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absurdthirst · 2 years ago

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An Unconventional Arrangement {Dieter Bravo x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 22.8k

Warnings: Marriage arrangement, talks of unfaithfulness, talks of drugs and drug use, threesomes, anal sex (male receiving), oral sex (female receiving), loss of virginity, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, disagreements, angry sex, fainting, pregnancy

Comments: When Dieter Bravo learns that he must take a wife in order to continue treading the board of his beloved theatre, he comes up with an unconventional idea. Marrying his secretary. You do more than manage his household, you run his life and attend to the business aspects that his father believes he deals with. The arrangement will benefit you because of your change in social status. Just don’t fall in love with him, because he won’t change his ways.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList ||

Edit of Regency Pedro by @mustyrosewater

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

Dieter slams the door to his study, his father having just left after dropping the bomb about the clause to his inheritance. His father had informed him that it's time for him to stop messing around with acting. He needs to find his place in society and that includes taking a wife. If he doesn’t get married within the next three months, the townhouse he lives in will be taken away and he will be stripped of his monthly allowance. Dieter cannot allow that to happen. His acting career is only possible because he can afford to do what he wants with his time. He has to find a wife. Someone pliable that will understand it’s an arrangement. There’s a timid knock on the door and he growls, “fuck off.”

You huff, opening the door regardless of his growl and you enter the room of your enraged boss. “I need your signature for the food delivery. I cannot forge it again.” You sigh, holding the piece of paper out towards him.

Taking the paper, he doesn’t even bother looking at the amount, just throwing it down on his desk and reaching for his pen to scrawl his name across the bottom, authorizing funds to be paid to the merchant. He trusts you to make sure he has the liquor he likes and food he eats without bothering to check your work. You are loyal to him. His pen stops, a thought making him pause and he quickly shakes his head and throws down the pen after finishing his signature and thrusting the paper back towards you. “Do not disturb me.” He orders you, knowing that if you wanted to, that order wouldn’t stop you. You run his household, his business affairs really, with all the aptitude of a legitimate man of business without the ego.

You grip the paper, rolling your eyes at your temperamental boss. “Very well sir.” You say with a little bit of sass before your skirt sways around your ankles while you exit his office, slamming the door behind you. His household is easy to maintain, him…not so much. Dieter has you organize everything…even his drug delivery. The cocaine delivered the same day of the week at the same time so he knows exactly how to portion it out for the week to keep him from withdrawals. He is high maintenance but you came from nothing and his home has provided you with an income and shelter. You can manage him almost as well as you manage his home.

Fuck. Dieter groans and tosses himself down into his chair, pouting. A wife. A family. Things that Dieter has never wanted. He was too free with his affections, not wanting to be tied down or beholden to anyone. He enjoyed going over to the discreet brothel down near the waterfront where he could have anything and everything he wanted. Liaisons with co-stars. Men. A wife would ruin all of that. Unless he could find someone who would let him live his life as he wanted, to just play the role he needed her to play for his family. Rubbing his hand over his eyes, he reaches for the desk drawer where his snuff container was kept. Maybe a line or two would help him think of who that woman could be.

You are finishing up your correspondence for the day. Writing letters on behalf of your boss and expertly forging his signature to make it look like he actually approved the letter. After handing the letters to the butler to ensure they are mailed out in the morning, you make your way upstairs to your room. You gasp at the sight of a figure pacing outside of your door. “Dieter?” You ask, your hand over your chest when he steps into the light and you see who it is.

“You’re here.” Dieter blinks, sighing in relief and rushes towards you, scooping you up into his arms for a hug like you are his salvation. In a sense, you are. After contemplating every option and discarding them as inappropriate or totally unmanageable, he finally came up with it. You would be his wife. You already run his life, much like a wife would do. Except this time you would have the prestige and backing of the Bravo name to help you, rather than just being his housekeeper. “I need you to help me with something.” He tells you quickly. “I need you to marry me.”

You can’t stop the choke of disbelief that escapes your lips. “You want me to- your wife? Dieter. Did they - did they lace your cocaine?” You chuckle, thinking he’s just high.

“No. No. I’m sober…kind of. I just - I need you to marry me.”

You stare at him and sigh, reaching into your pocket to open your door. “Come inside and explain it to me.” You order, fumbling with the lock for a moment before opening the door. You sit down on your bed and pat the space beside you, waiting for his explanation.

He’s never been in these rooms, the servants quarters. He had never dallied with someone who worked in his household, a painful lesson he learned when his father fired the maid he had been sleeping with during his school days. The bed is small and there is barely room for a dresser and wash basin. “My father has decided it’s time that I ‘get my act together’.” He scoffs. “I am to be cut off unless I marry.”

You click your tongue, realizing now why he wants to marry. You figured Dieter would be a perpetual bachelor. He’s skilled at avoiding the mother hens at social gatherings, all seeking a husband for their newly out-to-society daughters. The Bravo name is big in New York, Dieter’s older brother is the darling of the family. The big banker with a beautiful wife and two point five children. The perfect heir to the estate. You always wondered how Dieter managed to escape marriage and the expectations set for someone of his social standing. “Why me?” You blurt out, confused as to why he would pick his secretary and not some silly debutante.

“You won’t expect anything of me.” He announces. “It won’t be a match based on love or expectations of faithfulness.” He snorts and shakes his head, unable to imagine that. “I will continue to act and dally with whomever I choose and you will get to be a Bravo. Have doors opened for you and a social status you could never achieve.” He’s blunt about it, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. Marrying you would make it easier, he wouldn’t have to hide himself. He hates that, especially in his own home.

You bite your lip, contemplating his offer. You know Dieter inside and out, all of his bad habits and his lifestyle. Most wives are too innocent to know about their husband’s extra marital activities but you’d be well aware. It doesn’t bother you. You had accepted a life as a spinster, life in the service until you were too old to be of use. That or you’d find some sweet valet to marry and end up stuck at home looking after a tiny apartment with screaming children. This opportunity allows you to create your own fate. You ponder it for another moment, imagining being able to publish a book with the Bravo name behind you. “I will marry you,” you agree, “what other terms do you have?”

Dieter’s brows shoot up, having anticipated you needing more convincing than this. He hums and tilts his head. “You have to promise that you won’t get huffy if I go out to the club or bring someone home.” He ventures. “However, I will have to sleep with you on the wedding night. Consummate the marriage.” He holds up a finger. “Oh, and do not get pregnant by someone else and try to pass the bastard off as my heir.”

You shake your head, “I am a virgin and I - if I was your wife - I would never besmirch your name by laying with another. I would be loyal to you and I would understand that you could not give me that in return.”

Dieter nods, his stomach twisting at the news that you are a virgin. It’s been a while since he has had to handle a virgin. “And I do not want any children. No heir to continue this madness that my father and brother have forced upon me. I do not wish to force my child to endure a lifetime of the weight of the Bravo name. Do you accept this condition?” He asks, knowing that some women are aching to have a child.

“I accept.” You reply, knowing that it is a full time job looking after Dieter and you’ve accepted children were never in your future once you had taken the post as his secretary.

Dieter blows out a breath and nods. “Alright.” He is relieved that you have agreed, making this easier for him to deal with his father and could continue living exactly as he had been. “We will need to dress you appropriately as my fiancée.” He looks you up and down and actually takes in your curves for a moment. He cock twitches, imagining you underneath him and you taking his cock for the first time. The only man you would sleep with. It terrifies him, but it also intrigues him. “We will take you shopping and then we will schedule dinner with my parents. Have them plan a party to announce our engagement.”

“They won’t mind you being with your secretary? I'm not a debutante or a lady.” You are a little self conscious of your background as the daughter of a farmer from Delaware. His parents can trace their bloodline back for generations.

“They will just be happy that I am settling down.” He assures you, “tomorrow, we will take you shopping to ensure you are dressed for your new life.” You nod, stomach twisting with nerves. You are now engaged to Dieter Bravo.

****

The next day, you arrange the dinner with his parents, not telling their secretary what it is regarding, just that Dieter has news he’d wish to share. That afternoon, Dieter had arranged for you to meet a sales associate to secure a new wardrobe. More clothes than you’ve had during your entire life. Gowns, day dresses, nightwear and…lingerie. The last one made your cheeks burn as the sales associate helped you pick the best items for your soon to be married life, joking that these items bring the babies into the world. You had chuckled nervously at that and picked what you liked best, trying not to imagine what Dieter would like on you to consummate the marriage. The next day is the day of the dinner and Dieter had Cook hire a lady’s maid for you. The young girl - Cynthia - helped you get ready for the dinner in the most expensive dress you’ve ever worn. It’s beautiful, lace and silk. Hugging your curves and making your cleavage look enticing but not too exposed. Wringing your hands together, you wait for Dieter to escort you down to the sitting room to wait for his parents.

Dieter’s man helps him straighten his tie and his eagle eyes run over the suit that he had picked out for Dieter to wear tonight. It was important to show that you are a good influence on him, especially to his father. He would accept you if he could show that you could curb some of Dieter’s more impulsive acts. Like the time he had attended a dinner party in day clothes. “You are ready, sir.” Dieter nods and smiles at the older gentleman. “Thank you, Harold.” He moves towards the door of his dressing room, needing to make his way to the suite that the lady of the house possesses, where he had moved you into earlier today.

You exhale shakily when Dieter knocks on the door, brushing down your dress as Cynthia opens the door, nodding her head to her boss before she scurries down the hall. “Am I acceptable?” You ask Dieter, a small smile on your face as you tease slightly to cover your nerves. You are worried his parents will reject you - they probably should, considering this is a farce.

He’s stunned for a moment, completely breathless as he takes in the sight of you in the beautiful silk dress that is the height of fashion right now. You look….beautiful. Your hair is perfectly styled and the dress flatters your body, making his cock twitch again as he thinks about taking it off of you. “It’s missing something.” He tells you after a small cough. Reaching into his jacket pocket to pull out the ring that he had picked out from the jeweler today. Even if you weren’t going to have a traditional marriage, you are going to be his wife and you cannot have an inferior ring on your finger. He opens the box and shows you the ring. “This will make it perfect.”

Your eyes widen as you stare at the beautiful diamond. “Dieter. It’s…extravagant.” You breathe out, certain that this ring costs more than the income of several generations of your family. “It has to be if you are to be my wife.” He retorts with a chuckle, knowing his family name is of the utmost importance to maintaining his carefree lifestyle. “Well, can I put it on you?” He asks and you nod, holding out your shaking hand. He tuts, grabbing your hand after taking the ring out of the box, the velvet box tossed onto the rug, then he slides it onto your finger. “There. Now you are perfect.” He says, his eyes trailing over you again. You aren’t sure why it makes your stomach twist, an uneasy feeling that isn’t bad, just different.

“I’m ready.” You tell him, knowing that his acting skills will have to carry this facade.

Dieter wraps your hand around his arm and pats the top of it gently. “We will get through this together.” He promises you. “My parents will be thrilled. Especially since you are able to reign me in.” He snorts since that is not the agreement between you, but his parents don’t know that. Guiding you out of your new bedroom, the two of you make your way to the ornate staircase leading downstairs just as the door knocker echoes in the entryway. “Ready or not.” Dieter mutters as he flashes you a smile and the two of you descend down the stairs as the butler opens the door to greet his parents.

You inhale deeply, your knees shaking a little as his parents enter the foyer. Mrs. Bravos is a kind woman whenever you’ve made her acquaintance while planning a function at the Bravo mansion. Sometimes she asks her sons to provide additional staff for her parties. You have only heard stories of Mr. Bravo, a shrewd man with an eye for business and a need for his family to be top among New York society. “Mr. And Mrs. Bravo,” the butler declares as he gestures to the couple.

“Father.” Dieter nods to the older man who has the same striking nose and sharp jaw. “Mother.” There is a small smile reserved for the woman who had given birth to him. She had encouraged him in some of his free spiritedness although a lot of it had come naturally from his resisting societal expectations. “I would like to introduce you to my fiancée.” He announces, telling them your name and turning to give you an adoring smile.

His father sighs and shakes his head. “What is the meaning of this?” He asks Dieter. “Have you dallied with the help again and managed to get her pregnant?”

Dieter chokes and shakes his head, frowning at his father. “My fiancée is still pure.” He informs his father tightly, tensing beside you. “She is most definitely not pregnant nor have I slept with the ‘help’ again.” He should have known that his father would make comments that weren’t kind.

You knew that his father has always been prickly but to hear his dismissal of you before he even knows you upsets you. “With all due respect sir, I would not accept your son’s proposal if I was sullied or with child. I would never jeopardize your family name like that. I may not come from good standing but my father taught me morality and ethics. I accepted your son’s proposal knowing that I am not what you would have wanted for him but I will try hard to ensure that I am worthy of your last name.”

There is a pregnant pause and Dieter wants to kiss you for simply making his father’s normally prickly mouth close for even a moment. “Well now that we have dispensed with the pleasantries, would you like to go into the parlor for a before dinner drink? Or shall we sit down?” Dieter asks, proud of you for standing up for yourself.

You wait for his father to recover, his mouth setting in a hard line. “Let’s sit down. Your mother wants to discuss the nuptials.” His father’s tone is harsh and slightly defeated. Dieter nods and the butler escorts you into the dining room.

Dieter pulls your chair out, making his mother smile, and you look up at him and murmur, “thank you.” You are a little uneasy, knowing the rest of the staff as well as you do, to have them watching you sit at the dining table. Most are aware of the arrangement but all of them are too well paid to risk revealing anything. Every household has their secrets and this one is no exception, but a well paid job is hard to come by so you know none of them will risk their income.

Once seated, the wine has been poured, making Dieter lean back in his seat. “I am assuming that you and mother would like to host an engagement ball?” He asks, looking between the two people who had brought him into the world. “Followed by a wedding in two weeks time?” He looks over at you to see how you felt about this. “Between your staff and mine, mother, I believe that we can get this done without too much upheaval.”

His mother grins and looks over at you. “We will go to the dressmaker first to ensure the gown can be completed in time. We have a lot of details to go over. Flowers. Food. You shall have the reception at our home. Oh, music! So much to think about. We will make sure it is a fabulous wedding. My youngest is getting married.” She chokes, her eyes watering up.

“Meredith please.” His father scoffs, shaking his head.

Dieter barely keeps from rolling his eyes, stopped only by the way that you lean over and place your hand on his arm. It’s an incredibly intimate move and it makes him refocus on you rather than his father’s irritability. Giving you a small smile, Dieter picks up your hand and kisses the back of it. “Let the women get emotional.” He murmurs to his father. “It will be the last wedding she will be able to plan, unless my brother’s daughters get married young.”

You smile at Meredith who practically beams at Dieter for how he treats you. “Precisely. My youngest son is getting married to a beautiful, smart woman. Let me indulge.” She almost begs her husband who relents and nods his consent to his wife.

“It’s a good thing your bride knows how to organize.” His father hums.

Before another word can be said, the appetizer is served and you bite your lip, confused by all the silverware. Before you can make a fool of yourself, Dieter leans over to whisper into your ear. “Outside in. Watch me.” He orders, kissing your cheek to conceal his assistance. His mother grins at the move and you are surprised by the way your heart thumps in response to the soft kiss. You watch him pick up the knife and fork and follow his lead, trying your best to eat elegantly.

The thing that was good about dinners with his parents is that while you are eating, his father doesn’t expect anyone to engage in conversation. The small scraps of the silverware against the china is all that can be heard. Dieter sneaks looks over at you, amazed that you are making the act of eating look elegant and slightly erotic, watching you bring the spoon up to your lips and sipping demurely, making him think about other ways your lips could be used that are not respectable.

You don’t notice Dieter’s gaze as you wrap your lips around the spoon, your heart hammering as you try to make a good impression. When the coffee is served after dessert, you know you are near the finish line. “I shall call on you in the morning for the dress appointment. Will your mother be joining us?” Meredith asks.

You shake your head, biting your lip to stop the tears that sting your eyes from falling. “My mother…she died when I was a child from influenza.” You reveal once you’ve swallowed the lump in your throat.

He didn’t know that, never really paying attention to those types of things with the staff. His heart lurches and he reaches for your hand again, squeezing it gently. “I am very sure that my mother would be delighted to have you consider her an honorary mother.” He tells you softly. “She had always wished for a daughter to spoil and unfortunately, father got his second son.” He jokes, knowing that it would make you smile.

You smile, squeezing his hand back as he comforts you. You’ve rarely seen a caring side to your boss. Usually he only cares about himself. You stare at him for a moment before looking back at his mother. “I would have loved a daughter. The dresses? The dolls? Oh, much better than muddy boys.” She winks at you, “you’ll hopefully find that out soon enough when you have your own children.”

Dieter coughs discreetly, not bothering to mention that children will not be something that you will have to worry about. It’s not something that he will bring up, knowing that his father will have something to say about it. Instead he just hums and stands. “We should retire to the drawing room.” He offers. “An after dinner sherry?”

You can’t help but be a little sad to not have a child but you had agreed to marry Dieter and that was one of the terms. You’d mourn that later, not now. “That sounds wonderful dear.” You say to Dieter, taking his hand as he helps you up from the chair, making his mother grin.

“Yes and we can discuss your preferences on the luncheon. Perhaps pheasant would be a nice change from the usual wedding fare. Something fancier for my son and his beautiful bride.” Meredith coos and part of you feels guilty that she is doing all of this work for a fake marriage.

“Whatever my bride wants.” Dieter is positively smug about how well this is going. His mother is fully on your side and that means his father will come around. He may never admit it, but his father usually gives his mother what she wants. The four of you make your way into the drawing room, the staff having placed a tray with the sherry and four sniffers in here for this occasion. When his parents were here, all evidence of Dieter’s hedonistic life was hidden from view.

You are surprised to see a lack of all things Dieter, a display of civility that is usually lacking in the drawing room. You quickly conceal your surprise and take the sherry from Dieter’s hand, thanking him before you settle on the loveseat. “Sit next to your bride, Dieter.” Meredith tuts, settling down next to her quiet husband on the sofa opposite. Dieter nods and sits next to you with his own glass. “So…how did you propose, Dieter?” Meredith asks, wanting to know the details of her son’s sudden change of heart. She isn’t aware of her husband’s ultimatum.

Dieter was close to taking his first sip of his sherry when his mother asks the question. Making him freeze and pull the glass down and look over at you. “To be completely candid, mother, I ambushed her.” He reveals, shifting his drink over to his other hand and reaching for yours. “I had discovered - after much reflection - that she was perfect for me, everything I wanted in a wife.” He gushes. “I was pacing outside her room door when she was done with her daily work.”

You bite your lip, acting bashful when really, you are trying to stop yourself from blurting out that it’s all fake. His mother is too kind and caring to be a part of this charade. “Why is she perfect for you?” His father’s tone is cutting, curious and cunning as he tries to discover why his son has decided to marry one of his staff.

Dieter bristles slightly, his smile turning slightly stony, but he sends you a small wink. “Because this gorgeous creature can make me behave myself.” He lies, you’ve never tried to control him. “She understands my position and she has never once failed to run my household with the utmost care.” His father didn’t know you ran his business affairs, thinking that he had done them himself. “It helps that she is able to smooth my ruffled feathers and looks stunning on my arm.”

You smile, a little taken back by the softness in his voice but then you remind yourself that he is an actor, this is what he does. Makes an audience believe what he is saying. “I’ll keep him in line.” You chuckle, wrapping your arm around Dieter’s and leaning towards him. His mother beams and his father frowns, not quite sold. The drinks are soon gone and Dieter doesn’t offer another round, wanting his parents out of his home.

“It was lovely meeting you, my future daughter. Let’s meet in the morning to begin your wedding dress and I’ll have my secretary arrange an appointment.” She smiles at you, leaning in to kiss your cheek. Your stomach twists, enjoying her warmth since you had not experienced that after losing your mother.

“Thank you.” You smile at her, pulling back when she steps away. His father offers you a look as his goodbye but you don’t shrink under it, determined to not let him win. “It was a pleasure, Mr. Bravo.” You tell him and he just grunts in response. Once his parents leave, you sigh in relief, the corset suddenly too restrictive and you turn towards Dieter. “I - I need you to loosen my corset. I can’t breathe.” You gasp, suddenly overwhelmed by the prospect of continuing this charade.

Dieter’s eyes widen but he rushes over, unbuttoning the small pearls buttons of your gown so he can tug it down. “You were magnificent.” He praises as he works, thick fingers making quick work of the tiny buttons. He has plenty of practice getting dresses off his co-stars and lovers.

His fingers brush your skin as he works on untying your corset, loosening it enough so you can finally inhale deeply. You close your eyes, trying to stop that stupid feeling that tells you this is going to end in disaster. You have no choice. He’s your only path to publishing your novel. “Sorry. I just - I was overwhelmed.” You turn to face him, meeting his dark eyes and you fluster when you realize you had him practically undress you. “Sorry. I didn’t - I should’ve asked Cynthia.”

Smirking, he steps back and shakes his head. “I have undressed many lovers.” He reminds you, forcing himself to keep his eyes on yours. Since you had accepted his agreement, he finds himself eager to see more of you, to touch you. Things he had never wanted before, not seemingly irresistible. “Tomorrow will be busy.” He murmurs, shaking off the thought and deciding that he needed to go out. “You should go to bed. I am going to the club.” He tells you. “I need to blow off some steam after a night with my parents.”

You nod, trying to ignore that sinking feeling in your stomach. You know that he doesn’t want to spend more time with you than what is required. Social events and limited interactions at home. “Have a good time. Goodnight Dieter.” You offer him a small smile before you make your way up the main stairs to your new bedroom.

He watches the door after you leave for far longer than he would have liked. Trying to convince himself that he needs to go to the club. Shaking his head, he moves to leave the drawing room as well, reaching for his coat before the butler could. “I will be out late.” He informs his man, knowing he needs to go fuck someone, go get high. Maybe get fucked himself.

Dieter groans, thrusting into the woman beneath him while the man pushes his hips against his ass, cock buried deep inside of him. Dieter’s mind is finally at peace, making him cry out as his orgasm nears. The haze of the drugs he had smoked hangs heavy in the air and he is thrilled to forget about his future. His damnation. He won’t allow you to pigeonhole him in a relationship. You may be pretty - stunning even - but you won’t drag him into boring matrimony. It’s an arrangement. Just an arrangement.

****

The next morning comes far too early in Dieter’s opinion. Bleary eyed and slightly hungover, he had not even returned to his townhouse until the early morning hours. Only the threat of his mother being here bright and early to take you to find a wedding dress had him up and seated at the breakfast table, his hair poking up in every direction and his mood dark as he sips his first cup of coffee and desperately wishes for a line of coke before she arrives. His plate is in front of him and the newspaper set off to the side so he can open it up and pretend he is reading it when she arrives, like his father does at breakfast every morning.

You enter the dining room for breakfast, still not used to striding in here when you would make your way downstairs to have breakfast with the other staff long before this time in the morning. It’s made you realize how luxurious it is to be among the elite and how grateful you are for this opportunity. “Goodness, you look awful.” You tell Dieter as you sit down beside him. Never one to mince your words, you stare at him until the butler comes over to pour your tea. You pick up the spoon, popping in a cube of sugar before stirring, the metal hitting the side of the delicate china.

“Fuck. Can you stop making so much noise?” Dieter groans, rubbing his eyes.

You chuckle, making him groan again, “late night was it darling?” You tease, picking up your cup to take a sip of the tea.

Dieter opens his eyes, glaring at you in annoyance. Who knew you’d be so fucking aggravating this time in the morning? Perhaps he should take his breakfast in his room. “You may be my future wife but if you think you can make fun of me you can go fu- oh, good morning mother.” His demeanor changes as his mother enters the dining room unannounced.

“Goodness Dieter. What happened to you? You look like the cat dragged you in.” His mother is innocent to his perversions, always thinking her son was a gentleman.

“He was restless worrying about the wedding. Weren’t you sweetheart?” You coo, reaching out to run your fingers through his messy hair to smooth it down.

His head is pounding but he groans at the feeling of your fingers scratching against his scalp. “Yes.” He rasps out, grateful that at least you had made sure that his mother was kept in the dark. “Pacing in my study, wanting to make sure that everything goes right.” He captures your hand and brings it down to kiss it, partly in thanks for your quick thinking before he lets go and picks up his coffee again. Since she is here, his mother sits down and the cook’s assistant rushes to place a tea cup in front of her.

Your hand tingles from his kiss and you look at him for several moments until his mother says your name. “I beg your pardon, Mrs. Bravo?” You turn to look at her.

“Meredith. Please, we are to be family. I asked about your preferences for a gown. Do you have any requests?” She picks up a piece of toast, taking a delicate bite while waiting for your response.

“No requests.” You answer honestly, “I just want something that will make Dieter’s jaw drop.” You smile, knowing deep down you want to impress him.

She giggles, “any gown you wear will make my son’s jaw drop. We will make sure to find nightwear that makes his trousers drop.” She teases, making your eyes widen and you can’t stop the giggle that escapes your lips when you look over at Dieter who is actually blushing.

“Mother.” He huffs, in embarrassment, not used to his mother talking like that.

“Come now, Dieter, I am fully aware that you are not the blushing virgin your bride is.” She waves away his complaint and looks over at you with motherly affection. “You and I will discuss what you should expect on your wedding night and I know my son will not disappoint you.” There is a slightly pointed order to her words, making Dieter duck his head and pick up his coffee cup again as if he was still in the nursery.

“Yes, madam.” He mutters, wondering when the two of you will leave and let him suffer his hangover in peace.

Your mouth opens and closes in shock, unsure of how to respond to his mother. There’s so much she doesn’t know, so much she must never find out. “Plus you will need to please your wife if you plan for her to have your babies.” Meredith winks at you.

You chuckle awkwardly and Dieter just shakes his head and groans, “it’s too early for this shit.” His muttered groan doesn’t escape his mother’s ears but she seems to ignore it.

“Come now dear, eat up. We can’t be late for our appointment.” You follow her order and soon enough, you are both leaving Dieter in peace to eat his breakfast and recover from his hangover.

Dieter finds himself unable to eat after the two of you leave, pushing his plate and his coffee away and cradling his head in his hands. The wedding night. What he had been trying to forget and his mother had so brazenly brought it up. Last night had been what he wanted, yet he had still thought about the fact that he would be taking you to bed when you walked into the breakfast room.

Instantly making his cock twitch despite having fucked to exhaustion just hours before. It’s an arrangement. He would fuck you to consumate the vows and then he will go back to doing exactly what he wants, which is anyone who catches his eye. You will be his wife, not his lover.

You stare at yourself in the mirror, admiring the lace and silk gown that makes you look like a bride. It’s overwhelming. The most expensive clothing you’ve ever worn and it’s beautiful. You are in shock but Meredith claps her hands together, admiring the gown. “It will need to be adjusted but it looks incredible. My future daughter will be the talk of the town.” She grins, walking closer to you, “my son won’t be able to keep his hands off of you for the reception. He will be speechless…for once in his life. It’s - it’s perfect. What do you think, dear?” She asks you and all you can do is nod. Part of you is sad that your mother isn’t here for this moment.

“It’s perfect.” You choke, tears in your eyes and that makes Meredith practically squeal.

“We will take it.” She says to the dressmaker.

“Meredith. It’s so exp-” You sigh but she cuts you off. “It’s a wedding and you are now our family. No bookkeeping for this event. There’s no budget. Just let me spoil you.” She pleads, making you pause before you nod your head. You feel so guilty. This arrangement is a farce and she believes her son is in love with you and wants to marry you. Have a family with you. It’s almost too much to bear. You open your mouth but she cuts you off, telling you that the lingerie is next. Mortified and distracted, you let the dressmaker pin the dress before you are escorted to the dressing room to change back into your day clothes. You wonder how you will survive the wedding day. It’s only two weeks away.

****

Dieter sighs, keeping the interested expression on his face as the receiving line continues to go on. Despite the fact that the invitations were issued last minute, everyone had decided to attend the Bravo ball. His acting company was put out because his attendance was required and that meant that his understudy was performing tonight. He had begged them to understand. This would allow him to continue to perform without interference from now on. Still, the tedium of standing to greet everyone was wearing on his nerves. Turning to you, he once again is struck by how beautiful you look in the new ball gown his mother had sent over for you. “Enjoying ‘society’?” He murmurs sarcastically in your ear. “They are a boring lot, aren’t they?”

You bite your lip to smother your smirk before you nod, looking at your fiancé. “Certainly not the most entertaining folk I’ve ever been around. It has made me realize that downstairs is where the fun is.” You remember the various laughs and stories you’d shared with the staff during meals and brief interactions. No one in this ballroom seems inclined to crack a smile. “No wonder you prefer the company of actors.” You murmur, turning your head and you realize how close his face is to yours. You swallow harshly, meeting those dark eyes and he remains close until an old lady bedazzled in jewels approaches from down the line.

“Ah you must be the farmer's daughter everyone is talking about. Dieter, pleasure to see you again. I am curious - since everyone else is too shy to ask - why would you pick a member of your household to marry? Perhaps you have dallied with the wrong sort and needed a quick marriage?” She assumes more than questions while her eyes drop to your stomach.

Dieter bristles and straightens his back ramrod straight. “Mrs. Alford.” He nods his head briefly in acknowledgment before he slides his hand around your waist to bring you closer to his side. Signaling silently that he was protective of you. “No joyous occasion to happen soon, I assure you.” He gives a small laugh as if he found the comment amusing, although his eyes were cold. “My intended is the woman I had been searching for since I was at school, I was just too blind to see it right away.” He turns and gives you a loving look. “As the second son, I am allowed to marry for love, so I am.”

You look at him in awe, knowing that this question will be thrown at you a lot during the next two weeks until you have the protection of his name and the rumors settle down. Some other hot piece of gossip will come along eventually. “Very well. I suppose congratulations are in order, my dear. Not everyone is so fortunate to make their way up the pecking order as spectacularly as you.” She quips before striding off.

“Bitch.” Dieter hisses and makes no move to remove his hand from your waist.

“Brother. This must be the unfortunate soul you’ve conned into marrying you.” The older of the Bravo Brothers, Alexander, appears with his prim and proper wife by his side.

Dieter snorts and shakes his head, reaching out with his other hand to shake his brother’s with enthusiasm. His brother was a good man, despite excelling in their father’s expectations. “She is thrilled to be my wife.” Dieter counters, looking over at you with a smirk. “Aren’t you, my love? You should feel sorry for my sister-in-law for being married to the older brother who tormented me when we were in the nursery together.”

You smile, enjoying the banter between the two brothers. “I am certain that our marriage will never be dull.” You answer, a soft smile on your face as you look at Dieter.

“That’s for sure.” Alexander’s wife giggles softly.

“You must tell me what made a beautiful creature like you fall for my wild bronco of a brother.” He asks and you ponder your answer for a moment. Deciding to answer honestly with your thoughts about your boss, you look back at the couple.

“He is unlike anyone I’ve ever met before. Refusing to adhere to societal norms while forging his own path to ensure ultimate happiness in whatever he endeavors. There is madness to that quality but it’s admirable nonetheless. Deciding to live one’s life for themselves instead of adhering to what is expected…it’s brave. Dieter is a mind full of information, stored from the amount of reading he enjoys and I know he is much smarter than he allows others to observe. He knows that life is short and one must enjoy it as much as possible. It doesn’t hurt that he is handsome too.” You add with affection.

Stunned by your assessment of him, Dieter turns to his brother, concealing his shock with a pleased grin. “See? She thinks I’m perfect.” He jokes, fully aware that you know all of his faults. Ones that his family do not even know about.

You smile, looking at him and you have never realized how handsome he truly is. You admire his profile, his beautiful nose, and his perfectly straight teeth as he laughs at something his brother says. Shit. You mentally curse, it could be easy to fall in love with him. Shaking your head a little, you engage in conversation with his brother’s wife until they move on to find a glass of champagne. “Everything okay?” Dieter asks, leaning closer and you inhale the scent of tobacco and something else.

“Ye- yes. Yes. Absolutely fine.” You choke out, stepping out of his embrace once his parents begin their toast of your engagement.

Dieter turns to see his father command everyone’s attention. “Tonight we are gathered here to announce and celebrate our youngest son, Dieter’s engagement.” He tells the crowd.

You stand straight, trying to maintain an air that could possibly match that of the others in the ballroom. You make yourself believe that you belong here among the elite of New York. “We are happy that Dieter has finally found a woman to make his wife, completing our family for now until they have children. We always knew Dieter would be unconventional. He was a strange child, burying himself in books and plays instead of playing outside with the other children. He continues to be unconventional by marrying the help.” His father says before Meredith gently nudges her husband. “However, we are happy that our son is happy so please, raise your glasses to the happy couple.” You frown, not liking the veiled insults within his speech but Dieter hands you a glass of champagne and when you toast, you vow to put his father in his place. Maybe not tonight but one day.

Dieter huffs, muttering under his breath as he tips his champagne back and plasters a smile on his face. The last thing he wants is for any of the elite to think that he wasn’t wild about marrying you. It would be enough of a trial for you as it was and he wants you to be accepted. The applause is loud and he turns to you with a grin. “At least the wedding will be a smaller, family affair.” He promises, having insisted that you both did not want some grand affair.

You nod, sipping the champagne as you offer a small smile to the crowd. When the party's over, you exhale in relief when you arrive back at Dieter’s house. “Your mother is far too kind.” You tell him, patting his hand before the carriage door opens. You take the footman’s hand to step out and you swiftly walk up the steps to the townhouse, greeting the butler with a soft smile.

“Good evening, ma’am.” He nearly says your name but you are soon to be the lady of the house.

Dieter shrugs out of his coat while the butler helps you out of yours. “She is, but she wants you to not get cold feet as well.” He snorts, rolling his eyes. “She’ll have more grandchildren on her mind now that she knows we are marrying.” Handing his coat to the butler, he turns towards the parlor for another drink. “Which she will be disappointed not to get, but that is a fight for another day. I need to invite some friends over…” he mutters to himself, feeling odd after the night spent beside you.

You watch him stalk towards the parlor without another glance in your direction, and you sigh, knowing that that is his dismissal. “Goodnight, Mr. Bravo.” You huff before you make your way upstairs to go to bed. Tomorrow is another day. One day closer to your marriage to the man downstairs who would never be yours. Not truly.

Sitting in his chair, his shirt unbuttoned and tie tossed aside, Dieter rubs his nose. The toot of coke is finally hitting his system and he feels his entire body start to relax. He is pent up. That’s what he tells himself as he snatches the bottle of scotch up and pours a healthy measure into the tumbler in front of him. That is why he wanted to go upstairs and strip that ball gown off you. Have you cry out his name while he buries his tongue in your virgin cunt. He grunts and reaches down to palm his cock while he takes a sip of the liquor. Maybe he would call over someone to suck his cock while he drinks whiskey. That sounds like a good way to get that idea out of his head.

****

You look at yourself in the mirror, a shaking breath escaping your lips as you admire the beautiful wedding gown you are wearing. You look like a different woman, you look like you fit into the society you’re about to be an official part of. The past two weeks have been a blur, full of planning and picking linens and choosing the food. It’s been insanity but Dieter kept you sane during the entire event. You smile as you think of him. You know he wants this to be an arrangement but every day you’ve spent in his company as his fiancée has endeared you to him. He’s zany but clever, selfish but considerate in other ways. You know he doesn’t want to be with you in the conventional manner but you haven’t been able to stop yourself from imagining a real marriage with him. It would be easy to love him, you can feel yourself falling for him and you can’t seem to stop yourself. Even when he goes to the club, you cry yourself to sleep knowing you’ll never be enough for him. However, you agreed to his terms and you will stick to them, not allowing him to see how your feelings have changed.

“Ready?” Meredith asks and you bite your lip, nodding.

“Yes.” You exhale shakily and she rubs your arm.

“Let’s get you married.”

It takes everything in him not to fidget. To pick at his cufflinks or adjust the already perfectly positioned bow tie. His suit is resplendent, perfected by the tailor and lovingly prepared by his man, making him look every bit the perfect groom for a bride. He’s nervous. As much as this is a farce, you will be his wife. His responsibility. He hates that he will be given that title as your lord when you have been the one caring for him for so long. The church is nearly empty, save for the bridal party, just the way he insisted and the minister clears his throat, making Dieter look up, his eyes widening and his mouth dropping open as the music starts and he catches sight of you.

You fluster at the look on Dieter's face, certain that he is just looking at you like that because you've never looked like this. Your legs shake a little as you make your way towards him, biting your lip as you step down the aisle. Your father was unable to leave the farm to walk you down the aisle - that was his excuse but you know he just didn't want to come to New York. You were sad but not disappointed, knowing it was unlikely that he'd leave Delaware. You are finally standing in front of Dieter. "Fancy seeing you here." You tease, trying to lighten the heavy weight on your chest that you are marrying a man you could easily love who will never return your feelings.

“S-small world.” Dieter manages, swallowing harshly as he lifts the veil that is over your face and tucks it behind you. “Wow.” He murmurs softly. “You are so beautiful.” He feels like he’s just seeing you for the first time. Even if he knows you are pretty, the thoughts about fucking you constant over the past two weeks. But right now you are taking his breath away and he swears that he’s never seen a woman more beautiful.

Your heart thumps at the awed look on his face. His dark eyes are soft as he looks at you in a way you’ve never seen before. “You look handsome too.” You murmur, unable to look away from him. He shaved and slicked his usually messy hair back. You've never seen him look so good. The minister clears his throat once more and you fluster, turning back so the ceremony can begin.

He can barely listen to the words as the minister starts his speech about marriage, too busy holding your hand and wondering if you are as nervous as he is. Squeezing your hand gently and glancing over at you every few moments to make sure that this is real, that he isn’t in some kind of drug fueled dream.

You are distracted by Dieter, barely paying attention to the vows as you hold his hand. When the minister asks if you take Dieter to be your husband, you just about manage to squeak out a “I do.” Dieter nods, repeating the response before you exchange rings. Sliding the gold band onto his finger, you remind yourself that this doesn’t make him yours. You belong to him, but he is his own man. He can do whatever he wants. You cannot. However, when he slides the ring onto your finger, you don’t feel suffocated and trapped. You feel peaceful, like this was always meant to be. The feeling confuses you and before you can ponder it anymore, the minister declares you husband and wife, telling Dieter he can kiss his bride.

Licking his lips, Dieter cups your cheeks, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours in a chaste kiss. Although, being him, he cannot help but sweep his tongue along the seam of your lips to make you gasp out, surprised that he had done that in front of the minister and his family.

He pulls away after a moment, taking your hand to guide you down the aisle, his family and friends cheering along with the staff who had attended since the reception is to be held at the Bravo’s mansion. You can’t believe you’re married, and to your boss. It’s insanity but it feels so damn right. You make your way outside of the church to several well wishers who throw rice over you and Dieter, making him grumble and you giggle. Once you’re in the carriage to his childhood home, you turn to look at him. “Regretting this yet?” You ask, noticing the distant look on his face.

“No.” Dieter shakes his head, looking over at you with a sigh. “It had to happen. Father would have insisted on some blushing debutante and I hate to imagine the incessant whining I would have to endure.” He was shaken by the kiss. As innocent as it was, it had made his stomach twist and he was trying to convince himself that it was just the anticipation of fucking you. “You know what to expect, right?” He asks, wondering if you know the mechanics of it all. After all, he believed you when you said you were a virgin. You are not a liar.

You swallow harshly, nodding as you turn to look out of the carriage before meeting his gaze. “Your mother…bless her soul, she told me everything…everything.” You emphasize. “I can see where you get your penchant for sexual exploration.” You chuckle, remembering the way she intensely described the sensation of oral sex. “I’m not a blushing debutante. I’ve read books. Erotica. I also know it won’t be good for me. I have no silly notion that we will be making love and not just fucking to ensure the marriage is consummated.” You are blunt but you need to compartmentalize these pesky feelings you’re having.

Dieter frowns at the way ‘just fucking’ sounds coming out of your mouth. He doesn’t like it. Shaking off that thought, he smirks at you. “Erotica, huh? Dirty thing.” He chuckles quietly and his eyes are dark with amusement and mischief. “I will have to make sure I make it really good to compare to the lovers in those books. I’m sure I’ve read all the ones you have. Did you touch yourself after reading them? Up in your little bed all by yourself, whimpering and trying not to moan?”

His words make your cunt clench, his voice low and deep as he leans closer. He continues to stare at you with those molten brown eyes, making you gulp. “I- yes.” You admit softly, trying to keep your voice steady. “I touched myself. Late at night when no one would hear an accidental moan.”

Dieter groans quietly, pleased that you admitted it. “Tonight, I want you to make sure everyone in the house hears your moans.” He hums cockily. Not because he wants to make sure everyone knows the marriage is consummated, but so that his reputation is intact. He won’t have it said that he did not fuck his own wife properly. “No shame, I want to hear every little cry and moan.”

You bite your lip, nodding and you try to ignore the sinking feeling that he just wants the house to know that he consummated the marriage. You catch yourself, reverting back to your protective shield of sarcasm. “Better make sure you do a good job then, Bravo.” You pat his knee playfully, resisting the urge to slide your hand up to his crotch.

He snorts and arches a brow at you. “A challenge?” He asks. “When you are fucked into the bed, worn out and nearly catatonic from pleasure, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You smirk, leaning closer to kiss his freshly shaven jaw. “And if it is you who is worn out and nearly catatonic from pleasure? I might not have experienced sex before, dear husband, but I’ve read about it and a woman knows what to do simply from reading. Perhaps-” You lean closer to whisper in his ear, “it is you who should prepare.” Your teasing mood makes you nip his ear before you lean back, just in time for the carriage to pull-up outside of his parents’ mansion.

Hissing, Dieter has to adjust his half hard cock at your brazen words. It would be nice if he could believe it. To have a bold bride and not someone tearful and worried in the bedroom. He had been dreading that, but the way you talk, you might straddle his lap and sink down on his cock yourself, taking your own innocence. The door opens and when you are halfway out of the carriage, Dieter reaches out and pinches your ass.

You gasp, reaching behind you to swat his hand away before you giggle, taking his hand once you’re both on the sidewalk to let him guide you into the home where the well wishers will be gathered in one of the ballrooms, waiting for your entrance. “Now your acting skills really come into play.” You whisper playfully, knowing you’ll be “on stage” for the duration of the evening. You’re hoping to convince Dieter to make out like you’re desperate to consummate the marriage to secure an early departure.

“Do not worry.” Dieter pats your hand that is on his arm. “Mother procured enough champagne that everyone will be well sloshed soon and we can make our escape. Although I do want to make sure we eat first. Mother’s cook is amazing.”

Everyone is soon gathered in the reception, the champagne flowing and the food delicious. Once the food has been served and demolished, Dieter’s father stands up, clinking his champagne glass with his signet ring. Once everyone is quiet, he begins to speak. “First of all, I would like to thank everyone for attending this joyous occasion.” His voice says it’s anything but joyous for him. “Congratulations to my son and his new bride, may they be happy and blessed despite their differences.” He finishes the slightly awkward speech and then you know it’s Dieter’s turn to address the crowd.

Standing, he barely keeps from scoffing. “Thank you father, for that amazing vote of confidence.” Dieter intones sarcastically before he turns on a charming smile and glances around the room. “I want to thank everyone for being here, to witness the day that the rest of our lives begin.” He holds up his drink and turns to you, “Darling, you stole my breath today when you walked towards me in your wedding gown. May everyday make me just as breathless in your presence.” He says. “Our life will be full of adventures, and joy, love and happiness. Together.”

You almost believe it. Almost. But you know that Dieter is a talented actor, you’ve seen his rehearsals when he had his co-stars over for running lines that turned into something else less scripted. His gaze seems genuine but you know he’s just acting. You smile at him, kissing him softly on the lips when he leans down to you before he clinks his glass with your own while others echo his toast.

After cutting the cake and threatening Dieter with murder if he shoved any of it in your face, you are anxious to leave. Part of you is excited for the wedding night. To know if his words will translate into action in order to make you feel things you’ve never felt before. Another part of you is scared. Worried he won’t like what he sees. Another part of you, worries you’ll like it - love it even - and then you’ll be resigned to that one night and then a lifetime of celibacy while he seeks his pleasure with others.

“Are you ready to go?” He asks, leaning in to whisper in your ear. You offer him a nod, too anxious to speak and he quickly makes your excuses. Both of you leave the reception to cheers from the crowd while you make your way to the carriage.

Dieter waits until you are in the carriage before he pulls himself up inside, closing the door and settling himself beside you. “I know you are worried.” He has seen the slight tremble in your frame when you had left the house. “It will not be horrible.” He promises. “I will wear a condom. So we do not have to worry about getting you pregnant.”

You nod, thankful that he won’t be pushing you to have an heir. Childbirth is risky and you are glad to have a reprieve from that fear. You are quiet as the carriage heads back to his home, too busy thinking about the fact that tonight is the night you will lose your virginity. Something you have considered over the past two weeks but this is the moment. You can feel his eyes on you when the carriage pulls up to his home, and you take the footman’s hand when the door is opened.

Dieter knows that you are nervous, his hand on your back as he comes to stand beside you. “Do you want a drink in the parlor, or do you want to go upstairs and get ready?” He asks, unwilling to order you to do it. He wants you to be relaxed tonight and willing.

You bite your lip as you enter the townhouse, your gown gathered up as you stand in the foyer. “I’d like to take a drink upstairs while I get ready.” You give yourself a third option and he nods, shrugging off his jacket as the butler takes it for him.

“I’ll get you a brandy.” He walks into the parlor and comes out a few moments later with your drink.

“Thank you.” You lean in to peck his lips before you take the glass. “Come upstairs in twenty minutes.” You tell him, knowing it will take Cynthia a while to take the pins out of your hair. He nods and you make your way upstairs. Heart pounding as you sip your drink while Cynthia handles your hair.

Once the brandy is gone and Cynthia has exited the bedroom with a flustered “good luck,” you wait for Dieter to come and find you. The lace feeling a little itchy but you ignore it, wanting him to be happy with his wife even if you will only be together in the sexual sense tonight.

Dieter had gone to his own bathroom to change after two belts of the brandy to calm his own nerves. He has no idea why he is nervous, other than this was his wife rather than his lover. Stripping out of the vest and shirt to leave him in just his trouser and bare feet. Thinking that the less clothes he shows up in, the better. Grabbing one of the prophylactics he has from its case, he shoves it in his pocket and makes his way to the door that connects his suite with yours. Allowing the two of you to move between bedrooms without going into the hall. He taps on the door. “May I come in?”

“Yes.” You clear your throat, determined to not sound nervous despite your heart hammering in your chest. When he enters the room shirtless, your breath catches in your throat and you want to reach out and run your palms down his chest. You pray he likes what he sees - the lacy nightgown that the sales associate had picked out when you went shopping. The white lace displaying your soon-to-be over status as a virgin.

Dieter bites his lips, dragging his eyes up and down your form. The nightgown is perfectly virginal, beautiful and he wants it off of you. Wants to see your body before he touches you, but you are not one of his lovers, you are his wife. His tongue traces along his bottom lip as his eyes meet yours. “Your books, did you ever read about a man licking a woman’s cunt?” He asks, mouth watering at the prospect. “Sucking on her tits, and biting on them?”

Your body feels like it’s on fire at the look in his dark eyes. The air is heavy and you keep your eyes on his. “Some of them…my favorite ones.” You admit, not backing down as you let the strap of your gown fall off of your shoulder, exposing more skin. “You can take it off. If you want.” You tell him, now wanting to feel his hands on your skin. You need it more than you need oxygen right this moment.

Dieter exhales loudly, striding over to you to grab the hips of your gown. He freezes for a moment, looking into your eyes seriously. “If there is something you don’t like, you tell me.” He orders you. “I despise when someone endures my touch. If you want it to stop, you say the word. I will never force it.” He’s heard too many stories of husband’s ignoring their wife’s crying as they fuck, he will never be one of those men.

“Since when have I ever let you do anything I don’t like?” You trade breathlessly but he offers you a rare, serious look. “I will tell you.” You promise, looking into those stupidly pretty eyes. His fingers slowly work the gown up your legs until he grips the majority of it in his hands. Slowly, too slowly, he lifts it up and over your head, exposing your body to the cool air of the room and his heated gaze.

You are gorgeous, even more than he had imagined over the past two weeks. He groans, watching your nipples tighten in the air and he doesn’t hesitate. Ducking his head down and eagerly attaching his lips to one to start suckling.

You gasp, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair, messing up the slick look. “Oh, oh Dieter.” You whimper, arching your back into his mouth. His hands grip your back and you feel your stomach twist with arousal.

He groans and sucks, working the tip into a hardened bud then bites down on it hard enough to make you gasp, your fingers tugging on his hair. Letting off to lave it with his tongue, he smirks as he looks up at you and winks, sucking the nipple back into his mouth again to continue to worry it with his teeth. One hand sliding down to your ass to give it a rough squeeze.

You feel like he’s everywhere. His hot mouth on your chest, his hands on your breast and ass. It’s overwhelming and yet it’s not enough. Your cunt practically drips - something you’ve never experienced before - from his touch and you need more from him. You also want to touch him. You grip his upper arms, caressing the skin before sliding your hands down his back. “Dieter, please. I need - I need more.”

He groans, pulling off your tit with a pop, loving that you are already telling him what you need. Certainly not a wallflower. Good, he hates boring people in bed. His hand slides down your stomach and he cups the curls over your cunt, smirking when he feels the slickness. “I’m going to lay you down and bury my face right here.” He promises, tapping a finger against your clit.

His fingers are so much thicker than your own. When he taps your clit, your knees buckle and you lean against him for support. Chuckling, he grabs the back of your thighs, grunting as he lifts you to deposit you on the bed. You lay there, naked and waiting for him as he slides his hands from your ankles to your thighs, spreading them wide so he can see your cunt for the first time. Right before he dives in.

You cry out, unable to believe how good this feels. Way better than your feeble fingers rubbing your clit. You fumble to sit up on your elbows watching Dieter's now unruly curls as he sucks on your clit. "Oh God." You pant, tilting your head back and you just let him touch you. It's unlike anything you've ever felt before.

He turns to lapping at your cunt, chuckling as your body relaxes and your legs spread wider, falling open around his shoulders. “Good, isn’t it?” He coos, sliding his tongue up and down your slit and circling the small hole that he was going to be filling soon.

You shudder in pleasure, your mind blank as you focus on his tongue, on his words, on his entire being. It's intoxicating. "So - so good." You pant, closing your eyes. "Please Dieter. I need - I don't know what I need but I need something." You whine breathily.

He knows what you need. His fingers replace his tongue, circling your entrance before one thick finger slides inside you. He doesn’t want you to hate fucking, wants you to enjoy this. Even if he has no intention of staying faithful. He eases inside your walls and groans before he flicks his tongue over your clit when your walls squeeze him.

You moan, unable to stop the sound escaping your lips. “Oh shit.” You curse, body practically shaking as he thrusts his finger in and out of you while flicking his tongue over your clit. “Yes! Yes!” You sob, so close to the edge. He smirks against your slick flesh before sucking on the bundle of nerves, sending you over the edge with a cry of his name.

Dieter shudders at the pretty sound of you falling apart. Groaning into your cunt and working you through it with his hand and his tongue. Wanting to make sure plenty of the arousal pouring out of you eased his entry into your body. Only when he hears your small whine does he pull away, smug and honestly stunned at how sexy that was.

You slump onto the bed, chest heaving as you stare at the ceiling, unable to believe that you just felt pleasure like that. Your hands are shaking a little as you reach out to run your fingers through his locks. “Thank you” you sigh, closing your eyes as you prepare yourself for the next step. You’ve heard horror stories of the pain but you’ve never heard of the pleasure you just felt. Only finding that in the sordid erotica that you snuck into your room.

“You’re welcome.” Dieter slides off the bed and stands up, unbuttoning his trousers and pushing them down along with his drawers. His hard cock bounces and he reaches into the pocket of the trousers for the condom before he tosses them down. “Now comes the really fun part.” He chuckles as he unrolls the protection and slides it over his length. “The church looks down on preventing pregnancy with these, but I don’t care what they think.” He tells you. “But it will keep you safe.”

You gulp, eyeing his cock. The first one you’ve ever seen. “Goodness.” You breathe out, making him chuckle as he kneels on the bed.

“Are you ready?” He asks, making you inhale deeply to prepare yourself for the pain.

“Ye- yes.” You nod, knowing this will be the only time you’ll have to endure this. You won’t have to have sex with your husband again and you’re not sure if you’re sad or relived about that. “I’m ready.” You tell him, looking into his dark eyes.

He finds himself wanting to reassure you, to chase the slight tinge of fear from your pretty eyes. Leaning down, he kisses you. Keeping it slow at first before he feels you relax and slides his tongue along the seam of your lips like he did in front of the minister and smirking slightly when you open up to let him inside. Distracting you while he lowers his body to yours and settles between your thighs.

You moan into his mouth, loving how he possesses your tongue, until you feel him pushing into you. “Relax.” He orders into your mouth, kissing along your jaw as he slowly works his cock inside of you. You try to relax, letting him slowly stretch you out and you prepare yourself for the pain.

When he is halfway inside you, he stops moving. Looking down at you and reaching up to stroke the side of your face. “Relax.” He orders again. “I will make sure you aren’t ripped in two.” He jokes, pressing his lips to yours again. “I’ve done this a lot. I’ll make sure it’s good for you. But you stop me if it’s not.”

"Okay." You breathe against his lips, reaching for his hand for some assurance, and he squeezes. "Just exhale for me." He orders, making you exhale and when you do, he thrusts into you the rest of the way, breaking your maidenhead.

"Oh shit." You choke, trying to ignore the flash of pain.

"I'm sorry." He kisses along your jaw, making you whimper as you calm your racing heart. He stays still, knowing you need some time to adjust. He knows the feeling first hand. Having needed a moment himself when he was taking a man. Throbbing inside you, he murmurs praises into your skin and tries to soothe you as your walls flutter around him, virgin no more.

You finally relax around him, sinking into the soft mattress below with a whimper when the pain turns into something akin to pleasure. “You can move.” You tell him, stroking his back as he hovers over you.

The pain ebbs away, replaced by the pleasure you’ve read about. Your body relaxes and you lift your thighs onto his hips, sending him deeper inside of you. “Oh God.” You pant, “it’s - no wonder you want to fuck anything with a pulse.” You joke, trying to ignore the fact that your heart is pounding.

Chuckling, he ducks his head down and nips at your throat while he gives another smaller thrusts. “Now you see.” He pants, sliding a hand down to grip one of your thighs, lifting it high, starting to build up a steady pace. He doesn’t want to go too rough too fast with you, something that should concern him since he wouldn’t be opposed to that with another lover. But you are still so very pure.

You gasp when he hits something deep inside of you, making your walls flutter around him. Noticing his smug chuckle, you roll your eyes. “You don’t need to be so cocky.” You realize your phrasing when he thrusts deep again, adding in a smirk. “Shut up.” You slap his chest even though he doesn’t say anything. “Faster. I want you to - to fuck me.” You plead, not wanting lovemaking when you know you’ll never have him like that. You want him to wreck you physically to preserve your heart.

The fact that you are talking so filthy is incredibly sexy to Dieter. Making him moan your name and lean back. Pushing away so he can get better leverage for thrusting. “Fuck.” He hisses, ramping up the pace so that his hips slap against your thighs. “You want it rougher? Want me to make you cream all over my cock and scream my name?”

Your mouth falls open at the new speed he’s thrusting inside of you. “Yes! Yes! Oh - oh fuck.” You writhe beneath him, closing your eyes as you give yourself over to the sensations building inside of you. So intense and unlike anything you’ve ever known. Part of you never wants this to end. The other part of you wants this over with so you don’t miss it. You can’t miss what you never had. Reaching down, you start to rub your clit, driven by instinct as your orgasm builds within you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Dieter can’t believe that you are rubbing your clit, batting your hand away so he can do it himself. “Fucking dirty.” He moans happily, lost in the tight sensation of your cunt. “Pinch your nipples baby, it will feel so good.” He orders, driving his hips forward over and over again to fill you up.

You follow his order, overwhelmed with all of the sensations as you reach up to pinch your nipples. “Oh God Dieter. Just like that.” You whine, rocking your hips up into his touch. You’re so close. Just a few more thrusts of his - “oh fuck.” You pant, a moan of his name escaping your lips as you clamp down on his cock.

You are so fucking tight. Dieter clenches his teeth together and has to put more power into his thrusts to keep rocking into you. Feeling the way your cunt grips his cock like he’s never felt before. It’s perfect. You’re perfect.

You have never felt anything like this. You feel like you’re in heaven. Your eyes flutter closed and Dieter works you through it, making your chest heave as you try to catch your breath.

Now he’s focused on his own pleasure. Grunting and rocking into you harder as he chases his release. Overwhelmed by how good you feel, he gives five or six more thrusts before he is burying his cock deep, groaning out your name while he fills the condom with his cum.

You watch him when he cums, his groan of your name has you moaning softly and part of you wishes you could feel him cum inside of you. You quickly push that aside, relaxing beneath him as you allow yourself to relish this moment. The one and only time you’ll have intimacy with your husband.

“Holy shit.” Dieter pants. “Holy shit.” Closing his eyes for a moment, he tries to catch his breath while his softening cock still throbs inside you. “That was-“ he realizes that he needs to ask you that, opening his eyes and gripping the base of the condom as he gently pulls out of you. “How was it?” He asks, flopping down beside you on the bed.

You shift to look at him, sitting up on your elbow. “It was…beyond anything I expected. I didn’t - I thought I would be in pain the entire time. That’s what your mother told me.” You reveal, biting your lip and you know he has fulfilled his duty. You know you shouldn’t let yourself believe that he wants anything beyond this night.

“My father must have been shit at fucking.” He scoffs and shakes his head, a little disturbed at the mental image. “Then if you are agreeable, maybe this can happen again sometime.” He offers nonchalantly like he isn’t already imagining taking you again.

You shift to sit up, your body aching a little and you look back at him. “I suppose I shall leave that up to you. My bed shall remain empty until you decide to seek pleasure from your wife. Until then, I’ll let you continue your escapades.” You try to not sound bitter about it, knowing you’ll never be enough for him. You stand up and make your way over to the wash bowl, cleaning yourself up before you shrug on your dressing gown.

Dieter frowns, having expected a bit more enthusiasm in your response. He huffs as he pulls the condom off to clean and stands. “Well… I will let you rest.” He offers as he pulls his trousers up but leaves them unbuttoned for his journey back to his room. “Goodnight, wife.”

You watch him go without saying anything, wishing he had stayed, patting the bed for you to come back to him and holding you as you fall asleep. Shaking your head, you remind yourself that this is an arrangement, just an arrangement. Then why do you immediately dream of him when you close your eyes?

****

Dieter hisses, closing his eyes as he tries to focus on the mouth around his cock. “Fuck yes.” He groans, clenching his stomach to try to help get him harder.

It’s been a week. One week married to you and he’s going insane. Unable to come to the brothel before tonight due to the fact it would look bad if he were spotted out and about when he’s supposed to be with you, he’s been miserable. Thinking about you, wanting you again. He tries to chalk it up to just needing to get laid, but right now, with Elise’s mouth around his cock, he’s as soft as he had been when she pulled him out of his trousers.

You sigh, staring into the mirror as you get ready for bed. You know Dieter went to the brothel. He’s been avoiding you all week, holed up in his study rehearsing his lines and you can hear him late at night muttering to himself in his bedroom. You feel so lonely despite spending your days getting introduced to the ladies of society. Functions and afternoon teas…it’s honestly exhausting. You stare at yourself for a moment, wondering if you made the right decision. You haven’t had time to write, too busy with Dieter’s mother and sister in law. You’re resigned to a life of boring small talk and frilly dresses.

“What’s the matter, baby?” Elise coos, looking up at him in confusion as she pulls off cock and starts stroking him. “You never have this issue.”

Dieter huffs and shakes his head, pulling his hips back to make her let go of his cock so he can do it himself. “Fuck. I don’t know.” He knows, the problem is that she’s not you. He wants his wife.

You should go to bed, it’s late, but you can’t. Your mind is too preoccupied with thoughts of Dieter. You feel like you’ve both made progress and gone backwards. At breakfast, you laugh at the gossip that’s circulating in the daily papers, guessing who is fucking who and discussing the banal events you both have to endure until he is distracted by his script for his latest role.

The evenings you have dinner in silence. The atmosphere is heavy as the cutlery scraps against the china plates. You wonder what happens to make him go silent like that. Part of you wants him to stay after dinner, to talk to you about his day and let you help him with his lines. However, as soon as his knife and fork go down, he’s leaving. Making some excuse but you know where he’s going…to the brothel. It hurts that you aren’t good enough. Every night you go to bed, trying to stop yourself from wanting him when you knew the arrangement from the get go. Tonight is no different.

You scream when your bedroom door swings open, Dieter stalking in and you stand up from your vanity, confused as he practically growls at you. “What’s wrong?” You ask.

“What’s wrong? You. Are. Intolerable.” He hisses, grabbing your upper arms before he surges forward to press his lips to yours. You’re confused but melt into the kiss, leaning against his chest as you let his tongue slide into your mouth.

Dieter isn’t patient or gentle. He’s demanding, harshly stroking your tongue with his and relishing the bite of your teeth against his lips. Letting go of your arms to wrap them around your body and pull you against him tight. His cock immediately responds, hardening instantly to press against his trousers and your stomach while he groans into your mouth.

He groans and pulls away to sweep your nightgown up and over your body. Tossing it aside and ripping his jacket off and throwing it down beside it. “Insufferable.” He growls leaning down and biting your neck before he licks the mark. He rips off a few of his shirt buttons, sending them clattering to the floor around you in his haste. He doesn’t pay attention, too busy trying to get undressed to get to you.

You lay down on the bed, watching him curse as he kicks off his trousers along with his undergarments, his hard cock bouncing and you are lost for words as he kneels on the bed to hover over you. “Dieter. I don’t understand.” You say, confusion is clear on your face.

“You never will.” He says dramatically, “just - fuck. You’re fucking excruciating.” He hisses, making you scoff in disbelief.

“Me? You’re the insufferable one.”

Dieter huffs, unable to wait too long, so instead of his tongue, you get his fingers. “You are driving me to madness.” He accuses you as he spits on his fingers and pushes them into your cunt.

You cry out as his thick fingers stretch you out. As much pleasure as you feel, you feel angry at him. Blaming you for whatever he’s going through when you’ve done nothing but be a good little wife, doing what he wanted you to do. You narrow your eyes at him even as you start to wet his fingers with your arousal. “Driving you - you to madness? You are the - the most aggravating man I’ve ever known.” You mean it, but in a different way than he’d expect. You buck up into his hand when his thumb presses against your clit.

He scoffs, rolling his eyes at you. “Yes I’m horrible, a veritable monster.” He keeps his fingers curling up inside of you and pressing deep, groaning when he feels your cunt start to weep for him. “Make you my wife, give you everything you could ever want.” He feels a spurt of pre-cum dribble out of the tip when your walls clench down around him. “While you haunt me.”

You moan when his fingers hit something incredible. “Give me everything-? You have no idea. You don’t - Lord above. You are odious. A selfish man. No wonder you didn’t have a wife until you conned me into marrying you.” Your words are venom, fuelled by frustration, but your cunt drips around his fingers.

He huffs, leaning down and biting one of your breasts before he laps at your nipple. “Didn’t want a wife.” He reminds you. “I was happy without one.” He nips your skin again. “Until I married you.”

You shake your head, thinking he means that he is unhappy. “Well, I’m sorry I ruined your happiness.” You spit, grabbing him to pull him towards you. He falls on top of you, his fingers pulled out of your cunt, and you push on his chest, wanting him to lay down.

Tonight, you’re going to take control. You’re sick of him messing with you, using you when he wants something. Tonight, you’re going to use him. He gets the message, laying on his back and you quickly straddle him. Reaching underneath you, you grip his cock, positioning him at your entrance before you sink down onto his length.

His moan is loud, filthy as you take him. Tossing his head back in pleasure at the tight grip you have on him. “Fuck- oh fuck, that is what I’m talking about.” His eyes close and his fingers fly to your hips, not worrying about the fact that he’s not wearing a condom. He’s not thinking about anything but the way you feel around him. This is what he’s craved and he hates it, but he needs it. It’s also making him even hotter that you took control. Thrusting up deeper into you, he lets out a choked moan. “Fuck, move.” He begs you, needing to see you bounce on his cock.

You act on instinct, rocking your hips tentatively while looking down at his blissed out face. You grind down and he hisses, fingers digging into your hips even more. “You’re - you’re loathsome.” You pant, starting to lift up onto his cock now that you’ve gotten into a rhythm. Leaning forward to get a better angle as you rock your hips, his thick cock hitting deep. You reach for his hands on your hips, bringing them above his head. You know he could break your hold but you hover over him, rocking back onto his cock as your chest presses against his.

He moans in agreement, he is loathsome. One week married to you, one night between your thighs and he can’t even get hard for someone else. Instead of answering, he plants his feet on the bed and thrusts up, bouncing you on his cock and loving the way that your breasts rub against his chest. He doesn’t break the hold you have on him, enjoying the way you are using him. He never expected you to take charge and it’s intoxicating.

“Fuck.” You curse, nails digging into the back of his hands and you grind back onto him as he thrusts up into you. Your head hovering over his, you meet his dark gaze and surge forward to press your lips to his. You feel in control and out of control at the same time. Unable to progress the feelings surging through you. You want him. Lord, you want him, but he doesn’t want you. You are an accessory, something to play with when he’s bored. Something to show off. It kills you but you slide your tongue into his mouth, trying to silence your thoughts and focus on the pleasure.

Dieter whines into your mouth, his tongue eagerly meeting yours and curling around it. He loves this, God, he loves this. You are being so aggressive with him and while he normally is the one in control with a woman, he loves watching you use him. His virginal wife riding his cock like a pro at the brothel.

You grind back onto him, your walls fluttering around the cock that is surging in and out of you as you try to hold your own. “Shit. I - it feels so good.” You pant against his chin, his lips kissing your nose and that makes your heart clench. “Dieter.” You whine, the coarse hair at the base of his cock rubbing your clit in his angle and you are so close. “I - oh God.” You pant, walls fluttering before they clamp down on him. Soaking him with your cum as you cry out against his jaw.

It feels so much better without the condom. Still that barrier of protection not being there doesn’t register with him, too caught up in the pleasure. “God yes.” He moans, eyes rolling back at how tight you get, your cum dripping down into his pubic hair and soaking it before it drips down to his balls. “Fuck, make me cum, I’m so close.” He begs.

All you can think about is making him cum. Rocking back onto him, your thighs shake with the effort and your cunt throbs in the aftermath of your orgasm, but you power through, wanting to watch him fall apart because of you. With a sudden surge of energy, you rock onto him, ass slapping his thighs as you take him deep within you. “Cum for me, darling.” You murmur, biting down on his jaw.

Whimpering, Dieter falls over the edge. You’ve taken your hands away from his, letting them go so he grabs onto your hip, thrusting up and pushing his cock just as deep as he can get as he begins to spill inside you. Long, pulsing hot ropes of cum paint your walls while he pants out your name in gasping bliss.

You collapse into his chest, letting him ride out his high and you sigh in pleasure. Your body feels tingly and you are in a haze of bliss, not yet thinking of the consequences of what just happened. His body relaxes beneath you, cock still buried deep as it softens, and you rest your head on his shoulder, breathing him in.

Now he is relaxed, his arms sliding around you as the orgasm fogs his brain and he murmurs soft sounds, turning his head to kiss your forehead and stroke your sweaty back. “God, I- can’t believe you rode me like that.” He gives a small chuckle, twitching inside you as he thinks about it.

You fluster, suddenly embarrassed at your actions, the way you took control of him. You giggle, “I don’t know where it came from. I - I have never - it was pure instinct.” You confess, keeping your face buried in his shoulder so you don’t have to look at him.

“I didn’t mind it.” He hums, his hand still stroking your back. “All I could think of was your cunt around my cock and not how I should be furious at you for what you’ve done.”

You frown, sitting up to look at him, his cock falling from your body as his seed begins to drip onto his crotch. “What have I done?” You inquire, feeling defensive. “I assure you I have done nothing to offend you. I have performed my wifely duties, acted like a good socialite so no one gets suspicious. Pray tell what it is that has offended you so?”

Dieter huffs, not meaning to have said that out loud. He narrows his eyes to cover up his embarrassment and gestures to your gorgeous body still sitting on him. “This- you- you’ve entranced me or something.” He grumbles. “One time between your thighs and my cock shrivels up for anyones but you.” He pouts like it’s the worst thing in the world, which it is to a man who had not been interested in monogamy.

You can’t help but feel offended. He’s blaming you for his attraction to you. His wife. You shuffle off of him, standing up on shaky legs. “I sincerely apologize sir for my lack of consideration when it comes to your dislike of monogamy. I was not there in your brothel dictating who your prick should and should not get hard for. Perhaps we should not indulge in a night like tonight again, lest it continue your…issue. You will be able to resume fucking whoever you want. Now, I am going to clean up. I wish to be alone now.” You try not to choke out the last words as you open the door to make your way to the bathroom. The man infuriates you, mocks you with his intermittent attraction to you before he goes to find pleasure in others. You won’t allow him in your body again, you can’t. Your heart can’t take it.

Dieter frowns, wondering what the hell just happened. He admitted that he was unable to sleep with anyone else and you are mad at him about it? Most wives would be thrilled. Huffing in anger, he climbs out of your bed and scowls as he grabs his clothes to storm back to his own suite, slamming the door in a fit. Cursing himself for choosing a wife that confounds him.

You sit in silence at the breakfast table, your toast now cold as your head hurts. You barely slept last night. Replaying what happened between you and Dieter over and over again. He blamed you for his lack of desire for his whores. It angers you that he blames you. How can you possibly control his libido? He barely has any desire for you. Last night was a fluke. A way to work out the frustration between both of you after a week of politeness and faux consideration. He drives you mad with his rambling and constant snorting of cocaine. The man has far too many habits that aren’t marriage friendly but you agreed to put up with them all.

You had agreed to marry him to allow yourself opportunities that you have failed to explore during the beginning of your married life. No longer will you make that mistake. You plan to invite a tutor over to review your work, someone you can pay to tell you if your writing is worth continuing. Dieter grunts as he enters the dining room, looking as bad as you do with dark circles under his eyes. You don’t say good morning, not wanting to ruffle him. You’ll be the wife he wanted. Silent and there for display purposes only.

Sitting down, Dieter reaches for the coffee that had been immediately set at his elbow. He grunts his thanks and takes a blissful sip. After he had left you, he had gone down to his study and gotten high again, upset that his wife had rejected his admission of faithfulness and seemingly wanted to leave him twisting in the wind. He can’t get hard for anyone else and the one person who makes him hard just sitting in her morning dress, has him straining at his breeches even now.

****

“Welcome Mr. Jones.” You greet the tutor you were recommended by some of the ladies at tea. They hired him for literature studies and that’s what you hired him for without telling him the real reason. Now that he is in the parlor, you realize that maybe the ladies didn’t hire him for lessons at all. He’s handsome, a little older than you and his sparkling green eyes are unmissable.

“Thank you Mrs. Bravo.” He responds softly, making you feel at ease.

You order tea and are soon seated at the table, your papers in front of you. “I fear I brought you here under false pretenses. I do not require literature studies. I would like you to read my novel. I have a mere four chapters but want to get your thoughts on it to see if it is worth pursuing.”

Mr. Jones looks at you then at the papers in surprise. He rarely knows of any society lady who spends her time writing. They don’t even pen their own letters, preferring to have someone else do it. “I- this is unexpected. Do you - you wish for me to review your work so far?” He asks, trying to gather his own thoughts.

“Yes. I’d like that very much.” You tell him, worrying your lower lip as you think he won’t accept.

“Very well. Let us dive in. Tell me about your novel, Mrs. Bravo.” He orders, making you grin and tell him to call you by your first name. “Then call him Caleb.” He insists and you nod, smiling at the fact that you are finally making progress.

Dieter enters the townhouse, the practice from the play had gone well, but still he was dissatisfied. One of the new actresses had very blatantly hit on him, having heard of his reputation and wanting to have the experience. She had done nothing for him. She was beautiful, he could admit, but she hadn’t even made his cock twitch, even when her breasts were in his face. The butler greets him, taking his coat. “My lady is in the drawing room with her literature tutor, Mr. Jones.”

Dieter’s brows shoot up, this being the first that he has heard of this. “Thank you. Bring another tea cup in for me, will you?” He asks, turning and heading towards the room where his willful wife is entertaining.

You laugh at Mr. Jones, enjoying his story about the time he was tutoring Mrs. Jefferson - an older lady who can barely tell you what time of day it is due to her daily indulgences in sherry. "Goodness...and you got paid for that?" You chuckle just as Dieter enters the room. You stiffen a little, it's been a week since the night you were together. He has avoided you like the plague, spending all of his time at the theater with his fellow actors. You know you shouldn't feel hurt - that was the arrangement - but you miss him. You never imagined you'd say that. Caleb stands up when Dieter enters the room.

Dieter strides up to the table, nodding to the man who had stood but walks over to your chair and leans down to drop a kiss on your cheek. It’s childish, but he wants to make sure this man knows you are his wife. “I am not interrupting, am I?” He asks, knowing that he is and not caring a bit.

You put a stiff smile on your face as he sits down beside you. “Of course not dearest. Cal- Mr. Jones and I were going over the first few chapters of the novel I am writing. He has been a great help already in helping me with my plot line and grammar.” You inform Dieter, voice a little clipped.

“Fantastic.” He didn’t miss the small mistake, the beginning of the man’s Christian name and it irks him. “My wife loves her hobbies and I want her to indulge.” He tells Mr. Jones with a polite smile. The tension in the room is thick but the maid soon brings his tea cup so he can join you, settling in for the duration of the visit.

“Then we shall make sure she indulges.” Caleb responds to your husband with a smile just as polite even if his words step over the line.

You clear your throat, picking up a piece of paper you scribbled on to hand it to Dieter. “We made several edits. Would you mind reading to see what you think? It would be helpful to have another opinion.” You try to involve him, wanting this tension to dispel.

Dieter takes the paper and looks over at Mr. Jones and feels a little victorious as he looks back down to start to read. His brow shoots up, impressed by how thought out this is, amazed that you have come up with a plot that is both intriguing and entertaining. “This is really pleasing.” He admits after a moment, eyes finding yours. “I would read this.”

You bite your bottom lip, trying to smother your smile at his praise. Taking the piece of paper from his hand and his fingers brush yours. “Thank you. There’s a long way to go.” You reply, a little bashful before you turn to look at Caleb. “I shall be hiring you for several more sessions. I want to ensure that there are no plot holes.” You tell Mr. Jones, knowing that discussing the book with him will assist you in your writing.

Dieter wants to argue that you should discuss the book with him, but he says nothing. Wired by the innocent touch of your hands has him feeling jittery as he brings his cup up to his lips to cover the turmoil he is going through. He has never been jealous of lovers, but yet he is jealous of you spending time with this Mr. Jones. He is far too handsome for Dieter’s piece of mind.

You finish your tea and bid goodbye to Mr. Jones, arranging to see him in a few days after you’ve edited the chapter. “I think he will be of great help, don’t you think?” You ask Dieter once the man has left. He doesn’t say anything, just hums. “It will be nice to finally have time to write my novel. Those silly debutante meetings have me running around discussing ribbons and silk.” You roll your eyes, regretting getting tied up with the committee. What do you know about debutantes? Apparently, it’s a role for a newly married woman. That’s what Sally Harris told you at least. “I best leave you to…whatever it is that you do. Good afternoon Dieter.” You say once you’ve gathered your papers, making your way back to your room.

Unhappy with the way that went, Dieter locks himself in his study for the rest of the day, not even joining you at dinner. This need he has for you is getting ridiculous and once the household has gone to bed, he finds himself outside the door that leads to your chambers, tapping on it like a puppy begging to be let inside out of the rain….. You don’t answer.

A few weeks pass by, Mr. Jones drops by every few days to assist with your writing and that’s what you find yourself doing at night until the quill is dropping from your hand and your fingers ache. You and Dieter practically lead separate lives. Barely meeting up to have dinner and sometimes you have to go to events to make an appearance, that’s when you spend most of your time with the ladies of the city while Dieter does God knows what. He wanted a wife, a figure in his life for these kinds of events. Nothing more. Despite the fact that the man haunts your dreams, you tell yourself that the time you had sex mean nothing to him.

Dieter groans, looking over at the door between your rooms. He’s checked it again, only to find it locked. Flopping down into a chair like a petulant teenager as he pouts about being locked out of his wife’s room. He’s gone back to the brothel, only to end up embarrassed and unsatisfied. Even getting fucked by Noah hadn’t made his cock stiffen, telling him that he was truly doomed as he left the establishment for the last time. Taking to just jerking off thinking about you, just steps away, but unable to touch you by your own declaration.

You sigh when you hear him rattle the door again. You’ve locked him out, unable to handle another night in his arms without truly being his. That damn man. He has these moments that make you believe he truly wants you. Like when he gets that soft look in his eyes after you share a new segment of your chapter with him. Or when he catches your handkerchief after you drop it. All of those small gestures make you fall for a man you can never have. That’s why you keep yourself locked away from him. Just like he wanted it. With a sigh, you decide you can’t sleep and make your way down to the kitchen to warm up some milk. Maybe that will help you rid yourself of thoughts of Dieter.

Dieter huffs, pulling himself away from the door and leaves his room. Intent on heading down to his study to work on the lines for the play. Something felt off about them but he couldn’t put his finger on what. They were delivered poorly every rehearsal and he knows that if he just found the right way to rephrase them, it would work.

You relax, taking a sip of the warm milk you just heated up as you sit on the kitchen counter. You know you shouldn’t be down here, probably should’ve told one of the cooks to do it for you, but you refuse to be like those demanding wives. You didn’t grow up in society and you refuse to have someone do something you could easily do yourself. There’s footsteps and you worry that you’ve woken someone up until you see Dieter walk into the kitchen. “I’m surprised you know where the kitchen is.” You make your presence known.

Jumping slightly, Dieter exhales when he sees you sitting at the counter with a cup. “I even know how to open the ice box.” He quips, sending you a small smirk. “I know it’s surprising. A Bravo knowing how to get his own milk.”

“Wow.” You tease, “your father would be having a heart attack. His son? Fending for himself? Perish the thought.” You snort and take another sip of your milk. “No coke down here I’m afraid.” You tell him, wondering what he is looking for. Unless he is trying to find the chocolate cook hides for her desserts.

“Damn.” He snaps his fingers in disappointment and then moves over to the counter. Opening a cock and peering inside. “I know there are cookies around here.” He mutters to himself and slides it back into place and reaches for another.

You point to the jar on the side where you know the cookies are kept. He eagerly rushes over, opening it and bringing the jar over to you before he sits down on the counter beside you, offering you a cookie. “Thank you.” You murmur, taking a cookie that pairs well with your milk.

Munching happily on the cookie, Dieter watches you. Admiring the way that even in your nightgown and robe, you look elegant. “Do you dip your cookie in milk or drink it on the side?” He asks, tilting his head to the side.

You smirk as you dip the cookie in the milk. “I like how it instantly brings me back to my childhood. I miss it sometimes, the innocence. When my mother…” You trail off, voice cracking a little, “my mother would make cookies for us around the holidays when we would have sugar.” You reveal, a soft smile on your face when you think about your mother.

Dieter watches you, thinking you look angelic as you think about your childhood memories. “This Christmas, we will have to have Cook make your cookies.” He hums, wanting you to have something to look forward to. “Maybe we can hand them out to kids and have them enjoy your memory of your mother.”

You nod, feeling a little sad that you aren’t going to be able to make them for your own children one day, even though it wasn’t part of your plan. “I’d like that. Thank you.” You tell him softly, wondering why, under the blanket of night, he is being so kind to you. “Why did you come down here?” You ask, turning to look at him after you set your mug down.

Sighing, he swallows his bite of cookie and looks at it, as if contemplating the sweet. “My play - the lines feel forced and I need to make sure they flow.” He explains. “I am going to work on them, see if I can rewrite them to make it fit the scene.”

You frown, “do you want me to help? I know I’m not an actor but I can help you find the right voice if you want? I am a writer after all.” You tease, gently nudging him.

Latching onto the idea, if just to spend a little more time with you, he nods quickly. “I would appreciate it.” He tells you quickly. “You will see what I mean by the lines don’t feel right when you read it.”

You shift to slide off of the counter, “let’s go to your study and go over your script.” You tell him. Quickly washing up your mug, you turn towards him and offer him a soft smile.

It’s strange, this need to seek time with you. Feeling almost bashful is foreign for him, but his hands clench and then he wipes them on his trousers nervously as he leads you to his study. You’ve spent more time here than he had before you got married, but now, it seems as though it’s become his space. “The pages are here.” He rushes forward to collect them and hand them to you. “I’ve circled the areas I just hate.”

You hum, reading through the sections he circled before you snort in amusement. “The reason why you are having trouble is because these sections all talk about love. Which is something you’ve notoriously struggled with to this day. You just have to think about something you like a lot. Not even necessarily love. Just like and imagine that when you say these lines. It should help you with the emotion.” You hand it back to him. “Do you want him to read the other lines so you can try it out? I’m not an actor but I can attempt to help.”

Dieter scoffs, slightly insulted by your view on him. He’s loved people before. You make him sound like he is just a wretch. He decides to take your advice though, setting the papers down and taking a breath. He closes his eyes and when they open, they are filled with hazy adoration. “My sweet, my purpose for waking, please do not send me away.” He begs, stepping towards you and reaching for your hand. “I do not think I could bear another rejection on my tattered heart.”

You stare at the paper, swallowing down the lump in your throat. “I cannot endure your madness anymore. By morn you love me, by night you loathe my very presence. I cannot tolerate such back and forth. You need to go and decide what you want. If you return and decide it is I who you love, then my heart is yours. If you do not return, I shall have my answer.”

Dieter shakes his head. “It is not a matter of love.” He clears his throat and swallows, shooting you a nervous look. “It is a matter of being enough. My love will not put food in your belly or a roof over your head. I am without.” He sighs and lowers his head. “No one could love that.”

You act on instinct, wondering if the actors will follow these moves, as you reach up to cup his cheek after glancing down at the lines. “I could love like that. I do not desire a cottage by the sea, enough food in my belly to make me sick, nor do I require jewels shiny enough to rival the stars. I want you. Only you. Nothing else. If you want to leave, then go, but you simply have to know that it was never a question of what you have. I am here because of my love for you.”

Dieter shudders and for one moment, he thinks that you aren’t just reading the lines. Or maybe it’s him discovering that he doesn’t want you to be just reading them. His stomach twists and he can’t help but lean into your hand. “I love you.” He professes softly. “Everything that I am, everything I will be is for you. Be sure of it. I will make you proud to be mine. I will make you a life to envy.”

You stare into those dark eyes, unable to believe he’s that good an actor. Your heart thumps into your chest and you can’t stop yourself from surging forward to press your lips to his.

He groans, immediately wrapping his arms around you and kissing you passionately. Not with the fury of the last kiss, but hunger. Need lacing the desperation of his lips. Believing for a moment that you actually want to kiss him.

You drop the papers to the floor, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him even closer. You press yourself against him, a clawing need flaring to life inside of you for him. You want your husband.

He feels like he can’t get enough of you. Like he needs this more than he needs to breathe. His tongue sliding along your lips to bed for entrance and he turns the both of you, pressing you up against his desk.

You gasp when he pushes you up against his desk and he takes advantage of that to slide his tongue into your mouth. “Shit, Dieter.” You moan when he kisses along your neck, his hard cock pressed against your hip and you are desperate to touch him. You reach between you to squeeze his cock through his trousers, wanting to hear him moan your name.

He pants your name, already hard and throbbing for you after just a simple kiss. He would cum if you kept squeezing him. Pulling his hands around to tear at your robe, his other hand slides under your nightgown, groaning when he finds you bare, no drawers underneath.

You are about to give in, to let him touch you again, to let him fuck you. Until you remind yourself that he’s going to brothels and only wants you when he is bored. You push him away, making him stumble as you lower your nightgown. “What the hell? Did I do something wrong?” Dieter asks, half worried he overstepped while another half of him is beyond horny and frustrated.

“We can’t keep doing this.” You hiss, adjusting your dressing gown.

“Can’t keep doing what?” He huffs, raking a hand through his wild hair. “Kissing? We’re married, we can do whatever we want.” He insists, taking a step towards you again, wanting to convince you.

Holding a hand up, you shake your head at him, stopping him in his tracks. “You can’t just use me when you are bored.”

Dieter stares at you, dumbfounded that you are serious about not letting him touch you. “It’s that tutor, isn’t it?” He hisses, narrowing his eyes at you. “Mr. Jones? Is he why you don’t want me to touch you?”

Your jaw drops, unable to believe what he is insinuating. “Are you- do you truly believe that I - you know what I find insanely unfair? The fact that you can go out and fuck whoever you want. Man or woman. You can do whatever you want because you’re a man. Yet when I - a feeble woman - want to enjoy myself, it is forbidden.”

Dieter clenches his jaw, “you know what the agreement was. My life was going to remain the same while you managed to achieve things you could not before my last name. All you have to do is remain faithful to me.” He answers you and you shake your head, stepping forward to poke his chest while your heart pounds.

“And where is my faithfulness? We took a vow before God and you have broken it who knows how many times? You are allowed freedom and I am to merely simper and wait for your return from your whorehouses. I will not be a bystander in my own marriage. Damn you for what you have done to me.” You growl, poking him again.

“I don’t-” Dieter barely manages to speak before your eyes roll into the back of your head and you collapse before him.

Fear makes Dieter’s blood run cold, leaping forward to catch you before you can strike your head against the sharp wooden edge of his desk as he shouts your name to no avail. You are lifeless in his arms. His next shout is more of a scream. “Harold!” With a grunt and stumbling slightly, he manages to lift you into his arms. “Fetch the doctor!”

The butler bursts into the study in his nightclothes, eyes wide. “Right away sir!”

Dieter rushes out of the room and towards the stairs. “Come on, wake up, wake up!” He huffs as he flies up them, adrenaline and fear giving him the strength to make it seem easy. All he can think is that you will be okay once you are in your bed and the doctor sees you.

The entire household is soon awake and you are still unconscious. Dieter orders two more doctors to the house, all three showing up at the same time, confused that Dieter summoned their colleagues. “I need to know what is wrong. It’s my wife. I won’t take a risk.”

The doctors all understood his concern but one of them asked Dieter if he had obtained a medical degree from Harvard. With a shake of his head, the doctor chuckles humorlessly, and pats Dieter on the back.

“She’s in good hands.” The doctor promises before they disappear into your room. He follows, gripping your hand as he kneels down beside your bed and watches the doctors as they check you over. They all look at each other after several moments before they all nod. Dieter feels like he’s about to rip his hair out, needing to know what the hell is wrong with you. “We all agree Mr. Bravo, that your wife…she is pregnant.”

Dieter’s entire body stiffens, immediately shaking his head in disbelief. “That’s not possible.” He protests before he bites his lip, remembering the night he had stormed into your room and you had ridden him. He hadn’t been wearing a condom. “P-pregnant?” He demands, looking from doctor to doctor. “You are sure? There is nothing else wrong with her? She- she is carrying a child?”

“She likely fainted from hysteria. Was she stressed about something?” One doctor asks Dieter. “I’d guess she’s in the early stages so stress is not advised. She needs to relax and she needs rest. She will wake up soon. When she does, she will need something to eat and drink. Relaxation.” The doctor stresses as he looks at a shocked Dieter.

He nods, head swimming with questions and thoughts. Terrified and yet, he’s somehow….worried that you will be upset. You had told him that not having children wouldn’t be a problem and now you are carrying a child. He swallows and shakes off his stupor, reaching out to shake the doctor’s hands. “Thank you for coming.” He tells them. “Thank you. I - I am grateful for your help. She gave me a fright when she collapsed.”

The doctors go back to their homes, leaving Dieter to sit by your bedside. He holds your hand, unsure of how you’re going to feel when you wake up. Jesus, he has the worst luck. One night, the only night he didn’t wear a condom and he knocked you up. Harold brings him a brandy, setting it down on your nightstand.

“You look like you could use this.” The butler says, feeling how tense Dieter is. Sunlight streams through the curtains when you finally open your eyes, blinking a few times as your head hurts.

Instantly, Dieter is leaning forward, reaching for your hand again. Whispering your name softly to not startle you. “It’s me.” He reassures you, squeezing your hand gently. “You frightened me.” He tries to joke, smiling weakly. “Is that how you win arguments? Fainting?”

It takes you a few moments to remember what happened. You suddenly remember arguing with Dieter, the kiss that came before the arguing and then nothing. You fainted. That’s what he told you. You chuckle weakly, “only way to win arguments against you. Too stubborn to give up and let - let your damn wife win.”

He huffs quietly, smiles a bit wider before it turns serious. Remembering the doctor’s words, he nods. “Well, you are winning all the arguments for now.” He promises. “The doctors said you shouldn’t be stressed.”

You frown at him, confused. “Doctors?”

Dieter gives an embarrassed shrug of his shoulders, his grip on your tightening. “I may have called for three doctors, to make sure that they missed nothing.” He confesses, blushing slightly.

You shake your head at him, unable to believe he called three doctors. “You silly man.” You chuckle, voice still a little weak as you gather your strength. “What did they say?” You ask, wondering what happened.

Dieter bites his lip, looking away from you guiltily for a moment. You will hate him after this. His fingers tense around yours slightly and he lets out a heavy sigh. “I- they said that you are expecting.” He tells you quietly. “The stress made you faint, but you are pregnant.”

Your eyes widen, staring at him in shock. “I- they said that I’m - I’m pregnant?” You croak out, confusion on your face as you wonder how it happened because he wore a condom and you’ve only had sex twice. “Oh.” You gulp, remembering the time he came inside of you. “I see.” You murmur, trying to process the fact that you are pregnant.

“The day- the day you rode me.” Dieter’s traitorous cock twitches. “I wasn’t wearing a condom and I came inside you.” He’s not going to accuse you of having Mr. Jones’s baby. Not when you had been so offended. You weren’t a liar. “That must have been when it happened.”

You place your free hand on your lower stomach, progressing the fact that you are with child. Something you never imagined you’d be able to have in your life. You always imagined being a lonely old woman, a spinster, and now you have a husband and are pregnant. Tears sting in your eyes and you swallow harshly. “A baby. I- I never…are you angry with me?” You ask after a moment, worried that he’s furious. He didn’t want children.

“It is hardly reasonable for me to be angry when I was the one who entered your chambers.” He reminds you. “I didn’t have a condom with me and I was very willing to spill inside you.” He sighs. “I know this is not what you wanted. I- if you wish, there are places to seek….” He doesn’t voice the rest of it, knowing you will understand what he is saying. “Or, once you give birth, we can hire a wet nurse.”

You ponder it for a moment. You imagine your life in two directions. You could seek what he mentioned, prevent yourself from enduring childbirth and allow both you and Dieter to continue your hobbies. Or, you see yourself writing, a baby in a Moses basket beside you sleeping. A baby that is half you and half Dieter. You ponder both lives, wondering what one you want until you look into those dark eyes and you realize you want the child. You want his child. “I want the baby. Do you want…what do you want?”

“You shouted at me before you collapsed.” Dieter tells you, feeling like he’s about to crawl out of his skin. “You said that I have been unfaithful countless times.” He licks his lips and meets your eyes. “I- I will confess that I have been to the brothel, and attempted to continue on as I had before. Mouths around my cock. Even tried being fucked in an attempt to resume my life.” He squeezes your hand. “I could not even get hard, let alone slide inside someone else. I don’t know what you will think of that, but you should know that I haven’t slept with anyone but you in reality.”

You stare at him in shock, knowing that he always made it known that he would continue his dalliances outside of the house. To hear that he has been unable to do them, despite his best efforts, confuses you even more. “Why - why do you think you haven’t been able to - to resume your life?” You ask, a frown on your face, hoping he doesn’t blame you for it all.

Snorting, he shakes his head, reaching out with his free hand to caress your cheek. “It seems as if my body knew what my head did not want to acknowledge.” He murmurs softly. “That my wife was the one that I wanted.”

You offer him a soft smile, your heart thumping as you keep your eyes fixed on his. “Why - why don’t you want to go back?” You ask softly and he chuckles, shaking his head for a moment.

“You don’t know by now?” He asks. You shake your head, a little dumbstruck. “Because I want you. Somehow, you’ve wiggled your way into my heart and I fear that I can never remove you. Even more terrifying, I don’t want to remove you. I want - I want to be by your side always, I want to learn more about you, I want to spend every night in your arms. I want to touch you, make you moan. I want to make you happy. I’ve never felt like this before.” He almost seems frustrated when his eyes drift across the room but you just reach out to cup his cheeks.

“Listen to me.” You order, “I feel all of those things too. You’re infuriating. You’re childish and spoiled and so - so irritating.” He opens his mouth in protest but you continue before he can say anything. “But, somehow, you’ve made me want you. Knowing more about you, how kind you can be. How smart you are and the way you jump into something you love with all of your heart. It’s made me fall in love with you. Damn you for making me love you. Ruined all of our plans but God, I don’t regret a moment. I don’t regret marrying you. I love you, Dieter.”

Dieter leans into your touch, closing his eyes and sighing. “I should be furious.” He tells you. “Especially because it’s all due to my father that I have found the woman I love, but I cannot be bothered to care.” He murmurs. “I love you. I-I want our marriage to be real.”

You smile for a moment, meeting his eyes when he opens them again. You feel at peace for the first time since he approached you about marriage. “Me too.” You murmur, leaning closer to softly press your lips to his. No urgency, just sweetness as you kiss him.

Dieter pulls back, pecking your lips and then your nose and forehead. “I need to ring for some breakfast for you.” He murmurs softly. “The doctors said you needed to eat and drink when you woke up. No stress. So you will stay in bed today.” He smothers a yawn, having stayed up all night watching over you in worry and fear of how you would react to the news. Now that you are both decided, his own exhaustion is weighing down on him.

“Will you stay with me?” You ask once he stands up to ring the bell for the butler. He turns to look back at you, a soft look in his eyes. “I shall.” He strides over to the bed, kicking off his house shoes before he lays down beside you, pulling you into his arms. “Since the deed has already been done…I know a way we can both relax.” You smirk, sliding your hand down to squeeze him through his trousers, suddenly desperate for your husband.

“Fuck.” He hisses, feeling his cock harden even though he is tired. “Are you sure?” He asks, worried about your health more than anything. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

You nod, loving the way he hardens under your palm. “I want you to fuck your wife and then your wife wants you to nap.” You order, rubbing him before you lean closer to kiss along his neck.

The door opens a moment later and Harold walks in. “Not now Harold.” Dieter growls.

“Sir, I-” He looks at his boss.

“Not now.” Dieter whines, keeping his eyes on yours and the butler just backs out of the room with a chuckle. The staff all had bets on how long it would take for him to fall in love with you.

You moan, hips bucking up into his touch. You are so sensitive, the simple brush of his fingers on your clit has you dripping onto your nightgown. "Oh God, Dieter." You whimper, kissing his hair as he continues kissing along your throat. Your hands slide under his shirt, caressing his back as he rubs your clit a little faster.

Once the two of you are alone again, Dieter wastes no time, turning to pin you on your back. His face buried in your neck to kiss along your throat. “I want you so badly.” He moans, fingers sliding up under your nightgown. “Need you.” His fingers comb through your curls to start rubbing your clit.

“Dieter.” You moan his name, bucking your hips up to his touch, needing more from him now that you have before.

You sound so beautiful, whimpering his name. Dieter groans and pulls back to bite your chin. “Cum.” He coos, voice raspy with lust. “Cum and I’ll fuck you.” He promises, wanting you to be dripping when he slides inside you.

You can hardly resist when he orders you to cum like that. With another moan, you shake beneath him, clamping down around nothing as he works your clit with expertise. “Dieter, please.” You whine, tugging on his shirt as your impatience to have him inside of you grows.

He chuckles, leaning back to unbutton his pants. He would tease you if he wasn’t as anxious to be inside of you as you seem to be to have him there. Pushing down his trousers so his hard cock bounces free, he stands on the bed, grinning down at you while he shucks the material the rest of the way off and starts unbuttoning his shirt.

You playfully roll your eyes at the display he puts on, his cock bouncing as he shifts from one foot to the other, his shirt soon thrown across the room. “Fuck me, you insufferable man.” You tease, pulling off your nightgown to expose your body to his dark gaze.

Dieter drops down to his knees, running his hands up your thighs appreciatively. “I’m going to fuck you. Want to fuck my wife.” He coos. His hands turn gentle and he caresses your skin as his eyes darken slightly. “I love you.”

You smile as he hovers over you, his elbows resting either side of you. “I love you too.” You tilt your head to kiss his lips before you reach between you to grip his cock, positioning him at your entrance. “Fuck your wife.” You order, looking into those dark eyes you love so much.

He pushes into you slowly, groaning loudly the entire time. Inch by inch he sinks into you happily, feeling your walls suck him in deeper while he watches your mouth drop open. “Oh fuck.” He hisses, grinding his pubic hair against your clit. “This- God- how did I go without this?” He can’t even describe it. Sex has always been fun, but this is making his entire body light up with pleasure, something he hadn’t recognized as happening the first time.

You cling to him, wrapping your legs around his waist to push him deeper into you until he is fully sheathed inside of your cunt. “It’s too good. I don’t - I don’t want to go without this.” You moan your response, walls fluttering around him. “Dieter please. Fuck me.” You beg, needing to feel every inch of him.

It’s all he needs to hear. Starting to rock into you in a rhythm that is much more sedate than he had taken you the first two times, this has feeling in it. Kisses punctuating the thrust of his hips and the way your cunt grips him. He caresses your cheek and snaps his hips forward in a move that is both gentle and rough enough to make you cry out his name.

You cling to him, ankles hooked behind his face to keep him close, and you kiss him over and over. “Darling. It’s - it’s - I love you.” You choke, tears stinging in your eyes as your emotions get to you. It’s impossible to avoid, your pregnancy already affecting you.

“Shhh shhh.” Dieter coos, pressing closer and nudging his nose against yours before he kisses your eyelids. “It’s okay sweetheart. I’m going to- I’m going to take care of you.” He promises, knowing that before this, he had never been ready for responsibility. But he is now. “We will do this together.”

“Together.” You echo, knowing that he’s just as scared as you. Being together for real, having a family together. Both things that neither of you planned on happening but you are certain that it was meant to be. He hits something deep that makes your walls flutter around him, close to your climax. “God, you feel perfect. Never - never imagined having something like this. I love you Dieter. I - oh shit.” You curse, clamping down on his cock as you cum, unable to stop yourself as you soak him.

He moans, body quaking over you. Bundling you close and rocking his hips frantically as he works you through your pleasure and chases his own. It doesn’t take long, not with how worked up he has been over the past months over you. Pushing deep inside you, Dieter cums. Gasping and whimpering your name over and over as his cock paints your walls and fills your already filled womb with his sticky seed.

You caress his back as he comes down from his high. You are speechless, mind blank as you simply enjoy the pleasure he gave you. You kiss along his neck until your lips meet his, his tongue sliding into your mouth to caress it with a hum of contentment. His cock softens inside of you but you don’t want him to move, happy to have him on top of you.

“I love you.” The words are whispered against your lips when he pulls back, looking down at you with love and affection. “I am eager to see how your body changes.” He smirks. “I’ve never had sex with a pregnant woman before. But I find that I love it.”

You chuckle, “probably because you know you can’t get me pregnant twice. And I’m certain you’ll be interested when my breasts fill with milk.” You tease, knowing how curious he can be.

He tilts his head, eyes wide as he thinks about it before a smirk appears. “Now…I know I’m gonna love it.”

You giggle, stroking his upper arms. “Let’s get some sleep. You are exhausted and your pregnant wife needs her rest.” He nods in agreement, shifting to lay down beside you. After a quick clean up, you are soon falling asleep in his arms. You never imagined that your boss would become your husband and the father of your child, but an arrangement led to a happy life together.

#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

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macabremads · 1 year ago

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pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader (no use of y/n) rating: mature, mdni 18+ word count: 1.8k summary: Dieter had grown accustomed to your unwavering forgiveness, even when it seemed as though the world was on your shoulders. But, what happens when you decide to take a step back? Or, Dieter Bravo experiences a wide realization of the consequences of his own actions, to the point where redemption seems utterly elusive. warnings/tags: angst, hurt/no comfort, implied drug use, alcohol use, unhealthy relationship dynamics, angst again, too much angst, implied recovery period from substances. A/N: this is part one out of a three part series! please do let me know if you enjoy it as this is my first fic after years (and years) of being hiatused on this account. love ya all xx

His fingers gently pulled at the once-soft sheets under his fingers, a soft hum leaving his parted lips as he looked out past the haze of his dark room, lit only by a cheap candle he had picked up at an old antique store. Probably, that hunk of wax was nearly one hundred years old, but he had decided that keeping his nice, musky-smelling ones was more important to him.

The rain outside the window hit the glass in gentle and rough rounds. The sky couldn't make up its mind on whether it wanted to drizzle or downpour, but it didn't make much of a difference to Dieter; he wasn't planning on going outside either way. Truthfully, he couldn't really remember the last time he had gone outside or left the house unless opening the door to collect his food deliveries counted as a 'breath of fresh air.' He knew it didn't, yet he considered most things these days to be a win.

Grunting, he looked down at his phone. "Monday, October 2nd" rang out on the screen in bright letters, making him squint as he stared down at his phone. No new notifications. Yeah, he hadn't truly expected there to be. He hadn't realized, whether or not that's because he had a goal of staying coked out most days, that your name was the one that always hung around his phone. Whether it was stupid videos of cute animals or random texts asking him about where he was, what he was doing, or if he was enjoying filming. He hadn't really noticed how much he had longed for another compilation of kittens falling over to music that wasn't appropriate given the context of the video, but he knew that his own demise fell at his own hands, and that regardless of what he wanted or thought, there was little opportunity for him to make right his wrongs.

The shitty bottle of cider popped off his lips with a loud 'pop.' Dieter smacked his lips together as he looked at the label from under his brow bone, staring at the little label and trying to decipher where he had bought the alcohol. He was coming up empty-minded, unsure if it was one you had gotten and shoved to the back of his drink fridge, or if he had just gotten gifted the wrong thing from his Instacart driver; the latter seemed more probable. You never were a big beer drinker, and Dieter had his many vices, with beer not even close to the top of that list.

Tossing the bottle onto his already too full end table, he pressed his lips together and moved forward, fuzzy-socked clothed feet hitting the ground, well nearly. "Fuck," he hissed, having stepped on the corner of the top of a beer bottle. The jagged edges crushed into the flesh of his foot as he got up, kicking the metal piece away from him.

Things were miserable; that much he could admit. Not even the promise of a smooth high made his body light up with excitement anymore. He didn't get the same draft from going out and getting messed up with his actor buddies, all of whom he knew didn't like him all that much. But he had always said, "Being around people makes you look more approachable, even if you hate their guts."

Looking down to his phone once more, he shuffled out of his room and kicked at the random clothes that littered his floors, not caring too much about the pigsty he had lived in for the last few weeks. He realized in the haze that you had been tasked with cleaning these messes for him in the past. If you hadn't done what you had around the house, he would have been living in disrepair, unless he had purchased a cleaning service. But that was neither here nor there. The walk to his kitchen was long, mainly because Dieter refused to turn on the lights. He only used his phone to light the way, and even then, he couldn't be bothered to turn the brightness higher than the 50% it had been on all day. He mumbled something to himself about his eyes being adjusted to the dark, as though anyone was listening to him.

Dieter 1:02 am: I’m sorry.

"Fucking-," he nearly shouted, his hand gripping his phone as he looked at the messages he had sent over the last two weeks. All of them said the same thing: "I'm sorry," but this one was different. All of the other ones went through, their blue text box taunting him as he stared at the screen, the last one sent green. You had blocked him, finally. He assumed that it was time, considering how badly everything had ended, but he still hadn't really expected you to do it. You never had in the past, even when his words had venom dripping from them, a coke-induced anger, sharp daggers sent your way, just to see you squirm, just to see you cry, to see you beg him to stay in his life because at the end of the day; he loved to feel wanted, to feel needed, and he knew no other way than to make you suffer in order to prove to him that you cared. This time, he had gone too far.

The cost of hubris didn't fall on deaf ears when it came to Dieter, even when it was clear that he wasn't thinking about anyone else but himself. Concerns voiced to him were brushed off with a furrowed brow and a dismissive wave of his hand. It usually ended with some brief statement that he "would work on it" or he "would talk to you about it when he wasn't so messed up," but there was only so many times that excuse would work on anyone, and you had gone past your limit.

It had been an incredibly monotonous day that poured over into the evening. You and Dieter had both decided that staying in made more sense. Neither you nor him had the willpower to go out and avoid fans, prying eyes, or the tension that lingered between you. Or at least you couldn't. Dieter was another story, an enigma that found comfort in the silence you both shared. He held a clear "if you don't say, I won't ask" mentality, and it had kept things relaxed, mellow, and undisturbed, at least on his side.

You wouldn't be able to forget the moment when things had tipped over the edge. There wasn't a big fight, there wasn't a eureka moment that rolled upon you. Yet, the tea glass, for lack of a better metaphor, had broken months ago, and the shards that you consumed with every sip began to make swallowing and breathing difficult. Choking on your own blood silently, while Dieter lay next to you, none the wiser.

His arm had been wrapped around you, your head lazily placed upon his chest. The shirt he had been wearing was wrinkled and creased, a result of his refusal to hang up his folded clothes. He smelled like brandy, a bit of mint, and whatever fragrance was laced into his hair gel. His fingers played with a loose thread on your jumper, one of his old favorites that he had gifted to you after your second date, insisting that it "looked better on you than it ever looked on me."

"I don't think this is working anymore," the words were nearly silent, tasted bitter on your tongue as you continued to lay on his chest. His breathing halted, and his fingers stopped their soothing moves on your arm as he took in your words. He had heard you, and he felt the deep ache in his stomach, as though you had dug your fingers into his chest, pressing past the delicate fibers of the muscles between his ribs, ripping out every last bit of him, despite not moving from your spot.

The Dieter that you had originally met was a spitfire, never taking much seriously, not having any plans for his future outside of what drugs he was going to take at his next party or what country he was going to go to next to star in another forgettable movie. Now, things had gotten better, but the desire to fix this broken man had begun to lose its luster once the honeymoon period had worn off, and all that was left was both of you, not moving, yet gripping each other's wrists as though you two would melt if someone walked away.

You had prided yourself on your strength, and Dieter had too. Despite his shortcomings, he hadn't expected you to leave. He would have bet every last dollar that you wouldn't have left him, that you couldn't because you had promised to stay by his side and love him like he hadn't been loved before. He had always been insecure about his place in the world, despite putting up a bravado and an air of being untouchable. Still, you had instilled in him that he wasn't more broken and less deserving of love, and he had believed that your love would fix him, forgetting that it wasn't only his cup that needed to be filled, but yours as well.

You had devoted your time to making him happy, and he did his best to do the same for you, for a while. Until he got used to you being around, until he got too numb to all that you did for him. It hadn't been intentional, but when filming got hard, when he felt overwhelmed, when the drugs didn't fill his chest like they used to, he blanked out and took and took from you, never thinking about how eventually your cup would run dry while his overflowed.

He said nothing that night. He didn't beg you to stay, he didn't make false promises that he would change, as he had so many times before. No, he knew that all he could do was hold you close, inhaling your scent, and asking if you could stay for the night.

You agreed.

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo angst #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo x oc #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal angst #pedro pascal fanfiction #the bubble

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fuckyeahdindjarin · 1 year ago

Note

Rereading Consent for like the sixth time (love, by the way) and I am ashamed to admit that I was today years old when I realized that Deliveroo actually exists and isn’t something you made up because it sounded like an on-brand Dieter thing to call a food delivery 🤦‍♀️

Omg babe I’m rolling 😂 @prolix-yuy and I had the exact same conversation a while ago - I hadn’t realized that you guys don’t have Deliveroo in the States when I was writing Consent 🤦🏻‍♀️ It’s a little Easter egg that no one else had brought up so I just left it in there! I’m so glad someone else finally caught it, though I’ll never know how many of you guys were confused about it lmao.

Thank you so much for (re)reading Consent, it makes me so happy whenever I hear from lovely readers about my first completed series 🥰

#fuckyeahasks #consent series

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jcmarchi · 11 months ago

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Engineers develop a vibrating, ingestible capsule that might help treat obesity

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/engineers-develop-a-vibrating-ingestible-capsule-that-might-help-treat-obesity/

Engineers develop a vibrating, ingestible capsule that might help treat obesity

When you eat a large meal, your stomach sends signals to your brain that create a feeling of fullness, which helps you realize it’s time to stop eating. A stomach full of liquid can also send these messages, which is why dieters are often advised to drink a glass of water before eating.

MIT engineers have now come up with a new way to take advantage of that phenomenon, using an ingestible capsule that vibrates within the stomach. These vibrations activate the same stretch receptors that sense when the stomach is distended, creating an illusory sense of fullness.

In animals who were given this pill 20 minutes before eating, the researchers found that this treatment not only stimulated the release of hormones that signal satiety, but also reduced the animals’ food intake by about 40 percent. Scientists have much more to learn about the mechanisms that influence human body weight, but if further research suggests this technology could be safely used in humans, such a pill might offer a minimally invasive way to treat obesity, the researchers say.

“For somebody who wants to lose weight or control their appetite, it could be taken before each meal,” says Shriya Srinivasan PhD ’20, a former MIT graduate student and postdoc who is now an assistant professor of bioengineering at Harvard University. “This could be really interesting in that it would provide an option that could minimize the side effects that we see with the other pharmacological treatments out there.”

Srinivasan is the lead author of the new study, which appears today in Science Advances. Giovanni Traverso, an associate professor of mechanical engineering at MIT and a gastroenterologist at Brigham and Women’s Hospital, is the senior author of the paper.

A sense of fullness

When the stomach becomes distended, specialized cells called mechanoreceptors sense that stretching and send signals to the brain via the vagus nerve. As a result, the brain stimulates production of insulin, as well as hormones such as C-peptide, Pyy, and GLP-1. All of these hormones work together to help people digest their food, feel full, and stop eating. At the same time, levels of ghrelin, a hunger-promoting hormone, go down.

While a graduate student at MIT, Srinivasan became interested in the idea of controlling this process by artificially stretching the mechanoreceptors that line the stomach, through vibration. Previous research had shown that vibration applied to a muscle can induce a sense that the muscle has stretched farther than it actually has.

“I wondered if we could activate stretch receptors in the stomach by vibrating them and having them perceive that the entire stomach has been expanded, to create an illusory sense of distension that could modulate hormones and eating patterns,” Srinivasan says.

As a postdoc in MIT’s Koch Institute for Integrative Cancer Research, Srinivasan worked closely with Traverso’s lab, which has developed many novel approaches to oral delivery of drugs and electronic devices. For this study, Srinivasan, Traverso, and a team of researchers designed a capsule about the size of a multivitamin, that includes a vibrating element. When the pill, which is powered by a small silver oxide battery, reaches the stomach, acidic gastric fluids dissolve a gelatinous membrane that covers the capsule, completing the electronic circuit that activates the vibrating motor.

In a study in animals, the researchers showed that once the pill begins vibrating, it activates mechanoreceptors, which send signals to the brain through stimulation of the vagus nerve. The researchers tracked hormone levels during the periods when the device was vibrating and found that they mirrored the hormone release patterns seen following a meal, even when the animals had fasted.

The researchers then tested the effects of this stimulation on the animals’ appetite. They found that when the pill was activated for about 20 minutes, before the animals were offered food, they consumed 40 percent less, on average, than they did when the pill was not activated. The animals also gained weight more slowly during periods when they were treated with the vibrating pill.

“The behavioral change is profound, and that’s using the endogenous system rather than any exogenous therapeutic. We have the potential to overcome some of the challenges and costs associated with delivery of biologic drugs by modulating the enteric nervous system,” Traverso says.

The current version of the pill is designed to vibrate for about 30 minutes after arriving in the stomach, but the researchers plan to explore the possibility of adapting it to remain in the stomach for longer periods of time, where it could be turned on and off wirelessly as needed. In the animal studies, the pills passed through the digestive tract within four or five days.

The study also found that the animals did not show any signs of obstruction, perforation, or other negative impacts while the pill was in their digestive tract.

An alternative approach

This type of pill could offer an alternative to the current approaches to treating obesity, the researchers say. Nonmedical interventions such as diet exercise don’t always work, and many of the existing medical interventions are fairly invasive. These include gastric bypass surgery, as well as gastric balloons, which are no longer used widely in the United States due to safety concerns.

Drugs such as GLP-1 agonists can also aid weight loss, but most of them have to be injected, and they are unaffordable for many people. According to Srinivasan, the MIT capsules could be manufactured at a cost that would make them available to people who don’t have access to more expensive treatment options.

“For a lot of populations, some of the more effective therapies for obesity are very costly. At scale, our device could be manufactured at a pretty cost-effective price point,” she says. “I’d love to see how this would transform care and therapy for people in global health settings who may not have access to some of the more sophisticated or expensive options that are available today.”

The researchers now plan to explore ways to scale up the manufacturing of the capsules, which could enable clinical trials in humans. Such studies would be important to learn more about the devices’ safety, as well as determine the best time to swallow the capsule before to a meal and how often it would need to be administered.

Other authors of the paper include Amro Alshareef, Alexandria Hwang, Ceara Byrne, Johannes Kuosmann, Keiko Ishida, Joshua Jenkins, Sabrina Liu, Wiam Abdalla Mohammed Madani, Alison Hayward, and Niora Fabian.

The research was funded by the National Institutes of Health, Novo Nordisk, the Department of Mechanical Engineering at MIT, a Schmidt Science Fellowship, and the National Science Foundation.

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psychedelic-ink · 2 years ago

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Dieter Bravo was fed mostly by food delivery companies so when he starts dating his sweetheart his favourite evening show is the cooking show in his big but never used kitchen. He is picky eater and it was hard to find something you both like. But he has a secret. He would eat even the worst food in his life if he has to opportunity to see you dancing in his kitchen while making it.

On your first anniversary he tried to cook a simple meal and he set kitchen on fire. He feels totally useless and thought he totally fucked up the whole day but it ended up by you two sitting on the floor and checking up hot firemen while eating ice cream. And that’s when he realised you are the one.

I love this so fucking much.

My rare favorite moments with my ex is the moments when we're forced to be in a crowd and gradually fade into the background, then we would observe people telling each other what we thought

So staring at hot firemen with Dieter while eating icecream sounds like an absolute dream (maybe he and sweetheart can persuade one of them to join them in bed)

#mail.💌#anonymous #just dieter things

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dreamcrust1 · 4 months ago

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Why Frozen Keto Pizza Delivery is a Game-Changer for Low-Carb Dieters

Sticking to a low-carb diet can be challenging, especially when it comes to finding convenient and delicious meal options. One of the most beloved foods, pizza, is often off-limits due to its high carb content. However, the advent of frozen keto pizza delivery has revolutionized the way low-carb dieters enjoy this classic comfort food. In this blog, we'll explore why frozen keto pizza delivery is a game-changer for those following a low-carb lifestyle, and highlight some of the best frozen keto pizza options available.

Convenience Meets Nutrition

Effortless Meal Planning

One of the biggest challenges of a low-carb diet is meal planning and preparation. Frozen keto pizza delivery eliminates this hassle, offering a quick and easy meal option that fits perfectly into a low-carb diet. With just a few clicks, you can have a nutritious and delicious keto pizza delivered to your doorstep, ready to be heated and enjoyed in minutes.

Perfect for Busy Lifestyles

For those with busy schedules, cooking a keto-friendly meal from scratch can be time-consuming. Frozen keto pizza delivery provides a convenient solution for busy individuals who need a quick, low-carb meal without compromising on taste or nutrition. Whether you're a working professional, a student, or a parent, frozen keto pizza delivery can fit seamlessly into your lifestyle.

Health Benefits of Keto Pizza

Low-Carb and High-Fat

Keto pizzas are specifically designed to be low in carbs and high in healthy fats, making them ideal for those following a ketogenic diet. These pizzas typically use alternative crusts made from almond flour, cauliflower, or cheese, which significantly reduces the carb content while still providing a satisfying and delicious base for your favorite toppings.

Nutrient-Rich Ingredients

Many frozen keto pizzas are made with high-quality, nutrient-rich ingredients. From organic vegetables to grass-fed meats and cheeses, these pizzas offer a nutritious alternative to traditional high-carb options. This means you can indulge in a tasty meal while still getting the essential nutrients your body needs.

Flavorful and Satisfying

Variety of Options

The market for frozen keto pizzas has expanded significantly, offering a wide variety of options to suit different tastes and preferences. Whether you prefer classic flavors like Margherita and Pepperoni, or more gourmet options like Pesto Chicken or BBQ Beef, there's a frozen keto pizza out there for you.

Satisfying Crust Alternatives

One of the key components of a delicious pizza is the crust, and frozen keto pizzas have mastered the art of creating satisfying low-carb crusts. From almond flour and coconut flour to cauliflower and cheese-based crusts, these alternatives offer a texture and flavor that rivals traditional pizza crusts.

Cost-Effective Meal Option

Affordable Pricing

While dining out at a restaurant or ordering regular pizza delivery can be expensive, frozen keto pizzas are often more affordable. Many brands offer competitive pricing, making it a cost-effective option for those who want to enjoy a keto-friendly meal without breaking the bank.

Reducing Food Waste

With frozen keto pizza delivery, you can order exactly what you need, reducing the risk of food waste. This is especially beneficial for individuals or small households who may not want to cook a large meal that could go to waste.

The Best Frozen Keto Pizzas

Real Good Foods

Real Good Foods offers a range of frozen keto pizzas that are both delicious and nutritious. Their pizzas feature a unique chicken-based crust, which is low in carbs and high in protein. With flavors like Pepperoni, Supreme, and Three Cheese, Real Good Foods provides a satisfying pizza experience without the carbs.

Quest Nutrition

Quest Nutrition is known for its high-quality, low-carb products, and their frozen keto pizzas are no exception. Made with a gluten-free crust and topped with premium ingredients, Quest pizzas are a great option for those looking to enjoy a keto-friendly meal. Popular flavors include Uncured Pepperoni and Four Cheese.

Caulipower

Caulipower offers a variety of frozen keto pizzas with a cauliflower-based crust. These pizzas are low in carbs and packed with flavor, making them a great option for low-carb dieters. Some of their top flavors include Margherita, Veggie, and Three Cheese.

Outer Aisle

Outer Aisle provides a unique take on keto pizza with their cauliflower and cheese-based crusts. These pizzas are low in carbs and high in fiber, making them a nutritious option for those following a ketogenic diet. Flavors like Italian and Mexican offer a delicious and satisfying meal option.

Conclusion

Frozen keto pizza delivery is truly a game-changer for low-carb dieters. It offers the perfect combination of convenience, nutrition, and flavor, making it easier than ever to stick to a low-carb lifestyle. With a wide variety of options available, you can enjoy your favorite comfort food without the guilt or hassle. So next time you're craving pizza, consider trying one of the best frozen keto pizzas and experience the delicious benefits for yourself.

By opting for frozen keto pizza delivery, you're not only making a smart dietary choice but also enjoying a meal that's both satisfying and delicious. Embrace the convenience and flavor of frozen keto pizzas, and make your low-carb journey more enjoyable and sustainable.

#Frozen Pizza Delivery #Best Frozen Keto Pizza

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moremedtech · 10 months ago

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MIT Engineers develop a vibrating, ingestible capsule that might help treat obesity

MIT Engineers develop a vibrating, ingestible capsule that might help treat obesity Swallowing the device before a meal could create a sense of fullness, tricking the brain into thinking it’s time to stop eating. When you eat a large meal, your stomach sends signals to your brain that cause you to feel full, allowing you to realize it's time to stop eating. These messages can also be sent by a stomach full of liquid, which is why dieters are often advised to drink a glass of water before eating. MIT engineers have developed a new method for capitalizing on this phenomenon, employing an ingestible capsule that vibrates within the stomach. These vibrations activate the same stretch receptors that detect when the stomach is distended, giving the illusion of fullness. The researchers discovered that giving this pill to animals 20 minutes before eating not only stimulated the release of hormones that signal satiety, but also reduced the animals' food intake by about 40%. Scientists still have a lot to learn about the mechanisms that influence human body weight, but if further research shows that this technology can be used safely in humans, such a pill could offer a minimally invasive way to treat obesity, according to the researchers. “For somebody who wants to lose weight or control their appetite, it could be taken before each meal,” says Shriya Srinivasan PhD ’20, a former MIT graduate student and postdoc who is now an assistant professor of bioengineering at Harvard University. “This could be really interesting in that it would provide an option that could minimize the side effects that we see with the other pharmacological treatments out there.” Srinivasan is the lead author of the new study, which appears today in Science Advances. Giovanni Traverso, an associate professor of mechanical engineering at MIT and a gastroenterologist at Brigham and Women’s Hospital, is the senior author of the paper.

A sense of fullness

When the stomach stretches, specialized cells known as mechanoreceptors detect it and send signals to the brain via the vagus nerve. As a result, the brain increases the production of insulin as well as other hormones like C-peptide, Pyy, and GLP-1. All of these hormones work together to aid digestion, feeling full, and stopping eating. At the same time, ghrelin, a hunger-promoting hormone, decreases. Srinivasan became interested in controlling this process as a graduate student at MIT by artificially stretching the mechanoreceptors that line the stomach with vibration. Previous research had shown that applying vibration to a muscle can create the illusion that the muscle has stretched further than it actually has. “I wondered if we could activate stretch receptors in the stomach by vibrating them and having them perceive that the entire stomach has been expanded, to create an illusory sense of distension that could modulate hormones and eating patterns,” Srinivasan says. As a postdoc at MIT's Koch Institute for Integrative Cancer Research, Srinivasan collaborated closely with Traverso's lab, which has pioneered many novel approaches to drug and electronic device delivery. Srinivasan, Traverso, and their colleagues created a capsule the size of a multivitamin that contains a vibrating element for this study. When the pill, which is powered by a small silver oxide battery, enters the stomach, acidic gastric fluids dissolve the capsule's gelatinous membrane, completing the electronic circuit that activates the vibrating motor. In an animal study, the researchers discovered that when the pill begins to vibrate, it activates mechanoreceptors, which send signals to the brain via vagus nerve stimulation. The researchers monitored hormone levels while the device was vibrating and discovered that they mirrored hormone release patterns seen after a meal, even when the animals had fasted. The researchers then examined how this stimulation affected the animals' appetites. They discovered that when the pill was activated for about 20 minutes before the animals were given food, they consumed 40% less on average than when it was not activated. The animals also gained weight at a slower rate when they were given the vibrating pill. “The behavioral change is profound, and that’s using the endogenous system rather than any exogenous therapeutic. We have the potential to overcome some of the challenges and costs associated with delivery of biologic drugs by modulating the enteric nervous system,” Traverso says. The current version of the pill is designed to vibrate for about 30 minutes after arriving in the stomach, but the researchers plan to explore the possibility of adapting it to remain in the stomach for longer periods of time, where it could be turned on and off wirelessly as needed. In the animal studies, the pills passed through the digestive tract within four or five days. The study also found that the animals did not show any signs of obstruction, perforation, or other negative impacts while the pill was in their digestive tract.

An alternative approach

According to the researchers, this type of pill could provide an alternative to current approaches to treating obesity. Nonmedical interventions such as diet and exercise are not always effective, and many existing medical interventions are quite invasive. Gastric bypass surgery and gastric balloons, which are no longer widely used in the United States due to safety concerns, are examples. Drugs such as GLP-1 agonists can also help with weight loss, but the majority of them must be injected and are therefore out of reach for many people. According to Srinivasan, the MIT capsules could be produced at a low enough cost that they would be accessible to people who do not have access to more expensive treatment options. “For a lot of populations, some of the more effective therapies for obesity are very costly. At scale, our device could be manufactured at a pretty cost-effective price point,” she says. “I’d love to see how this would transform care and therapy for people in global health settings who may not have access to some of the more sophisticated or expensive options that are available today.” The researchers now plan to explore ways to scale up the manufacturing of the capsules, which could enable clinical trials in humans. Such studies would be important to learn more about the devices’ safety, as well as determine the best time to swallow the capsule before to a meal and how often it would need to be administered. Other authors of the paper include Amro Alshareef, Alexandria Hwang, Ceara Byrne, Johannes Kuosmann, Keiko Ishida, Joshua Jenkins, Sabrina Liu, Wiam Abdalla Mohammed Madani, Alison Hayward, and Niora Fabian. The research was funded by the National Institutes of Health, Novo Nordisk, the Department of Mechanical Engineering at MIT, a Schmidt Science Fellowship, and the National Science Foundation. Read the full article

#healthtech #medtech #medtechnews #MIT #weightloss

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healthymealsbyloseweight · 1 year ago

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Transform Your Health with Nutritious Meal Plans in Dubai, Abu Dhabi, and Across the UAE

In the quest for a healthier lifestyle, one of the most crucial aspects is maintaining a well-balanced diet. If you're in Dubai, Abu Dhabi, or anywhere across the UAE, you don't have to tackle this challenge alone. Meal plans are the secret weapon to achieving your health and weight loss goals. With the convenience of meal plan delivery, you can transform your eating habits and your life.

Meal Plans Dubai: A Gateway to Healthier Living

Dubai's fast-paced lifestyle can make it challenging to prioritize healthy eating. However, with the availability of meal plans in Dubai, you can effortlessly incorporate balanced nutrition into your daily routine. These meal plans are tailored to your dietary preferences, ensuring you receive the right nutrients without sacrificing flavor.

Healthy Meal Plans Dubai: Nourish Your Body, Fuel Your Life

Healthy meal plans in Dubai are not just about weight loss; they're about nourishing your body and mind. They focus on providing a variety of nutrients, vitamins, and minerals, giving you the energy and vitality to conquer your day. By embracing healthy meal plans, you invest in your well-being.

Meal Plans Abu Dhabi: Bridging the Gap to Optimal Nutrition

Abu Dhabi, like Dubai, faces the challenges of modern living. Fortunately, meal plans in Abu Dhabi offer residents the opportunity to bridge the gap between their busy lives and optimal nutrition. These meal plans are designed to cater to individual dietary needs, making healthy eating accessible to everyone.

Meal Plan UAE: A Nationwide Solution

Meal plans are not limited to specific cities; they span across the entire UAE. Whether you're in Dubai, Abu Dhabi, or any other emirate, you can access the benefits of meal plans designed to support your health and wellness journey.

Meal Plan Delivery Dubai: Convenience Meets Nutrition

One of the key advantages of meal plans in Dubai is the convenience they offer. Meal plan delivery in Dubai ensures that you have access to nutritious meals without the stress of grocery shopping and cooking. It's a game-changer for those with busy schedules or anyone looking to simplify their life.

The Benefits of Meal Plans

Customization: Meal plans can be tailored to your specific dietary requirements, whether you're vegetarian, vegan, gluten-free, or have other dietary restrictions.

Portion Control: Proper portion sizes are integral to weight management and overall health. Meal plans take the guesswork out of portion control.

Nutrient-Rich Ingredients: Meal plans focus on incorporating nutrient-rich ingredients, such as lean proteins, whole grains, and a variety of fruits and vegetables.

Weight Management: For those aiming to shed excess pounds, meal plans can be designed to support weight loss while ensuring that you're still enjoying satisfying and delicious meals.

Time-Saving: Meal plans save you valuable time by eliminating the need for meal prep and cooking, allowing you to focus on other aspects of your life.

Conclusion Meal plans are not just a trend; they're a proven path to better health and well-being. Whether you're in Dubai, Abu Dhabi, or anywhere in the UAE, meal plans offer a convenient and nutritious solution to your dietary needs. By embracing meal plans, you invest in your health, save time, and simplify your life. Make the choice to prioritize your well-being and explore the world of meal plans today. With meal plan delivery in Dubai and across the UAE, there's never been a more convenient way to transform your eating habits and achieve your health goals.

#meal plans dubai #healthy meal plans dubai #meal plans abu dhabi #meal plan uae #monthly meal plans dubai #diet food delivery dubai #healthy meals delivery dubai #diet food in dubai #meal plan delivery dubai #diet meal plan dubai #food delivery for dieters #diet meals dubai

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health4beats · 2 years ago

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Alpilean Reviews (2023) Latest Alpine Ice Hack Customer Side Effects Research

The capsulated weight-loss blend has the power to burn years of calories and suppress appetite with its revolutionary method of targeting the inner body temperature of grossly overweight people.

Losing weight in this digital era can be difficult.

One of the main reasons is the sedentary lifestyle that many people lead due to the increased use of technology and the internet.

People are spending more and more time sitting in front of their computers, smartphones, and tablets, which can lead to a lack of physical activity and an increase in weight.

Another reason that losing weight can be difficult in this digital age is the availability of high-calorie foods.

With the rise of online food delivery services, it has become easier than ever to order fast food, pizza, and other high-calorie foods directly to your door.

This can make it more difficult to resist the temptation to indulge in these foods, which can lead to weight gain.

However, the alpine ice hack weight loss supplement can help to overcome these difficulties.

This supplement enhances inner body temperature, which can help to speed up the metabolism and burn fat cells more effectively.

This can make it easier to lose weight and keep it off in the long term.

The claims are very strong, and a lot of Alpilean reviews support them all.

But is Alpilean a safe way to lose weight loss?

What is the inner body temperature?

How much weight can Alpilean shed from your body?

We are here to tell you everything you need to know about this revolutionary weight loss supplement.

Alpilean – What Is It?

Alpilean is a new weight loss formula that claims to help people lose years of stubborn belly fat through six natural ingredients which increase the inner core body temperature to burn more calories than any diet or workout plant ever created.

The six ingredients in the new Alpilean weight loss formula are all-natural.

They are claimed to be effective in increasing the internal body temperature, which in turn helps to burn calories and promote weight loss.

The Alpilean supplement is also designed to help the body absorb and use more of the food’s nutrients, which helps reduce hunger and cravings.

The new formula is available now on the official Alpilean website.

Alpilean’s new weight loss Ice Hack is safe for both men and women and is backed by a 100% money-back satisfaction guarantee.

By raising the internal body temperature of the cells and organs, the supplement is said to hasten the weight loss process.

How Does The Alpilean Weight Loss Formula Work?

Alpilean is one of the very few unique weight loss supplements.

The creators of Alpilean Ice Hack have spent years conducting research to conclude that a lower core body temperature causes people to be grossly overweight.

However, this inner temperature does not appear on a thermometer because it’s not the temperature of how cold or hot you feel outside.

It is the temperature of your internal organs.

It seems that no matter how much exercise dieters commit to, a low inner body temperature will always prevent them from losing weight.

According to scientific research, slender people tend to have normal inner body temperature than people who often have low body temperature.

According to an Alpilean representative, “This low inner body temperature is the main cause of enormously overweight people’s inability to reduce weight.”

Alpilean aims to address these low inner temperatures.

By energizing dieters from the inside out, Alpilean has the ability to overcome this temperature disparity.

Six alpine ingredients and plants are used in each serving of Alpilean to raise the core body temperature from the inside and aid with fat loss by increasing metabolism and daily caloric expenditure.

The metabolism is thus accelerated with Alpilean by increasing core body temperature.

More calories must be burned to maintain the body’s homeostasis provided by Alpilean at a higher temperature.

For example, the body may burn 2,500 calories per day with Alpilean instead of 1,500 in colder inner temperatures, which is equal to adding one or two hours of physical activity each day.

The Alpilean supplement’s manufacturers assert that while moderate exercise and a strict diet cannot guarantee weight loss, daily use of this supplement can.

Additionally, maintaining a tight diet and a steady workout schedule can be monotonous and difficult, but taking a supplement daily is simpler, especially when there are no hazards involved.

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write-and-buried · 2 years ago

Text

Celestial Navigation

Chapter 4 - Waxing Gibbous

(gif by the magnificent and incomporable @pedropascalsx)

Summary; You haven't thought about it... at all... not once. The invitation with "Partners Encouraged" is holding all your attention anyway, not the shirt that's tucked under your pillow.

Warnings; explicit masturbation (both m&f) toxic workplace culture, me dipping my feet into the fake dating trope

A/N; again; I am awed and humbled and over the top emotional about everyone's response to this story. Very special thanks to @astroboots and @the-ginger-hedge-witch who have miraculously not kicked me out of a group chat where I torture them with whore thoughts 24/7.

also p.s if you're a financial employee or have a solid and general understanding about the facts I'm pulling out of my ass here - I'm sorry

[Series Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist]

[prev] - [next]

“It should be treated as something separate… are you okay?”

Dieter grabs your forearm, the cheap pen hanging out the corner of his mouth as he folds and rolls the sleeve of your shirt over your elbow, flipping your palm upright on the table as he runs his thumb across the tendons of your wrist.

“I’m fine, keep talking” he murmurs, pulling the cap off the pen with his teeth and spitting it onto the ground. He starts with gentle strokes on your forearm his brow furrowed as the deep navy stains across your skin.

“They get their value from the performance of something else”

“What are they used for?” he asks

“They’re supposed to be used for the management of risk – but generally speaking it’s a loophole that allows people to make money even if they should be losing it. They’re the main cause of the 2008 financial crisis”

“I thought that was houses”

“It was, these people preyed on low-income persons and got them to get mortgages they couldn’t afford, and then basically bet they couldn’t afford them, so when they defaulted on the mortgages, they still made money. That whole system collapsed and took the global economy with it”

He shifts in his chair, twisting himself around your forearm, leaning close enough that his breath skates over the fine hairs as he sketches on your skin.

“I have my journal; you can draw in that if you’d like” You say.

“Better canvas.” He grunts, not looking up. “Keep talking, I almost understand what it is – it’s like a bet on whether stock will go up or down? And if you bet its going to go down then you make the money anyway? Is that legal?”

“Depends on how many filters you put it through. A lot of the big places go to MIT and Harvard and recruit out of their advanced mathematics programs. Get them to write the equations for them, to reduce the risk”

“You keep saying risk, like it’s not all gambling. Like their job isn’t making bets with other people’s money. What happens when you lose?”

“You remember 2008? Or the last few years even – the economy tanked because of an outside force then as well”

“I got stoned, and Owen and Molly made a delivery system work for this place.”

“You’re lucky.”

“No, I’m wealthy. It’s why I get to be eccentric. I just tried to make sure I kept food in peoples fridges, and a roof over their head.”

You look at the crown of his head as he sketches, chewing on the end of the cheap pen whenever he takes a break, smudges the lines with his thumb, squints and turns his head. His hair catches the light, it looks soft, like it would run through your fingers like silk if you reached to touch it. Long enough for you to grip…

No.

It’s gotten easier, over the last six weeks; to label the thoughts and put them in a dark box, kick it into the corner and ignore them as they stacked precariously tall. He kept his word – nothing changed. You woke up later in the day and left, went to your apartment and did laundry, as though the sight of his shirt mixed with your underwear didn’t tug at some thread under your skin.

He touches you now. Still with permission, never crowding or cornering your space. But he brushes hair off your forehead, fixes tags in your clothing. More than once he’s caught a blueberry stain from spreading on your lip. You spend your weekends in his apartment now. Curled on that same couch with your laptop, filling out spreadsheet after spreadsheet while he paints and hums in the background. There are comfortable long silences, games of Jenga that leave you laughing until your sides hurt. He’s cooked you dinner more than once. Hell, next week you’re going there for Thanksgiving, Owen and Molly and Dieter and you, crowded around his kitchen counter on chairs made out of milk crates to eat mash potatoes and get high.

It feels like you’ve known him longer than you have, the way he slots into your life. You find yourself smiling throughout the day, thinking about his latest piece, a fingerpainting of Orion, chasing the Pleiades across a sky made of crushed autumn leaves. There are still questions you want to ask him, ones that hover in the hollow of your throat. You don’t know where his finished pieces hang, you don’t know where his wealth has come from. You don’t know how to ask.

“I have to get home. I didn’t bring my laptop and I’ve got to get this report finished”

“Ok” he says, leaning back on his own chair as he tucks the pen behind his ear with a grin.

“What is it?” you ask, looking at the scribbled mass on your forearm.

“Abstract” he laughs. “I’ll call you later”

He doesn’t ask anymore – just assumes you’ll answer, and you always do. It’s ritual, routine and safe, as you pace around your apartment with headphones and a Lean Cuisine. He tells you stories about Molly and Owen. His friend from back home and the hell they raised under a California sun. You tell him about college, the parties you skirted the sidelines of the boyfriends you regretted and ones you didn’t. The conversation ends with one of you falling into bed, the soft whump of fabric as you collapse in on yourselves, a neutron star.

The email comes late in the evening. Whatever mid-level HR representative is working at 10.30pm on a Tuesday night should be promoted, or at least paid overtime. It’s a glossy, slick reply-all email, nice graphics in a fancy font. They’re holding a cocktail party for the interns on Friday. It’s from 7-10pm and while attendance isn’t mandatory, it is encouraged, as a chance to mingle with the higher ups from the firm, maybe have one of them remember your name in a context other than the editor of a spreadsheet they glanced at for twenty seconds.

“Partners welcome”

Fuck. That was a loaded addition. Partners welcome, actually meant Partners encouraged. The portion of this job where they judged you like cats in a fair, held you up to scrutiny that your life, your whole life would fit the mould they wanted it to. You stared at it, weighing the pros and cons, going at all, going alone, trawling Tinder for some guy who looked semi okay in a suit jacket to play along for the night.

Your phone buzzed while you were still thinking, your fingers itching for a pen to start a list. Neat columns and straight lines that would lead you to the right decision to make, the answer to this impossible question.

“Hey” you answer, knowing it’s him before he speaks.

“What’s wrong? Did the interest rate not compound right?”

You laugh, shutting your laptop as you stand.

“No, just this stupid cocktail mixer. They just emailed, it’s Friday and they want us to bring our partners. I shouldn’t get so worked up over it, but going alone sends a message that you’re independent, and less likely to toe the company line. So, they’ll be looking for those people for the final layoffs in December”

“Need a Ken for your Barbie?”

“Exactly. I’ll work something out. Make an appearance and my partner can be strategically in the bathroom while I shake everyone’s hands. Or he’s working on an acquisition and couldn’t get away, something like that”

He’s silent on the other line, the rhythmic flick of a lighter the only indication that he’s still there.

“it’s just stupid. I’m good at my job, they know this. I had one little mistake a few weeks ago, but otherwise I’m the best intern they have, and they know it. The thought that they would fire me because I don’t have a partner, someone pretty to be beside me at functions and mixers, what do they think it means if I’m single? That I’m not worthy of a job at their company? If anything, it means I’m more worthy, because I’m demonstrating a willingness to give up my social life for them, I’ve lived ate and breathed this company since I started, and it comes down to this bullshit?”

“I’ll go” he says.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll come with you. Friday? Tell me the time, and I’ll be there”

“Dieter…”

“You need someone with you, I’ll run a comb through my hair for you and throw on a sports coat”

“You don’t own a sports coat, and it’s more a suit thing”

“Then I’ll get a suit. Come on, you’ve just said it, you’ve worked your ass off for this job, it’s not fair that they judge you based on this. But when you’re director of the company you can change that. So, let’s go to this thing and make sure you’re gonna be director”

“I can’t ask you to…”

“You’re not asking Lou, I’m offering. Same rules as last time, mm wait. Slightly amended rules. I’ll have to touch you at least a little. But no kissing, not unless you ask”

“They’re uptight, stuffy corporate types”

“And I can put up with that for a few hours. Let me do this for you, please?”

“I’ll only ask you to stay for an hour” you hedge.

“I’ll start working on my cover story. Go to sleep Bette, I’ll see you on Friday”

He hangs up – leaving you with dead air and an abstract drawing he inked into your skin.

The ceiling fan swings lazily above him as he stares beyond the spinning blades. It’s easy now, to imagine you, nibbling at your cuticles as you pace around your apartment, trying to figure out if this will work. He’ll show up and play the part you want him to, enough to make an impression on the higher ups whose approval you seek. In his mind, you’re wearing his shirt, your legs long and bare as you twirl on the balls of your feet. You’re probably stress cleaning your kitchen, wiping down the corners of your sink with a wet sponge as you think.

Tomorrow will be the list. The columns in that journal, pros and cons in bullet points in your neat, blocky handwriting. A whole page devoted to a problem he can solve. You’ll come to the same conclusion soon enough. You have a space on his couch now – he buys sodas you like. He’s painting with his fingers because the texture of yours on his last work haunts his dreams.

You’re here, even when you’re not. His sheets are soft beneath him as he kicks his sweats to the bottom of the bed, relishing in the cool weight of linen on his naked skin. It’s cold at nights now, too cold to have the door to the balcony open more than just a crack, and the fresh scent of you lingers even as the cold creeps in.

His hands have always had a mind of their own, moving across a canvas without conscious thought, seeking out the places in soft skin to bring across cries of pleasure, his thumb stroking a cheek, cupping a breast. He follows the lines on his palm the paths they take him down always murky, always correct in the end.

That night was the first time he denied himself. Forced himself still, to do nothing more than touch the silky skin of your wrist and speak. He felt like he was in a trance, visualising everything he wanted to do to you and letting it spill forth into your waiting ear, urged onward by the way you pressed your thighs together, the whimper that parted your lips.

His hand is already curled around his length when he hears the ghost of it. The slick parting of your pillow soft lips as your eyes grew wider, the glossy haze from good weed clearing as he spoke and suppressed the urge to show not tell.

How long would it take you to realise? That he had smudged the way you slept together into your skin with a pen this afternoon. How the memory of your body pressed against him is currently filling his cock with rich blood, thickening in his grasp. How the surprise, the curiosity on your face makes him want to fuck your pretty mouth, have you map each pulsing vein with a scrape of your teeth.

He drew you. Running your fingers across the smudgy navy scribbles on your skin, the picture takes shape. The curve of your hip, covered by his wide palm, the inch of a finger under his clothes on your body. The longer you stare at it the clearer it gets, the fold in the fabric as it shifts to accommodate his warm skin. You can almost feel his heavy breathing on the back of your neck, the accidental brush of his lips against your temple as you adjusted in the morning. The way he wrapped himself around you, pulled you into him and held you.

Your fingers trail your belly as you stare at it, the memories slipping into your consciousness without permission. They’ve done this everyday since. Crept into your vision whenever you have a moment to yourself, remembering the tacky canvas or the rich chocolate. You tried to convince yourself for more than a week that the heat that same with these memories was distorted, leftover from the drugs, making them heightened and sharp.

“Have you ever been properly fucked?”

You haven’t. He knows you haven’t. Knew it from the minute you appeared, soaking and tear stained in the middle of an inexplicable storm. He can see the edges of it now, like flowers pressed dry between the pages of a forgotten book. How much you want to be. How much you’re craving the permission to seek the pleasure you’ve denied yourself.

You deserve to be fucked that way. For him to tease and tempt and torment and make you crave it, the slide of his fingers inside you, the slip of his mouth between your thighs, the sticky mess of his cum on your tits, your face, dripping down to his waiting mouth as he hardens to take you again.

He squeezes himself in warning. The groan echoing of the slowly spinning blades of the fan above him. He stares at the roof, unwilling to look at the stain blooming across his sheets as he leaks precum at the thought of you straddling his face. He knows how you fit together now.

That morning, he could have pulled you closer, cradled you in the chalice of his body and slipped clothing off beneath heavy blankets. He could have hooked a finger into the waistband of his sweats on your hips and pulled them down, felt the heat between your thighs and pulled you plush against him.

You’d feel him, the way he’d harden against your back. That moment, it pulls you up short. You’ve found yourself circling your wrist some days, absently clasping fingers around the width of it, half a second from imagining before you snap yourself out of it.

Your hand dips beneath your underwear as you close your eyes in the dark, hiding from the acceptance that you’re going to let it happen now. You’re going to wonder what it would feel like, to have him match that movement, free himself and smack heavy into your skin.

You’d need preparing, he said. What did that mean? That all you had in the morning was a torturous glide from behind, the catch of the thick weeping head of his cock against your clit as he mumbled sleepy into your neck, pulled you closer to kiss the join of shoulder and sensitive skin?

Or would he take the time to do it every time, slip fingers deep inside you until you were relaxed enough to take him, until you could stretch yourself around him in a slick and blistering glide. Would you feel him from the outside? Press a palm to your stomach and feel the difference? How full you were from him, or would you be too far gone by then? Capable only of squirming back for more as he slipped slick fingers into your mouth for you to taste.

You’d be spread so wide for him. Over his thighs, the first time at least. A pillow shoved hastily under your hips to tilt you towards him, give him the chance to smack his cock against your clit and watch you grab the sheets in answer. The way the glittery strands of precum would stick to your skin, ropy and catching the light as he presses into you, watches the way your cunt sucks him in. He wants your body greedy, desperate for him, achingly empty. Squeezing and pulsing as he nudges enough to press heavy on your g spot. Another swipe of his thumb across your clit.

Your hips jerk at the contact, your fingers finding your clit, swollen and seeking beneath a practiced hand. Lower still, you feel it, the mess you’re making, the way it stains your underwear, slips free to pool into your sheets. Two of your own fingers is comfortable, a twist in your wrist as you fill against familiar spots. Three is a stretch, not painful, but present, an unfurling of a flower as your head falls back with a whimper, the burn racing up your spine as you try to separate your fingers, spread them wider. You picture Dieter’s hand on your wrist, the thickness of his fingers and try to match it.

Three would stretch you open, curled upright would have you arching against his sheets. He’d have to hold you down, band his arm across your stomach as he kissed your clit, soft enough to make you beg him for more of it, ask for what you want, for what you deserve. You’d be so messy, wet and loud as he fucked you with them, a gentle rhythm that would soak his knuckles when he bites your inner thigh. Will you be mad at him? When he stops to lick your mess off his fingers? Or will you like it, watching him suck each digit clean with a heavy groan.

His hips jerk, reminding him of his hand curled around his weeping cock, neglected by the temptation of this fantasy. Smooth long strokes, he likes the rhythm of a calm sea, the way it batters his insides with a tide of pleasure that squeezes the air from his lungs in a groan. He can feel the way his neck strains with the effort, the sticky drops of precum that leak across his fingers, slicking him further.

He wants them on your lips, wants them glossy and kiss swollen and wet, parted just enough for the softest brush of his cock against them. He wants to jerk off onto your waiting face, lick himself inside your mouth and fuck you, oversensitive and tender be damned, fill you up to the brim so he can lick it right back out again, clean you off with his face as you twist and shudder on these sheets.

Does he taste good? Does the heady earthy scent follow to his flavour, would it burst rich and thick across your tongue? Would you get a chance to swallow before he claimed your mouth as promised? You can hear the wet squelch beneath the heavy blankets, the awkward twist of your hand leading you to move your hips instead, fuck your own fingers while you imagine his.

You wouldn’t be able to if it was him. He’s bigger than you, broader and wider and heavier, and you stretch your thighs to feel the sting. If he was on top of you, that wide expanse of warm skin you’d be pinned, unable to do much more than take it. Than feel the stretch of his intimidating cock and the weight of his body as it cramped your lungs and invaded all your senses. Your skin would slip together, sweaty and hot beneath these blankets, the air so thick with arousal you could taste it with each breath.

He can see the sweat bead on your neck, clear as the night sky. The salty burst of you across his fantasy is enough to break the ruse, for his grip to tighten as he fucks up into his waiting fist, the clench of his stomach as he groans relief. The images come in waves, crashing one after another.

The sloppy wet mess of your cunt as he fucks his cum back inside you, shivering from overstimulation, your nails digging into his arm as you beg him for more, no other words to describe what he’s offering, the damp heat of your mouth wrapping around his balls as he squeezes drops of precum onto his knuckles, you bent over in his shirt and no underwear, you; legs spread over a mustard yellow armchair, you, you, you.

He would make noise when he came, low and long groans that would rattle through your system. You already know the talent he has with words; you’ve seen proof in paintings of the talent that lies in his hands. He would cradle your skull in a massive palm and feed those noises to you, grinding his hips with every pulse of his orgasm. You would feel it, stretched inside you as he fucks you full and doesn’t stop, desperate fingers seeking your aching clit to bring you one more with him, to feel the clench of you around him one more time.

You cry out when the orgasm hits you, clamping tight around your fingers as you shudder and bite off his name, feeling the rush of fluid on your fingers as your lungs shudder, struggling for breath as your body erupts in goosebumps, sparks of electricity going off throughout your skin.

You hesitate when washing your hands. The artwork can stay until morning.

You don’t like him in a suit. Its not that he doesn’t look good, the deep blue brings out the warmth in his eyes, and you have to get close enough to touch it to see the threads of silver that glitter like stars. His hair is pushed back, rings abandoned, and tattoos covered. His shoes are shined and look uncomfortable as he passes you another flute of semi-flat champagne.

He’s better at this than you are. Laughing and joking with your co-workers, holding polite and respectfully mild conversations with your superiors, lazily orbiting you like the moon as he snags canapes and sips a cheap whiskey.

It feels like a lie. You’re mournful for the softness of his t shirts. The threadbare robes and slept in hair. It doesn’t help that he’s done nothing but touch you all evening. Hooking his chin over your shoulder as his hand slides across your stomach, splaying a hand at the small of your back as he follows you to greet and introduce him to another senior partner.

You’d come up with a lie, that he was a lawyer from Connecticut. Far enough away that nobody would have heard of him, plausible enough that he would come to the city to see you for the holidays. Your tongue felt too thick to speak the words.

“This is Dieter – he owns his own business in the city” was what you compromised with. His eyebrows only raised for a moment before he went along. A firm handshake with the boss that had once made you cry as she greeted him with something approaching warmth.

He was a perfect gentleman, playing the part as if you’d cooked him up in a lab. You hate it. This isn’t him, it’s not who he is, and dragging him here and showing off this fake version of him makes your stomach twist in pain. You want to talk about his paintings. You want to talk about Owen and Molly. You want them to hear the story of Mallory, or the orchids he grows for fun.

You want them to meet him.

“Gosh you look so familiar” Todd says, shaking his head as he grips Dieter’s hand.

“Just one of those faces” Dieter replies with a practised ease. It’s the third time someone has said that to him tonight. Always the same response, brushing them off and pivoting the conversation to you as if he was returning a tennis serve.

“Todd - you’re working together on the Mayfair account, right?”

You’re too focused on him. You haven’t woven your way into a conversation with the senior partners. You haven’t moved more than two feet from him since you arrived, despite his insistence he would be happy to sit at the bar, appear only when you put your arm behind your back. He’s talking to everyone, charismatic and bright and the anger is bubbling from a wellspring without a name.

He doesn’t belong to them. He doesn’t fit here, these clinically white walls don’t match his colour, the suit fits him like a second skin, and there’s no room for you to crawl inside it.

You excuse yourself to the bathroom, running cold water on your wrists as you look at yourself in the fluorescent lit mirror. You try to settle yourself, checking the time and promising fifteen more minutes before you drag him out of here, find some all-night diner to split a milkshake and hot salty fries to dip in it. You want to go back to his apartment, share a joint and talk about Bette Davis. You don’t want to do this.

“He’s quite something” your boss says, appearing from behind you to wash her carefully manicured hands in the sink.

“Thank you. I think so” the truth tastes like blueberries.

“Seems to have a great deal of knowledge about what we do here. That’s good – means you’re bringing it home with you.” She offers you a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

Todd and the Mayfair account. You had mentioned that in passing weeks ago. The way he greeted your boss, a handshake just a little firmer than it needed to be, a hint of steel behind his eyes. The way he’s here at all, no questions asked. The way he’s never judged you, never asked you for anything, but has always always shown up.

You watch him from behind a fake rubber tree. He makes one of the senior partners laugh, gets a clap on the shoulder as he scans the room, glass lifted to his lips. when he spots you, he excuses himself, dropping the glass on a tray carried by a bored looking waiter.

“That guy has the highest opinion of himself of anyone I’ve ever met. You think his wife is into it? Is he like that in bed? Proclaiming his own glory?”

He scrubs a hand across his trimmed beard. You don’t like that either.

“Nah probably not. I think he’s the type to need some discipline from somewhere. They probably have a dungeon in their house up in the Hamptons, which he invited us to over Christmas. I told him we had plans, because I like you a lot, but I don’t think you want to be talked into swinging with your boss and his wife, no matter how good a job the plastic surgeon did on her tits. I mean, if you want to, I might be persuaded, but if we are going then I’m gonna need a weeks’ notice to get a sheet of LSD because I’ve found that if you’re going to be in a dungeon, it really helps to heighten the experience somehow, and I don’t think weed will be enough”

You grab his hand, stopping him as he looks down at you, his eyes creasing with concern.

“Are you okay? We don’t really have to go to the dungeon Lou”

“Dieter… kiss me.”

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo / you #dieter bravo fanfiction #the bubble fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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wardenparker · 2 years ago

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You’re So Vain - Chapter 4

Dieter Bravo x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

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

Rating: Teen. But this blog is *always* 18+ Word Count: 10k Warnings: *Blanket warning for chronic illness, cursing, and deceased family members. This is a Dieter fic, folks, so there absolutely will be discussions of drugs, drug use, and addiction.* Enemies to lovers, fake dating, arguments, money talk, references to past drug use, angst, literally SO much guilt, Carol Cobb gets her own warning. Summary: Steph carefully breeches the topic of her conversation with Dieter, the man himself drops by with an unexpected surprise, and date number two goes awry despite Libby’s best attempt. Notes: A little more backstory comes out in this chapter, folx! Sincerely hope you enjoy 💗

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3

The only reason Steph didn’t wake up with a hangover was because of the bottle of water and aspirin that - what was his name? - Rico insisted that she take while waiting for the car. Handing her the San Pelligrino and the tablets with a smile that had made her stomach twist pleasantly and a wink that had heated her cheeks. “Sparkling water is the key to no hangover the next morning.” He informed her, asking her for her keys in the next breath so her car could be returned to her. That’s the only reason she’s awake before you, feeling slightly guilty about her conversation with Dieter the night before and how she can convince you to just talk to him.

“Morning.” The way you walk downstairs this morning can only be described as a trudge, and you practically throw yourself at the coffee pot, mumbling something about “glorious bean of life” before starting to pull things out of the refrigerator to make breakfast.

“How are you feeling?” Steph asks softly, walking up behind you and rubbing your back slightly. She hadn’t been able to comfort Dieter but she damn well could comfort you.

You huff, holding up your cell phone to show her the long, professionally-worded but highly unprofessional text message you had woken up to from the manager of the restaurant that had just hired you for the summer - firing you. “Apparently my manager is a Dieter Bravo fan,” you hiccup, willing yourself not to cry all over again. “Well, my former manager.”

“Shit.” Steph sighs and shakes her head. “I’m so sorry.” She sympathizes with you, it’s going to be different, having it known that Dieter is your soulmate. Libby had put out a comment from Dieter’s IG this morning, apparently having control over it. It was something about how like all couple, all soulmates, there are good days and bad days. Insinuating that it was just a bad day.

“It’s fine.” That’s a goddamn lie and you both know it, but you just shrug your shoulders. “Their food sucks anyway. And I still have more applications out, so I’m sure something else will come along.”

“You shouldn’t work this summer.” Steph decides, brightening up dramatically and grinning at you. “You don’t need the money, not with the debt paid off. Your normal salary from teaching will cover your summer. Take it off. Spend it painting.” The more she thinks about it, the more she loves it. “You haven’t gotten to paint just because you want to in soooooo long.” And the fact that Dieter made it happen doesn’t hurt, in her opinion.

“I guess it would help with other expenses.” If you were home, Nora wouldn’t have to go to daycare for the rest of the summer. You’d never be too tired to cook, and you would always have time to do the errands instead of paying for deliveries. You’d use a lot less expensive gas and avoid putting more miles on your junker of a car. “I guess…I never considered being a stay-at-home Gigi.”

“You don’t have to do that.” Steph shakes her head quickly. “I was talking about taking time for you, not watching Nora.”

“I can’t do both?” You pose, knowing childcare is her primary expense now that there is no more mortgage and no more hospital debt. The regular bills for Nora’s care are plenty high enough but not having to pay childcare would help extraordinarily. “I could get Nora some finger paints and just take her with me if I want to go somewhere pretty for the day.”

“How about we keep the option open?” Steph asks. “We keep her registered for the drop-in daycare for the summer. You shouldn’t have to spend all summer watching your niece.”

“I love my niece.” Leaning back against the kitchen counter with your mug in your hand is a soothing, normal act that gives you an extra moment to breathe. She’s right. You don’t need extra work this summer. You can make it through by being smart with what you have. Just as long as your car doesn’t break down or something, everything will be fine. “Alright. Drop-in daycare.” You acquiesce after thinking it over a little longer. “Now, what do you want for breakfast?”

“Whatever you want to make.” Steph has given up trying to protest that you don’t have to cook all the time, knowing you will pout at her. You enjoy it and so she lets you. “You know me.” She picks up her own mug and wonders how to broach the slightly forbidden subject. “Will eat anything.”

The sounds of Elena of Avalor are obvious from the living room as Nora watches her favourite cartoon, and you actually smile for the first time since last night. As long as you have these two, everything will turn out okay somehow. “How about some banana chocolate chip French toast and scrambled eggs?” Banana chocolate chip anything was Nora and Steph’s favourite, and you still had supplies left from the batch of muffins you made about a week ago. “And we can do go out something to do today, maybe? Since I don’t have to serve brunch to bloggers and tourists now?”

“Sure.” Steph checks the clock and wonders when her car will be dropped off. Pretty damn sure she needs to say something before you are surprised by it. “So…you passed out last night…” she ventures softly.

“Tequila and crying does that.” Heavy drinking on an empty stomach always made you sleepy right after it made you giggly. “I’ll replace that bottle, by the way…sorry.”

“Don’t worry about that.” She rolls her eyes that that is what you are worried about. “So, I did something. After you fell asleep.” She confesses softly. “You might be mad at me.”

“Why?” You narrow your eyes at her suspiciously, knowing exactly what kind of chicanery she’s capable of. “Did you put itching powder in my clothes again? Because it wasn’t funny at camp and it wouldn’t be funny now.”

“No, nothing like that.” She sets her mug down on the table and sighs, turning to you. “I went to Dieter’s house last night to kick his ass.” She’s not lying. That had been her reason for showing up. It’s just hadn’t ended up that way.

“You what?!” The sip of scalding coffee you had just taken is spit out immediately, barely missing her arm as you turn your head. “Steph!”

“What?!” She crosses her arms over her chest and stands firm. “He hurt my best friend and I was going to hurt him for it.”

“Was going to meaning you didn’t?” It’s not so much that she had the intention. That’s noble of her and you love her for her noble tendencies. It’s that she promised she wouldn’t meddle anymore and here she is meddling. “Did the Emperor of Douchebaggery turn you away at the gate or something?”

She sighs heavily, her stomach twisting, and she knows she needs to be very careful how she approaches this. “No, I yelled at him.” She admits. “Babe…you need to talk to him. Not snark, not insult, talk to him.”

“Why in god’s name would I do that?” All thoughts of breakfast have been abandoned at this revelation and you don’t even feel bad about it. Half-stale bread and bananas will still be there when you’re done being appalled with your best friend. “He’s insufferable and I’ll be glad when this whole thing is over.”

“Because you were both wrong.” Steph tells you. “If you talk to him, you’ll realize just how sideways things got.” She should have known you would be stubborn about this. “He had a very good reason for ignoring me that day. The day that started all your hatred towards him.”

“Then you tell me, and I won’t have to talk to him.” That isn’t really the day that started it - it’s the day that cemented it - but you’re not about to argue semantics with her with Nora in the next room.

“It’s not my place to tell you.” Steph shakes her head, barely refraining from rolling her eyes at how petulant you sound. “You need to talk to him.”

“You’re going to be noble about this when you literally went back on your word and continued to meddle less than twelve hours ago?” The fucking audacity. The unbelievable presumptuousness. “You know what?” Setting your coffee mug down in the sink, all you can do is shake your head at her. “You’re always telling me I work too hard at home. Go ahead and make your own breakfast and you can do the yard work yourself, too. I’ll be in my room.” There is no possible way you can move fast enough to get away from her right now, and you don’t even stop for the ring of the doorbell. It’s all complete bullshit and you just need time away from everyone right now. Away from the entire world.

Steph deflates, not sure how it went that bad. She hadn’t expected you to just completely shut down. Shuffling to the door, she opens it, finding the person you loathe most on the doorstep. “Dieter!” Honestly, as drunk as he was, she had expected him to be later than eleven.

“Are you kidding me?” Hearing that he’s at the door makes you spin around at the top of the stairs and stamp your way down them again like a petulant child - or an angry elephant. Maybe both. “What did you do? Invite him over to force us to talk?”

Dieter scoffs, barely sparing you a glance and looks pointedly back at Stephanie. “I wanted to bring your car back, but honestly? How the fuck are you driving that? It’s a shitbox.” He asks her, having been horrified when he got in it and turned it on to find lights flashing at him. Rico had looked at it and said it was toast. “It was on its last leg.”

“It’s okay.” Steph shakes her head and shrugs a little as she steps aside to let him in. “I can afford to take it to a mechanic now.”

“Nope.” Shaking his head, he gives her the bad news. “Mechanic I know said it will never pass its next inspection and it’ll cost more than it’s worth to fix.”

“Shoot.” Aware of her child in the next room, Steph’s head hangs a little and she pinches her eyes shut.

“Use mine.” You tell her immediately, knowing that even though your car isn’t in the best shape, it’s better than having none. Being upset with her has evaporated in the face of more hardship. “We just said I’m not taking extra work this summer, so I won’t need it. Stay-at-home Gigi is on duty.”

“I researched cars.” Dieter is a little proud of that, checking safety ratings and shit before he decided on one. “I, uh, come look.” He insists, holding out a brand-new key fob. “If you don’t like it, we can switch it for something else.”

“What the heck…?” Steph blindly reaches for Dieter’s hand instead of the key fob, going out the door with him to find a brand new, navy blue SUV in the driveway. She’s read about this particular one, she realizes, as he rambles slightly about why he chose it. The VW Atlas Cross is supposed to be one of the best family cars out there. “Dieter, you didn’t need to do this.” This time, propriety be damned, she flings her arms around his neck and squeezes. There’s never going to be any way in the world she can repay him, but fuck if she won’t tell everyone she ever meets for the rest of her life what an amazing guy Dieter Bravo is.

Dieter grunts, wrapping his arms around Steph and squeezing slightly before he lets go. In some ways, she reminds him of Danica. Not in physicality, but her spirit. She’s been through so much, but she still has compassion and kindness in her. He’s aware that you have followed but he doesn’t pay attention to you. “For those national park trips.” He tells her. “Although there’s somewhere else you’re going first.”

“What are you—” Steph wipes the tears from her eyes and hesitates to take a closer look at the car, like it’s too good to be true. Because honestly it is. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I just so happened to have been given a couple of passes to Disneyland.” He pulls the VIP lanyards that are Star Wars themed out of his pocket and hands them to her. Two of them. Only two of them, even though he had more. “My friend got a shit ton of them when they opened something that had to do with his show.”

“Oh my…” If she ever stops crying it will be too soon, the heartbreaking gratitude of a young mother who wants to be able to give her child the world and has barely been able to manage to give her a semblance of normality. She hugs Dieter again fiercely before looking back at you with a pleasing expression. Please talk to him, it says loud and clear, and you roll your eyes so hard they nearly fall out of your head but ultimately nod. He may be able to buy Steph’s forgiveness, but not yours.

“Go tell Nora,” you urge her, nodding back into the house.

When Stephanie rushes into the house, Dieter shoves his hands in his pockets. Jeans today, faded and old, but more respectable than the lounge pants he normally wore. Classic rock t-shirt and a cardigan thrown over it that didn’t match anything but his own tastes. Looking around the yard, down to where Rico was waiting in his own car at the street. He has nothing really to say to you, especially since that fucking attitude of yours hasn’t seemed to change at all.

“Thank you.” The words are quiet. Barely audible, really, as you stand in the front step in your own jeans and t-shirt that you barely had the will to throw on after being fired this morning. “You…um…it’s nice to see her happy. She deserves the whole world.”

“She’s nice.” Dieter tells you, surprised you even said anything to him. “I like nice people.”

“So do I.” Two words in and he already has you exasperated, and you shake your head. “She thinks we should talk.” It’s not exactly high on your list of priorities or good things in any way, shape, or form, but Steph has an annoying habit of finding the good in people. If anyone could find the good in Dieter fucking Bravo, it would be her. “But I see you have someone waiting for you.” The urge to ask if it’s a new boy toy in the car is nearly overwhelming, but you somehow manage to swallow it down.

“Rico can wait.” He faces you, arching a brow and wondering if this talk would include some kind of apology. “What do you want to talk about?”

“All Stephy said was that we should talk.” You shove your hands in your jeans on the front step facing him and shrug. “She said we were both wrong and that if I talked to you, I would realize how sideways I have it. Whatever it is.”

Snorting, Dieter narrows his eyes at you, annoyed that you don’t think you’ve don’t anything wrong. The urge to slap you down into place - verbally, not physically, of course - is immense. “She seems to think you would change your mind about me if you knew that the reason I ignored her when she asked for my autograph ten years ago is because I had just found out my twin sister died in a car crash. But I doubt that would make any difference to you. God forbid someone be in shock, right? Just an asshole actor.” He practically spits the words at you, still angry that you insulted his sister, even if you didn’t know you did.

Everything stops - not in that glorious way you’ve heard so many people talk about where their hearts swell with love and joy at encountering their soulmate, but with the frozen horror of realizing you’ve been very, very wrong about something for a very long time. “I—” Shame isn’t typically something you feel, from your daily and worldly interactions. It isn’t very high up on the list of everyday emotions for most people, you would guess. But right now, it’s hot under your skin and drying your mouth out until there’s nothing left to swallow. “I’m—I’m sorry.” There are a lot of things you’re not sorry for, but you can definitely feel the pain of losing a beloved sibling and your shoulders shrink in like you’re about to roll up into a ball and disappear. Or at least try. “I didn’t even know you had a sister.”

Dieter can be petty, and an asshole, so he’s not done raking you over to coals yet. “That ‘meaningless, edgy drivel’ on my arm? That was my sister’s tattoo. She was into symbolic shit. Past, present, future. Three sides of a triangle.” He yanks up his sleeve. “The empty triangle was my tribute to her. For how fucking gutted I was by her death.” He shoves it back down and steps closer to you, poking a finger into your chest lightly. “So now you know why you can go fuck yourself.” Dieter turns around and starts walking down the drive to his car and Rico, the image of your horrified face burning into his mind more than he wants to admit.

“Hey Steph?” Despite barely being able to process anything, you manage to turn and walk back into the house, letting the door click gently shut behind you. “I—um…” The joyful way she’s standing with Nora on her hip as the little girl just explodes with excitement makes you stop, not wanting to ruin their fun. “C-can I talk to you for a sec?”

Steph looks up and she knows, she knows that Dieter has told you. You look stricken, like you’ve been slapped across the face and Steph immediately turns to Nora. “Okay baby, I need you to go upstairs and start finding all your Toy Story toys you want to bring with you tomorrow.”

Nora is off like a shot, too excited to notice anything else that’s going on, and all you can manage is to slump down on the corner of the couch like a collapsing box. “Fuck…” It’s saved for as soon as your niece is out of earshot, but the word is so quiet that you doubt she would have heard you anyway.

“I’m sorry.” Steph hums, sitting down beside you. “It wasn’t my place to tell you that. I hope you can see why now.” She murmurs softly, reaching over and pulling you towards her for a hug.

“I have never gotten so irrationally angry with another person the way I do with him.” The fact is, you are still upset. With how he handled it last night and how he left it just a minute ago. You’re still mad, and yet there’s now this sliver of shame and regret wedged in beside it.

“Apparently she was his twin and he loved her more than anyone.” She murmurs sadly. “He— he learned about it over the phone and then walked out where I asked him for an autograph.”

“So, what…have I just made it all up? Is he actually attentive and sweet and noble and I’ve just missed it somehow?” That doesn’t seem right, but at this point you have to be willing to admit that you don’t know everything there is to know about the situation and yes - that bothers the hell out of you. “I mean, he’s not Prince Charming, right? He’s aggravating and uncommunicative. I didn’t just make that up.”

“Since he already told you the worst, I’ll tell you the rest.” Steph sighs, wishing you two would have sat down and talked like adults. “The guy he was with? Soon after you decided he wasn’t your soulmate?” She waits until you nod. “Apparently the guy conned him. Convinced him he was his soulmate so he could steal from him.”

“Fucking hell…” You groan shrinking back against Steph’s smaller body and burying your face in your hands. “I can’t even imagine what I would have done if somebody showed up like that after Shawn died.”

“I don’t think he’s perfect.” Steph assures you. “But maybe some of the ways he acts is like his armor, protecting himself from being hurt. It’s easier if people don’t expect things from you.”

“An armour that happens to be full of things that drive me completely insane.” Her hand rubbing soothing circles on your back is calming in that very mom way that has come so naturally to your best friend, and you let out another muffled groan of frustration. “He’s been really nice to you…”

“He has been.” Steph can’t help but grin, unable to believe that he has been so generous. “He asked about Nora last night, seemed genuinely interested in her.”

“He…he likes miniature humans.” Quoting him is an odd feeling halfway in between making your skin crawl with latent frustration and…somehow sort of nice. “Thinks they’re uncomplicated. Which I guess isn’t wrong, per se.”

Chuckling, Steph shakes her head. “No, it’s not.” She agrees, continuing to rub your back. “Honestly? Last night he seemed hurt that you hated him from the moment you met him. He was really drunk.”

“It’s not like I’ve suddenly decided I’m in love with him,” you clarify immediately. There is absolutely no fucking chance of that happening. “He still makes me irrationally upset and I still don’t think we’re a good match. I just…I don’t understand what the fudge the universe was thinking.”

“Why does he make you so upset?” Steph has always wondered, but you would never talk about it before. “Why do you think he’s not a good match for you? Because you decided it?”

“Everyone like him I’ve ever known has turned out to be the worst, most selfish, most careless kind of person in the world.” There’s no chance that she doesn’t remember what happened to you that summer after high school - she had been out on a date with Shawn when he got the call from the hospital. “I think…I-I’d rather hate him then let him hurt me.”

“Right…” Stephanie hums, not wanting to invalidate your experience by rolling her eyes, but she thinks you are generalizing and unfairly judging him. Again. “Because buying a total stranger a car because hers is a complete junker and a safety hazard is the definition of careless and selfish.” She pauses for a moment and then sighs. “He paid off my debt to help his soulmate. Even after you insulted him.”

“Maybe he likes you.” The concept of Dieter Bravo being a good man is something you’ve pushed so far from your mind’s realm of reality that you don’t really even know how to grasp at it. And you’re not even sure you want to, since you’re still up in the air about the whole soulmate thing to begin with.

“No.” Steph is sure of that. She didn’t feel anything between her and Dieter and there was one more thing that he had said that stuck with her last night. “He didn’t want me to tell you about everything.” She reveals. “Afraid that he would learn that his soulmate really did hate him.”

“So I’m the villain for wanting to protect myself?” Turning your head, you look up at your best friend - your sister - with a pleading that you didn’t even know you were capable of. “Is this really just me? Please tell me I didn’t just make it all up.” There are times you wonder about that day in Haight Ashbury, trying in vain to fill in the blanks of everything you’ll never be able to remember. Times you wonder if it was all your fault like the cops had claimed. Is this all your fault too and you just couldn’t see it?

Steph reaches for your hand, squeezing it gently. “I think…” she murmurs softly. “That your past is not as far behind you as you think that it might be.” She states kindly. “You also have a right to protect yourself, but you’ve never heard of Dieter being violent or reckless, have you? Driving while intoxicated? Or anything beyond his own self-destructive tendencies?”

“You’ve read more about him than I have.” She’s never made a secret of the fact that she was still a fan during the years that you would riot if someone so much as said his name around you. “You…you would know better than me, I guess.”

“I’m not going to tell you what to do, or how to feel.” She tells you. “I’m just going to ask if you feel good about what happened. Or if you would like someone making the same assumptions about you if the roles were reversed.”

“You should take Nora to Disneyland today.” You tell her, sitting up again. Whatever else happens today, you have a lot to think about and a lot to reconsider. “Or at least take her for a drive in the new car. She’d like that.” More than anything else, you’re pretty sure you just need to be alone right now. “Or I can just go hide in my room like I was going to. Except…less angry. Or just…just mad at someone else. Not you.”

“I think I’ll take her for a drive.” Steph decides. “I think we will get up early and go tomorrow. Make sure we have plenty of time to see everything.” She bites her lip. “Do you want to come with us tomorrow?” You would have to pay, but it’s a lot easier than it was a few days ago.

“No.” Despite the answer actually being an empathic yes because of your boundless love for Disney escapism, you shake your head. “People might recognize me. I don’t want Nora’s first Disney trip to be ruined because Aunt Gigi is a raging bitch.”

Steph sighs, slightly annoyed with the fact that you refuse to see that you might actually deserve a little bit of the way Dieter treated you. No doubt you haven’t been a ray of sunshine towards him. Instead of battling that out, she pats your hand and shifts to stand up. “Nora! Come downstairs, sweetie! Let’s go for a ride in mommy’s new car!”

“Have fun, guys.” Pulling yourself up from the couch, it’s pretty clear to you that today is going to be spent berating yourself in bed. You just wonder if Steph sees that. She seems annoyed all over again. “Go get some good salt air.”

******

“I’m not going.” Dieter huffs, even as he’s putting on his clothes. He hasn’t spoken to you since the day he dropped off the car for Stephanie and he would prefer to keep it that way. Even if Libby had used the invites to the Adele concert Dieter had as leverage. Which was un-fucking-fair of her.

“Yes, you are.” These conversations with him usually precede red carpet or press events, both of which he hates, so Libby is reasonably used to them. “There are no dinner reservations, no planned after party to go to, and the only time you’ll have to make conversation will be in the very short time before and after the concert. You’re not even picking her up.” She tries for a smile as she holds out his jacket to him. “But if you could see fit to not scowl at her all night and maybe even hold her hand? I’ll book you a solo spa day in gratitude.”

He sighs. Rolling his eyes and pouting, he feels like he’s going to fucking claw his eyes out. “Let me do a line?” He begs. “Then I’ll be able to handle her.”

“Not a chance.” She shakes her head and holds out the jacket again. “You’ve been doing so well, Dee, and I know you can keep it up.”

“If this is a disaster again, I’m just going to fucking retire.” He mutters, unwilling to do anything more with you if you are hateful again. He takes the jacket and puts it on, grumbling under his breath.

“It won’t be.” There is not, of course, any way that Libby can be sure of that, but she had a long conversation with you this week and feels secure in the idea that even though it might not be the best date in history, you’re not going to scream at him unprompted this time.

“Meet her there, smile, hold her hand, leave separately and then shower.” He ticks off the list of things to do and checks his reflection, fiddling with his earring and wondering how something he had been looking forward to was now something he dreads.

“Just enjoy the concert.” She reminds him, knowing that getting lost in the music will help him forget being annoyed with you should it happen again tonight. “You’ll be home before you know it.”

“Yeah.” Dieter isn’t nearly as optimistic as Libby is. Grabbing his keys, he looks at himself one more time. This will be a filmed event, again. “She probably hates Adele.” He huffs to himself as he walks out the door.

******

“He probably hates Adele,” you shake your head at your reflection and at the reflection of Steph sitting on your bed just like she did before the last date. The dress they sent this time is glittery - the colour of champagne - with sheer sleeves that will definitely show off the tattoos you’ve spent extra time staring at this week and a neckline meant to show off your — er — assets. “Libby asked me my favourite singer and that was the end of that part of the conversation.”

“You don’t know that.” Steph argues and raises a brow. “Look at it this way, you are going to see the concert everyone else is dying to see!” She tells you excitedly. “Nora and I will have to watch it at home like the commoners we are.” She teases. “I’m gonna record it in case we see you onscreen!”

“Maybe you can see my humiliation live this time.” Though you’ve promised yourself you’ll be on good behaviour, and even hashed out the legal consequences on not fulfilling the contract with Libby, you’re still sure something will go haywire tonight. With a long, measured breath, you put in the earrings you picked out to go with the dress and heels and turn to face Steph. “Acceptable?”

“You look beautiful.” She murmurs, meaning every word of it before she looks at the clock. “Your car should be here any minute.”

“Keep your finger crossed that nothing catastrophic happens.” You huff, trying for a joke but genuinely worrying that it is a possibility. “I’m gonna kiss Nora goodnight and go wait for the car. I think a little fresh air will do me good.”

“Okay.” Steph sighs as you walk out, praying that one of you would just give a little. That’s all it would take. Having spent time with Dieter, she honestly thinks the universe didn’t make a mistake at all.

The car that pulls up five minutes later is driven by a man a few years younger than you, and you vaguely think you recognize him but can’t place from what, so you shake it off and thank him when he opens the back door for you. If nothing else, the concert will be nice - you just have to keep telling yourself that.

There’s no little amount of disappointment that the other woman, Steph, didn’t come outside. Rico’s disappointed, had been hoping to catch a glimpse of her again, although now he’s given a firsthand look at the woman who had his boss tied up in knots. At least a look that isn’t from the street and where you aren’t both furious and horrified. “We will be there in about forty minutes, miss.” He informs you after he slides back behind the wheel. “Mr. Bravo will meet you there.”

“What’s your name?” The fact that there is a whole legion of people who work for Dieter is something you’ve been having trouble wrapping your head around, and you’re trying to be good about making sure you talk to everyone you cross paths with. Dieter may hate you - but you don’t want the people who work for him to hate you, too.

“Rico, ma’am.” Rico answers you, pulling away and his eyes look up at the rear-view mirror to watch you for a moment before he looks at the road again.

“You don’t need to call me ma’am, or miss, or anything like that. Just my name is fine.” The streets move by with increasing speed as he heads out to the highway, and you settle back for the drive. “So. What’s your story, Rico?”

“Same as nearly everyone in this town.” Rico laughs. “Came to LA to be the next star and it didn’t work out.” He gives a shrug, honestly finding the work wasn’t what he imagined it would be, so he’s not disappointed. “Found work with Mr. Bravo when I was waiting on him and had to muscle out the paps from harassing him.” He continues on. “Hired me on as security and keeps me close because of my grandma’s secret vodka sauce and homemade noodles.”

“God, I love vodka sauce.” You laugh a little in response, thinking of all those times you and Steph had tried to make the dish in college but ended up just drinking the vodka instead. “So you’re security, driver, and super-secret private chef?”

"Something like that." Rico smiles, looking back at you, finding it hard to imagine that you and his boss mix like oil and water. Maybe more like oil and vinegar, just needing a few spices to make it perfect to soak up.

“Do you like it?” The way people treat their employees - or any kind of subordinate - speaks volumes about them and you’re curious to know what his employees think of him. “Working for him, I mean?”

"Absolutely!" Rico grins, nodding his head even as he navigates the streets towards your destination. "Mr. Bravo is a pretty cool employer. He lets me fix him whatever I'm in the mood for, unless he's really got a craving for something. Even insisted I take off when my ma fell and broke her hip. My parents own a restaurant back in Jersey and they needed help while she healed. Told me to go and that I would continue getting paid while I was gone."

“That’s nice of him. Putting family first.” From what you know of him now, that makes sense to you. Dieter’s sister is the only family of his you know of, but he clearly loved her.

“It’s cuz he doesn’t have any.” Rico murmurs, slowing down at the light and putting on his signal.

“Right.” You nod vaguely in the backseat and pick nervously at a loose thread in the purse you were sent to use tonight. “Well, I’m glad you like what you do, Rico. That’s a lot more than most people can say.”

“Yes ma’am.” He senses that you don’t really have much more to say, so he doesn’t say anything else and when the light turns green, in standard LA fashion, he gets honked at before he can make the turn even though he started going right away.

******

The venue is swarming with people as Rico pulls the car carefully through the crowd, and people are peering through the tinted windows trying to see who is sitting in the back. Whoever they’re expecting, it definitely isn’t you - and you distinctly hear someone from the sidewalk ‘Boo’ your appearance as one of the venue employees helps you out of the car. There’s sort of a miniature red carpet set up and all you can do is desperately hope that Dieter is around here somewhere, because you have no idea what to do in a situation like this one.

‘At least you clean up nicely.’ That’s what’s floating through his head as Dieter spots you, sighing to himself, thankful that at least you haven’t shown up in a burlap sack to protest him being your soulmate. He sets down the water bottle and moves over towards you, trying not to glare as he walks up.

“Hey, there you are.” Don’t sound accusatory, you remind yourself, and even manage to smile. He cleaned up for tonight too - dress pants and a button-down shirt and a leather jacket. Deliberately not saying a word about the sunglasses he’s still wearing; you fold in on yourself a little and wish for the quiet security of the car with all the shouting voices and cameras around. “Um…Steph says hi. Nora had an amazing time at Disney, and she drew you a picture.” You pat your purse gently. “I’ll give it to you inside?”

“Good.” Dieter actually smiles at that, imagining how thrilled the little girl must have been to experience Disney. Rolling his eyes, he takes off his sunglasses before you can bitch and shoves them into his pocket. Squinting at the sun that is still bright and blinking a few times before he motions towards the security line. “Ready to go in?”

“Yeah.” Libby’s voice is in your head reminding you of what’s at stake tonight and you step a little closer to him as he turns toward the building. You’re going to be on your best behaviour tonight if it kills you.

Well aware that cameras are focusing on the two of you – given the last two meetings that have ended up on social media. He needs to play nice. Despite his feelings. Dieter reaches for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours and gives you a small smile when you look over at him.

The pictures, when you see them later, will clearly betray the look of surprise on your face, and a few will even capture the small smile on your lips as the two of you walk inside together. It seems like maybe Libby had given both of you a talking to and it’s showing tonight. “So, do you…um…do you like Adele?” If you were any more awkward about it there should be a dunce cap for one of you to wear.

"She's honestly one of my favorites." Dieter admits, although he feels like he shouldn't. It seems so personal to share that with you. Especially given how you feel about him, more ammunition for you to judge the jackass that you thought him to be. Although, he was a jackass, he wasn't quite the monster that you think him. "I've been looking forward to this." His lips turn down in a slight frown at how Libby used this to get him to be seen with you again. "It's why I'm here."

There is absolutely no world in which he came here tonight with any sort of positive attitude toward seeing you again, and you can’t exactly be mad about that. But it’s reassuring to know that all both of you will have to do tonight is keep your mouths shut and you might actually enjoy yourselves. Hopefully you can keep your mouths shut. “She’s my favourite.” You tell him quietly, watching as he ducks as many cameras as he acknowledges and how many people are trying to get his attention.

Dieter doesn't say anything, but he does give your hand the slightest amount of extra pressure on it. Just for a moment while he lifts his other hand and greeting towards the cameras and smiles. Trying to turn on the Bravo charm and give Libby exactly what she wants for this event. A smiling, happy couple that are excited to be seen together and attend this concert. He ignores the shouted questions, tugging you closer and letting go of your hand to wrap his arm around your waist and bring you to his side while the cameras click away.

It’s blinding and unpleasant, all these cameras going off and people shouting in your direction, but your rule for tonight is just smile and get through it. Despite his gait being a little unpredictable, Dieter is solid beside you and his arm at your waist has that same tingling feeling in under your skin that you’ve had whenever he’s touched you so far. Which is extremely annoying.

He's surprised you haven't already pulled away, but you haven't. Warm and honestly slightly comforting beside him. There's a reason he would show up with whoever was in his orbit at the time to shit like this. The red carpet is short and the two of you manage to make it inside the venue, the large open aired arena one that the photogs weren't allowed into. Only the camera crews that are for the special are allowed. Giving all the celebrities a moment to breath, including Dieter. "We survived." He murmurs, dropping his arm from around your waist, knowing you don't want him touching you any more than he wants to.

“We did.” And though you will never, ever admit it to anyone - you kind of get the sunglasses now. At least in a situation like that. Having so many cameras flash at you on the way in has given you spots in your vision that you now have to blink away and hope that does the trick. “Oh, uh — here.” From the brand-new, Libby-approved, designer purse you’re carrying, you pull a carefully folded piece of paper in an envelope. Dieter’s name is written across it in crayon, with Nora’s halting handwriting on full display. “I don’t want to forget.” You don’t want to miss giving it to him in case things go to hell in a hand basket.

“Thank you.” Dieter opens it up, seeing two stick figures that are obviously supposed to be her and her mom next to a castle. He grins and nods to himself before he carefully folds it back up into the envelope and puts it in his jacket pocket to keep safe.

The silence between you is loaded, but it’s better than shouting. The search for your seats is easy considering they��re in the second row, and you cringe to think that this awkward second date of yours will be immortalized on a recording but that is literally what you signed up for. The only thing you can do now is - as you keep reminding yourself - be on your best behavior. You can handle tonight being tense and awkward as long as it’s not horrible again.

Dieter does all the right things, motioning for you to sit down before he does, unbuttoning his jacket and settling beside you. He is hoping you don’t start anything; Libby had warned him about it. What he potentially could lose. There is role he wants, that he’s the lead choice and he just has to make nice with you and get through this.

People around you are in predictably good moods, and some of them chat around or at you but for the most part you're just a curiosity. Some questions about what you do or where you're from are inevitable though most people seem aware and there was definitely one 'knowing' wink that insinuated that you are paid companionship that you did not enjoy. It's a mercy when the concert starts because it brings all conversation to a full halt, and you realize Dieter hasn't spoken a single word to you since you gave him the picture that Nora drew for him.

Honestly, it’s not going to badly. Dieter hadn’t heard a snarky, insulting comment from you yet and he wonders when it will come. He’s sure it will, you can’t help yourself. Instead of obsessing over it as the lights dim, he puts his fingers in his mouth and whistles loudly as the first cords of the intro song plays.

The cameras that sweep the audience from time to time are definitely catching sight of the front rows, and you start to understand why Libby sent over such an eye-catching dress for this night. Tonight, you are a well-behaved couple that will be caught on camera to last for as long as digital media exists.

There’s a moment of hesitation for you, right before you do it, where the question of whether or not the gesture is too large definitely comes to your mind. But when the camera sweeps by during Set Fire to the Rain, you slip your hand over to sit casually in Dieter’s, just like a couple enjoying a love song. It’s deeply uncomfortable that you don’t know how he’ll react, but you’re going to hold up your end of this fucking deal if it kills you.

Your hand is soft. Very soft. It's the first thing he thinks of when your hand slips into his. The words of the song pour through him and he closes his eyes, trying to imagine what it would be like to be in love like that. For one brief moment after Libby told him that his soulmate had been found, he had wondered if you would be that for him. Pushing it away for fear of being hurt, being used again. Everything since then has convinced that he will not find that with you. However, this is to polish his tarnished image and he will play his role.

When he doesn't immediately snatch his hand away or somehow make it uncomfortable for you to keep your hand in his, you let it sit. The biggest mistake you could make right now would be to think that this is anything but an act - but in the back of your head there's a little part of you that has to wonder. What would it be like if you didn't drive each other completely insane?

Dieter knows he is a lot of things. Childish, argumentative, often selfish, and used to getting his way. He is someone that has been catered to as his fame had grown. But he also remembered not to step on people. His destruction was mainly self-directed and never meant to hurt others. He did what he wanted when he wanted. He was free to do that. Whether it was roles he wanted to play or turn down, drugs he wanted to snort, or people he wanted to fuck - he wasn't beholden to anyone. Right now, he feels like he is beholden to you, and he's not sure if he hates it or is curious about it.

The last time you held hands with someone besides Steph or Nora was probably before your little niece was even born. It goes on after the song is over, almost like you're both too stubborn to be the first one to 'give up' on pretending to be fond of each other. Competitiveness on a whole new level, and you would almost laugh about it if it weren't so in character for you.

Dieter lets go of your hand, clapping finally when you don't seem to want to let go. Unable to take the moist buildup on his palm from the warm California night. He slaps his hands together a few times before he discreetly slides his hands, both of them, along his thighs to dry them.

It's a careless gesture - wiping away any moment of actual companionship between you the same way he disregards something disgusting on his hands. Of course, in this instance, you are the disgusting thing on his hand, and it's possible you've never been more frustrated for going out on a limb before.

Looking over at you before the next song, he sees that your jaw is hinged in that angry set. Making him snort that you can't even come to an exclusive event without finding something to be unhappy about. "Fucking fantastic." He grumbles under his breath and turns back to the woman on stage.

“Did you say something?” Your tone is more accusatory than you mean it to be, but he gets on your nerves so fucking easily that you can’t help it. Your own hands are back in your lap, wishing you had pockets in this godforsaken dress that you could shove them into to keep away from him.

“Nope.” He pops the end of the word and gives a small shake of his head. The last thing he wants is another incident and he promised he would be on his best behavior.

“Awesome.” All you can do is shake your head, refocusing on the concert. Nora and Steph will want to hear every detail later and you’re not about to let them down.

Dieter feels the cameras on him. He knows that despite the fact that this Adele’s concert, the story of him and you will be hot, and they won’t resist giving the two of you air time. He bites his lip and gives a quiet sigh, slipping his arm around your waist and leaning into your ear. “Try not to ruin this for us please?” He murmurs quietly. “You can hate me when the cameras stop rolling.”

There is a contract. And there are consequences. And as much as you do hate it, you agreed to this. So instead of griping or grousing, you take a deep breath and turn on a coy smile - aimed at him with batting eyelashes and a fully dreamy look in your eyes. If the cameras get a close up of you, you’ll look nothing less than smitten. “How’s this?” You mumble through the smile, looking right into his eyes. It might be the first time you’ve ever done that. They’re…actually kind of pretty. Nope. Not going there.

Dieter short circuits for a moment, falling into your adoring expression and soft eyes. For a split second he believes that you don’t hate him. His breath catches and he licks his lips self-consciously. “I— perfect.” He murmurs breathlessly and then blinks, remembering who you are and what you think about him. “Oscar worthy.” He hums with a tight smile.

“Good.” For second there’s softness in him, and honesty, and while the bitter part of you counts it as a victory because he’s clearly underestimated you, Steph’s voice in the back of your mind wonders loudly if that how he might look at you - and you at him - if this had all gone very differently. Too bad you’ll never know. “Good,” you repeat at a whisper. “We don’t want Libby pissed at us again.”

“Right.” At the end of the day, that’s all this is to you. A contract. You had never wanted to get to know him and he wishes he hadn’t met you. After this is over and his reputation is back on track, he’ll forget your name. Frowning slightly at that thought, he smothers it with a look that would tell anyone watching that Dieter Bravo was wrapped around someone he cared for very much.

It’s artificial, and it’s false, and it’s all the things you hate about Hollywood - but the concert is nice. By the time it’s over you’ve shifted, tilting so your head is nearly on his shoulder and the unfortunate fact that you actually like his cologne has been discovered. There isn’t any other commitment tonight because of how dinner went earlier in the week, and soon enough you’ll be on your way home again. Soon. Hopefully. But for the small trickle of his friends that have paused to say hello and goodbye on their way out of the venue.

“Oh shit.” Dieter hands had captured yours again and he gives it a warning squeeze, never sure what is going to come out of the mouth of the woman walking up to you. Outrageous as it might seem, she manages to make Dieter look tame with her judgmental attitude and bad press lately.

“Dieter!” Carol Cobb is the sort of person to pretend to be someone’s friend when it’s convenient to her, and right now her former costar is getting some interesting press. “So, this is her, huh? Your long-searched for soulmate?”

He can only hope that you don’t say anything that will have Carol racing off to the gossip columns. As much as she loved pretending she was some beacon of virtue, she was a snake in the grass. “This is her.” He tells her brightly, bringing your joined hands up and showing them off.

“You must be so thrilled...” Carol comments, putting out her hand for a flimsy shake and waiting for your introduction.

You supply your first name, barely taking her hand for a second with your free one. “It’s nice to meet you…” You use the same pregnant pause she did to let her introduce herself. She seems like the kind of person who would hate not being recognized.

“Carol.” She says, in the most aghast voice she can possibly summon. “Carol Cobb? I was in a movie with Dieter? Two if you count that horrible documentary?”

“Oh!” You nod and laugh with genuine amusement. “Right. Sorry. I don't think I remember you.”

“Horrible, yeah.” Dieter murmurs, not really wanting to point out that it was literally just a behind the scenes look. An honest one. “So, Carol, what have you been up to?” If there’s anything he can count on, is that she will want to talk about herself.

“You don't…?” She looks completely stricken by that but is placated by being asked any kind of personal question. “Starting in on a new project soon.” She lights up to bubbling. “A really beautiful drama. Yeah. Filming in Norway. The sun won’t set on us again until the end of August. Just beautiful.” She looks between you and Dieter with interest. “Do you have a project coming up? I heard things were a little slow for you still.”

Dieter hum, titling his head. “I’ve got a few things coming up. Filming in Switzerland.” He tells her, smiling slightly. “Plus of course the Mate Marks endorsement is in full swing.”

“Right.” She wrinkles her nose at you condescendingly. With an air of mother knows best that you’ve seen from senior teachers and students’ parents a million times. “You know, you and I should have a chat sometime. Soulmate or otherwise, you should really know what you’re…ya know… getting yourself into here.” Her eyes drift over to Dieter without subtlety. “You deserve to know what you’re getting yourself into, sweetie.”

“Oh, Dee’s told me everything.” You lie smoothly, giving his hand a squeeze and tossing him another adoring smile. “He took a little extra break from things so we could get to know each other, and his past is his past.” You can feel your skin crawl with the lie - you know practically nothing about him - but this woman is so self-righteous that it flips you completely in the other direction. You would pretend for almost anyone to get this kind of woman off their back.

His brows shoot up in surprise, but he covers it quickly. “She’s seen the documentary.” He loves pointing out how bad that particular piece also made Carol look. “What else could she possibly need to know?” He jokes, chuckling quietly.

"He spent the entire production trying to get somebody - anybody - to sleep with him." Carol tells you, as if it were some kind of secret and not right there in the documentary for everyone to see. "He tried to get us all to do drugs with him!" She knows very well that she did all that coke of her own free will, but it is not the first time she's used a scapegoat and it will not be the last.

"Well," you shrug, pretending it doesn't mean a thing to you at all. "He's been clean since before we met and I'm really proud of him for that. Addiction is a really serious thing that too many people trivialize."

Dieter huffs, pursing his lips at Carol. “Didn’t you sleep with a married man?” He asks flippantly, pretending to think about it. “‘Cause I swear you did. See, me? Well, I was single, I could fuck whoever I wanted to. But I seem to remember you had a boyfriend living in your house when you got to the set.” He won’t deny the drugs. Fuck, he’d snort some coke right now if he had some. But the condescension in her tone irks him. Reminds him of you.

"I was victimized!" She insists, lowering her voice when the conversation clearly doesn't take the turn she wants. Carol throws you a near-glare, crossing her arms over her chest and frowning heavily. "Good luck with him," she tells you, as though she has some stake in it. "You're going to need it."

“Hey!” Dieter grins, his face lighting up. “Maybe we could have a threesome?” He suggests, smirking as he looks over at you and squeezes your hand harshly. “Since I love them, right? It’d be great.” He chuckles and looks at Carol. “Did you know my tattoo was because I love threesomes?” It’s mean, probably, to throw this in your face, but you act just like this bitch and he’s too fucking sober to handle it maturely.

For as hard as you've worked tonight to be nice and play nice and not let him get to you, this is just a slap in the face. It's rude to the point of stealing your fake sunny smile, making you frown immediately and turn in on yourself. "It was nice to meet you, Carol." You tell her flatly, a lie of manners that you don't care about because nothing is actually nice right now. Letting go of Dieter's hand long enough to stand and grab your purse, you barely glance at him as Carol Cobb walks away bewildered. "Do you want to walk me to the car for the sake of appearances, or do you want that to be the last thing you say to me tonight?"

Regret, remorse, whatever you want to call it - isn’t something that he feels very often. Dieter prides himself on living authentically and saying what he means. But the way that your shoulders rounded and your face fell has him trying to swallow the bitterness his words left. “I’ll walk you.” He stands and when you stiffen when he puts his hand on your back, he doesn’t get irritated. He deserves that, instead he just sighs quietly and guides you towards the exit.

“I apologized.” You remind him under your breath, trying to get your composure back for anyone you might pass. “I said I was sorry and I meant it.”

“When?” Dieter looks around like you are talking to someone else. “Because you damn sure didn’t apologize to me. Unless you think tolerating my presence is an apology?” He mutters all of this under his breath to you as he keeps his face friendly. Not wanting another bad press moment as the two of you exit the stadium and quickly walk to the line of cars. “You might want to rethink our conversation tonight.” He opens the door to the SUV that is waiting for you and makes a show of kissing your hand for anyone who might be watching.

“The car. When you came to the house with the car, I said I was sorry.” With a flutter of your eyelashes, you slide backward into the car and turn away from him. “Good night.” You add firmly, when he doesn’t shut the door right away. A voice in the back of your head - Steph’s again, annoyingly - asks if you really apologized or if you just said the words and figured the rest would be inferred. You can’t remember, but it hardly matters now. Whatever you enjoyed about tonight has been ruined, so none of it matters.

“Yeah. That’s right.” Dieter gives an ugly chuckle. “Your excuse was you didn’t know I had a sister.” Instead of telling you how much bullshit that was, he just closes the door. You won’t even look at him anyway. Too much of a bitch to see how badly you hurt him. One shitty little apology was supposed to make it all better. He can’t fucking wait for the next four dates to be over with.

______

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My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Dieter Bravo #Dieter Bravo x reader #Dieter Bravo x you #Dieter Bravo x female reader #The Bubble #Soulmate AU #enemies to lovers #fake dating #Trash Can Man

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