#dieter horn

[gutsby]

Cry, Baby

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Joel fucks you to the point of tears. That’s all.

Warnings: 18+. Dacryphilia (kinda). Unprotected p-in-v. Girthy, unspecified age gap. Daddy kink. Jealous Joel.

Notes: Sorry for using pussy pronouns. It will happen again.

Joel Miller was a man of few words in most every place except the one where he found himself about to beat the brakes off your pussy. Then he never shut the fuck up.

“Uh-huh…just a little more…I know, sweet girl, I know.”

You had your hands at 10 and 2 on the steering wheel of his ‘71 Ford F-100, but rather than driving anywhere, your ass was comfortably parked on the front of his jeans—straddling his lap backwards while you rubbed your half-clad cunt over stonewashed denim. It was hell.

You’d been grinding against the bulge beneath those jeans so hard, and for so long, your white cotton undies had parted to the side, and your pleasure was nearly stretched commensurate with just how pathetic you felt.

Your head dropped between your two hands on the black molded plastic of the wheel, and you let out a whine.

“Joel—”

“Keep goin’.”

“This ain’t fair!”

Without hesitation, the hands that were holding your hips tightened their grip, and now Joel was raking your lower half over his. Rutting your core back and forth.

“You wanna know what ain’t fair?” he seethed.

He didn’t wait for you to answer.

“How much she’s been droolin’ over me all night.”

‘She’ meaning your unfucked cunt, of course.

Joel then punctuated his sentence with a particularly hard press of his palm—forcing you to lay flat on the steering wheel, hips tilted back to him. With just one callused finger of his other hand, he found you soaked between your folds. He dragged it from your clit to your aching hole, and you heard him sigh, as though sad.

“It’s a cryin’ shame,” Joel said. Lamenting.

You were almost lost to the sensation of his finger rubbing you up and down, but somehow, you managed, ‘W-W-What is, Joel?’ in between soft, plaintive sounds.

Sometimes you forgot how much older he was than you. Sometimes you said he was just like the boys your age. Other times he had you pinned like this, breaths calm and cruelly measured while you damn near came apart beneath his hand, and then you remembered everything.

“You just couldn’t wait ‘til we got home,” he grumbled.

Using the same hand he’d been stroking you with, Joel laid a quick slap to your cunt, and you jumped. Your head narrowly missed the roof of his truck; still, you groaned.

“‘M’sorry, Joel,” you keened.

You weren’t. The old man knew you weren’t.

The hand that had been splayed over your back sank in. The force of that push pressed your belly to the chipped Ford logo at the center of the steering wheel, and with the added pressure went the blare of the car’s horn.

The sound might’ve lasted two seconds before you scrambled back, desperate, into Joel’s broad chest. A couple old-timers making their way from the bar to their cars in the parking lot cocked their heads curiously in your direction a couple yards away. Seeing nothing of note, they lost interest just as quick and kept walking.

“Sorry for what?” Joel said.

At the moment, he didn’t seem to notice, or care, that his truck was parked a mere stone’s throw away from the Tipsy Bison, and bar-goers were milling freely between the building and the cars all around you. His belt unbuckled all the same, zip came down in a blink, and his thick, veiny, throbbing, and angry cock came to rest between your cheeks. He started to push you forward.

“Sorry for— for flirtin’ with Tommy,” you stammered, sucking in a breath when you felt him run the head of his cock between your lips. You could hear a soft squelch.

“And Lucien?”

“And Lucien.”

“And—”

“And Dieter, and Frankie, and Javi, and Marcus.”

Rattling off the names of all the men you’d been flirting with at the bar to make Joel jealous and take you back home to fuck you became an embarrassing chant.

“And?”

“…and Mayor Garcia,” you completed, sheepishly.

Back in there, you hadn’t been too proud to stoop to a politician’s level, even. That was how needy you’d been to get attention, and now Joel was giving it to you.

As hard as he could—he didn’t wait for the ‘OK’ before seating you on his cock. You were simply pulled back from the wheel and into his lap, onto his stiff erection, and before you could steady yourself, he started drilling.

“Even through these panties—” Joel tugged at the cream-colored cotton he’d easily slipped past, “—even through that slutty little skirt, I could feel how wet she was.”

Your eyes squeezed shut, and your hands found purchase in the torn-up leather of the seat, fisting strings and patches of fabric in a helpless sort of plea as Joel took over. With the buttons of his dark green flannel searing a stripe down your spine and his grey-speckled chin coming to nudge between your neck and your shoulder as he fucked you, you felt content. Secure.

Spilling more for him, then. Seeping rivers down the length of his shaft as he breached your walls and made you his all over again. And again. Leaving trails of arousal with every thrust, and rolling your head, limply, into his.

“She cryin’ for me?” Joel breathed, “Or somebody else?”

As if on cue, his cock hit the most sensitive ridge inside you, and you felt yourself gush even more. Dripping now.

“You.” Your voice was raw.

“Me?” Joel’s degradingly sweet.

Before you could answer ‘you’ once more, the driver’s door cracked open beside you both. For one panicked, terrifying second, you thought someone from the bar might’ve caught you two—then you were stunned to look over and see it was Joel’s own tough, steel-toed boot that had propped the door open to the cool night air.

The truck was facing the bar’s front door, shielded only by some foliage and a hatchback car about half its size. Other than that, you were exposed to whoever happened to pass by the big, bay window and take a look inside.

Joel felt you tense, and he pressed a kiss to you neck. Then he slid you carefully, almost tenderly, to the left until you were perched over the side of the seat with your legs dangling out of the truck—still filled to the hilt with his cock and pressed tight to the front of his chest.

“Cry a little more,” he urged.

Then, when your pussy gave an involuntary clench and drenched him some more, he slipped a hand around your front and started toying with your clit. Your gaze was wide, almost frightened as you stared ahead at the bar and saw patrons making rounds about the tiny place, fearing one might see you and Joel, but it felt so good. And wrong. And reckless, having this man who was easily decades your senior bouncing you up and down on his cock and letting you soil the front of his Wranglers.

“Pussy’s fuckin’ soakin’ me, pretty girl,” Joel let out a chuckle and gave your shoulder a playful bite when you pulsed around him again, “Squeezin’ me real tight, too.”

It was like your body was beyond your own control. You scarcely even realized your cunt had him gripped with such force, much less made a mess of his old denim. He just held you to him and kept pressing rough, stubbled kisses to your shoulder, reminding you over and over how sweet you were, how well you were taking him, how nice and tight and goddamn pretty that pussy must’ve looked gushing around daddy’s cock—maybe we can fuck in front’a the mirror so we can see it later, huh, baby?

You would’ve said yes to anything he said, you reckoned.

Especially when his arms moved over your front and you felt him grin, and he hugged you while he fucked you—nobody made you feel quite as special while they were splitting you open. Nobody’s balls felt quite as heavy and firm and full while hitting your ass by turns, and certainly no one but Joel could make you cum just as quick when he leaned into your ear and said, ‘Let go for me, darlin’.’

You did, and you felt his warmth follow inside you with the friction of just two more thrusts. Your head fell back on his shoulder, a moan clawed out of your throat, and the warm, euphoric feeling of release washed over your senses in waves, one trembling sensation after the next. Joel’s groans were quick to spill into your own, and, likewise emptying himself, he held your hips to his and made sure every drop stayed right where he wanted it.

His spend was always heavy, but this load felt larger than usual—like he’d been aching to fuck you full of his cum. Just as you both were coming down from your highs, you couldn’t help but key in on that soft, sticky warmth, likely to come oozing as soon as Joel pulled out of you.

In fact, you got to be so focused that you jumped when you felt something press to your cheek a second later.

It took another moment to register it as a kiss from Joel.

Then his tongue, dragging softly up the side of your face.

You started to laugh, about to ask him what the hell he was doing, when you felt a tear slip out of your other eye. With the sudden, sharp influx of pleasure, the moisture had leaked out without you even feeling it. Joel grinned.

He gave your cheek a light squeeze, wiped the other tear with the pad of his thumb, and kissed you again before mumbling in your ear, almost teasing as he said it:

“Crybaby.”

[kedsandtubesocks]

fire starter

Dragon!Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

summary: there’s a creature lurking behind your family’s lake cabin, but what will you do when it decides to start following you around?

written for @quinnnfabrgay-writes & @hauntedhowlett-writes #MONSTERSMASH24 challenge

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, human/monster relationship, magic transformation & magic elements, mention of drug consumption, one brief scare of possible animal attack, smutty thoughts, monster!smut, voyeurism/consensual voyeurism , masturbation (f), scent kink, oral (f receiving), mentions of mating, light size kink, monster!dick humping, no use of y/n, sweet & chaotic!Dieter

word count: 4.5k

a/n: so yeah I can’t believe I wrote this & I’M SO SORRY for posting it on the very last day of the challenge (pls forgive me) but here are are lol omg biggest thank you to @hauntedhowlett & @ahauntedcowboy for letting me scream about this, and to you, if you decide to read this, thank you so much ♡

The cozy cabin would be your home for the next few weeks during your break away from school before the new semester starts. You needed to get away, clear your head. It’s why your mom suggested taking a nice trip away to the family cabin your grandparents owned. Now the solitude, the comfort of the lake and the forest, all of it sounds healing.

Your luggage still sits inside and the place needs to be cleaned up a bit… but you happily stand on the patio looking out to glimmering water. The lake’s reflective dance and the stretching forest off to the side cloaking the cabin in a rustic dream make you exhale comforted.

Until sudden rustling comes off to the side among the bushes. Your eyes flicker, rapidly scanning the area.

“Beware of bears!” Your grandpa had joked on the phone, but he’s right. The wilderness held dangerous creatures.

You just never assumed a mythical beast would be one of them.

A dragon slowly lifts its head up from behind a shrub, and you wonder if you’re imagining things. A piece of you even thinks this is maybe a bad internet trend or prank video you’re caught in.

The dragon is beautiful with sleek horns. The scales shimmer a unique rustic ash color. But now with the hints of sunlight leaking through the trees the color on the scales become almost reflective of a duo chrome peacock green. The unflinching sharp eyes blinking at you are a deep tiger's eye gem brown.

“Don’t scream.” A voice suddenly says and you realize -

It’s the dragon talking.

“Is this a prank?” You blurt out worried about possibly being on a bad TikTok.

“If it is, it would be a really fucking good prank now that I think about it.” The dragon’s mouth barely moves, but you know it’s him speaking.

His voice is clearly human, smooth and aware.

“That’s a good animatronic then.” You nervously comment.

“I’m not an animatronic!” The dragon huffs even flaring his eyes upset. “I’m a real man! Or… dragon fuck. This is confusing.”

Slowly, you walk cautiously and backwards back to the cabin door.

“No wait!” The dragon rushes out of the bushes and the rest of his body follows revealing an intimidating creature, including a tail flickering nervously.

It seems real, doesn’t seem like a puppet, and you think something that moves this fluid can’t possibly be some robot left in the woods.

“I’m Dieter fucking Bravo. You gotta help me!” His voice becomes panicked, louder, scaring you.

You scramble back into the cabin, slam the door and try settling down. Because there possibly might be a real dragon outside your door.

After that you stay locked inside the cabin, almost afraid to move.

You swear soft whines come from outside the window, but you refuse to check and possibly find monster eyes gleaming out from the woods.

Once you’re calmed, you remember what the creature said.

The dragon yelled that he was Dieter Bravo. And the name sounds vaguely familiar.

So grabbing your phone, you start googling.

The news rushes in, bombarding you.

Oscar Winner Dieter Bravo Still Missing

You click the first article.

“Dieter Bravo is an eccentric man to say the least. But after two months with no communication to even his agents, people are now starting to get worried…”

No fucking way.

The more you deep dive, the more you become entangled in this web of the missing actor.

There’s even conspiracy theories arguing he was abducted by aliens.

“No guys he’s just filming that new marvel movie remember” someone comments on the YouTube video you watch.

That creature said he was Dieter Bravo. You can’t wrap your mind around the possibility the beast is the same man.

So the next morning, when the sun barely peeks through the clouds, you step outside. You glance around finding no sign of the dragon.

Even getting braver you walk off the patio and check around the cabin.

“Can I have some of whatever you cooked yesterday cause it smelled fucking amazing.”

You almost scream hearing the sudden inquisitive and smooth voice. The dragon’s snout peeks out from behind a thicket of trees, and sharp inquisitive eyes intently stare you down.

“You said you’re Dieter Bravo.” You demand surprisingly firm.

“It’s ‘cause I am!” He urges franticly, now whipping his full head up to stare at you. It’s a mind melt having a full on discussion with a dragon.

“What if you just ate him?” You narrow your eyes, still not convinced.

The dragon shrieks insulted and raises its head up more.

“I didn’t! Unless you count the times I bite my lip and swallow the dead skin or whatever!”

Soon the dragon starts listing off facts like Dieter’s birthday, the secret tattoo he has on his ass, he even says who his agent’s name is. It’s all rather convincing.

“Look,” he sighs, annoyed and lowers his head. “I was staying at one of the luxury cabins way the fuck past the hiking trails and wandered away… then I found some magic looking mushrooms by a tree and-”

“You ate unknown mushrooms from the forest?!” You interject sharp.

“They looked really good!” He whines. “And how was I to know they were actually real fucking magic mushrooms that would turn me into this?!” The dragon whips its scaled tail around to emphasize his point.

You almost get knocked off your feet.

So this dragon really is actor Dieter Bravo.

“How have you stayed hidden this long?” You ask stunned.

“Cause I’m a pro champion winner of hide and seek, duh.” He scoffs proud. “Plus there’s an abandoned bear cave I’ve started renting, and nobody has been out here for weeks.”

“That is until you showed up.” The dragon nudges towards you.

“So can you help me!? Please?” He quickly whimpers, staring up at you like a cat trying to plead for treats.

“How am I supposed to help you?!” You fire back confused.

“I don’t fucking know! But you’re the first person I’ve actually talked to in two months, and I just can’t think straight anymore!” He sobs dramatically, flinging his body onto the dirt forest floor now almost mimicking a toddler throwing a small tantrum.

“Listen, I almost had to eat a fucking possum you gotta help me!” Dieter continues to wail, and you shush him from drawing attention.

“Fine! I’ll try to help!” You agree hastily.

Before you can say anything, the dragon, no - Dieter, rushes forward and you almost scream.

He’s around the size of a large truck. Seeing such a large creature, a deadly one at that, rushing towards you activates a primordial fear.

Until his large face presses against your stomach.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” He cries excessively.

“I’ll give you whatever you want! Take you to Oscar parties! Do you wanna meet like, fucking Hugh Jackman or someone else I think I can make that happen?!” His joy and relief are tangible in his rambling.

You laugh nervously, but feel more at ease.

And so a dragon follows you home.

He waits outside the cabin because he is too big to fully fit inside. But Dieter stays surprisingly close, even presses his nose against the window as if he’s a sad stray wanting to be let in.

Now you enjoy meals outside with him most days.

“So what brings a hottie like yourself to a creepy cabin in the woods?” He asks when you sit outside with him and almost choke on an inhale.

However, you do explain how this place is your grandparents and you’re simply staying here on a small break.

“Ah, a mini mental health retreat,” he says sagely, nodding his dragon head. “I dig it.”

That makes you grin.

A sort of ridiculousness bubbles in you whenever you google and search up websites about breaking spells or curses. But you have to believe a remedy, or something like it, exists especially when tangible magic now sits curled right beside you. Dieter’s head rests against your thigh while he breathes in and out with a steady rumble. The soft sunlight allows the delicate shimmer of his scales to dance beautifully.

You glance down to the dragon sleeping peacefully.

Dieter grew close to you instantly. You also hate to admit how fast you’ve bonded to him. He’s wildly easy to talk to and pretty funny. When you take walks by the lake he trots right besides you, not even bothered about being seen.

“If I wasn’t so worried about the government or aliens shooting me down or carrying me off to some sketchy ass lab, I’d take us flying.” Dieter comments one evening when you decide to simply enjoy the cool evening and shimmering stars above.

To prove a point, the dragon spreads open his wings to stretch them. They’re glorious, bat-like in their structure and towering over you in a mythical shade. You feel so small compared to him, but in a way that comforts you, almost like standing against the grandeur of many redwood trees.

“Honestly I don’t think you’d be that good a pilot anyway even as a dragon.” You tease.

He scoffs horrified. “Excuse me! I played a pilot in a Grey’s Anatomy episode. So I know how flying fucking works!”

You burst out laughing, buoyant.

You begin wondering if maybe Dieter imprinted on you, but realization creeps in that you’ve maybe done the same to him.

On warmer days when you want to enjoy the lake, you wait until the dragon wakes so you both can enjoy the water.

You jokingly tell him he looks like the lochness monster as he swims.

“Nessie’s got nothing on me.” Dieter huffs.

Then, he playfully swishes his tail in the water, creating a large wave that hits you with a cold splash. Immediately you childishly kick splash back at him.

The dragon snickers so human, and your heart jumps.

It’s getting harder to ignore the blooming affection growing more for him.

Dieter sleeps besides the cabin now, specifically your bedroom window. Because of that you try keeping sounds low due to his incredible hearing.

Mainly because you’ve been looking up videos of him, anything from his interviews, to compilations of his movie roles.

One scene of him in a ‘so bad it’s good’ 2000’s rom com has been replaying in your head for days. The way Dieter greedily grasps his love interest's cheeks, how he kisses deeply possessive and consuming like a raging storm -

You wonder if he always kisses like that.

He’s ridiculously handsome. Both as a human and… even as a dragon.

But you stomp those thoughts away. Dragon or not, he’s a celebrity, an actual actor who has been linked to other famous people.

He possibly wouldn’t even look your way.

“Hey,” Dieter perks up and moves to rest his large head across your tummy while you lounge in the hammock by the lake.

You halfway lie saying you’re just tired. Then a sudden fanged sense of curiosity possesses your fingers, and they move before you can stop. You trace along his sharp bone like horns then down to the scales of his face. They’re cool and sturdy to the touch.

Dieter closes his eyes, relaxing more against you.

He’s settled down more, mellowing out into a zen peaceful version of himself that isn’t pestering you about ideas on how to break the magic placed on him. You even feel more relaxed, especially with him here.

When you first decided on this small break, you were slightly worried about being alone for this long. Instead, like something out of a strange fairy tale, you now can't imagine being here without this strange creature.

Slowly, then all at once, Dieter becomes clingy.

Rapid in his curious questions, he’s annoying and ridiculous at times but still incredibly endearing to talk to. As twilight approaches in soft glory, the dragon shifts to curl around you, a scaled mythical barricade that refuses to let you leave.

“No…don’t go back in. Stay here with me.” He purrs. “It’ll be like a fun camping trip.”

You snicker, even though your heart races at his plea.

“Maybe next time.” You suggest, and Dieter pouts huffing out a puff of smoke in protest.

In the shower your mind wanders to some cheesy romance books your best friend once showed you.

One was about a witch who fell in love with an enemy dragon cursed to destroy her. That story had you in a chokehold. Especially the scene where the witch got affected by a spell that backfired. It made her aroused and the only way to dispel the effects was through sex. And of course her dragon enemy was the only one present who could help the witch.

An image flickers in your mind repeatedly of Dieter with his shimmering gemstone eyes and you clutching onto his horns as he -

Soon enough your back hits the shower wall and your fingers drift down as your eyes flutter shut, allowing yourself to sink into that fantasy.

You try to keep your whimpers quiet, but a part of you… wants Dieter hear.

Your fingers curl and move, drawing out your arousal.

But then you hear it - a rumbled groan.

An embarrassed heat knocks into you.

That’s when you remember you left the window to the bathroom open. You’re about to apologize until Dieter speaks first.

He growls out your name, a whimper over the rush of the shower water.

“Oh, I can smell you.” His words slice through you and unleash a damn.

Your heart races, and your mind shuts down.

“More, gimme more please.” Dieter urges and your fingers pick up a frantic pace.

“Dieter.” You croak out his name.

“Fuck yeah.” The dragon pants, and you swear the walls shake a bit as if he’s trying to press past them, maybe even burst through to you.

“Shit baby, wanna eat you up so fucking bad.” Dieter slurs and knocks your climax out of your chest. You come fast.

“Fuck.” He now whines impatiently. “Want you more. Wish I could do more.”

You exhale trying to steady your breathing and also feel a tug of sympathy for him. You stay quiet, don’t know what else to do.

But after slipping into your pajamas, you notice Dieter has gone dangerously quiet.

So gathering up a bunch of blankets and pillows, you head outside deciding maybe to actually camp out with him.

Yet, in the stretching darkness, Dieter is nowhere to be found. Your heart breaks a bit.

The next morning Dieter is still missing.

You head to the small grocery supply store to grab a few items. The television talks about a storm approaching and you wonder if that’s why he left.

You spot a reasonably priced extra large tent, almost a canopy, that you maybe could use to keep Dieter safe and dry besides the cabin.

You hope he returns soon. As you struggle to try putting the tent together, the thunder rumbles in the distance.

Twigs snap and footsteps approach the path around the cabin. Slightly panicked, you start glancing out into the woods.

A part of you now hopes it's a dragon.

Unfortunately a mountain lion instead stares at you from among the tree line.

Your heart drops.

The large hunter stays still and so do you.

With your heart racing you slowly back away hoping to head back into the cabin.

But the large cat prowls forward out of the trees, a slow stalk.

Terror crawls all over your body.

A sinister rumble floats out into the air, and you think it’s the thunder getting worse.

That rumbling you mistook as thunder instead clearly floats into a terrifying growl.

You have to think it’s the mountain lion about to pounce any second.

Suddenly Dieter flies out of the trees. His maw is open wide, filled with shark sized sharp teeth. The beast lands before the prowler, a monster from a hellish nightmare.

The mountain lion bares its fangs, hissing loud and tries to swat its paw at Dieter. But the dragon remains unbothered and instead snapping his jaw shut towards the cougar almost trying to chomp at it.

It’s enough to frighten the large mountain cat, and it retreats away fast.

Dieter continues growling. His eyes are dangerous slits, a crystalized predator. You can’t move, too stunned to even think. But then your dragon blinks, coming back to his senses and rushes towards you.

He says your name worried as his face rubs all over you.

“Tell me you’re alright?! That stupid cat almost tried to attack you! I was so fucking close to biting his head off or shit charbroiling it-”

You reassure Dieter you’re alright, even wrap your arms around him best as you can.

You’ve never held him like this. His warmth in your embrace reminds you of a burning heartbeat, the thump of a flame too powerful to extinguish.

“Where were you? Where have you been?” You ask weakly.

“Didn’t wanna hurt you last night.” Dieter admits. “My mind…this dang freaky monster mind of mine kept telling me to do… things.”

You cautiously ask what.

He buries his large snout against you.

“Like fucking mate you.” He mutters, and your legs almost give out.

“Oh.” Dieter says and inhales deep. “Oh, damn… you like that huh?”

He can smell you, caught your wave of arousal already making you wet.

Soon enough he moves down, and you try to shoo him away until he presses his nostrils straight between your legs and inhales. You slap your hand over your mouth to stop the whimper that almost leaves you.

“I’m drooling.” Dieter slurs and even allows his mouth to stay open panting, a monster in heat. “God, you smell even better than last night.”

“Dieter.” You whisper.

“Please baby, please.” He pleads now gently nipping at your clothes with his sharp teeth.

“Don’t… I don’t want you doing this just because of your dragon brain taking over.” You fidget hearing your true feelings bubble out.

“No, I’m not! Promise.” Dieter says truthfully.

He even shifts his draconian face to place kisses against your thighs. “Would want you even as a man. Fuck it even got me messed up thinking how frustrated I was I couldn’t do shit with you as a man…”

“But now...” he drags his scaled nose up your legs, and your eyes close. “Kinda wanna enjoy being a dragon with you.”

“Wait…With me?” You asks a bit hesitant.

“Uh yeah.” He snorts. “Only you…Cause I trust you baby.”

Opening your eyes, your gaze meets Dieter’s peering up at you. A monster of devastating destruction and terror you just saw now at your knees so large, powerful, and beautiful.

Your hand caresses his face, and he closes his gem eyes.

You lie down within the half made tent. However, it creates a wonderful cave-like cover for you to slide into.

“What the crap is this?” Dieter nudges into the tarp as he wiggles as much as he can into the covering.

“Rain is coming, wanted to get something to keep you dry, you dick.” You playfully reply.

Dieter’s dragon eyes soften, pupils expanding like a cat’s, and he moves to nuzzle your neck. You lean back against him and exhale against his cool scales.

Then he descends, a beast ready to consume.

You think of the monster books your best friend lent you.

Now you can say it doesn’t do the truth justice.

After you slide off your shorts and underwear Dieter’s tongue, thin and slippery, long and precise with its movements, licks across your bare thighs. It traces against your skin leaving you wiggling wanting more.

Then he dives into you. His tongue slithers around your clit then wiggles into you, and your body snaps up galvanized by this unbelievable pleasure.

“Damn baby, this is incredible.” Dieter slurs drunk. “You’re incredible.”

You get it. It feels like your body is going to melt off your bones. Then his sharp dragon teeth very gently nip at your thigh, and your mind blanks.

When your climax hits he greedily slurps it up. You whine a bit overstimulate when he continues lapping at you.

“Mate,” he mutters. “Wanna mate you so bad.”

You softly coo at him, running your hand against his horn.

This idea has been infesting your mind for weeks. Now it’s here.

“Turn on your back for me.” You softly tell Dieter who effortlessly moves, doing as he’s told. Now he’s the one lying down covered by the half canopy.

On his back you’re smitten by the sight of his soft colored underbelly.

Then his monstrous large cock makes your mouth water and body shiver. You knew it would. But now you realize there’s no way his very rigged and large cock could fit inside you.

“Don’t even know if I can fit.” Dieter whimpers. Pre-cum starts pebbling, leaking, at the head of his cock and you already ache to taste.

“Shh…” you comfort him again, kissing the scales along his belly.

“I have an idea.” You whisper low.

Even with your weak and slightly shaky legs you manage to climb on top of him.

Then you settle down, resting on him. Both you and Dieter instantly moan.

“Fuck, already feel you. You’re so warm.” he sobs.

“You too.” You hiccup. His cock is heated, throbbing against you.

Then you grind your hips, dragging your pussy down against him, and it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before.

Dieter’s growls shatters the air, and you try to soothe him, settle his noises. But it’s hard, even for you. The more you grind and hump against him, you can’t even silence yourself. His rigged cock feels divine rubbing against you. Soon enough it’s simply you and him melting into each other.

You grind and grin, speeding up your hips. You’re lost in the pleasure, lost in the molten fire scorching your skin that before you know it, you come and pleasure crashes into you a consuming wave. Dieter moans, a half mixed noise so human yet monstrous.

“I’m… I’m gonna-” He growls, unable to even speak.

“Give it to me, please.” You beg.

When he comes it’s hot, sticky and there’s so much. But you feel beautifully dizzy and drunk, especially as his cum pools against your thighs sticking to your skin. It’s dirty, raw, but incredible.

Especially as Dieter shifts to now have you lying below him and his wings open up to create their own canopy against you, shielding you from the world.

After cleaning him and yourself up with your discarded shorts, your dragon curls against you

“Holy shit balls,” Dieter exhales with his warm breath that tickles. “That was the hottest kinkiest sex I’ve ever had. Didn’t think you’d have it in you. When can we do it again?”

You playfully swat at him.

“Hey, it’s all a compliment! I’m saying it was hot as fuck!” He argues and you snicker, but now in Dieter’s warmth exhaustion creeps in cozy and effortless.

The thunder rumbling becomes a soft lullaby mixing in with the content purr thundering from your dragon.

You turn and rest your face against the side of Dieter’s massive muzzle. Placing a soft kiss against his scales, you let your eyes close.

You rest safe with your dragon’s keep.

Soft raindrops falling against your legs waking you up wearily. You’re thankful at least half the tent keeps you covered as the rain pours down.

But you now notice you’re missing one dragon.

Instead the most handsome man you’ve ever seen sleeps besides you, curled against your shoulder while he snores.

Dieter’s utterly gorgeous. Peacefully resting, mouth slightly open, you ache to trace his sharp nose. His fluffy hair looks like an adorable bird's nest. You’re so in awe of this unreal man it takes you a moment to realize he’s a dragon no more.

You yelp surprised and bolt up from him.

“Wha? Whazzit?” Dieter wearily asks waking up.

“Dieter, Dieter wake up.” You urge, and he yawns as he stretches.

“Ready to go for another round huh, honey cakes?” He smirks sleepy but coy at you.

Then his eyes go wide as he realizes it too.

He shrieks, scrambling to sit up.

His hands press against his body and even glances down between his legs.

“Phew! Had to check my dick just to make sure, but we’re good.”

You roll your eyes until his wide beautiful earthen ones turn to you.

“I’m a real boy again!” He cries then gathers you into his arms squeezing you tight.

“Sex broke the spell!” Dieter declares, and you excitedly laugh rubbing his gorgeous back.

“You broke my spell.” He softer says, rubbing his nose into the top of your head.

“I don't know if it was me…but glad I could help.” You hug him back.

“Okay, as fuckin’ cool as it was being a dragon, and yes I’m already messing my dragon dick, I didn’t realize how much I missed being human. Like… I’ve just been wanting to hold you.”

His words are ridiculous, perfectly Dieter all while being endearing. You snort, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

Rain pours down harder, slipping into the collapsing tent. Laughing and getting soaked in the downpour, you finally let Dieter inside the cabin. He of course happily follows you eagerly.

A knock at the door wakes you the next morning, breaking your soft spell among the blanket’s warmth and Dieter arms.

A park ranger and police officer stand on the other side of the door.

“Sorry to bother you this morning,” the park ranger sounds sincere and apologetic. Then he gives a look to the officer.

“But uh… have you… seen any weird suspicious activity around these parts?”

You’re a bit confused, and the officers must see that in your face.

The cop sighs. “A man came in yesterday screaming that he saw a dragon fly over while he was on the hiking trail nearby.”

A bark of a laugh escapes you, and you apologize for the outburst.

“No, it’s alright. It is kinda ridiculous to think about.” The park ranger warmly reassures you.

“No officers I’m sorry I haven’t seen anything of the sorts.” You relay to them.

“The only bad dragon around these parts is me.”

You sigh already tempted to shove Dieter away. In your soft robe he slinks his arms across your shoulder with a sleepy yawn.

The police officer and park ranger now stare like gaping open mouth fishes seeing the missing actor.

“You’re…you’re…-”

“Yeah, yeah I know who I am.” Dieter interjects, waving his hand casually. “And I’m not missing. Nor did the aliens take me as much as I hoped they would.”

He moves to curl against you more. “Just been here with my hot new girlfriend that’s all.”

The title sets your heart on fire. The officers wish you a good day. The park ranger even asks for an autograph from Dieter, which he of course gives.

“Now, if you excuse me, I gotta show my baby the real dragon here in the woods.” Dieter says without shame even winks and you shriek embarrassed, apologizing profusely.

You chide Dieter smacking his chest as he snickers proud.

“Come on,” he urges, nibbling at your cheeks. “Let me show my mate how badly I need her.”

You can’t argue with that.

Later that night falling asleep again in his arms you notice the same dragon rumble still deep in Dieter’s chest, a blissful rumbling purr.

[wildemaven]

hi bby ✨ I’m hoping to spread a little love around today (it is someone’s birthday after all — so you might see others answering this)!

I am a big fan of people enjoying cake and celebrating, and sometimes cake can be just tooting your own horn 💁‍♀️ so with that in mind, I’d love to know what THREE pieces of work you’re super proud of that you’d recommend others reading, and why 🍰

Hi Jo! This is such a fun idea!!! And I know you said tooting your own horn, but I decided to share the cake and toot others horns instead.

🍰 Conversations with a Movie Star @gnpwdrnwhiskey - Ava and Dieter are my favorite. Both of them finding something in each other they didn’t really know they were missing. Plus, Ava and Dieter’s banter is top notch too.

🍰 Sequins @trulybetty - I love a fic with a good plot twist and this one does just that! Especially with a hand from handsome Joel 😉

🍰 Worth the Wait @kteague - This series gives me butterflies whenever I read it. Javier and Diosa make me weak🔥

Bonus:

🍰 Anytime @undercoverpena - I love that this was born from a silly little moodboard I made. Soft Javi always has my heart

[nerdieforpedro]

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

Volume 2

Fanfics that I am currently reading or re-read because they’re that good!! 😊

This list is for those aged 18 and up, please respect the author's tags, warnings and notes as they are there for a reason.

Crawling Back to You Author: @prolix-yuy

(Dieter Bravo x female reader) There’s a secret that Hollywood has been keeping from us that explains so much. Found out I find horns sexy.

This Charming Man

Author: @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

(Frankie Morales x OFC Camilla) No one said Frankie had to be good all the time. To be fair, he's had some major life events. He's unhinged but also sweet. He's got layers. Some of the layers are concerning. Make sure to check the warnings before reading. Dark fluff!

Dr. WeVibe; or How Dieter Bravo Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Remote Vibrator

Author: @imalrightllama (Dieter Bravo x female reader {established relationship}, Dieter Bravo x female reader x male soft Dom, Dieter Bravo x male soft Dom) This is smut. It has evolved into ultra smut and eventually reaches super ultra smut. There's also toy use. You have to read it to understand.

Opia Author: @artemiseamoon

(Ezra x black female reader) A woman's journey for a payday leads her to meet Ezra under less than ideal circumstances. The bond they form is life-long.

Kinktober 2023 Author: @palioom

Thirty one days of October - thirty one different fics each with their own theme to sink your eyeballs into. Make sure to double check warnings.

going slow Author: @ezrasbirdie

(Javier Peña x female reader) An issue that no one really speaks about but can make sexual intimacy extremely difficult. Thankfully, Javier Peña is a sweetheart and willing to take it at the reader's pace.

anytime Author: @undercoverpena

(Javier Peña x female reader) Reader and Javier have been friends for years. Seen each other through the best and worst of times. Javier's mind is rattled and there always seems to be one thing or person rather that settles him.

I like the way you Author: @undercoverpena

(Frankie Morales x female reader) Reader is friends with Frankie. An offhand remark leads a becoming friends with benefits. What could go wrong? Feelings? No one agreed to that.

When the west was wild Author: @boliv-jenta

(Silva x OFC) Nine part story about a woman living alone in the west. An injured strange changes her life, for better, for worse? Read and find out.

Be all and Endor Jyr’ika Author: @djarins-cyare

(Din Darin x OFC) An epic love story told over 40 chapters. Use the bathroom, get a blanket and get comfy, there's reading to be done.

Darkness Author: @ezrasbirdie

(Ezra x female reader) We all know Ezra has explored many ways, things and positions. One that he has not explored is our reader. He's a bit scuzzy, but a gentleman - mostly. You gotta invite him in, give him the ok.

Moonlit Serenades Author: @geminimoonbeamx

(Poe Dameron x plus size female reader) Poe needs some comfort after a tough mission that only the reader can provide.

Headshots Author: @secretelephanttattoo

(Marcus Pike x OFC Ella) Turns out reader's new job as a photographer for the FBI changes her path in life forever. The job was temporary but the relationship was for life.

The Gift Author: @mandoisapunk

(Javier Peña x female reader) Sweet Javier Peña fluff. Reader's gift to Javi is life changing. I'm not crying, you are!

An American in Paris Author: @absurdthirst

(Ezra x female reader) If you ever wondered what Ezra would be doing in the late 1940's after WWII. Our man went to Paris where he meets the reader. This pic had me at Ezra in Paris and then held on to me tight and tossed my feelings around like a rag doll.

To hold you tonight Author: @iamasaddie

(Marcus Pike x female reader) Dark! Marcus has a very dark spin in this one shot. He also has a love a statues that extends to the reader. Please read the warnings before reading.

Full of colors. Author: @trulybetty

(Tim Rockford x female reader) Tim’s working a difficult case, you’ve got work piled on the table. Quality time is needed. A walk-in shower is a treat.

Dry Run Author: @chronically-ghosted

(Javier Peña x female reader) Anyone who may have questioned if dancing with THE Javier Peña in a club was sexy or not - your answer is here.

Tired Author: @javierpena-inatacvest

(Javier Peña x female reader) It’s date night for you and your husband Javier Peña. Everything that could have gone wrong, has. You are stressed out. Date night was not what you’d planned at all.

Diosa Hermosa Author: @fhatbhabie

(Javier Peña x plus size female reader) Javier finds the reader to be the sexiest vision he could see in the museum.

Preciously Plump Author: @melodygatesauthor

(Santiago Garcia x plus size female reader) Our reader is a bit self-conscious, Santiago has her get over that quickly.

Dirty Secrets Author: @absurdthirst

(Dave York x female reader) Your husband Dave is suspicious about your change in behavior. He endeavors to find out the reason why.

[oogaboogasphincter]

After the Beep | Dieter Bravo x afab!reader

gif by @joelmjller

In your absence after last night’s rendezvous, Dieter has some fun with dirty voicemails.

word count/rating/warnings - 2800+ // swearing, recreational drug use (weed, reader and dieter both use), alcohol (only dieter) EXPLICIT 18+ ONLY: masturbation (m), anal play/fingering (m receiving), edging/orgasm denial (m), descriptions of oral (m and f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (use protection irl obvi), anal sex (f receiving), mentions of strap-ons and gaping (?:!/!:), idiots in love sorta

a/n - this is such a strange fic? idk if i like the style i went with (not my usual)?? there are so many things in here that are just not me lol but i wrote about it anyways??? i hope you enjoy! <3

A hungover Dieter jolts awake when a strong, cold breeze whips through the open patio doors, skimming across his uncovered ass and raising goosebumps in its wake. He grumbles, blearily reaching for his sunglasses and jamming them on his face crooked before reluctantly slumping out from the sheets. As he goes to shut the offending doors, he pauses a moment and remembers that he's forgotten where he is. The absence of car horns, construction ambience and groans from other waking bodies staggers him further into disorientation. He squints out at the pristine backyard that greets him - exotic foliage manicured to the nth degree, a crisp swimming pool gleaming fierce in the morning sun, and not another soul in sight.

Ah, yes, he's at his actor friend's "getaway" house while he's in town for... what was it? Not an interview (it'll be a while before the next one since he botched the last so bad), not a movie (at least hopefully not, any and all scripts have been completely obliterated from his mind for the time being), what was it...

He closes the glass doors and absentmindedly scratches his stubbly balls, still staring out at the calm, confined water even though his pupils are hurting. The softness of his t-shirt against his fidgeting forearm surprises his delayed senses, as he doesn't remember putting it on when he went to sleep...

And suddenly all his questions are answered.

You.

He's in town because he wanted to see you. Dieter's not one for committal, romantic feelings, but his honesty wins over his ego when he admits that he needed to see you. Although you began simply as his favorite bootycall of this specific city, he grew fonder of you than he ever has for anyone else he has a similar exchange with. No matter the carnal options, no matter the city or time, he found himself requesting you over and over again. Whenever he tried to quench his thirst with another body, another substance, another side job, he was left parched and belittled.

You make him feel free. Not only because you aren't in the public eye (although that does help ease his paranoia when he's on a downward spiral), but because of the way you give him the space to be himself. He doesn't have to put on a performance for you, nor is he prohibited from expressing his innermost desires. He never once felt in your presence that he had to think too much about or hide what he was doing. You'll be there to listen, always, like he is for you. You tried to explain to him once that it was the least you could do, but common courtesy and decency doesn't extend far or hold very much genuine meaning in his industry, so it confuses him. You intrigue him; the way your mind works, he wants to translate your brainwaves to puzzle pieces and figure out how to put you together over and over again.

On a less heartfelt note, in combination with all of this - he's had some of the best orgasms of his life when he's with you. Maybe the trust correlates with lowered inhibitions, but your talents alone speak for themselves.

He grins to himself, eyeing the only article of clothing he's wearing: his shirt that you had fallen asleep in last night.

Minutes after he called you and told you he was in town, you were rapping on this unknown front door and pouncing on your tipsy lover. Winding your arms tight around his broad shoulders to bring him down to your height, wasting no time licking into his mouth, and hiking your leg up over his hip, almost tumbling the two of you over, he picked you up and took you straight to the bedroom. Hours upon hours passed, and you finally gave your sweaty skin a break by slipping on his worn shirt, relishing in the cool yet thin barrier it posed between your heaving chests.

Unfortunately, to Dieter's whiney dismay, you couldn't call off work the next day. You stretched away from his slack body with a teasing groan while it was still dark in the morning, giving him a show of taking off his shirt and throwing it at his face in retaliation to his smack on your ass. You thought he had fallen asleep before you left, but he dismally watched you leave, his heart bursting as you tried to keep quiet for him, and pulled the shirt on inside-out for your lingering smell and warmth to lull him back to sleep.

Before his brain can recall the explicit details of your rapturous night together, his cock is standing at attention. He was half-hard when he woke up, but now the veins that run alongside his length are rigid and his tip is a warm red, bobbing in the air. You were so ravenous for Dieter last night, and his energy sluggish thanks to a couple of drinks, that you had taken the reins and snatched every moan, groan and whimper you wanted from him.

Both being switches - and the previous rendezvous you had being him pinning you against the bathroom sink at his favorite restaurant, yanking your hair and making you stare back at yourself in the mirror, crumpling in his arms as you took his relentless pounding - it was a nice change-up.

But Dieter hates repetition.

Now all hot and bothered by racy thoughts of you, he swings the patio doors back open and plops down on the bed, resting his aching back against the headboard (he came to reason it wasn't just his aging muscles, you really had ridden him to oblivion.)

He artfully runs both hands over his naked groin, fingertips skating up his shaft and encircling the head in a tight ring, pulsing his frenulum once, twice, then releasing with a pent-up groan. He bobs himself a couple times, chuckling at his own absurdity. With the house all to himself, nowhere to be, nothing worthwhile to do until you get off of work, he chucks his sunglasses onto the sheets beside him. Oh, he's going to have some fun this morning.

It might be technically closer to afternoon, it's hard to tell in this city that always suns, but he doesn't care. He does care to take advantage of the circulating breeze pouring from outside into the room, and before settling deeper into the bed to begin his session, he leans over to the nightstand and grabs a joint.

Thank you, earlier Dieter, he congratulates on the first inhale, glad that he busied his depressed self after you left this morning with rolling more than what was necessary. He pauses to spit into his dominant hand, slicking up his cock from base to tip, and starts moseying to his peak. With a loose fist gliding up and down his shaft, he smokes for a bit and waits for the high to fully infiltrate his systems. He prefers being sober or only slightly influenced when he's with you; he wants to experience you unabashed, and you entrance him so much you're in a classification all of your own. But he needs to quell his sadness over your absence or else he won't reap the fruits of his own taxing labor.

The last tendrils of smoke are swept out of the room on his final exhale and with his increased relaxation comes down the barrier to his creativity. He locates his phone (hidden under a pile of Kit Kat wrappers that you nagged him to throw away) and calls you, the weed muddying his memory that you're on-call elsewhere. The robotic audio of the default voicemail message makes him grunt, but when the recording begins, his imagination sparks.

"Hey baby," a salacious grin works its way across his face, "I was just jerking my schlong, thinking about you and your pretty eyes, your gorgeous tits, that evil little smile..."

Your mischievous giggles ring in his ears, his strokes picking up speed. His tongue darts out to catch the drop of spit that has worked its way onto his parted lips, a flash of embarrassment running through him even though you can't see him (and would take utter delight in the fact that you literally make him drool),

"A-and, uh," he splutters before snapping back to his controlled, teasing tone, "and how much you wrecked me last night. I'm forever grateful, honey bun, you know that - but it hurt when you left this morning."

He mock-pouts, "You broke poor old Dieter's heart. I-I think you're gonna have to make it up to me."

His tone takes an abrupt, dominating turn. He growls into the receiver, "And I think I know exactly what I want you to do."

An image floats up through the haze in his mind: the underside of your soft belly, breasts and that conniving smile he mentioned baring itself in the moonlight. From last night - you rid his face until you thoroughly soaked him, that patchy scruff that's dappled along his strong jaw drenched in your arousal. He smirks, thinking of how you have ten hidden bruises dotted across your ass from his fingertips digging into your flesh to grind you down harder against his rabid tongue. Your overstimulated shriek of his name echoes in his head as he devises his plan for you.

"First, I want to fuck that narrow throat of yours," his hand on his cock shifts to grip the top third, his thumb rubbing over his head. He groans into the phone, knowing it'll stoke your voice kink.

"It's only fair since you fucked my mouth so good, I get to fuck yours."

He smears leaking precum around his head, adding more pulsing pressure to his motions, "I'm going to shove my cock down your throat, fuck you until I make you gag."

He imagines the wet, firm but giving sensation he's simulating with his hand to be the back of your throat, pushing up against its velvety smoothness again and again until you tense around his length, only tightening your oral grasp, swallowing around him and sucking him back further.

"And you're going to be a good girl for me and take it. Every last inch I feed you."

The daydreams are so vivid - his thick fingers gripping your hair, his hairy mound tickling the tip of your nose as his hips rock back and forth, your chin dripping with just as much wetness as his was...

He lets go of his cock entirely, edging himself. He can't cum this early - the fun has only just begun.

Dieter glances at his phone nestled in the sheets, and thankfully so, because he's reached the voicemail time limit. The line disconnects, but he dials you back in a flash, eager to tell you more of his dirty story. He rolls his eyes through the default message, although he's grateful you're still busy and didn't pick up, because this would've been a little awkward to interrupt him mid-smut. He continues his naughty monologue.

"You're already so good to me, Bunnicula, you really are," his words are gravelly and elongated with lust as he stretches his dick, admiring its robustness (don't mention the ridiculous nickname he has for you, it stems from your feral desires to fuck each other like rabbits and your penchants for biting.)

"You drive me fucking bonkers when you lick my asshole," one hand stays wrapped around his girth while the other travels down to his scrotum, inching past the sack and reaching his taint as he adjusts his position to something more... accessible. He massages the patch of skin with trembling touches, mimicking how you tease him. Because you don't just dive right in, no, you get your man crying for more.

Just like your tongue's path, he circles around his hole, dropping his head back into the pillows with a moan. The veins in his neck protrude and surge with restraint, the palm on his cock revving from its idle and jerking quickly from base to tip.

"The way you wiggle your tongue in there- goddamnit, baby," he chokes out, pressing the tip of his index into his ass, working it in a slow but strenuous orbit to open himself up. His jerking eases considerably, edging himself again. Against his back's wishes he leans over and spits heaping onto the area of interest, his body too fixated on throes to stop his ministrations and find the bottle of lube. Besides, he's never been afraid to lean masochist.

"I'm gonna give you the same treatment, open you up, nice and slow... because you're gonna fit my whole cock in your asshole," a fresh rivulet of precum leaks and spirals down his painfully erect length with his wriggling finger swallowed up to the knuckle. He bites down on his plush lip, that broad ribcage reverberating with hums of ecstasy. He focuses on the stretch of his own opening and fantasizes about how much more you'll have to take.

"If I can take your strap, bunny, you can take me. It'll feel so good, I'm going to fuck your tight, little hole until you're begging me to never stop."

He lays on the mock charm thick, "But bad girls who abandon their lovers in the morning for work don't get what they want: I'm gonna pull out, and you're gonna gape for me."

Another end of voicemail, another staved-off orgasm. Dieter lets go of his cock like it's on fire and slides his finger out of his ass, grateful the line is dead and you don't hear his pitiful whine of loss opposite his despotic words.

He breaks for a moment of reprieve before he starts teasing himself again, his resolve floundering at meek levels. All of this teetering on the cliff has quashed his energy - he's stumbling in smoke for a climactic finale to his lewd tale. His power to dominate is dwindling, the relaxing chemicals floating in his bloodstream luring him to last night, to let you take over and him sit (more like lay down and gawk) to watch your magic unfold.

He calls you a third and final time, already stroking his twitching shaft at a determined pace.

"I can't do all the work though, baby - I want you to ride me to your heart's content, just like you did last night. Mount me," his eyes close, fighting the urge to roll back and succumb to to his orgasm. Just a few more words, Dieter, and you can finish.

"Ride it," he pictures your hands pressing down on his chest, slipping momentarily out of your greedy stronghold from laborious perspiration.

"Bounce on it," your breasts jumping with your motions, your pert nipples taunting his hungry teeth.

"Grind down on it," your dance slowing to a gyrate, your figure swaying dangerously close to his trigger.

"Drench my cock with your cum until it fills my lap," he replays your screams in his mind, layering them with the gush of your arousal if you have the wherewithal - or Dieter allows you - to sneak your quivering hand down to your aching clit. He can feel it where his sweat pools now; your juices will gather right between his hips to lap up later.

"While you're raining down on me, I'm gonna shoot my load, stuff your sweet cunt full of my-"

The three minute limit is met again as Dieter's heart jolts.

"C-cum!" he shouts, littering his abdomen with streaks of his sticky, hot release. He's mumbling your name over and over again, addicted to you. His arm is fatigued, but his nerves are astronomically alight, so his body goes on autopilot while his vision spots with black, fucking his fist until every last droplet of his pleasure is tapped.

When he begins atmospheric entry, he lies slumped against the headboard, sedated. His entire being just feels like a void of television static, blue screen, buffering, for a solid few minutes. A dribble of his spend running down the slope of his belly shocks him back to life, its path rippling tingles.

Before he can fool himself into thinking he loves you - remember, this is Dieter Bravo: International Tramp - he picks up his phone.

He sends the text and removes his soiled shirt, reaching over to the nightstand to get another joint.

As his highs swirl into one euphoric daze, he wishes you were here now, if he had to choose one moment from his entire fantasy. Dieter likes to cuddle with strangers, gets paid to do it for his job sometimes, so the absence of post-coital snuggling, especially when it would be with you, is always difficult.

You rarely have the opportunity to smoke because of your job, but he imagines sharing it with you, watching you melt further into bliss through the calming clouds. You get handsy, giggly hugs never failing to lead to more heated touches...

His phone lights up with a message from you:

Maybe he is in love with you, if maybe means most definitely. All that's left to do is wait for you to come home and for the two of you to deliver on both your promises.

main masterlist | join my taglist!

💘taglist: @pascalpanic @melody13522 @tenderwhat @maievdenoir @pedrostories @your-voice-is-mellifluous

[littlemisspascal]

hi bby ✨ I’m hoping to spread a little love around today (it is someone’s birthday after all — so you might see others answering this)!

I am a big fan of people enjoying cake and celebrating, and sometimes cake can be just tooting your own horn 💁‍♀️ so with that in mind, I’d love to know what THREE pieces of work you’re super proud of that you’d recommend others reading, and why 🍰

*squeals* This is such a sweet thing to do for Pedro's bday 💖 Thank you for popping into my inbox! I always feel a little awkward self-promoting myself but here we gooooo 😊

The Infinity Cube 🟨

It's one of my biggest writing endeavors trying to include as many Pedro Boys as I could and I like to think I did a pretty ok job giving each their little moments in the spotlight during the reader's journey through the multiverse.

Before. When. After 💙

My one and only non-Pedro Boy fic featuring Melshi from Andor x reader. It was such a fun experience writing in this universe and I really think some of my personal best lines can be found in this fic.

Love Triangles 🐶

I love soulmate au fics and I really just wanted an excuse to reference Lady and the Tramp (one of my fave disney movies) as much as I could 😌 Dieter and Pidge def stole my heart during the making of this story.

[psychedelic-ink]

So, I indulged myself a bit and I commissioned myself a lil' Halloween art that has nothing to do with any of fic I've written. Thank you to @moguloops for this, I can't stop staring at it and I'm literally in love with your talent please consider commissioning them, I have 0 regrets 🧡🧡🧡

It's me with cute devil horns and Dieter with his plastic fangs 🧛‍♂️ (he binged twilight this year and got inspired fbfgb)

Happy Halloween everyone! 👻🍬

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

hi bby ✨ I’m hoping to spread a little love around today (it is someone’s birthday after all — so you might see others answering this)!

I am a big fan of people enjoying cake and celebrating, and sometimes cake can be just tooting your own horn 💁‍♀️ so with that in mind, I’d love to know what THREE pieces of work you’re super proud of that you’d recommend others reading, and why 🍰

Hi Jo, this is such a fun ask, you are such a ray of sunshine for spreading love on this special day ❤️

I'm taking this opportunity to shine a spotlight on some of my favourite drabbles (masterlist here). I'm so so proud of them because they were my first ever requests and I was pushed so far outside of my comfort zone, but they turned out to be an absolute joy to write, and I re-read them very often!

Dieter Bravo x Library AU: You're a librarian in the small town Dieter Bravo is filming in. When he starts showing up in your library on Thursdays looking for a book to read, you never thought it would end up with him on your doorstep weeks later.

Joel Miller x College Neighbour AU: Three times Joel Miller ends up in your college dorm bed.

Frankie Morales x Soulmates AU: Sometimes, you wonder what colour Frankie’s eyes are.

Thank you for this ask, and I'm sure I'm not the one who will now turn the same question to you 😘

[prettyqueerwitch]

My Spiritual Book TBR's

This is mainly for me to have a comprehensive list but also might help others in finding books to read!

Marked ♡ means I own the book

Read

• Witchery by Juliet Diaz

• The Green Witch by Arin Murphy-Hiscock

• Witch, Please by Victoria Maxwell

Currently Reading

To Be Read

♡ The Altar Within by Juliet Diaz

♡ Plant Witchery by Juliet Diaz

♡ Encyclopedia of Spirits by Judika Illes

• Encyclopedia of Witchcraft by Judika Illes

• Encyclopedia of Mystics, Saints, & Sages by Judika Illes

• Moon Magic by Diane Ahlquist

♡ The Moon Book by Sarah Faith Gottesdiener

♡ Magical Healing by Hexe Claire

• The Long Lost Friend by John George Hohman

• Hex and Spellwork by Karl Herr

♡ Witchcraft Medicine by Claudia Müller-Ebeling, Christian Rätsch, and Wolf-Dieter Storl

• How to Study Magic by Sarah Lyons

• Love is In The Earth by Melody

• Radical Remedies by Brittany Ducham

♡ Spiritual Ecology by Multiple People (Llewellyn)

♡ A Witch's Shadow Magic Compendium by Raven Digitalis

• The Witch at The Forests Edge by Christine Grace

• Six Ways by Aidan Wachter

♡ Honoring Your Ancestors by Mallorie Vaudoise

• Year of The Witch by Temperance Alden

♡ Weave The Liminal by Laura Tempest Zakroff

♡ The Book of Candle Magic by Madame Pamita and Judika Illes

• The Triumph of the Moon by Ronald Hutton

♡ Folk Witchcraft by Roger J. Horne

♡ Wild Witchcraft by Rebecca Beyer

♡ The Spiral Dance by Starhawk

• Spells for Change by Frankie Castanea

• Utterly Wicked by Dorothy Morrison

♡ Of Blood and Bones by Kate Freuler

♡ The Little Work by Durgadas Allon Duriel

• Entering Hekates Garden by Cyndi Brannen

• Entering Hekates Cave by Cyndi Brannen

• Nordic Runes by Paul Rhys Mountfort

• The Book of Spells by Ella Harrison

• Plants of the Devil by Corinne Boyer

♡ Besom, Stang, and Sword by Christopher Orapello, Tara-Love Maguire

♡ Inner Witch by Gabriela Herstik

♡ Psychic Witch by Mat Auryn

♡ The Black Arts by Richard Cavendish

• Blackthorn's Botanical Magic by Amy Blackthorn

• Astrology for Real Life by Theresa Reed

♡ Seventy-Eight Degrees of Wisdom

• The Trotula by Monica H. Green

• Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer

• Bringing Race to the Table: Exploring Racism in the Pagan Community by Crystal Blanton, Taylor Ellwood, and Brandy Williams

• God Against the Gods by Jonathan Kirsch

• Pure Magic by Judika Illes

• Folk Magic by Mari Silva

• Witches Herbal Primer by Amy Cesari

♡ New World Witchery by Cory Thomas Hutcherson

•Magical Folk Healing by DJ Conway

• The Pagan Book of Days by Nigel Pennick

♡ Lady of The Night by Edain McCoy

♡ Spellcraft for a Magical Year by Sarah Bartlett

♡ The Complete Lenormand Oracle Handbook by Catlín Matthews

♡ Natural Magic by Pamela Ball

♡ Rebel Witch by Kelly-Ann Maddox

♡ The Only Astrology Book You'll Ever Need by Joanna Martine Woolfolk

♡ Mastering Magick by Mat Auryn

♡ In-focus Crystals by Bernice Cockram

♡ The Complete Grimoire by Lidia Pradas

• The Element Encyclopedia of 5000 Spells by Judika Illes

And that took a while but we're done! Will probably update this as I go <3

[trulybetty]

Chiffon | Chapter Three, Anger & Bargaining

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x OFC (no age gap) Warnings: therapy, angst, food, well-meaning friends that sometimes think they know better, and gratuitous use of Canva for things that amuse me because I'm going to have fun with this Word Count: 5,898 Summary: It's the present day and Dieter is attending therapy while Bryony embarks on new adventures with an old friend. AO3: Linked

x.chiffon masterlist.

Chiffon | Chapter 3 Anger & Bargaining

Present Day.

The warm LA sun shone through the wall-to-ceiling windows. From the third floor, Dieter could see over the expansive city. The traffic was in gridlock below, barely moving. Likely a chorus of horns, radios and frustrations. But behind the glass up and away the sounds were hidden. 

Readjusting himself on the large modern leather couch, Dieter looked out of place in his casual attire. Looking more like he’d just rolled out of bed, with his well-worn t-shirt and sweatpants, than attending a therapy session. 

The room was full of warm tones of beige and earth hues intersected with soft pastel landscapes of what looked like Wyoming sunsets. He made a mental note to check the name of the artist later. His gaze bounced between his therapist and the Zen rock garden on the coffee table between them.

“So," Sunita, or Sunny as she preferred to be called, a name quite apt given her warm disposition, prompted Dieter. 

Her tone was calm yet insistent, her dark eyes shimmering with professional curiosity. "How did it make you feel?”

Dieter let out a laugh, short and mirthless, “That’s such a cliche of a question.” His fingers played with the hem of his t-shirt, a subconscious act of diversion.

Sunny’s lips quirked up in an amiable smirk, “It’s a cliche to deflect a question with a statement such as that.” She rested her notepad on her lap, leaning back in her chair as she met his gaze head-on.

Her comment drew a wry smile from Dieter, his fingers migrating from his shirt to his chin, rubbing the rough stubble that lined his jaw thoughtfully. This was not his first rodeo with therapy, but it was the first time he felt heard, felt understood. 

Dieter's first experience with therapy was shaped by an austere older man, a therapist hand-picked by Pierce when Dieter remained disinterested in the process. The sterile environment of the man's office—cold, devoid of artwork, furnished with rigid chairs—created a frigid ambiance rather than the warmth of a healing sanctuary. Despite his initial reluctance, Dieter had yielded to Pierce's insistence, attending the session in order to keep Pierce making an effort for booking his troubled client.

However, the therapist was quick to reveal his preconceived assumptions about Dieter. No sooner had the session begun, the man delved into a Freudian analysis, linking Dieter's behavior to deeply embedded psychological constructs. The premature conclusion, devoid of any personal understanding of Dieter, felt like a violation. The therapy session, which had barely lasted twenty minutes, left Dieter feeling more exposed and judged than healed.

Emotionally bruised, Dieter chose self-isolation over therapy, descending into a two-week long binge of alcohol and drugs. This self-destructive path cost him a leading role in a B-list horror movie, but at that time, he didn't care. The therapy had stoked fears rather than healing them, and Dieter had rejected the idea of therapy entirely until he made a serious attempt at healing.

Sunny on the other hand, Sunny he respected. She saw through his bullshit and was certainly not shy about calling him out on it. She was also closer to his age, she’d mentioned a forty-something birthday on the horizon in a previous session. Because of this the dynamic didn’t feel parental, something that bristled Dieter, he didn’t handle the idea of being spoken down to well. Some days with Sunny, he could almost convince himself it wasn’t therapy, just two people talking.

He sighed. His fingers gently traced the dark ink of the filled-in triangle on the inside of his right forearm. 

It’s presence there, a stark contrast against his tanned skin, a mirror to the matching, yet distinctly different, empty triangle etched on his left arm. Their opposing directions lending to their symbolic value. When Bryony had asked about them, he’d explained their meaning, one filled, one empty - represented his journey, his growth, his evolution. The duality and balance they held resonated with Bryony, leading to a late-night decision to have a similar tattoo inked behind her ear over a forgettable takeout on top of a moving box the night before they had made the permanent move together to a tiny townhouse in Santa Monica.

To discover that Bryony still had her matching tattoo, despite telling him that she'd had it removed, stirred countless emotions within him.

"Surprised... confused..." He paused, his gaze falling on the Zen garden. The tiny, uneven paths in the sand reflected his tumultuous feelings. "A part of me felt... I don’t know... betrayed."

Sunny noted his response, her gaze flickering between Dieter and her notepad, “Betrayed? Can you elaborate on that?”

He ran his hand through his hair, his gaze distant, "She told me she had them removed. So finding out she didn't... it's like she lied to me, or at least that's how it feels. And, I guess... it also made me wonder why she kept it."

Sunny nodded, pen scribbling on her notepad, “And why do you think she might have kept it?”

Dieter shrugged, a helpless smile crossing his features, "Hell if I know, Sunny." He leaned back on the couch, arms folded over his chest, "Maybe she forgot, or maybe it didn't matter enough to her to have them removed. Or maybe…” there was trepidation in his voice, “she still feels connected to me, in some way."

The room fell silent for a moment, the hum of the air conditioner filling the gap in conversation. Sunny watched him, her gaze thoughtful as she considered her next question, “And how do you feel about that possibility, Dieter? The possibility that she might still feel connected to you?”

Dieter glanced at her, his dark brown eyes clouded with emotion, a sigh escaped his lips before he finally admitted, “I don’t know, Sunny... I really don’t know."

Sunny’s expression remained thoughtful as she watched Dieter. His admission of the uncertainty surrounding his feelings for Bryony had left an echo of vulnerability hanging in the air. She gave him a moment, allowing the silence to settle before she pressed on, “You bring Bryony up a lot in our sessions, Dieter. How long ago did you break up?”

Dieter’s eyebrows knitted together in a slightly defensive frown, a hint of curiosity flickered in his eyes. He had a feeling Sunny was navigating towards a specific point, and it put him slightly on edge. “Almost four years ago,” he answered evenly, maintaining eye contact with her.

“Four years... That’s a considerable amount of time, Dieter,” Sunny began, noting his reaction. Her voice held a gentle firmness, providing an anchor in the complex tides of emotions they were wading through. “And yet, she still seems to be a significant part of your life, wouldn't you say?”

Dieter sighed, folding his arms defensively across his chest, “Isn’t that why I’m here? To talk about things that affect me? She’s a part of my past...”

“Indeed, she is,” Sunny replied, not missing a beat. She tapped her pen against her notepad, “But it appears that she might still be a part of your present too. Would you agree?”

Dieter paused, considering her words. His gaze wandered from Sunny back to the painted landscape on the wall, “I... suppose. Yes, she's part of my present. We’re still in the same industry, we share friends... it's hard to avoid her.”

Sunny nodded, penning down his answer, “And how do you feel about that? Does it bother you, this unavoidable presence of her in your life?”

“It’s... complicated,” Dieter admitted after a thoughtful pause. He leaned back against the couch, running his hand through his messy hair. The stubble on his chin prickled against his palm as he considered the question, “Sometimes it does bother me, but other times it doesn’t. Sometimes it feels good to have that... familiar connection. I don’t know if it’s healthy or not, though.”

“I think that’s a fair assessment,” Sunny responded, noting his conflicted feelings. “Often, when we have unresolved feelings towards someone from our past, their continued presence in our lives can be both comforting and troubling. Do you think you have unresolved feelings towards Bryony?”

Dieter’s eyes met hers, a flash of surprise and vulnerability in his gaze. He seemed to wrestle with the question, the silence in the room growing more profound as the seconds ticked by. His voice was barely a whisper when he finally admitted, “I guess… I guess I do.”

Sunny smiled, a soft, understanding expression that put Dieter at ease. “That’s a brave admission, Dieter. It's okay to have unresolved feelings. Acknowledging them is the first step towards addressing them. Remember, therapy isn't about finding quick solutions. It’s a journey towards understanding and healing. You’re doing great.”

Dieter exhaled a sigh of relief, feeling an unexpected weight lifted off his chest. “Thank you, Sunny. This… this isn’t easy.”

“I know, Dieter,” she reassured him, “But remember, the toughest battles often lead to the greatest victories. Perhaps let’s continue to explore these feelings?”

Dieter drew a shaky breath, his fists clenching unconsciously as he acknowledged her words. "I do– I feel a lot of guilt, a lot of shame... I hate that I hurt her. I hate that I became that person. I never want to be that man again.”

"Sometimes, the weight of guilt can push us to make necessary changes, Dieter," Sunny stated, her voice a calming anchor amidst the swirling sea of his emotions. "The steps you've taken, actively seeking help, opening up about your inner turmoil - these are all substantial strides on the path of recovery."

Caught in the sincerity of her gaze, Dieter allowed his vulnerability to shine through. "Do you really believe that?"

"Absolutely," Sunny affirmed with unwavering certainty. "How long have you been attending our sessions now?"

"Four months," he admitted, the number feeling more significant as he voiced it out loud.

"Exactly. And before that? One therapy session that didn't end well, if I remember correctly. Yet, here you are, four months in, dedicated to this journey. Isn't that a testament to your commitment? To your recovery?"

At her words, he gave a reluctant nod. "I guess."

"Dieter," Sunny encouraged, her tone gentle yet firm, "You need to start giving yourself the credit you deserve."

"But where's the fun in that?" he retorted, a familiar glint of jest in his eyes. "I probably wouldn't be here if I started doing that."

Her knowing gaze landed on him, recognizing his deflection, his resort to humor and self-deprecation. "Why don't we get back to the matter at hand?"

"But I thought I was the matter at hand? Especially since I'm the one in therapy," he countered, his usual shield of humor up once again.

"Yes, we could change the topic, but Bryony does seem to come up quite often," Sunny observed carefully, "And when she does, you often resort to deflecting. Perhaps," she suggested, pausing for a moment to gauge his reaction, "it's time we address that head-on?"

A silence fell over the room, the air heavy with remorse and regret. Dieter's gaze fell, his hands nervously playing with the edge of his shirt. It was as if he had transported himself back to that moment, reliving the painful memories.

"Since that night, our paths haven't truly crossed," Dieter admitted, a hollow chuckle slipping past his lips. "Sure, we've been in the same spaces - at work, at social events... But we've never really engaged, not in a substantial conversation. And, well," he paused, a wry twist on his lips, "on the rare occasion that we did share more than just a glance or a casual greeting, it led to...other things." The implication hung in the air. "I guess I've been playing the coward," he finished, bitterness tingeing his confession.

Sunny remained silent for a moment, letting his words sink in. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft yet firm, "Dieter, acknowledging our mistakes is a crucial step towards self-improvement. It's evident that you feel remorse for your actions, and that's a good start. But it's also important not to dwell too much on the past. We can't change what's already happened. What we can do, though, is learn from our mistakes and strive to do better in the future."

Dieter heaved a deep sigh, his chest rising and falling dramatically as he sucked in the air. “I was pretty an asshole to her at the end of our relationship.” He confessed, looking towards Sunny, her face maintaining its professional composure, encouraging him to continue. “I think I made her life miserable more than anything.”

He looked away, his gaze finding solace in the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the bustling city. He seemed lost in thought as he recounted, “I took advantage that she'd always be there – because she always was, no matter how much I fucked up, how high I got or hungover...she'd find me, she'd always pick me up.”

He took a moment, swallowing hard before he continued, “I haven't told you about the night we broke up, have I?”

Silence hung in the room for a moment as Dieter seemed to grapple with the magnitude of his confession. He stared blankly at the opposite wall as if he could still see the scene play out.

Sunny watched him with empathetic eyes, giving him the space he needed. "You haven't," she confirmed softly, signalling him to go on.

Dieter’s face hardened, a visible lump forming in his throat as he forced the words out. "It was our anniversary, I'd forgotten about it completely, of course. Instead, I'd gone on a bender for three days and turned up home only to change my clothes. I hadn’t expected her to be home. I thought she was still in New York, but she'd flown home early."

The words hung heavy in the room, a painful reminder of his past transgressions. The regret in his voice was palpable. Sunny listened, her gaze soft but attentive, allowing Dieter to recount his memories without interruption. 

"I walked in, high as a kite, still wearing the clothes I'd had on for God knows how many days." Dieter continued, his voice quieter now, "She was there, all dressed up, a...a surprised look on her face that quickly soured into disappointment."

He paused, his jaw clenched as he tried to hold back the emotions threatening to spill over. Sunny could see the physical struggle he was going through and could feel the weight of the guilt and regret he was carrying. Sunny remained silent, her eyes never leaving his face.

"She picked up on it immediately."

"Picked up on what?" Sunny probed gently, her eyes soft and nonjudgmental.

"That I was high. No matter how well I thought I had it under wraps, Bryony could always tell," Dieter admitted with a heavy sigh. His hand absentmindedly traced over the edge of the couch cushion, his thoughts wandering back to those difficult times.

"And how did that make you feel, knowing you couldn't hide your state from her?" Sunny queried, carefully treading the delicate waters of his past.

A bitter laugh escaped Dieter's lips. "Like the most important person in the world, that's how. To have someone care about me enough to see through my bullshit... to see the real me, despite all the mess. But on the flip side..." He swallowed hard, the corners of his mouth turning down as he grappled with the next part of the truth. "I hated the feeling of vulnerability. Of being so transparent."

Sunny made a note on her legal pad, her eyes flicking to Dieter briefly before she continued her scribbling. There was something there, in that dual sensation of being cherished and yet exposed, that they would need to unpack in a future session.

"And then what happened, Dieter?" she asked, leaning back in her chair, ready to listen.

Dieter's gaze drifted to the window, his eyes following the steady path of a plane soaring high above the city. The room was quiet, save for the distant hum of city life outside, but Dieter's mind was far from silent, echoing with the sharp sting of regret and faded memories.

“She flushed my stash," he said suddenly, the words breaking the silence like glass shattering on concrete. "The one I thought she didn’t know about. She took my phone, and deleted all my dealer contacts."

His voice was bitter, filled with self-loathing. "I raged at her, I lost control. She remained so calm, so composed… It was eerie. I hit a record low when I threw a whiskey bottle, not looking where it would land… It just missed her head."

Sunny’s eyes widened slightly, the only break in her professional demeanor "She told me to leave. And I… I just left."

The confession seemed to drain the energy from him. He slumped back into his chair, looking years older than he was.

"We ran into each other constantly after that. Work, parties, random encounters. It felt like the universe was playing a sick joke on us." His voice was almost a whisper now, heavy with regret.

Sunny broke the silence gently. "Did you ever apologize to her, Dieter?"

His eyes met hers, filled with an odd mix of guilt and fear. "No. I didn't. I was too scared of what she might say."

Sunny maintained her composure, her voice soft yet firm. "Acknowledging our mistakes is a vital part of healing, Dieter. And it's clear you feel remorse for your actions, which is a positive start. But harbouring these feelings of guilt and fear won't help you move forward. Perhaps apologizing, even if it's late, can provide closure for both of you."

"I'm not sure I deserve it, to be honest," Dieter admitted, stretching out his legs and wincing as his joints popped in protest. Age was an adversary he was beginning to acknowledge more and more. "She sacrificed so much for me, you know. I mean, it was her hard work that got me that Oscar."

Sunny raised an eyebrow, her interest piqued, "Is that so? I didn't know she acted as your double?"

A rich, hearty laugh rumbled through Dieter's chest, his response light with amusement. "No, not quite. She sourced the script, you see. She practically shoved it into the execs' hands. She transformed it from this rough, patchwork script into a polished, award-winning production. She got my name out there. She opened doors for me."

Sunny's brow furrowed slightly as she processed his words. "Didn't you once mention that Hollywood had been beckoning you for years before Bryony came along? That you'd been turning down offers left and right?"

Dieter blinked in surprise. He had indeed shared that tidbit in a previous session. He wondered, not for the first time if a superhuman memory was a prerequisite for therapists. "Yeah, I did," he confirmed, "I turned down quite a few offers."

The therapist leaned back, her gaze probing. "So, why was Bryony any different? It's clear you had more talent than you realized because they wanted you, whether or not you had Bryony's assistance."

Dieter's lips curved into a thoughtful frown. He stared at a spot on the wall, his mind filling with memories, including the one of the post it note Bryony had left him one morning while filming Hunger Strike, a note on his performance the day before, he still carried it in his wallet. 

"Bryony...Bryony was persistent. She saw something in me I hadn't, and she wouldn't let me quit. She was always there, cheering me on. And I won't lie, she had this aura... this energy that was impossible to resist. She made me want to believe in myself."

His voice dropped to a whisper, his emotions baring themselves in his words. "Bryony made me feel...worthy. It wasn't about the Hollywood offers or the limelight. It was about... it was about feeling seen, feeling valued for who I truly was. And for the first time, I felt that with her."

Sunny was silent for a moment, absorbing his heartfelt confession. She finally spoke, her voice soft but determined, "Dieter, recognizing someone else's impact on your life and acknowledging their sacrifices is part of healing. But remember, your achievements are your own too. Bryony might have helped you, but you're the one who took the opportunities and made something of them. It's time to give yourself some credit too."

Dieter's eyes roamed the room as the silence stretched between them. He was lost in his thoughts, grappling with Sunny's words. Her insistence on his self-worth was something that rang foreign to him, but there was a seed of hope planted.

"Speaking of influences," Sunny broke the silence, her voice taking on a slightly sterner tone, "we've been skirting around the topic of your parents for a while. I think it's about time we addressed that."

Dieter's gaze snapped back to Sunny at the mention of his parents. His expression hardened, and a glimmer of resistance sparked in his eyes. It was a subject he had expertly danced around during their sessions. He didn't need to delve into the part of his past that still haunted him. "Why does it matter?" he asked, more gruff than he intended.

Sunny's gaze was steady and understanding. "Because our relationships with our parents shape us. They're a part of our story, for better or worse. Your reactions when we've mentioned them suggest it's a significant aspect of your life we've yet to explore."

She glanced at the clock hanging on the wall behind him. "I realize this is a lot to ask of you at the end of our session, Dieter. We'll pick it up from here next time. But I'd like you to think about this in the meantime."

Dieter was silent, his face a mask of restraint. Sunny's words hung in the air, heavy and pregnant with implication. His parents. The mere thought of discussing them filled him with unease. They were a part of his life he preferred to keep buried, and here Sunny was, wanting him to unearth it all.

The shrill beep of the timer brought him back to reality, and he glanced at the clock. Their session was over. Yet, as he rose from the couch, he felt a weight clinging to him. Sunny's words echoed in his head, nudging him to confront a part of his past he had conveniently shelved away.

He gave her a curt nod, acknowledging her words. She watched him leave, a thoughtful look in her eyes.

Dieter stepped outside, the bright sun a stark contrast to the shadow his past cast on him.  

—-

“Bryn, babes!” Gina’s petite figure broke through the crowded restaurant, leaning down to sweep Bryony in a hug where she sat at their table. “I’ve missed you.” She continued as she took a seat opposite Bryony. “They really know how to pack people in here don’t they?”

Sabor Asiático was indeed buzzing, every table was occupied and wait staff milled back and forth nonstop. It was hard to believe this was all just for a Wednesday afternoon. 

Bryony smiled widely as she lowered the menu she’d be reading over waiting for Gina’s arrival, “I’ve missed you too, how long has it been since we actually talked face to face?”

“Jesus,” Gina’s affluent English accent made Bryony feel a little homely in the sea of mostly North American accents. “Way too fucking long babes.”

Gina had mentored Bryony years ago when Bryony had first arrived in London, the industry then not as favourable to women and with few opportunities, would be pitted against one another. So Gina had taken her under her wing - their relationship quickly turned into a firm friendship as the years passed. 

Food served, the women launched into an easy conversation catching one another up on goings on since they last talked. Then, without fail, the topic of Dieter came up - as it always did, because inevitably there was always something involving Bryony and Dieter to discuss.

“That prick Bravo, still skirting around?”

Bryony took a moment, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. “Not quite, I ran into him a couple of weeks ago at an industry thing.”

“Did you get a chance to fling a canapé at his head?”

Bryony chuckled, the sound almost drowned by the bustling chatter around them. “Not quite.”

Gina gave her a probing look, her gaze scrutinizing. “You didn’t go and get into bed with him, did you?”

“God no,” Bryony responded quickly, since Gina knew her past with Dieter, it wasn't exactly an unreasonable question, since it had happened once… or twice. “We had a brief catch-up if you could call it that? That's all. He seemed to be doing, well, good.”

Gina raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a wry smile, “Good, as in ‘I want to shag him silly?’ Or the rumours are possibly true that he finally completed rehab good?”

Bryony raised an eyebrow, it seemed the news of Dieter’s supposed upturn had reached New York, “Rehab,” she emphasised, “I don’t know much, but yeah, from what I hear he actually went. He looked healthy, even looked like he’d seen the inside of a gym.”

With a heavy sigh, Gina pointed her chopsticks at Bryony. “Bryony.”

Bryony pushed at the food on her plate, “Hmm?”

“You're not fooling anyone, least of all me.”

“What are you talking about?” Bryony asked, her brows furrowed at her friend’s suggestion.

Gina’s eyes met hers, stern yet empathetic. “Don’t feign innocence, Bry. You know exactly what I'm getting at.”

Bryony looked down at her plate, the patterns of the porcelain suddenly becoming incredibly interesting. “He just looked… he looked like Dieter again. The Dieter I knew before everything spiralled.”

Gina studied Bryony’s face, the flicker of sadness that flashed across her eyes. Leaning back in her chair, she gently dabbed her mouth with a napkin, her eyes never leaving Bryony.

“You know, Bryony, I feel I should remind you of something," she began, her tone taking on a serious note, one Bryony recognised from the old days in London when Gina was still her mentor. "Dieter Bravo might have had a successful stint in rehab, but at the end of the day, he's still Dieter Bravo.”

Bryony bristled at the comment, “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that people don't change overnight, Bry,” Gina replied, holding Bryony's gaze. "A fancy suit and a couple of yoga classes don’t erase past transgressions.”

Bryony felt a lump forming in her throat. It was a hard truth, one she wasn't ready to admit to herself yet. But Gina wasn’t one to mince words, especially not when it concerned the people she cared for.

“He was a mess, Bryony. He was lost, spiralling down a self-destructive path. He hurt you, badly.” Gina’s words hung heavily between them, an uncomfortable reminder of the past.

Bryony looked down, her fingers picking at the napkin on her lap. She knew Gina was right, but it didn't make the pill any easier to swallow.

“I don’t need a reminder, Gina. I was there, remember? I lived it,” she finally said.

“Yes, you did,” Gina acknowledged, her voice softening. “And you're stronger for it. You've moved on, and built a life for yourself that isn’t centred around Dieter Bravo. You have a thriving career, a life here in LA that you’ve built from scratch. Don’t let one encounter, one glammed-up industry event, make you forget all that.”

Bryony's eyes welled up, not with sadness, but with gratitude. Gina had always been her sounding board, her moral compass when Bryony lost sight of her bearings.

“You’re right,” Bryony admitted, wiping her eyes discreetly. “It’s just...seeing him like that, it just...it caught me off guard.”

Gina reached across the table, giving Bryony’s hand a comforting squeeze. “It's understandable, Bry. He was a big part of your life. But you have to remember, you fell in love with a version of Dieter that no longer exists.”

Bryony frowned at the idea of Dieter, her Dieter, gone.

Gina merely shook her head, her sharp blonde bob swaying with the motion. "You might want to dismiss what I'm saying, but you know as well as I do that I'm right."

Bryony forced a smile, her eyes betraying a hint of amusement. "And here I was thinking we were having a catch-up lunch, not a therapy session."

"Always the dramatic one," Gina teased, her smile softening. "But seriously Bryony, I've known you for a long time. I've seen you at your highest and at your lowest. And I know what that man did to you."

Bryony's smile waned at this, her fingers unconsciously tracing the rim of her wine glass. Gina watched her silently, her heart aching for her friend.

“I know that,” she murmured, the statement more to herself than to Gina.

Gina let out a sigh of relief, her stern expression softening. “Good. That’s all I wanted to hear. Remember, Bryony, you're stronger than you think. And you deserve someone who appreciates you for the amazing woman you are, not someone who realizes your worth too late.”

Bryony smiled, grateful for her friend's understanding. "I've missed you, Gina.”

"I've missed you too, Bry," Gina replied warmly, her thumb tracing circles on Bryony's hand. "And I'm always here for you, you know that."

Bryony nodded, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "I know. Thank you, Gina."

Gina blotted her eyes with the napkin she’d had on her lap, “Jesus, one of these days we’re going to get together without the tears.”

“There’s hope yet.” Bryony laughed.

“So, moving on.” Gina announced as she took a large sip of her drink, “Any projects lined up for awards season?”

Bryony shook her head, “No, I think I reached my peak with Hunger Strike.”

“Nonsense, the right project is out there.”

“Maybe.”

Gina paused, taking a deep breath as if experiencing the cinematic feat for the first time again, “As much as that man infuriates me, god was he ever a great actor. That movie was mindblowing, still is.”

“I know.”

“Such a wasted talent,” Bryony nodded, and sensing Bryony’s discomfort, Gina decided it was time to change the subject. “Enough about Bravo,” she said, waving her hand dismissively, “Let’s talk about why we’re here, shall we?”

Bryony perked up, relieved for the change in topic. This was something she had been looking forward to discussing with Gina. “Right,” she said, taking a sip of her drink before starting, “So, I have this idea...”

Gina leaned back in her chair, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. She knew Bryony was capable of great things. She had seen the woman grow from an unsure junior to a confident and highly regarded name in the industry. It was this growth that had sparked the idea of partnering with her former protégé.

Bryony continued, her words flowing with an excitement she hadn't felt in a while. She spoke of her vision of a production company that would create compelling stories that mattered. Stories that brought light to societal issues, that challenged norms, and that inspired change.

As she talked, Bryony’s eyes lit up, her hands moved animatedly, and her voice rose with fervor. This was her passion, her dream. And she wanted Gina to be a part of it.

Gina listened attentively, her eyes never leaving Bryony. It was a bold idea, but if anyone could make it happen, it was Bryony Morgan. She'd seen the woman in action, her knack for spotting potential in a script, her ability to bring together the right team for a project, and her undeniable talent for turning ideas into realities.

“Wow, Bry,” Gina finally said once Bryony finished, her eyes full of admiration. “This sounds like an incredible venture. But why me? You could have anyone in this industry.”

Bryony looked at her, a smile tugging at her lips. “Because, Gina, you were the one who believed in me when I was starting out. You guided me, taught me everything I know. You’re the best in the business and I trust you. And frankly, I can’t think of anyone else I’d want to do this with.”

Gina couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. She was touched by Bryony’s words. She had always seen potential in the younger woman, but hearing her speak with such passion and conviction, she felt a swell of pride.

“Well then, how can I refuse such an offer?” Gina said, raising her glass. “To new beginnings and exciting ventures.”

Bryony raised her glass as well, her heart swelling with hope and anticipation. “To new beginnings,” she echoed. They clinked their glasses together, a sound that signalled the start of their exciting new journey.

—

Bryony flicked through the TV channels, it was more of an activity in procrastination that afternoon than entertainment.

Suddenly, her phone beeped, its muffled sound coming from somewhere beneath the sofa cushions. After a quick search, she pulled the device up to her face. The screen lit up, revealing a text message from her older brother, Rhys. She quickly calculated the time difference in her head, reminding herself that he was some hours ahead. Given it was past ten in the evening his time, she opened the message with a mixture of curiosity and mild concern.

SHE SAID YESSS!!! 💍🍾

Bryony laughed out loud, Rhys Morgan, the eternal bachelor and self-proclaimed silver fox, after admitting defeat in his battle against the invasion of grey into his dark hair, was engaged. Not that it wasn’t obvious to anyone who saw how the muscular ex-professional rugby player turned corporate lawyer dissolved into a puddle at the mere mention of his girlfriend – now fiancée – Juliana's name.

Quickly, Bryony fired off a reply filled with congratulatory words and an abundance of emojis, followed by a promise to arrange a Facetime call at a more reasonable hour for the full scoop on the proposal.

As she waited for Rhys's reply, her screen displayed the familiar bubbles that signalled an incoming message. A moment later, a photo appeared. It was Rhys and Juliana, locked in a joyous embrace, clearly taken just moments after the proposal. Bryony's heart twinged with a pang of homesickness as she recognised the background – the Pierhead building in Cardiff Bay, bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun and nearby street lamps.

Setting her phone down, Bryony couldn't help but smile at the thought of her older brother finding love in his fifties. If Rhys could do it, there was certainly hope for her yet.

Just as she was about to return to her mindless channel surfing, her phone beeped again. This time, it was a notification from her Apple News summary. She was about to dismiss it when a particular headline caught her attention: Troubled Hollywood Scoundrel Dieter Bravo Inks Eight Episode Drama

Her heart stuttered, all thoughts of Rhys's engagement momentarily forgotten. The words hung in her mind, a brief sense of unease but also igniting a spark of curiosity. As much as she tried to focus back on the TV, the headline kept repeating in her head. She picked up her phone again, her finger hovering over the news alert. With a resigned sigh, she tapped on the notification, there was no way of getting away from Dieter Bravo.

Bonus: Dieter's New Project

[dangerous-realms]

@violentemperor (congrats he's got Kira's twins to interact with and Felicitas might gender check him)

----------

Kira was out of the house at the moment, going shopping for groceries as she wanted to make a nice yummy supper for her, the twins, and Kefla to enjoy. Telling him that it could be a good way to get their guard down in case their hostile, a calming atmosphere may help with the fact that he's essentially a seven foot tall giant in the eyes of the two feet three inches tall twins.

Relwuth (Felicitas) and Rulsar (Dieter) had other plans. We'll it was mainly Relwuth's idea and Rulsar was simply tagging along to make sure his older sister didn't get into shit. One of the side doors to the house would rattle as Felicitas stood on Dieter's shoulders to get the door. They had snuck out of school and made their way home to laze about, skipping school to be exact.

It wouldn't take long for the little ones to get the door open and get inside. After that they would plop their little book bags down before taking off their shoes and walking through the house. Unaware Kefla was there, Relwuth would beeline over to the fridges pull out freezer and start digging around for some popsicles.

"Relwuth, we're gonna get 'n trouble from mama again..."

The little boy with the same hair coloration as Kira says. His little wings folded neatly behind his back as his small tail sways a bit, small horns protruding from his hair.

"I told ya last time Rulsar, we won't get caught if mama don't find out. Keeping yer mouth shut would help too."

The little girl with light orange hair says. Her little wings stretched out just like her little tail as she stands on the stepping stool and leaning over the edge of the fridges pullout freezer. Kira had said they are seven, though they look about three or four years old.

[itsbrandy]

Burnout Chapter 2

Summary: You may have heard of a mid-life crisis or even a quarter-life crisis, but what is a mid-life crisis called when you’re 32? After giving up on your dreams to become an actress, you find yourself working an interesting, but not optimal career. You’re also living in Los Angeles with a great, but not excellent man. With a massive crush on the one-and-only Dieter Bravo, you spend your time reading fanfiction and questioning what could have been…but what if it’s not too late?

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x OFC

Word Count: 4k

A/N: I imagined this story like a show. Each chapter is like an episode. Each song I'll attach is like an end of episode song. Thank you for reading!

Better By Myself - Hey Violet

Chapter 2: One Step Forward

The woman once again woke up in her Los Angeles apartment and started to go through the motions of her morning routine. She let the dogs out, made the bed, laid out her work uniform and readied herself for the day. 

She skipped a large portion of her makeup routine this morning as she was too tired to be bothered with the minute details of spot concealing or contour. Besides, who was she really trying to impress at her bakery job?

She yawned and tied her hair up in a high ponytail at the base of her neck. Sleep had been difficult to reach her last night. After she had watched that movie with her partner, she took herself to bed and spent far too long browsing Dieter Bravo gossip pages and tabloids before finally falling asleep around 2 am. 

Her partner had tried to cuddle after they had deeply unsatisfying sex before he finally rolled over and went to sleep, but the woman was unwilling to stop browsing on her phone. He had left this morning without doing or saying anything to her, but that was typical of his inattentive nature. 

Once again, the woman left her apartment and got into her car feeling dissatisfied with her life as it was. She punched the button on her radio to select a random preset radio station and tuned it out as she made her way through the slow slog of L.A. traffic to her work. 

As she drove, she imagined herself driving to a movie set — or even better, being driven to a movie set? Did movie stars even drive themselves around L.A.? There was no way that famous people had to navigate something as menial and frustrating as traffic every morning. Or maybe they did, she had seen pictures of Dieter driving around L.A. before. And Britney Spears’ famous paparazzi pictures of her driving with her baby in her lap were devastating and also probably indicative that famous people did drive. 

The fact that she had to mull over whether or not famous people might do something as normal as driving upset her. She wished that she just knew the answer from experience, but unfortunately, she had already played her cards. 

She leaned her forehead against her steering wheel and groaned at the stoplight just before her work. She closed her eyes and thought about what it would be like to get up early for work as an actress. Would she still hate mornings as much as she did now?

Hooooonnnnnk!

Someone laid into their horn unnecessarily long and the woman flipped the driver behind her off in her rearview mirror. The light was now green but appeared to have just turned green as the person next to her hadn’t even started going either. 

“Screw you, asshole! Oh my god,” the woman seethed, putting her foot on the gas. “Way to start my morning off on the right foot.”

She would never admit it to herself, but her anger was grossly misdirected. The only person that had sabotaged her morning was herself. 

***

After a busy morning, lunchtime came around quickly. The woman didn’t have much of an appetite and instead turned to her cellphone and started searching for more information on Dieter Bravo. She wanted more content, craved it even, and her imagination was starting to run wild with possibilities. What would it be like to meet him? Or to be his friend? Or to be his girlfriend?

Running out of content on Reddit, she turned to Tumblr to see if the site was still active for fanart and fan edits. She felt the girlish need to set her phone background to a Dieter Bravo background like she had done in her younger years with celebrities and characters she had crushes on. 

Much to her surprise, there was a pretty decent community of Dieter Bravo fans on the website and she found herself quickly making a new account dedicated to the fandom so that she could save images and posts that she liked. 

She quickly replaced the picture of her dogs in their Halloween costumes with a Dieter Bravo screensaver that she found. The photo was edited with a nice filter that she liked, and her favorite actor was grinning handsomely from ear to ear. 

As she scrolled, she found dozens of appreciation photo sets, paparazzi shots, and edits that she had never seen before from forums or Twitter. Even more exciting was the wealth of Dieter Bravo/Reader fanfiction that existed on the website.

Her heartbeat fluttered as she started to scroll the Dieter Bravo/Reader tag on the website. She then realized that most of the posts were linking back to a website called AO3. After following the link, the wealth of already written fanfiction expanded exponentially. 

It made sense to her after all, Tumblr had fallen off the ranks in terms of popular fanfiction sites, but she hadn’t been sure where everyone who was involved in fandom had gone to. 

With shaky hands she clicked on the first fic she found on AO3. It was robust with 22 chapters and fully completed. The writing was beautiful, and the immersion had her heart racing and her palms growing damp as she placed herself into this woman’s shoes and imagined herself getting to meet Dieter Bravo on the red carpet for the first time. 

She was so excited at her discovery that she didn’t notice a coworker walk into the break  room. 

“What’s up?” Her coworker asked her, startling her out of her obsessive reading. 

The woman slammed her phone face down on the table in front of her in shock, not wanting her coworker to know that she had been reading fanfiction on her lunch break. 

“Oh nothing, just uh, reading the news,” she lied. 

“Cool, cool,” her coworker said casually, taking a seat across from her and beginning to unpack their lunch. “Anything interesting going on?”

Shit, the woman thought. She couldn’t remember the last time that she had actually watched the news seriously. Outside of the context of stories coming up on the radio or her partner watching the nightly news while she made them dinner, she never interacted with politics or anything of the sort. 

“Oh, you know,” she fumbled. “There’s all of that stuff going on with like Russia and like… ooh scary World War Three.” She wiggled her fingers out in front of her for dramatic effect. “I just like to stay up to date on it, I guess.”

“Fair enough,” her coworker replied, unwrapping a turkey sandwich from their lunch bag. “With how close we are to Russia and North Korea and China; I feel like that’s a good idea.”

The woman frowned. She hadn’t ever thought of that before — that the country’s West Coast was closest to those nations. Maybe she should actually start reading the news…

“Yeah totally,” she said anyway with a fake smile on her face. “It’s so important to stay in the know. Anything can happen at any time and like…you should just know at least the basics. Civic duty and all of that jazz.”

She flipped over her phone again and took a look at the time. It was still 10 minutes before she had to return to her shift, but she did not want to sit here and make small talk. 

“Well, I need to go use the restroom before I get back to it,” she explained, standing from her seat at the table. “Enjoy your lunch. That sandwich looks delicious.”

“Thanks!” Her coworker replied as she scurried out of the break room. 

She spent her last 10 minutes of her lunch on the toilet continuing to read the fanfiction that she had found. People came and went from the restroom, but she didn’t pay them any mind. Otherwise, she would have been embarrassed to hold up an entire stall for 10 whole minutes, but since her refuge in the break room had been so rudely interrupted, she needed to work with what she had. 

Sitting on the toilet with her pants around her knees, she imagined herself on a date with Dieter Bravo like the girl in the fanfiction was. He was dressed very suave, and the girl could not afford something of similar caliber. In the story he promised to take her out shopping for suitable clothing so that she didn’t have to be embarrassed any longer. 

The woman thought about her own closet at home and grimaced. If she was to ever be put in this position — not that she would — Dieter would have to do the exact same thing for her. 

She wouldn’t take his money, though. She would much sooner max out her own credit cards on new clothes than allow for him to pay for all of that. Actually, she would’ve done so before he even asked her out. Who wouldn’t go into a little bit of debt to look nice for a lunch date with Dieter?

Scowling at her phone and her lost immersion, she placed her cellphone back into her pocket and prepared herself to finish out the last half of her workday. 

***

The woman pulled up to her apartment with Dieter Bravo stories on her mind. She had taken not one but two more bathroom breaks than she usually would during the second half of her shift to try to get her fix in.

The story progressed with Dieter’s offer to buy the girl in the story a whole new wardrobe. He spared no expense to get her dresses for their dates, gowns for events that were coming up in the next month, and even booked her an appointment with a celebrity hair and makeup artist for the events.

The prospect of being treated like this made her woozy as she drove home thinking of how nice it would feel to be pampered. She had changed her mind since her initial judgment of the character. While she definitely would have charged her credit card for the first date outfit, she would love to be whisked off to designer boutiques in preparation for Dieter’s events. 

There were many characters in the story that she wasn’t sure were actually involved in Dieter’s life in reality. He had a sassy agent who called him continuously with offers for film deals and an ex-girlfriend/former coworker that bothered him endlessly. Not to mention the countless booty calls and horny text messages that he received throughout the day that made the main character jealous.

She resisted the urge to pull her phone out and start reading the story again in her car, knowing that her partner would be expecting her inside. Her story would be waiting for her when she was in her apartment. 

“Can we just order in?” She asked as she entered the apartment, setting her belongings down on the floor in the entryway. “I’m not really feeling up to cooking.”

Her partner turned around from his seat on the couch. “Oh no? Bad day?”

“Not bad, just tired,” she replied, heading straight for their bedroom to change out of her work clothes. “Does takeout sound good?”

“I’m not hungry now,” her partner said from the couch. The news anchor on the TV started a new segment about some police chase that had happened earlier in the day and caused a bunch of traffic. The interference of the news anchor made her irate. 

The woman frowned and poked her head out of the bedroom. “What is that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged and turned the tv down. “I mean I can wait for a bit until dinner. You can take some time to relax before you cook if you want to.”

Take some time to relax before you cook.

Why don’t you get off your ass and cook then? She thought, letting her frustration get the better of her. The words nearly slipped right out of her lips. I cook every damn night for you while you sit there and relax. What? I get 30 minutes to sit before I have to get up and cook?

“Or we could do takeout? Doordash, UberEats?” She offered again from the bedroom. She pulled her work shirt over her head and changed into a loose t-shirt. 

“I’m down to wait for food,” her partner insisted, causing the woman to see red. 

Her work pants were down at her ankles, but she kicked them off and came out into the living room in her underwear with her hands on her hips, not caring that the curtains were wide open for neighbors to see into the apartment.

“Are you not listening to me? I said that I don’t want to cook,” she hissed. “Why would I want to cook more in a half hour from now?”

Her partner held both of his hands up in surrender. “I was just saying I’m not in a rush for food, if you need to rest you can rest. I can wait to eat is all. I had a big lunch.”

“But you’re not listening to me,” she insisted. “I said I want to rest rest. I want to rest all evening and order in. I want to eat some greasy Chinese food and lay around until it’s time to go to bed.”

He raised his eyebrows like he was surprised by the idea. “You said work wasn’t bad. Did something happen at work?”

“No, nothing happened at work. Work was fine. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t deserve a break? Can’t I just not cook for one night? I’m just saying I don’t want to cook for one night and I get shit from you?” 

“Come on, babe. The shades are open,” he protested, trying to circumvent the argument by pointing out her half-nakedness. He commonly argued like this - pointing out some detail in a half-assed attempt to de-escalate and invalidate her emotions. 

She shouldn’t complain about his blatant misogyny and laziness and zero sympathy because God forbid the neighbors see an adult woman in her underwear for a split second as they  walk past. 

“I don’t care! I don’t care about the curtains.” The woman threw her arms up into the air. “I just want to relax and order some damn takeout. Is that too much to ask?”

Her partner shrugged once more, and she ground her teeth in frustration. He really did not have a care in the world. His ambivalence infuriated her. She couldn’t afford to be ambivalent, she had to want for more. 

He was satisfied. 

“I just thought we were trying to save money is all,” he said. “No offense made.”

“Well, offense taken,” the woman said, retreating back into the bedroom in search of a pair of sweatpants. “If your goal is to save money by cooking at home, why does that have to be my sole responsibility?”

“Hey,” his voice had a bite to it now. “I don’t appreciate you coming after me when you’ve never once mentioned feeling overburdened by cooking.”

She ignored him and pawed around on their bedroom floor for her phone which had gotten discarded when she kicked her work pants off of her legs. When she retrieved it, she checked her internet tab on her phone to make sure that she hadn’t lost her place in her story.

The woman re-entered the living room with a new expression written on her face. She played the role of the pacifist now, as always. 

“What do you want from Doordash? Or is UberEats cheaper?”

“UberEats is cheaper. Chinese sounds good,” her partner said, turning the volume back up on the television. 

The face-painted news anchor started talking again, this time about a different story. She spoke of a charity ball for celebrities taking place next weekend that featured the top A-list celebrities and the Make a Wish Foundation. It was being held in Anaheim, near her work. 

“And the likes of Chris Hemsworth, Ryan Reynolds, and Dieter Bravo will all be in attendance. The event is minimally open to the public and tickets are a form of another donation to the foundation. Visit charityballanaheim.com for more information,” the reporter said, and the woman held back a gasp at seeing Dieter Bravo’s face on the television. 

“Did you hear me?” her partner asked. “Chinese?”

“Yeah, yeah, UberEats, I’ve got it,” she replied. “I’m going to go lay down, I think I’m getting a headache. I’m sorry for snapping at you, honey.”

She crossed over to her partner and planted a kiss on his forehead before eagerly heading to their bedroom. 

Her heart was thundering at the realization that Dieter Bravo was going to be so close to where she was working. She had been looking at the rumor pages about him possibly appearing at the D23 Expo for promotional activities, but that wasn’t until three weeks from now. 

This weekend, she would know exactly where he was, and she would be so close to him. She opened up her story on her phone and plugged her charger in so that her phone wouldn’t die. After being on it off and on all afternoon, it was much lower battery than it typically was during a normal day of work. 

Quietly, she started to whisper out the lines of dialogue that the reader would say to Dieter as they were at an event during the story. She closed her eyes for a second and pictured them together at the Met Gala like they were in the fanfiction. 

The luxurious deep red-carpet swathing over the many stairs while photographers snapped images at rapid speed. The Met Gala outfits were usually picked months and months in advance, but Dieter had arranged for a stunning Oscar de la Renta gown to be custom altered to fit her. 

Dieter wore a matching suit that had the very same crystals adorning the material and he had his arm around the small of her waist and he was kissing on her ear as the cameras flashed in their faces.

“There are many beautiful women in this world, but you are the most beautiful, to me,” he said to her. 

The woman smiled as she acted out the reader character’s response, “I was waiting for you to tell me how pretty I am again. I was getting worried that five minutes had passed without a compliment.”

“Even famous actors deserve breaks sometimes,” Dieter replied, kissing her hair. The camera flashed again, causing her to almost blink, but she resisted the urge and plastered a smirk on her face for the cameras. 

“Next time give me a warning,” she murmured out loud, reading the reader’s response once more. 

She froze beneath the covers as she heard the tv mute from the living room.

“Are you on the phone, babe?” her partner asked from the doorway.

Out of fear or anxiety or maybe both, she clicked away from the Dieter Bravo story and switched over to Instagram where her feed was filled with former classmates and their babies and their weddings and events. 

“No, I was just laughing at this stupid thing someone from high school posted on Insta!” she said sheepishly. 

“Oh. How long until Chinese?” he asked. “I lied; I am getting pretty hungry.”

“Shit,” she said, scrambling for the UberEats app on her phone. “I’m sorry, I got distracted. I’m just so exhausted. What did you want again?”

He shrugged. “Just like chow mein and orange chicken from Panda Express.”

“Got it!” she said, giving her partner a thumbs up. “I’m ordering it now.”

“Thanks babe,” he said, leaving her alone once more. 

She completed ordering the food and then took to her story once more, trying not to verbalize the words of the woman in the story, but instead just moving her mouth and making the facial expressions that would go along with the emotions. 

The activity made her want to act again and she started to get frustrated and even sad. What was she doing in her early thirties camping out in bed and pretending to talk to Dieter Bravo? Couldn’t she do something? 

She clicked away from the story once more after reaching Chapter 15 out of 22 and started to look up resources for becoming an actress. There was a feeling deep in the pit of her stomach that felt like a hunger for something more – other than Chinese takeout and Dieter Bravo. 

Perhaps the jealousy she was feeling wasn’t for this character and her interactions with Dieter, but rather her fast track to becoming an actress. She had the distinct feeling that her dream was still missing from her life.  And after all, why couldn’t she start now? Who was really stopping her other than herself? 

‘How to teach self to become actress’, she Googled. In between searches, she flicked back to her story and continued to devour it.

Finally, she found a workshop that was being hosted about a 30-minute drive from where they lived. It was tomorrow, but it was only $15 for a full day of mini-acting classes. She had enough sick leave… She could do it. 

Without hesitation, she registered for the workshop and then returned to her fanfiction. The details were beautiful, the descriptions of the outfits and the way that Dieter spoke to her. His words were like velvet on paper and reading his compliments felt like receiving them in real life. 

An hour passed and the Chinese food was dropped off, filling the apartment with the smell of warm chicken and rice. The woman emerged from her bedroom and sat at the table with her partner. Their two dogs circled beneath the table, eager for any scrap of chicken that they could get. 

She listened as he talked about the business and how excited he was for the next quarter of the year. She nodded and poked at her food with her chopsticks as the resources that she had seen online were still present in her mind. 

“Hey-” she interrupted him mid-sentence. 

“Hey yourself?” his eyes were wide with surprise. “What’s up?”

She took a deep breath inward to steady herself before dropping the news. “You know, I think I’m going to call in sick tomorrow.”

“Huh? Why? Are you okay?” he asked, reaching out for her hand. “You’ve been acting funny today.”

“No, no, I’m not sick. I’m fine,” she insisted.

He raised an eyebrow at her and took a bite of his orange chicken. “Well then, why would you call out sick if you aren’t sick?”

She shrugged, taking a page out of his book. “I’m going to go to an acting workshop tomorrow. It’s only $15 and I want to go.”

Her partner pursed his lips in thought. “Well, if that’s what you want to do tomorrow…then I guess that’s what you want to do tomorrow.”

The woman pressed her lips firmly into a line. Unsupportive as ever, of course. Not that she should expect anything more or less from him. 

“I do want to do it tomorrow,” she said firmly. “So, I’m going to go.”

He nodded and took another bite. “Okay then, it sounds like fun.”

“Don’t you want to know why?” she asked, a little harsher than she had meant it to come out. “Don’t you care?”

“Of course, I care…I mean, I care about you, but you’re being kind of weird. I don’t know.”

“Okay,” the woman said. “I’m going to go back to bed then. I’ll see you there when you’re ready for bed too.”

“Okay,” he replied, his expression suggesting that she was the crazy one. 

She rolled her eyes, took her phone out of her pocket, and returned to read her story in bed as she had been before. 

With a plan to take a step forward in life and a fantasy that was better than her reality, she continued to read stories until midnight, stopping only to get enough rest to prepare for her workshop in the morning. 

Chapter 3 | Series Masterlist

[lnteritus]

are we talking about offerings now?

offerings for me, dieter: cool rocks you found, agate. please give me cool looking agates. taxidermy, bones, teeth, horns, hooves. rare or medium rare steak, cornbread, venison

krampus: hard liquor of course, cookies, ours personally really likes fried chicken.

janek: just give him sweets

inky: nutella hot chocolate, jerky

vymerlyy: glow in the dark stuff, raw meat, raw organ meat, bones

ashen: steak, fire quartz, tinder (like twigs and stuff not the app), cinnamon candy, you lit the candles with a lighter right? give him that too.

forrest: gummi worms

but because this is the internet, we all are accepting pictures of cool bugs, pretty rocks, low energy friendly recipes.

[pennyserenade]

i've been listening to your Dieter playlist all morning I love it so much

i don’t mean to toot my own horn here but i love my dieter playlist, too. in my mind dieter is this artsy 80s kid, very cool but in a retro way. he gets high listening to pink floyd, to prince, to old records his parents used to spin, doesn’t have one particular style that his favorite. in my mind he has this ever growing and eclectic vinyl collection on one wall, and a part of his artistic process — be it for art or for acting — is ‘tuning in’ to these characters, or these pieces of his. (‘tuning in’ is a reference to timothy leary’s “tune in, turn on, drop out). i wanted that playlist to sort of reflect both that cool vibe of his, but also to show he doesn’t stick to anyone beat.

[lesser-known-composers]

Heinrich Joseph Baermann - Concertstück for clarinet in G-minor (c.1814) orchestrated by the composer Philipp Röth (1779 - 1850) Scored for 2 flutes, oboes, horns, bassoons, trumpets, trombone and strings.

Mov.I: Allegro agitato 00:00 Mov.II: Adagio 03:43 Mov.III: Allegretto 08:07

Clarinet: Dieter Klöcker Orchestra: Prague Chamber Orchestra Conductor: Milan Lajcík

[the-slumberparty]

One just squirms in their chair reading this. FOR GOOD REASON. It's so steamy and well-written as the dialogue and chemistry of the readers is so natural and realistic. And Dieter's obsession is also so well-done, he's not crazy, he just needs to get off, over and over. A real horn dog at heart. Like he said, Just because he was a whore didn’t mean he wasn’t a romantic.

Wonderful!

𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙩 || dieter bravo x camgirl!reader

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 || being quarantined in his hotel room has dieter getting a little stir crazy, and when the drugs run out, he has to find a new vice. that's how he found you.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 || 5k

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 || smut (18+ only; phone/video call sex, use of toys, male and female masturbation), sex work (obviously, look at the title), dieter being down astronomically bad with a burgeoning housewife kink, basically nothing to do with the movie he's from whatsoever it's just porn with almost no plot

(my challenge for @the-slumberparty this week was to write a fic that has a bouquet of flowers somewhere in it! leave it to me to find a way to include that in something so insanely smutty...)

He couldn’t stop watching you—both right now, in this moment, and just generally.

Right now, he couldn’t take his eyes off the way your cunt slid up and down on the glass dildo, your walls gripping every ridge and detail of the toy, your arousal coating it and running in droplets down to the base.

And for the past two weeks, your videos had been his obsession.  Maybe it technically qualified as a porn addiction—but it wasn’t just about that.  He didn’t watch anyone else, and he didn’t even jerk off every time he watched one of your videos; sometimes he just liked hearing your voice, feeling less alone in quarantine in his hotel room.

Most people just put on sitcom reruns or the local news to make a hotel room feel less empty, but that didn’t work for Dieter.  Maybe being an actor ruined the illusion of scripted TV for him—and as for the news, well, nobody would be comforted by the news these days.

So he turned to the only comfort he could rely on when all else failed: masturbation.  But he didn’t like to do it without something to watch, and normally he would just find a video he liked and work with that, but something tempted him to try a cam site… and now he was never turning back.

You weren’t the first girl he saw, it took a little scrolling, but something about your channel caught his eye.  It didn’t take even a full stream before he was addicted: you scratched every itch.

First of all, though he didn’t want to be too shallow, he couldn’t deny that your body was just his type.  It felt like he could stare at you naked for hours and never get bored—and it drove him crazy that he couldn’t touch you, couldn’t turn you around and look at every inch of you.  Instead he just had to lay back and let you show what you wanted; in a way, it was like a dominance thing—he was a victim to your whims, he could only get what you offered and that was it. 

That said, you never left him wanting, that was the second thing he couldn’t resist about you.  Your videos were… indulgent, maybe that’s the word he was looking for: it was so much more than just a girl rubbing herself in front of the camera and calling it a night.  You spent a while talking with the viewers and reacting to comments, sometimes while undressing if you weren’t already naked; then, you upped the ante bit by bit, teasing yourself and him until it finally culminated in you bringing yourself to the peak over and over—until neither of you could take anymore.  He wasn’t just satisfied after watching you, he was exhausted, in the best way.

And lastly, this one was probably just him projecting, but you seemed… sweet?  Kinky, sure, but with something real about you—kinda that girl-next-door vibe.  Maybe it was because you started some of your videos in normal clothes—not lingerie, not a sexy nurse outfit or whatever people are into these days—just a baggy band t-shirt and shorts or an old hoodie and pajama pants.  It was hard not to imagine you as his girlfriend during those streams.  Actually, once he let himself do it, he couldn’t stop—and it got him harder than anything else.

Perhaps Dieter had a bit of a reputation, and most would say he wasn’t very… sentimental with women.  They wouldn’t be wrong, but they’d be misunderstanding him a bit.  Truth be told, he was a pretty sensitive guy, and he’d always wanted a real relationship, it was just difficult with his career.  Love is sort of like eating healthy: maybe you like to cook, maybe you like green beans and chicken breasts, but when a bag of potato chips is right there, you know what you’re probably gonna end up eating.

And Dieter really did go through ‘em like potato chips.  It was easier that way.  He got used to expressing his emotions through acting, and when emotions become your career, it’s a lot harder to be vulnerable for free.

Sometimes he wished he’d met you in person, somehow.  (Then again, right now he was wishing he could meet anyone in person.)  But if he’d met you in person, he would’ve probably just hit on you, convinced you to sleep with him, and then gone back to his same old habits—you would’ve just been another meaningless night.  Instead he was trapped in this hotel, using his laptop like a window to the outside world, and you had become his vice.  Even drugs couldn’t do for him what you could; the high you brought him was incomparable.

He told you just as much; sure, he felt like kind of a loser, but he started commenting on your streams hoping to get a reaction.  I think I’m addicted to your videos.  It was just one in a long string of adoring, horny comments that floated up alongside your video that day as you were casually touching yourself—one hand teasing your breast, pinching and circling the nipple, the other between your legs as you gently rubbed your clit.  You hadn’t noticed his comment that time—or if you had, you didn’t say anything—but the next time, you saw it.  You’d been using a vibe, taking it on and off your clit so you could edge yourself: that alone was a feat of self-discipline he couldn’t imagine.  Can’t wait to see you cum, he’d written, too worked up himself to really wonder if it was clever or interesting.

You smiled, a little breathless laugh coming out more through your nose than your mouth.  “Can’t wait to see you cum,” you repeated, “me either, buddy.  Shit.  Need to come so bad.”

Hearing you read his comment made him actually anxious—like an adrenaline rush, like when he was a kid and hadn’t gotten rid of his stage fright yet.  You had such an effect on him; his heart was still racing when he finally came—he managed to wait until you did, only because he didn’t start jerking off until the last minute.  Having to keep his throbbing dick out of his hand was an enormous task, but he knew that once he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop.  And it was worth it, to come with you; he loved hearing your moans as you came, imagining how you’d sound if he was fucking you—imagining all his come painting your stomach or ass or even going inside you…

And now, right now, he was imagining that last thing—imagining filling you with his come.  You rode that glass dildo beautifully, and when he moved his hand at just the right pace, he could watch and feel the way you would ride him.

“Mm, y’like that?” you moaned, looking back at the camera—damn, if you looked back at him like that while you were on his cock he’d be a fucking goner.

“Yeah,” he panted, in real life, because responding to you aloud was a bad habit when he was close to coming.

“Wanna come in me?” you encouraged, and he bit his lip as he nodded; he wanted to shut his eyes from the pleasure, but he couldn’t miss a second of you picking up the pace as you bounced on the toy.  “Wanna fucking come inside me?”

“Yes, fuck, yes,” he panted out, starting to fuck up into his hand when your pace felt teasingly slow (even though it was already getting so much faster).

“C’mon baby, I want it—come in me, nice and deep,” you begged, voice getting shakier as your own orgasm neared.  “Can you come with me?  Please?  Just fill me up right as you make me come—fuck, so good—”

“God, baby,” he whined, tightening up his stomach to try not to come instantly.  Thankfully, he only had to hold out a few more seconds before he heard you start to make those undeniable moans: when you came, you were loud.  He fucking loved that.

“Yes, yes!” you screamed, and he swore he could see the way your pussy squeezed that toy, he could see the shiver that ran up your spine—he’d give anything to feel that squeeze on his cock, to feel that shiver under his hands…

Come painted his hand, splattering onto his chest and thighs; if only he’d had the thought in advance to take his robe off entirely before he did this, now he was going to have to send some very shameful laundry to the front desk.

“Fuck, that was intense,” you laughed breathlessly as you started to recover.  He could tell you were still a bit shaky as you lifted yourself off the dildo— and he winced, the last drop of come squeezing out of his slit, when he saw the way your pussy was left gaping for juuust a moment by the toy.  Then one squeeze and it was like you were back to normal; she’s fucking incredible, he thought to himself, finally taking his hand off of his softening dick.

Panting, he felt the slightest tinge of shame in the back of his mind.  Not just shame, actually, but loneliness: he watched you smile and turn to face the camera again, reading the slew of filthy praises in your comments, and he just wished it was the two of you— in real life, alone, holding each other…

But this was easier, this was so much easier.  Being alone meant there was no one here to judge him, and that was worth having no one to wrap up in his arms in a time like this.

As he snagged a tissue from the bedside table to wipe himself off, he listened to you read and react to some comments.  “Thanks, guys,” you beamed as you were overwhelmed with so hot and I just came so hard and you’re perfect.  “You flatter me, stop it…”

He had to bite his lip when you started to play with your own tits, seemingly out of nowhere.

“They’re so sensitive after I come,” you explained with a giggle, then a moan as you pinched and teased the buds.  “Have any of you ever tried that?  Playing with your nipples?”

Dieter laughed as the comments poured in: what? that’s fucking gay all the way to I’m doing it right now for you my queen

“Oh god, has it been an hour already?  I think I need to hop off, guys,” you announced.

Instantly the chat was flooded with pleas of don’t go!! and ten more minutes and how much do we tip for more time?

“If anybody wants to keep the conversation going, private chats are on sale on my page right now,” you explained with a friendly smile.  “But if not I’ll see you tomorrow!  Or, you’ll see me.”

With a flirty wave to the camera, the image froze and blurred; STREAM ENDED popped up on the screen.  It was already trying to suggest other streamers live right now that he could watch, but Dieter only sighed and shut his laptop.

Seven seconds later, he opened it again.

“Private chats…” he mumbled to himself remembering what you said.  He knew that you offered other services on your page, but something about you mentioning it this time got his attention.  As he considered for a second if he should’ve washed his hands before touching the trackpad, he navigated to your page and looked at the menu of additional services for purchase.  The list was long: private chats, as you’d mentioned; custom videos anywhere from 15 minutes to a concerningly-long two hours; a subscription to daily nude pictures, sent via Snapchat; even used panties available for shipping anywhere in the US and Canada.

He was originally just going to get a custom video, but as he scrolled through more options, he saw one-on-one video chat, and he got that feeling again—the adrenaline rush.  It took him a second to even compose himself enough to read the description.

Do you hate having to share me with all the other viewers during my streams?  I’d love to have some personal time to get to know you better, and do exactly what you’ve been dreaming of.  You can use voice if that’s easier for you than text—top fans can even turn their camera on if they so desire.

A half-hour video chat was only $75— that sounded like a steal to Dieter right now— and they were available to book as soon as tomorrow.  The idea made him feel all tingly and weird, but weird in a good way.

Top fans can even turn their camera on…

His constant engagement with your page for the last couple weeks had earned him the ‘top fan’ badge.  When he imagined showing you his face, his body, he got unexpectedly anxious, though; he wasn’t a particularly shy guy, but this was a delicate issue.  What if you recognized him?  What if you were a fan?  That would be weird— in a bad way.

Or what if you were a fan and you were overcome with the need to send him free videos, free pictures, even being willing to meet up with him sometime?  That would be… convenient, certainly, in some ways; but the thought overwhelmed him, and he decided that if he was going to buy one of these chats, his camera would have to stay off.  Just not worth the trouble.

He decided something else, too; a strange instinct, but one he was too deep in his post-orgasmic haze to resist.  He wanted to send you a gift.  Mostly, he hoped it would set him apart from other viewers— give you two something to talk about during that call.  If he bought you a toy from your wishlist, maybe you could use it for the first time for him… that would be incredibly hot.

Or maybe he’d buy you something more normal, like a nice throw pillow for the bed you laid on for some of your videos… the domesticity of that certainly attracted him.

But then, he had a simpler idea.  When in doubt while giving a gift to a woman, why not stick to the classics, right?

There was a P.O. Box for fanmail and gifts on your page, and he pulled up another tab to search: can you send flowers to a po box?

Just because he was a whore didn’t mean he wasn’t a romantic.

~

“I have to say, I get a lot of gifts… never gotten flowers before.”

His heart warmed to hear you say that— but it didn’t stop racing.  This felt different: having you here, in only a t-shirt and panties as he’d seen you many times, but knowing it was just for him… he loved it, but it was a little scary.  In a good way.  “Do you like them?” he asked.

“Yeah!” you smiled, fiddling with the stems as the vase sat beside you.  “Pink roses, lilies, orchids… you’re gonna spoil me, Hector.”

(Yes, he gave you his real name.  Ironically, he used it to hide who he actually was— but he liked hearing you say it.)

“Not that I mind,” you added with a wink.  “Do you mind if I have these in the background of my next stream?  They'll match the toy I'm gonna use."

"O-oh, yeah, sure,” he choked.  “What toy are you gonna use?”

You smirked a little, to the point that he almost felt stupid for asking that— but you didn’t mind showing him, in fact you had it ready and showed the baby-pink toy off for him.  His throat got a little tighter when he saw the U-shape of the toy; didn’t take a genius to imagine where that would go… and already his mind was jumping ahead to how you’d look with those silicone ends penetrating both your holes—

“Looks like fun,” he managed to get out, and you looked pretty proud of yourself for making him a bit flustered.

“Do you wanna turn your camera on?” you offered suddenly after you’d set the toy aside.  “No pressure, of course.”

He went through a whole rollercoaster when you asked that.  Because yes, he did—sort of.  But would it just make things more complicated?  What if you were uncomfortable with him being famous, thought he might expose you or something—or, more concerningly, what if you exposed him?  Or what if you just berated him with dumb fan questions when he was trying to forget about his life right now?  “Uh,” he stalled, “is it okay if I don’t, this time?”

“Of course, it’s all up to you,” you replied.  “I’m just a little curious… you have a sexy voice.  Gotta wonder if it matches.”

He didn’t even know if you would think he was sexy—he certainly hoped so, but maybe you had a type of your own.  Maybe you were a lesbian, how should he know?  “Thanks,” he hummed, “you too—but, you know, all of you is sexy.”

“Aw shucks,” you said as you struck a pose, putting your hands under your chin and batting your eyes to complete the sarcastic impression of innocence.  He laughed, and it reminded him why your videos were so special— ‘cause you made him laugh like that.  “You know, a lot of people book these chats because they have a specific kink they want me to try for them,” you explained.  “What about you?  Why’d you book this?”

“Is it weird if I just… kinda wanted to talk to you?”

His heart skipped when he saw your reaction—the shy, tender smile that appeared on your face.  “No, that’s not weird,” you replied, and for some reason it was how incredibly sweet you looked right then that made his cock jump in his boxers.  “We can talk about whatever you want.”

“Can we talk about you?”

“Not much to talk about,” you shrugged, smirking a bit; of course you were teasing him, he didn’t even mind.

“I really doubt that,” he chuckled.  “Is this your only job?  Do you do anything else?”

“I, uh, used to do something else,” you answered, “but then they found out about this.”

“Oh, that sucks…”

“Nah, worked out for the best.  Started making way more when I had more time to put into it,” you nodded.  “I like this a lot better, actually.  No sick leave, but no dress code, either.”

“Yeah, that’s a plus,” he nodded, even though you couldn’t see him.

“What about you?  What do you do?”

“Um… I’m an actor,” he replied.  He considered lying, but couldn’t come up with anything else.

“Oh, that’s really cool!” you smiled.  “Wouldn’t have seen you in anything, would I?”

“Probably not,” he laughed off your question.  “Do you, um, have any hobbies?  You must not have a lot of spare time, with people paying for chats and custom videos and all…”

“I take a few days off, here and there,” you nodded, “mostly I just like movies and stuff.”

That made him even more anxious that you would know who he was.  He still hadn’t decided if that would be a good thing or a bad thing, though.

“I like to cook,” you added. 

It was starting to feel like you were intentionally targeting his newly developed girlfriend fetish.  Instantly his mind was flooded with all this domestic bullshit: shopping with you for ingredients, coming home to a fresh dinner, waking up to you in the kitchen wearing his shirt and flipping pancakes.  “I like to eat,” Dieter replied, “we’re so compatible.”

You laughed, and if this was all just some act where you pretended to think he was funny and interesting, it was the best acting he’d seen in a while.  “Are you flirting?” you noticed, raising an eyebrow as if to point out how fitting-yet-bizarre it was for him to be hitting on you—because he didn’t need to, you were his for the half-hour regardless.  But he liked this better, and he loved making you laugh.

“Maybe,” he offered cryptically in return.

“Is that what the flowers were for?  Are you trying to seduce me?” you accused with a grin.

“Those were just to get your attention,” he admitted.

“Hector, honey,” you cooed, making his heart skip.  “You already have my attention.”

That excited him and his dick, which was now making a tent in his boxers as it waited for some of your promised attention; somehow, just casually-flirtatious conversation with you was almost hotter to him than the usual stuff.  Maybe he was just a little burnt out on all that by now— because talking to you had become much more valuable than seeing you naked.

“Just tell me one thing about you,” you bargained.

“Alright,” he agreed.

“Are you hard?”

He swallowed.  “Yeah,” he admitted, his voice sounding weaker than he meant it to.  You smirked a little.

“We don’t have to,” you assured him, “but if you’re interested, why don’t we get off together, hm?  Does that sound okay?”

Was it a good sign that you were initiating this, or did it just mean you were getting impatient with him?  God, it didn’t matter—he was gonna do whatever you wanted.  “Okay,” he answered.  “Yeah—that sounds… more than okay.”

Biting your lip slightly, the way you looked at the camera almost made him feel like you were sizing him up—even though all you could see was a black screen.  “Are you touching your cock already?”

“N-no, I… I still have boxers on,” he replied.  “Should I?”

“No, you should rub it a little through the boxers,” you instructed.  “That’s what I’m gonna do—touch my clit through these panties.  It’s even more sensitive when I do that, don’t ask me how.”

“R-right, okay,” he nodded.  He already liked taking instructions from you more than he thought he would.  His hand spread out over the bulge in the cotton, a sigh slipping from his lips as he started to find the right amount of pressure so he wouldn’t get too into it too fast.

His eyes were transfixed on the way you spread your legs, and he swore your panties already looked a little damp…

Your finger traced delicately over the seam of your pussy, and his balls tightened up at the way you sighed as you teased yourself.  “You should play with your tits, too,” he informed you, his own voice sounding shaky as he tried to hold back from just getting his cock out and jerking off as fervently as he wanted to.

“You’re just full of good ideas, huh?” you joked, taking your free hand and pinching yourself through your shirt.

“Then here’s another one for you,” he offered, “take something off.”

“Shirt or panties?” you asked.

“Dealer’s choice.”

You smiled and surprised him by lifting your hips, pulling your underwear down your thighs before kicking them off to the side.  For some reason, even though he gave you the choice, he expected you to take the shirt off first; and there was something surprisingly sexy about you still having that casual t-shirt on and nothing else.  (Likely, it was because it made it easier to imagine you just wearing one of his shirts…)

It added a new thrill to the now-familiar sight of your pussy— not that he ever got bored of that view.  “Can you— can you spread it for me?” he panted, nearly whimpering when you took two fingers and scissored apart your lips.  “Fuck, got such a pretty hole, baby…”

He saw it flex as you heard the compliment, and he couldn’t help but moan quietly.  “Yeah?  Have you thought about how good it would feel?” you encouraged with a sigh.  “How good this hole would feel on your cock?”

“Every fucking day,” he promised.  

“Then take it out,” you instructed breathily.  “Start touching your cock, and think about what it would be like if I was there touching you instead.”

Though he was glad to do as you’d said, pulling his throbbing erection from his boxers with a sigh, he had to disobey one of your commands.  “No, m’thinking about a lot more than that,” he replied, and you cracked a smile as you rubbed your clit faster.  “Thinking about being— fuck— inside you…”

You hummed happily; after all that teasing, he was so sensitive and worked up that it felt like he was already fighting to hold himself back.  He certainly couldn’t keep his pace down— right away he was stroking himself quickly, struggling to keep it together.

“Thinking about how fucking tight you are,” he added with a groan, loving the little whimper you let out in return.

“Hector, baby,” you moaned, and he hadn’t heard that name said that way in a very long time.  “This might be over sooner than I thought if you talk like that…”

“Good,” he decided, “it’s not gonna take me very long, either— you always make me like that.”

“How would you fuck me?” you asked, panting, rocking your hips against your hand.  “Tell me how you’d fuck me, baby.”

“Fuck, I—hard,” he choked out.  “So fucking hard—”

“Mm,” you moaned encouragingly.

“And I’d eat you out,” he decided, “before and after.  I’ve been dying to know how your pussy tastes.”

“After, huh?  Is that with your come inside?” you wondered.  “Or did you wanna come on my tits?”

“Inside,” he groaned.  “I’d eat my—fuck—eat my come out of you, I don’t care.”

“That’s dirty,” you purred, “I like it.  I like a man who can clean up his mess.”

“Never liked coming inside that much until I started watching your streams,” he admitted.  “Now it’s all I can think about—coming inside you.”

“Fuck,” you moaned, “want you to think about that when you come for me now, okay?  Can you do that?”

“Yeah,” he promised, moving his hand faster and feeling that tension in his gut that told him the breaking point was approaching.

“Think about filling me up,” you continued, “giving me all that come, so deep inside—”

“Fuck,” he hissed, “are you close too?”

“Baby, I’ve been trying not to come since we fucking started,” you admitted— and maybe it was a lie, but he bought it joyously.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he gasped, “I’m gonna come so hard— fuck yes— gonna come for you…”

“Do it,” you begged, “I want you to, I want you to come, Hector.”

“You— you should come, too,” he countered with a shaking gasp, his cock already starting to flex as he knew he was seconds away from losing it.

“I will,” you promised with a smile, your voice itself turning every word into a moan, “I’m gonna come with you, baby, fuck— lemme hear it, wanna hear you come—”

He came with a grunt, squeezing down on his cock with his fist as come launched out in long pulses; “F-fuck, I’m coming, ahhh fuck,” he narrated— normally he wouldn’t say something like that, but you had asked to hear it, so…

“Me too, I— oh!” you shouted, and he watched with heavy eyes as you tossed your head back, hips rocking up into nothing— your hand was a blur over your pussy but he swore he could see it pulsing and clenching, creamy slick leaking slowly from your hole.

The last of his come came out as a fat droplet running down his shaft, making his fingers unpleasantly sticky as the ringing in his ears subsided and he began to slowly come back to reality.  You were panting, pushing yourself just a bit further until your whole body jolted and you quickly pulled your hand away.

“God,” you groaned, “that was… draining.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, laughing a little at how wrecked his own voice sounded.  

“I wish I could just, like, take a nap right now,” you admitted with a tired grin.

“I mean, you could— we’re almost out of time…” he noticed.

“No, I— yeah, I could, but I have something after this,” you replied, and he felt a little twist in his chest.  He didn’t blame you at all for it, but it made him jealous to think of you hopping right on to your next call— it made him feel like he was just one of your thousands of fans, which is not how he wanted you to think of him at all.

“Another call?” he assumed.

“No, just private chats,” you corrected, which somehow made him feel a little bit better, “and I should probably post a few things for my Snapchat— we’ll see.  I will definitely need a break before my stream tonight, though… will I see you there?  Proverbially?”

He smiled a little.  “Yeah, definitely.”

“Drink plenty of fluids before then,” you winked.  “Thanks for calling, Hector… I hope we can do this again sometime.”

It’s an upsell, she’s not actually into you, she’s not actually into you, he tried to force himself to believe.  But it was so much easier, so much more fun, to imagine that you really liked him— that those flowers stood out enough for you to realize that he’s different.

You both said your polite goodbyes and the call ended.  He was definitely sleepier than he anticipated after all that— you said you were, too, which made him just want to have you here even more so you could fall asleep on his shoulder and he wouldn’t have to be alone in this bed for the seemingly-thousandth time in a row.

Exhausted to the bone, some impossible mix of satisfied and starving for more of you, Dieter sighed and shut his laptop.

Seven seconds later, he opened it again.  He wanted to book his next video call before he passed out.

~

thank you so much for reading! if you're interested in a second part to this, please let me know by reblogging or maybe even leaving a comment! you can read my other works for pedro pascal characters here or check out my full masterlist here