising, carving a path towards the couch-cushion next to you and taking your glass of water from between your hands. It clinks as he sets it on the table. Taking your unsteady hands between his hardened palms, he coaxes you into meeting his golden eyes.

“It’s not your fault, herm—” a pause as he corrects himself, noticing your flinch, “—cariño. It’s not your fault.”

He waits for your nod of acknowledgement before pulling you into his arms. You let yourself go limp, dragged into the plushness of the couch and the firmness of his chest.

He lays a kiss to your forehead. He fidgets with your hair. He traces long, lazy lines up and down your spine.

How had you gone from that youthful giddiness this morning to this dark, anxious wreck in a matter of hours? It wasn’t even two o’clock yet.

The comfort your agent provides is good—will always be good—but you want more. Every inch of attention he gives you is just another step away from that cold basement, a foot towards freedom.

Time heals all wounds, and you want a distraction while you face those excruciating seconds. Something to move it along. Something to keep you busy, to keep the harrowing images at bay.

So you tilt your head up. Finding his lips, you press into him, shuddering when the rough hairs of his mustache tickle your top lip. When your body asks for more, when your tongue meets his and your hand drops to his thigh, Javi tenses, pulling back and breaking off the kiss.

“Sweetheart—you’re not in a good place,” he whispers, lovingly running his fingers through your hair.

You look up at him with eyes full of need, wordlessly begging him to give in. “I am now,” you assure him, tossing a leg over his hips and straddling his body. His expression darkens as you slowly chip away at his resolve, one touch at a time. “I’m with you.”

He smiles, plucking your hands from his chest. Every kiss he lays to your knuckles sends a ripple of electricity up and down your spine. “That right?” He muses between embraces. “That all you need?”

You nod, the pace of your shallow breaths picking up in anticipation. “When you touch me, Javi, it’s like you’re cleaning them off me,” you croon, leaning forward to brush your lips against his jaw.

“You’re in shock, baby,” but his hands defy his words, slipping down to circle your waist, “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

Slowly, deliberately, you lean back to stare directly into his heavy-lidded eyes. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

You feel him tense at that, his body hardening alongside the weight building underneath your thigh. He lets you go on, deft hands pooling onto your hips.

“Get rid of them for me,” you plead, grinding down onto his bulge.

“Make me all yours again.”  

That does it.

His hands shoot up to your face, firmly cupping your cheeks between their heat. Then, Javi’s kissing you harder than before, warming your desire up to a feverish level. You moan into him, turning to putty in his grasp.

He peppers kisses down your jaw and up your neck, allowing you to clumsily untuck his shirt and undo his belt. It’s frantic and needy—it’s pure business. You free his length from the confines of his clothes, heavy breaths mingling when you look down in tandem, hungrily watching your small, delicate hand pumping up and down his cock.

“Fuck,” he groans, his dark crown of cropped curls falling back against the couch, “You make it fuckin’ hard to be a good guy.”

You smile, spreading the slick dribbling at his tip around the head of his cock.

God, the sight of him never gets old.

“Good guys listen, Javi,” you tease, managing to pull off an air of sultriness, “Not just to no—also to yes.”

A lazy, roguish grin spreads across his face. “You are feeling better, aren’t you?” and he knocks a squeal out of you when he cages you in his arms, flipping you over ‘till your back’s digging shapes into the worn-in cushions below. “Gettin’ mouthy already.”

You giggle up at him, but all of your noises dwindle when a few rough fingers push your torn, ruined underwear to the side. You grow especially wordless when one separates your folds and makes its way inside you.

Javi gives you his signature look of condescension, of mock pity.

“What happened, sweetheart?” He taunts, thumbing that aching bundle of nerves. “All the ways I’ve had my dick in you, just this—” he makes a point to curl his fingers towards himself, pressing against the most desire-stricken spot, “—‘n you can’t find your words?”

Your throat won’t open, choking around your own pleasure. Instead, you nod with enthusiasm, desperately clinging onto his forearm. “More.”

He quickly accedes, pushing another long and thick finger inside you. You shudder at the perfect sting—the stretch—as your opening hugs his knuckles. Javi mutters curses to himself, angry and lustful, supervising your writhing form.

“No one else gets to see you like this.” He speaks low, sitting up to work you with both hands. Your body responds without your permission; Javi clicks his tongue and shoves you back down when your hips buck up. “Don’t deserve it,” he continues voicing his thought as if no interruption had occurred, “I’d have to track ‘em down and kill ‘em.”

His tone goes beyond protectiveness, easily veering into the realm of the possessive. “I-I wouldn’t be good f-for them, Javi,” you manage, wanting to comfort him, to calm him, “Wouldn’t—wouldn’t listen.”

“Oh,” he smirks down at you, finally pulling his fingers from your soaked, ready cunt. “Like you listen to me?”

You spread your legs for him, shimmying down until he’s hovering right above you. He strokes himself, taking you in with hunger, playfulness and… something else.

Something like devotion.

A smile. You stroke his jaw. “You come harder when I misbehave.”

He shrugs and nods, a silent, ‘you got me there,' before lining himself up at your entrance.

You whimper, a pathetic, pleading sound, when the head of his cock finds your opening. “Then make sure to misbehave.”  

He rocks inside you, taking note of the way your jaw goes slack, hanging open, and the way your brow furrows, grateful eyes glazing over, showing high praise for that feeling of fullness.  

And he laughs to himself.

“Needy fuckin’ thing,” he coos, settling into a comfortable rhythm. “Beggin’ for cock after bein’ kidnapped. I shouldn’t be feedin' into your crazy, cariño.”

It is crazy. But you don’t care, giggling along to his taunt.

“Just makes me feel so-so good, Javi,” you breathe.

“Yeah?” He coaxes, sitting back to tower over you, pressing your thighs to your calves; the new angle has bliss rippling through your centre, your back arching involuntarily. “What feels good?”

He shoves your hips down, lowering a finger back to your clit.

“Oh—God—y-yourcock—” he nods approvingly at you, beckoning you to go on, “your—your fingers, too.”

He slows his pace, pulling out fully before slamming back inside you.

“Look at it, cariño,” Javi instructs, steadying your hips once more. “Watch me fuck your pretty lil’ pussy.”

You struggle onto your elbows and obey, mouth slack and perpetually open. Pressure builds at your core as you watch every inch of his hard, dark length disappear, over and over, inside the shelter of your body. It’s so dirty, and somehow the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

“M-made for you, Javi.”

And he moans, an animalistic sound you’d never heard from him before.

“S’right, baby, made just for me.” He flattens his fingers against your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure. “Can you come for me now?”

You nod, grateful for his permission as soon as you start to feel your thighs shake. The tension snaps within you, and you tumble over the edge of your climax with a high pitched whine.

“Good girl,” he praises, low, deep, and bristling with pleasure, “Good fuckin’ girl.”

You ride it out. Javi shows no mercy, squeezing your waist and bouncing your lower half against him. His biceps and shoulders strain against his shirt, the sight making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

After having him a few times, you were well aware of his impressive stamina—Javi wasn’t going to finish without giving you another one. Nonetheless, the overwhelming pleasure has you squirming away from his unrelenting grasp.

He pulls you back against him, steadying you between two forceful hands.

And he fucks you harder.  

“Still remember them, querida? ” He breathes.

You find your voice, using great effort to stammer out a “y-yes."

It's not the correct answer.

Javi growls, “Then I’m not fuckin’ done with you.”

His shirt grazes the insides of your thighs, and you're certain that every part of his form is working to set your skin on fire. A skilled hand wraps around your jaw, and Javi leans over you, lowering his lips to latch around a hard, peaked nipple.

Your whimpers do nothing to stop him. He just keeps rhythmically rocking into you, the head of his cock reaching impossible, beckoning depths.

An almost-sob wracks your lungs. “S’a lot, huh? Takin’ all this cock inside you…” Javi shushes you with feigned sympathy, nipping and suckling at the softest spots at his disposal. “S’okay, baby, s’okay.”

Then he makes his way to your lips, forces you to kiss him—deeply—as your lungs scream for oxygen. He locks your hands above your head in just one of his own, the pressure of his weight the only thing keeping your squirming limbs in place.

And then his mouth is sliding down your jaw, his breaths hot and heavy next to your ear.

“Fuck—can feel you gettin’ close, sweetheart, gonna come again?”

All you can do is nod.

He rolls into you—hard and deep—forcing tears to pull from the outer corners of your eyes.

“S-so good to me,” you manage, seeing pure white as your third orgasm of the day blooms from between your seizing legs.

He groans, freeing your hands (which immediately find stability in the firmness of his shoulders) to clumsily wipe the tears from under one dazed eye. Above you, he resembles a hungry, lustful angel, eyes darkened with unbridled need, affection, approval.  

“‘M’good to what’s mine, baby,” he whispers, pulling you into the crook of his neck as he chases both your highs. “Come, cariño—s’right, come for me.”

And you do, aching, ruined cunt squeezing and releasing, fluttering around Javi. He moans a downright sinful ‘fuck’ at the sensation, reaching his own peak almost in tandem with yours.

Only once his every last drop is spent, once his groan and your whines have stopped echoing around the unfamiliar, open space, does he pull back from your neck.

And when he looks at you… God. There’s something you’re both not saying.

“Only wanna see you cry like this, baby,” he tells you, laying a long, lingering kiss to your forehead. “Never gonna let them—let anyone—lay a finger on you again.”

Your breath hitches, the words thick and sticky in your throat. The both of you are dazed, breathless, and completely wrecked. “I’m… I’m glad we met. That you—that we’re doing this.”

He raises his eyebrows, crooning a soft ‘yeah?’ as he pushes your hair from your face.

You nod. “You make all of it worth it.”

He’s appreciative when leaning in for a kiss, slipping out of you and groaning against your lips. You tangle your fingers in his damp hair, leaning up into him with every aching muscle in your body, wanting nothing more than to become a part of his whole. When he pulls away, it's only to tuck his softening length back into his briefs. He focusses on you again, leaning over to affectionately stroke your knee.

“Is it just sex for you?”

His question comes as a bit of a surprise—you’d never heard him speak so openly, so innocent and vulnerable.

You cup his face. Despite the fact that he looks like the men from earlier, carries the same guns and ammo, knows what they know, even speaks their language, he’s never seemed so separate from them, an entirely different species.

“No—at first, maybe, but now… No. Not for me.”

He eases into a soft smile, wrapping you back into your blanket before laying back, manhandling you to rest against his still-unsteady chest.

Those masterful hands comfort you in a million different ways. He plays with your hair and traces the highest points of your cheekbone. He massages your knuckles, pulls you in for little kisses, dips into the curve of your waist.

“How about you?” The question is small, even though you anticipate the answer.

He takes a second before answering. When he does, his voice is low, quiet.

“Not at all, sweetheart.” He tilts your head up, his soft, caring gaze probing into every corner of your own. “Honestly, I think it’s been more than that since the first time you said ‘go fuck yourself, Peña.’” He whistles under his breath, exaggerating his approval. “Shit was hot.”

It makes you laugh, but it's also enough to make your heart soar. Settling in to the nook of his neck, you breathe in his familiar, earthly scent, until the exhaustion of the day eventually weighs on you.

You fall asleep with a smile on your face, entertained by the fact that while you really should be a wreck, you feel perfectly at ease, wrapped in the arms of your favourite DEA agent. In fact, you can hardly remember what your kidnappers looked like—or sounded like, for that matter—succumbing to slumber, you only think of him.

—

Less than three hectic, hazy days later, you’re pulling a suitcase through the Medellín international airport. There was no sense risking it anymore—you'd have to be transferred to the States until the assholes were caught. Ambassador's orders.

Javi flanks your side, eyes peeled for any abnormalities in your surroundings.

Your heart breaks with every step you take. He comes all the way to the gate without saying a word, merely holding onto one of your bags (that he'd insisted he carry) in a white-knuckled fist.

You’re running behind. There’s not much time.

He doesn’t say he’ll call—knows he’s not that kind of man. You don’t say you’ll visit. You don’t say you’ll write.

No, all you do is lean up on your tippy toes to plant a tender, lingering kiss to his cheek. He returns the favour by cupping your face, leaning down and kissing you intently.

Too intently—as if he were memorizing the grooves in your lips.

Well, that’s what you’re doing, anyways.

Over the loudspeaker, your name is called.

“They’re paging you,” Javi translates, his breath hitting your top lip.

You pull away, doing your best not to cry.

“Thank you.”

It’s all you say—it’s all that needs to be said, really.

Thank you for showing me I matter. Thank you for teaching me patience. Thank you for saving my life three times. Thank you for wanting me. Thank you for making me wait for it. Thank you for giving me a reason to miss this place.  

Thank you for loving me. I think that's what this is.

He hears it all, stuffed and contained, overflowing from the two uttered words.

Then he smiles, that well-trained, protective cockiness spreading across his face.

“You’re welcome, cariño.”

You scoff a laugh, slowly dropping his hand and turning towards your gate.

“If I ever visit home…” he calls after you.

You pause, smiling down at the glistening floor, shaking your head. “You’ll never catch me in Texas, Peña,” you call across the traffic of rushing families and over-packed suitcases. He smiles knowingly, hands in his pockets, watching you leave. “Just lock the fuckers up so I can visit. The weather sucks back home.”

You slowly walk backwards towards the exit, ignoring a few flight-attendant-glares, not daring to break off the playful eye contact linking you to your agent.

“I’ll do it just for you, baby,” he calls, grinning like a fool.

Strange. You’d never noticed how the teasing, that snarky back and forth you’d developed together seemed to put him at ease—to relax him. All that time he'd spent, driving you to the brink of insanity... it comforted him.

And that realization was enough to make you beam.

You commit that final glimpse to memory. Javi—smiling, calm, alive, yours. It was rare enough that you felt sure it would stick.

When you finally turn to face the gate, to face your future, you don’t feel like crying anymore.

It was enough just to have met him.

Maybe—just maybe—he felt the same.

—

All my friends tell me I should move on

I'm lying in the ocean, singing your song

Ahh

That's how you sang it

Loving you forever can't be wrong

Even though you're not here, won't move on

Ahh

That's how we played it

And there's no remedy for memory, your face is like a melody

It won't leave my head

Your soul is haunting me and telling me that everything is fine

But I wish I was dead (dead, like you)

Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise

No one compares to you

I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side

Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise

No one compares to you

I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side

All my friends ask me why I stay strong

Tell 'em when you find true love, it lives on

Ahh

That's why I stay here

And there's no remedy for memory, your face is like a melody

It won't leave my head

Your soul is haunting me and telling me that everything is fine

But I wish I was dead (dead, like you)

Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise

No one compares to you

I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side

Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise

No one compares to you

But there's no you, except in my dreams tonight

I don't want to wake up from this tonight

There's no relief, I see you in my sleep

And everybody's rushing me, but I can feel you touching me

There's no release, I feel you in my dreams

Telling me I'm fine

Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise

No one compares to you

I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side

Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise

No one compares to you

But there's no you, except in my dreams tonight

I don't want to wake up from this tonight

—

TAGLIST WILL BE CONTINUED IN REBLOG.

Strike-through means I cannot tag.

TAGLIST:

@millllenniawrites @theicypiscean @pining-and-tired @inkedells @stardust-chords-enthusiast @mattmurdocksgirlfriend @bookofbees @liviloo12346 @anyas-stuff @readingsunshine97 @maudlinflowers @caravelofthesun @sullysflm @sexygaypalpatine @livyjh @s-unflowxr @lostsoldieronahill @chapterhappygirl @raeluvshammett @buckysmainhxe @silkiers @jupitersmoon-cal @queer-poncho @supernaturaldean67 @razrsharpwhiteteeth @peqchsoup @expir3dl0v3 @corrodedcherries @hawsx3 @monboudoir @theonewithacrush @pono-pura-vida @dzaga890 @killerrxger @ayehomo @niallsbunny @cilliansangel @snowyarcher @Eggnox07 @grnherbs @mswarriorbabe80 @tercabed @sweettea-and-honeybutter @julesonrecord @bbyanarchist @stxrgvsm @thisgirl-knm @pedrit0-pascalit0 @redhotkitchen @princessdjarin @isitselfishifwetalkaboutmeagain @pseudonymist @goldengrapejuice @soullumii @ophealiadrowning @kamcrazy123 @milly-louise @djarinsgirl @cowboychickenlittle

[gyusimp]

𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨 [𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭]

ᵀʸˢᵐ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᴺᔆᶠᵂ ᵛᵉʳˢⁱᵒⁿ ˢᵘᵖᵖᵒʳᵗ! ⁽ᵁ ᶜᵃⁿ ʳᵉᵃᵈ ⁱᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ⁾

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

I feel that Kenji's affection will depend on a few factors such as his mood and the length of time he's been in a relationship with you. As for the first one: If he feels stressed from work or in a bad mood, he'll probably pull away and you'll be the one to initiate some affection to make him feel better, which works most of the time. If he's really upset about something, then it would be better to give him space but that almost never happens, you usually help him feel better. And the second one: Kenji would be very clingy. If your relationship is just starting, it's probably still a bit difficult for him to show his affection because he'd still feel very shy but as the months go by he'll become more confident. The more time has passed, the more confident he'll feel and then he won't be able to be around you without hugging you from behind, holding your hand or touching your hair. Also, lots of short kisses just because.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

He would be a very reliable friend, you can tell him anything that is happening to you and he will always listen to you and tell you what he thinks or give you advice if you ask him. Kenji is someone who would answer your messages almost immediately if he is not busy or call you on the phone to see how your day is going and stuff like that. He would be a very considerate friend and always remembers little details about you like your favorite genre of music, how long you have been at your new job or what time you usually go to sleep.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He LOVES to cuddle. Most of the time he will be the big spoon but he also loves to feel you hug him from behind with your arms and legs and then roll over to lay his head on your chest. Something he often does is if he wakes up in the middle of the night and sees that you are a little far away from him in bed, he will simply grab you by the waist and pull you really close to him to hug you and wrap his legs around you.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

I think he's used to getting help with things and Mina's company could make him a little lazy sometimes but not too much, he still lives alone and must be a responsible adult for himself but if he decides to live with you then all the housework will be shared between the two of you and if there are things he's not very good at like cooking, he'll do his best to make you proud of him (always tell him how proud you are, he loves your little encouragements too much and secretly needs your approval to know that he's doing well).

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He's someone with a high ego, so in front of people, interviews or similar things he won't even mention the subject, he'll say that everything is still fine with him and he'll only focus on baseball and himself. But what happens when he gets home? He won't stop reading all your messages because he secretly still saves your chat, it's inevitable for him to cry in frustration sometimes and if the breakup was his fault he'll blame himself every day. It would be hard for him to get over you and even though he doesn't have any friends, he wouldn't have anyone else to talk to about how he feels, and he usually keeps everything he feels to himself to avoid feeling or showing himself vulnerable.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

I've thought that it's a subject that wouldn't be taken lightly at all, if he starts a relationship then it's because he knows the person so well that he even has intentions of getting married. He's not one for dating or casual encounters, he'll ask you to be his girlfriend after many months/years of friendship and knowing every little thing about you which makes him fall in love with you even more so when you're a formal couple he's already thought about marrying you one day and sometimes you both talk about it. He's not afraid of that kind of commitment so it depends on how everything goes during your relationship for him to ask you to marry him, it could take 8 months or 2 years you never know.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He’s absolutely such a gentleman, we can even see in the movie how he considerately leaves money and pays the bill at the restaurant before running off to find Emi in the city even though it’s unforeseen. GOD! IS THERE ANYTHING THIS MAN DOESN’T DO RIGHT!? and he’ll unconsciously do all that kind of cheesy stuff with you. He’ll open doors for you to go through before him, he’ll pull out a chair for you to sit on, he’ll make you walk on the safe side of the sidewalk while he stays on the curb, and a lot of forehead and hand kisses at random times when you’re in a public place and he’s reserved enough to kiss you on the lips.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He doesn't like hugs. He likes YOUR hugs, that's the difference. He seems like someone who might get uncomfortable with a lot of physical contact but if it's you then he has no problem with it. He'll let you pull him into your arms whenever you want and stay still, he also loves to hug you from behind when you're doing something else.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It won't be quick, maybe at first he'll feel a bit afraid to say it even though he really feels it because he's afraid it will be too quick but when he does it he won't think about it so much. He'll let you know and after that he'll feel calmer and he won't stop telling you every chance he gets.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

I don't see Kenji being a jealous or possessive boyfriend and since you love him so much you wouldn't do anything to make him jealous just to annoy him. If he does get jealous it would be because of people around you that seem to have intentions towards you or if some random guy sees you on the street, he'll hug you by the shoulders or put one of his hands right inside the back pocket of your jeans you know, little gestures to say "she's mine".

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

If he's tender, his kisses are usually short and soft but if he's more needy then he'll capture your whole mouth with his in an intense and needy way without letting go. He really likes to kiss your lips but if he can't do it for certain reasons then your cheek and forehead are still in his ranking, he loves to kiss your collarbones or stomach in more intimate moments. He likes you to kiss his lips of course but you always provoke a little tender laugh in him when you kiss the bridge of his nose or his cheeks in an unsuspecting way. He also feels how his chest jumps when you kiss the palm of his hand.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He doesn't really like children, you can see the look on his face when Chiho interrupts the interview at the beginning of the movie BUT he doesn't dislike all children. He might smile sometimes when he sees a baby doing something cute on TikTok or on the street, well behaved children who don't cause trouble maybe that type is more tolerable for him. Sometimes he thinks about what it would be like if he had his own children with you, they would be very spoiled but he would raise them well.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He is a busy man so most of the time he wakes up very early to exercise and train but when he has free time he takes advantage of every minute by your side. Our man hates mornings! So he is always very grateful when he can afford to sleep after 6:00 am and it is much better when you are asleep next to him and you are the first thing he sees when he wakes up.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

I think for some reason Kenji has a really high resistance to staying up late so if you're not sleepy either you two will probably just settle down on the couch or in bed to watch a few too many episodes of the series you started watching together or movies as well. When he's asleep his sleep isn't that heavy since he has to be alert for the kaiju alarm so if you get up to go to the bathroom, get a drink of water or whatever he'll wake up and ask you what happen. The good thing is that he can fall back asleep after that.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He's a little distrustful, not because he doesn't trust you but because he's afraid of what you might think of him. Remember when Emi breaks her arm and his dad comes to help him? The first thing Kenji says is "I don't want you to scold me, judge me or criticize me" (Something like that) So our pookie is always aware of what the people important to him might think of him about the things he does. Not to mention that it's quite difficult for him to express his deepest feelings or thoughts because he thinks that being vulnerable is a bad thing and he shouldn't allow it but after a few months of your relationship have passed and you've decided to tell him private or personal things then that gives him confidence to try it too little by little. He's grateful that you've trusted him to open up emotionally so he wants to show you that you're just as important but I feel like he wouldn't do it in less than 1 month.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He has no patience with himself, he wants everything to go well for him always but when it comes to you he is the calmest and most patient person in the world. Imagine that you are someone with zero knowledge of baseball, you have barely seen a few minutes of a game on TV and you never understand what the hell is going on. Then as someone more than an expert on the subject, he will sit down with you and explain everything in detail, looking for examples of a topic in which you are an expert to make you understand it better and so the next time you see one of his games you can talk better about the subject. It doesn't matter if it is something other than baseball that he has to teach you, he will do it with great pleasure and will never get irritated with you.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He remembers EVERYTHING. Your birthday, anniversary, first date, first kiss, first I love you. He has a good memory lol plus he schedules details like that in Mina so she reminds him days before if he has plans to buy you something nice. You never have to worry about him forgetting an important date in your relationship, he's always the first text on your phone to wish you a happy birthday (he texts you right at 12:00).

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Maybe it could be his first kiss, you would be the first person he has kissed so being able to experience it with you makes it even more special. Sometimes that memory comes to his mind and makes him smile immediately involuntarily longing to be close to you as soon as he can.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Kenji is very protective of you, but not too much so that it's suffocating. As Ultraman, he must take care of all of Tokyo, but you will always be his priority, although he worries that despite being a superhero, his lack of experience in that area is not enough to keep you away from all dangers, which often distresses him. He will always be there for you, from a serious danger where he has to protect you as Ultraman to running towards you to comfort you after hearing you scream if there was a bug too close to you.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

We know that he is someone who is financially stable (too stable) so he never has limits when it comes to you. Sometimes you are at work and you receive flowers from him, just flowers, but they came from the most expensive store in all of Japan. Sometimes you point out something nice in the mall just because but he ends up buying it for you so now you take good care of what you look at because everything you touch ends up being a gift for you later and you don't want him to think that you are interested in his money. You have told him that he doesn't have to do it but he continues. The dates are regularly at 5 star restaurants, weekends at the beach or abroad or more private clubs, mostly so that you can know more new things that maybe you couldn't afford to do so often but a date at the movies or at the bowling alley at the mall is never frowned upon.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He can be a bit obsessive about baseball sometimes, he cancelled a couple of dates to attend important practices or things like that, making you mad. You'd argue about it sometimes but he'd always try to make it up to you and apologize.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He looks like a fucking supermodel 24/7 who cares way too much about his grooming. It would be very hard for him to ever not smell like his usual perfume, even when he's sweaty after a game you can smell the manly scent of his deodorant. This man's bathroom is full of skincare products that he puts on his face every morning and every night before going to sleep, he has a sleek black jewelry box where he keeps his earrings, bracelets, chains and rings neatly and his closet is organized to perfection by areas where he always plans each of his outfits meticulously looking at himself in the mirror before going out after he's styled and brushed his bangs well. I can swear he has one of those little hair straighteners.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

I think Ken might suffer from abandonment syndrome thanks to his parents so yes, he is very emotionally dependent on you. Maybe he notices it, maybe he doesn't but there have been times where he doesn't feel well and would like to be with you for comfort but he can't because you are away at home and it is now night or because you are at work. He moves his leg repeatedly and tries to think of something else until he sees that you have gone out for your lunch break and he can call you.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He's the kind of boyfriend who loves to drop you off or pick you up from work/college and take you on his motorcycle. He puts his helmet on you and drives slightly faster so you hold on to him tighter. He also really likes it when he comes back from a fight with a kaiju and you're here, willing to offer to take care of him and give him a massage or help him relax and heal his wounds.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He doesn't like to kiss you on the lips in public or act too clingy with you in front of anyone else. First, because he thinks it's tacky or cheap and second, because he thinks it's something more intimate between you two and he feels judged if he did it and someone saw it.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He takes a bath before bed, always. When he gets home he gets into that damn tub with ice and then takes a warm shower, does his skincare and puts on comfortable clothes to sleep. He usually looks at his phone until late until you tell him to go to sleep already. Since he is tired, it doesn't take him long to fall asleep so he turns around a few times in bed and falls asleep but it takes him too long to get up in the morning since that's when sleep and the warm feeling of waking up tangled up with you hits him the hardest.

[thefangirlfever]

MIGUEL O'HARA x reader (18+, smut) MDNI

firefighter AU🧑‍🚒🔥🚒

Art credit: @kit-and-wolfe on Tumblr

Summary: You and Miguel are dating and he had hidden from you that he took part to a fireman’s calendar.

Notes: Just a silly idea I got from seeing multiple great firefighter Aus and a conversation with I had with @lazyjellyfish300 about Miguel! firefighter getting flustered. This story is a direct continuation of this post.

Tags: smut, F/M, AU, Firefighter AU, cunnilingus, PIV penetration, established relationship, fingering, no plot just smut, horny FMC, dirty talk (may be cringe), mention of masturbation (F/M), aftercare, breast and nipple play, hint at size kink, discussion around contraception

Word count: 3858 words

April was now your favorite month of the year. Most people would think that it was because you were excited about the upcoming Spring, the Sun in the sky and all those things, or maybe it was your birthday’s month. But you were unfortunately more pragmatic.

No, it was simply that the picture on your calendar for this month was to die for. Lying on glazed paper, in A4 format, a hand on his hip and his helmet on the other a tall, stupidly handsome man was looking at the camera with a bedroom look in his eyes. Firefighters have never been your thing, and you even considered it weird that a whole profession could be fetishized in a way or another but...that was different. You had to admit that you kind of see the appeal of it now. Honestly, this man could be anything else than a firefighter and you would probably still get the hots while looking at his picture.

Abs for days, rock hard chest with the right amount of thick, curly black hair that lazily trailed down toward a mouth-watering happy trail (that could only let you presume of a thick, happy bush), the infamous V-line that made his hips dip sensually under oily skin… Well, they really went all out with this picture. It was probably a bit edited but still...They even left his five o’clock shadow and the scar on his left arm. Good. Very good. That’s some professional job, you could tell.

You could have spend hours looking at this picture and still find new details about it. In fact the idea was very tempting, hence why your calendar was still stuck on the month of April despite being already mid-August. The calendar was pinned on your fridge and you could look at it every time you would cook or eat, which was exactly what you were doing right now. Well, at least you were trying because as soon as you would try to bring your fork to your mouth, your eyes would land again on the perfect picture.

The fact that you knew the model didn’t help at all your trouble.

You had met Miguel a few months ago through joined acquaintances and you didn’t even know he was a firefighter at the time. He would rarely speak about his job, not even to complain about it. And certainly not to brag. You quickly realized that he was quite secretive and shy when it came to his private life. It was very rare, almost impossible to hear him brag and he didn’t really take compliments very well. No idea where this insecurity could come from. He was quite a catch honestly, not even speaking physically. Miguel was overall someone nice and caring, as if his job didn’t already convey this trait of his personality enough. Maybe that’s why the two of you got along very well. When he was devoted to the well-being of most people and selfless, you were selfish, pragmatic and even a bit bitter. He was the type of person who would wake up at 4 in the morning to help the others and you were the type of person who after waking up at 10 am would shamelessly ogle the picture of a half-naked man, wondering about the size of his…

Your phone softly buzzed, taking you out your daydream. As soon as Miguel’s name appeared on the screen, you came back to your senses and picked up the phone.

“Hi…”

“Were you still sleeping?”, he asked with an amused voice. While most people would find you lazy, Miguel had simply accepted that your lifestyle was not his and that you were more of a night owl. This doesn’t mean that he wouldn’t tease you from time to time about it.

You rubbed your hand over your tired eyes and groaned into the phone:

“No...I was...eating...is there a problem?”

“You left your sweater in my car yesterday. I thought I could come give it back to you after training.”

Your brain took a few seconds to understand his words but when it did, your eyes opened wide and you jumped to your feet, scurrying toward the front door.

“You’re already here?”

“Well, I was in the neighborhood and I thought I could stop by. I also brought breakfast since I thought you would have just waken up…”

He sounded almost apologetic as if he had dragged you of bed. Your heart stammered into your chest and a stupid grin curled up your lips. Sweet, selfless Miguel. How did he manage to always make your cold demeanor crumble? That was a mystery to you.

You opened the door and there, stood Miguel, a large bag of edibles in his arm, your sweater perfectly folded in a small bag while he was still holding his phone. And as if the sight of him wasn’t sweet enough already, he was still wearing his athleisure clothes, ie a tank top and loose grey shorts. His skin was covered in a thin sheet of sweat and his brown locks were stuck to his temples and the back of his neck. A treat for the eyes.

The moment he saw you in your sleepwear, he turned off his phone and a small blush crept up his face. You were only wearing a short and a tank top but he didn’t mind. That was...quite a nice view.

“Well, you are definitely awake.”, he joked quietly as you made sign for him to enter the apartment. “I was afraid that I would wake you up.”

You could definitely wake me up anytime you want.

“No, don’t worry, it’s fine.” You grabbed the bag he was handing you with your sweater inside. It was neatly folded, even better than what you would usually do to your clothes. You might as well invite him over to share breakfast with you. Miguel gladly accepted and followed you to the kitchen and as much as he tried to be a gentleman his eyes would always end up following the sway of your hips and the very appealing bounce of your butt. He started to feel a bit tight in his shorts and this feeling only increased when he noticed that you weren’t wearing a bra under your top. He cleared his throat, trying to chase those thoughts away; it was too early in the morning for this.

“I found this small french bakery down the block and I thought you would like to try these…”, he said while putting down the bag on the central island of the kitchen. The buzzing sound of the coffee machine filled the air just when you replied to him:

“Oh yeah, I actually wanted to try this one. Thanks.”

And now your nipples were pointing under the shirt.

Great.

This definitely didn’t help the situation down his pants and he wisely chose to advert his gaze...only to fall on the dreaded picture he hoped you would never hear about. A rush of color filled up his cheeks and he was practically sure he wasn’t half-hard or hard at all anymore. What was this thing doing here?

You turned around to put his mug of coffee down the counter and that’s when you noticed where his eyes were. Not on you, unfortunately, but on the calendar.

Shit!

You didn’t even bother to put it on the right month. Hopefully Miguel would take it as it is, a compliment. But the moment you saw his brows furrow and his jaw tighten, you had a serious doubt.

“Hum...Miguel?”

He didn’t respond at first and when he looked back in your direction, he still seemed very ashamed, almost mortified. A pink hue was covering his cheeks and the back of his ears. Seems like you were going to have a lot of fun...

“Yes?”

You let the silence last a bit more before replying: “Is there a problem?”

“No. No...why would there be any problem?”

“Because you’re all red in the face suddenly. I was wondering if something was making you feel uncomfortable…”, you asked innocently. At this point of your relationship, he should know better. He should know what this coy tone meant but he still fell in the trap: “It’s just… Where did you even get this calendar?”

“Does it bother you?”

“No...it’s just...a bit tacky. I didn’t think you would like something like this…”, he replied in a sheepish voice. If you knew any better than this, that man was flustered.

“It’s practical.”, you simply reply with a shrug of your shoulders, dismissing the embarrassment in his voice. Miguel awkwardly chuckled: “Then why is it stuck on April?”

“Touché.”, you replied with a sly grin. You then took a sip of your coffee and his eyes wouldn’t leave the shape of your lips molding against the edge of the cup or the way your eyes still looked at him under your lashes, as if you were a cat playing with a mouse. All this little game was making him feel hot under the collar and he nervously ran his hand through his hair.

“Maybe...I just like the picture.”, his eyes were trying to avoid your gaze but they would eventually flutter back to the alluring shape of your silhouette. “Maybe...this is just making me feel curious.”

He didn’t need to ask about what it made you feel curious. Your tone was already giving him enough hints and he could only sheepishly chuckle, almost giggling while the red in his cheeks intensified. “You can’t be serious…”

“What if I am?”

Your blunt answer took him by surprise and you took this short moment to move a bit closer to him but still keeping your hands to yourself, even if the urge to rest them against his body was becoming stronger by the minute.

You had just been thinking about this these last weeks. Ever since you brought that calendar back home, all you could think about was the moment you would get to lay on top of him, run your hands down his abdomen, unto some more exciting territory, crossing every single line. The image of his body would haunt you during your alone time, making you wish it was his hands bending you, making you scream and turning you into some drained but satisfied mush.

His breath faltered when your fingers hovered above the soft cotton of his sweater. The fabric clung to his body, drawing out the shape and relief of his build silhouette, all in sharp angles and dips like some statue.

“Maybe I want to see a bit more..."

Your fingers trailed down his torso, from his chest to his abdomen and you could feel the way his heartbeat quickened as well as the way his body tensed and arched into your touch, yielding against your fingers. The hard contour of his silhouette was being traced, made more noticeable for your eyes and your eyes only. Your hungry gaze made him feel wanted in a way he didn’t know was possible; a special talent of yours. Standing there, still covered in sweat and fresh out of his training, he couldn’t believe you still wanted him. And yet…

“You want to see more?”, he asked under his breath and with a quick nod from you, he took your hands guided them over his body.

Your fingers soon slipped under the fabric of his tank top and you rose on your tip toes in an attempt to kiss him. Given the height difference between you, he quickly opted for the easiest solution. His arms scooped you up and placed your body on top of the counter, shortening the distance between you. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you didn’t waste a single second to pull him closer to you but you still managed to surprise him. He was not expecting for your lips to aim for his shoulder rather than his mouth and with a low groan, he welcomed the caress of your lips onto his skin as you traced your way up his neck.

The pressure of his fingers grew tighter on your sides as this make-out session turned steamier. Your nipping on his neck made him react almost immediately. His fingers slid down lower on your body and soon gave your ass a firm squeeze. He needed to get you out of these shorts and quickly. Your soft whimper onto his neck told him he was doing everything right and his hands kept kneading your soft rear while your own diligent hands removed his top, leaving your eyes free to feast on the sight of his after-work body. Every word you uttered seemed to get straight to his cock as he felt it practically twitch every time you would breathe a bit harder on his skin or tell him how nice he felt, how gorgeous he was.

“Lay down...just...get on your back…”, his breath was a bit more labored as he helped you lying down the counter. You were pinned under him when his hands finally lifted up your top, exposing your perky breasts. He had spent so much time fantasizing about them, this morning only they had been on his mind almost all-workout. Last night during your date, he couldn’t get his eyes out of them as soon as you would look away and they had been tempting too much since he entered your apartment. The perky mounds stuck out, resting on your chest like a crown, the tanned lines from your bikini making them stand out even more proudly. After a few seconds spent admiring them, he dipped his head onto the soft cleavage presented to him, not doing anything else than resting his face there at first.

Your hands stroked his hair, pulling him closer into your embrace and you began grinding your hips onto his aching cock. The shape of his erection was visible under the grey fabric as it strained against it, begging for release. He would wait. He always waited. There was no need to rush with someone like you. Even when he was alone, he would always take his time fantasizing about the endless possibilities of your body rather than bringing himself to climax quickly. There was no such thing as a quickie with him and today was no exception. He will focus on every single part of your body, take his time to taste it, to enjoy it to the fullest...no matter if it made his dick throb and swell with more and more arousal. No matter if he would end up practically whimpering while getting his face stuck in your pussy later.

Miguel nuzzled his face further onto your breasts. His face was smothered between your breasts, his lips occasionally licking and sucking on their plump flesh. Low growls would escape his lips every time his lips circled around one of your perky nipples, sucking in deeply, swirling his tongue around the rigid nub and the puffy areola. His hands were holding your waist where the hem of your pants slopped down, exposing your waist.

“Eres tan deliciosa...can’t wait to get more of you...”

His nose trails down the line of your abdomen, running over smooth skin while his thumbs rub in circle the skin over your sides. He tugged at the hem of your shorts with his teeth, silently pleading to get more of you.

“May I?” You groaned a small “yes” and he finally pulled down your shorts. When he nuzzled his nose onto your panties, pressing it right where your slit would be, your hips bucked. He giggled at your eager response.

“Sorry about that.”, you quickly apologized but he dismissed the said apology with a caress of his hand on your thigh, soothing your worry.

“There’s no need to worry.” He then pressed a soft kiss under your belly button and hummed, his breath warm on your skin: “You’re such a needy little thing sometimes.”

“I’m not needy.”, you replied with a growing blush.

“Mhh...who’s been keeping a calendar of half-naked men in her kitchen again?” His brow cocked in a teasing manner as he trailed a line of warm kisses all the day down to your entrance. Your breath hitched and you arched your back in response to his teasing:

“Are you going to remind me of this for a long time?”

“Yes.”

His hooked finger pushed your panties aside and he basked in the musky scent of your arousal, watching how your pubes glistened with arousal.

“Someone feeling jealous over there?”, you teased him which only earned you a chuckle.

“I have no reason to be jealous…”, his hands slipped under your butt and he lifted up a bit your body until your legs were wrapped around his neck, “...and I’m going to show you why.”

His lips dived into your parted legs, his mouth molding to the shape of your vulva as he suckled in deeply. Your essence spurted into his mouth, making you writhe slightly. His nose rubbed onto your clit while he swirled his tongue deeper between your slick folds. His cock was aching down his sweatpants, burning to be free and soon replacing his tongue.

As he kept lapping and sucking on your cunt, he slowly edged you until you couldn’t hold it anymore. The sound of you moaning and cooing his name was the sweetest reward he could get for his hard work; until you came undone. He could feel how close he was too to just climax, here and there on the spot. The sight of you, spread on the counter with your clothes ruffled and your puffy clit, throbbing and begging for more.

“Feeling good, mama?”, he softly asked while placing a soft peck on your thigh.

“Bedroom now.” Your enthusiasm made him giggle again and he kept placing soft pecks all over your face and shoulders while carrying you to the bedroom. Your eager hands slipped under the hem of his sweatpants and tried to grab a hold of his butt. As much as you liked this calendar, it was a shame it didn’t pay proper homage to the glorious work of art this man’s buttocks were.

Miguel finally let you go down the bed and slipped out of his sweatpants. He was rummaging through the nightstand, looking for the pack of condoms you always kept there.

You watched in awe as he tore open a condom and swiftly lowered his boxers. His cock sprung free, the tip almost slapping his lower belly as some precum already dripped from the swollen tip. His fingers quickly put on the condom and when he caught your gaze on him, he stopped, a sheepish smile on his lips: “Everything alright?”

“That was just the sexiest thing I’ve ever see you doing.” A sympathetic look took over his features as he crawled on top of you, peppering your face with soft kisses. It was probably the first time you’ve had a boyfriend who didn’t reluctantly put on a condom and who accepted that you just couldn’t put an IUD or take the pill. This was as refreshing as it was sexy and the delicate attention always made you feel grateful, no matter how much Miguel would tell you that it was nothing.

“How do you want to do this?”, he asked with his lips still pressed on your temple.

“I want to see you.” Your response seemed to please him a lot because he quickly obliged and soon you found yourself attached to one another, with his arms pinning you onto the bed while he kept moving back and forth between your warm walls. Every move he made was followed by a deep, throaty grunt on his side.

“Feeling good, sweetheart?”

You could only moan back at his question, wrapping yourself tightly around him as he was thrusting deeper into you. The heat between your two bodies was becoming unbearable as time went on and it only became stronger when he slipped his hand down your stomach and began toying with your clit.

“Gonna cum for me, okay sweetie? I want to make you feel so good…” The slight desperation in his tone didn’t go unnoticed on your side. He wanted nothing more but for you to remember this moment every time you would look at his picture. He wanted you to be as whipped for him as he was for you, completely and utterly transfixed.

“Miguel…” He knew what it meant when you cried out his name like that. It meant you were close and he made his mission to guide you through it with his fingers rubbing circles faster on your already sensitive and swollen clit.

“That’s it baby...just like that…”

Your body tensed and your grip on him tightened as he felt you reaching your climax. His praise didn’t stop soon and he kept placing soft pecks all over your face, especially around your furrowed brows, one thing he found adorable in these moments.

It took the two of your some time to calm down after this moment. Miguel had brought you back a towel from the bathroom to clean yourself and two glasses of water. It was a bit hot since it was the middle of the summer and he knew too well the risks of dehydration. However this didn’t stop him from cuddling with you, his arms tightly wrapped around your body, one hand tracing the curve of your hips, following the slope of it like a traveler climbing up a mountain. His eyes marveled at your body in silence, looking at the way the sweat had coated your skin. When he kissed the sensitive spot of skin behind your ear and playfully nuzzled his face into it, you squirmed a bit. But it was not enough to escape his grip and you just managed to rub yourself even more against him:

“Miguel...it’s already too hot. And I’m gross like that.”

Your words could have as well be heard by a deaf because he didn’t stop his kissing. In fact he even nuzzles his face lower on your body, his nose following the curve of your clavicle while he mumbled:

“You’re not gross. You’re perfect like that…”

You were glad he didn’t catch the blush that was blooming on your cheeks: “It’s still too hot for that…” But your protest wasn’t very convincing and none of you moved a single inch. It would soon be too hot to go out or even do anything at this point and your body succumbed to the promise of a lazy, indolent afternoon, resting in the arms of your lover.

================================================

Notes: Thanks for reading this story! I hope you liked it. it's been a while since I've written smutty one-shot so I needed some time to get back on track. Hope it doesn't feel too awkward.

🌻🌻🌻

My masterlist

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Sussex Survivors Club

Tom Sykes of The Daily Beast dropped an article yesterday about the latest Sussex employee to bail out.

There's some good gossip in the article, such as:

For example, one photographer who was requested to pitch to work for their wedding told The Daily Beast: “It was incredibly exciting to be asked to present for the wedding. I had to go to Kensington Palace where I laid out several mood boards in what was then their office. Eventually, Meghan walked in, took one look at what I had prepared and said, in the meanest way possible, ‘No.’ Then she spun on her heel and walked out. I was left in tears. It was horrible.” Another contractor, a florist, The Daily Beast was told, was “monstered” by Meghan after posting an innocuous message on social media trying to source flowers for a bouquet Meghan had requested they make. The florist vowed never to work with Meghan again despite the prestige associated with such a client. Harry, by contrast, has generally been seen as a considerate and thoughtful boss. Another contractor who worked at his wedding told The Daily Beast how Harry helped set up one of the bars in a marquee before the event kicked off. 

There's also a couple eye-rolly moments like this one:

Reports this week, in the wake of Kettler’s departure, have claimed that 18 people have resigned or left Harry and Meghan Markle’s employ since she married Harry, with nine leaving since they moved to the USA. However, defenders of Harry and Meghan would be quick to point out that some staff, such as James Holt, who moved to America with the Sussexes, have remained in post for many years, and point out that there is plenty of churn in Prince William and Princess Kate’s office too, but they don’t get accused of being bad bosses every time a new hire doesn’t work out.

(Eye-rolly because why do we even need to drag William and Kate into this to begin with? Oh, I forgot. Because Tom needs his paycheck and Meghan needs her SEO.)

Anyway. I was going to do a deep dive into the photographer and florist to see if there's any more details there but...18 ex-staffers seems awfully low compared to all the stories that have trickled out over the years.

So let's count them!

Kensington Palace Survivors

Christian Jones. Meghan was papped taking him to lunch, causing many to believe she poached him from Burberry and he was working directly for her; however, when the household split, Christian stayed at KP with the Cambridges. I'm too lazy at the moment to check, but I think Christian was one of the four KP staffers that planned to testify in one of the lawsuits, and I'm fairly certain Meghan's pissed at him about something (or everything) because Endgame ended up being a hit job on Christian.

Amy Pickerill. She was formerly Harry's PA but transferred to staff Meghan during the engagement and was so closely trusted by Meghan that Amy was given the honorable task of...airport duty? (Amy was tapped to pick up Doria at the airport for the wedding.) Amy is suspected to be one of the two PAs that Meghan bullied, descriptions of which Jason Knauf included in his letter. Amy quit working for the Sussexes, went private for a little bit, but was then immediately hired by The Royal Foundation, where she became involved with Earthshot, where Kate was overheard greeting her with "Well done, Amy!" It's also believed that Amy is the PA whom William was once witnessed comforting while she was upset. Amy is also suspected of being the aide seen crying (after being yelled at by Meghan) by one of the royal reporters; the reporter chose not to print this incident when it happened because "privacy" but later admitted it sometime post-Oprah.

Melissa Toubati. Formerly Robbie William's PA, she joined KP during the engagement and was assigned to the Sussexes' staff, where she helped plan the wedding and the Australia tour. She quit after about six months or so after the Australia tour, where allegedly Meghan threw a cup of tea and/or a pair of scissors at her, which allegedly led to a handsome payoff by the BRF and a NDA. She is the aide that Valentine Low described as getting fired for something she didn’t do, suspected to be related to a disagreement over Meghan’s accepting of freebies. Harry then threw her under the bus in Spare, writing that he and Meghan turned her in to HR for taking freebies that were sent to Meghan. (Thanks for the correction, anon! Original text left below.) Melissa is thought to be the second of two PAs referenced in Jason's letter.

did get a shoutout from Harry in Spare, who said that Melissa and Meghan butted heads over Meghan wanting to keep all the clothes she was given while Melissa was in favor of following protocol (i.e., returning all the clothes or sending payment for each item received).

Samantha Cohen. She was a valued aide to Queen Elizabeth, given to the Sussexes to help Meghan learn the ropes and whip their staff into shape. Samantha the Panther famously accompanied Meghan on her first (only) engagement with The Queen - yes, the hatless toilet tank engagement - and to Australia. Sam's assignment to the Sussexes was just supposed to be a few weeks, but it stretched for well over a year. Samantha later made private remarks that have since become prophetic, that Meghan had no interest in getting along with anyone (or something to that effect) and she has also made comments that Meghan often screamed at the staff (including her) and pushed Samantha past her breaking limit.

Edward Lane Fox. He was Harry's valued aide, having worked for him for five years and is largely the brains behind Invictus Games. He announced his departure from the Sussexes' staff a few weeks before the wedding, allegedly citing Meghan as the reason why he was leaving. He continues to serve on Invictus Games' board. About six months before the wedding, Ed gave Meghan a 30-page dossier on being a member of the BRF, on everything from curtsey protocol to fashion tips to advice about walkabouts to information about charities and public life. Meghan apparently refused to read it.

Sonia Lane Fox. ELF’s wife. I can't find her name or many details about her, but she supposedly worked for Meghan during the engagement and couldn't take it anymore. She left soon after ELF did.

Edit: I’m getting asks from anons saying that ELF and Amy Pickerill are married but that’s not true - at least not in 2018-2019 when all this went down. I did some insomnia research and found this list of Sussex wedding guests, where ELF is mentioned as attending with his wife Sonia (and here is their engagement announcement). ELF and Sonia could very well be divorced now and Ed remarried to Amy (but still, I doubt that because there would be mentioned in some of the stories about former Sussex staff); however, since what is known about ELF’s wife working for the Sussexes is dated to the wedding, this means Sonia and she remains a separate entry.

Unnamed Assistant. Bower discusses this assistant in Revenge, saying this particular individual once had to call Meghan after hours for clarification, which led to Meghan screaming at her "you can't do anything right, I'll do it myself."

Sara Latham. Technically Sara didn't quit the Sussexes, the Sussexes quit her. She worked for the Sussexes all the way through Megxit, after which she was absorbed by Buckingham Palace.

Natalie Campbell. Natalie was a KP staffer mostly well known for the work she did with Meghan's Hubb Cookbook (aka I think Natalie did all the work and Meghan just posed for the photos). It's not clear what other work she may have done for the Sussexes (or the Cambridges) or how/on what terms she left the Sussexes' staff.

Clara Loughram. Clara's an interesting staffer. She initially came into the Sussexes' employ while working at KP. She helped with the wedding planning and was the woman who gave Meghan her flowers when she arrived at St. George's Chapel for the wedding. She stuck by the Sussexes' when the household split and lost her job through Megxit; however, the Sussexes later re-hired Clara as a freelancer for Archewell, who worked on their UK projects but Clara has since left the Sussexes' employment.

Edit: Apparently Clara established her own company that the Sussexes continue to contract for support planning their overseas work, according to some anons. I’ll still leave Clara in this list because she doesn’t technically work personally for the Sussexes anymore.

Jason Knauf. The big kahuna. Everyone knows Jason's story. He was the Communications guy for KP, working with William, Kate, Harry, and Meghan. When the household split, Jason stayed at KP with the Cambridges. He advised Meghan on her letter to Tom and poked a lot of holes in her testimony. He also wrote a damning letter about Meghan's behavior towards staff that led to the bullying investigation, which was DOA.

Katrina McKeever. She was part of the communications team at KP and was said to have also helped Meghan with the wedding planning. She quit just before the Australia trip, allegedly over Meghan's harsh criticism of how certain wedding plans were executed though Meghan denies criticizing anyone.

Melissa Crow. She used to be Madonna's assistant and allegedly worked for the Sussexes but quit abruptly. There's not a whole lot of information out there about her - it's totally possible that people confused her for Melissa Toubati, but I'm including her anyway on this list.

Unnamed Female RPO. This woman quit after (or in the middle of) the Sussexes' Australasia trip. Many suspect her to be the blonde RPO seen escorting Meghan through the terrifying Fiji market.

Staffer Who Quit In Africa. An unnamed staffer who quit the Sussexes' office - or pulled out of consideration for a Sussex position - after joining the team for the Sussexes' South Africa visit.

The Midnight Nanny. One of the nannies hired by Harry and Meghan after Archie was born allegedly quit mid-shift in the middle of the night over the Sussexes' behavior.

Another Unnamed Nanny. If I'm remembering the details correctly, the Sussexes went through several nannies before finding "the perfect fit." I think there were three nannies trialled, including the midnight nanny (see above).

Another Unnamed Assistant. I don't know if this is the same unnamed assistant as the one further up or if this is someone who's already been named, but there was a second assistant who Tom Bower claims Meghan threw under the bus with her freebies.

Let's take a break for a second. That's 18 known staffers that quit working for the Sussexes. (Okay, 17 because Sara Latham didn't technically quit.) Already we've blown Tom Sykes's estimation out of the water. Again, 18 people that quit their jobs in a span of 23 months. But sure, let's talk about the turnover in William and Kate's staff.

And we're not even counting the RPOs Meghan pissed off by treating like her personal servants!

Archewell Survivors

Ben Browning. He was the head of content for Archewell and worked the Netflix deal. He quit after the docuseries.

Bennett Levine. He was also involved in the Netflix deal with Archewell.

Catherine St-Laurent. She's the Gates Foundation poach. Didn't last very long, less than a year I think. Not really sure what her role was. I think she was supposed to be like a CEO or an Executive Officer to Archewell. Her quitting was the subject of a CDAN rumor alleging that no one actually likes the Sussexes, they're just working for the resume credit.

Josh Ketter. Harry's CEO-assistant who quit this week after only three months in the position. The Sussexes are spinning it as his employment was only temporary. Sure, Jan.

Fara Taylor. She was hired to do Archewell's marketing but lost her job when they "streamlined" the Archewell staff. (aka they didn't have money to pay their staff.)

Rebecca Sananes. She was on the Archewell Audio side of things and helped Meghan with the podcast. She quit (or was "let go" - it's not clear which) after Spotify failed to renew Archetypes for a season 2.

Mandana Dayani. She's the big kahuna of post-Megxit, and the staffer who worked the longest with Meghan. She served in a COO-type role for Archewell, overseeing much of the charity work and helping Meghan with her personal brand development. Mandana did accompany Meghan to Uvalde. Mandana allegedly abandoned Meghan, leaving her high and dry by creating American Riviera Orchard for Meghan but not doing any of the paperwork or developing any ideas for product.

Toya Holness. Archewell's press secretary. She was said to be a mini-Meghan or a "Meghan in suits" (something like that, which didn't make sense). She didn't last very long.

Now, Tom Sykes said there were 9 staffers who left the Sussexes after they moved to California. This is only 8 people. I'm not sure who the ninth is - maybe he's counting Clara, who was rehired by the Sussexes post-Megxit? If so:

Clara Loughram. Clara's an interesting staffer. She initially came into the Sussexes' employ while working at KP. She helped with the wedding planning and was the woman who gave Meghan her flowers when she arrived at St. George's Chapel for the wedding. She stuck by the Sussexes' when the household split and lost her job through Megxit; however, the Sussexes later re-hired Clara as a freelancer for Archewell, who worked on their UK projects but Clara has since left the Sussexes' employment.

Edit: Apparently Clara established her own company that the Sussexes continue to contract for support planning their overseas work, according to some anons. I’ll still leave Clara in this list because she doesn’t technically work personally for the Sussexes anymore.

So in sum. That's 26 known people who've quit working for the Sussexes. There's probably a few more that we don't know about, both from the KP side and the Archewell/post-Megxit side.

Tom Sykes can go ahead and shove his "let's talk about Kate not being able to keep a CEO" talk where the sun don't shine because 26 people quitting is not the same as 3 people quitting.

[rosesareredrosa]

Masterpiece of Chaos ft Pumpkins

Slytherin Boys + Pansy x fem reader(platonic)

Summary: The Slytherin group attempts to crave some pumpkin..

w/c: 892

a/n: Sorry for being inactive just being doing so much work :(

The Slytherin common room was a mess. A fun, chaotic, Halloween-infused mess. Pumpkins were strewn everywhere, seeds were flying through the air, and the infamous Slytherin gang had gathered for what they thought would be a simple, civilized pumpkin carving. Oh, how wrong they were.

“Alright, everyone has a pumpkin?” Draco Malfoy asked, brushing imaginary lint off his pristine Slytherin sweater. He cast a sidelong glance at Y/N, who was fiddling with a knife in a way that made him distinctly nervous.

“Got it, Malfoy. Relax.” Y/N winked, gripping her pumpkin. “Though, I don't know if this one's up for the job. It looks... weak.”

Across from her, Blaise Zabini snorted. “That’s because you picked the smallest one, Y/N. You always have to be difficult.”

“Oh, shut it, Zabini,” Pansy Parkinson cut in, rolling her eyes while scooping out pumpkin guts with way too much enthusiasm. "Some of us appreciate the aesthetic of a dainty pumpkin."

“Dainty?” Lorenzo Berkshire chuckled, flinging a handful of pumpkin seeds across the table, hitting Blaise square in the face. “A pumpkin is supposed to be terrifying, not cute.”

“I’ll show you terrifying!” Pansy shrieked and launched a chunk of pumpkin guts at him. It splattered against his shoulder, and for a moment, the room went silent.

Then chaos erupted.

Lorenzo grabbed a handful of the mushy innards and hurled it back at Pansy, but missed and hit Draco instead. Draco’s eyes widened in horror as slimy pumpkin flesh dripped down his hair. “BERKSHIRE!”

“Oh no.” Theodore Nott, who had been quietly carving intricate designs into his pumpkin, tried to stifle a laugh. “You’ve done it now.”

“Malfoy looks like he’s going to hex someone,” Blaise said with a lazy grin, lounging back on the couch as if he was watching a Quidditch match unfold.

“Are you insane?!” Draco shouted, standing up with his wand in hand. His usually neat hair was now a tangled mess, plastered with pumpkin gunk. “You absolute twit!”

“Come on, Draco,” Y/N teased, leaning on her pumpkin as she carved a wicked grin into it. “It’s Halloween. Lighten up a little. You're the prince of Slytherin—what's a little pumpkin slime?”

Draco shot her a glare, but Y/N just smirked in return. She had that way of softening him up, and she knew it. Still, he wasn’t going to let Lorenzo off that easily.

Suddenly, Mattheo Riddle, who had been suspiciously quiet up until now, stood up and flicked his wand. With a sly grin, he levitated an entire pumpkin—unhollowed and huge—toward Lorenzo’s head.

“Duck!” Blaise yelled, but it was too late. The pumpkin hit Lorenzo with a resounding thud, toppling him over onto the floor.

The room erupted into laughter, Theodore nearly dropping his pumpkin as he doubled over.

“That’s what you get for messing with Malfoy’s hair!” Mattheo said, high-fiving Draco, who looked a bit more pleased now that his tormentor had been avenged.

Lorenzo groaned from the floor, rubbing his head. “Bloody hell, Mattheo. That thing could’ve killed me!”

“Consider it revenge,” Draco said smugly, flicking a bit of pumpkin off his sleeve.

“Can we actually focus on carving for five minutes without someone throwing a pumpkin?” Theodore said, still chuckling as he went back to carefully slicing a detailed crescent moon into his pumpkin.

Y/N tilted her head at Theodore’s intricate work, impressed. “Theo, you’re putting us all to shame with that. How are you so good at this?”

Theodore gave her a sly smile, not bothering to hide his pride. “I don’t rush. Unlike the rest of you idiots.”

“Oi!” Pansy protested. “Mine’s coming out beautifully.” She held up her pumpkin, which was… well, it was something. It had a crooked smile and slightly uneven eyes, but she looked proud of it nonetheless.

“It looks like it’s been hexed,” Y/N deadpanned, trying to suppress her laughter. “In a good way, I promise.”

“Shut up, Y/N,” Pansy huffed, though a small smile played at her lips.

“Alright, enough chatting,” Draco said, trying to reassert some control. “Let’s get serious. I want these pumpkins done before midnight.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Draco, it's pumpkin carving, not a N.E.W.T. exam. No one’s going to mark us on this.”

“I’m just saying,” Draco replied with a flick of his wand, igniting the candles inside his own perfectly carved pumpkin. It had sharp, elegant angles—just like him. “I expect quality work. We are Slytherins, after all.”

Mattheo rolled his eyes but grinned, placing his arm around Y/N’s shoulders. “Leave it to Malfoy to turn Halloween into a competitive sport.”

Y/N snickered, leaning into Mattheo slightly. “I mean, it wouldn’t be a Slytherin event without a bit of competition.”

“And sabotage,” added Blaise, nonchalantly flicking his wand to levitate Theodore’s pumpkin knife just as Theo was about to make another precise cut. The blade jerked sideways, leaving a jagged line across the delicate design.

“ZABINI!” Theodore bellowed, glaring murderously at Blaise.

Blaise just laughed, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oops?”

Theo shook his head, muttering curses under his breath as he tried to repair the damage.

By the end of the night, the Slytherin common room looked like a pumpkin massacre. Seeds were stuck to the walls, there were at least three pumpkins with completely illegible carvings, and everyone was covered in pumpkin bits.

But as they sat back, admiring their chaotic handiwork, Y/N couldn’t help but smile. Sure, it was a disaster, but it was their disaster.

“Well,” Draco said, surveying the room with a grudging smile, “it’s not the worst thing we’ve ever done.”

Y/N laughed, throwing an arm around him. “It’s a masterpiece of chaos, Malfoy. Just admit it.”

And for once, Draco didn’t argue. Instead, he let out a small, rare laugh, joining in the revelry of his unruly, pumpkin-splattered friends.

[absurdthirst]

The Hotline {Dieter Bravo x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 24k

Warnings: Phone sex, sex work, Dieter being a dick, dirty talk, masturbation, mentions of anilingus, mentions of edging, switch Dieter, dominate/submissive undertones, lying, betrayal, drunk Dieter, mentions of drugs, crying, exhaustion, oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, mentions of pregnancy.

Comments: Taking on a job as a phone sex operator to survive takes on a surprising twist when your daytime boss, Dieter Bravo calls in. Even more surprising when he starts calling everyday. Letting you learn things you never would as his assistant and the lines between your jobs become blurred.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Dieter Bravo MasterList ||

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.

Dieter barely looks up from his script when you set his green tea down on the vanity. "I can't do this anymore, Evangeline. It's impossible, baby. I can't leave my wife." He says his lines, trying to memorize them and he licks his lips as he grabs his pen to make a few notes. He never says thank you for anything you give him and you've gotten used to that. "Thank you." You mumble sarcastically under your breath as you walk away to get him the special socks he wears while filming. His "lucky socks" are what got him the Oscar and "lucky you" has to wash them every night when he is done filming for the day. They are as ratty as the rest of his clothing but he swears they make his scenes better. You hear a beep and your purse vibrates with the spare phone you keep in there. With a glance around the bustling studio, you head into the bathroom to take the call from the familiar number. "Hey baby." You coo into the phone, sitting down on the toilet. You know this is wrong but it's paying your bills. You have a flashback to the night this whole thing started and you lean against the wall in the bathroom as he starts to ramble.

****

Dieter huffs as he sits alone in his bedroom. The large suite, expensively decorated, doesn't fulfill him tonight and he feels like the only man in the world. He hates feeling vulnerable like this. No amount of coke makes the feeling go away. He hums as he starts to look up some porn to jerk his feelings away when he sees the ad. Some phone sex service and he has never called a sex line like some pathetic loser who can't get laid but tonight, he needs to talk to someone, to hear a real voice moaning in his ear. Too lazy to find the real deal, he copies and pastes the number and dials. "Hello sir and welcome to the sexiest phone service in L.A. Please wait to be connected to a concierge." He should hang up now but he doesn't, desperate for attention so when the concierge comes on the line, he eagerly gives his credit card details and a fake name. "What are you looking for?" The concierge asks, tone of voice is slightly bored but Dieter pays them no mind when he asks for someone sweet and sensitive. The operator nods and connects him to "Kitty" and he waits on the line, chest heaving in anticipation.

Your phone buzzes and you are slightly surprised, it’s normally a bit between calls unless the lines are busy but you can’t turn down an opportunity to make more money. Gemma announces that ‘Daniel’ was looking for someone sweet and sensitive so you curve your lips into a smile as the beep indicates that the calls have been patched together. “Hello, Daniel.” You purr into the phone. “What are you doing tonight?”

Dieter bites his lip, hesitating for a second and wanting to hang up but your voice is so sweet, he wants to hear you speak again. “All alone.” He confesses, “thinking about things I shouldn’t be.” He admits, “what are you up to, sweetheart?”

You freeze, wondering why the voice on the phone sounds like your fucking boss. You actually pull the phone away from your ear to check to make sure you have picked up the right one. It would suck if you hadn’t, although you had just talked to Gemma. “You aren’t alone now.” You coo softly. “I’m just sitting in my bed, wondering what I’m going to do with my night.”

“Yeah?” Dieter asks, his fingers tracing his thigh as he sits in his ratty sweatpants, cock twitching at your soft tone that makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside. “I know what you’re gonna do with your night. You’re gonna talk to me.” He says it like it’s obvious, and then he clears his throat. “I haven’t - I haven’t really done this before. Phone sex. Well, I’ve had phone sex. I’ve just never paid for it and I- shit, I’m rambling. Uhhhhh, what are you wearing?” He tries and wants to slap his forehead for being so cliche.

It is Dieter. You want to disconnect the call and pretend like it never happened. Unsure of how this could affect your relationship, but the soft ping of the minute timer echoes, reminding you that every minute you keep him on the phone is another payment towards your debt that is crushing you. “Hmmmmm.” You decide that you like that Dieter, asshole that he normally is, is a little off kilter. “I’m in a white tank top with no bra and red panties.” You tell him honestly, but you drop your voice to make it sound sexier than it is. “It’s so hot, I have to lounge like that to try and stay cool. What are you wearing?”

Dieter swallows, his cock twitching as it starts to harden. He has no clue what you look like but that kind of turns him on more. The mystery. You have no idea who he is. No idea that he’s an Oscar winning actor. He’s anonymous and that’s probably the hottest thing to him right now. “Sweatpants.” He answers honestly, “no shirt. No underwear.” He smirks a little, looking down at his bulge, knowing that women love the look of gray sweats. “It’s a hot summer.” He coos, “so hot. I think you better take the tank top off to really cool down.”

“Naughty.” You chuckle quietly, shuffling the phone slightly and pretending like you are taking off your clothes. This is your boss. No matter what school girl crush you had on him when you were first hired, Dieter hadn’t given you the time of day. Which was insulting when you realized that he constantly hit on anyone that walked by him. “That is cooler. What about you, baby? Aren’t those sweats hot?”

“They are.” Dieter agrees, placing the phone on speaker so he can lift his hips and shove his sweatpants down. His cock is hard now, aching at the dulcet tones of your voice and he wants to hear you moan, wants to hear you whisper dirty things to him. “I’m naked now…and hard for you, Kitty. I- fuck - I want to suck on your tits.” He blurts out, hating that he’s always had a breast feeding kink but he’s terrified of being a father. You don’t know him, he can act out these fantasies without your judgment.

“Ohhhhh.” You sigh softly and even though he would never know the difference, you actually do reach down and cup your breast. “I love having my tits sucked on.” You admit, imagining your boss with that whiny, pouty mouth wraps around a nipple. “It feels so good to me, baby. Would you squeeze them while you sucked or would you want them to just beg for your attention?”

Dieter groans softly, imagining pliable soft flesh he can squeeze and he nods against the phone, “yes. Squeeze them. Suck on them. I’d - fuck - I would suck on them until you were begging me for more. Until - until your milk squirts into my mouth.” He groans, caressing his thigh in an effort to drag this out and not jerk off so fast. You might judge him, but he doesn’t know you and you don’t know him, so he doesn’t care.

Your brows shoot up, discovering that you are learning one of Dieter’s secret fantasies. He’s open about sex, talks about it enough, but you’ve never heard about that. “Would you like that?” You ask him softly. “Drinking down my milk? Letting you nurse?”

Dieter can’t stop the groan that escapes his lips at your dirty words. “Fuckkkk. Yesss. I- I would drink it all down. Leave none for the baby.” He pants, brushing his fingers over the leaking tip of his cock. “Want to suck on your tits while you sit on my cock. You wanna do that, baby?” He asks, curious if you’re into this or just acting. He doesn’t care either way. He’s enjoying this.

You moan, surprised yourself that the thought actually turns you on. It’s not like you haven’t seen Dieter’s dick. You’ve seen the man walk around his house in nothing but a bathrobe and crocs. Or sprawled out naked on his bed with his flaccid cock out. He’s pretty impressive and you’ve always wondered how he would feel. “I do. You want me to squeeze your cock tight in my little pussy while you gulp my milk down?”

“Fuckkkkk.” Dieter hisses, wanting to jerk off but he wants this to last. “Yes. I bet you’re so tight. Like a goddamn vice, aren’t you, Kitty? God, you sound so beautiful. Want you to be round with my baby, sitting on my cock.” He confesses his darkest fantasy. He has come to realize in his older age that he wants a family but he can never have it. His job, his personality, his lifestyle…none of it is conducive to having a wife or a child. He’s accepted it won’t happen for him but he likes to think about it.

You feel your cunt flood with arousal and you gasp quietly. It will play into the sweet and sensual that Dieter apparently craves. “So tight. It would be so good.” You promise him, wondering what he would do if he knew the woman he is calling beautiful is the same woman he ignores every day. “I’d run my hands through your hair. Do you like it when someone plays with your hair, baby?”

“Yes. I fucking love that.” He practically whimpers as he imagines it. “I want - I want to feel you cum around me. Gush and soak my cock. God, I bet you taste so sweet too. Have you sit on my face. Tell me, are you touching yourself?” He asks breathlessly.

“Yes.” It’s an easy lie, but you’re actually wishing you were touching yourself. You squeeze your breast and moan softly. “Are you touching yourself? I know you have the best cock. Nice and thick for me to impale myself on and ride until I cum.”

“I- I was waiting for you to tell me I could touch myself. I- I haven’t done this before and I- I didn’t know what was appropriate.” He confesses, his fingers twitching, “I’m so hard for you. I want to touch myself. Kitty, can I touch myself?” He asks, voice strained with the restraint he’s showing.

He’s submissive. You bite your lip, eyes wide as you realize this man would be putty in your hands, even if it’s over the phone. “Spit in your hand and wrap it around your cock, baby.” You order him softly. “I want you to feel good. Imagine it’s my pussy, squeezing you tight.”

Dieter follows your order, groaning in relief when he spits in his hand and wraps his fingers around his hard cock. “Fuck. That’s - your cunt is so tight.” He murmurs, closing his eyes as he tries to imagine you - Kitty - on his cock and squeezing him tight. “Feel so good, baby.”

“Oh baby.” You breathlessly moan and reposition in bed. “Fuck, you’re so big, filling me up.” You praise him, knowing how much men love having their egos stroked. You moan again. “How do you want to fuck me? Slow and steady or fast and frantic?”

“Slow. I want slow.” He confesses, yearning for the softness that is missing in his normal liaisons. Usually, it’s fast and frantic and rushed because he wants to retreat back to his solitude. He’s tired of meaningless sex but that’s all he can get. He can’t have connections. How many NDAs can someone have signed? “Are you touching that little clit for me?” Dieter asks, voice deepening with his arousal.

“Yessss.” You whine softly, tempted to actually touch yourself and your hand does slide down to the edge of your panties but you don’t delve under them. “Rubbing my clit so gently and imagining your head between my thighs. Feeling how softly you would lick me, while I play with your hair and tell you how good you are.”

"Fuck yes, baby. Oh God, I can practically feel your fingers running through my hair. I love it. Shit. Feels so good. Wanna - wanna feel you cum on my tongue." He admits, imagining a woman sitting on his face, using his tongue. His cock twitching in his tight grip and he knows you can hear him jerking his cock.

“Oh I’m gonna baby, that tongue is gonna make me scream your name.” You promise him breathlessly. It’s incredibly satisfying to hear him pant for you, the sounds of him fisting his cock doesn’t sound vulgar. It sounds pretty empowering. “Baby, you’re gonna- oh fuck.”

Hearing you moan has him cumming. Worked up from sitting and thinking about having sex and then the call with you…he can’t last much longer. “That’s it baby. Oh shit. That’s it. I’m gonna - you’re gonna make me - fuckkkkk.” He groans out, squeezing his cock as he spills his hot seed onto his chest and belly.

You pretend to pant as you listen to Dieter groan and work himself through his orgasm over the phone. Surprised that he still hasn’t figured out your voice, you hum. “Was that good for you, baby?”

“So good. So fucking good.” He pants, his eyes closed as he enjoys his orgasm and he can’t believe how good he feels. He doesn’t feel used or dirty like he does when he finds some wannabe model or a fan to fuck. “You’re so good.” He murmurs, letting go of his cock.

“That’s you, baby.” You coo softly. You know the phone call will end soon, it always does after the entire point of the call is fulfilled. “Never had it this good before.” You feel like he won’t believe that, and it’s just lip service, but you’ve actually enjoyed talking to your boss tonight.

Dieter smiles against the phone, satisfied both physically and emotionally for the first time in so long. “I wanna talk to you again.” He says once he’s sobered up a little from his orgasm.

“You can call anytime.” You promise him with a small smirk, very aware that he would be talking to you in just a few hours. “If you want to call me again tomorrow night, I’d really like that.”

“Yeah? I'd love that.” Dieter says with a sloppy smile on his face. He doesn’t know why but he felt a real connection to you. Something he hasn’t felt in so long. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Kitty. Sweet dreams.” He murmurs, suddenly wanting to get some sleep before he has to be up for his call time. **** 

“Can’t you just get me a fucking cup of tea?” He growls at the catering assistant before he spins to see you. “Oh good. Get me some tea.” He orders, grumpy despite his good sleep.

Your brow shoots up, sure that he would have been in a better mood after last night. “Yes sir,” you throw him a sarcastic salute, grinning when he just rolls his eyes and stomps off towards his trailer. You turn towards the caterer and give them an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry, can I get a tea?”

Dieter doesn't look up at you as you set the tea down on the counter in front of him as he sits in front of the makeup trailer mirror. He sighs and looks up at you, "took you long enough."

“They were having a problem with their hot water.” You tell him, even though you know he won’t care in the least. “I’ve got to go pick up your pages.” You tell him, knowing there will be script changes, there have been every day since shooting has started.

Dieter hums, glancing up as you exit the trailer and his eyes drop down to your ass. He’s never really allowed himself to pay attention to you before. Your pretty eyes and the way you unknowingly sway your hips. He’d fuck you if you weren’t employed by him. He sighs and sips the tea, glancing up at Josh who handles his makeup on every movie. “What?” He asks and Josh chuckles, “you gotta be nicer to her.” He says and Dieter snorts, “she’s not paid for me to be nice.”

You sigh as you walk back to the make-up trailer. Pulling out your second phone so you can check when you need to be available. When Dieter is filming, you will have at least two hours to take calls. Dieter doesn’t recognize your voice, which is a good thing, but he’s also being his most difficult self. That’s normal, but you feel oddly deflated after that conversation last night.

**** 

Dieter bites his lip as he listens to the dial tone. He had asked for Kitty specifically and he is already half hard. It’s late, his script abandoned as he waits to hear that sweet voice he’s been thinking about for the past twenty-four hours.

You look at your phone as you finish up your dinner, sighing softly. You had expected at least a few more hours before he called. You answer and wait for the call to connect as you turn off the stove and plate up your food. Hopefully he won’t hear you trying to eat.

Dieter grins when you answer the phone, “hey Kitty. I’ve been thinking about you all day.” He confesses and you snort, “all day?” 

Dieter hums, “all fucking day. Imagined you moaning out when you cum.” He coos and clears his throat a moment later when you don’t reply. “Are you there, baby?”

You swallow the bite of your food and almost call him out on this shit today, but Dieter doesn’t know that it’s you. If he did, you bet he wouldn’t be thinking about you all day. “I’m here baby, I’m sorry, I was getting comfortable.” You aren’t lying, eating is getting comfortable. Especially since you had been working, talking to other clients while Dieter was on set and you didn’t manage to get lunch today.

“No problem. Are you comfortable?” Dieter asks, wanting you to be comfortable while he’s on the phone to you. 

“Yes. I’m all comfy baby.” You promise and Dieter hums in delight. 

“Good. I- I - I didn’t have a great day today. It was shit. Work didn’t go too great and I want to just forget about it.”

"What do you do?" You ask him, curious if he would brag about being an Oscar winning actor like he is so apt to do in real life, or if he would say something else. 

"Oh, I'm - I do creative licensing." He tells you, making you hum, intrigued by this interpretation of acting. 

"Wow, that sounds really important, I'm sorry that you had a bad day, what can I do to make you feel better, baby?"

“You can talk to me. Tell me about your day.” He demands softly, wanting to hear it. He wants to hear you talk, comforted and turned on by your voice. “And tell me what you’re wearing.” He adds, his cock semi hard from hearing that sweet voice answer the phone.

It’s surprising that he wants to hear about someone else’s day. You hum and look down at your work clothes. “I’m just wearing my robe after taking a shower. I needed to wipe the day away too. My boss-” You break off, not sure if you should tell him such a thing. 

“Your boss is what?” Dieter asks and you sigh. 

“My boss is…ungrateful.” You decide. “But I shouldn’t talk about that.” 

Dieter shakes his head, “no. Tell me. I want to hear about it.” He says, wanting to hear about someone else’s life instead of his miserable existence. He’s tired of being alone, of spending his days alone, spending his days being someone else. Pretending to be something else. He wants to hear something menial, not his complicated shit.

You sigh softly and take another bite of your food. “I am the senior executive assistant to the CEO of the company I work for.” You know Dieter has his own company for tax purposes, so that’s technically correct. “My boss just seems to never have a kind word, or not treat me like I’m supposed to jump every time he says.”

Dieter frowns, “that’s not right. You should be treated with respect. You work hard? You should be looked after.” He says with a harsh tone towards your boss. Your voice is so sweet, you shouldn’t be having to jump at a moment’s notice. “If I was your boss, I’d look after you.” He promises, having no idea how ridiculous it is that he actually is your boss.

You roll your eyes, aware of how untrue that was. “Yeah baby?” You want to turn the conversation away from you. It would be too easy to give something away he might recognize. “What would you do to take care of me if I was yours?”

“Everything.” He sighs dreamily. “I’d look after you. Make sure you’re treated with respect. Paid well.” He promises despite his mind drifting to you. “You deserve to be looked after. Relaxed and happy.” He murmurs, glancing over at his script that you gave him. “You’re just wearing a robe?” He asks, his cock still half hard.

“Yes baby.” You are delighted he has come back to sex. Reliable, that’s Dieter. “Red silk. It comes to my thighs and I think it’s the sexiest thing I own.”

“Shit.” He grunts, “and nothing underneath?” He asks and you hum, “nothing.” He groans at that news, “take it off. The sexiest thing you can wear is nothing. Is your little pussy weeping?” He asks, wanting to hear you talk some more.

“Soaked and dripping down my thighs.” You confess, even though it’s just what he wants to hear. “Your voice is so sexy baby, it turns me on. I started getting wet when you said hello.”

“Good. Good. I- I fucking - fucking love that. I love that. I’m getting hard for you baby.” He groans, spitting into his hard and wrapping his fingers around his cock. “Your voice is so sweet. I love it. I wanna listen to you all day.”

You smirk to yourself and coo softly into the telephone. “You like my voice? I think yours is sexy. I bet it sounds amazing when you're right next to my ear, about to cum.” You flatter. “How hard are you right now? Are you throbbing? Squeeze your cock for me, baby.”

"Yes. I'm throbbing for you now." Dieter groans, squeezing his cock as you order. "Tell me what to do. I want to listen to you talk. Fuck, so sexy when you order me around." He whines softly as he starts to slowly pump his cock.

Your groan comes through the line and you hum. “Press your thumb over the tip and smear your pre-cum around the head.” You order him. “Are you cut, or uncircumcised?” You ask as if you don’t know.

“Uncut.” Dieter confesses, “I- I came here as a kid from South America and my parents - they don’t- it’s - do you prefer cut or uncut?” He asks out of curiosity as he follows your order and moans when his thumb swipes over the head of his cock.

Uncut is more sensitive and you like peeling the foreskin down to reveal the leaking head. “I like uncut, baby.” You purr. “Love when your eyes roll back when I press my tongue to the head. So responsive.”

“Fuck baby. Yes. Yes. I love that. Wanna see you take my cock into your mouth.” He groans and he pumps himself a few times, squeezing and trying not to cum too fast. He loves listening to you. “Baby. Fuck, keep talking for me baby.”

“I bet you're thick. Nice and thick and veiny. Easy to jerk off and you love when someone looks up at you when they are sucking your cock, don’t you?” You have heard him talk about blow jobs but you tried to tune it out as much as you could since he was bragging. “Eyes wide and maybe innocent looking?”

Dieter groans, “yes. Yes I do. Oh God. You know me baby. You know me so well already. Wanna see your eyes as you look up at me, mouth full of my cock. Jesus, so fucking sexy. You sound so fucking beautiful.” He pants, jerking his cock a little faster.

You know he doesn’t think that way about you, but it’s nice to hear. “I bet you like having your balls sucked on too, don’t you?” You hum. “Hand around your cock, jerking you off while licking and sucking on your balls. Does that sound good, baby?”

Dieter let’s out a sound between a choke and a moan. The whine makes you smirk and he can’t help but groan out “Kitty. Yes. Fuck. And - and want - God. Want you to lick my ass.” He groans, cock twitching in your hand.

You wrinkle your nose, having zero interest in eating ass, especially Dieter’s, but you moan softly. “I’ll do that for you baby.” You lie, knowing that he would never know the difference. “Make you feel so good. You’ll be cumming quickly. Do you want to cum down my throat or on my tits?”

“Down your throat. Fuck. Want to see you swallow my cum down that pretty throat of yours.” He groans, pumping his cock a little faster and he whimpers when he twitches, so close to cumming. “Fuck. I wanna - I wanna feel you. Wanna see you. Are you- are you close?” He asks breathlessly.

“I’m close baby,” you moan softly. “Imagining the two fingers inside me is your thick cock.” You tell him. “Pumping into me like you are trying to make me scream.”

“Yes. I’d make you scream my name so fucking loud baby.” He promises, “everyone would hear it. God, wanna hear you cum. Can you cum for me?” He begs, his cock throbbing and he’s so close. The tip of his cock is an angry red and he is leaking pre-cum onto his sheets but he doesn’t care.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum for you baby.” You whimper, knowing he wants to hear you. You aren’t touching yourself, but you know how to sound like you are. “Oh fuck, I’m- you baby, moan for me, I’m gonna- gonna cum!” You squeal quietly.

Dieter nearly drops the phone as he listens to you cum and he swears he’s about to blackout from the pleasure until he finally cums, spurting onto his sheets and his chest, a low strangled sound escaping his lips as he orgasms.

You listen to him cum, panting into the phone as you ‘come down’ from your high. “So good, you’re so good, baby.” You coo. “How does it feel? Do you feel relaxed? Sleepy? I always get so sleepy after I cum.”

“Sleepy and relaxed.” He slurs slightly. He hasn’t gotten high tonight, wanting to talk to you properly and he is drunk on you, on your voice. “Thank you, Kitty.” He murmurs, his cum already drying on his skin.

“You’re welcome.” You smile as you hear his voice slip into the pitch that it normally is when he’s about to fall asleep or just waking up. “You should get some sleep, baby.” You murmur softly, aware that you’ve collected a nice paycheck from this call. “I hope you have a better day tomorrow.”

“Me too.” He murmurs, reaching for the tissues on the side so he can clean himself up. “Thank you, Kitty. Have a good night.” He says, hating to lose the connection but he has to get some sleep for his call time tomorrow. “Goodnight.” You murmur and he hangs up, hearing the amount he’s spent but it’s worth every penny to hear that voice.

The next morning, you wonder what kind of mood Dieter will be in. He had been in a bad mood yesterday after talking to you, and he had spent longer on the phone with you last night. “Good morning, Mr. Bravo.” You had swung by the caterer to grab his tea on your way to his trailer. His call time is in an hour, so he has ten minutes before he has to be in makeup.

Dieter rubs his cheek as his hair is styled and he looks up at you, frowning for a second. There’s a tone to your voice that reminds him of Kitty and he has the sudden urge to call her but it’s too early and he has resigned himself to a call a day. “Morning.” He mumbles and you hand him the tea. He doesn’t say thank you as he takes a sip, “have you organized the dinner with that model my PR wants me to ‘date’?”

“Yes.” You want to sigh but you resist. You know you will need to arrange to have his housekeeper come by tomorrow even though it would be a normal off day. She will need to change the sheets and clean whatever toys Dieter used on the model. Plus any of the drug residue. “You are booked at the Palm for nine o’clock. Table for two, very visible. I’ve got a call into Star for a photog to take pap pics.”

Dieter nods, glancing back at himself in the mirror. “She’s gonna have about three brain cells but I’ll see what I can do with them.” He snorts and his hairstylist chuckles, shaking his head. “Fucking PR wanting me to ‘settle’ down because I’m getting older.” He scoffs, “I’m not old.”

You don’t point out that he’s solidly middle aged and the hair department has to dye his hair to rid him of the grays. “Of course you’re not.” You agree softly. “Maybe she will be a marvelous conversationalist.”

Dieter can't help but laugh, "oh sure. That's how she got her job. Her brains." He chuckles softly and shakes his head, "you do make me laugh." He points at you before he clears his throat. "I want those tacos from the place opposite the studio for lunch. Chicken. No, beef. And don't let them skimp on the guac."

“Okay.” You nod. “Chicken, good amount of guac, cilantro and onions.” You know his order practically everywhere at this point but he continues to tell you like it’s your first day. “Do you want queso, or pinto beans?”

“I said beef.” He huffs, rolling his eyes. “No beans. We are doing some action and I don’t wanna be farting up a storm on the set. Tummy gets gassy with beans.” He admits and you wrinkle your nose, “queso. I’ll have queso. And get me a side of rice.”

“Beef.” You know he said chicken but you won’t argue that point. “Extra guac, cilantro and onions, queso with a side of rice.” You barely suppress the urge to roll your eyes. “Aqua Fresca?”

“Of course.” He scoffs like you should know his order without him even saying anything. “Always. See if they have the lime flavor I like.” He says, reaching down to flip the page of today’s lines. “God, it’s exhausting trying to order food.” He huffs softly to himself.

You sigh, your shoulders rounding slightly at the comment. Dieter is egotistical and high strung, making the smallest tasks difficult and for a moment, you wish you were talking to him on the phone. You like that version of him. “Text me if you need anything.” You murmur before leaving the trailer.

He doesn’t look up but he can feel his hair stylist’s eyes on him. “What?” He says without looking up. 

“She’s good for you, Dieter. Don’t run her off. You need to be nicer.” 

Dieter looks up, “she’s a tough girl. I’m just preparing her for this business. I’m doing her a favor.” He says and looks back at his lines. 

**** 

“So I can’t believe how absolutely amazing tonight went.” The model, Sabrina, smiles at Dieter who offers her a fake, Oscar winning smile back. 

“Soooo good. So, uh listen, this went well but this is purely PR.” He says and she frowns, “you don’t want me to come back to yours?” She asks and Dieter usually would be all over snorting coke off of her perky ass and having her sit on his cock but all he can think about is going home and calling Kitty. 

“As incredible as that sounds, I’m tired and honestly? You could talk less about Kylie and Kim. It’s a little too much, ya know?” He tilts his head, “this is to help your career, baby girl, so just kiss me for the paps and we can both go home to our comfy beds, m’kay?” He hums and her mouth flaps like a fish, shocked at his rejection. Dieter pays the bill and the couple walk outside to the paps waiting for him. Dieter ignores them, walking Sabrina to her car and he leans in to kiss her, his hands sliding down to squeeze her ass and he pats it after a second. “Nice date, baby. See ya for the next one.” He winks, slinking off to his own car. He drives a little too fast but as soon as he’s home, he’s grabbing his phone to dial the number he’s memorized.

It’s hard not to sulk tonight, drowning your sorrows in a pint of ice cream and watching Netflix. If you didn’t have a humongous debt, you probably would be pouting. Instead, you are talking to a priest, listening to his fantasies about fucking the leader is the choir in front of the congregation on Sunday. You’ve already role-played and he’s cum, now you are just getting rid of him. Trying not to think about the fact that your boss should be balls deep in that model by now.

The phone rings and Dieter requests Kitty. “She’s on another call at the moment. Do you want to call back?” The operator asks and Dieter’s stomach twists at the thought of his girl talking to someone else. Ridiculous when she isn’t his but he likes to imagine she is. “I’ll call back.” He says, hanging up and he decides to get something to drink to run down the minutes. He calls again twenty minutes later, anxious and itching to talk to you.

You’re shocked when your phone rings and Gemma tells you that Daniel is requesting you again. “He’s becoming a regular.” She giggles and you hum, telling her to put the call through. 

“Hello?”

“Hey Kitty.” Dieter smiles, feeling relaxed just hearing your voice. “I’ve missed hearing that pretty voice.” He admits, “been thinking about you all day.”

“You have?” You lean back onto your couch and resist the urge to call him out. “That’s good. You sound like you’ve been busy.” It’s a question, but maybe not. “Or not busy enough if you’ve been thinking of me all day.”

Dieter snorts, "to be honest...I had a date tonight but I wasn't into her. It was, uh, a blind date, and she was boring as fuck. I didn't want to waste time taking her home when I could talk to you." He confesses, "she didn't have your voice."

That’s interesting. “What’s wrong with her voice?” You had seen some clips of her, but never an interview, maybe she has a really nasally voice, he hates that.

"She wasn't you. She - she wanted to talk about the fucking Kardashians all night and I - she didn't know any of the classics. She hasn't even seen The Godfather. Who the fuck hasn't seen The Godfather?" He rambles a little, "she was boring and she kept looking at herself in the mirror behind me."

“Hmmmm.” Yeah, totally not Dieter’s type. Despite his complete self absorption, he loves classic movies. “So I guess that means she’s never seen Some Like it Hot, or Casablanca?” You snort, shaking your head. “The latest TikTok make-up trend is probably more her speed then. I’m sorry, baby. I’m sure that you won’t be seeing her again.”

Dieter rubs his cheek, "it's, uh, it's complicated. I have to. For my job. I have to see her again and she's gonna bore me to death. She was talking and I could barely stop myself from stabbing my ear drums with the cocktail stick from her martini." He snorts, "how was your evening?"

“It’s okay.” You shrug. “A little lonely.” You tell him teasingly, although it might sound flat. You really wonder what you’ve done to make him hate you as his assistant, it must be something. “Wanted to relax and have a bottle of wine, but I have to have wine to do that.”

"You don't have any wine?" Dieter frowns, "you gotta have some wine if you want it!" He says and he runs his fingers over his sheets, feeling guilty for going on that date even though he doesn't know who Kitty is. He wants to though. More than anything.

“Maybe I’ll treat myself this weekend if my boss doesn’t have me working.” You hum softly, aware that Dieter will have you working, he always does. “What do you want to talk about tonight, baby? I want to make you feel good.”

He doesn't actually want phone sex. He just wants to listen to your voice. "I- I want to hear you talk about your day. Then I want - I want you to tell me what you fantasize about." He declares and you shake your head despite knowing he can't see you. "This is about you." You remind him but he snorts, "exactly. And that's what I want."

You scramble to tell him about your day without giving too much away. “It was frustrating.” You admit. “I think my boss purposely tries to make me feel worthless.” You tell him. “He wanted me to go run an errand for him, tells me what to do, I repeat it back to him and then he changes it and complains.”

“He sounds like a dick.” Dieter scoffs and you bite your lip to smother your chuckle at the irony. “Why do you work for this guy if he’s such an asshole?” He asks, curious as to why you’d let someone treat you like that.

“I need a job.” You answer honestly, wondering what he would say if you told him the truth about the guy who’s a dick. “It’s also why I am on the phone with you. I have a lot of debt that is drowning me. My degree became useless when the industry tanked.”

Dieter frowns, not liking how desperate you sound. “What did you get your degree in?” He asks, trying to figure out how he can help you more. You’re so sweet and kind. He doesn’t want to see anything happen to you because you can’t pay your bills.

“It’s definitely not something you’ve heard of.” You promise, not sure if you’ve told Dieter or if he paid attention. “But that makes my fantasy to be a sugar baby.” You joke, giggling quietly. “Not really, but I can dream, right?”

Dieter snorts, “you can definitely dream, baby. I want to send you some money. Can I?” He asks, wanting to look after you even if it’s not as a sugar baby/sugar daddy relationship.

There’s no way that you can have him send you money. He would know it’s you. “No, no, don’t do that baby.” You insist. “Talking to me right here is enough.”

Dieter whines, “but I’m willing to help you out, Kitty. I don’t want you to struggle. I- I can help.” He says but you turn him down again. “Can we - can we stay on the phone for longer? Extend the calls so you get more money?”

“That would work, baby.” You are surprised that Dieter is willing to spend more money, or give you money. He had turned you down when you asked for a raise a few months ago. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Tell me about your dreams. What do you wanna do? I’m guessing that being a phone sex operator isn’t your ideal. I wanna know what you want for your life.” Dieter says, knowing he’s had so much success but he wants to hear what someone else wants from their life.

“No, being a phone sex operator isn’t ideal.” You admit with a small chuckle. “Honestly? My secret dream? The one I’ve never told anyone?” You tempt him, making him huff and impatiently exclaim, “of course, tell me!” You bite your lip. “I want to be a writer.” You confess softly. “I could be a stay at home mom if I ever met someone and wanted kids. But I want to write. Books, films, it doesn’t matter.”

Dieter smiles, “you written anything?” He asks, curious since he has read enough movie scripts during his time. “Have you written anything or just have some ideas?”

You hum softly. “I have nearly two hundred pages written. A story about a girl who is an assistant to a movie star. A real asshole.” You clear your throat. “I figured it would be different from my real boss so he wouldn’t recognize himself.”

“Smart.” Dieter chuckles, “can I - can you read some of it? I wanna see if it’s something…I have a friend in the movie industry. I could see if he can get it to someone. Maybe get it picked up?” Dieter offers.

If you had asked Dieter Bravo to read your script, he would have scoffed and tossed it in the trash. Now he’s begging you to read your story. “I - I can email you a copy.” It would be easy to create another email account that isn’t linked to your real life. “If you really want to read it, don’t feel obliged to, though.”

“I want to read it.” Dieter says, almost hungry to consume every thing you’re willing to give him. “I want to read it and see if I can help you. You sound so sweet, so beautiful, I want to help any way I can.” He says and clears his throat, “you- I love how you sound. Think about you during the day…what you’re up to.”

“You would be surprised.” You huff, rolling your eyes. “It would bore you and probably annoy you.” You honestly believe that Dieter believes that he is better than your imaginary boss. “I did my boss’s laundry and arranged for him to have business meetings for the next few weeks.”

“He sounds like a dick.” Dieter scoffs, “you should quit. Let me take care of you.” He says playfully, “we could spend our days talking about movies or going to the beach. I haven’t been to the beach in so long.” He sighs, “when was the last time you went to the beach?”

“Honestly? It was about a month ago.” You admit. “The beach is free entertainment. I was…out of town for a while and when I got back from the business trip, it was the first thing I did.” You had needed the time to clear your mind, Dieter had been horrible while on location and you needed the salt and sand to decompress.

“I wanna go.” Dieter huffs, feeling impulsive but unable to go. It’s too late. “Maybe one day. I- my schedule is so busy. I wouldn’t mind seeing you in a tiny bikini though.” He smirks, imagining laying out in the sun, flirting and kissing. Something he hasn’t enjoyed in so long.

You giggle but you want to snort. You doubt he would want to see you in a bikini, he’s never even glanced at you twice. Unless he’s angry and ridiculing you. “Maybe one day, baby. What’s your favorite thing to do at the beach? I love laying out and sunning. I- the last time I was in Europe, I went to a nude beach.”

“You’ve been to Europe?” He asks, knowing it’s rude to assume you haven’t but he is surprised you have. “I like the nude beaches.” He adds, knowing he can’t go to them in case there are paps but he enjoys laying out in the sun.

“They are great, I came back with no tan lines.” You hum, smiling at the memory. It had made it worth it to put up with Dieter’s antics that entire trip. “I would like to go back, or even better, have a house with a private pool and be able to sunbathe nude next to it.”

“Ooo that sounds relaxing. And sex by the pool. Sex in the sun.” He fantasizes, “fucking someone in the pool. Fucking you in the pool.” He amends, “the sun on our skin. Imagine that, baby. Just enjoying life with no worries. Sex and sun and wine.”

“Sex is great.” You admit. “But I want a connection with the person I’m with. Intimacy. Laying in bed and talking about our day, our hopes and dreams. Planning out our future even if we both know it will never happen.” You smile sadly.

He understands that. His ex wife…that was a disaster and he is still paying out the alimony for that mistake. “Yeah? I want that too. To talk about anything and everything. The future. God, the future. I don’t even wanna think about the future most of the time.”

“Yeah, I have to survive the day, let alone plan for the future.” You snort and shake your head. “I can barely have a date, let alone find something permanent.”

Dieter understands that too. His schedule is so scattered he can’t make plans. His December could change three times before it’s finalized. “You deserve to be treasured.” Dieter says after a few moments.

“I’m glad you think so.” You murmur softly. “Maybe you can treat people in your life since I’m not there.” You suggest. “Do you have anyone you see everyday? A co-worker? Assistant? I don’t even know what you do.”

“I have an assistant.” He confesses, avoiding your question about what he does. “My job is stressful. I- I was brought to America as a young kid and immediately, my parents signed me up for drama class thinking it would help me learn English. It did and I fell in love with movies. I have had a life dictated for me by my parents’ desire to see me become successful in this country and it worked but - but I missed having a childhood.” He confesses, “I missed my family.”

“Oh.” You frown slightly, feeling bad for Dieter and the stress he must have been under as a young child. You never knew that about him. “I’m sorry.” You murmur softly. “I hate that you missed your family and your childhood. What did you imagine doing?”

“I wanted…it’s so dumb.” He snorts, “I wanted to be a zoo keeper. I loved - I love animals. I wanted to work with lions and tigers. And monkeys. I wanted to nurture something. I - I don’t nurture anything now.” He says with sadness, a little upset at how fickle his life has become.

“That’s great.” You sigh softly. “You should. I’m sure that there’s some wildlife conservations you can help out. I always try to donate to my favorite causes when I have some extra money.”

“Yeah. I could do that. I’ll speak to my ma - my finance manager and see what can be done.” He says, “I want to help out. Especially here in California. Are you in Cali or somewhere else?”

“I’m in California.” You tell him. “Los Angeles, although I would love to live out in the desert.” You smile, thinking about the movies that have been filmed out there. Dieter never wanted to do one because the sun was so bright. “Where do you live?”

“Uh, L.A. too. North L.A.” He says vaguely, “funny. In this big city and I’ve never met anyone like you. You’re so…genuine. I love it.” He admits with a soft smile, “do you- are you going to - what are you wearing?” He asks, his voice dropping.

This is something that you are used to. Dieter is always horny. “Another tank top and panties.” You tell him. “I need to do laundry but I can’t muster the energy.”

“Don’t do laundry. Just walk around your house naked.” Dieter chuckles, “so I can call and you can tell me how you’re making that sweet cunt of yours weep for me.” He groans, his cock twitching as he starts to harden, imagining Kitty sitting there, listening to him.

“Do you walk around your own house naked?” You ask, knowing that he’s more likely to walk around in his boxers and ratty bathrobe, but maybe he strips down when you aren’t around. “I should be naked. Save on clothes.”

“Sometimes. Depends on the weather. If it’s really hot I’ll walk around naked.” He doesn’t tend to do it a lot just in case someone snaps a photo. Despite his vivacious sex life, he hasn’t been caught naked on camera, not even for an indie movie. “You should be naked. I - I wish I could see you naked.”

“I’m afraid you would be disappointed.” You claim, making his scoff. 

“No I wouldn’t.” He insists. “I would be in awe of every inch of your body.” It’s a nice claim but you highly doubt it, you’ve seen the people he fucks. They are way beyond your league. 

“The best part of this, you can imagine I look like whatever you want.”

“Baby.” He whines, “I- I know you won’t but I wish you could describe what you looked like. So I could imagine sinking inside of you, making you moan my name. Wanna watch you cum on my tongue, my fingers…my cock.”

“I won’t tell you what I look like,” he huffs even though he expected it and you grin. “But I will tell you that I waxed my pussy. So it’s nice and bare. Brazilian. Clean front and back.” Dieter had tossed you a gift bag telling you that he didn’t want it and you had used the generous gift card inside to treat yourself a few weeks ago.

“Shitttttt.” Dieter hisses, imagining sliding his tongue through bare folds, rimming smooth skin. “Fuck. You have noooo idea how hot that is.” Dieter admits, “does it feel good, baby? Silky smooth?”

“It’s so good. I never want to have hair again.” You admit with a giggle. “Sometimes I just touch myself just to enjoy the soft skin. Turning myself on. I bet your tongue would feel so good on my bare pussy.”

“It would.” He says with utter conviction, “I would make you cum on my tongue. Over and over. I’m- fuck - I’m hard for you, baby. I need you.” He pants, his cock aching now and he wraps his fingers around his hard length.

“You need me?” You bite your lip and actually palm your breast. “How do you want me? If I was right in front of you, right now, what would you do to me? Touch yourself and tell me.” You order.

Dieter chokes at the sweetness of your voice. “I - fuck. I’d want you to sit on my face while you suck my cock. I’d lick that sweet pussy, God, that sweet soft pussy. Suck on your clit, bury my tongue inside of you. Lick you up.”

“Yeah? Ride your face while I take your thick cock down my throat and moan around you when you push your tongue inside me?” You coo. “I would love that. I could have my pussy eaten all day. And I love sucking cock.”

Dieter hisses, squeezing his cock, “baby. Oh shit. That - I want you to suck my cock. Take all of it down your throat. I want to - shit - want to lick your ass and your pussy. Make you soak my face.”

The groan you give is dirty, imagining smothering him in your pussy and him begging for more. “Good boy.” You purr, wondering how he works react to that.

Holy shit. He nearly cums from that. “Yes ma’am.” He whines, “wanna- wanna be a good boy for you.” He whimpers, squeezing his cock again. “Can I - can I - can I pump my cock, ma’am?”

“Yes you can.” You agree, enjoying the submissiveness of your boss. “But don’t cum, I don’t want you to cum just yet. Can you do that for me, my good boy?”

“Yes.” He nods against the phone, “I promise. I- I won’t cum.” He groans low as he pumps his cock, “ma’am. I wanna - I won’t cum but tell me - what are you doing?” He asks, his voice a little desperate.

“Sitting in my chair, legs spread wide on the arms and rubbing my clit.” You whimper. “Imagining you on your knees with a cock ring on your hard cock while you eat me out until I let you fuck me.”

“Jesus Christ yes. I- I have a cock ring. Don’t get to use it too often.” He confesses, “I’d make you cum. Over and over again.” He promises, “until you let me fuck you.”

“I know you would, you’re a good boy.” You giggle, enjoying the power you weld over him. “If you cum, you would be punished, you know that right? I would spank your ass and you couldn’t fuck me.”

“Oh my God.” Dieter groans, never experiencing this before. Every lover he’s had wanted him to be in control. And he does like that but he loves feeling out of control. He’s just never found a lover he trusts enough to let go of the dominance. He loves hearing you talk about this. It’s safe and yet he can indulge. “Baby. Oh ma’am. I’m a good boy. I promise.” He assures you, “I want to fuck you. You’ll let me fuck you?”

“Yes.” You hum. “But you would have to listen to me. If you didn’t, I would tie you to the bed and ride your cock while you have the cock ring on.” You warn him. “Not let you cum while I cum over and over on your cock.”

"You say that like it's a punishment." He jokes softly despite the rasp in his voice from his arousal. He spits into his hand, squeezing the head of his cock and his hand drags his foreskin down, having him release a moan at the way he imagines being denied like that.

You snort and shake your head. “Then what would be punishment for you?” You ask, curious to hear more of those deep fantasies of his come out. He’s jerking off now. The slick sounds coming through the phone.

"Slapping me. Edging me. Fuck, I want - I want you to deny me but I want to feel your mark on me. Dig your nails into my skin." He begs, knowing that he can never have hickies or marks on his skin due to the nature of his work.

You groan quietly, aware that his manager and whatever director he was working with at the time would be pissed but it’s a sexy image, having Dieter wear your marks on his skin. “You want that? Mark you up, make you remember me?”

“Yesss.” Dieter hisses, “want to remember you. Want to see your marks on my skin long after I leave your bed. I want to feel you. In every way.” Dieter groans and twists his wrist, pumping his cock a little faster.

“You would baby.” You promise him. “I’d suck hickies into your neck and score my nails down your back.” You grin when you hear him whimper. “Does it feel good baby? Is your cock getting harder? Does it ache?”

"Fuck. It does. It's - I need - can I cum? Please ma'am. Can I cum?" He begs, needing to orgasm and it's almost painful to touch his cock but he keeps pumping himself, needing that release.

You want to deny him, to draw it out, but you decide to be nice. “You can cum baby.” He tells you. “Cum for me, baby boy.”

“Yes. Yes. Fuck. Baby. Oh shit.” He pants, eyes clenched as he pumps his coco frantically, hot cum spurting across his sheets and across his chest. He lets out an almost inhuman sound as he orgasms.

You listen to him through the phone, feeling your cunt clench at how sexy it sounds. There’s something so wrong about this, but you also love it. Love the power you hold even if he doesn’t know it’s you. “Good boy, fuck, work out every drop.”

He wrings himself dry, cum drying on his skin and sheets as he closes his eyes, nearly dropping the phone from how hard he cums. God, he's addicted to this. To hearing you. To wanting you. "Fuck, I - I think I fuckin' - I nearly blacked out." He reveals with a soft chuckle.

You giggle quietly and hum. “That good, baby?” You ask softly, knowing he will be ending the call soon but he’s already spent three times the normal amount of time on the phone.

“So good.” He murmurs, lust drunk on you as he keeps his eyes closed, enjoying the sound of your voice. “I- I wanna stay on the phone with you all night. Let me - let me just listen to you.” He pleads, wanting to feel connected to you.

“You want to listen to me?” You ask, surprised by the request. “I had planned on taking a bath.” Your apartment might be a tiny hole in the wall, but it has a bathtub. “Are you sure you want to listen to that?”

“Yeah. I wanna listen. Talk to you when you want. I- I want to feel like I have someone nearby. I get lonely.” He confesses, opening his eyes and looking out at his vast pool deck. His home is one that many would kill for but it feels so hollow to him.

“Oh.” Your frown is soft and sad. You hate that he feels lonely. “Do you have any friends? Family? You talked about missing your family yesterday.”

Dieter scoffs, “my family- they only want to know me now to pay for their shit. My friends? They aren’t friends. They want me because of the connections I have. The things I can buy. They aren’t real friends. If I lost everything, none of them would even think twice about me.”

You know that the people he hangs out with are shallow and that’s true. If he wasn’t rich and famous, they would move onto someone else. “That’s not fair.” You tell him honestly. “People deserve to be appreciated for who they are, not what they can do for you.”

Dieter sighs, “a symptom of the industry I'm in.” He says without remembering what he told you he does. He doesn’t care now, too relaxed and enamored with you to truly care if you know the truth about him. “What about you? Do you have friends? Family?”

“I- I don’t really talk to my parents.” You admit quietly. “They are….ridged and it has to be their way or they threaten to disown you.” You snort, reminding yourself that you had basically told them ‘good’ the last time they threatened you and packed your shit and left. It was Christmas two years ago when you started working for Dieter. You had spoken to them twice since then.

“Sounds like bullshit. Why do parents think they can control us so much?” He scoffs, “using us to fulfill the dreams they were too shit scared to ever go for. It’s ridiculous. Not that I would ever have the chance to be a father but if I did, I would never allow them to live their life according to my desires. It’s not - I want my kid or kids to be happy. That’s all that would matter.”

“You want kids?” You zero in on that. “How many would you want? Boy or a girl? I’ve always been the type that’s wanted one of each, maybe a set of twins.”

“Twins? That would be - God. One of each. I want to feel important to someone. Kids - they don’t care about your previous sins. They love you regardless and you get a chance to be a better parent than your parents were to you. I desperately want to redeem myself somehow. I want one of each.” Dieter decides even though he can’t keep a relationship to save his life.

Dieter with kids would be a sight to see. He would either love it or hate it. You could kind of see him becoming obsessed with the kids if you were honest. “One of each.” You hum in agreement. “Teach your son to be a gentleman and your daughter to not take shit from anyone. Love them unconditionally.”

Dieter smiles against the phone, “exactly. I want my children to have a better life, be more mentally stable.” He snorts and knows he needs to talk to his therapist next week. “Are you gonna get into the bath?” Dieter asks, grabbing the wipes he keeps in his nightstand to clean himself up.

“Yes.” You stand up and move towards your bathroom, snagging your headphones so you can charge your phone. “I feel like soaking in a bath after today. Too bad I don’t have some wine to drink, or someone to share it with.”

“I’d love to get in the bath with you, baby.” Dieter says, cleaning up and he tosses the wipes aside onto his nightstand. “I’d get you some wine. Rub your feet. Rub your shoulders.” He promises, imagining relaxing completely like that.

“Do you have a big bathtub?” You giggle. “We would be squeezed tight in mine.” You admit. “Sometimes it barely fits me when there’s bubbles.”

“I have a big bathtub.” He brags playfully, “you could ride my cock in that bathtub and still have enough room to relax after.” He smirks, “we could have wine and order take out. I’ve never really had a homey relationship like it. It’s always been clubs and fancy restaurants. I want movies on the sofa and takeouts.”

“You should. You deserve to have the kind of relationship you want.” You tell him adamantly as you start the water to warm up. “Honestly? I hate going out to clubs. My boss loves them and I just have to fend off creepy, drunk men and it’s too loud. You can’t talk to anyone there. You have to shout your order to the waitress.” You admit. “Plus, you could always cook together. Make dinner together? I would love to have a relationship like that.”

“That sounds like a dream but it’s not in the cards for me. I’ve made my bed. Now I gotta lie in it.” He sighs and rubs his cheek, “I hate clubs. I pretend to love them because everyone else does and yeah, at some point I loved going to the club but that stopped like ten years ago. I’m too old for that shit now.”

“You can change anything you don’t like.” You put in your ear buds and start to strip down, testing the water with your toe before stepping into the bath. “You aren’t at a nightclub tonight. Why don’t you go run a bath too and we can take one together?”

Dieter is tempted. “Sure. Let me go run the bath.” He shuffles out of bed and groans at the pinch in his back. Maybe a bath is a good idea considering how his back has been today. Filming isn’t as easy as it used to be and he is struggling after filming for weeks on end. He pours some bubble bath his ex left there when she would use the bath while he worked and he groans when he’s finally sinking into the water.

“That feels good, baby?” You hear the splashing and the groaning as he gets into the tub. “A hot bath is always good at the end of a long day. The one good thing about traveling with my boss is the rooms booked for me always have a big tub.”

“Well that’s a plus. He sounds like a fucking dick apart from that.” Dieter snorts and leans his head back against the edge. “I- I really want to meet you.” He confesses after you go silent, “like…not tomorrow or next week, but at some point.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Daniel.” You use the name he gave you on purpose, reminding him that he’s keeping something from you too. “I’m afraid we won't live up to each other’s expectations. Maybe one day.”

He bites his lip, knowing it was a stupid idea. He’s lied to you about who he is. “Yeah. You’re right. I, uh, I think it’s best we keep it like this.” He says after clearing his throat. “You came earlier, right?” He asks, wanting to make sure you enjoyed yourself too.

You relax, happy that he’s seeking reason and lean back on the lip of the tub to soak. “I actually didn’t.” You reveal softly. “I was wrapped up in listening to you and stopped touching myself. I enjoyed it though.”

"I want you to cum." Dieter whines, "I want you to cum for me. You always sound so sweet when you cum." He coos, "I wish I could suck on your tits, I want to lick that sweet pussy. I know you are so fucking sweet. Like candy. I'd spend hours between your thighs."

You’ve never actually cum with Dieter on the phone but you slip your hands between your thighs. “You would? You would spend all day licking my pussy if I told you to?” You ask, starting to circle your clit with your fingers, moaning quietly. “Bite my tits? I like a little pain too.”

"I'd do whatever you want. I'd be yours." He promises, "are you touching that cute little clit for me?" Dieter asks and he smirks when you breathlessly reply "yes." 

He groans softly, "good. Squeeze your tit, want you to pinch your nipple and imagine it's me."

You follow his order, finding you getting wetter when he’s talking to you with a low, raspy voice. “Fuck.” You whimper, rolling your nipple between your fingers.

“That’s it, baby. Keep going baby. Pinch it again.” He orders. Your whimper goes straight to his cock but he’s too old to get hard again so soon. “Now…I want you to slide your hand down to your pussy, find your clit and rub around it. Don’t touch it.” He orders, wanting to control your pleasure like you controlled his.

You whine, pulling your fingers from the bundle of nerves and rubbing around it like he had ordered you. Finding this dominating side of him just as sexy as the submissive side. “It’s so good baby, I bet you have thick fingers. Would you push them inside me?” You ask breathlessly.

“Yes. God, I’d push one in just to see how tight you are then I’d add another. Wanting to stretch you out to take my cock after. I want you to touch your clit now. Tell me how it feels.” He commands, the water sloshing around him.

You gasp when you press your fingers back against your clit. “So good, it’s- my stomach is tightening up. I can feel it building up inside me, taking my breath away.” You explain.

“That’s it. Good girl. I want you to cum for me. So rub that little clit. You have a hand free? Use that to push two fingers into that tight pussy. Want you to make yourself cum for me.”

“Fuck D-Daniel.” You had almost called hun Dieter but you caught yourself. Obeying him and whimpering when you slide two fingers deep and curl them up. “I’m gonna cum.” You ramble. “Can I? Can I c-cum?”

“Yes. Cum for me baby. Wanna hear you when you cum.” He orders, wanting to hear you and his cock twitches in interest. “Cum for me, Kitty.” He demands, wishing you could moan his actual name.

Your mouth drops open and you let out a long and breathless moan as you start to cum. Water splashing and your body jerking as your cunt clenches down around your fingers and pleasure courses through your body. Wondering if it is more intense because it’s your boss or because you are giving up control. Working yourself through it while Dieter pants on the other end of the phone until you slump down against the back of the tub.

Dieter listens to your orgasm and he thinks that's the prettiest sound he has ever heard. He groans softly, his cock interested and he murmurs, "that's it. Good girl. Good girl. Love to hear this. Wanna hear it all the time."

“God.” You pant, giggling drunkenly from the pleasure. “It’s been a long time since I’ve cum that hard.” You admit. “I was wearing out my wand trying to get that feeling. So thank you.”

Dieter is proud to say the least and he recognizes that you could be bullshitting him but he likes to hear it regardless. “I’m glad I could be of service.” He says teasingly. “You sound so sexy when you cum.” He says softly, “I wanna hear it again and again.”

“Glad you think so.” You smile and sink a little lower into the hot water. “Now that we are both relaxed, why don’t you tell me something? It could be anything. I don’t mind.”

Dieter thinks for a moment, humming to himself. “I - I would really love a dog. I used to have one when I was a young kid and I would love another one, but I’m always traveling and it wouldn’t be fair to make a dog wait around for me when they should be loved and cared for. Plus I think my assistant would have a cow having to look after a dog too.”

“Have you talked to her? I’m assuming your assistant is female. See what she thinks about a dog.” You personally would love to have a dog around, maybe it would help Dieter’s attitude. “Would you want a big one? There are small ones that fit in a bag. It would be easy to travel with that.”

Dieter hums, imagining his assistant handling a dog. “I guess I could ask her and see if she’s okay with it before I go to a shelter. I want to connect with the dog. Big or small…I’ll know when I meet them.” Dieter says with confidence, suddenly spurred on to get a dog.

“Is- is your assistant nice?” You ask, unsure if you really want to hear what he thinks about you but it’s an opportunity you can’t pass up. “Does she take care of you?”

“She does. She - I don’t appreciate her enough.” He confesses, “she’s - she’s incredible and she puts up with my demanding ass. I should buy her something nice to thank her. I take her for granted and I guess - it’s because I’m so focused on my job, it’s intense and it takes a lot out of me so figuring out where my meal comes from is the last thing I want to think about.”

“I can understand that, but I’m sure she knows what you like. Just like I know what my boss will eat out of every type of cuisine. Why don’t you let her take over?” You suggest. “Just tell her that you’re craving Chinese or Indian and let her take care of you.”

"Yeah. I have always been a control freak. I like things a certain way and I- I know I am harsh on her. I'm gonna try and change my ways a little." He sighs, shifting so the water splashes over the side of the tube.

At least he’s not been doing it on purpose. You can see that now. You hun and nod even though he can’t see it. “That’s okay. Just try talking to her. Tell her that you appreciate her. I wish my boss would acknowledge a fraction of what I do.”

"I'll talk to her." He promises you, "God, you are - I wish I could meet you. I bet you're gorgeous, huh? I bet you have men lining up to kneel before you." Dieter says, suddenly changing the subject.

“Oh yeah.” You droll sarcastically. “Lining up. I’ve had some men ask me out, but I’m often too busy.” You admit, Dieter often has you running errands all day after he gets done shooting. Especially when it’s on location.

“You gotta make more time for yourself.” Dieter shakes his head, the water getting colder. “We better get out of the bath.” He says, “mine is getting cold and I don’t want you getting sick.”

You want to tell him that you don’t actually get sick from cold water but it’s sweet that he cares. “Okay.” You agree, sloshing water as you stand up and reach for your towel. “What’s your nighttime routine?”

Dieter chuckles, “depends on how sober I am.” He confesses, “i get all these creams and shit so I try to use them but sometimes I forget. I am getting old and wrinkly.” He jokes, “and then I get into bed and read my - read my book to prepare for the next day.”

Reading is a surprise. You didn’t know that, you never see books beyond the pretentious ones his decorator set out. “What are you reading?” You’re interested to see what Dieter likes to read before he goes to bed. What calms him down.

"It depends on my mood. Sometimes I like a thriller. Other times I like science fiction. Right now, I'm reading The Martian. It's relaxing and I enjoy escaping into a different world." He explains, part of why he loves acting is so he can escape from himself.

“Oh I’ve read that. It’s a really good book.” You tell him with a smile on your face. “Sometimes I read on my phone when my boss is busy. When I’m not writing.”

Dieter smiles, “maybe we can form our own book club.” He says as he puts his phone on speaker to dry off after he steps out of his bath and pulls on a pair of boxers after he’s cleaned up. “I’m gonna brush my teeth.” He says, letting you hear him run the water and brush his teeth.

You rub your lotion into your face and smile. “I’ll brush my teeth too.” It’s domestic, and homey. “Don’t forget to floss.” You tease playfully.

“Never.” Dieter chuckles after he rinses and grabs his waterpik, he actually likes his teeth after enduring braces as a teenager. They are perfect and he is happy to have some part of him be perfect in the movie industry.

The next few minutes are spent relatively quiet, both of you brushing and flossing until you are satisfied with the results. “Nothing feels better than climbing into bed all clean, unless it’s to also climb into clean sheets.” You tell him, walking out of your bathroom and into your tiny bedroom.

“Ooo yes. I love when my housekeeper changes the sheets and it’s all snuggly.” He confesses and he groans as he slides into bed and turns the light off. “I guess you gotta get some sleep, huh?” Dieter asks, pouting slightly as he lays in bed in the dark.

“I do. My boss has to be up really early and he is an ass if I’m not there with his coffee.” You tell him, swapping coffee for tea when you are describing him to himself. “He made one barista cry because she didn’t have the kind of drink he wanted.”

“Jesus. He sounds like an absolute dick. I’ll let you go baby. Speak tomorrow?” He asks and you hum, “yes of course.” 

Dieter smiles, “sleep well, Kitty Kat.” He grins against the phone.

 “Sleep tight.” You respond and he chuckles as the line goes dead. He’s spent a crazy amount of money tonight on the call but he’s never felt happier, more relaxed, and comfortable. He dreams of meeting Kitty when he eventually falls asleep.

**** 

It’s been weeks since you’ve started talking to Dieter every night, and you are grateful for it. It’s the only way that you are making any headway in the money to owe. It still amazes you that he still hasn’t recognized your voice, although he has been more considerate. “Maury!” You huff, rolling your eyes when Dieter’s older dog he had adopted head butts your leg. “You want to go out, boy?” You ask him with a smile on your face as you reach for his leash.

The dog pants as you leash him and Dieter walks into his trailer, bending down to greet the dog. “Hey boy. You okay in here while I’m gone?” He asks as the dog licks his face and he chuckles, letting him. “I know, buddy. We will be leaving soon, okay? I gotta shower while you’re on your walk then we will pick up some tacos on the way home.” He promises and rubs his head. Dieter looks up at you, “you, uh, wanna grab tacos? My treat?” He asks, knowing he has to be better to you. Kitty would want him to be nicer to you.

Your eyes widen slightly and you nod. “Uh, sure, if you’re serious.” You tell him. “I’ll take Maury on his walk.” The fact that you’ve started falling for Dieter is solely because of the nightly conversations you have. “If you don’t have plans for tonight that it would interfere with?”

Dieter shakes his head, “no. I don’t have plans.” He had told his PR he wanted a break from the fake dating and they had conceded. “See you after and we will go to that place with the outdoor seating so we can bring Maury.” He says, knowing that the outdoor section is secluded and he won’t be disturbed by paps there.

“Sure.” You guide Maury out the door and try not to imagine your boss in his shower. You are slightly addicted to the conversations you have and wonder if he’s going to call you tonight once you leave.

Dieter is quick to clean up and redress in his sweats. He loves to wear shitty clothes to piss off the paps if they capture him so he is soon grabbing his backpack and you are following him and Maury to the taco place in your car. He wants to call Kitty tonight, tell her how much nicer he’s trying to be since she told him to attempt to be good to his assistant.

“Thank you.” You murmur quietly. “This is very sweet of you.” You acknowledge with a smile as you kneel down to pat Maury. “Do you want some tacos, boy? I hear they have a sweet potato taco on the menu now, specifically for your dog.”

Dieter lights up at that, “really? Damn, Mau, looks like it’s tacos for all.” He says and opens the door to his car so Maury can jump in. “Meet you there?” Dieter asks, knowing you know his favorite taco shop. It’s nothing fancy and that’s what he loves. It’s normal.

“Sure can.” You nod and walk over to your older car and climb inside. You crank it up and wait for Dieter to pull out. Impressed that he’s not still driving like a maniac like he normally does when he’s doing a lot of drugs.

Dieter taps his fingers to the song playing on the radio and for once, he feels happy. He hasn’t been taking as many drugs. Honestly not wanting to be high when he speaks to Kitty so he’s calmed it down to only when he’s super anxious or needs to sleep. He glances in the mirror at you following him in that piece of shit car you own and he wonders if he should offer to help you out to get a newer car. He doesn’t want something to happen to you. For some reason, he’s grown closer to you since he’s started talking to Kitty and he finds himself imagining what you’d taste like if he were to kiss you. Absolutely insane when he’s pretty sure he’s falling in love with Kitty but he feels a connection to you he can’t explain. He’d never risk it, you’re an amazing assistant and he can’t lose you. He knows that now. When he pulls into the parking lot, he cuts the engine to his car and gets out, grabbing Maury who is wagging his tail and Dieter chuckles, “come on boy. Taco time.”

You find a parking spot and cut your engine, sure that you heard a knocking sound and praying that it wasn’t going to be something expensive. You have a neighbor that is always offering to look at it, maybe you’ll take him up on it. You smile when you see Maury excited and Dieter waiting for you. “Tacos and maybe a beer. God, I could use one.” You joke.

“Beer sounds good.” Dieter nods, guiding you to one of the outside tables. “What do you want?” He asks after he hands you a menu once you’re seated and settled, Maury laying down at your feet under the table. The waitress comes over and Dieter orders two beers and some water for Maury. “I was thinking…your car is literally gonna die any moment. Can I help you? Like…give you some money or something so you can get something else?”

You bite your lip, wanting so badly to take Dieter up on his offer. You need another car but you also know that most offers for help, especially giving money comes with stipulations. “I don’t know.” You shake your head. “I don’t want to feel like I’m taking advantage of you.” You tell him. “You have enough people doing that.”

Dieter shakes his head, “I can help. I want to help. You can’t be driving around in that. It will be a death trap and I- Kitty, please let me help you.” He says without even thinking about it.

Your heart drops and for an instant, you think that he’s figured out that it’s you on the phone. You barely keep yourself from gasping but you manage to frown. “Kitty?” You ask, trying to seem curious rather than panicked. “Is that some kind of new nickname, Dieter?” You shake your head. “I appreciate the offer but I can’t take your money. I can’t pay you back.”

Dieter's eyes widen, unable to believe he called you that. It was a mistake and one he desperately wants to take back. You aren't Kitty, you are his assistant and just because he might have melded the two of you together one night when he was smoking weed doesn't mean you're the same person. He swallows, "I, uh, sorry. Thought I saw a cat." He gestures over to the empty space but Maury hates cats and usually barks his head off. You frown but he reaches out to touch your hand, "I know I have been an asshole but I want to be better. I want to help."

You bite your lip, looking into his eyes and are startled by how much he has changed since you’ve been talking to him on the phone. “Okay.” You relent with a sigh. “Maybe we can find a cheap used car? And I’ll pay you back every week. It might take me a million years, but I will.” You promise.

Dieter nods, “pick what you want. I - I don’t care about the budget. As long as it’s safe and works. I don’t want you breaking down on the side of the road and something happening to you.” Dieter says softly until he clears his throat, “It’s too much fucking hassle to find a good assistant nowadays.” He says, pulling down the blinds on his emotions as the waitress brings your beers.

You chuckle quietly, used to the offhanded comments that completely takes the sweetness out of whatever he has just done. Self sabotaging is what his therapist had told him. “And I’m the best.” You tease, picking up your beer and holding it up in salute before taking a sip.

Dieter can't argue there. He sets the water down for Maury and picks up his beer, "you are the best." He admits softly, his stomach twisting with an unknown emotion and he clears his throat when the waitress comes over to take your orders.

You order your tacos, grinning when Maury’s taco order is put in and then Dieter orders a plate very similar to yours. “When you wanted me to come here, I fell in love with the food.” You admit. “It’s tiny but it’s amazing.”

“Right? And it’s private. Probably my favorite part about it is that I don’t get bothered by paps or fans.” He confesses, “and it doesn’t hurt that the food is fucking incredible.” He winks, “how’s everything in your - your personal life?” Dieter asks, wanting to try and be more interactive with you like Kitty suggested.

“Nothing much.” You shrug vaguely. “Most nights I’m busy. I got another job.” You tell him. “One that won’t interfere with my job with you.” You add, not wanting him to think you would slack off. “Just been trying to focus on the future.”

Dieter hates to hear that you’ve gotten another job. “Why - why do you have another job? Am I not paying you enough?” He asks, concerned that you’re doing too much. He doesn’t want you to be worn out by working too hard.

You’ve talked to Dieter about your money issues as Kitty so you shake your head. “I’m bored at night. When we travel so much and have such odd hours, I can’t really have a social life. So I figured I could earn extra money to put away.”

Dieter leans back, taking in your answer, and he sighs. “I’m sorry. I guess I don’t think about your social life. I- I can be a dick. A selfish dick and I’m sorry that you don’t have a social life because of me.” He mumbles, his gaze cutting across the street.

“Don’t worry about that.” The need to comfort him makes you reach across the table and touch his hand. Something you wouldn’t have dreamed of doing a few months ago. “We have busy lives and I knew that when I came to work for you.”

Dieter turns his brown eyes back to yours, “I know. I- I don’t think I can keep doing this forever. It’s lonely. Not knowing who your real friends are. Not having a family. It’s, uh, it’s wearing me down now.” He confesses, squeezing your hand as he takes it in his.

“You are a talented, handsome and charming man.” You remind him. “If you want to have a family, there is someone out there that would be thrilled to make that commitment to you.” You promise, wishing you could tell him that you’ve been falling in love with him when you talk to him as Kitty. “They’d be crazy not to.”

Dieter snorts, “you can barely stand me. Imagine a partner? They’d kick me to the curb after I have to cancel too many dates because of last minute reshoots. Or someone who can’t sit by and watch me film sex scenes even though they are literally the least sexy thing ever. I can’t be dealing with that drama on top of everything else.” He sighs, shaking his head.

You hate that he’s pulled away, his hand slipping from yours as he wallows in self pity. “Your job is demanding and important. While yes, you have been a dick, you’ve been getting better. If someone couldn’t handle the scheduling and the sex scenes, they don’t deserve to be with you and reap the benefits of the career you’ve created.” You argue. “Get someone who doesn’t give a shit that you are ‘Dieter Bravo, Oscar winner”. Find someone who wants you, the man, not the fucking PR campaign.”

Dieter swallows harshly, knowing your words are pretty but his life is too ugly for most to understand, let alone see the real him. The insecure mess that has to console himself with drugs to just endure the day. “When you find that someone, let me know.” He chuckles softly, picking up his beer to take a long swig.

“Sure will.” You tell him, flashing him a grin even though you feel like crying. “Don’t complain when I remind you about this on your wedding day.”

Dieter snorts, “now that would be a fucking result.” He thinks about Kitty for a moment until the waitress comes over and sets your plates down. “Two taco plates and I’ll be back with the plate for the fur baby. You two make a super cute couple by the way.” She comments with a smile and strides off.

You stifle a giggled watching as Dieter seems to have some kind of internal struggle with how he should react to the compliment. “Don’t worry.” You reach for the bottle of hot sauce on the table. “I won’t read into it, or start calling you baby, slipping into your bed or anything.”

The way you say ‘baby’ itches his brain and he’s so sure he’s heard that before. It sounds so familiar. Part of him wants to say he wants you to slip into bed but he swallows that down. He lets out an awkward chuckle and picks up his taco, wanting to eat instead. The waitress brings the tacos for Maury and sets them down so the dog can dig in too.

“Good boy, Maury.” You coo as the older dog tears into the tacos. “Sweet potatoes are good for you.” You praise, picking up one of your own tacos to take a bite of it. “I’m so glad you got Maury. He’s such a sweetheart as it seems like you really love having him around.”

The “good boy” coming from your lips makes his cock twitch but he shoves that aside and murmurs “I love having him. He’s - he is the best.” Dieter smiles at the dog and goes back to his meal. “I’ll get this.” Dieter insists when the check comes up, “the least I can do. And seriously, look into another car. I don’t want to lose you.”

“Remember I need my job.” You smile, watching Dieter pay for dinner and you turn your attention back to Maury. “I promise I will start looking.” you tell him. “See what is out there.”

Dieter nods, satisfied with your answer, and he finishes his beer. “I’m sure you wanna get home. We have a long day tomorrow.” He says, standing up and bending down to pick up Maury’s lead.

“We do.” You know that you shouldn’t pry but you need to. “What are you going to do when you get home?” You ask curiously.

“I, uh, usually read my script for the next day and then I make some calls.” He says nonchalantly and as vaguely as possible. He wants to call Kitty as soon as he’s home, tell her about his day and how he’s trying to be a better person.

“That’s good. At least you have a plan.” You walk with him out of the tiny restaurant and towards your cars. “Well, I'm going to go home, you call me if you need anything, okay boss?”

Dieter nods, “thanks for having dinner with me.” He says and you offer him a smile that makes his stomach twist. “Of course.” He murmurs and guides Maury over to his car. He waits until you are in yours before he leaves. 

**** 

“Hey, Kitty Cat.” Dieter smiles when you pick up the phone, “how’s your day been?” He is always excited to hear your voice and listen to you.

“Hey baby.” You purr into the phone, feeling buoyed by your time off the phone with Dieter. “My day has been good, but it’s better now. How has yours been? Still enjoying taking Maury for walks after work?”

“Yes. I love taking him out on walks. He’s such a good boy.” He grins, loving how the dog he found in the shelter and he knows Kitty played a big part in him finding his dog. “I missed talking to you today.”

“Yeah? What did you want to talk to me about, baby?” You ask, grinning slightly because he has been talking to you, he just didn’t realize it was his Kitty. “Did something bad happen?”

“No. No. I just miss hearing your voice.” He smiles against the phone. He dreads to think about how much he’s spent on these calls but he knows that every penny helps Kitty out and he doesn’t begrudge that at all.

“You are always so sweet.” You tell him softly. “I don’t know why you keep calling yourself an asshole.” One thing that you’ve learned from these conversations is that Dieter has a horrible self image. He thinks the worst about himself in almost every sense and the bravado he puts on is just that, an act. “I’ve been thinking about you. How was your day?”

“It was good. I am getting closer to being done with my latest project at work and I’m working on building better relationships. I took my assistant to have tacos after we finished work. With Maury. It was fun. She - she’s so good at her job. I feel so guilty for not treating her properly for so long.”

“I’m so glad you had fun.” You tell him honestly, feeling like he’s not just telling you that. “Developing relationships with the people you work closely with is important, not just your ‘important’ people.” You remind him.

“I know. I know. I’m working on it.” Dieter sighs, rubbing his cheek, “I know I gotta work on being a better person.” He huffs, “trying my best but it never feels like it’s enough.”

“I’m sure that it’s enough.” You assure him. “You are a wonderful man, and I know that if you are trying to change bad habits, it’s being noticed.” You don’t want to dwell on it for too long. “So you had tacos? Do you have a favorite place?”

“Yeah. There’s this place. God, it’s over on Adams. It’s so good. They have this really nice outdoor area and it’s good for Maury because they have sweet potato tacos. Apparently they are good for him.”

“Oh that’s fantastic!” You hum excitedly while you sort through your mail. Grimacing at the bills. “I’ve heard they are. Something about making their coat healthy, I think.” You tell him. “Even better, he got to join you for dinner. I bet he loved it. How is your assistant liking Maury?”

“She loves him too. He’s really brought us together. She takes him out while I’m filming. I like to take him with me to my trailer. I don’t want him getting lonely while I’m working and I don’t want to leave him at home.” He explains not realizing he slipped up and told you about his real work, “what did you have for dinner?”

“Oh, I had some leftovers from dinner last night.” You lie. You hate doing it, but you can’t have too many coincidences. “I wish I had tacos. I love tacos.”

“I can buy you all the tacos you want.” Dieter blurts out, “I, uh, I mean, I want to buy you all the tacos you want. How’s work going? Is your boss being nicer?” Dieter asks, shifting from his spot on the sofa

“He’s getting better.” You sigh. “Although I don’t know if it’s going to last. He can change his colors like he changes his socks.” You laugh. “So you’re almost done with your work project? I bet you’re excited.”

“Yeah but then I have to go away for a press - pressing matter. I’ll be gone for a few weeks.” He nearly messes up and says press junket. With a sigh, he slumps down on his bed, Maury already snoring in his bed across the room.

“Oh, I hope nothing is wrong.” You offer, letting him slide on that little slip up. You know he’s trying to keep his profession a secret from Kitty. “If there is anything I can do, you let me know?”

“Yeah I will. I- I just want to hear your voice. You always sound so sweet. I bet you taste sweet too.” He says without really thinking. “I wanna taste you, Kitty Cat.”

"Ohhhh someone's horny tonight?" You hum, smiling against the phone. You know that Dieter hasn't been out with his PR date for a while and you've not had to call Uber for the random strangers that he could pick up and bring home when he's left to his own devices, so he's just not been getting any. Unless you count his hand. "Would you duck under the table and lick my pussy for me?"

Dieter groans, “yes. I’d risk it. Just to taste you. Get down under the table and spread your legs. Lick that sweet little pussy until your hand slams down on the table because you’re trying to keep quiet. Fuck, I’d do it. For you, I’d do anything.” He confesses, his cock hardening at the thought of touching you, tasting you.

You moan quietly, imagining Dieter Bravo sliding under a table in public and using his tongue on you. He is brazen enough to do it. “It would be so hard to keep quiet, I just know it.” You tell him breathlessly. “And I would do the same for you. Get down on my knees and suck your cock while you read. See how much you remember when my tongue is swirling around your cock and sucking on it.”

“When was the last time you had a slow, gentle blow job?” You ask, curious about his once vigorous sex life. “Someone taking their time and just drawing it out while you moan and relax. Maybe rubbing your puckered hole and fingering you while swallowing around you.”

“Jesus Christ.” Dieter hisses, “I don’t - I don’t remember. Usually it’s quick and urgent because I - I want to get to sex. God that sounds so good. You’d do that for me?” He asks breathlessly.

“Yes.” You promise him. “No matter how much you beg me to sit on your cock or let you fuck me, I’ll take my time. Slowly make you cum down my throat until you are slumped into your chair and unable to move, you are so relaxed.”

“Shit. You’re too good to me. After you make me cum, I’d want you to sit on my face. Use me to orgasm over and over. Wanna hear those pretty moans as you rock down onto my chin while I tongue fuck you.” He groans, “wanna taste you.”

“Fuck.” You feel yourself getting wet and your hand slides down to unbutton your jeans. “After I rode your face, would you want me to ride your cock? Or would you want to fuck me?”

“God, baby.” He groans, unable to help himself as he reaches down to squeeze himself through his boxers. “I want you to ride me. Want you to make yourself cum over and over again. I want you to deny me so you can get as much pleasure as you want. As you need.”

You wish he would let you ride him. Your attraction to Dieter has become almost painful and every night you think of him while you use your vibrator. “Yeah, baby? You’ll be my good boy and let me use that cock? Cum all over it until you are soaked with my cum?”

“Yes. Yes. I’ll be your good boy.” He promises, “I want to be your good boy.” He wraps his fingers around his aching cock. “Are you touching yourself, pretty girl?” He asks.

You whimper, sliding two fingers inside your wet cunt. “Yes.” You confess. “Are you stroking your cock? Thinking of me?”

“Yes. So hard. Pre-cum is literally leaking out of me. I think you’re so hot. So fucking hot.” He hisses when he squeezes his cock and starts to pump himself. “So fucking beautiful. I know you are. I know you’d look so pretty sitting on my cock. I wanna feel it. I wanna see it.” He whines with desperation.

“One day.” You feel so guilty when he talks of needing to meet you. Knowing that he is with you everyday and yet he is just now starting to get to know the real you. He would be so disappointed by the ruination of his fantasy girl. “Close your eyes and imagine me riding your cock baby.” You coo. “Tits bouncing and cunt tight around you.”

Dieter groans, closing his eyes like you asked and he sees his assistant. Mouth opening and moaning his name as she rides his cock. Fuck, he can see it. Can touch her. “Fuck, so pretty. I wanna - wanna see you cum.” He pants, speaking to his assistant, imagining her instead of Kitty. He knows it’s a lot to process, his feelings for both women, but he finds himself merging them together in instances like this.

“Oh fuck…” your fingers curl deep and you pant slightly when you find that spot deep inside you. “I’m going to baby, you’re gonna make me cum.” Any guilt you have at masturbating with Dieter on the phone has been left behind, enjoying yourself with him on the phone is what he wants. “My fingers aren’t as good as your cock. I bet your cock will make me scream.”

“Yes. Yes. God, I’d make you scream so loud the neighbors will call the police. I’d want you to soak my cock.” He pants, pumping his fist even harder, pulling down the foreskin to swipe the head with every move and he’s so close.

You moan nearly saying his real name but you just manage to cut yourself off. “Deee.” You pant, breathing heavily. “I need you to make me cum baby, I need it so bad.”

“Cum for me. Rub that pretty little clit for me baby.” He coos, his eyes still closed as he imagines his pretty assistant cumming on his cock. He is so close but he wants to hear you cum first. He needs to hear it. “Cum for me baby. Cum for me.”

“Oh fuck, oh fuck.” You whine, shaking as you move to rub your clit. You’re so close it only takes a few swipes of your fingers before you are flying. “Baby!” You choke out, legs shaking as you cum.

Hearing you cum sends Dieter over the edge. 

He lets out a strangled “fuck” before he orgasms, his cum spurting across his chest and his sheets and down his fist. “Fuck.” He pants, the words he wants to say are on the tip of his tongue but he swallows them down.

You hum quietly, basking in the aftershocks. “That was good baby, did you enjoy yourself? I love when we cum so close together.”

“Me too. So good. It’s always so good.” Dieter mumbles, lost in the pleasure, and he’s telling the truth. He has never cum this hard, even during orgies or with sexual partners one on one. That voice - it just hypnotizes him and he can’t hold back.

“I’m glad you enjoy yourself baby.” You coo softly. “I like talking to you every night. It’s the highlight of my day.” You admit with a smile. Every night you go to sleep right after hanging up with Dieter. You’ve even watched tv together sometimes.

“Same here.” He murmurs, knowing there’s so much to say but it’s unlikely you feel the same way. He’s certain a big part of this is you getting paid and that makes him feel dirty but he loves speaking to you. He’s become a better person because of you. “I, uh, I better clean up.” He murmurs, frowning at the way his heart pounds.

“Do you want to take a bath together or do you want me to let you go?” You frown slightly, aware that his tone has changed and you wonder if something is wrong. “It’s up to you.”

“I better get some sleep.” He says, confused by his feelings, “I’m gonna have a quick shower and get into bed.” He murmurs, shuffling out of his bed and into the bathroom. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow?” He asks, his heart aching and his head throbbing with confusion.

“Of course.” You frown slightly, wondering if you need to text him as his assistant from your other phone. “You can call me anytime baby, you know that.” You remind him. “Have a good night and sweet dreams.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” Dieter smiles sadly against the phone. He’s fallen for the voice on the other end of the phone and he’s also fallen for his assistant. He’s torn. He knows his assistant, can touch her, but he doesn’t want to fuck up the best thing that’s happened to him with Kitty who he doubts would ever meet him in person. He’s shallow, one of his worst qualities, and he wonders if Kitty has something extremely wrong like a third leg or some weird shit like that and that’s why she won’t meet even though she’s in L.A. He sighs, head aching so he showers and finds some aspirin, passing out in his bed from emotional and mental exhaustion.

**** 

The next day, you can tell that there is something wrong with Dieter but you can’t quite figure out why. He’s quiet and subdued but you can feel his eyes on you as you go about setting his schedule and doing for him. “Is there anything else you need right now, boss?” You ask, sending him a reassuring smile as he looks up from his script. “I picked up your drying cleaning for the press junket, the outfits will look very good.”

“Great. Thanks for doing that.” Dieter offers you a small smile and he lays his script down in his lap. “Nothing else I need.” He says, “go take a break. I’m gonna take a nap, probably.” He says and you nod, reaching for your purse but you leave your backpack on the floor. After so long working with Dieter, it’s become a habit to have a second bag with essentials just in case you end up staying overnight somewhere or need a change of clothes. You leave and Dieter sighs, rubbing his cheek. He is battling within himself and he doesn’t know what to do. He sighs and reaches for his phone, deciding to dial the familiar number to see what his heart truly wants. Selecting Kitty’s number, he listens to the dial tone and he’s confused when he hears a ringtone coming from your backpack. He’s never heard that tone before. He frowns when Kitty doesn’t answer and the phone stops ringing from your bag. Deciding to try again, he’s even more confused when the ringtone sounds once again. Ever curious, he gets up and opens your bag, knowing it’s wrong but he soon locates the small flip phone. His cell hangs up and the phone stops ringing. He can’t help it. He rings again and the contact on the flip phone comes up with “Dieter/Daniel” and he feels sick. Staring at the phone as it rings, he doesn’t know what to think. You’re Kitty. This is Kitty’s phone. You’re the same person.

After getting your drink, you realize that you had forgotten your laptop. Figuring that you would sit outside at craft services and do a little writing while Dieter naps. He should be back in his bedroom in the trailer, so you will slip inside and grab it. Opening the door, and stepping inside, your eyes widen when you see Dieter holding the familiar flip phone that you use every night when you talk to him. Your heart drops and want to shrink back when he turns his eyes towards you and his expression is devastated. “Dieter, I-“

“You’re - It’s you. You’re Kitty?” He practically chokes as he stares at you in shock. “You- you’re the one I’ve been talking to every night. You didn’t - oh my God. You didn’t tell me it was you and I’ve been- shit. I- holy fuck. It’s you.” He chokes, trying to mentally piece everything together but his body feels like it’s on fire and he doesn’t know what to do.

“Dieter, I- I can explain.” You start pathetically. “I wanted to say something, to tell you, but I thought you just wanted the fantasy. That you would be upset when you found out I knew.”

Dieter shakes his head, getting angry. “Was this a fucking joke to you? ‘Oh my poor fucking boss. He can afford to pay me and also pay my sex line. And I’ll laugh at him while we talk’  I bet you were sat there trying to hold back the tears from laughing while I - while I fucking jerked off. I bet you got off the phone and had a good fucking giggle about how pathetic I am and how much you were getting from me. Am I - do I look like a fucking idiot? Is that why you did this?” He asks, tears stinging in his eyes at the betrayal.

“No.” You gasp, shaking your head. “It wasn’t like that at all. I promise you-“ 

“You fucking lied to me!” Dieters shouts, making you jump at the venom in voice. 

Your own eyes start to water. “I didn’t laugh at you.” You insist. “Our - our talks were real.”

Dieter shakes his head, stepping back from you. “You were laughing at me. I bet you thought this was some kind of revenge, huh? Make me look dumb. Get me to tell you all my fucking secrets and then you’d - what? Blackmail me? Sell it to the Enquirer or TMZ?” He chokes, feeling betrayed by the two women in his life that have turned out to be the same person.

“Never.” You promise him, shaking your head and your heart breaking. His expression is pure disgust and you want to cry. “I’d never tell anyone. I just- I started working phone sex because I needed the money. And you called and I was surprised but then I liked talking to you, I really enjoyed our calls.”

“Bullshit. I know you hate me. I know I make your life hell. Why- why would you do this?” Dieter chokes, “why would you do this to me? Why didn’t you tell me right away that it was you?”

“I was embarrassed!” You snap. “I had to take a phone sex job so I didn’t lose my apartment or ruin my credit.” Your own tears start running down your cheeks. “I was- I don’t know. I didn’t think you would want to know that the girl you were jerking off to was the same one who brought you your coffee and couldn’t possibly get your fucking lunch order right.”

Dieter shakes his head again, in complete disbelief. “I don’t give a fuck. I - you should’ve told me. I can’t do this. I’m sorry. I- I told you - I told you so many things I’ve never told anyone and you didn’t say a word.” He swears he’s about to cry but he stays strong enough to say “you’re fired. Get your shit and get the fuck out of my trailer.”

You feel like you’ve been punched in the gut, knowing you can’t afford to lose your job. Not for long. You can barely see through your tears as you grab your bag and take off the key to Dieter’s house that was on your key ring. Finally, you hold your hand out for the flip phone that is still in Dieter’s hand. “I’m sorry.” You offer quietly.

Dieter can’t talk, he slaps the phone into your hand, his brown eyes watery as he watches you and he hates losing you but the betrayal cuts him deep right now. He stares as you take the phone and he lets you walk out of the trailer, his heart breaking with every step you take.

You rush to your car, not acknowledging anyone and barely keeping it together until you get behind the wheel. Once safe, you break down, sobbing and leaning your head against the steering wheel as you cry. You don’t know what just happened but you know that Dieter hates you.

Dieter slumps down in the chair, confused and feeling betrayed by you. You concealed this information from him and he’s so hurt that you could be so deceptive. “Fuck!” He growls, reaching out and shoving everything off of the table in front of him. 

**** 

A few days pass with Dieter having to lie to his management about why he fired you. Even worse, he keeps picking up his phone to call you. He wants to call Kitty, to talk about how he feels, but Kitty is you and you are Kitty. His head still aches at the news, his heart is broken at the news that the women he fell in love with are one and the same which he should be overjoyed about but she lied. He picks up his phone for the fiftieth time and finally, he snaps. He tosses the phone so hard it hits the wall, smashing, and he pants as he stares at it until the realization hits. He rushes over to pick it up, pressing the button to turn it on. “No. No. No.” He panics. He doesn’t know your number or Kitty’s number by heart. It’s gone. His last connection to you is gone.

No one will hire you. Your eyes water when the last agency, a sketchy one, tells you that you’ve been blacklisted. Becoming an assistant for another celebrity is out of the question, Dieter went scorched earth out of spite apparently. It hurts just as bad as that first night that he didn’t call you. You had expected it. More questions, possibly a drunk former boss accusing you of leaking his secrets but the silence had hurt you even more. You sigh and shake your head. You had been hired on to work as a waitress in a diner, odd shifts that no one wanted and yet you know you need another job too. You just need to find one.

Dieter is glad the movie has finished and he may have gotten drunk at the wrap party. He had offers from people on set and from the studio to go home with him but he ended up going home alone, unable to go home with anyone after he had such a connection with Kitty/you. He gets into the car he was assigned for the evening and he orders the driver to go to your house. He gets out and rings the doorbell after he arrives and he slumps down on the doorstep when you aren’t in. He isn’t sure how long he waits there until your car pulls into the driveway.

Getting home, you sigh as you put the car into park and curse yourself for ever accepting Dieter’s help getting a new car. It’s just another crushing debt on you and despite the fact that he had fired you, you were still going to pay him back for every penny. You needed to make sure that you made it to your next shift so you could send the money to his accountant like you have been. Dieter would never know, but you would and you hadn’t even been late on a payment so far. Now you just need to get into your apartment and sleep for the next four hours so you can be up for your next job on time. Slowly climbing out of the car, you realize someone is waiting on the doorstep and you warily approach with your keys in your fist until you recognize your former boss. “Dieter!” You huff, too exhausted to even be relieved it’s not someone robbing you. “What are you doing here? Go home, I’ve got four hours of sleep to get.” You move past him to unlock your door.

Dieter stumbles as he stands up, “no. No. I won’t leave. Not until -” He hiccups, “until you tell me why- why you did it? Was it to mess with me? Or did you want to do something to fuck with my head? Or was it funny? I want to know why.” He says, waving his arms around.

“I didn’t call you, you called me, remember?” You hiss, pushing your door open and your feet are killing you. It’s late and you are exhausted. All you want to do is take your bra off and sleep for a few hours before you have to go back to work. “I was shocked when you called and I- I was curious if you were as big of a dick to everyone as you were to me.” You tell him, “happy? Now go home. I have to sleep.”

Dieter shakes his head, following you into your place and he repeats his question, “why did you do it? Keep talking to me? We - I told you things about myself that I haven’t told anyone. Why did you not - why didn’t you tell me?” He chokes, hating you and loving you all at the same time.

“Dieter-“ you turn around, ready to kick him out and fall into your bed, but his face is scrunched up and sad. Making you think of a kicked puppy. “Because I liked talking to you.” You admit with a sigh. “I- learning about you helped me understand why you were a dick. I just-“ you shake your head and your ears nearly pop when you yawn. “I told you things too, but I was afraid that you would fire me.” You snort. “And I was right. But I’m not going to tell anyone what you said or the fact that you called a phone sex line. Happy? Now please.” You motion towards the door. “I have three hours and fifty-two minutes of sleep I can get before I have to be at my next job.”

“You got another assistant job?” Dieter asks, shifting to sit down on your sofa and he looks up at you, ignoring the fact you need to get to sleep. 

“No. No. You managed to get me black listed, remember?” You scoff and Dieter frowns, “I didn’t do that. I swear. My manager must’ve done that. To protect my privacy.” He says, “and to - to stop me from bumping into you. I swear, I didn’t get you black listed.” He insists. 

“I have like three fucking jobs to stop me going bankrupt and to pay you back for the car you made me get.” 

Dieter shakes his head, “I was trying to make your life better because I- I realized how much of a dick I was and I wanted to be better for you. Because of you - you as Kitty.”

You sigh again, aware that you aren’t going to get to sleep until Dieter says what he needs to. You flop down onto your couch next to him and groan in pain, sore from the long shifts on your feet. “And I wasn’t trying to manipulate you.” You promise. “I didn’t use any information you gave me when I was working for you. I kept things separate, but it made me want to be better for you too.”

Dieter nods, knowing you are exhausted but he needs this closure. He swallows harshly, his throat suddenly dry as a dessert and he glances at you, “I love you. You know that? You as Kitty and you as you. I fucking love you.” He confesses, his eyes wide and glassy.

Your eyes close and your head tilts back against the cushions. “I love you too.” You confess with a small groan. “I fell in love with you while we were talking on the phone. I was scared. You never looked at me twice when I was me, your assistant me.”

Dieter squeezes his fists on his thighs, “I - I was so mad when I found that phone. Knowing that I’m in love with you. I was so fucking angry because I don’t do emotions. I don’t do connections. It gets messy and I was right. I can’t stop thinking about you. I couldn’t - I wanted to call. So many times. I even broke my fucking phone and then I freaked out because your numbers are on that phone and I couldn’t remember them. I didn’t know them. I- I - shit. Are you the same? Was it all an act or do you really love me?” He asks, wanting an answer.

“I cried when you didn’t call.” You admit softly, rolling your head forward so you can look at him. “I- talking to you had become part of me. I would ache to talk to you, to just ramble about hopes and dreams, to listen to you. I want to tell you, so many times, but I hated that you might not want me.” You sigh heavily. “It wasn’t an act.” It wasn’t, not when you spent all night talking to him and wishing you could hold him while you slept. “I really love you, Dieter. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“Baby. I-I love you.” He murmurs, “I don’t want you to work three jobs. I’ll- I’ll pay you double if you come back to me. I want to help you out. I want you by my side. Please, don’t leave me.” He pleads, reaching for your hands to squeeze them.

It sounds amazing but you shake your head. “I can’t- you already fired me once.” You remind him. “I can’t be trapped by your whims. Firing me if you get upset at me? I can’t do that.”

“I’ll have my manager put it in writing that I have to have a legitimate reason if I fired you again. I swear, I wouldn’t, I’m not that person anymore. I don’t want to lose you. I need you. I promise you that I will be better. I’ll have my manager put it in writing.” Dieter promises, not wanting to lose you.

“Dieter….” You’re too exhausted to really think about it. “I need some sleep. Either go home, or let me sleep.” You tell him. “I can’t even think right now.”

“Go shower. I’ll call Cynthia while you shower so she can get something in writing before you make your decision. I’ll make you some tea and get you a snack for you to have.” He says, completely out of his normal character but he loves you, he wants to be better.

You nod, finding that sounds amazing to not have to think. “Okay. I’ll go shower.” You moan, taking a long minute to shuffle off the couch and stand.

He watches you go and stands up to boil your kettle. He gets a good look around your place and he wrinkles his nose. He can tell you've tried to make the best of it but it's in bad condition, clearly a shitty landlord, and he feels guilty for living in a big Sherman Oaks mansion alone while you live here.

You shuffle to the bathroom, uneasy that Dieter is in your house, but you are too tired to really worry about it. stripping down and groaning at the lukewarm water that seems to be all hot water heater can produce lately. "Shit." You close your eyes and you wonder if Dieter meant what he said, if you could possibly go back to one job, maybe your phone sex job too for extra money, but not be working yourself into the ground. You wash and when you go to dress, the urge to lay down once your panties are on is overwhelming and you stretch out, immediately closing your eyes.

Dieter prepares your cup of tea and grabs a snack before he makes his way into your bedroom. His eyes widen and he nearly drops the mug in his hand when he sees you laid out on your bed topless and wearing panties. Jesus, you’re beautiful. He realizes after a moment and averts his eyes, setting the tea and snack on the dresser, then he grabs the blanket on the bed, managing to get it out from under you so he can cover you up. He doesn’t want to leave so he quickly rushes outside to tell his driver to go and then he locks up your place, making sure the front door is secure. He’s exhausted himself so he toes off his shoes and shrugs off his jacket and he wants to be close to you. It’s wrong, he should sleep on the sofa, but he makes his way into your room and lays down on the bed beside you, a good distance and a blanket away but he’s immediately comforted. He falls asleep within moments, his hand reaching for you.

When you wake up, the first thing that you notice is the light coming through the blinds, making you gasp as you bolt upright. You’ve overslept. The blanket bunches at your waist and you see Dieter sleeping next to you, reaching out in his sleep as he does. “Dieter! Oh shit, I’ve - fuck! I overslept.” You scramble out of the bed, not concerned with the fact that you are topless but you wonder if he covered you up as you rush towards your dresser to pull clothes out. “Fuck, I’m going to get fired.”

Dieter is woken up by your panic and he squints, hair everywhere as he sees you trying to pull clothes on. “Wha- what’s wrong?” He rasps, still sleepy but doesn’t stop his eyes from taking in your ass in those tiny panties.

“I overslept!” You don’t turn around, too busy pulling out clothes to wear. “I- my alerts didn’t go off and I’m going to be late.” You curse and fling another shirt out of your way. You’ve been so busy you’ve just shoved your clothes into the drawers.

Dieter shakes his head, “no. No. You don’t have to go. I - I promised I’d pay you double to come back to me.” He says, confused about your panic and the way you’re shoving your bra on. “Please baby, Don’t put yourself through this shit. Let me help you.”

“Huh?” You stop, turning towards him and frowning in confusion. “You really want- I still need to work my shift.” You tell him. “I can’t just quit without warning.”

“You can and you will.” He says, narrowing his eyes slightly, “you are exhausted. You can barely walk. You can’t - I don’t want to lose you.” He chokes, “please baby. Don’t leave.”

Shoulders slumping, you nod, knowing you can’t continue to keep working at this pace. You are killing yourself. “O-okay.” You agree. “I’ll stay.”

Dieter’s grin is wide as you agree to stay. “Excellent. I’ll call my manager to reinstate you.” He promises, “with double pay.” He glances around your home, “I- I wish you’d told me this is where you live.” He says and you scoff, “why? So you can judge it.” 

He shakes his head, “because I would’ve offered to let you live with me.”

You snort, “there’s no way you would want your assistant to live with you.” You remind him. “It’s a place to live, and it’s what I can afford.” You shrug slightly. “I have worked hard and I’m hoping that I will be able to move sometime next year.” 

“I wouldn’t have wanted my assistant to live with me. I would want you to live with me.” He clarifies, “please baby. Move in with me. I want to take care of you.” He pleads, feeling a little desperate and he feels you slipping through his fingers.

“Dieter….” You don’t know what you can possibly say when he is begging you to move in with him. “If- if I do this, I want to contribute.” You tell him. “I need to, I can’t just live off you. I won’t be like your friends who take and take and never give anything back.” You need him to know that you don’t want him to just take care of you, you want to take care of him as well. 

That makes Dieter fall for you even more. He reaches for your hands, “I don’t want you to be my friend. I want you to be my lover, my partner, my - my girlfriend.” He says, his brown eyes soft as he looks at you. “I fell in love with you as Kitty and as you. I was torn, thinking I had issues because I was in love with two women but it turns out they were the same person. I love you. I want you back in my life. I want to provide for you.”

“And I want to provide for you.” You squeeze his hands in return. “A safe place for you to vent, to talk about your worries and fears. A home for you to relax in and not be judged.” You bite your lip. “I want to talk to you in person, actually lay in a bathtub with you while we do, rub your sore back and make you feel loved. Remind you that you aren’t alone.” 

Dieter smiles and leans forward to rest his forehead against yours. “Baby. I love you.” His hands let go of yours so he can grab your waist, dragging you up against his body. “I know I’m not easy to love. I know we will argue. I know I’ll piss you off but I want that. I don’t want easy. I don’t want simple. I want you.”

“You have me.” You promise, caressing his cheek and leaning in to press your lips to his. The first kiss gentle. “You’ve had me and I don’t care if we fight.” You smile. “I’m sure you’ll call me to make up.” 

Dieter grins, his heart pounding with happiness and he cups your cheek, “I love you. So much.” He murmurs and presses his lips against yours, sliding his tongue into your mouth, his hands squeezing your waist and his mind goes blank to anything but you.

Moaning, you sink into the kiss, your fingers sliding into his hair like you’ve always wanted to do. He’s a fucking good kisser and it makes you dizzy. Pulling back and smiling at him, you bite your lip. “We aren’t on the phone.” You remind him. “Soooooo we can actually experience some of those things we talked about.”

Dieter smiles, his hands sliding down to squeeze your ass. “Later. Right now, I just wanna feel you. I- I can’t believe you’re here and it’s you. I want to experience the emotion and the kinks can be explored later.” He murmurs, kissing your jaw and down your neck as he reaches for the hem of the t-shirt you threw on. He pulls back reluctantly so he can pull it over your head and he groans at the sight of your tits when he throws the shirt to the floor. “Fuck. You’re so gorgeous.” He groans, kissing down your chest until he’s able to take your nipple into his mouth.

He apparently wants soft and slow. Making you smile as you realize that he had slept in his pants. “I know you love your sweats but I want them off of you.” You hook your fingers under the threadbare band and start to tug them down. “Did you change after the party or did you wear these to your wrap party, baby?”

Dieter chuckles, “I changed in the car. I hate those fucking tight pants. Always take a change of clothes with me.” He confesses and you giggle, knowing that Dieter hates wearing any clothes at all when he is at home. You push them down and he’s blushing because he’s already hard. Just the thought of you has him on edge.

“Fuck.” You wrap your fingers around his hard cock and roll the foreskin down. “You don’t know how many times I imagined doing this. Just touching you while you tried to figure out what the fuck was going on.” He moans when you squeeze him gently. “How many times I touched myself thinking about it.”

“You have no idea how many times I’ve jerked off. I haven’t been with anyone since that first week we started talking. No one made me feel the same.” He confesses, breaths heavy as you squeeze him and he’s groaning your name - your real name - as you pump his cock. His hands find your panties and he pushes them halfway down your thighs so he can sink his fingers between your folds to rub your clit.

The first touch has your eyes rolling back and moaning his name. “Dieter.” You pant, shuddering at the way his fingers slip through your folds. “I- I need you.” You admit quietly. “I have - I haven’t been with anyone in a year.” You promise. “I’m clean, but- but I’m not on birth control.”

Dieter groans, "do you - do you have condoms? Or I can pull out?" He offers, wanting you to be comfortable and tell him what you want. His fingers slow on your clit, giving you a moment to think about what you want.

“I-“ your mouth drops open and your hips rock towards his fingers, chasing the feeling. “Don’t pull out.” You suggest breathlessly. “Cum inside me.” It’s a risk, especially since this relationship is new, but you want to risk it. “I - I shouldn’t be- but if I do- I want- your baby.” You manage to pant out, your thoughts jumbled.

“Shit.” Dieter hisses, lost in the idea of you pregnant with his child. If anyone else had said that, he’d be running out of the door but the thought of you pregnant with his child has his cock twitching. “Fuck, you’re so perfect.” He groans and he shifts his fingers so he can push two inside of you, wanting to stretch you out for him.

Your mouth presses against his neck, whining into his skin and deciding that you will make that dream of marking him come true. Sucking on his skin as he fingers you, your walls clench down around him.

Dieter pants when you squeeze his cock and he twists his wrist so he can press his thumb to your clit. “So tight around my fingers. Can’t wait to feel you around my cock. God, you’re so - so incredible,” he murmurs and turns his head so he can kiss you again.

You whine into his mouth and squeeze him again. “On the bed.” You pant, eager to have him deep inside you. “Please Dee, I need you.”

He reluctantly withdraws his fingers, unable to deny you, and he kicks off his sweats and pulls his shirt over his head. He’s older now, no longer the lean mean actor he used to be when he did Hunger Strike and he’s a little self conscious of that.

“Fuck.” You bite your lip and step up to him, caressing his chest. “How do you want our first time?” You ask softly, enjoying the softness of his skin and the slight muscle underneath.

“I want you on top.” He decides, knowing he wants to watch you, to worship you, like he’s dreamed of doing so many times. Like that last phone call when he imagined you riding him while he was on the phone to Kitty. “Please baby.” He whines, growing impatient as his cock throbs.

You smirk as you push him back onto your bed and straddle his hips. Grinding your wet cunt against his cock just to hear him moan and jerk his hips up. “Let me ride you then, baby.” You coo, reaching down to wrap your hand around his cock again so you can impale yourself on him. Your eyes on his as you slowly start to sink down.

“Holy shit. I - shit. Fuck.” He chokes, his hands finding your hips and he can hardly breathe. “Fuck baby. I- I don’t - Jesus Christ.” He pants, his cock twitching violently inside of you as you take him inside of you and his eyes drift down to your pussy lips stretching around his length.

“Fuck Dieter.” You whine softly, your eyes slipping closed and you tilt your head back. “So good, fuck, you’re so thick.” You’ve seen his cock, had your hand around it, but it hadn’t prepared you for feeling him inside you. It’s like he’s pushing against your guts and you’re glad you can set the pace this first time together. “I love you.” Your hands slide to his chest and brace there before you open your eyes and lean down to kiss him.

He groans into your mouth, his hands caressing your back as he enjoys the way you feel around him. He can’t believe you’re sitting on his cock. He feels so lucky and he doesn’t plan on letting you go. His tongue slides into your mouth as his hands grip your ass, squeezing and encouraging you to move.

Rocking slowly, you don’t build up a pace that is anything but languid. Wanting to draw this out and make it last. You run your fingers through his hair and moan into his mouth.

He is lost in the sensations of you.

The smell of you. The sounds you are moaning out, and he loves it. He whimpers into your mouth, his hands caressing every inch of you he can reach.

You slowly rock on his lap, every kiss slow and full of emotion. Despite being on top, this feels like making love. Holding tight to one another and making the most out of your first time together.

“God, I love you. Imagined this so many times. So many goddamn times. With my fingers around my cock. Imagining it was you. Wanted you for so long.” He pants, thrusts up into you when you lean forward to kiss him again.

“I love you, Dieter.” You moan, smiling down at him and caressing his cheek. “I fell in love with you on the phone and couldn’t imagine you wanted me, but I wanted you.”

He offers you a love struck smile as you look down at him and he swears his heart is about to beat out of his chest and he knows you can feel it. He wants you to cum so he thrusts up into you, wrapping his arms around you to keep you close.

“Dieter.” You squeal, collapsing against him and kissing his neck while he takes over. “Oh fuck baby, your cock is so thick. So good inside me.”

up into you, a little faster but this is still slower than frantic sex he’s ever had. “It’s because - fuck - fuck you’re so tight, Kitty Cat.” He gasps the nickname he gave you. “I need you to cum for me.” He pleads, his fingers digging into your ass.

“Gonna.” You pant, grinding down on him as gasping when the curl, short hairs above his cock catch your clit just right. Providing the friction you needed to send you flying. “Deee!” You cry out, shaking and coming apart in his arms as you soak his cock.

He groans as you clamp down on his cock, making him moan your name. “That’s it baby. That’s it. Fuck.” He pants, normally boastful of his stamina but you send him over the edge. He pants as he thrusts up into you, “can I - inside? Or no?” He asks, needing permission before he cums inside of you.

“Inside.” You moan, desperate to feel him paint the inside of your womb with his hot seed. Even if it does not take, you want to feel it. You will go get on birth control if he’s not quite ready for the responsibility of a child. But you track your period and you should be safe.

Dieter groans, thrusting up and inside of you, and he thrusts a half dozen more times until he’s pushing deep and painting your walls with his hot seed. “Fuck fuck fuck.” He hisses, lost in the pleasure and he tilts his head back, eyes clenched shut.

You kiss along his jaw and clench around him, enjoying the way that he moans your name when he’s pump the last spurt of cum inside you. “That was amazing.” You giggle. “I love you. I love you, baby.”

“Is this real life?” Dieter asks and you giggle. 

You caress his cheeks, “it’s real.” 

Dieter opens his eyes to look at you, “you’re real. I can’t believe it. I’m so fucking lucky.” He murmurs, kissing your chin.

“I’m lucky.” You feel more relaxed than you have in a long time, snuggling against his chest and tilting your head up to kiss his jaw. “I love you.”

Dieter caresses your back and closes his eyes, feeling like he’s where he belongs. With you. He just needs to get you back to his home so he can look after you.

****

“Baby! I’m home!” Dieter shouts as he comes into the hallway balancing his backpack and the take out he picked up on his way home. “I got the tacos!” He shouts and Maury jumps up to greet his daddy as he comes into the house. “Hey boy. You been looking after your mama?” Dieter asks and Maury barks. Dieter carries the bag into the kitchen and finds you sitting on the sofa, reading on your phone. Anything good?” He asks and you shake your head.

“No. Just researching what the best pre-school is. The other moms at the prenatal class are already signing their babies up and they aren’t even born yet.” 

Dieter snorts, coming to sit beside you and his hand finds your bump. “Hey, baby boy.” He murmurs, leaning down to kiss your bump. He brings his head up to kiss your lips. “Hey mama.” He murmurs, nudging his nose against yours. “Don’t worry about that. Our baby is a Bravo. He’s gonna be first on the list.”

“Yeah?” You giggle quietly. “You gonna flirt with the admissions personnel?” You ask, covering his hand with your own. Since that first day at your apartment, things have changed drastically. He had moved you into his Sherman Oaks mansion immediately and true to his word, he had a contract written up to protect your job from rash firings. He had also added clauses that would give you time to find another place to live if things didn't work out. Although they have, beautifully. You are expecting his first baby within the next two months and you’ve never seen a more eager father. He’s still letting you look after his schedule, but he has you working at home when he’s going to spend long days at the studio, his schedule open for the next six months after this project wraps. He wants to be home to bond with the baby.

“I only flirt with you, Kitty Cat.” He promises with a chuckle, “buuuuuuuuut maybe a little eye flutter from Oscar Winner Dieter Bravo might get him admission into the best damn preschool in town.” He says with a confidence he didn’t have before he started talking to you. 

“Mmm. If it’s for our boy, we can figure something out.” You tease and Dieter kisses you. 

“But you are my number one.” He promises, “that’s why I’m gonna marry you.” He says and you rear back. He’s never really mentioned marriage. Kids, yes, but not marriage. “Marry me.” He murmurs, his dark eyes meeting yours.

“Dieter.” You bite your lip and reach out to caress his cheek. “Are you sure? We don’t have to get married.” His ex-wife had been a bit contributor to his badly beaten self image. “I love you no matter what I am to you legally.”

“I want you to be my wife. I want to be your husband. I want you. Forever. Our family.” He murmurs and caresses your bump. “I love you, Kitty Cat. Marry me. Be mine.” He requests, “I - I gotta get a ring and I should ask you in a fancy restaurant but - shit. I’m doing this all wrong?”

“No.” You promise him, beaming as you lean in and kiss him. “You aren’t doing it all wrong. The only way it could have been any better is if you had proposed over the phone.” You tease, your love of talking on the phone hasn’t diminished since you’ve lived together, just changing to times when you can’t be together due to his work schedule.

Dieter offers you that awkward half smile as he looks at you, waiting for your answer. “So, uh, are you - is that a yes?” He asks, biting his lip.

“Of course I will marry you.” You giggle when you realize you hadn’t answered him and you kiss him again. “I would love to marry you, Dieter Bravo.”

Dieter cups your cheek, “I love you, Mrs Bravo. Soon to be Mrs Bravo.” He grins, excited to be your husband and for you to be his wife. He never imagined his entire life would change when he decided to call the sex hotline but fuck, he’s so glad he did. His life has changed for the better and all he had to do was open his eyes and see what was in front of him the entire time: His assistant. His Kitty Cat. The mother of his child. His wife.

[therealcocoshady]

Dating Marshall Mathers HCs - Love languages edition

Author’s Note : Hey Stans 🥰. I am a sucker for Eminem Headcanons so I decided to give it a shot ☺️. Let me know what kind of HCs you’d like 👀. These HCs are based from the vibe I get from him, from his music, appearances or interviews - I might be wrong though, or you might disagree. Or not ? Either way, let me know what you think ❤️

Acts of service 

On some things, he is a bit old-fashioned and he will see some things as « his job ». He knows you can carry your bags or put that Ikea shelf together yourself. Doesn’t mean you have to. 

Absolute gentleman. Contrary to what he says he has manners. He just doesn’t overdo it. 

He is pissed when you ask for someone else’s help instead of his 

« Why didn’t you ask me ? » 

Also annoyed when you don’t ask for anything at all 

That being said, he hates asking for help

As much as possible, he will do his best to make your life easier with small gestures like : 

Picking you up at the airport // Driving you to and from work if he can 

Having your favorite food delivered to you when he is not there and he knows you are too lazy/tired/sick to cook 

Taking care of you when you are sick, tired or simply having a bad day 

Making sure his pantry is stocked with your favorite drinks and beverages 

He enjoys helping you when you are cooking/cleaning… 

Once he is comfortable around your place he will even do it unprompted 

Gifts

Might be his least favorite love language 

He enjoys giving gifts far more than he likes receiving them 

He is very hard to shop for anyway 

What do you get for a man who has the means to get everything he wants for himself ?

He is grateful for gifts but he is not really the materialistic type 

He low-key doesn’t believe he deserves gifts anyway 

When he gives you a gift, you can expect it to be meaningful and thoughtful

He pays a lot of attention to details 

Or it can be something you mentioned you needed 

Big, expensive gifts are for special occasions

Just because he has the means doesn’t mean he will gift you a Chanel bag on a random Thursday. Sorry. 

When he splurges, he doesn’t half-ass it but it doesn’t happen too often either 

Before he buys you something expensive, you have to be together for a while

Trying to win a woman over by spending money on her ? Yeah, not for him. He is too scared of gold-diggers. 

Also, if you have a fight, he might try to suck up to you with a gift or a bouquet even though he is the first to criticize how shallow gifts can be 

When he is away and doesn’t see you for a while, he might arrange for a surprise delivery, to make you smile and also make sure you don’t forget about him (as if it were possible)

Physical touch 

He is a bit guarded at first, so much so that you start doubting that he actually likes you (« Surely, he would have made a move by now… » - nope that man is just slow)

If he actually likes you, he makes it a point to behave like a gentleman and he will try and pick the best time for a first kiss or even simply holding your hand for the first time 

Great kisser. 

Not a big fan of public displays of affection (for obvious reasons)

If the two of you are ever spotted together, people might mistake you for a member of his team because he will not even get caught holding your hand 

That’s partly because he values your privacy at least as much as his - he doesn’t want his girl to get harassed or bothered 

However, when it’s just the two of you, he is all over you 

Whenever the two of you spend time together, he enjoys having physical contact with you, even if it’s just holding your hand while watching a movie 

Definitely makes up for his busy schedule with physical touch. 

Quality time

Probably his love language of choice 

Overall, he is really mindful of your schedule and appreciates that you respect his 

If you don’t, it’s not going to work between the two of you anyway 

Most of the time, he is punctual and he will not show up late to one of your dates 

If it happens, he will profusely apologize and make it up to you 

Might get a little pissed if you do (but he knows that girls will be girls and you are most likely late because you wanted to be extra pretty for him) 

He has a hectic schedule but he if he loves you he will make time for you 

Him making time for you is actually one of the telltale signs he actually cares about you 

If you are as busy as him, he really appreciates that you manage to make time for him

No phones rule during your dates 

Like, seriously, it’s a huge red flag for him if his date spends too much time on her phone instead of enjoying the moment 

Speaking of phones… He doesn’t text you too much. Instead, he tries to find moments when he can call you and have an actual conversation. 

When you are talking, you have his full attention 

He pays attention to everything you say and and do, even when it doesn’t seem like it 

He remembers everything 

He enjoys hearing you talk about things you are passionate about

If it’s something he is not too familiar with, he asks questions and he might even make an effort to do some research of his own, just so he can keep up with you 

And in turn, he really appreciates if you do the same 

Doesn’t seem like it at first, but he actually enjoys a good conversation. Even if you’re gorgeous, if you’re not interesting… Hard pass. 

He also gets really talkative if he’s talking about a topic he is passionate about. Like hip-hop culture, pop culture, sports… He will talk your ears off. And he likes talking about it with you. 

Even better if you are able to have an actual debate with him. He might not agree with you but he respects someone who can stand their ground and have actual valid arguments. 

Because you might not be able to spend too much time together sometimes, he will do his best to make your dates special 

As your relationship evolves, he includes you in some more mundane activities, just to enjoy more of your company 

Don’t expect to spend too much time at the studio with him. He keeps his work and personal life separate. 

That being said, he might invite you to spend time with him there once or twice. And it means a lot. 

Words of affirmations 

We all know this man has a way with words 

When he praises you or compliments you, he means it 

A perk of dating a dictionary nerd : he chooses his words carefully 

Never a dull compliment 

He is a great motivator : when he encourages you and tells you you can do it, you actually start believing that you can 

He is good when It comes to giving words of affirmation but receiving them ? Nope. 

When you compliment him, he gets a bit awkward and doesn’t know how to react 

That being said, he enjoys it 

Compliments he enjoys the most are not necessarily the ones about his professional skills or physical appearance but genuinely about his character 

Any fan could tell him he is a great rapper or that he looks good. But having his girl tell him what an amazing person she thinks he is and being specific about it ? YES. 

Basically, just show him that you care about him (the real him) 

With how guarded he is, it might be some time before he actually says « I love you »

It might not come with a big declaration either. Just « I love you ». Simple. 

Definitely catches you off guard the first time he says it, with a super casual tone. 

However, when he says it, he means it 

He leaves you small notes, too 

[nei-ning]

Gonna rant a bit. I saw one set of beautiful anthro arts on another website. Sadly they were done in AI. I did left a comment, complimenting how beautiful these arts were but how sad it made me that they were AI arts.

The artist themselves was kind and polite, telling they use AI because they want to learn and be able to make game arts one day (but they too, apparently, with AI so...)

But then there was another user, AI "artist" too who replied to me that there's absolutely NO ARTIST who can draw anthros with detailed fur, goat like arm, lights, colors etc without editing or photoshopping. On the whole planet, absolutely none! This person clearly don't believe in people's skills when it comes on arts. Heck, I followed one artist on DA who drew ALL her arts traditionally and she drew, and still does, SUPER DETAILED FURRY ANTHROS! No photoshop, editing, nothing digital. Just her hands, paper and a set of color pencils.

Also, if people's art skills wouldn't had been amazing back in the days through mankind, we wouldn't have cave paintings, old amazing paintings or sculptures, ALL DONE BY HANDS IN TRADITIONAL WAY. NO AI, NO PHOTOSHOP OR EDITING.

Humans can learn amazing skills if they only want to. AI artists, maybe not all, just wants to take the easiest way / be lazy (and get lots of likes - like that other person who straight forward said it. That he uses AI to create furry arts to get hundreds of likes).

They also mocked my style / arts, saying they are not good enough to be used in AI arts - yet.

Like what the actual fuck?! I am pissed! I don't even want my arts to be used in AI arts by some lazy idiot (or at all). At least I draw EVERYTHING in my arts, from first sketch line to the last shade / light. Surely my skills are not as good as they could be. After all I'm self-taught, not gone in art school like some have. Not to mention I draw for fun, I draw to bring joy to my watchers, I draw therapy arts to myself, I like to keep my style easy and simple. My arts are a hobby, not professional thing or to fish a lot of likes. If my arts can make someone's day a bit better, then I've done my job! I never haven't taken my arts or skills too seriously, trying to improve them to the top.

Is there times when I wish I would put more effort to my arts, learn and study more, becoming better? Absolutely! But do I bother? Not really. Like I said, this is a hobby. I know I would burnout myself if I would start to force and pressure myself to do better, to learn more, to improve my skills. I mean I struggle to draw even now!

I do have some saved tutorials on Pinterest what I would like to try, yes, but still not in a way like if I would have a fire under my ass.