#all i want for christmas is two shots of vodka | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ltbarnes · 1 year ago

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‘Tis the Damn Season

Stark U #6

Summary: It’s Christmas Eve, you’re too drunk, you’ve basically avoided Bucky and Steve for six months and the last person you’d want to meet at this party just happens to be yelling in your face. The panic attack is inevitable, really.

Pairing: college!Steve Rogers x reader, college!Bucky Barnes x reader, college!Sam Wilson x reader, college!Natasha Romanoff x reader

Word count: 7.8k

Warnings: so much angst, past SA, alcohol, talk about violence, Christmas celebrations, things finally start to happen, kissing :)

A/N: Happy holidays to anyone who celebrates and to those who don’t, I hope you have a good few days anyways <3 This is the first I’ve posted since July which is awful of me so sorry

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

You didn't see them all summer. The day after your last exam was over, you bolted back to your hometown and spent the entire summer selectively ignoring messages from Bucky and Natasha and Steve and Sam asking what you were doing and how your summer was going and maybe you could all meet up and go somewhere and—

It's December now, and every goddamn day since June you have been trying to figure out if what Bucky said to you when you were sick was a fever-induced hallucination or if he really, actually, said that he wanted you to take his last name someday. It made you panic, because the entire spring term you tried to convince yourself that your feelings towards them were batshit crazy and any inkling to them feeling the same was a delusional reach, grasping for crumbs that in reality were just friendly gestures. And then he says that.

"She's just practicing her future last name, Stevie."

So, yeah...things have been weird. Three months have passed since classes started and none of you want to mention what happened right before summer break. Actually, with each day passing you feel more like maybe it was just a hallucination or a very vivid dream, because both Bucky and Steve act like it never even happened. Bucky even had his mouth latched onto some blonde sophomore at a dumb, stupid frat party on Halloween. You went home right after and cried for two hours. But it's not hard to conclude that even if there was some spark or connection or anything beyond friendship with either of them before summer, it has died out completely.

The subject will probably never be broached. You're too scared of confrontation and definitely too scared of revealing unreciprocated feelings for that to happen. The slightly tense atmosphere in the loft is entirely your fault—your lack of communication with anyone in the group during the summer has made them a little confused, you guess. You mostly spend time in your room, giving excuses of studying and talking with parents on the phone and 'I'm just tired, sorry'.

Spending too much time with Natasha scares you too, because she reads you so well and you don't want her to know how hurt and unhappily in love you are. She'll try to do something about it and then Steve and Bucky will catch on and then you will end up rejected and labeled as crazy, because who the fuck falls in love with two people?

That doesn't mean you've managed to avoid her. Living in the same apartment as her definitely makes that hard, but just the fact that she won't let you makes it impossible. Last week she even broke into your room when you had it locked, because apparently she knows how to pick a lock open in under ten seconds. She absolutely knows something is off, but so far she hasn't brought it up.

Natasha is the sole reason why you're now standing in the backyard of some rich kid's house just off campus, surrounded by smoke from cheap cigarettes and fairy lights hung up between the trees and one too many shots of vodka in your blood. It's December utterly and thoroughly—there's snow on the ground but people still haven't accepted the fact that wearing their short dresses and tank tops without jackets does not work anymore. Ice drops hangs from the tree where you stand, listening to Natasha talk with a drunken girl looking for her phone.

It's fun, sure. Not the worst party you've been to and not the best either. You talked to the girl you've been sitting next to in History class earlier for almost twenty minutes. Got free vodka. It's Friday and you don't have any exams to study for. None of that makes you forget that things aren't the same.

"Nat. Nat." You poke her shoulder repeatedly, obnoxiously probably, until she glances over her shoulder with a slight glare.

"What is it?"

"I'm gonna get 'nother drink. Inside," you tell her, pointing with your thumb towards a hedge even though it was meant to be the door. Natasha seems to understand anyway.

"Okay. Don't wander off too long. And come back here right after."

"Yes, ma'am." You give her a half-assed salute before turning around, swaying slightly in your step. It's the uneven and slippery surface of the snow-covered ground, you tell yourself.

There's a lot of people here, is what you note as you push yourself through the seemingly endless crowds of the living room. You kind of hate that they haven't played a single song you like and if Steve was here he would agree, because he doesn't listen to any music made after the internet was born. Bucky would then make fun of Steve and you would laugh and everything would be right in the world. Instead you're pressed to kitchen drawers of a dark kitchen, cheap vodka mixed with soda running down your throat.

The kitchen is crowded too, but either way it's a respite from whatever the hell's going on in the living room. Jumping up and down and calling it dancing (you were doing the same the hour before). You're too drunk to be miserable about everything happening in your life this entire term and much too drunk to feel the absolute atrocious taste of your drink.

In half an hour you will probably throw up and tomorrow will be spent nursing a horrible hangover, but those consequences seem insignificant right now. You just keep thinking about the image of Bucky shoving his tongue down someone's throat that wasn't yours. It was heartbreaking. That he's not here is a good thing, because you'd either witness the same thing again or actually bring it up to him, and that's much worse. God knows it's only a matter of time before Steve does the same thing.

Someone pushes into you, forcing the liquid from your cup to spill from the confines of the red plastic onto your dress. It's black, so it doesn't really matter, but the alcohol still seeps through the fabric until it reaches your skin.

"Shit, fuck—"

Your hand tries to somehow dry your dress by fanning the fabric, which obviously doesn't help very much, and the paper towels placed on the counter in front of you escape your drunken mind completely.

Fresh air and icy winter winds are the only options, so you push through and stumble into people on your way outside. It takes a lot longer than it should. You can't really see much considering the dizziness and darkness inside, but somehow, magically, you are eventually dragging your way towards Natasha who stands in the same place as before.

"Nat. Natty—I spilled. Look."

The black dress with the now wet patch is lifted towards her by your hands, highlighted for her to see. You sway as you tell her.

"Jesus, you can barely stand straight," Natasha answers with a stabling hand to your shoulder, shaking her head to herself instead of focusing on the very urgent fact that you spilled on yourself.

Natasha turns to the girl she's talking to, saying something you can't bother to decipher, before stepping aside with a guiding arm around you.

"We gotta get you home before you embarrass yourself for real," she mumbles underneath her breath.

"I heard that," you whisper, a loud hiccup following. Whoops.

She rolls her eyes, fishing her phone up from her pocket.

"Who—who you writing? To?" you ask, slightly aware that your sentences lack correct structure but not really caring. As long as the message comes across, right?

"I'm texting Steve. I can't drive and you sure as hell can't."

Even in your state, panic instantly sets in over the mention of his name even though you live in the same goddamn apartment.

"Nooo. No Steve."

Your hand grasps for her phone. Nat pulls it away from your reach much quicker than you can comprehend.

"Yes Steve. You're a mess and he's the only one with the patience to take care of this level of drunk. I don't care that you're avoiding them for some stupid goddamn reason," she tells you.

"Nat," you whine. "He can't see me. I spilled!"

She just glares at you. "I swear to god, Y/n...nobody cares that you spilled your drink. I can't even see it."

"I'm so drunk!"

"Yeah, I know. Just—just stay here, okay? I'm going to get you some water so you can sober up by the time your precious Steve comes for us."

Natasha is heading inside before you can process her words. Waiting in place for a few minutes turns into an eternity in your mind. She should know better than to leave you unattended and then expect you to stay—really, it's her own fault. You will accept no blame if Nat gets mad at you for going inside again. It's cold and you need to go to the bathroom. Also, you're mad at her. Telling Steve to come get you? That's just...embarrassing.

Once again you're shouldering your way past people on about the same level of intoxication as you. There's a bad remix of a Christmas song playing loudly. Makes you wanna punch whoever's phone is connected to the speaker. The bathroom is so, so far away. It's something the architect of this house should've thought of before he put it at the very end of this long hallway you're currently making your way through, but clearly he didn't have you in mind.

"Fuck! Watch where you're going, asshole," some girl seethes at you as your shoulder nudges against hers. A nudge is an exaggeration—you brushed against it at most. She's probably an aggressive drunk, that's all.

You don't answer, instead fumbling for the door handle to what you believe might be the bathroom. Some couple is making out in here, the girl with her ass planted on the edge of the bathtub and the guy nearly devouring her face. Doesn't look very pleasant, if you're honest.

"Out. I need to pee."

Your hands find their way to their shoulders, ushering the lovesick pair out of the room without much protest from either of them. They're still making out as they walk out.

Despite your less than sober state, you manage to remember to lock the door after they leave. Some of the mascara that previously inhabited your lashes has moved down to rest under your eyes. You rub it away, smudging it slightly, but it just makes you look a little more like one of those cool girls you always see on campus. It will do.

You kind of want to throw up, but decide against it. That hasn't happened since you were a freshman, and you'd like to keep it that way. Staring at yourself in the mirror occupies your time in the bathroom instead, swaying slightly with your hands placed on the cold sink. If Steve saw you now he would be so disappointed. At least you imagine he would be—that fatherly look on his face as he tells you how you need to be more mindful with your alcohol consumption. Did you even watch who poured your drink? Never go anywhere alone at a party. Especially not a frat one. You know better than this, Y/n.

Steve's imaginary voice is interrupted by someone banging on the door, shouting for you to hurry the fuck up. It's been over ten minutes, but to you it just feels like three, and Natasha has been looking for you ever since she returned to the garden with a glass of water in her hand and no one to give it to. It's not her banging on the door, unfortunately, but instead a dickhead guy who has no patience. Can't a girl spend some time alone in the bathroom doing nothing anymore?

The guy glares at you as you push the door open, stumbling out into the crowded hallway while paying him no mind. It's dark save for the red LED-lights plastered on the walls, making it feel like a seedy dive bar instead of a seedy house. You don't see much.

"Hey! Hey, you—the girl with the black dress!"

Someone pushes their way past the people talking and making out and leaning against the walls, shoving through them as he searches for your attention. Of course, you don't really think it's you he's after. Half of the people at this party are wearing black dresses.

A clammy hand finds purchase on your shoulder, halting you in your less than gracious steps and turning you around with ease. Head tilted back, gaze running upwards until they settle on the face of a quite attractive guy. He doesn't look pretty happy to see you. You're not very happy to see him either.

The blood drains from your face, stealing away all that alcohol-induced heat within a second as his curly hair and green eyes look down at you with that same contempt he had when Sam dragged him away from the kitchen almost a year ago. You had hoped you never had to see him again. It was a naive thing to wish for.

"Y/n, right?" he asks bitterly. You don't answer, but he takes your silence as a yes. It was probably a rhetorical question anyway. His slightly crooked nose was perfectly straight the last time you saw him. His face is committed to your memory, burned in to taunt you on sleepless nights and everytime an unknown man walks a little too closely when you're out alone. "Your little boyfriend broke my fucking nose. You know that?"

Another rhetorical question. Definitely more threatening. Might be the tight grip he has on your arm too. Either way, his mere presence has apparently stripped away your ability to breathe normally. It feels like you've been running to the point of nausea, dark spots dancing before your eyes as he shakes you in attempt to get an answer.

"You ruined my fucking reputation. For what? I barely touched you. Such a sensitive fucking bitch, going around telling everyone that..." His voice trails off, ushering you into a quiet corner when he realizes people are staring. "Got nothing to say now, huh? Been so good at running your fucking mouth before, haven't you?"

"Let me go," you whisper, voice wavering. You don't sound assertive at all, instead weak and fearful. It's what you feel, as an upbeat, slightly bad cover rendition of "All I Want For Christmas" booms through the house. Girls shrieking in excitement over in the living room reaches your ears. You would have joined them if you weren't currently cornered by the guy who assaulted you in your own kitchen a year ago.

"No, we're going to fucking talk. What the fuck were you doing, going around saying shit like that about me to everyone?"

"I...I didn't..." Your lips part between words, breathing out shakily, trying to articulate sentences long enough to make sense. Why can't you speak? Why can't you even think?

"You didn't what?" he seethes. "You're such a fucking bitch, you know that? Acts all innocent and hides behind her friends. My nose is fucking crooked forever because of that fuckhead you sent after me."

Is it the alcohol that renders you this goddamn useless? There's just tears springing to your eyes, unable to say anything in defense of yourself. Can't even walk away.

He pushes you against the wall, knocking the breath out of you. To other people it probably looks like you're hooking up. At least that's what you hope they think, because otherwise you want to wonder why no one is intervening.

"Joshua, please let me go," you tell him again, even more pathetic this time. You're crying now, curled in on yourself in attempt to make yourself as small as possible.

"Fuck, you're so—"

"She told you to let her go."

The assertive, familiar tone booms through the hallway. It doesn't really, can probably only be heard by the people around you, but it feels like it when Steve's tall figure pushes through with hasty steps towards where you and Joshua stand, followed by a glaring Bucky with his jaw clenched so fucking tightly. A sob of relief is drawn from your lips, muffled by the back of your hand.

Joshua steps back instantly. Kind of funny to think that he's so scared of those two, and sad to think that he only respects a 'no' when it comes from men.

"Nice nose job," Bucky speaks up, pointing at his own nose as he stares at Joshua's crooked one, courtesy of the damn good punch he managed to land with his left fist all those months ago.

"Fuck you," Joshua growls, taking a step forward in attempt to appear more threatening or something. He doesn't really succeed—both Bucky and Steve towers over him in both length and build, unrelenting in their stance. As if they're stone walls keeping out the enemy.

Steve rolls his his eyes, shaking his head with a sigh. "Just get out of here. Don't go near her ever again, you hear me? Bucky's glad to fix your nose otherwise. Break it right back. Can't promise the result will be very good, though."

Bucky stands slightly behind Steve, raising an eyebrow in Joshua's direction that tells him there's not even a trace of a lie in the blonde giant's statement.

"You—fuck this." Joshua throws his hands in the air, aiming the most distasteful glare over his shoulder in your direction, before pushing past Steve and Bucky with a shove.

Your body instantly deflates, the tension melting off your limbs as you close your eyes and lean back against the wall. Gentle, firm hands instantly reach your cheeks, your arms, searching for any trace Joshua might have left behind on your body.

"Hey, hey. Y/n, are you okay? Did he touch you? Sweetheart, look at me."

Bucky's voice draws you out of the anxious, panicked state you slipped into, fluttering your eyelids open to see his worried frown and an equally worried Steve looming behind him. Wet cheeks and red-rimmed eyes greet them, pupils dilated from the alcohol.

"Y/n, are you hurt? How long have you two been talking?" Steve adds, looming over you in such a way that his large frame blocks out any of the colorful lights plastered on the walls.

They already know you're drunk—Natasha was the one to call them here to get you, after all. Maybe your silence and obvious intoxication makes it clear to them after a couple of seconds that an answer from you is a few minutes away, a few miles of distance from this foggy, packed house. Nothing more is said or requested from you. Instead your trembling form is led away and out into the biting cold by gentle hands belonging to your friends. Even your slight shock can't shield you from freezing your ass off as soon as you get out into the fresh air again, teeth beginning to chatter within the second step on tightly packed snow.

"What the—where the hell have you been? I swear to god, Y/n, I was gone for two minutes! I've been looking for you everywhere!" an angry Natasha yells, running perfectly towards the three of you down the slippery lawn to where Steve is currently helping you into the backseat of his car.

"Nat," Steve says, giving her a pleading look that silently tells her it's not the time for a scolding.

"What? I told her to stay put when I went to get her a glass of water and she just disappeared out of nowhere. Slippery motherfucker while drunk, I swear she'll be the death of me—"

"Nat," he repeats, sternly this time. In that tone only he masters, silencing even the most eager tongues with a single exhale. "She met Joshua. And she's not okay. So please, leave your yelling for tomorrow and get in the car."

Steve holds the passenger door open, gesturing for the seat beside Bucky. He's turning the key, letting the car warm up properly while he clutches the wheel tightly. Natasha's irritated frown turns into a concerned one, nodding silently before slipping inside. Steve closes the door shut behind her.

You lean your head against the frost-covered window, fogged up by your breath two inches away from it, and close your eyes. Steve leans over you, reaching for the belt and fastens it over your torso. You forgot. He never does.

It's no surprise, doesn't startle you despite your absentminded state, when his warm hand cups your cheek, turns your head to face him. Soft, blue gaze and ridiculously long lashes. It's nothing but contrasting against the clouds released from your mouths with each breath—warm, concerned...loving? Maybe.

"Are you okay?" he whispers, thumb rubbing over your cheek.

You nod. "Yes. I am now."

Bucky puts his foot on the gas, turns on the blinker, and pulls away from the curb, out onto the streets. It's nearly soundless. The usual rumble from wheels against road is cushioned by the snow.

"This was a mistake. Sorry, I can't—" Sam gags, moving his head out of the bathroom before returning his presence within a few seconds. "You're a real shitty guard, Nat. Why'd you let her drink this much?"

All four of your roommates are gathered in the bathroom, surrounding you as if you're a newly born lion cub in a zoo, while you puke your guts out into the toilet. Steve is kneeling on the floor beside you, a comforting hand rubbing your back, while Bucky sits a few feet away with a glass of water in hand, ready for whenever you need it.

"Fuck you. You weren't there—she was like a goddamn ghost, just slipping away everytime I blinked. Looked fucking everywhere for her. 'S not my fault," Nat answers, residing on the floor of the shower in lack of space.

"Not true," you murmur in answer, your voice echoing off the ceramic surrounding you.

You're pretty much done throwing up, it's just the exhaustion following that's keeping you slumped over on the bathroom tile. Your hand stretches out in Bucky's direction, reaching for the glass of water that's gulped down within a few seconds.

"Careful. Gonna get sick again if you do it this fast," Bucky says, unable to help himself from brushing away the stray drops of water running down your chin.

The gesture is nothing new from him. He did it when you were sick all those months ago too, and you haven't forgotten it at all. His thumb gently rubbing over your skin as if you're precious, something deserving of gentleness, is engraved into your mind. You're thankful for getting most of the alcohol out of your system, because you might not have remembered this moment in the morning if not. Fuck it if you forgot the way his pupils widen just slightly, as if he didn't mean to, as if he couldn't help himself.

"I'm fine," you whisper in answer, clearing your throat. "Got it all out."

"Good." Steve's hand moves up from your back to your head, stroking it for just a second before withdrawing his touch. "Let's get you to the couch."

"I don't wanna go to the couch. Wanna be in my bed." You're pouting. Maybe there is some trace of alcohol left in you.

"Steve and Buck will feel much less like creepy stalkers if they stare at you sleeping on the couch instead of hovering around your bedroom all night like a bunch of pervs," Natasha speaks up. A snort follows after, as if it was a joke and not a statement. Definitely tipsy too, despite unwilling to admit such a weakness.

Steve raises a reprimanding eyebrow Natasha's way, telling her to shut her mouth with just his gaze. She smirks in answer.

"Don't listen to her. A fucking liar," Bucky remarks, but there's still some form of amusement in his expression. He can't even deny the statement—he is going to watch over you. Doesn't really matter if it's in the living room or in your bedroom. "Now let's get you up. C'mon."

With a push from your arms against the cold tile, you're standing on two legs again. Steve is hovering his hand near your back, ready to support if the vodka decides to topple you over. But you're fine—just tired now.

For ten minutes it feels things are back to normal again. On the living room couch, nestled in between them, your head leaning on Steve's shoulder as a stupid Hallmark Christmas movie plays on the tv. Sam and Natasha are in their rooms sleeping, and for a few moments you forget why you kept your distance. Everything would have been good if this is how the night would end. If Steve didn't have to address the past six months.

"I've missed this. With us," Steve whispers as he strokes your shoulder absentmindedly, like it's second nature to him to have his hands on your skin. "You've been so distant lately. For months, Y/n."

The room instantly becomes tense enough to make you nauseous. A clearing of your throat, an attempt to sit up out of Steve's hold and away from this conversation that you'd much rather avoid is futile—it's instantly stopped by Bucky's hand on your chest that pushes you right back.

"No," he says sternly. "You're gonna sit right here, sweetheart, and tell us why you've barely let us see you since fall term started. 'Cause it's sure as fuck not something I take lightly. Why have you avoided us?"

You look away, shaking your head to yourself as you try to talk yourself down. You will not break. You will not confess a single thing. You are going to act like everything is fine and you are not currently freaking out being sandwiched between the only two men you would gladly be sandwiched between under different circumstances than this.

"What are you even talking about?" you answer meekly. It's clear as soon as the words come out of your mouth that no one is falling for your innocent act, not even sweet, naive Steve. Then again, you're doing a particularly bad job. "Both of you think I've been distant?"

"Cut the bullshit, Y/n. If we've done something wrong, just say so." Bucky bites his cheek, glancing down for just a second, but it's enough to let his vulnerability slip. He's hurt.

A wave of guilt instantly washes over your body, an unusual feeling. During all these months of avoiding any interaction with Bucky and Steve besides the necessary ones, you didn't think that they'd actually mind your absence that much. They might not be hopelessly in love with you like you are with them, but they're still your friends. Friends miss each other.

"Or if it's something personal, you can tell us, you know? Is it anxiety, or are you feeling generally low, or...?" Steve chips in, trying to drown out Bucky's accusatory tone.

"No, no...I'm not depressed, Steve. And none of you have done anything wrong, I promise," you say hastily, shutting down their concerns as quickly as possible while trying to buy yourself time to come up with an excuse. "I just...needed some alone time."

Bucky rolls his eyes, shaking his head. Sassy man. "Bullshit again. You've spent a bunch of time with Natasha. Sam, too. It's us you're avoiding." He points to himself and Steve with his hand. "It's been almost six months, Y/n. What the hell's your problem?" He pushes himself off the couch, standing up and blocking your view of the tv. It's as if his frustration is all contained while sitting down.

"Bucky," Steve scolds, glaring up at his friend. He's not appreciating the tone at all, that's for sure.

"There's no problem, Bucky," you tell him, shaking your head. Trying to dismiss this entire conversation before you reveal too much.

"No! Y/n, I'm going fucking crazy! This is the first time you've even let me touch you in half a year!" Bucky yells, a pleading tone in his voice that breaks your heart just a little. Because it's true. You have barely even hugged since June. You've barely talked for more than five minutes at a time.

"Don't yell at her, for god's sake, Bucky," Steve adds, his hands on your shoulders and ready to get up from the couch any second.

"What the hell's going on with you, huh?!" Bucky continues, ignoring Steve's statement. His eyes are solely focused on you, void of the usual softness. There's just anger. "Cause if you can't stand us, then tough fucking luck. I can have your fucking things moved out by tomorrow for all I care. Can move right into Walker's dorm. Bet he'd accept you with open fucking arms if you get to your knees and—“

The drop of your heart down to your stomach can almost be heard, an echoing, hollow sound. You're sure of it. Bucky shuts his mouth, as if he realizes what exactly was about to come out of it. What is not even a second of silence feels like a whole minute, before Steve shoots up from his seat beside you and grabs Bucky by the collar, rattling the whole room with the force in which he nearly tackles Bucky against the wall with. The tangy taste of iron starts to fill your mouth, your teeth biting down on your lip hard enough to draw blood. There's tears lingering in your eyes but you can't hold them back, not anymore.

"You don't fucking talk to her like that, you bast—"

"I love you! It’s ‘cause I fucking love you guys!” you yell, a pathetic sob marring the words. “So I’m fucking sorry that I’ve avoided you two but I’m trying to get over these goddamn—these feelings, but I can’t, okay! I can’t!”

The bitter delivery is punctuated by the sleeve of your sweater wiping away the tears furiously, cutting Steve off and drawing both of their wild eyes towards your figure now standing up, just a minute away from a complete breakdown. You don't even process the fact that Steve cursed. It would've been teased about endlessly in any other situation.

"I will go. I'll leave if that's what you want," you seethe with a voice so unsteady that it's almost unbearable to listen to. "But I don’t hate any of you. I don’t, and I get why you’re mad. But fuck you, Bucky. Fuck you for saying that.”

More tears fall. It's futile to wipe them away when they'll be replaced the second after. You want to say more, hit Bucky where it hurts, but you cannot get the goddamn words to form on your lips. Opening your mouth and closing it again, shaking your head, comes before hastily walking towards your room and locking yourself inside without giving them a chance to answer.

As soon as the door is slammed shut, your hand comes up to your mouth to muffle the sobs. Sinking down to the floor as if you’re in a movie, forehead resting against your knees. The rate of your heartbeats could be considered dangerously high, but you just blurted out a whole love confession for two of your roommates in the midst of a fight. How the hell could everything turn to shit so quickly? Half an hour ago all of you were joking around in the bathroom, and now you're not sure you have the courage to face any of them again.

It's a rash, impulsive decision fueled by anger and betrayal and shame, but you rush over to your closet and pull out an overnight bag that's soon filled to the brim with enough things to last you a few days. You're crying the entire time.

When you pass the living room again, Bucky isn't there anymore. But Steve is. Barely a glance his way is spared, with hasty steps heading towards the hallway. You remind yourself of a furious toddler when you angrily put on your jacket, stick your feet into your winter boots. The bag is slung over your shoulder, hand resting on the door handle.

"Don't go. Y/n, please don't leave."

Steve stands at the other side of the hallway, a broken down expression on his pretty face.

"Bucky went out of line, but he didn't mean it, I swear. He's just too prideful to admit it," he continues. You shake your head, biting down on your bottom lip. "Please, honey. It’s Christmas Eve. It won’t be the same if you’re not here tomorrow.”

"I just need some space," you whisper, brushing away a stray tear with the sleeve of your jacket. You’re so embarrassed and hurt that you can barely look him in the eye. "I can't be in the same apartment as him right now."

Steve sighs, looking about ready to just throw you over his shoulder to get you to stay. But he won't do that. That's not Steve. So instead he glances down to the floor, shaking his head to himself.

“Did you mean it?” he asks softly. “The thing about—you said you loved us. Did you mean it?”

It takes a few seconds before you nod tentatively, sniffling and keeping your gaze on a spot past Steve. He doesn’t say anything.

Steve gathers courage enough to walk up to where you stand by the door, grabbing your cheeks with his hands, thumb running over the tear-stained skin gently. For a few moments, he just looks at you. Loud thoughts running amok in that perfect head of his.

“Nothing I say right now will do my feelings any justice, so I’m gonna save any big speeches for tomorrow. But just…stay. It’s 2 am, it’s freezing out and you’re still drunk. I don’t want you out there on the streets alone. I need you to stay, even if it’s only for your own safety. Don’t have to talk to any of us if you don’t want to.”

His words makes you nod automatically. All it took was his hands on your skin and the flicker of hope his words ignite in your chest, and you conceded within a second. No hesitation left in that exhausted body of yours. He‘s not saying outright that your feelings are requited, but it doesn’t feel like a rejection either. He doesn’t seem disgusted by your confession, by the knowledge that you’re in love with both him and his best friend.

“Good girl. Let’s just—let’s get you to bed, okay?”Steve tells you, squeezing your shoulder gently. With your confirmation in form of another silent nod, he nestles the bag out of your grip and takes off the jacket from your torso.

The bed feels so soft and warm and comforting when you lie down. Steve tucks you in. It’s achingly sweet and you don’t really deserve it after avoiding him and Bucky like that for so long, but he looks out for you nonetheless.

“Steve,” you whisper, drawing his gaze up to meet yours. “I’m sorry. For being so distant.”

He shakes his head. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You were scared,” Steve answers. “Don’t worry about anything, okay? Get some sleep. You’ve had a tough night, Y/n.”

The softest of smiles grazes your lips, puppy eyes gazing up at Steve. Your wonderful, caring, perfect Steve.

“Are you alright? It must’ve been hard meeting Joshua again. And what Bucky said, it…it was far from okay.”

“I will be,” you whisper.

He nods, observes your face for a few seconds. Leans down to press a kiss to your forehead—what kind of college guy even does that? And then he leaves the room, turning the light off behind him.

You’re woken up by a red headed, crazy woman sitting on top of you over the sheets, shaking your shoulders.

“Wake up, fuckhead. You’re gonna open the presents I got you,” Natasha urges, grinning down at you as you blink your eyes open, groaning.

“Fuckhead?” you ask, a tired chuckle from your lips as Natasha climbs off the bed.

“Yes. Don’t like it, huh?” she teases. “C’mon. The guys are already waiting.”

With slow steps and a loud yawn, the slightest trace of a hangover plaguing your body, you drag yourself out into the living room. Around the ugly, little tree that Sam insisted on cutting down from the campus gardens last week (he almost got arrested by the security guards) the three boys sit. Your gaze falls to the floor, scratching the skin right above your lip nervously, once Bucky looks up at you. Can’t really read his expression, but you figure you’ll lay the fight aside for the day. It’s Christmas, after all.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” Steve says, urging you to sit down next to him right there on the carpet. You offer a soft smile, and an even softer ‘Merry Christmas’ back. You’re still unsure about yesterday. Despite there being no rejection from either of them, the uncertainty is kind of killing you. A pit of anxiety rests in your stomach, an uneasy feeling corrupting every cell as you sit down on the floor next to Steve.

Not even ten minutes later, the living room is drowning in a sea of wrapping paper. Natasha went overboard with the gift shopping this year, it seems like, but her absent father is also some kind of Russian oligarch or something so she tends to use up as much of his money as she can. You’re not complaining.

The special edition of The Hobbit, signed by the director of the movie, that you managed to get on eBay and cost you a fucking fortune is received with a whispered ‘thank you’ from Bucky. He holds it in his hands tightly, staring down at the book without a word, and you don’t know if he’s happy for it. Maybe he’s not happy with anything touched by you at this moment. He hasn’t gotten you a gift, it seems like, or maybe he threw it in the trash and burned it yesterday.

Steve got you three books that he’d heard you say you wanted months ago, and a dainty silver necklace with a bee pendant hanging from it. “You know, uh, I usually call you ‘honey’ and I thought it was a little funny, maybe. But I can exchange it if you don’t like it. It’s no problem,” he had said, even though there were tears of gratitude in your eyes. Your arms were thrown around him a second later, hugging him tightly as you thanked him profusely for the most thoughtful gift.

Now you’re leaning your back against the couch, still on the floor, watching as Sam and Natasha are tinkering with his new Nintendo Switch that he got from her (overboard with the gifts, as previously mentioned). He’s so happy it almost makes you zoned out as you watch his childlike excitement. It’s nice to see the two of them so calm and sweet with each other too. Usually bickering and getting on each other’s nerves all the time otherwise.

“Y/n, can we talk?”

Your head tilts back, looking up at Bucky standing nervously in front of you, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. There’s a deep hesitation within you, a pride that wants to say no and remain in your angry state forever without confrontation. But it’s Bucky. You hate this animosity between the two of you, the tension. Despite being pissed off and hurt and afraid that he doesn’t want you, you can’t say no, so you nod and push yourself up to a stand.

Bucky closes the door to his room behind him gently, clearing his throat and looking at anything but you. A sigh comes out of his mouth, shaking his head, before he parts his lips to speak.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n. What I said was disgusting and unforgivable and so fucking out of line. You didn’t deserve that at all. So out of proportion to what I was mad at you for,” Bucky says, running the palm of his calloused hand over his face.

“It was,” you answer honestly. There’s no use in denying that what Bucky said was stupidly hurtful. He nods, looking away from your gaze.

“It made me angry thinking that you ignored me, because at first I didn’t know what I had done, you know? And then I thought for a few months that me and Steve had been too overbearing and that you tried to keep your distance because you thought we were annoying or something. But that’s not the case. I should’ve known better by now than to think that you would do anything to purposely hurt us.”

You gulp, nodding, looking down to the floor. “I’m sorry too,” you whisper. “I didn’t know that you guys thought I had something against you until last night. Obviously, you…you know now that’s not the case,” you tell him, embracing yourself with your arms. “But last night, Bucky, I…you hurt me. I know you were angry, but saying those kind of things isn’t okay.”

“I know that. God, I know, Y/n. I’m so sorry. It was fucking childish of me, retorting to saying that Jo—“ Bucky shakes his head, hands coming up to tug at the roots of his hair. “And it felt stupid giving you that present in front of everyone, so now you think I didn’t get you anything, too, and—“

“You got me a present?”

“Yes. Of course I did, Y/n. But I saw how much Natasha had bought and that necklace Steve gave you and my gift felt stupid in comparison to that. Just didn’t want to give it to you in front of everyone,” he says, a little awkwardly. A little boy giving his mother a drawing he made in kindergarten, he reminds you of.

“Bucky…that doesn’t matter. I don’t care what you have gotten me. I’ll like it no matter what if it’s from you.”

He shifts in his place, contemplating something, before picking up a sweater on his bed, revealing a wrapped present hidden underneath. Bucky took the gift from the pile without anyone noticing before, throwing it into his room so no one would see.

With a tentative hand, he reaches it out to you. Doesn’t watch as you unwrap it, instead biting on his thumbnail. You reprimand him for it, and the hand returns to his side.

“Is it a book?” You run your fingers over the cover, a hardcover with nothing on it. Blank.

“It’s a photo album. Shit, it’s stupid. I don’t know,” Bucky answers, looking about ready to snatch it back, but you open the first page up before he has a chance to.

A picture of you, Natasha, Sam and Steve on the first page. It was taken last year in November. You’re all running after one of Sam’s model planes, fall leaves singling down from the sky. It’s a beautiful picture.

“4 grown idiots running after a kid’s toy - November 12th, 2022”

“It’s just pics I’ve taken with my phone, so it’s nothing artsy or anything, but…uhm.” Bucky runs his hand through his short, brown hair.

You flip the page. You’re looking out through the kitchen window, the sun shining through and casting shadows over the room and your figure curled up on the chair.

“Angel in the sun - March 25th, 2023”

A soft chuckle is drawn from your lips, resisting the urge to run your finger over the photo, but you don’t want to smudge the blank paper. On the same page there’s another picture of you with your arms around Natasha’s shoulders, nearly wrestling her to the ground with the force of your hug. You look so happy.

Bucky looks nervous as you glance up from the photo album at him. “Know it’s not much, but…yeah.”

A loud huff of hair escapes Bucky as you throw your arms around him. It takes a second or two for him to hug you back, but he soon has his chin resting on top of your head, arms around your waist.

“I love it,” you whisper, holding onto him tightly enough to constrict his breathing.

“You do? I can take it back if you don’t like it.”

Your grip around him releases, arms coming down to your sides so you can take a step back and look him in the eyes. “This is everything, Bucky,” you say softly, feeling a lump in your throat that can turn into tears any second. “The fact that you took the time to make this for me is just…it’s the most thoughtful thing ever. And these pictures are so beautiful, Bucky, and just the thought of you sitting down and glueing them onto the page and writing captions and—“

His lips against yours. Oh god. Oh my god, Bucky has his lips pressed against yours. Gentle hands hold your jaw, his head leaning down to compensate for the height difference, and Bucky Barnes is kissing you with urgency and desperation.

The shock is enough to make you unable to return the kiss. He seems to take your surprise as rejection despite the fact that you literally yelled ‘I love you’ in his face last night. Bucky steps away and takes his hands off your skin, running his hand over his mouth, shaking his head.

“I’m so sorry, don’t know what the hell came over me, I—“

On your tiptoes, fingers grabbing his sweatshirt to pull him closer, and you nearly smash your lips against his to shut up any of that doubt he carries. It’s not a graceful or very romantic kiss, but by the sound akin to a very mild growl that comes from Bucky and his hands sliding down to your waist to pull you closer, you guess he likes it anyway.

It doesn’t last more than 20 seconds. A harsh knock on the door to Bucky’s room interrupts it, forcing you part from his lips and get down from your tiptoes again.

“What the hell are you doing in there? C’mon! I’ve made goddamn Christmas brunch!” Sam yells, drawing a soft chuckle from your lips as your forehead meets Bucky’s chest.

With a soft smile, nothing said, you back away from Bucky. Slipping out of his room and leaving him there all flustered and semi-hard from a 20 second make-out session. The first ever between you, though. He thinks it’s pretty understandable.

As Bucky follows you into the kitchen, sitting down at the table by Steve, he leans towards his best friend and whispers into his ear low enough to make anyone else unable to hear.

“I kissed her, Stevie,” Bucky says with a shit eating grin on his face. “I finally fucking kissed her.”

The blond man turns his head enough to look over at Bucky, the red flush of his cheeks and ears enough to tell anyone what’s been said.

“Are you serious?” Steve asks.

“I kissed her and she kissed me back, I swear. I gave her that photo album I’ve worked on for weeks. She said she loved it, Steve.”

“I guess it’s my turn then, isn’t it?” Steve answers, a shy smile on his lips as the two of them watch you sit down opposite of them at the table, glancing through the window out at the heavy snowfall. Natasha puts a newly toasted bagel on your plate.

“Go get our girl, Stevie.”

#stark u #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes angst #sam wilson x reader #natasha romanoff x reader

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rebelwrites · 1 year ago

Note

being friends with pierre/any driver and meeting charles through them (whether it be at a race or at a dinner or whatever) and you immediately hit it off and exchange numbers AAAAA

Christmas Party

Charles Leclerc x Reader

I have changed the request slightly hope you don’t mind. As this is a flash fic this hasn’t been edited.

As always reblogs and feedback is highly appreciated ❤️ if you want tagging in future parts let me know ❤️

Taking one final drag of your smoke, you felt your face scrunch up in disgust. You had no idea why you had brought a fresh packet when you had quit the habit around 6 months ago. Shaking your head at yourself you tossed the cigarette butt into the small ashtray on the glass table behind you, looking over your shoulder you found yourself taking a deep breath, gaining the courage to head back inside Pierre’s apartment.

Tonight was the night of his famous Christmas party, every year you had heard all the stories that came from this one event but this was the first time in five years you were able to attend, due to your dick of an ex boyfriend trying to control your life, stopping you from spending Christmas with your best friend in Monaco. From the moment you arrived at Pierre’s you locked eyes with Charles, you were slightly confused as to how one look could get you feeling hot under the collar so to speak. You knew Charles had a bit of a reputation with the women, so any time you came to visit Pierre you made sure to avoid Leclerc.

Taking a deep breath you slipped back into the living room of the large apartment, once again locking eyes with the Monegasque, you found yourself quickly breaking eye contact, pushing your way through the bodies you made your way over to the makeshift bar for the evening.

“There you are,” Pierre hummed, wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing a kiss to the back of your head. “Where have you been hiding all night, kiddo?”

“Ain’t been hiding, P,” you shrugged, knocking back the shot of vodka, scrunching your face up at the familiar burning sensation that quickly followed. “This dress and body is too good to be hidden away!” you smirked, gesturing down to the red low cut sparkly dress that fit your body like a second skin, causing your confidence to sky rocket.

“Have you spoken to Charles yet?” he asked, keeping his hand planted on your waist.

Pierre had been your best friend for the best part of 15 years, the two of you had a close relationship to the point people were always questioning if you two were dating or not. You and Kika always got a laugh out of the news articles trying to make out Pierre was cheating on her with you.

“Nope,” you mumbled, pulling the bottle of beer to your lips. You hadn’t told Pierre that you had a small crush on Charles, mainly for the fact you knew he would try and play cupid and get the two of you together.

“Come with me, you dork,” he smirked, grabbing your hand dragging you through the apartment over to Kika and Charles.

Charles couldn’t help himself as he watched you from across the room, from the moment you arrived at the party he couldn’t stop staring. The first time you locked eyes with each other he felt like someone had just punched him in the gut, he was struggling to catch his breath. The dress you had chosen hugged your body perfectly, showing just the perfect amount of cleavage. The fact the sparkly dress was red was an added bonus for him. It was safe to say red was your color and he wanted nothing more than to see you rocking his shirt early in the morning.

Pushing the thoughts from his mind, he brought the glass to his lips, still refusing to take his eyes off you. For some reason he lost any courage he had when it came to you so he could count on one hand the amount of conversations the pair of you had.

“You know you can’t avoid him forever,” Pierre whispered in your ear as you got closer to the man in question. “I can tell you are crushing hard on him.” You were just about to protest when he shook his head at you. “Girl I saw it the moment you two first met, there is a connection there and you refuse to acknowledge it.”

“P, you know what I don’t act on any feelings,” you sighed, taking another large swig of beer trying to drown the butterflies that were invading your stomach the closer you got to Charles and Kika.

Any confidence you felt had now disappeared, your stomach was churning as you stood next to Pierre refusing to make eye contact with Charles, you kept your gaze trained on your stiletto. You had no idea why he had this effect on you, but he made you feel like a teenager drunk on love.

“How’s work going?” Charles asked, stepping close to you as Pierre moved out of the way. His body was so close to yours and it was sending your heart rate through the roof.

“Urm, it’s okay I guess,” you nodded, pulling the beer bottle to your lips. You wanted nothing more than to be able to speak to him but it was like the words kept getting stuck in your throat. “I’m going for a smoke,” you mumbled, pushing your way past Charles.

The moment you stepped outside the chill of the winter air hit your skin, you felt like such an idiot, the boy was only making conversation and you couldn’t cope, running outside to escape. Pulling a cigarette to your lips you let your eyes flutter closed as you lit the smoke.

“You got a spare?”

The voice alone sent chills down your spine, you didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Taking a long drag on the smoke you spun around on the balls of your feet, holding the open packet out in front of you. Charles smiled softly at you before taking one from the slightly crumpled box.

“Didn’t know you smoked?” you asked, rubbing your hand up your arm trying to get some warmth back into your skin, without warning suddenly you were wrapped in warmth as Charles draped his jacket over your shoulders. Neither of you said anything about the small gesture.

“I don’t smoke regularly, just every so often,” he nodded, letting the smoke hang from between his lips.

Silence fell over the two of you both, this was the first time the two of you had been alone in the same space. Turning your gaze you took in how content Charles looked, for the first time in months he actually looked relaxed. This year hadn’t been the best for him, you hated that over the course of this season you watched the sparkle in his eyes get duller each race.

“You look gorgeous in that dress by the way,” Charles said softly, gently nudging you with his elbow.

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” you said with a slight giggle.

“I have a question and you don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to,” he said, leaning against the brick wall, taking a quick drag of the smoke. “Everytime we are in the same room as each other, you always make some sort of excuse to leave, why? Have I done something to upset you?”

You knew you would have to confess at some point but you didn’t think it would be on the night before Christmas eve. Taking a deep breath you quickly lit up another cigarette taking a long drag on it before answering. “It’s stupid really,” you mumbled, trying not to let the nervousness take over. “You make me nervous, Charles.”

He stood there for a moment processing the words that had just fallen out of your mouth, a few seconds later the corners of his lips started tugging into a smirk as he pushed himself off the wall, closing the gap between the two of you.

“So that is why you have been avoiding me,” he whispered, brushing his fingers down your cheeks, you instantly felt your skin heat up from his touch. The feeling of his body pressed against yours just felt right and like it was meant to be. “Do you like me Y/N?”

The words got caught in your throat so all you could do was slowly nod your head whilst breaking eye contact with him. Charles was making you feel things you had never felt with anyone before,not even with your ex.

“Babygirl,” he breathed, placing his thumb under your chin, lifting your head up so he could see into your eyes. “For the last year I have done everything I could to gain your attention and nothing seemed to work, Y/N from the moment Pierre introduced us I felt a connection with you, but you were with that prick and I couldn’t do anything about it.”

You could hear the sadness in his voice and that caused a sharp pain in your chest. This boy had been watching from the sidelines, watching how you were treated like a piece of dirt and there was nothing he could do about it.

“Let me treat you how you should be treated,” he breathed, brushing his noses against yours, the feeling of his breath on your skin sent you into a frenzy. “I can tell you feel the connection as well.”

You couldn’t help yourself as you got lost in his green eyes, the way the moonlight was causing them to sparkle had to be one of the most beautiful sights you had ever seen.

Could you get involved with someone again? Your heart was fragile and you didn’t know if you had the strength to piece it back together when it got broken again.

“I swear, I’m not going to do anything to break your heart,” Charles whispered as if he was reading your mind. “So what do you say Y/N, wanna see where this goes?”

Taking a deep breath you finally listened to your heart, one that had been bandaged back together but in this moment it was only beating to the Monegasque that was standing in front of you.

“Only if we take things slow,” you whispered, hiding your hands in his jacket, quickly finding his phone. A small smile appeared on your face as you pulled the device from the pocket. Quickly you turned it around so the screen was facing Charles, meaning the phone unlocked, once you had access to it you punched your phone number into the keypad before hitting call. “Now you have my number,” you giggled, handing him his phone back.

“Best Christmas gift ever,” he winked, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your head before quickly taking a picture of the two of you.

You never would have thought that the one year you were finally able to attend your best friend’s Christmas party you would be getting up close and personal with the guy you had been crushing hard on.

There was magic in the air and it felt like for once Santa had finally granted your Christmas wish.

@chibsytelford @dragon-of-winterfell @ohthemisssery @a-distantdreamer @sgkophie @stillbreathin @angywritesstuff @enchantedbytomandhenry @scribbuluswrites @dangerouspursepeachbear @livo676 @buendiabebeta @ferrarifwendvale @hungryhungariann @theplobnrgone @charlesleclercje @queenslife @panicforspec @justme2042 @liv67 @derpinathebrave @clcspeonies @pleasantducktimetravel @raaaaabzzz @mehrmonga @sbgal @fangirl-lb @pitconfirmbutton @oslokij @tall-tanned-tattoo

#charles leclerc #f1 #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc fanfic

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whorekneecentral · 2 years ago

Text

december 24th - ribbons and bows // d.r3

Daniel Ricciardo x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Daniel being cheesy, two shots of vodka vibes lmao + alcohol and the consumption of, bondage/being tied up, finger sucking, penetrative sex, choking, cream pie.

Word Count: 1,335

Author’s Note: once again, sorry it’s late :) this one was fun to write tho + y’all wanted some big dic daddy ric (is that what it was? did I say that right??) so here you go

Holiday Advent Calendar

---

You just want to wrap your Christmas gifts but Daniel had other ideas; too many glasses of spiked eggnogs and you’re covered in ribbons and bow.

Christmas was fast approaching and Daniel left all the gift wrapping to the last minute, simply because he left all the shopping to the last minute. You two had just got home with the last bit of shopping and things you bought for his niece and nephew.

“I need more tape!” You shout to your husband from the living room.

Daniel returns, the tape looped over his wrist and two glasses, one is each hand, with some sort of milky content. He sits on the edge of the couch, handing you a glass before sliding the tape off to you.

“What’s this?” You smell the glass and he smiles.

“Eggnog.” He takes a sip from his glass before you mirror his actions.

Your face grimes at the overwhelming flavour of bourbon. “How much liquor did you put in this?”

“Like 2 shots?” He puts the glass on the coffee table.

“Is your two shots like that lady that put the whole bottle of vodka in?” You laughed, taping the edge of the box shut. Daniel smiles, leaning back into the couch as he sorts through the bag of bows you had on the cushion.

Daniel reaches forward while you’re wrapping another box, he loops the ribbon around your chest and ties a little bow behind you. “Daniel,” you chuckle, glancing over your shoulder at him.

“What?”

“What are you doing?”

“Wrapping my gift.” He smiles, sticking a bow on your boob.

You huff a laugh, smiling at your husband. “You're like an overgrown child.” You pull the bow off and stick it on his leg, undoing the ribbon and actually wrapping it around the box you had in front of you.

You and Daniel sit in silence for a bit, wrapping the last of the gifts as you chat over the extremely strong glass of eggnog. Daniel tries on numerous occasions to stick bows on you and wrap you up in ribbon, joking about opening his gift but you just wanted to finish up the wrapping before he could distract you.

Because if your husband is good for one thing, it’s distracting you.

Finally, after what felt like a million years, you were wrapping up the last present; a lego set for your nephew.

Daniel tries his ribbon trick once more, wrapping it around your middle and you lift your arms a bit, letting him slip his own under you to tie a little bow on the front of you.

You leave the ribbon he’s tied on you there as you get up to set the present with the others but you feel a hand smack your ass and you can see in the reflection of the window that your husband had stuck a bow on your ass.

Laughing, you pull the bow off to find your husband on the floor. “What are you doing ?” You ask for the millionth time that night.

You watch as he reaches up, pulling on the bow he had tied with the ribbon, putting on one end of it. “Unwrapping my gift.”

Daniel pulls you down to sit on his lap, your legs on either side, straddling him. “Is that so?” You ask, letting him take off your top.

He hums in response, eyes fixed on the red lace that covers your tits. Daniel leans forward, kissing along your collarbones and down to your tits, you were so distracted by the feeling that you missed him pulling your hands behind you and tying a perfect knot with the ribbon he had previously taken off of you.

“Daniel!” You scolded him, wiggling your wrists in an attempt to get them loose.

He smiles, satisfied as he scoots you off his lap. You were now on your knees in front of your husband, hands tied behind your back as you looked up at him. He leans down and kisses you, his knuckles brushing the underside of your chin when he looks at you, kissing you once more.

Your husband grabs your chin, tilting your head back as you look up at him.

His index fingers taps your cheek lightly and you open your mouth, “good girl.” He squeezes your face slightly before he slips his thumb into your mouth.

Daniel crouches down in front of you, eyes fixed on you and watching your every move; the way your own eyes study him or perhaps the way your lips wrap around his thumb, the feeling of your tongue on his finger.

“Bet you wish that was my cock, hm? Always did look pretty with it in your mouth.”

He smiles at the way your eyes widen at his filthy words. Daniel pulls his finger away, kissing you once more; sloppy and messy, your hands stuck behind your back before he pushes you to lay down for a moment.

His hands are quick with your shorts, giving them a tug before pulling them down. “Okay come on now,” you look up at him when he helps you up again.

“You have no patience,” he tsks, squeezing your chin between his index finger and thumb. He sits on the floor, his back against the couch when he pulls you down onto his lap.

“It’s not fun with me all tied up.” You complain, hoping he'd untie you.

Daniel smiles, “it's fun for me,” he kisses you, tapping your hip softly so you’d lift off him a bit before he lines himself up with you and you sink down onto him. The two of you let out a sigh at the same time; Daniel feeling you clench around him and you feeling him stretch you out.

"Relax,” he tells you, a hand rubbing along your thigh. “Take it so well, baby.” He mumbles against your lips before his hand wraps around your neck, fingers squeezing against the soft flesh causing a little whimper to slip past your lips.

Daniel’s eyes fixed on you; chest heaving, the thin layer of sweat across your soft skin made it glisten under the white light of the living room, your hand wrapped around his wrist.

A literal angel on earth if you asked him.

His hand finally moving from your neck, letting you take a deep breath; the air burning your lungs.

Daniel’s hand wanders down your chest, fingers brushing over your nipples before moving down your torso to your clit. He presses down, rubbing slow circles.

You fall flat against him, your husband reaching behind you to undo the knot, the ribbon tossed next to you. Your arms wrap over his shoulders, his hand resting on your lower back as he bounced you up and down on his lap.

His hand slips between the two of you once again, rubbing slow circles on your clit until he feels you clench around him again.

“Dan- fuck,” you breathe, your hand gripping his arm as he leans into you.

“I know, sweetheart.” He stops you, his hand moving in time with his hips.

Between the two, he pushes you over the edge. The knot in your stomach comes loose and your husband watches as you cum. The wetness wrapping around his cock, and with a few sloppy thrusts, Daniel follows behind you.

Your face buried in the crook of his neck, his hand rubs along the curve of your spine. “You’re so annoying,” you mumble and you can feel the rumble of his chest when he laughs.

“You know you love it.”

“I know I love you,” you sit up, your hand on his cheek. Daniel smiles, “I love you too.”

You go to kiss him but both of your phones chime at the same time. You lean over to check it and it was the little calendar reminder; it was 2 minutes past midnight which meant it was officially Christmas.

“Merry Christmas,” you smile at your husband and he kisses you. “Merry Christmas.”

---

taglist: @diorleclerc @timetoracewrites @lickmeleclerc @halsteadssneakylink @shea-theodore @hypermess @carronyaflowers @breakmyheart1000 @skarlettmikaelson @1234-angelika @flannel-cures @lovelytsunoda @somanyflippingbooks @thewintersunset @ccrobbs @kingvetski @molliemoo3 @ophcelia @chilisainz55 @earfquak3 @solo-pitstop-vibes @magnummagnussen @wallfloweriism @pg10ln4 @spicyromancevirgin @F1-ruined-my-life @omigodyall @livelaughleclercs @micksmidnights @sagediorfairy @p4st3lst4rs @dearxcherry @symmi @catgirlseb @gersleclerc @whoreofthepaddock @ally4and33 @kaycolecole @secret @alwaysclassyeagle @Hghnz20 @ellalovesvettel @dragon-of-winterfell @princessbetsy123-blog @starlightvettel @ricsaigaslec @harryssunflow3r @mistrose23 @honeybadgercomeback @dreams-and-cookies @anthonykatebridgerton @lynnismypseudonym @uhhevie @omigodyall @chilisainz55 @ohnoitstanya @punkladymoes @strulovitches @miniminescapist @indieclarke @allisonxf1

#anj’s holiday advent calendar #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo x reader #f1 smut

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equallyshaw · 1 year ago

Text

ᴅᴀʏ ɴɪɴᴇ: ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ʜᴏᴍᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇ - ʙʀᴏᴄᴋ ʙᴏᴇꜱᴇʀ

part of holidays with equallyshaw

warnings: swearing.

word count: 2.8k+

takes place over christmas and janurary! not really christmasy but idc lmao.

ʜᴇʀ ʜᴀɪʀ ꜱʟɪᴄᴋᴇᴅ ʙᴀᴄᴋ in a tight bun, her black dress clung to her irresistible curves and her free spirit is what caught broody brock boeser's attention, on this cold snow-free evening in vancouver. abba music pounded throughout the club, as divya 'viv' screamed the lyrics with her longtime uni friends. viv had just graduated this semester after 5 long years at uni of british columbia and she was more than ecstatic to raise some hell this weekend before heading home to toronto. after her 5 years in bc, she had no reason to stay on this side of canada so she was going to head home before heading to new york- hunting for a position on wall street.

brock watched as the dark haired girl danced and spun around with her friends, and felt the hair on his very neck raise. him and viv or 'vivian' as he called her, had hooked up many, many times over the course of her time on the west coast. it never led to anything, despite her giving him false hope. despite, them being exclusive to one another during the season. and him being faithful to her during the offseason - though she didnt know.

one of her friends since freshman year was on her way back from the bar, when she spotted some of the canucks. she rolled her eyes, slipping through people to get back to her group. "you'd never guess who's here tonight!" maya boomed and the girls all looked at her before shrugging. she then turned towards viv and viv felt a wave of guilt wash over. she had really like brock as a person, and hated toying with his emotions but she had told her self and her parents had too, that she couldn't date anybody while in school. her parents were pretty strict parents, but were leniant in other ways. "good god." she hummed, throwing back a shot of tequila to which she shut her eyes quickly, as the burning sensation died down. "he really did a number on ya, huh?" ginny another girl had teased while poking her elbow, "yeah for sure." viv lied. oh, he had in the most innocent of ways. but she had done it worse, breaking his heart over and over again.

❅

it was a while later when one of her friends sasha made her ways over toward elias, which then meant the two groups were bound to converse with one another. and as luck would have it, brock and viv found themselves close to one another. in proximity ofcourse, but viv didn't dare look at him. brock made a peace offering about 30 minutes later, holding out a cup of vodka cranberry and she knew she couldn't resist the free drink. she swiped it from him giving him a small smile, giving him a small nod. "how have you need davya?" he questioned, and she almost choked as he said her full name. "uh good! just graduated so im glad to be free of this place." she mused, sipping her drink. he nodded, "well that's great, congratulations!" he said smiling widely, a genuine smile was evident. she smiled back, the one that he had seen many, many times and he felt himself blush.

"still planning on wall street?" he questioned, and she nodded. "don't you know it. its not too far from home that my parents wont need to complain, but far enough where i feel like i can be my own person and find my own way." she said shrugging. he nodded, taking it all in. he hadn't said five words to her since may, and he had been dying to talk to her since then. "i always used to say that if vancouver didn't select me, i wanted to go to new york. something about it made me feel alive. if that makes sense." he said rambling a bit, and she could tell he felt embarrassed. "oh ofcourse! i totally get that...that's why im a sucker for it." she said whispering that last part and the two of their gazes connected. viv felt her chest begin to heat up, and the return of the familiar longing for him was evident.

he moved in closer to her, "maybe ill have to come visit you vivian." he mused, words and breath heavy on her neck. she felt herself shudder with pleasure, and looked at how close their faces were to each other. she grinned before leaning in and kissing him. he wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her in closer. they pulled away after a few seconds, "would it be crazy to ask you to come back to my place? again?" he questioned and she giggled, "thought you'd never ask...take me home." she whispered, with a cunning smirk on her face.

❅

two days later she woke up with an arm draped across her torso and chest, as her back was pressed into the mattress. she looked over and saw brock's familiar and luscious blond locks and smiled, rubbing small circles on his arm that was draped. god, she really needed to leave she thought. she had to catch a flight to toronto..but she didn't want to leave. being with brock felt right, it felt real and felt like home. though, her toxic side would never admit that. if she didn't get home, she'd hear so much from it. especially if she missed christmas and christmas eve. she felt the bed shift a bit, before brock rested his chin on her shoulder. she looked down, as she met his longing gaze. "morning vivian." he said softly, before she leaned in and kissed him. "morning brock." she hummed.

"whatcha thinkin about?" he questioned, pressing a kiss to her shoulder before exploring along her chest and neck. she softly moaned before he was now on top of her, and she had her hands wrapped in his hair. "just how my parents would kill me if i didn't make my flight tomorrow..but i shamelessly don't want to leave." she said shrugging and not daring to look at him. "whys that?" he said coyly, beginning to pepper her with kisses. she sighed, "because then they'd have the guy that they're forcing me to marry come find me. and like i don't want that." she said as if it was nothing. his eyebrows crinkled, as he froze. "sorry for this cockblock of a conversation." she said sitting up and he quickly moved off of her, as she wrapped around the throw blanket on the chair, next to the bed.

she wrapped her self and went to grab her phone from the kitchen where'd she had left it. "what do you mean, like an arranged marriage?" he questioned as she was about to leave. "yes." was all she said before walking out and then walked back in as quickly. "i don't want to be tied down to somebody that i don't love and especially not this quick after graduation, but they don't care." she said dropping the blanket, and bent down to grab her clothes.

"thats why you never wanted to be together, like be together for real." brock said putting the words together. she nodded. "she sighed, slipping on her underwear and jeans, her long locks draping over her chest. she turned back towards him, "that's why i kept breaking your heart...and mine." she said, the latter being softer. he stood up, and walked over towards her as she threw on her faux leather jacket. "what? you've liked me this whole time? just as much as i did?" he questioned and she scoffed, "well obviously brock, why do you think I've come back for the past 5 years almost? even if it crushed me saying no and leaving, you-you drew me back in and i loved our time together, even if it meant breaking my heart each time." she exclaimed, buttoning up her jacket. she looked up at brock, once she finished.

he stood in front of her and gave her a sad smile, and she hated it. she hated this look that he did whenever she broke things off, and would say no. "i keep hurting you, why do you keep holding on to hope, huh?" she exasperated. "because i love you! cant you see that!" he said raising his voice, acting as if viv didn't feel the same way. or as if she didn't see it.

"that will never be enough, brock! never!" she said running her hands through her hair. she sniffled, "that will never be enough and has never. its never been enough to be able to call off my wedding that as far as i know is in a few months. you're never gonna be enough for me, and i -i cant do anything about it." she said through tears, watching so many emotions flash through his blue eyes. he shook his head, "you're love will never be enough for me, and my love will never be enough to set me free." she said softer, and he titled his head just a bit at that; and his face dawned a pleading look. she shook her head, "im sorry brock." she said before walking out.

❅

it was janurary 20th, and she was heading into scotiabank with her older cousin and her husband. she had been living with her cousin for the month almost, after she told her parent's she needed time away from them. she told them that she couldn't go through with the marriage, and obviously they were not too pleased with her. they berated her and believed that she was bringing shame to the family. she said she was leaving, no matter their thoughts or feelings. once she had come back from vancouver, her older cousin sought it all out of her. her cousin absolutely adored the fact, that she had been seeing brock for almost 5 years. her cousin secretly wished that the two would somehow find each other again.

the two sat down in the club seats, and watched the players just beginning to take the ice for period 1. her husband handed over two beers, and viv quickly chugged half of it. "have you spoken to him..at all?" she questioned and viv shook her head. "nope." she sighed, quickly finding brock as he took his spot on the blue line for the anthem. she stood along with the rest of the arena, and listened to the anthem but through it all, she flashed back to all the times her and brock spent together. throughout the game she could not take her eyes off of the blonde-eyed beauty, that she had come to love. god, how she missed him.

at some point during period three with the two teams tied, the arena decided they would begin a segment on the jumbotron for 'kiss cam.' and ofcourse, her and cousins husband would be shown on the camera, despite there being a seat in between them empty. the girl next to her tapped her and pointed up, viv was terrified. she shook her head, a flash of fear in her eyes. the camera still did not move, and her cousins husband put his face in his hand, not believing that this was happening. the camera then moved away, and viv sighed a sigh of relief.

the camera flashed back to viv and her cousin's husband and they shook their heads again, and ofourse the crowd was eating this all up and the teams began to watch as well. brock looked up and felt his heart drop to his stomach, this couldn't be happening he thought. he looked away at the exact moment that her cousin came back and kissed him passionately in front of the crowd. the crowd, hooting and hollering. viv's cheeks heated up when her cousin laughed, sitting down back between them. "that was fun." she mused as viv rolled her eyes.

❅

two hours later, with a vancouver overtime win; coming from the princess himself, viv found herself, her cousin and her husband at the soho house bar. after about an hour of being there, she saw some of the vancouver canucks waltz in. she sighed, finishing her cranberry vodka and decided to call it a night. "no im gonna get a taxi, ill see you back at the condo." she said getting up, and began her dissent towards the front. she passed the team, with brock quickly recognizing the shade of dark brown hair from anywhere. he followed her out, and saw her waiting at the pickup area.

"vivian!" she heard to the right of where she was standing and she felt tears prick her eyes, once she realized it was him. "brock we cant do this here." she said as her uber pulled up, "then take me wherever you're going." he said confidently. she looked towards the uber and the grabbed ahold of his hand pulling him with her. "are we going home?" he questioned, "ill introduce myself." he added quickly and she sighed. "no, i left home once i came back. been staying with my cousin aditi or adi and her husband." she said leaning back into the seat. he watched the tension dissipate just a bit, and then took ahold of her hand that was resting on her thigh. he pulled it closer to him and rubbed her thumb softly. she looked towards him, and saw the look he had made her swoon these past years.

"come on." she huffed, pulling him out of the uber and up towards the condo. she opened it up quickly, and walked in and opening the door wider for him. she sat down her purse on the table near the door, and watched as brock took in the condo. the condo featured so much of her culture, yet it was modern and so different from other family members' homes. especially her parents.

"you left home?" he questioned softly, and she saw that it was laced with concern. "yeah my parents told me that this guy that they had been planning for me to marry, was gonna be making an appearance soon and i said no. i told them that if they went through with this, that'd they would be losing me. that i would not go through with it. id rather lose everything i own and have if it means ill be happy or have a chance to be. i had even made calls to my best friends in vancouver but my cousin said that i can come here first. and stay as long as i needed to." she said shrugging and pulling a bottle of water from the fridge. "want one?" she questioned and he nodded, taking one from her.

"she too never went through with her arranged marriage, and she's been able create her dream life and with the husband of her dreams." she said smiling softly, "who was sitting next to you tonight?" he questioned, and she nodded. he silently cursed himself and she saw his red cheeks. she shook her head, "all good brock. seriously. you had no idea based on what our last conversation was. i would have thought the same thing." viv said trying to soften the blow.

"i have spent the past 5 years absolutely head over heals for you and i would absolutely shoot myself in the foot if i didn't even attempt to mend or not even mend, but give us a chance." she paused as brock looked over at her. a sliver of hope coursing through his veins.

"i would be a fool not to at least attempt to explore my feelings and whatever it is between us. officially, that is." she said but looked away when he didn't say anything. he was just too stunned to say a word, he couldn't believe that the girl of his dreams who is a firecracker, kind, poised and absolute breathtaking would be now saying this. that she finally had the opportunity to explore this.

"really?" he choked out and she looked back at him. she nodded and he moved closer to her so now he was directly in front of her, and pulling a stray hair behind her ear. "pinky promise." she grinned, holding out her pinky. he looked down at it quickly, before looking back into her brown eyes.

pinky promises were their thing, it is what they said when the other was being serious. they'd come up with it after hooking up a few times her freshman year, and it stuck.

"pinky promise, b." she said and he smiled back, pulling hers and his pinky together.

they pulled away, and he wrapped his arms around her back while hers found his neck. they rested their foreheads against each others, taking in this moment together. because they didn't know how long they would go without seeing each other. well mostly viv.

but brock had other plans, "come home with me." he offered and she opened her eyes to find his already looking at her. "what?" she questioned in disbelief but also wanted him to say it again.

he smiled widely, pulling her as close as possible before speaking again. "come home with me." he stated, and she smiled softly. and not even a beat later, "take me home b." she smiled before he pulled her in for a long and deep kiss.

"oh! and can we celebrate christmas, i got you a gift.." she said pulling apart, and he grinned. "you and you're timing but yes, id love to spend christmas with you." he mused before kissing her once more.

hope you all enjoyed! pls like and reblog, if u did (:

tags: @cuttergauthier @jayda12 @toasttt11 @jackhues @dancerbailey3

#brock boeser #brock boeser blurb #vancouver canucks #nhl #hockey #nhl blurb #hockey imagine #hockey blurb #nhl imagine #equallyshaw masterlist #holidays with equallyshaw

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panchulien · 9 days ago

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Bruvski I just fucking realized your main was moltage /dead anywho back to the regularly scheduled fuckery!!!

Idea one) Nik watching Price curse and swear as he struggles to wrap presents for his boys (read kids) and his sweet daughter Farah (read daughter we all know where she stands) and slapping patch work all over the gaps of the presents to cover gaps. Far to much effort that won't last more then a minute when the men get their hands on it. Not to mention the utter TIME devoted to find the perfect gift for his men.

Ghost, A shiny Charmeleon card just to fuck with the man (I saw the sloppy head post about Charizard) last year was a Charmander. As well as a new oil for the mans equipment. He always was fond of the Egyptian brands. Smoother than silk and fires like a dream.

Gaz, sweet baby boy Gaz the second favorite always, A new cap since he loses his all the time. As well as a vintage Scotch older than him. Got a love for it after joining Nik and Price for late night drinks after helping plan ops. And a new harness, his dumb ass isn't falling out of a helicopter again. And he's not going to forget about it dammit!

Soap, a British flag blanket, hands down. Need to see the bloke froth and bark and grumble before he gets to the good presents. Only if he's a good boy though. The good stuff being, an expensive set of colored charcoals for the ADHD mutt. And a box of bandaids that labels him as an 'idiot, stupid, crybaby' for all the times he gets hurt. And, reluctantly, and a rather poor decision on Prices part. Silk boxers with Scotland's flag on the ass. It takes a stick and threatening to shoot the man for him to not to drop his pants then and there to put them on. Not this Christmas MacTavish!!

Farah, the beautiful best daughter, and sassy brat. Does not get a gag gift, last time Soap and Gaz almost got shot for trying to give her Russian candies. No, Farah gets a new scarf, gun oil like Ghost, she likes a gun with nice performance. This one from Germany. Germany, not Austria I promise. No one brings up Austria. And a small box of chocolates from France. Sweet tooth courtesy of Kate, and enough to take back and share with her friends.

Nik, the man will take everything with grace and remembers to pay it forward, with interest 😉. But in reality, what is there to get a man who buys anything and everything he wants on a whim. Answer, anything because it's the thought he cares for more.

Has the drawings and art Soap has gifted him framed on his walls at home. And all the safe houses he lends the men, his favorite is a small sketch of Nik and Price sleeping while leaning on each other. kept over his heart and easily his favourite.

A dark burgundy Sherpa coat for his trips from Gaz. The man is all class, and will and has shown it on numerous occasions.

And Ghost? Claws up the oldest vintage Vodka and Kvas no longer in circulation. Along with a few notes on some... Rats, so to speak and other fun things. But that's between Nik and Ghost.

It's always agonizing trying to buy for Nik, so Price has given up and learned the best method of buying something for the man. Is the moment he sees something and it makes him think of the man? BUY IT. It's become a game between the two, watching as Nik slowly rolls the item between his large warm hands. A thoughtful and warm look on his face as he mulls over what memory such an item had triggered. The boys being quiet and listening, it's rare to hear Nik speak with such a fond and soft voice. Like a bear settled in to hibernate, half asleep and cheeks red from the liquor.

His favorite? A bar of chocolate, not even made anymore. Rebranded six times before they finally shut down. Only two bites taken out of it and stashed away in a lockbox with his important trinkets such as his grandmums wedding ring. His old dog tags. And a broken knife a fallen comrade had left behind.

This year? A small pair of red mittens, not fitting anyone's hands. But to remind the time the two men had accidentally ran into each other when Nik was calming down a lost little girl. Helping fix her warm mittens on her hands before he looked up and caught Prices gaze. It was easy enough to find the little girls family. But that brief moment, walking around with the little girl on Niks shoulders to try and spot her family. A hand on her back so she didn't fall from Price. It was oddly domestic and something they held close to the heart.

So much I'll have to do a part two in a bit after breakfast 😭 enjoy the word vomit my dear 💖 still gonna be my pan pan 😤

liaaa this is insane. you spoil me. 😭🫶 also yes the main is moltage, where i post about my silly penguin show hehe <33

Price carefully picking every single gift (most time went for Soaps) only to butcher the packaging ahaha. Nikolai is just watching with a smile as the captain swears his ass off at the messed up wrappers.

I love the ideas for gifts also! Ghost and Farah's fit so well (shoutout to Jack for the Pokemon idea even though I didn't understand much of it. It's so sweet hehe)

Gaz too, (although he's gonna roll his eyes at the harness. ''IT WAS ONE TIME, NIK!🙄'' ''Captains idea actually. 😁'') Him joining Nik and Price for drinks is so sweet. Would love to hear what kinda conversation would go around between them. Mostly Nik and Price telling stories of their early days... which Gaz would roll his eyes like ''You guys sound more insufferable than Ghost and Soap.'' earning a belly laugh from Nik and a roll of eyes from John.

Soap is gonna... have a fun time opening those presents lmaooo love that also. Bet his ass had it coming with what gifted people in return.

And Nik's part oughghhg😭 the man cherishes every little thing. Every memory he had with the TF141. And John getting him something because ''it reminded me of you'' ? Are those tears in Nik's eyes? Nope. Just allergies, okay. :)

Nik, ya big softie. I love him so much. Thank you for this Lia! Enjoy your breakfast, I would love to hear a part 2. <3

#answered #<333

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skinnipinni · 1 year ago

Text

Things that helped me survive:

Don’t exclude things. It is scary, like wtf crisps are caloric af. But it will help you to not binge. You feel like eating some crisp? Eat some, count it into your daily intake. Maybe eat them tomorrow too. That way you wont fill yourself with unsatisfying food and still end up binging on whole bag…

Protein is the most important thing. Buy everything wit “protein” on its label

Celebrate Christmas and Easter with your family. This one day won’t change anything. Really. Your family doesn’t deserve to worry on Christmas Eve and you can eat food that only occurs at special occasions.

Take vitamin D

DON’T CHEW GUM. Research shows that actually it makes you more hungry.

Water is mandatory. 2 litres have to be drank daily.

You can drink cola 0 on ketosis while fasting. Somebody once told me that I can’t. You can drink it because it doesn’t have carbs so your ketosis is safe <3.

If you binge, don’t fast right after it. After your fast you will just binge again. Come back to normal restriction and try fasting in 2-3 days.

Buy good skin care and hair care products. You will need that. Your skin might start being grey and dry and hair will just fall out. Buy good brush, use masks, conditioners and hair growth products. Use t-shirt/special silk towel to dry it. Don’t bleach it. It will only make it worse.

VOLUME EATING - a real lifesaver, it will make you soooo satisfied. You can make whole bowls of low cal protein and veggies. Your stomach will feel full and you will have no space to eat something “forbidden”

Go for a walk. Really, that’s enough, thats how I lost 40kg. Unless you want to be toned walking is enough and you won’t faint and over exercise yourself.

Dieting can be cheap, but you have to plan for whole week.

If you live with someone, don’t even say a word about dieting. I had situations at home when I fasted for 3 days and my mom yelled at me for getting close to the fridge because she didn’t know I haven’t eaten anything for long time. Be normal about it. Hide the scale after using it. Make a password for your computer, phone, tablet. Have your own bin in your room and empty it regularly. Don’t do too much lax because they will notice you occupy bathroom for too long. Eat something high cal once in a while in front of them.

My friends are always going out to eat. If you have a boyfriend just give him some of your portion, if you are single order something lower in calories than other options and start with eating low cal ingredients. Don’t waste money on food at restaurants, buy something cheap, you are not going to eat all of it anyways. You are supposed to get skinnier, not your wallet.

If your friends want to drink, try drinking non alcoholic beer. It’s not so high in calories and you can find excuse for drinking it. If you really want to drink alcohol divide it into two portions and drink it with 0 cal cola. 0.5 shot of vodka and rest of the cup is cola, then repeat and you will appear normal.

Don’t buy konjac, I know its tempting but believe me it won’t help you with your toilet visits.

Don’t overuse lax. It took me 2 years to start sh*ting without problems and extreme pain again.

You can watch fat mukbangers or 600lb life. It makes me motivated. BUT DON’T POST FATSPO OF RANDOM PEOPLE. IT IS JUST EVIL. IF YOU DO THAT JUST STFU AND GET OUT, UR HUMAN PIECE OF TRASH. People on those shows were there voluntarily and they know they will get critique but random girls on social media don’t deserve it…

Find manual hobby that requires a lot of concentration. It will take your mind of fasting and will relax you <3

Remember ED is not pretty or cute or delicate dainty fairycore sh*t. It is pain and tears and mental damage. It’s not glamorous as we want it to be.

#⭐️ving #tw ed diet #tw ana diary #anorexcya #ana rant #an0r3c1a #@n0r3xia #@nor3×14 #⭐️ve

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esta-elavaris · 1 year ago

Text

Fallen Through Time

Part Eight [4,011 words]

An AU of my completed, 400k+ word fanfic Catch the Wind [AO3], in which Elizabeth, not James, is the one to discover Theodora Byrne after she crash-lands into the world of Pirates of the Caribbean.

Historical research notes at the end, for fun 💜

Also now on AO3 and FF.net.

Masterpost - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - *Part Eight* [you're here!]

Tag list [let me know if you want to be added!]: @missfronkensteen @dancerinthestorm @teawithshakespeare

Preparing for a dinner party under the watchful gaze of Elizabeth Swann was the closest thing to having a ‘dance mum’ Theo suspected she’d ever experience. But her excitement helped her forget her own nerves, and her enthusiastic instruction was worlds better than being stuck under the tutelage of someone who had little wish to help her, so all in all Theo considered herself pretty lucky.

In the morning, they rattled through the list of courses and the corresponding cutlery one final time. Theo excelled at that part solely because she sang the list, in order, to the tune of an AC/DC song in her head. Although she doubted that sort of shit was the audience they were aiming for when they wrote Back in Black.

From there, they practised her entrance down the staircase (which, given the drastically upped hair and skirt mass that formal evening dress held in store, would be trickier than it sounded apparently), the correct way of wielding a fan, and went over what was and was not acceptable dinner table conversation. Dirty limericks, sadly, were out.

Theo wasn’t without opportunity to introduce Elizabeth to some modern ways of preparing for get-togethers, either, though. Namely with the concept of pre-drinks – in their case, a generous glass of wine each rather than anything wild like vodka shots – and showing her the wonders of a homemade oat face mask. Neither the servants, nor Governor Swann, had any idea of what to make of that.

Luckily, the results weren’t so astounding as to be considered witchcraft. That would be just her luck, wouldn’t it? To get this far and then get scuppered by something she’d learned from a shitty YouTube tutorial.

The arrival of the evening was something she greeted with far more dread than the morning. Alice, the maid who’d been tasked with helping her get ready, seemed to sense her nerves – for after ten minutes of dead silence as she began twisting and curling her hair into an elaborate updo, the brunette began chatting merrily about this and that with little expectation placed on Theo to respond. Not that she didn’t try to respond, she just wasn’t particularly successful.

“It’s lovely,” she gave a strained smile when Alice stepped back, “thank you.”

It was nice – even if she always felt like she had a tower on top of her head around here, regardless of how the styles Elizabeth (and therefore Theo herself) opted for weren’t exactly the skyscrapers that others here favoured.

“It’s not done yet, miss,” Alice said. “There’s still the accessories to go. Although it’s such a lovely colour, this hair of yours…it’d be a shame to distract from it. Pearls would be a bit much, I think. Especially for a dinner party…and lace wouldn’t match the dress…”

Some maids seemed irked by the fact that Theo lacked a certain amount of decisiveness when it came to decisions such as these (mostly because everything was a damn code here, and she didn’t want to arse it up), but Alice apparently enjoyed the freedom of input. Which was likely why she’d been assigned to her. Still, as she rattled off an endless array of household items that could possibly be lodged into her hair to give it that extra bit of flair, Theo couldn’t help but wonder if the next option would be to stick a little plastic angel on top of it so everybody could sing Christmas hymns around her in a circle.

In the end, they settled on a decorative hair comb, comprised of a cluster of pewter flowers, and Theo considered herself lucky all in all.

Next came the dress. And Elizabeth had really outdone herself on that score. A deep, cool-toned purple silk, it was saved from being over-the-top by the fact that whoever had made it mostly allowed the fabric to speak for itself rather than decking it with non-stop bows and gems and gumdrop buttons.

It was adorned, sparingly, at the pleated elbow-length cuffs and the bodice with lace a handful of shades lighter than the purple of the rest of the dress, and with an amethyst inlaid in silver right in the centre of the neckline. With a length of matching silk about her neck, balancing precariously in her skirts atop the matching slippers she’d been given, she looked like she belonged in this time. To her own eye. Whether she’d ever feel that way was another matter entirely – but that didn’t matter much. She was still clinging to the hope that she wouldn’t be here long enough for that to become a real issue.

Despite the sneers of the people who were resolved to be unwelcoming, there were plenty here who’d been kind. Elizabeth, Governor Swann, the servants here, Groves, Will, and now even Norrington. She was grateful for that, of course she was. And she’d never discount what a difference that made, because when she thought of how different her day-to-day life would look without the kindness of the Swanns in particular, she ran a real risk of bursting into tears. But…it was still difficult. Of course it was difficult. Watching the clear adoration between Elizabeth and her father had her missing her own dad all the more sorely than she already did, it was a constant reminder. Where did he think she was? How could she get back?

Thankfully, it was time for her to move downstairs before she could follow that thought into a spiral.

****

They would begin in the sitting room, and then once everybody was good and ready they’d adjourn to the dining room, Elizabeth had explained to her. The guests arrived, and Theo was glad she’d never suffered from an excess of self-consciousness (well, other than when she was a teenager, but that was a given) because if she had, all of the eyes constantly on her would’ve sent her off into the ocean to find Jack herself before he even rocked up of his own accord.

While the good Captain Sparrow was not fated to attend on this night, plenty of others did. Amelia and her cronies, for one, but also a fair few families who Theo hadn’t met – all of whom seemed nice enough – as well as, of course, Captain Norrington and Lieutenant Groves.

The former greeted her with a nod when he entered, but veered off to speak to Governor Swann rather quickly, while the latter smiled and approached when he arrived barely five full minutes later. He came to stand by her at the side of the room, where she’d been pretending to admire a painting. Not that it wasn’t a lovely painting, but she knew sod all about art and cherubs weren’t really her thing. If they were anybody’s thing.

“You look well, Miss Byrne,” he greeted warmly. “Are you ready to be unleashed upon society?”

Theo was aware of how many eyes flitted towards them more or less the moment they began speaking – but she suspected it was a given around here whenever any man spoke to any woman. Maybe there was a secret betting pool going on beneath the surface on who would be wifed off and when. Precious little else was going on here. For now, anyway.

“Unleashed?” she laughed. “You make me sound like a plague.”

“I didn’t mean it that way. Although, come to think of it, I’m not sure I’ve ever heard of a good thing being unleashed.”

“Dogs, I suppose.”

“That was hardly the comparison I was trying to make, either,” he chuckled.

“War?” she suggested. “I think you can unleash war.”

“You must stop making these suggestions, Miss Byrne, or I’ll think you’re determined to dig me in deeper,” he teased with a snort, accepting a glass of champagne from a passing footman – after which his eyes lit up. “Power. There. You can unleash that. That was my very clever metaphor all along.”

“Oh, I like that one. Nicely saved,” she smiled, clinking her glass against his.

“Now I can rest easy, knowing I’m spared your wrath,” Groves sipped from his glass.

“That sounds ominous,” came Norrington’s greeting as he joined them, nodding at her. “Miss Byrne. Lieutenant.”

One thing she noted was that, in person, it was much easier to tell that he was handsome beneath the wig than it was on the screen. Very handsome, actually. Well, either that or she noticed him a lot more when speaking directly to him than she did when there were endless pirates and all sorts vying for attention alongside him. Sure, there was always the second one, but with that one she was usually much too traumatised by Jack's demise to notice much else.

But now? Here? She could definitely see why he was considered the catch of the settlement.

“Hello, Captain Norrington,” she greeted. “Your lieutenant and I just made war and peace in a minute flat.”

“A new record,” Norrington mused. “The peace treaty must note that, I think.”

Theo smiled, and decided she rather liked him when he was funny.

“Were you successful in your endeavour from the other day?” he asked.

“I was! Very,” she nodded – pleasantly surprised that he was even following up on it. “I’m just waiting for word from town.”

“Speaking of things that sound ominous,” Groves commented.

“Oh, it’s nothing – well, it’s a surprise, really. I can’t discuss it just yet. But it’s a good thing.”

“My comment about your being unleashed stands,” Groves smirked.

Norrington was too disinterested to ask what Groves meant by that – or, it appeared, too preoccupied by reaching into his fancy embroidered uniform coat to produce something. A fairly small leatherbound book, worn but finely embossed. He handed it to Theo, who managed to accept it after a moment of blinking in surprised. It was very warm, from where it had been nestled against him.

“I brought you a welcome gift, Miss Byrne. After our conversation the other day, I thought it might interest you.”

She was too busy reading the cover and getting over her shock to notice that his tone was just a bit too overly pleasant.

“You’re in danger of outshining the rest of us, sir,” Groves joked, but appeared just as confused as she was.

“Viking Maritime Architecture and Engineering,” she read aloud.

It sounded like a real nail-biter. But from the likes of Norrington, it was truly a peace offering, so she smiled all the wider and looked back up at him…only to find his watching her with a surprisingly smug expression.

“You really can read.”

Theo faltered. And then the smile slipped from her face, replaced by hurt – fuelled by embarrassment, too. Over the time and the setting he’d chosen to do this, and the fact that he’d done it after she’d just been so relieved at their improved standing. Over their stupid little bonding moment. Over how much she’d bought all of it. Y’know. Like a prat.

Not so much a gift, as a test, then. It was clear he hadn’t meant to say it. Or maybe he just regretted saying it when he saw how her eyes flashed – as she recognised why Norrington’s prowess was on the battlefield (battle-sea?) and not in political arenas. The fact that he’d done it here, in front of everyone, with Groves standing right here as part of their conversation, was just salt in the wound.

“It was good of you, Captain,” she breathed a flat laugh, “to choose one with such long words, in order to really test your hypothesis. There, actually – hypothesis. Add that to the list of words I know with more than two syllables. You’ll have a whole scroll of ‘em before long.”

It probably wasn’t very polite of her to say what she did. But mostly, Theo was congratulating herself on not saying what she’d really wanted to; that he could shove the book, along with his stupid wig, right up into a certain orifice…if not for the stick that was already lodged therein. But the Swanns wouldn’t have appreciated that – even if she herself might’ve been proud of herself for putting together an insult that contained the word therein, because it looked like this century was really rubbing off on her already.

Groves suddenly appeared to find his glass of champagne utterly fascinating,

“Excuse me,” she said, setting the book down on the nearest side table, and taking her leave.

“That went well, I think,” she heard Groves comment mildly behind her.

Norrington did not respond.

Of course, as she took her leave she realised that she didn’t actually have anywhere to walk away to. She knew no other here, with the exception of Elizabeth and her father, and she point blank refused to be the sort of pathetic wet wipe who scurried off to hide behind the Swanns whenever the going got tough.

God, she’d sent him a sandwich. What sort of idiot was she? She wished he’d damn well choked on it. He’d probably binned it, actually, or tested it for poison – or force fed it to one of the prisoners in Fort Charles to test his little theories.

She was saved, mercifully, from pretending to stare at any more of the room’s decorations when dinner was announced in the next moment. And then she was saved yet again when she found that Norrington was seated at the Governor’s side down at the leftmost end of the table, while she was placed firmly by Elizabeth right at the opposite end, with Groves at her left and a man she hadn’t yet spoken to opposite her. Theo also suspected that Elizabeth did indeed know damn well which women had been a problem in town, because they were all seated down at the other end, too. No doubt they’d be pleased at being so close to not only the Governor, but their favourite eligible asshole too, so everybody was happy.

Dinner went off without a hitch. She followed Elizabeth’s lead with the cutlery, she made decent enough conversation with those around her, and – best of all – Groves resolutely pretended he hadn’t witnessed what had just happened in the drawing room. The meal itself was a long, drawn-out affair, but she didn’t mind that. The food was good, and she wasn’t in any rush for the whole party to mingle once again for a final round of drinks in the drawing room.

When that time finally did come, she decided that she at least deserved a moment to collect herself before getting through the final burst of the evening. If she left after they entered, it would only be all the more noticeable, so she reached for Elizabeth’s hand while everybody was distracted by leaving the table.

“I’m sorry – I’m not used to this heat just yet. Do you mind if I…?”

“Of course – go. The patio is often cool at this time in the evening, so long as it’s a cloudless night,” Elizabeth squeezed her hand and dismissed her with a wave. “I’ll make your excuses.”

****

The night was indeed cool and cloudless, and after the humidity of the dining room and the pervading smell of meat and alcohol, the fresh air was a miracle worker. Leaning against the wall so that she wouldn’t be visible from the drawing room windows to any but the most stubborn observer, she stared blankly into the distance and let her mind wander.

Before long, Theo had no idea how long she’d been out there. She felt lighter out of the gaze of those gathered – taller, too. It wasn’t even that she put stock in their opinions of her; save Elizabeth, none of them could ever know her story, and therefore they could never truly know her. Their opinions, their disapproval, their judgement was all for the façade she was putting on. Well, if they knew the real her, they’d deem her common as muck anyway, so none of it really mattered. But there was not caring about what they thought, and then being stuck in a room with them all while they tittered and whispered behind their fans. And while the one who was supposed to be all good and noble and proper made it worse by openly humiliating her.

Had the movies really gotten him so wrong – shined such a rosy light on him – or did she come across that badly to everybody here? It was…demoralising. It was lonely. She just wanted to go somewhere where people knew her. The real her. Jack’s arrival was something she’d been nervous about. A lot was riding on it, it was her only hope, and it was far from a solid hope, at that. But the more things felt wrong here, the more she looked forward to it. She took a deep breath in, refusing to cry over this. That would be pathetic. She was just ready for the night to end.

So lost was she in her brooding that she didn’t notice the footsteps approaching behind her – something for which her folk back home would’ve been sorely disappointed in her. When the hand landed on her shoulder, though, they would’ve been very pleased by her response. After all of the sparring they’d drummed into her, it was muscle memory more than it was a conscious reaction. What her instincts told her to do was spin away from the grip, grab the person’s wrist and hold it at an angle.

It should’ve been easy. But while she could manage it in stilettos if she really tried, doing it in stupid eighteenth century slippers with nothing at her heel was another matter entirely. Her foot slid from the shoe as she spun, sending her off-balance as she unexpectedly stepped down a few inches. Stumbling, the hand that would’ve grabbed the arm ended up aborting that mission and flailing before her face instead, and she ultimately looked like an absolute tit. All before a very horrified Groves.

Not only Groves, it turned out, but also the guests who were near the massive windows…and Elizabeth, walking but a few feet behind the Lieutenant.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I’m so sorry – I didn’t know you were…”

“No, I’m sorry,” Groves said quickly, offering a hand once she straightened so she could step back into her shoe. “I…I called to you, but you didn’t hear.”

“No, no, not at all, I was- I was world’s away,” she caught her breath, waiting for her heart rate to return to normal. “It was my fault. I didn’t smack you, did I?”

It was a miracle – a sodding miracle – that she’d stumbled and arsed up the move. Being startled, she could explain. Putting Norrington’s right-hand man in a headlock? Not so much.

When she recovered fully from her shock, she noticed Elizabeth watching the exchange like a hawk, with an expression that was completely unreadable.

****

It was late in the night when the guests finally took their leave, and Elizabeth was more than ready to change into her nightgown and slip into bed. After a thorough debriefing session with Theodora, no doubt. But there was one thing to see to first.

She asked Captain Norrington for a word while a large group of the others were busy saying long goodbyes with her father, and Theodora was preoccupied with Mrs Spencer, and he complied easily enough. They retreated to the side of the drawing room, and Elizabeth took a moment to make sure that none were listening before she got right to the point.

“That was unkind. What you did tonight – and at a gathering meant to welcome her to our home, no less.”

Huffing a laugh, he shook his head and crossed his arms.

“I suspect Miss Byrne wasted no time in rushing to you and relaying our entire conversation.”

“Theo hasn’t breathed a word of it, I suspect she’d much too embarrassed to do so. I overheard everything myself – I was standing not five feet away, speaking with Mrs Spencer.”

Captain Norrington scoffed, shaking his head, but that was the extent of the argument he could offer. Well, until he had a moment to think, and then he spoke again with an eye roll.

“I gave her a book. One that I thought might interest her. How she chose to take that gesture is entirely her own affair.”

“You caught her out under the guise of good will for all to see! Do you know what she’s spoken of to me, openly, this week? Frequently, too, for that matter?”

“I dread to think.”

“Your gentlemanly nature. Your kindness.”

He faltered for but a moment, during which it looked like he might almost be vaguely tempted to feel guilty…before straightening and schooling his features back into a look of polite boredom.

“A ploy, no doubt.”

“Captain, do you think me a simpleton?” Elizabeth asked frankly.

That got rid of the bored look. Norrington gaped at her. When one dark eyebrow rose at him as she waited for a response, showing she really did expect a response, he recovered – but not particularly quickly.

“Of course not!” he denied. “I never would. None could.”

“So, in that case, might I ask why you think certain details regarding Theodora have escaped my notice? That I am blind to her oddities?”

“I…I only thought…you seem so taken with her…” he said, before frowning at her. “Surely you do not mean to say that your approval of her has been a façade this entire time?”

“Of course it hasn’t, I like her very much.”

“But you believe her to be a charlatan?”

“Oh, really, Captain Norrington,” Elizabeth sighed impatiently, folding her arms. “There are many reasons why a woman of good birth and education might flee her home and disguise her identity, and few of them are rooted in that woman being a brigand.”

The captain, to his credit, seemed to visibly take stock of her words and truly consider them, his face veiled in thought, his gaze downcast. Elizabeth felt then that it was safe to continue.

“And none of them,” she pressed in a gentler tone, “may be discovered without kindness.”

Looking suitably chagrined then, Captain Norrington was silent, and so Elizabeth felt it safe to continue.

“I do not think she hides nothing. Few can profess that. But whatever it is that she hides, I think it harms none, save herself.”

His brow furrowed, and it was then that Elizabeth went in for the kill.

“I don’t suppose you saw how she reacted when Groves gave her that fright?”

That was all it took. A simple question, asked softly, with the right tone. Elizabeth left him with that, excusing herself to rejoin the rest of her guests.

****

Notes: SO because some folk like the historical rabbit holes these stories take me down -- while I was writing this chapter I was a bit worried because I remembered that, at some point in history, it wasn’t legal for non-royals to wear purple, and I was oddly committed to the mental image of Theo in her lilac gown, so I went digging. Elizabeth I made it illegal during her reign in the mid 16th century (unless you were closely related to the royal family), and it was not legalised until after sumptuary Laws in England were repealed in 1604. Even after that, though, it still wasn’t affordable for ordinary people until 1856, when they found a cheaper way of making the dye. But the Swanns aren’t ordinary people, and so Theo gets her lovely purple gown.

Plus, I think it would be a nice message on Elizabeth’s part as to Theo's worth, how she expects Theo to be treated by the others like she’s one of the gang, and it’s a message that Theo wouldn’t be aware of because she uhhhh doesn’t spend her time researching historical tailoring laws so she can write fanfic about fictional dead men x

#catch the wind #ctw #james/theodora #james and theodora #fallen through time esta-elavaris #ftt #james norrington/oc #james norrington x oc #pirates of the caribbean fanfic #pirates of the caribbean fanfiction #james norrington fanfic #james norrington fanfiction

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clunelover · 2 years ago

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- my crown is back on

- Xmas was good until the very end in which I thought my husband implied to me that he worked harder than I did on Christmas (which, he was not implying that…damn alcohol) and I went off on him about everything I did and how nobody appreciates me and I can’t offload any tasks to him cause he doesn’t know how to do anything (gross overstatement - there’s some of that, but a lot of it is me being a control freak/refusing to let go of any “must dos” that I really should) so yeah that was a rough one! We’re okay now. Going to at least do dry January, and maybe dry…LIFE? But I’m only committing to January for now because I don’t want to think farther.

- I think I do also need to figure out Something for thanksgiving and Christmas. I CAN host both but idk if I want to! And maybe other people don’t have the room to host but maybe I don’t give a shit! Maybe we’ll go somewhere instead! All I know is, this year I felt Tremendous Dread in between the two holidays and it sucked ass and I don’t want to have that again

- we are now on a family vacation to a family fun type place that has already got me overstimulated and exhausted and sick of bad food but we are here til Friday

- my supposedly sober and taking vivitrol stepmom is in Florida with her mom and sister B + sister’s GF and sister caught her drinking, just super brazenly (water bottle of vodka at the pool). She’s been in Florida for a few weeks and says as soon as she got there she started drinking. I thought that’s not possible with vivitrol (well not actually impossible but it makes it so you don’t get drunk even if you try to drink, as well as curbing cravings) but as it turns out she was on the pill of that and not the shot, so she must have just stopped taking it! Stepmom is at her Airbnb alone while sister+ GF sleep at my step-grandma’s, and she sent a message to sister saying that tomorrow she’s going to call a sober living house back home and see about getting in there, but that’s always so fishy to me, when they’re immediately all compliant. Usually means more bullshit is on the way. This current iteration of rollercoaster got kicked off last Christmas actually! She’s been to rehab twice in this past year.

…and yes I see the irony in me being in a cycle of stopping drinking, resuming drinking, remembering why I stopped in the first place, stopping again…while this is what’s going on with stepmom and sometimes other family members. I’ve never had the level of problem they do, but I know that’s not really the point.

#cw alcoholism #cw addiction #cw alcohol

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fanfictiongirlie · 5 days ago

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Mcfly: It Was Me, Wasn't It? Chapter Ten

Parings: Dougie Poynter x First Person Character

Description:

'It was me, wasn't it?' He mumbled. I nodded and kissed him again. Until he pulled away smiling. 'I love you' He mouthed. 'I love you too' I smiled pulling him in to another kiss.

Rating: Teen Audiences and Up

Warnings: Angst, AU, Implied Sexual Content

p.s So I originally wrote this before 2012 when I was around 13/14. It wasn't good, but I really love the story, and Dougie Poynter was my first crush so I rewrote it a few years back. Go into this, not expecting a great story, but the plot, well it's a little silly. But if you love Dougie Poynter you may like it for that fact.

I hoped I'd remember this tomorrow..

It felt good to be home. The tour was amazing, beyond amazing. We had also signed on for a ten album contract which was crazy.

But we had a few weeks over over Christmas to enjoy ourselves and relax before throwing ourselves into heavy work.

And what made it better, it was Jamie's birthday, he was turning two! We had a big party, well I say big. You had me there, Ashton, Luke and Athan obviously.

Dougie, Danny, Harry and Tom were here too. Along with their partners; Georgia, Izzy and Giovanna. Which was nice, it was nice having other girls around..

Ashton and Athan's parents were here too.

Jamie had started talking too, not brilliantly but enough that we could all understand what he wanted.

"Are you ready for presents?" I asked, and he nodded excitedly. I grabbed a present from myself and gave it to him. He opened it, ripping the paper and throwing it in every direction.

I had gotten him a wooden block sorter thing, he seemed to love it as he wanted to open to play with before opening anymore presents. The others had gotten him an assortment of books and toys.

It was a great day overall, Jamie's birthday cake was maybe the highlight, he blew his candles out, after a few attempts, and then started grabbing cake with both hands and eating it. I'm so pleased Luke got it all on camera too. Something to teases him about in years to come...

---------

Dougie's POV.

Y/N was out tonight, with Izzy, Gi and Georgia for a 'girl's night'

I was babysitting Jamie for the night, which was nice. I was teaching him words and playing whatever game he wanted to play. But my mind was with Y/N, I missed her. I wanted to be near her. I couldn't take it anymore.

I loved her.

I needed her. I couldn't wait anymore.

"Hey, earth to Doug!" I blinked to see Danny standing there.

"Yeah?" I answer, handing Jamie the block he wanted.

"You're thinking about her again, aren't you?" He asked, I nodded, sighing. There was no point in hiding my feelings now. I had been losing myself to the thought of her for weeks, months now... She was just, I don't know, it hit me, a few months ago. How crazy I was about her.

"Doug!" Danny yelled.

"Sorry, I can't stop thinking about her" I mumbled.

"Tell her then?" Danny suggested.

"I'm too scared Dan" I answered.

"Dougie! You do realise whilst you're sitting here, Y/N, could be out there, drunk talking and dancing with some other bloke, she might even sleep with someone and they might even end up together, and you will forever feel sad because you let that happen!" Danny ranted.

He was right.

"I can't let that happen" I say jumping up. Knocking Jamie's blocks over causing him to huff at me.

"Sorry bud" I say "Watch Jamie for me?" I ask Danny. Danny nodded, and I bolted out the door.

-----------

Y/N's POV.

"Two Porn Star Martini's and Four vodka shots please" I say to the bar tender. The four of us, Izzy, Gi, Georgie and me were near drunk now. But I had it in me to have my favourite cocktail and a few more shots.

When the drinks were finished, we downed the vodka shots, and the prosecco shots that came with the cocktails. And then we shared the cocktails until they were down too.

Our goal for tonight was to not remember tonight.

We made our way to the dance floor, giggling and dancing our cares away. And not caring how stupid we looked with our, maybe not so good dance moves.

I suddenly felt a body behind me, thinking it was a random man, I turned around to slap them. But it was Dougie..

"Hey baby" I heard him, I smiled and wrapped my arms around his neck, our bodies moving against one another.

His hands moved to my waist, moving my hips along with his.

"Feel good?" I winked, grinding my hips against his.

"You're drunk" He smirked, I giggled nodding.

I was so blurred now, the last drinks were hitting me. I barely knew what I was doing.

"Dougie, I love you" I say, kissing his jaw.

"I love you Y/N" I heard him say back. I smiled, and kiss his lips.

"Wanna get out of here?" He asked and I nodded.

"You sure?" He asks again,

"Never been more sure of anything" I answer, kissing him hard.

And then...

It was almost blurry when we left the club, I didn't tell the girls.

We got into the taxi, and kissed a lot. I don't remember Dougie paying the taxi driver...

We walked into my house, I'm so glad the boys were all busy tonight.

We sloppily made our way upstairs, kissing and not watching where we were going. I remember falling onto my bed, his hands all over me.

We were naked, rolling around the bed together... I hoped I'd remember this tomorrow..

(And that's where I finished it, though there is a sequel, maybe two annd a side story involving time travel. Ahh the Quotev days, they were fun and insane)

#fluff #dougie poynter x oc

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survey--s · 1 year ago

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653.

Do you know what the most common bird is in your area? Seagulls, pigeons, blackbirds, sparrows, robins.

What last made you feel ecstatic? Cancelling my weekend walk so I get a full weekend off without absolutely NOTHING planned for the first time since August lol.

What would make you feel happiest right now? If all my walks tomorrow cancelled but I still got paid, hahah.

How many teeth have you had extracted? Just my two upper wisdom teeth.

Do you ever read magazines? Not anymore, no.

What is something you’ve been reflecting on? Nothing in particular, really. I've been too busy lately to really reflect on much at all, hahah.

What’s something you like and dislike about the town you live in? I love the location - right by the sea and not far from the national park and all the amenities. I also love how friendly everyone is and how quick they are to help you out or support you if you need it. I do wish there was more to do though - it can be quite isolated in winter.

What’s a Halloween movie that you enjoy? I'm not into scary movies really but I do like The Addams Family movies with Christina Ricci, and The Nightmare Before Christmas.

Would you say you’re more confident now than you were 5 years ago? God yes, most definitely. Ian even commented on it last time I saw him at my old workplace.

Have you ever or would you try carrot bacon? I've never tried it but I would, yeah.

What’s the last thing you purchased that was frozen? Skin on fries.

Would you ever walk a runway if given the opportunity? If I was getting paid, sure.

When did you last do something that scared you? I honestly don't remember.

What is something that you’re curious about? Whether these calming meds for the dog will always be this effective. Honestly, it's been living having a different animal in the house today, he's been SO chilled out. It's amazing.

What time do you usually eat breakfast? During the week it's at about 8am, at weekends it depends on when I get up and what my plans are.

What is something you did as a child that you would never do now? Participate in team sports lol.

What’s been your favourite memory of 2022? Galloping down the beach in the sunshine on Joe.

When were you last inside a tall building? Uh, when we were in Manchester I guess. Our hotel was pretty tall.

Is it currently quiet in the room you’re in? I mean, it's not loud but the TV is on and I can hear the dryer running.

Is there someone you can honestly say you hate or have hated? No.

What’s currently on your mind? I kind of need a wee.

Would you consider yourself to be a messy person? No, I'm definitely the opposite of messy lol. I find mess/dirt really stressful, to be quite honest.

What makes you most anxious? When there's something wrong with any of the animals. We've had them all at the vets in the last few months and it's been both expensive and stressful lol.

When did it last rain where you live? It's raining now lol.

Do you prefer multi colored lights or white lights? I like warm white ones in general, but colourful ones are cute on the Christmas tree. Except we never have a Christmas tree because of the cats, ha.

What’s something you’d change about the world if given the chance? God, millions of different things. The world is a mess.

Would those closest to you say you talk too much or not much at all? It depends on the conversation, I guess. Some topics I can talk for hours, other times I just prefer to listen.

Do you consider yourself to be more basic or complex? In what ways are you like that? I honestly can't be arsed with a question like this lol.

Where is somewhere you’ve been wanting to go but haven’t had the chance? Tokyo, Skye, New Zealand.

Do you have a song you cannot listen to anymore due to a bad memory? No.

Have you ever had a candlelit dinner? Sure, quite a few times.

What was the last shot you’ve taken? Drink wise? Probably vodka. Injection wise, my last COVID booster.

Do you need to apologise for something or are you waiting on an apology? No and No.

What’s something you strongly believe in? Kindness to animals.

Do you have a dream that is close to being accomplished? Maybe I'm weird but I honestly don't have any specific treats.

Would you say you’re in a good place mentally? Yes, for sure.

What type of jokes are most funny to you? I'm a huge fan of dad humour lol.

Would you or have you ever had a pet rat or mouse? No, they don't really appeal to me. Plus we have cats.

Are you currently trying to make a decision on something? No.

When did you first start feeling more grown up? When I moved to university.

What kind of chapstick do you use? Vaseline or Burts Bees, whichever is closest.

How many pillows do you prefer to sleep with? Normally two, sometimes three, sometimes one.

What is something you’ve kept bottled up for a long time that you now have released? Hmm, nothing in particular comes to mind.

Have you ever broken a cell phone charger? Sure, loads of times. Especially those cheap fake Apple ones.

What’s a popular candy that you do not like? Wine Gums.

What scent is most prominent in your home? At the moment, the candle I have lit which is Pumpkin Pecan Waffle.

Have you been having odd dreams recently? Yeah, really vivid ones actually.

Do you frequently forget appointments? No, never.

What is currently sitting on top of your refrigerator? Two cats.

How many orange objects can you see from where you’re at? None.

Would you rather have extremely long hair or a very short hair cut? Long hair, I think.

When did you last use lotion? About two hours ago.

Do you currently have any prescription medications you need to pick up? No.

What’s your favorite kind of chips/crisps? Kettle Chips or Pringles.

How do you like your coffee or tea? If I'm at home, I just have them both with milk and sugar. I don't have tea out and about really, but coffee-wise I like Cappucinos and flavoured lattes.

#survey #surveys

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absurdthirst · 2 years ago

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Christmas For Hire {Dieter Bravo x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 22k

Warnings: Drug usage, strip clubs (we respect sex workers in this house), alcohol, lewd comments, oral sex (female receiving), protected sex, breeding kink (just talk), lactation kink (just talk), fantasy, Dieter being needy, angst, miscommunication

Comments: Alone and lonely for the holidays, Dieter finds himself in your place of work. Drunk and high, he offers you the deal of lifetime, $20k to pretend to be his girlfriend and give him a Christmas to remember. It might just be the best thing he's ever done.

A/N: Based off this GIF right here from Closer (2004)

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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

|| MasterList ||

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

The Christmas lights and ornaments that the owners strung up along the stage and the VIP booths seem to clash with the darkness that seems to shroud most clubs. Allowing the light from the stage to be the focus, and give the patrons some sense of privacy as they watch the lewd displays of skin as dancers twirl on the poles and create dance routines around surprisingly peppy Christmas music. Serving tray filled, you adjust your Santa hat and wink at the burly bartender before you set off to deliver the drinks.

Working as a cocktail waitress at a strip club was good money, you can’t deny that. Although some of the patrons never seem to understand that you aren’t a dancer. That no matter how many bills they stuff in your costumes, you will not grind on their laps or take them back into the Champagne Room. You just serve the champagne. “Double vodka with peach schnapps and soda.” You drop a drink off with a smile before moving on to deposit three beers and two tequila shots off to a group of military men who are watching Kandy before making your way back to the last booth in your section. The high roller booth. “Bottle of Dom and one glass.” You check the order even though you know it by heart. “And a Four Horsemen eggnog.” You give the man at the table a smile as you try not to fangirl over the fact that you are serving Dieter Bravo.

You walk off and Dieter can’t help but admire your ass. He smirks, glancing back at Kandy Kane dressed in a red and white outfit, her tits on display, but she’s not his type. Dieter crosses his arms, glancing around the room at the creepy men leering and he realizes he isn’t any better than them, spending the day before Christmas Eve loitering in a strip club. His family is gone; either dead or doesn’t speak to him. His friends only want him when he has drugs or money and he doesn’t want to indulge their bullshit so here he is, alone and watching titties while sipping a fucking eggnog. When you come back, he smiles in thanks. “Can you come sit with me?” He asks.

You see the glassy edge to his eyes, his pupils look like some kind of anime character, nearly blown out to where you can’t tell he has brown eyes. He’s high off his ass, something you have plenty of experience with in your job. Dancers or customers, all looking to forget for a while and even if you don’t do it yourself, you try not to judge. “Sure.” It would be nice to take a minute off your heels and take a small break. You had just made the rounds so you can spare a moment. You flop down into the booth and hum. “What brings you out tonight?” You ask, not mentioning you know who he is.

Dieter shrugs, “I haven’t got any Christmas plans so here I am. Looking at titties and drinking champagne.” He chuckles humorlessly. He knows his plans are pathetic but it’s all he has unless he decides to drink himself stupid through the holiday. “Sorry. You don’t want to listen to my shit.” He reaches for the money he has bundled up and hands you a hundred bucks. “Merry Christmas.”

You bite your lip before you fold the bill up and tuck it into your pocket. “Thank you.” Sliding towards the edge of the booth, you send him a searching look. “Can I get you some food? The burgers are horrible but the fries and hot wings are good.”

Dieter shakes his head, “no thanks. I am vegan right now….according to my agent.” Dieter winks and hands you another hundred dollars. “Get me some chicken wings, sweetheart. No one needs to know.” He picks up the glass of champagne, looking forward to some wings.

“Absolutely.” You grin and send him a conspiratorial wink of your own before you turn around to hurry towards the kitchen. You know that you shouldn’t flirt, it always turns out badly here, but it’s Dieter Bravo. The worst you think could happen is that he turns out to be an asshole and an asshole wouldn’t just give you a quarter of your rent in ten minutes.

Dieter watches you walk off, hips swaying and for a moment he wonders what you’d be like dancing on the stage. When you return with his plate, he groans at the sight of the wings. He hadn’t been able to eat meat due to the press being on his ass and he has missed it. “So what are you doing for Christmas Day?” Dieter asks you, curious to hear your plans and long for his own.

You shrug slightly watching him pick up a wing and smell it. He groans and his eyes flutter before he takes a bite and it’s kind of fascinating to see how eager he is for a chicken wing. “The usual.” You glance around to make sure the boss isn’t signaling or no one else needs anything. As much as you feel Dieter needs entertainment, you do have to serve others. “Probably lay around in my pajamas watching Christmas movies on Hallmark and baking some cookies.” Just a small batch, but nothing sounded better. Maybe sleeping in a little.

"No family?" Dieter asks with intrigue. You look like the kind of girl who has a boyfriend at home, parents, a dog. The whole shebang. You shake your head, "they live across the country and I can't afford to go home this year." You admit and Dieter frowns, hating to hear that. "I'm sorry. I'm alone too. My Christmas Day usually consists of too much booze and watching shit TV." He snorts, sipping the champagne after setting a bony chicken wing down.

You tilt your head, confused as to why someone famous like Dieter would spend the holidays alone. “Why don’t you have some kind of party? Hang out with friends?” You ask, not knowing much about Hollywood and actors. “Surely you don’t have to be alone if you don’t want to be. You’re- you know, Dieter Bravo.”

Dieter scoffs, “because I’m sick of the insincerity. The lack of authenticity around the holidays is disgusting. I want - I want something real. I want to bake cookies and watch shitty movies. I want to just be with someone and it be real.” He admits, sighs as he wipes his hands and turns to look at you. “God, you’re fucking gorgeous.” He groans, staring at you. You are prettier than the dancers, sexier for sure and he is still high when he blurts out “what does your cunt taste like?”

You don’t let things that come out of men’s mouths shock you anymore. If you did, you would be walking around with the surprised Picakchu face all the time, so you just lean in and give him a faint smile. “Heaven.” You promise silkily, watching his eyes widen when more as they flick down to your covered crotch. Now comes the moment where Dieter Bravo offers you more of those hundred dollar bills to find out and he goes from decent to asshole in your book. Which will be sad because you loved Hunger Strike.

Dieter swallows, knowing that you are what he has been looking for. “Come stay with me.” He demands and you shake your head.

“I’m sorry. I don’t sleep with-”

Dieter waves his hands, “no. I don’t want sex.” He shocks even himself with that statement, “I want to spend Christmas with you. I want to bake cookies. I want to watch movies. I want to decorate a tree. All the holiday shit. You come to my house. I want…I want you to pretend to be my spouse. No sex.” He promises, “just - I want to be normal. I want - I want to spend Christmas with you and I’ll pay you.”

It’s probably the most bizarre request you’ve ever had and that’s saying something considering one guy wanted to do a shot of Jack out of your asshole. You frown, hating that your immediate response is to ask how much but a girl has to pay her bills. “This isn’t some trick to get me to your house and pull some Armie Hammer shit, is it?” You ask suspiciously.

Dieter shakes his head, “fuck no. I like being tied up though.” He winks and you roll your eyes. “Seriously though, I don’t want sex. I just want company. It’s like…it’s like Pretty Woman. I just want a companion over the holidays and I like you. I’ll pay you…twenty thousand for two days. Until the day after Christmas.”

“Twe-twenty- thou-thousand?” You gasp out, eyes nearly popping out of your head as you try to imagine having that much money. “You want to pay me twenty thousand dollars to pretend to be your wife and do Christmas shit with you for two days? No sex? No funny stuff? I sleep alone?”

“You will have your own room. I just - I know it’s weird but I want you to pretend we are married and do traditional Christmas stuff with me. I, um, I have never really experienced it since my parents got divorced before I was three so I want to experience a real family Christmas. Just do the things most families do together.”

It’s crazy to consider it, you know it. Every bit of advice you give to dancers runs through your head; ‘don’t go home with that man’, ‘if it’s too good to be true, it is’. Still….twenty thousand dollars to bake cookies and watch movies sounds amazing. “Half upfront.” You demand, arching a brow in challenge.

Dieter grins, pleased you’ve agreed. “Deal.” He holds his hand out and you shake it, making him giggle with excitement. “I’ll have a car come pick you up in the morning. I’ll have my assistant get us everything we need for the holiday and I will have my assistant bring you the check for ten thousand in the morning. Unless you want me to transfer it now?” Dieter grabs the phone he hates carrying around.

“No, uh, in the morning is fine.” You bite your lip. “No, wait- yeah, a transfer would be okay.” You don’t trust checks because he could stop payment or it be bad. You don’t think he would scam you, but twenty thousand is so much money to you.

Dieter nods, “you have your phone? We can do it now.” He is desperate to have a proper Christmas, one like the stupid movies he watches and cries at when he’s alone. He watches you grab your phone from your apron and he smiles when you pull up your banking info. “Type it in sweetheart.” He hands You his phone for you to copy the information. For some reason, he trusts you. He’s in a strip club two days before Christmas but he just trusts you implicitly.

Dieter presses the transfer button, sending ten thousand to your account. It’s worth it. Every penny will be worth it if he can experience a picturesque Christmas. “Give me your address and my assistant will come and pick you up tomorrow.” He says, handing you back his phone so you can put your number in it.

Your eyes widen when you check your own phone and see an extra ten thousand in your account. “Uh, sure.” You bite your lip and open up your contact card to give him your full name, phone number and address. “Just, uh, if you change your mind about this, let me know and I’ll transfer the money back.” You promise, not believing that it would be right to keep it if he woke up tomorrow and realized he had made a mistake.

Dieter shakes his head, “I won’t.” He pulls another couple of hundred dollar bills and hands one to you, “for the wings. See you tomorrow, wifey, for our Hallmark Christmas.” He winks and stands, walking over to the stage to toss the other bill to Kandy Kane before he sways slightly as he walks out of the club, still high as a kite but he’s already dialing his assistant to get everything ready for you.

****

Normally you sleep until noon in the afternoon when you work because of the hours - not closing until three or four and then getting home. This morning, however, you were wide awake at 9, showering and trying to decide what to pack for two days at Dieter’s house. Where does he live? You don’t have a clue, but it has to be better than the cramped apartment you share with your roommate in a rundown area. It could be worse, but it could also be a lot better but it’s what you can afford while you work your ass off to better yourself. Deciding to have a few things to change into, you put on leggings and your most festive Christmas sweaters. Wondering if this is really happening as you nervously watch the clock.

Dieter is brushing his hair, almost treating this like a role as he styles his usually messy hair into a gelled back comb. His sweater is expensive and rarely worn except for press events but it helps him get into character and he smiles, excited to spend Christmas with someone. He had a tree delivered this morning and his assistant laid out the decorations for you and him to decorate the tree. There’s ingredients for dinners and hot chocolate and cookies. The kitchen is almost overflowing and Nat King Cole’s smooth voice is already flowing through the house.

A driver…a fucking driver comes to pick you up from your apartment. Dressed in a suit and driving the cleanest SUV you’ve ever seen in your life. On the backseat, there is a package for you, presumably from his assistant and you open it up to find an NDA ready to be signed and a list of activities and foods that they have prepared. “Jesus, money really does buy what you want.” You mutter as you sign the papers and stuff them back inside. You don’t care about not being able to talk about this with anyone, who would believe you? You look out the window and feel like a tourist as the driver takes you to the Sherman Oaks area.

Dieter struggles to contain himself when he gets the text that you are on your way. His assistant had you send a photo of the NDA and so Dieter is confident that he can make this an amazing time...you are going to give him what he wants: a proper holiday. He paces, shoving his hands in his pants as he waits for you to arrive at his home.

You are nervous when you stop in front of a gorgeous house. It’s large, a little bit more traditional than you were expecting, but it screams that this person has money. Lord knows you would never live somewhere like this. You wait until the driver opens the door and slide out, shouldering your purse and biting your lip as you try to gather your nerves. He just wants a Christmas experience and you had decided to shove a small present and some wrapping paper in your bag, something ridiculous, but what do you buy a movie star who wants you to act like his wife for Christmas? “Here we go.” You mutter to yourself, the driver getting your bag as you walk up the path to the front door.

When the doorbell rings, Dieter brushes his hair back and rushes to open the door. Grinning when he sees you, he steps ahead to let you in. "Come in. Come in." He gestures with his hands too, excitement making him like an over eager puppy. He has the music playing and he is ready to get the holiday season started.

You don’t exactly know what you were expecting, but you weren’t expecting Dieter to look so….put together. He looks like he’s attending a Christmas movie premier, and his eyes are bright and excited. “Hi.” You step into the house and look around, not surprised that it’s clean since you’re sure he has a maid or housekeeper or something. “Hope you weren’t waiting too long.” You offer.

Dieter shakes his head, admiring you. You look just as beautiful as you did last night except you're wearing leggings and a Christmas sweater so it's his fucking dream come true. He smiles, watching you for a moment. "Not at all. Come in. I'll show you to your room." He says, reaching out to take your bags from the driver before the driver shuts the door and leaves you alone with the actor.

“This house is gorgeous.” You gush, looking around at the obvious designer decor. It looks very un-lived in, but maybe he liked it that way. “It’s going to look amazing after we decorate it for Christmas.”

Dieter grins, "absolutely! I have so much I want to do. I want to have eggnog and make hot chocolate. I want to bake sugar cookies and decorate them and I want to decorate the tree and watch movies and - shit. We need to get started." He rushes out, carrying your bags and he sets your bags down in the beautiful guest room.

You can’t help but laugh at the enthusiasm, it is a far cry from most men at the holidays. You hum, delighted at the bedroom and you know you won’t have any problem staying here for two days. “So, how about we turn on a Christmas movie while we get started on the cookies and we can decorate the tree while they are baking?” You suggest. “While drinking hot chocolate. We’ll save the eggnog for when we are snuggled in watching movies tonight.” You send him a small wink. “Boozy eggnog is my favorite.”

Dieter groans at the thought. God, this was his best idea ever. “I love that. Let’s do it!” He’s practically bouncing as he watches you open your bag. “Come on baby. We haven’t got all day. Let’s get started!” He whines a little, wanting you to hurry up so the festivities can begin.

His giddiness is almost infectious and you put down your toiletry case. “Okay.” You kick off your shoes and grin at him. “Let’s go make sure we’ve got everything we need.”

Dieter practically giggles as he takes your hand and guides you through the house to the kitchen, proudly displaying everything his assistant had purchased for your Christmas spectacular. “Sugar cookies.” Dieter says as he walks over to the section labeled “cookie making.” His assistant laid everything out for what he declared he wanted to do.

“Wow.” You whistle under your breath and look over all the ingredients happily. “Do you want to have some hot chocolate while we mix up cookie dough or do you want to save that for decorating the tree?” The open concept kitchen and living area was perfect for seeing the large 85 inch TV and the 12 foot Christmas tree from the island.

Dieter shakes his head, "let's have it later." He reaches out to touch your arm, "thank you for coming here sweetheart. I- I haven't ever experienced a proper Christmas. My parents...they got divorced when I was a kid but they - they were always arguing during the holidays." He rolls his eyes and walks over to the oven, biting his lip. "Um, do you know how this works?"

It’s sad that he’s not had a proper Christmas, that the people who had made him couldn’t put aside their differences to give their child good memories. “I do.” You are intrigued by the idea that he doesn't know how to use his own stove. “I typed up my favorite recipes on my phone.” You announce, swiping it open and grinning. “We need to preheat the oven to 375.”

Dieter bites his lip, “could you- I don’t know how to use this. I don’t really, um, I don’t really cook. Ever.” He admits with flushed cheeks, feeling a little useless. He should know this basic shit but his parents never taught him.

“No worries!” You wave away his embarrassment as if it’s nothing. “One apartment I lived in only had two burners that worked and the oven only heated up to a certain temp.” You tell him as you walk over and examine the knobs. “Every one of them is different.” You press the button and turn the temperature knob, smirking when the LED screen for the oven lights up. “Perfect!”

Dieter smiles, watching you, and he is glad you are here. He made a good choice with you. You’re patient and kind already. Perfect for Christmas. He watches you set the oven and he bites his lip, wondering what to do next. “I haven’t made cookies either.” He confesses feeling so stupid.

“Best part about cookies is eating the dough.” You promise him before grabbing the very Christmasy aprons his assistant has bought. “Okay, cover that very sexy sweater so we don’t get flour on it and we are going to make the perfect sugar cookies for tonight!” The Christmas music is playing through the subtle spears in the house and you just feel good right now. Wanting to make this special for him.

He can’t help but smirk at you, “you think this sweater is sexy?” You playfully roll your eyes, making him chuckle, and he winks at you while he ties the apron around his waist. You quickly get to work, showing him what to measure for the ingredients and soon enough, he’s using the cookie cutter for the dough. “I’m doing it.” He says more to himself, a wide grin on his face as he admires the Christmas tree shaped cookie.

“Here, try some.” You pinch a small ball of dough in your fingers and offer it to him. You had expected him to take from you with his hand, but Dieter leans down and eats the cookie dough from your fingers, his tongue brushing over your skin and making you giggle slightly.

He groans as the sweetness hits his tongue and he swallows the bite. “Shit that’s good stuff. Almost like crack…and I should know.” He teases, winking at you and he continues cutting out the cookies. “So…are you from L.A?” He asks, wanting to know more about you.

You want to give him a few details, but you also want to keep this magical for him. Looking over his shoulder, you supervise his cookie cutting and hum. “Oh you know, same old story as everyone else. The glamor of L.A. was exciting and then I realized it’s not that great.” You shrug slightly, moving over to a saucepan to start measuring out ingredients for some hot chocolate to cook while the cookies are baking. “But my favorite story is how we met.” You tell him, sending him back a playful wink when he looks at you confused. “Who knew my runaway dog from my dog walking job would lead to being married to Dieter Bravo.”

Dieter grins when he picks up your storyline, and he walks over to you, placing his floured hands on your hips. “Is this okay?” He asks and you nod. “I thought you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Flustered with those dogs but still so gorgeous.” He smiles at you.

“Please.” You roll your eyes and stir the simmering chocolate on the stove. “I was a mess and the hottest guy who I’ve ever seen catches the little terror and is calmly feeding him the beef jerky he was eating.”

Dieter smirks, “beef jerky? I’m supposed to be vegan. Polls well among my fans. Weed and vegetables. No jerky.” He teases, internally puffing his chest at you calling him the hottest guy you’ve ever seen but he knows you are just playing along. “Then we went for coffee and we just hit it off. Who knew you’d have been my future wife?”

“Well since you are vegan, I guess I better change my plans from the beef wellington I was planning to make for Christmas dinner.” You tease, watching his eyes widen slightly. “Maybe some mushroom steaks instead? Hubby?” You wink again, enjoying the sense of teasing and playfulness, something you think he doesn’t do with a lot of people.

Dieter shakes his head, eyes horrified. “Absolutely not. You have to make it. No one will know.” He pleads, voice taking on a whining quality as his grip on your hips tightens slightly. “Please baby. Can you please make beef wellington?”

You smirk and lean back against him. “Of course, honey.” You purr. “We are going to have a perfect Christmas dinner followed up by way too many cookies for dessert.” The timer you set goes off and you hum. “First batch needs to come out to cool before we decorate them.”

Dieter grins with excitement, letting go of you so you can take the cookies out of the oven. He leans over, admiring his handiwork and he beams, excited that he actually makes something edible. He makes some more cookies with the cutters, glancing at you constantly, and he is reminded once more of what a good idea this was of his. To have you in his home, indulging in his fantasy of a perfect Christmas.

Once more cookies are in the oven and the hot chocolate is poured up into large mugs, you motion towards the large Christmas tree that is standing bare next to a gorgeous picture window that spans from floor to ceiling and gives immaculate views of the city. “Do you want to start putting the lights and ornaments on the tree?” You ask, noticing that everything looks brand new, like it was just purchased.

“Yeah.” Dieter shuffles slightly, embarrassed. “My assistant went and got all this today, I didn’t have any decorations.” He admits.

“That’s okay.” You don’t want to judge him, not when he’s so happy about all of this. “They look like they will be gorgeous and you can always pick out a few more to add every year. You know, make it a tradition.”

Dieter is buzzing as you start to put lights around the tree, helping you and when you’re on the ladder to finish the top part, he can’t help but admire your ass. You are gorgeous, he can’t help noticing that, but the way you are making him feel is engineered by the holiday spirit. It’s not real, even if he’s desperately pretending it is.

“All that is left is the star.” You announce, looking back down at him and choosing to ignore the way that he was staring at your ass. “Honey, you would do the honors and put it on?” You ask, holding it out to him as you climb back down. “I think it should be you to do it.”

Dieter flusters but agrees, smiling at you as he replaces you on the ladder and proudly places the star on top of the tree. Pride of place and looking so beautiful. The tree looks like something from a fairy tale and Dieter cannot be happier. He steps off of the ladder and wraps his arm around your waist, “thank you.” He leans in to kiss your cheek before he looks back at the tree to admire it.

“It looks amazing.” You grab your phone and take a quick selfie with Dieter in front of the tree. It won’t be something you show to anyone but you deserve a memento of your hard work and beautiful decorating together. “The cookies should be ready to decorate if you want to do that.” You offer, knowing he wants to pack as much Christmas spirit as he can into the two days.

Dieter nods, so grateful that you are going along with this like you actually are his wife. He smiles, “that sounds amazing baby.” He doesn’t even think about not calling you baby but he likes the way it sounds when he talks to you. He smiles, playfully rubbing your back as he guides you into the kitchen and admires the Christmas tree from its place across the room.

The last batch of cookies come out of the oven to cook while you arrange all the decorative frostings and sprinkles. “So I have a friend who makes those really fancy cookies, and she made ones that look like gray sweatpants, complete with a package impression.” You give a dirty little laugh as you outline the star cookie you’re decorating in red frosting. “Love those damn cookies.”

Dieter raises his eyebrow, surprised at you but he equally loves that you’re a little dirty. He smirks, watching you, and he snorts when you wink at him. “They taste good?” He asks, picking up the white icing and he growls in frustration when he fucks it up immediately.

“Honey, don’t worry.” You reach over and pick up a toothpick to smooth out the mistake. “See? Anything you don’t like, over it in sprinkles or the colored sugar. Imperfect cookies are the best tasting ones.”

Dieter hates that it isn’t perfect but he lets it go, swallowing harshly as he starts to put sprinkles on the cookie. You calling him honey has his stomach twisting and he bites his lip, trying to concentrate on the next cookie he is decorating.

“This is a lot of fun.” You admit, giving him a smile as the decorated cookies pile up. “I love making cookies. Always dreamed of being like those movies where you exchange cookies with your neighbors every holiday.”

Dieter grins, “I wish it was like that but L.A isn’t exactly a picturesque holiday scene. It’s too hot, and palm trees don’t really scream Christmas. Plus…my neighbors are assholes.” He snorts, shaking his head as you both finish up the last of the cookies. He’s gotten better at decorating.

You wonder how much the neighbors are really assholes and how much of it is just being done with Dieter’s antics, imagining him to be a handful as a neighbor. Instead of asking, you just send him a warm grin. “Well that just means more cookies for us.”

Dieter grins, “I like the way you think, baby.” He finishes up the last cookie with flare, sprinkling the edible glitter over it with a flourish. “They look delicious. Can we - do you want to watch a movie and have a few cookies?” He asks, not even thinking about the mess in the kitchen.

“We have to.” You whirl around the open the fridge and pull out some milk. “Why don’t we turn on the Hallmark channel? They always have great, cheerful, romantic movies. Or we can find some classics?”

Dieter bites his lip, “my favorite movie is It’s a Wonderful Life. Can we watch that?” He asks, knowing it’s a classic but it’s not exactly cheery like Elf. That’s probably why he likes it. A bit of misery mixed with the joy makes it more relatable.

You immediately melt, giving a sappy sigh. “I love It’s a Wonderful Life.” You admit breathlessly. “For me, it’s a must watch every single year.” You start poking around in his cabinets to look for glasses and luck upon them when you open the first door. “Why don’t you go turn it on and I’ll bring in the milk?”

He beams, so excited that you want to watch the movie he so dearly loves and has watched since he was a kid. He kisses your cheek before he rushes into the living room, grabbing the remote to turn on his ridiculously big TV. He works fast to find the movie in his library and puts it on, the music starting just as you sit down with the tray of cookies and milk.

“I love Jimmy Stewart movies.” You reach over to hand Dieter a tall glass of milk. “I remember watching Mr. Smith Goes to Washington in school when I was younger and it made me want to make movies back then.” You chuckle at your younger wide eyed dreams and lean back against his expensive couch with one of the obviously new Christmas blankets to pull over your lap. “What made you want to act, honey?”

Dieter bites his lip, “I, uh, I didn’t really want to be an actor. My mom…she decided to take me for a kids casting call for a commercial when I was four and I’ve been in the business ever since. Got cast in a movie when I was ten and I’ve had roles ever since. During the lockdown, I was crawling out of my skin so I took Cliff Beasts 6 to get out of my house. Acting is all I’ve ever known.”

You feel horrible for him, wondering if he would have chosen something else if he had the opportunity to. “Well, you’re an amazing actor.” You promise him, reaching over and laying your hand on his leg. “Hunger Strike is great, but my favorite one was the little Indy movie you did a couple of years ago, Horizon? It just- I loved it. You should have won another Oscar.”

Dieter grins, reaching for your hand. “I loved that movie so much. As soon as I read the script, I knew I had to be in it. My agent didn’t think it was high profile enough but I didn’t care. It was a passion project.” He confesses, blushing a little since you have watched his movies.

“You should do more of them.” You insist, squeezing his hand. “Doesn’t matter if they are high profile or not, your fans will love it and who knows? You can shine a spotlight on some small, just getting started directors, give them a boost up.”

Dieter nods, “I have a few scripts that I’ve been sent that I need to read from new writers and new directors. Do you, uh, do you have a dream? Other than working at the club?” He asks, keeping his hand in yours.

“Honestly?” You give a small shrug. “I would love to write.” You admit, almost bashfully. You’ve never told many people about it and you hope he’s not the type to think it’s stupid. “Books.”

Dieter’s eyes widen, “you write? What do you write about? Do you have any excerpts? I fucking love reading. Wish I had more time for it honestly. Tell me more.” He demands, eyes wide and eager.

The movie plays in the background but neither one of you is paying attention. You squirm slightly and give a small, embarrassed shrug. “I’m sure that it’s not something you want to read.” You say breezily, sure that he will roll his eyes. “I write- I like writing romance, but like- science fiction romance?”

Dieter snorts and you instantly deflate but he shakes his head. “Baby girl, I read fucking Twilight. I love romance. I love sci-fi. Tell me what your idea is.”

It makes you feel a little better but you still chew on your lip. “I want to write a series where the main character is a hunter, her family was destroyed by vampires when she was little and so it’s her mission to kill them. She gets bitten by a werewolf along the way.” You grin. “I also want to add the element of soulmates so it ends up that the latest vampire she is chasing would have been hers as a human and he hates werewolves.”

Dieter contemplates your idea for a few moments, making you squirm, until he grins. “That sounds fucking incredible!” He says in awe of your imagination. “Have you started writing this?”

“A little.” You huff. “It's hard to write with the schedule I work, or I’m just emotionally worn out by the way I’m constantly fending off sleazeballs at the club.” You snort. “They don’t seem to understand that I serve drinks, not handjobs.”

Shaking his head, Dieter squeezes your hand. “Assholes. Respect and consent are fucking important and necessary. If I go to a club, I always make sure I ask if I can touch. Not that I- I don’t want a happy ending.” He flusters, “I can get laid in a heartbeat without paying but I- I want something that actually means something.”

“Of course you can.” You don’t doubt that. He’s Dieter Bravo. “You’re hot, first and foremost, but you’re also famous.” Being hot is more important to you, it doesn’t matter that he’s famous, or rich.

Dieter shakes his head, "see? I don't want someone to want me simply because I'm Dieter Bravo. I want someone to want me because they want me. Who I truly am. The real Dieter but...I don't even know if I know who I truly am anymore." He confesses, biting his lip.

You snort, shaking your head. “I wasn’t saying that being famous is the most important part. You’re genuinely hot.” You huff at him. “You don’t realize that? I’m sure that someone who isn’t vapid would soak up the real you. Come on, you obviously want love and happiness. Maybe you would even do less drugs.”

Dieter chuckles, “I wish. It’s a fucking expensive addiction to have. Do you - are you - do you take any drugs?” He swears he can’t speak around you. You get him tongue tied because you’re so goddamn beautiful, especially sitting there wearing the Christmas sweater and that sparkle in your eye. He won’t push for more, that’s not what this is about and he didn’t pay money for sex, he wants the fantasy of Christmas he’s always longed for.

“No, I’ve been lucky. Been offered them plenty of times but beyond smoking some weed every now and again, I don’t do anything.” You know Dieter has, you watched him OD on camera during the behind the scenes thing for Cliff Beasts. “Most I do is drink.”

Dieter nods, “I can respect that. Drugs…it numbs the loneliness. I guess I thought by now I’d have a wife and my own family to look after, enjoy the holidays with. I haven’t been so lucky.” He sighs, keeping your hand in his. “Anyway, let’s rewind the movie and watch it.” He says, reaching for the remote to deflect off of him.

You let the conversation die, not wanting him to be mired in misery. Your job here is to make him feel like he’s having a proper Christmas. “Let’s turn on your fireplace.” You suggest, knowing that it’s not cold enough, but it would be a pretty aesthetic. “Turn off the lights and have the tree lit up. I know it’s still light outside but it’s the atmosphere that makes it, right?”

Dieter nods, almost making himself dizzy and he grabs the remote for the fireplace. “It’s fake.” He chuckles, making you snort, and he turns the fireplace on while you turn on the Christmas tree. It’s picture perfect and when you settle on the sofa, he restarts the movie. He smiles at you and shifts to lay down, resting his head in your lap.

You melt a little at how desperate Dieter is for affection. Your fingers tangle into his hair and you play with it while you watch the movie. You hum as Jimmy’s character talks about Mary wanting the moon and how he will get it for her. It’s something that you want, but you don’t think anyone will ever be that for you. To care about what you want and try to make you happy. You want a mutual relationship, where someone cares for you as much as you care for them.

Dieter groans as your fingers card through his hair. It’s intoxicating and he almost closes his eyes as he struggles to concentrate on the movie. It’s been so long since someone touched him like this. He nuzzles his cheek into your thigh, just breathing you in as the faux fire crackles and the Christmas lights twinkle. This is what he’s yearned for. “That feels so good, baby.” He hums, keeping his eyes on the screen.

“Just relax and enjoy it.” You murmur softly. It’s nothing for you to play with his hair and you have him almost purring. It’s fun, curling your finger around the small curls and every now and again you scratch his scalp, knowing how much you would love it.

Dieter can’t help but twitch in his pants at the feel of you scratching his scalp. He fucking loves it. With a groan, he tries to discreetly reach down and adjust himself, watching the movie and you from the corner of his eye to see if you notice.

You smirk to yourself when you see him adjust himself, continuing to scratch his head. You just pretend like you don’t know what it's doing to him. So he’s getting turned on by having his head scratched? You’ve been turned on by things that catch you off guard. “Does that feel good, honey?” You ask softly, looking back at the tv.

Dieter is flustered by what you’re doing to him. He never usually gets hard from this kind of thing. He’s had men and women expose every part of themselves and he’s twitched but not gotten hard. This intimacy, the atmosphere has him hard and aching for you but that’s not what he paid you for. He doesn’t want to take advantage and ruin this. This is about the holiday, not sex. The movie is coming to an end and Dieter’s cock is still hard but he has tears in his eyes as he watches Jimmy on screen. So many emotions that he identifies with and yet so many he doesn’t truly understand despite acting them out.

“It always makes me cry.” You sniffle slightly, blinking back tears when you hear them singing at the end. “It’s just so- wonderful.” You laugh at yourself for being such a sap, and sigh, stroking Dieter’s hair one last time before you have to stop touching him.

Dieter sighs in both contentment and a little upset you’ve stopped running your fingers through his hair. “Can we watch something else? Maybe, um, maybe Love Actually? It’s another one of my favorites.” He confesses with a blush as he looks up at you.

You smile at the idea that this man who has so many wild antics in Hollywood has a secret affinity for Love Actually. “We can do that, although we should probably eat more than cookies right? What do you want to eat, honey?”

Dieter bites his lip, “my assistant gets my groceries so I don’t…I don’t really know what I have in the fridge.” He confesses, feeling stupid for not knowing. “But…I wouldn’t mind grilled cheese and tomato soup.” He tilts his head at you.

“That honestly sounds like a perfect meal.” You admit, your own stomach agreeing happily. “Why don’t you come with me and we can make it together?” You suggest. “It’ll be fun. We can use the cookie cutters and make Christmas grilled cheese sandwiches.”

Dieter practically cheers as he shuffles off of the sofa. “Hell yes. I love the way you think, baby!” He grins as he rushes to the kitchen to get started on the dinner with you. This is more than he could’ve ever wanted. You are indulging his every fantasy…well, most of them.

You love the idea that the dinner you are making isn’t something fancy or involved. Simple comfort food that always hits the spot and makes you feel cozy. There is canned soup in his pantry, which is amazingly large and you can just dream of having one day, and there are different cheeses and bread to make the perfect sandwiches. “I love your kitchen.” You gush as you get everything out. “Soooo much.”

Dieter grins, pleased that you like his home. “I didn’t design it. I just bought this home. It used to belong to Brad Pitt.” He snorts, “good thing it wasn’t in the divorce settlement. At least I haven’t been married.” He shrugs, a little upset by that fact but marriages in Hollywood are destined for failure. There are too many temptations and offers.

“What kind of wedding would you want?” You ask curiously as you open the cans and dump them into a pan to warm up the soup. He’s got everything you could want in a kitchen but he obviously doesn’t use it. If you had this kitchen you would cook every day. “Big, small? Lavish, courthouse?”

Dieter leans against the counter and watches you, “I would want a small wedding. Just me and my partner. I don’t have any family and my friends…they aren’t real. Just fake friends who want whatever I can give them.” He sighs, rubbing his cheek, “I’d want a beach wedding. Just me and my partner and no distractions or press.”

“That sounds really nice.” You smile at the thought, imagining Dieter in some white Hawaiian shirt and linen pants, barefoot and grinning happily. “I could see that. Something towards sunset, warm and intimate.” You imagine it for yourself for a moment before dismissing it as stupid. Dieter asked you to spend Christmas with him, not the rest of your life and you know that he could be fickle from what the magazines report. “I hope you get that.”

Scratching his cheek, Dieter sighs. “I guess we will see. Doesn’t look like it’s on the cards for me but who knows? Maybe one day.” He offers you a weak smile and turns towards the bread. “Do you want me to do anything?”

“Do you want to butter the bread and decide how cheesy you want the sandwiches to be?” You ask as you open the cabinets to see about finding the spices. Canned soup is always better when you add spices.

Dieter nods, excited to be doing something like this after so long of depending on others to just look after him. He’s hungry today. Probably because he hasn’t gotten high enough to tune out the hunger like he does on days when he’s feeling self conscious. “So what about your dating life? Anyone on your mind?” Dieter asks as he butters the bread.

You snort and shake your head. “Yeah, let me tell you, my dating options are fantastic.” You huff. “Anyone I tell where I work automatically assumes I’m a dancer or that I’m a prostitute.” You roll your eyes. “Or that I’m easy and want to be their doormat. So I just….don’t date.”

Dieter shakes his head, “people can be fucking idiots. You are doing your job. You’re a cocktail waitress. You aren’t paid to take your clothes off and if you do, you discuss that with your partner and ensure you have proper communication. I have been naked for movie scenes and I’ve talked to my partner about it beforehand to make sure they understand it’s just acting. Also, it’s insane you don’t date. No matter what you do for work, you’re fucking gorgeous and anyone with eyes would be dumb to let your job be a deal breaker.”

“Men can be very weird about things like that.” You give a small shrug and bite back the comment that you are well aware of his nude scenes. It’s always been one of those things that you thought ridiculous where you see everything on a woman and you only see the man’s ass on tv. Although Dieter does have a nice, albeit tiny, ass. “But thank you. I’ve also been told I have high standards for wanting a man to not cheat on me. Apparently being okay with looking but not touching isn’t enough.”

Dieter snorts, “I’m all for free love. If my partner is happy with it. I’ve had threesomes, foursomes, orgies. But never, ever, without the implicit consent of my partner. Most of those times I’ve been single though. Cheating is just fucked up. Just don’t be with someone if you’re gonna cheat on them.” He rolls his eyes, “that’s just wrong. I don’t agree with that shit. When you’re with someone, you’re with them. If not, just break up. Don’t cheat. It’s cruel.” He shakes his head.

You are so surprised at his view on things, although you really appreciate it. “Thank you!” You point the spoon at him. “Exactly. Just be single. Don’t fucking try to justify it by ‘oh I know you’re sleeping with dudes at work’ or ‘well you don’t give me seven blowjobs a week’. Just admit you aren’t made for a monogamous relationship and find something that works for you. Don’t be shitty and lie.”

Dieter nods, “precisely. Just be honest about what you want instead of selling the house and 2.5 kids then go and stick your dick in everything with a pulse. If you wanna do that, find a partner who can accept that. Me…I’ve kinda had my fill of orgies.” He admits seriously, “I’m tired of emotionless sex.”

“I’ve honestly never been into orgies.” You admit. “I’m selfish, I don’t want to share.” You’ve had your experiences and decided it wasn’t for you. “Besides, I’ve found most threesomes are about a guy wanting two girls but being insulted when you want another guy and pitching a fit.”

“Idiots.” Dieter rolls his eyes again, “you’ll find someone who will appreciate you and adore you without needing any of that extra shit.” He promises you, offering you a soft smile. “You’re a beautiful woman, inside and out, and you’ll find the right person.”

“Thank you.” It’s incredibly sweet of him to say that, and you give him a smile of gratitude. “You will find the same thing. Someone who just wants to take care of you and shower you in love and affection.”

Dieter’s heart thumps and he walks over to you at the stove, kissing your cheek. “Thank you, baby.” He knows this doesn’t exactly play into his fantasy but he likes talking to you about your realities. It gives him perspective and he is excited to spend Christmas with you.

Finishing dinner is relatively simple and soon you have another tray of food to bring out to the living room. “This is going to be a great holiday.” You murmur as the sun starts to set and the lights from the Christmas tree appear brighter.

Dieter beams as you tell him it’s going to be a wonderful holiday. He agrees and if so excited to be spending the holiday exactly as he’s always dreamed. He just wishes it was with his family, his children and you as his wife. It’s too easy to imagine when you sit down next to him.

The movie starts and you hand Dieter his bowl of soup and the star shaped grilled cheese slices. “So, when you have babies, how many do you want?” You ask him, really unable to see him with a baby. Maybe like that guy from The Hangover with the kid strapped to his chest.

Dieter dips the sandwich into the soup, chewing as he considers it. “I want at least three.” Your eyes widen and he shrugs, “I have enough money to care for twenty kids. I have the home for them, I have the staff. I just need a woman to have them.”

You snort, imagining him offering money to women to have babies with him. “Okay, Nick Canon, slow the baby gravy train down.” You joke before you take a bite of your own soup.

Dieter playfully rolls his eyes, “I said three. Not twelve. Besides, I don’t want multiple women. I want one. One that I- that I love. It’s just, it’s hard to find because I’m not easy to live with, easy to handle.”

“What are you talking about?” You huff and roll your eyes at his ridiculous comment. “You aren’t difficult to handle. Look at us. Last night you were asking how my cunt tastes and you are perfectly respectful and not acting like a jerk. You are thankful for what I’m doing for you and you are eager to be involved.”

He blushes at your kind words, knowing that he isn’t easy to handle, but you seem to be able to take him in your stride. Reminded of him asking you what your cunt tastes like has him blushing even more. “I, uh, I’m sorry about the, um, the cunt comment. Although I’m sure it does taste like heaven. I was high and I tend to just blurt things out.”

You laugh. “I thought it was funny, at least you were respectful about it, even then.” You don’t want him to beat himself up over it. “You seem like you are respectful of boundaries when they are pointed out. So, please don’t worry about it. At least I have an amazing story. Dieter Bravo asked how I taste.” You laugh again and wink at him playfully.

Dieter chuckles before he takes another bite of the grilled cheese. “You’d be the perfect wife though. You are gorgeous, kind, you can cook, you - any guy would be lucky to have you.” He tells you with a soft smile before he sips on his soup. He knows it’s just a fantasy but it’s too easy to see you in his life.

Your stomach flips and you manage a grin. “Well, when you find someone who wants me, let me know.” You joke, wishing that you didn’t feel vulnerable, like it was never going to happen for you. “Or I’ll just, you know, come spend Christmas with you until you find that perfect wife to give you three babies.”

Dieter grins, “I wouldn’t object to that. Maybe we could just spend the rest of our Christmases together.” He says without truly considering it, just imagining every Christmas like this but with kids running around. It’s a heavy thought but it doesn’t scare him. You seem to put him at ease. “So, um, do you have any plans to have kids in the future?”

“I want them.” You admit, with a small shrug. “But I have to find the guy and a better job. One where I wouldn’t be working at night or worrying about guys hitting on me more because I’m pregnant.” You roll your eyes, remembering how some of them went crazy for one of the dancers when she had been pregnant.

Dieter understands, knowing how guys can act around a pregnant woman. “You’d be a beautiful pregnant woman. I understand why you’d be hit on and I- I know why you’d want a different job.” He doesn’t judge you for your job but he knows why you’d want to change it if you were pregnant.” He wants to tell you he’d provide for you but he knows he can’t be that forward. He barely knows you. “Men can be creeps.” He scoffs, knowing how his sex can be.

“Besides….” You shake your head. “I’m never going to get what I really want.” You sigh.

“What’s that?” Dieter asks and you bite your lip. “I’d love to be able to get to a point where I could be home with the baby, at least until they are in school. But I would need to become successful first to afford that.”

Dieter sets his now empty plate down and takes your hand in his. “So you become a writer…become successful…and then you’re able to stay at home and look after a baby. Well, shit. We can make that happen. I’m sure my agent has contacts. Do you have any pages written for your idea?”

You’re surprised that he wants to help you out, but you nod, knowing you’ve got at least three chapters down. “I can send you the document if you want to read it.”

“Hell yes. Please baby. Send it to me. I want to read it. See how good you are and maybe I can have my agent send some pages to a publisher so we can get you someone early.” Dieter nods and looks eager to help.

You blink, surprised that he would be willing to use his connections to help someone else. You don’t know how many articles call Dieter selfish and spoiled, maybe catered to was more accurate, but this was kinder than anyone else has ever been about your writing before. “Thank you.” You gush out, leaning over and kissing his cheek softly.

Dieter’s heart thumps as you kiss his cheek and he flusters, shaking his head. “It’s nothing. It’s, uh, the least I can do. Everyone deserves a chance in this hell hole of a town. Everyone deserves a shot at their dreams.” He declares and then looks back at the movie, “oh this is my favorite part.” He points at the screen as Hugh Grant dances around on the screen.

You look back at the movie and giggle at him gyrating his hips on camera. “He’s a better dancer than you are.” You tease, having seen him dance on the behind the scenes they had put out on the disastrous Cliff Beasts saga.

“Hey!” Dieter pouts at you, “don’t be mean.” He winks at you after a moment, “to be fair, I was high for 99% of that movie and was high when I was dancing so I didn’t really get a chance to be a good dancer.” He chuckles, nudging you gently.

“Oh really?” You grin and put your plate down. Leaping to your feet, you grab his hand. “So come on, show me.” You demand, pausing the movie. “Turn on some music and dance with me. Show me those moves.”

"Oh shit." Dieter grins and shakes his head as he lets you drag him up. He bites his lip, making his way over to the stereo system he owns, complete with huge speakers and a turntable. He's never been a streaming music kind of guy. He loves the feel of vinyl, the sound, it reminds him of his childhood. He picks up a Christmas album while you pause the movie and he grins as the song starts to play through the speakers, reaching for your hand.

Dieter pulls you towards him and you try to ignore the way that your heart races. This isn’t real and he shouldn’t be making you imagine this is everyday, dancing together in the home you share together. “Your assistant bought this today, didn’t she?” You ask with a grin as the words to Jingle Bell Rock pours out of the speakers and both of you start to move to the beat.

Dieter shakes his head, “no. I’ve had my vinyls since I was a kid. I collect them. Nothing like music. I fucking love it, especially on vinyl. Streaming just isn’t the same sound.” Dieter spins you around and he pulls you back into his chest, his hands gripping your waist.

Your grin turns into a delighted laugh and you love how naturally the two of you seem to move together. “What does your collection look like?” You ask, not seeing a bookshelf of vinyls in his living room.

“It’s too big to fit in this room.” He confesses with a blush, “I keep some records out here but switch them out. My main collection is in the movie room.” He has always had a love of movies so naturally, he needed to have a movie room to watch them as well as his living room. “Maybe we can watch something in there later. I wouldn’t mind watching more movies.” He sways you as the music continues.

“That sounds good.” You don’t mind watching movies with him or just going through his records. But he is paying you for the experience that he wants. “Whatever you want to do.” You promise. “Although we do need to maybe go see some Christmas lights?”

Dieter nods, “yes! Let’s take a drive around the neighborhoods to see the lights, we can take some hot chocolate to go and just watch the world pass by.” He sighs, almost romantically, and pulls you close once more.

“That sounds perfect.” You want to tell him that he should decorate his own house, but you don’t. Imagining putting up decorations on the outside of the house as well. It’s not like this is going to last beyond the day after Christmas. You lean in and lay your head on his shoulder as he leads you through the song.

The song comes to an end and Dieter leans back to kiss your cheek. “Thank you for being here baby.” He says even though he knows he’s paying for you to be here. He just indulges in the fact that you are here for him because you want to be. The next song plays but Dieter doesn’t rush to pull back, content to just hold you. It’s been so long since he had this kind of intimacy without expectations.

Somehow, the two of you dance until the record ends, making you whine softly when you have to pull away from Dieter. He was actually a good dancer and warm and comforting. It felt good in his arms. “Should we get ready to go look at Christmas lights?” You offer quietly.

Dieter nods, knowing he can’t exactly wear a sweater and coat in L.A December weather but he’s excited to head out and see the lights in his shorts. “Come on baby!” He calls you from the garage while you get the flask of hot chocolate and marshmallows. He is practically buzzing as you turn on Christmas music for you to cruise through the neighborhood, enjoying the spectacular lights his rich neighbors no doubt paid someone to put up.

“Wow.” Dieter pulls the car to a stop and you both let down the windows to hear the music that is synchronized with the lights for a dazzling show. “I would love to do something like that.” You murmur to yourself, in awe of the time, effort and money it took to do something like that just for the hell of it. “I bet the sound and lights guys for movies have the best setups.” You joke.

Dieter chuckles, “I know a few that live around here. Let’s go see.” He pulls away from the curb, heading towards the guy who did the sound for the Jurassic World movies that lives in the neighborhood. “If his yard isn’t Christmas dinosaur themed, he’s doing it wrong.” Dieter says after he explains who the guy is.

“Ohhhh, I saw a triceratops inflatable for Christmas at the store!” You laugh. “I can imagine doing that or Star Wars themed for kids when I have them. Mickey and Santa are overdone. Find a niche.”

Dieter chuckles, “maybe that Mandalorian dude. People thought I was playing him until he took the helmet off. He looks nothing like me.” He snorts, turning into the street and already the house is impressively decorated.

You snicker and sneak a glance over at him. “Maybe a little.” You tease. “Looks like you two have a similar nose. But your lips are different.” You may or may not have spent a little bit of him staring at his lips during his movies. They are so cute and you love the little crease on his bottom lip.

Dieter smirks, not missing a beat. “You've been looking at my lips, wifey?” He teases, winking at you. You fluster and he loves it. He loves how he seems to affect you.

“You know you’re attractive.” You huff, slightly embarrassed, even though you know you shouldn’t be. Dieter seems to soak up this kind of attention so you don’t mind it too much. “You are on the Sexist People list nearly every year. Although you should have won over Chris Evans.” You snort and bite your own lip.

Dieter wrinkles his nose, “people only see the photo shoots with makeup and hair and stylists. They don’t see trash panda Bravo, which is who I am most days. I don’t tend to bother shaving or dressing in anything other than comfy clothes. If it is any consolation, you’re fucking hot. I haven’t been able to stop looking at your lips either baby. Fucking kissable but I - I didn’t pay you to be my - to be here for that. I paid you to be company and that was our agreement.

That statement should not be that hot to you. It shouldn’t make you want to unbuckle your seatbelt and crush your lips to his. But it does. For all the bullshit antics Dieter Bravo may pull, he genuinely believes in consent and that’s fucking sexy. You had seen the clips where he was asking anyone and everyone to sleep with him during the Cliff Beasts production, and being totally chill when they turned him down. The spoiled actor ego doesn’t extend to the bedroom and that was something that should be appreciated. You cover his hand on the gear knob with your own. “I thought you were hot in a sloppy way when you came in last night.” You promise him with a smirk. “And of course your lips are fucking kissable. You make me want to plant some of my chapstick on your lips.”

Dieter’s eyes widen in a comical way at your words and it soon turns into an undeniably sexy smirk. “Baby…can I fucking kiss you?” He asks, almost whining as he leans a little closer over the console when he’s stopped outside of the home that has a myriad of dinosaur inflatables - including some moving dinosaurs like the damn movie. It’s impressive but Dieter is more interested in you.

Your breath catches when he asks, the flood of arousal undeniable at the way Dieter Bravo is looking at you like he wants to make you Christmas dinner. Your eyes flicker down to his lips and you nod. “Yes.” You are breathless when you give him permission and nervous.

Dieter licks his lips, setting them, before he leans in to softly press his lips to yours. He groans at the first taste of that chapstick you mentioned and he reaches up to cup the back of your head, deepening the kiss. His tongue dips into your mouth and he groans when you open eagerly, allowing him to explore your mouth.

No fucking wonder he could get away with basically having two women on a red carpet event. There’s a small whimper in the back of your throat as your hand comes to curl around the back of his neck, pulling him closer while his tongue slides against yours and his own moan is breathed into your mouth like he is just as affected.

Dieter is in no rush to end this kiss, happily molding his lips to yours while his tongue slides against your teeth before tangling with yours. He caresses your neck while he kisses you until he pulls back after a moment to look at you in surprise. His heart is pounding and he hasn’t been this turned on in a long time. You’ve not even done anything but kiss but it has his heart racing.

You blink for a moment, quiet as you try to comprehend what the hell just happens at your phone dings, making you jump and breaking the spell over the moment. You look down and your heart is pounding. “Oh, there’s a little Christmas thing nearby.” You tell Dieter. “Spiced cider and hot chocolate, hay rides through a Christmas light thing.”

“Yeah? You wanna go babe?” Dieter asks, reaching for your free hand and acting like what just happened wasn’t as big a deal as his heart is making it out to be. His heart is thumping in his chest but he doesn’t let that show as he asks you to give him directions to this Christmas thing.

The two of you are quiet until you pull up into the busy parking lot. Kids and parents everywhere and you grin to yourself as you get out of the car. “They even have a little snow area!” You exclaim, pointing out the area where they were making snow for the kids to play in. It was melting quickly but the kids didn’t care, making snow angels. “One year I want to be snowed into a cabin for Christmas.” You sigh wistfully.

“Oooh, that sounds like a dream. Snow falling. Fire going. Maybe one day we could do that.” Dieter is eager, parking the car and he gets out and comes around to open your door, holding his hand out for you. “Come on, let’s go.”

There is traditional Christmas music geared towards kids playing and the entire atmosphere is one of magic and joy. Even a sigh to visit Santa Claus for a last minute sit on his lap. Your hand in his feels just right and you squeeze his hand. “What do you want to do first?” You ask. “Oh! They have roasted chestnuts! I’ve always wanted to try them!”

Dieter grins, guiding you towards the chestnuts. “Come on baby, let’s get you some nuts.” He winks, making you roll your eyes, and he chuckles when you end up giggling at his dumb joke. He buys you a bag of roasted chestnuts, “here you go wifey.”

You pop one of the roasted nuts into your mouth and moan in pleasure and surprise at the taste. “Honey, you have to try this.” Your fingers immediately dive into the bag to pluck another and hold it up to his lips. “Please hubby?” You bat your eyes at him playfully.

He smirks, taking the nut from your grip and he wraps his lips around your fingers as he takes the nut into his mouth. He closes his eyes and pulls back, chewing on the roasted chestnut and he hums at the taste. “That’s fucking delicious.” He says after he swallows, his hand finding your waist and he squeezes your hip.

You can’t help yourself, not when he looks so cute and thrilled to be right here with you. Leaning in, you press your lips to his in a kid-friendly kiss that still has your heart pounding in your chest as you rock back on your heels and grin at him. “I’m paying for the spiced cider.” You promise. “My portion of our Christmas date.”

Dieter’s heart thumps at the kiss you offer him and he shakes his head at your offer to pay for the cider. “No. No. I’m paying for it.” He insists, “especially if this is a date night.” He continues the ruse, honestly wanting to believe it, it would be easy to imagine you as his wife. “I’m not letting my wife pay for anything.” He shakes his head, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

You roll your eyes playfully and huff at his inability to let you pay. “Fine.” You pout and sigh dramatically. “I’ll let my husband spoil me.” You reach for his hand and lace your fingers with his. “Let’s get our cider and get in line for the hayride.”

It’s too easy to be with you like this but Dieter knows that it’s end come the day after Christmas. He’s going to enjoy every second of your company. After paying for the cider, you wait in line for the hayride and Dieter notices a woman talking to her husband, both of them staring at Dieter. He sighs, knowing they recognize him despite his genius disguise of a baseball cap and plain t-shirt. He just hopes no one gets photos…for your sake.

“It’s cool, isn’t it?” You lean around Dieter and speak to the woman. “Seeing him in public.” You grin and put your fingers up to your lips. “Don’t tell anyone, since he’s trying to be incognito, but I can take a quick pic of you with him if you want. As long as you don’t post it tonight. Let him enjoy the Christmas Eve festivities.” You look back at Dieter to see if he’s okay with that.

Dieter nods, smiling at your genius way of getting the woman to keep his presence a secret. He quickly saddles up beside her after she hands you her phone and he grins as you take the photo, winking at you as he steps back beside you and kisses your cheek, “thank you baby. You should be my new PR manager.” He teases, taking his drink back from you after the woman thanks him.

Preening slightly at the compliment, you take a sip of your cider. “People are in awe when they see famous people being just like them.” You give him a small shrug and shuffle closer to him, enjoying the coziness of the atmosphere. “Let them think they are the only ones that figured it out, and they don’t spill the beans.”

Dieter rubs your arm, “you’re right but now, let’s hope we don’t get any more fuss about me being here. I want us to have privacy without people swarming. I hate that shit.” He leans in to press a kiss to your neck. He is grateful you agreed to spend this time with him. When you are called to get on the hayride, Dieter tosses your finished cider cups away and helps you up, his hand close to your ass.

The two of you are huddled together on the ride, not because the temperature calls for it, but the moment does. Leaning into him and holding his hand is natural, and you tuck your face against his neck with your other arm around his back. “Are you enjoying yourself, honey?” You whisper, wanting to make sure he’s not suddenly feeling anxious about being out with you. You’re a nobody and you can’t imagine that would be good for his reputation.

“I am. It’s perfect.” Dieter grins, cheeks almost hurting with how perfect today has been. You are worth every single penny he spent for your company. That reminds him that he paid for your company, you’re here for the money, not for him, and that makes him stiffen a little beside you.

When Dieter stiffens, you think there’s something that he doesn’t like so you rub his back more, looking around to see if you can spot anyone staring or taking pictures. You can’t even imagine how difficult it has to be sometimes. “Hey, when we go back to your house, do you want to change into pajamas and watch another movie?” You ask, wanting him to focus on something to look forward to. “Maybe make some popcorn and make out?” You take a risk and kiss his jaw, wanting to kiss him again.

Dieter hums, deep in thought about why you want to make out. Perhaps you pity him so much you think he’d want that. Or maybe you genuinely want to kiss him? He doesn’t know and he’s confused right now so he doesn’t say anything. Just waits until the ride is over to help you down and finally, he says “why do you want to make out with me?”

“Oh.” Your cheeks burn and you look away, mortified that you had read him wrong. “I- it was really nice kissing you. I’m sorry- I shouldn’t have- we don’t have to, I promise.” You rush out. “I’m not going to pout or throw myself at you.” You promise him, sure that he thinks if you like one of those fans who would tear his clothes off just to say they slept with Dieter Bravo.

Dieter notices how mortified you are and it hits him that you aren’t trying to please him, you want to kiss him. That makes his stomach twist and his heart thumping so hard he swears you can hear it. He surges forward to press his lips to yours, “it was really nice to kiss you too.” He murmurs as he pulls away from the quick peck.

Giggling in relief, you can’t help but grin. “I’m sorry, I know I must seem like an idiot, I just- you’re really nice and this has been a good day.” You huff, a little self conscious before you lean in and kiss him again.

Dieter pouts and shakes his head, cupping your cheeks, “not at all, baby. You have made this a perfect day. I want to go home, change into pajamas and make out.” He playfully nips your lower lip, “you ready to go?”

“Yes.” You’re a little breathless and beam at him, feeling your stomach flutter and you wonder why he seems to affect you so much. You’ve been hit on by men but he seems to just make you feel like a schoolgirl with a crush

Dieter is soon guiding you back to his car, eager to get home, and he opens the door to help you in before he rushes around to get in the car. “Let’s go home, baby.” He says as he pulls out of the parking lot, eager to get home and kiss you again.

The drive back to Dieter’s house is a lot quicker, both of you quiet as you watch the houses pass by. Biting your lip when you pull into the driveway, you look over at Dieter. “So I’ll change and meet you back downstairs?”

“Sounds like a plan, baby.” He grins, “go get changed.” He gets out of the car and quickly unlocks his house, eager to change into his own pajamas and settle on the sofa with you. He’s already half hard at the thought of kissing you, touching you.

You go back to the room that he had shown you to and change into your pajamas. You had packed some Christmas pajamas that would be perfect tonight, and you very purposefully take your bra off before you leave the bedroom and head towards the living room to meet Dieter there.

Dieter sits down on the sofa, eagerly waiting for you, and when you arrive in the festive pajamas, his breath is taken away. Shit, you look sexy even in those pajamas. “Come on baby, sit down. I thought we could watch Home Alone.” He pats the space beside him, eager to have you close.

“Home Alone is life.” You eagerly plop down next to him and throw your legs over his like you’ve done it a million times. “Always disappointed no one ever broke in at Christmas so I could wreck havoc. And that my parents weren’t rich enough to go to Paris.”

“What the fuck did his dad do to be able to afford to take all those people to Paris? Fuck, even I wouldn’t be that generous.” Dieter snorts and rubs your calves as the movie starts.

You bite back a moan at the way his fingers dig into the meat and muscle of your calves. “I don’t know, you’re pretty generous.” You compliment him, knowing that he’s been very generous with you.

“I guess I gotta get myself four kids to take on vacation to Paris and accidentally leave one behind.” He jokes, squeezing your calf and he can’t help but let his hand ride higher up, over your knee to your thigh.

“Four kids!” Your dramatic, wide eyed expression is absolutely to make him laugh and the warmth of it rolls over you when he does. “Good luck finding someone to have four kids. What happened to three? I think two would be my max.”

Dieter chuckles, “not if you get addicted to the sex.” He jokes, squeezing your thigh, “my oral can be very persuasive.” He sticks his tongue out and leans in to lick your neck, making your squeal and he chuckles against your skin until he stops, kissing your neck.

You have to remind yourself that this is a little scene for Dieter, he doesn’t really want you to have his kids. That would be crazy. Instead of lamenting that fact, you turn your head so your nose brushes his. “Hi.” You whisper with a grin.

Dieter grins, pulling back to look into your eyes, “hi.” He nudges his nose with yours. “Wanna make out?” He whispers and when you nod, he gently presses his lips to yours despite wanting to make out. He’s slow, cupping your cheek, and sliding his tongue into your mouth.

It’s juvenile to make out on a couch while a movie plays, but you love it. Moaning into his mouth softly while your tongues explore and you feel the familiar heat of arousal starting to burn in your core. Somehow, the two of you manage to end up horizontal on the sofa, you on top of Dieter surprisingly, and you are subtly rocking against him as you kiss.

Dieter caresses your back, his tongue moving with yours and his hands slide down to your ass, squeezing and pulling you closer to him, grinding you against him. He groans into your mouth, enjoying the feel of you above him, and he lets you lead this, not wanting to go too far.

You whine, feeling the hardening bulge under you and pull away, gasping for air while you look down at him. “I- I don’t want this to- I want to have sex with you.” You admit. “Not because I’m- but because I want you.”

Dieter grins, “yeah? You want me to fuck you baby?” He asks, kissing your jaw and down to your neck. “You want me to make you cum?” He questions, squeezing your ass again. He’s eager to get you naked, hear you moan his name.

“Yes.” You whimper, grinding down on his cock and rolling your hips. Just because you didn’t dance at the club didn’t mean that you couldn’t. You press your lips to his gently. “Take me to bed, Dieter.”

Dieter nods, playfully smacking your ass, and he lets you shift off of him. He doesn’t care about the movie playing as he guides you to his bedroom. It’s a huge en-suite with a king sized bed and he turns to you as he stands in front of it. “Let me fuck you.” He requests, his hands caressing your waist.

You smirk and start to lift your shirt over your head. “First I want you to find out what my cunt tastes like.” You demand, exposing your tits to his eyes and tossing the shirt down. “And I want to see if the cock shown in Blue Hypnosis was actually yours or a body double.”

Dieter smirks, stepping away from you and his eyes are fixed on your breasts. “Shit. I wanna-” He can’t help himself, surging forward and ducking down to suck on your nipple, biting and licking over the hardening bud and groaning as you reach down to cup him through his sweats.

“Fuck!” You hiss, loving the pain and pleasure from his tongue, feeling how eagerly he is sucking on your nipple. Like he is trying to feed from you. His cock twitches against your palm and you curl your fingers around him through the material. “Fuck baby, you’re hung.”

He grins against your breast, pulling back after a moment to look at you, “oh I know.” He winks and shifts to kneel down, hooking his fingers in your shorts. He pulls them down and groans at the sight of your lack of underwear and the curls at the apex of your thighs. “Shit, you’re gorgeous.” Helping you step out of the shorts, he kisses your thighs before he stands up, “want you spread out on my bed.”

Rushing over to the bed, you lay down and spread your legs wide to let him see your already wet cunt. “Strip for me, Dieter.” You demand, loving the idea of watching him take off his clothes. “I want to see you.”

Dieter nods, shuffling back to pull his shirt off and he shoves his sweats down, exposing his thick cock, bobbing with heaviness and a bead of precum threatening to fall off of the tip. He’s cut and just long enough that you know you will feel him in your gut without it hurting. “Like the movie?” He teases, standing there in a pose.

You grin at the cockiness of the stance and have to admit he has a reason to be cocky. “I don’t know.” You tease, tilting your head. “It looks like you’re bigger than the cock in the movie.”

Dieter chuckles and winks at you, “glad to hear it. It’s yours baby.” He tells you as he kneels on the bed and he shifts into his stomach, kissing along your calf. He licks the space behind your knee as he shifts further up your body until he is sliding his tongue between your folds.

The gasp you give out is loud, even to your own ears. It’s been a long time since someone has licked your pussy and Dieter is unusually enthusiastic about it. Most men were very humdrum about it, viewing it as a chore or something to complete as quickly as possible. Not him, he spreads your legs wide and seems to settle down to explore with his tongue.

Dieter groans at the taste of you, his tongue diving deep and his fingers dig into your thighs as he pushes them back so he can get even deeper inside of you. He loves eating pussy, one of his favorite pastimes if he’s honest, and he flicks his tongue over your clit.

“Oh fuck.” Your eyes flutter closed as you try to ground yourself. You hadn’t expected this but you aren’t complaining. Not at all. Reaching down, your fingers tangle through his curls and fisting into his hair. “Oh fuck baby, it’s so good.”

Groaning when you tug on his hair, making him nuzzle his face further into your cunt, and he sucks on your clit…hard. His hands slide under your ass, tilting your hips more so he can slide his tongue deeper inside of you, his nose pressed against your clit.

“Shit.” Your choked out cry is nearly strangled. You’ve never had a man who wanted to push his tongue inside you. Always saying that your clit it where he needed to be. “Oh dear God, how - how do you not do porn? You should.”

Dieter chuckles, pulling back for a moment to look up at you. “I nearly did before I got my big break as an adult. Nearly needed the money.” He spits, letting his saliva dribble onto your clit, and he lathes his tongue over your folds to spread his spit. He is desperate for you to cum, wanting you to moan his name loud and clear as he pushes his tongue back inside of you.

Shuddering at the fact that Dieter just spit on your cunt, you bite your lip and your hips jerk down roughly. You’re a little desperate at the way his tongue is curling and twisting inside you. “Fuck, oh fuck.” Your fingers tug on his hair as the knot of pleasure pulls tight inside you. “I’m gonna cum baby. Oh fuuuuuuuck!” You squeal, overwhelmed with how quickly it slams into you.

Dieter keeps his tongue buried deep as you clamp down around it, soaking his mouth and chin with your cum. He fucking loves it, lapping deep for get every drop while his nose continues to press against your clit. He works you through it, wanting to prolong your orgasm despite his cock throbbing and trapped against the mattress.

It seems to drag out forever. Wave after wave of pleasure making your thighs shake around his ears. Pressing them tight against his head until his groan vibrates through you.

Dieter works you through it, moaning when you tug on his hair to pull him away when it gets too much, and he kisses your clit one last time before he shifts to kiss your thighs as you relax them. “Can I fuck you?” He asks, needing to be inside of you. He is aching, leaking onto his sheets as he waits for you to tell him he can slide inside of you.

You nod, blissed out and you frown slightly when you remember one very important thing. “I- we need a condom.” You don’t trust anyone without a condom, the fact that you take birth control is not even factored in. It’s more about sexual health and preventing any STDs.

Dieter nods. “I have one.” That makes you feel better because you didn’t bring any despite wondering if you should. You honestly hadn’t anticipated sleeping with him so you had left them at home.

Dieter shifts to hover over you, reaching into his nightstand to grab a condom, and he leans back on his haunches while he opens the foil packet and rolls the rubber down his cock. He pumps himself a few times, looking down at you. “Fuck, you’re so gorgeous.” He murmurs, caressing your thigh with his other hand.

“Fuck me.” You beg and he smirks, shifting to notch his cock at your entrance. Slowly pushing into you, he groans at the way your walls are already squeezing him.

Your mouth opens on a long moan, head tilting back as he fills you. So much thicker and deeper than his tongue, you love that he is slowly sliding into you inch by inch until his pubic hair is grinding against your clit.

“Shit baby. You feel - shit you’re so tight.” Dieter hisses through his teeth, unable to believe how good you feel around him, squeezing him. He swallows harshly before he leans down to press his lips to yours, his tongue sliding against yours when he begins to rock his hips.

Caressing his shoulder, you kiss him back eagerly, lifting a leg and wrapping it around his hip. Opening yourself up even more so he can work his way deeper into your cunt. “It’s- it’s because you have such a big- big dick.” You whimper, biting his chin when you pull away to speak.

Dieter grins, waggling his eyebrows as he looks down at you. “Glad you approve, baby girl.” He pecks your lips, pushing deep with slow, precise thrusts that make you give him the sweetest moans. He’s in no rush despite how horny he’s been for you, but he doesn’t want to rush this. He wants you to cum a couple of times before he does.

The rhythm is easy, no punishing pace that has you struggling to keep up. His strokes are sure and deep, but he isn’t chasing his own orgasm. Another surprise that has you rocking your hips up, enjoying the drag of his length against your walls and his lips against yours.

His hands squeeze your tits and he pinches your nipples, loving the way you gasp against his chin. “So fucking beautiful, wifey.” He teases, nipping your jaw and he kisses down your neck. Licking and sucking until he is taking your nipple into his mouth, biting down.

Walls clenching down around him, you moan again. Loving that he’s paying attention to your tits and mixing pain and pleasure together. He sucks harshly again and you hum. “Only for you honey.” You promise, playing along. “Need you to make me cum like only you can.”

Dieter loves how you play along, making him shudder as he rocks into you and he kisses along your sternum until he can press his lips to yours once more. He tilts his hips, trying to find the perfect spot to make you squeal.

Everything thrust pushes you up the bed slightly, making you bite your lip until that certain spot is hit with devastating accuracy. Making you cry out and sob his name when he pushes against it again.

“There it is.” He drawls, smiling as he focuses to hit that spot again. Your hand pressed against the headboard to stop your head from hitting it, and Dieter grabs your waist to keep you still. On his knees, he puts his force behind his thrusts as he focuses on that spot, needing you to cum for him.

Your other leg wraps around him and your hips and ass are lifted up off the bed as he fucks you. Every slam of his hips making you cry out, toes curling behind his back. It feels like he’s hammering into you with a battering ram and you fucking love it, your nails dragging down his arms and leaving red welts. “Fuck!” You squeal, body locking up and your vision going blurry as you soak him in your pleasure.

The way you clamp down on his cock has him groaning your name but he doesn’t cum. He grunts, caressing your hips, and he works you through it, not relenting his pace as he pushes you through it onto another orgasm. He is desperate to feel you cum again, desperate to make you stay here in his bed. “Shit. So fucking tight.” He hisses, working you through it.

His name becomes like a chant, a prayer dripping from your lips while his cock drills into you again and again. You hadn’t expected his stamina to last but you are thanking God or whoever is out there that it does. It’s wet, squelching, and you would be embarrassed of the fact that your pussy is being audaciously loud except for the fact that Dieter is loving it. Groaning and hissing as he rocks above you, saying ‘yes’ every time he hears it.

Dieter hisses, jaw clenched and he pulls out of you, making you whine. He flips you onto your stomach, straddling your thighs and he grips his wet cock, pushing back into you from behind and his eyes roll into his head at how tight you feel around him.

“That’s it. That’s fucking it, baby.” He groans, loving the way you cry out beneath him. He rocks into you, sweat beading on his forehead as he works himself deep into your cunt, hitting that spot over and over again. “Such a good girl. So good for me. Wifey. My wifey gripping my fucking cock. Want her to cum again.” He smacks your ass, squeezing it before he smacks it again.

You whine, trying to push back against him. You know that he’s wearing a condom, you watched him roll it on, but you pretend he’s not wearing it. “Fill me up, baby.” You beg hun. “Want to feel it. Want my hubby to- to fill me up.” You don’t know if he would like that, but you’ll see.

Your words make Dieter whine but he desperately wants you to cum one more time. “Shit. You want me to paint your tight walls? Fill you up with my cum?” He plays along, “knock my wifey up?” He has always had a little breeding kink but he’s always been worried that one woman would take it seriously and he’d have a love child. He’s always been so careful but you make him want to throw everything out the window.

“Fuck yes!” Your own breeding kink roars to life. Any boyfriends you had thought it was weird since you didn’t actually want to get pregnant. They didn’t understand that the idea was hot, but you didn’t want kids with them. This was safe. “God Dieter, put your baby in me. Fuck, please, please, I want it.”

He growls, loving how you feed into his kink with your own desires. “Gonna do it. Just need you to cum. Cum for your husband. Cum for me and I’ll fill you up.” He promises, rocking into you hard and fast and he smacks your ass before he shoves his hand beneath you to rub your clit.

That rub against your clit pushes you over the edge. Turning your head, you press your mouth to his sheets and muffle your cry, even then it’s loud. Walls locking down around him and another hot rush of your cum coating him while every nerve in your body lights up and explodes in pleasure.

The way you clamp down on him has him wishing he could feel how wet you are as you cum but he is soon focusing on his own orgasm. He groans, rocking a few times into you, and he hisses, “gonna cum. Gonna fill you up. Gonna knock you up.” He moans your name as he stills, burying his cock deep inside of you and filling the condom with his seed.

You whine when you feel him push deep, throbbing inside you although you don’t get the warmth that you would if he was actually filling you up. This is as good as it will get and it’s for the best. “So good baby, it’s so good.” Your eyes flutter closer and you smile when you lay your cheek against the sheet. “Fill me up, baby. Put that baby in my belly.”

Dieter pants, shifting so his body covers yours, and he groans your name as he twitches inside of you. “Fuck. You’re so good.” He groans, kissing your neck as he relaxes over you, keeping you pressed into the mattress.

“Hmmm.” You smile lazily, not minding the weight of him on top of you as you catch your breath. “I think I should be saying that to you.” You praise him. “Don’t think I’ve cum that many times in one go in a long time.”

Dieter grins, proud to hear you say that. “Gotta take care of my wifey.” He pulls out of you, gripping the condom, and he quickly removes it, tying it off and tossing it onto the nightstand before he lays down beside you, looking at your beautiful, blissed out face. He grins, happy to have this moment with you. “This is the best Christmas Eve I’ve ever had.”

You send him a smile with your eyes cracked open. His fingers stroke up and down your spine and you are about to start purring like a cat. “I’m glad honey.” You honestly are. “I am having a great time too.”

Dieter smiles, continuing to caress your spine, and when you hum and snuggle closer to him, he kisses you. Slow and soft, unhurried and he just enjoys being beside you. He is soon falling asleep - always does after an orgasm - and keeps you in his arms until after the clock strikes midnight. "Merry Christmas." You whisper to a sleeping Dieter.

****

Waking before he does, you slip silently out of the bed. Needing to pee but you don’t go to his bathroom, instead you make your way down to the guest bedroom you hadn’t slept in to do that and wrap his present before throwing on some clothes so you can get started cleaning up the kitchen from the night before and start making breakfast for you and Dieter.

Dieter wakes up to the scent of bacon and he groans, patting the bed but the spot you occupied is cold. He grunts and opens one eye, realizing it’s Christmas morning. “It’s Christmas.” He whispers to himself with excitement, looking forward to giving you the gift he had his assistant buy for you. He had picked it out, of course. After peeing and brushing his teeth, he pulls on a pair of boxers and makes his way into the kitchen to find you cooking. “Morning wifey.” He coos, stepping behind you to kiss your neck, “merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, honey.” You turn in his arms and kiss his lips before you turn back towards the bacon so it doesn’t burn. “I hope you don’t mind, I wanted to cook you breakfast so we could eat it in front of the Christmas tree.”

Dieter caresses your hips, “mind? Baby, it’s perfect.” He promises, kissing your neck when you turn back to the stove. “This is everything I’ve ever dreamed of.” He murmurs, knowing he’s paying you for this but he desperately wants you to be real, this to be real. He sighs, “I have a present for you too.”

“Dieter.” You tut and look over your shoulder to pout at him. “You shouldn’t have gotten me anything.” Even though you have a present for him under the tree, he has done way too much for you already. “I have a present for you too.”

Dieter grins, “you didn’t have to do that baby.” He tuts and kisses your neck again. He steps back away from you and lets you finish cooking while he watches, wanting this situation every weekend. He wants you. “You’re too good to me, baby.” He groans when you set the breakfast down in front of him.

You move back over to his kitchen counter to pour up two cups of coffee. Not sure how he liked his coffee, you had made mocha with some of the peppermint chocolate that you had from baking cookies. You had melted the bits and put it in the sugar and creamer. “I enjoy doing things like that, but you are more than welcome.” You wink and drop a kiss on his lips before you sit down opposite him. “Merry Christmas.”

Dieter grins as you sit down and he holds his mug up towards you, “Merry Christmas, baby girl.” He winks and takes a sip of the coffee, groaning at the taste. “Shit, you’re too good at treating me.” He gestures to the breakfast and he knows it’s gonna be hard to go back to being alone.

“The day’s not over yet.” You remind him playfully. “We still have dinner tonight, beef wellington of course, and whatever else you want to do.” Most of the Christmasy activities you had managed to get packed into last night, so you could honestly do whatever. You just want him to have the experience he wants, not just for the money now.

Dieter smiles, “that sounds perfect. I want us to have a relaxing day. Maybe we can watch some more movies and…and I wouldn’t mind, uh, having you for dessert at some point today. If you’re not sore.” He adds, not wanting to push you. He only wants you if you want him.

You smirk, the soreness between your thighs just telling you that you had been fucked right the the night before. “Pillow fort on the floor in the movie room?” You ask with a wink. “We could do naked Christmas.”

Dieter smirks back at you, “I like the way you think.” He digs into the breakfast, moaning and groaning at the taste, and he doesn’t speak as he appreciates your cooking. “Best Christmas morning meal ever.” He compliments you when his plate is cleared.

“Thank you.” You don’t know exactly what he normally does for meals, but you just wanted him to enjoy his time and eat well while you are together. It doesn’t hurt that you love his kitchen and would spend all your time in there if you could. “I’m just going to clean this up if you want to get started on setting up the movie room? Then we’ll open presents? Or do you want to do that now?”

“I want to do it now. Leave the dishes. We can get to them later.” He tells you, reaching for your hand. “Get the presents, baby.” He gestures to the two presents under the tree. He can’t wait to give you the present he had purchased for you, excited to see the look on your face when you open it.

“I hope you know you didn’t have to do anything.” You feel bad, especially since he is paying you to be here. Although you think you’re going to tell him not to pay you the other ten thousand. It wouldn’t be right since you’ve slept together. The paper is beautiful and you pick it up and grin at him as you shake it slightly like a child.

Dieter chuckles, watching you as you carefully open the present to reveal the red box inside. “I- I wanted to get you something to remember me after we - after the holiday ends.” He confesses, reluctant to let you go but he knows you wouldn’t want to stay here with him after you get the money. You recognize the red box with gold etching and your hand shakes a little as you open it to reveal the bracelet inside. “I, uh, I had it engraved too.”

“Dieter- it’s too much.” You gasp, fingers brushing over the beautiful bracelet and you look up at him in awe. He can’t return it, it’s custom and you are blown away at the thoughtfulness of the gift. “It’s not.” He insists and you lean forward and press your lips to his. “Put it on me.” You demand, overwhelmed at his generosity.

Grinning, Dieter carefully takes the bracelet and opens it using the screwdriver, fastening it onto your wrist so it can’t be taken off. “It’s yours. No matter what, you are keeping this.” Dieter insists, kissing the back of your hand after the bracelet is secure on your wrist.

“Too kind.” You huff, kissing him again before you pick up the wrapped present you had decided on for him. It’s definitely not near as luxurious as his gift and you wonder if he will be disappointed in it. But what do you get a man who has what Dieter does?

He carefully takes the present, following your example as he carefully opens the paper. He takes the box and opens the lid, eyes widening at the sight of the book. He grins, “A Christmas Carol?” He takes the book out and opens the first page, seeing your writing, and he murmurs as he reads it, “to the best Christmas I’ve ever had with an amazing man.” You signed it and dated it and even though it’s simple, it’s the best thing he’s ever gotten for Christmas. “Thank you so much baby.” He surges forward to press his lips to yours.

You sigh in relief that he does hate it, grinning against his lips. “Now that we’ve opened presents, let’s get ready to spend the rest of the day indulging in whatever we want.” You pull back and give him a dirty wink. “Be a good boy and I’ll even wash the dishes naked.” You tease, unable to resist kissing him again.

His cock twitches at your words and Dieter smirks at you, “oh I can be a good boy, sweetheart.” He chuckles and shifts to sit on the sofa, patting his lap for you to sit with him. “Come on, want a Christmas kiss from my girl.” He tells you, pouting his lips slightly.

There is something inherently vulnerable in the way that Dieter looks at you. Like he is halfway expecting rejection and seems surprised and pleased when you don’t do that. Instead you straddle his waist and grin as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Christmas kiss, huh?” You tease. “I guess it better be good.”

Dieter beams at the way you straddle him and he eagerly presses his lips to yours, his tongue sliding along your bottom lip before his hands squeeze your ass while you leisurely kiss him. There’s no rush, just enjoyment as you relish a Christmas kiss.

Humming, you could live in this kiss. Wanting to just swim in it forever. His earring is stupid and his hair unfairly soft, and you love the dumb tattoos on his arms, even more the ones on his thighs. Today you are going to explore them, do what you want to him this time.

Dieter kisses you several times, his hands rubbing your body, and he is content to just be in this moment with you. He loves how you feel, he loves how you sound, how you taste. Shit. He presses his lips to yours again, wanting to distract himself from his own thoughts.

There’s a change in the way that he kisses you. It becomes a little more desperate, needy and you wonder if he’s thought of something he doesn’t like. Especially the way that he’s not gripping you any tighter or trying to take it farther than the kiss. Instead of pulling away, you sink your fingers into his hair and scratch his scalp. “How about a Christmas soak in a tub before pillow forts and movies?”

“Sounds good baby. I have some bath bombs we can use.” He kisses along your jaw while you scratch his scalp and he groans at the feeling of your nails on his head. He reluctantly pulls back from you, smacking your ass. “Let’s get that bath ready.”

You give a small giggle and shake your head as you stand up. “I hope you have an amazing bathtub.” You grab his hand and help pull him up with a small grunt. “Want to luxuriate in a bath and maybe ride you if you want.”

“Jesus, you know how to spoil me baby.” He chuckles, guiding you into his room and through to the master bathroom so he can get the bath running. After setting the temperature, he searches for the bath bombs and throws a couple in, excited to get in there with you and see you naked again. You lean against the counter and he just stares, thinking that you’re fucking gorgeous.

Smirking, you see the way that his eyes are trailing up and down your body, seeming peering under your pajamas. “Someone wants a little strip show?” You tease, rolling your hips as you reach for the bottom of your shirt to pull it up to just under your breasts.

His eyes widen slightly and he nods, almost fast enough to make himself dizzy. “Please baby. Let me see you. I want to see you.” He is already hardening in his shorts just from the thought of touching you again.

You’ve stripped for exactly one other man. A boyfriend for a year that you found out was seeing your ex-best friend behind your back. You had seen the text messages between them and knew how they viewed you for working in a strip club so you had never done it again. But now, you feel good as you watch him nearly drool as you lift your shirt up to show him one breast.

“Don’t tease.” Dieter whines, “come on baby. Let me see you. Want to suck on your tits. Want to make you cum.” He says, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms while he waits for you to put on a show.

Biting your lip, you chuckle and slowly pull your shirt up over your head and whip it around your hand before you throw it towards Dieter. Cupping your tits and winking at him while you turn around and look over your shoulder, shaking your ass at him.

His chuckle turns into a groan as you put on a show, tossing the shirt he caught down on the counter behind him. “You’re so sexy. I’d say you’ve been wasted as a cocktail waitress but I would be lying because I’m happy only I’ve had the chance to see this, to see you like this.”

“You like this?” You coo, smirking at him and hooking your fingers under your pajamas pants and sashay your hips down and then back up. Teasing as you start to push them down slowly, almost a fraction of an inch at a time.

“Like it? Baby I love it.” Dieter watches you expose your ass to his eager eyes and he fucking loves it. Groaning your name, he watches you visually tease him and he reaches down to squeeze his hard cock through his pants.

It makes you feel incredibly powerful. This man, this Oscar winning actor could have models or starlets in his bed and he wants you, his cock is hard for you. You start twerking slightly as you bend over and let him see more, including where you are already soaked at the thought of fucking him again.

“Fuck.” He hisses, watching you with rapture, and he squeezes himself again, “you’re already wet.” He can’t believe how gorgeous you are, how sexy you are, and you’re wet for him. The bath is nearly run and he reluctantly pushes off of the counter so he can turn off the water, testing it with his hand.

“Of course I am.” You shake your head and pout at him. “You fucked me really good last night. Was it a fluke? Or because you were still a little high?” You notice that his eyes are dilated today and he’s sober. “How will it be today?”

Dieter shakes his head, pulling you close and his hands caress your waist. “I will make you cum. I - I am human so I’m not perfect every time but I’m sober today. I don’t want to be high because - because you alone make me happy. I want to feel you, I want to - to be in this moment with you.” He leans in to kiss your jaw.

“I like that.” You close your eyes and tilt your head back and wrap your arms around him again. “I’ve been enjoying this entire thing. All of it. You’ve been wonderful.”

Dieter kisses along your neck, “this is the best Christmas I’ve ever had. I don’t want you to leave.” He murmurs against your skin, his hands squeezing your ass as he pulls you even closer to his body until his hard cock is pressed into your hip. “Let me fuck you in the bath baby.”

“Un uh.” You shake your head and grin as you bite his chin. “I’m going to fuck you in the bath. Be a good boy and strip off and get in the water. I want to sit on your hard cock.”

Groaning, Dieter nods and shifts to step away from you. Putting on his own show as he reaches for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head and he tosses it down before shoving his shorts and boxers down in one move, his hard cock bouncing free. “Want you to fuck me.” He says, stepping into the large tub and groaning at the hot water.

Biting your lip, you remember the condom and look around. “Do you have a condom in here, baby?” You wish that you felt comfortable enough to go without, but you don’t know when the last time he got tested was. Especially since this wasn’t a permanent thing.

“Shit. Uh, yeah, in the third drawer down. We don’t have to have sex. I wouldn’t mind just making out if you aren’t comfortable.” He tells you, not wanting you to be pressured if you aren’t comfortable with fucking him in the bath.

“Not comfortable?” You frown, shaking your head and digging through the drawer to find the condoms. “Baby, the only thing that I wish is that you had a recent STD test so I could feel you bare. I want to fuck you and that amazing cock of yours.” It’s a surprising thought for you since you never do unprotected sex, but you want it with him.

Dieter’s eyes widen, “wait. I had one a couple of weeks ago and I haven’t slept with anyone since because I’ve been filming. It’s on my phone.” He completely forgot about it, “we can still use a condom but I did have a test done. Just to assure you I’m clean.”

You bite your lip, gauging his honesty and deciding that you are going to take a risk. “I haven’t - I’m clean. It’s been a long time since I was with someone else.” You promise him. “And I’m on birth control.” You hold the condom up that you found and cock your head slightly. “Do you want to use it, or do you want to risk it? I want to- to risk it.”

Dieter stares at you, surprised that you are completely trusting him. He wouldn’t lie to you but some people would take advantage of your trust. You trust him. He would never betray that. “It’s not a risk when I trust you. I swear I’m clean. Get my phone and I’ll show you but I - I want to feel you. I want to cum inside of you.” The memory of last night with your breeding kink has him twitching under the water.

“I trust you. You’re trusting me too.” You remind him, sure that plenty of beautiful women have told him that they are on birth control and they aren’t, looking for an 18 year payout in child support. You toss the condom down and stride over to the tub to step in and sink down to your knees to straddle him in the large vessel. “You want to fill me up, baby?” You coo. “Plant your baby inside me for Christmas?”

Dieter groans, reaching out to grip your waist, and he loves that you are playing into the kink already. “Absolutely. Fuck, this time next year we could have a kid. You’d be pregnant for most of next year. Round and gorgeous.” He groans, watching your tits as you reach between you to grip his cock. “You need me to stretch that pussy out first?” He asks, caressing your hips.

“No.” You’re a little breathless, imagining that for real even though you know this is just role play. You two are not together and that is way too much responsibility for right now. “I want it to pinch.” You lift your hips up and notch him at your entrance. “I want to feel it sting.”

He hisses at your words, cock twitching in your grip, and he watches your face as you start to sink down onto his cock. “Fuck baby. Your cunt is so tight.” He closes his eyes for just a second before opening them so he can watch you. “Ride my cock. Make me fill you up so it takes.” He orders, his hands squeezing your ass once you’re fully seated on his length.

You whine softly at his words, grinding down and enjoying the way it feels like he’s deep in your guts. “Going to.” You promise, bracing your hands on the sides of the tub as you start to lift yourself off of him. “Gonna cum all over your cock first.”

Dieter groans, leaning forward to take one of your nipples into his mouth with his hands sliding up your back until one hand is squeezing your tit that his mouth isn’t attached to. “Gonna drink milk from these.” He tells you with a groan, “gonna - gonna watch them swell with milk.”

It’s embarrassing how sexy that sounds and you moan loudly. Biting your lip and tangling your fingers into his hair while you start to bounce on his cock. Every time his teeth scrap your nipple, your walls clench around him. “Yeah? You want to- to have me as your milk cow? Have fresh milk from- from the source?”

“Fuckkkkkk yessssss.” He hisses, “want to drink from you. Suck on your tits.” He thrusts up into you, making the water splash and he switches to your other breast, moaning at the feel of your tight cunt around his cock.

“Bad boy.” You gasp out, head tilted back in pleasure. “You- you’re supposed to let me ride you.” You remind him, even though you don’t mind it at all. It’s fun, this teasing and light banter during sex. A complete change up from normal sexual encounters.

Dieter loves you calling him a bad boy. “Damn. I know. I’ll be good.” He promises, “I’ll be a good boy for you, baby.” He vows, keeping his hips still as he kisses along your chest and neck.

You chuckle quietly, loving how desperate he kisses you and how he sounds. The thick drag of his cock inside you feels even better without the protective latex and you gasp loudly when he twitches inside you. “Oh fuck baby, look at that big dick inside me, feels so good. Only you can feel this good inside me. That big dick’s gonna fill me up, huh?”

“Fuck me.” Dieter groans at your dirty words, “fuck you are so good. So damn good to me. Feel incredible. Shit. This tight pussy feels so good without latex. So tight, hot and wet. Unbelievable. So Damn good. Want you to cum for me.”

“I’m going to, baby. Gonna scream so loud that the neighbors will hear.” Water is sloshing onto the floor but you don’t care, chasing that extreme rush that you get when you cum. Lifting yourself up to slam back down on his cock like you are riding a bucking Bronco. “Fuck baby, gonna cum!” You squeal.

Dieter watches you, your tits bouncing, and he is groaning your name. “Do it. Cum for me. Cum for me baby girl.” He demands, reaching between you to rub your clit.

Throwing yourself forward, your lips slot against his desperately while you come apart. Moaning his name against his mouth as your walls clamp down on his cock and the harsh bouncing turns into desperate grinding.

Working you through it with his hand trapped between you, and he kisses you. Tongue sliding against yours and he’s not ready to cum yet. He waits until you have stopped shaking and he caresses your back, “good baby?”

“Yes.” You whisper, closing your eyes and smiling against his lips. “God, I don’t see how you are single.” You are so drunk on pleasure, you don’t even have a filter. “I’d refuse to let go of this if I had it. Not the money or whatever, but the sex. The way you make me feel.”

“Jesus. Me too. You feel so good. How - how are you single? You’re incredible. Perfect fucking wifey. Beautiful, sexy, kind. Cooks - cooks a mean fucking breakfast. Pussy tastes amazing. Jesus, those assholes who couldn’t accept your job are fools. You’re amazing.” He is also drunk on pleasure and he hasn’t even cum yet.

It almost hurts to start moving again, the head of his cock speared up against the most wonderful little spot inside you that there is a rush of liquid coating him when you move. “Shit!” You gasp out, eyes wide and you freeze, sure that he will think you just peed on him.

“Did you - shit - did you just squirt?” He asks, eyes wide and his cock twitches inside of you. “Fuck baby. Tell me.” He demands, his voice raspy as he leans back to look at you.

“I-I-“ you shake your head, unsure of yourself since you’ve never done that before. “I think? I didn’t- I know I didn’t pee.” You promise, feeling your face flame up, despite the fact that he is wide eyed. You aren’t sure of what he will say.

“Fuck thats so hot. Let’s try it again.” He grabs your hips, rocking you in his cock. “Tell me when we find it again.” He orders, thrusting up into you in different angles until you cry out his name.

It’s so sexy that he likes that. “Never- never don’t that before.” You gasp out, clinging to him as he frantically tries to recreate that moment. “Just with you, baby.”

He fucking loves hearing that, keeping his cock pressing against that spot again and again as he rocks you on his cock. “Want you to cum like that again. Want you to soak my cock, squirt on it, want you to squeeze it. Can you do that for me baby?”

“Yes.” You moan, leaning back and whine in pleasure when his tongue slides around your nipple again before he sucks it into his mouth. “Fuck, do anything for you, just keep touching me.”

Dieter doesn’t stop, keeping his tongue on your nipple, flicking over and over again and he thrusts up into you, desperate for you to cum again, to squirt again.

When he hits that spot again, the twist of pleasure makes you scream. Soaking him again while your thighs spasm around his hips and your walls squeeze his cock so hard you swear your will hurt him.

Groaning as you squeeze his cock hard, soaking him, and he throws his head back at the way you grip his cock. “Holy fucking shit. That’s so hot.” He gasps out, rocking up into you as much as he can and he hisses as he cums, unable to stop himself as he fills you up with his seed.

Now you feel it. The flood of warmth from his cum filling you and making you whine as he pumps you full. “Oh fuck, oh fuck Dieter.” You stroke his chest and collapse against it, kissing his neck softly.

“God, I hope it takes.” Dieter murmurs, stroking your back as you lean against him. His cock twitches inside of you as he rides out his orgasm, lost in the haze of pleasure as you slump against him. “Fuck, I want it to take.”

It’s just role play. You remind yourself of that as you kiss his jaw up to his lips again. He is just feeding into the fantasy of this weekend. Sighing softly, you smirk as you lean back. “That was an even better Christmas present than my bracelet.”

Dieter chuckles, “yeah? My cock beats a Cartier bracelet?” He is pleased and amused to hear that. “You being here is the best Christmas present I’ve ever had.” He tells you, swallowing harshly and he dreads the moment you leave his house. He doesn’t care about the money, he cares about being alone again, about being lonely without you here. “Stay. Stay until the new year. I’ll triple the money.” He offers.

Your eyes nearly pop out of your head, they get so wide and you immediately shake your head. “No- Dieter, I can’t- holy shit.” You whisper. “I can’t take sixty thousand dollars from you.” You blow out a small sigh. “I- I can’t even take the other ten thousand.”

Dieter frowns, leaning back from you. “Why not?” He is hurt, upset that you don’t want to stay with him, even for the money. Have you truly hated being with him? Have you really despised him that much? Are you a better actor than him? All those insecurities threaten to drown him and he pushes you off of him, his cock falling from inside of you. “Fine. You don’t have to stay. You can leave now if you want.” He offers coolly, stepping out of the bath and he doesn’t even grab a towel as he walks into his bedroom to grab some clothes. He needs to get out of here, he can’t be around you if you’re just gonna leave him like everyone else.

You stare at the empty door for a moment, thoroughly confused by what the hell just happened. You were trying to tell him that you didn’t want money for spending time with him. You really loved being with him just because. Confused, you stand up and let the water out of the tub and wrap an oversized towel around your body before you leave to find Dieter.

Dieter is pulling on sweatpants when you enter the bedroom, making him freeze. “I’m going out. You can get your stuff and go. I’ll wire the money. I won’t break my word.” He promises you as he pulls on a t-shirt, his heart breaking that you want to leave.

“Dieter stop, please stop.” You reach out and touch his arm but he just jerks away from you like you disgust him. “Fine.” He obviously doesn’t want to talk. “I’ll leave, but I don’t want your fucking money.” You spit. “I’m going to wire the ten thousand back to you. I’ve done nothing to deserve it. Especially when I’ve loved every second of being here.” You turn around and walk out of his bedroom, biting your lip to keep from crying as you hurry down to the room he had set up for you.

Dieter pauses when you hurry down the hall and he frowns, wondering what you mean by that. Wanting to find out, he stomps down the hall and slams your door open. “What the fuck do you mean? You hated being here? That’s why you won’t stay, why you won’t take the money.” He explains what he is thinking and he hates how his eyes prick with tears of betrayal.

“What?” You’ve managed to get your leggings and bra on, tears on your cheeks obvious and you shake your head. “What are you talking about? I can’t take your money because it would be wrong. I am not letting you pay me sixty thousand dollars for doing something I would do for free.”

“Why the fuck would you do it for free? No one wants to be around me for nothing. No one wants me for me. I know it’s the money. Everyone wants a piece of me. I want to pay you to spend time with me. I don’t want you to leave. No one has ever made me feel like you do. I don’t even want you to go but I know you’ll get tired of me like everyone else does.” Dieter rages.

Your heart completely breaks for him, the defiant and confused expression on his face reminds you of a puppy who is left behind at a kennel, overlooked by potential families. Fuck, you always said you wouldn’t take on a fix’er upper and here you are. You shake your head and take a step closer, “Dieter, I don’t want your money. I promise you. I don’t want a piece of you, I just want to spend time with you.”

“Why?” Dieter chokes, a tear escaping his eye and he stubbornly wipes the tear from his cheek. “Why would - no one wants to just spend time with me. I’m not easy to deal with.”

“No you’re not.” You scoff. “You have not been rude or demanding once. You’ve asked permission to do anything and you are so grateful for anything that I do for you. That’s not difficult.” You step up to him and caress his cheek. “Could you be difficult? Sure, but so can I. I think you being in that club was the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time.”

Dieter melts under your touch, “are you - seriously?” He asks and you nod, smiling at you. “I think you’re the best thing that’s happened to me in - in my entire life. I don’t want to give you up. I know you’re not mine but I want to see what happens. I just - you’re so beautiful and kind and you make me feel like a normal person, you make me feel like a normal man, not just an actor. I could easily fall in love with you.”

“Dieter, I wasn’t telling you that I didn’t want to stay.” You promise him. “I just don’t want you to pay me. I’ll stay here with you until the New Year like you want. I have to work but I will come back here after? If that’s okay?”

Dieter reaches out to cup your cheeks, “you want to stay?” He asks and you nod. He grins, unable to believe that you want to stay with him. “I don’t want you to go. You can work - I wouldn’t stop that - but I don’t want you to leave me. I don’t mind paying you but I want you to know that I haven’t felt like this before.”

“Are you- are you asking me to move in?” You ask, confused by what exactly he is wanting. Does he want you to stay for another week or forever? “I just want you to clarify.”

Dieter is confused by his own feelings, knowing that he is asking a lot of you. “I want you to stay until the New Year and if you want to stay, I’d like you to move in. I - I want to explore this - us - without the outside world ruining it. My fans, the internet…I want us to figure it out before I expose you to that bullshit. I think I could fall for you so stay…don’t go.” He pleads.

You bite your lip, frowning slightly. “You know that it will come out that I am a cocktail waitress at a strip club.” You feel that it’s only right to warn him but Dieter just scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“Yeah and I’ll tell them that’s where I met you.”

You don’t know if you would want him to do that, but you do want to stay. “I’ll stay. We’ll figure out what we want to do. Together.”

Dieter surges forward to press his lips to yours, so pleased you are staying until the new year and you’re going to stay so you can figure out what you feel for each other. “Together.” He murmurs against your mouth. “Merry Christmas baby.” He sighs, pulling you close and he knows this has been the best Christmas he’s ever had. He knows that he’ll likely be in love with you by the new year and he desperately wants you to stay with him, be in his life.

“Merry Christmas.” You tell him and he smiles, “best Christmas ever.”

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

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a-strange-inkling · 2 years ago

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Day 16: Tradition

Chicago, Illinois 1986

“No,” Eddie shakes his head wildly, curls whipping back and forth. “Nope! Absolutely not!”

“Just a little?” Chrissy asks, sliding over to sit on his knee, her bottom lip swelling as she wraps her arms around his neck.

Very, very, cute. But, still no.

“Come on boy, it’s a family tradition,” Wayne objects, already a little slurred, reaching for the mason jar to fill a glass for her. “One shot after dinner, just let her try some.”

“Noooo!” Eddie replies, snagging it from him. It’s always concerning when he’s the voice of reason in the room. “I find myself a nice girl and you’re trying to fucking poison her, old man.”

“Excuse me, boy, you watch that mouth.” he scolds. “It’s Christmas!”

Eddie rolls his eyes. Of course he’s still sober enough to reprimand him.

“Aren’t I family?” she asks in a tiny voice, really overselling it with the big sad eyes and fluttery eyelashes. God help him.

He gives her waist a little squeeze to placate her. “Of course you’re family, sweetheart,” he consoles. “But you’re also a hundred and eight pounds and the strongest drink you’ve ever had is ginger ale.”

Her pout becomes less sad and more petulant. “I’ve had a vodka cranberry before.”

“A half of a vodka cranberry and that almost did you in.” he chuckles, taking her chin in his hand. “Don’t make that face, you know I can never deny you anything, so believe me when I say that this is too rough, baby.”

“But, I just want to try the tiniest bit.” she whispers, pressing her forehead against his, pinching her finger and thumb as close as possible without touching to demonstrate just how tiny she means.

He pulls back and looks her dead in the eye. “No.”

“Eddie!” she whines. “C’mon!”

“If she’s going to be a Munson, she needs to try it at least once. It’s a rite of passage.” Wayne insists. “Our girl is tough as nails; she can handle it!”

“See!” she cries, shaking his shoulder. “Wayne says it’s fine!”

“That’s because Wayne is toasted after two shots! Wayne!” Eddie tells her pointedly, holding up the jar for her to see, the clear liquid sloshing around inside. “Honey, this isn’t your regular everyday hard liquor, okay? It’s handmade, southern, backwoods acid.” he explains. “It’s pure moonshine. It burns holes inside your guts. You know all the shit I’ve done and tried, and I swear to God, this this is the nastiest stuff I have ever put in my body.”

She stares at it for a few seconds, then looks back at up at him. “Just a little drop?”

“Oh my God,” he sighs, head falling back in exasperation.

“Good lord, you know you’re going to cave eventually, just let her have some.” Wayne grumbles.

“Please.” she draws out at that sweet high octave that makes him absolutely crazy.

Eddie groans under his breath before snapping his head back up. “You know what, hot shot? Fine, you can take a sip off the top of mine, but just a sip, you hear me?”

She nods eagerly as he pours his shot glass.

If Eddie was a smarter man, he’d have taken his shot first and left her a little leftover to sip. But he did repeat the twelfth grade three times and this concept doesn’t come to him until after he hands her the full glass and she chucks it all back in one go.

“Woaw! Hey! Holy shit!”

@hellcheerxmas

#tbc lol #hellcheer countdown #hellcheer #hellcheer xmas #hellcheercountdown #hellcheer advant calendar #eddie x chrissy #eddissy #munningham #chrissy x eddie #hellcheer fanfiction #hellcheer fanfic #old haunts

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jade-likethegemstone · 3 years ago

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Vodka, Mistletoe and a Pretty Cool Scar (Christen Press x Reader)

A/N: Just something to celebrate Christen's birthday. Please ignore any mistakes, I only wrote this today.

Warning: There is smut toward the end...

“You look like you could use a drink.” you say, walking up to Christen who is sitting at the bar, waiting for the bartender who is currently occupied with a large group of women ordering drinks.

Christen immediately turns her head to look at you, a sad smile playing on her lips.

“Is it that obvious?” Christen says with an air of sadness.

“Sort of, also I’ve seen you waiting for the bartender for a while now, so I’m reckoning you really want that drink, or you would’ve stormed off.” you say with a small smile before jumping onto the bar table and spinning so you get off on the bartender's side of the bar.

“What are you doing?” Christen asks, turning her head frantically to see if anyone saw you practically jump over the bar.

“Getting drinks, unless you don’t…”

“I don’t think you’re allowed back there, and I can wait for the bartender.” Christen replies nervously.

“You could wait, or you could just let me get you a drink?” you suggest, already reaching for the alcohol to make your drink while Christen eyes you skeptically.

She would love to get her drink now instead of waiting even longer for the bartender, but she also doesn’t want to steal from the bar.

“If it helps, I know the owner and I do this all the time, so I’m technically not doing anything wrong.” you say, noticing Christen’s apprehension.

“I don’t even know your name.” Christen says, when she realises that she’s being offered alcohol by someone who’s name she doesn’t even know.

“My name is Y/N, and you’re Christen Press.” you answer with a cheeky grin when you notice the shy smile on Christen’s face at her being recognised by you.

“So how about those drinks?”

“Ok, fine.” Christen says, still eyeing you skeptically but feeling a little better about allowing you to make her a drink now that she knows your name, at least she hopes that’s your name.

“Wonderful, so, what would you like to drink?” you ask, having already finished making yours.

“What do you recommend?” Christen asks.

“Do you drink vodka?”

“Yes.” Christen answers simply.

“Well then, you look like someone that would enjoy a passionfruit martini cocktail. It’s really good.”

“Ok then, I’ll have one of those.”

“Perfect.” you say before gathering all the ingredients to make the cocktail.

“So tell me, what’s got you all alone at a bar on the day before Christmas eve?” you ask as you mix her drink.

Christen takes a deep breath and eyes you carefully while trying to decide whether or not she wants to tell her sob story to a stranger she just met.

After a few beats of silence, she decides to just get it off her chest, it’s not like she’ll see you again.

“My girlfriend broke up with me two months ago and my family keeps checking on me, so I needed to get out.” she answers truthfully, her words laced with hints of sadness and slight annoyance.

“I feel like I should add just a little more vodka to this. That is heavy. Your girlfriend just broke up with you just before the holiday season?”

“Yeah, said she needs space to figure things out and I was being too clingy and crowding her.” Christen says with a bite.

“Well, that’s her loss then, I don’t think I’d ever want space from a beautiful woman like you.” you say with a soft smile and kind eyes as you pass Christen her cocktail and the shot of champagne that goes with it.

“Thank you.” Christen says with a light blush dusting her cheeks.

“Don’t worry about it, and the drink is on my tab, so you don’t have to worry about that either.” you say with a small smile.

“In actual fact, the bottle is on my tab too.” you say, before reaching for the bottle of Grey Goose you used, setting it down on the table.

Christen eyes the bottle before looking up at you, confusion clear in her eyes as she watches you climb back over to her side of the bar.

“How about you and I get out of here and you can tell me all about the stupid ex while we both get hammered?” you ask, holding up the bottle of vodka in your hand.

“Uhm…” Christen hums, narrowing her eyes at you. Was she really about to go and pour her heart out to a stranger while getting drunk with said stranger at another place, possibly this stranger’s house?

“If you’re worried about me killing you or anything like that, I won’t. There are cameras all over this place, I’d never get away with it, and I just feel like you could use someone to talk to, away from all of this?” you explain, gesturing to the growing crowd around the bar.

That’s all it takes for Christen to down her drink, wincing at the burn of the vodka and the champagne shooter before nodding her head and sliding off her stool to follow you.

“That was hot.” you say, the drink you downed as well, getting to you just a little bit.

Christen only giggles before allowing you to pull her out of the bar and into the cold night air.

˳˳˳˳

The next morning Christen wakes up with a groan and a horrific pounding in her head that has her silently promising herself never to drink ever again, like ever.

Just as she’s about to close her eyes and go back to sleep in the thankfully dark room, she bolts up, looking around frantically when she realises that the bed is too big to be in her room at her grandmother’s house, and the fact that the room is extremely dark, even in winter her room would get the sun first thing in the morning.

“Oh my god.” Christen mutters, holding her head as she remembers what happened last night.

After the bar, she followed you back to your parent’s house – which thankfully wasn’t too far from the bar – where she proceeded to tell you about her and Tobin’s break up and how the other forward thought she was being too clingy by staying in the UK with her and following her around for all her games.

Christen thought she was being sweet by being there for her girlfriend, but it turns out that Tobin wanted to be alone, claiming she was trying to re-establish herself and try to figure out her identity away from Christen and the other girls on the USWNT and in the NWSL.

As her sob story flowed so too did the alcohol and with that came some flirting – on both sides – which only escalated and oh god… she did the one thing Tyler told her not to do, she slept with the first sexy woman that bought her a drink at the bar.

Christen groans, dropping her face into her hands. She really slept with the first woman that bought her a drink, granted you also listened to her talk about her relationship, or lack thereof now, but still…

She can’t even feel bad for herself because the sex was good, so so good, amazing even. It may have been a drunken haze and there was a lot of clumsy touching and drunk laughing, but Christen definitely remembers pleasure, a lot of it, the toe-curling kind that leaves you throbbing and aching in all the right places. The very same pleasure that can leave you with a sore throat and hoarse voice, which is exactly how it left Christen.

Turning around to get out of bed and somehow make it to the kitchen for some water, Christen spots a tall glass of cold water and two painkillers sitting on the nightstand next to the bed with a note saying, figured you could use this, come to the kitchen when you wake up.

After reading the note Christen gladly takes the pills and drinks them with the water before slipping on a random oversized sweater that was lying on the floor and slowly making her way to the kitchen, at least she hopes she’s going to the kitchen.

Does she even know where the kitchen is?

After a few minutes of wandering and trying to find her way to the kitchen she eventually makes it and finds you making breakfast.

“Good morning sunshine.” you greet with a pretty decent attempt at a sunny smile – which looks more like a grimace – considering you’re also nursing a pretty nasty hangover.

What possessed you to drink that much vodka?

“Morning” Christen grumbles, settling on one of the chairs at the table in the breakfast nook.

“You look as bad as I feel.” you say, attempting to make a joke as you pour out two mugs of coffee.

“I probably feel worse.” Christen counters.

“Well, I’ve got just the thing for that.” you say walking over to the table and handing Christen one of the mugs of coffee and a plate with avocado toast and a sunny side up egg on the top.

“This should help with the hangover. I can make you another egg if you don’t do sunny side up.” you offer, internally praying that you won’t have to make another egg. It took all your energy and concentration to make the two perfectly sunny side up eggs, you doubt you could pull off another egg without it looking scrambled or worse, like a complete disaster.

“No, this is perfect.” Christen says, bringing the cup of coffee up to her lips, relishing in the aroma of fresh coffee that fills her nostrils, already waking her up just a little bit more.

You just nod you head before settling yourself on the chair opposite Christen and digging into your food.

“This is so good.” Christen moans out a few seconds later, following your lead and digging into the breakfast in front of her.

“Not to brag, but it really is.” you say, groaning at the taste of the food in your mouth.

You and Christen continue eating, exchanging in minimal small talk, focusing mostly on the food and coffee in front of you.

“Y’know, last night worked out a lot better than the last time I kissed you.” you say, leaning back on the chair, already feeling better after demolishing breakfast and two mugs of coffee.

Christen narrows her eyes at you, trying to figure out what you’re talking about.

“You don’t remember?” you ask, genuinely curious whether or not Christen even remembers the first time you kissed her. You certainly would never forget that night, it ended up with you in the emergency room.

“I’m sorry, but no.” Christen says, trying, and failing, to wrack her brain for any memory.

“You remember Joey Nelson? He used to throw parties at his house when his parents went out of town on the 23rd to meet friends for their annual pre-Christmas dinner?” you ask, hoping to jog Christen’s memory.

“Yes, I went with Tyler to a few of those, there was always alcohol…”

“Yeah, well one of those years we played seven minutes in heaven and while we were kissing you-

“I tripped backwards and you’re the person that knocked their head on one of the shelves in the closet. Tyler had to drive you to the emergency room because there was so much blood.” Christen says, not believing that you were the same person she injured while kissing them.

“That’s me. I ended up with two stitches and a pretty cool scar.” you say, lifting you hand up and pointing at the scar just above your eyebrow.

“I can’t believe I forgot. You were the first girl I ever kissed and after what happened I thought I was being punished for liking girls.” Christen says, remembering how for several months she repressed her attraction to the same sex because she thought your injury was her punishment for kissing another girl.

“Really?” you ask, genuinely shocked that that was her takeaway from the whole things. All you took away was that you needed to kiss her again because that was one of the best kisses you’d ever had.

“Yeah. When I told Tyler, she and my parents sat me down and explained that it was a mistake, and I wasn’t being punished. I missed out on freshman year exploration because I was scared I would injure someone else.”

“Wow. I am so sorry my clumsy feet took that experience away from you.” you say.

“I feel like I should be the one saying sorry, it was my clumsy feet that got us in that position in the first place.” Christen says with a nervous chuckle.

“How about we call it even and blame the alcohol.” you suggest, jokingly outstretching your hand for Christen to shake, which she does, nodding in agreement to your suggestion.

˳˳˳˳

Later in the day you find yourself pulling up to Christen’s grandmother’s house for the second time.

After breakfast and taking a much-appreciated shower, Christen was ready to go home and you offered to drive her instead of her having to order an Uber.

You didn’t plan on going back to the house, but while you were tidying up the deck, where you and Christen spent most of the night, you found her chain on the table, a chain that you remember her telling you belonged to her mother. So you figure she’d want it back as soon as possible. That’s how you find yourself at the Press residence for the second time on Christmas eve.

One of Christen’s cousins opens the door when you knock and they usher you in after you explain that you’re here to drop something off for Christen.

“Y/N?” Christen says, walking into the living to find you standing there with your hands in your pockets as you wait for her.

“Hey.” you say, a little nervously when you notice Tyler and Christen’s cousins watching you.

“What are you doing here?” Christen asks, also getting a little nervous at the audience around you.

“Christen, who’s this?” Cody asks, eyeing his daughter as he walks into the living room with his mother.

“Uhm…” Christen starts but is saved by her grandmother.

“That’s Y/N Y/L/N. Her parents own the hardware store about three blocks away and her brother owns that bar Christen went to last night.” Fran says.

“Hi Mrs Press, how are you?” you greet.

“I’m good.” Fran replies with a soft smile.

“What’s got you coming to this side of town on Christmas eve?” Fran asks.

“Oh right, uhm, Christen forgot this at…”

Christen looks at you with wide eyes as you’re about to finish your sentence, and luckily you catch on quickly. You don’t need to tell her family that she forgot it at your parents’ house after a night of drinking and good sex.

“She forgot it at the bar last night.” you say, pulling out Christen’s necklace and holding it up for her to see.

“I figured you might want it back as soon as possible.” you say with a soft smile as you hand it over to a very grateful Christen who spent most of the day berating herself for not having your number or remembering where you lived so she could get her necklace. Her plan was going to the bar again in the hopes of running into you again.

“Thank you so much.” Christen says.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I should probably head out.” you say awkwardly, after a moment of silence.

“Nonsense, why don’t you sit down. We were about to make hot chocolate and I’m sure Christen wouldn’t mind making you a cup as a thank you for bringing her necklace back. A lesser person would’ve stolen it.” Fran says.

“No Mrs Press, she doesn’t need to do that.” you reply with a nervous chuckle. You don’t need any thanks or anything like that, and you don’t want to make Christen nervous.

“No, I insist. Christen, Tyler, why don’t y’all come into the kitchen and help with the hot chocolate and Y/N, you can wait in here. It won’t take too long.” Fran says and you can’t do anything except nod your head and sit down on one of the chairs in the living room.

Not even ten minutes later Christen is walking over to you with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate topped with small marshmallows.

“Here you go.” she says, handing you your mug before sitting down next to you with her own.

“I’m sorry about this, I didn’t expect to stay.” you apologise.

“Don’t worry about it.” Christen says with a small smile.

“So Y/N, any plans for tomorrow?” Tyler asks, eyeing you and Christen with a small smirk.

She knows Christen didn’t come home last night, like almost everyone thought, because the forward snuck into her room, because it was the easiest to sneak into. She also saw the fading hickey on her sister’s hip and when you came in with the necklace, it was easy to put two and two together.

“I’ll probably order in and watch some Christmas movies.”

“No big family lunch?” Tyler asks, ignoring the pointed look Christen is sending her.

“No, my parents are on a cruise and my brother is visiting his in-laws for Christmas. So I’m running a solo show tomorrow.” you explain.

“You’re going to be alone on Christmas?” Christen’s aunt asks.

“Yes. But it’s not that bad, and I might go to the bar to celebrate a little later in the day.” you answer.

“Nonsense, you should come over tomorrow for Christmas lunch.” Fran says.

“There’s no need Mrs Press, I don’t want to be an inconvenience.” you say, hoping she accepts your answer.

“You won’t be, and I would feel terrible if I let you have Christmas alone. You come by tomorrow and you can spend Christmas with us. There’ll be more than enough food and you won’t be alone.”

“Really Mrs Press, I don’t mind spending my Christmas alone. You really don’t need to invite me…”

“Nonsense. I’ll see you tomorrow for lunch.” Fran says, with a no nonsense tone.

“There’s no way of me getting out of this, is there?” you asks Christen quietly and she just shakes her head.

“Alright Mrs Press, thank you very much. I’ll definitely come over tomorrow.” you say, not noticing the look passing between Tyler and her grandmother. Tyler wasn’t the only one that noticed Christen sneak in or the only one that pieced everything together.

“Y/N, you should probably take Christen’s number, so she can let you know when to be here for lunch.” Tyler says, smirking behind her mug when she sees Christen’s face pale slightly.

“That’s a good idea Tyler. Christen, make sure you get Y/N’s number.” Fran says, winking at Tyler.

˳˳˳˳

“Is there anything I can bring tomorrow?” you ask as Christen who – as per her grandma and sister’s requests – walks you to your car.

“No, we always make enough food to feed an army, you should just bring yourself, I guess.”

“I would feel bad, I’m sure there’s something I can bring. My parents taught me to never show up empty handed.”

“Well, we don’t normally make a lot of dessert, maybe you could bring that and a bottle of wine. I think we’re going to need extra, and by we, I mean me.” Christen says with a soft chuckle.

“Dessert and wine. I can do that.”

“Again, I’m sorry about all of this. I’m sure you weren’t expecting to see me again and now I’m invited to Christmas lunch.” you add apologetically.

“Don’t be, I don’t mind having you around and my grandma was right, you shouldn’t be alone for Christmas.”

“Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then?” you say as you start to open your car door.

“Yeah, I’ll send you a message to let you know when the house isn’t going crazy.”

“I can’t wait.”

˳˳˳˳

True to your word, you show up to the Press residence with a dessert and two bottles of wine as well as a case of beer.

“I like her.” Tyler says when she sees the wine you brought, one of the bottles being one of her favourites.

“Me too.” Christen says absentmindedly, her cheeks immediately going red when she realises what she said.

“I didn’t… I mean…”

Tyler just hums with a knowing smirk as she watches Christen flounder.

“She’s already a step up from Tobin. She actually brings really good wine.” Tyler teases, laughing when Christen glares at her, slapping her arm as she walks out of the kitchen.

“I hate you.” Christen mumbles softly, following her sister out to the living room where you’re sitting and chatting with her other family members.

The rest of the day goes on without too much teasing – from Tyler especially – and you find yourself enjoying the day with Christen and her family, laughing at the banter and how red Christen’s cheeks go as some of her family members bring up the usual embarrassing holiday stories to tell around the table. Your favourite is the one about a four-year-old Christen losing a tooth after running too fast to the Christmas tree and tripping over her own feet sending her crashing to the floor.

The teasing, however, comes back full force when both you and Christen find yourselves underneath a sprig of mistletoe, that you swear wasn’t there before.

“You guys have to, it’s tradition.” Tyler says with a smirk, shutting down a very argumentative Christen Press.

“Tyler’s right.” one of Christen’s cousins says.

“But…”

“It’s just one kiss and then hopefully they’ll get off our backs.” you say quietly, so only you and Christen can hear. Christen looks at you with disbelief, she though you would at least help her argue.

“I don’t mess with traditions.” you say with a small shrug.

“Fine.” Christen gives up, glaring at Tyler, who is sporting a very smug and knowing smirk.

Christen takes a deep breath before turning to face you, preparing to kiss you, in front of her whole family. Look, she has nothing against kissing you, god knows she hasn’t stopped thinking about it since yesterday, but to kiss you in front of her whole family, in front of her dad?!

What if she trips again and you need stitches again?

When you see Christen looking nervous, but expectantly at you, you shoot her a reassuring grin before bringing you hand up to gently cup the side of her face before leaning in. Just as Christen closes her eyes and prepares to feel your addictive lips on hers again she feels them, but on her cheek, close to the corner of her mouth, but not close enough to really be on her lips.

Her eyes flutter open and she looks at you questioningly, furrowing her eyebrows when she sees your soft smile.

“The last time I kissed you with your sister in the same house I ended up with stitches, I didn’t want to chance it.” you joke quietly, your smile getting wider when Christen starts laughing.

“Boo.” Tyler says, jokingly giving you and Christen a ‘thumbs down’. Christen replies by sticking her tongue out at her sister.

“Do not stick that thing out at me, I don’t know where it’s been, or who it’s done.” Tyler says with a triumphant smirk as the rest of the room bursts out laughing at the joke and how Christen’s cheeks and the tips of her ears turn a bright shade of red.

˳˳˳˳

Much later in the night – more like early hours of the morning – you find yourself tiredly changing into Christen’s spare pyjamas while the green-eyed woman finishes her nightly routine in the bathroom.

You tried to leave close to midnight, but Christen’s grandma, and most of the family insisted that you stay because it was late, and you had a few drinks. You tried to argue and tell them you were going to get an Uber, but her family can be quite stubborn and persistent. Tyler only made it worse when she recommended that you share Christen’s room instead of the couch and everyone else agreed.

“What are you doing?” Christen asks, leaning against the doorframe, unabashedly checking you out in one of her oversized sleep shirts and plaid pyjama pants. You look good in her clothes, and she isn’t going to be shy about checking you out, although that’s probably because of the alcohol she consumed.

After a few glasses of wine, she found herself no longer being shy about checking you out or flirting with you, much to Tyler’s enjoyment. It’s not like she blatantly flirted with you in front of her aunt and uncle, or even dad and grandma, she did it mostly when you were with her and Tyler, helping them with the clean-up and the dishes.

“I was setting up the floor.” you say, smoothing out the blanket you set down on the floor.

“Why? There’s a bed right there.” Christen asks, walking into the room.

“I know, I just didn’t want to assume anything or make you uncomfortable.”

“We’ve shared a bed before, two days ago, and I was quite comfortable.” Christen says, a flirtatious lilt to her words.

“Just grab the blanket and come to the bed Y/N.” she says, rolling her eyes when you watch her while mentally trying to figure out if you should actually join her on the bed.

Christen’s words are really all it takes for you to grab the blanket off the floor, lay it over the bed – with Christen’s help – and follow the forward into the bed.

“I should warn you, I’m a cuddler.” you say, rolling over so you’re facing Christen, your noses almost touching at how close you need to lay together because of the size of the bed.

“Me too.” Christen says.

“I know. I woke up with you wrapped all over me last time. You don’t know how difficult it was to weasel my way out of your arms that morning.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, I quite like waking up like that, especially when the person wrapped around me is as beautiful as you.” you say, smiling when you see a light pink dusting Christen’s cheeks.

“You’re quite the charmer.” Christen muses.

“And you’re quite beautiful.” you say, bringing your hand up to lightly trace Christen’s features, enjoying how her eyes shine in the moonlight escaping through the small gap in the curtains, and how her shy smile also reaches her eyes and makes her face seem softer.

You didn’t get the chance to really appreciate how gorgeous Christen truly is the last time you shared a bed, so this time you were going to make sure you didn’t miss out on your opportunity.

“Look who’s talking. You’re gorgeous and honestly one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever met in my entire life.” Christen says.

“Look who’s the charmer now.”

“I really want to kiss you right now.” Christen mutters a few seconds later.

“I really want to kiss you too.” you say, noticing how Christen’s tongue peeks out to wet her lips, her eyes flitting to your lips before going back to your eyes.

Christen taking that as her cue, shifts forward and presses her lips against your own, applying just the right amount of pressure that has you lightheaded and chasing more. Her lips taste as sweet as the last time you kissed them, and you can taste hints of the minty toothpaste she used, a hint of citrus from her lip balm and something so unmistakably Christen.

The kiss starts off slow, Christen dictating the languid pace, a pace you’re more than happy to go along with, allowing yourself to be consumed by green-eyed woman who you’d kissed so many years ago.

You groan softly when you feel Christen’s tongue brush against your own and Christen swears it’s the sexiest thing she’s ever heard in her life. It’s also what spurs her to separate from you for a quick moment so she can straddle your thigh before quickly attaching her lips to yours again, her pace a little quicker than before.

Your hands instinctively go to her hips, your hands hot against the skin underneath her sleep shirt. Christen moans when your teeth tug at her bottom lip and your hands travels higher up her torso, your thumbs drawing circles against the skin dangerously close to her breasts.

You can’t help it when your hips cant up right after Christen grinds down against you, giving you a taste of the delicious friction you find yourself craving so much that you move you hands back to her hips to help guide her against your thigh.

“Y/N.” Christen whispers against your lips when she feels you flex your thigh against her.

“We could get c-caught.” Christen says, stuttering when you bend your leg so your thigh presses against her even more.

“We can stop right now.” you say, trying to catch your breath as you look up into Christen’s eyes, a shade darker than earlier.

Christen looks down at you, taking in how swollen and red your lips look and how much darker and more intense your eyes are as you stare up at her like she’s the most beautiful woman in the world.

Looking at you is all Christen needs to make up her mind and abandon any fears of being caught. Her family kept pushing her to share her room with you so if they somehow heard or caught you together, that’s on them.

Although, she really hopes no one catches the two of you. That's bound to be awkward.

“No, I want you.” Christen whispers against your lips before claiming them with her own again.

You flex your thigh again when you feel Christen grind against you and Christen swallows the moan that escapes your mouth when you feel her thigh press against your centre, giving you the friction you’re desperate for.

Your breath catches in your throat when Christen lifts her shirt over her head revealing her bare torso just begging to be touched, to be worshipped. Your lips immediately attach themselves to her perky nipple, your one travelling to give the other nipple attention.

“Fuck.” Christen mutters as she throws her head back at the feeling of your lips on her, of your teeth nibbling at her nipple and the feeling of your strong and steady thigh against her clit.

“Shhh.” you whisper against her heated skin, taking her nipple into your mouth to silence the moans threatening to spill from your lips when you feel Christen move the hand, not holding her up, past the waistband of your – her – pants until the pads of her fingers are applying a delicious pressure against your clit.

Christen groans quietly when she feels just how wet you are against her fingers, feeling a little smug at the effect she has on you.

“You’re so wet baby.” Christen whispers sinfully against your ear before taking your lobe between her teeth.

“Fuck Chris.” you moan, feeling the forward’s strong fingers rubbing against your clit, through your already soaking panties.

It’s not long until you’re shirtless and you feel Christen’s fingers hook your panties to the side before continuing to draw tight circles against your clit that have you biting your bottom lip in a desperate attempt to keep quiet.

Christen isn’t fairing much better as your hand continues to guide her hips against your thigh, rubbing deliciously against her clit, leaving her to sink her teeth into your skin or press her lips against any skin she can get to in an attempt to quiet her own moans.

The room is filled with breathy sighs and silent moans as you and Christen rock against each other, each applying just a little more pressure as you work each other up to that glorious awaiting crescendo.

“F-fuck, C-Christen…” you breath against her lips, your hips canting up, chasing your pleasure as the coil in your lower belly starts to wind tighter and tighter.

“I’m g-gonna… fuck…”

The coil in your belly comes undone and all you feel is white hot pleasure and Christen’s fingers slowing down against your clit to help you ride out your high.

Christen’s eyes are transfixed on your body, how your back is arched, your head thrown back and your eyes closed as your ride the waves of pleasure.

“S-st-stop.” you whimper, your voice hoarse as you guide Christen’s hand away from your clit and slowly up to your eagerly awaiting lips, moaning whne you taste yourself on Christen’s fingers.

Christen watches you with rapt attention, transfixed on the sight of her fingers between your lips and the feeling of your tongue against the pads of her fingers. When you moan, she unconsciously grinds down against your thigh, bringing both your attentions back to her pleasure, forgotten while you were in the throes of your own climax.

You release Christen’s fingers with a pop before moving your hands back to her hips to help guide her against your thigh.

Christen’s so turned on after seeing you cum that it doesn’t long before she reaches her own high, the erratic rhythm of her hips slowing down as your name tumbles from her lips like a silent prayer.

You’re sure that your name has never sounded better falling from anyone else's mouth and that you would much rather spend the rest of your life listening to your name fall from Christen’s lips than anyone else’s.

Christen lets herself fall next to you, her bare chest heaving up and down as she tries to catch her breath.

“That was…”

“Yeah.” Christen mutters with a satisfied smile.

“Your birthday’s on the 29th right?” you whisper when Christen cuddles up next you, resting her head on your chest.

“Mmm.” Christen hums, sleep slowly starting to cloud her mind.

“Let me take you on a date?”

“On my birthday?” Christen asks, turning her head to look at you, a little more awake than she was a few seconds ago.

“Yeah, unless you have other plans…”

“I have nothing planned.” Christen says, settling back against your chest, sighing as she feels your fingers scratching lightly against her scalp.

“So… date? Or are we just fucking?” you ask softly.

“Date. I want more than sex.” Christen says, pressing a soft kiss to the underside of your jaw.

“Great.” you mutter softly, finally closing your eyes and smiling brightly. You finally have a date with the most beautiful woman you know.

Christen closes her eyes and hums quietly, an equally bright smile gracing her features when she thinks about the prospect of you taking her out on her birthday. She thought she was going to have a terrible holiday season and a lonely birthday, but here she is, in the arms of a beautiful woman who gave her an amazing orgasm and is going to take her on a date on her birthday.

˳˳˳˳

The next morning both you and Christen flush when you’re greeted by a very smug Tyler, who asks if you had a good sleep, her lips curved into a knowing smirk as she drinks her morning coffee with Lindsey.

It takes you until you hop into the shower to realise that you got caught because you have a small hickey on the side of your neck that neither you or Christen noticed until the shower, which also meant that everyone else in the family must’ve seen it too.

Great…

#christen press #christen press imagine #christen press imagines #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #woso imagines

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