#Psychic Reader in Los Angeles | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

absurdthirst · 11 months

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In the Cards {Dieter Bravo x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 12.9k

Warnings: Tarot cards, fortune telling, Dieter being an idiot, flirting, betting on sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cum eating, oral sex (male and female receiving), angst, groveling

Comments: Dieter has a psychic that predicts that his soulmate will ruin him. So he decides that he never wants to have anything to do with them. Until he meets you and doesn't know who you are.

Co-written by @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| 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.

Dieter eagerly watches the psychic as she reads his tarot cards. He was bored and decided to get his assistant to bring him a psychic, to see what his future holds. Maybe another Oscar. The older woman hums as she stares at the cards. “You are very successful.” She murmurs and Dieter rolls his eyes, “duh.”

He points at himself and she lifts her gaze to him. “I won a fucking Oscar.” He tuts and fidgets in his seat.

“You are a very lucky man, Mr. Bravo. You will meet your soulmate soon.” She clicks her tongue as she points at the card.

Instinctively, Dieter’s fingers find the edge of his numerous bracelets on his wrists. It’s probably the one mark on his body that he hides, aware that the entire world has seen all of his tattoos, but this is a mark he’s had since birth. His soulmate mark. The one that his soulmate will have perfectly matched, just like they are to him. “What are they like?” He demands, leaning forward and praying they like sex. They have to.

The woman smiles at him, “she will be everything you’ve ever wanted. She will also ruin you.” She warns, pointing at the corresponding card. “She will be your salvation and your damnation.”

“Ruin me?” Dieter’s eyes widen in alarm as he rears back in his seat. “How will she ruin me?” He demands, even surprised that his soulmate is a woman. He’s wondered but he’s just always assumed that he would be fine with anyone. He wasn’t really keen on kids anyway. “There’s nothing wrong with me, my life is great!” He huffs, eyes anxious as he leans forward again. “How will she ruin me?” This time his question is nervous, unsure and he’s shaking his leg under the table.

“I do not have all the answers, Mr. Bravo. I am simply reading the cards. You are lucky, not everyone finds their soulmate during this life. The cards simply give me an overview, it is up to you to discover the meaning within their readings.” She says, reaching for the cards to put them back in the deck.

“No!” Dieter shouts, reaching out and grabbing her hands to stop her. “I- I’ll pay you more. What-whatever you want. I just need to know.” He begs, unsure of what this soulmate could do to ruin him. “Just- anything. Please.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Bravo. It’s up to fate now.” She shakes her head, putting her hands out of his desperate grip, and puts her cards away. “I do not have this information. I do not know who she is or where she will come from. I wish you all the best and I hope you find happiness.” She says, standing up to get her purse.

“Please. Don’t go. I need to know.” He begs, standing up to follow her. She manages to make her escape from his hotel room. He returns to Los Angeles tomorrow and he knows he’s going to need to see his dealer. His nerves are fucked.

****

You exhale shakily, nervous to start your new job. Always nervous when you meet someone new and this is Oscar winning Dieter Bravo. It’s going to be a project, he looks like a trash man half of the time, wearing random shit, and they want you to revamp his image. A challenge for sure. You ring his doorbell, eager for this consultation to get his measurements and discuss his style…whatever that style would be called.

Dieter groans, head pounding and he feels like something died in his mouth. Maybe he had done too many drugs last night, but he was stressed. Stressed and worried about what this soulmate might do to him. Making him decide that he wanted nothing to do with a soulmate. Why do you even need them? You can choose, everyone should choose.

He stumbles to the door and opens it, boxers on, one croc missing and his tatty robe consisting of his entire outfit. Blearily trying to focus on who is in front of him as he squints. “Who are you?” He demands, voice cracking.

“Oh. They didn’t tell you I was coming?” You frown, glancing down at his “outfit” if you can call it that. You sigh, “I spoke to your manager earlier. They hired me as your stylist. I’m - I’m here to look through your closet and help with your everyday looks.” You wrinkle your nose slightly at his outfit.

“Shit. That’s today?” Dieter groans, knowing that his manager will kill him if he sends you away, so he opens the door and gestures for you to come in. “Just- do whatever you need to do.” He grunts, turning and walking away, needing to piss and get something to drink.

You watch him kick out his leg as he walks, adjusting his balls and you sigh, knowing this isn’t going to be an easy job. You follow him, eyes widening at the expensive home he lives in, littered with drug paraphernalia and silver trays. “Uh, where is your closet?”

Dieter huffs, leaning out from the bathroom, the door still up as he pisses. “Top of the stairs, to the left. Can’t miss it.” It’s the biggest damn bedroom upstairs and the closet is in the bedroom.

You huff, making your way upstairs to his bedroom, wrinkling your nose at the mess that lingers around the room. Bed messy and clothes everywhere, you make your way into the walk-in closet, knowing you’re going to have your hands full with this. You start to rifle through his clothes, unable to believe that half the clothes he owns are full of holes or ripped. You take a shirt out, finally finding something decent. You make your way back downstairs, finding Dieter in the kitchen, “you want to sit down? We can talk about what your style is.”

He looks up and squints at you, trying to remember who you are before he recalls why you are here. The stylist. “Whatever’s comfortable.” He shrugs, and continues to line up a thin line of cocaine. “Want some?” He offers, wanting to be polite since you are in his house.

You shake your head, “no thanks.” You bite your tongue, knowing you will just piss him off if you lecture him about getting high. “Apart from whatever’s comfortable, do you have any preferences? Colors you like? Inspirations? I don’t want to just dress you up like a doll. I want you to be involved, to have a say.” You sit down at the table he’s sitting at, taking your notepad out of your purse. “Tell me what you like and then I’ll go and leave you in peace.”

“I like stuff that moves.” Dieter grunts, shrugging at you rejecting the line of coke. “I don’t like anything too tight, but if I have to dress up I like fitted. I love lounge clothes.” He’s never really thought about it if he was honest. “I don’t know. I wear whatever. Most of my stuff has been given to me or I’ve taken from friends.”

You know there are comfortable options that will look good on him and won't suffocate him. "I know your PR team doesn't care what you wear in the house but they are concerned about the amount of 'homeless trash man' comments that have appeared and they want you to look more polished when you go out. I think I know what will work. I just need your measurements. Can you stand up?" You ask, taking your measuring tape out of your purse.

“Homeless.” Dieter scowls at that and shakes his head. “I have an Oscar.” He huffs and then looks you over again. You’re hot and he wouldn’t mind having sex with you. “You don’t think I look like a trash man, do you?” He asks, eyes wide and slightly hurt at the idea.

You tilt your head, "you - you are a handsome guy. Sexy. You have so much appeal and you look hot even as a trash man but you could be sexier in comfy but fitted clothes. Just give me a chance to make you look polished." You practically plead, knowing that compliments are the way to his compliance but he is hot, you can't deny that. Those beautiful brown eyes...you force yourself to look away. "Can you stand and let me measure you up?" You ask, wanting to push your attraction aside.

He perks up at the compliments, scrambling to his feet and standing in the middle of the room with his arms and legs spread. “Add some extra room in the crotch.” He smirks and winks at you playfully. “Don’t like to be too tight when I get hard.”

You want to roll your eyes but you refrain, barely. Nodding in agreement as you grab your notebook and pen, measuring his shoulders and arms first. Then you measure his neck, ignoring the way his eyes burn into you, making you shift slightly from how intense he is. Then you measure his chest, feeling his heart beat beneath your palm before you measure his waist. When it comes to his inseam, you kneel down and swallow harshly, coming face to face with his crotch. “How much room do you want?” You ask, croaking slightly.

“Do you want to have sex with me?” Dieter blurts out, ignoring your questions to pose one of his own. His cock already twitching from seeing you on your knees in front of him. It’s been awhile and you’re pretty and he likes the way your hands feel on him. He’s used to people touching him, but there’s something about you that speaks to him.

Your jaw drops at his forwardness, “I- I- no. I, uh, it would be unprofessional and you don’t even know me. I don’t know you.” You reason with yourself, knowing it’s wrong even though he’s sexy and it’s been so long since you’ve had sex. You went through a phase of casual sex when you finally accepted that you might not find your soulmate and one day, you decided to have hope again. So many people find their soulmate during this lifetime, it’s not impossible, you just have to have hope. “No. I, uh, I don’t think we should have sex.”

“Oh.” Dieter’s hopeful face falls but he doesn’t argue. “Okay.” He nods and bites his lip as your hand starts to slide up the inside of his thigh. Jumping, he gives a small, almost girlish giggle. “Sorry- I- I’m ticklish.” He huffs, shaking his head and moving closer to you. “Sorry.”

He’s disappointed that you don’t want to have sex but hopefully you will leave soon and he can find someone who will. He’s upset and sex always helps. Especially since he’s found out he can never be with his soulmate. “Bet your soulmate wouldn’t want that.” He adds, giving a small shrug.

You sigh, writing down the measurement, “I haven’t met them yet.” You hate to be reminded of that fact. You know he hasn’t met his soulmate yet, obviously, and you wonder if he even wants to. “I- I’m not that type of girl. I don’t want a fling or one time thing anymore. I want a connection. Don’t you?” You ask, picking up the tape to measure his hips.

“Not with my soulmate.” Dieter scowls thinking about the words of the psychic. “Think about it. You mean that some mystic powers in the universe knew when I was born who I was supposed to love? The perfect person for me?” He scoffs. “I shed personas like a shed boxers. I’m an actor.” He stresses. “Who could put up with this?”

He’s probably the only person you’ve ever met who wasn’t excited or obsessed with the idea of finding their soulmate. Some of your friends had given up, gotten married to their partner at the time only to abandon them when they met their soulmate. You thought it was cruel of the universe to play with people but it’s how the system goes. “That’s why they are your soulmate. A perfect match. They compliment you and give you what you need while you give them what they need. You have a lot to offer here, Dieter.” You gesture to his house and he scoffs.

“Yeah. Money. Perfect for the deep universally pre-determined connection.” He rolls his eyes and you shift onto your haunches to look up at him.

“The right person will love you for you. You just haven’t met them yet. They will know what you need. Now, let’s sit down and do some color matching and then I’ll be out of your hair.” You slap your knees and stand up, grabbing the notepad and tape to place them in your purse and get the swatches.

Dieter rolls his eyes and pouts slightly. He’s getting hungry and now the line he had done was taking the edge off his headache, he’s bored. “Let’s order some food.” He suggests, hating the idea of eating another meal alone in the large house that was either full of people destroying things, or just him puttering around in it alone. “What do you want to eat? We can have it delivered.”

“Oh I can’t-”

Dieter cuts you off, “well what else do you have to do today?”

You sigh, “well nothing but -”

Dieter grins, “perfect. So you can stay for lunch.” He grabs his cell off of the table, taking a seat and he taps the seat beside him without looking up.

You sigh softly, sitting down and fiddling with the color samples. You should go, you have to go, but why can’t you? Something is telling you to stay with him and you can’t ignore it. You want to know more about him and you tell yourself it’s so you can hone in on his style.

Dieter grins, “okay so options. I kind of want a burrito. Ooo or maybe a burger. You want pizza? Or maybe we can get Thai. You know what, I’m gonna order it all and we can just decide from there.” He does it all within the blink of an eye, the protest on your lips dies as he hits confirm on the orders and you stare at him in shock. “What? When I’m hungry, I’m hungry.” He winks at you and you can’t help but giggle.

“Okay. While we wait, can I do my job?” You ask and he pouts but nods. With a hum, you start to place the fabrics under his chin, wanting to see what works best for him.

Dieter watches you work, admiring the way your bottom lip is nibbled on as you decide on fabrics and patterns. “Why a stylist?” He asks, wanting to know more about you and not focus on the damn soulmate who would ruin him. You were the only one available so he would learn about you like he was researching a role.

Your gaze shifts to his eyes, “I’ve always loved fashion. Wanted to be a designer until I found out how hard that industry is. Almost like being an actor. It’s a lottery game. So I decided to shift into styling and moved to L.A, got to know people and then grew my portfolio and it snowballed from there. I tend to do more day to day looks and less red carpet unless it’s a special client.” You tell him, flipping to the next fabric. “This one is perfect.” The dark green compliments him beautifully and you look back into those eyes. Shit, he’s handsome. “What about you? Why acting?”

Dieter snorts, giving a rueful chuckle. “I’m insecure, constantly need validation and affection, and I get to pretend to not be me.” He tells you with a roll of his eyes. “Of course I was going to be an actor.” He’s done therapy and he knows his faults. He just chooses not to look at them like they are something that detracts from his appeal. He had leaned into his vices and shortcomings. He looks at you again and notices how your eyes have lit up happily at finding a good color. “Fuck, you would look good naked and modeling for me.” He groans. “I bet you have amazing tits.”

You fluster, unable to stop yourself reacting to his sudden compliment and you wonder if he treats everyone like this. The electricity between you must be his charisma, his magnetism. “You paint?” You ask breathlessly, realizing that’s what he means when your gaze flicks to the canvas on the wall behind him, his signature clear on the bottom corner.

Nodding, he narrows his eyes at you, imagining how he would pose you. Sometimes he paints garish things to get out the turbulent emotions inside him but you, you would be soft. Sensuous. The look of a woman blissed out by pleasure and luxuriating in her own power. “You would look good on canvas.” He hums again, his brain whirling as he plots out where he would pose you. By the pool? No, that would be too bright. In his bed? Ideally, but you’ve already turned him down for sex. He will ask anyone once, but if he remembers he asked them, he won’t bother them again.

The way he’s looking at you has you feeling sexy and powerful. You don’t want to have sex with him, it would be unprofessional and you have to maintain boundaries but you are tempted to have him paint you. You’ve never been asked that before and you are curious. “How would you paint me?” You inquire, setting the fabrics down as you let your guard down. There’s something about him that makes you want to listen to him talk all day.

Dieter hums, biting his lip and nods to himself. “Soft lighting, just a hint of it. Fabrics that feel good against your skin, makes you want to writhe in them. Preferably after cumming, limbs heavy and smiling completely spacy.” He tells you. “That moment where everything else in the world is gone but the way your body relaxes, right before you fall asleep after. Maybe yearning like you want your lover back with you, touching you.”

You inhale sharply, his words making your stomach twist and you bite your lip, flustered and slightly turned on. “That sounds - it sounds like a dream. I haven’t had that before…not like that. The feeling of just being there in the moment.” You sigh, imagining the intimacy, something you’ve craved since you moved to L.A but have never found.

“Mhm.” Dieter grins and turns towards the kitchen, thirsty again. “I’m going to get a drink. Do you want a drink? Wine, bourbon?” He asks, never feeling like it is too early in the day for alcohol. He strides over to his fridge and opens it up, pulling out a chilled white wine he had fallen in love with when he was filming in Napa Valley and bought cases of it. He holds it up in question as he looks back at you expectantly.

You shouldn’t, you know you shouldn’t drink because that’s going to lead to dumb decisions but you can’t stop yourself. You feel this connection to him and you want to be a little crazy. Stop being so sensible all the time. “Okay. Sure, why not?” You shrug, leaning back in the seat and deciding to let go for once in your life.

“Yes!” Dieter crows happily and spins around so he can hunt up the electric wine bottle opener and pull out glasses. Happy that he’s not going to be drinking alone even though it’s early. “Then I’ll let you dress me in whatever your heart desires.” He teases, looking over his shoulder and winking at you.

You smile, realizing now that he just wants company and you can still get your job done. “Even if I put you in a full tuxedo?” You joke, your heart pounding at the way he winked at you. God, there’s something about him. He’s just - he’s dynamite. Even in ratty clothes and messy hair, he’s taking your breath away.

“The best part of putting on a tuxedo is taking it off.” Dieter smirks as he turns around with two wine glasses that are filled way beyond a normal pour. He’s split the bottle between the two of you and strides towards you with all the confidence of a man who is at ease in his own skin, even if he’s just wearing boxers and a robe. “If you put me in a tux, I’m going to insist you take it off me.” He jokes as he hands you the glass.

You fluster, taking the glass of wine eagerly as you look up at him. “That’s a compromise I haven’t heard before. Most men hate tuxedos but will wear them to impress their fans.” You eye the massive glass of wine, knowing you’re going to need it. “I’m sure you have plenty of people who would kill to take the tux off of you.”

“Who knows?” He shrugs slightly and takes a sip of his wine, loving how the sweet tartness of the wine coats his tongue. “I’m sure they are, but I try not to fuck fans anymore. It gets messy.” He shudders slightly, remembering the last time he let a fan flatter him into bed. He had been dragged into court for a paternity test that couldn’t possibly be him. The obsession had thrown him off doing that again.

You hum, imagining just how messy it can get when you are an Oscar winning actor like he is. “So who do you fuck?” You blurt out the question and wince at your forwardness and lack of filter. You didn’t mean to make him uncomfortable but you immediately go to apologize, “sorry. I shouldn’t - that was rude.”

Dieter snorts, laughing really and gives a careless shrug. “Anyone, I guess.” He tells you. “Men, women, anyone who is willing. But I guess I stick with people in the business now.” He explains. “The last time was this chick that I was stuck with at a hotel. She worked there and she kept trying to make it seem like we were soulmates even though we weren’t.” He huffs. “She wanted to get married and was pissed when I wouldn’t do it.”

Your eyes widen, “holy shit.” You choke out a chuckle, “soulmates. I, uh, I haven’t met mine yet.” You can assume he hasn’t met his.

He scoffs, “I don’t want to meet mine.”

You frown, “why not?”

He sighs, “it’s a long story but soulmates…it sounds complicated and permanent. I like my freedom. I like being able to do what I want, who I want.”

You nod, “i can understand that but to have a soulmate…they understand you in a way no one else will. They compliment you, challenge you. Make you a better person. I’d like that. I haven’t met mine yet but I would like to.”

He rolls his eyes, his views on soulmates now skewed because of what the psychic had told him. “Forget soulmates,” he urges, taking another sip of his wine. “Let’s talk about you. What would you want to peel me out of if you dress me like you want?” He can’t help but flirt, winking at you playfully. “I might let you put it on me.”

He’s flirting and you don’t mind it, giggling a little now that you’ve had a few sips of wine. “I think you’d look good in fitted jeans. A button down. Hair styled properly. We could roll the sleeves up on the shirt to display your tattoos. Perhaps some sneakers so you’re still comfortable. Maybe a cardigan if it’s cold. You’d look good in knit.” You imagine the browns and creams that would compliment those brown eyes, maybe a forest green. “You’d let me dress you and undress you?” You tease, “sounds like I’m just doing all the work.”

“I’m the one wearing it, baby.” He grins at you, enjoying the way you are bantering with him. There’s something about you, it just draws him to you like a moth to flame. It’s harmless to flirt since you aren’t shutting it down and he’s not pressing you to sleep with him since he’s said no. “How about I dress and undress you too?” He offers. “You just have to pick it out since I have horrible taste.” He pauses again. “Or you’d just be naked all the time.”

“Oh no.” You shake your head, “no. I, uh, you don’t wanna see me naked all the time. I’ve had, um, I’ve had previous partners who have told me to change how I look. Lose weight. Gain weight. I’m not exactly-” You exhale deeply, “I think I’d be best to pick out some clothes.” It’s ironic that you’re a stylist, helping people look and feel good when you struggle to do it for yourself after so many years of not being good enough. Your ex had lectured you about losing weight, then about gaining weight, then wanted you to get extensions, then cut your hair. You were never good enough…until he went off with his soulmate one day and left you in the dust.

Dieter huffs, lips pulling down into a scowl and he looks back over at you. “Someone lied to you.” He comments. “You’re gorgeous. Who cares if you “need to lose weight”?” He actually sets the glass of wine down so he can do air quotes with his fingers. “Or need to eat. Have short or long hair. It doesn’t change you from being sexy and compelling.” Dieter has long been body positive, and it annoys him that you wouldn’t think you would look good naked. “You can make me hard, just like this.”

His words make your heart thump and you set your wine glass down. Part of you knows he’s just a horny actor who wants to get off and the other part of you wants to believe him. You reach for his hand, “thank you for saying that. That’s so sweet.” You mean it and he winks at you, “just stating facts.” You see his wrist covered in bracelets and briefly wonder if his soulmate mark is there and he hides it. When he sees your eyes on his wrist, he pulls his hand away just as the doorbell rings for your food delivery.

“I’ll get it.” Dieter springs up off the couch, darting towards the door excitedly. His stomach is growling now and he wants to gorge himself on some good food. Popping the door open, he grins at the delivery driver. “Come in, bring it alllllll in.” He opens the door wider, aware that they have a ton of bags to bring in.

Your eyes widen as the delivery guy brings the food into the kitchen. “Oh my God. Are you hibernating or something?” You ask.

Dieter who snorts and shakes his head, “no but I can eat a shit ton after I’ve gotten high.” He confesses and the driver chuckles, knowing who Dieter is. “Here you go man.” Dieter shoves a hundred dollar bill into his hand after he sets the bags down.

You smile, liking that he is generous, and he starts to unpack the door after the delivery guy has left. “You ordered so much.” You gasp, eying the variety and your stomach grumbles.

“Leftovers.” Dieter starts opening containers, groaning at the smell and steals an olive off a plate of nachos. “We can pig out and then munch when we are hungry later.” He’s pushing it, but he doesn’t want you to leave. Just assuming that you will go along with his plan. “I’ll even let you throw away clothes.”

Your eyebrows raise at his takeover of your day but you can't complain, not eager to head home to your empty apartment. "I don't throw away clothes. I repair them or give them to charity. It's wasteful to toss them out unless they are beyond saving." You answer, grabbing some pizza after he hands you a plate. "You wanna watch a movie?"

Dieters eyes light up at your suggestion and his head bobbles up and down quickly. So quickly he almost makes himself dizzy. He points towards the living room where the large tv is on display. “Whatever you want. Let’s eat on the couch.” He suggests, smirking slightly at being lazy with you and maybe he’ll even smoke some weed after eating.

You follow him to the sofa and he turns on the television, pulling up Netflix to see the commercial for Cliff Beasts. “Absolutely not.” He cringes and moves onto his watch list. “What do you wanna watch?” He asks and you settle into the plush sofa, a little awkwardly since this isn’t your home. “You pick.” You insist, this is his home and he paid for the food. The least you can do is allow him to pick the movie.

“Nah, I don’t really care.” Dieter shrugs and shoves a piece of sushi in his mouth. “As long as it’s none of my movies.” He stipulates. “I hate watching my own shit. It depresses me because I always think of how I could have done it better. Or get pissed off at what they edit out.”

You can understand that. A lot of actors don't like watching themselves but you down at how critical Dieter is about himself. "You are an incredible actor. Truly, once in a generation. Seeing you in Hunger Strike...I couldn't look away." You had seen that move three times in the theater, unable to explain why you felt so drawn to it, to him. "What about that new Glass Onion movie?" You suggest, having heard about it from your friends.

“It’s on my watch list.” Dieter nods, basking in the pleasure of your compliments, even if he doesn’t believe them. All the shit he’s been shoved in since makes him believe that his Oscar was a fluke. Maybe he got it too young, rose to fame too fast. “Turn it on and I’ll grab our wine.” He had forgotten about it and set his plate down so he can rush back into the kitchen for it.

You turn on the movie, smiling as he sets your glass of wine down on the coffee table, and you are confused by how comfortable this is. It shouldn't be this easy to be around a stranger. The movie plays while you eat and you try to guess who the killer is.

"It's Birdy." Dieter says, pointing at the screen and you shake your head, "Birdy? She's not smart enough. No. It has to be whatever the fuck the Edward Norton's character is called." You struggle to remember and you lean into his side as the movie comes to its climax. Plates on the table and wine glasses empty.

“That’s too obvious.” Dieter hums, turning his head and looking over at you. You really are gorgeous and this is the most relaxed he has been in a long time. The most fun he’s had too, if he will admit that to himself. “They have dropped too many hints that it’s Miles.” He points out. “Trying to draw you away from the real killer.”

You lean back to look at him, a smirk on your face, “you wanna bet? I bet it’s Norton. You bet it’s Birdy?” You ask and he nods, “what’s the winner get?”

You chuckle at his eagerness and you hum, “you get to fuck me.” You had decided about halfway into the movie that you wanted this man to fuck you. He’s so effortlessly sexy, funny and you are drawn to him. This just makes your desires known under the guise of a game.

“And if you win?” He counters.

You smirk, leaning closer, “I get to fuck you.”

He frowns for just a second, doing the math on your proposal before he lights up like a Christmas tree. “Fuck yes!” He pumps his fist into the air happily. “Never wanted a movie to be over faster.” He hums, smirking at you. “So how do you like it? Oral first, oral after? I kinda like it after myself.” He winks. “Clean up my mess, ya know?”

You shiver slightly at the thought of him eagerly lapping up his cum from inside of you. “I like oral in general. My ex…he never wanted to go down on me. Didn’t really want to do much except doggy. I guess he saved that for his soulmate.” You scoff, keeping your eyes on the screen. “I have an IUD. I’m clean, by the way.” You promise, hoping he’s clean too, “but we can use a condom. I know some stars are nervous in case of accidents.”

Dieter grins at you. “Slept with a lot of movie stars, huh?” He teases, sending you a small wink. “Don’t worry baby, I’ll be the best.” He promises cockily.

“No- I just- I know that some don’t-“

He shakes his head and smirks at you. “I was joking. I’m clean and honestly? Who knows if my swimmers work, as many drugs as I do.” He huffs, remembering a doctor warning him that his usage could affect his motility later on. That had been after the first OD.

You nod, knowing he’s a heavy user of all drugs, having watched him OD on set in the video that was uploaded to YouTube and went viral. “Do you want kids? One day?” You ask out of curiosity as you settle back against him to continue watching the movie, eager to see who wins the bet.

There’s a careless shrug of his shoulders and he sighs softly. “I don’t know.” He admits. “I like kids. They’re cool in a non-parental kind of way. But I’d probably fuck a kid up, you know?” He knows he’s not a good man, far from it. His faults are very well known to him when he lists them all off in his head when he is down. “If it happened I wouldn’t hate it, but I’ve never really given it much thought.”

You nod, understanding what he means. “I haven’t really thought about it either. Too busy trying to make a career for myself in a competitive field. For the record, I don’t think you’d fuck up a kid. Just- you couldn’t be snorting coke anymore.” You nudge him playfully, “I think you’d be a good dad though.” You tell him, knowing he’s a good man from just the time you’ve spent with him. He’s fun and you know a child would love him.

“Eh.” He ducks his head slightly at the surprising compliment. It actually makes him a little emotional for reasons he can’t understand. “Thanks.” He murmurs, looking back at the tv. “Maybe one day. If I don’t get too old.”

You smile at his bashful reaction, “you’d definitely be a dilf.” You tease him just as the killer is revealed. “I told you!” You watch the crystal smash and grin, unable to believe you were right and you turn your head to cup his cheek, bringing his mouth to yours so you can kiss him. Electricity surges through you, making you gasp, and you can’t believe how good it feels to barely kiss him.

Dieter’s eyes widen, surprised that you are actually following through with the bet but he doesn’t question it. Greedily kissing you back and moaning into your mouth as he reaches for you. It’s your show, you get to fuck him how you want but he needs to touch you. Dieter Bravo is greedy for physical affection.

Your body feels like it’s on fire as his tongue slides into your mouth, Netflix already lining up another show but you don’t care. You moan into his mouth and shift to straddle him while his hands squeeze your ass. It feels so natural, like you’ve done this a thousand times before. “Fuck Dieter.” You sigh when he kisses down your throat and sucks on your skin over your collarbone. “I want to fuck you.”

“H-how?” Dieter croaks out, willing to let you do whatever you want to him. “How do you want me? You- you won the bet.” He can’t help but roll his hips up, his hardening cock pressing against you. “You fuck me how you want to baby, I’ll do whatever you want.” Most would think Dieter is dominant because of his brash attitude and his cocky nature, but he can be surprisingly submissive.

You smirk, “I want to ride you.” You reveal, feeling empowered and you desperately want him to writhe beneath you. You want to feel in control and desired. You reach for his ratty robe, pushing it down his arms and he leans forward so you can get it off of him. “That’s being thrown out.” You warn him, seeing all the holes in the material, it’s beyond repair.

Dieter pouts, that one being one of his favorites and he huffs at you. “As long as you buy me another, baby.” He compromises, knowing that he doesn’t really have a choice and it probably should have been thrown out years ago. “Here or my bed?” He pants out, his own hands rubbing up and down your back and squeezing your ass but he hasn’t given you permission to undress you.

“Here. Unless you want me to leave early. I was hoping you could fuck me next.” You nip his jaw, loving the scruff there, and you whimper when he thrusts up to grind against you. “I want to ride you here.” You tell him, impatient with your sudden need for him. You reach for the hem of your shirt, a little nervous because he’s been with a lot of partners. You toss your shirt aside, exposing your bra and you reach behind you to undo it, looking into his eyes when you expose your tits to his hungry gaze.

“Fuck baby, look at those tits.” Dieter groans, reaching up and cupping your breasts so he can lean forward and press his face into them happily. Smothering your skin in kisses across your chest until he is taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking harshly as he looks up at you. His cock is throbbing, but he wants to make sure you enjoy yourself.

His lips sucking on your nipple make your cunt drip and you tangle your fingers in his messy locks. “Shit Diet.” You whimper, arching your back and you grind down onto his cock. “Please, baby. You can do that when you’re inside of me.” You reluctantly push his face away and shuffle off of him to push your jeans down your legs along with your panties.

“Yes madam.” Dieter bobbles his head up and down as he lifts his hips to discard his boxers. He’s already fully hard and as soon as he’s kicked them off his feet, he’s wrapping his hand around his cock and groaning as he watches you strip. “Told you that you could get me hard.” He purrs.

“Oh God.” You moan at the sight of his hard cock. “Fuck baby. Wanna - God I wanna suck you off.” You confess, eying his cock. Your hands shake slightly as you move to straddle him. “After.” You promise, letting him position his cock at your entrance. You’re soaking wet and he’s girthy, it’s gonna sting but it’s gonna be worth it. You sink down onto his cock, slowly to adjust to him and you grip his shoulders, “shit.” You hiss, tilting your head back as he stretches you out.

“Jesus, Mary, Joseph and Buddha.” Dieter breathes out, eyes closing in concentration so he doesn’t blow his load within seconds of being inside you, “I-I- holy shit.” He hisses, nearly whimpering when you clench down around him. “Oh shit baby, goddamn you’re so tight.”

You chuckle breathlessly at his exclamation and you don’t move, sensing that he needs a moment. “Dieter.” You sigh in pleasure, loving how he feels inside of you and you cup his cheeks, pressing your lips against his. You give yourself several moments to just savor how he feels inside of you, his tongue sliding against yours. You pull back after a moment, pecking his lips and you start to move, lifting your hips to start riding him.

“Shit.” Dieter moans, his eyes rolling back as you start to bounce on his cock. “Oh fuck baby, this pussy is perfect. So fucking perfect.” His hands move to your hips and he squeezes them. Your pussy is tight, gripping him like a vice and he knows you are going to kill him. “Oh fuck.”

“You probably - shit - say that to everyone.” You joke and slide your hands down his chest, tracing the tattoo above his heart. You moan his name, starting at a quick pace. You slam down onto his cock, gripping his shoulders to balance yourself as you start to ride him for all you’re worth.

He keens under you. Wordlessly crying out and all he can do is shake his head. Gripping your hips tighter while you ride him like he’s a fucking Bronco. He loves it, gasping out your name as he tries to keep up. Enjoying letting you use his cock.

Your mouth falls open, moans and squeals escaping your lips as you lean into Dieter and the angle has him pushing up against something devastating with every rock of your hips. You tangle your fingers in his hair, your cheek resting on top of his head and he turns it so he can take a nipple into his mouth. When he wraps his lips around it and bites down, you shatter above him. Clamping down on his cock, your thighs shake and you soak him as you cry into his dark locks, eyes squeezed shut.

The molten liquid is your cum washes over him and makes him groan your name again. Feeling the way you clamp down around him and shake. It’s gorgeous, your gorgeous and dieter feels his own end coming. Holding tight to you as his hips ruck up, thrusting wildly.

You try to rock down onto his cock but he holds you still so he can thrust up into you. You tilt his head, forcing him to look at you and you brush your lips against his. “Cum for me, baby.” You order, biting down on his lower lip and he lets out a sinful groan against your mouth, his cock twitching as he starts to fill you up.

Sex is like a drug. Endorphins flood Dieter’s entire body and he starts to float. Whining into your mouth when he feels overstimulated and he finishes, slumping down to the couch and he leans forward. His mouth at your throat as he pants to catch his breath, floating on a cloud of pleasure.

You pant against his neck, burying your face there to breathe him in and you sigh, “that was - shit. I think that’s the hardest I’ve ever cum.” You confess, imagining what could happen if you have sex again and again. You might never leave his house.

Dieter giggles, always in a good mood when he cums and is the most relaxed he’s ever felt. No drug has ever quite managed to replicate that feeling and it’s even better with you. “Fuck, we should keep doing this.” He tells you breathlessly. “Best fucking sex ever.”

You fluster, certain he’s just saying that in the haze of his orgasm, but you whimper your agreement, “so good.” You sigh and shift to move off of him but he whines, grabbing your ass to keep you close. “Your cum is gonna ruin your sofa.” You giggle and he kisses along your chest and up to your neck.

“I’ll buy a new fucking sofa.” He half jokes, kissing your chin and you suddenly pull back to smirk at him.

“Or you could clean up your mess?”

Dieter groans, spent cock twitching at the idea of licking his cum out of you. “You want that, baby?” He coos, leaning in to nudge his nose against yours sweetly. “You want me to lick my cum out of your pussy and see if you can cum harder on my tongue than you did on my cock?”

You moan, body lighting up at his words, and you shift to lay down on the sofa but he shakes his head, helping you stand up. “Want to save the sofa.” He jokes and you stand on shaking legs. He grabs your calf, lifting your foot to rest on the back of his sofa and you wobble, grabbing his head and he groans when you tug on his hair, his dark eyes honing in on the cum that’s threatening to drip out of your cunt. You whimper and he leans forward to slide his tongue through your folds.

“Fuck.” You gasp, nearly folding over as he starts to lick his cum from inside of you.

His eyes flutter shut and he groans at the taste of his seed mixed with your slick. It’s like ambrosia and he eagerly pushes his tongue deeper inside you. His fingers dig into your thigh, pressing his face deeper as he eats you out sloppily. Not wanting to miss a drop and wanting to make you cum again while he recovers enough to fuck you. His flaccid cock hangs between his thighs as he kneels in front of you, your combined cum drying on his skin and he loves it. Amazed that he is being allowed to touch you after being told no earlier, he’s eager to prove you make the right choice.

Your moans echo in his living room and you cry out when he sucks on your clit. “Fuck baby. I- I - shit. You - you like that?” You ask breathlessly, “you like tasting our cum combined? You’re a dirty boy, aren’t you?” You shift into another aspect of your sexuality as you coo to Dieter, feeling how desperate he is with how hard he’s gripping your thighs.

Fuck. Dieter practically whimpers into your pussy as you find the magical fucking words for him. He loves being called a dirty boy, a good boy whatever. It taps into his need to please and that praise kink that he has. Nodding as he works his tongue into your cum soaked walls, he happily slurps up your cum and his along with the saliva he had deposited as if it is the nectar of the Gods. Your fingers tangle into his hair and twist around the curls to make him groan even louder when you start to tug on it.

You love how eager he is, sliding his tongue into your cunt and his nose pressed against your clit. You are wound up from your prior orgasm so it doesn't take long for you to cum. You nearly pull his hair out as you cum, gripping his locks and crying his name as you shake above him.

Moaning, he feels your walls flutter about his tongue and he loves the way your thighs try to squeeze his head. Wanting to suffocate right here in your cunt. He pulls his tongue out and laps at your clit until your hips jerk back, needing to get away from his mouth. Looking up at you, he licks his lips and grins, basking in the blissed out expression on your face.

Looking down at him, your heart pounds in your chest and you can’t help but surge forward to press your lips to his, awkwardly shifting to kneel in front of him so you can get closer. “Baby. Oh baby, that was so good.” You moan into his mouth, kissing along his jaw and you notice he’s half hard again. You reach down, wrapping your fingers around him to squeeze him.

Dieter groans into your mouth, cock twitching and he gets even harder under the gentle squeezes of your hand. “Fuck.” He pants quietly, pulling back and looking into your eyes. “Did I - you liked it?” Despite hearing how good it is, he needs to hear more. The need to make it good for you is nearly overwhelming.

“So good baby. You’re such a good boy.” You have picked up on his reaction to your praise and you are happy to shower him with praise. His cock twitches in your hand and you let go so you can spit into your palm, moaning when you take him back into your hand and pump him.

His mouth drops open and his eyes flutter closed as you start to stroke his cock. Breathing heavily, his hips start to shift up, chasing the exquisite feeling of your hand in his length. “Fuck.” He moans quietly, sure that he would just want you to jerk him off forever if it felt like this. “I’m good.” He mumbles, nearly to himself.

“You’re so good.” You promise, leaning forward to kiss his neck. “You’re so good to me. Making me cum like a good boy.” You murmur against his skin and you let go of him, making him whine. You chuckle and shift to kneel down, taking him in your hand again so you can lean forward to wrap your lips around the head of his cock, teasingly lapping up the drop of pre-cum that gathered there.

The noise Dieter makes is one of surprised agony. You would think that with his fame, he would get blow jobs all the time but he doesn’t. The feeling of your mouth is incredible and he barely restrains himself from grabbing the back of your head. Reaching out and grabbing the coffee table instead and lifting his hips until he's on his knees so you don’t have to bend over so much.

You moan in appreciation of him shifting to make it easier and you take him deeper. Cupping his balls while you bob your head on his cock, you take him deeper with each move, wanting him to moan your name again and again.

“Oh shit, oh shit baby.” Dieter moans, rolling his head back and looks up at the ceiling before he remembers there is a view in front of him and quickly snaps his head back down. Your lips around his cock look amazing and he twitches in response to the sight. “Fuck baby, your mouth, it’s so- so good. Oh God look at you taking my dick down your throat.” He whines, shuddering when your tongue presses against the slit.

You take him deeper, choking as you try to swallow around him, and you love his praise, stomach twisting as you enjoy pleasuring him. You’ve never really been a fan of giving blowjobs but you find yourself loving giving him one. You want him to cum down your throat. Hollowing your cheeks, you push yourself to take him further down your throat, your eyes watering as you look up at him.

Choking out your name, Dieter nearly hunches over. His body tensing and shuddering as he comes close to the edge. You swallow around him and he’s done for. A cry ripping from his lips as he starts to cum. Pumping hot ropes of cum down your throat and starting to whine at how good it feels emptying his balls again so soon after cumming earlier.

You focus on swallowing every drop. You struggle but you want him to love every second of this. You manage to get every single drop, letting him slowly work his length in and out of your mouth while he rides his high. When he whines with overstimulation, you pull back off of him, licking your lips as you let his cock fall from your mouth.

“Fucking hell.” He groans, looking down at you like you are the most precious thing on the planet. “You’re amazing.” He groans, reaching out to cup your cheek and not realizing that his bracelet must have fallen off while he was eating you out.

Your eyes widen when you turn your head to kiss his palm and see the mark on his wrist. “Dieter…” You whisper, eyes wide and you grab his forearm so you can look at the mark. “Your mark…” You trail off again, swallowing harshly and eyes wide as you inspect it and sit up straight.

He immediately pulls his arm back, getting protective over the mark, “my fucking bracelet.” He hisses, looking around for it.

“No. No. I - I-” You choke out, fumbling to undo the bracelet on your own wrist. “I- it’s -” You can’t speak as you take the jewelry off and shove your wrist towards him so he can see it on your skin. The same mark as his. Your heart thumps in your chest, unable to believe you’ve found your soulmate and it’s him. He’s staring at you and you smile, almost giddy with joy that this crazy, handsome man is your soulmate.

Dieter’s heart drops and he hears the psychic’s voice echoing in his head, telling him that his soulmate would ruin him. Scrambling to his feet, Dieter backs up, nearly tripping over the sofa the two of you had joked about earlier. “Get out.” His voice cracks and he can barely speak. “No.” He shakes his head, hating how the best fucking sex he’s had in forever is his fucking soulmate. “Get out! No! I don’t- you can’t- no!” He shouts, snatching up his boxers and hopping on one leg as he tries to pull them on. “You’re not going to do it!”

Your eyes widen as he scrambles to get away from you. Hurt clear as day on your face as he outwardly rejects you. “Dieter. I don’t - I don’t understand. Why are you-? What - I’m not doing anything.” You stand up, suddenly hating the fact that you’re naked and you shift to grab your clothes from the floor. “I’m so confused. Are you not happy?”

“You- you’re going to ruin me.” Dieter spits out frantically, wondering if it’s already happened since he fucked you. “She told me- she told me you would. I can’t- you can’t do that to me.” He whines, nearly about to cry at the fact that you’re funny and beautiful and make him feel good - yet you would ruin him. “I need- I need to do something.” He murmurs to himself, looking around for his bracelet. “A cleansing, a charm, something.”

To say you’re hurt is an understatement. You watch him frantically look for his phone. You feel tears prick in your eyes as you pull your panties on and your jeans. “I- I’m sorry I’ve disappointed you.” You choke, tears now streaming down your cheeks and you cover your mark with your bracelet again. You’ve dreamed of this moment, to meet your soulmate. You’ve wondered who they were since you were a little girl and found out about soulmates. You’ve finally met him and he doesn’t want you. “I’ll go. I- oh God.” You pull your shirt on, shoving your bra into your pocket, “I’ll go.”

The hurt in your tone makes Dieter pause, looking over at you. You look miserable, like he’s stolen your puppy or crushed your dreams. It makes his heart clench and he wants nothing more than to rush over to you and soothe you. Until he remembers what you will do to him. He shakes his head. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, wishing he hadn’t slept with you. Knowing that he’s going to remember you for a long time. “I- I can’t. Please, you need to understand.”

You shake your head, pulling your shoes on and you grab your purse. “I don’t understand. I don’t. You just - some people never find their soulmate and you’re just throwing it away. For what reason? I don’t - I don’t understand. You haven’t explained and I just - I was so happy and you’re not happy. I’ll leave.” You sob, barely able to see through your tears, your heart aching as he rejects you.

“I-I’m sorry.” Dieter offers, hating the tears on your face, but he can’t risk it. You don’t answer, rushing out the door and leaving him alone staring at the door. “Shit.” He hisses, rubbing the side of his face and wishing that his stomach didn’t feel like it was twisting in on itself. Or that his heart didn’t hurt. “I’ll go back to the psychic.” He decides, nodding to himself as he rushes towards the stairs. “She’ll tell me I did the right thing.”

****

“You’re back.” The psychic smiles when Dieter walks into her place, deciding to not call her to him again.

“I’m back and I want an explanation.” He demands, slamming his hand down on the counter and he is pissed. “An explanation about what?”

“Tell me how she ruins me.” Dieter demands, turning his hand over and showing her his palm along with the mark that you also wear on your own wrist. He hadn’t been able to make himself cover it again. It burns, like he’s been touched by fire. “I’ve met her. I fucked her before I knew it was my soulmate. Tell me how she ruins me.” This time he is begging, the image of your hurt and upset face burning in his mind. It’s all he’s been able to think about.

The psychic sighs, “I can’t tell you how she ruins you. That’s not how this works.” She gestures for Dieter to sit down. “Have you considered that maybe she will ruin you is not going to be a bad thing? Maybe she ruins you in a good way and you will be happier because of it. She could ruin you for all your sexual partners, they could pale in comparison, ruin you for your friends, no one could compare to her. Ruin your constant partying and drug abuse…it just depends on the interpretation.”

He shakes his head, scowling harshly. “That’s not what you said! You said she would be my salvation and ruin me…” Dieter breaks off and thinks hard, his heart flipping and his stomach lurching at the fact that he might have been wrong about this. “I- I rejected h-her.” He stutters, looking back at the psychic again. “What have I done? Did- did I fuck up?”

The psychic raises her eyes at him, “you’re an incredible actor. You are successful and wealthy, yet the best thing that could’ve happened to you…you rejected her. She might ruin you in the perfect way. You cannot mess with destiny, Mr. Bravo. She is yours and you are hers. Both of you will suffer if you try to fight fate.”

“You didn’t tell me that.” Dieter whines, panicking now that he’s realizes his badly he’s fucked up. “I can fix it, right? She- I haven’t totally screwed up? Tell me I didn’t.” He demands, thinking about how amazing it had been with you before he knew who you were.

She shakes her head and shrugs, “I cannot say. You need to find her. To tell her you’re sorry and try to heal the pain. Until you do, that mark on your arm will continue to burn. You need her and she needs you. Not many soulmates can survive without each other for long. Go find her.” The psychic orders, seeing the pain in his eyes.

“Shit.” Dieter digs his wallet out of his jeans and shoves some bills onto the table. “I need to find her.” He mumbles to himself. “I need to find her now. My agent.” He snaps his fingers and tunes around, not even bothering to say goodbye as he rushes out of the psychic’s shop.

****

To say you’ve been wallowing since you left Dieter’s house is an understatement. You haven’t left the house, been too busy crying and burrowed under your blankets, mindlessly watching television. When a commercial for Dieter’s new movie comes on, you start to sob. It’s hard to believe that your soulmate rejected you. The mark on your arm has been burning since you left his house and you try to ignore it but it’s another reminder of what happened.

When the doorbell rings, you figure it’s your takeout and drag yourself to the front door. “Can you leave it?” You croak out, wiping your eyes. When you don’t hear footsteps, you sigh and open the door, prepared to let the delivery driver see your breakdown. “Dieter?” You gasp in shock at seeing him on your doorstep.

He shuffles nervously, expecting you to scream at him like he deserves or slap him. He wouldn’t blame you. “I- I got your address from my- my agent.” He explains. “Can I come in? I need to talk to you.” You should tell him no but he can tell you’ve been miserable and it’s all his fault. His fingers twitch, wanting to reach out to touch you, comfort you, but he doesn’t. You don’t want him touching you after he fucked up, especially since he hasn’t apologized.

You stare at him for several moments before you nod, knowing you need closure. You step aside and let him into your home. It’s nothing like his. Pokey and tiny compared to his big mansion. You shut the door when he moves inside your home and you cross your arms, trying to protect yourself. “What-” You clear your throat, “what are you doing here?”

“I- uh?” Now that he’s here, he can’t remember how he wanted to start this. The lines that he had come up with float out of his head as he looks at you. Hating that you’ve obviously been crying because of him. He looks down at his wrist and wonders if your mark burns like his. “I- I might have overreacted.” He admits, huffing quietly at himself. “The psychic told me that my soulmate would ruin me but she didn’t tell me how and I- I decided that I just wouldn’t let that happen.”

You frown at him, “psychic? What psychic?” You scoff at his poor excuse and shift to open the door to make him leave but he slams his hand against it to keep it open.

“I had a psychic come see me in my hotel room and she read my tarot cards and told me that I’d meet my soulmate and she would ruin me. She’d be my salvation and my damnation. I freaked out and promised I wouldn’t meet her and then I met her and well…” He trails off and you scoff

“You met her and you hate her.” You finish for him, letting go of the door so you can cross your arms, “I didn’t exactly expect my soulmate to be Dieter Bravo. The orgy king of L.A. Avid cocaine user and attached to every ‘baby mama’ story the tabloids run.” You fire back at him and he winces, “but then I met you and I- I realized how smart you are, how funny you are. You’re more than your rumors. I accepted you despite your faults and you couldn’t do that for me. You didn’t want me and I have to accept that, even if it destroys me. The irony…you’ve pushed me away to not ruin yourself…at the cost of ruining me.”

“You’re great.” Dieter shakes his head, shame filling him at what you’ve said because it’s true. “I do want you - that’s what scared me. I’ve never-“ he blows out a sigh. “I’ve never had someone that is so easy to be with. You talked to me like I’m a normal person, spent time with me. Touched me and not because I’m ‘Dieter Bravo’.” He shakes his head. “I was already thinking about how I could get you to spend more time with me and when I saw the mark- I fucked up and freaked out.”

You stare at him, “yeah you fucked up.” You tell him after several moments and he swallows harshly, hand lifting towards you until he drops it. “You fucked up but you’re standing here on my doorstep and all I want to do is pull you close and breathe you in. My body feels like I can’t get close enough to you. The mark burns and I- I can’t and it’s all your fault because I’m scared you’re going to reject me again. When you’ve gotten more sex, or just more time, what’s gonna stop you from deciding it’s over again and leaving me. Especially if I know what’s gonna happen. I’m gonna fall for you. I’m gonna fall so damn hard and you’re going to hurt me because you’re going be scared of what could happen.”

“What if it’s a good thing?” Dieters heart clenches and he knows you aren’t going to give him another chance. “What if it’s the best thing that ever fucking happens to us?” Tears start to pool in his eyes and he shakes his head. “Ruining me for someone else? For drugs? I didn’t -I won’t hurt you again. I promise.” He drops down to his knees, the mark burning so badly that he’s hissing in pain and grabbing it. “I want to make it up to you. To- to try. To have you- look at me like you did before I saw the fucking mark. I- shit-“ he scrunches up his face and nearly sobs. “I think I fell in love with you already.”

You drop to your knees, reaching for his forearm so you can trace the mark with your fingers, watching him relax instantly, and your eyes flick up to meet his. “Just because we are soulmates doesn’t mean we won’t argue or hurt each other sometimes. That’s life. Shit happens but I- I want to try.” You’re forgiving him and you know he regrets what happened. It should’ve been a happy moment and he ruined it. “I want you Dieter. I want to be yours. I want you to be mine.” You let go of his forearm so you can cup his cheeks, “I think I already love you but that’s crazy, right?”

His lip trembles and he searches your eyes hopefully, not seeing the rejection he knows he had given you. “Not crazy.” He insists, lunging forward and pressing his lips to yours desperately. Moaning when you don’t push him away, and his hands come up and cups your cheek and the back of your head.

Home. That’s the only way you can describe his kiss. It’s like coming home. You sigh against his lips, tangling your fingers in his hair to pull him closer, and you sigh when his tongue slides against yours. It’s like the stress has melted away and you’re where you belong. Kissing Dieter Bravo in your hallway, kneeling on the floor.

Once you’ve let him touch you, it’s like he can’t stop. Pulling away and kissing your cheeks, nose, forehead and chin in a random, scattered pattern. “I’m sorry.” Whispered over and over again as he tries to make up for the hours of agony he’s put you through.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” You promise, pressing your lips to his. You want to feel him close and pressed against you. “Dieter, baby, I need you.” You want him to reassure you that he wants you, you need it like you need oxygen. You pull back, shifting to stand up and you hold your hand out towards him, “come on baby.”

He takes your hand, wondering if he is imagining things. Are you talking about sex? Is he that lucky that you understand that he is a physical person? “Whatever you want, baby, I’ll do whatever.” He promises, pushing to his feet and trailing along behind you like an eager puppy.

You guide him to your bedroom, your bed is messy and you fluster but turning to look at Dieter, his loving look making your embarrassment fade away. “I want you. I need you.” You declare, letting go of his hand so you can lean in, pressing your lips to his and you slide your hands down his chest, playing with the hem of his ratty shirt.

Dieter groans, euphoric at the need that he hears in your voice. “I need you too, baby.” He promises, his cock starting to harden instantly now that he’s gotten your forgiveness. His own hands grip your waist and slide around to squeeze your ass playfully. “I need to make this up to you with orgasms.” He murmurs, leaning in and nipping your jaw.

You pull his shirt over his head, forcing him back, and you immediately trace his tattoos, fingers caressing his skin while he leans in to kiss along your neck, his fingers pulling your shirt over your head. “Lots of orgasms.” You remind him and he chuckles, nodding his head,

“You can sit on my face.” He offers, immediately reaching for your bra so he can touch your tits. “Want you to sit on my face. Smother me in your pussy.”

You let him remove your bra, excited to feel his tongue again and you reach for his pants, wanting to see all of him again. “Dieter. I want you naked.” You demand, pushing the sweatpants down to expose his hard cock. “Shit. This is mine.” You exhale in awe, wrapping your fingers around his cock.

“Yours, baby.” He groans, his eyes fluttering closed as he lets you pump his cock. “All yours, you’ve got the best pussy. Best pussy I’ve ever fucked. Jesus.” He pants when you press your thumb against the leaking head. “Lay down, I want to lick my pussy. Want to make you cum all over me.” He begs, wanting you to feel good. “Does- is your mark still burning?”

“No. It’s not burning anymore.” You moan at his words, reluctantly letting go of his cock and you push your shorts down, standing naked in front of him. He groans and shifts to guide you over to the bed. “I thought I was riding your face.” You remind him and he nods, laying down. You shift to kneel on the bed, straddling his chest and he grabs your ass, dragging you up to hover over his face.

“Fuck, look at that pussy.” Dieter groans, watching your cunt flutter as you move towards his mouth. “Gonna make you feel so good.” He promises right before he drags your hips down and lunges forward so he can flatten his tongue through your folds with a filthy groan.

The moan you let out is loud, full of relief, and almost desperate as his tongue slides through your folds. He’s hungry, eager to please and make up for his mistake, and you grind down onto his face, hissing when he sucks your clit into his mouth. “Oh shit, Dieter. So- so good baby. You’re such a good boy.” You praise him, grinding down onto his face and you grip your headboard.

He shudders under you, letting the tangy taste of your cunt explode in his mouth as he greedily laps at you. With the right encouragement, Dieter is giving, submissive like now. Your praising moans fuel the need to hear more with every swipe of his tongue and he pulls your ass cheeks apart and pulls you up so he can run his tongue from your clit to your puckered hole.

“Fuck!” You gasp out, not expecting that but fuck you like that. You rock on his tongue so he pushes it into your tight muscle and you whine his name. “Oh God, that feels so good.” You moan and he slides his tongue into your cunt, walls fluttering around the muscle.

Dieter chuckles as he starts tongue fucking you. Wanting you to cum and his tongue to be the one to do it. To make up for the pain he had caused. Caressing your hip, he can’t believe that he almost let his beautiful soulmate get away because he was a fucking idiot. Encouraging you to rock on his tongue, Dieter whines, his cock fully hard and leaking against the soft swell of his belly and he wishes he could jerk off while he eats you out.

You moan his name, rocking onto his tongue and you look over your shoulder to see his leaking cock. Unable to stop yourself, you reach back to wrap your fingers around his length, starting to jerk him as much as possible while he works you up towards your orgasm. “Fuck Diet- I - You’re gonna make me cum.”

You cry out when he sucks your clit harder, making you moan his name as you shake. Thighs pressed against his cheeks, you cum with a cry out his name, your grip on his cock slackening as pleasure overtakes your senses.

He whines as you soak his face, loving it. Greedily slurping down as much as he can as you coat his face in your slick. Pouting when you pull your hips back, your hand letting go of his cock when the sensations get too much for you. Dieter pants, looking up at you completely pussy drunk and he caresses your thigh as you sit on his chest.

“Holy fuck.” You pant, appreciating the best orgasm of your life. You shuffle back, leaning down to press your lips to his, sliding your tongue into his mouth, and you moan when he grabs your hips, using his weight to roll you onto your back. He pulls back to look down at you, a silly smile on his face.

“Hi.” He whispers and you chuckle, reaching up to playfully tug on his earring, “hi.” You whisper back and he leans in to nudge his nose against yours, his cock against your thigh.

You spread your legs wider, letting him know what you want, and he kisses your lips for a few moments. “Baby please. Need you inside of me.”

It’s music to his ears, grinning as he shuttles his hips back slowly so he can line up. “You’re wet.” He groans as he pushes forward just an inch, burying the head of his cock inside you. “I like that.” This time, he takes his time and keeps his eyes open, watching you as he slowly slides into your cunt, sinking deep until his hips are grinding into you as he feels like he’s in your guts. “Fuuuuuuck.”

You lose your ability to speak and his groan does you justice as you nod, mouth open in silent agreement. He feels so fucking good it’s ridiculous. Stretching you out yet he doesn’t hurt, he’s made for you and you for him. “Fuck baby.” You eventually gasp, feeling his cock twitch deep is deep of you. “You feel - oh God. Amazing. Fucking amazing.”

“Fucking a-amazing.” He pants out in agreement, starting to slowly rock in and out of you. “So good baby, my soulmate is so good.” He turns his head and presses his lips to yours. Needing to be as close as possible to you. Loving how your arms wind around him, pulling him closest to you.

You caress his shoulders and back, playfully reaching down to squeeze his ass, pushing him deeper inside of you somehow to push against your clit. “Fuck that’s good.” You moan and he repeats the action, making your eyes roll into the back of your head.

It takes nothing more to spur him on. Holding his weight over you and starting to grind into you just like you want. “Love you.” He chokes out, starting to chant it every time he pushes deep. “Love you, love you.”

Your heart pounds at his words, your head knowing it’s crazy to feel this way about a man you’ve only known for less than a day. Your nails dig into his back as he fucks you how you want, “I love you. I love you.” You moan and wrap your legs around his waist, getting even closer and the coarse hair at the base of his cock rubs you just right, sending you over the edge with a cry of his name.

Dieter keens, gritting his teeth and unable to stop himself from cumming. The vice grip on his cock along with the liquid heat of your cum pushes himself over the edge. He pushes deep and collapses on top of you, grinding his hips with small whines of your name as he floods your walls with his cum again, this time having every intention of staying right where he is after he’s done.

You caress his shoulders, sliding your hands up to run your fingers through his hair. He pushes his cum deep and he rocks himself through his orgasm and you kiss his jaw, letting him catch his breath. “I’ve never felt like this before. So complete.”

He closes his eyes, and hums, his lips twisting slightly into a smile. “Soooo complete.” He mumbles, tucking his face against your neck and promising himself that he’s going to sleep just like this. “So good, baby, so fucking good.” He sighs, body relaxed and he giggles slightly when your hand runs down his back and finds a ticklish spot right above his ribs.

You chuckle, kissing his hair as you tickle that spot again. “You wanna sleep like this?” You ask and he whines in agreement, cock now soft inside of you. “I’m exhausted.” You confess, knowing you barely slept. He shifts so his weight is off of you, moving you onto your side and your leg is thrown over his hip. “Let’s sleep. Tomorrow is the start of the rest of our lives.” You promise and Dieter knows that would’ve scared the shit out of him but now he’s excited for the future. The psychic was right, you have ruined him. In the best fucking way possible.

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