#flirting with literature
Text
Flyboy
Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales x female Reader
Co-written with @absurdthirst
Rating: E for Extremely Explicit!
Word Count: 12k
Warnings: Alcohol, gold medal flirting, cocky young Frankie should have a warning all his own, alcohol consumption, dirty talk, masturbation, tits, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, protected sex, somnophilia (roleplay? technically? I dunno).
Summary: Out to celebrate with your coworkers, you have a random encounter with a handsome Army pilot and decide to take a chance.
Notes: ✨💖🎈Last week I passed the unbelievable milestone of 1.5k followers and I just absolutely cannot thank all of you lovely folx enough!! Well over a THOUSAND of you have joined me since I became a part of the Pedro fandom a little over a year ago and I am just continually floored by the amazing response you’ve all had to not only my work alone but my collaborations with Keri. Being able to come to this little corner of the internet and share my words with all of you has been a gift of magnitude that I cannot begin to explain properly. You have my gratitude, dear readers and followers, and I hope to continue to be silly in this corner of the internet with you for a long time to come.🎈💖✨
✈ I know the gif is from Hermanas, but I chose it because this is baby Frankie! ✈
The party had started with noon beers at your coworker's college graduation party. When it turned into afternoon sangria and then evening margaritas, the group of merrily celebrating coworkers had begun to dwindle a few at a time. Somebody's spouse came to whisk them off to dinner from the bar. A significant other joined the group for one drink and they both left together by the next. One of the older members of the group threw in the towel when she ran out of cigarettes, calling it her signal from the universe that her night was over. Another got called away by a different group of friends. Now it's just three of you left, bellied up to a high-top table in a dive bar with busy pool tables and a karaoke contest going on. The basket of popcorn on the table between you keeps you thirsty enough to brave the commotion to grab another rum and Coke, even as your two friends are giggling over the group of flyboys that are conquering the pool tables. "Who wants another?" You ask above the music, pointing to your friends' dwindling glasses.
Nights out on the town were sacred. The reward for surviving the instructors all week and not killing anyone as they learned control of the Bell UH-1 Iroquois, otherwise known as the Huey. “Yo Fish!” Frankie huffs, looking up from the table where he is positioned for his shot, knowing that the cocky motherfucker was just trying to distract him from his shot. He lands the next ball in the corner pocket and Smith owes him a hundred bucks. “It’s your turn to by rounds man!”
“In a hundred bucks!” He yells back, shaking his head. He turns back to the table, leaning down and calculating angles before he pushes the chalked-up cue forward to strike the cue ball into the striped three ball, pushing it into the corner pocket he had called earlier.
There's good natured hollering and jeering as you head toward the bar to grab another round for your friends as the flyboys give one of their own a hard time about something, and their inevitable good mood means it's going to take longer to squeeze past the pool tables to get to the bar. "Civilian coming through, boys. Make room!" You joke, trying to get them to move just enough to give you a tiny path through.
Rivera might be one of the best in the class, second only to Frankie, but he was a clumsy son of a bitch. It’s pure dumb luck that Frankie turns right as Rivera jumps back, his exuberant cheering causing him to back into the pretty woman that is edging her way through the sea of Army pilots in training. “Fuck!” Leaping forward, he manages to push past the overgrown child to catch her before she falls flat on her unstable - and cute - butt.
"You guys are really taking that whole sweep a girl off her feet thing seriously these days, I see." The one guy in the bunch with fast enough reflexes to keep you from hitting the ground is broad and strong, towering over you as he lifts you back up to your feet as easily as you snatched a falling piece of popcorn out of the air earlier. "Thanks, flyboy."
Frankie grins, quick and sharp, liking the way you punned your rescue. “Not but the best for damsels in distress.” He tells you with a wink. “But I’ll let you buy me a drink to thank me.” He’s teasing, knowing full well he won’t let you buy him a drink, although he would buy you one if you’ll let him.
"Hmmm." Pretending to consider him, you give the dimpled, smirking pilot a long look up and down before you nod. It's been a long day of carousing with people you're sort of half-friends with, and you could use a few minutes of getting hit on to revitalize your enthusiasm for the night before you go back to them. "Alright," you agree, aiming a smirk of your own right at him. "But just you, not the round you're supposed to be buying for all your buddies."
Chuckling, Frankie turns around and shoves the hundred dollar bill he had just taken off Smith back into the man’s hand. “There you go boys.” He crows. “Rounds on me and I’ll win another round some other time.” He tells him, knowing that Smith will beckon the pretty red headed waitress over to order some more beers and shots.
"So what's your poison, flyboy?" Having lived in this town for years, the tales of the Army pilots scouring their favourite dives for local girls to entertain for a night - or sometimes a whole weekend if the story gets embellished - are plentiful and entertaining. It's not the first time you've had run ins with them, if you could call this a run in, but it's the first time you've seen this particular guy and he is extremely easy on the eyes. Sidling up to the crowded bar together, you can feel the heat rolling off him in waves beside you. Like a summer night but in human form.
Frankie smirks, enjoying the nickname, even if ‘Morales’ is clearly marked on his uniform with a neat name bar. “Francisco, but you can call me Frankie or ‘Cat’ if you want.” He tells you. “What’s your name? I didn’t quite catch it when I was catching you.”
“I must have forgotten my manners with the lack of gravity,” you joke, giving him an amused smile before you tell him your first name.
“Beautiful.” He gives you a small wink. “Just like you.” After casually dropping the compliment, he turns towards the bartender who’s just arrived. “Drinks on my tab.” He tells him before he looks back at you. “What’ll it be?”
“I thought I was buying?” The question doesn’t hang in the air for long because the bartender is swamped, and you shake your head at the pilot beside you. “Rum and Coke.” You tell the bartender after another second, and you fish a few bills out of your pocket. “And two more margaritas for the two girls at the corner table by the windows.” You’ll happily kill a little time with this flyboy, and the bar has plenty of capable waitresses who can deliver the round you promised to buy.
Frankie shakes his head and pushes your money back towards you. “I’ll get it.” He tells you before ordering his own, a beer since he was under strict order to not embarrass the Army by getting shitfaced.
“You don’t have to pay for my friends.” Offering him the bill instead, you roll your eyes when he gives you an ’are you serious?’ look and tuck the money back into your pocket. “Thanks, then. From what’s left of my squad. I know they’ll appreciate it.”
“Girls’ night out?” He asks, craning his neck to look over at the table where the other two girls are watching you with devious little grins on their faces. Frankie tilts his head up in acknowledgement but then his eyes fall back to you. “Not putting a damper on things, am I?”
“Not at all.” You give your friends a wave and lean on the bar a little more. “We had a coworker’s graduation party this afternoon and we’ve been bar hopping ever since. Started out with ten of us and we’re the last three.”
“Three musketeers of trouble, huh?” He grins, matching your stance and swipes at his bottom lip with his tongue. Habit more than trying to draw your attention to his lips, but he doesn’t miss your eyes following the movement. “So which one are you?”
“Porthos, obviously.” Alright, he might be the only man in uniform to ever flirt with you using literary references, so you’re going to go ahead and give him bonus points for that even if he’s only ever seen the movies. He’s far too hot to not get bonus points for something. “Always up for a good joke, a drink, a flirt, all that good stuff. Nothing’s ever serious until it’s deadly serious and by that time I’ve already thought of three puns to use while kicking somebody’s ass.” That might be giving yourself a tad too much credit, but what is flirting if not selling yourself? Good sales need embellishment sometimes, that’s all.
“Really?” He lifts a brow and chuckles, enjoying the easy banter between the two of you. While going out was always in the hopes of meeting a gorgeous lady to perhaps take home - or in his case, get her to take him home - it wasn’t a requisite for a good night. However, his prospects for not sleeping alone just got better. “Aramis is more my personality but instead of religion, it’s flying.” He jokes. “Or maybe flying is my religion.”
“Seductions, poetry, and unwavering loyalty.” Clicking your tongue, the shoulder shrug you give him is more animated than just a dismissive little gesture. “That’s a hell of a way to promote yourself.”
“Well, I don’t like to brag…” The playful banter is cut off by the bartender bringing the drinks over and he sets all four in front of you. “I’ll deliver the drinks to the table.” He offers, giving you the choice of ending the conversation or continuing.
“Sure.” You can agree to that, despite knowing that your coworkers will try to chat him up and either tell him a ridiculous story about you or - much more embarrassing - tell him how long it’s been since you dated anybody and tease him about taking you home. Not that that would be a particularly bad thing. Not this guy. At least he has a brain behind that smirk.
Frankie nods, picking up the two margaritas and turning around to deliver them to the table. Buoyed by the fact that you aren’t following behind him, and still leaning against the bar as he holds the drinks up carefully to keep from being jostled as he winds through the crowd. “Ladies.” He coos as he sets them down. “Margaritas, compliments of your lovely co-worker.”
“I told you she was gonna get hit on next.” Your younger coworker complains, clearly hoping she would have gotten that honour. “You’re sure these aren’t from you and your buddies over there?”
“Annie—” The other woman swats at the friend’s arm playfully and offers the man in front of them a smile. “Ignore her. Thank you for the delivery, handsome. Be good to our girl, okay?”
Frankie chuckles and looks over at the swarm of servicemen still crowding around the pool table. “I’ll tell you what?” He points over at Smith. “You go up to that tall, goofy looking motherfucker right there and tell him ‘Cat said to buy us a round’, I’ll bet you that he’ll hit on you.” He looks at Annie. “And the one with the glasses? He’ll hit on you.” He predicts, knowing they are very much the other men’s type. “But at least you’ll get a free round.”
“See how gallant he is?” The older of the two women laughs and picks up her drink from where he set it in front of her and even Annie has to smile in agreement. “She,” your coworker leans in closer to the pilot conspiratorially and points at you across the crowded bar. “Loves reading and live music, and is inhuman without her morning coffee so make sure you remember that tomorrow.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Frankie winks at them and turns back to see you watching the interaction with an amused smile on your face. His grin gets a little wider and he keeps his eyes on you as he makes his way back to the bar. “Mission success.”
“Did they give you any tips or tell you an embarrassing anecdote?” You fully expect that of the two who are left, especially if Annie was feeling grumpy about not being flirted with.
“Just that I am to provide you with coffee in the morning if I expect human interaction.” He teases with a grin. “Which…same.”
“That…” A laugh escapes you and you shrug before taking a sip of your drink. “Is totally fair, actually. I can’t even get righteous about it.”
“Although maybe I need to be a little righteous.” Frankie picks up his beer and takes a sip of it. “They made it seem like I’m easy.” He huffs, pretending to be offended. “Like it’s guaranteed I’m going home with you tonight.”
“They’re hoping for a little water cooler gossip.” The way your wave it off is meant to be silly and a little dismissive, like of course your work friends just want the dirty details.
He snickers, leaning in again and glancing down at your lips. “Yeah?” He asks. “Does my little musketeer kiss and tell?” He tsks playfully. “Naughty.”
You nearly snort at the nickname, but have to admit that it’s weirdly cute. “Sometimes,” you admit, not missing the way his gaze drops to your lips before raking back up to your eyes. “If the kiss is worth talking about.”
“Hmmmm.” He pretends to take a notebook out of his pocket, miming writing in his palm. “Make kiss worth it.” He murmurs to himself. “Got it.” Looking up he flashes you a smirk. “Where?” He asks, knowing the question will confuse you.
“Where?” Tilting your head slightly, you pick up your drink to take a sip. Despite drinking on and off all day, you’ve had plenty to eat and plenty of nonalcoholic drinks, so it’s the question that’s confusing you and not booze making your brain float.
“Where do I kiss you to make it tellable?” He purrs.
“I thought you were trying to sell me on you not being easy?” The corner of your mouth quirks up in a smirk. Normally cocky isn’t really your thing, but he’s playful about it and you have to appreciate the hell out of that.
“Shit.” He hisses, rolling his eyes at himself. “Failed again.” He takes another sip of his beer and looks over at the table again, grinning when your friends are walking towards the pool table. “Your friends said you like reading. What genre?”
“The Three Musketeers is actually one of my favourites, but…” This question is always an interesting one for you to handle, but for no reason other than throwing caution to the wind, you decide to just tell him the blatant truth and see what his reaction is. “But most of what I read is romance novels, actually.”
“Nora Roberts type books or Anita Blake?” He asks, raising a brow and waiting for his answer. “Or maybe a little of everything?”
“A little bit of everything.” He knows who Anita Blake is? Hiding your impressed expression behind another sip of your drink, you actually laugh a little. “Depends on my mood.”
“Completely understandable.” He can see you are curious about how he knows about romance novels, so he decides that he will let you in on a secret. “I grew up with three older sisters.” He tells you easily. “Swiped their romances novels a lot as a teenager to see what they were giggling over.”
That makes sense, and you nod in understanding. “And did you learn anything interesting from your sisters’ books?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugs slightly, tucking his tongue in his cheek. “Hopefully so. I think so.” He sends you another wink. “Enough to get myself in trouble.”
“Good trouble, I hope.” If he’s read smutty novels then he might at least know how to find your clit, and that is another big bonus points.
“Cops have been called; noise complaints filed.” He admits with a grin. “That kind of trouble.”
“Not that a flyboy ever brags, right Aramis?” Noise complaints makes you smirk, knowing that your roommates have been ‘entertaining’ their own dates quite a bit lately and making a fucking racket in your apartment. A little payback might be fun.
“I didn’t know a sleep study was right next door.” He defends himself. “Besides, we weren’t even that loud.”
“A sleep study?” You burst out with a deep belly laugh, not expected that twist to the story at all. “Well shit, I hope they had good dreams after.”
“I tried my best.” He promises with, grinning at your laugh and tossing back the rest of his beer. Your own rum and Coke is looking low but he doesn’t know if you want another. “Want another? Or something else?” He asks, nodding towards your drink.
“Depends.” Shifting your weight from foot to foot, you deliberately lower your eyes to the gorgeous Cupid’s bow of his bottom lip before raising them again to meet his gaze. It’s not something you do - not often anyway. And it’s definitely early in the conversation to be bringing it up, but he’s…too good to pass up. “It’s cheaper to drink my own booze, if you want to give me something to talk about.”
He takes a minute to process it, checking your eyes to make sure you aren’t more intoxicated than you seem. When he sees that you are relatively sober, he nods. “If you’re sure?” He asks. “I’d love to talk with you.”
“You wanna tell your boys you’re leaving?” Most men probably wouldn’t bothering checking in with their guys, but you want to give him the option because you’ll definitely be sending his name in a text to your coworkers in case he didn’t introduce himself to them. A girl can never be too careful.
“Yeah.” He nods and looks over at the group that are now standing around the tables more than playing. “You can tell your girlfriends you’re leaving.” He flashes you a grin. “Make sure they know your name in case I end up missing, chained to your bed.” He quips. “I’d still be AWOL.”
“If you end up chained to my bed, it won’t be until after I know your safe word and any hard limits.” You tell him with the cool air of someone who actually has restraints on their bed. A four-poster bed and some scarves are the closest you come, but it’s fun to tease.
Frankie laughs, tossing his head back and letting it bark towards the ceiling. “God, we’re gonna have fun.” He predicts gleefully. His hand comes around you, resting on your back. “Come on Madame Dom. Let’s go make sure you’re safe and the assholes don’t look for me later on.”
“Pay your tab, flyboy.” He’s eager, and that makes you grin a little wider. “Or else it will be the bar looking for you and not your friends.” From your pocket, you pull out your phone and wave it slightly. “I’m gonna see if my roommates are home.”
“Shit, that’s right.” Frankie turns around and catches the bartender’s attention with his credit card. He can’t believe he almost forgot about his tab. The commander of the flight school would murder him if he had left a bill at a bar in town.
“All set?” His signature is down on the receipt as soon as the bartender puts it in front of him, and it looks like both of your roommates are out with dates tonight, so your end of things is all good. Thank god for that laundry spree you’d done a few days ago - clean sheets on the bed is something nice to look forward to even when you sleep alone.
“Yeah.” Frankie hands the guy a tip in cash and nods to him. “You want to say goodbye to your friends before we leave?”
“Probably should.” If you slip out without saying something, Annie will go from pouting to worried-little-sister mode in a heartbeat and start blowing up your phone nonstop. Which honestly is not such a bad trait to have in a friend that you occasionally bar hop with.
“I get it.” Frankie tells you. “You can’t be too careful.” His sisters had frequently called him when they went home with someone, baby brother would pick them up, but he was also protective of his sisters.
“Would you mind teaching the other men of the world that? Because they seem to think that our safety is emasculating then somehow.” You roll your eyes but smile, letting it turn into a grin when his friends make a roar of noise at your approach. It seems like this isn’t an all-too-unusual occurrence for your flyboy, but that doesn’t bother you. It’s not like you’re looking for a lifelong commitment here, just a little fun. “I’ll see you guys Monday,” You tell your friends, giving them both hugs. “Get home safe.” With a wink, you add. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Annie smirks, looking over at Frankie with a raised brow. “So, nothing?” She teases, only slightly jealous now that she’s flirting with the tall one like Frankie had predicted.
“Be nice or you won’t get details,” you laugh, giving them both a quick hug before stepping back to rejoin your new friend for the evening.
Frankie had already told the guys he would be back to base sometime, leaving it at that. “So, did you take a cab or drive?” He asks, knowing that he didn’t drive here tonight.
“Our driver got swooped up by her girlfriend an hour ago.” Phone already in hand, you can practically call for an Uber blindfolded with one finger in this town. Having so many bars and so many military men and women meant that on Saturday nights it was always easy to call for a ride. “The ride is only about ten minutes aaaand…it looks like our ride will be here in three.”
“Let’s get some air.” Frankie suggests, cover in hand as he guides you towards the door of the bar. He holds it open for you and as soon as he steps outside, he is placing it on his head, covering the military haircut and checking to make sure the cover is exactly aligned as it should be.
The night has turned cool, providing a little contrast to the scorching hot day and to the over-warmth of the crowded bar from so much body heat. It’s just enough to make you shiver once in your sundress and sigh happily. “Perfect night. Just cool enough to want someone nearby.”
“It is a nice night.” The two of you slowly stroll along the walkway in front of the bar, the noise muted behind its walls, only to blast out when the door swings open. “Although I did just realize something.”
“Oh yeah?” If you thought he was secretly a creep or married or something you never would have invited him to your place, so you doubt there’s about to be some big dramatic reveal, but he has a good sense of humor to go with that handsome face and has been good with pick up lines and such so far, so you just tilt your head at him and lean against the wall of the behind you. “What’s that?”
“Well, I think before you take me home…” He steps closer to you and his hand slowly reaches for your waist. “I think you should let me kiss you. To make sure you think it’s worth it.” He murmurs with a small smile on his lips as he looks into your eyes.
“Well, I think I’m worth going home with,” you tease, but you can feel your breathing shallow out a little at he presses into your space. Lord he really is exceptionally attractive, Aquiline nose and single dimple giving him a unique look that you can’t resist. “But why don’t you make sure you agree with me?”
He chuckles quietly, reaching up to hold your jaw between his thumb and index fingers, changing the angle slightly as he starts to lean in. “That mouth is gonna be trouble.” He murmurs before he presses his lips to yours, soft to start before leaning into it more.
Baby, you have no idea. The reply is right on the tip of your tongue, but he steals it away. It’s gone as soon as he spreads his fingers to cradle the line of your jaw in his large palm, replacing all of your senses with just him as you hum into the kiss.
Like anything good, Frankie firmly believes in getting a feel for it. Just like he’s doing as he kisses you. Slowly caressing your lips with his tongue and coaxing it open, allowing him inside. Heat will follow, rushed neediness would be there. For now, he wants to taste you, sampling the rum and Coke from your mouth and groaning when you give him a small whimper.
When you can think again, you’ll be congratulating yourself on what an excellent decision it was to take a chance on this flyboy, because if he’s half as dedicated to fucking you later as he is to kissing you right now, he might actually knock that one night stand from spring break two years ago right out of the top spot in your sexual history book. He tastes like beer and summertime and feels like even more of a wall than the one your back is pressed up against. One arm easily winds its way around his neck, your other hand finding his hip to draw him in closer. Body to body. That’s what you’re craving right now.
Frankie shuffles closer, enjoying the scent of your perfume and the softness of your lips, your body, as he presses you into the wall. Another swipe of his tongue, curling around yours expertly and humming deep in his throat when you moan again. It’s only because he senses a car pull up behind him does he pull away, staring at you as he straightens up. “I think that’s us.” He murmurs, throat slightly raspy with hunger.
“Huh?” There are no thoughts whatsoever in your head for a minute, until you blink heavily and his lips curl into a smirk and you realize you can see him better because a car’s high beams are pointed at you. “Oh. Right.” Nice job, dumb ass. “So am I worth going home with, then?” The tease is right back in place when you shake off the haze and reach for the Uber’s door.
“I knew that the moment you landed in my arms instead of on your ass.” He jokes. “Question is, am I worth taking home?”
“Get in the car, flyboy.” You tell him unequivocally, pulling the door open for both of you. “Or we’re walking.”
He chuckles, very pleased with your sass and throws the driver a grin. “Yes ma’am.” He might have copped a small feel of your ass as you climb into the car, but he was only trying to help you with your sundress.
Not the kind of person to be overly prim, you have no problem staying close to him in the back of the car as it pulls back out onto the main road toward home. The taste of his lingers deliciously, making you want to press your lips together to hold on to the sensation of having his on them. “It’s a quick drive,” you murmur out loud, though you have no idea if you’re telling him or reassuring yourself.
“That’s good.” Frankie shifts towards you, sliding his arm around your shoulders and his other hand settles on your knee. “It’s a good time to tells you how pretty you look.” He murmurs in your ear. Fingers tapping lightly on your skin.
Making out the back of a stranger’s car is bad manners, you remind yourself on repeat when his mouth hangs so near to you that you can almost taste him again. “Pretty enough to eat?” You joke. Well, half-joke.
Frankie knows he’s got you interested. He chuckles against your ear, shifting slightly and drags the hooked end of his nose up your cheek. “It’s a good thing I’m fucking hungry.” He rasps.
“Goddamn.” You could practically melt into this seat, and one of your hands grasps his thigh, nails biting in the material of his pants. “Good.”
His hand slides up, just a few inches. “Yeah?” He hums, making sure that his breath fans over your damp skin. “I can eat your pussy tonight?”
Carefully, your hand creeps higher in his leg to match his advance on you. “Gotta show me what you learned from all those books you snatched.”
His lips brush over the back of your jaw. “Also learned that women like to be seduced right?” His index finger starts drawing a little circle into your skin, working higher on your thigh. “It’s a big part of foreplay. Show them that you want them?”
“Mmhmm.” It’s nearly a whimper, and you nod against him. “Never gonna say no to that.”
“Good.” He slides his fingers up between your thighs, just a bare inch from your covered cunt. “Want to make sure your pussy is dripping when I finally slide inside.”
“Trust me.” When you shift to keep from squirming, your hand on his thigh grips just below the heft of his hardening cock and the side of your hand brushing against it makes you feel like you’re about to see stars despite the fact that he’s barely touched you yet. “That’s not going to be an issue.”
He chuckles again, turning his head when the car starts to slow down. “Are we almost home, beautiful?”
“The next building down.” It’s mostly for the driver, who started pulling up to the wrong apartment complex, but also for the man beside you. The apartment would be spacious for a couple or small family, so for you and your two roommates it’s just right. But you’re prepared to thank every lucky star in the universe that neither of them is home tonight.
Frankie reluctantly pulls away, knowing the two of you will need to get out of the car in order to make it into this apartment of yours. The driver finds the right building and pulls to a stop. He opens the door and steps out, waiting for you to see if you need help. "Thanks for the ride, man."
The car is gone into the night almost as soon as you let yourselves into the front door of the building, and the stairs are blessedly abandoned when you get inside. “It’s just the second floor,” you tell him, motioning to the stairs. “The elevator hasn’t worked in years.”
“That’s no problem.” He shoots you a grin. “There aren’t any elevators in the barracks. Even the officer’s barracks.”
"You boys just get wings on your boots, huh?" You throw him a grin as you head up the stairs in the cramped lobby. "Every bit of sky is yours for the taking."
He chuckles and has to refrain from taking the stairs two at a time. “I mean, yeah.” He huffs. “Nothing like it. Best fucking feeling ever being up there.”
"I think maybe I need to get my ass up in a plane, because I'm pretty sure sex still tops every flight I've ever taken." You meet him on the top step and easily slip your hand into his outstretched one. "Third door on the left, flyboy."
Frankie walks dutifully to the door with your hand in his and stands to the side. Understanding why you let go of his hand, but still pouting slightly as you dig your keys out of your purse. The place is dark when you push inside, and you drop your keys and purse on the side table next to the door as soon as you're through so you can reach for him again. "Home sweet home."
Frankie hums and looks around before he grins at you, wrapping his arms around your body. “Show me your room.”
"This way." There isn't a chance in hell that you're going to move out of his arms. Instead, you go in the complete opposite direction, slipping your arms around his shoulders and pressing your lips to every bit of skin along his neck that you can manage as you tug him toward your bedroom.
Groaning, he remembers to yank his cover off his head and crush it in his hand while he moves with you. Eager to get into that bedroom of yours. It’s been a few weeks since he’s gone home with a girl and he wants to strip you down and make both of you feel incredible.
"Is it some kind of weird treason if all this ends up on my floor?" As soon as the door is shut behind you, you're fumbling blindly for the buttons on his uniform, far too interested into diving into a hungry kiss to actually try to be graceful.
Laughing, he shakes his head and tosses the cover on the floor. “Not at all.” He tells you. “It’s considered patriotic to throw it on the floor.”
"I'm suddenly feeling the most patriotic I've ever been in my life." It feels like his entire uniform is made of buttons though, and your uncoordinated fingers stumble over the obstacles enough times that you pout against his lips. The last thing you want to do is stop kissing him, but you also want to know what he's hiding under all that fabric.
His hands come over yours, stopping you. "Why don't you let me do it?" He asks, smirking at your frustrated grunts and the pout you give him. "That way you can enjoy."
“Fine…” It’s with a deeply dramatic sigh and an immediately playful grin that you relinquish control, letting him take over the pace and exactly what pieces of his uniform will come off when. You kick your sandals off and don’t hesitate to pull your dress over your head, smirking when he is now the one pouting as you back up to climb into your bed.
"Damnit." He hisses, ripping off his blouse and immediately pulling his undershirt off to show off the lean planes of his body. Frankie isn't ripped, God no, but as a twenty-give year old Army officer, he is in pretty fucking decent shape. The shadows of abs was enough for him, he wasn't going to starve or dehydrate himself to fucking achieve that look. Besides, from the hungry look on your face, you don't mind at all.
He's fucking beautiful. Like mouthwateringly perfect, as far as your taste in men. He's broad and strong and his massive hands could probably wrap around your throat or your thighs with equal ease. If you weren't already laying back in a pile of your own pillows with your fingers mere inches from your soaking wet panties, you would already be on your knees in front of him. But the view from where you are is your own personal striptease and you are doing your goddamn best to memorize every detail for masturbation fuel in the future.
"Touch yourself." Frankie orders, voice rough as he starts to unbuckle his belt. He smirks at your surprised expression, and he nods towards your cunt. "You want to touch yourself, do it." He orders again. "Right here. Shove your hands into your panties and touch your swollen little clit for me."
"Fuck." That wasn't at all the response you expected to get from him and your hand dives into your panties faster than you can think and the way you moan at that first touch of your own fingers to your clit makes his eyes go impossibly darker with want.
"Goddamn baby." He hisses, quickly unhooking and unzipping the starched dress pants and dropping them down, kicking them and his shoes off at the same time and leaving him in the black socks and stark white boxers that do nothing to hide the erection that is currently tenting the material. "Feels good, doesn't it?" He coos, eyes fixated on your cloth covered core.
"Gonna be better when it's you." It doesn't take much to shift on the bed, dragging your panties aside with the hand that isn't knuckle deep in your own wet pussy. "Take it all off and get the fuck over here, flyboy. Wanna touch you."
He chuckles and smirks down at you, hooking his thumbs under his boxers. "Yes ma'am." He teases, pushing them down and stripping them off before he stands tall again and lets you get a good look at him fully nude.
"Goddamn, baby." Giving his own words right back to him, you tug your bottom lip between your teeth and groan as your eyes rake up and down the length of his body. You're squirming in place, hips rocking on your own fingers, while you take in the sight of his thick cock already beaded with precum just begging to split you open.
Winking cockily, Frankie knows that you are eager. Kneeling on the bed and wrapping his fingers around your ankle to tug it slightly closer. Pulling you towards him as he crawls up to join you. “Like something you see, pretty girl?”
"Have a feeling I'm gonna fuckin love something I see." Fuckin love or love fucking - both are entirely true. He brings you closer, making it easier for you to lean in and nip at his bottom lip. "Gonna let me ride that cock after you eat my pussy?"
His lips chase yours for another kiss while his cock bounces against your inner thigh. "After your legs are up on my shoulders and I make you cum all over my cock." He promises, nipping back at your lip playfully, loving the fact that you like to use your teeth.
"So many big plans." Pouring a groan into his mouth, you let the kiss turn hungry for a long moment. It's a gorgeous distraction for just as long as it takes to drag your fingers out of your own slick and wrap them around his length.
Grunting into your mouth, he twitches under your touch, enjoying the firm grip you have around him. His own hands reaching for your panties, tearing them in his eagerness to get to your cunt. The ripping of the fabric making him grunt again.
The feeling of that fabric ripping against your skin - the sound of it, too - makes you absolutely whimper into his needy kiss. “Fucking hell, baby. Touch me. Please.” You beg, blindly searching for his hands to push at least one of them towards where you need him most.
The next chuckle is dirty, bordering slightly mocking as he starts to kiss down your jaw and nips your pulse sharp enough to make you gasp. His fingers don't give in, instead he spreads them, cupping your bare cunt and covering it with his palm. "Is someone needy?" He coos, teasing you with a little lick at the hollow of your throat before biting your collar bone and moving down another few inches.
“I’ll wrap my fingers around your cock again and we’ll both be needy,” you shoot back, laughing despite how badly your body is singing with desire.
"Baby, I'm gonna be needy until I'm balls deep inside this tight, hot little pussy." He murmurs, smirking up at you before kitten lick the tip of one breast before he wraps his lips around it.
The way you keen is messy and needy in all the best ways, and your head falls back on the pillow behind you. The only nuisance is that he doesn’t have any hair to speak of for you to run your fingers through or grab onto, leaving you to rake your fingernails against the base of his skull encouragingly as you moan for him. He loves the way your nipple responds. Tightening under his tongue as he drags it over it. Scraping his teeth across the firm peak and sucking it back in his mouth to tease it some more. Groaning around it before he pulls off with a wet pop and switches over to the other.
If somebody were at home besides the two of you, they would already be pounding on the door in annoyance at how vocal the two of you are together. Every sound that comes out of him is heavenly sin - egging you on and encouraging you to meet his enthusiasm. Not that you need the help, already panting and moaning under him as though you'd been starved of intimacy for years.
Frankie nudges at your breast, pushing at it as he sucks, enjoying the way you whimper and scratch at his head. Trying to pull him closer and push him down to where you need him all at the same time. He loves a woman who’s responsive, who’s nearly feral for his touch.
He keeps at your tits until you’re nearly growling, and the low chuckle he gives before starting to trail his mouth southward again has you on the edge of sanity. He practically has you about to cum just sucking on your tits, you might melt into the bed once he finally sets that tongue to work on your cunt.
His tongue dips into your navel, showing you exactly what his plan for your aching little hole is. He flicks his tongue deep and laves around his generously, lips twisted upward when your legs lift and your heels dig into his shoulder blades.
“Go ahead and gloat, flyboy.” You’ve always been the kind of person to have a sense of humor about sex, and especially when it’s something like this. He has every right to feel good about how worked up he’s gotten you, and he’s clearly enjoying the affect he has on you. That’s all a part of pleasure, in your opinion.
He chuckles and bites at the swell of belly over your mound, scraping his still smooth cheeks against it before he slides down again. "Not gloating." He hums, winking at you. "Just enjoying myself." He turns his head and kisses one thigh and then turns his head the opposite direction to kiss the other. "I like a woman who's playful and needy in bed." He confesses before he flattens his tongue and makes the first pass over your clit.
“Fuck!” He takes you by surprise, and your head nearly hits the headboard when it drops back, making you giggle. When that giggle turns into another moan, your fingernails find his scalp again with ease. “H—hopefully loud, too. Shit, baby.”
He just is moaning into your cunt in answer, burrowing his tongue deeper as his vocalizations resonate into your skin. He loves how loud you are, wants you to be louder for him. To give him everything you've got and fall apart. His hands spread your thighs wider, letting him reach more of you with unabashed enthusiasm.
Every word out of your mouth is the highest praise, every sound is pure sin that spurs him on in his quest to bring you the most pleasure he possibly can. His tongue is just as good - maybe even better - on your weeping cunt as it was weaving sinful promises in your ear earlier and the Army needs to invent a medal for pussy eating right away.
You taste incredible. Tangy and musky, making. him lick and suck on your folds, nibble on the lip of your cunt and groan when he plunges his tongue into your velvety softness and lets it slide through the fresh slick leaking from you. Pushing your hips back, lifting your legs up off his back so he delves deeper and spear his tongue upside you to curl up.
That tingling sensation that rolls through your entire body, sparking nerves out to the very tips of your fingers and toes and taking any possible sense of restraint you had with it. The rambling, cursing, barely coherent warning you manage to eek out before you cum the first time is punctuated by a cry of his name - the first time you’ve actually used it all night – but he has absolutely earned the plaintive wail of “Fuck, Frankie!” When you fall apart for him.
Hearing you, feeling you start to cum just makes Frankie double down. His tongue flicking and his jaw aching but he continues to eat you like a starved man. Groaning into you while his hips shift subtly against the bed, grinding against it for friction while his mouth is flooded with your essence.
If it was destined to be a one-orgasm night, it would still be a really fucking excellent night. Fortunately for both of you it absolutely won't be - but the boneless way you fall back into your pillows again after having arched off the bed speaks to exactly how hard you just came for him. "Jesus fuckin Christ." An indulgent, filthy giggle bubbles up out of you when he doesn't let up right away. "You're gonna kill me, baby."
He chuckles, pulling away and giving your clit a few slow, lazy licks as he watches you recover. You’re gorgeous this way and he admires the way your tits rise and fall. Slapping the outside of your thigh, he raises a brow. “Want another before I fuck you?” He offers.
It's such a loaded question, because you desperately want to cum as many times as he'll let you, but you aren't the only person in this bed right now. "Still want to ride you, gorgeous. If I cum that hard again on your tongue, I might not be able to make my legs work afterward."
Frankie grunts a small gawf and nods, lifting up to his knees and sliding off the bed. “Let me get a condom out of my wallet, then.” He wanted to keep you safe as well as himself, grabbing the pants off the floor and fishing his wallet out. The shiny foil packet in hand, he gives you a triumphant grin.
"Love a man that shows up prepared." You grin at him, crooking one finger to beckon him back into your bed. Of course you have condoms stashed in your nightstand but it's nice to see someone else stepping up to the plate of responsibility.
“Boy Scout.” He quips and climbs back into the bed with you. “Now….” He puts the edge of the foil packet in his teeth and rips it open. “I think I promised you an orgasm with your legs up on my shoulders while you cum all over my cock.”
"Shoulders like those were made to be leg rests," you tell him with a grin, managing to steal a kiss after he's tossed the foil packet in the general direction of your trash can.
Frankie bites his lip, rolling the rubber down his length and pumping himself a few times before he caresses your legs. Pulling them up onto his shoulder and shuffling forward to slide the head of his cock through your folds. “Ready?”
"Shit yes." If it would do you any good to grasp at him or push closer, you would. But from this angle and with one of his big hands grasping your legs, all you can really do is squirm. "Come on, baby. Fill me up."
He teases your clit for another pass before he lined up, the head of his cock pushing against the soft entrance to your body and keeps his eyes on you while he slowly sinks in.
If you hadn’t been dripping wet from the second he kissed you, it definitely would been a pinch to take all of him, being as thick as he is. Now, though, Frankie is fully seated to the hilt in your hot cunt with almost nothing more than a lazy roll of his hips, making you whimper and moan under him happily as he shifts into the exact position he wants.
Frankie’s fingers stroke your legs gently, almost tenderly as he waits for your body to relax. Letting him lean down and fold your legs over as he stretches his jaw and manages to plant a tiny kiss on your lips. His dog tags hang around his neck, dangling between you. “Want to hear you.” He reminds you softly, before he abruptly pulls his hips back and slams back into your cunt.
Volume isn’t exactly a problem, but the way he pushes the breath out of your lungs on that second powerful thrust means it’s a strangled moan that pours from your lips instead of more teasing words. One of your hands grasps for his hip when he plows into you again and the other paws at your own tits, twisting your nipple with the perfect to almost be painful alongside the pleasure.
The steady, hard thwacks of his hips against your thighs fills the room, along with the gasps and groans from the two of you. You are fucking tight like this, squeezing his cock before your walls ever clench in pleasure. “F-f-fuuuuck.” He hisses, each syllable accompanying another swing of his hips.
“God — fuck — feel so good, baby.” If he wants to hear you, you’ll damn well make sure that what he’s hearing is complimentary and true. “So fucking deep, oh my god —”
“Yeah?” He pants out, keeping up the brutal pace and making sure that each thrust bottoms out. One hand reaches your and squeezes your tit. “Want more?”
“Every — oh fuck—” A particularly punishing thrust shoves you further up you bed and you have to reach up to keep from knocking your head against the headboard of your bed. “Everything you got, flyboy.”
Frankie flashes you a grin, wicked and promising. “Roger.” If you had thought he was giving you his all, you were sorely mistaken. His dog tags swing wildly and beat against his chest while he ramps up his pace.
If you had thought about anything besides how fucking good his cock feels shredding up inside you for just half a second, you would have realized that you were issuing an accidental challenge. Now you can’t do anything but hang on for the ride, so to speak, and throw both hands over your head to avoid banging your head, and give him every ounce of vocal encouragement that he is definitely earning.
He absorbs your sounds, greedy for each one. Even stretching down to kiss you again. Steadily pounding into you before he slides his hand down to thumb at your clit.
You might shake apart with the force of the orgasm you can feel building, but you will happily give in to it. The wave that crashes through you has you practically squealing, with his name as the only word to be understood in all the praises and rambling as you fall apart underneath him.
Frankie doesn’t fuck you through it. Instead he lets your legs slide down into the crooks of his elbows so he can hover closer. Breath mingling with yours while he slowly grinds himself into your grasping and fluttering little hole. “Good girl.” He coos. “Fuck, you feel so good baby.”
“So good.” With him this close you can grasp his dog tags like a collar and meet him halfway for a messy, enthusiastic kiss. “Can’t wait to hear how gorgeous you scream my name when you cum.”
His chuckle is low and raspy, making him stop moving and focus on kissing you, still buried in your cunt.
It’s tricky to do when he’s completely overwhelming your senses, but you rock your hips with his and tighten your legs at his sides to roll him into his back with a victorious grin. “Your turn to enjoy,” you promise him, nipping at his lips while you roll figure 8s on his lap with his cock deep inside you at a whole new angle.
“God.” He doesn’t know what to grab. Your hips, your tits, his hands are everywhere. Pinching your nipples and cupping the soft flesh, while watching, alternating between your tits, your face, and the tiny space where he can see his cock disappearing inside you.
“That’s it, baby.” You hum, tossing your head back to let your tits stand out as you start to rise and fall on his length. “Feels so fucking big like this.”
His feet dig into the downy comfort of your bed, bracing them so that his can jerk his hips up. Driving up into you from the bottom and push deeper when you sit back down on his cock. "You like it." He huffs, pushing your tits together and flicking the peaked tips.
“Fucking love it.” There’s no way you’re about to deny that, especially not with the perfect way he’s got his hands on you right now. Every time you bounce on his cock his hands squeeze your tits a little tighter, and each tweak of your aching nipples is fantastic.
"Good." He huffs, biting his lip and trying to control his body as it reacts to the drag of your cunt in this position. Despite you cumming already, he wants you to cum again. Needs to see it before he gives in to his own need. "Look so good riding my cock." He pants out. "So fucking good."
Each time he bottoms out inside you, you swirl your hips in his lap, rocking downward to give you more momentum to bounce up again, and the combination has both of you moaning and panting unashamedly. You can’t remember the last time it felt this good to have someone inside you, and to be honest you might be a little bummed in the morning when he takes off never to be seen again. But at least tonight is fucking amazing.
"Fuck." He slaps your tit lightly and lets go, gripping your hips and rocking up into you again. Watching your heavy-lidded eyes as they flutter and your own hands drift over your skin. You look fucking amazing on top of him, he wasn't lying about that. "Come on baby, cum again." He coos. "You know you want to."
“Want me to — oh god, squeeze that thick cock, baby?” That’s all the encouragement you need for your hand to drift down to your cunt, fingertips rubbing tight circles on your clit that make you cry out into the dark night.
“Fuuuuuuuuck.” He hisses, gritting his teeth when you start to squeeze him. Both hands on your hips while you freeze over him, body locked up in pleasure and he thrusts up into you wildly now. “Fuck, fuck, fuck baby.” He growls, staring at you while his own orgasm starts to build up. “Fuck, gonna cum.”
“Fuck yes, cum for me.” He’s going to look spectacular as he falls apart, you just know it, and the hand that isn’t rapidly stroking your swollen clit reaches down to rake your blunted fingernails down his chest.
Frankie shudders, shouting out and starts to cum. Gripping your hips in a bruising hold, he surges up into you one last time. Gasping and moaning your name while he spills into the condom.
“Fuck, Frankie!” The combination of sensations is too good, and another orgasm rips through you like wildfire. Shaking with it, your cunt clenches down in his length even harder, milking every last drop of cum from him until you feel like you’re about to black out from the pleasure. “Oh my fucking god. So good.” You whine, panting for breath as the aftershocks finally start to subside.
Frankie grunts, pulling you down against his chest while he slowly grinds up into you. Finally just throbbing inside you as he strokes your back. “Holy shit.” He pants, feeling euphoric and exhausted.
“Right?” You can’t help giggling, the ethereal feeling swimming in your body making you feel light as air as you reach to kiss him.
“Yeah.” He chuckles, looking up at the ceiling when you kiss his jaw and hum. “Aren’t you glad I caught you?” He teases playfully.
“Goddamn right I am.” You agree without hesitation and rest your head on his chest. “This was the perfect way to thank you for it.”
He can’t disagree with you. He lifts his head slightly, kissing the top of yours.
“You…do you…wanna stay?” Heavy sleepiness is quickly setting into your body, but you’ll fight to stay awake long enough to drive him back to wherever if that’s what he wants. You would just as soon wake up beside him in the morning and maybe go one more round before having to say goodbye to him.
“Yeah.” Frankie has zero desire to return to his room at the barracks. It didn’t matter that officer’s didn’t have to share; it was still a barracks room. He kisses your head again. “But I got get rid of this condom first.” He murmurs. “You got a trash can in here, or bathroom?”
“Next to the bed.” You vaguely point to your right - his left - where your nightstand is and sigh quietly, happy that the little bubble of perfection you found tonight won’t be bursting too soon.
He smirks when you refuse to peel yourself off of him for a few more moments. Finally huffing and lifting off his cock while he holds the base of the condom so he can roll over and take it off. He huffs, always hating this part of condoms, tying it off and taking one step to put it in the trash before he climbs back in the bed. “Now you can lay back on me.” He promises, dragging you closer again.
“You’re comfy.” And you aren’t the least bit ashamed to acknowledge that, cuddling up to his chest again like a clingy cat after he shuts off the light.
“Hmmm, good.” He doesn’t even deny that he likes the warmth of you on him. His hand strokes your back slowly as you settle and sighs softly. “‘Night, beautiful.”
“G’night, sexy.” The smile on your lips will last until morning without fail, and hopefully your dreams will just be a replay of what you did in this bed before passing out.
******
Being in the military means that no matter how much he drinks, how tired he is, come zero six hundred - he’s awake. He’s actually been awake for half an hour, watching you sleep, curled into his side. You have this cute little pout and he figures you will be mortified when you learn you drooled on him. Except now, he’s gotta pee and he’s about to die of thirst. Slowly shifting, he carefully moves you so that you don’t wake up, allowing him to slide out of the bed.
There’s movement in the kitchen, the smell of coffee and cinnamon wafting through the apartment, and quiet chatting that pauses temporarily when a door creaks open and shut. “You’re up early!” A voice calls out, with clear teasing lining the comment. “Figured you’d sleep in after the porno you lived last night.”
He’s glad that he swiped his boxers up and put them on. He hadn’t expected to run into your roommates this early, but he just gives a shrug of his shoulders. Shit like this happens every once in a while. Instead of hiding or slipping into the bathroom and going back to your room, Frankie walks into the kitchen. “She’s still asleep.”
“Oh!” The petite blonde clutching her coffee cup bursts out into an embarrassed giggle and so does the redhead with her. Their jaws are practically on the ground, though, and they give each other an impressed glance. “Uh…hi! Coffee?”
“I’d kill for some.” Frankie flashes them a grateful smile, not at all embarrassed to be standing in front of them with nothing but his boxers and his dog tags on. He had routinely showered with thirty other men and shit in stalls with no doors in OCS, this was a piece of cake. “And a cup for her?” He asks, stepping further into the kitchen. “I don’t know how she drinks it.”
“Black.” The red headed girl grabs two mugs from the cupboard and hands them off to the blonde to be filled. “So…you guys sounded like you had fun…” The two girls exchange smirks that are meant to cover looks of concern.
“She’s still alive.” He promises, smirking slightly as he watches the blonde pour the coffee. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”
“We’ll call you an Uber if it was just a one-night thing for you.” The blonde tells him matter-of-factly, as she sets two full coffee mugs down on the kitchen island. “She’s just…she’s been on the receiving end of a lot of bullshit lately, so if you’re not into her it’s easier if you just go.” The protective, sister-like energy is strong with these two, and it’s obvious they’re not trying to be rude. They just care about you.
If he’s irritated by the nosiness of the roommate, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he picks up a cup of coffee, the smaller one, and takes a sip. “Would be a shitty thing to do.” He comments are that first sip. “To just slink off. I’m not that kind of man.”
“Good.” That seems to mollify her, and she nods. “In that case the bathroom’s the next door on the right and there are cinnamon rolls about to come out of the oven.”
He grins and sends her a small wink, setting down the coffee. “Happy I passed the test.” He tells her. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll use the bathroom and then bring her that coffee.”
The second he’s gone, your roommates look at each other with what can only be described as awe, and stifle some shared laughter. “Oh my god she wasn’t kidding…he’s…gorgeous.”
Frankie uses the bathroom, washes his hands and comes back out to go back into the kitchen. The giggling stops again, and he just picks up the coffee mugs and throws them both a knowing smirk. “I would probably play some music or something.” He warns them with a wink before he trots back down the hallway.
“We’re leaving for work!” They call back, and he can hear the sound of a metal tray clanging on its way out of the oven as your bedroom door shuts behind him.
Frankie chuckles, seeing you starfished across the bed and he sets down the coffee cups on the dresser. It wasn’t something that the two of you had talked about, so he decides that waking you up with oral isn’t a good idea. Instead, he crawls back in the bed and manages to nudge you over so he can stretch out beside you.
“Mmmm…” From the edges of your fading dream, you can feel a hand stroke your back and you sigh right before your eyes open. “Morning…”
“Morning.” Frankie hums, keeping his hands solely on your back instead of drifting to other, more interesting places. “I have coffee for you.”
“Sexy and thoughtful.” You snuggle closer to him for a second before your eyes pop open in dismay. “My roommates came home last night, didn’t they?”
“Sorry.” Frankie winces, hearing your unhappy tone. Maybe you didn’t want them to know? Even if you had called from the bar. “I can get a ride and take off.”
“God, were they that bad?” Fully awake now, you tuck a blanket around your body and look up his frown with concern. “They just tend to get a little…protective. I was going to apologize if they said something rude when I wasn’t there to tell them to knock it off.” Of course, they were only that way because of the shitty luck you had had with guys you brought home, and you so very much don’t want Frankie to end up as just one more of those guys.
“No, they were fine.” He promises. “I just figured you weren’t too happy they knew you brought someone home.”
“No, no, nothing like that.” You shake your head adamantly. “I’m glad you’re here and I don’t give a fuck who knows it. The reason I asked them to give us privacy last night was so I could be as loud as I wanted without them giving me shit about keeping them up. Because they both work this morning. That’s all.”
“They said they’re leaving for work.” He hums, mollified that you don’t want him to leave. He leans in and drags his nose across your cheek. “So, we’ll be alone again.”
“Coffee can wait.” The decision comes with a deep hum, and you easily wrap your arm around his waist to drag him under the covers with you.
“Thought about waking you up with my tongue.” He confesses, kissing along your jaw. “But I didn’t know how you would react to that.”
“Next time.” He nudges you over onto your back and you nearly purr at the early morning affection. The offer is really just a hopeful one. Hopeful that this morning won’t be the least you see of him. “Next time, you definitely should.”
“Yeah?” He nibbles on your collar bone and hums happily. “I can do that.” He slides his hand down to slot between your thighs. “Could always pretend you are asleep right now.”
You grin, giggling a little as you immediately shut your eyes and slump back in your pillows dramatically. “Who’s pretending? I’m totally still asleep,” you tease.
“Good girl.” Frankie grins and ducks his head under the covers, moving his way quickly down your body and gently pries your legs apart like he’s trying not to wake you.
Two of your favorite words, but you don’t say a thing as he shifts you into the position he wants. Being woken up like this is one of those things that you never have asked for or suggested, especially because you have a track record of picking guys that don’t stick around for long.
“Fuck.” He groans quietly at the sight of your swollen and puffy lips, slick from the nights activities and fresh arousal coat your skin and he hums. “Someone’s have naughty dreams.” He teases quietly, bumping your clit with his nose before he kitten licks it softly.
You can’t help humming a little, letting the sound be something like a non-communal sleeping sound as best as you can. You had had very naughty dreams about all the things you wanted him to do to you - or you to him - and you’re already about to check one off the list. What’s not to love? He chuckles, kissing your lips and starts to softly press the flat of his tongue against your folds. Gently treating your cunt like it is the most delicate treat, completely opposite from his treatment of you last night.
A soft, indulgent sigh parts your lips and you swear you melt a little deeper into the mattress with pure relaxation. He's as gentle as a spring sunrise this morning and when you shift underneath him it's akin to the stretching of a lazy cat instead of the frantic, needy squirming of last night. His tongue flutters and softly flicks over your swollen folds, groaning slightly and urging your thighs open a little more. Still pleased with how well you are playing at being asleep as he gathers your clit in his mouth to suck softly.
Not wanting to ruin the game, you swallow a whimper and keep your eyes shut tight. As much as you want to hear him growl his approval at your fingernails on his scalp again, letting him enjoy and explore so gently is its own kind of beautiful.
This is everything that last night wasn’t and yet it doesn’t feel any less or more. It just feels like another layer of this time with you. The contrasts match so beautifully. He moans quietly, sliding his shoulder to the side so he can ease two fingers into you.
There's no way to mask this moan, or the way your hips lift off the bed ever so slightly to go along with the motion of his hands. If you weren't awake before you most certainly would be now, and the feeling of Frankie's thick fingers stretching you out so lazily is amazing.
He hums, pleased at your reaction and he pulls his lips away from your clit with a soft pop. “‘Morning.” He teases before he resumes his ministrations.
"Good--" As soon as he dives back in, the phrase is broken by a plaintive sigh. "Fuck, morning, baby." As frantic, needy, and desperate as the two of you were last night, this morning is nothing but lazy and indulgent and it is absolutely glorious.
He chuckles and curls his fingers up slowly, deliberately. “Want you to cum for me, again.” He murmurs, tracing his name into your cunt with his tongue.
"Yes – fuck – yes, sir." He's like an expert musician, plucking the strings of your pleasure to absolute perfection without really even needing to practice.
Frankie gets call ‘sir’. Due to his rank, he gets called sir at least a hundred times a day. But the way you say it has him moaning, his fingers sharpening their curl just a bit and the hand on your hip gets tighter, like the way that sounds coming out of your mouth.
“Oh fuck, that’s it, baby — gonna cum!” For as gentle as he has been, it’s still like a freight train. Rolling through every inch of your body with the same power that last night’s demanding pace had, except this time it almost makes you float. It’s like Frankie’s fingers and tongue are keeping you afloat in his very own ocean of pleasure and why in the hell would you ever want to be anywhere else.
He growls in pleasure. Happy that you are nearly bowing up off the bed in pleasure and he slowly works you through it. Wringing your body if every ounce of pleasure it can gleam from his tongue. “Fucking hell, Frankie,” you pant, grasping at breaths as he slowly lets you down again off the cloud-like pillow of bliss.
Chuckling, he kisses your clit one last time and crawls back up the bed to lay down beside you, throwing a leg over yours. “Good?”
“Good?” The incredulity in your voice is marked by a throaty laugh. “Yeah, flyboy. Extremely good.”
“Well, the old motto of the Army is ‘Be All That You Can Be’.” He jokes
“You’re doing amazing, baby.” You promise him with a chuckle. “When…um, when do you have to be back?” It’s a Sunday and you know fuck all about what an average day in the military is like, but all you really want to know is how much longer you’ll get to savor having him right here beside you.
“Flight training at zero five thirty on Monday. So, I can’t drink tonight.” He explains, thinking you might want to go back to the bar.
“That’s fine.” Tipping your head back so your chin rests on his chest, you crack a smile that warms through your whole body despite being nervous at the question. “Does that mean you might want to hang out today?” He could easily have told you he had plans or obligations, but he didn’t, and you can feel the hope swell in your chest.
He pauses for a moment before a slow smile slides across his face. “I think that would be fun.” He tells you, sliding his hands up and down your back. “Your roommates said there were cinnamon rolls, but we could always go get breakfast, swing by base and grab a set of civvies for me.”
“What are your feelings on shared showers?” The sparkle in his gorgeous brown eyes reads as delight and you can feel a rabble of butterflies erupt in your belly. “There’s a new diner on Main Street that I’ve been dying to try. My treat.”
He huffs and pokes his lip out at you. “Now my momma would beat me if I let a lady pay the morning after.” He tells you with a grin.
"You're gonna let me pay for something eventually." You tell him in a tone that brokers no protests, but the sunny grin on your face says it's not a serious matter in the least and you lean in just barely to kiss the pout off his perfect lips. "Is that a yes?"
“Maybe.” He concedes, with his own grin on his lips. “Why don’t we try to share that shower and then we will see where today takes us.” He offers, feeling like he is asking something more serious than just a day after a one-night stand.
Sitting up beside him in your own bed, with your sheets disheveled and his gorgeous face looking up at you from a pile of pillows, you reach out to brush your thumb along his jaw and smile harder than you possibly ever have in your life. "Wherever that is? I hope it's someplace worth talking about."
Frankie smirks, sending you a playful wink. “You’re with a flyboy.” He quips. “Of course, wherever it is will be cloud nine.”
______
Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @spideysimpossiblegirl
#Pedro Pascal#Pedro Pascal character fanfiction#Pedro Pascal fanfic#Frankie Catfish Morales#Frankie Morales#Frankie Catfish Morales x reader#Frankie Catfish Morales x you#Francisco catfish Morales x reader#Triple Frontier#Triple Frontier fanfic#young Frankie Morales#1.5k followers#follower milestone fic#follower milestone celebration!#meet cute#bar pick up#flirting with literature
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My version of flirting is looking at someone I find attractive multiple times and hoping they're braver than me.
#flirting#eye contact#romantic academia#art#love language#vintage aesthetic#dark academia#literature#poetry#love#light academia#romanticism#love quotes#spilled ink#lovers#escapism#music#tumblr writers#academia#social media#txt post#tumblr crush#looking at you#writersclub#chaotic academia#love life
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no because like the moment where peeta and katniss were going back and forth fighting about the other being talented/a strong contender for the Games is so great because katniss was exposing the fact that she pays attention to what peeta does/says "peeta is so strong and he can lift big sacks of flour and he has big arms!!" and peeta's like "yeah well my mom said you were more likely to win than me, and you don't know the effect you can have on people" and katniss's oblivious ass is like "tf does he mean idk what effect i have on ppl is he talking abt how ppl hate me so much omg" and then in the corner is just a Live Haymitch Reaction
this is probably where haymitch got the idea for peeta to pull the star crossed lovers strategy out because they were literally both acting like children with very obvious crushes on one another and they were so blatant and unserious about it
#they were literally arguing about who's more impressive and better and like aggressively complimenting each other like these idiots were NOT#it gives 'she thinks they're sworn enemies he thinks they're flirting' energy#the hunger games#katniss x peeta#everlark#katniss everdeen#peeta mellark#haymitch abernathy#otp: dandelion in the spring#movies#art & literature#anna speaks
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When he calls me "cute" but user510007383 said: "I hope the light at the end of the tunnel holds a silhouette of you - for there is no afterlife worth living without your embrace."
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Jesper ran a finger up Wylan's forearm, and Wylan flushed a vibrant pink. Matthias couldn't help but sympathize with the boy. He knew what it was to be out of your depth, and he sometimes suspected they could forgo all of Kaz's planning and simply let Jesper and Nina flirt the entirety of Ketterdam into submission.
-Matthias Helver
#quotes#book quotes#literature#books & libraries#relationship quotes#flirting#leigh bargudo#grishaverse#crooked kingdom#matthias helvar#nina zenik#jesper fahey#wylan van eck#wesper
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'What are my duties?'
'The normal ones,' I said. 'You have to save me.'
'You need saving?'
'I do.' . . .
'And after I save you? Then what?'
'Well, then I'll owe you.'
'What will I get?'
I shrugged. 'Whatever you want. You saved my life, after all. I'll even be brave and swim across the sea to see you if you ask.'
'Who says I'll be there when you get there, waiting for you?'
'I'll wait for you, then,' I said. 'I'll wait on my knees at your doorstep until you come home.'
Katherine Lin, from You Can't Stay Here Forever
#if you are not too long i will wait here for you all my life#witty banter#flirting#waiting for you#steadfast#devotion#romance novel inspo#fanfic inspo#quotes#lit#words#excerpts#quote#literature#katherine lin#you can't stay here forever
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Mr. Knightley's Guide to Winning Over the Woman You Love
Mr. Knightley to Mrs. Weston: "Emma has always been the cleverest and prettiest of the family."
A few chapters later...
Mr. Knightley to Emma: "It is better to be without wits than apply them as you do, Emma!"
#jane austen#jane austen memes#emma woodhouse#mr. knightley#emma 2009#the superior emma adaptation#romola garai#jonny lee miller#best flirting ever#classic literature#literature#regency#george knightley#19th century
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c/o dreambabypress - instagram. Original list by Daniel M. Lavery.
#flirting headaches#letter reading fits#drawing room anguish#ship infidelity#these are amazing#things women in literature have died from#dreambabypress#daniel m. lavery#literature#classic literature
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This is my first story to post on here! I plan on posting more chapters but it can also be found on Wattpad under the same username :3 please let me know if you like it!! I need constructive criticism!
Red String Of Fate [Alastor X Reader] pt.1
Every night at 7pm when your work ended, Alastor would be there, to walk you home. Even though you assumed Alastor had always seen you as possibly a younger sister, even he couldn't deny that you were one of the more beautiful young ladies in New Orleans. He worried about your safety, so everyday he made it his personal mission that no matter where he was, he would always be there to walk you home, he liked to know you were safe. This night however on the walk home, he surprised you with a bottle of whiskey. You both spent most nights together; laughing, exchanging silly stories, mildly abusing each other. On your travels home you decided to stop at the lake, the lightning bugs danced in front of you while you sat and adored them. Minutes turned into hours and it was now long past 10pm, the bottle now nearly empty. It was June 3rd, 1931. The summer heat coating both of your skin in a heavy layer. You sat together on the edge of a dock, drunk out of your minds. The air was warm, almost sticky. The aphonic atmosphere surrounding the two of you. The only light coming from a small lantern he hung from the aged wood boat post at the end of the dock. The wood was damp from the air but strangely enough soft underneath both of you.. You wore your waitressing outfit, a knee length dress with a button up bust, white in color, scratchy in material, with an apron tied loosely around your waist. Even though you both were adults, only three years apart in age, to any passerby's you both sounded like a bunch of giddy teenagers. The drunken giggling and joking to be heard from the surrounding houses. After a moment of giggling and soft sighs, you both rested your backs down against the wilted wood. Your hair was long and pooled underneath you, probably getting hooked in the pieces of decaying wood. Alastor laid to your right, wearing a white button up, his chestnut brown hair falling against his forehead as he relaxed on his back, his legs hanging over the edge of the dock, shoes just gracing the surface of the water. Your dizzy, drunken minds took a moment of silence, admiring the beauty of the stars above. So quiet between you two that all you could hear was the buzz of insects and the breeze in the low hanging trees. After a few moments of enjoying the stars and stillness, Alastor decided to break the peace, his tone soft, only slightly slurred.
"Why do you still work at that shoddy place anyways?" He turned on his side to look at you better, to hear your response. He held his head up with his elbow, a curious smile on his face as he looked at you. When you looked back at him, you could only see his golden silhouette from the lantern flame flickering behind him. The rim of his glasses being illuminated. In this light you remembered why you had been so in love with him ever since you both were young, his toothy smile always found a way to warm your heart. He took a deep breath before speaking again, "It seems like every day it gets worse and worse there. You know you can just live with Mom and I." He offered genuinely, a tone in his voice where you knew he meant his words. Alastor met you when you were young, when you were 10, your parents died shortly after in the following year. Alastor's mother, Adelaide, was a close friend of your late mother's. She took you in as your own the best she could, if a heart could be crafted in the heavens, it would be hers. Since then you had worked hard, not going to school and working almost everyday, living in your parents home, trying to stay afloat. Alastor and his mother had always done so much for you, as nice as it would be to live with Alastor, you couldn't possibly accept such an offer. Alastor could see it in your face, you were preparing to decline his generous offer again. As you opened your mouth to speak, he cut you off quickly. "Before you say no, just... think about it. It could be so fun, you could quit that meaningless job and you know Mum would love having you around. She asks about you all the time." His words were so truthful with a drop of disappointment. Still propped up on his elbow he turned his head from you and looked into the water, the moonlight glistening on the water surface. The water rippled occasionally from frogs jumping in every other moment, or the midge flies resting on the water surface.
You sat up a bit, matching his pose. "I can't possibly take more from you like that, you both have been so helpful towards me already. I wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for you. Besides, the restaurant isn't so bad..." You spoke to him, still looking into his eyes as he looked away, the sparkle of the lantern made his brown eyes glow a bit golden, his tan skin only shone in a sliver from the silhouette of light behind him. His kind smile was now faded, your heart sunk at the sight.
"That place is 'so bad' actually. You barely get paid and just from the things you've told me about those disgusting male customers, I wish you would never step foot in that building again." He whispered out the final words of his sentence with some venom laced in the tone.
You giggled at his comment, you were always so kind to customers they often mistook that kindness for opportunity to harass you while in uniform. You secretly loved telling Alastor the stories of the baffling things men would say to you on a regular basis, enjoying when he would get protective or jealous. You let out a soft sigh, still smiling at him. "Oh its fine, they're harmless." You replied, "Besides, the nastier the customer, the better they tip!" You used your free hand to shove his shoulder playfully, trying to bring his smile back. "In all seriousness, I do appreciate the offer.. but you know I can't accept that."
He suspired, returning his gaze back to you, a smile creeping back onto his face, his dimples being visible in the gentle light. "If your argument is that we have already done so much, why not just accept one more helping? Mom's been wanting to give you a job at the bakery, you'd make so much more money there... and there wouldn't be any men hitting on you~." He said with a smile, the words still slurring from the whiskey, a light blush on his cheeks from the heat from the alcohol. His words made you roll your eyes back at him, you both laid on your sides facing each other, propping yourselves up to meet each others gaze.
"Come on, you know I cannot possibly accept another handout.." You said, your voice had a bit of sadness in it, ever since your parents died at age 11, you felt like everyone had babied you. You learned to hate the feeling of being helpless and weak. Now at the age of 22, it felt like you were in control. No more people making meals for you and leaving them at your doorstep, besides Alastor's mother of course.
"I know you're stubborn. That's all I know about you." Alastor said, winking at you playfully. Although he blatantly flirted with you on various occasions, you were so engaged with the thought of Alastor seeing you as a little sister it never registered. You scoffed and rolled your eyes in response to Alastor's wink.
"I am not stubborn. I think I've done quite well for myself this far, thank you very much!" You said in playfully offended voice. You still grinned at Alastor, then continued, "I'm thankful to have you and your mother as family. You both have already done so much, you know I'm forever thankful for that." You said, whispering out the last part of your sentence. A genuine smile on your face, but when looking at Alastor's smile you noticed that his smile faltered quickly, but returned to its full capacity within seconds.
"Oh, yes... family." He nodded with his words, sighing quietly afterward. He cleared his throat before he spoke, "Alright now, I think its time for me to get you home now, don't you think?" He said, a smidge of defeat in his voice, he turned himself over, pulling his knees to his chest to support himself as he stood up next to you. Your eyes followed his movements slowly, your relaxed eye line meeting his ankles as he now stood over top of you. "Come on, Mon Chéri." He extended his hand out to you, his fingers spread as an offer to lift you off the pier. You looked up at him with a confused expression, it seemed early for you both to turn in for the night. You looked up at the moon and realized its position. You figured it was close to midnight and shrugged, agreeing to leave with alastor with your gesture. His words sounded playful, as they normally did. But there was a different dissatisfaction in his voice that always confused you. Without further understanding, you swung your arm up to interlock hands with him, accepting his help off the damp wood. You wrapped your fingers around his wrist, him doing the same to yours. After you placed your heels underneath yourself steadily, standing next to Alastor. He looked down at you with a knee-weakening smile.
Looking down at your outfit, you patted your clothes off. The pier collected moss and some mild pond scum which left a bit of a mess on your work dress. The heat from the whiskey still tinting your cheeks and making your head spin ever so lightly. His hand hovered over your elbow as you examined your exterior, not letting his arm rest until he could see for himself your balance being steady. Now, feeling a bit dizzy but sober enough to walk a straight line, you exhaled and returned Alastor's gaze, looking upwards into his face. For a moment it felt like all of New Orleans seemed to quiet down, the bugs hushing. All life seemed to pause in this moment.. you looked into each others eyes, the flickering of the flame glittering in your eyes. His hand rested onto your arm, the feeling of his touch in this moment made chills go down your spine regardless of the humidity. You looked into Alastor's cigar colored eyes, you both were locked into a moment of intense eye contact. You broke the moment bu glancing down onto his lips, curled into a cheeky smile, for a moment you thought this was something you were dreaming of, it felt like you were two young lovers in this moment, the heat rose to your cheeks quickly. Your breath hitched in your throat from the tension, so dense you could feel it. The seconds felt like minutes, the eye contact made the moment feel infinite. As you thought this moment couldn't be anymore perfect, the balance of your Comma heels wobbled slightly. The point of the heel sinking into the withering wood, your ankle slipped embarrassingly. Luckily enough, alastor had his hand on your arm to support your balance, expecting you to be horizontally challenged. The sudden movement seemed to immediately bring you back to reality, alastor chuckled at you as you corrected your foot placement. Embarrassed from the slip, you rethought the entire situation. You thought how stupid you could be for reading the moment like this, you'd always be a little sister to Alastor. Nothing more. Ashamed, you looked down, your lack of confidence in the moment now tinting your cheeks even deeper. "I'm getting off this dock before it crumbles underneath us." Your voice was cold, annoyed with your own mindset. You let out a soft shaky breath, looking downward at Alastor's brown leather shoes. "Let's... lets just go." You turned from him, pushing past his arm, beginning to walk away from the dimly lit pier where you both previously sat. As your heels stamped on the worn, soft wood, Alastor stayed for a moment. Still facing the direction you once stood. Your favorite way of dealing with awkward situations was fleeing the scene. His normally cheerful smile, now dropped half way, leaving a sorry smirk on his face. When he blinked and moved on from the moment he also thought you two were about to have, he refocused his vision back to you, making your way off the pier, your silhouette starting to be engulfed into the night. He quickly turned, grabbed the still dancing lantern off of its hook and followed after you with a small laugh escaping his lips. He figured your drunken ego was more fragile than he originally assumed.
"Well, don't leave without me!" He exclaimed as he jogged slightly to catch up with you. Finally by your side again, he walked slightly ahead of you, still by your side. "What ever would you do without your knight in shining armor? Who to protect you from these dark and dangerous nights?" He strides besides you, extending his arms gesturing at the immense but familiar night in the well traveled trail ahead you. You still focus your eyes on the path, you tried your best to remain your composure, your chest ached with embarrassment from the previous thoughts you had. As much as you try not to, a smile finds its way up to your face again, still seeing Alastor's behavior as adorable. Especially when he went into theatrics like this. He spoke as he was attempting to sound like a valiant leader. Except, it more came out sounding like someone reading a children's story, desperate to keep children engaged. "Who else would guide you through these twisting, terrifying, ever so confusing streets? None other than.. me?" He said, his tone hushing at his final word. He waited for you to respond, his head leaned down, his shoulders tilted forward as he walked. Tilting his head down to look at your expression, hoping to get a reaction. Upon receiving no success with getting your attention back onto him, he playfully bumped his hip into yours, making you slightly lose your balance but letting out a closed-mouthed laugh. Finally, you looked onto his face again, he was smiling so brightly and proud to have won your attention back. His rounded glasses hung lowly on his nose, his brown hair fell over his forehead, dusting over his eyes. Your heart never failed to melt at the sight, you tried to resist the feelings that erupted in you from just the sight of Alastor smiling your direction. Unfortunately, you didn't stand a chance against his charm.
"You're stupid," You said flatly, but a smile curling your faintly red painted lips. You tilted your head towards him as he gasped, faux-shocked at your insult, "But I guess you are pretty.. helpful to have around." You finished, moving your walking pace closer to his, taking your arm in his as you walked side by side through the night. The only light guiding your path being the flickering light from the sooty lantern and the illumination of the moon light. The path you took wasn't accompanied by streetlights. The faint sound of frog calls chirped through the air accompanied by the gentle kicking of gravel from both of your footsteps.
Alastor let out a relaxed sigh as you wrapped your arm around his, the arm he held the lantern with between you both. With his free left-hand, he raised it from his side to place it on yours. His fingers were warm and calloused but still felt gentle. His thumb rubbed the back of your palm while you walked. It was a good ten minute walk to your house, then an extra five to his home, but he didn't mind, he enjoyed these moments with you. After all, you were his best friend, his other half, if you will. "Oh, you're such a charmer..." he whispered, just barely escaping his lips before he continued, voice full bodied and now a bit teasing and sarcastic, "-When you want to be." His long fingers squeezed your hand playfully and he tightened his arm that you held on to, pulling you closer by his side, your shoulders touching. You scoffed, still looking forward.
"Alastor, I am a delight to be around and you know it." You said, nodding your head with your words, still locking your arm closely with his as he lead your way through the night. You couldn't tell where you were in this vast darkness, however Alastor always seemed to know where he was, vision or not, you always felt that safety with him. You looked down at your shoes, walking in matching strides as you strolled the empty street. The moon now in her highest peak of the night.
"Whatever helps you sleep better at night, Mon Kè." Alastor said, looking upward confidently, his head held high. He shook his head chuckling softly with his words.
"You know I told you I don't like it when you call me monkey, I'm not a kid anymore." You said naively and clueless to what the words he said. He laughed at your reaction, always the same.
"I'm sorry, I know you're all grown up now." He said with sarcasm, a teasing smile on his face. When you looked up, you could see his face with a candlelight aura from the flame in front of you both. The panes of his glasses reflecting the shimmer, his dimples being shadowed almost perfectly in the light. You forgot to respond from just admiring Alastor, like you always did. Alastor did not mind the quiet however, he just figured you were exhausted from your day.
As you approached your home, you regained awareness of your surroundings as you walked, passing by the familiar southern magnolia tree in your front yard. When you looked forward again you saw the faint light of your bedside lamp peaking through the curtained windows. You pulled your arm free from Alastor's, reaching into your pocket to retrieve your key. While you rummaged through your pocket, Alastor placed the lantern on the corner of your front step, out of the way but still illuminating the door. Upon finally finding the key, Alastor took it from your hand almost instantly and walked up your front door steps before you, unlocking the door and opening it for you. Alastor practically lived in your house from the amount of time he spent bothering you on your days off in your own home. When you walked in, Alastor locked the door behind you both. His mission of the day completed, he knew you were home safely now. You walked past him, used to this routine. You hung up your apron on the coat hanger and kicked off your heels with a yawn. As alastor watched you begin to unwind from your day, he leaned against the closed door. "So when do I get my own key?" He asked, making you roll your eyes. While you stood in the small entrance room, Alastor reached above, pulling the string on the light fixture on the ceiling.
"Oh never, The day that happens will be the day I have lost all dignity." You teased as you walked now much shorter than him without your heels. He chuckled,a bit hurt in the ego but knowing it was just your own pride you protected so heavily. You walked into your kitchen, a short stroll down the hallway. The walls of the corridor adorned with pictures of your family, Alastor and Adelaide, and random memories. When Alastor joined you in the kitchen, he pulled the string on the light in the kitchen as well, its bulb emitting a dandelion yellow glow. You began to pour a glass of water, taking a sip before handing to Alastor, who followed you tentatively. He took a sip from the same glass, subconsciously making sure to place his lips on the same place your lipstick had stained the glass previously. You yawned again, more significantly, and stretched your hands outwards in a dramatic display.
"Okay, Okay I get the hint, I'll get out of your hair~" He said placing down the small glass of water on your countertop. "You don't have to tell me twice, besides, I think you need to catch up on your beauty rest." He teased, raising his hands up like he was guilty of a crime. You gasped and covered your hand over your mouth.
"Are you saying I look rough right now? How ever so rude of you." You teased back, taking the glass of water that you shared from where Alastor had placed it. Taking a sip for yourself, feeling dehydrated after the drinking you had done together that night. Alastor shook his head, a large and gentle smile on his face, his eyes still as piercing as ever despite being such a welcoming oak color.
"Oh you know what I meant." His hand reached to the top of your head and then tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, petting down your hair before his hand rested on the side of your face. His palm against the end of your jaw, lower two fingers touching your neck as you still sipped water. While you finished your sip he asked, "Same time tomorrow?" With an endearing, warm smile. After finishing what you wanted from the cup, you placed it back down, the glass clinking on the countertop. From his closeness, his chin at the same level as your eyebrows you could experience alastor without the muddling of the outside elements. He smelled like raw vanilla and faintly of cigarettes.
You nodded slowly, a blush tinting your face from his touch, it wasn't a new experience. However it never failed to give you butterflies. Alastor leaned in to kiss the top of your head, as he did every night. Gently, like you were fragile. His lips lingered for a second, getting a scent of your hair that still smelled like the outdoors and like the warm wood from the pier. He placed his lips onto your forehead for a few seconds before pulling back, dropping his hand from your face. A part of you wished in that moment he didn't make it so hard not to love him, unknowingly that he was thinking the same about you. He took a step back, stealing the rest of your water from the glass, placing it in the sink as he turned and walked out from the kitchen. Not letting you say a word before he exited the room, as he approached the door you exclaimed, "You're locking yourself out right?". He turned back to you through the dimly lit hallway with a playfully insulted look on his face.
"You act as if I've forgotten before! Trust me, our nightly routine is more important than my studies, I could do it with my eyes closed." He opened the door in front of him, reaching up to turn off the light in the entrance room pulling the short string with a quiet click, turning to you as he went to close it, before shutting the door, he looked into your eyes one last time for the night, "Good night, Mon Ké." He looked at you, waiting for a response.
You scoffed at his words, thinking he was calling you one of your childhood nicknames, "Goodnight, Alastor." You smiled at him, tone just gentle enough for him to hear down the hallway. At the sound of your words, he closed the door, the lock clicking behind him. A few seconds after, the letter opening in your door opened a sliver, your small gold house key falling through it. Landing quickly onto your door mat with a quiet clink. You listened as Alastor's foot steps retreated off your front steps, he picked up the lantern he left on the ground, and held it to light his own way home. You heard his whistle as he entertained himself through his quick walk home, the tune fading slowly as he strolled deeper into the night.
At the final sighting of the golden glow of the lantern he carried disappearing into the air, muddled through the trees and fogged by distance, you let out a sigh. Your feet ached from the work heels that were a size too small for you and your clothes felt slightly damp from the humidity of the elements outdoors. You headed into your room, retiring for the night. Your room was small, the whole home was, but you loved it dearly. You still slept in your childhood bedroom, leaving your parents' master bedroom clean, as if they'd come home at any point. Next to your rickety twin-sized bed was your beside table. The only items on it being a miniature lamp, so worn with time that the once white lampshade was now beige, and a photograph of you in between your late parents in a frame with chipping pink paint. Taking the tips you made that day from your pockets, you reached down underneath the bed, feeling the underside of the mattress for your hidden envelope, taking the cash and tucking it into the envelope. As you placed the faded envelope back into its hiding place. You sat on the bed exhausted, you picked up the beloved frame, rubbing your thumb on the edge. A demure, sorrowful smile on your face. It will almost be 11 years this fall since their death, both dying from pneumonia. You didn't have much memories of them anymore, time fading the memory card of your brain. Without alastor and his mother, who knows what could of happened to you. Luckily enough, your family owned the land and as the last alive, it went to you. Regardless of not having many memories of them, you still missed them everyday. You put the frame back in it's spot, placing it with care. Continuing with your night as you prepared for your next day, not looking forward to the manual labor, but ready for seeing Alastor. Your daily routine was something that kept you going. The two of you barely spent a moment apart, regardless of your feelings towards him, Alastor truly was family to you. Him and his mother, Adelaide, being all you had left. Every day, thankful for their kindness and care. You sighed, gathering your work outfit for the next day, removing your dirty uniform and placing it in the laundry basket, preparing for your own nightly routine, already excited for the shift that hadn't yet started to end. Tomorrow was friday, the day you had dinner with Alastor and his mother, the highlight of your week.
#alastor#alastorhh#hazbin hotel#literature#fanfic#fantasy#alastor x reader#slowburn#flirting#human Alastor#radiodemon
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High Noon, All In
Valentín Ruiz leaned against the kitchen counter. He slipped his leather jacket open, exposing the holstered gun on his belt, like a gunslinger in a Western movie showing his opponent he was armed and a force to be reckoned with. His gaze swept over Chloe Grant’s belongings, stopping on another cardboard box in the corner, and locking onto the contents he could spot in its open topside.
She had still been unpacking. Still moving into this new home. The knife block sat at the top inside that box, still wrapped in newspapers. Both of them could see hints of knife handles through the crumpled paper.
He peeled his sight away from the open box, and their gazes met. He scratched the stubble on his chin, then sighed. A long, weary sigh.
Though she remained speechless, Grant’s most prominent thought echoed like a scream inside her mind.
Her gun was upstairs. His was right at his hip.
It wouldn’t have looked good for him if he were to shoot her in her own kitchen, but they both had sophisticated military backgrounds, and both had been working in private sectors, shrouded in secrecy. To some extent, they both had the skills and knowhow of spies, and could make each other vanish from the Earth without a trace if they just tried hard enough.
Grant considered herself a good judge of character. But in a situation like this, all bets were off.
Their previous banter, paired with the flirtatious glint in his eyes, could have meant anything. Maybe he was always just like that, using it to disarm situations and make friendly. Or maybe he was a good actor, using it all to conceal more nefarious intentions, allowing the wolf to creep closer before it pounced. Or maybe it was entirely genuine.
She found Ruiz hard to read now. His poker face gelled well with his model’s face.
Eyes still locked onto her, he finally broke the awkward silence by saying, “I never asked, did I? You aren’t from around Texas.”
“Nope,” she said, popping the single syllable like a balloon. “You never asked indeed.”
He emitted something that died halfway between scoffing and a chortle. He chased that with a wam smile.
“Okay, well, are you from Texas? Or not?”
Grant’s phone buzzed. A short message. She hesitated to check.
Instead, she countered his question. “You said the job and HQ can wait, you needed to talk. Almost had me convinced it was something serious, but now we’re small-talking in my sorry excuse of a kitchen?”
She leaned against the other counter, opposite Ruiz, and crossed her arms. She sold her words with a crooked smirk.
He bought it.
“I’m from Cali,” he said, “and figured you were too, based on how you talk. Or maybe it’s Nevada?”
Her smirk transformed into a genuine smile.
A good guess.
He was good, after all.
“Yeah. L.A. You?”
Another half-chortle, half-scoff.
“Same. People say it’s a small world, but a city like that’s big enough for us to never meet before this job a couple o’ states over. How about that, huh?”
The phone buzzed again.
“Maybe we just got around a lot,” she said, her smile fading. “Is this… going anywhere?”
His sunny demeanor also faded. With a thumb hooked into his leather pants’ pocket, his right hand hovered dangerously close to his pistol all the while.
“What? I thought you wanted me to ask you out for drinks, off the job, sometime. Wasn’t that what you implied at Carrington’s?”
“I didn’t imply anything, I flat-out said it. But tell me something, now. You go to a lady’s home first to ask her out for drinks? Is that how you roll, cowboy?” Her lips twitched until they formed another crooked smile—keeping her cool, trying to lure his motives out into the open. “How’d you find this place anyway? You following me around now? Are you stalking me?”
He tilted his head, then shook it, averting his eyes. Like a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar, he played it off with natural charm. A wide smile revealed a perfect set of teeth, just adding to the pleasant image. And he employed a soft, smoky chuckle to punctuate it all, to downplay everything.
Her phone buzzed again.
“Yeah, okay, I admit, I followed you here from Carrington, figured I wanted to ask in private,” he said. He was good. She had not seen his motorcycle on her tail for the entire ride. Offering Grant a sliver of relief, he unhooked his thumb, removing his hand from the vicinity of his gun, to wag a finger at her—to point at the phone in her jacket, specifically, just as it buzzed yet again. “You gonna get that?”
She grinned and grimaced both.
“You know, it’s work. Our work. I’m surprised your phone isn’t blowing up right now, too.”
He shook his head, still wielding that charming smile. “I prefer to keep it off when I have more important people to see.”
Oh, he was good. If he suspected that she knew anything about his espionage at Future Proof for Corsino, he was burying it under mountains of flirting.
Under other circumstances, it might have worked.
She slowly fished the phone out of her pocket, and it buzzed for the umpteenth time, now in her hand.
New messages flashed on-screen.
“We should be getting to HQ, saddling up already. And if you’d been paying attention to our employer, you’d know. We’re headed to the Appalachian mountains? Gonna be a long ride. So, I’m flattered you rate this…” she paused, using a gesture to bounce between the two of them, “as more pressing than your seriously lucrative job, but… I, for my part, would like to see those fat paychecks keep rollin’ in.”
He raised his hands like she had him in a stickup, palms facing her in surrender. With a nod of his head, he encouraged her to check her phone.
11:59, said the display.
High noon.
She fought the urge of looking up, to keep an eye on his right hand and the holstered gun.
As expected, messages from HQ were flooding her lock screen. Two of them in between had come from Danielle Bennett—from her own private number, not work.
Where ARE you? —Dan, 11:57
Grant held up a hand before Ruiz could say anything else. He shrugged in response. She took a moment to reply to Dan’s message.
Her heart was racing, but not because Ruiz was such a heartthrob. The silvery iron on his hip still kept her nervous enough, the subterfuge put all his flirting into question, and she still considered finding a way to elegantly excuse herself, to retrieve her own piece from upstairs.
For all she knew, she was about to take a bullet. Or ten.
Grant permitted none of this to surface in any shape or form. She bit her lip and answered Danielle, not HQ.
Had to make it snappy. Had to word it just right.
Her thumbs raced at a pace to match her heartbeat, tapping out a swift reply.
If anything happens to me, he’s at my place right now, and he’s got a private semi-auto 45 ACP, not issued by FP.
Message sent.
Grant quickly stuffed the phone back into her pocket. It soon buzzed more with a flurry of incoming messages. She knew they were all sent by Dan.
Without commenting on the flood of texts that kept her phone abuzz, Ruiz only arched a brow.
He stared into her eyes.
“Listen,” he said. A deep, shuddering sigh escaped him. The sheer power of it stunned her, and made her racing heart skip a beat.
He pulled off his beanie cap and ran a hand through dark hair, ruffling it as he visibly struggled to find the right words.
That sigh had blown away all flirtatious air about him. He shifted uncomfortably where he stood, still leaning against the counter. The hand so dangerously close to his pistol, it joined the other, folding in front of him and guiding his sight to the checkered floor between them.
“I am a spy,” he said. Each soft word landed like thunderclaps. “I work for an industry rival of FP’s.”
Her stomach knotted. The pause he allowed to follow only fueled her paranoia.
Was this another play?
Was he fishing for something else? Was he onto her, trying to find out who knew that she knew, to find whom she answered to?
Her mind flashed to Danielle Bennett, an innocent face on the surface of a sea of secrets.
Emotions started bubbling up from the depths.
Social engineering and confidence plays were tricky business, and whether this was a play of his or not, it had worked wonders in robbing Grant of her cool. She couldn’t think of any cards to play, and the sheer possibility of him being this stupid made her angry. It also somehow made her angry that his flirting might have all been hot air all along.
“What the hell?” she blurted out. “Why would you tell me that? Why me? Are you stupid?”
Another sigh escaped him.
He avoided eye contact.
Between her simmering sources of anger, and the very surprise of it all, she struggled to sense any deception. It was either a very good, aggressive bluff on his behalf, or her instincts were right, and he was coming clean to her in earnest.
Still, the question lingered. It compelled her to repeat it.
“Why? Why me?”
Another sigh from Ruiz now shuddered with gravity. He finally met her gaze again. The wet glitter of sorrow in his eyes hinted at a deep ocean of its own, an untapped well of tears, and a conflicted man hidden behind it all.
Everything he’d say would feel so very, deeply honest.
“When Spencer hired you, I… convinced Singh to let me get my eyes on your file. And when I saw that, I figured you were hired to ferret out any potential leaks or whistleblowers or spies in the organization. That’s kind of your specialty, isn’t it?”
Grant clenched her jaw so hard that her teeth almost started hurting from the pressure.
The look in his eyes reminded her of a puppy dog.
This, she hated. She really didn’t like dogs, not even in such an abstract sense.
“Well, I didn’t really sign up for that,” she snapped, “but I can see why you’d arrive at that misconception.”
Averting his gaze again, he shook his head.
“You know, I used to think it was the right thing to do. Everything about our company is shady. It’s shady as all hell,” he said. The words he used somehow dulled the edge. Maybe it was the softness in it, the sense of vulnerability he projected. His gravelly voice cracked, if ever so briefly. “Who’s the good guys, really? Who’s the bad guys? Sure, the extra pay didn’t hurt. It didn’t hurt one bit. But I was convinced it was better for this to be out in the open somehow, that it might be dangerous if Spencer held all this power in his hands, all this knowledge. Y’know?”
It was a lot to process. If this was a play, then he had gone all-in, put all his chips on the table, and asked to see Grant’s hand.
She had nothing. Nothing to match it.
It didn’t even feel like a play. It was probably more apt to understand it as someone who was quitting the game altogether.
Where she failed to reply, he continued speaking.
“Now? Carter was shot. Dead. We buried him after some gung-ho military asshole shot him, and I think it’s my fault—no—I know it’s my fault. And Singh’s behind bars, and this fucking shake—”
He raised his hand. His left hand—the one she had not been watching as closely, as it had been farther away from the holstered gun on his hip—now that she focused on it, she could see that it shook.
Tremors shook it.
Ruiz balled his hand into a fist but the tremors remained. His eyes sparkled brighter.
“This fuckin’ shake doesn’t go away anymore. I fucked up, Grant. I want you to turn me in or whatever, or just hear me out. Fuck. I don’t even really know you. I’m sorry I’m dumping all this horseshit on your lap. I just… I need someone to talk, I guess.”
His words fell the softest he had ever uttered. He rubbed his forehead, hiding his eyes behind his hand.
It was the least rehearsed thing she had ever felt coming from him.
This player had quit the game. He was on the verge of breaking down in her half-furnished house, in her sorry excuse of a kitchen.
She bit her lip. The ball of anger dissipated into a much milder frustration, a tinier pit, churning in her stomach.
In that moment, she decided to take him at face value. She could have gone on and continued questioning his motives and his every action, but the puzzle pieces fit into their rightful places.
Grant didn’t really know him either, but… this…
This felt honest.
“Shit, man,” she muttered, stirring as she broke free from her quiet shock, “this is so, so much to take in right now. You have no idea.”
It was her turn to release a deep sigh. Part of it was relief. She didn’t want to be cynical.
“Can I—do you mind if I smoke in here?” he asked. He blinked many times, blinking away the glitter in his eyes before he’d dare show any tears.
“Yeah, I mind. There’s no smoking in my house,” she answered with firmness.
He wiped his lips with those trembling fingers.
The gun at his hip no longer exuded a tangible threat. It just rested there. Just like the gun upstairs, in her bedroom. She would fetch it later, after he left.
“Shit, man, we got a lot o’ shit on our plate as it is. Now you come to me with… this? Like I said, it’s gonna be a long ride to the Appalachian, we need to get to HQ, and I need to think about what you said. I’ll tell you this, though, I wasn’t hired for counterintelligence,” she said, omitting the part of her having been doing that without being asked to. And as much as she disliked dogs, the look he then cast her way made her think of a kicked puppy. She swept her hair back, suppressed a groan of frustration, and the harsh tone faded from her voice altogether. Everything softened. “We’ll talk about it more, okay? But we also need to do our job—the Anomalies, the specimens and incursions—people’s lives are on the line, and we gotta hustle. See you at HQ, okay? Let’s talk shop after we get back from the field. Okay?”
Instead of tears, he broke out into another hybrid between scoffing and a chuckle. There wasn’t anything flirtatious or playful about it, instead having turned into something resembling relief.
He’d soon leave. She’d soon have packed and left as well, heading downtown to Future Proof’s towering skyscraper. And soon after that, they’d be en route to Kentucky.
They exchanged furtive, secretive glances during briefings in the boardroom and briefings in R&D, and between every step of travel where they looked each other’s way.
Grant now shared the burden of his secret. They did not speak about it at all. She felt watched all day, all night, all flight.
The tremor in his right hand remained, visible to her despite all attempts at hiding it. On the final stretch of flight into the Appalachian mountains, only Grant saw it.
Mischchenko chewed over their field operation orders from Spencer while they performed a final check on their EMD rifles. Pruitt was busy piloting the airlift chopper.
Max Carter was conspicuously absent. It felt like he should have been there. Instead, there was just an empty spot on the bench next to Ruiz.
That conversation in the kitchen had been haunting Grant all the while, all journey long. Everything else since had flowed past her in a blur. The most she remembered was trying to calm Danielle down, saying they’d sort things out soon enough.
She went through all the necessary motions. Kept to herself otherwise.
Grant kept her masked, helmeted head down, and followed Mischchenko’s instructions. Checked and re-checked her EMD rifle. Their battery packs whined as they powered their weapons up.
By the time the black, unmarked chopper swooped down over foggy Kentucky woods in the middle of nowhere, it was noon again.
The Anomaly glittered below.
That terrible, beautiful globe of splintered, slowly spinning lights, like glass shards shining with brilliant reflections of the sun…
Reports indicated pterodactyls in the area as a primary threat in the incursion. Burch confirmed the veracity of the images, and Stantz was busy having Bennett and their other minions scrubbing all video and image footage from the ‘net.
For the operators on site, the helmet visors concealed their faces. This kept the warmth inside their body armor, and it also hid all their facial expressions.
Even so, Ruiz’s stare lingered on Grant every now and then.
And she thought back to the kitchen, and how he had played his final hand, laying all cards out on the figurative table between them. It made her think of the blue-white checkered floor.
Would she tell Spencer? They needed to make a decision. A very cautious decision.
Some part of her related deeply to Ruiz. In all honesty, she didn’t trust Spencer herself. The power of these Anomalies, the power to affect time itself…
On the ground, she looked up at the Kentucky Anomaly in awe. It shimmered where it revolved mid-air, hovering inches above the frosted forest floor. This scintillating sphere was big enough to let another T-Rex escape from the past into their present.
Mischchenko was busy handling Doctor Solomon’s new variant of the ALM—what he had been so excited to share with the class. His new “innovation”.
This new variant could not only lock the Anomaly to prevent things from passing through the breaches in time—it could alternatively enforce stability. They could effectively stabilize a Flicker, what the R&D team had labeled an unstable Anomaly, which would work wonders if they ever needed to herd dinosaurs back through a Flicker again.
Ruiz returned from a sweep of the perimeter.
“No eyes on our big birds,” he reported. “But you’d think we’d hear ‘em make big shrieks to match.”
The ALM refused to lock the Anomaly. Mischchenko jiggled a cable. Slapped the side of the futuristic device.
She answered with frustration ringing in her voice—not over Ruiz’s report—but the ALM’s refusal to obey. “Burch said they’d be more silent hunters. Might not hear big wings until it’s too late.”
“These woods are pretty quiet today,” Grant remarked.
And with that, Mischchenko froze. The helmet kept her face as unreadable as everybody else’s, but Grant sensed the sudden shift in her superior’s air.
“You’re right,” Mischchenko said. “And now that you mention it, it’s too damn quiet. Keep your eyes peeled.”
Her movements turned hasty. She slapped the ALM’s metal case again, this time prompting lights to flare up on its top. The spiky sphere at its front starting spinning, and the Anomaly reacted—
The mighty, scintillating ball of light collapsed, compacting, shrinking from a huge, spinning sphere into a suitcase-sized orb, frozen and immobile mid-air.
The ALM hummed in chorus with the chugging generator wired up to it.
“Shit,” Ruiz muttered, so quiet that Grant only heard it over the radio bud in her ear. “I only now got what you mean, Mischchenko. Something’s wrong. We should be hearing… I don’t know what. It’s too damn quiet out here. I don’t hear Jack or shit.”
Mere seconds later, the chirping started. Chittering and scuttling sounds, drawing closer, ever closer. Shuffling, squeaking, and above all, chirping.
Not the chirping of birds.
Chirping of things on the ground. Buzzing.
Wings, far tinier than those of pterodactyls.
The mist around the Anomaly’s site roiled. Things emerged from it. Many, many things. Things that caused that symphony of buzzing and scuttling and chirping.
A living flood neared from every direction around them. The forest grounds teemed with life. Insects, the size of dogs, swarmed those frozen grounds.
Their three-person team was surrounded.
Ruiz shot first. Then the two women followed suit. Their EMDs flared up, discharging bright bolts of energy into the crawling swarm of weird locusts. The earth crackled with electricity, and those bugs were slowed, sometimes stunned… but the rest of the living tide swarmed every closer.
And quickly.
“Open the Anomaly back up,” Grant shouted between shots into the swarm. Then, as Mischchenko failed to comply, she repeated herself. “Open the damn’ Anomaly!”
Mischchenko stopped shooting and swiveled. She backed up, then hammered the device, shutting down the ALM.
The locked orb of the Anomaly exploded, expanding back into the brilliant, rotating sphere it had formed before.
The three field operatives continued firing shots in a futile attempt at stemming the tide, but they would never stop it like this—only slow it down, at best. Backing up all the while, shooting into these alien hordes of insect-like mutants, the light of the Anomaly engulfed them.
Pruitt was shouting over the intercom for a sitrep, but he would receive none as they shouted at each other in their desperate retreat, then all communications died.
The team vanished into the Anomaly, and the swarm followed.
#spoospasu#spookyspaghettisundae#horror#short story#writing#literature#spooky#fiction#mystery#thriller#spy#espionage#scifi#science fiction#Primeval#Future Proof#Grant#Ruiz#cat and mouse#flirting#play#counterintelligence#admissions#deception#honesty#coming clean#confiding#confidence#trust#Anomaly
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the steddilly brainrot is overwhelming and life consuming. eddie w his 2 high maintenance, jock bfs. steve w his 2 flirty, metal head bfs. billy w his 2 dorky, golden retriever bfs. they are my lifeblood atp. ❤️💙💚
#harringrove#mungrove#steddilly#steddie#just try to convince me billy isn’t a literature nerd who argues w eddie about lotr#steve and billy playing basketball together n flirting the entire time. eddie watching like 👀#steve and eddie co-parenting dustin and billy giving them shit for it#someone save me please#this is my season 4#stranger things#harrmungrove#stranger things season 4
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Playing Politics
Summary:
Hikaku is the most unassuming shinobi in the clan.
Which doesn't make him any less a shinobi.
Rating: Teen And Up
Fandom: Naruto
Relationship: Uchiha Hikaku/Uchiha Madara
Word Count: 542 (Complete)
Entry for @asian-drama-tropes
February
Go/Shogi/Xiangqi (politics optional) | Flirting through poetry/literature/music | Secret text training upgrade | Drinking under a full moon | "Heaven's Net is wide, and none can escape its mesh."
Hikaku pours sake into the dish at Madara-sama's elbow and patiently waits for his clan head to make the next move. The situation certainly looks dire, with white surrounding black on all sides, but Madara-sama doesn't seem interested in retrieving himself from the trouble he's in.
Or, at least, not this trouble.
Read the rest on AO3.
#asian-drama-tropes-2024#February | Prompt: Go/Shogi/Xiangqi (politics optional)#February | Prompt: Flirting through poetry/literature/music#February | Prompt: Secret text training upgrade#February | Prompt: Drinking under a full moon#February | Prompt: Quote#Phlebas Writes#Naruto#fanfiction#Story: Playing Politics#Series: Secrets of the Heart#Uchiha Hikaku/Uchiha Madara#Uchiha Hikaku & Uchiha Izuna#Uchiha Hikaku#Uchiha Madara#okay to reblog
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Me when Dionysus and Pentheus are flirting in The Bacchae:
#the bacchae#dionysus#pentheus#greek mythology#i really don't know what else to call it#it was flirting to me#euripides#tagememnon#classical literature
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I -
I just hate the men of my country the most.
And if you are not the one, just know how good you are 😭.
#why the fuck i replied to that text... maybe cause he was famous blogger here💀. but man literally spoiled my night.#you can't like the personality of every literature guy.. that's fucking true💀💀💀💀.#like seriously you can talk to me without flirting but no. i used to flirt and do loved it but now i don't wanna do it with anyone........
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'Can't you guess?' Fred asked.
'I dare say I could,' said Fergus, still wanting to continue his inquisition. 'I suppose I could. But what you can see is different from what you can imagine.'
L.P. Hartley, from The Harness Room
#savor the moment#reality vs fantasy#reality vs expectation#anticipation#imagination#dialogue#flirting#romantic tension#quotes#lit#words#excerpts#quote#literature#make it last#don't want this to end#l.p. hartley#the harness room
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GUYS GUYS I SAID "OOH YOU WANNA KISS ME SO BAD" IN THE MIDDLE OF AN ARGUMENT AND THEN HE DID WTF WTF HE KISSED ME WHAT THE FUCK IM NOT OKAY
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