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l0ngschl0ngking · 1 year

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(Met) In the restroom

Dieter Bravo x f!reader

summary: Dieter looks good. Good enough that you let him fuck you in the public restroom at Met Gala

warnings: SMUT (vaginal fingering, oral-f!receiving, semi-public sex, mirror sex, unprotected p in v, spitting, biting, dirty talk, hair pulling, choking), cursing and fluff

word count: 3.8k (surprirse, surprise -quite short for me :D)

A/N: when I saw this look I instantly thought of Dieter. And you know I had to get this out of my head

It was unfair how good he looked tonight. Too good. And he knew it. He also knew you were watching him the whole night - catching your gaze a few times and sending you his signature cocky smirk or a sultry wink. And god, did that make you want to grab him and fuck his brains out right there on the carpet in front of all the other people.

His -other times- unruly hair was now slicked back enchanting his sharp features. His sharp jawline and aquiline nose were even more prominent from the side. You watched as he scratched the bald patch in his salt and pepper beard - the spot where you knew he was sensitive, always shuddering after you kissed him there.

You never saw Dieter dress up much - he loved his loose sweatpants and robes too much and felt comfortable in them so it was a rare treat to see him like this.

The thing that drove you the wildest though were the black shorts. You thought it looked silly when you first saw him arrive but after watching him longer and longer, watching how he strode on the red carpet with confidence made you reconsider. He pulled it off well and oh, you were thanking whoever decided on his outfit because his muscular thighs on display had you sweating in your dress.

The flash of cameras and people shouting and calling your name was something you got used to after the years. It came in handy sometimes. Like right now as you ignored them and watched Dieter as he talked to one of his co-stars on the current film he had been working in. He laughs and the corners of his eyes crinkle, his hand coming to rest on her waist as photographers quickly take pictures of the two of them. And you shouldn't feel jealous - you and Dieter weren't in a relationship. But still, the possessiveness that quickly washes over you is something you aren't proud of so you turn around, your back now facing them as you smile and wave at the people.

And maybe, just maybe you would feel a little bashful watching him like he was a piece of meat all night. But you knew Dieter. And he certainly did enjoy the attention you gave him - his posture always straightened whenever he saw you looking at him, his chest puffing in pride. Because even though he did not show it as much as you, he was affected by you in that pretty dress you were wearing tonight more than he’d liked to admit. You weren’t the only one with dirty thoughts swimming through your mind.

You and Dieter met on the set of Cliff Beasts 6. It was a silly project but your agent said it would get you places - it didn’t, not really. You met the Dieter Bravo and suddenly it was even worst than you anticipated because now you had to be in quarantine with him.

You two definitely weren’t the best buddies right off the start. Dieter is an "over-the-top" kind of guy and downright childish. Not a lot of people can stand him. He knows it. Maybe that’s why he got into acting. Pretending to be someone else every once in a while because nobody liked the real him.

He snorts coke in his free time and fucks anything that moves on two legs. So when he asked you with his puppy dog eyes and pouty lips if you wanted to sleep with him you immediately blew him off. But he was persistent, actually spending time with you and getting to know you - mostly because you were the only one who actually wanted to spend time with him even after he basically asked you multiple times if you’d allow him to “stick his glow stick into your dark cave”. And after a while, you got used to his eccentric persona and to be quite honest, you even enjoyed spending time with him. He was like a breath of fresh air.

One night you got drunk together - neither of you were good at holding your liquor.

That was all it took before you were in his room, your ass up in the air as he drilled into you from behind. And honestly, you never expected Dieter Bravo to make you cum three times in a row in one night. He was everything you’d thought he’d never be - attentive, passionate, eager to please. Also vocal. Very vocal.

And so you kept on sleeping with each other - even after the wrap of Cliff Beasts. You came to his, he came to yours. You fucked and then one of you left the other’s apartment. It was just that - release. Nothing more. But after a while, you started having breakfasts together, then it came to you keeping some of your belongings in his apartment, you just chatting as you watched him paint in his studio - you actually figured out Dieter was a smart guy if he wasn’t high, movie nights, dinner dates at home…you eventually moved in but neither of you would ever admit that.

For fuck’s sake, you weren’t even sure if you were dating or not. Dieter was scared of commitment, that much you learned from spending time with him, so you never pushed. And you were comfortable with it - no labels on your relationship, no pressure, no public exposure, no paparazzi or magazines that would start drama.

But at the moments like these - where he was pretending you didn’t even exist and you tried to do the same - you wished that you would go public. That you two would be now together here - as a couple. But alas, it was just your wishful thinking.

And before you know what is happening, a hand snakes its way onto your waist, a familiar cologne fills your nostrils and makes your heart skip a beat. You slowly turn your head to look at him and he squeezes your waist tighter, the rings on his fingers digging into your flesh, as he mutters a quick: “Smile for the cameras, sweetheart.”

You want to ask him what does he think he is doing but the words die on your tongue when he pulls you closer to his side. And so you do as he says, his touch sears its way onto your skin and yeah, you were in big trouble. Because fuck buddies definitely didn’t make eachother feel how he made you feel right now - like a fucking teenager whose crush smiled at them for the first time. Minutes pass, you aren’t sure, as his hands finally leave your waist and you think you are able to finally breathe again. Before he leaves, his hands brush against your lower back, his breath hitting your neck - you can smell the mint gum he chewed before he got here.

“I can’t wait to fuck the sweet cunt of yours tonight, sweetheart. You look so good in this dress.”

And with that, he leaves. Leaving you with your mouth wide open and your gaze burning into his back. But it does make you feel better - you would be the one who he was leaving with tonight. You would be the one who'd feel his plush lips on your skin, his tongue tracing your curves. You would be the one who'd ride the muscular thigh of his tonight because Dieter loves when you use him for your own pleasure. You would be the one who would make him cum and hear his pretty pleas and whines, and groans because they were only for your ears to hear.

Yeah, you had problems.

The afterparty makes you loosen up a little. You chat and laugh, drink expensive champagne and for a moment, totally forget about Dieter Bravo. You don’t see him, the room is crowded and loud as people talk. One of your friends leaves the table to get another glass for the two of you when you spot him - your eyes narrowing as he laughs at something one of his female co-workers says as she grabs him by the bicep and he is already looking at you from the corner of his eye, his mustache lifts upwards with the little smirk he throws you.

And you do need to get away because it’s not about you being jealous - even though you hate the fact. It’s about him toying with you and you not being able to do anything about it. Because what could you do? You never said you two would be exclusive and it hurts. It hurts because you have no right to be jealous - he isn’t yours. Oh, how freaking stupid you were to tangle up with Bravo.

You enter the restroom - it’s spacious and clean and it smells nothing like restrooms. More like lavender? You see your reflection in the mirror - she doesn’t look like you. Were you so desperate for a man that did not want you? That he was so afraid of being seen in public with you he rather flirted with anyone else but you? You put your purse on the edge of the ceramic sink and lean your hands on it, breathing in as you look down into it. You hear the door open and close quickly before you hear the lock click but you pay it no mind. When you look back in the mirror you yelp - jumping in the air comically. He chuckles and grabs your hips so he can spin you around and face him.

You don’t have a time to ask him what is he doing as his lips are already on your neck - you can feel him smile into your flesh when his tongue traces your collarbones and a quiet moan escapes from your mouth, your fingers gripping his coat and you pull him away from you because you can’t do this anymore. Sneaking around, only stealing a few minutes of time sometimes. His brown eye search for yours as he looks at you confused, pupils blown wide, his tongue quickly coming out to lick his lower lip. You do not dare to look at him.

“I think we should end this.” the room falls silent. You can only hear the music from outside the door and your beating heart that needs to call the fuck down. He pulls away from you completely, his expression more heartbroken than shocked.

“What? Why?” It hurts to hear him say it like that - his voice quiet as he almost chokes on the words. He looks like a kid that just broke his favorite toy. He waits and when you don’t answer hurt quickly turns into anger, his face hardening. “Just tell me why and then I’ll leave you alone.” His voice is monotoned without any traces of emotion and it’s scary how much of a good actor he can be. It spikes anger in your guts in return - for him to dismiss it just like that. You don’t want him to leave you alone. Is he blind? Why can’t he see it?

“Because, Bravo. I can’t stand another second pretending we don’t know eachother in public while at home you practically whine for me to not leave. I am tired of pretending that I don’t care when you flirt with other people. I am tired of pretending that what we have between us is just some “let’s fuck” deal. I am tired of pretending that I don’t have feelings for you. And I am tired of pretending that you might care for me where in reality you clearly don’t.”

Your chest heaves and he looks at you as if you had grown a second head. The Dieter Bravo that has always something to say now falls quiet and it makes the insides of you burn with anger because how dare he walk into your life and fuck you, make you feel like he cares and when you finally confess just stare at you?

“You have nothing to say now, Bravo? Really? That’s oh, so great because-“

“Shut up.” He grits through his teeth and your mouth falls open. Did he just say you should shut up? Fuck him.

“Fuck you. Don’t tell me what to do you prick.” You jab into his chest, solid under your fingertips and he doesn’t even move a muscle as you do. ”I pour my heart out for you and you-“

You squeal when his hand moves on the back of your neck pulling you close, his mouth finding yours and he breathes you in. His eyes fall tightly shut as you moan into his mouth and his tongue strokes yours. It’s different than the other times you’ve kissed. It’s passionate and desperate - but not in a sexual way.

It’s intimate and his other hand slowly strokes your hip, his thumb smoothing the fabric of your dress and goosebumps erupt on your skin as you feel his rings on the back of your neck - digging into your flesh with the need to pull you closer into him. Your lower back collides with the counter and he hoists you up on it - your feet now dangling in the air as he pulls his mouth away from yours and settles between your legs.

His eyes are soft and his thumb strokes your cheekbone, a soft smile on his lips makes your heart do a somersault in your chest. His forehead bumps with yours and you smile too when he whispers: “I have feelings for you too, sweetheart.”

And then he is kissing you again, his hands finding the zipper of your dress before he expertly pulls it down and the material of it pools at your waist, his hands instantly coming to hold your tits, his thumbs stroking your nipples and the cold of the rings makes you gasp. He smiles into your neck, his mustache scraping you as he trails soft kisses from your jaw to the juncture of your neck and bites you there, your keen into his touch as you moan, his tongue soothing the assaulted flesh with ease. He is quick to undress you completely -the dress falling onto the ground and he kneels on it, his mouth kissing your inner thighs, his teeth scraping you, his hands exploring and mapping your body before they settle onto your hips as he taps two times so you’d lift up a little. He hooks his fingers into your panties before they are off you too and he is kissing your mound.

Your hands fall into his slicked hair and he moans when you grab him by it and pull him closer to your cunt, his fingers quickly finding their way into his mouth before he pulls them out and shows you the saliva-covered digits as the ring shines with it before he slowly enters you with two of them and you throw your head back, your grip tightening in his hair as he kisses your clit.

The pass of his fingers inside you is slow, languid as if he had all the time in the world and wasn’t just fucking you in the restroom of Met Gala. It makes your core floods with arousal - that anybody could hear you two. His fingers dig into your hip while his others work their way in and out and before you know it he is babbling into your core - his hot mouth still lazily kissing your clit, his tongue poking out to lick you.

“You dirty little girl. This is what you wanted, right? Is that it, sweetheart? You wanted me to fuck you where anybody could hear?” You squeeze around him, your fingers digging into his scalp and he hisses your name, his cock aching in his shorts as the only thing he can do is hump the air. “Oh, you like that. You dirty little thing. You’d want me to fuck you somewhere anybody could walk in?” You whine and nod, looking down at him and he smirks. His eyes glazed as you watch his tongue lick you slowly. Because he knows you have a bit of exhibitionism kink - he figured out when he fucked you against the glass walls of his apartment telling you what a “Dirty girl you are. Letting me fuck you where anybody could see the two of us.” You came almost instantly when the words left his mouth and he kept this information in the back of his mind.

Your thighs shake around his head and that’s when your mouth opens into a silent “o” as he spits onto your pussy and slurps at you, the filthy sounds coming from him making your inside squeeze him tighter and you can feel that you are close, your eyes rolling in the back of your head when you feel the deep rumble coming from his chest.

Dieter Bravo was godly at eating out pussy and he enjoyed it too. You can feel it even now as he enthusiastically pulls his fingers in and out of you, speeding the movements of his tongue and fingers when you squeal, your toes curling and he knows he found the spot. It only takes two or three passes of his tongue before you are cumming and he grins into your mound when you try to push his head away. He takes the fingers that were in you mere moments ago into your mouth to “clean his rings” before he is pulling them out and kissing you - the taste of you on him makes you kiss him deeper, your tongue tracing his teeth and he smiles into the kiss.

“I like it when you are jealous.” You want to protest - tell him you aren’t. Lie to him. Rile him up. But he puts you back on your jelly feet and you are met with your fucked out expression. He isn’t any better though - his pupils blown back wide and his slicked hair disheveled because of you.

He crowds you in - his hard cock that still strains in his shorts presses against your bare cunt and you moan, your head falling back onto his shoulder. The fabric of his shorts makes your thighs tremble and you are sure if he keeps this up you will cum again. Your hazy brain stops working alongside your mouth when you say: “I want to ride your thigh tonight while I hold onto the coat. You look so good in that outfit.” And he stops. You hear a choked sound behind you and then the zipper of his shorts before you feel the fat head of his cock notching at your entrance.

“Yeah, fuck yeah, sweetheart. You can ride your sweet pussy on my thigh when we get home. Want you to soak my thigh. Fuck. Want you to get off on it while I watch you.” He whimpers as he slides his head between your pussy lips. When he enters you it knocks the air out of your lungs. No matter how many times you two fuck, you will never get used to the size of him.

His fingers dig into your hip as he sets relentless pace, his hips smacking against your ass and his other snakes into your hair and tugs at it harshly -making you open your eyes and your gaze meets with his in the mirror.

“Yeah, watch how I fuck you. You are so filthy, sweetheart. Letting me split you open right here on my big fat cock.” He spits.

You watch as your tits bounce with every pass of his cock. You see his throat bob and the small droplet of sweat running down his temple. You see the vein on his neck is now prominent, his teeth barred for you two to see as he looks down where you two join and he moans -his head falling back and his hand that was gripping your hair now pinching your nipples. He is attentive and he can feel you squeezing him again. He knows you're close and he grinds against you -his pubic hair stimulating your clit and he grabs you by the throat, his teeth catching your earlobe. You feel the puffs of air leave his mouth. It’s hot and sweaty and you swear you never felt this good in your entire life before.

“Watch how I fuck you silly with my cock. Who do you belong to?” You cry out when a particular rough thrust makes you see stars and he groans as you squeeze him. He is close too, sweating under the coat and shirt. “Come on, tell me, sweetheart.” He grits out and he sucks at the skin on your neck, marking you.

“Yours!” You cry out and he hums, his fingers squeezing around your windpipe tighter and your hand comes back to fist at his hair as you watch his ring-clad fingers hold onto you before you are cumming, tugging him by the hair closer so you can kiss him. It’s messy -teeth and tongues clashing together as he fucks you through it and when you part a string of saliva connects the two of you.

“Yes, that’s right. You are mine. And I am yours, sweetheart. Just yours.” It makes your heart constrict because yeah -he is yours. Yours. Your walls pull him tighter even though you already came and he chokes on air because he is so fucking close. And when you kiss him under the hinge of his jaw and whisper: “I love you.” He is a goner.

Because nobody ever loved Dieter. And you just said you did. And his heart swells because he loves you too. As much as Dieter can actually love somebody.

He cums with a hoarse groan of your name, his hand digging into your ass. He kisses your shoulder blade lazily before he calms down and pulls out of you - putting back on your underwear. And helping you back into the dress. Neither of you looks presentable but neither of you seems to care.

“Want you to drip my cum all night and when we come home I want you to show me before you fuck yourself on my thigh.” Home.

He gives you a chaste kiss on the lips before he checks himself out in the mirror - trying to fix his hair, unsuccessfully, before he leaves you in the bathroom with a silly grin on your face.

You couldn’t wait to get home.

TAGS: @harriedandharassed @bbyanarchist @completelyoverit @cutesyscreenname

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guess-my-next-obsession · 1 year

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Plastic Hearts, Six: Kiss Me, Bad Karma

pairing: dieter bravo x actress!ofc (Violet Apollo)

rating: E (18+ only, feral!dieter, oral (m&f receiving), unprotected piv, talks of alcohol/drug consumption, talks of sobriety)

wc: 4k

series masterlist | dieter masterlist

Dieter stirred awake after the sun had risen and began to peer in through the curtains. Tugging what he thought was Violet close to his chest, he frowned at the object's lack of warmth and curved. He peeled one eye open to find he’d been spooning a pillow, his stare full of disgust for this vile object who’d taken the place of his lover.

Sitting up, Dieter rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his palms before his ears honed in on a whirring sound coming from across the silent home.

“Vi?” he croaked, deep and raspy and nowhere near fully awake.

“In the gym!” she called back, causing a furrow between Dieter’s brows. He didn’t realize he even had a gym.

Dieter found his robe and slippers before slugging out of the master bedroom and into the house in search of this “gym”, finding it behind a door he always assumed was a closet.

Violet was on the treadmill, her face, neck, and chest covered with sweat as she ran, drawing Dieter’s eyes to the bounce of her breasts.

“Eyes up here,” she ordered with a smirk.

“Are you seriously working out right now? It’s like seven in the morning.”

“It’s eleven, babe,” she corrected with another smile. “Besides, I have a strict routine set for me by my trainer that I need to follow—“

“No, what you need to do is let me fuck you,” he interrupted. “That’ll burn enough calories.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” she rolled her eyes and grinned, slowing the treadmill to a stop. She dabbed her face and chest with a towel as she stepped off the machine and walked right up to Dieter, watching him eye her down like a hungry animal. “I’m sweaty.”

“I don’t give a fuck.” His hands were on her, holding her tight to his frame as he leaned in to lick a stripe up her neck, drunk on her taste. “Fuck, baby. Taste so fucking good.”

“D,” she moaned, her hands fumbling with the tie on his robe before undoing it. He groaned against her pulse as she wrapped her fist around his cock, pumping him up and down while he sucked a mark on her neck.

“C’mere,” he whispered, pulling her to follow him as he took a seat on the padded leather bench. As she stood in front of him, he hooked a finger in her leggings and tugged on the waistband. “Take these off.”

“In a minute,” she whispered, sinking to the floor in front of him. Dieter groaned as she kissed her way up his thighs, her tongue following the trail that led to his cock. “I haven’t had breakfast yet.”

“Shit,” he sighed, his head rolling back as she gripped his cock and began to stroke it while taking his balls into her mouth one at a time. “Fuck, V.”

“That feel good, baby?” she asked innocently, her eyes wide as he lifted his head back up to look down at her with an earnest nod and pleasured scowl. “You want more of my mouth?”

“P-please,” he begged, voice as tense and desperate as his now weeping cock as Violet’s fist stroked up and down slowly, her thumb swiping over the mess to help glide her palm against him. “Please, baby, please.”

“Good boy,” Dieter groaned, his cock pulsing in her hand at the praise. Violet grinned as she leaned in and wrapped her lips around his fat tip, her tongue flicking at his arousal that beaded over it. Dieter was a mess now, moaning and begging for more of her as she bobbed on him, taking him deep into her throat until she was gagging. He laid back against the bench, the plushness of his stomach on full display for her, and she couldn’t deny herself the chance to rub her palm over it’s smoothness. Dieter found her spit-soaked hand and clasped it with his as she took him down her throat again, glucking and sputtering until he slid in with ease.

“You’re gonna make me fucking cum, baby,” he whined, squeezing her hand as her mouth worked his cock in tandem with her fist until that tension building in his spine finally snapped, his cum painting her throat as she took him in deep and kept him there. “Shit, shit, shit—fuck!”

She hummed as she swallowed him down, her eyes locking with his as he sat up and cupped both of her cheeks to pull her off of him before immediately crashing his mouth against hers, not caring how sloppy her face was from her job well done.

“Lay back,” he ordered, watching her as she laid back on the floor before following her. He tugged her leggings off and spread her thighs, marveling at the sight of her bare pussy in the bright light of daytime, her body spread out on the floor of his home gym. “You’re so fucking sexy, baby.”

“Please,” she begged as he placed kisses all over her stomach, worshiping it’s soft give beneath his lips. “I didn’t—“

“Didn’t what?” He looked up at her from between her thighs with a smirk. “Didn’t make me beg? I seem to remember differently.”

“Fuck,” she panted, knowing that look in his eyes. “You’re gonna—“

“Uh-huh,” he nodded, placing a kiss against her clit. “Gonna make you beg, baby.”

Dieter’s hands were firm as they gripped the plushness of her thighs, keeping them spread wide open as he placed open mouthed kisses all over except for where she craved him most, working her up to the point of panting.

“D,” she whined, lifting her hips up to reach his mouth as he stared down at her weeping cunt like he was in the presence of the Holy Grail.

“Such a pretty fucking pussy,” he mumbled, leaning down to give her a kitten lick against her seam, Violet’s strangled cry bringing a grin to his face as he pulled away just as she started to grind against his tongue. “Mm, I don’t know if you want it bad enough yet, baby. I haven’t heard any begging.”

“D, please,” she cried, sliding her hand down her body to her clit to alleviate some of the tension building only to be swatted away by Dieter.

“Baby, you can do better than that.”

“Please, please, please, baby,” she started, sitting up on her elbows to look at him. “Please eat my pussy, D. Please, it feels so good when you—oh, fuck.”

Dieter’s tongue splayed flat over her seam, gathering as much of her slick on his tongue as he licked up to her clit. He tensed the tip of his tongue as he swiped circles over her swollen and throbbing clit, slow and deliberate, before sucking it into his mouth with a pulse. Her hand came to thread through his mess of curls, holding him against her as she looked down at him with a pleasured scowl, her mouth wide open in a breathless cry.

“Dieter, fuck, baby,” she moaned, feeling that string in her belly grow taut as he kept up this routine of licking and flicking and sucking on her until her thighs began to shake and clamp shut around his face. “I’m gonna cum, D. I’m—oh, fuck, I’m gonna come!”

“Dieter!” Andrea’s voice sounded from the living room of his London home, making Violet nearly sob as her orgasm was so fucking close.

“Shh,” he whispered, smoothing over her thigh before pressing a finger into her weeping cunt as he continued with his tongue.

“But she—“

“Could be the Queen herself and I’d still make her wait until you came,” he replied, husky and deep. Violet silenced her moans as Dieter built that tension up again with the help of his finger curling against that devastating spot inside of her in time with his tongue stroking over the swell of her clit. “Come on, baby. Cum for me. I wanna taste it—“

“Fuck,” she gasped, her body seizing and shaking as her release finally came with a silent cry. Dieter nodded at her as he pulled away, his finger still stroking her walls as he watched her lay there on the gym floor, high on him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he muttered as he kissed his way up her stomach until he was hovering over her. She opened her eyes and smiled at him, her fingers lifting to comb his hair back.

“You’re beautiful,” she replied, so full of truth and sincerity he almost believed it. Breathing out a chuckle, he leaned down and kissed her lips in a sweet peck before standing up with a grunt. He helped her to her feet and handed her her leggings, watching as she squeezed them on over her hips and ass, the jiggle of her soft skin making it hard for him to want to go out there and attend to business. Throwing on his robe and tying it, he walked over to the mirrors lining the home-gym wall and checked himself for any obvious signs of having just buried his face in America’s Sweetheart’s cunt.

“Dieter, where are you?” Andrea called again and this time Violet answered.

“We’re coming!” she called back and Dieter smirked at her choice in words as he turned around to face her, earning an eye roll. “I meant literally.”

“Mmhm,” he grinned, pulling her close for a deeper kiss than before. “Let’s see how fast I can get rid of her.”

While Dieter was in his meeting with Andrea to go over his flight schedule for the next month, Violet took a much needed shower and got ready for the day. She tried to fight the urge to present as her best self, knowing that Dieter would likely wear just his robe all day, but she couldn’t shake the insecurity she felt looking at her bare face and un-styled hair in the mirror.

“You need a fucking therapist,” she scolded herself as she began straightening her hair.

“Don’t we all?” Dieter appeared behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder. Violet smiled, setting her straightener down before turning around to face him, her hands combing through his wild and unruly waves.

“You need a haircut. Getting shaggy,” she smirked as she gave his hair a tug, earning a soft moan. “Can I cut it?”

“Are you gonna fuck it up?” he asked, sliding his hands down to squeeze her ass through her jeans.

“No,” she replied, scratching his scalp. “You don’t trust me?”

“I trust you with my life, Apollo,” he replied with a content smile, as though he’d given it thought beyond this moment. “You can cut it for me tonight. I have to go with Andrea to some meetings for the Scorsese project. Might be gone a while, you should go out and savor the London drizzle before we leave.”

“When are you leaving?” she asked, her hands leaving his hair to smooth over the terry cloth of his robe. “I had a flight set for LA in two days because I have a photo shoot and a talk show thing.”

“I have to be in New York in two days for a couple days of press shit, but I’ll be home right after.”

Violet nodded, trying to be content with the way their schedules were almost lining up when really she would’ve preferred to simply not be without him at all. Violet knew better than to get too attached to his presence. She was well aware of how hard it was to maintain relationships in this industry, and knowing that Dieter had two projects coming up that would inevitably keep him away and busy, she had to learn to be okay with the distance.

Dieter must have sensed her slipping away into her thoughts, his lips pressing against hers acting as a sort of grounding. The warmth of his palm cradled her cheek to keep her in the kiss, to keep her out of her head, and she hummed at the heat he radiated, feeling so warm against her cold skin that she thought (and hoped) it would brand her. It wasn’t until he allowed her to turn around and resume her hair styling that she realized the only mark he left on her was an invisible one, one that only they could see and one that only she could feel. She decided she liked it that way better.

“God, I cannot wait to be back in LA,” Lucy shivered, pulling her coat tight as she walked through the city with Violet. “You know it’s 70 degrees there tomorrow? I checked on my weather app. 70 degrees. And here? 40. And fucking raining.”

“I used to want to move here,” Violet added, shaking her head as she buried her face in her chunky scarf. “Fuck that.”

“So,” Lucy sang, nudging her in the side with her elbow. “We gonna talk about you and Dieter?”

“If you want.” Though she played cavalier about it, she couldn’t help the grin that grew on her face at the mere memory of last night and this morning.

Dieter was above and beyond what she thought and hoped he’d be in bed. After the night in the hotel with his cock shoved down the model’s throat, she assumed he was more of a taker in bed, but it couldn’t be further from the reality. If anything, Dieter liked being told what to do more than anything, though that wasn’t to say he never did some bossing around of his own—he took plenty, he just gave it back tenfold.

“So…what happened?” Lucy asked, pulling Violet from the racy scenes replaying in her mind.

“We talked about the night in the hotel and then one thing led to another and…”

“And?” Lucy urged her with an impatient grin.

“And then I had the best sex of my fuckin’ life, Luce,” Violet whispered enthusiastically. “Like I think I’m gonna have a stroke kind of orgasms, babe.”

“Good for Dieter,” she nodded, impressed. “And especially good for you.”

Violet stayed grinning as they rounded the corner to the restaurant they were headed to, thinking to herself, “this is good for me”.

“You guys gonna be an official thing now, or what?” she continued her questioning as they arrived at the restaurant, paparazzi somehow already there and waiting. Violet gave the cameras a polite wave as she walked past them, but it seemed to be the wrong move as they began to start hurling questions at her.

“Is it true you’re joining the MCU?” No.

“Is that a baby bump you’re hiding behind your coat?” God, no.

“How are you feeling with all the bad reviews coming out about your movie?” N—wait, what?

“What the fuck is he talking about, Luce?” Violet whispered to her assistant as the host of the restaurant quickly guided them in and to their private table near the back.

“I don’t know,” she replied, high pitched and frantic as she reached through her bag for her phone. Pulling it out, her screen lit up with a long list of notifications from the google alerts she had set up for Violet’s name. “Fuck. Fuck. Hold on.”

“I’ll give you a moment,” the host carefully stepped out of their tense bubble as Violet sat staring expectantly at her assistant who was speed reading through critics reviews.

“Well, the good news is that your performance is being called the savior of the movie,” she offered with a bit of hope in her voice. “There’s not a single bad review on you, Vi.”

“But the movie is shit.” It was spoken as a fact because that’s what it was. She knew it during the premiere—though she mistakenly and harshly threw her own performance into the mix as well—and now everyone else seemed to agree. “Well, there goes my fucking Oscar. Fuck, man! This was supposed to—fuck.”

“Violet, you can still get nominated.” Lucy attempted to console her, reaching over to squeeze her forearm as it rested on the table.

“But I can’t win. You can’t star in a shit fucking movie and win Best Actress. They wouldn’t let that happen—they shouldn’t let that happen.” Violet sighed, reaching into her phone, the need to talk to Dieter too strong to beat.

V: hey. reviews are in. movie is shit.

In the few minutes it took for Dieter to send a reply, Violet doomscrolled on her phone until she was sick of hearing her name pop up on her For You page, reviews of what was supposed to be her first big film reduced to TikTok gossip and Instagram headlines.

D: fuck, V.

D: from what i saw last night and the article i’m reading now, you’re not the issue. you know that right?

Violet frowned with a mixture of deep affection and crushing insecurity as she typed her reply that she could muster that was honest.

V: i don’t know.

Feeling the pounding in her chest start to cloud her ears, Violet let out a shaky sigh, only half-listening as Lucy continued on trying to cheer her up, her words nothing more than a drowned out mumble in the distance. Grabbing her phone, she began typing again.

V: my brain won’t shut off. feel like i’m gonna have a panic attack. wish you were here.

D: i’m out of my meeting. where are you?

She gave him the address to the restaurant and felt the tightness in her chest melt just the slightest bit at the knowledge that he would be here soon. In the meantime, Violet tried to distract herself from the entire subject by continuing on talking about the sex she and Dieter had in the gym this morning.

“While you were sweaty?” Lucy asked, half appalled, half impressed.

“Went to town,” she confirmed proudly. “Like he hadn’t eaten for weeks.”

“What a man.” Lucy shook her head in awe and took a sip of her water.

“Talking about me?” Dieter’s voice sounded, instantly illuminating the room, or at least Violet’s perception of it.

She watched him as he walked up to the table as though he was some precious, holy thing. Something born to ease her journey through this life. A beacon of light and hope in a dark world and an even darker industry. She knew the demons that lurked in his head told him otherwise, the cruel monsters taking the form of his parents, constantly making him feel inadequate and insignificant. Violet decided in that moment to do everything in her power to show him just how wrong those voices were. He was more than enough. He was more than significant.

“Hey,” he greeted her, kissing her cheek as he pulled up a seat and sat as close to her as he possibly could without sitting in her lap. He disregarded Lucy, though she took no offense to it. Swiping his knuckle over the apple of Violet’s cheek, he pouted his bottom lip out, the sadness that only he could somehow see in her eyes stabbing him in the chest with empathy.

“I’m not okay,” she whispered in his ear. Dieter nodded and rubbed her back. “I wanted it to be good so badly.”

“I know,” he sighed, his hand never stopping against her back, melting the tension as best as he could in public. “Everybody has that one film that they wanted to work so bad, but…sometimes it’s not our fault. There’s hundreds of other people responsible for a movie, you know? It could be the lighting department or sound or editing or the production team or whatever. Just know that the failure isn’t on you. Everyone—“

“D,” she sighed, letting her head fall into her hands as she propped her elbows up on the table. “None of that makes it better.”

“I know it doesn’t,” he whispered. “But it’s the truth.”

“Can I get you anything, Mr. Bravo?” the waiter appeared and Dieter quickly shook his head, dismissing him.

“I canceled my other meetings today. Let’s go take your mind off things, huh?” he whispered into Violet’s ear. “Have a few drinks, smoke a few blunts, have a couple orgasms—“

“Okay,” she agreed with a giggle, lifting her head to face him. She rested her hand on his face and gave him an adoring stare before realizing that Lucy was still at the table. She turned to her assistant with a deep inhale and forced a smile onto her face, as though she hadn’t just listened in on their private conversation. “Alright, I’m gonna go with D. Just put the bill on my—“

“No,” Dieter objected, reaching into the back pocket of his sage green trousers to tug out his wallet. He dropped two hundred dollar bills on the table, even though their meal couldn’t have totaled more than one hundred, and whistled for the waiter. “Luce, you’re welcome to join us if you want. Fair warning, me and Vi are gonna be fucking like rabbits.”

“You know what, I think I’m okay,” she chuckled. “But you two have fun. Responsible fun, if you can.”

“If by responsible you mean no cocaine, sure,” Dieter replied, standing up and helping Violet slide her coat and scarf on.

“Come on,” Violet laughed, looping her arm with his as she led them out of the restaurant.

Dieter shielded her from the now doubled swarm of paparazzi, his arm wrapping around her to tuck her into his side as they hurried down the sidewalk to where Dieter’s SUV was parked.

“Isn’t it ironic that we used to call these fuckers so that we were seen together and now all I want in the world is for them to leave us alone?” he mumbled into her ear as they walked.

“We created a monster, would be cruel of us not to feed it.”

As the pair laid tangled in the aftermath of their party for two, their bodies curled together on the floor of his living room, the fireplace raging in front of them acting as the only source of light in his home, everything momentarily felt right in the world.

Dieter was not a rich, accomplished man who’d never loved or been loved so truly as he was now. He was simply a man being loved. A man worth loving and holding and understanding.

Violet had transformed as well, no longer carrying the burden of being a beautiful young woman in Hollywood, no longer carrying the shame of what she had to do to get there. She was simply a woman being loved. A woman worth loving and understanding.

Together, they found peace. Together they found what they’d been looking for their entire lives. Inside these walls, however expensive they were, they could put aside the masks and personas, the privilege and pretension, and simply be people instead of idols.

“Tell me there’s more to life than winning awards,” she whispered, drawing hearts on his chest while a Sam Cooke record played crackled on the vintage Victrola.

“There’s more to life than winning awards,” he replied, just as soft as the skin his fingertips traced over on her ribs.

“Now tell me the truth,” she ordered, smoothing her palm over the swell of his stomach.

“For people like us, our art is our everything. We’re always gonna be chasing after validation. Even if there’s more to life.”

Violet nodded against his shoulder, a tear falling from her eyes and onto his heated skin.

“I wanted it so badly.”

“Keep wanting it,” he urged, squeezing her tighter to his body. “Keep wanting it until you get it, and then want it even more.”

“I’m sorry I broke your sobriety,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his peck. “I shouldn’t have—“

“Shh,” he silenced her apologies with a kiss to her forehead. “You’re the only person in the world who makes me feel human. Do you understand how much that means to me? I’d get drunk with you any day, Violet. Only you.”

“Tell me one more thing,” she commanded, moving to straddle his thighs, her hands raking up and down his chest as she smiled down at him.

“Anything,” he replied, reaching to cup her face in his hands as though she was a jewel.

“Tell me you love me again.” Dieter grinned, pulling her down until her lips were ghosting over his.

“I—“ A peck. “Love—“ Another. “You.”

He kissed her face until they were both grinning.

“God, I love you.”

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