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whocaresstillthelouvre · 1 month ago

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Do You Wanna Touch Me?

Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) Pairing: Marcus Pike x Sex Worker Female Reader Words Count: 4,200 Summary: After getting his heart broken, Marcus Pike takes an assignment in Amsterdam. What started as an exploration of the red light district turns into choosing you, the most beautiful art he's ever seen. Warnings: sex work, erotic dancing, hand job, masturbation, fingering, oral (m receiving), reader wears makeup and a dress, marcus tries to escape his heartbreak, van gogh mentions, reader is college aged, dieter bravo exists in this universe

A/N: This was written for @baronessvonglitter's Fuck-tober birthday celebration. I was assigned Marcus Pike and "Do You Wanna Touch Me" by Joan Jett. Happy birthday Adriana!!! 💕

Here are the songs I refer to in the fic: “Do You Wanna Touch Me” by Joan Jett “Bed Chem” by Sabrina Carpenter “Streets” by Doja Cat “God Is A Woman” by Ariana Grande “Cinema” by Harry Styles “The Night Me and Your Mama Met” by Childish Gambino Masterlist

---

Marcus doesn’t do things like this. He’s a good man, a good son, a good brother, a good friend, and most of all, a good agent. And yet, he still walks down the cobblestone street that’s bathed in red lights.

LIVE SEX SHOW SEX TOYS SEX PALACE HIGH TIMES

What in the world is he doing here? Curiosity, loneliness, being so fucking horny he can’t focus on the case ahead. You’re a good man he tells himself as he ventures deeper into the crimson alleys, the shadow of shame following closely behind him.

“Hey handsome. Today’s your lucky day.” A blonde man winks, handing him a gilded envelope. “You’re invited to Galerij.”

Marcus blinks down at the golden envelope, looking up to find the blonde stranger already gone from his sight. He opens the envelope, revealing a simple invitation with gold embossed text.

Galerij, Amsterdam’s hottest art pieces. €400

He’s a damn FBI agent, and yet he’s too intrigued and desperate for a distraction to say no. He should know better, his badge weighs heavily in his pocket. He plugs the address into his phone with a sigh and makes the quick walk to the address listed, silently atoning for his sins as he passes the Oude Kerk church. He doesn’t dare make eye contact with any of the police officers situated, they might sense his shame.

“You’ve arrived at your destination,” the robotic voice intones. He looks up at the plain brick row home that stands out amongst the surrounding buildings covered in neon lights with windows full of girls in different levels of undress.

A small gold sign hangs above the unassuming black door. GALERIJ

He inhales deeply and pushes the door open. A bell jingles. Inside, an older looking woman with slicked-back blonde hair and a sharp black suit sits behind a desk.

“Nederlands or English?” she asks, her tone clipped.

“English,” he answers, his throat tight. “Please.”

“Invitation?”

“Oh, uh, here,” he hands her the invitation.

Without any more acknowledgment, she gestures to a black leather chair near an intricately carved golden door. “Please take a seat.”

A bit of trepidation blooms within him as he sits down, but when he looks around, he realizes that this isn’t some seedy back-alley brothel. It can’t be that bad if the walls are covered in mahogany and the floor is marble.

The woman makes a quick phone call, speaking in a hushed voice. His palms grow sweaty. What the hell is he doing? This was supposed to be a quick exploration of something that’s always fascinated him… legal vices. Yet now, he's gripping the armrests as the same stern woman brings over a clipboard and card machine.

“Cash or charge?”

“Oh, cash?” he replies quickly, fumbling for his wallet. There’s no way he’s going to use a credit card around here, too many chances of his secret adventure getting revealed on a statement.

“400 euros.”

He opens his wallet and unfolds his money. 100, what are you doing? 200, what are you doing? 300, Marcus, seriously, what are you doing? 350, no seriously what are you doing? 400, damn, you’re really doing it.

Stern woman takes the money and hands him a gold pin with a simple G etched onto it. She hits a small gold bell on her desk, a singular ring sharply echoes across the small room.

He pins the pin to his chest, reminding him of all the times he used to pin the old Met Museum badge to his lapel when he was a young college student in New York. This is so much more different than that, he reminds himself.

The golden door opens after a moment.

A beautiful older woman in a dark burgundy skirt and matching jacket walks out with a smile lifting her dark red lips.

“Welcome to Galerij. I am Maud, the curator.” she greets, offering her hand. “What would you like us to call you here?”

He rises and shakes her hand.

Can’t do Marcus, can’t do Pike, can’t do Agent. He thinks of that one actor everyone tells him he looks like. “Uh–Bravo.”

“Very well, Bravo,” she opens the door, moving aside allowing him to walk through. “Welcome to Galerij.”

He steps into a stark white room. The floor is shiny concrete, a singular white table with two white wishbone chairs sit in the middle of the room, a stark contrast to the entrance room on the other side of the wall. Not exactly what he was expecting. The agent in him can’t help but think this would be a perfect place to kill somebody.

Maud motions for him to sit across from her. “Here you will make your decision on what piece you’d like. Gay or straight?”

He sits down, her question is a reminder as to why he’s really here. “Straight,” he answers, his nerves beginning to creep around him.

She nods. “All of our pieces are tested, clean, and practice safe sex. Your piece will tell you what they will and won’t do once you make your choice. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“You will have twenty minutes, your time will start once you enter your gallery. A bell will ring every five minutes, your final bell will ring twice symbolizing your last five minutes. Do not be late. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Of course no photos or recordings. We ask you to not even have your phone out. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Are you ready?” she asks with a smile on her face.

“I am,” he answers. His heart is pounding.

She nods and presses a button, a shrill buzz echoes through the room. A hidden door opens and a large muscle and tattoo clad man with buzzed black hair and a nose ring walks out carrying a red velvet-covered book. He hands it to Maud, before standing behind her like a silent guardian.

His heart races faster than he ever thought it could when she opens the book and pushes it towards him.

GALERIJ with the day's date is stamped on the thick page.

His fingers tremble as he flips to the first page revealing a photo of an olive skinned and brown haired woman clad in dark blue lingerie with delicate yellow stars embroidered all over it lying on top of swirled silky blue sheets. She’s absolutely stunning.

“This is The Starry Night.”

He nods, turning the page.

A pale skinned, petite woman with shockingly white blonde hair wears a light blue bra and lace panties while laying atop white flower petals. She’s just as beautiful as the first woman.

“This is Almond Blossom.”

He turns the page.

A dark skinned, dark haired woman sits against a yellow wall wearing two sunflower blooms over her ample chest. Her smile is wide, just like her eyes lined with bright gold glitter. She’s gorgeous

“This is Sunflowers.”

They all look like they just walked off the runway, all beautiful and alluring. He wonders what–or who–the next piece will be. He smiles to himself when he realizes they’re all named after Van Gogh. Of course he’d find himself in an art themed brothel… he just can’t escape work.

“Before you see my fourth piece, please know she’s a little different. You cannot touch her, only watch. Don’t let that sway your decision, she is our most popular piece.”

He braces himself as he turns the page.

He loses his breath when he sees you. There you are, sitting cross-legged against the same color wall as Sunflowers. He can just see a glimpse of your nipples under your sheer indigo bra. Your green lined eyes leer at the camera. He thanks all the stars in Starry Night for his chance to even get a look at you. He’s lost in time at how your skin glows against the golden wall.

“Wow,” he breathes out.

“I believe you made your decision,” Maud says with a knowing smile. “This is Irises.”

“Yes,” Marcus swallows, his throat suddenly dry. “Irises please.”

She nods and closes the book. “Pieter, let Irises know.”

“Okay Bravo,” Maud says with a smile and stands. “Pieter will come and get you when Irises is ready. Please do enjoy my gallery.”

“Thank you Maud,” he says, wiping his sweaty hands against the fabric of his jeans.

The fading sound of Maud and Pieter’s steps and a door closing leaves him all alone in the sparse room.

He hopes he looks good enough for you. His dark blue jeans are presentable enough, his plain gray v neck is clean, he thanks himself for spritzing himself with a dash of cologne before leaving his hotel. He knows he paid the equivalent of close to $450 for you to like him, but he still wants to impress you.

He checks his watch, five minutes have passed. He’s too afraid to bring his phone out, so he just stares forward, nervously tapping his foot.

This wasn’t his plan at all, he was just going to explore and sightsee, nothing more. No drugs, no sex, just curiosity.

The door opens. Pieter appears.

“Irises is ready,” he announces, his accent thick. “Follow me.”

He tentatively trails Pieter through the door walking down a hallway lined with doors. Ornate golden frames hang with Van Gogh pieces in each one. They reach the door with Irises hung next to it.

“Twenty minutes,” Pieter says flatly, opening the door. “Sit in the chair. Do not touch. You watch.”

Marcus nods, his heart slamming against his chest. His knees almost buckle as he steps inside the room.

It’s dark, save for a single spotlight shining down on a small stage, a lone purple velvet high back chair sits waiting for him in the middle of it. His shaky legs take him up the three steps before he lowers into it, hands clenching the wide armrests, trying to control his breathing.

He shouldn't be here–-he knows that. It’s too late for regrets now.

The click-clack of your heels echoes through the room when you step onto the stage. He’s too nervous to turn his head to see you. His body tenses, anticipation coiling all of his muscles tight. When you finally step in front of him, he has to remind himself to breathe.

You’re beautiful, the light catches on the sheer fabric of your dress. He can just make out the curves of your body, naked under light lavender chiffon. Your eyes are lined with deep purple eyeliner, ending into a cat eye at the corners. Your ruby red lips curl up into a knowing smile, almost as if you can see his desire for you.

Four thousand miles away from home and he’s just found the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on. His cock begins to thicken, the shame of his paid for voyeurism adventure dissolving from his mind. You’re finer than any masterpiece he’s ever had to investigate.

“Hi Bravo,” you purr, your voice smooth and teasing, “Do you wanna touch me?”

He nods and coughs nervously. “Y-yes. But, I can’t.”

A slow, knowing smile spreads across your lips. “Good boy.”

His back tightens, a wave of heat flows down his spine and settles in his lap. For too long he’s disallowed himself from feeling this type of pleasure. Too busy, too sad, too heartbroken. What led him here feels like a blur. An exchange of glances, a subtle wink, an invitation. The black door, €400 out of his wallet, a white room, an open red velvet book, the long hallway, Irises. He allows himself to enjoy the experience just as you send him a wink.

You’re like his own little gallery show standing in front of him. A piece of art he doesn’t just want to see–but memorize.

—

You’ve only been doing this for a few months now. It really is the perfect side hustle to support yourself while finishing your art degree. You’ve been enamored with Van Gogh’s art since you were a child, a lifelong dream realized when you were accepted into the student exchange program at the University of Amsterdam. You made it possible, and now, working two nights a week in between coursework, you're making more than most of your friends earn in an entire week. Of course, only a select few know what you really mean when you say you work at a very exclusive gallery.

It’s a good job. Maud takes good care of you, vetting those who enter her establishment with her keen client recruiters on the streets. Pieter is always a buzz away, though you’ve never felt danger. Everyone needs an escape, some just agree to pay a premium for it. They call it the oldest profession for a reason.

Bravo. He’s your last customer tonight, and they sure did save the best for last. You watched him approach on the security camera, a smile formed when you noticed how much he resembled your favorite actor, you had plans for him. His wide shoulders, broad body, thin beard, and perfect head of hair almost made you think it was him, if it wasn’t for his eyes flickering around the room nervously. There’s no way Dieter Bravo would be anxious in this type of situation.

You press play on the stereo. A quick drumbeat starts, your steps keep tempo with it as you come back to stand in front of your client.

Turning around and bending over, your hips dance to the beat of the song as your hands roam along your curves, lifting your dress to give him a peek of your thighs and ass. A low groan rumbles behind you.

“Do you like what you see?” you ask, slowly turning to face him, moving your hands up and down your body.

“Y-yes,” he stammers, his nervous eyes wide and plush lips parted.

Those same nervous eyes watch as you bunch the fabric of your dress up and take it off, tossing it aside. He eyes you, brows furrowed in concentration, eyes exploring all of you like you’re a painting hanging in a gallery.

You cup your breasts, feeling the velvety warmth of your skin beneath your fingers as the purple of your nail polish brushes against your hardened nipples. Slowly you tilt your head down and let a trail of spit fall to one nipple.

“Do you wanna touch me?” you ask, pinching and pulling the sensitive peaks of your nipples. “Mmph–mmhmm,” he groans, nervously shuffling in his seat.

Bending forward and placing your hands on his knees gives him the perfect view of your breasts. A long sigh comes from him, his eyes planted on your tits. You like what you’re doing to him, you never start your dances off this close to a client, but you can’t resist him.

When your hands trail up to his thick thighs, the bulge of his pants makes your mouth water, tempting you to move towards it. Not yet.

Leaning closer, you nuzzle against the warmth of his neck. He smells delicious… like eucalyptus and maple syrup. His quickening breaths puff out against your hair. You taste his skin with your tongue, licking your way up to his ear.

“Do you wanna touch me?” you ask along with the song.

“Y-yeah,” he stutters.

Pulling away, you wink before turning your back to him and delicately sit atop his lap. Sinking down against his broad chest, the heat radiating off him burns hot against your back. The song changes just as you feel the poke of his erection against your ass.

A poppy beat soundtracks your movements as you grind yourself against the heft of him, falling back, placing your head against his wide chest. Reaching back, your hands tangle in his soft hair, humming sweetly along to the sound, letting a few lyrics slip out of your mouth.

“I bet you we’d really have good bed chem”

Your client follows directions very well, staying perfectly still, gripping the armrests so hard the golden skin around his knuckles turn white. You rub yourself against the rough fabric of his jeans, getting off on the quiet whimpers he leaves in your ear.

RING. The fifteen minute bell rings.

“And I bet it’s even better than in my head”

You rise off his lap and bend over clasping your hands around your ankles, giving him the perfect view of your ass and dripping core. The song fades out, a deeper, sultrier drumbeat begins.

“Like you, like you, ooh, I found it hard to find someone like you”

Your body gently sways along to the slow, sultry beat, and when you flip your head back to glance at him, he lets a low groan out. Placing your hands on the floor, you walk them out ahead of you before you’re on all fours, spreading your legs wide to show him even more of your glistening pussy.

“Do you wanna touch me?” you ask, settling on your stomach, snaking a hand between your wide spread legs.

“Y-yes,” he huffs.

“I know you do Bravo,” you tilt your hips up hovering them above the ground, “let me show you how I like it.”

Your middle finger enters your soaked entrance as your thumb gently dusts light circles against your clit. Your hips move in beat to the heavy rhythm of the song.

“Oh god,” he pants, when you stick another finger in, the chair creaking underneath his tensity.

RING. The ten minute bell rings.

Choreography, that’s the business term for what you’re doing. It’s all timed out, you hear these songs at least ten times every work day. Though you never sit on your clients as close as you did with Bravo, you never taste their skin like you did with Bravo. He deserves more than the same memorized steps, something better than the repetition you offer all of the others.

The song changes, signaling you to start your new routine, you ignore the cue, rolling onto your back, arching slightly, your eyes meet his. His hands remain clamped on to the armrests, fingers digging into the velvet. He’s trembling with restraint, beads of sweat glistening on his skin. His erection swells, the tight fabric of his pants tenting.

“Do you wanna touch me Bravo?”

“I do,” he whines, the lines of his neck straining as his head thuds against the back of the chair.

“Okay, okay baby,” you sit up, turning to crawl towards him. Your eyes don’t leave his.

“And I can be all the things you told me not to be

When you try to come for me, I keep on flourishing”

Kneeling on your knees in front of him, you unlock one of his clutched hands, moving it to the soft skin of your breast.

“N-no touching I thought,” he stammers, his hand laying flat against your skin.

“I make my own rules, it’s okay Bravo,” you allow, grabbing his other hand and placing it on you.

He groans when he cups your breasts in his hands. You watch the tendons of his strong hand tense and release as he cups your breasts and massages them in his hold. He’s mesmerized by his movements, like he can’t believe you’re allowing him to touch you.

Your hand teases its way up his leg to the warmth of the apex of his thighs before gripping him, thick and hard underneath the constraints of his jeans.

“Oh fuck,” he growls. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. You’re so beautiful.”

His words of adoration fall out of his mouth, eyes still locked on your tits covered by his hands.

You unbuckle his belt, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans as the choir sings God is a woman.

The song changes.

“You got, you got the cinema”

Your eyes light at the sight of his cock, standing tall and thick, precum leaking from the engorged tip. It’s just as beautiful and wide as the rest of your client.

Bravo lets out a garbled groan when you wrap your hand around his length, slowly pumping him along to the song. Up, down, up, down, the sexy beat soundtracking your movements.

RING. RING. The five minute bell rings. Your client doesn’t seem to heed the warning, only focusing on his thumbs swiping back and forth against the peaks of your nipples and your hand stroking the smooth silk of his cock.

“Touch me Bravo,” you rise, lifting a foot up on the armrest, keeping hold of his pulsing dick in your hand. “Give me two of your fingers.”

His eyes gaze down to your dripping cunt, watching himself as his hand sweeps down your body before parting your folds.

You got, you got the cinema

Your hips undulate to the tempo of the song as he sticks two of his long, thick fingers into your heat.

“God damn,” he mutters incredulously, “you’re so wet.”

The song changes.

A steady and slow funky guitar plays along with a soulful choir. It’s soft and romantic, exactly what you like to close down your shows with. You’ve never ended a show like this, your hand wrapped around your client’s wide cock, and your pussy clenching around two of his thick fingers. His thumb begins sweeping back and forth against your clit, he may have found himself at a brothel in Amsterdam, but your client has done this before. Perfect movements, perfect angle, you stare down in reverie at the focus he holds, watching himself touch you. His adoration of your body heats your core, lighting an orgasm just as beautiful as the song that plays.

“Fuck baby,” you pant, “I’m gonna cum.”

He blinks up to you, brown eyes staring intensely into yours when you bite your lip and send a gush of wet against his fingers. Your legs turn shaky, as your clit pulses against his thumb that blesses your sensitive bub with just the right amount of pressure. Moving his hand from between your thighs, he holds it up, marveling at the sight of your juices shining against his skin. You send him a smile as your leg drops to the floor, the rest of your body following, kneeling in front of him. He still stares at his hand, watching the strings of your orgasm stretch across his widely spread fingers.

“Smear it on your cock for me,” you say, planting both hands on his thighs.

He groans and nods before rubbing the remnants of your orgasm on his shaft. He shouts an indistinguishable sound when you lick a line up to his tip, tasting yourself and the salty tang of his precum. Your lips envelop the fat tip of him, sucking and slobbering your way down the thick length of him.

The song ends, the playlist repeats. The same quick drumbeat of the first song plays loudly.

You suck him to the beat, flicking your tongue against his tip with each “YEAH!” of the song.

RING. RING. RING. The final bells ring, signaling that your client should have left by now.

Bravo locks up. Your mouth unclasps from his cock.

“It’s okay,” you assure, “we have a word for–”

A heavy knock lands against the door.

“Driehoek (triangle) Pieter! I’m good in here, thanks!”

Three rapid knocks–softer now–signal Pieter’s departure.

“You guys really have it all fig–oh god,” he moans, when you take his cock back into your mouth.

His strong legs shake against your body as your cheeks hollow, taking him into your mouth faster and harder, his hips thrusting up to meet your mouth. Drool leaks out of the sides of your mouth, your eyes stare up at him blinking back tears as he reaches the back of your throat. You don’t know if he’s ever allowed himself this much freedom, it feels like you’ve unlocked something deep within him with the way he’s snarling and grunting “Irises” over and over.

“G-gonna–yeah–yeah–cum,” he gasps, hips stuttering and chair creaking as he spills into your accepting mouth.

Bravo, client. Bravo.

—

He can’t believe he just did that. He just–he–he just– came in the mouth of a complete stranger–nay–a prostitute. You told him you’ve never done something like that with a client as you tossed him a towel… and the funny thing is he actually believes you.

You shuffle back into the see through lilac dress as he zips his jeans back up. You really are the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, even if your purple eyeliner is now streaked from the tears that sprung in your eyes from gagging on his cock. Wow, that did just happen.

You leave a kiss against his cheek and open the door for him. Pieter escorts him out the back entrance with a knowing smile.

He walks back to his hotel, a new man with a clearer mind. Marcus really doesn’t feel the shame he expected he would. He knows a fine piece of art, and you just might be the finest he’s ever seen.

#marcus pike #pedro pascal #marcus pike smut #marcus pike fan fic #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #fucktober #birthdaybaroness #pedro pascal fanfic

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for-a-longlongtime · 21 days ago

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Coming

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x non-binary!afab!reader Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, MDNI. 🏳️‍🌈 Warnings/tags: Reader is nonbinary + AFAB (assigned female at birth), no pronouns are used, limited descriptions of body and none of skintone/race (reader has a clit, gets wet when aroused - no further genitalia references -, has hair that can be tugged), is called 'baby' several times by Dieter. Light recreational use of cannabis (vaping), shotgunning, fingering, oral (m receiving), intercourse. Bossy Dieter. Word count: 2.2K A/N: There was no functioning brain behind this (and only a quick editing round) - just a whole bunch of PWP. And, well, the way that the expression in the top right gif (by @arcanefox207!) reminded me so much of that Dieter gif on the left... This one is for my non-binary babes, especially for @sp00kymulderr! Edit: I just realized this is my first Dieter fic, I hope I did justice to him!

main masterlist | read on AO3

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Dieter looks fucking incredible - and he knows it.

“You’re staring, baby,” he says teasingly as he catches your eye in the mirror.

He’s right; you’re unabashedly admiring him, even with the shitty dressing room lights, as he just finished putting on his outfit. ‘One last day of shoots for Cliff Beast, and we can right away record a bunch of promo as well,’ the director had promised, and those had been the magic words - it was no secret how much Dieter hated promoting this movie. So get it all done at once? Sold.

You purse your lips slightly as you try to hide your smile. “It doesn’t look terrible on you,” is the most you’re willing to admit, fully aware that just might be the understatement of the century. Light colors look so good against his skin, especially when he’s got this summer tan still going, and the new stylist had picked out a great outfit. Add his charisma and surprisingly good mood to it, and it was clear he is going to nail this shoot.

That is, if you would even let him leave the dressing room.

“Not terrible?” He raises an eyebrow as he grabs his vape, wandering over to you as he takes a deep hit. “Bullshit. Saw you checking out my dick.”

“Nope. I was looking at your outfit, and the pants are just part of that.”

“You’re such a shit liar.” His grin widens, and he takes another hit before he leans in, tipping your chin up slightly so you look at him - asking you for permission. You nod as your part your lips for him, then inhale the smoke he gently blows at you to share his buzz.

“You were totally touching yourself,” you mumble as you run your hands over his chest, and his eyes sparkle as he takes another hit and shares it with you. “Show off.”

“Voyeur.”

“Cock tease.”

He laughs softly as as he sits down on the couch, leaning back casually and comfortably as always. Like he’s in his ratty pajama pants and a robe instead of designer clothes. “I wasn’t even cockteasing yet.” He shrugs as he looks you up and down, ending with a lingering look on your lips. From the corner of your eye you see his left hand moving, straightening out the fabric at the crotch of his pants, and you know the good prospects for this shoot are about to take a turn.

“They’re probably gonna come get you soon,” you protest weakly, but he just smiles, thumbing open the button of his pants with his eyes locked onto you. “Dieter…”

He’s wearing his white CK boxers, of course. The ones that show everything and are practically translucent. But what you just may like the most about them is the way they hug his hips, and thighs, and how the soft swell of his belly spills a little over the band. Some days it makes him feel self-conscious, but today isn’t one of those days - he looks calm and in control, almost surprisingly so.

His fingertips ghost over the fabric and he cups himself briefly, a slow smile tugging at his lips; he knows you’re hypnotized and are following every little move. It’s not even arrogance that’s on his face; he just loves to see how much you want him, how he can get you fucked up with just the smallest of actions. “C’mere, baby,” he says, giving you a wink as he fully presses his hand against his crotch now.

You squirm as you feel your own underwear get wet, your tongue aching to taste him, but he clicks his tongue in amusement as his eyes flit down your body, before they move back up again to look right at you. Fucking elevator eyes.

When you see the wet patch where he’s leaking against the white fabric of his boxers, it’s game over. No more waiting. You don’t just come over as he requested - you also reach out for him, determined to tug those boxers down and at last get to see all of him.

“Nuhuh,” he grabs your hand just before you can grasp the fabric of his boxers. “Behave.” His voice is low, deeper than general, and you can tell by the look in his eyes that you’re definitely not going to be in control this afternoon. But that has never stopped you from trying - if there’s one thing Dieter loves, it’s being challenged.

You shake your head, biting your lip as you let your other hand brush over his boxers, and you feel him twitch under your touch. “Dee. Take them off. Wanna see you.” But the thing about Dieter is that if he’s got other plans, he simply won’t listen to suggestions. And he’s really good at cajoling people into getting what he wants.

It takes embarrassingly little time for you to sink down to your knees in front of him - quicker even that it takes him to take his pants off and toss them over to a nearby chair, followed by his underwear. His big hand closes around his cock and he strokes himself, slowly and teasingly, not missing a beat of how you’re practically salivating at the sight. You know it riles him up even more when he sees how much you want him, and you also know that he’s fully aware already that you’re soaking wet for him.

He’s on a little power trip now, jerking himself off while staring down at you being on your knees in front of him - his voice that perfect kind of hoarseness which always sends shivers down your spine as he says your name.

With two fingers he gathers the precum that’s leaking from the head of his dick, then reaches with his other hand for your chin, gripping it tightly as he forces your mouth open. “Take it.” And then those slick fingers push into your mouth and he groans pleased when you take them in, sucking on him.

When he’s content with how desperately you’re sucking on his fingers, he pulls them out of your mouth and grabs you by your hair, guiding you towards his balls. There’s that low, deep groan from him when you eagerly put your tongue and lips on him, licking him before you take his sack into your mouth and he continues to pump himself slowly in one hand as he watches you play with his balls. Just for a little while, until you’re whimpering his name in frustration - then he tugs your head a little further back, his hand still in your hair, and rubs the head of his dick over your lips, watching how he slicks up your lips.

You can tell Dieter is waiting to hear one more whine or plea from you, and when he gets it, he at last he feeds his cock to your mouth - finally letting you take over, but with his hand still firmly in place on the back of your as you blow him, guiding you in the rhythm he wants.

“Look at you. Want it so bad, huh?” Dieter grins when he notices you’re touching yourself while sucking him off, and fucks your mouth just a little harder as his breathing is getting all messed up. Eventually he pulls himself out of your mouth with a groan and helps you up from the floor, only to urge you down on the couch.

Within seconds he’s stripped you off your pants and underwear, and you’re on all four with his fingers slipping between your legs. “Fuckin soaked just from sucking my dick”, he scoffs as he slips a finger into you, but you can tell by his tone of voice that he likes it. A second finger rapidly follows, and he curses as you clench around him, rutting back against him.

His resolve has worn off though, and you can tell he’s getting as desperate as you are. When you look back over your shoulder, you see him fist himself with your wetness, eyes heavy lidded as he watches you. You’re more than ready to take him, but still you can’t help but gasp as he presses into you to fill you up. The broadness of his chest and shoulders are warm against your back, and you try not to think about what this is doing to his outfit, as he doesn’t slow down until he’s fully buried inside of you.

He’s rough and fast, needy in a dominant way as his fingers dig into your hips. “You take me so well,” he breathes, sounding strung out already as he thrusts into you, handling you to his liking. You gasp his name suddenly as his cock hits just the right spot inside of you, and he picks up on it immediately, making sure to keep the pace going while he slides his other hand down to your clit to stroke you. His breathing is rapidly getting out of control, both of you barreling towards a release, and you let your fingers join his to touch you just the way you need it.

A knock on the dressing room door startles you both, and you curse as you suddenly remember you didn’t lock the door. “Shit. Shit, you’ve gotta stop, Dee,” you try to force the words out even though it’s barely more than a moan when you hear someone outside call out for him, followed by another knock.

But Dieter laughs hoarsely, shaking his head as he slams even harder into you, balls slapping against your sweaty skin. “Oh I don’t fucking think so, baby. Let them come in,” his breathing is hot against your ear as he pins you down even more with his body, and you know there’s no point in trying to break free from him. “You’ll just have to come faster.”

The truth is that you wouldn’t even care that much if it was just his assistant - god knows that poor guy really did see it all before. But while you initially thought it was one of the set assistants, you now hear the voice of the actor you’ve had a thing for since you were in your late teens.

“Hey man, they need us on set - are you in there?”

Dustin. Dustin fuckin’ Mulray, because of course. That goddamn Cliff Beasts 6 shoot.

You feel the shiver of excitement running through Dieter’s body and against yours, and again there’s that shit eating laugh of his as he buries his face against your neck. “Fuck. Want me to call him in, baby? Get him on his knees so he can lick you while I fuck you like this?” His voice is thick and you know he’s imagining it, that he knows you are imagining it too now he’s said it. Even though you’re trying with all your might to say no, your treacherous body is clearly saying otherwise.

“Mmm, yeah, I think you do. I know you’ve been hot for him for a long time now,” Dieter’s voice is gleeful as he’s panting now, clearly enjoying how you clench tighter around him at his taunting words. “He’s got a pretty mouth. Or want him to fuck your mouth so you’re full on both ends? Take you from London to Paris - he’s well hung, too.”

Your body tenses up at that and you curse at Dieter, almost crying now as you grab his hand tighter and grind down against his fingers, forcing just the right amount of pressure against your throbbing clit. “You son of a bitch, just fuck-….”

“Hello?”

You stop breathing when you see the door handle move down, and Dieter groans with way too much delight at that, his spare hand yanking at your hair suddenly in a way that never fails to affect you. “You’d better come quick for me, honey,” and the words have barely even left his mouth before you’re spasming around his cock, shoving your fist against your mouth to muffle your moans as you’re coming hard - some part of your brain still bracing yourself for the sight of Dustin staring at the two of you, which both mortifies and exciting the hell out of you.

Dieter’s laugh is deep and throaty as he tries to stop his own moans, shifting his hips until he’s gasping and slamming himself even harder into you. “What’s that, Dustin?”, he calls out, forcing your head up so you have no choice but to stare at the door - and your body jolts up again, and again, as the door handle is now pressed all the way down and you’re less than a second away from meeting Dustin’s hazel eyes.

“I said-…”

“Fuuuuck”, Dieter’s voice is muffled against your shoulder as his body jerks hard, and both his hands now grip your hips as he fills you up, his cock pulsing inside of you. “Coming, Dustin!”

The door handle moves back to its original position as you hear a muttered “Alright, fine. Always late,” from the hallway, and you try to control your breathing while considering how you can kill Dieter and get rid of the body before anyone notices.

“You’re a fucking bastard,” you finally manage when he pulls out of you, and he laughs as he helps you up.

“It was locked. You were fine.” He catches your hand by the wrist before you can slap him, and smugly leans in to give you a kiss. “C’mon, put your clothes back on. Wanna know I’m leaking out of you while you watch the shoot, babe.”

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<3 for @magpiepills @legendary-pink-dot @arcanefox207 @youandmeand5bucks @exquisiteserotonin @redhotkitchen @sparklefarts38 @pink-whiskey-woman @sin-djarin @qveerthe0ry @lotusbxtch @mountainsandmayhem for encouraging my little brainrot fic!

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main masterlist | follow @longlongtime-updates for updates

#dieter bravo #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #dieter bravo x reader #the bubble #dustin mulray #david duchovny #david duchovny characters

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sp00kymulderr · 5 months ago

Text

stretch

Dieter Bravo x gn!reader x yoga instructor!Joel Miller

Warnings/Tags: M for mentions of sex. AU in which Joel is very flexible. Dieter is a menace. Daydreaming about a threesome. Reader is able bodied/takes part in a yoga class. No use of pronouns for reader but they are called babe & baby.

Words: 890 words

Summary: Dieter introduces you to his yoga instructor.

A/N: for my love @ravensmadreads. idk where this came from. You mentioned something about trainer!joel and being told to bend over and my mind went to yoga so??? Consider this a little offshoot of gym crush Joel. An au of the au.

Dieter had been insistent on your coming to his yoga class today.

He was practically dragging you along through the luxury gym floor to the studio - an intimate set up with space for just the two of you and the instructor. Perks of being an actor, Dieter didn't have to work out with strangers.

He'd never been that into yoga before he'd gone off to film Cliff Beasts 6. But he'd come back particularly enthusiastic about it. Something about a mirror. Someone called Kate. You weren't sure you particularly needed to know the rest and frankly, the sex had been even better since he'd gotten more flexible and active so who were you to say anything.

He's happy, giving you an excited nudge as you both sit down on your fancy mats, sitting cross legged as you wait for the instructor to show up.

"You're gonna love this, babe" He mutters, giving you the kind of smile that is all mischief.

"Dee, I love your enthusiasm but I really don't think-"

You stop, words scrambling just like your brain cells as another man joins you two in the room. He pads quietly over to the mat in front of you both and greets the two of you. Where Dieter's energy is very 'bouncing off the walls', this man seems calm and gentle, in a way.

It doesn't hurt that he's gorgeous too. Beautiful brown eyes that seem to tell a thousand stories at once, greying brown hair, scruffy grey-speckled facial hair that accentuates his handsome features. He's…gorgeous isn't even really the right word. Breathtaking feels more like it.

Well, you understand why Dieter has been particularly keen about this class.

He introduces himself as Joel before sitting down on his mat facing the two of you and mirroring your crossed-leg stance.

Your mouth feels dry. It's a little embarrassing how quickly you're affected by the man. He's started talking but you're zoned out, hopefully subtly scanning eyes over him; the way his t-shirt is just a little too tight around the biceps, the tiny sliver of skin when it rides up as he raises his arms.

Dieter, thoroughly amused, nudges you back to reality. For a moment you stare from him back to Joel and then, "Oh right" you awkwardly say, raising your arms up with a deep breath.

If you thought Dieter was flexible now, he was nothing compared to Joel. He made every flow look easy, and showed his strength with a quiet grace that you were finding very difficult to not continue to be struck dumb by. Your mind was definitely going to places it shouldn't…specifically to Joel in bed with you and Dieter…how that might go. Hearing him tell you to bend for a different reason might drive you completely overboard.

As the class continues you're wondering what positions he could put you in, lost in thought right as his hands gently meet your hips to help you into a pose you might not be struggling with if your mind wasn't in the gutter. The touch of his hand makes your breath hitch. And not subtly.

"You okay?" Joel asks, his voice low and quiet, fingers giving you a little reassuring tap on the hip. You nod back, waiting for the floor to open up and take you away. Dieter gives you a knowing look and you glare back at him, now fully aware why he'd so badly wanted you to join the class.

It's either a blessing or a curse that you have the same taste in men.

It's a relief when the class ends, when the 45 minutes are up and you can hopefully get out of the small studio and clear your head of dirty thoughts about a man just doing his job.

You look over to Joel as he's clearing away mats, give him a little smile and say your thanks and pray that you aren't somehow giving away the things you'd been thinking about him for the whole time. To your surprise he gives you a smile and a wink as you're on your way out.

"Give me a couple minutes, baby" Dieter says mysteriously. Maybe you should be worried about that particular glint in his eyes as he approaches Joel when you exit the studio.

You're checking your phone when Dieter comes back out, taking your hand and walking with you back to the car.

"So?" He asks, looking at your like an expectant puppy.

"Hm?"

"You liked it? What'd you think of Joel?" He says, his tone telling you he's much more interested in knowing your thoughts on the other man.

"He's very…" You start, not sure quite how to describe the things you felt about him in that short amount of time "bendy?"

"Yeah he is" Dieter sighs happily, pulling you towards him out by the car and turning you around to face him. His arms nake round your middle, holding you close. "You liked him, right?"

You sigh, returning his embrace. He always looked for a reason to be as close to you as possible. You would never complain about that.

"Yeah, I like him"

His smile lights up the entire parking lot. You knew he was up to something.

"Good" He kisses the tip of your nose before pulling back.

"Cause he's coming over tonight to give us a special session"

#Dieter Bravo x reader x Joel Miller #Dieter Bravo x reader #Joel Miller x reader #joel miller x dieter bravo #pedro pascal character fiction

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chronically-ghosted · 7 months ago

Text

fade into you

rating: Explicit (18+)

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

word count: 4K

summary: counting down the days until the new baby arrives, you’re already wound to a breaking point. Fortunately, Dieter is as good a husband as he is a father.

warnings: pregnancy, hormonal behavior due to pregnancy, fluffy cute behavior with kids, oral (m!receiving), Dieter is a sensitive king and loves your tummy, brief body insecurity, pregnancy sex, smut, thigh fucking, daddy/mommy dynamic – mostly tongue in cheek, and finally the return of the greatest tag gone far too long from our lives - daddy!dieter

a/n: congrats @burntheedges you are the first prompt for my 1k follower celebration! This was your prompt for Dieter: "Your shirt is inside out." "Can you help me fix that?" This takes place in the same universe as Little Monsters, but you don’t have to have read that one to understand this one. Thank you SO much for sending this in!

��Dieter Bravo Masterlist 🤍Masterlist

I wanna melt in I wanna soak through I only wanna move when you move I wanna breathe out when you breathe in then I wanna fade into you

“C’mon – c’mon, just –,” your outstretched toe barely scrapes the end of the pen. You’re sweating – of course, you’re sweating, you’re always sweating these days. You try inching further down on the bed, as far as your aching back will allow, your leg fully extended, stretched so long you know you’re just flirting with a massive cramp –

You manage to snag the pen between your toes but as you bring it forward, the weight of the top slips back – “fuck, no!” and with a clatter, the pen tips backwards out of your grasp and onto the floor. After spending ten minutes trying to a fucking pen that you accidentally put there only after you managed to roll your way off the bed to go to the bathroom for the third time in forty-five minutes, the weight of it all hits you. The massive weight of you sinks back against the pillows, eyes scrunched shut, begging yourself not to cry.

You had all but demanded some time alone to work on the bills the producer wanted you to sort through. It was the last thing on your to-do list before you mentally allowed yourself to start your maternity leave and at this rate, it would be done by the time the nearly-grown baby in your stomach was a walking, talking ten year old. In that weird sixth sense mothers and their unborn children share, you feel your son turn and gently one foot presses against your forearm draped over your massive belly. In any other context, your heart would have been made ten times stronger, fortified by the love of your son.

Right now, it just makes you burst into tears.

You’re crying so hard you don’t hear the back door open, or the rousing chorus of Baby Shark that echoes through the house. If you were listening, you’d hear the squelch of wet flip flops traipsing through the kitchen floor, the song only occasionally broken by giggles and jokes about towel monsters coming to get little girls who drip water all over the living room, and a loud raspberry on soft skin.

He opens the door before you even have time to try to pull in the loud, wailing sob.

“Baby, look at –,”

“Dieter, don’t –,” you snatch up a pillow and shove your face into it, ashamed, embarrassed, and angry all at once. “Don’t look at me like this.”

When he had left you an hour ago, you had your hot tea by the side of the bed and your game face on – one of your sexier faces, if anyone asked him. You swore up and down this was the last thing and then it was smooth-sailing. You loved overworking yourself even while eight months pregnant, so Dieter and your doctor managed to make an agreement with you: all work must be done in bed.

You had your tea, a snack, even a towel wrapped around the headboard so you could pull yourself upright out of the bed to go to the bathroom unassisted while Dieter and Zelle went down to the pool . You, like you so often do, had a fool-proof plan. And to be quite honest, those were Dieter’s favorite kind of plans.

Listening to his ‘you think I can’t do it? watch me, fuck you’ wife and mother of his child (soon to be another) wail like the house was on fire made something inside of him break on a microscopic level. Like his organs were suddenly perforated with a million tiny cuts.

His bottoms still wet from the pool and Zelle’s wet suit quickly soaking the front of his t-shirt, Dieter approaches, his hand squeezing the arch of your foot to let him know he’s there. That did nothing to deter the anguish sobbing or inch the pillow away from your face.

With Zelle on his hip, he slides closer, touching you the whole time until he’s seated right beside you, his hand on your thigh. Your sobbing might only be second to Zelle’s own yelling cry in successfully destroying him from the inside out.

“Baby . . .”

You don’t flinch but he sees your knuckles go white – you’re nearly at the end, but you can’t seem to stop. As Dieter waffles between drawing you into his chest with his free arm or just being there for you while you let it all out, the weight on his hip shifts and a little pudgy hand brushes the back of your knuckles.

“Mama?”

Your sobbing stutters to a halt with a deep hiccup and all at once you go still. Very slowly, the pillow is lowered and your pink, snotty, dribbly face peers up at him. It’s not funny for you, and he knows this and he knows he won’t laugh but he wants nothing more than to pull you in close and kiss off those tears that have been nearly a constant presence in the last two weeks. Instead, his little girl beats him to it.

Zelle wiggles off his hip towards you and you take her in your arms, letting out one more whine as she wraps her tiny arms around your neck. She rubs her little face in your neck and you huff.

“Now, I feel silly,” you blubber. With a small chuckle, Dieter reaches over and gets a few tissues from the bedside table. He hands them over and you try to juggle Zelle and reaching over your swollen tummy to take them.

“C’mere, baby, let Mama have a second.” Zelle folds into his shoulder, her bright, inquisitive eyes never leaving your face as you wipe yourself dry and blow your nose. He rubs your thigh in circles. “You’re not silly. Whatever ever made you break out into deep sobs on a Thursday afternoon in our secluded bedroom is totally normal.”

You give a watery laugh, sniffing as you try to adjust your pillows, Baby Brave Number Two rolling back into your kidneys. He doesn’t kick, he's as unassuming as possible, but he can’t help how he floats.

“I dropped a pen,” you murmur with a sigh. “I just got comfortable after waddling back in from the bathroom and I dropped my pen.”

“Mama mad?” Zelle hides her little face beneath a curtain of hair. Dieter Bravo’s offspring in every conceivable way, Zelle is rarely this timid – only when there’s even but a hint of an implication that she’s in trouble. You’d see those same puppy dog eyes come out of the man with his hand up against her small back more than a dozen times.

“No, baby, I’m not mad.” You shake your head and those wide eyes get even bigger. “I’m just having a lot of feelings and I’m not doing a good job at managing them.”

“Yeah, like remember how you felt on your first day of preschool?” Dieter slides Zelle across his waist so she sits between you two. She glances back between your faces, anxiety and confusion twisting up her little features. “You were mad and sad and scared all at once so you started crying when we dropped you off?” She nods and he tucks a strand of delicate hair over her ear. “But then we had that talk in the car and you felt better. Mama just needs to do that.”

“Talk? Mama talk?”

He smiles at her and pulls her into his chest, smelling her strawberry L’Oreal shampoo, and a peace he’d never known before sinks into his bones. He feels whole with his little girl in his arms.

“Yes, she just needs to talk. Right, Mama?”

He pulls back and watches you visibly swallow. Not a knot of sadness but something else. It’s gone from your eyes by the time Zelle turns back around.

“I’m just really excited for your little brother to get here,” you say with a soft smile, your hand absentmindedly stroking the swell of your stomach where a little foot had been pressed just a few minutes ago. “Aren’t you?”

Zelle nods, smiling, and puts her ear to your stomach. A minute later, Dieter’s wide palm covers yours. He interlaces his fingers with yours and he smiles. The smile that’s been cultivated and cured over half a dozen years together, and recent late nights as new parents. A smile that has never graced a single magazine cover or Instagram reel. A smile that is forever and always will be yours.

“Come on, love bug, it’s bath time.” Dieter swings Zelle up into his arms and nibbles on her neck making her giggle.

“Then dinner time,” you grunt as you inch towards the edge of the bed. You try and swing your legs off the edge but end up nearly toppling over your lowered center of gravity.

“Baby –,” his firm grip steadies you, stops you from rolling into the bedside table. Those lines at the corners of his eyes sharpen for a second as he looks you over, worry all at once endearing and annoying. You hated being coddled but Dieter loved to coddle.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” you can hear how out of breath you sound and you grimace. Dieter doesn’t let go of your arm until you’re firmly planted on the ground next to him and you squeeze his bicep as reassuringly as you possibly can. He loosens his grip, concern wrinkling his forehead, his hand sliding from your arm, to your elbow then over your belly once again. Baby Bravo jostles you where his father’s hand sits.

“See, we’re all okay.”

Your gazes meet at the same time and something softens in his eyes, soothes him and you down to the very beat of your heart. As if in a daze, Dieter’s eyelids flutter half-shut and his eyes slip to your mouth, he puts his hand on your swollen waist as he kisses you – deeply, with an intensity that makes your knees quiver.

“Ew.”

A puff of breath fans your cheeks as Dieter breaks the kiss with a laugh. On his hip, Zelle chews on her little fist, an all-too-familiar glint in her eye.

“You can’t say ‘ew’. You only exist because of kisses like that –,”

“Dieter!”

He shakes his head before kissing Zelle on her little nose. “Tough crowd tonight. But even little sharks need to get a bath before dinner.”

Zelle scrunches up her nose, baring her crooked little teeth, and raises her fingers like claws. “Rawr.”

You hear Dieter chuckle as he walks her down to the bathroom. “Yes, baby, that’s definitely the sound sharks make.”

The bills aggressively shoved to the floor, you are folding the last bit of laundry over the bed after dinner when Dieter saunters in. Still in his trunks and shirt from earlier in the day, a faint pink blush warms his nose and cheeks – which would be gone in a few days, only to be replaced by a gorgeous dark almond color. Dieter Bravo could naturally tan so perfectly it was honestly heart-breaking.

“She’s out?”

“She’s out.” He nods with a sigh. He scratches the back of his head and snags his phone off the bedside table. When he sits down on the edge of the bed, you see the tag of his shirt over the lip of his collar. You muffle your grin and quietly finish with the towels. “The guy who came up with the lyrics ‘Baby Shark, doo-doo, doo-doo, doo-doo’ is either a genius or a madman. Two rounds of that and she’s basically comatose.”

“How do you know it was a man?” You arch your eyebrow at him.

Dieter lifts his head from his phone and smirks at you. He reaches for you and you let him tug you between his legs. He kisses your wrist, your hands curled around his broad shoulders. “That was incredibly sexist of me, darling, can you ever forgive me?”

Dropping his head, he presses a soft kiss to the swell of your stomach, his eyes flicking up to you at the last second, the bottom half of his face hidden. The sight, one you haven’t seen in recent months but one you craved like a drizzle of honey over a bowl of fruit, loosens the tension in your back and liquifies your underwear.

“Dieter?”

“Yes, O Love of My Life?”

“Your shirt is inside out.”

The sultry look in his eyes immediately flickers out and he huffs a laugh, shaking his head and pressing his face into your neck.

“What would I do without you? Can you help me fix that?”

“Mhm hm.”

His back arched, you roll the faintly damp shirt up his spine, careful to take in the notches visible through his skin. You watch in delight as more of that broad back is revealed, more golden skin and freckles. The rim of the collar catches the back of his head so when you finally tug it off him, his hair is scattered in a dozen different directions. It takes nearly all of your willpower not to moan at the site.

“Or . . .” you make a deliberate show of dropping the shirt and Dieter goes honey-eyed again.

“Yeah?” He tilts his head up, wraps his massive hands around the back of your thighs, squeezing you above the backs of your knees, then higher up, his fingers pressing into your inner thigh muscles, and finally resting on your ass.

You nod and gently push him back. He goes without being told twice. “I want to thank you for taking Zelle to let me work today.”

His eyes go wide, his elbows locked with his arms set apart behind him, when you go onto your knees in front of him.

“B-baby, your back –,”

“Then give me a pillow, Dieter.”

He nearly launches himself back to snag a pillow by the headboard.

“My back is one thing, but I’m more worried about the knot of your trunks.”

Dieter busies himself with the drawstring of his shorts, his movements frantic, giving you a chance to muffle a grunt as you ease the pillow underneath your knees. He’s right, of course, but fuck if you couldn’t get those goddamn bills done, the least you could blow your husband until he popped off in your mouth.

“Love, you really don’t have to do this.” You glance up at him and despite the evident tent in his swim trunks, his wide eager eyes, he will do everything in his power to make these last few weeks even somewhat bearable.

With a smile, you lean forward and squeeze his knees. “I know. And honestly, I don’t know how long I’ll last, but I wanna try. Is that okay?”

An awe-struck grin splits his lips apart and he laughs, a high-pitched sound and breathless. “How long you’re gonna last? Been half-hard all day since you put on those leggings this morning.”

“Well, you were so good with Zelle today, talking to her about feelings, it made me kinda hot and bothered so I feel especially grateful.”

You lean forward, fingers plucking at the damp strings and out of the corner of your eye you see his knuckles go white against the sheets. You tug and he helps you by lifting his hips.

“S-so that’s what that look w-was.” He swallows roughly as you take him in your hand, stroking him gently at first. He squeezes his eyes shut – god, could you really make him come with just a few touches? “I’m j-just – fuck – doing my part.”

You kiss along his length and his shoulders lock up as his breathing quickens. You suck the spit in your mouth before dropping a string of drool right on the head and Dieter’s groan elongates, the muscles of his neck tense.

“Well, Mommy likes it when Daddy does a good job.”

Tongue out and jaw loose, you swallow him down nearly to the base. Maybe you’re biased because you married the himbo attached to it, but Dieter’s cock is one of the – if not the – very best cocks you’ve ever seen in your life. Thick without being overwhelmingly long and always oozing precum the instant you breathe on it. A slick vein that has him whimpering with a single lick.

“Fuck, Mama, you’re so fucking good at this.” Dieter’s hand floats to the crown of your head, his nails scratching your scalp, the weight of his palm soothing as it follows the motions of your head. With every little sigh he makes, your pussy squeezes with every bob of your head. Dieter’s sensitivity has always been a near drug for you, a chemical reaction that floods your brain, branding those noises on the lining of your skull as he drips down the back of your throat. You meet his hot gaze just as you drag your mouth up and nearly off him, only to kitten-lick the lip of his head and he clamps his eyes shut, shuddering.

When you hear his heel kick the ground beside you, his chest heaving and chin tilted up, you drop your mouth down to his base – years of taking him training you to smother your gag-reflex – and with hollowed cheeks, suck him all the way up to the tip. His wiry curls smell like chlorine and musk.

Dieter jerks, his hand flying to your shoulder as if to pry you off him.

“Mhmm – baby, p-please – shit,” he swallows and you pop off him, his cock red and shiny from your spit. Dieter is panting, soft center fluttering, flush high in his throat. Your underwear sticks to you as you realize he very nearly came in your mouth without warning. Call it being a masochist but you loved making him come before either of you realized what was happening.

“Get off your fucking knees and come here –,” he yanks you into his naked lap and you go, giggling as he palms your ass and kissing you so hard you tilt back. He bites your bottom lip and you keen. “Can’t believe I let my pregnant wife fucking suck me off like that when she knows I worship that little pussy.”

He cups you through your leggings and the dampness soaking through the fabric sends a moan through both of you. Dieter’s jaw goes lax as he rubs his thick fingers across your folds, the material catching and dragging, and you whimper – and not in a way he knows means a good thing. His gaze floods with worry and you shake your head – the instant the doctor gives the go-ahead you’re gonna have him rail you through a bedpost – “It’s okay. I’m just sore, baby. Last night –,”

He tsks, frowning. “I told you I was being too rough.”

“I asked for it. Also, so not the time for an ‘I told you so’. Help me stand up.”

With his hands on your hips, he eases you off of his lap and onto your feet. You lift up your exasperatedly large shirt, the hemline of which has been steadily shrinking as you grow, and clip off your bra. Dieter stares, mouth open, as you slip your leggings and your sticky underwear off your round hips and to the floor. With your second baby, you’d managed to quell the looming anxiety about your body changing but with a boy, you just feel ten times your normal size, bigger than you did with Zelle. Your heart hitches in your chest as Dieter’s eyes roam from your shoulders to your swollen tits, your belly, your thighs, and you’d be happy if he just thought you were –

“Gorgeous, baby, just fucking gorgeous.” He stands and kisses you without another word, his thumbs on your jaw tilting your mouth into his. He palms your breast, hard and weighed with milk. He approaches you with a level of sensuality that makes your eyes roll back in your head and your knees shake. How can he touch you like that when you’re already filled to the brim?

“How do you need it, baby?”

The tension that had been locking down the muscles in your back, your hips, since you woke up this morning, only heightened over those stupid fucking bills and feeling incredibly sorry for yourself, cracks at his words. Without your hands on his chest and his big hands cradling your jaw, you’re sure you would have melted to the floor. You lick your bottom lip, eyes scrunched tightly to clear the sudden tightness behind them.

“On my side, but between my thighs?”

His eyes are all heat, all dark wanting, but he hits you in the knees with one of his crooked grins. “Yeah, you’re gonna let Daddy fuck your thighs?” Total reverence, filth that has your toes curling coming as easy to him as it is to breathe.

“Please.”

He stands back at a distance, watching with half-set eyes as you climb into bed and peel back the covers. As you settle, Dieter flicks off the overhead light, and then the lamp by your bedside. His body lined in dark shadows and the cool touch of the moonlight, you track him as he rounds the bed, sliding in behind you in bed, the covers up to his shoulders. There’s a breath of silence, of anticipation, of a yearning so deep your skin flushes with goosebumps at his proximity. You know he’s there, you watched him dip on the other side of the bed, but a spark of panic tightens your lungs, you want to reach back for him, your baby unmoored as you are, trembling and desperate for the calming touch of the father –

He kisses you over your shoulder, broad, warm hand starting at your hip, then scooping down around your naked bottom to settle on your belly and from where his hand sits, you radiate with heat. Melting and growing sticky like tree sap, you drip for him, slick smearing across your thighs with no material to soak you up. His mouth is warm, the short hairs of his mustache numbing your upper lip, the taste of the red wine from dinner light against the back of his tongue.

When he cups you again, finds the sticky sap gathered in your curls and leaking onto your thighs, he breaks the kiss with a grunt and presses his teeth into your shoulder, his cock fully present against your back. You nip his bottom lip with your thumbnail, pleased beyond words at his reaction.

“I love you.”

That’s not what you thought he was going to say. He lifts his furrowed brow, eyes dark but struck with such earnestness, you feel your heartbeat in your ears. He sucks the mark his teeth made on your shoulder, his hips hitching closer, turning his weight over you, before dropping closer to kiss you again.

“How did I get so fucking lucky with you, hm?” He asks of no one. Delicately, he guides your knee back over his hip, his breath warm across the curve of your shoulder, his other hand pressing gently on the back of your neck. He would never, ever choke you in this state, but fuck you missed it. You missed it when Dieter loses himself entirely in you.

The head of his cock taps the wet triangle of your thighs and you fist the pillow beneath your head. He shuffles closer and you can feel his chest trembling with restraint.

“Tell me if it hurts,” he says in one breath. You know if you look over your shoulder, he’s fixated on watching you take his cock. Oddly enough, his ADHD always seemed to clear out during sex. “Do– do you need my fingers – a-a toy to prep you, ‘cause I can–,”

“Dieter, please.”

He exhales and, with a slow thrust that smears your arousal all over his spit-licked cock, you finally feel relief. The noise that leaves your throat is unrecognizable. That ruddy tip kisses your clit and the moan that tears out of you is nearly a scream.

A wide palm claps over your mouth, a breathy giggle falling down your back.

“Baby,” low, strained, barely audible over the sounds of your slickness sucking your thighs together around Dieter’s cock. “If you wake up that child before I’m balls deep in you, I will never forgive you.”

Using his hand as leverage, he pulls you back against him, pressing himself even further between your soaked lips, prodding your clit so gently it sends sparks up your spine and you come, a small wave, that somehow has you leaking more onto his cock.

“Ah – oh my god – did you just –?”

You whine and wrap your hand up into his hair, and finally he’s skin to skin up your back. His hips jolt you forward, the hard smack loud and sloppy in the mess between your thighs. Dieter leans over you and nips at your earlobe, his thrusts faster now, each one catching your clit with just enough time apart to send you ratcheting higher.

“That’s so good, Dieter, you’re doing so good –,”

A sharp intake of breath, high through a vocal shudder, and he drops down onto his shoulder against the pillow, looping his arm around your chest, a wide palm cupping your sensitive breast. Skin to skin, he is a wall of heat behind you, his hands both steadying you and begging you for more against your hip. It’s moments like these, when he’s swallowing up every sense you’re still in control of, that you really believe your soul lives in two bodies.

He tucks his lips near your ear and your skin tingles. “Can I touch your clit, or does that hurt?”

“Just put your hand –,”

You take him by the wrist from the curve of your waist, where he grips you tight, fingers pocketing your flesh, and slide him down between your legs.

“That’s it, baby, take what you need.”

Between the consistent bouncing of his cock between your pussy lips and the heat of his four fingers, stocky and thick, you have nowhere to go but up, your own hips thrust back aimlessly, bliss hurling towards you, until it breaks – and you whine, squeeze Dieter’s hand so hard, you think you hear a bone pop.

Wetness floods your thighs and, half a dozen strokes later, Dieter spills with a groan, white cream splattering against the low curve of your belly and onto the sheets. Covered in literal spend, exhaustion soaks your bones, gasping for air and never finding enough. You lie together, your bodies buzzing, blood roaring loud beneath your skin, until Dieter tilts his weight off you – you didn’t even realize he had nearly smothered you – and his cock slides out from between your numb legs, his grip loosening from your breast and his hand flopping down into the sheets. His skin is pink from exertion.

You grin and roll over as gracefully as you can, out of breath and the size of a house.

“An unexpected bonus,” you sigh, ringing your belly button with your finger, “I think we rocked him to sleep.”

Dieter huffs a laugh as he pushes a handful of damp curls off his sweaty forehead and his other arm curls around your shoulders. He rests his other palm over your fingers on your belly.

“Glad I could tire all three of us out.” You giggle into his shoulder. Both of you are sticky hot, sweltering in a fog of your own mess, and you can feel sleep tugging at the corners of your eyes. Humming, you curl up closer to him, your knee over his hip, tucking your nose into his neck as his fingers absently play with strands of your hair.

“I meant what I said, you know that right?”

Your body as supple as warm wax, eyes melting shut, you nod vaguely. “Mhmm hmm.”

“I love you, baby. Thank you, for everything.”

You return the sentiment, the words dribbling out of your mouth as sleep overwhelms you.

Later, when you wake up in the early blue hours of the morning, rain pattering against the glass, and you feel something cool and soft against your belly, you stir, reaching for him.

“Hush, baby, stay still for me.” He hums somewhere above you. You nod, on the precipice of sleep again. “You gave me the world, I’m just returning the favor.”

Later still, when you awake to a soggy light, Dieter and Zelle down the hall excitedly picking out which movies to watch on this designated Stay on the Couch day, you roll onto your back and realize he’s painted a globe onto your stomach.

A foot inside you presses up against Chile and you grin into space, content beyond your wildest dreams.

#dieter bravo #daddy dieter #gonna make this an official tag if its the last thing i do #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo x oc #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfic #the bubble fanfic #the bubble

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covetyou · 11 months ago

Text

best in show

ao3 ⋆ masterlist

pairing: Dieter Bravo x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: dual narrative, masturbation (m), voyuerism, drug reference (our boy is sober but struggling), subby Dieter, slight humiliation kink, very brief mentions of other sex acts (anal play, PIV, cum play), reader talks Dieter through a very nervy wank. word count: 3.7k summary: The Academy Awards, the most well known, well planned, film award ceremony in the world. So why is the host missing?

A/N: @agentjackdaniels happy holidays from your space sisters secret santa! sorry if this is a bit early for you - it's the 20th in my time zone, I promise! I went the route of award show!Dieter with a twist. Welcome to the Oscars, with your eccentric host - Dieter Bravo.

the suits mentioned are from SNL (blue, we're ignoring the yellow pants), the late late show (pink) and the tonight show (green).

dividers by @saradika-graphics follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future fics

"Bravo, you're up."

You rap your knuckles against the door again, hoping against hope that he just hasn't heard you and he isn't coked up out of his mind.

"Bravo!" you shout, knocking harder this time, as a voice blares through your in-ear. Fifteen minutes until showtime and the host is still nowhere to be seen. And it is your fault. You'd drawn the short straw and had been tasked with being his handler for the night, keeping him out of mischief and on time. Currently, it looked like you were failing at both.

"Right, I'm coming in!" You cannot be dealing with this shit. You're not paid enough.

You open the door, poking your head around to see if he's inside the dressing room, like he should be, only to find it completely empty. Stepping inside and closing the door behind you, you take in a deep breath and put your hands on your hips. Fuck. Whoever's idea to put Dieter-fucking-Bravo as the host for this years Oscars really needed a kick up the ass, and you'd be first in line to do it.

The room looks tidier than you expected. There's not an obvious illicit substance in sight. Sparkling water sits on the vanity, along with make up and haircare products. You didn't even know where his stylist is, but it was nice to know she'd at least been here. His clothes are still neatly lined on a rail - the first hanger is empty and you assume that's a good sign. It's got to be, right?

Except, Dieter Bravo is still nowhere to be found, and you've ran out of places to look for him.

The only conundrum is all the lights are still on. He'd left the room in such a hurry that he hadn't bothered to switch them off, and yet no one had reported him frantically dashing out in a drug fueled mania.

Even the bathroom light is on. And the door is ajar. You think it won't hurt to check inside, or at least turn the light off. A place like this burned through electricity like nobodies business, but your compulsion to turn off unused lights wins out and you're heading toward the bathroom on auto-pilot.

You only hear the whimper when you're already pushing the door open, and by then it's too late to stop.

That's how you find yourself stood in the doorway, watching as Dieter Bravo furiously jerks his cock with his eyes slammed closed and his head thrown back. You could back out, you should, but instead you stare transfixed as his fist moves over himself, so lost in it all that you don't even think he's noticed you standing there. You really should go before he notices.

Making a quiet retreat you -

"Stay."

Your eyes snap to his. He's looking at you now. His hand has stilled, squeezing himself tight, and you frown. You shouldn't. You shouldn't have even come in, and you definitely should not be seeing this, and you even more certainly must not be considering his offer.

"If you want. Please."

The nod of your head is so small it's practically imperceptible, but he sees it and groans deeply, resuming his strokes on his cock. It's framed in vibrant blue, and you're reminded how he wouldn't even be here if he didn't have that suit. One of the conditions he'd made on hosting was he would get to have a "more exciting" wardrobe, and the green, pink, and blue you'd seen wheeled in on his rail earlier today certainly lived up to that.

It looks good on him. He looks good. Fuck. You really should go, why did you nod your head.

You watch him swipe pre-cum from his head and draw it down his cock. He looks painfully stiff, and you wonder how long he's been at it, if this is the first time today or if he's been jerking himself every opportunity. Either way, you're mesmerized, watching as his large fist draws up and back down his length. You should do something - go, say something, tell him to stop, join in.

Instead, you just stand there, gaping at it like a fucking idiot. Why is your mouth watering.

"Please I-"

"You don't have long," you interrupt.

"I know, I know, I just - I can't -" he pants, looking at you with desperation.

"You can't what?"

"Come. I can't come."

You hold back a laugh. From what you'd heard about Dieter Bravo, that was not a problem he seemed to have very often. You don't hold it back well enough though, and a small sound escapes you, triggering a shudder that you watch run down his back.

"Oh god."

"Did you -?" like me laughing at you, you cut yourself off.

You lean against the doorframe, attempting nonchalance as Dieter tugs on his cock, watching you as you watch him.

You dismissed him earlier, regarding him with indifference and not ever really looking at him. But, appearances alone tell you he's changed. No longer is there a sunken look to his face from too many nights spent out of his mind. He looks healthy, healthier than you've ever seen him, but he looks scared. Frightened, borderline terrified even. You know the only thing standing between him and pure panic is his stiff cock in his hand.

It's probably why he can't come, but is equally desperate to. And if he liked you laughing, well, maybe you could give him a hand without actually giving him a hand.

"If you don't come soon, they're gonna catch you."

He groans, and his strokes slow, becoming more deliberate and focussed as you talk to him.

"Do you want that? Do you want to be caught with your dick in your hand?"

"F-no. No, I don't."

"Then you've gotta be quick and come."

He nods his head frantically, then looks down at his cock here it lays heavy in his hand. He spits, gliding the saliva across his length.

"If you're not careful you're gonna make a mess all over yourself."

"Fuck, don't stop. Please don't stop."

Five minutes - has anyone got eyes on Bravo.

The stage managers voice blares through your in-ear so loudly that you know Dieter has heard it. You purposefully hold the button on your mic as you watch him, making him pinch his lips shut to hold back his moan.

"I've found him," you say into your headset, releasing the button. Let it be known you are not bad at your job, and if anyone was going to find him first it would be you.

"Didn't say you could stop. You still need to come."

"I do, I do, I need to - "

You're holding down the button on your headset again, and he audibly groans this time.

"He's in the bathroom."

When you release the button for the final time, you raise an eyebrow at him. His breaths are coming in ragged and heavy, his eyebrows pinched together as his eyes threaten to flutter closed. You're no expert, but you can tell he's close, and by the movement of his hand you can tell he's still struggling to get there.

"Look at me."

Dieter looks up, pleading with his sad, pathetic eyes. You'd be lying if you said all of this wasn't turning you on. If it hadn't turned your legs to jelly and you weren't grateful for the sturdy doorframe propping you up. If your panties weren't soaked through and your core wasn't throbbing just from watching and speaking. If you weren't desperate to take him in your hand, bend yourself over the sink in front of him, anything.

But there was no time.

With four minutes to go, you do the only thing you can.

"Come, Dieter."

He's due on stage soon. He knows he is. That very thing is the reason why he shouldn't be doing this, but the very same reason why he's doing it in the first place. He needs it, something, anything, to take his mind off of it all and to take the edge off. Six months of sobriety and too many people to keep him accountable meant he couldn't - wouldn't - turn to his usual vices, so this would have to do.

He's struggling. Any other day and he would've come already, maybe to the thought of some gloriously plush tits, painting golden tan lines with his cum. Or a tongue swirling expertly around his asshole. Or the grip of something warm and wet and hot around his cock that wasn't his own fist. But today, nothing is working.

The bang on his dressing room door startles him, not only making his whole body twitch, but his dick too.

And then comes your voice, muffled but so obviously you even through two doors.

"Bravo, you're up."

Shit. He's gotta finish fast, he can't go out here like this, and he can't go out there with nothing to relieve the panic coursing through his veins. And then his mind flicks back to earlier in the day, meeting you and shaking your hand. Your hands had been soft, and you'd smelled fresh and clean. It calmed him. But then you'd listed off everything you needed him to do and told him and his team to get to it with a sharp click of your fingers before stalking off. His cock twitches again, and suddenly he has exactly the fuel he needs to get himself off.

He begins moving his hand again, stroking his balls gently in the other. You've probably gone away, stalked off with your ass jiggling in your pants just like earlier. He grunts, closing his eyes to savor the image. You'd looked good. He can remember the clip of your sensible heels on the floor now. Fuck, he'd let you step on him with those shoes given the chance.

"Bravo!" Another knock on the door and another sigh. If you stay there knocking long enough, it'll get him off. He just knows it.

"Right, I'm coming in."

He knows he should panic. Knows he should stop, tuck his cock away, pretend he was just using the bathroom and washing his hands. But he doesn't. The threat of being caught, by you, spurs him on. If only he could get closer and just fucking come already.

The door of his dressing room opens, and Dieter has to bite back a moan. When the door closes again, he has to fight back disappointment until he hears your footsteps just outside the bathroom. He never fully closed the door, and there's no time to shut it now. He's so close.

"Oh fuck," he whispers, looking down at his weeping cock where it's gripped in his hand. It's rock solid, flushed tip oozing pre-cum that trickles from his slit and coats his fingers with every jerk of his fist.

Time drags on as he hears you walk around, looking for him. And then your footsteps approach the door and he can't help but whimper at the idea of you catching him with his cock in his hand.

His eyes slam shut, his head tilting back as he bites back a louder moan. He doesn't hear the door open, but feels the air shift, blowing a cool breeze over him that makes his dick throb in his hand. If the blood wasn't pounding out of his head so hard he would have heard your small intake of breath as you took him in.

He really should stop. But he doesn't.

And when you go to leave, he really should let you go, but he doesn't do that either.

"Stay."

You're beautiful, in a way that you wouldn't even recognize in yourself, but fuck are you beautiful. Even when you frown at him, eyebrows pinching together, you're beautiful.

"If you want. Please."

Dieter Bravo is not a begging man. Outside of the bedroom. Or the bathroom. Or anywhere else where his dick can get involved really. He didn't beg for this job, they'd approached him. He tried to make himself into such a diva that they'd retract their offer, but his agent was determined for him to take it and for once get some good PR under his belt. The promise of good PR did nothing to stop his nerves.

When your head does the tiniest of nods he feels like he could cry. Knowing that you're watching him - and, fuck, how attentively you're watching him - his balls draw tight, threatening to spill themselves before backing off. It's still not enough. Why the fuck is it still not enough.

"Please I-"

"You don't have long."

Your voice. It's like it's just been drizzled over his brain and is melting him from the inside out, turning his body to goo.

"I know, I know, I just - I can't -" he pants, looking at you with desperation. He doesn't want to admit it, but he knows it's painfully obvious that he can't come if his life depended on it. And it practically does - if he didn't come and get out there as soon as possible, his career would very likely be over. He can see the headlines now - BRAVO ABANDONS OSCARS IN COKE FUELED FRENZY. If he still did coke, he wouldn't be having this problem.

"You can't what?"

"Come. I can't come."

He knows you try not to, but he hears your laugh. It's small, but coming from you, directed at him, it does things to him he didn't expect. He lurches forward as his whole body shudders.

"Oh god."

He squeezes his eyes shut again, hoping that this'll finally be it, finally be the thing that sends him over the edge.

"Did you -?"

He didn't come, that much should be obvious, he thinks. But then he's looking at you again and gets lost in your eyes as you watch him with such nonchalance that it makes him ache down to his bones.

"If you don't come soon, they're gonna catch you."

He groans, desperate strokes becoming slow and more deliberate as he listens to your voice. If you just keep talking to him he'll get there, and this will all be over and he can get out there and do his damn job.

"Do you want that? Do you want to be caught with your dick in your hand?"

"F-no. No, I don't." Liar.

"Then you've gotta be quick and come."

He nods his head frantically, and spits down onto his cock, watching as his hand glides up and down. He imagines it's your hand for a moment, smaller more delicate fingers pulling at his cock, smoothly moving back and forth in an attempt to get him off.

"If you're not careful you're gonna make a mess all over yourself."

Dieter doesn't give a shit about that right now. Just a little longer and he'll be there, he knows it. He just needs you to keep going.

"Fuck, don't stop. Please don't stop."

Five minutes - has anyone got eyes on Bravo.

It's muffled, but he can hear the words clear as day through your in-ear. The stage manager sounds pissed, and the devilish look in your eye as you reach to press the button to respond has him biting back a moan and stilling his hand on his cock.

"I've found him."

He lets out a shaky breath when you finally release the button again, his cock feeling red hot and angry in his hand.

"Didn't say you could stop. You still need to come."

Looking to you, he starts jerking his cock again and nods. "I do, I do, I need to - "

And then you're pressing down the button to speak into your headset again and he's groaning before you even speak.

"He's in the bathroom."

He doesn't give a shit if they heard. His knees feel weak and his eyes are ready to clamp closed, but he can't resist staring at you and that cocky look on your face as you release the button again. Your eyebrow quirks at him and he knows in that moment he'd get on his knees and beg you for something, anything, if only he had the time.

"Look at me."

Dieter looks up, feeling the desperation roll off himself in waves. He wonders if you can feel it, and if any of this is having any affect on you at all. Fuck, he hopes it is. He's going to come. He's really, actually, going to come.

Time's ticking, he knows it is, and his balls are getting tight and tighter again, he can feel them pulling up but he still can't -

"Come, Dieter."

And his vision goes white as he explodes in his palm.

You're staring at him. He can't believe he just did that and you can't believe you stayed to watch. And you talked him through it.

More specifically, you're staring at the cum splashed all over his shirt and how it's slowly but steadily trickling down the fabric. He's lucky he opened his jacket before pulling his cock out, or the whole outfit would be ruined. Dieter is so blissed out that he doesn't even notice, softening cock still in his hand and eyes still closed.

Until rapidly cooling cum drips onto the back of his hand and he's opening his eyes, looking down to the crime scene splattered across his shirt.

"Fuck."

The panic in his voice is obvious. People will be bursting in to collect him any moment, and there's one hell of a mess to clean up. But, you're a problem solver by nature, it's why you're so good at your job.

"Take it off!" you tell him, snapping out of your cock induced trance and gesturing to the ruined shirt.

"What? I didn't think there was time to-"

"I'm not fucking you right now," you hiss. "You've got two minutes, take it off, I'll grab another. You've got other outfits, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah the shirt with the pink suit should work. My stylist is gonna fucking kill me - wait did you say right now - "

He's alone in the bathroom, tucking his dick away, throwing his jacket aside and peeling the soiled shirt from his shoulders before you can answer. Usually he hides the evidence, but there's not time to stash the extra shirt anywhere when there's another sudden knock on the door. The best he can do is throw his jacket back on over his bare shoulders so at least he's not seen to be topless and alone with you as he steps into his dressing room.

The door swings open just as you reach for the hanger of the pink suit, stopping you in your tracks.

"Dee. They're looking for you," his stylist walks in, looking at her phone. She spots you first, before flicking her eyes to Dieter and pointing in confusion. "Oh, hi. Where's your shirt?"

He shrugs, shoulders rising high as you stare at the exposed section of his chest now on full display beneath his jacket. "Changed my mind about it. Looks good enough like this, right?" He checks himself out in the mirror and adjusts his hair a fraction as if nothing untoward had just happened.

You're starting to understand how he won his own Oscar all those years ago.

His stylist seems to be just as eccentric as he is, and is thrilled by the choice to go shirtless. You're not sure your boss will be, but before you can offer a different shirt, Dieter is being whisked away by the production crew, all with confused looks on their faces as they take in his outfit. Dieter takes one last look back at you, mouthing a quick thank you as he's dragged off to begin the show.

The 96th Academy Awards go off without a hitch. You're already hearing reports from online that Dieter Bravo is a hit, his opening outfit being lauded as unique and a breath of fresh air for a sometimes stuffy and overly serious award ceremony. You watch him out of the corner of your eye through two costume changes - both times watching as he leaves wearing a shirt under each of his bold colored jackets.

It's a chaotic, well oiled machine, and by the time all is said and done and after parties are in full swing, you're winding down and saying thank yous and goodnight to the crew who made it all happen. One last sweep of the dressing rooms and you'll be on your way home too.

Empty, empty, empty. And then you're opening the door to Dieter's dressing room, ready to flick the light off and put the building to bed.

Except, Dieter Bravo is there, a vision in deep emerald green, holding the messed shirt from earlier in the evening in one hand and scribbling a note onto the back of a small card with the other. He sees you enter, and looks as stunned to see you as you are to see him.

"No after party?"

He looks sheepish, almost embarrassed when he answers.

"Not any more."

Admittedly, it was perhaps a stupid question to ask a recovering addict. "Oh."

You both awkwardly stand for a moment, Dieter keeping his eyes locked on the card in his hand before he's walking toward you and shoving it in front of you. You take it just as he edges past you out of the dressing room.

There's a note addressed to you and a number, scribbled hastily in Dieter's messy handwriting.

"I didn't want to be too forward, I know these things are..." he trails off with a wave of his hand. "Was just gonna leave that here and leave it up to you."

I owe you my life. Let me take you for coffee. Call me? D x

Looking up from the note, you can see him hesitantly make an exit. Calling after him, he stops in his tracks, spinning on his heel to look at you with more hope than you expect he intended.

"I'm just about to close up, if you wanted to go grab that coffee?"

And so, at 11pm on the night of the 96th Academy Awards, you find yourself in an empty diner, drinking bad coffee with Dieter-fucking-Bravo.

taglist: @jupiter-soups @wannab-urs @bean-is-reading @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @youandmeand5bucks-blog @bbyanarchist @vickywallace @kamcrazy123 @valkyreally @ashhlsstuff @a-literal-goblin @ariundercovers @iluvurfather @stevie75 @toxicanonymity @thesevi0lentdelights @sp00kymulderr

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#space sisters secret santa 2023 #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #the bubble fanfiction #the bubble #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #coveted fics

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bitchesuntitled · 2 months ago

Text

Broken Hearts Mended

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader, Joel Miller x F!Reader

Warnings/Tags: 18+ Minors, get out! Language(at this rate, just expect it. That's just me), Pregnancy, Dieter trying to fix his past, sad!Dieter, dad!Dieter, smut, pinv, oral(m!recieving), wedding crasher!Dieter, TIME TRAVEL, OFC

a/n: This is for the Roll-A-Trope Challenge by @burntheedges I got Time Travel! Never dabbled with that before but it was fun and sheesh, Kate- this is the longest story I've ever written! This could be considered a part two of Some Broken Hearts Never Mend but can be read as a standalone! The OFC is based off my bestie IRL @hessofather - thank you for being you, for helping me with the witchy stuff, and love ya bitch! Thank you @beefrobeefcal and @jay-zzle(for the moodboard &) for your eyes on this one! Love you both!

Masterlist||AO3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

He’d been staring at the clock for an eternity or what felt like an eternity. Today was the day, the day Dieter’s been dreading since he found out.

Today is your wedding day.

In typical Hollywood fashion, a friend of a friend let it slip when the wedding was. Saturday afternoon, 3 pm to be exact. Mark was supposed to be on standby to ensure Dieter stayed at home today and didn’t do something stupid, but what Mark didn’t expect was to be locked in the pantry with Dieter sitting outside.

“Dieter, come on man,” Mark pleaded, “Think about this before you do something dumb.”

“Would it really be that bad if I went?!”

“Yes,” Mark sighed, “Dieter, you need to let her go. If you go to that hotel all that will happen is you make a fool of yourself and embarrass her!”

“Embarrass her?!” Dieter scoffs, looking at the closed door with offense. “I got sober for fucks sake! For her and she didn’t even let me see my kid! Instead that bastard is playing daddy to my Lexi! My peanut!”

“Dieter!” Mark shouts, slamming his fists against the door, “Let me out and let’s talk face-to-face about this.”

“Sheesh Mark, calm down,” Dieter says, glancing at the clock, “If I go, maybe she’ll see me and remember how much she loved me. I gotta try right?”

“Dieter, please,” Mark sighs, “Don’t do this. It’s not a good idea.”

“I have to try, Mark.”

“Damn it, Dieter!”

More punches are being thrown at the pantry door as Dieter slowly backs away from it.

“If I don’t try now, I’m just going to spend the rest of my life wondering what if!” Dieter shouts, “Mark, you gotta understand that man.”

—

Dieter was able to bribe a waiter into letting him in through the kitchen, he had tried the front but the hotel staff quickly guided him right back through the front door. The place was gorgeous, decked in all navy blue, gold, and white, and the flower petals spread down the aisle he stood in front of. Joel is standing next to the officiant, fiddling with the gold cufflinks on his wrists. The bridal song began and everyone looked back at Dieter.

He stood there frozen, unsure of what to do until he heard the door behind him open, he turned slowly. There you were, standing before him in a gorgeous flowy white gown.

“Dieter?” You asked, confusion painted across your face before it turned into a silent rage.

“I- I need-“ he began, trying to think of what to say.

“Jesus Christ,” your father muttered under his breath before shouting for security.

“Wait-“ Dieter gasped, as two men in suits grabbed his arms pulling him towards the hall, “Please! Let me just ha-“

“Wait!,” you shout panicked, before clearing your throat, “Sorry everyone,” you announce, “Let me just take care of this real quick then we’ll be ready to get this wedding started.”

Dieter was dumbfounded. You were actually going to listen to him. You wanted to hear what he had to say. He knew it! He still had a chance. You let go of your dad’s arm and looped it around Dieter’s, leading him out into the hallway with a polite reassuring smile to your guests.

In another life, this would be the way it went. You in your gorgeous wedding dress, walking down an aisle on his arm, smiling politely to your guests before he whisked you away to ravish you the entire night. Once the doors closed, you stepped away from him clearing your throat.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing here?” You hiss, the rage in you tipping over its boiling point.

“I wanted to-“ he starts softly before you interrupt him again.

“Wanted what Dieter?!” You seethe, “Did you not feel it was enough when you showed up at my home? My work? Lexi’s fucking school?”

“I didn’t think-“ he winces, knowing immediately those are the wrong words with the laugh you let out.

“No Dieter, you didn’t fucking think,” you scoff, “You’ve spent the past six years not fucking thinking and it’s shown plenty!”

“Baby-“ Dieter tries again.

“Don’t you dare call me that!” You stop him, “Dieter, you need to leave. I’m marrying Joel and Lexi finally has a dad who wants her and loves her.”

“But I do love her,” Dieter says, tears blurring his vision, “That’s why I stayed away from you both. I love you both so much, I didn’t want you wrapped up in my shit and I’m trying to change!”

You shake your head with a sigh.

“You just have to give me another chance,” he whimpers, the tears steadily falling down his face.

“No,” you say quietly, “You’ve had enough chances.”

—

You were officially done with his shit and let him know he’d be hearing from your lawyers on Monday. His heart broken, his mind felt numb, and Dieter’s legs began to move. He felt like pins and needles were pricking all over his skin, trying to ignore the feeling, he began to speed up. He’d be fine as long as he kept moving. His chest felt like there was a weight on it, trying to catch his breath.

He needed to find somewhere with air conditioning, maybe it’s the heat finally getting to him. Standing outside a store called Vixen’s. Huh, he thought, a sex shop would be the perfect way to distract his mind. A dinging sound chimes as he enters the store.

“Good afternoon!” A cheery feminine voice calls out from the back, “I’ll be right with you.”

Dieter stood next to a counter, focusing on his breathing. The place smelled like sage, rose, and lavender. This was definitely not a sex shop. His hands held onto the counter in front of him as he closed his eyes and took in the sweet aroma of the shop. Whatever it was, it was working to help calm him down.

“Sir?” A feminine voice called out to him, “Ya alright?”

Dieter looked towards the voice to see a short woman with auburn hair standing next to a door that stated Employees Only. He gave a short nod, signaling he was okay. He just had to focus on his breathing.

“Fuck!” She gasped, flailing her hands in the air, “It’s you! C’mere!”

“Huh?” Dieter asked in confusion, trying to catch his breath.

“C’mere!” She said more sternly, motioning for him to follow her, “Been expectin’ you to show up any day now and you’re finally here!”

Dieter began to follow the stranger apprehensively down a hall, passing multiple doors, as she began to talk more.

“The names’ Willow Vixen. Now that you’re here, maybe I can finally stop using the rose.” She states, wrinkling her nose, “Not my favorite but that’s what the ball suggested for your arrival. Considering it doesn’t give me much of a time frame I figured fuck it and just started making sure it was around at all times.”

“Ball?” Dieter asks, his legs taking over, continuing to follow Willow until they meet a door that has her name on it, “I’m sorry but do I know you?”

“Not yet, Dieter,” Willow hums, grabbing a key ring from her belt loops, and unlocking the door, “When we get inside I’ll explain.”

Once she opened the door, he was hit with a powerful smell of sage and rosemary. She ushered him in, closing the door behind her.

“Sit,” she commanded, pointing to a table in the middle of the room.

He wasn’t sure what he was even doing here. Following a stranger into some back room of a store sounded like the beginnings of some ritual sacrifice and by the way her office was set up, it looked like it, too.

The room was dim before Willow fluttered about lighting candles while humming, beginning to shed more light on her space. He could see a table covered in an emerald green cloth with four chairs surrounding it, and a crystal ball sat upon a perch in the middle of it with dozens of candles surrounding it.

“So… uh,” Dieter hesitates, hands scrubbing through his hair. The fuck is he doing here? He should leave. Willow continues to hum while she lights more candles by a thick open book sitting on a desk, flipping through the pages before she stops.

“Ah-ha!” She announces with a joyous clap, “Would ya look at that! Found it on the first try.”

She looks up to see Dieter still standing by the door with a nervous energy about him.

“Gah damn it, Dieter,” she grumbles, approaching him, “Ain’t gonna hurt ya. I’m here to help ya. Now go on, sit,” Ushering him to the table, lightly patting him on the shoulders, “Let me just get a few more things ready before I truly start this process, alright?”

“Help me?” He asks, watching Willow move in the space around them. She grabbed a bottle and began spritzing it around the chair he sat in.

“Duh, I told ya,” Willow said with a raised eyebrow smirking, “Oh wait, maybe I didn’t? Did I?”

Dieter looked at her in bewilderment, continuing to watch as she placed the spray bottle of liquid beside him and grabbed incense instead, placing them in their holders and lit them.

“T- tell me what?” He asked nervously, placing his hands in his lap and beginning to fidget with his fingers.

“My apologies, sir.” Willow bows, “I am a witch! Well, kind of a-a witch. I’m a witch practicin’. My great great great great grandma was one and it kinda skipped a generation or two cause my folks decided we should follow Jesus instead. Ya in any sort of religion? I’ve been involved with… too many.”

Dieter shakes his head. Fuck, this is how it ends, he was right. She’s gonna sacrifice him.

“I’m spraying lavender right now to try and get your ass to calm down,” she states matter of factly picking the bottle up again, Dieter flinches when she sprays some directly onto his hair, “Your energy is thick with nerves. Now what was I sayin’?” She asked, stopping in place and staring at the table cloth.

“Oh yeah! Sorry, I have a disorder where my memory ain’t the best. Think Dory from Findin’ Nemo,” Willow smiles brightly, “I’m a witch and this here crystal ball-” she taps a finger against the clear ball in the middle of the table, “-showed me to be expectin’ ya.”

“Sh-showed you?” Dieter asks, cocking his head to the side with wide eyes.

“Yeah!” Willow exclaims, “Showed me you comin’ here, us doing some magic and then you fuckin’ off to whatever it is you’re tryin’ to change!”

“Wait,” Dieter stops, eyes widening, “What am I changing?”

“Beats me,” Willow shrugs, fanning the incense around before plopping down in the chair across from him, “Alls I know is I’m supposed to help ya get there.”

Dieter looks at her and then the ball in between them. It starts sparkling inside as the clear crystal becomes dense with a weird purple fog, swirling around the inside of the crystal.

“Oh shit! It’s doin’ the thing again!” Willow shrieks in excitement, bouncing in her chair, “I told ya the thing showed me what I needed to do! Maybe it’s trying to show you what you need to do.”

Dieter stares at the ball before the swirling fog reveals you lying in your shared bed years ago. He remembers this morning clear as day, it’s the morning before he went to that stupid party and relapsed.

“It’s her,” he chokes back a sob, “What kind of sick fucking trick is this?!”

“It’s not a trick!” Willow protests, “I’m tellin’ the truth! Just watch the damn thing!”

Dieter continues watching the fog swirl within the ball, seeing himself join you in bed. Dieter perks up as he watches himself undress you and begin worshiping you like the goddess you are. Willow clears her throat turning her head.

“Ope,” she murmurs, cheeks becoming flaming red, peering at the ceiling out of privacy, “Don’t think I’m supposed to watch this bit.”

Dieter is entranced, watching the two of you, reliving that entire day. Except in this version he never leaves the house, he stays home with you instead. That’s what he should have done, stay home and hang out with you instead of go to that stupid fucking party.

The purple fog disappears and the crystal becomes clear again, leaving Dieter even more confused.

“Wait!” He shouts, gripping the ball with both hands, “Come back! Show me more!”

“Now hold on just a damn minute,” Willow scolds, pushing his hands off the ball, “Don’t break my damn ball. It’s the only one I got.”

“But I want to see more,” Dieter lets out a pathetic whine, “How can I see more. Make it show me!” He demands.

“Not how it works, bub,” Willow huffs, “But, from the looks of it that’s where the ball wants me to send you.”

“S-s-send me?” Dieter stutters out with a scoff, “How are you gonna send me back to the happiest time of my life?”

“Time travel, duh,” Willow snorts, “The hell do you think you showed up here for?”

He looks at her with bewilderment. How the fuck is this girl supposed to help him go backwards in time?

“Now, now,” Willow says, clicking her tongue in annoyance, “I recognize that look. Ya don’t believe me,” she adds with a roll of her eyes, “I’ve got everything ready.”

She stands making her way to a small tea kettle, filling it with water from a jug before placing it on her desk beside the book. Willow moves through her office with a practiced ease, opening and closing cabinets, grabbing the things she’ll need for this ritual. Taking one last glance at the book on her desk before clearing her throat.

“Now, I’m gonna brew this tea for you to drink. It’s got some cloves, rosemary, garlic and cinnamon in it,” she explains, plunking and sprinkling the herbs in the kettle, “Oh shit!” She laughs, opening a desk drawer to pull out a small hot plate, “Ain’t gonna get very far without boilin’ it.”

Dieter watches as she softly hums, flitting about the room as the tea gets ready.

“Now, I got white sage and mullein burning already,” Willow explains pointing at each, “Helps with clarity.”

He nods, still confused and a little scared. He has no clue how this is supposed to actually work. Time travel isn’t real, this isn’t some movie like Back to the Future. Although, he thinks tilting his head, would be pretty cool to drive the DeLorean. His thoughts are interrupted by Willow chanting something over the tea right as the kettle lets out a shrill whistle. Willow pours the tea into a little cup bringing it over to the table, placing it in front of Dieter.

“Ain’t gonna lie to ya,” Willow grimaces, “Probably gonna be nasty as fuck with the herbs I had to use but it’s what the book said to use.”

“Probably not the worst thing I’ve ever ingested,” Dieter shrugs, “So how’s this work? Do I just drink it?”

Willow nods, “I said the spell, I have the scents going, all you have to do is keep an open mind,” she continues with a smile.

Dieter nods, staring at the cup. What’s the worst that could happen? His life is already fucked. At least he can say he tried if it doesn’t work, grabbing the cup and downing the drink. Willow was right- it’s rancid, he begins to cough placing the cup back on the table.

“Now what?” Dieter asks with a grimace, glancing at Willow.

“Now,” a grin spreads across her face, “We wait.”

- - -

The sun’s rays shone through the curtains causing Dieter to wince as he woke the next morning. How was he supposed to know if the ritual worked? Willow said they just had to wait. Wait for what though? Hearing a soft groan next to him he peeked one eye open at the sound, looking around he noticed this wasn’t his room. Well, more so not his room anymore. The soft yellow walls and white curtains had all been replaced after you left with dark grays.

Glancing next to him, he felt like his heart stopped. There you were, snoring softly next to him. Maybe he was dreaming and his mind decided to torture him, it wouldn’t be the first time it had happened but then you reached for him. Your hand laying on his chest above his heart. Dieter didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, shout with joy or all three at the same time. His palm reaches out, gently touching your face.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers to your sleeping form as he rubs the apple of your cheek with his thumb, “I was such a fucking idiot.”

You crinkle your nose and let out a huff as you sleep. A grin plastered across his face, he can’t believe it actually worked. If he ever sees Willow again he’s going to have to thank her. She may not know what for, with traveling back in time, but he’ll thank her anyway.

“You’re staring,” you let out a sleepy grumble.

“Can’t help it,” Dieter whispers, grinning like an idiot. You open an eye to look at him, raising your brows.

“Why are we whispering?” You giggle, scooting closer to lay your head on his chest, listening to the thump of his heartbeat.

Dieter takes a deep breath into your hair, shrugging his shoulders, wrapping his arms around you and holding you tight. Afraid if he loosens his grip you’ll be gone again. His hands begin to roam under your shirt, feeling the softness of your skin, the roundness of your belly. You’re still pregnant, grinning to himself as he sits up and moves you to lay on your back, rubbing his hands down to your hips. You’d always complained of them hurting with the added weight of Peanut, their little Lexi who would be coming into this world.

“Mmm,” you let out a soft moan, as his hands gingerly massage your hips, your fingers digging into his thigh, “Dieter.”

He couldn’t stop smiling, unable to believe this is actually happening again. Being with you, being back in your shared home, being here during the happiest time of his life. Dieter leans over your belly, pulling up your shirt to expose your bump, placing a soft kiss there.

“I love you,” he breathes out, his voice cracking before trying to get a grip on his emotions.

“Babe?” You ask, concern lacing your voice as you reach for him, “What’s wrong?”

“Missed you,” he says, kissing your bump again, “Both of you.”

“Babe,” you laugh, “All we did was go to sleep.”

“Yeah,” Dieter huffs, rolling his eyes, “Just went to sleep,” he hums, lifting your shirt more to uncover your breasts, his lips placing a trail of open mouthed kisses until he meets one of your nipples, sucking it into his mouth. You let out a soft hiss as your fingers tangle in the soft waves of his hair. There’s one thing Dieter knows he can’t fuck up, sex. He’ll figure the rest out later.

You moan as he spends equal time on each of your breasts, sliding a hand down your front into your underwear. Dieter lets out a groan when he feels the wetness already collected there. He needs this, to you it was yesterday, to him it’s been six years since he’s felt you around his cock.

“I need you,” Dieter grunts, pushing you on your side, flopping down behind you and pushing his boxers down. His stiff member pushing into your ass.

“Jesus, Dee,” you giggle as he quickly pushes your underwear down enough to get to your core, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Please don’t,” he whispers into your neck, slipping his length between your folds, coating himself in your arousal. Dieter grips his dick, slowly pushing into you, simultaneous moans spilling from both of you.

“Fuck, baby,” you moan, throwing your head back against his shoulder, “So fucking big.”

Dieter pants, feeling your walls constrict around him, stopping himself when he’s fully sheathed inside of you. He doesn’t want this to end before it’s even begun.

“Oh god,” he whimpers, grabbing your hand, lacing your fingers together, “Missed this.”

“Dieter,” you pant, hips squirming against him, “I need you to move, baby.”

He nods against your head, slowly pulling out, his tongue laving against your pulse point as he sharply pushes back in.

“Fuck,” you cry out, gripping his hand tighter. He knows it’s your favorite so he keeps the same rhythm, pulling out slowly before plunging back in. He can’t stop the words flowing from his mouth as he thrusts into you. His pace grows quicker as he speaks.

“Please don’t leave me,”

“I need you,”

“I love you,”

“I won’t fuck up again,”

“I promise,”

“I love you.”

Every phrase punctuated with a sharp thrust into your wet heat, producing a moan from your lips.

“Dieter,” you moan, “I’m gonna come, baby, I’m gonna-“

Dieter can feel the fluttering of your walls, gripping you tighter he moves faster, unable to control himself any longer.

“Fuck,” Dieter groans, “Look at me, baby.”

Your head lolling against his shoulder as his hips snap into you, he grips your face turning you to face him. Slotting his lips over yours, smothering your cries as your orgasm rips through you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dieter grunts, grinding his hips into you as your walls constrict around him, warm ropes of his come painting your insides. He kisses you softly while both of you try to catch your breath.

“You okay?” You ask, eyes gazing up at him.

Dieter nods, keeping his arms wrapped around you.

“Bad dream,” he murmurs into your hair.

“I’m sorry babe,” you give him a sympathetic smile, giving him a quick kiss before moving off of him with a hiss, “Wanna go look at stuff for the nursery?”

“Hmm,” Dieter hums, wrapping his arms around you again before you can leave the bed, “Let’s stay in bed all day.”

“We just woke up,” you squeak out with a giggle, as he pulls you back against him, “Already need a nap?”

“After that workout?” He laughs, kissing your neck, “Uh… yeah!”

Dieter’s eyelids are heavy. He felt calm, more at peace than he has been for years, having you back in arms, the comforting weight of you next to him. The hint of your perfume surrounding him, causing him to quickly drift back to sleep.

- - -

“Dieter wake up!” Mark shouts, “Time to go.”

Dieter jumps, how long had he been asleep? The room is dark as Mark flings the gray curtains open allowing the sun to burst in.

“What the fuck?” Dieter groans, covering his face with the pillow next to him, blocking the sun from his eyes. His sleep-addled brain hasn’t registered what’s happened.

“Come on, man,” Mark says more sternly, grabbing the covers to pull off of Dieter, “Gotta get Peanut.”

“Peanut?” Dieter asks, flipping the pillow off his face, sitting up taking in his surroundings, “No, no, no. This isn’t right.”

He looks around at the gray bedding, the curtains, the walls. Where’s your house? He was just there, wasn’t he? Was it just a dream after all?

“Yes. Peanut,” Mark says, giving him a confused look, “Lexi, Your daughter.”

“I know who Peanut is, Mark.” Dieter snaps, “But she won’t let me see her.”

“Dieter,” Mark scolds, “Do not tell me you've been using again.”

“What? No!”

“You’ve had your daughter every other week for years now.” Mark explains, “Are you sure you're not using anything?”

“You mean, I have custody?” Dieter asks, beginning to choke up, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

Whatever Willow did, it worked, well kind of. If Dieter had some sort of custody of Lexi that means he must have changed something going back in time.

“I gotta go see Willow.”

“Willow?” Mark asks, shaking his head, “Dieter, you don’t have time to go on some wild goose chase looking for whoever it is you’re talking about.”

Dieter rushes out of bed, grabbing random clothes he finds throughout his room to throw on, running down the stairs to find his crocs.

“Dieter!” Mark shouts after him.

“I gotta fix it, Mark,” Dieter yells back, finding his car keys, and opening the front door, “I gotta fix it!”

—

“Willow!” Dieter bellows, bursting into Vixen’s, “It worked! It kind of worked!”

He hears a crash a couple aisles over and a gah-damnit!, before Willow appears at the front of the shop.

“The hell you comin’ in here yellin’ about?” Willow asks, rubbing the top of her head, “You made me drop a jar of Dragon’s blood on my damn head. I do not need any more feminine power right now!”

“Sorry,” Dieter chuckles, “I think we need to do the ritual again. I have custody!”

“Custody?” Willow asks, confused.

“Custody of my kid, Willow!” Dieter says, gripping her shoulders giving her a little shake, “All I did was fall asleep, had a crazy vivid sex dream about my girl and now I have custody! I’ve never even met my daughter!”

“Alright, alright, alright,” Willow says, wiggling out of his grip, “Don’t touch me and I don’t wanna hear about your weird sex dreams but come on back.”

He follows her through the dark hall, to her office, the white sage and mullein is lit, the tea is brewed while Willow chants the magic words. He chugs it again. The warm liquid tingled in his throat as it went down.

“Not as bad the second time,” he sputters out through a cough, “Should you make extra so I can take it home?”

“Not how it works,” Willow chuckles, “Gonna have to come see me. Door will always be open.”

“I don’t understand how this is working at all,” Dieter admits, “All I did was go to sleep?”

“Maybe in your sleep is when you’re traveling,” Willow shrugs, “I won’t lie, I’m not sure how it works either. Remember, I’m new at this.”

—

Dieter leaves Vixen’s, feeling on top of the world as he makes his way to your house. He cannot believe he’s about to see his kid for the first time, well maybe not the first time but it is for this Dieter. He pulls up to the address he found saved into his phone under your name, taking a deep breath before getting out of his car.

He makes his way to the front door. It’s a different house than the last time he showed up, hoping you’d forgive him for running off and taking forever to get his shit together. Taking a deep breath he presses the doorbell, hearing the chime inside.

“Daddy!” He hears screeched from behind the door before it opens. A little girl looks up at him with wide brown eyes and soft curls.

“You came to get me!” She exclaims, grabbing his hand with both of her little ones and pulling him through the entrance.

“Y-yeah, I did,” Dieter murmurs, unable to stop staring at the back of her head. Her hair bounces with every step she takes as she continues babbling at him about something.

“Hey Dieter,” you smile at him from the couch with a book in your hand, “She’s been super excited for you to get her this week. Thank you again for keeping her an extra week.”

“Extra week?”

“Please don’t tell me you forgot,” you groan, “Dee, you promised me you wouldn’t forget! This is super important! Joel’s taking me to meet his family.”

“Joel?” Dieter asks, clenching his jaw, fingers flexing of his free hand against his thigh. Of course, Joel is still present.

You study his face, taking in the tension rolling off him in waves, putting your book down and getting off the couch.

“Peanut, baby,” you say in a sweet tone, “Why don’t you go upstairs and get your stuff ready so you can go have fun at Daddy’s?”

“Okay,” she chirps, climbing the steps to the second floor. Leaving the two of you alone.

“Dee?” You ask, approaching him, “You doing okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” Dieter lies with a nod of his head, “Just forgot you have plans next week.”

“Look,” you start, gripping his hand, “I know this whole thing is weird for you but I know one day you’re going to find someone to love,” Dieter’s thumb begins to rub against your fingers softly, noting the absence of a ring on your hand.

“You don’t get it,” Dieter scoffs, shaking his head, “It’s you. I want to be with you.”

“We tried Dieter,” you say, giving him a sympathetic smile, “We just aren’t meant to be.”

- - -

When he wakes next, Dieter is blinded by the brightness of the room, closing his eyes again, not ready to get up.

“Daddy,” a little voice says, poking his cheek with tiny fingers.

He groans feeling a weight on top of his chest. He can hear you humming softly downstairs in the kitchen, little fingers continue poking at his face trying to wake him.

“Peanut,” he chuckles, “Why are you poking my face?”

“Time to wake up!” She announces, standing up on chunky legs before plopping her butt back down. Dieter lets out a grunt before opening his eyes, spotting the soft yellow walls of the room. He can’t stop the smile forming on his face. He’s back to where he wants to be, this timeline seeming to be much better than the present.

“Come here,” Dieter playfully growls, tickling Lexi’s sides. Her high pitched squeals echoing throughout the house.

“Breakfast is ready!”

“Hear that Peanut?!” Dieter asks enthusiastically, “Momma made breakfast!”

“Breakfast!” Lexi shouts, throwing her arms up in the air, “I hungry!”

Dieter scoops her up as he gets out of bed, carrying the toddler with him down the stairs to the kitchen.

“Morning,” you hum, smiling at both of them, “The contractor was supposed to be here earlier but he overslept so said he’d be by soon.”

“Oh?” Dieter asks, setting Lexi down into her booster seat as if he’s done this every day, “Who’d we hire again?”

“Dieter, I swear,” you laugh, rolling your eyes, “You’d be so lost without me.”

“You have no idea,” he murmurs, kissing the side of your head as he grabs the plates of food you had set out, giving one to Lexi and sitting down next to her to eat his own.

“It’s Miller Bros,” you huff, “And no, they’re not like the Mario Brothers from Nintendo,” you add after seeing Dieter’s head perk up. You always were good about knowing what was on his mind.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” Dieter asks, stabbing his fork into the eggs, “Besides the contractor coming, I mean.”

“I don’t know,” you say, shrugging. The rest of the meal went on, the scraping of silverware against plates and random chatter from Lexi the only things to be heard. It was eerie how quiet you were, Dieter stared at you as you scrolled mindlessly on your phone. He can’t pinpoint what’s going on but he feels there is something different here. Lexi finishes her breakfast, scooting off her booster and running off to watch TV.

“Is everything okay?” Dieter asks, fidgeting with the fork in his hand, he can’t risk losing you but he needs to know the answer.

“No,” you admit quietly, “I just- I don’t know what to do anymore Dee.”

“What do you m-“ he tries, the doorbell chiming interrupting his sentence.

“That must be the contractor,” you sigh, “Wanna start the dishes while I get the door?”

“Uh, yeah,” Dieter nods, “Sure.”

He gathers the dishes, rinsing each item before putting them in the dishwasher, hearing you speak with the contractor.

“I’m so sorry ma’am,” the contractor says with a gruffness in his voice, “Would’a been here earlier but my idiot brother wrote the time down wrong.”

“No worries,” you reply in a cheery tone, “You deserve the extra sleep, you work so hard.”

Dieter hears a deep chuckle from the man and a thank you, you’re too kind darlin’. It makes his stomach twist, he knows who this is. Joel fucking Miller. Can he not escape this guy?

Dieter slams the dishwasher closed, pacing throughout the kitchen. In his present time, the man is there. Now in his supposed past the man shows up too?! He wishes he could call Willow but a quick google search shows that Vixen’s doesn’t exist just yet, groaning as he tosses his phone onto the counter. What is he supposed to do?

He sees through the doorway how you look at Joel, the sparkle in your eyes, the way you seem almost bashful as Joel continues to talk about the most mundane things. Dieter can’t help the idea that’s popped into his head as he makes his way to the couch, sitting with your shared daughter as she watches cartoons.

It wouldn’t be the craziest thing he suggested, he’s Dieter Bravo. He’s definitely said worse things in interviews. He continues watching the two of you, the slight smirk on Joel’s face, the shy smile gracing your own.

Maybe if you fucked Joel you’d get it out of your system.

Dieter sees the attraction to Joel, of course he does. He’s rough, burly, and has that southern charm about him. The way his shirt hugs his biceps, his jeans clinging to his thighs. Joel clears his throat and Dieter snaps his head up, finding Joel staring directly at him, having been caught ogling he can feel his face turning a shade darker. You smile at Dieter, covering your mouth while a giggle escapes your lips.

“I’m gonna get started on the bathroom,” Joel says, eyeing Dieter on the couch, “Don’t let me interrupt your morning, Hollywood,” he adds with a wink.

You make your way to the couch, curling into Dieter’s side.

“So,” you giggle, with that sparkle still in your eyes, “Joel, huh?”

“Joel,” Dieter smirks, wrapping his arm around you, nodding his head. He brings you closer to his side, kissing your temple, before he scoops Lexi into his other side, keeping both his girls close to him.

- - -

“Dieter,” Mark says, giving Dieter’s shoulder a shove, “Need to wake up, you’re home.”

“Home?” Dieter grumbles, scrubbing his hands down his face, he feels metal on one of his fingers. Eyes popping open, he spots a band on his left hand. Married. He’s married?

“Yeah, home,” Mark chuckles, “And don’t worry. I took care of everything so the three of you could spend some time together for the next couple days.”

Dieter grins, saying your name out loud quizzically, he needs to make sure it worked this time. Mark nods, he gets to spend time with his girls. His girls. Dieter hops out of the car, grabbing the duffle bag from the backseat.

“Thanks for the ride Mark,” he hollers as he makes his way to his front door, shaking with nerves as he stands there. Taking a deep breath he opens the door to find the house covered in darkness, flipping on the light he takes in the room before him. Toys, books, and small shoes scattered around. His smile grows wider as he hears a noise from upstairs.

You must be upstairs waiting for him. Dieter sets his duffle bag down next to the door before flinging his crocs off on his way up the stairs. The door of the master bedroom is opened by a jar and he can hear grunts coming from within.

Fuck, Dieter thinks, manly grunts can only mean one thing.

He tiptoes to the door opening it more, seeing you naked on your knees before Joel. His thick cock in your mouth as you bob your head faster along his length.

“S’it baby,” Joel groans, throwing his head back as you take more of him down your throat, “So fucking good at that.”

You’re moaning as he grips your head, holding you on his cock.

“Fuck,” Dieter whispers, feeling his dick twitch with interest, watching you gag on Joel’s length. Joel’s head snaps towards the doorway.

“Ya just gonna stand there Hollywood or ya gon’ join?” Joel smirks, eyeing Dieter up and down, “We’ve missed you.”

You moan, pulling off Joel's cock with a soft pop, twisting your body to see Dieter.

“Hi baby,” you purr at him, “Glad that you’re home.”

Dieter stands there frozen, watching you stroke Joel’s shaft with a sly grin.

This present time is nice, Dieter thinks with a smirk on his face, I can live with this.

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo smut #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #dieter bravo fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #roll a trope challenge

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aurorawritestoescape · 1 year ago

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Welcome to my Masterlist, lovely! I hope you’ll enjoy my work<3

Series / Collections

BAD BLOOD - step uncle Joel Miller x f!reader x stepdad Tommy Miller

Summary: you want your stepdad and your step uncle offers to help

*****

KISS KISS BANG BANG - no outbreak Joel Miller x f!reader (bank robbers AU)

Summary: Joel and you live a life full of risk, thrill and danger. Every day can be your last, so you savour every kiss and enjoy each other to the fullest. Can you survive this journey to your dreams?

*****

PERFECT STRANGERS - no outbreak Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: What would you do if you met a perfect stranger? Someone who understands what you've hidden deep inside your soul. The attraction is instant. It's perfect. What if you don't want to be strangers anymore?

*****

HEATWAVE collection - Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: They are horny. They are filthy. They are in love.

It’s a collection of one-shots following the same couple. Every story can be read alone.

One Shots

Hot shower -pre-outbreak Joel Miller x f!reader pwp

Strawberries and cream- no outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader DDLG

Sweet remedy - no outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader DDLG

A Villain’s Monologue - serial killer!Joel Miller x f!reader dark fic

The Helping Hand - post-outbreak Joel Miller x f!reader somno

Keep On Your Mean Side - post-outbreak Joel Miller x f!reader (written with @milla-frenchy) dark fic

Birthday Surprise - no outbreak Joel Miller x f!reader x Tommy Miller mfm

Jacket -no outbreak Joel Miller x f!reader fluff

The Burglary - burglar!Joel Miller x f!reader x burglar!Tommy Miller (written with @milla-frenchy) dddne, non-con

Flasher - flasher!Joel Miller x f!reader exhibitionism

Flower - post outbreak Joel Miller x f!reader dead dove, dark fic

Bad Girl - Joel Miller x f!reader x Tommy Miller (written with @milla-frenchy) dubcon

Morning Bliss - post outbreak Joel Miller x f!reader smut, fluff

Cockwarming Joel - blurb

Feed Me - Joel x f!reader pwp

His - dark!Joel x f!reader x dark!Tommy x m!OCs DDDNE NON CON

Always and Forever - post outbreak Joel x f!reader angst

Ribbon - Joel x f!reader pwp

Good Girl - Professor Joel Miller x f!reader

American Beauty -best friend’s dad Joel x f!reader part 2 Please, Sir

Take Me smut, angst

Swallow blurb, smut

Joel Miller x f!reader x Dave York mfm

Pt 1 Table for three Pt 2 Who’s your daddy? drabble Get a Taste

I know better than to call you mine fluff, smut

Heatwave pwp

Sweet Cherry virginity loss

In His Arms QZ Joel

Hot for You - drabble

Fill Me Up

Going Down - Joel x reader, Frankie Morales x reader

Wallet Photo - dbf Joel

The Other Brother - twin AU Johnny Miller x reader, Joel x reader

✨MEOW! - pwp

✨A Step Into Hell - stepdad!Joel

✨ Halloween Night - stepdad Joel Halloween special

✨ Craving You - Halloween writing challenge fic

✨ His Star - smut, angst

The Party - dark!Lucien Flores x f!reader non con

The Beast Within- dark!Ezra x f!reader dark fic

One Shots

The Visit semi-public

Surveillance voyeurism

Drabble based on a gif

Shaving Javi drabble

Steam

Series

The Hounds of Hell - Javi x f!reader x Steve written with @milla-frenchy

Summary: you meet two DEA agents in a bar. You drink too much and they offer to take you home.

Watching You - Dave York x f!reader voyeurism

After Watching you - drabble

Flat line - dark!Dave York x f!reader dark, noncon

Table for three - Dave x reader x Joel mfm

The Devil in Me - devil!Dieter Bravo x actress! reader

SERIES MASTERLIST

Other Pedro characters

Addicted - Max Phillips x f!reader smut, angst

Destinies Intertwined - General Marcus Acacius x f!reader x Lucilla mff

The Hoodie - Frankie Morales x reader blurb

Going Down - Frankie x f!reader, Joel x f!reader

Non Pedro characters

Sunset - boyfriend Billy (Skeleton Twins) x f!reader Boyd Holbrook character, smut

AO3 /not all fics are there

Joel Miller pencil drawing

Javier Peña pencil drawing

I saved her the last of us 2 edit

If I ever were to lose you Joel and Ellie tlou 2

Pedro Pascal lockscreens 1 | 2 | 3

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cerridwen007 · 6 months ago

Text

Unwind.

*Images are from Pinterest and are used for aesthetics only.

Pairing: Boyfriend!Dieter Bravo x f!reader (afab)

Word count: 4.1k (18+) MINORS DNI!

Summary: Your boyfriend, Dieter, has come home early from a project. Hoping to surprise you, he instead gets a surprise of his own when he discovers what you like to do unwind alone from a long day.

Notes/warnings: Smut, fluff, DUB-CON (one party is under the influence of ouid but they are both very into it), established relationship, accidental pervy!Dieter, accidental exhibitionism, pussy drunk Dieter, masturbation (f and m), sex toys, descriptions of smoking the devils lettuce, mentions of other drugs, porn with little plot, oral (f!receiving), piv sex, cumplay, they are both just super horny and sweet for each other, swearing, no y/n.

a/n: My first Dieter fic, I can’t remember really where or when I got the idea for this fic, but I knew it just screamed Dieter. This is probably quite up there with the filthiest thing i've written, and i'm not sorry, lol. Also, I apologise for my very long absence in posting writing. Life just got the best of me, and I lost all motivation pretty much to write. Ngl I don't think this is my best work, cause I'm a little rusty but it's fun and I enjoyed writing it. But anyway, I hope y'all enjoy, and any interactions with my posts mean the world to me. Love yall so much! <3

*******

Now that his months-long project had wrapped up early, all Dieter wanted to do was surprise you. The both of you had long played the game of hiding behind corners and hiding in all sorts of spots to try and scare each other, all throughout your relationship.

But more often than not, it was you that made his heart jump out his chest, and a long list of swear words leave his mouth as he over-dramatically clutched his chest. To which you always laughed so hard you cried a little at another successful scare and his reaction. “I'll get you next time.” he mumbles, under his breath, a cheeky grin on his handsome face as he plans when best to get you back.

So now, with an upper hand, he was hoping that he could give you a big fright and jump out of your closet when you least expect it. But what happened was so much more surprising.

You had just gotten back to your shared apartment after what felt like the longest week of your life. You had been drowning in deadlines at work and were so glad that it was friday evening so you could finally get a proper break. After ‘gracefully’ hanging up your jacket on the hooks near the front door and tossing your keys into the bowl on the entryway table, you immediately take off your bra as you walk into your apartment. Throwing it on the back of one of the barstools sitting in front of your kitchen island.

A loud sigh exhaling from your mouth as the pressure is released from your sore shoulders. It had been a long day at work before you ran around afterwards, getting a whole bunch of errands done that you had been putting off. So you were exhausted and understandably so.

You kick off your shoes as you walk through the messy apartment, not bothering to put them away where they belong or tidy up the growing mess just yet. No, first you need to unwind from the long ass week you had. Besides, the weekend started tomorrow, and you would have plenty of time to clean up then and before Dieter came back a week and a half from now.

You sighed again sadly thinking about your boyfriend. God, you missed him. He had been gone about 3 months now, and each day didn't get any easier. When the two of you were together, you were attached at the hip. Spending all the time you could together; talking, laughing, cuddling and fucking.

So it was quite a change the last few months going from spending almost all your time with your favourite person to almost none, except the few short calls Dieter managed to find time to have with you amongst his very busy schedule.

You tried to remind yourself of the fact that Dieter would be back before you knew it, and then you could once again spend all the much needed time together that you wanted.

You opened your fridge looking for a snack. You could have to tie your over till dinner that you would order yourself later, a treat for the end of a busy week.

You picked a few string cheese packets from the chilly shelves of your fridge before closing it shut with your hip as you walked off into your living room. Sitting down with a big “oof” on your couch and immediately sinking deep into the plush cushions as far as you could.

Dieter's heart was beating fast as he watched you through the horizontal slats of the storage closet door. He waited with baited breath, trying to find the perfect time to jump out and give you both the scare and surprise of a lifetime. He had been lucky enough to arrive an hour or so before you got home, which gave him plenty of time to get ready and pick the best hiding spot before you arrived.

He bites his lip, trying to hold back the chuckles wanting to escape as he imagined your hopefully soon to be shocked face. He watches as you get comfy on the couch and can’t help but look at you with adoration, even with dark circles under your eyes and your hair slightly untamed, you looked like a dream, the prettiest thing he has seen.

You quickly finish your cheese sticks, hungrier than you thought you were, and toss the wrappers on the coffee table. Yet another thing to be cleaned up tomorrow. You let out a long yawn and stretched your arms above your head. A cheeky smile graces your mouth as you realise how you're going to spend the rest of your night unwinding.

You waste no time in reaching into the draws of your coffee table before you and pulling out a dark green bong with small red flowers decorating it that Dieter got you for your birthday last year. You put it down the top of the coffee table briefly as you pull out a matching glass box with your stash in it and a red grinder.

Your fingers are working swiftly in their practiced work as you get your first cone ready. You pull out your black zippo lighter with your and Dieters' initials and the day the two of you started dating engraved on the front. You flick your thumb over the flint wheel a few times until it ignites. You take in a fraction of a breath before putting your mouth on the end of the glass tube, tilted towards you.

Holding the flame over dried grounds, watching as the white smoke slowly crawls up the neck of the bong. You let the smoke enter your lungs, filling you with warmth.

Your lips only disconnect when all the smoke is gone and you breathe in a little of fresh air. You hold it in your mouth for a few seconds before you tilt your head back and exhale all the hazy smoke. Your loose fist covers your mouth when you let a small cough.

You decide to do one more hit before you put down the ‘vase’ and let your head rest against the center of the back of the couch. Your legs spread wide, carelessly, as you wait for the drug to slowly take its effects. You groan as you lie back on the couch with a mouthful of smoke. You tilt your head up to look up at the ceiling as you let the hazy white cloud float from your parted lips.

Reaching down beside you, your fingers find something from out under your couch, a rectangle box. You open it to reveal a matte purple 8 inch, life-like, dildo. Fit with veins, balls at the base, and all. Your mouth waters just from the sight.

You have been extremely horny as of late. You always are when Dieter goes away for long periods of time, and you don’t have him to give you toe-curling orgasms all the time. You can never make yourself cum quite as hard as Dieter can make you come, but not from lack of trying. You lazily scoot down the couch a bit so you can take your pants and underwear off.

Dieter eyes bulge in head when he realises what you about to do and he swears his heart skips a beat when he sees that you're wearing his boxer briefs, even more so when he sees a glistening line of arousal, saturating them. He palms his now fully erect cock through his jeans, as his eyes connect with your glistening folds.

You take the hefty dildo out of the box and half haphazardly toss the container to the ground. Your breath hitches in your throat as you make quite work of sliding it through your folds, the tip catches deliciously on your clit.

You toss it to the side for a quick sec and reach down to your bong on the coffee table, after taking another cone you put it back on the table and grab the remote of the table, flicking on the tv and putting on one of your favourite vibey sex playlists on spotify on.

You sigh as you lean back and you take off your work shirt, leaving you in nothing but a flimsy old tank top, which you nipples prominently stick out of and some cosy socks. You pull your breasts out of your shirt and start groping yourself while watching the screen playing at a low volume, with hazy eyes.

You soon pick the silicone dick up again and slowly tease yourself by tracing around your lips and through your dripping seam. Your head lulls on the back of the couch. You tease around your aching hole with the tip before pushing in ever so slightly. Your eyes roll back for a second as you moan at the slight stretch. “D-dieter.” You softly call out.

His eyes bulge out of his sockets watching you, his hand unconsciously reaching down under the elastic of his pants to feel his rock-hard erection. He swipes his thumb over his weeping tip and has to bite back a groan.

You pump in so slowly, only till it reaches halfway before you pull it out further again. You continue this to help work yourself open.

He watches you intently, stroking himself to the slow rhythm youv’e set for fucking yourself. He uses his other hand to pinch his base every few minutes, to keep from blowing his load, so close just from the sight of you.

God, he doesnt even care about scaring and surprising you anymore, all he cares about is watching you as you fuck your self, quietly calling out his name as you take your time in getting to your release. He has half a mind to just jump out now and fuck you himself but the sight of you spread out for him, caught up in your own little pleasure-filled world is a sight to good to be true.

He studies your form like he doesn't know it like the back of his hand, like he hasn't spent hours upon hours coaxing the prettiest little moans and whimpers from you, caressing over every single inch of you.

His eyes will never grow tired of the sight of you, your centre gushing with arousal, your eyes fighting to stay open, your mouth on the other hand, fighting to stay closed as a beautifully orchestrated ensemble of curses, moans, groans and his name come flooding out of your mouth.

His mouth waters as the ring of your arousal grows thicker around the base of the silicone cock. He missed the taste of you so much, while he was away. He loved spending hours between your legs, until you were shaking and overstimulated and had to beg him to stop. Crying out “Dieter! Please!” as you struggled to push away his starved mouth.

Your head is feeling quite light now, and the pleasure is rushing through your veins as you increase the speed of your strokes. You keep chanting Dieter’s name, over and over again, softly as if it will summon him somehow. Well shit, maybe it does.

Before he even realises what he is doing, his hand is fumbling for the doorknob of the closet, and he is stepping out, sweaty, and disheveled, all just from watching you. Your heart stops for a second as you hear the closet door near you open, your brain unable to come up with any sane reasonings until Dieter walks out flushed and sheepishly in a trance, consumed by his love and lust for you.

“Dieter?” You whisper, shocked to your core, that he is standing in front of you and still not entirely convinced that he isn't a hallucination caused by your hornyness and longing for him. And also maybe the drugs too.

He swallows harshly, his throat dry. All the liquids in his body seemingly have traveled lower in anticipation. You're about to jump up from the couch and squeeze him till his ribs break, but he beats you to it, sinking to the floor in front of you and hugging your calves tightly. As much as you missed your baby, you can't help but feel a little awkward, having been caught masturbating and still with the dildo between your legs, no doubt.

Before you can even clear your throat and try to explain yourself, Dieter starts kissing along the tops of your thighs, up your stomach, then sternum, up your throat till his lips lock onto yours. He kisses you with such meaning and passion as he tries and conveys all the feeling of how much he missed you and is so glad to see you now into a single kiss

“God. I. Missed.You. So. Much. Baby.” He says in between quick pecks before once again consuming your mouth with his own, trying to make up for all that lost time he wasn't able to taste your lips on his.

You break the kiss with a gasp, looking down to your legs where Dieter is spreading them to see the current state of your throbbing pussy. “Fuck and it sure looks like she missed me too, huh sweetheart. Just oozing and weeping, begging for my touch. Ain't that right baby?” He lovingly teases.

You grin and spread your legs even further to let him get an even better look at you swollen, glistening folds, still clenching around the girth of the dildo. He reaches his hand up between your legs and pulls the toy in and out of you slowly, eliciting a whimper from you.

“Fuck.” He groans, completely enthralled by the sight of you, and the growing creamy ring of arousal you have created around the base of the cock. He continues to slowly pump it in and out of you, as you squirm above him, your once lost orgasm now coming so close to grasp again.

“Dieter...please.” You croon, begging him not to stop as you feel the edge of your high starts to wash over you.

“Atta girl, fuck just like that. Cum for me baby.” He softly demands, as he works the now shiny dildo hard, fast and deep into your cunt. He sits up a bit on his knees and hovers over you.

Leaning his head to the side he starts to suck on your pulsing clit. His eyes roaming between your leaking hole and trembling thighs, up to your red, cloudy eyes struggling to stay open with your brows furrowed above them. Your mouth agape, curses and whimpers as your orgasm hits you full force.

He watches with blown eyes, mouth hanging open, nearly drooling at the sight of your back arching off the couch, as the waves of your orgasm crash over you. He slowly pumps the cock in and out of you, prolonging your high till your legs close firmly around it. He carefully opens them back enough so he can pull out the cock.

He palms himself as he inspects the aftermath, mouth watering from the sight and smell of your creamy residue slathered upon the tip to the flared base of the slick silicone. He sticks out his tongue and brings the base, where most of the cum has gathered in a band round the bottom, to his mouth. You watch stunned and too aroused to speak as he licks it clean of your sweet drippings.

“God baby, missed the taste of this sweet pussy.” he groans. You clench around nothing as you watch him, eyes fluttering behind closed lids, messily tongue the silicone like one might lick brownie or cookie batter of a spatula.

After he finishes with the lower half, his lips pink and shiny, he wordlessly brings the tip up to your face. You grin devilishly before opening your lips wide and sucking the fat head into your mouth. You too moan at the sweet taste of yourself, not often shared directly from the source but usually from Dieters tongue do you taste the sticky release of your climax.

He palms his painfully hard cock through his pants, before spreading your thighs wide once again, and feasting on the remaining juices. You moan as best as you can with the cock down your throat, before removing it from your mouth and sitting it beside you as you watch Dieter's beautiful curls bob up and down between your legs.

His tongue slides from your quivering hole to your clit, licking flatly. He alternates between sucking your nub, to fucking into your wet hole.

You fight to keep your thighs open, to not crush his head or let the gorgeous sight below you be hidden, but you can’t any more as the drug haze inside your veins seems to have taken all your strength. Sensing your struggle, Dieter curls his arms around your thighs, holding them open and drags your center closer to his hungry mouth.

You whimper at the dull pain that you feel from his tight grip holding you apart, just under your breaking point. The aching soreness from your legs being spread so wide, only adding to the intensity of pleasure rolling around in your stomach.

He alternates between eating you messily, and slowly picking you apart. Motorboating his lips and nose between your folds, and precise and firm licks on your clit while curling his thick fingers up into that sweet, sweet spot inside you, that has you moaning, incohesive gibberish from your pleasure and drug intoxication.

Even with Dieter being the sober one (surprisingly), he sounds just as wrecked as you, if not more. So drunk and intoxicated on you and your pussy, something he and you both thought he was deprived of way too long.

Soon you are reaching yet another, and surely not the last of night, orgasm. Your thighs shake with the intensity of the pleasure seeping into your veins. Your lips go from being an wide ‘o’ shape to a cheesy wide grin as the dopamine and endorphins flood your system.

Dieter makes sure he licks up every single drop of your essence before he rises off his knees slightly and encases you in a massive, big bear hug. Feeling what little air was left in your lungs, you giggle along with Dieter breathlessly as you squeeze his middle just as hard.

He lifts his head to plant the softest, sweet kiss on your lips before rubbing his nose against yours. You take a deep, tired breath in and your eyes flutter close, his delicious musky scent filling your nostrils once again.

“I missed you so much too, baby.” You whisper. You admire the deep crows feet around his eyes as he grins, his dark rich eyes sparking as he beams with happiness, love, and lust. His smile turns into something that of the devils as he begins to caress your body.

He lifts up your arms and takes off your tank top, throwing it on the ground somewhere. Before his lips lock onto your pebbled nipples. Groaning as he squeezes and plays with the other one, before switching his mouth over. After leaving your tits a glistening, saliva-covered mess he descends further down your body, his kiss-bruised lips planting themselves on every single inch of skin he can see.

“Mm need to fffffuck you sweetttt thing, and ffffeel that heavenly p-pussy wwwrapped around me againnn.” He mumbles, his lips smushed against your stomach. You softly laugh and nod your head. Getting the gist of what he was saying and knowing him well enough to know what he said that you didn't catch.

“Please Dieter. Please fuck me. Need… to feel you. Missed you…. and your cock…. so fucken much.” You garble out in your own form of a coherent sentence.

Dieter can’t help but whimper listening to you, his cock pulses with need for release as he listens to your confession (although mumbled) of need for him.

He can’t wait any longer.

He reaches under your ass and lifts you up and shifts you so you're lying on your back longways on the couch. He quickly shucks his shirt off, getting a little stuck in the process as he does so. You both giggle and laugh as your hands go up to help him. He soon pulls it off and makes quick work off, shoving his pants and boxers off his legs.

Both of your eyes are shining with something so deep and emotional as you admire each other's naked bodies. A sight seen countless times between the two of you but one that neither would ever grow sick of. You reach up and stroke your hands up and down Dieter's front, feeling his strong chest and plush belly that you love very, very much. He whimpers as your hands trail down into the coarse hair at the base of his leaking cock.

Even as he towers over your relaxed form, there is an air of submission to him still. The way his eyes are glazed over with no other drug than love, pupils blown wider than when he was higher than a kite on LSD. His eyes brows slightly furrowed in, his chest moving fast as he pants. His bottom lip trembling with anticipation of connecting your bodies together so intimately once again how they should be. How they would always be if Dieter got a chance.

He shakes himself out of his love trance and lowers himself over you, his forearms resting on the couch beside your head. You close your eyes and kiss him deeply, giving him a piece of you that no one but him gets to have. Literally and spiritually. He groans almost pathetically when you reach your hand down and swipe his tip through your once again dripping folds.

Your squinting and red eyes look up at him pleadingly, just begging to put the both of you out of the agonising wait and finally feel each other. He smiles a soft smile before he lines himself up and slowly pushes into your pulsing cunt.

“Ohhhh….ohhh…oh…yeah, honey.” He moans out as he slowly bottoms out in your cunt. You gasp as you adjust to his considerably large girth. Something you truly will never fully get used to. Your hands clutch as his biceps, grounding yourself as your fluttering pussy adjusts to him.

“God….fucken hell, baby. You feel somehow even better than I remember. Jesus christ.” He pants, his face screwing up from the pleasure just simply inside your beautiful heat gives him. He desperately tries to think of anything else other than your stunning form below him and just made for him cunt, feeling already so close to blowing his load.

He reaches down and pinches his base and quickly begins Jack hammering into you fast and hard, to hopefully get you off before he ultimately finishes way quicker than he intended to.

“Oh f-f-fuck, Dieter!” You cry out, eyes squeezing tight at the immediate hard and fast pace Dieter has set while fucking you.

“Im s-sorry b-baby. Fuckkk. You just feel too damn good. I just n-n-need. Ahhh. Need you come before I-I-I do.” He stutters.

Your heart and cunt clenches around, eyes rolling back from the pure ecstasy coursing through your as Dieter repeatedly stuffs his fat tip into the squishy part deep inside you.

“OoOoh shit, baby. Can feel you clenching real good around me, god damn!” He groans.

You lay there bonelessly, whimpering as Dieter’s fingers circle you clit just right. Sending you over the edge into the deep depths of mind-numbing pleasure. Your body shakes as your orgasm comes crashing down and over you, with Dieter only seconds after.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Oh oh oh shit,” He wails out with every rope of cum that spurts out of him, his hips almost unconsciously thrusting themselves as deep as they can go every time, only stopping on the last rope of cum, burying his now spent cock deep into your pussy. He lets his full weight drop on top of you as he catches his breath from his own high.

You breathe out with a soft smile, feeling such bliss and warmth from Dieter being here with you. He moves his head from your neck and looks at you. You both smile wide and break in hearty chuckles, before kissing each other.

You relish in the feeling of Dieter’s chest booming with laughter pressed up against yours, feeling his beating heart beat under you hand, showing that he is here with you now and just Dieter in general, his body fitting on top of your like a puzzle, like two pieces that you never would’ve known hadn't always been connected together like this.

And that’s exactly how you fall asleep, entwined in each others arms, connected in all ways possible, smiling to yourself as you listen to Dieter’s soft snores and you feel his heart beating strongly against yours, before you two let the sweet blissful temptations of sleep take you too. Everything was going to be okay now that your love was back with you.

*********

#dieter bravo #dieter x reader #dieter bravo fanfiction #the bubble fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo fanfic

105 notes · View notes

hauntedhowlett-writes · 5 months ago

Text

𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐂 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐄

PAIRING: DIETER BRAVO X WITCH!FEMALE READER

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+ MDNI) | WORD COUNT: 1.2k

SUMMARY | Date a witch, they said. It’ll be fun, they said. Tell that to Dieter, who’s currently strapped to the headboard by his wrists while he watches you light what seems like a thousand candles littered across every surface of your bedroom.

AUTHOR'S NOTE | Just a silly lil thing lightly based on this tik tok and enabled in large part by @pedgito and @chaotic-mystery.

ways to help palestine

WARNINGS | explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), porn without plot, established relationship, no use of y/n, able bodied reader, no physical descriptions of reader, use of restraints, sex magic/sex rituals, some dom/sub dynamics, praise, dirty talk, woman on top, oral (m and f receiving), sixty-nine position, unprotected p in v. kindly let me know if i've missed any!

Date a witch, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.

Tell that to Dieter, who’s currently strapped to the headboard by his wrists while he watches you light what seems like a thousand candles littered across every surface of your bedroom. You’re wearing one of those dramatic robes, the sheer kind that flows to the floor with feathers around the wrists and collar. It reminds him of something he’d see in a movie, worn by a woman holding a candelabra as she runs from the ghosts of her mistakes through a dark castle.

You finally finish with the candles, blowing out the match pinched between your fingers. The room is bathed in a warm glow and the temperature has kicked up a few notches, sweat forming on Dieter’s brow. He watches you pull at the string holding the robe closed, the fabric falling to the floor and revealing your mouth watering choice of lingerie.

“Damn,” Dieter breathes, craning his head to look at you. A sultry smile tilts your lips.

“Ready to begin?” You ask. Dieter blinks.

“I’ve been ready, baby,” he replies with a wiggle of his brows, glancing at the prominent bulge in his boxers.

“That comes later.”

“It sure does.”

“Dieter, this isn’t the time for jokes.”

“I never joke about my dick.”

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. “You’re not taking this seriously.”

“Taking what seriously, it’s just sex. We do it all the time.”

“This is a sex ritual, Dieter.”

“A ritual? That’s what the candles are for?” He looks around the room nervously. “Are you about to sacrifice me or some shit?”

“Why, are you offering?” When Dieter pulls at the restraints in a panic, you laugh. “No, it’s not a sacrifice. We’re just enhancing our cosmic energy.”

“Cosmic energy, huh? Sounds kinda cool,” he says, relaxing back against the cool silk sheets. “Alright, I’m in.”

You climb up onto the mattress, throwing a leg over his waist and settling your weight on his hips. Your ass grazes the sensitive tip of his cock in the process and he hisses at the sensation. You drag your nails down his chest, goosebumps erupting in their wake. You press your palms to his chest, your head dropping back as you hum, rocking your hips the slightest bit. Dieter pulls on the restraints, desperate to touch you.

“Settle down, baby,” you coo, lifting your head. “Just relax.”

“Wanna touch you,” he whines, flexing his hips. You click your tongue, leaning forward and sticking your hand beneath the pillow beside his head and pulling out a tube of lipstick. “There’s hidden props?”

“Yes, now hush. I have to concentrate,” you admonish. You uncap the gold tube, slicking the red cream on your lips. You bring it down to his chest, drawing lines and swirls across his skin. Satisfied, you cap the tube and lean forward, pressing a lingering kiss to his neck right over his pulse. Your hand spans his jaw, tilting his lips to yours in a kiss that makes his toes curl.

You pull away, lifting off of him to stand beside the bed. Slowly, you peel the fabric of your panties down your thighs, followed by a tantalizing show of unhooking your bra and adding it to the heap on the floor. When you’re fully nude, you move to the foot of the bed, reaching up and curling your fingers beneath the elastic of his boxers and dragging them down his legs. His cock bobs free of its confines, standing proud with a shiny bead of precum gathered at the tip.

With both of you bare, you crawl onto the bed between his legs, hands on his thighs. His breathing has become ragged with the sensuality of it all. You look like a goddess in the low light, eyes dark and curves a gift from Aphrodite herself.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” you murmur. “You’re going to eat my pussy while I suck your cock until I cum all over your stupidly handsome face. If you need anything, or to stop, snap your fingers three times. Okay?” Dieter nods his head, but you click your tongue in dissatisfaction. “Words, baby.”

“Yes, yeah, oui, sí,” he spits out. “Get your pussy up here.”

You maneuver yourself until your knees are on either side of his head and he gets treated to a front seat view of your gorgeous cunt and your heady aroma invades his senses. He wastes no time getting a taste, sliding his tongue through your slick folds with a hunger he hadn’t realized was so ravenous. He’s no stranger to your body, knows exactly how to make you shake with pleasure and gets his own joy from making you fall apart, but there’s something in the air tonight that gives him a single minded determination to make you cum as quickly as possible.

You take him into the tight wet heat of your mouth and he groans against you, doubling his efforts to get you off. He wishes he could dig his fingers into your hips and hold you in place over his tongue but as it is, he’s a tool for your pleasure and you’re free to chase it as you see fit, grinding against his face and tongue to your own rhythm.

Pressure begins to build and he whines, hips flexing and forcing his cock into your throat. You take the intrusion in stride, no small feat if he does say so himself, but you lift off for a deep breath that ends in a moan as he sucks your clit between his lips.

“Just like that,” you whimper. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

Dieter does it again but adds his tongue into the mix, sending you over the edge. Your thighs tighten around his head and a glorious shout of his name echoes through the room. You lift your leg over his head and move to straddle his hips, positioning yourself over his cock and slowly sinking down his length with your mouth dropped open in a gasp.

You’re a mess above him, with lipstick smears across your skin and your lips swollen from being wrapped around his cock moments before. He’s mesmerized by the sight of you and drunk on the taste of you, but nothing is better than the tight heat of you enveloping him, welcoming him into your body. When you start to roll your hips, he thinks you might be onto something with that cosmic energy because he’s fairly certain he’s looking up into the face of god.

You lean forward, kissing him with a desperation that he eagerly matches, tongue dancing with yours and teeth nipping at your lip. He flexes his hips beneath you, pounding into you with harsh thrusts that have you gasping against his mouth.

“Feel so good,” you tell him, the praise murmured into his ear. You smooth a hand through his sweaty hair, tugging lightly on the strands. “Always fill me so perfectly.”

“Fuck,” he says, jaw clenched tight as his orgasm draws near. “Want me to fill you up, baby?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you moan, your hips meeting his harsh thrusts. He can’t hold back anymore and he groans with the force of his release, flooding your cunt as you pulse around him with your second orgasm.

You collapse on top of him, both of you sticky with cooling sweat and trying to catch your breaths. He’s still so lost in his post-orgasm haze that he barely notices when you free his hands from the leather cuffs around his wrists but when he does, he’s quick to wrap his arms around you and bury his head against your neck.

Maybe they were right.

Dating a witch isn’t so bad, after all.

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this fic, please consider commenting or reblogging, I'd love to hear from you 💕. You can find more of my writing below:

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eff4freddie · 5 months ago

Text

2 Sweet 4 Me | Part One

Dieter Bravo x AFAB Reader Words: 3k Minors DNI

Part Two | Part Three | Epilogue

Dieter knows he fucked up, knows he lost you, knows it hurt and that he deserved it. But if its the way things had to be, the way they were always going to be, predestined as he is, apparently born under a vengeful and unforgiving star, then why does it still fucking sting so much?

This is a love story.

Warnings: Drug use, oral sex, M/M, M/F, tiny hint of a miscarriage. Cover image doesn't represent reader. Dieter being angsty and defeated, Dieter beating himself up, Dieter self-effacing and self-sabotaging. Just Dieter.

Dieter had really tried to be good. The problem wasn’t that he got bored easily, or that sometimes it felt like his bones were kind of itchy in an unsettling way. It wasn’t that everyone he knew wanted something from him, wasn’t that they usually got it. It wasn’t that he missed the chemical burn up his nostrils, the glug of the pills caught on the back of his throat. It was all of the above, and a bunch of other stuff his fifth therapist hadn’t yet figured out how to excavate.

He slumped his head back on the couch, his trailer too cramped for someone who won an Oscar, but absolutely the right size for someone successfully snorting it all away. He was in the back row, a long line of trailers all the way down to the highway, such that he had to put on his music to drown out the cars going past, and it was fucking impossible to concentrate on his craft when all he could hear was honking and the drone of the 9-5, of the people coming and going completely unaware that life was supposed to be about creativity and fun and getting your cock sucked by the best boy between scenes.

He had to be careful not to be too loud. Had to hold his cigarette tight between his fingers in case he dropped ash on the head bobbing up and down in his lap. He sighed.

‘I’m not sure this is working for me,’ he said, after a while, his mouth strangely dry, his tongue sticking to the roof his mouth. If you’d been here, you would have told him to drink some water. He tried to swallow down his feelings dry.

The best boy hummed, switching from forcing Dieter’s length down his throat to pumping with his fist while he tongued at Dieter’s balls. That was a slight improvement, Dieter considered. But not enough.

Gently, he took the best boy by the collar, heard the slick of his skin as it eased from the younger man’s mouth. ‘Thanks, though,’ he said, half-hearted.

‘What about if I…?’ the best boy asked, taking two of his fingers and swooshing them upwards into the air.

‘No, no,’ Dieter waved him away. ‘I just need to relax, I think.’

‘I have some edibles in my car, I could go and get them,’ the best boy offered, springing up on youthful knees and sitting, too close, to Dieter on the couch. ‘We could do them together,’ he went on.

Oh, fuck. Dieter could see the look in his eye, had seen it a thousand times. A look like he thought if he swallowed enough of Dieter’s come it’d land him a production assistant gig, a job on a daytime talk show, one of those ones that’s been going for 20 years.

‘Sorry, man,’ he said, standing and tucking himself back into his shorts. The best boy stood with him, hurt crossing his face before a professional veneer slotted over the top. For a moment Dieter stared at him, scared he was going to say something, and not sure what he would say that scared him the most; the offer of more drugs, of more sex, or just to tell him he was due back on set. ‘I gotta pee,’ Dieter said, eventually, scurrying away to the bathroom in the hope that by the time he emerged the younger man would be gone.

He avoided his reflection in the mirror, knew that if he looked, he wouldn’t recognise himself anyway. He could feel the stage makeup settling into his pores, could feel the mascara clumping in the corners of his eyes. Sometimes, when he was drunk enough but not high, when he was jet lagged but not too fuzzy, when he was feeling vulnerable but not unsafe, sometimes then he would look. Study the deepening lines across his forehead, the crow’s feet crinkling his skin all the way to his temples. He’d pull his hairline back, check for any movement, stare into the dark of his eyes and see if the rot was leaking out. He’d wonder why you chose him, husk of a thing that he is, how you stayed for so fucking long.

All of it was just sleight of hand. He’d go out there onto the soundstage, hit his mark and say the words someone else had written, pretend he was somewhere, someone, better. He’d got so good at pretending, at covering up, and making himself disappear that he’d forgotten now how to do the magic trick. It just happened. He won awards for it, the slippage.

On the way back to his rented apartment, because he can’t even commit to a real estate agent let alone to a partner, his driver wound down the window to try and clear the smoke drifting over from where Dieter sat in the back.

‘Sorry, Rudy,’ Dieter muttered, using the butt of one cigarette to light the end of the next. It occurred to him that all he ever did now was apologise. Fuck up. Apologise. Repeat.

That’s what you’d said to him, too, when you’d stood in his kitchen next to your overnight bag filled to the brim and reminded him that ‘sorry is not change’. You were right and you were smart and you were too fucking good for him, had always been. He hadn’t blamed you for leaving. Would have left himself too, if he could.

He wondered what you’re doing, even though it hurt. It’s nearly 11 PM on a Thursday night, so he knows you’re probably taking off your makeup, getting into your sweats to go to bed. He wondered if you’re alone, if that guy from your office, fucking Jonathan, was there with you. For a second, he let himself imagine you’re waiting for him at home, the bedside light still on and a book lying discarded next to you on the blankets as you snooze. He approaches, quiet over the carpet, pulls his shirt off, pushes his pants down over his hips. You smile, but don’t so much wake, as he slides in behind you, feels the warmth of your soft skin on his. ‘Hey baby,’ you say, quiet and half-asleep, and he buries his face in your hair. In the morning he’ll have his filthy way with you but right now he just wants you close, in his arms and under his blankets, inside his four walls. Wants you tucked up safe against him, wants to feel your love.

He looked down at his hands, could still feel the warmth of your skin on them, as if for a moment he wasn’t imagining but conjuring. He believed for a moment that it was possible. Wondered if the yellow stains on his fingertips were from the nicotine or just the orange glow of the streetlights.

His house was quiet when he gets in, because of course it was. He wondered if he should call his weed guy, call his E guy. If he just wanted a whiskey, maybe a little Valium first, maybe just a lobotomy. The silence was making him antsy again, sling-shotting from maudlin to jittery as the silence crept into his bones. He could paint but he couldn’t be fucked. He has a 6 AM call time in the morning. Rudy will be knocking on his door at 5.

He realised he’s too amped up to sleep, but that he needed to if he was going to be in any sort of functional state tomorrow. He really didn’t want to fuck up this job, this little indie shooting on the streets of LA on actual film like it’s the fucking 90s. This was maybe his step back into legitimacy, maybe a chance to show he’s still worth a shot. You were so proud of him when he got it, all those months ago, when even his agent seemed a little misty-eyed at the offer. This was important.

Just Ambien, then.

In his bed, Dieter waited for sleep to take him. He still had the picture of you and him on his nightstand, the one where you’re looking up at him as he holds you by the middle, your smile bright and shining as he stares, warmly, into your eyes. You’d been at some party, and even though he couldn’t remember where exactly you both were, Dieter remembered that moment, the snap taken by a friend who had no idea of its significance. It was the moment he knew he loved you, and felt it without fear. It hurt now, hurt a little then, and he left it there for every time he turns his lamp off. Lets it remind him that there was a golden period of some months where you existed in his life and he was yet to fuck it up.

Sometime around 2 AM he’s woken by his phone, his body moving before his brain registered what was going on. He doesn’t remember setting an alarm, barely remembered falling asleep. He tried to shift some of the fog to the side so he could think.

‘-lo?’ he muttered, his throat dry.

‘Dee?’ you asked, and he could hear in your voice that you were flustered, worried. He sat bolt upright in the bed, pushed over the picture of you as he reached for the lamp.

‘Baby?’ he asked, as he felt his pulse race and the room swim in front of his eyes.

‘Are you OK?’ you asked, and he could hear how tight your voice was.

‘Mm’sleepin’ he said, surprised by how hard it was to get his mouth to work properly. ‘You OK?’

‘You texted me,’ you said, and he felt his stomach drop. Oh, fuck. Oh fuckedy fuck fuck.

‘I did?’ he asked, as he searched his brain for some scrap of memory. All he could now remember was why he never fucking takes Ambien anymore.

‘Yeah, you said you needed me.’

He slammed his hand to his forehead, hoped for a second that he was actually just straight up hallucinating.

You were still talking, and he tried hard to focus on what you were telling him. ‘You said you’d made a mistake, that I was…’ you paused, and he realised you’d pulled the phone away from your face to read his own messages back to him. ‘Too sweet for you, that you broke us, that you are not so much a bull in a China shop as Mengele hanging out in an orphanage.’ He cringed, no matter how poetic it was. And accurate.

‘Then I think you tried to send me a picture-’

‘Oh God, please tell me not of my-’

‘It’s too dark to see, I think its your ceiling. And you’re saying something about falling stars, and comets.’

Despite his mortification, he could hear a tiny bit of mirth creeping into your voice, and he felt it tinkle warm and delicate at the base of his spine. If he waited long enough, sent you enough fucked up texts, maybe he’d even get to hear your laugh.

‘Fuck, I’m so sorry,’ he started, but stopped when you shushed him.

‘Just tell me what you’ve taken so I know if I should call 911.’

‘Just Ambien, I promise, baby,’ he said, and he hated the little surge of something proud and excited that you cared enough to maybe call help for him. Hated that he had been the one to exploit that in you, for the entirety of your relationship, wondered if he’d started to dangle himself off the cliff just to see if you’d still come and save him. Fuck, there was so much to be sorry for. He’d lost track a long time ago.

‘Dee,’ you said, and then you trailed off, and he could hear that you were about to kindly, gently, admonish him.

‘Didn’t even know I was doing it,’ he explained, and he listened to your sad little sigh. He shut his eyes against it, pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Not that I didn’t want to…I mean, not that I wouldn’t have if I…not just because of the meds, I guess, I mean.’

In the silence, Dieter checked his phone to see the damage for himself. There were a couple of messages that had failed to send, gibberish mostly, and he deleted them before his phone attempted to deliver on his garbled words. There was, indeed, a picture of his ceiling. He wondered if his medicated mind had wanted to show you what it would look like if you were with him.

He read, quickly.

Down in mmy sheeps with me.

Brokei t. Us.

2 sweet 4 me

not so much a bull in a China shop as Mengele hanging out in an orphanage

He swallowed, assumed he must have got Siri to dictate that last one.

‘What did you mean?’ you asked him, and he heard the sheets rustle round you as you settled yourself back down in bed. He felt his heartrate pick up, had assumed you would hang up on him having been satisfied he was still alive. It had been so long since you’d talked properly. Since after you left, but also a little bit since before.

‘Well, he did a lot of experiments on kids, twins mostly,’ Dieter began, and you stopped him.

‘No, Jesus, no. Fuck, Dee.’ You collected yourself. ‘That I’m too sweet for you. You really think that?’

He thought about you staying up all hours of the night to chat to him on Facetime when he was on location, sleepless and anxious over some tiny bit part, in another country. Thought about you pulling the router out of the wall and putting his phone in the safe when the first reviews for Cliff Beasts 7 were looking shaky. When you cried, quiet in the bathroom when you thought he couldn’t hear, over the comments left on his Instagram the first time you were papped together.

‘My life,’ he started, rolling out a sentence both his manager and agent had said to him in the aftermath of the breakup, ‘is not a good fit for civilians.’

He heard you take in a sharp breath.

‘That’s not it though, is it?’ you asked him, and his eyes were getting heavy, the Ambien still in his bloodstream, the day, week, month, weighing heavy on his shoulders. ‘You put me on a pedestal, Dee. I was never too anything for you. I just don’t think you could bare it when I was real.’

He thought about that time he’d screamed at you, upended your suitcase onto the floor, while you were packing for a work trip, the hypocrisy of it not lost on him even then. That time when he’d dragged you out to an industry party, his nerves jangling, not able to remember the last time he’d done it sober, only to lose you in the crowd within fifteen minutes of arriving, everyone wanting to talk to him, to rub up on him, his hand slipping from yours in the throng of it, his mind tuning in to the attention of strangers, ignoring or rejecting or minimising that he had all the love he could want in you.

That time when you’d been sick, bleeding on the floor of the bathroom, calling him to come take you to the hospital, and he’d sent his assistant because he was about to shoot a big scene.

He shut his eyes, the shame of it licking at his cheeks. You didn’t come home after that. You returned to his place, stayed in his bed for a few weeks, ate the food in his fridge and haunted his living room, but you didn’t ever actually come home.

‘I miss you,’ he said, because it was all he could say, and because it was true.

‘Dee, don’t,’ you whispered, and he closed his eyes to revel in the sound of it, to ignore what you were saying to him and to just imagine for a second you were saying it with your body pressed to his.

‘Nothing feels real without you,’ he said, and he meant it, meant how he spent all day in clothes that weren’t his, saying words that he didn’t mean, to people he barely knew. That each morning they had to spackle over the hate and the want and the wash out, try to build him back up into a human being. He was so fucking cold without you, in the middle of an LA heatwave.

‘I wonder if you’ll remember this in the morning,’ you said, and it stung him. He felt the hot prickle of tears at the back of his eyes, felt the strain in his jaw as his mouth turned down.

‘I want to remember it all,’ he said, and he heard you huff out a quiet little laugh, not at all what he had been hoping for. ‘Do you miss me?’ he asked, dropping his hand to his chest to try and still his racing, terrified heart.

‘Go to sleep, Dee,’ you said, before the line went dead. He pulled his phone back to check that you were gone.

It was 2:30 in the morning. Rudy would be there within hours.

Taglist (want to be on it? Drop me a message): @dieterbravobrainrotclub

@harriedandharassed

#dieter bravo fanfic #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal characters fanfiction

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sp00kymulderr · 7 months ago

Text

just a touch

Dieter Bravo (x afab!reader)

980 words

warnings: m masturbation, afab!reader mentioned, writer Dieter being horny af, unedited.

Does anyone else ever spend all their day thinking about...

Dieter Bravo jerking off.

About how he draws it out for hours because he loves to be teased, even if he's teasing himself. He'll watch something filthy (he's got a great selection of porn, some homemade) or look at those nudes you sent him. But he refuses to touch himself the whole time, as he gets harder and more desperate for it.

He likes the luxury of getting off in bed, on his expensive soft sheets, or in the shower with the warm water running all over his body. He gets really sensitive the longer he holds off, so he'll give it as long as he possibly can. If he really wants to drive himself crazy, he'll force himself to go do something else after getting all turned on from whatever he chose to watch - something super mundane like read his many emails, or tidy up whatever mess was left out last night.

Usually though, he'll go to the big full length mirror in his bedroom, slowly take his clothes off, appreciate his own body. He spent a long time struggling with his body image, but nowadays he loves what he sees. His broad chest, the softness of his tummy, and then the bulge in his pants before he slowly peels them off. He's never been anything but proud of his dick. As far as cocks go he's got a pretty one, everyone always says it. He's still not touching it, not now as he appreciates the view of it in the mirror. His hands might come close, as his fingers softly feel their way around his own body, mapping paths you've taken as you've explored him yourself. He'll play with his nipples, pinch at the sensitive parts of his torso and grasp his stomach, appreciate the soft feel of it. He wishes you were there right now, but he'll make do with what he's got. Himself.

Finally...oh finally he makes his way on to his bed, sat with his back against the headboard with his legs spread wide. The mirror is angled just right, so he has a good view of himself from there. He's a little flushed, cheeks reddened. He's leaking precum, made himself so fucking desperate for his own hand. He looks really good, and he knows it.

He'll use whatever is closest, spit or lube or lotion. He isn't picky. Sometimes he'll use a toy too, depending on what he wants to feel and how quick he wants to get off. He loves playing with things that vibrate but they tend to make him come quicker than he likes so he doesn't use them too often - better when you're trying to overstimulate him to tears. Usually he'll use a butt plug when he's on his own, he likes his ass nice and full as often as it can be.

Now he takes himself in his hand, and the moan he makes at that first touch is sinful. He starts off painfully slow, teeth gritted in concentration as he tries to zone in on every single thing he's feeling as his fists glides up and down his cock. He'll think of you now the most, of the drag of your cunt up his dick. Or the warmth of your mouth on him. He'll bring up every memory he has of you and him together, the way you look when he's in you. The way you cry out as he thrusts into you for the first time. God, he can't take it this slow anymore.

As he quickens his pace, the noises he makes would make anyone blush. Dieter is never quiet like this. He loves to be heard, even if it's only him who can hear it right now. More, and more, and more. His free hand is playing with his balls, gentle tugs and squeeze that makes him tense dangerously and groan in pleasure.

Will he slow down now, calm himself down before he starts up again? Well, he'll try but at this point he's possessed by the need to come. He tries to be good, he really does. The way you like it, every last drop teased out of him but holding off for as long as he possibly can You tell him to be good, but you're not here right now and he can't quite bring himself to be that good.

He'll confess later, you can punish him if you want.

He's gasping out, a needy thing, beautiful noises of absolute heady pleasure. Eyes zoning back in just enough to watch as he brings himself to the edge. His favourite part to watch, as his movements falter and his balls tighten and with a loud cry he's spilling ropes of his cum onto his lower belly, onto his fingers, wherever it goes. Messy, he loves it that way. He pulls out every last drop he can, until its too much.

His head falls back against the headboard, eyes squeezing shut as he heaves out heavy breaths while his body trembles slightly from the climax. After a moment or two, he'll bring his hand up to his mouth and lick it clean. Dip his fingers into the mess he made and taste himself. It makes him groan, he tastes so fucking good. You always tell him the same, and he knows you're not lying.

In the time it takes him to regain his thoughts, he's laid himself down on the bed properly, sprawled out and a little dozy. He gets sleepy after he's come, but not enough to actually fall asleep. He just likes to bask in the feeling for a little while while he recovers. He bury his face in the pillow that still smells of you, and close his eyes and just enjoy the moment.

And if he really needs it today...he'll make it all happen again in a couple hours.

#Dieter Bravo x reader #Dieter Bravo smut #dieter bravo x afab!reader #pedrostories #pedro pascal character fanfic #made myself all fucking h*rny in the middle of a management meeting whoops

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chronically-ghosted · 11 months ago

Text

stay gold, baby boy

rating: 18+ (expliiiiicit)

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

word count: almost 6K

summary: six months into your friends-with-benefits situation, you institute a new game. A gold star on the board every time Dieter is a good boy. Today, he gets bingo . . . for wearing real pants.

warnings: friends with benefits (with more feelings), oral (m receiving), dom/sub dynamics (guess who subs today!), talks of edging, hair pulling, creampie, piv sex, praise kink, my mother raised me to have better taste in men but fuck it

a/n: remember when i posted this picture? And then this one? Remember how you could hear me yelling from space? Well, @sp00kymulderr has added fuel to the fire – Dieter and stickers. I can’t explain myself except that I was horny and I wanted to take his pants off with my teeth. So I did.

✨gif credit goes to the ever incredible, talented, and enabler of my dieter fantasies @perotovar! she saw me floundering with the header and immediately was like 'hold please i can make his baby cow eyes even better'✨

🤍Masterlist

With your foot on the low table, your ass firmly planted on the middle poofy cushion of the dumpster bin couch at the back of the trailer, thumbnail nibbled between your teeth, you have to admit it’s starting to get a little embarrassing. It’s honestly such a bad look.

Not that he would ever shame you for it. In fact, he’d probably like it.

And it’s not like you waited for him here all day. You had things to do as one of the co-screenwriters on this film. You had things to do and people to see and stuff to organize – all of which had nothing to do with Dieter fucking Bravo.

Okay, so a lot of it actually had to do with him. Lots of scene rewrites, lots of notes from the studio, lots of instances where the two of you had to put your heads together and come up with a solution that made the studio happy and didn’t make you want to claw your eyes out artistically speaking.

Which had led to this.

And the past six months of whatever this is. Working together led to seeing each other (outside of work), to eating with each other, to fucking each other – with the line firmly drawn there.

Whatever you may say about Dieter, the man could compartmentalize in a way that would make Marie Kondo weep with joy. By the way he treated you on set, no one in their right mind would ever have guessed he knew what you looked like naked. Or that he knew your left nostril twitched just before you came.

The same could be said for you too. Out of boredom one morning in the grocery store, you bought a trashy magazine with his face emblazoned across the top – Dieter Bravo and His Lonely Hearts Club. You weren’t one for the gossip rags, but flipping through it, not a single one of his “club members” mentioned his raging praise kink. You bought the damn thing on the spot, giving them all a consolation prize of some sort. Sorry, ladies, guess I win. Ha. Ha.

But, at the edge of the cushion, eyes occasionally flicking between the door and the failing darkness outside, you didn’t feel much like you’d won anything.

In fact, you’d lost. Big time. When all of this had been your stupid idea in the first place.

It had been your idea (and your initiative) to buy a packet of gold star stickers. Like the kind teachers use with their first graders. Actually, exactly like the ones teachers use for their first graders. You couldn’t form words when the woman at the education supply store ringing you up asked, “oh, what grade do you teach?”. You just tossed a twenty at her and booked it, your face painfully hot for a fairly innocuous purchase.

But all of that was his fault for dropping a praise kink and a teacher kink on you all at once the night after you jokingly spanked him with a ruler in front of the director, in-front of his co-star, because he wouldn’t agree to a line change, and he had to excuse himself from the room.

A month later and he forgoes touching himself for a gold star. He agrees to your line changes without argument for a gold star. He picks you up in the morning and drives you home at night for a gold star (you could drive yourself, but there’s always that last minute thing you need to talk to him about so you do it just because it’s easier, really).

He lets you come, over and over again, and keeps nothing for himself – all for a gold star.

Someone is bound to figure it out. They have to. Six months in and you’re getting sloppy. Obvious. What the fuck would you be doing in his trailer at seven o’clock at night after a full day of shooting unless you’re fucking him?

But you, worryingly, can’t find it in you to care.

You had lost your mind, that’s what you lost. Because tonight is the night Dieter gets his final gold star. It’s his reward but you’re about to vibrate out of your skin with want.

(It didn’t matter that you hadn’t seen each other in two weeks and by the third day, an ache had settled in behind your breastbone, one that clutched your phone in your hand, and forced your eyes to the screen every minute, checking for a new text message.

He called on day five, by the way.)

Your neck snaps up when you hear voices outside of the trailer. Laughter, his.

You suddenly feel the need to flatline against the floor in case anyone might see you.

Fuck, and how are you supposed to explain yourself if the someone he is with follows him into the trailer? Too many frightfully bad scenarios and you’re rooted to the floor, unable to make a single decision.

The metal latch clinks and his trailer door swings wide open.

“Yeah, man, I’ll catch you tomorrow.”

You can hear a deep, “see ya” from the other side (maybe Daryl from craft services?) and the scrap-metal trailer squeaks, as the lock clicks shut.

Dieter scratches his cheek, surveying the trailer as if some part of him knows something is different, but his conscious mind can’t figure it out.

Until he turns. And nearly leaps out of his skin.

“Fuckin’ – what are you doing in here? Wait – I thought you left town to scope out the new location in San Diego.”

You want to answer him. You know how – open your mouth and tell him the trip’s been delayed for a few days, nothing serious, timeline bullshit – but you can’t.

It’s officially embarrassing.

It’s embarrassing how turned on by Dieter Bravo you are.

Hair in all kinds of directions, skinny cloth bracelet loose around his wrist, he had pushed up the sleeves of his henley shirt, exposing the thickly drawn triangle over his forearm and the clear one near his wrist. His hand with the rings hangs by his side and something inside of you silently whines.

But what really sets you off, what really makes this embarrassing and terrible because there’s no bluffing here, no hiding your cards and folding – nothing you can do to keep spit from flooding your mouth the longer you look –

He’s wearing pants.

Black with loose belt loops. Zipper and all. A silver button sitting between his hips. Fuck. Just like you told him to. Fuck fuckfuck.

You’re briefly aware when he says your name and you have to make a physical effort to tear your eyes away from that glinting silver eye winking up at you.

Dieter’s frowning, knowing silence isn’t really your thing.

“Are you okay? Why are you –,”

As though it had called his name, his gaze drifts from your face to the table between you and him. Where his scorecard rests with four stars in the Good column, and shockingly, none in the Bad.

His mouth parts, eyes going dark, as the realization hits him like a mack truck.

“Delays,” you say suddenly, preemptively, knowing that normal people usually have some sort of preamble before tearing each other’s clothes off. You stand up a bit straighter, tilt your jaw away from him, gaze leveling him from the end of your nose. You have got to get this thing under control. “Frank ran into some scheduling issues with the boat for the lake scene so, until further notice, the trip to San Diego has been delayed.”

He blinks slowly as if he’d been struck over the back of the heat, mouth parted. He has such fucking gorgeous, fucking perfect lips –

“So you’re here?” he asks, his voice low, disbelieving.

You scoop up the scorecard and step over the table, your shoes long since gone. It’s like his vision narrows the closer you come; he is transfixed, gaze on you as if molded at the seams, as you step up to him. You tap him on the chest once with the corner of the scorecard, excitement and nerves and that ache making you tremble despite your confident appearance.

“So I’m here.”

“On the last day of the week.” Words thick, as if all the moisture had been sucked out of his mouth.

“On the last day of the week.”

“When I,” he swallows thickly, “when I should get my reward.”

God, this kind of power trip should not be making you this wet.

You lift your gaze from his chest, taking in his beautifully dumb-struck face.

“You will.” You nod. “And do you know why?”

His breath quickens, lip between his teeth, when you scratch off the final star from the package and stick it to the Good column.

“Because I was a good boy?”

You toss the scorecard behind you, it clatters onto the table, and you cup the back of his hot neck.

“Because you were a very good boy.”

He stumbles back, knees unsteady, when you kiss him. You see his eyes a split second before you close yours and hot electricity swoops down to the pit of your stomach. It would be mortifying if you just fucked him right here and now – he does deserve something extra special – but fuck – you want his whole hand inside of you.

His warm palm slides across your jaw, pulling you into him, and Dieter breathes, deep and long, inhaling as much as he can. You don’t think he realizes that he’s picked you up off the ground with his arm around your back until he opens his eyes, vision hazy and off-center.

“Go lock the door, baby.”

He nods and puts you back down. You slip off your jacket as he bolts the trailer door shut.

Dieter’s mouth drops open when he turns around and sees you on your knees.

Shit, you should have stolen some knee pads from the costume department.

“Really?”

You smile at him because he asks like a kid that just got offered a puppy for Christmas. You reach towards him and he takes your hand, unsteady on weak knees

“For as long and as much as you want.”

You palm him and Dieter groans, mouth-closed at the sensation, the hard ridge of the metal zipper not one he is entirely familiar with. At least, not like this. Beneath the warm press of your palm, you feel him thicken, harden, and you press more, digging your fingers into his thighs. The muscles in his legs tense, his mouth falls open, as his hips cant forward, desperate for the new weight of the zipper.

“And I won’t make you wait, Dieter,” you say, eyes tripping up from where your hand sits, up to the flash of exposed tummy where his pants have ridden down and his shirt slid up, into his almost surprised gaze. “You’ve been very good, wearing this for me, but I want you to learn why it’s important to wear pants with buttons.”

“I-I t-t-thought,” he tries, voice abruptly cutting off when you nuzzle the constrained bulge in his pants. He tries again, eyes slamming shut as if to stifle the sensation of your warm breath so near to where he needs you the most. “I thought i-it was so I d-din’t – didn’t look bad.”

Your face still pressed into his crotch, you briefly massage his calves, then the backs of his thighs. You cup the curve of his ass through the starchy back pockets, which is remarkably prominent now that he’s in something else than baggy sweatpants.

You shake your head, nose dragging along his hot length, against the space between his hip bone and his cock, smiling.

“Baby, you know I like how you look. I always want you to be comfortable.” You look up and meet his eyes. The remaining brown not yet wholly consumed by a blurry, heated darkness softens. Somewhere beneath the hazy, disarming feelings of lust currently filling his head like a bike tire, he’s still your Dieter. Or – well, wait – at least the Dieter you know. The Dieter you have impossibly fun times with. The Dieter who makes you laugh like no one else. The Dieter that can make you fall apart until you’re a gooey, dripping mess and he still manages to stitch you back together. The Dieter that keeps you up at night thinking he might possibly want something more. “But this is so much more fun.”

Grounding your chest against his thighs, holding yourself against him as leverage, you sink your teeth into the corner of the fabric fastening his pants together. Eyes up at him again, you tug and his cock is pushed up against your tits from the force of the pull. He rocks forward, an airy gasp escaping his mouth, and the button gives, the lip of the fabric sliding back as the silver disk slips through the hole. Now your touch is unimpeded by rough fabric when you lean forward and kiss him just below the waistband of his black boxers.

It takes you a second to realize that Dieter Bravo is wearing underwear at all and you smirk up at him.

Something about your gaze makes the tips of his ears go red, as if he had been caught being very naughty. His big hand cups from your jaw to your ear, as if trying to placate you, beg you not to be mad this close to his cock.

“You said I had to dress u-up,” he says, eyes wide and round. God, he’s trying to be so good. One week of the rating system and Dieter Bravo is a trembling mess. Despite your wildly beating heart, you smirk, your thighs shaking briefly at the sudden rush of tenderness you feel for the man in front of you. You hide your own blush by mouthing that open spot just below his tummy and above his cock, wetting the black material with your tongue. Before he can whine about it, you pull back just barely, enough to curl your fingers around both his black underwear and the pants he wore for you. Just as you begin to pull down, you nip the zipper between your teeth and slowly, slowly, rubbing your nose against him, tug the metal teeth apart. His pants open and Dieter groans loudly. He’s already so sensitive.

For a mouthy, ego-driven bastard, he really did have a magnificent cock. Flushed at the base, thickest you’d ever had inside you, and he’s leaking silvery threads from the head. The vein thickly pulsating on the side makes you wonder how he hasn’t passed out from all the blood rushing to his cock.

You lick that vein, that beating pulse, and his knees buckle. His massive hand grips your shoulder and Dieter shakes his head, his mouth wrenching open.

“Please, please — mhmm — don’t tease. I-I can’t – you haven’t – please.”

As if you would be cruel to him. You feel rather dizzy, elated on the idea that you wield this much power over him. That he trusts you with all of him. There it comes again, that arching ache in your chest.

“I’m just trying to get myself ready for you,” you confess quietly. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”

Dieter swallows something large in his throat, panic receding from his eyes. His smile is small and his touch on your cheek is light.

“I know.”

And you weren’t lying. You’d never forget the sound of your jaw popping and cracking the morning after you sucked him off three times before you let him come. Dieter is shockingly big, annoyingly only when he uses it against you or makes you tell him over and over just how big he is before giving it to you. For now, you just want to remind him how very appreciative you are that he gives it to you at all.

Eyes decidedly looking away from the warmth on his face, you squeeze the backs of his thighs as you relax your jaw as much as you can. Above you hear him huff with his mouth shut as you start to take him in, your tongue wetting that soft skin on the underside of his cock. One move forward and you’ve wet him halfway, tongue massaging that vein. Another drop of your head and you’ve taken him completely.

“Fuck,” Dieter murmurs, the hand on your shoulder tightening. Your heart pounds in your chest all the harder when he takes his other hand and knots your hair with his fingers. By the twitching of his thighs beneath your palms, you know it’s taking every ounce of his restraint to not buck his hips forward. “That’s it that’s my girl you take me so fucking good you feel so fucking good.”

The thing about your mouth that is markedly different from your pussy: you can’t release your gag reflex to take more of him. But fuck, you want him to fuck the back of your throat – you just might drown before it happens.

He smells surprisingly clean as your nose inches closer and closer to his skin. With each pull, you slide your tongue down the other side, until it pokes through and licks where you haven’t reached with your mouth yet, inches from his pelvis. He shudders when you use the tip of your tongue.

“Oh my god, your mouth, baby, your mouth.” The words dribble out of his slack mouth, fingers flexing in your hair as if he can mimic pushing your head down further. You pull all the way off him, tongue catching the rim of his cock and he drops his head back against his shoulders and moans. The sound of it makes your pussy throb and you breathe out your nose to stifle your own noises. This is about him. He did good. He was a good boy the whole week.

You replace your mouth with your hand. Sufficiently wet from the way you slobbered all over his cock, you use a fist around his flushed head to smear pre-cum all the way down to the base of him. You brush his balls with your knuckles, just as you fit the tip between your lips, sucking – and Dieter bucks, hard.

“Ngh – shit! S-sorry!” His nails dig into his thighs, eyes squeezing shut as silvery threads spurt out from his cock.

Maybe you’d gone too far with the whole sticker thing and he really thought this was another test. His cheeks are burnt pink, his chest heaving and it’s one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen.

“Dieter,” you cry softly, gently, comfortingly. He still doesn’t open his eyes, not even when you resume stroking him. You lick the soft skin of his balls and his gasp punches the air out of his lungs, his eyes splitting open. He looks down at you, thighs trembling and you squeeze him gently. Not to edge him or punish him, but to make this last a bit longer for him. “Dieter, take your shirt off and sit down.”

He can’t move fast enough. He yanks the henley over his shoulders, the collar scraping his hair up in wild directions. He goes to sit but his thighs are shaking too much and he just sort of tumbles onto his ass. Smiling, you take your own shirt off, hoping to save this particular bra reveal for another time, but fuck, this time is as good as any. Despite his panting and squirming, his gaze rolls from your face to your tits. Emerald green with black lace, this is far too nice for a work bra and it properly communicates to him that you were going to fuck him whether or not he was going to get that final gold star. The realization is visible as it crosses his mind, bleeding hungry black in his eyes.

You take off his pants all the way, before sliding your own jeans down and to the floor. His roving gaze catches the matching panties and the noise in his throat is deep, like a smothered grunt.

“Now, I’m going to suck you off no matter what,” you say as you crawl in between his legs, before leaning back and sitting on your heels. You smooth your hands down his thighs, near his red, stark cock, but not touching. Dieter’s breathing hitches in anticipation, not sure where to put his hands or his gaze. “But I want you to answer one question for me first.”

He nods rapidly, spreading his knees further for you as if to remind you there’s other places he could be fucked.

“Why did you think I was going to punish you today?”

You’ve asked this question paraphrased a dozen times, usually when you both know the answer: he came without asking, or he came by himself, or any of the dozen reasons Dieter liked to push your buttons, only for you to break him as far as he can go. But today, there’s no sultry edge, no double meaning. Your question is sincere and it takes him a moment to understand. He swallows as his eyebrows tug down on his forehead, something vulnerable flashing in his eyes before a look of uncertainty crosses his face.

“We’ve never had sex just to have sex.” He says it like a question. He settles into the floor one hand going behind his head, the linear tattoo on his forearm dark like a third eye. “Not that I’m complaining but it’s always a competition, or because we’re bored, or you wanna work out some personal shit because of the costume department. I know this is my reward, but I figured there had to be some kinda catch to it.”

You frown deeper than him. “There’s no way we haven’t had normal sex.”

Something like a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Define normal sex.”

Now it’s your turn to go warm across the cheeks. “I mean, like . . . outside of . . . our roles. Where there aren’t roles at all. It’s just . . .”

You break off for the third time, the look in his eyes forcing you to snap your mouth shut before you say something incriminating like, just us.

Dieter shakes his head. “No, we haven’t.”

“You’re telling me in six months, that’s never happened once?” You adjust on your heels and cross your arms. “It’s not like you can remember every time we’ve had sex.”

“I do.” This, coming from him, is not a question. It’s an irrefutable statement that you don’t seem able to refute with a no you don’t. There is no room for arguing.

Driving right on through the heat of your cheeks, that ache returning, you shake your head. “Then doesn’t that get old? Having to play games every single time?”

Dieter pouts as he thinks, eyes on the roof of the trailer. “Sometimes, but I don’t mind. Not enough to want to stop fucking you.”

“So, after a week of nothing, you were totally willing to let me edge you within an inch of your life? Let me treat you badly?”

Dieter smirks and it suddenly feels like you’re the one under him. “Sure, but you like me too much to keep it going for too long. And you like watching me come.”

Your teeth grind together at this very bold accusation, your entire face blazing. Weren’t you supposed to be domming him today??

His feet slide out beside you and Dieter is the very picture of arrogance, his arm still tucked behind his head. He drums his fingers on his stomach.

“If it makes you feel any better,” he says, the smirk around his mouth soft, “I like you too.”

It doesn’t. Not really. Not when his words spear through you hot and hard, landing in your chest like a landmine. Fuck.

Fuck.

“Oh, so this is all for me, then?” You ignore the fact that you’ve slipped back into your role in active defiance of talking about this anymore, and crawl forward until your forearms frame his head. That teasing contentment fades from his face as he watches you, eyes following a line that only he can see from your nose, lips, chin, throat and tits. Your hair slips off your shoulder, darkening the light on his face when you straddle his waist. “But what about you? Don’t you want to come?”

He nods, slower than before, but only to keep from breaking eye contact with you. Light as feathers, Dieter trails his fingers up the backs of your thighs, over the curve of your ass, to settle into your hips. His mouth parts in anticipation, pink tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip.

“I do,” he says, rolling his neck as if he can see more of you this way. “I really fuckin’ do.”

“What a coincidence.” You shift down, dragging the wet patch on the emerald green underwear beneath your drooling cunt, shift until it slides across his half-hard cock and Dieter’s hands dig into your hips, a groan breaking off in the back of his throat. His eyes slip half-closed, a thick, smoky black enveloping that beautiful brown. “So do I.”

Grinding down over so slightly, you roll your hips once more – Dieter tenses, his hands easing to the tops of your thighs – before sitting back on his knees.

“Now relax, baby, you’ve earned it.”

You drop forward over his hips, open your mouth, and slurp him up between your lips.

The noise that comes out of his chest is broken, knocked loose, split down the middle. You take him all in one, down until your nose is tickled by his coarse hairs, and you swallow. He is immediately, instantly, rock hard and dribbling. You swallow again and his hands dive into your hair, knotting the strands around his fingers, the way a rider draws up the reins of his horse. He goads you down with just gentle pressure, needy and demanding all at once, and you take him, and you take him, and you take him until the blunt head prods the back of your throat and you gag, throat constricting, and Dieter’s eyes roll back in his head.

“Shit, that’s too fucking good.”

You breathe out your nose, pulling up just enough to keep him off your reflex, but instead you hollow out your cheeks and suck, tongue pressing up against him and around that hammering vein.

And here, here comes the sound you’ve wanted from him all night –

Dieter whines, high and keening, his neck straining, your skull pinching from where he pulls. Between your thighs, the emerald green is completely ruined, buffed out dark in the wet.

The vein throbs again and you nearly drop onto your elbows, not caring if you choke or drown or sputter, you want him in your mouth, you want that salty, gooey taste of him that you find you can’t seem to lick up enough. You want him inside you –

With a grunt that morphs into a groan as it rises up his chest, he tugs hard enough on your hair that the pain splits your mouth open, head tugged back enough that he slips out of you, a thread of pre-cum from your puffy lips to the tip of his blunt head.

You lied. This wasn’t entirely for him.

You can feel your lips twist into a snarl. “Dieter, what are you –,”

He kisses you with such a force, that noise in his chest is transferred to yours, a collision that sparks a causal nexus and his own desperation bleeds with your own. The kiss is messy, dizzying, spit and pre-cum smearing across swollen lips and wet tongues. He twists his fingers deeper into your hair, as if he can consume you through the bowl of your skull.

Your name is something that tumbles, falls, drips from him, his mouth tilted a fraction of an inch away from yours. Eyes dark, full, a beast that howls for the moon in your eyes.

He’s going to fuck your brains out on the floor of this rickety-ass trailer.

Dieter tugs you forward, drags you onto your knees over him as he settles beneath you. Your fingers knock with his in a fight to reach your panties first, to shove them down your hips and thighs, get them to the floor.

Dieter’s flushed, pupils dark, big hands grappling against the weight of you as he pulls you onto him. You are so aroused, so sunken into the smoke of lust, you go as you are moved, his cock smearing apart your wet pussy. Dieter sits up, eyes locking onto where you’ve nearly become a single creature, and then he hesitates.

Sanity seems to ring his bell, for just a moment. Without waiting, he sucks two fingers into his mouth, coating them with his spit, and you can see what he’s about to do just before he moves. You shake your head, knees aching from carrying your weight against the flat trailer floor, and sit up off him, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

“Don’t need it,” you mutter before licking into his mouth. He drops his head back to let you sink your tongue between his lips. Both hands wrapped around his jaw, you thumb his earring and he grunts out the side of his mouth. “I want –,”

His big hands settle and it’s like he dropped a thousand pound weight between your ribs. You drop, right onto him, his cock forcibly shoving you apart in a single thrust. Dieter barks out a moan, his hands clutching your spine, teeth going for your shoulder to muffle anything else that threatens to escape him.

You swear your nerves are on fire.

He always takes his time with you, for your benefit, and his. He can be maddening and incessant and demanding, right up until this part, the part where he could actually hurt you. Right then, he waits. Lets you come to him. Let you take as much as you want and he holds you tight.

But this, this is you taking all you want and then some.

In the split second you allow for your bodies to recognize the give and the take, the swell and the invasion, you meet his gaze.

No roles. No games. No landmines.

Exposure.

Blistering and brittle.

Safety.

You curl your toes underneath you, grip his shoulders, and slide up on an inhale. On an exhale, you thrust down and you don’t know who cries out louder.

Dieter pulls you to him, arm banded around your back, the other to balance as he leans back to meet your downward strokes with his upward thrusts. His fingers pinch the clasp of your bra and the straps slide off your shoulders, your frantic bouncing knocking those emerald cups loose.

“Oh, yeah, oh fuck yeah.” He mouths at your collarbone, tonguing the sweat that blooms across your skin. Your short huffs have your chest trembling, a shudder disrupting your breath when he uses the blunt edge of his teeth against the soft curve of your breast. His nose against your skin, he turns his head and licks your nipple into his mouth. He sucks, licks, your rapid rise and fall catching your sensitive peak against the tops and bottoms of his teeth. He uses the barest hint of pressure and your back arches. He sucks your other nipple into his mouth, repeating that same pattern with his tongue, while his fingers flick your hardened bud.

You think you’re going to melt, fracture and ooze into this hot pool of pleasure that hums between your legs.

“Fuck, Dieter,” your own voice is unrecognizable, breathy and high, cut short every time his hips meet yours in a harsh slap, “I can’t –,”

He rubs up against something truly devastating inside of you and immediately your legs give out. You topple into him, arms around his neck, nose pressed up against his jaw. You feel his overheated skin, a balm, a solidifying force, against your cheek. The whirling inferno in your head soothes. A drop of sweat from his hairline trails down by your eye and you lick it.

“Make me come, Dieter,” you whisper for him, of him, beg in a way that only he can hear. You nuzzle his earring and he keens. “Please – I need it – n-n-need you.”

Open-mouthed, breath hot, flush down to his chest, he slithers the hand against your back between your warm bodies and finds your clit. Drags his thumb across it as his hips pound up into you – you can’t hear what he says in your ear, the edge you’re dangling over loud and pulsing – and then there’s a softness against your throat.

The white spark between your thighs erupts and you come so hard you scream. A release. Controlled and contained brightness now spilling out everywhere, you can feel it as you soak his lap. It drips and winds down, and it drunkenly slides off you. Finally, you curl into him, a muddled tingle radiating out across your nerves.

You sink into your skin again and hear him, still whispering, still talking.

“You’re so fucking beautiful when you come it’s okay baby I’ve got you I’ve got you I’m here – I’m gonna – g-gonna – oh, shit,”

His hips thrust up one more time before a full body shudder yanks his words and the air right out of his mouth. You melt as his cum floods your insides, the warm pulses intoxicating in the place he so forcefully claimed for his own. His shoulders curved towards you, his hand pinches the knot of your spine as if to steady himself, palm scalding against your skin. In your exhaustion, your sweaty forehead falls against his.

He doesn’t seem to mind.

Seconds mold into minutes, minutes into maybe hours then days.

Dieter’s trembling elbow finally weakens and with his arm around your back, he tips you both backwards.

His cock rubs up inside of you in a new way and your cunt clenches involuntarily. You both groan when his cum leaks out of you, squeezed out by the contraction. You shift your hips to lay fully on him, and his cock slides out, but his arm around you remains.

It remains long after your breathing settles, long after the sweat dries and your exposed skin grows cold. The longer you lay together, the more you feel he’s going to start stroking you, touching you in a way that a fuck buddy shouldn’t. But he doesn’t. He keeps you close but doesn’t move.

The feeling, the ache in your chest. It’s soothed and hastened by the beating of his heart beneath yours, your ear lying flat against his chest. It beats so loudly for you.

For some unfathomable reason, you glance up at the window. It’s dark out, the sun set and gone. For all you know, you two might be the only two people on the entire lot.

“Dieter.” His name sticks in your mouth. “Dieter, I –,”

“Five stars?”

You blink, lifting your head for the first time in ages, sweat on his skin almost suctioning your ear to his chest. He’s grinning, curls matted and damp against his forehead.

He reaches up to the table behind him and snags that stupid bingo card, along with that packet of shiny gold star stickers.

This feeling, you can contain it.

For now.

Smirking down at him, you peel off one of the bigger stars and with your thumb, you press it into the center of his forehead.

“Five stars, Dieter. Five star dick.”

His smile widens.

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covetyou · 2 months ago

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performance enhancement

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Dieter Bravo & gn!reader rating: Teen (18+ only blog!) warnings: anxiety/stress, Dieter Bravo being a stubborn asshole, cute baby animals, vaguely fluffy word count: 1k summary: I couldn't stop thinking about that baby pygmy hippo and what Dieter would do if he saw it, so this fic was born. you're welcome.

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"I can't work in these fuckin' conditions!"

You hear him before you see him, sat scrolling through your phone as you wait the few hours still left until you have to pick him up. You'd got here early - as you usually did - even though Dieter was frustratingly late more often than not.

The door to the trailer is wrenched open a moment later, and you're raising your eyebrows in disapproval at the grumpy actor as he flings himself inside the trailer, slamming the door behind him.

"I can't do it," he huffs, turning anxiously in a circle, hands on his hips, running through his hair, balling into fists. "I can't fuckin' do it."

"Do what, Dee?" you say from your position curled up on the small bench seat in the trailer.

"This!" he yells, turning to face you gesturing in the vague direction of his face.

You make a face at him, still clueless as to what he's talking about. In a long line of things Dieter Bravo could be frustrated with "this" didn't really help to narrow it down.

"They want me to," he begins, fannining his eyes. "They want me to leak, and I can't."

"Cry?," you laugh. "Dee, it's in the script, of course they want you to. Have you tried the tear -"

The actor rounds on you, shaking his finger in your direction before you can even reach for your bag to see what you have to hand to help.

"No! I do not need performance aides."

"Dieter, it's just to help yo-"

"No!"

Dieter yanks off the thick knit sweater that makes part of his costume and dumps it uncermoniously onto a chair, shaking his arm in frustration as the sleeve just won't give up its hold on his wrist, growling at the garment when he's finally free. He rounds on you again when he's a little more bare, a little less claustrophobic, and flops down next to you.

"I'm not doing it," he says simply, as he tucks himself in beside you on the bench, and that's that, discussion over. You know better than to argue when he's like this so, with a roll of your eyes, you flip your phone back over and continue your aimless scrolling as Dieter's head finds its place on your shoulder.

He fidgets for a little while, the bench not really big enough for the two of you to curl up, until he's slumped down and half turned toward you, legs splayed out in front of him where yours are tucked beneath you.

"Can I watch?" he murmurs sadly a moment later, his face pressed into your arm and eyes screwed tight.

"Dieter, that's up to you. They're your rules, not mine."

Dieter didn't have a phone of his own. Not right now, anyway. That was locked away back at his house, awaiting the day it could be reunited with its owner. For now, all he had was an old send-texts-and-make-calls-only brick of a phone for emergencies, that he mostly used to bug you at all hours of the day. It was a rare day you weren't greeted with a "u up x" text in the morning, or a garbled jumble of letters as he forgot how to text with a number pad.

"I wanna watch," he mumbles into your arm, face pressed so tightly to you now you can feel his lips move against your skin.

"Then go ahead."

You watch then as he slowly opens one eye, peeking out shyly before opening the other and staring wide-eyed at your phone screen. You're only scrolling mindlessly, not really paying much attention to whatever the algorithm is throwing your way. Some stupid ads, spoilers for a show you're not even watching, the red carpet looks of a movie premiere Dieter was invited to, but couldn't make it, and endless shitty takes from random internet strangers. Just a normal day for the internet, but amazing for the man next to you who had kept himself away from the world of unsolicited advice and badly shot paparazzi pictures for weeks.

"Wait," he says suddenly, sitting up and scooting closer to you. "Go back, what was that?"

You scroll a little slower as you move back through the endless monotony on your phone, until Dieter goes stiff by your side and grips your arm.

"That," he says. "What's that? Is it fake?"

Something in you swells, oddly proud at the man for knowing to question something he'd never seen before rather than taking it at face value. More than once he'd come to you gushing over an image only for you to take one look, see the 8 fingers, and have to break the disappointing news to your employer.

"She's real," you say, opening the video for Dieter to take a look. "She's been everywhere the last few days."

"She's beautiful," he murmurs, transfixed on your phone screen. "Look at her. Get that girl an Oscar. Is there more?"

"Yeah, Dee, there's more."

"Can I see?"

You move to hand him your phone, but he refuses to take it, instead choosing to snuggle into your side as you search for the baby hippo that had taken his attention. A few minutes in you almost expect him to be sleeping by your side, but a small sniffle and the swipe of his hand tells you otherwise. Crying over baby animals wasn't new for Dieter, and each time he did it, you found it unbearably sweet. Eventually, he shifts by your side and squares off his shoulders, before standing, grabbing up his ugly sweater, and pulls open his trailer door with a determination to rival his earlier resignation.

"I think I can go back now."

You don't look up at him, transfixed on the tiny hippo staring back at you from your hands. A 180 flip like this wasn't unusual for Dieter. It probably wasn't even his first for today. Either way, you'd still be here when he got back from filming the last scenes of the day, ready to cart him back to the apartment he insisted you stay with him in.

"Do you need the tear stick? Drops? I've got some in-"

"No," he says with certainty. "No, I've got this. Just... just gonna think of that fuckin' hippo."

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x gn!reader #dieter bravo fanfiction #the bubble fanfiction #coveted fics #yes this is somehow a moo deng fanfic now #still not the weirdest thing I've written

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absurdthirst · 1 year ago

Text

Their Greatest Performance {Dieter Bravo x F!Reader x Javi Gutierrez}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 9.4k

Warnings: MMF relationships, simulated sex, public groping, voyeurism, vaginal sex, threesomes, oral sex (male receiving), anal fingering, oral sex (female receiving), anal sex (m/m), unprotected sex, hand jobs, cum eating

Comments: On-set of his latest screenplay, Javi walks into a trailer to find you and Dieter Bravo having sex, opening him up to desires that he never expected to be able to experience.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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

MasterList || Dieter Bravo MasterList || Javi Gutierrez MasterList

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Fuck baby. So good.” Dieter groans, kissing along your neck, and you lift your leg over his hip.

“So good baby.” You rock up to meet his thrusts.

“I love you. Love you.” He murmurs and you whimper, throwing your head back.

“And cut!” The director calls and Dieter pulls back from you, shifting off of you and your assistants rush over with your robes. Javi watches from afar and swallows down the arousal that stirs in his stomach from watching you and Dieter acting out one of the scenes he had written. His third screenplay is a romantic comedy starring two of the most popular actors in Hollywood right now and he just so happens to find them both incredibly attractive.

“Javier-“ You slip into your robe and close it with the sash to turn to smile towards the writer. “Question. Does my character want to vocalize more? I feel like she would moan just a little bit more than she is now . She’s like completely enthralled, right?”

The director had decided that all questions about the characters were to be directed towards Javi Gutierrez, the man who had written the script and one of Hollywood’s hottest writers right now. His two previous scripts had won so many awards that this one was already getting buzz.

It’s easy to get flustered around you. You’re so beautiful and he loves how you really understand the script, his vision. He bites his lip and takes a small step closer to you. “She’s enthralled and - and ready to- to orgasm. It’s been months of build up to this moment. Will they? Won’t they? It’s finally there and she wants to enjoy it. I don’t think she would be quiet.” He says, blushing a little at his saucy words despite the dirty notes he had written in the script.

Javi flusters adorably as he gives you analysis in the character, making you smile as you listen to him in just the robe and modesty pads underneath. It’s been wonderful working with him, the scripts are his babies and it’s his vision that is being brought to life. Turning towards the director, you motion him over. “I think we need to reshoot with more vocalizations.” You hum. “Maybe add some heavy breathing during the voice over recordings?”

Dieter comes over, robe loosely tied and he nods, “I agree. Needs to be more desperate. It’s not needy enough.” He says and Javi feels something stir in his stomach when his dark eyes meet the Oscar winning actors. There’s something incredibly enthralling about him and Javi clears his throat to clear his mind. “Shall we give it another go?” He asks and the director nods, “back to one.” Your assistants come over to take your robes and Javi bites his lip as he watches Dieter settle between your legs.

“You just wanted to make out with me again.” You tease under your breath as the prop directors and lighting people adjust around you. While some people imagined it was very intimate and the emotions were real, love making scenes were often arduous and took forever to get right. The only good thing about reshooting this scene is that you were tangled up with Dieter. For all his bullshit, he was a great actor and a scene partner. His cock twitches through the modesty sock against your mound and you hear him chuckle.

”My trailer or yours?” He murmurs, reaching up and settling his hand against your cheek like the scene calls for. You don’t answer, the director calling for silence on the set.

“Scene three, take two.” The marker is snapped and you hear the director call for action.

Dieter is quick to press his lips to yours, sliding his tongue into your mouth, and he groans when you tangle your fingers in his hair. Moving his hips like he’s fucking you, he leans in to bite down on your earlobe. “You want me deep inside of you?” He murmurs, “I bet you’re soaking wet, aren’t you?” He hums and you throw your head back, “yes!” You cry and Javi swears his cock jumps in his pants at the breathy way you moan. Fuck, watching you and Dieter has him hard and aching and he has to keep sneaking behind the catering table to adjust himself.

The scene is like a well choreographed ballet. Every move practiced and rehearsed meticulously. It blends with the previously shot scenes, although you are more vocal. “Oh fuck baby, I love you.” You gasp, eyes fluttering when Dieter snaps his hips to simulate at particularly rough thrust. “So good, so good, Jav.” You had wondered when the character's name is Javier if Javi had been slightly self-indulgent in this script, but you didn’t mind it. Even if you were fucking Dieter Bravo off set, you can admit that you wouldn’t mind Javi Gutierrez in your bed.

Javi watches with rapture as Dieter rocks against you, listening to you moan his name. It’s intoxicating and he knows he’s going to have to disappear to jerk off, imagining you moaning his name with him inside of you. Dieter looks gorgeous, rocking into you, jaw clenched, and Javi can’t wait to see the playback. “Oh fuck baby. I’m gonna - need you to cum first.” Dieter groans, shifting his hand down to “rub your clit.”

This time when you “cum”, your cries are more like a gasping sob, overwhelmed in the best possible way and Dieter starts to change the rhythm to the ending scene again. “Fuck baby. So good.” Dieter groans, kissing along your neck, and you lift your leg over his hip.

“So good baby.” You rock up to meet his thrusts.

“I love you. Love you.” He murmurs and you whimper, throwing your head back. Blending it into the previous scene and the set claps when the director calls cut this time.

“Oh that was better!” You grin, letting go of your co-stars hair and patting his cheek before he moves back. No one on set knows you are fucking and you prefer to keep it that way.

Javi swears he nearly cums when he hears your cries and he clenches his fists, only loosening them when the director calls him over to watch the playback. You and Dieter are wrapped in robes and come over to watch the playback and Javi inhales sharply when you both crowd around him and the director, your body pressed against his.

“That’s going to get ‘hottest kiss’.” Dieter crows smugly and tosses you a smirk over his shoulder. “Maybe even ‘best intimate scene’.”

You hum and reach out to rub Javi’s back. “He’s the one who envisioned it.” You coo.

Your hand on his back makes his stomach twist and he tries to shove down his desires, to focus on his work and to be professional. “You are the ones who made it come to life.” Javi compliments you and Dieter, “it’s beautiful. Just like I imagined and it feels so real.” He says in awe, watching the way you close your eyes in ‘bliss’ on the screen.

“Are we breaking for lunch?” You ask, knowing you need to go to your trailer for a bit. Although if the director needs to push through to film the next scene, you will. “No, we are going to rub you down for the after sex chat.” You nod and when the makeup girl comes over, you step off to the side to remove your robe and let her prepare your shoulders.

Javi watches you and Dieter get prepared and he admires the muscles in the leading actors back, so strong and broad. He isn’t sure who is more beautiful, you or Dieter. He’s struggling, not sure what to say or do when his attraction is starting to get the better of him. Thankfully, the director calls for you to get into position.

“I don’t want to be away from you either baby.” Dieter murmurs, caressing your back, fingertips brushing along your spine. “I love you. So much. They can’t keep us apart now.” He smiles, knowing the script calls for you and his character Javier to be parted for a while. It’s going to be his second Oscar, he can feel it. “We will be together.” He vows, sealing his promise with a soft kiss. “And cut!” The director yells and Dieter resists the urge to kiss you again.

You grin as you sit up, not bothering to cover your breasts. Everyone on this set has seen them all day. “How was that? Another take?” You ask, glancing from the director to Javi. You don’t miss the way that his eyes drop to your chest and you feel your cunt clench as he tightens his hand into fists. You know that he’s attracted to you and you would be lying if you didn’t say that you wanted him.

“Let’s watch it back.” The director orders and Javi watches it on the screen, loving how beautiful you are, ethereal, with the ‘morning light’ shining over you.

“You think he likes it?” Dieter asks, his eyes watching Javi as he sits up next to you, his hand discreetly squeezing your hip.

“I hope so.” You murmur quietly. “When we break for lunch, can you come to my trailer?” You ask, your core dripping with need and you know that your lunch hour will be filled with a frantic fucking that will satiate you until the end of the work day. “I need you to fuck me.”

Dieter groans softly, “always down for fucking you.” He promises, knowing you will soak his cock again and again now he knows what you like. He remembers the first time you slept together after the first rehearsal and you decided to come over to his place to practice some lines and you ended up sitting on his face. “You want me to make you cum, baby girl?” He coos, unaware that Javier is glancing over at you both.

“Fuck yes.” You answer breathlessly, reaching over and quickly squeezing his cock before letting go. You know that most won’t care if you are fucking Dieter, but you don’t want there to be another set of rumors running around the set. Your co-star already has a wild reputation, especially after the split from Anika and Kate, you don’t want to be looked at as another notch on his bedpost. “Want you to bend me over this time.”

“Whatever baby wants, baby gets.” He promises with a wink and you shuffle off of the bed so you can shrug on your robe. Dieter grunts as he stands up, trying to conceal his semi until his robe is on. It’s not unusual for actors to get hard during sex scenes but he doesn’t like to parade it. That’s for you later. “I think it’s time for lunch. That’s a wrap for this scene.” The director calls and then the AD announces lunch.

Javi stares at the two of you in shock, his cock throbbing at what he had just watched. You had reached over and groped Dieter’s cock and he doesn’t know who he is more jealous of. You for touching Dieter, or the other man for being able to feel your lusty touch. He doesn’t think about food, watching as the two of you discreetly slip out the doors with a pointed look at each other and he wonders if you are going to meet up to fuck. He has to follow you, the urge to find out overwhelming him as he reaches down to adjust himself again.

“Such a fucking tease.” Dieter whines when he enters your trailer, immediately gripping your hips. “You know how fucking sexy you are.” He groans when you wrap your arms around his neck and he surges forward to press his lips to yours, his tongue immediately sliding in and he unties your robe, shoving it off of your shoulders.

“Always so greedy.” You moan quietly, sliding your hands under his robe to pull off the modesty sock and wrap your hand around his hardening cock. “I want you to fuck me, Dieter.”

“I’m going to. Gonna fucking ruin you.” He promises, shrugging off the robe and he squeezes your ass, guiding you back towards the small bed in your trailer. “So fucking sexy. Wanted to fuck you then and there.” He confesses, flipping you onto your hands and knees and he grips your hips. “Want me to fuck you?” He asks as you wiggle your ass.

“Yes.” You mewl, pushing your ass back into his hard cock. Dieter, for all his bullshit, is fucking great in bed. Especially when he’s not high, which he’s not been using as much since his last rehab stint. “Baby please, I need you so badly, so fucking wet from filming.”

He grips his cock, positioning himself at your entrance and he groans as he pushes inside of you. “Fuck baby.” He pants, loving how good you feel around him. No one feels as good as you. “Gonna fuck you.” He promises, pushing deep inside of you, his hips digging into your ass.

You love how eager Dieter is. How he is always willing to fuck you whenever. Even if he can’t get it up, he will have you sit on his face, basking in the praise of your cries. Right now, you moan quietly. Aware that someone could pass by the trailer and you don’t want to attract too much attention. Although you know Dieter is an exhibitionist.

Javier is walking up to the trailer when he hears your cries, his cock twitching and he knows he should knock but his mind is clouded with need and desire. He grips the door handle and he opens it. His dark eyes wide at the sight that greets him. Dieter thrusting hard and deep inside of you. “Fuck.” Javi groans softly to himself, frozen in the doorway.

“Fuck!” Your eyes widen but Dieter doesn’t stop rocking into you, groaning when he sees Javier standing in the doorway.

“Fuck, close the door.” Dieter tells him, fingers digging into your hips. “Watch her cum.”

Javi’s jaw drops and he quickly shuts the door. The slap of Dieter’s hips against your ass is the only sound in the room and Javier leans against the wall. “I- I’m sorry. I didn’t -”

Dieter shakes his head, “stay. Watch her. I know you want to.”

Your eyes meet his, body rocking forward every time Dieter’s cock spears into you. You moan at the wickedness of it. “You should suck his cock baby.” Dieter suggests, “he’s getting hard watching me fuck you.” Your eyes drop down to his tented trousers and your mouth starts to water. “Let her suck your cock, Javi. You should feel how tight she just got when I suggested it.”

“No. I - I should go.” He shakes his head, about to open the door, but you shake your head.

“Come here. I want to.” You tell him and Javi bites his lip, meeting Dieter’s gaze. He nods and Javi knows he can't turn down this opportunity. He walks over to the bed, working on his belt and he’s soon pulling his cock out.

He’s throbbing, still aching from watching you and Dieter act. “Do you want to suck my cock, hermosa?” He asks, caressing your cheek.

“Fuck me.” Dieter’s eyes widen at the other man’s thick cock. “If you were into men, I would want to suck your cock.” Javi nearly chokes and Dieter groans at the thought. He twitches deep inside you, making you moan as you reach out to wrap your fingers around his girth.

“I really want to suck your cock, Javi.” You lean forward and take the tip into your mouth as Dieter continues to rock into you.

Javi’s eyes widen as you look up at him, taking him deeper into your mouth, and he groans. “Mierda.” He hisses, unable to believe how hot your mouth is, and his gaze flicks up to meet Dieter’s. “She’s good, huh?” He asks and the Spaniard nods, “so good.” Dieter chuckles, rocking into you and he slaps your ass so you moan around his cock.

Your fingers hook into his belt loops and drag him closer. He moans quietly and your lips stretch into a smile as you pull back to flick your tongue over the head and take him back into your mouth.

Dieter slows down his pace a little but he thrusts harder, forcing Javi’s cock further down your throat, and you moan around his girth, stretching your jaw.

“Shit.” Javi hisses, cupping the back of your head and Dieter smirks, “you look so handsome when you’re being pleasured. Wouldn’t mind some of that directed at me.”

Javi sputters, thinking Dieter is teasing him, but the actor reaches out and drags Javi closer to him, making him hunch over and push his cock down your throat. Taking advantage of the way his mouth drops open to slide his tongue into the writer’s mouth.

Javi reacts immediately, sliding his tongue against Dieter’s and he has never been with a man like this before. He’s imagined it several times but has never acted on his desires. He cups Dieter’s cheek, groaning into his mouth when you swallow around his cock and Dieter keeps pushing inside of you.

You whine around Javi’s cock, imagining how sexy the two men look sharing a kiss. Reaching down, you fondle Javi’s balls and it makes him buck up into your mouth, nearly choking you. Still he doesn’t pull his hips back, just groaning above you as he kisses your lover.

Dieter makes the kiss last, knowing that Javier hasn’t had this experience before. He wants you to cum on his cock so he reaches for Javier’s hand, bringing it under your body and he presses his finger against your clit, using his own to rub circles so the two men pleasure you at the same time. Dieter’s cock pushing deep inside your pussy while Javi pushes down your throat while their tongues tangle.

Your moan is muffled by Javi’s cock but you keen in pleasure. Feeling your core starting to tighten and pulse as you get closer to cumming. Pushing your hips back and Dieter hits just right, making stars burst behind your eyes.

When you moan around his cock, Javi is lost. The build up to this moment, weeks of watching you and Dieter film, have him spilling down your throat and he pulls his hand away from your clit to grip your neck as you try to swallow his cum. “Goddamn that’s a pretty sight.” Dieter groans at the look on Javi’s face as he cums and Dieter isn’t ready to cum yet.

You swallow around his cock as much as you can. Dribbles of his cum escaping out of the corners of your mouth. Making you eager to lick it up after you pull off of him. Your hand caresses his hip as he rides out his high.

Javi pants, feeling better than he has in weeks, and he reaches down to caress your cheek, swiping up a drop of his cum to push it into your mouth. “So pretty.” He murmurs and Dieter grunts, starting to push deep inside of you again, seeking his own orgasm.

You gasp around Javi’s thumb. “Fuck Dee.” You moan, knowing how much he gets off on someone watching. He grunts, his fingers digging into your hips until you know you will wear bruises under the skin for days. “Oh fuck!” You squeal when he hits perfectly inside your still fluttering cunt and you squeeze him tight.

Dieter hisses when you squeeze him, like a fucking vice, and it sends him over the edge with a grunt. Burying his cock deep, he paints your walls with his cum and his eyes close while Javier watches him. His spent cock twitching with interest and Javi knows he needs to see that again and again. He doesn’t want this to be a one time thing.

It’s the little grunt of satisfaction and the way that his hands caress your hips that make you sigh. “That was good,” you whimper, loving the feeling of his cum filling you up. Dieter was negative for any STI and your birth control was assured, so it was fun to indulge in cum play. “Did you enjoy the show, Javier?”

He nods frantically, reaching out to caress your breast, cupping it in his hand. “I have watched you both for weeks, fascinated and attracted to you both. I have never been with a man but there’s something about you.” Javier confesses to Dieter who smirks.

“Have ya seen me?” He jokes and smacks your ass. “We don’t have long left for lunch but I’m thinking we should all meet for dinner and…maybe have some more fun?” Dieter suggests, biting his bottom lip.

“I would like that a lot.” Javi nods and you shift onto your knees, cum dripping onto the sheets below.

“Then it’s settled…dinner after we finish filming for today.” Leaning in, you press your lips to Javi’s, making him groan as your tongue slides into his mouth and he tastes his salty cum lingering. Reaching down and carefully tucking him away before you break the kiss and pat his chest gently. “I need to clean up.” You murmur, smiling at him and then Dieter before you start to shuffle off the small bed.

Dieter watches you stumble slightly into the small bathroom and he smirks, “she’s gorgeous. So are you.” Dieter leans in to kiss Javi, wanting to taste him some more. “Dinner later…then I want you for dessert.” Dieter winks and shuffles off of the bed so he can clean himself up.

Javi swallows, excited and nervous, and he quickly tucks himself away. “I will see you back on set.” He calls out and he makes his exit, knowing this is the beginning of something beautiful.

“That’s a wrap for today!” The director calls out and you smirk as you know that Dieter is already bouncing to get back to the hotel.

“Javi?” You call as your assistant comes up and hands you the phone you had given her and your keys. “Would you like to get together and discuss the character more?” You know it won’t seem strange. “Ride back with me and Dieter? I know he had some questions too.”

Javi has been unable to think of anything other than you and Dieter all day so he nods, "yes. Yes." Realizing how eager he sounds, he clears his throat. "I'd like that." Dieter smirks and sends him a wink, knowing that the writer is going to experience something he has never experienced before. You grin and Javi wipes his hands on his pants as Dieter starts to guide you out of the studio.

There’s no need to change right now. The clothes you are wearing will be brought back to the studio but you have another costume just like it with the changes made for the rips in the fabric. “There’s no pressure.” You promise, both you and Dieter walking along either side of the other man. “If you don’t want to do something, it’ll be okay, we just want to have fun.”

Javi nods, knowing that you and Dieter won’t push him but he wants to try something new. He gets into the car that takes you and Dieter back to the hotel and he goes to get in the front seat but Dieter grabs him, pulling him in so you are squashed between the two men in the back seat.

“Everyone is coming back to my room,” Dieter declares. “We can order dinner and I have party favors.” He smirks, imagining getting high and experimenting with you and Javier.

Javi hasn’t taken drugs, it’s never been his thing, but he never thought he was bi when he met Dieter. Perhaps it’s time he tries something new. “Slow down baby. Javi is new to this. Be gentle.” You shake your head, reaching for Javi’s hand to squeeze it.

“It’s okay, hermosa. I like it a little rough.” He admits with a blush and Dieter smirks, “see?”

You huff, knowing that Dieter is going to be cocky about this. He loves when men are attracted to him, especially if that man isn’t necessarily experienced. “Do you like it to be rough or to have someone be rough with you?” You ask curiously. “Do you like to spank? Bite?”

“I’m a biter.” Javi admits with a smirk, “and I am, as you say, a switch. I like to spank and be spanked.” His hands find yours and Dieter’s thighs so he can squeeze, making Dieter smirk even more. “Is that where you got your inspiration for the script?”

“There is a lot of me in this.” Javi admits, biting his lip. “I have a very good imagination.” His fingers slide up Dieter’s thigh and he’s rewarded with a grunt and a twitch of the other man’s half hard cock.

Dieter is not a shy man so he grabs Javi’s hand to put it on his cock, making him groan as he squeezes him. “You’re so long.” Javi groans and he turns his head, wanting to kiss the movie star. You’re turned on, watching Javi discover himself, and he presses his lips to Dieter’s.

You don’t feel neglected. You aren’t a person who is jealous by nature. You have no problem sharing, especially with two men as gorgeous as they are. Watching them kiss is like being given a gift.

Dieter slides his tongue against Javier’s, cupping his cheek. He groans into his mouth and loves how eager he is. Javier pulls back after a moment and turns his head, pressing his lips against yours. Sandwiched between two beautiful actors, Javier is getting hard.

Your fingers slide into Javi’s perfectly styled longer locks. Enjoying the way his curls twirl around your fingers. Kissing him just as eagerly as Dieter had.

Dieter caresses Javier's thigh, squeezing him through his slacks, and Javi groans into your mouth. "We are approaching the hotel." The driver informs you all and you reluctantly pull away from Javi. "One last stretch then I want you naked." Dieter tells Javi with a peck to his lips, and Javi reaches down to adjust himself as the car pulls up. Thankfully, the lobby is quiet since it's late and Dieter is practically sprinting to the elevator.

You walk beside Javi, laughing at Dieter as he holds the door to the car open and motions to you to hurry up. “He is eager.” You coo to Javi, feeling him start to get nervous as the time draws closer. “He’s talked about how handsome you are for weeks.”

Javier blushes at your words, "I have been attracted to you both since I saw the chemistry test. The energy between you is electric. You are both so sexy. Did you - did you sleep together before you started filming?" Javier asks as he steps onto the elevator and Dieter presses the button for the top floor, his hands finding your ass to pull you against him.

“After the table read.” You admit, biting your lip as you look over at Dieter. “We went out for some drinks and it went from there.” You aren’t ashamed of that, even if it wasn’t something that would probably last, you are having fun and enjoying yourself. Dieter can be surprisingly emotional at times and thoughtful. Leaning in, you kiss his cheek.

Dieter smacks your ass playfully, jiggling your cheeks, and you giggle, making him smirk. “Couldn’t resist this one when I heard her saying all those naughty words you wrote.” Dieter confesses, knowing his weakness is dirty talk. Javier flushes, knowing he had had to relieve himself a few times when working on those scenes, jerking off while he acted them out in his own mind. The elevator dings and Dieter grabs your hand and Javier’s, dragging you both down the hallway.

“It’s obvious this is going to be a lot of fun.” You giggle as all three of you hustle towards the suite where Dieter is staying. Of course this would happen in his room. He had the drugs and most of the toys, even the ones you have are now in his room since you end up fucking nearly every night. “We should eat dinner naked.” You decide, watching Javier’s eyes wide and he nearly stumbles over the plush carpet in the hallway.

Javier looks around the suite once the door is shut, glancing around, and he sees the coke scattered on the silver tray, the pills and the empty bottles. “Is this - you do drugs too?” Javi asks you, knowing about Dieter’s penchant for manufactured escapes but not you. His eyes look across the room to the bed where several toys are lined up and he blushes, wondering what the housekeepers must think.

“Rarely.” You shrug and lay a hand on his shoulder. “Most often it’ll just be ecstasy if I want to feel really good. But you don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.” You assure him. “Dieter won’t mind. He offers, he doesn’t push.”

Dieter nods, coming over to caress Javi’s back, “I never push. If you want some, I’m generous. If not, it’s okay.” He promises and Javier nods, “I- I have taken LSD.” He confesses and Dieter grins, “a man after my own heart. Whatever you want, it’s yours.” He promises, leaning in to peck his lips.

Watching the two men share a moment, you walk over to the book with the room service menu to decide what to order. You already know what Dieter likes and take a guess after seeing what Javi gets from crafts services. Adding a bottle of champagne and three glasses to the order, you hum as you hand up and decide to start stripping.

Javier watches you with wide eyes and Dieter smirks, leaning in. “She’s fucking gorgeous, ain’t she?” He murmurs, kissing Javier’s neck and his fingers play with the buttons on Javier’s shirt. “Wanna get naked?” He asks and Javi nods, eyes still on you as Dieter quickly removes his shirt.

You are comfortable in your skin. Perfect? No, but no one actually is. It’s enough for you that these two men want you for now and you love how dark Javi’s eyes get. “Now we get to see you nude.” You coo as you drop the last thing and start to walk over to them. “I know you are sexy. I’ve thought so since your first awards show.”

Javier blushes, suddenly shy under the lust filled stares of two movie stars. He kicks off his shoes as Dieter works on his belt while you caress his chest, and Javier surges forward to press his lips to yours, cupping the back of your neck so he can deepen the kiss.

The kiss is organic, deepening with a moan as you open up to let him explore your mouth. He’s a giver. You can tell that by the way he cups your head and his tongue strokes yours before he explores. Swallowing your sounds until he chokes out on his own and you glance down, seeing Dieter taking the other man’s cock into his mouth.

Javier pulls back from your mouth to look down at Dieter on his knees, his dark eyes meeting Javi's as he takes his cock into his mouth with a groan. "Hijo de puta." Javi curses, his hand on your waist squeezing while his other hand finds Dieter's head, running his fingers through his hair.

Dieter is a slut for praise. Javi’s hissed curse just makes the other man that much more eager to pull groans out of him. Especially since it’s very likely it’s his first blowjob by another man. He wants to make sure it’s the sloppiest, best thing that he’s ever had. Dieter considers it a point of pride to be good at sucking cock and eating pussy. “That mouth is fucking fantastic, isn’t it?” You purr, reaching down and stroking his hair with Javi. “Next time we will both suck your cock together.”

“Fuck. Yes. Yes. Sí, hermosa.” Javi is lost to the pleasure, your hand caressing his chest while he watches Dieter suck on his cock. It’s more than he could’ve ever imagined and it’s almost enough to make him cum but he exhales shakily to control himself.

“Take him deeper.” You order Dieter and he moans, following your demand enough to make Javi choke on his own breath. “Good boy.” You coo, cupping Dieter’s soaked chin and feeling Javi’s cock twitch inside his mouth, “do you want to try?” You ask Javi. “Dee is nearly as thick as you are but he’s longer. It’s more than a mouthful.” You joke playfully.

Javi nods, wanting to see Dieter look at him with pleasure on his gorgeous face. Dieter won’t argue with receiving pleasure so he pulls off of Javi’s cock and quickly moves to sit down on the sofa. “Come on pretty boy.” Dieter coos, his cock hard against his stomach and Javi shifts to kneel down in front of him, reaching out to wrap his fingers around his hard cock, in awe of how velvety it is, hard as steel. “Guide me.” Javi orders you before he leans forward to wrap his lips around the head.

You don’t hesitate to kneel beside him, watching up close as he takes him deeper into his mouth. “Pause and swallow around him.” You urge. “Your mouth is going to water a lot with him and he loves the feeling.” Your hand slides down so you can rub your clit while your other wraps around Javi’s still wet cock to pump it.

Dieter groans, watching you and Javi kneel in front of him and he thinks this might be better than taking any drug. Javi follows your order, swallowing around Dieter’s cock and the actor curses, spitting out a “fuck.” You smirk and twist your wrist enough to make Javier groan around the cock in his mouth.

The sounds that come from the three of you are obscene. Filling the room as Javi takes Dieter deeper and deeper, getting comfortable. Wrapping his hand around the base of the other man’s length and starts stroking it.

“Fuck. He’s good.” Dieter compliments the writer, his fingers running through the curly locks of the Spaniard and he meets your gaze. “Are you enjoying yourself, baby?” He asks you, knowing you’ve wanted to touch Javi for a while.

“Yes.” You moan, tilting your head up so he can kiss you. It’s wicked and decadent and everything you’ve wanted when you thought about both men together. “I know you are.”

The kiss is dirty and sloppy and both men groan, enjoying it, and Javi’s cock twitches in your hand while Dieter’s cock twitches in his mouth. Javi’s fingers work the base and Dieter knows it won’t take long for him to cum.

Your fingers move over your clit desperately while you pump Javi’s cock. Tongue sliding against Dieter’s as he groans into your mouth. Eager to swallow them down.

Dieter pants, wordlessly telling you how close he is to his orgasm, and you whimper, watching Javi close his eyes as Dieter’s cock twitches in his throat. “Fuckkkkkk.” Dieter whines, cock pulsing and Javier tries to swallow him down but a few drops escape. When you lean in to lap them up from his chin, Dieter swears he cums again.

Javier pulls off of Dieter’s cock with a gasp and you lean forward to take it into your mouth, cleaning him up with your mouth as he whines from the overstimulation. Grinning when he gasps again and tries to shift away before you pull off and turn to kiss Javier, tasting your lover on his tongue.

Javi groans into your mouth, tongue tangling with yours, and he sighs when you reach down to squeeze his cock. “Wanna suck you off.” You tell him and Dieter shifts, looking at you with a pout. “I wanna eat your pussy. Sit on my face and suck Javi off.” Dieter orders shifting to lay down on the sofa.

Javi frowns, knowing that you had sucked him off earlier but he’s aching for release. You beckon him up onto the bed and straddle Dieter’s face in a way that shows him this isn’t the first time the actor has wanted you to sit on him. “Let me suck you off and we’ll fuck after we eat.”

Javi nods, shifting to kneel on the bed so his cock is hovering near your face. He groans when you wrap your fingers around him and Dieter is dragging you down onto his face so he can slide his tongue through your folds. “Fuck baby.” Javier groans when you take him into your mouth.

Dieter slides his tongue through your folds, making you moan around Javi’s cock and push back into him. His fingers dig into your hips hard enough that you will feel them later and you look up at Javi under your lashes. Pushing his cock down your throat just like Dieter had earlier.

“Fuck. You are so beautiful.” Javier groans, caressing your cheek, and he swears he’s died and gone to heaven. You are gorgeous and he loves how eager you are. How eager Dieter is. He reaches down to gently squeeze your throat, feeling his cock bulging the skin.

All you can do is moan around him, Dieter ravenously devouring your cunt and you lurch forward to choke yourself on Javi’s cock when he curls two fingers up inside you perfectly. Your orgasm is building inside you with every flick of his tongue and curl of his fingers and you frantically bob on the Spaniard’s cock to make him experience as much pleasure as you are.

Javier groans, his hands caressing your shoulders as you take him again and again. “Fuck. I’m - mierda. I’m gonna-” He warns you before his cock starts to throb and pulses, the spurting of his cum coating your throat as he squeezes his eyes shut. A low groan escapes his lips as he enjoys his orgasm.

Like you had earlier, you drink down every drop you can. Enjoying the way he moans and rocks his hips shallowly until your own orgasm rockets through you and you pull off his cock to cry out Dieter’s name.

Javier almost cums against watching you writhe on top of Dieter. His tongue delves inside of you and you whine, tossing your head back and he watches with rapture. Dieter loves when you cum on his face, the way you squeeze his head with your thighs. It’s enough to make him hard again.

Panting, you give a breathless sigh as you move off Doeter. “God baby, you are so good at that.” You kiss his lips right as the knock at the door signals the food has arrived. “And so perfectly timed.”

Dieter smirks, smacking your ass before he shuffles off of the bed, picking up his robe to tie it around himself, and he makes his way to the door to let room service in. “Don’t mind the mess.” He gestures to the clothes on the floor.

You and Javier are under the covers and if the waiter thinks it’s unusual for there to be multiple people in a hotel room, he doesn’t comment. Quickly setting up the meals and leaving just as fast. “Dinner is here.” Dieter motions you over. “Come eat.”

Javier shifts to get out of the bed, walking over to the table where the food is set up and he finds his boxers on the floor. He pulls them on and sits down after pulling the chair out for you to sit down. “This looks delicious.” He hums, suddenly starving after the orgasms he’s had today.

“The hotel has great meals.” You admit. “Oftentimes Dieter and I order room service. That’s why there haven’t been many sightings of us in the area.” You hum as you settle in your chair, completely naked. “We are eating room service and having sex.”

Javi chuckles, “doesn’t sound bad to me.”

Dieter smirks as he reaches for the burger you ordered for him. “Especially when her sweet pussy is dessert.” Dieter winks and Javi grins, excited that he can spend this time with such beautiful people.

“I may be ordering room service more often.” Javier blushes, knowing he’s just invited himself back into your rooms.

You smirk happily and give a small shrug as you fork up your first bite. “It’s a good thing that we all like room service.” You tease, reaching under the table and squeezing his thigh. “Have you liked your night so far?” You ask. “What fantasies do you want to come true?”

Javier digs into his meal, taking a moment. “I want to - I want to have Dieter inside of me.” He says and Dieter smirks, pleased to hear that.

“If that’s what you want. We have lube. I can make you feel you, handsome.” He promises and winks at you, “we can make his dreams come true, can’t we baby?”

“Of course we can.” You send him a wink back and fork up a bite that you know Dieter will love and offer it to him. “We are very indulgent and love to make dreams come true.”

Dieter chews on the food after wrapping his lips around the fork, groaning at the taste. “I am glad to hear that. I have a lot of dreams.” Javier hums, reaching for your hand on his thigh and he squeezes it, wanting to touch you more.

“Eat your dinner and we can make that happen.” You promise, leaning in and dropping a kiss on his lips. “I was thinking you could warm your cock inside me while Dieter breaks you open for the first time.”

Javier nods, eager and nervous for what the rest of the night holds. He has never explored this part of himself. Sure, he had admired men on the beach back on Mallorca, but he didn't act upon his desires. Too scared of the repercussions from Lucas and his father. He is free now to be who he wants and he wants to discover what he likes. He is eating faster than usual, eager to begin his exploration.

The three of you finish your meals and once everything is loaded back onto a tray, you lean over and press your lips to Javi’s. “Do you want to go to bed with us, gorgeous?” You coo, scattering kisses down his jawline. “Dieter and I both want to make you feel good. So good you won’t remember your own name.”

Javi nods, “yes baby. I want you. Both of you.” Dieter smirks and leans in, cupping his cheek to turn his head so he can press his lips to Javi’s. He then grabs your head to bring you close, bringing you in to join in on the kiss.

It’s messy. Tongues tangling and moans being exchanged but you feel the fire lighting in your belly. Eager to show this beautiful man how good pleasure can be with the three of you together.

Dieter groans, sliding his hand down to squeeze Javi through his thin boxers, his cock half hard and Dieter kisses down his neck, allowing you to kiss Javier properly, cupping his cheeks to deepen the kiss. Dieter pushes his boxers down, gripping his cock and Javi groans into your mouth at the overwhelming touches.

You hum, fully aware that Dieter is starting to get impatient. He loves pleasure and it’s either having an orgasm or getting high. Preferably both. Breaking off the kiss, you caress Javi’s cheek. “You want to move to the bed, baby? That way we can make sure you are nice and ready for Dee’s big cock?”

Javier nods, excited and nervous for what awaits him.

“Please.” He murmurs, watching you as you kneel on the bed and shrug off his shirt that you’d picked up to eat in. You’re unbelievably sexy and Javier knows he’s lucky you want him like this. Dieter comes over, pulling the lube and a condom from the drawer. “Gonna take good care of you.” Dieter promises, shrugging off his robe.

You see the reason that Javi searches around nervously and you lean in, caressing his cheek. “Just relax, baby. Dieter knows what he’s doing and if you ever want to stop you just say the word and we will.

Javi nods, swallowing down his nerves, and he knows you will look after him, Dieter will look after you. He reaches for your hand, kissing your palm, “I want this. I want to experience this.”

“Do you want him to stretch you open with his fingers or a toy?” You ask seriously. “Dieter has a lot of toys. They are clean and perfect for this.”

“Fingers first. Then a toy.” Dieter says, knowing it will be best for him to open him up and Javier nods, “yes. I want that.”

Dieter smiles, “then kneel on your hands and knees baby. I want you to be comfortable.”

There is something about watching this gorgeous man who is obviously nervous get into such a vulnerable position so eagerly that is amazing. Stroking his back gently, you kiss his face and hum. “I'm going to suck your cock for you while Dieter works you open, baby.

Javi feels a little overwhelmed but calms himself as he watches you shift to lay down beneath him, his eyelashes fluttering as you start to take him into your mouth. Dieter strokes his back down to his ass cheek, “relax, beautiful. I’m gonna take care of you. If you don’t like it, you tell me and we stop, okay?” He asks and Javi nods, “okay.” Squirting lube onto his fingers, Dieter circles Javi’s puckered hole and Javi moans at the sensation.

His cock twitches in your mouth, making you smirk. Knowing that he is feeling slightly vulnerable. You stroke his sides while you lunge up to take him deeper down your throat. Wanting him to feel good as he endeavors to try something new. The moment that Dieter’s finger pushes inside him, Javi lurches forward and chokes you on his cock.

“Fuck.” He groans, lost in the sensations. He closes his eyes as Dieter pumps his finger until he’s adding a second one, stretching Javi out. “Fuck. You’re so handsome.” Dieter murmurs, leaning down to playfully bite Javi’s ass cheek, making the Spaniard moan in delight.

You keep mouthing at his cock as he starts to rock his hips, seeking Dieter’s fingers as he gets used to the sensation of having someone finger him. You know that he is enjoying himself, every moan gets louder and you are having to swallow every salty spurt of precum when Dieter presses up against his prostate.

“Mierda.” Javi hisses when you take him deeper and Dieter’s fingers scissor inside of him to open him up. It’s more pleasure than he’s ever felt and he’s getting closer to his orgasm. “I don’t - want to be inside - don’t want to cum yet.” He manages to spit out.

Pulling off of him, you slither out from under him and press a wet, opened mouth kiss to his lips. Cunt now dripping with arousal as you kiss Javi. Once you pull away, you can see the heavy lidded pleasure and smirk back at Dieter where he is slowly stroking his own cock as he scissors his fingers inside the other man.

Dieter adds another finger, not wanting Javi to be in pain, and when Javi grinds back onto his digits, he knows he is ready. With a smirk, Dieter withdraws his fingers and reaches for the lube, coating his hard cock and smothering more on Javier’s puckered hole. “Are you ready, handsome?” He asks, caressing his ass.

You pet his face as he nods, biting his lip. “I am.” He manages. “Just- just be gentle.” You click your tongue and press your lips to his cheek. “Dee will be very gentle.” You promise him. “And when you are ready, I’ll get under you so you can slide inside me.”

Javier nods, bracing himself as Dieter starts to push inside of him, and he knows this is going to be a little uncomfortable despite Dieter doing a good job opening him. “Oh.” Javi grunts when Dieter pushes past the ring of muscle, “you doing okay?” The actor asks and Javi nods, closing his eyes.

“It’s- fuck-“ Javi spits, trying not to squirm but it’s almost too much. He had never thought that he would ever feel this, panting slightly at the sensation. You kiss him, murmuring words of praise and tell him how good he’s doing. How fucking hot the two of them look and how you can’t wait to feel his cock inside you. After long minutes, Dieter's hips are flush with his ass and he is completely buried inside the other man.

Javi groans when Dieter starts to pull out, making him hiss in pleasure and that’s when you start to shift underneath him. “Both of you. Hermosas. So beautiful.” He murmurs, lost in the pleasure running along his spine from Dieter inside of him. The actor leans over, kissing the writer’s back, and he coos, “you’re taking me so well.”

“Jesus, I need you inside me.” You pant, wanting to be a part of something so gorgeous that it is making you greedy. Propping your legs on Javi’s hips, you feel Dieter’s hands caressing your thighs. “How are you feeling, handsome?” You coo, looking up at Javi’s wrecked face.

Javi is overwhelmed but feeling pleasure like he’s never known. “I- fuck. I feel so good.” He pants, “I need - I want you.” He murmurs and you smile, reaching down to wrap your fingers around his cock, guiding him inside of you. Javi drops his hips and Dieter follows him, allowing Javier this moment to push inside of you.

“Ohhhh fuck.” You whine, throwing your head back in pleasure at how thick Javi is. Dieter is amazing but you love the way Javi’s cock pushes against your walls as he breaks you open. “Oh fuck baby.” You bite your lip and caress his side, feeling the weight of both men on top of you.

Dieter groans, caressing your thighs as he pushes into Javier which sends the Spaniard deeper inside of you. Javier pants, the pleasure is mind blowing and he cannot believe how good it feels to have Dieter inside of him. “Is it - is it good?” Javi asks you, wanting you to be pleasured too.

“Yes.” You promise him, arching up and rolling your hips as both men start to move. “Yes, oh fuck yess!” You moan when they both thrust forward and the feeling is intense.

You whimper and Dieter squeezes your calf. “She loves it. She sounds like she’s sopping wet around your cock.” Dieter squeezes Javi’s ass, leaning down to kiss his back. “Gonna make her cum?” Dieter asks and Javi nods, “yes. Yes.”

The pace starts slow, the two men start to find their own rhythm as they pull their hips back and push them forward. All you can do is take it and moan your approval. Each time the throaty cries fall from your lips and you feel Javi twitch inside you as he watches you.

It’s a beautiful sight, the three of you moving in tandem to pleasure and please each other. Dieter is groaning at the way Javi grips his cock while Javi groans at the way you are fluttering around his length. His hand comes up to squeeze your breast, shifting onto his elbows so he can press his lips to yours.

Humming into the kiss, you start to slide your tongue into his mouth. Keeping your tongue eager and searching as you kiss him. Your legs tighten around him, urging them on as he starts to whine, the man behind picking up his pace as he starts to get greedy for more pleasure.

Dieter grunts, picking up his pace, and he can feel himself getting closer. Javi is tight and he is struggling to keep his composure. “I’m - shit - you feel too good. Gonna make me cum.” Dieter admits and Javi moans into your mouth, pulling back to say “do it. Want you to cum inside of me.” Dieter can’t hold back after that, surging forward to bury his cock deep and he fills Javi with his hot seed.

Javi’s eyes flutter closed, moaning quietly as he experiences Dieter filling him up. Triggering his own orgasm as he lets out a choked cry. Hot spurts of cum fill you up and he bites his lip as he realizes that you didn’t cum before he blew his load.

Dieter frowns, shifting to look down at you. “Did you cum baby?” He asks and you bite your lip, hesitating to answer. Dieter nods, slowly pulling out of Javi and the writer moans, pulling out of you and he moves fast to shift between your legs, his tongue immediately sliding through your folds.

Whining in surprise, you tangle your fingers into his hair. Dieter groans, admiring the way his cum is starting to push out of Javi before he slides down beside him and pushes your thigh up onto his shoulders so he can dive into your cream filled cunt as well.

Javi shifts over so Dieter can flick his tongue over your clit while Javi pushes his tongue inside of you, his hand sliding up to squeeze your breast. Both men are eager to make you cum, both men want you to fall apart under their tongues.

Closing your eyes, you gasp their names one after the other. One hand curls into Javi’s hair and the other gripping the sheets as they make your cunt the sole focus of their attention. Lapping at his cum from your walls, Javi groans into your fluttering cunt while you feel the tension building in your core. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

Dieter sucks harder on your clit, wanting you to fall apart, and when you shake, he knows you’re cumming. Javi pushes his tongue deep, wanting to feel it, and you gasp out as you orgasm for the two men between your thighs.

Your scream is loud, echoing around the room as you fall apart for both men. Eyes cinched shut and tugging on Javi’s hair. Shuddering under the pressure of your orgasm.

Javi laps at your folds, savoring the tangy taste of you combined with his cum, and Dieter sucks your clit until you are pushing his head away. “So fucking perfect.” Dieter murmurs, kissing your mound when you run your fingers through his hair.

“We need to do this again.” You pant out with a breathless chuckle. Looking down at the two men with a very satisfied smile. “What do you think?”

“Oh we are doing this again. And again. And again.” Dieter smirks, leaning in to kiss Javi so he can sample the combined taste of you and him from his tongue. “I think this is the start of something beautiful.” Javi responds when Dieter pulls away from the kiss.

****

“Dieter! Dieter! Javier!” The photographers shout as the two men stand side by side and they are called over to where you are being interviewed. “This movie is about love and tragedy and redemption. What would you say your greatest inspiration for this movie was?” The interviewer asks Dieter who chuckles and wraps his arm around your waist.

“Well, I’d say being able to experience love and sex and intimacy with my co-star was a great help. Falling in love with the writer tends to lead to a lot of insight too.” Dieter wraps his other arm around Javi and the photographers go wild.

“Is that- what? Can we-?” The interviewers all scramble to speak to the trio, having heard that Dieter is with both his co-star and the writer.

“Sorry. We have to go watch the masterpiece on screen.” You call out and one interviewer responds,

“Javier, would you say you’re in a relationship with the actors in your movie?” She asks and Javier smiles, “I am. My greatest work yet starring the two people I love most. What more could a man ask for?” Javier responds and the trio make their way into the theater. Writing the romantic script lead to Javier finds his own romance. Something he never imagined would happen, he certainly couldn’t write it.

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