#GIVE ME MY MOTHERFUCKING DEGREE

[knifebucket]

just shot nyquil over chamomile because my advisor bulk texted his grad students that there's no guidelines for him to still advise us when he's on sabbatical even though he promised he would when he left and I have no contact with the rest of my committee and no connection to my original thesis and my grad program has tried to force me out from the minute I had correspondence with them and if I don't force myself to sleep I will absolutely smash something into sawdust thinking about how fucking ass backwards getting my masters degree has been

[palmettoshenanigans]

I fucking- I can't find it right now, but whichever one of you motherfuckers said Andrew's 'lack of control' was actually just intentionally calculated releases of pressure, that he was always in control when he lashed out because he lashed out in very specific and measured degrees - every single 'too far' was always 'just enough', its just no one else saw the raging volcanic inferno brewing just beneath the floorboards cus they were too distracted by how ear piercing the sound of the tea kettle going off was-

You're so sexy and I love you, but I wanna respond to you in spirit cus I can't find your post babes

We love 'biblically accurate' and 'devil's sacrament' as religious phrases yea? Well, my favorite (aside from 'heated fellowship', a black christian euphemism for fucking nasty) happens to be to 'know' or more specifically to 'know biblically', another word/phrase for fucking someone nasty.

stay with me this is going somewhere i promise pack a bag if you must

The interpretation I was raised with was that sexual intimacy was so vulnerable and exposing of one's most inner authenticity (that which apparently only God had such access to) that sex could make someone Know and See you the way Christ did (yadda yadda, "only fuck other Christians cus they'll be saved and sanctified enough to honor that blessing", yadda yadda) ANYWAY

THE POINT IS

You ever have someone in your life who just,,, saw you? Like, they could take one look at you and just Intuit Through The Vibes that something was up? Like they could just feel your energy and knew what to do or say or whatever? The kind of person who could walk into a room where you're minding your own business, doing something mundane, and they take one cursory scan of your posture and immediately ask "What's wrong?" like,,, what??? why do you ask??? what do you mean 'you can tell', I'm not fucking doing anything???

The kind of being seen for who you are that just leaves you feeling kinda exposed and tender? The kind of thing that leaves you bereft and yearning if you've never experienced it before (or had but lost it) because it feels like everyone only likes different mirages of you?

Andrew and Neil are so Relationship Of All Time because they seemed to See and Know each other like that even before they started locking lips on rooftops.

When Neil said "I want to see you lose control", i'm imagining Andrew probably felt so naked and flayed because everyone assumed he was perpetually losing his grip. On his anger, on his sanity, on reality, on his control. But like,,, Op's Spirit Of Post Long Lost, you were so fucking right. Every bit of Andrew's behavior was carefully calculated and intentionally released packages of what was his True Inner Turbulence that he would never dare release out into the open because that's not a target he's willing to give anyone a chance at aiming for.

Out of control? Andrew hasn't been that since he was probably a tween.

But Neil had never been fooled. From cigarettes and airport pickups to cigarettes and rooftop altercations, not once had he fallen for the mirage.

Without ever having needed to touch him in that way, Neil Knew Andrew. Biblically.

And that's why Andrew simply had to engage him in heated fellowship.

[luxurychristmaspudding]

You and I | On Call

part iv

summary: frankie has one last question.

pairing: neighbour!frankie morales x f!reader

ratings/warnings: 18+, MDNI. dual pov. idiots in love, reader is good with kids. reader and frankie are both bi and have same sex exes. fluff, drinking. praise kink. the boys (minus tom). SMUT! fingering, oral (f&m receiving), unprotected p in v. cum kink? creampie. frankie retains the title of pek 👑

reader is a teacher, has hair, and can be lifted by frankie (he's a big strong boy, don't worry about it) but she is otherwise a blank slate.

wc: 10.8k

an: well, here we are gang. thank you for joining me and for all your sweet words. i've been so awful with reblogging your kindness on this little thing because of how busy i was when i wrote most of it, but i want you to know i appreciate it so much. i've loved sharing these two with you - it's been a privilege <3

shoutout to @jolapeno for helping me with the chapter name, and for very gently reminding me that 20k chapters probably should be split 😉 love you <3

dividers from the glorious @saradika-graphics

series masterlist | main masterlist

When he wakes, it’s well past twelve. 

Nine hours which he imagines he probably needed, but really it puts him two hours behind.

He showers and dresses in a rush, running out the door to his truck, but still taking the time to register that your curtains have remained closed. It makes him smile, knowing you’re likely still tucked up in bed, your stories about the night before resting before they make their way to him.

He practically sprints around the supermarket, grabbing anything that even vaguely crosses his mind as something he might need. Meat, bread, salads of sorts, sauces, soft drinks, beers. He picks up your favourite dessert just in case, and then hauls the bags back to the truck, keeping a nervous eye on the time as his fingers tap against the steering wheel. 

Will and Benny are already there when he gets home. Grinning, leaning against Will’s car as he pulls into the driveway.

There’s a sharp pull of joy in his chest even as Will laughs out a ‘You’re late, Fish’, pounding his back as he pulls him into a hug.

‘Can’t be late to my own fuckin’ house.’ He grumbles back, pulling Benny in in the same way.

‘Can, and you are.’ The younger man laughs. 

‘Thought you might be out with your lady.’ Will teases, and Frankie flushes right to the tips of his ears. 

‘She’s still asleep.’ He says without thinking, a smile pulling at his lips. It’s comical, really, the way the two men freeze and look at each other. ‘Help me with these bags, will you?’

The brothers remain unmoving, staring at him with some degree of bewilderment.

‘Still asleep?’

Frankie sighs, a little exasperated.

‘Yeah. She was out last night.’

Will’s eyes wander to Frankie’s bedroom window just as Benny’s mouth begins to form a question. The realisation dawns quickly.

‘Not in my bed,’ he scowls, ‘Next door.’

‘Oh.’

He turns his back on them, heading to his front door, arms laden with groceries. A nervous, giddy feeling swirls in his stomach.

‘Had us going for a minute there, Fish.’ Will calls after him. Frankie bites his lip against the memories of you in your living room, the desperate kisses you’ve shared since. He feels like a teenager, on the verge of spilling secrets like he’s at a sleepover.

He hums instead, flicking a glance over his shoulder to see Benny grab more stuff from the back of the truck. He grunts and grimaces under the weight, shooting a look at Frankie.

‘What do you have in here? Are we feeding the five thousand?’

Will laughs, loading his own hands with bags, tutting at his little brother.

‘Aren’t you supposed to be the athlete here?’

Benny drops one bag just to give him the finger.

‘This is my rest day, motherfucker.’ 

He groans again as he picks the bag back up, Frankie laughing along with Will.

‘Lift with your knees, not with your back!’ He shouts.

‘Quit telling me what to do, asshole!’ Benny hollers, the older men still chuckling as he shoulders the front door open. 

Santiago arrives not too long after, setting up the last of the food - the salads out on the table, more beers in the fridge. They’ve all clocked Frankie checking his watch, checking his phone, your text that you’d be over in the next five minutes burning a fucking hole in his pocket.

He’s nervous. And they can tell.

He has the distinct impression he’s being cornered when they all turn to look at him at the same time as he fiddles with the burner on the grill. It feels ridiculous - this desire for everything to be perfect. You’ve seen him in all of his less-than-perfect moments, have never shied away. But this - today - feels different.

Pope leads the offence.

‘How’s your girl then, Fish?’

Frankie’s heart drops low in his chest before thumping hard behind his ribs, a hand coming up to try and wipe the sudden smile from his lips. He tries a gruff tone, failing miserably as soon as he speaks.

‘She’s not my girl.’

Will whistles lowly, smirking.

‘Still? We gonna have to smush you together like Barbies?’

Benny snorts, and Frankie shoots him a look which immediately makes him straighten and soften.

‘We won’t. They won’t. Scout’s honour.’

Santi takes a pull from his beer, a glint in his eye.

‘No progress at all?’ He probes.

Frankie takes a deep breath, eyes lowered to the floor before finding the deep brown of his best friend.

‘We’re… seeing each other.’ He murmurs, this time unable to hide his smile, hand scratching at the back of his head.

Silence. Quiet that puts Frankie even more on edge as he watches his friends exchange looks, as a slow smile tilts the corners of Benny’s lips.

‘Well - that’s an improvement.’ Will grins.

‘A marked improvement.’ Santi agrees.

‘So you told her how you feel?’ Benny asks, eyebrows raised.

Frankie sucks air through his teeth, clears his throat. His face grows warm, fingers twitch a little.

‘Not quite -’

Will barks a laugh. 

‘Morales, you dog.’ Followed by the deep rumbles of amusement from the other two men.

‘Oh, the tried and true manoeuvre - the Catfish Canoodle.’ Benny snickers.

‘The Morales Marathon.’ Will adds, tilting his bottle to him. Pope is next, grinning lasciviously.

‘The good old Five Finger Fish Fu-’

‘Frankie?’ You call from inside the kitchen, ‘I have beers, but there’s no room in the fridge -’

You pop your head round the backdoor, beaming immediately when you catch sight of the men in the garden.

‘Oh! Hi,’ you say brightly, emerging fully. Frankie’s heart stutters. You’re wearing that sundress he remembers - hasn’t been able to forget - from when he mowed your lawn weeks ago. Gorgeous, the way it drapes over your curves, the way it lets your skin glisten in the afternoon light. He feels his shoulders drop, his whole body relax. Feels the way he goes a little weak at the knees, knows he’ll be looking lovesick in front of the boys. And he doesn’t care.

‘Sorry I’m a little late,’ you say, hopping down the porch steps towards them, ‘I wish I had a good excuse, but I just - don’t.’ 

Benny laughs, moving with Will and Santi to greet you. Frankie just about catches the look Santiago throws him, a sweet holy shit, brother.

‘Ah, the elusive neighbour. We were starting to think he’d made you up.’ Pope says, matching your smile. You giggle, arms outstretched as he reaches you.

‘Funny,’ you smirk, ‘I was thinking of not turning up just to prove you right.’

He laughs as he releases you, Benny sweeping you into his arms and planting a kiss on your cheek.

‘Even more beautiful than he said you were,’ he says, and Frankie watches your eyebrows shoot up as you fix him with an oh, really? look. His heart drops to his stomach, neck grinding in an effort to shake his head before a shit-eating grin splits across your face. 

‘I had no idea he was so - complimentary - behind my back.’ You laugh against Will’s shoulder as he spins you around.

‘Oh, he is,’ he chuckles, placing you gently down with your back to Frankie. Frankie glowers at him half-heartedly as Will winks back, and the dark-haired man raises a finger, mouthing at him to shut - the fuck - up. ‘Feels like we’ve known you for ages.’ Will continues.

You turn, planting your hands on your hips, cocking your head at Frankie.

‘Just can’t stop talking about me, huh, Fish?’ You tease, and Frankie huffs as he pulls you in for a lingering hug, wondering if it’s too much to kiss you in front of his friends.

‘Guess not.’ He whispers into your ear.

You’re biting your lip as you pull away from him, hands lingering on his shoulders as his stall on your waist.

Will clears his throat. 

‘You gonna introduce us then, Morales?’

Frankie rolls his eyes at him as he turns you around, hands at your hips, pointing a finger at each friend.

‘William Miller,’ he says, as Will pulls a face - just Will is fine - ‘Benjamin Miller,’ - Benny, please - ‘And Santiago Garcia.’

‘I’m only Santiago when I’m in trouble,’ Which is most of the time, Benny laughs. ‘Santi is much better.’

You grin as you give them your name, and Will nudges your arm with his elbow.

‘I thought we were on Bug terms.’

You laugh, batting his arm.

‘You can call me Bug if you really want to.’

Benny shrugs, squinting his baby blues at you.

‘Maybe,’ he grins, ‘But your name suits you. It’s pretty. I like it.’

Frankie rolls his eyes again, squeezing your waist against the flicker of possessiveness that rises in his gut. It’s nothing more than teasing, kindness - something they’ve almost always extended to partners welcomed into the fold. But he’s not blind - they’re a handsome group, and he wants you to himself.

‘You gotta stop that,’ you giggle, ‘Before I wanna hang out with you guys all the time.’

Will throws a gentle arm around your shoulder, leaning back to wink at Frankie.

‘Hear that, Fish?’ He chuckles, ‘She’s in.’

He groans.

‘It’s not too late to back out,’ he murmurs lowly in your ear, ‘Though we’ve got a fuckton of food.’

His heart leaps as he feels your fingers reach for his, tangling briefly before squeezing. 

‘I’m stayin’,’ you promise, as Will moves around you to turn the grill on. ‘You guys put on a hell of a spread, anyway.’

From behind, Will claps a hand on Frankie’s shoulder, shunting the younger man forward a little.

‘That would all be Fish. Must be a special occasion.’ He smirks, and Frankie looks up to the heavens to try and stop his wish for the ground to swallow him up.

‘Sure is,’ you smile, ‘Feelin’ pretty lucky to be meeting you guys.’

‘Pleasure's all ours, kid.’ He grins.

Frankie smiles softly at you, brown eyes filled with something warm.

‘Want a drink?’ He asks.

You smack your lips, hand grabbing at your throat.

‘Please, Fish,’ you gasp, ‘I’m parched.’

The screen door has barely shut behind you before he has you backed against his kitchen counter again, stealing kisses like you’re about to get caught.

His lips are slow, sweet, hands so lazy, so indulgent in the way they hold you you’re not sure it’s really happening, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He crowds you a little closer, licking into your mouth as he fists the skirt of your dress, palming at your ass. You barely manage to catch your breath before he’s mouthing at your neck, nipping at the skin there as you huff against him. 

‘Good time last night?’ he breathes against your shoulder. You nod, eyes shut tight.

‘Yes,’ you gasp, ‘Really good time.’

‘Good,’ he murmurs, ‘I’m glad.’

You moan softly as he grips your hips, pulling you up against his thigh. There’s a thrill to it, knowing the boys are just outside. It makes your blood run hotter. Dangerously hot - no-turning-back hot.

‘Should get back outside. Before they wonder where we’ve gone.’

‘Don’t care,’ Frankie rasps, tugging at your dress again, ‘This fucking dress drives me insane.’

You nip at his bottom lip as his mouth meets yours again.

‘You’re driving me fucking insane,’ you gasp, lips tipping upwards, ‘In your kitchen, humping your leg like a dog in heat -’

He groans against you, forehead knocking against yours as he breathes heavily.

His eyes are almost black, palms warm and rough as they cradle your cheeks.

‘Once they leave,’ he whispers, ‘We’re spending a week in my bedroom. Or yours. I don’t care which.’

A whimper slips up your throat, mouth pressed hotly against his again as you start to count how many hours until it might be acceptable to drag him away. One hand slips from your cheek to your waist, inching up until he can squeeze at your breast, running a thumb over your nipple. You shudder, whole body ignited. 

‘Fuck.’ He breathes.

‘Frankie -’

‘Hey! Lover boy,’ Pope whistles from behind the screen door. You leap apart at the sound of his footsteps on the porch. ‘Hope you’re decent in there, I’m coming in -’

Santi appears, grinning widely as he pushes his way into the kitchen. He shields the side of his face facing you with a hand. ‘I’m not looking,’ he says, ‘But we’re gonna get grilling.’

‘We’re not naked, Pope.’ Frankie says, bemused. You giggle as Santi drops his hand.

‘Thank God,’ he sighs, before fixing you with a look, ‘I’ve seen enough of this man’s ass to last me a lifetime.’

He’d hoped it would be easy, knew that they’d love you. But he’s never seen these three men take to someone the way they have you.

He smiles as you stand with Will at the grill, watches the brotherly affection develop in real time. The soft smack of your palm against the older man’s shoulder, snorts of laughter, whispered jokes and more serious stories swapped. Frankie relaxes into it more and more, gazing at you over Benny’s shoulder. 

When he brings more food over to cook, Will stays stood by his side as you take his place with Benny and Santiago. The three of you huddled around the crackling firepit, hooting with laughter. He catches his own name a few times, turns to find you watching him with shining eyes as Pope and the younger Miller brother no doubt regale you with embarrassing stories from his youth. Things he hasn’t thought to tell you, things he may well have forgotten. And you fill a chair so easily, so effortlessly, it’s like you’ve always been there.

Clinks of cheersing bottles, conspiratorial shoulder bumps, lowered heads and loud exclamations and giggles. He feels like he’s in a fucking coming of age movie.

‘She’s a keeper, brother,’ Will murmurs to him over the lip of his beer bottle. He turns to him, a little surprised, but Will looks so at ease, so content with his little smile, that he knows there’s no bullshit there. ‘Fuckin’ funny. And smart as hell.’

Frankie hums, busying himself with flipping a burger. His hands are a little shaky - even after everything that’s happened over the last week, there’s still something that’s keeping him unsteady. The rock of a world turned on its axis, the deep want of willing this to work - because he loves you. So fucking much.

‘Don’t go all shy on me now, Fish.’ Will says, turning with him so his back is to you.

‘’M not.’ Frankie says, softly. Will sucks a breath through his teeth, squinting up at the sun just over the roofline of your house.

‘Do you remember what I was like when I first met Charlotte?’

Frankie looks at him - the beard, the hair pulled back, the clear blue of his eyes. He nods.

‘And the way you wound me up? How I was always looking for her, always checking for her? And at the end of the night, you asked when I was buying the ring?’

Frankie chuckles at the memory, the comment made stood at the bar with his best friend, manifesting the future he’d have. The ring that now sits on Charlotte’s finger, the wedding planned for the end of the year.

‘I do.’

Will looks back at him, teeth exposed with his smile. Teasing, full of humour, but it’s genuine, not goading.

‘When are you buying the ring, Frankie?’

Blood rushes to his head so fast he feels dizzy, so fast he has to put the tongs down. He scoffs, the way it sounds out loud so outlandish, but something pierces deep through his chest at how clearly Will sees through him.

Because he’s thought about it.

He shakes his head, swallowing roughly. There’s nothing he can say. Anything like not even my girlfriend yet would sound like a denial. But admitting it, that secret thought, even to Will, feels insane.

He’s still grinning at him.

‘I know it when I see it, Fish,’ Will continues, ‘And I know what you’re thinking.’ He pauses, shrugs. ‘Bring her to the wedding. She might catch the bouquet.’ 

He can’t move. Can’t turn to look at you, he’s sure his cheeks are burning so brightly. Can’t even twist his head when Benny calls,

‘Are you done grilling over there? We’re starving.’

He can’t stop thinking about it. Can't stop his whirring brain as the five of you eat, passing sauces and salads. Can’t stop thinking about a future, a life with you as you sit across the table from him, meeting his eye, chatting, laughing. Can’t stop the thoughts from ploughing through him as your foot catches his under the table, can hardly swallow his burger against the words lumping in his throat. Can’t stop the pounding of his heart when he catches you gazing at him halfway through a story, chin cupped in your hand, looking at him like he hung the moon and stars - can’t stop wondering whether you’ve ever pictured the same. 

He’s barely snapped out of it when the plates are stacked and carried through to the kitchen, bits of salad and smudges of sauce halfway cleared up before you pile outside again, Will and Santi jostling over the chair free from the smoke of the firepit. You walk with him and Benny, the younger man listening to you talk with such interest, such fondness already, that Frankie wonders whether he’s too young to have a heart attack. 

He’s only pulled from the conversation by the crack of broken furniture, the three of you stopping short and quiet as Will wheezes, sprawled on the ground atop the remnants of the coveted chair. He holds a hand up in the air, craning his neck at Frankie.

‘His fault,’ he croaks, pointing at Santi, who holds his palms up in surrender. 

‘Not my fault that he’s so heavy.’

You trap a giggle between your teeth and bottom lip as Frankie and Benny start to laugh, Will scrambling to his feet with the help of Frankie’s outstretched hand. 

‘Santiago.’ Benny snickers, and your bright eyes find Frankie’s.

‘Well. Now you are in trouble.’

Frankie grins, fixing Santi with a faux stern look.

‘In so much trouble you’re gonna have to sit on the floor.’ He chuckles, and Pope pouts.

‘My knees will never recover, Fish, and you know that.’

He shrugs, settling into a chair at the same time as Benny and Will. You stay standing, warring silently with yourself before you gesture to the empty seat for Santi to take. 

‘It’s yours,’ you smile, nervous as you turn to Frankie. ‘Is this seat taken?’ You ask, looking pointedly at his lap.

His eyes blow wide for a second, breath caught in his chest. Unsure, for a moment, of your meaning, ready to give the chair up for you. You raise an eyebrow, palm lowering gently onto his shoulder.

‘No.’ He rasps, blissfully unaware of Will’s smirk.

‘Good.’ You say, lowering yourself onto his thighs, an arm around his shoulders, his around your back, hand at your hip. He swings your legs over his without thinking, and you settle, limbs tense at first, before shuffling a little to get comfortable.

To their credit, the boys don’t make it a thing. They continue the conversation as normal as the two of you join in, wrapped up together, crowing with laughter as your bodies vibrate against each other. 

You hold each other closer as the evening wears on. Head resting against his chest, nuzzled against the fabric of his t-shirt. Laundry detergent, light scent of cologne, the warmth of his skin. His hands are broad and calloused where they cradle you, so easily - never a limb falling slack, never goosebumps that go unsoothed. He rubs his thumb against your thigh in soft semi-circles, leans his cheek against the top of your head, breathing in your shampoo. 

Lets himself be warmed by the pressure of your body against his, willfully ignores his cock when it twitches hopefully as you shift. Which is hard, as you begin to shift more and more the later it gets, the hotter you burn above him. And as hard as you try, you just can’t keep still. Can’t stop trying to find relief for the ache in your core, the wetness pooling in your underwear. 

He finally grips your hips against a particularly wicked wriggle, head dipping to growl in your ear.

‘Stop, baby. Please.’ And it works for a moment - only a moment - as you’re frozen by the flashbacks of him unravelling beneath you eight days ago. Eight days too long.

As though he’s read the shift in atmosphere, Will stands and stretches.

‘I’m heading in,’ he says, rolling his head on his shoulders. ‘The spare room calls.’

You stand, reluctantly, and Frankie is quick to readjust himself as inconspicuously as possible. Will gives you a sweeping hug, kissing just before your ear as you say a muffled see you tomorrow into his shoulder. Frankie takes his outstretched hand, pulling him into a back-clapping embrace of sorts, and when he pulls away he’s surprised to see Benny and Pope also bidding you goodnight. He checks his watch. 

It’s not even eleven.

His eyes twitch from you to the boys as he works out whether you’re heading back to yours, too.

Santi catches the look, slapping a hand onto his shoulder as he whispers a do not come back into this house, pendejo. He looks over your shoulder at Benny as Will makes you giggle again, and is met with the firm waggle of a finger.

Stay, he mouths.

Fuck you, Frankie mouths back, watching their backs retreat into his house. 

The backyard falls quiet, only the snap of logs in the fire, the buzzing of insects, and the rush of blood in his ears to be heard.

You turn, facing him in the dark, half your face lit by the dying embers of the fire pit. 

‘Are you - are you tired?’ He asks softly, afraid of disturbing the hushed moment.

‘No,’ you whisper, ‘Are you?’

He shakes his head, swallowing thickly.

‘No.’

You nod, gentle smile pulling at your lips.

‘Good.’

You step towards him, slowly, like something out of a dream. Glowing in the low light, sparkling with something divine.

You cup his cheeks with both hands, press your body in a firm line against his, hoping to convey exactly what you mean through the touch. Affection, of course, love, adoration - everything you’ve been planning on giving him over the last week, but now, more pressingly - want. Pure, unadulterated want. 

You tip your head to slant your mouth against his, hot, heavy, teeth clashing at the initial meeting, breath mingling, tongues licking into each others’ mouths. You tug at the back of his neck, hand buried in the soft curls there, yanking his head back a little to open his mouth up to you. You let go. Lips suckling at his tongue, teeth nibbling at the pillow of his lower lip. Further. Pecking at the scruff of his jaw, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his neck. Nipping, raising red on his skin, before soothing it with a tortuously slow lick of your tongue.

Your breathing is so heavy, hands so feverish, you lose the sense of where you end and he begins. Feel fingers scrabbling for purchase, bruising grips, on you and him. One scorching palm runs the length of your dress down to the top of your thigh, grabbing at the flesh there. You shift your stance, moaning into his mouth, finding that hand with your own, moving it closer to that burning place between your legs. Frankie follows your lead.

You press his hand up, and his knuckles graze along the sodden fabric of your panties, lips falling away from his as you whine and he groans. You’re soaked, wetter still as he runs the length of his fingers up and down the material clinging to your pussy, feeling the bite of your teeth as you try to muffle yourself against his collarbone. 

He shushes you, coos at you, pressing a particularly firm stroke against your cunt that makes your legs shake as he asks you -

‘You gonna let me feel it, baby?’

You gasp against his mouth, nodding feverishly. He chuckles, slowing the pace of his kiss so he can really focus on how soft, how warm and wet you are as he pulls your panties to the side with deft fingers, slicking them up before swirling them around your clit. A stuttered breath escapes you, cutting off into a loud, unabashed moan as he slowly, slowly fucks his fingers into you. He sinks right down to the bottom knuckle, kisses forgotten as he breathes raggedly against your cheek, feeling you clench and whimper around him. He curls them slightly, and your knees practically buckle, stomach contracting, hands grasping at his shirt.

‘Frankie,’ you plead, almost losing your train of thought as he plants a kiss just behind your ear. ‘Take me to bed.’

He pumps his fingers, once, runs his thumb softly over your clit before withdrawing them altogether, mouth slanted firmly against yours, stifling your whine. You stumble a little, pulling at the collar of his shirt for him to move with you before pausing briefly, watching as he brings his fingers to his lips. He slips them deep inside, groaning around them, eyelids fluttering as he takes in the taste of you. Your breathing is heavy as he slips them from his mouth, offering them to you. You take them willingly, bobbing your head to feel how thick and heavy his fingers are on your tongue, the taste of your slick diluted with his spit making your mouth water. He stares as you flick the muscle between and around his digits, brow furrowed, eyes dark, before he retracts them. You frown at him, and he licks into your mouth with such ferocity you’re quick to forget your disappointment. 

‘Yours. Now.’ He murmurs, and then you’re grinning, running. Sprinting over his lawn, hopping the fence on unsteady legs, striding towards your porch. You slam up the steps, glancing behind you only once to watch him follow you. Giddy with want, warm all over, soaking wet, you can't help but look for him.

For the first time since you moved next door, Frankie willingly hops the fence. 

He catches up to you before you can get the front door open, clutching your hip, turning the handle with the other. He backs you into the hallway, kicking the door shut behind him, shoes toed off blindly. There’s no reprieve from his lips, no other thought than his hands on your body, guiding you into your living room, hips bumping into furniture, deaf to the clatter of objects falling - not a single fuck given over what - one hand - whose, you’re not sure - flying out to flick a lamp on before he’s crushing you against the sofa. 

Calves to the furniture, you fall, and he follows you - two hands braced either side of your head before returning to their homes on your cheek, your waist, your breasts. Palming at the flesh there, kneading, thumbing over your nipples. You’re gasping, rolling your hips in hopes you’ll catch against something, because he’s everywhere, only to come up empty every time. He lowers both hands, tongue running strongly against yours. One shifts your hips, the other pressing against your panties again.

‘Let me taste you,’ he groans, voice hoarse, ‘Please, baby. I have to - let me taste you.’

You nod fiercely, tugging on his curls again, mumbling a fuck, Frankie, yes, before he pulls away. His lips are spit-slick, swollen, cheeks flushed. Breathing haggard, eyes blown, curls frayed. He looks almost how he did a week ago. 

He holds your gaze for a moment, searching again, letting the question float through the air. You nod, softly, and he begins his descent. 

His lips are wet against your skin, leaving shining marks as he presses them to your clavicles, your breastbone, closing them around your covered nipples. He mouths at them, tongue dampening the fabric of your dress, warming, cooling, the fabric sticking to you in a way that makes your back arch. He works one with his fingers while his mouth is occupied, teasing them into peaks as you whimper and buck your hips beneath him. He watches you darkly, eyes heavy lidded, eyelashes almost fanned against his cheeks. And you ache. Ache so badly, so unforgivably. You can feel how wet you are - panties soaked, dampness all the way down into the cleft of your ass, smudging along the tops of your thighs. He waits until you whine again, louder, higher pitched, nails scraping in his curls, against his scalp - please Frankie, please - before he moves lower. More kisses pressed to your covered stomach, lower, lower, large hands pushing up the hem of your skirt, tracing every bit of skin they can find. He shifts on his knees to get closer as you lift your hips so he can shove your skirt all the way up, lips parting, eyebrows furrowing in a desperate look of need as he fixes his eyes to your clothed core, as you buck again at the look in his eyes, breathing heavily. His palms come together at the very tops of your thighs, thumbs brushing along the hem of your panties either side of your pussy. You huff again, hands leaving their clutch of the sofa to bury back into his curls, tugging him forwards. 

He groans, deep in his throat, easily led. Presses his nose to your clothed cunt, inhales deeply, grinds the tip just against your throbbing clit. You whimper, tugging once more, and he nuzzles your bud again, mumbling something into your heat.

‘Frankie -’ you gasp, ‘Frankie - if you don’t fuckin’ - touch me in the next thirty seconds, I’m gonna cry.’

‘I am touchin’ you,’ he growls against your hip, head tilted to look up at you. His hot breath on your skin has your flesh breaking out in goosebumps. You shake your head, frustration burning behind your eyes.

‘I want - your tongue -’ you pant, ‘Want to feel your mouth, Frankie.’

He groans, thumbs digging under the waistband of your panties to rip them down your legs, eyes never leaving your core as he reveals you - glistening, messy, wet, drooling for him. He splits his fingers into a V, spreading your lips as you keen and mewl above him.

‘You want me here?’ He rasps.

‘Yes,’ you breathe, ‘I fucking do.’

He finds it in himself to show you mercy.

The first stroke of his tongue is strong, wide. As though he’s trying to take as much of you in as possible in the first go - licking deep and long to taste your slick, tracing the dip of your hole, ending with a final swirl around your clit. Your chest shudders, eyes squeeze shut, hands tense in his hair.

‘Okay, baby?’ He asks, so soft.

You lick your lips.

‘Yeah.’

He pushes your at knees to spread your thighs wider apart.

‘Look at me.’ He says, and you crack your eyes open to watch as he manhandles your legs onto his shoulders, tilting his head as he considers, pushing them back towards your chest in order to find the best angle to eat you from. Fuck.

He’s not gentle, and he isn’t taking his time. 

The week you’ve waited, the months building up to this, do not mean you have the patience to make this last any longer than he’s already teased you for. He eats you like he’s starved, like he’s never tasted anything like the heaven between your legs. Long, firm strokes of his tongue, flicking at your swollen clit, watching as your head tilts forward, heavy, unable to tear your eyes from him. Chest heaving, something about the way you’re still wrapped in that fucking dress making him leak steadily in his jeans, cock straining against the zipper. He’s barely spared a thought for it so far, caught up in the way you look, the way you feel, smell, taste. He moves his grip from one of your knees to palm himself roughly, and you moan, watching him. 

Your lips part, and he knows, knows that you’re going to beg him to fuck you before the words even leave your mouth. And he will.

He just needs this first.

‘You’re gonna come in my mouth,’ he rumbles, stroking your clit with his thumb, levelling you with a dark, stern stare, ‘And then we can do anything you want. Just need to taste you like this first.’

He watches the pulse of your cunt, the gush of slick that escapes you at his words. Coos at you, so pretty, baby, before leaning back in.

Closing his lips around your pearl, sucking, flicking, tracing shapes - tracing the letters of his name against you - watching as you buck and cry and moan. You’re so fucking beautiful, leaking around him, wetting his chin, his lips, his cheeks. He can only taste you, only smell you. And it’s fucking divine.

Diving in as you bury your hands in his hair again, pulling his mouth closer, reeling in the soft plush of his lips, warm wet of his tongue, the sharp nip of his teeth against your skin. He lets you use him, lets you grind against his face, winding your hips against him. He holds his mouth open, tongue lapping where he can, mumbling against your skin. Blissed out, pussy drunk.

Yes, yes, fuck. Fuck, baby - use me. Use me, just like that. Take what you need, Bug. Taste so good, feel so fucking good.

His eyes dart from your cunt to your face - this beautiful mess you’re making, the fucked out, glassy look you watch him with. Mouth dropped open, brow scrunched in ecstasy, broken little pants and moans, cries of his name. He stretches an arm, a hand above his head, kneading at your breast, pinching your nipple, the other settling above your mound, thumb pulling back the hood of your clit. You shut your eyes quickly, your shout of fuck coming loud, a yelp.

He can taste how close you are, willing you to come with his eyes when you meet his gaze. His come, baby, is muffled, but it’s all you need. 

You break, back arching, breasts heaving, pussy fluttering and clamping around his tongue, heat blasting through your belly, a rush of bright white feeling pouring from you. Your hips freeze, jerk, twitch against him, and he closes his eyes briefly, worried that if he watches you ride the high the whole way through he’ll come in his fucking pants again. 

Your hands loosen in his hair, letting him lick and suck dazedly until he’s content. Nose pressed against you, inhaling, tasting as you whimper, thighs tightening a little around his head at the oversensitivity, and he backs away, pressing kisses to your thighs as your ragged breathing begins to ease into a more even rhythm.

He nips at your skin as you stare at him, something flooding your chest. You feel like you’re still riding that wave, feel like no one’s ever really eaten you like that, nobody’s ever really let you use them like that.

You bring a hand to his cheek, thumb tracing the glisten of you on his lips. He tilts his head into your palm, and you smile, mouth dry.

‘Where’d you learn to do that?’ You ask. It’s a dumb fucking thing to say, but you can think of nothing else that could quite explain the light-headed awe you’re feeling. He laughs, a deep rumble, real, into your thigh.

‘It’s a gift.’ He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your belly, shifting on his knees, adjusting himself. Your eyes soften, dropping to his hand.

He sees the question in your eyes again.

He leans forward, squatting, hands moving to the crease between your thighs and ass, before he stands, bringing you with him. You mouth at his neck as he stumbles to your stairs, taking them steadily, shouldering open your bedroom door through the darkness. 

He drops you where he knows the mattress, your bed will be, separating himself from you only briefly. He yanks the curtains shut as your fingers flick on a dim light - you’ll be damned if you're not watching this. 

He stops before you at the edge of the bed, between your legs. You reach out, looking up at him - sharp curve of his nose, chocolate of his curls illuminated by the light, the heat of his eyes, soft clench of his jaw, rough swallow of his throat. He reaches to stroke your hair, cupping the back of your head. You tug at the hem of his t-shirt, and he holds your hands, loosening them so he can pull it up over his head. And then he’s all golden tan, freckles. Stupidly broad shoulders, strong arms, muscle moving beneath the skin as he discards the garment on the floor. Curls of hair over his chest, down his softening stomach, down below the waistband of his jeans. The bulge straining against the denim there. You draw your hands down the lines of him, pausing only to trace the silvery mark of the scar on his abdomen. He sucks a sharp breath in at the tenderness, the intimacy, takes your fingers in his. Watches as you blink up at him, as you move to press your cheek against the heft of his cock, a kiss against his zipper. Hands making quick work of freeing him, tugging down the denim and his boxers. He steps out of them, bending only to pull his socks off, before he stills in front of you. His hard cock bobs against his stomach - you’re briefly distracted by his thighs, the delicious, smooth patches of skin where his hips meet his torso - but he is impossible to ignore. Thick, throbbing. Precum beading down the shaft, head flushed a heady, deep red, veins pulsing beneath the skin. Curved upwards, twitching beneath your gaze. You swallow thickly.

‘Holy shit.’

You don’t even realise you’d said it out loud until he laughs, a little bashful, a little proud. You look back up to him as you reach out, fingers wrapping around his base. Skin like silk, like gossamer, hot and strong. He hisses through his teeth, knees weak and hips bucking all at once. You pump once, twice, letting your breath fan over him.

‘So pretty,’ you murmur, ‘Prettiest cock I’ve ever seen.’

He flushes at your words, his retort dying in his throat when you wrap your lips around him, gently taking his head in your mouth, swirling your tongue in circles, dipping into his slit, teasing the skin on the underside. He watches, breath caught in his throat, head pounding as you dip forward, hands flat against his thighs, eyes fluttering blissfully as you take him deeper. Watches as he disappears inside your mouth, as he feels nothing but warm and wet, nothing but your tight swallow, your fluid grip at his base, the vibration of your hum, the glint in your eyes as you look up -

He retracts his hips reluctantly, sliding his cock from your throat. You try to follow, whining as you shift forward, still connected through a delicate line of spit and precum, stretching thin as he pulls you back with a firm hand in your hair. He breaks it with his fingers, letting his thumb catch the dribble of it against your chin. He offers the digit, and you obediently take it in your mouth to suck the mixture off. Your eyes are still wide, pleading. He smiles softly.

‘Not gonna last like that, baby,’ he mutters. ‘Wanna feel you this time.’

You pout, words slurred in your pleasure filled haze, eyes heavy lidded as you hold his gaze.

‘Wanna watch you come every way. Wanna make you come every way. Wanna - wanna taste it, wanna feel it, want you to cover me -’

‘Jesus fucking Christ,’ he grits, cock throbbing painfully at your words, head spinning. He never thought he’d hear you talk like that, cock drunk on the edge of your bed, mouth all sad without his dick in it. ‘Get this off.’ he hisses, tugging again at the hem of your dress, pulling it up as you hold up your arms. It comes easy, exposing your bare pussy, soft skin of your stomach, plush flesh of your breasts. 

There's so much blood south of his brain Frankie thinks he might pass out.

He bends to kiss you, groping at your tits again, fingers swiping fleetingly between your legs to find you still soaked.

‘Perfect,’ he growls, ‘So fucking perfect.’

You whimper, backing up across your sheets. He follows, both knees dipping onto the mattress, tongue searching for yours, pecks and nips pressed to your forehead, cheeks, lips.

Your hands find purchase wherever they can, squeezing the tops of his arms, nails grazing the skin, grasping the meat of his hips, tracing the contours of his belly, squeezing and stroking his cock. A deep groan rumbles in his chest again, and he's breaking the kisses to divert and scoot back against your pillows. You crawl to him, eye contact only broken as his eyes flick over your shoulder, and he freezes, shivers. You smile wickedly, guessing at what he can see. You pause between his legs again, lowering your head to kiss at his base, cup his balls, arching your back a little more so he can really see the angle you’re exposed at in the mirror behind you.

He doesn’t know where to look. Where your mouth and hands are, teasing at his cock again, or where he can see your glistening pussy, tilted up, shining, ready. 

He’s losing his fucking mind.

He reaches over, curling his body around yours to land a firm smack against your ass. You whimper at the contact, hot pant of air against his skin, eyes glassy again as he groans, watching the flesh ripple, watching the claim he has staked begin to form. 

You move to kneel, coming face to face, your eyes wide, wanton, desperate.

‘Fuck me, Frankie,’ you whisper, pleading. ‘Please, fuck me -’

He shakes his head, kissing your temple.

‘Gotta get you ready first, bebita,’ he breathes, pulling you closer, moving your legs. ‘Come here for me, turn around. Come closer. Like this.’ He arranges you so you’re sat, cradled between his legs, your back to his front. He spreads your legs wide, hooks them with his ankles so you can’t close them. Runs his hands down your body, your eyes tracing his movements - every squeeze, every pinch, every circle he draws. 

Your breath hitches as his hands travel lower, parting your folds again, feathering over your clit. You turn your head to speak directly into his ear.

‘Don’t tease, Morales.’ You purr. He chuckles, turning to peck at your lips.

‘I won’t, princesa.’

You cry out as he sinks two fingers inside your heat, making good on his promise. Your chin dips, but his spare hand comes up to cradle it gently, angling your head so you can watch him work you in the mirror. The two of you rendered speechless for a moment - just gasps, moans, the slick sounds of your cunt in the room. His dark eyes on yours over your shoulder, in the glass. The firm press, scissor, pulse, of his fingers inside you.

The silence is only broken by a ragged moan from you as he presses against that delicious, spongy spot tucked away inside you, and he chuckles in response.

‘Look at you, baby,’ he breathes in your ear, ‘So pretty. Been thinking about you like this all week.’

You moan as he curls his fingers at a particularly delicious angle, pressing the meat of his palm against your clit. Your hand closes around his wrist, keeping him there, pulling him away - a mix of both. The feel of him is too wonderful to be rid of, too much to take.

‘Longest fuckin’ week of my life.’ He growls, biting at your earlobe, flicking his wrist faster again, drawing a desperate cry from your lips. A pressure building, your pussy obscene in the quiet, so fucking wet, and you can hear Frankie thinking it, marvelling at how your body responds, how you leak and clench and writhe in his grip. 

There’s that pressure building again, your breath heaving in your lungs, cunt getting slicker, tighter. Frankie coos in your ear, his other arm still banded around your middle. You hiccup, moan, arch your back against him. 

‘Fuck,’ you murmur, ‘Fuck, close.’

He hums, tracing his nose along the fine skin of your neck.

‘Yeah?’ He says, voice cracking a little. ‘S’that good? Tell me. Tell me it’s good, baby.’

You whine again, thrashing your head against his shoulder, driving your hips down onto his fingers, pleading for more.

‘So good,’ you moan, ‘So fucking good, Frankie. You have no idea.’

You can feel him rutting against you - slowly - all velvet skin, wiry hair, sticky wetness. His mouth pressed to your shoulder, licking, nipping, kissing alternately, his fingers pressed deep inside you, other arm loosening around your middle, hand playing messily with your clit. His eyes in the mirror, trapping you there with him. Unashamed in their exploration of your body, greedy, watching your soaked cunt pull him in, the sopping sounds she makes as she tries to hold him there. You’re surprised at how hot it makes you feel, how wanted, how turned on. The streak of slick and sweat against your skin, Frankie's wet fingers that spread it there.

You whine again, skin burning, glistening with sweat. Tip your head back, onto his shoulder, to nip his skin impatiently between your teeth. 

‘Frankie,’ you murmur, breath sweet against his ear, ‘Wanna come on your cock.’

‘Fuck,’ he rasps, ‘Is that what you want? You want my cock?’

You moan again, louder, drunk on the feeling between your legs, his continued movement. 

‘Yes.’ You hiss, as he sucks a mark onto your neck.

‘Say it. Need to hear you say it.’

‘Want your cock. Need your cock, Francisco.’

You swear you see his eyes roll into the back of his head in the glass of the mirror, and then he’s moving fast, with precision.

He eases his fingers from your pussy, gentle, not a drop of hesitation. He pushes your hips until they rise, tilting your whole body forwards until you’re on your knees, hands pressed into the mattress. You feel like jelly, so loose and warm-limbed you’re sure you could be moulded into any shape he wished.

‘Good girl,’ he mumbles, pressing hot kisses against your shoulders, down your spine. ‘Good fucking girl.’ 

His hands are on your hips, ready to move you, but in a second, you’re turning to face him. He’s watching you, reverent, like he can’t believe you’re here, that he’s here. You place a knee on either side of his, one hand pulling at the curls at the nape of his neck, titling his head back so you can slant your mouth against his, licking between his lips as you lower yourself gently, rocking your soaked folds over his sensitive cock. 

The movement knocks the air from his lungs, mouth stuttering against yours, unable to kiss you back. Feeling you on his fingers was one thing, but having you sliding against him like this is a whole nother. You giggle at him, and a whimper clears the back of his throat.

‘You okay, baby?’ You smirk, voice hoarse. He supposes it’s only fair, now you’ve got the upper hand. He lets you keep it, hands roving desperately, kneading and pulling at the flesh of your ass, mouth dipping to your nipple, letting you glide over him. Now processing how hard he is, how painfully his cock throbs. 

He’s ready to be greedy, ready to find out how he fits inside you. 

He pulls you up, closer, by the hips. Grips his cock firmly between your legs, swipes it between your folds, making sure to bump against your clit just to hear you whimper.

You brace your hands against his chest as you rest your leaking hole against him, the tip just breaching the tight ring of muscle. You whine, scratching fine lines into his skin.

He swallows - so handsome. Dark curls, dark eyes. Strong body, a body that feels like home, like someone who has always kept you safe, has always made you feel seen.

‘Look at me,’ he says, for the second time. You drag your eyes to him, stalling your movements. He waits until he knows your brain has caught up with your body. ‘Slowly.’ 

You nod, lowering yourself against the blunt head of his cock, clenching your teeth at the sweet stretch. He anchors you with one hand cupped to your cheek, the other firm at your ass, listening to your hiccuped moans, your shuddering breaths, releasing his through his teeth. You’re so warm, so wet, so tight.

And he fills you to the brim. Every inch you take a marvel, pressing against every nerve ending, every tender spot, like he was made for you. You settle when you reach his base, clit catching on the wiry hairs there, rocking slightly to feel him even better, letting your slick soak him, feeling yourself pull tight, loosen, ebb, flow.

You knock your forehead with his, finding his eyes. Bright, fiery, needy. You close the space between you, kissing him as you pant together. Feeling so full, so open, forgetting every worry, every niggling doubt. You rest your head in the crook between his neck and shoulder, shaking as you lift your hips, feeling the thick glide of him, clenching, releasing, dropping back down slowly, again, listening to the squelch of him moving inside you, desperate, needy little noises leaving your mouth. It’s intoxicating - the more you move, the louder you get, the louder he gets. Deep rumbles of praise, heavy grunts, hands soothing, pinching every inch of skin they can find. You grind a little more on the downwards movement this time, keening at the scrape against that bundle of nerves again, choking on your words.

‘God.’

‘That’s it, Bu- baby.’ He groans, and a huff of amusement leaves you at the slip.

‘What, am I not Bug anymore?’

It’s breathless, your tease, not your usual gnashing comeback. He groans, teeth grazing the bud of your nipple.

‘I am not using the nickname my daughter gave you when I’m inside you.’

You giggle at the thought, body clenching a little. Frankie moans, open mouthed, eyes squeezing shut, hands grasping at you.

‘Don’t laugh,’ he gasps, ‘Holy fuck, please don’t laugh. I’ll come.’

You hum, giving in, dragging your body up and down again, smooth, slow, letting the feeling, the warmth, the pressure, the ache begin to build again. You lean back a little, one hand on his thigh, one loose on his shoulder, and the change in angle has you crying out, cursing, Frankie watching your face before his eyes fall down your body - beautiful, glistening in the orange light. The curve of your waist, the quickening bounce of your tits, and then your cunt. Watches as he disappears inside you, watches as you stretch around him, watches the glisten of your wetness down his length, where it’s tacky at the bottom, staining the two of you where you’re connected. You reach back with your other hand, moving faster, leaning back further so he can really watch you fuck yourself onto him.

Your movements grow hungrier, a little more uncoordinated; stomach tensing, mouth hanging open, cut off, broken cries of his name, feeling yourself wind tighter, spill more onto his lap. He runs a large palm down your body, thumb finding your clit, catching it, rubbing firm circles. He feels you clench for real this time, whole body shuttering at the feeling, your hand clutching his.

‘Fuck, Frankie -’ you gasp, ‘Please, I’ll -’

You’re cut off as he changes his rhythm, his pressure, finding the pace that makes you moan with every breath, mouth stretching in a smile.

‘You’ll what, princesa?’

You whine, huffing, thighs burning, release so close you can almost taste it.

‘Motherfucker -’ you bite, no real venom.

‘Words, baby.’ He coos.

‘I’ll come,’ you pant, ‘Frankie - I - I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come, please, gonna come, Frankie, Frankie, Frankie -’

You sob, loudly, euphoric as your orgasm shatters through you, body cramping, juddering. A gush of liquid between you, your pussy squeezing him tight, so tight -

‘Good girl, bebita, such a good fucking girl -’

And he’s flipping you, deftly, a hand protecting your skull, so you’re on your back, mind and body reeling as you continue to shudder, still calling out for him, nails carving pink half moons in his shoulders as you wrap your legs around his waist on instinct, the angle deepening, his body pressed flush to yours.

‘Fuck,’ he snarls, ‘Feel like heaven, baby, wanna watch you come every day, every hour, all the time -’ he’s babbling, he knows he is. But he’s caught up, entranced by how you look beneath him, his thrusts sloppy already, watching your eyes roll back, your chest heave, tits bounce. Lower again, where he’s fucking into you, soaked with your release. He winds a hand around the back of your neck, gently tilting your head to make you see what he’s seeing, to watch him fuck you.

You clench painfully around him, gasping - shit, Frankie, oh my God, so good, so good - your body rallying for another, senses overwhelmed, aflame with pleasure. He clutches your thigh, hitches your legs higher up his waist. Licks at your pulse point, sucks different mark there, leaning back to take you in again.

‘Look so pretty, bebita,’ he moans, ‘All fucked out on my cock like this.’

And it’s like a switch is flicked. Frankie sees it pass through your eyes, a wicked glimmer. The way the corners of your lips twitch, even as your eyelashes flutter at the sensation of him drawing his thick cock back out of you, even as your body whirs with a second orgasm.

‘Yeah, baby?’ you coo, ‘You like how I look taking your cock?’

He can’t say anything in reply, mouth only hanging open as you start to talk again.

‘Like how I look when I’m full of you? Wanna be full of you all the time, Frankie. Wanna feel you even when you’re not inside me like this. Wanna - fuck - wanna feel you dripping out of me -’

He groans roughly, almost animalistic.

‘Don’t say that.’ He grits.

You moan at his tone, fingers twisting through his hair, mind getting hazy as you flutter around him.

‘But I want it, Francisco,’ you rasp, ‘Want you to come inside me, want you to fuck me full of you -’

He bares his teeth a little, nipping at your bottom lip. Balls drawing up, heat at the base of his spine, faster, harder -

‘You want that?’

‘Please, Frankie.’

He moans again, sees stars when he closes his eyes, as your whimpers pitch higher.

‘Gonna come,’ you whisper, ‘Come, Frankie, please, come inside me -’

You’re not sure who’s first, you’re not sure who’s louder. A shout of your name, his name, ripping through the air, you clamping down around him, the jerk of him inside you as he paints your walls with his cum, fucking it into you as long as he can, the squelch, the sensitivity drawing out your highs.

He eases when it gets too much, rolling you onto your side, keeping you full until he softens enough to slip out, kissing all over your face. You share breath, teeth knocking against each other, tongues gliding along lips, whining as you feel him begin to drip out of you.

Fingers slipping against his damp skin, pulling him close, sharing whispered secrets, tugging him closer still when he starts to harden again against your thigh.

Hours slip by, the darkness behind the curtains blooming into something like daybreak. He tastes you again, fills you again, you make sure to take him in your mouth.

And when the first birds begin to sing, you are fast asleep in each others’ arms.

His fingers are tracing your shoulder, your face pressed to his chest, murmuring conversation in the light of the morning. Sun stretching through your clumsily closed curtains, rustle of the trees outside the window, cracked open for fresh air when the scent of sex was laying heavy in the room. Legs tangled together, further entwined in your sheets. 

In a moment of quiet, Frankie speaks.

‘Your picture’s fallen over.’

Twisting your head, you look to what he’s pointing out and snort, burying your face in his warm skin.

‘What?’ He asks, amusement curling the word.

You pull a face.

‘It didn’t fall over. I turned it over.’ You admit.

A beat.

‘Why?’ 

You rest your chin on his pectoral, taking in the crease of confusion between his brows. You lean to kiss it away, because you can, now. Because you never have to think about it without doing it again. 

You squeeze your lip between your teeth.

‘It’s uh - it’s a picture of me and Dad.’

He frowns again, eyes searching your face. You exhale.

‘I didn’t… I didn't want him to - see?’

He chuckles softly, pink dusting his cheeks as he swipes a hand across his jaw, thinking, remembering.

‘I didn’t see you do that -’

‘I did it before I came over.’

You cringe a little at the confession. Silly now that it’s happened, but still.

‘Before…?’

You nod. Mhm. A smile teases at his lips, eyes lighting with mischief.

‘But we didn’t - I mean - we didn’t plan it -’

‘I know,’ you groan, hiding your face again. ‘I just had a feeling.’

Frankie snorts, squeezing your hip.

‘Good feeling, baby.’

‘Asshole.’ You giggle, nipping his skin between your teeth.

He laughs again, shifting you in his arms so he can hold you properly.

‘Good job I didn’t try anything last week, then,’ he smiles, ‘Can’t have him thinking I’m not a gentleman -’

‘Frankie, you literally came in your pants -’

He gasps in mock offence, squeezing you tighter.

‘And so did you!’

You laugh, properly, against him, chests leaping against each other. You press your lips to his neck as he presses his to your hair.

‘Hell of a first kiss, though.’ He chuckles.

He feels you tense as your heart leaps in your ribs. 

One last secret.

He loosens his grip, watching you, a flicker of worry cooling his joy. You chew your lip, brow furrowing, eyes flicking from somewhere in the middle distance to meet his.

‘What, baby?’ He whispers. You inhale deeply.

‘How much do you remember from Pride?’

He grimaces, relieved at your answering smile.

‘After eleven? Not a lot.’

You hum, pulling yourself from his arms. He lets you go reluctantly, watching as you stand. Your gorgeous body - gorgeous curves, the places he’s gotten to know so well over the last few hours, the marks that have begun to bloom after his lips and teeth. 

You rummage around in a dresser draw, turning to face him with a single thin, glossy strip of paper in your hands. You step back towards him, eyes catching on the way he's sprawled out before you. Golden skin, broad shoulders, one hand behind his head, bicep flexed. One leg thrown out from beneath the covers, his modesty - or what’s left of it - barely hidden by your sheets. A flash of heat moves through you. You bite your lip.

‘Do you remember the photobooth?’

‘Mhm. A little.’

You nestle back down next to him, the slip of paper still clutched to your chest. Your eyes dart to his again.

‘Our first kiss wasn’t last week.’

‘What?’

His eyes are wide, mind whirring as you hold out the paper for him to take.

A series of five shots of the two of you. Laughing, close, and then with mouths pressed together, hungry. The last one messy, still locked in a searing kiss, but he can see the drunk grins peeking through.

He exhales heavily.

‘We kissed at Pride?’ He asks, bewildered.

You nod, twisting your hands in your lap.

‘We did.’

He looks back at you, still confused. A little worried, a little disappointed. 

‘I’m sorry,’ he breathes, ‘I don’t remember -’

You laugh, knocking his shoulder with yours.

‘Neither did I, baby.’ You say, kissing his curls.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

You suck a breath in through your teeth, shrug.

‘You didn’t remember, and I - I panicked. Didn’t know if it was just a thing for you or, you know, a thing.’

‘Like last week?’

You nod, sombre.

‘Like last week.’

He shakes his head.

‘You’re my favourite idiot, you know that?’

You scoff, brightening. 

‘Dick. I had no idea -’

‘I love you.’

The simplicity of it takes your breath away. Winds you, catches you right in the chest, battering against your heart.

His eyes are shining, and the truth of it is there. Has always been there. Somehow, you just never saw it before. 

I love you.

The weeks of wanting, of worrying. Of denying, of lying awake thinking about it -

‘I love you, too.’

His eyes crease at the corners, mouth lifting, tongue peeking from between his teeth.

‘Yeah?’ He breathes.

‘Yeah.’ You whisper. He swallows.

‘Think a part of me always has.’

There’s a prickle in his throat, heat behind his eyes. He wonders when it happened for you.

Wonders whether you had him from that first glimpse from Lucia’s room, from searching for bugs in your yard. Your tenderness with his daughter, the laughter in your eyes. From those moments you curled into his side on his sofa, when he’d come home, so relieved to find you in his house.

Knows, for sure, you’d had him long before his realisation on his porch, sand still between your toes.

He clears his throat, tangling your fingers.

‘That mean I get to call you mine, now?’

You smile, eyes watery. Hey, neighbour. I’m Frankie - from across the way. His curls in the sunshine, water balloons over fences. His broad back to you as he cooked dinner, the warmth of his arm around your shoulders. His gentle hands as you cried, phone calls through kitchen windows.

‘Please.’ You whisper.

The lightness in his beam is infectious, a tear spilling over as he kisses you and kisses you. Mine. Mine. Palms skating over skin, tangled in hair, an endless moment in morning sunshine. Your heart swells impossibly, stitched together, glued together by this man in your bed. You don’t know when he did it. But he holds it now, whole, fixing something you know your Dad never wanted to break.

‘Thank you.’ You rasp against his lips, chin wobbling. He doesn't ask what for. He knows, just by the look in your eyes. He shakes his head minutely, voice thick, quiet.

‘My honour.’

He holds you close, bodies melded together. You never want to let go, the tightness in your chest easing again as he makes you laugh, as you say it again, outloud, breathless. Mine. The whispers only broken by rumbles of noise outside, voices -

Deep voices in his backyard you can hear even from here. You groan into each others’ mouths, the sound dissolving into a laugh.

‘They’ll be wanting breakfast.’ You giggle quietly.

‘They can cook,’ he mumbles against your lips, ‘I’ve got mine right here.’

He squeezes your ass, dragging your hips against his thigh. Still wet, leaking from the two of you, something heating in his chest at the thought.

You hum, not helping the case by kissing down his chest.

‘Should really say goodbye at least.’

He grunts as you nibble at his belly, neither acquiescing or disagreeing.

‘And then,’ you continue, ‘I remember something about you keeping me in bed for a week?’

You pause, looking up at him. He curls a hand around your cheek, so tender. 

‘Me too.’ He whispers. 

You grin as you clamber back up his body, planting a firm kiss against his lips.

‘Couple of hours,’ you promise yourself, ‘And then I have you all to myself.’

He chuckles against your lips, an eyebrow lifting, repeating your words from a week ago - a lifetime ago - back to you.

‘We’ve got the whole summer, Bug.’

You giggle, wiggling your eyebrows.

‘Plenty of time for a ride in the sky, then, too.’ You grin, nudging him.

He presses a long, sweet kiss to your mouth.

‘I’d take you to the moon if I could.’

[sideeve]

can you do a miles e42 fix based off of broken clocks by sza

U LUV ME | with 42!miles

— it’s been 3 years since you’ve dated him. why he still talking about you like you together ? i’m not officially back but i just LOVE this concept. and i love sza🤭 ex!miles, both characters are like 17-18, reader has a younger sister, simp!miles fr, reader is still in love with miles but is stubborn, probably makes no sense whatsoever

“ma,” miles kneeled in front of you. “i’ll do anything to win you back. swear. i’ll drop the prowler job. anything.” his hands were wrapped around your legs as he begged for you to take him back.

“you swear?” you pull him up, he now towers over you. “swear.” his lip inch closer to yours “i lo—”

“WAKE THE FUCK UP!” your sister, nicknamed yaya, repeatedly hits you in the face with a pillow. “damn. i’m up, i’m up.” you sit up as she hits your back.

you grab the pillow, throwing it in her face. “i said i’m up.” “mama said you better be ready in 10 minutes or you’re gonna have to find another ride to work.”

you turn your head, looking at the clock.

it read 9:45.

shittt.

“get out so i can get dressed.”

*time skip*

you had barely made it in time for work. “hi, welcome to [ insert favorite cafe ], how can i—get out.” your voice was quickly filled with hatred. “chill, ma. i just wanted coffee.” the boy laughs. “not from here. go.”

you refused to serve him. you knew what was to come next.

“i miss you.”

“my mom won’t stop talking about you.” know well it was just him ranting about how he wanted you back.

“i want—”

“you want a caramel frappe, no whipped cream, a chocolate chip, warmed. i remember.” you deadpan. “i want something else.” your brows raise in shock, “so you have changed.”

“you.”

you groan. you bit your tongue, trying so hard not to yell at him to get out of your store. “i take that back.”

after completing his order, you slid him the drink and cookie, “that’ll be 12.65. cash or card?” he slid you a 50. “keep the change.” he walked off, sipping his newly made drink.

*time skip to the next day*

the day before was stressful. you had karens upset bc you didn’t give them a drink at 75 degree exact, too many customers, not enough staff. it was a miracle you made it out alive.

your sleep once you got home was well deserved. it was peaceful.

until the next morning. your phone was blown up by your best friend trying to get your attention.

[ name ] ! when did u and miles get back together ?

[ name ] girl wake the fuck up.

i know you see these messages. don’t make me come to your house.

answer me hoe😡

you quickly unlock your phone,

“tf r u talking abt?”

he posted on his private story. sum abt “when you two talk it out and cuddle” some shit like that. the caption had you name on it

your head hangs low when they sent the screenshot.

this motherfucker is really delusional.

“we never got back together. tf is he on?”

you threw on some clothes, storming your way to miles’ house.

you knew his mother had work at this time so you have no mercy to his front door. “miles, open this fucking door. imma kick it down.” your tone let him know you were pissed. he opens the door, “what are you mad about ma?”

you raise your phone at his face. “what is this?” he leans back, getting a good look at it. “oh, i was letting people know you’re mine.” you tilt your head, eyes squinted. “are you fucking crazy? what part of “we’re broken up” do you not understand? we ain’t together. end of story.”

he laughs, making you more upset. “that’s what you think. why do you think no one has asked you out yet?” he smirks. “because they know that you’re mine. anybody who wants you gotta go through me first. and you and me both know that’s not gonna end well.” he snickers.

“miles—” “i’m not done.” he cuts you off. “look, i know me being the prowler affected our relationship. but i’m done with that. completely. i’m focused on you right now. i’m tryna do better for you.” he suddenly wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“i’m yours.”

you smirk at him. “and how do i know you don’t have any hoes in your phone right now?” “be reasonable right now.” he smile drops, his nostrils flaring. “okay, i was joking.” you laugh.

“so, what’s this mean ma?” you purse your lips, “i guess we can get back together.” he grins, pulling you closer. “you don’t know how much i missed you. and this ass—” his hands squeeze your ass before you smack his hands away.

“i can always change my mind, miles.” “okay, i was just kidding.”

[tototalks]

And so here we are, the final ramble! I just wanna say a huge thank you to everyone who has been on this lil reading voyage with me and put up with my dumb memes lol. You’ve all been awesome! Special thanks go to @evilovesyou for getting me to read! 💙

(HAHAHA WTF DO I DO WITH MY LIFE NOW?! 😂)

My final King’s Rising thoughts 👑👑

- Gotta love Damianos, King of Akielos, looking down at a broken cart and being like “I’m too privileged to know how to fix this” while Lazar and Pallas fuck unsubtly in the background.

- LAMEN. CRYING. 😭😭😭 Laurent really chose Damen’s high school bully nickname.

- Charls is an actual MVP. He took one look at Laurent and understood the assignment. He’s a cousin to the King of Vere now. He is actually a part of the royal family. Ring bearer at the wedding. I don’t make the rules. And the absolute best part about it is that he never fuckin finds out 😂

- Laurent is having the absolute time of his life. He’s sat there TRASHING Nikandros and telling all these Akeilon sluts to cover their arms and accidentally reinventing the cloth trade. What a legend 😂

- The night they spend at the inn is so so significant. Laurent realising that he’s allowed to have desires and finally being asked what he wants. But also the undercurrent of being scared and confused by what turns him on because of his history. Damn I love that his traumatic experiences don’t disappear just because he has Damen now.

- I also need a whole book about their trip through Akeilos - Laurent being too pale and northern for the heat is SO real lol

- King Damianos promising to end slavery 🥲

- I need Laurent and Nikandros to become friends who tease each other ruthlessly.

- Okay so the kid is Kastor’s. I have to admit, I really do appreciate Jokaste and her sacrifices to a certain degree - not the whole degree - but a certain degree.

- Laurent giving himself over for Damen’s sake and the child. Holy shit the symbolism. Damen hearing the Regent confirm what he already kind of knew about Laurent and going apeshit, and Laurent realising he’s defending him. 💔

- “Throw up quick, we need to go.” Nikandros, I love you.

- Damen just WALKING IN to surrender. He really said all eyes on me you’re not gonna forget this.

- He stands up for Laurent against all the odds and I cannot even imagine what that felt like for Laurent.

- GUION YOU RAT ASS MOTHERFUCKER (I should have seen this coming.)

- And this is why you NEVER cross a mother about the ones she loves - the Regent is being taken down by every child he abused and that is exactly how I wanted him to fall. So satisfying.

- Paschal’s testimony and it all coming together. I ADORE how no character is forgotten or irrelevant once they die. Nicaise, Aimeric and even Govart were significant to the Regent’s downfall. The perfect evidence for the council to acquit Laurent and charge the Regent.

- I have to mention the 11 year old boy and how Laurent protects him when he sees him worry for the Regent upon his execution. He truly doesn’t understand what’s going on and the manipulation runs deep. Laurent broke that cycle of abuse.

- Kastor vs. Damianos - another fight that was always meant to happen and solidified that Kastor cannot be redeemed, even by Damen’s kindness.

- Laurent being the one to kill Kastor was only fitting. He’s fulfilled himself, Auguste, and Damen, and he used something so himself to do it. His wits. I really love that.

- And finally we have two legitimate kings, friends, and lovers. Ruling over two kingdoms that will probably end up one. An absolute perfect ending. ♥️

What an absolute ride. Shoutout C.S. Pacat for an awesome story ♥️…. I start the side stories Friday 😂 Y’all on tumblr have one more job, and that’s to fill my inbox with AO3 links 😉🥰 I have a character song playlist to curate lol

[canarycolemine]

The Cardinale

Pairing: Cardinal Terzo x Female Reader

Summary: Cardinal Terzo is one arragont motherfucker.

AO3 Link

Warnings: MDNI, 18+ only. hate sex. lots of it. cardinal is a little cheeky piece of shit. WC 4.4k.

Heavily inspired by @mardyart's depiction of Cardi T. Such a phenomenal artist!

Cocky, arrogant, headstrong.

The third Emeritus brother, destined to become Papa one day, nepotism to the highest degree. His suave, angular face and his overly confident charms - how he assumes every Sister will fall into his bed.

How I despise him. How I hope to never fall under his gaze, never be subjected to his attention.

Imagine my rage when Sister Superior informed me that I, her star pupil, will be responsible for tutoring the bastard in English.

He was “reassigned” to the country-side Abbey after displaying what I can only imagine was simply inappropriate behavior for an upper clergy member. The man believes that he can seduce and bed any living thing! Perhaps it’s not a matter of belief, but a goal, rather. At his current pace, he will have had most of the Sisters in his bed before the year is up!

Watching him saunter through the halls, smoking his little cigarettes - inside! I always made a concerted effort to cough as I walked past, head held high. He would simply perish, it seems, if he did not attempt to woo a woman a day. Kissing their hands, wearing his stupid white gloves, and winking that shining white eye.

I love my Sisters, but please, have some self-respect.

Quite frankly, I’ve always been appalled by his behavior. He has never led an entire black mass by himself, needing his brothers to finish the job. There was even one instance where I could have sworn he had a sister hidden under the pulpit from where he stood, evidently having communion. No, Cardinal Terzo only ever wanted to lead the rituals - the demon and ghoul summonings (he needs new things to fuck), the mystic elements (anything he can light on fire), and of course, orgies. (duh!).

It was early fall when Sister Superior invited me to her office. I was promised tea; secretly, I had hoped she would invite me to teach a seminar or two over the semester. My lecture series on the invocation of Lilith and Samuel could rival even the Dark One’s knowledge, himself!

But, no.

“The Cardinal is in desperate need of more restraint, and he could benefit from a more rigorous understanding of the English language. He prefers to speak in his mother tongue, and truthfully, it is not accommodating to international chapters.” Superior started, my ears perked at the mention of my personal enemy. I brought the steaming cup to my mouth. “I could think of none other to teach him all of these skills rather than you, Sister.”

I could hardly register the hind notes of the tea before it went straight through my nose, burning the whole way up! I coughed and sputtered the hot liquid at the shock of my assignment.

Still catching my breath, “My apologies, Sister, but… why me?”

“Give yourself credit, Sister. You are a star pupil!” A shine in her eyes, a smirk in her mouth let me know two things - she meant what she said and there was another reason, too.

My eyes narrowed, seeking the answers in her eyes.

“And you’re the only student that the Cardinal has not gotten to know… intimately.” Her lips pursed, looking towards the ground.

“Sister Superior…” I started, not above begging.

“Sister, I will make it worth your while. I will make sure you have your lecture series as a mandatory presentation for all first-year novicates.” A smile crossed my face, but dropped; still, the deal was unsatisfactory.

I sat up a little straighter, now making a dare. “And, no kitchen duty for the entirety of his lessons.” I hated the kitchens. Everything I’ve ever made was burnt to a crispr, so I’ve always been delegated to cleaning the dishes - the worst thing in the world.

She nodded, “That can be arranged.”

I smiled, relaxing a little, but how it only lasted so long. Resigned to my fate, I was excused to prepare for my lesson with the Cardinal this Tuesday.

A pause from my duties was provided in anticipation - he needed to be assessed for his English skills - grammar, vocabulary and pronunciation. From my understanding, he had a functional grasp on the language. But I did not really know.

Truth be told, I have never spoken even a word to the Cardinal - always avoiding him, always souring my face when his eyes gazed at me. I wanted to be wholly unappealing to the man. For the most part, he had taken the hint and left me alone. Although, I could have sworn he said something in Italian as I walked past, something like “how I want to be the stick up her…” I didn’t inquire further.

By Lucifer’s grace, I had successfully avoided him. Until the sunset on the second day of the week, when our paths collide.

I arrived at our designated location - one of the older classrooms, repurposed for private studying, long abandoned by the day. Thirty minutes early to the beginning of the lesson, how I tidied our space, laid the materials out and cleaned the chalkboard.

The hanging wall clock, the ever present heartbeat, kept steady. It was almost unnerving, as if keeping me in tempo with the eventual encounter with the asshole. The old bell tower clock rang out 6 times.

And the aforementioned asshole was not here. The door was unlocked, the sun firmly setting. My lips tightened to a pout. I will give him five minutes - no more.

Electing to sit in one of the old desks I rearranged, I pulled out a trusty book, as I had anticipated his tardiness.

Some twenty odd pages in, and I had lost track of time entirely - forgotten the reason I was in this dusty room. The bastard didn’t even show up, easily thirty minutes late! Quite frankly, it was embarrassing that I managed to stay this long. But now, I elected to start the process of cleaning my things.

In the morning, I planned to tell Sister Superior that I will simply not take the Cardinal as a student, he had no respect for my time. Future Papa or not, not enough breaths on this Earth could be spared for a man with little regard for others.

I managed to talk myself through this script as I cleaned up my belongings, nearly whispering her retorts back. But I would not be deterred! Lost in the monologue, I heard a hoard of boys giggling, getting closer to the door.

No, no. It could not be.

The door opened, the raven haired cardinal stumbled in - his pack of brothers falling behind him. Laughing at some lewd joke, no doubt. He turned to look at me, suddenly stiffening his posture. The smug smile falling from his face. He offered some excuse to the men behind him, closing the door to the two of us. He leaned against the old door frame, creaking under his weight. As if that would make him look cooler. The black cassock he preferred was immaculately ironed - surely not by his own hands. Maybe he was screwing the laundry girls.

I tried hard to keep my gaze away from him. My rage and my pride wouldn’t allow it.

“Scusa sorella, I, eh, lost the time.” He offered with a shrug of his shoulders. His voice was rich with his mother tongue.

“Well, Cardinal, I won’t keep you long, then. Our lesson is canceled.” I coldly retorted.

“Che cosa?”

“Canceled, cardinal.” I spat back, lifting my book and walking towards him. “You were late.”

“But I am here now, no?” That white eye twinkled - a charm that assuredly got him into many sisters’ beds.

“And I have been here, Cardinal. For thirty minutes past our scheduled time. Either your watch is broken or you have so little regard for others that time is no object to you?” I said, every syllable articulated, glaring at him.

His eyebrow quirked, a challenge, he supposed. A grin crossed his face, a chuckle that died in his throat.

“It really is you, eh sister?”

“What?” I shot back, whatever could he mean by that?

“You - you,” he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, pulling one to his lips, lighting it, and puffing the smoke away from us, “I thought my school would be with you. You are the sister that always walks with a stick up her ass.”

I made a pointed effort to cough at his smoke.

“Some of us have priorities besides fucking an entire congregation, Cardinal.”

“Am I really so evil, Sorella?” he feigned offense, the cigarette affecting his enunciation. Removing from his lips, another puff. “To celebrate our eh, how do you say, istinti?”

“Instincts.” I corrected.

“Ah, si, instincts. That is why we are here, no? Our Lord calls us to do just that.”

“You’ve got quite the head start on the sin of lust, Cardinal, I don’t think you could ever live long enough to dedicate your life to such… dedicated studies of the other sins.”

“It is my favorite.” His white gloves took the cigarette from his mouth, curling it between his fingers, before dropping it to the ground to extinguish the flame. His shoes shined brilliantly, even I could admit, but as I gazed at his shoes, I swore he winked at me through the reflection of his face.

“You really shouldn’t smoke, you know.”

“It is not good for me, this I know.” “I couldn’t care about what happens to you, the flame isn’t good for these old buildings. You’d burn down the whole abbey.”

“You say you don’t care about me sister.” He moved past me, further into the room, settling in one of the old teachers' desks. He kicked those expensive shoes onto the desk, relaxing back into the chair. “But I do not think that is so true.”

I faced him fully, still standing near the door. “I promise you, I do not.”

“Hm,” he chuckled, bringing his gloved hand to his mouth, running the fabric gently against his lower, unpainted lip. “No.” He said so sternly.

“What?”

“What?” he mocked me, a voice that was far too high pitched to be an imitation of me.

I let out an exasperated sigh, to which he laughed.

“Fuck you.” I went for my bag, still at the old desk.

“Do you want to know how I know this?” He said, staring at my rage.

“I doubt you ever shut up, so it doesn’t really matter what I want.”

“Sorella,” he sat up in the chair, his feet meeting the ground and his hands coming together on the desk. “We have not spoken any words to each other. But you hate me so much?”

I huffed. “You have no respect for anyone but yourself!” I could feel an all too familiar lump in my throat.

“How do you know this?” His patience now wearing thin, I could hear it.

“You walk around the abbey like you own the place. I get it, I know you’re the future Papa, but God damn it, you are so arrogant. You’ve never had to work for anything in your life! You think you can just fuck anyone and anything that walks through these doors. You’ve had everything handed to you by a silver spoon, and I hate it.”

My eyes watered, I couldn’t look at him. Whether from my rage or some secret hopes I had, I could feel the emotion.

“I’ve worked so fucking hard to get where I am, and I will never be anything close to you, just because you’re, fucking, you! And now, I have to waste my time teaching you English because you can’t stay focused for more than five seconds!”

My fist met the school table. His face leaned into his hands, thinking too carefully about the situation. His eyebrow quirked.

“... You are jealous of me, then?” He hid a smirk behind his hands.

I glared at him, how I wish my stare could kill.

“Fuck. You.”

“That does not sound like a no.” No effort in hiding his smirk now.

“Since when does ‘no’ matter to you?” I baited.

He feigned offense, yet again, bringing his hand to his chest. “Sorella, I am offended! I can promise you all of my sexual encounters have been enthusiastic by all parties. I would not dare to violate another!”

“What a well constructed sentence, Cardinal. It seems like you have no need for any help with the English language.”

“Ah, she has gotten me off of the topic…”

“All I had to do was talk about sex, so it wasn’t too hard, was it now?”

“No, no, no, we were talking about you, si! About how you are so jealous of me.” He ran that stupid fucking gloved hand through his hair, slicked with grease.

“Even now, you cannot say you are not jealous of me. Admit it.”

I paused. “So what?”

He clapped his hands, catching me apparently.

“She is! She is very jealous of my status and my future. But, I think she is jealous of not only me, no?” His tone shifted, in a direction I was not comfortable with.

“What?”

“She is also very jealous of all of the people that I get to fuck.” He punctuated the syllables far too clearly.

I huffed again, rolling my eyes. “There it is again. She does not say ‘no!’”

I hated how well he was reading me.

“Why do you even care? You fuck everything with a pulse, so why do you care?”

Fuck. I was not selling this very well. His gaze told me everything. The raised eyebrow, the smug pull of his painted lips.

He tilted his head, as if to study me further. I could feel myself recoil.

“You have done too much assuming, Sorella. About me, about yourself.”

He stood from the chair and stalked towards me. Instinctively, I crept back from him, nearing the wall for safety.

“You think I do not care about anyone but me, and that is not true. You think I abuse my future position, but that is not true either. And you think I fuck anything with a pulse.” He reached me, cornering me against the wall.

“And that,” he brought his finger to my chin, forcing my eyes to his, “is not true. I only fuck the pretty ones.”

Here is where I could be offended, he never fucked me. I thought that I was fairly pretty, so damn, that kinda hurt my feelings.

Sensing the monologue, “And you are a pretty one.” His painted lips gently touched mine.

God damn it. I hated how good that felt.

“So you see, sister, I knew you thought all of this.” His other hand reached for my waist, exploring the dip of my body. “I saw the way you scowled at me, pretending to hate me. It was all jealousy. But there is something about the way you hated me that pulled me so, so close. I needed to have you.”

“But how to get to you?” His hands reached for mine, holding them in place, behind my back.

“Who better to teach me restraint?” he purred.

“I act like an asshole for a while, speak in Italian with my friends. I get the attention of the Sister Superior, who will certainly demand I be subdued by studies.” His painted lips traveled a path along my jaw to my ear. “And who here have I not fucked?”

His teeth grazed my earlobe. “I could deceive the world for you.”

I bit my lip. His gaze returned to mine.

“Pretty good, no?”

“Pretending you’re stupid was a very believable act, apparently.” I mustered out, flustered as I was.

“Don’t deceive me now, Sorella.” His lips met mine again, pressing his forehead to mine. “There is one thing I need to hear you say.” His words left his mouth easily, but he was not unaffected. Just as flustered as I.

I huffed, pausing for only a moment.

“Si.”

His lips crashed to mine, with a fire that was barely restrained before. He released my hands from behind my back; his hands traveled to my hips, lifting me. Instinctively, I wrapped my legs around his waist.

We traveled through the room, locked in the heated kiss, when he sat me on the teacher’s desk.

“On the teacher’s desk?” I giggled, taking in the chosen location.

“It’s always been a fantasy.” He laughed back, then resumed his fury on my neck.

His large hands reached for my habit, pulling it off in a fell swoop. Evident of his experience, it hardly hurt. He pulled away from me, just gazing at me for a moment.

“Pretty one.” As if he didn’t know he said it.

Fuck.

I lead the charge back to his mouth, my hands now locking into his raven locks. The diligent work of unbuttoning that goddamn stupid black cassock. I gave it my best shot. My hands kept slipping on the buttons, struggling to unhook them. He chuckled from our kiss, removing my hands from him.

“Having trouble, darling? It’s always difficult.” His gloved hands made the show unbuttoning each cotton button - traveling down in body in quite the show.

Once to the bottom, he stepped out of the garment and removed his crisp white undershirt. I was out of my body, unaware of how I looked as I looked at him. Each new sight of his skin lit a fire in me. He was as slender as I thought he would be, well defined, certainly. A healthy patch of hair on his chest - he was certainly Italian.

A glance to his eyes knew how I enjoyed his spectacle.

Cocky, arrogant, and headstrong was the Cardinale.

“Your turn.”

He came back to my neck, teasing the delicate flesh. The first moan slipped from my lips as he sucked the skin purple.

“Good girl.” He purred. He lifted my habit from my legs, over my head, leaving me in my undergarments. Pausing his efforts to take in my form. A glance in his eyes - like my body was a feast for his soul. Another look at my undergarments, “Matching?” in reference to the black bra and panties I was sporting.

Guilty.

He leaned closer to me, resting an arm on the table. Teasingly, looking into me.

“Women match when they are planning to be fucked.” My eyes turned from his, embarrassing me again. His other hand came to my chin, forcing my gaze to his. “Was there someone else, Sorella?”

I opened my mouth, but the words failed me.

“No.” He answered for me, feigning sympathy. “There wasn’t, was there?”

My mouth hung open, but I couldn’t admit it.

“Say it, then.”

Bastard.

“Say it, pretty one, I do not have all night.” His voice nearly sang.

The fire his was stroking in me burned, “I need you to fuck me.” I whined, my eyes nearly starting to water.

His hand, holding my gaze, went to my shoulder, forcing me to lay on the old, creaking desk. Quickly, he made work removing my bra. Adoringly, he stared at the exposed skin.

Wordlessly, he painted my breasts with his lips. As his lips latched around my nipple, I whimpered, already so sensitive. His other hand toyed with the opposite breast, kneading the flesh. As his teeth grazed the delicate flesh, he nearly pinched the opposite.

Another gasp escaped.

“She likes it when it hurts?”

Obviously. I fucking hated him so much.

He mirrored his actions on the opposite breasts before trailing his kisses further down my torso. Nipping at the skin, kissing it, dragging his tongue.

He left a particularly gentle kiss below my navel, as he gazed back at me. Wordlessly asking.

I nodded.

He hooked his hands to the elastic of the lacy panties, dragging them off of my legs in a well-practiced motion.

“Spread your legs.” I obliged, as he pulled the teacher’s chair to sit in between my legs.

His gaze never left my core, which he could see how he affected me. He lifted my legs onto his shoulders, granting a better view. Biting the fingers of his gloves, removing them. Gently working the muscle of my inner thighs, unconsciously creeping higher.

Reaching my core, his uncovered hands spread me open further to him. He gazed reverently.

“Pretty, pretty girl.” He stroked my slit delicately, I shivered and whined at the feeling. “Such a pretty girl.”

He brought his face close, kissing my mound and licking the slit all the way up. He left gentle kisses onto my already sensitive clit, dying for attention. He latched his lips around the bud, suckling softly.

As his tongue flicked my clit, I bucked my hips into his mouth, firming my grip in his hair.

He unlatched to drag his tongue, flattened, up and down my core. His tongue prodded at my entrance, lapping at my slick. His fingers moved towards my center, replacing his mouth, pressing into me.

One finger - pumping slowly into me - adjusting the feeling. Adding another one, stretching slightly. His eyes studied my face for discomfort. Once I adjusted, his divine mouth returned to my clit, alternating between kissing and suckling. His fingers curled into me, searching. When they found the spongy tissue inside, the moans fell easily. Begging him. He teased the spot, expertly. Pressing into it with each pump, as he sucked on my clit.

“Cardinal-” I started. “I’m getting - close” I managed to get out.

I could feel a smile on his lips as he continued, speeding his actions.

The band in my stomach was burning, stretching, white hot. At the precipice, as my cries started to build.

When suddenly he stopped. Sitting back, removing his mouth and fingers from me.

I shuddered at the loss of sensation, being so close. I sat up slightly to look at him.

The fucker was wiping my slick from his chin, licking his fingers clean.

Apparently, my face told him how close I was, how it was moments away.

“I wanted to feel it on my cock, darling.” His eyebrow raised. “Plus, it feels better when you ruin it a little bit.”

A fight was breaking in my head, an internal debate I was having with him.

His belt jingled, his pants being slid down and discarded. Left in pristine white boxers, which he lowered. His cock sprang free, dripping with his precum.

“I could have came just from tasting you, you know?” as he began languidly stroking himself, using himself to lubricate the movements. “All of your little sounds, they sounded so sweet. And you were oh so close, weren’t you?”

His teasing was back, his hand sped up, only to build himself up more. I whined.

“Just think. Even an hour ago, you were cursing my name, wanting me dead. Look at you now - begging for my cock.”

He pressed his cock into my core, rubbing the reddened head onto my clit. A guttural noise fell from me. An animalistic cry.

“She was so jealous of me, too. And now all she wants to be is fucked by me. Maybe she’ll die if she doesn’t get it, what do you think?”

“Please, Terzo.” “Oh, using my name now? What happened to ‘asshole?’” His voice cracked, unaffected by his own need.

“Please fuck me.” I cried out, a tear falling from my eye.

“Say it again.”

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.” Tumbling out.

On command, he aligned himself and pressed into my dripping heat. Feeling every inch of my warmth, he shuddered and groaned.

“So, so good” he whispered.

He filled me exquisitely, pressing in carefully, allowing me to adjust. My nails marked his back, savoring every inch.

His hips finally met mine, I swore I could feel him in my stomach. He let out a breath, unsteadied from restraint.

“Don’t have that restraint now, Cardinal.” I teased. “Move.”

A low groan from him, as his hips rolled, moving back. “You won’t be able to walk tomorrow if I don't.”

“Try your worst.”

He slammed forward again, now setting a punishing pace. Feeling the drag of his cock on my walls, I whined. His hands tilted my hips further up, angling to my sweet spot. I gasped at the pressure. It was returning - the precipice. He couldn’t rob me a second time.

“Perhaps, sorella, it is you who needs a lesson, eh?” He nearly coughed through, maintaining his pace. “I could teach you something.”

His hand moved towards we were joined, circling my clit. It was becoming too much - the sweet pressure of him inside and now his devious fingers.

His fingers moved quickly on my clit, building the fire again. My moans telling him it all. As if in perfect rhythm, his pistoning hips and circling fingers.

“Let’s countdown, darling. In Italian.”

His other hand came to my chin, forcing my gaze. He nodded, as if to reassert his power. “It goes…dieci, nove…”

The fire was reaching a breaking point, I knew what he was doing now. His fingers still moved with a steady speed.

“Otto, sette, sei…”

“...Terzo…” I whined.

“Cinque, quattro, tre…”

“I’m gonna…”

“Due, uno.”

The waves of pleasure crashed down on me, my legs shaking. My vision blurry, white hot. His hips stuttered, as I felt him swell inside, riding out my pleasure. Milking him for all he had. The course of our cries rang in the old room. His fingers didn’t stop until I whined with oversensitivity, his spend leaking from me.

He stayed inside, pressing his full weight onto me.

We held each other in an embrace, coming down from divinity. Our breaths in sync, slowing down.

My breath nearly returned to me as I came to, laughing with what air I had.

“What’s so funny?” His smirk shined with a warmth I had not seen before.

“A countdown to my orgasm. Cheeky.”

He laughed. “It worked, eh?”

“Don’t be too full of yourself.”

“I cannot, you are full of me.”

“Ew! Don’t say it like that, dumbass.”

“There is the girl that hates me. I missed her.” He gazed at me, smiling more softly now, tucking an errant strand of hair behind my ear. Holding my face in his hand, so gently. He placed the last soft his to my lips.

“And I’ll never stop hating you, Cardinal.”

“So be it, but it has worked out well for me so far, huh?”

Bastard.

[thewulf]

Fool || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Can you write something about hangman x pilot!reader? also make it super fluffy? not a specific request I know, but I've having trouble finding new things to read. thank you!!

A/N: Okay! This was a BLAST to write! TY for the request!! Love my main man. This turned out way more angsty and spicy(ish) than I imagined but I think you'll love it. Let me know your thoughts!

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Y/N

Word Count: 4.2k +

“You can’t be fucking serious Seresin.” You nearly growled as you watched Hangman roll to the right after you expressly told him not to fucking roll to the right. He was supposed to stay straight ahead and head back to the aircraft carrier. But did he listen? No, he did not. His stupid big ass cocky brain would never take any advice. Soon enough it could cost him his life. One of these days it could really hurt him.

You heard him laugh. Laugh! The balls on that man were something else, “Don’t worry Wolfie. I’ll be just fine.”

You shook your head following as closely behind as you could. You heard your WSO, Beamer, curse behind you as you pressed your jet on further, faster. She could do it. You knew her limits. It’s what Maverick trained you for. You were built for this. Ready for this.

“What’s wrong?” You continued looking for Hangman, but he was going just as fast as you were.

“Bogies ahead. Six o’clock. Two of them.” Beamer shouted from behind you spotting something on the radar.

“I don’t think they’re friendly Beamer. Fuck, Hangman, did you copy?” You gunned it trying your hardest to catch up, but the motherfucker had other plans.

“What’s that?” You could practically hear the smirk dripping off his face with that comment alone. It took everything in your not to scream at the idiot of a man. You needed to get the hell over there to help him, but he was moving so god damn fast in the other direction. You’d never be able to catch him. Faster it was.

“Not friendly! Bandits! Six and eight Hangman!” Beamer shouted back in just as much frustration you seemed to be in. He didn’t have a back seater letting him know when objects were incoming. He was flying into what looked to be a trap.

“Shit.” You heard a pause before all hell broke loose on his end, “Wolf, got one on my ass.” He grunted.

“I’m on my way.” Panic rose through your chest, but you couldn’t freak out. Not yet anyway. This is when you needed to relax. Focus on the problem. The bandits. You needed to take the bastard that was following Hangman out. Calm down. Slow your heartbeat. Speed up. You could do this.

“Beamer, where are they?” You asked seemingly losing sight of them once you made it through the cloud bank. Where in the hell was that second bandit?

“20 degrees to your left, now!” He answered quickly forcing you to divert left. You dove seeing the planes up ahead. F-18 vs F-18 Super Hornet, it was up to the best pilot now. You gulped kicking up your speed even faster. Ignoring the grunt of your WSO you knew he was likely being flown into something bad. Hurry Wolf. Hurry. You pressed forward even faster. 690 knots ticketed upwards of 700 knots. You were blazing through the atmosphere. It was a damn good thing he was flying low, or you wouldn’t have been able to catch up.

710 knots. That was officially the fast you’ve ever flown. It didn’t seem like enough though. Like you weren’t going to make it soon enough.

“Hangman! Bank right 45 degrees.” You yelled knowing it’d give you a little more of a chance to catch up.

Thank God he actually fucking listened to you this time. His jet turned forcing the other F-18 to overshoot a bit. You knew the plan and had already been banking giving you the perfect shot on the enemy jet.

“Lock on Beamer!” You were yelling at your wizzo now. Sweat poured down your face as you maneuvered into a better position to help him lock onto the clueless pilot.

"Target locked!" He pressed on the second you heard the lock sound.

“Firing missiles.” As quickly as he spoke your hands were hitting the joy sticks. One second. Two. Three and then four.

“Target hit!” Beamer yelled out in joy seeing one of the missiles land dead on. You let out a sigh of relief seeing the other pilot was able to eject on time. As fucked up as everything was you never wanted to take a life. You’d always prayed they’d make it out in time. You’ve taken three jets down now. Tied with Jake. You saw two eject. You pretended the third did.

The celebration didn’t last for too long when you heard your jet being locked on, “Fuck.” You grumbled immediately heading for a nosedive. There was that second bandit. In hindsight you probably should’ve took your jet straight up, not down. You didn’t have much air space left to utilize at such a low altitude.

“Wolfie! 30 degrees to your right.” Hangman didn’t elaborate any further.

You had to trust him. That was rule number one in the field. Always trust your wingman and vice versa. Listening to him you punched it after leveling out and turning your joystick to the right.

“Shit, missed the shot.” Hangman grumbled, “Keep flying, I’ll come back around.”

“Hang on.” You spoke to Beamer after hearing his miss. Pressing the throttle all the way forward you nearly stalled the engines that were starving for the oxygen rich air.

“What are you doing?” Your WSO nearly gasped hearing almost every alarm on the jet ring simultaneously. You were going to starve the fucking engines if you didn’t move soon.

You smiled knowing this move was saved for very special occasions, “A move Maverick taught me.”

“Oh Christ.” He closed his eyes knowing whatever was about to happen wouldn’t be good for him. You were probably going to bend the damn air frame or something crazy like that. Mav tried to teach everybody. You were just one of the few who actually tried his bat shit insane moves.

“Relax B.” You grinned punching it once you saw the enemy jet fly by you.

“I’m going to throw up.” You could hear the sarcasm on his voice. He grunted as his butt hit the seat after floating for far too long.

You laughed pushing your jet once again. 620 knots. 630. 640. Come on baby. Let’s get moving.

“You’re about as well trained as Hangman up here. Puking over a little g-force?” You snickered to yourself knowing you could gut punch the both of them. Two birds one stone or whatever they say.

“Hey!” You heard both of them shout in unison. Men. They were just too fucking easy.

690 knots. 700. You heard Beamer groan from the back seat. You were really putting him through it on this mission weren’t you? A little bit more and you’d be able to shoot that jet down too. 710.

The smile adorning your face probably looked maniacal. But you didn’t care. You entered into another zone when you were in the air. It was kill or be killed in the air. Notably when you were in a dogfight. The odds were even higher.

“Target locked!”

You barely heard your wizzo before you fired for the jet ahead.

“Target hit!” He yelled in triumph. You slowed down before making a turn looking for a parachute. For anything. Kill number four. Ahead of Jake. One behind Mav. Two kills in one run. That was pretty damn remarkable. You heard muffled cheers in your ears but didn’t see a parachute. Four kills. Two chutes. Two nothings. Did that make you a killer?

“What the fuck was that?” You tossed your helmet to the side walking towards him. Charging towards him really. He just got you so damn worked up. The fucking idiot he was. A dumb arrogant idiot asshole. Now, you just needed to say it to his face.

He cocked his head to the side, “Thought I had him.” A slow smile spreading over his face seeing you so worked up.

You would’ve loved to punch him square in the nose, but you were on the carrier. In the middle of the ocean. That was the dumbest thing you could probably do. You weren’t even looking for a fucking thanks. Just an apology would be nice, “You’re such a…” You scrunched your nose up once you got to him. He was taller than you, by a lot. Still didn’t intimidate you. But you had to look up to him, quite literally.

His smirk grew, “Yes, doll? I’m a what?”

Shaking your head your pointed your finger right as his chest, “Fool. Jake Seresin. You’re such a damn fool.” You nearly hissed before spun around walking back for your helmet. You’d probably need to get that checked out. You threw it down pretty hard in your fit of rage.

In all your time working with him had you been so angry with the man. Hell, you’d even respected him a tad before this mission. The two of you were never close but you seemed to work well together, train well together. You knew his type and you were able to deal with it.

“Hey there! Slow down.” He grabbed your arm gently before your yanked it right back from him, “Have you been watching those sappy love drama movies? What’s it called? Pride and something? Fool. Who says that?” You felt the blood inside you boiling now. He really knew how to push it.

Giving him an almost bewildered look, you answered him, “Can you take anything seriously?” It was evident you were more than angry now. He knew he needed to tone down the jokes.

He put his hands up in surrender, “I’m sorry then.” He didn’t look sorry. Words meant nothing to you. Words were useless without action. Pointless. Words got people killed. Actions did too but words always stung worse.

You shook your head not accepting his apology, “For what Hangman? What are you actually sorry for?” It wasn’t the anger that got to him it was the sheer look of disappointment that crossed your eyes that made him reevaluate everything.

“I’m sorry you got chased.” He sounded unsure of his reply. Like he didn’t really know what he was apologizing for. Did he? Did he know why you were so upset? He didn’t. He didn’t have a clue.

You rolled your eyes before walking away again. You had to give him a bit of credit though, he sure kept tying, “You just don’t get it.” You sighed walking towards the locker rooms. At least there you’d get a reprieve from the arrogant man.

He panicked and followed you, “Get what?”

You stopped dead in your tracks. You weren’t like the other guys in your squadron. You loved flying but you hated killing. Hated the thought of taking somebody away from their families. It hurt you. Destroyed you. You thought about leaving for just that reason. And today? You’d probably killed a man or woman. Maybe even two. You never actually knew. And it was for nothing. It shouldn’t have happened. If he would’ve just listened to you the bandits wouldn’t have even spotted you. All that for naught.

“You think I like taking jets down? Killing people? Do you seriously think that I find enjoyment out of that? It makes me sick when I have to do things like that. That could’ve been somebodies dad. Somebodies daughter. Who the fuck knows Jake? I don’t. I never will. And now they’re just gone?” You were whisper shouting now. You’d never admitted anything like this to anybody. Not even your family. No therapist, military or civilian knew either. They didn’t need to know. So, you didn’t tell them. Not a soul, “If you just would have fucking listened to me I wouldn’t have had to do that!” Your voice was shaky now as you took off for the locker rooms. Tears on the edge of spilling over. You peered around thankful nobody was in ear shot. It was never a good thing to cry at work. You had like fifteen minutes before you had to report back for debrief. Fifteen minutes to get it the fuck together.

Jake just stood there as you dashed away. He could’ve followed but he knew you needed your space. You looked so hurt. So betrayed. He walked over to the locker room waiting for you to come out. You had to come out at some point.

He grabbed you when you walked out of the locker room. Your allowed yourself to cry for a few moments before you snapped it back together. You just hoped it didn’t show in your eyes.

It did. Jake saw it through your tear stained cheeks and your red rimmed eyes. He frowned feeling awful, “I’m sorry, Y/N. I… I wasn’t thinking.”

“Clearly.” You refused to look at him. You were still upset. You’d be upset for a little bit before you’d shake it off. It’s not like you had a choice. You’d have to fly with him again. You would have to figure this out at some point.

He looked down hearing the icy snap coming from you. You weren’t usually so forward with your emotions. Usually, you were cool calm and collected one. The one that fell in line. The one who knew her place was limited as a woman, and she needed to be strategic about it.

“Either say something or let me go. We’ve got a debriefing to get to.”

He snapped out of it, “They’ll wait on us, come on.” He took your hand without a second thought guiding you to the side of the carrier. He was smart, not many people came over here. There was a very low chance of getting caught back here. You let him guide you without much thought. You were afraid to admit how much his touch had an effect on you. It felt like there was a fire ignited in your fingertips creeping up your arm.

You didn’t want to admit that’s also why you were so worked up. You didn’t know how to tell the man that you had a rather large crush on him. How you wanted to be the one he flirted with at the bars. How you wanted to be the one he was so dead set on kissing at the end of the night. Who he got to take home. You wanted it. You and only you.

Only problem is you were you. You were one of the dudes. Wolfie. You’d gotten your call sign because you were all bark and all bite. You followed through. Tough as a wolf backed against a wall. You were flattered, truly. But it made you a guy. Not a girl. Not somebody he would think of. You’d probably be better off if you just cut it off altogether with Navy men and went for a civ guy. It’d be easier. Less games.

His expression softened seeing you in the anxious state you were in. You really didn’t like conflict. You didn’t enjoy being mad at people. You were a simple girl who liked resolution. It wasn’t like you get so angry, “Look, Y/N…” He sighed. He wasn’t good at this either. Sure, Hangman was a persona but owning up to mistakes that could’ve cost you your life? That was tough.

“I fucked up Y/N. I shouldn’t have done that. I overestimated my abilities. I could’ve gotten you hurt. I could’ve gotten shot down. It was dumb. And I put you in an awful spot. I’m so sorry. Truly.” He rambled off quickly.

Your eyes narrowed as your searched for any sort of sarcasm, “You mean it?”

He nodded his head looking away from you, “Yeah. I messed up.”

Unfolding your arms from your chest you gave him a curt nod, “Okay.”

“Okay?” He looked at you with a newfound hope in his eyes.

“Yeah, sure. It’s fine. Don’t do it again you dumb arrogant asshole.” A small smile crept over your lips letting him know you were just teasing. There was some hint of truth there though. He was a dumb arrogant asshole in that moment.

He pulled you into a hug. One that was different than the normal ones he gave you. This one was more meaningful. More thoughtful. He squeezed you a little bit tighter than he ever had before. Pulled you into his chest just a touch harder. He held you a little bit longer than usual.

“Thank you for saving my ass.” He whispered once he let you go from his embrace.

“I got your back. Any day. Any night. You know that Seresin.”

He nodding pulling you back in. How had he not seen it before? How had he not seen the treasure that you were right in front of his face. God, you were striking. You were everything he needed in a life partner. You were incredibly smart, so self-assured, beautiful beyond words, wittier than he could ever imagine, made him smile when he needed it, knew the right words too say… he was a dumb arrogant asshole. He liked you. Hell, he might’ve already fallen in love with you without even realizing it.

“Seeing that bandit chase you down was awful. And then when I missed… I’m so sorry. I failed you in every way.” You’d never heard Jake so sincere. Never heard him admit to so many fuck ups. It made you feel things you hadn’t ever before for him. Like he wasn’t just that fucking dickhead persona. There might’ve been a decent human being under the character you were sure he was playing.

You shrugged. Trying to play it off. You were never scared. You were determined to be the best in that moment. You had to be the best in that moment, or it could be you at the bottom of the ocean. A shiver ripped down your spine at the thought. It hit you sometimes just how damn dangerous your job was.

“It’s fine. Just listen next time? Okay?” It felt like for once you were actually getting through to the man. It’d been so surface level in the half a year you’d been stationed with him. This was a surprise, a pleasant one though.

“You got it Wolfie.” He smiled letting his hand drop from your shoulder. You really liked how it felt there. Not that you’d admit it.

“Let’s go. We gotta go get our asses chewed out by Cyclone.” You sighed not looking forward to it. It was supposed to be a simple bombing. Get it and get out. Clearly, that didn’t happen and now he probably had to do a lot more paperwork than he was expecting. Shooting down two enemy fighter jets was more serious than you would think. You were surely going to get interviewed over it.

“Don’t worry doll. I’ll take the heat.” He pushed you forward by placing his fingertips to the small of your back. You thanked your lucky stars you were in your flight suit, and he couldn’t see sheer amount of goosebumps that exploded across your body from his touch. God, how embarrassing. He didn’t even have to try, and you were already weak.

“You better. It was your fault after all.” You countered feeling more and more like yourself as you talked it out with Jake. This was the guy you had a mad crush on. Jake. Not Hangman. Jake Seresin, the cowboy from Texas.

He shook his head with a growing smile on his face, “You’re lucky you’re cute.” It slipped out so quickly Jake wasn’t sure if he actually said it. But there it was. It was out there now. You had to have known how adorable he really found you.

Your head whipped around quickly giving him your own version of a smirk, “You think?”

He had a choice. Play it off or go all in. He had hardly thought this was how his day was going to go. He didn’t even know he really liked you like that earlier this morning. Now here he was ready to admit to it? What in the hell was even happening? But who was he kidding? He’d be flat out lying to deny it. He wasn’t a liar.

“Know so.” He shot you a wink before grabbing a loop on your flight suit to keep you on pace with him. Fuck it. He’d decided he was going all in on you now. Might as well step his flirting game up with you while he was at it.

You were so shocked by his admission you hadn’t even realized the smooth ass move he pulled by literally pulling you along with him. The move was so confident you were practically on your knees already. He looked over seeing your dazed expression.

His deep chuckle brought you back to the present, “What’s the matter darlin’? Cat got your tongue?” He dropped his hand from the loop so close your chest.

You didn’t drop your eyes from his hand that had pulled you along with him, “No. Just thinking.”

“What about?” He raised his eyebrows challenging you. He was clearly feeling a whole lot better. He was laying it on thick.

“Work.” It wasn’t a lie. He was work. He was all you were able to think about.

He smirked as he knowingly brushed his hand along yours. God he was a pro. He knew exactly what he was doing to you, “Sure doll. I think you’re lying though. You were thinking about me.”

You shook your head quickly not daring to draw your hand away, “In your dreams Seresin.”

He ran his index finger along your pinky, taking any touch he could get, “What if I told you I dreamed about you last night?”

“Shut up.” You didn’t believe him as you pressed on.

“Got me thinking about you doll.” His long strides kept pace with your quicker shorter ones. He wasn’t letting you walk away from this one. Lucky for him it was at least a ten-minute walk to the captains office where you’d debrief. Plenty of time to get you admitting some feelings he knew you had. Not with those emotions he’d seen earlier.

“I said shut up Jake.” Rolling your eyes, you willed yourself to get to the captains office faster. He was so much taller it didn’t matter. You could be sprinting, and he’d still be right by your side.

He ignored you, “Thinking about how smart you are. How often you kick my ass. How often you save my ass.” His eyes lingered in your at that last statement.

“What are you doing?” You stopped looking at him desperately. What was he doing? Was he going to blow this whole nonexistent relationship up? It’s not like you were the best of friends to begin with. Casual acquaintances. Training enemies. Mission buddies who were far more successful than not. The two of you were dancing on something that was hardly even there.

He shrugged, “Telling you the truth.”

“Why?” You took a step back boxing yourself against the wall.

“Why not?” He took a step closer pinning you against the wall placing either hand next to your face. It was so silent you could’ve sworn he could hear the gulp you took trying to regain some composure. What in the hell was even happening right now? Sure, you’d been crushing on him for what feels like just as long as you’ve known him there’d been no sort of indication he’d had any inkling of interest.

“Anyway,” He only grinned seeing your face. You looked starstruck. Like you couldn’t believe what he was doing. Hell, he couldn’t believe what he was doing. He hadn’t even really properly thought it through. But he good feeling about it. A really fucking good feeling about it, “As I was saying. I was thinking about how fucking pretty you really are. Especially when you wear that yellow sundress. You’re a vision, Y/N.” He was so close. So, so close.

Your head spun with his scent and that admission. He smelled so fucking good. A mix of wood and cinnamon. It mixed with his natural musk oh so well. If you weren’t in the middle of the open you’d probably jump right on him intending to rip that suit right off of him. But you couldn’t those thoughts right now. Not when you were about to get your head chewed off. You were ten minutes late already. That was already a hole you had begun to dig yourself.

You looked from one of his eyes to the next. The overwhelming feeling to lean up and kiss his him was starting to take hold. What in the hell was the matter with you?

“Didn’t your momma teach you that lying’s bad?” You whispered. It was a way to ask for confirmation without straight up asking for it. A way for him to deny it for the lie it was.

He shook his head quickly, “I never lie. ‘Specially not to you doll face.”

Your mouth dried slightly. Your lips parted to respond before they closed. Cat really did get your tongue now, “Thank you, Jake.” You could hardly hear your whisper. But he sure did.

“Anytime darlin’. Now let’s go. Get this shit over with.” He took your hand in his once more. He wasn’t planning on dropping it until he got to that door.

He watched as you walked in. Fool. That’s exactly what he was. He was a damned fool not to see you right there in front of him. But he knew one thing. He wouldn’t let you slip away now that he knew what he had. You. He planned to make you the fool’s girlfriend soon. Very, very soon.

Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @dempy

[twistedastrology]

you cannot run a subreddit like a fucking dictatorship.

----------------------------------------------------------

im pissed as hell rn so im gonna bitch abt this real quick bc im a gemini and bitching is my specialty- and i cant do a workout yet so 😵‍💫

recently I've been very active in the r/astrology subreddit, primarily answering people's questions bc it's my favorite thing to do

I answered one person's question about the difference between the ascendant, chiron and north node, i was incredibly happy to answer bc i love helping people, especially with "easier" questions like that- (i use quotes to be respectful bc i am of the belief that no question is a stupid question)

i will give the mods one thing, they DID have a rule about self promotion even if the thing you're promoting is free- that one was my bad (i offered to look at someone's chart) and i will (and did) own up to it.

the one i will NOT own up to is the one that was not written in the fucking rules goddamn anywhere.

for reference, this was my comment that they took out back and shot:

just from this shit alone i was fucking pissed off because no goddamn way you're gonna sit here and tell me "degree theory has absolutely no basis" DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH OF ASTROLOGY AS A WHOLE IS JUST THEORIES AND INTERPRETATION.

there's a reason astrology and astronomy are separate. one is based off of actual, provable mathematical equations, and the other is INTERPRETATION.

i replied, and then they did too:

"we caJT pUt eVery PoSsIblE tHiNg iN tHe RulEs" YOU HAVE 6 FUCKINH RULES. YOU CAN ADD ONE ESPECIALLY IF YOU'RE SO PISSY ABOUT IT. what are you allergic to the number SEVEN???? is it because it's a LIBRA DEGREE? $! #?? #? #

and the fucking "and I'd encourage you to study them" id encourage you to study my fucking ass while i fart in your face motherfucker u wanna find out how korn got their fucking band name? $! #? #? #? #?

you dont believe in degree theory??? Fun fact: your north node of destiny is in 26° MY ASS and your mercury is in 3° BULLSHIT- and your ass and my foot are in a 0° orbit conjunction 🥳🥳🥳

motherfucker degree theory is a T H E O R Y. you can't just remove someone's fucking comment yapping about it because you think it has no "basis in real astrology"- way to promote critical thinking, asshole!!!!!! you would burn the library of alexandria if you didn't agree with one fucking book in it.

this is why i was kind of afraid to go on reddit because people are so high and mighty with their astrology there that they are just about allergic to any other interpretations- and the r/astrology subreddit, at least some of the mods, seem to be exactly like that

like im sorry but my mercury in an aries degree of gemini makes perfect fucking sense to me- and the only other thing i have in aries is my venus which ISNT EVEN IN ORBIT TO MAKE A SEXTILE!!!! and these people definitely dont believe in cranking the orbits so i cant even say that 😒

not to mention dodecatemoria and decans are Technically degree theory- not in the sense of 1 degree = aries, but in the sense of "section of degrees = sign", especially dodecatemoria which is literally 0 - 29° of any sign

here's a chart in case anyone's interested:

dodecatemoria is also literally BABYLONIAN. that shit is OLD. granted egyptian decans and such are older, but that's still DECANS. AND DE GR E E S.

im not coming for everyone on the subreddit as a whole, just whoever appointed this dumbass fucking rule- why have an astrology subreddit when you can't even talk about certain astrology topics. fucking shit yourself loser i hope you burn.

to the people that dont know me that well btw i am not actually actively wishing harm on anyone- i just get very dramatic when im pissy 😒 anyway ill probably do a post on how i use degree theory soon in spite of this so keep an eye out!!! 🥳🥳

[kitten4sannie]

ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇꜱ

11 - ɪᴍᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ - ꜱᴀɴ

part 1

pairing: lead singer! san x groupie! reader (fem) feat. guitarist! seonghwa (seonghwa is just kinda there in this i’m sorry ;;)

genre: band au, smut

summary: after being rejected by your favorite guitarist, you give the lead singer a visit instead.

w.c: 2.6k

warnings: some mxm in the intro, san’s a menaceeee but so is the reader, dom leaning! san, sub leaning! reader, dirty talk, nipple play (m/f receiving), degradation, marking, brief spit mention (it wouldn’t be my fic if there wasn’t spit somewhere 🫶🏼), unprotected sex, impregnation kink (duh), there’s a big focus on cum bc i’m filthy, tiny mention of cum inflation, multiple creampies

a/n: i think this might be my favorite fff fic so far <3 i just really like the idea of alt metal ateez okayyy and plus san's my bias so i went completely off the rails 🥵 also no one asked but the lyrics of the song in the intro were taken from the ending of “kingslayer” by bring me the horizon and the bridge of “the death of peace and mind” by bad omens <3

FFF Masterlist

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“I can feel youuuuu!” San sang with every ounce of his being, bending himself backwards, his head hanging upside down, a few beads of sweat dripping from his temples. He stood back up and held onto his mic with a death grip, bringing one leg up onto the speaker that continued to blast out the loud, angsty instrumental. “Is this what you want?” The crowded chanted his name, fueling his ego and his wish to leave everything he possibly had to give on the stage.

“Then, this is what you fucking get,” he growled out, a few veins visibly straining against his freckled neck, his dark eyes filled with pure rage. “Augh!” Consumed with the energy of their performance, he tore his loose black tank top off in a downwards motion. The remaining fabric hung off of his frame, his perfectly toned upper body now on display for everyone and their mom to gawk at. When the music came to an intensely loud peak, he suddenly reached his arm out to point to someone who probably blew their load right then and there.“You motherfuckin’ shit!”

You were squished against the barricade, hardly paying attention to the rowdy people routinely bumping into you from all sides, too distracted by how mesmerizing San was onstage. And how incredibly wet you were. If Seonghwa was so fond of sharing himself with others, what was stopping you from doing the same thing?

San and the rest of the band, including Seonghwa, began banging their heads to the heavier-sounding combination of guitars, drums, and bass. “Put your hands up, motherfuckers,” San exhaled into the mic, scanning the crowd with his blown out pupils, looking certifiably insane. He always stayed in character onstage, but how much of it was an over exaggeration and much of it melded with his true persona? Not knowing turned you on to a degree you were almost ashamed of.

Most of the crowd followed his lead, reaching a hand out into the air to put up the rock symbol, though a few girls were too busy ripping off their bras to toss in his direction. You simply stood there with your bottom lip trapped in between your teeth, waiting patiently for him to find you in the crowd. Once the lead singer’s hooded eyes were on you, you lifted your band hoodie up and allowed your tits to drop out of the thick material, bouncing a bit on your heels from your excitement.

San groaned at the sight of you, not having the self-control to keep himself from grabbing his half-hard cock through his tight pants. “Are you ready for this? I said, put your fucking hands up,” he shouted to the sea of people below him, not able to take another look at your bouncing tits when Seonghwa grabbed San by his small waist, his fingers hooking into the material of the lead singer's torn jeans, yanking him in his direction.

Licking his lips, San lifted his mic in between them, allowing Seonghwa to let out his own raspy yell, his voice starting low and guttural and eventually growing louder and raw, showing off his impressive pipes. San watched him with a fondness that bordered arousal, his hands sinking into the other’s damp raven locks, gripping it tightly. Seonghwa’s eyes rolled back, his fingers still expertly hitting note after note without much concentration, as though it were second nature.

“Are you satisfied?” San yelled out, expelling the air from his diaphragm in order to produce the perfect metal scream, almost being drowned out by the overwhelmingly heavy sound of guitar and drums. He tugged Seonghwa in his direction, pressing a rough kiss onto the guitarist’s open mouth, his tongue slipping inside. Once San got his fill, he shoved Seonghwa backwards, a small string of saliva dripping from their mouths. He bent over near the edge of the stage, squeezing the mic inside his calloused hands, his once slicked-back hair now falling into his eyes. Waiting for his cue, he took in a deep breath, his neck veins making a return, shouting with raw intensity, “Are you fucking satisfied?!”

The crowd lost their goddamn minds, cheering and shouting, some still holding their rock symbols up, and others too busy shedding a tear. Personally, you didn’t understand how you survived witnessing set after set for so long, or how anybody else did, for that matter. Their performances were always so viscerally stimulating, it physically hurt that you couldn’t simply jump onto the stage and let each of them use you to their heart’s content.

-

You found yourself standing at the door of Seonghwa’s hotel room, despite your plans to talk to San after the show ended. “Goddamn it,” you mumbled to yourself, wondering why you weren’t capable of playing hard to get around him for even a microsecond. Maybe if you did, you wouldn’t be the one waiting around for him.

Hearing your eventual knocks, Seonghwa answered the door, his raven hair wet and clinging to his bare face, remnants of mascara present underneath his eyes. Naked for only a moment, he wrapped a small towel loosely around his slender hips. “Baby, hey. What’d you think of the show?”

Your pensiveness melted in an instant, instead being replaced by your clear adoration for him. “God, I can’t even describe how it made me feel, Hwa. I just know how fucking wet it made me.”

He chuckled to himself, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe. “You’re always wet for me, Y/N.”

You took a step closer, your hand moving past his towel to lightly stroke his length, lifting yourself up onto your heels to whisper near his face, “Always.”

Seonghwa took in a deep inhale and let it out, leaning his head back, growing hard inside your grip. "Baby..." After a few moments, he brought himself back to reality, suddenly grabbing you by the chin and pressing a harsh kiss against your lips, only to push you away, a sad smile on his flushed face.

“Hwa…?” you mumbled, slowly retracting your hand, your eyes wide with surprise.

Two separate feminine voices came from the bed that was out of view, the both of them whining about how he was taking too long. Seonghwa sighed, rubbing his neck. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I should’ve told you I was busy tonight. Why don’t you visit San?”

“Maybe I will.” No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t keep your lips from forming a small pout, though you were able to furrow your brows in annoyance. “You know what?”

Seonghwa frowned, feeling bad, but knowing you wouldn’t want to join him as a third. You simply required too much attention from him in a group setting, unable to handle when he took care of others in front of you. “What?”

Your pout was replaced by a subtle, but distinctively smug smirk. “I’m gonna let him put a baby in me.”

-

Okay, take two. You knocked on San's hotel room door, unconsciously pulling on your hoodie strings, leaning back on your heels. You almost felt like you should back out, not wanting to get rejected by your idols one after another. Before you could take a step back, San opened the door halfway, giving you a lewd, almost cheshire-like smile, his eyes surveying your chest as though he were reminiscing about what had occurred an hour earlier. "What brings you here, doll?"

Wrapping one of the hoodie strings around your index finger, you looked up at him past your fluttering eyelashes, your tongue wetting the corner of your glossy lips. "Is that offer still good?"

San’s brown eyes dilated in real time, his face and body almost frozen like he was malfunctioning, before immediately turning around to yell at the half-dressed groupies lazing around on his bed. "Time for you guys to go! Something just came up, so go find another band member to fuck, alright?”

The group of girls and guys, some older and some younger, groaned and cursed amongst themselves, eventually filing out of the door, some of them giving you dirty looks. “You better fuck him good for us,” one of them grumbled near you, prompting you to emit a small ‘yep’, before he disappeared down the hallway with the rest of the groupies.

You turned your attention back to San who had already grabbed your wrist, pulling you into the room and shutting the door behind you, pressing you against it with his heated body. "You were about to fuck all those people?" you asked casually, reaching down to slip your hands underneath his sleep tee, your fingers exploring the soft curves of his hips and stiffness of his abdominal muscles, not able to decide which felt better underneath your touch.

"Yeah..." he sighed, arching his back slightly when you began to play with his pierced nipples. “I like performing for a crowd…” He eventually leaned his head into your shoulder, emitting small breaths of air, your fingers expertly tweaking and twisting the small metal bands to give him maximum pleasure.

“Of course you do.” You lifted San's shirt off of him, your fingers going back to his pebbled buds to play with them some more, pulling at his piercings, making him groan. "Do you fill all of them up with your cum, Sannie?"

“Uh-huhhh…” San exhaled into your neck, bringing one of his hands up to slip underneath your hoodie, grabbing onto one of your tits, squeezing it roughly inside the palm of his hand. “Every last one.”

You moaned, your fingers going lax for a moment, caught up with how San pushed both hands under your hoodie to knead your tits around, his fingers flicking your nipples. "Ahh, how do you not run out?"

He grinned after hearing the small squeaks you made when he pinched and pulled at them instead, mumbling in a deep voice near your ear, "I just have a lot of love to give, doll."

Boldly slipping your hand past his briefs and gripping his hardened cock, you asked in a sweet tone, "Does that mean you have a lot of love to give me?"

-

San had you folded up on the mattress, holding your ankles down near your head, slamming his hips into you so quickly and forcefully, neither of you could take a proper breath. He leaned his head down, his wet bangs tickling your forehead from being so close, chuckling softly at the sight of your starstruck expression. "You look like you want to say something, Y/N."

"You were—aaah—so amazing onstage earlier, Sannie..." you breathed out, your cunt clenching tightly around his throbbing cock, familiar with the warmth and thickness of his cum, knowing he was shooting more inside you. "You made me so fucking wet..."

Almost shuddering from how hard he was cumming, San buried his face into your hickey-covered neck, sucking on the skin of your collarbone, groaning out, “I already know how goddamn wet I made you. I bet those panties of yours were drenched by the end of the show, huh?" San moved down from your neck to your chest, slurping up each of your tits into his mouth, one at a time, giving them both the attention they deserved.

"I had to play with myself on the tour bus on the way back here..." you admitted, wanting to say more, but being unable to, emitting a sharp gasp instead. Your tits were a lot more sensitive now, especially from how San alternated between having them inside his mouth and using his tongue on them. “No one saw me though, I swear. I did it in the bathroom.”

He spit onto one of your already shiny tits, wanting to make more of a mess, before he dove in to suck and lick at them like he was racing against an invisible timer. "Mm, looks like babydoll can't get enough of me onstage...so much so that she resorts to being a needy little whore all by herself," he mumbled on your bruising skin, eagerly flicking his tongue at a nipple, making you squirm underneath him. "Bet you wanted me to pull you onstage and pump a baby into you in front of all those people, huh, naughty girl?”

"Yeah, I did...and it's your fault," you whined softly, emitting a set of soft, airy moans, San's cock brushing against your g-spot over and over. "Take responsibility, Sannie." Your fingers clenched into the muscles on his broad back, feeling them tense up underneath your touch.

"My fault? My fault you needed me so badly that you resorted to showing these pretty tits off in front of everyone?" Finding your dick-drunkenness to be amusing, he wanted to push the topic, pressing kisses to your neck up to your jaw, still thrusting into you at a fast pace. "It's my fault for turning you into a shameless little slut? Hm?"

"Yes!" you cried out, your voice broken and hoarse from how hard you were cumming, your trembling thighs squeezing around his tiny waist.

"Hm, I guess I should take responsibility, huh?" Blowing a few strands of hair out of his hooded eyes, he pulled out slightly, holding the tip of his cock against your pulsing hole. "I should take responsibility for all these fuckin’ loads I'm filling you with too," he groaned, stroking himself for a few more seconds, his seed eventually spurting out onto your mound, the liquid dripping down along your puffy folds.

“Mm, fuck, that’s it,” you reacted, reaching down with one hand to rub his cum around your cunt, pushing two fingers inside your gaping hole to fuck the liquid into yourself. However, your fingers weren’t enough to satisfy you. You needed his cock inside. You needed to be filled with his hot, milky love one last time. “It’s not enough, Sannie. I need more.”

Your shameless desperation and insatiable lust was like chicken soup for his black soul, making him hard again almost instantaneously. “Yeah? You want to milk me completely dry, doll?”

“Yes, please.” You suddenly lunged up from the bed and pushed San down, his back hitting the mattress with a bounce, sinking down onto his length without a second thought, his cum being pushing out of you.

“God, yes, ride me, baby, just like that,” San growled, gritting his teeth, one hand gripping your hip tightly, the other on your lower stomach, allowing you to fuck yourself to hell and back using his cock. “You’re so full for me…so full of my seed…yet, it’s not enough…” He pressed on your abdomen, feeling some resistance, convinced that his cum was making your tummy swell slightly. “God, I fuckin’ love you…”

Bouncing on San’s dick with feverish speed, you started to pant heavily and drool a bit, not even caring that he was seeing you in such a fucked-out state. You were simply too desperate to make him cum again, to the point that you didn’t even care about reaching your own high. “Fill me up, Sannie. Please, please, please fill me up with your cum…Fuck it into me, into my womb…make me yours…”

Your whiny-sounding words and tight, cum-slicked cunt brought San to his end, making him shudder and thrust wildly up into you. “God, here it comes, baby…take my fucking load…” He let out a series of throaty, almost guttural groans, ramming himself into you until he held you completely still, slowly pumping his seed as deep as he possibly could.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah…” you echoed weakly, pretty sure you were unraveling in that instant from how insanely amazing it felt to be stuffed completely full of your favorite lead singer’s seed. If you were having a baby for anyone, it was definitely him.

Once you came back down to reality, your body felt heavy and almost numb, causing you to slowly drop down onto San’s chest, your sweaty, sticky bodies melding together. “That was…Fuck, I can’t even form the words…”

San stroked your wet hair, gazing up at the ceiling, the post-nut clarity incredibly kind to him this time around. “I might have to write a song about it.” You giggled softly, moving your fingers upwards to slip into his hair as well, gently massaging the shaved area of his hair near his pierced ear.

After some comfortable silence, San eventually inquired, "So, am I your favorite band member now?"

You lifted your head up, your skin still flushed beyond measure, bringing your hand to your mouth to wipe some drool away from your lips. "I don't pick favorites."

San burst out into laughter, patting the top of your head and giving you a pleased smile, his dimples making your heart race. "Now, that's a fuckin’ lie."

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FFF: @hwalysm @scuzmunkie @creativechaoticloner @dilucpegg3r @yeosxxx @gemjimin @wonwowzers @sanjoongie @manipulatedstars @k-drizzle 

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

© kitten4sannie, 2023.

[omghallucinations]

ateez mingi: time to ruin my life :)

my og impression of mingi's chart stands. can this kid. catch. a motherfucking bREAK?? holy shit bro. it was bad enough when i just knew about the fixed grand cross (with saturn and uranus and mars in there dude like, please, malefic your way to the door). but... 8TH HOUSE SUN??? GIRL???? 8TH HOUSE VIRGO VENUS SQUARE 12TH HOUSE PLUTO??? HONEY??? BABE???? BRO??????? i mean, sun and moon at home is very cute and he does have many positive placements and aspects (that 1st house neptune is cute for example) and all the squares are actually pretty positive long term imo but like, the baggage is so heavy.

god. my heart goes out to u mingi. i mean bright side he is a very compelling combination of talented magnetic and troubled, so. tender-hearted bad boy core?

fixed grand cross: my way or the highway we aren't going ANYWHERE

tbh i genuinely love a square. that aspect supplies energy. nothing gets done without a "hard aspect"--like if you were comfortable, why would you work to improve or change things? howmstever. there can be. too many squares. squares, like saturn, tend to really trade in Fear and Anxiety, and with saturn in mingi's Super Strong Square Factory... Anxiety. Very A Lot Anxiety. oohhhh mingi, honey, are u okay, i love you.

so mingi has a textbook grand fixed cross--see how that square goes all the way around? that's the "grand" in the grand cross. intense influx of energy but like... in fixed signs we're struggling.

we've got...

aquarius uranus "manic pixie dream girl" (14.45º) in the 2nd house

scorpio mars "she's cute but a psycho" (15.40º) in the 11th house

leo sun "ME! by taylor swift" (16.17º) in the 8th house

taurus saturn "have i done enough work to go home???" (16.48º) in the 5th house

(u know how those degrees are all very close? mingi's grand cross is not a "kind of" cross. people usually give a big orb to oppositions and squares, so lots of people might have this aspect kind of, but mingi, no. it's a strong ass cross. the biggest orb is 2º, and most of the other ones are less than 1º. cannot overestimate how important this cross is to his life)

as fixed signs, aquarius, scorpio, leo and taurus all think they're right in a major way and they are not willing to listen and learn, babe. a cardinal sign square or grand cross is very "i will turn this car around." a mutable grand cross is full ass lost. meanwhile fixed signs are stalled out at a random intersection bc they all want to go in different directions and they will not compromise. they're just sat there giving each other the silent treatment, for hours.

mingi feels really stuck sometimes. the fire is blazing away, but the walls are staying put. it creates a fixed idea of how things are, a relentless energy that can eat itself. terrified of losing security. strength becomes an identity. he can get super pissy bc who wouldn't be if they were stuck in all that? he's both 100% always sure he is right about everything and staggeringly aware of the multiplicity of life and that no one knows what truth is, since a grand cross has one of each element so the energy is split.

scorpio mars in the 11th his personal energy/drive to survive if u will 1) takes no prisoners and 2) gets supercharged in public spaces (11th house) like groups and friendships, but also with his goals and ideals.

there's an intellectual vibe to the 11th--it's associated with aquarius--so mingi probably has the ability to remove his emotions in certain situations in order to focus on his goals and making decisions and the bigger picture

(thinking about hongjoong prank telling them he was leaving and mingi immediately like, am i the leader now, while yunho is crying in the bathroom, that's scorpio mars in the 11th)

he's not unemotional--he has a cancer moon dude--but he does have the ability to compartmentalize and kind of be like, ah my intellectual toughness, u wouldn't understand,,

(until his emotions bust out of the cage and they're doing not fine)

mars in the 11th detaches itself a bit to survive--stows the emotions away for later so mingi can make hard decisions

the 11th house is ruled by mars, so that's a strong partnership and an amplifier

you can say co-ruled too, and if we run with that the other ruler is pluto in sagittarius in the 12th house--so he might be driven to act by his deep hidden sensitivity, nebulous guilt feelings or need for meaning. also his deep conviction he is right lol.

leo sun in the 8th well the sun is at home in leo, he can really shine and flourish in his identity with her--unless there are mitigating factors, it comes naturally to take the spotlight as a leo sun. and then uh, we add the 8th house! a strong goth scorpio flavor!

his #journey/search (sag rising) is about his identity (leo sun) and he's gotta do deep transformation (8th house) and um... he has to face some demons. hey demons it's me, ya boy energy

with the 8th house he's really gonna have to look at his own behaviors and choices and how he asserts his ego and like... figure out what's up with all that, psychologically

he has karmic stuff x 1000 with his many 4th, 8th and 12th house placements, so mingi is really sensitive to stuff--his ego (leo) will feel attacked whenever some unconscious possibly past life-y sore spot gets touched, and it's pretty unpredictable

(just between us bros, the 99z have insane and often touchy past life karmic connections so it's not surprising he's primed to be activated by a lot of different things)

the 8th house is ruled by the sun, who lives there, so the whole house gets a boost

the sun is in the jupiter decan, which is the middle part of leo basically, and that connects nicely to his sag rising--expansive, searching, tendency to run away??

(our first two planets in the square are personal/inner planets--they're energy that mingi produces in his personality easily. more outer planets tend to influence inner planets rather than vice versa (like mingi's saturn is working on his sun, his sun doesn't work on his saturn) so the way the squares and oppositions interact are gonna come in here.)

saturn in the 5th something in mingi's childhood felt suuuuper restrictive, like he had to be on guard all the time--home, school, society, whatever--and probably very focused on everything being practical and realistic and grounded (which a leo sun would hate, they live for the Drama).

it restricted his identity in a major way (saturn square leo sun)--that shit makes him self conscious as hell, he'll be fully Himself and vibing one minute and then the next he's like UGHHHHH whYYY am i too MUCH! and beat himself up over it

the 5th house is also the leo house which really doubles the sun-saturn connection--there's a certain amount of enforced practicality and possibly judgment in the way mingi expresses himself that is more learned than part of his personality

the 5th house is ruled by mingi's virgo venus in the 8th, which underscores that judgement quality. he's probably learned to be harsh on himself and others and value the appearance of things, the utility of things, the status quo, which conflicts super a lot with his aquarius uranus--he's learned to be critical to protect himself, but it sux also.

square 2nd house aquarius uranus--problems with authority!! sexy. hot. i am telling on myself too much with that lmao. point being: can't tell him shit. also he also feels lacking a lot--like he doesn't have enough to offer people or enough resources/ability to support what we wants to accomplish creatively or even what "authority people" will let him accomplish maybe? but this makes him want to work even harder--still there's a lingering inferiority feeling that bothers him a lot

opposite scorpio mars in the 11th--conform or be himself? go with the status quo or break free from the norm?? stay put and be safe or completely throw it off and transform himself? fight to the death for his ideals or keep it casual and restrained? big questions!! he probably bounces back and forth between these 2 extremes and it might startle the people around him lmao. one minute he is a rebel without a cause the next minute he wants to conform so bad (for safety). confusing!!

(just let him bounce between the extremes lmao, listen no one is gonna be able to help him find balance here he has to do it himself. this man is so stubborn it's insane. if you tell mingi not to do something he will almost always immediately do it)

aquarius uranus in the 2nd loves to dismantle the system, and the 2nd house is your resources. yeah money is part of it, but it's all resources. mingi might want to like, blow everything up and start over, on some level, but also he clings onto his resources (possessions, people, ideas) for fear of losing them. his values are different from conventional values and he is naturally rebellious against the status quo. also he probably wants to be super self-reliant, so he doesn't ask for help much!!

his resources might fluctuate really intensely over his life--yes, money, but also personal and professional support, personal energy reserves, mental health, all that

he's very aware that he's a unique guy, and he values that difference--the manic pixie weirdo planet is part of his resources as well as affecting them

square scorpio mars in the 11th... 😏 ok it's not actually like super sexy of a placement inherently it's just hot to me, ok!! absolute tons of energy, courage, drive, ability to make tough choices other people usually can't but the energy is super unpredictable and you, again, cannot tell him what to do

there is.... also with the opposition to 8th house.... a lot of sexual energy. and um. creativity? and sensuality? ha ha. anyway. also he may be accident prone.

aquarius is co-ruled by uranus and saturn--uranus is at home and in the mercury decan, which makes communication really important--also very changeable. he might unexpectedly open up and spill all his secrets one day and then clam the hell up the next. and saturn is really getting in uranus's business, huh. it also just continues to bold the influence of his square, since it connects these two again. mingi really feels the burden of Society and the expectations to conform

opposite leo sun his ego and identity is destined for some real intense self-development and transformation, baby!!! the 8th house is already transformation and uranus is gonna supercharge it

also this gives very "bed rot schedule" to me, like uranus opposite the sun is now u see me, now u don't. i think mingi probably needs periodic times to be completely alone in order to like... process all of the stuff he's learned about himself

his uranus is retrograde, which speeds up the urgency--uranus always wants to break free (.mp3) and individuate but with a retrograde uranus that impulse is much stronger. if mingi doesn't figure out who he is apart from societal standards, uranus is gonna force it on him somehow.

uranus conjunct south node--past life stuff babe. he might have subconscious past life situations that fuel a fear of rejection--whatever makes him try to suppress his difference and conform for safety purposes. fear of being shunned kind of thing. it's hard for him to like, fully commit to being himself.

oooh girl, virgo venus in the 8th house square pluto in the 12th 👀

mingi... 100% compatibility with toxic relationships. honey. babe. oh, it's BAD. 😭 he really puts up with shit he should not. he 1000% is like "i love passion" when him and his partner fight constantly about everything and they both cry all the time and then they kiss in the rain one time and mingi's like, u wouldn't understand, this is true love.

like. virgo and venus are not compatible. and then his venus is retrograde. this can be fine. my venus is retrograde. sometimes it's not a big deal it just means things take a while in this part of life. but with everything else going on here... GIRL.

venus retrograde--he's kind of destined to get things wrong for a while before things go right. also life really wants him to figure out his alternative lifestyle (whatever that is) lmao

virgo venus-- well she is... practical??? realistic??? very acts of service???? but um. mingi gets in his own way a lot. he is very Anxiety and nitpicks himself and others out of fear. u know "perfect is the enemy of the good"? that was written for virgo because wow does she need to hear it. mingi cannot relax. he is constantly freaking out and in crisis. (babe!!! 🥺) and crisis is kind of virgo's whole ... thing....

venus in the mercury decan -- ... anxiety. sorry buddy. also he really needs to communicate with his partner and with people in general.

venus in the 8th house--oh mingi wants to like, swap vials of blood on the first date. jk. unless...? i mean he needs a very intense feeling of commitment. mingi is insanely loyal and he expects his partner or partners to be too.

8th house and 12th house both love like. karma. transformation. black holes in the spiritual body. complexes and prophecies or something. occult shit.

8th house 😍 power and death and masochism as a treat 12th house😍 disappearing into an alternate dimension

u know??

with pluto in the 12th, mingi has some real escapist tendencies. maybe he should be careful about like... substances??? especially with neptune in his 1st house??? ha ha??? anyway.

pluto in the 12th means that the Spirit Vibes of humanity plugged into the mingi outlet and now he's downloading all these files that aren't his. um. was that too insane of a simile? i mean pluto in the 12th can really give you the Depression and the Weight of Human Suffering

on some level mingi might feel Responsible for all sorts of shit that's not on him, and he's gonna have to find Higher Meaning in life in a major way in order to feel fulfilled (as a sag rising too)

but pluto square venus.. well. potential for butterfly meme "is this toxic relationship the meaning i've been searching for?"

bright side!!!! both pluto and venus are also chatting to jupiter, mingi's chart ruler.

pluto quincunx jupiter is like an intrusive thought lmao. mingi's kind of harsh pluto disagrees with his cute 4th house jupiter, they're in constant conflict. his idealism basically and his optimism don't agree with his Vague Feelings of Terror and Guilt.

however he can harness the Power of pluto to intensify his I'm Right (philosophically) energy (not necessarily a pro ha hahaha)

taurus jupiter is on a constant, slow and steady quest for meaning and knowledge and she's gonna gain more and more over mingi's lifetime--all this niggling past life stuff harshes his mellow but also agrees that it really wants him to find meaning and dismantle said past life stuff

jupiter is strongly trine venus, so they are loving each other. this is very cute and adorable. people really like mingi! he's fun and enthusiastic! shit often pays off for him! there is a kernel of optimism in his heart that never dies!

since jupiter is his chart ruler, i think when people meet mingi they might experience both of these--like being strongly endeared by him, and also sensing kind of a darkness or a lostness in him too.

lilith conjunct ascendant

mingi is very alluring to people (sex appeal off the charts) but he fears they may Only Want Him for His Body, u know what i mean. he very easily uses his sexual magnetism and sometimes thinks it is like,.. his only weapon i guess? but he also fears that's all people want from him. he may go cold on people randomly bc of this. however he's suuuuper magnetic and charismatic, people probably get jealous of him easily and also often read him wrong.

lilith in sagittarius--he can be really reckless and not see how much he is fully running wild and making his loved ones worry sometimes

lilith in the 1st house, in general-- his moods REALLY affect the people around him and he doesn't realise this. i also have this placement and the other day i was cranky and i was like, huh wait are my terrible vibes really exuding out of me accidentally because i had recently thought about lilith in the 1st house and then i realized that i fully was exuding bad vibes so hard that everyone around me couldn't help but feel weird and i could tell they felt weird! i truly did not know that this was happening i thought i was just Keeping To Myself. this is something mingi does too. he can either fill the room with Happy Positive Energy or he can make everyone go like ... ooooh uh-oh. trainee mingi? i think a lilith in the 1st gives some amount of scorpio rising energy. you'll retreat from people and self-isolate and then maybe blame others for that too.

cancer moon in the 7th house

ok i did a write-up of all of ateez cancer moons already but i wanna connect that here bc of mingi's aforementioned relationship issues--he has a 7th house moon so he really feels the need to connect with others and have that reflected back. adorably, yunho also has a 7th house moon, stop that's so cute aughhhh.

man. what a chart and i didn't even get into his 29 degree cancer mercury or his chiron conjunct juno in the 11th house!!!

mingi... hats off to you bud. that's a lot going on. however, again, tons of potential here bc his chart is forcing him to deal with his shit, yay! does it feel good in the moment? absolutely not!!! but end result wisdom and strength so idk??? man this is a heavy load though. mingi has to do a lot of karmic untangling. bright side he really is so magnetic and compelling and has a ton of ability??

my heart hurts!!! i love him!! i gotta GO!!!

[crimeronan]

i had a dream that there was a genuinely benevolent man who wanted to give away $400,000 no strings attached to someone who truly needed it, and for some reason he considered me in the running, and i was like, "oh, i would have been last year, but i'm not anymore. like i need to be honest with you, i'd LIKE the money but i can't in good conscience take it from someone else. i'm able-bodied now and nearly back to full independence"

and he was like "okay, show me. climb these stairs."

and then he brought me to a staircase made up of about 60 incredibly steep steps. that were so sheer it was like a vertical rock climb.

my right hip was already hurting but i was like "yeah lmao, no problem :)" and started to climb. it became Immediately Apparent that i couldn't put my full weight on my right side, so i carefully hobbled up each step using my left leg and the railings.

halfway up my hip fully gave out.

the guy was like, "okay, okay, stop, i've seen enough. oh my god no. hey. STOP" and i was like "NO, I CAN FUCKING DO IT. I TOLD YOU I CAN DO IT AND I'M GOING TO DO IT." and then i pushed myself up the remaining steps by using my arms and hopping on my good leg.

which was difficult but achievable! i was incredibly proud of myself. i am the hulk. i am buff. i have the arm strength of a god.

sadly no one else was nearly as impressed. at the top there were a couple women who i guess worked with the mysterious benefactor, and they grabbed me and hauled me onto the upper landing like "WHY WOULD YOU FUCKING DO THAT?? WHY DID YOU DO THAT" as i Finally got to sit down.

anyway.

i then woke up with my right leg twisted well over 90 degrees. and pinned beneath me.

because my hip had subluxed worse in my sleep than it has in probably, like.... Over A Year.

so.

this is what two weeks without PT does to a motherfucker.

[vminhoes]

My taegi fics:

And they were roommates!

Yoongi is a tired businessman stressing over his subordinates and Taehyung is a tired college student stressing over Yoongi’s ass. Specifically, how bad he wants it.

(Explicit ✧ roommates au ✧ student taehyung, businessman yoongi ✧ roommates with benefits ✧ smut, fluff, angst)

🌹🌹🌹

Spoils of War

After the Kim pack nearly wipes out the human kingdom, Prince Yoongi is captured and brought back to Prince Taehyung as a gift.

Taehyung just wants to be left alone, and Yoongi just wants to go home. Of course they hate each other, but Taehyung will not hesitate rip anyone who touches Yoongi to shreds

(Explicit ✧ royal/hybrid au ✧ human yoongi ✧ hybrid/alpha taehyung ✧ enemies to lovers ✧ smut, fluff, angst)

🌹🌹🌹

You scratch my back, I'll blow out yours

Yoongi is the newest up and coming musician hot on the scene. At just 23, he’s an ingenious producer, phenomenal rapper, captivating performer, and overall he’s one badass motherfucker who doesn’t take shit from anyone.

That being said, he may or may not need to sleep with his record label’s son Taehyung, who’s been pining after Yoongi for months, if he wants a chance at making it big.

(Explicit ✧ coffee shop au ✧ frat boy/barista taehyung, rapper yoongi ✧ blackmail ✧ smut, fluff, angst)

🌹🌹🌹

Flower boy

Yoongi had seen far too much and done even worse to be affected by anything else life had to offer. That is, until the handsome owner of the flower shop down the street gives him a few daisies and a new outlook on life.

(Explicit ✧ mafia au ✧ drug lord yoongi, florist taehyung ✧ mutual pining ✧ smut, fluff, angst)

🌹🌹🌹

Why don't you say "I love you" back?

A little drabble based off of Yoongi’s vlive where Taehyung says “I love you” and refuses to leave until Yoongi says it back

(rated: G ✧ canon compliant ✧ yoongi's vlive - "i won't leave until you say that word" ✧ fluff

🌹🌹🌹

So cute

Yoongi just wants to bang but Taehyung can’t be serious for two fucking minutes

(Explicit ✧ college au ✧ boyfriends!taegi ✧ smut, fluff)

🌹🌹🌹

There was only one bed

In an act of pure desperation, Yoongi grabs the nearest stranger and proclaims him to be his new boyfriend in an effort to prove his ex that he’s moved on. He realizes too late that said stranger turns out to be an ingenious marine biology major who surfs and looks to be sculpted by the gods.

Luckily for Yoongi, said stranger also happens to love romance novels, and his favorite tropes include “fake dating” and “there was only one bed.”

(Explicit ✧ college au ✧ fake dating ✧ only one bed trop ✧ smut, fluff, pinch of angst)

🌹🌹🌹

The best part of me was always you

Yoongi was thriving. He’d moved across the world, gotten his degree, his dream job, and a fantastic boyfriend. Visiting home was going to be a piece of cake now that he had so much to show for.

That is, until he unexpectedly sees Taehyung for the first time in years at an engagement party.

(Explicit ✧ modern setting au ✧ exes taegi ✧ exes to lovers ✧ hurt/comfort ✧ smut, heavy angst, fluff)

🌹🌹🌹

I'll be gentle

Yoongi says that the only thing more shameful than being a virgin at 25 would be to let his best friend's obnoxious little brother be his first time, so Taehyung thinks of a solution to ease his childhood crush of that insecurity.

(Explicit ✧ college/university au ✧ unrequited crush ✧ loss of virginity ✧ smut and fluff)

🌹🌹🌹

Broken Hearts Club

What happens when piano teacher Yoongi and race car driver Taehyung are both hot, heartbroken, and desperate for a distraction?

That's a genuine question, because it doesn't seem like anyone knows including them, but here goes nothing.

(Explicit ✧ taegi au ✧ heartbroken taegi ✧ friends with benefits ✧ strangers to lovers ✧ smut and fluff)

🌹🌹🌹

Hold me close, I'll keep you warm

Trapped in an old shack with a blizzard storming outside, it looks like the only thing left for Yoongi and Taehyung to do is hold each other to stay warm—no matter how badly they hate each other.

...Unless?

(Explicit ✧ taegi omegaverse au ✧ cat hybrid yoongi, wolf hybrid taehyung ✧ alpha taehyung, omega yoongi ✧ enemies to lovers ✧ smut and fluff)

🌹🌹🌹

Stop copying me!

After getting off on the wrong foot at Coachella, beloved influencers Yoongi and Taehyung declare an immediate rivalry, and each devise their own plan to enact revenge on the other.

The only problem is that they create the same plan, and it inadvertently results in everyone assuming they’re dating.

(Explicit ✧ taegi au ✧ gamer/streamer yoongi, model taehyung ✧ stubborn/petty taegi ✧ enemies to friends with benefits to lovers ✧ crack, smut, fluff)

🌹🌹🌹

Dinner and a show

Yoongi doesn't expect the hot guy he's been crushing on to be the who he's delivering food to, and Taehyung doesn't expect the pretty omega who doesn't know his name to come to his door in heat

(Explicit ✧ taegi omegaverse au ✧ omega yoongi, alpha taehyung ✧ college students taegi ✧ heat sex ✧ smut, fluff)

🌹🌹🌹

Barbie Dreams

Young, gorgeous, and filthy rich tycoon Kim Taehyung is tired of the models and celebrities around him at his disposal, and seeks out something new to satiate his desires.

Enter Min Yoongi: the highest paid prostitute at the Dreamhouse—an entirely pink, Barbie themed brothel.

(Explicit ✧ taegi sugar daddy au ✧ sugar baby yoongi, sugar daddy taehyung ✧ slow-ish burn ✧ acceptance of feelings ✧ smut, fluff, angst)

🌹🌹🌹

Printer jam

Someone in the office has been clogging the communal printer with useless documents, and Yoongi fully intends to find and confront the mystery printer fiend for his crimes of killing so many trees.

Things don’t exactly go according to plan when Yoongi ends up bent over his desk by said mystery printer fiend instead.

(Explicit ✧ taegi office au ✧ accountant yoongi, intern taehyung ✧ office crush ✧ pining ✧ desk sex ✧ smut, fluff)

🌹🌹🌹

Why don't you love me?

Taehyung is an unconventional alpha who defies all societal norms and rejects the idea of outdated, traditional alpha/omega relationships.

To maintain their friendship, Yoongi tells Teahyung that he feels the same. Only, he's an omega, and he's been in love with Taehyung since the they first met

(Explicit ✧ taegi omegaverse ✧ university au ✧ unrequited love ✧ alpha taehyung, omega yoongi ✧ mating bites ✧ love confessions ✧ smut, fluff, angst)

🌹🌹🌹

Fly me to the moon

At the end of their last vacation before going long distance, Yoongi allows Taehyung to vlog their final night together.

And Taehyung plans to vlog every part of the night

(Explicit ✧ established relationship ✧ long distance boyfriends ✧ hotel sex ✧ sex tapes ✧ smut, fluff, angst)

[morgana-ren]

He seems to indulge them a little more than he would anyone else

He definitely sees them as something more than he should, whether he admits that to himself or not. He saves them on several occasions, tries to interfere if you get sent to hospital or prison. He gives more attention and care to PC than any other of his charges. So What do you think Bailey sees the PC as? What he views their relationship as?

(Bailey is definitely someone with a lot of power in this town, even the Mayor seems scared of him, theres absolutely something more going on with him than just main antagonist, hopefully they expand more on his character soon!)

At first, I was thinking because the PC is obviously the best money maker for them. A little cash cow under their control. It's in his best interest not to let people have their way with you for free, or know that they can get to you in any way that doesn't involve going through him first.

But in truth?

He protects you before that's really the case.

(Realistically, from the game dev's point of view, it's meant as a soft block to keep you from fucking up too badly and ending up somewhere you aren't prepared for and ruining your game before you're ready. I know that.)

When you're an S tier beauty with massive mommy milkers and a can that could make pringles jealous, it's understandable. You're his best little orphan. His prized product. He's got buyers coming through left and right vying for a piece of your ass, and he tells you as much constantly.

(Though... Avery will pay you a lot of money-- almost all of what you pay Bailey, and he does it willingly, so it's not out of the question to think that someone has offered Bailey more than he charges you, but he has turned it down for... one reason or another.)

But what about when you're just a cute little thing, barely big enough for your boots and getting your bearings? Not really sexy or even appealing yet-- just kind of benign and adorable. Sure, he extorts you, and he's a cruel, ruthless motherfucker, but by God, does he bear teeth trying to defend you.

And he gives you four chances. With Robin, it's one payment out, and he sells them off. With you? He's easy by comparison. You don't get off scott free by any means, but he doesn't just sell you to the dock workers.

He openly admits attraction to you when you fuck him, and not just recently either. Straight up admits it.

"You were always the best looking little bitch."

He's not saying you're the best looking little bitch now that you're impaled on his cock, or even recently, but that he's always noticed your allure. On some level, he's always been aware of his attraction.

Implies possession. Like this is something he's thought about and contemplated. Like he's always claimed it, and known that it was always his to begin with. Like it was only a matter of time.

Not something a typical caretaker usually does, me thinks.

Did I, Bailey? Or did you? Was this inevitable to some degree? Cause it seems like it's been weighing on your mind for a while. Seems like you're trying to convince me— or yourself— that this wasn't your choice. That it was mine.

Want me to remember you fondly? Or with pleasure? Or knowing that the first time was yours and there was never any question or choice, and that I will always belong to you, no matter where I end up?

I think it's a lot more complicated than he lets on— and he hates it.

Obviously they can't have you seducing the main antagonist or else you'd lose the drive of the game. Bailey is the thing that keeps you working and grinding and playing. Having him soften and open his heart would fuck that unless it was replaced with something else.

But in my mind? Bailey is watching and waiting. Repressed and about to burst. A few careful, tactful actions like you've done before and it might unlock something you're not entirely ready for.

His love wouldn't be soft, or even pretend to be sophisticated like Avery. It's fierce and hateful, with hands that bruise and teeth that bite and chains that constrict. You ruined him, and he'll ruin you in return. If he can't bear to let you go, he'll extract value from you himself.

(let me dream, Vrel, let me dream.)

[redguns]

Armored Core 6 main cast thoughts. spoilers for all endings

btw. categorizing endings by number rather than if they're "good" or bad" because i think thats stupid. if you categorize them like that you're a fool! Coral take you!

Starting off with Handler Walter. Went into the game not trusting him at all. Whenever he said anything I always thought "Yeah, okay, whatever Walter. in that kind of mocking tone but that changed quicker than i thought once i realized there was a genuine care in his voice and started putting the pieces together for his end-goal. The second ending is genuinely heartbreaking. He really meant every word he said to you. And I adore him for it. View him like a father now

Moving on, Ayre. My beautiful coral anomaly wife.. her kinder and more supportive demeanor immediately sold me, of course, but it was her efforts to actually get me to care about Rubicon as a planet and it's people that really hit. It's special. It's tasteful. It feels great. And it hurts all the more in the first ending when I have to discard all of that. It sucked so much. I was on the verge of tears throughout the whole final boss of the first ending. Worst break-up of my life. Girl I love you so much

Up next, speaking of love, is "Cinder" Carla, who I fell in love with like, 2 lines in? Very attractive voice and then an incredible personality to go with it. Probably the most fun character in the game by design and it goes a long way. She's like a role model to me. I want to be her and I want to date her at the same time. She's just like me Fr. I want to kiss her

transitioning from that to V.IV- SIKE IT'S "CHATTY" STICK TIME Phenomenal. Absolutely incredible performance. Absolutely sells the no emotion AI aspect without being too overbearing. Armored core as a series has always had a high standard for AI characters, and chatty is absolutely at the top of the pile for me along with Chief from V... I love him so much... The strongest little soldier...

Up next, for real now, is V.IV Rusty. What a strong first impression. It was always his line that stuck with me from the trailer. Ready to climb over the wall? They nailed the "rival pilot who's just like you but in another faction" to a degree I haven't seen in decades. A genuine brother in arms. My best buddy in the world. Every time he showed up in the game he just did the coolest fucking thing in the world. Slides right under the door as its opening. Crackshot sniper nailing insane headshots. And then he gets the coolest fights in the game against you. BOTH OF THEM!! HE'S SO COOL!!! HE'S HIM!!!!!! I WAS SO HAPPY IN THE SECOND ENDING ROUTE TO FIGHT ALONGSIDE HIM!!!! THATS MY BROTHER!!!!!! THATS MY BUDDY!!!!!!!!!

..Ahem, moving on then. V.II Snail. Yes. Another motherfucker they nailed perfectly. From the first SECOND you hear his voice you hate him. The fact his head's up his own ass. The fact you keep learning over and over throughout the game that he's SUCH a piece of shit. The fact there is nothing he wouldn't do to stay on top. Despicable little man. Absolutely brilliant antagonist.

And now, finally, the last main character to talk about is G5 Iguazu. Where to begin with this guy... Right from the get go you understand the kind of character he is. All bark, no bite. Every now and then you run into him, you kick his ass, he whines and seemingly gets away. It's interesting, then, that in the second playthrough, already, he shows up more. He sends an assassin after you. And that's that. Nothing until route 3, where it all finally comes together. How he keeps coming back. The ringing in his ears. His hatred and envy of you so strong he gives up his entire body just for a chance to beat you. He's fascinating to me. For whatever reason, his final words stick to me like glue. How he sees you, despite everything. A relic, yes, but one who's free. He wanted those wings, too. I've really come to love him, and what an annoying brat he is. That's his entire charm. He is welcome to the pantheon of Real Haters

there. that covers all the main players. that ended up being longer than i expected. thank you if you humored reading through all of that! i dont usually do these kinds of posts cause i go on for too long!

but this shit mean something to me man

[ilkkawhat]

i'm drunk enough to think about nick again (not that it like, hurts to think about him anymore i think that heartbreak is solved) and godDAMMN they really buried a man alive on network television and then went the extra mile to make him get EATEN ALIVE AND then almost k*ll himself and WHAT I WOULDN'T GIVE to watch this in an IMAX theater, being buried alive is the ultimate Horror Trope for me and it happened on the one character that takes the cake, that changed my life forever like there has been characters that have impacted my life that i think made me better as a person but nick stokes is on a whole nother fucking level and it all started with this episode where he gets kidnapped and buried and i distinctly remember what it was like watching it for the first time, knowing that he survives cause he obviously shows up in episodes after this one and i started watching csi with re-runs of season 4 on spike tv but also the live season 6 finale where nick was clearly okay and cracking jokes even at a scene about severed heads (god bless him) but one day spike tv showed this episode and i stomped into the living room after part 1 ended almost yelling at my dad like ARE YOU KIDDING ME HOW DOES HE SURVIVE THAT BUT HE'S NICK FUCKING STOKES SO OF COURSE HE DOES AND i've never been that close to the knife or bullet in my life but have had..............idealiziations myself and sometimes, just sometimes, i remember how he was at the end of his rope, he waited until the last fucking second like think of a fucking saw trap he would fucking dominate that because he's nick stokes and he doesn't give up, he doesn't believe in past lives cause he's just fucking trying to get through this one and he's been though so fucking much between the fucking babysitter and stalker and gunpoint and being buried alive? ok yeah just another day in the office for him, he fights like hell, he resists his own temptations, he has so much belief in his co-workers, his mentor aka former boss that they'll find him that he hangs on for almost 24 hours in this goddamn coffin designed to torture him, sure, he can stay alive with the provided fan (something that honestly this year, i've have instilled myself when i go to bed) but the fan's gonna die and can they find him before that fan runs out? not fucking likely but TV magic unbeknownst to him they DO cause otherwise lmao nick stokes woulda died in the season 5/15 finale and i probably would have stopped right there even though grissom was my fav at first NICK STOKES STOLE MY HEART and even in my darkest hours i'll think of him, as if a ghostly image of him shows up in the mirror, "i survived why can't you?" motherfucker this is mY BOY stronger than any character i've ever related to--obviously nick and i have had different lives and he's so much stronger and better than me in so many ways but i guess he's what i aspire to be (albeit with a bit less...ignorance but nick is def the type who like. learns his lesson, he matures out of old prejudices which i admire SO MUCH of him) and i don't think i could have had such a strong role model in my formative years cause i started watching csi in 7th grade cause a real forensic scientist came to our school and of course, mentioned how CSI was not real but it piqued my curiosity and it possibly sparked my interest in horror to a degree cause my first episode was a horrifically bloated body (4x02 to be exact, assume nothing nick) and as a 7th grader up until that point even though 9/11 had passed (i was in like. 4th/5th grade that point) i guess i didn't know how cruel people could be but nick showed and continues to show me that people have the capactity of enduring the worst horrors this world can inflict on a person and they can still come out on top, they can still be the hero, they can still save themselves as well as others and FUCK man i miss nick stokes

[kamiko1234]

*SWEARING & YAPPING AHEAD. EVERYTHING STATED HERE IS MY SUBJECTIVE OPINION AND IN NO WAY MEANT TO REFLECT THE OBJECTIVE TRUTH*

Hi yeah I just started chapter 14 and- am I the only one who sort of HATES how Thalia's being handled? And also Percy to some degree? Like- Thalia and Percy had just had this a conversation about Luke and ngl? Thalia sounded like such a selfish and entitled BITCH like!? The way she talked about "Luke's bad decisions" and that "they all have tough things to deal with" !? JUST NO! YK WHAT THALIA!? FUCK YOU! Like is she for real here? Really!? REALLY!? Like I get that Thalia is angry at Luke, and that the guy did some stupid and bad stuff but- TO ACT SO APATHETIC TO IT ALL!? LIKE HE'S ACTING UNREASONABLE OR SOMETHING!?

This isn't solely "Luke's just being a brat about something we all had to deal with". Luke's mother went INSANE. He was stuck with a mom having MENTAL FITS TO THE POINT OF HIM HAVING TO HIDE IN CLOSETS. The boy had to run away and live on the streets ALONE.

He had ZERO SUPPORT SYSTEMS IN PLACE.

For the love of GOD Thalia! Way to show you have the empathy of a STONE. And that guy was supposed to be your friend!? Not going to lie Thalia doesn't feel like someone who knows Luke in this book, even if she way mad at him. AND THEN THE COMMENT ABOUT HIM SUPPOSEDLY BEING AT FAULT FOR THEM NOT GETTING TO CAMP IN TIME 'CAUSE OF "PICKING FIGHTS WITH MONSTERS" LIKE??????? Like is the author for real right now? THAT'S what the consense is????? Last time I checked monsters were a bunch of blood thirsty LITTERAL GOD DAMN MONSTERS whose number 1 hobby is hunting and killing demigods. EVERYONE ELSE litteraly fights them ALL THE TIME.

BUT WHEN LUKE DOES IT IT'S SUDDENLY BAD!? THE FUCK???

And then the way she PHRASED it!? "Picking fights" implies that LUKE was the one who started the confrontation when i know DAMN WELL he didn't. Those were MONSTERS, they are KNOWN FOR ATTACKING DEMIGODS. BUT NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO LUKE IS AT FAULT FOR THE FIGHT FOR SOME REASON! NOT THE BLOODTHIRSTY CREATUREAKNOWN FOR ATTACKING DEMIGODS!?

AND THEN THALIA ALSO SEEMS TO FORGET THE WONDERFUL FACT THAT LUKE WAS LIKE- UNDER 14 STILL WHEN ALL THAT WENT DOWN! That boy was a CHILD.

But I guess defending yourself is bad now! Sorry dude you heared Thalia, you should have just laid belly up and let yourself get killed^ Ands then that stupid ass line about Hermes loving Luke as if somehow made up for something????? LIKE BE SO FOR REAL THALIA WE BOTH FUCKING KNOW THAT HERMES "LOVING LUKE" DOESN'T MEAN JACK SHIT. I DON'T CARE HOW MUCH HE LOVED HIM HE STILL WAS A SHITTY ASS FATHER WHO DID FUCK ALL FOR HIS KID.

And now before anyone comes at me about this. I do not give a CRAP about that rule Hermes mentioned of gods not being allowed to meddle with mortal affairs because A) YOU GUYS ALREADY FUCK MORTALS TO PRODUCE CHILDREN WITH THEM!? THE FUCK YOU MEAN YOU "AREN'T ALLOWED TO MEDDLE WITH MORTALS" AND

B) LUKE WASN'T EVEN A FUCKING MORTAL YOU DIPSHIT!? HE WAS A DEMIGOD! A CHILD DEMIGOD AT THAT!? UR A MOTHERFUCKING GOD WE BOTH FUCKING KNOW YOU COULD HAVE DONE ATLEAST SOMETHING. DON'T HIDE BEHIND SOME STUPID ALL RULES THAT ALREADY SOUND LIKE EXCUSES WHEN THEY DON'T EVEN FUCKING APPLY IN THAT SITUATION

I swear to the heavens above the way people act like it was SUCH a surprise that Luke went bad are a bunch of fucking clowns, No wonder did the guy start a war WHEN THAT WAS HIS MOTHERFUCKING SITUATION. And then GOOD GOD THE COMMENT PERCY MADE WHEN HE MET ETHAN UNDER THAT TRUCE!? WHERE HE MENTALLY CALLED KIDS OF MINOR GODS UNIMPORTANT!?

WHAT A FUCKING DICK!?

Say what you want but it takes BALLS to first be mad at them for switching sides and then pull a line like THAT.💀 Percy needs to be HUMBELED real fucking quick omfg, and Thalia too. "Luke's old friend" my ass, I'm just gonna assume she was used as the authors mouth piece here since she was handeled MUCH better in TTC. God that just made me furious, especially Percy's hypocrecy concerning minor gods. (Hopefully I understood or misheared something at that part, otherwise Percy would just be a straight up biggot.) Way to get too deep into something, please don't spoil me. Thanks.