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#the glory fanfiction

authorforrosie · 1 year

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Dating Moon Dong eun from the glory includes:

•You meet Moon Dong Eun for the first time when she became your work colleague since you are an art teacher at the Semyeong Elementary School. She had a problem to show her emotions but you learned how to get through her thick emotional walls. She fell in love with you after a while and you become friends before lovers.

•Moon Dong Eun finally noticed you and her feelings for you. She felt a little guilty that she was too focused on the revenge before to notice how you both feel for each other.

•You asked Moon Dong Eun to be your girlfriend after you took a walk with her in a park. When you both went on a date at the movie theater.

•Moon Dong Eun felt very grateful to have you in her life. She loved when you both cuddled or how you help her when her trauma comes back in nightmares and triggers.

•Moon Dong Eun is not much into PDA. Only if she is jealous or feeling angry. She would show you through physically affection, date's, get away's and presents how much she loves you.

•You are good bounding with her friends which caused Moon Dong Eun secretly happiness. Whenever you and her friends aren't looking. She smiled small with her sunglasses on.

•Moon Dong Eun never hesitate to take care of you mentally, physically and emotional. If she can't be with you she ask you if you have take care of yourself or ask someone close to you both to make sure that you take care of yourself.

•You enjoyed how private your relationship is with Moon Dong Eun. You both know that you are in relationship with each other and mostly love each other behind closed doors.

•Moon Dong Eun asked you to marry her when you went into a hotel get away with your and her friends. Who recommended your very emotional reaction. You cried saying yes, yes, yes! You both cried and she hugged you. Your and her friends screamed in happiness when you both hold your rings to the camera.

•You couldn't wait to marry the love of your entire life Moon Dong Eun. Who already made sure that your bride dress will look absolutely breathtaking on you. Since you have done so much for her.

•Moon Dong Eun asked your closest friends, best friend and family to marry you in a beautiful flower garden. Where are flowers in many different bright colors.

•You saw tears in Moon Dong Eun's beautiful eyes when you walked towards the aisle in your white bride dress. That looked breathtaking on you in her eyes. She looked absolutely glorious in the black Chanel dress.

•Moon Dong Eun secretly saved up all the money that she got as a elementary school teacher to buy a house for you both. Since she couldn't wait to settle down with you. You both would enjoy the marriage life first until you are ready to have your own children.

•You both decided that you would carry the children. Since according to her you would look perfect pregnant and that you are one of the strongest person she knows.

•Moon Dong Eun cried with proudness and happiness when you give birth. She held your hand and kissed your sweaty forehead. She cried with you. Sparkle in her eyes when she saw the children coming out. She vowed to be the best mother and to love your children unconditionally. You already knew that Moon Dong Eun will be a better mother than her own mother.

•You both teach your children a lot. Especially that they should always treat everyone around them with kindness. Because the quote you treat people the way you wanna be treated. You teach them how to cook, bake and another language when they are old enough. Moon Dong Eun helps them with their homework.

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madwomansapologist · 5 months

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- park yeon-jin!

★ a private after party (nsfw, smut, cheating, rough sex).

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

#the glory #the glory fanfiction #the glory x reader #park yeon jin #park yeon jin x reader #park yeon-jin x reader #park yeon-jin

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chiriwritesstuff · 12 days

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Hometown Glory; a Frankie Morales Series Announcement!

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F! Lawyer Reader

Series Rating: E (18+, MDNI)

Series Summary: You're thriving in your career, having established yourself as a sought-after family lawyer in the bustling city. But there's a pull back to your hometown, a longing for roots and a sense of belonging that drives you to open your own firm there.

Just as you're settling into this new chapter, a blast from the past walks through your office doors. It's him—the man who unknowingly held your heart, the one you never quite got over. A face you swore you would never see again... and he's seeking your legal help for his divorce and custody battle from the girl you believed to be your best friend.

You two never officially dated, but the chemistry between you was undeniable. Yet a string of misunderstandings and missed chances kept you apart, leaving you with lingering feelings and unanswered questions.

Now, as you find yourself face-to-face with him again, old emotions resurface, along with memories of what could have been. But amidst the legal complexities of his divorce, you realize this might be the opportunity you've been waiting for—to finally address the lingering feelings between you and uncover the truth that has kept you apart for so long.

Series Warnings and Tags: Frankie and reader meet as kids, jealous best friends, reader has issues with trying to be perfect, complete misunderstandings, someone manipulates them out of being together, all of the cute flashbacks, lawyer goes from sweetheart to ice queen to back to the hometown glory, 'hes no good for you', its me and you against the world (or this town), this will be so sexy but SLOW BURN, that dreaded prom night, second chances, he's always loved her, shes always loved him, fix him fic, he shows her how to live.

Chapter 1 - Back to the Old House, coming soon!

#ok nonnie you GOT ME #fic: hometown glory #Hometown Glory #frankie 'catfish' morales #frankie morales #friends to enemies to lovers #unrequited love #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic #yearning #all of the pining and yearning #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie catfish morales

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quackberri · 7 months

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writing fanfiction for fandoms with any less then 100 fics makes me feel like a palaeontologist adding to a history museum. except i don't think palaeontologists make the dinosaurs

#fanfic #fanfiction #fandom #like seriously im desperate i don't want to be the only person in this fandom in the entire world #i'm find dinosaurs #if my school tracks my account down and finds what i've written i'll die in glory

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gowonzu2 · 2 months

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"You have no idea what I'm willing to do to protect the people I love." Got more art commissioned by the talented Mikezzzzz https://www.deviantart.com/mikezzzzz

Art for my Worm Fan Fiction: My Girlfriend Is Terrifying!

#parahumans #worm #taylor hebert #lisa wilbourn #skitter #tattletale #victoria dallon #glory girl #coil #commisioned art #Mikezzz #My Girlfriend Is Terrifying #worm fanfiction #worm fanart

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kurtsascot · 1 month

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Ugh, As If!

read klueless, a klaine!clueless au, on ao3!!!!

HQ Version of Cover Art ; Art Ref Image

Summary: It’s 1995. Kurt’s a senior at McKinley High, and he’s looking to lose his virginity and get his love life in order before he goes off to college.

Unfortunately, Blaine, the pretentious son of Burt’s ex-wife, is in Lima to intern for Burt’s congressional reelection campaign, and Kurt is stuck dealing with him until the election is over.

Art: alice / @warblercore @mistyintherivers

Rating: M*

Key Tags: enemies to lovers, but its more like, oblivious idiots to lovers, kurt’s more oblivious than blaine, romcom shenanigans, 90s slang, humor, virginity, falling in love, forced proximity, first time*, pining, hurt/comfort, fluff, slowburn, kind of ?, internalized homophobia, period appropriate homophobia but like…as little as possible, klaine endgame

Soundtrack (updated as chapters go live)

closeups under the read more !!

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youryurigoddess · 5 days

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The Small Back Room — Hour of Glory (1949)

Good Omens 2 begins with the visit to The Small Back Room not because it was meant to serve as an exposition scene for Maggie and her record shop. It’s a substantial foreshadowing of the main plot and the relationship changes between Aziraphale and Crowley.

As all the other classics referenced throughout the show, this 1949 Powell and Pressburger production is easily available online — whenever you have 100 minutes to spare, I highly encourage you to watch it.

Our story begins with the arrival of Stuart, a British military captain, who makes his way through a labyrinth of offices towards a small building — the research section led by an eccentric, queer-coded, bow tie wearing professor Mair — to ask for help with a secret Nazi weapon.

That’s when the professor calls our hero, Sammy Rice — an engineer and bomb disposal expert in the service of Her Majesty’s government and, not accidentally, the most brooding, wounded man in Powell and Pressburger’s impressive canon of dysfunctional and alienated characters.

Due to a prosthetic foot keeping him from active service and confining to work in the titular back room instead, Rice is dramatically slipping into alcoholism. Haunted by self-loathing and disappointment with the internal politics, he can’t see the point of his research anymore.

Sammy is also conducting a clandestine affair with the secretary of his research unit, Susan. They live in the same building and meet regularly, but can’t openly enjoy their company or even dance due to his injury, which makes him even more bitter and pathologically determined to wear her angelic patience down.

Susan puts up with it until the minister is forced to resign. She knows that if non-scientists take over, their section will become useless, Rice even more difficult, and the war possibly lost. She urges him to take action and when he dramatically refuses to make a difference, she leaves him.

Seemingly at his lowest now, Rice becomes a sudden chance to redeem himself. Captain Stuart calls him about two unexploded booby traps found in Wales, but left to himself, he dies during a heroic attempt to dismantle one of the thermos-like devices before our engineer arrives at the scene.

In a nerve-jangling finale, Stuart’s notes help Rice dismantle the second device. He becomes a hero, gets an officer commission as head of the new scientific unit, and discovers that Susan not only came back in the meantime, but repaired everything he drunkenly destroyed in the apartment after their breakup.

The parallels seem straightforward enough for me to add that in this context the role of Maggie through most of S2 may particularly reflect Crowley’s stagnancy in both work and love life. And if you’re unsure why the demon identifies with the heroic roles and characters, you might want to read this post on the subject.

Now, The Small Back Room was distributed in the US under another title — Hour of Glory. Which happens to be a specific Bible term referring to Christ’s “hour”, the period supposed to consummate all of his work on Earth and reveal God’s ultimate plan of salvation: the Son’s death.

John 12:20-36 Jesus replied, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Very truly I tell you, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds. Anyone who loves their life will lose it, while anyone who hates their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me; and where I am, my servant also will be. My Father will honor the one who serves me. Now my soul is troubled, and what shall I say? ‘Father, save me from this hour’? No, it was for this very reason I came to this hour. Father, glorify your name.” Then a voice came from heaven, “I have glorified it, and will glorify it again.” The crowd that was there and heard it said it had thundered; others said an angel had spoken to him. Jesus said, “This voice was for your benefit, not mine. Now is the time for judgment on this world; now the prince of this world will be driven out. And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.”

Christ’s hour began in the garden — this time the garden of Gethsemane — as he prayed passionately for the cup to be passed from him, similarly to Aziraphale declining Metatron’s offers on screen, both regarding the hot drink and his reinstatement as part of the Heavenly Host:

Luke 22:42 “Father, if you are willing, please take this cup of suffering away from me. Yet I want your will to be done, not mine.”

All throughout the Old Testament, we see God’s wrath being described as a cup poured out on sin and those guilty of it. By accepting it, Jesus took the toll of all the sins — from Eden up until the last one to be committed right before his Second Coming — on himself, for the sake of his beloved humanity.

The passion of Christ continued as Judas betrayed him with a kiss, his disciples abandoned him, and the high priest accused him of crimes he was not guilty of. Even Pilate, the prefect of Rome, pretended to uphold the law; and remember we already expect a S3 trial based on another Archers movie.

All in all, it’s an hour of great injustice and pain, but also glory of God. We’re led to believe that the Ineffable Plan will similarly triumph over the great one (or whatever Metatron tries to implement at the moment), as it did in S1. And its ending will be a good one, back in a garden.

#bible fanfiction #actually quoting bible #cup of suffering #give me coffee or give me death #the small back room #hour of glory #good omens #good omens meta #good omens analysis #final fifteen #crowley #crowley is a superhero #aziraphale #supreme archangel aziraphale #ineffable husbands #yuri is doing her thing #drinking coffee #an oat milk latte with a dash of almond syrup

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chasingfigments · 1 month

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Chapters: 1/12 Fandom: Batman - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Jason Todd Characters: Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Kidnapping, Imprisonment, Non-Consensual Drug Use, in order to achieve the kidnapping, Blood and Injury, Explosions, jason is going to blow up so many things, suffocation, Not in a sexy way, food/water restriction as a form of control, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Emotionally Hurt Dick Grayson, Tim Drake is Robin, Angst

The ringtone lets Bruce know before he’s even pulled the phone out that someone in his family is calling from a civilian line, which—given the current hour—should mean Alfred is calling. The caller ID displays Tim Drake instead.

Threads of concern and apprehension coil through him, but it’s possible—something prevented Tim from heading out with Dick tonight. If he were sick, or injured, Alfred would have let him know already, but it’s possible something came up with school or his friends. Dick would be just fine handling a solo night in the Batman suit.

There’s no proof that anything is wrong yet. Bruce takes a steady breath and accepts the call. “Hey, Tim,” he says as he unlocks his car. “I’m—”

“Sorry,” a mechanized voice cuts in, and Bruce goes still, fingers curled around the driver door handle. “Tim’s not available right now.”

Or: Instead of taking over the drug trade, Red Hood kidnaps Bruce Wayne.

(Inspired by this prompt by @ghost-bxrd.)

#jason todd #bruce wayne #dick grayson #tim drake #batman fanfiction #for some desperate glory

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sailor-aviator · 6 months

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"Archeology is the search for fact, not truth."

I've always loved the Indiana Jones movies, and wanted to go on adventures like he did when I was a little kid. I don't know how y'all managed to rope me into it, but you did! So here's a little moodboard for Indiana Jones!Jake "Hangman" Seresin! Coming eventually!

Masterlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

Tag List: @jakeseresinlover @fanficfandomlove @goldenseresinretriever @haley-hotchner @queerqueenlynn @nicestgirlonline @dempy @aworldwideapart @stoptaking-the-good-names @maximus890 @sky2nd @devil-angel-winchester @hopip99 @hookslove1592 @lemmons1998 @yuckosworld @uniquedreamlandcheesecake @imamomof8 @pietrothemovie @comicgollum20 @kmc1989 @mayhemmanaged @cassiemitchell @rhettsluvr @imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog @deliriousfangirl61 @devrill @hangmandruigandmav @blue-eyed-mary @na-ta-sh-aa @witchybabel

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lara-frasers · 6 months

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A fight for love and glory

Chapter 8: No Faith

You can read it here

Follow me on twitter for updates

#jamie x claire #jamieclaire #outlander #pianist!jamie #a fight for love and glory #fic #outlander fic #outlander fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #fanfic

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cmph-992 · 1 year

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“The sight which had caused him to shout was not Voldemort… but himself.

The surface above the four-poster bed on which he slept was a giant mirror. Harry was looking up at himself, and it was an extremely unsettling sight to see upon waking. His face, jaw, and neck were still covered in dried blood. His hair was even wilder than it usually was—longer than he'd ever had it before and looking like he'd just stepped out of a windstorm.

But those features were nothing at all compared to his eyes.

Red.

Vibrant, ruby red.”

No Glory, @obsidianpen

***

I wanted to capture the feeling of dissonance Harry feels when looking into the enchanted mirrors in Malfoy manor to see himself with Voldemort’s eyes. Harry lost something so concrete, his mothers eyes, what else will he loose in the process.

#artwork #art #drawing #artists on tumblr #sketch #portrait #digital art #harry potter #tom riddle #tomarry #obsidianpen #no glory #tomarry fanfiction #tomarry fanart

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madwomansapologist · 4 months

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a private after party | park yeon-jin

Navigation | More Park Yeon-Jin | AO3

synopsis: It was just a party for award that Lee Sa-ra received. It was huge one, full of important people. But what really mattered was how you and Yeon-jin celebrated when no one was watching.

warnings: red flags? yeah, i've noticed them. smut. rough sex. degradation. praising. thigh riding. choking. s&m. masturbation. alcohol consumption. smoking. cheating (i'm so sorry ha do-yeong you deserve so much better my king). gn!reader is also part of the asshole club.

You both could've say it was an accident. A mistake. That after hours of feasting on whatever Lee Sa-ra mixed in your glasses stopped you both from thinking straight. That it meant nothing.

But that's not true.

It wasn't a mistake. Every second spend with Yeon-jin can't be a mistake. It wasn't the first time, or the second, nor the third. It wasn't a accident. No stupid party or expensive alcohol was responsible for anything.

The fault is on you for getting away from your friends and search for a empty room in that Gallery. The fault is on you for calling Yeon-jin — by dialing her number, because touching her contact would be too easy. The fault is on her for telling Ha Do-yeong to go home earlier, that she just wants to make sure her friends get home safe. The fault is on her for climbing three flights of stairs without once thinking about turning back and heading home instead.

But when Yeon-jin locked the door, the fault was on you both.

"Red wine?" Sitting in one of the armchairs, you smirked. "Are we celebrating?"

"Sa-ra just got awarded," leaning against the door, Yeon-jin held the bottle with both hands. She took a sip, straight from the bottle, and walked over to you. "Of course we are."

You reached out, but Yeon-jin pushed the bottle away from you. She took another sip, looking deep into your eyes, before giving in. After drinking a bit, you put bottle on the corner table. "That's a pretty dress you're wearing."

Yeon-jin rolled her eyes. "I'd look better naked."

"I know you do," you smiled, and once again Yeon-jin got reminded on why she loves you so much. The way your eyes darken when you have fun, your lips curling up when you smile, all your beautiful hair. You have kind words and behaves nicely, but you're just like her. "Still, all I can think about is Monica Lewinski."

Yeon Jin slid his knee against his thigh, and then rested his hands on the armchair behind his body. Her knee came up, pressing against your panties, and the evil smile finally appeared on her face. "You're already drunk, aren't you?"

"You never cared about this before. Neither did I," you licked your lips. You tugged at the hem of your red dress. "You're perfect, but you look even better when you wear my clothes."

Yeon-jin bent down until their noses brushed. You moved forward instinctively, but she decided to explore your neck. You smelled like wine, and tasted like something sweeter.

"He didn't even noticed," Yeon-jin laughed against your skin. "And he thinks he's so smart. So above anyone else."

"I could fuck you in front of him and he still wouldn't understand a thing," you could almost sense her pussy throbing. Yeon-jin has a weak point for talking shit about her husband. "Maybe I should try next time he invites me to dinner with you both. Show him how you need to be treated."

Her eyes got darker. "And how's that?" You don't know how she does that, but she does. And often.

Your fingers tightened around her waist, forcing her to sit on your lap. You grabbed her chin, nails piercing the soft skin. Yeon-jin didn't even realize she rolled her hips against your thights. It was instinctive.

"Like a needy bitch."

Your hand went up to her neck, and you held it tightly. Her gasp vibrated up your arm. "Aren't you even going to pretend I'm wrong?" You squeezed her waist. "Won't you at least pretend not to be my little bitch?"

Yeon Jin shut you up with a kiss. She threw herself against you, her fingers pulling your hair in an attempt to bring you even closer to her, and melted against your body.

You forced her waist down, feeling how soaked the fabric of her panties already was. She leaned on your shoulders, sliding against you. Yeon-jin lifted her dress, exposing her black lingerie.

Yeon-jin has never been the type to ask for what she wants. She just takes it.

You squeezed her body, your fingers marking her ever so sensitive skin. Part of you wanted to really mark her. Sucking her neck, spanking her ass hard, scratching her back. You wanted to mark her as yours, expose to Ha Do-yeong how you managed to take from him the only thing that really mattered. How Yeon-jin was never his, always yours.

"You look so pretty underneath me," Yeon-jin moaned.

But you wouldn't do this to her.

Yeon-jin unzipped your pants, rubbing her fingers against you. With her touching you like that, looking at you like that, you couldn't help but feel complete.

But feel owned.

Yeon Jin drank more of the wine, and put the bottle in his mouth. Wine ran down your chin, dripped onto your clothes, but you didn't care. How could you?

You pulled her by her hair, bringing Yeon Jin's mouth to yours. You kissed her, making her drink the wine in your mouth, and moaned when Yeon-jin's hand became rougher. Less delicate. Just the way she knows you love it.

You're the only one that can make her head get empty. Bringing pleasure to Yeon-jin until that's all she is. A squirming little thing that only cares about having more of you. No one could replace you.

She's the only one that can make you desperate. That can turn you into something simple: into something needy. Someone that craves for her and only her. No one could make you forget her.

Open mouth, empty mind. Yeon-jin melting against your thigh, you breaking apart in her hand. Close eyes, full heart. No other drug can bring you both to ecstasy so easily.

"You're my favorite toy," Yeon-jin whimpered. A needy bitch. Your needy bitch. "My pretty, beautiful doll. You're the only one for me. You know that."

The mark of your nails on her throat were a proof of that. The stained dress on her body were a proof of that. The soaked pantie covering her used cunt were a proof of that. Yeon-jin calling your name at night, sleeping beside her husband, were a proof of that.

You took the bottle from her hand, taking a large sip. Darken eyes, curled up lips, your beautiful hair. Yeon-jin already knew what you would say, even before you opened your mouth. "I know that."

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

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chiriwritesstuff · 6 days

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Hometown Glory; 1. Back to the Old House

Series Masterlist

Chapter Rating: M

Chapter Summary: Glory and Frankie, two best friends from a small town in Texas, find themselves in different places as adults. They haven't spoken in years, yet find themselves being drawn back home, searching for... something they can't quite explain. Will they be able to find their purpose back to where it all began?

Chapter Warnings and Tags: Strong language, Frankie is going through it, Someone decides it's a good idea to dip in the middle of the night, Sexism in the workplace, Unstable family dynamics.

Word Count: 8k

1998 (16 years old)

It's a school night on a random Monday, and you're perched cross-legged in a boy's room, a bowl of popcorn resting precariously on your lap. With a mischievous grin, you snatch the remote control from said boy, clicking it over to ABC as he groans in annoyance.

"Hey! What the hell!" he grumbles in annoyance, "Don't you know it's rude to just take a man's remote?"

"It's my night, remember?" you remind him playfully. "There's a new episode of Ally McBeal, and I'm dying to find out what happened between Ally and Billy."

"Gross. Not the biggest fan of that girly romance shit-" he drawls from above, his arm snaking around your shoulder as he reaches for a handful of popcorn. "I would rather watch something cool, like that 70s show. At least it's funny."

You roll your eyes at his protest, a playful smirk dancing on your lips. "Come on, Frankie, let's be real here. We both know the only reason you want to watch it is because you have a huge crush on Jackie," you tease, nudging him lightly with your elbow. "But remember, we made a deal, Frankie baby. Mondays are my night!"

Frankie flops back onto his bed, his arms crossed over his chest in a mock pout. "Fine, but I reserve the right to complain the entire time," he declares, a faint smile on his lips. "I mean, at least Ally is kinda hot-"

You playfully toss a piece of popcorn at your best friend. "Anyway, remember when we had to write that paper in Mrs. Miller's class? About what we wanted to be when we grew up?" You lean in closer, your eyes fixed on Calista Flockhart as she flirts with Billy on the screen. "Well, I wrote that I wanted to be just like Ally," you share, taking a sip of Pepsi.

"What, like a lawyer?"

"No, like an actress. Of course like a lawyer!" you exclaim. "I mean, I love to argue-"

"Not correcting you there-"

"... and, it's like, so grown up, right? She looks like someone who has her shit together, her lack of love life notwithstanding, but still. I can see myself doing that!"

Frankie groans as he props himself up on his elbows, his warm breath tickling your ear. "I can totally see you doing that," he says with a chuckle, his voice close to your ear. "But hey, you're good at everything you set your mind to, Glo."

"Aw, Frankie... is that a compliment I hear? maybe I should check outside and see if any pigs are flying-"

"Very funny," he scoffs, joining you on the floor and reaching for the bowl of popcorn. "You know you're smart as hell, so I don't doubt that you can do it."

"What about you?" you ask, nudging his shoulder playfully.

"What about me?" he responds, his shoulder bumping against yours. "What do I want to be when I grow up? That's easy. I want to be a pilot."

"So, like... the military, then? Flying Black Hawks and getting everyone to safety? I always knew you had a hero complex," you tease, nudging him again.

Frankie grins, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "Yeah, something like that," he says, his voice full of wonder. "I've always wanted to serve my country, you know? And being a pilot in the military seems like the perfect way to do it. Plus, I get to carry a gun," he adds with a smirk. "Chicks dig that, you know?"

"Chicks? Frankie, I love you, but for the love of everything holy, please don't refer to women as "chicks", it's degrading-"

"Some chicks like to be degraded," he quips, cocking his head. "At least that's what the guys say in the locker room."

"Not me though," you muse, resting your head on his shoulder as he settles himself against you more, placing his arm around your shoulder as Ally and Billy kiss on screen. "I guess that makes me not like other girls, huh?"

You feel the slight rumble of his chest as he chuckles.

You swear you feel the ghost of his lips on your temple.

Frankie leans in, his breath warm against your ear. "No, Glory," he whispers. "You're so much more than most girls."

16 years later.

"Excuse me, I think I heard you wrong."

"No, you didn't," you retort firmly, eyeing the hefty stack of papers across from you, addressing the group of men- the partners and board members of the firm you decided to spend the last ten years of your life at seated before you. Settling back into the plush leather chair, you cross your legs with an air of confidence. "While I appreciate your acknowledgment of my ten years of hard work and the countless cases won," you pause for emphasis, casually inspecting your nails before meeting their gaze head-on, "...if it weren't for a stupid technicality, I'd be hailed as the first female lawyer in the entire state of New York with a flawless record, right?"

"Indeed, we recognize your almost-stellar track record," Nigel, the lead partner of your firm continues, glossing over your achievements like you expected, chuckling as he adjusts his suit collar. "That's precisely why we believe it's the perfect time to bring you on as a junior partner. We think you're ready."

"Junior Partner?" you echo, incredulous, your tone laced with a mixture of frustration and disbelief. "After all these years of fighting tooth and nail against men who were promoted with far less experience, after winning case after case and saving these assholes millions of dollars in alimony payments, I'm still only good enough to become a Junior Partner? Please. Please tell me you're joking." You lean forward, fixing them with a pointed stare, the intensity of your gaze daring them to justify their belated recognition.

The ten men in question, a mix of balding, beady-eyed partners and sharply dressed greying board members shift uncomfortably in their seats. The rustle of their tailored Armani suits rubbing against one another fills the room with a grating sound akin to nails on a chalkboard.

"It took me a decade to even get offered Junior Partner. How many more years until I'm considered for a full Partnership? Another decade?" you ask, your impatience seeping into each word.

"Is there something amiss?" another member of the board interjects, gesturing towards the stack of papers on the table once more. "We don't often extend promotions like this, especially to someone as young as yourself... or any woman, for that matter," he adds with a cough, a smirk playing on his lips as if he's cracked a clever joke. "Most would consider it a gift, wouldn't you agree?"

"I appreciate the offer, truly," you interject, "but I believe my worth exceeds what you're offering." Each word resonates with a sense of determination, a testament to the challenges you've overcome and the achievements you've earned in your career.

With a flick of your wrist, you push the stack of papers back across the conference table, the pages dancing in the air as the men across from you watch in disbelief. The gravity of your decision hangs heavy in the room. "I'm done," you announce firmly, the weight of your words echoing in the silence that follows.

The room fills with gasps as another suit interjects, his face flushed with anger. "I beg your pardon?!" he exclaims. "This isn't a negotiation, and it's a fair offer for someone of your talents," he spits.

You fix him with a steely gaze. "Tell me, Bill-" you retort sharply, "who's the most sought-after associate in this firm? Why do I have gold-digging socialites, cheating tech bros, and trigger-happy celebrities clamoring for a meeting with me at the front desk? Whose face is it on the news when the courts decide to rule in our favor? Certainly, it isn't any of you, that's for damn sure."

Gone is the girl from the small town off the outskirts of Austin, Texas- a former homecoming queen slash magna cum laude loved and cherished by a town that seemed so minuscule compared to the vastness and hunger of your ambition.

You were both a dreamer and a doer, tirelessly working and amassing scholarship after scholarship, grant after grant. Your sights were set on one school only: Yale. You believed that if you couldn't make it there from the start, settling for anything less wasn't an option.

"I'm gonna be like that when I grow up," you declared, flopping onto the lumpy couch as reruns of Law and Order SVU played in the background. Your Nana, her tight, white curls peeking out from the worn brown fabric of her La-Z-Boy, glanced at you with mild curiosity.

"Be like what?" she would reply absentmindedly, her voice raspy from the years of Misty's holding constant residence at the corner of her lips. "Like an actor? Like Mariska? Did you know she's the daughter of Jayne Mansfield?"

"No, like a Lawyer," you would tease, your eyes locked onto Stephanie March as she takes the stand, her sneer as icy as the blonde of her pin-straight hair, her voice strong and confident as she calmly verbally eviscerates yet another rapist, this time one of the shaky-ijustwantedtosmellher-variety, shaking like a leaf as they undergo cross-examination. "She's so fucking cool," you would whisper to yourself, the loud chuckle-cough-chuckle of your Nana as she peers at you from the corner of her eye.

"... but you're such a sweet girl!" she would retort, "how are you gonna win the case when you're so damn nice all the time? those suits would eat you alive, believe you me!"

Your voice rises steadily, like a crescendo building to a climax, until you're finally shouting. All the hurt and embarrassment you've bottled up explodes, coursing through your veins like an unstable chemical reaction. "The reason we're all still in business is because of me!" you declare, your words punctuated by frustration. "Or should I ask Bill in finance for confirmation? Maybe he's mistaken." You unclench your jaw, feeling the tension in your neck as you reach for your phone. "All those high-profile clients? They're loyal to me. If I leave, they'll follow. Think about that."

As the partners exchange bewildered looks, Nigel's discomfort is palpable as he clears his throat. "But... where will you go?" he stammers. "How do you expect to thrive in this industry without the support of a prestigious firm like ours? Besides, no one just turns their nose up at a salary increase of a hundred thousand dollars-"

"Okay, got it. So this isn't a negotiation, and there's no room for reconsideration?" You glance around the room, meeting each of their downturned gazes. Leaning back in your chair, a smirk plays at the corners of your lips as you hold their gaze.

"Oh, don't worry about me," you retort, rolling your eyes slightly. "You don't have to concern yourselves with my well-being. After all, you haven't given a damn about it throughout my entire career here, have you?"

A ripple of anxious laughter echoes through the room, mingled with the partners' disbelief at your audacity. "And just where do you plan to go?" Nigel presses.

With a knowing smile, you rise from your seat, gathering your belongings with a newfound sense of purpose. "Back to where I belong, I suppose," you declare. "Home."

You give the group of men one last nod, your expression firm. "Thank you for the offer, but I don't think this is going to work out," you say, your tone resolute. "And frankly, I've had enough of playing by your rules."

With a final flick of your hair, pin-straight and glossy like Stephanie, you stride out of the conference room, leaving behind the stifling atmosphere of the sleazy-suited assholes, their mouths agape, completely stunned. As the door clicks shut, you feel a sense of liberation wash over you, like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders.

Good fucking riddance, you think to yourself, walking past your colleagues, their heads bobbing up curiously from their cubicles as they watch you march away. You laugh to yourself at the sight of it, your head held high in defiance. Today marks the beginning of a new journey, one where you refuse to let others dictate your worth or your future.

Back in your corner office, tucked away at the back of the building- a spot they seemed to think was where you belonged, far away from the big boys club, you're surrounded by the familiar trappings of your professional life. The cardboard box on your desk awaits its contents – the remnants of a career spent in a firm that never fully appreciated your efforts, despite your unwavering dedication and the millions of dollars earned in your wake.

Shaking off the sting of humiliation and blinking back the tears of frustration threatening to spill, you begin the task of packing up your belongings. Your framed Juris Doctor is tossed in haphazardly, followed by a flurry of other items scattered across the surface of the box. Three framed photos: two girls, with wide smiles and pigtails, an old woman standing on the porch of a decaying home, and a group of like-looking women, the bright smiles and the promise of the endless possibility of the future in their eyes. Gone is the meticulously styled hair, now hastily tied up in a messy bun as you delve into the depths of your desk drawer. You pull out items in a flurry, tossing them into the box until your fingers come across something unfamiliar, hidden at the very back of the drawer.

Your fingers brush against something soft, and you pull out a faded friendship bracelet. Its beads are strung together to spell out a name you haven't seen in years. The memories flood back, threatening to overwhelm you as you stare at the name engraved on the bracelet.

F-R-A-N-

In an instant, you're transported back to a moment etched deep in the recesses of your mind: small hands trembling as they offer the bracelet to yours, the earnest gaze of a young boy not much taller than you. A tentative smile graces his lips as he extends the friendship offering. "You gave me yours, so I'm giving you mine... that means we're friends, right?"

You accept the bracelet with shaky hands, feeling a warmth spread through you. You smile back at the boy in front of you, his smile widening to match yours. "Right. Best friends!"

A pang of regret washes over you, mingling with a bittersweet sense of nostalgia for the friendship that once meant so much to you. With a heavy heart, you carefully place the bracelet into the box, a silent reminder of the past you've left behind.

Two Weeks later (somewhere in between New York and Texas)

"Okay, let me get this straight. They finally offer you a promotion, and that's when you decide it's the perfect time to quit? Seriously, Glory, please explain that logic to me," your sister's voice crackles through the car speakers as you navigate down the coast, taking another sip of your coffee to steel yourself for the conversation. "I'm begging you, please make it make sense. If management told me I needed to shake my ass to get a wage increase, I would say when and where. Surely, a hundred thousand dollars is a decent offer-"

"Yeah, they dangled a hundred thousand dollar salary bump in front of me, but it's not just about the money," you reply, frustration evident in your voice. "They were going to make me a Junior Partner. Junior. It's like they're saying, 'Hey Glory, you're good, but you're not quite good enough to sit at the big kids' table yet. Maybe in another decade or two, you'll get there.'"

"So what's the plan, then? You're just gonna pack up your office, leave your fancy Upper East Side condo behind, toss your shit in a U-Haul, and hightail it back to Nowheresville, USA? You're seriously going to start your firm in a place you swore up and down and to the heavens above that you'd never return to?" Your sister's incredulous voice echoes through the phone as you navigate the winding roads back to your hometown. "As much as the kids and I would love for you to finally be around, shouldn't you be aiming a bit higher than Fredericksburg? There's nothing here-"

You bite the inside of your cheek, the sharp pain making you wince as the metallic taste of blood fills your mouth. Relax, you tell yourself. She's right. You should be aiming higher.

"And don't even get me started on that rundown old house that Nana used to live in. Seriously, Glo, you're going to live in that dump? I wouldn't touch that place with a ten-foot pole, let alone live in it. It's a fucking money pit! You'll lose more money than what it's worth!" she snarks, chuckling to herself. "I know that it was all fun and games, talking about how you were gonna fix up that place, make it your forever home, but that was when we were kids! That place barely has a functioning roof!"

"Well, you must read minds, then." you retort dryly. "Sister, I think that you should think about becoming a psychic, because how did you know?" you sing-song back. "Besides, don't you have a guest room in that place of yours? I remember you asking me very nicely to help you out with the reno you did a few years back as a wedding gift, doesn't that mean that the room is mine if I ever needed it?"

There's a weird, awkward silence that suddenly fills the cab of the U-Haul, and you swear you can hear the gears turning in your sister's brain as she processes the implications of your words, holding your breath as you can feel the wrath that is sure to follow next. You appreciate how predictable your sister always was, knowing damn well that if you had told her that you were actually telling her the truth about your plans on returning home, she would try with every fiber of her being to convince you not to.

"There's nothing here for you, Glory. Nothing but heartbreak and the skeletons that have gathered dust in your bedroom closet. You've always been better than this little old town..." You remember her drunkenly telling you over FaceTime as you down your third glass of Pinot Grigio, your eyes fixed on the blue light radiating from the screen of your MacBook.

Congratulations, the email read. The buyer has accepted your terms, and is expected to move in shortly-

"No, Glo-" she starts.

"The condo sold for over market value-" you offer, a thinly-veiled attempt to try to reason with her.

"Wait. Are you fucking telling me that you're in a U-Haul driving back home? and you're only telling me this now when I haven't even had time to clean out the guest room?! You know how I get when things are left to the last minute-"

"Relax, I'm not going to crash at your house, not when Andrew doesn't know, I've already booked a month at the Hyatt in Austin while I square away the final plans for the house. Think of it this way, if you ever need a place to stay after another one of your husband's benders, you could always sneak away to the hotel room, now that I'll finally be close by. Plus, Hank told me that there's a vacant storefront on Main Street, It's a perfect spot to open the firm-"

"It's just..." Your sister's voice trails off, her chuckle sounding forced. "You always seem to have impeccable timing." There's an odd tension in her tone, a hint of something unsaid lingering between you.

"Impeccable timing, huh?" you prod, sensing there's more to her words than she's letting on.

But before you can dig deeper, she interrupts with a hurried excuse. "Hey, I'd love to chat more, but I've got to run. We'll catch up later, okay? Call me when you get to the hotel, we can grab lunch or something with the kids-"

"Hey, what did you mean about impeccable timing?" you press curiously.

"I gotta go love you byeeee-" she says hurriedly, cutting the phone call.

You're left staring at your phone, a gnawing sense of confusion settling in your gut. Something about her sudden evasiveness doesn't sit right with you, but you push it aside for now, focusing on the road ahead as you continue your journey back home. "Love you too, I guess."

You continue to drive throughout the night, the 26 or so hours that the GPS has estimated your trip to be, refusing to stop for anything other than gas and the occasional bathroom pit stop, grabbing yourself a Buc-ees t-shirt for shits and giggles to commemorate your arrival, breathing a sigh of relief as you eye the “Welcome to Texas!” Sign out in the distance, its surface illuminated by the purple skies of early morning.

"Not much longer," you reassure yourself as you nibble on a sad-looking fruit bowl and sip lukewarm water in the Buc-ee's parking lot. Between bites, you check the time on your phone, swiping away the occasional concerned email from your former associates at the firm.

You raise your phone, capturing the Buc-ee's sign in the distance with your camera app. The empty parking lot reflects the loneliness that has become all too familiar in your adult life.

It's not like I meant for it to be this way, you muse silently, drafting a caption for the photo. "Homeward bound, just a few more hours!" You type out as you hit upload, sharing the moment on your Instagram feed.

As you enter the city limits of the small town you once called home on the way to the Hyatt, you can’t help the wave of nostalgia that suddenly washes over you. You can't help but smile as you pass by familiar landmarks – the public library where you would spend countless hours buried in books, the little Italian place with your favorite lasagna, still in the corner where all of the birthday dinners would be held, the bustling mall, still bursting at the seams with teenagers and young families alike, a place where you and your best friend used to gossip about boys and clothes and how much you hated Mr. Frankel constantly staring at your tits over scoops and cones of ice cream, the shrillness of your combined laughter ringing throughout your ears.

Ex-best friend, you remind yourself bitterly, your knuckles turning white as you clutch the steering wheel. It's a bitter pill to swallow, knowing that the one person you would never think would betray you ending up with the guy you once harbored feelings for. The guy. They probably have a picture-perfect life now, living in some military town with a gaggle of kids, the sound of their laughter echoing in your mind like a haunting melody.

As you drive through the familiar streets of your hometown, memories of you and him start to slowly flood back into your consciousness – lazy afternoons spent together, whispered secrets shared under the shade of a tree. But now, those memories are tainted with a bittersweet ache, a reminder of what once was and what could have been.

You can almost see him now, running around the backyard with their children, his laughter mingling with theirs as they play. The image is both heartwarming and heartbreaking, a painful reminder of the love you lost and the friendship that slipped through your fingers.

With a heavy sigh, you tear your gaze away from the fleeting fantasy, focusing instead on the road ahead. It's time to move forward, to let go of the past, and embrace the uncertainty of the future. But as you drive away, a part of you can't help but wonder – what if things had been different?

As you navigate the winding streets, you can't help but feel a sense of belonging wash over you. This may not have been the life you planned, but somehow, returning to your roots feels like coming home in more ways than one.

After a few more hours of driving, you finally pull up to the Hyatt, grateful for the chance to stretch your legs and unload your belongings. The luxurious lobby offers a stark contrast to the worn-out upholstery of your car seat. With a sigh of relief, you drop off your bags in your room before heading back out onto the road.

As you pull up to your Nana's old place, you can't help but feel a pang of nostalgia mixed with apprehension. The once-charming house now stands in complete disrepair, its paint peeling and windows boarded up. Standing outside the weathered front door, you can't help but shake your head.

"Welcome home, Glory," you mutter to yourself, the words carrying both resignation and determination. With a deep breath, you unlock the door and step inside, ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead.

Frankie, two weeks before your arrival.

Frankie forgot how fucking hot it was in Texas.

With a heavy sigh, he turns off the ignition of his truck and gazes at the house he hasn't seen in the last few years. The weathered paint job catches his eye, the deep cracks spiderwebbing across the exterior walls. Once-bright white has faded to a tired tan, and a single bright blue shutter still hangs slightly askew from his bedroom window.

"Shit Frankie, do you think your pop is gonna kill me for that?" The voice seeps into his thoughts, unbidden. He shuts his eyes tight, battling against the memories he's long kept buried deep in the recesses of his brain.

His ears catch the familiar sound of tinkering echoing from the depths of the carport beside the house, still cluttered with dismantled shells and rusty car parts. He recognizes the soft grunts of his father as he works on yet another car he decided to fiddle with probably after spotting it abandoned on the roadside.

I've been gone for fifteen years, and yet, it feels like nothing has changed, he muses to himself, shaking his head in disbelief.

Frankie lets out a groan as he swings open his car door. His legs feel like lead, knees protesting from the strain of hours spent behind the wheel. He's just made the long haul from his actual home in Florida, leaving behind his daughter and the life he's built there for the last fifteen or so years.

Or tried to, at least.

The notion of divorce loomed over Frankie's thoughts like a persistent shadow, coloring every interaction with his wife. Even in the mundane moments of their daily life, he couldn't shake the feeling of their impending separation. It was as if they were constantly tiptoeing along the edge of a cliff, one wrong step away from falling into the abyss of divorce.

He found himself distancing emotionally, a subconscious defense mechanism against the possibility of heartache. Small disagreements turned into major rifts, each argument fueling the belief that their marriage was irreparable. He couldn't help but imagine a life without Chelsea, even as they sat across from each other at the dinner table or shared a quiet moment on the couch.

The weight of his doubts pressed down on him, clouding his perception of their relationship. Frankie had never truly loved his wife; their relationship was born more out of convenience and familiarity than genuine affection. He often wondered if Chelsea sensed his lack of affection, if she felt the absence of passion and connection that should have been the foundation of their marriage.

Guilt gnawed at him, knowing that he had never given Chelsea the love she deserved. He had entered into their marriage with a sense of obligation rather than devotion, and now he was trapped in a cycle of discontent and disillusionment. Divorce had become more than a possibility; it had become a constant companion, lurking in the shadows of their marriage.

Fuck. She never stood a fucking chance.

So, with a heavy heart and a mind full of fucking turmoil, he'd packed up his car and hit the road, effectively abandoning his wife and kid like a fucking coward, driving with no destination in mind until he found himself back in the town where it all began.

Frankie's chest tightens at the memory of Lily's desperate pleas, her small face etched with fear as she begs him not to leave. He had thought he was being discreet, tiptoeing past her room, his rucksack slung across his back. Pausing in the dim light, he takes a long look at his daughter, knowing he might not see her again for some time. "I love you, baby girl," he whispers, his voice barely audible as he gently closes her door, the click echoing in the quiet hallway.

He pushes open the door leading to the garage, grateful that he had the foresight to leave the garage door open earlier in the evening. It was a calculated move, part of his plan to make a quiet exit from this house that never felt like a home. He had thought about his grand escape throughout dinner that night, opting to remain silent as he tuned Chelsea out, her words of her displeasure falling on deaf ears as he nodded in agreement, cutting into his meatloaf as he slouches himself down his chair.

Lousy, lazy husband. Neglectful and absent father. The biggest disappointment and regret of her fucking life. Coward. Fucking Coward.

Ah, there it was.

I bet you wish that it was her, huh? I bet you wish that it was her pussy that you were fucking instead of mine, right Frankie? Chelsea would accuse, her hand motioning for him to pass over the mashed potatoes in the same breath.

Hell. She isn't wrong.

He thought his plan was about to unfold smoothly, exhaling a sigh of relief as he set his rucksack in the bed of his truck. Then, he heard it—the unmistakable creak of a door opening, followed by the soft padding of feet on concrete, drawing closer from behind. With a heavy heart, he closed his eyes, bracing himself for the pain he knew was coming.

"Daddy?" his daughter's sleepy voice broke the silence of the darkened garage. "Where are you going?"

Frankie's heart sank at the sound of Lily's voice, her innocent question piercing through his resolve like a knife. He turned around slowly, his eyes meeting hers in the dim light filtering through the garage.

"Lil, sweetheart," he began, his voice catching in his throat as he struggled to find the right words. "I... I have to go away for a little while." His chest tightened with every word, the weight of his decision heavy on his shoulders.

"Why?" Lily's voice trembled with confusion and fear, her small frame shivering in the cool air of the garage. She took a hesitant step closer, her eyes searching his face for answers.

Frankie knelt down in front of her, his heart breaking at the sight of her tear-filled eyes. "It's... it's complicated, baby," he said softly, reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair away from her face. "But I promise, I'll come back for you. I love you so much, Lily. You're my everything."

Lily threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder as she sobbed. "Please don't go, Daddy," she pleaded, her words muffled against his shirt. "I need you."

Tears pricked at Frankie's eyes as he held his daughter close, his own heart breaking with every second that passed. But he knew he had to go, for both of their sakes. With a heavy heart, he gently pulled away from Lily's embrace, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"I'll always be with you, sweetheart," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I promise. I'll come back for you, but you have to stay with Mommy for now, okay? I swear I'll come back for you."

As he stood up and turned away, leaving Lily behind in the garage, Frankie couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that weighed on him like a lead weight. But deep down, he knew that he had to do this—to find a way to be the father Lily deserved, even if it meant breaking both of their hearts in the process.

His throat tightens as he relives that moment, the memory etched vividly in his mind like a relentless nightmare. He can still see Lily's tear-stained face, her eyes pleading with him not to leave, her small hands reaching out for him as he walked away, the way her small form looks back at him as he looks at his rearview mirror, getting smaller and smaller as he drives out of the cul-de-sac like a fucking coward. The weight of her despair presses down on him like a vice, suffocating him with guilt and remorse.

Frankie silently makes his way over to the carport, his father's familiar silhouette outlined against the fading sunlight. He watches as his dad tinkers away, lost in his own world of gears and grease. With a smirk playing on his lips, Frankie leans against the doorframe, soaking in the scene before him.

"When I left, I was saying goodbye to a pair of feet under a fender, and I come home years later and it's like you haven't moved an inch," Frankie quips, his tone laced with affection and a hint of disbelief. "Are you sure you ain't dead under there, old man?"

His dad chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound that fills the air. "Nah, still kicking, just like always," he replies, not bothering to look up from his work. "You, on the other hand, look like you could use a good night's sleep."

Frankie rolls his eyes, but there's a warmth in his chest at the familiar banter. Despite everything that's changed, some things remain constant – like the easy camaraderie between a father and son, even after years apart.

Frankie's dad finally emerges from under the car, wiping his hands on a greasy rag as he beams at his son. "Well, well, look who's finally back home, a child of mine finally appears!" he says with a grin, opening his arms for a hug.

Frankie steps forward, enveloped in his dad's embrace, the familiar scent of motor oil and sawdust washing over him. "I'm your only child, Dad, or did you forget?" he teases, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

His dad chuckles, patting Frankie on the back. "No, son, I didn't forget," he replies with a twinkle in his eye. "But you always knew who my favorite was."

Frankie nods solemnly, his eyes squinting in the distance, not wanting his mind to go there. He clicks his tongue. "So-"

"I assume that your sudden appearance has something to do with that wife of yours screaming into my voicemail about you abandoning your family in the middle of the night?" his dad asks, a hint of concern lacing his words as he studies Frankie's expression.

Frankie lets out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping as he meets his father's gaze. "Yeah, Pop," he admits, running a hand through his hair. "Things with Chelsea... they haven't been working for a while now. I couldn't stay there anymore. I had to get out."

His father's expression softens, concern etched into his features. "And what about Lily? How's she taking it?" he inquires, his voice laced with worry as he thinks of his granddaughter.

"Yeah, she was torn up about it," he admits, his voice heavy with sorrow. "But I couldn't just take her. Chels would accuse me of kidnapping, and you know how the courts always side with the mother. I can't risk getting arrested again. Not after what happened last time."

"Well, that seems about something she would do, I guess," his father surmises, "... but what the hell are you doin' back here? I swore the last time I saw you, you told me you would never step your foot back here, especially with what happened with Glory-"

Frankie cuts him off, his jaw tensing as he steels himself against the memories threatening to resurface. "Look, Dad, let's not go there, okay? It's been years, and I've moved on, she's moved on," he says, his tone firm. "I'm just here to figure things out, clear my head. I don't need to worry bout no skeletons in my fucking closet, especially when I know for a fact that she ain't here no more to spook me."

Frankie's dad pauses, his gaze distant for a moment before he speaks again. "You know, son, I always loved her like my own," he says quietly, his voice tinged with regret. "She was like family to us, and seeing her leave was one of the hardest things I've had to witness. It broke my heart, and I know for a fact that it broke yours, too. Maybe if she had stayed... you wouldn't be here standing on my front lawn, hiding from your wife."

Frankie's chest tightens at his father's admission, a pang of guilt gnawing at him for the pain he caused. "I know, Pop," he replies softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I wish things had turned out differently."

"Yeah, well... shit happens, I guess." His father slaps his hand on his shoulder once more, motioning towards the house. "Come on, I got a pot of Chili that’s been simmering for the last few hours, I reckon it should be ready right about now. Go grab your shit and come help me set the table after you get settled, alright?"

Frankie nods, giving his father one last smile as he makes his way back to his pickup truck, slinging his military-grade duffle over his shoulder. Groaning, he makes his way up to the old house, the floorboards of the patio creaking as he opens the front door, the smell of his father's chili wafting in the air. He takes in the familiar sight of his living room, still the same as he left it all the years ago.

The same lumpy couch, the imprint of his father forever immortalized in his spot where he watches reruns of Pawn Stars and Columbo, greeted Frankie as he stepped into the living room. The faded fabric sagged under his weight as he lowered himself onto it, memories flooding back with each creak of the worn-out springs.

As Frankie's gaze shifted to the mantle, he couldn't help but notice the familiar photos arranged there. His eyes lingered on the one of him and his mother, her radiant smile captured forever in the frame. Beside it was a picture of you and Frankie as kids, arms wrapped around each other in a tight embrace, the innocence of youth reflected in your beaming faces.

Frankie's breath caught in his throat as he noticed a new addition to the mantle – a photo of you and his father in front of the Christmas Tree at Rockefeller Center. His father's arms were proudly slung around your shoulders, and both of you wore wide smiles that reached your eyes. It was a moment frozen in time, capturing a bond that had evidently formed in his absence.

"Well, what are you doing just sittin' there? Table ain't gonna set itself."

Frankie rolls his eyes at that. Yep, shit hasn't changed a bit. "Placemats still in the same drawer?"

"Unless someone moved them, which I highly doubt, being that it's just been me in this house for the last fifteen years," his father replies with a weary sigh, retrieving a steaming casserole dish from the oven and setting it on the stove. "Made some of that cornbread you like so much too," he adds with a wink. "Your Mama's recipe, not that boxed shit."

As they arrange the table settings, Frankie's father casts a cautious glance at him, a hint of concern in his eyes. "So, besides your marriage, How's everything going, son?"

Frankie lets out a heavy sigh, his shoulders sagging as he carefully places the silverware beside each plate. "Could be better, Dad. Could be a lot better."

His father's expression softens with understanding. "I heard about what happened. You doing okay?"

Frankie nods, though the weight of his recent troubles still hangs heavily on him. "Yeah, I'm managing. Just trying to figure things out."

His father places a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You know, son, we all make mistakes. What's important is how we learn from them and move forward."

Frankie meets his father's gaze. "Thanks, Dad. I appreciate it."

His father's fork hovers awkwardly over his plate, his gaze fixed on the food as if it holds the answers to questions he dare not ask. "Dig in, for fucks sake. Don't let it get cold."

Frankie senses an opportunity to steer the conversation elsewhere, away from the awkwardness. "Hey, Pop," he begins, trying to sound nonchalant, "I couldn't help but notice that photo on the mantle. Is it new?"

His father pauses, then looks at him, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before he answers, "The one from New York? Yeah, it's recent."

"How recent?" Frankie probes further, his curiosity piqued.

His dad casually tears off a piece of cornbread and dips it into his chili, shrugging. "About three months ago," he replies, his tone casual. "Why do you ask?"

"I'm just surprised, that's all," Frankie says with what he hopes is casual, stabbing his spoon into his bowl, pushing the pieces of beans and corn around, refusing to make eye contact with his father who is surely gazing back at him with the quirk of his brow. "Wasn't aware that the both of you were still close," he mumbles, the sight of your bright wide smile feeling like death by a thousand cuts straight into his jugular. “Never thought that you would actually leave this fucking place, let alone go to New fucking York.”

"Well, we haven't stopped being close, son. Did you know that she sends me a bottle of tequila every year on my birthday? Noticed the difference in quality as the years gone by, she's doing quite alright up there in the big 'ol apple." Frankie hears his father make a noncommital snort as he continues to eat. “Besides, she asked me to visit her the last time she was in town, and I ain’t getting any younger, have to enjoy life somehow, right?”

You still remembered his father's birthday. Do you still remember his? he wonders silently.

He strains his eye at the label of said tequila bottle, near the center of the dinner table. José Cuervo 250 Aniversario. Twenty-one hundred off the shelf, easy. A soft snort escapes his lips, shaking his head. Well, at least you still remembered your shit.

"You know, she's one of those lawyers that deal with family stuff," his father muses, chuckling to himself as he gets that gleam in his eye when he realizes he has a (stupid, but convenient idea). "Maybe you should-"

“No.”

“I could even be the one to call her, I know she won’t say no to me-“

“Pop-“

“She’s still single, you know.”

“I don’t know what her being single has to do anything with my divorce-“

“She never really got into anything serious, at least she never told me… but I knew. She was too busy for it, you know? Too distracted. Told her she should stop playing ball with the boys and start her own firm back here."

Frankie's father continued, a wistful tone creeping into his voice as he reminisced. "She always had that fire in her, just like her grandma. I remember when she was just a kid, always standing up for what she believed in, never backing down from a challenge. That girl could argue her way out of anything."

Frankie listened quietly, his mind racing with memories of Glory's fierce determination. Despite their differences, he couldn't deny the admiration he held for her unwavering spirit.

"Yeah, well, she's probably forgotten all about this place," Frankie muttered dismissively, though a small part of him hoped it wasn't true.

His father's gaze softened, a hint of sadness flickering in his eyes.

"Maybe. But some things, some people, they never really leave you, no matter how far you go."

"Why settle for Fredericksburg when she's killing it up there?" Frankie says bitterly, his frustration palpable. "She's made it clear that there is nothing for her here beside her sister, and her Nana has been gone for the last ten years. This place is a shithole, honestly."

"If it's such a shithole, then why the fuck are you here then?" his father challenges, his irritation evident as he stabs his salad with more force than necessary. "It might not be fancy like New York or as interesting as Tampa, but it's your home, son. It's her home, too."

"Well, I'm glad to know that you still gave a damn about somebody after all these years," Frankie retorts quietly. "... and here I thought I was your actual child-"

"What do you want me to say, huh? I feel like you're trying to insinuate something here, son, so just be a fucking man for once and spit it out!"

"Why didn't you visit me, huh? If you had so much time on your hands, why her and not me?"

"What, so I could bear witness to the shitshow that's your marriage? Do you think I like watching you suffer?" his father shouts, slamming his fork on the table. "Your wife can barely stand being in the same room as me! I ain't gonna waste my time spending it with people who clearly don't want me there."

"Well maybe if you didn't find the need to compare her to Glory all the damn like you did, maybe she would have made my life a fuck of a lot easier, don't you think?"

His father's expression shifts, a mix of surprise and guilt flickering across his features before settling into a resigned acceptance. "Son, I never meant to make things harder for you," he starts, his voice softer now, devoid of the earlier hostility. "But you gotta understand, Glory was special. She was... different. And I know I shouldn't have let that affect how I saw your wife, but I guess old habits die hard."

Frankie's shoulders tense as he absorbs his father's words, a bitter taste lingering in his mouth. "Well, you certainly made it clear where her place was in your eyes," he mutters.

His father sighs heavily, his gaze dropping to his plate. "I know, son. And I'm sorry for that," he says, his tone laced with regret.

Frankie's jaw clenches as he struggles to contain his frustration. "Yeah, well, easier said than done," he grumbles, his gaze flickering to the tequila bottle on the table, a stark reminder of the divide between them.

His father rises from the table, his movements slow and deliberate, as if weighed down by the gravity of their conversation. "I'm heading to the bar," he announces quietly, his voice tinged with resignation. "Don't wait up for me."

Frankie scoffs under his breath, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "Typical," he mutters, bitterness seeping into his words. "Always running away when shit gets dicey. Coward."

As his father reaches the door, he pauses, casting a sorrowful glance back at Frankie. "Takes a coward to know one, son," he says softly, the words heavy with unspoken regret. Then, without another word, he slips out into the night, leaving Frankie alone with his thoughts.

With a frustrated grunt, Frankie snatches the tequila bottle from the table, his movements rough and unceremonious. He doesn't bother with a shot glass, instead opting to take several swigs straight from the bottle. The fiery liquid burns as it travels down his throat, but he hardly notices it amidst the tumult of emotions swirling inside him.

"Fuck," he curses. "Welcome home, I guess."

Clutching the bottle tightly, he trudges up the stairs to his bedroom, the weight of the day settling heavily on his shoulders. As he disappears into the darkness of his room, the only sound that fills the empty house is the quiet echo of his footsteps on the creaking floorboards.

Series Taglist:

@ashleyfilm @danaispunk @imdrinkingpedro @yxtkiwiyxt @lilyevanstan1325

@kungfucapslock @critfailroll

#fic: hometown glory #pedro pascal #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales #hometown glory #frankie 'catfish' morales #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie catfish morales #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier

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brunosbambina · 1 year

Text

Amore in Bora Bora

You and Bruno take a tropical honeymoon and things get spicy.

❥Labels & Warnings: 18+

Smut, Fluff, Romance, Vacation, Honeymoon, Established Relationship, Husband Bruno Buccellati, Dirty talk, Vaginal sex, Oral sex, Teasing, Creampie.

Bruno and you had just got married and were going on your honeymoon. To your surprise, you had no idea where you were headed to. He remembers you once saying excitedly that, you wanted to go somewhere “tropical” and stay at those “over the water bungalows!” He thought you were so cute when you got excited about something. So he decided to surprise you with just that. He even went a step further with getting a private beach along with a private bungalow so it was just the two of you. Since he didn’t tell you where you were both going, he told you to pack summer clothes. Bruno kept shushing you whenever you’d ask for hints on where you two were headed. You felt a little anxious if you were being honest. But knowing how Bruno is, you couldn’t help but be curious and excited.

Once you arrived, you gasped in awe realizing where you were at. To be spending time with your lover in such a beautiful place made it all the more special. You felt so loved by him remembering something you had said so long ago. He never disappointed you with how sweet he was. He truly was an amazing husband...wait, husband? You’re going to have to get used to that, you thought.

You gasped at your bungalow when you got in. The ceilings were high, it was an open floor plan, everything looked very cozy and romantic.

Bruno furrowed when he noticed you were slightly panicking as you were unpacking your suitcase.

Bruno padded over to you “Amore, what's wrong?”

You looked at him and said quietly, “I..I didn’t bring a swimsuit..” He smirked at you and leaned down to kiss you adoringly. “I know and that's why I got this for you.”

He walks over to his suitcase and pulls out a red string bikini, with the smuggest look he can muster. You blush immediately, seeing how little fabric it had to cover you with. You walk over to him and hold the bikini out, slightly hesitant, saying, “Bruno..this will barely cover me...I might as well be naked.” His smile gets even wider and whispers into your ear

“That's the point, bella. You’ll look good enough to eat.”

You blush an even deeper shade of red and say, “Only for you, Bruno” with a reluctant smile.

You were about to leave to unpack the rest of your suitcase until Bruno grabs your wrist and leans down to your eye level and says, with a low voice, “You’re going to look absolutely perfect in it…I’m already getting hard just thinking about you, amore.”

Whimpering out, you get out of his hold and playfully run away because you’re too flustered to keep eye contact after his dirty talk. Bruno chuckles at your shyness.

You both continue unpacking and having a relaxing time.

A little while later when the sun wasn’t beaming onto the sand, when the sky was starting to show its pretty colors, Bruno suggests you two go out to the beach. You both got into your swimming attire, you with your revealing red string bikini...and him? He comes out with a tropical button up shirt, unbuttoned to show off his delicious caramel toned skin. He wore a simple black speedo to show off his ass and...sizeable bulge. He pairs the top with a simple silver necklace; oh he knows how to get you. You always loved him in jewelry. Something about it turned you on...the way it sits on his skin, especially his chest. How the silver contrasts with his golden skin. How the delicate chain lays on his strong and toned chest. The clinking sounds it makes when he’s fuc-

You snap out of your thoughts when Bruno says you should get going before the sun starts to set. So you grab your bag and you both head off to the beach.

With you and Bruno walking hand in hand from your bungalow, onto the soft sand of the beach, he looks at you with his sweet cerulean eyes. You notice his eyes starting to roam your body before he says, “I told you, you’d look perfect in the bikini.”

You snort and say, “Yeah well you look pretty perfect yourself..” blushing and looking at him before quickly looking away. Bruno brings the back of your hand to his lips and presses a gentle kiss onto it, so gentle and so loving that you melt from how warm he is to you. You smile at him and you can’t help but think you’re truly the luckiest girl on this planet.

You both make it to the reclined beach chairs; they have a table in the middle with a huge white umbrella on top to block out the sun. You immediately eye the drinks with the small umbrellas stuck into them. “Now this is fancy,” Bruno laughs at your silliness.

You set down your bag down and sit onto one of the reclining chairs, Bruno mimics you but chooses to lie down instead. You pick up one of the drinks and drink.

It was warm out but not hot...well...you were most certainly getting hot when you noticed how Bruno was lying down.

Bruno was lying down with his arms crossed behind his head and eyes closed as if he had no cares in the world.

His dark eyelashes sweeping over his high cheekbones. His tall nose, so strong.

His full lips forming into a gentle pout. His current position making his shirt expose more of his taut golden skin, his muscles even more flexed with his position.

His speedo was low on his hips, showing off his happy trail and V. His bulge ever so present with how small his swimsuit was.

Knowing Bruno, he definitely planned this. He knew you too well, that fact turning you on even more.

You continue to sip your drink as you forced yourself to look away and look at the gentle waves crashing onto the soft sand.

“This place is really gorgeous. It looks like it came right out of National Geographic.”

Bruno smiled up at you and says, “It is. I knew you would love it. We have the ocean back at home but it’s not like this.”

You look down at him with a slightly furrowed brow and say, “Did you want to go here as well?”

“Of course, you know I love the ocean and anywhere with you is where I want to be,amore.” He says with a loving smile.

You blush and smile at him adoringly. “I’m gonna go in the water now, are you coming?”

Bruno glances at you through his eyelashes “No, go on ahead, I’ll join you later”

With that, you sit up and kick off your sandals. You start running into the edge of the water, feeling the warm water in between your toes. You start to play in the water a little bit and splash around.

Bruno looks over to you from his lying position and chuckles at your childlikeness. If he’s honest with himself, though...he’s getting pretty turned on by your attire. By everything, actually. It’s your honeymoon, in a very romantic destination, all to yourselves. What can get better than this?

From where he is, all he can see are the curves of your ass and legs as you bend down while you try to take off some seaweed from your feet.

You look over your shoulder to see Bruno staring at you. You giggle and smile at him.

You go back to trying to get the piece of seaweed off of you.

Bruno continues staring at your form..slightly damp from playing in the water, the red string bikini he got you hugging your curves just right. It was basically just strings and small pieces of fabric to barely cover you up. Oh, how he loves how it looks on you. He’s starting to get more and more turned on as you twist your body around ever so slightly as you fiddle with the seaweed. He bites his lip at how soft your ass looks...the bikini covering just half of your ass cheeks.

Bruno couldn’t take it anymore, he gets up and walks over to you and presses his body into yours lightly as you’re still bent over.

“Mmm you really do look so good to eat, bella.” He says as he rubs his hands on your hips.

Your heart skips a beat at his suggestive aura and you stand straight to crane your neck to look up at him. He stares back into your eyes, completely and utterly enamored by you.

Bruno starts to press his body even more into yours, ever so slightly rocking his hips into your ass. You squeak when you feel him getting rock hard.

He bends down and kisses you passionately. You moan against his plump lips when you feel his tongue pushing through and you immediately open up for him. You gladly accept his hot and wet tongue moving so sensually against yours as if it were making love to yours.

You finally turn around to face him and he immediately grips onto your ass with both hands and pushes you up against his hard bulge. He breathes out against your lips saying “do you feel how hard you make me?”

You moan out loud and wrap your arms around his toned back. His hands start to roam all over your body feverishly as if he were going to explode if he didn’t touch you. Bruno stops kissing you to suck at your lower lip before staring deeply into your eyes, lidded and dark from lust.

“I want you right now,bella. I can’t wait.” He says in an almost growl.

“But we’re outside..someonemightsee us.” You slightly whine at him

Bruno chuckles at you and says with a low voice “Amore, this is a private beach, remember? Why do you think I got one for us?”

You blush deeply and squeak as he picks you up, placing one hand on your ass and the other across your back for leverage. He grabs your ass as you both head to the reclined chairs.

Bruno lies down with you on top, straddling him. You start to kiss him deeply and put your hands on his toned stomach.

You start to grind into him as both of your tongues sensually dance together. He reaches out and pulls the straps of your bikini top down to reveal your breasts. He takes both into his big hands and gropes them, then leans up to lick one of your nipples. As he’s doing this he looks at you, his tongue lewdly moving against your nipple as if to show it off. He tugs your nipple with his teeth before moving onto your other one.

Bruno leans up to kiss you; he can never get enough of your mouth.

You let out a lewd moan when he grinds up into you, perfectly grinding into your clit. You grab onto his broad shoulders for stability as he holds down onto your hips and grinds into your clit more fervently. You’re moaning into his mouth as you both share an open kiss. His hands grip harder onto your hips and start to move your hips faster against him.

You can feel just how wet you are, your folds slipping against your bikini bottoms with little effort. You’re a whining and panting mess at this point, trying to catch breaths between kisses.

Bruno notices your moans are getting louder and your nails raking his shoulders, signaling your release is on the horizon. So he stops immediately, leaving you whimpering in protest.

“Please don’t stop, Bruno”

Bruno gives you a breathless chuckle.

“Mmm not yet,tesoro. I want you to touch me first.” Bruno takes off his shirt and grabs your hand, leading it down to cup him through his speedo. You immediately grope and rub him.

Bruno lets out a low groan and bucks up into your hand.

“Bella, please, be a good girl and stop teasing. Let me see what your pretty mouth can do, hmm?”

You smile and oblige. Taking off his speedo fast, his cock bounces free, finally free from his tight speedo.

Bruno is...beautiful to say the least. His cock is thick and long, slightly darker than his body, with dark hair trailing from his abdomen to his pubis. It’s wet and hard from the grinding. Your mouth waters just looking at it.

You scoot yourself further down the chair and lower yourself to lick a thick stripe on the underside of his cock, just stopping before the head.

Bruno groans and throws his head back.

You continue to lick up his cock until he bucks up from being impatient. Then, you take his head into your mouth and swirl your tongue around it gently. Bruno moans loudly, his vocalness spurring you on to you take all of him into your mouth. You set a steady rhythm, almost reaching to the hilt. Bruno puts a hand on top of your head to encourage you to go deeper. You obey and take him deeper. He groans and grabs your head with both hands now, slowly pushing you onto him deeper and deeper. You’re moaning; you can feel your slickness dripping out of your bikini bottoms.

Bruno gathers your hair to the side to look at you as his cock disappears in your mouth. You notice this and look him in the eyes as you suck him. He’s surprised he doesn’t cum right then and there from the lewd display.

You see Bruno’s brows furrowed, mouth agape, cerulean eyes lidded and blown from lust. He’s so gorgeous like this...

He starts a faster pace for himself as he fucks your mouth. He does this for a few more thrusts and lifts you up off him, not missing the strings of saliva connecting you to him.

“You’re so good for me.”

Bruno quickly tears off your bikini bottoms.

You place his cock between your folds and in between your cheeks, perfectly curving against you. You slowly glide his cock through your folds with a roll of your hips.

He plants his hands onto your hips and whispers into your ear “Dio mio, you’re so wet. Does sucking me off really make your little pussy that wet for me?”

You moan at his dirty words and nod. Bruno didn’t always talk this dirty in bed but after you requested him to do it often, he never stopped after that, seeing how much it turned you on.

He holds onto your hips and rocks you against him until he can catch your entrance.

He tries a few times but fails and laughs, “Cara, you’re so wet, I’m slipping all over the place.”

You laugh along with him “I blame you!” He crinkles his eyes and smiles at you, kissing you sweetly.

Then he pushes you forward by gripping onto your ass with one hand and guiding his cock with the other to your entrance.

You both lock lusty eyes when he finally slides in slowly.

His eyebrows furrow at your hot tightness. You hiss at the stretch as he inches up into you.

He presses his lips to yours as he slowly rocks up into you.

You think he’s finally all the way in until he roughly thrusts the rest of his sizable cock into you.

“Ooh fuck you feel so good, so hot and tight around me. Your pussy is made for me,cara.” He rasps out, eyes lidded looking into yours. You whine and clench around him at his dirty words.

You start to bounce onto his cock independently, moaning every time it hits deep inside you, his cock sometimes grazing your cervix. Bruno bites his lip at his view of your bouncing breasts and his cock disappearing into your pussy.

He sits up and kisses you passionately, mixing his tongue with yours. He snakes his hands from your hips to your waist, then to your breasts. His big hands grope at them and pinch your nipples roughly, twisting them in between his long fingers. He grabs your right breast into his hand and sucks feverishly at your nipple. He’s breathing heavily against your flesh with the occasional moan. Bruno looks up into your eyes as he does this. You mewl and arch into his touch, your hands carding through his silky hair to push him into your breast.

He grabs onto your hips roughly and slams you down onto him. You grab onto his shoulders as he controls your pace on him.

Bruno nuzzles into your neck, sucking and licking at your heated skin, moving his mouth up to suck just underneath your ear, and licking it. He groans into your ear

“I love you. I want to fuck you like this forever.”

The two of you mash your lips together, feverishly kissing and locking tongues as you both roll against each other, completely drunk off each other.

Bruno slows his thrusts for a second to say,

“Get on your hands and knees for me, cara.”

He flexes his cock, still inside of you before you get up off of him. You turn around on the chair and spread your legs and lift your ass up. You look back at him and give him a suggestive smirk.

Bruno murmurs a string of Italian expletives as he sees your whole pussy exposed to him, seeing just how wet you are. His mouth watering at the sight; he can’t wait to taste.

Your smirk quickly drops, as he grabs your ass with both hands and licks with the flat of his tongue down from your clit up to your asshole, making you moan aloud.

Your hips squirm, making him grab onto your ass tighter and lifting your ass up even higher. His thumbs spread your labia so he can taste all of you.

His tongue traces your outer lips, then the inside, licking your labia and leaving no skin untouched.

Bruno’s tongue skillfully spreads your wetness around, strings of your slick connecting you to him when he pulls back to marvel at your exposed pussy. When he sees this he groans and furrows his eyebrows; seeing your body this turned on from him drives him crazy.

He sucks at your pussy with fervor, trying to suck and lick up all of your sweet slickness.

Bruno groans into your pussy as your hips push into his face.

He sucks at your pussy, occasionally thrusting his hot tongue into your entrance.

“Mmm amore, I love how you taste. I love how wet you are for me. You’re making a mess everywhere.”

Bruno sucks at your clit the best he can with this position.

“Oh fuck! Please, Bruno, I’m so sensitive.” You whine out.

He gives one last lick to your pussy before pulling back and slapping your ass, hard.

You moan, looking back at him. You see him completely and utterly enveloped in love and lust. His silky hair a mess, his lips swollen from biting them too much, jaw clenched, and brows furrowed. He truly is a vision like this…

You’re pulled out of your thoughts when he thrusts back into you, already pounding into you at a fast pace. You wail, arching your back even further, hands gripping the chair and whatever you can reach for stability as he pounds into you with abandon.

You hear his necklace clinking, the sound you love as he fucks you hard.

“B-Bruno you’re going to make me cum!” You whine out as your arms give out from under you, making your face press against the chair.

Stopping his thrusts he leans down to your ear “Not yet, I want to see your sweet face when you cum for me.” You clench around him; you almost cum right then and there.

Bruno feels this so he pulls out and grabs you to turn you over so he can lay on top of you.

Bruno’s face is so close to yours, you can feel his hot breath on your face, his deep cerulean eyes filled with passion and love for you. He looks at you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world to him, which you are. His kisses are always passionate and always leave you melting and wanting more.

Spreading your thighs wider as he kisses you, he guides his cock to your entrance once again. He pushes in slowly, He wants to draw this out as long as he can handle.

His resolve falters when you squeeze around him purposefully, a sweet moan eliciting from his full lips. He flexes his cock inside of you to reply to your squeeze. You giggle and he smiles, kissing you sweetly as if to say ‘I love you’.

He slowly thrusts into you, not quite reaching to the hilt, to your dismay. So you wrap your legs around his waist to push him deeper. He notices this and doesn’t comply; instead, he grabs the back of your thighs and presses them against your chest, his hips still keeping his slow pace.

He’s driving you crazy with how slow he’s going, you whimper out “please stop..”

“Stop what, cara?” His face is smug; of course he knows what you want.

“Do you want me to stop fucking you?” His hips still and he pulls out completely, his hands still on the back of your thighs to hold you down.

You buck your hips the best you can.

“No! Please...Bruno, don’t stop.” You whimper out.

“Please what? What is it that you want?” He looks so smug. Bruno knew you always had a hard time voicing your feelings out loud. You were so shy when he made you say what you want in bed.

He was staring deeply into your eyes and reading your face, He loved to make you squirm. “Tesoro, you have to say what you want, yes? Is it my cock you want? Hmm?”

You nod “y-yes..” Bruno goes in to kiss and suck your neck, leaving more marks.

He whispers in your ear “Then be a good girl and say it for me.”

You whine out “I want you..”

“Mmm want what? You have to use your words or else I won’t know what you want.”

He pulls back and rubs his cock head on your clit.

“Bruno, please..I-” You’re cut off when he pushes the head in a little bit, teasing you further.

“Say it, you know I can leave you like this.” Bruno is still keeping his resolve even though he’s about to explode. He’s ever so smug while teasing you, waiting for your response.

You can’t take any more of his teasing; at this point you don’t care about being shy. The only thing you care about right now is that he fucks you into oblivion.

“Fuck me, Bruno” You whimper out.

“Hmm? What was that? I didn’t hear you, speak up,cara.”

“Please, fuck me...I want to feel you, I want you to cum inside me, Bruno..please fuck me.” Your imploring eyes looking up at him.

He groans and he finally complies, Immediately slamming into you as he grabs the back of your thighs for leverage. You scream out, your hands going to hold the back of his on your thighs.

He’s pounding you so hard into the chair, that you feel the chair sinking into the soft sand.

You’re already close from all the teasing and building up. You’re moaning with abandon and clenching around him.

“You’re already about to cum? Does my cock feel that good inside you, cara?” He groans out.

“Yes! I love your cock! You’re gonna make me cum!” He growls at this, determined to make you cum hard.

He stops for a second to put down your legs and wrap his arms up underneath you, so he can hold you close.

Bruno angles his hips just right, hitting your spot over and over as your moans get higher each time he hits it.

“Tesoro, look at me when you cum.”

You nod and stare into his blown out cerulean eyes. All you hear is the lewd sounds of skin slapping against each other, pants and moans, not a care in the world, but each other.

You’re so close to cumming, and so is he.

You can tell by how much he’s straining against you, trying to hold out until you cum.

He’s hitting your sweet spot over and over.

“Cum for me, il mio cuore, mia moglie, ti amo.”

His words push you over the edge, clenching hard on his cock.

You’re screaming out his name, eyebrows furrowing, mouth wide open, the look of pure ecstasy.

You feel electricity all throughout your body as your body shakes in his hands, all the while locking eyes with him, as he demanded.

Bruno cums immediately when he sees how hard he made you cum. His hips stutter and slam into you as he cums, moaning after each wave of his orgasm, painting your inner walls with his cum. He cums so much, some of it leaks out as he’s still going through the last waves of his orgasm.

His hips slowly falter and collapse on top of you.

You stroke his hair lovingly.

He lifts his head up to leave a chaste kiss on your lips.

Bruno pulls back to look into your eyes.

Your eyes always tell him your feelings, you love him so much and would do anything for him and he sees that.

He smiles at the thought.

“I love you, mio marito.” You say as you kiss his nose.

“Ti amo, mia moglie.”

He lifts up off of you and pulls out. You feel so empty without him, you wish you could stay like this forever but reality sets in when you feel sticky.

“We made a mess,tesoro,” Bruno says as he sees his cum coming out of you and onto the chair.

“We can at least clean ourselves up, right?” You say while looking at him demurely.

Bruno knows what you’re hinting at and he could never resist you.

You realize the sun is about to set, leaving a beautiful haze of colors. “We better get back before it gets dark.” You say as you’re searching for your bikini.

Bruno quickly dresses up before you and helps you get dressed, then he swoops you up in his arms, bridal style.

Sometimes you forget how strong he really is, making you squirm from him carrying you as if you were a feather.

Sticky Fingers grabs the rest of your belongings as Bruno runs with you in his arms back to your private bungalow where you can both “clean up”.