#And no the world domination line doesn't count | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hollowdeath · 8 months

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Oh hello, I just wanted to tell you that what you wrote is amazing! I read it over and over and couldn't stop reading. You are soooo amazing! *((Ugly crying😭❤️))*

And umm.. I would like to share about the imagination in my head about Dark Harry Potter. He joins the Lord Voldemort and betrayed all his friends. When the war ended, the Lord's side Voldemort wins. Everything is in chaos but Harry ignores it all because he only cares about the reader, his old girlfriend. (Harry still loves the reader even though the reader hates Harry.) He might have requested that the Lord Voldemort gave the reader as a reward to him after the war. Something like that, and ummm, a drama that is both bitter and sad and angry at the same time full of longing for each other? A rough and sad lovemaking? 🥺

hi! thank you so much for requesting! i hope you enjoy!

pairing: dark!harry james potter x fem!reader AU (18+)

summary: harry's all-consuming anger successfully tempts him to join voldemort in the war, sending you, his girlfriend, away in an attempt to keep you safe. years later he asks for your return, and is met with bitterness and rage as you struggle to navigate your feelings for each other in a post-war world.

c/w: smut!!! angst!! slow burn! mentions/threats of weapons, violence, abuse, and death/murder. smut is all the way at the end (grinding, oral, penetration, submissive!harry & dominant!reader) lightly edited, not book/movie/canon accurate

word count: 12.6k

a/n: this is giving me manacled x star wars and i love it lol, so so so much fun to write. i tried to make the reader more angst-y and dominant than normal, so if you like this please let me know! sorry if the plot doesn't make much sense. i also started school this week so please be patient with me! going to try and start posting shorter blurbs/headcanons between requests <3

harry was standing at a window in the lord's manor, watching the street below him as people sulked aimlessly by. it was a typical, gloomy day, the clouds gathering heavily above. it had been raining for weeks, maybe even months at this point, and it was beginning to cast a permanent gray shadow across the city. not even the weather could escape the tragedies of the war.

though harry chose to not dwell on the war, he felt its lingering effects. even from his lofty spot in the comfort of the lord's castle, which he barely left anymore. its walls had become harry's second skin. so long as he had everything delivered to him whenever he desired, it was disgusting to him to even think of stepping outside.

yet still, harry could see the abandoned and damaged shops just outside the lord's gates lining the courtyard along the cobblestone streets. the burnt remains of what once was. the sunken-in faces of the remaining people in the city. the lack of light, the lack of life, the lack of magic.

there's a part of harry, a weak cry from deep inside his repressed past, that feels bad. he was once a young wizard with bright eyes walking the streets of these same shops. he once enjoyed the sounds of shared happiness, and found solace in the fact that despite his lack of, there would always be joy in the world around him.

however, as harry grew older, and the circumstances around him shifted, he found himself getting angrier more often. not just on a weekly basis over small interactions or mistakes, but all the time, from the moment he was awoken by his nightmares to the moment he fell back into them. harry simply had no room inside of him left for anything else. it was just anger. pure, unbridled anger that only caused annoyance at first, then small outbursts of irritation after a while, and, eventually, he couldn't look at anyone or anything without wanting to physically destroy it for no reason other than he was just angry.

harry was angry at the world for having magic in it in the first place. he hated the divide it caused between muggles and non-muggles, pure bloods and half bloods. he was angry that divide is what took his parents from him before he could even properly know them. he was angry he had to grow up in abuse and neglect under the guise of 'safety'. he was angry he never received an apology, an admittance of guilt, not even a hint of closure for the past that was still controlling his present.

the boy who used to risk his life to save hogwarts and the students inside of it would eventually be the same one to let them fall.

when voldemort came back, and harry's anger was at its worst, he knew there was a connection. he didn't know about horcruxes yet and he certainly didn't know he was one. and yet he knew, somewhere deep inside him again, that it wasn't a coincidence. there was a reason his anger was consuming him, and the reason was voldemort.

after cedric's death, harry had begun to spiral. the nightmares were worse than before, he felt deathly paranoid constantly, and couldn't escape the intruding memories of the graveyard. though harry had managed well enough afterwards, still suppressing his rage, he couldn't hide the change in his personality from those closest to him. ron and hermione were the first to bring it up, but, of course, harry had snapped and told them to mind the business that pays them. despite his resistance, they tried until the very end to help their best friend see through his anger, to remember what was right and wrong.

however, once sirius was dead, it was all over.

harry had simply lost any hope that was left within him. watching sirius fall through the veil, his eyes lifeless and cold, was like watching harry himself die. he didn't think he could get any lower, and then he watched the only family he had left be cursed just within his reach.

harry was never the same after that. when he sat in bed late at night staring at the marauders map in his lap, he thought about how much he hated this life that's been made for him. the boy who lived, the scape goat, the hero, our only hope. it was crushing. harry was just a boy. he wanted to live a normal life.

but he knew he never could. not after tom riddle, not after cedric, not after sirius. even if everything went away tomorrow and harry could just attend his classes and be with his friends, nothing would change. he would still be alone, he would still be angry, and he would still suffer from his traumas. what was the point in fighting for good or living to see the end when you would always end up alone?

except, harry wasn't alone, really. he had you.

if there was one thing in this lifetime, one thing throughout this entire war that could have saved harry, it was you.

you and harry had been classmates for a year or so before really getting to know each other, and started dating not long after. when you were around, harry knew there was something worth fighting for. though he may feel angry and everything and everyone and everything everyone said, harry could never truly be mad with you. it's like when you looked at him the anger was muted, numb, deep inside him, and as soon as someone would interrupt it was bubbling at the surface again.

you were worried about harry, of course, and saw the effects his anger had on his relationships with everyone else around him. besides you.

he remembers you clearly, still to this day, and just how upset you were anytime he lashed out. if he'd felt anything other than anger at that time, it would've been guilt. guilt for hurting you, for scaring you. guilt, but not guilty enough to stop.

the anger was stronger.

even when you asked him, begged him, please, harry, please stop letting your anger win, and even when he promised, swore on his own grave, that he would try harder to stop for you, he never did.

harry was beyond angry. he was spiteful. all he had ever been was kind, a pushover who gave everyone the respect he was never graced with. he's saved strangers who wouldn't spit on him if he was on fire. he's lost his family in their sacrifice for the greater good that now rested upon harry's 16 year old shoulders.

he was beginning to think the fight wasn't worth it.

not only did the fight for good no longer seem worthy to harry, the fight against it only seemed to become more enticing. why should harry continue to risk his life and sanity when there would always be fights of blood purity? why should he be the hero everyone else has always wanted him to be?

for a long time, the answer was you. you were reason enough for harry to keep fighting, to keep his anger under control. when he looked at you things made sense for just a moment, his suffering was worth it to see you alive and well. until it wasn't.

everyone has a breaking point, and harry felt like he had finally reached his. as the war had geared up to a point of no return, harry had to make a decision. he had always assumed his decision was already made for him since birth, but he soon realized he never actually had to follow this path set for him in the first place. he was free to do as he pleased. he wasn't dumbledore, he wasn't his parents, he wasn't even the hero everyone thought he was. he was angry. he was spiteful.

worse than that, harry was vengeful.

so, when he met voldemort in the woods during the battle of hogwarts to accept his death, harry instead offered him a proposal the dark lord simply couldn't refuse. harry potter, his living horcrux, would become his successor upon his death. harry would fight with and for voldemort, training to become the most powerful dark wizard in history, and to finally let tom riddle rest well knowing the world was in just as dark, evil hands as his own.

though voldemort was skeptical at first, naturally, as harry expected him to be, he could eventually see the darkness within harry nearly consuming him whole. he was as serious as death itself. he no longer had the desire within him to continue fighting for, what he saw as, a lost cause. voldemort was rather pleased with this news, though never expected harry to come around like he did. he hadn't even considered it, really. but who was he to deny his own successor?

upon harry's return to hogwarts with voldemort and his death eaters in tow, every single person who watched was stunned into silence. even mcgonagall, who had been instructing and encouraging the students all night in their fight, had become speechless and teary eyed at the sight. ron had to catch hermione, who nearly fell to the floor.

but nobody was as upset as you were.

you had already been sobbing watching harry walk off into the woods towards his own death thinking you would never see him alive again. only to watch him emerge from the same treeline with the enemy by his side. it's like you got kicked in the gut. you would've almost rather never seen harry again.

"harry!" you had screamed in a broken voice as he crossed the bridge, voldemort's snake slithering at his feet. you were running to him, breaking through the multiple arms that tried to hold you back.

voldemort tried to raise his wand to you, but harry had stopped him, telling him to let him handle it. he was suspicious at first, still not fully trusting harry's intentions just yet, but was reassured by the sinister look in his eyes.

harry looked at you. he remembers feeling a twinge of that same guilt from before, the tiniest spark of hope deep within his rage. he really did love you, at least at some point he did. you would've made all of this worth it, you would've been the reason to keep going. but not even you were reason enough anymore. for so long he had been ready to take his revenge on the world that failed him.

"harry, what are you doing?" you had asked him, voice shaking. you were almost whispering, your eyes nervously glancing towards voldemort every other second in fear for your safety. harry grabbed your hands but you pulled them back, a look of disgust coming across your face.

"come with me." harry had told you. your look of disgusted transformed into shock, anger, confusion, and guilt. there were mumblings coming from the crowd of students behind you. "what?" you had asked, nearly breathless at this point, your eyes searching him for answers.

"come with me, [y/n]. i want you by my side as i become the most powerful dark lord in the world." harry explained, taking steps towards you with an excited grin on his face, his eyes still dark with corruption. you were still in shock when he grabbed for your hands. he kissed your knuckles softly with a quiet, "i love you,"

he had meant it, but not like he used to.

it took a few moments of silence and some tense eye contact before you pulled your hands away, letting the tears fall again as you attempted to gather your words. "you can't do this, harry. i will never join the dark lord. you know this isn't right, why are you doing this? why? why?" you're practically begging for an answer as harry looked away, an irritated expression on his face, clenching his jaw together. your hands reached for his shirt and jacket, trying to shake some sense into him as you grasped them tightly and pulled him closer.

"don't you love me?" you had asked him in the most heartbreaking, soul crushing voice. your words were weak, but your sentiment was palpable. you were bloody, dirty, covered in scars from fighting, holding harry close to you as you begged him with wide eyes. not too much earlier in the year he would've folded immediately looking at you, so innocent and desperate, his last bit of hope in the world.

but it was already far too late.

"take her to azkaban," harry had announced, angling his head back to the deatheaters behind him, keeping his eyes locked with yours. your grip on his clothes loosened and shocked gasps came from the crowd. harry looked at voldemort, who was a bit puzzled by the situation, but backed up harry's real nonetheless. "you heard the boy," he snapped towards the men behind him.

the deatheaters walked towards you as you stepped away from harry. "no, no, no, stop!" you were screaming, trying to back away from them, but they had grabbed your arms aggressively and began dragging you towards the bridge. "[y/n]!" a few students had shouted, running towards you before their attempts were blocked by a wave of voldemort's wand. the students fell to the ground, watching helplessly as you continued to fight your way out of the deatheaters' grasps. harry stood still, emotionless, completely stoic as he heard your desperate wails and calls for his name disappear into the woods behind him.

the rest of that night or day or whatever it was has since been completely blocked out of harry's mind, forever. his rage had reached a level he didn't know was possible. all he could recall anymore is the blood, the screaming, the running, and the light of his wand in his hand. many students and professors died during that battle at his hand, along with voldemort's and the deatheaters'. the castle was then burned to the ground, signifying the end of the battle. hogwarts had never stood a chance.

and, now, harry stands in the dark lord's manor, staring at the abandoned buildings lining his street, and he's thinking of you.

he often wondered how life would have been if you had joined him that day. though his years since have been packed with death, fights, destruction, and chaos, there were moments alone or in peril where you crossed his mind like a gentle breeze. a simpler part of his past, a light in his darkness. your soft, kind eyes, wide with shock as you back away from him, fixated on the deatheaters coming to collect you. your sweet, melodic voice screaming and breaking as you were dragged away, fighting for your freedom. harry could remember the moment perfectly despite everything else in his life being a blur.

he wonders how you would have filled the role as his partner in crime after choosing him. two dark lords unstoppable against the forces of the wizarding world, fighting 'good' and spreading evil just as he had been this whole time. would you have succumbed easily to the temptation? would you be as dark as harry was? could you maybe even be darker?

but harry knew it was a fruitless endeavor from the beginning. he had wanted to ask you anyways, to at least give you a chance to make the decision to be with him, even if he already knew what your response would be. harry was a bit let down at first, hoping maybe there was enough love between you to push morals aside, but he knew he would never be that lucky. part of why he fell in love with you way before his anger began was your commitment and dedication to what you believed was right. that same trait would be the driving force behind his decision to lock you away.

harry knew you. and he knew you wouldn't stop fighting until your body gave out, and maybe even after that. he may have lost you by sending you to azkaban for the foreseeable future of the war, but he'd rather know you were safe somewhere solitary than spend his years wondering where your dead body had been rotting into the dirt all this time. though azkaban was desolate, dark, isolated, and torturous, it allowed harry to sleep at night thinking of your still-beating heart resting safely behind those impenetrable walls.

lately his nights had become more restless, though, as the thought of you still residing in azkaban began to sit with him. he didn't feel guilt, really, he knew it was what was ultimately best for you. but he did miss you.

after the war had died down and voldemort took his place as the rightful dark lord of the world, harry's anger began to subside for the first time in years. rather than rage fueling his insatiable desire to destroy, he felt incredibly numb and disengaged with everything around him. the desolate streets and grim sky and abandoned city outside the windows began to fit his mental state more and more. for the first time since he was a teenager, harry could see past the anger.

and all he wanted was you.

so, harry had reached out to the dark lord, who spent most of his time at his new ministry castle across the country from the old manor he let harry watch over. they communicated every so often, checking in on business and social matters, but otherwise never had to meet in person.

harry sent him a letter asking for your release and direct delivery to his household, barring from reason. he felt after the war he had lead with and for voldemort, he owed harry a singular favor all these years later.

it only took 2 days for a confirmation letter to be sent back to harry, signed by voldemort himself, dating your arrival for the next day.

harry had his house elf, jinx, make up your room, asking her to be sure it was comfortable and clean before your delivery tomorrow afternoon, and to also provide plenty of options for dinner.

harry spent all night thinking about you, wondering what you'd look like after all this time. how similar or different you would be from what he remembers. how you'd react to seeing him. he knew you well enough to know you wouldn't react well, likely needing an extended period of alone time to adjust being here before he'd ever get a civil moment with you. but he was up for the challenge, otherwise he'd never ask for your return in the first place. he was releasing his anger, and instead building his patience, if not just to hold you one more time.

there was a delicious smell filling the mansion as the clock drew nearer to your arrival. harry was dressed better than he had been in years, and had jinx make the usually desolate looking building feel warm and inviting. fireplaces roaring, warm lamps flooding the hallways, and the grand dining table set to perfection for 2 particular guests.

harry didn't want to make it too obvious, but it was hard for him to hide how excited he was to see you again. even if you were different, even if you hated him, all he wanted was to see you in person, his eyes locking with yours for the first time since the day you were dragged away at his command.

once the hour was upon him, harry could hear footsteps and voices on the second floor. his heart leaped, setting down his glass of wine before heading for the stairs.

"let go of me, let go of me," a strained voice was crying down the hall, the sounds of a struggle coming from harry's left. he saw two house elves, rather squat and bulky, holding onto the arms of a frail body covered in a simple striped prison dress.

one elf turned to harry and gave him a devilish grin, "ah, there's the man himself!" he growled, his partner turning as well. "sorry we were late, mr. potter, someone here wasn't too keen on leaving azkaban, for some reason," he apologizes, pulling at the arm he's holding.

you slowly turn your head and stop struggling, your eyes wide with fear and mouth dropped open. "harry?" you whispered to yourself, your knees nearly giving out beneath you before the elves aggressively pulled you back up.

the first elf groans, rolling his eyes at you. "where can we put her, huh?" he asks, his tone impatient. harry pulls a few gold coins out of his pocket and hands them over to both of the elves. "right here is just fine. thank you, boys," he tells them.

the elves happily accept the tips and drop you to the ground, quickly disappearing in a flash.

you're left heavily breathing on the floor of the hall, sniffling and groaning in pain before diverting your attention to harry. your eyes were still wide, your eyebrows creased in confusion as you tried to move yourself further away from him on your hands and knees.

harry gave you your space, but watched intently as you nervously increased the distance between both of you. your hair was long, tangled, greasy, and falling around you like a curtain. you were smaller than he remembered, your eyes sunken in and cheeks more hollowed than before. you were pale, and visibly dirty. the soles of your feet were nearly black.

harry felt a pain in his stomach, his blood pressure rising imagining how you lived inside the walls of the prison. he couldn't identify the feeling. it was different from anger, but it wasn't far off.

as you continued to back up, your eyes shifted to a widow on your right. you slowly gained the energy to lift yourself and reach for the window, throwing it open before attempting to stick your hand out.

your hand hit the open window like you had never moved the glass barrier. you continued trying to stick your hand and head out, hitting at the invisible barrier with all your strength, making frustrated sounds.

"there's a spell on the house, love. you can't leave, just for now, until we can work things out," harry tried to explain gently as you continued trying to escape. he took a step towards you and you stepped away, leaning on the wall for support as you began to cry harder.

"get away from me, get away, what the fuck, what the fuck is happening," you tried to shout at him, your faced turned away and other arm putting distance between you and harry. you were gasping for air, your voice stressed and broken, shaking your head as you tried to continue backing up into the wall.

harry still attempted to give you your space. he hated to see you like this. you were so defensive and scared of everything going on around you. he wanted to give you time to calm down, but felt you needed to know what was going on.

"[y/n]," harry said, causing your head to snap towards him with curious eyes. your arm lowered slightly, your knees still weak beneath you. "listen to me, okay? just for a second," harry tried to ask kindly. he hadn't realized just how long it had been since he talked to someone this gently.

you continued to stand defensively, your eyes scanning harry up and down nervously as your breathing slowly started to still.

harry sighed, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before turning his attention to you again. "i know this is a lot, and i know it's confusing," he starts, his voice unexpectedly shaky. "but i asked voldemort, and i had you released from azkaban. i figured you may like a warm place to stay, so i had you brought here,"

you still looked confused for a moment before you narrowed your eyes, your arm coming up once again to defend yourself. "what are you talking about? where are we?" you asked harry suspiciously, still scanning him from head to toe.

"my manor. well, the lord's manor, but, essentially mine," harry says a bit awkwardly. you gave him a look of disgust, leaning further into the wall for support. "why would i want to be here? with you?" you practically spat at him with hatred in your eyes. harry was unaffected.

"i know you don't. but there's nowhere else to go. i promise." harry tells you solemnly. your eyes widen a bit again, a flash of fear coming across your face, but the anger quickly returns.

"i'd rather live in rubble than prop my feet up in the dark lord's manor," you say sharply, taking a step towards him in attempt to intimidate him. though you weren't much shorter than harry, you were weak, and tired, and he wasn't necessarily afraid of your threats.

he took a step back anyways, giving you more space. "look," he says, his eyes turning to the floor before he can steady his breathing and reply. "it's just for now. if you really don't want to stay, i won't make you." he says softly before returning his eyes to yours. they're not as bright as he remembers them in his dreams about you.

"but," he says, causing your jaw to clench. "you will stay until you're well again. and it's not up for debate." harry tells you firmly, his tone not as gentle as before.

you swallow harshly, your stomach growling audibly as the smell of the food downstairs begins to settle into your senses.

harry notices this and smirks to himself before quickly returning to a neutral state. "now," he announces, straightening out his blazer. "until the food is ready, there's a room made up for you just down this hall and to your left. it has a bathroom, and clothes. take all the time you need." he says before promptly turning on his heels and heading downstairs, his heart still racing from his encounter with you.

sitting in the living room watching the fireplace in front of him, harry eventually hears the door of your new bedroom click open and swiftly close. not long after he can hear the plumbing rumble as you take your first shower. he smiles at the fact that you're finally in his life once more, even if the circumstances were completely unusual.

harry's nearly concerned and wanting to send jinx to check on you after 2 hours of running water before it stops, the sound of the bathroom fan taking its place. harry's relieved.

"jinx, could tell our guest the foods ready," harry tells the elf as she brings the last tray from the kitchen to the dining room. she nods to herself, shuffling up the stairs sluggishly.

harry's pouring another glass of wine in the kitchen and decides to pour you one as well. on his way into the dining room, he sees you standing in the entryway. you're dressed in a large jumper, oversized pajamas bottoms, and your hair is still rather wet plopped into a bun on top of your head. your skin is rubbed raw, your cheeks still flushed pink as you analyze the table full of food in front of you.

harry smiles at your shocked gaze, your stomach growling again as he tries to hand you your glass of wine. you turn your nose at him, taking a step back. he smiles curtly and heads to his seat, setting your glass with his.

"figured you might be hungry," harry says as he sits down, his plate made for him already. he looks at you, arms still crossed, nose turned away, but eyes peeking at the endless food at your disposal. he can tell you're trying to keep your guard up, but your stomach hasn't stopped rumbling since you came downstairs.

he gestures to your chair just across from him, a plate made for you as well. you look at him, your eyes curious but expression still tight. you carefully take a step closer to the table, but you're still weary.

harry gives you a sympathetic smile. "after tonight you can have any meal you want in your solitude. i just thought i'd be nice and host my guest for the first night," he tells you, catching your gaze.

your curious look quickly turns to one of anger. "i'm not your guest. i'm practically a prisoner again." you hiss, your eyes boring into his with contempt. harry can sense the rage building inside of you. he's familiar with the feeling.

though you were different in so many ways, your dull eyes and lifeless voice, you were also similar in your determined attitude. you had always been the type to stand up and take charge, which harry completely admired and was impressed by. he found your beauty to be most potent in your strong will and cunning mind.

he admired you for just a moment, looking down at him with enough hatred to send shivers over his body. you looked so young, your skin supple and smooth under the light of the candles and fireplace, your hair falling loosely to frame your furrowed brow. you were just as pretty as he remembered, even if your expression always contained a hint of sadness and fear around him.

harry simply smiles softly, sitting back in his chair. "i prefer guest," he says teasingly. you suddenly snap at him, grabbing for his steak knife and pushing your arm to his neck against the back of the chair, holding the point of the knife to the side of his neck.

if looks could kill, the knife would've been unnecessary. your eyes were nearly black as you shakily push against harry's throat. "let me out of here now or i swear, harry," your voice cracks saying his name. "i swear i'll fucking kill you," you spit, leaning further into your grasp him on, your jaw clenched tightly.

harry, to your surprise, just chuckles to himself, not even struggling to breathe as he looks up at you deviously. your eyes widen just before you feel your arms start to move for you, as well as your legs. your neck is strained as well, an invisible force pushing you away from harry as the knife drops from your hand.

you're suddenly released from the mysterious grasp, and you choke out a breath, looking back at harry. he's smirking, but trying not to let you see as his pointed hand lowers from you. he fixes his shirt and chair, gesturing again to your seat across from him. "as thrilling as that was, love, not yet. i'd like you to stay here for at least a month before i consider placing you elsewhere." harry states, picking his knife back up to place on the table.

you stare at harry incredulously. "a month?" you ask, your face turning red again. you take another step towards him but you falter in fear of him using the same force as before to stop you. you stumble as your mind races to gather your thoughts. "how…you…i'm not staying here for a month! this is insanity! how could you send me away like that and just bring me back like it was nothing? a shower and a plate of food and suddenly those 5 years in azkaban never happened?"

you're now shouting at harry with a broken voice, your emotions on high as the tears threaten to fall again. harry watches you, just watches, and simply gestures to your chair again. "just join me," he insists.

you go to yell again, but harry sternly interrupts. "we can discuss this another time. please. sit down." he commands from you.

your mask drops for a moment, a look of fear crossing your face before diverting your eyes away completely to your chair. your stomach growls again, your hand covering it to hide the sound.

it takes a few moments until you slowly make your way to sit down, glancing at harry before taking your seat. harry begins eating silently, and, not long after, you're digging into your first real plate of food in years.

harry can't help but smile to himself subtly watching you indulge yourself for a moment, the mask slipping again as you gratefully shovel spoonfuls of food into your mouth with a sigh of relief. he was glad you were eating, even if he had to put up a bit of a fight to convince you.

as harry finishes up, you're still making your way through your second plate. he stands, grabbing your attention and making you curl back into your seat. "jinx," he calls out before sipping the last of his wine. jinx comes to the table and grabs harry's glass and plate, turning to take them to the kitchen.

"[y/n], this is jinx," harry motions to the elf, who gives you a warm smile. you return the smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes. "if you ever need anything, anything at all, don't be afraid to ask her. she lives to serve," harry tells you proudly, earning a slight look of disgust from you before returning a smile at jinx.

"this was a lovely dinner, ms. jinx, thank you so much, truly," you thank her honestly. she bows to you slightly before continuing her way through the doors to the kitchen.

you shoot harry a glare. "the harry i knew would've never kept a house elf," you say, your words dripping with disdain. harry ignores your statement, turning to the stairs before ascending them.

he leaves you alone at the dining table, closing himself off in the master bedroom for the night. just as he's finishing up brushing his teeth, he hears your door click shut. that night he fell asleep feeling more reassured than he had in years knowing the pretty girl he couldn't keep his mind off of was asleep just down the hall from him.

it had been a few weeks since harry moved you in, and he rarely ended up seeing you in the mansion. you were often locked away in your room, or taking showers, and harry only ever saw you when you were finishing up a meal with jinx.

you had become quite close with her, it seems, which harry found sweet. he was worried at first that you may be using jinx as a way to find an escape from the house, but after a while without incident, harry realized how silly the idea was. you truly could connect with anyone.

one of the only other times he saw you, though, was when he passed by the open library one night. harry had been restless, thinking about his past in depth, feeling emotions he couldn't place, and decided to watch the sunrise to clear his head. he took a quick glance through the doors before spotting you curled up on one of the couches, a book in hand, fast asleep beside a warm lamp.

harry stopped, taking a moment to admire you from afar. you had gained some weight back being here, which harry loved to see. your cheeks were full and rounded, your hands not as frail, and the color was coming back to your skin. your hair looked impossibly soft under the light, sprawled everywhere around your angelic, sleeping face. harry couldn't help the cheesy smile that overcame his face. he was just happy that you were okay.

outside of that, harry spent most of his time alone, thinking about you. you hadn't reached out to him yet, which he expected, but was surprised when a month came and went and you still didn't confront him. he hadn't made his decision just yet, so he didn't have an answer for you even if you had asked him. he saw you were doing better, but still wasn't confident in letting you go. not just for selfish reasons, of course, but he wanted to be sure you were equipped enough to live on your own.

but, harry had to admit, his heart raced when he heard your soft footsteps pass his door to the stairs. his mind went blank seeing your figure standing in the dining room with jinx, chatting over a plate of snacks together. his blood ran cold when he heard your soft giggle from somewhere in the mansion. like a beautiful ghost haunting his past.

harry knew even before he sent his letter to voldemort that his feelings for you had never truly gone away. deep under his rage, his unforgiving heart, his cold blooded nature, his love for you had always remained. but he was learning to accept your departure if you chose to do so. a final goodbye to the most beautiful part of his unsightly life. harry wasn't sure he could handle the idea.

he was struggling with his thoughts, the constant back and forth he was feeling about you. at first harry was sleeping better with you there knowing you were safe, but now he stayed up late worrying himself sick over the decisions he had to make now that you were actually there.

sitting in bed, staring at the rising sun through his window, harry's mind was exhausting him. he hadn't slept all night and could feel the effects setting in. slowly, he stood from the bed and slipped on his house shoes along with his robe. he quietly leaves his room to not disturb you so early just down the hall.

he walks to the opposite end of the hall towards the balcony, and takes his usual seat facing the sunrise.

harry contemplates here most mornings, but never comes to any radical conclusions. he doesn't know what to do, he doesn't know what's best for you anymore. he knows he selfishly wants you all to himself still, but also knows you deserve to live the life you want no matter what his opinion is. it's the same conversation with himself every time, and it leaves him confused and upset for keeping you here like he is. even if his heart is in the right place.

his thoughts are interrupted by jinx, who offers harry a cup of tea. he thanks her, but quickly calls her back to ask a question. "jinx, um…[y/n], how is she doing?" he asks.

jinx, a quiet house elf, gives harry a smile, and pats his shoulder. her smile is warm and reassuring, as well as her hand. as she walks off, harry smiles to himself a bit. he's not completely satisfied with the answer, but he takes what he can get.

finishing his cup of tea with the sun shining over the horizon, harry turns to head inside before being met with the sight of you standing at the open doorway of the balcony.

you're dressed in a simple long sleeve pajama shirt along with comfortable pants, your arms crossed as the morning chill sets into the air. harry's a bit startled at first, but gives you a polite smile, diverting his eyes and walking around you to leave you be.

"harry," you said softly, turning to him.

harry's heart dropped, but turned to you promptly with eager eyes. the way you said his name, your soft voice, he was already so captivated by you.

"can we talk?"

now harry was worried. this is what he's been afraid of since you got here. he's not ready to answer you. he doesn't know what he's going to say when you desperately ask him to leave and never come back.

"of course," he says calmly, gesturing to the balcony so you could sit together.

once you've joined him in watching the sun, you two fall into a somewhat comfortable silence as the soft wind whistles past.

"i never thanked you," you said quietly after a while, almost a whisper in the wind. harry looked at you, looking at the sunrise. your face was radiant. you were brilliant in the light of the sun, your hair still impossibly soft and beautiful, falling around you, following the flow of the air. harry was overwhelmed with the beauty your presence held in this moment. "you never had to."

you glanced at harry, studying his expression, before turning back to the sun. "it's also been a month." you state coldly. harry's gaze drops, sighing. "57 days, technically," he mumbles.

a few moments of silence pass again, leaving harry an anxious mess in his seat. he tried to think of a gentle way to let you know he still needed time to decide what to do. a way to tell you without putting his life at risk to your anger.

"well, as much as i hate to say this, you were right," you say, still watching the sunrise in deep thought. harry was shocked by your words, immediately sitting up in his seat to get a better look at your face.

you were stoic, your eyes fixated on the scene out beyond your reach. "what?" harry asked, not believing his own ears. a small smile crept to your lips, the first one he's managed to see himself since you've been here. his heart aches at just the hint of seeing it again.

"don't make me say it again, potter," you try to say threateningly with that small smile, your eyes falling to your lap.

harry is stunned into silence, watching you with careful eyes. "but, you were right. i needed time to be healthy again." you said to him, your back still turned. harry stayed quiet, allowing you to continue. "i was angry with you. i still am. i don't think it'll ever stop," you inform him, the coldness returning to your voice. "but," he was preparing himself for the rejection, the questions, the begging.

"i'd like to stay, if you'll have me," you offer in a slightly embarrassed tone, your face turned the other way.

to say harry was shocked at your request is an understatement. he was expecting you to have a plan to take him out if he had rejected your request to leave yet. he never considered the idea that you might actually want to stay with him.

"i'll have you forever, if you let me," harry responds, a small smile on his face as well. you shoot him a warning look. "not forever. just until i feel well again." you tell him, your voice cold once more. you turn back to the sun, now completely over the horizon. "figured you owe me that much," you say in an accusatory voice.

harry just smirks to himself. you could never be soft for long when he was around. but he appreciated that you felt you could ask him to stay, though you never had to in the first place. harry really would have had you forever, if you'd let him.

"stay as long as you need to." he says.

you glance back at him again, your eyes softer this time. you're analyzing him for a moment before turning to him a bit. "it took me a long time to understand why you sent me to azkaban," you tell him, your voice steady and emotionless. harry just watches you, admiring the light surrounding you.

"you would've never stood a chance in destroying the world had i been free," you state, your eyes still examining him. harry offers you another small smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes the same way. "you knew you were weak," you say.

harry's now analyzing your expression, your words swimming around in his mind. "i did," he admitted to you. "it was just easier if i knew where you were all this time," he says breathlessly.

your eyes narrow at him once more, the anger returning to your body language. "easier for you. i would've never done the same if the roles were reversed." you snapped at him harshly. harry believed you. he thought about it a lot in his nightly battles with his own mind.

"you're right," harry stated, still admiring you in your anger. you were upset, but gave harry a questioning look. your eyes softened only a bit. "i think about it all the time," he admits to you gently.

you're a bit puzzled by his admittance of guilt, but don't let it stop you. "i hope it haunts you at night the way it haunts me," you say sharply, your eyes dark.

"always has," harry says to himself, only making you more angry. "you poor thing. must've been so tough relaxing in this mansion knowing i was rotting away in solitary confinement." your voice is strong, powerful, a contrast to the broken words you gave harry your first day here.

"it was," harry says simply, sensing your rising impatience with him. you stood from your seat, towering over him as he continued watching you in wonder. "you evil little rat. you're just lucky my magic is restricted by this spell. i would've killed you in your sleep that first night." you threaten him, gesturing to the protection spell around the castle and balcony.

harry wants to stop himself, but can't keep the smirk off his face. this only angers you more, pulling your arm back and slapping harry square across his face.

he doesn't react, instead allowing himself to stay facing away from you. "i hate you," you state weakly, your hands balled at your side. harry looks at you, the smirk still playing on his lips. "i know," he says softly.

you frustratedly sit back down, turning to look back at the sunrise once more.

a long silence settles over you two, listening to the sounds of the city as it awakens around you. eventually, you stand, turning to leave harry alone on the balcony. you pause before you leave.

"i still never thanked you, harry." you speak softly, your back turned to him. he looks over at you, your curves glowing in the morning light. "you never had to," he replies, and you're off down the dark hallway.

for the next few months, you and harry live together amicably. he sees you around more often as you start to leave the confines of your room. of course the library was a place of solace for you, but he started to see you more in the living room, on the balcony, or in the dining room enjoying jinx's company. for a while you two exchanged polite greetings, simple glances and acknowledgements, before asking about each other's days, or commenting on the weather. it was agonizingly slow for harry, but he was breaking through your walls one way or another.

one day not long after you'd slapped him on the balcony, you sat in the living room with harry, across from his seat on the couch. he was surprised by your presence, but gave you a small smile over his book anyway. "jinx tells me you've been acting different," you'd stated bluntly, watching his face for a reaction.

harry put down the book he was reading, giving you his attention. "have i?" he asks. you were always examining him, your eyes critical but curious at the same time. "she says your anger used to be terrible. even worse than i remember." you lead him on.

harry bit his lip thinking about the years where his rage was at its worst. he tried not to dwell on them, and instead tried to focus on the newfound emotions consuming his life. but he couldn't deny the path of destruction he'd left while seeing red.

harry eventually nodded, his eyes distant. "it was," he admits, his voice just as lost in thought. you shifted in your seat. "you let it ruin everything, harry." you said softly, leaving him looking at the floor in disappointment. "i know," he admitted.

the silence between you was palpable. harry felt the weight of it on his shoulders before you spoke again. "i would hear about the things you did while in azkaban. the guard would tell me even after i asked him to stop." you inform him. harry can still feel your eyes shooting daggers at him.

"for so long i fantasized about being the one to kill you, to finally put an end to voldemort." you said wistfully. harry glanced at you, seeing a longing look on your face. "how brave of [y/n] to put her love aside to kill the dark lord's apprentice." you said in a mocking tone, leaning back in your seat.

harry watched you, imagining you in azkaban, dreaming of putting an end to his life, while he dreamed of freeing you. it was a fair trade, he thought, and not one he would argue against at this point. and it didn't go unnoticed that you mentioned your love for him, either.

"you still can," harry says, causing you to snap your eyes back at him. "excuse me?" you ask with a sneer. harry puts his book to the side and sits up, his feet planted on the ground. "kill me, that is. it's not impossible." he tells you with intrigue.

you're staring at him incredulously, your eyes always searching him. "you're…you're kidding, right? i mean, you took my magic while yours seems to be highly skilled. you really think i'd stand a chance?" you ask with a sarcastic laugh.

harry stands from his seat, taking achingly slow steps around the coffee table towards you. "yes, while your magic is weak, you are not, [y/n]. i've gone out of my way to keep the knives, fire pokers, swords, and hundreds of books on potions and charms out for your use, at any time, have i not?" harry questions you, getting closer now. though you would normally pull back from him, you stay seated, trying to process his words.

standing just before you, harry admires the curves of your face against the light of the fire. "with your nimble step and cunning wit," harry lifts his hand to gently put his fingers to your chin. the first physical contact he's had with you. unless you count the time you held that knife to his throat. "you could gut me like a pig before i even have the chance to squeal," harry's voice is soft but dark, your breathing caught in your throat at the contact.

as he backed away, harry could see the physical effect he had on you. your nervous blinking, your jaw tightening, hands trembling; he found it sweet he could still do that to you, even if you claimed to hate him.

after that day, harry felt less tension between you two. maybe being vulnerable around you made you realize he was never a threat to begin with. he didn't want anything from you, and he didn't care if you never wanted anything from him. as long as you were safe, that was all he cared about. he hoped you were starting to understand that.

though conversations between you were still tense and cryptic, there was a sense of unspoken comradery that felt nostalgic to you both. your serious, brooding angst matched with harry's calm, collected coldness made for an interesting match. it was never the same as before, you were both fairly aware it wasn't ever going to be, but there was an undoubted chemistry that still lingered from your teenage years together.

however, something else that always lingered during your interactions is your distaste for harry's actions. at any chance you can, you poke and prod at his past, partly to understand, he assumes, but also to test his limits. you were always cautious and suspicious of his submissive behavior when it came to this kind of confrontation; how could someone who was, at least at one point, so evil, so cruel and heartless, become so nonchalant about their past? who wipes out entire cities just to 'not dwell on it'?

this was always a point of contention between you, even if everything else until that point had been somewhat playful. it never so much upset harry as it riled you up, bringing strong emotions to the forefront, causing you to lash out at him. though he always stayed calm, he also always seemed to listen. he never disagreed with your feelings or sentiments, if anything he agreed with your hatred for himself. it's like that day in the living room when he tempted you with his death, and yet you never took the bait.

harry rather enjoyed watching you work yourself up, and admired how quick you were to defend yourself. he never wanted to upset you, of course, but sometimes he couldn't help his cheeky responses knowing it would get a look out of you that made his heart jump. it might not be the most gentlemanly thing he does, but something about your anger excited him. it was nothing like his vengeful rage from the past, but it had its own potency that ran a chill down his spine. harry was so used to everyone cowering away from him in fear of his power that he relished your open aggression towards him. it was thrilling, and it was exactly what he needed.

harry tried to remain respectful of his guest, but having such a beautiful mind and body occupy his space with him was hard to ignore sometimes. his eyes would wander, as well as his thoughts, and he had caught himself fantasizing about you a few too many times to admit. you were stunning, of course, you always had been, but there was something about you now that elevated your beauty in harry's eyes. maybe it was the dark, unforgiving coldness of your eyes, or the strong scowl that your expression rested in, or the underlying anger that was ready to bubble over at any point, but harry was completely infatuated with who you had become.

he knew how hypocritical it was for him to admire the parts of you that were forced out in your desperation to survive the decision he made for you all those years ago. though you seldom mentioned your years in azkaban, harry could see and feel the effects it continued to have on you. they weighed on him heavily, and though harry wasn't one to regret what's happened in the past, he wished he could've figured out another way to protect you at the time. a way that didn't dim the light inside of you the way that it has been.

but still, that light was there. when you smiled to yourself at your own quips, when you admired the food jinx prepares you, when you lost yourself in your books, harry could physically feel the light radiating within you. it was familiar, like an old hug from a friend, and was unmistakably beautiful.

sometimes he felt like a teenager again, discovering the parts of you that made him fall in love in the first place. your natural charm, your captivating eyes, the innate draw he felt to you simply by being in your presence. it was unlike anything he's felt for another person, before or since meeting you. but rather than two teenagers flirting over study dates, you were now two closed off adults with a complicated history and 'break up', if you could even call it that. it was nothing like the past, yet it was entirely too similar.

you and harry had been sitting in silence together in the living room, reading your respective books, enjoying each other's company. it was one of harry's favorite things to do with you now, and one of the only ways you two could be together without it ending in tension. neither of you talked, neither of you made noise outside of the occasional chuckle or gasp at your readings; it was a peaceful excuse for harry to be near you, and sometimes admire you from over the pages.

this night, however, you broke the traditional silence by asking harry a question you'd been keeping to yourself. "harry," you started. he loved the sound of his name in your voice, it was invigorating to listen to.

harry turned his head to you, his book still in his lap, noticing you've long since placed yours on the table beside you. "[y/n]," he responded with his typical smirk, returning his eyes to his book.

you cleared your throat a bit, your ankles crossing in front of you. "how often did you think of me," it was more of a statement than a question, your tone not as cold and questioning as it typically was.

harry knew what you meant, of course, and waited a moment before answering you. "i'd never stopped," he said simply. it was true, and it still is.

you turned to look at the fireplace, your knees bouncing out of the corner of harry's eye as he pretends to continue reading. "but you never came back for me," you stated. harry's eyebrows furrowed, glancing at you again before looking away to leave you with your words. "you left me there to die," you said, that familiar coldness returning to your tone.

harry let out a sharp breath. "that was never my intention, and you know that." he says without a reaction. you become visibly irritated, your jaw clenching with your fists. "you never thought about me," you insisted, your words heavy with contempt.

harry shut his book and threw it beside him, leaning towards you. you turned to glare at him, your nostrils flared. "i was lucky to sleep one full night in the last 5 years without a singular dream of you." he tells you, his voice as steady as his eye contact. "you haunt me like a ghost, [y/n]. you always will."

you're looking at him questionably as you stand from your seat across from him, now making your way towards him. "good. i hope you never forget about what you did to me. i won't." you hiss at him, your cheeks turning red. harry's mind races with you towering over him, leaning back in his seat to fully enjoy the view.

"how could i forget about you?" he quips, that same damn smirk making you grit your teeth. you take another, heavier step towards him, your fists trembling at your sides. "stop fucking doing that," you spit threateningly.

harry cocks his head to the side, looking you up and down. he likes seeing you like this, even if it scares him a bit. "what?" he asks, pushing you even further.

you step between his legs and lean into his face, only leaving a few inches between you. "that, you fucking creep. is this funny to you?" your voice is raised now, the anger finally starting to boil over again. "not at all," harry says, still smirking at your reaction.

"then wipe the smirk off your face and stop doing this to me, harry." you instruct him, leaning back to cross your arms in front of you. harry's biting his lip, not able to resist the lustful thoughts he's having of you in this situation. "doing what, exactly?" he asks, curious what you mean.

"this, all of this, harry. you look at me like a starving animal. you watch me around the house like a stalker. you say you think of me all the time and yet you've only so much as touched my chin." you rattle off, clearly frustrated with these thoughts you've kept inside. "you bring me back here and have me live like a princess when there's people outside who live like animals because of you and what you've done," you continue to raise your voice at him, now getting yourself completely worked up.

harry just watches you, like always, not disagreeing with any of your sentiments. as he normally doesn't, he knows you're a smart girl.

"and you're still fucking looking at me like that," you growl, your arm coming across his neck once more, like the first night you were here, holding him against the cushions of the couch.

harry doesn't stop you, as he never does, and instead enjoys the feeling of you kneeling between his legs in an attempt to further choke him. "i swear on my own life i'll still kill you, potter. what the fuck do you want from me?" you interrogate him, your dark eyes searching him for answers.

the smirk on harry's face only grows, causing you to push further into his throat. it's ironic how much he wants from you right now that would only further put his life at risk in your hands.

"i…never wanted…anything…" harry chokes out. he knows he's stronger than you and could easily escape your grasp, but he enjoys the feeling of letting you have control over the moment, and over him.

"that's a fucking lie," you say through gritted teeth, getting nose to nose with harry. "tell me what you want." you insist.

harry's heart is racing, his mind going blank from the lack of oxygen, and an inconvenient erection growing through his trousers. he could tell you so many things he wants, how many nights he's spent imagining you on top of him like this once again. he knows it would only anger you more, and he was almost tempted by that thought alone.

after a few moments of harry struggling to keep his eyes focused on you, you could feel something against your thigh that caught your attention. glancing down, your weight on harry's throat lessened enough for him to breathe slightly. you looked back up at his eyes with a look of confusion and shock before quickly returning to anger.

"seriously? are you fucking turned on right now as i'm threatening your life?" you ask him with disgust, slightly pulling away. harry's cheeks flush as he tries to catch his breath, your arm still resting across this collarbone. he stays quiet, his eyes glancing between you and his lap.

you scoff at him. "you're so pathetic, potter. how you were ever a leader of anything is a mystery to me." you ridicule him, an amused smirk coming across your own face.

your condescending attitude only fuels harry's excitement more, trying not to let his expression expose how much he's enjoying this.

"it's almost like you want me to kill you," your voice is quiet but dangerously cold, giving harry goosebumps as your breath falls across his blushing face. he tries to stop it but his body can't resist a low whine being forced from his throat.

your eyes fall to his lips for just a moment before you lean into them, surprising harry with a hungry kiss as you relax your weight onto his body. more moans escape harry's mouth as you roughly force your tongue past his lips. his hand naturally finds your waist, but you slap it away harshly with your free hand. "no touching." you warn him, your lips brushing against his.

"yes ma'am," harry responds.

you give him a look, your other leg kneeling beside his as you straddle his thigh, your skirt falling perfectly over his knee. "i still hate you," you growl, choking him against the couch once more. "i know," harry says breathlessly, staring at you like a helpless puppy.

forcing him into a suffocating kiss, you eventually let harry breathe as your lips find his neck, your teeth sinking into his skin and hands grasping his shoulders tightly. he groans at the pain, earning a slight roll of your hips on his leg. harry wants nothing more than to touch you right now, guiding your hips into his body, pleasuring you like he's wanted to for so long. but for now, he's just glad you're kissing him, and enjoys the feeling of your breath against his bruised skin.

"shirt off." you command, sitting back to observe the puddle harry's become in your grasp. he wastes no time taking off his sweater, throwing it behind him as your eyes trace over his scarred torso. your cold gaze softens at the sight, your fingers tracing the healed wounds carefully.

for a moment, when you glance at harry through your eyelashes, he feels that same love you shared as kids. the soft, innocent admiration that came with inexperience. for just one moment, nothing was complicated, and there was no history. you were discovering harry all over again, like he had been with you.

the moment didn't last for long as your gaze hardened once more looking at him. you stood from your straddling position, much to his disappointment. he was ready for you to end the moment and leave, but you didn't.

"on your knees." you instructed him. again, harry wasted no time as he sunk to his knees in front of the couch, eye level with the hem of your skirt. he looked up at you eagerly, hardly believing the privilege he had to see you above him like this.

harry's heart was racing as you lifted your skirt to expose your panties to him. his eyes never left yours, his breathing hitching at the beauty just in front of his face. his hands were patiently folded in his lap, aching to grab every part of you.

you slowly lifted one thigh onto harry's shoulder, reaching down to take the glasses off his face for him, setting them to the side. "now," you told him, your voice seductive as you lean your weight into him once more. harry holds his shoulders steady, his mouth close enough to your soaked pantines to nearly taste you already.

"let me ride your face," you coo, your hands finding their way to his cheeks as he continues staring at you with hungry eyes. "it's the least you can do for me," you smirk, your voice still chillingly cold and cryptic.

harry lets out a sigh of relief and desperation, eyes glancing at your panties before returning to your gaze. you slowly push his open mouth onto you, not able to hold back a sound of relief yourself.

harry's eyes flutter shut as your hips roll onto his face, losing himself in your smell and taste. your fingers tangle into his hair to keep him in place, soft, breathy gasps falling from your lips as you watch from above.

after a minute you become too desperate and pull your panties aside, instructing harry to hold them as you force his mouth onto your dripping pussy. harry listens like a good boy and holds the fabric, his hand also taking the chance to grip your inner thigh. a deep moan escapes your throat at the feeling.

harry's tongue quickly works its way across your arousal, enjoying every part of you as he pushes himself further into your pussy. your hands try to pull his hair back to relieve some of the overwhelming feeling, but harry doesn't let you control him for once. he's desperate to please you, his hunger growing the more of you he's allowed to have.

harry's other hand grabs for your skirt to hold it above his head, opening his eyes to meet your gaze. your face is twisted in pleasure, lips bitten, eyes glazed over as you watch harry disappear between your legs.

harry moans at the sight of you, sending shivers across your skin. you moan, biting your lips closed, your hips stuttering against his mouth. "fuck," you mumble, earning another moan from harry as his tongue circles your sensitive clit.

a hand rushed to your mouth as you attempt to hide your filthy noises, the feeling making your eyes roll back. you're trying to mask your pleasure, but harry can see right through you.

you finally successfully pull his mouth off of you, lips swollen and wet as his head rests in your grip. "good," you say breathlessly. your voice falters a bit. you take your thigh off harry's shoulder, again, much to his disappointment.

"sit," you tell him, gesturing to the couch once more. harry complies, returning to his spot on the couch behind him. you reach forward and unbutton his pants, pulling them down a bit with his assistance. you can see his erection through his briefs, causing you to smirk a bit before returning to your neutral expression.

"no touching," you remind harry as you position yourself to straddle his hips, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. harry's sure you can hear his heartbeat racing under your control.

you start grinding your soaking wet panties against harry's clothed cock, your mouth falling open with his at the sensation. the light of the fire behind you leaves harry with the beautiful sight of you glowing in his lap, your warm skin pressed against his as your breathy moans fall into his neck.

harry can hardly take the teasing any longer, his moans becoming needier the harder he gets under you. "fuck, [y/n]," his voice is deep with desire, his head rolling back once your roll your hips into him harshly. you moan at the sound of your own name, your hands returning to his shoulders as your nails dig deep into his skin.

"that's right, say my name," you smirk, grinding into harry at a faster pace. "so pathetic," you remind him.

harry continuously lets your name fall from his lips as you watch him, a helpless, desperate mess beneath you. he loves the feeling of letting you use him any way you want to.

soon you can't wait much longer, and you pull out harry's cock from his briefs. the feeling of your hand grasping his shift makes harry's hips buck up involuntarily, silently asking for more.

you can't help but chuckle at just how eager he is. you're more than enjoying the control and effect you have over him.

"now," you say again, causing harry to look back at you with needy eyes. "you're gonna let me use you until i cum," you tell him, teasing yourself with the feeling of him against your wet pussy. harry's eyes nearly roll back again as he nods for you, his lips parted with uneven breaths.

you slide harry inside of you, adjusting to the feeling as harry's head falls back once again in pleasure. "so fucking wet," harry sighs softly, nearly whining. once your hips lower completely onto his length, you start to ride harry slowly, still adjusting to him. he's a full blown whining mess beneath you, his chest flushed and heaving as your pussy tightens around him.

you take in the sight of him, your eyes exploring every sweaty part of his body as you continue riding at a slow pace. you unwrap your arms from his shoulders, leaning back into your hips. "take my shirt off," you tell harry.

his eyes open again, looking at you eagerly. his hands nervously begin lifting your shirt, holding the fabric carefully between his fingers, and savors the sight and feeling of pulling it off of you, his eyes glancing at your chest before locking with yours again.

"so beautiful," he tells you, your skin looking deliciously soft in the warm lowlight. "i know, now be quiet," you shut him up, picking up the pace of your hips.

harry's eyes narrow at you, the intoxicating feeling of you wrapped around his cock only making him hungrier for your pleasure. the sight of you bouncing in his lap, your breasts just in front of his face as you lean your hands next to his head on the back of the couch.

"open," you tell harry.

he doesn't have to be told twice before his lips part, his tongue eagerly waiting for you. you guide your nipple into his mouth, your hips rolling onto harry's cock in circles. his teeth and tongue tease the sensitive skin, your pussy gripping harry even more and earning a low growl from his chest. his hands remained at his sides, but he wanted nothing more than to feel you everywhere on top of him.

you start riding harry once more, his teeth still gripping your nipple making you whine at the feeling. "fuck," you let the word slip out, your own teeth sinking into your bottom lip. harry's more than aroused at your reaction to him, his cock aching inside of you to release.

you pull harry's head back by his hair, forcing him to look up at you. you reach for his glasses that you sat down earlier, returning them to his face delicately. harry appreciates the gesture and can better see the pleasure in your eyes, a soft smile falling across his lips.

"so pretty," he whispers. he can see the blush you try to hide, looking away from his eyes and down at your hips.

you start groaning in frustration, your grip on his hair tightening, causing harry to wince. "you're gonna make me cum," you tell him through broken moans, your thrusts becoming uneven. harry can feel you tightening around him again. he groans at the feeling, your name slipping from his mouth again and again. this only makes you fall apart more, high pitched whimpers coming from you as you chase your high.

you soon sink into harry's neck, your cries of pain and pleasure falling across his skin as your legs start to shake. you can't even form words as your body feels the waves of intense pleasure from each thrust onto harry's cock. your hands move to his shoulders again, holding onto him for stability as you continue to ride out your climax.

harry grows impatient at the feeling of your orgasm and watching you break down into him. he finally grabs for you, moving your hips to the couch beside him, staying inside you while you gasp at his movement. he kicks off his pants and adjusts himself between your legs.

"harry," you try to protest, your voice weak and shaky. "just let me do this, darling," he growls, his hips becoming flush against yours as he pushes his cock completely inside of you. you let out a gasp, your hand slapping over your lips once more.

harry hungrily digs his cock deeper inside of you with each slow thrust, his hands holding himself up above you as he watches his cock easily slide in and out of your soaking wet pussy. he folds your legs back as he sinks even deeper into you.

"holy fuck," he groans, his breathing heavy, hands gripping the back of your thighs to keep himself steady. "so beautiful, [y/n]," harry tells you again, his droopy eyes focused on your face twisted in pleasure.

you look at him, your eyes full of lust, but still cold as ice. "i…hate you," you remind him through strained breaths, struggling to take his entire length, still glaring at him.

this pushes harry over the edge, his hips quickening until he feels himself start to unravel. he pulls out of your warm pussy and cums on your stomach, groaning at the sight of you below him.

you gasp at the feeling, looking at harry with shock. "did you just cum from me saying i hate you?" you ask, your tone mocking his desperation. harry nods, still stroking his cock slowly, his other hand remaining on your thigh as his moans quiet down.

"you're disgusting," you tell him coldly, but harry can see the smirk on your face and the lust in your eyes. he watches you below him, smirking in return.

"and you love it."

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thirstywoso · 3 months

Text

Colour outside the lines //

Jessie Fleming x Reader

W/C: 1.6k

Warnings: none

A/N: little angst and a little fluff

Edit: I wrote this in less than 2 hours whilst I was bored at work and I'm not sure I like it but let's gooo

You'd have thought working with Jessie would be fun but sometimes her competitive edge and your stubbornness wouldn't always be as beneficial as it usually was. That was the case this week, training was something you had always enjoyed but lately yourself and Jessie were pushing each other to one another's limits. Sure in the long run this would be good for your fitness and stamina, that being said you were run ragged most days.

Today though you were wrecked, it started in the morning when you had arrived at training. Sitting down on the bench in front of your cubby you were talking to Sam about the session you had coming up.

"Y/n if you're going to be fighting for dominance with Jessie again today I won't be partnering with you" she mocked pretending to roll her eyes

You playfully swatted her on the arm. "You wouldn't ever dream of leaving me partnerless Coffey" you put your hand on your chest as if you were offended.

"Just because I love you doesn't mean I can keep up with this weird competitive thing you've got on with Miss Freckles over there"

You laughed at her comment before glancing over at the mentioned woman who sat opposite you in the changing room, she caught your eye and gave you a determined look. "Shit" you thought to yourself knowing today was going to be another tough one.

"Earth to y/n, where'd you just go?"

You looked back at her with a blank expression wondering how long you'd zoned out for.

"Look I'll partner with you always but please don't drag me into it, I've been asleep by 9 after I train with you" she said putting a hand on your shoulder to stop you from wondering into your own world again.

"I can't promise anything.."

By lunch time Sam had indeed regretted partnering up with you.

The morning entailed parters competing in various challenges that would be ranked based on a combined score.

The first challenge was the vertical jump, where each team had to go twice and their best score would be counted.

Sam and yourself just beating Jessie and Janine by 1 point which of course Jessie claimed that you had cheated and wanted a rematch but the coaches confirmed the scores were final.

Next you had an endurance test, where the first person in the pair would run from one end of the pitch and back and then the second one would go and so on. The teams that lasted the longest would gain the most points.

Jessie and Janine had won that to your dismay with you only dropping out a lap before them.

The morning continued on like that where you would win a challenge and then Jessie would win a challenge. When lunch time rolled around you had reached a deadlock.

"Are you not sick of these two bickering over who is better everyday?" Janine asked Sam as they joined yourself and Jessie at the lunch table.

"Who isn't?" Sam Laughed

"Sorry that we like to keep our relationship alive with some healthy competition" Jessie defended

"Babe you must admit we have been going a bit crazy with this lately"

"Y/n's right Jessie, y'all have been killing us and everyone else has been saying it's been getting out of control" Sam tried to reason

"Yeah we understand the competitive side you both have but bickering every time you don't win is getting old even y/n is sick of it" Janine aimed at Jessie

Jessie looked over to you catching your eye, you just held your hands up surrendering

"You think it's getting tiring too?" She said looking disappointed

You didn't answer straight away as you didn't want to upset Jessie and as much as you loved her playful side you were starting to come home drained each day to the point you'd sometimes fall asleep whilst eating dinner that Jessie had cooked you.

Jessie stood up heading for the door back towards the training facilities "Jess, come on don't be like that" you called after her but it was no use.

"Thanks guys" you said sarcastically as you got up in the direction of Jessie.

The rest of training Jessie had avoided you not even acknowledging you when you tried to talk to her. You'd planned on breaking your deadlock during this part of the afternoon but you could tell it wasn't a good idea with the scowl she had painted on her face.

Even the ride home from training was quiet and you knew even if you attempted to talk to her it would be futile.

Getting in through the door Jessie made her way to your bedroom and shut the door behind her, you leant against the cool granite of the kitchen island and released a sigh you hadn't realised you'd be holding in.

Closing your eyes you let yourself think about what the hell had happened today. You decided the best way to get on Jessie's good side would be to cook her favourite meal of yours.

You began cooking your famous chicken pesto pasta and set up the table with some candles. Admiring the set up you realised something was missing so you walked down to the local store and bought some of your girlfriends favourite flowers and grabbed her a coffee from her favourite coffee shop.

When you returned you lit the candles and arranged the flowers heating the meal you had made. Once you'd served it up you put on some music and lightly knocked on your bedroom door before entering.

Seeing Jessie laying there staring at the ceiling in thought

"Hey.." you said nervously

She didn't answer

"Look, I know you're upset but there's some food out here for you and if you're up for it I would like to talk about what happened today"

You closed the door and went and sat at the table, just as you were about to start you heard the door click open and Jessie's feet padding softly towards you.

"Jess, I know you're upset because I hadn't said anything"

"Why didn't you tell me y/n/n?"

"I just, I love you Jess and your quirky competitive side. In fact I've really enjoyed training lately but this past week you've just been putting me to shame and keeping up with you has been an effort and I'm just finding myself so lethargic I can't even enjoy our quiet time together" you rambled out explaining before she could say anything.

Jessie grabbed your hand across the table "I'm sorry, I thought you enjoyed that about me and I didn't want to disappoint you by stopping our fun routine we have going on"

You rubbed your thumb over her hand comfortingly prompting her to carry on.

"I wish you'd have said something, I was just upset that I had to hear from our friends how you were feeling." She paused "I guess I'm saying that it hurt you felt you could go to them before you could go to me"

"Jessie, I promise it wasn't like that. Sam had complained I was working her too hard and I simply agreed that I was tired too"

"I understand, I just hope this means we are okay. I certainly think it'll do us both some good if we get a break from this healthy competition that has slowly become unhealthy" Jessie reasoned

"I agree"

You are the rest of you meal just casually chatting about other things going on in your life. After you finished Jessie washed the dishes and you dried them packing them away.

"How about we go cuddle up and watch a movie?" Jessie held out an olive branch

"How could I refuse" you smile

You'd both changed into some shorts and T-shirts you in her UCLA shirt and her in your old National team jersey.

Cuddling up to Jessie under the blanket you closed your eyes as she gently stroked your arm. Her fingers gently tracing the tattoos that ran from your shoulder to your wrist.

You hummed in contentment as she continued

"You know I've always wondered what these would look like in colour" Jessie said mindlessly

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah"

"Colour them in if you like?"

"Can I?"

You stood up grabbing a pack of colouring pens from a draw and returned handing them to Jessie

"Go ahead!"

You then sat there as Jessie began to colour in the flowers you had on your arm, taking care that she didn't colour outside the lines.

You're not sure how long you sat there for watching as Jessie meticulously coloured each piece of skin. Relaxing into the feeling the next thing you know you woke up. Jessie still tracing the shapes on your body only now you were fully in colour, and a suspicious addition where you arm and wrist connect. As you pulled your arm closer to inspect you realised that she had written her name on you.

You smiled to yourself and looked at her, a guilty smirk evident on her face.

"You really do bring colour to my life" looking back at your arm "literally"

"I love you more than anything" Jessie said sincerely

"I, I don't think I could ever express how big my feelings are for you" you thought for a second "I could genuinely burst when I look at you, my heart combusts just trying to put it into words"

"Ew gross, but you too" Jessie fake gagged at your sentiment.

This earned a shove from you which had Jessie landing on the floor in a pile of blankets looking up at you bemused.

#woso #jessie fleming #woso x reader #jflem #portland thorns #wofo #woso imagine #canwnt #women's football #women's soccer #jessie fleming fic #jessie fleming imagine #woso smut #woso fanfics

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leclucklerc · 1 year

Text

Check Point MV1 - 00. Opening Sequence

Pairings: Max Verstappen x Actress!Reader

Summary: She should've realized that coming back to Formula One after quitting the sport years ago is a bad idea. Especially considering that most of your childhood friends and rivals from your karting days are now in the paddock.

Word Count: 2k

Masterlist Next

The thing is, y/n l/n loves racing.

Maybe it's in her blood, maybe it's the way she was raised, maybe it's her calling. She doesn't know. All she knows, is that all her life, she had been in love with racing.

It's the way her eyes lit up when her father gave her her first kart. It's the way she absolutely relishes in the feeling of adrenaline and wind as she swept through the track. It's the way she would laugh and play with the kids during racing weekends.

As a young child, watching her father drive the world's fastest car in the highest form of motorsport has been fascinating. More than fascinating, really. Watching the man that she could proudly call dad living his dream as he made his way to become one of the most legendary figures in formula one.

The red car that always finished first. Her dad who always climbed out, fist pointing towards the sky - as if he's communicating or thanking with a higher power - as cheers and yells full of excitement reverberated through the air.

She could still remember the bright red flags being waved in the air. How the tifosi's cheered for her dad, how the race track became the liveliest place on earth.

To the young y/n, everything had been so fascinating.

Reynold l/n had been a four time formula one world driver's champion under Ferrari. One of the most legendary drivers to ever existed, someone that had inspired so many young children to take up the challenge of formula one.

One of them, is his own daughter.

It was the main reason why she took up karting at such a young age. Wanting to feel the thrill and excitement just like her father. To see, what made this sport so addicting and so so enthralling. To share this love with the father that she had loved so much.

And yes, y/n loves it.

She absolutely loves it. How her heart would be thumping wildly as she could hear her father cheering in the distance. How with each race, she felt as if she was closer and closer to her father. How she would won races, smiling and laughing, imagining the small podium as an actual Formula One podium.

It was amazing, it was addicting.

Besides that, anyone with two eyes can see that y/n has a talent in racing. At first, her father had worry immensely that she would stand out in a bad way considering that she's a girl in a male dominated sport. That she would be pushed around or be belittled by the people around her.

That worry turns out to be unfounded considering how amazing the girl is at the track. After all, she's not only a girl who's karting. She's a girl who's winning in karting. Y/n always stood on the podiums with her male counterparts, proving that yes, a girl can succeed in this sport. That gender has nothing to do with talent and hard work.

Her racing trophies could be seen lining up the walls of her house, accompanying her parents. His father would boast his daughter's apparent talent in racing to everyone that would listen and well, everyone will listen to Reynold l/n if he started talking.

If anyone had asked her what her first love is, she would say racing.

Racing is her first love, no doubt about that. Though, racing, is not the only thing that she loves.

Because the thing is, as much as y/n loves her father, she also loves her mother. As much as she had idolized her father, she too, idolized her mother greatly.

The beautiful Nicole Merle-y/n had been Hollywood's icon once upon a time. Or maybe, she still is. An amazing actress with beautiful face and peerless talent. A woman, that had become an icon in the entertainment industry. Many of her movies had become a classic, spanning generations upon generations.

Back during the height of her career, she would become the muse of so many musicians. Love songs would be made while thinking of her, and romantic movies would be produced with her as a lead actress.

Just like her father races, as a child, y/n too had watched her mother acted in front of the cameras. The way the woman could shift her emotion so seamlessly, how tears would drop from her eyes on command, how she can command the attention of the room with a single glance.

Her mother is a woman that y/n aspires to be.

A femme fatale that can make men fall in love with a single glance. An independent woman with her own value and stance. An actress, that shine in front of a camera so brightly.

During her younger years, aside of racing, y/n also acts during the off season. From smaller roles as a side character in her mother's films or even the main character in a movie with a child protagonist. Similar to karting, it was not long before people realized that oh, she's also talented in this.

As expected of her mother's daughter. As expected, from the child of Hollywood's icon.

She's the youngest actor to be nominated for an Oscar for her lead role. She actually won an Oscar for her supporting role despite her young age. Many people thinks that she's the second calling of her mother. The next Hollywood's A-lister that will take the entertainment industry by storm.

Y/n l/n, a girl who has everything.

For the longest time, y/n had insisted on doing both. That both racing and acting is important for her and there's no way she can let one of them go-

"The Ferrari driving academy wants you in their program," said her father after one of her race. The adrenaline is still high and she's still holding her first place trophy tightly. "They want you to debut in GP3 shortly."

Y/n blinked at that.

From besides her, her mother let out a laugh. "Ah, isn't that amazing?" she said. "Did the academy called you?" The last bit was asked directly towards her father.

Her father shrugged. "Stefano also called," he said as they walked towards their car. "He said that there's a possibility that y/n is going to become one of... Ferrari's future talent for their F1 team."

And, isn't that the big news?

Stefano Domenicali is Ferraris' formula one team principal. He's the team principal of the team that her father used to drive with and won three driver championship. He's the team principal of one of the top team in formula one.

He's also a man that seems interested in her talent.

"Amazing," said her mother. "It's an amazing offer!"

"I know," said her father too. "But this also comes with a consequence."

Time seems to stop at that. His father didn't even have to clarify what the consequences are because the three of them know.

"Darling," started her father as he crouched in front of her. "You know what this means right?"

Y/n nodded, eyes staring at the older man. "If we accept that offer, I'm going to be a full-time racing driver," she started, small hands hugging the trophy on hand tightly. "I- I have to follow a sportsman training, which will take a lot of time and strength." She continues.

"Yes," said her father. "That is true."

"Which means, I can't do both racing and acting anymore," said the girl, eyes flicking towards where her mother stood, also staring at her. "I have to give up acting if I want to accept that offer."

Her father ruffled her hair. "You can take your time to think about this," said the man. "Max also got called up for Red Bull Driver Academy recently right? Maybe you can discuss this with him."

The girl nodded at that. Her childhood friends did told her that he was being called up for Red Bull junior program a few weeks ago. He had been so excited and she too, had been excited for that.

"What about you, Dad?" she asked, desperately trying to avoid his gaze. She doesn't want to see any doubt or disappointment on his eyes. "Which one do you think I should pursue?"

"Well," started the man. "You tell me, it's your life darling. It's your decision, I don't want to influence it in any way."

"Y/n" said her mom gently, caressing her cheek. "Both of your father and I had talked about this," she said gently. "It really is your decision; we don't want to force you."

Y/n stared at her.

Racing or acting.

She loves racing and yet at the same time, she also loves acting. The two activities that she loves the most in the world.

From the start, she knows that both of them needs a lot of dedication and time. That to do both at the same time would be impossible. Still, she held out toward the small hope that maybe – just maybe – there's a possibility that she can do both.

If she takes up the offer, she probably have to move to Maranello and live there or somewhere close. There's a chance where she won't have enough time off to shot any movie of series. There's also a chance that when she finally got into GP3 or the higher category, racing will consume her life fully.

Y/n loves racing, she really do.

But can she gives up acting for racing?

Or can she give up racing for acting?

Reality came crushing down and it is time for y/n to choose.

"And that's the story of how I almost became a Formula one driver," laughed 24 years old y/n l/n with a charming smile. "But I guess, all of you know what decision that I made that day."

Amidst the bright studio lights and setup, the female positively glows. From the way her black dress hunched elegantly as she sat, towards the magnetic gaze that she directed to everyone in the room. When y/n l/n is in the room, it's impossible to look away from the female.

It's no wonder that the highly acclaimed actor had won many awards over the years. Many of her works had been praised highly and even won many many oscars. To anyone who had seen the female act, they all would've thought that she was born to do it.

So it's a bit surprising to hear that not only the female almost gave up acting, she almost gave up acting to be a racing driver.

Jimmy Kimmel let an actual laugh at that, half disbelieving. In his hand, a picture of y/n's karting days could be seen by everyone on the studio. She could see the small racing suit as well as the bright pink helmet that her father gave her years ago. Certainly, it brings back memories.

"I mean, that is an interesting story!" said the man as he put down the picture. "Formula one is so different from being an actress!"

"I agree," she said good-naturedly. "it would've changed the trajectory of my life tremendously."

"But tell me, did your father got mad by your decision?"

The actress let out a twinkling laugh, eyes creasing. "He's upset for maybe a day or so," said the female, remembering how her father had said that he was not disappointed but sulked around the house for some time. "Though we made up when I cooked him a breakfast in bed a few days later."

"Amazing!" said Jimmy, laughing at the answer. "It's like choosing between your dad and mom, right?"

"For sure," she said. "When I ended up choosing to act my mom was so smug about it. Though, that doesn't mean my love for the sport has dwindled, me and my dad still follow the races often on tv."

Nodding, Jimmy decided that it's time for them to change towards the next topic. "Speaking of Formula one, the Miami Grand Prix is around the corner," he started, learning forward a bit. "Are you going to attend?"

Y/n tilted her head a bit, making sure that the camera captured her charming points. The question hangs in the air as she began ponders the answer. Truthfully, the last time that she had come into a formula one race in person was back when she was 17. It was fun, meeting all of her dad's friends and she even had the chance to tour the paddock and watch the race from the Ferrari's garage.

Though, over the years, as she became busier and her schedule became more packed, following the sport live is almost impossible. After all 22 races in 22 countries is a lot and she can't possibly tune in live to every each of them.

The Miami Grand Prix this year is different.

While formula one had always been a popular sport back in Europe, it had never taken off in America. At least, until the last few years. She began noticing more and more people talked about formula one in LA. Maybe it's because of the Netflix documentary? Or maybe it's because there's a change in management? Who knows.

All she knows, this year Miami Grand Prix will be different from any other races. Every celebrity that she knows will be there. Literally.

Even if she has no interest in Formula One, she's sure that her agent will somehow make her attend the event. Either for publicity or maybe as the brand ambassador of one of the sponsors. After all, there is no way she'll miss out the hottest event in the past few years.

"Hmm," she hummed playfully. "I mean, I do have a father-daughter bonding day scheduled in Miami GP," she said, making cheers and claps erupted in the studio.

Laughing, Jimmy nodded his head. "Great then!" he said. "Are you excited to see the sport that you almost become a star in?" asked the man. "Maybe you will have a change of a heart in the upcoming grand prix."

"Doubt it," she said cheekily. "Considering my movie will be released this month."

"And that ladies and gentlemen, is the final plug for the night, Product of Glory will be out in theatres at the 1st of May!"

With that final say, y/n let out a beautiful smile as Jimmy did his closing ment as he thanked her for her participation in the show before she exited the stage.

#formula one fanfiction #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula one imagine #formula one fanfic #f1 fanfiction #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you #Max Verstappen fanfiction #Max Verstappen x reader

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absurdthirst · 7 months

Text

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.

#pedro pascal #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo imagine #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo the bubble

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etherfabric · 4 months

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Messages for Self Empowerment

Choose a pile by which picture you resonate with the most.

If your mind is too busy to clearly decide, take a few deep breaths, and use the finger of your non-dominant hand to hover over the images. One will give off the most subtle yet prominent signals, like tingles, a magnetic pull, or temperature. This is your pile. Multiples are also possible.

You are the ultimate authority over your life. I merely provide my perspective. Sometimes the Universe lines you up with something that doesn't resonate with your truth, so you have contrast to find out what does. Never give away your power.

Pile 1

The World, Judgement

Look at what you accomplished. You have dared to show your true colors, and boy did it turn out great! Remember how scared you were in the beginning? How uncertain things were? And yet, you did it. You heard your calling and answered to it. It might have taken another shape than you first expected, and granted, that can feel like a hit to the ego. No one likes to be wrong. But you listened to your intuition and pushed through, even when doubts were drumming your heart and mind. You deserve to be proud of yourself. You deserve high praise. Enjoy the fruits of your labor - the next chapter is just around the corner.

Pile 2

4 of Wands, 5 of Cups

Return to your safe space. You took great care in creating it, and you deserve a little peace of mind for now. Turn to what's cozy and familiar, and leave the big leaps for another day. It might not look as heroic as you'd like, and maybe even guilt will creep up once you step away from the noise, but trust in the power of the pause. You need to fill your own cup before rushing to the next big thing. Do easy things. Be soft. Go the path of least resistance. Maybe a good cry is overdue and will feel safe enough to show itself once you settled down. Let it take up space inside you as long as you can bare, and I promise you will feel better afterwards.

Pile 3

6 of Cups, The Star

Nurture your dreams. I don't mean the ones you escape into when the real world gets too dull or harsh - I mean the ones you said out loud with your chest when you were a kid. Maybe the exact details of the dreams changed, because your grasp on realism wasn't the firmest back then, but this dormant flame inside of you wants to be fanned back to life. What did you want to be once all grown up? Why did you want that? How can you take a real life step towards this today? The tiniest bit counts. Open up to a trusted friend about your aspirations, or research about that old obsession you had. Reconnect with that innocent sense of hope, even if it feels scary. You have the means to protect it better than ever now.

Pile 4

Queen of Pentacles, 5 of Wands

Congratulations on your open heart and calm mind amidst the stormy seas. There was quite some tension and quarrels inside and around you recently, and despite a few hiccups along the way, you managed to give the right impulses for a peaceful outcome. Continue with your nurturing towards others and yourself. Find a piece of nature you can ground yourself with - a park, a forest, maybe just a little weed on the sidewalk you can greet everytime you walk past it. Remind yourself of the interconnectedness of everything to not take on 100% responsibility. It's not just you out there. You aren't the only factor, and that's a relief.

#tarot reading #pick a card

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shrenvents · 4 months

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Haunting Fear of the Dead

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death, implied (small) age gap, survivors guilt etc

Pairing: Rick Grimes x reader

Summary: Negan’s aftermath served as the last straw to instill in you, the belief that nothing lasts forever.

Word count: 1k

...

The conversation rings in the back of my mind, and your face dominates my thoughts. That despairing, lost expression still makes me wonder whether I crossed the line.

Life is moving too fast, and the overwhelming concept of inevitable death, and her vivid memory haunt me.

The idea, that you may see her in my eyes...

Things fall apart, and I'll never be her.

I knew Lori for no more than a week before she died. And now I've known you for several years, yet she hasn't left my side. Has she left yours?

Your wife and I couldn't be more different.

A troubled, younger girl, who can't help how unloveable she feels. How vulnerable I am. How susceptible I am to doubt. Versus the mother of your child. Your woman before the fall.

How can I compare? How can you love me? After this tragedy and loss, how can I return your love?

Maybe these are all the things I should’ve conveyed, but the moments gone, and I’ll never get you back Rick.

…

"If ya sigh one more time girl, I'll smack you," Daryl intimidates passively, and I snap my obscure stare at him below my post. Then, looking at the world outside these metal walls, one last time, I turn to the ladder. "Call Rosita, I'm tired."

"Nuh-uh, if I'm here all night, so are ya," He challenges, catching my gaze. He holds it before scoffing in defeat, obviously feeling guilty, after viewing my sorrowful appearance.

As I pass him, he grips my forearm. "I know things are bad right now, but yer a survivor," he murmurs, full of pity. "And if ya ain't gonna believe in yerself, believe in Rick." He trails off, and I nod to make him loosen his grip, so I may walk away.

Things just blew over with the Saviours, now that Negan is behind bars. But regardless, death plagues my conscience. How can I think my happiness is important, or everlasting when my survival is just dumb luck?

Ending things with Rick rang so much truth to that.

Now lonely and isolated, I only have myself to blame. Since confusion and indecision left my bed empty, my head is full of profuse distress.

To this day, after weeks, I'm still unsure of what I was trying to achieve -what I was running from, and why was it him?

No, I know...

I feel it again, her looming behind me. Lori. Whispering stories of their pleasant life together before Walkers existed.

Her ghost regularly tells me how life would be different if it wasn't the end times. She remarks how Rick wouldn't look my way if I wasn't his only option.

My rapid imagination slows to silence when I pass his house. I picture Carl on his porch bouncing Judith to sleep, and misery brutally latches onto me, forcing me to remember what is lost.

'You left him when he needed you the most...' Lori breathes.

Tears prick my eyes, and I bite my bottom lip to reduce its trembling. Then, a call of my name drags me out of the dark, and I seek out its source.

"Rick?" I reply, swallowing my cry and straightening my back. Blinking frantically, I assess him as he marches towards me, seeing concern playing across his features.

'Good things aren't meant to last...'

"How are you?" I croak.

"Fine," he stammers slightly, "you?"

"I'm well," I lie pathetically, and even though he clearly doesn't believe me, he accepts my response nonetheless.

"Shouldn't you be patrolling the wall?" He questions hesitantly.

"Yeah, but Rosita offered to take over, to let me rest you know?" I murmur with a shrug like I'm asking him to confirm my lies. He nods again, seeming just as awkward. "Need me to walk you back?" Rick proposes, motioning his pointer in the direction of my place. "No," I utter flatly, far too fast. He gulps, unable to hide his dejected manner.

A beat later I wordlessly amble away, but he hollers my name again, and I freeze, whirling around, brows furrowing. "Can I walk you back?" He urges this time, and his dilated pupils hold such fervour and desperation, that I give in. "Okay," muttering, I look to the ground as he jogs to my side.

Walking closely together, we're uncomfortably quiet. I peer at him and see his eyes squeezed shut as he inhales, expanding his chest to its limit.

"Rick?" I mumble. His eyelids pop open, and he swivels his head to mine, brows raised.

"Why are you," exhaling, "forcing yourself to-" I cut myself short, and he grasps my meaning. "I'm not forcing myself to do anything," Rick rasps. "If anything, I'm forcing you, to be with me," he drops my befuddled stare. "I'm sorry," he grunts.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," I splutter as a wave of grief, racks through me. "I'm the one with problems," my meek voice gets choppy.

The pace of his legs falter. "Problems," he echoes, puffing a soundless laugh in disbelief. "Problems I want to hear," he more or less pleads. I faintly shake my head.

When I stagger, Rick stops moving completely, and captures my hand, yanking me squarely to him. I take in how alarmed his features appear and again, wish I was alone so I could cry.

"C'mon beautiful, talk to me," he begs, cupping my hand in both his palms, and when he utters my name of endearment, I finally break.

Liquid flows down my cheeks, and Rick, with his thumbs, hopelessly tries to sweep them aside. But the more his rough pads graze my skin, and he pulls me closer, adorning me with such affection, the more tears stream.

He wraps his sturdy arms around my smaller frame, tugging me tightly to his chest, and I collapse into him. He holds me upright when my knees buckle, and simply lets me cry.

"I broke up with you, why on Earth are you consoling me?" I sob, words escaping my mouth in messy bundles.

Sighing, "Because I love you," Rick's voice grows rocky, "and I hate to break it to you," he chokes up, "that isn't gonna change, just 'cause ya don't feel the same."

His statement makes a louder cry erupt. But, I struggle to muster the courage to dispel, the third lie told tonight.

Of course I love him.

"I'm here, always," he soothes, nuzzling his nose into the crook of my neck, and I feel water drip onto my nape.

As my arms encase his shaking body, Lori materializes behind me.

Reminding me, for the hundredth time:

I don't deserve Rick Grimes, and I never will.

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flyingcatstiel · 9 months

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I’m currently reading superbat fics (sorry, destiel, stony and dinluke, I’ll get back to you some day) and I’m having great time with commenting and authors replying to me. It’s a whole new fandom experience when I can read fics just for personal enjoyment, without planning fic rec lists. So much easier to comment, wtf. Anyways, I’m following 4 superbat identity p*rn fics right now, and it’s glorious. What a feast. My favorite trope, so many interesting ways to explore it. Happy holidays to all superbat writers but especially those 4 WIP writers🎄

ETA - here be some recs

ETA, March 2024 - HERE BE SOME UPDATES!

@pinkb00bsocks asked about those 4 WIPs. Here they are! The usual disclaimer - there are plenty of excellent superbat WIPs going on right now, but I've limited spoons and these are the ones I currently enjoy.

The World and All Its Hedgehogs by Ginevra_Benci [M. 8,007 word count, WIP, 4/?] To investigate illegal arms sale taking place at a tropical resort hotel, Batman goes under cover as a vacuous billionaire Brucie Wayne and Superman takes a part time job as a porter. They didn't coordinate this, they don't know each others civilian identities. Every time they talk there are at least 3 different conversations going on and it is glorious. Also, so much lust. ;)

(Also, check out Interviewing & Counceling series by the same author. Clark is having a superhero identity crisis and Bruce is there to catch Clark gently as he spirals down. It has one of the softest identity reveals in superbat fics. ETA - the series is now complete, it has 5 parts and 18k word count. Awesome ending to the softest identity reveal story)

Watching Our Stars Align by ClarkeStetler [M, 28,840 word count, WIP, 7/14] There's a dating/chatting app only for superheroes and all identities are secret. What could go wrong? Bruce and Clark get matched under their new pseuds, and same happens to Tim Drake and Conner Kent. Now fathers and sons gotta navigate complicated relationships that come with secret identities and judging your coworkers hastily while talking heart to heart to anonymous superhero. The identity porn part happens through DM, which just happens to be another favorite trope of mine. [The story is going strong, it has 10/14 chapters now and a wonderful tangle of 3 secret identities!]

(Love) Triangles Have Multiple Centers by frozenpotions [T, 27,281 word count, WIP, 4/10] This fic wastes no time getting playboy billionaire Brucie Wayne and pining-after-his-coworker journalist Clark Kent together. After that, first time uneasy partners Batman and Superman gotta solve a case and their civilian selves gotta deal with the realities of their one night stand. Complicated doesn't even cover it! [The fic is being updated and Clark and Bruce are being put through new trials, 6/10 chapters]

A Favor for a Friend by RedFive [Explicit, 18,286 word count, WIP, 4/7] Omega verse fic with alpha playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne and omega journalist Clark Kent. I'm fascinated by dominant, flirtatious, sexually ravenous alpha Brucie Wayne who moonlights as a stoic, covered in scent blockers thus unclear second gender, Batman. Meanwhile omega Clark, due to being Kryptonian, is much less ruled by his second gender. That is, until he meets Mr. Wayne. This fic has so much lust and tension between the two. Does accidental heat triggering counts as a soulmate mark? I'm gonna count it like that. [The fic has entered the finish line, only a chapter or two are left to finish this wild, explosive, life changing story of two people who were meant for each other. 8/? chapters, 44k word count] The fic is now complete!!! 9 chapters, 56,153 word count. (Also, there's this new TV show about two gay dudes, and istg, they look like Bruce and Clark from this fic. I'm not naming it here because I don't want to highjack the show tag with superbat post, but go and check the tag on tumblr)

*****

And a special shout out to two identity shenanigan WIPs that are not actively updating but are absolute must reads.

ship-to-ship combat by pomeloquat [M, 62,737 word count, WIP, 12/13] OK, so, for me personally, this is the ultimate identity p*rn fic across all fandoms I've read so far. This fic has one of the highest amount of secret identity pairs in superbat fics. There's the usual pining silently Batman/Superman, then there's Clark dating Bruce, Superman saving Bruce Wayne from peril, Clark Kent chatting with Batman. And the cherry on top is Clark writing Bruceman fanfic which is basically a RPF of his two friends, Batman and Bruce Wayne. Which leads to an internet friendship with a fellow fan, who is, you guessed, Bruce. This fic has great reflections on fandom and shipping culture. But the very beating heart of this fic is about how easy it is to lose something you wished to have but were afraid to ask for. The fic, at 12/13, is technically a WIP, but the main reveal is already done, and it is glorious. ETA - THIS IS NOT A DRILL, the fic is finished and the last chapter is a super meta cherry on a top of delicious, layered superhero identity and fandom shenanigans parfait. 13 chapters, 76,7k word count.

10 Things Every Brucie Fan Needs in Their Life by pomeloquat [T, 8,956 word count, WIP, 5/10] The main premise of this fic is hilarious and yet so, so right. Bruce Wayne is promoting himself as a nation's boyfriend instead of a playboy, and is making bank out of his wholesome, PG rated merchandise. The chapters of this fic tell continuous story but they also can be read as separate vignettes, so there's really no cliffhanger. This fic is so soft and fluffy, it will heal your soul. Also, Superman has celebrity crush on Bruce Wayne. Batman is amused.

#flyingcatstiel has thoughts #I’m doing small superbat reblog spree tonight #just to get everything out of my drafts #superbat #identity p*rn #identity shenanigans #superbat fic recs #i already added these to the reblog #but eh #let's ad them here as well #add #i worked hard on them #sometimes i forget how to tumblr #fic rec of the day

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chicken-wayng · 16 days

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If Rhaenyra was truly a Valyrian supremacist she wouldn’t have had three kids with Harwin Strong. Also her mother is half Andal just like her siblings.

She’s not a supremacist like Daemon but I do think she’s a narcissist, genuinely believing the world revolves around her. That’s what made the rift between her and Alicent inevitable imo, she expected Alicent to want to be nothing more than her dutiful lady in waiting for the rest of her life with no ambition or desire of her own.

Rhaenyra does mellows down when she’s older, mainly because Jace keeps calling out her bs but you can’t truly change who you are. Even in 2x03 although she desperate for peace a part of her was still expecting Team Green to simply give up rather compromising because the idea of either her or Jace stepping down was incomprehensible.

So prev anon was right that 2x08 only worked because Alicent has degraded herself back to her bare bones, she’s exactly how Rhaenyra wanted her to be 20 years ago: the dutiful handmaiden who will wait on Rhaenyra and her sons, no wants of her own.

I disagree. I don't think Nyra sleeping with Harwin (+ having his children) is enough evidence that she wasn't also a Targ supremacist. I grew up in Arkansas, where racism is still very much alive. Yet all of those racist fucks would still get down dirty with a black Mamacita because they're attracted to her (but just don't respect/view her as a person, which a lot of Arkansans don't see women as to begin with). So it is possible to mess around with someone and literally have not a drop of respect for them. Also - still from what I've seen in Arkansas - it's possible to have a mixed heritage and be racist towards part of it and prefer the other more. In MY OPINION, what I observe from Nyra is similar to this. I especially think after she marries Daemon it becomes worse. I think her Targ Supremacy and Bastardphobia run hand in hand (her bastards are okay because they're Targaryen/her's while others are a sin, type of mindset). Also doesn't she say to Laenor that each time she had hoped they were his? So she hoped she was carrying his children not Harwin's, is what I gleaned from that line (also I'm thinking 3 way but that's a different post). However I do understand what you're saying and I don't believe it's like full racism but more of a casual racism, like I don't think she's fully aware of it.

I do agree that the rift between Nyra and Allie is because of both of their mindsets and I do think Nyra never thought about Alicent's future more than how it would connect to her's. I truly do think if she did think about it she did think Allie was always going to be her's in some way, probably never marrying so Rhaenyra could spend her time with her whenever. I also think that Alicent knew this and that's why she stripped herself of her titles/colors to see Nyra in 2×8. She wanted Nyra to see her as the human she is but seeing that confirmed to Nyra her own supremacy.

Also I absolutely love how they show us Jace confronting Nyra. It reminds me a lot of confronting my mom. My mom has 3 bastards (myself being the most awesome) and she's also racist. It's out of her love for me that she's starting to unlearn a lot of toxic behavior that she's realizing came from her dad. I see a lot of Nyra in this, however Nyra doesn't have a child who believes love is why we were put on this earth and we are all a part of a huge puzzle that only forms it's picture when we share our stories. Plus she's in a world so dominated by the patriarchy even as Queen she has no fucking say. Jace is trying but unable to properly verbalize it cuz he's still a child (say what you want, until someone is 20 I don't fully count them as an adult, plus Jace is like 17 when he dies, right?) and has so much weight put on him. Plus terms like "bastardphobia" aren't a thing, it's just the norm.

Thanksya for sharing your opinion and allowing me to do so as well!! I hope you're having a good day💜

#chickenwayng #thanks for the ask!#house of the dragon #hotd #rhaenicent #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #alicent targaryen

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dracowars · 1 year

Text

your friendly neighborhood nurse | peter parker

pairing: mcu!peter x gwen!reader

word count: 2,2k

summary: where peter is badly injured and y/n helps him

a/n: my first peter parker os, ahhh!!! i'm so excited and can't wait to see what you think of it 🫶🏻 please be kind and enjoy~

warnings: angst, mentions of blood, mentions of (severe) injuries

universe: marvel

Your gaze lazily flies over the first few lines of the page, the words logically connecting in your head to form a coherent sentence. The book lies open on your lap, your knees pulled a bit closer to your body so it is easier for you to dive into your newest book. Whenever you read, you feel like you leave New York City behind, escaping into different worlds and other realms, fading out the real world around you.

Outside your room, you hear the quiet clinking of glass as a member of your family is apparently emptying the dishwasher. You can hear the deep tone of your father's voice but your mind is too busy with the words you are currently reading to concentrate on any of them.

You even block out the loud sirens from several passing fire trucks and police cars, subconsciously perceiving them, but not actually understanding them. What you do notice, however, is a loud but dull bang a few seconds later as something hits your window with so much force to startle you out of your dreamland but not enough to break the glass.

Suddenly, your whole body is tensed up, your pulse increasing vehemently when you look at your window and see nothing. The sirens continue to blare through the streets of New York, but the moment you think you see a shadow on the fire escape, you couldn't care less about them.

Quickly, you carelessly toss your book onto your blanket, reality now more important than the words in it, and you swing your legs over the edge of your bed in a haste before quickly stepping to the window.

Strong rays of sunshine hit your face and your eyes close out of reflex, but you reach for the window anyway and lift it up. You still haven't discovered the source of the bang, but something inside of you tells you that it is important, that you are needed.

And you were right because once you lean out of your window a tiny bit, you spot a figure on the right side of your window, sitting against the wall.

"Peter?", is all your vocal cords manage as a shiver runs down your spine when he looks at you before his name even fully left your mouth, his senses striking, your eyes meeting.

If there is one thing in this already cruel world that you hate the most, it's seeing others suffer, especially if you know those people. Especially if you love those people. Deeply.

That is why your heart beats even more painfully now that you see the numerous wounds and the blood - so, so, so much blood - on his face and body, his hair disheveled from the mask. His suit is torn in a few places, the areas you sewed last week ripped open again.

"Oh my god", you curse under your breath and don't waste another second to climb out the window and onto the emergency staircase of your huge apartment building, crawling to his side.

As soon as you reach him, his pained face lights up for a second, shooting you his characteristic smile. But it doesn't fully reach his eyes as it normally does which worries you even more.

"Hey you", he whispers softly, his voice obviously strained as he tries to turn his body into your direction, failing as he whimpers in pain.

"What happened?", you immediately ask, concerned about his current state. You have seen him after a lot of fights, after good and bad battles, after winning one or losing one, but never did he look so weak and vulnerable to you. Peter always tries to seem strong in front of you, he wants to be twice as strong for the both of you, but in this moment, right now, it just breaks your heart.

"Oh, you know. Just the usual", he replies, shrugging before realizing that every little movement hurts. "A bad guy striving for world domination. Nothing new, really."

"Peter, this is no joke", you scold him, startled about the fact that he can still make jokes looking like this. "We need to get you to the hospital immediately."

Stumbling to get up, you are immediately stopped by his scraped up hand that wraps around your forearm, his grip tight to keep you from leaving.

"Relax, cupcake. I just needed to see you, that's all", he tells you, but you don't buy it, especially not when every breath he takes causes him unimaginable pain. "Just gonna rest for a bit and then I will feel much better."

"Peter! I'm warning you, keep your damn eyes open", you immediately shake him as he only whispers his last words quietly and his head slowly lowers. You quickly grab his face and force him to look at you and sure enough, his disoriented pupils find yours. A small smile creeps onto his lips as he takes in another shaky breath.

"You have to listen carefully now, okay? We have to get you inside. I'm going to lift you up, but I can't do it alone. You have to help me with this with the last bit of strength you can muster, alright? It will probably hurt, but I can't help you any other way, Peter", you gently speak to him, a certain urgency in your voice, and even though his senses seem to be quite foggy, he nods and immediately tries to get up with his arm against the wall of the building. Quickly, you support him and pull his arm over your shoulder so that most of his weight is now on you.

"Okay, okay. One step-" you start to explain, but Peter staggers forward dangerously before you quickly press your hand against his chest to steady him. "One step at a time. Just look at what I'm doing."

Together, you finally manage to get him to your open window, where the next obstacle is already waiting for you: how are you supposed to get him inside?

“Let me think about the best way to get you in there", you mumble, your head lost in thought as another police patrol drives past your apartment building. Before you can come up with a solution, however, Peter suddenly bends down and squeezes himself through the window in excruciating pain. That done, he almost falls over if you hadn't followed him, cursing, and prevented him from meeting your floor by grabbing his waist. With his help, you maneuver him to your bed, where he lies down groaning.

"I swear to God, when this is over, I will be the one to kill you", you say under your breath, eyeing his entire body, inspecting all the wounds that need medical care.

At the sight of him, dark thoughts suddenly rush through your mind and your eyes become watery, but you know that you have to be strong for him and you do not allow a tear to fall down. With a deep breath you get up and go to your adjoining bathroom, where you always keep a first aid kit under the sink. After all, this isn't the first time Peter has asked you for help; it's just never been this bad.

Before you can get to your bed again, there is a loud knock on your bedroom door all of a sudden and you stand still for a second, completely frozen in place. Your eyes wander to Peter, lying on your bed in his miserable state. A boy lying in your bed.

Spiderman lying in your bed.

"Y/N?" your father speaks from the other side of the door, turning the doorknob like he always does, not waiting for your answer.

"Stop, Dad! I'm changing!", you shout, running up and reaching the door just in time so you can lean against it and shut it close again.

"Oh, my bad. Listen, something happened and I have to go out again. That useless Spiderman guy- Whatever. I know we were supposed to cook your favorite meal today, but that has to wait until tomorrow, sweetheart", he now speaks to you through the door and your heart beats a beat faster the moment you put two and two together. "I just have one request for you: stay here, in your room. Don't go out today. Your mom is in the kitchen if you need anything."

"Yes, Dad. Don't worry, I have loads of homework", you reply, letting out a sigh of relief as soon as you hear his footsteps walking away from your door, quietly locking your door from the inside. But it's only when you hear the front door closing that you move again and rush to Peter's side, who, to your surprise, still has his eyes open, even if only slightly. Immediately, his hand blindly reaches for you.

"I'm here, I'm here now", you assure him quickly and squeeze his hand tightly, but let go again to open the first aid kit. However, when you see all of his wounds, you find it difficult to keep track of all of them and feel overwhelmed.

"Cut it open", he croaks quietly, making you look at him in surprise. "The suit."

Understanding him, you nod and quickly cut through the fabric so you can tend to his injuries better. However, you also see the numerous dark blue and purple spots that are spread all over his upper body and your head doesn't even realize that he is now lying in front of you shirtless.

"Are you checking me out right now?", Peter mentions with a mock undertone, immediately snapping you out of your thoughts and your cheeks take on a deep red blush.

"N-No! Of course not!"

"Ah, man. If I had known that, I would have done a few more pushups beforehand", he teases you and on the one hand you are relieved that he is no longer on the verge of passing out, but on the other hand this really isn't the time to make jokes.

"You are such an idiot", you giggle quietly and use a damp cloth to wipe away the blood that is spread all over his muscular upper body. Then you use an alcohol-free wipe, and gently dab his skin with it. He immediately groans in pain and wiggles around, but since you both know there is no other way, he grits his teeth and tries to make as few sounds as possible.

When you reach his face to clean the wounds there, you repeatedly catch yourself looking into his glittering eyes, which are fixed on your face. With every eye contact you feel warmer and you try to suppress the blush that wants to creep onto your cheeks again.

"I'm sorry that you won't get your favorite meal today", Peter finally says, a pained expression on his face as you dab at the deep cut on his nose. "Ouch! That stings!"

"Well, if you didn't always jump into hopeless fights, then we wouldn't even be in this situation", you roll your eyes at him, concentrating on being as careful as possible so that you do not cause him more pain.

"Others would have been hurt..", he murmurs under his breath and if it weren't so quiet in your room, you probably wouldn't have heard him at all, but his words make you pause as you look directly at him.

The serious look on his face warms your heart and with a smile you nod, showing him that you understand. That he just can't help but to help others because that is what he likes to do. That is what he is made for.

When he still doesn't break the intense eye contact after several seconds, you clear your throat and begin to apply a healing ointment on most of his wounds and then bandage them.

"Peter, you really have to go to the hospital and get checked. I'm not sure if you broke some bones", you plead and he nods in agreement, but reluctantly. Absentmindedly, you run your hand through his hair and then down his face, always careful to not touch any of his wounds.

"But you are the best nurse", Peter admits, making your heart beat faster again as he intertwines your hands on his bare chest. He places his other hand on your cheek and you nuzzle into it, never breaking eye contact. And when he puts his hand on your neck and pulls you closer and closer to his face, you feel like your heart stops completely. Only shortly before your lips touch do you break eye contact.

Peter kisses you with so much affection that you almost feel dizzy and you feel every part of your body that touches him.

With a hiss of pain, he is forced to break the kiss eventually, the pain now less but still present. Tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, he looks at you with so much love in his eyes that you want to kiss him again immediately, but he stops you.

"Thank you", he says and you can literally feel his gratitude, which he emphasizes with a kiss on your knuckles. Smiling, you place a soft kiss on his cheek before connecting your lips once more.

"Everything for my superhero."

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demeterdefence · 7 months

Note

Thinking about your "Rachel bashing og greek myths" post, methinks she believed herself to be making greek culture a favor similarly to the author of The Phantom of Manhattan, the unofficial sequel to The Phantom of the Opera

In the preface, the author begins by saying that Phantom, unlike Frankenstein or Dracula, barely made a dent in world culture until Andrew Lloyd Webber came along to make the musical, which he considers the "true" version even tho like...it wouldn't exist without the novel! He bashes Gaston Leroux and basically states that his attempt at writing failed miserably and it's like DUDE, again, the musical and your problematic sequel wouldn't even exist without it, and just because it was bigger in France than in the usa it doesn't mean it had zero impact in culture

But of COURSE unless it's usa-approved then it doesn't count and isn't worth anything *sarcasm*

PHENOMENAL point, FANTASTIC point, absolutely true and correct

i can't be a total dick and say this is an issue solely created and implemented by rachel, because we've seen non-western cultures and religions absolutely whitewashed to hell and back - like, people have been drawing jesus of the bible as white for centuries when he was a middle eastern palestinian jewish man, and good god look what the west has done to the religions of india, china, and japan. but it's the way these kinds of stories drip with a sort of smugness in removing the original culture, in depicting it as backwards and broken.

rachel wants to claim she's making a feminist retelling, but the original myth was already feminist. ancient greece didn't pretend their society was not fiercely male dominated and patriarchal, and hades stealing persephone was absolutely in line with the traditional myths - the twist is that demeter wins. demeter punishes the male gods who stole her daughter, and the ferocity of her rage and grief forces hades and zeus to give in. if persephone hadn't eaten the pomegrante seeds, she wouldn't be in the underworld at all! this is a story that is so clearly a triumph for the mothers and daughters of ancient greece, of many worlds over, because it depicted explicitly that a mother's love was more powerful than even the gods. and rachel pisses all over that.

literally even going beyond that, looking at the society that is olympus and the underworld - all the technology they use, all the innovations they have. who exactly is making these??? where exactly is the material coming from??? you can handwave away most of the inventions by saying it's magic, but we've seen demeter talk about algebra, which was invented in the ninth century by a muslim scholar from persia. in speedrunning to this so called perfect modernized world, rachel actually erases the cultural offerings and developments of dozens of other ancient worlds, and kind of just gives the credit to the underworld, which is run by a slave driver.

persephone constantly bemoans the dullness of the mortal realm, and prefers to literally lounge around doing nothing, when the mortal realm is inventing the olympic games, the democratic forum, FOOTBALL. you have thousands of things to show the gods involved in - largely because the gods were the patrons!!! why do we never see zeus looking over the olympic games??? they happen in his sanctuary!!!

like the disdain rachel has for ancient greece is insane. she can't even bother to research the food typical of the time period, seeing as she writes persephone being looked down on for being vegetarian when vegetables were a key and staple diet of ancient greece. one could argue that a vast majority of ancient greece were vegetarian by general habit. she's baking cheesecake and french desserts and having fast food and carrot cake and maybe - maybe - she'll mention baklava. the ancient greeks are FAMOUS for their art, but we sure wouldn't know that from lore olympus. the only character who even references ancient greek music is apollo, with his lyre, and that's not exactly a ringing endorsement.

and this is not to say that an adaption has to follow the ancient text to a t - that's just not feasible and no one is expected to do so. but there's really something to how rachel does dismiss or ignore the canonical importance of so many of these stories to replace them with a western interpretation. even the therapy speak is grating. in episode 227, when persephone is talking about the concept of virginity, she's absolutely correct in pointing out how that's largely a social construct - but in light of the world she lives in and the world she helps control, the same idea could have been reached through means other than americanized psych talk.

so often, people will look back at the ancient world and think we are morally superior because we do not have the same views, or we have seemingly "developed." that is a view i abhor, because it removes the very act of learning and developing and understanding. rachel really talked big about how removing the incest of ancient greece made the story better, but incidentally, she managed to also take out the feminism, and literally the entire lgbt culture of ancient greece. apollo was even considered the patron of homosexuality! he was called to bless same-sex unions! zeus had DOZENS of male lovers; ares, hephestus, and hermes had known male relationships, and several of the ancient heroes and gods of greek mythology were described in terms we would refer to as transgender in modern times.

if rachel had gone "i'm writing a love story that's originally inspired by the myth of persephone and hades but it's very much modern and removed from the myths" that would be one thing, and i would not be bristling at that; myths have inspired countless stories over the centuries and will continue to do so for centuries to come. the problem is rachel wants to claim a rooting in these myths with zero understanding of how they work or why they work, and absolutely lets her contempt for the ancients shine through in every single aspect of her comic. it's gross and it's petty and she deserves none of the self-appointed "mythology expert" she's given herself.

#answered #anti lo #anti lore olympus #oh this is so long im so sorry anon i got heated lmao #me adding yet another run on sentence: AND ANOTHER THING -#i basically crammed six different essays in this reply anon forgive me i am so sorry #me going back to proofread this now that i'm slightly calmer: why did i use so many fucking commas

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hopelesslygaysstuff · 1 year

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pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: Y/n is part of the avengers, but her whole world changes when she is sent away for special training with the infamous Scarlet Witch. She focuses on the mission, but doesn't expect to fall in love on the way.

content warnings: Mary being a shitty dominant for like 1,000 words

word count: 4.3k

Series Masterlist

Being a part of the avengers was for the most part, easy. At least for y/n it was. Her tasks mainly consisted of watching from the shadows with Natasha while the flashy team members - as Tony liked to call them - fought their way through a situation. Once most of the “bad guys who use cheap cologne” as Tony says, were incapacitated, Natasha and y/n would make their way into the heart of whatever building their target was in, and Natasha would take care of any final bosses while y/n focused on getting vital information from the hard drive system.

Many would assume that y/n was just a nerd who helped hack into their targets systems, which, to be fair, is true. This created a net of safety for y/n, who had been in the red room with Natasha and escaped with her. She had all of the necessary skills of a black widow and often trained with the rest of the team, but she much preferred to stay in the shadows. Unfortunately, her lack of exposure to the public made her the perfect candidate for Fury’s next project.

“What do you mean I have to Go AwAy for the summer?” y/n spoke with a tremor in her voice. The rest of the team who were seated around their main debriefing table quickly grew silent as they watched a staring match go down between Director Fury and y/n.

Natasha was watching y/n and saw the way her jaw clenched and her fingers gripped the sides of her chair. The redhead knew that y/n was well on her way to getting angry, which could be very bad for the rest of the members in the room.

Director Fury stood up, ignoring Natashas warning glare, and spoke loudly to the whole team.

“I am sending y/n away for the summer for some special training, and she is the only member of this team who needs this training.” He finished and glanced over at y/n who had suddenly gone very still. She needed to process this new information, but it was very difficult to do that in a room full of people looking at her and watching her every move.

“And why is y/n the only member of this team who needs this training, what will her tasks after this summer be?” Steve spoke quietly, always the mediator, and directed his question to Fury. The director's shoulders slumped slightly, but Natasha and y/n noticed. His eyes darted to the side quickly before he responded.

“Y/n is the only Avenger that hasn’t been exposed to the public eye, and based on the files she secured on our latest trip, we are now aware of a large and very exclusive sex trafficking ring somewhere on the south coast.” He sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose before continuing.

“In order to successfully take down this ring, we need someone who won’t be recognized and can prove to the leaders of this operation that she can be trusted.” Fury’s eyes darted to the side once more before he nodded his head once and wearily sat down.

Natasha’s eyes narrowed, as did y/n’s. Natasha glanced over at her friend, who she guessed already knew what the Director was hinting at based on the tightness of her shoulders and the way her hands were folded tightly in her lap. Natasha also knew that the rest of the team hadn’t read between the lines like they had, so she looked Fury in the eyes and asked, “And what type of training exactly does y/n need, since we all know what she’s capable of.”

Fury just stared back with a defeated look in his eyes, glancing once more at y/n before pursing his lips and slowly started explaining, “This is beyond my control, and what the Board feels is best for this sensitive situation.” He trailed off looking around at the rest of the team.

“Damn it Fury just tell us what type of special training y/n needs already.” Tony growled, wanting this meeting to be over and already planning on making hot chocolate with y/n and letting her rant about the situation with him.

The rest of the team looked expectantly over at the Director who slumped a bit in his chair. He cleared his throat then with a steady voice finished his explanation. “Y/n will be trained in the art of seduction, different from what she already learned in the red room,” he sharply said as he held his hand up to Natasha who had opened her mouth to speak. She sat back and gestured at him to finish.

“The whole ring is run by a group of men who, after researching them, and self-proclaimed dominants, run their ring through the help of submissives, and train their victims to become submissives as well.” Fury takes a deep breath and then continues, looking straight into y/n’s brown eyes.

“Y/n will be trained by a dominant over at an ethical business run by a dominatrix known as the Scarlet Witch. Her facility trains submissives for a large community of dominants over on the west coast. However, her facility is based around consent from all participants, as the BDSM scene over there is very large.” He speaks the last line quickly then gets to his feet, making his way over to y/n.

Bending down slightly, he puts a gentle hand on y/n’s shoulder turning her towards him. She stares back at him with determination in her eyes.

“You understand why you are the only one who can complete this mission, and take down this group from the inside?” He questions, his eyes full of promise.

She looks around the table at her team who all wear different expressions, her eyes catching Natasha’s worried ones, then looks at Fury with a raised chin.

“I accept.”

---

Once Director Fury had closed the meeting and sweeped out of the room, the rest of the team slowly started filtering out. Y/n stayed in her chair and stared at the table. A million thoughts raced through her head.

‘Should I have publicly exposed myself like Natasha? Wait no, if I had done that this mission would have been a failure. But why me? I’m happy being the nerd behind the scenes. Well… am I actually? Maybe this will be fun, I’ll finally get laid. No! Stop it, that's not helpful right now.’

Y/n was shaken out of her thoughts by a hand resting on her knee. She looked up to find Natasha’s concerned eyes on hers. Tony was standing right behind her with a boyish grin on his face.

“What do you say champ, wanna make some hot chocolate with us and gossip about how bad Fury’s wardrobe is?” He wiggled his eyebrows at her, and the corner of Natasha’s mouth turned up.

Y/n laughed, her shoulders shaking as she stood up and placed a hand on both of their shoulders.

“I would love nothing more” she said as her laughter died down, still amused at Tony’s quip. All her thoughts about the mission were pushed to the back of her mind in anticipation of a good gossip session with her two favorite people.

Natasha stood as well, turning to face Tony with one eyebrow raised. “Maybe we’ll make it a girls night, paint our nails and everything.” She said passionately before walking out the door.

“If she thinks that scares me off, she's dead wrong,” Tony’s face morphed into a mischievous smirk as he popped one hip out, “I think I would look wonderful with baby blue nails”.

Y/n’s laughter started up again and she gripped Tony’s arm for support. She said in between gasps, “I think you’ll look fabulous with baby blue eyeshadow too.” And only laughed harder when Tony’s smirk turned into a pained sort of grimace.

They started to make their way up to the kitchen with y/n still laughing occasionally, where they could hear Natasha getting mugs out for hot chocolate. Right before the door of the kitchen, Tony grabbed y/n’s arm and gently turned her to face him.

“Just so you know kid, if you do want to talk about the mission or your upcoming summer, Natasha and I are always ready to listen.” He said earnestly with a small smile on his face.

“Thanks Tony” y/n said, gently dislodging herself from his grip and patting his arm, “I don’t think I’m quite ready to talk yet but once I am, we’ll totally have another girls night and do face masks while I tell you all of my deepest fears.”

She said the last part jokingly, but knew that Tony got the message, once she was ready to talk she would come straight to him or Natasha.

“Sounds good kid, now let's go see who can cover Natasha in more whipped cream” He smirked and rushed inside the kitchen.

Y/n just scoffed and walked inside as soon as she heard Tony’s yelp of surprise, enjoying the sight of Natasha with a whipped cream bottle in her hand and Tony with a new creamy hair-do.

Nathasha leaned in close to Tony as y/n grabbed another bottle of whipped cream from the counter.

“Never try to outdo an assassin buddy.” She smirked and smushed some more of the whipped cream into his perfectly gelled hair and y/n started shaking her bottle in preparation for the all out whipped cream fight.

These two were the best friends she had, and she was going to make the most of it until summer came.

___

Once y/n had debriefed with Fury on her training for the summer, the last three weeks had gone by quickly. She continued to train with the team, and read through the numerous files the Avengers had on the infamous Scarlet Witch's business. Nobody knew much about her, except that her name was Wanda Maximoff and she was the youngest dominatrix to ever run the business, which y/n fact checked, was in fact run ethically.

There were multiple positive reviews in BDSM chat rooms about the facility where the Scarlet Witch and her team trained the submissives, and the classes that were taught about the BDSM community through her business. Wanda also owned many smaller scale buildings which she had converted into playrooms for members of the community, and would often host parties or informational events at them.

Throughout all of her research, y/n had grown to respect the woman and her nervousness about the summer had faded into a dull thrum instead of the heart racing fear she felt when Fury debriefed her.

Not to say that she hadn’t freaked out of course, she kept her promise to Tony and during one of their “girl’s nights” Natasha and Tony had held her as she cried and stressed about the mission. She later apologized for getting mascara all over Tony’s newest Gucci shirt, but he waved her off and stated that some things were more important than his clothes.

Her biggest worry was that she wouldn’t be able to complete the training successfully and the whole mission would fail. Natasha reminded her that the whole mission wasn’t completely on her shoulders, and Tony had talked her through the logistics of infiltrating the facility on the south coast, which helped her realize that her whole team was behind her.

Fury had made it sound like she was going in single handed, but her part was just getting inside the facility and getting close to the leaders, then sending all the information on their main database to the Avengers, and they would take it from there.

All of her preparation throughout the spring had led her to this moment. The summer had finally arrived and she had packed one duffel bag with everything she needed inside it. Fury had got in contact with a dominatrix on the west coast who agreed to lead y/n through the training she would need at the facility.

Y/n stood on the roof of the Avengers compound waiting for the helicopter to take her over to the airport for her flight. She nervously picked a thread on her shirt while mentally running through everything she had researched. The sound of footsteps on gravel made her turn around and see Natasha in a pair of big sunglasses with a sheathed knife in her hand.

“I know you already have multiple knives, but I wanted you to be able to take a part of us with you.” Natasha held her hand up before y/n could speak and handed her the knife.

Y/n slowly pulled the blade out and saw both the Iron Man and Black Widow logos engraved on the blade, with the Avengers logo closest to the handle. She slid the knife back in its sheath and put it in a side compartment of her bag before throwing her arms around Natasha.

“I’ll be okay,” y/n mumbled into the spy’s ear, feeling her arms tighten around her waist. “It’s only one summer and I’ll be back before you know it.”

Natasha let out a wet-sounding laugh before clearing her throat and murmuring, “We’ll miss you on girls night, I think Tony wants to try hot pink on his nails next.”

Y/n laughed and broke the hug, seeing unshed tears in her friends eyes as Natasha raised her sunglasses to wipe at them. She smiled softly and went to say something else, but the drone of helicopter blades drowned out her voice.

Natasha simply squeezed her hand and stepped back with her shades firmly on her face, while y/n shouldered her bag and squirted her eyes against the dust that the helicopter had kicked up. She glanced back and waved before stepping into the aircraft. Once inside, she closed her eyes and waited for sleep to come, knowing her day would only be hectic once she arrived in California.

---

The plane touched ground with a jolt, the sound of wheels on the asphalt waking y/n from her sleep. She blinked her eyes open while looking around at the other passengers starting to unbuckle from their seats. She waited quietly in her seat while looking out the window at the sun setting. She could see the waves coming up from the pavement in the dry heat and was very glad she was wearing a t-shirt instead of a hoodie like she had originally planned.

Once most of the other passengers were off the plane she stood up and stretched, getting rid of the last bit of tiredness from her body, before grabbing her duffel from the overhead bin and making her way off the plane.

Once in the airport, y/n made her way down to the drop off point labeled G, where her dominatrix for the summer would be waiting. She subconsciously straightened her shirt and ran her fingers through her hair, wanting to make the best impression on her new host. Luckily, Fury had sent her a picture of her host, a woman with short blonde hair and a stern expression on her face.

Once she reached the checkpoint, y/n immediately saw her host, and straightened her back before walking up to her. The woman looked her up and down with a critical eye, before thrusting her hand out in greeting.

“My name is Mary, and I’ll be hosting you for the summer, but don’t think that you’ll have special privileges from me or the facility just because you’re an Avenger.” She stated, her eyes hard and grip still firm in y/n’s hand.

Y/n simply nodded before pulling away, “I understand ma’am, I don’t expect or want you to treat me differently from past submissives you have worked with.” She kept her voice steady and professional, but internally screamed ‘What the actual fuck??’

Already this woman was a walking red flag, based on what y/n had read about how dominants were supposed to present themselves and act with submissives. Respect was a key component to ensuring that a dom/sub relationship was successful, and this woman had just thrown that idea out the window.

Now a bit more cautious towards her new host, y/n respectively followed a half step behind Mary while glaring at the back of her head as she walked her to an all black SUV, listening as she spoke the whole way.

“First rule, you may call me ma’am or mistress, whichever you prefer, but never my name. Second rule, don’t speak unless spoken to as all good submissives stay quiet and respectful when around other dominants, if you need to speak you must ask me first.”

Mary took in a deep breath, glancing back at y/n, who showed nothing of her internal thoughts on her face. She turned back around and opened the backseat door to the SUV and gestured towards it.

“We’re already late, so I’ll go over the rules on the drive over” Mary stated as she started up the car and pulled out of the parking lot.

Y/n didn’t know how she was meant to ask to speak if she couldn’t speak to ask, so she simply caught Mary’s eye in the mirror and gestured towards her lips.

Mary sighed but waved at her to go ahead, eyes firmly on the road and lips pursed.

“What are we late to?” Y/n inquired, thoughts racing with the new rules and doubts about her host, trying to keep her voice as neutral as possible.

Mary’s face tightened as she glanced at y/n in the mirror, “It’s an event hosted by the Scarlet Witch, and she’ll be there tonight so be on your best behavior.” She finished her sentence with a pointed look at y/n and turned her eyes back to the road.

Y/n looked out the window and listened as Mary explained each of her rules, but mainly thought about the upcoming event and the possibility of meeting the infamous woman that evening. She tuned back into Mary’s droning voice once the woman asked if she understood all of the rules.

“Yes ma’am, I do. I’ll be on my best behavior tonight.” Y/n looked at Mary with a picture of innocence on her face, letting a small smile grace her features as her host parked in front of a castle-like building.

Wait, no. It was a castle.

A small one at that but still a castle, and the only thing y/n could think was ‘How rich is this lady, should I be running my own business too? Maybe I can ask her for business tips.’

She shook her head to get rid of her entrepreneurial thoughts and once again walked behind Mary as they ascended the steps to the main entrance. They stood in line as y/n glanced ahead and saw some people at the entrance with metal detectors and a queue line to a set of tables in the main hall.

The line moved quickly, and once they made it past the metal detectors Mary put her mouth close to y/n’s ear and whispered harshly, “If anything goes wrong tonight, the punishment will not be pleasant.” And pulled back with one eyebrow raised and a smirk on her face.

Y/n simply nodded, her heart thudding at the possibility that she would mess something up. Hell, she probably would mess up, and Mary would jump on it just to get the chance to punish her.

Once they reached the tables, Mary started filling out some forms about who they were and what their relationship was, and y/n took the opportunity to look around the main hall.

It was massive, and also beautiful. There were three giant silver chandeliers with candles across the ceiling, and tastefully decorated walls with windows stretching throughout the whole hall. Y/n recognized some of the paintings on the walls and choked as she realized how expensive the decorations must be.

Turning her attention away from the interior design, she watched servers flit from table to table, offering small snacks and glasses of champagne. She saw multiple pairs, and could tell who was the dominant in the pair almost immediately. But, with other couples she couldn’t tell right away. Some people were kneeling at the feet of others, while some couples sat together and talked with others.

Y/n felt a stab of victory go through her at the sight, knowing that not all pairings were as extreme as Mary had made their summer relationship out to be. All she had to do now was convince her to lesson up on her tight hold of the reins.

Dragging her eyes towards the front of the hall, her breath stuttered as she saw the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Y/n had seen a couple of pictures of the Scarlet Witch, but in person the woman looked almost majestic. She was standing in the center of a slightly raised stage with her hands behind her back, her posture loose but her eyes sharp. Her auburn hair was falling in loose curves around her shoulders and her outfit looked to be straight out of a fashion magazine.

Y/n gazed up at her, slowly dragging her eyes up from her boots, to the belt at her waist and past her chest until she reached her face. Y/n froze as she met the Scarlet Witch’s gaze. She felt her cheeks heat up and her breath become shallower as she fought to keep her composure with those eyes on her.

And what majestic eyes they were, bright green and staring directly into her soul. She could see the small crinkle at the edges of her eyes and the soft smile that graced her wonderful features. Her eyes seemed to be searching y/n’s, and she hoped desperately that she had found what she was looking for.

Y/n blinked suddenly as she felt Mary shift beside her, reluctantly tearing her eyes away from the imposing figure on the stage to look at her host. Feeling the loss of those wonderful eyes on her.

Mary looked at y/n with a small smirk on her face as she held up a piece of leather. The man behind the table gestured at her to go ahead and y/n watched as Mary’s hand slowly revealed the object.

It was a collar.

A fucking collar.

“Oh hell no,” y/n said, pushing down on Mary’s wrist, noticing the way her eyes hardened and her mouth became a small line. The woman went to speak but y/n stepped back and raised her voice slightly.

“I never fucking agreed to wear that Mary, you have no right.” She hissed at the woman in front of her, her hands becoming tight fists at her side.

The man behind the table gestured to two men behind y/n and she panicked as she felt them take a hold of her upper arms. She knew she could take them down, but she didn’t want anyone to question how she had gained that particular skill set.

Instead, she stood still with her heart pounding and vision becoming blurry as she felt her anger and frustration at the situation swell up. Mary was once again smirking, and y/n wanted nothing more than to wipe that smirk off, preferably with a strong right hook.

“Now honey,” Mary started with a sickly sweet voice, “Remember our talk in the car, you did agree now didn’t you.” She finished with a raise of her eyebrows as her hands started to raise the collar towards y/n’s neck.

Just before y/n felt the cool leather around her neck Mary faltered, and her eyes glanced over y/n’s right shoulder. Her expression turned from victory to worry in a matter of seconds, and all y/n would sense was the smell of vanilla and a cool yet comforting hand on her forearm.

“It seems, Mary, that you are creating problems once again.” A soft melodic voice reached y/n’s ears and the woman she was staring at earlier came into her view. The Scarlet Witch's eyes were hard as she glared at y/n’s host.

“Perhaps we should speak more privately?” The woman asked, but her expression told y/n that she was giving an order.

The two men behind her released her arms, but the comforting hand stayed on her forearm, and as Mary gulped and shoved the collar back into her pocket, the Scarlet Witch turned to y/n and her eyes softened.

“Follow” was all she said before glancing dismissively at Mary and guiding y/n towards a door near the stage. The hand that was previously on her forearm now rests lightly on the small of her back.

All of y/n’s anger was quickly dissipated as the comforting figure smelling of vanilla and looking like a goddess led her to a small room with two couches and a mini fridge. The woman turned to y/n with a small smile on her face and leaned in to whisper, “You won’t have to stay in her care for long” before pulling back and staring once more at Mary.

At the feeling of the woman's lips so close to her ear, y/n shivered and valiantly tried to suppress the very detailed thoughts that had been surfacing.

‘Now is not the time for this, keep it in your pants for like ten more minutes.’ She admonished herself, fighting to keep her breath steady and her blush from rising.

As the blonde woman sat down meekly on the couch and the Scarlet Witch moved over to the mini fridge to grab some water, y/n stayed near her spot at the door, as always ready to make a quick escape.

The red haired woman turned to y/n with a question in her eyes and glanced at the couch, and after noticing that y/n didn’t seem much inclined to sit down she simply nodded and took a seat.

The woman took a deep breath, sitting regally on the couch as she stared hard into Mary’s eyes. “We have much to discuss.”

Y/n shivered again.

Next Chapter

#mommy wanda #dom!wanda #wanda fanfic #wanda x reader #mcu #marvel #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader

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thlayli-ra · 4 months

Text

Succubus!

(Sequel to 'I Prayed For This...')

Characters - Drew McIntyre, CM Punk, Jinder Mahal, The Undertaker, Frankie Calaway (OC)

Pairings - Drew McIntyre/CM Punk, Drew McIntyre/Jinder Mahal, CM Punk/The Undertaker

AU - Valetverse (created by Syreina)

Rating - Mature (18+)

Warnings - Male slash, dom/sub undertones, non-con elements, forced kissing, forced bondage, gagging, abduction, choking, masturbation, mentions of past abuse, strong language, mild violence

Words - ~4,800 (yeah, it's long, sorry!)

Background Info - In a world where women no longer exist, society is split into two; dominants (the ruling class) and valets (who possess the 'inualidus chromosome' that allows them to bear children). Stripped of basic human rights, valets are expected to be entirely subservient to the dominants that claim them and few are prized higher than the valets of the WWE.

Summary - The rot takes hold...

From the moment the bell rung it was sheer brutality. The combatants had gone to war, firing every weapon in their arsenal and while there had been advances on both sides, there was only ever going to be one winner. When Drew McIntyre landed the devastating Claymore that almost decapitated CM Punk, he knew it was over. Throwing himself across Punk, he pulled his leg back to deepen the pin while the referee counted the one, two, three.

And it was all over! He had won!

Standing up, he yanked his wrist out of the ref's grasp - he didn't give a damn about posturing to the crowd. All he cared about was the battered, broken and bloodied valet lying crumpled at his feet. Punk groaned as he slowly turned onto his stomach, curling an arm around his bruised ribs. From above, Drew watched the tattooed man manoeuvre his leg out to the side to steady himself, the way he usually did whenever he found himself face-down on the canvas.

Completely oblivious to the danger lurking above him.

Stepping closer, Drew nudged his boot between Punk's open legs. The valet jerked with shock as the dominant's toe bumped him through his trunks. One dazed eye creaked open to plead silently with the victorious Scotsman but Drew only sneered back.

The referee scuttled over with the papers and Drew snatched them off of him, signing his name on the dotted line before there could be any interference. The very second that the deed was done, he crouched down, bending his entire frame over his fallen foe and presented the contract to him.

'Look at this, Punk,' he taunted, grabbing up a fistful of the valet's dark, damp hair and pressing his face flat against the paper, smearing the fresh ink with Punk's blood and sweat. 'What did I tell you? I said I'd make you my bitch and I have. Your arse belongs to me now!'

A taped palm connected with the middle of Drew's chest, shoving him back. The Scotsman chuckled menacingly at the weak retort, throwing the contract aside so that he could grab his newly won prize by the ears.

'You can fight me all you want, it doesn't change a damn thing,' he yelled in the valet's face. 'In the eyes of the law, you are mine and there's nothing you can do about it. So if I want to do this-' he pulled Punk towards him, ramming their lips together harshly. The fighting spirit inside his beaten opponent flared up, and Punk got his fingers in between their foreheads, pushing Drew off but the Scot was not to be denied, cackling as he pinned Punk's wrist to the mat and kissed him again. Forcing his tongue between Punk's pursed lips and swirling it around obscenely, forgetting his own warning of 'PG, brother'.

Yanking him up by his snagged wrist, Drew tossed the weary valet over his shoulder before retrieving his papers then walking up the ramp with both of his prizes, grinning from ear-to-ear despite the ungodly blare of boos from the crowd.

The dominant ignored the looks and frowns that awaited him in gorilla, striding right past them with an iron grip on Punk's legs, squeezing them tight to his chest. His body was so warm and wet from the ring, the bare skin of his thighs sticking to Drew's sweaty pecs. He couldn't wait to shed the rest of his new pet's gear and see what delicacies lay underneath.

'Now then, Punky,' he sang, marching down the hallways of the backstage area. 'Where's your private locker room? Big star like you, gotta have your own locker room, right?'

Eventually he found the door with the name 'CM Punk' taped to it and went inside, making sure to snap the lock shut behind him before dumping his prize onto the floor. Punk let out a weak cry as his battered body collided with the unforgiving concrete.

'You know, when you make such sweet sounds like that it's hard not to bend you over that bench and claim you right here, right now.' Drew dug the toe of his boot underneath Punk's chin and tilted it back. 'But luckily for you, I'm a patient man. I can wait. Now, let's get you packed up and take you back to your new home, shall we?'

Without warning, the wounded wrestler fought back. Grabbing Drew's ankle, Punk flung his arm up, aiming for a brutal low blow but the dominant was able to step out of harm's way before the taped fist hit its target. The shock on Drew's face dissolved into rage and he savagely smashed his boot into Punk's side, kicking him again and again, all while laughing maniacally.

'Haven't you learnt yet? Didn't I make myself clear in that ring?' Drew tossed back his mop of sweaty hair as Punk curled in on himself, coughing feebly with pain. 'You can't beat me, Punk so stop trying. Just accept that I am your new dominant now. You belong to me! Did you not see your nice new name on your papers. You're no longer Phil Calaway, you're now Phil Galloway. Not that different, really, if you think about it. You should get used to that easy enough.'

From down on the floor, Punk rasped something out, the words choked by another harsh cough.

'What was that?' Drew said, bending in close to the beaten down valet.

'Fuck... you!'

Drew went silent, gritting his teeth behind pursed lips. His fingers tensing into tight fists. He took in a sharp breath to calm himself before he beat the defiant valet black and blue.

'You want to do this the hard way, Punk?' He couldn't hide the snarl in his voice 'Fine, then we do this the hard way.'

Leaping up to his feet, he went to Punk's bags, ransacking his belongings until he found exactly what he was looking for. He chuckled menacingly as he grabbed up a roll of the valet's wrist tape. 'This'll do nicely,' he smirked, yanking the end loose with a loud ssrrrrkkkk. 'Let's start by shutting up that big mouth of yours.'

The second Drew grabbed his jaw and forced the tape over his lips, Punk yelled out, but it was too late and his protests were soon muffled by layers and layers of white tape being wrapped around his lower face. Once firmly gagged, Drew thrust his newly acquired prize flush against the floor and straddled the small of his back, capturing both of Punk's frantically flailing wrists. Despite the valet's struggles, his hands were soon bound together with tape, snaring them behind his back. His ankles were next to follow until the tattooed valet was entirely restrained. Defenceless.

It didn't seem to matter to the older man, however. Once Drew got up off of him, he began to thrash against his binds, desperate to loosen them and break free, all while spitting stifled insults from behind his gag.

Drew wasn't finished with him. Amongst the valet's belongings, he spotted a bundle of faded black fabric. Punk's hoodie! He lifted it up to admire the weathered garment, even going so far as to press it against his nose and take a deep breath. It reeked of Punk. That same alluring scent that permeated the very air of his private locker room, the same aroma that had hung around them in the ring, the intensity becoming too hard to bear whenever they were pressed together in close contact. Drew had enjoyed the first taste of his new pet and he looked forward to becoming more intimately acquainted with it later.

For now...

He grabbed the off-white tie of the hoodie and pulled the entire length out. This, he used to fasten Punk's taped wrists and ankles together, a nasty final insult to the defeated valet. Gagged, hog-tied and exhausted, his semi-nude body bruised and bleeding, Punk finally surrendered to his immediate fate. Placing his sticky cheek against the cement floor, he went quiet and still, focusing on conserving his energy for later.

For he would need it, Drew would make damn sure of that!

Stuffing Punk's belongings into his bags, he packed them into his rental before retrieving his biggest prize of the night. Opening the trunk of his car, he carefully placed the fettered valet inside, stepping back to admire the breathtaking sight of the fear in Punk's wide hazel eyes. No shiny golden belt, no jewel-encrusted crown, no title, not even a Wrestlemania moment, could ever rival the status of the trophy he currently had in his possession, quivering in the confined space.

'A word of advise?' Drew said, tilting his head to the side. 'Enjoy the drive. Because once we reach our destination...' he sneered viciously, '..I'm going to make your life a living hell.'

He slammed the trunk shut.

'HAH!'

Drew shot awake, beaded in cold sweat. He glanced around him, recognising his bedroom back in his apartment. It was early morning and the first soft rays of light were drifting in through the drapes. Little dapples of spring sunshine danced onto the man beside him in bed. Jinder, his husband. The man he loved.

The Scot scrubbed a hand over his damp face. A dream. It was all just a fucked-up dream. His shoulders stooped when he spied the tented bed covers at his hips. He had an impressive case of morning wood.

But why? Because of CM fucking Punk?

Checking that Jinder was still asleep, Drew slipped out of bed and tip-toed into the bathroom. The first thing he did was splash his face in ice-cold water, try to cleanse away the rot from his brain. It was getting harder each day, like mould left untreated in the shower tray, it kept coming back worse and worse.

CM fucking Punk!

He didn't even like Punk. He didn't even like valets! Yes, he had been married to one once but that had been a marriage of convenience. Dominants weren't meant to love other dominants, least not without a hot piece of valet ass sandwiched between them, but Drew had never felt anything for the gentler sex. Not even for Curtis, who had been nothing but sweet and caring to them both, even though he knew there was no love involved in their set-up.

When Jinder was defeated by Ryback in the match that lost them Curtis, Drew wasn't upset. He'd went to his husband's side and held his cheeks in his large hands. 'I'm sorry,' Jinder had said, on the verge of tears.

In reply, Drew kissed him, in plain sight, in front of the WWE Universe, in front of the cameras, in front of everybody. 'We don't need him,' he replied. 'Now we can be us. Who we really are.'

They had paid dearly for their true selves; both of them were fired by the company. But times had changed and attitudes had softened and the pair had eventually been welcomed back with open arms. The atmosphere was certainly less tense with Hunter running things.

So why was Drew suddenly so... unsatisfied? And why was CM fucking Punk of all people harassing him in his sleep? Haunting his dreams. More than his dreams, he was afraid to admit. The past few weeks, he had never strayed far from the Scotsman's thoughts even when awake.

The cold water did nothing to cool the solidness between his legs so Drew stood over the toilet bowl. Grabbing hold of his massive shaft, he began to pump it with his fist, pulling his foreskin back over his leaking head as far as it would go then folding it back again. A groan sounded in his chest, almost like a tiger's growl. He thought of Jinder, thought of his big hands roughly pushing him down onto the sheets, kissing his neck, fingers grasping the hair of his chest.

The pumping hand quickened.

Those calloused fingers pinched tight around his nipples, teasing them up into stiff peaks before sucking them into a warm mouth. Drew screwed his eyes shut, imagining the soft tongue soothing his swollen skin. Envisioning the coolness of the metal ball flicking against his dusky-

Wait...

The head lifted and he saw his lover's face. It was not Jinder!

Paler skin, softer features. Eyes shining olive green in the hazy morning light. Thin lips broke out into a lop-sided grin, climbing up its right cheek to crinkle the crow's feet at the corner of its eye. The tongue, that had moments before been teasing Drew's nipple, flicked out, rubbing the ball stud against the metal ring pierced through its bottom lip.

Drew gave a strangled gasp, perfectly capturing Punk's face in his mind's eye, blurring his image from both past and present. His cock was screaming for more and he indulged it, pumping vigorously.

The succubus stared down at him from on high, an angel with burnt wings. A demon.

'Come on, Drew,' it scoffed, the tip of its pink tongue rubbing the lip ring back and forth. 'You know by now, I'm not a demon.' The pale skin deepened to a blood red, fire burning in its eyes as two boned horns grew out of its forehead. 'When pushed, I'm Satan himself.'

The harder Drew jerked himself to his climax, the tighter he grit his teeth, hoping against hope that no noise spilled from his lips for Jinder to hear.

He reached out his hands, wrapped them around the devil's throat. And squeezed. The pierced grin widened, hazel eyes rolling into the back of its skull as Drew pressed his thumbs in deeper. Gasping for air, the demon howled like a cat in heat-

'Urrrggggffff,' Drew came hard, strings of his seed spilling out of him into the toilet bowl. Post-climax exhaustion hit and he steadied his wobbly arms against the wall, pressing his flushed cheek onto the cool tile.

Knock, knock, knock. 'Hey Andrew? You ok in there?'

Drew straightened up with a grunt, quickly shoving himself back into his boxer shorts and flushing his sin away. One last glance into the mirror, he shook any thought of Punk from his mind and went to the door. Jinder looked half-asleep but worried. They'd been married over a decade and yet he still cared so much for the Scotsman.

It made Drew's heart ache to lie to him. 'Yeah, fine,' he said with a shrug. 'Just needed a pish.'

Jinder snorted a laugh. He knew he would and it did the job, breaking the tension immediately. 'Oh good,' his husband smiled, running a hand over his face 'I was worried it was the chowder I made last night.'

'Hah, no,' Drew flopped onto the bed and scrubbed his fists against his bleary eyes. Jinder snuggled into his side, wrapping his arm around him.

'What are you thinking about?' he asked out of the blue.

'How did you know I was thinking?'

'It's your eyebrows. They're like two drunk caterpillars when you've got something on your mind, and you get that faraway look in your eye.'

'Hmm, I'm that transparent, am I?' Drew didn't like that. He hoped that Jinder was the only one who could read his secrets so easily.

'So?'

Drew took in a deep breath. 'I was thinking about... Curtis.'

Jinder opened his eyes and frowned up at his husband. 'Do you miss him?'

'Do you?' Drew shot back.

The Canadian thought for a moment. 'Sometimes. I miss the mornings like this where we would all wake up together in each other's arms. I miss having somebody to complain about you to.' Drew's chest heaved with a chuckle. 'I do miss having a valet's touch around here - our place is such a dominant's pad.'

'It's not that bad.'

'No, but, it was nice, you know.' Jinder lifted his head in order to look directly into his husband's eyes. 'Why? Has somebody caught your eye?'

Drew felt a sharp pain in his chest. A pang of panic before spilling his darkest thoughts.

'No,' he said. 'Nobody. Except you.'

The pair kissed sweetly and Jinder snuggled back into his side, falling into a peaceful sleep. But Drew's mind was wracked with alarm.

He hadn't lied. Not technically. Hearing Jinder reminiscing about their time with Curtis had made Drew deeply uncomfortable. He didn't want that, he didn't want sweet, domestic fluff. Not when it came to him.

Drew didn't want to share.

He wanted Punk all to himself!

The Calaway Residence, Texas

'Urgh!' Phil grumped as he flopped onto the chair.

Mark glanced up at his husband over the top of his newspaper, noting his gym wear which confirmed his suspicions that the valet had gotten up early to do his physio therapy exercises. 'I made you some breakfast.'

Phil looked down into his bowl of oats and dried fruit. 'Why do you hate me so fucking much?'

'Would you rather I made you a stack of pancakes dripping with syrup?'

'YES!' Phil shot back, then scrunched up his nose. 'No. Not like I can work it off cause of this fucking arm.'

'You're getting there.'

'Not fast enough. Doc says it's still not one hundred percent.' He stared forlornly into his bowl. 'Just when I had finally worked all the baby fat off too.'

'I like you with a bit more meat,' Mark replied warmly. 'Especially your cute little gopher cheeks.'

'Well say goodbye to them,' Phil scoffed. 'Them, the stomach rolls, the muffin tops. It'll all be gone by the time I'm done with them.'

'Pity,' Mark noted, turning the page of his paper.

Shoving his oats around the bowl, Phil moped. 'Maybe I'll stop by the bakery later and stare in through the window. If I look pathetic enough then maybe one of the guys will let me lick one.' His eyes was suddenly drawn to the door leading to the hallway and a shadowy figure trying to sneak past. 'Hey! HEY YOU! Get your ass in here right now!'

With a theatrical roll of his eyes, a young valet aged around nine years walked in. 'What?' he huffed.

'Don't 'what' your mother,' Phil scolded his son. 'The hell are you wearing?'

'A shirt.'

'Well I can see it's a shirt. Where'd you get it? Was it from Uncle Sting?'

The boy looked at his mother like he was an idiot. 'It's yours.'

Phil paused. Looking again at the faded black T-shirt, he read the words CM Punk. Welcome to Chicago, motherfucker.

'Huh...' he hushed out, feeling a small lump in his throat. He smiled softly, his eyes crinkling with pride. 'Well ok then,' he grinned, ruffling the boy's hair. 'Go get 'em, Frankenstein.'

'You do know that Frankenstein was the name of the scientist?'

'Exactly! And you're the monster I created.' Before his son could protest, Phil planted a kiss on his forehead.

'Urgh, you're so embarrassing!' The boy wriggled out of his mother's grasp and grabbed up his skateboard.

'Love you, Frankie,' Mark called out to the boy as he left.

'Love you too, Dad.'

'Aww, he's a good kid,' Phil beamed.

'He's gonna get called up to the principal's office about that shirt,' Mark warned.

'Principal Mendoza doesn't talk to me anymore, you know that.'

Mark let out a ragged sigh. 'Fine,' he grunted, 'I'll swing by after my meeting later.'

'Thank you, honey!' Phil teased, grudgingly picking up his spoon to eat his breakfast as he swiped through his phone. Moments later, he let out a loud snort of laughter. 'Can't believe this, he's at it again.' Mark cocked an eyebrow at his husband. 'Drew McIntyre,' Phil explained without being asked. 'Guy can't post a single thing on social media without mentioning me. Must be desperate for traffic or something.'

Mark put down his paper and eyed his husband warily. 'Should I be concerned?'

Phil's brows shot up his forehead. 'About Drew McIntyre? Pfft! God no! He's harmless.' Mark looked unconvinced, however. 'We go way back, believe me. I know him and well... let's just say I'm not his type.' Getting the hint, Mark lifted his paper back up. 'Nah, I'm not worried about him. Seth on the other hand...'

'Still having problems?'

Letting out a long breath through his crooked nose, Phil pursed his lips irritably. 'Guy's still pissed with me, not really sure why. Think it has something to do about me leaving the way I did.'

Mark's furrowed his brows. 'He knows why you did, right?'

'Kinda,' the valet returned, his face turning sad and pensive as he finished off his bowl. 'About the same as everybody else does. I dunno... we weren't really speaking at the time after all that shit went down with Dean and Roman. Maybe that's why he's pissed, or maybe it's because Dean (or Jon, whatever he's calling himself these days) and I had our little falling out at AEW.'

'He was hardly innocent in that fiasco either,' Mark pointed out, flatly, making Phil smile; his husband liked to play the tough guy but he always had the valet's back.

'Yeah, well, neither was I,' Phil said, grabbing up his husband's plate and cutlery to take to the sink. 'You know, Dean was the only guy back then who tried to help me out. He really put his neck on the line for me. And look how I repaid him. Can't blame Seth really, if he only knew what really happened, how bad it got...'

Phil went quiet.

Mark looked up and found his husband staring into the middle of the table, as if lost in a trance. It was then that he spotted his inked fist wrapped tightly around his discarded fork, blood dripping from where he was squeezing the prongs into his palm.

Throwing his paper down, Mark reached across the table, placing his large hand over his husband's quivering digits. Phil flinched at the touch, his frightened eyes finding Mark's soft greens.

'Phil, look at me,' Mark said, his voice gentle but firm. 'You're ok, you're here with me.'

'I'm ok,' the valet repeated. 'I'm here with you.'

'You're here with me.'

'I'm here with you.'

'I need you to breathe, ok? In.'

'In.'

'Out'

'Out.'

They continued this pattern until Phil's breathing steadied. Shaking his head, he flickered back to his surroundings, finding his husband's concerned face. 'I'm good,' he said at last. 'I'm ok.' Slowly, tentatively, Mark let go. 'Shit, haven't had one of those for a while.'

His husband watched him silently. 'You know, if it's too much for you, Phil, going back to WWE, you don't have to-'

'It's not,' the tattooed valet assured his husband. 'It's really not. It... feels different there now. Now that they're gone. I dunno how to explain, it's just... different. And anyway-' Punk shook out his neck and shoulders, hardened his features. 'I've got to go back. I've got something to prove. It's just like it was with Cody, I have unfinished business there.'

Mark only nodded, letting his husband get his thoughts out. Listening closely.

'I'm sick of holding on to all this... shame! The way people look at me, the way they look at Frankie. I fucking love my kid and I'm sick of people using him against me all the time, like he's some kind of, I dunno, punishment for what happened to me. He deserves better than that. We both deserve better than that.'

'I understand,' Mark said solemnly.

'And if I don't go back? Then he wins. Again! It's just yet another thing that he took away from me. And I'm fucking sick of him controlling my life.'

Mark lowered his head, unable to hide his guilt. 'I understand,' he said again, 'and you know that I'm here for you, no matter what. If you need to do this, then I'll support you but if it gets to be too much and you want to leave, I'll support that too.'

'I know,' Phil smiled softly, reaching over to place his hand over Mark's, caressing the large knuckles with his thumb. 'I love you.'

'I love you too. So much. You have no idea.'

'Oh, I do, believe me,' Phil teased.

'And you promise me, at the first sign of trouble-'

'There won't be any trouble.'

'Phil...'

The valet sighed. He couldn't deny that he had a long storied history of getting on the wrong side of the wrong types of people. But that was back then, when he was young and reckless. Well... more reckless. He was also prettier back then. These days there were too many wrinkles on his face and greys in his beard, the skin hung looser on his frame and his C-section scar was clear across his lower belly. He loved that scar, it was his favourite one of them all, for it gave him his precious son, but a lot of dominants looked at it with disgust. Like he was spoilt goods, well passed its sell-by date.

Not that he gave a single shit. For once in his life, he didn't have to worry about dominants. He could finally allow himself to relax, finally allow himself to be happy. He was fulfilled with his home life and now, he wanted that same satisfaction with his wrestling career, which had been stopped all too abruptly, both when he left WWE and at AEW.

It was time for him to finally carve out the legacy he was destined for.

* * *

It was obvious that the manager recognised Drew by the way he lavished him with a full escorted tour of the self-storage lot. Drew had rejected the first three options, finding them too close to the centre. Made sense that most people preferred the units on the inside - it was more secure there - but Drew wanted one as far away from prying eyes (and ears) as possible.

'Ah, here it is,' the manager said, inputting the code on the number pad. Drew liked the look of this one. On a corner, right at the edge. Beyond the chain link fence there was nothing but empty wasteland for several miles. The door slid up and the manager held out his arm for Drew to go inside. The Scotsman scanned the interior of the storage unit, his imagination hard at work.

It needed some work done. Sound-proofing mainly. There was a lot of wall space to cover to ensure that not even the smallest peep escaped to the outside and alerted a suspicious passer-by. He would have Punk gagged most of the time, but considering the activities he had planned for the pair of them, it seemed a shame to not be able to hear him. To hear those delightful moans and whimpers and cries. To hear him pleading for Drew to stop before howling for more.

Walking around the unit, he looked for the best places he could install either a bar or a ring into the wall to attach chains that he could tether to Punk's wrists or ankles. Perhaps, some kind of dog collar. Aye, leash the bastard like the dog he is. He'd probably like that. Maybe he could affix a hook to the ceiling that he could use to dangle the little shit when he misbehaved.

Everything else was easy enough to get. A mattress, a bucket. They'd be the only home comforts Punk would be allowed. Drew could envision it so perfectly. Imagining the tattooed valet huddled against the wall, stripped completely bare, his pale skin filthy with grime. Chains softly clinking as he shivered with the cold. If he pleased his dominant, then he may earn himself a blanket to keep himself warm.

But Drew knew it would take a long, sustained effort to tame the wayward valet. He was notoriously fiery, rebellious and stubborn. Even nearing middle-age, he had a short-fuse, as his time at AEW proved, and he wasn't afraid to lash out.

But he already had a plan in mind. Everybody, be they dominant or valet, had a breaking point, and Drew was determined to find Punk's. He'd start by starving him, wear him down physically. He'd withhold water from him too, and if he swallowed some of his pride and submitted to his new master, Drew would satiate him. But only by his own hand. Drew would hold the water bottle for Punk to suckle from, spoon feed him one bite at a time, like a babe, until he learnt who held his very life in his hands, who was responsible for his welfare and imprinted on him as his one true dominant.

And when Drew had finally exorcised the demon from the man, he would be left with a flawless angel, the vision of perfection.

'So what do you think?'

The manager's voice snapped Drew from his dark thoughts. He wobbled for the briefest of moments, doubting himself and his cruel intentions...

... then sharply shook them off.

'I'll take it,' he said.

#Thlayli-writes #valetverse au #cm punk #drew mcintyre #the undertaker #jinder mahal #punkintyre #underpunk #wrestling fanfiction #wwe fan fiction #request fic #for anon #drewpunk

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