#they know. you know. the actors and the writers know. but it would be a cop out to just SAY it

[sunshinehaze1]

About Last Night…

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x f!reader

Summary: You met The Dieter Bravo last night, but does he remember meeting you?

Warnings: 18+, MDNI. smut, handjob, f!oral, unprotected PiV, mentions of drug use, reader has hair long enough to tug, smoking

a/n: This was written for @jolapeno Dear-uary Challenge and I received this prompt. Thank you to @peepawispunk & @80ssong for their beta reads! 😘 I hope you enjoy!

word count: 1,744

ao3 | ml

Dieter groans, turns onto his side, and opens his eyelids to find two ibuprofen tablets and a glass of water on his bedside table. He's unsure how he even managed to get to his bed. He can't remember much of last night; as usual, he drank too much, smoked too much, and snorted too much. He knows he needs to get his partying under control; he's not keen on another stint in rehab or being the subject of more tabloid fodder. His team would be grateful, too. But he enjoys it too much. He loves hosting parties at his house and having access to beautiful men and women who want to shower him with adoration and attention. Aspiring actors, writers, and producers all want a piece of him. It's not easy to give those perks up—one of the benefits of being an actor in high demand.

The tablets are sitting atop a slip of paper. He picks them up and throws them back, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows, emptying the glass of water in a couple of gulps. He picks up the slip of paper, his thick thumb and index finger grip the note, and he admires the neat handwriting as he reads:

image text: D- you may not remember much, so let me refresh your memory. This may be where I left you, but we’ll start where we first met. Even with the stroke of a hand and gripping conversation, this place is the pits.

Dieter, confused, rereads the note. Who did he meet last night that would have left this note? As usual, his house was overflowing with people. Most were friends or people he'd worked with in the industry; surely, it wasn't one of them. His friends tend to bring along their friends, and those friends bring their friends, and soon, his Hollywood Hills home is overrun with strangers.

He pulls on his green robe and exits the bedroom, traipsing over the remnants of the night before. Dodging obstacles of empty glasses, discarded clothing, ashtrays filled with cigarette butts and roaches, coffee tables dusted in white powder, and rolled up hundred dollar bills. A record spins around the player, scratching and skipping with each rotation. People in various states of undress are scattered across the floor and couches.

He finally reaches the conversation pit—avocado green cushions accented with cream and mustard yellow pillows. He descends the carpeted stairs, still unsure what kind of wild goose chase he's being led on. As he straightens the pillows, a slip of paper dances through the air when he moves them around. Dieter bends down to pick it up after it floats to the ground. Suddenly, a flash of recollection races across his mind.

A vision of you and him, bodies close together, barely any space between you two. Your arm draped over his shoulders, and your hand in his lap gripped tightly around his cock. Your hands make languid strokes along his length as you purr into his ear, teasing him. He's impossibly hard, and his eyes scan the party to see if anyone has noticed his precarious situation. A rush of heat skates up his chest to his neck as the risk of getting caught arouses him. You coo, "Baby, you're so hard, I can barely wrap my hand around you."

A moan falls out of Dieter's mouth, his gaze occupied by your grasp on his length. He watches as you continue your lazy strokes, the waistband of his pants resting just below his balls. Your movements are hidden by his fluffy teddy bear coat that he has positioned over his lap but not shielded from his view. He's mesmerized by the lacquer on your nails and the reflection of light that bounces off them with each pass along his cock. He feels arousal roil in his belly, and his balls begin to tighten.

Breathily, he spits out, "I'm going to cum."

Squeezing him tighter before you quickly release him, "Not yet, you aren't." You lean in and kiss him on the cheek, "I need a smoke." you giggle as you tuck his still painfully hard dick back into his pants and pull away.

He hears that sweet sound in his mind, and his cock twitches at the memory. Eager to find out what's next on this salacious tour, he reads the note:

image text: orange and bright, this is the perfect place to get a light.

Dieter was drawn to this home because of the mid-century modern architecture, and he leaned into the aesthetic. Much of the decor is original to the house, including the burnt orange malm fireplace on his back patio.

He heads outside. The sun is now high in the sky, having slept the morning away. Dieter squints to avoid the torture of the sun's rays on his brutal hangover. As he approaches the seating area around the fireplace, he spots a slip of notebook paper under an ashtray littered with discarded butts and blunts on the table.

It prompts his memory. After you left him with blue balls in the conversation pit, you dragged him outside for a smoke. He walked closely behind you with his hands on your hips to conceal his erection as you navigated through the party crowd. His dick was aching, desperate for release. But his curiosity to know more about you was enough of a distraction for now.

He observes you taking a drag from the cigarette between your soft lips. "How long have you lived here?" you inquire as you purse your lips to exhale the smoke up and to the side, away from his face.

"Um, a few years now. I bought it after Cliffs Beasts 6." His eyes rake up and down your body, taking in your curves and the disarming smile that spreads across your face.

"I liked that movie."

Dieter scoffs, unbelieving someone like you would enjoy the movie, let alone see it. It was a flop, an example of a studio trying to milk everything out of a franchise at any expense. There is no way you actually liked the movie.

"No, really, I did." There's that smile again; he knew then that he was done for, his body warmed by the sincerity in your eyes.

Chuckling to himself at the memory, he looks down at the slip of paper, which reads:

image text: I cried out, with your tongue inside, while the Kid sang about Nikki.

Dieter enters his music room, eyeing the wall of his record collection. His fingers dance along the spines of the album covers until he finds Purple Rain. Carefully, he pulls the record out of its sleeve and watches as another slip of paper falls to the ground. He replaces the spinning record and gently places the needle onto the vinyl, A-side up.

The castle started spinning

Or maybe it was my brain

I can't tell you what she did to me

But my body will never be the same

The images of last night in this room flood his mind. You, on your back, laid across the faux fur rug. It was as vivid as if you were there with him right now. Your shapely legs stretched out in front of you, with your perfect pussy glistening in the dim lamplight. His body prone with his face between your thighs, inhaling your scent. He laps into your sweet heat, his tongue teasing through your folds and flicking over your clit. His forearms wrapped around your thighs to hold you in place when you begin to writhe, pushing your core into his face, chasing your orgasm.

Oh, her lovin' will kick your behind

Oh, she'll show you no mercy

But she'll sure enough, sure enough

Show you how to grind

He laps at your release while you cry out his name, unable to control the rutting of his hips against the rug, searching for relief from his aching, throbbing cock. He's been on edge for the last couple of hours, patiently waiting for his release.

At the memory, he realizes he can still taste you on his lips. It's faint, but it's enough to make his cock move. Having sobered up a bit more, he's intrigued to find out where he'll be led next and picks up the piece of paper:

image text: you’ll find this journey come to a close in the place where you like to powder your nose…

Dieter walks down the hall to his bathroom. Vintage aqua blue tiles cover the floor, shower, and halfway up the wall, trimmed in navy blue tiles. The mirror above the matching pedestal sink is covered in writing—a phone number in red lipstick with handwriting that matches the notes—your phone number. Thanks to you and this little scavenger hunt you sent him on, he's slowly pieced together his night with you. He may not remember it all, but his senses help, recalling the feel of your soft, silken skin, your floral perfume, and the way you taste. And he's transported back.

He pictures you bent over the sink as he slides down your panties. Tugging your hair as he slides his cock inside you from behind. Remembering the gasps and moans, you couldn't help but release as he thrust into your warm, wet heat. Rubbing your swollen clit as you approach your second climax, nibbling on your ear, which finally sends you over the edge. Your walls fluttered around him, squeezing his cock so tight he had to pull out quickly to paint his spend across your bare ass. His sweaty brow meets yours, the both of you gasping to catch your breath as he leaves a chaste kiss on the tip of your nose.

His dick was now half hard at the memory.

He pulls his phone out of his robe pocket and opens the camera app. He points it toward the mirror as he takes in his disheveled state: hair tousled and astray, light brown curls pointing in every direction. He notices a stain down the front of his grey tunic and his striped pants slung low on his hips. He does little to improve his appearance before he snaps a picture, tongue wagging, eyes wide, making sure his semi-hard cock is captured in the frame.

He types the number you left on the mirror and attaches the photo.

"I found you."

A couple of minutes later, his phone pings, "It's about damn time; I've been waiting all morning for you. 😉"

Thank you so much for reading! I’d love to know what you think. Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. 🫶🏼

tagging a few folks who may be interested in reading: @baronessvonglitter @almostempty @ak-vintage @kilamonster (lemme know if you prefer I not clog your notifs)

[thetimelordbatgirl]

Imagine actually being so evil that you'd rather make sure your writers suffer financially instead of just paying them the pay they deserve. Hell truly has some seats reserved already, holy shit.

[dennisboobs]

:) i certainly have no issue dressing in drag :)

^guy who has no issue dressing in drag btw

glenn said that dennis' drag name is victoria von hemen btw

(Source)

[muffinlance]

Do you get the impression the live action is treating us like utter morons?? Like I thought that making it aimed at an older audience would open the doors for more subtle story telling, but no, they're just using monologues to tell us eveything! Like in the second episode Katara's like 'oh his power isn't that he's the avatar, it's that he ~connects~ to people'. Girl we're not idiots we can see that!! And the first episode with Aang's goddawful 'I don't want this responsibility' monologue

THIS, YES. The word that keeps coming to mind is definitely "subtlety". The show for literal children? Had it. The remake for adults? Not so much.

[maya-caffrey]

can we bring back procedurals? or at least just proper shows like how TV used to be? 5 to 15 seasons, a generous amount of episodes per season, 45 minutes: the sweet spot between too long and too short, pilot episodes that are wildly different from the rest of the show, filler episodes that overall contribute nothing but are extremely fun because that is what god intended, random musical episode, crossovers, waiting an entire week in anticipation to see what happens next, like, this was the PEAK of television, where did we go wrong

[rhcenyra]

YELLOWJACKETS ⇢ 1x01 | PILOT

[stewyhosseini-bf]

Honestly think what’s devastating about Ken snapping at Tom for the ‘you sound a little unhinged’ line was that I never would’ve expected that reaction cause that wasn’t even the worst thing Tom’s said to shiv, even just that day. You kinda forget it’s all happening behind closed doors cause we, the audience, see it all, so for Ken to lose his shit at him over it is just like �� a reality check ig

[gayhotpriests]

i don't think chimney or hen of all people would have kept in touch with tommy if he was racist and/or misogynistic. we've have heard all lou and the cast has had to say regarding tommy's history and behavior under captain gerrard, but i personally don't even care about that, because i choose to trust the characters we've known for years and whose judgement should be our compass in this situation.

[inknopewetrust]

every writing community should be standing in solidarity — if not actively protesting — with the wga right now.

and it’s honestly sickening to see people saying a.i. and other formats could create good work to replace what these beautiful humans create.

[fingertipsmp3]

Also I feel like I have to say this but FUCK Toy Story 4. Awful movie, bad execution, poor excuse for a sequel.

[lesbiansplaining]

not to bring tiktok drama on tumblr but like every time a ‘scandal’ comes out with one of these ‘production companies’ that make fan films i always hope we’re finally gonna discuss how they professionalize something that should be an hobbyist endeavor… and yet every single time i’m disappointed.

[dkettchen]

You ever think about how the majority of cishet men who either write or star in popular media whose fandoms go absolutely wild (being degenerates) in ways that influence not only international fandom media but even seep into traditional/budgeted/industry media probably don't realise just how much their characters specifically had to do with that, like even the ones that are vaguely aware of and uncomfortable with the way fandom ships them or whatever, they don't know, they don't know what they've done, they don't knowww

[jdorian]

i love how the imdb reviews can no longer tell you if an episode was good, but you can totally tell which ship had more prominent moments in it based on them

[cator99]

I always get detained at da border because PROFUNC never ended but basically I'm like if a targeted individual didn't even care

[gwensy]

gonna be annoying in the tags

[accio-victuuri]

hongling, when you get this letter, i have returned to beijing. i didn’t tell you in advance cause i don’t want you to be in a dilemma because of me. right from the beginning at shichahai, we’ve been stuck in this cycle. ideal or reality? compromise with life or follow your heart? we are like two parallel lines trying to get closer to each other. but it seems that there is always a long distance in between. we gained too much and also missed too much. when i look back on those years, it’s like the outside world has been pushing us to change. but now it’s time for us to choose the life we want to pursue.

I hope you choose me but i also hope you choose the life you want. I hope you can realize your dream. I support your choice and wish you good luck, no matter where this choice will take us. hongling, i will have my own path in the future, but whatever happens i hope we can march firmly on the path we choose.

{ where dreams begin episode 20 }