#hire a fucking pr manager

[realdirtfacts]

teespring sucks and you should get out asap

I vented about this on twitter cause that's the screaming cup, but I can bitch here too cause it's stupid -- teespring hasn't paid their creators in a month or more. They removed the support and zendesk buttons from their website completely and the CEO sent everyone a very non-apology apology email telling everyone to not be frustrated and be patient, lol.

This has been a big problem for myself since March or so, when their payments began to slow down from every week or so to every 10-12 days, then 2 weeks, then 3, etc. Shifty's store makes up over half of my income because I am on disability. I can't even afford my RENT without teespring. They owe me money going back into June. I've been living off the admin team and the kind people in the Shifty discord for months while I attempt to budget and predict money that just isn't coming. I can't afford to restock our Junk Boxes. I can't afford a fucking happy meal.

CEO of sprong has promised everyone will be paid by August 29th. They are officially blaming this on a bug related to a very recent website update but I suspect they're just fucking broke because they jumped in on some late stage NFT bullshit. They tried to make us shill Poot Coins at you guys. Like I said, this ain't no recent problem, they have been slowing down for months. The pathetic nature of their official communication shows all the red flags of a company dying. We were already in the process of leaving teespring for fourthwall because of how bad they've fucked up other shit this year. I am trying to speed up the move but we have so much SHIT in our store that it's a constant fight with my ADHD to stay on track and keep it moving.

If you have a teespring store and want to move to fourthwall, let me know in dms or send an ask. I have a limited amount of invites. They got print on demand, digital, donations, AND sell from home so I can now sell junk boxes and shirts in one store. They pay on the first of the month every month instead of wildly random like sprong.

#didi's bitching #teespring #fourthwall #all their ceo emails sound so fucking whiny #every time they fuck up they whine #hire a fucking pr manager #I have a pr person and I'm fucking nobody!! #first thing I asked my fw manager is you aren't making me sell nfts are you #lol #this isn't me asking for money I'm gonna sell more shit dw

[finexbright]

.

#just saw lottie's post and 💀 she desperately needs to hire a pr manager cause this is so fucked up #will not be answering any asks about this sorry #i'm talking about her latest post

[deluweil]

People are joking about ABC realizing why FOX put Ryan in interview jail - Without realizing the consequences of what FOX and KR have done.

Actors don't say anything that they aren't allowed to say, that is Hollywood's iron rule when filming a project.

Whatever Ryan is saying, he was given permission to do it.

ABC sees and understands the ramification of the homophobic narrative forced on the show on FOX's network they can see the bad writing and the altogether 'don't give a fuck about this' attitude the show was getting from it's showrunners.

ABC wouldn't take something that is circling the drain just to continue with the bad form of handling the show got so far.

Now Ryan, bless him, he loves Buck and he loves Oliver and thank God he loves Eddie, he understands the character better than anyone, he also knew where it was supposed to go when Murphy first hired him.

KR taking over put a wrench in that original plan but the choices made by both writers and actors on screen showed her exactly where she could shove her heteronormative narrative.

ABC is simply amplifying the obvious cast and writers cry and giving them a safe heaven to exist in peace.

It's not for nothing that the publicity and the premiere party were this big, this is a promise to the cast and crew that they will be treated better than the crap hole FOX network treated them.

Now, I don't know what will happen, but gay storyline or not, Eddie does love Buck to the core, it doesn't have to be in a romantic sense, it can be in any way possible, that saying alone does not scream gay, everything else that happened in the story up until now, however, does.

Because in CF Severide and Casey loved each other to the core in their best friend way, Vic and Travis love each other to the core in Station 19 without there being a romantic entanglement, Gibson loved Miller until he died still managing to stay straight lol and same for Cruz and Otis in CF - both had gfs both loved each other like brothers.

Eddie loves Buck, it doesn't have to mean anything romantic unless it was played into it, 911 leaned into it and failed to follow through on FOX, I am hoping ABC gives them that last shove.

After all, ABC is the home of Station 19, Home of the beautiful Marina pair, and the first male bi-character, finally, portrayed brilliantly by Eli in S6.

So stop saying Ryan is simply burning the house down, he does better PR for this show than all the anemic interviews Oliver was instructed to give so far.

Again, not Oliver's fault, KR made him, picked her favorite and dragged him down with her kicking and screaming. Shame on her and FOX.

#a little psa #ryan guzman #eddie diaz #evan buckley #oliver stark #911 spoilers #911 speculation #911 abc #fox and KR suck! #thank you ryan! #buddie

[absurdthirst]

Accidentally Mrs. Bravo {Dieter Bravo x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 24.8k

Warnings: Drug use, alcohol, dub con due to spiked drinks, vaginal sex, oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal fingering, Dieter being a sub, face sitting, period oral (Dieter has his red wings), hand jobs, angst, Dieter being a sassy asshole. 

Comments: Being PR for Dieter Bravo is a nightmare, the idea of him going to Vegas for a birthday weekend absolutely horrifies you. Even more when it’s suggest you go with him. It’s going to be horrible, you just know it. Especially when you wake up married to him. 

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers​

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

|| 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.

When Dieter told his team he wanted to go to Vegas for his birthday, you had told him no. As his PR manager, Dieter and Vegas are a bad combination. God knows what he’d do when fuelled by drugs, gambling and endless booze. Surrounded by people with camera phones and men and women who would want him to fuck them. Maybe get knocked up. You get a headache even thinking about it. When his manager suggested you accompany him to make sure he says out of trouble, you protested and put your foot down, telling her that you hate Vegas. It’s a cesspool of bad decisions. However, the next thing you know you’re on a private jet going to Vegas while Dieter snorts coke off of the mahogany table while his “friends” drink champagne. You know this is going to end in Disaster.

Inhaling deeply, Dieter throws his head back, letting the endorphins rush through his system and he lets out a loud whoop. “Fuck, that’s some good shit!” He crows and looks around, spotting you sitting in one of the plush leather chairs across from the couch with a sour look on your face. “You want some?” He asks, offering you the one hundred dollar bill he had rolled up to snort the coke with. “Maybe it’ll get that stick out of your ass.”

You watch him with disgust. You might have been hired to handle his PR but the man makes it a never ending job. Being caught with prostitutes, arrested with coke possession and a general bad attitude with paps has made you have many a sleepless night. This trip will be no exception. “No, thank you.” You respond coolly, shaking your head. “The stick will remain firmly in my ass for the entire trip.” 

Dieter chuckles, pulling his hand back, “I bet you like having something up your ass.” His joke makes you roll your eyes and you cross your legs, looking out of the window.

Huffing at your lack of appreciation for his joke, Dieter passes the rolled up bill off to one of his friends and frowns at you. “Why are you here if you don’t want to have fun?” He whines. “You should have stayed in L.A.” He doesn’t want you here. All you do is complain about his behavior, his manners, the way he dresses. He wants to relax and have fun, not be nagged to death by a fish wife. If he wanted that, he would get married.

“I don’t want to be here but your team - including me - thought it would be best to come with you to control what happens. The last thing you need with your new movie coming out is a mug shot.” You tell him. “Besides, I have fun. My fun just doesn’t involve doing copious amounts of drugs, having sex with prostitutes, and drinking more tequila than what’s available in the entire country of Mexico.” 

Dieter scoffs, “what do you do to have fun? Read?” His words make you bristle, swallowing down your retort that reading would be better than spending him in his company. 

“Just behave yourself and we won’t have any issues.” You finally respond, glancing around at his “friends.” All people who are here because of what he can give them, not because they like him as a person.

“I always behave myself.” Dieter gives you an offended look and shakes his head. “Just because I don’t adhere to your version of behaving doesn’t mean I don’t behave.” He chuckles and looks around the plane. “Haven’t you ever just had fun? Fuck what they say or what they think? Just be yourself?”

You try not to react, but his words hit. You went to college for media and you ended up getting a job right out of college with a PR firm. You needed to prove yourself and that meant working all hours. You’ve never really let your hair down and done whatever you wanted. You huff, shaking your head at him. “You don’t behave. You make my job so much harder. I’d hate to see you when you’re not behaving.”

“Have I flashed my dick at the paps?” He asks you, titling his head and smiling in amusement at the mental image of doing just that. “Or come up with some love child with a prostitute? Because I’ve fucked a lot of women. It could have happened.”

God, you hate this man. He’s so self indulgent it infuriates you. He does what he wants, when he wants. Damn the consequences. “Just try to not let either of those things happen during this weekend.” You reach for your phone, deciding to check your emails while he continues to indulge. 

When the pilot announces the plane will be landing soon, you steel yourself for what will no doubt be an exhausting weekend. The plane lands and the limos are waiting on the tarmac. Dieter’s assistant - who luckily has the weekend off - had arranged every detail even down to the baggie of coke waiting for him in the limo.

“Vegas baby!” Dieter squints and nods his head so that his sunglasses flip down onto his nose and he pushes them up. He wraps his arm around the girl he had met just this morning who had said she would be willing to go to Vegas with him. He smirks as he looks back at you, “try to keep up.” He tells you before he and the bottle blonde he’s wrapped around stumble down the plane’s stairs onto the tarmac.

You scoff in disgust, watching him squeeze the woman’s ass when she gets into the limo. He’s wearing sunglasses and it’s fucking nighttime. What an asshole. You get into the limo, sitting in the far corner and he has already found the baggie. This is going to be the weekend from hell. The woman kisses his jaw and he manages to snort some coke off of her tits when she pushes them together. “Classy.” You mutter, ignoring the entourage.

Dieter doesn’t even pay attention to you, too busy motor boating Cindy, or was it Kathy? He doesn’t know, nor does he really care. He just wants to get to the hotel and get another bottle of champagne. “We should hit the club!” Someone suggests, and like the easily distracted creature that he is, Dieter latches onto the idea. 

“A strip club!” He agrees happily. 

You shake your head. “No. No strip clubs.” You put your foot down. You’re not going into a strip club with Dieter Bravo. 

“It’s my fucking birthday. We are doing what I want.” Dieter growls, pissed that you’re doing everything you can to ruin his birthday weekend. 

“No strip clubs.” You repeat, crossing your arms.

“Go sit at the hotel if you don’t want to go.” Dieter huffs. “This limo is going to a strip club.” He lowers the glass between the back and the driver and grins. “Hey Buddy, take us to the best fucking strip club in Vegas. ‘Kay?”

You huff, knowing you have no choice. You can’t leave him be. He would run riot in Vegas. “You don’t want to change?” You ask, “or check into the hotel?” You frown, knowing he’d requested the best suite at Caesars. 

“No. I want to get this party started. We can change later.” Dieter declares. 

“Later? It’s nine.” You check your watch. 

“It’s early for Vegas.” Dieter shrugs and you sigh, knowing you have no choice.

Fueled by cocaine and champagne, Dieter is the first out of the limo when it comes to a stop. He likes the look of the place, the sound of the music is loud but he doesn’t care. Soon enough he will be watching women dance. “Hey, are there men here too?” He asks, suddenly curious. That would be cool. A strip club that caters to men and women, or people who like men and women.

You exhale deeply, trying to remain calm as you follow the group into the strip club. It's loud and full of bodies - both men and women. Some partly dressed, some naked as the day they were born. A half naked man walks past and you fluster when he winks at you. You have never been somewhere like this and you're no virgin but your life has been pretty vanilla.

It’s nothing but VIP for the group. Even if Dieter wasn’t recognized, a few folded up bills passed to the server assures that you are quickly seated at the best tables. “Uh huh, I want a dance from her and him.” Dieter lowers his glasses and leers over the rim with a grin on his face as a pair of dancers walk past. He turns to watch the rear view and catches sight of you. “I’ll even buy you a dance.” He tells you, blowing you a kiss. “Get you to loosen up. Tuck a few bills in a G-string.”

You roll your eyes and have a sip of the glass of champagne. You won’t get drunk but a glass or two will help you deal with this asshole all night. Some people ask why you work for him if you can’t stand him but honestly, he’s a PR nightmare and you always said you wanted the hardest cases for a challenge. He’s definitely been the hardest. “Gee thanks.” You respond sarcastically. 

The woman Dieter brought along is a little offended that he wants a dance and she slaps his chest ‘playfully’ and says “what about a private dance from me baby?”

Dieter rolls his eyes and tugs her close. “Of course I want a private dance from you.” He coos, leaning in and presses his lips to her neck and makes her giggle when he playfully bites her. “Later. We’ll have our own little strip tease.” Later on he has no clue what he will be doing, but she’s fun and he will hopefully get lucky. He’s getting laid for his birthday. Or at least a blowjob. “Don’t you want to shove some bills into his g-string?”

You huff, deciding you might as well do something fun for once. You make a grabby gesture and he grins, handing you the bills. You call a man over and he saunters, moving his hips and he holds out his hand. “Oh, I don’t want a dance. Here, take this. Put it towards your education or your rent or food or whatever. Just - take it.” You shove the notes into the man’s hand who is shocked.

Pouting, Dieter rolls his eyes. “God, you are no fun.” He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest and shoots you a glare. “He was hot, he might have enjoyed the stick in your ass.” He’s pissed that he didn’t get to see the man dance, or see if you would fluster and loosen up. He doesn’t care about the money. It’s about having a good time.

You scoff, “you act like he wouldn’t have been nice to me because he’s getting money. All of these people are here because of your money, Bravo. They aren’t your friends, they want your wallet. Especially her.” You point to Cindy, Kathy, whatever her fucking name is. “I’m going to the bathroom.” You huff, standing up and grabbing your purse. You need to calm down and compose yourself if you’re gonna survive an entire weekend of this.

For a split second, Dieter’s face falls, hurt shining in his eyes before he shakes himself slightly and blinks it away. You’re just pissed that you’re here instead of locked away in your depressing house with whatever boring ass book you were going to read. The waitress comes over and he orders a magnum of champagne and glasses for everyone, including you. You’re at his birthday weekend, you are damn well going to celebrate,

When you come back from the bathroom, there’s champagne flowing and you see the glass waiting there for you. You shouldn’t drink it but you have to. You won’t endure tonight without a drink or two…or maybe three. You sit down and pick up the glass, downing it. You choke on the bubbles and Dieter cheers, clapping his hands. “Now we are fucking talking.” 

Little do either of you know that one of his entourage snuck something into your drinks. You sway slightly, a giggle escaping your lips. “Wow. That champagne was so fucking good.” You feel tingly, like you’ve had ten drinks instead of two.

“So you are human.” Dieter gets up and moves around Cindy or Kathy and wedges himself in beside you. His grin is wide and happy and he clinks his glass against yours and takes a large sip of his bubbly. “It’s nice to see it. I didn’t think that I would ever witness you ‘let down your hair’.”

“Don’t get too excited, Bravo. The night is young and I am - I am supposed to be watching over you.” You can’t help the giggle that escapes your lips. You lean against Dieter, all hatred for him seems to have disappeared and you have another glass of champagne. “Happy birthday Bravo.” You cheer, suddenly excited for the night. 

****

You groan at the bright light that shines into the room, your head is throbbing and you can barely open your eyes. Fuck, what happened last night. You don’t remember a thing. You wince, realizing you must’ve drank way too much, and you shift, turning over away from the light and you hit something. Without opening your eyes, you reach out, gasping at the feel of hot skin and you freak out, opening your eyes. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck.” You panic, seeing the familiar tattoos on your boss’s back.

Dieter groans, hearing someone’s panicked voice and shifts, turning over and covering his eyes with his hand. “Throw up on the floor.” He grunts, not wanting to lay in puke if whoever he took to bed is about to get sick. He doesn’t open his eyes and groans again, wanting to go back to sleep.

You slap him, “wake the fuck up!” You slap him again. Shrieking when you realize you’re naked. “You need to wake up now, Dieter. I- we are in bed and - and naked.” You look at him and frown when you see the gold band on his hand. “What the fuck is that?” You reach for his hand, pulling it away from his face and that’s when you see the diamond in your left hand. “What the fuck? Wake up!” You slap him with his own hand.

“Ow! Ow! What the fuck?” Dieter bolts upright and throws his hands up defensively. His eyes are wide and he looks at you like you are crazy. “What the fuck are you doing? I’m sleeping!” He isn’t questioning why you are naked and in his bed. He doesn’t even really care, but dammit, he was enjoying the sleep. And you rudely interrupted it.

“Sleep? How can you sleep when a) we are in bed naked together, and b) WE ARE APPARENTLY FUCKING MARRIED!” You shout, grabbing his hand to show him the new gold band and holding up your own hand. “Oh God. This is - it’s gotta be a joke, right? We aren’t married. We just bought rings.” You try to reason, knowing no matter how drunk you could be, you wouldn’t marry him.

His eyes widen and he looks at your hand and then back at your face for a moment before he busts out laughing. “Oh good job!” He crows. “You had me for a second. And showing me your tits to sell it? Genius.” He chuckles and looks around, spotting a glass of champagne on the nightstand and twists around to grab it, swallowing down the flat champagne. It’s disgusting, but his mouth is dry and he needs something. He pulls the glass down from his lips. “You should stop the bullshit babysitting and act, sweetheart.”

You narrow your eyes at him. "What the fuck are you talking about?" You growl, pissed that he thinks this is some kind of joke. "Do you think this is funny? Bravo, this is - oh God. I think I'm gonna be sick." You scramble to get off of the bed, racing to the bathroom and you kneel down just as you throw up. You gag and cough until you're done before you slump down on the floor, pressing your forehead against the cool porcelain. You inhale deeply and look down, eyes widening at the crusted liquid on your inner thighs. "Oh shit." You hiss, reaching between your legs. You stand up, rinsing your mouth, and stumble back into the bedroom. "We had sex. We had sex." You're in shock.

“What?” Dieter frowns, shaking his head. “You wouldn’t have sex with me. Believe me, I’ve asked.” He had asked you the first day he met you and you had scoffed and acted revolted so he had never asked again. Although you’re standing in front of him naked, and that is something he thought he would never see. “You just probably spilled something on yourself.” He rolls his eyes and flops back onto the bed.

You shake your head, tears in your eyes that he doesn't believe you. "I know what dried cum looks like, you asshole." You spit and search around the room for your phone, knowing you need to find out what happened. When you find your phone, you see the notifications. Opening the first one, your eyes widen. "Oh shit." You read the headline, "Oscar Winning Dieter Bravo Gets Married in Vegas." You scroll until you see the video. "Dieter." You take the phone over to him, hitting play.

A picture is worth a thousand words and apparently a video is worth a million. You and Dieter are obviously intoxicated and grinning happily at each other. In the video, he grabs your ass and hauls you closer while the two of you kiss, tongues tangled and the group that Dieter had brought is cheering and clapping. Pulling away, Dieter looks around. “Now, I’m going to fuck my wife!” He yells out, grabbing your hand and dragging you towards the limo - presumably to take you back to the hotel. “Shit.” Dieter groans, knowing his manager is going to kill him. You probably didn’t sign a prenup.

You cannot believe this. You don't know what happened. You vowed you wouldn't have more than a few drinks, how the hell did you end up blacked out and married to Dieter? "Shit." You echo, wondering what the hell you're gonna do. That video is all over the internet and you know that this press is going to be impossible to tamper. The phone rings and you groan at the name of Dieter's manager flashing on the screen. "Hey Alex. How are you?" You ask, trying to act nonchalant. 

"How am I? How am I? You fucking got married to Dieter. You were hired for PR and you orchestrate the biggest fuck up in the history of fuck ups."

“Hey.” Dieter huffs, hearing her screech over the phone. “I wouldn’t say it’s the biggest fuck up.” He throws the covers off his body, obviously not going to be able to go back to sleep and climbs out of the bed, stretching with a groan. Completely unconcerned with his nudity as he stumbles to the bathroom to take a piss.

You watch him walk into the bathroom, jaw dropping, and you realize now why there's an ache between your thighs. "Not a fuck up? You got married! To your PR manager. Jesus Christ Dieter. You need to fix this." Alex says your name and you bite your lip, unsure of how you can fix it. 

"I- I don't know - he can't just say it was a joke. There's..." You rack your brain. "There's one way but he's gonna hate it." You look towards the bathroom. 

"I don't care. Just fucking fix it. He has a new movie coming out and we don't need the studio on our ass because he has fucked up - because you have fucked up." She hangs up and you stare at the phone, wanting to cry at this entire fucked up situation.

The best thing about Dieter is his ability to go with the flow. Or at least he thinks he does. Often he’s just too strung out, but right now, he’s finding this hilarious. “Just call me Brittany.” He chuckles into the mirror before he groans and reaches for the bottle of antacids that he keeps in his bag, along with his illicit drugs. Getting older sucks. He pops four into his mouth and chews them, reaching down and scratching his balls while he tries to remember if he did anything else last night besides marrying you. That can’t have been the worst thing he did.

You know what the solution is but fuck, you hate it, you really fucking hate it. You grab the shirt he was wearing, throwing it on without care, and you walk towards the bathroom. "We can't get an annulment." You declare. Dieter frowns, turning to look at you, his hand still scratching his balls. 

"Why not?" He huffs. 

"We have to stay married. If we get an annulment now, it will be recorded and the press will get hold of it and it will be a bigger story than it already is. If we stay married, even on paper, for six months or so, we can get an annulment and no one will even care to look because it will be old news."

“We can just say it was an accident.” Dieter shrugs and smirks. “What happens in Vegas and all that.” You shake your head. 

“No Dieter, not what happens in Vegas. That’s the problem!” You shriek and he winces at how loud you get. 

“Jesus, there’s the stick again.” He grumbles and sighs, trying to ignore the fact that you are wearing his t-shirt. “I don’t want to be married to you,” he whines. “Your going to tell me I can’t have sex while we’re married.”

“I won’t be married to you in any way other than a piece of paper. We are going to have to suffer each other for the time being. Once we get the annulment, you will give me a reference so I can move on from this shit show. You - you can fuck whoever you want but you won’t be doing it in public. We need people to think we are really married. You need to act like we are actually married, not just a terrible mistake. You need this to work otherwise you will be a laughing stock. With the cocaine possession and DUI, you can’t afford another fuck up.” You warn him, knowing that the last thing you want is to be married to him but you need this job more, you need that reference more than anything.

Dieter huffs, knowing that you aren’t wrong, but it’s all bullshit. “What the fuck, you don’t do your job and I’m the one punished?” He gripes, hating the entire idea. Especially where you said you would be leaving him. He hates when people leave him. “How did Ms. ‘Holier than thou, stick in her ass’ manage to get married to a man she can’t stand in a Vegas wedding chapel?”

“I don’t - I don’t remember anything past going to the bathroom in the strip club. I - I didn’t do my job? How dare you! I tried to prevent something like this but you bought me the drink and it was poured and - oh fuck. Do you think- do you think our drinks were spiked? Oh fuck. That explains it. One of your goddamn gold digging groupies spiked my drink and now I’m - oh God. I knew I shouldn’t have come along. Oh fuck. Dieter - we got married and had sex and I don’t even remember.” You freak out again, hands shaking as the weight of this settles on you.

Dieter frowns, while he loves using drugs and thinks that you could personally benefit from the occasional snort or toke, he doesn’t like the idea of being unknowingly drugged. Again, completely unconcerned with the fact that he’s naked, he walks over to you. “It’s okay.” He hesitates to reach for you, but then he does, pulling you against him and hugging you. Only slightly awkwardly considering you are just wearing his shirt and it is morning. “I’m sure there’s a video of it.”

You are so distraught that you actually wrap your arms around him and allow him to comfort you. Only for a moment until you realize that you’re married to him. “We need a game plan. What’s done is done and you don’t need anymore bad press so we gotta stay married.” You declare as you pull away from his embrace.

Dieter groans, hating that you keep saying that. Because he knows that means that his fun in Vegas will be over if you have your way. “Just lay low.” He shrugs his shoulders and turns around, wanting to look for the pills that he had yesterday. He spots a silk robe and snatches it up, throwing it on but not bothering to close it. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s not - we got married. It is a big deal. It’s a massive deal. I never - I wanted to get married and not get divorced. I wanted to be in love with the man I married. Not - not just - this mess. Oh God. My parents are going to kill me. Everyone expects you to be this reckless but not me. I’m the sensible one. Always have been. I’ve always had to be good.” You admit, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Dieter turns around and stares at you, amazed that you are so…worried about what your parents are going to say. “You’re legal, right?” He demands, squinting at you as if he could tell your age by staring at you. “Worried about your parents? Why? What are they doing for you? Are they supporting you?”

“Of fucking course I’m legal, you idiot.” You huff, “my parents love me and I love them and they are going to be mad when I tell them I accidentally got married in Vegas to a drug addicted actor.” They had told you that moving to L.A was a bad idea and now you’re inclined to agree. 

“Who cares what they think?” Dieter scoffs, finally finding the baggie. 

“Who cares? I do!” You choke, tears stinging in your eyes again. 

“Then just don’t tell them.” Dieter says, like it’s the easiest thing to do. 

You shake your head, “I can’t lie to my parents. I can’t do it.” You watch Dieter roll his eyes. 

“You can. It’s easy. Just tell them you got married for real and they’ll be disappointed when their favorite son-in-law asks for a divorce in six months time but hey, what can you do? It’s fucking life.” You watch him, knowing your parents are gonna wonder what you say in him compared to your clean cut exes.

Dieter pops three of the pills in his mouth and offers you a couple. “Want some?” He asks and you scoff, shaking your head and looking at him in disgust. 

“Shit like that got us into this situation!” 

He rolls his eyes and closes the bag, shoving it in the pocket of the ridiculous pink silk robe. It only comes down to his thigh and doesn’t cover anything since he hasn’t closed it. “Just release a statement saying that after spending a night with you in Vegas, I realized that I couldn’t deny my feelings anymore.” He tells you. “Or say that we’ve been secretly dating for months and just decided to go for it.”

You are surprised he’s suddenly agreed to go along with it. Your eyes dip down to his impressive - even flaccid - cock and realize why he’s so obnoxious. “I think the secretly dating one is the way to go but you have been out with most of the men and women in L.A in the past six months. We gotta explain that.” Your mind whirls with the best way to cover this up. Your PR mind taking over to try and distract you from the panic that you also had sex with your boss. One thing at a time.

He shrugs, obviously unconcerned about the details. “We’re poly.” He chuckles, knowing that with as stiff as you are, there is no way that you would ever be in situation like that. “Or that it was just a front. Throw people off.” He grunts and scratches his belly. “I’m hungry, are you hungry? You should order us breakfast.” He switches topics suddenly and looks at you expectantly. “Doesn’t the wife take care of her hubby?” He teases with a smirk.

You huff, walking over to the phone and you grab the room service menu. “Aren’t husbands supposed to stop their stupid fake friends from roofieing their staff?” You retort, glad that you only have one more day of this before you return to L.A and you can get away from him. His assistant can run around doing this shit. You order a healthy breakfast, making him pout, and you smirk, “I’m looking after you baby.”

“Look after me by ordering bacon.” Dieter grumbles and sighs when you just lift a brow. “I’m going to shower.” Despite the rumors, he did shower. He just dresses like he doesn’t give a fuck. Because he doesn’t. Shooting you a grin, he waggles his brows. “Wanna join?”

You wrinkle your nose, “absolutely not. You haven’t even asked if I’m on birth control. We had sex last night. I take the pill, by the way.” You inform him and he wrinkles his nose. 

“Too many chemicals. You should just check your basal temperature.” 

You shake your head, “how have you not knocked someone up yet?”

Dieter shrugs, not bothering to tell you that he normally does use a condom. Doubting you would believe him. “Guess I’m just lucky like that.” He eyes you again, seeing the streaks of his dried cum on the inside of your thighs. “You wanna take a bath while I shower then? I know you want to clean away the evidence.” His tone is oddly hurt and he purses his lips at you.

You nod, deciding that a bath sounds nice, especially since your body aches. God knows what he did to you last night. You follow him to the bathroom, bending over to turn on the bath and there’s a flash in your mind of Dieter bending you over the bath, his cock buried deep inside of you. You gasp, making Dieter look over at you. 

“You okay?” He frowns and you nod. 

“I’m fine.” You choke, grabbing the bubble bath.

Rolling his eyes, Dieter leans into the marbled shower to turn on the water. It wouldn’t be so horrible being married to you for a few months if you weren’t such a stick in the mud. You’re hot, he had been grateful that he was battling a headache when you were standing in front of him naked. Or maybe he had too much sex last night. Maybe that was the reason he wasn’t popping a boner at the sight of your tits and bare cunt, because he likes the look of you. “I guess we go home this afternoon?” He asks with a pout. It’s his fucking birthday today and he’s gotten yelled at, scolded and there is zero chance of getting a birthday blowjob from you.

You ponder it for a moment, realizing that you can’t just go home. It would look bad. You need to be seen out and about. “We can’t go home today. It’s best if we go out. We are gonna get swarmed but the public needs to see you and your wife out and happy.I’m sure even you can manage to act like you actually love me. Happy birthday by the way.” You offer him a smile despite being so mad that the thing you tried to prevent had happened.

Your smile throws him for a loop and he just stares at you for a moment. It might be the second time that you’ve smiled at him, a nice smile, since you’ve become his PR person. “Thanks.” He swallows back the urge to make a comment, something dirty that you wouldn’t appreciate and just nods. “Okay. Be seen. We can do that.” He shrugs. “What would be good?”

You test the water before stripping off his shirt to sink into the hot water, a moan escaping your lips at how good it feels on your aching muscles. “I’m thinking we go to dinner. No entourage. Then we go dancing. We gotta appear close and I doubt you’d be spending your birthday apart from your wife. This is just until the news has died down so we can divorce.”

He rolls his eyes at how boring that sounds. No doubt dinner will be talking about how much of a fuck up you think he is and the dancing will be some sedate oldies music where no one there is under one hundred. He shrugs off the robe and steps under the shower spray with a groan. “Sounds great, grandma.” He quips. “Senior specials? Gotta get there before five.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes. “No. I’ll book dinner for nine and then we can go to a club. Not a strip club.” You huff, swaying your hands through the water. His sarcasm has pissed you off since it’s technically his fault that you are in this situation. “I gotta go out and get something nice for a club since everything I brought with me is for a nice dinner and not the club. I guess I gotta dress the part of Mrs. Bravo.” The words make you feel sick but what can you do? You need to keep your job and the way to do that is to create the narrative that you’re in love with the man. As disgusting as he can be, you hope you find something good in him. He’s selfish, indulgent, and completely self obsessed. Traits you would never want to marry, yet here you are.

“Got it, you don’t like strip clubs.” He feels guilty, something that he hates feeling. He doesn’t know why, he didn’t spike your drink, but you are stuck with him because of it. “Take my card when you go shopping.” He tells you, shampoo in his hair. “This is my fault, so you should at least be able to buy what you want until it’s done.”

You want to argue and say you can afford your own things but honestly, you deserve something nice since this wasn't your fault. It was his fake fucking friends. You wash up and wash your face, standing up from the bath just as he steps out of the shower, reaching for the towel. He really is sexy in that Oscar the Grouch kind of way.

Water droplets glisten on his chest as he wraps his towel around his waist, covering himself for the first time since he got out of bed. “You’ll need to stay in this suite too.” Dieter reminds you. “The paps watch the hotel rooms.”

You huff, knowing he’s right, and you wrap the towel around yourself. It’s hard to resist licking up that drop of water going down to his - your mind flashes with an image of you doing just that and you stumble. “Shit.” You hiss and he reaches out to steady you, causing you to pull your arm away. “Do you- do you remember anything from last night?” You ask, curious if he’s having these flashes too.

“I-“ Dieter bites his lip and almost lies to you. “I remember most of last night.” He admits quietly. He’s done so many drugs that some things just kind of stick with him. Especially sex. He knows you will probably be mad at him, since you were drugged too, but he didn’t know that you weren’t just drunk.

Your eyes widen but you’re not surprised. He’s done more drugs than most of the population of California combined. He must have some kind of immunity. “Tell me.” You demand. “Tell me everything.”

“I don’t know.” He swallows harshly and gives a small shrug. “We came back to the hotel, but we started in the limo.” He flashes you a grin. “You demanded I eat you out. Told me that you hadn’t cum on someone’s face in a long time.”

You fluster, unable to believe you said that. “And did you?” You ask breathlessly. 

“Of course I fucking did.” He scoffs, “I practically laid on the floor of the limo so I could eat you out. You were bucking against my face like a goddamn bronco.” 

Your cheeks burn and you need to know more despite it being mortifying. “Then what?”

He smirks, amused with how flustered you look. “Then we came back here and had sex. In the bathtub, in the bed, in front of the windows.” He chuckles. “You liked that.”

There’s a flash in your mind of him pushing you up against the window, your cheek smashed against it as he rammed into you. “Oh God.” You choke, unable to believe that he fucked you like that. “No wonder I ache. God, thank God I’m on birth control.” You grip the towel tighter around your body, even though it’s ridiculous now he’s seen every inch of your body.

He hums, not mentioning how you had moaned about how good he felt. He’ll save that for himself. “You wanted it again, wanted to ride but you were so tired I stopped you.” You had pouted at him until he promised you could ride him in the morning. Although it seems like that won’t happen. “You can wear some of my clothes until you get your bags to the room.”

You want the floor to open and swallow you when he says that you wanted to ride him. It’s true you haven’t had sex for - who the fuck knows how long it has been. You can’t even remember. You had seen Dieter naked and now you can see why you wanted to ride his cock. Now you’re sober, you couldn’t do it because it’s Dieter Bravo. “Okay. I will wear some of your clothes then go get my things then I’m gonna go shopping and you are gonna stay here and call your manager to apologize.” You tell him, striding out of the bathroom and you walk into the closet to his suitcase, wrinkling your nose at the lack of options that don’t involve holes or stains. “You need new clothes too.” You tell him, holding up his tatty sweats.

Shrugging, he doesn’t understand why you are upset about his clothes. “So buy me some.” He offers. “Hate shopping. Never do it. All that was stuff I acquired.” Half the time it’s stuff that comes from lovers or once expensive clothes that he wears to death when he’s given them after modeling. “But don’t throw them away.” He huffs, a snatching shirt you had picked up away from you. “They’re comfortable.”

“Comfortable can look good too. These are - what the hell do you do in these clothes?” You pick up a tatty shirt and pull it over your head. “What’s your size? I’ll buy you some clothes. We can’t - I won’t be married to a homeless millionaire.” You scoff, “I promise you’ll be comfortable but you need to look good. Your entire image is your income.”

Dieter snorts and rolls his eyes. “I’m still getting worked, aren’t I?” He asks before he drops his towel and starts rooting around for a pair of boxers. “I need to look good on camera. And the makeup and hair people accomplish that.” He honestly doesn’t care about how he looks off set, comfort is his goal. He works long hours when he’s shooting a movie and it’s always uncomfortable. “I honestly don’t- oh! The last movie.” He rattles off sizes. “That’s what the tailor told me when I was fitted.”

“Okay. I’ll get you some new clothes. I just - I know you think I hate you but I want you to be successful. I want you to look good and be loved by your fans. I want you to have everything you’ve ever wanted and that’s my job. To make you look good. For people to love you. I’ll get you some new clothes and some new shoes. Those Tom’s…they aren’t it.”

“Hey….” Dieter pouts and looks down at the Tom’s he had pushed his feet into after sliding on his boxers. “I left my crocs at home.” He argues. “I could have worn them.” He would have too, he doesn’t care. Although he’s surprised by your speech about wanting things for him. Besides last night, you always seem to look at him like gum on the bottom of your shoe.

“God no. I will get my stuff and then we are going shopping. You’re coming with me so we can get you some new stuff.” You tell him, not taking no for an answer. “Let’s get my stuff and then we can go get started.” You shove your feet into your shoes, grateful you didn’t wear heels last night.

“I hate shopping.” He whines, huffing dramatically. “I hate it. It’s boring and people are always assholes.” He hates having to make small talk and all the fucking sales associates thought if they talked to him that he would buy more shit.

You roll your eyes, “tough shit. Your wife wants to go shopping.” You quip and make your way out of the closet to grab your purse, intent on going to your room to change. “Breakfast should be arriving soon. I’ll get my stuff, we can eat, and then we will go out.”

“Bossy.” The fact that his cock twitches doesn’t surprise him, he likes following orders sometimes. “Fine, we’ll go shopping.” He calls out as you walk out of the closet. “But I’m going to complain the whole time!”

****

You hold up the shirt against him, liking the purple against his skin tone. “I like this. What do you think?” You ask, knowing that people are watching you and taking photos but there’s nothing you can do.

“It’s fine.” Dieter huffs, hating the actual shopping more than the color or style of the shirt. He always feels like a rat in a glass cage when he goes shopping. “If you like it, get it. I’ll wear whatever.”

You huff back, hating his lack of enthusiasm and you know it’s because he hates being with you. “We will get it and then we can go, okay hon?” You promise, knowing he’s uncomfortable. “I won’t make you endure this anymore.” You take the shirt over to the cashier and you feel guilty when you see the total. “I’m sorry. Oh God. I didn’t know - I can put stuff back.” You tell him, picking up the clothes.

Dieter scoffs and takes the clothes out of your hand and sets them back down on the counter. “You want it, don’t you?” He asks, reaching into his pocket to pull out his little card case. The black card is quickly snatched up by the sales associate. “Besides, you told me you wanted to go shopping. Shopping means buying things.”

“Yeah but -” Your protest is cut short as the sales associate starts to fold the clothes. All of these are for Dieter. Yours are already on the way to the hotel. “I promise you I’ll pay you back.” You vow and he shakes his head. Dieter spends more than this a week on coke. 

“Anything to make you happy dear.” He sasses and you playfully slap him, a little too hard but you don’t want to look like you’re not flirtatious with the sales associate there. 

“Happy wife happy life.” You quip.

Dieter rolls his eyes and shoots the clerk a grin. “She’s already figured it out.” He tells them. “I just go along to get along.” He can almost say it with a straight face, but he looks over at you and shoots you a playful wink. “As long as you model the clothes you bought, or let me throw them on the floor, we’re good, baby.” He takes the opportunity to slide his hand down your back and squeeze your ass.

You want to be disgusted but you’ve had more flashes in your mind about how he fucked you and it’s beyond anything you could imagine. So sexy and intense. You find yourself being attracted to him and it’s so dangerous. You’re supposed to hate him, hate how he’s a PR nightmare, one that you’ve now gotten involved in, but you just want him to squeeze your ass again.

His grin gets wider when you don’t gasp and he leans in to kiss your cheek, making sure he drops another kiss right at the corner of your mouth. You’re a little looser than you were last night when the plane landed and he likes that. After your champagne at the strip club, he had ditched Cindy or whatever her fucking name was and it had been all about you. Not that what’s her name minded, she had latched onto some IG model that was there.

You can't stop the shiver that runs through your body and you hope he thinks it's from disgust. "Thank you." You tell the sales associate who promises to take your purchases back to your hotel room. You hold Dieter's hand as you walk back to your hotel. "Gotta let people take photos." You murmur, realizing how many people recognize him and you feel terrible that this is his life every day.

“I know.” He keeps his voice down, but he squeezes your hand. “That's why I hate shopping. The stores turn into a giant fucking fish bowl.” He’s feeling a little jittery, wishing you had let him take something before you left the hotel. But you had said you wanted people to see him happy and sober. Dieter didn’t mention that no one had seen him like that.

You notice how anxious he is and you feel awful for forcing him out like this. You can’t imagine being recognized like this. To be constantly under the public eye. You can understand why he finds solace in the drugs. “It’s okay. Don’t pay attention to them. You’re okay sweetheart. We are going back to the room.” You promise, feeling his hand shake in yours.

He grips your hand a little tighter and looks over at you, almost pathetically grateful that you are here. “Now you know why I’m normally baked.” He quips with a crooked grin.

You feel sorry for him, finally recognizing why he doesn’t dress nicer or go out or be sober. You can’t imagine the stress he must have even going out to the grocery store. You are swift to get him back into the hotel but you enter the elevator and what appears to be several young women all gasp when you enter. “Oh my God it’s Dieter Bravo.” One of them announces and you find yourself defensive when they start to take selfies without even asking. 

“Hey. Can you not just take his photo? You could at least ask.” You huff and one of the women points at you. 

“You’re his beard.” She declares. 

“His what?” You narrow your eyes. 

“He’s actually with a man but you are his cover up so female fans think he’s still an option. It’s okay honey, we all know you’re not his type anyway. He likes them looking like supermodels. You’re…average.” She drags her eyes down your body and you feel every insecurity you’ve tried to overcome rush back over you.

“Hey.” Dieter scowls and shakes his head, pushing the outstretched hands with phones away and reaches for you to tug you close to his side. “How about you not talk about my wife like that?” He demands. “Have I been with men? Yep, not a secret.” 

Dieter has never cared how he was perceived, he was too self absorbed for that, but he’d be damned if someone was going to insult his fake marriage. “And your logic makes zero fucking sense. I like men, but then I like women who look like supermodels, so she isn’t good enough?” He rolls his eyes and smirks. “Be jealous all you want but don’t be a bitch to her. And you can swing by the hotel room to hear how unattractive I find her later.”

You can’t deny that you are turned on by his display. His defense of you is sexy and you can’t stop the smirk appearing on your lips as the woman is shocked, blinking several times until her friends usher her off of the elevator when it arrives on their floor. “Thank you.” You tell him, “you didn’t have to do that.”

“Husbands protect their wives, right?“ he likes the way that your hand is on his chest, the admiration in your eyes appealing. It’s real, unlike a lot of the shit he gets. “Besides, they are fucking insane. You aren’t average, your fucking gorgeous.”

You fluster, caressing his chest before stepping away. You can’t get involved with him, this is a PR disaster to begin with, let alone getting actual emotions involved. He’s more than what you thought he was. “Thank you. You- you aren’t too bad yourself.” You tell him just as the elevator doors open and you walk to his suite.

He snorts, appreciating the sass and his eyes are glued to your ass as you walk. The maid has come while the two of you are gone and the suite is nice and tidy. “So, I guess we need to talk about what’s going to happen when we go back to L.A.” he doesn’t want to, but he also doesn’t want you lecturing him when the two of you had such a good moment.

You sigh, knowing he’s not gonna like your response. “We need to live together. Just until we divorce. The paps might catch me leaving my home or not being in your home. It will raise questions and we need people to think we are together and stop questioning…like that woman did. We need to - to make this work and when we divorce, you can tell everyone that I’m the evil woman that broke your heart so you can get all the attention and hopefully your next role.”

Dieter shakes his head. “No,” he frowns at the idea of what that would do to your career. “We’ll come up with something better than that.” He insists. “I- there’s three other bedrooms in the house.” He offers, looking over at the door to the bedroom of the suite. “You can have whatever room you want.” He sighs. “I’m a selfish asshole, but I’d never make you stay in the same room or sleep with me.”

You appreciate how he isn’t forcing you into more than what you have agreed. “It will only be for a few months. We need to suffer each other until people get bored of you being married. Tonight, we need to put on a show to convince the public we are married. I’m sorry this happened. I know you didn’t want to get married.” You sigh, having heard him say that several times when his manager would try to set him up on dates.

“Yeah, I know you don’t want to be married to me.” He reminds you with a rueful grin. “I’m not complaining though. I get to say I know what you look like when you cum.” Winking at you playfully. “So I’ve got that goin for me.” He’s thought about it all day today and he knows that it’s not going to happen, but it’s a nice thought.

You roll your eyes playfully and slap his chest. “That’s not gonna happen again. It was���a lapse in judgment. We can’t do that again. It will complicate things even more. That was…it was the drugs.” You lie despite knowing you’d love for Dieter to fuck you again.

“Yeah….the drugs.” Dieter frowns at the reminder and turns around to start striding to the bedroom. “I’m gonna go find my coke.” He calls over his shoulder. “You can do whatever you want. If my manger calls, tell her to fuck off, I’m on my honeymoon.

You chuckle, starting to unpack and hang up the clothes you’d bought him so he can pick out an outfit for later. Everything is stylish yet comfortable. You admire the dresses you’d bought for yourself, excited to wear something beautiful that you could never afford. Dieter lays on the bed, napping between snorting the coke, and he watches some movie while you get ready for your dinner. You take your time to do your hair and makeup, coming back out in a robe. “Bathroom is free. I’m gonna get changed.” You tell Dieter.

His hair is sticking up in every direction, not caring to style it after his shower this morning but he sits up when you walk past. Your makeup is sexy and your hair perfect. You look like an actress getting ready to perform her starring role. Right…this is just an act you are putting on so you can divorce him in six months. Dieter grunts and shuffles off the bed to trudge into the bathroom. If you want this to be a role, he can give you that. He’ll be your perfect co-star.

When you are ready, you walk back into the bedroom to find Dieter walking out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, water droplets still rolling down his skin, but his hair is styled and he has shaved. Fuck, he looks good. “You, uh, you look good like that.” You manage to choke out, hoping he likes your riskier outfit. You know that being with Dieter means you have to have a certain image. The man wouldn’t be married to someone who wears jeans and sneakers all day every day. So you hope he likes the skimpy dress you had bought for tonight.

His mouth drops open slightly, eyes fixed on the skin you are showing and his cock twitches. He loves it and he hates it, because he’s not going to be able to touch you. “You look amazing.” He compliments you breathlessly. “We need to see those cunts in the elevator again.” He chuckles. “Let them see I’m sporting a constant boner.”

“Thank you.” You giggle nervously, eyes dipping down to the slight tent under his towel and there’s a flash behind your eyes of you sucking his cock. Fuck, you can’t let him touch you again. You have to keep this professional. “Did you take viagra again?” You tease, sliding your feet into your heels to distract yourself from pulling him close and kissing him.

Scoffing, Dieter shakes his head. “Hell no.” He doesn’t add that there would be no point since he’s not getting laid on his birthday. “Natural reaction to you, sweetheart.” He turns and walks towards the closet. “Another reason I wear baggy clothes.”

You pause, watching him walk away, and you wonder if he’s just joking with you or if he’s being serious. Has he always found you attractive or does he even find you attractive now? After he is dressed, you swear your pussy drips because damn, he looks so sexy when he’s dressed up and tidy. “You look- you look good.” You choke, hoping your face doesn’t betray you, and you fumble to grab your purse so you can make your dinner reservation on time.

Dieter smirks and holds his arm out for you to take with a wink. “Can’t embarrass my wife when I take her out, can I?” He coos, knowing you hate being reminded that you married him. He can be charm itself when he wants to be and surprisingly, he only took a single Xanax while he was getting ready. The wedding band on his hand is foreign, but it somehow mixes with his other rings. “Ready to put on a show?”

With a sigh, you nod, wrapping your fingers around his arm and let him guide you out of the hotel room to the elevator. He seems…sober. You’re not used to seeing Dieter sober like this and you find you like him more. He’s not as brash or obnoxious. He’s charming and, surprisingly sweet. “I just want this to be successful so you don’t end up another failed Hollywood marriage. You don’t wanna beat Kim K and Britney on an annulment, do you?” You tease as you step onto the elevator and you lower your hand from his arm.

“First place is first place.” He jokes, looking up at the LED monitor that shows the floors rapidly descending. “Besides, I’m sure that whoever you are dating wants to kick my ass and have their girlfriend back.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, feeling twitching and he doesn’t want to touch you more than he needs to. He likes it too much. “Just blame everything on me. They’ll believe I did something stupid.”

You snort, “you think I’m-? First of all, no. I’m single. Have been for…longer than I care to admit. Second, I would never do what I did with you if I was with someone. I was drugged and - God, thank fuck I wasn’t with someone because we - it wasn’t exactly once that night.” You’ve had more flashes, able to piece most of your night together. The things he did to you…they should honestly be illegal, it felt far too good. “Legally, I’m yours. Reality, I’m no one’s.” You answer him, feeling a little insecure that you haven’t dated anyone for a while since you’ve been so busy with work.

“Yeah, I get it.” The doors open and Dieter takes a breath before plastering a happy look on his face. “The only reason you would ever look at me is because you were drugged.” He sighs under his breath, his low tone at odds with his expression. “Can you please stop reminding me how much you hate me. It’s my birthday.”

You take his hand, “I promise you I will make sure you have a good birthday. Come on, let’s go get dinner. I’m starving. Then we can go dancing.” You can’t wait to let loose a little and remember it instead of the crazy night you had before.

The photographers are everywhere, lights flashing and Dieter just smiles and acts proud that he is with you. Lifting up your joined hands and kissing the back of yours. “Dieter! What made you marry your PR agent?” 

Dieter laughs and gives you a smoldering smirk. “Well I’ve been in love with her for forever and finally managed to convince her that I was serious. She thought I was acting!”

He is acting but damn, the loving look in his eyes almost convinced you that he loves you. “And we decided to just go for it since I’ve been in love with him too.” You coo, kissing Dieter’s cheek and the cameras flash once more. You gasp when Dieter turns his head to press his lips to yours and you let him kiss you for a moment. “Sorry fellas. We are gonna be late for dinner. Thank you.” You declare, squeezing Dieter’s hand and he guides you through the crowd of paps.

Getting into the car is relatively easy and he allows you to slide into the car before him. The driver pulls away and he looks over at you with a smirk. “Looks like they believed you.” His lips burn where he had kissed you and he turns to look out the window so he doesn’t try to do it again. “They might fall in love with you.”

You snort, looking out of the window. “If you don’t like me, I doubt they will love me. I’m just a five minute wonder. When the Kardashians or the Hadid sisters do something, I’ll be old news and that’s when we can divorce under the radar. We just gotta make them think we are in love for the time being. I know that will be hard but you’re an Oscar winning actor so you should be able to manage it.” You wonder if you’ll be able to manage it. He’s more than what you thought he was, already changing your opinion after twenty four hours in his company. Maybe it’s a residue high from the drug. You don’t know.

Dieter sighs and doesn’t comment. It won’t do any good. You wouldn’t believe him if he told you that while he hadn’t been in love with you, he had found you very attractive and he liked the sass and the fact that you didn’t put up with his shit. He was contrary by nature and you were just so good. And last night….fuck, you showed him how wild you could be.

When you arrive at the restaurant, there’s another throng of paps and fans with their cameras but the restaurant staff usher you inside to a private booth and you exhale in relief when you lean back against the cool leather. “I don’t know how you handle that all the time.” You say to Dieter when he sits beside you.

“Drugs.” Dieter jokes, giving a small shrug as he reaches for the water glass. It’s not wine, but he will order a bottle quick enough and he’s oddly thirsty. “Some days it’s okay, especially when I meet someone who is passionate about movies, but it can be a lot when it’s the paps.”

“I can only imagine. It’s…intense. I’m sorry you have to deal with that. I sit at a desk and don’t really see that side of it. The reality of it. For so long, I’ve just done damage control on different situations you’ve gotten into like when you hit the pap and I never - I always thought you overreacted but now I know.”

He stares at you a moment, amazed that you had just said that. When he had hit the pap, you had raked his ass over the coals. “Thanks.” He ducks his head slightly to study the menu. “Hopefully they don’t bother you too badly.”

"I can handle them. They just need to be bored by me and they will move on. If we have an orgy in the middle of the strip, then we might be on their radar." You joke, browsing the menu. "Shit. This place is pricey. I didn't -" You are cut when Dieter rolls his eyes and tuts. 

"Hellooo?? My wife gets whatever she wants. Plus, I make way more money than I need. Probably why I buy so much coke." He murmurs to himself and you fluster at the way he easily calls you his wife even though no one is around to hear. 

The waiter comes over and Dieter orders the wine and you soon order your meal. "I don't - I haven't really been anywhere this nice before. My parents always preferred to cook homemade meals and special occasions were few and far between and my exes, none really took me anywhere super nice."

He snorts and rolls his eyes. “Wow, sounds like you dated some winners.” He doesn’t mind spending money, the people he hangs out with would verify that. But someone like you needs to be appreciated. “Well, while you are married to me, you can do whatever you want and eat everywhere you’ve wanted to try.” He lifts his brows. “A Hollywood wife must be seen after all.”

You chuckle, "I guess so." You watch the wine sommelier pour the wine for Dieter to taste and he nods, letting the man pour you a glass before filling Dieter's up. "To being fake married." You toast softly with a smirk on your lips as you clink your glass against his. "To being fake married." He responds and you take a sip of the wine, moaning in appreciation of the fruity full bodied red wine.

Your moan punches him in the gut, making it twist as he members the way you sounded last night. You still haven’t realized that he knew that the two of you got married. He wonders what you will say when you rationalize it out.

You eagerly dig into your appetizer. So hungry after so much stress. You see Dieter fidget and flex his fingers as he plays with his food. “Is everything okay?” You ask, reaching for his left hand. Another flash plays through your mind of when he slid the diamond ring onto your finger. You gasp and squeeze his hand. “Do you - if you remember last night us having - then you must remember us getting married?”

Shit…..Dieter stares down at his plate and swallows, suddenly not hungry. You are going to be pissed at him. “I do.” He admits, not looking up. He doesn’t want to see the anger on your face. Plus it hurts less when he gets slapped if he doesn’t see it coming.

You inhale sharply, now knowing that he married you and remembers it. He knew what he was doing. You feel betrayed. "Why?" You whisper, unable to muster anything else.

Dieter sighs and leans back in his chair, wishing that he had done some Coke before dinner. “It was your idea.” He reveals. “You climbed into my lap and told me that you had always wanted to slap me and then kiss me.” He huffs out a small chuckle. “So I told you to do it.” He picks up his wine glass and takes a long gulp. “It went from there, but you asked me to marry you.”

Your eyes widen. “I- I asked you- oh God.” You lean back in your seat, absorbing the news that you asked him to marry you. “Why - did I give a reason why? I need you to tell me everything.” You order, leaning closer to him.

 He gives a small shrug. “I thought you had just decided to take the stick out of your ass.” He defends himself. “Plus I wasn’t close to sober. But we made out in the club, damn near had sex in that booth. Then we went cruising down the strip and you saw the chapel and demanded we pull over.” He chuckles. “You claimed you loved those cliche movies about eloping and something about it could be a weird version of married at first sight?” He shrugs. “I didn’t know what you were talking about, but you were happy.”

You stare at him, tears stinging in your eyes and you swallow harshly. The tang of the wine on your lips when you lick them. “Wow. I- wow. It was me.” You can’t believe it was you that suggested getting married but you supposed it makes sense now. You sigh and reach for his hand. “I’m so sorry. It’s my fault we are in this fucked up mess and I - oh God. I’m so sorry sweetheart. I shouldn’t - my parents got divorced when I was a teenager so I guess I’ve always wanted to get married and do it right but now I’ve completely fucked that up.”

He reaches out and covers your hand with his other one. “It’s okay.” He knows how you feel now, in the light of day. He should have known you weren’t yourself, but he convinced himself that you had just given into bottled up feelings. It’s not true though, you are horrified at being married to him. So you’ll get it annulled or get a divorce or whatever. “We’ll have you single again in no time.” He chuckles and sends you a wink. “Smart girl, we got married without a prenup too.”

Your eyes widen, “oh God. I didn’t - I don’t want your money Dieter. You can keep it. I don’t - I don’t want you to think I did this because of - because of the money. I didn’t.” You promise, “I don’t - oh God. What a mess…and it’s all my fault. I’m so sorry.” You shake your head, knowing that your job is to protect his image and you’re the one who got you in this position.

He chuckles, enjoying the abject horror on your face. “Nah. I’ll just sign up for some really shitty movie, Cliff Beasts 75 or some shit, and tell the press at the junket that it’s so I could pay my alimony.” He teases, squeezing your hand so you don’t think he’s serious.

You roll your eyes at him, half playful, and you look down at your joined hands. For some reason, it feels far too right to hold his hand, even with the ghastly amount of rings he has on each hand. “So you wanted to marry me…even though I’ve done nothing but be rude to you?” You ask, frowning again.

“What can I say?” He gives a small shrug. “I’m a masochist.” His joke is meant to make you roll your eyes and scoff, perhaps say something sarcastic. Anything to keep you from delving into why he thought marrying you was a good idea. He was high, sure, but he never was so high that he married someone else before. His insecurities and loneliness came out last night and in typical Dieter fashion, he was selfish.

You stare at him, unsure of what to think, but you can see something in his eyes. You just can’t put your finger on it. “I- I’m sorry I’ve been such a bitch to you. I should’ve been more professional and I understand why you…self medicate. It must be so overwhelming.” You squeeze his hand just as the waiter comes over with your food.

He doesn’t respond with a pithy reply, instead he just leans back and lets the server set down the food. He speaks when the extra ears have left. “I get it, I’m annoying.” He gives a small shrug. “Byproduct of being lonely, I guess.”

You feel sorry for him which surprises you. You can’t imagine how lonely it must be to not know who your true friends are. To know that everyone wants something from you. “I- I really am sorry Dieter. I don’t think you’re as annoying now that I understand why. You’re just…eccentric.” You tell him and start to eat, wondering what you can do to make this man happy. How bizarre, to have gone from loathing him to…something else in less than twenty four hours.

“Don’t feel sorry for me.” He’s slightly prickly after exposing something so raw. “My life is great. Drugs, sex, whatever I want.” He huffs like it’s ridiculous to imagine being unhappy. “I live in Sherman Oaks.”

You snort, “money doesn’t buy happiness. It’s clear that you are lonely and you buy your friends and your lovers. It’s…I want more for you Dieter. You deserve to be truly happy. I know we have fucked up with this marriage but you deserve to be with someone who loves you.

Dieter sighs, knowing that will never happen. He either fucks up or they do. Or they never loved him at all. “Can we talk about something less depressing?” He whines before he changes the subject. “Like you showing me your tits at the strip club?”

Your eyes widen, “I did what?!?” Your mouth drops and you lower your knife and fork. 

“Yeah. You flashed your tits while we were in the club. Said you could get up on that stage and make me hard.” Dieter smirks at how mortified you are. 

“Oh my God. I didn’t.” You cringe, knowing you must’ve embarrassed yourself while high thanks to your constant need to suppress your wilder side.

“You did.” He chuckles and leans in. “But you were right, I did get hard.” He smirks and winks at you. “Got really hard. You liked it. Really liked it.” You had loved how hard he was and that he was a multiple rounds kind of guy.

You fluster, another flash in your mind of you taking his cock into your mouth in the limo, and your cheeks burn. “Oh shit. I did. God, I- I didn’t know - I’ve never behaved that way. I just - oh no. I’m so sorry.” You wince, not even wanting to know what he thought of you. “I, uh, I never behave that way. At least not outside of my kind.”

Dieter grins, eyes alight with dirty delight. “Yeah?” He gives a low chuckle. “You have a lot of dirty thoughts swimming around in that pretty little head if yours?” He nods. “Yeah, you do. You probably read all those smutty romances and watch porn thinking about what you would do if you just let yourself.”

You fluster, thinking of all of the books you’ve read and the porn you’ve watched. “A lot of dirty thoughts.” You murmur, looking into those beautiful dark eyes of his that are just one of the reasons he’s such a popular actor. You lick your lips and shift a little closer to him. “We shouldn’t - we should keep this professional.” Your eyes dip down to his lips and you remember how good it felt to kiss him. You want that again.

“Maybe.” Dieter gives a careless shrug, as if it’s of no consequence. “Although….we already have. And you are my wife.” He reminds you with a grin. “So technically speaking, fucking each other’s brains out would be keeping it professional.” He can tell you are curious. If it’s because you don’t remember a lot of last night or if you want to see what Dieter Bravo is like in bed, he doesn’t know. “You know what they say. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.”

You want to kiss him, fuck, you really do, but crossing that line isn’t something you can let go. You pull back, swallowing down the lump in your throat. “I- I don’t think it would, considering everyone takes our photo.” You gesture to the people across the room who are trying to covertly take your photo. You go back to your food, knowing it’s for the best. “We can go dancing after this, show off those infamous moves.” You nudge him playfully, trying to lighten the mood.

He wants to pout, but he knows that he’s not going to push. He never pushes, it goes against his code. “Okay.” He lown meal and forks up a bite. You don’t want to sleep with him again. Fitting for the woman who hadn’t even wanted to come here. He can see you retreat back into your professional armor and he sighs softly. “We’ll dance for like an hour, then I think I’m just going to go to bed early.” He decides. “There’s got to be another baggie in the room somewhere.”

You sigh, wishing he wouldn’t escape in drugs. Maybe some therapy would help him process better. You push that thought aside and know that you’re not his actual wife so that would be overstepping. The rest of dinner is spent in silence and you groan when you finish dessert. “I don’t think I’ve had a meal that good…ever.” You dread to think what the bill is going to say.

Groaning in agreement, Dieter doesn’t even look at the bill when it comes, pulling his wallet out of his jacket pocket and handing the card to the waiter as he reaches for his wine glass to drain the last sip. “Have you decided what club?”

“Not a strip club.” You snort and he pouts, making you playfully slap his arm. “Not a strip club. There’s this club at Venetian that’s supposed to be nice. Let’s go there and we can dance then go back to the room because these shoes aren’t gonna hold up an entire night.” You stretch your legs, accidentally brushing against his. “Thank you for dinner.” You tell him when the waiter sets the bill down.

“You’re welcome.” For all his douchebaggery, Dieter tips. He had spent too many years waiting tables to survive while he was working towards breaking into the business. He signs a large tip and scrawls his signature before he takes his card and closes the leather booklet. “Ready?” He asks, standing up and moving over to your chair.

You take his hand, happy to keep your hands joined as he guides you out of the restaurant and through the hotel to your awaiting limo. Dieter tells the driver the name of the club and he leans back in the leather seat as the driver makes his way across the strip. “Can I ask you a question?” You ask and he chuckles, “you just did.” You roll your eyes and look at him and he nods. “Why do you do the drugs? What about it makes you - makes you happy?”

That hadn’t been the question he was expecting. He frowns slightly and thinks about how to answer. “It’s freeing. Fun.” He gives a small shrug. “I like the way I think, the way I feel when I’m high. It can be creative.” He snorts. “Or it can make me not give a fuck about what’s going on.”

You nod in understanding, “I can get that. Just - just being you without any kind of mental barrier. I just - last night I was free. I have never acted like that before.” You admit, “but don’t you ever get tired of it? Don’t you ever want something real?”

Dieter scoffs. “Real checked out when my first multi million dollar role was announced.” He tells you. “Real left when I slept with someone only to have them sell pictures to The Sun.” He gives a shrug that’s meant to hide the hurt and betrayal that he had felt when he realized that he was just some kind of commodity to a lot of people. “Maybe one day, when I’m old and the roles stop coming in, or they aren’t blockbusters or Oscar winners.”

You feel sad for him, you can see the pain in his eyes. He feels used and not truly loved, he has been wrung out for every penny people can get out of him. “I’m sorry you’ve been treated like that. You deserve to be treated like any other human. Just because you’re famous doesn’t mean you don’t get to be treated with respect. I- I can understand now why you act that way you do. It’s an escape and a facade. If you don’t let them see the real you, you won’t get hurt.”

“Knew you were a smart cookie.” It’s not exactly a compliment, because it means he’s let you see beyond his facade. He looks out of the car window and chuckles to himself. “Want to flash the strip?” He asks, making a crude joke to lighten the mood.

You chuckle, rolling your eyes at him. “No I don’t. I’m not even drunk.” You tell him, “or drugged. God, I really did flash my tits everywhere. Thank God no one got a photo of it.” You cringe at the thought.

“Oh there are photos.” Dieter smirks, holding up his phone. “But only I get to see pics of my wifey like that.” He had every intention of deleting them, but hadn’t remembered to do it yet. “You wanna see?”

Your eyes widen, “you took photos? Oh my God. You asshole.” You slap his arm making him give a dramatic “ow” then you demand he shows you. He grins and unlocks his phone, pulling up the photos he had taken. “Oh God. I- I look - I look hot.” You settle on that word. You look happy and carefree and hot. Words you never thought you’d put together.

“Yeah you do.” You do look hot, doing exactly what you wanted and not apologizing for it. The picture where you were pushing your tits together and winking at him is his favorite. Inviting him to come suck on him. He had waited until the limo to do that. “But no one else got photos. Apparently there’s not supposed to be photos taken in the club.”

You stare at the photos, not even recognizing yourself. You look so happy. You don’t remember the last time you were that happy. Work took over and then your relationships were lackluster and you haven’t had much time for yourself. “That’s good. You, uh, can you send those to me? I really like them.” You admit quietly, loving that side of yourself that you’ve never seen.

He lifts his brow in surprise, not expecting you to want to keep any evidence of you letting loose. “Sure.” He nods and opens his messages to start sending you the photos. If you want them, you will have them. “I’ll delete them off my phone after I send them to you, but I don’t believe in that sharing photos shit. That’s disgusting.”

You have a new appreciation for him, knowing that he is many things but he isn’t a liar. “Thank you.” You kiss his cheek, wanting to thank him for being a good man. Your phone buzzes and you ignore it since the limo pulls up outside of the Venetian. “More paps but after that, it’s time to celebrate your birthday. First round is on me.” You promise, grabbing your purse as the driver opens the door.

Dieter follows you out of the limo, wrapping his arm around your waist and starting to weave through the paps. If he didn’t know better, he would think someone tipped them off. Smiling and grinning like he’s happy they are all witnessing his arrival, he tugs you closer. “Talk later! Gotta dance!”

You sigh, knowing you will need to investigate who tipped the paps off. You imagine it’s his assistant who arranged the reservations. “I’m sorry. I don’t - I’ll gotta find out who tipped them off.” You tell him as you take his hand, walking through the casino and you sigh in relief when you see the entrance to the club after several fans took photos of you and Dieter. “It’s exhausting. Having to be ‘on’ all the time.” You can’t imagine how he handles it. You enter the club, skipping the line, and are escorted to the VIP section.

Ordering a drink is quick, the server specifically assigned to your section for preferential treatment. “What do you want, sweetheart?” He asks, leaning in and speaking into your ear over the loud music. His arm is wrapped around your shoulders and the entire world would believe that you two are are enamored with each other.

You force yourself to not turn your head, your lips would be so close, and you know that kissing him, or touching him, would complicate things even more. He looks so good though, the lights flashing over his face, and you want to just protect him from the fucked up world he is in and keep him safe and...loved. Shit, you gotta push that thought out of your mind. You mumble that you want a vodka soda and Dieter orders a whole bottle. "Gonna be a good night." He promises, his lips against your ear and it makes you shiver.

The music plays as the two of you wait for your drinks. He’s aware that there are eyes on the two of you, taking advantage of it by stroking your arm and leaning close, nuzzling your cheek with his nose. “You look delicious in that dress.” He breathes into your ear. “Can’t wait to dance with you.”

You try to smother your whimper as your entire body lights up from his simple touch. Biting your lip, you turn your head to look at him and you swear he looks angelic with the lights flashing over his handsome face. He’s no angel though, he’s the devil in disguise. “Let’s dance.” You tell him, not bothered about the drinks.

Dieter smirks as you practically drag him out onto the dance floor. He doesn’t normally dance as much as wildly gyrate, but he can grind on someone. It helps that even though he’s behind you, you are leading the dance, something that is wildly sexy to him as he lets you take control.

You grab his hands, placing them on your hips as you grind back against him. You may be stiff and starchy most days to be professional but you love to dance. You don’t care who’s watching, deciding to finally let loose and you grind your ass against Dieter. Dipping low and pushing up against him as you grab his hands to help you stand upright. You put on a show that he clearly likes if his hardening cock pressing against your ass is anything to go by.

He groans, grinding against you and gripping your hips harshly. “God.” He hisses in your ear, loving how uninhibited you are being. “You are so dirty under that prissy veneer, aren’t you?” He teases. “You would do anything right now, wouldn’t you?”

​​You gasp when he bites down on your earlobe. “God yes. I would. I just - I haven’t had anyone to bring this side out of me.” His words send a thrill through you and you grind back even harder, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck, arching your back.

Chuckling against your ear, he slides his hand down your hip, fingers teasing the edge of your dress and tracing the hem. “Let me.” He demands, waiting to see if you push his hand away. When you don’t, his cock throbs against your ass as he dips his fingers under the dress and starts caressing the skin of your thighs as he works his way higher to the beat of the music. 

You don’t push his hand away, leaning back against him, and you whimper when his fingers press against your clit through your panties. “Fuck Dieter.” You moan into his neck when you turn your head. You know you shouldn’t be doing this, this is going to complicate things and you haven’t got the excuse that you’re drugged. You’ve had a couple of glasses of wine. You are practically sober and his hand is under your dress.

“You said that so many times last night.” He coos in your ear, rubbing your clit over your panties. “Fuck Dieter, harder.” He moans. “Fuck Dieter, your in my guts.” He slips a finger under the fabric and pushes it inside you, his thumb still outside your panties and pressed against your clit.

You don’t have the capacity to be embarrassed at what you had said to him last night. The flashes you had gotten told you that you loved what he had done to you. His thick digit inside of you has you gasping his name and his chuckle makes you gush, getting more aroused while you continue grinding on him. “God, what else did I say?” You ask with a raspy moan.

“That my cock was the best you ever had and you wanted to ride it.” He pumps his finger in and out of your tight, hot cunt - loving how you’re gripping it. It’s dirty, doing it right here on the dance floor and he loves it. “Whined when I told you to go to sleep. I think you would have slept with me inside you.”

His words cause a whine to rise up your throat, making you grab onto his hair as he works his digit in and out of you. "Oh God. That - that means you must've done a good job making me cum. Was I - was I good for you? Did you enjoy it?" You ask, knowing he's had more sex than you've had hot dinners so it's a valid question and you hope he doesn't lie to appease you.

“Fuck yes it was good.” He groans in your ear and slides another finger under the panties to push in with the other on the next twist of his wrist. “Fucking hot and tight. Like a perfect glove.” He twitches against your ass.

His second finger stretches you just right and you start to lean more against him as he works you towards an orgasm. "Oh fuck baby. You're gonna make me - it's so good. Dieter. I-" You turn your head to bite down on his neck. The music is loud but you don't need to alert people around you that Dieter just made you cum. His fingers work you through it and you slump back against him, feeling almost dizzy from the pleasure. "So good." You murmur, eyes closed as you breathe him in.

Dieter whines as he pulls his soaked fingers out of your cunt, holding them up so the shiny cum can catch the light in front of your eyes before he slides them into his mouth with a grin. You’re leaning against him and not moving to the music any more. “Time for that drink, right?” He murmurs in your ear, kissing the shell again.

You nod dumbly, feeling his cock hard and twitching against your ass as he guides you back to the VIP section. When you are under the stroud of exclusive cover, you reach for his pants. "Want to make you feel good too." All care of your PR job goes flying out the window as you scramble to pull his hard cock out of his pants. The section you're in is private and the curtains hide you from near everyone in the club. When his cock is finally free, you groan at the sight of it. It's beautiful, thick and veiny and you immediately lean down to take him into your mouth, not caring about anything other than making him cum.

“Shit.” Dieter hisses at the surprise move, throwing his head back as his hand comes to rest on the back of yours. He hadn’t expected this. Maybe some teasing, but he knows you aren’t drunk or have taken anything. This is you, taking him into your mouth and moaning around him like he’s a fucking lollipop you’ve craved. “Fuck, baby. You are so dirty, I love it.” His other hand slides around your side to squeeze your tit through your dress. “My wifey’s a little exhibitionist, sucking my cock in the club.”

This is so wrong. You shouldn’t be doing this but fuck, you can’t stop yourself. His moans and the way he touches you spurs you on and you bob on his cock, using your hand to work the length that you can’t take down your throat.

Letting out a needy whine, Dieter’s eyes close and he shuffles his hips up slightly. Wanting you to try to take him deeper. “Oh fuck baby, that mouth, oh fuck it’s so good.” He rambles, practically shuddering under the hot pressure of your palette against the head. “So good, you- fuck baby.” He forces his eyes open again to watch you suck his cock, amazed that this is happening and everyone is sober. 

You’re sober but you’re also drunk on Dieter. Taking him deeper until you are choking around his thick cock. You breathe through your nose, working him deeper until you aren’t gagging. Hollowing your cheeks, you press your tongue against the underside of his cock. Your eyes water but you force yourself to open them to meet his gaze, wanting to look at him.

Dieter is such a fucking needy little shit that the moment that you lock eyes with him, his entire body gives in. Gasping out your name, his cock starts to throb, face twisting pleasure while he is pumping ropes of salty cum into your mouth. 

You struggle to keep up, swallowing each spurt of cum, but a drop escapes to drip down your chin and lands on his pants. Working him through his orgasm, you pull off of his cock and kiss the tip, loving the way he twitches, then you lean down to lap up the drop that is threatening to stain his pants.

“Jesus Christ.” When you are sitting up, Dieter lunges forward to press his lips to yours. Sliding his tongue into your mouth, not caring about the taste of his own cum in your mouth, just needing to kiss you. Dragging you closer while he groans and deepens the kiss for a long minute before he pulls away and sighs as he nudges his nose against yours. “Shit…I wasn’t expecting a birthday blowjob.” He giggles, practically euphoric.  

“Neither was I.” You admit with a giggle, kissing his jaw. “I just - I can’t seem to stop touching you now. I want to give you birthday sex.” You murmur, wanting to recreate the night before and relive the flashes you get here and there. “Plus it will be good if people believe we are actually married, like not just on paper. Maybe a noise complaint will help our case.” You tease, caressing his chest through the open buttons of his shirt.

He smirks and nods eagerly. “I can make a noise complaint happen.” He jokes, before he leans in and kisses you again. “You want to have sex with me?” He asks, lifting his brows as he looks at you softly. He hadn’t expected this, this change of heart towards him, but he’s not turning down getting you into bed again. 

You nod eagerly. Ready for him to make you cum again. “Yes. Want you to fuck me until I scream your name. Until we get a noise complaint and everyone knows that dieter Bravo fucks his wife hard.”

He knows you don’t mean that beyond the fact that you accidentally married him. Fully aware that in a few months time, you are going to divorce him. But right now, the fact that he has a wife and that wife wants him to make a claim on her has him standing up. Shoving his cock back into his pants and zipping up, he grabs your hand. “We’re leaving.” He growls. 

Your cunt clenches at his growl and you let him practically drag you out of the VIP section after he slams some cash down on the table to cover the drinks you never had. When you are out of the club, he ignores anyone that talks to him as he practically drags you to the car, pushing you inside. As soon as the door closes, you are straddling his lap and pressing your lips to his.

He’s greedy right now, pushing your dress up to your hips and nearly ripping your top as he pulls your tits. Dragging his lips away from yours so he can kiss down your chest. He’s not hard yet, that will take at least until you get back to the hotel, but he can suck on your tits and see what you like while his body recovers enough to fuck you. 

When he takes your nipple into his mouth, you arch your back and cry out, tangling your fingers in this hair. “Oh fuck baby. That feels good.” You gasp when he bites down on the sensitive flesh.

Dieter loves tits. Big ones, small ones, he just loves them. He might have a bit of a lactation kink, but he’s never been with someone that had milk, but he always imagines it as he’s sucking on them. He flicks his tongue over the hard flesh and suckles eagerly, making it even stiffer before he scrapes his teeth over it to make you shudder. Pushing your tits together and licking between them happily before he buries his face in the cavity and groans happily. 

You moan, loving how fucking eager he is, and he switches rapidly between nipples, sucking each one and making you shift to grind down onto him, your panties soaked. You know this is a bad idea but you can’t stop yourself. He’s sexy, in a garbage driver kind of way - and you find yourself needing him more than you need air. “Oh fuck. Yes. Just like that.” You hiss when he nibbles the flesh.

He grunts, keeping his mouth busy. His hands sliding down and gripping your ass as you roll your hips. Reaching around with one hand to push your panties to the side so your clit can grind down against the seam of his pants. He doesn’t care if you soak them and ruin them, he wants to see you cum again. 

“Fuck.” You cry, grinding down until your clit rubs against the zipper of his pants, catching just right to make you shudder. His mouth continues to nip and suck on your tits and you swear you’ve never been this wet. You must have soaked his pants by now and you haven’t even cum yet. “Fuck Diet. You’re gonna - I’m gonna cum.” You warn him just before you fall over the edge, crying out as you shake above him.

Groaning into your tits, Dieter feels you fall apart. Your body tense and trembling gives him a rush of endorphins and his flaccid cock is starting to respond, hardening slowly as you grind against him. He holds you close and continues to lave affection on your tits until you slump against him, panting breathlessly. “I want to die like this.” Dieter’s comment is muffled from between your tits. “Just like this.”

You chuckle breathlessly, caressing his neck and running your fingers through his hair as you try to catch your breath, still feeling the haze of your orgasm washing over you. “If you die right now, I’ll get all your money.” You tease, knowing he knows that you don’t care about that stuff.

“Worth it.” He huffs against your damp skin. “Just bury me with a mold of your tits in my face.” He jokes, pulling away from you to kiss up your chest and chin before placing a surprisingly gentle kiss on your lips.

You sigh against his mouth, a little shocked by the tender kiss, and you respond, gently kissing him back. Your hands slide down to caress his chest and you nibble on his bottom lip, in no rush to pull away. This is dangerous, being this intimate and comfortable, but you know things will change when you get back to L.A and have to face reality.

The driver pulls to a stop outside the hotel and Dieter groans slightly, pulling your panties back into place and tugging your skirt down as he kisses you one last time. “Time to get out of the car and pretend we weren’t making out back here.” He smirks and looks down at his wet crotch. “Although that’s gonna be hard.”

You fluster, biting your lip as you try to compose yourself. These damn hotels make you walk through the casino to get to your room. You take Dieter's hand once he exits the limo and the cameras flash, making you lean into his side. "They definitely know what we were doing." You whisper, giggling when people stare at his crotch. "Helps confirm we are really married."

“I don’t think that we will have them convinced just yet.” Dieter winks at you before he hauls you close and kisses you again. It’s wet and dirty, the kind of kiss that leads to sex and he’s very happy when he hears you moan into his mouth, clinging to him.

You whimper into his mouth, nails digging into his shirt-clad shoulders as he slides his tongue against yours. Cameras flash and you pull back, knowing that you need to get him to the hotel room now before you fuck him here and in front of fans with cameras and the paps. "Need to - to get to the room." You manage to pant, grabbing his hand to practically drag him to the elevator.

Chuckling, he eagerly follows you into the car, somehow managing to be in there with only one other couple. “We’re gonna have to behave.” He warns you playfully, smacking your ass before he turns to the other couple. “Sorry, it’s our honeymoon and she’s irresistible.” He shares a smirk with the older man, and then grins back at you.

You slap his chest, shaking your head despite the grin on your face. Shit. He’s not too bad when he’s not playing up being an obnoxious Oscar winning movie star. The other couple - older - just chuckle. “I remember when she used to be like that for me.” He winks at his wife. 

“What do you mean used to be? Still am.” The wife smirks and the husband’s eyebrows raise. 

“Have a good night.” The husband says when the elevator arrives on their floor. 

“You too.” You respond and the wife smirks over her shoulder, “oh we will.”

“Damn, he’s gonna get lucky too.” Dieter huffs in amusement. The question of if you would still be that hot for him when you're their age is on the tip of his tongue, but then he remembers that he’ll be alone again by his next birthday. He pushes that out of his mind, grabbing you and flattening you against the wall of the car, his tongue desperate to chase away the thought and have as much of you as he can while you are still here.

You moan as his tongue slides against yours again. It’s like you can’t get enough of him. Never mind having a drug in your system last night, you’re certain that half of that was Dieter. Your entire body is on fire and you struggle to find any reason as to why you hated him. The bell dings and you slide out from the wall and your husband. 

“Does the birthday boy want some birthday sex? You want me to ride you like I promised?” You coo, smirking as you start to walk down the hall to his suite. When he starts to follow you, nodding his head eagerly, you grin and grab the key from your purse. “Better catch me then.” You rush down the hall, knowing it’s gonna be hard for him to run with his cock hard and throbbing already.

“Fuck.” Dieter groans, watching you take off and he starts to shuffle after you. “Wait up!” He whines, actually enjoying himself even though he wishes he was still crushed against you. It’s been a long time since sex was just playful and he is loving how easy it seems to be with you. You aren’t the uptight woman you pretend to be. “Fuck baby, watch that ass.” He huffs.

You giggle, trying to open the door, when he grabs you. You struggle to unlock the door with his hands everywhere and your hand shakes as you press the key against it, finally managing to open the door. “You’re just too slow, old man.” You tease, kicking off your shoes as you step into the suite and spin out of his arms to set your purse down.

“Fuck you I’m too old.” He huffs, slapping your ass harshly and then grabbing the hem of your dress to start dragging it up. “I’ll show you old.” He drags you back against him, grinding his cock against your ass. “Want you to ride me, I’ve been thinking about it all fucking day.” He admits with a grin, biting down on your shoulder.

You grind back against him, head lolling as he kisses up your neck, and you gather your senses enough to tell him to take his pants off. "Get undressed. Now." You order, desperate to sink down onto his cock. "Then sit back against the headboard."

“Yes ma’am.” Dieters draws out, happy to follow that order. Disrobing is careless, tossing clothes on the floor without any care until he is standing completely naked, save for his black socks. “Keep my feet warm.” He teases with a wink before he crawls up on the bed and leans back against the headboard. Wanting to see what you will say about the ridiculous look of just being in socks.

You chuckle at the sight of him in his socks, his cock resting on his lower stomach, and you push your panties down, kneeling on the bed and shuffling forward until you are hovering over his cock. “Like an old man keeping his socks on.” You tease, reaching between you to grip his cock and position him at your entrance. You slowly sink down onto him,  mouth falling open at how he stretches you.

“Does that make you the young gold digger?” He demands, leaning forward to kiss you and drag you to his chest. Wanting to feel your bare breasts against his skin while you get used to him. He knows you are probably sore from yesterday since you had told him it had been awhile since you’ve had sex. “Gonna fuck your old husband to death?”

You chuckle, “yeah. Especially since we have no prenup. You want me to - to fuck you to death?” You joke, moaning when you manage to rock your hips slowly until he’s fully inside of you. “Oh God. How don’t I remember how this feels?” You say to yourself.

“Blacked out from bliss.” Dieter huffs, reaching up and pinching your nipple. “Hearts gonna give out when you squeeze me with that tight pussy of yours.” He groans when you do just that, cock twitching inside you. “Fuck me baby.” He whines, wanting to feel you move.

You grab onto his shoulder for leverage, lifting yourself up until only the head of his cock is notched inside of you. You meet those entrancing dark brown eyes of his and sink down. Starting a little slow but building up the pace until you are rocking your hips on his cock.

“Fuck.” He pants out the word, loving how you feel around him, riding him. He caresses your hip and looks down to watch you take him. “Look at that. That pussy must be so full.”

"It is. Oh fuck. It is. I - never been this full." You admit shifting to lean back. Your hands braced on his knees as you grind forward, allowing him an even better view to see your pussy. "Fuck. This is just - so good."

Dieter is entranced, loving how your lips are stretching around him. It makes him throb and he reaches down and rubs your clit. Loving your gasp and the way your body shudders. “You look good on my cock.” He groans.

“Feels so good.” Your thighs start to shake and you nearly collapse backwards as you try to continue grinding down on his cock. It becomes too much, his fingers on your clit and the head of his cock hitting just right on every grind down, makes you fall apart. Your cry of pleasure echoes off of the walls and you slump forward as your thighs shake violently with your orgasm.

He whimpers at how tight you squeeze him, hissing through his teeth and letting go of your clit so he can start rolling you over. Needing to cum himself. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He groans out. “So perfect.” He starts to jackhammer his hips, carelessly chasing his own high while you thrash underneath him.

You cling to him, wrapping your legs around him to push him deeper as he thrusts hard and deep into you. “Cum for me baby. Cum for me.” You plead, wanting to feel him fill you up. “Please Dieter. Cum for me.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” It’s all Dieter can manage as he careens towards another orgasm. Looking down at you as he starts to cum. Hissing out in pleasure as the vein in his temple throbs and his entire body locks up as he buries his cock deep and starts to fill you up.

“So good. So good.” You choke as his cock throbs inside of you, painting your walls with his cum and you send a silent thanks to your birth control. “Baby. Oh baby.” You sigh, rubbing his back as he works himself through his orgasm.

When he’s done, he collapses against you, snuggling into your chest and tucking his head into your neck. Unwilling to let this moment end right now. Soon enough you will put that wall back up and try to keep him at a distance. “Fuck.” He slurs, feeling slightly drunk on pleasure. “Best birthday ever.”

You stroke his back, kissing his neck. “Happy birthday baby.” You murmur, closing your eyes and trying to ignore the way your heart flutters. He may be your husband on paper but after this weekend, this can’t happen again. You can’t afford for it to happen again. You need to be serious and focus on his image and the press. Work through this until you can quietly divorce.

He can feel when you start to pull away, shuffling under him. Dieter groans and starts to move off of you, pulling out of you gently and flopping onto his back with a sigh. Staring up at the ceiling and wishing that he could be granted a birthday wish.

“I, uh, need to pee and then we should get some sleep. We have an early flight back to L.A.” You tell him, shuffling off of the bed to make sure you don’t get his cum over the mattress. While you pee, you rub your eyes, uncaring of your mascara as you try to figure out what to do. You don’t know what to say to him after you just had sex sober bar a few drinks. You weren’t drugged. When you come back into the bedroom, you slide under the covers where Dieter already is. “Night. Happy birthday.” You lean over to kiss his cheek before you turn away, forcing yourself to close your eyes.

“Thanks.” Dieter stares at your back for nearly an hour, watching as you pretend to sleep and then your body relaxes as you finally do give way to sleep. Sighing, he looks back up at the ceiling again and wonders when the hell he had done the dumb thing and fallen in love with you. Rolling his eyes at himself and huffing into the dark. Admitting to himself that he had been enamored with you, and this experience had just made it crystal clear he would never have what he wanted.

The next morning, you and Dieter barely speak to each other, focusing on getting to the private jet and you’re thankful his entourage seems to have disappeared. “I- I know you don’t exactly enjoy being married to me but need to make this look good in public. I can’t - I can’t live with you Dieter. I’m sorry. I just can’t do it.” You don’t tell him why, not wanting to admit that while you hated the party person he is, you have seen a different side to him, a side that you know is the true Dieter. Not the façade he puts on, what he thinks people want from him. His true self is sweet and kind and deep. He’s smart and you wish he would let others see that side of him, not just the party animal.

Dieter’s brow furrows, a hurt expression in his face and he shakes his head. “I don’t want-“ he takes a breath and decides to be honest. “I don’t want to get divorced. I want this to- try it.” He moves from the seat that he was in to drop down onto his knees in front of your own plush leather seat. “Give me six months. Six months really being Mrs. Bravo. If you aren’t happy I’ll give you the divorce. But I- I want this.” He confesses. “I was happy when we got married. I’ve been happy with you.”

You swallow harshly, unable to believe he wants you to be actually married to him. “It’s been two days, Dieter.” You shake your head, knowing you’ll be a 5 minute wonder with him. 

“Please baby. Give me a chance.” He pleads, those pretty brown eyes going glossy and part of you wonders if this is all an act. Even if it isn’t an act, he will get bored of you and if you say no, he will badger you until you say yes. 

You nod, “fine. Six months.” You agree, knowing that he will be begging for a divorce within a couple of weeks when someone else catches his attention.

He lights up, grinning from ear to ear as he pushes up to kiss you. Cupping your cheeks and moaning happily against your lips. “Six months.” He promises. “It’ll be the best six months of your life.” Smirking, he waggles his brows playfully. “And the most orgasms.” He chuckles.

You snort, knowing that he is being true when he says that. He has made you cum more times than any ex lover during an entire relationship and he’s done it in two days. When the plane lands, the paps are swarming near the gate to the private airfield but thankfully, the car is waiting on the tarmac. The cameras flash and people shout as the driver carefully navigates the crowd as he exits the airfield. “God, I hope we are old news soon. Perhaps JLo and Ben will break up soon.” You chuckle, “or maybe Chris Evans gets married and they can focus on him.” You grab your phone, knowing you still need to do your job and you wince at the amount of emails. “You have a lot of interview requests.”

He smirks and nods towards the cameras, giving them a wave before he tucks you close into his side. The luggage is already being transferred and all the two of you need to do is to get to the car. “As long as you are there, book them all.” He shrugs carelessly and reaches over to pluck your phone out of your hand. 

“Dieter!” You huff, reaching for it, but he pulls it out of your reach. “I need that!” You stubbornly insist. He shakes his head and grins at you. 

“No, my wife needs to kiss me in front of the cameras.” He taunts, holding the phone up as hostage. “Gimme a kiss and you can have it back.”

You want to slap him but instead you kiss him, cupping his cheeks and sliding your tongue into his mouth as you kiss your husband. Hoping he gives you his phone back and satisfies the vultures. You hear shouting and you press yourself up against Dieter whose arms are now wrapped around you.

Dieter grins against your lips when you pull back, already half hard and winks at you before he pulls away, handing you the phone back. “That wasn’t so hard, was it, snookums?”

You poke his chest with your phone, "never call me that again if you want your balls, Bravo." You warn playfully and he grins. 

"Whatever you say Mrs. Bravo." His words make you pause and you look down at the ring on your finger, knowing you are going to have a hard time taking it off. It seems too easy, too comfortable with Dieter. Not even 72 hours ago, you hated the obnoxious, reckless movie star and now you, God you can't even fully admit it to yourself, may even love the sweet, smart man standing in front of you. 

"We, uh, need to go." You tell him when the cases are put in the back of the car.

Opening the car door with an exaggerated flourish, he blows as he waits for you to get in before him. Totally hamming it up for the cameras and generally being in a fantastic mood as he climbs in beside you. “You’re going to love the house.” He babbles. “Have to get rid of a few things, the toys that were used with others and whatnot, but it’s perfect.” He grins as he looks over at you. “Unless you want to see the toy collection first?” He asks with raised brows. “Pick out some that you want to keep? They’ve all been sanitized.”

You raise your eyebrows, "uh, how sanitized? You know...I think we can buy some new ones. Maybe pick them out together. That would be a good couples day for the paps. Bravo and wife seen shopping for sex toys." You tease, nudging his arm. "I need to move some things over, the main things I need for everyday, and I will need to get my passport and birth certificate to change my bank account for the time being. I won't legally change my name, just my status. Less complicated."

“Okay.” He pouts, but he won’t argue with you about that. He knows that this is a trial run and you could still decide to divorce him. “I need to order you a card anyway.” He pulls out his own phone to tap out a text message to his manager to get that done for him. “I’m assuming you’re keeping your place?”

You nod, “it’s an incredible rental. Great location. I have another six months left on the rent so I don’t want to let it go. I need somewhere to live. As for the card, I know we joke but I’m not a gold digger. I’ll use it for things for the house or for you but I won’t take advantage.”

He frowns, both at the idea of you going back and the comment about being a gold digger. “Sublet the place and you use the card for whatever you want.” He insists. “I don’t even look at the statements, they just get paid.”

You huff, knowing you can never win. You nod, knowing you won’t use the card unless you need to. You look out of the window and watch L.A pass by as you make your way to his home…your home for the next six months…or less. When you arrive at his home, you are impressed and automatically in love with it. “Your home is beautiful.” You haven’t been to his home before, always conducting meetings by zoom.

The thing that is surprising about where Dieter lives is that Sherman Oaks is a residential neighborhood. It’s not the party scene and he was careful not to let things get too crazy. But often his partying is done in hotels so the neighbors adore him. “We have a pool.” He announces, leering at you. “So you can lay by the pool naked and work on my publicity.” Waggling his brows, he imagines eating you out while you are on a phone call or typing up an email.

You imagine it for a moment, just enjoying your life in your new home until you remember it isn’t your new home, it’s your temporary home. “We will see, huh?” You offer him a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes and you know this entire experience can go two ways: 1) you fall for Dieter hook line and sinker, or 2) you hate him, truly hate him. With a sigh as the car comes to a stop, you thank the driver who opens the door for you and you adjust your purse on your shoulder as you admire the house.

He fidgets beside you, wondering what you think of the house. “I- you can change whatever you want.” He offers quickly. “We can hire a contractor or decorator or whatever.” He knows that most of the house is already decorated, but maybe it’s not to your taste. He gives a shrug. “I’m not sentimental about anything there.”

You shake your head, “it’s beautiful, Diet. Besides, it’s your home and I wouldn’t change anything since I’m going to be here for the next six months.” You say to yourself as much as you say it to him. With a sigh and no response, he guides you into the home, telling you to security codes as he unlocks everything, and he knows you will want to stay in a guest room. He picks the one closest to his bedroom and you admire how clean and pretty everything is. “This room is bigger than my entire apartment.” You joke, setting your purse down.

“I liked the space in this house.” He comments as he hovers in the doorway. The driver is depositing the bags in the entryway and he sighs. “Well, I guess I’ll let you get settled.” He offers, feeling oddly depressed now that you’re here and you don’t seem very enthusiastic about being here.

****

It’s been a few days that you’ve lived with Dieter. He had arranged for movers to collect your things from your apartment and you managed to sublet it for six months. It’s been strange, living with Dieter but not actually living with him. A lot of your work is done remotely so you’ve been hanging around the house, working on the PR disaster of your own making, plus dealing with the interview requests that come in hourly. 

Since you’re so stressed, you decide to take up Dieter’s idea of sitting out by the pool. He is in his art studio, manically painting something when you last looked in on him, and you strip off, wanting to feel the hot sun on your entire body. You hum in delight when you lay down on the lounger, spreading out to enjoy the heat and just relax.

Dieter is in his own private hell. You are here but he feels like he can’t touch you. There’s a wall between the two of you and despite the fact that he had promised you orgasms, you haven’t seemed open to sex. He’s snorted plenty of coke, groaning as his mind mellows out and feels his body relax into a blissful state. Looking out the large double doors to see that you are spread out bedside the pool, naked. Groaning, he grabs a bottle of wine and a glass abs ventures outside.

You hear him approach, his feet slapping on the concrete and you open one eye to look up at your husband. “Hello hubby.” You tease, “brought me some wine?” He nods and pours you a glass, handing it to you. “Thank you.” You sip it and moan in appreciation. “Are you going to get naked and sit in the sun too or are you gonna stand there all day blocking it?” You joke.

It’s an invitation, and Dieter isn’t turning it down. Reaching for the hem of his shirt to drag over his head before he pushes the baggy, paint stained sweats down. His cock isn’t hard, but it’s starting to get that way, seeing your tits on display. “I guess I’m joining you.”

The lounger is big enough for you both and you shuffle over to allow him to lay down. You sip your wine and hand the glass to him so he can take a sip. “How’s your painting coming along?” You ask, admiring him in the sun. God, he’s too sexy for your own good.

“It’s done.” He groans at the taste of the white that he had chosen. “It’s pretty good, I think, but you can see it if you want.” He hands the glass back over to you and nods towards your phone. “Getting my image back in pristine order?” He asks sarcastically, knowing he’s never had a great public image. He’s too much of a wild card.

You chuckle, "that's an impossible task. Those coke snorting photos are still on the internet." You tease, knowing he was younger then. "I am working on it though. Bit hard to paint you as a happily married man when you've been such a whore." You sip the wine, setting the glass down and shifting closer to him. You reach out to trace the tattoo on his chest, unable to stop yourself from touching him when he's so close.

“It’s not like people change.” He huffs, skin tingling when you touch him. “When you're single, who cares who you do?” He smirks over at you. “Not like you didn’t sleep with people, you just didn’t have everyone taking pictures of every one of them and keeping tabs like it was a lottery list of who I was going to fuck next.”

His words hit you and you realize how intense it has been for him to have his entire life under a microscope, constantly photographed. "I'm sorry you've had to deal with that. I have only dealt with it for a week and it has been intense. I can understand why you sought solace in drugs and sex." You look at him as you caress his chest, down to his tummy.

“I’m sorry.” Dieter murmurs softly, feeling bad that you’ve been put through this. “It’s one for the reasons that no one lasts.” He admits quietly. “They either can’t handle the pressure or all they wanted was the press.” He doesn’t mention that he was a shit partner. He was or maybe is (?) selfish. After all, you’re here when you don’t want to be.

You shake your head, looking at him, "you shouldn't be sorry. You are a successful actor. An Oscar winner. You have achieved greatness and you should be with a partner who appreciates that and understands that your life is under the public eye. That you are beloved by the masses. You need someone who can ground you and remind you of the simple things in life like cooking dinner or going for a walk on the beach. You are a good man Dieter, selfish sometimes, but you care too much and I think that's why you haven't found the right person for you."

He bites his lip to keep him from blurting out that he had, but she just hates him. At least doesn’t like him enough to stay married to him. Instead he plasters a shit eating grin. “I always like being ordered around.” He growls suggestively, meaning in the bedroom.

"Yeah?" You tease, sliding your hand lower until you are caressing his thigh, his half hard cock near your touch but you haven't touched him there since Vegas. "You want me to tell you what to do?" You murmur, shifting closer so you can kiss his neck, licking up to the tattoo he has behind his ear.

“Shiiiiiit.” He hisses softly, cock twitching. You touching him is like a drug if it’s own. Making his cock start to throb and grow as he hardens. “Yes.” He huffs out the whine, turning his head to beg him with his eyes. “Order me around.”

You grip his chin, keeping your eyes on him, and you lean closer. “I want you to let me ride your face. I want you to make me cum on your tongue.” You order, knowing he’s hard but you want him to have to wait. This moment is about you. You want to be in charge.

Whimpering, Dieter nods eagerly and pulls his chin out of your grip so that he can slide down the longer and lay flat. “Take a seat.” He groans, licking his lips in anticipation.

You shift, straddling his face, and you exhale shakily as you look down into those beautiful brown eyes, hungry as they flick between your face and your cunt. You lower your pussy to his face and he immediately grabs your hips, practically suffocating himself with your cunt as his tongue slides through your folds. "Fuck!" You yelp, moaning his name as you cling to the top of the lounger for balance.

He groans happily, tasting you and falling in love with the musky, tangy taste. His fingers dig into your hips and he drags you closer. He wants to suffocate himself in you, he would die a happy man right here with your weight on his tongue. Flicking his it against your clit, he groans into your folds when your thighs tighten around his head.

"Oh God baby. Feels so good." You pant, rocking your hips on his face, and you cry out when he sucks your clit between his lips. "Oh God yes." You cry, rocking your hips and using the lounger as leverage to ride his face.

He chuckles, loving that you are letting go. That woman that he had experienced in Vegas is here again, rocking her cunt on your face. Dieter slaps your ass and loves the way you squeal his name again, lurching forward and he slides his tongue deep into your walls, pressing his nose against your clit.

“Oh fuck.” You buck wildly, grinding down onto his mouth as his tongue probes deep, curling and his nose rubs your clit just right. “Shit baby. You’re gonna make me cum. Always - always know just what to do. You’re gonna make me cum and then - then I want you to fuck me. Want you to - to make me scream your name so loud, everyone in this goddamn neighborhood knows you are fuck- fucking me- oh fuck!” You squeal, thighs shaking as he hits just right, sending you over the edge.

You drench him, making him groan and rock you on his face more. Drinking down your juices as they pour into his mouth with a muffled moan of your name as you slowly grind down onto him. Happily coated in your cum and cock throbbing. 

You shake above him, riding your orgasm and you move quickly despite the lethargy the orgasm grants you to shift back and straddle his thighs, gripping his cock to sink down on his hard cock while your walls still flutter from your orgasm.

“Shit!” Dieter cries out your name, shocked by the sudden way you engulf his cock in your pussy. “Oh fuck.” He looks up at you, pussy drunk and still wearing your juices as you start to move. “Oh fuck me baby.” He groans, grabbing and squeezing your tits while you bounce on him.

You want control and you take it, grabbing his wrists and pushing them back to rest against the lounger, stopping him touching you. "You don't get to touch me unless I tell you too." You order, starting to move your hips, grinding down onto his cock. You lean forward, biting down on his chin. "Your cock is mine, I decide when you cum. You understand?"

Wailing his agreement, Dieter nods frantically. “Yours, all yours baby. Oh fuck, it’s all yours.” He babbles. “Have- haven’t jerked off since we - we got back.” He confesses, blushing hotly at the fact.

The fact he hasn't touched himself makes you wild. You start to fuck him, rolling and rocking your hips frantically like you can't get enough of him. "Oh fuck. That - this cock really is mine. Fuck Dieter. It's so good. No one has ever made me feel like this. Love it. Love it." You ramble, sweat beading on your brow as you ride him like a damn bronco.

His fingers wrap around the lounger slats desperate to obey your orders and not touch you. God, he wants to. Your tits are bouncing and he wants to suck on them. He wants to slap your ass and beg you to go faster, to use him to make yourself cum again. “Love- l-love it.” He agrees breathlessly.

Your nails dig into his wrists as you desperately seek your orgasm. “Oh fuck. I’m gonna cum.” You lean forward a little more so the coarse hair at the base of his cock rubs your clit and it sends you over the edge. Coming to an abrupt stop above him as your thighs shake, a wail escaping your lips as you cum, soaking his cock.

Keening at the hot rush of liquid covering him, he bucks up into you. Knowing that he is on the edge but your words linger in the back of his mind. “Can- can I cum?” He begs. “Please, oh fuck, please let me cum.”

You ride your orgasm, catching your breath as you look down to see the desperate look in his eyes. “Not. Yet.” You say through gritted teeth, starting to rock on him again. “I want to cum once more. Do not cum.” You order, wanting him desperate and whining and pleading.

Whimpering, Dieter clenches his eyes shut, knowing that he can’t look at you. If he watches you cum again, he won’t be able to hold back. “Fuck Bravo, think about stocks. Think about your bullshit dealer.” He hisses quietly, trying to keep from cumming before you let him as he shuffles his legs under you and tries not to cum. 

You giggle at his struggle until you moan when you find the right spot inside of you. “Oh fuck Dieter. Feel so good. So good.” You moan, cupping his cheeks after letting go of his wrists. “Keep your hands where they are. You can’t touch.” You remind him, biting down on his bottom lip to stop his ramblings. You are so close to another orgasm, your thighs burning while you grind down onto him.

“Fuck.” He hisses, pouting at you. “You’re so- so, fuck.” His back bows slightly when you clench down around him and he cries out in frustration. “Fuck baby, I-I-I need to cum!”

"No!" You gasp, on the precipice of your own orgasm and you want to deny him. He gets whatever he wants and you have a chance to control this, make him beg. You cup his cheeks before you slap him, making his cock throb inside of you, so close to busting his nut. "Beg. Fucking beg me." You demand, breathless with how close you are.

“Let me cum, please, please, please let me cum.” Dieter whines, his eyes popping open and pleading with you desperately. “Please baby, please I want- I need- oh fuck.” His body goes taunt and his hand grips the slat of the lounger so hard he breaks it, trying to keep himself from cumming.

His pleas send you over the edge and you whine his name as you cum, clamping down on his cock and soaking him again. "Cum for me. Cum for me." You order with a squeal, "fucking cum."

Shouting your name, Dieter follows your order immediately. Whining and whimpering while he experiences the most intense orgasm he’s ever had, not even cognizant of what is coming out of his mouth. “Fuck, I love you, I love you, I love you.”

You freeze on top of him, your entire body going cold as you look down at him. “What did you say?” You whisper. You lean back to look at him, his cock still twitching inside of you and he is blissed out, eyes rolling into his head. “What did you say?” You ask louder, heart pounding in your chest.

Sighing and relaxing, Dieter reaches down and caresses your sides. “Fuck baby.” He pants softly, eyes still closed with a smile on his face. “God I love you.” He slurs and sighs again. “That - was, Jesus, I must have cum a fucking gallon’s worth.”

You slap his chest, shifting to get off of his cock. "Oh my God. What have you done?" You choke, grabbing your towel to wrap it around yourself as you walk into the house, tears stinging in your eyes as you absorb his words, most likely said in the heat of the moment.

Dieter sits up, dumbfounded and staring after you. “What did I do?” He demands loudly, calling after you, but you are already gone. He flops back onto the lounger and huffs, confused and hurt that you hate him so much that you play hot and cold with him. It’s cruel.

After his lust fueled confession, you stay away from Dieter, and avoid him whenever you can. Going to coffee shops to work or going out for lunch by yourself. It's not good for his PR but you manage to go to less popular areas to avoid the paps and anyone taking photos of "Mrs. Bravo" alone. You feel guilty, essentially abandoning your husband but you imagine he has some new pussy or ass to fuck that has distracted him. You usually go to your room, avoiding him, and feeling guilty and angry at your own silly emotions.

Since you left him alone, he’s drank, a lot. Realizing that you don’t love him and it’s almost enough to sober him. Ironic, he fucked around and did whatever he wanted for so long, but now he’s wanting the one person he can’t have. His head is pounding and he wants something to eat that didn’t come from a bag, so he shuffles downstairs to see if there is anything in the fridge. Hating how he feels even more alone than he did before his birthday.

You are bringing in groceries when you find Dieter rifling through the pantry. "You hungry?" You ask, speaking to him for the first time in God knows how long. You can see the dark circles under his eyes and the stains on his clothes. He hasn't been taking care of himself. "I can cook us something. Sit down." You order, setting the grocery bags on the counter.

“‘M fine.” Dieter mumbles, ready to slink off to another part of the house again. To wallow in the misery that he’s created. He’s good at that. “Just gonna order something.”

"Sit down." You tut, knowing he hasn't eaten properly. He never does unless you arrange it. He gets too in his head, too in his art and you know he's been studying that new script. "Sit down and let me make you something." You reach into the fridge to get him a beer and set it down on the counter before you put the groceries away, figuring out a quick pasta meal to cook.

Grunting, he twists the top off the bottle and gulps down half of it before setting it back on the counter. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand he watches you move through the kitchen as if you own it. “What did I do?” He asks quietly, staring at the counter so he doesn’t have to look at you. He can tell the world to fuck off, but he’s terrified of you hating him.

You set the tomato sauce down and turn back towards him. “You- we agreed to do this for six months and then you go - you told me you loved me. I don’t know if that was in the moment but Dieter - I can’t - you don’t love me. You just - I’m the closest person to you right now so you think you do but you don’t love me.” You turn from him so he doesn’t see the pain in your eyes.

Dieter snorts and huffs out a laugh. “Wow. So you know me that well huh?” He spits, irritated that you keep looking down on him. Treating him like he’s the gum on the bottom of your shoe. “You told me you’d give me an honest chance for six months.” He reminds you. “Nice to know you're counting down the days.” The chair he had sat in scrapes back as he stands. “Wonder why I’m an asshole? I admit how I feel and I get ghosted by my wife. But you don’t really want to be my wife. You’re just biding time.” He tosses the rest of the beer in the trash. “I lost my appetite.” He tells you, turning to walk out of the kitchen, desperate to snort something to make him not give a shit.

You stare as he rushes out of the kitchen, tears stinging in your eyes and you turn to flick off the stove. You clench your jaw, suddenly angry at his dismissal. He always gets the last word. You set the spatula down and follow him, banging your hand on his bedroom door after he slammed it. “You’re such a coward. You told me when you had just cum. What was I supposed to think? That you actually meant it? It’s torture living here. Knowing that you don’t really love me, you’re just - you need attention whereas I am actually in fucking love with your selfish ass and yet I can’t escape because you let us get married while I was high. I just - I hate you. I love you! I love you too, you fucking prick. Is that what you want to hear? Because I do. I can’t stop thinking about you and I thought that if I avoided you I’d save us both the heartache when you move on to the next best thing and instead you decide to mop around and then you - God, I don’t know what to do. You’ve complicated this by making me fall for you.” You slump against the wall opposite the double doors to his bedroom suite.

Snatching the door open, Dieter growls, ready for a fight. “Then fucking leave!” He hiss, grabbing you by the arms and dragging you upright. His eyes are dark and passionate. “Leave if you’re so goddamn miserable, because I’m fucking miserable. I just want to-“ he doesn’t say another word, just crushes his lips to yours desperately. Breaking down and confessing his worst fear. “Don’t leave me.” He begs between sloppy kisses, hands pulling you closer. “Don’t. Fucking. Leave.”

You react immediately to his words, reaching for him to tangle your fingers in his hair and you press your lips to his again. “I don’t want to leave.” You admit against his mouth, sighing his name as you slide your tongue between his lips, finally feeling like you’re home.

He pulls you back and starts to steer you towards his bedroom. He needs to touch you, to taste you. Pushing you through the doors as he continues to keep kissing you. Pawing at your dress in a desperate attempt to get it off of you while he keeps his mouth locked to yours.

“Wait. Wait baby.” You push on his chest, groaning when his lips attach to your neck. “Baby. I - I am on my period.” You warn him, not wanting him to be surprised or grossed out when he fucks you. He might decide not to, if it’s not his thing.

Scoffing, he bites down on your pulse and pulls away. “So? It’s natural.” He tells you casually. “Doesn’t mean I’m not going to lick your pussy until you cum for me.”

You shiver at his words, realizing once again how different he is compared to your exes. That’s why you love him. “Oh God. You are insatiable.” You joke, letting him guide you back towards his massive bed. You haven’t been in here before.

He snickers and nips at your collar bone before he pushes you back onto the plush bed. Throwing off his shirt, he keeps the sweats on, knowing he will want to rush if he strips off too fast. “Yep.” He watches as you pull off your dress and he reaches for your panties, far more practical for your time of the month than sexy. “Period panties turn me on.” He jokes, winking at you. “Played a vampire once.”

You let him drag your panties down and he pushes your legs open, exposing your folds, and you fluster when Dieter finds the string of your tampon. “I- you can leave it in. You don’t - I know it’s not - God I have never done this before.” You fluster, covering your face, “can you leave it in?”

He thinks it’s adorable that you are so worked up over a tampon being inside you. “You’re so fucking cute.” He coos, wiggling his hips and settling between your spread thighs. “Don’t worry baby, it just tastes a little coppery.” He chuckles and peels your lips apart with his thumb. “Not even messy, besides-“ you pull your hands down from your face and look at him. “I eat my steaks rare.” He jokes before he flattens his tongue against your clit.

Your groan is a combination of embarrassment at his words and pleasure of his tongue flicking over your clit. With a whine, you buck your hips into his face and reach down to tangle your fingers in his hair. “Fuck.” You sigh in bliss, having missed this…missed him. “Always so good. You’re so good at that.” You moan when he sucks on your clit.

He wants to make this good for you. Needing you to feel loved and taken care of. Plus he doesn’t mind the way you taste at all. He hums against your flesh when you tug on his hair and grind shamelessly down on his face.

“God, that feels so good, baby. So good. I love it. I- oh shit.” Your head rolls into the pillow, so sensitive from your period, and it doesn’t take long to work you up to your orgasm. His name escapes his lips as you cum when he sucks on your clit.

He groans along with you while you ride out your bliss, watching you carefully and pulling away to kiss your inner thighs while your chest heaves. “Can I fuck you, baby?” He asks softly between kisses. He’s had enough lovers to know that every woman is different during their period. He’s a selfish asshole, but he’s not that big of a dick to expect or demand sex.

“I don’t - I’m sorry. I don’t really like sex during my period. It hurts too much. Can I- I want to jerk you off. Want to watch you cum.” You offer, reaching down to squeeze his cock through his thin sweats.

Dieter kisses your stomach and shuffles up to lay down beside you. “You don’t have to, sweetheart. I don’t expect it.” He promises. “I’m not going to be upset if you just want to lay here and rest.”

“I want to make you cum. Please.” You lean forward to kiss his neck, reaching for his sweats and when he doesn’t push your hand away, you reach in to wrap your fingers around his cock, pulling him free of his sweats. “Such a gorgeous cock and it’s all mine.” You murmur, kissing his jaw as you start to pump him in your hand.

Groaning, Dieter turns his head and chases your lips. “All yours.” He pants into your mouth, groaning again when you squeeze the head. “Fuck, all yours.” He’s needy, lifting his hips into your grip but he doesn’t care. Your touch feels so much better than his own and he wants to fall apart to it.

You love how eager he is for you, and you twist your wrist as you pump him, swiping your thumb over the head of his cock, and you slide your tongue into his mouth when he whines your name. “I love you, baby.” You murmur against his lips, pumping him a little faster before you squeeze the head again, swiping your thumb over it to gather more pre-cum.

Shuddering under your confession, he groans. “Fuck, gonna cum baby.” He warns you, cock throbbing in your hand and one twist of your wrist, he’s cumming. Painting his chest with hot ropes of his sticky seed while you milk him of every drop while he whines. “Love you.”

You work him through it, loving the wrecked look on his face as he enjoys his  orgasm. You kiss all over his face when he relaxes, “so beautiful.” You whisper before bringing your hand up to your mouth to lick his cum from your digits.

“I do love you.” Dieter promises softly. “It’s - I know you think that it’s just some kind of amusement or passing fancy. But I do.” He reaches over and cups your cheek. “I don’t regret marrying you in Vegas for a second.”

You smile, shifting to snuggle into his side, uncaring of his drying cum. “Me neither. I thought I did at first but I look back on it and it was just…comfortable. Like it was meant to be. I know we have a lot to discuss for our future and I know it’s gonna have bumps in the road but I don’t want to pretend to be Mrs. Bravo anymore, I want to be Mrs. Bravo. I want to be yours, your wife. I love you Dieter and I’m so sorry I’ve been such a bitch. It’s just - it’s been a lot to work through and I have needed time to figure out how I feel. I know what I feel and I know what I want…a life with you.”

Dieter beams happily, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. “Good.” He chuckles against your lips. “Because I want you to be Mrs. Bravo. For real. Us, together.” He waggles his brows. “Will you move into the bedroom with me?” He asks. “Let me snuggle you after sex at least once?”

You smile, nodding at him. “Yes. I’d like that baby. I’d like that a lot.” You sigh, breathing him in. 

“And I want babies.” He adds, making you choke. 

“One step at a time, my love. We have a lot to figure out but we will do it all together.” You promise and he smiles, nudging his nose against yours. 

“Together. I like the sound of that, Mrs. Bravo.” 

You giggle, giddy with happiness that he loves you. “Me too, Mr. Bravo.”

#pedro pascal #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo imagine #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo the bubble

[chiriwritesstuff]

The New Girl in Tinseltown - Chapter 2 - Devil's Advocate

A Dieter Bravo x Actress! Reader PR Marriage AU

Previous Chapter │ Series Masterlist │ Next Chapter

Chapter Rating: E (18+, MDNI)

Chapter Summary: A look into Dieter's point of view at the night of our fated trip to Vegas. How does America's favorite Bad Boy™ end up married to America's New Sweetheart™?

Chapter Warnings and Tags: (Not So) meet cute, PR Relationships, what happens in Vegas ends up in the headlines, Dieter just does not give a FUCK, Smut, SO MUCH SMUT, a look at the inner workings of Tinseltown and the sleaziness it comes with, Dry Humping, A hell of a lot of dirty banter, is that yearning?, mentions of devious deeds by sleazy people in show business, our loverboy makes a 'Pride and Prejudice reference, SLOW BURN WE DONT KNOW IT, this is unhinged, no use of y/n, No beta we die like men!

Word Count: 8K (whoops!)

A/N: I know, I know, I KNOW. I promised the release of this chapter weeks ago, but I got struck by the not-covid-but-felt-like-covid virus and managed to get myself into the biggest writing slump. I really do apologize for that, and I want to give a big thank you to everyone who stuck around and showed and shared love and support for the first chapter and this series! I can confidently say that the writing slump has finally passed, and we can finally get this crazy show on the road...

An (almost) year before that night in Vegas.

“Dieter, I'm expecting you to be on your best behavior tonight."

Dieter scowls at his publicist while his groomer diligently applies yet another round of pomade in an attempt to tame his unruly curls. "Define best behavior."

"They're about to launch a new girl into the circuit, some unknown that the studio thinks will become the next girl next door," his publicist responds, tapping away at his MacBook. "She's a genuinely sweet thing, all doe-eyed and untouched by the suits. Apparently, she's so sweet that Feldman-"

“Let me guess,” Dieter deadpans, "Feldman wants to fuck her," he rolls his eyes at that, slightly curious at the prospect of fresh blood. "Why am I not surprised?"

"That's not the best part," his publicist quips, his eyes locking with Dieter's over the rim of his laptop. "The studio wants to protect their asset, so much so that they hired-"

"No fucking way, they hired the Shark for this broad? What? Does she have beer-flavored nipples or something?" Dieter exclaims, his curiosity piqued. "Is she really that sweet?"

His publicist's mouth quirks into a small smirk. "The sweetest, most fucking forbidden fruit, my friend. So sweet that the Shark doesn't want you within ten feet of his client."

"Oh yeah?" Dieter replies, his eyes raised.

"Hell yeah. He tried to corner me earlier, warning me to keep my client's - and I quote - Dirty fucking paws off of his Doll-"

"Doll, huh? I bet I could tap that," Dieter challenges, his chest puffed out.

Dieter's publicist chuckles to himself, shaking his head. "Dieter, I know you believe you're God's gift to the masses, but trust me, this Doll? She's a bit out of your league."

Dieter leans back in his chair, a sly grin forming on his face. "Out of my league, huh? That just makes it more interesting. The thrill of the chase, my friend."

His publicist raises an eyebrow, skeptical. "Dieter, I've seen you chase plenty, but this Doll is different. She's not like the others. There's an innocence about her that even your charm might struggle to crack."

Dieter smirks, undeterred. "Well, we'll see about that. The forbidden fruit always tastes the sweetest, doesn't it?"

The publicist lets out a resigned sigh. "Just remember, Dieter, not every fruit is meant to be plucked."

"What is this event even for?" Dieter counters, appraising himself as his stylist smooths the fabric of his suit, a deep emerald green number with a crisp obsidian button-down. He pouts at the mirror, glancing at his publicist and his agent behind him. "It's not the Nickelodeon Kids Choice Awards again, is it?"

"Why? So you could be caught doing blow off a toilet bowl seat like last year? I'm still doing damage control for that, you know," his agent deadpans. "You're in luck; it's the MTV Movie Awards-"

"... and this is Doll's debut, huh? Is she up for an award or something?"

"Several, actually. Surprisingly, her last film gained quite the following-"

"... let me guess, it's some rom-com," Dieter interjects, a hint of disinterest in his tone. "What are the categories?"

"Three, to be exact." His agent smirks into his cognac. "Best Female Lead, Female Breakout Star, and Best Kiss-"

"Best Kiss? Seriously?" Dieter retorts incredulously, his eyes widening. "What's the name of her movie? I might need to see it for myself-"

"Dieter, level with me. Are you gonna keep your dirty fucking paws off of the Shark's asset?" his publicist sighs, giving him a stern look. "As much as I want to shove my foot up his fucking ass, I don't have the energy to have him breathing down my back the entire fucking night-" he looks off into Dieter's direction, who is currently on your Wikipedia page. He frowns. "Dieter, do you hear me?"

"What?" Dieter snaps, slamming his phone onto his seat.

"Can you manage to be on your best behavior tonight? Stay clear of-"

"No. I mean, sure, fine, whatever-" Dieter interrupts, his tone dismissive.

"Dieter-"

"I heard you! I promise to stay away from her, but the real question is, are you able to keep her away from me?" He smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

The (not-so meet cute) at the MTV Movie Awards.

"Dieter!" you shout, hastily making your way toward him, clearly a few drinks in. "Surprised to see you here!" you shout excitedly, a little wobble in your step as you approach him. 

You adorn a sleek silver gown, your hair elegantly swept to one side, and your radiant face contrasting vividly with the venue's intense lights. Dieter finds himself momentarily breathless as he gazes at you, captivated by your ethereal presence, akin to an angel descending into the depths of hell. "Fuck me," he murmurs under his breath as you draw near, the collar around his neck suddenly feeling constrictive as he nervously swallows. "What the hell? I never get nervous around women," he mutters to himself, his eyes tracing the entirety of your figure. His pants grow notably tighter, his attention fixated on the hypnotic sway of your hips.

He greets you with a nervous smile as you come face to face, tenderly planting a kiss on your cheek. His eyes close momentarily as he savors your delicate scent, a sensation that electrifies his chest and courses through his veins, prompting his hands to instinctively caress the back of your head as he subtly tries to capture another whiff. A subtle sense of pride swells within him as he notices the blush unexpectedly blooming across your skin, its warmth cascading down your cleavage.

Forbidden fucking fruit indeed. 

"Doll," he attempts to say smoothly, a hint of nervousness lacing his voice. "I've heard so much about you. Congrats on your wins tonight; they're truly well-deserved!"

"Really?" you suddenly squeal, and Dieter feels like he could get lost in your energy. It's pure, sweet, and so inherently innocent—the childlike wonder of being thrust into the limelight, untarnished by the sleazy underbelly of Hollywood. He can't help but internally frown, foreseeing the inevitable vultures in suits trying to get a piece of you. Their insatiable hunger for new, sweet flesh is something he knows all too well.

"Well, yeah, Doll, you killed it, as expected. Winning tonight and sweeping all your nominations was a given," he muses, casually leaning against his chair. As he leans towards you, a subconscious desire prompts him to take another whiff of your perfume, desperately trying to commit its essence to memory amid the haze of his coke-induced high. He can't resist burying his nose in your hair, eyes closing as he takes you in once more. 

"Dieter-" you question his sudden boldness, a nervous chuckle escaping you. 

"I'm sorry, baby-" he moans into your neck, his hands traveling down the length of your back. "You must tell me what the name of your perfume is, its divine-"

"Oh," you laugh as Dieter pulls you into him tighter, groaning as his hands travel dangerously close down your hips. "It's 'Missing Person' by-"

"Doll," a voice emerges from behind the two of you, accompanied by a stern clearing of someone's throat. Dieter's expression darkens as he recognizes the owner of the voice, but not before planting one final teasing kiss against your throat. With a smirk playing on his lips, he straightens up and turns to confront the perpetually annoyed yet annoyingly handsome face of the man Hollywood dubs 'The Shark'- also known as the most ruthless of publicists in all of Tinseltown, protecting his clients with an iron fist so strong no one ever thinks of crossing him.

Unless they wanted a cease and desist letter shoved so far up their assholes... without any fucking lube.   

Dieter gets it, though. If he were in his shoes and he had a client like you? All sweet and pure with the face of an angel but a body curated by the Devil himself?

Well, he would fuck your brains out and make you forget your name first, but that's beside the point. The point is, he gets it, he really fucking does.  

"Well well well," Dieter croons as he holds his hand up towards your publicist. "It's been a long time, Shark. Tell me, did you have to call ahead to make sure that some poor bloke's mangled testicles made it onto your plate for tonight, or did you rip someone's balls off fresh on-site?" he snarks with the raise of his eyebrow, shaking his head as your publicist stares at his outstretched hand in greeting. Dieter scoffs as he retreats his hand, placing it on his hip.  

"Bravo," Your publicist grits through clenched teeth as he tries to appear as unbothered as possible. "Aren't you a little old to be here tonight? The rumors aren't true, you know. Fucking girls close to half your age doesn't keep you young, but I suppose it makes sense, considering a woman your age would know better-"

"Shark, I won't tolerate you talking like that in the presence of an actual earth-bound angel. Just because she's young doesn't mean she doesn't know right from wrong-" Dieter retorts, flashing you a smoldering smile. "... you know how to handle yourself, don't you, Doll? You don't need some uptight prick telling you what you can and cannot do, right?" he winks, a slight puff to his chest.

You visibly shiver at his cheeky insinuation, nodding. "Right," you breathe, taking a hasty gulp of your champagne. "I'm 29 years old, I don't need you defending my 'honor' like I'm some virginal maiden-"

"Well, when my client has far too many drinks in her and doesn't understand the kind of man she's in the presence of-"

"The Devil, right?" Dieter exclaims, pointing to himself. "A no-good washed-up actor who fucks anything with two legs while high off my rocker, who just so happens to be good at what I do with the Oscar in my shitter to prove it? Don't you think she knows all of this? My bare ass isn't on the front page of TMZ weekly because I'm a nobody, baby."

"Oh my god, Dieter," you gush, clapping your hands together. "I loved you in-"

"Doll," your publicist interrupts, a firm hand on your shoulder. "You have that meeting with Favreau at the Beverley Hills in 30 minutes. As much as we would love to stay and chat... we have our jobs to get to, right Doll?" your publicist says to you sweetly, his hand grazing your arm. He clears his throat, nodding at Dieter. "Bravo, it was stimulating, as always," he deadpans with a hint of finality, pulling on your elbow like a lost puppy on a leash. Dieter swallows as he witnesses your light dimming from your face, a small frown on your face as you try to remain cordial, a fake smile etched on your face.  

"It was nice meeting you, Dieter," you almost whisper, pulling him into one last hug. "... maybe we'll just run into each other again soon?" You quickly whisper in his ear, and the thought of the two of you meeting up in secret thrills him to no end. His dick certainly twitches at the prospect. 

Dieter takes one last whiff of your scent, his eyes closing as he wills the time to stand still, not wanting to lose the warmth radiating from your aura. He presses one last kiss on your cheek, his fingers caressing the spot as he gives you a genuine smile.  

"... it wouldn't be soon enough, baby."

He gives The Shark one last salute, flipping him off once his back is toward him. “Fucking asshole cockblock,” he mutters to himself, patting his suit pocket for his little baggie of E. He pinches the baggie between his fingers, looking at its contents in silent contemplation.  I guess if I can't get the girl, at least I can get the high, right?

The morning after.

Dieter is face down on his sofa in his boxers and his robe, groaning from the after-effects of his debauchery just a few hours before. As if his skull is splitting into two, he winces as he turns himself onto his back, staring aimlessly into his ceiling as his iPhone suddenly starts to go off from under him.

Sighing, he blindly reaches for his phone, one eye open as he squints into the tiny, shattered screen.

TMZ NEWS FLASH! Up-and-coming Actress who swept MTV awards show last night being groped by Resident Playboy Dieter Bravo? Her publicist sweeps in to save our New "It" Girl in Tinseltown from the grasp of the Devil himself-

Dieter scoffs as he swipes the notification away, his eyes scanning the next headline.

AP NEWS ALERT: Dieter Bravo seen kissing Rising Actress at MTV Movie Awards last night, is a new romance brewing between the Fresh-Faced Actress and Playboy Lothario Dieter Bravo?

"Dieter," his publicist groans as he walks into the room, picking up a crumpled pair of boxer briefs off the sofa, and throws himself on it, pinching the space between his eyebrows as he shakes his head. "What the hell did I tell you? Stay away from The Shark's client, don't grope her in front of him! Can't you just listen to me for once?"

"It was innocent! I kept my hands at a respectable distance from her ass," Dieter retorts, throwing his phone across the room. "I didn't even make a move—"

"That's not the point, Dieter!" his publicist spits back, pulling out his phone. "Do you realize how much this guy despises you? I'm good at my job, but The Shark? I can't go against a god—"

"You're making him out to be some untouchable—"

"...because he is untouchable, Dieter! Do you even know he's buddies with Feldman? After learning about your stunt last night, he's considering pulling you from the project."

"Please," Dieter scoffs, rolling his eyes. "They need me more than I need them! I'm practically doing them a favor, signing on to this fucking movie. They're not going to pull Dieter Bravo from a sinking ship! It's just scare tactics!"

"Yeah, well, you know what they say. The pussy is stronger than god, right?" his publicist replies, scrolling through his phone. "Feldman didn't appreciate your hands on his girl, and now he's out for blood. I warned you about this, D. Is some girl worth losing a multi-million dollar contract? Do you want to go back to doing 'surprise guest star' roles on cable TV? I heard they're thinking of rebooting 'Suits', it might be a good fit for you-"

"So what do I need to do then?" Dieter fires back, a joint between his lips. "I assume I'll be needing to make a public statement or some shit? Keep the old bastard happy?"

"It's funny you mention that D. I have an email from The Shark himself, with a list of what he wants you to say in your statement, promising he'll back the fuck off if you promise to not go within ten feet of his asset-"

"Have you ever heard of 'Missing People' perfume?" Dieter suddenly asks, taking a hit off his joint, his eyes following the thick plume of smoke as he leans back into the sofa. "Missing... Woman?" he mumbles to himself absentmindedly, licking his lips. "Fuck, what did she say it was? I need to stop going to these things blitzed out of my fucking mind-"

"Dieter, focus. Are we releasing the statement or not?"

"MARCUS!" Dieter calls out for his PA suddenly, ignoring his publicist as he grabs the phone out of his hands. "MARCUS! I NEED YOU!"

"Yes D?" Marcus responds as he rushes into the living room, pulling a fresh pack of Kitkat out of his back pocket. "Did you need a snack?"

"Have you ever heard of 'Missing Someone' perfume?" he asks once more as he pulls up the Safari app on his publicist's phone.  

"You mean 'Missing Person' by Phlur?" Marcus quips, picking up the stray pieces of discarded clothing strewn randomly around the room. “One of my favorite actresses just became the spokesperson for that perfume, swears by it-“ 

“Missing PERSON, that’s what it was!” Dieter shouts, tossing his publicist's phone back at him. “Marcus, you’re a fucking godsend! I knew there was a reason why I kept you around! Could you do me a small favor?”

"What do you need, D?" Marcus asks eagerly, his hand perched on his hip. 

"I need you to buy me 'Missing People'. A couple of bottles, at least."

"How many is a couple?" Marcus asks with a nervous chuckle. "Five? Are you giving these out as gifts or something?"

"Maybe I could call Chriselle, and tell her you're interested in the company, there are more scents suitable for men, D," his publicist says casually, pulling out his laptop from his messenger bag. "I ran into her at Erewhon the other day, she's a big fan of your work, and couldn't stop talking about Cliff Beasts... Now, about that statement-"

"Fuck asking, just go to Neimans or Sephora or something and buy out their entire stock. Lotions and body wash and candles if it comes in that scent, too, Marcus. Go to all of the fucking Sephoras if you need to."

"... the entire stock? D, what is this for?"

"Do I pay you to ask all of these fucking questions? Don't worry about what I'm going to do with it. Just get it in my hands by the end of the day, do you think you could swing that?"

"... yes?"

Dieter takes another drag out of his joint, nodding aimlessly. "Great. Also, stop by Blicks on your way back. I need an entire arsenal and the biggest canvas they have. New brushes, too! Set up my studio and put the 'Missing People' in my bathroom, and I'll want my usual In n Out order, too."

Flustered, Marcus pulls out his phone and starts typing Dieter's requests on his notes app. Running a nervous hand through his hair, he looks at his boss once more. "Anything else?"

"Yeah. Get the fuck out of my face and get to work, Marcus. Chop Chop!"

His assistant nods and scrambles out of the living room, tripping on the corner of the area rug on his way out. Dieter's publicist raises his eyebrow at the display, shaking his head as he types away on his laptop. "You know, you could be nicer to him, D. He tries hard to cater to your every fucking whim and fancy... now, are we gonna release that fucking statement or not?"

"What statement?" Dieter asks absentmindedly as he pulls out a small baggie from his robe pocket.  

"The one where you say that you had a little too much to drink and that you didn't mean anything by groping Doll at the Movie Awards, and that you're really sorry and will be donating a couple thousand to a women's shelter-"

"... and this will make The Shark happy? and Feldman off my ass?" he replies, rubbing his gums as he smiles to himself. "I'll be able to stay on the project?"

"You can start packing your bags, yes. Filming starts in a week for the next few months in Europe. It'll give this whole Movie Awards nonsense some time to blow over."

Dieter considers this for a moment. He sticks his tongue out in contemplation, coming to the unsettling realization that he hasn't been in a major studio project in the last few years. He needs this job more than they need him, and deep down, he knows this. He takes one last drag out of his joint, flicking the roach away as he turns towards his publicist.

"Release the fucking statement."

His publicist nods, fingers flying across the keyboard. "Good," he murmurs, genuine relief softening his features. "I can't handle you out of work for another month, not after the fucking pandemic... What's the deal with all that perfume, anyway?"

"What?" Dieter replies absentmindedly, scratching his beard.

"The stuff you made Marcus buy in bulk," his publicist clarifies.

"Forget the perfume. Do you still have those photos I sent you?"

"I've got them, but I haven't checked them out yet. Why?"

Dieter gestures toward the laptop. "Why don't you take a look?"

His publicist eyes him warily, opening the email. His expression shifts to shock as he glimpses the contents. "Is this—"

Dieter nods, a smirk creeping onto his face. "Yep."

"This is huge, Dieter. How did you even get these? They're screwed if this ever goes public—"

"That's why it's payback time. A little warning shot," Dieter interrupts, leaning forward eagerly. "We leak the photos. Anonymously, of course."

"Dieter," his publicist warns, "If they trace it back to you—"

"I'll take the risk. They messed with the wrong guy," Dieter scoffs, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. "These amateurs think they can get away with it?" he mutters to himself, then clears his throat. "Remember our motto?"

"Nobody fucks with Dieter Bravo."

Dieter leans back on the sofa, nodding. "That's right. Nobody fucks with Dieter Bravo."

Six Months later.

"Hi, I'm Carol Cobb!"

"... and I'm Dieter Bravo!"

"And we are doing a Wired Autocomplete Interview!"

"Alright! Is Dieter Bravo..." Carol energetically rips the first sheet of paper off her card, a playful smile spreading across her face as Dieter looks attentively at the camera. "Is Dieter Bravo dead?!" She bursts into laughter, smacking Dieter with the card, who simply shrugs. "Wow! Why would they hit us with that right out of the gate?"

"Not dead yet!" Dieter exclaims, pushing his signature glasses off his face while gazing into the camera. "Got close... several times," he adds with a pointed smirk.

"...and we are very much thankful for that!" Carol shouts. "Shall we move on to the next one?" She tears the next slip of paper, her eyes widening as she reads, “Is Dieter Bravo secretly married?!”

“Well, it wouldn’t be a secret if I spilled the beans now, would it?” Dieter smiles conspiratorially, rubbing his chin in contemplation.

“I can't imagine you ever settling down,” Carol muses with a smirk. "It seems unnatural, like going against the natural order of things, like sea animals on land. Dieter Bravo, settled down with one girl? Hell would have to freeze over before that ever happens," she teases.

"I think it could happen," Dieter says matter-of-factly, crossing his arms over his chest as he settles back into his seat.

"What could happen?" Carol asks, her curiosity piqued.

"Settling down. Getting married, perhaps... even starting a family," Dieter replies thoughtfully.

"It would take quite the woman to make 'The Great Lothario' change his ways. Seems like an impossible feat," Carol interrupts, chuckling. "A woman who can stop the great Dieter Bravo from his manwhoring ways? Maybe someone who lives under a rock and doesn't know about your reputation."

"Actually," Dieter interjects, a hint of excitement in his voice. "I think I've met someone recently who's made quite an impression on me."

Carol's eyes widen in surprise. "What do you mean, you think you've met someone? Who is this mysterious girl that's captured your attention, D?"

"Well, she's an actress-"

"Of course," Carol quips with a knowing smirk.

"... she's new. I had the pleasure of meeting her at the MTV Movie-"

"You're not talking about Doll, are you? The woman you groped after meeting her for the first time? Someone even said that they caught you sniffing her! Who does that, Dieter?!"

"I am a connoisseur of all things exquisite and beautiful, ma chérie. She smelled absolutely divine, and I swear her scent lingered on me for days after, I swear, just let me nuzzle my face in between the valley of those luscious tits-"

"God, D. I think they're gonna have to edit this shit out!" Carol mutters, looking embarrassed by Dieter's boldness. She leans towards Dieter. "I thought you signed some embargo with The Shark promising you wouldn't mention her," she whispers in his ears. "Even I wouldn't think to fuck with him-"

"Well, Feldman was my main concern, and now he's facing jail time for all of those underage claims and those leaked photos, so fuck it!" Dieter counters, knowing damn well he worked behind the scenes for it to happen, leaking a few photos he had stored away on his iCloud, kissing himself on the mouth knowing it would come in handy sooner or later.  

AP NEWS ALERT: Hollywood bigshot arrested for leaked inappropriate images from an anonymous source of various actresses, denies all allegations of misconduct.

One asshole down, one Shark to bury next, he thinks to himself, chuckling at the thought. "Besides, I can't get her out of my fucking mind! I've never felt this way about a woman before, Carol, I mean it this time!"

"I mean, she's undeniably beautiful," Carol agrees, "but she's still new to the industry. They've been typecasting her in those romcoms with whatshisname, but I've heard she's pushing for more challenging roles—"

"Cut!" The director's voice slices through the air, his eyes narrowed at them both. "This interview is about promoting Cliff Beasts, not discussing Dieter's love life with some woman."

"Hey, that 'woman'? She's my future wife, so watch your damn mouth," Dieter snaps back, his tone defensive.

"Whoa, D, hold on. Future wife? You barely know her!" Carol interjects, her hand pressed against her chest in disbelief. "Take it easy, baby. Get to know her first, at least."

"It's gonna happen, Carol. I can feel it in my damn bones. I was drawn to her the moment I laid eyes on her," Dieter insists, his confidence unwavering.

"Listen, Casanova, I don't care who you think you're gonna marry, but we're on a tight schedule here!" the director interrupts, frustration evident in his voice. "Stick to the damn questions, and no more talk about your little 'girlfriend.'"

"Fine," Dieter mutters, rolling his eyes and taking a sip of water. "But do me a favor—don't cut out the part about her assets. It'll bring in views like crazy. I did you a favor there."

The director waves him off as he storms away. "Remind me why I took this job knowing this idiot would be here," he mutters to himself, heading back behind the camera.

The day of the (not so thought out) wedding.

Dieter is anxiously bouncing his leg, biting his pinky nail as his groomer meticulously applies another layer of concealer under his darkened eyes. "Jeez D, have you been sleeping at all lately?"

"What?" Dieter asks absentmindedly, running a shaky hand through his curls. "Yeah- I've been sleeping, why?"

“Your under-eyes, D. They’re darker than my fucking soul, man. Didn’t I tell you to lay off on the sauce? I’m on my fourth layer of concealer-“

“It’s nothing,” Dieter says dismissively. “Just… have you ever been in love?” 

"Sure I have," his groomer replies, a small smile on their face. "That's why I'm married, silly. Why?"

"Say you like a girl, and you think that this girl might be interested but then TMZ posts leaked photos of said girl and some beefed up Hollywood hunk "canoodling" with each other while filming their movie together in Canada-"

"This is Doll that we're talking about, correct? The one you groped at the MTV Movie-"

"I DIDN'T GROPE HER!" Dieter exclaims, groaning as he sinks further into his seat. "Why does everyone keep saying that? I was simply giving her a friendly, yet casual hug when she APPROACHED ME-"  He huffs like a petulant child, his arms crossed around his chest in defiance. "Anyway, I thought, after I desperately tried to shoot my shot, let my intentions known in that 'Wired' Interview with Carol, that she would contact me, you know? Maybe slide into my DMs-" 

“Slide into your DMs?” His groomer scoffs, plucking a stray eyebrow hair with their tweezers from his face as he dramatically flinches, narrowing his eyes at them. “You flat out said you wanted to smother your face in the ‘valley of her luscious tits’, I would be surprised if she hasn't filed a restraining order against you yet... Let me give you a bit of advice: Girls want to be romanced, not objectified! ... have you ever had a 'real' girlfriend before, D?"

"Hey! I've had girlfriends, alright?" Dieter groans, frustration evident in his voice as he clenches his fists. "Just because they didn't stick around afterward doesn't mean it was all my fault, okay?"

"The girls you hook up with during your benders and then discard once the high wears off don't exactly qualify as 'real' girlfriends, D! Let's be serious here!"

"That's what I'm trying to be," he whines, "I'm trying SO HARD to be serious for once! I can't get this girl out of my head, and it's been what? Almost a year since I've met her? I can't get my dick hard when I'm with anyone else anymore, I don't want to take drugs, it's like I'm fucking broken or something! ... and now she's off fucking Joe Hollywood over here like I'm not bleeding my fucking heart out for her-"

"Wait, you mean to tell me that you're actually sober right now?"

"Well, yeah. The last time I took something was before filming Cliff Beasts, I thought you knew that. Anyway, it doesn't fucking matter. All of that and she doesn't even notice me."

"Well, I would tell you that if you had bothered to read TMZ this morning instead of sulking, you would know that there are split rumors between this girl and Hollywood neanderthal," His groomer retorts, a shit-eating grin on their face. "It was over before it even began. I mean, I've heard for such a massive man, he has quite the tiny di-"

Dieter perks up at that. "Say that again."

"They've broken up. She's back on the market, silly goose."

"So that means-"

"That means that I'm going to groom the shit out of you and help you out by making her realize just what she's missing out on, D." His groomer replies, massaging his scalp as they make eye contact through the mirror in front of them. "You're lucky that I consider myself a hopeless romantic. If you promise not to break her heart, I'll help you get the girl, ok?"

"Shit, do you think she'll like me?" Dieter says nervously, fidgeting in his seat.  

"Obviously," his groomer replies cryptically, a smirk forming on the corner of their mouth. "I may or may not have some intel from another groomer friend of mine about their supposed breakup."

"Oh?" Dieter perks up, his eyebrow raised in curiosity. "... and what would that intel be?"

"Oh, you know. Someone might have asked their stylist if they think you'll be attending tonight, how she kept trying to be sly about it."

"Doll asked about me?! Are you serious?" Dieter's excitement is palpable.

"Well, according to my friend, the reason why they broke up was that someone might have moaned your name while being eaten out by 'Joe Hollywood' the other day-"

"No fucking way!"

"She's into you, D! I would say that your little ploy during the 'Wired' interview worked more than you think, bud."

Dieter nods, taking the biggest sigh of relief as he settles in his chair. "One last thing, do you groom just the top half of me, or are you open to grooming other places?"

"What do you mean?" his groomer cocks their head to the side.  

"Shit, well... are you open to grooming my nether regions? It's been a while since I've been with a woman, I'm almost full caveman down there-"

His groomer tsks, pulling out their phone. "Dieter, as much as I love you, I don't love you that much. Let me call someone for that, ok?"

A few hours later, on the red carpet.

"Dieter," his publicist says under his breath as they walk down the red carpet. "The cameras are this way, why are you so distracted?"

"I'm looking for someone," Dieter replies as he winks at the sea of paparazzi, flashing them a peace sign as he walks toward the venue's entrance.

"Well, who are you looking for?" His publicist replies impatiently, looking down the red carpet.

"Doll, obviously. Do you know if she's arrived yet?"

His publicist rolls his eyes, sighing. "She arrived about five minutes ago, don't you see her?"

Dieter inhales deeply, his gaze scanning past the vibrant red carpet until it locks onto yours. His breath catches in his chest, surprised by the unexpected connection. You appear taken aback at first, but swiftly compose yourself, subtly angling your body towards him with a seductive smile playing on your lips.

"Holy Shit..." Dieter's mind races with excitement. "She really does want me."

Filled with newfound confidence, he playfully purses his lips in your direction, sending a cheeky kiss your way as his eyebrows wiggle in amusement. A flush of color blooms across your cheeks in response, catching his eye. But as he revels in the moment, he notices The Shark's gaze narrowing in his direction, a whisper passing between him and you.

That's fucking right Shark.  I'm coming for my girl, and there is nothing you can fucking do about it.  

Later, Dieter observes you from across the room as you sit at your table, alone, nursing another glass of champagne. He notices how you try to avoid meeting his gaze, despite catching you stealing glances at him throughout the night when you think he isn't looking. It surprises him to see you being so reserved, so quiet, especially without The Shark hovering around you like a protective dragon guarding its treasure.

What's gotten you so down, babydoll?  he muses, leaning back into his chair. As if you could read his thoughts, your eyes meet from across the room once more, and you quickly look away, smiling to yourself at getting caught looking.

Dieter senses the moment's significance, his heart racing with anticipation. He knows he must seize this opportunity, the perfect moment to step forward and break the barrier between the two of you. With a determined smile, he decides it's time to make his move.

As he rises from his chair, Dieter's confidence swells, fueled by the intensity of the moment. With purposeful strides, he crosses the room, his gaze fixed on you, the anticipation building with each step. This is his chance to bridge the gap, to finally reveal the feelings he's kept hidden for so long.

He draws in another deep breath as he approaches you from behind, mustering his most seductive gaze as he leans in towards your exposed ear, his warm breath grazing your skin.

"I can't help but notice that you've been eye-fucking me the entire night."

He groans softly as he takes a seat in the chair beside yours, hoping to conceal any nerves as he attempts to exude charm. "I guess my little ploy of trying to get your attention with that 'Wired' interview worked out in my favor-"

You respond with a subtle smile, your fingers gracefully tracing the edge of your champagne glass. How does something as simple as that manage to rile me up? he wonders inwardly, returning your smile.

"You know," you say softly, a chuckle escaping you as you shake your head in disbelief, "There are more normal ways to get a girl's attention-"

The longer Dieter spends in your presence, the more he feels himself on edge, the tension mounting with every passing moment. His pulse quickens, and he can't ignore the growing semi in his suit pants. It's astonishing how much you affect him, like a siren calling out for him while lost at sea, lying in wait, ready to bring him to absolute ruin. 

Fuck. Keep it cool, Bravo.

"Ah, but you're America's Sweetheart, and your pitbull of a publicist won't let me near you, I had to let my-" he gulps at the sight of your ample bust, licking his lips in anticipation, "... intentions very clearly known."

"Well," you breathe, chest heaving. "I don't know if it's 'clearly' known," your voice drops to a whisper, like a secret that is shared only between the both of you, two lonely souls amongst a sea of chaos. "I think you're just going to have to spell it out for me."

Dieter, sensing victory, leans back triumphantly, spreading his legs as he subtly encloses you within his space. His dark, smoldering gaze meets your thinly veiled attempt at your best innocent doe eyes... but Dieter sees right through it. He grins widely, reveling in the knowledge that he's the cat about to get all of the cream—your cream.  That's right, babydoll, I've finally caught you, and I'm never going to let you go.

He laughs at the sight of you, his chin motioning to your breasts.  "Do you want to have sex with me, Dollface?"

Your eyes widen, and a small gasp escapes your lips, as you search his gaze, trying to decipher if he's just bullshitting or if he's actually fucking serious.  I'm serious, alright, he chuckles to himself. "If I miscalculated this fucking thing that's going on between us, tell me and I'll fuck off, leave you alone-"

"What if I don't want you to fuck off, and want to tell you that I'm this close to being plastered and that all I kept thinking about tonight is you railing me with that huge cock we both know is aching for me in some deserted hallway-" you challenge, picking your champagne glass for good measure, downing its contents in one swig.  For courage, he thinks. "I would beg to ask you... what's taking you so damn long, Bravo?"

WhatsApp chat between Dieter & Marcus: Dieter: Hey Marcus, are you still in the venue? Marcus: Yes! With your publicist. Did you need something? Dieter: This party blows. Can I borrow your car? Marcus: Oh, did you want me to drive you home? The party just started, Dieter. Dieter: I can drive myself back, stay for the party! Catch a ride with the suits afterward! Get shitfaced, you're officially off the clock! Marcus: Seriously? Do you know how to drive a stick? It's my baby, I don't know if I feel comfortable with you driving it, are you high right now? 🤦‍♂️ Dieter: No, for the last time, I'm fucking clean, man. Just do me a solid and let me borrow your car, I swear I'll give you a fucking raise! What do you want for one night with your baby? Tell me, I'll give you anything! Marcus: Fine. Just tell me what you did with all of that fucking perfume, there"s a bet going on and I would like to shove it in your publicist's face that I know! Dieter: Seriously man? That's all you want? Marcus: Do you want my keys or not, D? Dieter: Fine. I took the fucking perfume, doused my entire bedroom in it, and fucked myself smelling it thinking about Doll. Dieter: Is that enough of an explanation for you? Come the fuck on, man, I need your car! Please! 🙏 Marcus: 🙌 Meet me at the lobby in five. 

"So tell me," Dieter shouts as he peels out of the parking lot, laughing at the delighted squeal that escapes your lips as you throw your head back, your arms raised upward as he turns quickly into the streets of Los Angeles. "How often did you think about me, babydoll?"

You boldly reach over to cup his erection, your small hand wrapping around the tip of it. "As much as I reckon you thought of me, Bravo. Tell me, how often did you come, alone in that massive bed of yours, to the thought of your cock thrusting into my tight pussy?"

"Fuck baby, do you want me to crash this car? It's not mine, you know?"

"Answer the fucking question, Bravo."

"Baby, if you only knew how much I fucking came just thinking about your tits... I don't think you know just what exactly you got yourself into, little girl... but I'll show you just how I thought of you coming on my fat cock, giving me absolutely everything-"

I've been hungry for you, baby, and I'm going to feast on every inch of your body, just you fucking wait-

He cackles like a madman as he peels into the dwindling streets of LA. "Are you hungry, Dollface?" he yells, almost running a red light, his eyes fixed on the glowing In n Out sign in the distance.

"I shouldn't, I have that screen test next week-"

"Fuck the screen test!" he shouts. "The night is young, and you are gorgeous. Let Dieter take care of you, baby... while I still have you in my grasp. I ain't gonna waste a moment I have you in my orbit!"

He pulls into the In n Out parking lot, cutting the engine, and pulls you into his lap, his face immediately diving into the valley between your breasts. "You can suffocate me with these tits and I would die a happy man," he mumbles against your skin, his growl reverberating throughout your entire body like wildfire. "What do you say, Doll? Would you do me the honors?"

"Fuck Dieter," you moan, tipping your head back in pleasure as his tongue teases the edge of your dress covering your breasts. "Grab my tits," you beg, grabbing his hands for good measure. Dieter wastes no time as he grabs the back of your head, pulling you into a kiss, his tongue licking along the seam of your mouth, begging for entrance.  

"Open up for me, baby girl. Let Dieter taste you-" he pleads, and you pull away with him, your hair wrecked and lipstick smeared. Dieter imagines he looks as wrecked as you do, his pupils blown and chest heaving. You pull him into another kiss, sighing into it, your mouth opening slightly. Dieter takes this as a sign to devour you completely, your tongues fighting for dominance as you begin to rock your hot pussy against his thick cock.

"I want to ride you into the sunset, D," you whisper, pulling at his curls harshly. "Are you gonna give me what I want? Or am I going to have to find someone else to do it?"

"Fuck-" Dieter pants, his gaze reaching yours, his mouth agape in awe. "How in the fuck did I get so fucking lucky-"

"Grab my tits, D," you ask once more, moaning and throwing your head back, biting your lower lip as you grind on his throbbing erection. Dieter quickly obliges, his large hands engulfing both of your breasts. His fingertips graze the edge of your dress, the hardness of your nipple pressing into the middle of his palm, and he swears that if he were to be struck down dead right at this moment, he would die a happy man.  

"Shit, I knew that your tits would feel amazing, but you are so fucking soft-"

"Oh yeah?" you tease, your teeth grazing the shell of his ear. "I'm soft in other places, too." You whisper in his ear, and he swears he feels the ghost of your smile as he moves his hands back on your hips, his fingertips squeezing the softness of your ass as he angles his dick where he imagines your clit to be, thrusting into your hot, wet heat. "Fuck, so goddamn soft-" he groans, his tongue licking a wet stripe along the tops of your breasts. "You're fucking everything I never knew I always wanted, baby girl," he praises you honestly, cupping your cheek as he pulls you into another kiss, groaning as your tongue dances with his, leaving him breathless.  

"Am I?" you pant as you wrap your arms around his neck, your pussy dragging along the thick outline of his cock. "You talk like you want to marry me or something-"

"... oh, but I do want to marry you, breed you, keep you locked up in my mansion... you have no idea just how much I've thought about you, these last few months-"

"Dieter! My Man!" someone shouts in the distance. "What the fuck are you doing here?!"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he yells back, "I'm about to fuck this beautiful woman in an In n Out parking lot, what are you doing here?"

"Fuck, can I take a pic, man?" the fan shouts as he approaches the convertible.  

"Don't you see we're a little preoccupied?" you shout at the fan, flicking him off. "Get the fuck out of here!" you shout.

The fan quickly takes a shot of the both of you with his iPhone, a half-hearted apology mumbled out of his mouth as he quickly runs back inside of the restaurant, probably to the group of men who are completely unaware of the two celebrities dry-humping the fuck out of each other in their wake, eating their double-doubles and sneaking sips out of a cup filled with some cheap ass vodka, fist-bumping the night away.

"Are you gonna come in those Gucci pants of yours, D?" you tease, your pace quickening as you ride his dick relentlessly. "How does it feel having America's Sweetheart getting you to come in your pants, baby?"

"Fuck," Dieter pants, his hand wrapping around your neck as he pushes you against the steering wheel, angling the tip of his cock against your clit. "How does it feel to get fucked by The Devil, sweetheart? Your pussy is begging me to just rip those fucking panties off and just claim you, right in front of all of these fucking people-"

You shiver at that, a choked curse and his name out of your mouth as he sees the entirety of your body begin to quiver and shake.  

"Don't fight it, baby, I know you fucking like the attention, I know you want everyone to see how much of a bad fucking girl you are inside... but don't worry, Dieter knows, and I'll help you show them," he pulls you against him harshly, your chest pushed up against his, as his teeth sink at the hollow of your neck. "I'll get the world to see just who you really are, baby. Let me show you the way-"

You scream as he thrusts into you once more as he rips your orgasm out of you violently, crying out into his neck as Dieter explodes into his Gucci trousers, the mixture of your slick and his thick cum making an absolute mess of his loaned suit.  

I guess I'll have to pay for these, Dieter thinks to himself as he cradles your shaking form into his arms, licking away the salty tears running down your face. "You did so good, Doll, don't cry-" he whispers, stroking the back of your head as he tries to get you to calm down. "What do you need, baby?"

You lie quietly against his chest, your breaths falling into rhythm with his, as he assumes you're simply gathering your thoughts. "Baby," he pleads softly, his hands tracing soothing paths along your exposed back. "Please, say something—"

"Marry me," you whisper against his chest, the words barely audible but filled with undeniable certainty.

Dieter freezes, his heart skipping a beat at your unexpected words. For a moment, he's speechless, his mind racing to catch up with the sudden turn of events. Slowly, he lifts his head to meet your gaze, eyes wide with shock and disbelief.

"What did you say?" he breathes, his voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid that speaking any louder might shatter the fragile moment.

You lift your head, meeting Dieter's stunned gaze with unwavering determination. "I said, marry me," you repeat, your voice steady despite the racing of your heart. "Let's take this car and drive it to Vegas, get married by some overweight Elvis impersonator, and book the honeymoon suite at the Cosmo... I don't care how we do it, but let's get fucking married, D!"

Dieter's mind whirls with a mix of emotions—astonishment, disbelief, and a profound sense of joy. He blinks several times, as if trying to confirm that he's not dreaming, before a wide grin spreads across his face.

"Oh, my God," he breathes, his voice trembling with emotion. "Yes. Yes, a thousand times yes."

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[toppersjeep]

Cold Hearted Angel - Max Verstappen/ Lando Norris

(Max Verstappen X Lando Norris X Reader)

Summary: You and Max work together. However you don’t get along with each other at all. You have never liked Max. But you pretend to since your are his PR manager. But what happens when Max learns about who you’ve been seeing on the grid.

Your POV

“Max you have a couple interviews soon” I said. “Yeah Y/N just give me a minute” Max said. “Max we gotta do these now I don’t have the time” I said. “Like you have anything better to do” Max said setting his helmet down. “Max I do have places to be” I said. “And I don’t care you can wait a couple minutes” Max said.

“Do you care about anyone else besides yourself” I said. “I do care about others Y/N but you don’t need to boss me around” Max said. “Forgive me for having a love life unlike you” I said. “What do you mean love life” Max said.

“Please I’m not telling you” I said walking out of his room. He followed me. “What is it another driver on the grid it is huh” Max said looking at me. “Will you shut up and get ready for these interviews” I said. “Y/N” Lando said walking over to me. “What’s up” I said. Lando looked at Max.

“Later for the quadrant video what time” Lando asked. “Whenever Lando” I said with a smile. “Okay great so umm.. ride out with me” Lando said. “Yeah absolutely” I said he smiled. “Okay great love see you later” he said kissing my cheek.

“Lando seriously” Max said. “Shut up please” I said. “Your so” Max said. “So what Max finish that sentence” I said. “You just look for attention from any guy on this grid” Max said. “Oh I do and how about you Max” I said. “What about me” Max said. “You are so cold hearted” I said.

“I’m cold hearted Y/N wow big words coming from you” Max said. “What’s that supposed to mean” I said. “If it wasn’t for me you wouldn’t have this job remember” Max said. “Who said I want this job all you do is scream at me” I said. “And tell me that I’m doing this wrong” I said looking at him. “Then go is that what you want” Max said.

“What”I said. “Max you can’t be serious” I said. “Why don’t you go be Landos assistant or whatever I don’t give a shit” Max said. “Max” I said. “You know what I really hope you figure your shit out” Max said. “Fuck you” I said throwing the papers at him. “Y/N don’t walk away” Max said.

“I quit Max I’m done” I said teary eyed. “You can’t just run away from this” Max said. “Watch me and I don’t need you to get a job” I said. “Whatever Y/N” Max said. I walked back to the Red Bull paddock to grab my things. It was time to leave anyways.

I met Lando out the paddock. He walked to me and hugged me. He then kissed my forehead.

“How was your night love” Lando said as we walked to his car. I put my bags in the trunk. I didn’t say anything to him. I just couldn’t. I was hurt. Max and I were friends for a long time. But I don’t understand why he acted the way he did to me tonight.

We got in the car. It was silent. Just silent.

“What’s on your mind” Lando said as we drove back to his place. “Nothing” I said looking out the window. He placed his hand on mine.

“You sure love” Lando said. “Yeah you know how Max gets” I said. “Doesn’t mean you deserve to feel treated badly” Lando said. “I’m alright but.. I quit” I said. “You quit being his pr manager” Lando asked. “Yeah I’m over it lan” I said. We got back to his house he shared with Max.

“Well guess what your hired” Lando said. “For” I said. “I need a manager for myself you know” Lando said. “Oh” I said. “Your first order of business is inside” Lando said. “Really what am I doing” I said. “Me perhaps” Lando said.

The following day…

I rolled over to check my phone. I had a missed call from Christian and Max. And a million texts from Max. But I really didn’t care.

“Baby come back to bed” Lando said. “Lando” I said. “Do I gotta be your boss and say it too” he said with a cute smile. I kissed his lips. “I gotta make a phone call” I said. “Alright” Lando said. I then walked outside on the balcony and answered it.

(M- Max Y- You)

The phone call:

Y: what do you want max ?

M: I just wanna apologize for last night I was a jerk

Y: not the word I’d use but sure

M: alright an asshole but I’m so sorry okay

Y: I still quit max

M: will you at least accept my apology y/n

Y: max I can but I don’t get you at all

M: I’m really sorry I just got a bit jealous I guess

Y: Of what Max Lando he’s my boyfriend do you get that

M: of course you don’t get it

Y: get what Max

M: I’d rather not do this over the phone I gotta go Y/N have fun with Lando

____

Max then hung up the phone. And the balcony door opened.

“Love you wanna grab breakfast before we go film the video” Lando said. “Ummm yeah but first may I borrow your car” I asked. “Yeah sure” Lando said. I threw some pants on and my shoes. I then grabbed his keys and ran downstairs.

“In a hurry” Lando said. “I’ll be back okay I gotta I deal with something” I said. “Alright drive careful” Lando said kissing me. “I will” I said.

I drove to Max’s apartment. I parked outside next to his car. I then ran upstairs to his door. I knocked a couple times.

“Max will you open up please” I said. “Why should I” Max said. “I don’t know aren’t we friends” I said he opened the door. “Friends” Max said. “We are friends” I said. “Of course you still don’t get it” Max said. “Get what you make no sense” I said.

He then pulled me into a kiss. And then I got it. How protective he always is over me. How jealous he gets over the other drivers that hit on me.

“Y/N… I’ve been in love with you for a long time” he said cupping my cheek. “Max..” I said. “What” Max said. “What if I can’t give you the answer you want” I said. “You can’t tell me you don’t feel anything” Max said.

“I… don’t know how to feel right now” I said. “I just I’m so in love with you” Max said looking at me. “Max” I said. He looked at me. I did love him. I had for years. But I got tired of waiting for him.

Then I met Lando. Someone who put me first. Someone who didn’t make me wait. Someone who made me feel loved.

“Now you tell me after I spent years loving you silently” I said. “All I wanted was you for the longest time” I said. “Y/N please don’t go” Max said. “But now that I have Lando you tell me” I said. “I should’ve told you a long time ago I know” Max said. I moved his hands.

“Maybe if you weren’t so cold hearted all the time.. you would’ve realized how much I loved you” I said. “I still love you but I can’t be with you” I said. “Y/N.. what am supposed to do” Max said.

“I don’t know Max” I said. “I’m sorry for treating you so bad sometimes” Max said. “Mmh” I said. “I just hope he… treats you well” Max said. “He does Max.. but sometimes I wonder what it would’ve been like with you” I said.

I then walked away. And that was it. I had the last word. I didn’t wanna hear anything more from him.

I drove back to Landos place. He was in the kitchen making breakfast.

“All good” Lando asked. I walked over and hugged him. “Thank you” I said. “For what silly” Lando said. “Loving me” I said. “I’ll always love you” Lando said.

#fanfic #love #lewis hamilton #lando norris #f1 imagine #daniel ricciardo #x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #lando norris x reader #lando x reader #f1 fanfic #red bull f1 #charles leclerc #Spotify

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Fringe Benefits

Part of my Birthday Bash!

Request: “you’re spending more time at my desk than at your own” for Roy

Roy Kent x Reader 0.7k words Warnings: Language

“Well, well, well, what have we here?”

You turned around, smiling at Roy as he strolled into his office. He raised his thick eyebrows at you, nodding a greeting. You wondered if he could see the way your eyes flickered down his figure, checking him out, the way you could never resist doing when you saw him.

You’d been working at A.F.C. Richmond for about three months now, having been hired by Keeley Jones to manage their PR. It was a fun job and, if you were being honest, the sight of Roy Kent in those track pants was definitely a perk.

“Hey,” you hummed. “I was just leaving you a note.” You nodded at the sticky note you’d begun to write on before the sound of his growling voice interrupted you. “Got those concert tickets for you and Pheebs for Friday. But make sure you post on your Instagram, alright?” You gave his arm a playful smack. “Or I’m never doing you a favor ever again.”

A smile broke out across that handsome face. “Fuck, thanks a lot. I really appreciate it.” He paused, gazing at you thoughtfully. “This is what, the third time today you’ve been down here?” He narrowed his playful eyes at you. “I think people are starting to notice that you spend more time at my desk than you do at your own. What, you using me to get your fucking steps in?”

You rolled your eyes. Okay, maybe your crush on Roy Kent was obvious to everyone at Nelson Road. Keeley teased you about it nonstop. The players, especially Jamie Tartt, often gave you sly, knowing smiles when they saw you make your familiar way to Roy’s office. Even little Phoebe had asked you if you were her Uncle Roy’s girlfriend when she met you at a Greyhounds match- a question she repeated every time you saw her, actually.

“Come on Kent, you know I just come visit you for the snacks.” To punctuate your point, you opened one of his desk drawers and pulled out a sweet. With a wink, you popped the treat into your mouth.

Now Roy rolled his eyes at you as he approached you, standing a smidge too close, the way he’d been doing almost since the day you started working at Nelson Road. “And here I thought you came all the way down here for the pleasure of my company.”

Another sweet found its way into your mouth. “Ah, that’s just a fridge benefit, Coach.”

“Fringe benefit, eh?” Roy snorted, his cheeks tinging pink as he glanced down at the floor. Fuck, he looked adorable like this. How could a man look bashful and confident at once? And how could he look so damn good at the same time? “So, you’re basically using me to manage your sweets cravings, then?”

“Afraid so, Kent.”

He nodded as he glanced at you through his lashes. “Then maybe you let me buy you some kind of fruity drink after work today. For your cravings.” He smirked. “And the fridge benefit of my company.”

Could he see the way the color rushed to your cheeks? “O-oh. Yeah. That would be nice.” You took a step back towards the door, needing to run back to your office and call Keeley to squeal- and maybe ask her to come drop off a change of clothes. “I’ll see you after work then.” As you turned, hoping you didn’t sound as nervous as you suddenly felt, Roy cleared his throat.

“Oi.” You glanced over your shoulder, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of his cocky grin. “And see if you can get one more ticket for that concert. You don’t have plans Friday, do you?”

Oh hell. If your smile got any bigger, your cheeks would probably crack. “I’m free,” you managed. “And I’d love to go to the concert with you guys.”

Roy nodded, looking nothing short of pleased. “Right. I should let you go back to your work, then.” His expression became teasing again. “I’m sure you’ll be back down here in an hour or so. I’ll have some snacks waiting for you.”

A giggle tumbled out of your mouth as you shook your head at Roy. “I’m sure you will.” With a little wave, you strolled away, already coming up with another excuse to come back downstairs to visit Roy Kent.

#tally's birthday bash #request ❤️ #he's here he's there he's every fucking where #roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent fanfic #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent imagine #ted lasso #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction

[atlafan]

Peaches and Cream - One Shot

a/n: okay yall went crazy for this blurb so I wrote a full one shot for it. lmk if you want to see more from these two! Please reblog, put notes in the tags, send me asks. All feedback is important. It keep me writing! not proofread

warnings: smut, enemies to lovers

words: 8.6K

Masterlist I Patreon

There he was, looking at her with the smuggest look she’s ever seen. He’s tucking his shirt back into his pants, fastening the button and zipper, and looking up at her with rosy cheeks and closed-mouth grin. When all she does is look at him stoically, he chuckles softly, shakes his head, and finishes getting dressed. He leans in to leave a peck to her forehead before departing.

“Harry.” She calls to him, making him turn to look at her. “This was a one-time thing.”

“Whatever you say, Peach.”

And then he’s gone. She frowns at the use of her nickname. The one bestowed upon her by her mother. It was “Peaches” actually, but over the years people have just come to call her “Peach”. It wasn’t something she thought would carry over into her adult life, but she did. Then in bled into her professional life. She doesn’t mind when people call her that…except for him. Whenever Harry calls her Peach or Peaches, he says it in the most condescending tone. Sometimes when he’s feeling especially obnoxious, he likes to call her “Peaches and Cream”.  He turned her sweet nickname into something she almost hates hearing now. But everyone knows her as Peach, and she doesn’t want to rock the boat by making them call her, her actual name. (Which she can’t stand. And her middle name is no good either.)

She hates Harry. He’s been a menace to her for years. So how she allowed him to take her home and fuck her into her mattress…she can’t really recall. As she shuffles into her bathroom and washes her face, she thinks about how the night’s events transpired. They weren’t intoxicated. They weren’t under the influence of any kind. They were simply working late, which was nothing out of the ordinary for either of them.

She and Harry are both account managers at a prestigious PR firm – Harris Public Relations & Media Consultation. Harry is a nepotism baby though. His father worked at Harris for years, was the CFO, that whole thing. So it was easy for Harry to get an internship during undergrad in the marketing department. And it was easy for Harry to get hired on as a copy editor while going for his MBA. And it was easy for Harry to move up the ranks until he was one of the lead account managers.

Peach, on the other hand, well…she worked a little harder. She got a full ride to Columbia thanks to hours upon hours of writing letters and essays for scholarships. She thought she might like to go into journalism, but she only ended up minoring in it. What stole her heart was media relations and literacy. She just found it fascinating! The theory behind what media are, and how to properly learn how to use them interested her more than anything. She took a course on the art of media training, and that was it for her. She knew she wanted to do something in the world of public relations. She also looked up to Samantha from Sex and the City, and how she was able to basically build an empire all on her own. That was Peach’s dream, to someday have her own PR firm.

But she knew it would take time to be able to do that. She had to learn the business and make a name for herself. She found an internship during undergrad, but she had to go through a more rigorous interview process than Harry had. She also got her start in copy editing, but for a small marketing company. Working at a place like Harris would be a huge stepping stone for her career. So when a job opened up on the media relations team a few years back, she applied. And thanks to her networking skills, she had some incredible people to put down as references. It took over a month, but she was hired. She was doing copy editing, working with clients, doing some media training to up and coming artists. All things that were good experience for her to get under belt.

Being an account manager though…that’s where the big buck and the notoriety are. This where are a person can put their money where their mouth is. The CEO, now Harris’ son Jeremy, is the one who assigns the account managers to specific clients. Each manager has a team, that team puts together a pitch, and they all pitch it to the client. The client then picks which pitch they like best, and that manager and their teams gets to work with the client going forward. Everyone gets paid a standard salary, but account managers are given a commission when their pitch is selected. Not to mention the pure bragging rights.

So, she knew if she ever wanted her own PR firm, then she’d start needing experience managing accounts. She requested a one-on-one meeting with Jeremy after working for the company for two years. She did good work. She brought him facts and figures. He was impressed. When he asked what she wanted when she was done selling herself to him, she explained her work goals and aspirations. She didn’t say she wanted to have her own firm, no, she told him she wanted to be an account manager here at Harris and she wanted to be the one to continue getting them in the 21st century. She wanted to bring the company more money and more clients. This is exactly what Jeremy wanted to hear. But since she’s a woman, she had to be a bit more persuasive. She knows how Jeremy is. He looks, but never touches. He’s a married man, after all. So, she gave him various things to look at that day. She wore her tightest pencil skirt that fell about halfway around her thighs, sheer, black tights underneath, a pair of pumps that would help her legs look a little longer, and a blouse that showed off her cleavage beautifully.

It was in the bag. Jeremy’s eyes drifted and wandered as she spoke. She pretended not to care that she was being openly objectified by the CEO of the company. And by the end of the meeting, he told her that one of the other account managers would be retiring at the end of that month, but no one knew yet. So, the open position would go right to her if she wanted it. She accepted, and shook his hand, lingering just a tad to make him feel wanted. Giving a man an ego boost is always the icing on the cake. She got exactly what she wanted.

This tactic may not have been obvious to the other account managers, but it was obvious to Harry. He has no problem working with women. He prefers to work in a diverse space, so that’s not the problem. The problem is he knew exactly how she played it. She used her looks and body to weasel her way into an open position that she didn’t have a formal interview for. Harry was hoping there would be a legitimate search done for a new account manager so one of his friends at another frim could apply. But no…Peach got it.

She was given the office right next to Harrys. Glass all around for easy view of the city and the people working at the desks outside of the offices. There were blinds that could be pulled for privacy, of course. She had her own assistant that would help manager her calendar and meetings. And now she’d be able to put her own teams together for pitches. She knew who she liked in the graphics department, and she knew who she liked in the print shop, and she knew who she liked for writing copy. It was all falling into place.

Harry was convinced that she slept with Jeremy to get the position. To him, it seemed like she had no experience for pitching to clients and making the important things happen. To him, she had more experience in damage control, quality assurance, those types of things.

At her first account managers meeting, Jeremy was there to deliver some new updates. He was a hands on CEO, just as his father was. He didn’t just want to be a figure head for the company. He still took on the occasional client and everything.

“And my last announcement is to welcome our newest account manager, Peach.” He smiled in her direction, and everyone looked at her. She smiled at everyone sheepishly, then they turned their attention back to Jeremy.

After the meeting, Harry saw her refilling her water bottle at the water bottle station near the bathrooms. He was going to refill his bottle as well.

“Congrats on movin’ on up.” He said her. At first she thought he was being sincere. Could the nepotism baby actually be a kind person with a soul?

“Thank you, Harry.”

“Please, just call me H, everyone else does.”

“Alright.” She smiled and stepped aside to let him refill his water.

“So, what kind of a name is Peach? Did your parents have an affinity for the fruit?” He asked her nonchalantly.

“No, it’s just a nickname my mom gave me when I was a kid. She used to call me Peaches, and then that shortened to Peach as I got older. It sort of stuck, and I prefer to use it. It’s shorter than my actual name. Rolls off the tongue easier.”

“Ah.” Harry nodded, screwing the cap back onto his bottle. “I bet Jeremy thought you were just the sweetest thing, then?” He said sweetest thing with a slight country twang. Was he mocking her? Her mother may have been from the south, but she was no bumpkin.

“I don’t know about that, but I know he liked what he saw when I showed him my portfolio.”

“Mm.” He nodded again. “Well, bless your heart, Peaches. Welcome to the team.”

He turned and walked away from her, leaving the foulest taste in her mouth. So what if she was born in Georgia. She wasn’t raised there. Her parents got divorced, and her mother moved them up north to Boston where one of her cousins lived. Her mother met a man that worked in IT, and she got a new step-dad in a matter of a couple of years. She doesn’t even have an accent. Her mother barely has one anymore. What the fuck was Harry’s problem?

The two didn’t see much of each other except for the weekly account managers meeting. They were often working on different projects, and they never used the same people for their teams. Jeremy assigned specific managers to specific pitches because he knew where certain people had expertise. Different clients needed different things. So, really, Peach didn’t have to work with Harry all that much. She hated that her office was next to his, but it’s not like he was a distraction.

He knew how to push her buttons, though. He’d throw in various version of her nickname during meetings to make her look stupid and juvenile. Saying things like, “We haven’t heard from Peaches on this”, or, “Settle down Peach and Cream”, or literally anything that would make her the butt of a joke. She loathed him. Harry knew it was childish to pick on her, but he was pissed. If she could schmooze her way into this position, who’s to say she won’t do that again for an even higher position? No way will she ever be the boss of him. Harry works hard, and he’s good at what he does. He’s one of the top account managers at the firm. If anyone’s going to get a bump up, it should be him.

It went on like this for a year. They made each other crazy. Then came the day when Harry, Chris, John, and Peach were all called into a meeting with Jeremy and his executive assistant. This is usually how he assigned really important pitches to a select number of account managers. What both Harry and Peach couldn’t figure out is why they were being called into the same meeting.

“You all are familiar with the popular hotel chain called RJR, right?” Everyone nods and hums in agreement. “They’re looking to rebrand. They’ve had the same logo, slogan, and branding for over thirty years, and they want to change things up. They want to get more young people using their website to book rooms and events. The majority of their clientele are older people, and they love them, but they want to expand and market to more.” Everyone takes notes as Jeremy explains. “You all have experience when it comes to helping a company work through rebranding. This is going to be an insanely involved project, so I wanted my top managers on this.”

Harry thought he was going to explode. Since when was Peach a top account manager? She’s only been at this for a year! Harry’s been managing accounts for over five! He knows he gets paid more, especially since his pitches are usually the ones chosen by the client, but now he seems to have some real competition. Jeremy’s assistant emails everyone the briefing on what the hotel is looking to do. Now it’s on the account managers to do some market research before pulling their teams together. They have a week and a half before the VP of Marketing from RJR comes to hear the pitches.

She stays late every night to do take notes and put her information together. They all still have other work during the day to get done. It’s not unusual for people to stay late. She wants to be able to articulate what different populations are looking for in terms of hotel service. What’s important to these different age groups? 24-hour front desk service? A proper mini-fridge? Storage space? Free breakfast? It’s a lot to consider. If the nightly rate is high, what are the customers getting for that price?

“Well, look he’s still here.” Harry’s graining, agitating voice rings loud and clear to her as he steps into her office. “It’s Miss Peach Pie.”

“What do you want, H? I’m busy.” She says flatly.

“Nothing.” He shrugs. “I was just finishing up my work for the night. I used one of the conference rooms that has a larger whiteboard so I could brainstorm a little.” He puts his hands in his pockets and smirks at her. “Don’t get too excited though, I erased everything, so you won’t be able to steal any of my ideas.”

“Your ideas are probably just as stupid as you are, so I’m all set.”

“Oof.” He puts his hands over his heart to fake that she’s wounded him. “That was a good one. Calling me stupid is so high level.”

“I apologize, I’m a bit tired from the day. I promise to insult you properly tomorrow morning after a good night’s sleep.”

“You know you’re not going to be selected for this, right? You’re going up against me, John, and Chris. You don’t stand a chance.”

“Sounds like someone’s projecting.” She sing-songs. “You’re that scared of me stealing your thunder?”

“All I’m saying is, you’re running with the big dogs now. Some of us aren’t exactly friendly.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice about that.”

“Just don’t be surprised when one of us bites you on the ass.”

“Hm.” She grins and crosses her arms over her chest, leaning back in her chair. “And what would a bitchless guy like yourself know about biting asses?” Harry’s mouth falls open. “I mean, it’s one thing for a woman to work late. I don’t have kids to get home to, and I pay my neighbor’s kid to feed my dog and take him out. But you, a man of such stature and status, you’d think you’d have some hole to rush home to.” She pouts mockingly at him. “What’s wrong? Your pocket pussy just not doing it for you anymore?”

Harry narrows his eyes at her. “My private life stays separate from work. Pardon me for not talking about what or who I get into on the weekends like some of our other colleagues.”

“It’s okay to admit you’re a virgin, H. Everyone does everything in their own time. I’m sure it’ll happen for you someday.” She smiles ever so sweetly at him. “Life isn’t a race.”

“Go to hell.” He huffs, and leaves her office to go to his, gathering his things and leaving her in their wing all alone.

He hates her. He loathes her. He has to beat her at this, he can’t let her win.

//

After a week and a half of snide comments, and hours upon hours of extra work, the VP of Marketing from RJR is here in the nicest conference room to hear the four different pitches. Jeremy is sitting with her. Her name is Adelaide Benjamin. She looks to be in her late forties, but her eyes are kind. It’s not often the managers get to pitch to a woman. It makes John and Chris a little nervous for their presentations. They’re both guys’ guys. Harry can charm anyone, so he’s not worried one bit. And Peach, well, she’s not stupid enough to relax just because she’s pitching to a woman. Often times in business, women aren’t so quick to support other women.

The four of them get to meet with Adelaide, sharing a delicious breakfast catered by the firm’s dining department. She goes over her plans and what the company over all is looking to do. They all are given time to freshen up and use the bathroom before the presentations start. John goes first, then Harry, then Peach, and then Chris. The four of them are brought back in after Adelaide and Jeremy chat for a while.

“Thank you all so much for your marvelous presentations. I’m going to take back the materials you’ve given me to my team, and talk things over with them. I should have an answer on who I’d like to take this on in a few days.”

Oh, she’s thorough. Today is Thursday, which means they won’t have an answer until Monday. Which means the four of them are going to be on edge until then. It makes it difficult to concentrate on their other projects. Peach’s stomach isn’t feeling too great. She’s not sure if she ate too much or too little earlier. She’s not sure if it’s the nerves. She’s not sure if maybe her skirt is just a little too tight around her stomach as she sits. It’s really a better outfit for standing.

She manages to get through the day unscathed, but around 5:15, she’s rushing to the bathroom. She’s never sure which end is worse for things to come out of, but at work, she’d prefer to throw up. Luckily, that’s all it is. She heaved hard until her stomach was empty, and it was just bile coming out. She stands up slowly, and goes to rinse her mouth out at the sink. She keeps a spare toothbrush in her office, and makeup wipes. She sighs with relief at the thought because looking at herself in the mirror right now…

Her forehead is clammy, her body feels sweaty, and she looks like a raccoon because now her eye makeup has smeared and clumped under her eyes. She’s just happy she had the good sense to put her hair up before coming to the bathroom to throw up. Feeling exhausted, she pushes the bathroom door open only to be met with Harry refilling his water bottle. He looks at her like he’s looking at a ghost. He almost looks concerned? That can’t be.

“Was…was that you in there?” He blinks, and she nods. “Christ, I don’t think I’ve heard someone yak that violently before. Do you always sound like that when you spew?”

“I don’t know, I don’t usually pay attention to the way I vomit while it’s happening.” She wipes under her eyes and sighs when she sees how much makeup comes off on her hands. “I need to go clean myself up.”

“Are you feeling alright?” He asks as he follows her back to her office. He watches as she pops a piece of gum in her mouth, and uses a wipe to clean her face. “Are you sick?”

“My stomach’s been bothering me all day. I think it was something I ate this morning.”

“Well, I feel fine and no one else seemed to get sick from the food.”

“Maybe it’s a stomach bug, then. I don’t know. I plan to take a sleeping aid and knock out when I get home.”

“Could be something else.” He smirks. “Maybe you’re pregnant. What a blessing that would be. You’d go on maternity leave, we’d hire someone on in your place on a temporary basis, they’d excel, and then you’d be fired a month after returning.” He looks off, smiling, as if he can really picture it. “What a world that would be.”

“Just because a woman throws up does not mean she’s pregnant.” She bites. Harry looks at her. He’s never seen her face look so plain and delicate. He’s seen her at the end of the day before. He knows what she looks like when she’s exhausted. This is just the most vulnerable he’s ever seen her. It’s like she’s taken all of her armor off. “I’m packing up so I can go home. Hopefully it was just a one and done.”

“Maybe you should stop by a pharmacy on your way. You know, grab some Nyquil, maybe some O.J., and a pregnancy test, just to be sure.”

“You know, you really shouldn’t be an ass about things like this.” She huffs as she stuffs her bag with her things. “What if I was trying to get pregnant, hm? What if I’ve miscarried? What if I couldn’t have children? Do you know how awful it would be to be questioned like this if I had all that going on? You don’t like being asked about your personal life, well, neither do I. So drop it.”

“You’re right, it was insensitive me to joke about that.” He says genuinely, and it helps her to calm down. “It was stupid for me to even bring it up. I mean, it’s not like you’re fucking anyone. You said it yourself, the only thing you’re going home to is your dog.”

Her bottom lip juts out in a pout. Harry’s about to roll his eyes because she’s famous for using that pout to her advantage, but when he notices her lip start to quiver and tears slipping down her cheeks, well, his entire demeanor changes.

“Shit, I took it too far.” He crosses the room over to her just as she’s grabbing a tissue to dab her eyes with.

“You always do, it’s nothing I can’t handle.” She says through her tears. “Don’t go all soft on me just because I’m tearing up.” She wipes under her eyes and reaches for her coat. “You have no idea what I’ve been through in the last six months because I check my shit at the door. Work is a good distraction. I used to have more to go home to, but I don’t anymore.” She brushes by him over to her door, and she motions for him to leave so she can lock it. “But at least I still have something there that’s happy to see me when I get in. What do you have, huh?” He furrows his eyebrows as he looks at her. “You have absolutely nothing outside of this place.” She zips up her jacket and locks her office door. “See you tomorrow, asswipe.”

//

She doesn’t see him tomorrow. She actually had to call out of work. Turns out she does have a stomach bug. She’s feeling much better by the time Monday comes around. She knows she was really harsh when she last spoke to Harry, but she doesn’t care. He’s been harsh with her time and time again. It’s about time someone gives it back to him.

Her assistant tells her she has a meeting with Jeremy at nine, so she prepares for that. She wonders if he’s letting her down easy for not getting the pitch. She figures Harry probably got it. She stops short at Jeremy’s office when she sees Harry chatting with Jeremy’s assistant.

“Oh, good, you’re both here. Come in.” Jeremy says, and she and Harry both go to sit on the other side of his desk. “I had a video call with Adelaide last night. After looking over all the materials with her team, she feels as though it would be best if the two of you worked on the account together.”

“What?” They say at the same time.

“She enjoyed both of your pitches immensely, and was having a hard time choosing. She said you both bring different and interesting ideas to the table, and she’d like to see them combined cohesively. You each will still get a full commission, so it’s not like you have to split this one.” He looks at Harry, then at her, smiling fondly as his eyes rake over her body. “Peach, I think it would be a good opportunity for you to work with Harry. As you know, he’s one of the top account managers at this firm, he has plenty of experience under his belt, especially a rebrand of this caliber.”

“Yes, sir, that makes sense.” She says, swallowing her pride a bit as she nods.

“And Harry, you could learn a thing or two from Peach. She’s very up to date on what Gen Z is up to online. Adelaide noted that she enjoyed Peach’s ideas for getting the company on Tik Tik. I know social media outside of Facebook and Instagram isn’t your favorite, but it’s a fad that seems to be everlasting.”

“Tik Tok…right.” Harry nods slowly.

“You have a month to get a concise concept together for her review. You’ll be sent some of their own market research that her team has done. It should help you figure out how to best target the audiences they’re looking draw in. Any questions?” They both shake their heads no. “Excellent. Hop to it.”

The two stand up and leave in complete shock. They don’t speak to each other for two days. Neither of them know what to say to the other. But Wednesday rolls around and it hits them that a month really isn’t a ton of time to put everything together, so they need to meet. They block out the whole afternoon to meet in one of the larger conference rooms so they can looks over the other’s materials and use the whiteboards to brainstorm.

“I still don’t understand the need for a Tik Tok account for a hotel chain. Who would want to watch videos about a hotel?” Harry asks her.

“The videos wouldn’t be about the hotel. People like it when brands jump onto weird trends that have absolutely nothing to do with their product. It’s funny and unexpected. It drive those viewers to their account page which is where a link to the hotel site would be.” She smiles smugly. “I didn’t think I’d have to explain something so simple to you, but that’s on me for assuming you have at least one brain cell in that giant head of yours.”

“Making fun of someone’s personal appearance is shallow, rude, and cheap.” He turns his nose up at her. “I didn’t look at the Tik Tok thing in that way. I don’t use the app myself, so I guess I’m not up on all the trends and whatnot.”

“It’s actually pretty fun. There are definitely people on there with brain rot, but you can just block the accounts you don’t want to see. Let me guess…you use reels?”

“No.” Harry says defensively. “But I have friends that send them to me from time to time.”

“Wait a second.” She shakes her head in confusion. “You have friends?”

“Not all of us prefer to only converse with four-legged animals, Peaches.” He sighs. “What did you think of the mock ups my team did for the logo?”

“I actually really liked them. You had Lee do these?”

“Yeah, he’s always my go to.”

“This one’s my favorite, it’s sleek, not too busy, but it still has some pizazz.” She taps her finger on one of the pieces of paper.

“Alright, something we actually agree on.” Harry sets the other logos aside on the other side of the table. “Now, I was thinking we could do some type of mailer for the crowd that doesn’t like digital marketing. A post card with a coupon code could go over very well. They can be directed to the website or call the hotel directly.”

“We can send it as an email as well.”

“Right.” Harry nods. “I was thinking long-time rewards members could get a voucher for one free night, or free breakfast during their stay. Adelaide said the company is fine with spending a little to make a lot.”

“I think giving that to long-time members is a good idea. It costs more to get and retain new people, let’s focus on the people we have.”

“Exactly.” Harry smiles. “So, here’s a binder full of information I had my assistant put together. If you could look through it and take some notes, I can-“

“I’m going to stop you right there.” She slides the binder back over to him. “I’m not your admin, I’m not going to be the only one doing the clerical work. Also, do not assign tasks to me like I’m lesser than you.”

“Jeremy said you could learn from me. I’m just showing you my process. Like me or not, I have a good track record with my clients. I’ve already looked through the binder and put my notes in the margins. I just wanted you to look it over as well so we have the same information.”

“You could have said that in the first place.” She murmurs.

“You’re very hostile when you don’t need to be.”

“If I’m hostile it’s because you make the environment that way. You’re always so combative. You make everything a competition!”

“That’s our job! We compete for clients.”

“But you’re especially competitive with me. I’m a woman in a male dominated field and office, I have to work twice as hard as you. If I show the wrong emotion, I’m a bitch or a pushover or weak or nasty.”

“Are you telling me that I don’t work hard? That I didn’t work hard to get to where I am?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Your father was the CFO! Of course you got one of the best jobs here.”

“I worked my way up same as you.”

“It wasn’t the same, Harry.”

“You’re right, I didn’t sleep my way to top.”

“Excuse me?!”

“Don’t act so surprised that I figured it out, it’s obvious.”

“What’s obvious?” Her eyes and nostrils are flaring.

“You hooked up with Jeremy, that’s how you got the open position without going through the formal interview process. That’s why you dress and act the way you do. You wanted his attention, you got it, and you have him something in return. Now, I don’t know if you blew him under his desk or if you let him fuck you, but-“ Smack! Harry clutches at his cheek, and looks at her in shock. Her chest is heaving and her eyes are watery.

“How fucking dare you.”

“Did you just slap me?! I could report you, I could-“

“And I could report you for sexual harassment and defamation of character! That’s how you think I got this job? By sleeping with the CEO?”

“It had to have been! I see the way he looks at you. I see the way everyone looks at you.”

“I asked for a meeting with him, not even knowing there was going to be a position opening up. I just wanted to sit with him and go over my goals and where’d I’d like to be in the next few years. I showed him my portfolio, he asked me a few questions, and we had a great conversation. He didn’t touch me, I didn’t touch him, it was all professional.”

“Mhm.” Harry rolls his eyes. “So every time we meet with him, I’m just imagining the look he gives you?”

“What look?”

“Like he’s ready to devour you right then and there.”

“Jeremy looks, but he doesn’t touch. He would never cheat on his wife, he needs her, and he knows she’d leave him if he did anything behind his back.”

“How could you possibly even know that?”

“His assistant told me. She wanted to know what the meeting was for, she was excited for me, and she gave me some tips. So, yeah, I wore one of my best outfits and let my cleavage pop a little, but I didn’t sleep with him. And even if I had, shame on you for shaming me for it. We all have to learn to play the game, Harry. Women are dealt a different hand, so we play the game differently. I didn’t do anything wrong.” She starts gathering her things. “I cannot believe that I have to continue to work on this project with you.”

“I can’t believe you slapped me.” He rubs his cheek and starts chuckling. “Got me pretty good.”

“I’m not a particularly violent person, but you said something totally out of line, H.” She looks at him. “It’s not funny.”

With that, she leaves the conference room. They communicate via email and Teams all day Thursday. She couldn’t bare to be in the same space as him. She even worked in a separate area so she wouldn’t have to look over and see him in his office. They agreed to meet late on Friday to get back to the task at hand. They ordered takeout and got to work. Keeping things strictly professional, not getting distracted by petty conversations. Harry ended up ordering some ice cream through Uber Eats. He’s got a sweet tooth, so now they take a break while they soak in the sugar.

“I think this is really starting to come together.” He says as he walks around the conference table, looking over their materials. “I think we could probably start putting our team together next week.”

“Agreed.” She nods. “I have to say, ice cream was a good idea.”

“Much needed.” Harry sets his cup down and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “I…haven’t formally apologized for what happened the other day. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”

“It’s not about the way you spoke to me, it’s about you assuming I was fucking around with our boss to move up. And even if I was, it’s none of your business.”

“You’re right, it’s not.” He slowly approaches her. “To be honest, I don’t think it would have bothered me if it were anyone else.”

“Why? Because you already didn’t like me?”

“Yeah.” He smirks, stepping closer until her bum hits the edge of the conference table. He’s never been this close to her before. “But also…” He places his hands on either side of her on the table, their noses nearly brushing. “I hate the way the other guys look at you, especially Jeremy.”

“What do you care how other people look at me? Why do you even notice?”

“Because after I’m done looking at you, I’m looking to see if anyone else is seeing what I’m seeing.”

“What do you see?” She asks carefully, not faltering or backing down even though Harry is extremely intimidating in this position.

“The most frustratingly gorgeous woman.”

“You’re being mean.” Her bottom lip pouts ever so slightly, and Harry’s eyes darken.

“I’m being serious.” He closes his eyes and presses his forehead to hers. “You have no idea what it does to me when you pout like that.”

“H.”

“Tell me to back off if I’m making you uncomfortable.” He looks at her. “We can get right back to work, and I’ll promise to never get this close to you again.”

“You’re trying to get me caught up in something for leverage.” She pushes on his shoulders to get him to back up. “You want me to make a move so you can hold it over me. You’re being an ass and messing around.”

“I’m not messing around. Jesus Christ, not everyone in this world is out to get you.”

“I never said they were! God, you love to put words in my mouth.”

“I actually only have one thing I’d love to put in your mouth, but something tells me you wouldn’t go for it.”

“Oh, please.” She scoffs. “You’d blow your load the second the open air hits your prick. Virgins tend to lose it a little faster, but I’m sure you’ve looked that up before.”

“Why do you think I’m a virgin?” He laughs, exasperated.

“You seem very sexually repressed.” She crosses her arms over her chest, and looks him up and down. “And all this.” She gestures around him. “It doesn’t exactly scream, ‘this guy fucks’.”

“I’ll have you know I get compliments all the time on my clothes.”

“Just because they fit right doesn’t mean they’re appealing.”

“How would you know if they fit right?” He smirks.

“It’s hard not to notice when you’re always wearing pants that are tight around your ass. You’re like a math teacher or something, you love to lean over a table during a meeting and stick your butt out.”

“It’s more comfortable to stand that way.” He shrugs. “And just to circle back, if anyone’s sexually repressed, it’s you.”

“Me?”

“You’re entire aura screams that you need to get dicked down, and you need it bad.”

“Well you’re right about that.” She agrees. “But not from you. I’m not in the mood to explain the female anatomy to someone. Did you know that women can orgasm too? It’s not just something men can do.”

“Is that right.” Harry nods.

“Mhm, and we can get wet as well. Not something I would expect you to know anything about.”

“Are you wet right now?”

“That’s not a question you ask someone.” Her cheeks flush.

“Why not? Our conversation is already so vulgar. Answer the question, are you wet? Are you turned on? Are you hot?”

“Come find out for yourself.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” She motions to him to come closer. “I give you full permission to touch me and find out.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“I’m not.”

Harry steps towards her, slinging an arm around her waist to pull her closer. His other hand reaches to unzip the zipper on the side of her skirt. His fingers skim along her sheer stockings before tucking them inside. She takes a deep breath, but continues to hold eye contact with him.

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” He asks.

“Yes.”

His fingers slide down further, moving between her folds and the cotton cloth covering her. His nostrils flare when he feels how wet she is. He didn’t think he did it for her, he’s pleasantly surprised. She’s not overly drenched or anything, but she’s definitely aroused. They look at each other, both of their hearts  beating rapidly.

In a flash, Harry’s hands are flying to her jaw and he’s taking her bottom lip between his teeth. The surprised gasp she makes gives him access to the inside of her mouth. His tongue molds with hers. He’s aggressive, but not in an inexperienced excited way that would have him slobbering all over her, no, it’s the type of aggressive where if he doesn’t keep kissing her they’ll both die. He moves the various papers behind her on the table and sits her up on it. She’s on her back in seconds with him on top of her, pressing his hard cock into her hip. She tries to shift to get him where she wants him, but her skirt is too tight around her thighs. She moans into his mouth and tugs on his tie. They’re doing a lot of grinding and grabbing, but it’s frustrating.

“I’m about ready to just rip your blouse open.” He growls against her mouth.

“We can’t do this here.” She pants. “C-cameras.”

“They’re only in the halls.”

“Harry.” She pushes on his chest and she sits up. “I don’t feel comfortable doing this here.”

“Right.” He runs a hand through his hair. “It’s late, we both got carried away. We should-“

“Let’s go back to my place.”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m only offering once.”

“Text me your address, I’ll meet you there.”

//

She’s freaking out. She almost tells him not to come, but it’s too late. She can see his headlights through her front windows. She opens the front door before he even has a chance to knock, but he’s not complaining because his lips are back on hers. He pushes her up against the nearest wall, hard, and gets a hand wrapped gently around her throat. He hooks his thumb into her mouth, and she sucks on it, but she doesn’t give him the satisfaction of smiling while doing so. She nips at the pad of his thumb before he takes it out.

“Where’s your bedroom?”

“Upstairs.”

“Lead the way.”

She tugs him up the stairs, and into her room. She starts unbuttoning her blouse, but Harry’s got her on the bed before she can get it off. He kisses on her chest, biting and sucking on the top of her breasts. She weaves her fingers through his curls, pushing him closer to her. He kisses down her sternum and tugs her skirt off of her. He cups her over her stockings, grounding his palm against her. She arches her back slightly and moans. He grips the band of her stockings, curls the material around his fist, and stretches it tight over her pussy. She gasps as he wedges his thigh between hers while keeping the material tight over her. It all provides the perfect amount of friction.

“Go on, work for it.” He says to her.

“Huh?”

“You like working hard for things, right? Show me how you work for your orgasm.” He moves his thigh from side to side against her, and she groans.

She moves along with him, feeling herself get warm all over. He licks into her mouth, and stretches the stockings tighter. She’s breathing heavily against his mouth. She didn’t something like this would be getting her there, but the whole thing is just so hot, and he’s really turning her on. Her back arches as she grinds against him, her head moving from side to side on her pillows, and she comes just as her stockings tear at the crotch.

“Oops.” He says as he looks down.

“Happens more often than you think.” She breathes. “They’re not expens-“

Harry’s tearing them further at the crotch, and moving her panties to the side so he can lick over her. He presses down on her stomach to keep her in place. His mouth is warm, and he’s moaning into her. She’s squirming against him. It’s been a really long time since someone’s made her feel this good. And being fucked by her colleague that she can’t stand is giving her a type of euphoria she’s never experienced before.

Her toes curl when he sucks on her clit. He pushes her thighs further apart, and licks inside of her. He sucks, and licks, and spit, and makes a sloppy mess of her. She’s in complete shock, but she’s not complaining. She’s too busy tugging on Harry’s curls and grinding against his mouth. He told her to work for it, so she’ll continue to do just that.

“Oh, shit. Oh, shit!” She comes unexpectedly, and it knocks the wind out of her.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. They start grabbing at each other and rolling around on the bed to get their clothes off. They can’t get naked fast enough. He pins her down again once they’re unclothed, keeping her wrists above her head on the bed. He slips a finger inside of her and her mouth falls open. He sucks on her bottom lip as a second finger joins the first.

“You’re just as sweet as a peach, you know that?” He says hotly into her ear, making her eyes roll back. His thumb starts rubbing around her clit as his fingers work deep inside of her. “Knew you would.”

“You’ve thought about going down on me before?”

“I’ve thought about doing everything to you.” He moves to look at her, wanting to watch her face as he loosens her up. “I don’t have any condoms with me.”

“I have some in my d-drawer.”

“Good. Get one.” He pulls his fingers from her and stands up. She reaches into her side-table drawer for a condom and hands it to him.

“It’s so big.” She says to him as he rolls the condom on.

“Don’t worry, we’ll make it fit.” He knees back onto the bed and knocks her legs back open. He lines himself up with her and pushes inside. “Jesus.” He clutches at the pillow by her head. “Sucked me right in, but you’re still so tight.” He pulls out and pushes right back in. “You good?”

“Yeah, please, just…fuck me.”

He gets a steady rhythm going for them. He wants to get a feel for her body before doing anything fancy. Besides that, he’s really liking the feeling of being chest to chest with her. He sits up slightly to grope at her breasts. He sucks one of her nipples into his mouth and groans. He wants to touch and kiss her all over. He sits up all the way and puts of her legs over his shoulder, moving her slightly so she’s on her side.

“Oh my god!” Her mouth falls open. “S-so deep. Oh my fucking god.” She starts panting, feeling like she can’t even breathe. This position is incredible.

They shift until she’s on her belly, and he’s fully on top of her fucking her from behind. He snakes an arm between her and the mattress. They’re grinding together in perfect sync, moving their hips in slow circles. Her breathing evens out, and he gives her hip a squeeze. He drags his fingers to her ass and rubs her between her cheeks.

“Is this okay?” He asks her. “Can I play with it a little?”

“Yes.” She nods.

He rubs her clit at the same time with his other hand, and she tightens up the second his finger starts to circle around her other hole.

“Need you to relax for me, Peach.” He nibbles on her ear as she tries to calm herself. “That’s good, just breathe.”

She moans out as she starts to feel completely overstimulated. Her clit is throbbing, her pussy is pulsating around his cock, and his other hole is taking his finger in with ease. It’s all too much, and it’s all so good.

“I’m gonna come again.” She shoves her face into her duvet as cries out into it. Harry doesn’t let up one bit, elongating all of the sensations. She can’t stop moaning and crying. He pulls out of her and lays on his back. She immediately shifts to straddle him, sinking down until she’s completely full of him. Her nails rake down his chest. “It’s really annoying that you feel this good.”

“Still think I’m a virgin?” He smirks, gripping her hips to move her along with his thrusts.

“N-no.” She grabs at her own breasts and lets her head roll back. “You can get a lot of experience by just fucking one person.”

“You’re a brat.” He swats at her ass as he chuckles. “Normally I don’t like, but right now it’s really doing something for me.” He sits up and smiles at her. “Keep your wrists behind your back and fuck yourself on me.” She nods and uses her knees to help herself move up and down on him. She switches between that and grinding down on him in circles. His hands come up to grope at her breasts, loving the way they feel in his hands. She tightens around him and starts moving faster. “Fuck, that’s it. Fuck me, god, just fuck me.”

“Oohhh my god.” There’s sweat rolling down her spine, and she can’t help but wrap her arms around him as she comes around him again, kissing him with everything she’s got.

He moves them so he’s back on top of her, hooking an arm under her knee, and fucking into her deeper than he has all night. His free hand wraps around her throat, gently squeezing and applying the perfect amount of pressure.

“Okay?” He asks her, letting up to make sure she can answer.

“Yes.”

Her hand comes down between them to take care of her clit, making him nearly lose it right then and there. He loves it when a woman just takes what she wants to get what she needs.

“I want you to keep your eyes open and on me.” He tells her. “Can you do that?”

“Yes.” She says to the best of her ability.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful. I wish you could see how you look right now.”

“Harry.”

“Aww, are you gonna come again?” He pouts mockingly at her, and she nods. He nods along with her, still pouting. “You’re gonna come with me, so hold on.”

“Please, I…it feels so good. You feel so good.” Her free hand comes up to his shoulder, sinking her nails into his skin.

“It must piss you off that I’m making you feel this good.”

“You have no idea.” She says through gritted teeth.

Harry grins, and comes down to kiss her. He moans into her mouth as he starts to let go. His orgasm is right at the base of spine, and he’s ready to spill. She moans louder from hearing moan loudly. The room fills with the sounds of their sex, and they both fully submit to each other. He continues with slow thrusts as he drops her legs. His hands cup her jaw as they kiss each other without any precision, they both just need to do something with their mouths. Her hands squeeze at his hips and ass. His skin feels so good on hers.

After a few tender moments, Harry gets up and makes his way into her bathroom to clean himself up. Her head is reeling. What the fuck did she just do?! Did she seriously just sleep with her coworker whose guts she hates?

He comes out of the bathroom, letting the light from that guide him to find his clothes. He glances at her a few times, his chest is flushed and his forehead is damp. She sits up slightly, covering herself with her sheets. She’s overthinking everything. All of this is insane.

And there he was, looking at her with the smuggest look she’s ever seen. He’s tucking his shirt back into his pants, fastening the button and zipper, and looking up at her with rosy cheeks and closed-mouth grin. When all she does is look at him stoically, he chuckles softly, shakes his head, and finishes getting dressed. He leans in to leave a peck to her forehead before departing.

“Harry.” She calls to him, making him turn to look at her. “This was a one-time thing.”

“Whatever you say, Peach.”

And then he’s gone.

#harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles y/n #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #harry styles angst #enemies to lovers #harry styles

[kelp-dreaming]

Talk Too Much

pairing: Kendall Roy x F!Reader

summary: You have a habit of rambling too much, Kendall finds a way to fix that.

genre: fluff!!!

word count: 1.3k

tags/warnings: swearing, that’s about it this time! 

a/n: based off the song “Talk Too Much” by COIN. Wrote this for a friend, probably not super show accurate since I haven’t watched it yet (i know i know) 

You never really knew when to shut up. You’ve always been a talker; a nervous talker, an excited rambler, an angry babbler, the list could go on. And typically people like the Roy’s did not like being interrupted, but somehow they decided you were alright. At least Kendall, your boss, (not that he ever really acted like it) let it slide. 

You sat fidgeting with your dress, pinching and plucking at all the folds in the fabric. 

“Oh this always happens with this type of fabric,” you pouted, smoothing your manicured nails against your waist. One thing that was always a perk to being forced into these stupid things was that Kendall spared no expense to make sure you looked the part. What part? Who knows at this point. 

Your relationship with Kendall Roy was… unconventional, to say the least. Technically, you were hired as some kind of PR manager when shit hit the fan with him, which seemed to happen every twelve seconds. But that title was quickly forgotten and honestly, you just kind of became a paid personal assistant slash arm candy. Which, to be frank, was a lot more difficult than one would think. 

But here you were, shifting back and forth against the luxurious leather seats and making sure you weren’t going to accidentally flash anyone as you stepped out. 

You continue to ramble, “--It’s just like, why does satin feel so nice, but also makes me feel like I’m a stuffed sausage. It’s really insane to think about the the ways women are–”

“Jesus,” Kendall finally groans, running his hands over his face, he turns and addresses you, “listen, you look great. Please, for the love of God, shut up for like 10 minutes.” 

Heat rises immediately in your cheeks, tinging your nose and tip of your ears with pink. You wring your hands together, rings clicking against each other. Your voice is soft, “I’m sorry.” 

You’re staring down at your knees, one exposed because of the slit that goes up the side of your dress, when you see Kendall’s hand grip your bare knee lightly, giving it a light squeeze. A bolt of electricity flies up your spine, and you do everything in your power to stop your body from breaking out into goosebumps, to no avail.

“Hey,” Kendall presses, trying to get you to look at him, “it’s alright, just– just relax.” 

You blink at him. He’s trying to comfort you. He’s never really been good at it, but the effort is enough to ease some of your nerves. You offer him a soft smile. His hand lingers on your skin, and you swear you can feel his thumb begin to rub small circles against your skin. But before you can know for sure, the car comes to a halt, signaling that you were at your destination. When he removes his hand, you suddenly feel very, very cold. 

“Well,” he sighs, “let’s get this fucking over with.” Looking back at you, he adds, a playful smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth, “If we do this right, we can probably get out of here in an hour.” 

He exits the limo, reaching back inside for your hand, which you eagerly take. You slide across and out of the limo, Kendall taking extra care to stand in front of you as you exit so that no paparazzi can get a “money shot” up your skirt. You smile up at him. 

“When did you become a gentleman?” You challenge, snaking your hand around his elbow. 

Kendall just offers you a small shrug, his face stony. It normally is when he’s around the press, so you’ve learned not to take it too personally. Expertly, Kendall is able to navigate you both through the crowd and into the gala. 

You’re immediately bombarded with loud music and lights. Oh, it’s one of those galas. Your grip on Kendall tightens as you enter the room. He brings his other hand over yours, giving it another reassuring squeeze. 

He leans his lips to your ear, “One hour, I promise.” Before he pries your hand off of him. You don’t mean to, but you pout. You pout. Like a silly fucking school-kid. 

“What am I supposed to do? What if I get lost? What if I get drugged here, Ken? What if you can’t find me and then you leave without–” 

He cuts you off by saying your name, his hands gripping your shoulders. Another round of goosebumps, as if this couldn’t get more embarrassing. 

“You’re fine, go grab a drink, shmooze, or– I dunno, sit in a fucking corner. But I will not leave you. I’ll find you, okay?” 

You bite your lower lip nervously, but after a moment you give him a nod. He releases you and disappears into the crowd. Letting out a shaky breath, and smoothing your clammy hands over your curves, you make your way over to the open bar. 

And that’s where you stay for nearly an hour. Scrolling on your phone, sipping your third Dirty Martini, when you feel a familiar presence. Looking up you see Kendall making his way toward you. He looks… relaxed. A very rare sight to see, especially lately. When he meets you at the bar, you can’t help but flash him a bright smile, relief washing over you. 

“Have you been here this whole time?” Kendall asks, before ordering himself a club soda. 

“Mhm,” you respond sipping at the liquor, suddenly feeling very nervous about drinking around him. 

“You can drink,” he reassured, as if he could hear your thoughts, “I don’t mind.” 

“Are you sure? I can dump it, or–or–” 

Kendall puts his fingers over your lips, silencing you. You’re not quite sure what has gotten into him, he’s rarely as handsy as he’s been all night. Not that you're complaining, you’ve been lost in his deep eyes since day one. 

“You’re doing it again,” Kendall retorts, “You’d think that a drink would–” 

“Three,” You corrected. 

He raises his brows, “well then especially after three drinks, you’d be a bit less…” he gestures at you, “this.” 

You stiffen. “What do you mean?” Your eyes prick with tears. “I-I can go– I’m sorry.” 

“No, no, no,” Kendall rushes to reach for you. He lets out a huff of a laugh, “There’s nothing wrong. You just… you talk a shit ton.” 

“You’ve known this for how long at this point, Ken? I can’t help it, I just don’t know how to tone it down. I know it’s obnoxious, I know it’s annoying and that I’m not being paid to talk your ear off all the time. I just get so pent up. And now I’m rambling again and– God– I just don’t know how to stop it–” 

As you continue to ramble, your hands now in on the conversation as you speak animatedly, Kendall sets down his club soda in a matter-of-fact kind of way, a determined nod as he does so. He turns to you, nodding along with your babbling before placing his warm hands on your cheeks and pulling your mouth to his. 

Eyes wide, you freeze, before your eyes flutter shut and you melt into the kiss. His lips are soft, softer than you’d imagined. There’s a type of reverence to the kiss, as he cradles your face in his hands. It feels like it’s something you both had wanted to do for so long. 

What feels like too soon, he pulls away. His eyes search yours, hands still cupping your now incredibly flushed cheeks. You can see the ways his eyes crinkle with a small smile. 

“Hey,” Kendall finally breaks the silence. 

“Hi,” you breathe out. 

“You okay?” 

You can only respond with a nod. Too shocked to speak, which is a first. 

“If I knew kissing you would shut you up for a fucking second, I would’ve done this more often.” He chuckles, before slinging an arm around your shoulder, pressing a soft kiss on your temple. 

#succession #kendall roy #kendall roy x reader #kendall roy x you #succession fanfic #kendall roy fanfic

[voxaholic]

Character Info For My Bojack Inspired Human Au

Hollywood Losers Au

Val & Vox

-Hollywood’s messiest on and off couple of just about 20 years

-extremely codependent: Val makes messes, Vox cleans them up, that’s how they work

-Vox has a shit ton of spyware on all Val’s phones and a tracker on his car and it’s only partially out of insane possessiveness. Vox’s creepy bullshit has saved Val’s life on occasion 

-“Did you hide my fucking guns, Vox?” “Yes! And the fact that you’re even looking for them right now means I’m really glad I did!”

-Met on a set when Vox was still an actor and have been making each other miserable ever sense

-Gossip rags love them. Every piece of info about them is insane

-There are at least three twitter accounts keeping track of whether they are on or off again

-Neither of them would classify the relationship as abusive but from the outside observer, it definitely is

-Val is under the assumption that Vox is happy with their status quo and Vox is, until he isn’t 

-Velvette thinks one of them is going to end up killing the other eventually 

-they get into a lot of very physical fights. Vox usually comes out worse for wear

-see when a person with a disorganized attachment style and someone with an anxious attachment style get into a situationship…

Val

-43 but still lives and dresses like he’s in his early 20s

-semi washed-up actor that got his start on some sort of law and order-esque tv show

-has bleached and dyed his poor hair far beyond repair but it is still hanging in there somehow

-has had six PR managers quit on him over the last year and a half alone

-personal life goal is to do every drug once

-trying to fill the hole in his heart with hedonism. he thinks it’s working (it is not)

-self identified queer icon

-lots and lots of shallow acquaintances/fuck buddies, very few people he would consider close

-interested in the concept of a pet but every pet he’s ever had has either died of neglect or been taken in by Vox

-outward narcissism hides a deep yawning insecurity that he’s not even fully aware of

-self sabotages a lot

-likes to be taken care of and babied but only by Vox

-retweets his own callout posts on twitter (Vox deletes the retweets but screenshots exist)

-afraid of committing himself to anything

Vox

-45 and dresses like it

-greying early (he says it’s because of Val and Val thinks he’s joking. he isn’t)

-officially Val’s agent but also unofficially, his pr manager because every actual hired PR manager keeps quitting 

-a fake bitch who doesn’t give a shit about 99% of people

-unfortunately once he starts giving a shit about someone he can’t really stop giving a shit

-has run several financial scams

-has done so much white collar crime

-gotten Val off for so much shit, like really, so much fucking shit

-briefly a child actor. it ended badly 

-apathetic about most things outside of work but fakes it well enough 

-always has like 18 different side projects going

-wants to marry Val to finally get some sense of stability in their relationship

-a control freak who needs to know what Val is up to 24/7

-the one who cooks in the relationship. he’s not good at it and Val complains constantly about how bland his food is but he still eats it

-has a blue pitbull puppy named Vark who he loves like a son

-he’s THAT type of dog dad

#Hazbin hotel au #staticmoth #valvox #voxval #hazbin hotel #this will be a fic eventually #human au

[ladykailitha]

Star Child Part 9

Hello!! We find out the name of Eddie’s roadie that spotted the problem at the bar in Part 6. We delve into Steve’s problems a bit. And we meet Steve’s badass lawyer.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8

***

Steve woke up at 6am like he always did. He knew that he wouldn’t be hearing from any of the Corroded Coffin boys until later in the morning but he was anxious to be doing something, anything. So he messaged Lucas that he was going to go for a run and hopped into the shower.

He was pleasantly surprised to see the man dressed for running in shorts and a tank top. Steve nodded appreciatively.

“Just a heads up,” he said, setting his smart watch for the run, “I’ve had a really anxious last couple of days and I tend to run harder to combat that.”

Lucas half shrugged. “I’m game for whatever you’ve got, man. I assure you.”

Steve laughed and started stretching. Lucas did the same and once they were fully stretched, they started off. Steve began slow and ramped up, faster and faster until they had hit a full on sprint.

They arrived back at the house, panting and sweating up a storm.

“Damn,” Lucas huffed, hands on his knees and head hung between his shoulders. “You weren’t kidding about that run. Shit.”

Steve laughed. “I haven’t had someone keep up with me before.”

Lucas stood up and put his hands on his back. “I used to play basketball in high school and college. Until I hurt my knee pretty bad.”

“Made it so you were unable to play?” Steve asked, leading them into the house for water and the AC.

“Actually,” Lucas said, taking the water bottle from Steve, “I fully recovered, but it was the team that had moved on. That’s when I realized it would be the same if I got in the NBA. I’d be traded around like a bad birthday present instead being treated like a person and went fuck that shit.”

Steve nodded and hopped up on the counter. “I used to play sports before I got into the whole singing thing. Originally my dad had me playing three sports to triple my chances of making money off of me. And then realized that he could make more with me as a pop star.”

He opened his bottle of water and took a long drink.

Lucas chugged his all in one gulp before tossing it in the trash. “What sports did you play?”

“Basketball,” Steve said, cocking his head to the side and held out his hand, point to Lucas, “like you. Let’s see...baseball and swimming. Did a couple others like boxing and wrestling in PE, but nothing worth writing home about. But yeah. I made captain of the basketball team and co-captain of the swim. I enjoyed them well enough. But singing, man? That’s it for me. I love it.”

“But you kept it with the sports after you made it big?” Lucas asked.

“Sure,” Steve murmured. “Most hotels have swimming pools and you can always find a place with a couple of hoops for a game or two.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Three fourths of The Kings played on the basketball team in high school, only Jonathan didn’t.”

“My sister was a big fan of The Kings when she was in high school,” Lucas said, leaning against the counter next to Steve and crossing her arms. “Billy was her favorite until she found out he was racist asshole.”

Steve grimaced. “Yeah, that was a PR nightmare, let me tell you.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine,” Lucas agreed. “What are your plans for today?”

“I’m meeting with a top contract lawyer to get my label off my ass,” Steve said, throwing his bottle in the trash can and making it. Lucas raised an impressed eyebrow. “My label is pissed that once this album is done and I go on tour, that’s it. I’m done with them.”

“This the same label that hired security to spy on you?” Lucas asked.

“That’s them,” Steve groused. “My manager made sure the terms were air tight in our favor but they’re trying to wiggle out of it.”

“Bastards.”

Steve shook his head. “You have no idea.”

“What’s the lawyer’s name?” Lucas asked with a tilt of his head.

Steve frowned. “Actually, I don’t recall.” He got up and went to the cork board next to fridge and began scanning for the business card. “Ah ha!” He plucked the card off the board and walked back to Lucas and handed him the card.

“Gillibrand, Farnsworth, and Hayward, Associates at Law,” Steve said. “I’m meeting with Erica Hayward.”

“Yeah...” Lucas said, drawing out the word. “I hope you’re looking for a scorched earth approach to this record label.”

Steve shrugged. “I wouldn’t be opposed. Why? Do you know them or something?”

Lucas winced. “I’d better. Erica Hayward is my little sister.”

*

Steve was relieved when Eddie called from the airport.

“Hey, Eds,” Steve said softly. “Everyone make it out all right?”

“Everything is fine beautiful,” Eddie said. “Chrissy is a certified genius. We actually have two tour buses, one that we keep stored in Evansville in case this one breaks down. So she had the bus haul ass down to Austin and we played a little bit of shell game with Creel’s goons.”

Steve laughed. “That’s fantastic! I was so worried about it, I was about to recommend my security company to you.”

“I thought you were notorious for blowing off your security detail,” Eddie said with a chuckle.

Steve walked out to the swimming pool and sat down on one of the loungers, “Used to. Back when they were spies for my parents and the record label. Got my own company now. They’ve been pretty good so far. Robin wanted someone to watch my back as I drove to LA.”

“And they passed muster, then?” Eddie asked with a fond smile.

“Yeah,” Steve said, laying back on the lounger. “They’re from Indiana, too and not Caifornia but they do have locations all around the country, LA included, of course.”

“Of course,” Eddie said. “But you don’t have to worry on that front, Stevie. My roadies double as security. Trust me when I say no one messes with us when they’re nearby.”

“Okay, Eds,” Steve said. “I hate how Creel tried to come after you guys. You especially.”

“I’ll just sic Mike on him,” Eddie said with laugh. “That bastard is so surly that I’ve seen him stare down a biker gang and win.”

“Yeah?” Steve asked. “He built like a tank or something?”

Eddie laughed again. “No, baby. Mike Wheeler is most definitely not built like a tank.”

Steve sat up in a flash and scrambled to get to his photos on his phone. “Is this him?”

“Why do you have a picture of my roadie on your phone?” Eddie asked, genuinely confused.

“You remember Nancy?” Steve asked. “The ex currently dating my former bandmate Jonanthan Byers.”

“Sure,” Eddie said. “From the Indie Dolls, right?”

Steve hummed in agreement.

“Rumor was,” Eddie continued, “that she didn’t even wait for the bed to get cold before she shacked up with Byers.”

Steve scoffed. “Bitch didn’t even wait for that. She full on cheated on me with Jonathan.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah,” Steve said through gritted teeth. “Mike Wheeler is Nancy Wheeler’s little brother.”

“Fuck.” It was quiet on the line for a moment. “Really?”

“Small world,” Steve said. “He doesn’t like me much, but if he’s your guard dog, I’ll sleep soundly knowing he’s got your back.”

“And I’m glad you’ve got someone watching your back too, sweetheart,” Eddie replied.

Steve looked at his watch and sighed. “I’ve got let you go. I’ve got to get ready for my appointment. Fly safe.”

“Will do, sweet thing,” Eddie said and hung up.

Steve stared at his phone for a moment before he got up and went back in the house.

*

Max was waiting by a black sedan when Steve walked out of his house an hour later. He paused briefly at the bottom step and blinked at the sight. He then shrugged and half jogged to the car.

“Steve,” Max greeted. “We’ll be picking Robin Buckley up and then to your appointment. Lucas gave me the run down of the office and I know where all the exits are.”

Steve nodded and got into the backseat of the car. Max hopped into in the passenger seat. Steve could barely make out the driver.

They got to Robin’s house and she just bounded into the car without missing a beat. She slid into the middle so she could sit next to Steve.

“Now,” Max began once they were both settled, “Steve is my main priority, however I will do whatever it takes to keep you both safe.”

“Roger that!” Robin said with a jaunty salute.

They pulled up in front of a large office building with the names Gillibrand, Farnsworth, and Hayward in neat black letters on the bronze plaque next to the main doors.

Max followed close behind as Robin and Steve walked up to the receptionist’s desk.

“Steve Harrington to see Erica Hayward at 2pm?” Steve said smoothly.

The receptionist typed something on her screen and nodded. “Fifth floor, suite five hundred. Speak to her PA and he’ll let you in.”

“Thank you,” Steve said and tapped the front desk twice.

They walked to the elevator.

Everything about the place screamed opulence and elegance. They exited the elevator and this floor was even more elegant than the ground floor. It was all white marble and brass fittings.

Steve squirmed a little. It reminded him a little much of the home he grew up in. Fancy and faceless.

Robin took his hand and gently pulled him down the hallway to suite 500. She opened the glass door and led the way to the PA’s desk. The office was black marble and mahogany. Steve started tapping his finger against the side of his thigh nervously.

“Two o’clock appointment,” Robin said, “for Steve Harrington.”

The PA nodded. “She’ll be with you in a moment. Her last appointment ran late.”

Steve sat down, but both Robin and Max stood.

“I should have scoped out the place first,” Robin whispered mournfully. “I forgot lawyers like to be intimidating.”

Steve squeezed her hand. “It’s okay, Robs.”

Max cocked her head thoughtfully. “Janice mentioned something about you not being comfortable around opulence and extravagance. I’ve seen her history write-up of you, it’s a little thin on why.”

Robin and Steve shared a glance.

“That’s a story you guys might get if you continue to be awesome,” Robin said. “But it’s way too early for that shit.”

Max frowned. “It really is better to tell your security about all your pitfalls and fears because if you’re afraid of spiders and freak out, our reaction might be a tad elevated for the scenario if you get me.”

Steve made a finger gun and mimicked the sound of gun going off.

“Right in one, pretty boy.”

Robin chewed her bottom lip nervously.

“It’s okay, Robs,” Steve said. “She’s right they need to know.”

Robin threw her hands up in the air. “Fine, I’ll send the file over to Janice.”

Max’s eyes went as wide as saucers. “A file?!”

Steve nodded.  

“Erica’s ready for you,” the PA interrupted.

Steve got up and followed Robin into the office, Max following close behind.

They got into the office and there was the most gorgeous black woman sitting behind a desk that matched the outer office.

She stood up to shake Robin and Steve’s hand before squealing and hugging Max.

“Max!” Erica said. “When is that loggerheaded brother of mine going to put a ring on that finger?”

Max laughed, hugging her back. “The last time he brought it up, I threatened to take out both of his knee caps.”

Erica stepped back and looked at Max appreciatively. “Fair. Speaking of Lucas, why isn’t he here instead of you?”

Max winced. “He was going to.” Erica raised a skeptical eyebrow. “No, really he was. But one of our clients had a break in last night so he was taking care of that until the early hours of the morning. Then he ran with Steve this morning, followed by the debriefing with Janice after about the break in. He barely got to bed an hour before this appointment.”

Steve raised an appreciative eyebrow. 

Erica grimaced. “Ouch. Okay, he’s forgiven this time.” She turned to Steve and Robin. “Please sit. Tell me more about your case.”

Steve sat down and fiddled with the hem of his button down shirt. “This place is very intimidating.”

Erica smiled like a shark. “It’s meant to be.”

Steve shrugged. “If you hadn’t been so highly recommended,” he waved at Max, “and the sister of one of my security detail, I wouldn’t have even walked in. I would have found myself a different lawyer.”

“And you probably would have lost your case,” Erica said returning his shrug.

“Maybe,” Steve said. “But if I don’t feel comfortable with you as a lawyer, how can I trust you to handle my case the way I want it handled?”

Erica frowned appreciatively and nodded. “That’s fair, I suppose. But you have to understand, every single one of the partners at this firm is a black woman that had to claw her way to the top of the food chain. Dismissed, discredited, and disrespected,” she explained, moving to sit down at her desk.

“Patrica Farnsworth is the top attorney in trademarks and copyright law in LA, but because she’s a black woman, she was passed over time and time again for mediocre white men. Ophelia Gillibrand is the top lawyer in town for fair use and transformative works. She even volunteers part of her time to archives for fan fiction. But just like Patrica, overlooked and under paid.”

She sighed. “We are only respected because of how this place looks and is run. But I don’t doubt we’ve lost good clients because of it, too. It’s double-edged sword, but one we have to carry.”

Steve nodded. “You’ve convinced me,” he said with a cheeky smile. “So let me fill you in.”

As Max watched she suddenly knew why they needed to send over a file about Steve’s hangups. Because holy fuck was that some pretty heavy shit he was telling Erica.

Once they were done, Erica rubbed her hands together. “I love cases like these. They’re usually very quick and very brutal. Plus, I think with a couple of days of digging I can get the whole fucking contract thrown out and you can start writing whatever the fuck you want by the end of the week.”

Robin and Steve shared a surprised glance.

“What do you mean?” Robin asked.

“They blackmailed Steve into the contract,” Erica sneered, “holding his past over his head. That’s illegal. And if I’m right, and I usually am, I can get criminal charges brought up against your parents and the label.”

Steve blinked. “Lucas said you would take a scorched earth approach.”

Erica cocked her head smugly. “It’s what I do.”

“Then have at it,” Robin said gleefully. “Carte blanche, money is no object. Have at thee.”

Steve nodded. “Agreed. Take these assholes to school.”

“With pleasure.”

***

Part 10  Part 11  Part 12  Part 13  Part 14 Part 15  Part 16

Tag List:

@bejeweledbaby @eboyawstenn @moonshadows-13 @ohlook-afrog @goodolefashionedloverboi @linkydinky06 @livelaughlexa @spectrum-spectre @cutepumpkin4 @whatthemeepever @gleek4twd @anything-thats-rock-and-roll @novelnovella @celtrose-ish @artiststarme @plasticcrotches  @failedstarsandgoldenclouds @anaibis @nelotegreitic @steddieassheg0es @abstractnaturaldisaster @scheodingers-muppet @tiny-enthusiast @yes-im-your-mom @thegingerrapunzel @milf-harrington @avacrebs @gregre369 @raisedbylibrarians @reverseteehee @lillys-weird-world @deadlydodos @runyousillydetective @justrandomfandomstm @piebook67 @clumsywriter @donttouchmycarrots @fiore-della-valle @idkareallyreallygoodname  @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @ravenpainter @ellietheasexylibrarian @maya-custodios-dionach @child-of-cthulhu @estrellami-1 @nerdsconquerall @space-invading-pigeon

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #rockstar au #song fic #ladykailtiha writes

[imogenleewriter]

You, Me, (and everyone we know)

You, Me, (and everyone we know)

Imogenlee

WIP 25/? WC: 159,400

Rockstar Harry Styles has been making headlines since he was barely legal. After a string of bad decisions, PR nightmares, and an obvious inability to take anything seriously, management and his other band members insist he needs a full-time, live-in personal assistant. After hiring and firing half of the executive PA's in the city, the boys stumble across one that might be able to put up with Harry's shit.

Applicant:

Name: Louis Tomlinson.

Qualifications: None.

Experience: Two weeks.

Why did you leave your last job: Boss was a wanker.

Past Employer Referee: Absolutely not.

What made you apply: I didn't. Why the fuck are you idiots making me fill this form out after you forced me to take the job?

#larry stylison fanfiction #larryfiction #larry stylinson #ao3 feed larry #larry fic #ao3 harry styles/louis tomilson #fanfic #larry fanfiction #hlcreators #ficsfor4am #tracksintheam #trackinghome #trackinghappily #larry ao3 #larry stylinson fic rec #allwaswell16 #1dficvillage #1dsource #alwaysxlarrie #hlficlibrary #yourlarrysource #hlsource #hljournal #thelarriefics #hltracks

[hlficlibrary]

hello !! do you have any enemies to lovers where one of them gets flirty when they’re fighting?? 👀

Hi, anon! Here are some fics that I think fit what you're looking for! (I've done a similar rec here, but these are 3 different ones)

with venom on your tongue by wildestdreams / @thelavendrhaze

While Louis had to try so hard to stay focused and be the best, Harry somehow did the same things with ease and confidence. He hated how Harry glided through life, carrying happiness on his shoulders like it was nothing when it was arduous for Louis. His carefree demeanor made Louis feel crazy.

But that feeling just motivated him to always keep his eyes on the prize. Number one in the class rankings every year and the valedictorian spot the next year when they graduated. He was so close he could taste it. And if the only thing in his way was Harry Styles, then Louis was willing to up the stakes to figure out what made him weak just to beat him.

“Whatever,” Louis eventually said to Liam. “He’s a fucking cliche.”

or a boarding school AU where Harry and Louis are academic rivals until they realize they’re more similar than they thought.

Nothing But You On My Mind by nonsensedarling / @absoloutenonsense

Louis Tomlinson is a PR manager hired to improve the image of royal bad-boy Prince Harry Styles. Unfortunately for him, that means being faced with the Prince's constant innuendos, incessant dirty jokes, and relentless flirting. Louis just wants to make it to Princess Gemma's coronation; once she's crowned Queen, his contract is up and he never has to see the Prince again.

That's How I Know by @allwaswell16

Louis Tomlinson has just landed his dream job, coaching soccer at Augustus University. When he moves into a new house near campus, he meets his very fit new neighbor, English professor Harry Styles. Although their first meeting leads to an instant mutual dislike, the more Harry gets to know Louis, the more he likes what he sees.

Or the one where Harry’s African grey parrot spills his dirty secrets to his very hot neighbor.

#ask #anon #ficrec #minificrecs #enemiestolovers #nonsensedarling #wildestdreams #allwaswell16

[shutit-haha]

Bakugou X reader from PR

This is VERY self indulgent and I'm puertorican so readers gonna have to be puertorican too. Might make this into a series, or at the least a longer piece. Let me know what you guys think. Sorry the ending is like non-existant.

Bakugou wasn't sure as to how he fell in love with you. Well actually he was. You were so independent. Spoke three different languages; English, Spanish and Japanese. And you are currently working on learning a fourth. You bought yourself a ring as a commitment to yourself. And you had your own big office in your own big business.

"I'm sorry why are you here again?" You were reading something from where you sat behind your desk. Your Japanese was perfect, the kind of accent he hears when at home.

"You scheduled the meeting," he growled, biting back an insult. You seemed so serious and yet in comparison to him still so small. Then again the man had a growthsport that turned him into a mountain.

"Oh," you laughed then. Your eyes crinkled in the corners hair falling back with the way you tossed your head. "That was probably a drunk buy one of my friends made. They're not from here so... and the coquito was stronger than we thought it would me." Your smile then fell, "I'm not paying for this am I?"

"You haven't hired me yet," he growled out again. His voice was harsher this time, the veins in his neck bulging from the strain of his venom.

Bakugou knows exactly how he fell in love with you. What he didn't know was how he stayed in love with you.

You didn't wake up at 5 in the morning like he did, or at least like how he thought you did too. No you slept in to damn near 1 in the afternoon and blamed in on whatever the fuck P.O.C time is. You started your morning with a shower and a skin routine. You'd stare at yourself in the mirror whole naked- which he did too but the way you did was...weird.

"What chu doing?" He was just as naked as you were hands hovering over your hips, breath fanning your neck.

"Shh," you shushed him softly. Your eyes were shut as you took a deep breath in. "I am beautiful. I am the epitome of beauty. Beauty is not a competition. You are not simply better than me because of how you look, nor am I better than you."

"Affirmations?"

"For the insecurity demons creep in during the night." You turn around to kiss him, arms wrapping loosely around his neck. Finally he grips roughly at your hips, teeth diving straight for your neck. "Insecirity always creeps in during the night, so I like to kick it out in the morning."

"You gonna be productive today?"

You shrugged. Turns out you weren't as driven as he believed you to be. You sat at your breakfast bar with a Journal and a cute pen. Your silk robe was wrapped around you, and your legs were crossed. Your feet didn't reach the floor so your slippers fell off, your barefeet were smooth and nails painted. He had no idea how you managed to be so flawless.

"Breakfast," he grunted. Bakugou (you figured out) was nosy. "What chu you doing now?" He leaned his head forward a little so he could read it.

"Thoughts, dream, aspirations, inspirations." You preferred him being a chismosa rather than machismo.

He didn't understand your worry or stress sure but that's because he was born here, in Japan. "Explain it to me again."

"I can't travel with you. I have to live here ten years consistently in order to file for citizenship."

"You're not-" He didn't want to finish that. He worried it might make him sound...you know.

"Visa," you grunt trying to bulldoze your way past the subject. It made you anxious and you didn't like it one bit. Not someone as confident and sure as you are.

"I'll just marry you."

"Not really how that works chuelo, but I appreciate you trying." You give him a lopsided smile.

"How the hell does it work then?"

"Can we not right now mi amor?"

He stares at you before sitting down with a huff. "Fine," when he replies one of his canines catching in the light.

"Thank you," you tuck away your hair.

#x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha #domestic fluff #headcanon #puerto rican #spanglish #interracial couple #miss independent #katsuki bakugo x you

[chaifootsteps]

Your post got 1.7M views???

Fuck yes dude

I'm sorry the stans are coming after you with their bullshit takes, but they do that with everyone who is even slightly critical of Viv and her shows.

I'm so glad this has played out the way it has

If HH released during the summer I think there'd be way more copium going around and people would take a long time to see that the show sucks/is going to suck. It'd be hailed as a "masterpiece" I'm sure.

TADC also overshadowed both her shows and Viv is getting desperate by posting those "music videos" to stay relevant.

People are ripping into Viv with that Twitter trend and now those screenshots are getting widely seen.

I hope she never hires a PR manager. I want her to burst into flames, unable to hold back her rage and tantrums she's inevitably going to throw.

Crazy how things sometimes just work out like they should, isn't it?

It's serendipity.

#Anonymous #vivziepop critical #actual blog post #image reply

[fenixfoxtrot510]

Bless the Hiring and PR Managers of both Heroes and Villains.

-Villain's Lair-

"Trash man, was it? We're sorry but we don't have any positions open suited to your.... unique expertise.... The heros are hiring new side kicks though. You can try them."

"BUT I DON'T WANT TO BE A STINKIN HERO! I WANT TO RAIN GARBAGE AND DESTRUCTION DOWN UPON EVERYONE!"

"DON'T YOU DARE THROW THAT TRASHCAN AT ME!"

"SOON EVERYONE WILL FEEL MY WRATH!!"

"SECURITY!!!"

-Down The Hall-

"I'm sorry? You destroyed WHAT!!!"

"I accidentally destroyed a park with my death ray."

"FOR FUCKS SAKE MAN!!!"

"It was an accident!!"

"Like the nursing home was?!"

"I TOLD YOU I DIDN'T KNOW THERE WAS A NURSING HOME THERE!"

"THIS IS WHY YOU LOOK AT THE FUCKING MARKED GOOGLE MAP THAT YOUR P.A. PRINTS OUT AND GIVES YOU EVERYTIME YOU PLOT, INSTEAD OF JUST LOOKING AT THE MAP ON YOUR PHONE! THEY MARK THAT SHIT SO YOU CAN AVOID IT!! MOTHER OF FUCK!!!"

-Hero's Sanctum-

"And you are applying for a sidekick position?"

"Yes!"

"And you control deadly snakes?"

"Yes ma'am! Though they aren't real snakes! That'd be animal endangerment! They're made with magic!"

"Have you thought about being a protégé for a villain at all?"

"No? Why would I?"

"It's just.... With your skill set, it'd be very difficult to break into the world of heroics. Now, I'm not saying you can never be a hero. Just that people with your kind of powers usually have an easier time if they start out as villains with a heart of gold then later transition into being a hero after a redemption arc where you win the friendship of other heros by helping them save the world."

"That all seems very convoluted and complicated."

"Oh it is but it will get you in the heroics business after 1 or 2 seasons guaranteed. Where as trying to start in heroics will only scare the public into hating you and they will drive you to the side of evil with the only out being redemption through death."

".... I guess I'll think about it. Maybe take your suggestion. I got to talk with my mom first and see what she thinks. I do really want to be a hero though!"

"Then I hope to see you again in a year or two! Here's a card for a reputable villain that most starting heros work with. That way you can make friends with other new heros your age and fit in faster as opposed to trying to establish yourself with an older group of heroes that would only treat you like a kid forever."

"Thank you!"

-Down the Hall-

"YOU LET HIM DESTROY A PARK?!"

"I DIDN'T KNOW IT WAS THERE WHEN I DODGED THE DEATH RAY!!"

"OH THAT IS FUCKING IT!! THE NURSING HOME WAS ONE THING! WHAT WITH IT'S ASBESTOS AND LEAD THAT CITY HALL KNEW AND DID NOTHING ABOUT!! BUT WE ARE ABSOLUTELY GETTING YOU AN APPOINTMENT TO AN EYE DOCTOR AFTER I FINISH DEALING WITH THIS!!!"

"BUT I LOOK TERRIBLE IN GLASSES!!"

"TOO BAD!!!!"

#heros and villains #my writing