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mysterious-musings-chaos-corner · 16 days ago

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Here you go again, hitting me with the feels. This was so many things…heartbreaking, cute, amazing. You know I love it when Dieter gets his shit together. I also love it when Daddy Dieter mode kicks in.

You did an excellent job handling some sensitive topics. Love the beautiful and hopeful ending. 💜👏

Life Well Loved | Dieter Bravo

Originally posted on September 17, 2024 as @drewharrisonwriter

Word Count: 13,011 words

Summary: Dieter Bravo’s life proves that plans are overrated—and he’s never been more right about not having one.

A/N & Warnings: 18+ MDNI. Am I having a Dieter brain rot? Why yes, yes, I am. I know I should be writing the next chapter of Lifeline, but here we are. This story contains themes of pregnancy and navigating unexpected life changes, with emotionally intense scenes that touch on topics like potential pregnancy termination, personal doubts, and fears. Though it's mostly fluff, the narrative leans toward a hopeful and supportive direction but explores the complexities of relationships and personal growth. Because hey, it's Dieter!

Dieter Bravo never thought he’d end up married, let alone to his best friend.

It wasn’t the kind of love story he had planned for himself, but then again, Dieter’s plans were usually an afterthought to his impulsive nature. He met her—his wife, the love of his life—years ago at a book signing. He’d been dragged there by a friend who swore her mystery novels were like something straight out of an Agatha Christie thriller, but with a modern, edgier twist.

“Come on, man. Just try something new,” his friend had nudged, practically shoving Dieter into the crowded bookstore. “She’s hot and her books are actually good. Not that you’d know.”

Dieter rolled his eyes but followed, pretending not to care. He didn’t read much beyond scripts, but when he saw her—standing there all wide-eyed and charming behind the signing table, chatting easily with fans—he was hooked. She had this warmth about her, a smile that reached her eyes, and a way of making everyone feel like they were the only person in the room.

When it was his turn in line, Dieter cleared his throat, a little unsure of what to say. “So, uh, is it true you based your killer on your ex?” he asked, flashing her his signature smirk.

She looked up, amused. “Only the charming parts. The murderous tendencies are purely fictional.”

Dieter chuckled, genuinely entertained. “Good to know. I’ll keep my charming side in check.”

She laughed, and Dieter swore he could listen to that sound all day. But the moment passed quickly, and they parted ways, the brief exchange lingering in Dieter’s mind longer than he’d like to admit.

They didn’t reconnect until months later when Dieter landed the role of a lifetime in the film adaptation of one of her books. He played the brooding lead, a role he was born to play, and she was on set every day, consulting on the story she knew better than anyone.

“Bravo!” she called out one afternoon, waving the script in the air as he finished a scene. “I think you missed a line, but you definitely nailed the smirk.”

“Missed the line? Nah, I made it better,” Dieter shot back, strutting over with that effortless confidence of his. “Besides, isn’t the lead supposed to be mysterious and broody? I’m just adding layers.”

She rolled her eyes, smiling. “Layers of bullshit, maybe.”

Their banter was easy, and soon, late nights spent in hotel bars became their thing. They’d laugh over terrible room service and even worse dialogue changes, often rewriting entire scenes together between drinks.

“Do you think the audience is gonna buy this twist?” Dieter asked one night, his brow furrowed as he scribbled on a napkin. “It’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

“It’s a mystery, Bravo. It’s supposed to be dramatic,” she said, playfully nudging his shoulder. “Besides, you’re the one bringing it to life. If anyone can sell it, it’s you.”

Over the years, their friendship grew deeper. Dieter adored her—not just for her talent, but for the way she saw right through him. She didn’t care about the Hollywood persona; she cared about the guy who struggled with his lines, laughed too loudly, and occasionally got lost in his own head. And it was clear to anyone who knew him that she was the only one who truly got him.

“Why do you even stick around?” Dieter asked one night, half-drunk and more vulnerable than he intended. They were sitting on the balcony of some hotel in Vancouver, the city lights flickering below them, empty glasses scattered between them.

She looked over at him, surprised at the question but not at the insecurity behind it. “You’re kidding, right? Who else is gonna put up with my obsessive rewriting of everything?”

Dieter smirked, but the self-deprecation was still there, hovering. “I’m serious, baby. You’ve seen me at my worst. Hell, you’ve probably seen me at my best, and let’s be real, there’s not a whole lot of difference.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was affection in the gesture. “Come on, Dee. You think I don’t know who you are? I’ve watched you screw up a million times and still pull it off somehow. You’re not as hopeless as you think.”

“Yeah, but it’s all smoke and mirrors,” he muttered, leaning back and staring at the city. “I’m just this mess pretending to be a movie star. And people buy it, but I don’t know how much longer I can keep up the act.”

She leaned closer, her smile gentle but knowing. “You’re not acting, Dee. This is you—chaotic, brilliant, all over the place. And somehow it works. That’s why people love you. It’s why I love you.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Sure, but it’s not exactly the stuff that makes for a stable life. I can’t even commit to a weekly gym routine, let alone… you know, anything permanent.”

“Well, it’s good you know that about yourself,” she said, her tone more serious now. “But just because you’re not ready for all that doesn’t mean you’re a failure. You’ve built this crazy, messy, amazing life, and you’ve done it on your terms.”

Dieter glanced at her, the sincerity in her eyes almost too much to bear. “But it’s still just a mess, right? Like, I don’t know how to be the guy who settles down, who has the white picket fence and the kids. It’s not in me.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t make you any less,” she pointed out, nudging his knee with hers. “You’re the guy who shows up when it counts, who makes people laugh when they need it, who cares more than he lets on. And that’s enough, Dee. It really is.”

Dieter stared at her, his expression softening. “You make it sound like I’m not totally screwing everything up.”

“Because you’re not,” she said simply, giving him a small, reassuring smile. “You’re doing what works for you, and that’s more than most people can say. So don’t be so hard on yourself, okay?”

They sat in a comfortable silence, the kind that comes from knowing each other inside and out. Dieter wasn’t sure if he could ever really change, but with her by his side, he felt like maybe he didn’t need to.

The media loved to ask when Dieter Bravo, Hollywood’s lovable mess, was going to settle down. He always laughed it off, brushing it aside with jokes and his trademark self-deprecation. “Settle down?” he’d scoff to reporters, flashing that crooked grin. “Have kids? I can barely take care of myself. I mean, who’s gonna look after the baby when I’m off in Cabo or Amsterdam on a bender?”

He was always open about not wanting to be tied down, convinced that marriage and fatherhood were responsibilities he’d inevitably screw up just like everything else. Deep down, he didn’t think he was cut out for it. Not the commitment, not the kids—none of it. And yet, every time he thought about those nights spent talking with her, he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, he could be more than the sum of his fears.

The truth was, Dieter loved being around kids, especially when visiting his favorite charities—arts programs, hospitals, anywhere that needed his presence to brighten the day. He had a soft spot for the kids who showed up at his movie premieres with homemade signs and for the shy ones who peeked out from behind their parents at hospital visits, their eyes lighting up at the sight of a real-life movie star. He’d spend hours signing autographs, posing for pictures, and handing out gifts. But wanting that momentary joy and having it every day were two entirely different things, and he didn’t think he was built for the kind of life that meant forever.

Then there was Vegas. It was one of those wild weekends that only Dieter and his friends could pull off, the kind that started with a simple plan and spiraled into chaos before anyone could catch their breath. They were there to celebrate a friend’s birthday—a milestone that felt more like a warning than a celebration to Dieter, who had spent the better part of the year dodging questions about settling down and growing up.

The night was a blur of neon lights, overpriced drinks, and the kind of reckless energy that only Vegas could inspire. Dieter and his best friend were deep into their third round of shots at some tacky but charming casino bar, laughing so hard their sides hurt. The conversation was easy, like it always was, jumping from half-remembered movie quotes to bad relationship stories that only got funnier with every shot.

“Remember when you two were drunk off margaritas and swore you’d get married if you were still single at 35?” one of their friends blurted out, pointing at Dieter and her with a tipsy grin. “Well, look at that—clock’s ticking, you two.”

“Oh please, they’d kill each other in a week,” another friend chimed in, rolling their eyes dramatically. “But hey, at least the headlines would be great.”

Dieter leaned back, smirking. “You think she’d kill me? I’m charming as hell.”

She snorted, leaning in closer to Dieter. “Charming? Sure, Dee, if charming means spilling three drinks and forgetting your lines.”

“Oh, you love it, don’t lie,” Dieter shot back, nudging her shoulder playfully.

Their friends egged them on, throwing out half-baked marriage advice between sips of whatever was in their glasses. “Just make sure you don’t pull a Ross and say the wrong name at the altar,” one joked, and they all burst into laughter, doubling over as the drinks kept flowing.

“Hey, I can pronounce her name just fine,” Dieter retorted, raising his glass to her. “What do you say, baby? You and me, Vegas style.”

“Wel…we’re way past 35 now…” she said, still smiling but now with a hint of mischief, “technically, we missed our window… so might as well make good on that old pact, right?”

Dieter stared at her, the room spinning slightly as he tried to read between the lines. They were supposed to be just friends, right? But it didn’t feel like a joke anymore, not when she looked at him like that. And for once, he didn’t want to think it through. He didn’t want to second-guess it or talk himself out of it like he usually did.

“Fuck it,” Dieter said, grinning wider than he had in months. “Let’s do it. You and me, baby. Let’s get hitched.”

Their friends erupted in cheers, half-shocked, half-encouraging, but it didn’t matter. They were drunk on cheap tequila and the reckless abandon of the Vegas Strip, where anything seemed possible. Before Dieter knew it, they were stumbling into a tacky little chapel off the main drag, the kind with neon hearts and an Elvis impersonator in the back who’d seen one too many late-night weddings.

The ceremony was a blur. Dieter remembered laughing so hard that he nearly dropped the ring—some gaudy, oversized thing they’d bought from a souvenir shop on the way over—and the way she squeezed his hand so tightly he could feel her nerves mixing with his own. There were no big speeches or dramatic declarations of love, just a lot of giggling, whispered jokes, and the kind of easy joy that felt like it belonged to them and them alone.

“Do you, Dieter Bravo, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” the Elvis officiant drawled, barely keeping it together.

Dieter glanced at her, still half-expecting her to back out at the last second. But she was looking at him, eyes full of that familiar mix of sarcasm and something deeper that he’d never quite put a name to. “I do,” he said, and for once, it didn’t feel like a lie.

“And do you, sweetheart, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?” Elvis asked, already cracking a grin.

She squeezed Dieter’s hand, barely containing her laughter. “Hell yeah, I do.”

Elvis squinted, pausing dramatically. “Are you sure? Divorces are expensive. Trust me, I’ve had three.”

Their friends howled from the pews, tossing out quips. “Yeah, blink twice if you need an escape plan!” one of them shouted, while another chimed in, “You’re stuck with him now, good luck!”

Dieter threw his arm around her, laughing so hard his sides hurt. “Don’t worry, baby, I’m the best terrible decision you’ll ever make.”

She leaned in, grinning. “Guess we’re both screwed then.”

They kissed, and it was messy and off-center, but it felt right. It was the kind of kiss that was more about the laughter and less about the perfection of the moment, which was exactly how Dieter liked it. When they pulled apart, he was breathless, and she was glowing in a way that made the whole crazy, impulsive thing feel like the best decision he’d ever made.

They walked out of that chapel with matching rings and a new reality that neither of them fully understood but were more than willing to figure out together. And in true Dieter fashion, they celebrated the only way they knew how—by grabbing greasy burgers at an all-night diner and gambling away the rest of the night like newlyweds who couldn’t care less about what tomorrow would bring.

For once in his life, Dieter didn’t feel like he was running from anything. He was running toward something—toward her—and it felt like the only thing that made sense.

–

The first few months of marriage were an unpredictable whirlwind, much like the wedding itself. There were no grand changes, no dramatic shifts—just more of the same easy companionship they’d always had, now with the added humor of “Mrs. Bravo�� peppered into their banter. They spent mornings in Dieter’s cluttered kitchen, arguing over the best way to make coffee while stumbling over each other in pajamas that never quite matched. Evenings were spent curled up on the couch, watching bad movies and stealing kisses during the credits like lovesick teenagers.

Their friends couldn’t get enough of it, either. The tabloids had gone wild over the news—Dieter Bravo, Hollywood’s most notorious bachelor, suddenly married to his long-time friend in a drunken Vegas escapade. Headlines like “Bravo’s Big Gamble” and “Hollywood’s Wildest Newlyweds” splashed across every gossip rag in the country. But Dieter and his wife took it in stride, shrugging off the noise and focusing on what actually mattered: them.

His family had been just as surprised but in the best way. They had welcomed her with open arms from the very first time she and Dieter had visited together. His mom had pulled her into a tight hug at the door, immediately peppering her with questions about her books and telling her how she had a shelf dedicated to them in the living room. Dieter’s siblings loved her, too—his sister often roping her into baking sessions in the kitchen, laughing over old stories about Dieter’s childhood antics that usually ended with him covered in mud or glitter or some combination of both.

It wasn’t long before she became a staple in their family gatherings, fitting in as if she’d always been there. Sunday dinners at the Bravo house turned into her favorite ritual. She’d help Dieter’s mom in the kitchen, rolling out dough for pies while swapping recipes and stories. Dieter’s nieces and nephews adored her, crowding around to hear tales of mystery and adventure, eyes wide as she brought her characters to life with every word.

“Can you tell us the one about the detective who finds the secret tunnel again?” one of his nephews had asked during Thanksgiving, tugging at her sleeve.

She smiled, glancing at Dieter, who was sitting at the head of the table, grinning like an idiot. “Only if you promise to help me figure out what’s at the end of it,” she teased, ruffling his hair.

His father, a retired fertility expert who had always been the more reserved member of the family, quickly warmed up to her, too. They’d sit on the porch during long afternoons, sipping coffee and talking about life, books, and the occasional scientific trivia that she found endlessly fascinating. He appreciated her wit, her genuine interest in everyone around her, and the way she always seemed to make his son smile.

As the year rolled by, the Bravo family embraced her more and more, and she felt a sense of belonging she hadn’t expected. She was no longer just Dieter’s wife; she was a daughter-in-law, a sister, and an aunt. She was family.

So when Christmas rolled around again, she was eager to be back at the Bravo household, despite feeling under the weather. She’d been sick for nearly two weeks, and Dieter had been worried. She barely ate, surviving mostly on pesto chicken paninis and iced coffee—the only things she could keep down. Still, she was excited to see his family, to bask in the warmth of his mother’s home-cooked meals and his sister-in-law’s desserts. She was looking forward to being surrounded by people who loved her as much as she loved them.

The moment they stepped through the front door, Dieter’s mom engulfed her in a hug, commenting on how thin she looked, and his sister immediately dragged her into the kitchen, insisting on making her favorite cookies. Dieter watched from the doorway, leaning against the frame with a smile. She fit here—so naturally, so effortlessly—that it almost made him forget how odd it all still felt to be someone’s husband. But then she’d look at him across the room, with that same smile she’d had since the bar in Vegas, and it felt right.

But as they settled into the cozy familiarity of his childhood home, Dieter’s father began to notice something. It wasn’t just that she looked tired—there was something else. A subtle glow to her skin, the way her eyes would soften when she looked at Dieter, the quiet but unmistakable aversions to certain foods she normally loved. When she grimaced at the sight of his wife’s famous lasagna and instead picked at a simple salad, he raised an eyebrow. He had seen it before, four times with his own wife, and the theory formed in his mind almost instantly.

It was the little things: how she leaned into Dieter when she thought no one was looking, resting her head on his shoulder like she couldn’t quite keep herself upright; the way her laughter was softer, tinged with something almost nervous. She hadn’t touched a drop of wine the entire evening, claiming she wasn’t in the mood, which was unlike her—especially when Dieter’s mom brought out her favorite bottle from the cellar.

Dieter’s dad observed quietly, piecing together the signs with a mix of curiosity and growing certainty. He knew better than to jump to conclusions, but every instinct told him that there was more to her recent sickness than a simple bug.

–

Later that evening, after dinner, Dieter and his father found themselves outside on the patio. The chill in the air was biting, and Dieter’s breath formed little puffs of smoke as he lit a cigarette, the faint glow of the ember flickering in the dark. He offered one to his dad, who simply shook his head, declining as usual. They settled into an easy silence, the kind that came from years of shared moments like these, watching the yard stretch out before them, dotted with twinkling Christmas lights that cast a warm, festive glow over the familiar landscape.

Dieter took a long drag, savoring the brief buzz of nicotine, and leaned back in his chair. It was quiet, the kind of quiet that always made him think too much, but tonight he welcomed it. He glanced sideways at his dad, whose face was half-lit by the soft glow of the porch light, lost in thought as he nursed his coffee.

“You know, son,” his father said finally, breaking the silence, “I couldn’t help but notice something about her tonight.”

Dieter raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Yeah? Like what?”

His father hesitated, his expression thoughtful as he swirled the coffee in his mug. “She’s been feeling under the weather, hasn’t she? Seems a bit off.”

Dieter nodded, taking another drag and blowing out the smoke in a slow stream. “Yeah, she’s been sick for a couple of weeks. Picky about food, which isn’t like her. She’s basically living on those pesto chicken paninis. She can’t keep much else down.”

His father chuckled softly, the sound low and knowing, like he was recalling something long ago. “Huh. That’s interesting. Reminds me of your mom back in the day.”

Dieter frowned, glancing over at him. “What do you mean?”

There was a pause, and his father’s eyes stayed fixed on the yard, lost in a memory that Dieter couldn’t quite place. Finally, he spoke, his tone careful, almost gentle. “Have you considered she might be pregnant?”

Dieter’s reaction was instant—he snorted, nearly choking on his cigarette smoke as he laughed it off, but the sound was more nervous than amused. “Pregnant? Nah, no way. She’s got an IUD. Besides, we’ve been careful.”

His father smiled, but it wasn’t condescending. It was the kind of smile that spoke of experience, of having lived through more than one surprise in his lifetime. “IUDs aren’t foolproof, son. Nothing is. And I’ve seen those signs before. Aversions, fatigue, the way she looked at food tonight… I saw it with your mother every time she was pregnant.”

Dieter’s laugh faded, replaced by an uncomfortable tightness in his chest. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging slightly at the ends as his mind raced. “You’re serious?”

“Look, I’m not saying she is,” his father said, raising his hands in a small gesture of surrender. “But I’ve been around this long enough to know the signs when I see them. I’m just saying, it’s possible.”

Dieter stared out at the yard, the once comforting sight now blurred by the thoughts colliding in his mind. He tried to dismiss it, to chalk it up to his dad’s habit of overanalyzing things. But suddenly, every little moment from the past few weeks replayed in his head like a reel he couldn’t pause: the way she’d cried over soup earlier that evening, overwhelmed by finally finding something she could eat; the quiet, tired smiles; the sudden need to rest her head on his shoulder whenever she got the chance. Dieter had brushed it off as just a rough patch—nothing serious, nothing that couldn’t be fixed with rest and time.

But now, hearing his father say it out loud, it all started to click. The missed meals, the strange cravings, her emotional reactions to things that normally wouldn’t faze her. It was like putting together a puzzle he didn’t even know he was working on.

“What do I do if you’re right?” Dieter finally asked, his voice low, tinged with a mix of fear and something else he couldn’t quite name.

His father took another sip of his coffee, considering his son carefully. “You talk to her. Find out for sure. And whatever the outcome, you handle it together. That’s what this is, Dieter. Marriage, family—it's not about knowing every answer. It’s about facing it together, no matter how unexpected it is.”

Dieter nodded, though his mind was still reeling. He didn’t know if he was ready for what his father was suggesting, but one thing was clear: he needed to talk to her. His dad’s words hung heavy in the cold night air, and suddenly, the easygoing world Dieter had grown comfortable in felt a little less certain.

–

That night, back in their room at Dieter’s parents’ house, the tension lingered like a thick fog. They were staying for the weekend, and though the familiarity of the guest room usually felt comforting, tonight it felt like the walls were closing in. Dieter sprawled out on the bed, flipping through channels on the TV without really watching. His mind was a mess of half-formed thoughts, circling back to the conversation with his father, and he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling gnawing at him.

She was curled up next to him, absorbed in her Kindle, but every so often, Dieter noticed her shifting slightly, like she couldn’t quite get comfortable. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, trying to figure out how to bring up what was weighing on him without sounding like he’d lost his mind.

“So, funny story,” Dieter started, forcing a lightness into his tone that he didn’t feel. “My dad has this theory. He thinks you might be pregnant.”

She looked up from her Kindle, her brow furrowing as she processed his words. “What? Where’d that come from?”

“Yeah, I know,” Dieter laughed, though it sounded more nervous than amused. He fidgeted with the remote, clicking through channels too fast to see what was on. “He’s been watching you tonight, noticing stuff. You know, the food aversions and all that. He said something about it reminding him of when my mom was pregnant.”

She blinked, staring at him like she wasn’t sure if he was joking or serious. “That’s… random. I mean, it’s just paninis and iced coffee. And I’ve been stressed, that’s all. I mean, I have an IUD.”

“Yeah, that’s what I told him,” Dieter said, shrugging. “I told him it’s not possible, right? But he kept going on about how those things aren’t foolproof and—”

She cut him off, her laugh sharp and a little shaky. “No, yeah, of course. It’s just… I mean, we’ve been careful. I thought…”

Dieter raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk crossing his lips. “Careful? Are we really?” He gave her a knowing look, recalling their many reckless moments. “I mean, I lost count of the times we said, ‘eh, what’s the worst that could happen?’”

She groaned, burying her face in her hands, but she couldn’t hide the grin peeking through. “Oh God, don’t remind me. You said it’d be fine because ‘science, baby!’”

“Yeah, classic me,” Dieter laughed, feeling the tension break just a little. “Maybe our ‘science’ needs some workshopping.”

They chuckled, genuinely amused by their own recklessness. For a moment, it felt like any other night, just the two of them joking around like they always did. But then the laughter faded, and the unspoken possibility lingered, nudging at the back of their minds.

Dieter hesitated, then set the remote down, his voice dropping to a softer, more vulnerable tone. “IUDs aren’t a hundred percent, you know.”

She didn’t say anything right away, her eyes locked on him as if searching for some reassurance he couldn’t quite give. Finally, she set her Kindle aside, pulling her knees up to her chest. “Do you think… do you think he’s right?”

The question hung in the air, too big to ignore, and neither of them moved. Dieter rubbed the back of his neck, his mind racing. “I don’t know, baby. But we could… find out.”

She nodded, her breath hitching slightly, and they didn’t wait to talk themselves out of it. The drive to the pharmacy was tense and quiet, but the nervous energy turned into something almost comical when they got inside. Dieter, trying to look inconspicuous in his cap and mask, accidentally grabbed a COVID test from the shelf and tossed it in the basket without looking.

She glanced at it, biting back a laugh. “Dee, unless you’re worried I’ve got a pandemic brewing, I think you grabbed the wrong kind of test.”

“What?” He squinted at the box, his eyes widening. “Oh, shit. I just saw ‘test’ and panicked. Could you imagine? ‘Congratulations, you’re… COVID positive!’”

They both snorted, trying to suppress their laughter as they swapped it out for a pile of pregnancy tests. “At least we’re wearing masks,” she quipped, trying to hide her nerves behind the humor.

Dieter nodded, their masks pulling at their grins as they paid quickly and slipped back out into the night. Back in their room, she took the tests into Dieter’s private bathroom, thankful she didn’t have to make the awkward walk down the hallway past his nephews, who were still glued to the PlayStation. Dieter paced the room, his anxiety growing with every passing second. He could hear the faint sounds of her moving in the bathroom—running water, the crinkle of plastic, the sound of her soft sighs—and each noise sent a jolt of unease through him.

He ran his hands through his hair, messing it up even more, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts. What if his dad was right? What if they were really about to become parents? He didn’t know how to do this—any of it. He wasn’t cut out to be a dad. Hell, he could barely take care of himself most days. But then he thought about her, about the way she used to talk about wanting a family, back in the early days of their friendship, years before they got married. She’d share those dreams in the quiet moments when they were lying in bed, late at night, her voice soft and wistful as she painted a picture of a life she wanted someday—one with kids, a messy house full of love, and mornings that started with chaos and ended with bedtime stories.

He hadn’t heard her talk about it in a long time, not since they’d crossed the line from best friends to whatever it was they’d become now. They hadn’t really discussed it after they got married, like the possibility had just been a footnote in their drunken Vegas vows, not something real. But Dieter knew she probably still wanted it, that deep down, those dreams hadn’t gone away, just tucked themselves into a quieter part of her heart.

And now, for the first time, Dieter let himself admit what he’d been denying all along—he wanted it, too. He tried to fight it, tried to tell himself he was still the same guy who didn’t want to be tied down, but the truth was, he’d settled down the moment he said “I do.” And now… he’s sure he’s ready to dream of that life, too. The one where they weren’t just figuring things out as they went but actually working towards something together, as husband and wife, as mom and dad.

Finally, the bathroom door creaked open, and she stepped out, her face pale and her hands trembling slightly. She didn’t have to say anything; Dieter could see the truth in her eyes. Without a word, he followed her into the bathroom, and there they were, lined up on the counter: five pregnancy tests, each one showing two clear lines.

Positive. All of them.

Dieter stared at the tests, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find something, anything, to say. He could hear her breathing beside him, shallow and uneven, and he knew her heart was pounding just as hard as his. She swallowed, her eyes fixed on the tests as if they might change if she stared long enough.

She finally broke the silence, her voice small but steady. “It’s okay, Dieter. You don’t have to worry about it. I’ll… I’ll take care of it.”

–

Her words snapped Dieter back to reality, his brows furrowing as he tried to grasp what she meant. He watched her walk past him out of the bathroom, her movements brisk and determined, but there was a tremble in her step that made his stomach drop. She went straight to the dresser, grabbing her phone with a familiar sense of purpose. Dieter followed, his confusion mounting as she dialed a number with shaky hands.

“What are you doing?” Dieter asked, his voice edged with growing alarm. “Who are you calling in the middle of the night?”

She glanced at him but didn’t answer directly. “It’s fine, Dee. I’m going to take care of it.”

The line clicked, and a familiar voice filled the silence—one of her friends, an OB-GYN Dieter had met several times at dinner parties and gatherings. “Hey, I’m sorry to call so late,” she said into the phone, her voice tight but controlled. “I need another favor.”

Dieter’s heart sank as he heard the gasp on the other end. The doctor’s voice wavered, filled with concern. “Are you sure? I mean… are you really sure about this?”

Dieter watched her, still trying to catch up, but he could hear the tension in the doctor’s voice and the weight of what was being asked. She glanced at him, her eyes meeting his, and in that moment, Dieter felt like the ground was slipping out from under him. “I’m sure,” she said quietly. “I’ll wait for the prescription in the morning.”

She ended the call and set the phone down, her hand trembling. Dieter felt his shock morphing into a hot, simmering anger, his chest tightening as he tried to make sense of what he’d just heard. “What?” he asked, his voice rising, desperate to believe he’d misheard. “What prescription? Prenatal vitamins?” He was trying to hold onto some hope, clinging to the possibility that this wasn’t what it seemed, that she wasn’t about to make a decision without him. But deep down, he knew.

She sighed, biting her lower lip, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words seemed to catch in her throat. Dieter could see her knees wobble, and before he could process it, she was leaning against the side table, her legs barely holding her up. He rushed to her, guiding her gently to the bed and kneeling before her, his anger wavering as he saw the look in her eyes.

Tears streamed down her face, silent and relentless, and Dieter realized it was the first time he’d seen her cry in years. Not since her father had passed, not even when she’d broken up with someone he knew she had loved deeply. She was always so strong, so composed, but now she was trembling, and all she could manage were soft, broken apologies. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice cracking as she repeated it over and over. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Dieter’s anger melted away, replaced by a sharp pain that pierced his chest. He reached up, cupping her face gently, wiping away the tears that continued to fall. “Hey, hey, calm down, okay? Just… baby, please… can you tell me what that was all about?”

She nodded, her breath hitching as she tried to collect herself. The silence between them was tense, heavy with unspoken fears and the weight of what was happening. Finally, she spoke, her voice small and wavering. “I know you don’t want kids, Dieter. I’ve known that from the start, and I respect that. I love you so much, and I know I don’t say it often, but I do. I love the life we have together. And I didn’t… I didn’t want to ruin that.”

Dieter listened, the words sinking in, but every syllable felt like a sting. “You’re not ruining anything, baby,” he said, his voice softer now but still edged with confusion and hurt. “But you didn’t even… I mean, we didn’t even talk about it.”

She looked down, her tears falling faster now. “I was afraid to. You’ve always been so clear, and I didn’t want to make you feel trapped. I know kids were never part of the plan. I didn’t want to put that on you.”

Dieter took a deep breath, his mind still reeling, but he tried to keep his voice steady. “You’re not–Jesus…I understand why you feel this way baby…” he said gently, squeezing her hands. “And I’m sorry we never talked about it before, not even once. I know I said I didn’t want kids, and I thought that was it. But… then…” He sighed deeply… “W-we should at least talk about it before you go and get that prescription in the morning.”

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and glistening with tears, clearly caught between fear and guilt. “Dieter, I—”

“No, listen,” he interrupted softly, his tone calm but firm. “I want you to know that whatever you decide, I’ll support you. I’ll stand by you no matter what. But I need to know that if you go through with this, it’s because you want to, not because you think it’s what I want. I respect you, and I love you. And yeah, maybe I’ve always been afraid of having kids, but I also know you’ve wanted this. I’ve known for years, and I’m sorry we’ve never talked about it since getting married. But maybe… maybe now’s the time we should.”

She shook her head, biting her lip to keep it from trembling. “I don’t want to pop our bubble, Dieter. I’ve spent so long thinking that if I brought this up, it would be too much for you. You’ve said it before—kids are overwhelming, right? And I get it. Hell, the thought of it overwhelms me, too. But it’s different for you. I didn’t want to lose you. I love you so much, Dee. I love what we have. And I was scared that… that if I bring it up, it would drive you away.”

Dieter’s heart ached as he watched her, the weight of her words sinking in. “Baby, I’m not going anywhere,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “But you can’t just… handle this alone. Not for me.”

She took a shaky breath, the truth finally spilling out in the soft, halting words she’d kept buried. “That’s why I got the IUD. A few months after we got married… after I found out I was pregnant. You were away in London for that shoot, and I was alone. And I—” She paused, choking back a sob as she struggled to get the words out. “I panicked. I was terrified of what it would mean for us, for you, for everything. So, I… I took care of it. I didn’t want to burden you with it, and I thought I was doing the right thing.”

Dieter’s face went pale, his expression shifting from shock to something more profound—hurt, confusion, and an aching sadness that he didn’t quite know how to process. His hold on her hands went slack. He hadn’t been there. He hadn’t known. While he was away, filming scenes and living the life he thought he wanted, she had been here, facing a reality that should have been theirs to share.

“You—” Dieter started, standing up, trying to say something but the words caught in his throat. “You did that… without telling me?”

She nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I didn’t know how to tell you, Dee. You were gone, and I was scared. I didn’t want you to feel trapped or forced into something you never wanted. I thought it was better that way.”

Dieter’s mind raced as he tried to grasp what she was saying. He ran a hand down his face, cupping his mouth as he took in a long drag of air. The anger he’d felt earlier had melted into something more painful, something that cut deeper than he expected. He’d never wanted this, but now, faced with the reality that they’d lost something before it had even begun, Dieter felt a profound sense of grief for what could have been—and for what he still had a chance to fight for.

He swallowed hard, his voice breaking as he spoke. “I wish you’d told me. I wish you hadn’t gone through all that alone. I know I’m not perfect, and I know I’ve said a lot of shit about not wanting kids, but… I want you. And if you want this—if you want us to have this—then I want it, too. But you have to be sure. This isn’t just about me. It’s us, and we can’t keep pretending it’s not.”

She looked at him, her eyes searching his face for any sign of hesitation, but all she saw was the man who had always been there, even when they hadn’t known what the hell they were doing. Dieter knelt before her, his hands steady on her knees, offering her the quiet reassurance she’d been afraid to ask for. They were scared, both of them, but for the first time, it felt like they were scared together.

A heavy silence stretched between them, thick with the weight of everything unsaid. She stared down at her trembling hands, struggling to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. Finally, she broke the quiet, her voice small and cracking under the strain. “I understand if you want a divorce, Dieter.” Tears began to roll down her cheeks again, and she looked up at him, and he could feel and see the pain and resignation in them. “I’d give it to you, you know. If that’s what it takes for you to live your truth. If it means you get to live the life you always wanted—not something complicated by a kid and a wife.”

Dieter’s breath caught in his throat, and he shook his head, trying to grasp the gravity of what she was saying. “What? No… what are you talking about? Divorce? That’s not—”

“I don’t want to trap you, Dee,” she interrupted, her voice quivering. “I never wanted you to feel stuck. At least if we divorce, I get to keep my baby, and you get to live your life. We both get what we want.” She said it with a heartbreaking kind of finality, her gaze dropping as though she couldn’t bear to look at him.

Hearing her say “her baby” like that shattered something inside Dieter. He could feel his chest tighten as his emotions boiled over, hot tears streaming down his face. “You think that’s what I want?” he whispered, his voice breaking as he tried to keep it down. They were still in his parents’ house, and he didn’t want anyone hearing this, but he couldn’t keep the hurt out of his words. “You think I want to live some half-assed life without you? Without… our baby?”

She flinched at his words, torn between the guilt and the love she still felt for him. “Dieter, you’ve always said—”

“I know what I’ve said!” Dieter snapped, his voice rising before he caught himself. He pressed a fist to his mouth, trying to stifle the sobs that threatened to break free. “God, I’ve been so fucked up. So caught up in what I thought I wanted, what I told everyone I didn’t want. I never… I never told you how much I love you. How much I need you. And now you’re willing to sacrifice everything because of me? Because I’m too much of a mess to communicate? That’s not fair, baby. That’s on me.”

She looked away, blinking back tears as she tried to keep her voice steady. “It’s not about blame, Dieter. I can’t live with the guilt of not giving you the chance to have the life you deserve. I’d rather… I’d rather set you free than see you stuck in something you don’t want. I love you too much for that.”

Dieter shook his head, his shoulders slumping as the enormity of her words hit him. He didn’t know how to make her understand. “But I don’t want to be free,” he said, almost pleading. “I don’t want any of this without you. I’ve spent my whole life running from everything—commitment, responsibility, you name it. But not you. Not us. You… you made me realize I could be more than that.”

She listened, her heart breaking with every word. “I don’t want to be unfair, Dee. I’ve spent so long dreaming about this—about being a mom. And I know kids were never part of your dream, and I just… I don’t want to take that from you.”

Dieter wiped his eyes, his voice hoarse and desperate. “You’re not taking anything from me. Please, don’t do this. Don’t make decisions for me. You’ve always been my partner, my equal… baby, you make me want to be a better person… whatever the hell that looks like…”

She let out a shaky laugh through her tears, reaching up to cup his face. “I just… I didn’t want to pop our bubble. It’s been so perfect, even with all the chaos. And the thought of losing that, of losing you in such a way… it scares me more than anything.”

Dieter’s sobs turned to quiet laughter, a broken sound that mirrored the bittersweetness of the moment. “You think I’m not scared? I’ve been scared of fucking everything my whole life, and you were the one person who made me think I didn’t have to be. You’re my team, baby. We’re a damn good one. And I know that if we have this kid… our kid… we’d be amazing parents, too.”

She looked at him, her tears finally slowing, replaced by a fragile smile that made Dieter’s heartache. “I just don’t want to be unfair,” she whispered, her voice soft but sincere.

“You’re not being unfair,” Dieter said, his tone tender but firm. “Please, just… reconsider. Our relationship, our marriage… our baby. Let’s figure it out together. No more guessing what the other person wants.”

She nodded, her eyes locking with his, and for the first time since the night had started, she felt a glimmer of hope. They were both terrified, still reeling from everything that had come to light, but at least now, they were facing it together, no more secrets, no more hiding. Just the two of them and the uncertain but hopeful future with a baby they were ready to build.

–

The next morning was Christmas, and despite the whirlwind of emotions that had unfolded the night before, Dieter and his wife had decided to keep their news to themselves for now. It was too early—too new, too precious, and far too complicated to try to explain just yet. They put on their best smiles, exchanged gifts with his family, and managed to get through the morning without giving anything away.

As soon as they left his parents’ house, they headed straight to her OB-GYN’s office. Dieter squeezed her hand in the waiting room, both of them tense but trying to stay calm. When the doctor finally confirmed the news—they were eight weeks along—it felt both real and surreal at the same time. They were both relieved and overwhelmed, knowing it was still too early to tell anyone, too early for announcements, but their hearts were already full of the possibility.

Back at their house, Dieter immediately started making little changes, moving things around and insisting on turning one of the guest rooms into a nursery. “This room gets the best light,” he said, gesturing animatedly as they stood in the empty space, still filled with random furniture and boxes they hadn’t sorted through. “We can do a crib over here, maybe a rocking chair by the window… Oh, and I saw this thing on Pinterest—don’t laugh—about these little wall decals, like stars and moons. We could do a whole sky theme.”

She watched him, leaning against the doorframe, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “I didn’t even know you had a Pinterest account.”

Dieter turned, shrugging sheepishly. “What? I like my aesthetics.”

She laughed, her heart swelling at the sight of him so invested. It was like watching a kid with a new project, and she couldn’t help but feel a little lighter. “You’re really into this, huh?”

He looked at her, eyes sparkling with an excitement that was infectious. “Yeah, I am. What’s so funny?”

She shook her head, still smiling. “Nothing, it’s just… I never thought I’d see the day when Dieter Bravo is this excited about becoming a dad.”

Dieter’s expression softened, and he crossed the room, wrapping his arms around her. “Well, get used to it, baby. I’m all in.”

As the days passed, they began to settle into this new phase of their life together, their once spontaneous and free-spirited existence slowly evolving without them even realizing it. They had always been people of the moment, living day to day with little thought of what came next. Before, their conversations rarely drifted beyond the present—they were about last-minute weekend trips, late-night takeout, or whatever wild idea Dieter would come up with next. The future was never really on the table, not in a serious way. They thrived on spontaneity, on the freedom of not being tied down by plans or expectations.

But now, there was a subtle but undeniable shift in the air between them. It wasn’t something they talked about directly, but rather something that quietly settled in, like a warm, comforting blanket. Their conversations began to naturally drift into what was coming, not just what was happening now. They found themselves talking about baby names over breakfast, Dieter suggesting offbeat, quirky names that made her laugh while she countered with more classic choices that she’d always dreamed of, being the writer that she is and her love for literature.

Dieter would randomly pull out his phone to show her baby gear he’d found online, everything from the practical to the absurdly adorable. “Look at this stroller, baby. It’s got all-terrain wheels! Imagine us taking the kid hiking. Okay, maybe not hiking, but, you know… walking down a slightly uneven sidewalk.”

She’d laugh, watching him with a kind of fondness that was new, soft, and overwhelming. She’d catch him in the nursery sometimes, hunched over with a tape measure, making notes and sketches of where things should go. He was planning—actually planning—and it warmed her in a way she couldn’t quite describe.

One afternoon, she found him kneeling on the floor, surrounded by paint samples and wallpaper swatches, muttering to himself about whether to go with the pale blue or the pastel purple. “I don’t know, do you think clouds are too cliché? What if we did something more abstract? Like a sky, but, like, artsy. You know, like, dreamland stuff.”

She leaned against the doorframe, a smile playing at her lips. “Dieter Bravo, debating interior design for a nursery. Who would’ve thought?”

He looked up, his grin boyish and bright. “I know, right? Next, I’ll be on HGTV. ‘Bravo’s Baby Rooms.’ It’ll be a hit.”

She rolled her eyes, but her heart swelled with something deeper. They were still them, still the same pair who’d decided to get married on a whim in Vegas, who’d spent years living in the moment and rarely looking ahead. But now, the future wasn’t something scary or overwhelming. It was something they were building together, brick by brick, conversation by conversation.

Sometimes, in the quiet moments, she would find herself lying awake at night, her hand resting on the small swell of her belly, feeling the gentle flutters of life within her. Dieter would be next to her, snoring softly, and she’d just listen, soaking in the warmth of their home. She realized then how much had changed between them—how they’d gone from two people floating through life, clinging to the present, to a couple that was starting to dream together.

It wasn’t just about the baby, though that was the catalyst. It was the way their whole world had shifted, gently guiding them toward a future that felt bright and full of possibility.

Their once spontaneous, fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants relationship was evolving into something richer, something that made space for plans and hopes. She’d catch Dieter browsing parenting books or obsessively researching the best baby monitors, and each time, she couldn’t help but feel a surge of love she hadn’t quite known before.

It wasn’t forced or awkward; it was the most natural thing in the world, like breathing. They were still the same Dieter and his wife, the quirky mystery novel writer—impulsive, playful, unorthodox in every way—but now, their lives together carried an undercurrent of something… warmer, softer, and a little more planned than usual.

One evening, she was curled up on the couch, cozy under a thick, soft blanket, her Kindle in one hand and the other resting gently on the small but noticeable bump of her belly. She’d grown accustomed to the comforting weight of her growing child. Dieter strolled in from the kitchen, carrying a bowl of popcorn, and dropped onto the couch beside her with a contented sigh.

“You look way too comfortable,” she teased, nudging him playfully with her foot, a smile tugging at her lips as she watched him sink into the cushions like he belonged there.

“I am,” Dieter said, settling in beside her and resting his head against her shoulder. He let out a contented sigh, his eyes drifting down to her bump, and his hand found hers, resting warmly over the swell of her belly. “I love this. I love everything about this.”

She chuckled, her fingers absentmindedly tracing soft circles on her belly, feeling the little flutters of movement beneath her skin. “You always loved kids, Dee. I know that. I just… I never thought I’d live to see the day when you’d actually be a dad.”

Dieter’s smile softened, and tears welled in his eyes as he scooted closer, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his face into her chest. She could feel the quiet, vulnerable sobs shaking his shoulders, and it melted her heart. “You’re making my deepest, darkest dreams come true, baby,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by her warmth, words spilling out with raw sincerity.

She laughed, tilting her head back as she ruffled his hair affectionately. “I thought your deepest, darkest dreams that I made come true involved a strap-on, Bravo.”

Dieter snorted, lifting his head just enough to flash her a cheeky grin. Without missing a beat, he buried his face into her chest, playfully motorboating her. She squealed, swatting at his head as they both dissolved into laughter, tangled together on the couch.

“God, you’re such a perv,” she giggled, half-heartedly pushing him away even though she was laughing too hard to mean it.

He finally pulled back, grinning unapologetically as he reached up and cupped one of her breasts, squeezing playfully. “Honk honk,” he said, eyes twinkling with mischief.

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head but unable to keep a straight face. “Dieter, you’re ridiculous.”

“I know,” he said, still chuckling as he leaned in to kiss her softly.

“I love you, mama.” He whispered against her mouth.

–

As days turned into weeks, they found themselves back at the doctor’s office for the 20-week scan. The drive there was tense, filled with nervous silence and half-hearted attempts at small talk that did little to mask their growing anxiety. Dieter’s usually easygoing demeanor was replaced with restless energy, and she could feel it radiating off him as they sat in the waiting room, both of them on edge.

She sat nervously beside him, her leg bouncing up and down as she stared at the outdated magazines scattered on the table in front of them. Dieter glanced over, noticing the jittery movement. He nudged her lightly with his elbow, offering a crooked smile. “Babe, you’re bouncing your leg like you’re tweaking. Seriously, I’ve been around a lot of meth heads, and you’re giving me flashbacks.”

She snorted, covering her mouth as a burst of laughter escaped, her nerves momentarily easing. “I can’t help it, okay? This is… I’m freaking out.”

Dieter reached over, his fingers lacing through hers as he squeezed gently. “I get it, but you gotta chill. You’re acting like you’re on something, and trust me, I know that vibe.” He gave her hand another reassuring squeeze. “You’ve gotta stop reading all those Reddit posts. They’re nothing but horror stories.”

She nodded, though she still looked pale, her eyes flicking around the room as if searching for something to distract herself. “I know, I just… I can’t help it. I’ve read too many stories about 20-week scans going wrong. What if something’s wrong, Dieter? I don’t think I can handle it.”

Dieter leaned in closer, brushing a kiss against her temple. “Hey, nothing’s wrong. Our kid’s strong. Just like you. Baby’s gonna be fine, okay? Let’s just breathe.”

They were finally called into the scan room, and the doctor greeted them with a warm smile, chatting casually as she prepared the machine. “How are we feeling today? Ready to see this little one?” she asked, her voice calm and reassuring as she applied the cool gel to her belly. Dieter stood by her side, holding her hand tightly, both of them staring at the monitor with bated breath.

The doctor moved the wand over her stomach, her brows knitting slightly as she searched the screen, waiting for a heartbeat. At first, there was nothing—just static silence, the absence of that familiar, rhythmic thump that they both so desperately wanted to hear. The doctor adjusted the wand, repositioning and angling it slightly, her expression remaining neutral but focused.

Dieter could feel his wife’s grip tighten, her fingers digging into his, and he squeezed back, his own heart pounding. “Is everything okay?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, laced with fear.

The doctor glanced at them, her smile reassuring but a little strained. “Sometimes the baby’s in a tricky position so it’s hard to get the heartbeat. Let’s just give it a moment.” She moved the wand again, her eyes flicking between the screen and her belly as she pressed a bit harder, trying to get a better view.

But the silence lingered, and the tension in the room grew thicker. Dieter could feel his pulse racing, his mind going a mile a minute. He tried to keep calm, tried to joke, but his voice came out strained.

“Kid’s already messing with us, huh? Definitely takes after me.”

It falls flat, and he frowns deeper.

The doctor’s brows furrowed as she moved the wand slowly, deliberately, the silence stretching on until it was almost unbearable. “Come on, little one,” she murmured under her breath, adjusting the machine again.

She glanced at Dieter and his wife, reading the fear on their faces. “I know it’s nerve-wracking, but try not to panic. This happens sometimes.” The words were meant to soothe, but each passing second felt like an eternity, and Dieter felt like the walls were closing in.

Suddenly, the doctor paused, her eyes widening slightly. “Oh—hold on. I think I forgot to turn on the sound.” She reached over and pressed a button on the machine, and instantly, the room filled with the steady, reassuring thump of their baby’s heartbeat, clear and strong.

Dieter and his wife both let out a collective sigh of relief, laughing shakily as the tension broke. “Oh my god,” she breathed, her head falling back against the table as she squeezed Dieter’s hand. “You just shaved ten years off my life.”

The doctor chuckled, her face apologetic. “I’m so sorry about that. It happens more often than you’d think.” She moved the wand slightly, showing them their baby on the screen. “There we go. Heartbeat is strong, and baby looks perfect.”

Dieter let out a shaky laugh, wiping at his eyes as he glanced at his wife. “Kid’s already got us on edge. I guess that’s just payback for all the years I’ve been a handful.”

They all shared a brief, much-needed laugh, the tension slowly melting away. But the doctor’s expression turned a bit more serious as she continued to move the wand, examining the screen with careful precision. She began marking key areas on the screen, capturing images and making notes as she went. “Now, remember, this is your 20-week scan,” she said, her tone gentle but factual. “This is an important one because it’s when we check for congenital anomalies. We’ll be looking closely at your baby’s organs and development to make sure everything is on track.”

Dieter and his wife nodded, their earlier relief tempered by the weight of what the doctor was saying. This wasn’t just about hearing the heartbeat; it was about seeing if their baby was healthy, if everything was developing the way it should. The room fell quiet again, the soft whir of the machine the only sound as the doctor carefully scanned each part of their baby’s tiny body, capturing and saving images to review.

“We’re looking at the brain and skull,” the doctor explained, pointing to the image on the screen as she took a snapshot. “The structures look well-formed, and everything is measuring normally.” She moved the wand again, pausing over the baby’s chest and marking the image. “And here’s the heart. We’re checking for proper function, looking at the chambers and blood flow. So far, everything looks great.”

Dieter squeezed his wife’s hand, the feeling of both awe and anxiety filling the cavity of his chest. Every tiny movement on the screen felt monumental, every word from the doctor a lifeline. The doctor continued, showing them the spine, the kidneys, the limbs—every detail scrutinized with care and captured for documentation.

“And here’s the stomach and the diaphragm. We’re looking for normal positioning and function,” she said, moving methodically, her voice steady and calm. “All good signs here.” She took another image, marking it on the screen with a series of measurements.

Dieter’s wife squeezed his hand, her eyes locked on the screen, watching their baby’s tiny fingers flex and curl. “Is that… is that the baby’s hand?” she asked, her voice soft, filled with wonder.

“Yes, it is,” the doctor smiled, zooming in on the tiny hand and capturing the image. “Five fingers, all accounted for.”

They watched in silence, their emotions swinging from relief to fear and back again with every scan of the baby’s developing organs. The doctor’s voice was steady, reassuring them as she checked for any signs of congenital anomalies. Each confirmation that everything was normal felt like a small victory, a breath they didn’t realize they were holding.

“Everything looks normal and healthy,” the doctor finally said, pulling back and saving the last image. “Your baby is developing beautifully.”

Dieter and his wife both let out breaths they hadn’t realized they were holding, their hands still clasped tightly together. It wasn’t just relief—it was gratitude, to the doctor and the universe, for keeping their little bun healthy.

They thanked the doctor, their voices filled with a concoction of relief, exhaustion, and overwhelming joy. As they left the office, they felt lighter, buoyed by the knowledge that their baby was safe and thriving. There’s only one thing for them to do now: start telling their family and friends.

–

“You okay?” Dieter asked, his voice gentle as they pulled into his parents’ driveway. The house looked warm and welcoming, draped in fairy lights that twinkled against the evening sky, but she couldn’t quite shake the tightness in her chest.

She nodded, but it was automatic, her mind racing with thoughts she hadn’t fully processed, and her tears just started spilling like clockwork. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just… it’s a lot, you know? Your parents are going to be so happy, and I—I don’t have that anymore. I don’t have anyone to tell.” She tried to laugh it off, her voice catching slightly, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “God, listen to me. I’m such a mess. It’s probably just hormones.”

Dieter squeezed her hand, his expression softening. He knew how much she missed her dad, how his absence lingered in moments like these. “It’s not just hormones, baby,” he said gently, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “You’re allowed to feel this. I wish your dad was here, too. I think about it all the time—how proud he’d be, how he’d probably be spoiling you right now.”

She let out a shaky breath, “It’s stupid, but it just hit me today, you know? Like, he was the only family I had, and now… I guess I thought I was past all this. But it’s different now. This is so big, and I feel like I’m missing that piece.”

Dieter pulled her hand up, kissing her knuckles softly. “It’s not stupid. And you’re not without parents completely. My parents love you—hell, they might love you more than they love me. They text you more than they text me, anyway.”

She let out a laugh, and it felt good, a brief moment of lightness breaking through the weight in her chest. “They do, don’t they? They’re always sending me recipes, cute cat and dog vides, and asking for book recommendations. Meanwhile, you get the ‘how’s your liver?’ texts.”

Dieter grinned, happy to see her smile even through tears. “Exactly. Trust me, they’re going to be over the moon about this. You’re their family, too. And yeah, it’s big—it’s bigger than anything we’ve done—but you don’t have to carry that alone. My parents, they’re gonna be here, every annoying, loving step of the way.”

She squeezed his hand, feeling a little more grounded. “Thanks, babe. I needed that.”

Dieter nodded, his own emotions bubbling under the surface. He knew how hard this was for her, and he wanted to make sure she never felt like she was alone in this. “Hey, we’re in this together. And we’re about to make their year, so let’s go in there and give them something to celebrate.”

They stepped out of the car, hand in hand, and walked up to the front door. She adjusted her coat, feeling the weight of the moment settle in her chest, but Dieter squeezed her hand reassuringly. They’d been parked for a while, gathering themselves, and now it was time. Dieter knocked, and within seconds, the door swung open.

Dieter’s mother stood there, her expression a mix of concern and relief. “Oh, there you are! We were starting to get worried—you’ve been sitting out there for ages. I thought maybe something was wrong.”

“Everything’s fine,” Dieter assured her, giving her a quick hug. “We were just… talking.”

His mom nodded, though she kept glancing between them, still a little uncertain. “It’s so good to see you two! Come in, come in.”

Dieter’s father was in the living room, setting out coffee and cookies on the table. He looked up, grinning in his usual dry way. “Hey, you two. What’s this? I thought you’d be busy writing another bestseller or maybe dragging Dieter around to get some culture.”

Dieter laughed, shaking his head. “Well, it’s not that, but it’s something just as good.”

His wife exchanged a quick look with him, her nerves sparking up again. Dieter, sensing her hesitation, gave her an encouraging smile and gently reached up to help her with her coat. As he slipped it off her shoulders, he draped it neatly over the back of the couch, revealing the gentle curve of her growing bump.

His parents’ eyes widened, and for a second, they both just stared, taking it in. Dieter’s mom’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes brimming with tears. “Oh my gosh… are you…?”

Dieter’s wife nodded, her voice trembling with a mix of nerves and joy. “We’re having a baby. I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, there was only stunned silence, and then his mom let out a joyous cry, rushing forward to hug her. “Oh, sweetheart! This is the most wonderful news! Look at you—how far along are you? I can’t believe it!”

Dieter’s dad, who usually kept his emotions under wraps, pulled Dieter into a hug, his voice thick with pride. “Son, this is incredible. I can’t tell you how happy I am for you. I’m not sure if you remember this, but there was a time when I wasn’t sure you’d ever get your life together, let alone settle down.”

Dieter blinked, caught off guard by his dad’s words. “Thanks, Dad. That means a lot.” He hesitated, swallowing hard before speaking again. “I know I’ve been a mess, but… I’m really excited about this. I want to do it right.”

His father clapped him on the shoulder, his expression warm. “You’ve already done right by me. You’ve grown up, Dieter, more than I ever thought possible. And now you’re going to be a dad. I couldn’t be prouder.”

They all settled into the living room, Dieter’s mom already buzzing with plans. “Okay, so tell me everything! When’s the due date? How are you feeling? Have you thought about names yet? We have to start planning—oh, and the nursery! We’ll need to paint, get a crib—”

Dieter held up his hands, laughing. “Mom, slow down. You’re going to choke yourself on your own saliva with how fast you’re going. One thing at a time.”

She laughed, waving him off but nodding. “Okay, okay. But this is just… it’s all so exciting. I’ve been waiting for this day for so long, and now it’s finally happening.”

Dieter’s wife smiled, feeling the warmth of Dieter’s mom’s excitement wash over her. “Thank you. Really, I’m so glad we get to share this with you. It’s been a lot to take in, but having you both here means the world.”

Dieter’s mom squeezed her hand, her eyes filled with emotion. “You’re not without parents completely, you know that, right? You’ve got us now. We’re going to be right here with you, every crazy, wonderful moment.”

She nodded, fighting back tears. “I’m so grateful for that. You have no idea.”

Dieter’s dad leaned in, his voice quieter but no less heartfelt. “And I mean it, Dieter. I see the way you are with her, how much you’ve grown. You’ve got this, both of you. And I know you’re going to be amazing parents.”

As they continued to talk, laugh, and make plans, one thing stood out among them– they knew there was so much ahead—so many unknowns, so many firsts—but for now, it was enough to just be together and celebrate this beautiful news.

–

After spending a few hours basking in the joy and warmth of Dieter’s parents, they knew the next step was sharing the news with the rest of the world. It felt like another hurdle, one they were both eager and anxious to jump. They drove back home, feeling the weight of their secret beginning to lift.

Once they were settled on their couch, they knew it was time to tell Dieter’s manager. Dieter pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts, glancing over at his wife. “Ready?”

She nodded, though a nervous flutter still twisted in her stomach. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

Dieter hit the call button, putting it on speaker. His manager picked up on the second ring, his voice chipper and businesslike. “Dieter, my man! What’s up? You ready to talk about the next big project? We’ve got offers coming in like crazy.”

Dieter laughed, exchanging a look with his wife. “Hey, uh, about that… we’ve got something to tell you. It’s kind of a big deal.”

There was a brief pause on the other end, and then his manager’s voice dropped, curious and cautious. “Oh God, are you in trouble again? Do I need to get a lawyer on the line?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Dieter said quickly, his grin wide. “Actually, it’s the opposite of trouble.”

His wife jumped in, smiling as she spoke. “We’re having a baby.”

The line went quiet for a beat, and then his manager erupted in a cheer. “What? Oh my God! Are you serious? This is amazing! Bravo’s having a baby! You two, this is incredible.”

They laughed, feeling the enthusiasm radiating through the phone. “Yeah, we’re serious,” Dieter said. “We’re excited, and we wanted to let you know before it goes public.”

His manager was still buzzing, the excitement palpable. “You’re going to break the internet with this. But listen, you’ve got to be prepared. This is going to be huge news—your fans, the media, everyone’s going to go nuts. Some good, some bad, you know how it is. But honestly, this is the best news I’ve heard all year.”

They chatted for a few more minutes, exchanging congratulations and discussing the logistics of managing the media frenzy that would inevitably follow. Once they hung up, Dieter turned to her, his eyes bright. “You ready to tell the world?”

She nodded, and together, they crafted a simple but heartfelt post for social media. They chose a candid photo taken that morning, with Dieter’s hand resting protectively over her small bump, both of them smiling with unfiltered joy. The caption read: Our greatest adventure yet. Baby Bravo coming soon.

They hit ‘share,’ and within moments, the post began to explode. Likes, comments, and shares flooded in at a speed that was almost overwhelming. Messages of congratulations poured in from friends, fans, and fellow celebrities. The overwhelming support was heartwarming, and they found themselves caught up in the happiness of it all.

But as the notifications kept coming, there were, of course, some that stung. Dieter scrolled through, his brow furrowing at the inevitable wave of negativity from the corners of his fanbase that couldn’t handle change.

“She’s probably just using him for fame. Classic.”

“Guess Dieter’s fun days are officially over.”

“He doesn’t deserve this. What about all the times he said he didn’t want kids?”

Dieter sighed, shaking his head as he turned off the screen. “I knew there’d be some backlash, but damn. People can be ruthless.”

She took a deep breath, trying to keep her own emotions in check. “I mean, I expected some of it, but it still hurts. I just thought… I don’t know, that people would be happy for us.”

Dieter pulled her into his side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Hey, don’t let them get to you. They don’t know us. They don’t know what we’ve been through to get here. This is our moment, not theirs.”

She nodded, leaning into his comfort. “I know, it’s just… I guess I didn’t expect people to be so… mean. I thought this would be different.”

Dieter kissed her temple, his touch gentle. “Some people will never be happy, babe. But look at all the love we’ve got here.” He pulled up the comments from their closest friends, the ones who knew them beyond the headlines. Messages of support, love, and shared joy filled the screen, reminding them of the people who truly mattered.

“Look at this one,” Dieter said, reading aloud. “‘I always knew you’d be the best parents. Baby Bravo is lucky to have you both.’” He smiled, scrolling down. “And this one—‘I’m so proud of you guys. Can’t wait to meet the little one.’”

She smiled, letting the warmth of those messages push away the sting of the negativity. “I guess we have to focus on that, huh?”

“Exactly,” Dieter said, squeezing her close. “This is our family. Our life. And no one gets to take that away from us.”

They spent the rest of the evening curled up together, ignoring the noise of the outside world and focusing on the love that poured in from those who truly understood. Their phones continued to buzz, and the news spread quickly, but for now, it was just the two of them, dreaming about their future with the baby they were already so deeply in love with.

A few weeks had passed since their announcement, and life had begun to settle into a new kind of normal.

They were still receiving messages of congratulations, along with the occasional snarky comment, but the love outweighed the negativity by miles.

Dieter and his wife had embraced this next phase with open hearts, pouring over baby books, setting up the nursery, and spending quiet moments together, dreaming about the future.

One night, as they sat in the nursery—still half-finished, with paint samples and swatches scattered everywhere—Dieter was busy assembling a crib, grumbling softly as he fumbled with the instructions. His wife sat cross-legged on the floor, watching him with a soft smile, one hand resting on her belly.

“Are you sure you don’t want to wait for your dad to help with that?” she teased, noting his intense focus and the stray bolts lying around.

Dieter looked up, smirking. “Nah, I’ve got it. Besides, I’ve got to prove I can put something together that’s not going to collapse on us. I mean, it’s literally a crib. If I can do this, I can do anything.”

She laughed, watching as he finally managed to fit the pieces together, looking far too proud of himself. He stood back, admiring his handiwork before turning to her, his smile broad and genuine. “See? Told you I’d figure it out.”

She patted the spot beside her on the floor, and he sat down, pulling her into his side. They sat there quietly for a moment, both gazing at the crib—the first tangible piece of their new life together.

“Can you believe this is happening?” she murmured, her voice soft with wonder. “Sometimes it still feels like a dream.”

Dieter nodded, his hand drifting to rest over her bump. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been in a lot of weird dreams, but this… this is the best one. And it’s real.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat against her cheek. “We’re going to be okay, aren’t we?”

He turned to kiss her forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. “We already are, baby. And it’s only going to get better.”

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in the promise of what was to come—messy, beautiful, and entirely theirs.

#pedro pascal characters #dieter bravo #dieter fic #daddy dieter #angst #soft dieter #friends to lovers #coworkers to lovers #life well loved fic #oneshot

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mysterious-musings-chaos-corner · 16 days ago

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Now that you have reposted these @beskaranddust... I feel they need to be included in the chaos corner. I managed to find my old reblogs with my comments! More incoming.😂💜

This had me in a chokehold. I am pleasantly surprised how much I actually enjoyed a “friends” fic for our dear trash panda. The banter was top notch and gave me several good chuckles. This line:

Dieter stared at her, deadpan, raising an eyebrow. “Uh... yes, I can.”

I don’t know why… but that response… I can hear him saying it and see his facial expression and it tickles me because it’s so perfectly Dieter.

You know I love a good Dieter getting his shit together fic, though he didn’t actually do that (yet), I feel like this new person in his life will set him on that path. I love that he found someone that really sees him and connects with him on such a personal and emotional level. That’s really all he was missing.

Wonderful fic, friend! Loved it! 👏👏👏💜

Friends with Benefits | Dieter Bravo

Dieter Bravo x Female Best Friend

Originally posted on May 28, 2023 as @drewharrisonwriter

Word Count: 781 words

Summary: Dieter finally fesses up to his long-time best friend about his feelings.

Warnings: Smoking pot, talk of cancer, thoughts of dying. Nothing heavier than those, though, carry on.

2025 A/N: This was my first fic in over a decade and my first fic in the PPCU fandom. Originally written for Pedro Pascal, but changed to Dieter Bravo because IDK... I love Dieter. LOL

He turned the keys that unlocked the door of his cozy apartment in New York.

Having flown 18 hours from filming a movie overseas, Dieter Bravo was happy to be home and looked forward to a quick shower, pizza, beer, and maybe passing out on the couch watching a random movie on Netflix after he smoked pot.

As he entered the hall leading to the rest of his apartment, his eyes widened in surprise and he dropped his bags. He muttered, “What the fuck?” under his breath.

His apartment was sparkling clean.

He was high when he left, but not high enough to forget whether he cleaned—and he most certainly hadn’t.

He closed the door behind him.

Walking slowly through his living area, he found a note on the coffee table.

On it was scribbled: “Neighbors thought there was a dead animal in here. You had four dead hamsters!!! And other non-pets. Cleaned and disinfected. Enjoy your fresh sheets. M.”

He snorted and burst out laughing as he slumped on the couch, eyes fixed on the paper.

He didn’t have a hamster, nor was there any rotting smell. This was just her way of helping him out when she had the time. ‘She’s probably stressed out,’ he thought, knowing that cleaning relaxed her.

He pulled out his phone and dialed her number.

“I’m busy,” she said, game sounds in the background.

Half smirking, he replied, “No you’re not. Come over.”

“Can’t, dumbass. I’m playing.”

Dieter chuckled.

“Should I come over then?”

After a pause, her voice sounded clearer. “It’s Saturday, don’t you have a life?”

“I just got back, baby. I missed you.”

“Whore.”

He leaned back, trying to play it cool. “Please?”

She sighed, pausing her game. “Fine. Be there in 20.”

“See you.”

He ordered food and drinks, then hopped in the shower, thinking about the woman he’d loved for years.

They’d met nearly a decade ago on the set of one of her music videos. She was already an established pop sensation at 20; he was a struggling actor at 31. Despite their differences, they clicked instantly.

They’d been best friends ever since—just… different lately.

It all started at an awards after-party three years ago. One thing led to another, and they ended up in his apartment. The next morning, they vowed never to do it again—but did, the very next night. And many nights after that.

They had an “understanding.” No commitments beyond friendship.

But when she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer the year before, he came to an undeniable realization that what he felt for her had shifted far beyond the safe borders of best-friend affection, a pull that went far beyond the lines of friendship and left him restless, unable to brush it aside.

The sound of the front door opening broke his thoughts. “Welcome hoooome!” she sang.

The moment she stepped through the door, a smile broke across his face. She looked better—brighter—than when he’d last seen her, which had been far too long ago, nearly half a year, if he remembers correctly.

“Hey you,” he whispered, hugging her tightly, burying his nose into her hair and breathing her in like he could store the scent for later, taking in every bit of her he’d missed so much. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too. Now what’s the plan, dumbass?”

“Roll a blunt, watch a movie, eat a ton, maybe fuck later?”

She snorted. “Right up my alley.”

They bantered about the cleaning, her upcoming doctor’s appointment, and whether she could smoke pot.

On the couch, he asked quietly, “Are you scared?”

“A little,” she admitted. “I don’t want to need chemo again. Pills are fine.”

He found himself studying her in a haze of thought, barely noticing the knock at the door until it pulled him back. When he returned with the pizza and drinks, he settled beside her, Moonstruck flickering on the screen while his focus stayed on her far more than on the movie.

Eventually, he said, “I love you.”

“Of course you do.”

“No. I love you.”

She froze mid-chew. “What’s happening?”

“It’s been years, M. I want us to be together. Exclusively.”

She pointed out the demands of their careers and the miles that would keep them apart, but he told her he was done hiding how he felt and couldn’t go on acting like it was only friendship.

“I need time to think,” she said softly. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“That’s fair. I just needed to tell you.”

They hugged. “Let’s just enjoy tonight,” she said.

“Okay,” he murmured, kissing her forehead.

“Now where’s that blunt?” she asked, making him laugh.

#pedro pascal characters #dieter bravo #dieter fic #friends with benefits #friends with benefits fic #oneshot

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mysterious-musings-chaos-corner · 16 days ago

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Some of these are Dieter coded...🦝

holidays with boyfriend

“When I’m with you there’s no place i rather be.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal pictures #pedro your dieter is showing #dieter bravo coded

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mysterious-musings-chaos-corner · 16 days ago

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You’re So Vain Masterlist

Dieter Bravo x female Reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Oscar winning star Dieter Bravo’s reputation is suffering after the debacle of “Cliff Beasts 6″ and “Beasts of the Bubble”, so his management team has signed him on to a publicity stunt to find his soulmate and show the world a softer side of the erratic and unpredictable star. The plan quickly go awry, though, when Dieter’s soulmate wants nothing to do with him.

Explicit chapters marked with **

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7**

Chapter 8

Chapter 9**

Chapter 10**

Chapter 11**

Chapter 12** (marked explicit for drug use)

Chapter 13**

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Epilogue**

My Masterlist!

#pedro pascal characters #dieter bravo #multi chapter #tbr #dieter fic #complete #youre so vain fic

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mysterious-musings-chaos-corner · 16 days ago

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REMINDER: If you have an ENEMIES TO LOVERS Dieter fic rec (or would like to rec your own) send it in! We want all the trash panda content!

The Dieter Bravo SLOW BURN fic compilation is here!

As a reminder, these are multi-chapter fics with yearning, connection, and a slow-building relationship.

There are so many wonderful fics on this list and I’m pretty sure the majority (if not all) are included in my personal favorites compilation. Give them a read and don’t forget to show our favorite authors some love! If you’ve already read these, then don’t hesitate to stop back by and remind them of how amazing they are.

As voted by the trashy readers, next month’s compilation will be ENEMIES TO LOVERS.

This collection will include multi-chapter fics and oneshots. Please send in your recommendations and feel free to self rec (I did 👀🤭). I’ll be accepting submissions until the end of August.

Stay trashy, my friends.

💜Mysty

A very special thank you to the authors included on this list:

@write-and-buried @schnarfer @auteurdelabre @prolix-yuy @farawayfromwanting @wildemaven @whatsnewalycat @probablyreadinsmut @fuckyeahdindjarin @chronically-ghosted @whocaresstillthelouvre

#dieter bravo #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #fic recs #send them in

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mysterious-musings-chaos-corner · 16 days ago

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@whocaresstillthelouvre excuse me?!?!? EXCUSE ME! I wasn’t expecting all the feelings when I started this! I felt Lucien’s longing in my soul! I mean, I get it. Dieter is…Dieter. Who wouldn’t yearn for that man? And the way Lucien just trusted him and went with it? It warms my heart.

That scene at the window with the garden, had me like 🥹. That was just soo…sooo…😮‍💨. Sweet? Romantic? Hot? I don’t know? All the things!

Then that bit of angst. The longing was still there, which made it hurt so good. But you wrapped it up nicely with that ending. Dieter didn’t hesitate when he saw him again. Then the flowers next to the bed and how Lucien kept staring at them. And then the book! Dieter never let him go either. Ugh, ok. I’ll stop. Just know, I loved it. Excellent work, friend! 💜

Gethsemane

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x Lucien De Leon Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: Two struggling actors meet at an audition, and something blooms between them. Warnings: unsure feelings, dashes of internalized homophobia, smut, m/m, handjob, anal fingering, protected anal sex, dick sucking, cum eating, chain kissing, ewan mcgregor worship Words: 8,000

A/N: First off, happy EARLY birthday (ON THE 8TH!!!!) to my dearest @for-a-longlongtime who has been such a lovely friend through EVERYTHING. I wrote this with her help at the beginning and then finished it WITHOUT HER for the goal of getting it out for her birthday. I'm happy for my first m/m to be written as a gift to her. Second, this was written for two very lovely people's challenges. @perotovar's Worship Challenge where I received "Gethsemane" by Sleep Token (obvs) and @burntheedges' Summer Tunes Writing Challenge where I received "Howling at Nothing" by Nathaniel Rateliff & The Night Sweats. Really, me bouncing ideas off of @perotovar is how I got to a Lucien and Dieter story and I'm really happy with it. The biggest thank you to @qveerthe0ry for reading this over, their support and read through helped calm a bit of my "am I doing this right?" anxiety as this is my first time writing m/m.

Masterlist

—-

It begins at an audition.

Lucien takes the same approach he always takes at these things. He observes. Eight men sit in a random waiting room atop blow-molded chairs, the loud air conditioner whirring fake, refrigerated air across the tiny space. Some tap their foot against the linoleum. Some focus on their lines. Some stare straight forward at the off-white wall. All of them carry an air of nervousness, except the guy next to him. He sits there, in a skrunkly gray shirt, a rip in the collar of the neck, a gold earring sparkling in his ear. He sends Lucien a lopsided grin, his eyes crinkling at the sides, before he winks.

“Hi,” he says, reaching out a ring-covered hand. “Dieter Bravo.”

Lucien takes his hand and shakes it, feeling an unexpected warmth amongst the cold metal across Dieter’s fingers. "Lucien De Leon."

“Damn, that’s a name,” Dieter observes.

“I could say the same about yours, Bravo.”

Dieter laughs loudly, his head tipping back. Random man #3, who sits across from them, shoots them an annoyed look.

Dieter catches the look and leans closer, utilizing his stage whisper, that is even more conspicuous than his regular speaking voice. “Tough crowd.”

The closeness sends an unexpected flutter through Lucien’s chest. He can smell the heady scent of Dieter, something botanical and citrus. Earthy and fresh.

Dieter pulls away with a smile that disarms Lucien. So genuine and sweet, it makes him shift in his seat.

The door to the audition room opens, and a woman with a clipboard peeks out. “Leon Redfield?”

Random man #3 stands, straightens his button-down, and disappears behind the door.

"Are you reading for supporting lead too?” Lucien asks, trying to focus on anything besides how Dieter’s knee occasionally brushes against his whenever he moves.

“You mean the queer best friend with a heart of gold who dies tragically in act three to motivate the protagonist? Of course!”

Lucien smiles. “That’s the one.”

Dieter pulls out a crumpled script page from his pocket. “I bet we’re reading the same sides. Want to run lines?”

Before Lucien can answer, the door opens again. Clipboard woman scans the room.

“Lucien De Leon?”

His stomach tightens, and the kaleidoscope of butterflies that had already appeared from Dieter burst through his whole body. “That’s me.”

As he stands, Dieter reaches out, touching his wrist softly. “Break a leg in there, De Leon.”

“Thanks,” Lucien says. “Good luck.”

Dieter only responds with another wink that follows Lucien into the audition room, a warmth spreading in his heart and mind as he faces the row of bored-looking producers.

Ten minutes later, Lucien exits through a different door, stepping directly into the blinding Los Angeles sun. He squints against the glare, grabbing his wayfarers from his pocket and sliding them on. He should leave—the audition had been a disaster. He’d stumbled over his lines, thrown off by the director’s impatient sighs, distracted by remembering expressive brown eyes and a crooked smile.

He glances down at his watch. He really should head to the bus stop or else he’s going to miss it, but he stays still. He leans against the stucco wall of the building, right next to the exit door. He tells himself he’s just taking a moment to decompress after the audition.

Minutes tick. He’s definitely missed his bus.

Random men filter out, some with smiles, others with the hollow eyes of rejection that Lucien knows too well. He pretends to be absorbed in his phone, but his eyes keep drifting over to the door when the telltale squeak of the hinges sounds.

And then… it opens and Dieter steps out. He shines brighter than the sun.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he muses, a wide smile on his face. He pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his oversized cardigan, offering the crumpled pack to Lucien. Lucien takes a cigarette; he only really smokes when he’s drunk, but he figures a cigarette break takes about five minutes. Five more minutes in Dieter’s glowing aura.

Dieter reaches into his pocket, fishing out a tie-dyed Bic lighter. The paper sticks slightly to Lucien’s dry lips when he places the cigarette between his lips. Dieter steps closer, one hand cupping around the flame as he flicks the lighter to life. A small flame erupts, shimmering and glowing orange as Dieter brings it to Lucien’s cigarette. Dieter’s eyes drift towards Lucien’s as he lights his cigarette before he pulls away, lighting his own as well.

Lucien reminds himself to breathe, to inhale the smoke, to let the nicotine try to cool his overheated body, to calm his frazzled nerves, all from this man he hardly knows. He settles back against the rough stucco, his shoulders now almost touching Dieter’s. Their shared smoke curls and fuses into the evening air.

"So,” Dieter says, exhaling a plume of smoke, “how’d you make your way to this glorious cattle call?”

Lucien taps a collection of ashes onto the sidewalk. “Bus. Which I’ve definitely missed by now.”

Dieter nods. “I’ve got my car. Could give you a ride home if you want.” He pauses, his lips quirking into a mischievous grin. “Or, we could also go get a drink.”

“A drink?” Lucien repeats. He should say no. He has an early shift tomorrow at the cafe, a script to memorize for yet another audition, and little money in his bank account. “That sounds good. There’s a really good bar right by my place… cheap too.”

“Perfect,” Dieter’s face lights up before he takes a final drag of his cigarette. “Follow me.”

Lucien’s always had a sense of adventure—maybe not following a stranger into his beat-up Chevrolet Celebrity—but something about Dieter makes him feel reckless in the best way.

—-

It first happens after a $50 bar tab full of cheap shots and beer that Dieter and Lucien split the cost of. Dieter has hazy eyes, his movements slower from the alcohol and the joint he smoked under the marquee for the hole-in-the-wall bar. Lucien only took a single pull off the joint, wanting to touch his lips to something Dieter’s were just on.

“I don’t think you can drive,” Lucien notes, as Dieter sways back and forth when he rises from his barstool.

“Oh shiiit, I drove here, huh?”

“You did,” Lucien chuckles. Before he can think, he offers. “My place is close, come on, you can sober up there.”

“Coffee?” Dieter asks.

“Coffee.”

Their walk back to Lucien’s would be a lot quicker if Dieter weren’t stumbling over his feet while he excitedly talks about his top three Kurosawa films. “Definitely Yojimbo! Fistful of Dollars totally ripped the plot.”

“I’ve never seen it.”

Dieter stops in his tracks, his jaw slackened in shock. “Dude! It’s so good!” he shouts.

Lucien smiles when he looks back at Dieter, standing on the sidewalk under the night sky. His eyes are heavier and redder, his lazy smile is wide. “Come on,” Lucien says, tilting his head towards his apartment building. “We’re almost there.”

Lucien hasn’t had anyone over to his place in weeks, not since the one-night stand with a pretty girl named Louise he met while living the Hollywood dream, working as a werewolf at Universal Studios Horror Nights.

Lucien unlocks his door, pushing it open to reveal his small studio apartment. An unmade bed, a couple of dirty dishes in the sink, a bookshelf filled with books, scripts, and random tchotchkes he’s found during his few travels. His only wall decoration is a cracked, antique mirror he found at the Rose Bowl and a thin, cheap black framed poster of James Dean in Rebel Without A Cause.

Dieter moves through the small space, his eyes wide and curious as he gravitates towards the bookshelf.

“You’ve got good taste,” he says, pulling out a dog-eared copy of “On The Road.” He flips through the pages.

“LA is a jungle,” Lucien quietly quotes as he watches one of the most handsome men he’s ever seen stand in his apartment.

A jungle indeed…

A jungle of emotions, losses and gains, strangers and neighbors, auditions, rejections, and connections.

“Coffee?” Lucien asks.

Dieter’s head turns, his golden earring glinting and his brown eyes sparkling in the lamp light. “Coffee,” he repeats, as he plops down on the sofa, already making himself at home, his arm stretched across the back of the small loveseat.

The old drip coffee maker gurgles the last drop of coffee out into the carafe. “I only have one mug,” Lucien says. “Lemme clean a glass and I ca—”

“We can share,” Dieter says.

Lucien doesn’t argue, it’s secretly what he was hoping for. “Is black okay?”

“I usually want a mountain of sugar and cream, but black will do,” Dieter responds.

Lucien carries the mug over to the couch, settling next to Dieter. Both of their bodies broad, taking up enough of the space on the small sofa that their shoulders and thighs touch. He passes the mug to Dieter, his rings clacking against the ceramic.

Dieter takes a long sip, humming in appreciation. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I love shitty coffee.”

Lucien laughs as he takes the mug back, their fingers lingering against one another. “I do too.” He takes a drink from the same spot where Dieter’s lips had been.

Lucien reaches the mug towards Dieter, but he doesn’t take it, instead, he leans forward, something on Lucien’s coffee table catching his eye. “No way,” he says, reaching for a stack of DVD cases from Blockbuster. He picks up a case from the pile. “Oh my god. Velvet Goldmine, I’ve been wanting to watch this forever.”

“I haven’t seen it yet,” Lucien admits, looking between the DVD case and Dieter’s excited face. The responsible part of his brain reminds him he has to be at the cafe by six tomorrow morning, but the warmth of Dieter beside him makes his decision simple. “Do you want to watch it?”

“Fuck yeah!” Dieter says, trading him the case for the coffee mug.

Lucien gets up and puts the disc in before he settles on the couch and presses play.

“I can’t believe you have this,” Dieter says, after gulping down a drink of coffee. “I’m so in love with Ewan McGregor. Sometimes I think I got into acting just to meet him.”

Lucien laughs. “Yeah, he’s cute.”

Dieter glances at him, a tiny, knowing smile lifting his lips. The opening credits roll, glam rock in its finest on the screen. Dieter’s knee presses against his around fifteen minutes into the movie, and Lucien doesn’t move his leg.

The coffee mug sits forgotten on the table, the bright lights, glittery costumes, and rock music make Lucien more comfortable.

“Can I smoke in here?” Dieter asks.

“Uh, sure,” Lucien responds.

“Great,” Dieter says, reaching into his cardigan and grabbing a cigarette. Lucien looks over at the sound of the flick of the lighter, the low orange glow of the flame lights Dieter’s profile, he can’t look away.

Dieter catches Lucien staring and offers him the lit cigarette. He takes it, feeling the electric jolt from Dieter’s touch travel from his fingers to his heart. He brings the cigarette to his lips, tasting the ghost of Dieter’s mouth, the subtle taste of coffee and whiskey.

They pass the cigarette back and forth. Lucien has no idea what’s happening on the screen, he’s too caught up in the feel of Dieter’s hand against his, their hands meeting for longer and longer each time. There’s a silent tension, he’s sure Dieter’s not too drunk to feel it.

“Where should I ash?” Dieter asks.

“Kitchen sink.”

Dieter gets up and heads towards the kitchen sink. Lucien takes the opportunity to scoot a bit closer to the middle of the couch. When Dieter sits down, now they touch shoulders, sides, thighs, and legs. Dieter doesn’t make an attempt to move. They just stay there, warm bodies close, the kaleidoscope colors of the glam rock movie swirling around the small apartment.

Ewan McGregor as Curt Wild appears on stage, shirtless, dripping oil on himself. Lucien tenses, glancing over at Dieter, Dieter has a smile across his face, his head nodding along to the song being played. Glitter is sprinkled across Curt’s body, and Lucien’s hand tightens against the armrest at the sight. He’s so turned on right now, between the movie and Dieter’s closeness. He can feel himself twitching underneath his jeans. He tells himself to calm down, until Curt pulls his pants down, his bare ass and cock revealed to the crowd and the two movie watchers.

Dieter growls, “fucck, look at him!” excitedly leaning forward. “Oh my god, this movie rules.”

Lucien nervously chuckles, trying to shift as imperceptibly as he can. He’s so tense and so turned on, he’s growing harder and harder, barely able to hide his erection in his jeans. He feels overheated, he’s sweating, and it’s not because his pitiful window unit barely keeps his tiny apartment under 80 degrees.

Dieter settles back against the couch, somehow even closer to Lucien’s body. “You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, just… the movie’s pretty crazy,” Lucien manages.

“Mmm,” Dieter hums. Lucien can feel the vibration of it. “Good crazy?”

Lucien thinks. “Yeah,” he says.

Dieter turns, angling his body towards him, eyes flicking between Lucien’s eyes and lips.

Lucien can no longer hear the glam rock soundtrack of the movie, all he can hear is his heart thundering inside his chest. Dieter slowly leans in, their faces now inches apart. Lucien can feel Dieter’s breath and smell the tobacco and coffee.

“Do you like crazy?” Dieter husks, his eyes darkening.

Lucien swallows hard. He nods, unable to find the words.

A mischievous grin spreads across Dieter’s face before he leans in to kiss him. Lucien gasps before he melts into the feel of Dieter’s plush lips. Dieter tests the kiss, softly pressing his lips against Lucien’s, but when Lucien doesn’t pull away and actually leans into it, his hand resting atop Dieter’s chest, he deepens it, tongue tracing the seam of Lucien’s lips. Lucien opens for him, a quiet groan leaving, joining the sound of glam rock playing in the background.

Dieter’s hands are all over Lucien, threading through his hair, gripping his shoulder, sliding down to rest on his thigh, trailing over to feel Lucien straining against his jeans.

Lucien’s whole body tenses, his hips instinctively bucking up at the touch. His tongue tangles with Dieter’s, tasting the bitter coffee and warm whiskey. He’s hopelessly desperate for him now, he’s never met someone like Dieter… so open, honest, funny, and unforgettable. Lucien rests his hand over Dieter’s, pressing it firmer against the hard line of his cock. Dieter lowly chuckles against Lucien’s lips before he begins to trail kisses down his neck. Lucien’s head falls back against the couch cushion, his eyes fluttering closed as Dieter traces his tongue across his Adam’s apple, his stubble rasping against his sensitive skin.

Lucien’s never gone this far with a man before; the few drunken make-outs with other guys behind bars or in dark rooms at parties are nothing compared to the feel of Dieter’s mouth against his pulse.

He wants more.

He reaches for Dieter’s cardigan, pulling it down his shoulder and letting it bundle against the couch. Dieter’s gray shirt is thin and worn, Lucien can feel the heat radiating off his skin when he runs his hand over his chest.

Dieter unbuttons a button of Lucien’s shirt, kissing the newly exposed skin before he quickly unfastens the rest, greedy to see his chest. He leans back when Lucien is exposed to him, staring at the golden skin across his broad, strong body.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he whispers, before leaning down to press a kiss against the gold chain that glints across his neck before he licks his nipple and moves to the other, his tongue circling it before he sucks it gently into his mouth.

Lucien can’t control his breathing, it grows ragged and needy as Dieter unbuttons and unzips Lucien’s fly, slipping his hand inside his pants. Lucien’s hips buck up at the first touch of Dieter’s hand wrapping around his cock and pulling it out before giving it a slow tug that makes Lucien whimper.

Dieter looks up at him. “Yeah?” he asks.

He can only manage to nod frantically, adjusting himself to lean back further into the couch cushions. His heart hammering against his chest as Dieter begins kissing his way down his torso, his tongue tracing the line of hair that leads down to Lucien’s cock.

Dieter settles between his legs, grabbing his pants and tugging them down his thick thighs. There’s a moment of vulnerability, Lucien’s exposed, wanting, hard, leaking, and a little bit terrified, before Dieter takes him into his mouth.

“Oh my god,” Lucien gasps.

Sure, he’s had his fair share of women’s mouths on him, but he’s never had a man’s. Dieter’s mouth is different—wider, stronger, his tongue broader as he flattens it against the underside of his cock.

Lucien looks down, watching dark hair bobbing between his legs, Dieter’s plush lips stretched around his wide cock. He almost cums at that sight alone before he threads his fingers through Dieter’s fluffy hair.

There’s a low hum of glam rock coming from the television, but both men don’t seem to care, the music turning to white noise between their grunts and groans.

Dieter cups Lucien’s balls, squeezing them gently as he bobs his head up and down his length, making all of him feel electric, the pressure’s already beginning to build at the base of his spine.

Dieter pulls off, looking up with swollen lips, and gives Lucien a wink as he wraps his hand around his cock, tugging and jerking him off. He spits across Lucien’s dick as he picks up the pace. Lucien can’t speak, all he can do is groan and whimper. The sight before him—Dieter’s handsome face, intense brown eyes, his hand covered in rings glinting in the light as he works Lucien’s cock—it’s almost too much.

He thinks about how Dieter’s face would look, his face streaked with his cum. The thought makes his back tighten, and his cock pulses. A blinding orgasm courses through him, his body tensing as he spills all over Dieter’s hand and his stomach. Dieter strokes him through it, white ropes of Lucien’s cum landing all over the dark, coarse hair that surrounds his cock. Lucien looks down, watching as Dieter leans forward to lick the last drops from the tip of him. He shudders, panting for air as Dieter sits up, reaching for his gray shirt to wipe his mouth and face.

“I could have gotten you a towel,” Lucien manages to say between breaths.

Dieter shrugs. “No problem. Maybe it’ll force me to get to the laundromat.”

Lucien waits for shame to hit him, for regret or embarrassment to cloud the moment, but it doesn’t happen. Something about Dieter and his energy, his easiness, and open acceptance makes all of this feel right and okay.

“I’m going to clean up,” Lucien says, pulling his pants back up and heading to the bathroom.

When he returns, Dieter is standing in the living room, his cardigan back on, looking at the movie credits rolling on the TV. When he hears Lucien return, he turns.

“I should probably get going.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s fine.” Lucien feels the awkwardness creeping in. “I’ll walk you to your car."

Dieter smiles a lopsided grin. “I’d like that.”

The moon hangs high in the late-night sky, Dieter and Lucien walk side by side down the empty sidewalk, making casual conversation.

“I wish I knew how the movie ended,” Dieter chuckles. “But, I guess, we made a better ending.”

Lucien feels the heat bloom in his cheeks, but he doesn’t feel embarrassed at all.

They pass a large Victorian house with a large garden, flowers peeking through the wrought iron fence. Before Lucien can say anything, Dieter’s darting across the sidewalk and hopping over the low fence.

“What are you doing?” Lucien hisses, glancing around nervously.

Dieter doesn’t answer, instead, he returns with a green carnation held between his fingers.

“For you,” he says with a wide smile.

Lucien takes the flower, a feeling beginning to grow in his chest. No one has ever given him flowers before. It’s so unexpected, so perfectly Dieter that he can’t help himself, right there in the middle of the sidewalk—he leans forward and kisses Dieter.

Dieter returns the kiss, his hands reaching up to squeeze Lucien’s biceps.

When Lucien pulls away, Dieter's eyes are twinkling brighter than the lights of the city they both call home.

“I’ll see you at the next audition,” Dieter promises.

“Yeah,” Lucien agrees, clutching tighter to the carnation he holds. “You will.”

Lucien watches Dieter drive away after he gives him one last wink.

When he gets back to his apartment, he finds a post-it note on the long-forgotten cup of coffee.

I BORROWED ON THE ROAD. IF YOU WANT IT BACK, HERE’S MY #

Inside the coffee mug that Dieter and Lucien shared sits the green carnation. Lucien passes the same garden Dieter picked it from every day as he makes his way to and from the cafe.

It’s become a ritual; he stops, wrapping his hand around the cool iron bar, and allows himself to take a moment to think about Dieter. How safe and accepted he felt. How easy all of it was. How his lips felt against his.

Tonight, after a ten-hour shift, he’s exhausted, but the sunset lights the garden in a deep orange, reminding him of the bronzed brilliance of Dieter’s skin. He reaches into his pocket, feeling his cell phone. He doesn’t even need the Post-it note. He’s already memorized his number.

So, he dials it. One hand holding his phone, one hand holding on to the metal fence. He stares at the garden, bright, verdant, and beautiful, as the phone rings.

It takes four rings for Dieter to pick up.

“Hello?”

A pause. Lucien’s throat suddenly tightens. “Hey… it’s Lucien.”

“De Leon. Good to hear you.”

He can hear the smile in Dieter’s voice.

“How are you?” Lucien asks. Cringing at how formal he sounds.

“Hmm, better now,” Dieter responds. “Where are you?”

Lucien doesn’t dare say he’s standing by the garden, reminiscing about the one magical night they had. Instead, he takes the simple answer. “Outside my apartment.”

“It’s beautiful out right now. Isn’t it?”

“It is. How’s the book?”

Dieter chuckles. “Yeah, haven’t even cracked it open. Just wanted to give you my number.”

“Meet me for dinner?” Lucien surprises himself when the question tumbles out of his mouth.

“I’d love that.”

—-

It goes further, after four “dates”—if you can even call them that. The first week, it’s Burgers from the not-so-clean fast food place next to Lucien’s apartment. Then, pizza from Domino’s because Lucien got a coupon, and he only had $22 in his account. Followed by Chinese from the place where Dieter lives above. And now, sushi takeout from the kind of nice restaurant to celebrate Dieter booking a small extra role in a police procedural.

There are brightly colored rolls of various types across Lucien’s coffee table, a true splurge for both struggling actors.

“Imagine being able to eat this every single day, I’d be in HEAVEN,” Dieter says, dipping a maki roll into the bowl of soy sauce.

Both men easily finish off their $60 sushi order, along with a bottle of mid-priced sake that Lucien pours the final glass for Dieter.

“For you,” Lucien offers, “and for DRUG COPS.”

Dieter accepts it with the crooked grin that Lucien’s beginning to realize he loves to see and downs the glass. Dieter’s eyes don’t leave Lucien’s, making his breath hitch. Dieter wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, the room suddenly feels smaller and warmer. Their eyes stay locked on each other’s, the lingering smell of ginger and sweet sake mixed with the earthy cologne of Dieter’s, a smell that’s become so familiar to Lucien over these past weeks. It overwhelms him, and he’s unsure if it’s okay.

“I should clean these up,” Lucien says, collecting the empty containers. He suddenly feels so tense in a way he can’t explain. Dieter watches him from the couch, observing the slight tremor in Lucien’s hands.

“Let me help,” he offers, rising to his feet, but he wobbles before he falls back against the couch. “Fuckin’ sake.”

“It’s alright, I got it.”

Lucien focuses on the task, trying to calm the rapid beat of his heart, trying to ignore the invisible pull and want that’s beginning to reveal itself too much to him.

When he returns from the kitchen, Dieter’s managed to stand, his back turned. “You can see that garden from here,” he muses, looking out the large window at the sun beginning to set.

“Really?”

“Yep, c’mere.”

Dieter moves behind Lucien when he joins him by the window with his chest pressed close against Lucien’s back.

“I don’t see anything,” Lucien says, looking across the horizon.

Dieter rests his chin on Lucien’s shoulder, and Lucien almost melts at the closeness. Dieter’s hand comes up, placing his palm against Lucien’s cheek, angling his head to the left.

“There,” Dieter whispers, his lips against Lucien’s ear. “See it now?”

And then Lucien sees it. A small patch of green, but he’d know that green anywhere. Chartreuse and bright. Lucien stares, thinking about how special Dieter has become to him. He turns in his arms, his face just mere inches away. He’s the only person he’s thought about, ever since that audition. Only Dieter Bravo.

He surges forward, pressing his mouth against Dieter's, capturing his lips. Desperate and hungry for him. Everything he’s been holding back for the past few weeks. Dieter grunts a surprised sound against his lips, before he responds, his tongue parting Lucien’s lips, his hands gripping his waist.

Lucien walks them backward, not breaking the kiss, guiding Dieter toward his bed. Both men’s bodies fall against the bed, sending the mattress to thud against the wall. Lucien hovers over Dieter, one arm bracing himself as the other pushes his shirt up, feeling the warmth that radiates off of him. He kisses his way down Dieter’s body, lips tracing a path down his sternum, across his pecs, tongue flicking over each nipple. He kisses the soft swell of Dieter’s stomach as he unties the drawstrings of his pants. Dieter lifts his hips, helping to tug his pants down his thighs.

Lucien lies between Dieter’s legs, staring at Dieter’s beautiful, thick, half-hard cock. His mouth goes dry, he’s never done this before, but he wants to. He wants to taste Dieter, to make him cum, to feel the sense of pride that he could make someone as handsome as him feel good.

Lucien leans in, nuzzling his face against the bulge of him, breathing in the heady, earthy scent. He’s intoxicated by him, masculine and warm, and only Dieter. He trails his nose along the length of his cock, feeling it grow harder.

“Fuck,” Dieter groans.

The sound of his name in Dieter’s voice emboldens him. He thinks about what he likes when someone sucks his dick. He swirls his tongue around the tip, tasting the saltiness of Dieter’s precum. Lucien feels the heavy weight of Dieter’s cock against his tongue as he parts his lips, taking it into his mouth slowly.

Dieter’s fingers run through Lucien’s hair, tightening but not pushing, only holding. Lucien looks up, enamored with the sight in front of him, Dieter’s brown eyes looking almost inky black in the pale orange sunset, his pupils blown wide.

Lucien wants to be good at this, to make Dieter always look at him like this. He takes more of Dieter into his mouth, all the way to the back of his throat, cheeks hollowing as he sucks, remembering the way Dieter had done this for him.

Dieter pumps his hips up, guiding himself in and out of Lucien’s mouth as he bobs his head up and down rhythmically.

“Fuck,” he grits, tugging at Lucien’s hair. “Not yet, not yet. I don’t wanna cum yet. Let me kiss you.”

Lucien lets Dieter’s cock fall out of his mouth as Dieter reaches for him, pulling him up to kiss him. Dieter flips their bodies over, Lucien’s back meeting the mattress as Dieter’s fingers work at the buttons of Lucien’s shirt. Dieter pushes the fabric aside, his mouth trailing down Lucien’s neck, overheating Lucien’s body as he charts his path down. Lucien’s desperate, already pulling at his belt and tugging his jeans down. His cock strains against his boxers as Dieter palms him through the fabric.

Dieter yanks down Lucien’s boxers, his hard cock bobbing, straining, and aching for Dieter’s touch. Dieter wraps his big hand around him, stroking slowly from base to tip, before he lowers his head, taking Lucien's cock into his mouth, tasting the precum leaking out of his tip as he strokes him, sucking the fat tip of him as his other hand moves lower, fingers tracing the sensitive skin behind Lucien’s balls.

His breath hitches. He’s experimented with girls before, but this is different—Dieter’s hands are larger, his fingers much thicker, and his touch more confident. Dieter’s finger begins circling Lucien’s asshole, massaging his tight ring of muscle with the gentlest touch of pressure. He tenses almost by instinct, before he forces himself to relax.

"This okay?” he asks.

“Yes,” Lucien breathes. “Please.”

The wet heat of Dieter’s mouth on his cock mixed with the new, almost strange pressure against his hole makes all of Lucien vibrate with need. And when DIeter finally pushes his finger inside, Lucien gasps, back arching of the bed, head thudding against the pillow.

There’s a touch of a burn, a bite of pain, but it quickly gives way to something so intense he swears he can see the stars bursting behind his eyelids. Dieter works him good and expertly, mouth and finger moving in perfect sync with each other, bringing Lucien close to the edge before he backs off and crawls back up Lucien’s body to kiss him. Lucien trembles underneath him, his tongue hot and needy in Dieter’s mouth.

“Do you have lube?” Dieter asks between kisses.

Lucien nods frantically, reaching towards his bedside table, yanking the drawer open, and fumbling inside until he finds the bottle of lube and box of condoms. He wants this. He wants Dieter inside him so bad.

Dieter grabs the lube before he moves back down Lucien’s body, settling between his legs. He flips open the cap of lube, coating his fingers and coats Lucien’s entrance, the cool slick of the lube making Dieter’s finger glide easier into him. His touch is firmer, stretching Lucien carefully when he adds another slick finger. The familiar burn is there, but now it’s overwhelmed by pure pleasure, especially when Dieter takes his cock back into his mouth.

Lucien writhes on the bed, whimpering Dieter’s name, lost in the feeling of another man’s touch.

"Are you... do you want m—" Dieter asks.

“Yes!” Lucien practically begs, cutting him off. He doesn’t know if he’s ever wanted anything more in his life.

A satisfied smile lights Dieter’s face as he tears open a condom wrapper and rolls it down his length. He lubes his cock up before he lifts Lucien’s legs and positions himself between his thighs. Dieter looks down, admiring the sight of Lucien spread wide before him, legs hooked over his shoulders, hole slick and ready.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Dieter praises as he presses the wide tip of his cock against Lucien’s hole. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

Lucien nods before he throws his head back, neck straining at the feel of Dieter’s cock pushing inside. He goes slow, giving Lucien time to adjust to the stretch.

“Okay?” Dieter asks.

Lucien can only nod through the strange sensation of feeling so full. It doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t scare him, in fact, he finds himself wanting more. “Move,” he manages to say.

Dieter begins to rock his hips, slow and shallow, before they deepen as Lucien relaxes around him. Dieter rolls his hips slowly and carefully, dragging his cock against Lucien’s walls.

“Fuck,” Lucien gasps, hands fisting in the sheets when Dieter’s hips meet his ass. Dieter’s hand braces against Lucien’s thigh, opening him wider to take him harder.

Lucien watches the way Dieter’s stomach tenses with each thrust, the sheen of sweat shining where his gray shirt is hiked up, the feral tick of his smile. This sight might just be the hottest thing Lucien’s ever seen, he can’t look away. He reaches down, desperation making him grab his cock, sticky from Dieter’s spit and precum. He looks down, watching Lucien jerk himself off, rough and needy, before he dribbles spit down, letting it fall onto Lucien’s swollen head.

Lucien feels the obscene, slick sounds of spit, lube, and skin, the cheap bed frame rattling against the drywall. His entire world is now just Dieter and the way he makes him feel, the thick rutting slide of his cock inside him, the friction that sparks between both men when they lock eyes.

He can’t last. The pace is too perfect. Hard. Deep. Demanding, but full of tenderness and patience. Lucien’s never been this open, so needy for every inch that Dieter gives him.

They’re both sweating, Dieter’s jaw flexing with every push, his rings biting into Lucien’s thighs where he holds him wide.

Lucien feels the pressure building inside him, the pooling low in his belly spreading even hotter, almost boiling as it tightens every muscle. He strokes himself along to the rhythm of Dieter’s cock. He’s trembling against the sweat-sticky sheets, groaning sounds escaping from his throat as Dieter takes him.

He can’t hold out. His whole body wrenching up off the mattress as he cums, his cock spitting white heat on his stomach. Dieter groans at the sight, pulling out, tearing off the condom, his hand wrapping around his cock. One, two, three strokes before he erupts, his cum pulsing over Lucien’s stomach, mixing with his, spilling higher across his skin and clinging to the dark hair above his belly.

Lucien’s barely catching his breath at the sight when Dieter leans in, tongue darting out to lap up the mess, slowly and greedily. His tongue drags through the sticky pool, nose pressed against Lucien’s skin. There’s a plea from Lucien’s mouth, wanting to taste Dieter’s tongue. He crawls up his body and kisses him. It’s so lush, Lucien’s tongue tasting of both of their essence, like nothing he’s ever tasted.

Dieter collapses beside him, both of them catching their breath, slick and shiny skin shining under the cheap lamplight. Lucien stares at the popcorn ceiling, his heart thudding so hard and loud he can hear it in his ears, drowning out the wobbling ceiling fan and the fading music from the TV with some late-night talk show he dreams of appearing on one day. He breaks through the fucked haze, sitting up, his thighs feeling like jelly.

“Bathroom,” he mumbles.

Dieter gives a lazy thumbs-up from the bed.

Once behind the shield of the cheap, hollow bathroom door, Lucien looks at himself in the mirror. Sure, the post-sex glow is there, but his jaw sits looser, his brows less furrowed, his eyes brighter, but with pupils blown and wild. His hair’s a riot, sweat gleaming on his skin, his lips swollen from Dieter’s stubble and mustache. He runs the water, splashing his face and wiping himself clean, the stains across his chest and stomach are stubborn, clinging to him, kind of like the feelings he holds for Dieter since they met.

When he pads back to the bedroom, in a new pair of boxers, Dieter is still in his bed, flat out, not even under the blanket, his legs splayed, arms stretched out. He gets up, scratching his stomach, looking at Lucien with zero hint of embarrassment, just standing there fully naked in Lucien’s bedroom. He’s never seen anyone so at ease in their own skin, not caring about being fully on display. Dieter crosses the room, leaving a kiss on Lucien’s cheek before he pulls away with a wink and lopes off to the bathroom.

Lucien sits at the edge of the bed, not sure what the routine is after this. He bends forward, elbows on knees, and looks out the window, imagining the garden with the green carnations. He imagines a life in that Victorian home, with Dieter, their broad shoulders fighting for room on the small porch swing. He shocks himself at the thought. Almost shaming himself that he could never have such a thing right now. Too many auditions and too many chances would be lost if they were to find out. There’s an inkling of shame inside him, he can never go back, he’s changed now, by Dieter and his charm and handsome face. He sighs, ready to let the shame overtake him, until Dieter returns, smelling of Lucien’s shitty hand soap, but still smelling of fresh grass and sweet lemon. He’s still naked, climbing into bed, his large hand coming to rest on Lucien’s shoulder, tipping him back. Lucien lies down next to Dieter, losing the fight not to match Dieter’s contagious smile.

“This was nice,” Dieter says, leaning over to flick the lamp off.

“Yeah,” Lucien responds, trying to let Dieter’s warmth radiate into his coldness.

Dieter props himself up on his elbows. “You good?”

Lucien nods, because underneath it all… he is good. “Yeah. You?”

Dieter grins. “Absolutely.”

They lie there for a long time. Dieter falls asleep quickly, his hand on Lucien’s side. It should feel suffocating to be this close, but it doesn’t.

Lucien doesn’t know what time he drifts off, but when he wakes, the sun is just beginning to warm his bed. Dieter’s still there, mouth open, snoring softly.

Lucien moves carefully, staring at the ceiling. Last night is still inside and alive in his body, all of it still so vivid. It’d be easy to push Dieter away and say nothing changed, but he knows that’s not true.

He sneaks out of bed, looking out the window, eyes squinting to find the deep maroon roof of the Victorian where the flowers in the garden grow.

—-

It continues. Blooming like a garden. New feelings, new memories, new discoveries for Lucien. In clubs, packed enough to blur the identities of everyone inside. Almost making Lucien feel like he could disappear. There’s an almost anonymity, bodies pressed together, nobody paying attention.

Tonight, it’s a place in Koreatown that Dieter’s roommate insisted was “the spot.” The club is crawling with their kind, broke performers with dreams just trying to outrun their post-audition crashouts.

Dieter pulls him to the dance floor, dragging him through the mass of strangers. They dance, jumping up and down, singing along to the song, arms pumping in the air.

Lucien tries not to focus on the little details he now craves: the indent of Dieter’s collarbone, the tiny glint of his golden earring in the club lights, the plush of his bottom lip that he craves to nibble.

He wonders if anyone here would clock them as together. He hopes not. Or maybe he hopes so. The beat pulses until the music changes—something slow and melodic. Dieter moves closer, pulling Lucien against him, rocking their bodies together. Dieter’s forehead rests against his, lips so close, Lucien wants to kiss him badly, the urge is so strong, it almost overtakes him.

But even in the blue-dark and the sweaty anonymity of the club, Lucien jerks away. Dieter’s smile falters, but only for a bit before he adjusts his energy, shrinking to match the radius of Lucien’s comfortability. Lucien almost aches with guilt when he notices.

They leave together, the cool night air cooling them down. Dieter calls a taxi, splurging on it thanks to his check from DRUG COPS. They slide into the backseat, knees touching, but nothing more.

A walk up the rickety steps to Lucien’s apartment, as soon as the door closes, Lucien crowds Dieter against the wall, lips landing against his stubbled jaw, pressing Dieter into the cheap drywall. He pulls him to bed, dragging him down, both men falling onto the mattress. Lucien wants him so badly he almost hates it. He undresses Dieter before he tears his suffocating clothes off, desperate to not have anything between them. Lucien is more urgent, more needy.

Dieter takes Lucien, hands at his hips, guiding, holding, gripping him hard as he fucks him. It’s different every time, like Dieter’s learning and listening with his whole body, memorizing every nerve ending. Tonight it’s rough, half-drunk, and too good.

Lucien’s on all fours, he’s never had it like this before, sure, he’s fucked lots of girls this way, but now to be taken this way… it’s earth-shattering. He stares out the window as he groans at the sensation of Dieter’s cock stretching him. There’s a glinting in the bright moonlight and the orange glow of the street lamps, and he sees the old Victorian roof and the promise of the flowers and garden blooming outside it. He wants to reach for that house, that bright, verdant garden, the ache of being seen, wanted, and ruined by someone who doesn’t care is watching. But he can’t allow it, even when Dieter groans his name as he cums. Whispers it, low and tenderly, even as his fingers are digging into Lucien’s skin. He wants to shout his name, let the world hear, but he can’t.

When it’s over, Dieter holds him, head nestled against Lucien’s chest, their legs tangled together. So many nights end like this now. Lucien stares at the ceiling as Dieter snores softly.

He wonders what it would be like to be that open, that happy, to walk through the world so freely. He knows he can’t. He knows he’ll never be allowed to have this, not with his Hollywood hopes and dreams.

So, Lucien pulls back from him, being quiet as they eat their instant oatmeal, Dieter spooning brown sugar over his bowl.

“Are we doing anything tonight?” Dieter simply asks.

Lucien freezes. “Don’t you have that callback?”

“I’ll be free after.”

Lucien wants to say yes. He wants to say it so bad. “I have work,” he lies.

“At night?”

“Y-yeah,” he replies.

“Cool, totally cool,” Dieter says, his shoulders sinking.

But is it?

—-

It becomes a pattern, the garden inside Lucien that Dieter planted begins to wither.

Dieter calls, Lucien invents shifts that don’t exist, says that he’s busy, that he’s tired.

At the next shared audition, Dieter is there, but Lucien sits two chairs away. Lucien tells himself that this is what he wanted, what he needs. Distance, safety, career first, the Hollywood lights, and yet all he can do is imagine the heft of Dieter’s weight pushing him into the mattress.

The green carnation lies dead now, still in that mug, petals dropped and long gone. Now, just a curled, brown, dead thing, and yet Lucien refuses to toss it out.

He avoids the Victorian house, choosing a different bus stop, because every time he sees that garden, he dares himself to actually want something. But, he can’t allow himself. Growing a garden with another man won’t make you a star.

—-

Years pass, roles are lost and booked. Dieter and Lucien’s paths venture farther and farther away. Dieter’s star burns brightly while Lucien’s fizzles, filled with parts in community theater and small speaking roles. He cycles in and out of appearances, playing the good guy or bad guy, whatever will pay the rent.

Then, a party in the Hollywood Hills at some mega mansion. Lucien’s flavor of the week gets an invite and mentions it’s being thrown by some Oscar winner. She’s not sure of the name, only that she knows it’s going to have good drinks and drugs. Lucien goes, clad in a brightly colored silk button-up. He smokes the whole drive over, cigarette after cigarette… a bad habit he picked up from the only man he’s ever cared for in that special way. For some reason, he’s unsettled, letting the nicotine try to calm his mysterious nerves.

He realizes it as soon as he walks in and smells the scent he can’t forget. Earth, citrus, musk. His spine tightens, goosebumps chilling against his skin. “Dieter,” he whispers to himself. A name he hasn’t said out loud since he groaned it into the night air all those years ago. He lets go of his date’s hand, not even hearing her call his name as his heart compels him forward through the vast home and countless famous faces as he searches for Dieter.

He’s there, in a room filled with people, standing apart from the crowd, shining like the star he was always destined to be. He hears his distinct laugh, the deep rasp of his voice. He stares, brown eyes focused on the golden star. And then, Dieter looks over, almost as if he senses Lucien. A shocked look crosses his face before that lazy smile Lucien thinks about still to this day spreads across his lips.

Dieter bounds towards Lucien, grabbing his hand and pulling him out of the room and down a dark hall. He pushes him into a room, closing the door and turning on a light. They both look the same, but larger, deeper creases across their faces, more stories to tell behind their matching brown eyes. Lucien is transported back all those years to struggling, skinny Dieter, with his tiny waist but broad shoulders and strong arms. Now, he’s more defined, a small belly protruding from his linen pants. He’s even more handsome than Lucien remembers. Lucien feels like Dieter’s staring at him in the same way, assessing him, remembering the smaller, shyer kid of yesteryear.

“Hi,” Dieter says. “Been a long, long time, De Leon.”

“Hey,” Lucien manages to say, his throat dry and rough, before he gently clears it.

There’s an easiness, a comfort, a glimpse of what both Lucien could have had as they catch up for hours, long after the party has dwindled, well past when Lucien’s frustrated date left with another man. They sit closer and closer, soon Dieter’s arm is resting around Lucien’s shoulder, both men’s eyes growing heavier as the sun begins to rise.

“C’mon,” Dieter says, “you can stay with me.” Lucien doesn’t even hesitate. It’s been far too long. When he follows Dieter into his room, he almost trips over his feet at the sight. On the table near his bed is a vase of green carnations, almost glowing under the lamplight. He could never forget the bright color of them. When Dieter lies him down into the bed, Lucien can’t keep his eyes off the blooms, even when Dieter’s mouth finds his, he still stares at the flowers, imagining the possibilities. Only when Dieter’s hands find his zipper does Lucien look away, closing his eyes and groaning at the feeling inside and outside that only Dieter Bravo can give him.

Lucien feels himself bloom as Dieter takes him, hovering over him, stretching Lucien in the way he has never forgotten, making him feel the height of pleasure he’s been chasing. Afterwards, as both men lay sweating and smiling in each other's arms, Dieter pulls away, rolling over to open his bedside drawer.

“By the way,” he says, pulling Lucien’s well-worn copy of On The Road out. “I still haven’t returned this.”

#pedro pascal characters #dieter bravo #angst #special guest #m/m #secret relationship #dieter fic #gethsemane fic #oneshot

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mysterious-musings-chaos-corner · 16 days ago

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PERFECT MATCH

Dieter Bravo x f!reader x Marcus Pike

Summary: Dieter becomes a face of a dating app and meets you and your husband while shooting an ad for it. Feeling an immense attraction, he invites you both to his penthouse, planning to enjoy the night and you to the fullest.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, fluff, threesome, shifting pov’s but it’s mostly Dieter’s, love is in the air, wholesome depravity, a lil bit of cuckolding, mm oral, body worship, lactation kink galore, pregnancy kink, unprotected piv, f/m! oral, breastfeeding, cumeating, Dieter is nasty and sweet, alcohol consumption, swearing.

Word count: 3,7k

A/n: first of all, Happy Valentine's Day, lovelies! I’m sending y’all kisses and hugs! This is written for Bouquets of Pedro creativity challenge created by @happypedrohours 💞 but also for me and for like minded ppl🥛 If it’s not your thing, it’s totally ok (give it a taste tho, you might like it hehe) Kisses to my baby @milla-frenchy for the support and beta-ing!💋Have a wonderful weekend, y’all!❤️

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

MASTERLIST

“A face of a dating app? Me? Are you shitting me right now?”

Dieter lowered his sunglasses to stare at Erin, his PR manager. They’d met at a restaurant to discuss the future of his career after it had been hit by yet another scandal, involving the famous actor.

“It's not just a dating app,” Erin began explaining. “They guarantee that a person will meet their soulmate there. It’s called ‘Perfect Match‘. They have some kind of an algorithm to … ehm.. whatever. Not important. What’s important is that it’s wholesome, Dieter, and we desperately need to clean up your image. At least try,” the woman added, failing to hide defeat in her voice.

“ ‘s all defamation,” Dieter mumbled before taking a sip of his 11am White Russian.

The woman continued,

”If you want to ever be in a good movie, that’s a great start. Right now casting directors avoid you like a plague. B movies will be all you can get pretty soon.”

“Ouch.”

“You know it’s true.”

Dieter did know it so he said ‘yes‘.

He and his team met with the app people the next week. He missed half of the shit they discussed playing ‘animal crossing’ on his Switch but at the end of the meeting he signed the contract and they scheduled an ad shoot.

On the day of the shoot, Dieter was ready to die of boredom, filming the boring ad - he had to interview a happily married couple that had found each other on the app. In his mind he was already planning what he was going to drink, sniff, take and fuck that night, barely noticing what was happening around him on set.

Yet when he saw the couple, his attitude made a u-turn, especially when he laid his eyes on the most precious co-star - you. His mind short circuited and every part of him started buzzing.

Especially his cock.

You were a beautiful woman, there was no question about that, but what made him howl like a cartoon wolf was your big pregnant belly, accentuated by your thin summer dress. Your boobs were almost spilling out of the neckline and Dieter immediately bricked up as he shamelessly took you in.

"Meet the Pikes," his manager introduced the two of you. "They met on the app, got married and now they’re expecting a baby. Isn't it wonderful?"

"Amazing. When's the due date?" Dieter blurted out, shaking your hand, almost choking on his saliva.

"Next month," you replied without a beat, smiling widely at the actor. "I'm a huge fan of yours, Mr Bravo. And my husband too."

Your husband, Marcus, turned out to be an aspiring actor. He was hot as well, tall and well built with short dark hair and eager eyes. He looked too clean for Dieter, too put-together in his white dress shirt and black slacks, but it could be fun to ruffle the guy up a bit.

Dieter smirked, ogling the two of you. He knew exactly what he was doing tonight.

The shoot was done fast, thanks to you two being really great on camera and Dieter applying all of himself to finish the job. He couldn’t wait to spend more time with you in a private setting.

“Hey, guys, would you like to have dinner at mine? Get to know each other better?”

Your face lit up and you looked at your husband with your eyes full of hope and excitement and Marcus accepted the invitation with a polite smile.

“Yay!” you exclaimed, making a tiny joyous jump, which made your beautiful breasts jiggle. Dieter smiled and bit his lip. ‘Yay’ indeed.

Dieter took you and Marcus home in his limo and on your way there you told him about your husband’s little roles, sounding very proud of his accomplishments. Marcus asked Dieter for some advice on how to make it big in the industry and feeling flattered the actor happily shared his thoughts.

Dieter really liked you both but you made his heart beat faster and his cock throb. Talking to your husband, he couldn’t tear his eyes off you, imagining fucking you in every possible position. He’d prefer to rail you on your back so he could see your amazing tits and your bulging belly on full display. He needed to lay his hands on your gorgeous body as soon as possible.

Suddenly he noticed that you got nervous and fidgety.

"What's wrong, beautiful?" he asked with furrowed brows, his tone concerned. "Is it the baby?"

"Oh no." You shook your head. "It's - no, nothing.

It's embarrassing."

Marcus came to your help and, when you nodded for him to go on, he explained.

"She has milk coming in and it gets uncomfortable sometimes."

Dieter almost jizzed in his soft pants that very moment.

You were looking upset, trying to fix your jacket over your boobs. Gorgeous, wonderful, perfect boobs which were apparently leaking milk right in his limo. Dieter could have thrown his hands up to the sky in a thankful prayer but instead he took your hand in his and cooed at you,

"Oh, baby, don't be embarrassed. It's the most natural thing. And it's beautiful. You're beautiful."

“Thank you, Mr Bravo,” you said with a shy smile and relaxed a little.

“Call me Dieter, honey.”

Dieter didn’t lie. You were glowing, your beauty leaving him breathless. He really wanted to see your wet top but he stopped himself from asking just in time.

Soon you arrived at his penthouse and had a nice dinner, talking about Dieter’s roles, your hopes and dreams. The older man found you two delightful but at the back of his mind he was still thinking about your leaky boobs while his cock was stiffening in his pants again and again.

After the dinner, you continued the conversation in his living room, you and your husband on the couch, Dieter in the armchair. He got you some water, two glasses of white wine for Marcus and himself and then returned to the topic on his mind.

“Can I ask you something, honey? I’m afraid it’s inappropriate.”

You looked a bit surprised and glanced at your husband before saying,

“Oh…ok.”

”I thought milk comes after a baby’s born. And you have it now?“

“Yeah, sometimes it happens before,” you started explaining, looking a little shy. ”My doctor says it’s normal. The body is getting ready.”

“Yeah, nature is amazing,” Dieter mused before taking a sip of his wine.

You sighed.

“It’s not really convenient though and it hurts a little.”

“Oh, because there’s no one to drink it yet?”

“Yeah.” You both laughed and Dieter tilted his head.

“Have you ever tasted it?”

“Mr Bravo,” you gasped, averting your eyes with a timid smile on your flushed face.

“Dieter, baby,” he corrected you. He noticed the way you bit your lip and how Marcus squirmed in his seat. You both didn’t look scandalized or offended.

“Ehm, I tasted it once,” you admitted quietly. ”Just to try it. It’s sweet.”

“Oh, really?” Dieter gruffed, his eyes sparkling at your confession. He bucked his hips— even in his soft pants his erection was getting painful.

“What about you, Marcus?”

“No, it’s for the baby,” the younger man replied with a shake of his head but immediately glanced at your gorgeous chest.

“Well, the baby isn’t here yet, right?” Dieter pushed, not tearing his dark eyes off the two of you. Marcus nodded and swallowed hard as his hand darted to adjust his crotch.

“But we are,” Dieter purred, testing the waters. Your breath hitched and you pressed your thighs together. You glanced at Dieter, your pupils dilating. The actor was sure that your pussy was already tingling, so he gave you a playful wink, then leaned forward, planting his elbows on his knees, and asked,

“Can I see them?”

That’s how you ended up moaning and whimpering, sandwiched between Dieter and your husband Marcus on the couch. Your dress neckline and bra were pulled down, your naked tits pushed up, Dieter’s lips tightly wrapped around your breast, as much as he could engulf with his greedy mouth. He was growling into your tit, slurping down your sweet milk, kneading the other leaking boob with his big hand. His cock was tenting his pants, the crotch stained with pre cum, but he was hesitant to pull his dick out. He didn’t want to push you further too fast, didn’t want your husband to take you away from him.

Marcus seemed a bit uncomfortable when you showed Dieter two wet spots on your chest and when the actor held your clothed boob, as if weighing it in his hand. But Dieter knew what he was doing. He was gushing over your beauty, meanwhile mentioning how much he wanted to help Marcus with his career, how much he was going to do for him, for your family. The prospect of being Dieter’s protégé excited the young actor. Besides he couldn’t deny that watching the older man touch your milky breasts made Marcus rock hard in seconds.

While Dieter was gulping down your milk, your sweet noises were driving Marcus mad with arousal. He would hear you moan like that only when his cock was ruining your tight pussy. A pang of regret painfully stung his heart and he chided himself for never sucking on your tits, never giving you such great pleasure.

The actor interrupted his thoughts.

“Pull him out, man. I know you’re fucking hard. We both are,” Dieter mumbled, after letting your puffy nipple out of his mouth with a pop.

Milk immediately trickled down the curve of your breast and Dieter rushed to scoop it up with his tongue, before latching onto the source of your creamy nectar again.

Marcus’s head was clouded with lust, it was difficult to think straight, and he let himself get swallowed by the depravity of the situation.

“Baby?” He croaked, questioning his next move, and when you nodded eagerly, his hands immediately began unbuckling his belt. He took his stiff cock out and started stroking it, watching the famous actor suck milk out of his wife’s tits.

Dieter felt himself on cloud nine. The taste of you was divine, your soft whimpers were getting louder and needier, and you kept squirming in your seat. Just a minute and you’d be inviting him to taste not only your titty juice but your pussy juices too.

The older man moaned when he saw Marcus’s gorgeous cock. It was not as big as his, less thick, but it looked like a good time and besides was very aesthetically pleasing.

Your faces were flushed, your pupils blown out to the max. You both were ready to take the plunge into the world of lustful ecstasy.

“Fuck, you two are so hot,” Dieter breathed out and then whispered into your ear, playing with your wet nipple, ”C’mon, baby, let me make you feel real good. I wanna celebrate your gorgeous body the right way.”

He offered you his huge hand and you took it before glancing at your husband.

“Marcus, you two won’t regret tonight. I promise you,” Dieter said to the younger man who visibly shuddered with desire.

The actor smirked and helped you up from the couch. Marcus got up too, his hand wrapped around his crying cock, stepped up to you and kissed your lips. His hands were holding your face gently, his member bobbing between your bodies. The kiss was passionate and soft, and Dieter smiled, witnessing your love and lust for each other, but soon his own desire overtook him.

“Get a room, lovebirds,” he chuckled. “And I know just the place.” You parted from each other and followed the actor to his bedroom.

The first thing Dieter did when you three stepped into his spacious bedroom was undress you. Slowly, taking his sweet time, showering you with praise, he freed your wonderful body from the confines of your clothes.

Marcus hastily discarded his own clothes, watching the older man take your dress off and then slide your panties down your legs.

Dieter brought your wet underwear to his nose and the scent of you sent shivers down his spine and electricity through his cock. He got naked fast and then, taken with admiration and lust for you, fell on his knees. He looked up at you with piety in his puppy eyes, gently placed his palms on your round belly and cooed, taking in your beautiful form.

“Fucking goddess! Look at her, man,” he turned to Marcus who was sitting naked on the edge of the huge bed, slowly stroking his shaft.

“We must cherish her,” Dieter gushed, caressing your belly and your hips, “You're a miracle, honey.”

“She really is,” Marcus smiled.

You looked shy, standing naked in front of the men, one of whom you had met that very day, but Dieter saw how much you enjoyed his praise- your eyes were sparkling and your wide smile was genuine.

“May I…?” Dieter reached up on his knees and kissed your belly, gliding his hands over the roundness of your body. He was leaving soft kisses over the stretched skin of your stomach and you were breathing faster and faster. Then his lips travelled south to your mound and he kissed it gently with his mouth open. You hand flew to his disheveled hair but not to stop him - you caressed his head instead and tilted your hips forward, silently asking for more.

Dieter didn’t need to be invited twice. He spread your folds with his fingers and leaned in to give your hardened clit a lick. You gasped at the sensation and your knees almost buckled. Marcus rushed to you immediately and wrapped his arm around your torso and under your arms. Like a devoted husband he let you use him for stability while the older man was eating you out.

Dieter pushed his tongue deeper, reached your crying hole with the tip of the hot muscle, then dragged it between your folds back to your clit. Your moans filled the room when he began sucking on your engorged clit just like he’d done with your leaky nipple minutes ago. He couldn’t dare to touch his cock, he was afraid to come too soon.

After a few minutes Dieter pulled away from your cunt and admired you two, standing before him— you, beautiful and soft, Marcus strong and muscular. Your husband’s cock was bobbing in front of the older man’s face, and Dieter tentatively put his hand on the man’s hip, silently asking if he could go further. Marcus locked eyes with him and Dieter got his answer.

He slowly took the man’s cock in his mouth, inch by inch, and heard you moan.

“Baby, that’s so hot,” you mumbled watching your husband getting blown by the actor. Dieter hated leaving you without attention so his thumb quickly found your clit, two of his fingers plunged into your hole, and he began fingering your soft pussy.

At that moment Dieter dreamed of two more hands and another mouth so he could pleasure you both at the same time, but alas, he had to alternate between licking your pussy and sucking your husband’s cock.

Marcus and you began kissing, swallowing each other’s pleasured whimpers, while Dieter was feasting on your cunt and his length. Soon you came, shaking against your husband’s body who was holding you tight, not letting you fall when the waves of euphoria were hitting you over and over.

Dieter was happy with his job for now. He sat on his heels, looking up at your satisfied smile and Marcus’s engorged cock. Your tits were leaking again and he missed having them in his mouth so he ordered,

“Bed you two. Now.”

There was no harshness in his voice. Just desire and admiration for the two people giving him the pleasure worthy of gods.

You were lying down on the bed, your back resting on a few pillows, Dieter by your side. Marcus took place between your legs, licking the mixture of your cum and Dieter’s saliva off your puffy folds.

The actor began drinking from your tit again but now he wanted more.

“Can I play with you a little, beautiful? I’ll be gentle,” he purred into your ear and you moaned a soft ‘yes’.

Dieter latched to your nipple, sucked out a mouthful of your creamy liquid and sat up. He leaned down and slowly poured your milk out of his mouth right on your blooming pussy. It hit your clit first and then slid down to your hole right into the mouth of your husband, whose tongue was thrusting in and out of you. Marcus hungrily licked it off and growled against your cunt.

“Baby?” You sounded nervous.

“More,” your husband replied and you giggled with relief.

Dieter repeated the action a few more times, letting Marcus slurp your milk off your glistening cunt. Playing with you like that, they made you come again and then one more time. Drunk on euphoria you began breathing heavily, your forehead was sweaty, your lips parted and gulping air.

“My love,” Marcus cooed at you, climbing up the bed to the other side of you. “You ok?”

“Yes,” you huffed with a smile. “Just tired.”

Dieter looked at you with his puppy eyes and asked,

“Wanna stop, baby?”

You looked at his fat cock, then at Marcus’s crying member and shook your head.

“No, I wanna make you two come.”

“Oh, honey,” Dieter muttered and kissed your cheek. “You’re an angel. We don’t deserve you.”

“Where do you want us?” Marcus asked softly, caressing your belly with his sweaty palm.

“Yours in my pussy. Dieter, can I suck you off?

It took everything from Dieter not to come right then and there.

The men took their positions fast, yet still moving very carefully around you. Marcus got settled on his knees between your legs and was gliding his hands up and down your thighs, waiting for you to be ready.

Dieter kneeled next to your shoulder, bringing his cock to your mouth as close as possible, caring for your comfort.

“I won’t go deep, beautiful. Just lick him a little and I’ll come. I can bust just looking at you.”

You nodded, smiling up at his handsome face.

Marcus started first. The cold wet tip of his cock nestled at your entrance and he started pushing it in. Your cum and his pre fuck juice made it easy for you to take his length and soon your husband was growling, seeing his cock plunged deep inside your pussy.

“Oh, baby,” you moaned, watching his member move in and out of you, your greedy cunt swallowing him whole again and again. You twisted your nipple and a jet of milk burst out of your tit and hit Marcus’s lower belly. It trickled down the man’s happy trail and Dieter whined,

“That’s the hottest shit I’ve seen. Baby, can I do it?“

“Yeah,” you mumbled, delirious with lust and pleasure.

Dieter took your nipple between his fingers and gently pulled on it. ”Fuck me,” he grunted, as he began spraying your milk everywhere— Marcus’s chest, his stomach, your big belly, your glistening pussy. For some time you were mesmerized watching the sweet juice of your tits slide down your husband’s abs and then reach the place where the two of you were joined.

“Hnggg,” Dieter growled, “some extra lube for you two. Fuck this milk deep into her pussy, Marcus. Make her sweet all over.”

You were moaning loudly, drowning the lewd squelching sounds of your husband’s cock churning milk inside your cunt.

You needed to ground yourself or you’d die of immense pleasure, so you turned to Dieter who was still playing with your milky breasts and took the fat head of his cock into your mouth.

The actor made the neediest sound and bent over as if you hit him in the stomach.

“Your mouth, baby, it's heaven,” he moaned through heavy breaths and then roared, dropping his head back in ecstasy.

“Fuck— gonna come.“

A rope of his seed hit the back of your mouth and you took him deeper, breathing through your nose, letting the older man spill his cum inside your mouth and down your throat.

Marcus followed him immediately and his cock started filling you full of his hot sperm, adding even more wetness to your core. The men used both of your holes to discard their fat loads and you happily swallowed Dieter’s seed with your mouth and Marcus’s with your pussy.

When their balls were drained, they plopped on the bed on the both sides of you, panting and chuckling from time to time.

“‘s was fucking incredible,” Dieter breathed out, turning on his side, and looked at you with gratitude.

“Can I kiss your wife, Marcus?” He asked, lifting himself on one elbow.

“If she wants it.”

Marcus gave you both a tired smile.

Dieter looked deep into your eyes, leaned closer and your sparkling eyes screamed ‘yes’.

He finally kissed you. His lips were slowly caressing yours, your tongues tangled, his hand was rubbing your round belly, yours was cupping his scruffy cheek.

When you parted from him, Marcus seized your chin and turned your head to him. Your lips met and as Dieter watched your husband lick into your mouth, a satisfied smile spread across his face.

“That app is the shit,” he muttered. ”We matched perfectly.”

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic!

Also check out my favorite milky stories. They’re amazing! Leave some love to the authors if you enjoy their work.

Liquid Gold (Joel, Tommy) by @gasolinerainbowpuddles

Mother who provides (Joel) by @pedge-page

While the baby sleeps (Ezra) by @mothandpidgeon

MASTERLIST

Tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk @pascaltesaye @fruityreads @itwasntimethatdidit40

Tagging some friends who might be interested. No pressure to read, loves<3 @604to647 @myownwholewildworld @bonezone44 @toxicanonymity @tateypots @sp00kymulderr

#pedro pascal characters #dieter bravo #tbr #special guest #threesome #m/m #dieter fic #perfect match fic #oneshot

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mysterious-musings-chaos-corner · 16 days ago

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THE DEVIL IN ME MASTERLIST

Pairing: Devil!Dieter Bravo x actress!reader

Genre: smut, romance, angst, secret relationship

Series summary: Being an aspiring actress but failing to succeed, you sell your soul to the handsome Devil in exchange for stardom. You spend a passionate night together and start enjoying each other’s company more and more. Mutual desire blooms into a rollercoaster relationship with jealousy, possessiveness, drama, and a pinch of vampirism😈

Warnings are given before every individual part

Main story

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Extra

One Hell of a Ride

Apology

Previews pt 2 | pt 3 | extra

#pedro pascal characters #dieter bravo #multi chapter #tbr #supernatural #angst #secret relationship #dieter fic #complete #the devil in me fic

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mysterious-musings-chaos-corner · 16 days ago

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Unexpected Delivery {Dieter Bravo x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 24k

Warnings: Drug use, Dieter being Dieter, flirting, propositions, casual sex, face sitting, dirty talk, slightly subby Dieter, cock riding, pouting, drinking, eating, watching porn, oral sex (male receiving), secret FWBs, pregnancy, snacks, foot rubs and Oreos, labor, giving birth

Comments: Dropping off papers at Dieter Bravos' house turns into casual sex. Then it turns into something much more.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Dieter Bravo MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Take these to this address.” The stabbing finger pointing at the address written in a sticky note is uncalled for, but you also know that there are a lot of moving parts on a busy production so it’s almost expected for the producers to be blunt and slightly condescending towards the PAs. You nod. “Dieter fired his assistant again, or she quit, who the fuck knows? But take these pages to him and remind him that his call time is at nine tomorrow morning, okay?” Brian finally looks up at you from his phone and seems a little doubtful about his plan now. “Can you do that? Or should I send someone else?”

You are holding Dieter Bravos pages and address in your hand. Something that could be sold or leaked to the tabloids but you would never do that. You love your job on this movie and would like nothing more than to work your way up in the industry. Being trusted with important information and tasks is critical. “No, I’ve got this. Deliver these to Mr. Bravo and remind him about his nine A.M. call time.” You repeat back. He nods and looks down at his phone. “Good luck.” He huffs, aware that Dieter might be high as a kite right now since he’s not working amid the script revisions. The man likes to party in his down time.

The doorbell rings and Dieter groans, grunting a protest. “Go away.” He grumbles and the ringing continues. “Go away!” He shouts and growls when the ringing is incessant. He flings the covers off his body and hisses as he stands. He is a little dizzy but he wraps his robe around his naked body and trudges through the house. Where’s his fucking assistant? Oh yeah, he fired her when she wouldn’t get Taco Bell at 3am for him. “Fuck.” He winces, rubbing his head, and he swings the front door open. “You’re going to break my freaking doorbell.” He whines and then his eyes widen when he sees you. “Goddamn. I didn’t order a hooker, did I?” He frowns, trying to remember and your eyes widen. “A hook- are you high?” You exclaim and he scratches his head, “uh, duh.” You scoff, “I’m here to give you the pages and remind you that you have a 9 A.M. call time tomorrow.”

Wincing at how bright the outside light is, Dieter squints and grunts, realizing that you must be a PA from the movie. “Come in.” He grumbles, turning around and leaving the door open to wander towards the kitchen or bar, whichever he reaches first. “Fuck. Why do they have you working so early?” He demands and you snort as you step inside his house and close the door behind you. “It’s one in the afternoon.” You point out, craning your neck as you scope out the inside of the Oscar winner’s house. Just because you would never sell his information doesn’t mean you aren’t the least bit curious about how he lives. There has to be more to him than the crazy public antics and wild rumors. “How is that early?”

Dieter stops what he is doing and stares at you in shock. "That's practically the middle of the night for me." He argues and you want to roll your eyes but you control yourself. "I need you to sign for the papers. Studio rules." You remind him and he fumbles with a box of cereal. "You're not leaving yet." He states and you frown, "I have things to do Mr. Bravo-" "Dieter." He corrects you, noticing how pretty you are and this time you can't help but roll your eyes. "Dieter. I am a busy woman and-" He cuts you off again, "stay for breakfast. Brunch...Linner?" He tests out and shakes his head, "stay for a bit. I am boredddd." He huffs, reaching into the box to grab a handful of cereal and you shake your head. "I really can't." He pouts, "then I'm not signing the papers." You stare at him, knowing you need that signature otherwise you will be in serious trouble. "Fine. Fine. I'll have some cereal." Dieter beams and holds the box out towards you. "In a bowl." You add, watching him chew the Captain Crunch.

There’s an odd mixture of triumph and disgruntlement in his expression. Happy you had caved and were staying and slightly annoyed that he was going to have to produce a bowl. He looks around the kitchen as if unsure where to get one.

“Oh my God, you really are a giant baby.” You snort, rolling your eyes and walking around the counter to start opening cabinets yourself to find the bowls. “Those rumors are true.”

Dieter pouts, “I’m not a baby. I’m an artist. An Oscar winner. I don’t take care of stupid things like bowls and spoons.” He says as you find a bowl in the cupboard. One that he hasn’t opened in…well, ever. “You need to be an adult as well as an artist.” Dieter huffs, pouring cereal into your bowl. “I don’t think I have milk. Maybe.” He tilts his head as if he’s trying to remember.

You shake your head as you move over to the sleek, industrial refrigerator and open it up. You know that it’s bad manners, but you were coerced into staying, and you doubt that Dieter would think to look. Inside is actually well stocked, obviously pre-prepared meals in portion controlled containers are all meticulously labeled and you wonder if he has a chef. “Here it is.” You grab the carton of lactose free milk and then two bottles of water.

Dieter had forgotten that his assistant stocks his fridge. He usually orders uber eats when he’s high. Which is often. So the food in the fridge is usually eaten by his assistant so it doesn’t go to waste. “Huh…I didn’t know that was in there.” He confesses, tilting his head.

“That’s fine. Captain Crunch is better with milk.” You tell him, twisting off the cap and pouring some into your bowl. “Sweetens the cereal up.”

He watches you pour the milk over the cereal and he agrees it’s better. He reaches for his own bowl, pouring some cereal and then the milk into it. His groan echoes when he takes a spoonful, the cereal not as dry. “Fuck. Who knew milk would make it taste so much better?”

“Everyone who eats cereal like a normal human being.” You answer dryly, grinning when he shoots you a wounded pout. He’s funny, even though he’s not trying to be and despite being disheveled and obviously hung over, he’s even more attractive in person.

Dieter likes your banter and he leans against the counter, watching you eat your cereal while he chews his own. “Anyone ever told you you look fucking hot eating cereal?” He asks, tilting his head after he swallows his bite.

You nearly choke on your bite, almost snorting the milk on your nose. You’ve heard Dieter is an outrageous flirt and now you are learning that firsthand. “All the time.” You quip. “Eating cereal leads to blowjobs after all.”

Dieter’s eyes widen, unable to believe that worked. “Really?” He asks and reaches for the box, walking over to pour more cereal in your bowl. “Eat up baby.” He winks, “because you look hot as shit right now.”

You laugh, thinking that he’s joking along with you. Smirking slightly because even if he’s playing, it’s not every day you have a hot actor complimenting you. “So what do you do after you eat your cereal?” You ask curiously.

“Jerk off. Smoke some weed. Think a little before it gets too hard and then I take a nap.” He says with slightly narrowed eyes as he watches you. “What about you? What’s your day like?” He asks before he takes a bite of his cereal.

“Depends.” You shrug slightly and set your bowl down. “I basically do whatever production tells me to. Sometimes it’s delivering pages to spoiled stars.” You wink at him playfully. “Other times it’s running ten million errands and helping on set wherever needed.”

Dieter smirks, “I haven’t seen you around on set. You must be kept busy away from me and my trailer.” He leans against the counter, “because I’d definitely remember if your ass walked past me.” He takes another bite of cereal.

“Probably.” You admit with a grin. “There’s plenty of rumors and gossip about you running around. The producer is a friend. Probably thinking to spare me from your evil ways.”

Dieter chuckles and shakes his head, “I have no evil ways unless you count making you shake from the best damn orgasm you’ve ever had.” He waggles his eyebrows, “but you’d just have to take my word for it unless you want to find out where my bedroom is.”

“Does that work?” You ask, biting your lip to keep from grinning. There’s something about his cock assuredness that is kind of sexy. In a messy kind of way. “Just asking people to fuck you?”

Dieter frowns for a second before he nods, “uhhh yeah.” He answers like you’re insane for even asking. He pauses for a moment, watching you, and he tilts his head, “why? Did it not work?”

Part of you just wants to say it didn’t work to fuck with him. But when you would you get the chance to say you fucked Dieter Bravo? “It worked.” You admit with a shrug of your shoulders and you laugh. “I was just asking.”

Dieter’s eyes widen like a cartoon character. He can’t believe that actually worked. Usually he gets a slap. He smirks when he regains his composure, “so…you wanna sit on my face?” He asks, biting his lip.

You hadn’t expected that offer, your brow winging up dramatically and you snort. “Fuck yeah, I do.” You huff. “What kind of idiot do you think I am? I get to sit on a gorgeous actor's face and let him make me cum?”

Dieter grins, excited and his cock is hardening under his robe. “Hell yeah, baby. Fuck, you’re so pretty. Can I kiss you?” He asks and you nod. He wastes no time surging forward to cup your cheek, tilting your head so he can press his lips to yours.

He’s surprisingly needy. The urgency in his lips is one born of the desire to be needed, to be wanted. He presses close to you like he wants to crawl into your skin. Instead of letting yourself be overwhelmed by it, you wrap your arms around him and drag him closer.

He loves how you drag him closer, his cock hardening under his robe, and his hand immediately finds your waist. He presses you into the counter as his tongue slides into your mouth, wanting to consume you and forget about the turmoil in his head.

You let him take from you. Letting him guide you back into the counter, giggling when your lower back hits it. Stopping him from moving you but he still presses into you. His tongue caresses yours and he groans into your mouth.

He kisses you for several moments, in no rush, and your mouth is sweet from the cereal. He needs to see you naked and he is impatient so he reaches for the hem of your shirt, pulling back from the kiss so he can pull it over your head. “Goddamn.” He murmurs, cupping your tits and squeezing them together to bury his face in the flesh.

You can’t help but giggle, enjoying the way he is so enthusiastic about your tits. Running your fingers through his hair as he starts to motorboat you happily. “Okay big boy, show me your bedroom and I’ll let you touch them without the bra on.” You encourage.

“Fuck yes.” He growls happily, taking your hand, and he guides you through his Sherman Oaks mansion to his bedroom. He groans your name when you are in the room and you unclip your bra to let it drop to his floor. He surges forward, cupping your breast to tilt it so he can take your nipple into his mouth.

“Oh fuck.” You moan at the intensity of his mouth, pulling at your breast as his hand squeeze and push them together again. You know the large and messy bed is behind you, so you start to guide him back.

He shuffles forward, his hands squeezing your breasts and when you fall back on his bed, he is working on undoing the knot of his robe. He decides to make a show of it and he flings his robe open, displaying his hard cock and soft belly. “Well?” He asks, waggling his eyebrows and he sways his hips so his cock moves. You stare at him for a moment before you burst out laughing. Dieter frowns, watching you laugh, and he looks down at his cock. “I’ve never had anyone laugh at my dick before.”

You cover your mouth to stifle your laugh, seeing the way his face falls and he pouts. The man is literally poking his lip out as he looks down at his admittedly impressive cock. “Oh I’m not laughing at your dick.” You manage after a moment, pulling your hand away from your mouth and looking contrite. “I’m laughing because it’s been so long that a man has been so eager to fuck me that he’s helicoptered his dick.”

Dieter stares at you for a moment, absorbing your words, and when your tits jiggle as you shift onto your elbows, he dramatically lets the robe drop to the floor and he flops onto the bed beside you. “Take your pants off and take a seat, big boy wants to taste that pretty pussy.” He orders as he smacks his lips.

Big boy. Your eyes widen in amusement and you wrap your hand around his cock, groaning when you feel how thick he is. “Yes sir.” You tease before you let him go and climb off the bed to strip off.

He watches you pull your jeans off and he squeezes his cock as you drag your panties down. He licks his lips, watching you kneel on the bed and you shuffle over to him. “Come take your throne.” He smirks, patting his lips after he releases his cock.

“Are you always this cocky?” You ask and Dieter smirks and winks at you before he crooks his finger at you to beckon you to him. “Don’t keep me waiting, baby.” He pouts and you bite your lip. You haven’t waxed but you’ve kept your hair neatly trimmed, so hopefully he’s not too picky.

“Goddamn. Look at that pussy.” He murmurs in awe as you settle over his face, and he fucking loves it. He inhales your scent for a moment until his tongue slides through your folds.

You shiver and moan softly, loving how he tastes you. His tongue is eager, just like everything else with Dieter. Although you can tell that he's not rushing through this to move on to sex. You lean back and start to roll your hips over his mouth and groan his name. "Dieter."

He loves how you groan his name. He’s obsessed with how you taste. He loves eating pussy and yours is no exception. He flicks the tip of his tongue over your clit, smirking against your folds when you gasp, and he sucks on your bundle of nerves.

"Oh fuck." Your head tilts back and you reach for the headboard of his very large and lavish oversized king bed. "Oh fuck baby, you wanted to eat pussy, didn't you?" You moan, your other hand reaching down and tangling into his hair.

“That’s what I really wanted for breakfast.” He confesses against your folds, his hands squeezing your ass before he laps at your folds and pushes his tongue into your fluttering hole.

"Yes, fuck Dieter." You whine, circling your hips slowly and letting him work his tongue deeper into your pussy. "You are good at it, you could do this all day if you want. I'd let you."

He groans, squeezing your ass as he groans into your cunt. You are smothering him as you relax and he fucking loves it. His cock twitches against his stomach as you rock your hips, working his tongue deeper into your pussy.

You would think that you are in a fevered dream if it wasn’t for the grip on your hips. He holds you like you might pull away and he is desperate to keep you close. His fingers dig into your skin and bite to bring some pain with pleasure.

The room is full of your moans and whimpers complimented by the slurps and lapping of his tongue. Your weight settles on top of him and he loves it. You grind onto his tongue and he widens his jaw, lapping at your folds and flicking your clit.

“Goddamn.” You whine, letting go of his hair to cup your own tit. “You would die happy right now, wouldn’t you? Eating my pussy. You’re such a good boy.”

He has such a visceral reaction to that phrase. His cock twitches, lifting off his belly, and his whine vibrates through your body as he laps at you like a man starved.

“Ohhhhh you like that, don’t you?” You coo, delighted to have discovered something that riles him up. “Such a good boy, eating my pussy.” He groans again, his fingers digging into your hips harder as he devours you. “My good boy is a whore for praise? Or are you submissive?”

He manages to pull back from your pussy for a moment, “both. Fuck. Both.” He answers, loving how you coo your praise. It has his heart pounding and his cock throbbing as pre-cum pools on his belly.

“Hmmmm,” you smirk as you feel him dive back into your cunt. “Fuck, your tongue is so deep inside me. You’re trying to lick my throat through my pussy.” You pinch your nipple and grind onto his face. So close to cumming from the way he continuously laps at you.

He loves the praise. Fucking adores it. He doesn’t get it often. Sure he gets adoration from fans and from work but not this kind. It’s pure and unfiltered and genuine. It makes his stomach clench with need and his desire to make you cum is amped up so he sucks on your clit.

“Fuck, fuck.” You gasp, eyes widening when he doubles down on how vigorously he is eating you out. Face first and devouring your cunt like it’s the last thing he’s going to do when he sucks your clit into his mouth. “Oh fuck, I’m going to cum.” That familiar pull in your stomach tells you that you are about to come apart. Thighs tensing as he groans and sucks harder, making you cry out, “Dee- Dieter! Fuck!”

Your cry almost makes him cum but he focuses on working you through it. Lapping at your creamy cum as you grind onto his face. His grip loosens as he caresses your hips while you pant, working through the pleasure until your thighs relax around his head.

Shifting off of him, you collapse down beside him and immediately press your lips to his. You don’t care about your taste in his mouth as you reach down and wrap your fingers around his cock.

He whines into your mouth, his hand covering yours on his cock so he can show you how he likes it. When you squeeze him just right he groans and shifts his hand to your hip while he kisses along your jaw.

“Do you want to be on top?” You ask breathlessly as you start to pump his cock. “Or do you want me to ride this too?”

“Fuck.” He pants, lost in the sensation of your hand on his cock. “What- whatever you want. Just - shit - wanna feel that pussy.” He pleads, sounding pathetic even to his own ears.

It’s amazing that you can make this man beg. You’ve seen him flirt outrageously with people on the red carpet, men and women alike. Charm the pants off of them in interviews. He actually left a red carpet event once to go make out with someone at a premier. Now he is begging for you. For you to fuck him. You smirk and nip his bottom lip before you kiss his soft stomach and then take the head of his cock into your mouth for a quick taste.

His whine is pathetic and he groans as you take his cock into your mouth. It’s hot and wet and exactly what he needs but not what he wants. “Fuck baby. Wanna be inside you.” He pleads, cock twitching in your mouth.

The man is turning down a blow job. You hum as you pull off his cock with a wet pop and straddle his thighs. Lifting your weight up to your arms to drag your breasts across his skin as you crawl over his lap and then grind down against the underside of his cock. You feel powerful right now, having him completely at your mercy as he whimpers, grinding up against your wet folds. “You want to be inside me?” He whines, nodding eagerly and you smirk as you rock your hips forward, teasing him as you wait for the head of his cock to catch at your entrance.

When you finally take him into your dripping pussy, he groans and squeezes his eyes shut. Breathing deep to not cum right away. He hasn’t had a pussy this tight and wet in a while and it’s blowing his mind. He grips the sheets, trying to think of something, anything, to stop him blowing his load too soon.

He looks completely wrecked. You clench around you and swear that you see sweat pop out on his brow as he clinches his eyes together so tight you would think that he’s in pain. “Fuck you’re so thick.” You moan happily, circling your hips. “Fill me up so good.”

He’s lost to the sensation of you as you squeeze him and he chokes when you start to move on top of him. Grinding down onto his dick, he moans your name and his hands snake up to squeeze your tits. “You’re definitely a tit man.” You giggle and he nods, “yes. Fuck. Just wanna-” He lifts himself so he can take your nipple into his mouth.

Now it’s your turn to moan. Loving how he is so aggressive, like he’s trying to suckle. You tilt your head back as you bounce on his thick cock. Feeling how deep he punches every time you rock back. “Fuck, baby, suck harder.” You encourage, loving when someone plays with your tits.

He squeezes your breast, sucking and biting on your nipple. He loves receiving orders and he eagerly follows them, sucking and biting, alternating between nipples. “You’re so fucking hot.” He murmurs as he buries his face between your tits when he pushes them together.

You moan in appreciation, running your fingers through his hair and tugging on it to see how he likes it. “Good boy, fuck, you’re doing so good. You’re gonna make me cum on your fat dick, aren’t you?”

He whimpers into your flesh and you pull his head back, “need an answer.” He chokes, twitching violently inside you, “yes. Fuck. Need - need to feel it. Please. Cum for me. Tell me what I can do.” He begs, thrusting up into you.

You hum, eyes closing as he rocks up into you and adds the extra pressure you need. “Rub my clit while you suck on my tits.” You order, swiveling your hips and bouncing a little faster. “You can’t cum until I cream all over your cock.”

He knows it’s going to be hard to hold off when you feel so fucking good and look like an angel above him. He nods frantically, his fingers finding your clit, and he resumes sucking on your nipple while he thrusts up into you. He’s not a selfish lover. He loves watching a woman cum. “Please.” He begs against your nipple, needing to feel you clamp down on his cock so he can find his own high.

You can feel how close he is. His thrusts get desperate and sharp as he snaps his hips up. His fingers are perfect on your clit and your tits bounce in his face as you ride him towards your own orgasm. “Fuck, Dee, Fuck, Dee!” You squeal, hips jerking the next time you rock back on him and your walls lock down around him. Shaking as your body lights up with pleasure.

He watches you as you fall apart on top of him, and it immediately pushes him over the edge. His stamina is completely out the window, and he growls deep in his chest as his cock twitches inside you and then he pulses as he starts to paint your walls with his hot seed. “Jesus fucking Christ.” He hisses as he tenses beneath you.

You collapse against his chest, panting as you close your eyes. “Fuck.” You whisper to yourself, giggling quietly because you never expected this to happen.

He squeezes his eyes shut, letting the feeling of total relaxation wash over him. He groans your name and caresses your back, breathing you in. “Best fucking assistant ever.” He murmurs, kissing your shoulder.

You hum, almost pointing out that you aren’t his assistant, but you don’t. Shifting up, you pull off his cock and settle down beside him. “Fuck, now I need a beer, or a cigarette.” You snort.

Dieter smirks and leans in to kiss your cheek. “I’ll definitely sign the paper now.” He promises and pulls you into his side, “and there’s beer in the fridge, cigarettes and weed already rolled in the nightstand.”

You laugh at how he is being such a good host now and pat his chest. “I can’t stay.” You admit. “I still have to go run other errands and work while you need to learn your new lines. I think that if we stay in bed and smoke weed, neither of those things will happen.”

Dieter pouts, “I don’t want you to go.” It’s true. He’s getting lonely. Insanely lonely. He likes you and he doesn’t want to be left alone with his thoughts when he’s sober. “I’ll learn the lines.” He promises, “but…can we do this again?” He asks, tilting his head.

You know Brian would have a heart attack if he knew you slept with Dieter but you also know he would have a heart attack if his Oscar winning star didn’t learn his lines. “Tell you what. You learn your lines, I’ll go finish up my day and then I’ll come back and we can go through your fridge and eat something other than cereal.” You propose. “Sound good?”

Dieter nods, still pouting a little, but he knows he can't be selfish right now. "Fineeee." He whines dramatically, and he cups your cheek so he can kiss you. It's deep and desperate, making his spent cock twitch, until you push on his chest and lean back. "I really have to go." You promise and Dieter sighs, "shower first?" He asks and you nod. You shuffle off his bed and begin to make your way to his en-suite and he eagerly gets up, following you, until you pull the doors closed. Before you fully close them, you say "alone." He pouts but steps back when the doors are shut, flopping down on the bed, and he knows this is the start of something exciting.

****

It’s taken you a few hours, once leaving Dieter’s house after promising multiple times that you are coming back. Finally done with your work and ready to relax. Some of the other PAs had invited you out for a drink, but you had turned them down, claiming you were tired. Knowing that Dieter might have forgotten about you coming over, but you promised that you would come back so you get out of your car and walk up to his door, ringing the bell again.

Dieter practically runs to the door. He opens it, chest heaving, but he leans against the door frame trying to act like he wasn’t waiting for you. “Oh you’re back.” He says with a smirk despite his thumping heart. He’s been waiting all day for you. Learning his lines didn’t take too long and he didn’t even get high, wanting to be alert for your arrival.

You chuckle at the way that he leans against the door, almost out of breath from how fast he answered it. You wonder if he had been checking out the window every few minutes. “I can leave if you’ve changed your mind?” You offer, knowing that he would say no.

He shakes his head comically hard. “No. No. I- I don’t want you to - come in.” He swings the door wide open, ushering you in. He’s showered and he’s wearing his robe again but with boxers on underneath this time. “Come in.” He orders again, a slight whine in his tone.

This time you smirk as you walk into the house. “Nice change of clothes.” You tease, being a little cheekier than you might have been if you hadn’t watched this man cum inside you earlier today. “Did you eat after I left?” You ask, dropping your bag and keys on a very expensive looking entryway table.

He nods, “just snacks. I didn’t want the food prepared for me. It’s too fucking healthy. Who the hell eats kale?” He asks, wrinkling his nose. “Have you eaten? We can order pizza.”

“Kale can be good.” You snort when he looks doubtful and you shake your head. “Come on. You look like you have a lot of good things in your fridge already.” You urge, grabbing his hand. You can tell this man is practically helpless. “We’ll drink some wine while we investigate and if I don’t find anything I like, we’ll order pizza.”

He enjoys the feel of your hand in his and he squeezes it, letting you guide him into his kitchen. “I have tons of wine. Expensive shit too. Always get bottles from execs and award shows. Got a bottle of something that was like $2000. I never drink them.” He confesses, “but you pick whatever you want. I’ll drink anything.”

You huff and shrug. “I don’t really care. I’m happy with an $8 bottle of wine from Costco.” You admit. “But we will find something.” You let go of his hand and he slides onto a barstool to watch you poke around his kitchen like you own the place. “You like red or white best?” You ask and he snorts. “Whatever gets me drunk.” He admits and you chuckle. “Alcohol it is.”

He watches you walk around his kitchen and it’s like you’re meant to be there. It’s easy and he feels like he can breathe, not smothered by his anxiety as you explore his wine collection. When you settle on a bottle, you don’t even ask where the wine opener is. You just find it and open the bottle. He loves that. When you hand him a glass, he holds it up. “To your fantastic tits and my thick cock.” He toasts with a waggle of his eyebrows.

You laugh and nod as you clink your glass against his and take a sip. “Oh that’s good.” You coo appreciated. “Although we will have to get my cheap wine to compare it.” You know that nothing might ever happen after tonight, but it’s the thought. You take another sip and set down the glass to open his fridge. “Okay, let’s see what we have to eat.” You hum to yourself as you start pulling out containers.

He watches you, taking a sip of his wine, and he rests his chin in his hand as his eyes dip down to your ass as you lean into his fridge. You don’t question his chaos, you just go along with it and he hasn’t met someone who understands him as quickly as you have since his mom died ten years ago.

“Oh, you have some great meals in here.” You hum. “I bet you would eat the kale mixed with the hummus.” You poke around again and nod. “Yep. We aren’t ordering pizza.” You tell him as you start looking for his pans to reimagine the meals that have been left.

He picks up his glass of wine, amused by your excitement for what is in the fridge, and he’s happy to watch. “You make whatever you want. I’m not allergic to anything.” He promises, watching you coo over the expensive pans he has in the drawers that he’s never used.

It’s a dream to cook in this kitchen. He has every gadget you could want, all top of the line. “Do you have a private chef or something?” You ask, wondering if someone is going to get upset about you using this stuff. Not that you care, you are obviously allowed as dieter watches.

He shakes his head, “nope.” He pops the ‘p’. I get given shit for PR or nomination gift bags at like the Oscars and Golden Globes. I give most of it away because I don’t need all that shit. My manager makes sure I keep the good shit.”

“Very nice.” You hum as you start to poke through the cabinets for his pantry and hit the jackpot. “Someone liked to cook.” You comment and Dieter snorts. “My assistant - former assistant.” He corrects. “She cooked shit I didn’t like and then got mad when I wanted her to go get me food.” You roll your eyes and look over at him. “Well, you’ll eat what I make and you'll love it.” You predict. “Good boys who eat their dinner gets treats.” You tease with a wink.

Dieter smirks, “well she didn’t offer dessert. Just vegan health food that tasted like shit.” He chuckles and you giggle, “good boys get dessert.” You promise and his cock twitches, “fuck. How the hell did I get lucky enough for you to be on my doorstep?” He asks himself, watching you move in the kitchen.

“Brian knew that I wouldn’t put up with your shit if I didn’t want to.” You answer honestly and look up to shoot him a grin. “Lucky for you, you’re cute when you’re whiny and I like when a man begs.” You tease. “Plus the cock is pretty impressive.”

Dieter blushes, ducking his head towards his wine glass. He’s used to compliments but most of them are ass kissing to get something from him. Yours is genuine and has his stomach twisting. “You’re not too bad yourself, sugar tits.” He winks, sipping his wine.

You dump the chickpeas into a food processor with the kale, add some extra olive oil and the only thing you wish you had was some tahini but it will be alright without it. The chickpeas are already flavored with garlic and what looks like red pepper. A nice hummus will go well with the other foods and it will be good for him. He winces when you turn it on, making note that he doesn’t like loud noises. “Sorry. Just be second.” You promise.

He focuses on watching you, unable to fathom how you’ve taken his attention so intently when usually he struggles to even learn lines. His agent when he got started told him his ADHD would ruin his career but he worked hard and now he’s a goddamn Oscar winner. “You look like you cook a lot.” He observes, curious and wanting to know more about you.

“Have to eat.” You check the hummus, opening up the processor and dipping your finger in and humming when you try it. “That’s good.” He lifts a brow but you just keep on talking. “L.A. is expensive and I like good food, so I eat at home. Plus I can cook whenever because my schedule is crazy at times. You know. Your schedule is even worse when you’re on set.”

Dieter nods, “yeah. Crazy as shit. Usually I’ll order take out and have my assistant pick it up.” He sighs, “it gets lonely. L.A. Don’t you miss your hometown?”

“Yeah, but my job is here. I’ve made friends here.” You tell him, spooning the hummus into a bowl, you slide it and some raw broccoli over towards him. “Eat.” You order as you move on to the next dish. “It will help you shit.”

He snorts, "good to be regular." He smirks and wrinkles his nose at the broccoli. "Try it." You demand and he can't deny you. Scooping some hummus onto the broccoli, he takes a bite and he groans at the taste of the hummus. "Goddamn. How did you do that? You're some kind of kitchen witch."

“That’s me.” He laughs as he eagerly reaches for another broccoli stalk. “Glenda, the good kitchen witch.” You open up another container that is labeled tofu and smirk. “She wasn’t sharing the good stuff with you.” You tell him, turning the container around to show him a beautifully seasoned mahi steak.

His eyes widen in shock, "damn. I didn't know that was in there." He confesses, "what you gonna do with it?" He asks before popping the broccoli into his mouth after double dipping. You raise your eyebrows at the double dipping but he smirks, "too damn good" is his excuse and you wink, setting the container down on the counter.

“You have a couscous salad in there so I’m going to thinly slice this mahi and serve it over the salad and make a sauce.” You decide before you turn back to the fridge. “It will be delicious.”

"Where have you been my whole life?" Dieter asks, a dreamy look in his eyes, and he chomps on the broccoli. "You are my fucking angel with a pussy like the devil." He teases, licking his lips.

You just laugh as you start to pull out things to mix together for a sauce. “Still thinking about that?” You smirk as you look at him. “Figured you would have already jerked off by now.”

Dieter shrugs, "jerking off is boring when you do it too much." He confesses and you snort, "I am sure you have plenty of people who would suck your cock." Dieter scoffs, "that gets boring too. People who want you for what you can give them...not for you." He confesses, "sometimes, you just want realness."

“I hate people like that.” You admit. “This town is full of them. It’s amazing to watch people kiss a celebrity’s ass just because they are in movies. Or the fucking people who manage to be famous for being famous.” You shake your head. “I don’t do that. I’ll be polite if my job needs me to be, but I’m not kissing someone’s ass because they make more money than me.”

Dieter snorts, “that’s Hollywood baby. Or Hollyweird as I like to call it. Bullshit and fake people are the industry. So much shit has happened here. At least I never slept my way up but I know people who have. I love sex but never wanted to be where I am because I sucked a dick. I’m a fucking Oscar winner because I am damn good at what I do. And I want someone who wants me for me. Not what I can give them.”

“That’s a good attitude to have.” You agree as you set the salad heat up in the microwave and move to start slicing the mahi. “Don’t settle. Those PR relationships are horrible.”

Dieter snorts, “don’t I know it? I once had to date this new on the scene model and she - fuck - she looked at herself in the cutlery and completely ignored the waiter. Made me order for her but then complained she didn’t want steak and only wanted the kale Caesar salad with no dressing. Who the fuck doesn’t have dressing? It’s just kale then. And you know my thoughts on kale.”

“Hate it.” You hum with a smirk.” Unless it’s in hummus.” He chuckles and you continue to work to make dinner for the both of you, finding it oddly relaxing. Sipping your wine, you find him watching you again. “So are you excited for this role?”

He nods, eyes lighting up, “yeah. I mean, it’s gotta be a shoe in for an Oscar, right? It’s fucking Ridley Scott. He’s a genius and I can’t wait to get stuck into the character. He’s torn on protecting his family and fighting for what’s right. I love it. I haven’t been this excited for a role since Hunger Strike.” He says with honesty.

“That’s great.” You agree. “I like the script changes, most of the time I hate them, but this is actually pretty good.” You wonder if already winning an Oscar made things more difficult or easier on him. Somehow you think it’s the former, but you don’t ask, sure that he gets that question a lot.

Dieter watches you as you finish plating up the meal and he groans when you set it down in front of him on the countertop. "Fuck. How did you do this?" He asks, admiring the dish as you come to sit beside him on the next stool.

“Looked in your fridge.” You joke, leaning over and nudging his shoulder playfully. “You didn’t like what you had, so I just reinvented it.”

Dieter eagerly finishes the meal. He doesn't usually eat a whole meal unless he's high so to have cleaned the plate is the biggest compliment he could give you. "That was - when can you move in?" He teases, winking at you.

You snort a laugh and look around his house. “Can’t afford it.” You joke in return. “Besides, I see you waking me up at 2am for tacos and I’m grumpy in the middle of the night.”

"Yeah but I could cheer you up by making you cum on my tongue." He offers, "which I assume would make you happier to be in my house." He smirks, "and in my bed."

“You just randomly ask women - or men - to move in?” You ask, completely amused by the conversation. He is definitely a free spirit and you can see why the production worried about bringing him on.

He shrugs, “it’s get lonely. This place is huge. I don’t even care if you pay rent as long as you pay attention to me.” He confesses and you snort, “well, maybe when my lease ends.” You offer playfully and he smirks, “I’ll hold you to it as long as you let me taste that pretty pussy again. I want my dessert.”

“You can taste that whenever you want.” You promise but you hold up a finger. “Except on set.” You tell him. “No one can know that we are having sex. I don’t want the rumor mill going crazy about how I got my job and you don’t need to be seen as fucking the staff.”

He nods, understanding that even if he did imagine fucking you in his trailer. “Fine.” He pouts playfully, “nothing on set.” It’s weird that you want to keep him a secret when he’s so used to doing that to others, making sure no one knew who he was dating to avoid commitment or paps.

You can tell that he’s unhappy with the idea, but you have built a reputation based on your work ethic, not who you sleep with. “Good.” You reach out and caress his thigh. “Now after I clean up the kitchen, what do you want to do?”

Dieter loves how you touch him and his cock twitches under his boxers. “You wanna watch a movie?” He asks, “I have a whole collection and a theater with big seats. Like the real deal. Best part of the house.”

“A movie theatre?” You’re impressed. “I bet you get high and watch movies all the time, don’t you?” You ask and he nods eagerly. “I’ve got whatever you want. You want some coke? Some Molly?” You shake your head. “No, but don’t let me stop you from having a good time, I don’t do any of that.”

Dieter nods in understanding, “whatever floats your boat.” He won’t either if you don’t like it. “I won’t, I won’t get high. I don’t like having sex high while the other person is sober.” He confesses, “how about we open another bottle of wine? I have a great vintage Chardonnay and I have a popcorn machine.” He offers, not wanting you to leave just yet.

“Wine and popcorn?” You smirk. “You know the way to a girl’s heart. Let’s do it.” You stand up and reach for his plate to load it into the dishwasher. Sure that Dieter isn’t the one cleaning up after himself. “We still have some hummus left, we could snack on that too.”

“That sounds perfect.” He promises, watching you load the dishwasher and he’d offer to help but he honestly has no clue how it even works. When you’re done, he grabs the bottle of wine from the wine fridge and guides you to his movie room, excited to see your reaction.

“Oh my God.” Your eyes widen when you walk into the room that he’s opening the door to. His Oscar is standing on a shelf, backlit, and on display. “This is wonderful. I would be in here every night watching movies.”

Dieter grins, happy you like it, “I would if I could but I don’t have a lot of time to watch movies. Too busy working or doing some PR shit. Plus I hate watching movies alone.” He pouts and then his expression shifts, “what you wanna watch?” He asks, eyes wide with excitement as he drags you over to the hidden wall of DVDs and VHS tapes.

He has a very extensive collection. You giggle when you see some of the late 70’s/early 80’s porno covers. “Really?” You tease, arching a brow. “Watch them for the cinematic elements? Or looking for acting tips?” You pull out a copy of Debbie Does Dallas and smirk as you wiggle it at him.

Dieter blushes, unable to help it as you discover his collection of porn. "What can I say? I like a big bush." He confesses, "and they have more plot. It's, uh, it's stupid." He mutters, taking the VHS tape from your grip, "also, I hate having browser history. Who the fuck knows who is hacking into your shit to see what your preferences are? This way no one can track it and I get to relax." He confesses, looking down at the tape.

“I’m not against it at all.” You promise. “That’s a smart way of looking at it, and some of them are cheesy, but the sexual revolution was on film. Preserved for all time.” You bite your lip and reach out to slide your fingers along his robe. The vulnerability he’s showing is pretty attractive. “Why don’t we watch it?” You offer.

His eyebrows raise, "you wanna - you wanna watch porn with me?" He dramatically whispers and you giggle, nodding, and he offers you a wolfish grin. "I'll put it in the VHS player." He declares excitedly and he leans in to kiss your cheek.

You choose a seat right up front and settle in, enjoying the idea of each seat being big enough for two. It looks like whoever designed it put in loveseat recliners. “Have you ever thrown an orgy in here?” You ask. “I’ve heard rumors about parties, but never anything too crazy.”

Dieter smirks, "not in here. I kinda - this is a sanctuary and I didn't want to have a gross clean up. Plus no one really sees my Oscar. Some fucking asshole could steal it so only special people are allowed in the movie room. Orgies are for the rest of the house. But that...I haven't done that in a while." He admits as he comes to sit down beside you.

“Got bored with it?” You ask, reaching for the bottle and looking at the label. “I get it. Anything excessive can get boring after a while. Especially when you just crave a connection. You know what I mean?”

He nods, "yeah. I - I don't know how to have a connection but I also don't want to deal with the clingers who only want my fame, my money, and don't give a fuck about me. I want real. I want - I want to be loved." He confesses softly, knowing Anika could've been his chance at that but she wanted to change him. She wanted him to be a completely different person and he couldn't do that.

“I get it.” You do, all you want is to be loved. The music starts to capture your attention and you turn towards the screen. Immediately giggling when the screen changes to the first scene. “Let’s drink while we review.” You joke, opening the bottle with a pop of the cork and taking a sip straight from the neck since he didn’t get any glasses.

He grins, loving how easy it feels with you, and he takes the bottle from your hand, gulping down some wine, and he settles back to judge the porno. “I wonder what it took to get into the industry then?” He muses, handing you back the bottle.

“Big tits or a big dick?” You guess, taking another drink. “I think I like the more natural porn of these times. There wasn’t as much plastic surgery as there is now. I mean, look at that ass jiggle.” You point to a scene where the star is getting plowed from behind. “She hadn’t had the fat sucked out. Or put in.”

Dieter snorts, "ain't that the truth. The amount of women my PR team has made me 'date' and they aren't real. They have fillers and implants and extensions and I can't even begin to figure out what's natural." He sighs, taking the bottle back to sip once more. "I think I like watching them because they are genuine. Those moans and grunts aren't fake whines for the camera. They are real." He admits, cock stirring when the camera zooms in on the man's dick plunges into the woman's cunt.

“Real.” You echo. “And it’s sexy. Watching other people fuck.” You admit. “Being a voyeur in your own living room. Imagining what you would do if you were there.” You’ve been single for a long time and have watched plenty of porn, although You normally watch porn that focuses on the woman’s pleasure.

Dieter is hard beneath his robe but he doesn't move to touch himself, opting to watch the porn intently. "That's why I like threesomes." He confesses, "being the one involved and feeling eyes on you or being the one to watch. It's like your own personal porno and it's intoxicating." He confesses, "have you ever had a threesome?"

“I have.” His head whips around to look at you in shock and you snort at his expression. “What?” You shrug, taking another swig of the wine. “My boyfriend wanted to do it, so we did it.” The relationship hasn’t lasted much longer, but that was because he was a douche bag.

Dieter is curious, cock twitching at the thought. "so, was it two men or two women?" He asks, curious to hear what you've done in the past. Moans echo out the speakers but Dieter is solely focused on you right now.

You roll your eyes. “Two women.” You huff. “Of course he was squeamish about two men, but he agreed to it later on, but we broke up about a month later.” You shrug. “His loss.”

Dieter snorts, "yeah I'll fucking say. What a dumb bastard. If you were mine, I'd happily give you what you want." He promises, his cock throbbing and he can't resist reaching down to squeeze himself to have some relief.

“Yeah?” You smirk as you watch him reach down and squeeze his cock. There’s something playful and fun about this, almost forbidden and you enjoy that. “So you’ll let me suck your fat cock?” You coo, passing him the bottle and slipping down to your knees in front of the love seat. “Cause that’s what I want right now.”

"Fuck." Dieter mutters to himself and he watches you pull his robe open, hooking your fingers in his threadbare boxers to pull them down, and he groans when your fingers wrap around his cock. He sips the wine, his mouth suddenly dry, and he nearly chokes on the wine when you wrap your lips around the head of his cock, pressing your tongue to the slit to taste his pre-cum.

You had meant to tease him, to just give him a small taste of your mouth, but his moan is so sexy that you look up to see what he looks like. He doesn’t look like a cocky, smarmy actor who expects his dick to get sucked. He looks surprised, wrecked by the sight of you on your knees for him. You hum at the salty taste and lap at the tip before you pull back to dribble your saliva over the head while you start to pump him in your fist.

His whine is pathetic even to his own ears. It's been so long since someone touched him like he wasn't just a toy. He wants to be good for you. Acting without a second thought, he tilts the wine bottle and dribbles Chardonnay over his cock and your fingers.

Humming in approval, you smirk as you lunge forward to lap up the alcohol and groan with him when you take him back onto your mouth. This is sexy, far sexier than it should be and you are enjoying the sounds he’s making. Greedily taking him down your throat as the porno plays behind you, lights flashing onto the seats while you bob your head to the sounds of the slapping of skin.

The porno plays on the big screen behind you, the sounds of sex filling the room from the speakers, but Dieter's heartbeat pounds in his ears as he watches you suck his cock. You pull back after a second and he eagerly pours more wine over his wet length, loving the way you lunge forward to take him into your mouth a little deeper.

His wordless praises are urging you on, groaning and tensing underneath your hand on his thigh. Your eyes flicker up to his face and he’s not watching the movie, he’s watching you.

You're like something from a fucking dream. Sucking his cock and he twitches in your mouth when his gaze flicks up to the screen and he realizes you are hotter than what's on the screen. Way hotter. "Fuck. Look at you." He rasps, "taking my cock. You like it, huh? You wanted that fat cock in your mouth?" He asks, caressing your cheek.

He’s a little more assertive than he was this morning, but the cockiness isn’t a turn off. Not when his fingers brush your cheek gently and there’s an edge of amazement in his voice. You moan around him in agreement and enjoy the way he twitches on your tongue. Taking him down your throat even more and feeling yourself soaking your panties.

He groans, watching you as you eagerly blow him. Your hand on his thigh shifting until you are cupping his balls, and he moans your name. “Gonna make me cum.” He whines, unable to believe how quickly you’ve worked him up.

You hum, loving how he practically trembles when your mouth vibrates around him. You feel his balls start to pull tight and his choked groan is just the start as he begins to flood your mouth with wave after wave of his salty seed.

He hasn’t cum that fast in so long but you wrecked him with your mouth. You moan around his cock and he tries to keep his hips still, length pulsing as you eagerly swallow every drop of cum that he gives you. “Holy fucking shit.” He gasps, trying to catch his breath.

You wait until he is slumping back in the chair before you pull off his now softening cock. The soft plop is wet against his stomach and you grin as you lean back and look up at him, “how was that?”

He stares at you for a second, chest heaving, and he shoves the wine bottle onto the small table on the recliners and he reaches for you. Pulling you up into his lap, he presses his lips to yours, uncaring of the taste of his cum. His tongue slides into your mouth and his hands find your ass to squeeze hard.

You laugh into the kiss, finding his impulsivity sweet so you shift to straddle him and let him touch you how he wants. Dieter groans into your mouth as he squeezes your ass, pulling one hand back to slap it through your jeans and you huff playfully and nip his bottom lip.

His hands slide around your waistband, working to unbutton your jeans, and you shift off him to shove them down. You kick them off and he beckons you back into his lap. “Look at her taking his cock.” He murmurs, sliding his hand down your stomach until he’s dipping beneath your panties to rub your clit. You’re soaked.

“It looks so hot.” You admit with a small gasp as his fingers start to dance over your clit. He’s talented, stroking your folds and dipping his fingers down to just press into your pussy lightly, teasing you. “Dieter.” You moan softly.”

He chuckles at your moan, leaning in to kiss along your jaw, “that’s right, baby. It’s me making you feel good.” He rubs your clit again and you whine, squirming against him, but he pursues slowly working you up. His fingers dip lower once more, pushing one then two digits into your dripping cunt. “He looks like she’s tighter than a vice. That’s what I love about these movies. There’s no pretending. It’s real. It’s filmed, yes, but it’s not acting. Those are real moans and expressions.”

You whimper, agreeing with him as he teases you with his fingers. This Dieter is in charge, taking over your pleasure and it’s just as sexy as the whining mess of a man you had taken apart this morning. A true switch as he kisses and nips along your jaw.

He works his fingers deeper, curling them into your pussy, and he groans when your walls clamp down on his digits. You moan his name and he loves it. “That’s it, baby. Take what I give you. Want to make you cum for me.” He mutters, kissing your jaw.

You watch the movie, squirming in Dieter’s lap as he pumps his fingers in and out of your needy pussy. Both of you groaning when he hits deep inside you and your walls clench around him. “Fuck baby.” You whine, eyes closing as you start to pant. “I’m so close.”

Dieter can tell and he twists his wrist to press his thumb against your clit, curling his fingers inside your needy pussy. “Cum for me, baby.” He demands, “wanna feel it. Want you to drip down my wrist.”

You whine softly, turning your head and pressing your lips to his jaw, right as you start to shake apart for him when he plunges his fingers deep.

Dieter groans your name as you cum for him, turning to swallow your moans with his tongue. His fingers work in and out of your desperate pussy, squelching as your thighs squeeze his hand.

It’s blissful, the sudden drop and the rush of endorphins washing over you while your thighs tighten and your tits shake as you thrash around on his lap. Addicted to the sweet, tangy taste of his kiss and the needy way he pulls pleasure from you even though he’s already cum. Only when you limp and pushing at his hand does he pull his thumb away from your clit and still his fingers stay buried inside you. “Your fingers are magical.” You whisper against his lips with a smile.

“Happy to be of service.” He winks, keeping his fingers inside you. He likes how your walls are still fluttering and he turns his attention back to the screen. “Look at her. She’s taking his cock in her pussy like it’s her purpose in life. I love that. Sex that takes over your whole mind, no thoughts except the other person and how they make you feel.”

“You like the connection.” It’s an observation, one that should surprise you but it doesn’t. Not after seeing this side of the actor. Something far beyond the TMZ pap photos and sensational articles that the gossip rags like to publish. “Why haven’t you gotten married?” You ask curiously.

His sigh is heavy, weighted with regret and almost longing. “I was engaged once. Long time ago. When I was just getting started. She was an aspiring actress and we - I hit it big and she didn’t. She couldn’t handle it - jealousy- and she cheated on me to ‘get even’ so, uh, obviously it was over. After that, I kind of gave up on finding someone permanent and threw myself into my work. Decided to focus on my pleasure and forget commitment since it’s so hard to find in this town.”

“Damn. I’m sorry, she just is a shit person.” You huff, still content to stay sprawl on his lap as both of you relax. “But you shouldn’t let that continuously shape your life. Find someone who makes you happy, want to make them happy.” You shrug and turn your head to kiss him. “None of my business though. Best relationships I’ve ever seen are ones where they just do little things for each other every day. My dad used to make my mom coffee every morning. And mom would pack dad’s lunch.”

Dieter smiles at the thought, “I’d like that. Just happy to be together. Contentment. With some incredible sex.” He adds, reminding you of his fingers inside your pussy as he starts to move them again. His cock is stirring pressed into your back, his head ducking so he can kiss your shoulder. “Promise me you’ll come back. After you leave today.”

“Filming starts tomorrow.” You remind him, head tilting back as he moves his fingers in and out in the most teasing kind of lazy pump. It’s designed to make you roll your hips down and search out his touch. “But I’ll come back.” You add.

Dieter beams, pleased at your promise, and he leans in to kiss your neck, pressing soft kisses to your skin. “Fuck. I think she’s gonna cum.” He murmurs, twisting his wrist to press his thumb to your clit.

You don’t know if he is talking about the girl in the porno on the screen or you, but you moan in agreement. “Fuck me.” You coo. “Bend me over and fuck me while you watch her cum.”

He groans at your request, slowly withdrawing his fingers from your pussy, and he slaps your thigh, “hands and knees.” He orders, his cock now hard and aching to be inside you again.

You shift, moving over to the other side of the loveseat and pressing your weight down on the arm as you bend over. “Oh he’s fucking her from behind too.” You moan when you notice the screen again. “Hurry Dee.”

He scrambles onto his knees, his hands gripping your hips to angle you just right, and he grips his cock. He shuffles closer until he can push into your tight pussy. “Shit.” He hisses, watching his length disappear inside you, engulfed by the wetness and heat, and he turns his head to watch the couple on the screen.

“Oh fuck.” Dieter feels bigger from this angle. The head of his cock pressing up inside you and makes your toes curl with a gasp of his name when he hits just right. “Right there.” You manage, your fingernails digging into the fabric of the loveseat.

He clenches his jaw, trying to focus on that spot, and he grips your hips to keep you still as he works himself into your cunt over and over. “Shit. You’re so goddamn tight.” He grunts, his eyes flicking to the screen, “look at them. She is getting fucked hard like you.” He murmurs, punching deep on his next thrust.

Your answering cry is loud, just like the girl on screen, but you know that he feels the way that your cunt tightens down around him. This has been such an odd day, but it’s perfect the way he just naturally seems to give you what you need and you provide what he needs. Every hookup should be just this easy. “I’m getting the better fucking.” You pant out, rocking your hips back when he pulls back to thrust into you again.

He chuckles, chest puffing at the praise, and he loves how you chase him when he pulls back to thrust into you once more. “That’s it, baby. Shit. You’re so fucking good.” He murmurs, running his hand along your spine until he smacks your ass. “You gonna be a good girl and cum for me again?” He hums, needing to feel it, hear it.

“Yes!” As much as you enjoyed making Dieter whine and moan for you earlier, you also like when he is demanding. Controlling your pleasure and his voice dips down into a growl that you are certain you’ve heard in his movies and thought was sexy then. “I’ll be your good girl.” You promise, loving how deep his cock feels, it’s like he’s rearranging your guts as his hips slap against your ass. “Fuck I’m so close.” You gasp out.

Dieter smacks your ass again, grabbing both cheeks in his hands, and he squeezes. “That’s it baby. Fuck. Can feel how close you are. Cum for me. I wanna hear it. Need to feel it.” He growls, thrusting faster.

It only takes another few thrusts, that pressure building with every punch of his cock and when you cum, you are tossing your head back and crying out loud enough to drown out the music and groans from the movie as you soak his cock for the second time of the day.

“Jesus Christtttt.” Dieter hisses at how tight you squeeze his cock. He fucking loves it. He pants and fucks you through it, squeezing your hips as he starts to sloppily thrust into you. His own orgasm is almost there and he glances at the screen, watching the man pull out to cum all over her ass. “Fuck. Where you want it?”

“However you want.” You pant, head leaning against the arm rest. “You decide.” You don’t mind if he fills you up again or if he covers your ass in his cum. Right now you are too blissed out to move, still shaking from the intensity of your orgasm.

He groans, wanting to see you covered in his cum. He pulls out of your tight cunt, gripping his cock, and he squeezes his length before he frantically pumps himself. Your name on his lips when only moments later, he starts to spurt hot streaks of cum over your ass and lower back.

You feel the ropes of cum cover your skin. Moaning softly as you watch the ending of the scene on the screen. “How does it look?” You ask after a moment, knowing that he’s completely spent himself.

Dieter looks down at your splattered back, his cum painting your skin, and he smirks, “looks like it could be in the Met.” He can’t resist swiping his finger through the sticky seed, swirling it until he brings his fingers to your mouth.

You wrap your lips around his fingers and suck, humming at the taste of his spent seed. “Yummy.” You tease when he pulls his fingers out of your mouth and you smirk over your shoulder.

He offers you a lopsided smile, almost a little lovesick, which is ridiculous but you have blown his mind. He’s never felt so comfortable so quickly. “I’ll clean you up.” He offers, shuffling off the sofa to reach for his robe. Do you want to pick out a regular movie to watch?”

You bite your lip as he wipes off his cum and sigh as you stand. “I really need to get home.” You admit. “You have an early day, and my day starts hours before yours does.” You know he’s not happy and you reach out to stroke his arm as he starts to pout. “I had fun. But we both need to get some sleep.”

Dieter pouts but he nods, “yeah. Yeah. You’re right. Can’t - can’t be late for call.” He offers you a soft smile, “but we can do this again, right?” He asks, eager and a little desperate but he would never admit that.

“Yeah, we can do this again.” You promise as you start to gather up your clothes to get redressed. “What you need to do is go to your bathroom, soak in a hot bath and drink another glass of wine, then tuck yourself into bed.” You wink. “And I’ll see you on set tomorrow.”

Dieter is disappointed but he knows he needs to try and learn his lines for tomorrow and having you in his bed won’t allow him to do that. He watches you redress and he pulls on his robe, even if it’s got dried cum on it, and when you gather your things, he reaches for you to pull you close. He cups your cheeks and presses his lips to yours, wordlessly saying goodbye. “See you on set.” You offer him a smile and he nods, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck when you step back from him and grab the paper he signed.

“Good night Dieter.” You look over your shoulder after you walk towards the door. “Sweet dreams.” You walk out and wonder how the star will treat you tomorrow on set. It should be interesting to see.

****

Dieter walks on set with a spring in his step, happy to be there and the makeup artist is confused because normally he’s grumpy and difficult at the best of times but early morning is his worst time of the day. “Coffee?” She offers, almost preparing for Dieter to snap but he just smiles and says, “that would be perfect.” She’s surprised, used to trying to appease the actor as he settles in the makeup chair to prepare for his call time. She hands him coffee and he smiles, “thanks, honey.” She’s surprised and looks over at the hair stylist who is working on the leading actress of the movie.

You have spent the morning tracking down different people. Putting out fires and delivering last minute directives. You’re already three coffees deep when you run to the makeup trailers to give the last minute notes Brian had put together about the characters and what he wants their appearance to look like. “Good morning.”

Dieter’s eyes widen at your appearance and his heart starts to pound. He murmurs your name, “good morning.” He says and you offer him a smile that has his palms getting sweaty. He doesn’t know what you’ve done to him but he’s nervous.

The hair stylist and the makeup artist notice the way that Dieter is shuffling slightly, wondering if he’s already somehow gotten in trouble where you are concerned. “Good morning, Mr. Bravo. Brian will be happy to hear you are on set.” You nod and smile at the leading actress before you move to hand the notes to the makeup artist. “We are still working on the lighting, so you will have a little more time to finish up.” You promise her.

He’s a little jarred that you didn’t say anything else after the two of you had amazing sex yesterday. A pout appears on his face as he looks at his reflection in the mirror. You notice but don’t say a word as you spin on your heel and leave the trailer. He huffs and rubs his knees, hating how his stomach twists and he feels like he needs to take a shit because you’ve got him so wound up in one small interaction.

Outside the trailer you stop and take a deep breath. Affected by running into Dieter already and surprised by how much you wanted to reach out to him and kiss him. “Shit.” You need to go take care of a few more things, but he will be in his trailer in an hour, you’ll go see him then.

Dieter is dressed in his costume, hair and makeup done, and he is taking a moment to go over his lines before he is called to set. His trailer door opens and he sighs, knowing he needs to find a new assistant soon to ward off people just walking into his trailer. When he sees you, he lowers the script in his hand, “uh, hi.”

“Hey Dieter.” You smile as you step into the trailer and close the door behind you. “You look good.” You compliment as you look around the surprisingly sterile space. You had expected it to reflect his personality but there was nothing of his in here unless you count his change of clothes he had worn to the set. “Are you ready for the shoot?”

He tilts his head, surprised by your easy going nature and he can’t help but pout. “Yep. All ready to go.” He says a little coolly, wanting you to know he’s peeved by your actions in the trailer earlier.

Your brow arches at his tone and you nod. “Of course.” You hum. “Since you are between assistants right now, Brian has asked that I make sure you have what you need on set.” You had basically volunteered for it, but the producers had been overjoyed by the suggestion. “Until you hire someone, of course.”

“I’ll be sure to get my management to find someone new to fill the position.” He says formally and you frown, putting your hand on your hip, “is there something wrong, Mr. Bravo?” You ask and he scoffs, remaining silent for a moment until he breaks. “Uh, ya.” He widens his eyes dramatically and looks at you, “back in the makeup trailer you acted like I didn’t just cum all over your back yesterday. A ‘how are you? Good to see you’ wouldn’t go amiss.”

“Dee.” You huff, biting back a laugh at his perturbed expression. “I didn’t think it was a good idea since we aren’t going to be public at work.” You remind him. “It’s not that I didn’t like seeing you. That's why I’m here right now.” He doesn’t look convinced so you step closer and reach out to caress his arm. “It’s good to see you.” You coo. “I went to sleep thinking about yesterday. About you.” You admit.

He pouts for another moment until he melts under your touch, his eyes softening as he looks at you. “Me too. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I don’t - I’m sorry. I know you’re trying to be professional but I really fucking like you.” He admits with a goofy smile.

“I really fucking like you too.” You promise, sliding your hand up his arm to pat his chest. “So much so that I was going to ask if you wanted me to come over tonight after we finished shooting.”

His nod is so frantic he almost breaks his neck. “Yes. Yes. I’d love that. Whenever. Whatever you want.” He promises, “we can be strangers outside but I just - I really want to see where this goes.”

“I’m never going to be rude to you.” You promise him gently. “But you are Dieter Bravo, and I’m just a production assistant. It would have been odd for me to be so friendly.” You wink and lean in to kiss his cheek.

He huffs out a “I know” and reaches for you to pull you closer. “I don’t know what this is between us but I don’t want to fuck it up.” He confesses, “so tell me when I’m being a dick or doing something wrong.” He requests, “because I will fuck up.”

“I will.” You grin and nod. “And I know you will tell me when you need something from me and I’m not giving it to you. I don’t know what this is, either, but it’s amazing how easy it feels.”

He gifts you with a relieved and happy smile, squeezing your waist, “I’d kiss you but Marian will kill me if I fuck up her makeup. Am I due on set?” He asks, feeling confident in his lines. He’s ready for his scene.

“You are, and we don’t want to risk Marian’s wrath.” You wrinkle your nose and pat his chest again before you step out of his arms. “We won’t want to be late for your first scene.”

Dieter nods, feeling excited and eager to film today. He’s really researched his character and he hopes this will be a successful movie in the box office. “Lead the way.” He orders, following you out of his trailer with the excitement of later lingering in his tummy.

You don’t walk beside him, walking in front of him and literally leading the way to the studio where the set has been built and the scenes for the day are being filmed. Lighting crew are rushing around and you drop by the craft services table to snag a bottle of water for Dieter and yourself before leading him over to his chair.

He sits down in his chair, offering a smile to his co-star who is a Hollywood starlet but she can be demanding and snobbish. Dieter might be demanding but he’s not a snob. He takes a sip of the water that you handed him and he should be going over his lines but he finds himself watching you instead as you command the set.

Once you have gotten Dieter settled, you move over to Brian to make sure that nothing else needs to be done. “Fuck, he’s on time and he looks sober.” Brian snorts as he looks over at Dee. “I didn’t think you worked miracles.” He jokes and you shake your head. “I didn’t do anything other than walk him to set.” You promise.

Dieter feels energized and he is ready to act his ass off. He thinks this could potentially be another Oscar win for him and he’s excited to see where it goes. Reviewing his lines one more time, he’s called onto set to rehearse the blocking, and he sees you talking to Brian. When your eyes meet his, he softens a little, surprised by the thumping of his heart.

Nodding to the man who is technically your boss, you shoot Dieter a small thumbs up before you walk off behind the cameras. This portion is the part you love. Watching the script you’ve memorized come to life.

Dieter slips into his character as soon as the lights switch, getting into his starting place, he stiffens his frame. When Brian calls action, he begins and he escapes into his character, channeling the script with ease.

You’ve watched Dieter’s movies before, enjoyed them. But you’ve never watched him become someone else. The set of his shoulders, the way he walks. Every nuanced portion of his character is altered to reflect the mannerisms of someone else. It’s watching art play out in the flesh. You see now why studios would risk scandal, risk all the bullshit that could happen with Dieter Bravo as a star. He is worth it, and you are captivated by the sight of him performing.

He runs through the scene easily, lines memorized as he’s nothing but a professional when it comes to his job, and Brian calls cut. “Let’s try it again with you being a little more distraught.” Brian suggests and Dieter nods, “I can do that. I think he’d be upset that she’s leaving.” He gives his input and soon Brian is calling action again.

You end up sitting in Dieter’s chair, watching as he goes through the scene again. Unaware that you’ve even sat down you are so wrapped up in the moment. You aren’t the only one. People have all stopped working, except the cameraman as they watch.

Dieter finishes the scene and Brian calls cut before he claps. “That was - wow. Perfection.” He praises Dieter who blushes and lifts his hand to thank the crew who join in on their applause. “That was just the first scene.” He chuckles, stomach swirling with the pressure of matching that energy for the rest of the shoot.

You are clapping along with everyone else when Dieter moves towards his seat. Making you realize that you are in his chair and you jump up. “Oh God, I’m so sorry.” You huff. “You completely had me spellbound.” Everyone around you laughs, knowing what you mean. “I didn’t even know I had sat down.”

Dieter smirks, seeing how starry eyed you are and he loves that he did that to you with his acting. He winks as you stand up and he reaches for his bottle of water, taking a sip as Brian discusses the next scene, wanting to do the time jump .

Because you are assisting Dieter on set, you aren’t sent off to run errands or fetch anything. Getting paid to watch his performance and every time becoming more and more impressed by him. He has an obvious understanding of the pages that you had just delivered to him yesterday and is more prepared for the shoot than his co-star.

Dieter taps his foot as his co-star asks for her line yet again and he’s glad his crazy method of learning his lines works. He’s a professional. Acting has been his entire life and he takes it seriously even if every other element in his life is fluid.

You can tell that Dieter is starting to get annoyed and you lean over to Brian. “Why don’t we break for lunch and let her look over her lines?” You suggest.

Dieter is relieved and Brian nods in agreement, calling it, and he shouts out for a break for lunch. Dieter pulls his robe on, knowing he can’t get anything on his costume, and he sighs, “shit. My assistant usually gets my lunch. I don’t even know where craft is.”

You snort and roll your eyes. “Go back to your trailer, Mr. Bravo.” You tell him softly. “I’ll get your lunch and bring it to you.”

“And my dessert?” He waggles his eyebrows and you snort, rolling your eyes. Dieter grins, his stomach twisting with happiness. Something he hasn’t felt in so long. He watches you walk off, his eyes on your ass, until he makes his way back to his trailer, eager to see you again.

At craft services, you pick out something healthy and tasty. Avoiding the kale, since it’s not in hummus for him. Taking the plate back to the trailer with his name on it.

When you arrive back at his trailer, Dieter is sitting on the sofa, reading the next scene to ensure he’s learned his lines. He doesn’t want to fuck up when his co-star is dragging this out. You set the plate down on his coffee table and he frowns, “you didn’t get anything for yourself?”

“No.” You shrug slightly. “I can go back and get something to eat later on.” It’s not that big of a deal to you and you didn’t think Dieter would want company while he eats and tries to relax.

"Here. Have some of mine." He orders, holding the fork out towards you, "we can get a snack later. You have to eat." He insists, eyebrows raised as you sit down beside him.

“You don’t have to-“ you start to protest but he shakes his head. “Eat.” He repeats, making you smirk. “Yes, daddy.” You tease playfully, taking the fork and getting a bite of the food.

Fuck, his cock twitches at that. He likes that. He never thought he would. “Say that again, baby.” He demands, voice lowering with his unexpected arousal.

Your brow shoots up and your lips curve into a sly grin. “Yes…..daddy.” You repeat slowly, your own voice soft and seductive.

He gulps as he watches you take another bite from his fork, and his cock twitches once more. "Goddamn. Never knew I liked that." He confesses, his eyes watching your lips wrap around his fork after he scoops up some more food for you.

You hum as you chew and swallow. “Sometimes it’s just about the right moment or the right person saying it to you.” You tease, motioning towards his plate. “You need to eat too. Have to have the strength to finish your performance today so you can fuck me tonight.”

Dieter pouts, knowing you’re right, but you look so good right now. “Fine.” He huffs, taking the fork from your hand to take a bite of the food. “You want to come over later?” He asks, eyes wide, and when you nod, he leans in to kiss your cheek. “You’re like a dream come true.”

You laugh, enjoying his earnest behavior. He’s a needy one, but right now, it’s you that’s needy. “No, after that performance, it will be my dream come true to fuck you.” You promise. “I got so turned on watching you.”

He offers you an awestruck look at your praise of his performance. He loves getting revered for his work. "You really liked it?" He asks and you giggle, cupping his cheek, "I loved it. You are incredible. I got wet watching you work." You confess and he can't stop himself from surging forward to press his lips to yours.

It’s technically breaking the rules that you’ve set up, but you don’t push him away. The kiss can’t go beyond that because there isn’t time. He still has to eat and get back to the set for the next scenes. So you kiss him back.

Dieter groans, knowing he hasn't got time to fuck you, and he huffs against your lips after you gently push on his chest. "I'll be a good boy." He promises, reaching for the plate so he can continue eating.

“Good.” It’s endearing how Dieter can behave when he wants to. He eats another bite of his meal and you watch him with a smile. He is eating everything you picked and you make a note of what you can grab for him as a snack later.

He groans when he's finished, setting the plate down, and he turns to look at you. "I guess I'll eat dessert later." He pouts, hungry for you but he knows he needs to behave.

“Dessert will be waiting.” You promise with a wink and a grin. “On a platter, or maybe on a counter.”

He returns your grin, "fuck yes. I'll devour it." He promises, reaching down to adjust his cock through his pants. "I guess we gotta get back to set." He murmurs, disappointed but understanding.

You nod. “The sooner you get your scenes done, the sooner you can go home and soak in a bath.” You offer the suggestion innocently enough. You love soaking in a bath.

"With you." Dieter adds and you smirk, nodding at his enthusiasm. "With me." You promise and he grunts, shifting to stand. He adjusts himself and looks down at you, "you need to eat and then I'll see you on set."

You don’t miss the way he has to adjust in his pants and it makes you feel powerful. You can tell that he’s addicted to sex but you turn him on and that is powerful. You quickly finish and swing by the cart again to pick up some snack foods to have on hand on set for him.

Dieter makes his way back to set and soon enough, he’s back in character. He inhales deeply right before action is called and his day is spent immersed in his passion. He listens to notes from Brian and his eyes drift over to you sitting in his chair. You’re gorgeous and he doesn’t know how he missed you before. Brian calls it a day and Dieter heads back to his trailer to hang up his costume and take a shower to wash off the sweat and makeup of the day.

“Listen, I don’t know what the fuck is happening.” Brian is animated, talking with his hands and full of energy. “But I don’t want to mess this up.” He points at you. “Whatever you are doing to make that man give that performance, keep it up. You aren’t to do anything else but keep him churning out those takes.” He laughs. “I can’t- we are going to sweep the Oscars if he keeps this up.” You nod. “I’m not doing anything special, but I’ll make sure he stays on the mark.” You promise, happy that you are being given such an easy task for this movie.

Dieter has a towel wrapped around his waist as he exits the bathroom to find you waiting for him. "Hey baby." He winks, running his hands through his wet hair, "I need to be extra clean. I definitely think a hot bath will do the trick and then you can get me dirty again."

You chuckle, slowly admiring his body as he watches you. His shoulders straighten and he flexes slightly. “Soak in a bath, drink some more wine.” You shrug. “Maybe I’ll ride your cock in the tub, should be big enough, right?”

Dieter smirks, "it's huge. Like a fucking swimming pool." He reveals and you giggle, "I'm thinking red wine and I want to drink it from your mouth." He hums, walking over to you, "and lap it from your tits."

“That works for me.” You agree, standing up. “Get dressed and I’ll follow you back to your house. What do you want to do for dinner? You want me to make something again?”

He shakes his head, “I kinda want tacos. Can we have tacos?” He asks, eyes wide as he looks at you. He drops his towel without a thought and turns to grab his comfy clothes to go home in.

You chuckle at his brazenness and watch his tiny ass as he moves. He’s not shy, but you don’t know very many actors who are. Dieter’s done plenty of nude scenes in movies and even if it was body doubles, which it wasn’t, he’s got nothing to be ashamed of. “Tacos sound good to me.” You answer. “We can have some delivered and one day, I’ll have to make you my birria tacos.”

He turns to see you watching him and he smirks, turning to give you a full frontal view. “Like what you see?” He teases even with a flaccid cock. He sways his hips so it swings and he reaches for his t-shirt. “I was asked to do full frontal once and I agreed but they decided against it.” He confesses as he pulls the shirt over his head and reaches for his sweatpants.

“That would have been a very paused movie.” You laugh. “All the girls and boys would be staring at your cock and imagining it hard.” It’s your turn to smirk since you’ve seen it hard. “It’s a pity they can’t see how gorgeous it is. Perfect length, perfect girth, beautifully cut head.” You hum.

Dieter blushes, loving your words for his cock, and he tilts his head after he pulls his sweats up, forgoing underwear. "Perfect to make you cum on it over and over again."

“Exactly.” You know this little thing between you will only last as long as Dieter is entertained or interested in you, so you don’t take it seriously. Never worrying too much about relationship status or whatever, as long as he’s not screwing someone else, you are good. This will probably only last as long as primary filming and you will both go on your separate ways with hopefully a few fond memories.

Dieter is soon sliding his feet into his crocs and he tilts his head at you, “you ready to eat?” He asks, holding his hand out towards you. He craves affection and touch on the best of days but right now he needs you.

You almost remind him that you are to be professional on set, but there’s something in his eyes that begs you to give him this. That it’s something that he needs. Smiling, you reach for his hand and nod. “Starving.” You agree. “Watching you act works up an appetite for me.” You tease, winking playfully at him.

He grins, squeezing your hand, and you grab your purse so he can guide you out of his trailer. He remembers your request and drops your hand, winking at you to reassure you as he says “gotta be professionals.” He knows you drove and he usually gets dropped off by his car service. “Can you give me a ride home?”

“Sure, Mr. Bravo.” You agree. “I’ll give you a ride home.” Your car is nothing special but it’s a good, clean car. You pull your keys out of your bag and guide him out towards the parking lot.

Dieter eagerly gets into your car. He’s not really a car person so fancy cars, cheap cars…all he cares about is that he doesn’t have to drive. “How the fuck do you park all the way out here and go into the studio?” He comments at what a trek it is as you slide into the drivers side.

You snort as you press your foot on the brake and start the engine. “It’s my workout on days I can’t make it to the gym, which is most days.” You joke. “Have to leave all the good parking for those pesky actors.”

Dieter snorts, reaching for your hand when you are driving to his place, and he feels like he can be himself. Normally he’s putting on an act, continuing to play a character to suit the person he’s with, but with you…he doesn’t feel like he has to put on a persona. He’s looking forward to taking you to bed again. He’s sure tonight won’t be the last time.

****

“Oh shit!” You slap your hand over your mouth and rush past Dieter, racing for the small toilet in the trailer. About to lose your meager lunch once more as you feel Dieter’s worried frown staring at your back. Ever since that first day, your thing with Dieter has grown. You spend every night together, although sometimes you have to go back to your apartment. Even if it’s just to get more things to bring over to his house. Now you have to figure out how to tell the eccentric actor you are pregnant.

Dieter frowns as you throw up and at first he wrinkles his nose. He doesn’t like the smell but then he remembers it’s you and he stands up, making his way into the bathroom. You’re kneeling over the toilet and he bends over to rub your back, “Jesus, did you eat the shrimp from craft?” He asks, hearing you retch again and it makes him gag but he stands over you.

You huff out a laugh, but you think that it’s sweet that he’s even in here with you. Dieter has an incredibly weak stomach and he will get sick at the idea of getting sick. “No.” You manage to pant when you finally come up for air and flush the remnants of your meal down the drain. Wiping your mouth, you twist your head around and look at Dieter. “I’m pregnant.”

He stares at you, mouth open, and he shakes his head. “Wait…say that again.” He demands and you shift onto the now closed toilet seat, sitting down. “I’m pregnant.” You repeat and he frowns, processing the news, and it makes his chest tighten in panic until he remembers it’s you. “Well shit. Guess I’m gonna be a daddy.” He chuckles out, stomach twisting.

You expected him to freak out. To deny it or worse, blame you. Instead, he’s standing there acting like you’ve told him that you want to have sex in the bathtub again. Like it’s a normal occurrence. “You, um, you aren’t upset?” You ask, frowning slightly as you try to figure out what is going through his mind right now.

Dieter shakes his head, “I figured it would happen at some point.” He shrugs one shoulder, “and I thought I’d fuck up with some bimbo who couldn’t even get off the coke long enough to give our baby a fighting chance. I’m glad it’s with you. You’ll be a good mom. That is…if you want to keep it. It’s not - it’s your choice. I can’t tell you what to do with your body. Woman’s choice and you know - but I’d be happy if you do want to keep it.” He rambles, scratching the back of his neck.

“Oh, I’m- um, I didn’t think about not keeping the baby.” You admit, biting your lip. You haven’t really given it much thought if you're honest with yourself. “I just found out this morning.” You look up at him seriously. “You really want to keep it? Be involved? Or just know you have a kid out there somewhere.”

Dieter shifts to kneel in front of you as you sit on the toilet. “I want to be involved. I’m old, baby. I can’t keep doing this bachelor shit. I want to be a father. A good one. I think - I think I could do it. Am I gonna fuck up? Yes…but I want to try.” He reaches for your hands, “I want to try with you.”

You’re surprised, really surprised. Looking down at your joined hands and then back up into his eyes. “I think you’ll be a fun dad.” You admit softly. “Unorthodox, sure, but probably a loving parent.” You know that he will accept whatever his child chooses in life. “So, I guess this means people will finally know that we are sleeping together.” You chuckle.

Dieter offers you a lopsided grin, “I think most people know, baby. You scream my name pretty loud when I’m fucking you in here.” He gestures to his trailer. “We’re doing this. And you’re moving in with me.” He adds, bringing your hand up to kiss the back of it.

You snort, rolling your eyes. “Knew I should have never let you talk me into having sex in your trailer.” You joke. “And I practically live with you already.” Dieter huffs. “No, I mean, you get rid of that apartment you pay for. I’ll take care of you.” You never expected Dieter to give you anything, not even money for groceries when you are staying at his place and cooking for both of you. “As long as you let me help you with the bills.”

He rolls his eyes, “baby. Use that money for the baby. Put it in an account for baby clothes or college or their first car. I’ve got more money than I even know and I want you to use yours how you want. Best way you can pay me is to be happy and healthy while you grow our baby.” He lowers your hand and his fingers hover near your stomach. “Can I - I know you don’t have a bump yet but-” You reach for his hand and place it on your belly. He lets out a shuddering breath and slowly his lips lift in a smile. “You’re gonna make one hell of a milf.”

You laugh, shaking your head at his comment, relieved that the conversation had not gone like you had expected. You had expected tears or a little tantrum. Okay, a big tantrum. Dieter has been amazing honestly, and your relationship has been the easiest one you’ve ever had, even if you weren’t officially together. “Does that mean you want to keep having sex?” You tease. “Have you ever had sex with a pregnant woman?”

Dieter shakes his head, “no, but - fuck - I really like the thought of it.” He confesses, cock twitching under his sweatpants. “If you want me to keep fucking you. I- I really like you. A lot. So, uh, I want to continue on this crazy ride if you’ll have me. Filming ends next week and I want us to move in together.”

You smile as you reach out and caress his cheek. “I like you a lot too.” You murmur softly. “I practically live at your house anyway, so we should make it official. And I think I’ll die if you stop fucking me.” Your eyes widen dramatically. “I’m so fucking horny.”

Dieter groans, leans in to press his forehead to yours, “I’ll make you cum as many times as you need, baby.” He promises, “until the day I die.” He vows, knowing that you haven’t exchanged “I love yous” but he can feel his heart getting there. Despite you being pregnant, he doesn’t want to tell you something that isn’t true. He always wants to be truthful with you. He doesn’t do sneaky shit. He’s been hurt by that in the past.

You melt a little, feeling soft because of creating a new life with Dieter and having him want to be a part of this. “So take me home.” You lean in and go to kiss him, but you pull away before you do. “Sorry, let me brush my teeth.”

He nods, shifting back as you stand up to grab the toothbrush you got to keep in his trailer, and he watches you as you brush your teeth. Unable to believe that you’re pregnant with his kid. He wasn’t even sure if he could have kids. His swimmers have been dosed with every drug known to man. After he nearly overdosed and died in England, he has stayed away from doing the hard stuff. For his kid, he will do whatever it takes to be a good father. Even if that means giving up weed.

You finish up and rinse your mouth out, setting the toothbrush down next to Dieter’s and turn to look at him. “Ready to go home, baby?” You ask. “I’m starving and I want you to fuck me.”

He grins, grabbing your waist to pull you against him so he can kiss you. His kiss is soft and quick, pulling back to ask you what you want to eat. “Tacos.” You groan and Dieter nods, “whatever my baby mama wants.”

“Baby mama.” You roll your eyes and laugh. “You know that this is going to cause an uproar at the studio and in the press, don’t you?” You ask, although you aren’t really bothered by that fact. If they didn’t like the fact that you are having a baby with Dieter, they can kick rocks in your opinion.

Dieter frowns, “why would it? We are two consenting adults. You don’t work for me. I don’t work for you. We work in the same environment but no one is violating any contracts.” He knows because he had his manager check his contract for this movie. “And I don’t give a fuck what the press says. I never have.”

It’s true, Dieter definitely dances to the beat of his own drum. “I’m not saying that it’s a bad thing. But the studio will honestly try to use it as a promotion for the movie.” You explain. “As for what your fan club calls me, I don’t really care.”

Dieter snorts, "maybe those fucking psychos who think they are going to fuck me and have my baby will realize that it's not going to happen and they can stop writing fanfiction about me." He smirks, caressing your waist as you lean into his body. "For the studio...I won't let them use our baby for marketing. There are too many crazies out there."

“I know.” You love that he wants his privacy, and you feel like he would be protective of his child. “Tacos and ice cream.” You groan, thinking that it sounds wonderful. “We can stop on the way home right?”

"Yep." He promises, "and then you're going to sit on my face until you want to sit on my cock." He smirks, leaning in to kiss your neck. "Let's go home, babe." He murmurs, breathing you in.

****

“Dee!” They say you start looking like your partner and you are beginning to believe it. Wearing shorts and a tank top that is stretched over your rounded belly, you are wearing his ratty robe and your own pair of crocs. After your feet started swelling, you had to admit the slip on footwear is both convenient and comfy. Hand pressed to your back, you waddle through the house looking for the father of your baby. “Dee!”

Dieter is reading the schedule for his PR tour. He made sure his agent and the studio know when you’re due so he has some time at home with you and the baby before he has to go on the press tour for the movie. “I’m here, babe.” He calls out, adjusting his glasses as he makes his way out of his office to meet you halfway. “You feeling okay?” He asks when he finds you and his hand immediately rests on your bump.

“I want you to fuck me.” You pant out, out of breath, but that’s not unusual since the baby takes up every inch where your lungs and bladder used to be. This entire pregnancy, you have been insatiable, testing Dieter’s high sex drive. You reach for one hand and move it to your breast. It’s tender, but he never squeezes now that you are farther along and your nipples ache with need.

Dieter smirks, one hand on your tit, the other on your bump, “yeah? You need me?” He twitches in his sweatpants and slides the hand on your bump lower until he’s cupping your pussy. “Strip down mama.” He orders, wanting to see you naked and full of his baby.

You had assumed that one day you would be self conscious about your pregnant body. That Dieter might not find you as sexy as you were before, but nothing could be farther from the truth. He has made you feel gorgeous, even now when you feel like you’re the size of a bus, or a whale. So you have no hesitation when shucking off his robe and reaching for the hem of your tank top to pull off.

“Goddamn gorgeous.” He mutters, watching you strip down, chuckling when you kick off your crocs, and his hand finds your bump again. “How do you want me, baby?” He asks, pulling his shirt over his head before he dramatically shoves his sweatpants down to reveal his hardening cock.

“Fuck.” No matter how many times he’s fucked you, you are still impressed with how thick his cock is. “I want you to fuck me while I’m on my back.” You admit, a lot of positions aren’t comfortable for you any more and you don’t want to ride him. “Legs on your shoulders.”

“Yes ma’am.” He salutes playfully and takes your hand, guiding you down the hall to the bedroom you now share. He takes your hand, helping you up onto the bed so you can lay down, and he kneels on the bed beneath your thighs. He leans down to gently take your nipple into his mouth, sucking and groaning as he imagines suckling some milk from your tits. Your whine is music to his ears and he switches to your other breast.

“Fuuuuck Dee.” He is so in tuned to your body after all this time. He knows exactly what you need, even if you don’t at that moment. Your legs shift and press together before spreading wide. “I need you, baby. I need that cock if yours.”

“You need my fingers? Or my tongue?” He asks, kissing down your sternum until he presses his lips against your bump. “She’s kicking.” Dieter murmurs, kissing the bump again. “Just your cock.” You whine and he nods, shuffling onto his knees, squeezing his cock in his fist as he leans in to slide his cock through your folds.

You are always so fucking wet now. The head of his cock slides through your folds easily, making you moan as he presses against your clit. “Fuck, Dee.” You bite your lip and reach up to cup both of your tits. “Inside baby, fuck, fill me up.”

He grunts, pushing into you slowly and you whimper, mouth falling open as he stretches you out. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” He murmurs, caressing your thigh and up your leg until he’s gripping your calf, lifting it onto his shoulder. He copies the motion with your other leg so he pushes deeper into you.

You’re so fucking sensitive. That’s one of the reasons why you are addicted to sex right now. Every slow rock of his hips makes your toes curl in pleasure as you moan. Your fingers twist into the sheets as he fucks you. “God baby, I love that cock. Love how you fuck me. That’s all you should do, all day, every day. Just fuck me until I scream your name.”

“I would if we had the time but we are preparing for our girl.” He chuckles, caressing your calves as he starts to move. He rocks into you, working his cock in and out as you writhe beneath him. “So fucking gorgeous full of my baby. You’re mine, aren’t you?” He murmurs, eyes dark as he watches you.

“Yes, I’m yours.” Even having a baby together, you’ve never defined what you are. You’re living together but you wouldn’t say that you are his partner. It’s never been something you’ve been concerned with. “Your baby.” You coo, rubbing your stomach after letting go of one tit. He already adores his little girl, crying when he heard her heart beating and saw her little picture on the sonogram.

He rocks into you, watching your expressions for any sign that he’s hurting you because that’s the last thing he wants. He only wants to see pleasure on your face. He turns his head to kiss your calf, “that feel good, baby?” He checks, wanting to make sure you like this angle.

“Sooooo good.” You moan, clenching down around him hard enough to make him hiss. You heard doing Kegals was good for labor and delivery, so you’ve been working on your pelvic floor whenever you can. “Always make me feel good.”

“So fucking tight.” He hisses when you do it again. “Jesus.” He pants, needing you to cum before he does but you’re so tight. He grunts, sliding his hand down your leg until he can rub your clit with his thumb. “Need you to cum for me, baby.” He orders, voice whiny.

You smirk, knowing that voice means that he is close to cumming. “Then make me cum, Dee.” You’re close and his fingers on your clit are the perfect addition to push you over the edge. Body stiffening, you start to cry out while your walls lock down around his cock.

As soon as you start to clamp down on his cock, he’s gone. His cock twitches as you squeeze him, soak him in your cum, and he pushes deep as he finds his own orgasm. He groans your name and paints your walls with his seed despite you being full of his child already. “Fuck, I love you.” He pants out, chest heaving as his heart pounds.

You moan softly, wishing you could caress his cheek and kiss his lips, but it’s impossible without crushing your stomach. “I love you too.” You promise, knowing that Dieter isn’t just saying it in the moment. He’s never said it before now, not even playing around but both of you know that you love each other. It’s just never been a pressing issue to declare it.

He pulls out of you, shifting your legs down off his shoulders, and he slumps down on the bed next to you. He wastes no time cupping your cheek to turn your head so he can softly kiss you. "I love you." He repeats, wanting you to know he means it.

“I know you do.” You smile and reach up to rub your fingers through his hair like he loves. “It’s always been so easy between us, natural, you know?” You shrug. “I love the life we have together even if it stays just like this.”

Dieter nudges his nose against yours, loving how you curl around him, and his hand caresses your bump. "Me too. I love how you let me be me without expectations."

“Only thing I ever expect from you is honesty.” You both agreed that there was no need to sleep with anyone else, you didn’t want to risk the baby by picking up an STI, and Dieter felt the same. Only thing you ever asked was that if he ever wanted something you couldn’t provide, that he was honest about it.

"Always." He promises and that's the truth. He's never lied to you, never felt like he had to. Even when he said he was horny and asked you to peg him, you never judged him for it and promised him you'd try it once the baby is born. A harness wouldn't work with your bump in the way. "She's kicking again." Dieter chuckles, "and we need to decide on her name."

“Diedra?” You tease, wrinkling your nose playfully when he huffs and rolls his eyes at you. “Everyone will think that you are vain enough to name her after yourself.” You had found out it was a little girl and Dieter has been over the moon about having a little girl to spoil. You even think he might become overprotective of her.

"Where the fuck did you get that name?" He snorts, playfully shaking his head at you. "I'm not being a typical celebrity and naming my kid 'Apple' or some shit either. How about...Holly. Since we met in Hollywood?"

“It’s sweet.” You actually love it, leaning in and pecking his lips. “Oh.” You hiss when a little stab of pain rushes across your belly. “That hurt.” You hum, reaching down and rubbing your stomach.

Dieter frowns, brow furrowed as you wince and he feels the baby shifting. "Is that - did she kick?" He asks and you shake your head, "I think - maybe a contraction." You confess and Dieter's eyes widen. "Shit. Really?" His chest tightens as the reality sets in. "Are you in labor?"

“Maybe it’s the false labor pains.” You suggest, shrugging slightly. You are close to your due date, but your stomach hasn’t dropped like everyone has said you would. “But we can go to the hospital if you want to make sure everything’s okay.”

"Shouldn't we time the contractions? I don't think the hospital will take us until you're further along." Despite his persona, Dieter has taken becoming a father very seriously and he has done a lot of reading and research.

“Okay.” You giggle at his slightly frown and kiss him again. “We will wait, although I guess I should take a bath since we will have someone staring at my vagina soon.” You tease, winking at him. “I know you like the cream pie look, but maybe I should clean up? Will you help me shave?”

Dieter chuckles, pleased with himself, "hey, that's what got us into this in the first place." He smirks and takes your hand after shuffling off the bed to help you up. "Do you want a snack? I saw some oreos in the kitchen. You can have a bath, I can help you shave, and then we will time the contractions."

“Ohhhh we need to stop and get snacks on the way to the hospital.” Your eyes turn to him, begging with the most pitiful expression. “Please?”

Dieter nods, unable to deny you anything, and he guides you into the bathroom. He bends down to turn on the bath, testing the water before he grabs the bubble bath to pour some in for you. “You feeling okay, baby?” He asks while the water is running, rubbing your back with one hand and your bump with the other.

“Yeah.” You’ve had another little twinge, but it’s not as bad as the first one and you think that was just the baby shoving her foot in your rib. “You spoil me.”

Dieter rolls his eyes, “you ain’t asking for a Birkin. You’re the mother of my kid. You get whatever you want.” He promises, leaning in to kiss you. “Whenever you want.” He adds, kissing your jaw. “Gotta jerk off for a while until you are cleared and want me again.” He reminds you playfully, “if you want me again.”

“What’s wrong with my hand?” You huff. “Or my mouth?” You smirk. “We will make sure that you are taken care of until I can sit on your cock again. That’s if you want me. Remember you said you wanted to watch me give birth. Might change the way you look at my pussy.”

Dieter immediately shakes his head, “never. She’s gorgeous and I will always love her. But I can use my own hand and if you suck me off, I’m gonna make sure you get taken care of too.” He promises, never wanting you to feel like he’s taking advantage.

“We take care of each other.” You agree. “But I love making you cum, so don’t worry about that. We will both be exhausted.”

Dieter nods, reaching out to turn off the tap once the bath is halfway full. He dunks his hand in to test the water and then turns towards you. “Come here baby, you get in and I’ll get your Oreo’s.” He winks and you nod, letting him guide you into the water, careful as you squeeze his hands. He waits until you’re settled and makes his way through the house to grab your snacks and he comes back, quickly sinking into the water and he hands you the cookies.

“Fuck I love Oreos almost as much as I love you.” You tease after biting into one of the cookies. You moan softly at the taste and smile. “Clean up and triple check our bags to make sure we have everything.”

He nods, watching you as you balance some oreos on your bump. He chuckles, biting into his cookie as he leans back against the edge of the tub. “You’ve had some weird cravings but this is one of my favorites.” He says as he pops the rest of the cookie into his mouth.

“You’re weird.” You snort, sticking your tongue out at him and laughing when he starts to laugh. You both love to tease, although you never take offense to it. “Of course our kid is going to want pickles and ice cream.” You roll your eyes and eat another cookie.

He snorts, “true. I used to eat the weirdest combinations when I was high.” He admits, watching you as you chew until you wince, hand flying to your stomach. “Another contraction?”

“Yeah.” You take a deep breath and let it out with a shaky laugh. “I think it just hit me how real this is.” You admit. The entire pregnancy had been almost surreal. After the filming, Dieter had convinced you to take some time off, focus on your health and the baby. You didn’t have any expenses now that you lived with him and he refused to let you pay for a thing. Promising you that even if you wanted to be a stay at home mom, you wouldn’t want for a thing. Now the reality of actually having a baby is hitting home.

Dieter nods, shifting to caress your feet, working on massaging your soles. “You’re gonna be an amazing mama.” He reassures you, “and I’m going to be there for every second. I’m putting my all into this.” He promises, “you and Holly…you’re my world. Even an Oscar doesn’t match how this makes me feel.”

For Dieter, that is high praise. You moan softly when he presses just right into your sore feet. “You’re gonna be a fantastic daddy.” You predict. “Holly is going to have you wrapped around her finger and there’s not going to be anything you wouldn’t do for her.”

Dieter smiles, hoping you’re right, and he’s going to try so hard to be the best father and partner he can be. He continues to massage your feet, “how you feeling, mama? Any contractions?”

“I think so.” You huff and rub your stomach. “Either that or she’s digging those Dieter-like toes into my ribs.” You tease, reaching your other hand under the water and pinching his elongated toe.

“Hey! My toes are sexy according to the Internet!” He defends himself playfully with a pout. “Eat your oreos then we will get out and get everything ready.”

“Of course baby.” You eat another Oreo and sigh as Dieter lathers up a pair of gloves and starts to wash your body for you. “Oh I’m getting the full treatment today, huh?”

He grins, “of course. Gotta have you looking your best for our baby girl’s grand entrance.” He winks and gently washes you, rubbing his gloved hand over your bump. “Want you to be relaxed until the pain really starts.” He murmurs, shifting closer so he can gently clean your chest.

Dieter had once told you that he was a shitty partner, but you’ve never had that experience. From the very beginning he’s been chill and giving and it’s only gotten better through your pregnancy. Perhaps he’s matured, or the relationship is just what he needs. He has even drastically cut back on his drug usage. “That feels so good baby, you take such good care of me.” You hum. “Do you want the Doula at the hospital?” He had consulted midwives and a doula, while you also insisted that your child be born in a hospital with your OB doctor in charge. You had both agreed that the health of your little girl was the most important thing.

Dieter nods, “I already texted her when I got your oreos. She’s on standby for when we go to the hospital.” He reveals and continues to wash you. “I called the hospital and the private suite is ready for you whenever you feel like you want to go.” He informs you softly, tummy fluttering with excitement and anxiety. He’d usually be taking a pill to calm himself down but he doesn’t want to be high for the birth of his daughter.

“You’re the best.” You coo and eat your last cookie happily. Munching on it as he leans you forward to wash your back. You know that it’s such a celebrity thing, but the security is better in the private suite and no reporters are even allowed on the floor, so Dieter doesn’t have to worry about being ambushed. “I think that I’m good right now.” Right on cue, another small contraction makes you hiss.

Dieter rubs your back, knowing this is just the beginning. “You wanna stand up so I can shave you, babe?” He suggests once he’s finished washing you off and you nod. He stands up first, taking your hands to help you up and he places your hand on the bar on the wall for stability while he finds the razor and shaving cream. “You want it bare or leave some for decoration?” He asks as he settles back into the water.

“I think you should leave a little landing strip.” You hum. “Plus if it’s bare and I start itching, I’m going to be miserable.” It’s also because Dieter loves a little hair on his pussy, as you had learned the first day fucking him. It was refreshing to not have to wax all the time and worry about razor rash.

He nods, “sensible.” He murmurs, shuffling closer so he can start shaving you. He bites his lip, careful to not nick your skin and he focuses on creating a beautiful landing strip for you. “Lift your leg baby.” He orders, helping you place your foot on the ledge.

Never in a million years would you think that Dieter Bravo would be carefully shaving your pussy lips. But he does a good job of it, treating you gently and caressing your ass as he holds you steady. “How does it look? Camera ready?” You joke, knowing he wants to film the birth.

He smirks, leaning in to press a kiss to your mound, ducking his head beneath your bump. “Oscar winner ready.” He promises, playfully smacking your ass. “Want you to be as ready as possible for this. I know you’re scared.”

“Wouldn’t you be?” You snort, shaking your head as he helps you step out of the tub. “You push a watermelon out of your pee hole and tell me it wouldn’t scare you?” You know that’s not exactly anatomically correct, but he laughs with you like you expected him to. “Help me dry off?” You ask, knowing that he will. These days it’s hard to see your feet, let alone dry your ankles.

He nods, pulling the plug, and he steps out of the bath onto the mat. He reaches for your hands, helping you out, and he immediately reaches for a towel to start drying you off. He kneels down, drying every part of you, tenderly drying your bump, and he dries himself off before he tosses the towel. “Let’s get you lotioned up.”

“It puts the lotion on the skin.” You intone playfully, giggling. “You take such good care of me, our little girl is going to come out expecting foot rubs and special treatment.”

Dieter chuckles as he grabs the bottle and starts to rub the lotion into your skin. He’s done this nightly since your bump started to show. “She’s going to be our princess.” He promises, “and she will be spoiled by us.” He rubs the lotion into your bump.

There’s more pain, but it’s not as bad as you expected and about half the time, you don’t even wince in pain. You take your time getting dressed and rechecking your bag, until you feel like you're not forgetting anything. “I guess we can go now.” You admit. “But stop for snacks on the way?”

He nods, knowing that you want some Cheetos before you give birth. He grabs your bag and his and makes his way out to his car. He will drive now that he’s driving you and his unborn child around. He wants to be in control. He guides you out into the garage and he helps you into the car, his heart rate quickening now that he knows this is happening. His baby will be born soon. “You comfortable?” He asks as you settle in the passenger seat.

“Yeah, I’m good.” Your back is killing you but the heated seats in Dieter’s car is helping soothe the pain. He had automatically turned it on for you, showing you again how much he cares about your wellbeing.

He double checks you have everything before he pulls out of the garage, closing it, and the gate to his driveway opens so he can begin the journey to the hospital. He taps his fingers on the steering wheel, glasses on his nose as you hiss when a contraction hits. “You okay, baby? They are getting closer.” You nose, clenching your jaw, and Dieter presses his foot on the gas. “Don’t worry baby. We will be there - shit.” He hisses when he hits traffic and he immediately pulls a u-turn but a few miles down the road, he hits traffic again.

“It’s okay, don’t worry.” You take a deep breath, knowing that it’s going to be a long day before you hold your baby. You are hours away from ‘true labor’, so you aren’t worried. Pointing at a gas station as the traffic crawls along slowly, you huff. “Pull in there and we can get the snacks. Maybe traffic will be better by then.”

He nods, unable to deny you anything, and he pulls into the gas station. He doesn’t need gas so he pulls into a parking spot and cuts the engine. He rounds the car, holding his hands out to help you out.

“Ohhhhh snacks and then I’m gonna need to pee.” You predict, starting to feel the pressure in your lower stomach. “It shouldn’t take too long.” You lean in and press your lips to his. “I love you baby.”

“Okay babe.” Dieter nods, baseball cap on his head as he follows you into the store and you begin grabbing snacks. You toss them at him and he shuffles them in his arms, “is that everything?” He chuckles and you nod, “oh I really need to pee.” “Go, I’ll get these.” He orders and makes his way over to the register while you waddle down the hall to the bathroom.

It feels like you are about to pee on yourself. Making you pant slightly as you try to hurry. “Oh shit, oh shit.” The handle is stuck and you have to wrestle with it for a moment before you finally push the door open. “Fuuuuuuck.” You are rushing to pull your shorts and panties down when you feel a gush of liquid running down to your legs.

Dieter pays for your snacks and frowns when he realizes you’re taking so long. He walks down the hall to the bathroom, “baby. Are you taking a shit?” He asks after knocking on the door.

Your knuckles are aching, you are clenching the edge of the sink so hard. “Dieter.” You gasp out his name when you hear him outside the door. “My- my water broke!” You cry out when another wave of pain hits you and makes your knees buckle. “I think the baby’s coming!”

“Oh shit.” Dieter gasps, dropping the bag of snacks. “Baby, can you open the door?” He wiggles the handle but it’s locked. “Come on, babe. You gotta open the door for me.”

“I-I-“ you bite your lip and groan again. The waves of pain just keep coming and you are scared to let go of the sink. “Deeeee.” You whimper as you turn and reach for the handle. You don’t even remember locking it, but it might have happened. Grabbing the handle, you twist it down and yank as another contraction rips through you.

He tries the door but it won’t open. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He panics and he rushes to the cashier, “do you have a key for the bathroom? I need - my girlfriend. She’s pregnant. She’s in there and I need to open the door. I think she’s having the baby.” He rushes out and the attendants eyes widen. She fumbles, grabbing the key, and rushes down the hall to try and unlock the door. “Shit.” She hisses as it won’t open and Dieter growls. “Fuck!” He paces for a second, “baby. I need you to get away from the door.” You gasp in pain but manage to shuffle along the floor until you’re out of the way of the door. Dieter inhales deeply, letting out a huff as he surges, throwing his entire body weight into the door and it doesn’t budge. “Holy fucking shit.” He cries as pain radiates on the right side of his body. “Call an ambulance.” He orders, “and the fire department. Now!” He yells and the attendant nods but hands Dieter the key. “Lemme try.” She says and Dieter is about to protest but she kicks her leg on the door handle and the door flings open. “Goddamn that was awesome.” He mutters at the woman who is grabbing her phone to call 911. Dieter hears your cry and scrambles inside the bathroom. You’re on your hands and knees, half stripped off, and swear on your forehead. “It’s so hot.” You complain, rocking on your hands, and Dieter caresses your back. “It’s okay, baby. I, uh, how you feeling?” He asks, heart pounding.

“Like the baby is coming.” You pant, shaking your head. “I thought I had to pee. It- it didn’t feel like I was that far.” You want him to believe you, to know that you didn’t plan for this to happen. “Look down there.” It feels like you are swollen and you are worried that something is wrong. “Deeeeee.” Your upper body collapses as you scream out his name, grunting against your hands.

His eyes widen comically and he watches you as you scream. “Fuck. Okay. Uh, I’ll check.” He murmurs and shifts to look down between your legs. “Oh shit. There’s - I can see a head.” He reveals, “what do I do?” He panics, knowing he’s practiced changing diapers but not this. “You’re gonna - fuck- have to - deliver her.” You pant and the attendant comes into the bathroom to find you on the floor and Dieter between your legs. “How you doing honey? The ambulance is on the way. They got stuck in the traffic too so they will be here as soon as possible.” She promises and Dieter looks at her with wide, panicked eyes, “I can see a head.” She nods, “okay, I’ll get towels and hot water.” She seems like she’s done this before, “I delivered a baby years ago by accident so I’ll try and help the best I can. You just gotta breathe in and out, sugar.” She orders you but it’s Dieter who inhales deeply.

Dieter helps you slowly turn over onto your back. “Oh fuck, I didn’t- didn’t think that I would be having a baby in a fucking gas station bathroom.” You pant out, watching Dieter grab your shorts and put them under your ass. “Dee-“ you clench your teeth. “You gotta catch her!” You start to push again when the feeling becomes too much.

He watches as the baby’s head is born and he holds his hands out, “you’re doing so good baby. So good.” He promises, watching you cry out as the pain overwhelms you. “Take a breath and push when you feel it.” He says despite having no idea what he’s doing. The gas station attendant comes back with towels and hot water and Dieter grabs the towel to catch the baby. “One more push and our girl is here.” He says, “you’re so brave. I’m so proud of you.”

“I really wanted the druuuuuuuuuuuugs!” You bear down with all your might when you feel a little pop and the pressure is instantly relieved. “Is she here?” You ask immediately, pushing yourself up onto your elbows as Dieter gasps and fumbles between your legs. “Dee?” Your heart stops when you don’t hear the baby cry but then you hear a tiny squeak and then a much louder wail and you sigh in relief.

Dieter stares in shock, awe, and horror at the baby in his hands. She’s tiny and she’s wailing. “Baby. She’s - she’s here.” He chokes, wrapping her in the towel, and he immediately shifts to hand her to you after you’ve shifted to your back. “She’s beautiful.” He chokes, tears in his eyes as he watches you cradle the baby.

“Oh my God.” You whisper. “Dee, you have to tie off the umbilical cord.” You remind him. “Use your shoelace.”

He fumbles, pulling the shoe lace from his sneakers and he wraps it around the cord, tears streaming down his cheeks as he looks at you holding his baby. She cries, nuzzling into your chest, and Dieter shuffles closer so he can see and he kisses your sweaty forehead. “You did it. You’re - you’re incredible.” He chokes, reaching down to gently caress her cheek as she cries.

“I’m so sorry.” Your own tears are of relief and gratitude that she seems healthy. “I didn’t think I was that far into labor.” You promise. “I never would have asked you to stop for snacks if I had known.” You jostle the baby gently and lower your tank top to unclip the top of the nursing bra you had started wearing to get used to. “Ohhhhh.” You shift her to your breast and she roots around for a moment before latching onto your nipple greedily. “You wanted to eat, baby girl? Hungry already? Being born is hard work, isn’t it?”

Dieter shakes his head, leaning in to kiss your cheek and he rests his head against yours as he watches Holly. “It’s okay. She’s okay. You’re okay.” He murmurs almost to reassure himself that nothing has gone wrong by this unexpected twist. The EMTs rush down the hall and stand in the doorway, eyes wide at the sight of you sitting on the floor with a baby in your arms.

The next half hour is a blur of questions and medical necessity as they haul in a stretcher and transfer you and Holly to it. They have to deliver the afterbirth and it’s obvious that they recognize Dieter as he hovers as close as possible to you. “Baby, leave the car and ride to the hospital with me.” You urge him, wanting him close.

Dieter nods, knowing he doesn’t want to be parted from you right now. His manager can call someone to pick up his car, and he rides in the ambulance with you. His hand in yours as you cradle the baby. “Are you Dieter Bravo?” The paramedic asks and Dieter nods, “yeah. Uh, this is my wife.” He says without thinking. That’s what he considers you anyway. Even if you don’t have the official paperwork.

You barely even catch what he said, so obsessed with the little girl in your arms. The gas station towel has been exchanged for a softer blanket and you love that she is curled up on your chest, skin to skin. “When we get to the hospital, you need to hold her against your skin, Dee. Let her get used to your smell and bond with you.” You look up at him and beam. “She already knows your voice.”

He falls in love with you even more in that moment. “Of course, baby.” He leans in to kiss you softly, his hand cradling the baby’s back. “How are you feeling?” He asks you, “I know that was traumatic.”

You snort, the birth almost forgotten as you hold your daughter. “Honestly?” You grin up at him. “I wish you had grabbed the bag of snacks.” You admit, making the paramedic riding in back with you chuckle.

Dieter grins, “don’t worry, baby. We will get you allll the snacks you want.” He promises, “you just had a baby in a 7-Eleven.” He snorts and the ambulance pulls up outside the hospital. The doors open and there’s a doctor and nurse waiting but beyond that are photographers. “Shit.” Dieter grunts, realizing someone must’ve leaked the news in the gas station.

“It’s okay.” You know that look on his face and you reach over and squeeze his hand. “People just want to know that your baby is here.” You remind him. “Promise them pictures later on.”

He nods, feeling his anxiety spike, and he’s grateful it looks like the hospital security is holding them back but photos will be taken. “We will get you in there as quickly as possible.” The EMTS promise and Dieter nods, palms sweaty as his heart starts to pound.

“Just stay beside me and Holly.” You murmur, seeing how uneasy he is. He’s not been so protective that you could go outside, he’s just been wary of letting the paps get so close to you while you’ve been pregnant. You had been in your own little protective bubble. “We will get inside and everything will be good.”

He listens to you reassuring him and he squeezes your hand, following you out of the ambulance as people call his name and shout questions at him. His stomach twists but he focuses on you and Holly as he rushes into the hospital where the administrator is immediately guiding you to the private suite that was booked for you.

There is another flurry of activity and you hate it, but you have to let them take Holly to check her over. Although she doesn’t leave the suite. Meanwhile, another team of doctors is looking you over. All three of you are fitted with security bands to make sure no one could possibly take Holly out of the ward without alarms blaring and security locking down the hospital.

Dieter feels like he can breathe again and he inhales deeply as he watches the doctors and nurses rush around you and Holly. He sits down in the chair in the corner until Holly is back in your arms and you turn to him, "take your shirt off. She wants her daddy." He swallows, reaching up to pull his shirt over his head, and he holds his hands out to take the baby. You slide her into his hands and he so gently takes her over to the chair so he can sit down with her. She's so tiny and he places her on his chest with tears in his eyes.

Your heart melts as you watch Dieter with your daughter, getting your phone and taking a picture of the beautiful scene. He might want to post it on Instagram, but you feel like it will be a picture that is kept for just the two of you. “Both of the people I love most, right here.”

Dieter smiles, looking at you, and he caresses Holly's back as she whimpers, curling into her father's chest. "Hi, little angel." He murmurs, "I'm your daddy." He coos and kisses her head. "She's perfect, baby." He says, looking over at you, "thank you. For everything. I love you. I want...I want you to be my wife." He says when your eyes meet his.

You give him an easy grin, nodding happily and your eyes are slightly watery at the beauty of the moment. It’s not a grand gesture with over the top preparation and false sentiments. It’s real, natural, just like your relationship with dieter has been this entire time. “Then let’s get married.” You agree. “I love you too, Dee. We will make our little family official. Maybe something simple on a beach somewhere?”

“That sounds perfect.” He knows he should have done something more thoughtful and he will. He will get you a ring and do something intimate to propose properly but to know you want to be his wife has his heart swelling almost to the point he thinks it might explode. Holly whimpers and he shifts to stand with her in his hands, carrying her over to you. “Here you go, mama.” He murmurs, sliding her into your arms and he leans in to softly kiss you.

You let the kiss linger, smiling softly against his lip before Holly makes a sound of protest and he pulls away so you can attend to her. “Already jealous of daddy’s attention.” You tease, making him grin proudly. “I love you, Dee.” You murmur softly. “I’m so glad that I went to your house that day.”

"Me too." He nudges his nose against your hair and he looks down at the baby in your arms. "That day changed my life. You changed my life. I love you, baby." He murmurs, knowing that this is his new role. He wants to be a good father and husband. Something he never imagined he'd be cast for but a piece of paper and a beautiful woman who appeared on his doorstep wanting his signature changed everything.

#pedro pascal characters #dieter bravo #tbr #angst #friends with benefits #secret relationship #dieter fic #daddy dieter #unexpected delivery fic #oneshot

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