#dieter bravo x fem. reader

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

private collection

Summary: Dieter asks you, his PA turned girlfriend, to take a video of him to help promote the project of a friend of his. He makes sure to thank you for it afterwards.

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x fem. reader

Wordcount: 2.3k

Rating: E

Warnings: based on that damn instagram dancing snippet, flirting, dancing, established relationship, kissing, smut (unprotected sex; oral sex f receiving), cum play, making some private videos, sneak of a bj at the end

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A/N: look, I had to. Somebody stop this man keep going. Used @iamasaddie's gif as Inspo (hope that's okay! Tumblr apparently won't let me message anyone from this account some reason 🥲) cause I suck at all things graphic design. Merry Crisis!

Full Masterlist // Dieter Bravo Masterlist

The night was coming to an end and you were tired. 

Dieter had insisted you come with him to a get together with some of his friends who were in town to promote their newest projects. Of course all of them knew that you were much more than just the PA the outside world knows you as.

You had been dating on and off for around four years. What started as a… mutual quarantine friends with benefits kinda situation turned into something more throughout the last year. You had been with him through his final successful rehab and you couldn’t be prouder of him being sober for almost two years now. By now you were living together, but keeping it all lowkey. You were still working as his PA, but not for that much longer. 

You’d start working at Dieter’s new production company as an production assistant in the next year. You had always wanted to work in that field, being Dieter’s PA and the pandemic only delaying your goal by a bit.

Not that you were mad about it.

Sure, you would still technically work for Dieter, but not like you did now. You would work for the COO of the company and not for Dieter directly. 

„Come dance with my baby,“ he gave you one of those smiles he knew you couldn’t resist, his friends already on their feet, music loud in the background as Dieter held his hand out for you. Knowing you couldn’t say no to him you took his hand and let him pull you up and into the middle of the room. 

It was a small private bar in some fancy restaurant, the only people around his friends and one bartender. Crossing your arms behind his neck, feelings his arms, his hands on your back you let him sway you to the music, his chest against yours. 

„You look really pretty tonight,“ he hummed with a small smile, kissing your forehead. 

„Thank you. My man got this dress for me,“ you grinned softly, your fingers playing with the soft hair in the back of his neck. It was just a black sweater dress he had surprised you with the week before.

„He got good taste, your man,“ he grinned back and you nodded. 

„He got his moments,“ you teased and he chuckled, swaying your bodies to the song. 

„Thank you for coming with me tonight. I know you wanted to stay in. But it was nice having you here with me. And I promise we will stay in for the whole weekend and do whatever you want,“ he said and you smiled at him. 

„Love you,“ you smiled softly and he mumbled a love you too, before he kissed you softly. 

You continued to dance for another two songs, one slow song, and one where Dieter attempted to teach you how to actually dance to the beat, but you were a lost cause, you both ending in a fit of giggles before he tells you that he wants to head home. 

You agreed, wanting to use the restroom before.

„Baby, you gotta help us,“ he called out to you when you came back into the room. With a raised eyebrow and a small smile you walked towards Dieter and his three remaining friends. 

„With what?“ You asked.

„Wanna promote his movie and had an idea,“ Dieter said, nodding towards one of his friends.

„Okay?“ You nodded, a little confused. 

„But these suckers can’t stop laughing while filming so you gotta,“ he winked and now you were intrigued. 

„What exactly am I going to be filming?“ You playfully narrowed your eyes. 

„Just little old me, dancing towards the camera while this song play,“ he shrugged innocently but you could see his eyes sparkling with mischief. 

You actually listened to the song, lips parting as you recognised it. Sucking your bottom lip between your teeth you looked up at Dieter before you playfully rolled your eyes, holding your hand out for his phone. He kissed your nose softly before he walked back towards the other side of the room while someone put the song on repeat and turned it louder. 

„How slutty is this going to be?“ You asked with a small grin as you searched through his phone for the camera app. 

„Oh you know me, baby. Just the right amount,“ he winked at you and you chuckled before you straightened up, watching him with a smile as you pressed record. 

„Do your worst then, Bravo,“ you challenged and he danced towards you, smoulder full on, his eyes on you behind the phone as he moved his body, pulling his arms up, hands towards his face as he danced closer towards you. You bit your lip as you watched him, asking yourself how you got so lucky to get to call him yours when his lips twitched into a smile as he was close to you, his hands coming to rest on your hips as he kissed your cheek, your skin suddenly flushed at his little performance. You chuckled as you stopped the video before you tilted your chin up to kiss him softly. 

„Let’s get out of here?“ He asked and you nodded.

You used the way home to edit his social media posts, taking a little longer than usual to edit the clip of him dancing, cutting the last part of him kissing you out. 

„Gotta say this video hits different cause I get to experience just how well you can move your hips on an almost daily basis,“ you said with a small smile and felt Dieter look at you from the drivers seat. 

„Aren’t you a lucky girl?" He teased and you looked up at him. 

„Can’t argue with that,“ you sighed with a dreamy smile and felt his hand on your thigh the next moment. You were finished with editing by the time Dieter parked his car in his garage. 

„You wanna look or should I just post?“ You asked. 

„Just post it,“ he said. 

„You sure? Pretty sure that video could qualify as foreplay,“ you grinned and he chuckled. 

„Merry Christmas to everyone watching then,“ he winked before he got out of the car. As he rounded the car to open your door, you hit post, putting his phone into your purse as you let him help you out of the car. 

„How do you feel about some actual foreplay upstairs?“ He asked before he kissed you as soon as you were out of the car, your back leaning against the car door. 

„Pretty sure you could just fuck me right here from how wet it made me to watch this video two hundred times while editing,“ you mumbled against his lips, feeling his twitch into a smile. 

„While I’d love to do just that,“ he whispered, one of his hands tilting you head up, the palm of his hand caressing your cheek. 

„I really want you to sit on my face,“ he winked before he pulled you into his house.

„Oh my god, Dieter,“ you gasped, your fingers wrapped around the wooden headboard in front of you, Dieter’s arms wrapped around your thighs, his head between them as he ate you out. 

He really did not waste any time to get you to sit on his face as soon as you made it upstairs, stripping down himself then you quickly, before pulling you on top of him. 

His tongue was merciless, playing with your pussy like only he could, bringing you closer and closer towards your first orgasm. One of his arms let go of your thigh, his hand coming up to play with your tits, palm squeezing one of them softly. 

„Shit, baby. Right there, suck on my clit,“ you moaned, crying out when he did just that, your walls clenching around nothing seconds later as your orgasm washed over you, your lips parted with a satisfied smile, head thrown back as you rode it out, one of your hands coming down to slip into his hair as he continued to lick into you. 

Finally you looked down, finding his dark eyes already fixed on you and you slipped down his chest, his hands coming to rest on your hips as you straddled his, slowly rubbing your drenched pussy over his cock. 

„You’re so fucking sexy, baby,“ he said as he licked his lips and you grinned before you leaned down to meet his lips in a sloppy kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. 

„Want you to ride my cock baby, please,“ he whined between kisses, as you continued to slip his cock through your wet folds. 

„Yeah?“ You teased against his lips. 

„Fuck, yes please,“ he whimpered, his hands kneading your ass as he helped you move on top of him. You loved how needy he got sometimes.

„What if I really want to suck your cock?“ You asked and he groaned. 

„Later. Wanna be inside you now,“ and you hadn’t it in you to tease him any longer, sitting yourself up and wrapping your hand around his cock to line him up. 

You both moaned when you sunk down on him, every inch of his thick cock stretching you perfectly just like it did since the first time you had fucked until you were sitting on top of him, cock deep inside of you. 

„Shit, your pussy is so fucking perfect,“ Dieter moaned and you smiled down at him. His eyes on your tits before he looked up into your eyes. 

„All of you is fucking perfect,“ he moved his hips beneath you and you gasped. With both of your hands on his chest you began to move on top of him, first rolling your hips before you slowly began to ride his cock.

„Feels so good, Dieter,“ you moaned softly, enjoying the way his cock was stretching you out. 

„Yeah?“ He asked, both of his hands on your tits, playing with them. You sucked your bottom lip in, nodding as you began to move faster, bouncing on his cock. He began to move too, thrusting up into you to meet you halfway, the sound of skin smacking against skin filling the room. 

„You close?“ He asked and you nodded. 

„Good girl. Use my cock and make yourself cum. It’s yours,“ he groaned and you moaned. 

„Wanna fuck you from behind after you cum, shoot my cum all over your back,“ he said, his eyes on you as he fucked up into you harder. 

„Oh fuck,“ you moaned, arching your back as your second orgasm rushed through you, your hands covering Dieter’s that were still on your tits as you slowly rode it out. 

As you breathed deeply you looked down at Dieter with a fucked out smile on your lips. 

„Hands and knees baby,“ he winked up at you and you sighed before you got up from him and let Dieter help you get you on your hands and knees, still feeling a little wobbly from your second orgasm, his cock back inside of you within seconds. He grabbed his pillow, pushing it under your chest and you let yourself fall down even further, your ass up in the air as he fucked into you. 

„You good?“ He asked and you nodded. 

„Use me, baby,“ you said, the side of your head on the mattress, wiggling your ass playfully and he slapped it twice. 

„Tell me if it gets to much,“ he said and you nodded, crying out at the next moment as he began to fuck you with hard, deep thrusts. Somehow he felt even deeper like this and it was like you could feel him everywhere as he pumped himself into you, the bed squeaking beneath you with how hard he was fucking you. 

It felt so fucking good, Dieter knowing just how he had to touch you to make you feel good.

„Oh fuck I’m gonna cum,“ he groaned and you nodded desperately. 

„Cum for me baby,“ you whined, already feeling his cock twitching inside of you before he pulled out. You turned your head to look up at him, his hand jerking off his cock, a long groan escaping his lips before you felt the first rope of his cum on your back. His eyes were closed, head thrown back as he milked himself dry and you hummed with a tired smile, his eyes opening when he finished, finding yours. 

With a fucked out smile he looked down at you before he looked at the mess he made of you. Leaning down you gasped when you felt his tongue run up your spine, licking himself off before your felt one of his hand on your arm, finding yourself on your back moments later with him towering over you, his lips meeting you in a messy almost desperate kiss, both of you moaning as you shared the taste of his cum. 

„Your so fucking filthy,“ you mumbled against his lips with a grin. 

„You love it,“ he grinned back and you  kissed him again, your arms crossing behind his back and he landed on top of you with a surprised huff. 

„I really fucking do,“ you agreed with a laugh. 

The next morning, you were only wearing his shirt form last night, you sneakily filmed him in his kitchen as he made breakfast for you, wearing only some very low hanging grey sweatpants. 

You filmed him as he danced through the kitchen, Christmas lights hanging on his kitchen window as Wham’s „Last Christmas“ played in the background. Excited for the first Christmas you would spend as a couple.

And much later it was Dieter who filmed you, him with a Christmas hat on and you, with his cock down your throat. 

But those videos would remain private. 

For just you and him.

[jennaispunk]

Save Me

Summary: A professional rejection leads Dieter down a dark path. Can he find his way back?

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x f!reader

Word Count: 2k

Tags/Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, worry, drug use, mentions of abusive childhood (Dieter), mention of Dieter being a bit of an asshole (but he loves reader), two people in love who are just trying to figure it out. Internal dialogue is in italics. No physical description of reader is given. The photos in the moodboard are for aesthetic only.

A/N: This is for @bitchesuntitled sober Dieter challenge. I’m so proud of you, bb!! 💜💜 This story was inspired by Save Me by Jelly Roll. If you haven’t heard it, go listen right now. It’s an amazing song that really captures the reality of addiction.

Somebody save me, me from myself

I’ve spent so long living in hell….

Dieter groans loudly and shields his eyes. Why is it so bright in here? Where the fuck am I? He didn’t even know what day it was or how long he’d been there. His throat feels like it’s been sandblasted. There’s no clear memory of how he ended up here. He falls off the couch and stumbles to the bathroom, his head still spinning. Swiping his hand down his face, he looks at his reflection. He doesn’t even recognize the person staring back at him. This must be what rock bottom feels like. He supposed this was bound to happen; he’d always been one for self-sabotage. He had the girl of his dreams, more money than he knew what to do with but somehow, he’d managed to fuck it all up. He’d been able to brush off rejection before, but this one felt personal. That role was going to make his career. His father’s words kept ringing in his head, taunting him. An actor? You can pretend all ya want…you’ll always be a loser, kid. Don’t come crawling back home when it doesn’t work out. He chuckled darkly. That lousy old man never believed in him, but he sure had his hand out when the first big check came in.

He thought he had it all under control. He’d managed to keep his drug use to a minimum for months. He’d been so determined to change, and you’d been such a big help with that. You were the supportive presence he needed, always there to talk him down off the ledge.

He whispers your name to his reflection. The acrid tang of bile hits the back of his throat. You must be worried sick. He’s surprised you weren’t blowing up his phone. Dead. Ah fuck, this is bad. He said some awful things to you, and he wouldn’t be surprised if you’d packed your shit and gotten as far away as you could. He deserves all that and more for what he’s done.

Three days…That’s how long it’s been since Dieter slammed the door as he walked out. The rattle still echoes in your head as you sit on the overstuffed couch in your shared penthouse apartment. You’d never seen him so angry. He wasn’t the type to yell or get overly upset about anything. You knew it was the drugs and depression talking, but that didn’t make his words hurt any less. You knew his demons; he’d shown you the parts of him he kept hidden from the rest of the world. He told you about his shitty childhood, how his father had been emotionally abusive to him and his mother, and how he struggled with depression. There had been times when he’d disappear for a day, but he always came back to you. He never left you overnight without a word.

You stare at your phone willing it to ring. God, please let him be okay. You can feel him slipping further away from you every minute he’s gone. All you need is to hear his voice, to know that he isn’t hurt or worse, but all you get is silence…and it’s deafening. You’ve called anyone that you think might know something. The answer is always the same: I haven’t heard from him. I’m sure he’s fine. You know Dieter, don’t worry so much. The thing was, they didn’t really know Dieter at all. They knew the chaotic, free spirit who was always down for a good time. They didn’t know the parts of him he only let you see.

Looking back on it now, you should have seen it coming. This last rejection really hurt him. You knew how bad he wanted that part. It was going to be a game changer for him, his chance to prove to Hollywood that he was a serious actor and that was all torn to shreds when they went with another actor. At first, he been able to brush it off, but as the days wore on you could see how much it affected him.

It started with little things: sleeping in late, changes in his appetite. Then he started snapping at you. He’d yell at you for the littlest things. One time it was so bad that you hid in the bathroom and cried. It all culminated with his drug use getting out of control. He had been doing so well up until that point. He hadn’t touched any hard drugs in months, just the occasional smoke or edible, mostly when he was painting. When you came home three days ago to find cocaine sprinkled over the coffee table, you confronted him and that’s when everything went to hell. You argued, he screamed at you and then he left.

You were so worried about him that you’d barely eaten or slept. You drove around the streets of LA, stopping at some of his old hangouts hoping to find him. The only thing keeping you from calling the police is that you don’t want the press to somehow find out that he was missing. That would be a disaster for his career, and he would never forgive you for that.

Tears prick at your eyes as you check your phone for the millionth time. He hasn’t called or texted and no one has sent word that they’ve heard from him. Your chest feels tight, it’s harder to get air in your lungs. The longer he is gone, the more likely it is that something terrible has happened to him. You can’t take not knowing any longer and dial the number to the local police station, your shaking thumb hovering over the send button.

Your eyes snap up as the door to the apartment opens. Dieter walks in and you gasp softly.

“Dee!”

You rush to him and throw your arms around his neck. Tears leak from your eyes as you hold him close to you. He stands like a statue in your grip making no move to wrap his arms around you.

“I’m so glad you came home.” You whisper in his ear.

He’s shocked that you’re still here. His throat is dry, and he swallows hard. How does he even begin to apologize? Forgiveness isn’t something he deserves.

The sickly sweet mixture of vomit and whiskey hits your nostrils, and you slowly pull away from him. Your jaw drops, as you notice just how awful he looks. Disheveled clothing and extra messy hair make the dark circles under his eyes stand out even more. A small cut adorns his forehead, the dried blood crusted to his skin.

“I’m sorry, babe.” he croaks through chapped lips. It’s weak, a piss poor apology for what he put you through, but that’s the best he can do right now.

Your heart felt like it was in a vice grip. Nothing would have prepared you for this. The stories that you heard of his past pale in comparison to reality. This is not the man you fell in love with. The man in front of you is broken and defeated. He’d never let himself get this down before, at least not since he’d met you. That was all in the past. What has he done to himself?

“It’s okay, baby.” You coo softly. “We don’t have to talk about it right now. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You take his hand and lead him to the bathroom. You simultaneously thank and curse every deity you can think of. The man you love has been reduced to a shell of himself and you’re not exactly sure how to help him. The last thing you want to do is make this worse, comforting him is your only goal now.

He’s completely silent as you turn on the shower. You strip him of his dirty clothes as the steam fills the room. The first thing you need to do is get him clean and get him some sleep. The serious conversation you need to have can wait until morning.

You undress yourself and guide him under the hot water. The water cascades over the two of you and you smile at him, hoping to assure him that everything is fine. You encourage him to tilt his head back to wet his hair. You scrub his hair, massaging his scalp with loving care. After rinsing the shampoo from his hair, you scrub his scruffy beard to remove the bits of dried vomit stuck there. Next, you wash his body with slow, gentle strokes. You can only hope this shower is comforting for him, he’s devoid of emotion right now. The soapy suds slide down his body and onto the shower floor as you feel him start to finally relax just a bit. If it were only that easy to wash away his hurt and his pain. You bite back your tears as you turn off the water. He doesn’t need to see you cry right now; he needs you to be strong for him.

His jaw twitches as you guide him from the shower. I’ve royally fucked up; how can she forgive me for this? He really went off the deep end this time and he knows it. His last act of love will be to make you save yourself; to give you an out so he doesn’t ruin your life too. He’s done enough damage.

“You should go…” he says softly. “I’m a lost cause. I’m just going to drag you down with me.”

Your brow furrows. Leaving was not an option for you. You were in this for the long haul, and you weren’t going to let him push you away. There was no way in hell you were walking out.

“I’m not going anywhere, babe. You’re stuck with me.”

Tears well in his eyes and he crushes you to his chest. He holds onto you like his life depends on it, a desperate act of a drowning man.

You silently wrap your arms around his waist, your own feeble attempt to anchor him, to let him know that he’s not alone. You’ll be there every step of the way, but you can’t save him; He has to be the one to save himself.

His shoulders bounce as he silently sobs. He murmurs apologies into your hair over and over again, tears streaming down his face. “I need help… please help me. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

You silently thank every God or spirit you can think of. He’s asking for help and you’re going to do everything in your power to get him whatever he needs.

“Shhhh, it’s okay.” You whisper. “I’m going to help you, baby.”

You guide him to the bed and help him lay down, encouraging him to lay his head on your chest. Unshed tears prick your eyes as you try to find the right words to say to soothe him.

“Sleep now.” You murmur as you stroke his hair. “We’ll figure everything out in the morning.”

The quiet hangs heavy between you; his occasional heavy breath punctuating the silence. His asking for help was only the first step of a long journey. Nothing was going to be fixed overnight; you couldn’t just snap your fingers and make all of this go away no matter how badly you wished you could.

He knew just how big of a mess he’d made of things. Storming out on you like that and going on a binge was a horrible mistake. It was going to take work to fix this, but he had to do it, for himself and for you.

“Please don’t give up on me.”

His whispered plea shatters your heart into a thousand pieces. You clear your throat to choke back your tears.

“I won’t ever give up on you, Dee.” you whisper as you wrap your arms around him even tighter.

“I love you too much to quit on you now. Don’t give up on yourself.”

He lets out a shaky breath. Too many people had given up on him in the past, written him off without giving him a chance, but not you. He’s so grateful that you want to stick around. He doesn’t know if he could do this without you.

“I love you, too.”

He had a long road ahead and it scared the shit out of him. Could he finally get sober after so many slip ups? Honestly, he didn’t know but he was going to try, whether that meant rehab or outpatient treatment, whatever it took. He was going to try like hell to be the man he wanted to be, for himself and for you.

[psychedelic-ink]

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐌𝐄

ㅤㅤdieter bravo x f!reader

genre: smut, pwp, minors dni, friends to lovers? kinda

word count: 1.4k

summary: you and dieter get high on gummies.

warnings: edibles (gummies), heavy petting, high talk, for the sake of this fic the gummy shows affect very quickly, oral (fem receiving), nipple play, dirty talk, dieter is a menace, lots of grinding, also when i say pwp I REALLY mean no plot, just friends making out essentially, everything is %100 consensual

Your eyes widen gradually as you witness Dieter lean closer, his smile boyish as he holds a red gummy between his teeth. 

"Come on," he says, brows curling upwards. "You take half, I take half." 

Your eyes move between the gummy and the gorgeous brown of his eyes. It hadn't been long since you and Dieter started hanging out, not a lot had been shared between you two, other than your love of movies and, surprisingly, tabletop games. 

Staring at his expectant gaze, you burst into a giggle when he wiggles his brows. Finally, with an exasperated exhale, you shake your head and lean closer. 

"Fine, you dork. I don't have work tomorrow anyway." 

"Perfect," he grazes the sugary surface of the gummy against your bottom lip. "Bon Appetit."

You feel the softness of his lips as you bite down into the flesh of the sugary delight. You expect him to move back, for him to immediately chew and swallow, but instead, he lingers, keeping his lips flush against yours as you take half the gummy into your mouth. The sugars dissolve, leaving a bare and imperfect surface. It tastes a bit like strawberry, but it is overwhelmed by the taste of cannabis. 

Wrinkling your nose, you pull away, he laughs. “You’re so dramatic.” 

“Says the Queen of Drama,” you snap back, sticking your tongue. “Also you can’t convince me that this tastes good.” 

“Hey I never said it tasted good, I said it’ll get us high as fuck.” 

“Those were your exact words,” you mutter, leaning back. “So what now? We just wait for the hit?” 

“Pretty much.” Your eyes follow him as he nestles closer, the warmth of his body seeping into your own. A shudder runs up your spine, an involuntary sound escapes your throat. He’s a charmer, that’s for sure. Easy on the eyes. 

He lays a palm over your tight, spreads his fingers. Another shudder. “You like it when I touch you?” 

It’s phrased as a question but, for some reason, you don’t feel like he needs an answer. His thumb begins to draw shallow lines, up and down, over and over. Slick gathers between your legs and without a second thought, you instinctively rub them together. You start to feel it then, the delightful buzz from mother nature. A giggle rises from your throat. 

“This feels really good,” you say, he gently presses his nails down, liquid heat drips from your spine. 

“Which one?” 

You think you don’t understand what he means, but you do. “Both. Both feel good.” 

“Good,” he mutters, his voice dropping. “Come’ere. Let me make you feel even better.” 

He tugs you along until you’re firmly seated on his lap, without a second thought you roll down your hips, feeling the hard line of his cock. Your breath hitches, a tiny moan escaping. Dieter grins as his hands dances along your arms, only stopping to pull you down against his clothed cock. You gasp, a buzzing sensation shooting up your spine. You feel his soft lips on your chin, he nips the skin softly before traveling further down to take a hearty bite from your neck. 

Your hips twitch, your eyes rolling back, “F–Fuck, Dieter—” 

“Feels really good huh?” he licks the salt of your skin, more slick gathers between your legs, your cunt pulsing with need and want. “You’re so sweet—tell me how good I’m making you feel.” 

The words are caught in your throat, your body a live wire as it becomes nothing but melted metal underneath Dieter’s touch, only for him to mold. 

His hands sneak underneath your shirt and with one swift motion, he pulls it off, leaving you in nothing but your bra. You expect him to rip the lace off with the same hunger but instead, he holds the cups and tugs them down, exposing your breasts. He dips down mouth open wide, he sucks a hard nipple into his mouth and moans, his hips sharply thrust up. 

Your eyes flutter closed, he feels too good, every patch of skin tingling. He sucks hard as he rolls his hips over and over, making you feel every inch that you don’t have inside of you. Some part of your heart feels rage for that. You want him. Every inch of him. His fingers begin to play with the other nipple. 

“Tell me what I want to hear baby, or else I’m stopping.” 

“You’re amazing,” you gasp. “I can’t get enough of this…this feeling. Fuck, Dieter—I—I need—” 

His mouth is flush against your ear, you shudder, “I can feel how soaked you are through your sweats, sweetheart. I know exactly what you need.” Momentarily you let out a breath of relief, he would give you what you want, what you need— “Too bad you’re not getting it until I make you come like this first.” 

It’s almost as if someone dropped an icy bucket of water over your head. It clashes with the agonizing warmth he’s making you feel, a cry ripping from your throat, he smiles. 

“W-What? What?” 

“I know this feeling, have experienced it myself,” Dieter grins. “Sit still and enjoy the ride, sweetheart.” 

You choke on a whimper, buckling down against him. Dieter continues his torturous movements, his lips now biting and nipping at your neck while his hands wander down to your soaked sweats. He pulls them down, exposing your throbbing clit to the cool air. Without hesitation, he tightens his fingers around it, his movements hard and fast. 

You can't contain the moans and gasps that escape your lips, your body trembling with pleasure. Dieter's lips move to yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth as his fingers work you into a frenzy. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, the pleasure building up within you. 

Suddenly, he stops, leaving you panting and desperate for release. 

“Please.” 

“Please what?” 

“Let me come, please. Please Dieter.” 

Your begging is getting closer and closer to sounding like dying whispers, tiny dots are starting to appear. You’re on the verge of passing out, in ways you’ve never thought someone could pleasure you. Hypnotized by his eyes and his hand movements as he plugs away yet you can’t help but think about how you’re stuck on pause, yet he looks like he could keep on going. 

"Is that all it takes to get you going?" Dieter's voice is low, his lips red and plump from kissing every patch of skin. He looks at you with a sense of satisfaction, like he's accomplished something great. "I can make you come just from touching you like this."

You moan in frustration, unable to form words as you try to push your hips forward, seeking any sort of relief. Dieter laughs, a dark and hungry sound that reverberates through your body. "I told you, baby, you're not getting to the fun part until you come like this first."

"Dieter, please," you whimper, your voice laced with need. 

He simply grins and stands up, taking you with him. He leads you to the bedroom, pushing you down on the bed before crawling over you, his eyes dark with desire.

"I want to taste you," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. 

He lowers himself between your legs, his tongue flicking over your clit and causing you to writhe beneath him. His tongue moves expertly, teasing and flicking until you can't take it anymore. With a loud cry, you come undone, your body shaking with the intensity of your release. 

Dieter keeps lapping up your wetness, making sure to draw out every last drop of pleasure from you. When he finally pulls away, you're left breathless and sated.

As you lay there, panting and trying to catch your breath, Dieter cuddles up next to you, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin. 

"Wow," you say finally, still trying to recover from the intense pleasure he just gave you. "That was...amazing."

"Remind me to get high with you more often," you laugh, finally able to form coherent words.

"Oh, I will definitely be reminding you," Dieter grins, his fingers tracing soothing circles on your back. "But for now, let's just enjoy this high and each other's company."

With a sly smile, you roll on top of him, ready for round two. Dieter's playful smirk mirrors your own as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you in for another kiss.

You can't help but think that this was just the beginning of a wild, passionate, and exciting journey with Dieter by your side. And you couldn't wait to see where it would take you next.

[dimlylittorch]

My fic recommendation list🖋️:

THESE ARE NOT WRITTEN BY ME

- Ruins: Joel Miller x ftm!reader - Author

- Epiphany: Logan Howlett x fem!reader - Author

- Taco Tuesday: Gambit x reader - Author

- Not Titled: Joel Miller x ftm!reader - Author

- Who’s Your Daddy?: Joel Miller x fem!reader - Author

- Nooner: Darth Vader x fem!reader - Author

- Is It That Sweet?: Joel Miller x fem!reader - Author

- Bouquet: Dieter Bravo x fem!reader - Author

- At The Emperor’s Word: Viktor x Jayce x fem!reader - Author

- My Burning Sun Will Someday Rise: Joel Miller x fem!reader - Author

Hope the authors don’t mind being on here!! If you do just lmk and I’ll remove your work from this list!

@slamminslamminmcgill @mypoisonedvine @joelsgoldrush @taintandviolent @gutsby @void-my-warranty @joelscruff @le-fruit-de-la-passion @littlcdarlin

[prolix-yuy]

Simulated

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader Actress

Summary: You're a professional, which is why a sex scene with Dieter Bravo will be no problem at all. Now you just have to convince yourself to believe it.  

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, descriptions of male and female bodies, simulated sex, grinding, fantasizing about sex, anxiety, lil bit of size kink, probably incorrect method for filming sex scenes but I'm using what I know and making up the rest. Don't do this for real, this is fantasy and Dieter is a filthy boy.

Notes: This leapt out of my brain and was enabled by the Discord besties. Dieter brainrot is setting back in but I doubt anyone's complaining. This may be the sexiest thing I've ever written without actual sex happening, but you all can be the judge of that.

Cross-posted on AO3

Midnight Alley Masterlist

Trembling on the verge of passing out is not how you wanted your first time in Dieter Bravo’s arms to be, but no amount of reprimands to your rebelling body have worked. 

It’s not him, far from it. Dieter had been nothing but gentlemanly since you came in for scene blocking. The director offered to have stand-ins while they adjusted lighting and staged the shots, but you boldly offered to come in anyways. It wasn’t your first shoot, but it was your first sex scene, and you wanted to impress the director with your no-nonsense attitude about it. 

All that confidence flew out the window when you came face to face with your scene partner, Dieter Bravo. Well aware of his aloof playboy nature, you didn’t expect his handshake to be so warm, the quirk of his smile to make your heart flutter, or for him to smell so strongly of eucalyptus. Apparently his agent mentioned you would be there for staging, and he decided to come in to test your chemistry. No issues there, your curious eyes roaming over his wrinkled cargo pants and threadbare sweater. He could be wearing nothing and you’d still melt into a puddle. Which, shockingly, wouldn’t be that far in the future.

Calm down, girl. Be professional.

To be fair, Dieter is fucking gorgeous, even under the bloodshot eyes and air of annoyance. His curls are even softer looking in person, heavy shoulders stretching his t-shirts and bulky forearms complimenting his thick thighs. Even the little pooch of a tummy makes you salivate. While your friends drool over Tom Hiddleston or Harry Styles, your heart beats fast for men who can crush you under their bulk. “Weighted blanket boys,” you like to call them, and Dieter wholly falls into that category. 

Which is why when you got the casting call for a bit part in the crime drama Midnight Alley, which Dieter had been co-starring in for three seasons, you leapt at the opportunity. Even if you didn’t get to share a scene, at least you could catch a glimpse, maybe say hello. That was surely worth the long hours. His proclivities for casual sex definitely didn’t fit into that plan. No sir. Definitely not.

It all became real when you got the pages. Your character was a one night stand, relegated to three scenes - the bar where you make eyes across a crowd, the tasteful sex scene (though only barely - tv ratings have really changed in the last twenty years), and the morning after when he leaves to go to a crime scene. The “gaze across the smoky dance floor” was easy enough; anyone with half a brain and a pulse would blush at Dieter’s intense stare, raised eyebrow, and sly grin, a signature of his questionable character. It raises goosebumps down your arms, his parted lips and the slip of his pink tongue resting just inside, the crinkle of his eyes when he knows he’s got you. If a man ever gave you that look you’d be in his bed in moments. 

Scratch that. Not just any man. Dieter’s the only one who could pull that off.

The blocking should have evened out your nerves, and in the moment you believed it did. Dieter was an absolute gentleman, even warmer than you hoped, as you waited to be called on set.

“Ever done a scene like this before?”

“First time. Can you tell?”

He thumbed through his thicker script.

“Wasn’t going to make you more nervous by pointing it out. But yes.”

You blew out a puff of air, making Dieter smirk even more as you crinkled your sheets.

“How do we…?”

“You know the direction?”

“Yeah, it seems…straightforward.”

“Well, today we’re just going to do the major movements - positions, angles, you know - and while they mark focus and shine a light directly up my asshole, we can talk.”

A burst of giggles pulled a wider smile onto his face, waiting for you to calm yourself.

“What do we talk about?”

“What’s comfortable for you. What would pull you out of the scene. What you’re open to. You’re our guest after all.”

So your afternoon was spent pantomiming the sex acts written for you and…talking. Which wasn’t supposed to be sexy, or like two hours of incredibly hot foreplay, but your body apparently didn’t get the memo.

“Anything you really don’t want me to touch? Besides the obvious,” Dieter asked, coming down from his hands to his elbows by your face. The tip of his nose brushed briefly against yours. A hairlight shifted in your periphery.

“My ribs are pretty ticklish,” you admitted, nodding to the assistant director Ramona when she moved on to the next setup. Scooping his hands behind your back, Dieter pulled you on top, showing how to sit a little further up on his stomach to fake the grinding. Unfortunately, the plush flesh against your core didn’t help with the ache.

“Here’s okay?” he asked, wrapping his hands just under your breasts, the tips of his thumbs barely grazing the swell. You nodded, body getting jolted again when the director Adiel asked for Dieter to scoot up the bed a few inches.

“My, uh…” you said, then stopped as you lost confidence. Dieter took his hands off your chest and laced them on his own. He looked up at you expectantly. “My…nipples are really sensitive, so I know I’ll have pasties on and everything, but, it’s like, uncomfortable if they get touched certain ways. So I just wanted to…warn you of that. It shouldn’t be a problem, just, ah, you know, just in case.” Your throat closed up, embarrassment at even saying anything crushing your tongue against the roof of your mouth.

“Thanks for telling me, I appreciate it.” Dieter patted your thigh and his smile was a little more tender than before. 

God, he really looked good underneath you.

“My skin’s sensitive too, scratches show up really clearly on it and it pisses off the cinematographer. So that’s the only thing we’ll have to watch out for there.” The shuffle of changing positions interrupts your conversation until you’re on your stomach with him pressed against your back.

“Sorry if I pop one too, it’s kind of par for the course with these. I’m good at keeping it under control for the most part.” You giggle into the pillow as he hovers over you. 

“My biggest advice?” Dieter murmurs, mouth close to your ear. You hum into the pillow. “Let yourself have fun. It’s not gonna feel natural, but that doesn’t mean it’s gotta feel cold. You won’t offend me if you go off script. I might too, if it feels right. If we’re having fun, the audience will too.”

The weight of his body bearing down on you drives any more anxieties out of your blissed-out brain.

The day of the sex scene comes quicker than you’d like, and the tender crush you’d been nursing for Dieter has become a panicked bird inside your ribcage. You’d spent the hours before preparing, mentally and physically with an indulgent morning routine, but nothing can stop your nerves when Dieter catches sight of you and gives a little wave. He’s in jeans and a black button-up, hair being artfully styled but sunglasses still on. One knee bounces in the chair but otherwise he looks cool as a cucumber. 

The sliver of golden chest you peep through the neck of his shirt sends you scurrying to your dressing room.

Everything leading up to the moment you step on set is distraction. Chatting with makeup, hair, props, with the fucking boom operator who looks just as confused as you are that you’re asking about good places to eat in the area. You talk with the intimacy coordinator, who gives you final notes on the scene. (“If Dieter makes you uncomfortable at all you give me The Eyes and I’ll correct him. No questions asked. I’ve worked with him for years, and I will cuss him out to his face.”) Eventually there’s no one left, and you’re standing alone clutching a water bottle to your chest when Dieter sidles up.

“Nervous?”

You almost jump out of your bathrobe. Which would suck because all you had on was a dark lace lingerie set, pair of pasties and the strange modesty patch protecting your lady bits. Sometimes seeing the behind-the-scenes really did erase the movie magic.

“Yeah, sorry. It’s a little more real now than the rehearsal,” you sigh, and Dieter’s bray of a laugh actually calms you. He puts a hand on your back and rubs firm, soothing circles that bring your heart back into an acceptable rhythm.

“You’ll do fine. And I’ve done this…eh, probably more times than it’s polite to mention. You’re in good hands.” He pulls off his sunglasses, treating you to rich brown eyes you could lose yourself in if you weren’t a professional, goddammit. 

“Close the set, please!” Ramona calls out, and the nonessential crew files out until it’s just you and Dieter and about eight other people who will be watching you writhe and moan. Taking in a deep breath and letting it out loudly, you shake your limbs and metaphorically gird your loins (since they already are pretty girded).

“Can I have actors on set please?” You stride up to the bed with as much confidence as you can muster, Dieter strolling up behind you. Now that he’s close he smells like fresh cotton and spice, a sharp shift from the earthier scents you’d been experiencing. Even a hint of mint from his breath, suddenly thankful you’d brushed and mouthwashed twice. 

“Positions for Scene 17.”

Yes, the first shot. Dieter would be hovering over you, kissing you as he pulls his shirt off. You would be in your bra and panties, slivers of your body visible in the frame but Dieter’s broad chest and unbuttoned waistband on display. Sliding the bathrobe off and placing it off camera, you arrange your limbs on the bed, hands shaking just a little now. Dieter stands at the foot, and if you weren’t about to simulate sex you’d swear he was devouring you with his heavy gaze.

Just getting into character. Breathe.

“Roll sound.”

“Speed.”

“Scene 17a, take one. Roll camera.”

“Rolling.”

“...Action.”

As the set drops to silence, you watch Dieter change from the slightly aloof but sympathetic actor to a brooding morally gray detective needing to bury his failures in a soft body. Despite your coaching, your eyes widen at the set of his jaw, how dark his eyes become when he wrenches off the offending button-up. He sinks to his knees between your thighs and hovers over you, hands pushed into the mattress on either side of your head. 

“Be good for me, yeah?” he husks, deeper and full of gravel. You nod, and he descends to crush your lips together. He urges your mouth open and works your lips together, but his tongue stays obediently behind his teeth. 

Fuck, for a second you forgot you were acting.

His hips dip, denim scraping along the inside of your thighs. He parts from your mouth with a gasp, forehead coming down to press against yours. He takes a deep breath, then…

“Cut! Reset.”

You blink slowly, Dieter already lifting back up to stand at the foot of the bed, rebuttoning his shirt. 

“Any notes?” he asks, voice so calm and clear you snap back to the reality of the situation. 

“When you’re kissing, pull her thighs up around you,” Adam says, Dieter’s head swiveling back.

“That all right by you?” he asks, smoothing the shirt on his skin. 

“Yeah, yeah, absolutely,” you answer, trying not to croak out the words. It was just the first take, it’s fine that you’re a little off-kilter. It would be easier by the second one.

It was not. Not by the third either, still swimming in the heady arousal that wafts from Dieter’s commanding presence. The director complimented how you clutched at his shoulders when he squeezed your thighs, which you tried to pass off as purposeful rather than hanging on for dear life. You were doomed, you’d bitten off more than you could chew and you were going to mess up this role and had no idea how to stop it.

Three more scenes to go.

You take a lap as they reposition the cameras, flip-flops slapping against the concrete floors of the soundstage as you debate if you have enough time to rub one out before going back, just to take the edge off.

“Actors back on set!”

Dammit.

Scene 18 has you riding Dieter, his hands guiding you until he bares his teeth (your signal to move with him) and rolls you on your back to pound you into the mattress. The lingerie is gone now, the cool air of the soundstage caressing over curves of your body that most people rarely see. Dieter averts his eyes when you disrobe, and carefully arranges himself below you. You’re feeling more centered, straddling Dieter with a little less fire burning between your legs, but your troubles take a sharp turn.

“Lean forward a little more, you’re half out of the shot.”

“A little faster.”

“Put your hand on his stomach about ten seconds in.”

“Never mind, back to how we had it before.”

“No, we said no hand, remember?”

“Do you need a break?”

Your body shakes after take 6, half from the exhaustion of lifting up on your knees over and over, your toes starting to go numb, and half with anxiety over forgetting another cue, or missing another note. The smile you keep shooting the director is getting strained, and mortifying tears start to prick your eyes. Dieter is watching your face closely, and with a pointed look at Ramona she calls a brief break. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, guiding you off his lap to sit on the edge of the bed. You cross your arms over your chest, and he reaches over to give you your robe. Draping his own over his lap, he strokes that soothing pattern of circles over your back as you shake your head.

“Sorry, it felt so easy in rehearsal, I’m having like, a weird lockup right now,” you stammer out.

“It’s okay,” he says, “I know what it is.” You look up at him with more desperation in your eyes than you mean. He nods sympathetically.

“It’s the cock sock, isn’t it?” 

He delivers the line completely deadpan. The shock of the phrase, plus the serious set of his brow, makes hysterical laughter burst from your lips. You bury your face in your hands and shake as Dieter’s deep chuckles tickle into your ear.

“That’s better, just need to get a little of that tension out,” he soothes, meeting your eyes with a charming smile. If only this could be a real moment, not something looked on by several men and women drinking coffees. Dieter seems like the kind of partner who would always make you comfortable, and seen, and absolutely satisfied.

That last thought tingles the baby hairs on the back of your neck as you move back into position. Straddling Dieter once again, the ridiculous genital covering out of sight, he grips your shoulders.

“Okay, let’s get back into character here, yeah? Remember your motivation?”

You nod. Not that the scene really needed a deep backstory, but you’d decided you were blowing off steam after a rough few days at work and an ex texting you to get back together. Dieter was mysterious, exciting, so different from your past boyfriends, and when he met your eyes across the room all you wanted was for him to wash the bad taste of their memories out. 

“Got it? Good. Here’s mine,” he says, leaning up while the last few preparations finish around you. Lips to your ear, he whispers only for you. 

“Another dead end, another long day, and I want something to distract me. I’ve got my eye on my usual type, but then I see you. You stand out in the crowd, bold, confident. You hold my stare, challenge me. I thought I wanted something easy, something mindless, but looking at you, I changed my mind. I wanted something with substance, someone to give as good as she gets, and I know you’ll give me even better. My cock got hard just looking at you, you’re fucking perfect. And then when you let me buy you a drink and you criticized my whiskey choice, I wanted to bend you over the bar right there. So I’m taking you home to bury my troubles, but you can surprise me as many more times as you like. I like to be surprised. I want you to take me as much as I’m taking you.”

Dieter lies back with a hell of a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

“Action!”

Your body moves with an ease that had been eluding you, liquid rolls as you take your time riding him. His hands come up to your hips, urging you faster, and instead you grind down on him, pressing your hands into his chest and pinning him into the bed. You’re not supposed to be fighting him, but it feels so right to arch and rock harder into him. His bare legs flex against your ass, meeting your hips with his thrusts. You can imagine how good he’d feel if you weren’t faking this, how his powerful thrusts would hit your g-spot. His hand cups the back of your neck, teeth bared in warning as he rolls you onto your back. 

“You’re so sexy,” he growls in your ear, hooking your legs around his waist and smacking his hips into yours. The impact is softer than it looks, aided by your moans and writhing beneath him. He goes for a handful more thrusts before “Cut!” is shouted again.

“There we go! I like the improv, can we do just one more for coverage?” Ramona says, giving you an approving smile when you immediately get into position. 

“I could go all night,” Dieter shoots back, earning an eye roll from half the crew and a dry mouth from you when he flicks his gaze back and winks. 

The second take flows even better, your bodies finally speaking to each other. Dieter palms your ass, you slow your hips. He urges you to go faster, you grind down on him. He grits his teeth as you push his chest, nails just about to bite into the supple flesh. His eyes capture yours over and over, and the hunger inside them is some damn good acting. 

The cues, the flip, and you’re on your back again, but this time Dieter drops his head to cover your breast with his hot mouth. You arch, a strangled gasp as you wait for his tongue, his teeth, but he works his jaw against the flesh and nothing more.

Fuck, you want something more.

When he pops his mouth off he resumes the script, thrusting frantically into you but with more force this time, even an edge of desperation. You meet his energy, throwing your head back and letting him yank you against him over and over. The slap, the friction, this gorgeous man before you all makes slick weep from your untouched cunt, clit aching for the act you’re simulating.

“Cut! Excellent, really good work guys, you’re hitting your groove here. Let’s move on to 19.”

Dieter stays above you for a few seconds more, your chests heaving. The lust bleeds away to a soft smile as he pats your side.

“Good work, you take direction really well.”

You bite your tongue to stop yourself from saying, “Just from you.”

You take one more walk around the soundstage to try and calm your rebellious body, but the moment you see Dieter again, kneeling in the bed with the blankets bunched in front of his hips, it’s all dashed away. Even his respectful touches as he guides you to your stomach, checking in if you’re comfortable, all burn across your skin. You just need to get through this scene.

“Action!”

This is indeed the finale. Dieter would finish above you, pounding into you from behind. You were supposed to lie there and take it, let him cuss and choke into the back of your shoulder before his breathing slows and you cut to the next morning. You could do that. You totally could. Most men you’ve been with hump you into the bed like this and it does very little for you. This would be fine.

The moment Dieter starts rutting against your ass you know you’re done for. You’re too worked up, and the position lightly teases your nipples. A wrinkle of blanket rubs against your mound just enough to relieve your clit, and while you know you should stop you can’t help but grind into the bed just enough to light up your nerves. Dieter hovers above you, thick forearms planted by your shoulders as he hisses and grunts his way to a fake climax. You press back against him, giving your own satisfied smile as he drops his forehead between your shoulders and rolls his hips again. 

“Not bad, can we go one more time?”

Shit. You’d hoped that would be enough, arousal rising dangerously between your thighs. Rearranging the sheets to deny you pleasure, you catch Dieter slumping to one side and watching you. It’s intense, being in his stare, but also warming and protective. When you lie back on your stomach and give him a nod that you’re ready, he leans down and whispers in your ear.

“If you want it, you can have it. I won’t tell anyone. You take it when it comes.”

You barely get a moment of shock before the cameras are rolling and the scene begins again. Did Dieter just…insinuate that he’d cover for you if you came? The thought makes wetness gush between your thighs, now lacking the friction you were relishing in earlier. The need aching in your cunt makes you roll your hips back against Dieter, a strained “fuck” spitting through his teeth. He grabs your hips and guides you against his narrow ones, not quite hitting where you want but the snap and slap of him against you still works you up more than it should. You cry out, bury your face in the pillow, fist the blankets as he chases his release. The practiced groan signals the end, this time his cheek pressing against your back and a kiss dotting your spine. 

Thank God. You were finally in the clear.

“I think we need one more, guys. I want a little more…intimacy this time. You both okay with that?”

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

“I don’t…” you started to protest until Dieter’s hand finds its way to the back of your neck.

“I think you can do it. I know you can. One more time?” he asks, but in his eyes is a promise that makes you nod, even against your better judgment.

This time I’ll make you cum.

Dieter changes tactics when the cameras roll. He starts off fast, yanking you back against him. Sitting up on his heels he arches you off the bed with his expansive hands. His thighs cage you in, squeezing tight. Something thick and soft slides against your ass, and you realize Dieter is hard behind you, cock still wrapped up but the weight of it against you obvious. You want him between your legs, fat head sliding over your clit, but you let him adjust you to exactly where he wants. 

With Dieter’s guidance you rock and writhe against him, drips of praise reaching your ears. With a deeply groaned, “Fuck, baby,” he folds over you, stomach pressing into your back. His fingers lace with your own, hugging you to his chest as he pumps his hips in long strokes. His cock nudges your lower back, little gasps keening out. He noses your cheek and guides you to turn your face to the camera. 

“This okay?” he mouths into your ear and you let out a, “Yes, please,” loud enough to mean anything for the camera. You slide a hand into his hair, gripping the thick curls to a stuttered sigh of pleasure. The pressure and motion finally gives you the stimulation you need, and it’s barely any time before your orgasm barrels to the forefront. You tighten your grip on Dieter’s large hand and school your face just enough to not look like you’re cumming through the hottest scene you will ever act in.

“That’s it, take it, take it baby, you’re doing so well, fucking god, look at you,” Dieter groans into your ear. He presses you deeper into the mattress, muting the uncontrollable bucking of your hips for the camera. Teeth scrape along your jaw in tender nips as he stutters to his fake finish, a guttural groan and relaxing of his body signaling the end of the scene. But Dieter lifts up on one elbow and pinches your chin between two fingers, turning your face to his. He looks at you like a mystery to be solved, like a gift, and then kisses you, slow and indulgent.

“Cut! Excellent, loved the ad libbing Dee, but you gotta stop saying fuck, we’ll have to cut that out,” the director says. Dieter laughs against your back, and the warmth of his skin makes you want to melt into the bed and never leave. 

“You doing okay?” he asks, lifting up off you and tugging both your bathrobes over to give you some modesty. He fists his own over his swollen erection, a little pink high in his cheeks and sweat along his hairline.

“Yeah, perfect, absolutely,” you say lightly, legs wobbling when you try to stand up. His eyes drag over you, a prideful smile playing on his lips as you try to cover up your dazed affect. “One more scene?” you say brightly.

“Yeah,” he says, distracted. “One more scene.”

The final shot of your day is the following morning, soft yellow light traded for the cool blue of daylight streaming in. You’re facing away from the camera, Dieter waking and looking over at your naked shoulder. He sits up and strokes along the curve of your waist, making you sigh in your sleep. He watches you with a mix of regret and resolution, kisses your shoulder, and gets out of bed.

The scene is done in one take. You wish it took all day.

The end of the shoot is quiet, taking off makeup and getting back into your public clothes. You strain to hear someone coming to your dressing room, a certain wild-haired brown-eyed man giving you a sendoff. A kind word, a piece of advice, you’d take anything. But he doesn’t come, and you leave the soundstage with your check and thanks and promises of references. 

The drive back to your apartment is quiet, music even feeling too loud for the moment. Weaving through LA traffic, the moments of your day slip through your mind like silk ribbons.

You suppose this is what meeting your heroes is like. A moment in the sunlight of their presence, then back to the real world of auditions and day jobs and hoping your parents never see this particular part of your portfolio. The dishes need washing, calls need to be made, and you have to go on with your life. It was an excellent experience, albeit a slightly inappropriate one. But if that’s the worst you got up to with Dieter then it was fairly tame.

The fleeting thought of what you’d actually hoped you’d get up to with Dieter comes and leaves without incident. 

By the time you get home you’re planning what casting call you’d go to tomorrow, making your grocery list, and considering if you can get away without doing laundry tonight. Which is why you walk past the bouquet of flowers in the atrium without checking who it’s for. Waiting for the elevator, however, curiosity gets the better of you and you peek at the card.

Your name. It’s your name on the perfectly imperfect bouquet of garden roses and eucalyptus. You’re opening the card as your cell phone vibrates in your pocket. Fishing it out, you greet the Midnight Alley casting agent on the other end.

“Are you open to a semi-recurring role?” 

“W-what?”

“Yeah, the director and AD were really impressed with your chemistry with Bravo. They’ve been trying to write him a love interest in the show, but he’s turned down all the potential actresses and guest stars. No chemistry, bad chemistry, whatever, but the point is he asked for them to consider you.”

Your hands shake, the clean white card pinched between your fingers.

I think we can do better together than that. Dinner?

-DB

“What do you think?”

Your heart flutters as you set it free.

“When can I start?”

END

[wildemaven]

Sweet Creature: Chapter Nine

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

WC: 8k

Warnings: 18+ Blog; Fluff, a kiss of angst, talk of past relationship and break up, pregnancy scare, mopey Poppy, nervousness and anxiety, brief mentions of sobriety, smut, self doubt, public speaking, reader has the nickname Poppy- zero physical description, to dumb dumbs in love

A/N: This is a doozy of a chapter, there was so much to pack in for these two. I can’t believe we’re nearing the end, I had definite moments of sadness as I was wrapping up this chapter but also found so inspiration to help tie up the story for these two! You can listen to Dieter & Poppy’s Playlist Here. Also a big thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for constantly listening and helping me through this one, I definitely needed it on this chapter.

Series Masterlist / Playlist / Main Masterlist

Previous/ Epilogue

It had taken a few months for Dieter to tangle himself into your life. 

Inching his way into your mind, settling deep within your bones and eventually finding shelter in the most sacred of places— your heart. 

It took only a matter of a few short days for him to imprint himself into your home, pieces of him lingering in your space, even long after he had left. 

But you can’t seem to pull yourself from the confines of your bed, each morning since his departure, you study the hollowed out spot where his worn body claimed as his, still having yet to find the energy to make it or wash the sheets clean of the hours of intensity and conversations ingrained into the plush pillow-top. 

Your fingers run over the creases of the pillow, remembering how you would trace the same lines etched across his face in the early mornings, the usual scrunch between his brows smooth and relaxed, the faintest of snores escaping his parted lips— memorizing his angelic dreamy state. 

A soft thread catches the path your finger continues to take. A silky strand of hair, no longer a part of him, now woven in through the fibers of your cotton pillowcase— proof he was here and existed in this space with you, with those unruly thick curls tousled with ardency, sweat and sleep— your fingers still managing to work through the wildness. 

*

-Saturday Morning-

“What was your last serious relationship like?” Dieter asks, laying on his side with an arm bent, head propped on his hand, your bed sheet draped over his naked lower half. 

His free hand mapping out the plains of your exposed skin, the morning sun filters through your bedroom window, providing a soft muted light as his fingers continue to unearth new details of your body he has yet to see in daylight. 

“Oof! Hitting me with the serious stuff first thing in the morning.” The rasp of sleep still coating your throat, your body turned in close towards him with one arm tucked between your pillow and resting head, your free hand mesmerized by the texture of his skin— connecting invisible lines between each freckle painted across his neck and chest. 

“Question for a question then. But you don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to.” 

“No, it’s fine. It’s— just a lot for some people to hear. Kind of just keep it to myself, less questions and ‘how come’ once they find out.” 

“Hey, I won’t judge you, for anything you tell me— ever.”

Dieter watches the way your eyes flit about for a few seconds, his hand stopping to rest on your naked hip with a gentle squeeze, a reassuring gesture of sincerity in his words. 

“Frankie was my high school sweetheart, we started dating our senior year. We were together— gosh…. 5, almost 6 years.” You let out a sigh, all the memories of your previous relationship flooding back to you, having been locked away for so long. 

“After high school, when we realized things were getting serious, we decided to figure out what we wanted moving forward. We were on the same page with everything for the most part, no real deal breakers. We would get married after college, buy a house— a seemingly cookie cutter life together.”

“I’m not following— sounds like the perfect life to me.” Confusion settles across his forehead, brows drawn together as he studies your face. 

“Except, I couldn’t give him the one thing he wanted— kids.” You notice the way his face drops when you say it, knowing his first thought is exactly what everyone else usually assumes when you tell them.

“I guess I should rephrase that— I didn’t want, don’t want kids. It was something we established too, both on board with living a childless life. We agreed we would be the best Aunt and Uncle for our friend’s kids.”

Dieter nods at your admission, the hand on your hip starting to leave feather-like strokes the length of your side, goosebumps scattering across your warm skin. 

“It wasn’t until we were well into our relationship that things changed. We had a bit of a pregnancy scare, we were both very careful too, so it was a bit of a shock when it happened. I was angry with myself— how could I let it happen? What did I do wrong? All the things running through my head the minute I saw those pink lines, wondering how we were going to afford a baby on our combined income, all while trying to get through finishing college— I spiraled pretty hard for a good week. But, through some routine testing, we discovered it was a false-positive— I was so fucking relieved!” 

Your fingers still over the hollow of his neck, taking a deep breath, not really sure how Dieter is taking everything you’re saying. 

“In the midst of my inner turmoil over the thought of being pregnant, I hadn’t really checked in with Frankie to see where his head was at, I had just assumed he was riding the same boat as me.”

“He changed his mind?” He asks. 

“Yeah— or it was what he had always wanted, he just didn’t realize it until that week, when it was almost a possibility.”

“So you broke up?”

“We stayed together for another year afterwards, thinking we could work through it. But I couldn’t keep that from him, it would have eaten me alive being the reason he wasn’t 100% happy. We decided it was best if we split.” You can’t help the smile that starts to develop, Dieter’s receptive demeanor made this whole moment feel a little less heavier than you thought it would be. 

“I ended up running into Frankie a few years ago. We caught up and I learned he ended up joining the army, Special Forces I think, met his wife while saving her from some bar creep, always the chivalrous one—�� and they have two little girls. I like to think we both ended up where we were supposed to be.”

There’s a prick of something that ricochets across his chest— the pairing of unaltered reverence and adoration. You just want the best for others, and it shows even in how not that long ago how you went to battle for Diem out of pure love, wanting the best for her and Wren— he respects you so much now looking back on it. 

Dieter leans over and places a few soft kisses to your lips, the last one lingering a little longer before pulling away to rest his forehead on yours. 

“Thank you, for sharing that with me.” He murmurs against your lips. 

“Of course. My question now— What about you? Do you want kids?” You ask. 

Dieter gently pushes you to your back, settling himself between your legs, peering down at you with a soft smile.

“I’ll only ever be Uncle Dude— never had the desire to be a dad.” 

His head dips down to your still bare chest, the few kitten-like licks before he takes your nipple into his mouth, scorching and persistent, causing your back to arch up into him, eyes fluttering closed and mouth wide as you emit a breathless whine. 

A few intense sucking motions before he gives your breast an experimental bite, his eyes observing the way your body writhes at the juxtaposition of sensations before releasing it with a pop, blowing a stream of cold air across your wet skin and watching the way your nipple instantly tightens. 

He crawls up your body, one arm resting next to your head as the other snakes down between your bodies taking hold of his now hardened cock, a few quick strokes before he’s notching the head at your now dripping entrance. 

“Doesn’t mean I don’t like partaking in the act.” His words punctuated by him fully sheathing himself into your cunt.

“Oh fuck! Dieter—“ Your laugh quickly exchanged for a heady moan. 

Your bodies meld together in a heated indulgence. The slippery grip of dewy skin as your bodies work in a synergistic fashion, calculated snapping of hips take you both to a climactic level of bliss. 

*

BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ

The vibration of your phone against your nightstand draws you back from the reliving of your weekend with Dieter, interrupting the playlist streaming through the phone speaker. 

You grab your phone to check who the message is from…

Mom ❤️: Hey Sweetheart! Let me know when you’re heading over. Going to sit by the pool for a bit until then. This place is beautiful, I might not ever leave! Talk to you soon!

The music promptly picks back up again with its uptempo beat, you connect your phone to your speakers in the living room, the words floating brightly in the background as you will yourself out of bed. 

In route to a much needed cup of coffee, you pull on the fuzzy warm jacket that seems to have established itself as an essential element in your daily life, dropping your phone in its cavernous pocket before bringing the fleecy fabric to your face for a brief moment. It’s a cognitive experience, the inhalation of the still drenched in his signature Dieter-musk, making your insides gooey and flustered. 

‘Ooh, I lose control, can't seem to get enough, uh-huh

When I wake from dreaming, tell me is it really love?’

You chuckle into your cup as you take that first sip, the words a flawless depiction, and complete coincidence of every morning this week. 

A quick text back to your mom to fill her in on the day’s plans. 

Poppy: Hi Mom! Had a bit of a slow morning, but I’m up and moving now! Going to shower and get ready. I thought we could go to this new sandwich shop that just opened. I've been wanting to try it. I’ll text you when I’m on my way to the hotel. Love you

Your mom had gotten in late last night, still having not seen her yet. Diem was so kind to put her up in the Capri for the weekend, your mom insisting she didn’t want to intrude and give you space. 

It was her first time visiting since you had moved, but not her first time to Ojai. She had visited on numerous occasions in her travels before having you, it was usually a brief stop for a few hours to grab a quick bite and then off to her next stop. 

As a child, you would spend hours browsing through her endless collection of photo albums, dreaming up your own stories about visiting her favorite places— grainy Kodak Portra 160 was her film of choice, the color grading and light leaks adding to the cinematized scenes. There was something alluring about Ojai, always spending a little extra time with those images, it had become your ‘one day I am going to move there’ place. So, when you had started actually considering moving, your mind instantly went to Ojai— it was a no-brainer this was the place you were meant to set your roots in. 

A slow sip of the ambered liquid trickles down your throat, its atomic structure hitting every nerve as it slowly expands in your veins, giving you the ample amount of energy to keep you from crawling right back in bed. 

A thrumming piano tune dances across the room, instantaneously reliving the moment you coerced Dieter to add it to your growing playlist, selfishly you hope the familiar high falsetto voice evokes the same memory for Dieter as it does for you when he shuffles through the songs. 

Just a small town girl

Livin' in a lonely world

She took the midnight train going anywhere

Just a city boy

Born and raised in South Detroit

He took the midnight train going anywhere

*

-Sunday Afternoon-

“Add. The. Song. Dieter!” A purely joking dramatic version of yourself pleads with him, you sense the song isn’t a front-runner for Dieter, but you’re enjoying the banter it’s causing. 

The popular chorus continues roaring through the living room where you’ve both been camped out for the last hour, switching off listening to music on bith your record player and Dieter’s Spotify account.

It felt silly when you suggested you both should create a compilation of songs that you could listen to and think of the other person— complete cheeseball move. It was reminiscent of junior high when you would download songs off shady sites and then burn the perfect cd mix for your crush, labeling it— I really like you but I’m not good with words, so here’s some songs instead— the cover art hand drawn sharpie doodles and emo quotes that could bring a 15 year old girl in love to tears. Being it was modern times, Dieter opted for a playlist of top favorite songs between the two of you, dubbing it ‘Dieter’s & Poppy’s Mix Tape.’

He wants to engrain this scene in his mind forever, your naked form cloaked in his beloved brown jacket, dancing around your living room, belting the lyrics in the most out of tune way. 

“Streetlights, people!— Dieter, please! You said our favorite songs— this would be a favorite of mine! Add the damn song!!” 

“This— This is your favorite song? It’s like the most overplayed karaoke song in the history of music” His cocked eyebrow as he holds his phone with the Spotify app open in his lap, finding it hard to hold off his growing smirk and not surprised in the least that it’s a top pick for you. 

“I’ll have you know, I am the reigning Karaoke Queen, west of the Mississippi River— you're in the presence of royalty, Babe. Don't stop believin' Hold on to that feelin'!” Grabbing another slice of cold pizza from the half eaten box on the coffee table, you continue twirling about on your tippy toes, maintaining your off-key singing between bites. 

“Something tells me your full of shit. Fine— It’s added. But I’m adding ‘You Need to Calm Down’ for tax.”

“I need to do what?” Your twirling ceases, the bottom of his jacket swaying about as you watch the way he stares down at his phone, fingers pecking at the screen. 

“No— it’s a song. According to Wren, “it’s a Taylor Swift masterpiece!’” His air quotes and deadpan expression almost take you out. 

“Never would have pegged you as a Swiftie, but I love it.”

“Well, it’s all she wants to listen to on the drive to school. I can’t help it if i know every word to almost every song.”

The next song plays through, Dieter continues to watch you from his spot on the couch, loving the carefree manner in which you move, your infectious smile on display as you sing along to a song you definitely do not know a single word to, eyes closed and arms stretched out letting the chorus fully envelop your mind— this whole moment solidifying his love for you. 

He brings his phone up and snaps a few pictures, each image progressively blurrier as he tries to capture you dancing, his last attempt is more or less successful, the timing just right and the result an accurate depiction of how he wants look back on this time together— a flash of your beaming smile that causes your eyes to crinkle at the edges and your audacious desire to be completely yourself in front of him is a picture worth taking. 

“Are you taking a picture of me?” Breathless and smiling. 

“Guilty. I need something to remember this day while I’m away.”

“Okay, but take a better one then.” 

Grabbing his sunglasses off the table to situate them on your face, your bare leg crossed over and kicked out to the side in an ameture Radio City Rockette fashion, middle fingers erect while your hands cover your now exposed breasts, a one-sided nose scrunch and curled lip with some semblance of a smile, all while the remaining slice of your pizza dangles from your mouth. 

“Beautiful, just like the other ones.” His chest vibrates at the sight of you, he pats his thighs motioning for you to come over to where he’s seated. “Alright Karaoke Queen, get your sexy little Believin’ ass over here!” 

Tossing your crust back into the pizza box, you skip-hop over to him, your knees sinking into the cushions of the couch as you straddle his boxer clad lap. His hands sliding under where his Jacket is splayed open, his warm touch glides over your thighs. 

“Let me see— the others, please.” You ask timidly, not sure what ‘others’ entails, pulling his sunglasses off and tossing them to the side. 

His thumb swipes and presses across his phone screen, then hands you an open folder of images, tiny intimate squares fill the screen. You click on the most recent ones of you here in your home, laughing at how ridiculous you think you look, glancing up to see Dieter’s head tilted to the side and his gaze fixed on you. Refocusing on his phone, you start swiping, so many images of times you had spent together, except you're the main focus of each photo, very much unaware of your photo being taken. 

There was the afternoon spent baking cupcakes for no reason other than they sounded delicious. Flour covering the surface of the counter, while you and Wren laugh at something completely unrelated to the making of said cupcakes— equal amounts of flour coating both your hands and faces. 

There’s the backyard dinner Diem had invited you over for. You were seated across from where Dieter and Diem were sitting, listening intently to something she was saying. The sun warm against your back as it had started its descent, your elbow propped on the table and chin resting on your hand, your attention focused on every aspect of the conversation. 

The first evening Dieter and Wren had attended your art class together, a few of you talking about something art related and then a couple of you actually painting and drawing— your face naturally lighting up at you sharing art with others. 

Each swipe revealed another image, so many of you smiling while looking off at whatever had your attention, full body laughs shared with someone out of frame, deep in thought or absorbed into something you were reading or looking at on your phone. 

Seeing your life candidly curated in a digital collection of photos has so many emotions whirling through your mind, love being the most prominent one. 

Your breath hitches when you scroll to the last image in the folder.

You're at the front of your classroom, a stack of papers tucked against your chest as your smile beams out to your class. You note your outfit isn’t your usual uniform, you're wearing your favorite band tee, jeans and sneakers— it’s the morning you were late and Dieter stepped in to help you out, bringing a sense of ease to your disarray of a morning. 

“I think that was one of the moments I knew.” Dieter’s smoky voice cuts into the air, pointing at the image you’ve been studying a little longer than the others.

“Knew what?” Looking up from the phone to see his chestnut eyes twinkling with adoration, his hands gently rubbing against your hips. 

“Knew that I needed you in my life, however that was.” 

“There were others?”

“Your art class was another.”

There’s a beat of silence between you, the start of the next song picking up its pace. 

“Do you ever imagine what it would be like if we would have met each other sooner than we did?” Something you’ve thought about at times, wishing you had more time with him, maybe if you had met sooner. Your fingers trace along the ridge of his collarbone as you wait for his answer. 

“No— you would have definitely deserved better than who I was back then. You would have hated the thought of being in the same room as me.” 

He wouldn’t have been anything close to who he is now, grateful you were never fully subjected to the asshole he used to be. 

Your hand settles on his bare chest, right where his heart is beating fiercely.

“I deserve you now though. And I definitely want to be in every room you walk into.” 

‘Tears stream down your face

I promise you I will learn from my mistakes

Tears stream down your face, and I

Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones And I will try to fix you’

Your lips meet his in an unhurried embrace, Dieter pulling your lower body closer to his, his fingers digging into the meat of your backside when your hips start to gradually begin to grind against him, his cock hardening with each brush of your wet cunt. 

His hands create their own intimate paths over your body, one traveling up the length of your spine, the other moving to the underside of your breast, cupping the supple weight of it in his palm. A swipe of his thumb over your sensitive nipple has you gasping into his mouth, the catalyst for your silent plea for more— and he hears it loud and clear. 

His hands. His mouth. His cock— all working in perfect, articulate motions. Until you’re succumbing to the culmination of purposeful exertion and precise execution. 

The last 48 hours were spent with Dieter's departure looming in the background of your minds, not allowing yourselves to stew on the impending heartache that was to come the moment you said your goodbyes. 

Between the hours of relaxed conversations and alleviating desirous needs, you both managed to get through the weekend with a strong sense of optimism about the future. A shared commitment to each other, with endless promises of check-ins whenever possible and working out a plan to see each other once Dieter had his schedule set, it was enough to keep the sadness at bay— it gave you something to look forward to. 

The afternoon slowly began to bleed into your final evening together, tangled limbs and intimate memories treated with exactness, fueling hushed whispers of ‘I love yous’ embedding themselves into every single part of your soul. 

*

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK 

You hadn’t been expecting anyone, the rapid knock on your front door was a complete surprise. 

After confirming your name with the sweet delivery lady, she hands off the beautiful dried floral arrangement, mentioning a card was tucked into the center, wishing you a great rest of your day before driving away. 

You had never seen anything like it before, an incredible assortment of dried flowers, stems and oversized leaves arranged meticulously in a ceramic vase. 

Placing the flowers on the kitchen counter, you pull the small card from it, reading the small written note:

Poppy, I’m so proud of you! You’re so talented and I can’t wait to hear how tonight goes. Love you, Dieter

You smile at his thoughtfulness, missing him so much and needing to hear his voice desperately. 

Pulling your phone from the coat pocket, you dial his number and hope there’s a chance you catch him at a good time. 

“Hello.” There’s warmth in the way his voice cracks through the phone. 

“Hi. I just got the flowers— they’re absolutely beautiful, Dieter. Thank you!” 

“I can’t take full credit. Nessa, my assistant, said you might like them, something about them lasting forever. Anyways, she set up the order while I was in a meeting.” 

“Well, I’ll have to thank her at some point then.” There’s some static carrying through the line as you continue your conversation.

“How are you feeling about today?” 

“Good. Just finally pulled myself out of bed. Going to get dressed, then have lunch with my mom before I get ready for tonight. I miss you, Dieter.” 

There’s a brief moment where it sounds like the call cuts out, looking at the screen you see it’s still counting up the call minutes, still connected. 

“I— you too. ‘Ant wait— it goes….”

“Dieter?…Hello? Babe, your phone keeps cutting out.”

*Call Dropped* 

The connection was lost, conversation cut short, staring at a now black phone screen. 

Poppy💐: Your service must be shitty or something, couldn’t hear most of what you were saying. Call me when you can. Love you 💜

You attach a photo of the flowers along with your message. Knowing if he was in a bad service area, you wouldn’t be getting an immediate response, so you take that as your cue to get yourself ready. 

Poppy: Getting dressed! Should be leaving here in 20 minutes. See you in a bit mom! 😘 

*

Your mom’s presence was exactly what you needed today. Seeing her sitting across from you now makes you feel less overwhelmed by the fact that your boyfriend isn’t here and you’re hours away from sharing this passion project of yours, something so intimate and personal, with a room full of art loving strangers.

But even in her presence, you still find your mind wandering— Dieter being the central character of your deviating thoughts— even things outside your home, the smallest of details, reminding you of him in some way. 

Bart’s across the street, a favorite spot for both of you, especially after the talk you both shared coming to an understanding and moving forward together with a new perspective on each other.

Someone walking by, where your mom and you are sitting together on the restaurant patio, was carrying a merchant bag from a store you had bought Dieter’s birthday present. There was a gold colored velvet button up shirt cover in a large geometric print that you had seen while out shopping with Diem one weekend, she had made the offhand comment that it was totally something Dieter would wear and when you had found out a few days later that Dieter’s birthday was the following weekend, you immediately went back to buy it for him. 

You had also thrown in a pair of tiny Frozen charms, Elsa for Wren and Olaf for Dieter, for the Crocs you had seen him wear around Diem’s house on movie nights, in the chance he hated the shirt you knew he was a sucker for kitschy gifts— by the way he wears the shirt regularly, it’s fair to assume he likes it. 

You even think of him in the most laughable ways too, like when a car similar to his drives by the restaurant, you of course immediately think of him— you find yourself to be a lost cause at this point. 

“I’m so sorry, Sweetheart, I’m sure Dieter would love to be here if he could. Aside from him leaving, how was the rest of the week after he left?” 

“Hmm?” 

“I asked how’s your week been? We haven’t talked much since last week.” 

“Oh my gosh, Mom! I’m so sorry— I’m literally the worst person to be around right now, I’m sure. I’ve been so in my head lately, I can’t even think straight.” You cover your face as you apologize for being lackluster company to her, realizing you’ve spent most of lunch off in La-La-Land. 

“My week was good though. With summer break starting last week, I spent most of this wrapping up last minute grading and finishing up paperwork. Monday and Tuesday I went to clean up my classroom, just mainly clearing out old projects and lesson plans from the past year. Which then left me the rest of the week to get my canvases prepared and hung up over at Reverie, where the art opening is tonight.”

“Sounds like it’s kept your mind off of Dieter not being able to be there tonight.” She gives you a sympathetic look, and it makes you feel so appreciative that she flew out to be here for you. 

“If I’m being honest, it really hasn’t. I just selfishly keep wishing he didn’t have leave so I could have more time with him. And then I hate myself for even thinking that, because I’m so happy and proud of him— he deserves this, I just miss him so much. We’ve tried to talk and FaceTime when we can, but his schedule right now has been busy, so I just sit and wait for him to call most evenings. God, I sound ridiculous!” A slight crack to your voice as you’re overcome with emotion, it’s sadness and happiness all wrapped up in a perfect little box sitting in your chest, lifting your chin up as you fight back the tears that threaten to break. 

“Oh, honey.” She passes you a few clean napkins, noticing the few tears that managed to escape. “Maybe give him a call in a bit, I’m sure hearing his voice will help you feel better.”

“Yeah, I’ll give him a call when I get home. Thanks mom. I’m so glad you’re here! Let’s talk about something else, bring the mood back up. How’s retirement going?” Changing the subject to hopefully suppress your mopey demeanor, dabbing your wet cheeks lightly. 

“Oh, it’s great! I’ve actually been thinking about doing some traveling now that I have all this time.” 

“I love that for you mom. You should go, see the world— you deserve it.” 

She shared about the places she had already started planning to visit— in and around Canada, parts of Europe, then several areas of South America. You greedily wished she didn’t want to go, feeling a steady wave of emotions rock through you at the thought of her being gone for so long. But, you know how much traveling means to her, it’s pure joy watching the way she can’t stop smiling as she shows you landmark places she’ll be visiting— a true testament to chase after the things you love. 

*

Doubt. 

Fear. 

Trepidation. 

A war of anxieties. Ruthless, belligerent intruders, battling for control and power. Your mind slowly forfeits, white flag in waiting, ready to surrender yourself to the helm of your own enemies. 

Even with the excitement surrounding tonight, you hadn’t really mastered the art of calming intrusive thoughts and apprehension once they began to build their way into your consciousness.

There’s the brief moment where you consider getting back into your car and driving home— rid yourself of the stress and anxiety that is overcoming you at the thought of being the center of attention tonight— albeit your art the main focus, but with that will come talking about yourself and it has you ready to bail. 

But, you had put so much time and effort into this collection, executing and curating an intimate journey of discovery in the form of detailed lines and brush strokes that make up a whole series of paintings you are incredibly proud of. 

Breathe. 

In. 

Out. 

Dieter comes to mind, the words he shared with you before he left: 

“You were made for this, it’s who you are and it’s what you know— don’t let you be the reason you stop chasing what you deserve. I believe in everything you do, you should too.” 

His words wash over you, each one forging a path for you to conquer your reluctance to seek out something that you have always dreamed of doing. 

You pull out your phone to shoot Dieter a quick text before heading into the gallery. 

Poppy💐: Hi! I miss you and wish you were here ❤. Hope you had a great day. I’ll have Diem take pictures to send you later. Call me when you can. Love you xo

Remembering back to when  Dieter had shared something he does when his anxiety starts to surface, deciding to take a minute to borrow his technique to help ground your thoughts. 

You see the vibrant lights from the front windows of Reverie Studio, the way the moon is peeking out from behind the building making its way through the sky, the streak of lights from headlights of passing cars, blurred bodies of people milling around the streets unbothered by you rooted in the center of the sidewalk, the time stamped over an image of you and Dieter as the lock screen on your phone. 

You feel the weight of your phone leaving your hand as you drop it in your purse, the flowy dress that you picked out with Diem a few weeks ago specifically for this evening, a folded piece of paper with notes for the small speech you were going to give, a good luck charm in the form of Dieter’s 1 year chip clutched tightly into your hand. 

You hear the muted chatter of the early birds spilling from the open door of the gallery, the mingling musical instruments in the local park showering concert goers with an original melodic song, an indistinguishable mix of hello’s and goodbye’s wrapped around gossip filled phone conversations. 

You smell the sweet-vanilla-waffle confections of the little ice cream shop that stays open late during the summer, a hint of a smokey musk dusting the air reminding you of the woody spicy that’s so distinctly Dieter. 

You taste the delicate flavors of a savory future, one that has a palatable balance of sweetness and verve— something so delectable that you don’t think you’ll be able to stop reveling in its richness. 

BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ

Your immediate thought is it’s Dieter, pulling out your phone to see it’s instead Diem. 

Diem: Are you going to stand out there all night?? Get your ass in here!

She’s standing in the window with Wren on her hip, both of them waving at you. 

Feeling a somewhat renewed sense of confidence, you wait for a break in the passing cars and jog across the street to join the crowd already forming inside. 

You’re completely taken aback once you’re through the front door, not by the overwhelming number of people who showed up to view your work, but by how the room is filled with a plethora of vases overflowing with poppies. 

The edges of the room, table tops, display pedestals all covered in a sea of pinks, oranges and pale yellow flowers. 

“So glad you could show up!” Diem and Wren wrap you in a joint hug, a warm greeting with a touch of her special sarcasm. 

“Where did all these flowers come from? They weren’t here yesterday when I stopped in to do some final touches.”

“A certain someone might have wanted to surprise you with something special.”

There’s an immediate pang in your chest, his thoughtfulness and his way of showing support by filling the studio space with your favorite flowers, you have to actively fight off the urge to cry tears of happiness. 

You snap a few photos, focusing on the ones that sit below where your canvases are hung on the fabricated display walls. 

You can’t contain the smile plastered across your face, seeing your work being admired by those in attendance, getting a chance to catch up with friends and fellow artists and having your mom close by listening to her talk up your talent with complete strangers— all still while wishing Dieter were here bask in the excitement with you. 

“If I could have everyone’s attention please.” The owners ask, the room’s noise quickly reduced to a curbed level. “We thank everyone for coming to show their support for this wonderful event. We’ll have her share more about it with you and then we’d like to say a few words afterwards.” 

Applause breaches the silence as you’re beckoned to the center of the room, your paper of scribbled notes in one hand and Dieter’s chip in the other, making your way to the front of the mass of people. 

You introduce yourself as you take in all the faces, some familiar and some new, Diem and your mom in a side embrace with Wren to the front of them, each person enthralled and eager to hear you share more about you and the art behind you. 

“Art has always been a part of me, in so many different ways. Growing up I would tear apart my mom’s magazines to make collages of pretty pictures, sorry mom.” Glancing down at your paper as a wave of soft laughter filters around, it elicits a surge of excitement and sureness blooms somewhere deep in your soul, deciding to for-go reading anything you had written and just share from the heart. 

“And then I got my first sketchbook, that thing never left my side. Always with me at school, trips to the grocery store and even on days when my mom worked late, I’d sit in the corner of her classroom and just draw— creating little scenes from memory. I filled the pages rather quickly too, pages were barely hanging on with the amount of wear and tear I had put it through. Before I knew it, I had amassed a collection of sketchbooks and canvases over the years. Art has always been a part of who I am and I think it always will be.”

Everyone seemed so fascinated by everything you’re sharing. Explaining the story behind your collection— starting as a literal dream and slowly becoming a now etched on canvas reality. 

Even the collaborative piece with Dieter is hung among the others, you went the extra step to add his name onto the little artist placard:

Artists: Dieter & Poppy

Title: ‘Sweet Creature’

Medium: Acrylic on Canvas

$: (Not For Sale)

“Thank you all for taking the time out of your busy schedules to be here tonight, I appreciate it so very much, I’ll be around the rest of the evening to chat more or answer any questions. And thank you to Reviere Studio, you’ve become like a second home to me. I’m so grateful that I had the opportunity to share my love for the arts with the many who attended my classes in this very space, but also to be the last art showing truly means so much to me. I will miss you all.”

Another round of applause and cheers fill the open space. You feel like it went pretty well for how nervous you were earlier in the evening, not really sure why you were doubting yourself to begin with. 

The crowd slowly starts to disperse as you start to weave to where Diem, your mom and Wren are standing, getting stopped for hugs and hellos from former class attendees, congratulatory remarks for complete strangers too— you’re even shocked when Betty and Marilyn stop to share their well wishes with you. 

“I’m so proud of you sweetheart, it’s all so amazing!” Your mom wraps you in praises and a tight hug. 

“Thank you mom, I’m so happy you could be here!”

“I’m happy to be here too!” Wren’s excitement is barely containable as she bounces off the floor. 

“I’m so happy you’re here too Wren!” You tell her as you bend down to give her a hug as well. 

Standing back to your full height, you turn to Diem and just wrap your arms around her shoulders and hold her close, she returns the same energy. 

“Thank you so much for everything, you are literally the best friend I could have ever asked for. I love you so much Diem!” 

“God dammit, Poppy! I didn’t wear any waterproof mascara because I wasn’t planning on crying tonight! I love you too!” She pulls away and starts fanning her face, drying up the tears that had started to fill her eyes. 

“Excuse me! We have a quick, exciting announcement to make before the evening continues with drinks and appetizers.” The sweet owner Susi’s voice boomed out to the guests. 

*

Dieter doesn’t like lying, not in general at least and especially not to you— open and honest is how he continues to move forward with his life. 

But this doesn’t feel like a lie, in a sense. A secret. A surprise. 

Taking this role meant sacrificing his time away and that terrified him, especially being his first project to jump back into. 

After a call with his agent on the drive back to LA Monday morning and a check in with his sponsor,  Dieter requested a meeting with the movie’s higher ups. 

That meeting didn’t happen until a few days later, but when he found out filming would be held in and around LA, Dieter learned his request for weekends to travel back to Ojai was successful. 

That gave him less than 24 hours to get flowers ordered to be delivered to the gallery, let Diem in on his plan to ensure everything was in motion, all while you had no idea what was happening. 

Dieter settles in the back of the crowd, tucked out of sight, finding it difficult to keep his eyes off you as you stand up there. 

Watching you share about your life and how art has always been a big part of it, the two of you so similar in many ways makes him feel a deeper connection to you. 

He recognizes the paper you’ve started crumpled into your hand, worn and creased from the repetitive folding and unfolding, scarred by the cross-hatching over abandoned words or shelved sentences, bullet points of importance to add substance to your speech. He likes the version you who was pacing around her living room Sunday morning, paper in one hand and pen in the other, reciting each line with a fluctuating ambivalent tone, stopping intermittently at the coffee table to rework a line or add something he had suggested. But he loves this version of you standing before him right now, no hesitation in your words, speaking with certainty and feeling— you were more than prepared. 

The way you wear your confidence stirs something inside of him— trying his best to keep a low profile, because all he wants to do is scoop you up and kiss you breathless, to tell you over and over, how perfect and amazing he thinks you are.

He notices the light catching something you’re intently smoothing your fingers over, tracing repeatedly over every word— It’s not going to be easy, but it’s going to be worth it— engraved on his 1 year chip, a habit he’s welcomed into his daily routine. You had refused to take it from him when he offered it, not wanting him to be without it longer than necessary, but he had vowed to take it back the moment you were reunited. Placing it in your palm, hinting at the streak of luck it had brought him over the past year, ensuring that it would do the same for you— but he knew you wouldn’t need any.

He wants more of this— more time with you. To feel immersed back into this normal paced life and experience the joys that you feel regularly. 

He has to shuffle himself around a bit when the crowd starts to move about, still trying to not be seen, watching you celebrate post speech with your mom, Diem and Wren— eagerly wanting to do the same. 

The gallery owner’s announcement signals the beginning of something exciting. 

He just hopes you’re as ecstatic about what’s about to be revealed as he is. 

*

Susi takes a moment for everyone to quiet down and focus their attention on her before continuing her speech. 

“Earlier this year, we had made the difficult decision to close our doors— deciding it was time to seek out a new chapter with new adventures and close this chapter on Reverie Studio.”

You’re sandwiched between Diem and your mom, hands intertwined as your head rests on Diem’s shoulder, somber as Susi’s heartfelt words about the studio’s closing. 

“But we have some exciting news to share with you all. The gallery and studio are now under new ownership and will continue to stay open. It will be under a new name, but will still retain what Reverie had previously been known for— classes, art openings, studio space. And while we’re sad to hand it over, we’re excited to see it continue to serve the community.”

The delighted commotion pours out into the streets, catching the attention of passersby’s curiosity. 

“So, we welcome you to the new home of Les Coquelicots Studio. The new owner is somewhere here in the audience too.” Heads begin to turn, seeking out where this mysterious owner is, when Susi points towards the back of the room and waves. “Ah, there he is. Please be sure to make him feel welcome and thank him before you leave. Thank you all again for coming and have a wonderful rest of the night.”

Music begins to brim over the conversations that start to pick up, guests dispersing to fill their small plates with finger foods and refilling of drinks, ambling about observing your artwork and surrounding art pieces. 

But you're too focused on the fact that you had no idea that the space wasn’t closing, as you continue turning about scanning the room for the new owner. 

Everything stills. 

No sound. 

No horde of people. 

Just him. 

Dieter Bravo. 

All Dieter-like too, leaning against the back wall, hands secure in his pockets, the slightest tick of his jaw punctuating his dimple. 

Your brain is actively working to re-hardwire your body to function properly, but you’re motionless. Speechless. 

He’s here, propelling himself forward and making his way to you, even as he stands before you, it doesn’t feel real. 

“Surprise.” His voice nearly takes you out, it hasn’t been that long since you had last spoken, but you’ve missed its gravely tone so much. 

“What are you doing here? I thought— I don’t know what I thought because I can’t think straight at the moment. How are you here?” Dizzy with total surprise and confusion. 

He leans in, laughing at your flustered smile, hands slinking their way to your face, his touch charged with fervor as his thumbs sweep over the apples of your cheeks. 

“Came to see my girl.” He smiles softly, his words a breath away from where you want him most. 

You close the distance between you, his lips fitting perfectly against yours, unbothered by the room full of people around you. You knew you would never get that same feeling or experience like with your first kiss, but this is second best and you welcome it fully. 

Before the kiss has a chance to turn into something more than what is appropriate for the setting, you pull away, resting your forehead on his, breathless and happy. 

“It’s you isn’t it— You bought this place?” The answer is clear as you look into his warm eyes. 

“I did.”

“Les Coquelicots? Monet’s painting?” 

“Poppies.” 

This is it. Your forever. With him. Always. 

“I know how much this place means to you, think of it as a thank you— for giving me a chance, for believing in me.” 

“You didn’t have to buy me an art gallery as a thank you, dinner would have been fine.” Your fingers catching the rampant tears streaming down your cheeks, emitting a breathy laugh. 

“We can go to dinner after this then.” His words mumbled in a kiss against your forehead. 

“You still didn’t answer my question— How are you here? What about your movie?” 

“When I found out we would be shooting locally in LA, I told them I had one request— that I was able to go home every weekend if I wasn’t needed on set.” 

“But your home is already there?”

“I’m selling my home in West Hollywood— my realtor is getting it ready to be listed next week, hopefully moved out by the end of the month. So I can move home.” 

It goes without saying that you know what he means, but you want to hear him say it out loud.

“Do you mean here? You’ll be moving here?” 

He nods his head in response.

“What if this place gets too boring for a big movie star like yourself?” Biting your lip with a hint of a smile. 

“Poppy— wherever I go, you bring me home.” 

The kiss is short, but full of a warmth you crave when he’s in your presence, your arms linking around his neck as he pulls flush against, white knuckle grip on your hips— the two you lost in each other as the work around you carries on. 

“Hmm— so, you’re gonna move in with Diem permanently?” 

“Nah, I’ll find some place eventually.” He winks, no real rush to move in together, but he sees it as an option at some point in the future. 

“Well, if you’re over living with your sister, I have a comfortable couch with your name all over it.” You snort at your offer. 

“Poppy, I’m not sleeping on your fucking couch.”

“Suit yourself then.” You mirror his wink before pulling him in for another string of small pecks. 

“I love you, Dieter.”

“I love you too, Poppy”

Next

[oogaboogasphincter]

would u do a part 2 of after the beep when bunny gets home from work? because it’s very much delicious and i ate it up with a little salt and pepper

Stress Relief | Dieter Bravo x f!reader

🩷 hiii anon! 🥺 i can’t even begin to apologize for how long this took me to get to you, i’m so beyond thankful for your patience <3 i hope i delivered for you! 🫶

After an agitating day, your boyfriend Dieter helps melt all your worries away by delivering on the dirty promises he left in your voicemails earlier that morning.

word count/warnings: 4.9k+ words EXPLICIT 18+ ONLY MDNI! // hurt (reader has a terrible horrible no good very bad day) then comfort, reader and dieter have a verbal argument (in which reader throws a pillow at dieter) but it’s quickly resolved, phone sex mention, dieter threatens to blackmail your boss lol, anal play (f!receiving; fingering, licking), anal sex (f!receiving), masturbation (f), oral (m receiving), recreational drug use (weed, reader and dieter both use but it’s not a factor in their consent), insane amount of pet names (baby, kitty, bunny, sweetheart, sugar, lady, girl) // ao3 link

(this can be read as part 2 to after the beep but it can also be a standalone!)

“Dieter!?”

You shout as you wrench the door open with your rain-slicked hand and kick it closed behind you, leaving a muddy bootprint on the crisp white wood. The roaring thunder fails to drown out your enraged call, but you’re left unanswered nonetheless. The house Dieter is staying at - one of his actor friend’s vacation homes - is darkened by the storm outside and seems to sigh at your anger, upset that you roused it from its storm-induced slumber. But Dieter’s rental car is in the driveway, so you know your boyfriend is here somewhere. You yank your soaked jacket off and don’t bother finding a peg for it, throwing it on the hideous accent chair that probably cost more than your rent. 

Despite the boisterous thunder, the quiet inside swells to an intimidating glower. By now Dieter should’ve come lumbering out of whatever pit of candy wrappers or wrinkled pajamas he plunged himself into, but the air remains undisturbed. You keep your footsteps light as you walk around the unfamiliar house, peeking in and scanning each room for him. 

“Hey, Diets?” you ask another room, devoid of any activity. Your anger has softened now, eaten away by a growing concern of what Dieter could’ve possibly gotten himself into between when you left to go to work this morning and now. You know he was upset that you were leaving, but he always is. Hell, his voice gains a whiney edge when you just want to leave his grizzly embrace for all of thirty seconds to go to the bathroom. He left you those deliciously vile voicemails earlier in the day, detailing exactly what his erotic plans were for you later this evening, but it had been radio silence since then. 

More calls, no answers. Your mind races with options, getting more worrisome as your brain’s overthinking cogs are given more unresolved time to spiral with. Did he go meet up with a friend and forget to text you? Did he get let go of by a project, a studio - god forbid it isn’t his lawyer - and he’s drowning his sorrows with some chosen vice? Did he make one too many wrong friends on one of his many esoteric adventures and they have come back to haunt him? 

You circle back to the living room, taking out your phone to call the friend that owns this house. Maybe Dieter got picked up by them to have drinks and that’s why his rental is still here? You dial the number with a crease in your brow, and as you lift the phone to your ear and it starts to ring, you spot your dastardly lover: dead asleep on the couch, curled into himself. Only his muss of graying curls bobs from the surface of a sea of pillows and blankets with every light snore.

Your rage is rekindled to its fullest extent as a bolt of lightning cracks across the sky outside. You swear you can feel your eye twitch as you stand drenched from head to toe in rain before your dozing boyfriend, swaddled in cozy, dry warmth. 

“Dieter!” You take one of the pillows and lob it at him, hitting him right on the head. You don’t feel bad because you know it didn’t hurt him and it irks you when his eyes burst open, holding his hand to his forehead like it did. He blinks slowly, his eyelashes sticking together with sleep as he mumbles quietly, “What the fuck?” Then his eyes - those irritatingly gorgeous puddles of melted chocolate - widen when they take you in. His expression morphs into compassion and he shakes the blankets off, stumbling to his feet with lingering drowsiness.

“Bunny, what happened?” he asks, reaching for your arms to hold you. You take a step back from him, still steaming with anger. You get even more irritated when you feel the hot tears that prick your eyes every goddamn time you get upset. Stifling them back, you straighten your back and unleash your anger. 

“What happened? What happened is that I stayed late at work, even though my boss was being a fucking asshole, and when I went to leave, my car battery died, and since I stayed late, everyone else had already left, and my boyfriend didn’t answer my fucking calls!” You jab a finger into the air, aiming at his chest. “So I had to leave my car at work because no tow or rental company would help me, and I walked here in the fucking pouring-down rain!” 

You turn on your heel and slip against the marble floor, which you honestly should’ve seen coming but you’re too irate to think rationally right now. Dieter reaches his arms out again, wanting to steady you, but you beat him to it and stomp away angrily. With your face hidden from his sight now, you let your tears silently flow down your cheeks and blend with the fat raindrops on your neck. Dieter follows behind you, quickening his pace to match yours and subsequently slides in his slippers in your wet wake. He tries to get you to stop, sympathetically calling out to you by name. 

You beeline for the bedroom and lunge into the adjoining bathroom. Just as Dieter catches up to you, he’s pleading, “Bunny, wait, just let me-” 

You shut the door in his face and lock yourself in, leaning your back against it and crying into the darkness. You let yourself sob out loud, releasing all the pent up anger, frustration, sadness and shame you’ve been holding in all day and that hit its climax when you started arguing with Dieter. 

Your sweet, beloved boyfriend. 

The two of you haven’t officially labeled yourselves as of yet, but you know it’s more than the booty calls it began as. You… care about him. You never thought you’d see the snarky, charming jerk as anything but. However, over the past two and a half years you’ve shared a bed with him (among various other furniture and locations), he’s revealed a soft vulnerability that you were convinced he faked in order to come off to the public as empathetic, intellectual. But he’s the real deal; all those philosophical musings, whether fueled by questionable substances or not, were spoken from his heart. That four letter word that scares the daylights out of you both rings in your head, but you can’t bring yourself to say it. 

Just because you don’t have the wherewithal to vocalize your feelings right now, it only serves to engorge the guilt you have for shutting Dieter out, both literally and figuratively. He’s only trying to help you, trying to provide a safe space for you to lash out, cry, or forget about your grievances, like he always does. With a sniffle and a deep sigh, you open the door and jump a little when he’s standing right there; he was waiting for you to be ready. He never left. 

His genuine care for you makes your eyes well up and flood again, your voice hoarse as you begin, “I-I’m sorry, I just…”

Dieter holds his hand up in a sign of peace and softly interjects when you trail off, “Hold on. Before you say anything more, sweetheart, know that you have nothing to apologize for.”

Your last bit of resolve is blown to smithereens and you practically fall into his arms, where he catches you and envelopes you in his warmth. Openly sobbing again into his chest, Dieter presses his warm mouth against your temple and just holds it there for a moment, letting his touch calm you as he caresses your damp hair away from your face. When your spluttering gasps subside, he speaks quietly and compassionately, “I’m the sorry one. I had the balls to bother you earlier, knowing you were stressed and busy, and then being the lazy asshole I am, I fell asleep and was dead to the world for hours. I’m sorry.”

When you fish your face out of his shirt, the damp spot that your eyes made on the fabric makes you cringe. Dieter reads your discomfort and rubs his big palms up and down your back, silently pardoning you. He’s had much more vile substances on his person before, a few tears from his lover isn’t anything to make a fuss over. You shrug and collect your thoughts that finally have some sensibility to them, “It’s okay. I just had a bad day at work, they gave me so much extra shit because I scheduled a few days off so they were trying to wring me for all I had and were even pushier than usual and were yelling at me even when I was doing all the right things and what they asked and- and then my fucking car-”

You cut yourself off with a gasp, not having realized that throughout your spill you didn’t stop to breathe. Dieter strokes your cheek with the back of his fingers as he coos to you, the cool metal of his rings grounding you, “Hey, shhh. It’s over now, right? You just relax, baby, okay? Focus on taking some deep breaths, like we practiced. In through the nose and out through the mouth, remember?”

If you weren’t so distraught, it would make you chuckle. You were the one that had given him that technique to calm his own anxiety, and here you were forgetting your own advice. Dieter sets an example for you, breathing slowly through his nose and out through his mouth, and you follow along until your sobs stop catching in your throat. His hands never stop stroking you, sending waves of comfort through you. Soon, your body has stopped trembling because of your volatile emotions, but you shake in your skin from the cold rain that has seeped into your bones. 

He notices and chuckles breathily, rubbing your arms to instill some heat into your blood. There’s a hint of mischief in his smile, one that you sense will swell into some menacing devilishness as the night deepens, “Let’s get you warmed up, hm?” 

He sidesteps you to go deeper into the bathroom behind you, going to the bathtub which he takes a seat on the edge of and turns the faucet on. With his palm upturned, his forefinger points at you and wiggles in an upward motion. 

“Off,” he instructs. His eyes rake over your dripping frame, following the cold droplets’ paths over the rain-soaked clothes that mold to every delectable curve of your body. His yearning stare wedges an extra beat into your heart rate and makes it hard to swallow. 

Despite the unceremonious manner of your strip, your locked gazes are brimming with passion, ferocity, boiling with the heat of the night to come. Your sopping clothes land on the floor with a splat and Dieter sighs at your figure in all its nude glory, moving his hand to palm himself unabashedly through his pajama bottoms.

He leans back and swishes his finger through the water once the tub is filled, checking the temperature. He jerks his head toward the warm pool, “Come here, sweet thing.” 

His fingers graze along your bare hip as you step into the bath and retract back to his cock when you sink down out of reach. The water feels heavenly, and fulfilling Dieter’s wish without the need of verbal instruction, you lean your back against the slope of the tub until the water’s surface meets the underside of your chin, letting out a deep sigh. You’re about to close your eyes when he brushes a stray hair out of your face, wrangling your attention to the sweet smile that graces his lips. 

His voice is soft but firm in its sincerity, “I’ll have your car picked up and checked out.” Knowing you better than you know yourself, you’re about to pipe up to offer that he really doesn’t have to do that, that you’ll pay for the rest even if he insists on covering the tow. He leans in closer, so close you can taste his breath on your lips, robbing you of all thoughts other than the ones that spiral around him. “Don’t worry about any repairs it needs. I’ve got ya, sugar,” he supplies with a wink. 

“Your boss will be receiving an unsightly letter to treat you better or else. There’s also a blackmail package available, featuring a rather smelly, heaping pile of a ‘substance’,” his fingers scrunch in allusive air quotes, “that Bravo Enterprises can’t disclose only for the purpose of ensuring surprise for the recipient, of course, that can be left on his desk. If the lady so desires.” You’re giggling before he’s finished, smacking him on the bicep that leaves a wet handprint on his t-shirt sleeve. 

“I appreciate the offer, but no thank you. I don’t want to be fired, or jailed, depending on what this ‘substance’,” you mimic his air quotes, “is you speak of.” 

“But,” you look up at him from underneath your lashes, shyly, “how could I have known my boyfriend would send in a letter of complaint?” 

He kisses your forehead proudly, stroking your cheek with his thumb affectionately, “That’s my girl. Now, I want you to sit back and relax for a while. Let the stress of the day melt away.” His hands dip shallowly into the water to rub his thumbs into your collarbone, moving onto your shoulders to massage soothing circles there after that. His voice drops an octave, with a satisfying rasp that runs parallel to velvety smoothness, “I need you relaxed for what I’m going to do to you later, anyway.”

With your eyes closed, you smirk in anticipation. He gives a parting kiss to your cheek, leaving you to shed the stifling stress of the day on your own time. Before he does, he asks, “Want some?” 

You peek one eye open and are being offered a little white rolled paper with a twist at the end. 

“No thanks,” you shrug, “Maybe later.” 

A little while later, there’s a knock on the door so soft you don’t hear it. Dieter pokes his head in, his boyish scruff rearranging into a smile when he sees your eyes still closed in peace. He quietly lays a folded bathrobe on the counter next to the sink and steals one last admiring glance at you before he ducks back out. 

When the water has lost its warmth, you exit the bath and shrug on the thoughtful, fluffy robe with a smile, knotting the belt loosely around your waist as you go into the bedroom. Dieter is lying on his back on the bed, toying with a vibrator in his hands. The scene makes you chuckle and the playful sound draws his gaze. He swings his legs over the side of the bed, “Get over here, sweetness,” and you oblige, standing in between his parted thighs. The robe you’ve had on for all of sixty seconds becomes a redundant heap on the ground. Dieter’s hands cup your asscheeks, pulling you closer to him so he can envelope your nipple with his tongue. He bites down on your pert bud softly as you do the same to your lip, moaning through your teeth. His tongue drags a path across your chest to your other breast, where he laves his desperate tongue against the erect little peak there too. When he pulls back, he looks drunk off of you already. 

He pats the center of the bed, his tone gruff and lost in his allegiance to your pleasure, “On your knees.” 

Dieter puts the weight of his palm on your back, sculpting you into an arch. You’re on your knees but you’re also on your forearms, too. He kneels before you, sitting back on his haunches, and lifts your gaze up to his with a finger underneath your chin. “You remember what I said on the phone?” he asks, using his free hand to squeeze his bulge through his boxers. You nod, resting your cheek on his thigh and batting your lashes up at him. “Mmhm…,” you lick a stripe up the seam of the crotch, “You said you were gonna fuck my throat.”

He pulls his underwear down to his knees, freeing himself. The thick heft of him lightly smacks against your nose and a pornographic moan rumbles up from your center, whose emptiness is gnawing away at you. “Until I gag,” you tack on, remembering all his erotic details. His shoulders deflate with a sigh, his eyes shine with rapture, “Smart girl,” and he feeds you his cock. 

You take it greedily, engulfing it in your hot, warm mouth. Harsh, helpless breaths escape his chest as he stumbles through the foggy abyss of ecstasy, regaining enough consciousness to thread his fingers in your hair and glide against your waiting tongue. “Fuck,” he whispers on every thrust, taking the time to rut in and out of your mouth until enough saliva collects to aid his descent down your throat. You take it all like a good girl, his good girl. His stubbly balls nestle against your chin when he reaches that impossible smoothness at your end and he anchors himself there, waiting for that godsent sound of- 

You gag wetly around his length. Tears spill from the corners of your eyes as you try to look up at him, despite the compromising position. He helps you out and leans back so he can stare at you in amazement; his wrought expression has you dripping from both ends. 

He ruefully retreats from your cavern and a thick string of saliva leaves the two of you connected. He swipes it from your lip with his thumb and drinks you down as he shuffles on his knees behind you. 

Planting himself at your opening, he sighs contentedly as he settles in to patiently work you up until you go crazy. “Open up for me, kitty,” he rubs the backs of your thighs and you concede to lay your head down on the bed, splitting yourself for his ravenous eyes. You wiggle your ass back and forth when he doesn’t do anything but sit there admiring and your antics earn you an abrupt, satisfying, open-handed slap to your ass. 

In his voicemail smut, he promised he would open you up, nice and slow, and he does just that at a tauntingly sluggish pace. His languid, sensual tongue draws rivulets up the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, before his warm breath ghosts across his tight destination at the peak of your apex. Your breath catches in your throat delightedly when his wet curiosity finds your hole at last, tracing it with his tongue then deftly swirling it around your perimeter. It makes you bite your lip and your breathing come more strenuously. You’re tight, you know that and he knows that, but you don’t doubt his capability to unravel you until you can take his whole length with no resistance. 

His raspy, comforting voice murmurs into your cheek, echoing his promise, “Don’t worry, bunny, I’ll open you up. Nice and slow…” He starts with his tongue again, lubing your backdoor entrance until you can feel his heavy saliva slide down to your aching folds. You rub at your clit lazily while he massages your hole with his thumb, gradually exposing you to increased pressure. Your resistance fades in time with his patient ministrations, to the point where he can lick into you. You both groan out in relief, him at your taste and you in dire pleasure. He reaches to swap your hand for his and draws perfect circles around your clit while his tongue works magic against your hole, bringing you to the peaks of two orgasmic heights whose blissful slopes have you feeling relaxed afterward, like jelly. It takes a little while of licking into you for him to be able to slide his thick finger in there, wriggling it around. 

It tickles more than you expected, making you giggle before you’re choked out with a moan as the ticklishness ignites into absolute pleasure. The tingles crawl up your spine, fizzing out in the base of your neck and skittering sparks of dopamine all over your brain. 

He squeezes a second finger inside in between contractions of your muscle, convulsing and expanding in time with the merciless waves of ecstasy that pour over you. Dieter watches with rapt attention as you stretch around him, your impeccable body adjusting to him deliciously. When your body starts to pull him back in on every retraction of his fingers, his cock twitches. You’re ready. 

He gets to his knees, stretching over to the bedside table to grab the lube - just for extra comfort. You whimper ceaselessly underneath him on all fours, your body on fire for him. You squirm with impatience, a fiery need for him to fill you to the brim thrashing through you. Hurried by your mewling, Dieter’s fingers slip against the bottle and knock it to the floor. “Fuck!” he spits, bursting you into pieces with laughter. 

He regains possession of the bottle and settles your devilish attitude with a single smack to your asscheek. The cap pops open, the cold gel runs into his palm, and he warms it up in his hands before he coats you everywhere you’ll need it. Dieter gives himself a few additional strokes too, groaning at the thought of what’s about to come (quite literally). 

He pushes his tip against your hole, testing you, relishing in the remaining pressure your body still keeps. It feels so good to be broken by him, like he’s knocking down a barrier you don’t have the strength to keep up anymore. You want to surrender and he lets you. 

He pushes inside and you gasp sharply, immediately followed by warbling babbles of how good he feels, how big he is, how good it fucking feels! He eases into you slowly, gliding deeper until his hips are nestled against your cheeks and all he can see is his hairy base above where he’s buried inside you. His splayed hand runs from the nape of your neck down your curved spine. “Shh, bunny,” he soothes. His hand comes to a stop just above your tailbone, pressing into the small of your back to arch you further beneath him. You bend to his will and groan as the new angle seats him impossibly deeper inside. 

Your pussy drips for him, warm and fresh, and your hips wiggle of their own accord to make his intrusion a pleasurable one. His fingers wind around your pelvis and hold you steady, tongue tutting at you over your shoulder. 

“Move, goddamnit,” you seethe, on the verge of tears. You feel helpless beneath him, a prisoner to your own desire, and your voice comes out just as vulnerable despite its biting rage that he still hasn’t moved. 

Upon hearing your desperation, he doesn’t make you hold out any longer. His first thrust is gentle, experimental, opening you up even further. Breath heaving, whole body shaking with every inhale that squeezes you tighter around him, “Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck…”

“Holy fuck,” he blurts out in an echo to you, staring down at his thick cock lodged in your tight hole. 

Even as he starts to gain pace, he maintains a consistent degree of gentleness to his thrusts so as not to hurt you - that’d be no fun for anyone involved. 

“Feel so good, bunny,” Dieter whispers breathlessly, neck craned up to the gods with eyes closed and imperceptible, breathy oh, oh, ohs flowing from his mouth on every plunge. Meanwhile, your face is smashed into the sheets, squealing with a sensation so pleasurable that is ill-monikered by “an itch that needs to be scratched”; this is more like a firework in the night sky that you jump to catch every singing ember of. 

You grip at the bedsheets with white knuckles, grinding your teeth together. Dieter splays his hand on the crown of your head and lifts you up to release your stifled, heavy breaths, “Let go, bunny,” he encourages. Your resolve instantly weakens and your orgasm overtakes you swiftly, knocking you without warning. Wracked with blinding pleasure, every breath you take is either a scream, a desperate moan, or a wrecked sob for him to keep going! 

He does, fucking you until you’re a mess beneath him. You faintly remember his threat on the phone, something like he’d pull out midway through your release and make you gape. But thank fucking god you appealed to his sympathy enough tonight that instead he treats you, keeping his length nestled in your ass for you to pulse around, choking on air as your heart pounds in your chest. 

Not too long later, your reverie is dissolved when he lands a smack to your ass, “Good girl,” he purrs. He leans over your body, his breath cool on your feverish skin as it tickles your shoulder in a whisper, “Your turn.” 

You whimper when he pulls out and stay stuck in your feline position, back arched like a cat and wishing he was still hitting it. Dieter lies down in front of you, his cock resting erect against his tummy and his stupidly big, pleading eyes beg for you. “Please, baby,” comes whimpering from between those plush lips. 

You nearly choose to leave him dangling on the edge; after all, you know how much he likes to be cucked (and how much you like to cuck him). But you want him too badly. Like in his dirty dreams this morning that he analogged for you, you mount him and begin riding. His big palms ascend your sweaty skin to cup your breasts that bounce as your thighs work to propel you up and sink you down in quicker succession. He leans forward to take one plush mound in his mouth, flicking your nipple with his tongue - but you twist your fingers in his ruffled hair and tug him back. It felt good, but the devastated crease between his brows makes you feel even better. This push and pull, give and take of dominance and submission always had to equalize with you two; your egos were too prideful for the game to be finished with a clear decision. 

With the score tied, you finally find the patience to slow down; you gyrate your hips, grinding down on Dieter and meeting his shallow thrusts in a symphony of movement. That is, until that biting urge deep in your tummy needs another orgasm thrown to it to be satiated and stop growling at you for more. You resume bouncing, not going as fast as you could but opting for a poignant, striking rhythm instead. 

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna-” he chokes.

“Fuck yeah baby, do it,” you hiss like a temptress, watching the restraint drain from his eyes and give way to the unstoppable bliss that erodes him until he’s nothing but. You lift your hips up for him to pull out and he takes himself in hand, pumping feverishly as white hot cum spills into his lap. The muscles of Dieter’s stomach jerk in tandem with his spurting, even after he’s reached empty. He runs his hand down his sweaty, wrecked face, breathing haggardly as you roll off his lap and lower your mouth to his hips to lap him up. He tastes mostly salty with a hint of sweetness, viscous and easy to swallow down. It might not be your arousal your tongue cleans him of, like he fantasized earlier, but the sinful sight drives him up the fucking wall regardless. 

Both of you lie there, him on his back and you on his chest, for a long time, just trying to catch your breath. Dieter reaches over to the nightstand for a joint and raises his eyebrow, asking your permission, which you give with a nod. He lights up and passes the smoke to you through parted lips, before handing over the rest of it for you to finish off. The thing about weed’s specific effect on you, that Dieter is very familiar with, is that it makes you feel warm, cuddly, and… aroused. With a mischievous giggle, you grind your wet folds against his thigh, asking for more, to which he grunts and gives a dry chuckle. 

“I’m not 25 anymore, bunny, you gotta give me a little bit of time to recover.” 

“What do you think I was trying to get off work for?” Your fingers waltz up his ribs with a mission to tickle him, but he catches on and swats you away with a smile. You love that shit-eating grin he gets, but it tarnishes your own when you’re hit with the thought that… you’ll miss it. 

You turn your face away to look down at the burning paper, trying to disguise the disappointment in your voice, “You’re leaving soon, right?” 

He sighs bitterly, but not at you, “Yeah, I am. But I was thinking…”

Your ears perk up so that you don’t mistake not even one word in his soft, raspy voice, “If you could, if you wanted to… you could come stay with me for a little while.”

You meet his eyes to gauge if he’s fucking with you - to your delight, he isn’t. “I have that fuck off huge house that production gave me with nobody in it but me and some makeup and costume people who are in and out for a few hours each morning. Ha,” he chuckles, raising his eyebrows in time with his words, “In and out.” 

He can never take anything seriously for very long, but that’s the Dieter that you fell in- nopedon’tsayitthatwordistooscaryheonlyinvitedyoutocomestayforalittlewhilethatdoesn’tmeananythingseriousthatdoesn’tchangeanythingbetweenyoutwo. But the softened glimmer in his eye… it’s not a high from the weed. 

“I’d love to.”

main masterlist 🍑 join my taglist!

💘taglist: @pascalpanic @maievdenoir @pedrostories @your-voice-is-mellifluous @uncassettodiricordi @harriedandharassed @scentedcandletidalwave @oscar-wilde-thing @kiki13522

[sweetpascal]

— 𝐭 𝐡 𝐞 𝐬 𝐭 𝐨 𝐧 𝐞 𝐫 𝐝 𝐢 𝐚 𝐫 𝐢 𝐞 𝐬 ༄

pairing: dieter bravo x fem!reader

MAIN MASTERLIST

— series summary: being dieter's only best friend—also long term friends with benefits—you've learned not to be an enabler like the other "friends" he's had in the past. after forcing him to only have weed as his drug of choice as therapy, you're soon trapped in his world of chaos, sex, and idiocy.

— series warnings: [ WARNINGS WILL BE MORE DESCRIPTIVE PER CHAPTER ]. MINORS DNI. idiots to lovers (boffum). TW: weed use. healthy coping mechanisms. TW: mentions of poor mental health. sex sex lots of sex. brief angsty-ness. dieter is just a huge dork in this.

— notes: the dividers used in this series have all been made by me. please give credit if you wanna take them for any fics you'd wanna use them for. thank you !! ≽^•⩊•^≼

follow @sweetpascal-notifs for updates on future fics.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈 ���𝓃𝒹 𝓇𝑒𝒷𝓁𝑜𝑔𝓈 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓇𝑒𝒸𝒾𝒶𝓉𝑒𝒹. 💌 ꒱ ˎˊ˗

— 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐎 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐃.

ᝰ.ᐟ = s m u t 〤 = a n g s t

no. 01 — draw me like one of your french girl's

MORE COMING SOON. ༉‧₊˚.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ EXTRAS ꒱ ˎˊ˗

series pinterest board

[pedroshotwifey]

Wifey's Christmas Countdown Dieter Fics (Not all Christmas related)

Holiday Baking Dieter Bravo x f!reader - You reward Dieter for staying out of your way in the kitchen. (1.4k)

Careful What You Wish For Dieter Bravo x gn!reader - You help Dieter indulge in one of his fantasies. (1.1k)

Requested Dieter Fics

Tease Sub!Dieter Bravo x sub!GN!reader x dom!Dave York - You and Dieter think it's fun to tease Dave, and Dave thinks he should teach you both a lesson for it. (2.4k)

[ryuzakemo128]

Dieter Bravo x Italian! Gothic! UFC Fighter! Female Reader! Headcanons

Content Warnings: Drug addiction, alchol mentioned, chronic levels of fluff, female reader is an absolute angel, cute couple tooth rottingly cute levels. Family tradtions around christmas mentioned to a small degree. Estabished relationship.

Note: If you want more of this pairing let me know and I'll write up some more headcanons. NSFW included maybe??

Note 2: I got a nice clickity cl;ackity keyboard so I am having way more fun writing with it than I imagined I would have.

Divider template provided by the wonderful @cafekitsune

Word count for those who would like to know: 2235

Link to other things you might like that are also written by me are: HERE

Despite your Italian heritage, Dieter finds your gothic aesthetic rather alluring and intimidating at the same time. The layers of black on black makes you rather intimidating and harder to approach. You would show off your walk-in closet of ink, abyssal darkness and watch how he reacts to the sea of black clothes. Organised by brand, style, material type, length.

One half, the left-hand side, is things you have bought brand new from luxury brands, styles and materials. The right-hand side are things that are thrifted and altered. Things that are custom made to fit you and your body type. Along with things you made for yourself which are scandalous, shocking, wicked, sexy, erotic, erogenous. While still sticking within the theme of black.

2.      Your taste in cocktails are both eccentric, odd, and sometimes just too strong for him to handle. Much like the taste of alcohol in general. The only things you don’t like are beer, wine and stouts. Your signature cocktail called ‘Death’s Memory’, a concoction of two shots of black vodka, two shots of clear rum, a shot of absinthe, lime & lemon extract, blackberries, black edible glitter and blackberry juice. The cocktail glasses being in the silhouette of appealing shapes of a woman’s figure. The cocktail glasses themselves, adding an extra portion to the cocktail experience.

3.      You are infatuated with slow cookers and continuously have at least four working continuously at once with either a flavoursome dish or a really sweet dessert for that evening. You love to pamper him with feasts & spreads end up tasting wonderfully.

4.      Your taste in expensive cheeses like Parmesan Reggiano cheese wheels, brie cheese and other cheeses like it. He gets treated with inside your cooking and inside the light snacks you make him in the afternoon. Sometimes even cheese fondue.

5.      You create a Calander to mark of the amount of days he spent sober. On tally mark represents a month. With the month Calander below, it is to show each day. You don’t just verbally support his drug addiction recovery, but you help in keeping track. When he slips up and relapses sometimes. You don’t demean or insult him. You just sit down beside him silently. If he’s crying because of it. You just embrace him and remain silent, knowing sometimes words aren’t always enough to soothe the ‘savage beast within’.

6.      You hold his hair when he asks you to without a word. It didn’t matter that he didn’t have long hair to hold. But you understood why he wanted it. Thus. You did it regardless of how odd it sounded to someone else. “It’s not weird to want someone to care about you. And a hangover is normal. I’ve had plenty, too.”.

7.      On Valentine's Day, you get him gourmet chocolate with a hundred crimson blood-red roses. You would playfully tease, “Who says men cannot receive roses as well, hmm? I thought Mr. Bravo is an eccentric actor, flamboyant to the core.”

8.      You have four black cats named: Mayhem, Shadow, Bullet and Morbid. Each with their own colour coded collar, food bowl and litter box. Red for Mayhem, Blue for Shadow, Purple for Morbid and Green for Bullet. Their cat tree in the living room looks like a fuzzy replica of a cherry blossom tree from Japan.

9.      You have a large, extensive range of dark, moody gothic makeup from brands you love and loved since your teens. The extravagant vanity your uncle made for your 21st. The black vanity with the warm yellow lights around the mirror. You like explaining what each use product had and what style you liked the most.

Some make up products look like a quill pen, others come in oddly shaped packaging which you show off the same day you receive it in the mail.

10.    When Dieter is sick, you make sure there is at least two large bottles of water in the bedroom, bathroom, living room and kitchen. Hydration, hydration, hydration. You make him soup with toast. Along with light snacks like water crackers and fruit toast. Leaving the remote for the TV and the air conditioner on his bedside table in case he got too warm or too cold. Along with some kind of entertainment like romantic shows, which you noticed that he watched sometimes. “Do you prefer orange or apple juice?” is the question you’d ask whenever you made him breakfast.

You own a juicer in your kitchen after the third time he gets sick just make sure there is always steady supply of fresh juice in the fridge. You excuse it by saying ‘fresh is better than store bought’. Not telling him he is the main reason you bought it in the first place.

11.    You love giving him bear hugs when he’s upset and whenever he gets home. It doesn’t matter what happened. Bear hugs were a big thing for you. Despite your intimidating presence. You could be smelling like sweat and BO from a training or sparring session. But you would still give him a bear hug anyway.

12.    You would ask whether he would prefer to adopt or have his first child biologically. Mainly out of pure curiosity to begin with. Before it grows into a much deeper discussion. You would also pepper in the assurance that there wasn’t any kind of rush to decide whether he wanted children or not regardless.

13.    Italian hot chocolate, you made it once for Christmas when he said he didn’t want to celebrate loudly. This thicker version of hot chocolate was the one your father made you growing up. “My father would wait till my mother would go on ‘girl’s night’s out’. We would stay up until one in the morning watching a movie and drinking several cups of hot chocolate.” Though, the experimental eggnog with brandy or rum gives you both a hangover the next day.

14.    Willing to paint his toenails whatever colour he wanted and however he wanted. Regardless of whether it’s a pedicure by a professional or you. You also make sure to use the foot bath and the lavender incense to provide a relaxing scent. You pay for spa days on his birthday, easter and valentine’s day.

15.    When you get sick, you often show it by sleeping in another hour or having a sore back, sore enough to not be able to move out of bed. Mainly because the muscles in your back would lock up and require a deep massage or warm heating to ease up. You don’t reject his help because, one its nice to receive it and two, his massages help quite a bit. The herbal teas like honey, lemon & lime juice in hot water, hibiscus tea, green tea with ginger. Any and all attempts to cook is met with fond responses. Always encouraging him, he’s doing what he can and if he wanted, they can always have something delivered if he burns something. “Cara mia, you did not fail, failure means you didn’t bother trying. You made an honest to god attempt.” You wouldn’t coddle with that kind of remark. But you wouldn’t say that you didn’t appreciate the effort he made, either.

You often find recipes that are easy for him to make to start with and if he ever decides to surprise you with something Italian related you get really excited no matter the outcome of it. “Cara, it’s wonderful.”

16.    You call him Mio Tesoro (My Treasure), Cara Mia (My Beloved), Cuore mio (My heart), Mio tutto (My Everything), Mio Stella (My Star), Mio Carissina (My Dearest), Caro (Dear).  Amongst many other Italian terms of endearment you love to throw his way to show him how much you care about him.

17.    The plates, bowls, mugs, etc. They are all made in the pottery classes you went to in your spare time and no two are the same as each other, making each piece as unique as the one sitting above it. Some are pink, blue and other bright colours after you started dating Dieter because his vibrant personality inspired those pieces at the time. The special one you made for him is a pink one with a 3D white cloud on the front with ‘Dieter’s Mug’ written in cursive underneath like they were rain drops from the cloud. You have a shed in the backyard dedicated to it being her pottery area, which you go to make more plates or to fix any broken ones using the kintsugi method with either gold or silver lacquer.

“If you want to try it out, go for it, I’ll even take you to some of the pottery classes with me too. It’ll be a fun date thing.” You’d tell him if he showed interest in it too.

You also make good luck charms for keyrings that are far cuter than your over-all aesthetic displayed. Things like clouds, frogs, penguins, polar bears, sharks, penguins, kittens, puppies made into key rings, mini figurines, pen holders, etc.

18. Sometimes you ask him whether a vintage piece is worth adding to your wardrobe because you believe in quality over quantity with everything you own clothing, make-up and décor wise. Thrifting them isn’t off the table either.

Upcycling some clothes that don’t fit your aesthetic to resell later in your studio in the city for between $5-$10. Mostly because its more of a hobby rather than a full-time job.

19. The human sized dog bed is pulled out for movie nights in the living room. You own two in case he wanted to sleep on his own one for the extra space. One of them is charcoal grey and the other is a deep brown. Getting special goose and duck feather pillows for them specifically. Even though each one can fit two people you thought if he wanted to have one to himself, he’d have the extra space to get extra comfortable.

20. You have a home gym designed specifically for MMA, Gymnastics, Deadlifting, and Callisthenics. Which was a routine for you even before you started dating Dieter. It was part of your pottery shed. The second room of the same shed dedicated to just that and that alone.

You have posters of strongwomen, female powerlifters and other female athletes around the gym signed by each one too. Along with framed tickets of any possible match or event you went to see it in person. Just as a reminder that this is what she loves and UFC is the career she chose out of a passion rather than any possible hope of leaving any form of ‘legacy’ behind.

“I started gymnastics when I was three, I started MMA and Callisthenics when I was 8 and I started deadlifting at 14.” You explain to him. “Though if you want to get healthy, I suggest Callisthenics, yoga, and only lifting once you start learning how to do it with a personal trainer.”

You end up getting a treadmill in there in case he wanted to ever just do a light jog while still spending time with you. Even if he’s not deadlifting heavy weights like you are or practicing your punches on a punching bag. It was nice to be in the same area and being able to see you in your natural ‘element’.

21. You make crocheted shark themed things whenever you watch sad things because otherwise you’re crying along with Dieter and you have no idea what do with your hands whenever it happens either if you’re not snacking either. So you crochet shark themed things to help whenever Dieter gets upset or overstimulated by something/ Movie related or not. Sometimes even booking chairs away from Cinema aisles because you know for a fact he doesn’t like people getting into his person space even if its for a few seconds.

You don’t care if he thinks its ‘extra hassle’ for you its peace of mind and you prefer to keep him happy. If that means sitting in the two reclining chairs next to the wall? Then so be it. Peace of mind is peace of mind. No matter how strange it looked.

22. You memorize his favourite treats, desserts and what he reaches for when his mood is sour to make a homemade version. Sometimes even just making it while he’s taking a nap so he can open the fridge later to find it there. Another small thing you like doing for him.

23. You look through fashion catwalk videos with him to see what outfit he likes the most. “What about that one?” you’d ask as a daring outfit is shown. Even the more odd ones were looked at, along with the more artistic leaning fashion shows were looked at too.

“What about that one?” You’d ask showing a clip of outfits worn by actors that played villain roles. Which were also your personal favourite. “What about that one too? Can’t go wrong with a suit or a three piece one for that matter. Perhaps even a crimson turtleneck and blazer combo?”

“How do you feel about the capelet over the long sleeved turtleneck dress?” is one example of questions you’d ask him. Though the large fur coats you love always seem to get him to react differently depending what fashion line you both watch or rewatch together.

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

into you

Summary: After almost giving up the hope to become a big actor you get offered the leading role in a period drama, leaving you to spend three months in Scotland with your male co star Dieter Bravo and maybe falling in love with him.

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x fem. reader

Wordcount: 2.247

Rating: T

Warnings: fluff, falling in love, implied smut, kissing, really cheesy movie lines I made up, confessions of feelings, reader is in her late thirties, Dieter playing the piano

A/N: Another one for  @undercoverpena April showers challenge! What's better than a Pedro character in period clothing in the rain? Making out with him hehe

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

You couldn’t sleep. 

The moon was shining hrough the window of your hotel room, an old castle in the middle of nowhere somewhere in Scotland. 

You had come here almost three months ago, having gotten the first big job of your career, the lead role in a period drama. The first lead role you ever got. The first big job you ever got. 

For years you dreamed of being a big movie star. 

Much like every young person who came to LA. 

Which had been almost twenty years ago. You had been about to quit trying for that one big role that would finally grant your your big success last year. 

By now well in your thirties (the forties getting closer and closer), not having any major success apart from some multi episode secondary character on some netflix shows in the latest years, you gave up hope that you would make it. 

Sometimes the residuals you got from playing Chandler Bing’s awkward girlfriend for two episodes almost twenty years ago on friends had been the only way to pay your rent.

You were looking into going back to school when your agent called you, talking you into going to this last audition. It had been as a favour to them that you agreed, the contracts between you and the agency already canceled towards the end of the month. 

They had always believed in you and you hated saying no to them because of that reason. 

Maybe it was you having nothing to lose that left you going into the audition and blowing them all away. Not that you thought you did until your agent called you not even twenty minutes after you went out of the audition, asking you to come back to read opposite the male lead. 

Still you didn’t let yourself getting your hopes up, walking back into the office building, back into the room you had been in before, now with an additional face smiling warmly at you. 

You didn’t know that in the next two hours your whole life would change. 

Not just because they offered you the job. 

No, It was the day you met Dieter Bravo.

Of course you knew who Dieter Bravo was. 

You had admired him since he starred in the high school drama series you definitely did not tape every episode from when you were in your teens. 

And there had been no posters of him in your room growing up, nope. 

But like almost every teen crush, it faded over the years. 

You grew up, and he did too. You knew he had won an Oscar some years back, you saw the movie in the cinema back then. 

He had made headlines after that, naming him the next big thing. 

But lately the only headlines you remembered of him had been of his drug escapades and dating life. 

So you had been a little reserved when you first met, hoping he would be professional enough throughout the audition. 

Hope you shouldn’t have had, because Dieter had turned out to be professional in every single way.

Now, after spending almost two months with him, playing opposite of him, acting that you were in love with him, you found yourself wishing he would be a little less professional. 

Groaning you sat yourself up in your bed, clicking the lamp on the bedside table on, reaching for your phone. 

2:43 am. 

Taking a deep breath and releasing a long sigh as you exhaled you let your head fall back. 

In twenty four hours you would be on a plane back to the states, already on your way to shoot your next movie, your career seemingly finally starting off now that you were starring in a movie with Dieter Bravo. 

You should be beyond happy. 

Everything you dreamed off finally seemed to come true. You had three jobs lined up that would pay more than you had made in the last ten years combined. 

Yet the thought of waking up every morning and not getting to spend the day with Dieter made it all bittersweet. 

You had spent a lot of time together since getting to Scotland to shoot this movie. Not only on set, but apart from it too. He had been here before, shooting another movie and invited you out some times, showing you around. You had dinner together almost every night be it in an restaurant he wanted to show you or in the hotel. You got to know the man behind the persona you learned he put on for the public for and over the last weeks you had found yourself falling for him. 

Your fingers cam up to brush over your lips, the lips he had kissed. 

More than once. 

In front of the camera. 

But before you went to bed tonight, he walked you to your room and he had kissed you good night. Without cameras rolling. Without people around. Just you and him. His warm hand on your cheek, your back pushed against your hotel room door as he towered over you, his other hand resting on the door behind you. 

You were out of breath when he parted from your lips, wishing you a good night, leaving you watching after him with your lips parted, your brain still trying to process that he had just kissed you, as he went down the hallway until he disappeared into his room. 

You were too giddy to sleep, getting an old sweatshirt on before you grabbed your hotel key and walked out of your room, hoping he was as sleepless as you were and downstairs where you had found him often during your stay. 

You could hear the faint sound of a piano as you entered the lobby, the night manager giving you a small smile as you walked past, following the sound. 

In the far back corner of the lobby was a piano where you found Dieter playing a melody you did not recognise. 

You had found him here before, in the beginning when you could not sleep because you were too nervous to fuck this big chance you got up. 

He told you that his art supplies hadn’t been shipped yet, and that he usually painted when he couldn’t sleep.

And so instead he played. 

And you listened, sitting next to him until you both almost fell asleep, before he walked you to your room, only to be up some hours later to shoot a movie where his character denied to be in love with your character, pushing your character away until a big dramatic scene where you would finally admit your feelings to each other. 

Sitting down on the seat next to him as he played now, you let your head fall against his shoulder, hearing him inhale as he continued to play. 

His lips brushed against your temple and you closed your eyes, just listening to his song. 

When he finished you looked up at him, his eyes were already on you, an unreadable expression on his face. 

„Couldn’t sleep?“ he asked. 

You hummed in agreement. 

„Too many thoughts in my head,“ you whispered and he nodded. One of his arms came to wrap around your back, pulling you closer against his side. 

„You wanna talk about those thoughts?“ he asked and you chuckled. 

„Don’t wanna fuck the big scene up tomorrow, well today,“ you said and he gave you a small smile. 

„If someone is gonna fuck up it’s me. You make me keep forgetting my lines,“ he winked and you felt your cheeks growing warm, remembering the many occasions Dieter had seemingly spaced out during some scenes, looking at you with an expression you couldn’t place. 

„What do you mean?“ You asked, and he sucked his bottom lip in, before he shrugged and there it was again, that expression in his face, his eyes big as he looked at you. 

„I can’t stop looking at you. You’re so talented and beautiful and kind and so damn intelligent. Sexy….,“ he winked „You just blow me away and it’s like my brain stops working when I look at you sometimes. I never really felt like this before…“ he whispered and you blinked at him. 

„What I am trying to say is, I like spending time with you. I like talking to you. I like kissing you, touching you,“ he grinned and you huffed. 

„Especially when it’s just the two of us. Last week when the director called cut when we were in bed….“ He closed his eyes, shaking his head. 

You had rushed off after finishing the scene with him, having to take care of the ache between your legs in the bathroom after spending almost six hours in bed with him, shooting numerous sex scenes.

„I wish we had been alone,“ he whispered his face getting closer to yours, his lips brushing over yours. 

„Dieter,“ you whispered, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, his lips pressing against yours and you shivered. 

„Yeah?“ He asked. 

„We are alone now,“ you whispered and he nodded, before he kissed you again, deeply. 

„Would you like to have sex with me?“ He whispered and your lips twitched into a grin which he mirrored before he kissed you again. 

„Take me to your room, Dieter,“ you said, giggling when you found yourself pulled in the direction of the elevators in the next moment. 

„This is madness,“ you shook your head, the rain coming down on you without mercy, drenching your many layers of clothes. 

„Why? Why is it madness that I have fallen for you?“ Dieter asked, in character, his white shirt clinging to his chest. 

You huffed a laugh, your character in denial about the feelings not only she had, but he had too. 

„Because we are both engaged. And not to each other. We have to end this. I have to….“ You shook your head, closing your eyes, before you looked up at him. Dieter having closed the distance between the two of you, but not close enough to touch. The raindrops where running down his nose, his hair clinging to his face. 

He looked like a wet dream straight out of a Jane Austen novel.

„All these times we spend in each others arms, they don’t mean anything to you?“ He asked. 

„It was a mistake. It shouldn’t have happened,“ you said, Dieter’s character seeing right through your lie. 

„Do you love me?“ He asked and you did not have to play the small smile that sneaked to your lips for only a moment before you fought it down. 

„It doesn’t matter,“ you said, turning away from him, but his hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you before you could go. 

„It matters to me. ,“ he whispered, broken, and the tone of his voice made you want to cry. 

The rain continued to fall as you gave the camera time to capture both of your faces. 

„Of course I love you,“ you finally said, looking at him over your shoulder. 

„Then stay,“ he pleaded. You began to shake your head, when he pulled you against his chest, one of his hands on your cheek, brushing your hair that stuck to your face to the side, his eyes gazing deeply into yours. 

„Stay and allow yourself to be happy,“ he said, almost begging. 

„Stay here and let me love you,“ he let his forehead fall against yours and your eyes dropped close, pictures of the night he had spend with you filling your mind, the way his forehead had rested against yours as he filled you over and over and…

You opened your eyes and Dieter’s lip twitched for a second, having caught your unintended pause.

„What about our families?“ you asked, „What about my sister? She’s in your house getting ready to marry you today,“ you asked. 

„They will understand. They have to. And if they don’t, I’ll take you away where we can live our life without the judgement of others. You’ll never have to worry for money.I love you, please be with me,“ his nose brushed against yours. 

You felt his other hand on your lower back and you gasped. 

„Then take me away,“ you whispered, feeling his smile against your lips as he finally kissed you, your arms wrapping around his broad back, fingertips brushing over his drenched clothes as he deepened the kiss. 

The first thing you realised when Dieter parted from your lips was that the rain had stopped and that it was quiet around you. Too quiet. 

Looking at Dieter he gave you a sheepish smile before you looked around, finding the crew around you looking at the both of you, Dieter’s PA holding two robes in his arms, giving you a wide smile. 

„You gonna listen when I call cut now?“ The director teased with a wide grin and you let your head fall against Dieter’s chest, mortified, but he just chuckled, before he helped you get into the robe his PA had brought over.��

„We’ll meet in an hour for the wedding scene, do not be late,“ the director reminded everyone, giving you and Dieter a longer look, and you nodded. Dieter grabbed your hand, and you looked at him. 

„Can’t wait to marry you,“ he winked and kissed you again, before you both were rushed off from the set to get ready. 

And you did actually get married. 

Seven months later.

On a beach. 

In the rain. 

Without any interruptions. 

[psychedelic-ink]

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐑

ㅤㅤjavi gutierrez x f!reader x dieter bravo

genre: smut, minors dni, romance

word count: 0.7k

summary: javi and dieter spoil you with everything they have.

warnings: established relationship, threesome, poly relationship, nipple play, vaginal fingering, oral (reader receiving)

a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LOVE @pedrorascal!!!! I know you're probably sleeping right now (damn you timezones)but hopefully this will be a lovely morning surprise! I'm so happy that I've met you through this hellsite---everything you create is art and you bring so much joy to this fandom. You're one of a kind and I just adore and love you so so much 💗💗💗💗

It’s still hard to believe it sometimes— The two men that spontaneously came into your life, the way they made you feel that you belonged in a chaotic, dark world. First came Javi, then came Dieter. Two loveable idiots, and you, the biggest idiot in love. 

Looking down, your heart swells, and your pussy throbs. It’s a sight to behold. Both of their mouths latched on to each hardened nipple, sucking with earnest while you sit on the bed, your back pressed again the bedpost. Their eyes are closed, lashes fanning their cheeks. You slightly shift, your arousal getting the better of you as you search for any kind of friction. 

“Don’t be impatient,” Dieter murmurs with his mouth full. “Let us make you feel good. It’s been a while.” 

A shiver runs through your body at his words, memories of the last time the three of you were together flooding your mind. It had been pure bliss, the way their bodies moved against yours, the way their lips and hands explored every inch of you. And now, as they continue to suck and nibble on your nipples, it feels like coming home. 

Javi moves his mouth to your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses and love bites along your skin. Dieter's hands move down to your thighs, spreading them wider as he dips his fingers between your legs. Your breath hitches as they both apply their attention to different parts of your body, driving you closer and closer to the edge. 

Their touch is familiar yet electric, and you can't help but moan when Dieter's fingers slip inside of you, finding your sweet spot and rubbing it with just the right amount of pressure. Javi moves his mouth down to your stomach, kissing and licking his way toward your core as Dieter starts to thrust two thick fingers in and out.

Your body is on fire as they continue to devour you, your senses heightened and your mind consumed with pure pleasure. You arch your back, pushing your breasts closer to Dieter’s eager mouth, encouraging them to take more of you in. Dieter's fingers continue to move inside of you, hitting all the right spots as he curls them and adds in a second and then a third. The sensation is overwhelming, and you can feel your muscles clenching and your release approaching. 

Javi's hot breath fans against your core as he blows on your heated skin before finally attaching his lips to your clit. You throw your head back, letting out a long moan as his expert tongue works its magic, swirling and flicking at just the right pace. Your body is trembling now, the sensations too much to handle as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. 

Your eyes drop to where Javi crowns between your legs, his mouth briefly pulling back as Dieter stuffs his fingers between the other man’s lips. He sucks on them, loudly moaning while Dieter shallowly thrusts them in and out. 

“Good boy,” he raps, pulling them out and sliding them into you once more. “Now make out pretty girl come with those full lips of yours.” 

You can hear Javi and Dieter's moans mixing with yours, their own arousal evident. You feel them move closer to you, their bodies pressing against yours as they continue to suck, lick, and stroke you into oblivion. Your body is on the verge of ecstasy, and you know that you're only a few seconds away from losing yourself completely. 

And then it happens, the pleasure overtakes you, and you're screaming their names as you come undone in their arms. Javi and Dieter both hold you close, their touches still gentle as you ride out your orgasm. Their kisses now sweet and tender instead of passionate and relentless. 

“That’s it,” Dieter whispers. “That’s our girl.” 

Javi blinks up at you, his eyes dazed and lips slick, “That was amazing, mi amor. Want you to make a mess again, want to taste it on my tongue until the day I die.” 

“What about you guys?” 

Dieter chuckles, breath fanning your neck, “Don’t worry, I already have plans of fucking that dork over there until he faints as you watch.” 

“Good,” you say with a wide grin. “I can’t wait to see it.” 

As your breathing returns to normal, you find yourself sandwiched between them, their arms wrapped around you in a protective embrace. You feel so loved, so cherished in this moment, and you know that with them by your side, anything is possible. Your heart is full, and you know that you belong with these two loveable idiots, who have captured your heart and your body with their undeniable charm and affection.

[jessthebaker]

🫠🫠

Brandy Butter

Dieter Bravo x f!reader

|| Consent universe oneshot, heavy mentions of the last chapter Concentric, so do not recommend reading as a stand-alone ||

{ Fuck Yeah Holidays | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: E

Prompts: Drunken confession | Christmas (additional requests sent in with the votes in notes at the end)

Summary: Dieter blames it on the damn brandy butter.

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, mention of food, dirty talk, fingering, handjob, cumshot, feelings so fluffy. These holiday fics are for fun, so not as *rigorously edited* as my regular stories, please forgive any mistakes or plot holes!

Word count: 3.4k

Notes: Posting this a week before Christmas so you guys can read at your own pace! This one came in first in the holiday vote, and I've been waiting to write this for a long time. This is dedicated to Cristina @pedropascalsx for being one of my favourite people on this hellsite, but also partly because it mentions a key scene in the series for which she commissioned this gorgeous art for. Thank you for being the sweetest friend, this is for you ❤️

It’s shaping up to be the first decent holiday season you’ve had in a while. Your parents are on a cruise (you love them, but they haven’t met Dieter in person yet and you’re happy to hold off for a day that doesn’t involve your mother stress-cooking and your father knocking back eggnog), Pete and Ana are in town, and you’re all going to Rebecca’s for dinner tonight.

You’re starting Christmas morning the same way you have since college - making Christmas pudding in your pyjamas.

Your roommate from the other side of the pond introduced you to the weird and quintessentially British holiday dessert in freshman year, and it’s been a treasured tradition of yours ever since to make it from scratch every year.

The Christmas pudding is a hard sell. The dark brown, domed sponge cake is boiled for hours, packed with alcohol-soaked dried fruit and definitely not Instagram-friendly, but you’ve yet to meet someone who you didn’t convert with your secret recipe.

Maybe Dieter Bravo would be the first.

‘It smells funny.’

You snort as you cut up butter into cubes. ‘You haven’t washed that robe in weeks and you think this smells funny?’

He picks up the recipe for the pudding and reads in mock horror, ‘Raisins, prunes, currants soaked in stout for 24 hours?’

You roll your eyes. ‘Drop the puritan act, Bravo. You’ve definitely been soaked in much worse for much longer.’

He continues, ignoring your jab. ‘The pudding can be stored for up to two years in a cool, dry place. What the fuck is this witchcraft cake, sweetheart?’

Measuring out icing sugar, you answer, ‘It’s a traditional British Christmas dessert. It’s delicious.’

‘But we’re not British,’ he protests. ‘Why can’t we have some nice, normal pecan pie or something?’

Grabbing the ingredients, you move around the kitchen counter towards the standing mixer that you brought with you when you moved in. ‘You can, if you make it. But you’re not, and I love Christmas pudding, so stop complaining.’

He follows hot on your heels, craning over your shoulder as you start beating the sugar into the butter. ‘Whatcha making?’

‘Brandy butter,’ you reply, tipping in a generous pour of said alcohol into the mixture. ‘It’s like frosting, but with lots of brandy.’

Dieter hums appreciatively, palms finding your waist. ‘Now that I can get on board with.’

You turn off the mixer to do a taste test, smacking your lips as you lick the brandy butter off the spoon. It’s delicious, sweet and smooth but the alcohol cuts through the richness - it will go perfectly with the sticky and dense Christmas pudding.

Dieter follows suit, scooping a greedy dollop of brandy butter with two fingers which disappear into his mouth. When he swallows, he unleashes a moan so guttural that it would make a porn star blush.

‘It’s good, but it’s not that good,’ you chide his over-the-top dramatics, and smack him on the back of his hand when he makes to dive into the mixing bowl again. ‘No double dipping, Bravo.’

His grin turns filthy instantly, the wolvishness that curls the corner of his lips never fails to set your pulse racing. Grabbing you by the ass, he whines into your neck, ‘But sweetheart, you love it when I double dip into your sweet, tight -’

‘Dieter -’ You cut in, but you can’t help the waver in your voice when the same two fingers that were in his mouth just now, still warm from his tongue, trail under the elastic band of your sweatpants.

You can hear the smirk in his voice when he asks, ‘How about a little Christmas present to kick the day off, sweetheart?’

His fingertips catch on your skin - with remnants of sugar from the brandy butter and dried spit - as they slide into your panties, running through the thatch of hair before finding your clit, making you cry out as he chuckles into your ear.

‘Who’s been a good girl this year?’ he teases.

Your scoff at the unoriginal innuendo careens off into a moan when he makes his way through your quickly dampening folds. ‘Really? Santa jokes?’

‘Don’t be such a grinch, sweetheart,’ he mock-admonishes you, dipping the tip of his middle finger into your wet pussy, groaning at what he finds. ‘It’s obviously working on you.’

‘Fuck,’ you bite out when he hastily shoves your pants down and sinks one thick digit in all the way down to the knuckle. Bracing yourself on the marble-top surface, you suddenly realise it’s probably time to top up the water in the pan for the Christmas pudding. ‘Wait, Dieter - I need to check on the pudding -’

‘Uh-uh,’ tuts Dieter, spinning you around and easily hoisting you onto an empty spot on the kitchen counter, the cold surface under your bare ass making you shiver. ‘Not until you cum on my hand, baby.’

‘It’ll burn!’ your protest trails off into a desperate whine when he starts pumping in and out of you, dropping his gaze to watch as your cunt slicks up his finger.

‘Then you better cum quick,’ he retorts in a cocky challenge. ‘Although, on second thought, I wouldn’t mind if it did burn.’

He slows his movements deliberately, but you shake your head, rolling your hips in chase. ‘Oh no, you won’t win, Dieter Bravo.’

He presses a messy kiss to your lips. ‘You’re so sexy when you’re competitive, baby.’

‘One more finger,’ you demand, swiping your tongue into his mouth as you push your hands into his unruly curls.

‘I thought you said no double dipping,’ he taunts against your lips, clearly having been waiting for the chance to drop that line.

‘Oh, shut up,’ you grumble with ill-concealed affection. He doesn’t deny you, and your teeth catch your bottom lip when you push back onto his hand shamelessly. ‘I want to touch you.’

Dieter doesn’t need to be told twice, untying the drawstring of his sweats and pushing them down to free his already hard cock. You wrap your palm around his erection, your wrist slack as you stroke him in an unforgiving rhythm that has him stuttering curses into the crook of your neck.

When he pushes you backwards to find your clit with his fingertips, you brace one foot on a kitchen stool, which lends you the leverage to start moving freely.

‘Ride my fingers, that’s a good girl,’ he croons while he watches you impale yourself on him, your grip around his length tightening at the same time he draws quicker circles on your clit. ‘That’s it, sweetheart, come on -’

Your back arches as you snap, your orgasm ripping hot and fast through you. Dieter grins, mouthing at your sensitive neck and scraping his teeth behind your ear, leaving you slumping bonelessly against his side.

With a low chuckle at your wrecked state, Dieter gently dislodges your palm to take himself in hand, jaw twitching as he rushes headlong into his own high. Pulling out of your heat, he holds you obscenely wide, and with a hoarse shout, he spurts thickly onto your pussy splayed open beneath him, his cum dripping like white honey through your folds and onto the countertop.

Smearing one finger through his mess, you gasp when he pushes it into your still sensitive pussy, winking as he draws it out to suck it clean. He declares, ‘Tastes even better than your brandy butter if you asked me, sweetheart.’

Despite your negligence, the Christmas pudding survives unscathed - much to Dieter’s dismay.

It’s the first time all of you are under the same roof since Resurgence ended, and it’s a merry affair. Dieter and Pete won’t stop crooning reunited and it feels so good to each other like idiots, you and Ana scoff at their antics affectionately while you catch up on the last few months.

Rebecca and Hank are in fine form, their beautiful house decorated to the nines. You finally meet their daughter, Coco, and the family cat Crookshanks. Everyone helps out - laying out the silverware, pouring the champagne and putting presents under the outrageously decked out ten-foot Christmas pine. The lights of Hollywood Hills twinkle outside the floor-to-ceiling windows beyond the infinity pool, as dusk falls and candles are lit all around the intimate dining room.

Dinner is delicious. The hosts made turkey, stuffing and an assortment of delicious sides, Ana cooked potatoes three ways, and Pete brought plenty of wine that flows liberally as the dishes go around the table for seconds, thirds and fourths.

It’s your first big holiday together as a couple - the teasing, marriage jokes and third degree are expected, and Pete doesn’t disappoint.

With the food winding down but glasses tirelessly topped up, he clamours for a reenactment of the reunion on the boat in Italy, insisting that he plays the part of Constance to make up for the fact that he missed the event. That’s how Pete and Dieter end up on the first landing on the stairs which overlooks the dining space, trying to recreate the scene where you caught him and Constance and realised that it was all a ruse.

Trying being the keyword. They’re mostly knocking back wine while arguing about the details.

‘No, no, I’m 100% sure Ana was there as well the exact moment she figured out that you guys were faking it,’ insists Pete, wagging his finger sagely.

‘How would you know, you weren’t even there, Pete!’ you heckle.

‘Pete, if you decide to try your hand in acting, you know where to find representation. You make such a convincing Constance,’ Rebecca jokes.

You think you’ve gotten away with the worst of it by the time you help clear the table and Pete gets distracted by the dessert coming out of the kitchen. Your defences are down, leaving yourself vulnerable to ambush -

You just didn’t expect it from Rebecca and Hank’s thirteen-year-old.

Coco is her mother’s daughter. Whip smart and taking after her mum’s striking looks, she has far more self-assuredness than you did at her tender age. The way she discreetly weighs you up is the same way Rebecca assessed you all those months ago when you first met in the doorway of your hotel room.

The teenager waits until everyone is sloshing with wine to pounce. You’ve all moved to the living room where the fireplace is roaring, and the desserts are laid out on the coffee table. She’s curled up next to Dieter in front of the fire, Crookshanks - who not only has the name but also the looks to boot - draped across both their laps.

You’re in the middle of explaining Christmas pudding to the sceptics, which currently stands untouched, when she coolly calls you by your name and draws first blood.

‘So, are you and Uncle D living together?’

Surprised, you blink at the sudden change in conversation and stutter a reply, ‘Um - ahem, yes, Coco - yes, we are.’

‘He’s lived with a bunch of girls, you know,’ she informs you, crossing her arms.

‘All at once or at different times?’ you joke in an attempt to lighten the mood. Pete’s mouth is hanging open in both fascination and anxiety at the unfolding drama while Ana chews on her nails, eyes darting between you and the girl.

‘Coconuts,’ pipes up Dieter with a warning tilt to his tone.

She shrugs innocently. ‘What? Just making sure you’re on the same page. Mum always says communication makes or breaks a relationship.’

‘I appreciate that, and I do know he’s lived with other women before,’ you assure her. ‘We both have our histories.’

Seizing on your comment, she continues with her line of questioning. ‘So how many men have you lived with?’

‘Coco,’ raps Becks sternly from across the room. ‘That is not an appropriate question, young lady.’

You smile and shake your head. ‘It’s ok - I’ve just lived with one guy. We were engaged.’

‘What happened?’ she asks.

You reply truthfully, ‘We broke up a few years ago. Sometimes that’s the way things turn out.’

Coco taps on her chin thoughtfully, turning to Dieter. ‘How many times have you been engaged, Uncle D? I remember twice, at least. So that’s three failed engagements between the two of you -’

The cat yowls in protest when Dieter reaches over to squeeze Coco by the shoulders, a slightly uncomfortable grin on his lips. ‘Alright, what’s up with all the interest in math tonight, kiddo?’

She points out, ‘I don’t see any posts about her on your Instagram. You’ve never kept anything secret before. What’s different this time?’

Dieter turns to Becks, tossing up his hands in disbelief. ‘You let her use Instagram? She’s thirteen!’

Becks rolls her eyes fondly. ‘Am I really getting parenting advice from Dieter Bravo?’

Then, Coco turns to you and delivers the coup de grace. ‘So - do you love him?’

Before you can react, Pete chokes violently on his eggnog, gripping at the coffee table from his seat on the plush rug. Ana has to burp him like a baby while he cries, ‘Oh god, it’s coming up my nose! It burns!’

You’re so stunned that you still haven’t moved a muscle when Dieter jumps up, sending Crookshanks scampering off with a grumpy meow.

‘Ok that’s it,’ he pronounces and hauls Coco up by her armpits. ‘Off to bed now, young lady. Say good night!’

Coco protests as she’s dragged off, slipping and sliding on her Christmas socks on the marble floor, her voice petering out as they disappear up the stairs. ‘What the heck, Uncle D? They’re fair questions and you know it. Have you even asked them yourself -’

Glancing about in the awkward silence, Pete picks up a bottle of brandy from the table and shouts. ‘Shots!’

Three quarters of an hour later, Pete is lying prostrate, snoring on the couch. Ana is engaged in a tipsy philosophical debate with Rebecca, and Hank is drunk washing up in the kitchen.

You’re tucked into Dieter’s side while he munches on a slice of Christmas pudding with a generous helping of brandy butter. ‘I take it back, sweetheart. This is fucking delicious.’

‘It’s a cake soaked in alcohol, of course it is,’ you grin, which morphs into a yawn as you glance at your watch. ‘It’s late, I think we should try and get an Uber home.’

Becks speaks up from across the room. ‘You sure, guys? We have a couple of spare rooms upstairs.’

‘It’s fine, I think Pete needs it more than us,’ you quip, reaching over to poke at his prone form with your foot.

Ana waves from the floor. ‘See you later, love birds. Merry Christmas!’

Becks gets up and loops her arm through yours as she walks you to the door. ‘Sorry about Coco. She’s protective about her Uncle D, especially when it’s the first time he’s brought a woman home for Christmas in a while.’

You smile and pull her into a hug. ‘Please don’t apologise, your kid’s a feisty one and I know exactly who she got that from. Goodness knows he could use her in his corner,’ you add with a wink.

You shepherd Dieter into the waiting car. It’s easily the most expensive Uber ride you’ve ever taken, and you breathe a sigh of relief when Dieter’s house comes into view.

Home.

Somewhere between the Hollywood Hills and Sherman Oaks, Dieter passes out cold, drool puddling on the shoulder of his fuzzy brown coat as he dozes. You have to coax him out of the car and up into the bedroom, with him whining drunkenly the whole way, face buried in the back of your neck as he stumbles after you.

It’s a struggle to get him out of his clothes - perish the thought of getting him to brush his teeth - but at least he’s just the right level of drunk that has him snoring within moments of his head hitting the pillow. You breathe a sigh of relief when you climb in after him.

Dieter immediately shuffles into your warmth and blindly presses a kiss to you, which lands on the side of your nose. You huff a laugh, rearranging yourself so that your back is to his chest, his arms wound around your waist.

‘Not so tight, I’m stuffed,’ you grumble.

He obeys, but keeps the entire length of his body smooshed against you needily, the proximity muffling his words. ‘I do, you know.’

‘What?’ you hum.

The declaration is slurred with sleep as it brushes your ear, but the tone is emphatic. ‘Love you. I love you, sweetheart.’

You stop breathing.

Not that you haven’t wondered, silently turned it over in your mind over the past few months. But it’s two in the morning - you lost count at one glass of bubbles and three and a half of wine, and him many more. You swear you can taste brandy butter on his breath.

Before you can muddle through your jumbled thoughts, he mercifully slips into sleep.

And you mull over his words until you do too.

Your side of the bed is cold when he wakes up in the morning.

Dieter winces at the light, tempted to bury himself under the duvet, but something he can’t put his finger on has him sitting up, a groan on his lips as the world tilts dangerously on its axis.

That something nags at him as he slips on his robe, nips at his heels as his feet wriggle into furry slippers.

He stops abruptly by the bedroom door.

Shit. Did he tell you that he loves you last night?

The heating is on and the house is toasty, made even warmer with the smell of fresh coffee and sizzling butter from the open kitchen. You’re at the stove as he pads quietly towards you, and you don’t turn around when he snakes his arms around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder. ‘Morning, sweetheart.’

You hum noncommittally, but at least you’re relaxing into his embrace instead of pulling away, and Dieter breathes a sigh of relief.

He hasn’t scared you away. You’re still here.

‘I meant what I said last night,’ he blurts out impulsively.

He almost winces at his rashness. But he does, and he’s never been good at holding things back, especially things that he knows. He’s not going to take it back.

Without turning around, you say evenly, ‘Go sit down, Dieter.’

He stiffens instantly behind you, nails digging into the soft fabric of your dressing gown. Fuck. Fuck. You want him to sit down? Why?

Blindly, he lets go of you and stumbles over his feet to the kitchen counter, scrambling onto a stool. The hardwood floor suddenly feels like quicksand as he wobbles in his seat, sweaty palms pressed into the cool marble surface to anchor him. You take your time, your body giving away no hint of the same gravity that’s making his stomach drop while you flip over what smells like buttermilk pancakes.

When you finally turn around with the pan in your hands, Dieter holds his breath and watches you cross the kitchen to slide something into his plate, which lands with an emphatic thwack.

Eventually, he looks up at you with the biggest puppy eyes in utter confusion. He squeaks, ‘It’s a heart-shaped pancake.’

You smile at his befuddlement. ‘That’s right. Just like that heart-shaped pizza Lorenzo made for us in Italy.’

‘Is this one a prank too?’ he asks in a small voice.

Stepping in between his legs and winding your arms around his neck, you smile. ‘Unfortunately not. I actually love you, you idiot.’

You yelp when he tugs you fully into him, making you lose your footing as you laugh. And then he’s kissing you, fingers pushing into your hair, thumbs brushing your cheeks as he pulls back.

‘There isn’t a ring in the pancake, is there?’ he teases with a throwback to your reaction to the heart-shaped pizza all those months ago, wriggling his eyebrows.

‘You should be so lucky, Dieter Bravo,’ you echo his words back at him.

He grins. Some day, one day - maybe even in that same house that he’s been thinking of buying for the two of you, on the roof with the terracotta floor at sunset on a summer’s day, with his grandmother's ring in a heart-shaped pizza -

But for now, he swallows the lump in his throat, his warm eyes hold yours with a surety he feels deep in his bones as he murmurs against your lips, ‘I love you too, sweetheart.’

I never regretted holding off on this moment from the main series, and writing this in the months after Consent ended (which is about the same length of time for our two idiots in the story), I feel even more strongly about this. Thank you for the enthusiastic voting for this prompt and Christmas, I loved writing this moment for these two so much - they've definitely earned it.

I hope you all have the most wonderful Christmas ❤️

Also, thank you for these requests that I had so much fun working into this fic!

LJ @prolix-yuy: IF you do the Christmas fic, I would love to see which seasonal drink/food Dieter and our Intimacy Coordinator enjoy (especially if it's polarizing for each other - does Dieter like eggnog? Fruitcake? Something even weirder) No pressure to add, love you Cee!

Anon: Maybe you could work a cat in somewhere? 😉 Like maybe he ends up around someone who has a cat? He seems like he’d be really sweet with them. He just seems like a cat man to me. Even if he doesn’t know it yet. I could be wrong. That’s just my headcanon.

[prolix-yuy]

Bangathon 2024 Masterlist

Thank you to everyone that participated! Please enjoy the banging below.

Submissions are always open! Please tag @prolix-yuy and use the hashtag #bangathon2024 so I can add yours to the list!

Bangathon Homepage

Bear & Bee by @mabelisapunk (Frankie Morales x f!reader)

track 9 - the prophecy by @pedrito-friskito (Din Djarin x Fem!Reader)

Quite the Reunion by @crowandmousewritingco (Jack Daniels (Agent Whiskey) x transmasc!reader)

Phoenix Playing in a Red Cave by @boliv-jenta (Dieter Bravo x F!Reader)

Trying Something New by @missredherring (Lucien Flores x Fat F!Reader)

Bangathon prize fic coming soon!

[wildemaven]

Sweet Creature: Epilogue

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

WC: 1609

Warnings: 18+ Blog: p in v, established relationship, fluff, Dieter in distress, mentions of sobriety

Series Masterlist / Playlist / Main Masterlist

Previous

The morning light filters through the sheer curtains, a harsh reminder of how time is of the essence. 

A sheen of sweat drapes over your bodies, a give and take shared effort, bedsheets lost in the shuffle of positions and tangled limbs. 

“Yes, Dieter— Don’t stop! Please!” You whine. 

Your fingers digging into the bulge of his biceps, his arms flexed and teasing you, delicious eye candy from where you're situated below him. 

“Fuck! Poppy, I’m close— shit! You gotta help me out here babe, I’m gettin’ a fuckin’ cramp in my ass cheek.” His hips begin their signature staggering thrusts, signaling his climax is imminent. 

You snake your hand between your bodies, bypassing your tiny bundle of nerves, your fingers sliding through your spread folds, feeling the way his cock sinks into your pulsing cunt repeatedly. 

“Dammit, Poppy! Quit fucking around— fuckfuckfuck! I fucking love that you want to enjoy this, but I n-need you to come with m-me— ah!” His neck tensing as he tries to stave off his mind-blowing finale. 

It doesn’t take much, your fingers nimbly work in circles over your sensitive clit, triggering your cunt to seize up, building up a network of arousing tingles across your spine. 

The room is filled with a blend of explicits and desperate moans— both of you slingshotting over the edge in euphoric unison. 

His head rests on your chest, your rapid heart beat punching up against his ear as you try to regulate your breathing. 

Your fingers scratch at his scalp in a casual manner, his locks damp and clinging to your skin. 

“Happy 6 years sober babe!” You manage to breathe out. 

“Thank you.” Lifting his head, a kiss to your heart then a kiss to your awaiting lips. “I love you, Pops!”

“I love you, babe. What time is it?”

Dieter looks over to your side of the bed where your alarm clock sits on the nightstand. 

“It’s 7:35.”

“Shit! Oh fuck! Get up, I’m late!” You push his exhausted body, his softened cock slipping out of you as he rolls to his side, his cum dripping down your thighs as you scramble out of bed. 

Throwing open your closet door to grab clothes for the day, the clothes you had asked Dieter to throw into the dryer and put away are nowhere to be found. 

“Dieter— did you put those clothes in the dryer yesterday? I can’t find any of my clean work clothes.” Actively searching through every hanger and shelf, only spotting a few pairs of dirty slacks and blouses shoved into the laundry that didn’t make it into the wash. 

“Uh, no— definitely did not. Sorry, Wren and I got sidetracked making cookies and I must have forgotten.” He replies, still sprawled out and naked on the bed. 

“No— it’s fine. I’ll just wear casual clothes again, hopefully the ladies in the office keep their glaring to a minimum this time.” You give him a pointed look.

“What? You say that like this is a regular occurrence.” His hands shoot in defense. 

“That’s because it is, this is the fifth time just this month alone Dieter.” You say as you grab for the jeans and shirt that have been making a regular appearance over the last 5 years that you and Dieter have been together. 

“Well, I never hear you complaining in the moment.” He has a point. 

“Fuck! I don’t have time for a shower either, you're going to be dripping out of me all day!” Using a dirty shirt to wipe up Dieter’s spend that’s smeared between your legs. 

“Not gonna lie, that’s fucking hot—“ The shirt you had used to clean yourself flies across the room and hits him in the face. 

“They should do away with a teacher uniform all together, seems very not with the times to require adults to wear stuffy clothes when they’re dealing with kids all day. Bring that up at your next meeting.” He suggests, pulling the cum covered shirt away from his face, giving it a quick experimental sniff before tossing onto the pile of bedsheets on the floor.

“Yeah, I’ll make sure to bring that up at the next meeting.” You laugh, but you can’t help but agree with him. 

It’s a mad dash to pull yourself together, but you manage to look like you didn’t just get fucked to pieces. 

“Alright, I gotta go— I love you.” Crawling back on to the bed to give him a goodbye kiss. 

“Love you.” He moans as he tries to deepen the kiss. 

“Oh my god! You’re the worst Dieter! I’ve got to go.” 

“Wash your dick today, it was smelling a little musty earlier.” You yell back down the hall, before heading out the door. 

“Really?” Dieter says to himself, looking down at said dick laying flaccid over his thigh. 

*

As predicted, the glares were on display as you walked onto the school grounds, bypassing a stop at the teachers lounge for the comfort of your classroom— you decide the whispered snickers between the office ladies were not high up on your ‘things I want to deal with today.’

Despite your lateness, students must have sensed your off kilter presence and were on top of their responsibilities of reading and writing while you sifted through your daily lesson plans. 

To your surprise, you had managed to forget to make copies yesterday for 3 worksheets needed after the students were done with printing their weekly words. 

There’s a light knock on your open classroom door that grabs your attention. 

Standing in the doorway is Dieter, with two coffees in hand. 

“Hey! What are you doing here?” You ask, knowing at least one of the coffees he’s holding is for you. 

“Figured, since I was partly to blame for your tardiness, I thought I’d try and make it up to you.” Giving you his best puppy dog eyes, holding up both coffees in your direction. 

“Two?! Oh my god, I love you!” Grabbing for both of them, giving each cup a glance over to see his cute little notes perfectly placed on the sides of both—- setting them on your desk then returning to where he’s still standing by the door. 

“Are you busy?” You ask, looking over your shoulder to double check your students are still working on their assignments. 

“No, I’m free today. I’ve got the new girl running the gallery on her own, so far no calls of distress.”

Dieter’s hand reaches out taking hold of your fingers, his thumb running over the tops of your knuckles. He tilts his head forward to look at you over the frames of his sunglasses. 

“You need something from me?” His eyebrows waggling at you. 

“Actually, yes!”

His smile grows nearly ten times. 

“I need to make some copies, you think you can watch them for me?” 

Your idea of needing something was not what he had in mind, but he’s more than willing to help you out. 

“Yeah, I got them. Go do your teacher things, I’ve got this handled.” 

*

It takes you no longer than 5 minutes to head straight to the office and make your copies, avoiding every side-eyed glance shot in your direction. 

60 sheets of freshly printed worksheets, warm and neatly stacked in hand, you make your way back to Dieter and your students. 

You can hear Dieter’s boisterous voice as you walk closer to the classroom, taking a minute to watch from outside the door. 

All 20 kids seem less than entertained by him, deadpan stares and little to no excitement— it could be worse and they could be like last year's students who convinced him you let them go to break early, coming back to an empty classroom was heart attack inducing and thankfully no one picked up on the random man with a group of kids chasing each other in the soccer field. 

A hand in the back of the class gingerly raises. 

“Yes, kid in the back— you don’t happen to have a brother with a weird haircut, do you?” His eyes narrowed as he sees a slight resemblance in the hair department to a past student of yours. 

“I don’t have a brother.” 

“Huh, weird coincidence then. What’s your question?”

“Why do you wear your sunglasses inside if there’s no sun?” 

Your hand comes up to muffle you laugh, but Dieter catches the snort that emits from your nose. 

“That’s enough questions for the day.” He retorts quickly, then makes his way to where you’re still standing outside. 

“Okay class, go ahead and pull out a sharp pencil,  I’ll be there in a minute so we can do our math test.” 

You lean back against the wall, taking in Dieter’s defeated demeanor. 

“This class isn’t as fun as your previous ones, those kids in there are ruthless. They refused to call me Uncle Dude too— You need to get a new class stat.” He points in the direction of your students, completely flustered by the fact that not one of them found him fun. 

“If I remember correctly, didn’t you play a teacher once?” You sarcastically ask him. 

“That’s enough outta you.” He smirks, crowding you against the wall, giving you a less than appropriate kiss for school grounds— you welcome it fully.

A passing teacher clears their throat at the sight of Dieter and you, prompting him to pull away and rest his forehead on yours. 

“Thanks for watching them for me, and thanks for the coffee. I’ll see you later Uncle Dude.” 

Dieter leans in one last time, a kiss for the road. 

“I’ll see you at home, Mrs. Bravo.”

A/N: Thank you all for this amazing journey with Dieter and Poppy!! I’m going to miss them so so much!! But, I do have a few one shots already planned, and blind drabbles for them. I can’t thank @gnpwdrnwhiskey enough for diving into every chapter with me and being the most amazing beta to ensure everything was right for these two!! My ‘Asks’ are always open if you ever want to chat or scream about the series, Dieter and Poppy or anything else! Xx

[ryuzakemo128]

Thinking about a goth professional mma fighter with either Dieter Bravo. Cause why not?

I find it interesting it to think about. You have Dieter Bravo, the flamboyant actor and then the dark, gritty, sardonic, philosophical goth professional mma fighter.

In my head it sounds both absolutely ridiculous and fucking great at the same time.

If anyone wants to throw around more ideas for this? Please message me-