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writingmeraki · 1 month

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the etiquettes of a true bodyguard — j.ww drabble.

❝ in which wonwoo proves the theory of humans tending to crave what they can't have and he realises that he definitely wants you.

( or you wonder if this was all your karma catching up to you when you become the bodyguard for the renowned notorious rockstar. )

pairing : rockstar!wonwoo x bodyguard!reader, one-sided enemies to ?? genre : angsty, fluffy. warnings : mentions of attacks, injuries, knives, stalkers, treating of wounds, blood. wonwoo is sort of rude. notproofread.

a/n at the end ( it got too long ) pls read and also lmk what u think of this : )

word count : 3.3k

Don’t believe in rumours regarding your clients. (The truth is far more better albeit there’ll always be exceptions. )

You'd mastered the art of nonchalance.

If such a thing did even exist but in other words you were very in control of your emotions, usually being able to maintain a calm facade even if there was chaos around you.

You suppose it was due to your occupation, after all being an agent did require a lot of keeping your emotions in check.

Even when you weren't doing your job and doing something else, it wasn't as if there was some sort of on and off button where you could switch up your personality and let loose. It just wasn't habituated to you.

Being a bodyguard however was different. A favour is what it was. You owed a favour to someone and that someone made you repay the favour by being a bodyguard for someone else they knew.

You couldn't argue about it because at the end of it still meant you were repaying back what you owed.

It was like a glorified version of a babysitter. Following someone around, making sure they don't mess up or get messed up. That's the whole jist of it.

Or at least it was what you thought initially.

But you forgot it wasn't children or teens. Rather grown ass adults. Almost your age type adults.

Said adults being rockstars part of a rock band that was composed of four of them.

Apparently, in this industry it was common for these celebrities to have personal bodyguards because of the threats they'd face such as fans who get a little crazy, jealous people who tend to push the limits to the max with death threats, paparazzi who have no idea what a personal space is and the list goes on and on.

You never had been a bodyguard before so when you discovered all the reasons a “mere” singer would need one, you were shocked to say the least.

Yet, a favour is a favour and you would keep to your word and do your best, so that's what you did. Being the best bodyguard was the goal.

It was your first time doing such a task? Mission? You couldn’t quite understand where this role would fall into because unlike the past where these roles were just disguises, this was actually the real deal.

And just as you did in the past, you did a background check on your target, no wait clients.

SVT. A short form of seventeen. The year they had formed the band. SVT is composed of four members. They were a rock band that rose to fame over the years, gaining a loyal fanbase due to their unique music style and concepts.

Choi Seunghcheol, the lead guitarist. Also the leader of the band. He was younger than you but he was the oldest amongst the four. He was someone the public adored, his personality was contrary to what usual rockstars were stereotyped as, quite the gentleman.

Kim Mingyu, the drummer of the band. He was coined with a golden retriever like personality, outshining in a room full of people just by his mere presence. Tall, buff and once again quite contrary to the stereotypes. He was the charmer of the group you suppose.

You were wondering if they were actually a rock band at that point, but then came the other two.

Hansol Vernon Chwe, keyboard player, clung onto the typical stereotypes like it was his coat. Rebellious and confidence was his whole get-go. He was true to his role, on and off-stage.

All of them were in fact, completely different on stage based on your research.

And how could you forget Jeon Wonwoo?

Saving the best for last you suppose. Jeon Wonwoo, the vocalist. It was as if there was more than enough information to know exactly what he was like. Reckless, rebellious, passionate, charmer. There were numerous rumours surrounding him, in fact they all did, but it seemed he was the public’s favourite. From being a frequent party-goer, to the typical supposed playboy, it seemed that he was always a topic.

They all did have their fair share of rumours, you had to dig into all the dirt, even the worse one because after all you wanted to be ready for what would come.

You should have known with the glint in his eyes and the smirk on his face the first time you saw him when you were introduced to SVT, that he was not going to make your goal easier.

Gradually, you got introduced to the rest of them and learnt they were alright, as a matter of truth,you got along with Seungcheol a lot in the way you were both pretty much the oldest, where you were older by two years to him, so it was almost as if he looked up to you for a lot of advice.

Mingyu was well…Mingyu. He had that energy in him that seemed to outshine any room he walked in and he was actually quite a sweetheart too. Always listened and took into consideration.

Vernon was basically almost like a kid to you. He'd say the most out of place shit that would always catch you off guard and had you contemplating why exactly you were there. It was actually quite a contrast to what you had searched about him. A good contrast, you concluded.

However, you were fine with all of them. The problem begins with Jeon Wonwoo.

Him with his messy hair, messy eye makeup that somehow suited him, lips that curved up into a perfect smirk. He was trouble if it existed in human form. As cliche as it sounded. It was their whole aesthetic though, the messy looks and makeup but he somehow looked like he was born to be a star like that.

He was reckless though. You think that’s one of his flaws. Or he purposely tried to make your life harder. It seemed, the rumours were not just that, they were the actual reality of him.

And due to the whole rebellious thing he had going on, he hated you.

Wonwoo in other words, did not like the idea of a personal bodyguard following him around everywhere. He knew due to their subsequent rise to fame, the negative parts would also come. He was fine with having security when they were attending events, going to the airports. As a group it was fine. But he dreaded it the day he was informed by his manager, Seungkwan, each of them would be assigned a personal bodyguard to be with them all times of the day.

Perhaps, it was because he never understood the need for one. He was not attacked physically but then again, it was always better to be safe than sorry.

The first day he saw you, despite all of them being a bit taken aback by how young you actually were and not only that you weren’t too bad on the eyes either, he was annoyed.

He could feel it in his bones, you were someone who stuck to rules. Always being by the book. Wonwoo hated that. And he would do just about everything to make sure, you’d quit. He did not need a personal bodyguard before. He wouldn’t need one now.

How wrong he was about to be proven.

“Mr. Jeon, you should be more care-”

“Don’t call me that.”

Pausing in your steps, you furrowed your eyebrows in question. You were making sure your own annoyance wouldn’t be shown. Wonwoo did not pay attention to you suddenly not trailing him, going forward towards the midnight grocery store.

It was ridiculous to think he needed someone to protect him when he was just going for a quick five minute run to the store that was near their hotel to get a drink.

He was just about to go quietly and be back without anyone noticing but of fucking course, you were able to somehow know.

“This is ridiculous, it’s just five minutes.” He spoke with anger, his eyes glaring at you, pretty lips in a scowl. You wondered if he knew that despite trying to look intimidating, he somehow looked more pretty.

“Just? A lot can happen in five minutes.” You said calmly, eyes making contact with him. You could tell he wasn’t used to people not cowering away under his glare.

He inhaled sharply, eyes closing for a brief moment, “Whatever.”

He pushed past you, making sure to knock into your shoulder. If it weren’t for the brief discontent you felt towards him, maybe you could have appreciated how put together he looked despite it almost being very late. Grey and black were his colours.

And that was how you’d ended up mid argument, trying to tell him to be careful of the darkness caused by the absence of some street lights. They were turned off probably due to malfunction. It gave the entire street a very eerie vibe because since only a few were functioning, it would be hard to make out who was walking in front of you.

You were accustomed to the dark, knowing what to keep in mind and always being observant. However, Wonwoo wasn’t. His judgement at the moment was clouded by irritance at your presence.

It was only for a brief second but you were able to make out a quick flash of movement just in front of Wonwoo. It was fast, likely so no one can know. Wonwoo had turned to putting his attention on his phone, scrolling and mumbling curses at you under his breath.

The store was still a few metres ahead, standing out by being one of the few only lit buildings. It was due to the glow of the lights of the store, you were able to catch the movement.

Before you knew it, you instinctively rushed forward and harshly grabbed Wonwoo’s arm, him almost dropping his phone and yelping, you threw him behind you.

The intruder appeared from the right side, where there was an unlit tiny alley, the perfect place to wait for unsuspecting late nighters. You grabbed the knife that was raised midway, ready to slash into the person ahead.

It was so fast, Wonwoo felt he would have missed it if he blinked because next thing he knew, he was suddenly shoved far to the left. All he saw was you holding the hand of a fully black clothed person, who was in turn holding a knife. The knife that would have likely pierced him if…if it weren’t for you.

You did not care if the knife was pressing into the palm of your hand, piercing your skin, all you cared about was making sure nothing were to happen to Wonwoo. And so when you heard what you thought was a gasp of pain, you roughly pushed away the intruder, who was also in shock because he did not expect you. And tonight, he did not want a fight he wasn’t even sure he’d win and so he escaped when he got the chance.

You quickly rushed to Wonwoo, who’d by your shove, had stumbled and fallen. He didn’t even realise it, trying to make sense of what just happened in the past few minutes.

“Mr.Jeon!Mr Jeon- Wonwoo!” You were shaking him harshly by his shoulders as he blinked back to reality upon hearing his name. His name for the first time from you. In probably the worst case he could imagine.

“Are you alright?” Out of pure concern, you held his face, scanning for injuries as you pushed back his hair. You then took his hands and did the same to make sure he wasn’t hurt too bad. Just a little scrap from falling.

Wonwoo, for the good of everything, could not explain why his heart felt like it’d combust the moment you touched his face and brushed his hair. He knew why you were doing it but it didn’t stop his heart from fluttering.

Why?

He was confused. He hated you. Was it possible he couldn’t quite understand if it was truly hate?

“Wonwoo?” He realised he still hadn’t replied, but when he heard his name for the second time, he also had another realisation. He thinks he likes the way you say it.

“Yeah- yeah I’m alright I-” He muttered, looking away as he stood up, “Let’s just- let’s just go back.”

He decided he didn’t want to go to the damned store, nor get the drinks. He just wanted to rest. His head felt dizzy at the idea of almost being hurt severely. It was though it only took a few moments for him to realise maybe he had been wrong all along, heck not maybe, he was definitely wrong.

“Okay, let’s go.”

You didn’t even question him as he trailed right beside you, almost to the point you were in sync, when a while ago, he seemed repulsed at being near you.

You followed him up to his room, but not before making sure there was no one trailing you and informing the other security around the hotel, regarding the intruder and telling someone to also inform the police.

He didn’t get irritated like he usually would, in fact he was too quiet.

“Are you actually fine Mr.Jeon?” He frowned, he didn’t like the way you called him, remaining ever so in character.

“No- no don’t call me that, Wonwoo is fine.”

You blinked once, twice to make sure you were hearing correctly. You slowly nodded, “Oh-kay, but,are you alright?”

“Yes, I uh- I'm fine.”

“My apologies, you weren't able to get your meal.”

You were sorry? He could have died and you…you saved him but you were the one who felt bad?

He hated the fact that only now was he actually realising what could have possibly happened if you weren’t there.

He felt stupid.

Glancing towards you,his gaze drifted towards your hand, the injured one half-heartedly wrapped with a makeshift bandage from your handkerchief likely.

“Let me bandage that for you properly, I feel it is the least I could do.”

You were about to argue, as you would, about how you’d do it yourself and to not fret over you because it was something you were pretty used to. Besides it wasn’t as big of a deal anyway, just a minor scrap.

But before you could, he reached out for your hand, holding it in his and looked back up at you. And this time, the way he did, it made you feel…uneasy. His hand felt warm. Very warm. Compared to your bleeding out hand.

Uneasy in a way where your heart fluttered. You couldn’t seem to form a thought as you stared right into his eyes. They were a rich brown colour that reminded you of pools of honey under the sun. It was unusual for you to ever think like that for someone let alone your actual client.

He spoke in a soft tone, you were sure you wouldn’t hear if you weren’t so close, “Please?”

It was definitely not normal for the way your throat seemed to dry up upon hearing him say that word.

“Oh-okay, alright.” And without much thought, you agreed and convinced yourself it was definitely not because of the puppy eyes he’d given you or the way his hand seemed to hold yours as if nothing else in the world existed for him.

You think those were what you’d call famous last words, because at the moment, you were regretting even agreeing. It wasn’t because of Wonwoo in particular, in fact he did prove to be someone who knew how to bandage efficiently.

But it was also because of him, your mind was simply a haywire.

You sat down on his bed, immediately hit by his signature smell as soon as you stepped in the room. It was everywhere but not in an overwhelming way, in a way that indicated it was a room that was lived in by him.

He came up with the first aid kit from the bathroom and sat beside you turning his body towards you as you faced forward with your feet down, feeling unprofessional to even sit fully on his bed.

Not that the whole ordeal would even fit into your etiquette rule book but perhaps you were beginning to realise, there were certain things you were wrong about. Or right.

You specifically remember a particular article where the headline described Wonwoo as a “shallow brat with an attitude as well.” and to a certain point, it seemed that they may have been right. But that was not the case now.

Or was it ever the case?

This time, the truth was indeed far better than the rumour.

It was as if the silence was enough to occupy the space between you two, him carefully cleaning your wound and disinfecting it. He glanced at your face during that part and was unsure whether to be worried or amazed by the fact that you didn’t even flinch when he wiped the hydrogen peroxide over your open cut.

Your tongue was weighed down by the thoughts running in your mind, it was as if the person in front of you was actually another person.

He was close to you, and the juxtaposition of moments ago to the current moment almost made you chuckle. It was hilarious how situations could change so quickly.

“There. Done.”

Raising your hand, you examined it with a scrutinising gaze making sure it was properly done. It made him feel slightly nervous yet he did not know if that was the only cause of that or upon the realisation of how your knees were touching the whole time — still were.

You got up, much to his disappointment, nodding along.

“Good job actually, you’ve done great.” You swore you could see a faint blush painting his cheeks and his ears a shade redder than normal. You clenched your hand beside you, hoping it would calm your weirdly speeding up heart.

And this was when it really hit you, about where you were….who you were.

Clearing your throat, you spoke up, “Well I should get going now. It’s far too late and you should get some rest as well.”

Immediately he slightly frowned at that, blinking in a bit of amazement at how quick you’d changed moods. Then again, the night seemed to be all about too many quick changes.

You moved towards his door, not wanting to glance at him, not wanting to think or do anything that was definitely not just against your etiquettes but also your overall job.

He was safe. He was sound too. Everything about him was good and what he needed was rest and you did too because it was one hell of a nigh—

“Wait!”

You paused in your footsteps, already out of the door as you turned back around to face him.

“Goodnight…Y/n.”

He stood against the door, as he stared at you with those same honey eyes of his, that you think would never fail to amaze you, even in the most unlikely of situations.

And for the first time, or his first, he saw you smile. One corner slowly lifted while the other followed as you shook your head. And this time, it was his mind that seemed to blank out because holy shit.

“Goodnight…Wonwoo.” You said with a grin as you waved him once and then turned back around. Nonchalantly. As if you hadn’t just…just smiled at him the way you did.

And did you just address him with his first name without him whining about it?!?

His hand reached up to his chest, pressing tightly to his left part and realizing just how fast it beat against it.

Yeah he was sure about one thing.

This was in no way the so-called hatred he desperately wished he felt towards you existed.

But then again, did it ever?

a/n : urm hi. so um this was a very random idea that sprung to me like ages ago literal ages actually and i decided to pick it up and finallly finish this piece? it feels incomplete because i am actually maybe ( if this does well ) making this into sort of a drabble series with this same pairing but yk different scenarios and their dynamics changing as well? sorry if this feels rushed! i wrote like till a certain point way long ago and after that it's recent, i haven't written in a while so please excuse the weird flow as well. i just wanted to have some fun and also post something to show im alive hahaha pls let me know what you think and whether you'd want to read more of this pairing because tbh i kinda love them lollll :DDD

perm. taglist ( open ! ) : @mansaaay ; @gyuguys ; @toplinehyunjin ; @cherrylovescheol ; @stagefrjghts

( if you want to be added just send an ask/reply to this !)

all written works as well as images and edits (unless credited) belong to pri. do not plagiarise, repost, re-edit or claim as yours. pics mostly found on pinterest.

feedback is always appreciated 💌 !

links : main navi ! | svt masterlist ! | info !

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tropes-and-tales · 4 months

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You Talk Too Much

(From the "Shut Up" kiss starter prompts, found here)

CW: Richie being Richie, swearing.

Word Count: 1740

AN: Requested by @winchestershiresauce

You don’t smoke, but it doesn’t stop you from escaping out the back door of The Beef near the end of shift to catch your breath and relax. There’s only a few lingering customers out front, and you are exhausted and frazzled.

It’s quiet out back. You love your job—really, you do—but it can be a lot. A lot. It’s loud and hectic and a million things happen at once. Sometimes the chaos of the day is just limited to the customers flowing through for classic Chicago fare. Sometimes the chaos is more, well, chaotic: a burst pipe, a failed health inspection, an impromptu Ball-Breaker tournament to help breakeven for the week.

You love your job. You love The Beef, and you love your coworkers, but sometimes you need quiet.

The neighborhood mellows out at night, at least in the little nook behind the restaurant. The noise of the city—the traffic, the sirens, the wind off the river and lake—falls away to a murmur, background noise that builds and then breaks over you in gentle waves. You sit on an overturned milk crate and pull your knees up, wrap your arms around your knees. You lean back against the brick wall and shut your eyes. You breathe deep, steadying breaths and feel your heartbeat calm. Hours and hours of chaos, and now you can throttle down a bit.

It lasts all of a minute.

You hear the door squeal open on its hinges, then hear it slam shut a moment later. You don’t bother to open your eyes; you can guess who it is.

A beat later, someone settles onto another milk crate beside you with a grunt. You hear the ritual sounds of a veteran smoker: the shaking of a soft pack, the quiet snick of the lighter, the first harsh inhale, the pleased sigh as the nicotine hits the bloodstream.

Richie. The Beef’s resident asshole. The utter bane of your existence when you started months ago. He had bullied you relentlessly, a hazing that extended beyond gentle workplace pranking. Richie, you came to find out, hates change, and you came into his life in the midst of immense change.

The loss of his best friend who was more like a brother.

The loss of his family when his wife divorced him.

The loss of his restaurant, his beloved dysfunctional sandwich shop as Carmy slowly started to change the system.

But as the months passed, Richie softened towards you. You proved too stubborn to give in to his bullying, and at some point, you became part of the landscape of The Beef. You became part of the family, and Richie eased off the bullying.

His teasing turned sweeter, almost: he calls you sweetheart now, sometimes babe, and when he needs to get past you in the tight quarters of the restaurant, he lays a light hand on your shoulder or your back as he squeezes past you.

Then came the stories. When it’s quiet, when the doors aren’t open yet and you’re just prepping for the day, Richie regales you with stories. So many stories. Stories about his time at West Lawrence Avenue. Stories about tearing up the town with Mikey. Stories about the Goddess of Agriculture and Bill Murray. Richie always leans in close and tells you these stories, often repeating tales you’ve already heard, but just as you never confronted him about the bullying, you never confront him about his repetitious storytelling.

Richie, you guess, is a complicated man. A man with a lot of feelings who perhaps doesn’t know how to express them. From the caustic bully sneering at you about disrupting the “delicate ecosystem” of The Beef… to the smiling charmer as he regales you with his Bill Murray story.

You open your eyes enough to squint and confirm that it’s Richie sitting beside you, as if the scent of his cologne isn’t confirmation enough. But it’s him. Visual confirmation obtained. You take in his lanky form neatly folded to fit on the milk crate, one leg kicked out straight and the other folded up near his chest. His profile illuminated by the flickering light near the dumpsters.

The man isn’t entirely unappealing. Once you get past the crusty layers of asshole behavior, the sarcasm and inferiority complex and refusal to feel his feelings, he’s actually a good man. Loyal to a fault. Loving father. The sort of man to assemble his own family of friends and misfits, who then defends that family to the death.

But too chatty sometimes. Like now.

Because after the first deep drag of his cigarette, he starts talking. “I ever tell you about the time me and Mikey were at Ceres?”

You bite the inside of your mouth to stop from smiling. “Yeah, you did.”

“Place was packed with Blackhawk fans—”

“Because Denis Savard just got inducted into the hockey hall of fame,” you fill in for him.

“Chelios was there,” he continues, like he hasn’t even heard you. “I mean, the place was fucking packed—”

On he goes. On and on and on. The quiet lull of the city noise falls away and all you can focus on is Richie’s voice, the cigarette husky quality of it, and you like his voice, you love his stories because he loves telling them, but you just want quiet right now.

“Richie—”

“And I feel this tap on my shoulder—”

“Rich—”

“And it’s Bill fucking Murray! And he’s like—”

“Richie, c’mon—”

“He’s like, ‘what are you doing?’ And I tell him, I say—”

You don’t know why you snap. The man literally made your life a living hell when you started at the restaurant, but you never once snapped. Never fought back, only shrugged and let the insults roll of your back. You don’t know why you snap now, and you don’t know quite why you snap the way you do.

Because you don’t yell at him or smack him. Richie goes on and on with his story, his face lit up at the happy memory he shared with Mikey, and he’s gesturing with his hands, his half-burnt cigarette forgotten as he talks and glances at you to see if you’re listening, if you’re impressed with his story, and maybe that’s what makes you snap. Maybe you have a sudden revelation, like a lightning bolt out of the sky.

Maybe Richie keeps telling you these stories because he wants to impress you. Maybe his close-talking, his mild pet names for you, his light touches as he walks past you…maybe you understand it all in a split second. Maybe it took a mild Chicago night, a quiet moment out back broken by this man who glances at you shyly to see how his story is landing.

So you snap. You reach out one hand and gather a fistful of his navy blue t-shirt, and you haul him halfway to you. You meet him the rest of the way, and the man is still talking when you kiss him. It happens that fast.

Which makes the kiss awkward for a split second. You’ve caught him unawares, mid-sentence, and your mouth stills his words. He freezes for the split second it takes him to catch up to what’s happening, but then he kisses you back. He tastes like cigarettes, and beneath that you can taste vanilla, and you smile because you can guess that he’d been sneaking into Marcus’s area and helping himself to the cakes Marcus had been working on all day.

But it’s quiet again. You’ve stoppered Richie’s words, and the earlier calm would fall over you if your heart wasn’t hammering in your chest at what you’ve done.

It’s Richie who breaks the kiss. After a long beat of silence, a long moment of your mouth on his, the shyest bit of deepening the kiss—opening your mouth against his, breathing him in, but not any further than that. He breaks the kiss but doesn’t move very far from you, and when you look at him, you can see his bright blue eyes staring at you.

“What, uh…” He clears his throat in that embarrassed way he has. “What was that for?”

“You talk too much,” you tell him.

“Thought you liked my stories.”

“I do. Ninety percent of the time, I love your stories.”

“And the other ten percent?”

“I just wanted a bit of quiet. It was a long day.”

You release your grip on his shirt, and you see where you’ve stretched the fabric. You try to smooth it out, run your hand over his upper chest where you grabbed him, and the gesture makes him huff out a heavy breath. The realization of what you’ve done washes over you, and suddenly you feel horrified. It would have been less embarrassing to have snapped at him all those months ago, slapped him or yelled in his face. Instead, you kissed him, and now he’s staring at you with those blue eyes…

“Sorry,” you mutter. “I shouldn’t have—”

He’s gentler when he stills your words with his mouth. He doesn’t haul you to him by your shirt; instead, he wraps a gentle hand around the back of your neck and steadies you as he leans in. As he kisses you. His lips are soft against yours—it’s the softest kiss you’ve ever received in your life, and from someone like Richie Jerimovich who stumbles through his own life like a bull in a china shop. Who knew he could be so careful?

You break the second kiss, and you try to find some words—to finish your apology to him, to say something cool or funny to break the spell of the moment—but Richie hushes you. He doesn’t let you get any more words out, and he pulls you closer to him. He wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you against him, and then you feel him press a kiss against the top of your head as he tucks you against him.

“Don’t say anything,” he tells you in his low voice. “Let’s just have a bit of quiet, then.”

The two of you sit in silence, letting the sounds of the city fill in the quiet between you. Except for your own heart, hammering in your ears. And except for Richie’s heart, beating right under your ear in the same, excited cadence.

#richie jerimovich #richie jerimovich x reader #richie jerimovich x you #richie jerimovich imagine #the bear #tropes and tales

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ageingfangirl2 · 5 months

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Imagine Being Bonten's Receptionist (Bonten x F Reader) - Tokyo Revengers

FIRST DAY/INTRODUCTIONS

Bonten is Tokyo's most notorious crime syndicate but has an office like any respectable business. even if it was a front. Each member had an office, there were a couple of meeting rooms, and they even had other staff who like you were sworn to secrecy or face deadly consequences. The pay was better than any other place you'd interviewed at, and the hours were reasonable, but you were expected to be flexible if needed to come in early or stay later.

The reception area had a few sofas and tables, and your counter was the first thing you saw when you got off the lift. You couldn't actually enter the offices behind you unless you had a key card or you buzzed them in. It would be quite lonely out here on your own or so you thought.

Hajime Kokonoi had hired you, he said it was because you looked trustworthy, and of course, you made a joke that he'd probably had your background checked. He told you to your face he had and you were the most worthy applicant. When you pushed for more he sealed his lips. On your first day, he put a very nice vase of flowers on the reception counter stating it gave the place more life, but it was a bouquet of your favourite flowers. So you thanked him and he said it was nothing, even though a couple of flowers had to be imported. You heard he was stingy with money.

You were typing away when Takeomi Akashi walked out of the offices with an unlit cigarette between his lips not noticing your presence, because he was busy cussing the lighter that wasn't working. 'Excuse me, let me help you,' you call out, grab the lighter from your bag and walk over to him. 'Who are you?' he asks confused, and you explain as you light the cigarette. 'Thank you, you smoke?' he enquires and you shake your head, and explain your friends do and on nights out you'd rather them come to you than a stranger. 'Smart girl, never smoke.' Takeomi now knew who to come to when his lighter wouldn't work.

Kakucho walks out of the lift on his phone, 'good morning,' you say politely. The poor man jumps out of his skin and nearly drops his phone on the marble floor. You apologise profusely for scaring him and his face gets a little redder the more you talk to him. It's not lost on you that he's not so subtly checking you out, in fact, you find it kind of cute when he should be intimidating. 'Nice to meet you, err I have to go,' he stutters and makes a quick escape into the offices. At the end of the day, he introduces himself properly, telling you if you need anything you can call him. It had been a while since a guy had given you his number.

Word spread by lunchtime about the new hire and that's when you met the Haitani brothers Ran and Rindou. Hajime had warned you to be on your guard, you were innocent and the brothers would try to taint you. 'hello beautiful, I have a reason to come into the office more now,' Ran croons, leaning over the counter staring at you with lustful eyes. You sit up straight, 'it's nice to meet you, but nothing's going to happen.' Ran looks hurt while his brother laughs, 'Maybe you're not as much of a charmer as you think brother. Call me Rindou.' and you're shocked when he takes your hand and kisses it. You would almost believe he was a gentleman if he didn't have the same lustful eyes as his brother. You smile and remove your hand from his, 'I don't know what game you two are playing but it won't be easy. I've been warned.' the brothers exchange a look and huff, 'Koko,' they say in unison. You nod and go back to your computer. Little did you know that your rejection ignited a challenge between the brothers to see who could win you over first.

After the Haitani brothers, you thought you'd be left alone but there were a couple of cocky male employees who thought they could flash expensive suits and watches while being drenched in overpowering cologne. Unlike the brothers these two immediately violated your personal space making you feel uncomfortable, 'can you leave me alone please?' you ask, 'get away from me,' you insist. One of the men goes to grab your arm 'Know your place bitch--' when he's grabbed himself and thrown backwards. Kanji Mochizuki stands guard in front of you, 'the lady said no, just wait until the boss here's about this.' Then men scurry off scared by the threat. He turns to face you with a warm smile, 'Sorry about that, they won't cause you any more problems. Give me a shout if anyone else makes you feel uncomfortable.' you weren't quite sure what to make of him, but you just got your second number of the day.

Hajime or Koko as he told you to call him asked you to stay late to accept a parcel for another member. This is where you met Bonten's no.2 Haruchiyo Sanzu and the leader Manjiro Sano. You were taken aback seeing Sanzu covered in blood while Mikey didn't seem to have a single scratch on him, both looked equally intimidating and you didn't want to get on either of their bad sides. You gulp and look down at the parcel you'd not long signed for seeing it was addressed to Sanzu, 'good evening I have a parcel for Haruchiyo Sanzu.' both men stare at you, Sanzu looks manic while Mikey looks bored. 'Thank you, lovely lady, pink looks good on you,' Sanzu chuckles and takes the parcel before skipping into the office. You brush imaginary creases off your light pink blouse, 'well I guess I'll be going then, have a good night sir,' you pick up your bag, turn off the monitor and stand up noticing Mikey hadn't moved his eyes from you, 'are you okay sir?' you ask. He blinks a couple of times, 'Yes, get home safe,' you nod and press the lift button, feeling a little uneasy having Mikey continue to stare at you.

When you returned to your apartment you threw yourself on the bed thinking about your interesting first day of work, and all the Bonten members you'd interacted with. This was going to be an interesting job.

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botanicalsword · 8 months

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Indicators for “it’s impossible to ignore you ♡ ” • Astro placements

Harmonious aspect between Sun and Jupiter

Sun conjunct Jupiter + Jupiter in Sagittarius/ Pisces / Cancer

Chart Ruler in 10H + Harmonious aspect with personal planet

Personal planets in 2H / 4H / 10H

Venus in Libra, Asc in Libra w/o challenging aspects

Venus in Leo w/o challenging aspects

Harmonious aspect between Venus and Jupiter

Sun/ Moon / Venus / Jupiter in 11H + Harmonious aspect

11H Ruler in 1H / 4H/ 7H / 10H

11H ruled by a domiciled planet

Chart ruler in 11H / 2H

5H ruler in 11H

Harmonious aspect between Venus and Jupiter

Harmonious aspect between 2H and 5H and 11H (rulers / planets)

✧✧✧✧

Harmonious aspect between Sun and Jupiter - wisdom and compassion

They have a captivating aura that attracts people and ensures their safety. They remain calm, never losing their composure. Their wisdom and kindness secure respect and support from everyone, regardless of the location or situation.

they tend to handle difficulties actively. When faced with difficulties or troublesome situations, those with a positive outlook tend to actively work to find solutions. They don't face major issues often, but smaller problems help them improve.

Easy success can dampen motivation, while challenges fuel drive. Even conflicts can be beneficial. Handling minor frustrations early fosters resilience. A blend of support and issues prevents complacency and maintains goal pursuit.

✧

Sun conjunct Jupiter + Jupiter in Sagittarius/ Pisces / Cancer - they are defined by their cheerful outlook on life. With a harmonious astrological aspect boosting their mood, they tend to see the positive side in any situation. People enjoy their energy and smile easily in their presence. Their can-do attitude also helps opportunities come their way. Their natural luck maximizes when paired with practical wisdom about ups and downs.

✧

Chart Ruler in 10H + Harmonious aspect with personal planet - They are strong, can handle high pressures and challenges, and stay resilient in adversity.

✧

Personal planets in 2H / 4H / 10H - Coming from a wealthy family background, receiving strong support from their loving family circle.

Growing up with financial security provides a solid foundation for success. Their chill, can-do attitude lets their skills and talents to thrive in the work sphere. Recognized for contributions, opportunities come readily - good stuff just seems to find them.

With a little help and faith from the family, they keep their confidence sky high. No sweat, they can handle any bumps in the road.

✧

Venus in Libra, Asc in Libra w/o challenging aspects - elegance and nobility. their gentle temperament makes people feel very comfortable and intimate.

✧

Venus in Leo w/o challenging aspects -When everyone is watching, they stand amidst a vibrant light show, feeling incredibly classy. It's as if they have a unique filter making them look even better. The show is extraordinary, and all eyes are on them. The audience may express approval, jealousy, or admiration, but they accept it all. Because this is their stage, and they are the star of the show.

✧

Harmonious aspect between Venus and Jupiter - Their financial success and enjoyable experiences are like eye-catching flowers. They display their wealth and easily gather attention. It's not just about getting rich, but also about having an impact. They're charmers, kind of like how flowers pull in bees. Living like this, they stand out from the crowd, just like a blooming flower in a field of grass.

✧

Sun/ Moon / Venus / Jupiter in 11H + Harmonious aspect

11H Ruler in 1H / 4H/ 7H / 10H

11H ruled by a domiciled planet

Chart ruler in 11H / 2H

5H ruler in 11H

The 11th house is closely about forming friendships and spending time with your community. It primarily represents popularity and online traffic, both of which are crucial factors. As a social media influencer possess strong likability, their content will attract a larger audience, and they'll attract more views, leading to more clicks. Traffic is also a significant indicator of success in the realm of social media. All of this bodes well for them seeking exposure on their journey as social media creators.

✧

Harmonious aspect between Venus and Jupiter - Venus, as a symbol of aesthetics, grants us a unique perception and appreciation of beauty, enabling us to seek and create elements of beauty in our daily lives.

Jupiter, as a symbol of opportunities and expansion, provides us with the ability to seize opportunities and amplify our influence in the digital age. These abilities are not limited to the physical world; they extend into the digital realm, allowing us to share our creations and ideas with a wider audience through the power of the internet.

✧

Harmonious aspect between 2H and 5H and 11H (rulers / planets) - There will be a more direct relationship between wealth, traffic, and creativity. This means that wealth not only depends on our efforts but also on our ability to create compelling content and generate a significant amount of traffic. The value of such content will be more prominently recognized, and their wealth will more accurately reflect their creative abilities.

The more traffic and creativity they generate, the more wealth they will accumulate. The key is to invest effort in creating exceptional content that attracts a lot of viewers. The value of their content will be recognized appropriately, and the income they earn will accurately reflect their talent.

✧✧✧✧

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pedgito · 3 months

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𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 | Francisco Morales x reader

summary | working your summer job you find yourself fawning over a boy you barely know, realizing by the end of the summer that letting go of him may not be the best idea.

content warning | young!frankie morales, reader is working in bar (if there’s some things wrong, just know i tried fjsjsj), background tf boys, phone texts, inebriated hook ups (frankie is a lil drunk but he’s okay i swear) smut out the wazoo, oral (m/f receiving, protecting p in v, hints of voyeurism, idk let me live in this dream pls

word count — 7.5k

The bar was supposed to be easy cash, a second job you picked up during the summer, between the interim of your final year of college and the beginning of your life—just some extra money to keep you afloat amongst the drowning seas of tuition debt. But, the job came with unexpected challenges—rude customers, drunk customers, (given that you worked in a bar you really couldn’t fault them) but it was the rowdy ones that really got under your skin. And you quickly learned the unspoken schedule of customers as they made their weekly round for a few drinks, some over-fried bar food, and a game of darts or pool.

Monday through Wednesday were some of your more favorite days, friendlier people who liked to visit earlier in the day before the bar got packed after sunset, some relaxed chit chat and a beer or two. They tipped very nicely, too.

Thursday was the slowest of the week, co-workers sliding in to catch a game of pool or watch some sports game on the old, ratty television tucked in the corner area of the bar, even with you squinting your eyes it was still barely visible and they almost always left the biggest messes at their table—but again, you couldn’t complain when it was only a few tables you had to scrub down.

Friday was always busy, the weekends just as bad—from open to close you were shuffling around behind the bar, in tune with your co-workers as you moved around each other. You knew some people by name and some would politely remind you—you saw about a hundred different faces every week, some were bound to slip through the cracks.

But, within your first week there, you found a particular group of boys would show up every Friday without fail—a few rounds of beers, a mountain of wings and fries and whatever else they could get their hands on, and a game or two of darts and a pool table they had just to themselves.

The charmer, Santiago, was the first to introduce himself.

A crisp hundred dollar bill slipped over in advance with a softer tone, “I’m apologizing in advance, they tend to get a little, uh, loud.” It wasn't the right word, but you smiled nonetheless, still checking the money behind the counter in case he tried to slide you a fake and mask it with a simple courtesy that wasn't shown often. Kindness.

You start their tab, grab their orders, and within twenty minutes their voices are already booming over the rest and arguing about a stupid game of darts, three other boys crowded around Santiago as their faces are within an inch of the board, fingers pointing all over.

There is a straggler, though—a man who’s similar in age to most of the boys, late twenties maybe? He had to be close to your age or just a little older but the sodden expression on his face made him feel much older, sipping at the round of beers you had brought by as soon as Santiago headed back for the table.

They call him Catfish, whatever that means—and it seems like they all have nicknames for each other and you wanted to ask, but it didn’t seem worth it. Your Rolodex of names in your head was already bursting at its seams and Santiago was the only one you could bother to remember, especially when he’s sliding over a chunk of cash in advance rather than blowing up his tab and then scrambling to pay.

For a few weeks it’s just that. They come in, Santiago pays, and then they spend a few hours in the back of the bar arguing like boys, rather than men. But, they always leave you a hefty tip when they don’t fill out their tab or when they go over and pay it out and then some.

And naturally, you’re curious. About them. About him.

So, when Catfish comes in on a Saturday night completely alone, that curiosity does get the better of you.

He doesn’t make much of a scene, sliding into the bar stool instead of taking up a table, and seeing how busy it is, he waits—quietly and with a faint smile on his face that you catch a few times in passing, refilling cups with ice and offering a polite smile back.

When you finally get to him you're slightly breathless, wiping your hands on the towel tucked into your back pocket, “Hey, sorry about—what can I get you?”

“Just a beer,” He says with a shrug, promptly sliding over a twenty as you pour and hand off the glass.

“Where’s the others?” You ask curiously, an attempt at casual conversation despite selfishly wanting to know.

“A party,” Fish explains, “Benny won his tournament so they’re celebrating that.”

The name sounds familiar but you can’t quite place it.

“The younger one,” He adds with a subtle smirk, seeing the furrow in your brow of you thinking too hard.

“So Benny, Santiago—but you get stuck with Catfish?”

It can’t be his actual name, but they never use anything else.

“Francisco,” He takes a generous sip of his beer before setting it down, tapping his fingers idly against the surface of the bar, “—but, just Frankie. If that’s easier.”

You tilt your head with a genuine smile, putting a name to a face and it feels fitting, the hat suffocating his mop of hair, curls peeking around the edge of his hat and the dark colored tees he always wore, some sort of dismay always written on his face. You can’t explain it, but it works for him.

Frankie. Francisco. Catfish.

“Well, Frankie—if you need anything just yell. That’s probably the only way I’ll hear you,” You tell him with a laugh before attempting to depart—the bar isn’t too bad at the moment, all customers dealt with but the roar of the bar is loud.

“Well—wait,” Frankie half shouts, grabbing your attention, “what’s your name? I gave you mine, seems fair to ask.”

You tell him with a shrug, “But, I only ever hear honey or sweetheart all night, so really, I’m whatever you want me to be.”

Frankie chuckles at that, looking away briefly as if to busy his mind with something else and you slip away then.

You don’t ask why he came alone—why he would skip out on a party with the men he came here every Friday night with—maybe he needed a break. Alone time. It wasn’t your business.

But, one Saturday becomes another. And two months later he’s come by every Saturday. Alone. And giving you his undivided attention. It’s sweet, you’ll admit that.

He isn’t as closed off on Friday’s when he arrives with the other boys but isn’t as outwardly friendly as say, Santiago would be during that time. But, Saturdays—he’s a whole different person. Lighter. Happier.

He only ever orders one beer, makes small talk, and lately—he’s been walking you to your car. So, not only is he nursing that beer over the four hours left in your shift by the time he gets there, he’s waiting for you. To clock out, that is.

Really, it’s against your better judgment. Allowing a total stranger to know what you drive, where you park, what time your shift ends, but Frankie is a… friend.

He isn’t like most of the customers, terrible at small talk and flirting and only making half-assed, nasty comments toward you when they get a few rounds in.

He’s seen it a few times. He never berates the guys, but he does pull your attention away, occupies your mind, and always manages to slip in a few words that make your legs go weak and encourage the dull throb between your thighs—even if it’s just a smile and an apology on their behalf.

Frankie always shows interests, ask about you and your life in the politest way he can without seeming like a complete creep—you can tell he doesn’t flirt often, by the way he’s quiet around his friends when you stop by their table or how he never asks for your number despite twirling his phone in his hands idly most of the night, trying to seem occupied but mostly staring at a blank screen until he finally gains the courage to ask you another question.

The first night he walks you to your car it’s quick—he stays until you close up for the night and walks around back, a careful and watchful eye on your surroundings as he nods and wishes you goodnight with a half-hearted smile, kicking himself in the ass for not just asking for your number.

And it continues like that for weeks, within those couple months, and gradually Frankie bursts out of his shell little by little until you both are giggling one night over a particularly rowdy customer, having gotten himself arrested for indecent exposure and broken a table.

His hand grazes your lower back as you walk out, a genuine mistake but you turn your head toward him quickly, soothing his worries with a smile as you stick the key into the lock.

“Don’t worry about it,” You tell him with a comforting tone, “I’m used to men being a little more handsy than that, so, if anything, you’re a gentleman.”

“Those aren’t men.” Frankie argues lightheartedly.

“Eh, men who act like boys,” You say, “they’re assholes either way you put it.”

Frankie nods, readjusting his cap on his head as he pushes his fingers through his hair.

You twist the keys in your hand and start the walk toward your car.

“Do you ever take that thing off?”

Frankie’s eyes dart up toward the hat and he chuckles, hidden under the scruff and grown out facial hair, “No. No, not really.”

“Would you do it if I asked you to?”

He contemplates but never gives you a straight answer, forcing you to prod him gently with the end of your key, “Don’t worry—I won’t. Not yet.”

Frankie’s fingers curl around the edge of your door as he holds it open and watches you climb in, mind swimming with a million ways to ask what he wants, but it never comes.

But, you see it on his face immediately, the caution behind his eyes in being so forward with you.

“Ask for it,” You tell him, turning on the ignition to your car, still looking at him as he looms between you and the car door, “—unless you want to make me ask.”

Frankie looks away briefly and you laugh softly at his sudden unabashed expression as he smiles and turns back to you, “Can I have your number?”

You hold your hand out in wait, thumbing in your number the moment the phone finds your palm. You send yourself a short text with a smiley face to make sure it goes through and hand it back over, feeling a sudden flutter of anxiety in your chest.

Not good, not bad—but it is something.

“Put it to good use,” You warn him, “don’t make me regret that.”

Frankie smiles wider that time, his teeth peeking out behind full lips.

“Right,” He agrees, “absolutely. I promise.”

He adds a soft goodnight and you depart, feeling your phone buzz again before you even pull out of the parking lot.

[Unknown Number]: Goodnight

You snort a quiet laugh to yourself.

An hour later, a toothbrush tucked into your cheek as you stare down at your phone when it vibrates. You had half the mind to save his number despite your exhaustion from the shift you worked.

[Frankie]: Home safe?

[You]: Yep. :) Thank you for checking on me

[Frankie]: :) Goodnight.

[Frankie]: Again lol.

It’s stupid—it shouldn’t make you smile. But, it does.

You quickly find every day occupied by Frankie in some form, through text or just the thought of him. He’s everywhere and you can’t seem to care—and you give up sleep in the middle of the night for text conversations that come from just wanting to hear from him, as nervous as you are to just call—you could, you knew he wouldn’t care. But, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

You try to learn as much as you can about him.

[You]: Why Catfish?

It’s a random Tuesday when the text comes through his phone. He’s busy in class, cramming himself in as many hours as possible before he tests for his pilot license.

[Frankie]: Long story. Obnoxiously long. Why?

[You]: Just curious. It’s a strange nickname

[Frankie]: So what does that make me?

Frankie doesn’t get a response for a while and he knows you’re probably working, but he finds his fingers reaching for his pocket any time his phone vibrates in the hopes that it’s you.

[You]: Sorry. There was a mess at work.

[You]: It makes you strange btw

[You]: I’m kidding. But, it’s still a weird nickname.

Frankie can tell it’s you from the constant buzzing and he takes a peek at his phone.

[Frankie]: Oh shit. How bad of a mess?

[Frankie]: I know. Maybe I can explain it another time.

You’re busy wiping the beer off your face as you look at his text, the security dragging out the guy who had splashed the glass of liquid back at your face.

[You]: Some asshole threw a beer at me. Nothing new. Clothes are soaked.

[You]: Don’t try to make a joke about that or I’m double charging you this Friday.

Frankie frowns at the implication that you think he’s first instinct is to make a joke at your expense, but you can’t help to protect yourself from the behavior you’re used to from most men.

[Frankie]: Do you need me to bring you something? I can stop by on my way home?

[You]: I’ll survive. Thank you, though. My shift is almost over.

A couple days later you end up going down a fireshot line of questioning to get to know him, much to his surprise.

[You]: Okay. Birthday?

[Frankie]: April 2nd.

He returns the question to which you answer but add on another text with a joke at his expense.

[You]: Damn, a day short and that would be perfect for you. So, you’re an Aries.

[Frankie]: Yeah, whatever that means.

You laugh to yourself, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth as you walk through your local grocery store to pick up items for dinner that night.

[You]: It fits you. Oh! What do you do for work?

[You]: Fair game since you know what I do.

[Frankie]: We’re all in the army. I work on aircraft.

Oh, that’s…not what you were expecting.

[Frankie]: It’s new. I’m trying to get my pilot's license right now. I’ve got a big test coming up for it.

[You]: That’s so cool! Take me for a ride sometime?

You smirk to yourself as you press send.

[Frankie]: Yes.

You look ridiculous smiling at your phone in the middle of the aisle but you can’t help it.

In the army. A pilot. And a gentleman? Or, at least he’s provided himself to be nice enough. You were both young, so it didn’t surprise you that you were both unluckily single. But, Frankie seemed like such a catch—and it terrified you how badly you wanted him. Even in the simplest form.

A friend, a best friend, even. Or more, definitely more. But, you didn’t mind either way.

He’s due to take the test for his pilot license the Monday after your last shift, showing up with the boys on that Friday before—typical routine and behavior, but he does seem a bit more handsy. Santiago has always been friendly, but he does hug you this time he sees you, catching you on the way back to the bar and he plants a kiss on your cheek that you welcome with a soft, playful shove of your hand at his face and if it strikes Frankie with jealousy, you don’t notice.

But, he does shock you when he wraps an arm around your front and hugs you lazily, haphazardly slumping his other arm over your shoulder as he plants a kiss in your the hair at the crown on your head and rubs your hip with his thumb, leaving you dumbstruck and wanton the rest of your shift, frazzled every time you glance his way.

Santiago orders a round of shots toward the end of the night and thanks you with a wink, departing for the table and interrupting the idle conversation the men were entranced in.

You’re not sure what was going on, wiping down the counter as the night slowed down and casually flicking your eyes up to check on them, hearing them laugh occasionally, glancing your way briefly and suddenly Frankie was headed your way, fiddling around with the brim of his hat as he pressed a forearm against the countertop you had just wiped down.

You snap him gently with the towel and give him a look, he backs away slightly, hovering over the edge of the counter.

“What’s up?”

“They’re a bunch of dicks, I’m sorry.” Frankie deflected, glancing back at the boys who were staring on with sated smirks, clearly enjoying the sight of him fumbling and dropping the ball as he spoke to you. His eyes flick up wearily, soft and so distinct to him that it makes your heart ache. “Pope—Santiago, he dared me to come over and kiss you. And it’s stupid but if I didn’t at least try I would never hear the end–”

You pull him in by the collar of his shirt, the brim of his hat being pushed askew by the force as you press your lips to his in a simple, but unmistakable kiss. Tilting your head slightly as you pull away briefly to kiss him once more, dropping your towel to push your fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck and it seems like his brain catches up too late, his fingers barely grazing your neck as you pull away.

You pointedly look around Frankie to flip the other three off with both hands.

“Get out of here,” You warn playfully, “before I murder one of them.”

Frankie huffs a soft laugh through his nose before he turns away, speechless.

They were out of there within a few minutes, but an hour later your lips were still tingling.

Frankie is different that Saturday—more energetic, seeming lighter and more playful.

He drinks one beer, then two, surprisingly a couple shots of tequila—and before you know it, you’re seeing a much different side of Frankie than you're used to and it is quite the sight.

“Am I cutting you off?” You ask curiously, “I don’t want you nursing a hangover tomorrow when you have your test on Monday.”

“One more,” Frankie promises, “but—surprise me?”

You shrug, not finding a problem with it.

“Sweet or savory?” You ask him.

You feel your breath catch slightly as he pauses, his eyes doing a subtle drag over your body as you take a couple steps back, reaching for an empty glass.

“Sweet.”

It has an underlying tension to it neither of you address.

You make something up on the fly—fruity and sweet with the slightest bit of tang, nothing that screams Frankie but when you set it down in front of him and he drinks, his eyes widen slightly.

And for half a second you think he might spit it out, but then he’s chugging the rest down—and maybe it’s alcohol dulling his taste buds but he makes a quick show of assuring you he liked it, even if it’s mostly for your own benefit.

Shaking his head as he licks at his lips with his tongue in a way that feels so unnecessary that you can’t help but giggle, snatching the empty glass away from him as he smiles, his eyes half-lidded from the faint buzz he has going on, but otherwise he still seems fine.

You couldn’t let him get that drunk, not when he had so much riding on that test.

By the end of the night, your side hurts from laughing so much, forceably having to shove your hand in Frankie’s face to get him to shut up for half a second, his fingers circling around your wrist as he pulls you forward and you giggle into his shoulder.

“Stay. Let me close up and we can walk through the back.” You tell him and he nods quietly, though his grin never fades, his thumb brushing over his bottom lip idly while he watches you work around the clutter and reorganize, cleaning everything down before you’re flicking off the lights and nodding at him to follow.

If it were anyone else, you’d have given them a stiff kick to the balls and sent them on their way, but the moment Frankie noses at your neck your hard resolve melts and you shrug him away at how much it tickles your skin, feeling his hand wrap around the bicep on your left arm. He’s never been so touchy but you can’t say you don’t enjoy it. In fact, you’re eating it up at this point.

“Frankie,” You warn him playfully, working and failing to lock the door as uses his other hand to squeeze at your side, “come on—I can’t lock up with you doing that.”

“Try,” He teases, challenges, and you can’t help but like the bolder, less restrained side of himself he’s offering up to you.

The gentle nuzzling quickly turns to kisses, wet and open mouthed as he practically drapes himself over you, one hand pressed into the brick wall beside the backdoor and you sigh softly, leaning into his chest as you finally get the door locked and shrug him away.

“Am I going to see you next week?” He asks hopefully, knowing that with August looming in the distance that your job at the bar was close to being nullified.

You shake your head with a bittersweet smile, “Tomorrow is my last day, actually. For now, anyway.”

Frankie’s brow furrows at that and he shakes his head slightly before he’s invading your space, hands cupping your face as he lifts your chin up to meet your lips and kisses you gently, your fingers coming up to curls around his forearms and you feel his lips part just as you pull away.

“What—what are you doing?” You ask him, feeling like an echo as he comes back to the surface with a delayed response, trying to kiss you again but you're pressing your fingertips over his lips until he realizes that you actually want an answer.

“I’ve wanted you all summer,” He admits and it makes your blood run hot, that distinct tingle of pleasure shooting down your spine and it is nothing you were expecting him to say, but tonight was full of surprises apparently, “do I need to prove it to you?”

He presses his forehead against your own and you shake your head in response. You believed him, you didn’t doubt him for a second—but it feels surreal. Those quick, fleeting summer flings you only hear about in passing, never expecting to experience it yourself.

You may never see him again, you had to strike the match while it was still in reach.

“Are there cameras back here?” Frankie asks hastily.

You snort, “No—we’re five minutes away from college dorms in the poorest part of town. People come here for cheap booze, not security.”

Frankie nods at that, “You’re right,” He responds but the end is muffled as he kisses you again, with less care and a lot more tongue as you open your mouth to him and find the words on your tongue are muffled by his.

And thank god the street lights were shit in the back alley, barely working amongst the occasional flicker, you eventually find your way in the darkened corner of the back alley with Frankie’s hand working at the button on your jeans, almost tripping over an overturned crate on the way there that causes you both to burst into a fit of giggles, laughing through the sloppy kisses Frankie can’t help but smother you with, sighing when his fingers dip past the denim and thin fabric underwear to cup your pussy with his entire hand, the warmth of his palm like an answered prayer.

His hat is frustrating though, constantly bumping and prodding at your head before you finally get fed up, plucking it off his head and tossing it to the ground with an annoyed sigh that forces a choked laugh from Frankie’s throat, dipping a finger down the center of your core before pressing inside of you, gasping at the sudden but welcomed intrusion. You release a shaky sigh and open your eyes to look at him, finding he’s plenty amused but still buzzed in his own way.

Half beer, half pleasure—but he looks like he wants to devour you.

Lucky for you, he was starving.

Your mouth hangs open slightly, breathing picking up as he angles his fingers and slips another inside, curling them toward you from within and you pull at the curls at the nape of his neck.

He smirks in amusement, “Wish you could see how needy you look,” Frankie comments, “all it took was a couple fingers, huh?”

You roll your eyes playfully, “Too bad it took you all summer,” You pester him as he picks up the intensity, using his other hand to push your jeans lower down your hips, “and some stupid fuckin’ drink to make you finally want to have sex with.”

“Sex?” Frankie jokes through a throaty chuckle, “Who said anything about—”

Your hand cups the front of his jeans firmly, a little harsher than necessary but you can tell he doesn’t mind, almost challenging you to tease him a little more but the moment you both hit a solid wall you’re tripping over each other’s feet and it pulls you back to the surface and despite your clothes being half-stripped away and Frankie’s hand still shoved down the front of your jeans, it brings back a surprising amount levity to assess the situation at hand.

“I mean, do you want to?” You ask him curiously, tucking a curl behind his ear as he blinks, considering how this would affect his relationship with you, as brief and fleeting as it was.

“You’re really asking me that?” He responds, “Of course.”

“Well, I mean you did just say—”

Frankie places his palm over your mouth, muffling the end of your sentence.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He deflects, hoping you’ll play along.

You work at his belt without hesitation, far over the small talk and tired of wasting time. Frankie pulls his hand away much to your disappoint, pouting slightly as he drag his hand up your stomach, under your shirt until he’s got it tucked under your chin and mouthing of your bra greedily, the fingers of his other hand peeking around the fabric to pull it down, taking the soft, pebbled nipple into his mouth and sucking with a satisfied groan as you dip your hand beyond his waistband and over his boxers, pulled tight against his thighs and groin. You could picture the sight of him in your mind for hours if you wanted, but you had him here, right here.

Why not give yourself a peek at the real thing?

Frankie is lost, deep within the exploration of your body that he doesn’t even hear your voice when you plead with him, his voice grazing over the delicate skin of your breasts as he pulls away, already ready to descend and yank your jeans the rest of the way down, press his face between your legs and feast on you like it was the best thing he’s tried all night.

But, there’s the pout again—so subtle he would miss it had he not finally given you his full, undivided attention and he was right. You are needy.

His thumb rubs at the small sliver of your lip that’s poking out, rocking his hips gently into the hand still tucked away into his jeans—there was such a distinct charm to him, melting under his gaze the second his eyes made contact with your own. Every time.

“I don’t wanna keep you,” You whine emphatically and Frankie almost immediately begins to shake his head—

No. No, of course not. You wouldn’t be keeping him at all. Not a chance, not a fuckin—his inner monologue is going wild but he finds you perking up at the slowly growing panic on his face.

“But,” You breath, the thumb that was resting at your bottom lip trailing down the valley of your breasts before he cups one gently in his hand, “I couldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t give you at least something to remember this.”

“Couldn’t forget about you if I tried, actually,” He begins, but you shake your head, shushing him and pushing his hand away before you sink to your knees despite the immediate protest in your knees at the hard gravel—but god was it fucking worth it when you look up, half-lidded eyes staring back as you shake his jeans down his hips, just far enough that you can watch as he does the work with his boxers, cock bobbing free as he settles the band underneath his balls and if has to look away by that point, overwhelmed in the way your eyes roam but you don’t speak, clearly admiring and seering this to memory as you smile cheekily, taking his cock in your hand and jerk him slowly, thumb running along the vein that follows to the head of his cock.

“Get off the floor,” He begs pathetically, “gonna tear your knees up doing that.”

You laugh quietly to yourself and slide your tongue along the head of his cock, dipping down the slit of his head and to his shaft, pulling back at the skin and taking him into your mouth fully. He’s uncircumcised, thick and perfect—he fills your mouth out so beautifully in all his girth that you wonder just how much better it can feel between your legs, filling you out in the best way.

“Oh, jesus—baby, that’s,” You hum, bobbing your head in constant rhythm as your work your free hand around his balls, cupping them and allowing your other hand to cover the rest of what your mouth couldn’t take of his length and Frankie looks like he might actually pass out, looking around desperately for something, anything to lean on before he just settles for the wall behind you, resting both of his palms against the brick as he towers over you.

Frankie sighs shakily, dropping a hand to tuck against the back of your head, and your stomach swirls with anticipation as he allows himself to break his restrain a little, guiding his cock into your mouth with little aide given how eager you were as you took him as far as you could go, brush your nose against the trimmed patch of hair at the base and feel his hand flex in your hair, gripping it tight and attempting to pull you off to no avail, repeating the process until he’s begging for you to slow down, give him just a few seconds to breathe, ultimately finding that you don’t stop until he finally finds his voice again, stuttering out a desperate, “Stop, stop, stop–”

You pull away suddenly, worrying crossing your face but quickly dissipating as Frankie laughs, pulling you to your feet without much fight on your part and he does notice the few scraps on your knees, collecting with blood and he really wishes you would have listened but you brush him off, his body pressing you up against the brick wall behind you, pants still hanging at his thighs and his dick pressed against your stomach, shirt still sloppily bunched up over your tits.

“Can I fuck you?” He asks, so vulgar it makes you pulse around absolutely nothing, his eyes roving over your face curiously, his thumb tracing over your lips, with a soft mumble, “God, I need you so bad.”

“My car,” You respond, tongue pressing against the pad of his fingertip as you nod behind him, “Condoms, they’re—in the car.”

Frankie makes a face, sort of amused but a little confused.

“Shut up,” You null his question before it slips out—”It’s precaution, okay? Guys love to pull the whole—”

“No, I—I get it,” Frankie answers, a small laugh rounding out his tone, “I just figured, you know—we’d…go back to your place? Or mine?”

Your hand fists into his shirt slowly, pulling him impossibly closer like he wasn’t already pressed against every surface of your body.

“What if I can’t wait?” Your eyes soften, looking up at him and catching the swipe of his tongue over his bottom lip, wanting to taste that tinge of sugar that lingers with him, “Would you fuck me right now?”

Frankie nods eagerly and you don’t hesitate, grabbing for his hat, placing it against his chest and gripping his hand in your own before you shove him away gently and lead him to your car, mostly covered in darkness aside from the obnoxiously orange streetlight that glowed overhead. Your clothes haphazardly pulled back up as you clamber into the driver's seat to reach over the console and into the glovebox, aware of the hand that slides between your leg as you search in the poor lighting, squealing when he squeezes at the flesh under his grip and shoving the foil wrapper into Frankie’s chest when you finally get your hand on the box.

“Off,” He tells you, pulling at the zipper of your jeans, “all the way.”

There was so much going on in your mind, nothing you could pluck out and focus on but it buzzed with excitement, anticipation, the kind of adrenaline that only comes in situations when your judgment is hasty and not fully-thought out. You’re barely kicking your shoes off and pulling your jeans past your ankle before Frankie is manhandling you into the backseat, and pressing his face between your thighs as he licks into you, a surprised gasp tearing from your throat as you grip the seats wherever you can.

Your pussy throbs under the care of his tongue, and he carries on obnoxiously, making a mess between your legs as his fingertips grip at the flesh of your ass and force you to open yourself wider to him, “Frankie—” You interject weakly, but he silences you with his mouth, sucking at your clit like it was his new obsession and you whine so pathetically that you find you covering your mouth in shame, biting gently at your bicep to muffle the flurry of sounds that came out after.

He pulls away some time later—minutes, hours, days, you can’t even place it. But, you hear him shift, the rip of the wrapper and the jingling of his belt as he shifts his jeans further down and slides into the backseat more comfortably, hovering over you. His hands squeezing at your hips, a comforting gesture as he speaks from behind you.

“Are you sure?”

It’s sweet, you can admit that. But, you don’t need that.

“Frankie.”

He wasn’t budging. Because, if by some sudden change of heart you didn’t want this, he wanted to know.

“Yes. Yes,” You say, turning slightly to look over your shoulder, his face only an inch or so away as you tuck your arm back and push your fingers into his hair, pulling his face next to yours as he pushes inside of you slowly, yanking gently at the strands between your fingers as he settles, a soft sigh falling from your lips.

“Let me hear you,” He begs, “It’s just us.”

He hears you all the time, voice carrying across the bar but never like this—for him, only for him.

He pulls back gently, snapping his hips firmly and you hum softly, slightly giddy over the entire situation. He continues that way, so gentle and cautious that it makes you wonder why you both avoided this for so long, “More?” Frankie asks. You nod and his pace quickens slightly, a little harsher, and your hand grips onto the passenger seat beside your head for leverage as he chest rumbles with a deep sigh, “Fuck this is—baby, you have no idea.”

“Tell me,” You plead, the quiet creak of the car drowned out by your loud, pathetic moans as Frankie’s fingers curl around your throat and hold, no pressing or squeezing, just another place for them to find a home.

“Thought about this—so many times,” He admits, “came here for months—fuck, months. And then you show up and I was nervous—couldn’t, couldn’t even think of what to say to you. I knew I’d embarrass myself in front of them.” He squeezes then, a gentle pressure on your throat that has your eyes rolling back in your head.

“I had to see you alone,” His throat is tight, his breath a little quicker as he speaks, his hips snapping into you at a steady pace that clouds your mind effortlessly, “wanted you for myself—and, I would’ve fucked you that first night if you’d let me.”

You cunt squeezes him tight at his words and he curses, “So greedy, baby. She’s drooling all over me—such a fucking mess,” And you need to see him, face the man who’s finally found just the right amount of confidence to make you speechless. You lean up suddenly and force a hand into his chest and he only looks slightly confused before you’re pulling him inside and forcing him to sit into the cramped back seat, uncaring of the open car door as the car rocks with the weight of your bodies and you seat yourself on his lap, gripping his dick in your hand and sinking back down onto him without a word, curling yourself over him as you push away the hair clinging to his forehead, damp from sweat and his eyes are blown wide, staring up at you like he was under hypnosis, gaze locked on your own.

“Tell me now,” You challenge him—nowhere to hide behind his words.

“Would you—have let me fuck you that one night I walked you to your car?” He asks.

You smile guiltily, remembering the heat of his hand on your back, never really an accident.

“I’d have let you fuck me over the pool table if you asked, Frankie.” You admit, “In front of your friends too, if that’s what you really wanted.”

Frankie laughs weakly, giving you the lead as you lift your hips with a sudden eagerness.

“Is that what you want?” You tease him, “You guys are all about claim, right? Army boys love to show off—I mean, they’d probably be into it. Santi, for sure—”

Frankie covers your mouth with his hand and you giggle, biting playfully at the flesh of his palm.

He squeezes at your hip with his free hand, forcing you into a hurried pace as he begins to move his hips to meet your own, lifting off the seat slightly with every snap of his hips. Your cry is muffled by his hand but Frankie sees it in your eyes, the flutter of your eyelashes that tells him.

“Touch yourself, babygirl,” He tells you, “Let’s see how bad you want it.”

You lean back between the open space of the driver and passenger seat, one hand gripping the upholstery of the seat while the other works between your legs, fingers drifting over your clit and into the mess of yourself that was leaking over Frankie’s cock from where it was buried inside of you and he wasn’t lying—you’ve never been so turned on in your life. Half-assed hook-ups and guys that didn’t give a shit about your own pleasure, Frankie was a goddamn dream and a hell of a good fuck.

You know your body well enough that it doesn’t take long, but the show is for Frankie’s benefit alone, head thrown back over your shoulders as your middle and ring finger circle your clit, occasionally wrapping your hand around what of his shaft was available as you tried weakly to move your hips, squeezing to pull a soft little gasp from his chest. It was such a damn shame you didn’t have him fully naked, splayed out on the mattress in your shitty apartment. You wanted to dig your nails into his skin, leave half crescent marks and a reminder of you for days, weeks even.

“Fuck, I’m right there, baby—” He warns, unexpectedly joining your own fingers and forcing you over the edge just before he pulls you in, a brutal snap of his hips before he’s muffling the deep groans of his orgasm into your skin, teeth sinking gently into your shoulder.

The next few minutes is spent in a blissful silence, moving off of him carefully as he discards the condom but never letting you drift to far, still curled up and half naked on his lap as he pushes a strand of hair away from your face, pulling you in for a kiss that takes your breath away, literally pulls from your chest and makes your heart stop.

Oh…this was not good.

You breathe shakily and pull away with a smile that masks that sudden ache in your chest and kiss again at the inside of his palm. He leans his head against the backseat, eyes closed as he catches his breath and groans slightly when you move off of him, oblivious and exhausted as you redress hastily beside him, pulling your jeans back up your legs and over your hips, slipping your shoes on and readjusting your shirt, shaking him gently when you fear he might have passed out right there in the back of your car.

“Frankie,” You call out, saying his name a few more times before you call out, one last time, “Francisco, hey.”

His eyebrows raise in question, a subtle smile on his lips as he peeks an eye open to look at you.

“I really need to get home,” You tell him, laughing half-heartedly at his drunken stupor, “you’ve gotta go.”

Frankie seems to realize then that he can’t drag this out any longer, redressing himself slowly as he climbs out of the car, watching you fiddle with your shirt and your appearance, trying to not look like you just got fucked in the backseat of your car.

He seems to notice the slight dismay on your face, knowing that your lives were diverting down different paths, but this was still the present. Now. And he was still here.

He presses you into the driver’s side door and kisses you then, hands crawling up the side of your neck and caressing the curve of it, dipping his tongue past your lips and really stealing your breath away, moaning into your mouth like you were the greatest thing he’s ever tasted.

You pull away regrettably when you feel him start to ramp up again, “Good luck on your test, by the way.” You tell him honestly, “You can text me the good news when you pass.”

Frankie chuckles, “I will.” There’s a long pause and then he’s speaking again, the few words you weren’t sure you wanted to hear, “Can I see you again?”

The hesitance is obvious on your face and it kicks Frankie down a peg, but he gets it. He wasn’t a boyfriend, barely even a friend. But, he was still hopeful.

“Maybe.” You offer, “I mean—you still have my number. I’m just a text or call away, you know.”

Frankie couldn’t admit that you were the only thing getting him through this summer without relapsing or making another misstep, that wasn’t your burden. But, the weight on his heart is heavy and his own to bear, welcoming the hug you offer him immediately and squeezing you so tight you might break, but of course, you don’t.

And he thinks that if he showed up broken, in pieces, that you would know exactly how to piece him back together, but he hoped that never happened. That maybe you might manage to escape him and he wouldn’t drag you down with him.

“Goodbye, Frankie.”

He smiles and nods, settling his hat back on his head as he steps away.

You leave soon after, not sure why this sudden dark cloud is looming over you.

Frankie never texts you about his test and the texts you send in the aftermath are never responded to—and eventually you give up, feeling like an idiot for being hopeful in the first place.

↝ beta: @chaotic-mystery

↝ divider credit: yours truly.

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x y/n #francisco morales smut #frankie morales smut #francisco morales #frankie morales fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fic #triple froniter #my writing

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skipper1331 · 9 months

Text

Ice rink // Leah Williamson

a/n: based off this request. Hope you like it!

Leah had a plan. It’s genius, so would she tell.

She would take you on a date but not just any date - a winter date. She knew you loved winter and everything about it.

Your eyes lit up at the slightest sign of snow, you started baking (even though you couldn‘t bake), mandarins became your to-go snack (at least one eaten a day) and whatever you did Christmas themed music was playing in the background. Winter was your favorite time of the year and Leah had made it her mission to make it even more special.

"Special date night, tonight, I’m picking you up at six" the blonde smiled brightly, peppering kisses to your cheek as you walked towards the changing room.

"Where are you taking me?" you asked, a blush covering your cheeks.

"For me to know, for you to find out" she replied sweetly, kissing your lips before she hurried away. Leaving you alone in the hallway, thoughts running wild. Leah was very pragmatic, something you learned quickly as you started dating the blonde. Date night usually meant that she would take you out to a fancy restaurant, be the charmer herself as she would open every door for you and complimented you every two seconds and of course, she would pay for your dinner. There wasn't much point in discussing it - she stuck to her opinion: "need to treat my girl right", "I am taking you out, so I am paying"

Every now and then you tried though, enjoying the unamused glare she would send you and trying to explain herself, "you can pay me back with kisses" she would huff, grumbling about your ridiculousness - there was no way she would let you pay for anything. She was Leah Williamson, how could she ever let her girl pay for her?!

So, what was she up to? Special date? Should you be scared?

At home, you realized something. Leah hadn‘t told you what to wear. You couldn‘t be over or underdressed for her special date night.

You

what should I wear?

darling

what happened to hello? how are you?🙄

not even a heart, my girl

you‘re hurting my feelings

You

ha ha.

my dearest lover, what should I be wearing tonight?❤️❤️

better?

darling

much better.

Wear whatever you like, you always look beautiful

You

Leah, that‘s not helping

darling

something causal, baby x

With new information, you showered, freshening up for your night with Leah, dressing in some casual clothes.

The two of you haven‘t been together that long yet, both of you still living in your own apartments even though, Leah spent most of her time in your flat. The blonde was far too obsessed with you to stay away from you longer than a few hours. Nights where she had to attend to events were awful for her. She would rather cuddle you and have a night in instead of being out, surrounded by cameras and the media.

After event nights, she would return to your home, not thinking about her own - she just wanted to have you back in her arms.

As you waited patiently for the time to pass by excitement flashed through your body, what did she have planned? You thought about some date ideas Leah might had planned but none of them made any sense - it was Leah after all.

5 minutes before the clock ticked six, your doorbell rang. Happily, you got up from your seat on the couch, walking towards the door to open it.

"Hi!" the blonde greeted you, pulling you close with one arm as her other hand held a bouquet of flowers before she pressed a loving kiss to your lips, "I’ve missed you" she mumbled. Your cheeks turned crimson at her confession, relaxing further in her embrace, "missed you too" you admitted shyly, pecking her cheek.

"Got these for you, my girl" she showed you the flowers proudly as if you haven‘t seen them already, "they look almost as beautiful as you" she grinned.

Walking into your home she like she owned it, she tossed her bag aside, making her way to the kitchen to put the flowers in a vase.

"Thank you, baby, they‘re perfect" you told her as you trailed behind her.

With the flowers in the vase resting on the counter, her full attention was back on her favorite, "come here" grabbing your hands, she pulled you in, arms snuggling around your waist, "you look so beautiful" she muttered, pressing loving kisses to each of your cheeks before kissing your lips. Immediately, a blush spread across your features, Leah’s touch and sweet words making you melt.

After a quick lovely kissing session - Leah couldn‘t stop peppering kisses along your features, your blush and giggle too cute, the two of you left your home.

The blonde sat behind the steering wheel, hand firmly resting on your thigh as she drove to your destination. The whole driving journey you stared out of the window, admiring the city lights, the little bit of snow that was falling and all the house decorations. Everything was just so christmassy - you loved it.

As the car slowly came to a stop, the defender requested softly, "close your eyes please" to which you obeyed. Your girlfriend pressed a thank you kiss to your cheek before she hurried out of the car to your side, opening the door, "be careful, baby" she helped you out of the car, hand protecting your head, so you wouldn‘t hurt yourself. "I‘ll guide you some steps, keep your eyes closed" her arms wrapped around her waist to steady yourself as she led you to the ice rink.

"Open your eyes!"

Carefully, you opened your eyes, blinking a few times to adjust to the brightness of the Christmas lights, only now realizing the Christmas music playing.

"Ice skating?"

"Yes! Awesome, isn‘t it?" she had one of the brightest grins on her face, so confident in her idea. "Have you ever been ice skating before?" you asked as you couldn‘t imagine the girl on the ice without falling on her bum.

"Of course, but don‘t worry, my girl, we‘ll get you one of the penguins" she replied cockily with a special glint in her eyes. She was lying - the 'I’m trying to impress you'-lying. Nonetheless, you went with it as the big smile on her made you forget everything.

"Let‘s go. We need skates" grabbing your hands, she pulled you to the shoe rental.

"Ready, baby?" you asked, standing a step away from ice rink entrance.

"Yeah, sure" she answered with some hesitation, suddenly feeling afraid. Sensing her nervousness, you took her hand, "can we go at the same time?" smiling shyly. She nodded, stepping on the rink with you.

"Ah!" the defender shrieked as she slipped away, just catching the rink wall in time.

"You okay?" you giggled.

"Yes! put my weight on the wrong side" she shrugged, standing back up correctly, "come on" she pushed herself away from the rink, trying to balance herself in the skates - failing miserably. Her arms flung in every direction, hips and body too but it was no help. She fell again. She huffed, getting up immediately as she grabbed your hand, determined to show you that ice skating wasn‘t that hard. "Do you want some help?" you asked softly, the feeling on being on the ice an old familiar one to you. The sounds of the blades scratching the ice, the tightness of the laces and the shivering warm sensation made you feel nostalgic. You had spent hours on the ice as a kid, falling over and over again while you tried new figures.

"No, I told you I can ice skate" she stated, grumbling "can‘t be that fucking hard" under her breath. She left her hand in yours, feeling the need to do so as she tried again - it was rather moves of not falling than skating.

"Ah!" she yelled, pulling you down as she fell once again. You fell right on top of her, knocking the air out of her lungs, "sorry. are you alright?"

"yes" she huffed, getting more and more annoyed at each of her falls.

The hand holding soon turned into arm clinging as she desperately tried to stay on her feet, not wanting to fall again.

But she continued to fall, your heart slowly aching at her misery. Indiscreetly, you guided her to the wall where she instantly grabbed onto it, clinging for her dear life. "Let me get you a penguin" you suggested, eyes searching for one on the rink.

"I‘m not a baby!" she grumbled, pouting and crossing her arms - she didn‘t come that far her skates slipping away, arms back at hugging the rink.

"They are not for babies, they‘ll help you, my love"

She huffed, glaring at you, not used to the fact she couldn‘t do something - something as simple as ice skating, "fine"

"thank you" you pressed a kiss to her cheek before you skated away with an ease. like a goddess you glided across the ice, Leah amazed by it. It looked so effortless as you did. Not once did you fall - not when people suddenly appeared in your way nor when people skated straight into you, you just turned on the ice skating backwards as you helped said people not to fall themselves.

Leah‘s mouth agape, when did you learn to skate? You were glowing on the ice.

"I didn‘t know you could skate" the defender pouted in awe as you were back at her side, the penguin in front of you.

"You never asked" you laughed, pushing the penguin to her, "I used to figure skate" you stated at her raised brows.

"And you didn‘t tell me!" she looked at you offended, playfully hitting your chest. All her annoyance had washed away by seeing you skate, truly amazed by your talent. "Can you show me how to skate?" she asked shyly, head hanging low, slightly embarrassed as she had tried to impress you with something she couldn’t do and you were an expert in.

"I’d love to" you replied, "put one hand here and the other one there" you started your lesson.

With one arm gripping the wall, the other one made its way where you had showed her to put it. Then the other one did the exact same thing.

First step - letting go of the rink wall - check.

Second step

Your arms gripped her hips as you pushed her slowly over the ice, so she could get a feeling on it.

"How does that feel?" you asked, still holding onto her.

"Good"

"Now try to move your feet. First, you slide with one of them diagonally forward, like pushing yourself forwards, same goes with the other after that. Lean your weight slightly on the penguin"

"Alright"

She tried pushing, her weight on the penguin, but without any luck. If you weren’t holding her, she would’ve fallen to the ground.

"Gently, not with so much force" she huffed, trying it again. This time it worked a bit better but still wasn’t optimal as she came to a stop - her body on the ice.

"You‘re supposed to hold me" she complained.

"Baby, you pulled me with you, how am I supposed to hold you?"

"I don’t know!"

Pulling her back up, she clinged onto your body, no trust in the little penguin as it moved too much and fast.

"Do you want to go?"

"yes, please" she admitted bashfully, big eyes fearing your reaction.

"then let’s go" with your lover in yours arms, you skated to the exit, helping her to step out as you followed behind. Both of you took a seat on the bench, taking off your skates - Leah still with a scowl on her face. "What‘s the matter, my love?" you asked, stopping her in her movement as it was way too aggressive.

"I ruined our night" she grumbled, finally able to cross her arms without falling.

"Hey" cupping her cheeks, you turned her to face you, "no. no, you didn’t." Sad eyes looked at you, all Leah wanted to do was something special in your favorite time of the year (and impress you.)

"What about a hot chocolate and maybe crepes?" you suggested, caressing the wrinkle between her brows.

When Leah heard the word chocolate she was already convinced. The pout washed away, a wide smile making its way over her features, "I love you so much" she whispered, leaning towards you to lock your lips. Her kiss was gentle and soft, her hand resting on your thigh as the kiss lingered. She was so in love with you. More than anyone could ever imagine.

"I love you too" you smiled, leaning your forehead against hers as you soaked in the cold winter night, your lover keeping you warm.

"So about the hot chocolate…?"

"let’s go"

the blonde kissed you quickly in appreciation before she held out her hand for you to take. She grabbed the skates, yours and her own as she brought them back to the rental store.

"Do you want them with marshmallows, my girl?"

"No, whipped cream please"

She nodded, hurrying to the stand who sold warm drinks while you sat down at a table. With a wide grin, she came back, two cups of hot chocolate in her hands, "I asked her if she could add a smiley face on yours with chocolate sauce, look" placing the drink in front of you, a smiley face smiled at you in the whipped cream. Your features matched the one in your drink while you 'thank you' kissed Leah. Her eyes shone as she looked at you, you looked so beautiful. "My pretty girl" she admired while she took a seat beside you, wanting to be as close as possible.

"Cheers?" you lifted your cup, waiting for Leah to join you.

"Cheers"

Both of you took a sip, the drink melting on your tongues, not too hot and not too cold - just perfect.

The blonde beside you let out a laugh which caught your attention. "What?" you asked confused.

"You‘ve got there something, my girl" she chuckled, pointing to your face, the whipped cream had created a beard.

"Where?"

"Here, lemme just" the defender wiped it away with her thumb before she tasted it, "delicious" she giggled, still wiping away the last few bits, "all gone, baby"

"I don’t think it is" you said, taking the drink in your hands to apply more cream, this time perfectly on your lips, "try harder"

"my cheeky, cheeky girl"

Of course, the gunner immediately leaned forward, connecting your lips. Your body tingled at the heavenly sensation of her touch, mind blank as you could only focus on her lips on your own.

When air became a problem, she pulled back, grabbing your jaw with one hand, her touch gentle as she examined your lips, turning your head in every direction, so she could she them from each angle, "no, not finished yet" she grinned, interlocking your lips again.

For sure, Leah wasn‘t the best ice skater but her love for you was clear. Leah Williamson was head over heels for you and would try everything in her power to impress you each day. Sometimes it‘ll work and other times, like today, it won‘t but that‘s okay because she was Leah Williamson, England Captain, European Champion and you were her girl.

So in the end, it was indeed a special date night - she made the winter even more special to you.

Also, she wanted to watch you figure skate - the two of you would definitely come back here.

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson x you #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso #lionesses #engwnt x reader #engwnt #lionesses x reader #arsenal wfc #arsenal x reader #arsenal women #arsenal #gunner #awfc #awfc imagine #awfc x reader

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loveinhawkins · 1 year

Text

It’s barely hit 9pm when Eddie muffles a yawn against Steve’s shoulder and murmurs, “Steve.”

“Yeah?”

“My eyes keep closing.”

Steve smiles. Traces a soothing, circular path along Eddie’s scalp. “That’s okay.”

“No.”

“No?”

“Don’t wanna…” Eddie trails off for a moment; Steve feels his body relaxing further, slumping against him. “Don’t wanna miss it.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. The Golden Girls is playing in the background. “Uh, I mean. I could tape it?”

“No,” Eddie repeats, and his hand clumsily pats Steve’s cheek. “Don’t wanna miss it.”

Steve presses his lips to the warmth of Eddie’s palm. “Ah,” he says, gently teasing, “‘cause saying the same thing twice definitely makes sense.”

Eddie tsks. He prods with one finger at Steve’s jaw.

“Ow,” Steve laughs.

It doesn’t hurt at all.

“Talkin’ ‘bout you,” Eddie says, “Steve Harrington.”

And there’s the way he says Steve’s name, all rounded, like he’s savouring each syllable.

“There’s so much… so much goin’ on in there,” Eddie continues. Tap, tap, taps across Steve’s face. “You’d…” A sleepy huff of laughter. “You’d be a terrible spy.”

“Thanks,” Steve says dryly.

“Steeeve,” Eddie says, lilting into a song of his own creation. “Steve, Steve, Steve. S’a compliment.”

“Yeah, you’re a regular charmer.”

“I mean—” Eddie yawns again. “Mean it. Y’know, in… in school. Even if your… words were… your eyes, they… they’d always say s’actly what you were thinkin’.”

“In school?” Steve says. You noticed me? “Like when?”

It’s a blatant prompt, a wish for something more, but he can’t help it. Eddie smiles indulgently.

“Jus’ b’fore you graduated. First period. Asked you for a pen. Your mouth said sure an’ your eyes said forgetful prick.”

Steve laughs. “Fuck off, no they didn’t.”

He can feel Eddie’s giggles reverberating through him.

“Only kidding.” Eddie mimes like Robin does, indicating a tiny amount with his thumb and forefinger. “Half kidding.”

“Uh-huh.”

Eddie tilts his head from where it rests on Steve’s shoulder, eyes blinking languidly, as if he’s suddenly really putting the effort in to keep them open. As if this is something important.

“Y’know, in school I always tried to… notice things. People. Like, who ate lunch alone, or… Didn’t want anyone to, uh. Slip through the cracks.” Eddie sighs, a little melancholy. “Still missed stuff, though.”

Steve runs a hand through his hair. “You’re only human.”

You were trying. You cared. That’s enough.

Eddie gives a bittersweet hum. “Knew I missed stuff with you,” he says. “Makes sense now, but back then… Could never figure it out. Jus’ knew you were suddenly, like… at the end of a book or something, an’ I’d barely started the first page. And you’d… you’d look so…” Another sigh. “Not… not quite sad, but… like you knew something. Something you couldn’t… walk away from.” Steve’s nose suddenly stings.

“S’why I don’t wanna miss it,” Eddie says. “Don’t wanna waste a second.” He smiles again, eyelids heavy. “There’s whole stories in your eyes, Steve Harrington.”

For a moment, Steve can’t speak for the enormity of it: the fact that he’s just heard probably the most romantic thing in the world, and it’s about him.

For a moment, it makes him brave.

“You’re not gonna miss anything if you dream about me.”

Eddie laughs. “Wow,” he says, drawn out, and the end of it turns into a yawn, then a drowsy sigh. His eyelids droop… flicker… close. “Presumptuous and corny.”

But Steve can hear the fondness in it—like maybe Eddie thinks he’s heard the most romantic thing, too.

“Yeah,” he agrees. Then, softer, “Can’t help what you turn me into.”

“Hmm?” Eddie mumbles, like he’s trying his best, but the thread of the conversation is still running away from him, getting lost to his dreams.

“Shh,” Steve says. He shifts until he’s lying on his back, gently guides Eddie down with him. “G’night.”

He feels Eddie breathing against his shoulder.

“Night,” Eddie whispers. “Night, night, night…”

Steve smiles; Eddie repeats stuff when he’s drifting off, has even had whole circular conversations with Dustin about whatever movie they happen to be watching.

“G’night,” Steve says again, and he almost says something more. Doesn’t—because Eddie’s breaths are truly heavy with sleep now.

Maybe he could already read it in Steve’s eyes. Maybe, just maybe, he’ll dream about it until Steve can say it for real.

#have a soft sleepy little moment ❤️#steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson

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birthing1020 · 2 months

Note

1️⃣or 2️⃣, 🤰🏡(apartment or dorm)🧠🦶(for one)

maybe something like a college aged couple in a coed dorm has been together since the beginning of the semester, and it’s great because they live in the same dorm.

she comes from a rural background and is pretty innocent in things of the world, and doesn’t realize that the “cuddles” she has with her boyfriend are what got her pregnant — she doesn’t even know she is pregnant.

now it’s the end of the semester, and most of the others in the dorm have gone home for summer. But not our favorite couple, they’re staying as long as they can together.

he’s realized she’s pregnant, he’s a pre-med major after all.

she gives birth in the dorm/apartment with only her boyfriend to help her with her “upset stomach” he lets her labor and birth without telling her what’s going on until the baby crowns — feel free to make it breech to give a panic moment

Tags: Female, twins, coed dorm, didn’t know she was pregnant.

~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s your favorite couple! The talk of the college campus, Lucy and Stephen were the couple. Her long blonde hair, she was short but definitely had a figure on her. Stephen, was all the females could talk about, he was the charmer and everyone knew what he was capable of. He might have been a future doctor in the making, but when he wanted you, he got you and he wrapped Lucy right around his finger. They were inseparable and by the time it was summer break, they didn’t want to leave each other’s side, so they decided to stick around the dorm - only to discover some surprises along the way.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Baby, my tummy hurts!” Lucy groaned and rubbed at her stomach, she looked bloated but nothing out of the ordinary. Stephen came to her aid and rubbed her protruded belly, handing her some ginger ale in the process because it helped with ‘stomach aches’. He wrapped his arms around his girlfriend’s shoulders and unclipped her bra through her shirt, her nipples already erect from the cold air that hit her skin.

“You lie down sweetie, you need to get some rest.” He mumbled into the crook of her neck and kissed at her soft flesh. Only he knew she was beginning the early stages of her labor, only he knew she was pregnant as she just shrugged off the constantly missed periods. Their genitals ‘hugging’ didn’t mean anything to her, if you don’t cum, you can’t get pregnant; condoms are supposed to prevent this, right? Or so she thought. Unfortunately, she was one of the unlucky few that it failed with. She was carrying his twins, but all she looked was bloated and uncomfortable at times.

They fell asleep together after watching a movie, entwined in each other’s naked bodies, his chin softly on her head as he gripped her into a tight embrace. She woken up and grunted, taking a few deep breaths before sighing in her boyfriend’s chest. “I..I think there’s something wrong with me, there feels something wrong with me.” She stammered and took deep breaths trying to keep her composure.

She pulled away from his embrace and stood off the bed, pacing around before grunting and groaning every couple minutes. He slipped his boxers on before coming back to her aid — he knew he had to tell her, but right now was not the time. “Calm down, Lucy. Take some breaths with me.” He mimicked breaths for her to copy and they proceeded to follow each other in unison. She was getting closer and he knew he had to be at her side consistently now.

Lucy trucked into the bathroom and sat on the toilet, grunting and whining as the cramping in her abdomen had gotten worse — she was thankful he was in premed, so she had a future doctor at her side. “Stephen! What’s going on with me?!” She moaned out and rubbed her belly to try and stop the pain that was aching to her core.

“I feel like I have to…push?!” She hunched over her stomach and grunted; Stephen kneeling on the tiled floor, grabbing her hands for reassurance. “Baby — if you need to push, I want you to push. I’m gonna need you to push hard and long.” He grabbed her pants and panties, pulling them off her body; this’ll be least of her worries. She’s going to birth twins!

She stood up and hovered over the seat, she gripped her knees and groaned loudly as she pushed. “What is happening to me?!” She screeched out and squeezed her eyes shut, pushing slowly and hard. Her cunt expanding and the babies head slowly forming to a crown. “Honey — you are giving birth, we’re going to be parents!” Her eyes shot open in disbelief, she couldn’t tell if she was dying or Stephen was crazy. Baby?! Babies?! What was he talking about.

“What?!” She shouted in denial and pushed harder, grunting and panting from the pain. As liquid spurt out from her opening cunt, she bared down and slowly pushed the first baby out. Stephen quickly caught the first one in a towel and cut the cord. “It’s a boy.” He beamed up at his gorgeous girlfriend who was still in shock from what all was happening between her legs. She groaned and grabbed her stomach again as another pain took over her body.

“I think we’re having twins.” He rubbed her leg to reassure her that everything was okay. “You’re going to need to push again, Lucy.” He grabbed another towel and held it between her legs, watching her cunt slowly turn into another crown. “Okay…honey. We’re going to need you to get on the bed, this one is looking breech.” He stood up and rubbed at her back, gently walking her over to the bed and on her back. “This one will be a lot harder to get out.”

He kneeled in between her legs and stretched out her folds, Lucy panting and groaning from the pain, she tucked her knees in and pushed. “That’s it honey!” Stephen kept trying to encourage her through the uncomfortable motions, he slowly pulled as she pushed and twin finally slid out of her. She panted aggressively, trying to compose herself. “We have a little boy and girl.”

#preggophilia #labor kink #birth kink #preggo kink #giving birth #maieusiophilia #rapid pregnancy

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cera-writes · 4 months

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Hello! You’re friendly neighbourhood request stalker here, just having another little moment of self inserted love.

Gambit strikes me as someone who would be an absolute nerd. I see him as a secret Star Wars fan or Trekkie. Reader is a mutant who lives in the mansion - maybe a teacher rather than an X-Man? Halloween rolls around, big mansion party and of course reader is big into costumes and cosplay.

Everyone has to dress up and no-one tells anyone about their costume until the big reveal at the party.

She does the Leia. /That/ Princess Leia. And he just spends the whole night with an uncomfortable nerd boner, torn between talking excitedly about the movies and just being his usual flirty lusty self? Maybe even a flustered fanboy? NSFW or SFW, I’ll leave that to you.

I’m gonna go sit in the corner and squee to myself.

A/N: yes yes yes!! I was listening to this song while writing this and I wanna imagine it playing it in the background of the party... 🤣 Pairing: Remy "Gambit" LeBeau x F!Reader Tags: fluff, sweet sexy fluff, making out, sexual innuendos, teasing, flirting, reader gives Remy a constant boner

"Then show me, Scoundrel."

The X-Mansion buzzed with an energy that rivalled Danger Room training. Tonight wasn't about honing mutant abilities, it was about unleashing inner demons – the good kind, fueled by fruity cocktails and booming music. Professor Xavier had thrown a rare costume party, and the place was a kaleidoscope of capes, masks, and questionable fashion choices.

You, however, were channelling a very specific kind of fantasy. Standing by the punch bowl, you were the epitome of Rebel Princess badassery. You'd raided Storm's wardrobe for a flowing white drape, leaving enough strategically placed gaps to make even the stoic Ororo blush. The pièce de résistance, though, was a leather belt Professor X had unearthed from a forgotten box of "mutant memorabilia." It did wonders for accentuating your curves. You'd even fashioned your hair into a pair of space buns, completing the look.

You were scanning the room, feeling a thrill at the envious stares from Rogue and the appreciative nods from Beast, when a familiar drawl sliced through the music.

"Well, well, well. Looks like someone wandered straight outta Jabba's Palace."

Remy Lebeau, ever the charmer, stood before you, his trademark grin plastered across his face. He was a dead ringer for Indiana Jones, complete with a Traveller hat and a leather jacket that wouldn't look out of place on one of the members of his former Thief Guild.

"Just call me Princess," you countered, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. Up close, his eyes sparkled with an amusement that sent a shiver down your spine. Remy was, in fact, all hot and bothered at the mere sight of you. He was fangirling so hard, flustered by the sight of you wearing that costume.

"Princess, huh? Think you can handle a scoundrel like me?" His voice was a low rumble, sending another delicious jolt through you.

You leaned in, close enough for him to feel the warmth of your breath on his ear. "Try me, Gambit."

The way his name rolled off your tongue, laced with a deliberate challenge, had a visible effect on him. A flicker of heat replaced the amusement in his eyes.

"Careful, cher," he murmured, his voice husky. "You might jus' get more than you bargained for."

The music shifted to a slow, seductive melody. Remy held out a hand, the invitation clear. A mischievous grin spread across your face as you bit your bottom lip. "Take the lead, scoundrel."

He took your hand, the touch sending a spark igniting between you. As you glided onto the makeshift dance floor, you couldn't help but brush your hand against his chest, the worn leather cool against your skin. He inhaled sharply, the movement pulling the fabric of his jacket taut across his impressive physique.

You danced with him, slow and close, the playful banter escalating with each stolen glance, each lingering touch. He twirled you, the white drape billowing around you like a cloud, and for a moment, you could almost believe you were dancing with Han Solo under a Tatooine sunset.

When the song ended, Remy leaned in, his breath warm against your cheek. "Let's get outta here, Princess. I know a place with a much better view of the stars."

A shiver snaked down your spine at his suggestion, a delicious mix of excitement and apprehension. The night air was cool, a stark contrast to the heat building between you. Remy's hand slipped around your waist, his touch sending a jolt through you that had nothing to do with his mutant power.

He led you away from the mansion, the party lights fading behind you like dying stars. The silence was thick with unspoken desire, broken only by the soft crunch of gravel beneath your feet. He stopped suddenly, pulling you against a large oak tree, the moonlight filtering through the leaves casting an ethereal glow on his face.

His eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, were now smoldering with a different kind of intensity. A single gloved finger grazed your cheek, sending shivers down your exposed skin. "You know, cher," he murmured, his voice a low caress, "this princess needs a little less…" he trailed off, his hand gliding down your arm, lingering on the exposed sliver of skin above your elbow. His eyes followed the traces of his fingers dancing along your skin, causing goosebumps to form as you bit back a whimper.

Your breath hitched as he slowly unfastened the clasp on the leather belt Professor X had unearthed. It felt symbolic, a shedding of inhibitions, a slow reveal that mirrored the growing tension between you. The white fabric parted further, revealing a hint of smooth skin and the enticing curve of your hip.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing your ear. "And a scoundrel," he whispered, his voice husky with desire, "needs a little more…" his breath tickled your earlobe as he trailed a finger down the exposed skin of your back, sending a jolt straight to your core. He had you practically squirming.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "Then show me, scoundrel," you breathed, your voice laced with lust and a newfound confidence. The playful banter had morphed into something far more primal, a delicious urgency hanging in the air.

Remy chuckled, a low rumble in his chest that vibrated through you. He captured your lips in a kiss, a slow burn that quickly escalated into a heated exploration. His touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine as he explored the exposed skin of your arms and back. You responded in kind, your fingers tracing the contours of his chest, relishing the feeling of his worn leather jacket beneath your fingertips. He hitched one of your legs up, pinning you against the tree and him.

The kiss became a desperate battle for dominance, a delicious push and pull that left you breathless. He finally pulled away, his eyes half lidded, a red glow in the moonlight.

The crimson glow in his eyes sent a tremor straight down to your core, a primal counterpoint to the heat that had already taken root in your belly. His touch, a slow, deliberate graze against your exposed skin, was pure, unadulterated fire. The playful princess facade had melted away, replaced by a woman yearning for something raw, something untamed.

"Patience, cher," he murmured against your lips, his voice a husky rasp as he thumbed your bottom lip. The restraint in his tone was a delicious torture, a dam holding back a flood of desire. He trailed a finger down the exposed skin of your neck, sending goosebumps erupting in their wake.

"This night isn't over yet. We can take it slow under the disco ball, or..." He paused, his eyes flickering with a devilish glint, "we can rewrite this lil' fairytale of ours under the moonlight, with a little less fabric and a lot more…" He didn't need to finish the sentence.

The suggestive leer in his eyes spoke volumes.

A/N: Lemme know if ya'll want a part two to this! I really enjoyed writing this one! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

#gambit #gambit x reader #xmen #x men 97 #remy lebeau #remy lebeau x reader

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b1rkins · 11 months

Text

✦ PANCAKE LOVE, C. SAINZ

who knows love can be found at the first bite of his pancake

liked by selenagomez, jennaortega and 248,502 more

yourusername pancake love ❤️

view comments...

username those pancake makes me hungry

username i need her recipe

⤷ username just search it on tiktok

⤷ username it's carlos's recipe tho...

username nutella with pancake is the best fr

username i need her cooking content more

maxverstappen1 wonder what it taste like

⤷ yourusername pancake.

carlossainz55 🥞🥞🥞😋

⤷ yourusername ❤️❤️❤️

jennaortega you didn't even spare me even for a bit

⤷ yourusername 🤷🏼‍♀️ oopsie

landonorris she just gave me the pictures and not the real thing😢👎

⤷ yourusername it's called giving information, lando.

ˑ⭒ʚ ִreal life ݁.٭

« come and get your looovee » you sang, music blaring in the background while you dance to the music in the kitchen while you were making your breakfast pancake. a really good recipe from your boyfriend.

then a sudden appearance of a lingering hand on your waist surprised you, « hmm, smells good. whatchu’ cooking? » he asked, keeping your hair to the side, and kissing your neck afterwards.

« stop, it tickles! » you said, after he kissed it. but it makes him tease you more with an attack kiss into your neck to your jaw. making you laugh even more loud.

« can't help it, you're so good to kiss. » he says, letting go the hold that he has on your waist and walking into the counter behind you.

« oh, what a charmer » you breathe, rolling your eyes playfully, flipping the pancake and continuing to hum your selected song from your playlist.

as you flipped another pancake on the pan, carlos sneakily snitched a pancake from your plate and began to eat it in the background. « mm, tastes awfully similar like mine. » he teased, eyes squinting slightly at her back while she giggle at his words.

« well, i watched your videos. and so many of your fans has tried it, so why don't i try it too. » you smiles, finally finished with the pancakes and finally stacking them in the plate and eating one of the pancakes for you to snack.

« how is it? is it better than yours? » you asked, wiggling your eyebrows at him while bumping your bicep to tease him.

« hmm, it's good. but i think i did it better though, » he smirks and snitch another pancake from the plate and run away from your anticipated chase.

you screamed a loud ‘hey!’ while you started to chase him, and finally got him while he was still eating your pancake in the room hallway. « just say mine's better, carlos. it won't hurt you. » he just smiled at your words as he took your chin and kissed your lips.

« yeah yeah, i admit. juuuust a tiny bit. » he said, while making a finger gesture of a pinch. you just laugh and continue to kiss him.

ˑ⭒ʚ ִinstagram ݁.٭

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, ellefanning, and 782,630 more

yourusername from pancake to pizza, pasta with love<3

view comments...

carlossainz55 te amo mucho, bébé❤️

comments on this post have been limited.

#✶!#carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x female reader #f1 fanfic

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bellaveux · 1 year

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APOCALYPSE | wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: part two! of “your lips, my lips…” fic | on the night of the party, wanda decides that tonight is the night you two stop being friends.

content warnings: MNDI. slight fluff, fuckgirl!wanda x fem!reader, best friend!wanda, soft dom!wanda, jealous!wanda, best friends to lovers, subtle confessions, slight natasha romanoff x reader, mentions drinking alcohol and drugs, smut 18+; soft dom!wanda, oral (r! receiving), fingering (r! receiving), overstimulation, slight thigh riding, marking/hickeys

word count: 5.2k+

The bass thumped in the background as the students danced and laughed around her, but Wanda couldn't find it in herself to join in the revelry. She leaned against the wall and watched the crowd with a distant gaze, feeling out of place among the youthful energy. The young women and men were all around her, their laughter and chatter mingling together in a blur of sound. Couples stood a generous distance away from the crowd, making out and holding each other close. Wanda couldn't help but feel envious of the ease with which they interacted with each other, wishing she was here with the one person she cared about.

Her mind always drifts to the thought of you and the kiss you shared in her bed just about a week ago. Each day after that, her mind was filled with thoughts of your soft lips pressed to hers, your cute gasps and moans, and the taste of you. Honestly, she didn’t even know how she held back that day. If she didn’t, she would’ve laid you down against her mattress, drag her lips down to your jaw, to your neck, to your collarbones and breathe you in. She would make you feel so good, and if she were to get the chance again, it would be a promise.

As the night wore on, the party became more frenzied, the music got louder, and the drinks flowed more and more. Wanda watched as couples formed and dissolved around her, bodies on bodies dancing against each other and drinking games were played by the tables and outside by the pool, but she still couldn't seem to connect with anyone.

She had always been a flirt, a charmer, but tonight, her usual tactics felt hollow and meaningless. Wanda stood there, lost in thought, when a young woman approached her and began to flirt with her. She couldn't find it in herself to respond. The young woman's interest in her seemed like a game, a meaningless pursuit, and Wanda wasn't interested in playing.

And that’s when you walked in.

Wanda’s breath hitched as she took in the sight of you, wearing a short, black summer dress with the same color pumps on your feet. She was mesmerized by the way the black fabric hugged your curves, the way the dress was short enough to show off your pretty legs to everyone, and the way your hair was fixed neatly, framing your soft features and your pretty face. You looked stunning. Wanda couldn't take her eyes off you. It was as if time had slowed down, the music got quiet, and nothing else in the room mattered except for you.

But you weren’t alone, as she remembered the conversation you two had that day.

Natasha stood right next to you with her fiery red hair making her easy to find in the crowd, dressed in her typical black jeans and leather jacket. She had an arm loosely wrapped around your waist, eventually traveling down the small of your back as she led you through the room, introducing you to her friends or whoever they were, flaunting you like a piece of jewelry. Wanda's mind raced with thoughts of what you could be saying to each other, jealousy erupting in her chest while she touched you, kept her hands on you.

She looked at you as you scanned the room, in search of something and when her eyes met yours, Wanda gave you a small nod, subtly raising her solo cup as a way to wave at you. You responded with a soft smile, one that she was quite familiar with, one that you used when you were unsure and nervous for what’s about to come.

And ultimately, Wanda watched you the whole night. She watched as you smiled and laughed at something Natasha had said. She watched when Natasha would get you drinks, making sure she didn’t do anything to them, even though she knew Natasha wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. She watched when you would dance together, holding you close by your waist, and you would smile shyly at her. Natasha would whisper something in your ear at some point, and whatever it was pinked your cheeks, making Wanda’s heart burn in her chest.

Wanda's heart was a tumultuous sea of emotions, as she watched continued to watch you. She tried to push the green-eyed monster of jealousy away, but it had already crept in years ago, and never left, seeping through every inch of her being. Every moment that you spent with someone else was like a dagger in her heart, causing her to clench her fists and grit her teeth, squeezing the red solo cup in hand slightly. Wanda felt as if fate had dealt her a cruel hand.

It should’ve been her making you smile like that, holding you, and keeping you away from everyone else that desired you. It should’ve been her you dressed all pretty for. It should’ve been her. In another reality, you’d be hers by now. Wanda couldn’t help but curse at the thought, failing to understand why she couldn’t just ignore her fears and ask you out so many years ago.

Then, Natasha dragged you away from the crowd, your hand in hers, pulling you up to the second floor for some privacy. Wanda pushed herself off the wall she was leaning on, mind racing at the possibilities. She followed suit after downing her drink, then walked up the stairs herself, watching where the door had shut just down the hall. She walked past other students, some doing drugs in the bathroom, some just drunk and crying on the floor, some making out in the bedrooms, and suddenly, Wanda hated the image of you and Natasha that burned in her head.

“Fuck,” Wand muttered to herself, standing a few feet away from the door, leaning against the wall next to her.

She wondered what to do. Barge in? Interrupt the very thing you were preparing yourself for? Would it be selfish to do so?

Even then, her thoughts didn’t last for very long because the door suddenly creaked open under the sound of the heavy bass playing from downstairs. Wanda looked up and watched you walk out into the hallway with an unreadable expression on your face. You had your head down as you made your way, almost mistakenly ignoring Wanda, who stood in front of you.

You brought your head up to look at her when you noticed the familiar boots that she wore almost everyday under the dim blue lights. Not only that, but you couldn’t see all that well in this lighting, but you knew Wanda was worried.

But, all you did was sigh and walked past her.

Wanda followed you like a puppy down the stairs, eventually leading the two of you outside the sorority house. It was a little chilly that night, and you were cold. She could tell when you rubbed one of your arms quickly as you walked further into the campus, clearly heading for your dorm room.

“Wanda, why are you following me?” you turned around suddenly, clearly annoyed.

Your question seemed to surprise her when she stopped in her tracks, the same as you did, eyebrows raised with her hands in her pockets.

“I just… wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” you replied quickly, continuing your walk.

Wanda chose to say quiet after that. You weren’t fine, and she knew very well. She was also sure that you knew that she knew, which was probably adding to your rising annoyance. Over the years, she found it best to let you calm down without her babbling in your ear about how things could’ve gone better or giving you encouraging words you most likely weren’t in the mood to hear.

As you walked along the quiet sidewalk, the only sounds were the soft padding of yours and Wanda’s footsteps and the occasional rustle of leaves. The darkness of the night cloaked the two of you like a cozy blanket, and the stillness of the hour was a soothing balm for both of your weary souls. Wanda followed closely behind you, yet there was no need for words at that moment.

The two of you didn’t say a word until you reached your dorm. You lived alone in your room. Luckily, your old roommate had moved out in the middle of the year, leaving you all to your lonesome, which you were thrilled about when it had happened.

Without turning to look at Wanda, you reached into your bag for your key and spoke quietly, “Are you staying?”

“Do you want me to?” she asked.

You didn’t say a word when you pulled your key out to unlock the door. Stepping into your room, you left the door open, to which Wanda took as a ‘yes’ to her question.

Your dorm room was shrouded in a cozy darkness, the only illumination coming from the warm glow of a desk lamp. It wasn’t clean, nor was it messy — it was somewhere in between. Clothes were scattered across a chair in a haphazard fashion, and a few textbooks were left open on your desk, but everything else seemed to be in its place. The bed was neatly made, with a colorful quilt covering the pillows, and a few scattered knick-knacks adorned the shelves. The air was still, and the only sound was the faint hum of the air conditioning. Despite the lack of order, there was a certain charm to the room. It was a space that was lived in.

More importantly, it was the space you lived in, and that’s why Wanda loved it so much.

Wanda stood in the middle of your room, watching as you moved towards the mirror that hung on your wall. You brought your hands up to remove your earrings, carefully glancing at her through the mirror as you did so. Not once has Wanda taken her eyes off of you tonight, and it never went unnoticed, even at the party.

“You look really pretty tonight,” Wanda says softly, breaking the silence.

You look up at her through the mirror, giving her a tiny, tight-lipped smile, “Thank you.”

You truly did. The dress clung to your curves in all the right places, and the light fabric swayed gently each time you moved. Wanda's eyes were drawn to the way the dress hugged your hips, accentuating your curves in a way that made her heart race. She felt a rush of desire wash over her, as she took in the sight of you. Her heart only kept racing with a sense of longing, as she imagined what it would be like to touch you, to feel the warmth of your skin against her own. Wanda just couldn't help but think about how incredibly sexy you looked tonight — every second spent with you drove her closer and closer to the edge.

Wanda began to think about the recent events that occurred at the party, wondering why you left in such a hurry, without saying a word. She wondered if Natasha did something to make you uncomfortable or maybe hurt your feelings, and her blood boiled at the thought.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

And for a moment, you don’t answer, placing your earrings down on the nightstand right next to you, unable to meet her gaze.

“We, uh… We kissed.”

Wanda feels another sting of jealousy as she listened, furrowing her eyebrows, “Then what?”

She could see you visibly getting frustrated as you replayed tonight’s events in your head. It was fun at first — dancing and flirting around with this gorgeous woman who asked you out several days ago. She was great. But, you were unsure the whole time. You felt as if you were out of place… like you didn’t belong with her. Like you imagined her as someone else.

“I walked out on her, Wanda. That’s it,” you tell her, clenching your jaw and running a hand through your hair as you turn around to look at her. “She was perfect the whole time, and she was nice to me, and she was doing everything right. But when we kissed, I just… walked out.”

Wanda watched intently as you spoke, wanting to step closer to you and tell you that it was okay – that you had every right to be feeling the way you were feeling and that you did nothing wrong. In fact, a selfish part of her was happy about what you did.

“I-It didn’t feel right for me,” you continue. “It didn’t feel like…”

Then, much to Wanda’s disappointment, you stopped talking and sighed, and instead you turned around once again to face the mirror, a sigh falling past your lips as you moved your hands to your neck to remove your necklace.

“It didn’t feel like what?”

You could hear Wanda taking a few steps closer as she spoke. She stood closely behind you, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. The space between was nearly imperceptible, and the warmth of your body enveloped her like a blanket. She could feel the rise and fall of your breath, and the gentle sway of your hair with every movement. Wanda's mind raced with thoughts of how close you were, and how she longed to reach out and touch you. She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks, as she tried to steady herself and resist the urge to close the gap even further.

You looked so pretty tonight, she couldn’t stop thinking about it — in this dress, under the dim lighting of your lamp, illuminating you inside your dark room. Her eyes always found their way down to your gorgeous legs, imagining them wrapped around her.

“Can you help me with this?” you say, ignoring her question as you moved your hair to your shoulder, showing her the zipper of your dress.

Wanda swallowed the lump in her throat. She had done this countless of times for you, seen you half-naked countless of times, but each time it happens, it gets harder for her to control herself. It was almost like you knew, and you were teasing her, testing her, until she finally cracked.

You felt her hands at the back of your dress, slowly dragging the zipper down your spine. She did it very slowly, like she was savoring the moment up to when your dress would come loose.

“It didn’t feel like when we did it,” you finally say the moment your zipper meets the end of its line.

After hearing those words, Wanda finally put her hands on you, letting them grip softly down your lower waist as she rested her forehead against your shoulder. At that moment, everything else faded away, and all that existed was the girl in front of her. Wanda was lost in the moment, her senses heightened by the proximity, and the electric tension between you was palpable. It was as if the whole world had disappeared, and there was only the two of you, standing together in that intimate space.

Wanda sighed against your shoulder, smelling the soft scent of your perfume. It felt so good to finally be near you after watching you spend the entire night in someone else’s arms.

“Wanda—“

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you, (y/n),” Wanda whispers, nuzzling into the side of your neck, your hair tickling the sides of her face. God, her name sounded so good in your mouth.

You pulled away to turn and face her, but she kept her hands on your waist as you did so, pressing your front against hers.

“Wanda,” you repeated firmly, unsure of what you should be saying next, as you placed your hands on her shoulders to either push her away or pull her close, you didn’t know yet. “I don’t know if this is a good idea. I don’t want to ruin what we have…”

“But, I want to,” Wanda counters, leaning towards you until she could feel your breath on her lips. “I don’t… I don’t want to be just your friend anymore. I can be so much more for you… if you’ll let me? Please… I’ll be good to you, (y/n). I promise you that.”

Her throat was tight with emotion, her words came out in a desperate plea, and her green eyes were filled with hope and trepidation. The expression on your face was one of uncertainty, and Wanda held her breath as she waited for your response. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she gazed deeply into your eyes, the girl she had fallen for so long ago.

Wanda sighed and closed her eyes when she felt your hands move up to run through her hair, soothing her in a way no one else can. As your fingers traced patterns through her locks, Wanda felt a sense of calm wash over her, like she was being soothed by a gentle breeze. Her eyes were closed, and she savored every moment of your touch, feeling a sense of connection that went beyond words. It was as if at that moment, you and her were the only two people in the world, with nothing else mattering but the sensation of your touch.

“That should’ve been me with you earlier…” Wanda whispered, eyes fluttering open to look at you.

There was a small smirk playing at your lips, making the girl in front of you smile as well, “You should’ve asked me.”

“I know,” she replied with half-lidded eyes, trailing them down to your lips with a smile.

Wanda brought her hand up from your waist to sensually press the pad of her thumb over your bottom lip, where your lipstick was slightly smeared. She slowly swiped your plump lips with her thumb, watching the way it pressed against her finger, as if she was wiping off any remains of another person who had touched you there.

And then, without warning, Wanda leaned forward and kissed you, and a rush of sensations flooded her senses. Wanda felt her body respond with a shudder, and she melted into the kiss, savoring every moment of the connection. You let Wanda push her tongue past your lips, and she felt herself losing herself in the moment, completely surrendered to the sensations coursing through her. She could taste the sweetness of your lips and your lipstick, and the warmth of your embrace.

You couldn’t help but moan into her mouth, a sound Wanda was so desperate to hair again, causing her to groan against you when she finally did. Your dress was loosely coming off your shoulders as Wanda pressed herself to your front, hands trailing down to your waist once more, gripping the fabric of your dress.

You pulled back for a breath of air, only for Wanda to chase your lips, kissing you again shortly after. The vibrations of your moans against her mouth made Wanda’s heart hammer in her chest as she began to lift the skirt of your dress up slightly, wanting to feel your thighs in her hands again.

“Wanda, please…” you gasped against her lips.

She hummed in response, pulling her head back for a moment before leaning in again, kisses trailing from your cheek, over your jaw and down to your neck. Your breaths started to get uneven as she touched you, as she kissed and sucked your neck, making sure to leave pretty little marks on your skin.

Wanda groaned, hands moving down to your ass as she continued to kiss your neck, “We can stop anytime…”

“No,” you said almost too quickly, gasping when you felt her bite you lightly, teeth nipping at your neck. “Please, don’t stop.”

Wanda smiled against your skin, relishing the moment she finally had you all to herself. In a quick motion, she brought her head back up to kiss you on the lips once again, moaning into your mouth this time, as she pulled you by the waist, leading you towards your bed. She sat on it, pulling you into her lap with your dress still loose on your body.

You looked so pretty right now, she thought, with your dress clinging to your body as best it can, teasing her with the sight of your naked body.

She could feel the softness of the other your lips, the warmth of your tongue and your body, and the intensity of your connection. It was a moment of pure bliss, one that she had dreamed of for so long. As the kiss deepened, Wanda felt herself losing herself in the sensation. She could feel your breath on her skin, the softness of your hair as it brushed against her face. Wanda's hands explored the curves of your body, savoring each and every moment of you in her hands. Eventually, she let them drag down from your waist to your thighs, slipping her hands underneath your dress to touch your bare skin where your hips were. She moaned into your mouth when she felt the lace fabric of your panties against her fingers, jealous that this was what you chose to wear while you were out with somebody who wasn’t her.

“Fuck. I hate that she was touching you all over like this,” Wanda whispered against your lips, moaning when you rolled your hips against her thigh. “Only I get to touch you like this from now on, okay? No one else, but me.”

You nod eagerly, hands tugging at her hair as you grind against her thigh, “Yeah. Okay.”

With her hands gripping you tightly at your hips, Wanda guided you, grinding your clothed sex at a rhythmic pace against her thigh. Wanda’s smirk only grew wider as you began to move your clit against the firm muscle of her thigh, moaning right into her ear. She groaned at the sound of your voice, heaving heavily against her. God, you were so fucking pretty.

Wanda lifted you off her thigh, pushing you down onto your back against your bed. She hovered over you, a smile donning her face as she looked at you — hair slightly messy, spilling over your blankets, the way your chest rose up and down as you breathed through your mouth in heavy pants, and the way your thighs spread instinctively, finally having your legs wrapped around her slightly.

You were a heavenly sight, one that she had dreamed of for so long. The soft light from the lamp illuminated your face, highlighting the curve of your lips and the sparkle in your eyes. Wanda felt her heart swell with love and admiration as she gazed down at you, taking in every detail, every nuance of your expression. She loved the way you responded to her touches, the way your hands would pull at her hair slightly, traveling down to her shoulder as she kissed you.

“You’re so beautiful, (y/n),” Wanda muttered against your skin, nipping and sucking on it lightly. “I’ll take care of you tonight… Just lay there and look all pretty for me, okay, darling?”

“Wanda…”

Her name. Wanda moaned at the sound of your voice calling out her name between your breaths as she dragged your loose dress downwards, placing kisses and marks as your skin was revealed. She dragged it all the way down, over your legs, until it was off of you completely, and Wanda swears she could come from just the sight of you. She couldn’t help but lean forward, telling you to arch your back a bit while she reached for the clasps of your bra. She sighed into your chest as she removed it, hand immediately palming your breasts as she kissed the skin in between them.

Then, she kissed down to your stomach, lips meeting the fabric of your panties at your hips, falling in love with your intoxicating smell. She smiled against your skin when you whimpered, hands gripping at her shoulders as she made her way down between your legs. Delicate kisses and hickeys were littered onto your inner thigh while Wanda used hooked your lace panties with her two thumbs.

It’s unfair how sexy you looked underneath her right now, legs all ready and eagerly spread for her, with eyes that were just begging for her to take you. Wanda felt like her knees would give out at any moment. And all she could think about was how good you’ll taste.

She dragged your panties down your legs slowly, watching the piece of clothing slide across your skin, noticing the deep blush on your cheeks every time she glanced up at you. Wanda almost moaned at the sight again — pretty purple bruises littered all over your skin, all her doing, your parted lips panting for air already, even though she hasn’t touched you down there yet.

“So perfect like this,” Wanda mumbled absentmindedly, fingertips traveling up your thigh as she sighed in adoration. “Is this okay?”

“Yes, Wanda, please,” you whined as you squirmed underneath her.

“Show me where you want me.”

Wanda smiled when you reached for her hand, your fingers slipping into her palm as you held her softly, leading them slowly to your slick pussy. Fuck. Finally, she dipped a finger into your glistening sex, eliciting a moan coming from your mouth. She couldn’t help but groan at how tight you felt, how wet you felt. All because of her. She was the one that made you like this. Not Natasha. Not anyone else. Her. And it made her feel like she was on top of the world.

Wanda leaned forward, finally licking a long stripe through the folds of your pussy, watching your face closely as she did so. Your face contorted into an expression of pure bliss, jaw hanging as you rolled your eyes back at the feeling of Wanda’s tongue. She moaned at the taste of you, so sweet and delicious. Your legs quivered against her face as she continued to lick you up and down, teasing your clit and the entrance of your pussy. The little whimpers you let out every second made Wanda’s heart soar, and it was even almost enough to make her come from just that alone. You bucked your hips when Wanda finally stuck her tongue out, entering your delicious, wet pussy, humming in pleasure against you as she ate you out. She held your hips down, to keep you from squirming away from her.

“Oh, fuck, Wanda—“

Your fingers raked through Wanda’s hair, tugging at it as she continued to devour you. You tasted divine. And she never thought you could make such sweet noises. They were sounds that she wanted to keep hearing again, and again, and again, and again. She should’ve made a move sooner, regretting all the times she missed out on opportunities that would lead her to this, to finally be with you, to finally have you.

“You’re so cute when you moan my name,” she said, keeping her mouth on you as she spoke, feeling vibrations against your clit. “Makes me want to ruin you, (y/n).”

Wanda wraps her mouth around your clit and sucked hard, having to hold you down firmly as you began to quiver against her with your hips jerking and thighs trembling immensely. Wanda was drunk on the taste of you, devouring you shamelessly, needing to hear you moan for her and come for her. Your back arches, feeling a tight sensation creep up in your lower belly, as you pull at Wanda’s hair even harder, making her groan against you. She was obsessed with how wet and warm you felt on her tongue. She felt that she could eat you all night with no rest.

You trembled and trembled, chanting Wanda’s name like a prayer, until the band that was holding you together finally snapped, coming directing onto her tongue. She moaned as you came, doing nothing to slow her efforts, continuing to fuck you through your orgasm. You shivered and screamed into your pillow, tears running down your face at the overwhelming sensation. The moan that falls from your lips as you gush into her mouth does nothing but leave her wanting more and more.

“W-Wanda, wait, I—“ you tried to call out to her, hands now pushing slightly at her seemingly immovable head.

Wanda replaced her tongue with her fingers, sliding two of them into you with ease, “Shh, baby, just one more, please… Fuck, I need you to cum again.”

She practically begged you. She crawled up towards your face, and you could finally see her after having her head burrows in between your legs for what seemed like hours. Her chin glistened with your slick, a devious smirk just right above it as she watched you moan over and over. Your jaw slacked, feeling her fingers knuckle-deep inside of you, curling against all the right spots. You wrapped your arms around her neck, holding her close to muffle your moans against her shoulder as she leaned down to nuzzle into yours, her other hand moving to palm your breasts.

Her fingers continued to fuck you into oblivion, feeling you clench tightly around her digits as you cried into her shoulder. Eventually, she pushes a third finger into you, using her thumb to rub your bundle of nerves in tight circles as you tried to chase your high all over again. And before you know it, you made a mess all over her fingers, legs trickling with your juices. And Wanda felt like she fell in love all over again.

Wanda’s fingers slowed, letting you ride out your high as you trembled against her. Her face was buried in the side of your neck, savoring the warm feeling of your body against hers as it quivered and jerked after your orgasm. You couldn’t help but feel like you were still cumming as you laid there, tired and in a daze, still trying desperately to catch your breath.

“Wanda…” you breathed out slowly.

Wanda immediately pulled her head back to look at you, feeling her breath against your face, “Yeah, baby?”

“I told you to wait, you idiot,” you huffed out with a pout, slapping her chest playfully. “I don’t have extra bedsheets and I just made a mess.”

All Wanda could do was laugh deeply, dropping her head down to rest it on your shoulder, with you following in suit shortly after. Your laughter filled the air around both of you, It was a moment of pure joy, as the both of you lay there in bed, wrapped up in each other's arms, bodies entwined, and hearts connected. Wanda couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of happiness as she gazed down at you, her face alight with a smile that reached all the way to your eyes and your tear stained cheeks. She could feel the warmth of your body, the softness of your skin, and the weight of her love, and it was a feeling that filled her with a sense of wonder and gratitude. As you laughed together, Wanda felt a sense of freedom and release, as if all her cares, worries and jealousy had vanished.

“Sorry, darling,” she replied with a smile.

And as Wanda’s laughter subsided, much sooner than yours did, she leaned down to kiss you, letting you feel the sweet taste of yourself and her and the love on her lips.

It was a moment that Wanda would cherish forever, a memory of laughter, love, and pure happiness that would stay with her for as long as you were with her.

taglist: @stonemags @randomnessbecausewhynot @marvelwomenarehot0 @dubleshcpi @unalomest @florojas @king-princess-1950 @franfineashell @mamawanda @jemilyswhor3 @hgwellswh13 @chiar4anna @chibilauren @julirey06 @wifeofnatasharomanoff

note — i also tagged those who asked about a part two since i can’t reply to comments so here it is! i hope u enjoy and thank u for reading <3

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#bellaveux writes!#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader #marvel x reader #marvel #the scarlet witch #wanda maximoff fanfiction

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