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nerdieforpedro · 9 months ago

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😆😆😆 What’s hilarious is that I never connected that my update has the same title as one of the best parts of SNL. I mean I would cause havoc and be totally unfocused. I wouldn’t last 2 days on that set from laughing too much and saying things you can’t say on TV. 📺

Dieter is entitled to his belly that we can rub and he can rub while he rehearses his lines or thinks about painting. 🖼️

I’m glad you like my updates. ❤️

Weekend Update 02/25/2024

Nerdie! You saw it right! He won! *hugs tightly*

Yes he did! 🥰 We're all so happy for him! Finally!

We're also buzzing about how he looks like he's on the cover of a romance novel. Maybe on a ranch, maybe in the 1800's. It's a pretty versatile look. He likes his deep V's....

As we all should. Also, I'm taking notes on that. *scribbles*

Anything new besides, well clearly pirate adventures?

Pirates have scurvy and Pedro is well nourished so none of that. Other ideas for his characters. Ezra and Pero might have scurvy though. I did manage to write some this week. It's been busy. 👀 Ugh...real life stuff. Nothing major. Just needs to be done.

Nerdie's fics:

Guiding Light (Ezra one shot - I was chatting with @lady-bess and had the idea for this. I always have Ezra in some crime. 😎)

Lunch is happening right? (Part two of my summer romance Javi G fic. Not sure how many parts.)

He told me his name (Din Djarin x plus size female reader) I wrote it after reading a new Din fic by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin (will be listed below. I'd still call it moody because despite writing, I still have trouble with my vocabulary. 🤣 It is pretty though. I'm working on a follow-up since people asked 👀)

Can't win carino (Javi G one shot - for @i-own-loki because she gave me the idea and the moodboard so I ran with it.)

The Man Next Door (Jake Lockley one shot for @megamindsecretlair because she kinda asked, more like I asked her what she wanted in it. She asked for action and smut. I might try more action in fics later.)

Get a room you two and BONE (Part two of my Tim Rockford comedy series which now has romance? I binged too much B99, watched a bit of Castle and a few episodes of Kojak with my mom. The insanity will only increase with part three but maybe there might be some growth between Tim and Doc? Or a hippo.)

Nerdie I thought you said you were busy....that's six fics...

I was and some of them I had been working on for a while. I also had some insomnia (that lead to parts two and three of the Tim Rockford fic). Anyway, on to the main event! 😘

Nerdie's fic recommendations! or things I read this week. 😄

14 x kisses by @trulybetty (Jack Daniels x reader) Part of her 29 days of valentines for February.

Sorgan Girls Are Easy - Solo Din Djarin by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin (the fic that inspired my Din - her Din has 100% more smut)

Half of you - chapter 3 by @foxilayde (Santiago Garcia x fem. reader) Slow burn series - love it and trying to read it slowly to savor it.

Falling for you by @toomanystoriessolittletime (Javi Pena x fem reader) A bittersweet read that had me wonder what was next but I was hopeful.

Sunday Naps by @javierpena-inatacvest (Frankie Morales x fem reader) More proof that cuddling with Frankie leads to wonderful things.

Poe Dameron falling in love with his shy best friend (GN reader) by @i-belong-to-the-stars What one hopes for if you're shy and you're in love with those curls...er Poe. 🫣

Mystery Strain by @rebel-held (Dieter Bravo x GN reader) All kinks are valid and who doesn't love Dieter with a belly? 😘

Bulletproof by @laurfilijames (Jax Teller x fem reader) She wrote poetic porn with feelings. I was overcome, titllated and confused.

A girl walks into a bookshop by @oonajaeadira (Ezra x fem reader) Soft Ezra with a bookshop, yes please! 😄

Beneath the mask by @saradika (Din Djarin x fem reader) A medieval knight Din...so where does one pick up the velvet dress?

Loneliness by @sirowsky (Pero Tovar x GN reader) Pondering Pero in your local Park? Highly recommended for Valentine's Day.

15 x cashmere by @trulybetty (Joel Miller x GN reader) What thread count was it that encouraged Joel to hop in bed in such a state? For my personal file. 👀

He sees you by @maggiemayhemnj (Joel Miller x reader) This writer will tell you she just loves words. I would argue that the words love her in a unique way that makes you see the things. 💜

16 x dance by @trulybetty (Tim Rockford x reader) I pictured him dancing with the reader in his trench coat. @secretelephanttattoo (El) is to the holsters as I am to the trench coat. 🤣 In my mind.

Quiet Moments Collection by @secretelephanttattoo (various Pedro characters x reader) It’s the small instances that you think don’t matter, that are the most meaningful.

Plus One by @always-andromeda (Frankie Morales x fem reader) Always a fan of two idiots in love, even with their spat.

A Strange Fate by @youandmeand5bucks (Silva x fem reader) Two people who came together because of life circumtances. Are they really satisfied?

A Beskar Valentine by @firstofficerwiggles (Din Djarin x female reader) Awesome username, it makes me giggle. Din will be ten steps ahead and still fifteen behind when it comes to matters of the heart. My guy is an overthinking champion.

Seven by @lokischocolatefountain (Javier Pena x reader) A simple discussion about children leads Javier to a drastic solution.

To be Explored Later by @legendary-pink-dot (Frankie Morales x fem reader x Santiago Garcia) aka Ms. Curls if ya nasty! 😘 Somehow I missed the gem of a sandwich. How the reader was able to think about anything is beyond me.

Red Light Glow by @missredherring (Lucian Flores x fem reader) This man has me and @rhoorl keeping track of his silk shirt and gold chain. We would accept his call. The guilt would go away too quickly if we felt it at all. 😌

Incarnadine by @iamskyereads (Pero Tovar x fem reader) This Pero has me swoon with his care toward the reader, his love of baths (I just want him to soak and relax - he's been earning coin!), and his word choice. This is another person that words appear to favor. 💜

Not like I fangirled over these writers this week or anything 👀

What on the docket for this week Nerdie?

Part three of the Javi G summer romance

Maybe...Roc & Doc part three I don't like sitting on finished parts but then I whine about having no motivation for the next part. 👀 I make no sense.

March is toward the end of the week so my March Spring Prompts will start! I scheduled the first six days I think. I got anxious about getting behind (which isn't the point of doing them but anxiety doesn't care) and did some in advance. I like how they're coming along and that they're short. Unlike this update. 🤣 They won't have summaries, but will have warnings, tags and notes.

And because I hear series and I think "I should start another one!" I decided to write an Ezra series. How did I happen upon our favorites prospector/scoundrel/reluctant father figure? I've been reading works by @morallyinept @maggiemayhemnj and @magpiepills

Ezra intimidated me because of his language, but actually, I think I'd get along with him because he puts on a persona with a great deal of performance. It's the audience's job to figure out if you're serious or not. Or at least that's how I approached him. 🤨 This could go badly. I stuck him on the bayou with an air boat and I want him to cook gumbo. *full delusional achievement unlocked*

Special shout-outs to @connectioneverywhere and @soft-girl-musings for sending me lovely asks this week.

Also to @inept-the-magnificent who called Tim Rockford her sidepiece and I am still very tickled. 🤣

This update was long 🤗 Hehe

Love Nerdie ❤️

#the writer who enjoys Dieter’s cute belly #weekend update #nerdie's update #dieter bravo #pedro pascal characters #chubby!dieter #internet friend #thank you!#💜#nerdie #fanfiction

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suzdin · 11 months ago

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Washed Up Has-Been: a Dieter Bravo one shot

Dieter Bravo x F!Plus Size!Reader

Warnings: soft!Dieter, sweet!Dieter, smut, angst, bodily insecurities, reader is plus sized but no other physical attributes are described, Dieter is a little chubby as well, mentions of drugs and alcohol, oral (m receiving), mention of sex toys, fluff? (gasp!), did I forget anything? I know next to nothing about the film industry, don’t judge me :(

Word Count: 2,800

Enjoy and feel free to reblog and comment if you wish! 💜🙂

——

Dieter Bravo had not been the same since Cliff Beasts 6.

What did they call it? Losing your spark? Your mojo? Your moxy? Whatever it was called, he’d lost it, along with his marbles… if he ever had any to begin with, and he was sure many would agree he hadn’t.

The reviews were bad, abhorrent, really. ‘Dieter Bravo as Gio Ricci baffling’, ‘Bravo couldn’t act his way out of a paper bag’, ‘I can’t believe this man has an Oscar’, ‘Did he get his Italian accent at an Olive Garden?’, on and on the critics wailed and lambasted.

He’d had a mental break shortly after the premier, firing everyone he could in his vicinity — his publicist, his hair stylist and manicurist, hell, even his agent of twenty five years. He’d hired a new one, of course, a potential script FedExed to his door that morning, fist curled and white knuckled in anger around the thick stack of papers as he perched himself like a sentient gargoyle on his couch, in the tattered clothes he’d been wearing for nearly a week.

A dad. They wanted him to play a fucking dad, some sort of buddy comedy family film opposite Dwayne Johnson, it might be a good move for your career, buddy, his agent had explained. But seriously, him? Hollywood heart throb Dieter Bravo, reduced to playing someone’s bumbling father, opposite THE FUCKING ROCK?

He couldn’t believe it.

He had put on some weight since his last film, sure, but that was no reason or excuse to allow himself to be typecasted as a dad.

Or was it the ever persistent graying in his hair and beard? The laugh lines? The crow’s feet?

‘Dieter Bravo is a washed up has-been’ the internet screamed at him daily, leading him to drown himself in an endless stream of drugs and alcohol…more so than he was already doing, anyway.

He was barely a functioning person. A husk of his former self, he could no longer get it up, unsure whether to blame the drugs or his steadily fleeting mental health, and even putting brush to canvas felt more like a chore than an escape nowadays. He’d become a hermit in his own home, the ghastly, aging 1970s mid-century horror he resided in the Hollywood Hills, that he thought was amazing when he originally bought it a decade ago.

Well, much like him, older things fall apart, and the house was a piece of shit, which was apt.

He had hired you as his assistant and he was so vague as to what that entailed that you were sort of a jack of all trades as far as helping was concerned, acting as his maid, his cook, the middle man to screen his calls, his emails, so on and so forth. Hell, you even took care of the large python he’d bought ‘because it looked cool’, that he was now too scared to touch, himself.

You did it all, and although he never properly expressed as much, he was more grateful for you than he let on.

He always found you pretty, too. Beautiful, even, and not in the fake way he’d grown used to, living in Hollywood. You were kind, sweet, and uncorrupted by a crueler world, always happy and eager to assist him with whatever he needed.

And if he was being honest with himself, the thought of you sheathed around his cock was the only thing that could even get him half hard anymore.

When you arrive for the day, you find him on his couch, glowering at what you can only assume is another bad script, graying hair disheveled and curling away from his skull, teeth gritted in disdain. A look you had come to recognize and were more than familiar with.

“Let me take that to the garbage for you,” you offer, as you normally do in these situations, stepping forward to reach for the offending script.

His eyes clock the way your breasts sway when you walk, the roundness of your belly, the plushness of your arms. He can’t help but stare; he wants to bury himself in you and stay there forever.

He swallows, moving the script away from your extended hand and tucking it behind a cushion, distracted by your body.

“No — no, it’s okay,” he replies and his voice feels like gravel in his throat, realizing he hasn’t spoken all day until now.

Although the script sucks and he doesn’t want to do it, he needs the money. “Thanks.”

You notice his eyes on you and you sit, leaving about a foot of space between you to maintain a modicum of professionalism, observing the sadness behind his dark brown eyes and knowing this has been the norm for several months now but still hating it for what it is.

“What’s on the docket for today?” you ask him and he shrugs, unhelpfully, his lips pulled into a frown, shadows staining the lines of his face. You haven’t seen him this bad in a while.

“I can… make you some hot tea?” you ask, looking down at the schedule in your lap, of which nothing is jotted down for the day.

He shakes his head, carding a hand through his hair. “No. I’m out of tea.”

You chew your lip. “Okay… well, then I guess I’m running to the store today. I have a list already, but can you think of anything else?”

Once again, he shakes his head. “No. I’ll just order it or something.”

You frown and tuck the schedule away, crossing your legs and turning to face him, contemplative.

“Then what do you want me to do today? You’re paying me to be here,” you note. “Unless you’d rather I go home.”

“No!” he damn near shouts, making you jump, and he immediately regrets his lack of impulse control. His gaze traverses your subtle cleavage and you clear your throat, heat warming your skin. “Sorry, it’s just… I don’t want to be alone right now. Can we just hang out?” he queries.

“Dieter, are you okay?” you question and he shakes his head in response.

“No.” A single word that says so much more than that. It pulls at your heart strings, seeing him like this. “I — I’m a nobody.”

“You aren’t a nobody, you’re Oscar winner Dieter fucking Bravo,” you counter, and he snorts, picking at some dry skin on his ankle.

“Yeah, Dieter fucking Bravo, the aging has-been who can’t act his way out of a paper bag,” he snorts.

“If you keep talking like that, I’m going to take away your internet access so you can’t read all the mean tweets about yourself,” you threaten.

“You wouldn’t.”

“One call to your financial advisor and I would and could,” you retort and Dieter scoffs, trying to remember if he’d fired him yet or not.

You cross your arms and flop back against the worn and flattened couch cushions, eyeing him smugly.

The movement pushes your chest up and out, his gaze on you once again and he isn’t subtle about it this time. You clear your throat and stir, staring back at his soft, plush lips.

“Dieter—“

“Come here,” he murmurs quietly and the spontaneity of it catches you off guard, your jaw hanging agape in disbelief and confusion.

“…What?”

It had been months since anyone had touched him, had wanted to touch him, and now, as he stares at your body and smells your light vanilla perfume, after the shitty week he’s had, he needs to be touched, even if only briefly.

“Come… here,” he repeats, more dogged than before, and in spite of yourself, despite how unprofessional it is, you find yourself scooting forward.

He grabs your hips when you’re within reach and drags you the rest of the way, pulling the cushion partially off the couch in the process, a small yelp of surprise escaping your lungs as he softly grips your face to bring his lips to yours.

They’re plush, dry, lightly chapped and he tastes a little like whiskey and weed, but you don’t really mind, his coarse, wiry mustache scratching and tickling against your nose.

Suddenly, with a soft groan in the back of his throat, his hand is under your shirt, cupping your breast, and you break the kiss, looking down to where his arm disappears beneath the fabric, shock settling over your features.

“Dee… are you… are you sure?” you ask. You don’t exactly look like the people Dieter had been confirmed dating in the past, and you feel a wave of trepidation, your self conscious nature bubbling to the surface. You’ve always felt Dieter Bravo was more than a little out of your league.

Not that you’re dating him, but, you know.

“I wouldn’t be doing this if I wasn’t sure,” he tuts and kisses you again, rougher this time, palming your breast, making your cunt throb.

He groans. You’re so good to him, always taking such good care of him, and you feel exactly the way he thought you would, warm and luscious and supple, his dick already fighting with the seam of his pajama pants, the first time in weeks.

And you’ve wanted this, too, as long as you’ve worked for him, never confessing your feelings for fear of losing your job. You never imagined Dieter fucking Bravo would feel the same way about you.

You know Dee needs this, you need this, and you want to make him feel good.

You brush a hand over his hardening cock and he damn near bucks himself straight off the couch with a grunt and a sharply uttered, “Fuck” against your lips. You grin into his mouth at how much composure he’s already lost from so few touches.

You pull away after a moment and scoot off the couch, sinking onto your knees in front of him, nestling yourself between his broad thighs.

He watches you, rigid cock tremoring in his pants at the sight, the outline of it clearly visible and straining against the fabric. “You… you don’t have to…” His voice is thick, haggard.

“Let me take care of you, Dee,” you mewl as you nuzzle your face against the squishy paunch of his stomach, lifting his shirt to plant small, reverent kisses in a circle around his belly button. He giggles and flinches at the contact.

“Sorry, sorry — ticklish,” he explains and you smile, placing a few more kisses there, more delicate than the ones that preceded them, trailing a line from his navel to the thick swathe of hair leading to his crotch.

Despite the pounds he’s put on recently, he doesn’t feel at all uncomfortable in front of you, eyes darkening as he drinks you in visually, lips tight and parted, breaths growing deeper in the barrel of his chest.

You look up and from your current perspective, he’s all wild haired and broad shouldered, panting, your cunt clenching with desire as you eye him with a wry grin.

You smooth his shirt down over his belly and move your face to the hard bulge below, nosing the bulk of it through the fabric and inhaling his natural scent, thick and musky and masculine in your nostrils. You both groan in unison.

“Dear god,” he grunts, “I feel like I’m about to— aaaaugh— fucking bust already.”

“Save it for my mouth, at least,” you snip and his head rolls back against the cushion at your words, the one with the sag in the middle where his neck always rests, eyes sliding shut.

“You’re so good for me,” he pants softly, already so close to falling apart, “I take you for granted and I’m sorry.”

“Dieter, shh.” You find the stretchy waistband of his striped trousers and drag them down his hips, not all surprised to see he’s gone commando, cock springing free from the cage of fabric, uncut and dribbling against the drag of soft cotton. He’s girthy, and you’ve never seen one intact in the flesh before — literally — a small puff of air escaping your lips, taking in the sight of him for a few seconds before coming to your senses.

“Is everything alr—“ he starts to ask, cutting himself off when you unexpectedly cup his heavy balls in your palm and lick a slow stripe up his length with the flat of your tongue, his hips quivering and bucking involuntarily. “Shit—“

You grin, humming satisfactorily to yourself and continue to tease him, his hands finding your hair, fingers twisting at the roots as the rings he insists on wearing get caught in the strands, pulling ever so slightly. You moan.

You feel incredible, your tongue working his most sensitive areas, and he’s having a hard time holding it together, torso heaving above you, tiny whimpers departing his lips, and he hasn’t even entered your mouth yet.

You sense how much trouble he’s having at keeping himself in check, so you back off a touch to give him a momentary reprieve, shifting to kiss along the meat of his inner thighs, nipping at the tiny elephant tattoos etched into his skin as you do so.

He cups one hand on the back of your neck, watching you through half-lidded eyes, your lips like pure velvet and heaven.

He’s already forgotten about the shitty script tucked into the couch, about the bad reviews and the critics with their cruel, baseless quips. Faded away to nothingness, akin to what he experiences when he’s completely blitzed, negative thoughts dissolving to the back of his mind to be discarded, and for now, for the moment, the only thing that matters is you, your beauty, and how well you take care of him.

After what seems like an eternity of small, worshipping, teasing touches to the insides of his thighs and the rim of his belly, your lips return to his cock, lapping at the precum that’s beaded up at the slit before taking him into your mouth, hand fisted at the base as you work him into your throat.

He’s impervious at this point to keep his hips flush against the couch, shuddering into your mouth as you take him and pushing further down your throat, not entirely on purpose, moaning as the wet heat of your mouth engulfs him.

“Wanna— fuck your pussy next time— with a vibrating plug in your ass,” he grunts, hardly able to string a single cohesive thought together, making your cunt throb and slick leak into the cradle of your panties.

Dieter wasn’t one to shy away from toys, and in fact had an entire drawer full of them, which you had accidentally stumbled upon one day when putting away some of his clothes; everything from butt plugs to cock rings to flesh lights with multiple attachments and bondage gear.

You steady his hips with your hands and hold him in place as best you can, difficult with how much stronger he is than you, jaw stretching to fit him, the musky tang of him flooding your tastebuds.

You steadily rock your head up and down his length, taking him all the way to the back of your throat, and you can feel the veins running the length of his shaft pulsating against your tongue, feel the way his balls tighten as he edges ever closer to the precipice.

He’s wanted you, needed you, for so long, that he can’t contain himself much longer. His hips begin to stutter and you feel his body growing taut, hear his breaths growing shallow and haggard, fingers curling against your scalp.

“I’m… I’m gonna… fucking cum,” he grunts deep in his chest. That’s all the warning he allows before his hips stall and he lets out a visceral growl of pleasure, spilling a hot and heavy load across your tongue, some of it seeping out at the edges and dribbling down his thighs until you’re able to steady yourself.

You hold him in your mouth until you feel the very last drop hit the back of your throat, slowly pulling off only when you feel him starting to go soft.

“You should really clean up this awful mess you’ve made,” Dieter taunts when you sit back to catch your breath, watching the cocktail of spend and saliva slide down his tan skin.

You grin and tip your head forward to obediently lap at the escaped fluids. He groans as he savors the delicious sight of you, affectionately brushing his fingers through your hair as you do so.

After a moment, you rise from the ground, your knees cracking from the exertion, joining him on the couch as he tugs his pajama bottoms back up his hips.

He snakes an arm around the small of your back and kisses you, deep and full, moaning when he tastes remnants of himself on your tongue.

He grins against your lips and then rises, yanking you off the couch and giggling along with you when you pass him a perplexed look.

“Where are we going now?” you ask, pleased to see him happy and relaxed again after all this time, to actually see him smiling.

“You took care of me, so I’m going to take care of you. You’re familiar with my special drawer, aren’t you?”

—

FIN. xx

#pedro pascal #writing #fanfic #smut #author #romance #pedro fanfic #dieter bravo #dieter bravo the bubble #the bubble

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drewharrisonwriter · 3 months ago

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Lifeline - Ch. 1: How It Used to Be

Pairings: Dieter Bravo x Female Reader, referred to as “Honey”

Series Summary: After basically being dropped and rejected by every PR agency in Hollywood for being such a huge liability, Dieter Bravo must work on resetting his public image in the most unexpected ways.

Author's Notes: I have been working on this fic on and off for the past year, and this story is a little personal to me. Yes, I am trauma dumping in some scenes lol but I also want to say that there will be so many unrealistic things about Hollywood, actors, and PR/Marketing agencies here, to which I apologize.

Warnings: Angst, a little drama, lots of flashbacks. More warnings to come as the story progresses.

Read this on AO3 | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

He used to tell it like it was a scene out of an old movie—one of those moments that felt too perfect to be real. It was his mother’s second wedding, small and intimate, set against the backdrop of a Hawaiian-themed afternoon that felt worlds away from the life he’d been trying to build in Los Angeles. He had just flown back in that morning, still half-asleep and nursing the familiar sting of another failed audition. At thirty, he was barely scraping by, a struggling actor on the outskirts of a dream he couldn’t quite reach, but today wasn’t about him.

Dieter had stepped into the backyard, the one he’d known since he was a kid, and there she was—Honey. Twenty-one now, far away from the chubby teenager he remembered, dressed in a red dress that clung to her in all the right ways, standing at the far end of the room with a glass of brandy in her hand. The guests milled around, voices mingling with the soft strum of a ukulele, but all Dieter could see was her. He remembered how she smiled, that kind of smile that could light up a whole damn room, the way she looked when she thought no one was watching. She didn’t seem to belong there, not really—like she was too much for this small-town backyard wedding, too much for the quiet life he was still tangled in.

He’d always say it was like everything else went blurry, fading into the background as he watched her from across the room. Time slowed, like in the movies, and it was just him and Honey, her red dress vivid against the lush green of his mother’s backyard. He didn’t know how long he stood there, rooted to the spot, just staring at her, but it felt like something clicked in that moment. Like he was seeing the leading lady of a story he never knew he was meant to be a part of.

Months later, when they were tangled up in sheets, drifting off to sleep in his old apartment, he’d whisper in her ear the day he found her. About the first time he saw her, how she looked in that dress, how the sun caught in her hair and made everything feel warm and bright, just for a second. And Honey would smile and love it, because she always loved him, she tells him—she’d close her eyes, let out a soft laugh, and he’d tell her how he’d walked in, still in that wrinkled white shirt from the plane, and how the rest of the room disappeared as she came into view. She’d smile and slowly run a finger down the slope of his nose as he spoke, like she could see it all happening again, and for those moments, Dieter could pretend it was enough to hold on to.

Now, though, Dieter couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever find another moment like that. Or worse—if he already had, and that was it for him. He wondered if he’d feel that rush again, that movie magic. And if he did, would it feel like the first time he’d seen Honey in that damn red dress? Would he tell the story the same way, with the same stupid grin on his face, and pretend it was something new?

God, he hoped not. Because no matter how hard he tried, Dieter couldn’t let go of that first time and he doesn’t seem to want to let go of it all. The way she made him feel like maybe he was someone worth seeing, someone worth noticing in a sea of people who’d never quite looked at him that way before. Even now, when the spotlight was finally his, when he’d gotten everything he thought he wanted, Dieter knew that nothing would ever quite measure up to the way she’d looked at him that day. Honey, the girl in the red dress, the one who saw him before anyone else ever did.

He hated that he couldn’t rewrite that scene, couldn’t replace it no matter how many times he tried. And as much as he wanted to move on, to find something and someone else that felt just as good, Dieter knew that part of him would always be standing in that backyard, watching her smile, wishing he could step into that frame now and relive it all over again.

–

Dieter sprawled across the leather couch in his spacious Sherman Oaks home, staring at the ceiling as the late morning sun streamed through the oversized windows. The house was too big for one person, filled with all the trappings of success: expensive art on the walls, designer furniture he barely noticed, and a backyard pool that sparkled under the California sun. It was the kind of place meant for a family—big, open spaces perfect for kids, a kitchen begging for Sunday breakfasts, and bedrooms waiting to be filled. But it was just Dieter, alone, scrolling through his phone in an old green bathrobe that had seen better days, a coffee-stained t-shirt, and a pair of mismatched Crocs.

His thumb moved aimlessly over the screen, flipping through the usual parade of celebrity posts, promotions, and glamorous snapshots that made up his feed. His own account was filled with a mix of movie promotions, behind-the-scenes selfies, and the occasional controversial photo of him in his latest ridiculous outfit—a ratty fur coat or nothing at all, surrounded by people he’d barely remember the next day. Lately, it seemed like every headline had his name attached to some new scandal: the models, actors, and random flings who drifted in and out of his life like a revolving door, both men and women, sometimes all at once. It was the kind of attention he used to crave, but now it just felt empty.

Then, as if the universe was playing some cruel joke, his thumb froze on a picture that pulled him out of his haze. It was Honey.

She was standing in front of the Griffith Observatory, LA sprawling in soft, golden hues behind her. She was dressed simply, not in red but in a vibrant green dress that reminded him of summer, carefree and effortless. Honey’s smile was wide, the kind of smile that lit up her whole face, and she looked like she belonged there, even though she’d always been a small-town girl at heart. The caption was short, just an emoji and “LA for the weekend!” but to Dieter, it was like a punch to the gut.

She was here. In his city. And she looked happy.

He couldn’t help but tap on her profile, scrolling back through her recent posts. There were pictures of her at events, hanging out with friends he didn’t recognize, and singing at small, intimate bars where the lights were dim and the crowd was close. Honey was always singing—it was her secret dream, something she’d only ever joked about back when they were together, curled up on his old porch. She’d never taken it seriously, but now it seemed like she was finally letting herself have that spotlight, even if it was just a small one.

His scrolling slowed when he noticed something new—a link to another account tagged in her bio: “@TraceMarketing.” Dieter tapped it, curiosity gnawing at him. It was a business page, polished and professional, showcasing her new venture: a boutique digital marketing and PR business. Posts highlighted her clients’ successes, photos of Honey at meetings, and little motivational quotes sprinkled between updates. It looked like she’d traded her teaching job for something entirely different, something bigger. The realization hit him: Honey had moved on from more than just their old life. She’d moved on from the safe, predictable path she’d once clung to, and Dieter was suddenly painfully aware of how much time had passed, how much had changed.

As he scrolled through her business page, flashes of old conversations flickered in his mind.

* flashback *

It was a warm summer evening, the kind where the sun hung low in the sky, casting everything in a golden glow. Dieter was sitting on his porch steps, strumming his beat-up guitar, his fingers lazily picking out the chords to “Let It Be Me.” Honey was sitting next to him, leaning against the railing, her eyes half-closed as she hummed along.

“You know,” she said, opening her eyes and looking at him with a playful smile, “you could be famous one day. I can see it now—Dieter Bravo, Hollywood’s leading man. You’d have to beat the girls off with a stick.”

Dieter laughed, shaking his head. “I’d settle for landing a decent role in a local commercial at this point. Maybe a toothpaste ad,” he joked, strumming the next chord. “And what about you, huh? You’ve got a voice that could fill stadiums. You ever think about making it big?”

Honey rolled her eyes, nudging him with her shoulder. “Yeah, sure. I’ll just quit my job, move to LA, and become the next pop sensation. I’m sure the kids in my class would love that. ‘Miss Honey’s off chasing her wild dreams,’” she mimicked, laughing softly. “No, I think I’ll stick to singing for you and the cats that wander by.”

Dieter looked at her, his smile fading into something softer, more serious. “You could do it, you know. You could do anything.”

She shrugged, but there was a wistful look in her eyes, She poked at his chest and he chuckled.

“Maybe. But some things are better left as dreams for some people, unlike you, Mr. Bravo. You are meant to make it big.” She tells him and he shakes his head, smiling like he doesn’t believe her and part of him really doesn’t.

* end of flashback *

Back in the present, Dieter shook his head, pulling himself from the memory. Honey had changed. She was no longer just the sweet schoolteacher from their hometown; she’d built something for herself. He wondered what had finally pushed her to leave, to take that leap she’d always laughed off. He wondered if she’d found what she was looking for, or if she was still chasing that dream, one client at a time.

His thoughts drifted back to the way Honey used to be with him—gentle, caring, and always ready with a home-cooked meal after a long, exhausting day. Back when he was still trying to find his footing as an actor, driving hours to perform in a rundown theater a few towns over, she’d always be there when he got home. She’d greet him at the door, the smell of something warm and comforting drifting from the kitchen. Honey was his sanctuary, the one constant in a life that felt like it was always on the edge of falling apart.

* flashback *

Dieter dragged himself through the front door, dropping his worn-out bag by the entrance. His feet ached from hours of standing on stage, and his mind was still buzzing with lines, cues, and the lingering sting of a director’s harsh critique. He felt like a failure, but then he caught the scent of garlic and herbs, and the tension in his shoulders eased just a little.

Honey popped her head out of the kitchen, her apron dusted with flour. “You’re home! I made your favorite—lasagna and garlic bread. Thought you could use a little comfort food.”

Dieter managed a tired smile, his heart swelling at the sight of her. “You’re the best, you know that?”

She grinned, wiping her hands on a towel as she crossed the room to hug him. “I know. And you’re not too bad yourself. Go sit, dinner’s almost ready.”

They ate on the couch, Honey curled up beside him, her feet tucked under his thigh. They talked about his day, her students, and all the little things that made up their world. When he’d vent about his struggles—the endless auditions, the rejection, the feeling that he was running out of time—she’d just listen, offering quiet reassurances and gentle touches that told him he wasn’t alone.

And later, when the lights were low and they’d drift into bed, the connection between them was electric, intimate in a way Dieter had never known before. They’d move together slowly, unhurried, like they had all the time in the world. Honey would trace her fingers over his skin, whispering little affirmations that he clung to like lifelines. It was the kind of intimacy that made him feel seen, loved, and enough.

* end of flashback *

Dieter blinked, shaking off the memories that clung to him like a fog. He picked up his phone again, staring at Honey’s smiling face on the screen. His life now was filled with parties, late-night escapades, and a string of relationships that never seemed to stick. He was the subject of constant tabloid fodder, a walking scandal wrapped in designer clothes and bad decisions. People saw Dieter Bravo, the star, the partier, the man who had everything—but none of them saw the guy who once dreamed of a quiet life with the girl in the red dress.

The house he’d bought in Sherman Oaks was supposed to be a fresh start, a perfect family home with a backyard big enough for kids to run around in and a kitchen that felt like the heart of the house. But it was just him, rattling around the empty rooms, filling the silence with distractions. Sometimes, Dieter would catch himself imagining Honey there—her laugh echoing down the hallway, her shoes by the door, her favorite coffee mug on the counter. He wanted that life, even if he didn’t know how to keep it.

He scrolled through Honey’s profile one last time before setting his phone down, the weight of it all pressing heavy on his chest. She’d moved on, built something new, and all he had were the memories of a life that felt like it belonged to someone else. Dieter sighed, staring out at the LA skyline, wondering if he’d ever find his way back to something that felt like home.

Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedropascal #pedro pascal cinematic universe #pedro pascal fan fiction #pedro pascal fan fic #pedrohub #dieter bravo imagine #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo #dieter bravo fan fic #dieter bravo x #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x oc #dieter bravo x y/n

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brezelzeit · 3 months ago

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OC info post! **completely nonpolitical, the time period this character is from and what he's associated with I do not endorse, but this should go without saying (ironically tho this character sorta ends up working against the bad things associated with that anyway tho lol)** Name: Tobias Schnur Born: September 28th, 1895, near Freiburg am Breisgau, Baden-Württemberg, Germany Occupation: Gestapo officer (rank: Kriminalrat (Major)) Height: 5'8" Gender: Male Physical description: Average build but slightly chubby, upturned nose, small beady eyes, soft in the face and belly, balding receding hairline on the sides, small silver vintage style wire frame round glasses Hair: Dark brown Eyes: Blue Clothing: Black suit, black fedora, red, black, and white striped tie, and occasionally a leather trench coat, although he does wear other suits and coats from time to time

Personality traits: Shy, quiet, calm, submissive, analytical, loyal, rational, anxious (he is calm but it's mostly a cover for this, fortunately he and/or others take care of this mood for him often), cynical, intimidating (to those he interrogates), mischievous, withdrawn, detached, sweet, caring, distrusting, skeptical, polite, warm, careful, melancholic, insecure, nervous, awkward, helpful, curious, inquisitive, easily embarrassed, thoughtful, sensitive, laid-back, hardworking, sarcastic, disciplined, cowardly, independent, capable, creative, romantic, friendly, playful, modest, cooperative, controlled, composed, inhibited, good mannered, inviting, seductive, passive, pessimistic, uncomfortable, intuitive, a wallflower Orientation: Gay MBTI profile: ISTJ Enneagram profile: 6w5 Likes: being alone with his thoughts, his boyfriend Dieter, daydreaming, creating, reading books, nature, keeping to himself, peace and quiet time, routine; doing things the way he is used to, feeling calm, self-care, his dog Schmutzig, playing accordion, detective work, sleeping, his patience Dislikes: the fact he can be very needy, his insecurities, being unhappy and unhappy people, immature and selfish behavior in others, overprotective behavior, feeling like he is unattractive, not knowing how to solve certain problems, people with attachment issues, his anxiety problems, being sickly, seeing those actually enjoy torture (he has to do it for work but he almost never takes sadistic pleasure in it, unless it's a very rare case that he has a personal conviction/attachment towards- he finds the behavior of some other Gestapo men insanely cruel), being bullied (both the memories from his past as a child and other Gestapo being a jerk to him for not being as cruel), loud noise, people yelling

Hobbies: playing accordion, reading, drawing, cooking, shopping for clothes, golf, soccer, swimming, going to the movie theater, listening to radio shows, collecting stamps Socio-economic status: lower middle class, leaning poor, born and raised on a farm in the off-skirts of a city Afflictions: has an illness- brought about due to a bad reaction to mustard gas in WWI. He tends to sweat profusely, get stomach aches, fatigue, nausea, randomly, although not everyday. Parents' names: Arnold and Beate Schnur. Favorite food: Cheese spaetzle with bacon or ham and onions and asparagus Speech patterns: pauses a lot and tends to interject "hehe" randomly into conversation. Has a breathy, soft, nasal voice; sort of high pitched, can get whispery at times. Here's a post about my main character/main ww2 OC Tobias "Tobi" Schnur! Most of these pics are older art I don't like as much now that I've improved a bit more, but it's all I have that's finished and on hand of him atm. Above is a bunch of basic facts about him!!! He's sort of inspired by/based on Toht from Indiana Jones in looks and clothing and mannerisms, but personality wise is a much better person and a bit more sympathetic. And more human, more 3D. And a heeeeccckkkk of a lot fruitier heheehhehe

#ww2 oc #wwii oc #brezelzeit ocs #brezelzeit art #ww2 character

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beefros-sin-bin · 1 year ago

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Welcome to •my fic recs• blog! Got a fic to rec? Send it to me!

Currently only Pedro Pascal Character fics.

[In order of their initial recommendation]

The Fox and The Viper by @theywhowriteandknowthings Oberyn Martell x OFC

Hazy Days by @theywhowriteandknowthings Din Djarin x F!Reader

Douchbag!Frankie by @gracieispunk Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

The Run by @magpiepills Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x Santiago 'Pope' Garcia x F!Reader

SNAFU by @theywhowriteandknowthings Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

sing fever to the form by @thelightsandtheroses Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

Breaking the Rules by @theywhowriteandknowthings DBF!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Entergalactic by @harryleatherfit Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

Cookout by @harryleatherfit Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

Upper East Side by @harryleatherfit Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

I’ll Know It When I See It by @bageldaddy Pornstar!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Desperation by @theywhowriteandknowthings Dave York x F!Reader

Whole by @theywhowriteandknowthings Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x Santiago 'Pope' Garcia x F!Reader

Popular by @harryleatherfit Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x Santiago 'Pope' Garcia x F!Reader

Where Were You on Outbreak Day? by @theywhowriteandknowthings Joel Miller x F!Reader

The Pilot & His Girl by @avastrasposts Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

Seven Minutes in Heaven by @tieronecrush Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

relief by @pedropascalsx Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

Precious Possessions by @exquisiteserotonin Dave York x F!Reader

Creep by @theywhowriteandknowthings Joel Miller x F!Reader

Pause by @talaok Javier Pena x F!Reader

Night Walks Series by @toxicanonymity Joel Miller x F!Reader

Haunted by @theywhowriteandknowthings Joel Miller x F!Reader x Tommy Miller

Shore Leave by @theywhowriteandknowthings Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x Santiago 'Pope' Garcia x F!Reader

Another Chubby Subby Joel Imagine by @neverwheremoonchild Joel Miller x F!Reader

Rendezvous in Reno by @theywhowriteandknowthings Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

But Baby It's Art by @magpiepills Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

Your Summer Dream by @swiftispunk Joel Miller x F!Reader

All Over You by @theywhowriteandknowthings Javier Pena x F!Reader

Blood Money by @theywhowriteandknowthings Dave York x Max Phillips x F!Reader

Odd Couple by @idolatrybarbie Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

Hurts So Good by @theywhowriteandknowthings Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

Taungsdays, Am I Right? by @theywhowriteandknowthings Din Djarin x F!Reader

It's Too Early For This... by @trulybetty Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

Pleasure Principle by @nerdieforpedro Dave York x F!Reader

VS by @strang3lov3 Joel Miller x F!Reader

Mystery Strain by @rebel-held Dieter Bravo & GN!Reader

One Day at a Time by @rebel-held Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

The Princess & the Duke by @theywhowriteandknowthings Dave York x F!Reader

Worth the Weight by @gwendibleywrites Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

Slasher Joel by @toxicanonymity Joel Miller x F!Reader

Send in the Clown by @covetyou Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

Catch Me If You Can by @theywhowriteandknowthings Din Djarin x F!Reader

Table for Two by @hellishjoel Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x reader #beefro recommended #join me in sin

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nerdieforpedro · 10 months ago

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The Brave, the Bold, The Dirty - Fanfics that I adore

Volume 5

All fanfics on this list are for readers age 18 and up, please respect the author's tags, warnings and notes as they're there so you know what's in them. Read at your own risk.

Room 1918 by @megamindsecretlair (Nomad Steve Rogers x Black female plus size reader)

Sweet Treat - Part Two by @mrsmando (Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x plus size female reader) Follow up to 'Sweet Treat - part one.'

La Petit Mort @boliv-jenta (Joel Miller x reader and Dave York x reader) Dark Fic

Misfire @qveerthe0ry (Dieter Bravo x GN reader)

Fluffer by @proxima-writes (Dieter Bravo x PA female writer)

Hey Good Lookin’ - part one and Hey Good Lookin’ - part two by @gwendibleywrites (Chubby shy Frankie Morales x plus size reader)

Lemonade Sparkles by @frenchiereading (Frankie Morales x female reader)

Watta Man - A Marcus Pike Story by @atinylittlepain (Marcus Pike x female reader)

O’ Christmas Tree by @covetyou (Dieter Bravo x GN reader)

Lingerie by @604to647 (Din Djarin - modern AU x female reader)

Once in a Blue Moon by @whatsnewalycat (Dieter Bravo x female reader)

Hold Harder by @sin-djarin (Tim Rockford x female reader)

Christmas Indulgence by @movievillainess721 (Jack Daniels x plus size female reader)

Cowboy Hat Joel x Reader (an ask) by @theywhowriteandknowthings (Joel Miller x female reader)

Oh, The Wildflowers by @adora-but-ginger (Joel Miller x GN reader)

A Nanny for Christmas by @absurdthirst (Dave York x plus size female reader)

Baker Wonderland by @integra1127grimmreaper (Javier Guterrez x plus size female reader)

Consummating the Riduurok @beskarandblasters (Din Djarin x female reader)

Consent by @fuckyeahdindjarin (Dieter Bravo x female reader)

White Christmas by @absurdthirst (Joel Miller x female reader)

Symphony by @maggiemayhemnj (Joel Miller x Jersey - OFC)

What the Heart Wants by @artemiseamoon (Pero Tovar x female reader)

Javier Peña & His Sweetheart (Chubby Peña) by @beefrobeefcal (Chubby Javier Peña x female reader)

Please check out everyone's listed fics and master lists! Don't forget to reblog and comment, writers love interactions. 🥰

#Nerdie's fic recommendations #pedro pascal characters #fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller #din djarin #frankie morales #dieter bravo #the mandalorian #pero tovar #Dave york #Marcus pike #Tim rockford #Steve Rogers

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toxicrecs · 1 year ago

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. . . I ❤️ BEEFRO.

BEEFRO, this blew me away. This is some of my favorite dirty talk I have EVER read. From Dieter AND reader. God damn. I'm so glad you didn't rush this, because it is a MASTERPIECE. It's perfect. Perfection. I know I'll be revisiting it. *Biting my hand*

The contract 🤯🤯🤯 when I read the contract clause hooo boy. BUCKLE UP!!

“You ready to feed me?”, Dieter stated in a low, almost sultry voice, bringing his hand up to your lower back.

The 65+ orgy he was watching 😅

The thirst comments on the pap photo - SO REAL.

When he pulls the chair 🫠

“So soft, Cookie… maybe you have a treat for me if I’m a good boy… if I fit every fucking bit of this in my gut, you’ll let me eat you raw…”

The boxers & robe look - chef's kiss

Doing it *On the table*

And my god. His dirty talk, there's too much to quote 🥵🥵🥵🥵

THANK YOU, queen!!!

you are dieter’s new personal chef and you’re supposed to be responsible for making sure he eats fairly well just to maintain his current weight while he shoots a movie… but you can’t help how much you like it when you make him something particularly indulgent and he melts at the taste of your food, spewing compliments left and right and a couple of flirts here and there too 🤭

To Nonnie Love Beefro

A LONG TIME COMING, BUT HE'S HERE NONNIE! And I hope he lives up to the hype.

I-just-want-to-thank-you-sweet-baby-for-getting-me-through regards,

Beefro 👌🥩💜

--------<3----------

Beefro Proudly Presents:

a Chubby!Dieter One Shot

Please welcome Dieter Bravo to Beefro's Bistro!

a 'Dieter Bravo & Cookie' One Shot: Contract Conundrum

Pairing: Dieter Bravox F!Reader

Summary: You're hired to get Dieter ready for a heavyweight role.

Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI)

Word Count: 4,274

Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut, fingering (f receiving), p in the v - unwrapped (don't be silly, cover you willy, kids!), talk of eating, belly praise, self esteem, weight gain, mention of porn, loads of dirty talk, table top sex

Author's Notes: FINALLY! I know.. I KNOW. Between sinus infections depression and house guests, Dieter took the brunt of my willy-nilly gumption. I'm sorry, my babies... I hope he lives up to the hype and you're left sated.

Major thanks to @neverwheremoonchild for beta-ing the hell out of this for me, and to @theywhowriteandknowthings + @rebel-held for being champions!

--------<3----------

Generally, when you are hired for a new job as a private chef, it’s to help your client lose weight or introduce a new lifestyle – like veganism – to their household. But this was new; Dieter Bravo needed to gain weight for a role, and you were the one hired to help him do it.

Before you had even been introduced to him, you were handed an NDA by his manager along with the contract and the job requirements. Outlined in both were the meal plans, expectations, conduct, and specifically the amount he had to gain and time frame in which you had to help his achieve this. You sat across from his manager, Dan, while you read through the documents.

“If you have any questions…”, Dan started, voice pleasant but sounding like he really didn’t want you to ask him anything.

You looked up from the paperwork and nodded politely, then your eyes went back down. You noted under Requirements, it stated that you would be living on site with Dieter, and you would not be compensated for any adult activities you chose to engage in, nor would you receive any additional compensation for anything produced because of them. You had a good idea what that meant and any confusion as to why it was written in your contract evaporated when you remembered who you would be working for.

Dieter Bravo had a reputation based on rumours, and this contract just confirmed them all to be true. You smiled to yourself as you finished reading the documents. You picked up the pen and signed your future for the next year on the last page.

*****

You had a finite time to get Dieter heavier, and he was making it difficult. You were just over a week in, and his picky eating habits were hampering your efforts to do your job. He’d told you he liked fancy food, but everything that you made him had come back to the kitchen barely touched, and he’d refused, like a spoiled child, to tell you what he actually wanted.

According to his assistant, Frank, Dieter took this movie role for a paycheque and sighed the contract before being told he’d have to gain weight for it. His vanity had come into play, but the amount he would have to pay to get out of the contract was ridiculously high. After tantrums and screaming matches with Dan, his manager, Dieter finally agreed to do the role, but he wanted a private chef.

“He swore me to secrecy.”, Frank whispered to you in the kitchen. He took a look at the door then turned back to you. “Don’t tell him you heard this from me, but he’s a classic stoner… grilled cheese, burgers, pizza… y’know?”

You gave Frank a grin and motioned your lips being sealed. “I heard nothing. You were never here. I just happened to take a chance and hit the jackpot.”

That evening, Dieter wandered down to the kitchen to rebuke whatever five-star dining experience you’d conjured up.

“Hello, Mr. Bravo. Dinner will be served in just a few minutes.”, you said, looking up and smiling at him.

“Evening, Cookie....” He gave a half-hearted smile back as he went to the dining room and plunked down at the table. His grey t-shirt and black sweatpants had seen better days, and he fished a joint out of one of his pockets, lighting it up and taking a few drags.

You walked in, pushing a cart with a personal pepperoni pizza and garlic bread sticks on it.

“What in the fuck?!”, Dieter coughed as he blew out the smoke, his eyes wide.

“I’m… sorry, Mr. Bravo?”, you asked, placing the food onto the table.

“What… what’s this?!” , he asked, waving his hands at the pizza. “Cookie, where’s the… th-the fancy shit?!”

“Do you not want pizza, sir?” You were playing dumb and thankfully he was too flabbergasted to notice.

“Of course, I want fucking pizza!”, he yelled angrily. “That’s not the fucking point!”

He stared at you, chest and shoulders heaving with his deep breaths. You stared right back, beginning to question if taking Frank’s advice was a good idea… or even if it was good advice.

He slowly brought the joint back to his mouth and took a puff, holding your stare. You waited for him to throw you out of the house or berate you. Instead, he blew the smoke out of his nose and said in a sinister growl, “This better be the best goddamned pizza I’ve ever had.”

Apparently, it was the best goddamned pizza because he ate the entire thing. You attributed his appetite that night to the amount of weed he had in his system.

*****

This became the new routine: each night, you would make another one of his favourites for dinner and he would behave appallingly, then eat the whole thing. You were amused by his show each night, and he really wasn’t rude or mean to you, he was just loud with a lot of swearing, that was followed by him cleaning his plate.

It didn’t take long for this routine to start to make an impact on him. While he wore loose fitting clothing, after a few months of him indulging in your cooking, the softer jawline under his scruffy beard and the belly that would pop out firm under his shirt on occasion told you that you were doing your job well.

Over the next few weeks, he seemed to become more appreciative of the effort you put into the food you made. Dieter would often come into the kitchen while you were prepping for the meal and watch, commenting on how you were creating art for him to consume and how that was the perfect metaphor for a capitalistic society. While you appreciated his enthusiasm, you could not help but roll your eyes when he went on rants, waving his arms around, yelling about how life is fleeting, and art is forever or some other bullshit. Despite this, it was endearing how passionate he was, even if you had no idea what he was talking about.

As you spent more time with him, however, he started to make little passes at you that you would ignore and take in good humor, playing innocent to his flirting. It wasn’t anything serious or off putting at first; he would comment on how nice your outfit was or asking what you were doing after you were done your shift with an eyebrow wiggle. As of late, though, the harmless flirting and compliments started to become a little more aggressive. He was far more overt with his eyes washing over you and his hands finding their way to touch you, and he would ask you to sit with him while he ate. He eventually started asking you what you would do if he didn’t finish his dinner or if he was good and ate it all up, what reward he would get. It was definitely weird to begin with, but you came to accept it as part of working for eccentric artist who paid you very, very well.

You weren’t one to dip your pen in the company ink and breaking that rule for none other than Dieter Bravo seemed a little too cliché for you.

*****

“What’s on the menu?”, he called out from down the hallway as he walked towards the kitchen.

“Spaghetti and meatballs, Mr. Bravo.”, you responded casually, not looking up from the pasta sauce you stirred on the stove top.

“Gonna be enough?”, he asked with his hands in his pockets, watching you from over his sunglasses with a wide grin.

Looking up, you gave him a questioning look. “Mr. Bravo?”

His face looked over you as his tongue darted out quickly. He shuffled his weight from one foot to the other. “You heard me, Cookie.”

You hummed with a slight eye roll and nodded, then went back to the pot on the stove. This was obviously not the reaction he wanted because he came around the kitchen counter and stood next to you, his shoulder bumping yours.

“You ready to feed me?”, Dieter stated in a low, almost sultry voice, bringing his hand up to your lower back.

“Dinner will be ready soon, Mr. Bravo.”, you nodded again, trying to ignore his tone and touch, eyes down on the pot of pasta sauce you were stirring.

He huffed a laugh and moved behind you, nudging his nose against your neck, his hands gently holding your shoulder.

You shrugged his hands off you and turned around. You were not in the mood for him being so overt.

“Mr. Bravo – behave!”, you snapped, pointing the mixing spoon from the sauce at him.

Dieter grinned at you, his eyes scanning over your body.

“If I behave, do I get a reward, Cookie?”, he crooned with a flicker in his eyes.

You stared at him, trying to find words to tell him off, but the lookhe gave you had you feeling weak in the knees. You clenched your jaw – and thighs – and turned back to the stove top.

“Dinner will be ready in an hour or so, Mr. Bravo.” Your voice cracked, unintentionally letting him know he’d broken through the first layer.

*****

Prior to Dieter finding you in the kitchen, he’d been upstairs in his room, looking at porn and lazily stroking himself. Despite the debauchery on his laptop, his mind wandered to you downstairs. He thought about you often, enjoying the way you squirmed and flushed when he teased you and how you politely listened to his ramblings about ‘true art’ and the way your eyes would drift over his body, landing on his now fuller middle. He smiled to himself and looked down at his bare stomach. His smile fell a bit, noting that his decadence was really starting to show, and a pang of insecurity washed over him. He’d seen the recent papshots of himself, round belly protruding as he left a restaurant completely stuffed along with the heading ‘Dad-Bod Bravo Almost Unrecognizable!’ along with the numerous comments that he’d come to expect, critiquing his physique to cruelly mocking him. His dick went limp at the thought of it all.

He turned off the grainy video of a 65+ orgy that was on his screen and searched for those papshots again. If he wasn’t going to get off, he was going to punish himself. He clicked on the link to a gossip site and sighed, scrolling and rereading the comments until one made him almost choke on his own spit.

‘DIETER BABY YOU EATIN WELL. LOVE THIS FOR YOU.’

His eyes went wide, reading and rereading the comment, looking for any sign that this was a joke. He clicked on the comment, opening up the thread of responses, all of them being along the same line.

‘i want to feed him while we cockwarm’

‘CANT EVEN AT HOW FUCKIN GOOD HE LOOKS LIKE THIS’

‘Is it wrong to admit that seeing bravo with a big belly has awoken something in me?’

‘HOW MUCH DO YOU THINK HE HAD TO PACK AWAY TO GET HERE? COS HE DIDNT LOOK LIKE THIS A FEW MONTHS AGO. KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK BB DIETER.’

He stared at his screen, shocked. The final comment made his dick at once stand at attention:

‘who’s the lucky bitch getting to stuff our husband’s tummy? think they know how fucking blessed they are?’

*****

Dieter sat at the dining room table and watched as you plated the spaghetti for him with a wry grin, giving you a wink when you looked at him. Frank, his assistant, had warned that Dieter was a kinky bastard who liked to set up scenarios in his head then execute them with most being none the wiser until it was too late. When you asked him to elaborate, he just gave a sympathetic shrug and said, “You’ll know it when you see it.”

You were pretty sure you were seeing it now. Fuck.

“Sit with me, Cookie?”, he cooed with his head tilted.

You shook your head. “I need to clean up, Mr. Bravo.”

He pouted. “Please? I’ll be good…”

You sighed and moved to sit down in the chair across from him.

“Closer.” His tone was low. “Please.”

You sighed and pulled out the chair next to him; as soon as you sat down, he reached for the leg of the chair and pulled it right next to him, your legs touching.

The heat that had been building up under your skin all evening felt like it was going to burst as the hand that pulled your chair was now on your thigh, fingers softly touching and gently lifting your skirt higher. His nose nuzzled your ear as he mouthed kisses to your neck.

“So soft, Cookie… maybe you have a treat for me if I’m a good boy… if I fit every fucking bit of this in my gut, you’ll let me eat you raw…”

Every nerve ending in your body screamed at once, and the goosebumps that erupted made your skin feel electric under his lips. Despite this, you still tried to move away from him, not wanting to cross that line. You stood up and stood with your chair between you and him.

He didn’t stop you. And when you looked back at him, he didn’t look disappointed - he looked… encouraged?!?

“Cookie… nothing is sexier than consent.”, he growled with a lupine grin, picking up his fork. “But I don’t think you really wanna stop… just want a different position, huh baby?”

He twirled the fork in his pasta and stabbed the meatball, then shoved the whole forkful into his mouth. With wide eyes, you watched him; your mouth went dry as you tried to swallow, and your panties got wet as you crushed your thighs together.

As a chef, one of the great joys was seeing people enjoy your work, but this was on a wholly different level. Dieter was commanding you with just his intense gaze to watch him devour the meal you prepared him, and you couldn’t look away. You were now fully engaged in his scenario, yet you weren’t tethered or being held in place – it was just the magnetic pull of him eating your food that kept you in place. Bite after bite, he held eye contact and the only sounds he made were the occasional hum of appreciation and his quiet chewing.

He finished his plate and held it up towards you, a wry smile and a dark gaze on his face.

“More, please, Cookie.”

You nodded and stepped towards him, moving the chair between you out of the way. You took the plate from him, and his hand ghosted around your wrist, testing the waters with you again, but you didn’t pull away this time. Your eyes locked onto his and he gave you a ridiculously innocent and sweet smile before his hand slid up your skirt and he kneaded your ass cheek.

“Mr. Br-Bravo!”, you breathed out.

He was being so gentle, so soft; it was breaking your resolve.

“Oh Cookie… fuck…”, he groaned as he placed wet, hot open mouth kisses on your neck and jaw. “Dieter, baby… call me, Dieter.”

He moved the hand that was under your skirt to your wrist again and he pulled you down, placing your hand to his stomach.

“Feel that, Cookie?” His voice was soft, almost like he was praising you. “Making me fat...”

All you could do was nod, feeling the heat blooming in your cunt. You knew any sounds you tried to make would only come out as a whimper or a whine. You palmed his chubby middle and sucked in a breath, closing your eyes.

“Yeah, baby... I know what you want, I see you watching me...”, he grinned, his voice keeping that low register. Your eyes shot open, and you tried to pull your hand away, but he held it firm. “No shame in it, Cookie... everyone should do what they’re good at...”

He suddenly pulled you down further by the wrist into a surprisingly gentle kiss. He pulled back and looked at you.

“I wanna eat you raw... get on the table.”

You stared down at him, knowing the moment you got on the table, legs open for him, there would be no going back.

You shook your head, and his raised eyebrow in response threatened the tantrum he was willing to throw, that he’d become so famous for when he didn’t get his way. You weren't going to let him win this... at least not yet.

The voice that came out of your mouth even surprised you. “You need to finish your dinner. No dessert until then.”

A giant grin that ripped across his face. “Kinky Cookie... bad girl... I like it.”

*****

By the time every bite of spaghetti and meatballs were safely tucked away in Dieter’s overstuffed belly, he’d removed his shirt and pants, only sitting in his boxer shorts and his green housecoat. Every hiccough made his tummy condense and he would wince. He held it gently and let out a whine that turned into a burp.

“Good work, Mr. Bravo.”, you cooed, kneeling beside him as you gently cupped and palmed his belly, feeling the light layer of fat stretched thin over the immense amount of food jammed in it. “Did so well for me.”

He leaned back, eyes glazed and mouth open, panting. He gazed down at you and a small smile tugged at the left side of his mouth.

“Get on... get on the fucking table.”, he grunted as he sat up.

You thought about defying him, making him work harder for you, but before you could voice it, he, with great effort, pulled himself up and stood to his full height above you. His hand cupped your jaw and pulled, telling you to stand up, and as you did, he turned you so your back faced the table.

“I cleaned my plate, Cookie.”, his tone was gentle yet dark and he never broke eye contact with you. “I deserve a treat, right?... my dessert... right?”

You realized this situation was not in any way shape or form in your hands. Dieter, despite him wanting you to egg him on, encourage him to eat, was seizing back control, taking what he wanted, what he felt he deserved. You nodded dumbly at him, eyes wide as your breathing shuttered.

He nodded back, like he would have if he were scolding a child.

“So, you’re gonna get on the table, right, Cookie?”

He backed you against it, his belly being the last bit of force to shove you backwards. Once you were on the table, he gave you a dark, lupine grin as he grabbed your hips and shoved you further up and leaned down between your legs. He shoved your shirt up and pressed wet, sloppy kisses on your exposed middle, humming in delight. His hands moved to your thighs and pushed your skirt up to the waist, then he pulled your underwear down and moving to get them off you before he pulled them to his nose, took a deep breath, and tossed them across the dining room.

His eyes zeroed in on your core as he dipped his index and middle finger int your folds, smiling.

“So, fucking wet, Cookie... you get off on it, don’t you... this why you’re a chef, baby?... making people fat and round on your food gets you worked up?”

You whined and writhed on the table in response, and he let out a low chuckle, circling his middle finger around your throbbing clit.

“Come on, Cookie... tell me how much you like it... tell me what goes through that fucking beautiful head of yours when you see me get bigger... fill out... pant and moan as I try to swallow down every bite you put in front of me...”

He replaced his middle finger with his thumb and pumped two fingers into your cunt, beginning an agonizingly slow pace. You whined, hearing the sloppy wet noises he was pulling out of your sopping core.

“You like that, huh?... stuffing me stupid, then leaving me each night with a raging boner... leaving me to fuck my hand or anything else I can fit my dick in... but it’s getting harder, Cookie... this gut is getting in the way of everything...”

He watched you as your legs shook. He could feel your walls flutter, and he smiled, knowing he had you right where he wanted.

“Making it so hard... but you want that, don’t you?... want me to need you... want you to feed me... want you to fuck me...”

He began to pump harder, and you cried out arching your back. He was working up a sweat, between working you over and his belly trying to digest the ridiculous amount of food he had in it. Dieter pulled his fingers from your core and sat down in the chair, gripped your thighs and dove in. He sucked your clit hard, and you screeched out, hands going into his messy curls. He shoved his tongue into your weeping, twitching hole and his nose pressed your clit perfectly, sending you screaming into your orgasm, and he happily lapped at your spend.

He worked you over as you started to come down, but he didn’t stop. His mouth moved back to your swollen and sensitive nub, and he pushed the two fingers back into you repeatedly. He wasn’t letting you go now that he had you, and he hummed in response to every whine, cry, and moan that left your mouth.

“Mr... Mr. Bravo...Dieter!... Please... I-I can’t!...”, you cried out, your body writhing and shaking.

He shook his head vigorously between your legs, grunting ‘uh-uh’ back to you and continuing his assault on your quivering cunt.

The noise his work pulled out of you as you came again was deep and animalistic, and he gave your clit one last, hard suck before he pulled back and stood up. In one swift movement, he pulled his boxer shorts down and pumped his cock, then pushed it into you, letting out a long, low moan as he did. He gripped your hips, and you wrapped your legs around him as best you could.

Goddamnit, he was big. Your eyes rolled into the back of yoiur head as he seated himself in you deep.

“Move ... please move, Dieter... fuck... so big... have to move... need you to... ”, you whined, tilting your hips to encourage him.

He started to set his pace, each pump pushing a squeak or moan out of you.

“Jesus titty fucking Christ... yeah, Cookie... soft as shit pussy sucking me right in... fuck you for holding out on me... fuck you, Cookie, for carrying around this tight little pussy and not telling me...”

The sound of your wet cunt being impaled repeatedly by Dieter’s thick cock was obscene, but the filth coming from his mouth was even more so.

“Lucky little bitch… getting to stuff me… feed me… make me fat…”, he grunted through gritted teeth as he pounded into you. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good… you like being fucked by a fat guy, Cookie?... you did this, baby… you did this to me… the fucking envy of every god damned kinky fuck out there… yeah, you are a fucking lucky bitch…”

“Fuck you, Dieter… fuck you and your big fucking cock… and your fucking ap-appetite!... you eat so good, too… fuck… oh fuck…yes… just like that… yes… uhhhgod… yes, Dieter… keep going…”

Your tight walls fluttered and clenched on his cock, and he groaned and grunted.

“Yeah , so close, baby… oh fuck… come on my dick, Cookie… be a good little bitch and fucking come on my dick… wanna feel you cream on me… then I’m gonna – Fuck!... then I’m gonna fill this pussy… it’s fucking mine… come on… lemme have it… lemme have it, Cookie baby…”

The white-hot bolt of energy traveled down your spine and exploded in your core, sending you screaming and arching your back off the table. Dieter held you firm as he pounded you through your orgasm.

“That’s fucking right!... yeah, baby… yeah… fuck… fuck fuck fuck fuck… Cookie… gonna come in you-your pussy… you’re mine… you’re fucking mine… yeah… yeah… yeah!”

With a final grunt, his hips pushed hard into you as he came hard. His hand moved from your hip and came down beside your face as he panted, his forehead resting on your chin.

Both of you were quiet, minus the sounds of your heavy breathing filling the air.

“Fuck you and your fucking pussy… god damnit, Cookie…”, he breathed, and you smiled.

“Fuck you and your monster cock, Bravo.”, you huffed back with a laugh.

Silence filled the room again until Dieter slipped his softening cock from you, and you let out a small whine. He smiled and chuckled.

“Don’t leave… come upstairs.”, he said quietly, pressing a gentle kiss to your collar bone.

When you opened your eyes, you were met with his big, pleadling brown ones looking up at you.

“Are you a post-coital snuggler, Mr. Bravo?”, you asked teasingly, smiling.

“Yeah… yeah, I am…” He looked down and grinned bashfully, nodding.

He brought his gaze back up at you, a soft and warm look on his face. He leaned in close, lips almost touching as his bely pressed you into the table.

“Yeah… plus I wanna see your tits and be comfortable in bed.”

--------<3---------

TAG LIST:

@theywhowriteandknowthings @harryleatherfit @harriedandharassed @neverwheremoonchild @rebel-held @beee-haw @nevergoingbacknowshine @idolatrybarbie @v4vayha @lalocitos @xdaddysprincessxx @deathsholywaterr @heareball @lyssramscal @wintrwinchestr @blackfemalenerd @toxicanonymity @southernbe @starkeydaviss

#HELL YEAH #💦#chubby!Dieter #entitled!Dieter #somewhat aggressive!Dieter #aaaaahhhhhh #AAAAAHHHHHHHHH

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skratchytheclown · 8 months ago

Note

How much does everyone weight?

Ah man, That's a pretty difficult question. I'll probably just put in ranges for the characters and briefly explain why I think that way (it will also be in pounds soo sorry lol):

Junior: A bit on the dense side, but still pretty small. A lot bigger than a human baby though. 80-140 pounds?

Larry: Kind of a skinny kid. I just looked up the average weight of a 13 year old. 80-150 pounds, maybe.

Morton: The biggest Koopaling, despite being the second-youngest. Also pretty chubby and muscular (like Wario). Uhhh 270-350 pounds?

Wendy: Not much taller than Larry, but quite a bit wider. 120-160 pounds?

Iggy: Looks like a skeleton. Low on both fat and muscle. Even though he's really tall, he's definitely lighter than Wendy. 100-120 pounds, perhaps.

Roy: Pretty close to Morton, except he isn't as overweight and has a smaller skull. 200-280 pounds, I guess.

Lemmy: You could kick him. 30-80 pounds.

Ludwig: Just a bit smaller than Roy. Also more lean than him. 160-210 pounds?

MT: over eight feet tall (2.4 m) and made mostly of metal. He wasn't made to be absurdly heavy, but still very heavy. 400-600 pounds? (large range I know).

Hariet: very scrawny. No muscle or fat in sight. Still has bones though, and is about as tall as the average adult human female. 60-90 pounds maybe?

Stewart: Fat. Possibly bigger than Morton. 220-300 pounds.

Emar: A literal skeleton. 40-110 pounds.

Silvea: Also fat and muscular, similar to Morton. She's taller than him though. 260-370 pounds?

Dieter: He is peak fitness, even if he looks like a string bean. 160-200 pounds, probably.

(the size of the ranges vary wildly, but that's because I am less certain about some than I am of others)

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bonezone44 · 8 months ago

Text

Dieter is the chubby bi boy going out to the clubs and having lots of crazy sex and somehow always pulls partners who are much more responsible than he his.

-------

"You don't ... have to wear a condom," says Dieter.

His one-night-stand gawks in surprise. "Well now I'm definitely wearing a condom!" He sighs heavily and looks at Dieter with tender concern. "Are you really fucking strangers without protection?"

Dieter scoffs and rolls his eyes. "No, because no one will! I'm out here trying to get rawdogged and cum-soaked like a dirty little pig but no one is willing to stick their bare cock in my ass and fill me up and I've got staying power, okay?" He glares with his hands on his hips. "I can come four or five times in a row on just a dildo alone!"

His partner's eyes are half-lidded. He licks his lips and holds his own hard cock tightly at the base. "Okay," he says with a breathy sigh. "Let's ..uh... let's say we see how tonight goes and uh... maybe we go in the morning and get tested together?" He swallows thickly, and starts stroking himself. "Maybe when we get the results I can uh... do all that for you."

Dieter's eyes light up and his pout turns into an excited little half-smile. "Really?"

"Yeah, yeah," he answers, trying to hold himself back from pouncing on Dieter. Instead he looks around for the condom he just had in his hand.

"Amazing." Dieter climbs on the bed and continues to finger himself open.

-----

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coulsons-fullmetal-cellist · 2 years ago

Text

Rumour Has It

(Dieter x horror loving female reader)

Words: 1, 373

Summary: Something happens to threaten your relationship with Dieter

Warnings: body insecurity, mentions of vomiting, mentions of binge eating, mentions of body parts

Check out masterlist here

You probably shouldn’t have eaten that entire tub of ice cream but you didn’t care. You were buried under a pile of blankets, hoping that a worm hole would just swallow you out of existence. A hand reached out from the pile, needing another tissue.

*****

You were never one to listen to gossip, most of it being phoney nonsense. But this time, this stupid rumour got to you. All because it involved your boyfriend, Dieter Bravo.

The relationship wasn’t completely out in the open yetas you tended to avoid places where he’d be easily recognised. And you were a nobody compared to the award-winning troublemaking bad boy of the press.

No one seemed to catch on that whenever he was working on a project that required special effects makeup, you were always the one on crew and always the one to do his makeup. But you were just behind the scenes, off camera; no one cared about that.

For this latest film Love in the time of Cosmos, a space age romance, you were again on crew, but Dieter didn’t require much work, apart from an occasional fake wound. His female co-star however, required an almost full body of work as she was playing an alien princess to his human smuggler. Zoay Dejeuner, the weirdly named model turned actress, didn’t require a full body of makeup, just where the ridiculously revealing costume wasn’t covering her body. You all still had to spend hours working on painting her upper body and her legs and it meant you had to get almost up close and personal with the former model’s perfect body.

You weren’t exactly skinny, but you weren’t exactly chubby either. Sure, with the right padding and shapewear, you could pull of an hourglass figure. You instead preferred to wear comfortable clothing, especially given your profession. You happily wear overalls, colourful sweaters and shoes that didn’t even think about having any sort of elevation to the heels. But now, working on Zoay, you felt yourself sucking in your stomach and being very aware of the thickness of your thighs. You would never in a million years have the confidence to sit around in practically nothing while being surrounded by strangers. And you suspected she never had to worry about wearing a bra in her life, the perkiness needing no support. In fact, you were pretty sure there was not an ounce of fat on her long lithe body. You were fine living in the knowledge that you wouldn’t even be considered for an invitation into the world of beautiful people.

But then the rumour started.

No matter what project Dieter was working on, the media would somehow always have him romantically linked to whatever co-star he was working opposite. Fans were constantly shipping his character with other characters, therefore shipping the actors together, usually someone much younger. Dieter ignored all this of course, thinking it was complete nonsense. And all the craziness would die down once the film had finished its runtime in cinemas.

This time though…

Debbie, your co-worker who always seemed glued to social media, showed you the photo. You couldn’t believe your eyes. It was blurry so it was hard to make out exactly what was going on, but it was clear enough to anyone what was going on. Dieter was on the backlot of the film studio and Zoay was also there kissing him. She was kissing Dieter. Dieter your boyfriend. Dieter your boyfriend who said he loved you.

You left early, feigning a stomach bug, and managed to just hold it all together until the door of your apartment closed. You immediately doubled over, like you were in pain as the sobbing would not stop, almost wailing with how much it hurt. You heard your phone ring, but you threw your bag across the floor, like it stung you. Eventually you got up from the floor.

You now understood why people ate ice cream when they were sad. Although you probably ate too much, or you were still sobbing too much because you had to run to the bathroom to throw up everything you ate. Eventually you got up from the bathroom floor.

You ended up in your bed, buried under all the blankets. You’re not sure how long you were under this daze of despair, days probably, it was hard to tell.

At some point, you heard the sound of your front door opening and closing. If Leatherface was here to finish you with his chainsaw, you would happily welcome it. Instead, you heard Dieter calling out your name, forgetting he had a key to your place. You hoped that if you if remained hidden under your pile, he would go away. But alas, he found you.

“What’s wrong? You haven’t been answering my calls. I thought you were dead or something.”

“I wish I was dead” you mumbled before the tears came back.

You felt the bed dip with Dieter weight but still refused to emerge.

“I need to explain the photo.”

“No…”

“You need to see this. Please”

He sounded sincere so you gave him the benefit of the doubt. You emerged enough so Dieter could show you his phone. He was showing you a video: it was Dieter standing in that same spot, minding his own business. Zoay then approaches him, looking to try to get friendly with him. He clearly looks disinterested and moves to leave before Zoay forcefully grabs him into a kiss. Immediately Dieter pushes her away and walks off angrily.

“I didn’t know she planned this. She was always coming onto me, and I kept saying no so she goes and does this.”

“But why?”

“She’s a model doing her first acting gig. She thinks if she can hook up with me, then it’ll boost her career. She was just trying to use me.”

“Where’d you get this footage?”

“My agent managed to track down who did the original post. They were hoping for film footage but clearly they didn’t get what they wanted, just a crappy still. Now that the whole thing is up, that bitch’ll be going down.”

You buried your face back into your pillow, now feeling all the shame of doubting your boyfriend.

“I’m sorry Dieter.”

“What why? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I doubted you and…I don’t know, I was feeling insecure because you’re always surrounded by beautiful people all day and I’m not…”

He hushed you, his hand rubbing your back.

“Do you know why I like being with you?”

You mumbled back a no.

“Everyone I’ve ever been linked to had turned out to be using me for their own gain. I though Annika was different but…” he shrugged “If I told anyone that Beauty and the Beast is my favourite film, they’d just laugh at me.”

You turned to look at him.

“You’re the first person to genuinely be interested in me, for me.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “I hate that I get linked to every co-star and I hate seeing the hurt on your face when it happens.”

He then lies down next to you.

“I’ve been with so many people I’ve lost track of what digits I’m at, but I know my type and you’re it.”

“You wouldn’t prefer a super model?”

“Nope. I don’t get why everyone thinks getting with a super model would be hot, but it’s really boring. Their tits don’t bounce and there’s not ass to grab on to. When I’m having sex, I want to see jiggly bits!”

That opened a flood of hysterical giggles from you and Dieter joined in.

“You have the perfect jiggle.”

Dieter snuggled in to kiss you, but you moved away.

“I wanna kiss you.”

“No, I haven’t brushed my teeth, I’m gross.”

“Don’t care”

“I ate a lot of ice cream.”

“You’ll taste good then.”

“Then I threw it all up.”

Dieter drew back with a sigh and stood up off the bed. You felt a sudden coldness as your blanket pile was removed. He picked you up like as sad puppy.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“You look after me all the time. It’s my turn to look after you.”

Tagging @boliv-jenta @ellenmunn @chaithetics @cevans-is-classic

#pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #dieter bravo fanfic #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter fanfic #dieter x reader #dieter x f!reader #dieter bravo #the bubble netflix #the bubble #love of horror fanfic #love of horror #dieter x honey cakes

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