#pedro pascal smut | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

heartlessvirgo · 2 days ago

Text

Pins and Needles

Summary:

You work at the bar in Jackson, and Joel is a frequent visitor.

Paring: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+MDNI, Swearing, Kissing, heavy petting, unprotected sex, yearning, uhh I think that's it keepin it simple tonight

Word Count: 6.1K

A/N: hi there, I wrote this one today, so enjoy. Also idk what else to write about so please someone for the love of God send me a prompt. I am just a woman, who needs help and who has also never had an original thought in her life! -mel

The bar, The Tipsy Bison, loomed ahead, its sign barely visible through the swirling snow. You curse under your breath, pulling your coat tighter around you, but it does little to ward off the biting cold of the morning. December had arrived with a vengeance, and the snow storm showed no signs of letting up. But people still drank, even in weather like this. In fact, you found the bar was busier on days like this.

Your fingers fumble with the key as you reach the double doors, the cold seeping through your skin to your bones. The sensation creeps through your hands, pins and needles prickling as numbness begins to set in. You rub your hands together, hoping to summon some warmth, but the unforgiving wind steals what little comfort you can muster.

With a final twist, the frozen lock gives, and you push open the doors to bar, the familiar scent of wood and stale beer greeting you like an old friend. Inside, it’s quiet, the soft hum of the heater the only sound as the door clicks shut behind you, sealing out the storm.

Your boots trail in some snow, leaving a damp path across the worn wooden floor. If you could feel your toes, you'd manage to stomp off some of it, but the numbness has already claimed them. Flicking on the lights, a groan escapes your throat as one of the overhead bulbs flickers, sputtering briefly before giving out entirely, casting a shadow over the far end of the bar.

"Great," you mutter, shrugging off your coat and tossing it onto a nearby stool. The dim corner adds another task to your growing list for the day. You make your way behind the counter, fingers still tingling from the cold as you rub them together again, hoping the warmth will return soon.

As the heater hums to life, a soft warmth begins to creep into the space, thawing the icy pins and needles that had gripped you outside. But the flickering bulb lingers in the back of your mind, a small reminder that nothing ever stays entirely comfortable for long.

The list is long before opening today, and you realize it’s just you and the cook all day. Mornings at The Tipsy Bison were never particularly busy—just a slow trickle of night shift workers, looking to unwind at the end of their day. The nights were hecti, and despite the cold outside, you often found yourself sweating by the time you got through the rush. You move around the bar, checking off tasks one by one. Stock the shelves. Fill the ice bin. The steady rhythm of your routine is oddly comforting, like a quiet meditation. It’s midafternoon, and you’re just finishing up a rush of orders—mostly bar food, meant to fill the empty spaces in their stomachs before they start drinking their rations away.

As you wipe down the bar, the sound of the door creaking open catches your attention. The heavy thud of boots stomping snow off their soles echoes through the space, a quiet gesture of courtesy against the cold. You glance over your shoulder, offering a small, automatic smile as you continue drying a few cups.

It’s Joel Miller that steps in, his presence immediately filling the room in that quiet, commanding way he always had. One of the few night workers you recognized, that usually came in at the tail end of his shifts on watch. His face, as always, was a mix of exhaustion and something that looked too much like annoyance. Or maybe that was just how he looked at you now—ever since that night.

You knew him well. He was curt, sometimes even polite, but always quick with the transaction, his focus more on the drink than anything else. So, you let him have his whiskey, and leave him to drown whatever sorrow clung to him after the long nights on watch.

He was tall when he wanted to be, but the years of bad posture and sleeping on hard ground had left him with shoulders that sagged just slightly. Even so, you could always tell how strong he was—how well he carried it without needing to show it off. You knew.

You knew all too well.

Joel wasn’t the kind of man who hooked up anymore. Not the type to lose control or give in to temptation. But one night, it happened. Maybe it was the way you poured his drinks heavy that night. And the shots you shared with a few regulars, the way the whiskey loosened your limbs and warmed your skin. By the time your shift ended, you could no longer feel the cold in your bones, your thoughts hazy and distant as the night stretched long and dark between you.

He’d been waiting, just outside the bar, as you took the trash out while locking up. You hummed a mindless tune, one your coworker would probably replay on the jukebox for hours if you let him.

After the amount of alcohol you’d consumed, it didn’t surprise you to see him standing there. What you couldn’t quite recall was the reason—whether it was the free drink you’d slipped him earlier or the way you’d found yourself watching him from across the room, tracing his features with your eyes, practically undressing him with every glance.

Without a word, he walked you home, a perfect gentleman, like he wasn’t expecting anything in return. And yet, somehow, you’d found yourself dragging him inside, consensually of course, your hands on him before the door even had a chance to shut behind you. It was messy and reckless, but it felt too good to stop.

The heat of his body against yours, the hard muscle that never seemed to fade despite the years and long hours he worked—it was all there, strong and solid. But there was softness, too, and it was so syrupy sweet. His stomach, warm and firm, the delicate skin of his neck, where your fingers lingered, feeling the pulse of his heartbeat beneath the surface.

Joel had you fucked into the mattress, your ass up, face buried against the sheets to stifle the sounds that slipped out despite you. It was quick—too quick—but the intensity left a mark, something you couldn’t shake, no matter how much time passed. The heat of him lingered on your skin, his release on your lower back. It was, without question, the most unforgettable moment of your life. But it was also the last. He didn’t return.

Joel never really understood why he had let it happen, why he gave in to the pull between you. Maybe it was the need to feel alive again, the kind of vitality the world had taken from him long ago. Or maybe it was because you were so impossibly sweet, and he knew exactly how easy it would be to ruin that innocence, to watch the halo above your head fall apart.

That’s why he switched to overnight shifts—so when he came into the bar, you’d be deep in your sleep, tucked away in the comfort of your bed. The same bed he’d been in, your thighs pressed against his face as he’d lost himself in the taste of you.

So, you can imagine his surprise when you greet him this morning. Your eyes wide, your smile sugary sweet, a flicker of something else—something almost familiar—lingering as you watch him settle into his usual spot.

“Morning,” you greet, your voice warm despite the chill still clinging to your skin from the blizzard outside. Every time the doors open, a freezing breeze floats through the drafty building, but Joel’s gaze stays steady on you, stony, calculating, but also… a little guarded, like he knows better than to linger on you for too long.

He gives a curt nod, his usual, as he settles into his spot at the bar. You pour his whiskey, straight, and slide it over to him. His fingers wrap around the glass, but he doesn’t drink right away. His gaze flicks to you as you move back to your tasks, a habit you’ve noticed but never addressed. Much like the way you’ve both avoided addressing that one time when the line between familiarity and something more blurred.

After a moment, he breaks the silence. “Everything holdin’ up alright in here?”

“Mostly,” you reply casually, glancing toward the flickering light. “Haven’t had the chance to fix that yet.”

Joel follows your gaze, then looks back at you. “Need a hand?”

You hesitate, not because you don’t need the help, but because it’s Joel offering. He’s not exactly known for small talk, let alone unsolicited offers of assistance. And especially not with you, not after you both silently agreed to act like that night never happened.

“‘M good, thanks,” you reply, already on the task of grabbing the ladder from the backroom.

The task is simple, but of course, it’s right in front of Joel. Your heart races as you set up the ladder beneath the overhead light, the realization of how close you are to him making everything feel suddenly too intimate.

Climbing the ladder, you reach for the bulb, your arms stretching high. The fabric of your crop top shifts upward, exposing a sliver of your skin. It’s only a brief moment, but it’s enough. You don’t need to look down to know that Joel is watching you, his gaze heavy and fixed. The air in the bar thickens, charged with something electric and raw.

You try to focus on the task—unscrewing the old bulb—but his eyes are like a magnet, pulling your attention, dragging your mind away from the simple fix. You glance down, just for a split second, and you catch his gaze. There’s no mistaking it: he nurses his whiskey as he drags his eyes up from your exposed skin and to your face. His eyes are locked on you, intense and unreadable. It feels like too much, like where you stand becomes unbalanced.

A sudden noise breaks the tension, and just as the door to the bar swings open with the sound of the wind, you release a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Your fingers shake, and before you can regain control, the bulb slips from your hand and falls—clink—shattering on the floor below.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath, stepping down from the ladder. You can feel the heat still lingering in the air where his gaze had been, but it’s gone now, replaced by an uncomfortable emptiness. With a sigh, you add sweeping up the shattered bulb to your growing list of tasks.

By the time you return with the broom, though, Joel’s already gone, and with him, the tension that had hung between you like a thick fog. The silence left in his wake feels different—quieter, colder somehow. You remind yourself to shake it off. You don’t have the luxury of getting lost in thoughts about him—not when you’ve still got hours to go before you can close this place down and collapse into bed.

By the time the end of your double rolls around, your body aches, longing for a seat, or hell, even just a place to lie down. The weight of the day has settled into your muscles, a dull throb that makes every movement feel like an effort. The bar has emptied out, the late-night crowd now a memory, and you’re left to lock up, your feet dragging as you complete the last few tasks.

You double-check everything—lights off, doors locked—and step out into the cold night. The gusts of wind hit you with a sharp sting, but it’s a welcome jolt, the sudden rush of cold almost comforting after hours spent in the warmth of the bar. You tug your coat tighter, but the chill creeps in anyway, the familiar pins and needles sensation creeping up your fingers again, your skin still feeling like it’s buzzing from the long shift.

Rubbing your hands together, you start shuffling down the path to your home, your thoughts half on the walk home, half still up in the clouds. Your breath puffs out in little clouds, and as you turn the corner to your front porch, you stop short.

There, standing in the dark, is Joel. His figure looms against the porch light you forgot to turn on, barely visible except for the faint outline of his broad shoulders and the glint of his eyes in the moonlight.

The sight of him makes your heart skip—unexpected, unnerving.

“Joel?” Your voice comes out a little softer than you intend, as if the cold air has stolen the strength from your words.

He doesn’t say anything right away, just stands there, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his worn jacket. A moment stretches between you, the cold air settling in the silence, the weight of the unspoken history between you hanging thick in the air. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he steps forward.

“Wanted to make sure ya got home okay,” he mutters, his voice rough, like it hasn’t been used much today. For a moment, you're speechless, caught off guard by his presence on your porch. The unexpectedness of it twists something inside you, leaving you momentarily breathless.

But it’s the way his eyes flicker over you—soft, dark, searching—that sends a shiver through you. You swallow hard, your pulse quickening again.

He looks... lost. Like a stray dog on your doorstep, seeking refuge from the cold. How could you possibly turn him away? Not with those eyes, the ones that speak of something unspoken, and not after he’s waited out in the freezing cold just to make sure you were safe.

A tightness grips your chest, the question lingering in the air between you. Is that really why he’s here? To check on you, or is there something more—something fleeting, like the brief comfort of your touch, your body? You can’t blame him for it, not when you ache for him just as badly as he seems to ache for you.

You step onto the porch, fumbling for your key. After a moment of searching, you unlock the door and push it open, the soft creak of the hinges breaking the silence. Shifting your weight, you glance over at him, tilting your head. “Do you want to come inside?” The question feels tentative, lingering between you.

Joel pulls his hands from his pockets, his gaze flickering to yours as if he’s weighing your words. His mouth parts slightly, a quiet surprise crossing his face—like he hadn’t expected you to ask, or perhaps hadn’t expected it to be this simple. He nods, the wood creaking beneath his boots as he follows you inside.

You hear the door close softly behind him as you hang your coat over the back of the couch. Your hands move almost automatically, searching through the small kitchen for two glasses. You pour a generous two fingers of whiskey into each, the amber liquid catching the dim light.

Joel's footsteps approach the kitchen, the sound of his boots soft against the floor. Without looking up, you cork the bottle and extend one of the glasses toward him, the subtle tension in the air thickening with every movement.

“Thanks.” He takes the glass from you, and you bring yours to your lips. You’re not in the mood for savoring the fine whiskey tonight. Without hesitation, you tip the glass back, letting the burn of the liquid scorch its way down your throat in a few quick gulps.

The wind howls outside, rattling the windows as the blizzard continues its assault on Jackson. You pour another glass of whiskey, the burn lingering, comforting in its simplicity.

Joel shifts where he stands in the middle of your kitchen, his gaze flicking to the window, then back to you. “Cold out there,” he mutters, his voice low, rough, like gravel.

You nod, half-smiling as the whiskey takes its effects. “Yeah, that storm came out of nowhere.” You don’t look at him directly, but you feel his eyes on you. You wish it didn’t feel so damn heavy.

“Always damn cold this time a year,” Joel murmurs.

Joel couldn’t stand being in the same room as you—not now, not when you were so close, just a few feet between you. But at the same time, being near you felt like a breath of fresh air, like a cure he hadn’t known he needed. No amount of whiskey could drown out the chaos in his mind, but somehow, when you were around, you quieted it. Just your presence, like a calm that washed over everything else.

And that’s how he found himself here tonight, standing on your porch, waiting for you to open the door. Waiting for you to let him in—waiting for something to hold on to that might feel real. He didn’t care if it was a lie, didn’t care about the tangled mess of it all. All he knew was that you felt real. The warmth of your body, the scent of your skin, the way you had felt under him, the vague memory of you clenching around him so tight he could barely fuck into you.

He just didn’t expect you to actually invite him in. Hadn’t planned this far ahead.

You watch the flicker of inner turmoil that crosses Joel’s face, the subtle tension in the way his eyes drift, lost in thought. His hand moves absently, scrubbing through the salt-and-pepper stubble on his chin. He finishes his whiskey in one slow, deliberate motion, the glass emptying with a quiet finality.

"Answer me this one thing," Joel says, his voice heavy with confusion.

"Shoot," you reply, not hesitating for a second.

His eyes lock with yours, a flicker of vulnerability passing through them. “Why? I don’t get it.” His voice is low, heavy with self-doubt. “Why would you want anything to do with someone like me? I’m too damn old, barely able to keep up most of the time. Hell, I couldn’t even keep up with you. Couldn’t even last long—” He falters, the words choking him for a moment. His gaze drops, embarrassed. “And I lie awake at night, wondering why you'd ever even think about being with someone like me.”

Joel sets his glass down on the kitchen table with a soft thud, his lips pressed into a thin line. The question lingers in the air, but the way he does it—like he’s already decided—tells you he’s done with it.

“Why not?” you shrug, the burn of the alcohol settling in your stomach, a sharp reminder that you’ve had nothing to eat.

His eyes narrow, and for a moment, the silence deepens. “Why not?” he repeats, his voice low, almost like he’s challenging you to give a real answer.

“Joel,” you start, swallowing the words that have been sitting on your tongue for what feels like forever. “I’m old enough to know that I wanted you to fuck me. I enjoyed it.”

His gaze hardens, a flicker of something in his eyes that you can’t quite place. It’s not surprise. Maybe it’s something darker.

“There are men, more age-appropriate,” he says, his voice edged with something almost bitter, “haven’t you seen the way they gawk at you?” His jaw tightens, and for a split second, you wonder if he’s been holding this back.

“If you mean the guys at the bar,” you cut in, meeting his gaze head-on, “they can gawk all they want. Doesn’t mean I care about any of them. What do you think this is, Joel?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, a woman like you could do better,” he mutters, his voice gravelly. “You don’t owe me anythin’, but... why me?”

You swallow, a mix of frustration and understanding swirling in your chest. It’s not insecurity you see in him, but utter confusion. The question hangs between you, and there’s no easy answer, only the weight of everything unsaid.

“I don’t really give a fuck about what’s ‘appropriate’,” your tone is sharper than you mean it to be, the edges of your words fraying. “So, why not you?” The question lingers, heavy in the air, as a knot forms in your stomach—hot and molten, a slow burn that spreads lower, igniting something between your legs.

“I—” Joel starts, but you cut him off, your words sharp and unwavering.

“No more questions,” you say, your voice low, steady, leaving no room for doubt. “I know what I want. And right now, I want you to fuck me again.”

You close the space between you, the soft thud of him bumping into the table echoing in the stillness as you press flush against him. Your gaze locks onto his, daring, almost pleading, though your tone leaves little room for negotiation.

“Don’t make me beg,” you murmur, the heat between you palpable, every word laced with intention.

“Fuck, you’re desperate for it, aren’t ya?” Joel’s voice is rough, strained. You let out a needy whine in response, feeling his strong hands grip your hips, gently guiding you back until your back hits the counter. With ease, Joel lifts you and places you on the counter. His gaze locks onto yours, intense and unwavering, as you grind against the rough denim of his jeans. Your palms slide up the solid plane of his chest, fingertips gripping the fabric before reaching the sides of his neck, pulling him closer. Needing him closer.

"Please," you whisper, your voice trembling as you tighten your legs around his waist, offering yourself completely. His breath comes out in slow, heavy bursts, like he's stalling—grasping for any reason not to give in.

“Don’t know how long I’ll last,” he mumbles, his breath hitching, the subtle tremor in his voice betraying the tension building between you.

“Don’t care.” Your fingers slip beneath the hem of his shirt, your touch deliberate as your skin meets the heat of his stomach, the warmth searing straight through you. It feels like fire, like the space between you is alive with every brush of your hands.

“You’re the first person I’ve been with in a while,” he adds, his voice rough, as if the admission is supposed to change the moment. As if it might make you hesitate.

“Good.” The word leaves your mouth low and thick, the weight of it heavier than expected. The possessiveness that rises within you is sharp, stirring something deep inside that only makes you want him more. Every inch of him feels like something you’re not sure you’re willing to share, and the feeling claws at your chest.

His breath hitches again, louder this time, as you slide your hand further up his torso, feeling the firm muscles beneath his shirt. The steady beat of his heart thrums through the contact, syncing with your own pulse.

“You sure about this?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, but there’s no mistaking the raw edge to it. His fingers curl into your wrist, not to stop you, but as if he’s waiting for your permission, your assurance.

“Never been more sure.” The words come out like a challenge, something to push him further, a quiet claim you didn’t even realize you wanted to make.

“Okay, well, I-”

“Please, just fuck me,” you plead, the desperation in your voice raw and unfamiliar. You’ve never wanted someone this badly before—you’d drop to your knees and beg if it would make him touch you.

Joel’s thumb brushes over your bottom lip, and you can’t help but lean into his touch, craving more. The world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you suspended in this moment. He inches closer, and you feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek, stirring up the anticipation coiling in your stomach.

"Tell me you want this," he murmurs, his voice dropping to a husky whisper that sends another shiver down your spine. You swallow hard, torn between desire and making sure he had his questions answered. But the way he’s looking at you, the way his body presses against yours—it’s all too much.

"I want this, want you." You finally breathe out, each word a confession.

Before you can even think, his hand rises to the back of your neck, his grip firm but not painful, and a rush of heat floods through you. Without warning, his lips crash against yours—there’s nothing soft or calculated about it. It’s raw, urgent, and makes your breath catch in your throat. The kiss is a little too fast, too overwhelming, and you fumble. Your teeth bump together, and you let out a breathless gasp, desperate to find some rhythm.

You’re flustered, completely out of control, but your hands find their way to his chest, your fingers curling into his shirt, clinging to him like a lifeline. The world around you blurs, every nerve in your body igniting from the warm cavern of his mouth. It’s messy, hungry, like you both can’t get enough.

You want more.

His mouth moves against yours, slow at first. You try to keep up, but your head spins, your body already begging for more. Just when you think you can’t handle it, that the intensity might break you, he deepens the kiss. His lips press into yours with a slow, deliberate pressure that sends a wave of heat crashing through you, pooling low in your stomach.

You melt into him, your chest tight, heart pounding, every inch of you craving more, wanting to feel everything—feel him, feel this—without holding back. It’s not enough. You need more, but you’re not sure if you can even breathe, let alone stop yourself from pulling him closer.

The kiss deepens, hungry and desperate, as his hands slide down to your hips, gripping you like he can’t let go. Before you can fully process it, he’s lifting you effortlessly from the counter, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he holds you against him. Your heart hammers in your chest, your body igniting from the sudden proximity. The sensation of him between your thighs, the heat of his body pressed so close, makes everything feel electric.

He moves with purpose, never breaking the kiss as he navigates toward the bedroom in the dark. The sound of his boots scuffing against the floor is steady, like a heartbeat, like a countdown. Your mind races, trying to catch up with what’s happening, but all you can focus on is the way his mouth tastes, the roughness of his hands on your skin, the feel of your pulse under his touch.

He pushes the bedroom door open with his foot, barely slowing as he crosses the threshold. The next thing you know, he’s gently laying you back on the bed, his hands smoothing over your body, the heat of his touch leaving a trail of fire everywhere he goes. Your legs stay draped around his waist, your breath shallow, every part of you desperate for him to close the distance again.

Without stopping, Joel slots himself between your legs, his hips pressing against yours with a satisfying pressure. The warmth of his body sinks into you as if you’re both melting into the same rhythm. Each movement, each breath, feels heavier, like you’re chasing something you’ve both wanted but didn’t know how to ask for.

Your palms cup Joel’s scratchy jaw, pulling him up to meet your rushed, top-lip kiss. His breath is warm, his lips so soft against yours, and the taste of him—so familiar now. You’ve wanted this for so long that your chest aches from the weight of it.

“Can’t believe I never tasted ya like this,” Joel pulls away to say thickly, his voice low and rasping, like he’s just come up for air after drowning in the moment. “Gonna be the death of me,” with a soft shake of his head, he nudges his nose against yours, kissing your lips again slowly.

Joel pulls away one last time, his breath warm against your skin as he rises to kneel on the bed. He smirks as he pulls his shirt over his head, and the sight of him—bare, broad, and breathless—makes something inside you tighten. He looks like he’s only thinking of you, like he’s burning with the need to claim you.

You’re captivated, watching intently as he moves to unfasten his jeans, revealing a trail of dark hair that disappears beneath the waistband of his underwear. With a grunt, Joel pushes his jeans down to his thighs, his cock springing free.

“So hard for me,” you say, amazed. Your pulse quickens, and you shift beneath his gaze, your fingers trembling as they slip beneath the fabric of your jeans and panties. The rough material clings to your hips for a fleeting moment before you tug them down, the cool air teasing your bare skin. You move with urgency as you pull your shirt over your head, driven by an insatiable need to connect, to lose yourself in the heat of the moment. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you glance up at him.

You look flushed against your sheets, and he hasn’t even touched you fully.

“Tell me what ya want, I’ll give ya anything,” Joel finishes removing his jeans and crawls over you on the bed. He trails open mouthed kisses up your sensitive stomach, capturing the peak of your breast into his mouth.

For a second, you want him to flip you over, to take you like he did before—rough, demanding, with your knees digging into the mattress. But this time, you want to stay on your back, to catch his soft yet heated gaze.

“Make me feel good again,” you whisper, voice trembling. The cool air makes you aware of the slick heat dripping down your pussy and pooling against the sheets. One of his hands settles on your naked hip, the other fisting himself before rubbing the head against your lips. Your hands find themselves on the soft flesh of his chest and stomach, feeling his muscles tremble over you.

"This all it takes? A lil kissin’, and you're this soaked?" His voice drops, rough with desire, as he watches, mesmerized, the way you suck him in, the words rough with desire.

“Such a pretty girl, with such a pretty pussy—never seen one so pretty,” he adds, and you can’t help but blush all over under his compliment.

His forearm rests against the pillow beside your head, the other hand slipping between you as his cock teases your entrance. Just before he pushes in, he pauses, brushing your hair out of your eyes with a tenderness that makes your chest ache. His eyes meet yours for a beat longer than they should before he thrusts his hips, and his mouth parts like he can’t help it.

You’re soaked, but he still stretches you, inch by inch, filling you completely. Every movement is deliberate, the pull of him tight inside you, and you can’t help but cling to the feeling of him—of all of him.

A whimper escapes your lips, the sound making Joel shudder above you.

“Ya feel so good,” he whispers, pulling out and slowly pushing back in. It’s like torture, like he’s trying to kill you. His hand comes up and grabs the back of your neck. “So hot, so wet.” he adds in your ear.

“Please, Joel. Faster,” you whisper, the words trembling with need. He doesn’t hesitate—immediately, he gives it to you like you asked, filling you completely. Every inch of him stretches you, makes it hard to breathe, your body aching as it fits to his. You can’t look away from him—the way his brows furrow, his jaw tight, and that frown of his fading as his eyes close, a quiet desperation painting his face. He looks undone, and it only drives you deeper.

The fullness of him fills the hollow inside you, the ache fading like it never existed, as if he’s the missing part you never knew you were craving—slipping into every space you didn’t even know was empty.

“You’re takin’ me so damn good,” Joel murmurs, his hand moving from your neck, his thumb tracing your cheek with surprising tenderness.

His silence envelops you both, thick and suffocating, as you give in to the raw, primal sounds that fill the air—the slick rhythm of your bodies moving together, the broken whimpers and low grunts that echo between you. Nothing else matters, nothing else exists—just the heat, the movement, the noise. The obscene sound of skin against skin is almost unbearable, drowning out everything but the need.

“Joel, fuck,” Your legs shake, thighs quivering as he strikes a spot deep inside, making your vision blur and your breath falter. Your head tilts back, eyes rolling as waves of pleasure crash over you, each one stronger than the last, a force you can barely keep up with.

“So fuckin’ hot... Fuck, play with your clit.” Joel’s voice drops to a growl, dark and raw, his gaze following the rhythm between you both as he disappears inside you. His chest rises, flushed with heat, and then, with a sharp exhale, he shifts, kissing the side of your mouth—sloppy, desperate, like he can’t get enough of you.

“Want you to come for me... Think ya can do that?” His voice is rough, almost commanding, as he palms at your breast, pinching your nipple hard.

You’re dripping onto him, every inch of him slick as he thrusts into you, his rhythm erratic, relentless. When he accidently slips out, the emptiness is maddening—a sharp ache that leaves you gasping—until he grabs himself and presses back in, a low grunt escaping him, laced with pure hunger. The wet slide of him fills you again, messy and desperate, a connection so raw it makes everything else feel impossibly distant.

“Oh my god,” you moan, already burning with need. Your fingers work frantically over your clit, slick and swollen, desperate for release. A fire builds deep inside, spreading like wildfire, making your legs tremble uncontrollably around his hips. It feels overwhelming, too fast—like you might shatter if you don’t get what you need.

A tingling sensation creeps up the base of your neck, your body instinctively arching toward him. Every muscle tightens, caught between resistance and surrender, as his thursts deepen.

You come—hard—your body seizing, waves of ecstasy crashing over you with such force, you can barely draw in a breath. Your vision blurs, the only sound the frantic pounding of your heart, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer. Your walls tighten around him, pulling him deeper, as the orgasm tears through you, leaving you breathless, broken.

He groans, his grip tightening on your thighs as he fucks you through it, each thrust driving you further into the haze of pleasure, until you’re nothing but the lingering aftershocks of what he’s given you. You can barely hold on, but you don’t want him to stop.

Joel shudders, pushing deeper, the sensation sharp and all-consuming, as a dull ache spreads through you, an ache that feels like everything.

“Good girl, fuck…” Joel’s voice cracks, strained with urgency as you tighten around him, making it almost impossible for him to move. He pulls out with a sharp breath, stroking himself before spilling hot ropes of release onto your stomach, the frantic spurts reaching your breasts. His orgasm draws out, the harsh sound of his groan echoing in the quiet room, and the sound alone sends you trembling, your body arching against the bed.

“Think you’re tryin’ to kill me,” Joel murmurs, his voice low and rough, the look in his eyes still wild as he shifts to rest beside you.

You meet his gaze, a playful spark in your eyes. “Guess I’ll have to try harder next time,” you tease, your voice light, but the smell of sex still lingers in the air between you.

Joel’s lips twitch, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth, but his eyes stay intense, as if he’s still trying to catch his breath. “Don’t think you need to,” he mutters, but there’s something unreadable in his expression—like he's both caught off guard and addicted to the way you’ve made him feel.

Good, you think smugly.

The moment hangs there, suspended between you, before he shakes his head, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. You stay where you are, your pulse still racing, a quiet smile tugging at your lips as you watch his back.

#joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #tumblr fyp #papi pedro #pedro x reader #pedropascal #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel the last of us #pedro pascal characters #zaddy pedro #pedrohub #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller x you

238 notes · View notes

lotusbxtch · 1 day ago

Text

Shelly, that seems like a normal reaction to that menace of a man 🤭❤️ thanks for reading!

A New Year's Distraction

Pairing: Javier Peña + f!Reader Word Count: 3.3k Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI Summary: Javi doesn't realize that you've got a surprise waiting for him at home.

Tags/warnings: PWP let’s be real lol, secret established relationship, foul language, (1) suggestive note, mentions of food and alcohol, foodplay, consumption of alcohol, mention of masturbation, brief masturbation, brief sex toy usage, spitting, squirting, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected PIV sex (wrap it up people), creampie, (1) pussy slap, Spanish nicknames and phrases, (1) use of the word 'slut' (but Reader is into it)

a/n: I saw these GIFs of Javi and @for-a-longlongtime convinced me to turn my little drabble thought into a fic. Is it after New Year’s Eve? Yes. Shhh. Pretend it’s not, for me. So here it is, unbeta’d and minimally edited. This is my first Javi P fic, so pls be gentle but also let me know how I did with writing him! Happy belated New Year to this little Tumblr community - I love you so much! (Banners by @saradika-graphics, GIF by @pedrohub)

MAIN MASTERLIST

In any other year, you’d have been out on the town, dancing with friends and drinking cocktails while men tried to woo you for a midnight kiss. You’d drink too much, wake up hungover, and potentially with a stranger in bed.

This year, however, New Year’s Eve in Colombia looked markedly different.

Since you’d started at the embassy at the beginning of the year, helping the US track and take down narcos, the work never stopped. (Drug trafficking, it seemed, did not take note of the holidays.) You’d thrown yourself into the work, desperate to prove that you belonged here - which was already an uphill battle given your gender. Women have to work twice as hard as men in general, but here? Even more so. The machismo patriarchy wanted Columbia to chew you up, spit you out, and send you packing. You wanted - needed - this job to work out, so letting the place eat you alive wasn’t an option.

On this New Year’s Eve, partying with friends was out of the question. Recent intelligence reports needed to be analyzed, and it fell onto you this time. You sigh, rubbing your temples as you continue to leaf through and take notes in the margins. The office was relatively quiet, a couple of your coworkers waving bye to you on their way out to the bars. You check the clock - 7pm - and stretch, deciding enough is enough.

Earlier in the week, you’d planned out a little surprise for Javier Peña – DEA agent extraordinaire and the man you’d been dating secretly for months – at his place for the evening, both of you preferring to stay in this year. Plus, there was really only one man you wanted to kiss at midnight. Smiling, you grab a manila folder. You tear a page out of your field notebook, scribble a note, then stick it into the folder. Getting up from your desk, you gather your things and walk across the building to the DEA office, a mischievous smile on your lips.

In a nearly-dark conference room, Javi stands hands akimbo, poring over the various maps, satellite images, and transcriptions of tapped conversations with other members of the team. They’d been trying to make a decision with the latest batch of intelligence gathering, but as per usual, egos began to butt heads and office politics started to come into play. He runs his hand through his dark curls, frustration etched into his features as he listens numbly to the arguing going on around him. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you round the corner, spotting him and smiling. You’re carrying your purse and a manila folder with what he’s assuming is more intelligence reports for him to look over. Javi struggles to school his features, tamping down the desire to smirk at your arrival. Steve, of course, notices his partner’s distraction, and puts two and two together when you knock on the conference room door.

“Agent Peña?” you chirp, popping your head into the room.

He nods at you, holding his hand out for the folder. You place it in his hand, all business. “Thanks. Are these the –” Before he can finish his sentence, you’ve already turned around, striding out the door and towards the exit. He’s a bit confused, staring at the folder in his hands.

Steve gives him a look, but continues discussing the current leads with the rest of the team. Javi places the folder to the side of the table, giving it little thought.

Two hours later, Javi is done.

The discussions had turned into arguments, and the conversation was going nowhere. An ashtray sits in the middle of the table, a smoldering cigarette in front of Javi. All he wants to do is to go home, take off his shoes and belt (god, how he hates wearing belts), loosen up his tie, and have a stiff drink.

Suddenly, he remembers your folder. Bored with the current conversation, he picks it up to skim the reports you gave him. However, the folder is far lighter than he’d expect for reports. Puzzled, he opens it to find a torn piece of lined notebook paper with a note scrawled in your handwriting.

Going to your place for New Year’s Eve. Steaks, champagne, and me naked in your bed. See you later xoxo

Javi’s brain feels like it stops working.

He reads the note another two, three times, and then bends over, resting his forearms on the edge of the table, staring blankly ahead as the blood rushes from his head to his groin. The chatter around him fades. Unconsciously, he brings his fist to his lips as flashes of lewd images flood his mind - how you look when you strip for him; you on your hands and knees with your ass in the air, your pussy shining with slick; you on your back, thighs spread wide around his torso, eyes closed and mouth open as you moan and clench his length inside of you.

Fuck it.

His eyes flit around the room, and he realizes he just does not care about any of this right now. Javi reaches for the stumpy cigarette, taking a single drag, then drops it unceremoniously back into the ashtray, grabbing his things and leaving the table without a word.

“Peña!” Steve calls after him. “What the fuck?” But Javi doesn’t hear him, because he’s already out the door, on his way to where the throbbing between his thighs is taking him – straight to you.

You’d (correctly) assumed that Javi would be stuck in that god-awful meeting for at least another hour and a half, so you’d allowed yourself a leisurely unwinding from the day. After grabbing the steaks and champagne stashed at your apartment, you let yourself into Javi’s place, overnight bag in tow. You��d lit some candles in the living room, pre-seasoned the steaks, and then popped the cork on one of the champagne bottles. Pouring yourself a glass, you took a long soak in his tub, luxuriating in waters dosed with bath oils your mother sent you as a Christmas present. Now, soft skin toweled dry and heavenly scented, you lay bare in Javi’s bed, just as you said you would.

Your vibrating wand hums as you tease your folds with your thighs spread, your other hand caressing the curves of your breasts. A soft moan leaves your mouth, lips parted. You smile and giggle to yourself at the thought of how worked up you likely got Javi from your little note. You knew the steaks and champagne weren’t a guarantee that he’d leave the office and come home, but you knew that the second you mentioned being naked in bed for him, he’d leap up and take off running like the Road Runner in Looney Toons.

The door slams open and closed, and your smile turns into a predatory smirk. Showtime.

You press the wand firmer to your clit, eliciting more moans, and Javi is drawn to the bedroom like a sailor to a siren’s song. You hear his shoes being toed off, then the swish of his jacket being thrown onto the couch. His briefcase and keys hit the countertop, and then his purposeful strides get louder as he stalks down the hall to you. His broad frame appears in the doorway, shoulders taut against his dove grey button-up, his striped tie loosened and his hands occupied with rolling up his sleeves. Despite the dark color of his slacks, you can see his cock already straining at the crotch. His eyes flash onyx in the dim lighting.

“Starting without me, muñequita?” he rumbles, folding his arms and leaning against the doorframe. You spread yourself wider and toss the wand to the side, letting him see your shining center, slick and ready for him.

“No, baby,” you hum, propping yourself onto your elbows and pushing your bare tits out. “Just keeping myself soaked for you, just like you like me. A good girl.”

Javi groans audibly at your display and words, an animal barely keeping it together. “What you are is a menace,” he growls, raking a hand through his hair. “Floating on by like a damn dream, waltzing out of the office without so much as a hint at the dirty fucking note you left me in that folder. I didn’t open it for two hours. And when I did, I got so hard I had to leave.”

“Then let me take care of my hard-working, handsome, brave DEA agent,” you purr. “The steaks are ready to cook, but knowing you, you want your dessert first.”

“Actually,” Javi smirks, “I’d really like some festive bubbles.” You go to reach for the second glass, yours having been refilled shortly before Javi came home, but he stops you.

“No, bebita. Lay back. I don’t need a glass for this.”

Javier grabs the champagne bottle, then slots himself over your body. You widen your legs to accommodate him, pressing your hips to meet his.

Bracketing your head with his forearms, he commands gently, “Open.”

You open your lips obediently. He takes a swig from the bottle, then spits the bubbly wine right into your mouth. Moaning, you swallow, wetness pooling between your thighs. His gaze never leaves yours.

“Dirty girl, you liked that,” Javi teases, his eyes glittering with mischief.

“Tastes better like that,” you husk, then pull him in for a deep kiss. His plush lips move against yours, tongues dancing, feeding off each other. His kisses intoxicate your mind.

Breaking the kiss, Javi continues to run his lips down your body, stopping briefly to suck each of your nipples into his mouth, making you shudder and gasp. He trails his tongue across your belly, gently biting your mound. Once there, he sits back on his haunches, then smiles wickedly.

“I know how to make it taste even better,” he teases. Slowly, he trickles the fizzy alcohol in a thin stream over your exposed center. A gasp is forced out of your throat, quickly turning into a moan when Javi laps it off your folds.

Another pour, more licking from him. Your moans turn into whines, the pleasure coursing through your veins.

“Fuck, Javi, that’s so hot,” you whimper. At your admission, he surges back to your face to kiss you passionately, your own tart sweetness and the headiness of the champagne swirling on your tongue from his. All too soon, he’s parting from your lips. You grumble, until he’s ducked back down between your thighs, your swollen clit gently secured between his lips before he starts to suck. His palm presses on your belly, right above your pubic bone.

“Oh god,” you whine, your release rising in your bones like the bubbles in the long-forgotten glass flute beside the bed. Javi moans into your pussy, slipping two of his fingers into your core.

“You sound so pretty, nenita,” he murmurs. “Are you gonna come on my face for me?”

“Yes, papí, fuck,” you moan, hips grinding against his talented mouth.

He curls his fingers upwards, stroking that spongy spot on your walls. “Dámelo,” your boyfriend commands, then sucks your clit hard.

You shatter for him with a stuttered scream, your release spurting on his chin and mouth. He holds down your hips as you ride out the waves of ecstasy.

“That’s my good fucking girl,” he growls. When you relax, Javi slips his fingers from you, sucking your juices off of them. Blissed out, you watch as he begins to strip off his clothes, his golden skin and taut muscles coming into view. Now completely bare, he climbs back over you, his face still glistening from the evidence of your orgasm. He spreads your thighs apart, grabbing his dick in his hand and slapping your drenched pussy with his mushroom tip. The sounds of your wetness are obscene.

Javi smirks like the devil himself. “Been dreaming about this sloppy little cunt all day,” he rumbles, rubbing your swollen clit teasingly with his cockhead. “Thinking about all the ways I wanted to ruin you. Not being able to touch you all day was torture.”

You snort a laugh breathily. “If only the cartels knew all it took to break you was to deny you of pussy for a few hours. You’d be singing government secrets.”

Javi’s eyes darken for a moment, and then he slaps your slick folds, making you cry out pain and then pleasure.

“Watch your fucking mouth, princesa,” he warns, “or I’ll fill it up so you can’t say shit to me.”

Your arousal flares. Javi knows just how rough you can take it from him.

“I’m sorry, papi,” you moan. “I promise I’ll be good for you.”

He smirks. “I know you will.” Without warning, he slides home, sheathing himself inside you with a single, devastating stroke. You both cry out brokenly at the intense sensations, his cock always a stretch for you. All you can see, feel, think about, is him.

Javi stays buried inside you, laying still while you adjust. Your velvet heat wraps around him wholly and overwhelms his senses. He has to take deep breaths to keep him from falling off the edge of his ecstasy.

“God, you take me so well,” he grits out. “Pussy feels like heaven.” You can only breathe a whine in response, soft lips popped open as you struggle to relax your walls around him. Usually he works you open slowly, but it seems like your bratty comment triggered the feral side in him.

“Oh, pobrecita,” Javi mocks, tutting as you squirm underneath him. “Did my cock already render you speechless?” When you let out another whimper, he smirks darkly. He grips your chin between his fingers firmly, bringing your focus to his devastatingly handsome face. “C‘mon, pretty baby. Use your words.”

Your lips close and throat bobs, attempting to obey. “You feel so big in me, papí,” you rasp out, voice fucked.

Javi chuckles. “Tight little pussy is grippin’ me so well, honey,” he teases, sending a pulse scuttling through your core. “Wanna stay buried inside you all the time.”

Soon, the sting of his cock melts into pleasure thrumming along your nerves. Your pussy weeps more slick. “Please, Javi,” you beg, feeling the arousal spread like fire through your veins. You desperately need him to move.

“When you beg so pretty, I guess I have to,” Javi smirks. He slowly pulls out, lighting up every nerve ending in your channel, then thrusts back into you quick and deep. A loud moan shakes loose from your lungs, and Javi grinds his molars when he feels you tighten around him in response. He continues this way, every devastating minute melting you further into the mattress. You scrabble your hands around his shoulders for purchase, arching your back into him when he hits that perfect spot deep inside you. Legs wrap around his waist, your cunt sucking him in as deeply as it can. Javi’s eyes scan your body, cataloguing every whimper, twitch, and breath to bring you to climax as fast as possible.

“Is this what you needed, bebita?” Javi asks. You clench around him and nod rapidly, breath coming in pants. “‘Cause it sure as hell is what I needed.”

He bares his teeth as he picks up his pace, stroking your messy pussy harder and deeper. “You’re so fucking wet for me. I wanna feel your little pussy pulse around me when you come,” he groans, and you let out a reedy whine in response. He grabs your hips and tilts them, changing the angle he’s fucking into you, and your entire body lights up.

“That’s it, baby, c’mon,” Javi begs, “Come for me. Show me how hard I can make you come.”

When he asks so nicely like that, your body simply can’t refuse.

The waves of pleasure gather behind your belly button and explode outwards as you scream his name, your legs shaking and cunt fluttering around him. Javi moans at your release, biting into your shoulder to keep from coming. When you begin to relax, he pulls out of you, a protesting groan dribbling out from your lips until he flips you back on all fours.

Javi lifts your hips in the air, your chest pressed to the mattress, and lines himself up at your entrance. “I’m not done with you yet,” he informs you, smoke edging his voice, and he sinks into you again. You let out a surprised but thrilled moan, as this is your favorite way to take him.

“My pretty slut wants to be railed from behind, hmm?” Javi teases, his movements fluid and confident. Sliding his hand down your arm, he sucks two of your fingers into his mouth before placing your hand between your thighs, right where he’s splitting you open.

“Rub that pretty little clit for me, sweetheart,” he orders, and all you can do is moan and comply. Javi grabs your hips, his blunt nails leaving tiny crescent moon indentations in your supple skin, reminders of how insatiable he is for your body. Small droplets of his sweat scatter across your back. Your drenched folds squelch lewdly as he plays your body like the finest orchestral instrument, knowing exactly how to elicit those gorgeous sounds from your lips. Your fingers swirl around your swollen pearl, spiraling you higher and higher towards your orgasm. You love feeling him like this, as if he’s in your throat, filling every single empty space within your body.

Your thighs begin to twitch and shake, and Javi knows you’re close. He braces against your shoulder for leverage with one hand, and lands a hard slap across your backside with his other while he bounces your body against his cock. Your moans have turned to wails, a desperate whining edge to them.

“Fuck, papi,” you keen, “fuck me, fuck me, fuck meeeee.” Javi ratchets his movements up another level, pounding into you earnestly, his own release coiling in the pit of his stomach. “Fuck this cunt, it’s yours,” you beg, and your filthy mouth in the throes of passion may send him to an early grave, albeit with his dick wet.

“You gonna come again for papi?” he asks rhetorically. Your head bobs vigorously, your fingers a blur between your thighs. He’s barely holding on, seconds from exploding.

A stream of pornographic whimpers leaves your lips. As they get higher in pitch, your cunt squeezes his shaft tighter, and now he’s moaning unabashedly.

“Oh, fuck, Javi, I’m coming” you manage to moan before you scream into the bedding, shattering, pussy clamping down on his cock. He whimpers loudly, burying himself, and unloads rope after rope of thick cum inside of you. Shaking with each twitch of his cock, he leans forward to blanket you with his body. Javi gently rolls the both of you to your sides, remaining inside of you. The air settles with only your and Javi’s heavy breathing echoing in the room.

Once you catch your breath, a smile breaks out across your face. You press kisses to Javi’s forearms. “This is the best New Year’s Eve celebration I’ve had yet,” you muse, leaning your head back against Javi’s strong chest.

He huffs a laugh, then pulls out of you gently with a quiet groan, the warm trickle of his cum from your wrecked pussy following shortly. He turns you to face him, his hands framing your jawline, and he softly sponges his lips to your forehead, running his nose down the bridge of yours before kissing it. “Night’s not over yet, nena. I believe you mentioned some steaks?”

Giggling, you nod affirmatively. “Great,” he continues, kissing along your neck, “because once we’re done enjoying those, I’m gonna enjoy you all over again. It is my full intention to have you literally coming straight through the new year.”

The answering grin on your lips is so bright, it could rival the Times Square New Year’s Ball drop. “Well, happy new year to us, then, Agent Peña.”

Tagging those who I thought might like some Javi P smut:

@mountainsandmayhem @alltheirdamn @sin-djarin @joelmillerisapunk @arcanefox207

@mermaidgirl30 @itwasntimethatdidit40 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @campingwiththecharmings @qveerthe0ry

@yxtkiwiyxt @almostfoxglove @almostempty @swankyorange @alltheglitterandtheroar

@yorksgirl @pedropeach @pedrospatch @jolapeno @max--phillips

@baronessvonglitter @puddles221b @evolnoomym @slimybeth69 @perotovar

@penvisions @indiegirlunited @eupheme @heareball @reggiesfilthylittlesecret

#shelly's fic recs #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #narcos smut #pedrohub #reblog reply #nice people saying nice things

416 notes · View notes

romancherry · 1 day ago

Text

Wheels & Whiskey

Chapter 1: A Night Out

pairings ➝ biker!joel miller x doctor!reader

summary ➝ you have been evoiding him for a while. now, your friend unknowingly drags you somewhere you cannot escape him.

warnings ➝ none

word count ➝ 951

author’s note ➝ i will post this now, without editing it or adding a cover and whatever. i'll pray for the best, and if i wake up in the morning and see this blowing up, i'll continue it. love yall!

do NOT repost, reupload, translate or plagiarize my work.

After busy days at work in the hospital wore you down completely to the point you were literally married to the job and never leaving the house unless you had to go to work; it was clear your best friend had to do something about it.

Maria is your well trusted nurse, but a devilish little friend. She moved into town at the same time you did, which was about two months ago, so she didn't know how things really went around here; and neither did you. But you thought it would be common sense not to come here.

You almost jump back into the car when you see where she has driven you: to none other than Wheels & Whiskey, where the big bad bikers gather every day and every night.

You begged her to go home and enjoy yourselves there, but she was too excited to see what all the fuss was about. "I wanna know what bikers eat for dessert," she said. So that's when you realized you had no chance.

It didn't help that everyone knew who you were. The second you walked inside, people made space for you to pass through. "How are you so popular?", Maria asked. "I stitched all the people in here at least twice," you replied.

It was half the truth. Indeed, some of the privilege was granted because you had earned it through your medical capabilities. But most of it came from someone else entirely.

Joel Miller. The owner of the local and the leader of his stupid gang of bikers. The one who's been flirting with you ever since you came into this small town, where everyone knew anyone. You couldn't escape him even if you wanted to.

Joel sat at the far end of the bar, his usual spot, nursing a beer and watching the crowd like a hawk. As the door swung open, his eyes flicked toward it, locking onto you the moment you stepped inside.

Your entrance didn't go unnoticed. The usual murmur of conversation died just a moment, and everyone gave you a little extra space. Joel smirked into his drink, taking a slow sip. He knew why they did that. It wasn't just because you were a doctor.

It was because you were his — and everyone in here knew it, apart from you.

He found you very interesting. He wasn't sure if it was the way you didn't fall for the small-town charms or how you'd walk past him with that cool, detached look on your face, but you weren't like anyone else in this place. And if he was being honest with himself, it made you damn hard to resist.

He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. His eyes never left you as you made your way through the crowd.

Maria, the one who had no idea what she was walking into, was giddy with excitement as you passed her.

Joel's smirk twitched. He could already see her trying to play it cool, acting like she wasn't intimidated by the sheer presence of everyone in this room.

But you? You walked around here like you owned the place. And Joel wasn't one to let you slip by without a little something, a little spark to keep the fire going.

He stood, stretching, before crossing the room in a few long strides, stopping just in front of you and your friend.

"Good evenin', ladies." Joel said, his voice laced with amusement. "Guessin' you didn't come here for the food." He looks up and down at you twice. "Not that I blame you. It's pretty damn good, but I wouldn't say that's what brings most people in here."

He leaned closer just enough to let you feel the heat from his body and that familiar scent of him. "So, what's got you all worked up tonight? You need a drink, or maybe just some company?"

His eyes flicked to you and then to Maria, and then back to you. "I could show you around, if you're interested. I can think of a few things that might keep your attention." His voice dropped a little, playful but with an edge of something deeper.

"Though, I'm not sure your friend can keep up." Joel's grin was easy, but there was something behind it. He wasn't looking for you to turn him down tonight.

"Maria, this is Joel, the owner of this local. Joel, she is Maria, my friend from work."

Joel's smile didn't falter, even as you dismissed his advances with practiced indifference. He was used to your cool demeanor, but it never stopped him from trying to chip away at it.

"Nice to meet you," he said, his tone smooth as velvet. "I'm sure you'll find the place... interesting," he added, looking around with a knowing glance that made it clear this wasn't just any regular bar.

"This is... a lot," Maria's eyes widened as she took in the surroundings, looking around at the rough crowd, the tattoos, the flexing muscles.

Joel chuckled, the sound warm but tinged with the kind of confidence that came from knowing exactly who he was. His gaze shifted back to you, that flicked of challenge still in his eyes.

"I'll take care of you tonight, Doc. You need anythin', you let me know. Drinks are on me, as always."

Maria shot you a glance, clearly impressed by his boldness.

Joel tipped his beer toward you in a small salute, the unspoken challenge still lingering in the air, before he turned back to the bar, sliding back into his seat, his eyes flickering toward you one more time, almost like a promise.

He wasn't going anywhere tonight.

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #the last of us #tlou hbo #tlou #joel tlou #tlou fanfiction #biker au

86 notes · View notes

andy-15-07 · 2 days ago

Note

hiii! i saw that your request is open. i would love to read about reader and pedro planning to go public

reader and pedro have been dating for almost a year but never go out on public together because reader wasn’t ready with people’s response and she has some trauma from her previous marriage (got cheated on and divorce). pedro was also scared that paparazzi & fans will bother her. but now after they said ily and sure about each other, they finally planning to go public

thanks in advance 💖

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x female reader

Word Count: 1235 | requests are open!

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the city. From their apartment window, they watched the lights of the skyscrapers twinkle into life, creating a breathtaking panorama. Inside, a comfortable silence hung in the air, a quiet anticipation buzzing between them.

Y/N sat on the edge of the couch, her gaze drawn to the swirling patterns in her coffee cup. Beside her, Pedro stood by the window, his profile etched against the vibrant hues of the sunset. A thoughtful expression softened his features, his eyes tracing the city lights as if lost in a private reverie.

Almost a year had passed since their relationship had blossomed. A year filled with stolen moments, whispered confessions under the cloak of night, and an unwavering support that had deepened their bond. Yet, their love story remained a secret, shielded from the public eye and the inevitable scrutiny that came with fame.

Y/N had always been wary of the spotlight. The echoes of her past marriage, a painful chapter marked by betrayal and heartbreak, still lingered. The discovery of her ex-husband's infidelity had left deep scars, a constant reminder of the vulnerability that came with exposing her heart. She had vowed to protect herself, to keep her love life private.

And then there was Pedro, a man who understood her fears, who respected her boundaries with a gentle patience that melted her heart. He never pushed, never pressured her to share their love with the world. He understood the potential pitfalls – the intrusive glare of the paparazzi, the relentless scrutiny of the public, the way their love story could be twisted and sensationalized. He knew how easily something beautiful could be tainted by the harsh glare of fame.

But something had shifted. Their love had evolved, deepening into an unwavering foundation. It was no longer just about the private moments they cherished; it was about building a life together, a life they yearned to share with the world.

Pedro turned from the window, his gaze finding hers. He walked towards her, his footsteps a soft rhythm on the wooden floor. He sat beside her, his hand reaching out to gently cup hers, his thumb tracing soothing circles on her knuckles.

"We're really doing this, aren't we?" he asked, his voice a low murmur, a question hanging in the air.

Y/N looked up at him, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. "Are we?" she echoed, the uncertainty in her voice betraying the whirlwind of emotions swirling within her.

He smiled, a warm, reassuring smile that reached his eyes. "We're ready. I know you've been through a lot, but with you, I feel an unwavering certainty. I want the world to know how deeply I love you. And I'm ready to face whatever comes our way, together."

She squeezed his hand, his touch a grounding force amidst the fluttering in her chest. She had spent countless nights battling with doubt, fear gnawing at her, picturing the judgmental eyes and the potential for heartbreak. But in his presence, she felt a newfound strength. She could do this.

"I love you too," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "But I'm scared. Scared of the judgment, of the possibility of it all being torn apart."

He gently stroked her hand, his touch a silent reassurance. "I know, mi amor. I understand. I wouldn't want anyone to hurt you. That's why I've been so cautious. I've seen how the public can twist things, how they can turn something beautiful into a spectacle. But we can't live our lives in fear forever. We've waited long enough."

She took a deep breath, letting his words settle into her soul. There had been countless sleepless nights, the weight of the decision pressing down on her. But with Pedro by her side, the fear seemed to diminish, replaced by a newfound resolve.

"I don't want to hide anymore," she confessed, her voice trembling slightly. "Not from you, not from them. I want to be with you, openly, without the constant worry."

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "We'll do it when you're ready, mi amor. Together."

A comfortable silence settled between them, a shared understanding unspoken yet deeply felt. They had made the decision, but the path ahead remained uncertain.

"So," Pedro began, his voice light, attempting to break the lingering intensity, "how do we want to announce it? Instagram? A joint interview? Maybe a staged paparazzi photo?"

She chuckled, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. "Let's not go for the full 'paparazzi' act. But I think I'm okay with social media. It feels like the most natural way to share it."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Sí, I think so too. Maybe a simple photo of us, something casual, something that captures the essence of who we are."

"Real," she echoed, the word resonating deeply within her. It wasn't about creating a spectacle, but about sharing their authentic selves with the world. "It's not about impressing anyone," she added. "It's about showing them who we are, no matter what they think."

He pulled her close, his embrace a comforting cocoon. She rested her head on his chest, finding solace in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

"Are you sure?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He pressed another kiss to her hair. "Más seguro que nunca, mi vida."

They remained like that for a while, simply holding each other, the weight of their decision settling into their souls. It was a significant step, a leap into the unknown. But there was also a sense of liberation, a feeling of finally stepping into the light.

As the night deepened, they started to plan. They would post a simple photo of them together, a candid moment captured, a reflection of their genuine selves. No grand proclamations, no elaborate schemes – just a glimpse into their love story.

When the time came to post it, her heart raced. Pedro was by her side, his hand gently resting on her thigh, a silent anchor amidst the storm of emotions. She could do this. They could do this.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the Instagram app and uploaded the photo – a casual snapshot of them walking hand in hand, laughter sparkling in their eyes. She paused, her finger hovering over the 'post' button, a wave of apprehension washing over her. Then, with a trembling hand, she pressed it.

The world would see them. It wasn't just a relationship; it was their life, their love, unfiltered and authentic.

The response was immediate, overwhelming. Messages poured in from friends, family, fans, and colleagues. The support was abundant, but so were the inevitable questions, the curiosity, and the occasional critical comment. The scrutiny was inevitable. But for the first time, she didn't feel alone. She had Pedro by her side.

He squeezed her hand as they scrolled through the comments together, reading the messages of love and support.

"We're doing okay, aren't we?" she asked, her gaze meeting his.

He smiled, his eyes twinkling with pride. "Más que okay, mi amor. We're doing fantastic."

The future remained uncertain, as it always did. But one thing was certain – they would face it together, hand in hand, no longer hiding in the shadows. It wasn't about impressing the world, but about sharing their love, their story, with the world. And that, in itself, was enough.

98 notes · View notes

capuccinodoll · 1 day ago

Text

Okay. First part is ALREADY UP!! So excited for this new story!!

Let me know what u think <3

The boyfriend act ✦ series masterlist

Summary: All you wanted was to get to Austin, but instead of your brother, it’s Frankie —Santi’s best friend, the one you can barely stand— who shows up in Dallas. He’s just doing your brother a favor, but the trip takes an unexpected turn when a stop puts you face to face with your ex — the guy who broke your heart three months ago and is now about to get married.

Out of pride, you blurt out a lie: Frankie is your boyfriend. Surprised but willing to play along, he agrees, with one condition — you must accompany him to his mother’s birthday. His plan? Dodge his family’s meddling and their endless matchmaking schemes.

Rating: EXPLICIT (+18) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!! Paiting: Frankie Morales x F!reader WC: X

✦ fic content ✦

PART ONE: "The one with the proposal"

PART TWO: coming january 24th

More parts to be announced!

beautiful divider by @saradika-graphics <3

271 notes · View notes

pedge-page · 2 days ago

Note

Hey, could you do one for Javier Peña for piss kink please? :) if you can. It can be any scenario. Thank you!!

notes: it has been a minute for smut writing and especially PK, but thank you to those who are still ready to read!

Javi's Letting Go

Javi Peña x F!Reader

Warnings: Piss kink, slight piss drinking, unprotected sex, creampie, brief shower sex, rough sex, dom!javi then docile!Javi!, oral m!receiving, not proofread

18+ ONLY

- - - -

It was way too fucking humid tonight. His clothes stick to his body even after showing in his own apartment. Even his leather couch was painful to get up from.

They got another false lead today.

He was going insane. Set up a whole squad to track it for two weeks only for it to be bogus. Wasted time. Wasted money.

He wanted to be wasted right now.

So that’s what he did, right as he called you up.

When he opened the door, you were standing there with glittery lashes, a tight dress borderline wedging up your ass, and fishnet stalkings begging to be torn.

His eyes were baggy and hooded. He made no attempt to hide the way he looked up you and down, purring low in his chest as he checked your legs. A brown bottle dangled loosely from his left hand as he propped himself with an elbow against the wall.

“Already started without me?” You coo, grasping his chin with your thumb and sauntering in like you were here daily.

Lately, you were.

“Fuck, Javi!”

The bed frame rattles aggressively against the poor wall. It was hot as shit in here, but the activities between you were not helping cool anything down in the slightest.

He bares his teeth as he shoves your face into the mattress, pulling your ass flush against his hip again. He cock plunged deliciously inside you, his tip kissing your cervix.

He was trying to fuck you into oblivion.

You weren’t lost on it. The way his fingers dig a little too incessantly into your sides. He keeps re-gripping you, like he’s not happy with any place he can put his hands and keep them there. The sweat dripping from his chest onto your back makes you think he’d been thinking more with his brain too lately than his body. That’s why you’re here.

His pace is hard and fast followed but deep, harsh strokes in and out. He’s putting his hips into over drive, trying to find the spot inside you to get both of you to cum.

You’d already cum, with how much he’s been drilling you into the bed. A pillow propped right below your waist, your clit snagged perfectly against its plushness. You shivered and whined each time, but it never did him any good. He just kept going ,determined to reach his high. He could always feel when you cum. In fact, he’d usually change his own dynamic to make sure you rode yours out before going for another.

There was nothing else on his mind right now. With the way his thighs slapped obscenely against the back of yours, he wasn’t thinking about anything else except his own elusive orgasm.

“Javi—please,” you croak. You manage to tilt your head to the side, breathing in the air instead of the sweaty pillow you’d been biting the last hour. “Let me—let me suck you off this time--mmf!”

He grasps your mouth with his meaty palm and crowns over your body tightly. His hips pumping madly, in and out, while you whimper into his palm repeatedly.

You can hear his panting, like it’s desperate and hoarse. Like he’s trying to strangle his cock in your cunt. He’s been on the verge for hours and yet—nothing has crescendoed him into release.

“FUCK!” He shouts, forcing his dick deep one last time inside you before pulling out and away from you.

You let out a breath through your lips.

The slick sound of his cock beating against your pussy lips makes you turn slightly, your eyes scanning his face for the first time in a minute.

His eyes are squeezed shut, veins in his forearm and bicep flexing to their straining point as he fists his shaft at lightening speed. his nose scrunches in frustration. It’s not working.

You know he had a bad day without him saying so.

He breaths out one last time then tosses both arms into the air in defeat. His hands come down and fist his own hair, but he says nothing.

He’s staring up at the ceiling for so long, he almost forgets you’re there were it not for the gentle tickle of your lips pressing ever so softly below his belly button.

He looks down, your doe eyes staring back at him. You kiss him again there, hovering over his happy trail. He feels your pretty nails grasp his pelvis, splayed out across his lower abdomen. It’s like a tease, but he’s still trying to figure out what you’re doing.

His wet tip bumps against your chin.

“Try something f’me,” you whisper, giving it a soft kitten kiss while watching him.

He doesn’t respond, but doesn’t flinch away either.

You take that as your cue to press a little firmly into his public area. He lets out a surprised grunt.

“Shhhh.” You nuzzle your nose against his lower belly there, right above the base of his cock.

You’re doing something to him, something he’s not sure about. It’s like you’re unwinding him from the inside, convincing his body to let go of what his mind is so damn tightly holding on to. He’s too intrigued by your actions that he doesn’t have half a mind to fight it off. the alcohol in him is finally able to take over. Swimming through his veins and finally letting him breathe.

“I want you to do what feels natural,” you hum, your thumb dancing along his hairs before pushing in again.

“Oh shit—“Javi lets out a grunt again, almost a whimper. “I don’t think—“

“Then don’t.”

Your tongue swirls around his bulbous head, tasting his precum and your dried juices mingling together. You part your lips, tongue holding his cock upright so he can see his tip resting in your mouth. You jerk his lightly, just enough that he can feel tingly.

His chest rises and falls, stuttering. He swallows. He feels his hands dangle uselessly by his sides but he doesn’t mind. His stomach pulls in on itself then pushes out.

He looks at you one last time for reassurance. You nod. You’ll take it from here.

So he closes his eyes and surrenders. Floats for a minute. Only feeling you stimulating him down there, and nothing else matters.

For the first time all week, he feels cool again.

A feint hissing sound brings him back to Earth. When he looks down again, he almost falls backwards.

A steady stream of yellow liquid is leaving his tip and entering your mouth, flooding your tongue before spilling down your cheeks and chin and onto your tits and stomach.

He’s pissing in your mouth, and you’re letting him.

There’s a little tug at the corner of your lips, wanting to smile. You’re proud of him.

He should stop. Fuck he should stop, this is so wrong—he’d never defile you like this!

But his body in control now, and there’s no stopping it. He goes and goes and keeps going. Urine splattering the back of your tongue and bouncing out to trickle below. You’re absolutely covered in it, shiny under the lamp light and dampening the sheets below you as if it were yours.

The taste was bitter but you stayed still, letting him piss out everything he had drank tonight. You cup your tits below, and his eyes flicker down.

Pursing your lips, you slurp the messy stream loudly like a water fountain. He helps angle his cock so that it aims down your neck and over your breasts, splashing. The two of you grin.

It’s fucking good.

Using your fingers, you draw the hood of your clit back. Javi catches on quick and directs his stream down there. “Oohhhhh,, fuck yeah baby…so fuckin’ warm,” you moan. You spread your legs wider, one hand keeping your folds apart so he can piss on your pussy, the other groping your tit and pinching your nipples.

When he finally releases everything that was inside him, he lets out a sight. You’re completely covered in urine. his urine. Slick and smelly and sexy as ever as you play with your pussy mixed with his piss.

He falls on top of you, your body wetly pressing against his. His tongue finds your lips, uncaring of the taste of his own liquid gold as you make out heavily. He slips his cock back in, thrusts in and out deep but slowly. The two of you moaning into each other until you’re both cumming. Shivering from toe to head, he paints your walls white. You feel euphoric, your core warm and squeezing perfectly around him as you milk one another.

He kisses your collar bone, sated. “Thank you.”

It’s on the fifth night straight in a row that you’re over. He’s just pressed you flush against the shower wall, petting out a harsh pant before you feel the overwhelming rush of warm filling you and quickly leaving between your legs and down the drain.

“You’re getting better each time,” you hum, biting your lip. The sensation overwhelms you, and your own piss is joining his down your legs.

He chuckles against your cheek. “You’re gonna do it in my mouth next.”

- - - -

Taglist: @harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow @wintersquirrel @fluffygoffpanda @picketniffler @bbyanarchist

@romana-after-dark new pk for you

#pedro pascal smut #narcos smut #javi pena smut #javi pena x reader #javi pena fanfiction #javi pena fic #narcos fanfiction #narcos fic #javi peña smut #javi peña fanfiction #javi peña x reader

71 notes · View notes

myownwholewildworld · 13 hours ago

Text

i honestly can't help myself. i know it's not wip wednesday yet but i just want to leave this lil' snippet of chapter 6 of ACTA, NON VERBA and run for the hills, because my brain does be rotting rn. enjoy x pairing: conqueror!marcus acacius x ofc!reader. warnings: 18+, mdni. dirty thoughts, dirty mind.

You couldn’t stop thinking about him, about what happened yesterday morning. Every time your mind wandered, it ran back to the exact moment Marcus buried himself in your slick heat for the first time.

How he made you feel. How he ensured you were comfortable and thriving under his touch. How he talked you through it and paced it down to make the whole experience even more pleasurable. How his fingers found refuge in your pussy, working you expertly in preparation to take him. How your cunt deliciously burnt with that heavenly stretch.

How you were gushing now for him, craving the fullness of his dick, pussy desperately clenching around nothing.

“Dè air thalamh? (What on earth?)” you mumbled to yourself, shaking your head to clear your mind.

The fact that the memory kept coming back―to your despair―was dangerous, extremely dangerous. Yes, sex had been good ― no, fucking amazing. But it didn’t mean anything, nothing at all.

A means to an end, that’s all he is, you mentally reprimanded yourself.

It shouldn’t bias you, despite how good he had fucked you. You couldn’t get… attached, because whatever this was, it was doomed from the beginning. That was what you had decided the first time you locked eyes with him in the battlefield, and you were not one to go back on a promise. Especially one you made to yourself ― to avenge your family.

To your disgust, you had to admit to yourself that it was harder to keep the focus on that now, knowing how satiated he had left you yesterday. It was truly shameful that you were looking forward to getting fucked stupid again.

In a couple of hours, hopefully. You couldn't wait to have Marcus plunge in and out of you. In... Out... So deep inside…

You bit your bottom lip down out of pure, horny desperation and pressed your knees together, containing the dampness that threatened to soak your underwear if you didn’t rein your thoughts in.

“A bheil thu nad shlàinte, mo bana-phrionnsa? (Are you well, my princess?)” Brighid’s soft voice pierced through your wet daydream, bringing you back to reality.

Blinking rapidly, you gave her a stern nod. A muted reply, since your throat felt dry with desire.

“Are you sure, my lady? You look flushed. There’s a fever going around in the village,” she pushed, lips pouted with concern.

Fuck, kill me now.

“I’m fine, Brighid, don’t worry,” you croaked once you found your voice.

Your cheeks were burning and had nothing to do with an illness. Unless feeling cock-drunk could be considered an ailment. Maybe it should.

“Are Daimh and Iona sick? Perhaps you―”

“They are fine. It’s just hot in here with the hearth running on full blast,” you cut her off, slightly embarrassed by the fact that Brighid had noticed your flustering.

31 notes · View notes

doeeyezz · 3 hours ago

Text

bye y'all my ride is here

#pedropascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #big nose #oldermen #javier peña #joelmiller

22 notes · View notes

heartlessvirgo · 3 days ago

Text

Thread of Gold

Summary:

In fair Rome, where we lay our scene, Two hearts untouched by fate, are bound unseen. One, of power and glory, stands apart, The other, bound to labor, keeps her heart. You, a maid of humble hands and toil, Your days are filled with work, with sweat, with soil. You know not how his eyes follow your stride, Nor how his heart, in silence, does confide. For though you do not know him, cannot see, His heart beats only for the one you’ll be. The great man stands, and in his world of pride, He aches for you, though worlds apart you bide.

In fair Rome, where we lay our scene, Two hearts, unseen, will cross where none have been.

Paring: Marcus Acacius x F!Reader

Warnings: Slight Angst, Swearing, don't touch her, Kissing, heavy petting, MDNI, very brief interaction of assault but it never happens

Word Count: 8.5k

A/N: idk if you could tell, but this is DEFINITELY inspired by Romeo & Juliet. So yes, this is my first post ever, so I hope you like it! I'm more into writing smut so yes there will be a part two. Also my inbox is open if you want to suggest any prompts or just wanna chat! -mel

In the heart of Rome, where the gods’ shadows fall long and the streets pulse with the rhythm of ambition, two lives move along parallel paths. One so high he commands the gaze of the city; the other so low she slips beneath it unnoticed.

In this city, glory is currency, and men like Marcus Acacius are rich beyond reckoning. You have seen him once, only once, though his presence lingers everywhere. In the square where his name is whispered in awe. In the cloths you wash, edged with the gilded trim that marks his station. He is a figure carved of legend, towering and untouchable, his every step commanding the gaze of all who dare to look.

You, by contrast, are invisible. A shadow among shadows. A woman bound to this corner of the world, where the gods’ blessings feel like distant stars—present, perhaps, but far beyond your reach. The life you lead is unremarkable, confined to the walls of his domus, where you work tirelessly, ensuring every garment, every linen, is immaculate. And yet, there is a restless pull within you, one that stirs whenever the thought of him takes hold. Women, of all ranks, all ages, wanted a second look from Marcus.

The city is alive with firelight and fervor, its heartbeat a relentless drum of steel and blood. Through the small, arched window of the laundry quarters, you watch as the arena’s shadow spills over the streets like a looming promise. The roar of the crowd seeps through the cracks in the walls, mingling with the damp scent of lye and the ache in your hands from scrubbing linen all day.

You press a damp tunic between your fingers and glance out again. Tonight, Rome hums with anticipation, and the stars themselves seem to lean closer, their light sharp and cold. Somewhere out there, General Acacius moves with the confidence of a man who belongs to this world, his every action a chapter in the history of Rome. You tell yourself it is foolish, the way your pulse quickens at the mere thought of him. But the truth? The truth is that just like every other woman, he has already become a part of you, as inevitable and inescapable as the dusk.

As the night deepens, the domus quiets, the servants retiring to their quarters, leaving the halls hushed and dimly lit. You linger, folding the last of the linens, the familiar task grounding you amidst the whirlwind of thoughts. The distant clatter of hooves and the muffled murmur of voices signal his return from the arena.

The domus is a labyrinth of polished marble and flickering lamplight, a place where servants like you slip through the shadows, unseen but indispensable. You step into the courtyard, the bundle of linen cradled in your arms, the warm air brushing against your skin. The flicker of torchlight plays along the stone paths, and there, by the fountain, stands Marcus Acacius. His armor, dulled with the dust of the arena, glints faintly, a testament to his earlier triumph.

He turns slightly, his gaze meeting yours across the space. You freeze, heart thudding, caught in the weight of his attention. For a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you, the night folding in around this fragile, unexpected connection.

A gust of wind stirs, and a linen sheet slips from your grasp, drifting toward him. Without hesitation, he steps forward, catching it mid-air with a practiced ease. His movements are smooth, deliberate, as he approaches and offers the fabric back to you.

“Are these yours?” he asks, his voice low, almost a whisper, yet carrying the weight of authority—a sound you would never expect from a man who commands legions and stands before emperors. The gentleness in his words is at odds with the strength of the man in front of you, like the softest caress against the iron of his character.

“Technically,” you respond, your voice quiet but steady, “they belong to you, General.” You reach out, your fingers slow, unsure, yet compelled. The moment they brush against his, the contact is electric—fleeting, but it leaves a spark that lingers in the air. The linen is still warm from his hand, and the heat seems to seep into your skin, your pulse quickening with the knowledge that you are standing in the very presence of a man who could make cities fall with a single word.

"Thank you, My Lord" you murmur, the words slipping from your lips like a secret confession carried on the night air, barely more than a whisper, yet loud enough to echo in the space between you.

His gaze lingers, a silent question in his eyes, as if he’s searching for something beneath the surface, something beyond the simple garb and the labor-worn hands. For a fleeting moment, it feels as though the world narrows to just this—the soft glow of torchlight between you, the quiet breath of the night holding its secrets. His attention is not the indifferent glance of a master, but something deeper, as though he glimpses a hidden truth, a spark that even you have not yet named.

But before the moment can unfurl its full meaning, you drop your gaze, the weight of his scrutiny too much, too intimate. You step back into the familiar cloak of duty, retreating into the rhythmic solace of your tasks, a shield against the unfamiliar vulnerability he stirs within you.

As you slip away, the warmth of his presence clings to the air, a tender ache that lingers against the cool night breeze. The silent imprint of him, like a shadow stitched into the fabric of your thoughts, remains even as you cross the threshold back into the quiet confines of the domus. You remind yourself of your place, a maid woven into the tapestry of his grand world, a mere thread among the opulent patterns.

And yet, for the first time, a whisper of possibility stirs within you. In the vast sprawl of Rome, beneath the gods’ indifferent gaze, you begin to wonder—if only in the quietest corners of your heart—whether there is a hidden path where your worlds might converge, where the stars might align not for destiny or glory, but for something as simple, as profound, as two souls meeting in the shadows.

You don’t think of him often—not since the night when your paths crossed briefly. You’re too busy to dwell on whether or not he was simply being kind or if you really should let it get to your head. It’s not like you were dressed of high status, but the swish of your dress, the way the fabric moved around your legs, was finer than most servants. The pale blues and soft greens of your gown caught the light in a way that made you feel as if you were not entirely beneath notice, as if, for a fleeting moment, you too could belong to the grandeur of Rome.

The fabric, though not rich enough to be woven of silk, flowed with a subtle elegance, catching the breeze like a whisper of the sea. The hem swept across the floor as you walked, the soft rustle of it almost like music. Your dress was simple in cut, with a bodice that clung to your form, but the delicate, intricate embroidery along the edges of the sleeves—an ornate pattern of pale threads—was a touch that spoke of care, of something more than the rough linens most of the other servants wore. It was a piece worn with purpose, like a quiet rebellion against the life you were bound to. The colors, a delicate play of light and shadow, somehow made your skin glow, almost made it seem as thought you were wearing gold. Adding a touch of grace you didn’t quite feel but carried as if by fate.

The flickering torchlight cast long shadows down the hallway as you made your way to Marcus’ private quarters, the linen bundles heavy in your arms. You didn’t always deliver his fresh linens, but tonight, you were tasked with changing his bedclothes. It wasn’t an unfamiliar duty, but it always seemed more... personal when it was his chambers. The scent of battle and blood always lingered in the air around him, a stark contrast to the soft linens you worked with. With your hip, you push the door open, humming a tune they sing on the streets after his many triumphs. Walking in, the spacious room is still, a soft glow flickering against the stone walls.

You set the basket of clean linens on the ground and straighten your back, stretching the ache from your shoulders. The air smells faintly of earth, leather, and a hint of sweat—a trace of the arena’s unforgiving world. You make your way to the large bed, and it is only as you begin to strip the old linens off the mattress that you hear the soft scrape of a chair shifting behind you.

For a moment, you don’t register the noise, too absorbed in your task. But then, you freeze, your pulse quickening when you realize that someone is in the room with you. Slowly, you turn, and to your shock, Marcus is standing near the basin, looking directly at you.

You hadn’t heard him come in, hadn’t expected him to be home so soon. It’s too late to pretend you didn’t notice, too late to retreat gracefully. Your eyes widen, and the bundle of linens slips slightly from your grasp.

"My lord," you stammer, pushing yourself off the bed, straightening your posture immediately as you avert your gaze to the floor. The flush of embarrassment warms your cheeks, and you twist your fingers nervously. "I... I was not aware you had returned."

He looks at you with a quiet curiosity, his expression unreadable. The flickering light casts shadows across his face, emphasizing the sharp angles of his jaw and the dusting of stubble along his chin. His presence is commanding, even here, in the quiet of his private quarters.

“I’ve soiled my hands,” he says casually, his voice deeper than it was outside the arena, quieter now that he’s removed from the noise of the crowd and the cheers of victory. You watch as he outstretches his hand, palm splaying as if to prove his point. His tone is matter-of-fact, yet there's a hint of something—something unspoken—in his words. "I shall require assistance before I retire for the evening."

You blink, still adjusting to the idea of him here, so close you could smell him. With a deep breath, you approach him, your voice measured and respectful. “Of course, my lord. I will see to it immediately.” You round him as he takes a seat, his knees widely spread as he waits.

You reach for a cloth to dip in the basin of cool water, but before you can wet it, his eyes lock with yours. There’s an intensity in his gaze, a deliberate search for something in you. It’s not an unfamiliar gaze, but it feels heavier now, more focused.

“I fought with men today, trained until bloody.” he says, his voice low, almost surprising in its softness given the violence of his day. "And yet, it is the touch of a servant’s hand I now seek to cleanse mine."

You dip the cloth into the water and step closer, careful not to brush against him too much. The closeness of his body, the heat of it, makes your breath catch in your throat. Still, you manage to keep your hands steady, wiping away the dried blood from his fingers, watching the red turn to a soft pink as the water turns clear again.

“You’ve done much more than fight today,” you remark, your tone neutral, though a flicker of amusement twitches at the corners of your lips. "Perhaps you would do well to rest, and not burden your servants further with tasks such as these.”

Marcus chuckles softly, a dark sound that fills the space between you two. There’s an edge to it, but it’s not unkind.

“Is it not my right to make use of those who serve me?” He raises a brow, his smile faint but teasing. “A servant such as yourself should be honored. Not every hand is worthy enough to touch mine.”

You keep your gaze fixed downward, your hands moving with practiced rhythm as you gently wipe the remaining dried blood. The quiet clink of water and cloth the only sounds in the space. Yet, the teasing quality of his voice, low and laced with something you can’t quite name, makes the task feel strangely light. Each word he speaks seems to linger in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning, drawing your attention despite your best efforts to remain focused.

"I suppose I should consider myself fortunate then," you murmur, the words slipping past your lips more easily than you expect. “Thank you my lord,” They come out with a playful lightness, a fleeting defiance that surprises even you.

Daring a quick glance upward, you meet his dark eyes—and immediately regret it. There’s something in the depths of his gaze that catches you off guard. Soft, warm brown eyes that hold you in place, like the calm before a storm. A hint of approval, perhaps, or something else—an unreadable softness that contrasts with the steel of his presence. Your pulse quickens, and for the briefest moment, the world narrows to just him, to that knowing look.

"Or maybe I…" His voice trails off, leaving the air charged, thick with the weight of possibility. He holds your gaze, his eyes unwavering, while the silence stretches long and taut between you, each second stretching to infinity.

The task you’re performing—simple, mundane—feels worlds away from your reality now, the proximity to him like a pull you can’t escape. His hands, calloused from battle, rough from a life carved in the crucible of the arena, seem so foreign against the delicate fabric of your world. Yet, as you finish cleaning them, your fingers brush against his skin, lingering a fraction longer than necessary. The contact is fleeting, but it sends a ripple through the air, a subtle shift that you can feel deep in your chest.

You pull away, but the warmth of his touch, the hardness of his hands beneath yours, stays with you long after you set the cloth aside. The space between you feels electric now, charged with something unspoken, a current that hums quietly in the silence. And even as you return to your task, you know it will be hard to forget that moment—impossible, almost—to erase the sensation of him from your thoughts.

The room pulses with decadence, a feverish spectacle of excess. The grand hall is alive with the sounds of revelry—laughter, music, and the clinking of goblets. Torches line the walls, casting their flickering light over the guests as they indulge in a feast fit for the gods. The air is thick with the scent of roast meats, rich perfumes, and the sharp tang of wine—too much wine. In every corner, men sit, their faces flushed, eyes glazed with drunkenness. The emperors, Geta and Caracalla, are seated at the head of the table, their arrogance and power radiating like a cruel aura. They watch the festivities unfold with bored amusement, their presence elevating the indulgence around them.

But it’s the women who catch your attention most. Naked bodies drape over the tables, lounging languidly as if they were mere ornaments to be admired or used. Their flesh glistens with oil, and their eyes, half-lidded, seem to reflect nothing but the sheer emptiness of it all. They move slowly, seductively, their every gesture designed to provoke. Some are feeding the men, their hands brushing against chins and lips as they serve wine. Others are entwined in the arms of their drunken patrons, their bodies exposed in the light of the torches. Their laughter is high-pitched and shrill, blending with the deeper rumble of the men’s voices.

You weave through the crowd, your heart in your throat, trying not to make eye contact with anyone. You’ve been serving wine for hours now, your hands trembling each time you fill a goblet, praying you won’t spill a drop. The fear of messing up gnaws at your insides, the thought of being dismissed from this gilded cage and cast into the streets where you would have nothing—nothing but your own shame. You’ve heard the rumors, the stories of women like you who make one mistake and are forgotten, discarded into the shadows.

There are whispers of women being sold off, sent to the brothels to satisfy the whims of men with too much power and not enough restraint. You can't bear the thought of that fate. Every moment feels like a test, and your very existence in this palace depends on getting it right, at least just for tonight.

As you approach one of the tables to refill a cup, your hands are unsteady. You can feel their eyes on you before you see them, but when you do, it’s too late to turn away. One man reaches out, his hand heavy and demanding as he pulls your arm toward him. His touch is rough, fingers curling around your wrist as though you are nothing more than an object for his amusement. “Bring me more wine,” he growls, his breath sour. The men at the table laugh, their voices growing louder, and you feel the weight of their gaze like a hundred burning coals.

Embarrassment flares in your cheeks, curling like a wave as your pulse quickens, a wave of panic rising in your chest. You’ve seen how things like this can escalate. One wrong move, and you could be caught up in something far beyond your control. You glance toward the emperors, towards anyone, hoping for any sign of mercy, but everyone is too absorbed in their own conversation, their attention elsewhere.

The man’s hands, rough and brutal, clamp down on your hips, pulling you into his lap with a violent tug. You try to squirm, but his grip is unforgiving, forcing your body flush against his. The noise of the banquet fades into the background as his scent overpowers you—wine, sweat, and the sharpness of his lewd intentions. He grins, his fingers curling into the fabric of your gown, pushing it upward with slow, insidious intent.

You freeze, your stomach sinking as the sickening realization of what’s about to happen sinks in. His laughter is thick with malice, and the men at the table cheer him on, urging him to take his pleasure. You try to move, try to push him off, but the more you struggle, the tighter his grip becomes. The fear creeps in deeper, threatening to drown you—this is how it ends. You can feel the tightness in your chest, the suffocating fear that claws at your throat. One wrong move, and you might never escape.

"Don't be coy, little cunt," he slurs, his words thick with wine and malice. "You know what I want."

And then—without warning—the world shifts. He doesn’t speak, not at first. There’s no grand gesture, no booming voice to call attention to the scene. He doesn’t have to. His presence alone is enough.

His hand wraps around the man’s wrist with a precision that is almost surgical, twisting it with enough force that the man is forced to release you, his drunken eyes widening in shock. Marcus does not raise his voice. He doesn’t need to. The mere presence of him in this space is enough to still the crowd. No one dares to challenge him. His grip on the man’s wrist tightens, but his eyes, his focus, never leave you. There’s no hesitation in his gaze—only the quiet promise of safety.

“Unhand her,” Marcus says, his voice so low that only you and the man can hear it. It’s a command, but it’s delivered with such calm authority that the man stumbles backward in his seat, like a child caught stealing. He’s humiliated, his bravado cracking in an instant. Without a word, he retreats, almost tumbling over his own feet to get away.

Standing to your feet, the blood rushes to your ears, a deafening woosh that drowns out everything else. Your vision spins as you stumble, the shock of the moment still rippling through your body. Marcus is there, his grip tight around your arm, almost too tight, like he's afraid you'll slip away from him. His touch is rough, more forceful than you expected, and it sends a shiver of something unfamiliar down your spine.

"Easy," he mutters under his breath, though there’s no softness in his voice. He drags you through the crowd, his hand never loosening on your arm. His steps are swift, urgent, and he doesn’t look back to see if anyone follows. You can feel the weight of his presence pressing against you, a silent warning that no one should dare cross him.

The music fades as he leads you out of the feast hall and into a quieter corridor. The air is cooler here, but it still carries the weight of what could have been. As you pass through the halls, the sounds of the party grow faint, leaving only the heavy thud of Marcus’s steps and your shallow breath as you try to match his long strides.

The halls opens up to a balcony, one that overlooks the courtyard and in the distance all of Rome. But instead of the calm respite you might have expected, you find a different kind of chaos unfolding. You are alone, save for a man who sits, his legs spread wide, with a woman kneeling before him—her naked body is outlined against the torchlight, her hands working between his legs as the man grunts in pleasure. The scene is raw and obscene, an undeniable reminder of the brutal, dehumanizing nature of the world they live in.

For a moment, Marcus tenses, his jaw clenched tight, the fury in his chest palpable. His hand tightens around your wrist, pulling you sharply away, as if the sight itself might stain you. His breath is heavy, laced with the sharp scent of wine and something darker—something possessive. His gaze flickers over the scene for a moment longer, but then he drags you away, pulling you further down the hall, deeper into the shadows.

"Look at me, not them," he commands, his voice harder now, something dangerous simmering beneath the surface. You don’t question him. There’s a rawness in his tone that cuts through the haze of the evening, and you understand. You know. This isn’t about the woman, or the man. This is about you.

Once you're in the relative safety of the hall, where only the dim light of the torches casts long shadows across the stone floors, Marcus stops. His grip on your arm loosens slightly, but his eyes are dark, hard.

“You cannot remain here,” Marcus says finally, his voice low but filled with an intensity that makes your stomach churn. His gaze flickers over your face, as though he’s searching for something, though you aren’t sure what. “Not with them. Not with any of them. How did you get in here?”

His words are blunt, and they hit you like a stone sinking into your chest. The emperor’s men, the drunk revelers, the lecherous eyes—they all see you as an object to be used, to be taken. Marcus is the only one who doesn’t look at you like that. But the thought of him dragging you further into this world, this suffocating, corrupt world, leaves you cold.

“The emperors servants requested help for tonight, I had no other choice-” You meet his gaze, and for the first time, you see the storm in his eyes. The quiet kind that he uses for battle, for the arena.

“You are not safe here,” Marcus continues, looking around, and for a moment he looks frightened, though it’s unclear whether he’s speaking to you or himself. “I’ll have someone escort you back to-,” he adds.

“I cannot,” you interrupt, your voice trembling more than you want to admit. You pull your hand into your chest, cradling it as if it were something precious, something vulnerable. Your body feels stiff, like a fragile thing that could shatter at the slightest movement.

“They will notice... and they will have my hand.” The words taste like ash in your mouth, but they’re the truth. You’ve seen how easily women like you disappear in these circles, how quickly favor can turn to disdain and then to something worse.

Marcus’s jaw tightens, his gaze flicking back toward where the music continues. But he knows what lies behind the flashing smiles and empty laughter—the cold, calculating eyes of the emperors, always watching, always waiting for someone to slip, to make a mistake.

His hands clench into fists and in the dim light, you notice the tinge of wine on his lips. Was he with a prostitute tonight? Was that why it took so long to notice you in there? Perhaps, but what right did you have to feel a twinge of jealousy?

His voice is low, urgent, when he speaks again, pulling you from your thoughts. “They will notice, yes. And that is why you must leave, now.” His tone is sharp, a command wrapped in concern. “They will take interest in you, and there is nothing I can do to stop it. I will not let them use you. Do you understand?”

You nod, your throat tight with the weight of his words. The truth stings—the helplessness that lurks behind his voice, the admission that even Marcus, with all his strength and authority, can do nothing against the emperor’s whims. For the first time, you feel something cold seep into your bones—an understanding of just how far out of control this world is. You feel small under his gaze, his protective grip, but at the same time, there’s something else. A flicker of warmth.

You are escorted home, though the word feels far too generous. Home is not here—this room, these walls, are not for you. You shouldn’t even be in his quarters, but somehow, here you are.

Your fingers twist together nervously, the motion a quiet echo of your restless mind. The room is too quiet, the weight of it heavy on your shoulders. You should be in the servant's quarters, cleaning or organizing, doing anything but this. But instead, you’re here, alone in his space. It’s an unspoken rule, a boundary you should never have crossed. And yet, you can't bring yourself to care as much as you know you should.

You should leave. You know you should. But you can’t.

The double doors open to reveal General Acacius, his frame a silhouette in the dim light. His head is low, as if weighed down by thoughts, his broad shoulders tight with something unreadable. His hand runs through the thick, dark tendrils of his hair, the motion heavy, like he's trying to rid himself of the night’s thoughts.

He lifts his head slowly, his gaze first distant, then sharpening, focusing on you. You stand there in the half-light, your figure framed by the silver streams of moonlight spilling through the window. For a heartbeat, it feels like the entire world holds its breath.

His eyes meet yours. Soft, warm, brown eyes. The kind of eyes that have seen so much, but in that moment, they hold a depth only for you. And for a fleeting second, you could almost believe there’s a softness in him—a tenderness buried beneath the soldier’s armor, beneath the hardened exterior. But you look away before it lingers too long.

He clears his throat, the sound rough and unsteady, a sign of something at war inside him. “You shouldn’t be in here,” he says, his voice low, almost a murmur, as if the words are meant to be heard by no one but himself. Yet, they hang between you both, thick and raspy.

“I’m sorry,” you shift, trying to find the courage to meet his gaze again, but all that fills your mind is the memory of the night—the emperor’s party, the assault, his strong hand pulling you away from the danger with an ease that belied his own inner turmoil.

“Do not apologize when you do not mean it,” Marcus doesn’t move, though you feel his presence grow heavier in the space. It’s like he’s standing on the edge of something, caught between two choices—between the man who would offer you safety and the man who has this position of power. You can almost see the conflict in his posture, in the way his muscles tense and relax with each breath, the way his gaze drops to the floor before he meets yours once more.

“Did they hurt you?” His voice is rough, a question steeped in something more than concern—a longing, perhaps, that neither of you can admit. Finally, he steps forward, the doors slowly shutting behind him, sealing your fate.

His hands flex by his sides, a movement so small but so telling. You know the weight of his power—the way people listen when he speaks, how the air shifts around him when he steps into a room. But here, now, standing in front of you, there is something else beneath that hard exterior. The way he watches you, how he holds himself back as if one wrong move could shatter the fragile moment between you both.

“No, nothing you can see.” His breath catches, just enough to betray him. And for a moment, you wonder if he’s thinking the same thing you are—how different things would be if he didn’t have to be the general, if you didn’t have to be the servant. If he could reach out and say the things he kept locked inside.

But he doesn’t. His gaze drifts, tracing the outline of your face, his lips barely parted as if he’s struggling to find the right words. And you know he won’t speak them, because what good would it do? You’re not his to want. Not like this. Not when his world was filled with danger, not when he’d drag you down to the depths of hell.

Marcus’s voice cuts through the dim light, low and edged with frustration. “You foolish girl, do you have a death wish?” His words are sharp, but beneath them, there’s a tremor of something more—concern, perhaps, though buried deep.

You stiffen, surprised but not silenced. “Foolish? I am bound by duty, as you are. What would be truly foolish is to expect a servant to wield choice where none exists.” Your words strike the air between you, defiant, but his stance remains unwavering. It is almost as though he anticipated your defiance, relished it.

“You are under my charge,” Marcus replies, his gaze steady. “Why was I not informed of this before it transpired? Surely I should be privy to the whereabouts and well-being of my household.” His chin lifts, the authority in his tone unyielding.

“What transpires, and what you are told, is not for me to dictate,” you retort, meeting his gaze without flinching.

“Indeed.” He nods, as though your response has confirmed his point. His calm exterior is maddening, the tension building beneath his collected demeanor.

The fire in your chest blazes, and before you can stop yourself, the words escape. “Did you not notice me before? Or were you preoccupied with some other... entertainment?” The accusation hangs in the air, brazen and dangerous.

“Entertainment?” Marcus echoes, his brow lifting. His eyes trace the curve of your neck, the heat of his gaze searing more than your words. The insult seems to have glanced off him, leaving his focus elsewhere—on you.

You tilt your head, your heart pounding, desperate for a reaction, an answer that might betray his thoughts. “Perhaps you are not the lauded general they claim, if such distractions elude your notice.”

Despite your cutting words, a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. In the muted glow of the room, it’s unmistakable—a flicker of amusement, or something darker, something that hints at a desire he cannot fully suppress.

But still, that longing flickers in the depths of his eyes, the unspoken desire that clings to the air between you, unnoticed by you but so obvious to him. It’s a yearning he can never voice, a passion that burns quietly beneath the weight of his armor.

For a second, you almost believe that if you were to step closer, you could see it all—the man who wishes to be more, the man who needs to be something else. But you don’t. Because in the end, you know your place here.

You stand frozen, feeling the pull between the heat of his gaze and the heavy, uncertain air that hangs between you.

His presence is overwhelming—his broad silhouette, his dark hair falling in soft waves, and the glint of gold on his chest catching the dim light, each piece a reminder of his power, his status. The rich, earthy scent of his skin, the leather of his armor, the faint trace of something warm and intoxicating—like the spice of sandalwood—fills the space, making your head spin.

You can see the beautiful curve of his nose now, and the gentle parting of his lips—so close you could feel the heat radiating from them. You’ve never been this close to a man before, let alone one as dangerous as him.

“Fierce as you may be, you are too gentle for a world such as this,” he murmurs, his voice rough like the grind of stone beneath a soldier’s sandal. The words don’t feel like an insult, not in the way you might have expected, but more like a declaration. His gaze softens, though, as he watches you, his eyes flickering with something you can’t name.

“Too gentle?” you echo, a soft defiance lacing your tone. “Blame the gods, the endless wars, and the emperors with their insatiable greed and selfish ambition. It is they who have hardened the world, do not mistake gentle for naivety.” You should step back. You should flee. This isn’t your place. But the words flow freely from your throat. A hot realization erupts in your cheeks, how close you stand, the distance between your warm bodies. You’ve never been kissed before, never felt this kind of pull, and so it makes it impossible to move.

Marcus’s gaze softens, the weight of your words settling heavily on him. He steps closer, the flicker of something unspoken in his eyes. “Perhaps,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost reverent. “But it is the world we live in. And in it, gentleness can be a dangerous thing.”

His hand reaches out, hovering near your cheek but never quite touching. “You’ve known too little of the world’s cruelties, and I fear what it might do to you.” His brow furrows, his voice dropping further. “I would keep you from it if I could.”

Marcus doesn’t give you the space to retreat, though. He closes the gap between you both until there’s barely an inch separating you, his breath mingling with yours as he gazes down at you. The weight of his presence presses down on you—his chest rising and falling with each breath, the swoosh of his robe brushing against his body as he moves, the weight of his armor glinting in the light, and the softness of his gaze pinning you in place.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice a soft reverence. “You fight me, yet, I envy you. Too soft for this place. This world... it’s made for men who know how to fight. But you—" He leans in, close enough that you can smell the remnants of wine on his lips as he whispers, “—you don’t belong here. Not in a world that takes what it wants without mercy.”

His hand comes up, fingertips grazing the side of your arm, tracing your exposed neck and to the side of your jaw. The touch is tentative, as if he, too, is afraid of what might happen next. His thumb brushes the line of your jaw, tracing the curve of it with an intimacy that leaves you breathless.

“Do you know what it feels like?” he asks softly, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “To be wanted, to be taken... like this?” You shake your head, suddenly too nervous, too overwhelmed to respond.

Marcus pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression a blend of uncertainty and something darker—something you’ve never seen in him. "Unspoiled, unclaimed, like a bloom untouched by the winds of desire." he says, almost as a statement of fact, as though he’s seen it in you all along.

“I—I…” You can’t find the words. The heat of the moment, the closeness of his body, the dangerous allure of him… it’s all too much. Too many emotions, too many sensations flooding your senses at once.

His hands tighten on your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no distance between you. “Stop me now,” he warns, his voice a rough whisper against your lips, “or I may not hold my temptation much longer.”

He draws nearer, his presence a shadow that looms over you, his breath warm and steady against the delicate curve of your lips.

“Never been kissed,” he says softly, almost to himself, his voice thick with something like understanding. The need to taste his lips has never been more overwhelming, a hunger that rises within you like a fire. Your chest tightens, and you feel the sting of tears threatening to break free, though you fight them back, for what would it mean to weep in the presence of such a man?

You nod, the words lodged in your throat, but he doesn’t wait for more. His hand lifts, fingers curling at the back of your neck, and a shock of surprise courses through you. You barely have time to breathe before his lips descend upon yours—no gentleness, no hesitation, only raw, fervent hunger. It is not calculated, not gentle—it is the kind of kiss that betrays restraint and spills over with urgency. Your teeth knock together awkwardly, and you gasp, struggling to adjust to his force. Your hands, trembling, hover unsurely for a moment, before they find purchase on his chest, gripping the fabric of his tunic as if it is the only thing anchoring you to this moment, to him.

“So sweet,” He moves against you, his lips pressing and pulling with a fierce rhythm, slow at first, as though searching for the proper cadence. Your body reacts before your mind can catch up, trying to mirror his movements, but the pace quickens. Just when it seems you might falter, just when you think you’ve lost control, he deepens the kiss, and warmth spreads from his mouth to yours, igniting something within you. Your senses whirl, and for the briefest moment, you forget the world outside the space between you both.

He pulls back just enough to breathe, his forehead resting against yours. "You deserve more than this," he murmurs, his voice rough, a mix of reverence and regret. "More than a man bound by duty and chains."

Marcus pulls back just slightly, and your eyes open, meeting the soft brown of his. The tenderness in his gaze nearly undoes you. His hand moves to your jaw, his touch reverent, almost as if he is afraid you will break. His lips find yours once more, but this time, it is different—more deliberate, more certain. His kiss is no longer tentative but deep and urgent, as though he is claiming a piece of you that only he can touch.

You lose yourself in it—the heat, the pressure, the pulse of his mouth. His teeth catch your lip, and it stings, but you barely notice. A whimper, whether yours or his, fills the space, but the sound is lost in the rush of breath, in the mingling of lips and skin. You feel the roughness of his stubble against your chin, the faint taste of wine lingering on his tongue, and still, there is no hesitation in him, no caution. Only the need that pulses between you both, growing louder with every second.

The kiss is imperfect, nothing graceful or refined about it. Your noses bump, lips miss their mark, but none of it matters. All that matters is him—the way his hands are on you, pulling you closer as if the world would unravel if he let go. His fingers tangle in your hair, his grip tight, as though afraid you might slip away. The fire of his touch, the pulse of his heart that you can feel through the chest of his tunic, it is all you can focus on. His teeth graze your lip again, a gentle pain, but you do not mind.

All the awkwardness, all the hesitation that held you back before, it crumbles. His warmth wraps around you, and you, helpless in his arms, yield to it entirely. The only thing that remains is the kiss, the consuming kiss, and the undeniable need that surges between you both—untamed, undeniable.

His mouth is now fierce, a wet warmth, his tongue gently coaxing yours to move with his. The kiss is greedy, passionate, as though he’s starved for this moment, for you. He presses you back until the back of your knees press into the frame of his bed, his hands sliding to your waist. He pulls you flush against him, the hard outline of his body unmistakable beneath the softness of his robe.

Every inch of him seems to burn, the strength of his body almost suffocating, and yet you can’t bring yourself to be the first to pull away. His lips are insistent, coaxing yours open, and you melt into the kiss—his dominance over you impossible to ignore. His hand slides to the small of your back, pulling you tighter against him, the heat of his skin searing through the thin fabric between you both.

You gasp into the kiss, a soft moan escaping your lips, and Marcus groans, the sound low and guttural, reverberating through his chest and underneath your fingertips. He’s still guiding your hands, placing them where they reach, urging you to feel the solid strength of him. His lips move down to your neck, and you tilt your head back instinctively, exposing the soft curve of your throat, offering yourself to him in a way you never thought you would. In a way you’ve never given yourself to anyone. In this moment, you wonder if any other man could ever possess you as he does. None could live up to the gravity of his presence.

The kiss grows deeper, wetter, as his tongue traces the line of your jaw, the taste of him heady and overwhelming. His lips are insistent, pulling at you with a hunger that feels both terrifying and exhilarating, and you can feel your body responding to him, to the roughness of his touch and the heat that pulses between your delicate thighs.

"Yet here I stand, unable to turn away." His gaze meets yours, the weight of his longing evident in his eyes, before he kisses you again, slower, savoring every moment like it's the last. "I want to consume you," he breathes against your skin, his voice raw with desire, and it’s a statement that leaves no room for doubt.

With a swift, commanding motion, he softly pushes you back onto the bed. Mouths still connected, his quiet growl of restraint echos between your lips. His body follows, a heavy, searing weight settling between your thighs, pushing you into the soft sheets. The heat of him radiates, suffocating, intoxicating—his raw masculinity demanding your attention.

His breath comes quicker now against your mouth, and you feel the undeniable hardness of him against your core, the pulse of his need unmistakable. His hands roam, one still on your neck, the other sliding to the flesh of your ass, feeling the curve of your body as if he cannot get close enough. And yet, even as he takes, he’s gentle—as gentle as a man who has killed men with his bare hands can be.

You shift beneath him, grinding upwards into him, desperate for the contact against you clit, for the something that you don’t fully understand. Your breath hitches, and before you can stop it, the words spill out in a trembling whisper. "Please, Marcus..."

His breath stutters, and his hands tighten on you, the muscles in his jaw clenching, as if battling the very thing he wants most.

The kiss fades, but the heat of it clings to your skin, lingering like the aftertaste of wine long past its prime. Your body still trembles, caught in the aftermath of something you cannot name. But Marcus—he pulls away, his face hardening, as though the very touch of you has scorched him.

His eyes, once soft and filled with unspoken promises, harden into something cold, distant. He stands before you now as if the very air between you both has become too heavy to bear. The warmth of the moment slips away, replaced by an unfamiliar chill that settles in your chest.

“This cannot continue,” Marcus declares, his voice low yet unmistakable, carrying the authority of a man accustomed to giving commands. From the foot of the bed, his robe sweeps behind him like a dark stormcloud, the fabric rustling as he takes a step back.

His gaze lingers on you, but it is not the soft, searching look you had felt moments before. Now, his eyes are cold, hard, as though he’s seeing a stranger rather than the woman he held in his arms. You instinctively press your knees together, hands trembling as you smooth your gown down, desperate to regain some semblance of composure under his gaze.

“My lord, I... I beg your pardon,” you say, stumbling over your own words, the breath stolen from your lungs. “Forgive my presumption. I did not mean to overstep my place.” You bow your head, as though the mere act of addressing him with familiarity has caused this fracture. You stand hurriedly, your dress falling to brush against the floor.

"I expect you to remain in the shadows, where you belong. There is no place for you in the light, not with me, not with who I am." His mouth punctuates your pain, lips swollen from your very own mouth.

You feel his words as though they strike you in the chest, a sharp, sudden ache that forces the breath from your lungs. Your hands, trembling, clutch at the edges of your tunic, as though you might collapse into yourself if you do not. His gaze shifts to the floor, as though ashamed to meet your eyes—yet there is nothing to soften the edge of his tone, nothing to soften the cruel command that falls from his lips.

"I will ensure you never again suffer the indignity of those gatherings," he continues, his words laced with the formal coldness of a man who has seen too much and is too bound by duty to feel what he does. "Those places are not for you. I will see to it that you are kept from them, from their dangers."

The promise rings hollow in your ears, for you know—this is not about the danger of those parties. This is about something else entirely. You, standing before him now, no longer hold the place you once did. You are no longer the woman he held in his arms, no longer someone he could desire, someone he could protect. The emotional whiplash rattles your brain, causing you to wrap your arms around yourself.

"I do not understand," you whisper, the words feeling foreign on your tongue, weak and insubstantial.

You take a step toward him, but he raises his hand, palm outstretched in a gesture of command, halting you where you stand. You are no soldier, no warrior of Rome. You are a woman—a servant, and one should know her station. The silence between you thickens, a reminder that you are beneath him, beneath his station, his power.

“There is little you need to know of Rome's affairs,” he says, his voice taking on the sharpness of a man accustomed to command. “I am a general, bound to duty, not to frivolity or indulgence.” He crosses his arms over his chest, as though presenting himself before the emperors themselves. His posture is rigid, his expression one of resolve. “I have no time for the distractions of the heart, nor the weakness they bring.”

You lower your gaze, a moment of silence passing as you weigh his words. But within you, something stirs—a quiet defiance, a refusal to be entirely subjugated. You raise your chin, your voice steady, yet laced with the hint of something that feels almost like a challenge.

“I may be but a servant, Dominus,” you say, the title heavy on your tongue but not without a certain firmness. “And I may not know the ways of Rome, nor fully grasp the weight of your command. Yet, there is one truth I understand: love, my lord, is not a weakness. It is the mightiest battle of all. And it is not to be abandoned.”

You hold his gaze for but a brief moment, the fire in your heart clashing with the cold detachment in his eyes. For a single breath, time stills between you, as though the weight of your words presses down upon both of you, thick and suffocating. His silence is a weight more burdensome than any words could ever be.

With a deep breath, you break the stare, turning away without a word, your movements slow, measured, as if to make your departure a solemn act. Each step feels as if it carries you farther from him, the space between you growing with each echoing footfall. The air around you becomes heavier, like the very gods themselves bear witness to this unspoken rift between master and servant. The distance you now place between you both feels infinite, yet it is his silence that follows you, louder than any shout, more final than any command.

64 notes · View notes

quailbuster · 17 hours ago

Text

Loose Threads

-ONGOING, PART TWO-

READ PART ONE HERE

Check it out on ao3! Kudos go a long way:))

Pairing: Javier Peña x Female Reader

Summary: A series of Flashbacks from your tumultuous relationship with Javier Peña.

Warnings: Explicit, Sexual content, mixed race reader, Angst, mentions of miscarriage, Grumpy Javier, Original characters, NON-LINEAR storytelling, swearing, slight reader x original character but that's a teeny sideplot, Leon is based on gabriel luna's version of tommy miller sorry he's so fine, poor mother relationship, ONGOING

December 20, 1987

Houston, Texas

You landed in Houston for Christmas with your family. Tanya greeted you at the airport, her face lit with glee upon seeing you. Her newfound sense of happiness put you at ease. After the miscarriage, and the breakup, she was shattered for obvious reasons. She hadn’t even finished college and playing house too early backfired on her. The two of you shared a long hug, and you kissed her head. “Thanks for pickin’ me up, Tanya.”

She whispered in your ear, “Mom’s here too.”

You nearly felt your gut drop.

“Fuck. Could we stall?” You pulled away from your sister and saw the frown on her face.

“She really wanted to see you. I think she’s ready to hear your apology.”

You mumbled as the both of you walked towards the parking lot, “The fuck do I have to apologise for…”

You saw your mother anxiously pacing next to her car, a gift in hand. When she finally saw the two of you, she smiled and held her arms open. You were pulled into her hug, using the excuse of your luggage to stand like a twig and not hug her back. “Hey, ma…”

She hummed into your ear, and placed a wet kiss, pulling away to grab your face and look at you. “How was Bogota?” You shrugged and moved to place your luggage into the trunk. She was much shorter than you, her hair was box-dyed blonde and you could see her attempt at bulking it. It didn’t make her look any younger if that’s what she was hoping for.

She handed you the gift and told you to open it after dinner, excited to see your reaction. You smiled, thanked her, and tossed it into the trunk.

The three of you jumped into the car, your sister kindly replacing your usual passenger spot so that you could avoid your mom’s incessant questioning about Bogota. Of course, you wouldn’t get out of it that easy. You answered every question with a monotone ‘Yeah’ or ‘Okay’, even making an occasional noise to seem interested in her story. Houston was drab compared to Colombia.

The last time you saw your mother was the night before the bar. You’d gotten into a big, big fucking argument over your safety in Colombia. That was fair enough, but she ended up twisting the argument around to blame you for even going there in the first place. Too many hurtful insults were thrown, and she’d ended up pushing you over some furniture. Your dad’s cowardice and inability to step up to your mother disgusted you, and you stormed back to your hotel room.

You’d call him every so often from Colombia, he’d give you tips to hold up better, tell you to stay away from the men, and then he’d send you on your way after a 15-minute call so that he could have another smoke break. The calls became sparse after a while, but you still tried.

You reached home and your dad was waiting outside the door, grinning like he’d just seen the biggest plate of empanadas in his life. You ran towards him, throwing your arms around his neck and yelled “Papi!”. He hugged you back just as tight, you smelled the cigarette smoke on his jacket. “Welcome back, Mi hija.” His accent seeped through heavily.

Dinner came, and Tanya brought you over to the bathroom to ‘show you something’. You leaned against the counter, watching her as she nervously laughed and paced, hesitating to say something. You grew irritated with her and pushed her to speak.

“Just say what you wanna say.”

“I didn’t tell them.”

“Tell them what?”

“They think I’m still…” She pointed to her belly. You furrowed your brows, “What. The fuck. Tanya!” You nearly yelled.

“Shhh, shut up. I’m gonna tell them.” She put a hand over your mouth, only letting go once she was confident you were going to keep your voice down.

You scoffed, blood boiling. “Tell them when? Tanya, you don’t expect them to believe you? It’s been three months and you’re not showing.”

“It’s not really their business.”

“Dad deserves to know, at least.”

Your father had always been supportive of your decisions in life, he was elated when he heard the news of Tanya’s pregnancy. His eyes glimmered whenever it was mentioned, and you knew your heart would just shatter if they glimmered again. All he wanted was to have kids, a grandchild would have been his entire world. It was your mom who would probably break some plates upon hearing the news. Hell, it took her a month of breathing exercises and one Time magazine about ‘Children having Children’ for her to finally come to terms with it.

“I don’t know, they might forget!” You had a look of disbelief on your face as she grasped at straws trying to justify herself, “They haven’t mentioned it at all since Evan left.” You heard the painful way she said her ex-fiancee’s name, she wasn’t okay. She was trying to hold it together for this gathering.

“Fuck, Tanya… They’re probably expecting a Grandkid now. Don’t keep their hopes up.”

You barged out of the bathroom and flinched when you saw your mother heading towards you with a plate of cut-up fruit.

“A little snack!” She gleamed, but you could see through it. She was definitely going to torment you at dinner tonight.

And she did. She pestered you with questions about a boyfriend, and your job which she disapproved of, until she got to the topic of grandkids.

“Tanya…” She started, a concerned look in her eye, “How’s the baby?” Of course, you noticed your dad’s eyes. This was going to hurt like crap.

You snapped your head towards your sister, who was picking at her turkey and potatoes like it was a dead frog.

“Fine.” She replied monotonously.

“What else?” Your mother pushed.

“It’s fine.”

“Do you know the sex yet? You know, if it's a boy labour's gonna be-"

Tanya dropped her fork on the table and stormed off, your mother chasing after her with a frown on her face. Your dad was silent throughout the whole ordeal and the two of you shared a glance, his of confusion and yours of melancholy.

“What happened?” He asked.

You shook your head and gestured for him to keep eating until they came back.

When they did, Tanya left through the front door and your mother was red in the face, fuming.

Tanya didn’t contact your mother for a year after that, and you never found out what she said.

—

June 19, 1989

Bogota, Colombia

The sun was blaring on your face, rays threatening to burn you as your eyes fluttered open. The soft ‘mew’ from Rio, your cat, was the first thing you heard, followed by his forehead bumping into your hip. You reached out a hand to stroke him once, twice, three times before you stretched and got out of bed.

The window was already open, humid air caressing your face before you felt a hand do the same. Your eyes fluttered back shut as you fell into the touch, feeling lips press to your neck and right shoulder. You ran your hands through his hair as he slowly spun you towards him by your waist.

“Mm… Buenas.” You mumbled against his chest, eyes still shut.

Between the two of you, Spanish was the most intimate way you could communicate. Though you spoke it, it seemed to only be a Javi-exclusive feature. You wouldn’t even speak it to your own dad, a man of pure Colombian blood. You hadn’t actually spoken to your dad in a while, but you’d always put it off till the next day. And the next. Until it stopped being an expectation. Until he stopped waiting for your call every morning at 7:30 am because he got too old to. You preferred your solitude, but with Javier holding your body in his arms like this, you wondered how you ever lived without him.

He dropped his head and sniffed your hair deeply, not saying a word as his hand dipped to your ass, his hand squeezing it as though he were trying to mould its shape. You traced a finger along his exposed chest, twisting hairs gently and hoping to god he would take you on your bed one last time. But he couldn’t. He was leaving today, and you slept in. You didn’t even know whether you would see him again. He was leaving, and you slept in for three fucking hours. He was already dressed, and you were naked, save for those black panties that he’d fucked and kissed you through the night before.

But you would see him again, it became routine. You’d come to realise eventually that he did this every time he left you. He’d wake up at 4 am, leave you sleeping, and give you a chaste kiss before he was gone without another word.

20 notes · View notes

jazzy96scorpio · 15 hours ago

Text

From House to Heart

Description: Desire ignites between You and a captivating client, your connection deepening amidst a whirlwind of passion, unexpected travel plans, and the allure of a California dream. [One shot]

Pairing: You / Nico (Pedro Pascal)

Warnings ⚠️: adult content, age gap (unspecified), sex, unprotected sex, pool sex, dirty talk, adult readers only, SMUT

The late afternoon sun in California casts a warm, golden glow on the mid-century modern house, bathing it in a soft, ethereal light. You stand outside, a young and perhaps too eager employee of Penn, the renowned real estate agent, tasked with the mundane yet necessary duty of showing this architectural gem to prospective buyers.

As you wait for the next potential buyer, you are struck by the beauty of the house. The clean lines, the open floor plan, the abundance of natural light – it is a testament to the era's love for both luxury and functionality. You are so engrossed in your admiration that you almost miss the doorbell chime.

You turn to see a man standing on the doorstep. He is handsome, undeniably so, with dark brown eyes, a head of curly brown hair, and a smile that could melt glaciers. You have seen him before but you have never have chance to meet him.

He is deep in conversation on his phone, his voice a low, melodious Spanish that flows like a river.

"Welcome," you say, offering a polite smile. "Can I help you?"

He gestures towards the phone tucked between his ear and shoulder. "One moment, please."

You nod, stepping aside to allow him to conclude his call. As you watch him, a strange sense of excitement, a flutter in your stomach, begins to grow. This is no ordinary viewing. This is something else entirely.

Finally, he hangs up. "I'm Nico," he says, extending a hand. "I'm traveling to Buenos Aires on Saturday. Came here to look around."

"Buenos Aires?" he repeats, explaining. "Have you been there before?" he asked you.

"Oh, no," you admit, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "But it's on my list."

"You'll have to go one day," he says, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "What's your name?"

"I'm [Your Name]," you reply.

"Pleasure to meet you, [Your Name]," Nico says. "Would you mind if I took a look around the rest of the house?"

Of course, you show him around, pointing out the unique architectural features and the luxurious finishes. You lead him to the backyard, where a sparkling pool catches the sunlight.

"You look beautiful in that skirt," he says suddenly, his eyes meeting yours. He smiles softly.

You feel a blush creep up your neck. "Thank you," you murmur, feeling a flutter of nerves you hadn't anticipated.

As you stand by the pool, Nico seems to be drawn to it. He splashes the water with his leg playfully.

Then crouches down, layed down resting his elbow on the edge of the pool and dipping his hand into the cool water. He seems almost mesmerized, playing with the ripples he creates.

You watch him, captivated. There's something undeniably appealing about him, a carefree spirit that seems to radiate from him.

"Is the water warm?" you ask, trying to change the subject.

"No," he replies, shaking his head and glancing up at you. "But it's refreshing."

An impulsive thought hits you. You kick off your shoes and socks, then slowly dip your feet into the cool water, splashing it gently.

"It is cold," you agree, shivering slightly.

Nico watches you with a curious smile.

"Have you ever... had sex in a pool?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

You feel a sudden rush of heat to your cheeks. "No," you admit, ""But it sounds... intriguing."

He leans forward, his eyes twinkling. "I wouldn't mind trying it sometime."

Taking a deep breath, you meet his gaze. "Let me show you the bedrooms," you say, your voice a playful counterpoint to the daring suggestion.

The air in the bedroom seemed to thicken with a newfound intensity. Nico, still sprawled on the plush carpet, pointed towards an empty wall.

"I wanna put a fireplace here," he mused, his voice low and husky.

"Make love by the fire. Plan trips, you know..."

You felt a shiver, not from the cool air, but from the unexpected turn of the conversation. "That sounds...amazing," you breathed, your voice barely a whisper.

"Come here," he urged, patting the space beside him.

You lay down beside him, the soft rug cushioning your back. As you gazed at him, your eyes fell upon his head of curly brown hair. "I like your curls," you whispered, gently tracing a finger along one of the tendrils.

Nico's eyes, dark and intense, met yours. He reached out, his fingers gently cupping your chin. Slowly, deliberately, he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a soft, exploratory kiss.

The world seemed to melt away, leaving only the two of you in that hushed bedroom, the air charged with a potent mix of desire and anticipation.

His lips moved from a gentle caress to a demanding exploration, his tongue tracing the contours of your mouth with a newfound urgency. You leaned into him, your hands instinctively reaching up to tangle in his thick, curly hair, pulling him closer, deeper.

He groaned, his hands moving with a practiced grace. His left hand slid down your side, the fabric of your skirt offering little resistance as he slipped his fingers beneath it, tracing the delicate curve of your hip. His touch sent shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you. He gently brushed his fingers against your panties, a teasing caress that left you breathless.

"Do you want this?" he whispered against your lips, his voice husky with desire.

"Yes," you gasped, "I fucking want you."

With a triumphant grin, he reached for the buckle of his belt, his fingers fumbling slightly with the sudden surge of adrenaline. You put your right hand in his boxers, your hand slightly trembling while you take them down.

Finally, they fell away, revealing him in all his glory. His dick was impressive, thick and throbbing, a testament to the intensity of his desire. You reached out, your fingers tracing the length of him, eliciting a low groan from his throat.

He was hard, so hard, and you felt a wave of dizzying anticipation wash over you. You were doing this before, you had some experiences but this raw, primal desire was unlike anything you had ever felt before.

He wasted no time, swiftly sliding your panties down your legs. With a gentle but firm hand, he moved you slightly to the side, aligning himself with your entrance. Then, with a deep breath, he entered you.

A low groan escaped his lips as he found his mark. His kiss followed, trailing down your neck. He moved deeper, each thrust slow and deliberate, exploring the depths of your body. His right hand found its way to your clit, a rhythmic caress that drove you wild.

"Ohh... you're so good..." you moaned, arching your back against him. "Please... fuck me harder."

He responded with a growl, shifting his weight onto you. His kisses rained down on your breasts, his lips teasing your nipples, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. Then, with a primal urge, he plunged back inside you, this time with a more forceful, passionate rhythm.

"Fuck yes...baby," he growled, "I like this pussy."

"Cum inside me," you urged, "I'm safe."

"Yes, I will.. baby," he promised, his voice rough with desire.

He continued to torment your clit, his movements becoming faster, more desperate. You cried out his name, your body arching, your senses exploding. Then, with a final, earth-shattering thrust, he cumms deep inside you, filling you with his love and cum.

You clung to him, gasping for breath, your bodies trembling in unison. The afterglow washed over you, a blissful peace settling over you both.

"You were amazing," you whispered, breathlessly.

"You too...baby," he murmured, his eyes still dark with passion. "That was something special."

"Let's drink some coffee," he suggested, his voice husky.

💦

After you rest for a while, as you sat sipping the coffee, he gestured towards the pool. "I'm gonna fuck you in that pool, sweetheart," he declared, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Let's go."

He took your hand, he was so gentle. You were already half-naked, the aftermath of your passionate encounter leaving little to the imagination. He quickly shed the rest of his clothes, his movements fluid and confident as he stepped into the cool water.

You followed, the water a refreshing contrast to the lingering heat between you. He pulled you close, his body pressed against yours, the water swirling around you both. His lips found yours in a searing kiss, his tongue exploring the depths of your mouth.

He moved against you, his hands finding purchase on your hips, guiding you deeper into the water. The sensation of his dick against you was intoxicating, the cool water adding a unique dimension to the experience. He kissed your neck, his breath hot against your skin, his hands moving lower, exploring the curves of your body.

He entered you slowly, his movements deliberate, savoring the sensation of your bodies moving as one in the cool embrace of the water. The world seemed to fade away, replaced by the rhythmic motion of your bodies, the sound of your own moans echoing through the air.

He moved faster, his hips thrusting against yours with a primal intensity. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his back, your cries merging with the gentle lapping of the water against the poolside. He kissed your breasts, his lips leaving a trail of wet, salty kisses.

Then, with a final, explosive thrust, he released inside you, his seed mingling with the cool water. You clung to him, breathless and spent, your bodies swaying gently in the aftermath.

The silence that followed was broken only by the soft splashing of the pool and the sound of your own heartbeats racing. You looked into his eyes, your gaze filled with a mixture of passion and contentment. This was an experience you would never forget.

"I'm gonna buy this house for us, sweetheart," Nico declared, his eyes gleaming with a possessive love that sent shivers down your spine. "I like it here."

"It's good," you murmured, your voice still husky from the aftermath of your lovemaking.

"Will you come with me on Saturday?" he asked, his gaze intense. "To Buenos Aires?"

"Yes," you replied, your heart swelling with a joy you hadn't felt in years. "I'd love to."

He leaned down, his lips brushing against yours. "Darling," he whispered, "Can I be your favorite?"

You smiled, your eyes sparkling. "You already are," you confessed, "And I... I really like you a lot."

He laughed, a deep, resonant sound that echoed through the humid air. "Good, because I like you too" he said, pulling you closer for another kiss, this one filled with a tenderness that mirrored the intensity of your earlier passion.

As you kissed, a sense of peace settled over you, a feeling of contentment you hadn't experienced in a long time. This was more than just a fleeting encounter; this was the beginning of something special.

Thank you for the reading 💜

#pedro x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedropascal #pedrohub #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal nico #Spotify #SoundCloud

16 notes · View notes

mysterious-moonstruck-musings · 1 day ago

Text

Lots of erection grabbing in the next chapter. Dieter is not complaining. Who’s ready? 😅

I’ve gone off the rails a bit, but she’s almost done! 🙌😭

Closed Position: Week 6 (Argentine Tango)

Closed Position Masterlist ||| Main Masterlist Dieter Bravo x OFC (Katarina)

Series Summary: Dieter Bravo, now sober, was looking to change his bad boy image after hitting rock bottom. His team hoped that having him join the nationally televised family friendly dance competition, Dancing with the Stars, would be a good first step, if they can keep him out of trouble.

Katarina Stamos expected her last season as a professional dancer on the show to go the same as it had for the past thirteen seasons. That all changed when she was partnered with the infamous Dieter Bravo.

Dieter and Katarina are reluctantly thrown into their partnership and must learn to work together to succeed in the competition. In the process they form a deeper connection beyond the dance floor that neither anticipated.

Chapter Word Count: 27.3k (I know, I'm sorry!)

👉 Warnings: Themes dealing with intimate partner violence (not by or toward Dieter), past alcohol abuse, and past drug abuse. There will be fluff, tears, spicy language, and smut. This will be a slow burn. Read at your own risk. Dieter Bravo comes with his own warnings.

👉 Chapter Warnings: Dieter and Kat both being a menace, improper use of a dressing room, smut, fluff, and physical assault (Alec is a dick)

Chapter Quote: “Can’t have you gettin’ confused and grabbing the wrong erection.”

Dieter’s POV

I was still riding high from our perfect score as I sat in the chair staring at my reflection in the vanity mirror. I shouldn’t have been shocked given how perfectly in sync Kat and I were during the performance, but I was. I never thought I would find myself in this position - happily sober, having the high score on a dance competition TV show, and completely in love with my dance partner. The thought of it was blowing my mind. There was only one explanation for it, to put it simply, it was Kat. Her unyielding faith was all it took to help me see myself in a different light. She made me realize that I’m stronger than I give myself credit for and I’m actually not a shitty person. She gave me the courage to be a better version of myself and have the things I didn’t think I was worthy of.

My attention was drawn from my thoughts by the buzzing of my phone. I had a new text from Evan and another from my agent, Lenny. I tapped to open Evan’s.

Evan: Dude, if you two are trying to keep things on the down low, you suck at it. That performance was 🔥🔥🔥.

Me: That obvious? Fuck.

Evan: Yeah, better be prepared for the inevitable speculation to ramp up.

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose as a soft knock sounded at my door. I assumed it was Kat as I called out, “Door’s open.”

A petite brunette tentatively stuck her head through the crack as she opened the door. I recognized her as Marc’s partner. Shit. What’s her name? She’s the TikTok girl. Sarah? No…Stefanie!

“Hey, Stefanie. What’s up?” I asked, a little confused by her presence.

She pushed the door open further to step inside. She was wringing her hands together as Marc followed her through the threshold. She seemed tense and unsure.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Dieter. It may be nothing…but I just saw Alec coming up behind Kat in her dressing room as she shut the door. It looked…odd. I don’t think she knew he was in there. I know they’re…”

Blood was suddenly pounding in my ears. I didn’t hear the rest of her sentence as I stood from my seat and asked, “Did you see him come out or hear anything?”

She shook her head, “No, but it gave me a weird vibe. With everything going on, we felt like someone should know.”

I nodded, already moving toward the door. “She doesn’t wanna be alone with him. Thank you for telling me.”

Without giving it a second thought I was jogging down the hall toward Kat’s dressing room, vaguely aware that Marc and Stefanie were following behind me. I felt sick. Something doesn’t feel right about this.

I began knocking and calling out to her as soon as I reached the door, “Kat, it's me. Can I come in?”

I got nothing but silence in return. Marc turned to one of the other couples who were standing just outside a dressing room across the hallway. “Did you see Kat or Alec come out?” he asked. With wide-eyes, they shook their heads no.

I could feel my heart pounding out of my chest. If they were only talking, she would still answer me. Right?

I knocked harder, “Kat, I’m coming in.”

I reached for the knob and twisted, but it was locked. “Fuck!”

My chest was heaving as I looked around with panicked eyes. I could faintly hear Marc saying something about keys before the couple that had been standing nearby took off down the hallway. My attention was drawn back to the door, convinced I heard a light thump against it. I glanced at Marc, and he nodded. He heard it too. Before I even realized what I was doing, my shoulder began knocking against the hard metal as I continued to yell for Kat to unlock it. The door did not budge. Realizing that it was pointless to continue, I stepped back, allowing my eyes to scan the area for anyone who could possibly help. There was no one else around.

I could feel the panic setting in, worried that Alec might be doing something to hurt her. Given the way he looked at us as he left the staging area toward the end of the show, I couldn’t help thinking the worst.

The sound of the knob jiggling brought my attention back to the door. I reached out, twisting to find that it was now unlocked. As I pushed it open, I was briefly met by Alec’s surprised face before my focus shifted to Kat, clawing at his hands clasped tightly around her neck. Her eyes were wide in panic as she gasped for air. I reacted on instinct, determined to keep her safe as I threw myself at him. I had never in my life wanted to cause anyone bodily harm, but at that moment I was out for blood.

Kat’s POV

I could feel the fight in me fading as Alec’s hands tightened around my throat. I was near blacking out when I heard Dieter knocking at the door. Hearing his voice and knowing that he was trying to get to me ignited a new burst of adrenaline. I tried to call out to him but couldn’t get any sound to come out. Alec seemed unfazed by the fact that someone was at the door. His focus was on my face, stoic and unblinking. I tried kneeing him in the groin, but once he realized what I was doing, he somehow maneuvered himself between my thighs so that I couldn’t.

I was so afraid Dieter would leave, thinking I wasn’t in here. So, I changed tactics, kicking at the door with my heel while trying to relieve some of the pressure around my neck with my hands. I could feel myself fading again as Alec regained his tight grip. I could hear Dieter trying to open the door. I was torn between not wanting him to find me like this and praying he got the door open. I knew he would lose it on Alec if he saw this.

I somehow found the strength to twist in Alec’s grip, which allowed me to forcefully connect an elbow with the side of his face. The shock of it caused him to release his hold just enough that I was able to reach the door handle to my left and unlock it. Alec didn’t realize what I had done until he was face-to-face with a very angry Dieter Bravo.

Dieter had Alec on the floor in the blink of an eye, shoving him off of me then giving a quick jab to the throat before pinning Alec down as he gasped for air. Marc and his partner followed Dieter into the room. They immediately came to my aid as I rubbed at the stinging and throbbing around my neck, fighting back tears as I inhaled deeply to catch my breath.

I pushed them away, moving toward Dieter. I attempted to plead for him to stop, but I couldn’t get any sound out. My throat felt raw through my feeble attempts. I pushed Marc toward them, begging him to do something. I couldn’t let Dieter get in trouble over this asshole.

It all happened so fast as Dieter got a few solid punches in before wrapping his hands around Alec’s throat as he cursed the man underneath him. I never would have imagined Dieter was capable of such a reaction, but it made me realize the lengths he would go to in order to protect those he cares about. The crazed look in his eyes probably should have scared me, but it didn’t. All I could think of doing was protecting him.

Even though Dieter was a lot bigger than Marc, Marc somehow managed to pull him off Alec before he took it too far. Alec scrambled to his feet, fear briefly flashing on his face before he collected himself and gave us both a sneer as he wiped at his bloody lips. “See, I knew you were lying to me,” he said with an accusatory tone.

Dieter opened his mouth to speak as Marc continued to hold him back. I stepped forward, placing my hand on his shoulder, silencing him and causing his attention to focus on me.

I met Alec’s glare, “I told you there was nothing going on between us. Why can’t you just accept the fact that you’re the one who fucked up?”

Alec smirked, “Was? There was nothing…but there is now? Right?”

When I didn’t answer, he nodded then scoffed out a laugh. “You may not have acted on it, but you were attracted to him. You were thinking about it. You were all too happy to get rid of me the first chance you got.”

I could feel the anger flaring in my chest, feeling defiant against his accusations. “The moment that I walked in on you fucking Lana was the moment you lost the right to know anything about me. It’s none of your damn business. I told you I didn’t do anything, and I know I didn’t do anything wrong. That’s all that matters to me. You can spout off whatever bullshit about us that you want, I don’t care anymore. Everyone knows you’re the one who cheated anyway. You can thank the paparazzi for that.”

I could see in Alec’s eyes the exact moment he realized he didn’t have control over me anymore. This whole encounter had been a serious wakeup call and blow to his ego. He was scared of Dieter and now he was scared of me. I knew the real him and I was no longer afraid to expose him for what he was - an abusive narcissist. The perfect public image that he had worked so hard to cultivate and maintain was crumbling around him, and he was the cause of it.

Alec turned to leave, but Dieter’s voice stopped him. “If you ever lay another hand on her, I will fucking end you. You hear me?”

Alec smirked as he turned to face Dieter, putting on that cocky persona that he used as a defense mechanism, “Are you threatening me, Bravo?”

Dieter let out a menacing chuckle, “No, it’s a promise. I’m not fucking around with you anymore.”

Alec’s smile faltered. He had been expecting Dieter to backtrack on that statement. He nodded, pursing his lips, “I’ll keep that in mind.” He wiped at his bloody face as he turned to leave.

Once Alec was out of sight, Marc finally released Dieter. Dieter’s hands immediately reached toward me to survey the damage. I winced as his fingertips gently grazed my neck, “Kat, you need to call the police and report this.”

I pulled his hand away, shaking my head gingerly. “No. If I do that, it’ll be all over the gossip sites and news tomorrow morning. That stuff is public record. I can’t handle that right now.”

Dieter huffed in exasperation, “What if he does this again? This is the second time I’ve witnessed it, and this time was way worse.”

Marc stepped forward, “I agree with Dieter. I’ll be happy to give a statement…Alec was out of line.”

I shook my head again, “No. Dieter, I…” I paused, not knowing what to say. I knew he wasn’t going to be concerned about himself. “Dieter, I don’t want you to get into trouble. He may retaliate by pressing charges against you or something…it’ll turn into a whole thing. I’m not gonna let him ruin your reputation when you’ve been working so hard to fix it.”

I could tell Dieter was getting frustrated as he ran his hands down his face, “I don’t care about that. I was protecting you… this is on him.”

I sighed, “I know you were, and I’m thankful you came to me…but that won’t matter. The headlines will be that you assaulted someone. That’s all people will see.”

I grabbed his hands as I peered up at him, “He’s not gonna do it again. You scared the hell out of him tonight. I could see it. Also, there are two witnesses besides us. He’s fucked and he knows it. Let’s just…deal with it my way? Ok? Please.”

For the first time, my attention shifted to Stefanie as she moved to close the door.

“Sorry, there’s a bit of a crowd forming out there. Everyone must finally be making their way down here from the ballroom.”

Now that I had a moment to think, I didn’t know why Marc and Stefanie were here.

“Dieter, how did you know he was in here?” I asked.

Stefanie meekly raised her hand, “I told him. I saw Alec as you were closing the door. He seemed…off. Marc felt like we needed to get Dieter, so we did.”

“Why did you feel like you needed to get Dieter?” I asked Marc.

He shrugged, thinking through his next words before he spoke. “You two seem…close. I figured he would know if it was something to be worried about or not.”

Close? Fuck. Were we really that obvious? I puffed air out of my cheeks before walking over to Stefanie and pulling her into a hug, “Thank you for noticing something wasn’t right. I don’t know how that would have gone otherwise.”

I turned to Marc, thanking him as well before asking. “If you guys don’t mind, please keep the details of this between us for now?”

They both nodded. “Out of everyone on the cast, we’re probably the only ones you can trust. We won’t say anything.” Marc replied.

“What if Stacia and Joe ask us about it?” Stefanie questioned.

I sighed, “If they do, tell them what you saw…and I’ll handle the rest.”

I glanced over at Dieter as he sank down into a chair, placing his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands. I could tell he wasn’t handling this well. I looked back to Stefanie and Marc, “Would you guys mind giving us some privacy?”

They both looked in Dieter’s direction with a sympathetic expression before nodding and moving to exit. Before I closed the door behind them, Marc turned to me. “Kat…let us know if you guys need anything, yeah? Doesn’t matter what it is.”

I nodded, “I will, thank you.”

After closing and locking the door, I moved to stand in front of Dieter. I had to nearly pry his hands from his face, but even then he still wouldn't look at me. I crowded his space, forcing him to lean back in the seat as I hiked my dress up to straddle him. He was still avoiding my eyes as I reached for him, cupping his cheeks to angle his head upward so I could look at him. His eyes were pooling with tears as his jaw flexed under my hands. He looked broken. It was almost enough to shatter the facade I was trying so hard to maintain for his sake.

“Talk to me. What’s wrong?” I finally asked.

He shook his head, pulling my hands from his cheeks.

“Dieter, don’t push me out. Please.”

He took a deep breath, looking anywhere but at me. “I…just…I thought something bad happened. I was scared that you were hurt…and I couldn’t get to you. Then I…just sort of lost it when I saw what he was doing to you. I’m sorry. I’ve never…I’m not like that. I don’t want you to think I’m like that. I’m not a violent person…”

The more he spoke, the more distressed he seemed. My hands found their way back to his cheeks as I tried to sooth him, “Hey, it’s ok. I know you’re not like that. You were protecting me. I would’ve done the same for you.”

That seemed to help him relax some as he leaned into my touch. His arms slid around my waist, pulling me closer, “I’m sorry, just ignore me. I think what happened is starting to hit me…are you really OK? Do you need to go to get checked out? I can take you if…”

My hands slid down to rest on the sides of his neck as my thumbs rubbed against his scruffy jawline, “No, I’m fine. I promise. You got to me before he did any real damage.”

He leaned back some for a better view as his hand reached to push the hair away from my neck. His brow furrowed. I could see his eyes flash with anger and pain.

“You’re probably gonna have bruises.”

I shrugged and sighed, “Not the first time…”

His lips set into a tight line before he pulled me in for a firm embrace, nuzzling his scratchy beard against the exposed skin on my chest. I hugged him against me, aching to run my fingers through his hair, but the copious amounts of hair gel made that impossible. I settled for rubbing just below his hairline on the back of his neck instead.

He seemed vulnerable, but I didn’t really understand why. I needed him to understand that I didn’t think he did anything wrong. I leaned down and placed a kiss on the top of his head, “Thank you…for looking out for me. I’m not sure I’d have the strength to get him out of my life without you.”

He shifted so that he could look up at me with a sad smile, “Thank you for letting me.”

A lump formed in my throat as I returned his smile, then leaned down to capture his lips with mine. It was a languid kiss, full of emotion and need, yet somehow not sexual at all. It was comforting and everything we both needed to ground ourselves after the ordeal we had just gone through.

We were distracted by a knock on the door. It was one of the assistants from the costume department. “Kat, we still need your costume,” she called through the door, clearly unaware of the drama that had just unfolded.

I huffed as Dieter’s hands rubbed up and down my sides, “Yeah, give me a few minutes.” I called back.

My eyes focused on him, “You better go get changed too. They’ll be after you next.”

He rolled his eyes, lifting me with him as he stood.

“Lock the door behind me, please. I’ll be back after I’m done.”

I nodded and did as he asked, taking a deep breath to calm my nerves as I turned the lock. It was taking everything in me not to fall apart. The urge to burst into tears had been steadily growing since Alec left the room, but I had somehow managed to ward them off. I couldn’t fall apart here. I needed to wait until I got home. I wanted nothing more than to go home with Dieter and let him soothe all the bad feelings away, but I knew I needed to spend some time alone to process what happened. I needed time to myself to feel it and work through it. I didn’t want Dieter to see me like that. I worried it would be too much for him.

I moved around the room, almost on autopilot, changing out of my costume and putting it into the garment bag. Just as I was pulling my shirt over my head, Dieter was back, knocking at the door. I grabbed the garment bag as I went to unlock the door for him, hanging it on the hook just outside for pickup before turning to grab my things so we could leave.

“Did you still wanna grab some dinner? Maybe we get something to go?” he asked.

I sighed, “I think I’m actually just gonna go home.”

I could see the panic in his eyes. He thought I didn’t want to be around him. I looped my hand around his bicep and gave it a reassuring squeeze as we walked toward the exit to the parking lot. “I feel like doing a cleansing. I actually wanna go home and pack up all Alec’s shit so I can be done with him, for good. Especially after tonight. It’s something I need to do.”

He nodded, seeming to understand, but he still looked like a wounded puppy.

“How about we do dinner at your place tomorrow after rehearsal?” I asked. We hadn’t really gotten to spend any quality time together since coming back from New York. I wanted to, just not tonight.

He seemed to perk up a bit and chuckled, “Are you volunteering me to cook for you?”

I shrugged, “I mean…I would never turn down one of your homemade meals, but I would settle for takeout if you didn’t feel like it. I really just wanna spend some non-dance time with you and see Zee again too, of course.”

That elicited a big smile from him as he held the door open for me. “I won’t argue with that,” he finally said.

When we reached my vehicle, he opened the door, standing with it between us.

“Lemme know when you get home, please?”

I nodded, wanting nothing more than to kiss him, but I knew eyes could be anywhere.

“And call me if you need anything. I don’t care what or when…I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

I chuckled, “It would take at least thirty.”

He shook his head and laughed, “Nope, fifteen.”

I rolled my eyes as I sat down in the driver’s seat, “I’ll see you at the production meeting in the morning. Go get some rest. I expect there’ll be a full interrogation.”

He huffed in annoyance as he reached down to hit the lock button on the door, then smiled, pushing the door shut as he said “Good night, Kit Kat.” The smile didn’t reach his eyes.

I suddenly felt torn. Maybe we did need to be together tonight. I shook the thought away as I moved to start the car, deciding to continue on with my plan.

When I got home, I sent Dieter a quick text to let him know I was locked in. I settled on heating up a can of soup for dinner, given that my throat was not feeling the greatest. I actually found the warmth from it to be somewhat soothing as I took a quick inventory of how much of Alec’s stuff was actually at my place and hoped that the stash of Amazon boxes that I hadn’t put out for trash pickup would be enough to pack it all.

I worked in anger for hours, going through the house shoving things in boxes without any organization or order, muttering that he should consider himself lucky that I wasn’t just throwing it all out on the lawn and burning it like I wanted to. I couldn’t understand how it had come to this. I knew he had a darker side, but I never could have imagined that he would take it this far. I was almost certain that if we had been anywhere else that he couldn’t have been interrupted, he might not have stopped. The dead-eyed stare as his fingers tightened around my throat scared the hell out of me. His intent was to hurt me. There was no question about it.

As I was rummaging around behind the clothes hanging in my closet, I bumped against my guitar case that was hidden behind everything. It fell over with a thud, causing a low thrumming of the strings, which was muted by the case. The sight of the instrument instantly had my stomach in knots. I hadn’t taken it out of the case since Alec and I first started dating six years ago. He had only seen me play it twice and that was all it took for me to never play in front of him again. His critical commentary made me feel inadequate under his gaze. It made me self-conscious and took the fun out of something that was once my refuge. Which was sort of ridiculous because Alec didn’t know the first thing about playing or music. He always had terrible taste. I really think what it came down to is that it was something that could take attention away from him. That probably should have been my first hint that he was not for me.

After taking a few deep breaths, I laid the case flat on the floor and opened it. The vintage Gibson Hummingbird looked exactly as it had last time I laid eyes on it. Untouched by time and dust. I reached out, running my fingertips over the glossy black mahogany edges and classic light wood tone sunburst along the lower bout. The memory of the day my father gave it to me came rushing back. He had found it dirt cheap at a yard sale of all places and was beyond excited to give it to me. The memories of the times we played together seemed so long ago, but they were just as vivid as if it were yesterday. Then there was the memory of playing with Dieter at his house. I realized it had felt the same playing with him, freeing almost.

My fingers trailed up to the hummingbird motif engraved into the pickguard. It was my favorite part because it reminded me of my mom. Hummingbirds were always her favorite and I loved having a little piece of her with me after she died. I reached to pick it up, watching the mother of pearl inlay on the fingerboard reflect in the light as I twisted it to set in my lap. My fingers strummed along the strings and moved along the frets, getting reacquainted with my old friend.

Without even realizing, I began to strum out the chords of the song Dieter and I had sung together that night at his house, Scars on this Guitar. It felt fitting as I began to hum along. A calmness washed over me as I played. It was like I had found myself again. It was almost overwhelming as the tears suddenly flooded out of my eyes without warning. They weren’t sad tears. It was more from relief than anything.

I was soon distracted by my phone chiming with a text message. After wiping my face, I dug it out of the pocket of my sweatpants to find a text from Dieter.

Dieter: I’m totally going to be a needy bitch and ask if I can call you before I fall asleep? Please. 🥺

I chuckled, loving the fact that he didn’t take himself seriously and always said whatever he was feeling.

Me: Of course you can. And I like it when you’re a needy bitch. 😏

I knew what he was doing. He wanted to check on me and I couldn’t even be upset about it.

Moments later, my phone rang with an incoming FaceTime call. I huffed out a quiet “fuck” before wiping at my face some more. I hadn’t realized this would be a video call. I hoped he couldn’t tell that I had been crying. When I answered, I was met with flashes of light and fur. I could hear Dieter muttering, “What the fuck, Zee?” I couldn’t help laughing as the video shifted around to finally show most of his face. His chin and neck were covered by cat fur. He looked annoyed, “Heey honey, sorry. Zee decided she wanted to jump on my face just as soon as I hit the call button.”

I felt a rush of heat go through me at his words. I know I give him hell over the pet names, but now that I didn’t have Alec to worry about, I actually loved hearing him call me those things.

I laughed, watching as he held the phone further away so I could see Zee lying sprawled out and wallowing on her back on top of his bare chest. She was rubbing her face against the scruff of his chin. It was the cutest and hottest thing I’d ever seen.

I snickered, “It’s ok Zee, I get it. I like to rub against his face too.”

Dieter snorted as he angled the phone back toward his face, “Well that wasn’t how I expected this conversation to start.”

I laughed, holding the phone further away at a lower angle, hoping he couldn’t see my red eyes.

He suddenly turned a little more serious as he stared into the camera, “I just wanted to check in, make sure you were doing ok…after everything today.”

I cleared my throat, “Yeah…I’m good. Just finished packing up his shit…so I feel a lot better now. I’ll text his brother to come get it off the porch tomorrow, so I don’t have to deal with him.”

Dieter pursed his lips. I could tell he wanted to say something but was holding back.

“What is it?” I asked.

He sighed, “Are you sure you don’t wanna go to the police?”

I puffed air out of my cheeks, “Yeah…I’m sure. I really don’t think he’s gonna try anything again. I’m pretty sure he’s terrified of getting his ass kicked now.”

Dieter chuckled, “Who said anything about an ass kicking? I’ll make him disappear if it happens again.”

I smiled, “I’ll help you hide the body.”

He laughed loudly, causing Zee to reach up and cover his mouth with her paw. He grabbed it, placing a small kiss on her little toe beans before murmuring a quiet, “Sorry, baby girl” into the fur on the top of her head. I really could have melted over how sweet he was with her.

He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment as he looked off in the distance. His eyes eventually turned back to the camera. He seemed nervous.

“I feel like I need to apologize for how I acted. I lost control and let my emotions take over. I really don’t want you to think that’s normal behavior for me, because it’s not. I-I don’t do shit like that. Ever.”

I could tell this was getting to him. The pain and desperation breaking through in his voice caused my eyes to prickle with tears again. I hated seeing him upset.

“Dieter, it’s ok. I know you’re not like him…if that’s what you’re worried about. I know you would never do that to me.”

He appeared to relax some, but still seemed on edge. I suddenly felt selfish. I should have gone home with him tonight. He would never admit it, but it felt like this went deeper than what happened with Alec. I couldn’t help wondering if today’s events were causing something from his past to come to the surface. I wanted to ask, but that didn’t seem like a conversation to have over the phone. I suddenly felt the need to reassure him.

We were quiet for a beat, but I finally broke the silence, “I can’t wait to spend some time with you tomorrow. I’m sort of kicking myself for not coming over tonight.”

He gave me a soft smile, “The night’s not over…and my bed is always open…though you may have to fight Zee for a spot.”

I tucked my bottom lip between my teeth, seriously considering his offer. “What time is it?”

His head leaned up slightly, I assume to check the time, “A little after ten.”

Huffing out a sigh, I replied, “I better not. It’s already late and we have to be at the studio early.”

His eyes told me he disappointed, but he still smiled into the camera, “You want to though.”

I groaned out a whiney “yeeees”, shifting to uncross my legs from where I still sat on the floor of my closet and sliding the guitar to the floor causing a slight hum from the strings.

Dieter chuckled as a confused look formed on his face, “Where are you?”

I laughed, “Sitting on my closet floor…I…” I paused, wondering if I should tell him what I had been doing. His brows arched, waiting for me to continue. “I uhh, came across my guitar while I was looking for all Alec’s junk to pack up. I-I took it out of the case for the first time in years…”

I looked away from the phone as I felt my eyes prickling again. Fuck. Why is this making me emotional?

“Is that why you’ve been crying?” Dieter asked.

My eyes darted back to the phone, “You could tell? And you didn’t say anything?”

He shrugged, “I know you’re dealing with stuff. I don’t expect you to tell me and I don’t wanna pry. I know you’ll talk when you’re ready.”

I had to appreciate his patience with me. I never would have guessed that would be something he would so willingly give without me asking.

I smiled, “Yes, that’s why I was crying. Honestly, playing with you a few weeks ago made me realize how much I missed it…and playing just now was such a fucking relief. I sort of feel like I found one of my missing pieces…ya know what I mean?”

Dieter’s brows furrowed as his lips set into a tight line. He had a strange look in his eyes as he cleared his throat, “Yeah, I know exactly what you mean.”

I suddenly had butterflies in my stomach, feeling like his words had a deeper meaning that I couldn’t quite figure out.

He rubbed at his face, “Well, we should probably get to bed. The sooner we fall asleep, the sooner I can be with you tomorrow.”

I laughed, “Yeah. You’re right. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He gave me a small smile, “Night, Kit Kat.”

We both lingered in silence for a few seconds longer than necessary before disconnecting the call. My feelings for him were growing. There was no denying it. It scared me a little as I reminded myself that it was like this with Alec once. I didn’t see his red flags in the beginning. What if I was missing them with Dieter? I had to shake that thought away. It was ridiculous. I was just psyching myself out. Dieter had already proven ten times over that he was a good person and that he cared about me.

After pulling myself up out of the floor and giving a full body stretch to loosen up my stiff and aching joints, I got ready for bed and settled into a restless sleep.

Dieter and I both arrived at Television City Studios earlier than necessary. He was already in the lobby waiting with coffee when I walked in. He didn’t have to say why he was so early because I knew it was the same reason I was there early, I wanted to see him.

He stood when I approached, his gaze immediately focusing on my neck as he reached to brush my hair away from it. His questioning eyes shifted to mine as his thumb grazed down the side of my throat.

“I’m ok. It’s not that bad. I was able to cover it with makeup,” I said in response.

He sighed heavily. I could see the anger flashing in his eyes as he pulled away to rub at the back of his neck when an intern walked by. My eyes were drawn to his hand. I could see slight bruising around the knuckles, but it didn’t seem too bad. Not as bad as last time anyway.

“You didn’t tell me you were hurt,” I said.

He glanced at his knuckles, “It’s nothing…not even sore. Should’ve hit him harder.”

“Keep that out of sight while we’re meeting with them. If they ask…as far as they’re concerned, I hit him. You only pushed him off, got it?”

He huffed, then shook his head, “You don’t have to lie for me…”

I shrugged, “It’s not a lie. I did hit him.”

Dieter’s brows knitted together, “You did?”

I nodded, “Yeah, how do you think I got the door unlocked? I elbowed him in the face.”

He smiled, suddenly looking proud. “I don’t condone violence, but I’m kind of happy you did that. He deserved it.”

We moved to sit in the chairs next to each other, trying our best to keep our hands to ourselves as we waited. It wasn’t long before a PA came to get us for the meeting. When we entered the conference room, Stacia and Joe were waiting. They both had a stony expression on their faces and only nodded in greeting. Fuck. They know.

After we got situated in our seats, I felt Dieter’s leg rest against mine under the table. He could sense the tension too.

Joe crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat as Stacia eyed us with pursed lips. She seemed to be weighing how to start this conversation.

“So, it looks like things went well in New York. Did you two have a good time?”

Small talk. Really? Dieter and I glanced at each other with confusion. “Yeah, I mean it was busy as fuck, but we had fun,” Dieter answered.

“The footage you took was great by the way…and so were your social media posts. The fans ate it up,” Joe said.

“Did you guys take the time to do anything fun? I saw the open mic night video…” Stacia interjected.

There it is. Dieter gave a tight smile as he looked between them, “Not really. We stayed pretty busy with rehearsals for this and SNL. We barely had time to eat and sleep.”

Stacia gave us a disbelieving look, “But you did open mic night?”

Dieter shrugged, “The SNL cast invited us out for dinner that night. We sort of got roped into it.”

Stacia pursed her lips and nodded before asking, “Where did you rehearse? The hotel said you didn’t use the rented space.”

Dieter and I both grimaced before he answered, “Yeah, sorry. There was a large outdoor terrace with our suite. We just used that. It was more convenient with our crazy hours.”

She gave a tight smile in return, “Well, I’m happy the suite worked out so well for you two then.”

She sighed, the vibe shifting as she leaned back into her seat and rubbed at her temples, “Kat, we need to talk about what happened last night with Alec…I wanna hear your side of it before we do anything.”

I puffed air out of my cheeks, “What did he say happened?”

She shook her head, “No. I want you to tell me your version of what happened first.” My version. So that’s how this is gonna go. Great.

I took a controlled breath, the last thing I needed to do was lose it on them.

“After the show, I went to my dressing room. He was there waiting for me. When I walked in, he grabbed me from behind, shoved me up against the wall, mouthed off for a minute, then started choking me. By that point, Marc and Stefanie had gone to get Dieter. He was trying to get in, but Alec had locked the door. I managed to elbow Alec in the face and he let go long enough for me to unlock it. Dieter came in and pulled him off me.”

Her eyes shifted between me and Dieter, “So, Dieter didn’t attack him?”

I shrugged, “He pushed Alec away from me and then Alec fell to the floor.”

She was quiet for a beat, studying us. “Alec says that Dieter found you two alone…talking, and then attacked him.”

I let out a disbelieving laugh. Anything to make himself look better. Then it occurred to me, maybe he didn’t realize how much Marc and Stefanie had actually seen. He only saw Marc pulling Dieter off of him. What a fucking dumbass.

“Well, that’s a lie. Dieter was protecting me. Alec attacked me.”

Stacia’s eyes narrowed as they shifted between us, “I need for you to tell me what’s going on between the three of you so we can figure out how to move forward. Did you cheat on him with Dieter? What’s the deal? Why’s he mad enough to attack you? Make it make sense.”

Bitch. She’s one hundred percent fishing for information. I felt Dieter nudge my leg under the table. I pressed mine against his as I leaned forward.

“Not that it’s any of your fucking business, but no, I didn’t cheat on him. He cheated on me. With Lana. He's pissed because I’ve run out of chances to give and I’m standing up for myself. I’m done and he can’t accept it. He’s trying to make us out to be the bad guys…to make himself feel better and it’s not working in his favor because we haven’t done anything wrong.”

I could see Stacia’s jaw clench as she digested my explanation. I purposefully didn’t address mine and Dieter’s current relationship status. I could tell that she was trying to work out how to get that question answered without asking again. Joe sighed heavily beside her and shook his head as he leaned forward to speak.

“Look, I pulled the security footage. Where the camera is in the hallway…I couldn’t see everything. I could see that he went to your dressing room and waited for you, and I could see how Marc and Stefanie reacted after you went inside and how Dieter was reacting after they went and got him. Their story matches yours, so I’m inclined to believe that Alec is lying. That’s grounds to remove him from the cast…”

I interrupted him, “No. Don’t. Let him stay.”

I could feel Dieter’s shocked eyes on me as I continued, “When we win, I want it to be because we beat him, not because he got kicked off. All that I ask is that you have security nearby when we’re all here. Make it known to him that you know what happened and the only reason he’s still here is because of my grace and because I wanna crush his fucking ego by winning the competition with Dieter.”

Joe moved to speak but I cut him off by holding up my hand, “I’m not done. My other request is that you both stop your fucking meddling. This is partially your fault too. You were trying your hardest to manufacturer drama for this season and you fucking got it. You wanted your cast romance, now you got that with Alec and Lana…so leave us alone.”

Stacia suddenly looked hurt by my words as she spoke up, “Kat, we had no idea this would happen, we couldn’t have. You can’t blame us for this.”

I scoffed, “No, but you hoped something…would happen.”

She sighed, “Look, I knew Alec was sort of an asshole, but I never would have thought he would attack you. You didn’t deserve it…and I am sorry if we created the conditions for it. It wasn’t the intention.”

Her apology almost seemed genuine, until she opened her mouth again.

“You and Dieter are the fan favorites right now. Our ratings are up because people wanna see you two together…and you guys have become close friends. I can’t apologize for our decision to partner you up or for our focus on you. I still think it was the right thing to do, and I stand by that.”

“Oh no, I’m happy you put Dieter and I together. It's the intentions behind your choices that are the problem…just so we’re clear.”

Stacia and I locked eyes. I could tell she wanted to say more, but she was cut off by Joe, who seemed to be handling this more sensibly.

“Well, given that you don’t want us to let Alec go, I do think we need to make some changes. During the professional performances, if you need to partner up, you’ll be working with Marc from now on. He didn’t like working with Anika anyway. And maybe we split the professionals up into two troupes so we can keep you guys apart as much as possible. I’m sure Emily can make that work with the choreography somehow.”

Joe rattled on about some other precautions he wanted to put into place for a bit longer, then they finally let that topic drop and got back to business. Stacia pulled out the sketches for this week’s costumes. They had me in a short lacy black dress with a low back and long sleeves. It left little to the imagination, but I was used to that. So, I gave a quick nod of approval. They had Dieter in simple black pants and a black long sleeve button up dress shirt.

Stacia seemed a little more reserved than normal as she went over the details. Our earlier conversation had obviously struck some sort of nerve with her.

“This week we have you two doing the Argentine Tango to the song You Put A Spell On Me.”

Joe smiled smugly, “That should be an interesting one. Can’t wait to see what you two come up with.”

Based on his reaction to it, I assumed this wasn’t the same song that I was familiar with. He seemed too giddy about it. I glanced over at Dieter. His brows were slightly furrowed. He seemed just as intrigued as I was. We were done soon after that, not wanting to hang around any longer than we had to.

After grabbing a quick lunch at the small Greek diner at Dieter’s suggestion, we made our way to the dance studio to begin rehearsals for the week. We started like we always did, by cueing up our song. Both of us sat sprawled out on the floor as the sultry notes greeted us. I suddenly felt hot as my skin prickled from the music. It was beyond sexy and had my mind racing with ideas that were not meant for a public performance.

Dieter and I sat listening, wide-eyed as we fully took in the lyrics. Once the song ended, his brows pinched together as he pursed his lips. I could already tell he had some sort of sarcastic comment brewing.

“So…,” he finally said with a look of confusion, “Do they just want us to have sex on the dance floor? Because I feel like they want us to have sex on the dance floor. They’re just asking for it at this point…Which is not very family friendly of them...”

I chuckled. He wasn’t wrong. It was a very sexual song.

“How spicy are we allowed to be? I feel like we should push the limits of what’s acceptable just to be obnoxious and because they won’t expect it,” he added.

Honestly, the thought of it was sort of thrilling. I had never taken that route with a performance on the show before. Doing it with Dieter made it seem even more tantalizing because I knew it would piss Alec off and get people’s attention.

“Well…there have been some pretty racy performances in the past, so it’s not out of the question.”

Dieter giggled, “Let’s just see how many different ways we can act out the lyrics.”

I snorted, “Act out the lyrics? Really? You want me to undress you on the dance floor?”

He scratched at his scruff as he smirked, “Why not? You are a pro at getting me naked.”

I felt heat creeping up my cheeks as I gave him an admonishing look, which caused him to let out one of his boisterous laughs.

I shook my head and rolled my eyes at him as he moved to stand. He then framed his arms up and began stomping back and forth dramatically in a stereotypical tango style dance, “Come on Kit Kat, let's get to it. Time to get nasty.”

I couldn’t help laughing at him. His playfulness always got to me. I loved that he now showed me this side of himself. Thinking back to our first week together, he never would have acted like this. He had opened up so much since then. I could feel my heart do a little flutter at the thought as I stood to join him.

I grabbed his hand, pulling him toward me so he would stop the ridiculous stomping thing he was doing. “First of all…this is an Argentine Tango, not an International Tango…or whatever it is you think you’re doing….”

He dropped his head and snorted out a laugh as I gave him a teasing smile.

“It’s not as stiff…doesn’t have the quick and decisive movements that most people associate with the tango. The hold is different, allowing for more freedom of expression so that the dance can be anything from slow and sensual to fast and strong. We’ll need to include intertwining leg combos and dynamic lifts. The judges will be looking for those.”

He was in full student mode now, listening intently and nodding along. I smiled, deciding to throw him a curve ball, suggestively running my fingers down his chest as I spoke.

“The best description I’ve ever heard that explains the difference in the two dances is that the International Tango is for dancing with your wife and the Argentine Tango is for dancing with your lover.”

He nodded as a wide smile spread across his face, “I’m pretty sure I can handle it given that we’ve nailed the horizontal tango already...”

I closed my eyes, biting my bottom lip to stifle a laugh. “I can’t win with you…” I finally managed to huff out. He gave me a smug smile and shrugged.

I continued on, still fighting a smile, “Anyway, let’s start with the hold then we can go through some gancho and staccato leg combos. I think that’ll probably be the hardest part for you to get. Then we’ll go from there.”

Once Dieter got the basics down, we began to build our routine. Both of us laughing and having more fun than we usually did. It seemed that our evolving relationship off the dance floor was changing the dynamic on it as well. The communication between us came easily now. So much of it being non-verbal. We just got each other. It was a true partnership full of trust and friendship on top of everything else that our relationship fostered. It almost seemed too perfect.

Dieter was flowing with ideas and more involved with planning the choreography than any of my past partners had ever been. I loved seeing his face light up when he had an idea and his excitement when he shared it. It made the process so much more enjoyable and made me feel closer to him somehow. His openness felt like a testament to his trust in me which I knew was a big deal for him.

We managed to plan out the majority of the routine before our studio time was up. We left feeling good about where we were. As provocative as the routine was, we did somehow manage to behave ourselves and keep it professional. That didn’t stop the heated glances from passing between us or the occasional lingering touches though.

By the time I was in the car and following Dieter to his house, I was feeling fairly worked up. The anticipation of having some alone time with him had butterflies forming in my stomach and wetness between my thighs. I couldn’t help wondering how the evening would go as we pulled into his driveway.

He wasted no time pulling me in for a passionate kiss after I stepped out of the car - one hand on my cheek as the other wrapped around my waist and pulled me against him.

He broke away with a relieved sigh and smiled, “I’ve been dying to do that all day.”

I chuckled at his enthusiasm as he turned and pulled me toward the door, never releasing his hold around my waist as he keyed into the house. The moment the door opened, we were greeted by Zee. Only then did he let go of me to bend down and pick her up.

Zee nuzzled her face against his beard as he cradled her to his chest, murmuring a quiet, “Hey baby girl, I’ve missed you today” into her fur as she began to purr. It made my heart melt to watch him with her. I never would have guessed that Dieter Bravo was capable of being this tender and sweet before getting to know him.

After snuggling her for a beat, he turned to me with a dimpled smile as he approached. Zee was now lazily leaning her head in my direction, letting out a soft meow as she gave me a slow blink. I didn’t hesitate to reach and scratch behind her ears. She stretched out on her back in his arms, reaching to place her paw on my face.

Dieter chuckled and stepped closer so she could rub her face against my chin as my hand stroked the long silky fur on her chest. There wasn’t a mat in sight. I smiled, “Looks like somebody is taking their cat grooming responsibilities seriously.”

Dieter's cheeks flushed as he shrugged, “Yeah…she likes it…and I’ve read it’s a good bonding activity. So, I don’t deny her when she wants her hair brushed.”

I snickered, “She’s got you wrapped around her little paw.”

He sighed slowly pulling Zee away and setting her down, “Yeah, it seems I’m a sucker when it comes to my two favorite ladies…Come on. I’ll get dinner started.”

He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the kitchen, “Hopefully Cora remembered to put the chicken in the marinade before she left. If not, we may have a problem.”

My brows knitted together, “Who’s Cora?”

He smiled, “She’s my housekeeper…a little spitfire of a lady. I think you’ll love her. I need to introduce you.”

I nodded, noticing the affectionate smile on his face as he talked about Cora. It made me curious about her, but I didn’t question him further.

I watched him rummage through the refrigerator before pulling out ingredients, including the marinated chicken. He got to work, refusing to let me help. When I tried, he leaned down and lifted me by my thighs and planted me on top of the island. After a quick peck on the lips, he told me not to move. My only job was to “watch the master at work.”

Zee soon joined me on the island, swishing her tail as she paced back and forth, attempting to lay eyes on what her dad was cooking. She shocked me by jumping across the distance between the island and Dieter’s back, landing on his shoulder with a loud meow as he laid out the chicken in a baking dish. He didn’t even flinch.

I snickered, “Based on your lack of a reaction, I take it this isn’t the first time she’s done that.”

He laughed and shook his head, “Nope. She’s a nosey little shit and thinks any sort of protein is for her. Especially chicken.”

Zee watched intently over his shoulder as he worked. She stayed perched there as he moved to the sink to wash his hands. Afterwards, he leaned down, allowing her to jump down onto the counter so he could put the chicken in the oven.

He turned toward me, moving to stand between my thighs as he rested his palms on the counter at my hips. His nose nudged against mine as he asked in a low voice that gave me goosebumps, “Would you rather have garlic and herb roasted potatoes or rice and cooked vegetables with your Greek Lemon Chicken?”

I smiled against his lips, “You’re making me Greek Lemon Chicken?”

He nodded, “I am…What can I say? I love spoiling my girls.”

My stomach felt topsy-turvy at his words. Hearing him say the word love in relation to me in any way had me feeling some kind of way. As he leaned in to kiss me, I felt tingly all over, realizing that I might actually be falling for him…hard. I had to beat back the small wave of panic I suddenly felt.

He pulled away with a playful smile, “Hopefully it doesn’t taste like shit. I’ve never made it before.”

I laughed nervously as a new wave of emotions hit me once I realized he was learning to cook Greek food for me.

“You’re trying Greek recipes for me, are ya?” I asked teasingly in an attempt to distract myself.

He nodded, “I am. Just doing what I can to keep ya around…for Zee’s sake, of course. She needs a woman in her life.”

I smiled even though my mind was racing with the implications of what he was saying. Was he feeling this as deeply as I was?

“Yeah, I’m sure it’s all for her,” I finally said with a chuckle.

He shook his head, smiling as he leaned in for another soft kiss before adding, “You’re right. It’s not. I’m one hundred percent whipped by you both.”

He paused, huffing out a laugh as he threaded his fingers through my hair and briefly allowed his eyes to roam over my face. After inhaling deeply, he asked, “Now, what does my other girl want to eat with her chicken?”

I took a moment to get lost in his chocolate colored eyes, taking in the crinkles around the edges from the small smile on his lips. I loved it when his eyes crinkled like that. That’s how I knew his smile was genuine.

“I think I’ll take the rice and veggies.”

His hands moved to my hips, squeezing gently as he gave me a quick peck on the forehead. He pulled away with a smile, “As you wish…Now, watch the culinary king create a masterpiece for your tastebuds.”

He got to work, chopping the veggies. Zee came over to inspect, seeming intrigued by the spread, but ultimately decided it wasn’t for her and went to entertain herself with a fake mouse toy on the floor.

Even though Dieter was occupied with his cooking duties, that didn’t make him any less attentive toward me. Conversation flowed and he made sure to continue his light touches and shared the occasional kiss as he moved around the kitchen. It was strangely romantic and intimate in a new way for me. I could see myself spending every evening like this with him. The fact that my mind was even going there scared me, worried that I was getting in too deep too fast. I somehow managed to bury that thought in the back of my mind each time he looked at me with his soft eyes and boyish smile.

Once the chicken was done, Zee turned into a little terrorist determined to get her share. I lost track of the number of times Dieter had to shoo her away while it was cooling. I couldn’t help laughing as those two had a near standoff over the cooked poultry. Because of Zee’s insistence, Dieter suggested that we eat on the patio since it had been such a nice day. That way we wouldn't have to deal with her “bratty” behavior. I agreed with a chuckle.

To keep her distracted, he made her dinner. She ate quietly in the corner as we made our plates and gathered everything we needed to move to the patio. Dieter made sure to hide the chicken away in the oven before we finally sat down to eat.

The meal was amazing of course and I made sure to tell him as much. He acted smug over the complement, but that didn’t stop his cheeks from flushing a little. We were both relaxed, discussing the most random topics and getting to know each other just a little bit more. It was nice to be with him like this for a change - to hear his laughter and see him truly happy.

After eating, Dieter insisted that I go relax while he cleaned up. He refused to have any other outcome. So, I made my way over to one of the loungers next to the fire pit and settled in. Dieter joined me a few minutes later, switching on the fire pit before reclining in the lounger beside me. He made a pouty face as he stuck out his arms, motioning for me to come sit with him. I chuckled as I stood, moving to sit between his spread thighs as he wrapped his arms around me and hugged me against his chest. He nuzzled his face into the crook of my neck, causing me to giggle from where his scruff tickled the sensitive skin.

We sat like that for a time, just listening to the waves of the ocean and enjoying being in each other's embrace. It felt so easy with him. Almost too easy, which was a little concerning if I dwelled on it. I pushed that thought away, twisting so that I could look up at him. He gave me a soft smile, his eyes crinkling as he looked down at me and reached to cup my cheek.

“I’ve missed being able to do this the last few days,” he finally said.

I smirked, closing the distance between us and sucking on his bottom lip. He deepened the kiss as I shifted in his arms, moving to straddle his hips as he set up straighter and pulled me against him. Just as I felt him growing hard under me, he pulled away, brushing the hair back out of my face as he peered up at me. His eyes danced around my face with a sort of serene expression.

“I don’t know that I’ve properly told you how fucking beautiful you are.”

I gave him a dismissive laugh as my cheeks burned under his palms. He leaned in, pressing his forehead to mine, “Stay with me tonight, please?”

His voice was almost pleading as he asked. Something about the way he sounded tugged at my heart a bit. I smiled against his lips as I dipped my hands under the hem of his shirt to explore his chest.

“I had already planned on it,” I replied before kissing him again. He didn’t deepen it. Instead, he pulled away and nuzzled his face into my chest as he hugged me just a little tighter, “Don’t get any ideas…I just wanna cuddle. No funny business.”

Something about his tone told me he wasn’t trying to be funny. He sounded serious, but I wasn’t sure. I scoffed jokingly, “How presumptuous of you.”

He was quiet for a beat, breathing me in. He finally pulled away with a smirk, “I’m just teasing. I do mean it though, I don’t wanna do anything tonight. I just wanna be with you.”

I gave him a confused look. Can’t say I’ve ever heard a guy say that before. He seemed unsure of himself suddenly, averting his gaze. I reached for his chin and tilted it toward me. “What’s this about?” I asked in a gentle tone. Something was obviously on his mind.

He sighed, “You’re probably gonna think I’m nuts…but…I don’t want this thing between us to just be about sex. I wanna spend time with you…get to know you…connect in other ways. You know what I mean? You’re too important to me for it to turn into that. I’m still learning how to do this relationship thing and I wanna do it right.”

I stared at him, a little dumbfounded and turned on by the fact that he didn’t want to have sex. What the hell is wrong with me?

He grimaced, “Please say something.”

I huffed out a laugh, “I…I’m trying really hard not to be turned on by this.”

He chuckled, “That wasn’t my goal, but I’ll take it as a positive response.”

I reached to run my fingers through his hair as I smiled over his smug look, “What planet did you come from?”

He laughed and shrugged, pulling me back against him, his ear to my chest as my fingers scratched at his scalp. He hummed at the feeling, leaning into me much like a needy puppy does when you scratch just the right spot.

Dieter was true to his word, not taking it any further even though I could tell parts of him wanted to. Instead, I ended up stretching out against him, cuddling as we watched the sunset and talked about the most random topics. There was lots of laughter, gentle kisses, and caresses throughout. It was refreshing. I couldn’t recall the last time Alec and I had spent time together like that, or if we ever really had. He was always so guarded about everything, which often left a lingering tension in the air between us. It never felt like that with Dieter. He had a way of making me feel at ease and content. He was always smiling and had such a playful and positive energy, it was hard not to match it.

As the hour grew late, we finally made our way inside. I watched as Dieter moved through the downstairs to lock up and turn everything off. His last step of his nightly routine was to give Zee a snack of boiled chicken. I watched as she jumped up on the island and patiently waited for him to pull it out of the refrigerator. The ‘Queen Zee’s Fucking Chicken’ label on the bowl caught my attention and made me snort in laughter as Dieter shredded small pieces and handed them over to her. When I asked what that was about, he shrugged and laughed, “Evan made that. Said something about her screaming at him over it. They’re both so dramatic, there’s no telling what actually went down.”

After he washed his hands, he walked over to stand in front of me, placing his hands on my hips as he pulled me against him with a mischievous glint in his eye. “You ready to go to bed?”

I quirked an eyebrow at him, feeling like he was up to something. “I need to run out to the car to get my bag.”

He pursed his lips, “Ehh, I’ll go get it for you in the morning.”

I smirked, “But what will I sleep in?”

He fought a smile, “You can raid my closet…or wear nothing. I’m not picky.”

I gave him an admonishing look, “I thought we were behaving?”

He shrugged as a wide grin formed on his face, “We are. Skin to skin cuddling for adults is a very healthy thing to do. It lowers cortisol levels and releases oxytocin. I fully support naked cuddling as a form of bonding.”

I chuckled, “You’re such a nerd, which is pleasantly surprising…and kind of a turn on…”

He laughed loudly, “Is there anything that isn’t a turn on for you today?”

I leaned in, smiling against his lips before answering, “Apparently not…”

After giving me a quick kiss, without warning, he leaned down and hoisted me over his shoulder like a fucking caveman. I squealed as he laughed maniacally and made his way up the stairs, grabbing a generous handful of my ass as he went. Once in his room, he sat me down, still laughing as I playfully pushed him away from me.

I turned to survey the room for the first time. It was the only room I hadn’t seen when he previously gave me a tour of his place. I wasn’t sure what I expected. It was similar to the rest of the house, clean with cream colored walls and bedding accented with deep earth tones. He had a few plants sitting around, my eyes automatically focusing in on the obnoxious penis cactus on one of his nightstands. I laughed and shook my head as I pointed at it, “Aren’t you worried about grabbing that thing by mistake when you’re half asleep?”

He chuckled, “No, I don’t usually put anything on that side of the bed…buuut since you’re here…I’ll move it…can’t have you gettin’ confused and grabbing the wrong erection.”

I cackled as I watched him move it from the nightstand to the dresser. I couldn’t help it. He had such a naughty sense of humor, and I loved it. Once he had it situated in just the right spot, he grabbed my hand and pulled me toward one of the other doors, which opened up to a massive bathroom. I couldn’t help admiring the tub. It looked heavenly. He followed my line of sight and chuckled, “I told you I had a hydrotherapy tub.”

“Well, it would be less weird if I took advantage of that now…obviously.”

I could hear him snicker as he rummaged around in the linen closet, then pulled out a new toothbrush and handed it to me.

I gave him a deadpan stare, “You tryin’ to tell me something?”

He laughed, “No! I just know you’re routine and I have extras.”

He pulled the toothpaste out of a drawer, put a dab on his brush then stuck it in his mouth. He passed the tube to me once I got the toothbrush out of the packaging. I watched him dig around in another drawer and pull out a hairbrush. It sort of shocked me when he moved to stand at my back and began running it through my hair, completely neglecting the toothbrush that was hanging from his mouth. After sitting the hairbrush down, his fingers got to work, struggling a bit at first, but eventually working the strands into a simple braid. Once he got to the bottom, he reached for my wrist with his free hand and pulled the hair tie off it to twist around the end of the braid. I watched in the mirror as he stood back and rather smugly admired his handy work as he began to brush his teeth.

After spitting some of the toothpaste out, I turned to him, “Are you trying to ruin me for all other men, Bravo?

He smirked, “No, not intentionally…but is it working?”

“The jury is still out on that…”

Once we finished brushing our teeth, I followed him into his closet, which was just as ridiculous as his bathroom.

“Fucking hell, this is bigger than my bedroom,” I said as I looked around. “Why do you need such a big closet? It’s not even one third of the way full,” I asked with a disbelieving laugh.

He shrugged, “I don’t, it just came with the house.” He pursed his lips in thought and gave me an odd look before adding, “Room to grow I guess.”

I felt like he was insinuating something, but I wasn’t sure. Instead, I rolled my eyes as I walked over to the stacks of folded t-shirts on a shelf. I could feel his eyes on me as I flipped through them, smiling over some of the funnier ones. Keeping my back to him, I reached for the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head. I could hear his breath hitch as I reached back to unhook my bra and allowed it to fall to the floor. I then slid my leggings down, standing there in nothing but my black underwear as I plucked one of his t-shirts from the stack and put it on.

When I turned toward him, he was standing there staring at me with his arms crossed and an amused expression on his face. I held my hands out with palms up, “Well, whatta ya think? Fits perfectly, no?”

He tucked his bottom lip between his teeth as he stared at me, hesitating before allowing his eyes to sweep down my body. He reached up and scratched at his chin, “Fucking is my cardio…really? That’s the one you went for?”

I laughed, looking down at the shirt, “I think maybe we need to update it…cross out ‘fucking’ and write in ‘dancing’ above it?”

He shook his head as he slowly walked toward me. His voice low, almost teasing, “Oh no, fucking is definitely still part of my cardio routine…though I don’t believe I’ve fucked you properly yet. I’ve taken a more…sensual approach so far…which I’ve found I actually kind of prefer.”

Our eyes were locked as he reached to cup my cheek, “Somehow you’ve managed to bring out that side of me for the first time ever…and I’m enjoying it more than I thought I could.”

His intense gaze, sultry tone, and sudden vulnerability had me involuntarily clenching my thighs together. The effect he had on my body was insane. I no longer had any control over it.

“Are you trying to test my limits right now? Because if you are, I’m very close to failing…”

He laughed as he leaned in to give me a chaste kiss, “Come on honey, let's get you in bed.”

I groaned in protest as he tugged me along behind him toward the bed. After pulling the covers back, he motioned for me to climb in, smacking my ass as I did so - which definitely didn’t do anything to help my current state of arousal. I settled in on my back as he stripped down to his boxer briefs, then turned off the light. After climbing into bed beside me, he tangled his legs with mine. His hand sought out the hem of his t-shirt that I was wearing, snaking up under it to rest around my middle after he pulled me closer to his chest. He nestled his face into the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply then sighing in contentment.

Moments later, the foot of the bed dipped as Zee jumped up onto it. Dieter sucked air through his teeth, “Oooh shit. We may have a problem here…”

I chuckled, “Why’s that?”

“You’re in her spot…”

“Oh, that is problematic…”

Zee made her way up the bed, then sat beside me as her tail whipped back and forth. I could feel her eyes on us as she surveyed the current sleeping arrangements. She let out a loud meow as I reached to pet her, hoping to keep peace. I felt Dieter suck in a deep breath and hold it while he waited to see how she would respond. She was still as a statue until I found just the right spot behind her ear. She leaned into the scratches as her eyes drifted shut. She seemed satisfied with my offering, finally moving to snuggle into the crook of my arm opposite Dieter.

Dieter huffed out a relieved laugh against my neck, “That was nerve wracking. I thought she was about to battle it out with you.”

I snickered, “Honestly, I thought so too. Good thing I'm comfortable because it doesn't look like I’m moving anytime soon…”

I felt his rumbling laugh against my neck as he shifted, leaning up to give me a chaste kiss goodnight. It wasn’t long before he was asleep, his mouth opened slightly as he snored quietly. Once my eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, I could just make out his features from the moonlight streaming in through the windows. His face looked almost childlike as the creases between his brows relaxed and disappeared. His messy curls hung down over his face, adding to the effect. I found myself wondering what he looked like when he was little, wondering if his aquiline nose had the same pronounced curve or if it developed that way over time. He really was beautiful, even with his patchy beard that never seemed to fully grow and slightly graying hair.

I took some time reflecting on the last several days. Dieter had been so attentive toward me, making sure that I was taken care of and always checking in about my feelings. He had also shown me his vulnerable side several times. I couldn’t believe that he was open about his fears with SNL, admitting how nervous he was the night of the performance. That was something Alec never would have done out of fear that he would look weak. This didn’t make Dieter seem weak to me though. If anything, it showed me how emotionally mature he was and his willingness to be open with me. He really surprised me with that.

Then there were the moments in his dressing room before the show when it was just us, laughing and enjoying each other’s company. Not being afraid to be ourselves out of fear of judgment. He was so unapologetically himself with me and I loved that about him. I loved that he trusted me enough to show his soft and goofy side. He appeared to be welcoming me into his life with open arms and holding nothing back.

I couldn’t help letting my mind wander to all of his past relationships, if that was even the right word. Maybe the term ‘hookups’ was more appropriate? I thought of that actress, Sophie, whatever her name was. A petite redhead with big breasts and a tiny waist. It was hard not to compare myself to her. We were completely different physically. Dieter had said that he wasn’t interested in her, but he had obviously been attracted to something about her at one point.

I wondered if maybe she was adventurous in bed, if that was the kind of thing he was into? I had never really been like that with anyone, which did worry me some. I couldn’t help thinking that he might eventually get bored with me because I clearly wasn’t like any of these people we had encountered that he had a history with. It didn’t mean that I couldn’t be that way though. There was something about him that made me want to try.

Dieter had a way of making me feel brazen. I could tell he liked it when I was like that, open about how my body reacted to him while teasing his. I enjoyed getting a rise out of him, which only emboldened me further. Maybe that’s all I really needed to hold his attention? To show him that he was wanted.

It wasn’t like it was hard for me to show how much I wanted him when he does the things that he does. Things like standing there on a nationally televised stage in his ridiculous ‘Plant Daddy’ t-shirt that I had bought for him that happened to fit just perfectly across his chest and snugly around his broad shoulders and sculpted arms as he asked me if I wanted to have sex with him. He was completely unconcerned that we were surrounded by dozens of people, mics, and cameras. Not to mention how he changed up that line in his monologue. He liked to push the limits too and he did it because he knew it got a rise out of me.

All of the teasing between us had turned into a mind-blowing evening once we got back to the hotel. He didn’t hesitate to let me take charge or to be open with me about his desires. There was no guessing with him, he was willing to show me what he liked while also allowing me to try my own thing without making me feel like I was doing something wrong. We worked together, exploring and learning each other's bodies and discovering new things about ourselves in the process.

Watching Dieter come undone beneath me felt empowering. It actually helped my confidence where it had been so brutally damaged by Alec, often making me feel like our less than satisfying sex life was my fault. Dieter helped me realize it wasn’t and allowed me to find that side of myself again. Seeing him writhing in pleasure because of me, watching his eyes dilate and blow wide as he took in my naked body, it unleashed something in me. Knowing that there was no way he could possibly fake the reaction his body was having to me as he gasped for air through clenched teeth and completely lost his senses should have been enough to calm the unsettling feeling that was suddenly creeping into my gut. It should have been enough to silence my doubts.

I reasoned with myself that any doubt I was having was because of Alec and the emotional damage he had caused. Dieter was not Alec. He was nothing like him. He made that perfectly clear when he found the vibrator then proceeded to use it as we had sex the following morning. He took his time, asking and learning how I liked it. Then blew my fucking mind. Again, showing me how attentive he was and making sure we both enjoyed the experience. Not at all selfish like Alec.

It wasn’t even really about the sex or the mind blowing orgasms he somehow managed to draw out of me. It went deeper than that. Through all of it, I could feel an emotional connection with him. It was strong enough that it made my heart feel like it was beating out of my chest. He was already bonding with me in ways that Alec never even tried to. If nothing else settled my doubts, then that should. He told me this meant something to him, and I knew he believed in what he said.

I also had to consider how protective Dieter had been, even before the dressing room incident. Going so far as to make sure my locks got changed so Alec couldn’t get into the house. He had also put himself between me and the paparazzi at the airport, essentially putting himself in the line of fire. He didn’t have to do any of that. It was obvious he cared about me, and I had no reason to doubt what we were building.

I now knew I was falling hard and fast for him, and it scared the hell out of me. I couldn’t help being worried about being hurt again, especially after what I had just gone through with Alec. I knew if something went wrong with Dieter, it was going to hurt ten times worse because things had been going so well between us. I knew I needed to stop thinking this way because I had no reason to. I was getting into my head about it. He cared about me and was putting in the work to prove it. That was enough.

As I glanced back down at his perfectly handsome face, my doubts vanished. He was here with me now, in his bed after asking me to stay. He’s allowing me into parts of his life no one else has been before. He wants me to be part of it.

Those were my last thoughts as I finally drifted off to sleep.

Dieter’s POV

On Wednesday morning I awoke to the feeling of Kat’s fingertips drawing circles on my bare skin. I could feel my heartbeat speed up under her touch, relishing in how amazing it felt to wake up to her wrapped around me in my bed. She was laying with her head against my chest and one leg hitched over mine. Zee had somehow managed to worm her way in between my spread legs and was sprawled out on her back, snoring softly.

I laid there unmoving as I took in the sight before me so that I could commit it to memory. I couldn’t remember ever waking up feeling as complete and happy as I did in that moment. It was something that I had longed for and didn’t even think possible. I felt like my life was finally beginning to turn into what I had always wanted. If this was going to be my new normal, I knew I could die a happy man.

Kat surprised me with a sleepy “good morning” as she continued to draw circles along my stomach.

I smiled, “How’d you know I was awake?”

She shifted, propping her chin on her hand to look at me with a smile, “You’re breathing changed…and I could hear your heart rate pick up.”

I chuckled as I reached to push away the loose strands of hair from her face. “I like waking up to you in my bed more than I realized I would,” I confessed.

She smiled as she leaned into my touch, “I liked waking up in your bed more than I realized I would, too.”

I sighed, “I can’t wait until we have a day off so we can stay here all day.”

“Hmmm that does sound amazing. Sign me up.”

I glanced over at the clock, realizing the alarm would be going off soon.

“Hows about I go make you a quick breakfast before you go to rehearsal?” I asked.

She groaned, “Ugh, I don’t wanna go. The whole cast is probably gonna be all weird and judgy now.”

My lips set into a tight line, “Is Alec supposed to be there?”

She shook her head, “No, I don’t think so. According to the schedule they sent over they have the two groups rehearsing at different times.”

“Well, that’s a relief. Doesn’t mean he won’t be lurking around though. Just please be careful. I still don’t trust that asshole.”

She smiled, “Don’t worry, Marc will be there. I’m sure he’ll keep an eye on me.”

I nodded, feigning a stern look, “He better.”

She laughed, “He will…don’t worry.”

I watched as her eyes explored my face before she asked, “So, what do you have planned this morning?”

I grimaced, “Well, I have an appointment with my therapist for what I’m sure will be a very interesting session. Her head may explode…”

“Ooof. Are you gonna tell her about us?”

My hand found the hem of the t-shirt she was still wearing and pulled it upwards so that I could run my fingers along her spine as I took a moment to think about it.

“Well, I know she’s gonna ask how New York went. She’s been very curious about our relationship from the beginning…”

Kat smirked, “Oh really? And why’s that?”

I chewed on my lip as heat crept into my cheeks. Oh well, no sense in hiding it now.

“Aside from the fact that I was actually building a friendship with someone new, I think she could sense that I was attracted to you. I did eventually fess up to it in one of our more recent sessions.”

Her smile widened, “You’ve been talking to your therapist about me this whole time?”

I swallowed thickly and nodded, “Yes. Does that bother you?”

She shook her head, “No…not at all. What does she say about me?”

I chuckled, “I’m pretty sure she’s a closet Deiterina Stan…”

Kat laughed loudly at that. I knew it would get her.

Once she settled, I continued, “I’m only half joking. She’s…actually been very positive and supportive of our friendship and encouraged me to tell you how I was feeling once I realized it. She thinks you’re a positive influence and good for me. I tend to agree with that assessment.”

Her brows furrowed as her eyes turned glassy. She pulled herself upwards to lean in closer for a needy kiss. I deepened it before she pulled away, slightly breathless as she smiled down at me.

“I’m actually happy she feels that way. I was a bit worried she would think it’s too soon for you to pursue anything.”

I hugged her tighter against me, “Na, I’m in a good place. Really. I’m nearly ten months sober. She’s been happy with my progress. Especially since I started the show…it’s kept me busy and gave me a little more purpose…and you.”

She smiled, leaning in for another kiss just as my alarm went off. That was Zee’s cue to get up, stretching her legs outward as she made her way up the bed to greet us while I turned to shut the alarm off. After a few minutes of kitty snuggles, we finally got out of bed. I ran to Kat’s car to get her bag out so she could get ready for the professionals morning rehearsal while I made us a quick breakfast of bacon, eggs, and toast. I was rinsing a small bowl of fruit off when she walked into the kitchen with a smile, coming up behind me to wrap her arms around my waist and giving me a peck on the cheek.

“Need help with anything?” she asked as she rested her chin against my shoulder.

I shook my head as I shut the water off, “Nope, just finishing up actually.”

When I turned around, I found Zee stealthily inching down the counter toward the plate of bacon. I sighed, shooing her away while muttering about her being nothing but a pain in the ass as Kat laughed. I then realized Kat was still wearing my ‘Fucking is my cardio’ t-shirt, only she had tied it into a knot in the back and added some leggings to go with it. Something about the thought of her wearing my clothes in public made my dick twitch.

I gave her a flirty smirk, “You’re here one night and you’re already stealing my clothes and wearing them in public.”

She shrugged, “You’ll get over it. Besides, if they want to stare and gossip during rehearsals, might as well give them something to look at. Maybe Someone will tell Alec that I suddenly have a proclivity for fucking.”

I snorted out a laugh. That certainly wasn’t the response I was expecting, but I fucking loved it.

“This might be a sign you’re spending too much time with me…but I’m not complaining. I also like the thought of you being in my clothes when I’m not around. It’s kind of sexy…”

She gave me a sly smile, “Good. You can think about that while you’re telling your therapist how I rode you senseless when we were in New York.”

I nearly choked on my own spit as she turned to pile food on her plate with the devious grin still on her face.

“You’ve definitely been spending too much time with me, but I like it,” I finally said through a laugh, suddenly feeling incredibly turned on by her dirty sense of humor. I gave her a grabby pat on the ass before turning my attention to breakfast. We ate quickly and in silence because Kat needed to get to the dance studio. After a rather passionate goodbye kiss and ear scratches for Zee, she was on her way with a promise to see me for our evening rehearsal.

I couldn’t stop smiling over how our morning had gone as I got ready for and drove to my therapy session. I really hoped this would be our new normal because it was everything. If every day started this way there’s no way I would ever go back to my dark place.

Dr. Smith seemed to sense my good mood as soon as I sat down across from her. She gave me a genuine smile as she asked how I was feeling today.

I had to work hard to wipe the goofy grin off my face as I responded, “I’m…good today.”

Her eyes scanned over me, briefly stopping on my clasped hands in my lap. My hands were still, but my thumbs were going to war with each other as I struggled to find something to do with my excess energy.

She narrowed her eyes slightly as they finally met mine. Her head tilted to the side, “So, how did New York go?”

Fuck. Am I that transparent? She totally knows. I laughed nervously, “I mean, it went…good. SNL went really well. I seem to be back on good terms with the cast. They wanna have me back sometime, so that’s exciting…It was a lot of work with all the rehearsals for both shows, but we survived it.”

She pursed her lips, tilting her head the opposite direction as she studied me. “How did things go with Kat?”

And there it is. Getting right to it. “Ummm, good. It was nice to get away from all the drama that LA brings with it. We had a good time.”

She smiled, “Good again, huh? Everything is just…good?”

I grimaced, now scratching at my beard as I thought how best to respond. She didn’t give me the chance.

“I saw the open mic videos that are circulating online. You wanna tell me about those?”

Fuck fuck fuck. I shrugged, “Well…there’s not much to tell. We went out with the SNL cast and got roped into doing it.”

She nodded, “And your performance on Monday?”

I just stared at her. I didn’t know where she was going with this. I knew she was doing that thing where she talked me into a hole that I couldn’t dig myself out of. I shrugged as I gave her a hesitant smile, “What about it?”

She gave me a soft smile, “Dieter, I’m not blind. I can tell something has changed between you and Kat since I saw you last. Did you tell her how you were feeling?”

The pressure was getting to me. I sighed before blurting out in a rush, “Ok fine we had sex.”

More word vomit. I didn’t have to tell her that part. Fucking hell Bravo.

Her eyes widened as she leaned back in the chair, digesting what I had just said.

“Ok, well, I wasn’t expecting that… I thought maybe you just had a conversation.”

I started squeezing and unsqueezing my hands into fists over and over, now feeling like I had done something wrong. It was one of my nervous ticks. She noticed it immediately.

She held out her hand and placed it atop mine, “Please relax. I’m not upset with you. Just tell me what happened.”

I puffed air out of my cheeks, “Well…the studio had us sharing a suite. So, we were together almost every second of the day while we were there. By the end of the week…there was just a crazy tension between us. She had ended things with Alec before we left, so I was feeling a little more confident about putting myself out there and I did. It was after the open mic thing…we were rehearsing our dance on the terrace of our suite. The tension had kind of reached a boiling point by then and she kissed me. It went on from there…I let her lead things.”

Her brows arched, “So she kissed you then you had sex?”

I nodded, suddenly feeling I had maybe slipped into old habits and handled things with Kat all wrong.

“I made sure first you know…that she knew that it meant something to me. I told her and asked her if she was sure. We talked after and I stayed with her that night. It happened a couple more times before we came back to LA.”

Her brows furrowed. Yeah, this doesn’t sound good, Bravo.

“Fuck…it was different with her, ok? We…ugh fuck.” I rubbed at the bridge of my nose. I was getting a headache.

“We had a connection. It was…emotional and intimate…it wasn’t just sex.”

She arched a brow at me to continue.

I sighed, “We haven’t had sex since we’ve been back. She stayed with me last night and I told her I didn’t want to…that I didn’t want it to be about that. I swear, I’m trying really hard to do this the right way. I really do care about her. I just don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.”

Dr. Smith held a neutral expression, not giving me anything when she asked, “What did you do last night?”

The question took me by surprise, “Umm…well we had rehearsal most of the day. Then we went to my place, and I cooked dinner for her. We sat outside in a lounger by the fire pit after…talking and watching the sunset. Then we went to bed.”

She narrowed her eyes, “So, you two slept in the same bed?”

I nodded, “Yeah, she slept with me and my cat.”

“And you didn’t have sex?”

I shook my head, “No. Just cuddled.”

Her eyebrow ticked upward slightly, “And what about this morning? How did things go? Any of the awkwardness you always worry about?”

I shook my head, “No. We spent a few minutes cuddling and talking about our day…then snuggled the cat. I made breakfast while she got ready… we ate…she kissed me and Zee goodbye then left for the studio.”

Dr. Smith chewed on the inside of her cheek, almost looking like she was fighting a smile. I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. She was making me so fucking anxious. She leaned forward, placing an elbow on her knee, “How much have you told her about your feelings?”

Again, not the question I expected. She was confusing the fuck out of me.

“I- umm…didn’t tell her exactly how I feel…only that I have feelings for her. I didn’t wanna throw the ‘L’ word out this soon and freak her out, ya know?”

She nodded, “And how did you feel after she left this morning?”

I looked down at my fisted hands in my lap. They relaxed some as that goofy uncontrollable grin slid across my face.

“I felt…happy. I would give anything to have all my mornings be like that…and my nights. Being with her makes me feel…alive…and complete.”

I was suddenly overcome with an overwhelming feeling that caused my eyes to prickle with the threat of tears. It was good tears though.

Dr. Smith smiled, “I think you’ve made more progress than you realize. It seems you’ve gotten your impulsive tendencies under control and I’m happy to see you’re working on your aversion to intimacy. All of this time that you’re spending with Kat talking, touching, learning…without involving sex…is the type of intimacy that you need and what you’ve been denying yourself of for so long. I’m proud of you for realizing that and following through with it. I can tell that having this kind of connection to someone is changing you for the better. You seem more confident and open about your feelings which can only aid you in creating a solid foundation with her.”

I was a little stunned at her praise. Any anxiety or doubts I had quickly dissipated.

She continued, “Given that, I do want to make sure you're expanding this growth to others in your life. I don’t want your happiness to depend on Kat. I want you to have happiness in the rest of your relationships too. Continue to build up your support system and bond with each of them.”

I nodded, “I’ve been trying…not that I have a very big circle right now…but those relationships feel strong. It’s been nice having Evan back on board. We’ve patched things up pretty well I think.”

She nodded, “That’s good to hear. I’m happy that it's been working out so well with him.”

She paused, seeming unsure about where she wanted to go next. She finally asked, “I assume you and Kat are keeping your relationship to yourselves?”

I nodded, “Yeah…because of Alec.”

“How have things been with him since you guys got back from New York?”

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, “Uhh…not good. We had…another confrontation on Monday after the show.”

Her brows furrowed, “What kind of confrontation?”

I sighed, “He was waiting for Kat in her dressing room and attacked her…One of the other couples came to get me after they saw him. When I finally got in, he was choking her. I shoved him off her…”

I really didn’t want to get into the rest of it because I knew where this conversation was going.

“What happened after that?” Dr. Smith prodded.

I puffed air out of my cheeks knowing she wasn’t going to let it go. My hands fisted in my lap again. I could feel my fingernails digging into the palms of my hands.

“I uhhh, I pinned him on the floor and hit him a few times…then tried to strangle him…I think. I’m not really sure what I was doing or thinking…I kind of blacked out in a blind rage when I saw what he was doing to Kat.”

Her lips set into a tight line, “What stopped you?”

I stared at my clenched fists, “One of the other dancers pulled me off him.”

“Did Kat go to the police?”

I shook my head, “No. She was worried the police report would get out to the media. She’s not wrong, it probably would’ve. She said I scared the shit out of him…so she doesn’t think he’ll try anything like that again.”

Dr. Smith gave me an empathetic look, “That’s never happened with you before, has it?”

I shook my head, “I mean, I went off on my dad a few times…but that’s it. I’m not a violent person.”

She nodded, “I know you’re not…which is why I’m concerned about how that incident affected you. Did it trigger any type of trauma response?”

I can’t fucking do this. “Can we just not go there today? I’m having a good day. I don’t wanna ruin it…”

She nodded, “Yeah, we can save it for next week if you want. So long as it’s not triggering anything.”

I shook my head, “No, not actively.”

“Ok. Next week then.”

We didn’t have much time left after that. We spent the last few minutes catching up on everything that happened in New York then called it a day. As I walked to the car, I chose to focus on the positive parts of that session, because I knew dwelling on the stuff about my past would sour my good mood quickly.

Just as I arrived back at the house, my phone lit up with a call from my agent, Lenny.

“Hey Lenny, what’s up?” I asked as I answered.

There was a brief moment of crackling static on the other end, “Hey D, I just wanted to check in and see how things are going?”

“Everything’s fine, why?” These “check in” calls always put me on edge. They usually meant I was about to be in trouble over something.

“No reason. I just wanted to catch up and let you know that we’ve gotten a lot of positive feedback about SNL. It’s definitely catching people’s attention. So is the feedback from the cast. They’re singing your praises.”

I couldn’t fight my smile. It made me feel good to hear something positive in relation to my work for once.

“That’s actually nice to hear. I had a lot of fun working with them this time around. They kept me very involved with every step. I really enjoyed it.”

“I really think this is the beginning of things turning around for your career. We just gotta keep that positive buzz going, ya know? You’ve been doing really well, and I think this helped people see that. You were really on top of your game Saturday. The fans are loving the dancing stuff too by the way. Pairing you with Kat has worked out well.”

My smile widened as I rubbed the back of my neck, “Yeah, Kat’s been great. I love working with her. I’m glad you talked me into doing the show…it’s been a lot of fun.”

Lenny cleared his throat nervously, “Speaking of Kat…I saw those videos of you two singing together…”

My brows furrowed. I wasn’t sure where this was going.

“OooK? And?” I asked.

“Well, the agency has noticed that those videos are getting a lot of attention…do you think she would be open to doing more stuff like that? For publicity?”

I sighed, frustrated by the turn in conversation. “I’m not gonna use Kat for publicity for my career.”

Lenny chuckled, “Aren’t you kind of doing that already?”

I got out of my car and began pacing the driveway, “The only thing I want her involved in is publicity for the show that we are working on together. I won’t ask her for more than that…or trick her into doing anything more than that. I’m not gonna take advantage of her in that way.”

Lenny sighed, “Fine…OK. I get it. It doesn’t have to be with her though. Maybe you could do some Instagram Lives again and sing a little. The fans would eat that shit up.”

I rolled my eyes, “Yeah, I dunno about that, Len. I would feel awkward.”

Lenny huffed into the phone, “D, you used to do them all the time. What’s the big deal?”

I paused my pacing and ran my hand down my face, “The big deal is that I was usually cracked out of my mind and acting like a fool. I didn’t give two shits about how it looked or what people thought about my psychotic rants or partying. I’m not that guy anymore.”

“That’s exactly WHY you should do it. Show the world the NEW Dieter Bravo. If it’s what the fans want, give it to them.”

I sighed, “So you want me to do Lives and sing? Seriously?”

“Fuck yes. Sing, play your guitar…hell, I’d settle for watching you re-pot a plant…get creative like I know you can be. We need to start getting you out there more. Your fan base is growing like crazy thanks to the ballroom dance shit, so we need to take advantage of that and keep them hooked.”

This was making me anxious. I needed to end the conversation. “I’ll think about it, OK? I dunno how I feel about it.”

Lenny sighed, “Fine, think about it…but just do it. And if Kat happens to be involved in any way, the agency will not complain…just so you know.”

I scoffed, “Fuck off with that. I told you, I’m not using her for that shit.”

Lenny chuckled, “OK… fine, fine. Look, I’ve gotta go to a meeting. I’ll check back in with you in a few days.”

I rolled my eyes again, “Yeah, you go do that. Talk soon. Bye.”

I didn’t give him a chance to respond before I hung up. I was beyond annoyed with him after that conversation. I shook my head as I walked inside, deciding not to give the topic any more thought.

Kat and I had our late rehearsal that afternoon. She brought in some props for us to use like we planned so that it would be a little more authentic and not just us pretending to remove pieces of clothing and dancing around non-existent furniture throughout the routine, because yes, we were totally going there. This performance was definitely going to push some boundaries, and we were one hundred percent rolling with it because why the fuck not?

Once we were done for the day, Kat came back to my place. We had leftovers for dinner then spent the rest of our time cuddling and talking. Our evening went basically the same as the previous one. We seemed to be settling into a routine of sorts. I loved getting to know her like this, laughing with her, and watching her with Zee. I couldn’t have asked for anyone more perfect for me if I tried.

Thursday was filming day. We of course had to watch ourselves, especially with the sexiness of this week’s dance. I tried to keep things light with jokes and just making a general ass of myself. My nonsense started when Kat left the room for a quick bathroom break. I put on the long flowy wrap skirt with a Velcro closure that she was using to rehearse in. When she returned, she was greeted by me swishing around the room. I briefly paused, giving her a dainty curtsy complete with a raised pinky, which caused her to wheeze in laughter. The rehearsal was nothing but fits of giggles after that, especially when I struggled through some of the more complicated lift combos and when we tripped over each other’s feet during the intertwining leg moves that Kat had us doing. Even the film crew was having a hard time keeping it together. I could only hope it came across as two friends having fun and struggling to be serious with a sexy dance rather than two people who were in a secret relationship and doing far more intimate things in their spare time.

Kat came home with me again that night. I encouraged her to relax on the couch as I made dinner for us. Zee joined her, stretching out for belly rubs while she waited to be fed too. Kat hadn’t said anything, but I could tell she wasn’t feeling that well. I couldn’t help worrying that the long hours of dancing were getting to her. I needed to do better about making sure she was taking care of herself. I didn’t want her to neglect her self-care because she was spending too much time with me. Even if that meant I had to take care of her myself.

After she crawled into bed that night, I took a few minutes to do just that. I started with a foot massage, taking special care to avoid that certain spot that I knew would get her worked up. It wasn’t about that tonight. I just wanted her to relax and find some relief for her aching joints. I eventually moved up to her calf and worked my way up from there before switching to the other leg.

She watched me intently for a time. Eventually settling back into the pillows and humming to herself as she closed her eyes. As my hand slid up to the upper half of her leg and began to massage there, the slight pressing together of her thighs didn’t go unnoticed. I chuckled quietly as my fingertips kneaded a little deeper into the meaty area.

She sighed, “I know you’re not purposely trying to, but you’re torturing me…just a little bit.”

I laughed, moving both hands to her hip to massage there. “I can tell. My apologies. I’ll avoid the inner thigh next time.”

She hummed in satisfaction, “Next time? You’re spoiling me, you know that right? I’m ruined.”

I smiled, crawling up her body to bury my face in her chest and inhale her intoxicating citrus and plum scent that I never seemed to get enough of. “Good. That’s my goal. You deserve it.”

Her hands tangled in my hair as her nails gently scratched my scalp. We sat like that in a comfortable silence. Just feeling each other. The warmth of her skin and the steady thump of her heartbeat under my ear lulled me into a stupor, making me feel calm and peaceful. The gaping hole that I had felt in my heart for most of my life now seemed nonexistent and it was because of her. I no longer felt like I was lost. I was home.

My arms tightened against her sides as I considered that thought, suddenly feeling an overwhelming sense of relief that had a lump forming in my throat. I took a few deep breaths, pushing the tears away that were threatening to seep out. I wanted to tell her how I was feeling, but I held it back - still afraid that it was too soon.

When I raised my head to meet her gaze, my chest felt like it was going to burst over how fucking perfect she was. I wasn’t sure what my expression held, but she picked up on my emotional state causing her fingers to still their movements. Her brows pinched together. “You OK?” she asked.

I had to clear the lump away in my throat before I spoke. “Yeah…I’m just getting tired. You ready to go to bed?”

Her eyes searched my face for a brief moment before she nodded and withdrew her arms from around my shoulders so I could get up to switch off the light. Afterward, I crawled back into the bed, settling in at her back before pulling her body snugly against my front. She drifted off quickly, her breathing slowing as she relaxed further into me. I had a harder time finding sleep that night as my thoughts ran wild with possibilities for our future. There was no question about it, I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her and I wanted it to start now. However, I knew that was my impulsive nature talking. I needed to take this slow and continue to follow her lead. If this was going to work, it needed to be on her timeline, not mine.

Friday morning Kat awoke feeling groggy and stiff. I had a feeling she felt worse than she let on, but she insisted she would be alright once she started moving around. I got up to get a hot shower going while she took a few minutes to do some gentle stretches. She joined me afterward, yawning before snaking her arms around my waist and leaning against my chest as she stood under the hot spray.

My fingers went to her hair, working the water through it until it was saturated. My hands then found their way to her face, cupping her cheeks as I took in her expression.

“Are you sure you’re feeling OK? Maybe we should cut our rehearsal time down today?”

She shrugged, “We’ll see how it goes. I’m just having a slow start…I think.”

I sighed, “If you need a break today I think it would be OK. We’ve got it down pretty good so far…”

She put a finger over my lips to silence me, “I’m feeling better already. Relax.”

I rolled my eyes and nodded, dropping the subject and focused my attention on washing her hair. She did seem to be feeling better by the time we were done showering, which helped alleviate some of my concern. However, a few hours into rehearsal, it was clear she was running out of steam. The occasional wince and constant shifting on her feet told me she was uncomfortable and most likely having joint pain.

By the time we were down to our last hour and a half of studio time, I called it. She protested as I sat down on the floor with my arms and legs crossed like a petulant child and refused to do anything else. She finally relented and started packing up as she reluctantly admitted she was feeling like shit. I wanted to take her home with me and take care of her, but she wasn’t having it. She decided instead to go to her house and “sleep it off”. I wasn’t happy about it but agreed. I was saddened by the fact that she wouldn’t allow me to help in any way and also by the fact that she wouldn’t be staying with me that night. I was already getting used to having her in my bed. The mere thought of her not being there was already making me feel anxious.

I ended up breaking our self-imposed rules and pulled her into the small one person bathroom as we were about to leave. I needed to feel her, if only for a brief moment before we parted for the evening. She scolded me, but that didn’t stop her from wrapping her arms around my neck as I leaned in for a fiery kiss. It helped dampen my anxiousness, but it was only temporary.

Once we finally broke apart, she exited the bathroom and scanned the area for any nosey onlookers. Finding none, she gave me the all clear to come out behind her. We said our polite goodbyes after that. Then we were on our way to our respective homes.

The anxious feeling quickly returned when I walked into my house alone. I had to keep myself busy catching up on some much needed plant care in an attempt to drown out the lonely feeling that kept creeping in. Even Zee seemed to be moping around, lacking her usual enthusiasm for dinner and play time.

The minutes seemed to be dragging on painfully slow as I ran out of things to keep me occupied. I ended up spending the rest of the evening in my studio working on one of the several paintings I had started of my new muse. It was nearing midnight when I finally decided to go to bed, even though I was still feeling amped up. I really wanted to text Kat and see how she was feeling, but didn’t want to chance waking her up if she was asleep. It was almost maddening.

My sleep that night was restless. I had tossed and turned so much that Zee got mad and left the bedroom. I felt groggy when the alarm woke me from my light sleep the next morning. I was staring at the ceiling and feeling almost ridiculous over the fact that not having Kat here was affecting me this much when my phone pinged. I couldn’t help smiling when I saw her name pop up on the screen. I grabbed my phone, realizing I had a few texts from random numbers that I didn’t even bother to look at. Hers was the only one I cared about.

Kit Kat: I should have just gone home with you. Your bed is so much more comfortable than mine. 😞

My smile widened as I hit the call button.

Her voice was muffled when she answered, like she had her face buried in a pillow. I chuckled, “Thanks for the tip, honey. Now I know what argument to use next time.”

She huffed, “Shush you. I didn’t wanna be a burden.”

I sighed knowing that was probably the way Alec often made her feel, “You’re never a burden. I’d just put your ass to bed and go downstairs so you could sleep. Problem solved.”

She laughed as I continued, “OR…or…I’d crawl into bed and sleep it off with you. A little extra sleep never hurt anyone. Seriously though, are you feeling better?”

I could hear the blankets rustling as she moved around, “Umm, maybe. Not as achy, but still a little stiff.”

“Do you wanna hold off on rehearsal and rest some more?” I asked.

She scoffed, “Absolutely not. It’s our last rehearsal day. There are a couple of things we need to nail down before tomorrow.”

I rolled my eyes, “Ok, fine. I’m gonna bring you some herbal tea though. No complaining. You’re gonna drink it and like it. It’ll help.”

She sighed dramatically, “Yes, sir. Whatever you say.”

I groaned, “Please don’t talk like that or else I’m gonna get hard.”

She snickered, “Sorry. I’ll behave. I’ll see you at the studio here shortly, yeah?”

“Yep. I’ll bring you some breakfast too. Just worry about gettin’ yourself there.”

I could hear the smile in her voice as she replied with a breathy, “Yes, sir.”

I raked a hand down my face, feeling that familiar rush of blood to my dick, “Damnit.”

“Enjoy your morning shower,” she said with a laugh.

“Yeah yeah…bye. See you soon, sweetheart.”

After a very cold shower, I got ready, fed Zee, made Kat’s tea, then headed out. As promised, I stopped to pick up some breakfast on the way. I found Kat already stretching when I walked in. She looked like she felt a little better at least.

After eating, we got to it, working out the last of the minor kinks that we kept running into with the lifts. By the end of our rehearsal session, we were successfully executing the routine perfectly each time and were feeling pretty confident about it. The only concern we had was that the producers might want us to tone down the sexual nature of it. My thought was to tell them to fuck off because they picked the song. It was their fault.

Once rehearsal was over, we had to make our way over to Television City Studios for spray tan night. There was no getting out of it this week unfortunately. It was obvious that gossip was spreading throughout the staff and cast based on the general vibes toward us. What that gossip was, we had no idea. I assumed it was mostly to do with the Alec confrontation. Everyone was nice of course, but the looks being passed around told us things were being said.

The weird vibes seemed to intensify when Alec and Lana showed up. We hadn’t seen him since the incident, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. His face was definitely banged up more than I thought it would be - with a black eye, busted lip, and bruised jaw. I couldn’t help feeling a little satisfaction from that. He deserved far worse.

I could feel Kat tensing beside me when she caught sight of Alec. I placed my hand on the small of her back for reassurance, which caused her to lean into me and focus her attention elsewhere. Marc and Stefanie joined us, checking in with Kat to see how she was doing. I was only half paying attention, keeping my eye on the asshole, watching as Lana seemed to try and sooth him. It was obvious his usual crowd wasn’t being as friendly with him. I hoped that meant they were finally seeing what kind of person he was. He deserved to lose everything.

Luckily, we didn’t have to wait long. A PA sought us out and explained that they would take care of us first from now on so we could get out of there in an effort to keep Kat away from Alec. Clearly Stacia and Joe had shared some information with the staff, but who knew how much? The rumors were probably getting pretty wild at this point. I could only imagine what was going to eventually hit the tabloids.

After reminding Kat about my comfortable bed, she came home with me after that. We ordered some to-go food from the Greek diner on the way and had that for dinner. I encouraged her to go get some rest after we ate. She protested, but still followed me upstairs and allowed me to put her into one of my oversized t-shirts and braid her hair before pulling back the covers and urging her to lay down. Zee joined her almost immediately and snuggled into her side so that I could tuck them both in. I sat on the edge of the bed, pushing a few loose strands of hair back as she smiled up at me.

“I feel weird coming over here just to sleep,” she finally said.

I rolled my eyes, “It’s fine. I like that you wanna be here, even if you are using me for my orthopedic mattress.”

She snorted out a laugh, “You know that’s not the only reason I’m here. I…I feel safe here…with you.”

My lips set into a tight line. I hated that she ever had to feel unsafe. “You can stay here as long as you want. I don’t mind. I actually…”

I paused, suddenly feeling vulnerable, but decided to say what I was thinking anyway.

“I feel less lonely when you’re here.”

She gave me a misty-eyed smile as she reached for my hand and brought it to her lips. I gave her a soft smile in return, rubbing my thumb over the tops of her fingers.

“Now, you rest. I think I’m gonna go paint for a bit, then I’ll come to bed.”

After leaning down to give her and Zee a quick kiss on the top of the head, I disappeared to my studio. I started a new painting that night. It was of Kat, of course, lying on her side facing away in the creamy colored bedding that contrasted so perfectly with the golden brown skin of her bare back. Her chestnut hair wild and fanning out around her head. I made sure to add the two small freckles on her left shoulder blade that I loved to kiss so much as well as the subtle definition of her toned muscles that I always found to be so fucking sexy. I worked to get the curve of her hip just right as the sheet draped off it.

She really did have the body of a goddess, full and curvy but still firm and perfectly sculpted from a life spent on the dance floor. It was feminine, yet exuded strength. I was almost certain she could crush my head with her thighs if she wanted to, which was sort of a turn on if I was being honest.

My intense concentration was broken by my phone pinging with a text message. It was another random number. I glanced at it, someone wanting to get together to party after seeing me on SNL. I had started getting a lot of these all of a sudden. Since none of the numbers were saved, I knew it couldn’t be anyone good. I had cleared out my contacts list after rehab for a reason. I rolled my eyes, then blocked the number.

Realizing it was nearing 10:30 PM, I decided to head to bed. I made an effort to be quiet as I went through my nightly routine. Kat didn’t seem fazed in the slightest as I crawled into bed behind her to be the big spoon. She sunk back into my embrace as I put my arm around her and Zee, who was still snuggled against her chest. Once her scent invaded my senses, I was out.

I woke up the next morning nose to nose with Kat. Her eyes were on my face as her fingers combed through the mess that I knew my hair had to be. She gave me a toothy smile as she told me ‘Good morning’. I responded by pulling her into a passionate kiss that lasted several minutes, finally breaking away because we really needed to get up. It was show day, so we couldn’t get behind schedule.

We drove to the studio separately to keep up appearances. I took a detour for coffee mostly so we didn’t show up at the same time. We ended up being pretty early, but the crew was ready to get started once I got there. Kat and I talked through the music arrangement with the band Director, then got started on our first run through for camera blocking and lighting. The routine was definitely getting everyone’s attention.

Kat and I caught Stacia and Joe watching from the back of the ballroom. A nervous look passed between us, waiting for the chat to tell us to tone it down some, but that talk never came. The rest of the cast began filtering into the ballroom just as we were finishing up our third and final run through. We finished up to a few whoops and whistles from some of them. Most of the ruckus seemed to be coming from Marc and Stefanie. Marc gave me a pat on the back as we walked off the dance floor as he and Stefanie praised us. I was slowly forming a new appreciation for them as we exited to go to our costume fitting.

After putting on my black pants, I didn’t bother to button up the shirt before walking out to the fitting area where Kat and Amy were discussing the minor additions to her costume that would be removed throughout the performance. She turned to me, holding out two skirt options that would fit over her original black lace costume, asking which one I thought would be best. We ended up going through those moves of the dance to test them out. We settled on a lightweight silky one.

After that, I was standing in front of the three panel mirror as Kat fussed with my open shirt and explained what we needed. Amy decided to use some sticky Velcro strips to close it up rather than the buttons so that Kat could easily yank it open at the right moment. Once Amy got everything sorted and fastened, Kat shocked me a little by coming up behind me, grasping the shirt in her hands, and ripping it open without warning. She rested her chin on my shoulder as she laughed out, “I think that’ll get the job done.”

I snorted out a laugh, as our eyes locked in the mirror. She had a mischievous grin on her face as she pulled the shirt open further and allowed her eyes to travel downward. She raised an eyebrow as she focused on my middle section.

I shrugged, “I think the spray tan lady gave me better abs. They were there this morning.”

It was Kat’s turn to snort out a laugh as she ran her hands down my stomach, “No, they were there already…she just did a little contouring.”

I rolled my eyes, “Whatever. I mean, I’ve lost weight but I dunno about that.”

She leaned in closer to my ear, “I’d still hit it with or without them.”

My breath hitched as I glanced over at Amy who seemed to be in deep conversation with an assistant, then I looked back to Kat who was still giving me that mischievous smile. She was playing with fire today.

I tilted my head to whisper in her direction, “Better watch yourself Kitten, or else I’ll do just that.”

She was still standing pressed to my back when I felt a hand grab my ass. She gave me a cheeky grin before letting go and turning toward Amy and her assistant to ask for a black tie and suit jacket to go with my costume. After changing out of our costumes, Amy rushed them back for the minor alterations needed. Then we were off to hair and makeup.

We managed to nab our favorite hair and makeup team, which we were happy about. Those ladies were always a good time, making the process a lot more bearable. Kat opted to wear her hair down in soft waves again this week, rubbing it in as the hair gel was slathered onto my head to slick my hair back in that way they loved doing to all the guys.

As I watched Kat interact with everyone, I could see a notable change in her. She seemed more carefree and happier than she had been during those first few weeks, openly joking around and having fun with those around her. I briefly wondered if she ever had this in prior seasons - the freedom to be herself. If she hadn’t, it made me sad knowing that she never fully got it until the end. She deserved so much better than she got.

I was drawn from my thoughts by Kat suggesting to Samantha that I should wear some mascara and a smidge of eyeliner. I furrowed my brows at her and started laughing.

“You’re not serious?” I asked.

She sank her teeth into her bottom lip, fighting a smile as she nodded. Holly glanced up from Kat’s hair and smiled, “I agree. That’d be hot.”

Kat waggled her eyebrows at me, “Yeah, see. It’s hot…”

Samantha gave me a questioning look and I shrugged, “If that’s what my girl wants, that’s what she gets.”

I realized too late what I had actually said, causing me to grimace slightly. Kat’s eyes widened before she laughed it off. Samantha and Holly seemed unfazed by it, laughing along and getting back to work.

We got held up with our costumes for a bit as they perfected the last minute changes we requested. By the time they got that figured out, we were the last couple to do final dress rehearsals. Luckily a lot of the cast had cleared out by then since they were finished, so we didn’t have to worry about too big of an audience. We ended up having to go through the routine a couple more times than we normally did to work out the kinks with the costumes since they were a little different from what we had been using in rehearsal. Once that was figured out, we nailed it.

We didn’t have long before the show started after that. Kat and I were the fourth couple to perform, so we were already in the staging area waiting. She had to do a quick change after the opening professionals performance then immediately joined me again so that we could start our pre-performance ritual. I grabbed Kat’s phone to pick a song and began laughing before I even hit play.

🎶Listen to Dieter's Song Choice Here🎶

Kat narrowed her eyes at me as the hip-hop beat filled her wired earbud. I was already moving to the music by the time she realized what the song was. Her face flushed red and she fought to hold in laughter as she shook her head at me.

I started mouthing along with the words as I grabbed her hands to get her to move with me, “I take you to the candy shop, I let you lick the lollipop.”

She shushed me through her giggles, going along and moving with me to the beat. It wasn’t exactly a hype song, but it allowed us to have some fun and shake off the nerves before we got the signal to head to the dance floor.

🎶Listen to Performance Song Here🎶

We took our places, me standing with a suit jacket casually thrown over my shoulder with Kat in front of me as a light fog surrounded us. After a flourish of her arms as the song started, her hands slid down the sides of my face to my chest.

You put a spell on me / I’m losing my mind

She turned, walking away suggestively and beckoning me with a finger. I threw the jacket down and followed behind her. Then our back and forth power struggle began as I caught up to her, capturing her arm for a spin and pulling her backside to my front.

You better stop these things / It’s a matter of time before I hunt you down, grab your chin, kiss your lips. / You bring me back, I lay you down, and grab your hips, and we lose all control.

We swayed in unison as she turned her face toward mine, my hand capturing her chin and pressing the side of my mouth against hers. My hands found their way to her hips as we did a deep circular rotation with them in unison before spinning her to face me for the next verse.

And then before you know, I put a spell on you, and now you’re mine. / I’ve got a hold on you, at least for tonight.

We swayed, staring into each other's eyes as my hands caressed her face. We transitioned into an intertwining leg combo before she spun away from me, her hand cupping my cheek before sliding down and pulling the loose tie from around my neck to take with her.

You know I can’t help myself as you ask tenderly / If I’d dim the lights as your hand brushes me / Then the floor swallows your clothes, and your silhouette puts on a show

With a flourish of my hands and a snap, the lights dimmed. A spotlight dropped down on Kat as she discarded the tie and began a slow and seductive roll of her body. Pulling the newly added silky skirt loose as she spun and dropping it to the floor before moving toward me and kicking her leg up for the lift onto my shoulder.

You give me fever, drive me insane / You got me going in circles with potions and bottles and I can’t escape / I can’t escape / I’m lost in your ways

We transitioned into a salida, our foot work completely in sync before Kat moved her legs in a swivel, sliding her arms to my neck as mine tightened under her arms and around her back. Her feet spread wide so that they were inches off the floor as I leaned forward and spun us in a circle.

You put a spell on me / I’m losing my mind / You better stop these games / It’s a matter of time before I hunt you down, grab your chin, kiss your lips. / You bring me back, I lay you down, and grab your hips, and we lose all control.

As I gently placed her back on the floor, she grabbed my waist, turning me away from her so that she could rip my shirt open similar to the way she had in the dressing room earlier. After pulling the shirt off and discarding it on the floor, things only got more sensual as we moved across the ballroom as one. Hands sliding across each other's bare skin as our foreheads pressed together. Lips brushing as she twisted and swiveled around me. I spun her, her back to my front again for the deep circular rotation of our hips before moving into the tango walk.

I put a spell on you, and now you’re mine. / I’ve got a hold on you, at least for tonight…At least for tonight.

For the final part, we transitioned into another lift as I spun her around and gently lowered her to her knees on top of the fake bed we had requested as a prop. After dipping her backwards at the waist and doing half a rotation, she popped back up into our finishing pose with her hands on my face and our lips near touching as the lights quickly dimmed to black causing a deafening round of applause.

Kat managed to sneak an actual kiss in before the lights came back on. There was something incredibly thrilling about it, knowing that all eyes were on us but they couldn’t see anything in that brief moment. It had me wanting her so badly. I was ready to leave without getting our scores.

It was time to chat with the judges after that. They mainly focused on how sexy the performance was, going so far as to make jokes about fines for not meeting the show rating standards. They mentioned how our chemistry seemed to evolve more and more each week and was now exploding off the charts. It left me wondering how much longer we could keep this thing between us under wraps if we couldn’t hide it on the dance floor.

I had a hard time concentrating on anything except Kat during our interview. My arm was around her shoulders while she had placed one around my waist. I hadn’t bothered to put my shirt back on, so I could feel every inch of her pressing against me with only the thin fabric of the lace costume separating us. Her fingers held my waist firmly as she pulled me tightly against her side.

The air around us almost felt like it was vibrating as we fumbled our way through the hosts' questions, trying to explain how we kept our cool with such a provocative dance. I felt like they were trying to trip us up into saying something incriminating in regard to our relationship, but we played it cool, managing to redirect the focus to two friends having fun while working together.

After standing around waiting for a commercial break to end, they went straight into scoring. We received four tens. Another perfect score. We were elated obviously. Kat didn’t hesitate to jump into my arms for a hug over the news. We were buzzing with excitement after that, finding it hard to focus on the remaining performances. Especially when we would brush against each other, accidentally or not. I tried to avoid shooting heated glances her way, but it was hard. Especially when she seemed to be reciprocating them.

We both sighed in relief when the show was finally over, making a beeline toward the dressing rooms. We had zero urge to hang around and socialize once the show ended. Honestly, after our steamy performance, the only thing I could think about was getting her alone just so I could kiss her. I was quickly losing the strength to restrain myself from scooping her up in my arms in front of everyone. We reached my room first, after glancing up and down the hallway for prying eyes and finding none, I turned toward her with a mischievous smile and pulled her through the doorway.

After closing the door behind us, I backed her to the middle of the room, pulling her hips against mine as I captured her lips in a searing kiss. Her hands snaked around my neck as she deepened it, swallowing the groan that rumbled from my chest. I pulled back in an effort to not get carried away, sighing as I pushed her hair away from her face. “Lemme get changed so we can get outta here.”

She huffed, suggestively running her fingertips down the bare skin of my chest. “Fine…OK,” she said in mock annoyance. She moved to lean against the vanity countertop, crossing her arms as she watched me undress down to my boxer briefs.

I couldn’t help standing up a little straighter and puffing out my chest as I asked, “You see something you like, honey?”

She smiled as she looked at me through her lashes, “Maybe…”

I playfully rolled my eyes and chuckled, grabbing my robe off a wall hook and putting it on before shoving my costume into its garment bag. I quickly opened the door to put it out for pickup. As I closed the door behind me, I surveyed the room, thinking through what I needed to pack up to take with me. I walked toward the vanity, reaching around Kat to grab my phone charger. She tilted her head closer, grazing her nose along my neck before sucking on my earlobe as her fingers tugged the robe open. My hand paused midair as I leaned into her mouth with a smile, “What do you think you’re doing, sweetheart?”

Her palms moved to my chest, pushing me backwards until the back of my knees bumped the chair, “Why don’t you sit for a spell, Bravo.”

I was curious where this was going, so I didn’t argue. The robe fell open as I sunk down into the chair, slouching with my legs spread wide - giving her an eye full of little Bravo who was now at full attention and dying to come out to play. My eyes stayed on hers as they drifted down to enjoy the view. She ambled forward, swaying her hips seductively until she came to stop between my thighs. She reached out, cupping my cheek with a smirk on her lips as she lifted one leg, then the other to straddle my hips. Only the thin fabric of our undergarments separated my hard length from the place that it wanted to disappear into. My hands found her hips, gripping and rocking them against me. Her eyes fluttered closed at the contact as she leaned forward against my chest, changing the angle to seek more friction. My face nuzzled against hers as my lips found her ear, “I want you so bad right now…need to stop teasing me.”

Her breath hitched as I bucked against her to emphasize my point. She turned her head, mouth hovering above mine, “You can have me…anytime you want. You don’t even need to ask…”

I smiled against her lips, “Is that right?”

She nodded, leaning in for a sensual kiss as she continued to slowly roll her hips against mine.

I groaned as my hands slid up her bare thighs to dip under the hem of her dress and grab the globes of her ass. “Tell me what you need, Kitten,” I mumbled between kisses.

She pulled back, running her hands down my chest as she stared into the depths of my soul with a playful smile. “I want you to show me what a proper fucking from Dieter Bravo is like.”

My brows knitted together as a wide grin spread across my face, “What? Here? Now?”

Her brows arched, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she nodded.

I sighed, “Oh Kitten, I don’t think you can be quiet enough for that. You’ll get us caught.”

She straightened her shoulders as her eyes narrowed on me, “You wanna try me?”

I huffed out a laugh, giving a jerky nod, “Yes, I fucking do.”

My lips crashed against hers, kissing her with more force than I ever had. If she wanted that carnal, animalistic side of me, who was I to deny her? Fucking was something I knew all too well, but I could already tell that even this would feel differently with her, and I craved it. I wanted her in any way she would let me have her.

A knock on the door caused us to breathlessly break away from each other.

“Dieter, are you still here?” a voice called from the hallway.

Kat and I stared at each other, confused by the sudden interruption.

“Yeah…I’m here…” I called back cautiously.

“Have you seen Kat? She hasn’t turned in her costume yet. I’d like to get out of here soon.”

We both held in giggles as I yelled back, “Haven’t seen her.”

Kat smiled mischievously and wiggled against my extremely hard dick. I gave her a look of warning as we heard muted muttering and retreating footsteps outside the door. Once it appeared that the coast was clear, my lips found hers again as she continued to grind against me. My body felt like it was on fire, her touch further stoking the flame as her hand moved downward between us. Just as her fingertips dipped under the waistband of my boxer briefs, another knock sounded on the door, “Dieter, can you like…text her or something? No one’s seen her.”

I let out a frustrated growl as I leaned my forehead against Kat’s, “Oh for fucks sake…”

She fought a smile as she held in her laugh.

“Just… give me a minute!” I finally called back a bit more harshly than I meant to.

Without a second thought, I grabbed Kat’s thighs and stood, sitting her on the edge of the vanity before squatting down to take off her dance shoes. She watched me work with a small smile on her lips, lifting first her right foot, then the left for me to unbuckle the straps and place kisses along her calf as I pulled each shoe off. My hands ghosted up her legs toward her hips, gripping them to pull her off the vanity. I turned her to face the mirror, then unfastened the hooks to the straps on the back of her dress. Our gazes locked on each other in the mirror as I began to slide the dress down her body, revealing her to me. Once I pushed it past her hips, my head tipped forward to place gentle kisses along her neck, whispering a quiet “wait here” against her ear before I tied my robe shut and bent down to collect her costume.

I had to adjust myself as I moved across the room, hoping the loose fabric of the robe might conceal my raging hard on as I carefully opened the door just far enough to pass off the costume pieces in question. I quickly shoved them through the opening, “Here ya go.”

The PA momentarily stared at me with confusion before finally reaching to take the costume. I gave her a tight smile, “Have a good evening.”

She still looked confused as she replied, “Uhh, thanks?”

Without another word, I shut the door and locked it. Turning to find Kat still standing facing the mirror like I left her.

She smirked, “You realize that’s probably gonna cause some gossip…”

I quickly closed the distance between us, my hands gliding around to the front of her body to explore her curves, “Then let them fucking gossip. I have urgent matters to attend to…”

My left hand cupped her breast and squeezed it gently, eliciting a soft sigh from her as she leaned back against my chest. Her right hand reached behind her, tugging at the tie to the robe and pulling it open again. Her eyes settled on mine in the mirror as she cradled my bulge and stroked it gently.

I tisked at her as I grabbed her hand away, “Oh no no, Kitten. If you want a proper fuck, that means I’m in charge right now.”

She sucked in a sharp breath, allowing her hand to fall limply at her side as my right hand joined the left, kneading her breasts and pulling her body flush with mine. My mouth found her neck, nipping little love bites up the length of it as my right hand slid into the waistband of her underwear to gently tease her, spreading her slick over the swollen bud that was already throbbing in anticipation.

Within seconds she melted against me, whimpering as my fingers found their rhythm. Once her body began to tense and tremble, I withdrew my hand and was met with a soft whine.

“Don’t worry, Kitten. I’m not done yet…just warming you up.”

My fingers moved to her hips, hooking in the elastic of her underwear. “Can I take these off?” I asked against the curve of her neck, causing goosebumps to form on her skin.

She nodded, letting out a breathy “please” as she arched into me. I placed open mouthed kisses down her spine as I slid them off. After standing upright, I placed a knee between her thighs to spread her legs as my right hand found its way back to her center. My fingers gently rubbed tight circles around her clit while my left hand moved back to her breast. My eyes connected with hers in the mirror again as my teeth grazed her earlobe. She was already coming undone, panting and squirming against me, and we hadn’t even gotten to the fun part yet.

“You tell me to stop if I’m being too rough,” I said against her ear.

Her breath hitched as she nodded. I withdrew my fingers, giving her clit a quick smack causing her to moan quietly, “Use your words, Kitten. I need you to agree. Don’t be afraid to tell me to stop. You understand?”

She nodded again, “Y-Yes, I understand.”

I gave her a cheeky smile, “Good girl.”

Another quick smack to her center had her falling forward with a deep groan, resting her palms on the vanity as she rubbed her ass against me. My fingers got back to work, sinking into her heat and curling against just the right spot as I roughly shook my palm against her bundle of nerves.

I hadn’t been this aggressive with her in the past, so I focused on what her body was telling me, afraid she wouldn’t make me stop if it was too much. She seemed to be into it as she sought out more friction against my palm. Her brows pinched together as her jaw went lax. Her head dropped down between her shoulders as she fought to hold in the moans. My left hand slid up to her neck, gripping just under her chin to pull her back against my chest as I kept up the relentless pace with my fingers.

“I need to see your face, keep your eyes on me please.”

She panted out a breathy, “Yes, sir” and I nearly lost myself. She must have felt my dick twitch against her, because she smiled widely, reaching one hand behind her to grab at my ass to pull my hips tighter against hers.

I chuckled next to her ear as I rolled her clit between my fingertips, “Such a needy girl…come for me then I’ll fuck you like you want me to.”

She gasped at the new sensation, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip to hold in the sounds that were trying to escape. Her eyes shifted between mine and my hands in the mirror, the sight seeming to spur her on as she writhed against me. I could tell she was close as I dipped my fingers back into her heat while roughly shaking my palm against her clit again. Her free hand grabbed my forearm, squeezing it tightly as she began to tremble and tense in my arms before going limp. I gave her a moment, allowing her to come down from her high as my hands explored her body.

I suddenly felt her arch against me as a lazy smile spread across her face. “Will you fuck me now? Please?” she asked in a sultry voice.

Little Bravo was damn near busting through my boxer briefs at that. I was still a little apprehensive, afraid that I would hurt her. I knew the dancing was beginning to wear her body down, and I didn’t want to add to it, but I trusted that she would tell me if it was too much.

I gave her a cocky smile as my right hand ghosted up her spine to grab the base of her neck to manipulate her into position, “Lean forward.”

She complied, placing her palms on the vanity as she tilted her hips back and upward to give me better access. We stared at each other in the mirror as my fingertips lightly stroked down her back, then grabbed her hips, gripping them tightly as I rubbed my hardness against her. Before she could register what I was doing, I drew my hand back and slapped her ass. She flinched slightly. I soothed the area with my palm as I studied her, “Is that too much?”

She smiled and shook her head, “No…just wasn’t expecting it.” Her voice had a raspy and needy tone to it.

I gave it another smack, causing her to exhale out a quiet groan as she pushed back against me. I paused, savoring the sight of her before me, naked and nearly bent over the countertop in my dressing room. It was a sight I had never expected to see. This wasn’t at all an unusual situation for me before I got sober. I’d had more than my fair share of women and men bent over countertops in dressing rooms, but with her, it just felt different. I felt the same rush of excitement and arousal, but there was something else there with it. A tightness in my chest and tingling along my skin as my gaze met hers.

My connection with her was more than physical and gave me a high unlike any drug I’d ever had. I could only assume this is what it felt like to be in love with someone. I suddenly understood why some men would risk life and limb for their significant other. If this is how they were made to feel, then I couldn’t blame them. I’d do anything for her.

I reached down with my right hand, releasing myself from my boxer briefs as my other hand gently caressed her back. She watched me stroking myself in the mirror, her breathing speeding up from the sight as I tipped my head forward, allowing spit to drip down to my hand to spread over the hard length.

I moved closer to her back side, allowing my cock to rub against her drenched center as I leaned my chest against her and reached around to knead her breast with my free hand, “I think you like watching me touch myself, don’t you honey?”

She sucked in a sharp breath at the contact as she pressed against me for more friction, “I like how you look at me when you do it. I can tell you’re thinking about all the different ways you want me.”

I chuckled and mumbled, “You’re not wrong” against her shoulder as I notched the head at her entrance and began to slowly sink in. I gave her a moment to adjust. She hummed out a sigh as she nuzzled her cheek against mine. My hands moved back to her hips and gripped them firmly, “You sure this is what you want, Kitten? It won’t be gentle.”

I felt her clench around me, my words seeming to excite her.

“I’m sure. Don’t hold back, please.”

She was damn near begging. It almost sent me over the edge. I had to take the first few thrusts slowly until I gained my focus back. On the fourth, my fingers dug into the meaty flesh of her hips to hold her in place as I slammed into her. She lurched forward slightly, crying out in surprise at the intensity. I paused, assessing her for a moment. A lazy smile spread across her face as she pushed back against me to keep going.

I set a steady pace causing Kat to whimper loudly with each vigorous thrust. The sounds of our heavy pants and flesh smacking together filled the room as her right hand flew up to her mouth in an attempt to muffle some of the sound, eventually digging her teeth into her palm as she fought to contain herself. As she began to push backward against me to meet my thrusts, I could tell she was losing her composure. My right hand glided up her back, twisting in the hair at the nape of her neck as the other snaked around her waist to pull her flush against me. My fingers tightened in her locks, turning her face to meet mine. She kissed me in a libidinous way. I could feel it throughout my entire body, causing it to hum with electricity. I completely lost myself and my awareness as my craving for more of her intensified.

I suddenly pulled out of her, causing whines of protest as I spun her around to face me and lifted her up onto the edge of the vanity. I wasted no time sinking back into her wet heat, pulling her closer and tilting her hips downward to get the friction where she needed it most. It was almost frantic between us now as our mouths crashed together, swallowing the grunts and moans that escaped with each forceful thrust that had her bouncing against me. Her hands found their way to the inside of my robe, sliding up my back before her nails dug in deep just as she tensed around me. She buried her face into the crook of my neck as she came with a deep moan that she tried hard to contain.

She finally raised her head to look at me with watery eyes. Her face was flushed and sweaty as she leaned her forehead against mine with a satisfied smile as I continued to drive into her with the same vigor. I could feel my release building as she wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me in closer. I wasted no time burying my face into her chest, groaning loudly and whimpering as I came inside of her.

She held me for a few minutes, scratching at the nape of my neck and down my back as my hands wandered up and down the sides of her body. We were both dripping with sweat as we waited for our breathing and heart rates to return to normal levels. This that came after is what made everything different with her. The intimate moments spent touching, feeling, and sharing our emotional connection was my favorite part. I wanted it to last forever.

I eventually pulled away, looking up at her with soft eyes as I brushed her hair back. Part of me suddenly felt guilty for manhandling her the way that I just had.

“I want you to come home with me tonight so I can take care of you. That was rough, I wanna make sure you don’t start hurting from it.”

She gave me a small smile, “It wasn't too much. I'm more than OK. Really.”

I sighed, “Then…just… humor me. Please?”

Her legs tightened around my waist as her smile widened. “And how do you plan to take care of me?” she asked with an amused tone.

I pursed my lips in thought, “Hmmm, well, I’ll make you a fucking fantastic dinner while you relax on the couch and keep Zee occupied.”

She hugged me a little tighter, “Hmmm, I could get behind that.”

My lips found her throat, placing gentle kisses between my words, “Then I’ll run you a hot bath…maybe join you…massage your hips….legs…and feet…make you come again…then have a nice cuddle as we fall asleep.”

I could hear the smile in her voice, “Speaking of foot massages and coming…”

Busted. I glanced up at her with a sheepish smile, “What of it?”

She caressed my jaw with a smirk, “Did you know what you were doing to me in New York, with the foot rub?”

I snickered, hiding my face in the curve of her neck, “I’m aware that some people can have an orgasm from a foot massage. I had a thing with a massage therapist once and he taught me how to do it. It wasn’t intentional…initially…but then you didn’t stop me, so I just went with it…”

I felt a low chuckle rumbling in her chest, “You little shit.”

I smiled against her skin, “Scold me all you want honey, but you looked like you were about to jump me. I knew it was only a matter of time.”

She laughed against the top of my head, “The underwear selfie took it over the top. I took a screenshot of that, just so you know…”

I couldn’t help the howl of laughter that ripped through me, “I had a feeling you enjoyed that. I took it for you, ya know…and you did not disappoint.”

She hummed out a quiet laugh, “Yeah, that’s the reason the vibrator ended up under my pillow.”

The memory of using said vibrator on her danced through my mind, causing my dick to twitch inside of her. She pulled back to look at me with a smile, “I felt that.”

I shifted and pulled out of her with a groan, “Yeah, I need to get you home before he wakes up again.”

She chuckled as I lowered her to the floor. I took off my robe and wrapped it around her shoulders with a smirk, “You might need that. Can’t have you walking down the hallway naked.”

She shook her head with a smile as she tied it shut, watching me throw on jeans and a t-shirt. I quickly packed up the few items I needed, then motioned for her to lead the way to her dressing room.

There were still people milling around in the hallway. Most seemed oblivious to the activities that had just taken place on the other side of the door, except for Anika, who was standing across the hall chatting with one of the other professional dancers. They were both watching us with odd expressions as we exited my dressing room. I couldn’t help wondering if they heard something.

Kat shocked me a little, noticing their attention, she responded with a wide smile, telling them to have a good evening as she literally strutted down to her dressing room. I followed her with a cheesy grin, never taking my eyes off her. It had to be obvious something just went down, but I sort of didn’t care.

Kat was quick to get changed. She moved around the room to gather up her things, giving me a shy smile every time our gazes met. The electricity was still humming between us at higher levels than normal, and it was driving me insane. I needed her again, but in a different way - softer, slower, and more sensual. I wanted to worship every inch of her body, then wrap her up in my arms and never let go.

Once she was packed up, we made our way out to our vehicles. She followed me home where I did everything for her that I promised I would…and more.

Next: Week 7

Be sure to check out the fun Plant Dad Dieter extra at the end of the A/N.

A/N: Whew! Ok. That one was a beast. I know...I have a problem.

Anyway...so did the Alec thing go down like you thought it would? Are we super pissed at Kat for the way she is handling it? Or do we support her plan of rubbing it all in Alec's face? Trust me when I say he's got more coming to him.

We got a lot of domestic Dieter and Kat (and Zee 🐈‍⬛) this chapter. How do we think each of them is handling things so far? Our poor guy is trying really hard and being super sweet. I want to cuddle him.

We got some new tidbits of information on Dieter during his therapy session. We will get the full story next chapter. Any theories?

Y'all ready for some Instagram Lives? Neither is Dieter. Doesn't mean he won't suddenly be inspired to give it a try a couple of chapters from now though. You'll probably need a tissue for that. 😬

How do we feel about his agent wanting to use Kat for publicity? Did Dieter make the right call on that?

And lastly...sexy time in the dressing room. These two are something else. How long until they are open about their relationship do you think? Can we also take a minute to appreciate Dieter taking charge and showing Kat a little something new? 😂

👉Because I'm a total whore for a good Argentine Tango, I bring you two super sexy videos. The first one in particular heavily influenced the vibes for Dieter and Kat's performance for this chapter.

Video 1 🎥

Video 2 🎥

👉In case you missed the post, I forgot to include the "Plant Daddy Era" t-shirt for SNL in the last chapter. I made sure to give it a mention in this one and also bring you a fun edit. Please enjoy. #PlantsBeforePants😅

CP Taglist: @titlee78 @legendary-pink-dot @survivingandenduring @wannab-urs @harriedandharassed

@hisandsnakes @misstokyo7love @readingiskeepingmegoing @runningmom94 @sin-djarin

@cakipy-blog @missladym1981 @guelyury @weho2kcmo @alokaerza

@girlofchaos @trulybetty @rhoorl @bitchwitch1981 @madnessofadaydreamer

@darkheartgatita @jazzloveslatte @timpletance @musings-of-a-rose @samiamproductions

@myloveistoolittle @for-a-longlongtime @copperhalfcent @auteurdelabre @drewharrisonwriter

@burntheedges @stevie75 @bunniboo0015 @quicax3 @jackie923

@sherala007 @pastelnap @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @jessthebaker @rebel-held

@gwendibleywrites @senorabond @annalovesflorida @sandaltoesocks @katw474

@txlady37 @inkmonster21 @sunnytuliptime @jeewrites @fifitheragertot

@pasc4lfuzz @toomanystoriessolittletime @tintinn16 @lizzie-cakes @insomniacdreammerbb

@peepawispunk @pedrostories @dieterbravobrainrotclub

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal characters #dieter bravo #dancing dieter #kat likes to grab things…🤷🏻‍♀️

163 notes · View notes