#WHEW how do you guys do this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cloudcountry · 10 months

Text

thank you to the three people that tagged me in the twst author spotlight ^^ irene, siren, and sapphy, thank you. i read what you said about me and i was very touched. i didnt think i would gain so many friends in such a short period of time, and you all deserve to be recognized for your contributions to the twst community!! :D

EVERYONE LOOK AT MY FRIENDS.

@tinyletterz, who has a beautiful soul and amazing writing. i've known her since my baby days on quotev writing for a fandom which shall not be named, and it's so such a pleasure being her friend. she writes twst x reader content and has a gorgeous series about flower languages that i think about a lot. thank you remy for helping me get accustomed to tumblr, you're the og!!

@shkrmpp, who was my first mutual that i'd never met before here. thank you for asking about jellyfish and being such a bubbly presence on my dash. shrimpy writes x reader content and creates adorable art!! their hair dye series with the leech twins is super cute and i find myself thinking about teh floyd part in particular very often ^^

@fukashiin, with the prettiest themes and the gorgeous art style. winou CONSISTENTLY writes absolute bangers that make me so giddy. this one in particular is one of my favorites, and her writing style reminds me of a soft summer breeze. she's such a bubbly person and its so fun talking to her, even if we don't talk often. ^^ she's one of the three people that keeps my deuce content afloat.

one could say many things about the beloved @hisui-dreamer!! from the way she adores her friends to teh way she writes, rinna is always soft and sweet. she radiates comfort and is such a soothing person, i feel so safe around her. she writes x reader content and every single piece is its own masterpiece. she's one of my closest friends on here and i wish nothing but the best for her every day.

@merotwst, who has a bucnh of adorable oc content (on @meromessy !!) and writes x readers!! ellie in on haitus right now takinga well deserved break. <3 but she writing is amazing and i am FLOORED whenever i see her art!!! it's literally so gorgeous and i don't understand how she does it. its crazy. how is so much talent in one person.

@siren-serenity is not only a lovely author of x reader content, but also a lovely friend. ^^ siren also has an oc named melody who is so cool!!!! she was the pastor at my wedding and fought TOOTH AND NAIL for that position LMAO love u renren!!! she really writes azul SUPER WELL and im so happy to have met someone so calm and soothing to talk to.

@officialdaydreamer00, aka nutmeg, is a rascal. an absolutely rascal but they're really the best. they have a yuusona with LORE and a bunch of really creative & cute events!! seriously nutmeg, nobody does it like you. if you want to see our favorite twst boys in strawberry dresses or recieve a pair of cute earrings, irene's blog is the place for you!!!

@the-v-lociraptor has STELLAR art. she was one of my firts mutuals on twst tumblr and i was terrified of talking to people but her vibes were very much "i am nice you dont need to be afraid" and sniffling scared me was like "OKAY I CAN TALK TO YOU" LMAO but yeah. she draws people so,,, full. thats the only word i can use to describe it. they just look s soft and alive and its really so amazing. i love her art so much!!

@siphoklansan is another artist!! i think about the art she drew from loona's heart attack with twst character weekly basically. it has been stuck in my brain since i started following her. sippy, its trully beautiful how you mix your culture and your art together. i remember you talking about it when you were drawing fairy gala stuff and it was just stunning. please keep doing what you're doing!! i hope your hiatus proves restful <3

@ceruleancattail is one of THE most creative writers i have ever met on this platform. every time i check out their account theyre talking about a new au or doing something different. they write x reader stuff and ar ethe biggest cater kisser ever (even if they wont admit it hehe!!) their writing is so refreshing, if that makes sense. their butler au is so goofy whaahwwahwah

@moonlit-midnight has the prettiest writing style :((( hannah is literally so sweet and it shows in everything you can find on this blog. THIS BLOG HAS PLATONIC FICS TOO!!!! DID YOU KNOW THAT?????? and even better, they're inspired by hannah's own friendships :((( literally the most wholesome thing. you can find x reader's here!!!

@iseethatimicy is an x reader writer and fellow azul kisser!!! she writes some really cute stuff for oour favorite silly little cephalopod AND AND AND AND HAS SOME OCS!!! THATA ARE SUPER COOL!!!!! shimiko and icy are both so cool and interesting 9EVEN THOUGH IM VERY SHIMIKO BIASED AAAAA I LOEV SIREN TROPES !!!!!)

@ryker-writes IS SO KIND. he gave me the sweetest set of flowers for his garden event :(( i still think about them and aaaaa i havent forgotten when he fought me over me being cool LMAO so goofy wahhwaawh!! HIS OC JAXON AND RIDDLE ARE LITERALLY SO CUTE :((( he writes x reader content & makes oc content!!!

@totallymem3 draws occasionally and omgggg meme's art is gorgeous. HAVE YOU SEEN HER DRAW AZUL. her art is so soft and its honestly adorable :(( meme is such a nice mutual too!!! like i met her on anon a while ago we've been besties ever since fr. HER ART REMINDS ME OF SPRING GO CHECK IT OUT PLEASE!!!!!

@z3llous is SO TALENTED!!!! another mutual that im liek WOW how do you exist??? he creates the most stunning twst fanart :((( THE OCTAVINELLE BIAS IIS SO REAL AND SO SO OBVIOUS BUT WOW.....WOW IS IT GOOD. zell is also a game developer and if you like cute little kitties and adventure games you should totally try it out here!!!

@cecilebutcher MAKES THE BEST OCS. creator of igor and saver of the universe. im not kidding igor saved the universe IDC WHAT YOU SAY ITS CANON TO ME. cece i sliterally the sweetest and soososososo creative i am eating up every crumb of igor content i get fed. OM NOM NOM. ofc junto is nice too and hes so sweet!!! GAHH you just put so much love and care into yoru ocs its so admirable :((((

@ang33333333l is another azul kisser that i became mutuals with a while ago!!! dolls love for sebek and azul is very sweet to see and her yuusona fauna is adorable too!! she also draws her yuu and characters sometimes!! :D she doesn't have a lot of oc content up on dolls blog yet but im looking forward to seeing more!! >:D

@leonistic deserves the most underrated writer of the year award. soru writes x reader content and is another super sweet mutual of mien (I KNOW IM SAYING THAT A LOT OKAY.) she writes aroace content and its literally feeds me. seriously. their aroace azul content makes me giggle and kick my feet and GAHHHHH !!! plus they have the patient to do matchups which is crazy and i love them for that ^^

@rains-asleep is the nickname master because he calls me straubs and thats such an adorable nickname :(((( HIS WRITING IS SUPER CUTE AND IT GIVE SME SO MUCH SEROTONIN (they write x readers btw!!!!!) they recently hit 500 followers (CONGRATS AGAIN!!!!!) and they also write for haikyuu, mha, genshin impact, and obey me!!!

@shinysparklesapphires is an artists that has a lot of cool ocs!! i believe navi was the first one i was introduced to and he's such an icon ^^ sapphy is also really into precure and produces a lot of content for the fandom!! i have yet to finish the precure series she recommended to me but its good so far and laura is the best so true!!

@datboredpencil has THE most STUNNING art. if you want idia x cater content this is DEFINITELY THE BLOG FOR YOU!!! each piece has so much love poured into it and i swear. YOURE ALWAYS LIEK "its a work in progress" BUT IT STILL LOTS SO LOVELY :((( YOUR USE OF COLOR IS JUST SO MUAH!!! CHEFS KISS!!!!!!! I ADORE IT

@twistwonderlanddevotee makes really pretty backgrounds!!! i actually used the isaac one she made for my private account AND ITS SO CUTE I LOVE IT I WANT TO EAT IT SWALLOW IT WHOLE MUNCH ON IT SHAKE IT AROUND LIEK A DOG TOY ANYWAYS. i am very normal about sofia's backgrounds. PLEASE GO CHECK THEM OUT its literally so unique?? like who else makes backgroudns liek sofia. Nobody.

@queen-shiba has an open inbox everyone!! you're welcome to send in requests!!! ^^ the queen of savanaclaw makes oc content for chuki, a really sweet kid taht deserves all the cookies in teh world :((( ALSO!!! she has an au for the tsavo man-eaters which is super cool!!! :O she passion for lions and tigers really is admirable and its nic eto see her talk about them :3

@beeirdos-buzzing-bogaloo has a gift when it comes to making ocs!! thule remains my favorite of the ones he has talked about because his design is just so neat!!! I LOVE THAT HIS NICKNAME FROM ROOK IS "MONSIEUR STARGAZER" :((( you have so many ocs that i havent even heard about yet...so im super curious to see what else you put out!!!

@dove-da-birb IS SUCH A GENIUS. they're one of my closests friends and their writing is SO BEAUTIFUL. they're also kidn of a little shit though so watch out /aff tehy write x reader content and draw sometimes, although i dont think theyve posted any of them. ^^ dove is SUCH a delight i promise you'll have fun every single time you talk to them. their energy is infectious and im genuinely really glad im the main target for their chaos. i would not have it any otehr way.

@ashipiko has such delicious art!!! the colors are always so vibrant and the way she draws is so unique. truly, a staple of both the twisted wonderland and as3! fandoms!! her energy is always upbeat and cheery, its hard not to smile when youre talking to her!! truly the biggest ace kisser on thsi platform (probably in the world too hehe)

@shyhaya writes for a myriad of fandoms!!!!!! hayami writes an azul thing for me that made me lose my mind IT WAS SO GOOD. PLEASE check out this blog. you wont regret it. requests are open!! ^^ even twst content aside, im sure you'll find something you like sich haya writes for so many fandoms!! talk about multitalented :3

@thehollowwriter has so many gems. quinn writes every character in twst so well, teh writing is so immersive and just ughhhh MUAH!!!!! every piece with azul in it is such a banger and it makes me giggle and kick my feet :3 LITERALLY THERE IS SO MUCH X READER FLUFF AND ITS ALL GOOD ITS A CRIME I DIDNT FIND THIS BLOG SOONER.

@cyath, who has some of the PRETTIEST art i have EVER seen. they draw stuff based on my fics all of the time and i adore it so much. examples of their art can be found here, here, here, and here. do you understand what i mean. do you get it. their art style is SUPERIOR and i ADORE IT!!!!!! they truly have so much talent like damn save some for the rest of us hello!!!!!

@crheativity writes twst x readers!! she's a beginner writer so PLEASE PELASE SHOW HER SOME LOVE!!! right nwo she has some heartslabyul content that i havent gotten around to reading yet but i am SUPER excited to go through them when i get the chance!!! rhea is super fun to talk to hehe <3

and lastly, @jade-s-nymph who organized this whole thing!!! rubia is on hiatus right now but i've seen some of her projects and a few of the things she's written and they're all really good!! there's a lot of x reader content on her writing blog and self indulgent nymphleech content on her personal blog :3

#twst spotlight #whew its finally finished!!!!!#honestly you all are so talented #thakn you so much for talking to me ^^#you all have been the cause of many smiles and tons of laughter ove the few months ive been here #no fandom has left such a positive impression on me in so little time #you guys are people to remember #every single one of you #and its sappy as HELL i know LOOK AWAY IF YOU DONT WANT SAPPY AUBURN #but teh way you all support each other and talk about things and connect is just so effortlessly beautiful #im so happy that ive been accepted into such a lovely group #im in awe of you all every single day #i hope you never lose the courage and motivation to do what you love #writing and art and anything else aside #i hope you can always find your people in every creative space you enter and i hope ever day you remember your worth!!!#its so amazing how our brains work and give us so many ideas and how we can just put those into words on onto a canvas for other people #this took forever so i will go take a break now but seriously you guys are all amazing

111 notes · View notes

bumblingbabooshka · 7 months

Text

Live Fast & Prosper

#VERY funny that the imposter Janeway is sort of doing her accent - did Neelix mention that to her too~??#'Also she talks like a thespian?? Which I guess is how everyone talks in Indiana.'#She also pulled the whole 'we're a workplace but I like to think of us...as a family :)' so you know she's not to be trusted #Also I fuckinglove how into it the guy playing fake Tuvok is...he's like INTO the role. Yet another criminal man obsessed with you #commander...what's your DEAL <3 #I'm such a soft touch dude I felt so bad for the aliens being tricked heheheh #SNRKEHAHAHA ok...Tom & Neelix being pals is actually so funny. They're like 'how could this have happened...we're the toughest most street #smart guys in the book' OK. SURE. HEHEHEH #WHEN DID Y'ALL HAVE EDGE~?? /ESPECIALLY/ YOU TOM #Neelix was doing some shady shit (even though we all know he's a sofite) what'd you do besides get thrown in the clink Tom?#People who say there's no like...uhh character-only moments on Voyager just havent watched the show straight up #Neelix & Tom trying to swindle the EMH with a cup game <3 yeah...that's what this is all about #Janeway: (doing a great job being intimidating) / Tuvok: v_v mhm. / Janeway: Tell her all about it Tuvok.#Tuvok: O_O.....um......it's uh...whew it's bad over there....#Janeway: What about the prisons? / Tuvok: Oh yes the-the prisons....they don't give you lotion. You'll be deficient in at least THREE #vitamins before you're even brought to trial / Janeway: That's Enough of...that. <- trying not to laugh #Tuvok: (is an undercover agent) also Tuvok: I'm not good at small talk or improvisation.#Neelix how much did you talk about Tuvok bc this guy's really into it #Neelix: balablabla tuvok blablabla tuvok tuvok bla bla / Dala: ....(god this bitch is gay...good for me good for him)

46 notes · View notes

karizipan · 9 months

Text

assorted 🐟

#me when im compelled to draw jdj only bc of my friend. Shout out to love and friendship KWBWKRKF #<- i mean i love them but im so sick of seeing them always its like with narumitsu #we get it!!!#third image is of yjh and yma in braids..#last image whew. initially wanted to do swksp doodles <- they got me so bad im not gonna lie.#but i thought abt the regression wherein swk sacrifices himself so that yjh could make the final stretch and i went what if that happened-#when they were mu. when they were situationship...#also love the concept of being a very powerful being but even you can't seem to reach this guy with how distant he seems to be #also the jock x goth cafe fic got me EHWKWBWKE.#CAN ANYONE HEAR ME PLEASE MAKE MORE CONTENT OF THESE TWO. THIS TOO CAN BE SO YURI...

41 notes · View notes

steelycunt · 1 year

Note

I’m not saying that a lot of Regulus fans are only interested in him because they picture him as a Timothee Chalamet insert and wouldn’t give half a fuck about the character if that fancast didn’t exist but… oh wait that is what I’m saying.

yeah i mean. i definitely think there's something in that lol honestly. as ive said before i never really got the interest in regulus i just couldnt care less about the guy he genuinely has zero canon character but. simultaneously i can see how the little that we do know about him makes him an interesting character and i can see why people enjoy the idea of him as a blank slate that you can superimpose nearly any traits you want on to--treating regulus as essentially an oc gives you lots of room for creation. its for these exact reasons that he is of no interest to me personally, and i really don't like the common conceptualisation of him that has emerged from popular headcanon consensus (especially when it involves stripping his character of all agency and half the things that could arguably make him compelling in order to gloss over the fact that he was a death eater) but thats a matter of opinion i suppose. thats a me problem. its just not my cup of tea.

the timothee chalamet thing irritates me for the same reason the ridiculous instagram model/influencer/celebrity fancasts for most characters irritate me, because one of the ONLY things we know about regulus is that he is 'less handsome than sirius'. like ok why not work with that. especially with a character like him where there is virtually nothing to work with. like please explain to me why you refuse to accept that im genuinely curious. why is that the aspect of his character you are so firmly refuting lol.

all in all, if the character is only likeable or interesting or a convincing love interest if you have to pretend they were actually super conventionally attractive, maybe they're just not that likeable or interesting or well-suited to the character you're trying to pair them off with. its a personal thing again i am just not interested in reading/writing about a cast of characters who are all meticulously tailored to conform to beauty standards i do not respect. the minute u try to convince me all your characters are super hot n yassified it all feels less real to me sorry i care less about them. im bored of hot characters i think all fictional characters should be made to look like normal everyday people and i think everyone should be less afraid of so-called ugliness i triple dog dare u

#the 'you' here is just a general vague you btw it is not directed towards any one person and obviously not you anon we're in agreement #and reading it back i fear i may come off a little more aggressive than i intended so psa this is all my opinion like. do what you want #i am not the final word on this issue or any other. i am just a guy no 1 is obligated to listen to me if they dont want to. except about r #anyway remember talking to liv about the whole regulus thing and how. the personality that has been invented for him just seems like #people were bored of r/s they wanted something like r/s but new so they superimposed remus' personality onto him and then added a #few bits of sirius. and this is all me ranting about my opinion mindlessly now but i think #its reflected in those stupid terrible incorrect quote joke posts and how you see one of them where its remus and sirius and then see the #exact same post remade except remus has been changed to regulus and sirius has been changed to james. like yeah because regulus #is just a carbon copy of remus except if he was goth lol. we've done this one before its the same thing #and absolutely regulus can be done well and absolutely i am not a definitive judge of what is 'doing regulus well' just as no one else is #but i think if u want to do regulus well u have to make him less likeable. like he cant be ur soft loveable fav. girl he was a death eater #same as i think the whole barty / evan / regulus / pandora gang is just people refurbing the marauders. same thing different colour #anyway. i feel about regulus the same way i feel about dorcas or mary or marlene. they are not really characters #they dont have any definitive canon traits and i am not really interested in creating ocs. but other people might love that idea!#which is fine!#whew. love it when i get asks about things im scared to talk about of my own accord like i cant get in trouble if you guys asked me first x #anon #telegram #the brothers black #also girls he is a product of generation after generation of inbreeding. the black family should look like the windsors sirius was an #outlier.#oh also sorry i thought i was done but i want to clarify that i am no way saying you cannot be interested in morally grey characters or #find them compelling. instead what i am trying to say is that pretending a morally grey character actually isnt morally grey #in order to justify the fact that you are interested/fond of/compelled by them is boring and a disservice to your fav. hope that makes sens #within what we do know about regulus there are things that make him GOOD but not really anything that makes him likeable. and so much #of popular headcanon seems to be bestowing a ton of likeable traits upon him in order to redeem him despite there being no canon basis 4 it #like. we know regulus was a death eater 'it wasnt his decision he was forced into it!' we know regulus was less handsome than sirius 'no he #wasnt he was also super hot!' do you see what you're doing. you're losing me.

33 notes · View notes

indigodawns · 1 year

Text

#my guys getting a ~new diagnosis at 25 is EXHAUSTING???#at least as a chronic overthinker ig bc whew #every day i swing from oohhh yep im definitely autistic to noooo i don't think i fit it enough esp sensory wise and blabla #i make eyecontact (but now im thinking about it and it's like being conscious of your breathing yk?? and then it's like. is that why #it doesn't feel that natural suddenly or??? and if im a little uncomfortable i stop making eyecontact but ig that's ~normal)#and then with noise and light i don't KNOW i don't know if it's all bc im paying attention now #like you see MAYBE im just pretending my depression symptoms/self-dislike are autism but what actually happens is just that #and i wonder like is my almost compulsively picking at my nails or scabs (i know) stimming or? and what stims would i like how do you KNOW #anyways. had autism group therapy last week and it was v chill and lowkey and also relatable at times though we didn't cover that much #but the overhead lights stayed off and that was great bc i hate u massive tl lights (but im prone to migraines so who knows!)#anyways. my mum did say it makes sense to her and my sister accepted it in a heartbeat JDMDMD and she studies psych and had to #deal with me growing up and bossing her around (our strongest soldier)#and on holidays it takes me a week to get settled usually but i THOUGHT that was depression bc i feel isolated and lonely for a while #so yknow??? sighhhh i am discussing this in therapy but i wanna KNOW i want facts so i can speed through the acceptance process cmon #(i know.......)#anyways. if you're still reading 1) mwah and 2) input is always welcome #insofar any of this made sense

7 notes · View notes

in-sufficientdata · 2 years

Text

Your local ace here, reporting that I have been on tumblr for 10 entire complete years, and I finally have started to recognize that when people tag weird things on pictures of people, they mean they find that person attractive

[Image ID:

A gif of a Black woman gesturing as she says, "You know what that is? Growth."

End ID.]

#oh look a photoset of manny jacinto i bet they're going to say he's hot #i actually anticipate it now!!#also i am definitely demi and have learned what attraction is actually like and whew!#how do people deal with that happening randomly it took me #fully 6 months of being in a relationship with the guy idgi #i even get what the cold shower references are meant to mean for real #all he has to do is look at me #i fall right apart #conversely yes ace people attraction is hard to resist you literally cannot think straight #that's what all those stupid nonsensical adultery storylines and such are all about #this is why it's important to teach teens how to deal with being attracted because yeah #yeah #molly's mad life

8 notes · View notes

nonsupe-a · 1 year

Text

sometimes i catch myself wondering if vought ever, at any point, considered shiloh a dirty secret because of how he’s grouped in with a failed experiment regardless of his own success. obviously before much darker and dirtier secrets are buried but still ....

#you know because companies don't like failures #because one of thirty isn't a success #it isn't shiny and good in a report. its Terrbile.#and how so few people knew about the cv-a program. and that shiloh was part of it #and now he's just kind of this Guy #this guy thats very good at his job #that can stand his own against supes if need be. but /how/ isn't known except by those who are on the Need To Know(tm)#idk im thinkin out loud here #living and diving Deep in my feelings #not that it affected him any really. but he wasn't someone they boasted about. he was kind of swept under the rug #which made it easier for him to do the things he did obviously - easier for him to stay and work as their mess cleaner. their executioner.#the works but whew #WHEW #just thinkin

2 notes · View notes

heylinfanclub · 2 months

Text

Just watched something horrific and felt like it unlocked some part of me. IDUNNO IF ITS GOOOOOD. hfjsjsh maybe. Maybe it is.

#me.#(I was just talking about how I fear my anger cause it’s dangerous #(but I know it’s linked to passion and protectivity and love sometimes #(but sometimes you play a game and ur like wow. what a nice lil outlet. I’m horrified. but I feel GREAT. what a mix.#(my PASSIONS get tied up into OBSESSIONS and needing CONTROL #(so playing a game bout people who are also. existential and obsessive and maybe they do get a lil violent.#(is very cathartic #(I think for a long time I’ve been scared of ANY PHYSICAL OUTLETS for anger #(this is kind of a mental one I guess #(and man I’m not even mad I’m teehee gritting my teeth kicking my feet clenching my fists #(such a happy anger??? weird. I think I’m a sadist sometimes but I could never hurt somebody willingly.#(I was a mean kid and I never wanna be that bad again.#(but that doesn’t mean I can’t find a healthy outlet! in!!! fucking yandere games???#(not the simulator made by That Guy but just. some random games. and stories. whew #(just the occasional mostly horror visual novel that u sometimes get to kiss the killer in sighhhhhhhssss #(I guess this isn’t NEW I liked JTHM as a kid. but i rly am not. a gore person.#(I like the psychological horror and the relation to being in a headspace where u feel. too intense. constantly. and feel. NUTS.#(cause that’s a personal horror I live in and playin in that space without the repercussions of real life 👏🏻#(also cause recently trying to describe my attraction to people nonsexually I was like #(‘I wanna pin that guy to my wall’ ‘wow’ ‘no I mean like a bug’#(PRETTY PEOPLE FEEL LIKE ART TO ME. the urge is to keep them and look at them.#(not rly. anything else.#(which is ofc unreasonable but it’s a feeling I HAVE and it’s cool when a character says similar #(even if they are the villain hfkdd #(I also wanna make visual novels so I’m kinda tempted to take my own shot as something dark #(just to see what I can doOooo #(and cause I wanna get out that idea of a person who wanna keep people like art. aroace yandere when.#ask to tag:/#(idk everything weirds IN the tags so)

0 notes

slvttyplum · 29 days

Text

satoru does this weird thing when he gets jealous where he'll act extra cocky to the point when you notice and just spew nonsense to the person he's trying to make jealous, like…

“yeah if you think they're pretty now, you should see them after a two-hour fuck session.” while your face is scrunched up in absolute horror, this man does not play, if someone wants to disrespect the imaginary boundary he put between you and said person then he's going to make it as uncomfortable as possible.

now usually he would do it when you were around, but he noticed how annoyed you would get with him, and he hated it, your anger was misdirected, it was supposed to be for the cornball throwing themselves at you, not him, so he switched to doing it when you were out the room.

eyeing down the person dripping out spit, just looking at you made him sick, but he was going to fix that and fix that real fast.

“hot, huh? yeah, i understand. those hips and ass… whew.” taking a sip of his drink to drown down the laughs crawling up his throat from the person's face, flushed and obviously embarrassed.

the person just chooses not to say anything and watch your every move, satorus ears getting red as he stares him down and popping a blood vessel in his neck, it pissed him off so much, but he had to put this fucker in his place.

“fucking her must be crazy. ass being thrown back at you every second.” satoru getting flashbacks from the dirty words that were slipping past his lips and his dick getting hard. the person budges and laughs.

“yeah, that must be nice.” satoru only getting angrier by the second, but he had to lock in. now this isn't the first or last time he’ll do this, but it just drove him crazy that some people didn't have respect for the both of you.

satoru leans in towards the guy's ear and whispers something deep and low in his ear.

“i get to fuck her every single night.” the guy huffs and walks away, and satoru just smirks. that was his favorite thing to do whenever he saw someone gawking over you, it was disrespectful and made satoru blow.

if he had to he would literally airdrop every sex tape the both of you made to anyone flirting with you, he didn't play at all.

5K notes · View notes

familyvideostevie · 8 months

Note

Hey...could you perchance link that fic...? 👀🙏🏻

YEAH BABY I CAN it’s called I know it when I see it by @bageldaddy bageldaddy if you see this I’m bowing at your feet bc this is maybe one of the best fics I’ve ever read it’ll change your fucking life

#also it’s obvously 18+ so!!!#but dude it’s SO FUCKING GOOD #and it’s ongoing so #another delicious reason to stay alive #I don’t talk joel on this blog a lot #but fuck me guys I do read Joel stuff occasionally even though I don’t write him x readee #but whew #this is how you do an au guys

1 note · View note

hashtagloveloses · 7 months

Text

nanami kento is one of the hottest anime men of all time for SURE but it does make me laugh when people are like “whew love an older man omg daddy” because he’s 27 in JJK 0, 28 in the rest of the story. he had his quarter life crisis and went back to jujutsu after his prefrontal cortex finally snapped into place. he looks a little older and tired bc him and ijichi are supposed to be a commentary on how being a salaryman ages you but like. he’s a 28 year old man. he’s not daddy he’s just a Guy (a very nice and hot one) but like. a Guy.

same thing with Gojo. he’s 28 in JJK 0 and 29 in the rest of the story. he’s not even 30 please that’s not “daddy” that’s my twunk best friend who spends too much time at the gym and hasn’t unpacked his childhood trauma. “dad gojo” my brother in christ when he was taking care of megumi and tsumiki as kids he was a depressed gay guy in his late teens-early 20s who had just recently been politically radicalized. have you met a 20 year old guy in college. he is megumi’s annoying gay brother who doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing.

#original post #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #nanami #gojo #nanami kento #satoru gojo #kento nanami #gojo satoru

4K notes · View notes

bumblingbabooshka · 1 year

Text

Saw someone say that the chief emotion Tuvok struggles with is anger and boy? That made me struggle with anger

#examine your biases towards black characters (characters portrayed by black actors) RIGHT now #IT'S LOVE. IT'S LOVE IT'S LOVE IT'S LOVE.#Tuvok loved his pet Sehlat so much he ran away from home when it died #and he loved that girl from school so much that he had to get sent to a Vulcan monastery #and he loves his wife T'Pel so much that he refuses to be with anyone else to an illogical degree #like to the point where he nearly dies over it and refuses to even have sex with a hologram that DOESN'T look like her #'all Vulcans struggle with anger' is a true statement #'the overwhelming emotion Tuvok specifically struggles with is anger' is a false statement and also I'm doing the iasip meme #newsflash asshole: IT'S LOVE #off topic but this is also why I wish Tuvok's motivations for disobeying Janeway when he took that tech were more expanded upon #bc in my head it's at least partially bc he wanted to get back home to his family more than he wanted to follow Starfleet protocol #I just don't see how you look at Tuvok as a character and say 'yeah the FOREMOST thing I'm getting from this guy is anger'#hehe sorry I don't like sharing things that are just like wholly negative but ... whew -wipes my brow-

21 notes · View notes

ikarakie · 1 year

Text

after eddie introduces a demogorgon to one of his hellfire campaigns, the kids get a little squirmy. they're nervously looking at each other and aren't engaging as excitedly as they usually do. when he calls time, he watches dustin rummage through his backpack and produce a walkie talkie.

he watches, a bit dumbfounded, as the kid demands a 'check-in'. all at once, multiple different voices come over the channel. stating a name and then saying 'safe.' ("nancy, safe." "robin, safe." "max, safe.")

"steve?" dustin demands. there's only static. "steve!" a little more frantic this time.

"he left to pick you up." a female voice replies, "he's probably fine. you'll see him soon."

none of the kids look particularly pleased, and pack up hastily. eddie and the other hellfire members all share confused glances. he, more morbidly curious than anything else, follows the little sheep as they hurry out of the school.

dustin is fucking restless as they all stand in the empty parking lot. he won't stay still and none of them are answering any of eddie's questions. and he only gets more confused when a brown beemer pulls in, windows down and playing depeche mode through the speakers. dustin goes to sprint towards it, and he has to hold him by the collar to stop him getting run over.

the beemer pulls up and steve harrington, in all his glory, steps out, frowning. dustin wrenches out of eddie's grip and all but bodies the guy, wrapping arms tightly around his midsection. steve, still looking puzzled, hugs back. lucas and mike trail after dustin.

"we called a check-in." dustin says, a bit muffled from where his face is smushed into steve's shirt. steve goes sort of pale, and- and presses a goddamn kiss to the top of henderson's head before tightening the hug.

"shit, i'm sorry." and eddie believes him. he sounds so guilty. "i meant to replace the batteries before i left. sorry, i'm okay." dustin pulls back and scrubs at his eyes. lucas takes his place, though the hug he gives is more like one of those bro-hugs jocks seem to love. steve smiles regardless. he just ruffles mike's hair, who pouts in response but looks relieved nonetheless.

"asshole." he mutters. "rule four, walkies on at all times." steve nods as the kid half-heartedly waves goodbye to eddie and hops in the backseat of the beemer. lucas follows. dustin seems reluctant to walk around the car, to take his eyes off steve for even a second.

"you wanna stay over tonight?" steve asks, warm and gentle. he folds his arms and in that moment eddie thinks they look sort of like brothers. "robin and me were gonna watch some films. we can call your mom from mine."

the kid nods, looking a bit happier. steve slaps him on the back and motions him to get in the car. dustin swivels to hug and say goodbye to eddie (who sort of forgot he was physically present in this moment) before doing as he was told.

steve turns to eddie. which- whew! hi pretty eyes.

"sorry." he smiles and eddie can't for the life of him figure out what he's apologising for. "they, uh- yeah. them." he gestures vaguely at the car and eddie just chuckles.

"hey, man, no worries." he says, a little breathless that he's having a conversation with the steve harrington. "they okay? never seen henderson look so rattled." steve nods, then seems to think better of it and just shrugs. cocks his hip to the side (stop fucking staring at his hips, munson, lord!)

"they will be." he glances back at the beemer, which is now full of childish bickering. pauses to think and then asks, "you using demogorgons in your campaign right now?"

eddie blinks at him. "yes? yeah. what the fuck- how do you know what that is? what-" steve just laughs.

"long story." there's a haunted look in his eyes before he continues, "just, uh- that's probably what upset them. demogorgons and us- them, i mean-" he waves his hand. "bad memories. hard to explain, but... if you could..." he doesn't need to ask, seems like he doesn't know how or even if he's allowed.

"got it, ill tweak the campaign." harrington smiles at him, something small and genuine, and murmurs a thanks. offers him a fucking lift, which eddie declines, motioning to his van. harrington just nods, tells him to get home safe and then clambers back into the car, yells at the kids to put seatbelts on with all the exasperation of a single dad, and pulls away.

eddie watches them go, having seen a side of harrington he'd thought dustin had been lying about. steve harrington, the caring babysitter, everyone's older brother, a changed man.

he starts escorting the kids to the parking lot more often.

11K notes · View notes

luxurychristmaspudding · 4 months

Text

Pickup Truck

summary: frankie hates your boyfriend. in fact, everybody does. but he’s willing to give him a chance. you’re his best friend, after all.

until frankie discovers something he can never forgive.

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

ratings/warnings: 18+. MDNI. this fic contains allusions to, but no descriptions of, domestic abuse. please do not proceed if you know this will upset you.

frankie's pov. no lady and no baby for our boy. drinking, violence (against pos bf), angst, lots of hurt, allusions to dv. comfort, fluff. frankie to the rescue. unprotected p in v (wrap it irl!). oral, f receiving. creampie. bad spanish (again). kings of leon references. happy ending, of course.

wc: 9.8k

an: whew, this was an emotional one to write. but i hope a good love comes to all of you in time, no matter where you are at the moment. and if you already have it, may it always keep you safe. lovely divider from @saradika.

Frankie really doesn’t like your boyfriend.

Scratch that. Nobody does.

Nobody really knows where you found him, either. A sweet, smart girl like you, moved back to your small town from your big city life, and it looks like you picked up the very first guy who sidled up to you in a grimy bar.

Which, if you’re really honest, is exactly what happened. Because he was nice at first. Real nice. He was charming and sweet and interested - he bought you drinks all night and didn’t push to come in when he walked you home. You went for dinner a few times, and sure, he could be a little rude to the waitstaff, but it was only because he was so focused on you. He bought you flowers and took you for rides, and sure, sometimes he’d come home far too drunk after seeing his friends and get a little too close, a little too loud, but he always apologised.

And sure, he sometimes made you cry, but he always made it up to you. Sweet promises, small gifts. And he'd never laid a finger on you.

Not until last week, anyway.

You don’t know what to do. You don’t know who to turn to. The thought of it makes you so sick you have to lock yourself in the bathroom at work. How did this happen? How did it turn so sour?

And how do you get out?

Walk you home to see

Where you're livin' around

And I know this place

Frankie walks you home from the bonfire. He always does.

It’s his favourite moment of the night.

He gets to have you all to himself. Gets to watch your cheeks cool in the night air, watch as the blush from the heat of the fire subsides. Your giddy, wide eyes, your tipsy babbling about stories which had been swapped over the flames, picking out particularly scandalous details for you two to giggle about before doubling over into breathless laughter over something Benny had said.

He likes to hold your elbow, your hand, as you catch him in your amusement, gripping onto his bicep. He loves to lose himself in this little pocket of time with you.

He loves the sparkle of the stars, the glow of the streetlights as they light your features.

Frankie loves you.

And he’s so glad you’ve moved back from your life in the big city to come and be around your real friends again. So glad that you’ve all found your way back to each other. Tonight has left him with such a mellow tingle in his bones that he finds he can’t stop smiling at you, looking at you, on your walk home.

Bonfire nights have always been your monthly hangout, a time when you can be sure you’ll get the whole gang together. There used to be more of you through highschool, and still a fair few during college. It dipped when the boys joined the forces, when people moved further east and further north. But eventually Frankie, Benny, Santi, and Will had come back. Jessa, your other best friend, had returned too. A few others coming and going - Lily, Marcus, Maggie - also back and forth from their new homes to their old ones. And then eventually folk had just… settled.

Frankie felt like he was one of the last, like he was maybe the one finding it the hardest, retired to a life of civvy duties. Unable to hold down a girlfriend, struggling to stick at a job, sofa surfing around friends’ places. He was still flying whenever he could, but then this coke allegation happened, and it was like the world was finally swept from under him.

You were the first person he had called, the first person to talk him down from his panic, that debilitating squeeze around his heart when he thought about the future. The first person who made him feel like it would be okay.

So of course his joy when you had come back had been immeasurable. Maybe this time, he’d thought.

And then you’d met Tanner.

He’s pulled from his thoughts as you drag your hand out of his, skipping a little further up the dark street until you reach a corner. Frankie watches as you spin on the spot in the quiet neighbourhood, gesturing down the pathway before you.

‘This is me.’ You say.

But you don’t turn to keep walking. You watch him, a small, excited smile on your lips. Like you’re waiting for him to work it out.

Frankie drags his eyes from you, away from thoughts of your new boyfriend, to look up and down the street you’ve led him to, and for a second he is pulled beneath the ebbing flow of memory, towed with the riptide of things forgotten.

This is his grandmother’s street. Was his grandmother’s street.

The cracked concrete, the peeling paint of the porches. The weeds, the flowers, the smell.

He breathes your name like you’re the only thing tethering him to the now.

Breathes your name through the bright, sunny flashes of his childhood. His mama bringing him here with his brother, his papa swinging him by his legs in the flower-riddled front garden. Cartoons in the ripe heat of the afternoons, him and his cousins stuffing their faces with Guagitas and Frugele until they’d made themselves sick while the younger siblings napped in the sunbeams of the bedroom next door. Cycling over on his bike after school to sit at her kitchen table to do his homework, letting her fuss over him - his height, his friends, his grades, girls -

A skinnier, younger Frankie stopping by his abuela’s house with you to pick up her up for his nineteenth birthday party, along with her homemade tamales, her chiles rellenos, and specially made pumpkin sopaipillas for later on. The way you had chatted to her, natural, easy going, how you had made her laugh, her eyes sparkle. How, when you had taken some of the plates to the car, his abuela had pinched his cheek. I like her, she’d said, Será tuya algún día, mm, mijo? And Frankie had flushed bright red, batting her arms away as she chuckled at him. He had hidden in the back bedroom when you came in from outside, and listened a little longer to your conversation as he waited for the heat of his face to die down. When he reemerged, you had helped his grandmother into her shoes, her cardigan, and kept ahold of her arm until she got into Frankie’s beat up old car. At the end of the night, his abuela had kissed both your cheeks several times, rocked you back and forth in a hug, and clapped her hands as she said how she looked forward to seeing you again.

When you came home from college every summer, you’d have tea with her in her garden. She always asked Frankie about you, about how you are doing. When he told her you were coming home, she’d been so excited. Quizás este sea el momento? She’d said to him, squeezing his hand. He’d smiled, his heart quietly full of hope. Tal vez, abuela, he’d said.

When he called you two weeks later, his voice weak from crying, to tell you that she’d passed, you had been heartbroken. And it seemed like her wish, the red thread she’d seen between the two of you, had been snipped, too.

Pour yourself on me

And you know I'm the one

That you won't forget

Frankie likes to listen to you talk, because he’s never much been one for talking.

He supposes you just bring it out of him, though. Because here on this street, in the moonlight, he tells you more about his grandmother. You spend hours walking up and down the pavement as he recounts every story he can remember; him and his brother, his parents, aunts and uncles, cousins. Birthdays, weddings, funerals. The street comes alive with the ghosts of people, the spectres of feelings. You and Frankie talk of growing up. Of falling in love. Of each other.

Your small, well-loved house is half way down the street, four up from his abuela’s. It does something strange to his heart to have two of his favourite people, who loved each other in their own ways, so close but so far away.

Your fingers hold his wrist as he shows you a scar on his palm from eating shit on his bike when he was eight, and when he looks up, your eyes are shining under the streetlights. There is a glint of moon in your teeth, and a shocking want so clear on your face, but when he meets your eye there is suddenly hesitation, a realisation, a shuttering. Frankie stops his story. There is a moment, and then it slips away like sand.

You shiver, chilled all of a sudden, and wrap your arms around yourself. Frankie tries not to look too hard at the goose bumps blossoming on your bare skin, tries to fight off the urge to kiss the little raises until you’re warm again under his touch.

‘Cold?’ he asks, and you smile back up at him. God, his heart.

‘As a hole,’ you giggle, and he feels himself smile goofily back at you. ‘We gotta warm up.’ You say, and then freeze.

It takes Frankie a little while longer to hear the inadvertent invitation in your words.

Boyfriend. Boyfriend.

You both stand on the porch, frozen, like some great frost has swept over the land. If Frankie squints, he can imagine the glitter of your eyeshadow, now fallen, dusted on your cheeks, is a collective of tiny constellations of ice.

Your body is wracked with a shiver again, but when Frankie looks you in the eye, you’re burning up from the inside. He swallows.

If he could only make the steps towards you. If he could only will his heavy feet to move, if he could summon his nerves to do exactly what his brain says, he would already be in front of you. He would have your face in his hands, be able to look into your eyes to see that deep, hidden want again, and kiss you. Again and again and again, and he wouldn’t stop, because things like that shitty boyfriend of yours wouldn’t matter anymore.

No. The whole world would be glitter and stars and constellations of ice crystals.

And then you blink, smile softly, and wish him a goodnight.

When he can finally lift his foot to move, your door is already closed.

And in your denim eyes

I see that something's awry

And I see you’re weak

You don’t see Frankie for a while after that, always finding a way to brush off his attempts to hang out.

At first he doesn’t worry too much about it. You’ve just moved back - you have a new job, a new place, new friends to get to know. Tanner.

Frankie finds other things to do. He gets business cards made up for the flying school he’ll be setting up next month. He pilots people across the state, sometimes across the country. He sees the boys for drinks, even sees Jessa for a coffee. He starts to worry when they say their texts have gone mostly unanswered, and they haven’t seen you either.

It must be why he turns up on your front step one day, a six pack in hand.

You open the door on the second ring of the doorbell, and Frankie finds himself rendered speechless. You look… different.

Tired and wary, a little thinner. And when he gets you chatting, you say you haven’t really been anywhere, done anything. You’ve been settling in, getting used to it. You have two beers each, but you seem on edge, like you’re waiting for a knock on the door. And then Frankie asks about Tanner, and your eyes linger on the entryway a little longer.

‘Yeah,’ you say, ‘He’s okay.’

Frankie’s jaw twitches, his stomach clenching uncomfortably.

‘Just okay?’ He asks.

Because you should be excited. You should be gushing and giddy and falling in love. But you’re not.

‘Yeah,’ you shrug. ‘He’s good.’

There’s something in your eyes. Something which shrinks away, skitters back. Something drained, something sapped of life, of energy. Hurt, maybe. Fear, perhaps.

When Frankie thinks back now, he knows he should have pressed you harder. Maybe should have taken you to his, made you talk a little more for a little longer. Away from Tanner, the threat of his presence. But he didn’t. He didn’t.

And he hates himself for it.

When he comes around

I see you're fixin' to shine

And my face won't speak

When Frankie next sees you, you’ve had a hair cut, and there are deep, dark bags under your eyes. Both of these things worry him equally.

Your beautiful hair that you’d been growing out since you were young, hair that you swore you’d never cut shorter than it was in seventh grade, when your mum had to chop it into a bob after you got gum caught in it. And here it is now, much shorter.

Jessa says she likes it, and you give her a watery smile, a weak thank you. She asks where you had it done, when. She asks if you like it, and you shrug. You say you’re trying something new. You say Tanner likes it.

Over your shoulder, Frankie exchanges a look with Santi.

You’re quiet the whole time you're at the bar. Far too quiet, so far from the bubbly conversation you usually hold, your loud cackle, your bent-double amusement. Your affection for your friends - the hands on knees, arms around shoulders, kisses pressed to cheeks. It’s hardly there.

Frankie offers to walk you home, but you wave him off kindly. Tanner’s picking me up, you say, he’s probably outside. Jessa frowns at you.

‘Are you sure, babe?’ She says. ‘It’s not even late yet.’

You smile and nod at her, gather your stuff to go. Jessa catches your arm.

‘We’re still on to go shopping Saturday, though - right?’

You smile at her, the first warm one you’ve mustered all night.

‘Of course,’ you say, ‘I’m looking forward to it.’

When you stand to leave, you hug everybody goodbye. Tightly, for longer than usual. Frankie doesn’t give you an option when he walks you out to Tanner’s car. The smug prick is hanging out the driver’s seat window. He watches Frankie as you walk up, hostile, threatening, arrogant, and somehow still ridiculous. And, Frankie thinks cruelly - ugly.

Frankie pulls you into his arms a few steps away from your boyfriend. He kisses your hair, and you sigh.

‘Have a good time on Saturday,’ he says softly. You twitch a smile at him.

‘Thank you, Frankie.’ You say before stepping back and walking to open the passenger door. As you climb in, Tanner winks at him.

‘Gettin’ a new one tomorrow,’ he says, stupid fucking grin on his face. ‘New car. Exciting stuff. Anyway, better get this one back,’ he says, squeezing your knee a little too hard. You don’t look at Frankie, something like humiliation colouring your cheeks. ‘See you around, Frank.’ Tanner says.

Frankie steps back from the car as it glides forwards, and he watches it disappear up the street.

Deep anger burns in him. And a kind of fear. It crawls over his skin, cooling the sides of his neck. His heart churns uncomfortably in his chest.

He tells your friends about it when he returns to the table. And they form a plan. Jessa texts you a time she’ll pick you up on Saturday. You say you’re excited again, you need some new clothes.

But Frankie knows Jessa won’t take you shopping.

No, she brings you here, to the beach, to the bonfire. To him, to Santi and Benny and Will. Because they’re worried.

So worried, they tell you.

They sit you down in one of the chairs around the fire, and they explain why they’re worried. They tell you they love you - so much - and they just need to know if you’re okay. Because they can help. They want to help, want you out of this, because he’s not good for you. The silence, the hair, the clothes you were going to buy. They tell you they hate the way he doesn’t let you speak, how he speaks to you. And you are so quiet through all of it, Frankie begins to get more worried. He speaks to you gently over the fire, but you can’t meet his eye. He tells you his worries, their love for you again. He swallows down his own confession, anything to make you see. How they don’t want you pushed closer to him, want you to be pulled closer to them instead.

But your eyes are so vacant, so far away, that Jessa leaves her deckchair next to you to sit on the burned up log closer to you on your other side. She takes your hands, and you finally, finally look at her. You open your mouth, and you say so quietly -

‘You’re right. You’re right.’

It feels like the biggest gulp of oxygen Frankie has ever taken. He feels lightheaded from the relief, from the knowledge. They were right, they were right, which is a terrible, terrible thing.

Will clears his throat, and Frankie looks at him to see similar thoughts flicking over his face like film reel. He licks his lips, opens his mouth, and -

Hate to be so emotional

I didn't aim to get physical

But when he pulled in and revved it up

I said, ‘You call that a pickup truck?’

And in the moonlight I throwed him down

Kickin', screamin' and rollin' around

A little piece of a bloody tooth

Just so you know I was thinking of you

Whatever Will is about to say is cut short by the sweep of headlights over the brush near the dunes.

A beat up old pickup truck bumps up the track and pulls up alongside Will’s Ranger. The driver’s side window slides down, and Tanner’s face emerges from the gloom. He revs the engine loudly, making you and Jessa jump. A sick feeling curls in Frankie’s stomach as he watches him, this piece of shit who’s been so busy crushing you down.

Tanner leaps out of the truck, and slams the door. Frankie looks over at you, visibly panicked on the other side of the fire. How the fuck did he find you?

‘Hey baby,’ Tanner says, sickly sweet as he strolls towards you, ducking to press a kiss to your unresponsive mouth. He turns to the rest of the group, eyes skating over Will and Ben until they land on Frankie. Tanner steps towards him, offers his hand.

‘Good to see you again, Frank,’ he says, ‘Told you I’d be getting a new ride.’

Frankie stares at his hand. He takes a deep swig of his beer, breathing deeply before looking Tanner in the eye, refusing to shake it.

‘I’m surprised to see you.’ He says to the dirty-haired man.

Tanner tries his best to appear unfazed, but there’s a glimmer of something hot behind his eyes.

‘’Course man, wanted to show off the new pickup.’ He says, grinning broadly. He looks around again, eyes falling hungrily on Jessa. She shifts uncomfortably on the log, rearranging her body so there’s less for him to look at. A deep heat begins to rise in Frankie’s chest.

He glances again at the ancient car that Tanner’s driven up in. The front bumper almost hanging off, the red paint aged and scratched, bumps caved in all up the sides, the roof sagging.

‘You call that a pickup truck?’ Frankie says lightly. Tanner narrows his eyes at him, angry, before he catches the sound of Santi’s laugh.

He whirls around to the other man and spits -

‘Who the fuck are you?’

Frankie almost laughs, too. Almost.

Pope spreads his hands. He looks up at him through his brows, a glint in his eyes that Frankie is violently familiar with. You must notice it, too, because you clear your throat and say -

‘Santi’s one of my friends.’

Tanner doesn’t even look at you. Just keeps staring at Pope.

The moment seems to last an eternity. Frankie feels like he’s watching everything through sludge, like he’s in someone else’s dream. His whole body is on edge, vibrating, ready to lunge - he’s just not sure at who. He looks between the two men before he catches your eye through the flames. The adrenaline in Frankie’s heart gutters at the look of panic in your eyes.

Please don’t let them do this. Please help me stop it.

Frankie glances back to Pope, and says, so softly only he can hear it -

‘Pope.’

And Santi immediately looks away, taking a swig of his beer.

Tanner stands there still, clearly baffled at Santi’s sudden lack of interest. Then he turns to the rest of the group like a petulant child, a toddler who has been ostensibly robbed of its favourite toy.

‘It’s a good truck,’ he says, before turning to you. ‘Ain’t it, baby?’

You hum your agreement as Tanner scoops a beer from the pile by Will’s chair, shucking off the top with his teeth. Jessa looks away, disgusted. He settles himself in the deckchair at your side.

‘Y’aint allowed to touch it, of course, sugar,’ he says to you, before laughing into his bottle. ‘Ruin everything you come into, anyway. Root of all my problems, ain’t ya?’ Tanner takes a pull of his beer. The group is silent around him. Around you. Tanner notices.

‘Boy, fun bunch you are.’

You look at him through your eyelashes.

‘Baby, that’s enough.’ You say as softly as possible, and Frankie cringes at the pet name.

Tanner looks at you sharply. Dark, furious. It’s in the pinch of his jaw, the anger at what you’ve said so obviously rolling around in his skull.

Frankie hates him for it. And he hates that he hates him for it. There are already so many things he hates him for, but he’s so fucking stupid it’s almost funny. Not your equal in any way. In kindness, in conversation or in intellect. And not even willing to try. To learn. For you. Just trying to dumb you down instead, squash you into smaller, more digestible bites to chew on.

When it comes down to it, Tanner has nothing smart to say back. He just pushes a short breath from his nostrils and mutters out a little -

‘Well, well, well.’

Then he flexes his fingers against the chair, and you flinch.

You flinch hard, your brows coming together, chin scrunching, waiting for the blow to land. And when it doesn’t, your eyes flicker open slowly. Hollow, bereft, drained and dim.

Tanner hasn’t noticed, but everyone else has.

The awful unveiling of your last secret.

Frankie forces the bile down his throat. His head swings forward to the ground of its own accord, a faint, resonant ringing in his ears. When he looks at his hands, they aren’t his own. In fact, he recognises no part of his body as the ringing gets louder, as he gently places his beer bottle on the floor. When his eyes leave the dirt, the mix of faces around the fire are all mirror reflections of each other. Horror, disgust, grief. Grief that this is what you hid from them, this is what they have taken too long to pull you from. The burning building splintering around you, your shell of a body immovable in the middle.

You won’t meet his eye. You won’t meet anyone’s eye as your hand shakes around your bottle. Jessa notices. She stares at your trembling fingers for too long, but she can hardly say anything. None of them can. Her eyes shine like beacons from her seat, wet with tears. Frankie sees her bottom lip quiver, her chin dimple. And then she swallows, swallows again, and reaches for your hand.

You flinch again, softer this time, and Frankie is sure everyone around the fire - everyone in the town, the world, must hear his heart crack. Because he feels it so keenly, so deeply, that it takes the air from his lungs. His breath is caught in his throat, and no matter how hard he tries to draw it, it seems impossible to claw it down. He’s drowning. He’s drowning right here in front of everybody, and it makes it all the worse to know that this is how you must feel. Every damn day.

Come on, he hears Jessa say, Let’s go and get another drink. And through the dark swirling of his mind he watches the two of you stand slowly and disappear towards the back of Frankie’s truck. He waits until Jessa has you hidden from view, her arms around your hunched back as you bring your hands to your face - crying - and that’s when the thread snaps.

Frankie gets to his feet, slowly.

Pope and Will watch him. Benny is still staring at Tanner.

Tanner looks up at him, chin jutted out, smirking as Frankie approaches.

He’s challenging him. He’s waiting for a war of words, for the shouting to begin, for the insults, the observations to fly.

He expected the wrong war from a soldier.

The first punch sprawls him out of his seat. It makes a satisfying cracking sound, and the first trickle of blood starts to bleed from behind his lip.

Then Frankie kicks him. He kicks him hard in the ribs, making sure he doesn’t have enough time to recover from the punch to deflect Frankie’s boot.

Tanner clutches at his abdomen, wheezing, gazing up at Frankie with bewildered eyes. Fucking coward.

Frankie grabs him by the front of his shirt, pulls him upwards. He has nothing to say to him, but the fury he feels, this deep, endless, swirling pit of rage, he lets him see. He lets it fill him from the soles of his feet all the way up through his eyes, and he lets it bleed out. He lets the blackness flood the ground. He lets Tanner watch it, lets it petrify him, and then Frankie swings again. Tanner takes it on his chin this time, his jaw snapping closed, and when it goes lax, a couple jagged bits of tooth fall out. Frankie grunts in satisfaction and swings again, again, until blood spouts from Tanner’s eyebrow and his cheek begins to bruise and swell. Frankie breathes deeply, in rhythm, doesn’t even feel it when Tanner manages to land a lucky punch to his eye socket. He plants a knee into the other man’s crotch, lands him an elbow to the back of his head when he keels over, and then shoves him to the ground. Frankie gets on the floor with him, raining blows down on Tanner’s body, his face. He’s methodical about it, a punch to each eye, the crack of the cunt’s nose, one to either side of his mouth, then bloodying up his jaw. He’s aware, somewhere, that Tanner is screaming. Strangled, gargling sounds trying to claw up his throat. And then he’s aware of two pairs of hands around each armpit, dragging him away, pulling him up. Will is saying something in his ear, that’s enough, Frankie, alright now, and Benny is speaking, too, panicked - you’ll kill him, Fish, come on man.

Frankie blinks, really looks at Tanner where he lays bleeding on the dirt. His eyes already swelling, a couple more teeth scattered on the ground next to him. His face different shades of red and purple, a mess of a man, and Frankie is pleased. He could keep going. He wants to see him bleed much, much more. Will and Benny keep their grip on him.

‘Leave,’ Frankie growls, low, without a quiver in his voice. ‘And don’t you ever come back. You ever look at her again, I’ll gouge out your fuckin’ eyes. You ever touch her again, I’ll break every bone in your body. I’ll make sure they don’t find anything left of you.’

Tanner doesn’t say anything, which must be the only smart thing he’s ever done in his life. But he still doesn’t move.

The four men watch him for a moment, the silence heavy, broken only by the crackle of wood and Tanner’s heavy, wet breaths.

Then Benny lets Frankie go, steps forward and picks the man up by his collar, swinging him around to the direction of his truck. He throws him down on the dirt.

‘Move,’ he spits. ‘Get out of here. And if you have the courage on the way, wrap your fucking truck around a telephone pole.’

Tanner finally has the good sense to crawl over to the vehicle. He hauls himself up the scarred body work before creaking open the driver’s door and slipping inside. The truck sputters to life, yellow bulbs flooding the bonfire site again before it quickly backs away, turns, and drives off. Frankie watches its blinking red brake lights until he’s sure the cunt is gone, and then he turns around.

You’re stood with Santi’s arms wrapped around you, back from the fire where Tanner’s blood is drying. Pope strokes your hair, squeezes you tightly as your body shudders. And Frankie can only stare.

Minutes might have passed. Hours. And Frankie is terrified. Terrified that he’s scared you, broken you, pushed you away. And then you turn your face on Pope’s chest, moving your head from shoulder to shoulder, and you’re looking at him. Eyes red-rimmed and raw, face flushed and damp, and it’s like Frankie’s trance breaks.

Frightened, he takes a step forward. He breathes your name.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says, and you shake your head. Fuck. What has he done? What has he allowed himself to do? ‘I’m sorry, querida, please - I know, I know -’ but what does he know? He looks to Santi, pleading for help, and the man offers him a small smile as you step out of his arms.

Through a fog, you come towards him. Your chin wobbles. Your eyes swim. You’re a little wide-eyed, a little shocked. And something else, something beyond his reach.

You get to him, and your arms make their silken way around his middle as you begin to cry. Hot tears stain the front of his shirt, and he cradles you to him, holding your skull gently, enveloping your abdomen. A loud sob looses from your ribs.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers, ‘I didn’t mean to scare you.’ You wrap your arms around him tighter, press your nose into his sternum.

‘I’m not scared of you, Frankie,’ you sob into his chest. He clutches at the back of your head, holds you even closer, strokes your hair. When you speak again your voice is higher, strained with your tears. ‘I could never be scared of you.’

The sting in Frankie’s throat becomes hot, burning. He doesn’t know whether to pull you impossibly closer or to push you away, to run as far as he can from your broken, heaving body in his arms. Because what he’s done should scare you. It should. He’d lost all control. The only thing he’d been able to see, to feel was his all-consuming, depthless fury. And Tanner’s face as it splintered, bloodied, swelled. And he’d wanted to keep going, until there was just pulp. No nerve endings, no teeth, no eyes, no mouth, no body that he could ever hurt you with again. He doesn’t want you to hurt any more.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers into your hair.

Trembling misery

And as cold as a hole

I hug your bones and skin

Frankie holds your hand the whole way home, the drive passing in a dazed silence.

You still don’t talk when you get to his place, when he unlocks the door, lets you in, and locks it behind him. You take his hand in the quiet cool of the house, lead him upstairs. He follows, slowly, sore, exhausted. Trying to process it all.

When you reach the landing, you turn on the bathroom light, and he trails behind you. He stands propped against the sink as you dig around in his medicine cabinet, finding wipes and bandages and anything else you think might be useful. You take Frankie’s hand again, examine his bruised, bleeding and swollen knuckles with solemn eyes. You are so gentle, twisting his hand in the light, inspecting. You look over it for a while, and Frankie watches you. When you reach for an antiseptic wipe, your hand is shaking.

Frankie winces silently when you start to dab at the blood on his knuckles, cleaning it away with minute swipes. You chase the dried rivulets of blood down his fingers, over his palm. The scar there from when he ate shit riding his bike.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says. You ignore him, breathing shallowly as you inspect his hand, holding his wrist, cleaning blood which is no longer there.

‘Might be a hairline fracture or two,’ you say, distant. ‘I won’t bandage it, gonna let it dry out first. But you’ll need to rest it. And we’ll need to ice your eye.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he says again, into your hair. You shake your head, and the light catches the different colours in every strand. Frankie’s throat tightens.

‘Please stop apologising.’ You whisper.

A shaky breath pushes itself from between Frankie’s lips.

‘No, querida,’ he says softly, ‘It wasn’t right. Shouldn’t have done it. And I shouldn’t have let you see -’ he swallows thickly, throat bobbing. He looks over your head at the white tiles behind you as your grip on his wrist tightens. You still don't look up at him. ‘But it’s not how you treat someone you love. Not how it should be. Should be protecting them, treating them right, loving them the way you love -’ him. He cuts himself off, because he realises as he says it he’s wrong. So wrong.

Right to be like you in your gentleness. In your care, your touch, your tenderness, your loving. But Tanner deserved none of those things. He didn’t deserve your faith, didn’t deserve your protection or your silence either. None of it.

He closes his eyes.

An image of you flickers through Frankie’s mind. Your fingers on his wrist as they are now, your eyes shining under the streetlights. The glint of your teeth, and the want so clear on your face, then the hesitation, the fear, the shuttering -

And if only he had kissed you then. If only you had taken him inside. He could have shown you what it was supposed to feel like. He could have saved you from the hurt, the fear which lay ahead.

There’s a splash of warmth on the pale skin of the underside of his forearm, and he opens his eyes again. You’re still hunched over his hand, but your movements have stilled. Frankie waits, confused, before another warm drop lands on his arm and you hiccup a sob out. He whispers out your name, and you turn your face up to him, devastated.

Frankie’s face crumples, and your grip on his wrist loosens enough for him to lift his hands to your face and cup your cheeks.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says, ‘I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said it. I wasn’t thinking -’

‘You think I love him?’ You croak.

Frankie’s jaw works around his next sentence, his next thoughts. He tries to process what this means. That look in your eyes, your tears, your implication. His lips move, but no sound comes out.

‘I don’t love him, Frankie,’ you choke, ‘I don’t. Christ - I don’t think I ever did, I never could -’ you suck in a deep, stuttered breath. ‘I’ve never - never hated anyone more. I couldn’t stand him, couldn’t have him near me, couldn’t have him touch me -’ Frankie flinches at your words. ‘But I was so scared. And embarrassed. I didn’t know how to leave - I didn’t know how to tell anybody about what was going on. I was terrified of what he’d do. To me, to you guys, if he found out I’d spoken about it. And he made it so hard for me to see you, so hard for me to get away.’ You sob now, panic and relief forcing out your words. ‘I thought - wherever I go, he’ll find me. He’ll track me down, and he’ll bring me back - and somehow - somehow that was worse than if he tracked me down and - and - I don’t know, killed me or something -’

Frankie’s eyes shutter. He can’t even follow your thought, so awful is the image, the gaping emptiness. He pulls you close, he lets you cry. Curled into his chest, your body wracking with tears, shaking, tense and uncontrollable, the sounds you make rooting in his brain. They file themselves away in a box where very few things go. Deployment. Tom. The darkness after his investigation. You break and break in his arms, and it’s all he can do to hold the pieces of you together. To press kisses to your head, breathe in the smell of your hair, rub his hands over your back, cradle you like a child.

He doesn’t know how long the two of you stand there for. He waits until you stop sobbing, stop crying softly, stop hiccuping, stop sniffing. He waits for a few more minutes in the silence, too. And when he pulls away, he presses a long, sweet kiss to your forehead.

You blink up at him through red, swollen eyes.

‘You’re safe here.’ He says, and you nod.

‘I know. Thank you. For - everything.’ You say thickly. Frankie swallows, nods. You know it all anyway. Any time, for however long you need.

He pads downstairs to get you a glass of water, and while he’s pouring it, he can hear you blow your nose, wash your face. Somehow, they are the most perfect sounds in the world.

Crackling wood’s gone white

And my eye swole up now

I can see the light

Frankie gives you one of his sleep-stretched t-shirts and an old pair of shorts for you to wear to bed.

The clothes dwarf you a little, and he can’t wipe the small, thrilled smile from his face, even when he looks away. You look fucking adorable.

You giggle at him every time you see it, your little what? only making him smile harder. It stretches his mouth until it hurts and his cheeks start to cramp up, squishing his swollen eye. Stop he tries to say, but it comes out as an equally breathless huff of laughter - and that only makes you giggle more. So much so that he sweeps you up into his arms to stash you under the covers, and you laugh even harder as he tucks the sheets in tight around you, just like his mama used to do when she wanted him to stay put.

He looks down at you from the side of the bed, hands on his hips, and you laugh back at him - eyes shining, mouth open in wide hoots of delight, your hands coming up in a desperate attempt to contain yourself. He points a finger at you.

‘You need to calm down,’ he says, voice tight with bridled amusement. ‘It’s bedtime.’

But you cackle back at him, this glorious puddle of sunshine in his bed, only howls of laughter for a response. Unable to help himself, he returns your joy, turning off the bedside lamps to slip in beside you.

In the darkness, your snorts subside into ragged breaths, and you turn on your side to look at him. You study him as though you never want to forget a single line on his face; such warmth, such affection in your eyes that Frankie’s whole body swells and lifts.

You take his hand beneath the sheets and hold it between your faces, smiling softly at him.

The first and only girl he’s really ever loved. This brilliant, fierce, bright, intelligent woman damped down by the waste of fucking space who had bled by the fire. At the thought of it, Frankie feels his heart fall out of his chest, down through the floorboards, and plummet towards the middle of the earth.

And finally, he begins to cry.

He tries to stop it, he really does. It’s selfish, he thinks, so awful and selfish to cry in front of you when it’s you who should be wrapped in his arms, swept away by emotion again if you needed to be, safe and warm and unworried, never having to fret about anything again.

But he can’t stop it. It comes out in great shuddering breaths - pained, wracked sounds slipping past his lips, and he can’t help it. He tries to gather them in his hands to shove them back in his mouth, tries to scoop them in his arms and press them back into the caving ache of his chest, but he can’t.

When Frankie was a child, he saw his dad cry once. Only once, and exactly like this, after his father’s brother was killed in a car accident. He had seen it through a crack in his parents’ bedroom door, and it had hurt him. It had wounded him, as a child, to see his father break with such grief, such pain, such emptiness, and to know there was nothing he could do about it. And now, he is split into those two people - younger self, older self - as he thinks of you lying next to him on the bed. This person who he loves so much, who is now so full of the knowledge of the worst parts of living, wound up so tight within you that you let it settle, let it unfurl around your bones. He sees your hurt, your grief, your pain refracted around him tenfold, and he hurts with you. He sees you as the boy he once was, this poor creature looking in at a heart breaking, as he has unknowingly watched yours break for months.

And he’s so sorry, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to stop saying it.

But here you are, still, performing the ultimate act of kindness. Comfort.

He feels the mattress move as you slide closer to him, and then your hand is on his back, swooping in gentle movements. He feels the scrabble of your fingers under the ribs he has pressed into the bed, the pressure of your arm moving under him so you can hold him properly. Frankie sobs harder, but he opens his body to you. You press closer to him, burying your face in his neck, and he breathes you in as he cries. Your scent is here, you are here. And like you heard him, you whisper -

‘It’s okay, Frankie. It’s okay. ’M here. I’m safe.’ And this realisation allows a little more air, but it doesn’t make Frankie’s guilt, his shame any better. But you’re right, he knows it. And somewhere in his crying, this turns his gasps to tears of relief. Softly, you retract your arms from around him.

You take his hands away from his face, and kiss the palms. You kiss each fingertip, each bruised and cracked knuckle. You lean forward and press a kiss to each tear, each trail of saltwater on his face. And you are so beautiful in the moonlight. Soft and wide eyed. Safe. Kind, always kind, and full of understanding. Frankie sees now that you have been crying against him, too, your eyelashes cloyed with tears. Sees his thoughts in your eyes as though you have had each of them zip to you through the air. When you were a child, you saw your dad cry once. Only once, and exactly like this, after…

A smile breaks through your eyes, chasing away the remnants of tears, glazing down, softening your lips.

And Frankie doesn’t think this time. His feet don’t fail him. He doesn’t think of stars or glitter or constellations of ice crystals. He just kisses you. And kisses you and kisses you and kisses you. And he doesn’t stop, because nothing else matters anymore.

You’re safe. You’re warm. You’re in his bed.

You’re here.

You tip your head back, deepening the kiss, licking into Frankie’s mouth. He gives in so easily to you he’s almost ashamed. But then your fingers clutch at him, ball at the bottom of his shirt, tangle in the thick of his hair, and all his thoughts are forgotten. He feels you slip a soft, strong leg over his, pulling him forward. You groan against him, and Frankie’s cock twitches. You feel it, you must do, as you pull your body closer to him, tight against him. Frankie is so lightheaded he doesn’t know where his hands are, what they’re doing - and when he concentrates, he finds them skating over your back, squeezing the tension out of the back of your neck, gripping your hip.

He moans against you as you rock your hips over his thigh, as he feels the heat of your sex against his skin. He feels like he’s on fire.

You slip a hand under his sleep shorts and palm him, brushing his silken length with two fingers, feeling him grow harder, thicker against you. You take him in your hand, pump him once, twice with the perfect grip, the perfect speed, like you were made for him. He’s gasping against you, panting as you suck his lower lip into your mouth.

‘Baby,’ he groans, breathless, ‘We don’t have to. We really don’t -’

You look up at him through gorgeous, glazed eyes.

‘I want to,’ you say, ‘Do you?’

Dangerous, dangerous question.

Frankie tries to shake his head, look away, think of anything but the tight fist of your fingers around his cock.

‘I do,’ he says, ‘I do. But I don’t think - this is the right thing -’

You loosen your grip, draw away from him. His body aches with a shudder.

His eyes flick back to yours again - confused, hurt - fuck, he can’t do that to you, ever -

‘I - I don’t want to take advantage of it - of you,’ he says. Your eyelashes flutter against your cheeks as you look down the sheets towards your toes. His jaw tightens. ‘And - and I don’t want this to mean - different things for us. I don’t want it to ruin what we have.’ Frankie breathes out heavily through his nose. He has to tell you now. He has to. ‘I don’t want it to mean different things, because I love you. I always have. And if we do this, if I have you even just for a night, I - I’ll never recover from it.’ Tears spike in his eyes again. He tries to smile. ‘You’d ruin me. And I don’t think I’d ever forgive you for it.’

Your breath hitches in your throat, and Frankie watches as your eyes flit back up to his. They search his face, the dribble of his barely-shed tears, the slope of his sad smile. You bring a hand up to cup his cheek, running your thumb over his scraps of beard. He closes his eyes.

‘What you said earlier,’ you begin. Frankie swallows. He waits for the blow of rejection. ‘About me - about me loving him.’ He opens his eyes slowly to find yours, bright and clear. Something begs to bubble over in them. Something golden and warm. ‘You were wrong - obviously. And I couldn’t tell you truly why, because I was afraid. So afraid of pushing you away, even though I think that’s all I’ve ever done. I’ve never thought I was worth it, Frankie. I don’t deserve you. And I am terrified of how much I love you.’ You beam at him, eyes bubbling over with that thing - love - ‘I love you,’ you say simply, like it’s not the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard.

A stunned little laugh ripples up his throat, and you copy it. He grips your face in his hands, and kisses you again, again, again.

‘I love you,’ he says.

‘I love you, too,’ you giggle.

‘And you are,’ he presses to your lips, ‘You are absolutely worth it.’

He rolls over on top of you, and begins to kiss your jaw, nipping at the skin there, before moving down your throat. He kisses you with a hot, open mouth, sucking marks into the sensitive skin at your pulse point. Mine, he groans, and you whimper against him, rubbing your thighs together.

Frankie pushes your shirt up - his shirt - so he can bite at your chest, press kisses to every bit of exposed skin. Every single part of you that deserves to be loved, every single place which has so far been unknown to him. He sucks each nipple into his mouth, delighted when you keen beneath him, panting, please, please Frankie, before he sinks lower down, peeling his shorts away from you to expose your glistening cunt.

He groans, unable to take his eyes away from it as he leans forward, pressing his body into the mattress to lick a stripe from your asshole to your clit.

‘Frankie -’ you groan down at him as he begins to work at you, sucking and licking, nipping at your thigh before slipping his tongue into your hole, swiping and tasting everything you’re giving to him. He grinds himself into the mattress, hissing at the relief, the uncomfortable weight of his cock dragging below him.

‘Taste so good, baby,’ he tells you, and he doesn’t think he ever wants to taste, wants to smell anything else ever again. All he can do is eat at you, breathe you in, until you’re begging him -

‘Frankie, your fingers - please -’ And he flexes his hand at your hip before brushing a fingertip against your entrance and gasping at the pain.

You try to bear down towards him, but he rips his hand away, lifting his head towards you.

‘Can’t,’ he gasps, and you mewl, bucking your hips up to his face, desperate. ‘Hand’s fucked,’ he says, and you still your movements before beginning to laugh again. It’s loud and from your belly, and it's bizarre. But Frankie gets it. He gets it, and he giggles too. He doesn’t try to fuck his broken knuckles into you, but he does try to continue lathing you with his tongue. You’re making it pretty fucking difficult, though.

‘Stop laughing,’ he huffs against your clit, ‘I’m trying to make you come.’

‘Okay,’ you say, gasping for air, ‘Okay. I’m sorry. I’m very sorry. You’re doing really well, by the way.’ But this only makes him laugh. He groans, leaning his forehead against your inner thigh. ‘This is impossible.’ He pouts.

‘Nooo,’ you cry, leaning up on your elbows to pout down at him. ‘Please, baby. I’ll be good. I’ll be so good. I won’t laugh anymore.’

‘Promise?’ He says. You hold out your pinky to him.

‘Pinky promise.’ You say.

Frankie stretches his hand out to you and tries to extend his pinky. He winces at the sharp pain which shoots from the movement, and grunts at you, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

‘You bastard,’ he says, trying and failing to hold his smile, ‘You knew I wouldn’t be able to do that.’

‘Just keeping you on your toes,’ you grin, and then before you can make any more smart remarks, Frankie resumes his ministrations, lapping and tonguing at your clit, your hole, mouthing hot, wet kisses to your pussy. He shakes his head from side to side, running your bud in tight, hard little circles until you’re a moaning, whimpering mess beneath him. Your hips buck unconsciously, and Frankie hooks both his arms around your thighs to hold you down, flattening his hands against your belly to keep you firmly in place. He reaches up to twist at your nipples and you gasp.

‘God, Frankie, tongue feels so fucking good -’

He can feel you begin to pulse against his chin as your whines get higher in pitch, and he groans as you twist handfuls of his hair.

‘Come on, baby,’ he says, ‘Give it to me. Wanna see you come, querida. Wanna taste it. Come on my face.’

And you do, the sensation of it arching your back tight like a bow, a strangled moan cutting off into the ceiling.

‘Fuck, Frankie, fuck -’ as he drives you through it, nodding and murmuring against you as you try to wriggle free, squealing in protest until you manage to twist a leg and set a foot against his chest, pushing him off.

‘Fucking - hell -’ You pant, and Frankie grins down at you, smug.

‘Good?’ He asks, quirking an eyebrow.

‘Oh, fuck you, Morales.’ You laugh, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss, moaning when you taste yourself on him. Your tongue explores every part of his mouth, every crevice behind every tooth, like you can’t get enough of him. Like there'll never be enough of him. ‘Now fuck me.’ You whisper.

And Frankie does not need to be told twice.

He rips his shirt up and off his back, shucks his shorts down his legs, and squeezes himself tight as he can in his left hand. He ruts into his palm, thumb swiping to slick his heavy beads of precum down his length.

‘Ready?’ he asks, looking down to find you staring wide-eyed at his cock. It twitches under your gaze.

‘What?’ He says, and you shake your head in quiet disbelief and amusement. You lift your eyes back to his face, and they are so dark with arousal he almost melts into the mattress.

‘Nothing,’ you shrug. ‘I just somehow never believed Pope and the boys when they said it was like two coke cans put together.’

‘Jesus Christ.’ Frankie laughs, his face pulling tight with a grin as he lines himself up at your entrance, swilling the head in your arousal.

‘I mean, what if it doesn’t fit?’ You babble, and he shakes his head.

‘It’ll fit, baby,’ he says. ‘We’ll make it fit.’ Then he sinks the first inch in, and just waits. He waits and watches you, watches as your mouth falls slack, all the smart things coming out your mouth grinding to a halt. He throbs at how tight you are around him, at how you clench already, trying to suck him in further. And fuck, you are so wet.

‘You okay, querida?’ He asks through gritted teeth.

You manage a nod, a broken whine escaping you.

‘Move Frankie, please baby -’ you beg, and he groans as he pushes further inside you, watching the obscene stretch of your pussy around him, the way it pulses, the way it gets wetter and warmer and tighter around him. When he bottoms out, he feels the hot rush of his orgasm leap towards him a little too quickly.

‘Fuck, baby,’ he breathes, closing his eyes just to make sure he doesn’t come right away. You squirm beneath him, canting your hips up, trying to fuck yourself. Frankie grips you, gritting his teeth. ‘Stay still,’ he hisses, flushing a little. ‘God, fuck, please - just for a minute.’ He opens his eyes to find you watching him, your bottom lip caught in your teeth. His eyes glaze down your body - his t-shirt bunched up around your chest, perfect tits, perfect belly, and your sweet, sopping cunt split open on his cock.

He groans again, slipping out, watching as he retreats, soaked by you, before pushing back in. A high pitched whine leaves your lips, and you twitch your hands up to play with your tits. Frankie doesn’t think he’s ever seen something more sexy in his life.

‘That’s right,’ he says, ‘Keep playing with yourself like that, gorgeous. Look at you.’

So you do, looking up at him with doe-eyes as he fucks into you, soft at first, letting you adjust before quickening his pace, readjusting his angle, feeling you leak around him. His balls slap against your ass loudly, and you keen up at him, eyes wide, begging for something as you tighten like a coil around him, something you can’t quite voice. But Frankie knows.

He swipes his thumb against your clit, and your eyes roll into the back of your head, your back arching again. He groans at the sight, and works the bundle of nerve endings in tight circles, faster and harder, harder and faster, until you’re gripping him so tight he thinks you might push him out.

‘Come baby, come,’ he pants, ‘Please, querida, need to feel you - need to feel you soak me. Need you to come for me, come on this cock, baby, please -’

And he groans, long and loud as you clench and pulse around him, milking him, pulling him impossible deeper - fuck, Frankie, oh my god, feels so fucking good - the delicious pressure at the base of his spine at breaking point as he fucks you through it, as he pants and gasps -

‘Come, Frankie,’ you plead, ‘Please - want you, need you -’ and he spills himself deep inside you, hips stuttering, eyes clamping shut, overwhelmed and short circuited. He’s never known it could feel like this - good to the end of every synapse - and he’s fucking it in with three long thrusts, pulling out slowly just to watch it dribble out of you as he twitches against his thigh. He thumbs your clit just to watch you seize and sigh against him, then sits back on his knees to look at you.

‘You are something else,’ he says in disbelief.

You smile lazily at him.

‘Ain’t so bad yourself, Morales,’ and he laughs, throwing himself down next to you, kissing anywhere he can. I love you, I love you, I love you. Safe.

You lay there for a while afterwards, just feeling each other, calming your ragged breathing. Eventually, Frankie rises from the bed to grab a washcloth, coming back and swiping between your legs tenderly, gently, before collapsing back into bed and pulling you into his chest.

He feels like he’s in space, and he tells you as much. He spills secrets like a child at a sleepover. He tells you about the glitter and the stars and the constellations of ice crystals. You match him with a galaxy of feeling spanning the time he’s known you. And he feels that this is a dream, this love which floats like a nebula within the bed. He tries to keep his eyes open for as long as possible, even as you sleep. And even when he does drift off, he dreams of you. He dreams of you sparkling with stardust, waiting for him with your arms open.

When he wakes the next morning, you’re still there. Safe, soft and warm against him, furled into his ribcage, heart beating against the hand that’s pressed against your chest.

Everything’s okay. That red thread still intact, after all.

When the sun rises, bloody and mild, it’s never been so sweet.

A little piece of a bloody tooth

Just so you know I was thinking of you

#pedro pascal fanfiction #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #pickup truck #kings of leon #Spotify #pedro pascal x reader

2K notes · View notes

powerfultenderness · 10 months

Text

Bed

Summary: König’s new neighbor finds out how comfortable his bed is. König falls quickly.

Pairing: König/F!Reader (civilian)

Rated: T+

A/N: Just some fluff.

Word count: 2947

[Neighbor König masterlist]

It was nice to have his own place. Having been in the military most of his life, König was used to base life. The familiarity of it all was a comfort, but there were some, well, comforts that were always missing. Like his bed. The beds on base were little more than stiff uncomfortable cots, a little too small for him, causing his feet to hang off the edge of the bed. But his bed at home? Large and soft and yet firm enough to hold his weight, with ample room for his height. The pillows were like solid clouds. And the vanilla scented candle on his nightstand would fill his room with its delicious aroma and lull him into soft dreams.

That’s where he was headed now, ready to eat the take out he was carrying, take a nice hot shower and climb into his bed. But as he rounded the stairs to get to his flat, he was met with a slight block on the stairs. A woman was struggling with a box, bracing it against her knee and grunting with every step she tried to take.

“Excuse me,” he started in German.

You jumped, and let out an undignified squeak, when someone started talking behind you. The surprise made you drop your box, thankfully it was already low to the step and didn’t drop on your foot or anything. Still you were sure you heard something break. “Shit!”

With a hand over your heart you turned and had to hold back another startled reaction. The man at the foot of the stairs was big, giant even, and was wearing…some sort of…hood? A mask? What the fuck? It took a second for you to realize he was carrying a take out bag, he must be trying to get past you. “S-sorry, you just startled me.”

He raised his hands, a gesture to show that he meant no harm. “No, I am sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He replied, this time in English. “Do you need some help?”

You smiled politely at the man, “oh. No thank you! I got it!” You chuckled nervously, still a little out of breath from struggling with the box, while you braced your lower back with one hand.

He smiled, not that you could see it, and gestured to the stairs. “Ok. After you.”

Right. Shit, right. You were blocking him, the big guy probably didn’t want to just push past you on the stairs.

You chuckled nervously again and picked up the box, trying to keep your grunts quiet, and heaved it up one more step. You could feel his eyes on you, another step, two more steps, then the landing. Whew! You gently dropped the box and straightened out your back to look up at the rest of the stairs.

You sighed, the little flight you just made it up was the easy part, now the long part of the stairs. The faint chuckling you heard from the foot of the stairs didn’t help either.

“Miss, are you sure you don’t need any help?”

“I mean,” you started with a huff, not out of anger, just an attempt to calm your breathing. “I don’t need help, I can carry it! But, help would be very much appreciated, yes. Thank you.”

He nodded and smoothly moved up to the landing, keeping his movements deliberate. Something he learned to do long ago around civilians, especially around women that were smaller than him, so he didn’t scare them. You showed signs of being wary of him —a good thing as far as he is concerned, as he is a stranger—and took a step back as he neared you. Since his face is covered, he can’t offer a mollifying smile (though he feels himself doing so anyway), and instead simply nodded at you again before he picked up the box.

He chuckled, watching you struggle with the box had him expecting a heavy thing, but, “this isn’t heavy.”

“What!” You squeaked, hands on your hips, “it’s like, fifty pounds!”

Even with his face covered (why?), you can tell just by the way his eyes darted over to you that he is smirking. “Where to?”

“Oh, not far. I’m at 203.”

“Neighbor,” he nodded as he started up the stairs. “I live in 205.”

You turned to him with a kind smile and introduced yourself, “nice to meet you, neighbor!”

“König,” he replied, now at the top of the stairs, and shifted the box so he was holding it in one hand. He extended his right hand to you

“Now you’re just showing off,” you say with an amused smile and shake his hand before leading him to your new flat.

He was surprised when you opened the door without unlocking it first.

“You should lock your door,” he followed you in.

You rolled your eyes a little with a short laugh and spread your arms out in the literally empty flat. “What, you think someone is going to break in and steal my nothing?”

“No. There are other things to take besides your stuff.” He half muttered as he set the box down by the wall.

“Huh?”

He looked at you, with your head tilted slightly as you questioned him, and understood. You were one of those civilians. Innocent. He can’t bring himself to put a damper on this interaction, in the back of his mind he realizes that now he’ll have to keep an eye and ear out for his new neighbor.

“Do you need help bringing anything else up?”

You gave him a strained smile, nervous, if the sound of your voice was anything to go by, and shook your head. “No, no I couldn’t possibly take up more of your time.”

You reached out and touched his forearm, intending to remind him of his dinner that he was carrying, but only drawing your attention to his muscles. “Oh. Wow.” You mumbled under your breath, before realizing that you’re essentially feeling him up and quickly drew your hand back.

König blushed at the soft touch, and again at your mumbled admiration. Not for the first time in his life he was thankful for the mask that covered his face.

“Uhm,” you cleared your throat and focused, “this was the heaviest box! I thought it would be best to start with that one! So I got it, really. Thank you, though.”

You smiled at him again and König decided then that he liked seeing you smile. “The food can wait. I don’t mind helping.” He offered one more time, that seemed to be the pattern with you.

Honestly, why were you even saying no to this hunk of man? Sure, you couldn’t see his face, but the form fitting long sleeved shirt he wore did little to hide just how fit he was. So you hummed and hedge, “I really don’t want to be an imposition-”

“You won’t.”

You smiled again, not a kind polite one like before, but bright and happy. He definitely liked your smile. “Well, in that case, König, I’d love your help!”

His stomach flipped at your words and smile, and he felt himself blushing even harder. He knew why. It wasn’t often that cute civilian women smiled at him like that. It was nice to have the attention of a pretty woman, even if nothing more came of it, as he expected.

“Let me put this down,” he lifted the bag of food a bit and you nodded, “sure!”

Out in the hall he paused and waited for you to lock the door. You scoffed playfully and obliged him, “really, someone taking those broken plates off my hands would be a blessing.”

He smirked but didn’t humor you, he wasn’t going to encourage your carelessness; what if something happened while he wasn’t around?

With König’s help it didn’t take long to bring up the rest of the boxes. The man doubled up on boxes on both trips while you carried light bags and just opened doors for him.

As he set the rest of the boxes down in the living room, you were rummaging through one of the bags you carried up, until you pulled out a wallet. “Thank you so much, König, let me pay you for all your help.”

“No.” He shook his head and raised a hand to refuse your payment, “it was my pleasure.”

Pleasure? Damn, where was this guy when you were moving out too?

“König,” you draw out his name in a small pout. “How can I repay you, then?”

Once again a wave of excitement rushed through him. He couldn’t help the inappropriate thoughts that ran through his mind for a second, that influenced his answer. “Have dinner with me.”

Normally he wasn’t so forward with women, and never with civilian women. But you were nice, and didn’t seem to be scared of him, and besides, he saw you checking him out at least once!

You were a little surprised by the request but smiled nonetheless. “Dinner? Sure, when-”

“Now.”

“Now?” Well now you’re really surprised. “König, are you offering to share your dinner with me?”

He looked around the apartment, the only thing you had were a few boxes, and shrugged. “What else will you eat?”

Oh. He had a point. You’re sure if you dug around in one of your bags, you could find a forgotten energy bar somewhere, but you didn’t have any real food around. “Well, ok. That’s true. Are you sure I can’t pay you? I feel like the person roping others into helping them move is supposed to pay for dinner.”

“No.”

You shrugged, “well, alright then. Let’s go. Oh, unless you want to eat here? I can offer premium seating on the floor!”

He chuckled and moved towards the door, holding it open for you. He once again waited for you to lock the door before leading you to his flat.

205 was a different layout than yours. It was one of the bigger flats with two bedrooms, two baths, a spacious living room and open kitchen. His place was nicely furnished, one of the first things that caught your eye was the big leather sectional in the living room. It was one of those deep couches, which made sense, considering how tall he was.

The table and chairs that he motioned for you to sit at were also clearly chosen to accommodate his size. You practically had to climb into the chair, and could easily kick your feet while he grabbed the food and some plates.

He had been so efficient in helping you, that even with the short delay, the food was still warm. You thanked him again and started to dig in when he set a plate in front of you. It’s only after your first bite that you noticed he was eating by lifting his mask for every bite.

Oh. “I’m sorry.”

He hummed, confused by your sudden apology. “Why?”

You gestured to your face, “you probably take off your mask when you’re alone in your home.”

Warmth bloomed in his chest. You were concerned about him? Of course you were, you were nice. A pretty, nice girl who didn’t want to be an imposition on him, who worried about his comfort, who didn’t lock her door.

He shook his head, “don’t worry about that. It is not a problem.”

There was something intense about his stare as he answered you, so intense that you dropped the matter and quickly finished your meal. He matched your pace, finishing his meal just as you finished yours.

You opened your mouth, you were going to thank him again and bid him goodnight, he was sure, but he spoke first. “Want a beer?”

“Oh. Sure.”

You smiled at him again, causing his blood to thrum in his veins. He wanted to remember your smile for the next time he was on a mission. The other men would brag about their women, and he had no one to think of, but now your pretty smile would keep his mind company.

Once you had your beer, you glanced around the apartment, taking it in. He had nice taste, the furniture was high quality, and even the TV looked like it was on the expensive side. Whatever he did, he was doing well for himself. But your eyes kept getting drawn to the couch. Maybe because you were currently lacking furniture yourself, it just looked so comfortable.

“König,” you started, not looking directly at him, “can I sit on your-”

Face? Dick? Yes, whatever you wanted, “yes.” He answered as you finished your question, “-couch?”

Oh. He deflated and took a breath to calm down. Of course you weren’t asking him to fuck you right now.

You set your beer down and moved to the living room. “It just looks so comfy.” You explained as you sat down and pushed yourself back into the firm cushions. You chuckled to yourself as your feet hovered off the ground when you were seated all the way back. Yea, this couch was definitely meant for taller people.

He grabbed your beer and set it down on the coffee table in front of you, to which you flashed him with another brilliant smile. He grabbed the TV remote and turned it on, “movie?”

You looked at him as he sat down next to you, his knee gently bumping into yours. “Dinner and a movie? Careful, König, I might start thinking this is a date.”

He laughed, boisterously, nervously, but relieved that you laughed with him.

The movie was of no consequence, but he felt encouraged every time you giggled at one of his jokes. By the time he was done with his second beer, he wasn’t even paying attention to the movie, instead he was telling you stories about his missions, nothing classified of course, but the way you stared at him with wide eyes, shining in anticipation as if he were more interesting than the handsome man on the television fueled him. At one point he even rolled up his shirt to show you a nasty scar on his side.

You gasped, eyes wide and looked up at him a little flustered as you asked him if it had hurt too bad.

“Ah, it was nothing! I barely felt it!” He assured you and cleared his throat as he rolled his shirt back down.

“Wow! That’s crazy!” You exclaimed as you shifted in your seat too.

His eyes flickered down for a moment and he noticed the way your thighs squeezed together before you found a comfortable position. You were closer to him now, and when he draped his arm along the back of the couch, his fingers brushing your shoulder, you didn’t move or give any indication that you were uncomfortable. He grinned to himself, nervous adrenaline finding its way into his blood and he had to actively stop himself from bouncing his knee.

And that adrenaline faded as you nodded off to sleep next to him. Well, you had mentioned that you’d been driving all day, moving. So naturally as soon as you were comfortable you fell asleep.

He was only slightly disappointed, it was still a better night than he could have hoped for otherwise.

You woke to the sound of your phone buzzing. Your morning alarm. You sighed, you still had time before you really had to wake up, so you snuggled right back into bed. It was so soft and warm, but the temperature in the room was bordering cold, which made the warm and heavy blankets even more inviting. The subtle scent of peppermint and vanilla-

Wait!

You quickly sat up, eyes wide in confusion as you looked around a room you had never seen before. It took a moment for last night’s events to come back to you. Oh! This must be König’s room…but he was nowhere around.

You straightened out the bed, feeling slightly guilty about climbing into such a nice bed in your street clothes.

“König?”

“Good morning!” He called from the kitchen.

You followed his voice, glancing at the couch on the way to the kitchen and saw that there was a pillow and blanket folded neatly on one of the cushions.

“Did you sleep on the couch?” You asked once you were near the kitchen, stopping on the other side of the island counter. Like you, he was dressed in the same clothes as last night, mask and all, probably hadn’t wanted to wake you.

“Yes.”

“You should have just woke me up. Sorry I kicked you out of your room. Did you carry me to bed?”

“Yes. Breakfast?” He asked just as he flipped an egg.

You glanced away and fought down a blush. What you’d give to have him carry you to his room while you were awake!

“No, thank you.”

“Are you sure?”

“I still have a lot of stuff to take care of, I should get started.”

“Oh.” He sounded so disappointed, and even his shoulders drooped a little.

You chuckled, “but thanks to you, I’m starting the day so refreshed!”

“Me?”

“Yea.” You nodded and smiled at him again, just like you did last night. “Your bed is so comfortable!”

“You like my bed?”

“Mmhmm!” You flashed him a devious smile this time, “maybe next time you can join me.”

The clatter of the spatula falling to the floor and him scrambling to grab it, echoed over your cute giggle. By the time he was standing up again, you were already by the door. “Bye, König!”

“G-goodbye!” He stuttered after you, already dreaming of what next time would entail.

#König x reader #konig x reader #no fancy format bc i'm on mobile #and König is just a side piece #no edits bc i'm on mobile #idk how yall who regularly post fics on mobile do it

5K notes · View notes