#im hoping to god that i caught all the spelling errors but i jsut know the moment i post i'll find the stragglers

[pettyprocrastination]

Extra Whipped Cream

Pairing: Porn Star!Dieter Bravo x Reader 

Chapters: 1/

Content warning: curses, slight sexual themes but no actual smut (yet). 

Summary: Dieter finally sees you. You finally meet your shame face to face. 

Word count: 2k Authors note: Holy SHIT I did not expect the first part of this fic to be so well received!!!! Thank you all so much!!!! It truly means the world to me and all the sweet messages and comments you all left is what gave me the energy to continue writing for our sweet sweet slutty man. And yes. there will be more. 

Special thank you @madhyanas​ for constantly doing edits and seeing my random (this sentence. yes no?) and all of my lovely mutuals who listened to me ramble about this silly thing. 

Tag list will be done in the reblog

Dieter couldn’t stop thinking about you. 

It was silly. Embarrassing, really. 

I mean, what could he call it? This giddy feeling he got in his chest when he strode into the cafe, damn near everyday for the past two weeks in hopes of seeing you. 

What was it? A crush? He hardly knew you. 

All he knew was your name from the tag on your apron. That you made his coffee perfect (because when the other barista did it, it still wasn’t sweet enough) and that you watched his porn. 

And you were pretty. 

Fuck, you were so pretty. 

So much so that he found himself floundering like an idiot when he first met you. Stammering and fumbling with his money all because you were looking at him and his palms started sweating and he felt like a fucking highschooler again. 

But you knew him. Or, his work, at least. To the point where you blurted out his name with such a chipper, albeit, rehearsed smile his heart stopped. 

Now he’ll be honest, it stuck with him. Hell, for the rest of the day you were all he could think about. The pretty little barista who watched his dirty videos in secret. His thoughts ran rampant. 

Did you watch them at night, hands sliding under the covers and volume low so nobody heard you? Did you imagine yourself there? Being touched by him? Being fucked by him?

What was your favorite?

Would you want him like that? Hard and fast? Or soft? Would you wind your hands in his hair and whimper his name? Would you leave hickies on his neck? Would you let him kiss you? Would you smile and giggle against his mouth as he holds you against him? “Mrow.”

Dieter pulled himself away from preening in the mirror to look back at the cat who was staring at him from atop his pillow. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” He looked at his reflection one final time, fussing with his hair before turning and fixing his shirt just in case he saw you. “Your dad is going crazy.”

The other baristas were beginning to know him by name, a sad little irony given that he came damn near everyday in hopes to see you. But he never asked them about you, or hung around in case you came in. God no, that was invasive. He would just take his coffee with a smile and then go on with the rest of the day with you tucked in the back of his brain. 

Was it the healthiest option? No. He had a fudge brownie every day for the past week because of it and he was starting to worry about his impending dental bill from it. 

“Have a good day, Dexter!” 

How funny it was, the little sting of disappointment that weighed in his chest upon hearing his real name. How he wished it was his stage name, the name built from sex and money over the years, passing from your lips. He wanted to hear it again. And again. And again-

Dieter blinks. 

“Sir… are you alright?” The barista was looking at him strangely. Somebody coughed behind him. 

Fuck. He was still in line. Staring off into space like a fucking moron. 

Nice going, dickhead. 

“Yeah I’m… I’m fine. Sorry. I’ll just- go.” 

He quickly turned, mumbling a rushed apology to the person waiting behind him. 

Dieter opened the cafe door with one hand and brought the frappuccino up to his mouth in the other. 

He recoiled and pulled the drink away, glowering at it with poorly hidden disgust. 

Bitter. Why was it always bitter when they made it? Why was it only sweet from you? 

Another day, another missed encounter. Dieter took another sip and sighed.  Maybe he should look into getting a Tinder account.

Just as he reached his car, ring-clad fingers grazing the handle, an angry voice sailed through the air. 

“Come on, come on, you stupid fucking car, just unlock! God fucking shit-” 

As sure as the day was long, there you were. Fighting with the door of your car and spewing profanities. 

Parked right next to him. 

He cleared his throat and you whirled around, eyes wide as if you had been caught stealing. 

A moment passed. You both stared at each other. 

You waved. “Uh. Hi.” Shockingly enough, he seemed to be just as tongue tied as you were. 

“Hey.”

It was almost jarring to him. To see you without our apron, despite how often he had painted the picture in his mind. Because now it was real. You were real. Your mussed hair, mouth open in shock and chest heaving, eyes wide and frantic, staring at him like a deer caught in headlights. 

He takes a step back and realizes that he was a man staring down a woman in a parking lot. Alone. 

Dieter frowned. Fuck. He had been so caught up in his own feelings, he didn’t think about how uncomfortable this must have been for you. 

“Listen, if I'm overstepping—”

“I’m so sorry for embarrassing you the other day!”

“What?”

———-

You just missed  Dexter- Dieter- fuck, him- by the skin of your teeth. Your shift had just ended and you were tugging on your jacket in the parking lot when you turned and saw him inside. 

You were in the clear. Safe. Now all you had to do was get your ass in the car and go home and you would avoid yet another instance of embarrassing yourself in front of the porn star. 

But instead, you stood there. You stood and watched him. Yes, watched, like some voyeuristic pervert as he steps into the already winding line of customers inside. 

You could leave. You should leave. But there’s a moment where he looks around, peering over a patron's shoulder to see the front counter and a flash of disappointment when he sees who's working. 

Was he looking for you? Had he gone in to see you?

He was dressed nice. The hoodie with fraying strings was replaced by a button up with an expressive pattern. When he reached up to scratch at his face, his rings glinted against the sun. 

You knew you needed to stop staring. As he ordered his coffee, bobbed his head to the music playing. This was weird. Inappropriate. If you didn't move now then he may see you. 

But what’s a few more seconds?

A few more seconds turn into two minutes. Two minutes turn into three and oh god the door is opening and he’s leaving. 

You turn on your heel, sneakers slapping against the concrete and skidding to a stop in front of your car. Your hand grabs the handle and pulls but the door stays shut. 

“Oh no no no no don’t do this not now—” A frantic stream of curses and pleas fly from your lips as you fight with the car door and tragically remember you had been putting your inspection off for about two months now when—

Dieter clears his throat from behind you, nearly scaring you right out of your skin. Slowly, you turn to face him. 

You thought he looked good from far away. Now he was fucking hypnotic. The silk shirt was open, buttoned so low that a wide expanse of his chest was bare for you to see. Except bare wasn’t an apt description, given the curled chest hair that covered the exposed skin. A gold chain hung from his neck and your face grew hot when you realized you’ve seen him wearing it before. Swinging against his chest as his grips somebody’s hips with harsh growls of “fucking take it” fill your mind until it hits you that you’re staring at him without saying a single word. 

You raise a hand. 

“Uh. Hi.” 

Dieter grins and raises his hand back. “Hey.” 

You swallow. 

Christ on a cross, don’t just stand there. say something. 

say something. You both speak. 

“Listen if I’m overstepping—” “I'm sorry for embarrassing you!” 

Dieter stops, then looks at you as if you had grown a second head. “What?” “When you came in and I said your… your porn name.” Your voice became a hushed whisper on the word and he bit back a smile. “I mean I completely outed you to an entire building of people! You must have been humiliated and it's my fault.” He sets a hand on his hip. “So you think my job is something to be embarrassed of?” “No! Of course not!” you raise an octave in panic. “I mean it's good work, great work even!” “Is it now?” 

You realize your admittance and draw your shoulders in, only to perk back up at the sound of his laughter. 

“I’m just fucking with you.” He confesses. “It's no worry, really.” “Ah, right. I’m sure you're used to getting looks like that all the time.” He bites his tongue and you see a flash of silver in his mouth. A rush of heat settles low in your stomach and you shift under his gaze. 

 “Not the way you looked at me.” He was trying to kill you. 

Dieter sighs, and pulls at his hair. “Honestly? I should be thanking you.” 

“Thanking me?” You snort. “For what? Letting my coworkers know my porn preferences?” 

He laughs. Smooth and deep and real in a way you never thought of him before. 

“No actually.” He looks up and for a moment you see a flicker of nerves in his brown eyes. “For reminding this old man that he’s still got it.” 

You speak before realizing it. He has that effect, oddly enough. A combination of jittering nerves that sets you on fire while also simmering into a feeling of… safety? No— comfort. 

“Old is not the word that comes to mind for you.”

If this were fake, Dieter would have moved to you. A scene in a raunchy film with a script that was still laying in his room, filmed under soft lights with a crew standing just a few feet away. He would saunter over until his nose grazed your neck and you shuddered against him. He’d coo in your ear and settle his hands on your hips. “Oh yeah?” His hips would grind against yours and you would mewl. “Why don’t you tell me what came to mind, pretty girl?” 

If this were fake, he would be bold. Sexual. Strong. All the things Dieter was. 

But this wasn’t porn. This was real life. 

Dieter wasn’t real. Dexter was. 

“I’ll, uh—” His finger taps frantically against his thigh. “I’ll get out of your hair.” 

He turns and you hear him mumble “fucking stupid” to himself before you call out to him. “You gonna be a regular now?” 

Dexter stops and looks at you over his shoulder. He tries not to smile, he really does. But something about you just makes him so damn giddy. 

“Would you be okay with that?” “I think I just might.” He nods. “You’ll be seeing more of me then.” You didn’t mean for it to come out, really. You just spoke without thinking, a common issue when you found yourself around him.

“I already have.” He doesn’t tease you for it. Thank God. He simply chuckles and turns with his drink raised in a salute of goodbye and a skip in his step. 

For the rest of the day, he’s all you think of. His smile and his voice and the way he tilts his head with that grin that teeters right on the edge of being condescending in a way that makes you feel warm all over. You also think of his laugh, the way he taps out a rhythm on his leg when he gets nervous and how he seemed so excited to see you. 

Dieter. 

Dexter. 

The names swirl in your head until they intertwine and you can’t pull them apart. You feel hot, legs twitching in traffic on the drive home. 

Dieter. 

Dexter. 

Fuck. 

When you get home, your clothes are shucked off and tossed into a corner of your room until all you're left in are panties and slip into bed. You don’t bother reaching for your phone. You don’t need it, not this time. There was no need to look his name up in an incognito browser, you simply think of him and your hand slowly slips down your stomach. 

His smile. 

His chest. 

His hands. 

His voice. 

Your room becomes a choir of muffled gasps of a name who’s owner you only just met. 

Somewhere, in a house far too big for one person.  The man whose name you cry out lets himself fall apart to your smile.

#ewc #ewc tag #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #i know its short im sorry yall #im hoping to god that i caught all the spelling errors but i jsut know the moment i post i'll find the stragglers