#sincerely yours. a man who doesn't pass for shit (me)

[cator99]

please finish your wedding story, i so badly want to hear the rest of it. i await eagerly.

>everyone lived happily ever after

>a few weeks pass

>I write the brides a lengthy and detailed letter of recommendation to their immigration lawyer

>they're overjoyed and think its a beautiful letter, and I'm glad to help because I hope they last forever and get everything they want in life, if I may drop the act and be sincere for a moment

>a few days pass. the bride I've known for over 15 years messages me

>however... she doesn't care. she's on her honeymoon. and I'm just some chick she was friends with as a kid. what does upset her is how she found out.

>at first I assume that the woman who reached out to her (who I knew back in jr high, and is a few years older than me) was just trying to upset her

>bride tells me about how this woman was her best friend and then suddenly blocked her out of nowhere, which was (and is) still very painful for her

>the woman, who we will refer to as "A" whips up a story about being concerned for the bride's safety and privacy or something

>bride is confused. there's no identifying information. the post is a nothingburger to her. what's important here is that she's upset that this woman messaged her after 4 years, not to make things right..... but to talk about "zander"

>right, this is about me, because this is "A" we're talking about here...... hell hath no fury like a closet case scorned

how did she find my blog?

I assume it went like this:

>"A" goes to peek at her ex-bestie's wedding photos

>"Zander" Spotted

>runs to LC

>"hey does anyone remember Zander who I used to post about on here all the time 7 years ago? I may have found an update!"

>"that's terf cator99 who was posted about on the Women Youre Ashamed To Want To Fuck thread you fucking idiot that looks nothing like her"

>no here's proof!

>autism ensues

>several replies get deleted, other responses indicate they're "A" sperging and linking my blog

>people argue if I deserve to be there anymore

>"she's a tif"

>"no"

> yes"

>"no"

>"I used to know her" ["A" posting]

>"tell us more!"

>"she used to have this one pair of glasses and then she had this other pair of glasses that looked really good on her..."

meanwhile:

>assume she's probably back on her LC shit

>find and link bride to the LC thread and explain to her that "A" has just been trolling for fun and to pay it no mind, you're better off without her in your life

>"hey bride-chan, not to be weird but I'm just trying to understand this shit, do you think A ever had a thing for me... I always kind of assumed she was bi or gay when we were younger and thought it was cool that she was androgynous and went to school dressed as Kaito from vocaloid all the time so I wanted to be her friend but she was pretty rude to people and I backed off"

>"well i dont know but she's married to a man now..."

>yet here she is trying to get under the skin of two women who are with other women

to be fair I earned the lolcow title fair and square years ago all on my own, and really do feel I owe "A" a favor for introducing me to the site. it was very formative for me to find out places like that existed right at the moment I was starting to have conflicting thoughts about the trans shit so I could gain some self-awareness (and general awareness overall) (shout out to "A"s friend who cowtipped to me.....)

meanwhile, on LC:

>"well done ladies, we've figured it all out. Butch Lesbian cator99 is currently partying with gay men, and It is common knowledge that "gay men" are all secretly bisexuals who are looking to hook up with women who say things like "I'm a lesbian" and "I am not attracted to males". That is their mating call, in fact. These words activate the Hetero gland in the Amygdala like a sleeper agent who has been biologically programmed– as we all are– to stop the kiki-ing and split off into heterosexual pairings at the end of a poppers-fuelled night assless-twerking to Britney."

>"good work. But I'll one-up you: look at this screenshot."

[photo from an instagram account, featuring a photo of 17 year old Zander's legs in the bath. "I Am Totally Into Epic Awesome Penis Now!!!!!!" (She had never seen a penis)]

>"yes, this is definitely a normal thing for a straight woman to say. I always knew she was a faker."

>"yes. as im sure you're all aware, there are many social and career benefits from pretending to be a lesbian."

>"doesn't that idiot know that she can't just lie and change her orientation? I can't believe she's been straight this whole time."

>"what does she have to gain from lying?"

>"She's so adamant about being a lesbian, which is a dead giveaway for a cover-up operation. The more they resist, the more evident it is that they are lying in order to gain access to that highly lauded Online Lesbian Following, which is something every straight woman wants deep down."

meanwhile:

>call gf

>"bad news. I just found out I'm actually straight."

[vossn]

Listen, we all know AdMech are absolute goals in the "I replaced my gender with some cool new gadgets" nonbinary way, but I also keep coming at it from a more binary angle and it kind of tickles my brain, so. hear me out-

You do not look like a man. You looks like steel, machine, wires, cables, but these are not the things that make up a man. As flesh melts away into steel you shift closer and farther from an arbitrary point of data their decisions are based on, but it means so very little.

You honor no aesthetics because your body has long foregone aesthetic purpose. It wasn't made to be perceived, it was made to run tirelessly, and to fight just the same, to serve you, and to serve The Omnissiah. If you shape it to fit its function, who dares question you?

They will not know if you have ever been a man to begin with. You might not even know. It doesn't matter where your path of enlightenment started. It doesn't matter what your flesh looked like before it became something sacred.

You are, by all accounts, more machine than man. But you are still a man. And so you declare yourself as one, because what else would you be?

[r3ynah]

I Can be everything and anything, at once

A 27 years old Phantom was challenged to a bet, by his co-workers at the watchtower. Green lantern stated along with the the other heroes that If he could help every single one of them at least once in a month while not using any his powers and he also had to be physically and mentally there as he helps them. the cherry on top was that he needed to use his real identity instead of his ghost form in this mission.

If Phantom successfully conceals his civilian identity, while helping them, he gets to know everyone's deepest darkest secrets.

But if he loses, he must do everyone a favor and must keep it no matter how outrageous it is.

Ofcourse Phantom agreed, because he was no bitch, okay so maybe he is, he only accepts bets like this if he knows that'll he'll win. so yeah.

Besides, having no powers for this, is really a piece of cake, if you're a raging gender fluid that knows his way around makeup and can easily change the sound of his voice, to be honest the shapeshifting parts that he got from his powers are basically just add-ons.

Well what was he waiting for? afterall he needed all the blackmail he could get, not as Phantom but as Daniel James Fucking Fenton, this was an opportunity to go batshit crazy and he was absolutely stealing it.

The very first hero Danny approached to help was Wonder Woman, who thanked Danny who was now disguised as a woman wearing a long ass Red wig, and some clothes he "borrowed" from Jazz who just joked about Danny being her twin, and wished him luck.

"Thank you, young lady for your brave actions to help me." Wonder woman sincerely thanked the boy in disguise as she held both of Danny's hands as gratitude "may I ask the name of my savior? "

"My name's El, It's a pleasure to know you." Danny smiled a little wider.

The second was Flash, which Danny found completely amusing because of the way he helped the speedy hero, who tripped while patrolling around the city.

Danny who was now in a more gothic attire( thanks to Sam's help) caught the hero's wrist before he embarrassingly fell face first on the ground.

"You okay there sir?" Danny asked, as he kept a firm grip on the man's wrist to make sure he doesn't fall.

Meanwhile Flash who thought he was in those korea tv romance dramas only blue screened for a few seconds before finally get his shit together. "yeah- um- name's Flash, and you are?"

The hero tripped on his own words, making Danny amused as fuck. "James, it was nice to finally meet you"

Okay, about like three weeks in, and Danny managed to help almost everyone in the watchtower, and only a few more to go,( he didn't get why most of the heroes he helped either started to stutter or blue screen in their spot once they talk to him. like damn is this how all of you treat every civilian who interacts with you? that's just sad) but at this time, Dan and Elle found out, and were now demanding to join, with the excuse of basically being Danny but in alternate or clone form, which Danny had no choice but to give in, I mean he wasn't breaking any rules so technically this was alright.

Danny wanted to take a break so Dan took over this time.

currently Nightwing was observing the outside of the gala, Bruce was invited to, something about a bunch of drugs being hidden within the crowd, and was now being passed around.

He intently remained focused on his observation, while also keeping a conversation with Oracle and the others on the comms, he didn't realize that he was too far off the edge of the railing he was standing on, until he missed a step.

Nightwing would never admit that he let a quiet squeal to his siblings ever as he fell, he closed his eyes and braced for impact, he would never expect to fall into the arms of a man 3x bigger than him, he stared at the man, and the man stared at him. 'holy shit' Nightwing thought.

The man, chuckled making Nightwing internally scream. "When I wished for Desiree, to make someone from above to save me from this trash party, I didn't think it would be one of the birds of gotham, to come and fall for me let alone the handsome one."

Okay Nightwing was now full on red from blushing, he was put down gently by the man on the ground, before offering a handshake, once Nightwing accepted the handshake, Dan pulled the hand closer to his mouth then gave a quick peck on the back of the hand vigilante's hand. "My name's Dan Masters, it's a pleasure to meet you."

his siblings can eat dirt on how they were teasing Nightwing Right now, but this was fucking worth it.

And the last to have gotten help from Danny was John Constantine, Danny actually had a reason on why he saved John for last, and that's because John actually knows Danny's identity, so for this mission he asked the help of his daughter Elle.

Elle had helped John by fixing a ruined summoning circle, who also helped him negotiate with a demon, and somehow all day, Elle just stuck to Constatine's side, her explanation? 'He'll die without me' fair point John thought as he took the kid, to order ice cream and to hangout in the park.

"You know kid, you remind me of someone." Constantine stated while keeping his eyes on what's infront of him, which was just a bunch of trees.

Elle who sat next to him, still eating her Ice cream looked up at him and said. "Really?"

"Yeah like you two literally have the same aura and all just a little different, but I don't know who yet." He replied and ruffled the kid's hair. making the girl laugh.

"Hey John!" Danny greeted behind them, and then all the gears inside of Constantine's head began to work. he let out a groan as he realized the girl beside him was the clone of the man behind him, well he needed to kiss that secret of his goodbye. here on this spot right now or he'll die of embarrassment if he waited any longer.

"Danny, let's go on a date." Constantine stated, not facing the Man.

this comment made the Father and Daughter choke on literal air.

[vankaywie]

pairings : bigby wolf x gn!reader

tags : fluff , stinky bigby , uh I don't know

summary : helping bigby groom himself !!

an : SOMEONE REQUESTED I SHOULD MAKE A FLUFF OR A SMUT FIC OF BIGBY BUT I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED IT !!! also hiii, i am so sorry if I haven't been posting for so long, i had a writers block and basically lost motivation to do anything. i sincerely apologise😭 sorry if this is inaccurate bigby, i haven't played twau in a while and my memory sucks. also sorry if this isnt smut, i kinda wanted to do fluff... (theres an unfinished bigby smut in my notes) ANOTHER APOLOGY!! sorry if this sucks because i just wrote this and it's currently 4am..

you've noticed bigby has been itching his chin alot, he was probably getting uncomfortable on how long his messy stubble is. bigby has been incredibly busy these past few weeks so his hygiene was... a mess. so you took it upon yourself and decided to help him.

bigby comes home exhausted, immediately sitting on the couch to relax... he didn't even realise you were sitting next to him. "oh fuck—" he flinches slightly. "I didn't see you there, bub.."

a frown forms on your face. "bigby... you stink."

he raises a brow. "i am?" he sniffs himself.. good god that stench. "fuck—"

you forced bigby to take a bath, helping him wash his hair and his back, using your cherry blossom shampoo on him and your lovely soap so for once he'd smell nice. after that, you let bigby dry himself with a towel as you look for the razor.

"you're not going to shave all my stubble off, are you?" bigby chuckles, towel wrapped around his waist, his hair still soaking wet.

"oh, i will if you don't dry your hair and then get your ass on this chair." you threaten him.

he grumbles, drying his hair with a towel and sitting down on the chair infront of you. grabbing the cheap electric razor on the sink, turning it on. you gently hold bigby's chin, turning his head on an angle so you can start trimming his stubble. as you trim him, he looks at your face, admiring you.

your cheeks flushes as you feel his gaze. "don't stare..." you whisper, making him grin.

"and why shouldn't i?"

"it's distracting.."

finally, you were done. he checks himself on the mirror, satisfied at the results. "nice one, doll."

you smiled softly, putting the chair and the razor away. "thanks, bub. I've also washed some of your clothes, they're probably dry by now so you can wear 'em."

he placed a hand at the back of your head, slowly pulling you closer to place a kiss on your forehead. "you're the best."

bigby decided to have a drink at holly's bar, the trip trap bar. he was extremely stressed. but then grendell's ass started bitching at bigby, ranting about how much of an asshole bigby is... but then... "and that bitch [name] looking right pass me, then ushering me out the fuckin' door. who do they think they are to fuckin' kick me out?!" grendell groans.

the unbothered bigby suddenly whips his head to glare at the man, quickly standing up and walking towards grendell. "i wouldn't call them that." he growls, his hazel eyes turning bright yellow, hinting his transformation. "it's happened before and it doesn't end well."

a fight begun, both grendell and bigby transforming, beating the hell out of each others. bigby was clawing at grendell's back, and grendell was trying to shake him off. eventually, grendell threw bigby across the room, the wolf crashing down at the tables and chairs at the corner. "fuckin' pause!" grendell yells, panting.

bigby growls, sitting up from the floor and glared at the monster infront of him. "what?"

"why the fuck do you smell like flowers and shits?!—"

[burningcheese-merchant]

When Burning Spice was introduced a lot of people made comparison with Capsaicin, and even thought they were related. You have any thoughts on that?

I do, and you're all probably going to be very disappointed lol

Not only do I NOT vibe with the idea that they're related, I'm actually really annoyed that it's as popular as it is lol. It doesn't even make sense. Burning Spice was in prison for thousands of years; when, where and how did he have a kid? At what point in time did this occur? Capsaicin is a young man. A regular mortal, outside of his "Spice Overlord" thing. I ask you all again: when? Where? How? WHY? Has anyone ever actually thought this through?

"ThEy LoOk SiMiLaR" okay, and? So fucking what? Neither of them own the concept of "long hair" or "muscles" or "sharp teeth". Pitaya has those too, and he has an arguably more substantial connection to Capsaicin because they're actually from the same fucking area. Happenstance. Lots of characters in this game have similar attributes, that doesn't necessarily mean anything

"ThEy'Re BoTh SpIcY" Refer to point A. Do you all think all the nut-based cookies are related, too? That's the logic you might as well be operating on. Correlation is not causation

"Blah blah both jail" you know how many characters in this whack-ass phone game count as felons, bro? How many of them SHOULD count as felons lol? The Cookie Run universe might as well be one giant Alcatraz with all the shit these little affronts to God get up to every day, I ain't making them all each other's relatives because of it

They're the wrong ages for them to be family. Burning Spice was serving a life sentence since long before Capsaicin was even thought of, he literally got out after the guy was already a grown ass man. They're not even from the same fucking CONTINENT! Capsaicin has probably never even HEARD of Beast-Yeast! Even that little comic the CRK Twitter account posted makes fun of all this shit!!! The Wild Spices mistake Cap for Spice from behind, and then get confused when he turns around because THEY VERY CLEARLY DO NOT KNOW WHO HE IS AND HAVE NEVER SEEN HIM BEFORE! Wouldn't an army know if their general had a son, even if it was only mentioned in passing? Wouldn't THIS army have a vested interest in having their general's son around if he existed, and stop at nothing to bring him home should he vanish, to gain favor with Spice and because of how powerful Capsaicin is and how useful he could be to them?

I wouldn't be so bent out of shape about all this if it wasn't LITERALLY FUCKING EVERYWHERE!!! I cannot enjoy any content of Burning Spice OR Capsaicin without having to endure a fucking barrage of "hurr durr father and son" posts!!! I just want to ogle my hot, sexy, deliciously evil spice man BY HIM-FUCKING-SELF in peace, I never asked to have to hear the exact fucking same "hi son I came back with the milk" joke over and over and over again

I know I sound like a massive dick right now and I'm truly sorry. You are more than welcome to think of these two as related in some way if you wish. I am not your mother, nor your leader, nor your god, I'm just some cringe loser on the internet. Enjoy this game and its characters in whatever way you choose. I even actually like a good bit of the father/son art, a lot of it is cute and funny. I'm able and willing to say that with complete sincerity.

I just wish I didn't have to feel like it's being forced on me. That is one of the biggest issues I have with this fandom: how oppressive it often feels. You MUST ship this particular pairing, you MUST headcanon these characters as family, you MUST take this one-off joke that was clearly just a goddamn joke and preach it 24/7/365 like it's the gospel truth that Devsis themselves wrote on stone tablets and delivered from the top of Mount Sinai. And then when someone doesn't want to do that, everyone else descends upon them like a plague of fucking locusts. I actually saw a Dad Spice + Son Cap post on here with the person who made it saying something like "ok since everyone agrees that these two are family [...]" and I just got so fucking irritated. No, actually, not everyone agrees. Not everyone agrees on a lot of the fanon that's shoved down the entire community's throats on a regular basis. PLEASE stop acting like they do. I still remember when people would get flat-out harassed for not acting like Herb is Sea Fairy's son (old ass drama lol).

Say what you will about me, I'm just one person and you can block me or whatever dumb tags I use for my dumb shit. There is NOWHERE I can go to avoid this. Twitter? Plagued. Tumblr? Plagued. Even fucking reddit is on this nonsense (only in my personal opinion). But that's what I get for acknowledging Reddit in any capacity lol

I shall once again sincerely apologize for my harsh tone here, I am not attacking you personally or anyone who headcanons these two as relatives. I am just generally, profoundly frustrated and I need to get it out. I appreciate you taking the time to ask me an honest question, I hope you can forgive me for my painfully honest answer

[peaxhygirl]

𝙰𝚁𝙼𝙰𝙽𝙳𝙾 𝙰𝚁𝙴𝚃𝙰𝚂 𝚇 𝙵𝙴𝙼𝙰𝙻𝙴 𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙴𝚁 - 𝚅𝙸𝙲𝙴 (5)

: ̗̀➛𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝙱𝙻𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝚏𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝙾𝙲

: ̗̀➛𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: Raven and Armando go under cover once again. Which lands them in a sticky situation.

: ̗̀➛𝙰𝙽: Hey guys!! So, this is either part 1 of 2, or the next upload will just be part 6. :) Either way, the inspiration came from me listening to "Blick Sum" on Latto's new album. Hope it doesn't such and you enjoy! // Armando and Raven's looks pictured above.

"Mike, I think your son is on the run on again." Mike's head whipped towards his longtime partner and best friend as he walked away from Armando's room. His face crinkled in confusion, already preparing to tell Marcus to cut the bullshit "Look, I'm serious man. He's not in his room or anywhere else in the house." "Well, what about outside? In the back maybe?" Dorn offered an alternative suggestion, having grown a liking to Armando, he doubted his newfound team member would just escape.

On the opposite side of the couch Mike couldn't help but grow silent. He also couldn't fathom his son just up and going on the run. He'd seen the improvement Armando was making, an actual effort to be trusted and become a part of this team. No way he'd just up and leave. "Okay, okay. Let's think about this seriously. Where would he even run to? He has immunity so long as he's with us. So, what sense would it make for him to run?" The sound of Raven's door opening cause a hushed silence to fall over the room.

Kelly, Dorn, Mike, and Marcus all watched in surprise as a shirtless Armando exited the bedroom with two empty coffee mugs, sitting them in the sink. Black sweatpants hung loosely around his hips, his hair looked dishevel, and his lips looked red and swollen as if he'd been lip-locked with someone for hours.

"You guys are idiots." He lowly grumbled and turned on his heels to turn back into her room. The four of them were left in surprise at the sight. It seemed like years had passed before Dorn spoke. "I knew it!" Slapping his hand down on the coffee table palm up, he then wiggled his fingers. "Pay up, fuckers. Love always prevails!" He fist pumped.

Another hour passed before Raven and Armando were dressed and present for the debriefing of what was to occur that day. "Is it big?" Kelly could be heard whispering to Raven as they began to giggle. "Hey! Enough of that shit." Marcus exclaimed as Armando smirked.

"Ok Snooki and Jwow, can you two pick that conversation up later. It's time to get down to business. Based on what Armando and Raven saw last night, plus Armando's idea to infiltrate we have the perfect way in." Dorn sat up from his seat, eyebrows crinkled as he glanced around the room. "Infiltrate? How are you gonna do that?" Now it was Armando's turn to speak. "They know our faces now. If anything, they probably think we're some hot shots trying to get in on his game, become allies at the least. All we have to do is get in through that fucker that was hitting on Raven last night."

"And just where are we supposed to find him?" Raven questioned, her eyebrow raising as she eyed the brown skinned male who only smirked. "Don't worry about that, baby. I have my sources. " Raven opened her mouth to rebut, she wanted all the details if she was going to be walking back into direct danger. "Raven, trust me. We double checked it, it's a legit way in. Your captain and Rita are okay with it. We wouldn't send you into any half assed shit. You trust us?" Mike spoke up, eyeing her with pure sincerity in his eyes. She took a moment but nodded. "Yea. Let's get it then."

With that, Mike, Marcus, and Armando went on to explain the full plan.

The purr of the approaching black Lamborghini caught the attention of many in the already crowded lot. The sun seemed to dance off the paint as it traveled along the path, the unknown driver eventually parked the car before both doors opened. Those who had weapons reached for them, unaware of who the hell had just waltz into their hangout and where did they get the nerve to do so.

Time seemed to stand still underneath the blazing sun, that was until they were greeted by the sight of a woman stepping out of the car. Raven's hair whipped past her face as she looked around the crowd of men and the women that accompanied them. Her teeth chomped down on her bubble gum before she blew a large bubble, allowing it to pop shortly after. "Are we interrupting?" She smiled innocently as Armano stepped out of the car. They both met at the hood of the car, Raven's short shorts and orange and white striped bikini accented the figure that they both knew men went crazy for.

She leaned against the car, scanning the crowd for the sleaze ball they'd encountered the other day. She glanced over to Armando who wore something simpler. He wore a white tank top and black pants. The hills and valleys of his muscles more defined by the flex of him situating himself beside her. The true flash of his outfit resided in the smaller details he chose, the thin gold chain he wore around his neck practically danced with each move he made. Mike personally went out to get him shoes that were way more expensive than needed. Stating something about. "A subtle flex is what we really need." But really Raven felt he simply wanted to get his son a gift.

It seemed everyone was in somewhat awe of this random couple, but slowly returned to their previous activities. "He's coming." Raven spoke lowly to Armando who'd propped up a bit as the sleaze ball approached. "Ah, tough guy." He greeted as he approached the two. "Can I uh, can I ask what you're doing here?" The man looked around the area before he motioned to the open space. "You know, this is a dangerous place to be." The smug smile on his face agitated Raven, while Armando held a cool demeanor. "Where's your boss?"

He ignored the futile attempts of the man to place fear into his heart. Mainly because he wasn't scared, but also because he needed to cut out this middleman bullshit. "My boss? Compañero, no body speaks to him without speaking to me first? So, like I said, what are you doing here?" Raven glanced between the two. Although this was a mission they were on, she felt she was getting a glimpse of the man Armando used to be. She couldn't lie and say it wasn't turning her the fuck on. The arrogant confidence and dominance radiating off him cause butterflies to form in her belly as she thought of the night before.

"Tengo algunos asuntos que tengo que discutir con él. Así que, de nuevo, ¿dónde está el hombre a cargo?" Armando replied, nonchalantly. As he discovered in the car, Raven was very fluent in Spanish much to his surprise, so he knew she was well aware of what was happening. "The man in charge huh? Well right now, I'm the man in charge. Ain't that right, sweetheart." He took this time to finally acknowledge Raven, winking at her. "Why don't you come over here with me, huh?" he continued with a lick of his lips. And while, Armando was very much playing a role of a man who wouldn't stand for that.

He, himself, also wouldn't stand for the disrespect of this woman. Of his woman. "Yo, didn't I tell you last night to match your words with her." Armando stood up straight. Reaching behind himself to quickly brandish his two toned baretta. This of course, cause the entire crowd to get on the defense. The goons around them also drew their guns, waiting for who she could only assume to be their underboss to say the word and they'd be Swiss fucking cheese.

In this moment, she hoped the rest of the team was making their way to rescue them in this moment as Armando placed the gun underneath the sleaze balls chin. "Apologize to her." He gritted through clenched teeth. For once, the man showed a bit of bravado. Not apologizing, but instead offering a challenge. "Odio a los gilipollas como tú, solo que duros con una pistola."

In this moment, Raven knew he was either this brave to safe face in front of his crew or because he knew they were outnumbered. "Oh?" Armando laughed. "So, you think this gun is what makes me so tough?" With the firearm still pointed underneath his chin, the sleaze ball stood firm in his stance that Armando wouldn't be so tough without it. Raven watched as he laughed, pulling the gun away and holding it out to her. "Hold this, baby." He stated without even turning his head to look at her.

Without uttering a word, she took the gun from him, watching as he sent a fist flying straight into the male's nose.

Fuck!

𝚃𝚁𝙰𝙽𝚂𝙻𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽

Compañero - "Buddy."

Tengo algunos asuntos que tengo que discutir con él. Así que, de nuevo, ¿dónde está el hombre a cargo? - "I have some business that I need to discuss with him. So, again, where's the man in charge?"

Odio a los gilipollas como tú, solo que duros con una pistola. - "I hate assholes like you. Only tough with a gun."

credit for Armando picture to @yeahnohoneybye

[rainybubbles]

How do COD men confess to you ?

Ghost, Soap, Price, Gaz, Alejandro

If you want more context here the part 1, and 2

G H O S T :

-At the end of your shift, he was waiting for you.

-And Max.

-Because Max was a cute puppy who stole his heart, but he would never tell a soul.

So yeah every day he wasn't on mission. He knew that at 10 pm, he will be at this little pet shop.

-Because he loved how your smile was appearing when you recognized him.

-He loved how you still joked about the ropes he bought or even how when he walked you back home, you were trying to go out of your way to make this walk longer by taking him to the little restaurant.

-This little restaurant, that you chose on purpose, because it has 4 fire escapes, and a perfect view on the outside.

-You knew him.

-And you didn't step back.

-Well in fact you didn't step back when he was just a creepy man who bought ropes at 3 AM, so he -sincerely doubts about your survival instinct.

-So yeah...

-But how did he confess, you're asking me ?

-Well, he didn't.

-Ghost has too many issues to open his heart like this.

-So you decided to make a moove.

-A classic move with a little declaration and a gift.

-Yeah.

.

.

.

-So you bought rope.

-Yeah.

-I know this doesn't sound good.

-It sounds even like the beginning of a horror story but wait.

-You decided to send him a package.

-And in this package you will put a rope tied in a heart form with a letter.

-Telling he took you heart in hostage and you would like him to keep it.

-...

-Seems weird, but it kinda fit your meeting, so it seems like a cute idea.

-Until three months passed and you had no news.

-Not even a letter.

-You didn't panic because sometimes his job was like this, he told you.

-But the problem was you had to move out.

-And even if he had your number, Ghost changed his phone regularly to prevent from some undercover shit.

-Besides your job at the pet shop, he couldn't contact you.

-So you tried to ignore your removal.

-But at the end of the fourth month, you had to admit this relationship will never had an end.

-And you mooved out of the country.

-A bittersweet ending.

-You felt like you were reading a fluff story but forgot to read the tag "hurt/no comfort".

-Shit.

-Maybe next time you should read the tag of your fucking love life.

-Like "a rope man will steal your heart" "angst" "sad ending" "slow burn" "fucking weird story" "not a happy fidelity card guy" "maybe he was into bondage but guess what ? We will never know lol"

-Maybe you were crying when you saw a rope in a DIY shop after this.

-Or not.

-Your dignity and ego will never recover from this memory. (neither did the sales assistant who was just here trying to help you)

-So you tried watching around, maybe the destiny would help you.

-Maybe a tall masked man will appear at your door at 2 PM, under the rain saying he has always loved you and....

-And you don't open the door for your own mom because you're too scared that she could be someone pretending she's your mom so you hoped he wouldn't do this.

-Yet two months after your removal, you had a call from your previous boss.

-You usually avoid calls, but you knew he wouldn't call you if it wasn't important.

-So you answered and...

-He was telling you a package with your name was delivered to him.

-And when you asked what was in it.

-He answered.

-"A fidelity card for rope, with a yes on it."

-You never smiled that hard.

-(Ghost found your new contacts thanks to Lasswell later, to confirm you both confessed to each other.)

S O A P :

-You had kept in touch.

-Through letters and some texts, when Soap was allowed to send them, you started to have a great friendship.

-But lately in the memes that Soap sent to you, you found a lot of references to the French girls in general.

-Firstly you didn't pay attention.

-Until that night.

-When you saw Titanic again with your parents.

-And it clicked.

-The French girls scene !

-By you stopped.

-Why would Soap make implicit reference to this ?

-Then again you remembered his drawings.

-He sent you some of them in his letters.

-When you get back to your home, you gathered them, looking if maybe he had made a portrait of you or had made a joke that you didn't see.

-But it was just random sketches.

-You stared at Ghost sketch eating an ice cream when you noticed something on his mask.

-He had a "W" on it.

-You searched through the sketches and...

-"U to the mow, I go you will" you said out loud after collecting the letters and tried to figure out what he wanted to say.

-And you tried to understand it.

-But except this fucking "mow" and "will"

-You didn't find any coherence in it.

-Did he want to ask you to mow his lawn in his garden ?

-But he didn't have a garden.

-And why a "U" and then a "You".

-Why, why Soap would even do this ?

-He was not the kinda guy that do this.

-"...I think I'm too stupid to find out this shit." you admitted.

-Well maybe your French girls scenes will not be romantic.

-So you texted him saying, you understood he sent you a message.

-But you didn't find how to translate it.

-And he texted you the answer.

-"Will you go out with me ?"

-...

-"Did Price give you the idea Soap ?" you answered.

-"Wait, you didn't answer."

-"Did Price give you the idea ?"

-"You think I couldn't be a romantic, love ?"

-"I think we're both too stupid to create a thing like this, love."

-"... it was L.T"

-"he...Ghost ?"

-"Yes."

-"...did he love titanic ?"

-"he had a collection about it."

-"...wow."

-"yeah."

-"To answer, yes, I would love too. But never ask again advice from Ghost, I don't want to end on an iceberg."

-"Yes, love."

P R I C E :

-Soap and Gaz with a broken arm led to your confession.

-They were both drunk and knew their captain had a thing for you, and it was reciprocated.

-Especially after Price offered you some chocolates to make clear he was interested in you.

-But nothing was happening.

-So with some scotch, and very bad ideas, Gaz and Soap decided that their time to shine had coming.

-They were the Cupids of the base.

-And what had Cupid ?

-Wings.

-If they used their wings to bring you from your office to Price at the bar, then he would be happy and more relaxed in this context, and maybe he will confess.

-Yes.

-Except.

-They didn't have wings.

-So when they jumped out from the roof.

-Their arms broke.

-And who was the doctor at the base ?

-You.

-You didn't go out because you were busy to treat their arms.

-"Maybe we need some bows next time." Soap whispered but it was more like he shouted in Gaz's ears.

-"And some white underwears! Cupid has that. I'm sure if we wore this, it will work for sure." Gaz answered.

-"And what about not jumping from the roof and not drinking that much, hmm ?" you asked.

-"Sssshhhh, we're in a confession plan right now. You can't stop us." Gaz said trying to put his finger on your mouth but ended up to do it on the wall next to you.

-"I'm calling Price to take you back to your bed, you're both too heavy for me."

-"We could walk."

-"It's not walking the problem Soap. It's where you could go."

-"hmm."

-So you called Price.

-The problem was he asked you why.

-Why did the boys jump out from the roof ?

-You blinked.

-He would know when he would come here.

-So you decided to gather some courage and-

-"They try to make us confess by bringing me to the bar with you. But they believe they were angels and could fly."

-The silence was so loud.

-He hung up.

-You sighed.

-Well at least, you said it.

-You didn't expect a yes, but at least an answer would be the minimum.

-When later, you heard a knock, you didn't make the effort to look up.

-You heard Price taking the boys to their beds and the door closing.

-But few minutes later, you heard a knock.

-Surprised, you stood up.

-Maybe someone else has drunk too much and-

-"John." You said surprised.

-"I intend to ask you out with some roses, and tomorrow but I guess two drunk soldiers with broken arms beat me."

-"The experienced strategist beat up ?" you joked.

-"I guess so. I'm sorry it was done like this, love."

-"I don't care honestly. As long as it's you asking me."

-He smiled and took your hand slowly.

-"Well, I can't wait for our first date, then."

-"'Hope Soap and Gaz will not be there."

-He laughed.

-"I can't promise that." he smiled.

G A Z :

-A meme.

-He sent you a meme.

-To confess.

-But you never answered him.

-And when he saw you, you never talked about it.

-So...he understood he was rejected.

-And he was okay with that, hell it was normal.

-He just thought it was reciprocated because you had what seems like dates with him.

-Maybe he mixed up signals.

-So he just never talked about it again, because he didn't want to make you feel awkward.

-But one day during lunch, he heard Soap talking with you.

-"So you got a new one, uh ?" Soap asked.

-"I didn't have the choice. His ass fucking destroyed the previous one."

-Gaz stared at the floor.

-He didn't know you had someone.

-Maybe that was because you never-

-"L.T has a cake, that's for sure." Soap joked.

-Gaz suffocated.

-You-

-And Ghost-

-And Ghost's ass-

-"That's not funny Soap. He fucking destroyed my phone just by sitting on it. It's not a cake. It's a fucking breeze block at this point."

-Your...

-Oh.

-oh.

-FUCK.

-He realized.

-You didn't ignore him.

-You hadn't see his message.

-"How does it happen ?" he asked to be sure of his conclusion.

-"I just let my phone on a bench, and he sat without looking, that's it. But because his ass is apparently more solid that my relationship with my father, or even the fucking Vivelle dop gel, he broke it."

-"Fuckin' hell". Gaz said

-"You can say that again. Why are you asking, by the way ?"

-"I sent you a text and you never answer, so I was wondering why."

-"Now you know. But I will answer, I manage to transfer my data and texts on my new phone."

-Gaz didn't feel well now.

-Soap was here.

-And your phone in your hand.

-Meaning he will see your reaction in live and with a public.

-Like he was on the set of a TV show. But here he could gain your heart and not $100,000.

-But you didn't say anything, neither did open it.

-You just sit and talked with him and Soap like it was not important.

-Because of course you couldn't know what was his text.

-So he waited.

-All the day, for you to open this fucking meme.

-To see it.

-And at midnight.

-He received a Mister Worlwide saying yes.

-Never he was so happy to see this bald head

A L E J A N D R O :

-He had everything planned.

-The moment, the place.

-It was going to be a big thing.

-He talked Rudy about it and even the 1-4-1 during a mission.

-Because Soap teased him about you.

-So he explained how he was going to ask you out and-

-Laswell stopped him.

-Their communications were not over.

-She heard everything

-And when Laswell ordered you to tell the location to Price

-He understood you were on their mission as a technician, and you heard all of it.

-The only thing that could kill Alejandro is Alejandro after all, right ?

-Even when it was dying of embarrassment.

-He mumbled some insults in Spanish and tried to hold his head high.

-He had everything planned, and just a microphone ruined this ?

-No,no, no, no he refused.

-He met you because of those mics, how they dare to betray him like that ?

-He ignored this and finished the mission.

-But on the way back, he heard your voice.

-"Good job guys. By the way I would love going on a date with you, Ale. If you needed to know after...this."

-You know the smile he did, when they interrogate Valeria ?

-It was one hundred brighter right now in the car.

-Soap even wore sunglasses to protect his eyes.

-Alejandro was so fucking happy.

-Maybe he did not hate the mics.

-Even though he's persuaded that someone hacked them this particular day.

___

If you want more : here.

I'm sorry that it took so long to post this part, but when I posted another COD about how you meet Farah, Alex and Konig I had a comment saying it was shit.

And I know my English sucks, so I deleted it and hesitated to write again..

Maybe I need some readers to help me, or maybe this comment was just hateful, I don't know.

In any case, sorry for the mistakes, English is not my first language !

[saturnine-saturneight]

OC Questionnaire Tag

Tagged by @gioiaalbanoart [here], @the-golden-comet [here] [here] and [here], @rotting-moon-writes [here] and probably more that I'm missing! I am not on top of my activity tab. At all.

My questions:

What would you do if your enemy asked for help?

Would you ask your enemy for help?

Do you act on impulse, or do you think before you act?

What is your happiest memory?

What do you wish to achieve?

How far will you go to reach your goals?

What never fails to make you laugh?

How can you tell if you’ll get along with someone?

Do you prefer sweet, savory, sour, or salty snacks?

What was your favorite childhood toy?

What has been your worst injury?

Where do you go when you need to think?

Doing this for Nat and Ron.

1. What would you do if your enemy asked for help?

Nat: "Laugh in their face about it. Or - wait, no. How exploitable is the situation, exactly?"

Ron: "Question the fuck out of the whole thing. I mean, probably a trap, right? But if they're sincere, I dunno. Depends on the enemy? I'm trying to come up with people I'd actually consider that and I'm kinda coming up empty, though."

2. Would you ask your enemy for help?

Nat: "Not over my dead body. I solve my own goddamn problems, I don't need that kind of help."

Ron: "Is this a hypothetical where they're, like, the only person who can help me? Then yeah dude, probably. I'd have to figure out what they could want from me in return that I can give without getting tangled in anything."

3. Do you act on impulse, or do you think before you act?

Nat: "I think before I act, of course. I'm a creature of intellect. I plan." [They don't.]

Ron: "Way more often on impulse than I'd like, that's for sure." [He's also wrong about this.]

4. What is your happiest memory?

Nat: "I'll pass on this question. Those memories are mine, thank you very much." [They're thinking hard, but they're coming up empty.] "Oh. Being picked out by Bishop. But you can see how that went for me."

Ron: "I dunno, nothing really sticks out. I like the days best where nothing happens and we're just hanging out. With most of the rest of the happy memories, they usually involve escaping by the skin of my goddamn teeth from something and being happy I get to live another day, lol." [Please don't say lol out loud, Ron.] "Man, that night that we decided to hit the bricks and run away together was really cool, though. Just the three of us, right? Me, Teo, and - y'know." [He rubs the back of his neck.]

5. What do you wish to achieve?

Nat: "I just need to make one good contribution to the field of blood flowers. I need to leave my mark before I die, and if that doesn't work out, then I need somebody to take my field notes and publish them for me posthumously."

Ron: "I don't know, man. I don't think I'm living the kind of life where you achieve shit! More of an accomplishing kind of deal, you know? Let me use that in a sentence: Nat and me are accomplishes in crime :P"

Nat: "That was terrible."

Ron: "You don't fucking appreciate me."

6. How far will you go to reach your goals?

Nat: "Don't ask me that. You aren't going to like the answer."

Ron: "Depends on the goal? I like ferretting out solutions to shit, but I'm not super keen on putting myself in danger."

7. What never fails to make you laugh?

Nat: "Someone tripping over something. Gets me every time."

Ron: "People-watching and talking shit with Nat."

8. How can you tell if you'll get along with someone?

Nat: "When that somebody isn't incredibly useless, I will generally be fine with them." [Nat doesn't get along with other people in general.]

Ron: "If they're not immediately trying to kill me?" [Even then he'll consider it.]

9. Do you prefer sweet, savory, sour, or salty snacks?

Nat: "I don't snack an awful lot. When I do, it's usually salty, though. I drink more water than the average person, so I need to mind my salt intake."

Ron: "Sour all the way, fuck yeah. You know those super long rolled up candy snake things with the fizzy powder? Those are the shit."

10. What was your favorite childhood toy?

Nat: "Ugh, I'm not sure. A doll, probably? Who gives a damn." [Nat doesn't remember the majority of their childhood.]

Ron: "Stones? We used to play with stones a lot. You know, skipping them, doing board games on the ground, stuff like that."

11. What has been your worst injury?

Nat: "Getting the entirety of my shoulder degloved, I would say. Does the word degloving apply to body parts that aren't hands? If it doesn't, then it should."

Ron: "The eye thing." [Which he doesn't want to talk about.]

12. Where do you go when you need to think?

Nat: "Into my field notebook or my notes app on my phone, generally. I like to write things out and see how I feel."

Ron: "Rooftops? Road trips too. Somewhere quiet."

Bonus questions for you:

If you had to pick an item of clothing or an accessory to wear for the rest of your life, what would it be?

If you were forced to forget one memory, what would you choose?

What is a positive thing your worst enemy would say about you?

(Re)Tagging gently:

@paeliae-occasionally @rotting-moon-writes @marlowethelibrarian @tragedycoded @noblebs

@writingrosesonneptune @davycoquette @the-golden-comet @gioiaalbanoart @chauceryfairytales + open

Feel free to do any of these, none of these, whatever you like.

[loadedberetta]

the CoD boys react - !SO Reader being pregnant

rating: M

warning/content: general pregnancy stuff; description of pregnancy pain and birth; fluff; female Reader

[series with random headcanons about specific situations involving the reader and how CoD characters would react to them; mostly the 141, but Alejandro and Rudy, Laswell, Farah, König, and others will make appearances too]

other parts: [tattoo] [knife tricks] [drawing] [coming soon]

find me on ao3 // MASTERLIST

Ghost

"you're not doing [blank] alone."

will fight God if that's what it takes; let it be the groceries or ordering a new couch

found out by sheer intuition; you were bummed that you didn't get to do a little surprise but he assured you that the news made him the happiest man alive and you sincerely believed him;

how exactly? that man knows his shit; you being groggy in the morning? not taking a sip of his beer when watching telly at night? he's got it figured out

doesn't really know how to prep but is too shy to ask you anything so you just find him passed out on the couch every now and then with his laptop glowing at him with "how to build a crib" or "baby sign language" when you can't even tell the baby's gender yet

it took you a week to convince him that you indeed can go to the bathroom alone

tries the more laid-back cravings and doesn't like them; never forgets to ask you about the latest one when you're grocery shopping

is occupied when you go and check for the gender of the baby; you call him from the parking lot with the news; you don't often hear Simon cry but he did that day

calls the baby bug and bezzie, mumbling at your stomach

looks up how to relieve pain with that tummy-lifting technique when your bump grows larger and larger

holds your hand and remains grounded for the entirety of the birth

becomes a very shallow sleeper; the baby stirs and he's at their feet looking over their tiny little body for any sign of distress

Soap

"it's mine, right?"

will go to the ends of the world to get you a pregnancy pillow, but only in the color he likes too

found out on accident; you didn't mind. he came into the bathroom to brush his teeth one morning and found you slouched by the wall, tears of joy in your eyes

insists on picking clothes super early on and revives any old contact of his to get a special baby carrier or a bottle boiler he heard about once

will not shut up about it

tries every single one of your cravings and actually ends up liking some of them

gender reveal party

laddie or lassie depending on the baby's gender, accompanied by approx. 400,000 kisses to your belly daily

gets you all kinds of tape for your growing belly and applies them himself

almost faints during the birth but can't stay away from you

the first time you wake up the next time after your well-deserved rest, he's talking to a nurse while gently cradling the baby; he's a dream dad, who seems to take on the role immediately

Gaz

"what's this… you have to be fucking kidding me this is the best fucking day of my life, babe. can the baby hear me? shit. shit. uhhhh--"

you planned a little party and hid the test in a box to surprise him; it went perfectly, everyone cried

absolutely showers you with stuff he noticed on a shelf at a store that the baby wouldn't likely use until 12 or even 24 months old

"thought you'd like it" is the new most popular word in the household

you get don't touch a single piece of cleaning equipment or dirty dish in the house for nine months

you could get used to this

tries spicing up your cravings; plating them nicely or adding something new

never shuts up about how he used to babysit and will therefore make a good dad

"I just want a happy healthy baby the gender matters the least" he kisses you on your forehead as you open the envelope containing the papers on the couch

tells the baby about the happy family they'll be born into and sometimes mumbles names at your belly as if testing which one fits them best; he looks up at you for approval each time

goes with you to pregnant yoga classes to see how he can help you practice with you at home when the baby in your tummy grows bigger

cries with you during birth

his hand is always by the side of the crib in the hospital

Price

"wh- you? c'mere, love. really?"

touches touches and more touches, is glued to your side from the day he finds out; you're not allowed to lift anything

is very self-conscious about everything; helps out wherever he can, you have to put him down each time

you get into arguments about this but he always downplays it with a little teasing that always eases the mood and you can't help but adore the stressful old man he is

tries to quit smoking but he only resettles on the balcony/porch/out-the-window technique; even more so when you're in his proximity

keeps notes of all your cravings

becomes a fridge organizer and buys healthy food only

talks to the baby so much calls your stomach the most adorable names ever

asks you not to find out the gender of the baby until birth

expert massage therapist for when your belly becomes too heavy; pressure points you name it he knows how to relieve pain

his one hand is getting shattered in your fist, and his other is smoothing over your hair constantly during birth

a little afraid to hold the baby on his own at first, but gradually warms up to the idea, and bath time becomes his favorite

Alejandro

"mi corazón, we get to be parents?! I love you so much, I--"

his mother knew first and lead him to guess for himself while you were out of earshot in another room; he came in and swooped you up to pepper kisses all over you

your phone bill is through the roof: he calls up every abuela and uncle he can for tips, even sits down with his baby nieces and nephews to ask them what they like for breakfast and stuff

sings to your stomach in his low baritone

gets the baby a little golden necklace; it's a gift in the family

you inherit SO MANY kids' clothes; you feel like you never have to buy a piece of diaper again; nor a blanket

you go through a list of old wives' tales about finding out the gender, but you end up waiting until the birth

will try to home-cook all your cravings: make pickles or banana ice cream from scratch

tries (and succeeds) to remedy your pregnancy pains; herbs, physio, he's got it all

he knows what he's doing or he's just a natural; birth never seemed so quick and easy with him by your side

you catch him the first time humming to the baby in the hospital, while gently rocking the little one

Rudy

"you missed your period. wait, you missed your period?? test, test now, mi alma"

he ushers you in the bathroom and waits outside on the bed, thrumming his fingers against the soft bedding

is the happiest fucking thing when you let him in and he notices a faint crossing line on the test immediately

get ready for nine months of non-ending praise

has a new nickname for the baby every day

plays music to your bump nonstop

loves, I mean LOVES pregnant you; every inch of your body, your plump breasts, your growing tummy, the stretch marks on your skin, name it he's a sucker for it

the two of you go to the doctor together to find out the baby's gender and he's already crying in the parking lot before you go in

looks up non-spicy/pregnancy-safe versions of everyday dishes and makes them for you no questions asked

ends up inheriting your pregnancy pillow after you give birth, and takes it to the base for when he has to sleep without you; seriously, it smells like pregnant you what could be better

he talks you through the birth, his voice is calm and grounding

talks to the baby in a hushed voice whenever he can; smiles at you every time the little one makes a face during

König

"are you sure?"

you sat him down and told him plainly the moment he came home from deployment; he laugh-cries and hugs you for hours on end after

if you thought he was the biggest cuddlebug-snugglebear already, you're deeply mistaken

talks to your stomach in German; gives the baby 2-3 little nicknames you can't quite catch

will not leave you alone; becomes a bigger, more deadly baby

when I tell you he's protective--

pretends to like the taste of your cravings; he truly likes the fact that he can make you happy with a jar of pickles he got from the local farmers' market

little trinkets for the win; binkie-shaped keychain, baby spoon with Biene Maya on it…

waits for you to tell him the baby's gender

more stressed than you during the birth; manages to hide it

settles on one of the nicknames he already tried and calls the baby that; also afraid to hold the little one because according to him the baby would get lost in his arms

[partyanimal167]

The Hot Neighbor- Zoro x F!Readee

I saw this art on tiktok and kept enjoying this little idea in my head. It's pretty simple and cutesy.

CW: fluff, suggestive, modern au

You really didn't believe someone could be so dense. But then again, this was working in your favor.

Your neighbor was not like what you expected to be when you first moved into your new apartment.

You had just finished moving the last box inside and was sipping your water in the Sun by the moving truck. It was a nice summer day, and you wanted to enjoy the weather before you went inside and hyperfixated on unpacking.

You looked up to see one of the most gorgeous men you've ever seen.

Sweat dripped down his face and some of his green hair was slick on his skin. He was totally sweating through his green hoodie, and you wondered what type of workout he was doing. His gray sweatpants slightly hung low on his hips, so there was a peek of skin you could see. You caught yourself eyeing the man and blushed when you two made eye contact. He nodded in your direction as he passed by and you weakly returned the gesture. If that was what you got see every now and then, you definitely chose the right place.

...

The next time you see the man was when you heard someone roughly jiggling your door handle as if they were going to break it.

You cautiously approached your front door with a skillet in your nondominant hand. You peeked into the peephole and was surprised to see the handsome man looking annoyed.

"Oi Luffy! Let me in!"

You were confused but seemed to understand there was some type of misunderstanding here. You opened the door a bit and stepped to the side. "Uh, I think you might have the wrong apartment."

For a moment, there was a surprised look on his face before he grumbled. "Shit, not again." He apologized sincerely and even though you had no idea how someone doesn't know where they live, he seemed nice. You exchanged names and goodbyes. You giggled mentally as your eyes lowered, watching him walk away. Let, right, left, right.

~~~

Zoro turned out to be a unique character who you got to know more through him randomly popping at your door and seeing him on his daily runs. You still had no idea which apartment was his, but you assumed he was at least in the same building as you.

There were times when he lost his key and his roommate wasn't home, so he did end up at your place purposefully to hang out. His company was pleasant, and you two typically watched a show while drinking.

After months, you figured he was going to catch onto you ogling him, but if he did, he never said anything. You knew there were some things that weren't really important to him, so you felt fine enjoying the eye-candy.

It was another tv night, so you had gone to the kitchen to grab your favorite snacks. As you grabbed a bowl, you heard a muttered cuss from you companion. You continued on getting ready and turned to leave.

You froze right in your tracks.

You always wondered what muscles were sculpted and hiding under his clothes, and for whatever reason, they were right in your view as Zoro leaned both arms on the wall as he blocked the exit. He looked down at you lazily.

"Oi y/n, I spilled my drink. Got anything I could wear?"

You brain was short-circuiting as you stared blankly at his chest and how big he seemed taking up all that space. You heard his question, but other more inappropriate thoughts were flooding your mind. You took a deep breath and smiled innocently. "Oh yeah, uh, sure." you took a step forward, but Zoro didn't move at all. "What is it?"

Zoro grinned at you before moving aside. "Nothing." You walked passed him and couldn't help feeling his gaze on you.

You rushed to place the snacks on the coffee table before going to your room hoping to find something that would fit the man. You were trying to stop your mind from going absolutely feral. There was something mischievous in Zoro's glance that you hadn't seen before. Your face warmed as you finally pulled out a large sweatshirt. You turned just as Zoro arrived in your doorway--taking up space again. You handed him the shirt.

"Din't think you'd have anything in my size."

You shrugged. "It belonged to my ex. Still might be a little snug." Zoro as halfway through putting the shirt on before he reversed it and tossed it on your bed. "Hey! What's wrong?"

"Tch, I'm not wearing anything your shitty ex wore." Zoro grunted.

You rolled your eyes. "What else are you going to wear? Besides, I'm over them. It's whatever."

"I rather stay like this."

You looked at him blankly then at his chest and up again. "Absolutely not."

"Why not?" He grumbled.

~~~

Seriously, how dense could this guy be? You shook your head and pointed at the shirt. "Now." You enjoyed as the man reluctantly clothed himself and how the shirt clung like a second skin--big chest rising and falling dramatically with each breath. "Okay let's finish our show."

You walked passed him and squealed as Zoro pulled you against his back and rested his head on your shoulder. He chuckled as he gently held your hips. "How about you let me take this off, so you can really check out the merchandise."

Thanks for reading!

[codyjey]

So, we're really still on this whole, "Roman is abuser, he abused his cousins" train, huh? You know, I'm really trying my best not to make this a racial issue, but a lot of you have been telling on yourselves and showing your true colors quite a lot ever since all this stuff with Cody and The Rock has gone down. Because I never white wrestlers who have played heel and whose characters have done way worse than what Roman has done get this level of criticism. Everyone gives them a pass. But I guess because Roman isn't a white man, that's why he doesn't get one and why everyone just loves to shit on him in general. I really just can't with people anymore.

okay first of all, where did I ever mention that he *abused" them in my post? second of all, sure there's a really bad racism problem in the wrestling fan base, just like there is in every fanbase but I don't think this is one of those cases. It's a storyline. there are other storylines where it was "abusive" relationships. (I put abusive in quotes because it's more manipultive than anything) . he was constantly convincing both Jimmy and jey to do whatever he wanted, and he still does that with solo and Jimmy! like if you have fucking eyes you would see thats just how the storyline is! it's manipulation, not abuse and I could agree that we need to be careful throwing around the word abuse in any context, fictional or not. and yes, wrestling has a racism problem but imo, this is not one of the problems. it's just people anylazing their storyline. I don't have any malicious intent with my words, and I sincerely hope anyone who does have bad intention when talking about this storyline gets mental fucking help and gets the hell away from me and everyone else. thanks.

[tinyjordan]

so I actually finally finished my first playthrough of bg3 last night (except it was actually this morning because I beat the final boss at like 3 am) and I just wanted to share my experience. obviously there will be spoilers

so yes. it did take me like 2 months to finish the game, a lot longer than the average player. this was mostly because I was just really busy with school and shit and I've been playing on my parents tv, so I obviously didn't get too much time to myself to binge the game. but honestly, when I did get time to play through the game, I was honestly so overjoyed to just explore the world and do quests with my silly little guys.

imo my favorite act in the game is the first act, which from what I read, many people agree with me on this sentiment. that doesn't mean that I think that the other two acts weren't great, but I just think that act 1 had something special going on there. i loved how huge the first act was and just how much I could do in this act. i thought I finished this act having completed every quest (except those in the mountain pass because I didn't know that I could just go through both paths, which I don't know how I came to that conclusion in hindsight) but when reading and watching videos about bg3, I learned that there was a ton of stuff that I missed. I can't wait for my second playthrough (which will probably be my durge run) to experience more that I missed.

i don't know where to put this point in this essay thing, but the party after defeating the goblin camp. love it! this is where fanfictions are born. although you don't really get much when romancing gale in this party except the fact that he proclaims that he likes your stank in the most socially awkward but well meaning way. i thought this was funny.

oh yeah! also Lae'zel tried to have sex with me. we didn't, but I thought I might as well share that.

speaking of Lae'zel: the most underrated character in the game. i don't care. she is extremely wholesome despite our first introduction to her. in my playthrough, she was the one that got kidnapped by orin in act three. when I rescued her from orin, she was extremely sweet and thankful about it. she said something about the githyanki language not having a word for "thank you", and she tells the player the closest thing to it in her language. but even then she thought that wasn't a good enough way to express gratitude, so she said "thank you, sincerely." she's not my favorite companion, but my heart did swell in this moment

speaking of favorite companions-

astarion

ASTARION

yes I know that everyone reading this probably heard this a million times, but Astarion is such an amazing and well written character. this man is blorbo himself. i want to be his best friend. during my playthrough, my tav and Astarion had a sort of sibling like relationship: being on near opposite sides of the character archetype spectrum and disagreeing on a lot of things, but also being super protective over each other (we dislike Araj in this house). his whole story arc made me want to cry several times. i wish this game had a hug option for every companion so that I could hug everyone, ESPECIALLY Astarion. omg. OMG. when we defeated Cazador and Astarion stabbed him repeatedly, i cheered. i got him to not ascend and I cheered. like Karlach (who i also love and got me the closest to actually crying), i was so fucking proud of Astarion. i could talk about him all day but I think I would just stop there and resort to reblogging post about him for my own sanity.

when thinking of my opinion on Shadowheart, I remember that I didn't like her at all at first. it didn't help that she was racist against the githyanki. but after act 2 and pretty much always having her in my party as the main healer, she REALLY grew on me as a character. imo, I think she has one of the best character arcs and she really meshes well with the other companions. she's not a comic relief character at all, but every joke and sarcastic comment she makes is always a banger. she's my Tav's official best friend. also her act three glow up. that is all

oh also during Shadowheart's quest in act three, I met Viconia DeVir (who i killed) and I laughed my ass off because I ended up naming my Tav Viconia who when playing as her, she was like the EXACT opposite of the evil cult leader. there was definitely a "there can only be one" moment when killing her

I also feel that Wyll is pretty underrated character, which is disappointing since he is actually super interesting as a character. I mean he made a deal with a devil. like. c'mon. now I did sometimes get annoyed with his whole being a hero schtick, but also he's like the most sane character companion imo. i felt bad about him sulking alone at the after goblin killing party and I was tempted to ask him to dance to maybe cheer him up, but I also knew that this would probably lead to a romance with him, which I didn't really want. so I just let him be. i remember the impossible choice we had to make in act three (save Wyll's dad and sacrifice his freedom, or break the contract Wyll made with Mizora and let his dad die). This was actually a really difficult decision to make because like. it's either your dad or your freedom. it's literally an impossible choice to make. i decided to have Wyll be free of his contract with Mizora because I had hope that we could maybe find a loophole to this whole deal. WHICH THERE WAS. I had to undo a 5 whole hours of progress because of a bug with Duke Ravengard not spawning in the iron throne if you progress too much in the lower city before watching Gortash's coronation (which is entirely my fault for being awful at directions and not understanding very obvious instructions), BUT I DID IT. I saved Wyll's dad and had him free from Mizora's servitude! his friendship with Karlach is also extremely sweet. I love just how nice Wyll is. I think he's neat.

KARLACH! My favorite female companion! I was so excited when I was finally able to give her a hug. she's just so sweet and fun and as i said before she got me the closest to crying while playing the game. she almost made me cry not once, not twice, but THREE whole times. first time was of course when she was finally able to touch people. second was when we killed Gortash and she had a crisis about dying soon. third was when I thought she was actually going to die before Wyll offered that she come with him back avernus to kill all the devils (bless Wyll). she's also the number one funniest character in the game which juxtaposes the fact that she almost made ms cry the most amount of times.

speaking of crying, this game made me want to cry three separate times in one day. i made the mistake of playing through Shadowheart's and Astarion's quest on the same day then proceeding to kill Gortash, which you already know what happens after that.

After playing through the game, I agree that camp dad(dy) is the official term to describe Halsin. I'm not attracted to him in any since, so to me he is just dad, but I do agree with this sentiment. also goddamn he tall

Jaheira is the fun aunt of the group and I love her for that. she's a queen.

Minsc is himbo. I also realized that he always has something to say about everything we do, and I didn't realize that until when I talked to him one time and he was speaking of something we did like three quests ago and I had to keep talking to him until he was finally caught up with the current events. it was super hilarious

Also I love Boo! when Minsc introduced me to this space hamster I immediately feel in love with his tiny wittle paw awnd hwis wittle whiskews- also Boo had so much personality and I love him for that.

now. it is time to be down bad. Gale. my beloved. if you have seen the amount of posts and art that I reblog about him, you could probably tell that I am absolutely down bad for this man. I don't know when it started, but holy shit. this man got me kicking my legs and squealing like a little school girl. every romance scene with him got me down bad. he says just the sweetest things and I am on the floor dead from a heart attack. he proposed to me at the end of the game. i was happy :)

other points about Gale: he is super funny. every joke with him is hilarious. Mystra is a bitch. he gives dedicated history professor vibes. his camp outfit looks so comfy. he hates sneaking because his knees hate sneaking. he is best friends with his tressym named Tara, who he summoned NOT because of tressyms being known for being a great familiar, but because he wanted a friend. pleasure domes lol

i guess this is all to say that I love every companion in bg3

i believe I got the best ending (in terms of good or bad endings) in the game, and my hot take is that I actually love the ending of the game! i don't know what other people were talking about when they said it wasn't satisfying. the only critique I can give about the ending is that if you don't romance either Shadowheart or Astarion, you don't really know what happens to them after the events of the game other than they probably have a happy ending. other than that, great ending!

i will say that I do agree with most other people when they say that act 3 is maybe the weakest act in the game. not that it isn't a bad act. i just think it's unnecessary difficult even in explorer difficulty, which I did had to set it to because balanced wasn't cutting it for my smooth brain. i also had difficulty with trying to figure out what to do or where to go for a huge chunk of the act. and if it wasn't for a few helpful guides, I might have accidentally skipped a huge chunk of the quests and gotten a worse ending for a lot of my companions. also yeah. act 3 is extremely buggy. not unplayable buggy, but it did cause a lot of problems with my playthrough including me having to redo 5 hours of progress because of a bug

also fighting the githyanki at any point in the game starting from the end of act 2 is an absolute nightmare. how are a group of githyanki monks a more difficult fight than the literal god of death?

speaking of death, i love the dead three. i think they are amazing antagonists. my favorite with being Thorm. he is just so intimidating and he gave an amazing first impression. it helps that he is voiced by J.K. Simmons.

OH AND RAPHAEL! he is so theatre kid evil and that is amazing! best fight theme in the game. i saved the song on my Spotify before I even got to his fight because I heard it for the first time when I was kind of watching my brother play and I fell in love with the song.

i wish there was more to do in act 2, but in terms of story, it is extremely strong and the act is extremely spooky, which I love. i got scarred for life in the house of healing. though I think the biggest strength with act 2 is Shadowheart. she stole the show in act 2.

also Gale's act 2 romance scene hehe <3

Scratch best boy

Owl bear cub so adorable

oh! also when exploring the szarr palace, I found an owl bear plush and I immediately wanted it to be real. i immediately stole it because it is the best thing ever

i love this game so much! there is so much more I want to speak about, but then this would turn into a novel if I mentioned everything. I might make a post about my Tav later on, but that's for later. i already made a google doc about her profile, but there is so much more that I want to discuss about her outside that doc, so...maybe I can share the doc whenever and maybe let people send asks about the character and I can discuss more in detail stuff that wasn't mentioned

I'm probably gonna take a short break from playing bg3 since I still just want to think about the finale and I spent maybe 80 hours of gameplay on this one run (i say this one run because I have been playing a bit with my brother and friend)

afterwards I want to do a redeemed dark urge run. i might romance Astarion not because I see him in a romantic light, but because I really ship him with the durge thanks to all of the art I have seen

tldr; bg3 is amazing

[nflstreetsanimereviews]

Bocchi the Rock! Review

What was your favorite anime of the Fall 2022 season? If I had to bet, it was the highly anticipated Chainsaw Man. It was the most hyped anime of the year after all. It even had me, someone who usually doesn't watch or read shounen, keeping up with it. And as expected, it was a pretty good adaptation. Was it my favorite anime of the season though? I would have probably said yes if Bocchi the Rock! wasn't airing that season too. I'll stop with the comparisons here, since most people reading this already have read and/or watched CSM, and the two are apples and oranges, if the apple phased out of existence if you said its name too loud and the orange made you shit your pants after two bites. Anyways--who is Bocchi? And why does she rock?

Bocchi the Rock! is about Hitori Gotou, more commonly referred to as 'Bocchi', a high school girl who started learning to play guitar in order to be in a band and become popular. The problem is that, while she has become an excellent guitarist in the four years she has been playing, she has made zero friends during that time. She also hasn't joined a band yet due to her severe social anxiety. Turns out that being good at guitar, while making you look cooler, doesn't automatically net you new friends. In lieu of that, she runs a well-known YouTube channel under the pseudonym 'guitarhero', which she uses to upload her guitar solos. Luckily for our dear Bocchi, her dream of being in a band suddenly becomes true one afternoon, when she meets drummer Ijichi Nijika, who coincidentally is looking for a guitarist for her band.

Rounding out the band (named Kessoku Band) is bassist Ryou Yamada, whose cool and aloof demeanor is counteracted by her always being broke and being a walking rock music encyclopedia, and Ikuyo Kita, vocalist and backing guitarist, who joins the band because of her admiration (and longing) for Ryou. She doesn't actually know how to play the guitar when she joins Kessoku Band, but her willingness to learn combined with her ability to handle the social media side of things makes her a valuable asset to the group.

The four congregate at STARRY, a live house managed by Nijika's older sister, Seika. STARRY operates as a home base for Kessoku Band, with all four members working, practicing, and even sometimes performing there. Other characters of note include PA-san, a mysterious girl who also works at STARRY, and Kikuri Hiroi, an alcoholic bassist who quickly became a fan favorite despite her only appearing in a few episodes.

What made Bocchi the Rock! such a well-received show? The main reason would be the way Bocchi's social anxiety is shown as ridiculous and surreal, while at the same time being relatable and hilarious. I believe the phrase goes like 'She's just like me!'. There are more anime than I can count that have a socially awkward main character, but Bocchi the Rock! is one of the best anime at portraying the main character's introvertedness. Who among us has not at one point mentally melted into a puddle of water over being asked to do a simple task? Watching Bocchi's growth is one of the best parts about the anime.

Bocchi the Rock! has drawn many comparisons to K-On!, with some even considering it K-On!'s spiritual successor. While both anime do have many of the same plot points (slices of life about high-school-aged girls forming a rock band), Bocchi the Rock! is in no way a clone of K-On!. Bocchi the Rock! is nowhere near as 'moe' as K-On!, and contains a lot more conflict, although said conflict generally being low stakes. Kessoku Band has aspirations of becoming big, while it was only a passing thought for Ho-kago Tea Time. That being said, if you enjoyed K-On!, then Bocchi the Rock! is right up your alley (and vice versa!).

The sincerity of Bocchi the Rock! endears it even further, never using cheap fanservice as a cop-out. It isn't afraid to have subversive characters, which is great considering musicians tend to be, well, subversive. The nature of the anime leaves little to be desired. If there's one thing I'd fix, I'd have Nijika call Ryou a broke ass more often. I'd also have Bocchi listen to The Smiths and then have her turn into evaporated water once she finds out how stupid Morrissey can be.

In my opinion, Bocchi the Rock! is as good as the hype says. Is it top ten anime of all time good, as Anilist suggests? I wouldn't go that far. However, Bocchi the Rock! is one of the best SoL anime that I have seen in a long time. It's a good, wholesome story about a girl overcoming social anxiety to show off her guitar skills to the masses and gain fans and, more importantly, friends. While I would love to have a chance to scare the shit out of Bocchi, I'm cheering her on, mostly because I know she's more than likely to be a NEET if the whole 'become a famous guitarist' plan doesn't work.

80/100

[butch-reidentified]

your entire post about your gc mtf friend comes off as you saying that being a rape victim and struggling to say no is what makes this guy more legit. like you think he carries some sort of womanly spirit that the gamestop ma'ams don't. and it's all because he... isn't threatening? likes girly shit? passes more? i used to think this way too about my totes tru trans friend and then i realized how fucking sexist it is to look at a traumatized man who was the victim of csa and bullying for his feminine traits and consider him more "legit" purely because he's been through trauma that's usually visited upon women. and it's like oh, your friend passes really well? that's nice, is he also really emotional and loves cats? is his favorite color pink? please. do you hear yourself? if he's happy being a medically altered hyperfeminine man then more power to him but his ability to pass and affinity for female friends doesn't make him innately anything. & don't even get me started on his chromosome lore lol. i don't follow you so i don't know if you consider yourself detrans or desisted or whatever but you obviously still carry their way of thinking with you. like you need active deprogramming. don't bother typing up a response to this if you don't want to btw, i don't check for responses to my anons.

i sincerely recommend you brush up on reading comprehension tbh. he's NOT hyperfeminine as i discussed (and i made zero mention of bullying, you completely invented that), he's NOT "more legit" or not a man, as i also discussed. you have made assumptions about him & about my thought processes that are incorrect and now you are mad about your assumptions. excellent job. i simply know someone whose experience of sex dysphoria & exceedingly unique unintentional effect on other people is fascinating to me from the perspective of scientific curiosity and wanted to share that. you added the rest in yourself. I discuss things like this often because I'm a nerdy little neuroscience lady who likes to speculate and go down rabbit holes. you inferring weird shit I never said or thought is not my problem. get a grip lmao

tl;dr - none of that is what I said or what the post was about & you're projecting :)

[rindecisions]

Stranger Tales: 15

A poll based Stranger Things fanfiction

Read all of it on AO3

Steve jumped at the sound of Eddie slamming his hands on the bar and watched him walk away. He was impressed by how well Eddie could walk in those heels*.* Steve’s eyes scanned up his slender nylon-clad legs, over the tight leather skirt, and lingered around the dimples on his lower back. In general, he stared at Eddie’s midriff for way too long and was only snapped out of it when his line of sight was cut off by the ‘STAFF ONLY’ sign. Steve rubbed his temples and sighed. He looked at the bottles on the wall behind the bar and stood.

“So?” Robin snickered as Steve approached.

“You were right,” he groaned and sat down across from her, letting his head hit the table.

Robin’s desire to gloat warped into sympathy. “You okay?” she asked tentatively.

“I just can’t get a fucking break,” Steve grumbled.

Robin furrowed her face in condolence.

—

Eddie leaned his back on the door and hit his head against it with a dramatic groan.

“You okay, honey?” Velvet asked sincerely as she walked up to him.

Eddie glanced at her and sighed, pushing himself off the door. “Not really,” he admitted. “You know that guy I've mentioned before?”

“The Harrington boy?” She clarified as they walked to a couple of chairs in the back of the room.

“Yeah, he thought I was a woman and hit on me.”

“He's not the smartest cookie, is he?” she stated plainly.

Eddie laughed lightly. “Not really, no.”

“What did you do?”

“I told him who I was.” Eddie leaned his elbows on his knees and placed his face in his hands. The false eyelashes felt strange on his palms.

“Well, I'm proud of you for that, at least.” She rubbed his back. “Trust me, that's not a lie you want to get tangled in with a straight man.”

“Yeah, I remember your cautionary tale.” He leaned back and spread his legs as far as the skirt would allow.

“You gotta move on from him, honey,” she said sympathetically, tucking some of his hair behind his ear. “Falling for a straight man will only hurt you.”

“Don't you think I've tried, Dennis?” He looked over at her to see a disapproving glare. “Sorry,” he winced.

Velvet shook her head. “I swear, you're the only person I'll let get away with calling me that when I look like this.”

Eddie smirked. “Sorry,” he repeated.

She sighed. “I suppose it's fine.” She pulled him into her chest, which was only padded on the underside. The cleavage was natural from being taped.

Eddie leaned into her. The comfort was nice.

“I've been in your position, Eddie.” She pet his hair. “So, trust me when I say give him up. A sweet boy like you doesn't belong with a womanizer like him, anyway. You deserve someone who will cherish you. And for the love of God, don't ever be someone's experiment, especially if you have feelings. Getting a taste of what you desire most, only for it to be ripped away from you, is far worse than never knowing.”

“We really get the shit stick in life, don't we?” Eddie grumbled as he sat up, wiping his makeup off of Velvet's chest.

“Yeah, there's no denying that. Just be glad you aren't fat, black, and a drag queen on top of it.”

Eddie smirked weakly. “I guess you can consider me the last one, at least.”

“You did it once as a favor. You aren’t a queen. However, if you wanted to continue doing it, I'd be thrilled to have you. The crowd loved your performance.”

“I think I'll pass on that,” he laughed.

“I figured as much.” She glanced over Eddie's face. The sad look in his eyes broke her heart. “I need to introduce the next performer, but when I get back, did you want help getting out of this?” She waved at Eddie's getup.

“Please,” he huffed.

She laughed and pat him on the back before getting up and walking towards the stage. Eddie groaned and ran his hands through his straightened hair. It felt strange and crunchy from the hairspray. He perked when he heard the door open and smiled at the bartender carrying his Long Island Iced Tea.

“You’re my hero!” Eddie exclaimed, getting up.

The bartender shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m serving a fucking minor,” he grumbled.

“Only by like two years,” Eddie said happily as he took the glass. “No one will know, and if anyone asks, I’ll just say I stole it.”

“Whatever.” He rolled his eyes and left.

Eddie took a long drink and shimmied his hips happily. Cocktails were an incredibly rare treat, as low-end beer was about the only thing he could get his hands on. He sighed and sat back down on the folding chair. He could feel himself relaxing even before the buzz hit him.

“Ready to strip, doll?”

Velvet’s voice startled Eddie. “Yeah,” he said as he got up and followed her to the dressing room. “Where’d Gareth and them go?”

“They’re watching the show,” she said simply.

“Ah,” Eddie nodded, setting his drink on the vanity and letting Velvet untie his corset.

—

Steve had returned to sitting next to Robin in order to watch the show. It helped him forget his self-pity. At least it did until Max hopped over.

“So, were you rejected by a man too?” she asked bluntly, with an annoying grin.

Robin cringed.

“No,” Steve growled through grit teeth.

“Oh, sweet! So where are you going?”

Steve hated her sarcastic smile. “I’m not going to ask out a man.”

“Don’t be like that. I see you flopping with women on the regular. Why not branch out?” Her smirk intensified as she leaned her chin on her fists.

Robin clenched her face, trying not to audibly laugh.

Steve pursed his lips. “I’m not interested in men, thanks,” he hissed.

“Have you ever tried?” she pressed.

“Fuck no!” Steve snapped, making Robin wince.

“Then how do you know?”

“I’ve never been attracted to a man.”

Max stared at him flatly. “You literally just hit on one.”

“Because I thought he was a woman! If I’d known he was a man, I wouldn’t have given him a second glance.”

“You sure about that?” Max snickered, looking at a reflection on the window behind Steve.

“Of course,” Steve stated adamantly. He squinted when Max nodded her head to the side. When he glanced over, he saw Eddie walking out of the staff door. Their eyes briefly met, and Steve’s heart punched him before Eddie quickly averted his eyes and sat at a table with three other men.

Max smiled at Steve staring, and leaned back, crossing her arms smugly as she settled into the booth. She and Robin shared a silent laugh. “That’s quite a long second glance you’re giving him,” Max teased.

Steve flinched and shot his attention back to Max, who snorted at his startled deer-in-the-headlights expression. “I was,” Steve gasped. “It wasn’t. It’s not.” He swallowed and took a deep breath. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“’King of Hawkins,’ my ass,” Max laughed. “More like ‘King of Denial.’”

“I-” Steve tugged at the collar of his t-shirt. “I need some air,” he said quickly and ran out the front door.

Robin, Max, and Eddie were the only people that paid any notice to him storming out.

“Was I too much?” Max asked.

“Maybe a little,” Robin cringed.

More fics by Rindecision

[ohsomightypeaches]

"How pretty do I have to ask?" he says, smiling wider than ever.

Oh he knows the power he has. Of course he knows the power he has.

You tell Santiago as much, but he just sits you down on the mattress, ignoring that sentiment entirely with a half distracted, “don’t be ridiculous, that horny freak gets off on you wearing his ugly-looking clothes.”

Ouch. Lol. Two insults in one I see. Actually idk if horny freak was an insult.

"Can't you go get Frankie's Go-Pro camera?"

💀 NOT THE GO PRO THATS WORSE THAN THE PHONE

"Don't you at least have a tripod?"

What kind of a high production value sex tape is he trying to make? 💀💀

It would be childish to roll your eyes, but Santiago-Maria Luca Hernandez Garcia makes it really fucking hard not to sometimes. For someone who's never been able to properly frame himself in a selfie, he sure is high and mighty about his artistic camera skills all of a sudden. He only capitulates when you counter that a sex tape shot on a Go-Pro is a terrible idea. Nobody wants to watch themselves naked through a wide-angle lens.

💀💀💀 I'm cackling at the entire paragraph. I'm glad that Boa and I can agree go pro is a terrible idea

"She's so pretty and wet, Frank," he murmurs, as his fingers spread your wet folds wide for himself.

Will frankie make it through the whole thing. Lol. He might not survive.

And as you think it, you realize that even though he brought up the sex tape as an innocent spur-of-the-moment suggestion, the bastard's thought of this way before Frankie had called to check in today.

I mean that may be but you might as well just give in. It's too late now. Lol

“Not much of a sex tape if we don’t put on a show, sweetheart.”

PLEASE. I CANNOT WITH HIM. what a fucking tease. He's lucky he's pretty.

He's laughing again, no scratch that, giggling, that bright boyish sound that has a kaleidoscope of butterflies skittering in your stomach even though you're mad enough to kill him.

🙄 HE LUCKY HES PRETTY

You won’t, and it’s not just because if you gave in the man’s ego would be large enough to develop its own gravitational pull until it collapsed the very sun itself with it.

Hahahahahahahahahhaha. The accuracy.

“There we go. That’s all I wanted. All you needed to do is ask, sweetheart."

🙄 what a little shit.

"Frankie's right, you really are such a good girl, sweetheart. Look at you beg all sweet and nicely. Should I reward you?"

Imma strangle him. Let me at him.

He's close. You grip onto his curls, tightly until it must sting. Just the way you know he likes it from all the time you’ve seen how fast it makes him come when Frankie does it to him, and Santiago groans, hips stuttering into you.

👀 I see she's got her own bag of tricks too

You must be screaming at him. Want to claw and dig into the man’s curly hair and tear it out by the roots. Curse him to the depths of fucking hell while you’re at it.

I will strangle him. I don't even mean it in a fun way.

His arms wrap tightly around your front, shushing you and it almost sounds sincere if you didn’t know him as well as you do. "Not teasing, cariño, promise."

🙄 I'll believe when I see is track star.

"Left it on when we passed out, thought the battery died and the video didn't save. Fortunately, it's fine, will just have to trim it down so Frankie doesn't have to watch us snoring for hours."

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA goof what a goof

I want to hear about how one fracisco morales did not survive watching the tape. 😌😈

Summary: Santiago and you make a sextape for Frankie.

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Santiago x female reader (you) (hints of Frankie)

Content: edging (you know the drill with this bastard by now), peak brat behaviour, overstimulation, voyeurism.

Wordcount: 5.9k words

Homecoming Masterlist | Astroboot's Masterlist 

It starts the way so many things start between you and Santiago. It was a stupid idea, and Santiago talked you into it.

"Do you want to make a sex tape?"

You blink dumbly at Santiago, mouth agape. Your phone screen is still warm against your thumb from when you clicked the red button to end your call with Frankie not two seconds ago.

Your husband is out of town in Jacksonville, in a shitty hotel room they've set him up with, 10 minutes off base. Poor Frankie had sounded absolutely miserable when you spoke to him on the phone and the idea of sending him something to perk him up, a flirty text to rile him up, maybe a risque photo did cross your mind but a sex tape might be a little bit out of your depth.

You stare up at Santiago. His beautiful full lips, curling into a smile, eyes glinting with that trademark mischief that is the prelude for talking you into doing pretty much anything for him.

It's been that way since you were kids. There's never been one of Santiago's cockamamie plan that he hasn't managed to get you signed onto. Sweet smile and even sweeter talk. Car salesmen have nothing on Santiago.

“Frankie must be feeling lonely by himself in that hotel, we should send him something to make him feel less lonely," he says.

Santiago leans down, until his arms are caging you in, face close until the tip of his nose brushes against your cheeks, and that small contact makes you tingle all over.

“You miss him too right?”

Despite the self-satisfied smirk there, the sentiment is sincere. Still, you've never been one to make things easy for Santiago either.

"Santiago. I'm not Kim Kardashian. Don't be ridiculous."

He tips his head, considering you, and Santiago clearly hears the word that you did not say. You didn't say no. You prevaricated the way you often do when it's not that you don't want to: you like to needle him, for him to plead and ask nicely. For Santiago to pull out the red carpet treatment.

"How pretty do I have to ask?" he says, smiling wider than ever.

That is how you find yourself in your bedroom, not twenty minutes later. Wearing old sweatpants and one of Frankie's softworn T-shirts that you've spilled some soy and Sriracha sauce on earlier at lunch. It is, singlehandedly the worst outfit to memorialize on tape.

You tell Santiago as much, but he just sits you down on the mattress, ignoring that sentiment entirely with a half distracted, “don’t be ridiculous, that horny freak gets off on you wearing his ugly-looking clothes.”

Snorting with laughter, you sit down obediently as instructed because Santiago does make a valid point.

In front of you, Santiago is moving diagonally from the nightstand next to the bed to the footstool by the end of the bed, rearranging the furniture in the bedroom that would be "blocking the view," like he's playing furniture Tetris.

Then he comes back to stand in front of you, practically bouncing at the ball of his heels with excitement. You can feel the eagerness vibrate off of him, as he rolls ups his sleeves to his forearms. Eyes lighting up with that proud accomplished smile of his that makes butterflies swirl in your belly.

"You ready sweetheart?" he asks.

You shake your head amused, as you place your phone in Santiago's hand so that he can use it to record.

His smile drops, and it's like you've thrown a dark curtain over him, the luminous light in his eyes dimming, narrowing at the item in his hand, as if it's offended him, curled in half disgust.

"Phone?"

He says it with such indignity in his voice, it's as if you insulted his late mother by this very act.

"What's wrong with my phone?" you ask.

And boy do you immediately regret ever saying it. It launches Santiago into a game of twenty questions. Because suddenly, he's decided that he's the next Stanley Kubrick of homemade sex video tapes.

"Don’t we have something better?"

"Can't you go get Frankie's Go-Pro camera?"

"Don't you at least have a tripod?"

"How are we gonna get a good angle?"

"Is it okay if I move the reading lamp from the living room here to get better lighting?"

It would be childish to roll your eyes, but Santiago-Maria Luca Hernandez Garcia makes it really fucking hard not to sometimes. For someone who's never been able to properly frame himself in a selfie, he sure is high and mighty about his artistic camera skills all of a sudden. He only capitulates when you counter that a sex tape shot on a Go-Pro is a terrible idea. Nobody wants to watch themselves naked through a wide-angle lens.

This is so quintessential Santiago. He gets an idea into his head and will use every tool in his arsenal to convince you that his idea is a brilliant one. Then, once he has worn you out with his persuasion, and has you (begrudgingly) onboard, he will start bitching about every detail of the itinerary as if this wasn’t his project to begin with. You truly pity the people who had to be on his team for a group project back in school (which was almost always inevitably you).

It's enough to make you regret this whole endeavor before you've ever even started.

As you see him drag the armchair in the corner in front of the foot of the bed, and gingerly prop the phone against a cushion, the ridiculousness of this whole scenario washes over you. You’re not sure if you want to laugh or cry at the sheer stupidity that you’ve signed yourself up to.

Santiago fiddles with the phone on the chair, and you see him angling it until he's satisfied that it captures you in frame before he leans back up.

The tiny lens flickers red then green, and the bright light has you flashing hot then cold then hot all over again. Your nerves suddenly a lot shakier than they were just a few seconds ago when you were bantering with the man.

Staring at yourself framed within your phone screen, you feel observed, in a way that shakes your own confidence.

Your heart skips erratically and you remind yourself mentally that, it's fine, it’s just you and Santiago in here. But there's heat prickling your face. Your fingers feel numb, sweating hot and cold at the same time and you find yourself clenching and unclenching your fists into the sheets to get some sort of sensation back into your hands.

“Do you want to stop?”

There’s concern etched on the soft lines of his forehead, one finger already hovering over the stop button. Ready to give you an out, if you didn’t want this.

And it’s not that you don’t want to do this. It's just--

You shake your head. “No… Just--” You let out a stuttering laugh, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand. They’re shaky.

“You nervous?”

You hadn’t realized until he said it, but yes, you are. You give him a small nod, and he moves towards you, until he's sitting at the end of the bed next to you, and takes both your trembling hands in his, drawing them to his lap, and rubs them like he's trying to kindle a fire with your fingers.

The nerves in you melt, air flowing back into your lungs, and you can feel yourself warm pleasantly out to your fingertips.

"That better cariño?"

His voice is nothing like the teasing arrogance when he had tried to talk you into this in the first place. Nothing like the haughty banter when he had been going off about lighting and camera equipment. It's soft and gentle, a voice that tells you he's going to pick you right up if you stumble.

You nod again, releasing the long breath you've been holding all this time.

“Santiago, this is really stupid.”

He chuckles, a bright little sound that’s entirely too boyish coming from a man nearing the end of his thirties, with pepper and salt scattered over his five o clock shadow. It’s what makes it all the more endearing.

“That’s okay,” he says.

He leans closer to you, until he's mouthing the line of your jaw with his soft kisses. Lips moulding over yours, as he playfully nips at your bottom lip. Then he leans even closer, pushing, until the firm weight of his chest has you flat against the mattress and you're willingly pinned down underneath those gorgeous brown eyes of his.

“You make me do real stupid shit too," he tells you.

Your head turns to the side, and you look at the bright lens of your phone staring blankly back at you.

Your face must look pudgy from this angle. Shit, you're not even wearing make up. Did you even properly brush your hair? This is so stupid.

“Don’t think of the camera,” Santiago tells you, pressing a succinct kiss to your lips. “Just focus on me, sweetheart.”

His hand comes to rest on your cheek and he guides you back to his lips, obscuring your line of sight. It's like you have Santiago-blinders on and all you can see is him.

Soft and steady, his hands skim down the sides of your ribs, sliding up the hem of your shirt before his fingertips is brushing up against your bare skin. It tingles, warmth spreading up your spine as Santiago, slowly drags up the fabric up and over the swell of your breasts. Exposing your naked skin to the colder temperature of the room, soothing you with his warm mouth as he presses it up along every inch of skin that is bared to him. Up, up, up, until he pulls the shirt off you completely, until all you're left is in your plain panties, while he is still fully dressed, and he grins down at you.

"Good?" he asks, and you nod back at him as he leans back to pull up his shirt and evens out the playing field for you.

One large hand rests flat against the inside of your thighs, and that helps, the comforting presence of him as he squeezes down firmly with just the right pressure that has tension melting out of you.

Santiago has beautiful hands really. His fingers are long and nimble. In another lifetime, one where his right hand weren't littered with scars left from four different fractures and calluses forged in live gunfire, one could have easily mistaken him for being a classically trained pianist with hands like that. Fingers that playfully flit across your goosebumped skin. Fingers that slide down your hips, along the plump flesh of the inside of your thighs before dipping inside, circling your clit.

You arch and buck into him, keen and writhing. At the first touch of him, he touches just the right note and everything goes blissfully silent in your head. You forget about the camera, forget about any qualms you had.

He goes slow.

Patient, might not be the word to describe Santiago, but he is taking his time. Letting his lips cover, nip and lick down every inch of you as they press downwards from the collar of your neck to the soft slope of your stomach, until you can feel the pleasant scratch of his afternoon stubble graze along the soft skin of your legs.

"Spread your legs for me, cariño," he murmurs as he presses his lips there until you oblige him, and do.

Both his hand comes to rest at your knees, hooking them over his shoulders. Anticipation beats hard beneath your chest.

He's so close to where you need him. Nose practically touching your clit, and you can feel your slick drip down and out of you. Your fingers clutch at the quilts underneath you, waiting, and still there's nothing.

Opening your eyes, you dip down your eyes to Santiago nestled between your legs to see what the hold up is. Then you see it, Santiago, grinning with a sly look into the camera.

"She's so pretty and wet, Frank," he murmurs, as his fingers spread your wet folds wide for himself.

Insufferable brat.

You cant your hips with an impatient scolding whine, "Santiago."

He chuckles, and shifts between your legs, "Sorry cariño, will get right on it. Just got distracted for a bit."

His head leans down again, then all you see is his curls, loose and wild at the top of his head, before you feel his tongue touching down. A long thorough lick that has heat crackling through your veins.

It’s nice and slow, agonizingly so. Different, from what you’re used to. Frankie gets lost in it—in you. Hungry, sloppy and messy in the best of ways. That brilliant, clever brain of his turns off and it’s like the only thing left that he’s able to focus on in this new world of his is to taste you and have you, free of rhyme and reason, acting on instincts alone, guided only by the vibrations of your body and the moans you make.

Santiago is the opposite of that. 

His tongue is more deliberate. Like he’s trying to learn every one of your responses and sear them into his memory. 

Long and graceful fingers, exploratory, like he's trying to map out every inch of you to make sure that there's no territory that's been missed.

Intentional.

Precise and measured.

Santiago is a man who plans every step ahead. Every touch, every whisper, every tantalizing lick. It's in the way he keeps his hands steady underneath your back when your legs start to strain from pushing up towards his mouth. The way he was wearing your favorite red shirt that sits just a little bit too tight on his chest. The way he knew exactly where to drag your armchair to ensure that the angle of the camera would be right.

And as you think it, you realize that even though he brought up the sex tape as an innocent spur-of-the-moment suggestion, the bastard's thought of this way before Frankie had called to check in today.

Fuck, he's played you.

His tongue curls against your clit, flicking up and white sizzling heat spears through your stomach. You gasp, mind wiped clean of thoughts as your fingers curl into his hair.

Fuck, fuck, what were you thinking?

You’re a twitching, aching mess for him. Thighs pressed tight to his ears, as you can feel the tingling heat that starts from your core that spreads outwards and surrounds you in a devastatingly familiar way.

His tongue is a languid, slick slide against your clit. Fingers gracefully coaxing you until you're right where he wants you to be— that pinpoint edge of a slow burning ache that spreads across the entire base of your spine until your legs start to shake in that tell-tale sign of your orgasm.

“Fuck— Santiago, I’m—” you warn, but you can’t even make out complete words to finish your sentence, just indignant whines and sobs that should be shameful but you’re too far gone to care.

Because you’re almost there, so close you can feel it from the tingling sensation that reaches all the way from the very tip of your ears to the curl of your toes—how close you are to coming on that man’s tongue, and then— then— he stops.

He does not let you come.

It takes you a second, maybe two, for your brain to even fully register what has taken place. You rise up on your elbows, to stare down between your legs, where Santiago framed between your thighs, gazing back up at you. Lips curved upwards with amused mischief. Not a grin, no—that bastard is smiling at you, warm and sweet like he hasn’t done anything wrong at all.

“What are you—” you start.

“Not much of a sex tape if we don’t put on a show, sweetheart.”

You open your mouth to protest, to give him the tongue lashing of his fucking life. But his fingers curl inside you, brushing against something devastatingly good. Your head drops back against the pillow with a thud, back arching away from your mattress and into his fingers, trying to have more of him, as he is rubbing against that deep spot that is blinding.

White, blistering heat spears through you that have you forgetting all about your indignant anger, have you forgetting what he did and fuck—makes you forget about your own fucking name for a second.

“Fuck, that’s such a pretty sound,” he says, voice feverish and rasped, “You think you can do that for me again?”

You groan impatiently, and Santiago's still smiling up at you, deep dimples burrowing into his cheek. It doesn’t matter that there are greys that are starting to skirt around his temples, or that wrinkles are crinkling in the corner of his eyes. He lights up boyishly, and all at once, you realize that —fuck, it’s embarrassing how much you’re a complete goner for this man.

The things you let him talk you into; the things you let him get away with. The things he’s doing to you right now: clever fingers rubbing-curling-pressing at that perfect place inside of you as he lowers his mouth to you again, his heated gaze never leaving yours.

The tingling heat is back, resuming its outward spread along your trembling limbs. A delicious pressure that builds and builds, more oppressive than last time under Santiago's skilled tongue and even more skillful fingers until you can’t think at all. Until all you can do is to rock your hips up against the heat of his mouth, gasping out his name. You reach out for him, your fingers sliding into his hair of their own volition to tangle and tug him even closer, pressing his face to your aching center.

Santiago doesn’t seem to mind at all. He just huffs out a sound that’s a half laugh, half groan and keeps kissing and pressing and teasing with that very same planned precision that is leading you ever closer to the edge of orgasm.

And then --of course-- he stops again.

An inhuman-sounding noise fills the walls. It takes you a moment before you register, it's coming from you.

"Shh, shh" he hushes, "it's ok sweetheart, you're okay."

Which is utter bullshit, your legs are trembling against the mattress, sweat dripping down your collarbone and you can't feel your toes. You're anything but okay.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this. You know that?” Santiago says.

"I hate you."

He's laughing again, no scratch that, giggling, that bright boyish sound that has a kaleidoscope of butterflies skittering in your stomach even though you're mad enough to kill him.

"No you don't," he rebuts confidently, as he presses his palm flat against your stomach. "You don't hate me, because I'm making you feel good, aren't I sweetheart? Why don't you tell Frankie how good you feel,” he murmurs, and then you feel his tongue press a slow lick inside you.

You don't get a word out, just a high-pitched breathless sound, as you spread your legs wider for him, as if the events from seconds ago had been erased from your mind by the pleasure that floods over you. Letting bygones be bygones, so long as his tongue never stopped. Sweet little circles, his thumb rubs into your hipbone as he gets you closer and closer to where you want to go. He leads you there, with his tongue and fingers, the soft curls bouncing on his forehead tickling against your stomach, until your orgasm is so close you can touch it with your fingertips.

So close you can see it, specks of white behind your eyelids, as you are whimpering out his name.

Then he stops.

He leaves you there suspended. Toeing the edge of a drop, right before a jump, and doesn’t let you go.

You want to scream. You're so close, your body is doing the screaming for you. Thighs aching and burning, tears stinging behind your eyes.

“Nonooo, fuck, Santiago, don’t sto—”

“Ask me nicely, Cariño.” Santiago's mouth is still pressed against your slick core, and you can feel the warm breath of his words against your folds as he says it. It makes you shiver at the sensation. “Ask me nicely, and I'll let you come. I promise.”

You open your eyes, with a sob, as you look down at him. Those gorgeous brown eyes, expecting his usual grin and bravado. Except it's not there, replaced by an intent that burns through your stomach, staring back at you in challenge: Beg.

You won’t, and it’s not just because if you gave in the man’s ego would be large enough to develop its own gravitational pull until it collapsed the very sun itself with it.

It's because you can't let him win.

The two of you have always had this strange competitive relationship. When he pushes you have to pull him back. Because if you give Santiago an inch he gets ahead of himself and will try to take a whole continent. You have to reel him back, and in the end if you’re lucky, he only goes for a mile. Still close enough that he’s not out of your sight. It’s what you’ve always done. It’s why the two of you work.

So of course you can’t beg. That’s just fucking ridiculous, to roll over and present your belly in defeat, to give in to this beautiful bastard is unthinkable to you.

You don’t beg, biting down your bottom lip to physically restrain yourself in your weakest moments when his tongue melts you. Don't beg when his fingers undoes you, unwinding the knot of heat that is blossoming in the depth of your belly, warm and achingly sweet.

You feel drunk on sensation, overstimulated by Santiago's tongue and mouth, as he latches his mouth on your clit again. You're not so sure about anything anymore. Don't know how long you've been here, how long he's done this, brought you to the precipice only to stop and start all over again.

It must be the fourth? Fifth time? Of having been led so close to your release with his tongue, only for him to slow down his strokes. To have his infuriating mouth, move away, and leave a trail of wet, soft kisses against the line of your inner thighs instead. To have him waiting until he knows you’ve climbed down from the very edge of a peak he’s held your hand and led you up to. After all of that, everything becomes a bit foggy and hazy.

It's not that you forfeit as such, you just can't remember doing it — can't remember asking him. But somewhere along the line, you let out a shaky, “ple-please” punctuated with a hiccuping sob.

He smiles.

“There we go. That’s all I wanted. All you needed to do is ask, sweetheart."

There’s an insufferable grin this time as you look down between your thighs. That diamond-cut jawline, belonging to the golden era of Hollywood is now glistening with your slick. He licks his lips like he’s tasting the remnants of something sweet and appetizing that he doesn’t want to go to waste.

After that first defeat, it gets easier. You can’t believe how easy it is as you start pleading and begging. Can barely believe that’s what you’re doing even as you hear your own voice all wanton and needy doing exactly that.

Santiago raises himself to kneel over your spread legs. His fingers are wrapped tight around the base of his cock, stroking himself languidly as he looks down on you.

"Frankie's right, you really are such a good girl, sweetheart. Look at you beg all sweet and nicely. Should I reward you?"

Your eyes are so dazed you’re unable to focus—everything’s a blur. You wonder what you must look like right now. How debauched of an image you must make for the camera— for your husband. Legs spread, slick and dripping, head thrown back, mouth slack and open.

“Please just— Fuck, Santiago, please. Please, I need to come.”

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and his hand comes to rest on the back of your thighs, warm and sturdy as he draws them up and spreads them.

For all the frustration you should feel at him for taking things this far. For being such an absolute little shit, all you can feel as he pulls you further down the bed until your legs are locked around his waist (right where you two belong), is warmth and relief.

Santiago leans down until his forehead is pressed against yours, grounding you. The contrast between what he’s done— teased and edged, unwound you until you’ve lost any sense of time or thread of your surroundings; and what he’s doing to you right now in this moment—mouthing loving praises against every inch of your skin he can reach with the gentlest care— it tears you apart.

“That’s my good fucking girl,” he tells you, his warm hands resting on your inner thigh as he spreads it further apart and crawls up your body to settle between them. “So perfect. Always are.”

Your eyes are drawn to his cock, how it’s proudly jutting between his legs as he strokes it, flushed and dripping with precome from the lack of touch and neglect.

It's only then it hits you, how Santiago has been neglecting his own pleasure throughout. Only focusing on giving you yours.

It’s ridiculous really, how your heartbeat quickens when he’s pressed up against your slick cunt, how needy you are when you feel the blunt hardness of him.

His hands wrap around the thick girth, and then he pushes inside you with his cock.

Fuck you might almost come from that first blissful stroke alone. He nudges insistently against something ruinous inside you that makes your vision whiten. You can't even make any noises, because all the oxygen is knocked out of your lungs. God, why didn’t you beg sooner if this was the prize he was willing to give you.

Santiago's moaning too. Low and gravelly and it’s such a beautiful sound that makes your chest draw tight. Then he rocks his hips into you, a deep and impatient thrust, not holding back. You drown in it. The lack of restraint and how he’s finally giving you what you’ve wanted for so long.

He's close. You grip onto his curls, tightly until it must sting. Just the way you know he likes it from all the time you’ve seen how fast it makes him come when Frankie does it to him, and Santiago groans, hips stuttering into you.

You’re so fucking close, and you tell him exactly that. Confesses it between gasps and heaving sobs. All you want is for him to fuck you harder and deeper, to make you come.

"Please, Santiago, please just—."

The molten heat blossoms and spreads from the base of your spine, upwards, and you're almost there. So full with the sensation that you think you’re going to burst out of yourself along the seams of your skin. You’re close, so close. Heat crackling along every inch of you and—

And then Santiago fucking pulls out.

You must be screaming at him. Want to claw and dig into the man’s curly hair and tear it out by the roots. Curse him to the depths of fucking hell while you’re at it.

But Santiago pulls you up until you're kneeling upright by the edge of the bed. He's murmuring sweet apologies into your ear as he mouths and kisses your neck.

For all the physical anger in you, your body is not pairing up with your brain, because the touch of him lingers with a pleasant tingle. You keen through sobs even as you’re uttering every curse that’s left in your presently limited vocabulary.

His arms wrap tightly around your front, shushing you and it almost sounds sincere if you didn’t know him as well as you do. "Not teasing, cariño, promise."

You don’t buy that, don't buy that for shit. But it doesn't matter if you do or don't, Santiago's hands are already moving to your hips, lining himself up from behind you, his front pressed up against your back.

"I just want Frankie to see you when you come," he murmurs into your ear. His fingers curl gently over the edge of your jaw, turning it so you’re facing straight away from him. “See that?”

Your vision is blurred and it takes you several moments before you’re able to blink and focus on the scene ahead of you. Your phone that’s pointed accusingly at your naked body.

Exhausted, limbs weak to your side like a spent rag doll, with only Santiago propping you up from where your back is pressed against his firm chest.

"I want you to think about it, cariño,” his warm lips are pressed to your ear, a low raspy caress in your core. “Think about Frankie watching this where he is.”

You whimper. Images of Frankie with his large hands and thick fingers, wrapped around his cock burning vividly behind your closed eyes.

You feel the length of Santiago drag against your folds, gathering the wetness that's just dripping onto his cock.

“Think about how he’ll be touching himself in that hotel room. About him watching this and seeing my cock stretch out this perfect pussy."

Then he's pressing inside you again. His palms slide from your breast to your stomach, the rough callouses catching against your heated skin, down and lower. Until you feel his fingers skate across your navel. There's a tingling sensation there until his hands come to the front, cupping your pussy, his fingers gliding over your wet slick clit, over and over. The entirety of your spine burns.

The inevitable steady climb of your orgasm builds and builds and builds after having been denied so many times.

You want it, thighs burning and everything in you aches with the need of it. If you don’t get to come this time you think you might very well die from it.

"Santiago, I swear to god, don't-stop-don't-fucking-stop."

It’s meant as a threat. But the words passing between your lips are breathless and needy. Whiny. Beyond any reasonable doubt it falls squarely on the scale of begging. The worst part is, you don't even care anymore. Because if whining and begging is what it takes for him to actually let you come, you’ll whine for him. You’ll beg and plead and do whatever it is he wants you to do.

Your pride was scattered somewhere between the third or fourth or maybe even fifth time he could have made you come but didn’t.

The sharp line of his nose digs into your heated cheek. Arms locked impossibly tight around you, pressing every inch of you to him, and still, it feels like he’s clutching on trying to press you even closer to him. Like he’s worried that you’ll slip between his fingers if there’s any gap of space between you.

"Not gonna stop cariño.”

His voice has no right to be that sweet and gentle. You can see his expression on the small screen on the phone mirrored back to you and he has no right to look strained and tortured as if he’s the one in pain. He did this to you.

“I want to feel you come on my cock,” he says, and his voice is so quiet and gentle, it almost sounds like a plea. Like he’s the one asking for your permission, begging you to let him feel you. Like the last hour (or was it hours, god knows) had not taken place because of him. “Let's come together ok?"

His other hand comes to your hip, pulling you in closer to him. His hips snaps hard into you. It's so much, almost too much and his fingers are still circling your clit, and– and fuuuuuuuck.

It hits you all at once. Deep and sudden and everywhere, your orgasm overwhelms you, until you can't breathe, can't think, can't move. Sound disappears altogether, and the last thing you think you hear is Santiago's strained voice, distant and far away. You're only able to make out your husband's name and yours amongst the rest of the nonsensical words he's speaking.

The only thing you're capable of is letting Santiago fuck into you, until you can feel his hips stutter into a jerky pace, and the way his cock twitches inside of you as he comes with a strangled groan.

Santiago is snoring quietly when you wake with your ear pressed against his chest. The afternoon sun has dimmed now, replaced by a softer amber that washes the white walls in its sunset hues.

Raising yourself by your elbows, you cast a quick glance at the clock on the nightstand, shit, 5pm, how did you sleep away half the day.

Santiago is how.

"Shit, did we fall asleep?" a raspy murmur comes to your side.

He's rubbing the sleep from his eyes, eyes squinting adorably as he sits himself up and surveys the room and spots the clock much like you did.

"Jesus, five? how did we even--" he grumbles a bit, fingers threading through his hair to try to detangle the absolute mess you've left it in, as he starts to wake.

"Oh, oh shit shit!" he curses and launches himself to the foot of the bed.

You watch him in surprise, as you see him grab the phone.

"Oh thank god," Santiago sighs out and his shoulders sag with relief. He turns back towards you, holding up the phone.

"Left it on when we passed out, thought the battery died and the video didn't save. Fortunately, it's fine, will just have to trim it down so Frankie doesn't have to watch us snoring for hours."

The image of it, Frankie sitting in his hotel, trying to get his rocks off, and instead being greeted by three hour footage of Santiago snoring, has you snorting with a grunt-like laugh.

In front of you, Santiago tilts his head as he just looks at you, with a dopey smile on his face.

"What?" you ask.

"Nothing," he says, but the smile, sweet and warmer than the sunset blankets over you and you let it settle over you, without any further quip or remarks for once.

"Wanna grab a bite to eat?" Santiago asks you.

Your tongue salivates at the prospect, images of grilled meats and deep fried spring rolls already flashing before your eyes.

"Oh yes! Can we go to Chinos?"

Santiago smile slips away into a scowl. "Didn't that place get shut down for health violations last month?"

"Yeah, but they reopened this week."

"We're going to end up with food poisoning like that time we went there the night before graduation."

You tip your head, considering him, and you can clearly hear the word that he didn't say. He didn't say no.

Your lips curl into the sweetest smile you can muster as you flutter your eyelashes at him. "How pretty do I have to ask?"

Santiago shakes his head, until he flashes you a toothy smile that crinkles his eyes.

It starts the way so many things start between you and Santiago. It was a stupid idea, and you may have talked Santiago into it.

a/n: to be notified of new writing updates follow @astroboots-writes and turn on notifs 🤡💖🤡

A/N: I started this piece well over 1 1/2 years ago and it was actually supposed to be the follow up to Coming Home but I got completely stuck at how to write edging scenes, and didn't feel confident enough at the time to finish it. I came back to it this week, realizing that ironically now this is all I write for Santiago, and finished it within an afternoon, and was just so buzzed and happy about it, I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.