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endlessthxxghts · 5 months

Text

Routine

Frankie Morales x coffee shop worker!afab!reader || W/C: ≈7.9k

Summary: Frankie makes a new routine for himself to help with his mental health. In that routine, Frankie stumbles upon you.

Content/Warnings: POV switching - stops towards the end, then POVs are combined. Friends to lovers. Slightly scared and reluctant friends to lovers. Slow burn. Canon divergent to Frankie's Triple Frontier storyline (No history of lady or child for Frankie). Brief mentions of South America and Frankie's mental health. Brief therapy talk. Overthinking!Frankie, but Reader comforts and reassures him. He’s not insecure the entire time, promise lolol. Hints of angst, but this is me we’re talking about — always will be a happy ending here🫶. No physical description of reader besides coffee shop uniform (no size descriptions used) - any descriptions are neutral, no adjectives to describe (purely things like "your thigh" etc.). No use of "y/n". SMUT 18+ MDNI (making out, cunnilingus + fingering, unprotected P in V sex + cumming inside, breast worship/titty sucking). If there's anything that should be up here, please do not hesitate to let me know!

A/N: Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and happy days, everyone! This Christmas season, I was apart of @pedrostories' 2023 Secret Santa event where we gift some type of creation to another fellow Pedro-related blog on here. I'm honored to have created this story for the lovely @alwaysbethewest ! I'm a huge sucker for a soft man, so in reading the prompt you gave, I just had to write for good ol' Francisco Morales—the sweetest of the bunch. This story was so cute and sexy to write, I'm so excited to see what you think. I truly hope you enjoy!

MASTERLIST

Frankie

You need to create a routine.

One that takes you out of your house.

Out of your comfort zone.

These words rang in Frankie’s ear as he allowed his feet to make decisions for him today. Ever since South America, Frankie has been struggling to maintain a sense of normalcy again. He rarely leaves his house unless it’s for groceries or work — or as of the last few months, unless it’s for therapy.

Frankie’s therapist noticed he was falling back into his old habits, his old mannerisms; and in being prompted about what his day-to-day looked like outside of therapy, Frankie was met with those three phrases.

“You need to create a routine.”

“I have one,” Frankie says defensively.

“One that takes you out of your house.”

“I do,” he says. “Work. The store.”

“And out of your comfort zone.”

Frankie scoffs. As soon as he thinks of a quip, his therapist’s watch beeps. Saved by the bell.

Frankie rises, getting ready to leave the room. His therapist leaves him with a new assignment. “Clear your schedule. You’re doing nothing but spontaneous decisions tomorrow.”

He takes a breath to calm his frustration. “How will you even know if I’ve done it?” Frankie asks.

“I’ll know.”

“And if I lie?”

“I’ll know,” his therapist reassures.

Which is why he finds himself in the early afternoon at a coffee shop, during what looks like to be its busiest hours of the day. Shit.

He enters the line as he scans the menu on the wall, the line being long enough he’s sure he’ll make a decision by the time he gets to the register. He usually gets straight black coffee, but taking his therapist’s word a little too seriously, he opts for something else.

Hazelnut? No. Mocha? No. Vanilla? No. Fuck, okay, this is harder than it looks.

He scans the tinier board off to the side for today’s special: an horchata latte, either iced or hot. Horchata? He can absolutely get by that. The guy at the register takes the order of the customer in front of him, and the same guy switches off and begins to make the customer’s drink. Waiting to be helped, Frankie reaches into his pocket to get his wallet ready, but still angsty from the hustle and bustle of the coffee shop, his grip fumbles and he drops it.

He bends down to go pick it up, and as he stands back up, he’s immediately met by the most heartstopping view. You, with a brown apron, a hand-drawn name tag, and powdered sugar adorning your cheek. The smile on your face as you greet him causes his brain to short circuit.

“Hi! How can I help you today?” you beam at him, completely unaware of the cuteness radiating off of you, melting his anxieties made of wasps and transforming them into the shape of flapping butterflies all throughout his tummy.

“I- um, hi- yeah, I’d, um-” he stumbles on his words. You smile at him, nodding your head patiently and understanding. “Shit, sorry-” he laughs nervously.

“You’re okay,” you giggle, slightly intrigued at the flushed state of the man before you. “This your first time here? We’ve got a lot of options, it can be very nerve wracking picking from our menu,” you comfort, probably assuming it’s the first-time jitters taking away his ability to speak.

“Oh, uh- yeah, it’s my first time here,” Frankie confirms. “But actually, I had my mind set on today’s special? The horchata latte?”

Your face lights up like a million suns, and his heart feels like it’ll burst any second now. “Oh my gosh, really?!” you squeal. “That’s my creation we’ve highlighted today,” you say excitedly, “and you’re actually the first to order it!” You ring up his total, Frankie handing you his card to swipe in the machine. “Hot or iced?”

“What do you think?”

You study him for a moment. “Personally, I like iced because horchata in itself is already so refreshing, so it adds to that. But you seem like you’d prefer it hot, which is also objectively just as good.”

“Wow,” Frankie says with a smile.

“Was I accurate?”

“Right on the nail,” he confirms.

“Your name?” you ask, reaching for a cup.

“My name?” He asks, confused.

You gesture to the cup with a smirk. “For your order?”

“Oh,” he says. You catch the blush that falls on his cheeks. “Frankie,” he tells you, his hand shooting to the back of his neck to soothe his awkwardness.

“Well, Frankie,” you say after writing his name. “I’ll need an honest review after,” you smile at him as you turn away, signaling for someone else to take register so you can be the one to make his drink.

He can’t help the cheesy smile that forms across his face at the prospect of getting to speak with you again. He turns around and searches for an open table.

He sat on his phone for a few minutes, waiting for his name to be called when someone clears their throat in front of him. He looks up to see you, powdered sugar still kissing your cheek and two drinks — one iced and one hot — in your hands with that smile he’s slowly becoming addicted to.

“Didn’t know you guys do table service?” Frankie asks, in a joking manner but truly he’s curious.

“We don’t,” you smile smugly as you place his cup in front of him. “Told you I needed my review.”

He smiles at you, then reaches for a napkin and lifts his hand towards you as you sit in the seat across from him. He gestures to your cheek. “May I?” You go pale. “Oh, God, don’t tell me I’ve had shit on my face this entire time?”

“Okay, then I won’t,” he offers gently. You lean closer into his hand, giving him the green light. He wipes the powdered sugar from your cheek, his face in concentration mode as he makes sure to wipe it all off. He feels you staring, his face heating up the longer your eyes are on him, but he doesn’t break.

“There,” he whispers, “the shit is gone.” Your faces are still inches from each other.

“Thought you weren’t gonna say anything?” you whisper back.

He breaks the proximity first, clearing his throat to steady himself. He doesn’t reply to your remark. Instead, he grabs the coffee and brings it up to his lips. “Let’s see what this is all about, yeah?” The second the hot liquid touches his tongue, he knows his days of black coffee are over. It’s creamy, the perfect amount of cinnamon, a perfectly pulled espresso shot that highlights the natural nutty undertones — it’s fucking perfect, and he tells you exactly that.

“Guess now you’ve got an excuse to come back,” you tell him.

“I think I had an excuse before that,” Frankie quickly lets out before taking another heady sip, referring to the beautiful human sitting past him.

You lean back in your seat, arms crossed over your chest, something akin to trouble written across your face. “Yeah,” you breathe. “Yeah, I guess you did.”

He’s experienced enough to know when someone is flirting with him. He’s experienced enough to notice a mutual attraction. Yet, there’s something so bold, so intoxicating about you that you’ve thrown him off balance. Whether you’re just a naturally friendly, bold person, or you’ve actually taken an interest in him, there’s no way he’s going away now. You’ve got him hooked.

You need to create a routine, he was told, and creating a routine is exactly what he’s going to do.

It’s been six months since his first visit, and in those six months, he’s had the opportunity to really get to know you.

In the first month, he visited twice a week, once during the weekdays and once on the weekends. He made sure to time it on what he noticed to be your shift, and he also timed it for right when you were about to take your break. Catching on pretty quickly, you offer him a bit of reassurance.

“My schedule is the most consistent out of all of my coworkers, by the way,” you say, sipping on your iced mocha.

His ears perk up. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Been here the longest, so the owners let me play around with my schedule and pick up shifts that I want to,” you tell him. “But my therapist a few years ago told me to set a routine for myself, so-”

Frankie chokes on his coffee with a laugh.

“Oh my god,” you giggle, “you okay?” you ask him, leaning forward to pat on his back.

Frankie’s breath falters at the contact. “Y-yeah, I’m good,” he pulls away from your embrace out of nervousness. If you notice, you don’t mention it. “Just threw me off a little.”

“Why? What’d I say?” you reply.

“No, it’s nothing, it’s just,” he sets his coffee down. “A month ago, I had a therapy session, and my therapist told me the exact same thing. They literally told me I needed to create a routine for myself,” he says.

“Oh,” you say with a straight face. Your face goes unreadable for a second, and he feels like he fucked something up. “So is that why you’ve been harassing me for weeks on end?”

Frankie looks like he’s just seen a ghost, pale and flushed at the same time, his ability to form any kind of words rendered impossible. “I- no, I-”

In his state of panic, he’s looking everywhere except you. He feels your hands wrap around his, and you’re leaning closer to him, forcing him to look into your eyes. “Frankie, I’m joking,” you coo. You can see his jaw unclench as he searches your eyes for any signs of discomfort from him. Nothing. There’s something there as he holds your stare, but nothing tells him you don’t want him here. A shy smile forms on his face, and the bashful blush on his cheeks return. He knows you notice it, but still, you don’t mention it.

“For what it’s worth,” you speak again. “I enjoy having you in my routine, too,” his own giddy demeanor reflecting back at him through you. There goes the butterflies again.

Five months in, and he’s coming into the shop everyday. He doesn’t always get coffee, but mostly, he’s there to see you. Sometimes you’re way too busy to take a break any time soon, so he’ll slip in, give you a little wave hello, accept your sweet smile in return, and he’ll slip out.

“Gonna actually get something today, Morales?”

A few visits ago on your break, you ask him if his name is short for anything, and quickly add in that if Frankie is what he prefers, you don’t care to know anything else. His heart melts at the sentiment, at how understanding and gentle of a human you are. Not only to him, but to everyone who has the privilege to interact with you.

Francisco Morales, he tells you. Francisco, Frankie, Frank, you can call me whatever you want. This time, he thinks he catches the heat creeping on your face, but he doesn’t acknowledge it.

“Morales, huh? And what do you mean actually?”

“I’m not dumb, Frankie,” you smirk. “I know you don’t get anything a few of the times you stop by.”

He swears his heart falls out of his ass. He thought you’d be too busy to even notice. As a former special op, he thought he would have been more slick about it.

He scans the menu above you, as if he hasn’t studied it a thousand times over, just to get out of your piercing gaze. “Just tryna keep the routine, is all,” he retorts.

“The routine, huh?” you smile at him, a hint of mischief in your eyes, along with that same something he can’t quite identify — it makes his chest swell. “Your favorite is back on the menu, by the way.”

Frankie turns to the special board: horchata latte. Smiling to himself before he responds, “I’ll have that, then,” he says, reaching for his card. “You going on your break now?” he asks.

“Yes,” you reply, “and coffee is on me today.”

His eyebrow quirks up at you. “Please?” you tell him with the world’s worst (more like cutest) puppy dog eyes he’s ever seen. How the hell can he say no to you now?

“Fine,” he deadpans.

You squeal in excitement. You shoo him away to go find a seat, and you’re at his side within moments, two hot cups in your hands.

He looks quizzically at the other cup. “I don’t know, I’m just feeling like a hot cup today,” you shrug. “What can I say, you’ve influenced me,” you giggle, not realizing just how much that statement affects Frankie’s crushing little heart. God, you’re beautiful, he can’t help but think as you curl up as best you can in your chair while you sip on your coffee. He knows he shouldn’t feel this way about you. One, you’re practically his best friend at this point, and two, you probably wouldn’t want anything to do with someone like him.

“So,” you say, pulling him from his thoughts.

“So,” he repeats.

“I was actually thinking of taking this weekend off,” you tell him.

His face falls a little, but he’s quick to fix it before you notice — hopefully. “Oh, is everything okay?” he asks.

“Nothing bad,” you reassure him. “I just think I need a little weekend to myself before the busy holiday season really starts.”

“That’s understandable,” Frankie replies.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “But…” you trail off.

“Buuuut?” He drags the word out for dramatic effect, sensing your nervousness and wanting to help calm you.

You giggle at his antics. “But I don’t wanna break our routine,” you say quietly. A little oh escapes his mouth. “I was wondering if you- if you wanted to hang out, maybe? On Saturday? Or even Sunday? Whatever works for you… and you can obviously say no, don’t feel obligated-”

It’s always been you cutting him off from his overthinking and comforting him, and now it’s his turn. He leans forward, wrapping his hands around yours as they hug your coffee cup. He gives you a little squeeze and calls your name gently. “I would love to.”

“Okay,” you say sweetly. “Wanna do a movie night?”

“Anything you want,” he tells you.

It’s surprising he didn’t have your phone number until five months in. Though, come to think of it, he’s seen you practically everyday since he met you. And there was no need to communicate beyond that. Right?

Shaking his head to clear him from his thoughts, he copies your address from your guys’ text thread and pastes it into his maps. It takes him five minutes to get to your place, and as soon as he gets to your front door, you’re already opening before he has a chance to knock.

“Oh! Frankie, hi,” you gasp delightedly. “Perfect timing,” you laugh. “I was just gonna grab the groceries out of my car. Go inside, make yourself at home.”

“Hi,” he smiles, “I can help with the groceries?”

“Oh, that’s okay, it’s just one bag. Give me one second,” you say walking to your car.

He waits for you as you grab the bag, both of you walking back inside together. “So I’m terrible at picking a movie, and if I didn’t narrow down our options, I feel like we’d be here all night deciding.”

“What do ya got for me?” he smiles as he makes his way to your couch, purely just enjoying being in your presence regardless of the movie you both decide to put on.

“Alright, since we’re nearing Christmas, I have a few holiday options, and then a few general of my favorites — Elf, The Grinch, or Home Alone; or we can do my personal favorite, but I promise I’m good with whatever you choose, Labyrinth, Paddington 1 or 2-”

Frankie’s eyes light up at the latter option, and you immediately catch on. “Okay, so I’m guessing one of the Paddington’s?” you say with a snort.

He grimaces. “Was it that obvious?”

“Frankie, you literally looked at me like I am your entire world,” you laugh. “Yes, it was that obvious.”

“I mean, it’s not any different than how I usually look at you,” Frankie says without thinking. Immediately his hand is on his mouth.

He sees the shock on your face for a millisecond before you’re back to your usual cool and collected self. How the fuck do you do that? “Okay but which Paddington? There’s only one right answer, here.”

Although his heart is still beating through his damn chest, the question puts him back on track. “Paddington 2, duh,” he says without missing a beat, he rolls his eyes as he playfully scoffs at you.

“Good answer,” you say sternly but with a smile. You set up your TV onto Paddington 2 and then quickly run to the kitchen to grab the popcorn you made. You set the bowl on your coffee table, turning back to grab something to drink. “What’s your drink of choice? I’ve got water, tea, soda — I can whip up a coffee for you, too, if you’d like,” you yell to him.

“Hmm, enticing, but I’m okay with water for now, though, thank you.”

You return back to your living room, scanning the table making sure you don’t need anything else. You ask Frankie if he does.

“Just you,” Frankie says, again, not thinking before he speaks. God damn it, Francisco, get it together.

You smirk at him, he sees your eyes tracing the red across his cheeks. Christ. “You’ve had me for a while, Morales,” you say under your breath, softly but still loud enough for him to hear. Your words genuinely cause his heart to skip a beat. You settle onto the couch beside him, ignoring his shocked face. “Ready to watch?” hints of your smugness still there.

“Y-yeah, ready,” he stutters.

Six months. It’s been six months since he met you and his old self would never have expected his day to day to look like this. He’s got a usual stop at your work—always on his lunch since you start later—sometimes getting coffee and other times your smile is all that he needs to feel energized for the day.

You

And on the weekends, you two share a movie night—your version of recharging for your next work week.

Ever since the first weekend you took off, you loved the mental break it gave you, so Frankie encouraged you to take the leap and start taking off every weekend. The owners agreed, of course. He assured you it wouldn’t break into your routine together. If anything, your time together has increased significantly. You genuinely have no idea what you’d do without Frankie at your side nearly every single day, but there’s something in your heart telling you he’s feeling the same way.

For six months, since the very first moment he fell bashful in his presence, you’ve been completely and utterly captivated by him. You knew you shouldn’t be feeling this way about him—especially not so early and not for this long—but there’s always been a magnetic pull between you. Both of you know it and neither of you can deny it, especially in the occasional flirty comment made by either of you, but there’s something holding you back from pushing for something more. You’ve grown accustomed to seeing him practically every single day, and one wrong move or one wrong boundary crossed, and suddenly everything is gone. You can’t risk it. You’d rather keep him at arm's length at all times rather than not have him at all. He’s your best friend for crying out loud. You cannot lose him to something so juvenile.

However, with tonight being your weekend ritual paired with a particularly draining week of work, all you wanted was to curl up in a ball and sleep your entire weekend away. Though, what you wanted more was to see Frankie. He told you it was truly okay if he didn’t come tonight, knowing about how hectic your week was, but you weren’t having any of that.

“I swear to God, Frankie, I will fight you,” you told him on the phone earlier.

“Oh, really?” You could hear his smug face in his reply. “I’d like to see you try.”

The butterflies erupt in your belly and begin to fly lower towards your core, igniting a spark in the lower part of you that you’ve been trying to keep at bay for months. You take a deep breath before steering the conversation elsewhere. You know he both hates and loves when you do that—smoothly pulling away from the bait he gives you while saving his ego in the process. You’ve gotten so good at this after years of unwanted flirting from customers. You didn’t realize how perfect this skill would be in keeping your distance from the man you want most.

“Shut up and get your ass over here, Morales,” you tell him. “I know where you live, you should be here by the time I change into my damn pajamas.”

“Should I change into mine, too?” He teases.

You both know Frankie loses every flirty little challenge that occurs between you. Which is why he isn’t surprised at your response, but it still stirs him up nonetheless. “That depends,” you say, your voice dropping in tone. “Are you a gray sweatpants or plaid pajama pants kind of guy?”

“Both,” he says. To the average ear, it’d sound like the most casual response. To your ear, though, you can hear the pain laced in his voice.

You stifle a giggle. “In that case, yes, please, by all means. Change into your pajamas, baby.”

You don’t leave room for him to reply, ending the call before you can overthink how that was the most suggestive flirty comment you’ve made yet.

Pulling your head back into focus mode, you go to your kitchen to start preparing the usual snacks you two indulge in during these nights. You also got a new ice cream flavor on your last grocery run that you thought was interesting and wanted to try, but you’ll pull that out when he gets here. Or maybe not. You don’t need to watch him clean off his spoon like the attentive man you’ve come to learn that he is. Your body shudders at the image.

Goodness, what is up with you today? You are always so good at keeping your feelings down, especially the physical ones. There must be something in the air today, because all you can think about are things you shouldn’t be doing with or to your best friend.

Before you know it, a knock is at your door, and you cannot help the way your eyes immediately sweep his body from top to bottom with a lingering stare at his center. You’re absolutely shameless with it, too, your tongue darting out to lick your lips as you drink in the sight of him. Gray sweatpants. A dark green, fitted tee. You are drooling.

Your eyes finally meet his own, and you’re met with a smug Frankie, knowing that this time, he won this round. “You alright there?” He asks you.

Confusion takes over your face. “Huh?”

He brings his fingers up to swipe across his lip. Oh, dear God. “Got a little bit of...” he trails off with a smile.

Your ears finally register his remark, and your hand is immediately swatting at his chest. “Yeah, yeah,” you roll your eyes. “Get inside.”

He follows you into the kitchen, a new thing he started doing a few weekends ago to help bring all the snacks to your living room in one go rather than multiple trips. It also takes away from the amount of time he’s not with you, so you never questioned it. Walking back to the living room, you speak once more. “I cannot guarantee staying up the entire time, and I apologize now if I fall asleep on you.”

He says your name in an I told you so manner, “I already told you I didn’t have to come.”

You’re sitting side by side on the couch now. “And I already told you I don’t care,” you respond back. He shakes his head disapprovingly at your persistence. You know he’s biting back a smile. A goofy smile you’ve caught a handful of times, and you eat up every single one. “You can choose the movie, though, seriously.” Adjusting yourself to a more comfortable position on the couch, a position where the sides of your bodies are closer together, your head finding solace on his shoulder, you add, “I swear, I think I wanted you here to be my pillow.”

“I’ll be anything you want me to be,” he whispers, taking control of the remote to throw on Elf. Your eyes are already beginning to close, and you mutter a small yeah at Frankie’s statement, then you are out like a light.

Frankie

Frankie spends most of the night watching and listening to you rather than the movie. Watching how your nose twitches ever so often or listening to the occasional snore that escapes you. He doesn’t even realize the movie is over until a trailer for another movie is halfway through. His wingspan allows him to reach the remote nearby, and he quickly shuts the television off.

He debates if he should wake you and make sure you get to your bed safely, or if he should just slip out from underneath you and continue letting you sleep. You look so peaceful, he thinks. Yet exhausted. He decides on letting you sleep. Or at least, he tries to.

He gently attempts separating himself from you, his hand cradling your head to rest it on the couch cushion rather than his shoulder. Even in your sleepy state, you’re just as stubborn. You smack his hand away and wrap your arms tighter around his arm, nuzzling your head further into his shoulder to gain your comfort back again. You let out a final huff before settling on your position.

“Sweet girl,” he whispers. He can’t stop the endearment leaving his lips. His heart is too full at the way you’re physically attaching yourself to him. “I need to go,” he says softly. “Gotta let you sleep.”

Your grip tightens more so, a little whimper leaving your lips as your eyebrows furrow. “Stay,” you mumble.

And although you’re fully overtaken by sleep, he’ll be damned if he ever argues with you, no matter the state you’re in. He takes a deep, settling breath. “Only for a little while longer,” he mumbles unconvincingly as he minutely adjusts his body to a more comfortable position, his head leaning partly atop yours.

You

It’s not lost on you—the two words that fell from Frankie’s lips when he thought you were deep in your slumber. It took every ounce of your willpower not to shudder at the way it echoed throughout your fatigue-hollowed brain.

You thought that maybe, with Frankie’s perception of your sleepy state, you could let part of your inhibitions go with him—reveal to him how you really feel, and pretend the next morning that you don’t remember what you said if something you don’t want to hear is revealed. Though, that’s easier said than done, only able to build the courage to mutter one little word to him as you continue laying in his warm embrace, the soothing sounds of his steady breathing blessing your ears.

The longer you lay here, the more antsy you become. What could possibly go wrong if you two revealed how you feel to each other? You know one hundred percent that the feelings are mutual; it’s a matter of who breaks first, and quite honestly? You’re fed up.

You lift your head up, turning to look at him. He’s out. “Frankie,” you whisper-yell. Nothing.

“Frankie,” you say a little louder. Still nothing. How the hell did he doze so fast?

Finally, with a small slap to his cheek and one final call of his name, he’s up—and confused as fuck.

“Huh-” he blinks heavily. His groggy eyes are searching for you. “Cariño, are you okay? What’s going on?” he rushes out, the sleep disorienting his ability to respond appropriately, forcing worry to the forefront of his mind. Too worked up to let his brain chemistry regulate, you rip the bandaid right off. “Francisco, do you have feelings for me?”

Well, fuck. If he wasn’t awake then, he sure as hell is now.

“I-” he takes a deep breath, still trying to get his brain to catch up with the whiplash of events. “Where’s this coming from?” he asks, slightly defensive from the natural accusatory inflection with a question like this.

Your face falls. So does his heart. “Frankie, don’t be coy,” you say—you beg. “Please, just answer the question.”

He breaks your closeness, turning his body on the couch to completely face him. You mirror his movement. His eyes are searching yours. That something he couldn’t quite identify; that something that swims your gaze every time his eyes meet yours? It’s there, and he knows damn well what it is. He was just too afraid to admit it, to mortalize it into something real, something tangible. Because deep down? He knows he doesn’t deserve you. He doesn’t deserve the love you give. The loyalty. The care. He’s done too much bad in this world to even fathom a mere chance at a life with you.

But the way you sit there, staring back at him like he’s your entire world, he can’t stop the selfish desire to spill his truth to you.

“Yes,” he lets out. The pure admittance is like a ton of weights have been completely lifted off of his chest after carrying it for so long. He can see the relief on your face, too, all your anxieties washing away with a single-syllable, three letter word.

“Oh, thank God,” you softly giggle as you choke back a sob. Frankie can feel his eyes tear up.

“Frankie?” you call.

“Yeah?” He asks.

“Please kiss me.”

His hands are on your cheeks in seconds, pulling you in to slot his lips with yours, a sweetness laced with a fire that’s been begging to be ignited since he met you—powdered sugared cheeks and a smile that could take a person out faster than any punch in the gut could.

It’s quick to grow more passionate, his tongue dancing across your bottom lip, asking for entrance. You let him in, of course—your tongue falls into a perfect tango, as if it were meant to be doing this dance with him all along. A soft, breathy moan escapes your lips, and you eventually build enough strength to pull away.

Frankie’s quick to apologize, his overthinking getting the best of him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get so carried away-”

You pull him in for a quick kiss to shut him up, a little laugh swirling in the air. “At what point did I make it feel or sound like I wasn’t enjoying that?”

In the dim light of your living room, you see a familiar tint glow across his nose and cheeks. He doesn’t—and can’t—respond to your very sound logic. “No, I-” you start, suddenly feeling yourself get all shy. “I pulled away because I- um…I was wondering if y-you-” you cut yourself off in frustration, grumbling out at the way you suddenly can’t face the man whose tongue was in your throat moments ago.

You pick yourself up off the couch, grab his wrist, and swiftly lead you two to your bedroom. Crossing the threshold of your room, you stop at the edge of your bed. “I-is this okay?”

Frankie stares at you in a trance, a lust-filled yet pure adoring trance. Before your eyesight can register, Frankie’s dropping to his knees, hands on your hips to urge you to settle on your bed. “This is okay,” he promises.

He kisses your belly through your pajamas. “More than okay,” he mumbles to no one in particular.

“Frankie,” you whimper.

“Can I taste you, baby?” He asks, his gaze finally breaking from your eyes to glance down to your core.

“Y-you don’t have to,” your voice quivers.

His fingers find the hem of your pants, waiting for your signal. “Oh, I don’t have to,” he tells you. “But I want to,” he inhales. “To be honest, I need to, so fucking bad, baby.”

“Fuck,” you say as you rapidly nod your head for him, his hands wasting no time in pulling your bottoms of you. The desperation laced in his voice alone has your eyes wanting to roll back. You’re settling yourself to the edge of your bed, leaning back as you spread your legs for him. “Take what you want, Morales,” you declare.

He smirks before he dives in. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Oh!” you gasp out at the sensation, pure warmth and passion behind his movements, your head struggles to maintain upright at the sight. Your bottom lip instinctively hides between your teeth in an attempt to stifle the moans threatening to escape you, your tiny little whimpers the only sounds escaping you.

He starts with a flat stripe up your cunt, his tongue gliding through your folds and lapping up your wetness to bring it up to circle your clit a few times before dragging back down to your entrance. His fingers are curling into your bed sheet tightly, scared to cross any boundaries by moving too fast to your liking. His cock instantly jumps at his senses being consumed; your sweet, tangy taste mixed with the distinct, saccharine scent that’s uniquely you—he can’t control the groan that escapes his throat and floods through you. God, he could spend forever worshiping at your altar, completely and utterly content.

He pulls away momentarily, the slick bottom half of his face shining back at you. “I just know you can make a lot more of those sweet sounds for me, cariño,” he says as his tongue licks his bottom lip. “It’s just you and me, baby, let me hear you,” he says with a sharp flick of his tongue to your clit. “F-fuck,” you yelp out, your body jolting at the sudden piercing pleasure of his tongue’s movement, your fingers scrambling to the curls on his head. He looks up to you with a smirk, reveling in your reaction.

And with that, his hands are gripping your thighs, his face jumping right back in, completely flush against your center, his nose squished against your mound. His eyes are rolling back at the feel of you, the way your slick just pours for him as he continues licking and sucking everywhere he can reach. “F-feel so good,” you moan, your strength finally breaking as your upper body crashes down onto the bed, your back arching in pleasure.

His dominant hand releases your thigh, and you can feel his finger teasing your entrance as his mouth treks back up to your needy bundle of nerves. “Frankie,” you gasp, “please.”

He moans a raspy mhm into you, his finger not wasting another second before he dips inside, utterly turned on at the warmth wrapped around his finger. He can only imagine how you’d feel wrapped around his aching length.

Frankie lifts off your clit with a pop, his finger still pumping in and out, in and out. Your hips are meeting each movement, desperate moans and incoherent pleas leaving your mouth as he watches your pleasure in a pure bliss.

His eyes fall back down to your cunt and the way it’s greedily swallowing his middle finger. “God damn, baby,” he mutters. “I think you can take another, sweet girl,” he breathes, leaning down again to place an open-mouthed kiss on your sensitive center. “What do ya think?” he asks breathily.

He’s watching every inch of you—the way your thighs are twitching, the way your fingers are stark white in its grip, the way your mouth is falling open into a weak o-shape as you try and force words to leave your mouth. “P-please,” you attempt, “a-another-”

Immediately, he’s straightening out his ring finger to join his middle, his smug smirk falling into a desperate one, needing to pull every ounce of pleasure he can from you really his only goal for tonight. “I’ve got you, cariño,” he tells you, his mouth returning back to lavish you as his fingers curl and hit the spongy trigger button from deep inside.

You practically yell out for him—neighbors be damned—as your orgasm overtakes every inch of your being, catapulting you into another pleasure-filled dimension. “I’ve got you,” he comforts with his lips still attached to your skin, “let go for me, mi amor.”

His fingers are still pumping inside of you, fucking you through the intense wave of your orgasm. His head rests on your thigh, pressing soft kisses and sweet praises as you slowly gain consciousness.

“You’re so beautiful.”

“Too good to me.”

“Estoy tan enamorado de ti.”

Frankie takes your hazy disposition for granted, using this small window to whisper everything he’s been wanting to say to you forever.

You begin to whimper at his movements, and he takes that as his queue to relieve you. His fingers finally leave, his mouth taking the responsibility of lapping up your slick—thoroughly, you note, as you watch him rise to his full height.

“You okay, cariño?” He asks as he swiftly takes his shirt off. Your eyes grow impossibly darker at his bare torso, your spit falling thicker, and you’re quick to scramble yourself up higher onto your bed.

“More than okay,” you mirror his words from earlier. He lets out a little laugh, the butterflies in his tummy ever-present as his eyes scan you up and down. He pulls down his sweats, too, before he’s kneeling on the bed, crawling up towards where you’re situated. You can’t help the way your smirk falls when your eyes do—pure hunger consumes your features, and Frankie’s cock jumps at the sight.

He gulps at the way you’re eating him alive, too eager to be inside you yet too nervous in the case of accidentally messing anything up. The last thing he wants to do is cross the line with you.

As if reading his mind, you take the initiative to pull your top off, your boobs an immediate distraction from his anxieties. “Don’t get shy on me now, Morales,” you say as you let your hands caress your body and make its way down to your still-soaked pussy. “She’s feeling so empty,” you pout, your hips bucking up as your fingers rub your clit.

You swear Frankie’s eyes flash red, and he’s caging you against your bed within seconds. One arm hooked around your waist, the other holding himself up near your head. You bracket his hips with your own as his lips hungrily crash into yours.

You can feel the way his cock rubs against your center, his hips grinding into yours, letting his tip catch onto your clit as your tongues fight for dominance. Your hand snakes down without him realizing, a hearty gasp leaving his throat as your fingers pump him a few times before you guide him towards your entrance, easily pulling him in with your post-orgasm slick.

He’s slow with the way he’s thrusting into you; pulling out until only the tip is inside only to push all the way in at an agonizing pace as he lets you get used to his size.“S-shit,” he whimpers, followed by your name. “So d-damn g-good,” he takes a shaky breath. “‘S like you were m-made f’me,” he forces out, pained.

Even though it was an easy glide in, Frankie is fucking huge, his girth still providing a slight sting of a stretch, but you love it. You’re gonna feel him inside you for days at a time, and the thought makes your pussy flutter around him. His hold on your waist tightens in an attempt to steady any squirming that might come from you. “Gonna fucking cum already if you keep on like that, honey,” he groans. His eyes are shut in pained pleasure.

Fighting against his hold, you start meeting his thrusts, the angle of your hips providing the perfect friction against your clit, you just might cum again in seconds if you both keep this up.

“I don’t care,” you tell him, your ankles locking around his waist. “Fuck me, Frankie,” you say, grabbing onto his face to making him look at you. “Make up for loss time, and fuck me,” you snarl.

His lips are sloppily on you, hips speeding up, pounding into you deliciously hard. Both of you are too lost in the pleasure to even properly kiss right now—a mess of spit, tongue, and teeth clashing as you swallow each other’s moans.

Frankie breaks his lips from yours and he trails his touch lower, biting onto your chin and nipping lower and lower all over your neck. The sensation causes a fresh wave of flutters at your core, evident in the even louder wet squelch each thrust produces from between you.

You’re feeling so good, too good, that your chest arches into him, and Frankie takes the opportunity to wrap his lips around your erect nipples. Licking and sucking on each, slathering them in his spit before ultimately latching onto your left breast and practically making out with it as he continues fucking you into your matress.

“Oh my God, Frankie,” you whine, eyes clamping shut at just how good he’s making you feel. “Just like that, baby, please don’t stop,” you say, your fingers finding purchase in his curls for a second time tonight, keeping him on your chest. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum again.”

He lifts off your left breast, and moves on to the right, trailing wet kisses on his path over. “Let me feel you, princesa,” he mutters as he gives your other breast the same treatment. His hand leaves your waist to make its way to your clit, giving you the extra push you needed to fall off the edge once more. Your pussy clenches at the feeling—a stream of yes and please and fuck leaves your mouth—causing his stomach to tighten, dragging him to the edge along with you. “Cum with me,” you say. “Cum in me,” you quickly revise, “need to feel you,” you whimper.

His fingers speed up on you as his hips falter in its rhythm, and then it’s pure white, hot bliss consuming both of you in a way neither of you have ever felt. “Oh, fuck,” he lets out as he lifts off of your breast, pretty red flowers blooming under his mouth’s touch. Fireworks erupt behind your eyelids, vibrating you from the inside out, as a fire roars through every nerve of his body, leaving him a heaving, trembling, jello piece of mass above you as he struggles not to crush you.

You can feel the way his muscles are shaking, the bed vibrating with him. A giggle filled with ecstasy escapes you, relishing in the contrast of the airiness of your body compared to the solid mass he turns into post-orgasm.

You grab onto his shoulders, and softly nudge him to slide to lay beside you before you slip off on jello legs to the bathroom and kitchen. With as much strength he can muster, he turns to you with a frown. “Where you going?”

“Just gonna get a cloth and water for us both, baby,” you chuckle. You head to the kitchen first and bring the waters to your night stand, taking a large gulp from your glass and forcing him to do the same. You bring yourself back to the bathroom and wipe yourself with a warm cloth, throw it in the hamper, and get a new one to clean Frankie.

You make your way to his bedside, and you bring the cloth to his face first. He’s quick to stop you. “Frank,” you scold. “What are you doing?”

“I…” his face goes red. “I can still smell you on me.”

You swear your knees buckle, heat overtaking your entire body. “Let me clean it,” you whisper, not really knowing how to reply to that. He just gives you puppy dog eyes. You quirk your eyebrow at him. “You can taste me again later,” you offer with a smirk.

He thinks it over for a second, a sigh escaping his lips like he just made the hardest decision ever. “Fiiiine,” he drags out, exaggerated.

After you wipe the rest of him down and bring his cloth to your hamper, he’s quick to reach for you with grabby hands, always needing to be in your embrace—especially more so now.

You cuddle facing each other, your head tucked into his neck as your legs tangle with one another. He’s drawing shapes and lines all around your back.

“Hey, Frankie?” you call out.

“Yeah, cariño?”

“You said something earlier,” you say. “Estoy enamorado something. What does that mean?”

Frankie’s ears go hot. Surely after everything you two just did together, that’s a declaration of love in itself. What more if it’s actually verbalized? “Oh. Um- yeah,” he replies a little rigidly. “Estoy tan enamorado de ti,” he repeats the phrase.

You’re looking up at him now, eyes bright and curious. “Yeah, that!”

“It- um- it means…” he trails off. He meets your gaze, and his heart stops. He’s so in love with you.

“Well,” he clears his throat. “It means I’m so in love with you.”

Your gaze shifts from one of curiosity to one of pure, unfiltered love. Your eyes are tearing up at his admission. He brings his finger up to catch a tear escaping your eye.

You sniffle and take a shaky breath in. “Well, in that case. I’m so in love with you,” you state matter-of-factly, pushing your body up to catch his lips in a soft but lengthy kiss, one that hopefully translates to him just how much you love him, need him, and want him—ever since you took his order.

He releases your lips to place a soft kiss to your nose then to your forehead before pulling you in closer to relax in each other’s hold. A few more moments pass before he calls your name.

“Hm?”

“Can you remind me tomorrow to reach out to my therapist?”

“Of course, baby,” you say with a kiss to his chest. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah, baby, everything’s good,” he confirms. “Just need to send them a gift basket or something.”

You look up at him with a confused look on your face. “You and your therapist give each other gifts during Christmas?”

“No,” he tells you. “Well, I thought we didn’t. But in telling me to fix my routine, they led me to you, so.”

“Baby,” you frown, feeling yourself tear up again.

“I know I pay ‘em to do this,” he says, “but a gift like this? A miracle like this? I feel like I’ve gotta give something a little more.”

Unable to hold in your emotions, you crash your lips against his for the millionth time tonight. Pulling away a little breathless, you say, “Sign my name on there, too.”

End note: Again, I truly hope you, @alwaysbethewest (and everyone else) were able to enjoy the way this sweet sweet story unfolded. I didn't realize just how much their dynamic would mean to me, but here we are, an entire piece of my heart later💚. Thank you for prompting me exactly what you did. I'm endlessly grateful. Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and Happy New Year! Lastly, I just want to give a little special shoutout to my rock @javierpena-inatacvest for proofreading this story for me and making sure it did our Frankie boy justice. I love you.💚

Tags: @katiexpunk @janaispunk @farmerlarrry @mellymbee @jobee403 @soavenuepenguin @rainbowcosmicchaos @untamedheart81 @lilynotdilly @babygal-babygal @pedritoferg @pedrostories @akah565 @getitoutofmymind @axshadows @survivingandenduring @joels-shitty-puns @its-nebuleuse @yorksgirl

Please let me know if you would like to be tagged in future stories or would like to stop being tagged altogether. Much love! Xx

EDIT: As of the new year 2024, I no longer do taglists!! Follow @endlessthxxghtsnotifs and turn on the notifications to be updated when new stories come out!!

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fairyhaos · 5 months

Text

Ꮺ cold ice, cinnamon smiles // lee seokmin

dokyeom x gn!reader, 1.6k words

tags: 1800s britain au, christmas au, ice skating, fluff, meet cute, strangers to lovers, seokmin is the 3 c's: cute and clumsy and chivalrous

warnings: none

notes: merry christmas everyone ^_^

summary: winter is a harsh time of the year, cold and merciless, but what happens when you meet a boy who has a smile warm enough to melt the coldest of ice?

When the weather gets cold enough, sometimes the river Thames will freeze over.

It’s utterly delightful, because it allows you to take out your skates, dress up as warm as possible, and spend several hours on the ice that had once been the river, breathing in the bitingly cold air and sighing in content.

This year, it's right on Christmas Eve, so it means there's the gentle, warm scent of cinnamon and nutmeg wafting through the air from the Christmas fairs set up along the river, as people skate over the recently-frozen surface, spending some time before their cherished holiday out on the ice.

There’s the chatter of children as they slide delightedly over the ice, the laughter of teenagers as they slip into each other, even the fond chuckles of adults as they help each other stay upright.

Your parents are out on the river somewhere, too, skating hand in hand, in their own world away from the shrieks and laughs of the public.

It’s sweet.

Closing your eyes, you tilt your head back, gliding effortlessly across the river, cheeks stinging with cold but your mind feeling blessedly content when—

“Oh, do watch out!”

Your eyes fly open just in time to see a flurry of brown wool collide with you, and your hands shoot out almost instantly, staggering back a little to catch the person who had barrelled into you.

The stranger yelps, stumbling into your hold, and it’s a good thing that you’re a decently good skater because otherwise this person would have sent you both flying across the ice.

“Sorry, sorry, oh good Lord, I’m sorry,” the person apologises profusely, leaning out of your arms as soon as he gains his balance, brushing his hair out of his face with a finger, eyes wide and earnest and apologetic. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to just slam into you like that.”

You smile, ready to brush away his apologies, because really this could happen to anyone, but as you look properly at the stranger, your breath hitches in your throat.

Dark, soft hair falling into big, gentle eyes. Warm twinkles in his irises and winter-ruddy flushes of red on his cheeks that make him look like some sort of delicately crafted doll, and when he smiles shyly, it's like a ray of white gold light spilling over the grey landscape of winter.

This man is beautiful.

And he’s still apologising, over and over, and he’s brushing down the sleeves of your coat, checking that you’re okay, and you want to laugh a little because goodness, it seemed that this stranger was cute and beautiful.

“No, no, don’t worry about it,” you say, resting a hand on his arm to stay his fretful movements, smiling. “It’s okay, I’m completely fine.”

The man pauses, looking at you with worried eyes. “Are you sure?” he says. “You’re not hurt anywhere, are you?”

He goes back to patting you down again, and if it were any other man, you’d feel outraged at how he’s touching you so easily like this, but his hands are nothing but a gentle pressure over your arms, your shoulders, and the concern emanating from his touch.

“I’m okay, truly,” you say, laughing a little. “I’m strong,” you add, when he looks at you disbelievingly. “My mother has been teaching me to skate since I was little girl. We have a lake in our estate, you see, and in the winter, it always freezes over.”

His eyes widen at your words. “E—estate? Are you—oh, dear, which Lord is your father?”

He looks panicked, eyes widening even further and face falling in fear that he’s damaged the precious child of some haughty and terrifying aristocrat, and it’s so painfully adorable to you that you laugh again, shaking your head.

“No, no, nothing like that. My family and I are just… reasonably well-off,” you say. He still looks like he doesn’t believe you, though, so you stick a hand out. “I’m Y/N. Just plain old me, no fancy titles or anything. I promise.”

The man looks down at your hand, and then up at your face again, and something about your faintly smiling expression must convince him you’re telling the truth, because he grasps your hand firmly, eyes shining.

He doesn’t shake your hand, however, and adjusts his grip to delicately hold your fingers, bending down, making your eyes widen.

Gently, his lips brush against your knuckles, and he looks up at you with golden eyes. “Lee Seokmin,” he introduces, voice soft. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Heart in your throat, you can hardly take your eyes off of him as he smiles, a warm curling of his lips, warmer than the warmest cinnamon scent, glowing in the dim English winter light. Speechless, you watch as he straightens, still holding your hand, and he opens his mouth to say something before suddenly his eyes widen, and he tips backwards, a startled cry leaving his mouth.

Almost in slow motion, you feel yourself tug forward too, and the entire world falls to a hush as you collide into his chest, falling, falling, falling to land right on Seokmin as his back hits the cold ice of the Thames.

Seokmin blinks up at you, and his hair is a feathery soft mess around his head, the white ice giving him an almost angelic glow, and when his lips part around a soft “oh” you can’t help your gaze unintentionally flicking down towards the soft pink of his mouth.

And then everything hits you at once—especially the fact that you’re lying on top of him, in public—and you hurry to scramble off, cheeks flushing with more than just the cold.

“I’m so sorry,” you say, face heating up horribly fast, “I—Are you okay?” You hold out a hand to him, and after a moment of rapid blinking, Seokmin takes it, shakily getting to his feet with the help of your steady hands.

He really is rather wobbly on his skates. You wonder why he’s out here in the first place.

“No, goodness, I’m the one that’s sorry,” Seokmin says, and his cheeks are red too, redder than they were before the fall. “I’m so sorry for pulling you down with me.” He rubs at his cheeks, the action bashful and adorable as you worriedly brush ice flecks from his coat. “I really am rather terrible at skating.”

He looks down, embarrassed, looking rather like a dejected puppy, and you resist the urge to lean over and ruffle his hair.

Instead, you just hum, looking him up and down to avoid lingering to long on at the small pout forming on his face, lest you suddenly lose all self-control and try to kiss it away.

“I could teach you?” you offer. “Because luckily for you, I am rather good at skating myself.”

It’s honestly rather adorable how quickly he perks up at that, beaming. “Really? Oh, are you sure?”

You laugh at his eagerness, nodding. “Of course. We can’t have you colliding into any other people here, can we?”

Seokmin flushes, but his irises are shimmering awfully mesmerisingly, and as he smiles at you, you can’t help but do anything but smile widely back.

You’re about to say something when there’s a shout of your name in the distance, and you look behind you to see two familiar figures, waving and calling for you to come over to them.

“Y/N, dear, it’s getting late! We ought to go home now,” your mother calls, and your heart sinks.

Seokmin seems to hear them shout too, because he chuckles a little regretfully, face falling, and he looks so sad that your heart squeezes painfully. “I suppose you need to leave,” he says. “It’s a shame I won’t be able to have my much-needed skating lesson from you.”

You turn back to Seokmin. “Wait, Seokmin—”

Before you can say anything, he grasps your hand gently, his fingers unusually warm despite the freezing temperatures that you’re currently standing in. And then he leans down (carefully, this time) and kisses your knuckles again, feather light.

“I hope to see you around, Y/N,” he says, and begins to shuffle away.

He doesn’t get far before you glide over and grab his collar insistently, almost making him fall over yet again.

He doesn’t, though, because you’re holding tightly, bringing his face close to yours.

“Meet me again,” you say, almost pleading. “Will you—will you please come here again tomorrow? I know that it’s Christmas Day tomorrow, and you’ll be spending time with your family but do you think you could? I… want to see you again.”

Seokmin’s eyes widen, and his face is so close that you can see the way his eyelashes flutter slightly, warmth spreading across his cheeks.

“Besides,” you add, flushing yourself, “I still need to teach you how to not fall for anyone else.”

It makes Seokmin laugh, a bright, ringing sound that makes you feel oddly giddy, and his face is crinkling into the most beautiful smile as he nods, still laughing.

“Of course,” he says, that gorgeous smile lighting up his entire face. “Of course, I’ll meet you here. You can teach me to fall for you only.”

It makes you blush, but when Seokmin leans in, tilting his head and pressing a brief kiss to your cheek, it has you blushing even harder than you even thought possible, eyes widening as the pressure is there and then gone, replaced with Seokmin’s bright eyes and his bright smile and his bright voice, gradually moving further away.

“Tomorrow,” he promises as he begins to shuffle away again. “I’ll meet you here tomorrow.”

You watch him go, giving him a shy wave, before finally he disappears amongst the crowd of people. Heart beating unusually fast, you turn to go as well, and the ruddiness of your cheeks is not just from the cold.

Giddy, you think of Seokmin’s lips on your cheek and your knuckles, of his fingers holding yours.

It makes you smile. Looks like you have a Christmas date.

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @bunnyiix @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @thedensworld @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @evasaysstuff @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @sakufilms @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @amxlia-stars @raevyng @isabellah29

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roguerogerss · 5 months

Text

snow lands on top

pairing: coriolanus snow x covey reader

w/c: 3.2k

warnings: just fluff! a few sexual comments but nothing more, mentions of family deaths, reader is just a poor lil soul

(merry christmas my angels! if you’re having a hard time, i feel you! here’s some soft coryo lovin to help you through it. the holidays r a hard time for so so many people, and my inbox will always be open to anyone who needs someone who’ll understand <3 luv you the most, we’ll get through it all)

Christmas Eve. The soft patter of snowfall, the breeze from your half open window, the bustle of the Corso below. You'd been listening to the Christmas shoppers - stressed or unbothered - the kids playing in the snow, mothers and fathers dragging their children to holiday themed events. Laying around in bed all day in old silk had become your go-to on the run-up to Christmas.

You’d come to hate snowfall. It meant the sounds of merry families, playing outside together. It meant mourning for when you could do that, it meant resenting others, something that the Covey would never want for you.

Christmas was bittersweet. It had been for years, now. No gifts under your small, sad Christmas tree, no family gathering, no over-the-top dinner event, sometimes no dinner at all. You lived alone, in your little apartment which you could hardly afford, and had no family left since the war.

You remembered the good times, of course, that was the 'sweet' in all of the bitter. Remembering your mother's baking and the smell of sugar cookies and Christmas cake. The lavish real evergreen tree that made the ridiculously high ceilings of your apartment look low. The gifts, the dinner, curling up with a mug of hot milk on the plush sofa. You even thought of your Christmases back in District twelve. Never too fancy, never too many gifts, but a family, the Covey, music, a home.

Life after the war had been cruel to you. What once was a young girl, with a family wealthy enough to move her to the Capitol, had become a young woman with no one to turn to, and not a penny to her name. You didn't have the luxury of pretending like everything was fine, like you had your family's riches to fall back on. Everyone at the Academy had found out when you'd had to ask for a scholarship loan to pay for your tuition, one which you'd never be able to pay back.

That was something you'd always envied of a particular classmate of yours. Coriolanus Snow. Crassus Snow's baby boy. You knew he must've been penniless, as poor as a church mouse. But maybe you only knew that because your own circumstances were much the same. Coriolanus was smart about it, always looking classy from an outside perspective, never asking for money, never acting hungry. But, when looked into closer, you could easily see cracks.

His shoes were the same ones he'd had since first year at the Academy, and they must've been achingly too small for him. He'd eat only small amounts at school and pretend he was full up, but you'd seen him once, with no shirt on, and his ribs stuck out like a sore thumb. Wherever there was an academic prize that involved money, he was always trying his hardest to win, pulling out every stop, but if there was no monetary prize, he'd only do half as much.

You saw right through his act, always had, but instead of exposing him to everyone else out of jealousy, you'd helped him out whenever you could. Us poor orphans have to stick together, right?

You'd share food, give eachother your spare trolley tokens so you wouldn't have to walk the hour back to the Corso, discuss strategy over how to win said academic prizes, and split them with eachother when you did.

You'd become close friends, over the years, even although it was kept strictly as a secret from all of your other classmates. And so, when you heard a familiar voice floating in through your window, you smiled to yourself.

"Y/N?" You could only faintly hear him calling from the street, but you started up from your bed and yanked the window open fully so that you could hang out of it.

There he was, Coriolanus Snow, in all of his glory. Blonde curls full of white snowflakes, wrapped in what seemed to be a ratty fur coat, chittering away. You laughed when you saw him. "Coryo, what are you doing out? You'll freeze to death!"

"Wanted to come and make sure you were okay." He called back, and then looked around warily, almost as though he was checking the coast was clear before asking, "Can I come up?"

You nodded, "I'll buzz you in." And then you swiftly closed the window. Goosebumps had raised on your arms and chest and you'd be paying for the next year if you had to put the furnace on.

You crossed to your bedroom door, made your way down the hall, and pressed the buzzer, which always made the most abhorrent sound when it let whoever was outside, in.

You waited by the door, and soon enough, Coryo was coming bounding up the stairs, fur coat now in his hand, nose and cheeks bright red. You let him in and laughed as you took his coat from him and hung it up. "It's Tigris'. I don't have anything warm enough, but it's the rattiest old thing I've ever seen."

"It's quite something." You turned back to see him shivering, arms folded around his body to try to warm himself. "Oh, you poor lamb."

Your Covey accent had never faded. The Capitol had always looked down upon you for it, but Coryo blushed every time you spoke. "I'm fine, I'll be fine."

"But it's freezing in here, too. Come here." You opened the small cupboard in the hallway, which held a few random seasonal items, and pulled out two, old blankets. You smiled at Coriolanus as you draped one around his shoulders, and he smiled back, close enough to you that his breath was hitting your cheek.

"Thank you, honey." Coriolanus' eyes scanned your apartment, peering through the living room door and then your bedroom door, and he frowned when he saw just one Christmas decoration - your tiny little tree. His family was poor, but Tigris was creative, and they still managed to uphold some joy in the form of tinsel and stockings at Christmas time.

"What?" Your face dropped and you looked worried, placing a tender hand on Coryo's blanket-clad shoulder. "You look so sad."

"You just..." Coryo's voice trailed off, unsure of how to say what he meant without hurting, or offending you. "I mean, you don't have too much, do you?"

"Well, I thought you knew that." A crease had appeared between your brows and you sounded upset with him, dropping your hand from where it had previously sat. Coryo corrected himself quickly, shaking his head at you.

"No, I'm sorry, that came out wrong." He racked his brain for something to say that would make you feel better. The look on your face made his chest sting. "I don't know, would you want to spend Christmas with us?"

You cocked your head to the side, looking at him as though he was going insane. Maybe he was, he wasn't even sure what he was saying. He closed his eyes and ran and hand over his face, which brightened you up a bit. You laughed, and he laughed, and he felt his shoulders relax. Why was he so nervous? He never got nervous, not like this, anyway.

"We don't have much either, but it'd mean you weren't alone. I know how you feel, especially at this time of year." Coryo noticed the slight tinge of pink that had dawned your cheeks, and, on a whim, he reached out and, with two freezing fingers, tilted your head back so that you were looking at him. "You could come to our house, Tigris makes bread pudding, and we managed to get some beef mince this year, too. Maybe you could even sleep over tonight, and we could wake up together-"

"Coryo, you're rambling." You stopped him, you knew he could go on for hours, and, although the offer was tempting, and you enjoyed the idea of spending even more time around Coryo, you planned on turning him down. "Thank you. That sounds lovely, but I'd never want to intrude. No, the Covey wrote me to let me know they've installed a telephone in the town hall, I can call them for a couple minutes tomorrow, lift my spirits. I'll be fine."

You waved him off, and pulled your mother's old silk robe tighter around your body. You started towards the living room door, expecting Coryo to follow, maybe you'd sit together on the flaky sofa and talk for a few hours, but he didn't let you get far. He snatched your hand from your side, and when you turned to look at him, his blue eyes were filled with concern.

"Call them from our house." He wasn't going to let you off without a yes. "Please. I can't leave you alone, that's not fair. Plus, I've always wanted to meet them, haven't I?"

You took a breath and adjusted your hand in his. It felt nice, to have him be so affectionate. You could admit you were closer than most friends, the line between friendship and love always slightly blurred and maybe crossed over on more than one occasion, but it always felt good to have him near.

After careful consideration, and a few reassuring rubs at the back of your hand from Coryo, you finally gave in. "Are you sure? I don't mean to be a pain-"

"You're not. You could never be." He stepped closer and took your other hand, close enough to you that, if he leaned forward, your foreheads would be touching. "Honest, Tigris will be happy to have someone other than Grandma'am."

"And what about Grandma'am? I'm District, I don't think she'll like that-"

"She respects your family. It's not the right way, I know, but there are very few district people she doesn't mind. She knew your parents, always says they were very respectable people." A grimace crossed Coryo’s face, talking about his Grandma’am’s views in front of you. He’d agreed with her for most of his life, but that was until he met you, and that Covey accent finally made snow melt and changed his mind.

"Really?" Your face had lit up. The idea of anyone from the Capitol accepting you, no, respecting you, was something you’d only ever dreamt of.

"Really." Coryo smiled, now, and then he joked, “What an honour, huh? To have Grandma'am like you."

"An honour, indeed." You laughed. You let go of one of his hands, but kept hold of the other. You started to drag him with you towards your bedroom, but Coryo stayed put, confused. He’d never been inside your bedroom, he assumed it was off limits. You laughed at him, “I’m not trying to get you into bed, darlin’, if I was you’d know about it.”

His face turned a deep shade of red and you approached him and placed a gentle hand on his cheek. “Coryo, I’m messin’. I’m just going to pack a bag, you can come if you like, but if I’m making you uncomfortable you’re welcome to sit in the living room.”

“No. Oh, no. You’re not making me uncomfortable.” Coryo let you lead him to your bedroom, now, and he looked around the almost bare room as though it was a place of worship. There was hardly anything in there, a mattress on the floor, a small, oil lamp positioned next to it. A couple of books, a wardrobe which held your school uniform and your mother’s old performance dresses, which you wore every day you could. He was just happy to be somewhere so intimate, somewhere you allowed only the closest people in your life. “Sorry.”

You got that cheeky look on your face, now. The one that Coryo loved so much. “It’s okay. I know you’re a virgin, anyway-”

“Hey!” He smacked you with the blanket and you giggled and smacked him back. “That’s none of your business.”

“Oh, but it’s obvious.”

The walk to Coriolanus’ apartment wasn’t long, but it felt different. You’d never made it obvious that you were close, before, but you walked together, through the snow, chatting away like you’d been best friends for years - which was the case, and now people knew. Even when you passed classmates or their families, you’d both smile and wave, and it felt good to know that people would know.

“Are you excited to meet Grandma’am?” Coryo joked. Your cheeks balled when you laughed and gripped onto his hand in an overdramatic way. Coryo thought his heart might’ve burst.

You bounded forward, still holding his hand, and walked backwards in front of him. “Oh, the most excited. I’m sure she’s got great gossip.”

“Only the best. Did you know she had a fling with the President’s brother when they were in school?” Coryo whispered dramatically, and you gave him an equally as theatrical gasp.

“I hope she’ll tell me all about it.”

You arrived at the apartment cold but happy, noses bright red but laughing. Fingers freezing but locked together. You felt pure joy for the first time in a long time, and Coryo decided he could get used to this.

When Tigris opened the door, you knew this was the right decision. Her face lit up, and she clapped her hands together excitedly as soon as she saw you. She didn’t even bother to greet Coriolanus, just started straight for you, “Oh my! It’s so lovely to see you. Please tell me you’re staying for Christmas!”

“I sure am. Coryo managed to convince me.” You looked up to the boy stood beside you, who’d already been smiling down at you with such love in his eyes.

“Well, we are so happy to have you. Lucky to have you.” Tigris squeezed your shoulder and then stepped to the side, gesturing to both of you. “Come in, please.”

You could’ve sobbed, the feeling of being wanted, not being alone. Coryo touched a comforting hand to your arm as you stepped into the foyer, once grand, but now cracked and tired. Tigris took your coat, and the Grandma’am greeted you with open arms.

“Your dress is beautiful.” Tigris commented, and you did a quick twirl to show off the lace-up detail in the back.

“Thank you, it was my mama’s. I try to wear her dresses whenever I can.” You smoothed the ruffles of your dress, looking down lovingly at the shades of green tulle, handmade by your mother herself.

“And so you should.” Tigris reached out to touch your ruffles, too, and she smiled at you as she did so. “She had great taste.”

Coryo led you through to his bedroom, to let you drop your bag off and familiarise yourself with the place. “Thank you.” You muttered as you placed your bag on his windowsill. “For letting me come here, letting me stay. Your family are just beautiful.”

“Yeah, they’re great.” Coryo stood from his bed to join you as you looked out of his window onto the snow covered Corso, at a fresh snow angel and a family you could hear laughing from the penthouse. “I’m sure the Covey are, too. And your parents.”

“My parents were. And the Covey are. I hope one day, you can meet them.” You turned to him, that crease in your brow back.

“I’d love to.” Coryo took hold of your hand, noticing that you’d taken up an unsettled look. “Should we get some air? Grandma’am keeps roses on the roof, might be nice to see them in the snow.”

You nodded. “Yeah. That’d be nice.”

The roof was nice, you could see the entirety of the Capitol from up there - roofs engulfed in white, and the snow-covered roses were such a beautiful sight. You plucked one of the stems, after Coryo said you could, and simply stared at the thing. Back home, flowers were everywhere, they felt like warm hugs, like trips to the lake, like your mama. It was rare that you saw them growing in the Capitol.

“It’s beautiful up here.” You commented as you took a seat at the edge of the rooftop. “You can see the whole city.”

“It is beautiful.” Coryo sat next to you, shoulders touching, pinky fingers travelling closer to eachother and then pulling back, looking forward but watching eachother out of the corner of your eyes. “You’re beautiful.”

Coryo had let it slip, and he took in a deep breath and held it for a while after speaking. You tried not to let your smile get too wide, worried it would border on psychotic-looking if you let it reach it’s full potential. Beautiful, Coriolanus Snow called you beautiful.

“Oh.” Was all you could say, quietly, only loud enough to be picked up by the soft breeze and carried over to Coriolanus. “Thank you, Coryo. I think you’re beautiful.”

Coriolanus looked down and laughed, shaking his head at you. You let your pinkies intertwine, now. “You’re just saying that because I said it.”

“I mean it. Anyone would be stupid not to think it.” Then all of your fingers were locked together. And you sighed and let your head fall onto Coryo’s shoulder. He smiled to himself, and then, in a quick surge of confidence, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head and decided to speak his mind.

“You know I love you, right?" He blurted out. He didn’t regret it, but he was nervous, now. If he’d learned anything this Christmas Eve, it was that you made him nervous.

"I know." You closed your eyes and breathed in the cold air, “I love you, too."

"But I mean, really love you." Coryo took his hand from yours and, instead, draped his arm around your back, fingers reaching up to fidget with your hair. “You're very easy to fall in love with."

"Hm." You hummed and removed your head from his shoulder to look up at him. Your cheeks were flushed and your breath made little clouds in between your two faces. “I think you're very easy to fall in love with, too, Coryo."

You were so close, noses touching, Coryo’s hand still twirling one lock of your hair around and around. And then your lips were on his, his hand gripping the back of your neck, kissing you with a hunger, a passion, you’d never felt before. Not feverishly, not sexual in nature, just real, raw passion. You’d meant what you said. Coriolanus Snow was incredibly easy to love, and you did. You loved him. And he loved you. Nothing else had ever seemed to simple in your entire life.

Coryo couldn’t imagine a world, now, where your lips hadn’t been on his. Where you hadn’t called him beautiful. He was on a high, an all time high, he was convinced. Snow lands on top.

The snowflakes continued falling, landing on your heads, noses, the roses. And you let them, with no resentment, no upset. Because Coryo was there, everything was easy, now.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coryo x reader #coryo snow x reader #coryo snow #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow #the hunger games ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus snow x covey!reader

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starrayblogs · 5 months

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Not So Rock-Hearted || Floyd (Trolls) x Reader

a/n: MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE! or happy holidays~ i hope you all had a wonderful day, and i hope this new chapter is a fun read! likes/reblogs are appreciated, and asks are welcomed c:

tags: @brights-place

✩ previous chapter

v. Keep on Watching

It’s the day of the Secret Holiday Gift Swap.

And you’re panicking.

“Barb!” You barge into the longue room and watch as the mentioned troll shouts, jumps, and drops her invitation.

“What the- I know I told you you’re welcome anytime, but you can knock-” She tuts when she recognizes that it’s you, bending to pick up her card again.

“I got him!” You pop up in front of her, grabbing her by the shoulders and stopping her from picking up her card again.

“Who’s ‘him’?” Barb raises a brow, leaning her head away and tucking her chin to further emphasize her confusion.

You let her go with furrowed brows and a dreaded look in your eyes. “I got Floyd!” You say, out of breath, like you’ve just sang your heart out.

“Wait, what’s wrong with that?” Barb places a hand on her hip, finally having the opportunity to pick up her invitation.

“Uh- what isn’t wrong with that?” You extend your arms and shake your head in quick, short motions. “I’m already having a hard time confronting my feelings for him, now I have to think about him even more!” You exclaim, letting your weight fall on your butt and your back against the couch.

Barb laughs, taking her seat next to you with her knee up. “Man, I would have never assumed you’d be a softie underneath all that edge. Then again, that’s any of us actually…” She trails off a bit before letting out an amused sigh, turning her head to you. “Seriously though, don’t complicate things too much.” She shrugs.

“Easy for you to say, who did you get?” You cock your head in her direction, watching her open her card.

“I got…” You hum, watching her pull out the name. “Aww, cool, I got Riff! I totally know what to get ‘im.” She smirks confidently, tucking the piece of paper back in the pocket of the card.

“Good for you,” you quip quickly before catching her attention. “But what do I get Floyd?” You ask worriedly.

“Uhh… Well, what do you think he’s like?” Barb asks. You look ahead of you, thinking back to him.

“He’s… kind. Very kind, it’s like his whole charm. He’s sweet too, like cotton candy. And he’s reeeaaally cool, I mean come on! The hair was one thing, but spending the weekend with him… When he sang, I immediately got hooked on his voice.” You inhale deeply. “It’s gentle. Like the way he speaks to me, it’s like he cares about me…”

“Maybe because he does.”

You swiftly turn your head to Barb with a deadpan look, who raises her hands up in defense before motioning for you to go on.

“Ugh, he’s just! So…!” You plop your head down on the couch behind you, reaching for a pillow behind you and plopping it on your face.

“So… from all that, what do you think is the best gift for him?” She asks again, but you sigh. You remove the pillow from your face and glance at her. “Hey, you’ve got three days to think about it. I’m sure you’ll come up with something…” She reassures you, patting your shoulder.

And you did, but you weren’t confident with it.

You clear the cough in your throat as you hop off your bike, adjusting your guitar strap. You look ahead to Pop Village, seeing all the other trolls and their gifts. “What if you just handed the gift to Floyd and told him I got sick?” You rapped to Barb, holding your gift nervously.

“Dude.” She looks at you with a ‘seriously?’ face. “No. Poppy always said, it’s the thought that counts when it comes to gifts.” She pokes a finger to your chest. “And every rock troll knows how much you thought about this gift.”

Your cheeks warm up a little, and you let out a long sigh. “You’re right, you’re right.” You hop a bit on your feet, telling yourself to relax a bit. You look at the colorful light bulbs hanging across the entire village, lighting up the night, and smile a little.

“Come on, the gift swap’s about to start.” Barb starts walking with her gift in hand, and you follow her to a big stage where Poppy and Branch stand atop it.

“Welcome to our second Trolls Kingdom Secret Holiday Gift Swap! I’m so glad to have you all here again, and with some new faces this time.” Poppy grins, pointing in the crowd and having a light shine down on the pointed area. You see that it’s Viva, her Putt Putt Trolls (which she told you about), and Brozone all condensed in one area.

The crowd welcomes them with a cheer, but you find your eyes on that pink-haired troll. You chuckle when you notice the piercing in his ear turned into a snowflake to match the holiday. You turn away and look at his gift in your hands, frowning a bit. You look up when Barb speaks.

“You’ve got this.” Her hand moves to pat the place where your heart would be. “Time to let someone new in this, ya know?” She chuckles and you do the same, following it with a whiney ‘yuck’.

“That’s the sappiest thing you’ve ever said.” You comment, and she shivers.

“Yeah, I think Poppy’s rubbing off on me.” Barb shakes her hair as if there was dirt on her. “But, you know what I mean.” She smirks, nudging your shoulder.

“Now, who’s ready to gift-swap!?” Poppy announces and fireworks shoot up into the sky. “Reveal your secret troll!” She hypes, and the crowd starts moving to find the person they got (who was scrapbooked on the invitation, conveniently).

Barb waves you goodbye to find Riff, which you return until she’s eventually lost in the crowd. You look to where Floyd was previously, but can’t get a glimpse of him from everyone running around. You frown, beginning to aimlessly walk around the crowd to find him until someone lifts you up in a hug.

“Amiga!” You let out a sigh of relief when you realize it’s Viva. When you’re let down, you turn around and return a quick hug.

“Happy holidays, Veev!” You greet and she giggles, still holding her gift. “Who’s the special troll?”

“Barb! The one you always hang out with, have you seen her?” She tilts her head, pursing her lips.

“Got separated, but I hope you find her. I don’t think you’d miss that bright red mohawk anytime.” You snicker to yourself. “I like your clothes.” You comment on her white leotard with red trimmings and her matching red-and-white striped leg warmers.

“Aww, thank you, you too-” she’s cut off with a gasp when she does a double take on your hair. “Did you..?”

“Yeah…” You run a hand through your hair nervously. “Does it look fine?”

“Fine? Fine doesn’t even cut it, you look amazing!” Viva squeals, looking up at your newly two-toned hair. “Guess I don’t have to guess who you got, hm?” She smirks, raising her brows teasingly.

“Yeah…” You smirk eases into a smile. “Have you seen him?”

“Oh, I got separated from him too…” Viva frowns, which causes you to do the same. “But, I have no doubt you’ll find him!” She recovers, jumping on her toes excitedly. “I have a hunch that this holiday is gonna end up so well~” She sings.

“Can’t hide it from you either?” You raise a brow, tilting your head embarrassingly.

“I’m your childhood best friend, what is it you can hide from me?” Viva smirks, punching you in the shoulder. “I was the one who came up with the idea to put you two together for the morning last weekend.” Your jaw drops, pointing a finger at her.

“That was your doing?” She giggles and winks, turning her back to you and running off with a jolly ‘see ya!’. “Viva, we’re talking about this later!” You yell into the crowd, hoping she hears that.

Your cheeks flush again as you grumble your way to Branch’s bunker, hoping to wait for the crowd to die down and you’d eventually spot Floyd. You hold his gift gently in your hands, maneuvering through the others who are either still finding their troll or are celebrating with their gifts already.

Once you make it out of the cramped area, you walk slowly to the bunker. You kept your eyes on your gift, overthinking if it was good enough to give to him. Then you hear your name.

You hear your name in his voice.

You turn around and see him emerging from the crowd, holding his gift. “Floyd.” You say, out of breath. Your eyes flutter as you watch him walk closer to you. Both of you are now far away from the noise, just the two of you right outside Branch’s house. Just like how you arrived.

He opens his mouth, but then he notices how you look tonight. You’re still dressed in your usual fashion, but for colder weather. Then his eyes met your hair.

“Oh…” His cheeks darken slightly as he sees what you’ve done to your hair. Instead of the highlight in your hair being your favorite color, you dyed it white in the meantime. Your hair matched his. “Your hair…”

“Yeah… I figured I could rock the look, ya know?” You chuckle, trying to keep up your cool image. When he doesn’t laugh with you, your brows furrow, and you frown as you try to meet his eyes. “Do you… not like it?”

“You look great.” He meets your eyes with a wide smile, and, for the first time, you see both of his eyes. “I like that we’re matching.” He follows up with a soft chuckle.

He’s beautiful.

Your frown slowly lifts into a smile as you laugh softly. “Now we’re both cotton candy.” You joke, and he laughs with you this time. There’s a small pause between you two after it dies until he speaks up.

“I’ve been looking for you.” He smiles at you. Your cheeks warm up again, and your shoulders straighten.

“You were?” You repeat, and he nods. He holds out the gift in his hands toward you. Your eyes widen, and you nearly drop your gift for him in shock. “You got me..?” You look back up at him in disbelief.

“Happy holidays.” He simply says with that stupidly charming smile of his. “I hope you like what I got you.” He nudges the box into your hands, and you reluctantly take it after propping his gift against the wall.

“If it’s from you, Cotton Candy, I’ll enjoy it.” You chuckle. There’s truth in your words, but you were still putting up walls. You unwrap it and reveal a box. You lift up the top and mutter a soft ‘no way’, tossing the cover to the ground.

Inside was a guitar strap. You gently take it out and set the box on the ground, letting the strap unfurl to its full length to see its design. It’s a simple black strap, but it’s stitched with several symbols related to rock in your favorite color. You don’t notice how wide your smile has gotten, and it only gets wider when you notice the stitched shape of cotton candy on a cone.

“Do you like it?” Floyd asks, bringing your attention back to him.

“I love it.” You reply, holding it close to your chest. You take off your electric guitar carefully, detaching your old guitar strap for your new one. “I’ll wear it forever. Thank you, Cotton Candy.” You laugh softly, placing your old one in the mess of your hair and wearing your guitar again.

He smiles, watching you adjust the guitar to your back again. “So who’d you get?” He tilts his head a bit, and you inhale sharply as your smile drops.

“Oh, funny you ask,” you chuckle nervously, reaching back for his gift again. “I got… Uh, I got you.” You hold out the present to him, looking away with downturned ears and darkened cheeks. “I hope you like it.”

His eyes widen in genuine surprise. His hands slowly rise to take the gift in your hand, trying to guess what the present could be as he turns it around. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted, and I was worried the whole time, wondering if this would make you happy.” You explain, watching him carefully tear the wrapping. “Then, I figured that if you don’t like it, I would dye my hair to match yours to make you happy… If you thought I would look funny or, I don’t know.” You fiddle with your (new) guitar strap.

He stops just as he was about to open the box at your words with a furrowed gaze. “Why would I think you’d look funny?” He asks, upset.

You open your mouth to explain, but no words come out. You shrug your shoulders.

“I would never laugh at your appearance,” Floyd says, stepping closer to you. “I like how you look. I like that you thought about me enough to go as far as dying your hair.” He lets out a small laugh. “You keep getting cooler to me.”

If steam could come out of your ears, you wouldn’t be able to hide how much his words made you feel. Your chest is light again, and your heart is tugging in his direction. Your lips managed to turn into a smile. How can he keep doing that?

He returns to the gift, taking off the cover. “Woah.” He murmurs as he pulls out the gift from the box. You fiddle more with your guitar strap as you wait for more of his reaction.

You got him a rouge-colored acoustic guitar. The sides, fretboard, and soundhole were trimmed white to match. Most importantly, the fretboard was in the shape of a cotton candy swirl and colored both rouge and white. You worked on that guitar for the last two days, getting as much help as you could, but you did most of the work.

“Do you like it..? I wasn’t sure if you could play instruments, and you seemed like a guitar-type guy, so I could teach you-” You began to ramble worriedly until you were interrupted by a few notes played.

You watch him play the guitar smoothly before he stops with a smile, followed by the brightest laugh. “Thank you!” He says, his eyes turned into crescents. “It’s been a while since I’ve played. This is amazing,” he says your name and your worries fly away.

You smile sheepishly, running a hand through your hair for a moment. “I’m glad you enjoy it.”

“I love it.” He corrects you, just like you did. You share another laugh together.

You hold your gifts to each other gently. His hands are careful with the guitar, and your thumb is carefully stroking the stitched pattern of cotton candy on the guitar strap.

You’re so focused on his smile as he looks at you that you didn’t even process what he said when you saw his lips move. “What did you say?” You blink your eyes, telling yourself mentally to get it together.

“I asked if you’d like to spend the holiday together. It’s the weekend, right?” He tilts his head with a smile.

“Just the two of us?” You ask, dipping your head but keeping your eyes on him.

“If you’re only okay with it.” He quickly replies, his brows raising with his smile growing sheepish. “I was hoping we could play some songs together.” He chuckles, mostly to himself, but your head rises with a smirk.

“Is this some trap to hear me play again?” You chuckle. He hums, shrugging his shoulders innocently.

“I don’t know what makes you say that.” You laugh a bit harder, and his eyes soften.

You aren’t as scary as he thought you were the first time he saw you. He was taken aback by you’re casual compliment about his hair at the cantina, his heart thumping a bit faster from surprise. When he met you again, he thought you were cool and confident, finding himself interested in you. Then you left your guitar behind, and he took up the responsibility to take care of it until the next morning. When he saw your edgy exterior drop when he gave you back the guitar, something tugged at his heart again.

And it’s tugging at him again, telling him to find out more about you.

“Come on, I recently got my own pod. We can jam out there.” Floyd suggests, and you nod your head as your laugh dies down.

“Ohh, trying to get a VIP rock show, are you now?” You snicker.

“Stop revealing my plans.” Floyd points a finger at you, trying to contain his own laughs by turning around and leading the way.

You breathe deeply as your face settles in a grin. That felt nice. He makes you feel so nice, and you remember Barb’s words. Your grin drops to a hesitant, small smile as you watch him walk. You think for a moment, wondering if you should just take the leap and grasp that happiness right in front of you.

“Are you coming?” Floyd stops and turns around to find you still standing. You blink and fiddle with your strap again, but you make up your mind. Your smile settles softly as you begin to walk up to him.

“Yeah.”

You two walk away together, making small talk on the way to Floyd’s house. You two walk away, unaware of the crowd watching you.

“Are they gone?” One of them whispers from under the mushroom.

Branch, who reveals himself by dropping his disguise (which was a fluff ball, with the help of his hair), steps out under the mushroom and looks in the direction you two walked off in too. “Clear.”

There’s a pair of squeals as everyone’s hair disguise reveals themselves underneath the mushroom. “We should’ve put a mistletoe on top of them!”

“Woah, too early, Poppy.” Bruce raises a hand with a light chuckle.

“My little rockstar is growing up.” Barb steps away from Poppy, pouting her lip with a hand to her chest. “It’s sickeningly sweet, but aww, but also eww…” She fake gags, which receives a friendly hit on the back from Poppy.

“They’re adorableee.” Viva coos, her hands pressed to her cheeks.

“If adorable, you mean Floyd can’t even recognize his own growing feelings.” Branch rolls his eyes as he crosses his arms.

“Like you were any better.” Poppy smirks, hand on her hip.

“I agree with boytoy over there, though.” Barb raises her arms and dips her head in surrender. “It’s all cute seeing them together, but I don’t think I’m emotionally prepared to be a possible confession dummy.” She contemplates, scratching her ear.

“How long do you think until they get together?” JD tilts his head with crossed arms.

“Oh, I think they’re just like this sad romance book I read where-” Clay starts rambling about his predictions, earning the approval of Poppy and Viva, with the others weirdly agreeing with him too.

✩ next chapter

#✩ starraywrites #✩ starraywrites nsrh #✩ starraywrites not so rock hearted #✩ starraywrites trolls band together #✩ starraywrites trolls #trolls #trolls band together #trolls floyd #floyd trolls #trolls floyd x reader #floyd x reader #HAPPY HOLIDAYS!#aaaa i hope the characters were yk #IN CHARACTER #i hope they weren't too ooc #aaaaaa i want them to hug already :'3 #oh maybe i might do a floyd pov chapter

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songbirdsingingthings · 5 months

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In Love. Actually.

❀ Back to Navigation ❀

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Kohei Horikoshi

MHA Masterlist - Main Masterlist

WARNINGS: Fluff, Spoilers for the movie Love, Actually.

Request by @luluwiie: how about Y/N helping Shouto (deliberately or not) to discover Christmas magic, and for the first time enjoy some good moments during Christmas time ? As they're still only-close-friends-but-secretely-pining-on-each-other, you know *^* Cause Pining. I love pining. Secret crush FTW

A/N: Oh we're so back. Thank you so much for the request @luluwiie you are the absolute best. I'm so serious about that, you never fail to have the loveliest requests and sweetest words. Happy holidays to everyone who celebrates, and enjoy!!!

Word Count: 1.8K

There seemed to be some kind of energy in the air – one that seemed to have wired every single one of Shouto Todoroki’s classmates into becoming a strangely more happy version of themselves. That was, of course, not to say that his classmates weren’t usually happy, they absolutely were, but during this time of year it was next level.

Taking in the scene before him, all he could really do was people-watch. Iida, if one could believe, was almost relaxed – leaning back in one of the chairs in the dorm living room and reading a book with a calm smile. A group of some of the girls, including Yaoyorozu, Jirou, and Uraraka, were trying their best to construct gingerbread houses. Even with the extra bags of icing Yaoyorozu created with her quirk, the walls kept falling down. But, even with each collapse of the houses, the girls just smiled, shook their heads, and tried again. Even Bakugou, against all odds, almost had a twitch of a genuine smile on his face as he bounced around the kitchen baking cookies, marinating several dishes for the night’s dinner, and prepping produce for the following morning.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out why. It was what many, if not most, called the most wonderful time of the year. Christmas. Well, to be more specific, Christmas Eve.

“You plan on joining in?” A soft voice sounded next to him. He smiled a bit and turned towards it.

“I’m not so sure.”

“Why’s that?”

“Christmas was never a particularly happy time for me.” Shouto wished he hadn’t really said it like that, because when he did, he had to watch your smile dim. His closest friend since the beginning, the first one he made, was you. You, with your pretty Y/E/C eyes and

“Ah.” You say. “I understand.”

“That’s not to say that you shouldn’t enjoy it. I’m just more at ease looking at all of this from afar.”

“Nah, it’s no fun if not everyone’s having fun. Especially if you, my closest friend, isn’t.” Shouto watch you brush a stray cookie crumb from the alpine sweater you were wearing.

“Baking cookies with Bakugou?” He asked. You snorted and bumped his hip with your own.

“More like stealing away with some of them. He makes a mean snickerdoodle.” Shouto hummed and turned back to his classmates, watching them make merry. He never felt so out of place.

“I may just head back to my dorm, catch up on some things.”

“We’re on break from school, Shouto.” You deadpan. “C’mon. Let’s do something else.”

“I don’t want to pull you away from anything,” he begins.

“You’re not pulling me away. In fact, I think I have a more fun idea in mind. Let’s go back to mine.”

“Just to recap,” Shouto says, sitting criss-crossed on your bead, “you want to checklist your way to making new holiday memories? So that I can enjoy Christmas?”

“Exactly!” You say, pointing towards him with the aforementioned list. “I’m telling you, I think you’ll find at least one of these things fun.” Shouto considered the list before him for a moment. Things like ice-skating, movie marathons, and gift shopping were all included.

“And you’ll do these things with me?” He asked, confirming that he wouldn’t be facing such activities by himself.

“Of course.”

“Then I’m sure everything will be fun.” It almost looked like a flicker of a blush danced on your cheeks, but he must have just been seeing things.

“Alright. Where do you want to start?”

“Well,” he considered, looking outside of his window. The sun had already set and a fair amount of snow was piling up on the ground outside, “seeing as many of our options involve going into the city, which isn’t entirely safe right now, we should probably settle on something a bit more tame.” You jumped to sit next to him on your bed, your hands going to the windowsill.

“Damn,” you say, shooting him a somewhat embarrassed look. Shouto couldn’t help but smile. He loved whenever you had that look on your face. Your nose scrunched a bit and your hands went to your cheeks.

“I’m happy with a movie,” he suggests, taking one of your hands from your cheeks. You pause for a moment, waiting for your breathing to get even after his actions, and then settle in.

“Well, it’s gotta be the perfect movie.” You think, grabbing your computer while Shouto unfurled the blanket at the bottom of your bed. “Nothing too cheesy but nothing too sad. So, probably, no Elf or It’s A Wonderful Life. Although It’s A Wonderful Life is so good.”

“Why don’t we watch it then?”

“It makes me cry. Kinda counterintuitive to me helping you make happy Christmas memories. But we’ll put it on the ‘to watch’ list.”

“And Elf is cheesy?”

“Kinda,” you admit, staring at the blinking line in your search bar. “Although it’s funny.”

“So you want something funny… and heartfelt… and something that helps with the idea of Christmas?”

“That’s it!” You exclaim, your fingers flying across the keys. You pull up a movie and sit back in your pillows with a satisfied smile, waiting for Shouto’s reaction.

“Love Actually?” He says, looking closely at the movie cover. “It doesn’t really sound like a Christmas movie.

“Trust me,” you say, putting a hand on his shoulder, “it is. The best.”

“I always trust you,” he says, giving you another one of those heart bursting smiles. The kind, it seems, he saved only for you. But of course, it was probably you making it up. He was your friend, as you had stated before, your closest friend. You did not want anything to mess that up, even if you had to keep some of your feelings under lock.

“Well then,” you clear your throat, “get ready for Christmas wonder.”

As the finishing notes of God Only Knows by the Beach Boys played from the tiny speakers in your computer, you sighed happily and closed your laptop. You turned to find Shouto, searching his face for any kind of reaction.

“So, thoughts?”

“That was…” he trails off. Immediately, a sense of disappointment in yourself bloomed.

“Oh god, you didn’t like it all did you?” You fret. “It was probably too much, I’m sorry, I should’ve found something else–”

“Y/N.” Shouto says, interrupting your rambling.

“Yeah?”

“I loved it.” Where panic took hold previously, excitement sparkled in your eyes.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, some parts were certainly… interesting,” he says, making you laugh, “but I thought it was really nice. But,”

“Uh-oh,”

“I don’t really understand the whole message in terms of Christmas.”

“Huh?”

“Well,” he says, shifting a bit on your bed to face you more, “I understand that it all takes place during Christmas, but it mostly centered on relationships. Both good and bad. I still can’t believe he cheated on his wife with that girl though. And she forgave him? Just like that?” You laughed and leaned into him

“Well, I don’t think that’s the whole story. And they have kids, so she was putting them first. But, more importantly, it conveys the main message of Christmas.” You say to a dumbfounded Shouto.

“And what’s that?”

“Love, of course. In every situation, love is what remains constant. For a friend, for a family member, for their significant other… love is what Christmas is all about.” Shouto felt his heart speed up as he looked at you.

“I think I may be starting to get it.” Your breathing became short as he looked at you. It was quiet, so quiet, in your dorm room.

“You are?” You whisper.

“Yeah,” he says, bringing his hands to cup your face. You were moments from closing your eyes until someone banged on your door.

“Y/N! Todoroki! You in there?” You squeezed your eyes shut and sighed.

“Yep! What’s up Mina?” Shouto smiles as your frustration becomes evident on your face.

“We’re all gathering in the common room! One last activity before we all go to bed and wake up for Christmas morning!” You glance at Shouto to see him grinning, which makes you roll your eyes in amusement.

“Okay, we’re coming!” Shouto shuffles off of the bed first, helping you to your feet as well. The two of you leave your dorm and make your way down the hallway, only to stop in the doorway as you find all of your classmates face you with smug smiles.

“Is everything okay?” Shouto asks.

“Yeah guys, what’s up with the crowd?”

“Look up!” Uraraka smiles, pointing with one of her hands to whatever was above you. A cold sense of dread courses its way through your body as what you were worried about was confirmed. A seemingly harmless sprig of mistletoe was hung delicately on above the doorway, sitting just above you and Shouto. All of your classmates laugh as they see your face, making Shouto’s twist in confusion.

“Mistletoe?”

“Yeah,” you confirm sheepishly. “It’s this Christmas tradition where two people have to kiss if they walk underneath mistletoe at the same time. We don’t have to do it. It’s stupid, really.”

“On the contrary,” Shouto says, sweeping an arm around the small of your back, making your heart jump in your chest. “I actually kind of like Christmas traditions.” Your anxious smile turns into a wide grin.

“Really?”

“Mmm.” he hums in affirmation, using his other hand to tilt your head up towards him. “In fact, I think I love Christmas traditions.” You didn’t have time to come up with a cheeky response before he pressed his lips to yours. The whoops and cheers from your classmates faded to become background music. You couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, wrapping both of your arms around the nape of his neck. You went up on your tiptoes, leaning further into him and deepening the kiss. The both of you leaned away after a few moments, laughing as the class descended into pure chaos as several other duos, including Kaminari and Jirou as well as Midoriya and Uraraka, were being pushed towards the white-berried plant. Shouto led you back down the hallway to your room's door, pressing another kiss to your lips.

“Merry Christmas, Shouto.” You smile. Opening the door as you bid him goodnight.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.” He says. He leaves you with one more quick kiss before he says goodnight. All you could do after you closed the door was slide down it, a lovesick smile on your face. You were in love and so was he. Actually.

Taglist:

@luluwiie ~ All-Flora Florist

@maiacroson ~ All-Flora Florist

@nerdypuppytimemachine ~ All-Flora Florist

@softvanlla All-Flora Florist

@catguinsstuff ~ All-Flora Florist

@smallxbunny ~ All-Flora Florist

@the-emo-asgardian ~ Snowbell Florist

@lovers-liability ~ Snowbell Florist

@palenightmarepersona ~ All-Flora Florist, All-Tree Arborist

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brokentrafficknight · 5 months

Text

Season's Greetings

Merry Christmas and happy holidays everyone c:

#rwby #ruby rose #jaune arc #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #weiss schnee

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the-angeleno · 5 months

Note

gekko x female reader where like basically finds her super attractive and is nervous to talk to her so reader starts to think he doesn’t like her since hes so social w the other agents I hope that kinda makes sense?? Also hes so bbg<33

FIRST IMPRESSIONS! gekko x f!reader ✴ fluff!! no warnings!

[note!!] ↳ i apologize for taking so long with requests, i was just overwhelmed and flooded with so many and then uni got super chaotic but we made it! merry christmas / happy holidays!

mateo’s introduction to the protocol went as smooth as being introduced to by reyna could go. he’s not sure exactly what she said to get him in, as it seemed to be pretty exclusive and he’s not entirely sure if he has the professionalism they were looking for.

he doesn’t, but they don’t seem to mind. well, brimstone has complained here and there about how difficult the boy was to reach, he never answered his phone or replied to his texts but the motherfucker was always on tiktok whenever the protocol held meetings.

he got away with a lot by practically being reyna’s little brother, everyone was too scared to do anything to reprimand the boy. other than viper of course, nothing scared that woman it seemed.

being one of the younger agents, and the newest, left him anxious, but as time went on, he’s gotten his own seat at the table. he knew what the first day jitters felt like, how everything was intimidating, and he had already known reyna prior and she still kind of scares him so he can’t imagine how intimidating the woman would be to you.

brim asked beforehand if anyone wanted to step up and show you the ropes, before gekko even had the chance to volunteer, almost every head in the room turned to him anyway.

“i’d be honored.” he bowed dramatically, turning to harbor, “i’ll make you proud coach!”

he didn’t. not because he was a bad coach necessarily, he just couldn’t get a proper sentence out without bumbling like a fool.

the new agent was really pretty, and mateo’s had crushes before in the past but nothing like this, where the moment he looked at her he felt the carpet pull out from under him.

nobody else seemed affected by your beauty, even chamber seemed too occupied with his work to ogle at you. the knowing looks from jett and phoenix only made him more flustered as he knew his attraction to you was written all over his face.

neon and raze were stifling laughter, watching his sad attempt at demonstrating how to defuse a spike.

“s-so yeah um .. after y’know c-clearing corners and stuff you uh… um usually brim will c-comm? yeah he’ll comm us uh let us know the game plan.” he clears his throat, looking down at his hands and shaking his head in an attempt to clear out his thoughts.

you watched him with such a kind expression on your face, it was almost a little infuriating how good you were at maintaining eye contact with him, mateo feels like he might die of heatstroke with how hot his face has become.

you notice how nervous he is and hesitantly reach for him, placing your hand on his shoulder.

“hey i know we just met and all, but i promise i'm not gonna kill you…” an awkward laugh accompanied your words, and you couldn’t hide some of the hurt in your voice. why was he so terrified of you? “i’m not! scared of you or anything-“

“did i do something that made you uncomfortable?”

“no! nothing like that you’re just uh..” he looks around the room, relieved when he sees the others seemed to have moved on from watching his horrible teaching skills.

he glances at his critters, dizzy curled up as always in slumber, wingman on the couch waving his arms excitedly in support of his train of thoughts.

he breathes deeply, before finally meeting eyes with you.

“you’re just really pretty.” he says, without stuttering, or losing eye contact, and the intensity of it all leaves a red hot flush to climb up your neck and up to your cheeks.

“o-oh.” you stutter, mind going a mile a minute because what the fuck do you even say to that? you just met him, but you can’t deny how attractive he is too. you bite back a smile and look down in embarrassment.

“thank you… that’s sweet of you to say.”

“yeah but i just made things weird.”

“no you didn’t, things don’t have to be weird if we don’t make it weird.” you reassure, nudging his shoulder.

“now you said something about brim giving comms, do we wait for an OK before defusing or should we defuse as soon as we reach the site?”

he was grateful for the change in topic, and with that finally off his chest he was able to finally get his wavering voice back under control.

“yeah so he’ll comm with the OK; if everything is clear and it’s safe to defuse then go for it and regroup before evacuating.”

your first mission goes surprisingly well, gekko at your side through the whole thing, watching your back with every corner you turned and alerting you of enemies you missed before taking care of them himself.

he was the perfect partner anyone could ask for really, so when the other agents were hyping you up for your performance you couldn’t help but redirect the praise to mateo.

every mission went on like that, a success, the two of you made an incredible team. it wasn’t until six months later, on one of the biggest missions you’ve yet to go on, that you really showed the other agents in the protocol just how much you’ve grown.

“that quick scope was insane even reyna was impressed!” phoenix says over the sound of his comrades whooping and cheering you on.

“who knew our new agent would be our new little prodigy?” jett cooed, pinching at your cheeks. you swat her hand away, laughing at her teasing.

“nah it was all gekko and really i wouldn’t have gotten off that shot without dizzy and the spike wouldn’t have been defused without wingman. i just have the best coach, right ‘teo?” you turn to look at him and he grins, throwing an arm over your shoulder and pulling you into a side hug.

“of course hermosa, with me showing you the ropes you’ll kick everyone’s ass, radiant or not.”

his little compliment left you flustered, quick to hide your face into his neck, before feeling the vibrations of his laughter rumbling against his chest. he tilts his head down to peek at you,

“why’re you hidin’ chica?” he smirks knowingly, you were always so easy to fluster, it was incredibly endearing.

he pouts his lips out in a kissy face, laughing when you groan and roll your eyes at him.

the other agents watch silently as the two of you, almost in your own world, tease and bicker with each other back and forth, mateo’s arms still wrapped around your waist.

“i dunno why i let you take all the glory for our missions, i’m gonna stop being humble-“

“you? humble? chalè chica have you met yourself?” his words are all bark no bite, if the grin on his face was any indication.

you stuck your tongue out at him, and he sticks his right back, blowing a raspberry in your face and laughing when you yell and swat at him for spitting on you.

jett and neon share a knowing look, they bet on how long it’d take for the two of you to get together, and neon couldn’t hide the smirk on her face.

“not too late to forfeit~”

“no way, they’ve been dancing around each other like this for months im telling you they’re both too dumb to do anything for at least another two months-“

“yea like how it took you and phoenix two years to finally confess to each other?” she teased before quickly ducking the fist jett sent her way.

“wish someone would look at me like that.” chamber mutters, glancing over at viper who whistles absently, busying herself with some papers on her desk that suddenly need to be reorganized.

“can you let me go now?” you whined at him, giving him your most promising pout, he tilted his head in faux consideration, before shrugging,

“nah. don’t want to.”

“so you’re just gonna hold me hostage here?”

“don’t act like you don’t love it.”

“i don’t, you spat on me.”

“okay and you drooled on me on the way back to base-“

“shut up! you were the one who insisted i slept on your shoulder-“

“yeah because i didn’t wanna deal with you whining later about your neck hurting-“

“teo, let me go so i can punch you.”

“no can do, hermosa.”

“i’ll knee you in the balls.”

he pouts again, debating if he should free you from his embrace, before he gets the chance to, you lean forward on your tiptoes and plant an obnoxious smooch on his lips, prying yourself free from him when he loosens his grip in surprise.

“HA!” you laugh maniacally, running away from the boy who was already chasing you,

“oh so that’s how you’re gonna play huh?” he yells, ignoring brimstone who is shouting at the two of you to stop running around HQ.

“did you not just see what she did!” he whines like a child, glaring at neon and jett who are trying to stifle their laughter to no avail.

you run and hide behind raze and killjoy on the couch, catching your breath, you peek your head over and spot mateo,

“you’re harboring a criminal, release her.” he declares to the couple, and raze rises, holding her arms out in front of you, blocking you away from gekko.

“you gotta get through me first.” she stands firm, winking at killjoy who only rolls her eyes at the idiocy happening before her.

“can you guys take this fight back to the playground please?” she asks, turning over on the couch to look down at you. you hold your finger to your lips, a dramatic sh! the only response offered to her.

she tries to flick your forehead but you are quick to swat her hand away, earning a snort from the engineer before she turns to sit forward on the couch.

“what are her crimes even?” killjoy asks and you feel your face burning before mateo even opens his mouth.

“i was holding her hostage in a hug and she kissed me to escape-“

“oh god gross-“ raze’s arms falter.

“are you two fucking serious?” neon says in fake disgust.

“ew guys get a room-“ killjoy remarks with a loud groan.

“GROSS!” chamber shouts from across the room.

with you defenseless, mateo is quick to dive over the couch, grabbing you and throwing you over his shoulder in one fell swoop.

he ignores your shouts and demands to be put down as he carries you away to an empty meeting room, closing the door behind him with his foot before setting you down with a mischievous smirk on his face.

“look at the scene you caused, mensa. now everyone knows about your dirty little tricks.” he had you pushed up against the door, his face incredibly close to yours, and you were suddenly grateful he had carried you off like that, away from the eyes of your comrades who probably have an idea of what’s going on back here anyways.

the close proximity leaves you flustered, but the competitive side of you can’t seem to back down to mateo.

“didn’t expect you to get so worked up over a little kiss, you got a crush on me or something?” you teased, sounding more confident than you actually felt.

he leans closer, lips nearly touching yours before gliding upwards and caressing the shell of your ear.

“maybe i do, but the thing is cariño…” his lips trail down your cheek, stopping right over yours, “i think you like me too.” he breathes a laugh against you and it sets you aflame, your heart pounding incessantly in your chest.

“should i kiss you this time and find out?” his lips are centimeters away from your own, his hands that are now cupping your jaw tilt your head upwards to brush against his lips, a gasp slipping past them to which he chuckles amusedly at.

the anticipation of his touch practically eating you alive at this point, how desperate you are to feel his lips against yours again.. you swallow, biting back your pride before nodding,

“please… ‘teo-“

his lips are against yours in an instant, eager and passionate, moving with a desperation you hadn’t anticipated. you reach up to pull him closer by the neck, kissing him back with just as much passion and fervor.

he bites down on your lip, smirking against you when you whine and open up for him, he’s quick to use the opportunity to slip his tongue in to taste you properly.

sweet like saccharine, he couldn’t get enough, the feeling of your tongues intertwined has him dizzy, his brain short-circuiting.

he can’t believe he’s finally kissing you, finally tasting the lips he’s been craving since the day he first laid eyes on them.

you whine his name, muffled in between kisses as he sucks particularly hard on your tongue, leaving you breathless and desperate for air.

prying the boy off of you, you finally manage to catch your breath, panting harshly against him as he smirks at you.

“yeah you definitely like me, ‘please teo!’ he mocks and you hide your face in his neck, groaning and punching him lightly on the chest.

“you’re such an ass mateo."

[note!!] ↳ this might be ass, ngl i wrote it high on my phone at like 2am, i think the second half with all the other agents is kinda wild n messy but so is mateo so shhh. - feel free to send in more reqs!!

#gekko x reader #valorant x reader #mateo x reader #mateo armendáriz de la fuente x reader #gekko valorant x reader #valorant #gekko imagines #gekko scenarios #valorant imagines #valorant scenarios

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fatuifucker · 1 year

Text

mockingbird

[art cr: korusakku on twt]

soft dom dottore x sub frail! childhood friend! gn reader

SUMMARY = your condition has improved ever so slightly, so you ask your husband to have sex with you

WARNINGS = smut, penetration (reader receiving), protected sex (condom usage), praise, aphrodisiacs, belly bulge, use of dottore's real name, use of pet names "dear/dearest", prostitution mentioned as a joke, slight aftercare

W/C = 2.3k

A/N = dotto is softer here because I would think he would act this way to a childhood friend who has always supported him unlike everyone else :) this au was inspired my own thoughts but I did find these lovely creators who have similar aus (@/bye-bye-sunbird and @/fatuismooches) so check them out if you like dottore content like this! ty to my beta readers this time round (@child-of-plut0, @fluffyganyu, @xiaoflwrs despite your dislike for ttore) and ofc, merry christmas and have a happy holidays!

TAGS = @edenialucas, @fluffyganyu, @nejibot, @yumixxn, @teallapril

“Zandik, when can we have intercourse?”

It is an unexpected question, that’s for sure. One that catches the enigmatic doctor off-guard. “My, I didn’t expect such a vulgar request from my meek spouse.”

“It’s natural to possess carnal cravings towards one’s own husband, is it not?” you say, avoiding his inquisitive gaze. “And you said that you’ll have intercourse with me again when my condition betters.”

Through his bird-like mask, he sweeps over your frail frame, deep in thought.

“Your segments have done an excellent job in taking care of me,” you add. “The medicine, schedule, and diet you’ve prepared for me have also worked wonders in improving my condition. That is why I’m bringing it up now.”

Zandik’s chest rumbles as he lets out a short chuckle. “I must say, I’m flattered that you’ve been thinking of us in such an…intimate way these past few days. Or was my previous performance that exceptional that you’ve been yearning for my cock everyday since then?” You feel your face heat up like a burning candle. Smirking, Zandik turns his attention to a locked drawer, pulling out a key from one of his pockets. “Nonetheless, I admit that you’re not the only one with such ravenous desires.”

Your spouse places a vial in your hand; one that you recognise to be the familiar medicine curated just for you. Cursed with this incurable illness, you know that you have to stay indoors for your safety’s sake. There are days that even the slightest movement could cause a flare-up in your immune system, causing you to be bedridden with several tubes connected to your body. You know it’s for your own good, but the loneliness and longing doesn’t subside.

Ever since you were a child, you would draw scenarios that you wished to experience. Drawings of you playing with other kids, drawings of your family congratulating you for your admittance to the Academia, drawings of you and Zandik graduating together. Only one of those drawings became reality. Either way, it became a hobby for you to express yourself when you’re stuck in this mundane room while he is busy with his Fatui business.

The perceptive husband he is, he notices your longing for the outside work and conjures up a solution in the form of a drug that could alleviate your condition. Only for a few hours, but you wish you could have tackled him into a hug the first time he presented the drug to you. Unfortunately, the medicine has its side effects. Thus, it can’t be consumed regularly and has to be administered by Zandik himself; not by any of his clones.

You look up at your doctor for permission before popping off the cork and downing the liquid. There’s a carbonated burn in your throat, one that you can’t seem to get used to no matter how many times you ingest the medicine. But you do feel your strength ever-so-slowly returning to your muscles and limbs. Not that strength was ever ‘yours’ to begin with, having it snatched away from you the moment you were born.

“How are you feeling, dear?”

“I feel more energised than when I usually take it.”

“Good, good, it looks like the enhancements worked,” he hums, looking pleased as he discards the outer layers of his clothing.

It’s shameful how your core instinctively heats up in anticipation. You haven’t seen him naked in, archons, how long has it been now? The more recent occurrences were not for carnal reasons. Rather, for simple romantic intimacy. Mere skin-to-skin cuddling to make up for the lack of sexual intimacy. This is the first time in who knows how long you’re actually going to have sex with him again.

You’ve been fantasising of this day. For you to feel better, for your health to improve so you can feel him inside you again. But now that it’s happening, it feels like a miracle, an unbelievable, lifelike dream that you don’t want to wake up from.

“As today is a special occasion, we can try a little something that I’ve been saving for a day like this.” Even with his mask on, you feel Zandik’s piercing crimson eyes staring right through you, observing the quick rise and fall of your chest as he takes off his gloves with his sharp teeth. “A little potion meant to heighten stimulation, though you’ll be more accustomed to the term…aphrodisiac.”

“Oh yes pleeeease, doctor,” your words coming out in an almost moan.

Removing the bottom half of your clothing is a breeze, thanks to your airy nightwear. It’s strange that your body is always either too cold or too hot. Thankfully, your sensitivity decided to work in your favour tonight and has chosen the latter.

A shark-like grin spreads across the harbinger’s half-covered face. You wonder if it’s from arousal. Or delight that you’ve regained some life in yourself. He doesn’t make any indication to your internal query and instead pours another vial — one containing a bright pink liquid — over two of his fingers. He presses one of the lubed-up fingers against your hole, and you feel the tension around it, no thanks to your minimal experience. You remind yourself to follow Zandik’s teachings to slow down your breathing.

Your hole relaxes, and the next thing you know, you feel the finger penetrate the opening. Your body instinctively tenses up again, but the lube around his finger makes the intrusion bearable.

He didn’t want to hurt his poor, flightless bird, after all.

It didn’t take long for him to procure the first of many blissful moans out of you. The doctor plays you like one of his many laboratory instruments; his expertise in the workings of the human body coming into play as he rubs you in your most sensitive spots. You're squirming, panting as your hands cling onto your husband's shoulders, and you feel your lower half burning hotter and hotter. With little effort, the harbinger manages to draw out a second noise out of you; a mouse-like squeak that accompanied the arch of your back.

Hot air brushes against your ear, your body shuddering as he lets out a husky laugh. "It seems that the aphrodisiac is working as intended."

His lips — chapped and rosy pink from the Snezhnayan air — graze the shell of your ear, teeth delicately nibbling on the body part. He likes doing that; biting you, that is. When you were younger, you thought it would just be a temporary bad habit. A weird quirk of his destined to fade away after he grew up. Fast forward now, it seems that stabbing you with his razor-sharp teeth is just one of those things he isn’t growing out of.

Not that you mind this cute little quirk of his.

You're snapped out of your sentimental musings by the intrusion of a second finger. Thanks to the aphrodisiac, your hole is loose enough to accept it without too much give or pain on your end. The pads of his fingers rub against your sensitive walls, furling and unfurling his thick fingers that fill you up, aiming at your weak spots. His ministrations switch between scissoring and finger-blasting. It feels good, so deliciously good but–

"Zandik." A cold breeze picks up the timid, inaudible whisper of his name. "I want more."

Instead of a condescending laugh, the usual mockery that would be directed at any other person that dare voice out their opinion to the callous doctor, you feel a pair of chapped lips trailing kisses down your jawline. "Of course, my dear. Anything for you."

The weight that was pressing against your thigh eases off you, and you have to remind yourself to swallow the saliva gathering in your mouth when you notice the tent in Zandik’s pants.

Zandik puts on a show for his precious, sickly patient, peeling his belt and pants off his toned, rugged body ever-so-slowly. A wet patch darkens the front of his navy boxers, and your hole clenches watching him pull out his thick, hardened cock. He bites onto the edge of a condom wrapper, tearing it open with his teeth. He carefully puts it on himself, making sure it is thoroughly lubricated by the aphrodisiac before aligning his dick to your hole.

"Hold onto me, dearest."

You do as told, automatically tightening your grasp on his shoulders when he pushes himself in. You can already feel yourself clamping around the tip, but it isn’t enough. You’ve been anticipating this day for months. You need more. Sensing your lust, Zandik smirks to himself as he increases his speed, opting for shallow thrusts to get you used to the stretch. Despite the wintry environment, your clothes feel stifling, suffocating even, so you silently thank Zandik when he starts taking off your upper layers to peck and nib at the skin. Yet with your body exposed, it feels like every touch from his cold hands sears your skin, sending fire down to your stomach that’s scorching you from the inside out.

“Look.” You follow Zandik’s line of sight, right to where he’s resting his palm: on the sizeable bulge of his cock that protrudes your tummy. “It’s all the way in.”

“Ah…it is,” you mutter, splaying your hand on the bulge.

“Doesn’t this take you back to the first night of our honeymoon?" Zandik locks his hands with yours. In the corner of your eye, the metal band around both of your fingers catches the glister of the light, and you can’t help but smile to yourself. “I can never forget the look in your eyes when you realised how far I stretched this tight hole of yours.”

“I’m ashamed to admit that my memory has deceived me,” you giggle.

He cups the side of your face, leaning into you for a kiss. Both of your lips meld into one as you exchange saliva and body heat, wanton moans slipping in between kisses. Zandik snaps his hips forward, fucking you with the tenderness of a lover yet with that typical Dottore-like vigour. Even through the thin plastic around his cock, you feel him twitching and throbbing inside you. Big hands grab onto your thighs, thrusts becoming frenzied as balls slap against the plushness of your ass. A whimper worms its way out of your throat, the sensation of his cock moving in and out of you sending you into delirium.

The harbinger hears his given name pour out of your lips like fine wine, and Zandik growls at how sweet your voice sounds, calling out that accursed name. Funny. It seems that he, too, has forgotten the riveting melody that is your voice, strained with lust for him and only him. And oh, how it provokes the hungry beast within him. You’re the only one who can affect him in such a way. It’s you and only that can make this almighty harbinger give into mortal pleasures.

"That's it. You're doing so well, my dear,” he coos, leaving a string of kisses from your collarbone up your neck.

“Wait.” Time comes to a standstill when you place your hand on the doctor’s chest. “Take off your mask. I want to see your eyes.”

The 2nd Harbinger obeys the request, revealing crimson irises that stare into his beloved’s adoring eyes. A pair of hands cusp his cheeks, bringing him forward to look into the eyes of his dearest spouse.

“Just like garnets.”

Those hands pull him into an open-mouthed kiss. Zandik calms the flutter in his chest by shoving his tongue into your mouth, pushing the muscle against yours. Neither of you spoke for a while, enraptured in the flavour and sensation of each other. Yet, the room was anything but silent, the wet and messy sounds of skin slapping against skin deafening all meaningless noise.

“Zandik, I’m close…” you mewl.

Zandik curses under his breath, his fingertips digging into your thighs. “Good. Let it all out, my dear. Don’t you dare hold back.”

Your body spasms as it reaches its peak, walls clinging onto the cock ploughing your hole as if it doesn’t want it to leave. The sudden tightness causes Zandik to cum soon after, groaning out your name into your mouth as he ejaculates into the condom. He pulls out his dick when he feels it start to soften, taking off the condom and tying it into a knot. You lay there in silence, about to shut your eyes and catch your breath when you feel something sticky slap against your stomach.

“Wha–”

Zandik chuckles, “A few more rounds with these and I bet you would look like a seasoned whore.”

“That’s not something you should say to your spouse.” You playfully pout, making no effort to take condom off you.

As much as you are raring to go for another round, the intensity of that fucking has drained all the energy out of you. You can’t even move to kiss him again even if you want to. Shutting your eyes, you allow yourself a moment of respite as the sounds of shuffling passes by you. Peeling an eye open, you see Zandik holding out a glass of water in one hand, adjusting the angle of your body with the other. He tilts the glass to your mouth, and you slowly gulp down half of it.

“Any abnormalities?” he asks after setting the glass on the table.

You shook your head. “None. I want to go again.”

“Hmm…not yet, dear.” The Doctor couldn’t help but laugh upon seeing your expression. “Oh don’t give me that look. We have plenty of time tonight after you recover.”

You grumble, knowing that he is correct as always. Although you crave his hands to touch your sex again, your fragile body is beyond exhausted. It would take a while for you to recover and catch your breath again. But like he said, the two of you have the whole night to yourselves.

#genshin impact x reader smut #genshin x reader smut #dottore x reader smut #genshin dottore smut #dottore smut #genshin dottore x reader smut

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sammysmaddy · 5 months

Text

Normal (Winchesters x Reader) - Part Four

Summary: Growing up as the baby of the Winchester family led you to be constantly guarded. Soon enough, you start to learn what's normal between families and what's not.

Characters: John x Daughter!Reader, Dean x Sister!Reader, OFC!Shauna x Dean, OFC!Sophia x Reader

Warnings: incest, sistercest, daughtercest, girls kissing girls, angry!/drunk!john, needy!Dean, drugs, alcohol, angst, hair pulling (more like physical abuse), Daddy kink I guess, a bit of degradation, manipulation, crying, praise kink, oral

W/C: 5.9k+

A/N: Merry Christmas to my followers who celebrate! Happy Holidays to everyone and I hope to be posting more!

Normal Masterlist

Masterlist

With John recently deciding that Sam was old enough to go on larger hunts with him, that meant much more time with Dean. They were off again after John came home after a few hours because he had decided that he needed to make things right with Sam.

John had finally realized that it wasn't his or Sam's fault that Sam got hurt, but John just reacted that way because he didn't like to see any of his children busted up.

You, being stuck at home with Dean, had been eating a lot of pizza, drinking a lot of beer, and waking up in his arms every morning. Things seemed normal again, Dean acted like he hadn't done anything, and you spent many hours out of the day thinking about how to bring it up with him.

What if he didn't bring it up because it was a one-time thing and he was drunk? What if he didn't have those kinds of feelings for you? It hurt for you to think that way, but you needed to be prepared in case he didn't see you the same way that you saw him.

Plus, maybe he didn't even know what you were capable of. Maybe he didn't know that you had done sexual things before and that you weren't innocent.

It was a Friday night in a random city in Wisconsin, your family seemed to go there a lot for hunts, and it was disgustingly cold outside. Still, it was your idea when you said you wanted to go to a party.

You weren't exactly a people person and Dean was the only one who would entertain the idea of going out and being social, so you knew when John and Sam left earlier this week that this would be your opportunity.

This time though, you came prepared. You planned on making your own drinks, staying away from trouble, and focusing on having a good time.

Though the last party was fun because you talked about random books and old movies that would bore any regular human, things went downhill before you even knew it. This time, you were determined to do it right.

Things were already turning out much better, with no Jordan's anywhere to be seen. The party was much less dark and colorful than the last because people seemed to be more focused on being able to talk rather than dance. This party setting made you feel much more comfortable.

Maybe it had to do with the fact that there were more clouds of marijuana than red solo cups filled with vodka, but it didn't matter- you were happy. The only bad thing about the atmosphere was the smell itself, John nor your brothers had ever shown an interest in it so it was a little bit offensive to your palette.

It was good to get a change of pace. The music wasn't playing so loud that you had to yell in order to have a conversation, you didn't get weird looks every time you brushed past someone, and above all, everyone seemed to be happy. Except Dean.

Dean hardly left your side, still causally flirting with any woman in close proximity, but he wouldn't leave you alone for more than two minutes at a time.

The women were different here, more sophisticated and graceful, and while Dean tried his best, he just couldn't connect with them like usual. You wondered if Dean was scared that he was losing his spark, the idea delightfully playing around in your mind, but Dean kept trying- one girl after another after another.

It was a delicacy to watch, having to see Dean try so hard when really people here only seemed to be attracted by intelligence. He had never had to try hard at anything in his life, school- he didn't care about, hunting- naturally talented, girls- easy, it was strangely satisfying.

For someone with such a strong God complex, Dean should be having dazed girls lined down the hall just to hear him talk about himself. You almost felt guilty watching Dean struggle so hard. Half of the time he couldn't keep up with the random philosophical conversations anyway, but it was fun watching him bullshit his way through before ultimately becoming disinterested.

That's why when Shauna, a beautiful curly-haired brunette, came around and offered Dean some attention, you finally felt him peel away from your side. You saw the light in his eyes that had been dimming throughout the night brighten, and you slowly faded into the background as he worked his magic.

Now, it was time to focus on yourself. You smiled at people who smiled at you as you made your way to the kitchen, making yourself a drink to keep the happy buzz coursing through your veins.

The red solo cup in your hand felt whole again, filled to the brim with very diluted alcohol so that you could keep your cool, and things seemed to be turning out great for both you and Dean.

Although you still had to go out and talk to people- something you're not extremely experienced with, you were excited to.

You had met a handful of people in your life, most, if not all, were disposable and never seen again, but you never really had any true friends. Sam was your best friend, of course, but you knew it wasn't really the same.

You didn't even really know where to begin. Some people seemed too entranced by their partners, some smiled down at their phones, and some just had resting bitch face on full display.

It began to feel a little lonely, your eyes occasionally glancing at Dean across the room, but you tried your best just to enjoy the time out of the motel. And even though you were alone in your head, you were most certainly not truly alone.

You were content, happy to see other people being happy regardless of whether or not it was with you. This was what life was like without constant intrusion from your family and it granted you a sort of freedom, a freedom you hadn't realized you craved until tonight.

When you and Sam were young, you would often dream of a life out of a motel. With Mary dying on your six-month birthday and John going insane trying to avenge her death, the only thing you and Sam had, apart from Dean, was imagination.

You used to dream of one day growing old and staying best friends with Sam until you died, moving to Hawaii or back 'home' to Kansas, or maybe even getting a real job someday.

The both of you understood that it didn't exactly sound glamorous, like becoming famous or having tons of money, but anything beat the Hunter's life. It was a dead-end road, full of misery and hatred for every living thing on Earth, and a part of you thanked John for keeping you away from it as much as possible.

But you couldn't help but feel stuck. What else to life was there other than living in motels and killing bad guys? You wouldn't know, much less ever get the chance to figure it out.

But, you were far from unhappy. You were surrounded by people you loved and while times would get rough, John would get drunk, the credit cards would fail at the restaurants, or one of the boys would come home wounded, you all made it work.

You had an unbreakable bond with Sam, a wild side that Dean helped to bring out, and an undying loyalty for family because of John. Things could always be much worse than they are.

"You know, for someone watching your boyfriend with another girl, you don't seem to be too upset," A random voice snapped you out of your thoughts. Your head turned to look at the girl standing next to you, she reached out her hand to greet you, "Sophia."

"Y/N," You greeted back, shaking her soft but firm hand.

It took you a little longer to respond, she had beautiful feminine features but she was assertive and reminded you of John. You almost felt bad for trying to read her like a book, there was such a strange energy that surrounded her.

"A fan of voyeurism, are we?" Sophia chuckled, giving you a small smirk, and your eyebrows raised.

"Of what?" You asked and she laughed a little louder. "I'm sorry, I don't know what that is." You laughed lightly, trying to understand the strange word, and she gave you a teeth-filled smile.

"Don't worry about it, sweetheart. That is your boyfriend, right?" She asked with her eyebrow raised, a concerned, but cocky, look on her face.

"No, he's not my boyfriend," You blushed at the question and she gave you a small smile.

"Well, you seem to like him a lot. Maybe you should just ask him out sometime." She encouraged, nudging you with her elbow lightly.

"It's really not like that," You laughed awkwardly and she raised her eyebrows up and down to say that she wasn't a firm believer in your statement.

"Right, it's not like you're practically eye-fucking him while he talks to my girlfriend Shauna." She scoffed and you tilted your head.

You were just happy that Dean was happy, no eye-fucking involved.

"She's your friend? She's really pretty," You told her and she shook her head.

"Girlfriend. Open relationship, I kind of figured that's how you guys were too. I mean, he's barely left your side the entire night." She corrected, pointing out why she had her assumptions.

You frowned, are you supposed to be upset that Dean's with another girl? Are you supposed to be feeling jealous that it's not you?

"Are you ever jealous?" You asked out of curiosity, the idea of an 'open relationship' new to your mind.

It was strange at first glance, but the more thought that was put in, the more it was intriguing. Not that you had an official partner in the first place.

"Not really. She picks out the scumbags, no offense, fucks them, and then comes home to tell me all about it," She tells you honestly, a smile plastered on her face.

She reminds you of Sam, he always loved hearing about the aftermath of your night out with John.

"Plus, she's usually unsatisfied and girls do it much better." She added in a whisper, a smooth wink following behind.

"I'm sure they do," You replied, fighting back a blush that you quickly deduced and blamed on alcohol.

"You ever been with a girl, Y/N?" Sophia asked, licking her lips as the question concluded and you found yourself staring.

"No, um, I've never really thought about it," You said, almost stuttering your way through.

Surely the alcohol had to do with the way you were feeling, but all-in-all, she was attractive and there was no denying it. You'd seen girl-on-girl porn, almost a preferable choice because they always seemed to enjoy themselves a little bit more, but it wasn't ever something that crossed your mind.

Now, there was an undeniably hot girl in front of you talking about sexuality, it was all a little confusing.

"I'm not a psychic, but something tells me you're curious," She smirked, and your mouth opened to reply but nothing came out.

Sophia's hands landed on the collar of your jacket, straightening it, which made your breath hitch in the back of your throat.

"Relax, I'm not gonna bite unless you want me to," She chuckled and you began to realize that your knuckles were turning white from holding your hands together so tightly.

You didn't know whether you wanted Dean to look over at you when she planted her mouth on yours or not. Her lips were much softer and fuller than either John's or Sam's and she tasted much sweeter too, it was a nice change of pace.

She was much more pushy than what you were used to, guiding the pace and expecting you to match, and it wasn't long until the thoughts started to flood your mind.

Would Dean look over and notice? Would he be upset? Would he be excited? Would he even care? You wanted him to.

If you were supposed to be jealous that he was with another girl, you wanted him to be jealous that you were too.

Sophia's chin was smooth with no traces of stubble like you normally felt. Her hands were soft as they cupped your cheek, her teeth nibbled at your bottom lip in the softest way possible, and her smell- God, she smelt so good.

It was much different than the 3-in-1 body wash that the boys used because she smelt like she actually took care of herself. She smelled of flowers, but not like the old-lady type of perfume, she smelled soft and delicate and that was the only thing you could think of.

Sophia's fingernails lightly scraped against your cheeks when they made their way into your hair, and when you gasped she smiled into your mouth. It was evident that she knew what she was doing and you didn't think twice about letting her... whatever it led up to.

Maybe it was the thrill of being seen by Dean or the fact that it was new and exciting. Feeling soft and delicate fingers roaming through your hair was something you could get used to. Or maybe it was the alcohol, you weren't exactly sober- but you were still in the right mind to make good decisions, even if you were more inclined to try new things.

You had never been with a girl, you had never even really had friends that were girls. You weren't sure if you wanted to be her, envied that she had such confidence and charisma, or if you were actually attracted to her. She was beautiful and if you really took the time to think about it- the wetness growing in between your legs answered your question.

It wasn't long before you got lost in her trance, the quiet music almost seemed silent as you could only hear her lips moving with yours. The lights seemed to dim as your eyes stayed closed because all you did was focus on her.

Then, everything was moving so fast, one second you were in the middle of someone's living room and then you were pressed against the wall in the hallway. Your head was spinning and your neck craned upwards to kiss the lips attacking yours and when you heard him growl into your mouth, that's when you knew he had been watching for quite some time.

Dean had his hands lightly wrapped around the sides of your neck, pulling you closer to him but still pinning you against the wall with his body. Your hands gripped onto his waist, pulling him as close to you as possible, and the thoughts of Sophia quickly faded into nothing.

Dean was hungry for you, moving his lips as if he were attempting to tear them off, kissing all over your neck and not caring about whether he left marks, pushing into your body so hard that you could barely breathe.

His tongue was all over the place, your cheeks, your lips, your neck, your collarbone, your chest, and you wanted to feel it everywhere. His teeth nipped anywhere his lips went, leaving you a whimpering mess as you let him do whatever he pleased.

When Dean's lips reconnected with yours, you could taste the whiskey in his breath and smell the cologne he had doused himself in before you left the motel. Kissing him made you feel even more tipsy than before. He was more needy than Sam ever was, more attentive than John, and he seemed to be a perfect combination of all of their best qualities.

"This is wrong," Dean whispered into your mouth, but before you could question why he was all over you again.

Dean's hands trailed down your body as yours found their place in his hair, gripping lightly and pulling him in closer as he moaned into your mouth. There were practically no breaks in between each kiss, leaving the both of you panting, but neither of you seemed to care.

Dean took a step back, gripping tightly onto your waist as he pulled you closer to him and you could no longer feel the warm wall against your back.

He hadn't said any other words to you, but his actions were more than enough to tell you what he really wanted. You knew that Dean was bold, but you figured that there would be some sort of build-up for the two of you. Maybe some innocent flirting that would progress into sexual innuendos directed at one another, maybe some touching brushed off as accidental, that's what he always did with his hook-ups.

With you it was different, he skipped all of the formalities and went straight into the good part, and you didn't mind whatsoever.

But, as the touching progressed into squeezing and digging his fingers into your skin, your mind wandered to other places. Why did he say it was wrong? Were you not good enough for him? He was all over you, that couldn't be true. Was he drunk? Was that the reason that kissing you was wrong?

Maybe he meant that you were wrong for each other, John always said that this stuff shouldn't happen with anyone else. He always said that nobody could ever love you enough to touch you the way that he did. But you loved Dean and you knew that he loved you, why was he not good enough? Why was it wrong?

You hadn't even noticed someone was talking to the both of you until he pulled his lips back to mutter an answer, "I'm busy, man. Get out of here." Dean said aloud and before you had the chance to look over, his lips were on yours again and his body was pressed against you.

"Dean, what the hell are you doing? Are you even listening?" That you heard.

This time, the voice was easily recognizable, it was Sammy. Your cheeks flushed red when Dean pulled back, his eyes were wide and filled with dread to which you furrowed your eyebrows and tilted your head, asking yourself why.

"Sam, look, I- It's not what it looks like," Dean struggled to get out, letting his hands loosen around your waist and raise in the air in defense.

It was easy to tell that Dean had no idea that Sam wouldn't mind and that he was most likely trying to come up with a viable explanation for kissing you. You backed up a little, giving Sam a small smile when he looked at you, indicating that you were right about Dean.

"Dude, I'm not- um, it's just that Dad's outside and he's threatening to call the cops and we got to go," Sam replied hastily.

You smiled to yourself, knowing that Sam was most likely fighting his own arousal, but then you frowned at the thought of John. Outside. Waiting. Knowing that you were here. A party. With drugs and alcohol.

John was not going to be very happy with you and you felt your face growing pale with anxiety.

"Let's go, Y/N," Dean said gruffly, grabbing your arm tightly and dragging you through the small crowd.

You fought Dean's grip a little, dreading the thought of John being upset with you, but you let him lead you toward the front. Your head was still spinning, trying to understand how you were watching Dean with Shauna, having a conversation with Sophia, which led up to making out with her. Then you were pressed against the wall by your big brother, and now your twin was leading you outside to see your, most likely, very angry father.

When the cold, crisp air nearly froze your lungs as you stepped outside, you saw John waiting for the three of you. John was pissed, he was clenching his fists as he advanced towards all of you.

You expected him to grab you by the hair, drag you to the car, and not even let you explain yourself, but he went straight for Dean.

"What the hell were you thinking, son?!" John practically screamed, grabbing fistfuls of Dean's leather jacket.

"Dad, I-I go to parties all of the time, I don't understand," Dean gulped so hard that you could see his Adam's apple gliding up and down his throat. He was nervous, stuttering, and grabbing onto John's wrists to stop him from doing anything more than grabbing his jacket.

"Not with Y/N. Do you understand me?" John growled, letting go of the jacket and roughly pushing Dean back.

Dean stumbled, barely keeping himself standing, and you could see Dean's eyes that were filled with fear. The same expression appeared on your face when John turned his body in your direction.

"Get in the truck, I need to talk to you," John demanded, pointing his shaking finger toward you.

You gulped, much like Dean, and nodded your head, deciding that there was no point in protesting.

"Sammy, drive Dean home. No but's, Dean. Obviously, you aren't capable of good decisions, why should I let you drive my car?" John said and you turned around so quickly that you didn't have time to wait around to watch Dean's reaction.

Your feet scrambled towards the truck. When you began to climb in, you turned to close the door but John slammed it behind you, making you jump in your seat. Your eyes found the phone that was lit up on the middle seat, showing your exact location and you knew that was definitely how he found you.

Then you saw the empty bottle of whiskey and you knew it wasn't Sam's, John was drunk... again, which wasn't surprising.

You decided to look straight ahead and try your best to avoid his gaze, but you knew that something needed to be said to de-escalate your father.

"Daddy, I-" You began before being cut off immediately.

"Shut it. How long have you been partying?" John's voice boomed through the cab of the car.

You shook your head, tears freely falling down your cheeks. You hated when he was angry with you, it was the worst feeling in the world.

"I'm sorry. I convinced Dean to take me with him," You told him in a choked sob, scared of how he might react.

John furrowed his eyebrows, reaching over and gripping your chin tightly in between his fingers, the new pressure causing you to wince.

"Did you smoke tonight? You smell like you did," He asked through grit teeth and your head shook side to side as best as it could. "Did you drink?" He questioned again and you nodded your head cautiously.

You couldn't lie to him, your head was spinning.

"Are you fucking stupid, Y/N? Where was Dean?" John growled, letting go of your chin and your head felt weak.

"He was- He was with me the entire time," You struggled to get out yet again, and his jaw tensed. Your eyes traveled to his jaw, looking back up into eyes that were nearly black.

"You're lying to me. I don't like liars, Y/N," He said callously and you shook your head in defiance, he was with you for the most part- that isn't lying.

"Daddy, I'm not lying, I swear," You cried, feeling his hand in your hair as it lifted your chin toward the ceiling. His rough, calloused fingers traced over your neck, an unappreciative grunt leaving his throat.

"Who did this to you?" He growled, pinching the skin at your neck and you could feel yourself panicking.

You couldn't tell him it was Dean, he would literally kill your older brother if he knew.

"Answer me." He demanded, pinching harder and making you whimper in pain.

"A- A girl. It was a girl," You told him, the only person you could think of being Sophia.

Your eyes stayed focused on the ceiling as you felt his grip on your hair loosen, eyebrows creasing as you heard him chuckle deeply. It was the most terrifying laugh you had ever heard.

"A girl?" John asked, his breath hitting right behind your ear as he moved closer to you.

The whiskey in his breath was prominent, but it was so normal that it almost felt refreshing. You whimpered when he tugged on your hair again, resting his left hand on your thigh.

"When will you realize that you're mine, hm?" His intense growl made your breath hitch, sending shivers down your spine. "Nobody can touch you, do you understand me? I'm the only one who loves you enough, baby." He said in a softer tone, using the hand resting on your thigh to pull your legs apart from one another.

"I know," You croaked, feeling the way his fingers were rubbing circles on top of your jeans.

John's hand trailed higher, gripping tightly onto your inner thigh, "Did she touch you there, princess?" He whispered, stopping just before your heat and you felt the wetness growing in between your legs.

"No, Daddy," You answered solidly and he chuckled deeply into your ear. His hand lingered there and you moved around a bit to feel something.

"But you kissed her?" He asked, hand gripping tightly onto your thigh, and you nodded your head. "Did you want her to touch you there?" He asked, almost teasingly as his fingers magically inched up higher.

"Yes, I did. I'm sorry," You told him, sudden guilt filling your stomach.

You knew that he was the only one who loved you enough. You weren't supposed to do those kinds of things with people you didn't love. But Dean did it all the time. What made you different? Maybe he just didn't want you to- maybe this was just as wrong as kissing Dean.

"It's okay, baby, but it can't happen again. You promise?" John asked, pressing a sloppy kiss into your neck.

"I promise," You told him.

"What's wrong?" John asked, and at this point, you were squirming around in your seat. "Want me to touch you, hm?" He questioned again, ghosting his fingers above your heat through your jeans. Y

ou nodded your head, despite the tight hold he had on your hair.

"Too bad. Bad girls don't get rewarded." John teased you, chuckling lowly as his hand left your thigh.

You let out a whimper, needing now more than ever to be touched.

"But, maybe you can make it up to me." He said, placing his lips just below your ear and nipping at the skin.

You nodded your head, ready to do anything for him if it meant that you could get off tonight.

"You know what to do, don't you, baby girl?" He asked, letting go of your hair and his hands came down and thumbed his jeans open.

You gave him a small smile, letting your tears die down and dry on your cheeks, and turned towards him. He shifted his body so that his back was placed against the car door, pushing his jeans completely off, and placing one foot on the floor while the other stayed on the seat.

Normally, this would happen in the back seat, but John seemed a little too eager tonight. You took your position, lying flat on your stomach, and propping yourself on your elbows as you looked up at him through your lashes. He swiped the hair out of your face, giving you a smile, and your fingernails dipped into the waistband of his boxers.

"Wait, baby," John stopped you, holding onto your hands that were about to pull down his boxers. "I wanna try something new, is that okay?" He asks and your brows furrowed, what haven't you learned by now?

John shifted so that he was lying flat and you were sitting on top of him, not sure exactly what to do.

"I want you to suck my cock while I eat you out." He said, pushing the jacket off of your shoulders.

You wiggled it off, leaving your shirt on like he did, and his fingers came up and undid your jeans' button.

"Daddy, I thought you said-" You began to say, feeling the guilt weighing in from doing something that he disapproved of.

"I know, baby, but you know I can't stay mad at you for very long," He cut you off, shh-ing you by pulling you by your neck and bringing you into a deep and passionate kiss.

Your hips slid down his abdomen, your heat rubbing against his hard-on, making him moan into your mouth. His tongue explored and his teeth bit your bottom lip, extracting a moan of your own.

As much as you loved kissing Dean tonight, or Sammy in the showers you took, John knew everything that you liked. He knew exactly how to get you going.

"Daddy, I can't wait, I need you," You told him, desperately trying to get your release, edging yourself closer and closer as you rubbed against his erection. "I want to please you too." You compromised, knowing that he probably couldn't wait much longer either.

"Alright, Y/N, take your clothes off," He broke the kiss, pulling at the hem of your T-shirt.

You continued to sit on top of him, pulling your shirt over the top of your head and discarding it on the ground. A small moan left your lips when his hands came up to cup your breasts through your bra, kneading and massaging the delicate skin.

John's hands reached around, undoing the clasp of your simple bra and guiding the fabric down your shoulders until it was on the ground. You dipped your head down to kiss him again, relishing the way your hard nipples feel against his chest, and using your hips to grind against him again.

After a few, all too short, seconds you pulled up, working on getting your jeans off. John sat up, giving you space to do so, and discarded his own shirt, lying back down as you met him with your lips again.

His hands roamed all over your backside, squeezing your ass and rutting his hips into you which made you gasp. He was fully hard and you could tell without having to look, he was just as desperate as you were to feel something.

His hands slid down your waist, leaving goosebumps in their wake, pulling your panties down your thighs. He moaned into your mouth, presumably feeling your excitement, and helped you get your clothes off entirely.

Then, he reached down and shimmied off his own boxers, continuing to kiss you as you felt his hardened cock against your core- wishing that he would give up his stupid wish of making it perfect and fuck you already, but you'll take what you can get.

"Baby, turn around and let me taste you," John moaned into your mouth and you gave him one last peck before lifting up.

If it were any other day, you would sit on his face as he gripped your hips, but he specifically said that he wanted his dick sucked while he ate you out- and only one position made sense. You situated yourself, both knees on either side of his head and your mouth just above his cock.

You squealed when you felt his large hands pull you by your hips and guide you down to his face, the immediate lick on your clit almost enough to make you cum. You moaned as he began to attack you with his mouth and you took him in your hand, pumping him and rubbing your thumb over the precum that had already leaked out.

John hummed into your clit before wrapping his lips around it, sucking and nibbling at the nub that had been calling his name all night.

You lowered your mouth, almost unable to focus on anything other than the pleasure he was giving you, and you wrapped your lips around the glistening tip of his cock. This made him moan more into your core, encouraging you to keep doing what you're doing, so you did.

You swallowed him down as much as you could, your lips like a vacuum as you pulled up and felt him leave your mouth with a loud 'pop'.

It was almost a tradition to start out that way, taking him once entirely before sucking him down over and over until you couldn't breathe anymore. You were close to gagging, so close to almost fitting him all the way in, as your head bobbed up and down on his cock.

John was dipping his tongue inside of you, going back and forth between that and sucking your clit, occasionally making obscene noises as he kitten-licked your sweet spot over and over.

"Fuck, Y/N, you taste so good," He muttered into you, almost inaudibly, before he dove into your heat again. The praise made you want to cum all over his tongue and paint him with your juices, but even more so- it made you want to please him.

He was using his hands to spread you apart, licking the very depth of you and coercing the familiar pit in your stomach to grow. You continued to swallow him down, warm and wet sloshing noises filling up the cabin of the truck.

You could feel him twitch in your mouth, indicating that he was getting close. At the same time, his hands were pulling you closer to his face, making you wonder how the hell he was breathing. It felt like a race to see who came first.

At first, his hips slowly raised so that he filled your mouth perfectly, then, he started to go faster, fucking into your mouth as he held you down. Your lips stayed sealed around him, feeling the way he hit the back of your throat and threatened to make you gag around him.

You then gathered the courage to hold him down like he was holding you. His hips stayed glued to the seat as you held him down with your hands, sucking him down with more purpose than ever before.

His tongue was working wonders on your clit, kissing, nibbling, and sucking, and the vibrations from his groans were making your orgasm much closer. He twitched in your mouth again and you didn't dare to go up for air, you were determined to win the race.

Your hand worked whatever you couldn't fit in your mouth, your tongue focusing on the tip which made him cry into your heat.

Soon enough, he was cumming white, hot, and salty into your mouth, pleasing you so much that you came on his tongue as you ground on his mouth. Your hips were stuttering and you were practically screaming around him, feeling as your legs shook around his head. You swallowed him down, collecting all of your gift, as he continued to attack your soaking slit.

After a few minutes, you were both completely out of breath, fully dressed in the front seat, and having your after-pleasure-make-out-session. You could taste yourself on his tongue and he could taste himself on yours. Everything was perfect.

Maybe you should get in trouble more often.

"Do you really think you're ready?" John asked breathlessly, pulling back from your lips and giving you a small smile.

"I've been ready for a long time, Daddy," You gave him a smile in return, your cheeks blushing harder at the thought of finally going all the way.

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