#idk where this came from but I'm in LOVEEEE
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"I want you to be the poison pumping through my veins...I want to be the reason you struggle to breathe, to not concentrate at the most vulnerable of times...I want to be the skin that you wear...I just want you to look at me and tell me that I am yours and yours only...I just want you" - Miguel O'Hara
#IDK#idk where this came from but I'm in LOVEEEE#hopelessly in love Miggy is fogging my mind atm! (how inconvenient since I'm going to bed as we speak! 😭)#still trying to figure out how to go about the second part to “Hypocrite” don't worry! just....getting distracted as always 😶😵💫#GOODNIGHT LOL SMOOCHES HEHE 😙💋#miguel o'hara x reader#atsv
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Idk if You've already posted about this, but I would LOVEEEE to see your fashion ideas for the bene gesserit
I already did but im still on my dune kick so I'll do some more <3
Since this is a sci fi where folding time and space to cross the universe is literally possible, the types of clothing any given bene gesserit wears will not be the same as her sister who lives two solar systems away. However, there is an overarching feature that connects all of them. The idea of being hidden and mysterious is so important to the bene dessert's functions, and they need to portray themselves as these mystics behind a wall in any way possible, including in their look. This seems to be basically canon in the new movies, so I'm running with it. Thus there's always some sort of barrier in what they wear. Veils, headdresses, masks, etc. Anything from a delicate lace veil to a simple hair wrap to an extravagant metal full-face covering. Any sort of barrier from the rest of the world, to wordlessly say that they are above the masses, that the curtain is not to be pulled back.
And ive talked a bit about clothing before, and recently came up with more ideas for different sects and stuff, but that's a whole other long ass post that I won't do (just yet). But like the headdresses, what the BG wear is also widely varied due to their spread across the known galaxy, though I do imagine it is always quite elegant.
#dune#dune fashion my beloved#I wish frank Herbert wasn't just a middle aged man in the sixties when he wrote this sci fi#old sci fi is so fun until you want poetic prose and really detailed descriptions#then shits not funny anymore
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kyman headcanons part 2 !!!! SFW (cartman oriented!!!)
since yall liked my kyman headcanons so much i thought id give it another try and write down sum more ! :D
part 1: here
cartman would plan little fucking schemes to see if kyle really loves him (text him from a fake instagram profile, pay a girl to make a move on him, shit like that)
motherfucker craves attention so much, so he like pretends he's sick or dying or that something really serious happened to see if kyle comes running to him
kyle quickly realizes this is not a one time thing and is really annoyed w him but manages to come running everytime cartman pulls something like this, eric always treats him with a big smile when hes at the doorstep ("you came! :D " "ofc i came you said ur fucking mom was dying?! where is she?" "oh she just went shopping" "so you made it up?! you know how fucked up that is?!" "technically, my mom IS dying, we are ALL dying every second of every day ever since we were born, kHAL...")
cartman uses like an unhealthy ammount of emojis in every message, sends shit ton of tiktoks, reels, youtube shorts and has a completely different types of conversations w kyle on every social media platform all at once (like on instagram he's venting to him about how he doesnt feel appreciated enough by the world while hes sending him memes on discord and streaming himself playing fall guys or smth i dont fucking know)
kyle's style of texting is very simple, he doesnt like long messages, he doesnt really send memes or tiktoks or anything but he religiously watches everything eric sends him, responds to him asap and writes medium sized messages with emojis because cartman is super fucking clingy and goes on a rampage if kyle doesnt respond for more than 3 hours or if his response isn't "enthusiastic" enough (*eric sends a meme of cats with a "this is so us" comment* kyle: <3 eric: do you hate me? kyle: no wtf i dont??? why? eric: idk just seems like you hate me)
cartman hangs out w kyle's mom and makes kyle's mom unknowingly share embarrassing details of kyle's life just to tease him w the information later, they also look through baby pictures together
eric and kyle's mom love gossiping together and they watch say yes to dress together and critique the dresses ("the mermaid style dress with HER LEGS!? i thought she'd wanna show them off!" "yes, such a shame, wasted potential")
sometimes cartman just goes to kyle's house solely to hang out with his mom ("oh hey cartman, i wont be able to hang out today, i need to-" "no worries, I'm here to watch tlc w your mom")
cartman's love language is words of affirmation, obviously, and he makes kyle say everything he loves about him at least twice a week as a "communication exercise, so that their relationship stays good and they both feel appreciated" (its honestly just a way for eric to get praised, he loveeees that shit)
he knows kyle's love lang is acts of service (hes known him for years, kyle didnt even need to tell him) so while he's at his house he'll wash the dishes and fold his clothes but he won't admit to it, he actually hides it and feels embarrassed, kyle just knows ("hey, did you clean my room while i was downstairs?" "no?" "look, its clear you did, just say so" "i don't fucking know what you're talking about, khal" "...thank you, eric" "...shut the fuck up, jew, as if I'd touch your dirty ass room")
cartman's actually very shy with showing affection when its just two of them and when kyle says something sweet unprovoked, cartman usually blushes and shuts him down, turns it into a joke or straight up ridicules kyle ("you're actually very pretty, cartman" "yeah, you're pretty too... pretty gay, HAHA")
kyle's shy with showing affection in front of others and cartman fucking takes that and runs with it sometimes, doing everything to make kyle uncomfortable, he's being all lovey dovey infront of kenny and stan to see kyle cringe internally and awkwardly smiling on the outside to 'not seem like a bad boyfriend' (cuz when he once couldn't take it and told cartman to shut the fuck up, cartman got fake sad and stan came to kyle afterwards and gave a speech about "sometimes having to put up with stuff you don't like to make your girl, uhm sorry, to make your... significant other happy")
#kyle broflovski#kyle x cartman#kyman#sp kyle#kyle x eric#sp eric#sp cartman#sp kyman#south park headcanons#kyman headcanons#eric cartman
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So I was having a watching music videos but doing stuff around the house day today.. And one of my comfort/childhood Trace Adkins songs came on.. It was Swing ( I know I'm an odd one for it being a childhood song, my mom raised me on his music and just all around more adult music.. 😆 ) Anywaysssss! It made an idea pop into my head cause I subconsciously have been on the look out for ideas to send ya after you posted your last part to the wonderful Frankie story saying you were open to ideas and such. 🤗💞
Enough of my rambling, on to the actual idea.. 😆🤣🏃💨
So maybe since they are in full cuteness of being a relationship, that Frankie would want to teach reader how to do something he loves doing.. And or her doing the same with Frankie.. 🤔🤔 Since their lives are definitely officially merging together now ( in the cutest way cause they are couple goals,lol). 💞🤗
Idk why watching/listening to swing made that kind of idea pop into my head, but it did.. 🤣🤷♀️
You can have full ideas of all of it, whatever kinda active they wanna teach,etc.. 💞 I just had some of small baking ingredients to gift you if you wanted to make the meal.. 😆💞 idek where that analogy came from but oh well, lmao.
But I hope your day/week has been amazingggg! 💗🤗 And no worries whatsoever if this idea does not work with you, etc. Just wanted to pass an idea on if you wanted it. 💞😊
Comfort hugs and extra sending of loveeee if you are in need of them. 💞🤗😘 ( Adorable handsome Mr. Pascal and Morales to make you smile maybe too) 💞🤗
You just unlocked a bunch of foundational memories with this ask! I grew up listening to a lot of Grateful Dead and bluegrass music (thanks Dad), so I know what you mean when your childhood songs don’t line up perfectly with when you were a kid.
Hmm, Frankie or Ms J teaching each other things…
I was trying to think of what might come up here. Frankie has a lot of interesting talents (that Ms J has definitely been privy to). But then I was contemplating your musical inspiration…and I remembered Pedro is going to play Joel in The Last of Us…and I figured out where this should go. If you’ve played The Last of Us 2, you’ll recognize a bit of where I’m pulling this from.
This one got away from me a little bit, I hope you enjoy!
Takes place after Something More.
Future Days
Pairing: Francisco “Catfish" Morales x F!Reader "Ms Jackson"
Summary: What have Frankie or Ms J taught each other?
Word Count: 5k
Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, past Sex Worker!Frankie, watch me make up shit about sex work, The TF boys being too fun for their own good, Santi singing needs its own warning, descriptions of male and female bodies, breast play, unprotected PiV sex (don’t be a fool, wrap your tool), some minor cum play if you squint, me only knowing the smallest amount about playing guitar.
Cross-posted on AO3
Sex Worker!Frankie AU Masterlist
It was at another one of the Miller’s barbecues, much later in the summer when the oppressive heat of the day kept everyone in lightweight clothes and the night brought out camping blankets, that Frankie found out you still had your share of surprises.
The sun had set, leaving you around “another fuckin’ great bonfire” according to Benny, when Santi disappeared into the house. When he returned with a shit-eating grin and a guitar in one hand, everyone but you groaned.
“Santi, if we have to listen to your caterwauling one more time, I’m going to put that guitar right into the fire,” Will complained, though it sounds good-natured. Santi scoffs and sits in the chair next to yours, giving you his full attention since no one else seems to want it.
“Don’t listen to them, they’re just jealous I’ve got an instant in with the ladies,” he whispers, strumming a few chords and raising an eyebrow at you. You smirk and nod, feigning an impressed expression as he prepares to serenade all of the grimacing boys. Frankie is walking back to sit on your other side, placing a fresh Corona in your hand.
You push the lime through the tight neck of the bottle as Santi does a not-half-bad rendition of “Dancing in the Moonlight,” which despite their moans gets the boys’ toes tapping. Santi’s voice is clear and lifts on the breeze, a light vibrato on held notes and breathy exhales on the low dips. He’s all smiles and winking at everyone watching, just as engaging a performer as a singer. His energy is infectious; you even join in on the verses, Will adding an overly high falsetto at times that makes you all laugh. He’s warmed up to you more over time, growing from the silent brother to your favorite person to confide in when the party gets rowdy. Silent smiles and rolled eyes are your language.
Santi waves his hands for a smattering of applause, yours the loudest. He dips his head in mock modesty.
“I’m glad someone here appreciates my musical talent,” he jokes, and you try your hardest not to break into the silliest grin. “You enjoy the guitar too, Ms Jackson?” You nod, eyeing the mahogany curves and the onyx neck of his well-loved looking instrument. Santi notices with a sly smile.
“You ever play?” he asks, and he’s walked right into your not-so-subtle trap.
‘Yeah, I’ve dabbled,” you say, earning a surprised look from Santi and, you assume, Frankie behind your shoulder. Santi holds the guitar out to you.
“Care to grace us with a little tune?” Before you can answer Benny whoops and shouts, “Yeah Ms J, show him how it’s done!” You shake your head but take the guitar, scooting up to rest it on your knees. It’s a little bigger than the one you’re used to playing, but you adjust your position around it. Taking a peek over at Frankie, his eyes shining in the firelight, you catch a surprised smile gracing his face.
It’s exciting to think you can still surprise him.
“What would you like me to play?” you ask Santi sweetly, testing a few chords.
“Whatever inspires you, I’m beyond intrigued now,” he says, turning his chair to face you more fully. “Fish, you never told me Ms Jackson can jam.” Frankie huffs out a laugh and you beat him to an answer.
“Hasn’t come up before, Santi,” you reply coolly, looking back at Frankie and giving him a smile. He’s looking especially rumpled and adorable, barefooted in khaki shorts and a red jean jacket half hiding a tattered Fleetwood Mac t-shirt that definitely has a hole in the armpit.
“Anyway, here’s Wonderwall,” you joke, strumming the first few notes to a chorus of groans. “Ok jeez, tough crowd.” Instead you begin thumping your foot against the ground, plucking at the strings with the nimbleness of practice. You hear Will’s, “Oh shit!” from across the fire as you get through the intro and stop for two beats, all the boy’s faces breaking out in smiles as you jump into the first lines of “The Chain.”
Frankie’s bellowing cheer tells you this was a good pick. Benny and Santi start clapping along with the beat, Santi’s clear voice pairing with your airier one and adding strength to the melody. He even harmonizes with you, making your hair stand on end at the major chords. The chorus has all of the boys joining in, Frankie’s growly baritone speak-singing the lyrics next to you. Benny and Will air-drum through the interlude, you plucking through the bass section. The music peters off as you strum through the ending.
“Holy shit Ms Jackson! You’ve been holding out on me!” Santi cheers, taking the guitar from you and slapping you on the back.
“Anytime, as long as the boys don’t get tired of listening to me,” you reply. Santi slings the guitar strap over his shoulder and saunters to the other side of the fire, playing the beginning of another song that has Will and Benny practically running from him. You get up to toss out your bottle but Frankie snags you on the way by, pulling you down into his lap with a squeak. Warmth surrounds you, big arms wrapping you into Frankie’s body as he beams into your face.
“You trying to get me riled up?” he growls playfully, to which you tap him on his strong nose and weave your fingers into the base of his curls.
“I know your weaknesses, Frankie Morales,” you tease, scritching at the place on his scalp that makes his eyes close. He hums and squeezes your hips with his large hands.
“You’re gonna have to teach me that sometime,” he says, pressing a kiss at the hinge of your jaw. You sigh, giggling when you hear Will threaten, “If you sing that stupid hippo song one more time I’m going to shove that torture device so far up your ass.”
A few days later, Frankie surprises you right back.
“I would actually like to learn,” he brings up out of the blue. He’s got your feet in his lap, tucked at the end of his couch as you lounge across it. His thumb makes circles in the pad of your foot, gentle but also…nervous?
“Learn what?” you ask, sitting up to see him better. His smile is a little sheepish.
“How to play guitar,” he says a little quieter. He’s keeping his eyes trained on your feet, which makes your nose crinkle. Does he think you’d laugh at him for that? When it might be the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?
“Of course, Frankie. I can dig up my old one.” The smile that creeps onto Frankie’s face settles into your heart like so many of his other emotions.
“It’s okay? I don’t want it to be a hassle,” he concedes, but you’re shaking your head and scooting closer to him.
“I would love to teach you.” Frankie scoffs for a moment, lifting his cap to comb back his hair. You grab the brim and toss it over onto his coffee table, replacing it with your fingers instead. He melts below your touch, leaning back and looking at you with that strangely sheepish expression again.
“I, um…” he starts, pausing to look in your face before continuing, “I’m not always the most…patient learner. So if it gets to be too much you just…give me a slap or something.” You hum at this admission. Frankie could be impatient in some aspects, but most times it had been to your benefit.
“We’ll have to see how good of a teacher I am,” you settle on, and Frankie’s gentle eyes couldn’t be more adoring.
Frankie was not kidding. For someone who could be so patient and take so much time in some aspects of his life, learning a new skill frustrated him to no end.
You’d started small, showing him how to hold a few major chords on the long neck of your old guitar. His hands dwarfed the wooden column, jaw clenching when his thick fingers pressed down on too many strings, dulling the note. He frequently shook his hand out, complaining of cramping. It reminded you of when you tried to learn piano, your hands too small to reach a full octave across the keys and how frustrated you were when you undershot a note that was so easy for others.
These lessons, spread out over several months and no more than a couple times a week, showed you a side of Frankie you’d never seen before. Your sweet, thoughtful boyfriend became more focused, serious as he tried to memorize progressions. His teeth clenched, mouth turned downward when he struggled, no matter how much encouragement you plied him with. Low curses lingered under his breath, and on more than one occasion you asked him if he wanted to stop.
“No,” he grunted out, dropping the guitar on the couch beside him and leaning back, hands coming up to scrub at his face. “I’m just feeling…slow. I hate feeling slow.” You took his hand in yours, massaging your thumb along the delicate muscles. It took a long time for your hand to feel comfortable on the strings too. You’re not Frankie’s therapist (his name is Ben), but when he gets quiet and tense like this you encourage him to speak those simmering feelings just to let them into the air.
“Want to tell me about it?” you ask. Sometimes he does, sometimes he doesn’t.
“Maybe I’m just an old dog who can’t learn a new trick,” he grumbled, head tilted towards the ceiling. Actively trying to relax his jaw, you continued working the tight muscles in his hand.
“If it’s not fun, you don’t have to do it,” you replied. Frankie brought his face back to yours. “It’s not a job. You’re supposed to enjoy it.” That granted you one of your favorite Frankie faces, sweet eyes and a gentle smile with a tilt of his head. It always bloomed warmth in your chest.
“How did you not give up on it?” he asked. You contemplated that, pulling your lower lip between your teeth before breaking out into a grin.
“I’ve got an idea.”
The next time Frankie sits down to practice, the defeat already in his shoulders, you place a few pieces of paper down on your coffee table. They’re chord progressions written out in your hand, no musical notes or bars. Frankie’s forehead wrinkles as he looks at them.
“You have to guess,” you say, sitting in the armchair across from him. “You know the song, but you gotta figure it out. I’ll give you a hint when you’re getting close.”
Frankie’s face smooths, a smile coming to his lips. Your excitement is thrumming in your chest. This is what he needs, a puzzle to solve, a game to play that engages both his body and his mind. He was a pilot after all, you’re surprised you didn’t think of this sooner.
He studies the chord progression, full focus on the sheet and his fingering, as he gets through your written directions slowly but accurately.
“Okay, a little faster this time,” you say, and Frankie nods with a sharpness that looks like it would be followed by a, “yes ma’am.” That flash of obedience sparks something primal and deep in you, but you push it down for another day. He stumbles, puffing little annoyed breaths out when he makes a mistake, but soon he’s getting the hand placement right, moving through the eight bars with more fluidity. His grimace starts to morph into a smile, and you look at him expectantly.
“What song is it?” you press, waiting for him to work through the chords again before he beams up at you.
“Well I guess it would be nice…” he rasps out, more speaking than singing, but you point at him and nod, “If I could touch your body, ‘cause I know not everybody has got a body like you!” You clap at his rendition of “Faith” by George Michael, strumming becoming more confident as he recognizes the rhythm and melody of the song he was unwittingly playing.
This is what finally gets Frankie excited instead of the single-minded goal to “be good” at guitar. Every little lesson is a game now, ranging from practicing the songs he enjoys playing (Faith has become a favorite) to new ones you write out for him. From “Kokomo” to “I Wanna Know What Love Is,” he’s starting to really get into the groove. You pretend not to notice that he folds up all the scraps of paper into his pocket at the end of the lesson, or the little pile on his bureau that bears your messy handwriting. Instead you start adding a little heart to every sheet.
Your favorite session by far was one where Frankie got the chords quickly, but was puzzling through what song it was. After almost ten repetitions he shakes his head with a stumped expression.
“You finally got me babe, I’ve got no idea.” You try not to break out into laughter immediately, instead nodding to play it one more time. As the cue comes, you start making a loud exaggerated saxophone noise with your mouth, air-playing it as well. Frankie’s head shoots up in surprise, then the laughter bubbles up from a chuckle to raucous hyena shrieks, your own breaking through and making you gasp for air.
“You taught me Careless Whisper?!” Frankie tries to say between frantic sips of air, putting the guitar down and flopping back on the couch. His chest shakes violently with the force of his merriment, and you crumple onto the living room floor as you try to overcome your giggle fit. As you finally get control of your diaphragm, Frankie slides off the couch and hovers over you, a halo of curls that the light seeps through.
“I love you, you know that?” he says, placing a ticklish kiss in the crook of your neck. You release another delirious giggle, your head light from lack of oxygen, as Frankie crawls over and cages you in. Your hands come up to stroke along the tight muscles on his back, his curved nose bumping against yours.
“I love you too,” you reply, lifting your chin to give him a sweet kiss that is still punctuated by a few giggles. “Love you even more if you let me get off the dirty floor.”
“It’s vacuumed, you’re fine,” Frankie mumbles into your neck, the twin brushes of his lips on your skin making you dig your fingers into his back. “Let me love on you for a little bit,” he adds, chasing the paths his lips left.
“You can love on me all you want in a more comfortable spot,” you shoot back. Frankie’s head pops up, fake contemplation on his face, before he concedes and continues his gentle worship in the softer cushions of your couch.
It was a cooler Friday afternoon, sunlight welcome on your back as you moved through your house, when Frankie surprises you yet again. He arrives at your doorstep per usual, but with two bags of groceries on a Friday afternoon. You’d both gotten out of work early, you because of a holiday, him because he asked his boss if he could leave when he was done working on his last car. Now, with a mountain of supplies you recognize but don’t understand in this context, Frankie is giving you a shy look.
“I thought I’d make you pernil for dinner,” he says, and while you’ve never heard of the dish you immediately agree to Frankie’s bashful request. He was a decent cook, whipping up quick tasty dishes when you stayed at his apartment. Your cuisines didn’t overlap at first, but you’d come to love many of the South American flavors he cooked with, and he’d treated you to many whispered, “oh shits,” at the French and Mediterranean food you were partial too.
As he chops and stirs at your kitchen island, letting you help with the prep but nothing more, he tells you this slow-roasted pork shoulder is something his mother makes only at Christmas due to the length of time it has to cook and the penchant that the young boys in the family had of barely letting it reach the table. You can understand why; the smell coming from the oven is savory, spicy, warming you all over.
“So what did you do to get the great honor of your mother’s recipe? I’m still trying to convince mine to give me a few of hers.” Frankie smirks, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow with his sleeve. He’s preparing rice and pigeon peas for a side dish, and the way his arms flex as he mixes, a tiny patch of sweat at the center of his chest, makes you want to abandon this meal for other activities.
“Came back alive,” he says simply. The words drag you into the moment. You hum in acknowledgement, your finger tracing the edge of your wine glass, rubbing away the lip print on one edge.
At first, Frankie’s matter-of-fact attitude had been a little jarring, a refusal to candy-coat his experiences or the dark moments of his life. You’ve come to understand it better as his way of removing emotion from those memories. It still makes you want to hold him when he says things like that, but Frankie carries a reserve of strength beneath his frame and you respect him too much to baby him. Instead you spread out those desires into the little moments you share every day.
The shoulder needs to roast for several hours, so you retire to the living room and move to pull up something on Netflix. Maybe you can binge a few episodes of some new show as the sun starts to inch towards the horizon.
“Uh, there’s another thing,” he says, still standing in the entryway. You put your hands on your waist and cock an eyebrow at him.
“Full of surprises today, Frankie,” you tease, getting your favorite nervous tic of his. He smiles and lifts his hat, combing the hair away from his forehead before resettling it. You teased him about wearing hats in the house but he looks so damn sexy in them it’s always half-hearted.
“I’ll just…go get it,” he says, turning to leave before spinning back. “Sit in the armchair. And…don’t look just yet, it’s kind of a surprise.” Then he’s out your door and ambling to his truck. You close your eyes, trying to fight a smile and failing. Your home smells wonderful, spiced and clean with hints of Frankie caught in the couch cushions, in your clothes.
The door creaks open and you make a show of covering your eyes with your hands, grinning at Frankie’s soft chuckle. His boots thump by the door, socked feet padding over to your couch and sitting across from you. You hear a twang, familiar but not quite identifiable when you’re in darkness. Then the strum of a guitar. Your eyes fly open.
Frankie is sitting on the edge of your couch, a new guitar more suited for his frame resting on his lap. The wood is dark walnut along the curves, lightening to amber around the strings. His head is turned down, brim of the cap hiding his eyes and nose, but his lips, those wonderful lips, are still visible as he plucks out the first few notes and chords.
“If I ever were to lose you,
I'd surely lose myself.
Everything I have found dear
I've not found by myself.
Try and sometimes you'll succeed
To make this man of me.
All my stolen missing parts
I've no need for anymore.”
You can barely move, afraid to break the spell of Frankie’s large hands wrapped around the neck of the guitar, fingers that frustrated him before now plucking nimbly, if not a little messily, at the strings. His voice is far-off thunder, half still in his chest like he’s afraid to be louder. Your hands are clasped in your lap, eyes shining at your beautiful boyfriend showing you how hard he’s worked to play this for you.
The lyrics keep flowing, the melody pausing sometimes when a particularly tricky part comes. He pushes through it, his head still downturned. It’s probably for the best because you can feel tears starting to dampen your lashes.
“I believe
And I believe 'cause I can see
Our future days
Days of you and me.”
You’re crying to Pearl Jam being sung by the most gorgeous man you’ve ever had the chance to love and he’s rumbling the lyrics out so softly but each digs into your chest and makes a home there.
“All the promises at sundown
I've meant them like the rest.
All the demons used to come 'round,
I'm grateful now they've left.”
You hear Frankie’s throat bob with a swallow, taking an extra measure to get to the last verse.
“So persistent in my ways.
Hey angel, I am here to stay.
No resistance, no alarms.
Please, this is just too good to be gone.”
You know there’s a final verse lingering behind Frankie’s lips, but you stand and wrap your hand around the neck of the guitar, pulling it from his hands as he finally turns his head to look up at you. Your hands fly with frenetic energy, placing the guitar by the end of the couch, knocking Frankie’s cap off his head, and putting both hands on his face to capture him in a kiss. He lets out a surprised grunt that you swallow, pushing him back as you straddle his lap. You card your fingers through his soft curls, stroke your thumb along his scruffy jaw, and devour his mouth. Arms wrapping around you, he pulls you tight as he returns your heated kiss, dragging his tongue against yours, licking into all the little places that make you moan. His hands fist into the fabric of your shirt as he pants below you.
“Love you,” you gasp out, letting your lips part just enough to say it. “Love you so much, Frankie.” You feel a tear slip out, curving down to the corner of your mouth where Frankie kisses it away.
“You liked it?” he whispers, making you nod furiously, your noses bumping. “I’m still a little slow but…” You silence him with another kiss, settling your body tight against Frankie’s lap as he shifts his hips up to slot between your thighs.
“It was perfect,” you say, pulling back enough to look at Frankie’s dazed face. You let your fingers dance over his lips, soft and wet from your frenzied advance. He sees the trail of the tear down your cheek and wipes it away, cupping the side of your face with his warm palm. Tracing the edge of his beard, the dark crescents of his eyebrows, the proud line of his nose, you press back against his mouth with sweeter, slower movements this time.
Frankie indulges you in languid slips against his tongue, one hand splayed on your lower back, the other cupping the back of your head. Suddenly your head is spinning, your back coming down on the couch as Frankie flips you. He sits back on his knees, fingers making quick work of the button-up you hadn’t changed out of yet. Once he’s popped every button open and bared your chest to his hungry eyes he folds over you, dragging his lips against the hardened bud of your nipple. Your back arches at the soft sensation, giving Frankie just enough leverage to drag your sleeves and straps down your arms.
“Oh, babe,” he chokes out. Those fingers that frustrated him now deftly unclasp your bra, baring you to his wandering mouth. Frankie’s hot breath fanning across your sternum is a precursor to the tip of his tongue gently tracing around your nipple. Sparks ignite where his mouth closes around your breast, his hand cupping the neglected one and stroking the rough edge of his thumb over it again and again.
“Frankie, fuck,” you gasp out as he swirls his tongue around and over, dragging his teeth softly against the flesh to make you bury your fingers in his hair. When you start keening less he lets your nipple fall from his lips, replacing it with your plush mouth. His cock is hard and straining against you, your work skirt rucked up your thighs and panties damp with your arousal.
“Wanna give you my cock, baby, wanna make you cum,” Frankie garbles into your chest as he moves his devious lips to your other breast.
“Yeah Frankie, want to cum with your mouth full?” you tease back, the groan against your skin making you lift your hips against him. The groan becomes a growl as one of Frankie’s large hands snakes between you and thumbs at your clit.
“Please can I fuck you, baby?” he all but begs and your hands join his in unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans. He pulls your panties to the side and swipes his thumb through your messy sex.
“Want me to…” he starts to say, but your legs wrapping behind his thighs, pulling his weeping cock flush with you, cut off his next thought.
“Now, Frankie, need you now,” you moan, rocking your hips to drag him through your folds. Frankie curses and grips the base of his cock, guiding the thick tip into your cunt and rolling his hips to fill you achingly slow. When he bottoms out with a snap you shout hoarsely, his eyes flashing concern for a moment before you follow it with a debauched groan and a thrust back.
“Fuck, baby, yeah. Your pussy is so fucking good,” he squeezes out, one hand palming your ass and the other propping himself up on his elbow. You take a hold of his face again and guide him back to your breast, your breath hitching when he teases your nipple with the same talented strokes he puts to use between your legs.
“Frankie, honey, you’re gonna make me cum on your cock,” you murmur, sneaking a hand between you to rub dizzying circles on your clit. Neither of you have the patience or the brainpower to draw this out. You just want skin and pleasure and mouths and love love love.
It’s almost too much to bear when Frankie curls down into you, gathering you in his arms and scraping his teeth and lips behind your ear as he slams into you. The couch groans comically at the debauched pounding you’re experiencing.
“Love you, sweet girl, love you so much. Love everything about you. Fuck, love this tight pussy, you’re gonna make me cum so fucking hard. I’m gonna…fuck, I didn’t…baby, where…?” Frankie’s pace is quick and deep now, barely pulling out before pressing hard inside your cunt, punching his hips up to angle his cock against your g-spot. He’s moaning long and loud and you love hearing him falling apart.
“Cum on my panties,” you purr, squeezing Frankie as his hips falter.
“Oh fuck, fuck, shit yes, baby-” he tries to say, pulling his cock out and stroking himself, quick wet passes aided by your slick coating him. He pulls your panties back over your cunt, your hand still working under the cotton. “Fuck. Fuck! Yes, fuck!” Frankie grits out as he cums hard, coating the fabric in his spend as he jolts against you over and over.
“That’s it baby, look at you, so fucking sexy,” you croon as you feel the fabric dampening over you. You’re almost at the peak yourself, Frankie’s fucked-out face and rapt attention pushing you there quickly.
“Fuck, baby, that’s so fucking hot. Let me make you cum,” he pleads, but it’s less of a request than a demand when he pulls your wrist out of your panties, yanks the fabric to the side and dives down to suck your clit into his mouth. His tongue is fast and merciless against you, and being so close to the edge it barely takes a moment for you to shatter on your boyfriend’s tongue, his own cum smearing against his cheek in his eagerness.
You lay half-naked on your couch for a few minutes, trying to catch your breath. Frankie slumps against the back of the couch, shirt rumpled up, cock softening in the V of his hastily undone jeans. A silvery smear of cum on his cheek glistens until Frankie lifts the hem of his shirt to wipe it away, treating you to a gorgeous view of his stomach.
Once you have enough wherewithal to pull your panties back over you, sliding your skirt down to cover them, you hold your hands out for Frankie. He smiles, that quick, amazed one that both lights up your chest and gives you a pang of heartache. One day you think he’ll realize he deserves all of the love you give him.
Frankie crawls down your body, snuggling down beside you and resting his head on your chest. One heavy arm drapes over your stomach, fingers lacing with yours. He slots his thigh between your legs, and with your free hand you stroke at his fluffy curls. Post-orgasmic bliss was dragging your eyelids closed, and you could feel Frankie’s breathing evening out against your collarbone.
“Thank you,” you murmur into the top of his head, pressing a kiss there. He sighs, and in it is all of the comfort and satisfaction he feels in your arms.
“For the sex or the song?” he slurs against your skin. You huff out a laugh that makes him smile into your skin.
“For being everything,” you answer. His fingers tightening in yours speak louder than anything he could possibly say.
The pernil is delicious, and needed with both of your ravenous appetites. You thank Frankie, loudly and enthusiastically, as he blushes at your unabashed happiness. Conversation turns where it often does - work, plans, what you want to do this weekend - but towards the end of the meal Frankie just reaches over and takes your hand. It’s nothing new, but the way he holds it so tenderly makes your whole body feel full to bursting. You meet eyes, share smiles, and in Frankie’s brown ones you see all those future days perfectly promised.
END
The story continues in Frankie Finds Your Fanfic
#frankie morales x you#frankie morales fic#frankie morales x reader#francisco morales x reader#francisco catfish morales x f reader#francisco catfish morales#triple frontier fanfictions#triple frontier fanfiction#triple frontier fanfic#catfish morales x reader#frankie catfish morales x you#frankie catfish morales x reader#sw!frankie
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part 2 of parts im excited to see in Shibuya Incident arc. (pt. 1 here)
manga SPOILERS ahead.
i love how freaking dramatic and supernatural this feels. that baby opening his eyes with clarity and awareness is creepy af. i loveeee it.
the entire flashback with the curse user scrubs is actually creepy and gritty and excellent all around. but this scene...
im not even gonna pretend. i have a colored version of this page as my phone bg. i. will. scream. little!gojo looks like hot shit. a very scary hot shit.
legitimately the cutest panel akutami has ever drawn ever.
i don't even like toji! but how dare you resurrect his body's information to control his abilities! this man was a piece of shit, but his body and abilities therein were the only good things about him damnit. toji taking over the body of the one who tried to use him and murdering granny ogami was v satisfying. (also, going further into the discussion between body+soul is such an interesting theme in jjk.)
brief but beautiful nanami/nobara working together. this is an unusual team up kinda? let nobara watch a real man work. ugh, nanami and nobara are in my top 6 characters.
uggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh and then we know what happens to theeeeemmmm. im gonna be sick
all three of those people... (maybe all four? lol) are, well. anyway, this moment of lucidity... this is a moment of enlightenment. it's so antithesis to shonen heroes. i think it's great. (again, ties into my post of why i love yuji.)
This is another favorite scene of mine. it's so bizarre. lol
ugh, naobito's powers are cool as shit. i'm looking forward to seeing how animators animate animation powers. lol.
maki is also my main girl, so seeing her team up with nanami... just nanami + team zenin is cool and funny. it's like the straight man dropped in the middle of a dysfunctional family reunion.
happiness that i got to see him directly interact with my favorite ladies before... well.
seeing dagon and remembering grasshopper curse, and the both of them look like they came right on over from chimera ant arc in hunter x hunter. which is another one of my all time favorite arcs in shonen. great. shibuya incident is such a great arc!
my girl maki is 16-years-old. all this time, and in this fight too, there have been doubts, she must fight against it all the time, doubts that she can be as strong as any grade 1 sorcerer. she was alone, and yet. AND YET, here she sees toji who's just like her. it must've been reaffirming. it must've been encouraging! ahhh. toji being good for something for once in his life--death-- whatever.
ah ah ah ahh! this was so shocking! after all that, jogo comes and bodies nanami, maki, and naobito just like that.
one of the few moments where sukuna popping up made me wanna scream. fuck this is such a good shot. the arrogant condescending demand and expression. i could hear his voice. 💦💦💦
yikes. YIKES. YIKES. FUCKING BRUTAL. I WANNA SCREAM. it's just been ONE. THING. AFTER. ANOTHER. AHHHHH
...i'm beginning to wonder if i'm a bit of a sadist? ...nah. i just appreciate a good story. 😤 also mimiko and nanko showing up was a pleasant surprise. i've always liked their designs.
sukuna just fucking with them makes me laugh every time. THERE WAS NO POINT TO THIS. BASTARD WAS JUST HAVING FUN AT THEIR EXPENSE OMG. what a shit.
there's always something charming about flashbacks between megumi and gojo. then there's the little self-deprecation of megu's here too. idk idk! megumi is never complimentary about gojo except in these rare moments where he's thinking to himself, we get glimpses of his reliance on gojo. like, i remember in the yasohachi bridge case when megumi thought something like, 'gojo's coming back in a week, i can ask him for help.' very small moments that hint at their relationship.
also these little flashback sequences are all we're gonna get of gojo until like season 4, so i'll enjoy them wherever i can. lol.
i didn't particularly care about mahoraga until he showed up later, but rereading this appearance again is pretty exciting. and then megumi says, 'aight i'm out. take care of it yourself, fucker.' before passing out from blood loss. lmao
"hey brat, take a look." what a sadistic fuck.
the raw shock and devastation is incredible. i hope it's just as terrible in the anime.
cont. in part 3
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Our man Bashir gave me so much second hand embarrassment for him. But loveeee the campy performances esp sisko. garak being in love after Julian shot him he really did do heart eyes
I also liked the episode where tldax and worf and kor go get the first bat'leth but I'm not sure how I feel about them just dropping it. Idk like they came to a good conclusion I think but from a writer stand point I feel like ejecting it out the runabout was uh baffling
kadkfjdla yeah everyone got to act so over the top its extremely fun poor julian tho very humiliating yeah i think whenever they encounter strange klingon religion stuff its often just like hmm lets never deal with taht again <3
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Numbers 208, 210, and 211 ☺️
208: Do I collect anything?
Kinda? Me n my brother collect pokemon games... I guess u could say I collect day6 and monsta x albums, but I haven't bought any albums in over a year so eh. I also just don't have a collector mentality for albums like idc much. I wanna collect something more interesting but idk what 🥺 OH I want keychains I love cute keychains
210: What is on my bucket list?
Oh this is cute... travel is the obv big one. I loveeee the idea of travel I need to go to Iraq to see where I came from, japan has always been a dream of mine, and france (🤢) just cuz I speak the language. I have bucket list stuff like fitness goals, language learning goals, art goals, and small tiny things like going to take a walk in this new park by my old uni. Oh also would like to sky dive one day lol
211: How do I handle anger?
I kinda don't? I don't get angry often and when I do, it's short-lived. It quickly just turns to me being upset or disappointed. I get over anger rly fast idk... it's not an emotion that resonates strongly within me. pisces mars 🙄🤢. typically I'm angry at things I can't change, and if I can't change something, why worry about it n get worked up? Ig that's been my philosophy
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i loveeee your first write abt Jisung omgggg he is like one of my BIGGEST bias wrecker of all time so i was like WOAH THERE,,,, and i was so hooked on your writings i wanna see more 👀 if you have free time can i please ask for a Jeonghan smut where he is your rival in everything let's say at school and u didn't actually like him at first but he kinda flirts and idk I'm just so into Jeonghan's cocky behavior these daysss he's making me feel thiiiiiiingsssss 😩❤️
ahh thank you anon you are so so sweet! ♡ I’m so happy that you liked my Jisung stuff! I love writing for that boy hehe and thank you so much for requesting love!! this is my first seventeen ask I’m so so excited to write more of them in the future! my brain really took this one and rannnn with it, it ended up a bit harder than I intended, I hope that’s okay and I hope that you enjoy it!
what i want most |reader x jeonghan |
Pairing: self insert, gender neutral reader x yoon jeonghan
Genre: lil bit of smut, lil bit of angst
Tags: harddom!jeonghan, bratty!reader, enemies (competitors) to lovers, college au, jeonghan being our fave cocky boy, bestfriend!seungcheol, mentions of school work, slow-ish burn, masturbation (reader), use of degrading names, dumification, hook-up, choking, marking, spanking, facefucking, gagging, use of safe symbols, nipple play, overstimulation, unprotected sex, creampie, slight exhibitionism, semi-public sex, sex in a study room
Word count: 4k
Someone told you once long ago that hate is a strong word. Apparently, they had never experienced loathing before. To you, hate always seemed to be something playful, something a little teasing. When your best friends would mock you for the most insignificant things, you would say “cut that shit out. You know that I hate you right?”
Loathing is much more fun. Loathing holds more of an edge. Loathing keeps you up at night, and lingers in your mind. Loathing digs into your skin like a papercut, coming back to sting later when you stretch your skin. Loathing made you feel all twisted up inside. This one super-massive emotion is one that clings to you and makes you jealous and irritable, and the best of all, competitive.
You don’t know what you would be without loathing...if not for him.
But as much as you loathed him, he was the perfect elixir of sugar-coated poison.
He kept you up at night. He lingered in your mind.
Everything about you, he had to do too. You didn’t know at this point if it was some kind of joke, or that the two of you had miraculously been crafted to be just that similar.
Since the day that you had met him three years ago in undergrad, there wasn’t one class that the two of you didn’t share. Every single job that you applied to, he would apply to as well. Each professor that you would introduce yourself to, the next day he would be cozied up next to them talking about some kind of bullshit and pretended to care about their personal lives. He even chose the exact same grad program as you.
When the two of you graduated, it was him who sucked in his lip, never breaking with your eyes when he received higher honors than you. He probably loathed you too.
That would keep you up at night too.
There were other things about him as well that would creep into the corners of your sleep deprived brain. You would stare into the darkness of your room, eyes glued to the ceiling with your mind exploring shameless answers.
During these dark nights, your hand would absentmindedly cascade down your body, snaking your fingers down the soft of your skin. Behind your eyes, it was him sending shivers down your body. It was his lithe fingers, not yours, that would reach down to your aching sex to pleasure you into all the fantasies that only remained within the confines of your own mind. Before you would climax, it was his name that you whispered out into the air, not even knowing that you did.
“Jeonghan.”
•·················•·················•
“Are you going to finish that, or what?”
Seungcheol rummaged around your bag of chips that were barely touched.
Your highlighter skimmed over your page, you twisted the writing utensils around in your hand to scratch down a note with your pen. Truthfully, you hadn’t heard him.
“...I mean, if you don’t, I will. Can’t let stuff like this go to waste.” He held the bag in his lap, happily crunching away and tapping his foot a little.
“--Can you chew quieter?”
“...Me?”
“Yes, you.” You bopped him softly on top of his wavy caramel hair with your marked up article.
Seungcheol cringed and rubbed the top of his head as if you had hit him with something much denser than a stack of paper.
“In my defense, there isn’t really a quiet way to eat chips.” He popped another one in. “Are you gonna be done soon? It’s too...still out here.”
“You’re the one that suggested coming here!”
His puppy-like face turned combative. “I did!...only because I think it’s pretty though.” Your friend shied away, trying to uphold his promise of “chewing quieter,” and subsequently failing.
He wasn’t wrong however, the courtyard in the middle of the library was very pretty, and you had been glad that he had suggested the two of you take lunch there. Inside the square shaped yard, a few trees had been planted with low swaying branches of little oval shaped leaves. There were hedges and a myriad of flowering plants with petals that were pink or yellow or purple. Somehow the little square was untouched by sound, save for a couple songbirds. Had you not a copious amount of work to take care of, you would have admired it all for hours.
“--And to answer your question, no, I will not be done soon. Sorry. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”
Seungcheol cooly threw one of his arms over the silver outdoor chair next to him, shaking you off. “I don’t mind. I don’t have anything else that I really wanna be doing right now.”
“--Your thesis maybe?” You crashed your knee into his under the table and threw him a teasing smirk.
“I said, anything that I want to do.”
You nabbed one of your chips back. “Suit yourself then.”
The door to the courtyard clicked, followed by the creak of the old library door. Such a metallic sound stole the tranquility of the whole space.
“Y/n.”
Jeonghan came floating behind you, dressed in his usual attire: some type of glamorous pairing of dress pants and a button down as well as shoes that looked as if they had just been shined. He wore some kind of cologne that draped after him with a dizzying type of efflorescence. Everything about him was meticulously planned, down to the few purposefully unkempt strands of chocolate brown hair on his forehead.
He craned his neck a little to see your messy scribbles.
“You’re reading Nebasifu?”
Jeonghan leaned over you, tracing a finger over the neon orange highlights you had made. He shocked you with how close he had let himself get to you, practically encapsulating you in his arms. You found yourself staring into his neck, that floral scent forcibly permeating your air.
“Hmm.”
He hummed as he read over your notes. “Interesting conclusions right? The fact that in governance we create more problems when trying to solves the ones we have already made? It’s all so circular isn’t it?”
Your sweating palm crunched the paper out from under his fingertips.
“--Really interesting. I’d like to finish it...if you please.” While your words were polite, but they still bit.
“I can recommend more similar readings if you’re interested?”
“I’m fine. Thanks for the offer.”
“If it doesn’t make sense, you can always reach out, we can talk it through...I’ve found that discussing--”
“--I said that I’m fine. Nice talking to you Jeonghan.” You cast your eyes down to your paper and attempt to slow your viciously beating chest.
fucking leave. You pleaded, knuckles turning white around your pen.
“Alright then. See you later.” He straightened his glasses upon his nose bridge. “I look forward to hearing what you have to say about the topics later.”
He swept his hand lightly across your back. It was the most fleeting of gestures, but your entire body froze from it.
Jeonghan situated himself at one of the benches and drew out a book. He sat in the direct beams of the afternoon sun. The brown wisps of hair that hit the light looked nearly golden. You loathed that he was breathtaking without even really trying.
Seungcheol grinded his teeth, muttering out, “Fucking creep. He can’t talk to you like that.” Even quieter, “I’ll take him out for you if you want me to.”
You stifled a laugh. You couldn’t help your eyes which would flutter over to him like it was forbidden.
“No, don’t do that. But thank you ‘Cheol.”
“I’ll do it! I swear...”
•·················•·················•
Jeonghan had a terrible habit. Not like it was particularly distracting, it was just something that you had taken notice of. From where you would sit nearly across the room from him, he would remove his glasses, then rest one of the temple tips between his lips. Sometimes, the click of his teeth would meet the plastic. It was a simple action, but the way that the little curve would rest on the pink of his lips made your mind wonder...the poison that would leave those same lips couldn’t have been real; not when they looked so sweet.
“--anyone want to share what they got out of the readings and case studies? What can we learn about our interference and the sovereignty of other states?”
You were only partially paying attention when Jeonghan silently rose his hand.
“I think that Y/n had a particularly interesting oponion on this. We were discussing this previously.” He curved his body around to meet your eyes which had already been inspecting him.
With an expectant crossing of his arms, your professor approached your desk. “Y/n?”
Everyone’s eyes were on you, but Jeonghan’s burned with the hottest flame.
You took your shaking hands into your lap, then gave your oponion as eloquently as you could, swallowing down your nerves. As usual, you were perfectly well spoken, as you knew you were. The professor nodded along with each point of your argument.
“--Very well articulated Y/n. And your counterpoints are provoking as well.” He finally turned to pace away. “Would anyone like to expand?”
Your professor’s body mass moved, revealing Jeonghan’s nearly sinful prideful smile. It was like he had given you a test, and you had passed magnificently. With the cock of his head, he mouthed,
“that was lovely.”
“I’d like to expand.” He piped, removing his glasses. Just as he always would, he tapped them between his lips, letting the skin fall a little by them. You had noticed it before, but they were smooth and plump. “I think that Y/n is correct...in many ways, but some points are a bit misguided, I would argue....”
•·················•·················•
[09:23 pm]
cheol: you coming back anytime soon? i can’t believe you’re doing this to me on a friday. is it really that serious?
[09:26 pm]
me: need I remind you that you should probably be here with me? thesis papers don’t write themselves.
cheol: and I should remind YOU that we literally just got off break? they aren’t due for months.
i know what you’re trying to prove.
it’s not worth it.
what does that asshole have over you?
“--Shouldn’t you be back at home with that golden retriever of yours?”
Jeonghan’s pen tapped at your table, white sleeves rolled up. The day had taken it’s toll on him. The bags under his eyes proved that even someone as picturesque as him could still be effected by your long days. Nevertheless disheveled, he was just as alluring.
“And shouldn’t you be flirting with one of your students?” You clicked your phone off.
“Cute. Luckily I’m not one of the desperate ones starving for the attention of the little undergrads. That's a different kind of pathetic.”
“Hmmm. I just thought that it was the attention that you were after.” Heat rose to your ears while you breathed your beating heart down.
"Who doesn’t like attention? Especially if it’s from the right people...speaking of undergrads...”
Jeonghan’s slender neck twisted to eye the obnoxious group of students huddled up on a table, giggling and making a mess of their snacks.
“You’re studying out here? I can’t even--”
“--I appreciate the concern, but you’re not helping my focus either.”
“Am I...distracting you?” Jeonghan swept his warm brown hair to the side with the cock of his eyebrow.
You shook out a sigh. “Yes.”
“You don’t have an office?”
“Department didn’t have any more.”
“I’ve got a study room that I host study sessions in. You want to use it?”
“You’re offering to help me?”
“Listen, I know how hard our program can be, and I appreciate how hard you work. You deserve a quiet place to work.”
“Are you complimenting me?”
“Don’t make me change my mind...and what would I do if the competition suddenly dropped out?” He tapped the table with his fingertips. “That wouldn’t be very much fun.”
•·················•·················•
Jeonghan’s study room was simple, just like all the others in the library. It was stark, white, the tables were a bit banged up and the white board was riddled with little ink remnants. There were glass windows nearly everywhere so you could overlook both the outdoors and the rest of the library on the opposite wall. As the two of you entered, he calmly closed all the blinds.
“No distractions right?” He looked back to you.
“...do you have something that you need to get done too?”
“Not really. I’ve submitted a good chunk of my thesis for review.”
Of course he had.
“I’m just waiting to hear back.”
He crossed the room to sit directly next to you, slinging his legs up on the table and taking out that same book from earlier: it had some pretentious title that you had never heard of before.
“Don’t mind me.” He chided your straying eyes. “I’m only staying to lock the door after you.”
“I-I’m not...” Your eyes feel back to your computer and you typed at your keyboard just to fill the sound of the quiet room.
Sitting this close to you, you could smell that dizzyingly sweet smell of his again.
You loathed him for the way that he could be doing nothing and you could be enthralled in merely that.
Jeonghan’s eyes didn’t leave his page. “The more that you look at me, the less you’re working.”
You hadn’t even noticed.
“I guess I’m more distracting than I thought.”
Furious heat rose from the pit of your stomach to the tips of your ears.
“What the hell do you get off on?” You spat.
He calmly placed his book on the table. “What are you referring to?”
“For the past three years, you haven’t left me alone for a single second, you-you always do everything that I do like you’re on some kind of sick quest to prove that you’re better than me, better than anyone else--”
“--You think that I’m copying you?”
“Wha-what else would you be doing?”
“--Getting an education? God, you think that I’m the attention whore, aren’t you hearing yourself?? You must think that I’m obsessed with you.”
“What is it then? A superiority complex so fucking huge--”
“--You’re asking what it is that I want?”
You nodded back with heaving breaths.
“What I get off on? Well...” Jeonghan chuckled a little and raked his hands through his brown strands. “You don’t deserve to know. But there is one thing that I’ve wanted for a while that I haven’t been able to get my hands on. I suppose that’s what I want most.”
“And that is?”
Tentatively, he rose his hand nearer to you, saying nothing, his aura shifting from cocky to intrigued. At first, his fingers traced over the skin of your hand as if he was drawing little pictures into it. After he brushed his hand up your arm to weave a little strand of your hair around his fingers.
“I said you don’t deserve to know.”
You must have been in a daze; some kind of waking intoxication before your thoughts could catch up with your actions. It was almost as if you weren’t thinking anything at all, but where acting on prime instinct. Your whole body screamed with utter frustration: every word that he spoke to you make you loathe him even more, you wouldn’t ever let him get away with it.
There was something that you too wanted most, no matter how abhorrent it was.
Your thighs squeezed into his sides where you had straddled him in his chair, holding on to him so tightly it hurt your muscles. The haste on your lips on his was messy and hot, a smearing of skin and teeth crashing together with fury, tongues rolling off eachother with an undeniable hunger. His arms didn’t wrap around you but rather clawed in your hair, pulling slightly at the roots while he pulled you in impossibly close. The mixing of your gasping breaths together where whiny and yearning. As he kissed into you, his lips curled into a devilish smile.
In your arousal, you shoved your hips into his lap, grinding down into your excitement and seeking some from him. To your surprise, you could feel his hardening dick which only made you weaker. All the hundreds of little fantasies that you had held so secret started to dance in your mind; your darkest thoughts pleaded for him to destroy you, to ravage you, just as you had imagined.
Jeonghan’s lips tore from your own which he had worked until they were swollen. He mouthed down your jaw to your neck, sucking at the skin with no chance of mercy, he pulled and sucked until you could only pathetically beg for him to slow down for fear of him breaking the skin.
He stopped immediately to pull your shirt over your head and pick up his work there. The wet of his gorgeously plump lips on your skin was as perfect as you had imagined and it sent shivers echoing through all your limbs.
“Jeong-Jeonghan--”
This time you perfectly aware that it was indeed his name that would escaping off your tongue.
“You dumb slut, you thought I didn’t know that you wanted me?”
“You-you want me too?”
Jeonghan worked at the buttons on your pants.
“Wanting implies that I like you. What I want most is to make you my toy. There’s a difference.”
You mumbled out the words knowing exactly how he would take them. “I’m not a fucking toy.”
Jeonghan tsked and unbuttoned his own shirt. “You don’t get to decide that.”
You drew your fingers down his model-like toned chest, marveling in the pink lines. Jeonghan grunted in response, taking you by the underside of your thighs to throw you down on your back against the hard plastic. Once he had the chance, he ridded you of your bottoms, running his hands up your inner legs to send you reeling. For a couple seconds, you could have sworn that he had stopped to admire your body, but he wouldn’t let you tell too easily.
“That door isn’t locked.”
“What? Are you scared that someone could walk in? Scared to for someone to see you all splayed out like this?” He rose to kiss up your stomach and up to your nipples. He flicked them between his fingers. “To have someone see me making a wreck of you?”
“N-no.”
With saliva drying on your sensitive buds, they turned hard in seconds when they met the air. Jeonghan wasn’t hesitant to pull at them with his teeth slightly, making you whine for him even more.
“What should I do to you first?”
One of his hands trickled down your body to palm at your quivering sex, slick with your excitement for him and aching for the smallest of touches.
“You want it that bad? Stupid whore.”
Your hand ventured down to tease at his own dick over the fabric of his slacks.
“You want it that bad?”
“Get off.” He growled at you, then took you by the arms to jerk you off of the table and onto your knees at the floor. Under your knees, the burn of the carpet stung. His belt buckle jingled a little as he hooked a finger in to remove it. Afterword, he shook his pants off followed by his briefs, springing loose his twitching member with the tip pink. He combed his fingers through your hair while he tapped his dick against your lips.
“Fucking take it.”
You would have fought him on it, but you succumbed out of your pure curiosity over his girth.
At first, you coaxed him into your mouth, not going in too deep as you were fearful about his length. Regardless, you took him in as best as you could, hollowing out your cheeks and throat, sucking with your lips and grabbing at his legs.
Jeonghan hissed out a sigh, letting himself fall further into the warmth of your mouth. He pushed at your head slightly, bringing you in just deep enough to trigger your gag reflex.
“Mmm there you go.” He cooed.
You kept going as he liked it, gradually working up in pace while it got a bit harder and harder for you to catch your breath.
“That’s as deep as you can go? Can’t even take a dick into your throat?”
His grip on your head tightened.
Jeonghan whispered, “Squeeze my leg if you want me to stop.” before helping your head all the way down, causing you to gag even harder and for tears to well in your eyes. “That’s more like it.”
He continued guiding your head, and slobber started to form around your mouth You felt so weak and pliable around him, he was thankless aside from the tiny moans he would let escape past his lips for you.
Usable as you felt, it was still a deliciously addictive feeling.
All at once, he tore out of your mouth to bring you back up to your feet. In seconds he had turned you around to bend over the plastic tabletop, elbows digging into the cool surface. By now, you were practically dripping for him with knees and legs weak from kneeling. He kicked your legs open farther, gifting your ass a piercing slap that stung, then another followed after.
“Hungry for my cock, hmm?”
He teased your entrance without warning, sending your body crumbling over the table into a mess of whimpers and curses clenched behind your teeth. His lithe fingers were your fantasy come to life.
“I-I can’t wait any longer...” You urged him on.
Jeonghan pushed your face into the table then slid his fingers above to curl around your neck. He encircled around the skin slowly, then dug in to close your airway. You choked out desperate little sounds, then he entered you carefully, making sure that you felt every part of him.
“Hmm. Pretty...” He allowed you. Even though it was just one word of praise, you reveled in it.
His pale fingers choked you harder for a few more seconds until he properly got his pace inside of you, letting go to hold you by your waist. Once again, he clapped his hand into your skin as he fucked into you. All you could manage to do with your hands was claw helplessly at the smooth tabletop seeking some kind of balance that was nowhere to be found. He grazed the deepest and most sensitive spot within you and you felt yourself nearly reaching your climax.
“I-is that all that you can do?” You turned his confidence back against him, spurring him on just as you had wanted. He snapped his hips even faster, groaning out as he neared his release.
“My pretty little fucktoy. You’re all mine? Got it?”
Jeonghan leaned over your back to pant the words into your ear.
“Fucking say it.”
“I-I’m...” Your focus was scrambled as your orgasm pooled within.
“I’m yours...your...pretty-mm-fucktoy.”
Jeonghan came inside of you with white heat, pulsating forcefully, with you following soon after while he milked himself with your walls. Even as you still came down, he rolled his hips into you over and over until your whole body was shaking helplessly.
“That’s right.” He pulled out, then pulled your legs apart to watch his cum fall out of your hole.
Jeonghan laughed to himself, “Thank you for giving me what I wanted.”
#PHEW#my first time writing dom hannie and I'm shook!#ahhhh#seventeen#seventeen smut#svt#svt smut#seventeen imagines#seventeen drabbles#seventeen oneshot#jeonghan x reader#jeonghan x you#jeonghan x y/n#yoon jeonghan#jeonghan#choi seungcheol#seungcheol#kpop smut#kpop imagines#kpop angst#seventeen angst#kpop drabbles#kpop oneshots#not me projecting my political science minor into this smut ahaha#also tell me why I am simping over bestfriend!cheol??
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Show: Wayward Sisters or Jackles sequel reboot? (As in continued not the prequel)
Characters: Honey Cas or Endverse Cas
Pairings: Jackles/Dean or Misha/Cas (could just be meeting idk trying to think of something thought provoking)
Anything: Charlie and Cas shenanigans episode or Eileen and Cas shenanigans episode
hi!! i am so sorry for the late reply. i started answering this and then got tired and then forgot about it completely until just now but thank you for the ask!!
Shows:
okay i liked Wayward Sisters but (oh this is gonna get me vilified on here) i guess i'm not as big of a supporter of it as others on here are? for me to really be into something, i need several episodes of it preferably even after one another and i just feel like the characters weren't fleshed out as well as they could have? i mean i loveeee jody and donna and i liked claire but besides them, i didn't feel like the characters were as fleshed out as they could have been? and we didn't see enough of them for me to be invested i guess? and the other thing is that we only got a pilot that set up the story for them (i mean we got stuff before that but the pilot was a sort of beginning) and just a backdoor pilot is not enough for me to love it? i WISH they did pick it up so that I could see an actual pilot and episodes after that where the characters could stand on there own. honestly pretty much all shows that i have watched for years, i still don't feel connected to the characters because they're not as fleshed out as they should be. But i do think, with Bobo at the helm, that if Wayward Sisters was given an actual go, the characters would have started to be more fleshed out. So for everyone on here, i wish that Wayward Sisters was picked up because I know how much it means for everyone on here
BUTTTTT selfishly, i would want the Jackles sequel reboot because from what he's said and the people he's brought on or what has been speculated, i think we could be pleasantly surprised (even though i hate john winchester's guts) but i really wanna see what he's gonna do.
Characters:
they're both so depressing but in different ways. i guess endverse!cas purely because honey!cas was just abandoned in that hospital. enverse!cas at least was by dean's side. but both of them mentally not healthy at all which is saying something because all three of tfw isn't mentally well in the present of this show either.
Pairings:
Okay, i thought about it when i first got this ask and i had this really clever answer but i've forgotten the first part lol. but jackles/dean because dean would wanna bang jensen (before cas came into the picture) and jensen is so severely enamored by dean, i guess he'd let him (as far as we're thinking about this). Misha i feel like has given so much to get cas as in love with dean, he wouldn't touch cas and cas would also just not be interested because he's just dean all the way even before he realized it.
Anything:
Charlie and Cas 100%. I just love charlie sooooooo much and i would have loved for her to not be murdered (fucking buckleming) and for her and cas to go off and have adventures and for her to question him about dean and him not getting it etc.
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