#Dieter Bravo
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Today is World Book Day
#pascalispunk#pedropascal#casillero del diablo#the red viper#the last of us#frankie morales#the unbearable weight of massive talent#dieter bravo#strange way of life
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salt, shot, lime
➔ Dieter Bravo x afab!Reader
➔ 2.3k words
➔ You meet your celebrity crush in a bar; he turns out to be a lot more fun than you expected.
➔ Rated MA for protected p in v, public sex acts/public nudity (they fuck in a bar y’all), body shots/alcohol consumption, pet names (baby, honey, sweetheart) // reader has female anatomy (afab - no pronouns used), wears a bra, is generally able-bodied but is otherwise a blank slate.
“Go on. Don’t be shy.”
Your fingers work slowly at the buttons of your blouse, so readily and eagerly baring yourself to this man who–for all intents and purposes–is a complete stranger.
He’s familiar, though; to you, not the other way around. Dieter Bravo lives very publicly, after all. You follow him on Instagram and Twitter; you see bits and pieces of his life throughout yours. When he approached you at the bar, he had no clue who you were. But you knew him.
And now he’s eyeing you over the rims of his sepia-lensed sunglasses, ringed fingers idly tracing the rim of the empty shot glass that sits on the counter next to him. He looks at you like he wants to know you, and that’s exactly why you’re in this position.
This is crazy. This shouldn’t be happening at all. But he’s hot, and he’s interested in you. And you’re not nearly drunk enough to not understand the risks and consequences associated.
You can see the gulp that traces down his throat as you set your shirt on the counter and it gives you the willpower you need to keep from crossing your arms over your chest to cover yourself. Dieter fucking Bravo is effected just from this simple view of you in your cute yet simple bra, and it’s the headiest confidence boost you’ve ever received.
“You’re so pretty, baby.” His voice is breathless, lips parted in awe. “Fuck.”
The bartender clearing his throat and setting down a tray next to Dieter’s right hand is enough to snap the actor out of his dazed reverie. Dieter clears his throat and wrenches his eyes away from your half-naked torso, scanning the contents of the tray before humming his satisfaction.
“Ready, honey?” He asks, and you hum your approval as you lean back over the bar.
This is the first time you’ve done this, and you don’t think Dieter follows standard protocol. Or maybe he does—it’s not like you would really know, this isn’t your typical Saturday night activity—but there’s hardly anything that can be called standard about the way his wet tongue laves quickly and wetly over your sternum to give the salt something to stick to. Just that little bit of contact is enough to make you squirm, and it takes every out of restraint you possess to sit still for him as he pours the shot into the dip of your belly button.
It’s messy and sticky and not very comfortable, especially when you position the lime between your lips, but you’ve never been so turned on in your life.
He gives you a look—dark and pleading—and you take a deep, aroused breath as you nod your consent.
Again, his tongue is between your breasts, but this time it’s languid. He takes his time and flattens the length of the muscle against your skin to collect every last grain of salt.
Then he purses his lips and slurps the tequila from your belly button—but really, all you can focus on in the moment is the weight of his hand resting dangerously high on your thigh under the guise of steadying himself. His fingertips are so close yet so achingly far from where you’re wettest, and the smirk on his face says he knows it.
Finally, after a moment that seems to last at least three years, he moves up your body and bites into the lime waiting between your lips.
With him this close you can smell the heady, woodsy scent of his cologne, and it only serves to turn you on further as he sucks the juice from the tart fruit.
The way he takes the lime from you with his teeth and spits it out on the countertop should be a crime but you really can’t be fucked about it because suddenly he’s kissing you. You could isolate all three flavors on his tongue if you cared to, but you don’t in the slightest. All you can really focus on is those hands as they slide up your sides and come to rest at the base of your skull, thumbs swiping simultaneously over your cheeks to anchor you while he licks deeper into your mouth.
The cocky bastard actually smirks against your lips when you moan. The sound is soft but it only serves to motivate him; he shoves his tongue deep into your mouth like he’s trying to lick your molars as your hands wind around his neck to tug him closer to you.
And then, just as suddenly as he started kissing you, he pulls away.
“Your turn, sweetheart.” There’s just a faint little smirk to his lips, but it’s enough to make you want to smack him. It’s also enough to make you want to suck him so deep into your throat that he never fully recovers.
And fuck, you really want to tell him fuck it and ask if he wants to get out of here, but you also want to give him a taste of his own medicine.
You nod to the bartender, who sets down another shot for you. And then you nod to Dieter’s chest, and he starts tugging his baggy shirt over his head without a word.
He’s pretty. You’ve always admired his physique, sure, but it’s even better in person. There’s an unkempt quality to the smattering of hair on his lower stomach, and the soft curve of his belly has you eager to get your hands on him.
You haven’t even gotten your shot yet, but you’re hoping and praying that he’ll want to drag you into the bathroom to have his way with you after this.
He leans back and lets you prep him–smiling slightly at how careful and neat you are about laying the salt and pouring the shot. There’s a tender reverence in your touch that makes his heart pound in a way it hasn’t in years.
“You good?” You ask, looking into his dark eyes when he takes off his sunglasses, neatly folds them, and sets them on the bar.
You watch his throat bob around a thick swallow, and then he nods; and you can’t help the sick satisfaction you feel over how breathless he already is. Too easy.
You make a point of dragging your nails over his treasure trail, under the guise of steadying yourself, as you lick the salt from his firm chest. You spend a little more time there than strictly necessary; but you want to get him clean, after all. And if your tongue trails off course to drag over a taut nipple–
“Oh, fuck!” His voice is muffled from the lime wedge perched between his lips; he’s so sensitive that his hips actually jolt at your ministration, but your hand on his lower belly steadies him to assure his shot isn’t wasted. “Baby that’s not fair–”
His protest is breathy and trails off into a useless little whine when you move down to suck the tequila from his belly button. You can actually see the way his cock springs to life under his trousers in your peripheral vision, and you think you deserve an award. A big world cup-style trophy, with an inscription that reads “I made Dieter Bravo hard just from licking his fucking belly button”.
He spits the lime out before you even get a chance to taste it, but that’s okay because you’d rather taste him anyway.
His grip is firm as he cups your face in his big, meaty hands and pulls your lips to his. There’s a desperation to this kiss–a frantic meeting of lips and tongue and teeth as he tries to pull you closer to him than it’s physically possible to be. And you let him, let him take everything you so desperately want in return as you feel the scratch of his beard against your chin and the firm grip of his hands guiding the angle of your head.
“W-we should… take this somewhere more private,” you pant when you finally muster the courage to pull back for air.
He shakes his head, and you feel a twist of disappointment in your gut. But then he looks over your shoulder; you hear a deep, guttural voice–and before you know it, the entire bar is empty. Not a soul in sight, not even the bartender
“This private enough for you, honey?”
You nod dumbly, still kind of starstruck over such a powerful display of the way the entire world dances to Dieter Bravo’s tune.
He pulls you in for another deep kiss, this time backing you up into the bar counter. You can feel the insistent press of his arousal against your hip like this, and it makes you moan needily into his open mouth.
“Wanna fuck you,” he murmurs into his mouth, rolling his hips against you in a way that makes you moan again. “Please baby, lemme fuck you.”
“Fuck me,” you murmur back with a nod.
You’re definitely not normally the type that would strip down completely in the middle of a bar to fuck some man you just met, but there’s something about him that has you disregarding all common decency to toss aside your bra and wiggle out of your jeans so he can see every inch of your exposed skin.
It’s all worth it for the pleased moan he makes when he takes you in with his eyes, hungrily eating up miles and miles of flesh that he wants to touch and kiss and appreciate. But there’s not enough time, not here; so he lifts you up sideways onto the bar like you’re weightless and then presses you to lay down flat against the counter top, completely ignoring the sticky glass-sweat rings that press little cold patches into your flesh.
You get a good view of him as he loses the rest of his clothes, flinging them to the corners of the room with a ferocity that makes you giggle. The sound brings a smile to his face, too; and then he jumps up onto the sturdy bar counter with you, spreading your legs with eager hands so he can slot his hips between yours as he continues to kiss you.
“You’re so fucking hot,” he grumbles as he shamelessly ruts his hard cock against your wetness–his voice is so deep it’s almost gravelly. And then he produces a little foil packet from seemingly thin air and winks at you like a hammy cartoon character. “Safety first.”
He’s so silly it’s sexy, and he laughs with you as he presses his lips back to yours. He fumbles a little bit as he tries to roll the condom onto his impressive length while simultaneously kissing you, so you reach down with steady hands to help him; he whimpers at the way you take his girth into your hands and so easily sheathe him.
“M’not gonna last long,” he whispers as he lines up with your entrance, and you’re surprised he can’t actually feel the way it makes your cunt sob with arousal.
“That’s okay,” you reassure, one hand coming to tug firmly at the curls that compose the nape of his neck. “Just make it good.”
He nods, gently bites at your lower lip, and then he thrusts into you smoothly all the way to the hilt.
There’s a bit of a stretch to accommodate him and it makes you moan; the feeling of your tight heat sends a physical shudder down his spine.
“Oh, fuck–” he scoots his knees up further towards your ass, shoving himself as deep as he can get while simultaneously trying to let you adjust to his sudden intrusion. “Fuck, sweetheart, you feel so good–”
You feel the slight scrape of his thick curls against your clit, and it yanks a desperate little moan from your lips. “Move, Dieter, fuck me–”
He’s nothing if not obedient. The first needy little thrust is hard enough to jolt your entire body–he scoops a hand under your head to soften the blow, and then he starts moving with reckless abandon.
It’s hot, it’s sweaty, it’s desperate. He thrusts hard and deep into your soaked core, mouthing uselessly at your mouth and jaw, whimpering with each rut of his hips. He watches your face when he can actually keep his eyes open and finds the exact spot that makes you writhe and squirm underneath him, angling his hips to hit it with relentless accuracy.
He looks pussydrunk, it’s the only way to describe the expression created by his glassy eyes and his parted lips. He nuzzles his face in between your tits and looks up at you like you created the moon and the stars, like you’re something to revere. You’re scared that if he keeps looking at you like that, you’re going to fall in love with him.
“I’m close, Dieter…” you warn, the hand that's not clutching desperately at his messy hair reaching down to put your favorite kind of pressure on your clit.
He tilts his head down and watches to the best of his ability, making mental note of exactly how you like to be worked over–storing that information away for next time. He so desperately wants there to be a next time.
He feels it a second before you do and angles his hips just right to hit that toe-curlingly pleasurable spot right as you come. It sends you sky high, the way he pounds mercilessly into you while the pleasure ebbs and flows over you.
He comes hardly a minute later, grunting and whining and cursing under his breath as his balls draw up and he empties himself into the condom, shoved as deep inside you as he can physically get.
There’s a long, heavy moment of silence as you both pant and try to come down from the clouds. He scatters little feather-light kisses over your sweat-slicked chest, and then he looks up at you with those big brown puppy eyes you’re starting to adore.
“You wanna grab dinner?” He’s so earnest in asking, like he’s not balls-deep in your cunt right now.
It’s so ass-backwards that you can’t help the laughter that bubbles up your throat, but you don’t consider any other answer than, “Yeah, sure.”
It’s worth it just to see the smile that lights up his face. “Amazing.”
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#dieter bravo#dieter bravo x reader#dieter bravo smut#dieter bravo fanfiction#the bubble#the bubble fanfiction#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#cece writes
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‘Cause After Midnight…
A/N: this idea came to be randomly yesterday morning and thus the brain rot began! Idk about y’all, but I would do ANYTHING for slumber party!Dieter 🤭 big thank you to @chronically-ghosted for sharing the brain rot cell with me this week! 🫡
~word count: 8.5k~ yeaaaah idk what happened!
Summary: a slumber party with your bestie Dieter Bravo, after midnight! What could possibly happen between the two of you?
Pairing | slumber party!dieter x best friend female!reader
Warnings: smut, fluff, a little sprinkle of angst, DUBIOUS CONSENT, mentions of alcohol and ouid smoking, infidelity (not by dieter) toxic relationship (Dieter’s ex) denial of feelings, secret pining, best friends to lovers?, pussy pronouns, domestic intimacy, mutual masturbation, masturbation with a shower head (iykyk), sexual tension, language, dirty talk, unprotected piv, aftercare, reader has no physical descriptions, readers nickname is bug, +18 minors dni!
Being Dieter Bravo’s best friend since…well, forever, came with a long list of perks. Your favorite perk of all, you may ask? Getting to spend time with your best friend. Whether that was at his home, lounging side by side next to his inground pool, stumbling out of a DTLA nightclub, clammy hands entwined together as you head to the nearest street food cart ASAP (Dieter demands steak tacos when he’s wasted) or when you were his glittering gem on the red carpet, dodging the incessant questions from the red carpet wasps—I mean, interviewers asking you and Dieter if you were dating.
It was like clockwork, you and Dieter would look at one another, laugh and shake your heads in sync, “us, dating? No, you have it all wrong! We’re simply just two besties that do everything together, don’t get it twisted!” (So what if you and Dieter would sometimes get equally wasted in the club and drunkenly makeout…and sometimes, while making out, he would grope your ass beneath your dress—you were just friends! Best friends kiss like all the time…right?)
Of course, Hollywood didn’t buy it despite yours and Dieter’s repetitive denial, and the fact that Dieter was currently smitten with his girlfriend—well, ex-girlfriend now. The tabloids spewed their cheap gossip, but your friendship with Dieter never soured.
You frequently slept over on the weekends he was home. It was your shared routine from Friday-Sunday (sometimes even Mondays), you and Dieter would get higher than two kites, cross off a few movies on your watch lists, paint together, and order takeout for every meal. Truthfully, it was fucking bliss.
This weekend, in particular, Dieter decided he wanted to have a whole ass slumber party. (Not nearly as extravagant as the princess diaries slumber party, or the Barbie movie) but Dieter knew how to throw a killer intimate slumber party. He invited all of his close, niche friends including you. He already had a whole array of different foods to munch on throughout the night so that no one would go hungry.
As always, Dieter was nearly glued to your side and if it were anyone else, or any other man for that matter, you would be annoyed, but when it came to Dieter, you shared your small bubble of space happily with him.
Everything was going swimmingly, until Dieter’s ex showed up uninvited. Dieter was in the whirlpool, wearing the tiniest swim trunks known to man. He had a beer in one hand while his other arm was resting along the outside of the hot tub. He was mid conversation, laughing about something one of his friends said before his eyes met yours when you appeared from the kitchen, a nervous look plastered on your face as you approached the hot tub.
“Hey, Dee?..” you crouched down along the edge of the hot tub.
“Yeah, bug?” He took a sip of his beer, brow cocking in curiosity. “What’s up? Why do ya look so worried?”
“Oh, it’s nothing, Dee. Just uh—well, your ex just sorta showed up uninvited. She’s in the kitchen—”
“What the fuck do you mean she just sorta showed up?! What the fuck.” He groaned, dragging his wet hand across his face, squeezing his eyes shut. “I reckon she just invited herself in, too?”
Your nod confirmed his suspicions. “Unfortunately she did. I told her she wasn’t welcome, but she essentially told me to fuck off.” You stifled a laugh.
“Yeah, well, she’s never exactly been the type to respect boundaries.” He sighed and handed you his beer so that he could pull himself out of the hot tub. The swim trunks he was wearing quite literally left little to the imagination, and you swore that you caught a glimpse of his infamous package when he bent down and grabbed his towel to quickly dry off.
His hand gently brushed yours as he reached for his beer. “I’ll deal with her. Not gonna let it spoil my night.” He gruffed out and draped the towel around his shoulders. “Be back in a jiffy, bug.” He winked and headed towards the sliding doors leading to the kitchen.
When he didn’t return to the backyard in over 20 minutes, that’s when you made the executive decision to see if he was okay. When you neared the front door, you could hear the distinct tone of Dieter’s voice through the thin glass and you caught a glimpse of him throwing his hands up in exasperation.
“You can’t just fucking show up here uninvited! You’re not only trespassing, but you’re crossing a boundary! This is exactly why we broke up in the first place because you’re just so fucking clingy!” He yelled.
“Oh, I’M THE CLINGY ONE?!” She laughed, jabbing her perfectly manicured finger directly into his bare chest. “So, it has nothing to do with the fact that you spent more time with your best friend than with your girlfriend?! Don’t you think thats a bit fucking weird, Dieter?!”
“Oh, for fucks sakes! Here we go again! Don’t you dare go bring her into this when she’s done nothing wrong! So sorry that you felt like the attention I was giving you was inadequate! Guess that gave you just the right amount of ammo to cheat on me with MY fucking pilates instructor?! Dude, I can’t even look the guy in the face anymore without wanting to rip his dick off, balls and all!”
“YES, because you left me with no other choice, Dieter! He gave me more attention than you ever have!”
“Right, sure! So instead of oh—I don’t know, acting like a fucking normal person, you let your jealousy take front and center and cheat on me?! Why the fuck couldn’t you just be like hey, Dieter! I’m feeling under-appreciated in our relationship and I’d like to talk about it in a healthy, productive way because I love and respect you as a person! I would have never fucking cheated on you, don’t you get that?!”
“Okay—you’re right! I’m sorry that I wasn’t mature, and I’m sorry I cheated on you, Dieter. I’m so sorry! Can we please just—”
He laughed, throwing his head back with his hands carding through his damp curls in disbelief. “You have got to be shitting me! You just expect me to what—take you back after all of that?! Fuck you. I may be a stupid fucking actor, but I’m not that stupid. Please, can you just—leave? I don’t want to call the cops, but I will if I have to.”
“Dieter, come on! Baby, please. Let’s just talk—”
“I’m not your baby.” He muttered and turned on his heel and walked back towards the front door. He really just wanted to bury his face in his hands and scream, but he was determined to not let her ruin his night. So, when he opened the door, and found you on the other side, he let out a visible sigh of relief. “Well, that was a crapshoot. Did ya hear any of it, bug?” He closed the door softly and made sure to lock it for good measure.
“You okay, Dee? I heard the last bit of it…I’m sorry that you had to deal with that.”
“S’okay. It’s done now and I’m gonna try and not let it ruin the rest of the night. Thank you for checking in on me, bug. I appreciate it.”
“Of course, Dee. Everyone is still in the backyard. Wanna join them? Otherwise I was thinking maybe you and I can get high?”
He grinned at your suggestion, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorjamb, “say less.”
That’s how you found yourself in Dieter’s bedroom, sitting on the floor with his rolling tray in your lap while he was changing out of his too-tight swim trunks and into a pair of boxers that were…equally as tight. You loved the way that his little bit of tummy pudge hung over the side of the boxer's waistband. What you wouldn’t give to worship that tummy while he shoves his—You kept your eyes focused on plucking a few bud clusters and placing them in the grinder. His phone was charging next to yours on the nightstand. You had Spotify open on shuffle playing yours and Dieter’s favorite playlist. The song that was currently playing was After Midnight by Chappell Roan.
He plopped down beside you, gently grabbing the tray and placed it in his lap so that he could roll the actual joint. He used the front of his bed as a backrest as he opened up the grinder and carefully distributed the ground up herb into one of the papers.
“I seriously don’t know how your dick can breathe in those tight fucking shorts, Dee.” you said with a playful edge to your tone as you let your head rest in the crook of his neck. He leaned into you too, naturally.
“They are not that tight!” He scoffed and looked over at you with a playful grin on his lips. “My dick can breathe in these perfectly fine, bug.” he retorted.
“Yeah, okay, whatever you say.”
Comfortable silence washed over the two of you while he finished rolling up the joint, looking over at you expectantly as he sparked the end of it, inhaling with his cheeks slightly hollowed, “should we have a full slumber party moment and paint our nails and do each other's makeup?” He asked softly, blowing the smoke upwards towards the ceiling and held the joint out to you between his pointer and middle finger.
“Shut up. I can’t believe you just brought that up because I was thinking the same exact thing!” You looked over at him In disbelief, reaching for the joint as your fingers briefly brushed against one another during the exchange. “I must have manifested this or something because I made sure to bring my nail polish this time!”
“Just start calling me Dieter the all knowing!” He chuckled, feeling the inhaled drug slowly send him into a relaxed state. He let his head comfortably rest against the back of the bed. “and I have my makeup that we can use! Think you can show me how to perfect the winged liner look? I’m shit at doing it on myself.” He huffed.
“I am not gonna start calling you Dieter that all knowing! There’s no way in hell I’m going to grant you all that power!” You nudged his shoulder gently with your own before you took a long drag from the joint, holding the smoke in your lungs before slowly exhaling it. “Of course I can help you with your eyeliner, Dee! Only if you let me pick out your nail color this time.”
“Okay, deal!” He was quick to respond with zero hesitation in his chipper tone.
So, after you each took a few more drags from the joint and your minds began to go hazy, Dieter lazily got up and walked into the en-suite to grab his bag of makeup from the bathroom cabinet. When he returned, you had grabbed your overnight bag and already had all of your nail products laid out.
“Damn, did ya bring your entire collection from home with ya?” He teased as he plopped down next to you. His movements were uncoordinated due to the drug coursing through his veins. He nearly fell into your lap, giggling and quietly apologizing as he sat back up. This was a normal occurrence for you and Dieter. Whenever the two of you would get high together, (which was frequent), you both became naturally affectionate and extremely touchy with one another. It was second nature, and something that neither you or Dieter ever thought about as being ‘weird’ and not the norm for most platonic friendships.
“Go big or go home, right Dee?” You had already picked out a pretty sparkly blue polish for his nails and set it off to the side.
“Absolutely, bug. Hey, can you do my makeup first, please?” He had his hands clasped in his lap, nervously twiddling his thumbs as if he was a child waiting to be reprimanded by his parents.
“Of course I can.” You said softly, and grabbed the makeup bag from his lap. “Hey, are you okay?…”
He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut momentarily and shook his head. “No, not really. I’m fucking pissed off about what happened down there with my ex.”
You nodded in understanding and stood up to grab one of his many pillows so that he would have something comfortable to lay against while you would do his makeup. “I gathered that.”
“That’s because you’re always reading the room, bug.” He chuckled, grabbing the pillow from you so that he could place it under his back. Once he was situated, he patted his thighs, beckoning you to come sit in his lap. (Doesn’t everyone straddle their best friend and do their makeup?)
“Am I?” You mused and wasted no time to straddle his hips, making yourself comfortable above him. He was looking up at you with that sparkle in his irises that only appeared around you. It was as if you were the reason why the sun shined, and the stars twinkled in the sky. You were too busy going through his bag of makeup to catch the look, and when your eyes did land upon his face, he looked like he was going through constricting emotions.
“Yeah, you’re really good at doing that, y’know?” He sighed, feeling his shoulders deflate and sink against the pillow.
“Do you want to talk about what happened, Dee?”
“Yeah.” He nodded, letting his hands gently rest around your hips, thumbs stroking the sliver of skin visible under your shorts in a soothing figure eight motion. “I mean, who the fuck just shows up to someone’s slumber party uninvited?”
“Well, she’s never really respected your boundaries, has she? Remember when you forgot to leave your phone in your dressing room at the Oscars, and when you were reading out the nominees and she called you, despite knowing that you were at the Oscars?” You grabbed his little bottle of toner and a couple cotton rounds, softly telling him to close his eyes.
He closed his eyes, flinching slightly when the cool mist of the toner kissed his skin. He relaxed further into the pillows when you gently patted the toner into his skin with the cotton round. “Yeah, that was a fucking disaster! I just remember going all red in the face and fearing that my career with the rest of the Hollywood assholes was over at that point.”
“I’m pretty sure she made that move out of spite, Dee. Y’know, because you didn’t ask her to be your plus one?”
He peeked one eye open to look up at you, “that’s because you’ve attended every single red carpet event with me, bug. It’s…tradition.” (Yeah, sure it is, Dieter. Just tradition.)
“I’m not justifying her behavior by any means, but I can understand why she was upset that you invited your best friend over your girlfriend to the Oscars.” You set the bottle of toner down and grabbed his usual moisturizer and squirted a few pumps onto your fingers and rubbed it into his skin.
“Yeah, I guess when you put it that way it does sound pretty fucked up huh? But I don’t think I deserved to be cheated on.” His lips curved into a downwards pout, brows furrowed intently.
“Oh, of course not, hun. Cheating is never justifiable.” You reassured him, reaching into the makeup bag and pulled out his primer, foundation and concealer. “Do you wanna do a full look or something on the more no makeup/makeup side?”
“So then why did she try to justify her reason for cheating on me? Not only that, she tried to sweet talk her way back in towards the end of the conversation. Oh, Dieter, I’m so sorry!” He scoffed, “she even pulled the baby card on me! I know I’m not the most emotionally intelligent individual 99% of the time, and I’ve struggled my whole life taking much of anything serious, but I still have a fucking heart despite what the tabloids gossip about.” He paused mid-venting, remembering what you had asked him, “surprise me, bug.”
“She pulled the baby card on you? What a fucking cunt move, honestly.” you shook your head. “Dieter, you have one of the biggest hearts in all of Hollywood, hun. You just don’t share it with everyone and that’s okay. Those tabloids are a load of crap. I told you before that you have to stop feeding into their agenda. It’s not worth it, Dieter.”
“Exactly! It was a cunt move. And if I didn’t realize my worth sooner, I probably would have fallen right back into a relationship with her again! You know what I’m starting to believe? Maybe…I just have to accept the fact that no one is ever gonna love me.”
You let out a sigh, reaching back into the makeup bag and pulled out one of his glitter shadows to apply on his eyelids. He let out a content hum when your fingers began to gently card through his damp curls while your other fingers began to gently pat the shimmery shadow onto his closed eyelids. “Dieter, don’t you fucking start that shit and claiming that no one is ever going to love you.”
“Well, it’s true! I can’t fucking hold a healthy relationship down to save my life! I’m the laughing stock of Hollywood, days away from fucking relapsing, and no one is gonna give a shit!”
“Dude, what are you talking about?” You fought the urge to laugh, not at him, of course, but at the situation at hand. “I love you, idiot. You are not the laughing stock of Hollywood, and you will not fucking relapse under my watch, Dieter.”
“Bug, I know you love me, and I love you too! But…that’s different. What I’m talking about is real, true love—ow!” He whimpered when you had accidentally poked his eye with your nail.
You weren’t even paying attention when he started rambling about true love and that the way he loved you was completely different…it stung and sent your heart straight through a shredder, and he had no idea!
“Shit, Dee! I’m so sorry—are you okay? My finger slipped.” Your palm came to rest around his scruffy jawline, leaning in close to make sure that you hadn’t accidentally poked his eye out with your fingernail. Your warm breath gently fanned his face as he blinked a few times to surpass the dull sting he felt on his cornea.
“I’m okay, bug. But damn, girl! Are you trying to poke my eye out or something?” He joked, trying to relieve the palpable tension growing between the two of you.
You were quick to change the subject, feeling slightly embarrassed that you allowed his words to affect you that much. You reached for the joint that was resting along the rolling tray and picked it up between your two fingers along with the lighter. “I’m going to take a couple more hits…you want any?” You asked while sparking the joint up, taking a deeper inhale this time to try and soothe your already scrambled brain.
He nodded, reaching his hand up to pluck the joint from between your lips after you were finished and placed it between his own and took a similarly deep drag. He looked so fucking pretty, laying there, joint hanging low between his lips, shimmering eyeshadow making his rich brown eyes stand out even more.
“Y’know…” he started, “if ya take a picture, it’ll last longer!” He mused, taking another long drag, blowing the smoke off to the side. When you didn’t immediately laugh at his weak attempt to ease the tension further, he frowned. “Hey, you okay? You’re never this quiet, bug. Even when you’re high.”
“I’m fine, Dieter.” You sighed, and went to slide off his lap, forgetting about doing his eyeliner when his hand resting around your hip tightened and you freezed under his touch.
“Hey, please don’t lie to me. Did I say something to upset you? I’m sorry if I did.” He was always so genuine in his apologies to you. He could claim to not know how to read the room, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.
“Dee, I’m fine.” You reassured him. “I was just having a moment.”
“Well…stop that! It’s not allowed when we’re having a sleepover.” He really just couldn’t stand to see you upset. It tore him up inside and made him feel like he was always the root cause for your mood change.
“Fuck you.” You laughed, giving his cheek a light pat while your other hand ruffled through his hair. “Do you still want me to do your eyeliner?”
“Yes please.” He grinned. “Just promise to not poke my eye out again?”
“I promise, Dee.”
While you carefully began to apply the eyeliner to his eyelids with careful precision, he continued to ramble on underneath you, careful to not move too much because he really didn’t want to accidentally get poked in the eye. Once you were finished, you expected him to immediately want to check how he looked in the mirror, but instead, he switched positions with you, straddling your hips now so that he could do your makeup.
You didn’t protest, of course. You’d take any excuse to admire his handsome features up close while he was zoned in on his work, his muse being you. Whenever he was painting, his focus was intense and it was as if he had tuned out everything else around him. He acted all the same while he was gently applying a shimmer shadow to your eyelids.
The intimacy simmering between the two of you was becoming too much for you to handle. You could feel him through his too-tight boxers, the weight of his cock pressing right against your clothed center. Despite knowing Dieter for as long as you have, you never had seen his cock, only just the outline of it. However, you heard the stories from his past partners, flings, and even some colleagues. They were all shocked to hear that you yourself had not seen Dieter Bravo’s package.
The walls in his spacious bedroom felt like they were closing in on you from how flustered you were feeling. Surely there was sweat beginning to bead and perspire along the column of your throat and behind your neck. Perhaps there was even an evident sign of your arousal between your thighs. You hoped to god that he hadn’t caught on. But when his hips shifted forward, his tongue poking out between his lips while he carefully applied a swipe of eyeliner across your right eyelid, it was too much.
“Hey—Dee? I’m not feeling too hot. Think the weed is messing with me. I—I think I’m gonna shower and go to bed.” You stuttered out, trying to focus on the words coming out of your mouth and not the images of his thick cock—
He frowned, looking deflated when you said that you wanted to go to bed. “Oh—okay, bug. I understand. Do you wanna watch a movie or something? I’ll get you some food and water, okay? Maybe you’re just having a bad trip?” He was genuinely concerned, feeling slightly nervous that his trusted dealer had laced his stash with something, but he didn’t want to go down that rabbit hole just yet.
“No—I just…I want to shower and go to bed, Dieter. I’ll be fine. It probably is just a bad trip.” You reassured him and subtly tried to create any form of distance between the two of you to relieve the tension you were feeling.
The weed is only enhancing what I’m feeling right now. If he could see the thoughts going through my head right now—
“If you are having a bad trip, then I should stay with you, bug. I don’t want anything to happen to you—”
“Dieter.” You were on the edge of snapping and saying something you would inevitably regret, “I don’t want you to stay with me, okay? I just want to fucking shower and go to bed.”
Ouch.
He visibly recoiled, feeling like you had just stabbed him right in the gut and twisted the knife for good measure. Maybe I am the clingy one…
“Okay, okay. I understand. I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want.” He wanted to snap right back at you, but he didn’t have the heart in him to do so.
“Thank you.” You breathed out, and when he didn’t immediately uncage your thighs from under his hips, you took matters into your own hands and placed your palm flat against his chest, gently pushing him off of you so you could quickly stand up.
He felt his heart twist even further when you disappeared into the en-suite, slamming the door behind you. He wasn’t sure if it was done maliciously or on accident, it still fucking hurt.
Seconds later he hears the sink turn on and the sound of water splashing against your face. It felt wrong to leave you in this state, so even after he heard the shower turn on while he was cleaning up the strewn about makeup on the floor, he sat down against the door, his back leaning against it as he waited. For what? He really didn’t know the answer to that.
You knew that Dieter was concerned about your well being, and if he could have it his own way, he would be in the bathroom with you right now, sitting with his back facing you so that you would feel comfortable to shower. You also were aware that he was sitting against the bathroom door and your heart lurched at the thought. You felt the guilt swim and swirl around you. Snapping at your best friend was not on your bingo card for the night, but maybe this was a sign that you and Dieter needed to set some serious boundaries between one another. Maybe you were beginning to realize that the two of you were…too close.
“Can you just…let me know you’re okay in there?” You heard him ask through the door as the scalding hot water streamed down over your bare body.
“Dieter, I’m fine.” Your voice was muffled under the stream.
“Yeah, sure you are, but I’d be a terrible fucking friend if I just left you to deal with this bad trip on your own, bug.”
God dammit, Dieter. Why can’t you just be an asshole like a normal person?! Is what you really wanted to say.
“Okay…” you trailed off, “I’m going to be in here for a while.”
“That’s okay. You can use up all of my hot water. I don’t care.” He reassured you.
When you didn’t immediately respond he let out a sigh, resting his head back against the door, closing his eyes. He remembered that your phone was still playing music from where it sat on his nightstand next to his own, and the familiar tune of Pink Pony Club started playing. It was yours and Dieter’s favorite song off of Chappell’s album.
“I know you wanted me to stay, but I can't ignore the crazy visions of me in LA. And I heard that there's a special place, where boys and girls can all be queens every single day.”
Dieter Bravo could not fucking sing, but everytime that he did for you, it was the most endearing gesture ever.
“You fucking asshole.” You muttered under your breath, “I'm having wicked dreams of leaving Tennessee. Oh, Santa Monica, I swear it's calling me. Won't make my mama proud, It's gonna cause a scene. She sees her baby girl, I know she's gonna scream…”
“God, what have you done! You're a pink pony girl, and you dance at the club! Oh mama, I'm just having fun! On the stage in my heels, it’s where I belong down at the Pink Pony Club!” You and Dieter sung the chorus in unison, completely out of tune, but neither of you could give a fuck about that.
You could practically picture his dopey, weed-stained grin plastered on his handsome, scruffy face behind the door when you sang the chorus together. The mental image sent your heart surging out of your chest, and your pussy pulsing in tandem.
Fuck me.
You truly had just planned to take a hot, relaxing, mind clearing shower and then go straight to bed, but you were feeling bothered by the weed, and your blatantly obvious attraction towards your best friend. Not to mention, the little rasp in Dieter’s voice was not helping you out in this predicament, either. That’s when you noticed his attached shower head and the lightbulb went off in your weed-induced brain.
You reached for the attached shower head, gently removing it from where it was mounted against the shower wall. Before turning it on, however, you quickly got familiar with the numerous spray settings and chose the medium spray before slowly dragging the shower head between your legs and—oh, fucck.
The pressure was just right and was directly spraying a stream of water onto your exposed clit. You held back a moan, bringing the back of your hand to your mouth and bit down as you slowly sank to your ass along the shower wall, your thighs spread fully, eyes rolling back into your skull from the intense feeling. That’s when a moan slipped past and Dieter initially thought he was just hearing things, but then he heard it again…and his cock twitched to life beneath the tight confinements.
“There’s no way. I’m just high as shit right now and hearing things. Yeah, that’s the logical explanation!” He muttered to himself, scrubbing one hand down his face. But then he heard you distinctively moan, and his face suddenly felt hot to the touch. He pressed his ear against the door, raising his fist and gently knocked on the wood, “you uh—you okay in there?”
You were so close to hitting that big ‘o’ that you didn’t even hear Dieter’s low rasp through the door.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” You whimpered. “So fucking close, just a little more. Just a little more. C’mon, baby.”
Now that he could hear you more clearly, he knew exactly what was producing those little desperate sounds to slip past your pretty lips: his fucking shower head.
“Excuse me?? Are you getting yourself off with MY shower head, without me in there?!” It was a thought that he had meant to keep in his head, but now that it was out there, there was truly no going back.
You froze like a deer caught in headlights, immediately dropping the shower head from your loose grasp and it clattered to the shower floor just as the bathroom door burst open.
“Dieter—WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!” You screeched, hair drenched, thighs spread and trembling.
He shut the door behind him, muttering under his breath as he approached, looking you right in the eyes, “more importantly, what are you doing?” He placed his hands on his hips. “Your little moans and whimpers made me rock fucking hard!” He gestured to the obvious tent in his boxers, his cock straining against the tight material. “Had I known it was gonna be that kind of sleepover, I would have joined you a heck of a lot sooner!”
Oh. My. God. This isn’t happening, is it?!
“Dieter, you can’t just fucking come in here when I’m masturbating! Dude—what the fuck!”
“Oh, heavens! Are we going back to the 1800’s or something? Just call it for what it is! You playing with your pussy, and using my shower head to get yourself off! By all means, please continue, but next time? I want a personal invite!”
You were appalled…and a little turned on? Okay, a lot turned on! In fact, your pussy was pulsing between your thighs, the edge of your interrupted orgasm was still simmering, waiting to fully bloom. To make matters worse, Dieter had crouched down outside of the shower, his brows furrowed when he noticed the setting you had set the shower head to. He tsked under his breath, shaking his head as he reached into the shower and picked up the shower head from where it had been dropped between your spread thighs.
“Dieter, what are you—”
“Hush and listen to the teacher, okay? For starters, you’re using it all wrong. You gotta build yourself up first, and then go full blast. Otherwise you’re just gonna overstimulate your poor little clit, and that just takes away from the experience.” He said in the most casual fashion, as if this wasn’t crossing a million different invisible boundaries all at once.
“Dieter, I don’t need your assistance on getting myself off, okay? Please just—”
“Bug, don’t make this weird, okay? We’re friends, and there’s nothing in the friends handbook that says that we can’t help one another get off! It’s totally not forbidden.” He retorted.
“I think you just made the whole friends handbook thing up. It totally doesn’t exist and we absolutely should not be doing this, Dieter! It’s wrong for a multitude of reasons!”
“The friends handbook totally exists! I’ll get you a copy, okay? I’m not going to touch you, unless you want me to. I’m just gonna use the shower head to show you the right way to get yourself off with it, and afterwards you will be thanking me!”
“I can’t believe I’m about to agree to this. I cannot fucking—”
“Best start believing it, baby! Now, spread your thighs for me a little more, okay?”
“Okay, I’m giving you my full consent, but if I start feeling weird, we’re stopping this whole thing, okay?” You looked him directly in the eyes as you spread your thighs further so he had a better view.
“Bug, if at any point you feel weird, uncomfortable, or want to stop, just tell me, okay? I’m not gonna pressure you to continue doing this if you don’t want to. I’m leaving the ball completely in your court, and my feelings won’t be hurt if you change your mind, okay? I promise.” His words were sincere, and it was hard to look away when he was staring at you with those big, brown, puppy dog eyes.
“Okay.” You nodded.
He leaned forward then, briefly getting caught under the stream when his lips brushed across your forehead, leaving you both feeling slightly stunned. He softly asked you if it was okay if he did touch you, to which you obliged, lower lip taken between your teeth when his hand that wasn’t holding the shower head slowly dipped between your thighs and his fingers spread your slick folds apart so he would have better access to your clit.
“I always knew that your pussy would be pretty, baby, but goddamn—she really is so fucking pretty.” He took a sharp inhale of breath, his cock twitching painfully in his boxers.
“Dieter Bravo, you’re going to be the death of me.” You breathed out, heat rising to your cheeks from the way he was gazing at the spot between your thighs, eyes glazed over the same way a dog looks at a delicious bone, or a plate of juicy, rare, steak.
“You’re already the death of me, bug.” He whispered, unable to help himself when his thumb gently brushed across your clit. He swallowed hard, trying to focus on the task at hand but between you prettily spread out beneath him, and the weed still flowing through his system, he was fucked.
He changed the setting on the shower head without even having to look down at it. He was too focused on your face, particularly your eyes and how you both seemed to be drinking one another in, an invisible string tied between the two of you, reeling him in closer, and closer. You observe his face, and the way his eyeliner has now started to run and bleed under his eyes and down his cheeks from the water and steam. Your pussy clenches from the sight just as his thumb lightly presses against your clit, making slow, languid, figure eight motions.
He thinks he wants to kiss you—no, scratch that. He wants to kiss you, and you can tell by the way his eyes flicker from your face and down to your lips, and then back up again.
“Dieter…” you whisper, bringing your hand up to gently cradle his face in your palm, curling your pointer finger under his chin. “Do you want to kiss me?” Your warm breath fans his face as he slowly nods.
“Yeah, I do.” He rasped, slowly leaning in.
“So kiss me, you fool.”
And so he did, but instead of hesitating, and holding back, he dove right in, noses pressing into one another as he licked greedily into your mouth, tangling his tongue with yours while his hand holding the shower head angled it right against your exposed pussy and between his fingers where he was keeping you spread open.
“Oh fuck!” You whimpered into the kiss, keeping your one hand anchored around his jaw while the other came to rest at the back of his head, your fingers tangled through his drenched locks, tugging on them gently.
“Yeah, feels good, doesn’t it, baby? Told ya so.” He snickered into your lips, kissing you deeper. “Lower water pressure builds you up slower, drawing your orgasm out to last longer, and it’ll feel 10x more intense.”
“Mhm.” You mumbled into his lips, scooting your hips closer to the stream of water, and to him.
“Greedy little pussy, huh? Can’t get enough, can ya?” He teased.
“Dieter…” you warned him, playfully biting down on his lower lip and tugging it out gently before releasing it.
“I know, I know.” He chuckled and reluctantly detached himself from the kiss, pecking your lips once before he sat back on his thighs to give himself any form of relief. “You wanna give yourself a whirl while I go take care of this er—in privacy?”
Your cheeks were puffed out, lips swollen with his kisses as you stared up at him dumbfounded. “Are you insane? Just get in here with me, Dieter. Right now.”
He blushed, turning bright red all the way to the tips of his ears. He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly turning all bashful as if he wasn’t just talking about your greedy little pussy seconds ago. “Are you…sure? I really don’t mind! I can just go jerk off in my bed like a normal person—”
“Dieter.” Your tone sounded strained, “get in the fucking shower now. Take those ridiculously tight boxers off and get in here.”
Well, you certainly didn’t need to ask Dieter Bravo twice as he scrambled to peel his boxers down over his hips and thighs, tossing the damp fabric outside of the shower. His cock bobbed between his thighs, hard, heavy and the tip was swollen a painful red color. Poor guy.
He climbed over you, situating himself and his cute little tush right next to you with his shoulders gently brushing yours. He spit a glob of saliva into his palm and wrapped his fist around the veiny girth of his cock. “I’ll come fast, I promise. You won’t even have to do anything, okay? Just pretend I’m not here!” His tone was rushed as he squeezed the base of his cock, lolling his head to the side so he could look over at you. His eyeliner was completely smudged now and his lips were swollen with your kisses.
All you could do was nod dumbly, your eyes transfixed by his fist wrapped around his cock. It was as if you were seeing a unicorn for the first time! The unicorn being er—Dieter’s cock.
He looked at your face, and then down at his cock, and then back up at your face. “Hello?” He waved with his freehand, “why are you looking at my cock like that, huh? Are you the only person in the whole state of California who hasn’t seen my cock before?” He was in disbelief, his mouth falling open when he realized that you never had seen his cock.
"I totally thought you'd seen his dick. Practically everyone else has." You remember his ex cruelly teasing you about it one day.
You shook your head, eyes glazed over as you watched his fist slowly twist and pump around his length. “Nope. First time, and it’s like I’m looking at a unicorn!” You exclaimed playfully.
Dieter snorted at your enthusiasm, feeling his heart lurch from his chest, “well, it is sorta like seeing a unicorn for the first time…I suppose?” He chuckled, squeezing the base of his cock for some form of relief. He felt like now was the best time to address the obvious elephant in the room, silly Dieter. “So uh—well, this doesn’t mean anything, right? Because we’re just friends and good friends masturbate together. It's cool, this is super casual!”
Sure, bud. You keep telling yourself that.
You fought the urge to roll your eyes and clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth, spreading your thighs further so you could continue your ministrations with the shower head. “Sure, Dieter. This means absolutely nothing. Just two besties jerking it off, side by side. Totally casual!”
He let out a huff as he pumped his fist faster, “Well, we wouldn’t be in this predicament if those noises you were making didn’t make my cock as hard as a slab of concrete!”
“Dieter, shut up, and get yourself off! Or so help me—”
“Yes ma'am!” He squeaked out.
In tandem you placed the shower head close to your clit once more while he fisted his cock, and when your moans started to intermingle and become one, that’s when your glazed over eyes met once more. He had his lip harshly taken between his teeth, his cock was twisting and pulsing beneath his fist. He leaned in close, lips just barely brushing your bare shoulder where he had dipped his head down to nuzzle you. His eyes flickered upwards towards your face, pupils darkening by the second, “I really want to fuck you right now, baby.” He rasped.
You met his gaze, thighs trembling and your eyes rolling slightly as your orgasm rippled through you, “yeah, you wanna fuck me, Dieter? How badly do you want to fuck me?”
“So fucking bad, baby. You’ve got no idea.” He mewled, “there’s that convenient bench right over there.” He gestured to the shower bench with a coy tilt of his chin, “you can sit right on my cock, if you’d like that…”
“Did you have that bench installed for convenience purposes or for your old man bad back?” You asked teasingly.
He narrowed his eyes at you, glaring playfully before he chuckled, “a bit of both. More-so on the convenience side of things. And, it’s newly installed so you and I would be the first to use it.” He winked coyly.
“Really? Well, your offer is most tempting, Bravo. I’d like to take you up on it and sit on your big fucking cock.”
“Now we’re talking.” He grinned, loosening his fist around his cock so he could offer you a hand and helped you up. Now you were both directly under the stream of water, hands roaming everywhere they could reach. You kissed deeply, giggling in unison when you grabbed his ass and he grabbed yours. He could happily live in this moment forever with you, even if it meant that his skin would inevitably prune and probably fall off.
You backed him up against the shower bench, climbing into his lap as he slowly lowered himself into a sitting position along the marble bench that could easily fit both of you.
You wrapped your own palm around the base of his cock for the first time as you slowly sank down around his girth till he was fully pressed inside of you, bottoming out with a low grunt against your lips. He let his arms loop firmly around your waist, pulling you in as close as he physically could so that your chests were pressed flushed together. He swore he saw heaven behind fluttered lashes when you started to slowly roll your hips into his, bouncing and grinding along his length.
If it wasn’t for his steadfast orgasm, he probably would have lasted longer before he was shooting thick ropes of his cum deep inside of you, but he was a man, after all. And while his cum leaked and dripped from your weeping little hole that was still stuffed full of his cock, he made sure that you got to come again, too. He pistoned his hips upwards at an unruly pace, loving the way that your nails clawed at his back and shoulders, leaving little red crescents in their wake. Maybe I’ll get those tattooed on me later. He briefly thought as you came undone around him, crying out his name.
You stayed seated on his cock for what felt like hours before he gently eased you off him, his cock now soft between his thighs and glistening in a thick, pearlescent ring of your combined releases.
You washed one another’s bodies under the lukewarm stream and he was the first to step out of the shower, grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist and when you emerged, he had a towel waiting for you. You kissed a few more times, gentle pecks of intimacy as you stood side by side in front of the mirror, brushing your teeth and doing your skincare.
“Soo, where are you sleeping tonight?” He suddenly asked with a mouthful of toothpaste. His deep pools of brown boring into yours.
You hadn’t really thought that far if you were being honest…and now with that fresh ‘I just got fucked good’ glow illuminating your features, and the remainder of your high still sizzling, you suddenly feeling nervous all over again.
“Um, well, where do you want me to sleep?”
“I asked you first.” He crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for your response.
“Okay, fair, how about on the count of three we say it together?”
“Deal.” He nods.
“Okay—one, two, three—” you counted off in unison.
“Your bed—my bed.”
You both looked relieved at your answers, letting out breaths you didn’t realize you were holding. “Thank fucking god.” You both laughed.
He kissed you then, mouthful of toothpaste and all. You made a funny squeaking sound when he had unexpectedly kissed you, and the corners of his mouth curved up into a knowing grin. “I’ll get you one of my shirts to wear.” He mumbled into the kiss, pulling back slowly.
When you left the en-suite, you found Dieter already in bed, sitting up with the rolling tray resting in his lap. He had a fresh pair of boxers on, this pair was made of cotton and was far less constricting. He was rolling another joint to smoke before bed when he looked up, smiling softly at your lingering presence in the doorway, wearing nothing but his shirt.
“Well, don’t be shy, bug. Ain’t the first time you’ve slept in my bed.” He winked, patting the empty spot beside him on his massive king sized bed.
You took a deep breath, remembering that this was Dieter Bravo, your best friend and partner in crime. He would always be your best friend.
You made your way over to the empty side of the bed and pulled the covers back so you could climb underneath them.
He finished rolling the joint, grabbing his lighter from the nightstand to spark it up before he paused, looking over his shoulder at you. “Hey, we don’t have to like—do anything, okay?” He reassured you.
“But Dieter, I wanna do stuff with you. It’s just—in your bed it feels…” you trailed off, scratching at the outside of your arm absentmindedly.
He tucked the joint behind his ear and rolled over into his side so he was facing you, using his elbow to prop himself up, “I understand, baby. This is…new for me as well. We can smoke this joint and then make out a little? See where it goes?…”
You nodded, lips curving up into a soft smile that sent his heartbeat racing, “yeah, I’d like that.”
“Me too.” He grinned.
He sparked the joint up between you, taking a few hits before he passed it off to you. This went on a few more times before your bodies just naturally gravitated towards one another, and when the joint died out, he set it down on the tray on his nightstand before his lips found yours.
You kissed like this for hours, simply just enjoying one another’s company and soft touch when the sun began to rise over the Los Angeles landscape. Dieter was uncharacteristically quiet, even for being stoned.
Your fingers were gently dragging through the patches in his beard, playing with his scruff in between kisses. “I can hear you overthinking, Dee.”
“Are you a wizard?” He chuckled, “you can hear my thoughts? That’s crazy!”
“Shh.” You giggled. “I’m right here, baby. You don’t have to yell.”
“Sorry.” He whispered, scooting his body closer to yours. He would absolutely crawl inside of your skin and never leave, but well—-he might go to prison if he did that.
“I’m gonna say something that might sound stupid, but I gotta get it off my chest, okay?” He started, his glazed over eyes met yours as he pressed a few kisses to the underside of your fingertips.
“I’m listening.”
“Okay, so—well, this is just different for me because I don’t normally fuck my friends.”
You gave him a funny look at his admittance, unable to help yourself.
“I’m serious! I don’t fuck my friends—and well, I care about you a ton.Maybe even more than I care about myself? Anyway, I don’t want things to get weird between us tomorrow. Like if you wake up and regret everything that happened, I just want you to tell me, okay? My hopes is that maybe you felt the little spark that I did and if you did we can—”
“Dieter, I promise you I’m not going to wake up tomorrow and regret everything that happened tonight. No matter where this takes us, I’m always going to love you, and you’re always going to be my best friend.” Your words were sincere and directly from your heart and he knew you weren’t just saying shit just to say it.
“I think I just shat my heart out, that was so sweet.” He giggles, nuzzling his nose against yours. “In all seriousness, thank you. I was just afraid that this would ruin our friendship, and I would lose you forever.”
“Never, Dieter. You could never lose me.” You reassured him.
“Good, cause in the morning? I’m making waffles!”
Helen Mirren: Narrator for the Barbie Movie:
Dieter did not in fact make waffles the next morning. Instead, Dieter had his breakfast between your thighs, and then let you order whatever brunch you wanted on his black card
"You can be my sugar baby! I get to eat you out and you can order whatever you want on my card." He murmured between your thighs, mouthful of your pussy.
"That's not how that sort of thing really works, Dieter. But, yeah, okay."
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#fic: ‘cause after midnight#dieter bravo smut#dieter bravo#slumber party dieter#dieter bravo fanfiction#dieter bravo fic#dieter bravo fluff#dieter bravo angst#dieter bravo imagine#dieter bravo the bubble#dieter bravo x f!reader#dieter bravo x female reader#dieter bravo x you#dieter bravo x reader#dieter x reader#the bubble#the bubble fanfiction#the bubble fic#pedro pascal characters#tw dubious consent
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Hands on Hands
dieter x f!reader
warnings: fluff, fluffy fluff fluff, mentions of sex, just dieter being a lil snuggly bug.
authors note: this is a little drabble for @morallyinept since her ask got deleted when I updated my laptop! I hope you enjoy!
"Baby." You look down at the messy curls and the soft whistles of air blowing on your shoulder. You smile softly as he turns his head towards you. You look down at him and kiss him on his nose. He chuckles as he turns over on his stomach.
He grabs onto your waist and you giggle as he hoists your body underneath him. His head lies on your chest as he wraps his arms around your body.
"What'd ya need?" You run your hands through his hair. Scratching at his scalp and slowly massaging his head. He groans at the feeling and you smile softly. "Nothing baby, go back to sleep."
He squeezes your small frame beneath him and yawns. You feel light tapping at the end of your shorts. His fingers going in and out, massaging your thigh.
"You don't need anymore sex do ya?" You laugh aloud and swat his head. "Dieter! No!"
He lifts his head and rests his chin on your chest. You grin at him as he pouts his lips. "So you're saying you don't wanna have sex with me?"
You wrap your hands around his head as he frowns. "No baby, just not right now, I just wanna lie here with you." He smiles softly and gives you a kiss. He slowly rests his head back on your chest and wraps his arms around you tighter.
"But we can still have sex later right?"
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welcome back to jo's who wants to be a millionaire...
now, question two for 200JP’s, who is the culprit of this text:
choose from:
a. frankie b. marcus p c. javi p d. dave e. jack whiskey f. dieter
to play: drop your answers in the comments or your reblog—and explain why… for science
#jo: who wants to be a millionaire#frankie morales#javier peña#marcus pike#jack whiskey#pedro Pascal characters#dave york#dieter bravo
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New Writers added to The Pedro Library 🐼
@eff4freddie @sixhours
New Works Added ✨
Many fics aren’t appearing in the tags when searching. If I miss yours, please let me know 💗 Or add me to your taglist cuz I love being tagged 😊
As always, if you would like me to remove your work from the rec list, please let know and I’ll remove them asap 😊
@morallyinept Javi G Te Quiero
@mermaidgirl30 Javier Javi’s Playground / Joel Captured in the Woods
@mandoalorian Javier But Daddy I Love Him!
@ghostofaboy Javier + Dave + Marcus P Hold Please...
@penvisions Frankie Coffee and Candor
@undercoverpena Frankie Up Sky, Low High
@alwaysbethewest Frankie + Javier Crossing the Streams
@autumnleaves1991-blog Frankie Frankie Drabble
@mothandpidgeon Joel The Outlaws
@frenchiereading Joel Muscle Memory
@wheresarizona Joel But Now I’m Your Daisy
@tightjeansjavi Joel My Joel
@toomanystoriessolittletime Joel Rain Confessions
@secretelephanttattoo Marcus M Afterword
@wardenparker @absurdthirst Whiskey A Night to Remember
@beskarandblasters Din Packin’ (In More Ways Than One) + Guilty as Sin
@backtothefanfiction Din Not That Easy
@tropes-and-tales Din Shadow and Light
@rayslittlekitten Dieter Draw Me Like One of Your French Girls
@bluestar22x Dieter Unknown
@janaispunk Oberyn Delicate
@chronically-ghosted Pero Iron and Charcoal
#my library#joel miller#javi gutierrez#javier peña#frankie morales#marcus moreno#agent whiskey#din djarin#dieter bravo#oberyn martell#pero tovar#pedro pascal character fanfiction
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That's My Man...
Thanks to @sheepdogchick3 @jennaispunk I'm sure there were more, apologies if I missed you...
Rules: Post 4 pics of characters who make you yell MY MAN! MY MAN! MY MAN!
They all my mans... 🖤
Tagging anyone who wants to play! 😘🖤
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#joel miller#ezra prospect#dieter bravo#javi gutierrez#ideal saturday night
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my man
four characters who make you yell "MY MAN MY MAN MY MAN" !!
Tagged by @rhoorl
NPTs @gnpwdrnwhiskey @kteague @trulybetty @superhoeva @flightlessangelwings @wyn-n-tonic @msjarvis @penvisions @darlingshane and anyone else who wants to share
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Draw Me Like One of Your French Girls
A/N: This is finally done! I swear I started this like two years ago inspired by a Writer Wednesday prompt and I kinda got stuck trying to paint the exact picture I had in my mind and I think I finally succeeded. Okay maybe a little less detailed, but it's got the point I wanted to make across. This is kinda like a villain origin story. I chose to pair him with an OC (who also has physical descriptions) instead of reader character because this is really all about Dieter and I don’t think the reader would want to be the OC anyways. Also thanks to the lovely @lovebarefootblonde for beta reading!
Rating: T/M
Word Count: ~4.5k
Pairing: Young!Dieter Bravo (18+) x Named OFC
Plot: Dieter stumbles into his own Hollywood movie, but it's not the ending he expected.
Contains: mentions of sex, recreational drug use, angst
The sun is starting to set and palm tree silhouettes sway in front of the pink and orange skyline. The Golden Hour. The light casts long shadows as the glowing star descends. Dieter quickly pedals, cutting through alleyways and side streets to avoid the rush hour traffic and tourists.
Finally, he bursts through the front door of his apartment holding a take out bag and sweating like he just ran a marathon. He pants and tries to catch his breath as he quickly makes his way to the kitchen and shoves the bag into the nearly empty refrigerator. After slamming the door shut, he jogs over to the bathroom where he passes his roommate on the couch.
"I brought home some leftovers if you want it," Dieter quickly mentions.
"Is it a cheeseburger?" his roommate asks, his eyes never leaving the television screen.
"No! It's spaghetti and meatballs!" Dieter shouts from the bathroom where he starts getting rid of his sweaty and smelly clothes from waiting tables all day after turning on the shower.
"There's a party happening downtown tonight. Are you going?"
"No, I got this gig last minute. I gotta leave in like 10 minutes," he replies before shoving his toothbrush into his mouth.
"Come on, there's gonna be so many women there!" his roommate comments.
Dieter rushes through cleaning his teeth and spits into the sink.
"I'm working the Titanic premiere at the Chinese theater," he shouts before jumping into the shower, not even waiting for the water to warm up. He shrieks at the shock of the cold temperature.
After Dieter's record quick shower, he throws on some decently clean clothes after giving them a sniff and then shoves his feet into his shoes.
"The Titanic premiere? Get out! Who the hell did you have to blow to get that gig?" his roommate asks skeptically.
"No one. One of my coworkers also works catering and someone dropped out," Dieter shrugs. "I'm getting paid to serve stars. I'm not passing up on that."
"Well, look at you, climbing the Hollywood social ladder. Next, you're gonna tell me you're the new Leonardo DiCaprio."
"You could be the next Leonardo DiCaprio if you actually went to auditions instead of waiting for someone to notice you," Dieter shoots back.
"You do you man. I have my own methods," he replies smugly.
"I gotta go. See you later. Please do the dishes before you go to this party," Dieter adds before grabbing an apple out of a fruit bowl sitting on the kitchen counter and taking off.
***
As Dieter races to the theater on his bike, riding as quick as he possibly could while weaving through traffic, he slows down for a moment when he sees the large crowd lined up by the red carpet outside of the beautiful iconic theater. His breath is taken away as he admires the glitz and glamor in front of him.
The Grauman’s Chinese Theatre is a place he’s gotten well acquainted with since moving to Los Angeles. It’s one of his favorite places to go in his free time, watching all the new film releases. Sometimes multiple times if he enjoys them that much. However, he’s never actually attended a movie premiere and the elegant transformation has him in a chokehold.
As he approaches the theater, he hops off mid-roll as he slows down and hears a loud roar coming from the fans barricaded off to the side. He can't see who it is, but a limo just pulled up to the front of the theater and the screams get louder as someone steps out of the car and walks down the red carpet. He knows one day, it'll be him walking down that plush red carpet and loved by fans.
He moves quickly to behind the theater where his coworker told him to meet her. He sprints when he finds his coworker right outside the back door appearing to finish putting on her uniform.
"Oh, thank goodness you made it!" She says as she buttons up her uniform vest.
"I got here as quickly as I could." He drops his bike and with his hands on his knees, Dieter pauses to catch his breath.
"We don't have time!" She tosses him his uniform vest.
Dieter instantly throws the vest on.
"Come on! We gotta run," she tells him as she takes off inside.
"What about my bike?" he asks as he throws his bag over his shoulder.
"Bring it in!" she shouts from the long hallway.
Dieter takes his bike with him and rushes inside, letting the door close behind him. He leaves the bike and bag somewhere and she gestures to him to hurry. As he follows her, he buttons up and stuffs his shirt into his pants. By the time they enter the kitchen, he's mostly put together as he smooths out his hair, slicking it back.
He doesn't even get a moment to catch his breath when a tray of hors d'oeuvres get shoved into his hands.
"Go, go, go!" the man in apron shouts as he nudges Dieter towards the swinging doors.
Dieter rushes out while trying not to tip over the tray. He gathers his composure and walks around offering hors d'oeuvres while taking in the celebrities and VIPs. He was so in awe of everything and everyone around him, being in the midst of one of the most important parties celebrating what he believes will be one of the biggest movies of the year. It’s James freakin’ Cameron!
Throughout the night, he continues to walk around with trays of food and beverages while taking everything in. He’s taking notice of what people are wearing, saying, who’s talking to who. Even though he’s not able to mingle with the stars, he’s just as happy that he gets to still, in a way, be in the middle of it all. He was even able to sneak into the theater a few times to watch the movie.
As he makes his way back to the kitchen with an empty tray, suddenly he’s blindsided by a swinging door.
“Oops! I’m so, so sorry! I didn’t know you were behind the door,” the person apologizes.
“You went out the wrong door,” he exclaims while picking up his tray off the floor.
“Are you okay?”
When Dieter looks up at the offending person, his face softens. She looks like a Golden Aged Hollywood star. Her long wavy hair cascades down her exposed back. Her floor-length shiny dress is slinky against her smooth skin, hugging her every curve and dip, and flaring out at her ankles. Her long fanned out lashes and cat eyeliner frame her piercing eyes.
“I… yeah I’m… I’m good,” he stammers, swallowing the saliva pooling in his mouth. “Um, can I help you? Are, are you lost?” He vaguely points to the kitchen doors.
“Say, you happen to know where I can powder my nose?” She asks curiously while tapping the tip of her nose with he satin-covered fingertip.
“Uhhh, the ladies’ room is that way,” he points to a general direction.
“You’re adorable,” she compliments with a giggle after a silent moment studying him. “This is your first time working one of these big Hollywood parties, isn’t it?”
“Uhhh… no?”
Something out of his eyesight catches her attention and she loops her arm through his before quickly swooping him away into a different direction.
“So, uh, what did you say your name was again?” She asks as she briskly moves them farther away from where they were, occasionally glancing back.
“I, I didn’t,” he stutters. “Where are we going?”
“You know where we can just get away from the crowd and maybe get some air?” She asks while scanning the place.
“Yes, I actually do. Follow me!”
Dieter stealthily navigates them both to a section for employees only and out through a back alleyway. She looks behind them and when she sees that nobody has followed them, she lets out a sigh of relief.
“Phew! Thank you so much,” she says to him.
“No problem. So who or what were we running away from back there?” Dieter asks her.
“What are you talking about?” She asks calmly.
“You wanted to get the hell out of there and you kept looking back like you’re checking to see if anyone was following us.”
She ignores his observation, walking off a few feet away to put some distance between them as she takes out a cigarette from her clutch.
“Are you in danger?” Dieter asks.
She scoffs and lets out a chuckle.
“No, nothing dramatic like that,” she responds right before she lights her cigarette and takes a drag.
He notices she doesn’t have a wristband or any visible credentials.
“Are you even supposed to be at this party?” He asks her with narrow eyes.
Suddenly the door swings open, knocking into Dieter and preventing it from opening further. He moves aside and pokes his head around the door.
“Hey, sorry, buddy. Did you happen to see a woman with long dark hair about this tall come out this way? She has on like a long shiny dress?”
“Uhhh…” Dieter glances around the alleyway on both sides and briefly notices the woman hiding behind the door with her back against the brick wall, trying to make herself as invisible as possible.
“I mean, that could be anyone here,” Dieter responds to the man with a small smirk. “But no, I didn’t.” He shakes his head to underline his confirmation.
“What are you doing out here?” He asks with slight suspicion, noticing his uniform. “Shouldn’t you be inside working?”
“I’m just taking a break,” he shrugs.
The woman quietly offers Dieter her lit cigarette behind the door and he takes it from her without raising any alarms.
“A smoke break.” He shows the man the cigarette in his hand before taking a puff himself.
“Well, make it quick. if you see anyone matching that description, please let me know.”
And with that, he hands Dieter his business card.
“Will do, sir!” Dieter nods to him as he takes the card.
Dieter watches the man walk back into the building, and when he is completely out of sight, he looks over to where she is and notices she has started to tiptoe away.
“He’s gone,” Dieter tells her.
She stops in her tracks and turns around.
“Thank you for that. I really appreciate it.” She claps her hands together.
“You owe him some money or something?” Dieter asks, slowly walking towards her while taking another pull of her cigarette.
“Mm, I guess it depends on who you ask,” she replies coyly.
“What does that mean?” He tilts his head curiously.
After what he did for her, she feels she owes him at least an explanation.
“We had just met a few hours ago and I charmed him enough to sneak into this party but I got bored halfway in. I thought I’d be able to rub elbows with some important people, but turns out he doesn’t really know those important people here and if you don’t know anyone, you’d be lucky to even get to say just hi to the people everyone wants to talk to, so I dressed my best for nothing,” she replies.
Dieter checks the business card that was handed to him and it reads:
“Lights, Camera, Catering
Abner Bailey Jones
CEO”
“Shit, I think that was my boss,” Dieter laughs. “But that still doesn’t explain why he’s looking for you and why you’re avoiding him.”
“My guess is he’s expecting something in return for him getting me into the party,” she shrugs.
“Oooh,” he simply replies. “Wait a minute. So you got all glammed up and came here not knowing if you were going to get into the premiere?” He asks.
“You gotta fake it ‘til you make it, right?” She shrugs again as she struts back to him and takes her cigarette back. “So you ever gonna tell me your name? You can call me Beatrice.”
She takes a long drag while waiting for his answer.
“Dieter. My stage name," he explains. "It's a nickname my family gave me when I was a kid because I couldn't pronounce theater correctly which I loved going to all the time and it came out sounding like Dieter and it just stuck. The movie theater is where my passion for acting started."
“Of course you’re an actor. What’s your real name?"
Dieter doesn't answer, but simply flashes a cheeky smirk at her, his dimple creasing deeper into his face.
"Hmm, suddenly so mysterious. Nice to meet you, Dieter.” Beatrice extends her gloved hand out and Dieter shakes it.
“You’re new in town, aren't you?" she asks curiously then drops the cigarette butt on the asphalt.
"Not really. I moved here about six months ago."
"Six months only? Oh, you are new in town," she comments. "Practically a tourist."
"Really?" he asks with a tilt to his head. “What makes you say that?"
"Your eagerness. You still got that sparkle in your eyes. You haven’t been jaded by Hollywood yet.”
“And you have, I suppose?”
Beatrice shrugs and flashes an award-winning smile, her turn to be a little mysterious. Her blood red lips make her perfect teeth even brighter.
“Hey, you wanna get out of here? Got a place we can go to just like, hang out?” she asks.
Dieter looks around to make sure she was talking to him and then stares back at her like a deer in headlights.
“M-me? You wanna hang out with me?” He points to his own chest, shocked.
“Yeah, why does that surprise you?”
“I mean you… you look like that,” he points to her dress. “And well…” He then gestures his hands to himself.
“You look like a star. I just didn’t think women who look like you would want anything to do with people who look like me,” he replies.
“It’s that kinda thinking that makes me want to hang out with you even more. You’re not full of yourself. You seem like a cool guy, Dieter.”
Dieter’s face flushes. “Thank you. You seem super cool too. Like way cooler than me. Oh! My shift ends in…” he glances at his watch. “Maybe another hour.”
“Oh, come on, Dieter!”
Dieter sighs, stuck between staying for the party or going with this beautiful woman in front of him.
“You’re not gonna leave a damsel all in distress, are you?” Beatrice fakes an exaggerated pout while batting her hazel eyes.
“You have a habit of following around strangers?” He teases.
“Strangers? You and me? No. You lied for me and basically saved my life. You’re practically my savior,” she corrects him.
“Saved your life? I thought you weren’t in any danger. ‘Nothing dramatic like that’, I believe you said,” he jabs back.
“You saved me from dying of boredom,” she smirks and it draws a small laugh out of Dieter. “So what do you say, hero?”
Dieter chews on his lower lip as he weighs his options.
“Come on, you really wanna work this boring party? I’m pretty sure half the cast left already,” she gripes. “Oh, I also got…”
Beatrice fishes inside her clutch and pulls out a small baggie.
“Weed! I don’t know if you indulge, but I’m willing to share,” she tempts him as she dangles the baggie. “We can chill out and talk about the movie or whatever.”
After a few more moments, he finally makes a decision.
“Wait right here. I’ll be right back,” Dieter tells her right before he rushes back inside.
“Yes!” Beatrice exclaims enthusiastically.
A few minutes later, Dieter returns with his bag and bike.
“My coworker’s gonna cover for me. She owes me a favor,” Dieter says.
“Sweetheart, I don’t think that’s gonna fit the both of us, especially not while wearing this.” She points out her delicate gown. “Let’s hail a cab!”
***
After grabbing some tacos off a street cart, they end up back at his place.
"I don't think my roommate is home. He went to some party downtown,” Dieter says while giving her a quick tour of his apartment.
When they finally reach his messy bedroom, she notices the canvases sprawled throughout.
"You're an artist?” Beatrice asks while admiring the art.
"I dabble in paint whenever I have the time,” he shrugs. “Which sometimes is a lot,” he laughs.
"Your style is interesting. What do you have going on here?" She asks, pointing to a canvas with splotches of color on it.
"I don't know yet. I just paint whatever comes to my mind." He stuffs his hands into his pockets and shrugs as he walks over to the painting.
"Whenever I get inspired, I just..." He vaguely gestures his hand to the half empty white surface. "I have to admit, many of them have been under the influence," he laughs.
"Oh, yeah? What's your poison of choice?" she asks, suddenly very interested.
“Well, usually just some marijuana. That one was actually a result of the first time I tried mushrooms.” Dieter points to a different painting.
“Have you ever tried cocaine?”
“That’s a rich man’s candy,” Dieter replies, shaking his head.
“I can get some for us,” she offers. “I know someone.”
“You have that kind of money?” He asks curiously with a raised brow, inching closer to her.
“Money isn’t the only currency there is, especially out here in Hollywood."
Dieter studies her for a few moments trying to understand what she could mean.
“A-are you… do you…” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the question without possibly offending her.
“No, I’m not a prostitute if that’s what you’re going to ask,” she chuckles. "But you wouldn't be the first person to think that."
"I'm not judging." He puts his hands up in defense. "Everyone's gotta do whatever they can to survive."
"Especially out here in the wild, wild West. People are nice to each other, but in the end it's everyone for themselves." She tips her head to him.
"I wish you success but also hope I get the role instead of you, ha ha ha,” she mocks with an obvious fake laugh and then rolls her eyes. "So much ego."
“Ouch. Sounds like you've been burned before.” Dieter walks over to her.
"Yeah, but I have thick skin. You've gotta have that to be in this game. You've gotta grow one after the umpteenth rejection. Or even worse, having to suck it up and reject a role because you refuse to suck a dick for it— a background role at that. You mind?" She pulls out a joint and the corner of his lips turn up.
“Not if you share," he replies.
She lights it up and after taking a pull, she hands it to him.
"Can't say I've had the opportunity to suck a dick for a role yet," he chuckles before taking a hit.
"Oh, trust me, you will. There is no discrimination. Women might get it more often, but there are definitely men who have fucked to get a role as well."
“I should be, but why am I not surprised?” he chimes in.
“Enough of all this talk. It’s bringing the mood down. Oh, I’ve got an idea!” she says, taking a drag of the joint as she lays down on his bed. “Draw me like one of your French girls.”
"Are you for real?" he asks.
"Yes, I am." She takes another drag and passes the joint back to him before starting to strip down.
Dieter is shocked and speechless. He is in awe as he watches her remove her clothes until she's down to her lacy underwear. Her braless breasts hang freely as she lays down on her side, just like Rose did.
“Are you just gonna stare at me all night or do you need more drugs?” she asks him after a few moments.
“I’m just admiring the art that’s already in front of me,” he replies before taking another toke of the joint. “Not sure if any amount of drugs will do it any justice.”
“You’re sweet,” she comments as warmth rises to her face. “But I wanna see what you see. As they say, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”
Dieter continues to study her for a few more seconds before finally nodding.
“Alright. I think I got something.”
He passes the joint back to her and with that, Dieter starts squeezing some paint onto his palette, mixing colors and spreading them on the canvas. His dark round eyes dart around her face and body, taking in the image in front of him and then finally scraping some paint onto the canvas to spit out what his mind is processing.
She can’t see what he’s doing but notices he’s using a lot of different colors and broad strokes. After about ten minutes of this, a wide smirk plays on his face.
“What? Do I look silly like a Picasso or something?” She asks.
“No,” he shakes his head. “I just can’t believe the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met is naked on my bed, asking me to paint her.”
“You don’t get a lot of women getting naked in your bed for a portrait?” She teases before taking another drag and passing it on to Dieter.
“No,” he laughs, taking a pull of his own.
“Although, I’m not quite naked yet.” Beatrice slides off the bed and struts towards him. “Let me see what you’ve got so far.”
“No, no, it’s not quite finished—“
She takes a peek despite his protests and the breath is knocked out of her.
“Dieter, this is…” She’s at a loss for words.
“Yeah, I know, it’s… it’s really rough and—”
“This is beautiful!” She turns to him.
It’s a somewhat abstract piece with globs of paint spackled onto the canvas. He highlighted the soft features of her face and how her tendrils of long curls hung off her head. Her bright red lips pop out against the browns, beiges and yellows behind it. A splash of blue and green in the background pulls her away from the canvas. While her body isn’t complete yet, the simple and rough outline he laid out seemed intentional. If he hadn’t said anything, she would have thought he was finished.
“Thank you, you’re kind.” His face heats up as he rubs the back of his neck.
“I mean it, Dieter. Seriously! You have a gift.”
Dieter is now the one speechless. His face starts to get warm and pink.
“But maybe you need a closer look to finish this painting. Catch the details you might have missed.”
Beatrice proceeds to push her panties down until they hit the floor, which made his jaw do that as well. She then takes the joint from him, takes a big hit and straddles his lap. Leaning in, her lips graze his as she opens her mouth. He opens up his own and sucks in the smoke into his lungs. After a moment, their lips meet and they begin to make out, working up to fog his windows.
***
When Dieter wasn't at an audition or waiting on people, he spent most of his time with Beatrice. They'd sneak into movie theaters to catch a flick, especially when they were playing classics, which they both appreciated, but many times they ended up making out instead. Sometimes they'd take long strolls along the Santa Monica pier while smoking weed. At some point, she introduced him to cocaine and whatever drugs she was able to get her hands on, and in turn he would churn out pieces of art while admiring her, his muse.
They did almost everything together. They laughed, cried, loved, and tripped together. They even went on auditions together and supported each other in preparing for them. He had such a strong connection with her, sharing the same passions and navigating life together in this crazy movie town. He thought he found his soulmate.
It was the best time of his life. He was living his own Hollywood movie and he felt like he was at the top of the world, just like Jack Dawson, but he then learned he’s no Leonardo DiCaprio. As quickly as he got high on all this, the crash came down just as fast.
"I don't understand," Dieter says, confused.
"You don't make friends in this business, Dieter. You make transactions and deals."
"Wow," he could only muster up with wide eyes. "What about relationships? Friendships? Do you have any connection - a genuine connection - with anyone?"
"The only connections I need are transactional. I give something in exchange for something else, whether it be for survival, pleasure or power."
He scrubs a hand over his face and studies her for a few moments.
"So what was I? What did you get in exchange for... for whatever this is?" Dieter asks, waving his hand between them.
"You had a good time, right?" she shrugs as she throws a small smile.
"This was more than just a good time for me," Dieter shoots back with air quotes. "I-I thought we had something special. We talked about making it in Hollywood together!”
"Oh, honey..." she frowns and reaches for his face, but he flinches, pulling away from her and walking off.
"How do you-- how can you--" Dieter takes a deep breath to compose himself.
"Hollywood is going to eat you alive, sweetheart. You're not cut out for this place," Beatrice shakes her head.
"No," Dieter shakes his head. "You get one fucking role and then you think you're too good for me?"
"It's nothing personal," she explains. "I'm just playing by the rules. I didn't create them. And once I'm in, like in in, I can help maybe you get your foot in too."
Dieter is speechless. He just stares at her with misty eyes and brows turned down, shaking his head in disappointment.
“I don’t need your charity or… or your fucking connections! Did you have to suck a dick for that role?”
She looks back at him in disgust and scoffs.
“No need to be rude. I earned that role,” she replies with her arms crossed.
“That’s not a no,” he retorts.
“Whatever. I don’t need to explain myself,” she huffs. “Look, I just came to tell you I can’t see you anymore and to pick up my things and say goodbye.”
Dieter just stares at her again, trying to process what is unfolding as the reality sinks in.
“Just go. Take your shit and go,” he simply says.
After she gathers her things, she takes one more glance at him.
“Goodbye, Dieter.”
When he doesn’t respond, she finally walks out the door, leaving Dieter to cry alone and pick up the broken pieces of his heart.
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The ✨️Genders✨️ of the Pedro Pascal Cinematic Universe:
Asshole (affectionate)
Babygirl (derogatory)
Babygirl (affectionate)
Slut
#pedro pascal cinematic universe#pedro pascal#ezra prospect#prospect 2018#joel miller#tlou#hbo tlou#agent whiskey#kingsman the golden circle#javier peña#narcos#oberyn martell#game of thrones#dieter bravo#the bubble#din djarin#the mandalorian#javi gutierrez#the unbearable weight of massive talent#tuwomt#hbo the last of us
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#i feel like this outfit isn't talked about nearly enough
#pedropascaledit#ppascaledit#ppascaldaily#pedrohub#pedro pascal#dilfgifs#mancandykings#userallisyn#userfanni#useriselin#userkam#tusercora#tuserpolly#xuserannie#dieter bravo#the bubble#g:pp#oaks#flashing tw#this outfit is VERY river coded#they would wear the hell out of this
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pedro pascal and his gorgeous side profile (and very rideable nose)
#the feminism leaving my body when i see a man with a big nose#pedro pascal#the last of us#the unbearable weight of massive talent#merge mansion#the bubble#don’t look at me 🏃🏻♀️#need him so bad#plsplspls#joel miller#javi gutierrez#tim rockford#dieter bravo
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Happy pride month from me and the canon-queer Pedro boys! 🏳️🌈💚
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Hypothetically speaking…how would we feel about a little slumber party!dieter and you’re his best friend. After all your friends go to sleep, (lame) you and dieter get stupid high, paint his nails, do his makeup and then absolutely messily make out with a little mutual masturbation action because 😮💨
Okay, okay, the voices have won again! I’m gonna write this 🫡
#dieter bravo#dieter bravo smut#I just wanna write something silly#and I absolutely would love to be at a slumber party with dieter are you kidding??#I wouldn’t know how to behave
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HAPPY BIRTHDAY PEDRO PASCAL
April 2nd, 1975
#pedro pascal#ppascaledit#pedropascaledit#pedrohub#dilfsource#mancandykings#myppedit#myedit#userclo#tusercora#userelio#useremi#userfanni#userjoanne#usernik#tusernicky#userpayton#tuserpolly#joel miller#dieter bravo#frankie morales#ezra#javier peña#javi gutierrez#din djarin#agent whiskey
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makes me so eepy
#my daily delusions😌🙏#favorite part of every day#joel miller#pedro pascal#joel miller x reader#joel miller x y/n#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x y/n#pedro pascal cinematic universe#pedro pascal characters#frankie catfish morales#francisco morales#frankie morales x reader#dieter bravo#dieter bravo x reader#din djarin#din djarin x reader#javier peña#javier pena x you#javier pena x reader#javier pena
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