#dieter bravo x reader

[prolix-yuy]

Thank you so much for this kind reblog Mysty! It was such a fun idea to explore and play around with how a "famous actor" could be an incubus. It was also refreshing to put out into the world some of the frustrations I always felt about virginity and how the view of it changes as you age. While the reader's age is not specified in the story, I think many people can relate to feeling like virginity becomes a huge burden as time goes on, and I really wanted Dieter to be an enthusiastic partner for her first time (monster cock and all!) Thank you for reading lovely, I'm so glad you enjoyed it!

Crawling Back to You

Pairing: Incubus!Dieter Bravo x Virgin F!Reader

Summary: Have you no idea that you're in deep?

Word Count: 8.2k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, religious corruption kink, bastardizing prayers, brief drug use, mentions of alcohol consumption, grinding, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, breaking a hymen, descriptions of blood, biting and drawing blood, pheromone incubus anatomy, size difference/kink like whoa, monster transformation, monster fucking, PiV sex, wildly unrealistic sex, kind of dubious consent in the way that she has no idea what she's getting into so Dieter checks in A LOT, consent is sexy and monsters especially should ask for it, Reader has no idea what she's doing when it comes to summoning an incubus.

Notes: Like most things Dieter's involved in, it takes twice as long but you reap the most rewards. A little late for Halloween, but spooky season is 24/7 and I needed to put this out into the world as soon as possible. Very special gold star mutual thanks due to @ezrasbirdie who gave me the prompt for this story and then talked me through some of the ideas she had. Religious corruption kink is super new for me, not being raised in a formal religion, but it was incredibly interesting to explore in this way. Apologies for the sacrilege, friends, it's all in the pursuit of sexyness.

A big disclaimer! This is not a blueprint for losing your virginity! This is some wildly unrealistic sex, especially for someone who has never experienced PiV intercourse before! Please be safe and careful with your bodies. While we thirst over these scenarios and would love to take monster cocks, always practice safe and fun sex with partners who care about your comfort.

A second disclaimer that in this fic, the Reader defines losing her virginity as experiencing penetrative sex and breaking her unbroken hymen. Virginity does not look the same for every person, and each individual's circumstances may be very different. Virginity is also a social construct that has some gross stigmas around it, which we'll be briefly addressing. I've also kept the reader's age unspecified (18+ of course) but that she has gone to college, so whatever age you may be reading this, your own sexual journey moves at your pace and if/when you define that you've passed this milestone, that's the right time for you.

Cross-posted on AO3

The lines chalked into your hardwood floors glow with a sudden and panic-inducing heat, smoldering as a phantom breeze whips around your kneeling body. The lights in your apartment flicker and dim as a sooty haze hangs around your ankles. Springing to your feet, you frantically search for something to smear the careful symbols to nonsense while a crackle of electricity raises all of the hair on the back of your arms and neck.

It’s much too late to go back now.

Something pulls in the center of your chest as the room expands and contracts like a great beast breathing. You try to stand strong but the tremble in your frame chatters your teeth. Suddenly the room plunges into darkness, and a crack echoes in your ears before the light swells back to full strength. Bracing yourself for what may be in the circle you foolishly copied, you peel open your eyes. 

Then, your mouth falls open, because never in your wildest dreams did you expect Dieter Bravo, famous actor, to be sitting in the middle of your half-assed summoning circle.

“What the fuck?”

He looks just as bewildered as you do, cross-legged on the floor and pulling his lips from a turquoise bong cradled in his lap. He’s wearing sunglasses - did you spirit him here from halfway around the world? - and an open silk bathrobe patterned with roaring tigers. The waterfall of folds bundle in his lap, and for a mouth-drying moment you wonder if he’s got anything on beneath. Then he shifts, billowing a cloud of skunky smoke at your ceiling and placing the bong at arms length. 

Well, he is wearing socks at least, pulled halfway up his legs and under Crocs. You don’t know whether to laugh or choke on your tongue.

“What the fuck to you too,” he grumbles, creakily getting to his feet and dusting little frills of ash from his shoulders. It’s now easy to see he’s sporting tiny black boxer briefs, and your eyes fight to land anywhere but there. They finally find the book, opened to the page you scoffed over until your finished glass of wine goaded you on.

“This can’t be happening,” you finally squeak out, shifting on the balls of your feet as you spin and press your fingers into your cheeks. 

“Sure is,” Dieter says, one hand on his hip and looking at you with naked curiosity. He’s swept back the robe on one side, showing off the shapely curve of his thigh, the soft definition of his stomach, how large his hands…

“I didn’t…I couldn’t have…you…go back,” you stammer, heart and head pounding. Does this mean you’re a witch? Did you honestly summon something with a book you rented from the library? Nothing makes sense with this man staring at you - practically leering - as you contemplate whether you’re having a dusty-old-book-based hallucination.

“Breathe, baby,” Dieter purrs, hands making soothing motions in the air between you. Taking in a big breath and letting it out explosively, you follow Dieter’s motions to sit down with him. The floor is hard and unforgiving on your bottom, but you criss-cross-applesauce with him as he leans back on his hands.

“Normally when I show up, people aren’t all that surprised,” he says, and his voice is raspy and sonorous in the room. You swallow hard, finding comfort in twisting the hem of your pajama shirt in your palms.

“Well, it’s pretty damn surprising to have THE Dieter Bravo in my living room,” you say, a momentary swell of pride when you realize your sarcasm hasn’t flown the coop with your sanity. Dieter chuckles, tilting his head onto one shoulder.

“Who were you expecting?” 

“Honestly, no one. Nothing,” you lie. Half-lie. You were hoping for something pretty specific.

“Very cute, but let’s not pretend we don’t know what’s going on here. I know exactly what you were hoping would pop up in this pretty little circle of yours.” 

Your eyes wander to his inner thigh, then snap to a symbol on the floor. 

“I thought…” You sigh, ducking your head. “I thought I was summoning some sort of…sexy demon. At least that’s what the book said.” 

“An incubus,” Dieter offers, and you nod. 

“But clearly something went wrong, because you’re here, somehow.” You scrub a hand over your face. “No idea how I messed up this bad. I didn’t even know you could mess up this badly.”

“Oh, you didn’t,” Dieter says in a carefree voice. “Mess up, that is.” You arch an eyebrow at him.

“But I got…you.”

Dieter leans forward, elbows on his knees as he cocks his head with a knowing smile. In the dim light of your apartment his eyes seem even darker than before.

“Exactly what you asked for. At your service.” He tips his head, tongue slipping from between his plush lips to swipe along his full lower one. A sudden patter of arousal grips your hips, and he half closes his eyes and breathes deep.

“That can’t…you’re Dieter Bravo.”

“Yes.”

“You’re an…incubus.”

“Also yes.”

The next question blurts out of your mouth too quickly to stop.

“Why?”

His laugh is just as quick and breaks some of the tension digging into your spine. The warmth of it wraps your head in cotton, smiling along. 

“Oh, starlet, I should be pissed as hell to be pulled away from that fantastic party I was about to ruin, but this is turning out to be much more fun.” Your cheeks warm at the affectionate name. “How many people do you think summon incubi these days? A demon’s gotta get by.” He’s sliding closer to the edge of the circle but not moving past it. A small voice in the back of your mind notes that he might not be able to.

“So…acting,” you say, not without a little smirk. He seems to like that, smile stretching wider and crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“What, should I be slinging burgers?” he asks with another snort of laughter. “C’mon, don’t tell me it doesn’t make sense. Beautiful people, sex appeal galore, fast living and high octane relationships? I haven’t been hungry in ages.”

Your hands still in your lap, studying your fingers as you let the silence linger. Dieter allows it for a time before his voice pulls you back.

“But you summoned, and I came. You must have a reason.” 

Now that the silly half-buzzed fantasy is mere feet from you, saying it aloud is daunting.

“You’ll…you won’t get it.” 

His eyebrows lift in slow surprise. 

“Try me.”

You're turned on more than you’ve ever experienced in your life, and Dieter’s nostrils flare as his jaw ticks.

“I was having a drink. A couple,” you correct, the dregs of the bottle giving you away. “And I was just hating the way I was feeling about everything going on and I looked at this book and it seemed like a funny thing, to try and summon a demon…”

“Incubus, get it right,” Dieter purrs, and the air thickens.

“I didn’t think it would work,” you protest, hands coming up to cradle your temples. 

“But you hoped, enough to do all this work on the one day of the year when magic is easiest to grasp,” he teases, tilting his head to the side to catch your eye. It’s definitely not helping the situation that he’s Dieter Bravo, solid C-list star who’d captured your attention in more than one of his movies. Thoughts of his dark eyes and full lips drew your hands down your body on more than one occasion before…

Dieter growls low and frustrated. “Let’s cut to the chase, starlet. You’re laying out a buffet and I can’t even have a taste.” You blink owlishly at him before he smirks, licking an incisor. “I can smell how much you want me.”

Shock slams your mouth shut, face burning. Your traitorous body has failed you again.

“You called and I answered. I’m still in your circle, so you could send me away, but I doubt you know how to do that.”

He’s right. You’ve trapped him here. With little old you.

“Or, you could tell me what you really wanted when you spent all this time writing all these little symbols so carefully.” Dieter’s fingers dance along the chalk lines, smile turning cheekier. Steeling yourself, you let the truth out into open air.

“I called you because…I’ve never had anyone before.” 

Dieter’s face remains cooly neutral, but you can see his nostrils flare briefly. 

“You’ve never…”

You shrug, self-deprecating smile cutting through the awkwardness.

“I’ve done some things, by myself, but never…I’ve never had sex with anyone in the…classical way.” The words are starched and wooden but hit a chord with Dieter. He repositions to sit back on his knees, hands splayed on his bare thighs. The smooth expanse of his chest begs to be touched.

“I thought I smelled something special here, and I was oh so right,” he rasps, nipping at his lower lip while he drags his eyes over your body. “Human virginity is a social construct, but inexperience in pleasure? Being allowed to revel in your body discovering all the ways it can feel? That is a rare treat.” 

You don’t expect the sudden rush of emotions at Dieter’s eagerness. Years of people either finding you broken or fetishizing your “purity” had given you an even larger complex than you thought. 

“It’s not…fucked up that I’m doing this?” you ask. 

“What sounds better to you, letting some Chad fumble through trying to pleasure you when his dick can barely handle your sweet cunt, or allowing someone with centuries of experience give you everything you ever desired?”

Your aforementioned cunt knows which one she wants.

“May I ask why you’ve waited until now?” he says, interrupting your railroading thoughts. Shyness and shame clouds your eyes.

“My parents were very religious. Lots of ‘thou shalt nots’ and ‘obey thys’. But I wanted to be a good daughter. So badly.” Dieter’s eyes are darkening as you speak, fingers pressing divots into his thighs. “So I did everything they said. Followed all the rules. And I grew up their perfect little girl. Never got caught sneaking out with a boy, never drank or smoked or anything.” 

“How…boring,” Dieter comments. It stings between your shoulders.

“Yeah, that’s pretty much all I heard when I went to college. That I was boring for not liking weed. A buzzkill because I was nervous about breaking rules. And sex…”

Here you swallow, your lower lip trembling before you bite it back. 

“I thought I was doing everything right. Everyone told me I was doing everything right. And then I get into the real world and nobody wants…” Looking up you catch a softer expression on Dieter’s face, true understanding blunting the lust.

“How have these fumbling fools tried to pleasure you?” he asks, and maybe the wine is still thrumming in your veins (it’s not), but your tongue is looser than it’s ever been.

“Grinding mostly. I think they’ve…cum…but I don’t. Not like when I do it myself.” 

Dieter snarls softly. “Fuckers,” he rumbles, an oncoming thunderclap crackled with electricity. 

“Every time I feel like I’m damaged goods,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I thought maybe this would…fix me.”

The lights in the room dip low as Dieter chuckles. Darkness seems drawn to him, settling around his shoulders like a fine stole.

“Betrayed by the God you worshiped so faithfully,” he muses, rolling his shoulders and licking his lips. “Don’t worry, starlet, I’ll take care of you tonight.”

“Can I…do anything for you?” you ask. Dieter’s smile softens, tutting quietly.

“Believe me, you’ll be perfect,” he praises, the heat in your cheeks even more unbearable. “Like I said, I’m rarely hungry anymore, but your arousal will be delicious. I’ll gorge myself on your peaks and leave you sated…and ruined for any after me.”

That should be a warning. It only makes your want greater.

“Okay,” you breathe out. Dieter’s smile widening again. Are his teeth…sharper?

“Now we can fuck to our heart’s content in this summoning circle here,” Dieter says, tapping his finger in the air. Motes of copper light and sparks rain down from an invisible barrier. “I’ve had more challenging obstacles. But if you would like me at my best, break the circle starlet.”

Standing back up, you retrieve a cloth from your kitchen table. When you return Dieter is standing in the center, prowling ever so slightly in his tiny prison. You move to wipe the line connecting the circle when…

“Are other celebrities incubi?” you ask, kneeling in front of him with open curiosity on your face. Dieter’s predatory smile quickly shuffles to confused and incredulous.

“I mean, maybe, I don’t keep close tabs.”

“Tom Hiddleston could totally be one. Or Robert Downey Jr. Heck, maybe Marvel just employs incubi to keep their revenue going…” Leaning down, you move to wipe the mark. 

“Strange little starlet,” Dieter chuckles, and a warm breeze tickles the back of your neck. With one swipe the circle is broken.

“Hannah Waddingham would totally be…” you start to say, nerves tumbling words from your lips, but thankfully Dieter’s stop them. 

He moves so quickly for a moment you’re sure he’s going to devour you, tear you limb from limb for imprisoning him. Instead he crashes your mouths together, hand firm on the back of your neck as his broad shoulders press you on your back. His hips slot between your thighs so smoothly you’re arching into them before you can think straight. Once your head is carefully lowered to the floor his hands find your wrists and press them above your head, maneuvering your thighs to wrap you around his waist. The dizzying feat of agility pales in comparison to his kiss.

Dieter commands your mouth to submit, tongue hot and lewd between your lips. You’re afraid you’ll choke on your own but he strokes delicate paths into the lush depths that keep you barely breathing. His lips are plush and yielding, pulling away to drag against the corner of your mouth or teasing the edge of your lips. And his teeth. You’d had boys clack against you, or press them harshly against your lips. Dieter knows exactly when to scrape them against your tongue, how much pressure to put with your lower lip trapped, the anticipation of them sliding against your skin before he dives in again. 

“What a soft, pretty thing you are,” he rasps, and there’s a deep grinding quality to his voice now. Like stones moving slowly past one another, it vibrates straight to your clit as he inhales deeply behind your ear. 

“Dieter…” you manage, his face lifting from his ecstasy to study your own. His eyes are somehow losing the edge of white, expanding into inky blackness. He lazily laps at his lower lip, and when you lean up to kiss his chin he snarls and presses deep into your apex.

“I’m sorry, starlet, I forgot you’ve been waiting to break promises,” he teases, sliding a hand down to knead at your ass. As quickly as you were laid out you’re suddenly in the air, legs wrapped around Dieter’s waist as he carries you out of your living room. His strength has you feeling light as a feather, barely a nuisance as he searches out a place for his plans.

“The bedroom.” You motion to a half-opened door and Dieter’s knowing smile precludes entering. 

“Eager, aren’t we? What if I wanted to lay you out for everyone to see?”

The image of your body laid bare, covered in moonlight and monstrous hands, flutters your eyes as the bedroom door shuts behind you.

“No, tonight you will remain in my confessional,” he says, kneeling down on the bed and letting you fall back into the mess of pillows and sheets. 

“You’re very fond of religious metaphor,” you rib, rubbing your thighs together as Dieter sheds the robe and his Crocs, a brief moment of clarity bubbling a giggle up your throat. Dieter’s motions slow as he regards you again, kneeling between your legs.

“Maybe I am rather fond of…corruption,” he husks, the word lighting on your skin like sparks. “Maybe I like seeing you forsake all for me.” 

If he asked, you just might. The high of his attention is so great.

“But in this moment, what I mean is we will speak no lies in this room.” His hands trail down your thighs, and now your body remembers it has no experience from here. You shake, heart pounding as Dieter crawls up your body with only brief brushes to guide his way. “My promise is that you will know pleasure as great as I can offer. And you will tell me everything you think, and feel.”

He hovers over your body, broad enough to block the paltry light through your window.

“Would you like to be pleasured?”

“Yes, Dieter, please.” 

His smile is wicked, and the scrape of his fingernails up your ribcage arches your back. In a fluid slide of his fingers your shirt is over your head and tossed into darkness, leaving you bare-chested under him. He hums with appreciation as his face descends, curved nose dragging along your tender skin. Time hangs in the balance as you tense for what may come, but Dieter only traces dizzying paths with the tip of his nose and the fullness of his lips. Up one side of your ribs, placing kisses at intervals, then along the underside of your breast. His hot breath warms skin, nipples hardening sharp and sensitive at the scratch of his facial hair. Then down the center of your stomach, a long and cyclical detour around your bellybutton. Stomach trembling, he hushes you as his fingers slide under your waistband and bunch your sleep shorts and underwear in his hands. 

Another fluid drag and you’re nude, still swimming in endorphins at Dieter’s skilled touch. It’s only when hot palms wrap around your knees and begin easing them apart do you balk. Instinctively you clamp your legs together, heat flooding your face. Dieter tuts, smoothing his hands up and down your jittery thighs.

“What are you afraid of, starlet?” he asks, ghosting his fingers over the apex of your sex. Just the brush against your mound steals your voice, that same hot shame and anxiety pulling you in on yourself. When you don’t answer, Dieter commands more firmly, “Look at me, sweetheart.”

Dragging your eyes from the ceiling back to him doesn’t help. He’s all mischievous eyes and knowing smiles, pressing a kiss to both of your knees as he rests his chin on them. 

“I can make it easier for you,” he says, fingers finding a soft crease in your hip and stroking along it. “Give you something for the nerves, for any pain. I’ll only let you feel good here with me.” 

You take two more grounding breaths and ease the pressure on your knees.

“”Sorry, I’m just���no one’s ever…” you say, but before you can explain your woeful inexperience he’s wedging his way between your legs and holding your thighs open in his firm tight grip. 

“I’m the first to taste this forbidden fruit?” he asks, and you clench involuntarily. He waits as you gather yourself enough to nod. A deep, dark chuckle falls from his lips. “Starlet, you have no idea what you’re in for tonight.”

The question claws up your throat but no sooner has he glanced at your pussy he’s diving in to press his tongue deep and sweeping through your folds. The velvet slither arches your back off the bed, a strangled cry earning a satisfied hum between your legs.

“Holy shit, Dieter, oh my god,” you rasp as he flicks his tongue in fast swipes over your clit. It’s foreign and taboo, so much wetter and softer than your fingers and you can barely stop your hips from bucking into his mouth. One hand presses you down to the bed, his chin tilting up to catch your eye. Slick shines his mouth, and your pussy throbs when you realize his eyes are the shiny black of nightmares and creatures used to the dark. 

“No god here, sweetheart. Only me. Only take my name in vain,” he growls, and the rush of blood in your ears speeds up when you realize the hand pressed on your abdomen spans the width of your hips. Black-tipped claws indent the flesh, prickling your skin just shy of pain. Dipping low again, Dieter swirls at your entrance and prods in, nose pressed tight to the button of your pleasure. The supple stretch is unfamiliar, pulling at a primal need to let him fill you. It tightens your thighs and shudders you against him as he forces you down again, the bite of claws a sharper warning. His jaw doesn’t stop, plunging and delving into you as deep as he can manage. 

“Dieter, it’s never…oh fuck, it’s never felt this good before, please…please, I can’t stand it,” you beg, a rush of slick coating his tongue. Now a true snarl seeds your cunt, and in the charcoal dark his silhouette thickens, shoulders broadening under your knees. He pushes you further up the bed, pulling even greater cries from your chest. Dragging his tongue from your sopping hole, he sucks greedily on your clit, hands wrapped around your waist to lift you half off the bed. Suspended and flowing with arousal, your hands unclench from the sheets and circle his wrists. The skin is hot under your palms, and they dig deeper in at your scrabbling touch. It’s not enough, so with a boldness you pull from a dizzying depth you bury your fingers in his curls. 

At first touch they’re soft. Long enough to wind around your fingers. You give a gentle tug and swear you feel a shudder around you. But as you bury them deeper another sensation tickles your palm. Something unyielding and curved, smooth like bone. Two protrusions fit in the webbing of your thumb and forefinger, short enough that the blunt tip brushes your knuckles. Horns, you think. A demon is eating me out and he has horns. And where you might have tried to wake yourself from a nightmare at this thought, instead you wrap your fingers around them and tug.

Like lightning something changes in Dieter. His lips tear from you with a roar that fills the room, your mind, spreading like forest fire and drying your mouth out. You hold on as he drops you back to the bed, the sound still ripping from his throat. Then there’s pain, supernova-like in intensity and scorching through arousal and fear. Your eyes snap down to Dieter’s mouth, but it’s no longer defiling your pussy. It’s clamped hard on your inner thigh, air puffing sharply through his nose. The pain radiates, and you realize he’s bit you. Not an overzealous love bite, you can feel the puncture of incisors and pump of blood into his mouth, the same pattern as your racing heart. Your hands release his horns, pushing you up as your mouth drops open in horror. 

“Dieter,” you gasp, but with his horns released the pressure abates. His eyes open slowly, catching your terrified face. The curve of his brow morphs from surprise to apology to determination. Then a thumb presses firmly to your clit and circles it, washing pain away with pleasure teetering right on the edge. His fangs remain in your thigh as you stare at him, incredulity on your face but pleasure rocking your hips. He adds pressure to the bite again, speeding up his fingers as your brain struggles to differentiate one from the other. 

Then, just as your spine begins tingling and your fingers go numb, one slick finger penetrates your cunt, smooth and deep, barely noticeable compared to the symphony of sensations. Like a reward, Dieter gives you the final stroke that crashes your orgasm over him, slamming you back to the bed as pain and pleasure and shame and exhilaration floods your brain. You barely register Dieter’s jaw releasing, fingers working you through your orgasm as the slow laps of his tongue lull you back to your body. Every muscle quivers, attempts to sit up failing twice before you manage to come up to your elbows. 

Between your legs Dieter is pressing devotions to the spot he bit, open-mouthed kisses with peeks of tongue soothing the injury. His finger is still inside, a lazy caress of your walls foreign but not unpleasant. Finally he lifts up to his knees and turns his attention back to your face.

“I’m sorry, starlet, you got me a little too riled up there. I’ve fixed it, but you might be sore tomorrow.” A bloom of teeth circle your inner thigh, but no blood oozes out. You felt the pop, felt him inside you, and somehow he’s taken it back. “Can’t have you injured because of me, not very professional.”

“I hope it stays,” you pant, fingertips tracing the dark marks. The tenderness arcs down your spine. 

“Fuck, you’re made for sin, starlet,” Dieter purrs, and now your attention can turn back to him. Grounding yourself with a healthy, “oh fuck,” is the only way you can fathom what he’s become.

He towers over you even kneeling, broad body only more tantalizing as he’s grown in stature. The well-known triangle tattoos you’d seen in paparazzi photos are joined by swirling patterns up and down his arms, concentric rings and text you can’t read patterning his skin. Where only wild curls were before now jut two smooth horns, curved away from his face and looking suspiciously similar to a goat’s. His skin almost steams in the room, wisps of smoke or condensation haloing his silhouette like an ominous aura. 

Then his hand flexes again and you realize how full you are with just one finger inside, even observing how thick and wicked they’ve become.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, and there’s only a hint of teasing now as he works his finger inside.

“It’s…okay,” you gasp, staring at the place where you’re connected. His thumb ghosts over your clit again, but so soon after your high it’s over sensitive, making you hiss and tremble. 

“Shhh, starlet, just relax. Thought it would be better to take advantage of the pain.” With a final stroke that lights up your nerves he slips out, holding his fingers up for you to see. They’re wet with your arousal and a little blood, a lot less than you thought. “Now that’s out of the way, we can take our time giving you the best fuck of your life.” With a knowing smile, he pops his fingers into his mouth and licks them clean. 

“Fuck, you really are…an incubus,” you say, acquainting yourself with the dull ache of your loss. There isn’t much fanfare, no swelling of emotion. If anything, breaking your hymen is probably the least memorable part of your night. Dieter’s smile falters briefly, and in a dizzying turn of events he shrinks back, closing in on himself. Ducking his head, you might think he was embarrassed, or shy. It looks stranger than the horns on him.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Touching the horns got me a little too worked up. Let me open you up on my fingers for a little while longer, that’ll give me enough time to…change back.” His smile is sheepish now, hands roaming your thighs and stomach. Instead of the skin-crawling terror you thought that would instill, you’re practically preening under his touch.

“Is this you? This form?” you ask, and you let your boldness move to your hands. You stroke your fingertips over his, investigating the smoothness of his claws, how the joints of his fingers are more pronounced than yours. He scoffs an uncomfortable laugh.

“Uh yeah, mostly. But you’ll have a lot more fun bragging that you lost your virginity to THE Dieter Bravo,” he redirects, shaking his head like he’s annoyed he’s not that man yet. 

In your brief and paltry handful of intimate moments, you never considered yourself bold. You’d let men touch you until your discomfort was too much, or your embarrassment pulled to the forefront. You never asked for the touches you enjoyed, or sought out the pleasures you dreamed of. But now, with a creature that’s endearingly vulnerable before you, your voice is finally strong enough to be heard.

“I’d like you to stay this way,” you say. Sitting up further, you skim your hands up his arms to cup his face. Your touch snarls his lip briefly before he settles.

“You can’t handle that, starlet. I’ve kept my human form reasonable, but you will not be able to take my cock,” Dieter husks. Tugging your wrist down to his waist, you palm him through fabric barely able to contain him. Thick and long in your hand, he drops his head and thrusts against you and gets bigger.

“Ruin me, then,” you whisper, filthy and naive into his ear. “I’ve waited all this time, saved myself for no one but you. Make me take no lover but you. Make me pray to you for ecstasy.” Leaning in to the metaphor rewards you. With a dangerous rumble he pushes you flat on your back, one hand wrapped around your throat.

“You want this, starlet? All of it?” he grits out, sickening cracks and pops echoing in the room. His hips force yours wide, planting his other hand by your head and carefully watching your face. The shine of his fangs whips your heart into a gallop, more ink dancing on his skin as he transforms from something beautiful to something magnificent. The room darkens perplexingly until you realize wings spread from his shoulders, thin light gleaming through the stretched web of skin. His aura crackles with molten motes, a whiff of fire and smoke making a home in your lungs. When he looks back at you, half familiar and half transcendent, his roguish smile brings one to your lips.

“Strange little thing, wet and ready for me,” he croons, removing his hand from your throat. A rip of stitching signals he’s as nude as you are now, and your eyes widen when the heavy length of his cock rests on your mound, curving past your navel and thicker than your hand can circle. 

“Say you want Dieter Bravo back, and I’ll have just as much fun wrecking you in that form,” he says, but there’s something cautious between you now. A shimmer of anxiety and distrust. You’re holding a thread of something truer than he intended to give you, and if you drop it you’ll never find it again.

“Can you help me make it feel good?” you ask, sliding your palms along his chest. Without proper pupils it’s hard to track his expression, but you think it’s awestruck.

“Of course, starlet. You’ve learned to cum from pleasure and pain, but I won’t have you suffer more than necessary.” Dieter leans down and cups your head, bringing your nose to his neck right where it meets his shoulder. “Breathe,” he instructs, and you inhale deep. Below the smoke and heat you smell sweet new earth, lush and fruitful. It makes your mouth water, clutching at his shoulders as he begins rocking his hips against yours. His monstrous cock slips in the wet mess between your legs, slicking the underside generously.

“Fuck, you arousal is so delicious, I could taste you for centuries,” Dieter whispers. Lifting up, he smiles at your dazed expression and wandering hands. They trace his features, lingering on his lips. “How are you feeling now?” 

You want him inside you, filling you up to bursting, to breaking. The need is hotter, all-encompassing. It’s surety that he won’t hurt you, that you’ll be shown pleasure beyond anything you’ve experienced. It’s lust but also trust. 

“Can you kiss me?” is what you say, and Dieter’s smile is a touch softer before he leans down and claims your lips. 

You swear you hear a hiss when he touches you, his skin scorching but not enough to burn. Parting his lips and nudging your jaw open, he traces the inside of your lower one with the tip of his tongue. One hand cups the back of your head, cradling you to his mouth, and with a forbidden thrill you realize his hands are now large enough that his fingertips caress the perimeter of your face. The threatening pressure of claws in your skin arcs arousal back in your cunt, winding your fingers into the curls at the base of his neck.

“Tell me if it hurts,” he orders, and with a magnificent beat of bat wings his silhouette glows with dancing light much like a breath sparking fire to life. The warm hue of his human skin has gilded to gold, tattoos moving along the dips and peaks of his body. Eyes black and fathomless, his smile is a lifeboat in a raging ocean. He lets the heavy weight of his tongue wet his lower lip as your eyes widen, hefty cock lifting from your mound to press at your entrance. Scrabbling fear overtakes you, and you clutch at Dieter’s shoulders as the pressure mounts. 

“Again, starlet,” he croons, but his voice is the rumbling of great stones moving over one another as you inhale deep of his scent. Cool water pours through your limbs, easing your muscles and letting your legs drop open wide. His other hand presses at your lower back and arches you off the bed, resting your thighs atop his own. Then, with a controlled push his head breaches you, wrenching a wrecked moan from deep in your chest. He stops as soon as he’s engulfed in your heat, the only betrayal of his own state residing in the long exhale of breath that tickles across your chest.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. Tell me if you need me to stop,” he grits out, but you shake your head and roll your hips. It’s sloppy, inexperienced, but he moves ever so slightly within you and it punches a groan from between Dieter’s clenched teeth. 

“Please, Dieter, more,” you beg, his claws tightening around you again. Another measured advance, another wail, more snarling and groaning from the creature stuffing himself inside you. Whatever aphrodisiac he’s fed you is working magnificently. You’re full, the pressure intense, but the pain is dull and quiet. He’s watching where you’re joined so closely, stretched obscenely around his cock, waiting for your thighs to unclench before backing out and pressing deeper in. 

“Touch your clit,” he gasps, “Rub that pretty clit so you can take all of me.”

Your fingers are nowhere as decadent as his tongue but they pull bursts of ecstasy close to the surface. Venturing a look down, you’re dismayed to see he’s barely halfway there, so much more of his pulsing cock still to take. He already feels like he’s in your stomach, battering against your lungs. Tears spring to your eyes, lower lip wobbling.

“It’s not going to work,” you whisper, and even with the knowledge that Dieter could turn human at any point you still wallow in the rejection you anticipate. Not good enough for anyone, not even the person you called for.

“Shhh,” Dieter soothes, easing you back down to the bed. He tugs over pillows to tuck under your hips before covering you with his body, still looking in your eyes even at his towering height. “Breathe. Do you want me to stop? I can let you rest, change back to my human form. If you can take all of this…” His hips twitch forward, a soft cry tumbling out. “...then you can take my human cock perfectly.” With a tenderness your eyes water for, he strokes his thumb along your cheek. “Do you want me to stop?”

It’s already so much, so intense and mind-blowing, but you can’t help yourself. 

“I want all of it, Dieter,” you say, consequences be damned.

Much in the same way touching his horns unleashed something in Dieter, hearing those words unlocks something even more primal and greedy in his face. Dropping down to his elbows, he presses your face against his neck. 

“Bite,” he orders, the word igniting every pleasure center in your body. “Hard, starlet, give me one as good as I gave you.” The words are barely out before you sink your teeth into the crook of his neck, but instead of blood or other ichor you’re flooded with pleasure. The sensation rips an orgasm out of you, hips bucking on his cock. You register Dieter pulling out to the tip before slamming his hips into yours, seating himself fully inside your throbbing cunt. You don’t know how your body makes room for him, how you’re not screaming (well, maybe screaming some), but he’s inside you and littering your body with, “oh fuck, oh fuuuuucks” as he swirls his hips. 

“I did it,” you coo in pleasure-dipped delirium, head flopping back on a pillow as Dieter starts thrusting into you in slow passes.

“You sure fucking did sweetheart, look at that perfect pussy taking my monster cock,” he praises, now sliding along your clit with focus. The overstimulation rolls right into desire again as your cunt learns how to gorge itself on pleasure. 

“It feels…good,” you say, bearing down on his thrusts to meet him with a little more force. He purrs in admiration, starting to speed up ever so slightly. 

“Yeah? Like how good you feel all stuffed full?” Dieter asks but it’s nonsense now, his focus pulling between your face and his cock pumping in and out of you. There’s a little more pain now, places where his cock brushes that zip sharp up your spine, but it’s far from unpleasant. In fact, you might like it. Maybe really like it. 

“More, Dieter. Want to feel you. Please,” you moan, restraint flickering in Dieter’s eyes. 

“Fuck, baby, you can’t say shit like that when I’m so deep in you, I won’t be able to…” His thought falls off as his thrusts speed up, a little more force at the end each time. It’s kissing at something devastating inside, something clawing its way to the surface through years of shame and dread.

“Please Dieter, I’ll beg for it. I’ll…” Your brain wraps around a wicked idea. “I’ll pray for it.”

That does the trick. Dieter’s lips curl back in a snarl as he rears up to his knees, wings spreading to fill the room with only him. Hands gripping your hips, he looks down at you not like a lover, but like a fallen god. 

“Then do it, starlet,” he challenges. His smile is cool, but his cock twitches in your cunt. You have him. 

“Glory be to you, Dieter,” you say, and hellfire light erupts around him. Dragging himself out of your cunt, he holds tight as a bowstring.

“And to your…fucking massive cock,” you continue, eyes rolling back as he fills you to the brim. “And to your true form, in all its beauty,” you add, softer now, drawing his eyes back up to you. Time hangs as he studies your face before dipping down and sealing your lips with a kiss that means too much for words. When he lifts away you finish the prayer.

“As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be.”

Dieter’s smile glints.

“A-fucking-men,” he rasps, giving you just enough time to press your hands against the headboard before he starts railing you. 

You’re lost in pleasure and ache and sin and Dieter pounding recklessly into your cunt. His grip paints bruises along your waist, battering thighs marking the inside of your hips. His claws dig into your flesh and sharp scrapes tighten your nipples. Hands roam up over your breasts, around your neck, pressing your wrists into the bed as ominous splintering and cracks echo in your ears. 

“Another before I cum on your tits, sweetheart,” he pants, spitting down onto your clit and circling it with vigor. You cry out, hips bucking as the thickness of his cock impedes on your quivering walls. “It’s so close baby, just cum around me. Let me feel you cum on all my cock this time.” 

“I can’t,” you cry out, shaking and sobbing around him. Dieter tuts, his rapidly increasing slap-slap-slap of thrusts maddening. 

“You can, and you will starlet. You didn’t think you’d take my cock. I didn’t think you’d take it, and look at you now. So you’re going to cum. You’re going to cum now.”

The order shakes the room, pictures rattling on the wall as a final flick hurtles you off into oblivion with Dieter’s roaring triumph right behind. He’s somehow still fucking his cock into you even though you’re so tight it almost hurts to be cumming so good. A final crackling roar and you’re achingly empty, followed by a hot splash of cum across your stomach. Then another cresting your breast, and more and more until you’re covered in it, sticky trails sliding to pool in your bellybutton and drip over your sides onto the covers. Dieter is gasping above you, glowing like a sacred artifact as he pumps the last drops from his cock. 

You close your eyes once and it’s a mistake. As soon as you let your eyelids touch exhaustion grips you, fighting your desperate attempts to reopen them. It’s battling this bone-deep tired when you experience Dieter’s return to a human form. The horns receding, tattoos fading to just the ones that grace tabloid pages. The wings fold away, and soon a sexy as hell rumpled and soft body replaces the supernatural one. 

“Wore you out, starlet?” Dieter Bravo asks, kneeling between your parted knees with a rakish smile. You try to return it with a nod but your whole body is heavy, the mess barely bothering you. Dieter hums thoughtfully, and in a few moments a warm washcloth is cleaning up his cum.

“Side effect of my influence, helps a lot in the moment but it’s got some pretty strong sedative properties. Good for a speedy exit.” His chuckle sounds faraway now, even as you try to clutch at it.

“Stay,” you manage to croak out, hands seeking his body. You find his hair again, nose buried in your sex as he licks softly at your folds. The building ache there creeps back down to something dull and manageable.

“Our contract is up, can’t stay once you’ve given me what I’m owed.” Dieter’s lips start leaving small kisses along your abdomen, fingers soothing your skin. “Even if it was very, very good.”

“Please,” you try again, racking your rapidly puttying mind for anything to keep his hands on you. 

“Even when you say it so sweetly,” Dieter says, but there’s melancholy now. It glances off your fingertips as sleep pulls you under. 

In the between world of dreams, you think he says something more to you, but Morpheus snatches it away. 

Hail, starlet, full of grace, Dieter is with thee. 

This might be the silliest thing I’ve ever…well, hmm…

Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, all those delectable orgasms you gave me.

Holy starlet, bringer of…something special.

Pray for this sinner.

There’s blood on your sheets when you wake, though less than you expected. There’s also less pain, though the ache takes your breath away when you sit up too fast. Hobbling to the bathroom with the cool pink of morning light guiding, you inspect your body in the mirror. 

You don’t look much different than before. Some strange notion of losing your virginity making you suddenly appear “mature” is dashed away. Maybe there’s a little glint of a secret in your eye, but not much more. Actually, surprisingly not much more. You expected bruises, scratches along your body and love bites marring your landscape. Instead your canvas is unblemished, no marks or injuries to hide. It’s almost as if he’d never been there.

Sitting down on the toilet, you wonder if maybe he wasn’t. That you dreamt up debauchery due to food poisoning or someone spiking the punch at the Halloween party. You couldn’t possibly have summoned an incubus. 

A dark mark inside your thigh catches your attention, and any doubts dissipate. A ring of teeth, four larger fangs prominent, marrs the inside of your thigh. Brushing your fingertips over the circle, the skittering thrill of those memories settle in your chest. 

You ride on the endorphins for a few days, a handful of people noticing. A work friend tries to interrogate you on it but “a lady never tells” is a saucy enough reply for her to give an approving look. You buy a new bed online, the base of yours splintered to ruin, but you keep the cracked headboard like a souvenir.

Online dating doesn’t seem as daunting now that you’re not so worried about the dreaded “first time.” You even accept a few dates, meet some generally nice men with generally boring personalities. They don’t make your heart race like a certain celebrity whose name you googled briefly before slamming your laptop shut. They certainly don’t kiss like him, or make sexy little jokes or terrify you as much as intrigue you. 

So for a while you try to move on. There’s no other option, right? Dieter Bravo the Movie Star would never give you a second thought. Dieter Bravo the Incubus surely has better things to do, more lascivious living. So you try to find something even remotely like what you felt that night.

It’s mid-November when you find yourself sitting on your living room floor again, piece of chalk in hand. You lit candles this time, bought black lace lingerie, made yourself up to feel pretty. It doesn’t help your shaking hands as you pull the rug off the summoning circle. Touching up a few spots, you settle by the broken line where you released Dieter. It all popped off when you completed the circle last time, so with a deep breath and a swipe of the chalk, you reconnect the chalk.

And you wait.

And wait.

A bulb in a lamp flickers but it’s brief. An errant breeze almost snuffs out a candle. But nothing happens. Your knees are sore, eyes watering but you blink the tears away. 

It was a long shot, you have to admit. A fluke chance, never to be repeated. You’ll have to settle for something bland, safe, loving but…

Nothing like Dieter.

You’re about to get up from the floor when one other idea tempts you. Something you thought he might have said before leaving you ruined.

Pray for this sinner.

Clasping your hands in your lap, you close your eyes and take a deep breath. 

It’s been a long time since you last prayed.

“Dieter…” you whisper. The fine hairs on your neck rise up, but you press on.

“Dieter, I pray to thee,” you continue, closing your eyes. “Come to me in my hour of need.”

A pause, then a final entreaty. “Please.”

A rumble creeps into your body, tiny puffs of candles snuffing out reaching your ears. You dare not open your eyes yet, too hopeful for disappointment. Instead you wait, and hope.

A hot hand, thick fingered and human, slides up your chest, over your throat and cups your chin. Relief floods your body, melting back against a solid chest and chuckling lips.

“Hello, starlet,” Dieter croons in your ear, wrapping his arm around your waist and tucking his head into the crook of your neck. Your fingers search for curls, burying in his hair as you lace your fingers with his.

“You came,” you breathe, sparks igniting on your skin as he presses a line of kisses from your shoulder to your ear.

“How could I not, when you prayed so sweetly?” he teases, tugging you back to sit in the cradle of his crossed legs. “Smart of you to try the circle, but outside of all hallow’s eve you don’t have access to enough power for that trick.”

“But you came,” you repeat, turning your face into Dieter’s ministrations. He nips at the side of your jaw, soothing it with his lips before murmuring a confession into your skin.

“I hoped you would call again.”

A thick emotion swells in your chest, and you spin in his grasp to crash your mouths together. The momentum knocks him backwards to the floor, letting you straddle his waist and feast on his ample lips. His hands roam your back, reverent in their paths. When you break to suck in lungfuls of sweet air he leans up to mouth at your neck, possessive hand on your ass urging you to grind against him.

“Have you let anyone else fuck you?” he growls. To your delight the anxiety and trepidation that colored your first encounter is nowhere in sight. You smile wolfishly down at him.

“How could I? You’ve ruined me for any man,” you tease, and under your body he writhes, the whites of his eyes trading for inky black. “Plus, one time is hardly enough to know if I even like sex. I’ve barely begun to explore.”

The fangs flash between his kiss-swollen lips, and under the promise of any delight you desire you glimpse the even more exciting fondness that will draw you back to him again and again.

“Then we have a lot of work to do.”

END

Crawlin' back to you Ever thought of callin' when You've had a few? 'Cause I always do Maybe I'm too Busy bein' yours To fall for somebody new Now, I've thought it through

The Arctic Monkeys, "Do I Wanna Know?"

[milla-frenchy]

Recs | February 25

February readings ❤️

Please, rb the fics you appreciated, that's how they live ❤️🙏

Check the warnings before reading, some of the fics are very dark

Joel Miller

Give me hell @aurorawritestoescape

you come home drunk and Joel isn’t happy. He decides to teach you a lesson

Naughty thoughts @aurorawritestoescape

you’re failing Prof. Miller’s class and he finds a punishment for you

BDSMaid epilogue @mountainsandmayhem

After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love

Sweet nothing @schnarfer

You're in a long distance relationship with Joel Miller and tonight is your last night together for a while. Let's make it a memorable one

Like a stuffed whore @pedge-page

You're one of a million stuffed animals manufactured every year. What happens when you meet the love of your life...and he's Joel Miller?

Take it easy @magpiepills

you’re a virgin with a crush on your best friends dad and you’re determined to make him your first

Just this once @punkshort

After yet another argument with your dad, his buddy across the street is there to help make you feel better

You oughta know @yxtkiwiyxt

You and Joel return from a double date, and you find out he’s jealous of your colleague, Frankie

How to disappear @weirdfangirly

you put yourself in a bad situation by trusting a complete stranger in order to escape your shitty reality just to find yourself in hell

Safe and sound chapt 5 @guiltyasdave

An injured Joel and Ellie stumble into your home in the middle of the night. Against your better judgement, you decide to help them.

We shouldn't have done that @yxtkiwiyxt

It's been a while since you've seen Joel, not since that 'moment' that happened between you two. Now, you have to face him when Sarah calls you in a panic, asking for a ride from a party because her friends are too drunk to drive.

dbf!joel imagine @probablyreadinsmut

Okay I love me some Dbf!Joel but what if the daughter in question was early to mid thirties, recently divorced and living back at home with her parents for the first time since college?

Javier Peña

The file room @magpiepills

Love me like a loaded gun @joelmillerisapunk

Javier Peña is a man who never stays, but that doesn’t stop him from showing up at your door, seeking solace in the only way he knows how

Post-it note pursuit @iknowisoundcrazy

someone in the office has been leaving you post-it notes

Guessing game @baronessvonglitter

Your stepfather is a DEA agent. When he finds drugs in your room you have to find a way to keep yourself out of trouble

Blurred lines @yxtkiwiyxt

Your eyeglasses break in the middle of a coffee shop, leaving you struggling to see. A kind stranger offers to help you home. Once you reach home and put on your spare glasses, you catch a clearer glimpse of your 'savior'...

The slip up part 1 | part 2 @pascalssbabyy

Two years you had worked with Javier Peña, and it had been two years since your attraction to him started. What happens when at a work party you accidentally slip your secret to the man himself?

Jealousy, jealousy @javierpena-inatacvest

Your brothers take you and Javi out to a local bar when you're home to visit. When you run into one of your old childhood friends, Javi can't help but feel jealous

Complicated @ovaryacted

You begin to realize Javier's position at the DEA is putting a wedge in your marriage. It was only a matter of time before everything you've built crumbled once you reached your breaking point

Visitation @gothcsz

Javier visits you in prison after putting you in there

Wandering hands @gothcsz

Javi can't keep his hands off you during a dinner with some friends

Cherry on top @wethairjoel

The morning commute part 2 @iknowisoundcrazy

in the midst of escobar’s desperate war for control in colombia, your morning commute is disrupted when you find yourself tangled up in his latest bomb threat

Make them kiss @aurorawritestoescape

yeah, we’re riding that boot, bbs!

Din Djarin

The mirage of a goodbye @sawymredfox

Forgiveness and healing are heavy words. They come with a price, one that may be life-changing tonight

Frankie Morales

Eyes on the road @iamasaddie

Take it off @604to647

You host Frankie and the TF boys for The Big Game and are given a choice of which team's jersey to wear

Clint

Hold my hand @aurorawritestoescape

you have good news for Clint and it seems that you two are ready for another big step in your relationship

Big boy @itwasntimethatdidit40

You enter a video rental shop looking for something spicy and end up finding the best fuck you've ever had

Reed Richards

Irreversible @itwasntimethatdidit40

You get fucked against the blackboard by your hottest professor

Multi p boys/threesome

Like a boy does @magpiepills (tess x reader x joel)

Tess teaches something about yourself

Double lovin' @iamasaddie (lucien x reader x dieter)

You doomed yourself to spend Valentine's day alone, buried in blankets and sobbing over Bridgit Jones' love story, but a surprise visit from Lucien and his friend turns your plans to waste

Perfect match @aurorawritestoescape (dieter x reader x marcus p)

Dieter becomes a face of a dating app and meets you and your husband while shooting an ad for it. Feeling an immense attraction, he invites you both to his penthouse, planning to enjoy the night and you to the fullest

The condom @toxicanonymity (javi x reader x steve)

Baby I'm a want you @perotovar (re read ✨) (javi p x joel, javi p x shane, joel x dieter, din x dieter)

javier peña has been doing this a long time. he's really good at his job. joel miller? not so much. he started doing this to get some extra cash to support his daughters. what happens when they're supposed to do a scene together? aka, the au where javier and joel are gay porn stars~

Crack fics

Vamp diary @thebrothel (vamp!joel)

Incident report @thebrothel (slasher!joel)

Take it @thebrothel (nightwalks!joel)

Sleepy girl @thebrothel (raider!joel)

Girls sleepover @thebrothel

Basement interlude @thebrothel (vamp & nw)

My writing

Shameless (lucien x reader)

you ask Lucien to come over and he does exactly what you need him to

Fics recs

[pedrosyouknowwhat]

Miller's

Summary: Do exactly as your told.

warnings: Dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, mentions of anal, kissing, dark, violence, restraints, dark dark but not that dark, fear play.

Pairings: Dark! Joel Miller x reader, Dark! Javier Peña x reader, Dark! Marcus Acacius x reader, Dark! Oberyn Martell x reader, Dark! Agent Whiskey x reader, Dark! Dieter Bravo x reader, Dark! Frankie Morales x reader

Series Masterlist

Joel Miller was a man turned to stone by time; he held that reminder close to his heart, wrapped around his wrist in the form of a cracked watch.

He barely got the feeling of adrenaline these days; his past heavy and numbing of his senses. He wasn't living anymore, instead-surviving.

No use on being nice, trading, adjusting to a community. He had gathered men like him, broken down and restless, and with them he had gotten everything he needed; food, guns and sometimes women.

Like any other spoil of war, they were quickly discarded. Mercy, Joel said it was, despite not knowing the concept fully. He found himself not finding the usual pleasure in his relief, turning sour, depraved.

He thought himself broken when he found more pleasure in death than in sex; anger simmering in him, about to pop. He felt his cock throb at the idea of destroying a community, the riches he could take; oh, how much could he take from them, just like the world had taken from him.

Your snotty community was the peak of his climax. Feral stray, huh? he had never encountered a group that deserved to reap what they sowed so much. And thus, when Javier appeared, carrying a spawn of all that hatred, he felt once more what was hidden deep in his loins- desire.

At first he thought your naivety was a gimmick; a way to squeal and cry your way out, but the irony hit him a tad too late. You were exactly the daughter of such a place, as weak and pathetic as someone raised there can be.

It wouldn't stick like that, not under his roof- the idea of giving you a pang of reality made his cock weep. Fuck, molding you into the perfect submissive slut? he could almost come undone in his pants.

He dueled upon sharing you, but he knew it was for the better. Having such tempting little thing right under his men's noses and not allowing them to have you was like putting a loaded gun on the table and turning off the lights. They'd explode all over you.

He wished he at least had thought about it better, as he sipped his morning coffee; the idea of you sprawled beneath Acacius sent a pang of jealousy. Five more days to have you back in his bed.

He could differ upon his previous statement, he thought, after the week had passed. Have you tied up, keep you mewling in his bed. Perhaps one day you'd learn to like it, but fuck, that was a miracle he was waiting to happen.

And then a miracle did occur. Like a fallen angel, escaping from God's wrath, you appeared into the living room. Messy hair and bruises all over your perfect body, your legs wobbling; the sight of you naked would be his death, he sighed. And then he locked in, realizing what actually was happening.

Your hesitant eyes searched around the men, too distraught in the suddenness to move. Your legs moved quickly, bouncing against the hardwood floors as you flung yourself to his arms.

Startled, the cup in Catfish’s hand shook then dipped, coffee spilling into the floor. His arm came to cradle your back, as you pressed your bare body to his side.

“H-He wanted to…there.” You panted; the thundering steps were followed by Acacius. Joel’s eyes widened at his shape; a hand cradling over his face, blood spilling down onto his shirt and the tip of his cock peeking out of his boxers. But his eyes were enough to know, the deep fury they hid in pools of darkness.

“I should cut off your hands for that!” He bellowed, and you pulled yourself impossibly closer to Catfish. Ripping his hand off his face, Joel could see the inflamed skin of around his nose, nostrils flaring with drying blood.

You were almost climbing Catfish as the room went silent, only your puffy sobs breaking in the air. Joel decided to put his foot down, uncertainty and the scent of something wrong forcing his face into a scowl.

“What is happening?” He asked, voice low and hard. You whimpered, eyes darting between him and the enraged Acacius. He sneered at you, a glint of delight in all of this.

“She fucking hit me.”

You whimpers grew as Joel rose to his feet, dark eyes set on you. Excitement dinged at his cock. How scared you looked, and on top of that-naked. It all brought him adrenaline that hid behind the growing storm of his rage.

“thought you remembered what happened the last time you hit one of my men.”

Your whole body trembled with fear, and you attempted to hide yourself behind Catfish. His grip loosened on you, as if giving you a warning-that he couldn’t protect you.

“He-He wanted to put it…in my-in my ass!” You sobbed hysterically, your face flushing as you uttered the words.

Acacius glared, unashamed of such intimacy being told. Joel’s brow cocked in amusement, when would you learn?

His hands came to prop at his hips, body thick and menacing as he spoke with such easiness. “Have you forgotten your place?”

Your head shook, not in denial, but as if you were shaking yourself awake from a horrible nightmare.

“Catfish, move.” He ordered, but you felt his muscles tense beneath you, holding him still. “She needs to punished.”

He wouldn’t budge, and you felt his redemption in the careful hand he used to press your face to his chest, clothed and warm and scented.

“You expect her not to react?” He bit, ironically.

Joel’s lips curled into a faux smile; fuck, if giving his men a taste of you would make them rebel, he would have kept you to himself.

“Catfish.” Whiskey groaned, voice a threat as he leaned over the kitchen counter. “Move; you don’t wanna get the Boss in your bad side.”

He didn’t, Joel could tell by the fear in his eyes; fear that made him feel powerful. But despite his adam apple bobbing as he swallowed down, his body twisted to shelter you from the hungry, dark gaze of his peers.

“She is scared.” He argued.

Joel sighed, fighting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “She wouldn’t be if she fucking behaved.”

Your whimper was muffled against the dark material of his shirt, brown darker from soaking your tears. It ignited something feral in Joel; but he breathed in, controlling the urge to drag you by the hair back to the room.

“Can’t blame her,” Joel muttered with some sincerity in his tone; the men around him searched for further enlightenment as they stared at him. “little pretentious, virgin pussy,” he tsked. “hasn’t been taught possibly anythin’ about sex and just like that, has to please seven cocks, perhaps have I been too greedy on that, haven’t I, puppy?”

Your mouth went dry as you peeked at him through Catfish’s broad shoulders. His gaze had softened upon you, etched with an unfamiliar understanding in his wide puppy dog eyes. You nodded, timidly.

He exhaled, arms raising into the air with some kind of resignation. Despite relaxing, Joel was keen on your every move, how your grasp on your saviour lessened as your eyes darted to him, and how your chest became heaving less rapidly.

“We haven’t been particularly nice to our little puppy,” He recognized, but his tone sent a shiver down your spine; the sudden softness uncanny. “fuck, we haven’t taught her anythin’! how can we-how can we even have the audacity to expect her to take it like a pro?”

You froze, unaware of the web he was weaving, scared of what he truly meant. With a sly grin, he pressed a hand to his chest and extended the other to you.

“I’m giving you your first chance at redemption, alright puppy?” He pressed, hand beckoning. “You come here, we go back to the room and solve this like adults, or you keep cowering behind your white knight and I’ll get over there, and you won’t like what happens next.”

The sweetness of his tone didn’t match the heaviness of his words. Joel struggled with the act, but it was for the better. Your squealing and squirming would only cause him a head ache so early in the morning.

You stayed still, hidden behind Catfish. Gazes tensed over you, expecting, analyzing, hungry. Joel cleared his throat, the arm he had outstretched growing heavy as the smile he held dissipating. Come on, crack.

You couldn’t believe your eyes, the warmth of Joel’s gesture doing little more than sending an icy chill down your spine. An invitation, or perhaps a trap, to behave.

You felt Catfish’s muscles rhythmically tense and un-tense under your fingertips, his breathe furrow and deep. The hand he had stuck to the side begun wavering, as he begun giving up on the possibility of protecting you.

Fuck, what could you expect? for him to suddenly became your Savior? He was no better than them, and you needed to get that through your skull.

So when he twisted on his ankle, you already knew he was living you bare for the wolves in front of you.

And probably, how his mouth went to your ear was to mutter a pitiful sorry, right?

No.

“Do exactly as you are told,” He whispered, pressing a kiss by your cheekbone; a rouse. “I’ll get you out of here.”

You stood stoically still as he pulled away from you. Your eyes met Joel, however his view was more entrance in licking you up from your feet to your chest. Despite Catfish’s words, you couldn’t help the need to weight out your options.

If you behaved, like he said, it probably wouldn’t be that bad. You didn’t know, you had never truly behaved for them, never truly submitted fully.

If you didn’t, you would be punished; and that you knew about, your hair still stung at places from Joel’s grip.

But another alternative popped in your mind; what if you were free?

The warmth of the hopeful dream overcasted momentarily the reality of it all. You’d be free, but have no where else to go and no knowledge of the world outside your community. You’d be dead in two weeks tops.

For a second you wondered if there was a worse one; death by clickers or death by cock.

"I don't have all day, puppy." He drawled playfully, but the darkness still lingered in his tongue; infernal.

You placed one feet in front of the other, the hardwood cold on your bare feet as you walked to your demise. You stood, as naked as the day you were born, in front of your godly judge; bareness had become usual for you, as was wearing his men's scratches and bites as another layer of clothes.

His outstretched hand came to cradle the back of your neck, a lazy, triumphant grin elating in his face. His touch for once seemed tender; though Marcus glare did not ease at the corner of your eyes.

"There, good puppy." Joel muttered, eyes lost in your glossy, disheveled expression. "Now give me a big kiss."

It surprised you as much as it had done when Javier wanted a kiss, in the tub almost two days ago. It felt like such an intimate thing, it made butterflies swim in your belly. Fuck, this is so wrong.

You looked up, through wet lashes, lower lip trembling nervously. You stood up in the balls of your feet, hands coming to rest at his chest for support as you pressed your lips to his. A peck.

No, Joel wanted more; the grip on your nape tightened, forcing you to stumble against his solid front as he mouthed at you, tongue sloppily claiming yours. You whimpered, and he pulled away, leaving you breathless and pressed against him.

"Now, give Marcus a kiss and tell him you are sorry." He groaned, and you felt small.

Do exactly as your told.

Joel let you pull away, and you presented yourself to Acacius, to his overpowering scowl and his hawkish glare.

"I'm sorry." You mumbled, seeing how his gaze didn't even try to soften. You felt a surge of pride at the specks of blood peppering his shirt, the bruise forming by his aquiline nose.

Go on, Joel muttered. And you repeated the same process; his hand didn't touch you, and you felt him sneer against your face.

You stood once again in front of the two men, your lower lip held captive between your teeth.

"Good, great." Joel praised.

For a second you forgot how you got yourself there, your senses clouding. The rope burned on your wrists and the makeshift blindfold damp from your tears. Rough, calloused hands smoothed over your heaving body, so many, you could barely tell which was whose.

You jerked when a palm caressed your face, the touch so different to your state. Hands were spreading your thighs, exposing your throbbing core to a vivacious lick. The only thing that kept you from thrashing around was Catfish's timbre reciting in your ear, as some heavenly voice. Do exactly as your told.

"You look so scared, puppy." Joel tutted, thumb flicking at your lips. "It's okay, you are gonna like this, somehow."

Tags:

@tateypots @koshkaj-blog @paink1llerf0rm1ller @oldloganslittleslut @purple-fig @megjohnston23 @katwriteshardy @natalieispunk

@puduvallee @pedrofan

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Godspeed

Dieter Bravo x Female Reader

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: Now back home in Los Angeles, your first priority is protecting yourself, and Dieter, from Warren. Warnings: pov switching, warren's a pos, pining, fluff, comfort, dieter bravo is good at being romantic, revenge photo threats, shitty ex, panic attack, mutual masturbation via facetime sex, balloons! Words: 6,200

A/N: They never leave me folks. They're all I can think about. My thanks to @devineconjuring for her eyes and her grammar knowledge and dot eating. FYI... when you get to the scene, GG dances to "Godspeed" by Frank Ocean. (hence the title) Photo of the flower arrangement is from Tiffany Gabrus.

Previous Chapter Golden Girl Masterlist Masterlist

✨✨✨

You haven’t even been home for twenty-four hours when you invite Warren over.

You don’t tell Dieter. Guilt plants itself into your heart as you wish him good night, knowing that in less than an hour, Warren will be at your door.

But you want to handle this on your own. If Dieter protected you, you can protect him.

You could hardly hold it together when you called him after you arrived home, his deep voice instantly calming you. He quickly said he couldn’t talk because he was on set, wishing you a good night and telling you he loved and missed you. You cried yourself to sleep in your lonely bed, holding on to the fancy hotel robe he had worn, trying to inhale as much of his scent as you could.

You’re miserable now, sitting on the couch, your hands clasped tightly, as your foot nervously taps against the colorful terrazzo patterned rug that Warren always called too loud.

The doorknob jingles–as if Warren thinks he could just freely walk into the home he hasn’t been in for over a hundred days–before a few sharp knocks against the door make you jump. 

Every step you take, your heart pounds against your chest. 

You unlock the door, opening it to reveal the blue eyes you used to get lost in. The sight of his clever smile, which you used to adore, now makes your stomach turn.

“Hey,” he offers.

You don’t greet him. You just step aside and let him walk through the door he stepped out of months ago.

He looks around the space, surely noticing that all the photos of the two of you have been taken down, any signs of his presence long gone.

“Looks good in here," he muses. “You always had an eye for decor.”

“Thanks,” you reply, trying to square your shoulders and hold your head high. You can’t trust anything he says; there’s always a motive behind his words and actions. You fell victim to him for years. Now is not the time to be weak. You have Dieter to protect.

He takes a seat in the same black and white plaid chair he always used to sit in. You hate that chair now.

You settle on your new favorite spot on the couch, where you always sit when you talk to Dieter because you can easily prop the laptop on the side table.

“So,” Warren says with a smirk. “How was London? A smashing good time?” He mocks a British accent at the end. You know exactly what he’s doing. His voice drips with sarcasm, the kind that used to cut you deeply.

“It was good, but that’s not why you’re here,” you respond shortly. “How did you get that photo?”

His eyebrow arches up as he shakes his head back and forth. “Seems like you forgot to stop backing your photos up to our Google Cloud. Imagine my shock when I got a notification on my phone telling me I had a new album called ‘London New Year's,’ and it was filled with photos of my best friend and my wife galavanting naked together in bed. It was hard enough finding out you were there with him from paparazzi photos.”

Your heart sinks. You’re so mad at yourself. You thought you’d severed all digital ties to Warren, but this specific oversight on your part is huge.

“Ex-wife,” you correct him. Your voice is strong and steady, though your hands tremble.

Warren leans back in the chair. “You know, there certainly are some interesting photos in there. It’d be a shame if they wound u—”

“If you release them, it’s illegal. I can’t believe you’d stoop this low, Warren Gregory.” You use his middle name as if you’re his mother, trying to snap a bit of sense into him. “You lied to me for years, cheated on me constantly, and yet this is the lowest of the low for you. I’m disappointed in you. You’re better than this.” Your voice breaks at the end, though you do not cry. You’re done shedding tears for Warren.

Regret flashes across his face, instantly replaced by an infuriatingly smug smile.

"And I suppose Dieter's just the pinnacle of better than me, right? How many times has he gone to rehab? What number partner are you for him?”

The audacity of this man. You take a deep breath to steady yourself.

“None of that defines him now. He’s been nothing but honest and kind to me throughout everything–ever since I met him–and you know this. If he was such an awful person, why was he your best friend?”

His smile falters for a second, and he leans forward, elbows on his knees.

"Come on, you can't tell me you're actually happy with him. He's unstable. You deserve better."

You laugh at the irony. "Better? Like you, Warren?”

He allows himself to look ashamed for a split second. “I have made mistakes, and you got caught in the middle. I admit that. But I know you, I know what you need, and Dieter Bravo is not it.”

“You don’t know me anymore,” you say, your voice and your heart gaining strength. Because in your heart, you know, Dieter is it. “The woman you knew? She’s gone. I’ve changed and grown. And Dieter… he sees me.”

Warren scoffs. “Right, because the star of Cliff Beasts 6 with a drug problem is such a catch?”

“That’s enough, Warren. You don’t get to judge him or me. Delete those photos and get out of my house. I’m not asking, I’m telling you.” You stand up, hands clenched at your sides.

He pulls his phone out and taps the screen a few times, then holds it up for you to see. “There. Deleted. But this isn’t the end of it.”

“It is the end, Warren. If you need to contact me, go through my lawyer.”

He pauses, his hand on the doorknob. The last time you saw him like this, he walked out on you curled into a ball with tears streaming down your face. “You’ll regret ever being with him. Dieter will break your heart, just like he has with all the others before you. And by the way, I think I do want the house.”

The door slams behind him, and you collapse onto the couch. Your whole body shakes as adrenaline courses through it. You pick up your phone, and the sight of your wallpaper–Dieter and you smiling in front of the Christmas tree in London–instantly calms you.

You text him a simple message, knowing he’s sleeping, before you curl into a ball and cry.

—-

Da-ding. Da-ding.

Dieter’s awoken by your text tone. He rolls over, and smiles at your message. 

Missing you. I love you. 💖

The clock reads 4:40 AM. He should go back to bed, but he wants to see your beautiful face. It only takes two rings for you to answer his FaceTime. He’s instantly awake when he sees your tear-streaked face.

“Baby? You okay?”

“Warren, he-he threatened the house, and I-I—”

He sees the way you begin to panic, your wide eyes blinking back at him, your chest rising and falling in quick breaths.

“Shh, shh,” he soothes. “Can you take a deep breath for me?”

He watches you inhale slowly, trying to steady your breathing.

“The house,” you sob. “He was here, Dee. He-he threatened—”

“Baby, breathe,” his voice soft and firm. “I’m right here with you. Focus on my face.”

Your tear-filled eyes stare at him as he sends you a small, reassuring smile. His heart aches; he wishes he could hold you, but he can’t. All he can do is be there for you via a small screen.

“That’s it, Sweets, just keep breathing,” he encourages softly. “Now, tell me what happened. Slowly.”

You take another shaky breath, wiping at your eyes. “I-I called Warren and had him come over,” your voice quivers. “I’m sorry.”

Dieter’s heart sinks at the thought of you seeing Warren on your own. His jaw clenches, but he keeps his voice calm. "It’s okay. What happened when he came over?"

You take another deep breath. "He… he had photos of us. From London. I forgot to disconnect from our cloud storage."

Dieter's heart races, but he maintains his composure for your sake. "What kind of photos, baby?"

"All of them, even the private ones," you whisper, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks. "He threatened to release them, but I made him delete them."

The rage inside Dieter simmers low and hot, but he stays calm for you. “You did the right thing, Sweets. I’m so proud of you.”

You nod, sniffling. “I told him to leave and not come back. But he… he said it wasn’t over. He doesn’t like that we’re together, Dee.”

He lets out a long exhale, wanting nothing more than to fly back home to you right now and protect you from Warren and his cowardly threats.

“Listen to me, baby. Remember what I said before, when he tried to worm his way between us? Fuck everyone else.”

You nod, wiping away your tears. “I just… I feel so stupid.”

“Hey, no,” he responds, his words firm and measured. “You’re not stupid. This isn’t your fault. Warren’s the one trying to manipulate you.” He pauses, realizing that, once again, Warren is planting doubts in your mind. He leans closer to the screen. “Listen to me,” his dark brown eyes bore into yours. “You deserve love and happiness. Don’t let Warren make you feel any less than what you are, okay? He’s going to threaten you, he’s going to threaten me, but as long as we’re together, we can get through it. I love you, and I’m not going anywhere. Nothing he says or does will ever change that.”

You sniffle and wipe the remaining tears from your eyes. “I don’t want to lose you over this.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” he promises.

A smile finally lifts your lips. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“Don’t be. Rather be awake talking to you than asleep without you.”

“I know, but I should let you go.”

“No, stay with me for a bit longer. I don’t want you to be alone right now. I want to make sure you’re alright.”

You hesitate for a moment, but then nod. “Okay, just for a little while.”

“That’s my girl.”

He settles back in bed, knowing he’s going to have an exhausting day on set, but he doesn’t care, as long as you know he’s always there for you.

—-

Last night you jotted down a quick checklist of things you need to do today. First thing’s first: call your lawyer.

You spend the next hour detailing Warren’s visit, his threats, and the photos.

This is the bravest and strongest you’ve felt in so long. The irony is not lost on you that it’s all due to Dieter’s love and support.

As much as you miss London and Dieter, you’re ready to face everything head-on. You’ve spent too long letting Warren control your life, even since filing for divorce. It’s time to take charge.

With a newfound sense of purpose, you sit at your computer with a blank document staring back at you. You take a sip of your tea as you contemplate your resumé, which will reflect who you are now–not the picture-perfect wife Warren tried to mold you into, but the creative, independent girl Dieter sees and cherishes.

You begin with your name at the top, and beneath it, “Floral Designer and Artist.”

—-

There’s been a bitterness seething in the back of Dieter’s mind since he woke up. One he really can’t seem to get rid of. He’s been able to get through his scenes, recite his lines, act like the hero when the cameras are filming, but as soon as the director calls cut, his mind instantly goes back to you.

The concealer under his eyes is wiped away, revealing the dark circles from his sleepless night. Emily, his favorite makeup artist, chatters away about all the news she’s heard as she removes his makeup after a long day of shooting, but Dieter barely hears her. His mind and heart are back in Los Angeles with you, in your house where that manipulative bastard confronted you and made you feel scared.

He doesn’t know what to do. He wants to protect you, send every single lawyer in the Los Angeles area knocking on Warren’s luxury penthouse’s door, but he also knows how important it is for you to handle all of this on your own. You’d been clear about that when he made sure you had proper representation for your divorce. He respects you–admires you even–but it still doesn’t stop the protective instinct he has for you.

He wonders if he’d feel better if he was there with you, holding you in his arms, whispering against your ear that he loves you as he soothes all that ails you.

He checks his phone again. No new messages from you. He tries not to worry; you told him you had a busy day settling back in and letting your lawyer know what happened. He knows you’re handling things, but the thought of Warren being in your space, making you feel the way you did, makes him boil.

“You alright, Bravo?” Emily’s southern accent pulls him out of his spiraling thoughts.

“Yeah, sorry. Just ready to get home.”

She smiles with an understanding nod. “You’ll be home soon enough.”

—-

Sometimes you’re shocked at how life works. Though your resumé is relatively blank, you decide to include a selection of photos showcasing flower arrangements you’ve made throughout the years.

You make it a point to start early, figuring you’ll have to stop by many floral shops to get your name out there. You decide to first try your favorite shop, Bloom. It’s right down the hill from your home, an easy walk to and from the charming mint green building.

The little bell above the door chimes as you enter, the sweet scent of flowers enveloping you as you walk into one of your favorite places.

“Well, hi there!” a friendly voice calls out from behind a large bouquet being built at a table. Angela, the shop’s owner, emerges from behind the bright blooms. Her curly gray hair is pulled back in a messy bun, her apron covered in greenery and petals. "If it isn't my favorite customer! I was wondering when you'd be back."

You smile warmly at her. “Hey, Angela, it’s good to see you.”

“You too, dear. It’s been a while! How have you been?”

“Oh. Lots of changes lately. Actually…” you pause for a moment, unsure of what you should share, “that’s kind of why I’m here.”

Angela’s eyebrows raise in interest. “Oh? Do tell.”

With a deep breath, you pull out the folder containing your assembled resume and portfolio. “Well, I was hoping to talk to you about maybe picking up some work. I’ve always admired what you do, and I thought maybe I could start here, learn how to do what you do…”

Angela’s eyes light up as she takes the folder from you, putting her glasses on to inspect closer. “Oh my, this is quite a surprise! Let me take a look.”

You watch nervously as she flips through the pages, her eyes scanning your curated photos. Your heart pounds in your chest, hoping your lack of professional experience won’t overshadow your love for floral design.

After what feels like an eternity, Angela looks up with a smile. “Well, I must say, you have quite an eye. You arrange flowers in such a unique, artistic way, far different from what I do…”

Your heart drops. You almost feel ashamed for putting yourself out there in this way. You get ready to not look so disappointed when Angela’s sweet, brown eyes meet yours.

"…and I think we need someone like you here. I mean, they’re all so lovely.”

Relief washes over you. “Thank you.”

Angela nods, closing the folder. “I have been thinking about bringing on some help around here. I could use some fresh eyes and new ideas. My regulars would love something different."

Warmth expands in your chest. “I would love that. Thank you so much, Angela.”

"Perfect! Come by Monday morning at 7:30. That's when the flower deliveries arrive." She hands your folder back with a gentle pat. "And here, let me get you some supplies so you can practice!”

As you walk home, your hands full of flowers, you can’t help but fight the large smile that spreads across your face. You can’t wait to tell Dieter. The thought of having something that's yours—something Warren never touched or controlled—feels like freedom.

—-

Dieter’s sick of the cold. Without you here in London, the wind feels more bitter, the days look grayer, and his suite feels even emptier.

He flops against the couch, his heart aching to talk to you, to make sure you’re doing okay. He checks his phone–he was never one for math, but his timezone math is flawless now. It’s only 12:30 PM in Los Angeles. You’re only entering the afternoon while he just finished a 12-hour shoot and is exhausted. He only has two more weeks of this and then, then, he can be back with you. But for now, staring at the image of you smiling with the Paddington statue will have to suffice until you pick up his FaceTime.

… which you do after three rings. Your wide smile instantly brings him back to life, his heart beating faster against his chest when you softly say “Hi, Dee.”

“Hey, baby, you busy?” He already feels so much warmer and lighter as you chuckle happily, panning the phone down to a myriad of flowers spread across your kitchen counter.

“Kind of. I’m practicing.”

“Practicing what?”

“Oh… for…” your smile grows even wider. He can feel your happiness all these miles away, and it makes his heart explode. “…my new job.”

“What?! Get the fuck out. Baby, I’m so proud of you. You didn’t even tell me you were looking.”

You nod happily. “It’s at the flower shop down the hill. Bloom? It’s that mint green building. I know the owner just from going there a lot and… she really liked my stuff.”

He wants nothing more than to sweep you into his arms, swing you around, and pepper proud kisses across your pretty face. For so long, he wanted to share in these moments with you. “Sweets, that’s amazing. You’ve always been so talented, I’m so happy for you.”

“Thanks, it feels—it feels good,” you choke out. “Like, I know it’s not going to fix everything but… I feel like I have something for me now and I’m on the right path.”

He knows what you’re implying. You’re worried about the house, about your money, about supporting yourself. But there’s no way in hell he’d ever let you shoulder that burden alone. “And I’ll be here to help with whatever else needs fixing. You know that.”

“I know Dee, I just… I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“You could never, baby. You deserve it all, anything I can give you.”

“I wish you could give me a hug.”

He sighs. “Me too.”

“And a kiss.”

He groans. “Me too.”

“And more.”

He whines. “Me toooooo.”

“Hey, why haven’t we had phone sex yet?”

His eyes widen, brows rising. “I… do not know.”

A mischievous glint sparkles in your eyes. “Have you jerked off since I left? I feel like I should know this.”

“You should know this and I… haven’t.” You gasp. “It’s been over a week. Are you okay?”

“Baby, I’ve been so stressed with filming and so sad without you, it honestly hasn’t really crossed my mind.”

“Well, if you give me like, ten minutes to clean up and maybe get into something a little more comfortable, we can remedy that.”

“Fuck y-yeah. Okay. Yeah.”

You giggle, and the sweet sound of it goes straight to his cock. “Okay, I’ll call you soon.”

He nods, his cock already beginning to pulse when he hangs up.

—-

Your mirror reflects a confident woman. Your shoulders stand tall, your eyes bright with excitement as you adjust the cups of your light pink bra before turning to hike up the straps of the matching thong higher on your hips. You look good, confident, sensual–like you’re going to drive Dieter crazy. You position your laptop on the dresser, making sure your entire body is in frame before you FaceTime Dieter. He instantly picks up, his shirt already off, his back resting against the headboard of the bed you used to share with him in London.

“Baby,” he groans. “Holy fuck, you look so good.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Good. Now watch me.”

You press play on the remote. A sweet guitar begins playing before Frank Ocean croons “I will always love you, how I do.”

Dieter’s eyes widen as you begin to move to the music. Your hands running up and down your body, hips swaying to the sweet beat. You watch him watch you, dark brown eyes roaming your body as he moves his iPad closer and closer to his face.

You’ve never done something like this before, displaying yourself in such a way for someone who’s just happy to watch your barely dressed body sashay.

You look down on where you came from, sometimes But you’ll have this place to call home, always

Your hands trail up to your bra before your fingers trace along the delicate lace edges, teasing your nipples through the thin fabric. You turn your back to the camera, coyly looking over your shoulder as you slowly unhook the clasps. The straps slide down your arms as you let the bra fall away, revealing the smooth expanse of your back to him.

Swaying your hips in time with the music, you turn back to face Dieter, arms crossed over your chest before you wink at him and reveal your breasts, causing a soft groan to escape his lips. The sound emboldens you–you’ve never felt this free and confident in your own skin.

This love will keep us through blinding of the eyes, silence in the ears, darkness in the mind

Trailing your fingers down your stomach, you hook your thumbs in the band of your thong, running them along the straps. Dieter’s eyes follow your every movement, his breathing growing heavier as you sway.

“You’re killing me, Sweets,” he groans.

You smile, feeling wanted and powerful. This isn’t about pleasing someone else or conforming to someone else’s wishes; it’s about the connection with someone who loves and adores you exactly as you are.

“Keep watching Dee,” you tempt, slowly turning around again. You slide your thong down your hips, bending at the waist as you push it to your ankles. You kick the thong away before slowly spreading your legs open, baring your glistening pussy, showing Dieter just how wet you are for him, how much your little show has affected you too.

Confidence soars within you as you turn back around.

“Baby,” he lets out a low sigh as you stand nude in front of him, holding his eye contact as the final lyric is sung.

I will always love you, until the time we die

“Holy shit,” Dieter breathes as the music fades out. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so beautiful in my life. I fucking love you so much. Fuck, I don’t know if I’ve ever been this fucking hard before.”

“Show me,” you command, surprising yourself with your boldness.

He groans, shifting on the bed as he pushes down his boxers. His cock springs free, hard and leaking, falling heavily against him. You moan at the sight of him, wishing you could taste the bead of precum glistening on the tip.

Your laptop sits on the edge of your bed, your lip captured between your teeth as you climb on the mattress, crawling across it to sit with your back against the headboard, mirroring how he sits. You can feel the wetness pooling between your thighs as you watch him wrap his wide hand around his cock.

He’s perfectly centered in the screen. His cock sits hard and heavy between his thick, golden thighs. You wish so badly to be able to lick your way from his wide cock up the swell of his stomach, across his broad chest to his sharp collar bones, feeling the rough patches of stubble against his jaw before tasting his plush lips that now sit agape as he slowly drags his fist up and down his length.

You spread your legs wider, your feet straddling your laptop. Dieter’s eyes darken as they roam your body, taking in the sight of your pussy, puffy and wet with need.

“Fuck, look at you,” he growls. You follow the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows hard, twisting his fist around the head of his cock.

Frank Ocean quietly sings about Nikes in the background as your hand runs down the length of your body, dipping into the slick spilling out of your pussy. Dieter groans when you gasp as your finger paints a circle around your clit.

“I miss your tongue on my pussy,” you pout.

“Fuck, I do too baby. Wish I could taste you, wish I was right between those soft thighs.”

He’s so gorgeous. You feel so lucky to see Dieter like this–his dark brown eyes almost looking black as they’re overblown with lust, his golden skin shining from the bedside lamp, his cock standing hard as he jerks himself off for you.

Your eyes lock with his as you ever so slowly slide your finger through the slick folds of your cunt, circling your entrance, enamored by the way Dieter’s breath catches when you finally push your finger inside. The feeling makes you gasp, arching your back slightly off the headboard. 

“Ohh, that’s it baby,” he growls. “Let me see you fuck yourself.”

“I can’t wait until you’re back home,” you moan, sticking a second finger in, pushing them deeper inside your wet heat. 

“Two more weeks, baby,” Dieter groans, his hand picking up pace. “Two more fuckin’ weeks.”

“Two more weeks until I get to feel your cock inside me,” you moan.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ explode once I get to you,” he grits, spitting in his palm and stroking himself harder.

Your fingers pump in and out of you, trying to match his pace as your thumb works over your clit. Your free hand clasps around your breast, squeezing and pulling against the tender flesh, desperate and needy for Dieter’s tongue against your skin.

“That’s it, Sweets,” he encourages. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful. My dream girl.”

“I’m close,” you pant. Your muscles begin tightening, the familiar stardust beginning to glimmer behind your eyelids.

“Wait for me,” he says, his hand pumping himself harder. “I want us to cum together.”

You slow yourself, watching how the muscles in Dieter’s arm flex as he strokes himself.

“You wanna cum with me, baby?” you ask, looking into his eyes, marveling at the intensity and love you can see even through the screen.

“Yesss,” Dieter whines. His hand moving faster, chest heaving with each breath, thighs tensing as he brings himself to the edge.

“I’m close,” you gasp, feeling your orgasm right at the crest.

“Me too, baby,” he strains. “Fuck, I wish I was there. Wish I could watch as my cock cums all over your sweet pussy. Wish I could lick it all off your sweet cunt then kiss you and let you taste us.”

You moan at his filthy words, overwhelmed at the thought of tasting the mixture of your sweet release. “Look at me, Dee. Watch me cum for you.”

Your orgasm sets your body alight, glowing for Dieter thousands of miles away as you cry out his name, staring into his eyes as you feel your walls clench your fingers, missing the feeling of your pussy pulsing around Dieter’s thick width. But being able to watch Dieter’s face contort in ecstasy, his mouth falling open as he grunts your name, spilling himself all over his fist and onto his stomach is a good enough replacement.

“I love you,” he lowly says. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you respond, never realizing just how deep a connection could be to somebody, even when they’re a whole ocean away. You never thought your life would become this. A year ago, you felt trapped, and now you’re finding your own path, with a man who loves you exactly as you are. 

—-

Each day of filming feels never-ending, yet Dieter truly enjoys the chaos of projects nearing completion. He collapses into his trailer after another grueling 14-hour day on set. He aches all over, but the excitement of being only one week away from wrap means he’s only one week away from flying back home to Los Angeles… and you.

He pulls out his phone, smiling at the dozens of texts you’ve sent him while he’s been filming. Photos of bouquets you’ve created at Bloom, your grocery haul, the color of the early morning sunrise, the outfit you chose for your first day of work—a black and white striped shirt under a green cardigan, a pair of baggy, dark jeans, and comfortable sneakers. He knows if he ever walked into a flower store and found someone as gorgeous as you working there, he’d go broke buying bouquets. He smiles at the reminder that you are indeed his.

It’s only 2 PM back home in LA, and he knows you’re busy at your first day of work.

The sound of his assistant Court stepping into his trailer makes him look up from his phone.

“Your car will be here in ten. Anything you need?”

“No, thanks. Hey, you want to see something cool?” Dieter asks, holding up his phone.

“You’ve already shown me the video of that little hippo like twenty times, Mr. Bravo,” Court sighs.

“No, no,” he chuckles. “Look at what my girl’s been doing.”

Dieter brings up the photos of the bouquets you’ve made. Your arrangements are just as stunning as you–unique and artistic, vastly different from the boring, typically stuffy bouquets Warren used to buy you. He’s so proud of you.

Court admires each one, her sharp brows rising in approval. “Damn, these are really good.”

“Amazing, right?” Dieter proudly smiles.

“Exactly,” Court nods.

His heart swells with pride for you, for his Golden Girl.

—-

Maybe you should have driven to the flower shop for your first day at work. Your feet are killing you, your fingers smell of eucalyptus and roses, your back aches, your hair’s thrown into the messiest bun, and you’re pretty sure you can’t mend the sleeve of your cardigan that you nipped with a pair of shears, but you can’t remember the last time you felt this fulfilled.

Angela threw you right into the deep end, letting you take customer orders, process deliveries, and even trusted you to manage the shop alone for a couple of hours on only your first day.

One sore step after another, you slowly make your way up the winding hill back home. Your house comes into view, and your tired eyes blink with joy at the sight of it. The sooner you get home, the sooner you can talk to Dieter–after a long, hot shower to soothe your aching muscles, of course.

The shower does indeed soothe your muscles, and the lavender scent left on your skin from your body wash relaxes you as you throw on Dieter’s robe and head downstairs to figure out dinner.

The doorbell dings. Outside, a courier stands surrounded by dozens of balloons—purple, green, and gold ones mix with shiny red heart-shaped and large pink flower-shaped balloons, all swaying in the evening breeze. The young man’s face is almost completely obscured.

"Delivery," he announces, his voice strained as he tries to keep hold of what must be at least thirty balloons.

"I think you have the wrong house," you say, clutching Dieter's robe tight.

The courier checks his tablet. "No, this is the right address. Are you..." he reads your name from the screen.

"That's me," you say hesitantly.

"Then these are for you. And there's more."

“More?” you ask, stepping aside as he brings the giant balloon bouquet through your door.

You’re still standing mouth agape at the ridiculous amount of balloons when he returns with an enormous basket filled with your favorite British snacks, a bottle of gin, bath bombs and oils from Dieter’s hotel, and a stuffed Paddington Bear.

“One more thing,” the courier says as he runs back outside.

The courier returns with an envelope and a small box. You thank him, sign for the delivery, and close the door, standing amidst what looks like a carnival.

This is so ridiculous, you can’t help but laugh at how it’s so wholly Dieter.

You open the envelope, pulling out a handwritten note on stationary embossed with Mandarin Oriental Hotel at the top.

Sweets,

Congratulations on your first day at Bloom! I knew you’d be amazing.

Only 5 more days.

I hope you wear your gift tomorrow for me.

Love, D

You lift the lid of the small box to reveal a gold necklace nestled inside. Dangling from the delicate chain is a gold heart balloon pendant, engraved with a D on one side. It’s perfect. You quickly put it on, loving the feeling of having his initial hanging from your neck.

You’ve never had someone show you they care for you in such grandiose ways before; it’s a little absurd when you really think about it. The Oscar-winning actor Dieter Bravo is in love with you. But, you embrace the absurd and laughable, because right now, you feel like the most special person in the world.

You click the FaceTime button next to Dieter’s name. It takes a few rings, and a bit of guilt pangs against your happiness when you realize he was indeed sleeping–rather deeply, by the way Dieter’s eyes slowly flutter open, wincing at the brightness of his phone screen.

“Hi, baby,” he lowly rasps out, his voice heavy with sleep. He rubs a hand down his face as he rumbles out a yawn.

“Hi,” you smile, wishing you could feel the warmth of his bare chest. “Thank you for my surprise. It looks like a clown car exploded in here. I love everything.”

He hmphs out a small smile, his eyes slowly blinking awake. “Yeah?”

“Yes, especially my necklace,” you pan the phone down to show him.

“Did you open it?”

“Open it?” you ask, confused.

Dieter’s eyes light up as he sits up in bed. “The heart opens, baby.”

You fumble with the small pendant, using the FaceTime screen as a mirror, and find the tiny clasp on the side. It springs open to reveal a tiny photograph inside—you and Dieter on New Year’s Eve, right before he told you he loved you. Right before he changed your life.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, as tears spring to your eyes. “Dee, it’s perfect.”

“I had it custom made,” he proudly says. “You deserve it, baby. How was your first day of work?”

"My hands are all scratched up," you laugh, showing him your battle wounds. "And I think I ruined my favorite cardigan."

"War wounds from doing something you love," he says. "Sexy as hell.”

"I can't believe I'm a working woman now," you say, running your fingers along the heart pendant. "It feels good, Dee. Really good."

His sleepy smile widens as he shifts in bed. “I’m so proud of you. The pics you sent me, you have such a talent.”

“Thanks, Dee.”

You spy him trying to stifle a yawn. You know how busy he’s been and though you miss him more than anything, you know he’ll stay on the phone with you all night if you don’t let him sleep.

“You should go back to sleep. It’s really late there.”

"Mmm, but I miss you,” his words slur slightly with exhaustion. "Wanna hear about your day."

You watch his eyelids droop despite his efforts to stay awake. "I'll tell you all about it tomorrow when you're actually conscious. Sleep, Dee."

"Fine," he sighs, nestling deeper into his pillow. "But only 'cause you told me to. Five more days, baby. Five more days until I’m home with you.”

“Five more days,” you echo, your heart beating faster at Dieter saying home. “I love you.”

"Love you more," he murmurs, his eyes already closed.

You end the call and sit amongst the bright sea of balloons, running your finger along the D engraved on the pendant around your neck. This is what love is supposed to feel like—supportive, joyful, and free. Not the constant walking on eggshells and proving that you’re a good wife that defined your years with Warren.

Only five more days until Dieter Bravo is back with you. 

✨✨✨

Perma tagging: @schnarfer @mothandpidgeon @forspringcleaning Tagging some friends and lovers of GG (let me know if you'd like to be added or removed): @sawymredfox, @secretelephanttattoo, @galway-girlatwork, @whatumuhcallit, @chronically-ghosted @copperhalfcent, @jessthebaker, @moel-jiller, @sunnytuliptime, @jokesonthem @lotusbxtch, @mysterious-moonstruck-musings, @flawssy-227, @toomanystoriessolittletime, @littlemisspascal @cas-readsandwrites, @wave0fg00dvibes, @rulexofxnines, @tuquoquebrute, @littlevenicebitch69 @readingiskeepingmegoing, @marissa47, @amyispxnk, @peepawispunk, @ishabull @vibin-hippie, @noisynightmarepoetry, @titlee78

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Gosh, Gideon, every single iteration of your Dieter is just so easy to love, and this one is no different. Always a perfect balance of bitter and sweet, silly and serious. Always this underlying softness - both coming from Dieter and given to Dieter - and it always makes me so flipping happy to see him with someone that understands him (he’s a complex animal) and sees him (him, not Hollywood him) and cares about him (pop tarts and bad coffee and being late to work all so he knows how loved he is).

A detail that I will think about five-ever (longer than forever) now? The line about his soft pj pants feeling like home. GOSH when I tell you I actually became this emoji 🥹, I need you to understand that I actually became that emoji. Because getting to be the one to see him like this and be with him like this, getting to be the one he wants to see him and be with him? Yeah. That’s home.

Thank you for loving this guy so much and for writing him so wonderfully and for sharing him with all of us!

💭 ''stay tonight.'' with Dieter Bravo please!! <3

Dieter Bravo x gn!reader

No major warnings, just soft and only a little sad.

725 words, completely unedited so apologies for errors

Dusk has settled with a reassuring stillness; orange light fading against the edge of the world and pitching a blanket of beginning darkness over everything.

It has always been comforting to Dieter. The night, those peaceful hours between dusk and dawn where he doesn't have to be seen and known by anyone but who he has chosen. Day time is exhausting; constant and full of demands, orders - be there, don't do that. It's tiring.

Often when he can Dieter will skip the days all together. Sleep through them and slip straight in to the comfort of the evening. When he can, of course he's rarely allowed.

Today had been one of those days. At the studio for 10, bright lights shining straight in to his tired eyes, recording ADR for the hokey rom-com he'd been signed up on with barely any say; "It's a good look" said the publicist, "It'll draw attention away from...everything else" said the agent.

Recording the lines was easy. That kind of work was too easy. He missed films that had real meat, real grit. He missed roles that felt like more than a cash grab. He missed Hunger Strike and the plays off Broadway. Dieter wasn't made for the world of Hollywood like these new actors were.

He sighs and rubs at his face, brushing off the mask he'd put on for the day as the sun leaves the sky finally. Time to be him now; not the Dieter Bravo for the public but the Dieter beneath the costumes and hair and makeup.

Extraordinary fuck up but with no need to be ashamed of it.

A ping sounds from somewhere in the bundled sheets on his bed and Dieter turns away from the window, eager to find his phone only because he knows it'll be you. His skin tingles with the knowing.

You let yourself in, like always. Dieter is grumbling and kneeling on the floor peering under the bed when you get to his room. He mutters something like 'don't need the fucking thing' as you sit on the floor beside him and rub a reassuring hand up his back.

"Lost your phone again?" You ask, squeezing his shoulder gently.

He turns to look at you, blinks twice, and then smiles bright. Like he's only just registered it's you. You grin back at him.

"I had it, earlier when I was... It's here somewhere" He mutters with soft annoyance. His knees click when he stands up to peer at the bed again. You hum and rest your head against his left leg, and run your hand from the back of his knee and up his thigh. His pyjama pants are soft against your skin. It sort of feels like being home.

"We'll find it" you assure, and he looks down to you with that same sweet smile. You tug lightly on his pants "You need it tonight?"

Prompted, Dieter sits back down on the floor next to you.

"No. Not tonight, right? You're staying tonight?" He asks.

He's beautiful like this - the twilight night makes him glow. Or maybe it's you. His eyes are brighter than they were last time you saw him, when he was running lines for an audition he had no real interest in.

You really should go home tonight. You end up late to work when you stay here. You always let him make you pop tarts and bad coffee in the mornings, and then he distracts you in the shower.

"Stay tonight" Dieter whispers, leaning against you and ghosting the words against your forehead before he presses the sweetest kiss there.

He's relaxed in the here and now; the safety of his home, no audience, no spectators but those he chooses. The safety of you, who knows him for who he is and doesn't ask him to be someone else, to try something else.

"Ok" You smile, and kiss him then. His lips are pillowy and gentle. If you're being really honest with yourself they're better than anyone else's. You should tell him sometime, you think.

"Just to help find my phone in the morning?" He asks quietly. It's a joke, but something in the tone reminds you that Dieter doesn't know why anyone would want to stay. It breaks your heart a little.

You should tell him, sometime

"Yeah, just that"

[4ever-feral]

SIR!!!!! THE CHIN RUB???? HIS EYES LOOKING UP AT HER???? IM SAT IM SEATED!!! 🧎🏽‍♀️🧎🏽‍♀️

[javierpena-inatacvest]

BIPOC Authors and Fics Masterlist!

Thank you to everyone who submitted so many recommendations to celebrate all the fantastic works of BIPOC writers in the Pedro fandom! Please read, share, and enjoy all of these incredible authors and fics! 🥹 If you have any other writers or fics you want to share, inbox or DM me, so I can keep this as up to date as possible!! Thanks for helping to spread some love 💛

Authors (listed in alphabetical order):

@80ssong A03 masterlist (Joel Miller, Javi G, Frankie Morales)

@artemiseamoon masterlist for PPCU (all Pedro characters)

@cxrsed-angel masterlist for PPCU (Joel Miller, Marcus Acacius, Reed Richards)

@damneddamsy masterlist for Joel Miller series

@flawssy-227 masterlist for all writing (Joel Miller)

@flightlessangelwings masterlist for all writing (All Pedro characters)

@flordeamatista one-shot: A Sweeter Place (Joel Miller)

@gothcsz materlist for all writing (Javier Peña, Marcus Acacius)

@inclusivepedro-oscarlibrary another source for POC authors!

@joeloverture masterlist for all writing (Joel Miller)

@kedsandtubesocks masterlist for all writing (all Pedro characters)

@kilamonster one-shot: Lola (Javier Peña)

@letsgobarbs one-shot: Joel Miller x Logan Howlett

@liltangerineart masterlist for all writing (Din Djarin, Javier Peña, Joel Miller)

@lovesbiggerthanpride masterlist for all writing (Javier Peña, Frankie Morales, Dave York, Dieter Bravo, Javi G, Joel Miller)

@megamindsecretlair one-shot: Break My Heart (Javier Peña)

@mostclevermiss one-shot: Sic Simper Tyrannus (Marcus Acacius)

@nerdieforpedro masterlist for all writing (All Pedro characters)

@ovaryacted masterlist for all writing (Joel Miller, Javier Peña, Marcus Acacius, Dieter Bravo)

@pedroscurls masterlist for all writing (Joel Miller, Frankie Morales, Javier Peña, Marcus Acacius, Marcus Pike)

@pedrospatch masterlist for all writing (Joel Miller, Javier Peña)

@penvisions masterlist for all writing (Joel Miller, Frankie Morales, Din Djarin, Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels, Javi G, Ted Garcia)

@superhoeva masterlist for Frankie Morales series

@stargirlfics masterlist for Joel Miller

@thundermartini masterlist for all writing (Joel Miller, Javier Peña)

@yxtkiwiyxt masterlist for all writing (Javier Peña, Joel Miller, Dave York, Dieter Bravo)

Specific Fic Recs (By Character):

Joel Miller

A Sweeter Place by @flordeamatista

Loopholes (series) by @yxtkiwiyxt

Stages of Devotion (series) by @penvisions

Deadfall by @joeloverture

Falling by @damneddamsy

All I Do by @flawssy-227

Butterfly by @stargirlfics

So Much Goddamn Talk by @stargirlfics

Let's Go by @thundermartini

Let Me Show You by @pedroscurls

Javier Peña

Unscripted Desire (series) by @gothcsz

Neighbors (series) by @gothcsz

Lola by @kilamonster

Complicated by @ovaryacted

Lap Dance by @yxtkiwiyxt

Break My Heart by @megamindsecretlair

Touch Tank by @thundermartini

Frankie Morales

Game Changer by @kedsandtubesocks

The Margay (series) by @ohforficsake

Take me Home Tonight by @80ssong

The Realm of Love by @80ssong

Marcus Acacius

Sic Simper Tyrannus by @mostclevermiss

III by @gothcsz

Din Djarin

Healing Pains by @liltangerineart

Dieter Bravo

Fire Starter by @kedsandtubesocks

Dave York

Homecoming by @letsgobarbs

[quinnnfabrgay-writes]

kinda forgot this existed, eventually i'll get back to pup play with Dieter...

do what i like

a/n: so we were tossing around ideas in the DMAM server and some things transpired... another high thot starring everyone's fave sub. thanks to @crowandmousewritingco for the back and forth, @sizzlingcloudmentality for encouraging me to post this madness, and my lil subby boy is always always dedicated to @sp00kymulderr for listening to every sub!dieter thot that pops into my mind

@crowandmousewritingco : God Dieter would look so good in a collar and leash

me: wouldn't he be the cutest, goodest boy in the world??? definitely deserving of lots of pets and scalp scratches

@crowandmousewritingco : Oh just the best. Just imagine him kneeling by your chair being oh so good but also being the neediest puppy 🫠🫠🫠

me: 😈😈😈

oh so needy, he's constantly nuzzling his nose to your thigh, it always starts out so innocent, just needing another way of keeping himself close to you...

tags/warnings: 18+ minors dni, d/s dynamics, reader's gender is open to interpretation but is referred to as mommy, mommy kink, pet play, slight degradation, sub!dieter is his own adorable warning

maybe you're reading a book in your favorite chair, absentmindedly running your fingers through his hair, gently running your nails across his scalp while he's being a good obedient pet, perched on his knees on the floor beside you, content to sit there and bask in your comforting touch

and maybe you're reading something a lil spicy, he's so attuned to your body's tells, always on alert so he can jump at the opportunity of making you feel good, making you feel proud of him for anticipating your needs

but he also wants to show you how far he's come in learning restraint - you had already told him "not tonight dear, mommy's tired" and he wants to respect your wishes so badly

but now you're trying to discreetly rub your thighs together, a natural response when you're reading smut, and Dieter wants so badly to help you out, he wants to show you just how good he can make you feel, show you how much he's absorbed what does and doesn't make you tick

so he's slowly inching his face closer to the apex of your thighs, nuzzling his face in the softness of your skin along the way until he’s practically whining and panting, desperately attempting to part your thighs with his face alone, letting out a yelp when you wrap his leash around your hand and pull him back to your side

his big brown eyes already wet with apologetic tears. before he can even open his mouth to start begging for forgiveness you just start tutting disappointedly, shaking your head, grabbing his chin between your fingers "awww, my poor lil pup, just a needy lil thing aren't you? maybe we should work on our patience more, hmm?"

and long story short, maybe he has to sit there on his knees while you touch yourself in front of him and he can't do a damn thing about his throbbing cock profusely leaking precum...

[scrambledslut]

makes me so eepy

[pedrosyouknowwhat]

Defiled

Summary: You feel little more than defiled.

warnings: Dead dove do not eat, noncon, fingering, weed use, threats, manhandling, unprotected p in v, short chapter, angst, humiliation, biting, choking, threat of anal

Pairings: Dark! Joel Miller x reader, Dark! Javier Peña x reader, Dark! Marcus Acacius x reader, Dark! Oberyn Martell x reader, Dark! Agent Whiskey x reader, Dark! Dieter Bravo x reader, Dark! Frankie Morales x reader

Series Masterlist

You pressed yourself against the couch, slotted between two men that dwarfed you-Javier and Oberyn- their gaze lost in some dumb action movie; despite trying, watching the film felt like succumbing.

The dim, flickering light of the TV glazed over the soft, fluffy fabric of the blanket that was blessed upon you. You shifted your knees on top of the couch, trying to relief some ache that pounded on your body.

As your cheek nuzzled against it, you caught a faint whiff of a familiar scent. Your eyes shot to the blanket, examining it as pain settled between your furrowed brows. Pink and freckled with white hearts; realization shot at you as your hands carefully, discreetly, moved along its seams and found the tell tale linear stitches.

You let a gasp slip out as you fiddled with your initials, sewn upon them; another thing they had taken from your home town.

Had that meant that they had entered your house? Seen your room? Seen your pictures?

Did they know it was yours?

Your faint sound didn't go unnoticed, as your eyes bulged as you felt a knuckle trail the back of your thigh. The TV shone slightly over Oberyn, a smirk tugging at the edge of his lips as you shot him a pleading look; he schooled his expression, now intrigued on the movie before him. But his hand trailed to the upper side, the side you pressed against your belly, demanding space with calloused and firm hands.

As you tried to silently plead harder, you found someone who was looking. Hidden between the shadows and darkness the house held, Marcus spread his legs on the adjacent sofa-couch, palm slowly roaming over the crotch of his jeans. His stare, hard and stoic, forced you to stare back at the darned film.

The hand splayed, then pressed, forcing one foot off the couch. You bit down a whimper, and it irked him to go further. He cupped your sex, and you felt your breathe hitch. You pushed yourself away, Javier's linen shirt pressing against your shoulder; he cockily draped his arm over your frame.

You could see Oberyn's amusement in the cock of his brow as he traced a the seam of your sex, nerves throbbing beneath it. You felt adrenaline rush through your body, wincing at the memory of pain they had thrusted-quite literally-upon you. Your bravery bubbled at your throat, and your hand came to clench at his wrist.

It wouldn't budge.

You heard him hum, something low and hearty, before he sunk two thick digits into your swollen cunt; a warning, as casual as a slap on your wrist. Your teeth gritted, the searing pain sending a shot of heat through you, hands now clenching the blanket in a tight, clammy grip.

His head ticked to the side as he curled his fingers inside of you, nudging at your soft, spongy spot with unwavering effort. You stifled a whimper, back pressing harder onto the dilapidated couch. Your eyes shot to a red, cherry tip lighting up in the middle of the darkness.

Joel sits on the other chair, joint wrapped between pursed lips as he lowers his lighter. His other hand grabs the stick, lazily glancing at the TV as his body relaxes.

The skunky scent hits your nostrils, chest heaving as Oberyn retreats his fingers slightly, and you feel empty before he presses into your hardened clit.

Your whimper is ignored as Javier shifts, a groan rumbling in his chest. “Told you I didn’t want to smell your fucking pot.”

Joel rolls his eyes, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke. As he glares at Javier, he notices your wide eyes, the gentle shake of your legs, and the way Oberyn’s arm tucked into the blanket.

He doesn’t say much.

With each puff, you feel the man beside you tense, mouth ticking with annoyance. The pressure on your clit is faint, playful flickers sending arousal to pool at your lips; your jaw aches from how tight you are biting.

The credits roll in, and you feel relief wash over you as Catfish turns on the light, bright and painful against your eyes.

The pregnant pause lingers in the air as Joel crushes the remaining joint into a tin and searches for more; impatiently, Javier stands to his feet.

The blanket follows the denim of his jeans, latching onto his knee and falling to the floor. Oberyn’s ministrations still. You gulp.

Time stops as Joel cocks his brow at the scene, brown eyes droopy. A hum erupts from his curling lips as he pouts, amused. “Look’s like you’re having fun.”

Fear beats at your chest, but Oberyn doesn’t stop. He cackles, seeing how every gaze is turned to you. Quickly and unpredictably, he is forcing your back against the seat of the couch and hooking one leg over the backrest.

Javier sighs defeated, boots stomping out of the room and into the hallway. Before you could beg, the two pruny fingers are shoved back into your cunt and you squeal. Halted, your hands grip onto the couch, trying to pull yourself away.

Oberyn tuts at this playfully, other hand clinging onto your hip. “I’d say the lady needs to let go, too.” He comments, grin casually and sickeningly charming.

Your back curls with pleasure as his thumb accompanies the beat of his fingers, flicking at your nerve. You feel feet surrounding you, shadows casted, but your mind drowns in forced pleasure that blurs your sight.

You hear Catfish’s distinctive voice cut through, voice stern. “No.” he orders, desperation laced antithetically in his tone. “fuck, she could have asma-”

You feel hands on your cheeks, forcing your lips into an O-shape as Oberyn finger-fucks you almost off the couch. The thick smoke fills every airway, and you cough-and-moan pathetically. Your head shakes viciously, fighting any effects fruitlessly.

“It’s past midnight.” You hear a growl, and Oberyn slows down as someone releases the grip on your face. “Already Wednesday, already mine.”

Oberyn pulled his fingers with a wet pop, and they glisten with arousal; you slowly pull your legs together as he brings them to his mouth, slurping. The sight-the concept- so foreign it sends a pang of horror through you.

Marcus stood beside your face in the couch, and you couldn't help but tug on the measly shirt to cover more of your goose bump-ed skin.

"Up." He ordered, and you stood to your feet. His big hand wrapped around your thigh, and in a flash he had you swung over his shoulder. You squirmed, the air almost punched out of your lungs, but a sharp smack kept you still.

He dropped you unceremoniously on the bed, and you scrambled against the sheets, taking him in.

His shoulders were massive, probably the biggest in the house; they heaved under the muscle, form towering over your body. He looked permanently angry, scrunched brows and a tight pout; the scar on his cheek bone was matched with more scattered around his torso as he peeled over his thin wife beater. He was nothing short of rough.

Behind him, Oberyn slipped into the room; you froze, seeing how he walked to the other bed. He begun taking off his shoes, though his gaze was set on you. "Gonna fuck her, General?" he asked, tiredness seeping into his voice.

Marcus hummed, and you felt as if he was a predator contemplating on his prey. "Probably; gonna be loud too."

You felt sweat bead over your body, arousal sticking to your thighs. "N-no more, please." You whispered, however Marcus pulled down his pants, tight boxers clinging to thick thighs.

"Babygirl thinks she has a say." Marcus rumbled, an attempt at a laugh. His knees sank onto the mattress, caging you in. Your hands uselessly came to cling at his chest, though your push was minuscule to the amount of bare strength he moved with.

With a cocked brow he turned you on your chest, muffled cries spilling into the pillow. A hand snaked to uncover his cock, it's big, weepy head pressing bare against your hole. "N-NO!" You squealed, the size sending shivers down your spine.

His thick bicep engulfed your chest as he lined his cock, your cunt protesting and clenching around nothing. "Keep still." He growled, unable to notch himself. "or I have a better hole to fuck."

His tip pressed against the tight ring of muscle, and you managed to calm your frantic limbs. "atta girl." He whispered, finally pushing the tip into your pussy. "gonna rip the bandage for you."

He pushed to a halt, and you screamed, loud. Almost instantly, footsteps rang on your ears, the door slamming open as you felt your eyes droop, pressure fondling your brain, as if forcing you asleep.

"Came to watch the show?" Oberyn wondered to the figure on the door frame.

Marcus pulled back his hips, then forward; your tears dampened the pillow beneath you. "Give her a fucking break!" a familiar voice bellowed, and you felt a chuckle bounce against your spine. "Acacius, I'm serious-"

But he kept going on with deep, slow strokes; punching the air out, peppering kisses into your cervix. His breathe fanned against your cheek, and he bit down hard.

Over the hickey's Javier had caused, he broke skin, felt blood pool into his mouth. You cried out, begging "Catfish please, make him stop-"

It urged Marcus to groan, hands tightening around you; you tried to look at your Saviour over the thick head on your side. All you could see was Oberyn rising to his feet, a warn etched into his features.

"You don't want to anger Joel." He spoke, slowly, matter of factly.

You sobbed as you heard steps retreat. Your Saviour had left you.

A hand clenched around your throat, pressing. "Just go to sleep."

Tags:

Tags: @tateypots @koshkaj-blog @paink1llerf0rm1ller @oldloganslittleslut @purple-fig @megjohnston23 @katwriteshardy

@natalieispunk

[prolix-yuy]

Betty! My heart! I still love coming back to this story too, it was a surprise plot that flew out and Dieter slipped right on in there so deliciously. As bombastic and wild as he is, I do love letting him get to be the mysterious seducer every now and then. May he always grace your mind palace in those pajamas of his! Thank you for reading!

In honor of your Bangathon, I spun the wheel 🤣

So we have froggy style with *drum roll* none other than our warm, feral racoon man Dieter Bravo. And we just need that sultry foul mouth.

I'm so excited for all the drabble that are going to come of this.

Lovely Britt! It is the penultimate day of the Bangathon and I've thrown all my rules out the window. Dieter double feature, absolutely obliterating my word count, and I'm having way too much fun with it. Let's get froggy with our raccoon boy!

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

Position: Froggy Style

Word Count: 2656 (it's 12:45am, there are no gods, no one can save me)

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, fingering (f receiving), PiV sex, exhibitionism, dirty talk, public sex, sex parties, mentions of fetish play.

Notes: This idea came to me in a dream and I had to write it, word count be damned! Technically I'm spoiling the ending with just the pairing, but I'm sure you would have guessed it instantly either way. Let's go!

“This is a little too Eyes Wide Shut for me,” you tell your friend Ana as she urges you through the front door of a Hollywood mansion. Your voice is muffled by the mask you wear, black lace molded to look like a cat. Only your eyes are visible, held on with a thick ribbon tied behind your head. Ana is sporting a rabbit mask, maybe a little on the nose for the occasion but you could appreciate the honesty. 

“Then why did you accept my invitation?” she asks, all smug grace and poise in the skimpy red dress she matched to her disguise. You’re more akin to a kitten, steps uncertain and timid as you take in the room and all its inhabitants. 

It had been too tempting, one of Ana’s fellow actors inviting her out to a “masquerade.” When she saw your eyes widen, heat rising in your cheeks, she made a phone call and extended your own invitation. It would have been rude to deny. But now, co-mingling with people who would never know you in the outside world, it all feels like a bad idea.  

Men and women alike are masked, some more on display than others. One fox woman is in barely-there lingerie, a falcon man in low-slung gray sweatpants and nothing else. Your skin tingles in anticipation, the long black dress hugging your form a comfort against the tickle of eyes. 

“If you get cold feet, just leave before the selection,” Ana says, stepping away from you to grab a couple glasses of champagne. You’re about to question how you’ll drink it when you see golden straws circling the lip.

“They thought of everything,” you murmur, eliciting a chuckle from her. 

“Anything catch your eye?” she says salaciously, and you bat her away before surveying the room. Many wolves and lions, a few birds of prey, some dog masks that look suspiciously close to fetish gear. Bodies of all types, but nothing that stood out enough to make you salivate.

“We’ll see,” you say as a chime sounds and the crowd moves deeper into the house. Ana walks next to you, head turning to take in the potentials. You keep yours tilted up, admiring the fresco on the ceiling and trying to ground yourself.

“It’s a pretty good replica, but the real thing is better,” says a deep male voice next to your shoulder. 

“The blue is really vibrant,” you reply, “Looks like they followed traditional techniques.” 

“Only the best for our esteemed hosts,” he muses, making a smile come to your hidden lips.

“Not a fan?” you tease, an entryway coming into view.

“I would never say an unkind word about those that invite me in their home,” the man says with faux adoration, “but yes, they're extremely tacky and most of their art is fake.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you laugh, turning to see who’s speaking but no one is directly behind you anymore. He must have melted into the crowd. You’re about to ask Ana if she saw him when you come to a bottleneck, two darkly dressed attendants speaking to each guest.

“Are you open to being chosen tonight?” the bright-eyed woman to your right says, holding out a red string bracelet. You swallow hard.

“Yes.”

She affixes the string around your wrist, letting you enter the open courtyard. Silver stars twinkle in the indigo sky, braziers lit around the room offering warmth and golden light. A group of guests, mostly male-presenting, gather in the middle of the courtyard. Around the peripheries, mixed company lounge on crisp white couches in various poses of seduction. You settle on one, letting Ana wander away. 

Once guests stopped filing in, another chime sounds and the group begins thinning out. Some remain, nodding to companions or conversing. The majority wander the perimeter, extending hands or sitting beside their choices. 

Anxiety wells in your throat. What was someone supposed to choose you for? You’re among the Hollywood twelves, smuggled in by your connections. What would they want with your cheap dress and cheaper tastes? What could they judge from a glance?

Suddenly, there’s a hand extended before you. 

“Would you care to be chosen, gatita?”

The voice is familiar, the same man from before. Putting visuals to him is more powerful than you thought. He’s in silk pajamas, white and tan with beautiful renditions of bare-branched trees poking up from red and green brush. You even spy some hunting dogs pointing at invisible prey. Covering his face is a brass-colored raccoon mask, tied with red ribbon. His eyes are dark pools behind it, a halo of wild chocolate curls framing the edges. As much as you want to laugh at the raccoon mask, something about it on this man curls excitement in your stomach. It reminds you less of cute animal videos you send to your friends, more of glittering eyes in the dead of night, and the fear of a vicious bite. 

You extend your hand, and his palm is soft and large under yours. “Can it be…private?” you ask, already glimpsing the bold undressing of some guests, others watching on. 

“As the lady wishes,” he concedes, leading you away from the crowd. As you ascend a set of stairs, you converse again.

“Why do the hosts have so much fake artwork?” 

He snorts, keeping your hand in his.

“Because it’s expected. Big house has to be full of priceless art. But you can’t have priceless art in every house, so you compromise. Say it’s on loan, from a museum, from a friend. A grand lie they all pretend to believe.”

“And what’s in your house?” you ask, reaching the top of the stairs. He pauses, eyes roaming you appreciatively. 

“Knew I picked a clever one,” he says, raising the hairs on the back of your neck. “Only originals. My own.” He leads you around a catwalk and down a hall with several doors.

“So you’re an artist?” you ask, stroking your thumb along his. It makes him squeeze your hand back. 

“Among other things,” he murmurs before stopping in front of a door with a tag hanging off the handle. Pocketing it, he enters the bedroom, locking the door behind you. 

It’s too lavish, an abundance of velvet and ruffles that makes you smirk at the raccoon’s earlier comments. He steps in and stands at the foot of the bed, waiting for you to follow. The bravery you’d mustered earlier evaporates when the door shuts, and now you hover by the edge of the bed.

“Gatita, if this isn’t what you want, I’ll leave. It’s only fun if we’re both having it.” You take in a deep breath and shake your head, stepping closer. His hands come up to smooth over your arms, moving to cup the back of your neck. Tugging you into his broad chest, his fingers find your zip and pull it ever so slightly.

“Would you like to know what I want to do to you?” he breathes in your ear, and you manage a weak yes before he starts unzipping your dress tooth by tooth.

“I’m going to remove this dress, and tease your nipples through your bra before taking it off - one handed, of course. Then I’ll lay you back and pleasure your pretty pussy with my fingers until you’re begging for my cock. Once you’re ready to explode I’ll join you in the bed and put you on all fours so I can hit deep and hard inside you. Make you cum on my dick once, then do it again. Maybe even get you to squirt if you’ve never done that. After all that, if you’re very good for me, I’ll keep making you cum all night. How does that sound?”

Could you actually orgasm from his voice alone? You sincerely worry you will as your dress slips to the floor, leaving you in your prettiest lingerie pressed against his intoxicating silks. 

“What about the masks?” you manage to get out, the stiff covering starting to itch against your overheated face.

“Let’s leave them on for now. The mystery is half the fun,” he says, hands sliding up to cup your breasts and thumb lightly at your peaked nipples. You gasp, letting your head roll back. 

“Oh, gatita, I’ll make you feel so good tonight.”

True to his word, the raccoon touches and teases you within an inch of your sanity, talented fingers caressing every erogenous zone until you’re aching and shaking with need. You swear if he even circles your clit once you’ll cum so hard you’ll need an ambulance. Want and desire burns hot in your veins, hands searching for his skin and only getting small touches. The caress of your fingers along the open expanse of his chest. Fingers entwining as he presses you down into the mattress. The skin across his lower back. He keeps just far enough away to tease, but always close enough to work you to dizzying heights. 

“Please,” you whimper after the umpteenth time he’s worked you up and stopped before you could crest. Tilting his head, he leaves another featherlight touch over your clit.

“Ask me for it,” he gruffs out, voice even deeper with desire. “Ask me to fuck you. Ask me to be inside you.” 

The words tumble out of your lips. “Please fuck me, please, any way you want. I need to feel you inside me, need to cum around you. You’ll feel so good, I’ll make you feel so good…” You could beg for hours more but he’s turning you over and moving you up the bed, settling on his knees behind you. Tugging your hips, he lifts you to crouch, hands on the bed and feet planted under bent knees. The position is new to you, but the control you feel like this, hearing the condom wrapper rip and the pops of the last few buttons on his shirt, is thick in your veins.

“Tilt your hips,” he orders, and you arch your back to offer your needy cunt to him. He stretched you well on his fingers, but just the snug fit of his head pressing inside you widens your eyes.

“Fuck, you’re big,” you gasp, earning a soothing stroke over your hips.

“Sure know how to make my cock even harder, gatita. Say it again.”

You whine through your teeth as he sinks further in, stroking two fingers over your clit.

‘“Fuck, you’re so big, my pussy’s full of you, I don’t know how it’s gonna fit inside me but fuck, I want it.” The end rushes out as he shallowly fucks into you, letting you adjust to his girth.

“Oh gatita, don’t worry, I’ll make it fit,” he promises, rolling his hips even deeper. Your arms shake with the effort of holding yourself up, mask hot and sticky with sweat as you pant into the fabric. You want nothing more than to rip it off and let him devour you, whoever he may be. 

Finally, he’s fully seated and you’re delirious with how stuffed you are. One slow stroke out makes you grip the sheets, waiting for him to fill you again.

He's not making you wait any longer. The pace is firm, steady to start, working you around his cock and soaking him with your arousal. Your calves begin to burn but you pay no mind, instead using the leverage to push back against him. He groans at this, helping guide your hips with his hot touch.

“Fuck, your pussy is goddamn divine, squeezing me so tight. I’m gonna make you cum around me and then I’ll give you what you deserve.” Your head spins as he speeds up, every thrust angled right into your g-spot with mind-blowing accuracy. Gathering slick from your dripping cunt, he circles your clit steadily as you clamp down on him, the precipice of your orgasm right at your fingertips.

“Oh fuck I’m cumming,” you squeak before your knees give out, arms buckling as you tumble into the pillows with every nerve ending singing his praises. He’s firm behind you, murmuring how good of a girl you are, how good you’re cumming on him, how hard he has to try not to cum yet. The praise melts you down into barely perceiving a world outside the pleasures of your body.

Once the aftershocks subside, your cunt even tighter around his throbbing cock, the man speaks.

“That was so good, gatita. Now hold on.” At that he begins well and truly fucking you, deep and fast with snarls dripped onto your skin. You half expect to feel a bite, but only his fingers dig in to your thighs to keep you pressed tight against him. You let him use your pussy, content just to feel him pulse inside, when his fingers return to your clit.

“Did you think I was done with this?” he pants, teasing the sensitive bud from overstimulation back to drenching pleasure as he coaxes another orgasm to the surface. “Together this time, on five, four, three…”

You can’t believe this man is going to orchestrate your orgasm, but just as he’s nearing one you feel the telltale tingle erupt into molten fire filling your lungs with a wild shout. He’s shouting too, buried in your cunt and shuddering. It takes long minutes for you both to catch your breaths, white spots dancing around the edge of your vision. Finally he eases out, tugging your knees back to lay you down. You welcome the change, body relaxing as you hear him throw out the condom and return with tissues.

“That was the best sex I’ve ever had,” you say, still a little loopy from all the endorphins flooding your brain. The raccoon man chuckles as you turn and sit up, admiring him standing in those designer pajamas, bottoms pulled up but top still open. Your mind wanders to kissing every inch of his chest, sucking a hickey into his collarbone. A small fear in your chest, unknown even to you, falls away.

“I’d like to take the mask off,” you say, looking up at the raccoon man. His hands falter, coming to his waist and tapping nervously. 

“Are you sure?” he asks, trepidation in his voice. You nod.

“It’s okay, I’m a nobody,” you say, hands on the ribbon behind your head.

“I’m not,” he says quietly, stilling your motions. He’s turning away from you, tense and anxious. You know the feeling.

“You don’t have to. I won’t ask you to. But I'm okay with you knowing me.” You tug at the ribbons and let the cat mask fall away. You skin can finally breathe, making you sigh in relief. The raccoon’s eyes snap to you, and all the hard lines of his body soften.

“You’re...more beautiful than I hoped,” he says, awe in his voice. It makes your skin heat up again, a shy smile fighting on your face. It was kind of sweet, the idea that this stranger would know you for only this night, and that it could be your secret. Even your face would be his and his alone. 

Then his hands lift to the back of his head, and the racoon mask comes away in his palms. 

A blink. Then two. Then shock paints your face. 

Did Dieter fucking Bravo just ruin your pussy?

But he’s kneeling on the bed and kissing you breathless, tearing the rest of his clothes off, and you remember the night’s still very young. 

Maybe you could share a few more secrets.

END

LJ’s Bangathon 2023

[dilf-docs]

Can We Hit It Now, Low-Down And Gritty?

dieter bravo x younger!reader

summary: the last thing you need is world-renowed asshole slash actor dieter bravo to yell at you for doing your job. he'll pay for that.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, p. in v., pwp, size kink, brat taming, degradation kink, fingering, oral (f. receiving), pussy spanking (again?! dilf-docs u horndog WE GET IT), creampie, tbh this is just pure filth pls forgive me Lord I have sinned, dieter bravo (yes that's a warning), nicknames (doll), reader is a glorified porn writer, she can also speak spanish but no physical description/nationality is mentioned

word count: 6,324 words

side note: hello someone please take away ai bots from me thank you. won't add anything else, just enjoy this horny mess sponsored by our fluffy disaster king (did enjoy writing their banter though). i need to be on horny jail bc i'm on those days and wrote this in about 24 hours talk about desperate like i'm going to hell wow if you know me irl no you don't

The set was quiet, well, as quiet as it could be: quick footsteps, flickers of lights, turning of pages, sips of freshly bought coffee and instructions yelled to the air.

That is something you can control. Like, even. But this job isn't easy, given not only what but also who you need to handle.

And speaking about the devil, here comes the who: world-renowned asshole and actor, Dieter Bravo, storming into the place with a strenuous walk.

Just what you need: he's coming in your direction with what you recognize is the movie's script in his hands.

"Who wrote this?!" he angrily shouts, glaring at the people on the set.

"I did" you stand still, defiant even. "Is that a problem?"

Dieter scoffs when he hears your response.

"Is that a problem?" he mocks. "Look at this!"

He holds up the script but you don't even bother to look at it: you've read it so many times, you could recite it from memory.

"This crap isn't going to sell" Dieter argues. "People aren't going to be interested in this story"

There's an irritated expression on his face as he looks down on you. Does Dieter think you care? Of course you knew it was bullshit as soon as you finished the first page, but you had to pay bills, and working this shitty jobs would get you closer to the contacts you needed―the only reason you're doing this in the first place.

"Tell me" he stands before you, and he's so close, you can hear his uneven breathing. "Did you really write this garbage?"

What's the point in lying? The only reason why you did is because you wanted to make him mad. Is it childish? Yes. But you have your reasons, the biggest one being that in no way would you allow a celebrity to talk down on you like that. It's one of the worst parts of your job, and not even Dieter and his handsome face would let you take his shit.

"No, I didn't. But I approved it" you cross your arms, revealing the truth. "You know, you're being very dissmisive of people's hard work because you can't stand not being so called perfect. It's called humilty, you could try"

(You don't really care about this people's hard work that much. They did a bad job, but in the end, a job. He should respect them for that, not the result. A bad one, objectively speaking)

Dieter scoffs at your response, obviously not liking the snarky tone.

"Oh, you approved it?" his tone comes out annoyed. "Which means you know it's crap, right?"

You shrug your shoulders, making him visibly frustrated with the conversation.

"This has nothing to do with me wanting to be the spotlight, you idiot" Dieter raises his voice, "did you even stop to think about the viewers?"

Okay, so now you're the villain. Frankly, it's been a bad week, and the last thing you want is this guy thinking he can get away with harrassing and talking down a less payed crew member just because he's rich, famous and hot. Whatever. If he wanted to play with fire, you'll happily be the match.

"Listen, I approved it because I want to go home and be at peace. Don't give me crap about the viewers. Of course I know this is shit! But I don't get paid enough to care. Besides, even if I wanted, I couldn't change it. You're angry at the wrong person; I'm just following orders"

Dieter clenches his fist, clearly struggling to keep his calm.

"So you just do whatever the hell the director says?" he spits in a irritated tone.

"That's about my job"

"You do know that could mean this movie flops, right? Is that how little you care about what you do?"

Dieter stands before you, crossing his arms, the veins on them popping with annoyance.

"You don't know shit about me" you reply while trying not to look at his flexing biceps too much, hoping he doesn't notice. "And I'm sorry to break it to you, but not all of us are big names that can do whatever they please or hold that much power. If it was up to me, I wouldn't hire this stupid director, writer or you, who, by the way, are way past your prime"

It's an unnecesary offense you truly didn't mean, but you hate the way he talks to you as if you were stupid. And maybe the blow felt bigger because you are a fan. Geez. You thought working with him would be a dream, despite his reputation, yet now all the claims are becoming true in the worst way possible. The last thing you need is Dieter finding out you're a fan, and even if it's a coward way out, you'll defend what's left of your dignity however it takes.

Dieter's brown eyes widen in disbelief at your petty comment. Then, they spark with rage, as he looks quite furious.

"Excuse me?! You don't get to talk about me like that" Dieter moves his ringed hands erratically in the air, as to make his point any more clear. "Do you know how hard I've worked for my career? I won't have anyone, less a little brat, tell me I'm past my prime"

You admire his career, that's the worst of it all. But the annoyance has settled deeply in between you both, and you find yourself at loss for words or energy to keep bickering. Besides, behind you, you can hear the order to continue filming in a few.

"Yeah, you don't get to talk to me like that either. I guess we're even" you sigh, tiredly. "Anything else I can help with, Mr. Bravo?"

If you could, you would cover your mouth in horror. You didn't mean to call his name like that, as if you're allured by him. Fuck Dieter. You hope he doesn't read too much into the tone.

But of course his drug-fried brain would notice that, the actor staring at you with a puzzled look when you call his name.

"Oh, now you're calling me Mr. Bravo, eh? Trying to flirt your way out of this? I'm not a dumbass, you know"

The fact that he associates the calling with flirting rather than nerves makes your eyes twitch. He keeps staring at you, heat making it's way to your face. It's like he's trying to find out if what you said was indeed flirting, and given by the smirk he's giving you, it seems Dieter's got the wrong veredict.

"I'm not stupid either, but here you're talking to me like I am"

Great. That came out even more childish than you intended.

You think the color painting your cheeks is noticeable now, as Dieter lets out a small chuckle. He then cuts the distance even more, the irritating smirk still on his face.

"Well, then don't try and play me like I'm an idiot." Dieter pauses for a moment, then continues in a teasing tone when he sees your flushed face. "Oh, you're so red... It's cute"

"Cute?" the sound you let out is a mix of a chuckle and scoff. "Did you just call me cute? Are you too trying to flirt your way out with of this?" you repeat his same words from earlier. He chuckles amused at your behavior, his smirk turning into a cocky smile as he stares down at you.

"Me? flirt my way out? I would never." he then continues to speak in an amused tone. "I call people I find cute, cute...and you are definitely cute"

"Oh, I'm not the only one then, huh? And here I thought I was special" you feign hurt, and even if you're not an actor, you hope it sells. "And here I thought we were playing the same game. Well, I suppose we're done, and you can go back to filming or complaining, whatever suits you. Oh, the director is here: now bother someone else"

"Special? Nah, can't say you are." he says playfully at your attempt to brush him off. Then Dieter glances over in the director's direction but his gaze returns to you. "Oh, I'll deal with him later, you worry about yourself, sweet cheeks"

You know it's part of the banter, but it's no news to anyone who truly knows you the insecurity you've felt after so many projects rejected, ideas scrapped and terrible dating life. The you're not special hangs in the air, suffocating you; it feels like a slap to the face. Not to be a downer or such a mood changer, but it's hard to pretend. Yeah, you couldn't be an actor even if you tried to.

"Yeah I know" you answer, this time not pretending. Your voice may have given you away, so you turn around, hoping he doesn't get to see your face fall. "You're right, I'll take care of myself or whatever you said before. Bye, Mr. Bravo" you rush the words out, embarrased at yourself and how easily he's got you wrapped around his finger.

Really? And I called him again like that? So stupid.

But he notices that your face has changed a bit, picking up the slight change. Dieter feels a slight pang of guilt for what he said, his smirk disappearing from his face. He lets out a sigh when you bid goodbye; he was having fun.

"Hey, wait a minute"

The actor reaches out and gently grabs your arm, stopping you from leaving.

"What do you want?" you dryly ask, trying to keep a stoic façade, hoping Dieter doesn't catch the racing heartbeat by touching your wrist. "Go bother someone else"

"What I want..." he pauses for a brief moment, "...is for you to not walk away"

Dieter's grasp on your wrist loosens a bit, but he still keeps a hold on you. "I made a mistake. I was being an ass"

Was he, apologizing? For a moment, it seemed like Dieter was going to admit to what he did, which was unlike him, but his voice sounded genuine.

"D-Dieter!" you squeak his name in surprise, then blushing at the embarrassing sound. "You can't be serious, I mean- I'm the one that's sorry, I was an ass first. I think I deserve that"

It doesn't make sense and yes, you deserve his apology, yet at this point you're braindead and this is nothing but just nervous rambling at his actioms, so out of character from what you've heard and know.

A small chuckle escapes from the actor's mouth when he hears you squeak his name.

"I am serious. I mean it. You did not deserve it" his light grasp on your wrist stays as he slowly runs his thumb over your skin. Dieter stands even closer, making your breath hitch.

"W-what are you doing? You realize we're on set, right?" I laugh nervously, yanking my arm, even if you want him to still hold you.

The actor slowly loosens his grasp on you and lets go of your wrist, but the relief is short-lived as he moves his hand to your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.

"Of course I know we're on set. Why? You think I'm doing something you don't like?"

Mischief glistens in his eyes, and you gulp nervously at the turn of events.

"I don't like it because it's not what I've heard from you" you confess before even stopping to think a proper answer. "You know, they warned us... to not get involved with the cast, and you? This isn't who I thought... heard- I think I'm going insane" you get very nervous, well aware you're doing a very poor job at hiding it. "Y-you have an exhibition kink or something?"

Ah, why. Yes, of course your mouth and brain had teamed up against you, the duo an expert on ruining your life.

See, it was a joke, but it comes out horribly wrong, making you cover your mouth. "Fuck, I'm sorry, I truly didn't mean-"

Dieter lets out a soft chuckle when you cover your mouth in embarrassment, clearly enjoying this.

"An exhibition kink? That's interesting. I've never been asked that before..."

His hand gently grabs your wrist, slowly moving it away from your mouth.

"Oh, don't cover your mouth. I like the things you say, although some are dumb"

"Wow, you're still hellbent on calling me dumb. I thought we were friends" you breath relieved at the way he took your stupid move, playfully nudging his side, feeling plush skin under his clothes. Fuck. You better leave before you dig this hole deeper. "So, do you or not? Answer the question. The joke may have backfired but my curiosity is still there"

"Dumb, stupid, idiot... you choose. I'm still going to call you that, doll. Can't let you off that easily" Dieter chuckles before answering your question, because of your boldness and the reappearing dark shade over your face. "Alright, I'll answer your question. Are you sure you want to know, though? You have a wild imagination"

"How do you know?" you fake gasp. "Have you read my works?"

It came out in the moment, not something you're used to saying out loud, especially when you're simply an assistant, because honestly, it's embarrassing.

Dieter gives you a small smirk when you fake gasp at his statement. He then continues to look down at you.

"I've heard some things. That some of the scenes you've written are a bit... steamy. If you know what I mean"

There is that same treacherous blush again. How could you get out of this?

"No I don't" and a tricky smile adorns your features, "enlighten me"

Great. The best way out seems to be going down.

"Is that right? You don't know what I mean? Well, you're the hand behind these love scenes, aren't you?"

The small input in this movie, by yours truly. When he received the script, he recoiled at how bad it was, almost calling his agent to call quits on the project. But then he had read the first of many scenes involving a certain type of action, and he decided to stay. Now that he stands before you, knowing it's you who's written them, he finds the discovery amusing and worth entertaining, no matter if he was initially pissed at the fact you were also part of the reasons why he wanted to quit.

A cocky smile appears on the actor's face when you get closer: he likes how, despite the embarrasing events you still find it in you to stand before him, spark behind your eyes full of mischief. It all starts to make sense, he thinks with amusement.

"Love scenes?" you taunt. "You mean the ones were they break furniture and blow off steam with the nasties sounds ever heard to human kind? Nope, doesn't sound like it; no idea what you're talking about" Then you pause, to keep suspense. You lick your lips, making sure to hold his gaze. "Unless..."

Dieter snickers when you describe the scenes; filming hadn't yet get there but he is eager. The actor's gaze is fixed on you as he lets out a low hum.

"Unless what? You can't just pause there, now that got me intrigued"

This isn't real, because he genuinely seems interested in what you'll say next.

"Unless you want to recreate them before filming, since you know, you're so damn interested. Sweeping your big nose in business you shouldn't" you called his nose big not as an offense but rather a compliment: it's literally the prettiest you've ever seen. Hell, it's not only endearment you feel towards it; you've literally wrote a scene where the female lead grinds off it, all while thinking of him. You really hope he's lying about reading your stuff. "Metiche"

Dieter lets out a surprised laugh at your comment about his nose, positive in his mind. He found it amusing that you called it big, which usually would be negative to some, but he didn't really mind. It's also funny in a way, and he finds to be enjoying this more than he should, long forgotten his complains or the movie he's supposed to be shooting as of now.

"Metiche, huh? You have quite the mouth on you"

"Do I?" are you confident, bold or stupid? "You haven't even seen anything yet, Mr. Bravo"

Dieter lets out another chuckle at your confidence. He's definitely entertained by your responses. He tilts his head while giving you a curious expression.

"Is that so? You have something more you'd like to share, doll? I'm open to see whatever you have if I haven't seen it already"

"Or read" I joke, "like I seriously need to check my friends to see who would sell me out. Did you truly read my stuff or you're just fucking with me?"

Dieter lets out another chuckle, finding your joke funny. He then gets a more serious, but still amused, expression on his face.

"I'm not messing with you, I did read some of them, including the ones on this movie. I didn't lie about that, I promise" he pauses for a brief moment, letting out an amused hum. "Y no te preocupes, linda. No estoy jugando contigo"

"If you didn't lie then I suppose you'd know who I had in mind when I wrote that scene of a guy eating a girl's pussy while she sits in his face, grinding on it. I'll give you a clue" you tiptoe, until the hot of your breathe clashes against the cold of his ear's skin, "he's got a big nose"

Dieter lets out a low hum when you drop the clue. "A big nose huh? Sounds familiar"

"It does?" you ask on an overly saccharine tone, fingers carressing the bridge of his nose, softly.

How did we get here?

He leans in a bit to get closer, clearly into your little taunts.

"Yeah, it does. And you just confirmed it too, no need to try to hide it now"

"Woah, don't let the ego win over, Mr. Bravo. A lot of people got big nose, you included" you smirk, removing your fingers from his face, and he would never admit out loud he instantly misses the warmth of your touch. "It's just coincidental you got the part and matched the character's description. You know what they say: all events depicted in this movie are fictitious. Any similarity to any person living or dead is merely coincidental" you recite.

He laughs, shyly. "I know a lot of people have big noses, but I do wonder why you chose that trait in particular"

"I wonder too" then your tone drops low, "We should try, you know, to see if it's viable before we get to filming that part... call it exploratory research"

He feels your fingers touching again his nose.

"Exploratory research, you say?" Dieter lets out a soft chuckle. "How about you be a doll and show me some of that research. I'll gladly be the test subject"

You get flustered. This went too far. Why aren't you running away, or banging your head against a wall for some common sense? This is getting ridiculous, but so is the wet spot between your legs.

"Um, I- wow, I- do you really...? No way" you become a rambling mess again, trying to steady yourself, "You want to eat my pussy?"

The words come out brash, making you cringe.

"Is that what you're saying, Mr. Bravo? You can still turn around and pretend you don't know me. Muero de pena"

Hee tilts his head to the side, looking at you with an almost wolf-like look in his eyes. He takes a step closer, so more of his body is against your own, his face closer to yours.

"Don't do that. You don't have to be embarassed, doll" his finger plays with your lower lip. "I'm saying exactly that"

"Please" voice so small it feels like you'll break, "do it"

The actor lets out a hum in response to your small voice.

"Right here...?"

"No!" you jump horrified, getting out of the horny haze for a bit. "Oh, God. Do you want to be blacklisted, Dieter?" squeaky, lowering your gaze to avoid his, resorting to playing with your fingers. "You have a room, right? They gave you one.... just for you, right?"

He nods his head in response.

"Perks of being the lead actor" he beams a bit proud with full-blown ego in display. "I have my own trailer, and it's not that far away"

"It's okay, I like walking anyways" you reply. "As a matter of fact, I like a lot of things"

The actor lets out another soft laugh in response.

"You're cheeky, you know that, baby?"

He starts to lead you towards his trailer, putting his arm around your waist. It feels big and warm, his touch making a current shoot down until it looses in between your legs. If this is what fighting and low paid terrible jobs got you, you'd do it more often.

"Cheeky? Cute? Do you want to kill me?" I laugh as we almost make it there. "Turns out, I kinda like that"

Now, where you testing your luck by keeping on running your mouth? You need to shut it up forever.

The actor chuckles when you ask if he wants to kill you, stopping in his tracks when you mention that you kind of like that. He looks down at you with a soft, yet cocky smile, but his arm still lingers around your waist.

"I've never heard a woman say that before, doll. I'm starting to believe you have some weird things you're into"

I'm a porn writer, but now you stop before saying more shit. His comment makes you flustered, getting shy all of the sudden as if you hadn't just half-admitted part of your kinks.

Whatever, what's out in the open air can't be unsaid. And Dieter seems to be just as into this as you, finally someone to match your freak after all those men whose cowardice made them leave before the fun started. I'm a porn writer, what'd you expect? It would be fun if I was into vainilla stuff.

"Weird things?" you pretend to be offended, "what do you have in mind?"

"Me? You want me to think? My head is still hurting from yesterday's hangover" he jokes, "why don't you be a doll and tell me exactly what you want?"

You smirk devilishly and he's taken back by the change of your demeanor. You were truly a little wolf disguised as a sheep.

"What I want is for you to press your weight onto me as you fuck me raw" you get red as you spill the lewd thoughts out loud, but it's what you write so it's not new. Your eyes dart to the curve of his soft belly, tight against his shirt. You look away, even redder if possible. "For the research, of course! All with purpose, to uh- See if I don't suffocate- the character, I mean!"

Your dirty words darken his brown kit-kat eyes, clearly enjoying the way you talk to him.

"Of course, for the research. Got to make sure the scene is accurate, right?"

He lets out a small hum and moves his hand on your waist, until they dig in your hips.

"Yeah, because we're professionals. Is this your trailer?" you ask, trying to deviate the conversation because your face keeps getting hotter. "This is your last chance to turn your back before this gets weirder. Hell, I might even leave the country"

The actor smiles at your comment about being professionals, finding it amusing.

"It's my trailer, doll. And I'm not turning my back after how this conversation is going. If I wanted, I would've already left. You'd have to try to get rid of me yourself"

Dieter then grabs his door handle and turns it, opening the door to his trailer. Your heart beats faster than humanely possible.

"Please don't look at me like that"

Dieter lets out a soft hum and looks down at you with a cheeky smile.

"Why not? I like to look at you"

He leads you inside the trailer. Once you're both inside, he shuts the door behind him. With lock. Hearing the click makes your heart skip a beat.

"Don't look at me like you'd do all the stupid things I've said"

The actor is clearly amused by your words.

"What makes you think I wouldn't?"

He licks his lips with anticipation, bracing himself for what's to come.

"I think you're smart. That you know what's best for you" your fingers go to his curls, and you can feel him shiver at the touch. His hungry expression goes soft for a brief moment, and you think you like that too.

"Mmm... your hands feel nice..."

You smile like the Cheshire cat. "And they feel even better when you put them to good use"

The actor lets out a low chuckle in response to your words and looks down at you with a cocky smile.

"Is that a hint, darling?"

"A hint?" you snort. "That's a whole ass answer in red, bold and capital letters"

The man lets out a loud laugh at your response.

"Damn, you're feisty with that attitude, aren't you, doll?"

"Am I?" your eyes darken, body walking in automatic, closing the distance. His soft body irradiates warmth, the section between his pants feeling hard. "Will you punish me for that?"

The actor lets out a soft hum when he feels your body against his own. Dieter's face slowly gets more lustful.

"Mmm, depends on how bad you are, doll. I could punish you if you misbehave"

"What would you count as misbeheaving, Mr. Bravo? I just want to be a good girl" you whisper, batting eyelashes.

The man smirks at your comment and the way you bat your eyelashes teasingly.

"You'll see. You wouldn't want me to spoil the surprise, doll. Being a good girl will get you a nice reward, though"

"Like" you caress his nose, "helping me on the research part?"

Dieter enjoys your teasing touch on his nose and smirks at your comment.

"Mmm, just like the research part, doll"

"Would you show me?" you ask out in a tone so sweet, he's about to come right there. He didn't think it was possible, even. So he lets out a cocky laugh as he says, tone dropping too:

"Maybe I should if you're so persistent in not believing me"

You roll you eyes. "You really think I'm that easy to convince?"

"That's not a no" Dieter smirks.

You scoff. "It's also not a yes"

His tricky ringed fingers trace until it gets in the middle of your legs, feeling your dripping arousal. He then removes the finger and licks it with his long tongue, the scene as obscene as it is but never removing his gaze from yours.

"You sure? Your words might say one thing, but your body says something else"

You get defensive, despite him cornering your frame against one of the trailers walls.

"What would you know about my body?"

Even if his eyes bear irritation, he lets out an entertained laugh.

"I see you like playing these games. Pissing me off until I shut you up myself"

"I don't care" your tongue drips in snark, and he's equally pissed and turned on.

"You're a bad liar, doll. Can't act even if your life depended on it"

You scoff, as you muster the most annoyed tone you can. "Yeah?"

"I ain't met you that long, but I can tell how your body needs me" his voice sends shivers down your spine. "Still think I'm dumb? That I can't see the way you look at me, lips almost drooling, body shaking, pleading me to touch it?" all words you could say die in your throat. "What's that? Cat got your tongue? I see you're busier getting wet"

"I-I don't know what you're talking about" but there's no confidence in your voice anymore, giving away how turned on you were. Your mind goes numb at the dangerous game you're playing, coming only to your senses when his hard cock grinds against your soaked panties.

"I think you do" Dieter bites his lip, giving your core another hard rub. "I know you'd love to feel my cock around your pretty soaked pussy. Hell, you've been begging for it"

Your mind may be backtracking, but your body definitely wasn't.

"C'mon. Stop playing hard to get, doll" Dieter chuckles, "I know you want this"

He doesn't get a word out of you, but the patch against his jeans growing wetter is enough.

"Answer me" a little moan leaves your lips as he presses himself closer, his lips devouring yours in a rough fashion. "You better talk when I tell you to. Thought you'd behave" his hand easily pulls up your knitted sweater, revealing no bra. "Damn brat. Of course you wanted this: wearin' nothing to the set and writing those scenes getting off to me like some fuckin' creep" you moan at the humiliating words coming out of his filthy mouth as he touches the rosy skin gently before giving your hardened nipple a lick and then a little bite just to hear you whine.

Dieter then grabs you by your thighs, placing you down on top of what appears to be a small kitchen's counter, his growing bulge pressed against your cunt: the hard, the cold meeting hot... it all has you incredibly turned on. You feel the cool of the rings on his hand as it starts to eagerly wander under your skirt, rubbing his middle finger in between your clothed folds.

"That's right, I wore this to have you" you moan against his lips as his fingers find your clit, making slow but steady circles, "because yes, I wrote those scenes thinking of you"

"What a bad bad girl" Dieter chuckles darkly, "wanna hear you take your well deserved punishment. And don't worry, we're far away so you can scream my name as loud as you need to, doll"

He wastes no time in giving you such, pulling down the hem of your panties until they fall down to the trailer's floor. Before him, the best sight ever revealed to men: your sticky mess of a pussy. Dieter grabs onto your thighs, spreading them slowly as he leaves a trail of kisses on the inside, his beard and fluffy hair creating tickles. He then licks the folds of your moisty entrance. When you move, you hear him tut. "Be a good girl, yeah? Stay still" and now his hands hold your thighs, keeping them in place as the rings fig in your skin. His tongue hits your sensitive folds just right, making a series of sounds leave your lips. So addicting, he thinks.

"I-I'll be a good girl" you whine, "just please. Don't stop"

Your toes curl and you begin to see stars. You're surprised he's quite compliant, adding extra pressure with his tongue, slurping on your juices with a sound so obscene, even your dirty horny mind hadn't been capable of picturing. But here he was, Dieter fucking Bravo: the reason you started writing steamy scenes and agreed to do them for this project he was starring in, him always in your mind, now eating your pussy like a starved man inside the walls of his trailer.

Your mind turns into goo and your body into a sensitive mess. Your legs start to shake, clench up and tremble, leaving you a moaning mess. You weren't going to pull away, and Dieter seemed to like that feisty side of yours, yet his hold didn't loose a bit. His index and middle finger leave your red clit and slide into your soaked nub, his thumb now doing the work on it.

"That's right, baby. Tell Dieter how much you love his fingers inside of you, you cock hungry slut"

You come all over his hand, legs tensing up as you tug his messy curls into your now tight-white fists.

"I said talk" he now grabs your hair, pulling your face closer. "Gonna be ungrateful, when I just gave you the best orgasm of your life? Say it, brat"

"Thank you, Mr. Bravo" you pant out, still recovering from the high.

That makes it two discoveries as of now:

You weren't wrong when you wrote those scenes picturing him

Dieter lived up to his reputation, because that is indeed, the best orgasm of your life

You won't stroke his ego, though. And he doesn't need it either, as he's calling you good girl while leaving love bites all over your neck. "Mine" he hisses, and you let yourself believe it for a while.

"We done, sweetheart?" you shake your head. "That's right, research has just began. Bet you want my rock hard dick inside of you now"

You whine, and he leans closer. "Why do I even ask? Gonna give you my cock for you to take like the little whore you are"

You slid your hand into his pair of briefs, giving his cock a few strokes.

"See? such a hungry girl" he seethes. "Who gave you permission, you fucking brat?"

A sting spreads across your bare clit, making you moan. That's not what you had in mind, but it's embarrassing how turned on it's making you. Well, you have some certainly interesting ideas for what to write next.

"Answer me" his tone is demanding, his large palm delivering another harsh slap to your cunt.

"N-no one"

"How do we say, then? Be a good girl and show me your manners"

"P-please!" you mewl, soon feeling his tongue soothing the pain.

"So you do know how to be a good girl" Dieter praises, pressing a light kiss to your puffy folds. "Now, where were we?"

He frees his pulsating member from the confines of the underwear, revealing his throbbing cock, ready to rub it against your folds. A little whine left your lips as he kept rocking his hips back and forth.

"Talking back to me before, where is that girl gone? All I see is a hungry slut, ready to take my cock like the little good girl she is"

Dieter pushes his tip further enough to be at the entrance of your burning hole, and you whine in frustration and need, that attitude he teases you with, long gone. All you want is him to fuck you.

"That's right, beg like the fucking whore you are"

"Just fill me up with your thick cum and fuck me until I won't be able to stand up"

"Dangerous game you playin', doll" but his expression is all hunger and no warning.

"Just fuck me" you spit. "I'm yours. Use me"

That seems to do the trick.

"Good girl" and Dieter fully pushes himself inside of you, he abuses your clit, entering him fully inside of you over and over again, not even giving you time to adjust to his girth; surprinsgly (or not), you liked it rough. His wet kisses become sloppier and rushed, landing on your lips, corners of your mouth, jaw and neck. A string of drool is on his as he pulls them out, rather prefering to hear the sounds you drowned against his lips on full volume. His hands grab you by your hips while his buck back a forth in a rough pace. Surpringsly, Dieter remembers his promise, your body caged by his bigger frame as he fucks you on the counter, feeling the swell of his belly against your lower abdomen. He pushes hard, his heavier weight making your back start to ache against the cold metal, the wall behind you digging painfully on your skin. But doesn't it feel so good?

"So fucking good" he groans, his forehead pressed against yours, breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he stares intensely into your eyes, "so tight"

You grab onto his back as he stretches you out, his pace speeding up. You moan against his ear as your nails dig further into his back with every thrust, saying his name. You come closer to your orgasm as he hits the right spot over and over again.

"Fuck... the way you beg for it, like a needy little slut. It's so fucking hot" Dieter wraps his hand around your throat, his thumb pressing lightly against your pulse point. "I'm going to ruin you, doll. Gonna fuck you so hard that you'll forget your own fucking name" his voice is a low, guttural growl, filled with a raw, animalistic desire. "All you'll know is the feeling of my cock splitting you open, claiming you"

His words and movements edge you close, sweat dripping and clinging uncomfortably to your skin due to the reduced space.

"I-I'm close again"

"But you better come with me, spoiled little girl. Ain't doin' it alone after all I've done for you" he groans, his thrusts becoming more and more aggressive.

Your walls clench against his soaked dick, his pace suddenly slowing as his cum fills your hole, coating your walls.

"F-fuck"

You try to even your breaths as he rests his head on your shoulder, bodies pressed together.

"So, was I of help?"

You chuckle at his attempt for small talk.

"You di good, Dieter. Mission accomplished"

"Right" he sounds a bit dissapointed, making the corners of your lips raise. "Well, If you ever need a helping hand" he wiggles his brows, "you know were to find me"

"I do" you press a brief kiss to his lips. "As a matter of fact, you can also tell me when you need my helping hand" said hand travels down, feeling his dick hard again. The sight alone makes you drool. "What'd you say, cowboy? Up for analyzing the collected data? We didn't even try with your nose"

"I knew it was mine!"

[wannab-urs]

Never Have I Ever

Summary: You and Dieter play never have I ever and it gets spicy. Warnings: MDNI | 18+ | sub!dieter, dom!reader, alcohol consumption (not during the smut), pet names, SMUT, discussion of safe words (not used), referring to your dildo as your cock, aftercare. WC: 1.7k A/N: Written for @yxtkiwiyxt Kiwi’s Never Have I Ever challenge (open til March 1) and for my own Dom that Middle Aged Man Campaign (closed). I hope you love it <3 Thanks to @pedgito and @murder-wife for beta reading!!

Dieter Bravo Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

“Okay, okay, what’s the next card?” 

Dieter grabs a card off the stack and holds it up, squinting to read it in the low light of your living room. 

“Never have I ever… acted out my sexual fantasy,” Dieter reads. He blushes but doesn’t take a drink. You knock back a shot of whiskey before looking at him incredulously. 

“Really Di?”

Dieter flushes even harder, if possible, and looks at the ground.

“Well what is your fantasy? I find it hard to believe you haven’t acted it out, to be honest.” 

He brushes a hand through his hair and stares at the floor as he answers. “It’s not that I haven’t acted out fantasies before I guess, but like my main one? Never.” 

“I’m dying to know what could be so crazy you’ve never acted it out.” 

“It’s not that crazy… I just want a woman to… you know… like… top me?” 

“Top you or dom you? Or both?” The whiskey is making you bold. Dieter is a friend (with benefits of course) and you normally wouldn’t push him so hard on this or admit what you’re about to admit. “My sexual fantasy just so happens to be topping a man.”

Dieter looks up at you then, looking embarrassed and more than a little excited. “You drank on this one… So you would know what you’re doing?” 

“I would.”

“Do you wanna have sex with me? Like right now?” 

“Oh Di, you’re wasted… I’m wasted. You know the rules.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Tomorrow then?” His puppy dog eyes meet yours and you almost cave right then. 

“Tomorrow,” you smile at him. 

You wake up sweating, sunlight streaming into the room and heating it up plus Dieter’s body practically on top of you. He’s a spider monkey in his sleep, always clinging onto you with all four limbs when you stay over. You push him off of you a little bit and you take in his sleeping face. 

He’s handsome always, but especially when he’s asleep. A loose curl is dangling over his forehead and some of the lines in his face are smoothed out – it’s the only time he’s relaxed without being high. You press a kiss to his cheek and he stirs, eyes blinking open sleepily. 

“Good morning,” he says with a dopey smile. 

He leans up and kisses you chastely, but you deepen the kiss immediately. His tongue slides into your mouth, slow and exploratory like you haven’t done this a hundred times. You pull back and kiss the tip of his nose.

“You still up for what we talked about last night?” You half whisper, afraid he’ll chicken out. 

“Please?”

“Off to a great start already, baby boy.” Dieter blushes and drops his eyes from yours, embarrassed and pleased by the pet name all at once. “We’re gonna use the stoplight system for our safeword. Do you know what that is?”

“Yeah! I use it when I’m the one in charge.”

“Great. I also want you to refer to me as ma’am during the scene, is that okay?”

“Perfect… ma’am.” 

“Good boy. Let’s get started then.”

You push him down into the mattress and climb on top of him, straddling his waist. “I want you to keep your hands to yourself, either on the bed or above your head holding the headboard. Is that okay?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” He’s so eager to please, his eyes wide and his lips in a perfect pout. 

You kiss him then, pushing your tongue into his mouth, taking control of the kiss entirely. He’s left to take what you give him, and to his credit, he doesn’t fight you for dominance. You kiss down his jaw to his neck, trailing your lips over his collarbone and down to his chest. His hands twitch by his sides, but he doesn’t move them. 

You drag your lips down until you meet his sweats, then pull back so you can strip them off. His gorgeous cock bobs up to his stomach, already hard and leaking precum. You take him in your hand and lick from root to tip, sucking the head into your mouth. His hands fly up to the headboard, white knuckle gripping it to keep from touching you. 

You pull off him and tell him to stay just like that while you grab lube from the bedside table. He obeys perfectly and you have to pause to collect yourself. His immediate submission is so fucking hot. You crawl back onto the bed and settle between his parted thighs. 

“Do you still want me to fuck you, baby boy? It’s okay if not.” 

“Yes, please, ma’am.”

You smile at him and coat your fingers in lube. One finger circles his hole while you take his dick in your mouth again. You push him to the back of your throat and swallow around him until he’s buried in your throat. He whimpers and you moan around his cock as you push one finger into his hole. He’s always been vocal, but whimpers are few and far between. 

Dieter starts pushing back against your fingers, fucking in and out of your mouth. You pin his hip down with your free hand and pull off of him. “Stay still, sweetheart.” 

Dieter whines but stops fucking himself on your finger. You add a second finger and start stretching him as you take his cock back in your mouth. The sounds pouring from his mouth are sinful and you’re dripping wet for him. You’re trying not to let on just how turned on you are. His balls start to draw up and you quickly remove your fingers from his ass and your mouth from his cock. He whines but doesn’t protest. 

“Can’t have you coming this early, now can we?”

Dieter shakes his head pitifully. You let him calm down and then repeat your actions, winding him up again only to pull off him completely and wait for him to calm down. You want to hear him beg. And you aren’t disappointed. 

“Please, please just fuck me, please. I can’t take it anymore.”

 You swat his thigh. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”  

“Ma’am. Please ma’am, I need you.” He’s so pretty when he begs, you really can’t resist. 

You strip and stuff your panties in his mouth. His muffled whines are even hotter now. 

“You’re being such a good boy for me, baby. I’m gonna make you feel so good.” He looks blissed out at the praise. “If you need to safe word, you can move your hands to take out the panties, okay?”

He nods to show he gets it and you climb off the bed and get your strap from the nightstand. You coat it in lube and tell Dieter to turn over and stick his ass in the air. He complies immediately and you admire his ass and the way his swollen cock dangles between his thighs. He’s so pretty. 

You get behind him on your knees and slowly push the dildo into his hole. He whines long and low, only slightly muffled by the panties in his mouth. You pull out and push back in deeper, working your way into him slow and easy. When you bottom out, you both groan. Him at the full feeling and you at the way he looks stretched around your cock. 

You hear him mumble “please,” through his gag and it turns you on so much you can barely think straight. You pull out of him to the tip of your dildo and snap your hips forward, fucking him hard and fast. 

“Spit out the panties, I wanna hear you.” 

He complies, whining and begging for you to let him come. “Please, ma’am. Please I need to come, you feel so good.” 

“Tell me when you’re close, baby.” 

He whines but doesn’t stop you yet. You slow down and make sure to rub at the bundle of nerves inside him with every thrust, slowly grinding your cock into it. He starts crying and you think you could come just from that alone. 

“I’m close! Please, ma’am I’m so close, please let me come.” 

You pull out of him completely and he collapses to the mattress, whining and crying. 

“Turn over baby boy, I promised I’d make you feel good didn’t I? You trust me?”

“Yes ma’am, I trust you.” He turns over and spreads his thighs, gripping onto the headboard in anticipation. 

“Good boy, color?”

“Green, ma’am.”

You take off your strap and toss it on the floor to deal with later. 

‘I’m gonna ride you now, baby. You come whenever you’re ready.”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”

“So polite,” you stroke his cheek with your thumb and drag it across his plump lips. He takes the digit into his mouth and sucks. You climb on top of him and line him up with your hole before sinking all the way down. You moan in unison, you at the stretch and him at your tight wet heat. 

You place your hands on his thighs behind you and start bouncing on his cock, taking him deep and fast. You’re just as wound up as he is and desperate to come. You bring one hand to your clit, rubbing in furious circles to keep up with your pace. Dieter plants his feet and starts to fuck up into you and you don’t even stop him, too close to coming harder than you ever have in your life to stop him now. 

You feel the coil in your belly winding tighter and tighter, and with one final snap of Dieter’s hips you come apart, moaning his name. The way you get impossibly tighter around him sends Dieter over the edge as well and he fills you so full you feel it leaking out of you around him. You collapse onto his chest, breathing heavily. He wraps his arms around you and nuzzles his face into your hair. 

“That was… so fucking amazing,” Dieter whispers. 

“Yeah, it really was.” You push yourself off of him and roll off the bed. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

You head to the bathroom and wet a washcloth, cleaning between your thighs. You get a fresh one and take it out to Di, gently cleaning his spent cock. You lie down next to him and pull his head onto your chest. 

“You did so good for me, baby,” you tell him as you run your fingers through his curls. He nuzzles into your chest and wraps an arm around you, falling asleep with that dopey grin of his on his face. 

[absurdthirst]

A Roman Romp {Deiter Bravo *AS* Marcus Acacius x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 9.9k

Warnings: Drug mentions, power imbalance, fucking the boss, clitoral play, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, oral sex (male receiving), derogatory names, role play, rough sex, Dieter being unbelievably bad with emotions, costume play.

Comments: You've found a niche as Dieter Bravo's assistant. Taking care of him and sleeping with him work surprisingly easy until his new role as a Roman general makes you completely feral for him.

A/N: Completely inspired by the sexy, bloody gifs.

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.

“Deeper. Raspier.” You decide, ignoring the frown of the man in front of you as you contemplate the voice pitch he has changed into. Dieter Bravo loves to experiment with his voice and facial expressions, but being the consummate narcissist that he is, he doesn’t like it when it’s not immediately loved by all. You don’t work that way and he knows it. It’s why you are permitted to run through the dialogue with him and read the scripts when most assistants just scheduled appointments and bring the actors they work for the page changes. “This is a man who has screamed throughout the bloodiest battles, who has inhaled the smoke from a hundred thousand fires. He’s hardened by battle, by death, and he shows it.” You explain, painting a picture for him to visualize from the comfort of his plush designer sofa in his Sherman Oaks mansion.

Dieter nods, shifting to sit up and he clears his throat. “You’re right. He’s seen shit we could never imagine. He needs to be tortured but capable.” Dieter decides and rolls his shoulders. His eyes focus on the script and he says “I declare for Rome. For her Emperor. For her people.” He deepens his voice, letting it catch to be raspier than before. “How was that?” He asks, face softening as he expectedly looks at you.

Despite the massive ego, the demands, and his ability to act like a twelve year old boy at times, Dieter is surprisingly needy. He craves acceptance, like a feral cat who spits and hisses when you get too close, but is desperate to be loved on their own terms. You deal with him delicately at times, more harshly at others, all while understanding that neediness. It’s what made you work well for him. “That was good.” You nod in approval.

He thanks you with a slightly dazed, soppy smile, like he's grateful for the approval. Like it means the most coming from you. "Yeah?" He asks, hungry for more praise and you nod. He stares at you for a second before he looks back at the script, continuing with the new voice he's found for the character and he continues practicing his lines, his eyes drifting over to you every now and then as he seeks approval.

This time he runs through the lines without you reading the other parts, but sometimes he wants you to voice the other characters, to give him a tone to feed off of. Since the Cliff Beasts debacle and you coming to work for him, Dieter has been determined to win another Oscar and you think this might be the role to do that.

“I’m trying on the costumes this afternoon.” Dieter tells you like you didn’t already know that. You know every detail of his schedule. “I know.” You chuckle softly and he flushes slightly, “yeah. I am hoping it’s going to help me find the character posture.” He confesses, “and I get to check out my trailer before filming begins in a couple days.”

That’s code for he wants the trailer to feel like his own personal retreat so you need to pack up all of his favorite things. Like you hadn’t already planned that. “I will make sure that you can relax.” You promise, shooting him a soft smile. “Your favorite incense and candles, that serenity stone and I’ll pack up your favorite sheets to bring with us today.”

“You’re the best.” Dieter compliments you and it’s a rare occasion but he’s sincere as he offers you a soft smile. “I’m gonna go smoke a little before we go to the studio. Can you go get some tacos for me?” He asks, “carnitas.” He decides with a nod as he relaxes against the sofa.

“Sure thing, boss.” You wink at him and put a little away in your walk as you leave the room, knowing his eyes are on your ass. This thing you have with Dieter is incredibly easy and complicated at the same time. You sleep together, pretty damn often, but you aren’t his girlfriend. He’s sworn off relationships since Kate and Anika, but it’s not like you can blame him. You get sex and as a bonus, it puts your boss into a better mood for you to deal with him professionally. It doesn’t hurt that you care about him a lot, love him really, but that’s something you would never admit to him. You know that you just fill a void in his life.

Dieter watches until you disappear and he sets his script down, rubbing his scruffy cheek. Fuck, you’re so goddamn gorgeous. Too good for him to touch you honestly and he knows he’s putting everything on the line. Losing you would mean losing his assistant but also his best friend and some of the best fucking sex he’s ever had. He can’t tell you anything about how he feels in case you’re scared off and he loses it all. With a sigh, he looks back at his script and waits for you to return like the lovesick fool he is.

It doesn’t take you long, the place where you go makes the best fucking tacos and they know how Dieter likes them. He’s ordered from there often enough while he’s high. You get some extras because he said he wanted to smoke some weed when he gets back from having his costume fitted and you know he will have the munchies. Picking up some salad because you know he won’t eat greens unless you get them. “I’m back.” You sail through the door with the paper bag and grin. “You eat and I’ll get the bag together for your trailer.”

Dieter groans at the smell of the tacos and he pats the space next to him. “Come and sit down with me, babe.” He orders, wanting you to eat as well. You run around after him all the time and he knows you don’t always remember to eat.

“Okay.” You don’t argue, just plopping down beside him and handing him the agua fresca you had ordered for him from the drink carrier. “I can eat and then I’ll make sure we get you settled into your trailer.”

Dieter reaches out to squeeze your leg. He’s always been a touchy feely kind of man, needing that physical connection. That’s why he wants sex so much. He loves to feel wanted and to be touched. “You’re the best.” He says around a mouth full of tacos.

“You might not think so when you see this.” You tease, pulling out the salad to set in front of him. He doesn’t argue but he does pout, swallowing the mouth of tacos and sighs. “Did you get that adobo dressing?” He asks hopefully, knowing he would eat anything as long as that stuff is on it. “Two of them.” You promise. “So you can have one for a salad on set.”

“Fuck yes. You’re - you’re the fucking best. No one comes close to you. Literally no other assistant is like you, babe.” Dieter praises with a mouth full of tacos. His last assistant couldn’t make him hard and he certainly couldn’t make him eat salad. He was authoritative and while Dieter likes to be submissive, when it comes to his work, he is the one in control.

You shouldn’t let the praise get to you, knowing that Dieter is always expressive when he’s happy and then can throw full tantrums when he’s not. Still, you smirk and lean forward to grab a taco for yourself after putting a straw in your own drink. “That’s why you pay me so well.” You remind him. “Don’t forget you still have to make that happy birthday video to send to your niece.” You take a sip of your drink. “I’ve already sent the gift from you. It’s a battery operated kiddie jeep. She will love it.”

Dieter nods, knowing he would have completely forgotten about her birthday. He loves his niece but his brother is a stiff prick. Always the golden child. Better at everything including being monogamous and heterosexual. He went to college, got his finance degree. Has the wife and 2.5 kids in Dallas and Dieter is…never good enough. Even when he’s won a fucking Oscar. “I gotta go see that kid soon. Make sure she’s not fucking boring like her dad.” He snorts as he wipes his mouth.

“Let me know when you want to go and I’ll work it into your schedule.” You promise, reminding yourself to remind him of it when filming ends for this movie. He always wants to go somewhere after he’s wrapped a movie. “Just let me know and I’ll take care of everything.” From his flight to the drugs, you will make sure he has everything he needs.

“Thanks.” He murmurs, unsure if he wants to deal with his family. Especially his parents. He left Texas to come to L.A when he was eighteen and he struggled until he got spotted while he was failing at being a waiter. “You need a break too. At some point.” He announces as he reluctantly digs into his salad even with the adobo smothering it.

“I get breaks.” You remind him. But it’s true you don’t get them often. Even when Dieter travels, he brings you with him. He likes having you close and it’s not something you are completely opposed to. Spending months in Croatia or China is amazing. You reach over and brush his hair back and kiss his cheek. “Thank you for eating your salad.”

He loves the praise and hates that he loves it. His life is messy and the last thing he wants to do is lose you because he ruins it with his personality. At least like this you’re at a distance. “Fucking lettuce.” He grumbles and takes another bite, tilting his cheek out so he can get another kiss.

You grin against his skin as you pepper his cheek with little kisses. You don’t mind when he’s like this. It’s sweet, even if it’s needy. Dieter so desperately wants love and for someone to adore him. He just manages to ruin every relationship he gets in when someone new shows up and showers him with attention. You know that it’s possible with your situation. You just have to deal with it.

Dieter loves the way you give him affection and he chews his salad after you pull away, he looks down at the salad, setting it down after a moment to dig into another taco. “Tacos are better.” He decides and watches as you dig into your own food.

“I know they are, baby.” He hates eating salads and you try to make it fun most of the time, but there’s no chance against tacos. “But this counterbalances the tacos. You’ve been doing so good at the gym. That sexy body needs the good stuff for all those fight scenes.”

Dieter has definitely had to put in time at the gym to make sure he’s getting in shape for this role. He had a nutritionist and personal chef come in for the past few months and he’s done pretty good building up his arms. “Yeah? You think I’ll look convincing?” He asks, eager for your approval of the body he’s been working out for.

“You’ll be amazing.” You promise him. “You already have a look that can be so authoritative, but put you in Roman armor?” You groan quietly and shake your head. “I thought Maximus was sexy, but your Marcus Acacius will blow him out of the water.”

Dieter flushes slightly, ducking his head at your praise, and he loves how you compliment him. “Yeah? You think I’ll be sexy in the costume?” He smirks, “and the sex scene.” He adds, “gonna watch me on the closed set?”

You knew there was a sex scene, but you didn’t think Dieter would want you there. “If you want me to.” You tell him. “I know that day will be a long one for you.”

Dieter nods, reaching for your hand after he wipes his clean. “I want you there. I always want you there.” He admits, “I just - you know me best in that department and I want to make sure it looks real, natural.”

You could point out that Dieter has had so many more lovers than you have, but you don’t. “You’re going to look even sexier then.” You promise. “They are going to create a new Oscar category just for you. Best Sex Scene.”

Dieter chuckles, “I fucking wish. I could win that every damn year.” He says with conviction, “especially if I was filmed with you.” He says and winks, picking up the salad to reluctantly finish it even with the dressing.

You hum in approval and quickly finish your own taco before you pat his leg gently. “Let me go get you packed up so we can leave, baby.” You murmur. “You don’t want to be late with Wardrobe.”

Dieter nods, watching you get up and his eyes drop down to your ass again as you make your way into his room to get what he needs. You do everything for him and he can’t ever pay you enough for putting up with his shit.

Less than an hour later, you have Dieter loaded up in the car and you are headed to the studio where you will be filming the fight scenes. Some of the location work will be later but they want to get the fights filmed first to give them plenty of time to work on the CGI. Dieter decided to let you drive so he could read over the script again. “Don’t worry. While you are with wardrobe, I’ll get the key to your trailer. We can take a picture outside with your name on it for you IG.”

Dieter sighs, he hates social media but he knows it’s needed for him to keep himself relevant when his industry is suddenly flooded with fucking Tik Tok stars and IG models. “Sure.” He adjusts his sunglasses on his nose as he reads over the script, “you really think the voice is right?”

“That voice went straight to my pussy.” You admit, knowing that confession will give him a smug grin. He likes knowing when something turns you on. “Yeah?” His normal voice instantly changes to the once he had practiced for Marcus and you make sure to squirm in the driver’s seat a little. “Yeah, it’s good. Panties around the world will explode.”

Dieter smirks, imagining the reaction with his fans but he doesn’t care about their panties exploding when he only wants yours to explode. Sure, it helps his career to still be considered a sex symbol but he wants you to want him more than any woman thirsting on Twitter.

You giggle quietly to yourself, guiding the car to the studio and you get parked. “Okay. Do you want to see the trailer first and figure out where it is? I can get it set up while you are in wardrobe?”

“Yeah. I wanna see if they gave me a good one or if they put me in the fucking back again.” He had a meltdown when his trailer was at the very end of the lot on his last project. He’s a fucking Oscar winner not someone doing their first fucking movie. You nod and he gets out while you gather the bags with his things. He doesn’t ask if you need help. That’s never really been his nature so you carry the bags to the trailer that’s been assigned as his. “First row. Now that’s more fucking like it.” He declares as he claps his hands.

You chuckle at his enthusiasm and follow him into the trailer. It’s perfectly clean and sterile in that brand new kind of way and it will bother Dieter if it stays that way for too long. “I’ll get all this set up to your liking.” You promise.

Dieter looks around before his eyes find yours again, "that would be awesome." He declares, "oh and get me some Kit Kats. You know I love snacking on those ever since Cliff Beasts." He shivers slightly at that movie. Something he took in the desperation of the pandemic when he was stuck at home alone and was losing his mind.

“Kit Kats.” You nod and walk up to him, sensing that he needs a little affection. You caress his cheek and press your lips to his. “You are going to be amazing.” You promise him. “We will make sure this is the best film shoot you’ve ever had.”

Dieter appreciates you and he sighs, “I better get to costume to try everyone on.” He hates costume design but he needs to get there since it’s his time and they will need to do adjustments. “I better go, babe.” He kisses your cheek and exits the trailer, disappearing while you sort out his trailer.

You run and get the KitKats and make four more trips from the car for the bags of stuff for Dieter’s trailer. Stripping the basic sheets off the bed, you replace them with the Egyptian cotton ones that are 2500 thread count, which he loves. Shoving the pillows that were on the bed into a small compartment because he prefers down alternative pillows and putting the soothing weighted blanket over it all. The candle and incense is already burning and there’s a whiff of sage still, letting Dieter know that you’ve done all the things he claims helps clear his mind and calm him down. The basket full of KitKats next to the room temperature San Pellegrino bottles that he prefers when his throat hurts. The small refrigerator is stocked with other drinks and you look around satisfied that he will be comfortable.

Dieter stares at himself in the mirror in his costume and he smirks, knowing you’re going to lose your mind when you see the armor on his body. It’s surprisingly heavy and he didn’t think they’d use metal but they have. He likes the weight of it, it helps him get into character a bit more. The costume designers take notes on adjustments and he changes back, making his way to his trailer. “Fuck. You are amazing.” He compliments as you fluff the pillows you brought from his home.

You hum in delight and turn back to look at him. “That’s what I’m here for.” You motion to the trailer. “Think you can decompress here?”

He nods, groaning as he lays down on the bed. “Come here.” He opens his arm to invite you to lay with him and you follow his order, making him sigh and he shifts to curl around you. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He confesses, burying his face in your neck.

“Be late.” You tease, stroking his side and chest and you let him hold you. “Wear the same thing for a week and eat nothing but tacos.” You enjoy taking care of Dieter and for all his selfishness, you appreciate the moments like this where he acknowledges everything you do for him. “How did costume fitting go?” You ask, sensing that he’s in a pretty mellow mood so it must have been good.

Dieter loves how you touch him and he nuzzles into your neck, pressing a soft kiss there. “It went well. They just have to do some minor adjustments. I- I am worried that I look - that I’m too old to do this part. The fighting. Will I look believable?” He asks, a frown on his face as he pulls back to look at you.

“Completely believable.” You promise, reaching up to run your fingers through the longer curls that he’s grown out for this role. “You will look like the war-hardened general. Experienced and trained by years of fighting.” You remind him. “Generals have wisdom. They’ve experienced heartache and lost men. They are supposed to have some gray in their hair and beards.” You bring your fingers down to scratch through his facial hair, knowing how much he likes that. “They might have to add some more. You don’t have quite enough to be that salt and pepper look, if that’s what they want. You’re gonna win another Oscar. I just know it.”

Dieter loves how confident you are in his abilities and that makes him feel more secure, makes him a better actor. “Thank you.” He whispers, leaning in to kiss your jaw. “You - I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He murmurs, closing his eyes. You hum, continuing to stroke his hair until he blurts out, “I want Chinese for dinner.”

You are so used to the way that Dieter suddenly shifts gears that it’s nearly automatic. “The fancy or the nasty?” You ask, wondering if he’s wanting the upscale Chinese fusion place or the tiny little hole in the wall that makes the best egg rolls you’ve ever eaten in your life.

He ponders it for a second, “the nasty.” He offers you a smirk. “The greasy egg rolls. The fried rice.” He groans at the thought, “then tomorrow I’ll be good. I’m training tomorrow.” He tells you like you don’t know his schedule off by heart.

“Sword training.” You agree. “Bright and early at seven.” He groans pitifully and pouts at the early morning call. “I’ll make sure that you have a powerful protein smoothie first thing.”

Dieter groans, “smoothies and sword training. Seven? Fuckkkkk.” He moans and curls around you again. “Baby baby baby. Let’s go back to mine and then we can get dirty Chinese food and then I can eat my dessert.” He smirks, sliding his down between your legs to cup your cunt through your leggings.

“Yeah?” You moan quietly, always loving how his large hands feel on your body. “We can call and pick it up on the way.” You don’t call it home, because technically you don’t live with him although you spend most nights at his house. “Maybe a bath after and I can rub your back before you fall asleep.”

“Fuck you spoil me. I gotta call Sally and tell her to give you a damn raise.” He groans, telling you he wants his manager to make sure you’re looked after. He presses his fingers against your clit through your leggings, wanting to hear you moan again.

You don’t bite your lip, knowing that Dieter doesn’t want you to suppress your sounds. He’s always greedy for the sounds you make, greedy for the approval. His fingers press insistently against your bundle of nerves expertly. “Dee, baby, that feels so good.” You praise breathlessly.

He loves hearing your praise. He’s greedy for it and he hisses when you lean in to kiss his jaw. His fingers continue to press against your bundle of nerves, pressing and rubbing, wanting you to fall apart for him.

“Dee, baby.” You arch your hips up under his hand, grinding your clit down against his fingers. “You’re gonna make me cum. Fuck, I’m going to ruin these panties.”

He wants to hear your sweet cry. He groans, hardening in his pants, “I’ll buy you more.” He promises, continuing to rub you through the material. “Cum for me, sweetheart. Want to hear those sweet fucking moans.” He urges you on.

It doesn’t take long when Dieter wants to make you cum. He’s a skilled enough lover to have learned you, since you’ve slept with him so much. You hold onto his arm, gasping in pleasure until your toes curl. “Deeeeee!” You cry out, closing your eyes when the wave of pleasure washes over you and heat fires through your core.

He hisses when your thighs squeeze his hand, keeping him trapped there while you squirm through your orgasm. “Fuck you’re so pretty when you cum.” He coos, watching you with fascination.

You doubt that. Sometimes you are a little disbelieving that he finds you sexy, but you understand that he might want you to think that so you continue to sleep with him. Whining drowsily, you pull him close and press your lips to his. “Do you want to break in this bed now or go home?”

Dieter smirks against your lips, "come on baby. Let's do it. Break in the bed then we will get Chinese food." It sounds like a fantasy he's jerked off to thinking about you. He is already hardening in his pants and he groans when you reach down to squeeze his bulge. "How do you want me?" He asks, "cowboy? doggy? waterfall? little dipper? the socket?" He lists off positions with raised eyebrows.

You squeeze his cock again and then slide your hand under the waist band to wrap around his shaft. Dieter moans and he twitches in your hand. “How do you want me?” You ask. “You know it’s the Big Dipper with this cock.” You tease, knowing how much he loves being praised for how big he feels inside you. “Do you want to fuck me? Or have me do the work?”

Dieter loves to be a pillow prince but right now, he wants to fuck you. "Strip off and lay on your side." He demands, his voice lowering as his cock twitches at the thought of sliding inside of you. You're so hot and wet, like fucking velvet, and you make his toes curl.

You have no problem stripping for him, he’s seen you naked more times than you can count. Pulling your bra down your arms, you toss it to the floor after pulling your shirt off and quickly strip down the leggings and ruined panties. “Are you going to fuck me wearing clothes or are you stripping too?”

Dieter wants to be naked too. He loves being naked. He would spend all weekend naked if he could. He shuffles off the bed and scrambles to pull his shirt over his head, shoving his sweats down to expose his hard cock. You lay down and he shifts to lay behind you, reaching down to grip his cock. He pumps himself a few times, "lift your leg, baby. I want to slide inside that wet pussy."

Lifting your leg gives him the access he wants and you reach back for his hip. Wanting to touch him as he rocks his hips forward. “It’s so wet.” You promise. “I need you inside me, Dieter.”

He shuffles closer, notching himself at your entrance as he pushes into you. "Fuckkk." He groans as your walls envelop him and he pushes deeper until he's nudging your cervix. "Fuck. So fucking wet." He lets go of his cock and grabs your leg, gripping it to keep it elevated.

“Shit.” Your body lights up when he pushes inside you. Taking him up on his offer of sex about four months after you started working for him had been the best decision you ever made. You squeeze your tits and moan, clenching down around him. “Feels so fucking big, baby. You fill me up perfectly.”

Your praise makes him twitch inside you. He loves it when you praise him, it makes his heart flutter and his stomach clench. "Fuck, you're so tight. Tightest little pussy I've ever fucked." He confesses and he has lost count of how many sexual partners he has had. He hadn't ventured out of your bedroom since a few weeks after you started sleeping together. He has become addicted to your body and he can't keep away from your bed. His fingers squeeze your flesh as he starts to rock into you.

You lean your head back against his shoulder and moan. “Easy to say when-“ you gasp when he pushes deep. “Your fat cock makes anything tight.” Your hand reaches back to caress his face, knowing how much Dieter loves to be stroked and caressed while fucking. “God baby, you just ruin me.” You honestly don’t know how you will get over losing the sexual part of your relationship when Dieter gets bored, but you know it will come eventually. Hell, you’re surprised it hasn’t already happened if you’re honest with yourself. But regular sex is something Dieter craves and you have never turned him down, your own sex drive is pretty high.

Dieter loves the praise, fuck, he loves hearing the way he makes you feel spill from your lips. His thrusts become harder and he hisses when you clench around him. “Fuck.” He groans and turns his head to kiss your palm, his other arm is trapped beneath you but he doesn’t care.

You feel that need in the frantic push of his hips. He’s craving the closeness he feels from sex and you push your ass back, encouraging him. “Yes baby, need this. Needed you to fuck me.” You pant. “Always need it.”

He grips your leg, shifting it more towards your stomach and he groans at the new angle. You’re so much tighter like this. “Fuck baby. You - you’re the best. The fucking best.” He murmurs, kissing along your shoulder.

The weight of him on top of you presses you into the bed, making it harder to push back against him, but you just squeeze him tight every time he thrusts back into you. “Deeeee.” You whine, loving the angle of his cock battering against your cervix. He feels like he’s in your guts when he pushes his hope forward. “Fuck baby, that cock is soooooo good.”

Dieter shifts his hips again, trying to find that spot inside you that makes you scream his name. He wants the entire fucking studio to know who is fucking you like this. He groans when you squeal on his best thrust and he focuses on that spot, wanting you to cum for him.

He’s demanding today. Your moans and squeals come easily, fingers gripping the covering on the bed. You’ll have to make it again later, but you don’t care. He feels amazing pounding into you against that spot. “Dee- Dieter- I’m- I’m gonna-“ you pant, trying to talk while he’s fucking you but it’s nearly impossible. “Oh shit!” You scream, clamping down around his cock when you feel the pressure suddenly reach its peak.

The way you gush around him has him panting as he tries to work himself into your cunt as you grip him like a vice. “Fuck fuck fuck.” He hisses, pushing deep. He’s never been great at stamina without drugs so sober, he’s thrusting into you a half dozen more times until he’s painting your walls with his cum.

You groan softly, feeling the hot pulse of his cum filling you. You have an IUD, and Dieter has regular STI testing for insurance reasons and you love that he feels comfortable enough to not use protection with you. “That’s it baby, that’s it.” You reach back and hold his head, wanting to touch him as he rides out his orgasm and collapses on top of you with a breathless huff.

“Fuck. I really don’t pay you enough.” He chuckles breathlessly. “Best fucking pussy in L.A.” He compliments while he’s drunk on his orgasm and he kisses your shoulder, enjoying the feel of your hot cunt wrapped around his softening cock.

You snort at his comment and relax against the pillow. It could be ten minutes or an hour before Dieter moves but you always love the way he collapses into you bonelessly. “If I charged you for my pussy, you wouldn’t be able to afford it.”

Dieter snorts, “probably not.” He doesn’t deny that. Sure, he’s had sex workers in his bed before but you are his assistant and there’s an emotional connection he hasn’t found before. He’s addicted to it and he can’t let you go. He is excited to start this new project with you by his side.

****

“Dieter has an interview at twelve that day, so that shouldn’t be a problem.” You tap a pencil against your notepad as you pour over his schedule. “As long as he doesn’t go over we can make it to the studio by four and then have him ready.” His manager is on the other side of the zoom call, video feed in the corner of your computer, wanting to squeeze in a late night talk show to talk about the movie being released next month, while also teasing about this movie. “Will that work for them?”

“Yeah. We can make that work.” His manager and his PR team agree and you add it to his schedule. “We can also get him on that podcast in the next week, if he has a gap. It’s about sexual exploration and of course people know he is quite active. I think it will develop some big hit content. As long as he doesn’t talk about drugs.” His manager sighs.

“He’s been doing a lot better.” You remind them. “Working out for this film is doing wonders for him, even if he complains. He’s just smoking a little weed on the off days.” You look over his schedule again. “On Thursday he is supposed to have a half day of shooting, if we can reschedule his meeting with the accountant, he could do the podcast then?”

His manager hums and looks over the PR team who nods, confirming it with the podcast booker. “That will work. So that’s his schedule for the next month. Thanks for all your hard work. I know he’s not the easiest to handle.” His manager snorts just as Dieter opens the door to his trailer. He’s still in costume, covered in fake blood and dirt and he’s exhausted. He slumps onto the sofa with a groan.

“Okay, I’ll get back with you all later.” You promise, closing out the Zoom call and turning to look over at Dieter. It’s the first time you’ve properly seen him in costume and your mouth drops open. “Holy shit.” You hiss, clenching your thighs together as you take in the raw, rough and frankly sexy view of Dieter as a Roman general.

Dieter doesn’t notice your interest in his costume, rubbing his forehead as he is hot from the fighting. He’s exhausted. It’s been days of trying to get the scene just right. Including more takes than he’s ever known to cover the reaction of the crowd, of the emperor, of his lover in the stands. “It’s been a long fucking day.” He whines, opening one eye to look at you.

“Yeah?” Your voice is a little raspy, making you clear your throat as you sit up straighter and bite your lip. “It’s been a long day, baby?” You ask, wishing for a moment that Dieter was a method actor that stayed in character. Wanting to hear that voice he had developed for Marcus Acacius while he’s wearing that costume. “You need me to take care of you?”

He opens both eyes and smirks, seeing the way your eyes drop down to his costume. “Does this do it for you?” He asks slyly, standing up from the sofa and he brushes his costume down. His voice deepens as he asks you, “you want me to fuck you wearing this?” Instantly interested in this visceral reaction from you. 

You shiver slightly, his voice changing to the authoritative tone he had practiced with you. His eyes are hardening as he looks at you. “Yes.” You admit immediately. “We can- I can ride you.” You offer, cunt dripping at the thought.

His cock hardens in his briefs under the tunic and he stiffens his spine, wanting to enjoy this role play with you. “Stand up and strip. I want to see you.” He demands, “I want to see what the emperor has gifted me for winning my battle.”

Shit. A whimper escapes you, biting your lip even harder when he slips into role play as he watches you expectantly. You reach for your shirt and drag it over your head to drop to the floor. Wishing you had worn a dress today. “Too bad they aren’t using me as an extra.” You moan. “Pulling off a Roman dress would be sexy.”

“Fuck. I could ask wardrobe for an extra.” He says as his eyes take in your tits and he breaks character for a moment. When you’re naked in front of him, he straightens his back again. “Kneel before your general and tell him your sins.” He demands, “tell him what your weeping pussy yearns for that angers the gods.” His voice is deep and authoritative.

You have no idea if that is anything remotely like a Roman general would say, but you are quick to drop down to your knees in front of him. You bow your head, feigning embarrassment, and there might be a little of the genuine emotion mixed in. Your reaction to his costume is so physical. “You, general.” You moan quietly. “I wish for the general to take his frustrations out on my body. To use my cunt.”

Dieter knows he should be more like a general but he wants to tease you since you’re turned on by this display. By his character. “You’re nothing but a servant. You are nothing to men like me. Someone to fetch my wine and let me fuck your cunt. You want to please your general?” He asks as he reaches down to pull his hard cock from his briefs. He pumps himself and shifts closer to you, “you’re going to suck my cock.” He demands, “and pray the gods forgive you for your lust.”

It’s demeaning and sexy because most of the time Dieter is a whiny, submissive mess who does what you say, but right now he’s in charge. Except he’s not Dieter Bravo, not completely. He’s his character, Marcus Acacius. You open your mouth immediately, your cunt clenching when he pushes the head of his cock onto your tongue and past your lips. Making you moan as you close your eyes. He’s a little salty from sweat but that only adds to the little scene he’s acting out.

He groans as you take him into your mouth but it’s not enough. He reaches down to grab the back of your neck. “You’re not taking my cock like a hungry, needy, little whore. Show me how much you fucking want it.” He demands, rocking his hips to push deeper into your mouth.

You gasp and sputter around his cock, loving the almost ruthless way he is pushed down your throat. You swallow around him, making him groan and you feel your pussy start to drip onto the floor of the trailer. The scene is obscene and you love it, eyes watering as you look up at his ‘dirty and bloody’ face.

His brow is furrowed as he watches you, makeup on his face making him look fierce and he hisses when you swallow around him. “Fuck. Look at you. I bet your cunt is dripping onto the floor, isn’t it? Knowing you are sucking the cock of a general. Someone you’d never be able to be near unless you’re pouring my wine or taking my cock.” He chuckles breathlessly, slapping your cheek.

Your body shivers in goosebumps and you whimper around him. Your nipples are hard and aching and you want to reach between your thighs to rub your clit, but you want to prolong the pleasure. Saliva is dripping down your chin and you bob your head eagerly as you moan around him again. So turned on that you feel like you might cum right now.

Dieter twitches in your mouth, loving the roleplay. It's not really been something that he has explored due to his occupation. "Fuck. Your mouth is the Elysian Fields. Shit. Taking it so well." He compliments you, bending over you to squeeze your breast.

You hollow your cheeks, pressing your tongue to the underside of his cock. Moaning around his length again as your saliva slick jaw works to take him deeper. Wanting to see how long he can last in your mouth before he is pulling out to fuck you.

"Fuck. I - I don't want to-" He loses his character for a moment as he pulls out of your mouth, "I want to fuck you. Get on the bed and show me how much this little slut wants a general to fuck her." He demands, his cock slick with saliva and he wants to cum inside you.

You love the tone and honestly, it’s a little bit of a turn on to hear him call you a slut like that. Dieter doesn’t usually ever use derogatory names unless he’s talking about himself, but this is sexy. You want him to fuck you from behind, but you want to see the costume. Climbing on the bed and spreading your legs wide while you are on your back, you wait for him to react.

Dieter bites his lip, watching your chest heave and he chuckles at how eager you are for him to fuck you like this. “Look at you. Fucking dripping onto the sheets. Hungry for this General’s cock.” He mocks you as he stands at the end of the bed. He grabs your thighs, dragging you down to the edge of the bed. “You’re going to take whatever I give you.” He orders and grips his cock, positioning himself at your entrance before he pushes inside you in one thrust.

Your cry is loud and you don’t care who hears you. It’s not unusual for cast and crew to hear the sounds of sex coming from Dieter’s hotel room or trailer so no one ever expects any less from him. The snap of his hips is more aggressive and your cunt clenches down around him in pleasure as your fingers twist in the sheets. “Fuck- fuck yes!”

He can see how desperate you are for him to fuck you and he loves it. He focuses on being his character, imagining how roughly he’d fuck someone with adrenaline from the battle racing through him. “Fuck you’re so tight. Such a good little whore for me.” He praises as he grabs your legs and straightens them against his body so he can feel even bigger inside you.

Your eyes roll back because of the angle. His cock pushing deeper and kissing your womb. It pinches slightly but the pleasure overwhelms any pain. “G-gods!” You manage, finding it hard to think about anything but how fucking fierce he looks over you. His brows are pinched together and it makes him look furious, adding to the effect of the costume.

His body is still covered in fake dirt and blood, sweat beading on his forehead, and he looks down as your tits jiggle with each move and your mouth is open in pleasure. If you were a Roman god, you’d be Venus. “Taking my cock. Taking your general’s cock like a good slut. You’re hungry for it, aren’t you? Bet you sat there wet and waiting for me to come back from battle. Fuck you hard and make you cum after my frustration in battle.” He grunts, squeezing your legs as he rocks impossibly harder.

You moan and nod. “Yes, General.” You pant out, reaching up and squeezing your left tit as he fucks you. “Waiting for you to come back. Thinking of you.” Your pussy is gushing and Dieter is playing up the part beautifully. You had never thought of role play with him before but it’s perfect.

Your gushing cunt has his cock sliding in and out of you with ease and his skin slaps against your thighs. “Fuck. So good. Feel so fucking good.” He groans and squeezes your calves. He hisses and slaps your flesh, “you gonna be a good girl for your general? You gonna cum for me?”

“Yes. Fuck yes.” You gasp out, knowing that will be easy to do. “Dee- general.” You moan, correcting yourself when he squeezes your thigh and grunts in disapproval when you almost say his name. He obviously likes playing the general right now and you will oblige him. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

He wants to see it, hear it, feel it. He groans your name and slaps your thigh, wanting you to fall apart around him. You pant, getting closer and your walls flutter around his cock. “That’s it. That’s it.” He grunts, sliding his hand lower to rub your clit. “Cum for me.” He demands, wanting to hear it, “cum for your general.”

He clenches his jaw and his nostrils flare. It's so goddamn sexy and powerful that the sight of it makes you cum. Your cry is strangled, caught in your throat while your body bucks and heaves under him. Soaking his cock and you vaguely hope you don't ruin his costume as you fall apart.

You clamp down on his cock and your cry has to be heard on the entire lot as you soak his cock. "Fuck, you are - shit. Good girl. Such a good little whore for me. Gonna fill you up now. Don't care if you get knocked up. Will make sure you are looked after by the Emperor." He promises, still in character. "Fuck, I'm gonna - gonna cum." He pants, clenching his eyes as he pushes into you, thrusting a half dozen more times before he can't hold off. He pushes deep as he starts to cum, a whine escaping his lips as he breaks character.

You moan softly, watching his face relax and he literally changes from the character he was portraying to the actor that you work for and sleep with. His shoulder slump and his eyes shift back to a more soulful gaze, glazed over with pleasure as he rocks his hips forward to push every drop of cum into your pulsing walls. “Fuck, Dee.” You can’t help but giggle, your entire body tingling from the pure adrenaline of your orgasm. “That was- is your sex scene going to be like that?”

Dieter inhales deeply, his spine tingling from the orgasm, and he snorts, shaking his head as he looks down at you. "No. No. Fuck." He shakes his head, trying to get control of himself after some great fucking sex. "It's gonna be boring. She rides me, her naked, me in armor." He tells you and you nod, "not like this." He caresses your legs, "not like this."

You hum, smirking slightly and you reach down to caress the armored chest of his costume. “Well then, why don’t I ride you in your costume before you film, so you can imagine I’m the one on top of you?” You suggest, not even remotely upset by the idea of fucking him again like this. Your pussy clenches down around his softening cock. “Anything I can do to help you.”

Dieter smirks, "Jesus, you'll have me hardening in the damn sock thinking about you but fuck...I can bring the costume back to the trailer another day." He decides and reaches for your hand to kiss your palm. "Have I ever told you that I love you?" He asks softly, knowing you deserve to know how he feels.

Dieter says he loves you all the time, most often after you do something for him he had expected you to refuse. It’s glib and flippant, not real so you don’t ever tell him how it hurts you when he does because you know he doesn’t love love you. “I could stand to hear it more.” You admit, heart twisting and you cup his cheek when he puts your hand against it. “Because I love you too.”

Your adoring gaze makes his heart flutter and he’s reminded once again how he cannot live without you. You’re his rock and you keep him on track, not letting him spiral when things go wrong. He sighs, “not like I want you to” and lets go of your hand to pull out of you. He can’t say how he really feels and he dejectedly tucks his cock away.

The ever shifting moods of Dieter reminds you that he isn’t yours and you decide to just giggle to cover the flare of hurt. “Of course not.” You hum. “That wouldn’t fit your reputation.” You sit up and reach for a towel. “Do you want a snack?” You ask, moving back into caretaker mode.

Dieter watches you shuffle off the bed, reaching for your panties and he sighs, “you don’t get it. I don’t mean- whatever. It’s whatever.” He huffs and decides to head back onto set and find himself something to drink.

You frown when he leaves the trailer before you can put yourself back together. Wondering why he seems so shiftless right now, if he’s feeling guilty about something. You know that he’s not great at expressing himself and sometimes acts out like a child would. He doesn’t like being emotionally vulnerable. You decide to go to the set and see if you can help him.

Dieter is nursing a black coffee when you arrive on set and he is sitting, waiting for the other actors to come back from their break. You walk over to him and he stares at the cup in his hand. “Sorry for - for that.” He manages to get out like it’s painful to say.

“Don’t worry about it.” The last thing you need is for Dieter to think you are mad at him. He needs to concentrate on the scenes being filmed today and hopefully by the time he’s done, whatever is upsetting him will have passed. “Do you need anything? Are you hungry? You didn’t eat much this morning.” His blood sugar might be low. “I brought you a Kit Kat.” You pull the candy bar out of your bag and offer it to him.

He looks up at you in surprise and takes the chocolate, undoing the wrapper after you take his coffee and he groans as he chews it, not realizing how hungry he was. You stand there in silence and Dieter hands you the wrapper after the AD calls for everyone to return to set. He inhales deeply, mentally shifting into his character.

You sit in the chair he vacated, that is still warm from him sitting there. Watching as he takes his mark and his co-stars also get into position. It’s always interesting to watch Dieter work, the truth in the saying that all artists are slightly mad being very true. You think he is amazing.

Dieter grunts as soon as the director calls action, working on remembering his blocking and the choreography. People think that acting is easy, that it doesn't take a lot, but Dieter's life has been acting and it's exhausting physically and mentally. He gets lost in his character as he works his way through the scene.

You have memorized the lines and the action sequences. Seeing the hard work he has been putting in come to life as he goes through the scenes. Sometime they cut and reset, but you are so impressed and fucking turned on by his competence in this role, it makes you press your thighs together.

Dieter is sweating when he finishes his scene and he strides off set when the director calls cut, taking the bottle of water you have ready for him. He desperately wants a shower so he's relieved when the director calls it for the day and he hands you the water bottle. "Need a damn shower and some weed." He declares, walking off set and you follow him.

You know that he’s tired so you don’t try to talk to him. Just follow him back to the trailer and you pick up his costume as he strips it off, taking it back to wardrobe as he gets into the shower. His comfy sweats and crocs are set out and you have ordered dinner to be delivered to the house by the time you get there.

Dieter stands under the water, eyes closed as he tries to imagine his life when he’s older. He will be too old to be a movie star, too old to be considered another more than a washed up legend. His legacy will be his Oscar and nothing else. He hates the idea of not having anything else written in his eulogy. He hates the thought of being alone. He imagines if he gets the balls to say how he feels about you. Sure, he’s not conventional but he loves you. You don’t care about the fame or the money. You see him, you know him. He imagines being old, watching his kids grow up with you beside him. He wants that. He just needs to tell you for real and hope you don’t crush his crumbling heart in your hands.

Once you’ve returned the costume, you pick up the changes to the script and the blocking for tomorrow, going back to the trailer to pack up the bag you always carry for Dieter. He’s still in the shower, which is a little unusual but you just think that he’s sore. You’ll offer to give him a massage once he’s smoked a little and relaxed. It’s been a long day.

Dieter finally turns off the shower, stepping out and wrapping the towel around his waist. He washes the makeup from his face with the organic cleanser you get him and he comes out to find you waiting for him. “Shit.” He hisses, rubbing his eyes, “I just know I’m gonna lose you.” He admits, trying to ignore how fucking pretty you look waiting for him.

You frown, not sure what the hell he is talking about. “Are you okay?” You ask, stepping closer to him and wondering if he might have taken something without you knowing. He's been doing so good with not taking random pills, but this is Dieter. “You aren’t going to lose me unless you wander off.” You joke playfully, reaching out and touching his arm.

He flinches and shakes his head, “no. No. You’re gonna go and all because I can’t control- I can’t stop thinking - fuck!” He yells and you jump, making his frown deepen. “There’s - it’s just all in my head bouncing around all the damn time.” He admits, waving his hands around his wet curls, “you’re gonna leave because you don’t - it’s gonna ruin everything but I can’t stop myself.” He admits and you frown, shaking your head, “Dieter. What’s wro-?” You don’t get to finish before he blurts out, “I’m in love with you!”

Your mouth drops open slightly, shocked by his outburst. His eyes are filled with sorrow, grief. As if you’ve already rejected him. “Dee…” he shakes his head “I knew it.” He mumbles and you step closer. “Know what?” You ask, tilting your head. “That I’m in love with you too? That I’m scared that you’ll find someone else? That you’ll be bored?” You ask, voice shallow and fearful. “Because that’s all true.”

Dieter stares at you in shock, thinking for a second that he’s high or this is some dream. He swallows harshly and reaches for his towel, dragging it from his body. “Dieter.” You whisper in confusion and he reaches for your hand, bringing it to his chest. “I’m yours. All of me is yours and I stand in front of you now naked and totally exposed, physically and emotionally. I’ve been in love with you for - well, since you started working for me but I think I told myself that I couldn’t indulge in you, couldn’t ruin you, until that first night we slept together and I - no one else came close to you. I love you and I want you. You’re the only person I can ever see myself growing old with.” He admits, his heart pounding under your palm.

You bite your lip and your eyes fill with happy tears. “I always worried that you would move on. That I wasn’t enough.” You admit softly. “But I want you. Perfectly flawed you. I think you are amazing and I don’t want to be with anyone else but you, Dieter.”

Dieter offers you a soppy smile when he realizes you feel the same way. “You are - Jesus. Seriously?” He asks and you nod, offering him a soft smile as you reach up with your other hand to cup his cheek. “I love you.” He declares before he surges forward to press his lips to yours.

You can’t help but giggle against his lips, throwing your arms around him and dragging him closer. He loves you. He’s whiny, sometimes annoying and always needy, but he loves you. You pour yourself into the kiss, your heart pounding in your chest.

His fingers dig into your waist as he pulls you against him, his tongue sliding into your mouth as he lets it sink in that you love him. “Wanna- wanna grow old with you. Well, older.” He says when you pull back and he points at himself, his wrinkles that he’s insecure about.

Leaning in, you press your lips to the wrinkles and smile at him when you pull back. “Only if you’re willing to steal your costume after you finish shooting.” You joke, kissing him again.

Dieter chuckles, “now that I can agree to.” He promises, caressing your back. “Definitely going to steal that one to take home.” He promises, “for now though…let’s go home and have dinner before I spend all night making love to my girlfriend.” He nudges his nose against yours.

“I ordered dinner to be delivered,” you tell him as you pull back and smile at him. “We’ll smoke a little and then I’ll ride you before rubbing your back.” You tell him the plan as you turn around to reach for his clothes. “How does that sound, baby?”

“Fuck, you really are my soulmate.” He murmurs, looking at you in awe. “Let’s go home, sweetheart.” He orders, slapping your ass. “Uh, you might want to get dressed.” You say and he chuckles, nodding as he grabs the sweats you laid out for him. “Don’t want anyone else seeing the goods. Yours and only yours.” He winks at you as he pulls his pants up and grabs his shirt, pulling it over his head while he slides into his crocs. “Sports mode.” He jokes as he pulls the straps up over his ankle.

You roll your eyes, laughing at the complete dork that you love. He’s quirky in about a million ways and sometimes drives you crazy with his antics, but you don’t want him any other way. Especially if he’s going to roleplay a Roman general with you for the rest of your life. “Let’s go home, babe.” You tell him, grabbing the bag. “We’ll practice your sex scene until we get it right.”

“Fuck yes.” He cheers as you walk out of his trailer and he takes your hand, not caring about anything other than showing you how he feels about you. “Food, weed, then some crazy lovemaking.” He decides and squeezes your hand, “you know…I have a costume left over from Cliff Beasts we could try out.” He teases and you snort, “that’s just your robe. You used your own for the character.” Dieter smirks, “could be sexy if we roleplay it the right way.” He suggests, “these cliff beasts are so large-a.” He does his accent and you sigh, “I hate that that works on me.” Dieter grins, “gonna be a damn good life together, baby.” He declares and you giggle, “yeah it is, Bravo.”

[umadosedepascal]

MEET ME AT THE SET | Pedro Pascal X f!reader | one shot

Written by Santa Trindade

Banner by @missyorkswhore

Made in Brazil

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x f!reader

Summary: Pedro is THE GENERAL, babe!

wc: 1.3k

rating/warnings: [oral sex m receiving] [cum in mouth] [light fingering] [Overstimulation]

a/n: @missyorkswhore wrote her first solo fic by herself! Kudos to her!!! That’s what a horny gal does staring at new stills of Pedro in Gladiator II

The shootings has been intense, Pedro tells you by messages how busy and exhausting it is, they start recording as soon as the first rays of Sun appear and only at night he returns to the hotel.

This has been your relationship, messages, backstage pics and some calls during the night.

You miss him.

"I miss you, I hope you're having fun, General."

You send him a message, hours later his phone vibrates, it's already dawn, you pick up your phone, your eyes burning with the brightness of the screen.

"Hey, I miss you too. God, I'm exhausted and happy, I have good news! It's the last week of shooting, come here, we can enjoy a few days together. Are you coming?"

You smile and type a huge YES. You talk for a few minutes and Pedro sends your flight info and hotel to your email.

Three days later you are on your way to the set, Pedro couldn't pick you up at the airport, but arrange a car to take you immediately to the set.

You enter through the back of the set, producers and employees everywhere, and in the background you can see the huge arena they created, you feel as if you were in two eras, on your left ancient Rome, on your right the current world full of cameras, phones ringing and people walking back and forth.

You walk between the trailers, looking at the doors that indicate where each actor is, a few more steps and your eyes meet the sign "Pedro Pascal -Marcus Acacius" you knock on the door but your jaw drops as soon as the door is opened. Pedro has one hand on the door and the other on his hip. He is incredibly beautiful, a white outfit with golden details, the golden drawings highlighting the middle of the white armor. Your eyes go up to Pedro's face, he wears a golden laurel crown.

-Wow... sorry, I thought it was Pedro's dressing room...

Pedro laughs and pulls you by the hand

-No love, Pedro is unavailable at the moment, only General Acacius now.

He kisses you and you feel his taste, the taste you were searching for. His right hand goes to your waist pulling you against his body, his left hand on the back of your neck, lightly pulling your hair making your head tilt back.

-God, I missed that so much.

He murmurs as he runs his lips down your neck leaving soft bites that make you shiver and moan softly.

You push him until Pedro falls sitting in the armchair behind him, he smiles as he watches you kneel slowly at him.

-I heard that in ancient Rome after battles men went for a bath place, is this the name?

And they were very well taken care of... and you're so exhausted, aren't you general?

Pedro laughs softly and caresses his cheek with his fingers going down the sensitive skin of your neck, he nods and whispers

-Yes, so exhausted.

You run your hands down his legs, the skin hot, the muscles getting tense under the palms of your hand. You don't stop looking at him, seeing how his lips become half open, his eyes getting darker and darker.

You raise your hands until the tips of your fingers meet his underwear, feeling the heat of his cock.

You pull his underwear down, taking them off by the legs and throw them on the floor.

Pedro looks hypnotized, he smiles and you go up the fabric of his clothes until his cock is fully exposed, the wet pink tip, the lateral vein pulsating while he whispers.

-Is that what you want?

He smiles debauchedly.

You nod your head, your right hand holding by the base feeling it pulsating, Pedro's eyes close quickly. His breathing changes when you lick the drop that accumulates at the tip, his thumb goes up to your lips spreading the liquid, you suck his finger, biting and making Pedro gasp his hand going straight to your hair.

-Don't play with me like that or-

Before he can complete the sentence you put his cock in your mouth, as much as you can, his bittersweet taste on your tongue, the lateral vein pulsating, the unique smell of his skin invading your nostrils.

Pedro moans and you look at him and can't hold back the moan with what you see. Pedro with his eyes almost closed, his mouth open, his breath starting to get panting and the damn laurel wreath. He looks like a fucking Greek God.

You swallow it all feeling it hit your throat. Pedro lets his head fall back and a hoarse moan comes out of his throat, his hand grabs your hair firmly, conducting as he wants, how hard he wants to fuck his mouth.

You continue the up and down movements, swirling your tongue at the tip, you can't look away, his vision with the white armor.

Pedro takes his left hand to your head, both hands guiding you, making you take him so deeply.

He bites his lip, you know he wants to moan and curse, but now it takes a little silence, only small hoarse moans escape his lips, his eyes wandering between his mouth and his eyes.

-If it continues like this I'll cum in your mouth...fuck! - he moans loudly when he feels you masturbate him while your tongue passes through the tip provoking him, you whisper

-Is that what you want, general? - you gently run your tongue over the tip of his cock, provoking the sensitive skin that makes his legs tense.

Pedro growls and pushes his head making your mouth swallow his whole cock.

-Damn, yes...don't stop, please.

Pedro's right hand finds yours on the inner of his thigh, his fingers intertwining yours, while the left hand holds your hair, preventing the strands from hindering his vision of you sucking it.

You suck for a few more seconds until you feel Pedro squeezing your hand hard, his legs shaking, moans escaping from his lips, so low that they seem growling. You swallow every drop, licking until Pedro has spasms and pulls you to his lap.

He sticks his forehead to yours, panting, he kisses your lips pulling between his teeth and smiles.

-I missed you so much.

Pedro unbuttons your pants, his fingers dipping inside your panties and feeling how wet you are.

-Shit, I need to feel you on my tongue now.

He says while biting and licking your neck.

A knock on the door catches your attention, someone says that Pedro's scene is the next one to be shoot. He throws his head back, frustrated and you laugh.

-All right, go soon General... I'll be at the hotel waiting for you.

Pedro kisses you, his middle finger dives into your pussy and he takes it to his lips, sucking while moaning as if he were tasting the best dessert in the world.

-Now I can go...wait for me at the hotel, I'll be there in a few hours.

He kisses you, fixes the clothes wearing the underwear again. He looks at you and smiles, he hugs you and kisses your forehead and then your lips.

-I really missed you.

He turns around, puts on his sunglasses and opens the trailer door, and leaves.

You can't wait for the day to end.

——————————-

Thanks for being here and read our delusional fics, likes are appreciate, comments even more. If you want to ask anything, blast it!

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Made Your Mark On Me

...a golden tattoo Dieter Bravo x Female Reader

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: Your feelings for Dieter grow even stronger as you spend Christmas in London with him. Warnings: pov switching, christmas vibes, warren's a pos, pining, fluff, comfort, unprotected p in v sex, oral (f&m receiving), semi-public sex (in a dressing room), panty ripping, dieter's RICH, marijuana, alcohol, coke flashbacks, my google maps history knows a lot about the hyde park area of london Words: 7,800

A/N: Well folks, in true Gemini fashion, I've changed my mind. I know most of you voted for one mega chapter, but I think this arc is going to flow so much better as two. The next chapter is done, so expect that next week. My thanks to @devineconjuring for her eyes and dot eating and @schnarfer for her eyes and support. 💞

Previous Chapter Golden Girl Masterlist Masterlist ✨✨✨

December 23

Early morning light seeps through the curtains. Dieter’s arm lays heavily draped over your waist, his breath steady against your neck. Just as you nestle closer into the warmth of his body, the silence is shattered by the beeping of his alarm. He stirs behind you, his arm tightening briefly before he reaches over to silence the intrusive sound. The mattress shifts as he sits up, and you instantly feel cold.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice deep with sleep. "I have to get ready for set."

When you roll over to face him, he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then your lips.

"You should go back to sleep," he whispers against your skin. "It's still early.”

You nod, already feeling the pull of slumber.

He kisses you once more before sliding out of bed. You watch through half-closed eyes as he stretches, his long, lean back rippling.

"I wish I could stay,” he whispers, bending over and cupping your face in his hands. "One more for the road,” he murmurs before giving you one last kiss.

He disappears into the bathroom. The shower turns on, and the steady sound of water flowing against the tiles helps you drift back to sleep.

—-

He wipes the condensation from the mirror, and the same brown eyes he’s known all these years stare back at him. They look different–not clouded under a druggy haze, not behind a red gloss after drinking too many glasses of expensive alcohol, not empty and hollow waiting for someone to focus on. They look bright, happy, and full of love. 

He dresses in the bedroom, careful not to wake you as he watches you nestled among the blankets, peacefully sleeping. He so badly wants to crawl back into bed and hold you close. But duty calls, and he knows the sooner he leaves, the sooner he can return.

One final day before the holiday break. He’s so glad you’re here–he couldn’t fathom not being with you for Christmas. Soon, he’ll have the whole week to spend entirely with you. He used to see these breaks as a reason to fly somewhere beautiful and far away with a suitcase full of drugs and drinks, maybe taking a pretty girl or boy–or both–with him. A reason to leave the stress of Hollywood behind, ignoring Christmas, where everyone is happy and full of love, and New Year’s, where everyone asks him how he’ll improve, as if they were calling him a fuck up. 

My, how times change. Now, domestic bliss swells in his heart when he pulls out two mugs, pouring himself a cup of coffee, leaving the sugar out for you. It’s a small gesture to make your morning better, and he’ll never tire of making you happy. 

In the living room, your robe lays in a heap on the rug, right where it fell from your shoulders last night. He picks it up, depositing it onto the chair by the bed before moving silently to your side. He’s careful not to disturb you as he leans over and leaves a kiss against your soft lips, slightly parted in slumber.

“I’ll be back soon, baby. I love you.”

—-

The sun shining in through the large windows warms you awake. Your mind clears, three softly whispered words echo through your head. The room feels empty without him, but you know there are only a few hours until you have a whole week with him. 

The smell of coffee and the leftover remnants of Dieter’s cologne tempt you out of bed. You choose his robe over your own, inhaling the scent of him before heading to the kitchen.

Signs of the night before are strewn amongst you as you enjoy your coffee on the couch–the same couch where your story with Dieter fundamentally changed. Two glasses of gin and tonic that have long gone flat sit on the table, a half-smoked joint lays in the crystal ashtray, and your phone sits on the chair, ignored since Dieter put the movie on. 

The corner near the window catches your eye and an idea lights in your mind and heart. Today, you’re going to get a Christmas tree for Dieter. After a quick shower and change of clothes, you bundle up under the warmth of his favorite brown coat and take the elevator down.

“Good morning, my lady,” Lamar greets you as you step out of the elevator. “Anything I can help you with on this lovely, cold December day?”

“Actually, yes,” you smile. “Dieter’s room is lacking a Christmas tree. Where can I get one? Preferably with lots of branches for ornaments?” “Ah,” Lamar’s eyes light up. “Leave that to me. I’ll get you two the finest tree in all of Britain. You just take care of the ornaments. I’ll get you a car.”

—-

“You’re needed on set in ten,” Court says with a sharp knock on his door.

“Alright,” he responds, sighing at his phone and staring at your last text.

I have a surprise for you when you get home.❣️

He can’t think about it too much. There’s a vital scene that he needs to get done before the break. Today has been filled with nothing but impatience and annoyance. He just wants to get back home to you.

Dieter takes a deep breath, pushing thoughts of you to the back of his mind. He needs to focus. What he has to do is crucial to the production, and he can't afford any distractions. Sometimes, he hates being an actor. 

The director calls action, and Dieter easily slips into character. But even as he delivers his lines, a part of him remains anchored to you back in that hotel room. To the feel of your lips, to the warmth of your body next to his, to the years of wanting you—and finally having you.

Hours pass in a blur of takes and retakes. Finally, the director calls it a wrap. Dieter hurries back to his trailer, shedding his costume and makeup as quickly as possible. And now, he has nine days with you.

—-

The door opens with a click and beep, and you quickly finish adjusting a branch before running to the entryway. 

Dieter lights up when he sees you, a wide, crinkling-eye-smile across his face.

“Hi, Sweets,” he says, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around you. "I’m so happy to see you.” He inhales your scent, his lips meeting the juncture between your shoulder and neck.

“Hi. I have a surprise for you,” you sweetly tease. “Close your eyes.”

He pulls back, his eyes squeezed shut, the dimple on his cheek sitting deep with his smile. 

You grab his hand and lead him into the living room, the thrum of anticipation and excitement growing louder inside you with each step. 

“Okay,” you whisper, positioning him just right. “Open your eyes.” His eyes flutter open, and his jaw drops when he takes everything in.

A large Christmas tree adorned with tiny white lights is set up in the corner of the living room. Under it, bags from Liberty London and Selfridges sit filled with ornaments. 

“I figured we needed a proper Christmas tree.“

“I-I… Sweets, this is… amazing.”

“Yeah?”

He turns to you, tiny tears prickling at the sides of his eyes. “Yeah. This is surreal.”

Your heart pounds at that word. Surreal. The implication of his words last night before you drifted to sleep. Love. Love surreal. 

“I know,” you respond. “But it makes sense, right?”

“Fully.”

He wraps his arm around you, and your head rests against his chest, feeling his heartbeat. He sighs contentedly, the sound of it vibrating against your cheek.

“Shall we get changed into our finest robes and decorate it?” you suggest.

“I’d love nothing more.”

—-

Christmas carols softly play in the background as you unearth ornament after ornament from your shopping bags. He hasn’t decorated a tree in years, usually leaving it to his assistant to sort it out just because he feels obligated to have one. He often wondered what spending the holidays with you would be like. You always made things look so picturesque, always went above and beyond. He wanted that, and when he couldn’t have it, well, the holidays really never mattered.

The soft glow of the Christmas lights dance across your face as you carefully unwrap each ornament with wonder in your eyes. You’re so beautiful.

“Oh! I got these too,” you excitedly say, pulling a box of colored Christmas lights out of the bag. “I figured you love a colorful tree.”

You’re perfect.

—-

The tree is just what you hoped it would be, shimmering in the corner with a mix of twinkling white and rainbow lights. You’re proud of the ornaments you found that now cover it. A film camera for Dieter, a record player for you, a fuzzy raccoon for Dieter, a furry corgi for you, a basket of chips for Dieter, a cup of tea for you, and every single star-shaped ornament you could find.

“We did a good job, didn’t we?” you ask, sitting on the couch with the lights off, only sitting in the warmth of Dieter and the tree’s glow. He sparks the joint, the lighter and the tree reflected in his big, brown eyes. 

“Mm, we did,” he responds, blowing out a plume of smoke before laying down and placing his head in your lap. 

“This is nice,” you say as you reach down and grab the joint from his lips to take a hit. 

You play with Dieter's hair, occasionally trailing your fingertips along his jawline or tracing the shell of his ear. He leans over and stubs out the joint, grabbing your hand and planting a kiss against it. “I’m really happy you’re here. Surreal, right?”

“So surreal,” you whisper.

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-

December 24

Silver bells…

Your cheeks hurt from smiling so much as you and Dieter sway to the crooning voices of Christmas carols. Dieter's arms are secure around your waist. You’re both clad in matching flannel pajamas. All you can feel in this moment is the warmth of his body and the joy inside you.

He pulls away with a wide smile lighting up his face. “I have something for you. I don’t want to wait until tomorrow.” He takes your hand and leads you to sit down in front of the Christmas tree, where he pulls out a small, clumsily wrapped box from behind it. "I wrapped it myself.”

You tear off the Rudolph-themed paper and open the velvet box, revealing a golden chain bracelet adorned with delicate charms–a camera, a shooting star, a biscuit for your tea, a bee for your garden, a mixtape, and a pig with wings (“because when pigs fly, right?).

“I tried to find a charm for everything that made me think of you,” Dieter softly says. 

Running your finger over each one, you feel like finally, after all these years, someone truly sees you.

"It's perfect," you say, awe in your voice. “Thank you.”

You reach out your wrist to him, and he gently fastens the bracelet's clasp. You’re enamored by how the golden charms glisten in the light when you shake your wrist back and forth.

“Surreal,” Dieter says as he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your inner wrist, just below the bracelet.

Slowly, he trails kisses up your arm. You shiver, your free hand coming up to tangle in his hair when he nuzzles into the curve where your neck meets your shoulder before he licks his way up to your lips.

His hand cups your face, his thick thumb softly caressing your cheek as his lips meet yours. He deepens the kiss before guiding you to lie back on the floor. You feel his warmth as he covers you. An unfamiliar emotion you haven’t felt in years swells in your heart. He pulls away, his eyes roaming over your face with a small smile, the Christmas tree lights twinkling in his eyes.

You unbutton your top before shrugging it off. He takes in the sight of you before he lowers his head and presses soft kisses along your collarbone. He makes a path down to the swell of your breasts, looking up at you with a mixture of awe and desire.

A gasp escapes your lips when his mouth closes over your nipple, his hand cupping your other breast, thumb brushing over the sensitive peak.

Your back arches into his touch, Dieter’s lips curling into a smile against your skin as he trails kisses down your stomach until he reaches the apex of your legs. He wraps his fingers around the waistband of your plaid pajama pants before tugging gently. “It’s a shame. I loved matching with you, but these have to go, baby.” The flannel slides down your legs smoothly, his lips following the path, leaving a trail of warm kisses along your thighs.

He pauses at your knee, nuzzling the soft skin before continuing downward. When he reaches your ankle, a final kiss is pressed to the delicate bone before removing your pants.

He makes his way back up, his hands caressing your calves, knees, and thighs before he parts your legs and settles between them. His breath is warm against your inner thigh as he places sweet kisses there.

Brown eyes meet yours, the Christmas lights casting a kaleidoscope of colors inside his eyes as his tongue darts out and tastes you. His eyes flutter shut, a long, low groan vibrating against you as his tongue traces every fold and curve of you with reverent devotion. His fingers join in, parting you as he laps at your clit. 

Carding your fingers through his hair to urge him closer, your moans overpower the Christmas carols playing through the speakers.

Two thick fingers are slid inside you, slowly fucking you as your hips buck against his face. He hums against you, the sweet vibrations lighting you from within.

You’re panting for him, rolling your hips and clutching at your chest as his mouth and fingers work you. Just as you’re about to cum, he pulls back, making you whine at the loss. But before you can protest, Dieter’s already moving up your body.

The taste of you is left upon your lips when he kisses you, his tongue covered in your slick, licking against yours. You can feel the heaviness of him between your thighs, gently pressing against you. 

He breaks the kiss, pulling away to look into your eyes as he slowly pushes inside, both of you gasping and smiling. 

"You feel incredible," he sighs, peppering kisses along your jaw. "So perfect."

He languidly moves inside you, savoring the feel. His forehead rests against yours, your breaths mingling as he rocks into you.

He’s so beautiful, lit by the Christmas lights–the glow makes him look almost ethereal. His broad shoulders cast shifting shadows as he moves above you. Your hands move down to the plush of his stomach, your nails raking across his skin. You wrap your legs around his waist, drawing him into you deeper. He buries his face into your neck, groaning as he fucks into you faster.

“Dee,” you breathe before he lifts his head to kiss you again, swallowing your moans and gasping into your mouth. 

His movements falter as he gets closer. Your back arches as your whole body tightens and then trembles. You cry out his name as your orgasm flows through your body, setting you alight as your walls clench Dieter’s cock. The sensation pushes him over the edge as he groans your name, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you. It’s so warm, the heat of it filling you.

You cling to him as he collapses on top of you, both your bodies quivering with aftershocks. Dieter softly kisses along your neck and jaw as you both catch your breath.

He lifts his head, glancing over at the clock above the doorway that now reads 12:01 AM.

“Merry Christmas, Sweets.”

“Merry Christmas, Dee.”

—-—-—-—-—-—-

December 25

Steady breaths against your neck slowly wake you. Dieter's arms are wrapped around you, your bare skin pressed against his. You turn, careful not to wake him, drinking in the sight of him. His face is relaxed in sleep, long eyelashes fanned across his cheeks. His chaotic hair is even more mussed, a stray lock falling across his forehead. You reach out to gingerly brush it away before touching the glinting gold earring in his ear. A surge of affection lights your body. This moment–waking up with Dieter on Christmas morning in London–feels almost magical and unbelievable. You lean in, pressing your lips softly to his.

“Merry Christmas,” you whisper against his mouth.

He stirs, his brown eyes fluttering open. A slow, lazy smile spreads across his face as he focuses on you. "Merry Christmas, baby," he says, voice deep with sleep. His arms tighten around you, pulling you flush against him.

You kiss him again, deeper this time. He responds eagerly, one hand sliding up to tangle in your hair as you begin to move your body against his.

He rolls you onto your back before entering you slowly, groaning at how wet and ready you already are for him.

“God damn,” he sighs as he slowly fucks you. “Merry Christmas to me. You’re the best gift ever.”

You have the most relaxed Christmas morning you’ve ever had. Dieter has spoiled you–piles of wrapping and tissue paper are strewn across the suite, and a pile of gifts lies next to you. Designer and vintage clothes, cute trinkets, sparkling jewelry, a hand-bound journal with your initial embossed on the cover, a crystal rolling tray, a new frame for “a photo of us.” Everything is perfect and so well thought out by Dieter.

The small stack of gifts from you is grouped next to him. He holds up the ALF plush you knitted for him, knowing it’s one of his favorite shows ever.

“I can’t believe you made me this. It's… amazing, baby. Definitely my favorite gift ever.”

“You said that to me last night when you stuck your dick in me. So it’s ALF and then me?”

His jaw drops before lifting to smile. “God, you’re funny.”

He looks around the room, taking in everything before he reaches for his iPad.

“So, I have something else for you, but it’s, uh,” he lifts his hand, nervously rubbing his neck. “It’s not here, and it’s not done yet."

You arch an eyebrow, looking at him with a hint of puzzlement.

He beckons you over with his finger. “Come here.”

You crawl through the sea of crinkly paper into his lap, the back of your head resting against his chest.

A video plays of an artist painting delicate stars around a woman who looks similar to you, emerging from shadows into a luminous golden space.

“This is Layla Profar. She’s an up-and-coming artist who uses pure gold in her paintings. I told her your story, and this is what she’s painting. For you. She’s been working around the clock to finish it.”

Tears well in your eyes at the thoughtfulness. Nobody’s ever done or given anything like this to you.

"This is how I see you,” he says, his voice low against your ear. “Stepping out from what held you back, coming into your own. Away from Warren. You're free now, Golden Girl.” You stare at the painting, seeing a mirror of your own journey, tears falling down your cheeks.

A sniffle and a small sob alert him to your tears. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close.

“That's the blank, unholy surprise of it. You're the golden girl. Full of life and warmth and delight.” He nuzzles into your neck, leaving a soft kiss against your skin before he breathes you in.

You want to say the three words that spill out of your heart and up to your mouth, but you stay silent, quietly crying as he cradles you, gently rocking you back and forth.

“You like it, right?” he asks after a bit.

You choke out a laugh, turning to face him, tears still streaming down your face. His eyes search yours, a flicker of uncertainty in them.

“I love it,” you whisper. “Dee, this is the most thoughtful, beautiful gift anyone has ever given me.” Relief washes over his handsome face, a smile blooming across it. “Yeah?”

You reach up, cradling his head between your hands, the stubble of his jaw prickling against your palms. You seal your mouth over his in a tender kiss, trying to pour every ounce of emotion swelling in your chest into him. He crushes you against his broad chest, tightening his arms around you.

He pulls back, the small tears in his eyes mirror your own.

“Our first Christmas together, Golden Girl.”

—-

A small, sated smile still lights your face as you peacefully slumber next to him. He pulls you closer, marveling at how perfectly you fit against him.

He thinks back on the past few days–decorating the Christmas tree together, exchanging gifts, making love under the twinkling lights, sharing meals and joints with easy laughter. It's the happiest he's ever been.

For the first time, the holidays truly feel special and magical, filled with joy and… love. Because he loves you, wholly and completely. He’s known it for so long. For years. But sharing this Christmas with you has only solidified what his heart already knew–you are his Golden Girl, his person, the one he wants to spend every Christmas, birthday, and lazy Sunday morning with for the rest of his days.

For so long, he thought he could never have this, never dared to imagine he deserved you. His life has been a whirlwind of chaos—film sets, red carpets, shallow flings, a failed marriage, pills of different sizes and strengths, empty bottles of alcohol. But then there was you–his beautiful, talented, funny friend who always saw past the celebrity. Who saw him.

He leaves a kiss against your forehead before he also falls asleep with a smile.

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-

December 26

Dieter shuffles behind you as you rub face cream on your cheeks, a towel wrapped around your body fresh from the shower you two shared.

“Are you sure we’ll be okay?” you ask

“I’m sure. They don’t care about all this,” he says, gesturing wildly, “and all the celebrity bullshit like they do at home.”

He thinks you like staying in, away from the prying eyes of the public. Still unable to realize how free you are from Warren’s influence and watchful eyes.

He remembers the first time he met you. He, Warren, and some friends were out celebrating his multi-episode arc on some procedural police drama. He spotted you across the hazy bar, surrounded by your girlfriends, your smile wide and your dress gold, sparkling under the dim lights.

He made his way over to you, the gravity of your pull too much for him to ignore. He asked you to dance, and you giggled, taking his hand. He pulled you close, and from that moment on, you’ve been the only girl he’s ever wanted. He told you he was an actor. You confided in him then that was always your dream. He felt brave, his self-esteem boosted by the new role. He couldn’t resist you, his lips seeking yours, cutting off your cheerful giggle, tasting the sweet alcohol left in your mouth.

And then… he went to snort some lines in the bathroom, only to return to find Warren spinning you across the dance floor, the same smile you gave him, the same kiss you shared now given to his friend.

He was too high to care that night. Funny how the lines of coke in that disgusting bathroom would come to haunt him for years.

Now, as he helps you shuffle into your jacket, turning you around to button it up before sweetly kissing you, those ghosts are replaced by a hopeful future with you.

“Come on, baby,” he says, grabbing your hand. “I want to take you shopping.”

—-

The wind is crisp against your cheeks as you and Dieter walk hand in hand, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against your skin as you make your way towards Harrod’s.

“I’m so excited,” you beam as the grand building comes into view. You lead him to a window, pausing in front of it and taking in the festive display. You lean into him, resting your head against his shoulder. “I’m glad I get to see this with you.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Me too.”

To call Harrod's busy on Boxing Day is an understatement. You’ve never seen such a whirlwind of activity before. Your and Dieter’s eyes light up as you both take everything in.

His hand never leaves yours as you weave through the crowds, getting lost in the maze of sections, taking in the displays and glittering lights.

"Look at these," you say, holding up a pair of plush, fuzzy slippers adorned with a smiling corgi face. "Aren't they adorable?"

“Get ‘em,” he smiles, his eyebrows rising above his sunglasses. “And get me a pair, too.”

—-

A kind shopping attendant named Phineas effortlessly holds on to the many bags and boxes piling up high.

“Oh, that’s so pretty,” you exclaim, pointing to an emerald green silk scarf adorned with delicate golden stars. Dieter plucks it from the display.

“I don’t really need it. I just thought it was pretty.”

“Yeah, but I want to see you in only this later tonight,” he whispers into the shell of your ear. “It’ll look good against your skin.”

You chuckle and shake your head as you lead him into another section.

He loves spoiling you. He loves the way you get shy and flustered as he keeps adding more and more items to Phineas’s arms.

“I won't have enough room,” you sigh as he tucks a Judith Lieber Ticket to Space clutch under his arm. “Poor Phineas is suffering.”

“Bullshit,” he says with a doting smile. “I’ll mail it to you.” 

He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his “wallet”—a paper clip-secured stack of pounds and credit cards. He hands Phineas a platinum card and a stack of £50 notes. “Do me a favor, Phin. Get this all packaged up and delivered to the Mandarin for me. Keep the cash. Merry Boxing Day.”

“Yes, sir, thank you!” Phineas exclaims before he departs.

Dieter watches him leave, a roguish grin on his face. “Let’s go see what lingerie this place has to offer, huh?”

—-

Harrod's has a LOT of lingerie choices to offer… and a private dressing room. Dieter sits on a luxe blush pink velvet couch, waiting for you to appear from behind the curtain.

You take a deep breath, smoothing your hands over the matching bra and panty set you found. The dark blue fabric is almost sheer, and golden stars embroidered across the delicate lace shimmer as you check yourself out in the mirror. The bra cups lift and shape your breasts, the matching thong sits low on your hips. You’re going to drive Dieter crazy.

With a surge of confidence from how you look, you open the curtain and step out. Dieter throws his sunglasses off, his eyes widening and lips parting as he takes in the sight of you.

“Holy fuck,” he breathes.

You saunter over, standing in front of him. He throws his head back as he struggles to maintain his composure, his hands gripping the edge of the couch. When he looks at you again, his eyes turn dark.

“Turn around.”

You comply, slowly spinning to give him a view of your ass. He leans forward, placing a kiss against the supple shape of it. You chuckle, shaking your head at how needy he is for you.

“Fuck, you look so fucking good. Wish I could scoop you up in my arms and carry you out of here.”

He makes you feel confident, sexy, and… brave.

“Dee, we can be quick.”

A huge smile breaks across his face as he reaches forward, pulling you on top of him. He fumbles with the drawstrings of his pants, quickly pulling them down. He tangles the flimsy lace of the expensive thong in his hand before he rips it off.

“Oh my god! We haven’t bought that yet.”

“Don’t care, I’ll buy you ten more,” he growls.

He grips your hips, lifting you slightly before guiding you onto his hard length. You both groan as he fills you completely. His hands move to cup your ass, encouraging you to ride him.

“Fast, baby. Fuck me fast,” he groans before leaning forward and kissing you. His hands roam your body before he palms your breasts through the lace of the bra, his thumbs brushing over the hard peaks of your nipples.

There’s a thrill of potentially getting caught that makes you ride him harder, roll your hips with more force, and bite your lip to stifle your moans and sighs.

You’ve never done something like this before–so risque, so close to getting caught. The suspense pushes you over the edge. Your body trembles as you orgasm on his cock, squeezing and clenching, urging him to cum. Dieter follows right after, burying his face in your neck to muffle his groan as he spills inside you.

You collapse against his chest, both of you breathing heavily. After a moment, Dieter chuckles softly. "Well, I think I liked that set.”

You giggle. “Me too. I can’t believe we just did that.”

“Whatever designer that is, buy everything they have.”

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-

December 27

You’ve been in London for five days, and tonight is the first night you’re actually leaving the hotel room for dinner. Yesterday, Dieter told you to surprise him and pick a dress, telling you he wanted to take you out on a proper date.

You’ve been holed up in the guest bedroom, digging through various Harrod’s bags and boxes, pulling out makeup, hair products, and jewelry to complete your outfit.

A light knock on the door catches your attention as you pull on your brand-new boots.

“The car’s here,” Dieter says at the door. “Reservation’s in twenty, Sweets.”

“Coming!” you shout.

—-

Dieter buttons up his plaid wool jacket, his fingers freezing on the last button when he looks up and sees you. The gold mini dress you’re wearing clings to your body, reminding him so much of the dress you wore the first night you met. The hem falls mid-thigh, your legs clad in black tights that end in knee-high boots. But what really catches his eye is the green scarf covered in golden stars that you’ve tied around your neck. He knew it’d look gorgeous against your skin. He wants to say fuck it and cancel the reservation right then and there.

“Wow, you look stunning, baby.”

“Thanks,” you shyly respond, smoothing down the front of your dress. “Is it too much?” You ask, glancing down at the top swell of your breasts framed by the v-neck neckline.

“Fuck no,” he chuckles. “It’s perfect. Though, maybe we should stay in.”

“No, Dee. I’m starving, and you promised me a proper date.”

He pulls you close, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “You’re right, let’s go.”

—-

The plates have long been cleared, and your glass is filled with more melted ice than gin and tonic. You haven’t been on an actual date in years.

Warren used to wine and dine you, take you to the fanciest restaurants, and surprise you with flowers. Then, your nights spent together dwindled, and the bouquets disappeared. It was then up to you to grow your own flowers.

The streets outside the restaurant are busy. Londoners walk, bundled up in coats, scarves, and hats, clouds of condensation puffing out from between their lips. You wonder if they’re all as happy as you are right now. Your hand in Dieter’s as he regales you with a story about a mismatched dance belt fiasco from his theatre days.

The candlelight flickers in his bright brown eyes and the dimple carved in his cheek is deeper as he smiles. He’s so gorgeous, it’s hard to believe it took you this long to give yourself this moment. Your lips tingle when you think about leaning over and kissing him, but you don’t. You’ll thank him for this night once you get back home.

“Dee,” you interrupt as he continues his story. 

“Yeah, baby?”

“Can you get the check?” You ask before glancing around and leaning in closer to him. “I’d like to go back home and suck your cock.” 

The table clangs and clatters as Dieter stands quickly, throwing a large wad of money on the surface before grabbing your hand. 

—

As soon as the elevator doors close, you’re on him, your lips capturing his.

“Whoa, baby,” he chuckles as you suck on his lower lip.

“Want… to… thank… you…” you say, punctuating each word with a kiss.

“Fuck.”

He lifts you into his hold, your legs wrapping around his waist.

The elevator dings open, and he stumbles out. Your kisses turn to licks along his jaw and down his neck. You’re already moaning for him, and he fumbles with the key card until, finally, the door beeps and swings open.

You’re already sliding down his body when the door shuts, hands trailing over his stomach as you sink to your knees, your fingers working at his belt buckle.

“Jesus, baby,” he groans, head falling back against the wall as you free his hardening cock from his pants.

He lets out an audible gasp when you look up at him through your lashes, a coy smile playing on your lips before you take him into your mouth.

He’s not a strong man. He’s thought of this so many times throughout the years. Your mouth all over him, not his spit-covered palm. The sound of your moans vibrating against his cock as you take him in deeper, not his soft whimpers as he jerks himself off. Your pretty face covered in his cum, not his hand and stomach.

Now, his thumbs feel the softness of your cheeks, hollowing and sucking him harder. He hears the soft keens mixed with the wet slurp as your tongue swirls around his head. His knees get weak right as your hand cups his balls, gently squeezing and massaging them.

He can already feel the rush of bliss overtaking his body. He knows he’s leaking against your tongue, and when you pull his cock out of your mouth, slapping it against your lips, he cums all over you.

Your jackets haven’t even been removed–the only sign of anything uncouth happening is his softening dick and your pretty face covered in his cum.

He can’t believe his luck, looking down at you smiling wide as you collect a dollop of him on your thumb and suck it off with a sweet “mmm.”

God, he loves you.

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-

December 28

“Man, I miss Lucky Charms,” Dieter sighs as he stirs a spoonful of sugar into his coffee.

“You should have told me. I could have packed you some.”

“Damn, good point. Well, I’ll be home in a few weeks at least.”

Home. Your vacation will soon be over. Your flight is booked for the 2nd. You know you need to get back home. Once Dieter goes back to filming, you’ll never see him, and you can’t stay cooped up in this hotel suite waiting—and distracting him. But damn, you don’t want to leave.

You wonder what the future holds for the two of you once he returns to Los Angeles. Has something fundamentally shifted between the two of you? You can’t imagine being in the same city as him but not together.

You're pulled from your thoughts by Dieter's hand on yours. "Hey, where'd you go just now?" he asks, his brow furrowed in concern.

"Just thinking about going home," you say with a small shrug.

His face falls slightly. “It’ll only be a few weeks.”

“I know, I just… I’m going to really miss you. Like a lo—”

Your phone dings, interrupting your confession. You look down.

notwarrengharding posted a tweet

Your curiosity gets the best of you, and you remind yourself for the hundredth time to turn off notifications for him as you go to Twitter.

It’s a photo. Of you—and Dieter—at the restaurant he took you to last night. Your head is thrown back in laughter, your smile wide. He’s grinning at you, his hand on yours, with his dark brown eyes glowing in the low light. You look like a couple in love.

You’re enamored by the photo until you notice Warren’s retweeted a celebrity gossip account with the eye-rolling emoji and the quote: “Trust is earned, respect is given, and loyalty is demonstrated.”

Your stomach drops. How dare he. 

“Fuck,” you sigh. Handing Dieter the phone.

His face sets in anger after his eyes widen when he sees the photo.

“Fuck, indeed.”

Panic sets in. That’s a paparazzi photo.

You knew this would happen eventually, but you weren't prepared for it to be so soon. And you certainly weren't prepared for Warren to chime in. Dread settles in your stomach.

“That’s… everywhere now. All over. W-Warren knows and-”

"And what?" Dieter interrupts gently. "So he knows we're together. Is that such a bad thing? He’s just being a petty asshole. Sweets, all that matters is what we have together here, nobody else. I’ve waited so long for this. For us. Fuck everyone else.”

“I just… I remember what happened with Anika, and I don’t want that to happen to me.” A tear falls down your cheek.

He gets up, kneeling down in front of you and gathering your hands in his. “Baby, look at me. Everything that happened between Ani and I was only because, for so long, I tried to recreate what I felt for you, what I thought you and Warren had, and I failed miserably at it. You’re my golden girl, only you.”

“I just… I don’t want this to cause problems for you. With your career or the press or-”

He cuts you off with a soft kiss. “Fuck everyone else, okay, baby?”

—-

You’re quiet today, keeping your face stuck behind a book you bought at Harrod's while Dieter studies his lines for the upcoming shoot days.

He tries to focus on his script, but his eyes keep drifting to you, curled up on the couch. Your brow is furrowed in concentration as you read, but he can see the tension in your shoulders. He knows you're still upset about the photo and Warren's post.

He sets the script aside and moves to sit next to you on the couch. Gently, he tugs the book from your hands. You look up at him, your eyes clouded with worry.

"Talk to me, Sweets," he says softly. "What's really bothering you?"

You sigh, leaning into him as he wraps an arm around you. "I'm scared, Dee. Everything felt so perfect before and… I don't know. I don't want to lose this."

Dieter pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple. "You're not going to lose me. Or this. I know my track record isn't great, but you're different. You've always been different."

He tilts your chin up, meeting your eyes. "I meant what I said earlier. Fuck everyone else. All that matters is you and me.”

He regrets so many parts of his past but never meeting you. Now that he has you, he’ll never let you go. The future used to always freak him out, but now, with you, it’s something he can’t wait for.

—-

There’s a cloud over the hotel suite, full of uncertainty and fear.

You try to focus on the book in your hands, but the words blur together as your mind races. The photo of you and Dieter keeps flashing in your thoughts, along with Warren's tweet.

You can almost hear his voice, dripping with fake concern as he shares the image with mutual friends, painting himself as the wronged party.

"Did you see this? I can't believe she'd do this to me…"

Bullshit. Warren left you. You shouldn’t feel guilty for moving on, for finding happiness with someone else… even if it is with Dieter. And yet…

You can’t fathom thinking about the tabloids and gossip sites, the way they’ve molded Dieter into whatever narrative they decide will sell. Tragic drug-addicted actor has-been, drunken playboy who has a new person to fuck every other week, happily married man who found love with a hotel receptionist, heart-breaking divorcee who will never find love, charming darling who booked a comeback project… you’ve seen them all.

But you know Dieter. He’s the most caring, sweetest, and thoughtful man you’ve ever met. You’re damn lucky to have had him as a friend, even luckier to have him in whatever way this is now.

Dieter sets his script aside, wrapping an arm around you. You feel the anxieties already disappearing, his touch reminding you of why this is all worth it.

His brown eyes, filled with concern, meet yours. “Fuck everyone else,” he whispers against your lips before pressing his gently against yours. 

—-

It’s one of those nights, the one where he’d typically toss and turn before getting up and downing a couple of sleeping pills with a whiskey chaser, but tonight, he simply lies awake. Your body nestled close, your smooth skin against his. There’s something about sharing a bed with you that still feels so foreign to him. Years of yearning to feel your touch, and now he has it. It still doesn’t feel real.

He remembers a couple of months after he had met you, you called him in a panic, saying your car had broken down on the freeway near the apartment he and Warren shared in Burbank. He grabbed his keys and bolted out the door. He couldn’t bear the thought of you alone and scared on the side of the road.

When he pulled up, he saw you, small and vulnerable, arms wrapped tightly around yourself. Your face flashing from worry to relief as you recognized him approaching.

He jumped out of his car, rushing to your side. The sight of you, tears streaking your cheeks and mascara smudged under your eyes, made his chest ache. The flat tire was obvious.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m here now,” he soothed, pulling you into his arms without thinking. You melted against him, your body shaking slightly as tears started to fall.

You looked up at him, your eyes wide and full of tears. “Thank you. I-I didn’t know who else to call. Warren and I… we’re not really talking right now, and I don’t have a spare and can’t afford a tow.” Your lower lip quivered as fresh tears spilled over.

"You can always call me, no matter what. I'll always come for you."

He was broke as hell, waiting for a residual check to come through, but he didn’t hesitate to call for a tow truck and pay for it. He drove you home and dropped you off. You leaned over and kissed his cheek softly. “Thank you, Dee. You’re my hero.”

As he watched you walk into your apartment building, he knew he was in deep. He would do anything for you. Like waiting years and years to finally have you in his arms.

Now that he has you, he’ll be damned if he lets anybody or anything come in between you. Whether it’s shitty ex-husbands, tabloids, or his own demons, he’s not going to let anything ruin this.

He thinks about the future, years down the line. Lazy mornings in bed, walking hand-in-hand through flea markets, laughing over shared meals. He pictures you by his side at red-carpet events, the cameras flashing around the two of you, a wide smile across his face as he shows off his golden girl. 

He sneaks out of bed, careful not to wake you, and throws his robe on before grabbing his phone. The air is cool as he opens the door, quickly walking out onto the same balcony he used to spend his late nights and early mornings on talking to you. He does the familiar math in his head. It’s 2 AM in London and only 6 PM in Los Angeles.

It only takes two rings for Alex to pick up.

“Bravo. It’s late there. Everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine. Listen, those photos of me and Sweets at the restaurant…”

“We’re aware.”

“Take care of them. I don't want her dragged into this. Make sure the tabloids know she's off-limits."

Alex sighs on the other end. "You know how this works. Once it's out there—"

"I don't care," he interrupts. "Use whatever connections you have. Call in favors. I'll do extra press, more interviews…” Dieter looks over when he hears the door open. You’re wrapped in a sheet, your tired eyes blinking back at him. “Whatever it takes. Just keep her name out of it."

There’s a pause before Alex responds. “Alright, I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, Alex,” he sighs and hangs up as you lay your body over his. You’re still warm from the bed, covering and comforting him like a blanket.

“Was that call about me?” you ask, your voice still soft and sleepy.

“Mm, it was.”

“You didn’t have to do that, Dee, Not for me. I’ll get over it, I’ve had to get over worse.”

“Sweets, look at me. I’ll do anything to keep you happy and protect you. I—” he struggles to say the truth, but he doesn’t want to complicate today for you even more. “Anything. You know that, right?”

You cuddle in closer to him. “I know,” you whisper. “I’d do anything for you too.”

“Anything?” he asks. “Do you think we could go inside? I can’t feel my toes.”

—

 “Fuck everyone else.” Dieter’s words echo in your mind.

A simple phrase, really, yet so powerful coming from him. The way he sprang into action, calling his agent in the middle of the night to shield you. You can’t remember the last time Warren made such a sacrifice for you–if he ever did. 

You nestle deeper into Dieter’s warm, strong arms wrapped around you, protected by his actions and steady breathing as he sleeps. 

You try to recall a single instance where Warren put your needs before his own. The memories are hazy, obscured by years of neglect and indifference. Your husband always focused on his own image and career. You were an accessory to be shown off when it suited him and ignored when it didn’t.

But here, in Dieter’s arms, you feel cherished. Valued. Protected. And… in love.

✨✨✨ A/N: Next chapter next week. Thank you for reading! Please feel free to yell at me. 💞

Alternative chapter header. ALF FOREVER

✨✨✨ Perma tagging: @schnarfer @mothandpidgeon @ohheypedrito Tagging some friends and lovers of GG (let me know if you'd like to be added or removed): @sawymredfox, @secretelephanttattoo, @galway-girlatwork, @whatumuhcallit, @chronically-ghosted @copperhalfcent, @jessthebaker, @moel-jiller, @sunnytuliptime, @jokesonthem @lotusbxtch, @mysterious-moonstruck-musings, @flawssy-227, @toomanystoriessolittletime, @littlemisspascal @cas-readsandwrites, @wave0fg00dvibes, @rulexofxnines, @tuquoquebrute, @littlevenicebitch69